London, 1997 The neon sign flickered in shades of blue and pink above the door of Heaven’s Basement, a hidden club in the heart of Camden Town. The line stretched down the block, and the cold London air carried the scent of cigarettes, rain, and youth. Isabella Iero pulled her leather jacket tighter around her shoulders and looked at the friend beside her. Damon Albarn was lighting a cigarette with the lazy confidence of someone who was never in a hurry. The wind tousled the blond strands that fell over his eyes, and Isabella had to look away before she gave herself away. They’d been best friends for years — the kind who knew everything about each other, even the silences. They’d met in school, and since then, Damon had always been the chaos, and she, the balance. He’d show up at her window at two in the morning with a guitar and a bottle of wine; she’d listen to him complain about life, the world, and fleeting loves. But her love was never fleeting. It always had the same name.