Disclaimer: The song and characters aren't mine.
Notes: Implied, Shuichi/Yuki. First Gravitation fic ever, so yeah. The song has been edited so it fits Shuichi more but still it just rings of American-ness.
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I had wanted it to be a nice quiet day off, but I needed to work. I had pulled myself out of bed earlier than I would have liked. I always found dawn and dusk my most creative times. The twilight did something for me. I slid out of the bed and onto the floor as quietly as I could, so I didn't wake up my lover.
I pulled on my clothes and glanced back at him. His face was still, I let a smile cross my lips, my heart fluttered. I bent over him and brushed my lips over his pale cheek, before I tip-toed out of the room. Closing the door softly behind me.
My feet barley touched the cold wood as I made my way over to my keyboard. I grabbed the blanket off the couch and spread it on the floor. I sat down on it pulling my keyboard onto my lap. I sat for a moment looking up to the sky. The stars flickered in and out of focus as the sun started to rise on the other side of the sky.
Remembering that I didn't want to wake up Yuki I turned down the volume on my keyboard and made sure it was on a piano setting. I tried to remember what had gotten me inspired enough to wake up this early.
We had talked about something. I frowned, cursing my memory as to what we talked about. I moved my arms behind my body and tried to remember. I had come home late and my throat was sore, I was making myself tea when he had come out of his study.
He said something then. Something about me being awfully quiet. I had pointed at my throat and continued to drink my tea. He said something then something. . . It was a question. . .Some sort of question. . .
Feeling frustrated I moved my keyboard off my lap, and grabbed the remote. I turned on the TV, a wall of sound made me jump a good three feet in the air. I quickly turned the volume down and flipped through the channels. Mostly It was just news, and some cartoons, neither of which I was particularly interested in, at this moment. I turned it off and let out an exasperated sigh.
Again I found my spot on the floor looking out the window I just let my fingers stroke the keys of the piano playing nothing much, just playing. A slow mellow stream of chords came out under my fingers. I looked down and continued to play them over again until I remembered their progression.
"Why do you do it"
"What Yuki"
"Sing. . . When it kills your voice."
That was it. I had been sick for the past week, but now finally no hiatuses because of me, I swore I'd get through the vocal tracks. No more breaks. It seemed like a dumb question at the time to me. Why did Eiri pull all nighters? At the time I answered just like that. I responded on asking him why he wrote.
He shook his head and said, if I had just gotten surgery or something that temporarily debilitated him from writing he would wait to recover until he wrote again. He went on to tell me that by doing this now my voice maybe permanently damaged. I told him that I was better and he just shook his head at me and went back into his study.
It wasn't the simple question that perplexed me it was the greater question. Why did I sing? Firstly it was Ryu. That man had pushed me into the road of music and I have been hitchhiking up it ever since.
But there had been a many detour that could have gotten me off of the path. I had chosen to stay. Was it something shallow? Like money and fame. The thought of fame only brought quick grungy mental images of the subway, Taki, and camera flashes. Goosebumps ran down my arms and I tried to focus on something positive.
Ryu's face filled my inner vision. I had to think back to when I was younger and I was just starting to like Nittle Grasper. I felt the wave of feelings push up through my stomach and down my legs as I remember Ryu's voice the first time I heard it.
I didn't have many friends, I had acquaintances but not like now, not like after I met Hiro. I didn't have anyone who I could really talk to I had Nittle Grasper and Ryu. I didn't have a significant other I had music.
I stopped playing and let myself slowly hum a tune. I hit the record button lest I forget what I was about to sing, later.
"There is this thing that's like touching except you don't touch" It was true, music to me was more intimate than any touch. . well almost all touches. Music had been there for me long before Yuki ever had. Long before Hiro. I always had music. But this new question raised in my head, why was I even bothering answering that rhetorical question.
"Back in the day it just went without saying at all" Didn't it? No one asked about motivation did they? I don't ask him why he writes or Tatsua and his priesthood, never Tohma or Ryu, even Hiro. Why did he have to ask me. He just had to ruin his–
"All the world's history gradually dying of shock" I smirked at my wittiness, and continued to play the somber chords. "There is thing that's like talking except you don't talk" Every musician always sang the things they felt the things they couldn't say, especially to their lovers, who were bound to call them a moron for attempting to be witty. I sighed and stopped playing, losing heart in my work.
Again my gaze looked out the window the sky was streaked with pinks and oranges now, the blue and black retreating pasted the towering buildings, fleeing the busy day. I gain found my fingers on my keyboard.
"You sing. . .You sing" Depressing the white keys below my shaking fingers. I stopped and tried to warm myself up so I could stop shaking. When I felt my body I was warm, I couldn't figure out why I was shaking so hard. Taking my thoughts away from the physical I continued with my song. Thinking back to my career and many other careers of people I admired.
