Chapter Text
"You know, Neku," Joshua drawls, leaning against the wall, "the UG really isn't so bad."
Neku looks him over, less than amused. He shows up again -- in his house -- for the first time in weeks for this? Neku shakes his head. "I'm gonna stick with living, thanks."
"But it's so b-o-r-i-n-g," he sighs, like he's disappointed Neku would ever consider disagreeing, after all they have in common. "Being a reaper is simply more convenient. Let me demonstrate --" ("No thanks," Neku mutters) "-- choke me."
Neku doesn't react for a moment, certain he'd heard wrong. And then -- "Are you insane?!" He's horrified, hands up like he needs protection from Joshua (or like it'd do any good if he did -- now is not the time to think about that). Joshua's asking him to hurt him, not the other way around, and that stings more than he can imagine, salt in the wound of the last game. Neku never wants to have to hurt one of his friends again; he'd almost ruined everything with Shiki the first time, and that was just selfish fear, while this would be -- premeditated, completely intentional and with everything to lose.
Joshua raises an eyebrow, watching Neku's expression with growing disdain. "Honestly, Neku, it's not as though I need to breathe anyway." He smiles, and it's the same expression Neku'd seen on the other side of the gun. He reaches for Neku's hands --
-- and Neku jerks away, back to the wall, as far from Joshua as he can manage. "N-no," he manages, breathing hard. Shit, shit, shit; Joshua might have not destroyed Shibuya, but he's still dangerous, and never moreso than when he can use Neku as a weapon.
"No?" Joshua echoes.
"No," Neku repeats, more firmly.
"Pity." He sighs and looks up at the ceiling, hand on his chin as he thinks. "May I ask why?"
Neku forces himself to relax; even if he can't let his guard down, it won't help to stay tense. "Why bother," he says flatly, "you already know."
Joshua hums tunelessly. "Indulge me."
Neku huffs and throws him a glare; Joshua watches him with angelic innocence, though the only angels Neku can picture him with are the sort that extol the virtues of cleansing fire.
But there's no avoiding it: it's not like he'd let him change the topic before he's satisfied. "Well, for one thing, you're my friend." And just because that's true doesn't make saying it any less strange: he's not used to having friends, and this particular friendship is bracketed by murder and scheming the whole way through.
"Oh, is that all?" Is that all -- but he doesn't let him interject -- "Because it's hardly as though I'm that easy to kill. I'm the Composer of Shibuya, dear; you would have to want me dead for it to stick."
"What, choking you isn't enough?" That's not exactly the kind of thing you do to friends.
"Neku, Neku, Neku…" he says, shaking his head. "Intent matters at least as much as actions when it comes to the Underground. If you just shot me by accident, -- well, with your imagination being what it is, I could possibly die, but it's highly unlikely. So long as you wanted me to get up afterwards, I'd be completely fine."
"And if I didn't, I'd be the Composer." A win for Joshua either way.
"Why, Neku, you do understand! Congratulations!" He beams. Neku resists the urge to punch him in the face, though he's not sure why he bothers. … Oh, right: the bastard'd probably enjoy it. Definitely shouldn't do it, then.
"… Yeah, still not doing it."
Joshua drums his fingers on the table, the rhythm intimately familiar in a way Neku doesn't understand until he realises: it's his own heartbeat. Well, that's not disturbing. "You know, Neku, I'd almost think you have some baggage."
That fucker--! "I can't imagine why," he forces out, grimacing. "What with you having already tried to get me to kill you, and --" No. He's not going to talk about this.
"… and?" And the asshole looks expectant. Of course he does; he knows exactly what happened.
"I don't want to talk about this," he says, like it's going to matter.
Joshua shakes his head again, watching him like a wolf who's found the odd one out. "Ah, repression," he says, understanding dawning, and if this wasn't his intention the whole time, Neku'll eat his headphones. "Tell me: are you more afraid that you'd do it again, or that your friends will drop you over it like you no doubt suspect you'd deserve?"
Neku really ought to punch him, get him to shut up somehow, but when he tries to grab Joshua's collar and shove him, his hand goes straight through. And the Composer (and it is the Composer, little enough of his partner visible in Joshua's eyes) is harsh, but even as Neku starts to wonder if this is it, this is when his unforgiving trust fails him, Joshua nods and backs off, brow furrowed. "It's over and done, Neku."
"Fuck off," Neku snaps.
