Every day at around 3 o'clock in the afternoon a man would arrive with a guitar at the park close to the arts college. Sometimes he would start playing once he sat down and other times he would sit for minutes with fingers poised and ready but never moving. It had gone on long enough that the frequent passerby's and the locals looked forward to his playing. They often heard the students playing their instruments and singing but they were sure this man was not a student.
Every day not long after the man arrived another would join him on his spot. He was always frowning and would often curse at the man who would only laugh in reply. Again this became a common sight and several soon realized that the other man's words were never truly meant or were used to hide what he really meant. This man would always have a violin case with him but rarely if ever played it and never when there were a lot of people around.
Sometimes though, while the man was playing he would lean back and close his eyes and his frown would ease. This other man was recognizable to a degree; they knew he was related to the genius piano player Feliciano that would often come to the cafe right across from the park and play. They never did learn either of the man's names but shrugged it off, names didn't seem needed.
The man was very good at the guitar even if he wasn't a prodigy. It was obvious how much time he put into his instrument and his playing. His movements were practiced and if one got close enough to see his hands they would see all the calluses and small scars he had gained. Various professors who would come through the park would stop and sometimes speak to the man. They knew he'd been offered the chance to go there but had declined for some reason.
There was something about the way he played that drew people in. His perpetual sunny smile and warm personality drew them in even more so. However, should anyone ask him why he declined the offer his face would gain a more serious expression though he didn't stop smiling, his eyes would become intense and his voice would gain an edge of steel. He would say that he liked making people happy with his music but there was only one person he wanted to truly play for.
When he said this most people would be confused but some would just look on knowingly and smile. Either way they were grateful for his music which seemed so much livelier and free then the stressed and sometimes robotic tunes of the students.
Then there were the afternoons when the crowd had dwindled and the sun was giving everything a deep golden glow and they waited with baited breath. It was these times they anticipated most. They looked for a sign that the wonderful would become something more. Because some days when the paths were bare and air was cooling the other man would open his case and take out his violin. He would rest it on his shoulder and begin to play alongside the man and his guitar.
It was these times that the world seemed to pause and a kind of magic came into the air. The two men seemed like opposites at first glance but when they played together the music flowed so seamlessly that they could only be seen as one unit. These moments made them wonder why they never heard of the other man as well like they did about Feliciano. His music was beautiful and to think such a gift went unnoticed tore at their hearts.
'But then it wasn't really unnoticed was it?' They would think as they cast a glance to the playing duo. The man definitely noticed by the spark that would enter his eyes whenever his companion began to accompany him. They would see glimpses and they knew it to be enough. When the two would finish playing they were always met with hardy applause by the few denizens. The other would blush and scowl but the softness in his usually guarded eyes betrayed him.
When they played together, the man on his guitar and his companion on his violin, a story was being told, one they didn't quite see but understood was there. They understood that there were countless moments between them. Moments passed back and forth like string that tied them together and made a bond that most could only dream of; a bond that let their music gain a depth that would ring out into the almost unknowing world.
When the man finished playing whether the other man had played with him or not they would both finally move from their place and gather what money they made before leaving the park. They would talk with each other as they walked by last stragglers in the park. The other man would most likely be wearing a scowl again and snapping at the man who would continue to smile.
By the time the other man finally gave a frustrated yell of 'Antonio!' for some reason they would be long gone and well on their way toward home. It was there that the man, Antonio, would begin coaxing his 'Lovi~' to play something he'd learned at school for him now that they were in the privacy of their home. Lovino would snap back that that was not his name before huffing and grudgingly retrieve his violin from its case to play. The rest of the night would be filled with music.