This one may be a series of unrelated or related one-shot stories. It really depends on my becoming inspired to write something while listening to music. These are all based off my impressions of Maroon 5's old songs, hence the title. Again, this is a LukaXMarinette story, so enjoy if it's your thing. Still being told from a third-person perspective, this one focuses on mostly focuses on Luka's thoughts about a certain blue-eyed girl and her feelings for someone else.

The very first moment she walked into his bedroom to inform him that the group was preparing to start rehearsals he had seen it in her expression – the longing one can only associate with affections that aren't returned. It so easy to see when someone is clearly in love from an outside observer's perspective. Shy and stumbling over her words though she had been at the time of that first meeting, he had seen something beautiful shining from within. Maybe that something is what drew him in to his current perpetual state of friendly moral support.

After a brief exchange of words and the realization that he had hurt her with his innocent tease, he patted gently on the edge of his bed, inviting her to sit with him. As her body drew nearer to his, he felt the turmoil and the passion flowing from within her soul. "That's strange," Such a quiet an unassuming person in appearance with such curious feelings hidden just beneath the surface, "It seems you have something like this in your heart." The melody came to him as if by some sort of epiphany. She had closed her eyes and swayed to the rhythm, then turned to look at him as the music had faded back into the silence of the room.

"How do you do that?" She had questioned, tone of voice matching his masked feelings perfectly.

How indeed. In truth, Luka had no clue as to how naturally a melody came to him in this stranger's presence. Was it luck? Coincidence? Was she some sort of creative muse? Whatever the case, he had no real answer to offer her aside from something simple improvised off the cuff.

"Music is often simpler than words," He had told her, unsure as to whether or not the girl would buy something he was sure didn't sound genuine. However, as she stood and went to admire the guitar pick collection and the Jagged Stone poster on his wall, he could see no sign that she thought he'd been dishonest. Watching her browse through the collection of items displayed on his bedroom wall, he couldn't help the smile that had settled upon his features.

The second time he saw her, clearly more down in the doldrums than the first time, he felt compelled to offer her his support. "Do you feel kinda like this?" The music came so easily to him when he thought of her as he played. It was again as if the thoughts and feelings of the girl had been cosmically linked to the notes he produced with his instrument. A momentary connection he felt to be almost spiritual in nature. The small smile that played on her face as she nodded a silent response to his question had satisfied him so. The thought that the tiny emergence of genuine happiness had been something he was able to produce emboldened him. Though normally quite passive by nature, Luka remembers feeling compelled to act. Picking himself up off the chaise lounge, he made his way across the deck and toward the young woman with the blue bell eyes. "Well, personally, I think a girl like you deserves to feel more like…this." As he again struck the chords of his instrument, he could imagine -if only for a split second- that this is how he'd like to be able to make her feel.

For the first time in his life, that afternoon, Luka had felt a brief flash of irritation toward the person who had put this melancholy look on the girl's face. She deserved someone who would look and truly see her. "And whoever made you feel this way is nothing but a…" At this point, he returned to letting his music do the talking, not trusting his words to come out right. Just the same, Marinette had laughed along with him, clearly more cheery than when she had first appeared before him on the deck.

After an afternoon of skating and trying to ignore the glances she had been sending Adrien and Kagami's way, Luka came to understand that what she really needed from him was a bit of encouragement. She needed to know that someone was rooting for her happiness. He could be her support, even if it kinda hurt. As much as he didn't want to, he sent Marinette after Adrien. But not before a very welcome kiss on the cheek.

And so, it seemed, a trend had started.

Cut to right now and Luka finds himself sitting beside her on the couch in the home of one of her classmates, his arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulder. It is quite the occasion, with basically the whole class, friends and relatives showing up to celebrate. The young fashion designer seems to be the only one here not enjoying the evening. Marinette's friends had just gotten up to go play DDR, leaving her behind at her own assurance that she's fine. But Luka, having seen the face she made the moment they left her side, knows better than to believe those two little words.

Walking over to her had been one thing, but now, listening to her complaints in regards to being saddened by the lack of Adrien's attendance, finding the words to comfort her is another matter entirely. He wants to comfort her, truly he does, but it hurts to try and find the right words of encouragement. It's hard to pretend as if he doesn't care in the interest of seeing her be happy. What does one say to someone you have feelings for when they need your encouragement to chase after someone else they like?

"I'm sure there will be more chances." He tells her, rubbing her shoulder in an attempt to try and be comforting. The sad smile that she offers him just before she responds tugs fiercely on his heartstrings.

"You sound like Alya." Her voice is withdrawn and dejected, her blue bell eyes darkening with the weight of her frustration. She shoves some of the loose hair behind her ear and away from her eye.

"Well, she's right." He tells her, feigning a smile. "It will work out. It just takes time."

Finally looking at him and offering a smile that doesn't seem so forced, the girl leans in and kisses him on the cheek a second time.

"Thanks Luka," She tells him happily. "You're always there for me."

As she stands and smooths out her shirt, he grins and carefully maintains his façade of cheer. Their eyes line up.

"Anytime." He tells her, barely restraining a wince at the response.

She extends her hand down in what he assumes is an offer to help him up and is surprised when the young woman speaks up as he reaches out to her.

"Why don't we go dance?" The words tumble out in a bit of a rush, as his fingers fall into her open palm.

Unable to say no, Luka offers his own grin with a small nod of approval. With that, the two head off to join the others in the living room, swaying together to the music coming from the TV.