A/N: This story was inspired by the manga 'Canon No Ato Ni' – written and illustrated by Hoshikawa Hachi. So, while reading this, it would be really good to listen to the song Canon in D (Pachelbel).

I hope you guys enjoy it~

Pachelbel - Canon

I hear it often as I walk past this place.

"I'm sorry Oskar." I said.

And today was no exception.

"You're making a big mistake Star." My ex replied.

Ah, the beautiful melody.

"No, I'm not." I smiled at him and hugged him.

I can't really put my finger on it, but I know this song.

Oskar hesitated and hugged me back. "You'll regret this."

My smile faltered. I probably won't.

"Maybe." I regained my composure and watched him walk away.

Sighing, I leaned against the wall of the old building of Echo Creek Academy. This wing was rarely used, and almost completely abandoned. What people use it for now is storage and 'doing-the-deeds'. I shivered at the thought of it.

Again, the music grabs my attention and I couldn't help but follow.

Who would play in a dump like this? Well, technically it's not a dump. Janitors are still required to clean this place up every month or so.

I know this song. It's at the tip of my tongue.

I continue to follow, sliding my hands on the cold wall and empty broken lockers. These guys were supposed to be melted and turned into brand new ones, but our Principal must've forgotten. I roll my eyes at the memory of the person who ran the school.

Finally stopping at the last classroom to my left I held my breath before grabbing on the doorknob. What if it was a ghost…? Well, I would never know unless I open it. So I did.

Carefully turning the knob I push the door as slowly as possible. The room was devoid of any type of furniture, except for a piano next to the window. And judging from the curtains softly fluttering, I'd say window was open.

A boy was playing the piano. Not a ghost. Or any type of demon. Just a simple boy wearing a red hoodie and had a nest of messily combed chocolate brown hair on his head.

I walk over to him, not entirely sure how to approach the situation.

I spot an empty space next to him and point at it. "May I sit here?"

He continued to play as if I wasn't there.

I shrugged it off. That's probably the only answer I'm going to get.

"Is that Canon?" I asked, finally remembering the title.

Again, no answer. I was getting a little irritated.

Focusing my thoughts on what happened just a few minutes ago, I managed to brush off his silence once again. Listening to the seamless music play in the background made the atmosphere unsuitable for breakups. I know I should be a mess right now. I should be bawling my eyes out. But…

I didn't cry.

No matter how many times this happened, I never once cried. No matter whom I dated, they were all the same. When it was time to end it, I felt no remorse. Does that make me a bad person?

Remembering that fact made me feel empty. I questioned my knowledge on love, and infatuation. Did I ever really have any feelings for any of them at all…?

There was a lot of dust in the room. I noticed old bulletin boards were still hung up with even older papers attached to it. I sniffed as my allergies started to act up. Man, that place really was filled with dust bunnies; it was starting to make my eyes tear up.

I heard the music stop playing all of a sudden in the middle of the song, and turned around to see what was wrong. The boy didn't look up from the keys, when he fished out a handkerchief and offered it to me.

I was surprised to say the least.

Did he think I was crying?

"Oh," I accepted it clumsily. "Thanks but I wasn't –"

He continued to play the piano expertly. "Just to be sure," He cut me off. "I'm not playing for you."

This guys ego – I stopped momentarily, the anger in me halting as I heard someone open the window. Not the one in the room, it sounded like it came from outside. The map of the school building instantly unfolded in my head as I tracked the sound. It was a classroom in front of this pale blue curtain covered window.

I turned to him. His face was dusted with a bright red color. It looked cute.

"Right on cue." We heard a soft female voice from outside.

His figure tensed when she said that. His playing became a little restless, like he was debating whether he should run or stay put. And his cheeks turned a darker shade of red.

Could it be…

I swung my legs back and forth as I turned away from the window beside us.

There's no doubting it.

He's in love.

I returned home just before the sun had shone its last few rays, and was greeted by my many puppies. They all barked and wagged their tiny tails happily. I got on my knees and allowed them to come up and lick my face.

"That tickles guys." I laughed.

"Welcome home, Star." My dad looked at me with broad grin. "How was school?"

I slowly stood up and dusted away invisible dust from my dress. "I broke up with Oskar." I told him.

