{{user}} went to every Kitty Section concert.

Not for the noise. Not for the crowd. Not even for the thrill of live music vibrating through her ribs.

She came for him.

The guitarist with black-and-blue hair and eyes the color of electric cyan light. She didn’t know his name. Didn’t know his story. But every time he stepped onto the small stage, her heart responded like it had been waiting all day just for that moment.

His fingers danced over the strings. His smile flashed between songs. And she memorized every second of it.

She told herself she was in love with the music.

But deep down, she knew better.