"You're not that person anymore," Joshua states, ignoring him, "and you hardly were at the time."
"I said, fuck off," Neku repeats, and Joshua -- blessedly -- does.
Fuck.
That whole miserable conversation sticks with him, though, as much as he wishes it wouldn't, and there's only one person who knows Joshua well enough to tell how much is bullshit. (All of it, probably: just because much of what he says is true doesn't make it less bullshit.)
So he gives it a few days, helps Shiki and Eri with their latest outfit (they can't decide whether they want to make his chest look full or play up his proportions, but it's looking promising), studies with Beat and Rhyme (entrance exams are coming up, and it's still the best way to keep their grades up), pokes at a few of his own projects, and pretty much does everything else on his to do list except go to WildKat for as long as he can justify.
But before the end of the week, he's in the café, pretending to drink some hot chocolate as Mr Hanekoma hums and looks through his sketchbook, pausing briefly on a doodle of his friends in Miyashita Park, smiling wanly at a gesture sketch of Joshua helping Hanekoma in the kitchen, recognisable only through Joshua's mop of hair.
It's a nice moment, and he doesn't really want to ruin it by bringing up Joshua's latest bullshit, but Hanekoma doesn't give him the choice. "I heard Josh gave you a visit," he says casually, once he's gotten to the end of Neku's latest sketches and passed it back.
"Yeah," Neku says, less than cooperative.
"If he's trying to get you to do things you don't want to," he says, serious, "let me know and I'll talk to him. He's a good kid, but …."
Neku seriously has to wonder about Hanekoma's standards. "He's trying to get me to kill him again."
Hanekoma sighs, this long drawn out thing, not so much exasperated as that's the way it goes. "If it's any consolation, I don't think he entirely means it. He just needs to -- push. At everything, especially himself."
"And something about me being able to kill him without him dying, is that bullshit, too?"
Hanekoma goes quiet. Stands up, starts up the espresso machine. "I didn't think he'd try going there with you this soon."
"And that means …?"
He doesn't say anything while he fixes his own coffee, scratching the back of his neck. Neku stirs his hot chocolate. WildKat is rarely silent, even if Hanekoma rarely has customers, but it feels like it should be, even as the percolator gurgles. "Joshua likes … risks."
"I got that," Neku says flatly, "what with the Game and all."
"The Composer can't die by accident, so he's been known to …."
"… ask people to kill him for funsies?" This is absurd.
Hanekoma nods, barely perceptible. "He shouldn't have asked you."
"He really fucking shouldn't have." Neku almost wishes he'd bought a scone to stare at, but all of the ones in the case looked less than appetising. Stale, probably.
Hanekoma rubs at his neck again and lets out a breath. "… Do you need me to talk to him?"
"Nah, I just …." He doesn't want to talk about this, but Joshua was right even if he is completely awful: what is he afraid of? "He asked me to choke him," he says finally, knowing Hanekoma knows exactly what he means.
Hanekoma lets out a whistle. "That's … that's pretty bad," he admits, and Neku's relieved that for once he's not immediately jumping to Joshua's defense. Small mercies.
"And the thing is, I keep thinking about it. Like …." He trails off.
Hanekoma looks straight at him until he meets his eyes. "You're a good kid, Neku," Hanekoma says, serious.
"I nearly killed Shiki."
"But you didn't."
"I still would have, if you hadn't …"
"Neku." He stands over the counter, looking down at him. "You didn't, and you didn't want to." Neku's less sure of that, but he doesn't interrupt. "Sometimes people do bad things when they're in a bad situation. It doesn't make them bad people."
He'd like to trust Mr Hanekoma on this, but it's hard. "… Maybe," he concedes, but he still thinks the person he started the game as … was not a very good person.
"You don't have to believe me," he says, "but either way, you're not that person anymore."
And that much, he can agree with. "But I still keep thinking about it."
Hanekoma pulls a stool over and sits down. Sips his coffee. "And?"
"Is it … is it awful that I keep thinking about what if I did try to kill him? I mean, he's my friend."
"He did ask you to, Neku," he says, stirring his cup, though Neku didn't see him put in cream or sugar or anything. "But Neku -- Josh isn't as easy to kill as all that."
A disbelieving stare. "So what's even the point in asking me? Just to fuck with me?"
"I wouldn't put it past him," he admits, "but … it's a bit of a trust exercise."
"Because trying to kill someone who can't die takes so much trust."
