A Simple Tune
"Are you sure you want me as a teacher?" You look at Frisk dubiously as they hop from one foot to the other. "I'm kinda still getting back into the swing of playing myself."
They nod vigorously. You'll be great! They sign, eyeing the guitar in your hands. Besides...who else am I gonna ask?
The two of you look over at the gently snoring skeleton who is partially hidden in the folds of your beanbag, which you finally got around to repairing and is now claiming a corner of Toriel's living room. Sans of course claimed his own spot on the bag instantly and seemed content to sink into the now slightly deflated cushion. At the moment, you can only see his fuzzy sock clad feet sticking out and a silver of his face. Though just a moment ago you could've sworn he was awake while you idly played some tunes on your guitar. You narrow your eyes at him and it might just be a trick of the light but it looks like his mouth twitches slightly.
You sigh. "Good point." You scoot over and pat the space next to you on the couch. "Might as well get started then! Just...don't get mad if I have no idea what I'm doing."
Frisk blows a quiet raspberry and plops down next to you. You carefully hand the guitar over and help direct their hands into the proper places. "Okay, so this string here is E, the next is A and then D, G, B, E," you explain, touching each string as you name it. "You can remember it this way: 'Even Average Dogs Get Bones Eventually'."
You hear a snort from the beanbag.
Frisk nods but frowns. Two E's? they sign with one hand.
"Yeah, the high E is exactly two octaves higher than the low E." You play the two string ones right after another. "Hear that? They're both E notes but on a different pitch."
Frisk follows your motions and runs their fingers over the strings. A delighted smile lifts their face.
You can't help but grin too. "So, you've got the string names?"
They nod vigorously, staring at you expectantly.
Um....You have to scramble for a moment to remember exactly what the very basic lessons are. You learned how to play a long time ago and all of that stuff now just comes naturally to you.
Sans (who has given up any pretense of being asleep) hums a soft tune as his foot bobs gently in place. There's a familiar rhythm to it. Three notes, each rising slightly in pitch. Oh right! "Let's start you off with some basic chords," you say brightly. "C Major is an essential, so here, place your fingers here...."
You help Frisk place their fingers in the proper position and within fifteen minutes, they've got all the basics down. You're really impressed with their speed and a small part of you wonders if maybe this isn't the first time they've played. Or maybe they're just naturally skilled.
You're leaning more towards the second option.
Far faster than you expected, you've exhausted your basic teaching knowledge so you head back into your room and dig through some boxes to find basic song books that Sans picked up to practice on his guitar. He too caught on surprisingly fast when it came to learning so he doesn't use them much anymore. You finally find them at the bottom of a box in the closet, hidden under a worn physics book. You glance at his guitar leaning against the wall. "Hey Sans?" you call loudly. "Do you mind if I use your guitar?"
You know he won't, but manners demand that you ask first.
"what?" His distant reply floats down the hall so you stick your head out of the door.
"Can I use your guitar?" You make sure to raise your voice.
"whaaat?"
Ugh. He probably can't hear you under all those beanbag folds. You move to the end of the hall, leaning around the corner. "I said, can I-"
You stop short, trying your hardest to keep a grin off your face when you see Sans, now seated on the opposite side of the couch with his guitar in hand. Freaking teleporting magic. You walk over, lean over the back of the couch and put your head a few inches from his face. You match his innocent smile before bellowing, "I SAID CAN I BORROW YOUR-"
He slaps his free hand over your mouth, wincing a bit. "easy pal! you're making my skull ring."
"Oh I'm sorry, are your nonexistent ears sensitive?"
"do you wanna use this or not?"
You vault over the back of the couch, landing between Sans and Frisk. "Yes please." You take the offered instrument, give him a smooch on his cheek and turn back to Frisk. "Oh, also uh...you didn't just see me jump over the couch, right?"
Frisk grins and mimics zipping their lips. You get back to the lesson, employing Sans as a makeshift stand for the music book and very sweetly ask him to sit on the floor. He does so with only a little bit of grumbling. Again, Frisk picks up the lesson really fast, especially now that they can watch your finger movements as they attempt it themselves. Their small fingers dance gracefully over the strings, easily finding the rhythm and beat of each song. A good hour passes like this and already they're playing better than you could when you first started.
"You're a regular August Rush, aren't you?" You say with a wide smile. They frown in confusion and shrug. "What, you don't know August Rush? You know-AUUUGUST RUUUSH!" You crow in your best Robin Williams impression.
Frisk just tilts their head at you while Sans snickers. You make a mental note to actually show them the movie later. "Okay, nevermind. Let's see here...ah!" You gently pry Sans' fingers off of the book of simple songs and turn the page. He doesn't move until you press lightly on his fingers to keep the page in place. "Here's a classic. Coldplay's Clocks. We can actually make a duet of this. Here, you stick to these chords here." You point to a simplified version of the song. They might catch on quick, but you do have more experience. "I'll play this line and it'll sound glorious."
You tap the side of Sans' guitar a few times, since Frisk is using yours, to set a steady beat. "Ready and..." Your fingers start plucking out the tune and Frisk is quick to follow, their simpler tune adding a pleasant layer to the music. You find the words springing easily to your mind and you sing gently. "Lights go out, and I can't be saved. Tides that I tried to swim against have put me down upon my knees. Oh, I beg, I beg and plead, singing-"
As you and Frisk play together, your eyes drift to Sans. His skull is bobbing gently in time with the music, a soft, easy smile on his face. His gaze is fixed solely on you and when you lock eyes, your feel your heart skip a beat. His smile grows slightly, not missing the small catch in your words and his own light blue blush lights his face. His fingers, still dutifully holding the songbook open are tapping against the pages, mirroring your own movements.
You'll have to ask Toriel about getting Frisk their own guitar. Then the three of you could all play together. You smile at the mere thought of it before letting yourself get lost in the music once again.