"I knew that boy was no good." My mother was in her fluffy blue robe walking towards us. She opened her arms out to me and I didn't hesitate to hug her.

"He wasn't horrible mom." I said. My mom wasn't the kind of person who wore her heart on her sleeves. So obviously I would grab any chance I get to be this close to her…

"Yes, but still not good enough." She replied. My dad nodded in agreement, making me roll my eyes playfully.

"Fine, you were right." I admitted, and then picked up my bag. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day, I think I'll head to bed early."

My parents said okay and we exchanged our goodnights.

Once in my room I fell face first onto my pink bed. That boy I met today, he seemed like he was giving his all to the piece he was playing. No doubt it was all for that girl on the opposite side of that window.

That was love… right?

It made me wonder if I would ever find a love like that?

The next day I sat in the same place from the last time I was there. The music was once again Canon, and he seemed to be waiting for something.

"Hey, can you tell me who you're playing for?" I asked.

He didn't answer me fast enough, so I thought he was ignoring me again. But thankfully he proved me wrong.

"I met her back in kindergarten." He said.

"Wow, that long ago?" I couldn't help but turn to him. "Such pure feelings, I'm kind of jealous."

His face held the least bit of emotion. He cracked his knuckles and massaged his shoulders a bit before answering.

"There's not much to be jealous of." He told me. "We never even had a decent conversation."

I looked at him for an explanation. A trace of sadness filled his eyes before he masked it expertly with indifference.

"It was surprisingly… exhausting…" he finished.

Well, even if it was exhausting, I don't think you would really care if you were in love.

"I wish I could experience that." I said. "At least once."

He made no comment. And even after all this time I never got to see his face properly either. He was always staring down at the keys of the piano.

I got up and walked to the window. Who was he playing for? He still didn't give me a name, but I don't want to pry any more than I already had. I guess I was just curious. What does it feel like to be in love?

With a slight tug I slid the curtain open and leaned on the railing. Opposite us was a classroom.

I knew it.

"Oh, hey." A girl with pale blonde hair and a blue streak looked at me.

"Jackie?" I tilted my head in realization. Jackie Lynn Thomas was the most popular girl in our school. Everyone knew her.

"Were you the one playing Star?" She asked. Yeah, she knows me too. We would sometimes have small talk on our way to class. She's pretty cool and laid back.

"I–" I looked behind me to find the boy hiding behind the piano. He was frantically waving his arms and making a large 'X'. "Ah, yes." I lied.

Jackie smiled. "I love that song. The first time I heard you play has kept me coming back at around this time just to hear it. You practically pour your feelings out when you play."

I felt a pang of guilt when I heard that. And something else I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"Oh, really?" I said, not being able to make direct eye contact.

"Yeah." She replied. "Do you mind if you play once more?"

I glanced behind me; the boy gave a thumbs up.

"Sure." I told her, and closed the curtains.

As soon as I did, the boy had already sat down and readied himself to play.

"Thanks…" he muttered.

I still felt that little pull in my chest. Slipping my hands in my pocket I felt the hanky he gave me yesterday. I had washed it and it was pressed to a crisp fold with an iron.

I should give it back…

"Thank you." Jackie called out from outside.

He blushed again just like before. And his music seemed to be happier too. Was it because she complimented him? Indirectly.

"What a weird face." I said, as I fought to keep my own face from becoming hot.

He refused to look at me, but he glanced just enough for me to catch the light hazel brown color of his eyes.

"Shut up." I could clearly see the small smile playing on his lips.

And I put the handkerchief back in my pocket.

"Your name's Marco Diaz right?" I asked, leaning against the open window once again.

"Yeah." He answered.

"Cool. Your name is really Spanish huh."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess so, but I don't think the meaning suits me."

"Oh? How come?"

"It means warring, or the god of war. And I've been given a title completely opposite that."

"You mean 'safe kid'?" I could've sworn he flinched a little. It must've been annoying to have that as a title.

"You do something once, and they never let you live it down…" his words droned out at the end.

"But you are living up to it, Marco." I said. The name sounded foreign in my ears, but it somehow felt right.

He didn't answer.