Hanekoma blinks. "He's not immortal."
Sometimes, Neku wonders who Hanekoma is, that he's such an expert on everything. "He's good as," he says instead.
"Nah. He'd die if you wanted him dead; trying to kill someone and actually wanting them dead aren't the same thing."
They're good as, he bites back, but Neku understands that, a little. Just as he hadn't wanted Shiki dead, or Beat him, that second week. Maybe he does get it. "Why's that even matter?" Dodging the real question, but maybe Hanekoma'll give him answers he can use, all the same.
Hanekoma sips his coffee, mulling it over. Trying to decide how much Neku should hear, like Neku isn't already not-quite-friends with the Composer? How much even is there? "You've got a lot of power, kid," he says finally. "Josh likes you, and he likes pushing his limits, and you're -- special."
Great. Neku loves being special; it fills him with reassurance that he's not going to get screwed over by the Composer's latest 'homicidal at best, omnicidal at worst' whim. He doesn't interrupt, though.
"So he likes feeling like he's risking something, and here you are, with more trust for him than he gives anybody …."
"Trust your partner," he mutters, and Hanekoma nods seriously. Trusting Joshua's got him shot, though. Twice.
That must've shown on his face, because he adds, "Look, he's not too used to the RG kinds of affection, so would you at least think about it? For me?"
Dead people are weird, but Mr Hanekoma probably has his reasons, and Neku trusts him, at least. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," he says, because he needs to hear it out loud.
"Never said you did, kid. But sometimes being hurt feels like the best way to show you have control, or that you can lose it, and things'll still be okay."
Neku makes a noncommittal sound, and Hanekoma lets him sit on that, enjoying his coffee and refilling Neku's cocoa when he finishes it. He even doesn't charge for once, a minor miracle, and it's nice. Maybe not the best of circumstances, but enjoy the moment with everything you've got, right?
Even if it is kind of messed up.
He's in rather lighter spirits, having talked about his artwork (he still needs to learn to commit to something, even if it's wrong, but Hanekoma sees a lot of potential) and how his drumming's going, and even how his application for Geidai is going. Hanekoma's uncharacteristic generosity unfortunately doesn't extend to free donuts, but he gives Neku another refill, and then of course once he thinks of leaving, Joshua saunters in like he owns the place.
Which, honestly, he might.
"Heeeey, Josh!" Hanekoma calls, waving as he walks over. Joshua waves back, smug as ever, as Hanekoma leans towards him and says, "I talked to him for you."
"I see," Joshua replies quietly, expressionless. He turns to Neku and waves cheerfully: "Good morning, Neku."
"It's mid-afternoon," Neku corrects irritably, but Joshua just waits. "… Hey."
Apparently satisfied, Joshua smirks at him. "I need to talk to Mr H, but if you would …?"
"Hachiko in an hour? I need to drop this off at home."
Joshua nods and moves out of the way of the door for Neku to pass. "Have a good trip, Neku," he says, and the welcome mat slides just as Neku steps onto it.
Fucking -- he catches himself before he hits the floor and glares at Joshua. "You really couldn't stop from being that much of an asshole?"
Joshua shrugs. "Honestly, Neku, it's not my fault you're clumsy."
"Right. See you in an hour," he forces out. Must he always …. It's not worth it: he's got things to do, and Joshua's just trying to piss him off. Better to spite him when he can. "Nice seeing you, Mr H!" he calls as he leaves, and he hears a "Come back anytime!" before the door closes and he's off.
No one's there when Neku goes to drop his stuff off, thank fuck. He didn't think anyone would be this early, but it's nice to have the confirmation. It makes it easy for him to pack away his larger sketchbook and grab some pocket money without anyone hassling him.
He heads straight over towards Hachiko once he's done with his errands, since he's got nothing better to do, and settles in to snack and draw until Joshua gets there. If Joshua gets there; it wouldn't be the first time he no-showed, not by a long shot.
He texts Shiki and Beat, just in case: If i dont say anything to you by tomorrow morning, joshuas probably murdered me again, sorry. (҂ù_ú)
He gets a u ok dude? and plz try not to die ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡ back, and replies to them both with I think itll be fine so dont worry too much.
There. Worst-case scenario accounted for, and there's worse things he could do with an afternoon than sit on a bench and sketch the passersby, as he nibbles his Sunshine chicken nuggets. It's cool enough that his ice cream'll keep until he's done, and he doesn't think it's a Game week: Hachiko tends to feel different around that time.