"Sing for the bartender, sing for the janitor sing" Mostly referring to when I was in school and i would walk around the halls and sing after everyone else had left, and my only audience was an invisible man sweeping the floors. Also, referring also to how most people start singing in clubs trying to get themselves heard, and the only one who likes them when the nights over in the invisible man behind the counter.
"Sing for the cameras, sing for the animals sing" Singing in the park trying to think of lyrics. Only to have them ruined much later by a strange man and a bush. I smiled thinking of Bad Luck's first TV appearance.
"Sing for the children shooting the children sing" Mother's crying over their children from the news. Singing, crying, singing a song that only a few know what it means. Song was much more than what I was doing now. Song was all around. Song was. . .
"Sing for the teachers. . . who told you that you couldn't sing" I felt my heart tear in referring to it, but it was true he needed to sing. "Just sing . . ." Again my hands were shaking but I was on a roll and I wouldn't loose it. I ignore it and pressed my fingers into the white keys. Trying to ignore the feelings of butchering that I knew would come later if I shared this with the rest of my band.
I took a breath and let myself continue singing ."There is thing keeping everyone's lungs and lips locked" I knew I wasn't taking about just singing now, not just your voice, you pen, your keyboard, your paint, your heart. "It is called fear and it's seeing a great renaissance" He always said I should read more.
"After the show you can not sing wherever you want" My finger's pushed down on the Ivory keys and I leaned closer to my keyboard. "But for now lets all pretend that we're gonna get bombed. So sing" like it's your last day alive.
My arms broke out in goose bumps, "Sing cause its obvious, sing for the astronauts sing" I looked up at the window revisiting the brief flashes of new from earlier this morning.
"Sing for the president, sing for the terrorists sing" Sing for anything. "Sing for the soccer team, sing for the Jan Jaweed sing" Sing so it's gone. Sing so your not so cold anymore. Sing till you fall in love. Sing till they understand. Sing till he understands. Just sing.
"Sing for the kid with the phone who refuses to sing" I felt my eyes close and small tears leaked out of my eyas and rolled down my cheeks and onto my keyboard. I about wrenched my hands away before I sang out "Just sing" and I knew I had to continue to sing.
I let my hands push against all the keys I could that would make it continue to sound decent. I let my hands take over, and my body began to rock rhythmically back and forth upon my blanket. My eyes peeled sky ward, and The blackness had almost retreated, far away from the now risen sun. I let my voice break free (still quiet enough not to wake up my sleeping lover.)
"Life is no cabaret" I pushed my keyboard down unto my lap. Signing toward the window, singing to all of Tokyo "We don't care what you say." I let my voice sound around the apartment. I ran my fingers over the notes. "We're inviting you anyway" I watched as people started to appear on the streets. Little ants who would never sing, never know what it was to sing.
Tears still pushed passed my eyes. "You. . maybe you will sing someday." My fingers quickly losing spunk as I felt like I was about to break down into sobs. "You. . maybe you will sing someday." I let my and become sloppy I knew what I meant by it. I knew how it should sound, "You. . maybe you will sing someday." I continued to hum to myself and sing to all of Tokyo some sort of strange little song to wake them up.
I let my hands fall from the keyboard. I let my steady stream of tears pass through my eyes, no song I had ever written had done this to me. I stopped my keyboard's recording function and set it on the ground. I brought my knees to my chest and let myself cry.
I felt a hand on my back. Jumping a good foot off the floor, I looked over to Yuki, whose hand had found my cheek, and was quickly pushing the tears from my cheek. His other hand wrapped around me, and brought me against his chest. I swallowed and curled up in his arms.
We sat for sometime watching Tokyo wake up. Not talking, just watching as the streets lit up and people went on with their lives. Not knowing that me, a little pink haired brat was trying to wake them up so they would sing. So they could sing.
"Y-Yuki" I finally said as soon as I felt like I could talk with out breaking out in to sobs. He didn't say anything but I knew he was listening, his arms tightened around me. "How long were you listening? I mean, when did you wake up?"I slowly pushed away from his arms and turned to look up at my golden-eyed lover.
"Long enough." His arms again came around me, and let me rest against his chest. I snuggled against it hoping I wouldn't cry anymore.
Long enough? How much had he heard? Did I want him to hear it? I think I did. I think I wanted him to. I wanted him to hear me sing. Just as I want to hear him sing, not literally of course but to hear him sing, to see him show me, to have him be Yuki. . .my Yuki.
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Song: Sing + the Dresden Dolls, Yes, Virginia, 2006.