"You're fighting for her to notice you aren't you?" A breeze rushed in and made the curtains flutter.

He finally looked at me. And I saw his face clearly. Those light brown eyes, and his cute mole on the right side of his cheek. He was blushing from what I said and suddenly I felt a blush creep on my own face, but I pushed it back down as hard as I could.

He looks cute when he blushes.

"You're weird." He replied.

I scoffed playfully at him and turned my heels. Any more of me staring and I'd be doomed for sure. "I get that a lot."

"Star Butterfly." He said out of nowhere.

I froze in place at the sound of my name. A chill running down my spine and something fluttering in my stomach made my knees feel weak.

"You're quite popular." He commented.

"Really." I looked at the clouds outside and watched them lazily roll by the blue sky. Anybody could've guessed I was trying to distract myself.

"Yeah." I heard his voice shift; he must be facing the piano again. "Earlier I heard a couple of them debating whether you look better with your hair down or not."

I almost laughed. Was that really what they were talking about? "And what was your conclusion?"

He didn't answer immediately, but from the couple of days I've been with him, I've learnt to be a little more patient.

"I don't really know." He said truthfully. "I don't care if a girl wears her hair up or lets it lose, as long as she's comfortable with it."

He was talking about Jackie. I could feel his mind drifting off already. The weird tugging on my chest came back again. But I didn't want to give it any attention.

"Ow." The wind had brought in some dust that went straight to my eyes.

I stager a couple of steps backwards and held a palm to my eye. Darn contacts.

"Are you okay?" Marco sounded concerned.

I heard him walk over to me. I turned around to show him I'm fine before he got any closer.

"Yeah I'm fine, just –"

But he had already held my wrist and pulled my hand out of the way. I never saw his face this up close. I couldn't help but stare. My heart started beating wildly and I just hoped my cheeks weren't as pink as I thought they were…

Too close. Too close. TOO CLOSE!

"You wear contacts?" He asked.

"Y-yeah, I don't like my glasses…" I looked away when I muttered that.

"Why not?" He persisted. "I think it would be more comfortable that sticking plastic into your eyes."

"How would you know?" I retorted a little too coldly.

"Because I do." He shrugged.

The guy's attitude is really starting to piss me off.

"Are those real?" He pointed at his cheeks.

It took me a couple of seconds to understand that he was motioning at my hearts.

"They look cute."

The blush I had tried to keep down crept back and I slowly nodded a thank you. Darn guy, one minute he annoys me, the next he completely leaves me flustered.

I can't be… could I…?

"She's here." I whispered as we heard the twisting of a doorknob on the other side.

He quickly let go of my hand and sprinted to the piano. I felt the tug again, and this time I didn't pretend not to notice. I knew exactly what I felt.

Closing the curtains I couldn't help but wonder…

Is this what love feels like?

I looked at myself in the mirror before I went to see Marco again. I wore the same type of clothes I always do, and I got my signature headband on my head, but one thing that was different were the black rimmed glasses that rested on the bridge of my nose.

"It is more comfortable…" I told myself. "Why…"

Why am I making excuses for myself…?

I smiled and noticed my hearts turn bright pink.

Opening the door I found him where he always sat. He was browsing through his phone when I stepped in next to him. I cleared my throat and pushed my glasses up nervously.

Why was I nervous?

But he didn't react. I let out an annoyed huff. He seemed tired. Like he had a burden on his shoulders. I knew why of course. He told me the second time we met.

"Hey," I called out. "If this is so exhausting, why don't you just confess?"

He took his time as usual before answering. I noticed he liked to pick his words carefully. "I was going to… once… But the timing wasn't right. And now she has someone else she likes, having me confess would probably bother her."

I felt my heart get stung. He was so sad. And seemed so broken, but he held himself together well.

He's been in love with this girl since they were children for crying out loud. Only God knows how difficult it was for him to see her with someone else. It must've hurt… Probably a hundred times worse than what I am feeling now. I clutch tightly at the handkerchief in my dress pocket. Why did it have to be this way?

"I guess…" I started, as I took a seat next to him. "She isn't coming today. Usually she'd be here around this time." Glancing at the clock, the hands read 3:30 pm, exactly when classes end.