Shibuya's a beautiful city, and late afternoon's a beautiful time for it.
"You'd think the tourists would have found something else to do by now," Joshua says from behind his bench.
Neku doesn't jump, but it's a near thing. He glances at his phone to check the time, then turns to look at him. "You're late, you know." Five minutes exactly. Neku'd lay money on it being down to the second; it seems the thing he'd do.
"Am I?" Like he hadn't thought about it. He lightly rests a hand on Neku's shoulder and closes his eyes, mouth moving silently, then hops over the bench to join him.
"Ice cream?" he says, already handing Joshua the second cone. The city sounds that little bit louder -- not like it did in the Game, but close enough that he figures Joshua did something -- but he's too relaxed to want to ask questions he won't hear the answers to, and it's probably harmless enough.
Joshua makes a face, but takes it anyway; it's melting a little. "If you insist," he concedes, licking the drips away with deliberation. A bit goes onto his fingers, and he licks that, too. Neku forces himself to look back at the crowds; Joshua's just messing with him again.
He crunches the last of his own ice cream cone, then turns towards Joshua, not actually looking at him. "So … did you have a plan, or …?"
"I was thinking of taking you back to my place," he says, so casually he might as well have been talking about the weather.
His first instinct's to yell at him for making fun of him like that, but Joshua's hands are closed, tense like he so rarely is, and he might actually have meant it. Neku's never been invited to anything of Joshua's, unless you count the Game; he's always had to do the real legwork, and Joshua would follow it or not depending on his whims, like a particularly aggravating poodle. It's either Neku's suggestions or Mr Hanekoma's; Neku hadn't even been sure if there was anything between the Composer and the Joshua he sees once in a blue moon.
"You have a place?" he says once he's kicked his surprise down. Joshua looks at him like he's particularly obtuse today; what's that for? "… Wait, you mean …."
"Yes, Neku," he says patiently. "The apartment down by the Shibuya River is mine. I am the Composer."
"Yeah, but …." It hadn't seemed like someplace anyone would actually stay. Just some strange secret base for the old Conductor. It makes sense, though, if he thinks about it and squints. "Isn't there a wall there in the Realground? I'm alive."
"I could fix that," he says, leering, but he keeps talking as Neku shoves him. "I raised your Frequency enough for you to get through if you're with me," he explains. "I can't bring you fully to the Underground -- you are alive, regrettably -- but it's close enough for this purpose."
"Huh." He's not sure what Joshua wants, but he might like to find out. And he's caught up on his homework, and he doesn't want to head home before he has to. Maybe they can watch a movie or something. What did even he have there? He just remembers bright lights and fish and a lot of money spent very visibly. It can't be too bad. "Okay."
Joshua's eyebrows twitch, and he smirks. "Wow, Neku, I never suspected you were a cheap date."
"I am not a cheap date!" he squawks. "This isn't a --" Wait. Is this a date?
Joshua's grin widens like this is the best thing he's seen all week. "Yes, Neku," he says patiently, "this is a date."
"Since when?!" No one told him this was a date!
"Neku," he drawls, "I just invited you to my own personal domain -- and as you may imagine, I do not do that often -- after requesting from you a sexual favour, which you were -- while not amenable to -- not completely opposed. Yes. This is a date."
He's going to need a minute to process this. "What sexual favour?" he says slowly.
Joshua looks at him like a particularly obtuse beetle.
Eventually, it dawns on him. "… Wait. That's a sex thing?"
"It can be, Neku." And Joshua is the slightest bit pink, which almost makes up for Neku's spider monkey impression. Almost. At least he's not the only one who's lost some composure.
And wait, shit. "… I talked to Mr H about a sex thing?" Oh god. Hanekoma is never going to take him seriously again.
"He's quite the busybody," Joshua says dryly.
He talked to Mr Hanekoma about a sex thing. He talked to Mr Hanekoma about Joshua's sex things. His life is over -- wait, maybe he shouldn't think that near Joshua.
Joshua looks like he's having the time of his life -- or death, as the case may be. The dog who'd found the bone with the steak still attached. "Now if you're quite finished, shall we?"
Neku buries his head in his hands. At least he figured this out before they'd left, because he's going to need a minute, and taking it in public's a hell of a lot better than at Joshua's place.
Okay.
