![]() ![]() "Hmm?" Yasuda placed the instrument on his lap, trying unsuccessfully to copy the natural way Nishikido held the guitar. "Here you go," he said, handing it back to Yasuda. Luckily the other hadn't noticed, as he was now busy tuning Yasuda's guitar. His voice was deep and raspy, his eyelashes long, and Yasuda realised that he was staring. His fingers were long, but not too dainty there were callouses on the pads of his fingers. There was a dark mole under one eye, and another near his bottom lip. His face looked sad, although his lips were curved upwards, even when he wasn't smiling. He had dark hair, which rested just above deep black eyes. Yasuda exhaled the breath he had been holding and smiled back, a strange kind of comfort filling the room. "I've never heard a guitar sound like that. "No, I bought it second-hand from my friend." His left hand formed chords in quick succession, his right plucking the strings carefully and deliberately. "Nice guitar," he murmured, looking up at Yasuda and smiling slightly. Nishikido ran his hands over the surface of it, checking the strings and the body, humming again. Nishikido hummed, holding out his hand for it and placing his own guitar down. "Oh, right." Yasuda unzipped his guitar case, pulling out a handsome old acoustic. The room was rather cramped and awkward now that Nishikido had closed the door. "My name is Nishikido Ryo," he said, once Yasuda had sat down on his own chair. There were three guitars leaning against the walls, and the man picked one up, resting it on his lap and waiting for Yasuda to sit down. The room was small, with just enough room for the two of them to sit comfortably infront of one another, on swivel chairs made for boring days behind desks. Yasuda hurried after him, accidentally bashing the corner of his guitar case on the doorframe as he entered. "Well come on, then," he said gruffly, turning and walking down the corridor, pushing open a door with the name 'Nishikido' placed on it's surface. "That you?" the man asked, taking in Yasuda's outfit. "Yasuda Shota?" a voice called, and Yasuda turned, seeing a dark-skinned man in a band t-shirt and worn out jeans standing at the top of the stairs. There was a corridor off the side of the room, where people were coming and going, their chatter and the dulled noises of students just learning their instruments echoing down the hallway. A boy, still wearing his school uniform, drummed his fingers on the bench beside him, tapping out the song he must have learnt on the piano. There was a young girl next to him, all pigtails and chubby cheeks, quietly doing her homework as she waited for her lesson. Yasuda sat gingerly on the edge of one seat, his guitar nestled between his knees as he waited. Mismatched couches and benches surrounded it, children and their parents quite comfortably resting on them, their instruments sitting on their laps or the ground between their feet. The second floor was more like a reception area, with one table in the middle with out-of-date magazines and old comic books piled on it. The girl told him to go upstairs, and he nodded, awkwardly making his way up the stairs with his guitar. There was even a small drumkit, over in the corner, for children, with it's price in bright red letters above it. Posters of musicians - new and old - were plastered on every surface that wasn't already covered. Music books lined the staircase, new magazines lying near the door. The room was large and spacious, guitars hanging from hooks in the walls and from the ceiling. He peered in, greeted immediately by a girl in her early-twenties, with short dark hair and piercings. The place was rather hidden amongst cake shops and car service yards, slightly run-down and with cracks in the paint, and it didn't look all that inviting. Yasuda checked the text again, making sure he was at the right place, before hitching his guitar case further up on his shoulder and walking towards the door. SUMMARY: When Yasuda Shota starts going to guitar lessons, he didn't plan on falling in love with his teacher. NOTES: Dedicated to luna_truths yet again. ![]()
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