"Probably because today's her birthday." Marco said as he continued to play the same melody.

"What?" I faced him a mock-surprised look. "And you weren't invited?"

He looked at me slightly annoyed. "I was invited. And I'm pretty sure you were too."

I looked back at the clock that was ticking the seconds away. "Yeah, but it starts at 6pm. I've got time to kill. Shouldn't you be getting ready or something?"

"I have been." He mumbled almost too soft for me to hear. But I knew there was a meaning behind it.

Oh, I get it now.

"Were you practicing to play Canon in her party?" I asked.

"I was supposed to play this piece, a very long time ago…" He answered. "It was the day I decided to confess, but she already had someone by her side… So I couldn't do it.

"I decided to play it on her next birthday," He chuckled bitterly. "Because I practiced so hard, but I couldn't do it. Seeing her with someone else, it just… I just couldn't."

Again, the pain intensified and it almost felt like my heart was going to break.

"That's why I play it every day here. So that she gets to hear it, I guess you can say it's a way of saying sorry." He turned to me with the saddest smile I have ever seen him wear. "I know, it's lame."

I bit back the urge to hug him.

"It's not lame!" I almost yelled. "It's your feelings, the feelings you've kept for so long."

No wonder it was exhausting. He must've been hurting all alone, for all these years. In this darkened room in the old wing that was rarely used, that repeating melody of this over worn practiced piece sounds so painful now that I know the story behind it.

Again I glanced at the clock, 3:45pm. I ran to the window and pushed the curtains open with more force than needed. There were still students walking back home, and my eyes frantically searched for a certain blonde haired girl with a blue streak. I finally spot her just below the window I was looking out from.

"Jackie!" I cried out her name like it was an emergency. She looked up a little confused but smiled and waved at me. I smiled back; relieved she could hear me.

"It wasn't me!" I said. My eyes were starting to tear up a little from both the waves of emotion I felt and the adrenaline rush. "It wasn't me who's been playing the piano!"

Her smile paused, like she was confused again.

"The truth is, there's a boy who's been playing for your sake!" I tried to keep my voice leveled and not crack.

I want her to know how much Marco loves her. For him to keep coming and playing for her even though she has no idea who it was…

And because I'm starting to feel it too. This thing people call love… it actually hurts a lot.

"Let's play." I said, facing Marco. "And end this practice piece already."

He looked shocked, but he nodded and started to play.

All his feelings were pouring onto this last song uncontrollably. I could feel it passing through me like it was something natural, and for the first time, in love, I cried.

Here is it Jackie… the song meant just for you.

Jackie stared up. A knowing smile graced her lips as she told me, "Can you tell him 'Thank you' for me?"

I nodded in reply and couldn't help but return the smile with one of my own. Finally, Marco's feelings came across.

This long repeating melody was definitely not played in vain. Because it was there where I found you, and found out what love meant.

Marco surrendered his head to the piano keys as soon as he was done. It let out a loud ring but neither of us minded. I could clearly see his shoulders slowly shaking.

"I've had enough of this love thing…" Marco said.

"Don't give up just yet Safe kid." I told him. He turned to me and glared, even all teary eyed like that he was still so cute. "Why don't we start with another song? I can teach you."

I pulled out the handkerchief that was now crumpled and handed it over to him. He took it gratefully.

"Thanks," he said as he brought it to his face to wipe the tears that were spilling from his eyes. "Wait, isn't this mine?"

"Yeah." I answered sheepishly. "I was meaning to return it to you, but I kept forgetting."

I crouched down to eye level with him and tried my best to give an encouraging smile. Love is really an odd thing; it's exhausting; it makes you strong but at the same time weak. It makes you cry, and sometimes makes you want support someone even if it hurts you.

It can sting, and it has the power to completely crush and rebuild you as well.

Marco looked at me but he wasn't looking at my eyes. "Glasses." He whispered as he picked himself up and sniffed. "You're wearing glasses."

I giggled shyly. "Yeah, someone once told me they were more comfortable."

He smiled a genuine smile that had no trace of sadness or regret. It made me feel so light and the butterflies in my stomach started dancing around.

"Teach me," He said, as I in turn took a seat next to him. "Another song."