So Joshua wants him to -- what, pretend to murder him to get his rocks off? How does he feel about this?
… Honestly, less creeped out than when he'd thought it was just to mess with him as part of his weird dead people hobbies. Joshua's still trying to mess with him because he's an asshole, but it's also some kind of weird sex thing, and Neku can kind of understand the appeal of life or death situations. Kind of. Not enough to want to ever need to be in one again. But he can see there is one, and Joshua always needs some new boundary to push.
He's actually thinking about this. Joshua wants weird creepy murder sex with him and he's not rejecting this out of hand.
When did his life come to this, and why is he not bothered by it?
"Is this some weird 'you' thing, or do other people actually do this, too?" he asks, because apparently he's never learned not to ask questions he doesn't want the answers to.
"Thousands of people die from autoerotic asphyxiation each year, Neku," he says. He is way too entertained by this.
It takes him a moment, but "Why?" is all Neku can say to that. "-- And why do you know that!?"
"You'd have to ask Tenho," he says cheerfully. Neku's confusion must've showed on his face, because he clarifies: "The reaper who first stole the microphone?"
Wait, what? "He died from choking himself?!"
Smug. Always smug. "Choking himself while masturbating. Yes."
He could have gone his whole life without knowing that. He remembers not knowing that. It was a happier time. "I really hate you," he says with fervour. "Let's go."
"You lead," Joshua says, and his smile might even be honest. Jerk.
Their trek through the sewers is mostly uneventful, Joshua narrating something about the rivers Styx and Acheron that leave Neku with some inexplicable feeling of déjà vu, though he could have sworn he hadn't heard it before.
Rivers through death, rivers around death. "If vampires can't cross running water, you'd think you'd have trouble," Neku quips, when they get to the little stream that could pass for what's left of the river.
Joshua chuckles, and Neku's boot gets stuck in a piece of sludge. "Real mature," he says, and while he'd kept most of himself out of it, he's still splattered sewer goop onto his trousers. Ewwww.
"Wow, Neku, you really stink," Joshua says, like he's learned something new.
"Thanks," Neku says, "since it's not like you're the one who decided a sewer seemed a great place to stay."
"It's traditional," Joshua says absently.
"Some tradition."
And there's the wall. If Neku squints, he can almost see the tangle of barbed wire and Noise that had been his nemesis during the Game.
"Second thoughts?" Joshua says, watching him. He's staring, he realises.
"Lead the way, O Great Composer," Neku drawls, completely deadpan, and he does.
"Welcome to my humble abode," Joshua says as they walk through the wall, and the sudden light blinds him for a moment.
The place in the sewers is just as ridiculous as it had been in the Game, but now that Neku's looking for it, he can see how this could be Joshua's. Bright, clean lines, minimal design, and the clashing childishness of a foosball table in the back. Of course foosball; his partner watches kiddie TV, doesn't he, so why would Neku expect a little maturity in the secret base for his job as evil taskmaster of the damned. God.
Neku half-expects that if he's got a bookshelf, half of it'll be shounen manga, and not the good stuff.
And he's thinking about anything other than what he's about to do. What a coward.
"So …" He doesn't know what to say.
Joshua's eyes flicker to Neku's boots, covered in more sewer grime than he wants to think about, and he removes them belatedly. "Anything I can get you? I am your host," he says smoothly, eyebrows raised.
"Um …." What did you ask for in this situation?
"A drink? Food? … Sexual favours?"
Neku chokes back a laugh. He'd be offended, but -- that is actually what they're here for, isn't it. Holy shit. "I could go for a shower," he admits.
Joshua beams. He is of course still immaculate, sewer trek notwithstanding. "Down the hall and to the left," he says, pointing. "The towels are fresh."
"… right," and he escapes off to it.
The bathroom is as fancy as everything else, the floor aquarium extending up to form one of the walls, though there's a large reef between the bathroom and the lounge. It's a little disconcerting stripping with some tangs staring at him, but it's not like the fish are going to tell anyone.
He's halfway through his shower before he realises he'd forgot to ask for a change of clothes, but by the time he's out, his own set's cleanly folded next to the sink. Probably from the same Composer talent he'd used for his own clothes; Neku hadn't heard anyone come in, and can't imagine Joshua would pass up the chance for commentary.
This is so incredibly weird, but not bad. Everything might actually be okay, despite everything.
