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2024 – Red Queen Tour, Late Spring
The sun was dipping below the horizon as the Red Queen tour bus rolled into yet another city. The band had been on the road for months now, and every show felt like an endless blur of noise, lights, and adrenaline.
Nero was in the back of the bus, staring out the window. His fingers drummed against the seat, the distant hum of the engine only slightly drowning out his thoughts. He should have been enjoying the tour. He should have been hyped for the next show, the next crowd—but his mind kept wandering to something, or rather, someone.
Her name was Kyrie. She was new to the whole “Red Queen” scene, having just been introduced to the band’s chaotic tour schedule as their new PR rep. Her job was to keep the press off their backs, coordinate events, and ensure everything was running smoothly. Nero had never thought much about her when they first met—it wasn’t like he had time to care. But over the past few weeks, something about her had caught his attention.
She was sharp, professional, but had this lightness to her. A kind smile, a laugh that felt like home. And every time she caught his eye—whether she was handing him a water bottle backstage or giving him a thumbs-up from the sound booth—he found himself thinking, Yeah, she’s definitely different.
It was the night of their biggest show yet in a massive arena—Red Queen had been killing it in every city, but tonight felt different. The energy was different. The crowd was louder. The lights were blinding. Nero stood backstage, staring at the monitors, watching as the crowd waved their arms in sync to the rhythm of his band’s music. He wasn’t paying attention to the others as they adjusted their instruments; his eyes were fixed on one person—Kyrie, who stood near the side of the stage, clipboard in hand, yelling instructions to the crew.
She was still wearing that black hoodie, with a “Red Queen” logo on it—a merch item she claimed she would never wear until it became "mandatory." She always looked so comfortable in it, her long hair tied in a loose ponytail.
"Hey, man. Ready to rock this thing or what?"
Nero turned his head to see Ryan, the drummer, smirking at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready,” Nero muttered, still distracted.
“You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”
Nero flushed, then grumbled, “Shut up.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “You know, I saw the way you two looked at each other last night. Just saying.”
Before Nero could fire back, a voice broke in, cool and confident, cutting through the noise of the band’s pre-show chaos.
“Nero!”
He turned, seeing Kyrie standing in the doorway to the backstage area, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Uh, yeah?”
“Here’s your set list for tonight, and your guitar’s tuned,” she said, walking over and handing him the paper. “Everything’s good to go.”
Nero reached out to grab it, but his fingers brushed hers. He looked up, locking eyes with her for a brief moment, and for a second, time felt like it stopped. The noise from the crowd faded away, and it was just the two of them in the moment.
Kyrie didn’t seem to notice the shift in the air, though, as she smiled and stepped back. “I’ll be at the side stage for the intro. Break a leg, Nero!”
“Right,” he said, finally snapping out of the trance he didn’t even realize he was in. He watched her walk away, the sound of her voice still echoing in his mind. Break a leg.
He had no idea why that simple phrase made his heart race.
---
The show was nothing short of epic—Red Queen’s performance was flawless. Nero shredded his guitar, the crowd roaring with each note. As they hit the final chords, the arena exploded with cheers. Nero’s chest heaved as the adrenaline rushed through him, his body buzzing with the aftereffects of the wild performance.
He looked over at the side stage, catching Kyrie’s gaze. She was smiling, but it wasn’t just a professional smile—there was something softer behind it. Something genuine.
After the show, the band did their usual post-performance routine: chatting with fans, signing autographs, and heading back to the bus for a much-needed rest. But Nero found himself lingering near the back of the venue. It was quieter now, the rush of excitement from the show already beginning to fade.
"Hey."
He turned, seeing Kyrie walking toward him, a couple of water bottles in hand. She handed one to him.
“Great show tonight,” she said, her voice warm.
“Thanks,” Nero muttered, still slightly out of breath. “You look, uh, you look like you were having fun out there.”
She laughed lightly, “It’s hard not to have fun when the whole crowd’s dancing to your music.”
He shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t like he’d had much experience in this territory, but there was something about her that made him feel… different.
“Listen,” she said after a beat. “I know it’s a crazy tour, and I know we’re both busy, but… I was thinking, maybe we could grab some dinner together after the next show? I mean, I’m always running around with my clipboard, and you’re always doing… well, whatever it is you do with your guitar.” She grinned teasingly.
Nero stared at her for a moment. Dinner? With her?
"Yeah, sure," he said finally, voice a little too eager. “Sounds good."
Kyrie’s eyes sparkled. "Great. I’ll text you."
As she walked off, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Dinner with Kyrie. He could get used to this.
---
The next few days passed in a blur of tour stops, but Nero couldn’t help but replay that moment in his mind over and over again. He had always been focused on the music, the band, the stage. But now, there was something else to look forward to—her.
The following evening, after another high-energy show, they finally found time to sit down together. It was just the two of them, a small, quiet dinner away from the chaos of the tour.
They talked about everything and nothing—how she got into working with bands, how he started his journey with Red Queen, how they both laughed at the ridiculousness of being constantly followed by cameras and reporters. But the more they spoke, the more they realized how much they had in common.
Kyrie had a way of making him feel heard, understood, and for the first time in a long while, Nero wasn’t just Nero—the frontman. He was just Nero.
As the night wore on, their conversation shifted from casual chatter to something deeper. A spark lingered between them—something that neither of them had anticipated.
When they parted ways that night, Kyrie left him with a soft smile, one that felt like it held a promise of something more.
And for Nero, it was a feeling he couldn’t shake.
---
It was the beginning of something new.