Taylorde - Oneshots

The Duet

"That's not C, Ella"
"What about th-"
"That's not even a natural key"
"I give up"
"Sit back down!"
Taylor has recently found out that I don't play any instruments and she is eager to begin teaching me the piano. It's been over half an hour and I'm still struggling to play one scale. Much to Taylor's annoyance.
"Give me your hands", she instructs.
"For the piano?"
"Yes! For the pia- Oh my god, just put your fingers here"
"Also for the piano?"
"You're unteachable!", Taylor yells and stands up from her stool. She slams her hand on the piano keys, a deafening clang resounds around the room. Taylor storms out, arms swinging from side to side in a business like fashion, her hips swaying. I smirk and stare down at the piano keys. The chandelier above casts them in a somewhat goldish glow. I brush my fingers over their smooth surfaces. I gaze at my reflection in the piano. Tapping my finger down I play a note and hold it. A minor key. I sigh, happily to myself.
"That's still not C", a voice from dowstairs calls.
"What are you doing?", I laugh, "Come back up here"
"Just a moment!"
There's a clattering noise as she searches for something. She mutters to herself as she roots around. Eventually, the sound of strings being strummed echoes downstairs. Footsteps creep up the staircase and Tay reenters the room. With a guitar in hand. She sits down on her bed, crosses her legs and begins to tune it. I smile at her from my seat at the piano as she hums and furrows her brow, trying to bring the old instrument back to life. It's her first guitar. Kind of small, no big major label burned on it's surface. She begins to tell me the story of how she learned her first chords, I've heard this story a hundred times but I listen all the same with each telling.
She was twelve. A computer repairman had taught her the chords that she would use in her first song, Lucky You. This led to songs about people in school who gossiped about nothing important, boys on football teams she wanted, some girls she wanted..., people who thought her songs were silly, people who talked behind her back, everyone who had ever been rude, bitchy or spread a single rumour had a song just for them.
I laugh at each insult Taylor throws, each cleverly written lyric that mocked the crude behaviour of the enemies of her adolescence. I join her on the bed, the puffy sheets hugging my bare legs. Taylor has managed to tune the guitar and her ruby painted finger tips begin to pluck and play the sweetest little song.
I'm just so-
Perfectly perfect,
except when I'm not.
I'm just so seemingly sunny,
'till things get too hot.
And we're both so foolishly naughty,
until we get caught.
Chances are that our love is now utterly, thoroughly shot.
I giggle as I listen, intently. It's such a light and happy tune. "Elizabeth and The Catapult?", Taylor asks between strumming. I shake my head and smile, "Haven't heard of 'em, but I think I'm in love!". Taylor laughs, "This is actually a piano song but If you really tried, this could be a duet!". She continues to perform.
'Cause my life's so perfectly funny,
that it still is not.
And we'll be so stupidly happy,
'till the cannonball drops.
And my dreams are ever so tempting,
until they go pop, pop;
Chances are that our love is now utterly, thoroughly shot.
There's a break and Taylor knows every chord. With ease, she plucks away at the strings. The song falls beautifully into a sort of waltz as it nears its end, speeding up then slowing down into a showy Broadway style finish, the final words quick and quirky.
'Cause we're all so-
Perfectly perfect,
but not for long.
And we'll be so perfectly perfect,
'till we're forced to move on.
And we're both so pitifully clueless
to what we've become,
chances are that our love is now utterly thouroughly done.
The more you
think that you're right, chances are that you're probably wrong.
"I want to learn the piano notes for this!", I squeal.
"It's a little tricky, it could take quite a while to learn if you can't even manage a scale!", Taylor laughs. I stubbornly shove at her shoulder. She dramatically falls back on the bed, mocking the strength of my attack. "Oh! Agony! I'll never play again!", she cries.
"Taaay!", I groan. I hop off the bed and stride back to the piano, sitting myself down. "Where was C?", I ask.
"Ella, if you're serious about wanting to learn the notes to this song then we need some energy fuel"
"Energy fuel?"
"Be right back!"
Taylor puts her guitar aside and bounces off the bed. She retreats downstairs once more. "If you're getting food then bring me some bread sticks!"
"No bread sticks! You've gone through two packs this week!"
"Fine", I sigh and begin fiddling with the piano keys, trying to see if I could somehow play the melody of 'Perfectly Perfect'.
A few minutes later she reappears with a tin tray of oatmeal cookies and a vintage looking tea set, the soothing smell of camomile and steam wafting from the spout.
"I want coffee"
"Camomile is better for you!"
"It tastes like grass!"
"Good grass?"
"...No, Taylor"
"Just drink up!", she giggles.
So for the next two hours we eagerly play and and slam keys and grunt frustratedly and yell at each other and kiss faces when we're on the verge of giving up. It's quite intense, really. In a sort of hilarious way.
Taylor takes out her phone to record a brief moment of weakness as I lay my head on the keys, almost in tears.
"Ella's having a bad day", she begins, "She's trying to learn the piano...This is the result"
"Shut up", I muffle, head still down.
"Are you sad, honey?", Taylor continues, voice teasingly cute.
"A little!", I yell, looking up.
She giggles and stops recording. "You almost have it!"
"No I don't", I sigh.
She stands behind me and takes my hands, her fingers intertwining with mine. "Here", she whispers. Taylor guides my fingers around the keys for the umpteenth time.
We continue to practise late into the night. It's 1am. 1 o'clock in the freakin' morning. Taylor hangs her head back over the bed as she lies sprawled out, exhausted probably. "Just...just play what you just played", she yawns. I wake up from my little snooze, my hair sticking to my face. I sleepily do as told. I don't really hear what I'm doing, dreamily moving my fingers in hopefully the right way on the smudged notes. Meredith and Olivia have joined Taylor on the bed, sleeping around her hair. Taylor jolts up, disturbing them from their slumber. "Ella! That's it! That's the tune!", she cries. She quickly reaches for her guitar begins strumming, "Go! Play that right now! Go!"
"Alright! Alright!", I say and start the song. And I really do have it this time. And it's perfect! Perfectly perfect! "Oh my god!", I smile as Taylor sings, overjoyed.
The more you
think that you're right, chances are that you're probably wrong,
Taylor sings. She gasps loudly. "Done!", she cries, "Done! Done! And done!". She puts her guitar down and stumbles up to me. Two long arms hug my tightly and she kisses at my cheek. "Now, let's go to bed?"
"Definitely", I groan.
We eagerly change and dive under the covers. "Let's not practise anything for that long ever again", I sigh, snuggling into her.
"Agreed", she whispers. "My little piano prodigy"
I roll my eyes and then quickly drift away, dreaming of pianos and perfect notes.