Disclaimer: The work here is fanfiction, and has no benefit or profit to the writer. The respected characters and character traits in this story do not belong to me. Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. None of these belong to me.
Please enjoy.
If Eiri Yuki were an instrument, he would be the piano.
Of course, he wouldn't be something like a simple, modest wooden piano, left sitting in the living room. No, he would definitely be a grand piano, best set in a luxurious concert hall, only with the most skillful and prestigious players. Certainly one of the most beautiful of instruments, both sought for and popular. It was an instrument that most people, at one time or another, expressed an interest in. They were so appealing to look at- almost a feat in human design and craft, more or less one of a kind. Smooth, polished wood, skillfully manipulated into every crevice, every shape, every dip and curve. Solid, sturdy legs hold up a nearly flawless body. It was almost intimidating. But much like Eiri Yuki himself, unbeknownst to others, there was too much under the surface for most people to even consider trying to handle. You knew it could be conquered, destroyed or figured out; it was just a matter of how. It was enigmatic, almost fantastic. There was so little to it on the surface, and yet once you really took it in, it could have you scrutinizing its every shape and action for hours. All in all, it was mind-boggling, like a riddle you just couldn't decipher.
The real purpose of a piano was, of course, the music. Some can sit enraptured by the sounds for hours. Though, being Eiri Yuki, he would definitely be no Moonlight Sonata, no Ninth Symphony. There was little joyful about his music, and the times that it did invoke happiness were few and far between. The majority of the time, you felt downright ignorant or belittled around him, and you wondered why you listened in the first place. In spite of which, you stayed and listened anyway. No matter how painful the music was he played, there was something that made you want to listen. But when it did make your heart flutter in that wonderful way, since the times were so little, you had to treasure those moments. Sometimes, it was even shocking, for when you least expected it, it took your breath away. That had to be the most wonderful- and most terrible- thing about Eiri Yuki. You had no idea what music he was going to play. You just had to sit back and listen, and if you listened closely, he might just surprise you. It was baffling, really, how quick something so pretty could turn against you in a heartbeat.
But one of the most fascinating things of the piano was all of the mechanics involved in it. Few took time to consider all of the intricacies that lie in the work of the piano. If you took apart the piano, it would have hundreds of wires, of gears, of levers that let you hit just the right note at just the right time. Everything had to have a certain circumstance. The strings had to be tightened just so. The stool had to be so high. The keys had to be just this size, and with just the right amount of pressure to produce the desired sound. If even one key was broken, it could ruin an entire symphony in one false swoop. It was so complex and marvelous, like a mechanic's dream. Those who didn't know how to handle it right would find themselves helpless if it was left broken, wishing to give up. If everything was in place, you felt like you had accomplished the insurmountable. In a way, you had. Much like Eiri Yuki, the piano could definitely be a bit difficult, but if you had the patience, you would undoubtedly be glad you put in the time and effort.
Yes, Eiri Yuki would definitely be the piano. There was no arguing that.
However, if Shuichi Shindou were an instrument, he would be the human voice.
Some would argue that the human voice is not, indeed, an instrument. But you have to wonder; why not? Was it because it was a result of the human compilation, and therefore less of an instrument and more of an accessory? It was controlled much like other instruments, and only with talent and practice could it be mastered. You could learn to love it or hate it, use it for benevolence or sorrow. Surely, with such a wide range of music, of melodies, of potential, it could be considered an instrument? It was certainly musical enough. Though, Shuichi wouldn't be best suited as the voice just because he is a vocalist by trade, far from it. Much like the violin, it could be soft, sweet, almost like a lullaby for some time. But the next minute, could make any listeners gasp with the intensity and conviction filling every fiber of its being. It could be wild one moment or calm and collected the next. You certainly don't know what's going to happen, but for some reason, that made it all the more appealing and exciting. Much like Shuichi himself. But the human voice was unique in one certain aspect. It was not a tangible object. It need not be polished, or carried around in a case. It didn't need to be handled like a treasure, delicately held in your hands in a certain position or precisely played. You could "play" it anywhere, anytime, and any place. All you needed was the opportunity.
But the best thing about the human voice was it wasn't something you had to buy- or even could buy. It wasn't something you had to pay for or give up something to get. It was a blessing, a gift that everybody could love and nurture, choose it to take it up as a craft or don't. You could do with it what you would, containing the widest and most spectacular range of emotions. There were no lies when you sang; there was only the truth. But of course, because of those same reasons, the human voice was fearful. You were bearing your soul to the audience. You had no choice. It was like tearing page after page of your diary out and scattering them to the wind for the entire world to see. Because of the risks that these passions invoked, little people took that path. They dreamed of it, they aspired to it, but in the end, there are only a handful of souls that followed it through. It took dedication, resolve, courage, and maybe a bit of foolishness, or a bit of stubborn pride. Anybody who came in contact with Shuichi Shindou knew he certainly wasn't deprived of that.
Yes, Shuichi Shindou would definitely be the human voice. That was irrefutable, for sure.
But there was something even more beautiful than the pianist's keys, playing in silence. There was something even more awe-inspiring than a singer pouring their soul into every single note, giving it everything that they had. It was when they played together, in the perfect combination of harmony and melody that was truly amazing. It could be darkness or light, night or day, the sun or the moon, it didn't matter. If it was done right, they could still blend together, creating something unheard of. They were astounding in their own right when they were apart; there was no denying that. But when together, there was something special. Whether the other knew it or not, they were better off with each other than without. They just had to get it through their heads first.
Author's note: This is just some drabble that I had in my head. I might make it into a series of drabbles, who knows.