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Scar flopped onto the bed, bouncing once before steadying himself and sitting up. Grian followed him with a bit less fervor into the room. He pulled the door shut before turning to head over, holding a small stone-grey instrument in his hands. All of a sudden, it was just the two of them. The whole universe condensed to that one room. To the space they shared. To the sparkle in their eyes as they regarded one another. Grian pulled himself onto the bed beside him.
"Okay, it's quite simple. All you gotta do is kinda purse your lips, like this–" he raised the horn to his mouth, "and blow!"
Scar's eyes flew wide as a low, booming sound erupted from the instrument. It blasted him back against the headboard, as he dramatically brought a hand to his mouth. "That's loud! Should have realised it wouldn't be the same volume as listening in from miles away."
"Yeah," Grian grinned, puffing into the horn to produce a small toot, making Scar jump again, "You get used to it. Have to, if you're playing it all the time."
"I mean, you could just... not play."
"But where would the fun in that be? C'mon, give it a try!"
"Are you sure?" But Grian was already thrusting the horn into Scar's arms, an eyebrow raised. A challenge. And Scar wasn't a coward. He raised the tip to his lips, taking a deep breath before blowing it out, hard as possible. His brows furrowed when the only sound that came out was a feeble fart-like noise. Grian giggled beside him.
"Purse your lips! Like you're giving it a sweet little smooch!" He demonstrated the move, but quickly delved back into giggles as he watched Scar trying to replicate him. Scar was fighting a losing battle against his lips, who were desperately trying to pull up into a grin. He quickly blew into the horn once more before they could win. His eyes brightened in victory when it rang out between them.
"Grian! I did it! An actual horn noise!"
"You're doing great! Now all you need to do is... learn to play." He pulled Scar's hands toward himself, running his fingers along the horn's inner curve. The pads of his fingers caught on tiny holes drilled into it. "You gotta cover these up with your fingers. Go down in a row. It gets lower, the more you cover."
Scar's head spun with the instructions for a moment. He looked down at the instrument with his brows furrowed, trying and failing to do what Grian had explained. "Like this?"
"Ah, no. Like–" He pulled the horn from him, "Let me just show you!"
He ran his hand over the horn, movements almost too quick for Scar to catch. He reluctantly took the instrument back, wrapping his fingers around it once more. He blew into it, repeating Grian's movements in the mean time. What came out was a slow, unsteady scale. But a scale, nonetheless. Grian cheered, and his eyes snapped up, alight with joy.
"Am I doing it? Am I fingering correctly?"
Grian's cheeked flushed red even as Scar tilted his head in faux innocence. "Yeah– Yeah, you're fingering correctly, Scar," he choked out. They both delved back into giggles, knees almost touching as Scar inched further up the bed. The whole afternoon was spent filling the room with beautiful songs. Scar’s grin only widened when every so often, Grian would let out his angelic voice to accompany him playing. For that afternoon, all was well.
But not for longer.