Try again, he smiled.

She pressed her fingers harder into the strings, and he squinted his eyes till they were almost shut with a frowning brow, his lips mouthing 'E minor' like a silent prayer.
His expression could be mistaken as an exemplary image of pain, had he not suddenly flown his eyes open with a funny grin the moment she hit the right chord.
She looked up, lips pursed into a smile, big, big round eyes looking up at him like a child who just learned trick of tying her shoe lace. They both started laughing, and he punched the air. She though, kept her index finger tightly pressed to the chord, too scared to move;
"What if the flow breaks?"

Now it was his turn. He took the smaller guitar, suddenly finding himself frowning at the fact that she called it a Ukulele at first. She giggled looking at his face, she knew the culprit of that frown.
He started playing the next few chords, looking at the guitar as if talking to it. Asking for it to understand even the reverb to be heard at every chord. While she stared at his hands playing with the six strings like a child colors with crayons ; careless, effortless and carefree.
   She looked at his face with burning intensity, trying to pin point every emotion that crossed the flawed desert of his face, hoping to replicate not just the melody, but the cause behind it.
He looked up, and motioned her to play. She tried, hit the wrong chord and flinched. She tried again, failed again, tried some more, failed over and over again. She flinched. She didn't want to disgrace what he just played. She didn't want to usher away that soul that lived in those three strange, simple yet gorgeous chords. Her hands froze, her lips pursed ; the smile was gone.

He smiled and led her hands back on the guitar,
"The second try's always awful!", he said faking exasperation, looking straight into her eyes.
"Try again."

And that, was the first of many tries, of countless frowns, of sly grins and flinches, of ugly fingernails.

"Try again." ; he's nod.
And she would.  She would try again and again, and again...and as she played, he squinted his eyes, almost shut, frowned brows..and smile.
And slowly her eyes closed,too. She bent down to the guitar while she played, fumbled, played again.
And he'd listen with his face screwed up, hunting perfection with his eyes closed, bending toward the guitar.
And as her finger skin ragged more and more, the two of them sat close, heads bent towards each other, noses at a pin's distance, with eyes tightly shut ; outlining forced wrinkles on their youthful eyelids.. and both their foreheads had lines which echoed concentration, their minds unaware of everything and their heartbeats throbbing to the six string's tale.

...and as she hit a wrong chord, the illusion broke.
She flinched.

"Try again.", he smiled. 

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Awaiting feedbacks duuuh :-)
-Nil.