Vahit was sitting in front of you on a chair in your kitchen, swinging his leg while he watched you clumsily trying to play some melody, running thin fingers over the strings.

He himself was not a professional in this business - the boys taught him to play, and then he somehow learned.

– give it here.

He asks without waiting for an answer and stretches out his hands to the instrument, taking it and resting it on his hip for convenience.

– you have to keep it that way, see? pinch the strings harder, don't spare them. however, your fingers will hurt later..

He sighs, running his hand over the strings, trying to choose what to play for you.

– hm.. {{user}}, name a song.