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V suppressed a scream as she fucked up her finger placement for the 100th time. Ever since they’d broken into Kerry’s apartment and stolen his guitar, Johnny had been set on teaching V how to play it. Unfortunately, he never predicted it would be this difficult.
“I thought you were helping me.”
Johnny backed away from the window; he’d given up hours ago. “I am. It’s not my fault you play the guitar like a 5-year-old.”
“Yeah? Well, at least I’m alive enough to play the guitar.” Hyped from her ‘clever’ yet grammatically incorrect comeback, V turned to look at Johnny. She wished she didn’t. The cat-obsessed asshole was stalking Nibbles as he chased a stray crisp packet and was too distracted to register the comment.
Noticing the sudden silence, Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose and glitched to the table, directing his attention to the merc.
“Look, just go from the top and try not to fuck it up.” V raised an eyebrow, “And if you do go wrong? Improvise.”
Once again, V began to play, her fingers meticulously drifting up and down the fingerboard. She obviously bit her bottom lip. The usually stressed, aggravated merc was swimming in a sea of concentration. Until…
“FUCK.”
Her index finger slipped, and the guitar produced an unholy twang.
“And here I was, believing lesbians had skilled fingers,” Johnny murmured.
V scrunched her face in frustration, and Johnny couldn’t help but feel an ounce of sympathy for the girl. Sure, she was annoying, reckless and uncultured in the world of rock ‘n roll, but it was her first time picking up an instrument, and god knows she’s trying her best. Even Johnny had his fair share of tantrums, one of which involved him cracking a wall with his practice guitar. The wall came off worse.
“Fuckin hell,” moving toward’s V’s side, Johnny pointed at one of the missile finger markers, “These are there for a reason. Let’s try it slow and steady. Follow my beat.” The ex-rocker rhythmically slapped his thigh, allowing V to count herself in.
Johnny mentally cursed when he heard the door of V’s apartment side open but continued to keep the beat in hopes that V wouldn’t notice their visitor.
The visitor in question was pleasantly surprised to see her girlfriend murmuring to herself as she plucked Johnny Silverhand’s guitar. Judy Alverez couldn’t shake how unusual it felt. Not only did V look calm, but the radio was off. V was dependent on the radio - even slept with it on as silence made her feel alone. Unlike her life, music was something V could control and something that could drown out those unwanted thoughts.
If V wasn't slowly dying, Judy would’ve thought it was cute.
Noticing the merc's control over the strings slipping, Judy placed the box of food (which V was now reliant on) by the sofa and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, humming a tune into her collarbone. The tension in V’s shoulders dissolved, and Johnny glitched into the back of her mind.
“Hey you,” V tilted her head, allowing Judy to kiss her cheek before gesturing to the guitar, “Is this new?”
“It’s Johnny’s. We stole it from one of his band members, and now he’s teaching me to play.”
“It looks complicated.” The techie traced the turning keys, “I learnt the ukulele at school, but I can’t remember it having this many strings.”
V couldn’t feel Johnny rolling his eyes, but she knew he was probably damning that statement to hell.
“Did you learning the ukulele have anything to do with Jenni Chapman?”
“Maybe.” Looking guilty, Judy joined her girlfriend on the sofa, “How’d you know?”
V threw her head back in laughter and gestured to Judy’s attire, “You don’t come across as the Hawaiian ukulele type!”
Overcome with affection, Judy launched herself at the merc, wrapping her arms around V’s torso and pushing her further onto the sofa, so she topped.
“Well, you’re not much of a musician yourself, mi calabacita.”
V shook her head in shame, “I bet I’m a good teacher, though.”
Judy looked doubtful and reluctant but still shuffled up and onto her knees, granting V the chance to show off her skills. V handed Judy the guitar and fastened herself to Judy’s back like a Koala.
“Alright, I have a song in mind which I think you’d like. You only need 5 chords, and thankfully, they all follow the same pattern.”
“And if I don’t know the song?”
“You’ll know the song.” V reached over Judy’s chest and took her fingers, guiding them to the correct position, “This is F#.” V moved Judy’s fingers, downwards, “And this is F#m.”
“What’s the difference?”
“This one is a minor key. It sounds different.”
“The rest are relatively simple,” V guided Judy’s index finger to the 3rd string, her middle finger to the 5th string and her ring finger to the 4th string before playing all six strings in unison. “That’s the E chord.” V continued, “This is A major, and this is G major.”
“Is that it?”
“Pretty much. If you’re not ready to put it all together, I don’t blame you.”
“Run it through with me slowly?”
V nodded silently, nervous for Judy’s reaction. She crouched in front of the guitar and mimicked Johnny’s earlier movements by tapping a light beat on her thigh so Judy could follow along. It was a beginners pace but fast enough for Judy to recognise.
“Pyramid song?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Unable to detect the techie’s tone, V anxiously picked at the skin surrounding her nails, “I saw your lyric tattoo when we first met, and I remember you telling me it was your favourite song because it reminds you of home and when you go diving.” Unsatisfied with silence, V continued, “I wanted to learn it anyway because it served as a reminded of our first date but figured I could teach it to you anyway because-”
Judy cupped V’s cheeks and pulled her up to meet her lips. The kiss wasn’t forceful or desperate, just loving and appreciative. Unlike everything else in NC, it was simple: it was them.
Judy pressed their heads together, “You’re such a gonk.”
“But I’m your gonk.”