But of course it doesn't feel that way when he steps back out into the lounge. Joshua's sprawled over one of the sofas, having changed into what looks to be frilly Natural Puppy pyjamas, judging by the colour scheme. Neku hadn't even known Natural Puppy made pyjamas, but if anyone would buy them, it'd be Joshua.
It'd almost be amusing, but Joshua's watching him as soon as he steps into view, and he feels like the rabbit that's just found the wolf. A pastel blue and pink wolf, mind, but a wolf nonetheless.
Neku doesn't even have his hair styled right now.
Joshua looks him over, clearly judging, and smirks. "Don't worry," he purrs, "I only bite if you ask politely."
… really? Neku can't help it: he laughs. "Get a new line," he says. "That's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard."
Joshua smiles, and it's like being let in on a joke. "I told Sanae that, but did he listen? I think he might still be using it, actually."
'Sanae' sounds like a name he should recognise, but he doesn't. Maybe one of the reapers. "You can tell him I'll back you up on that one, if you want," he says, and he might even mean it. It's a pretty bad line.
"I just might." Joshua's grin is all teeth.
Neku's sure something is going to fall on him -- nothing goes his way for long, and Joshua keeps being very nearly decent, which can't be a good sign -- but fuck it. Fuck it. He sets his dignity aside, and … "So, did you have a plan, or …?" Smooth, Neku. Smooth.
Joshua hums, thinking about it. He probably has a plan with charts, knowing him, but hell if he'd let Neku know anything about it until the last minute. Neku kind of wonders what's wrong with him, that he's okay with that today. Maybe he won't be tomorrow, but that's tomorrow.
"With Megumi, we usually went straight to it," Joshua says, self-satisfied, "but you probably expect some reciprocation, hm~?"
Megumi. He recognises that name. It takes him a second, but -- "You had sex with your Conductor!?"
"No," Joshua explains patiently, "I occasionally had him kill me for my own amusement."
"That's not any better!"
Joshua honestly looks confused, like it's Neku's fault he sees anything wrong with this. And that's -- holy shit. Either Joshua's trying to piss him off, and that's not a subject anyone should ever joke about, or he honestly doesn't understand why Neku'd be upset, and either way, that's -- holy shit.
Holy shit.
"Is there a problem?" Joshua says eventually, watching him. Not smug, not amused, just -- watching. Holy shit.
Holy shit. "To start with," Neku says shakily, "you just told me you killed one of your exes."
Joshua tilts his head. "We never dated."
"I don't care," Neku states. "He trusted you -- he trusted you enough that you used him for your weird hang-ups -- and you killed him for, for what, a bet?"
"He knew the terms when he agreed to it," and it's not justifying, just laying out the facts, but Neku doesn't have words for how much he doesn't give a shit right now.
"Get out," Neku snarls, and holy shit, but he just said that to the Composer in his own place and there is no way he's getting out of this alive --
-- Joshua looks at him and vanishes.
Neku … is really not sure what to do now. Heading home's not really an option this time of day; they'll be getting back soon and that's one confrontation he'd like to avoid. Maybe he can see if the Bitous would put him up for a night -- who is he fooling? They might like him, but they don't want him around. And Shiki's family's weird about her being friends with boys, even if it grates on him to count as one. He's not sure what they're worried about; maybe that she'd rub off on him or something.
Honestly, what he'd like to do is sleep right here on the couch, even if he's not sure how to turn the lights off. Joshua's not here (he's not sure where he went, but he's not here) and he's so much more tired than he thought he was. Sleep here, maybe skip class tomorrow. It has a definite appeal, if he ignores that Joshua's surely pissed at him and he's probably going to come back.
His phone buzzes: new text. From a number he doesn't know. He checks it anyway:
You may stay as long as you'd like. I won't interrupt.
Joshua. He so does not want to have this conversation right now. Are you reading my mind or something?
Not intentionally, but it's difficult not to when you're thinking about me.
Try harder.
He waits a minute to see if Joshua'll reply again, but he seems to have taken the hint. Small mercies.
Since he's got his phone out, he might as well text Beat and Shiki. Well. I'm not dead yet.
oh good, Shiki replies. did it go okay?
… He's not sure he wants to talk about this with Shiki; Shiki'd just tell him Joshua's an asshole and not worth his time, and while she's right, it's not what he wants to hear right now. It was okay. Ill talk to you about it tomorrow. Going to bed. That's probably good enough.
night
Come on, Beat, reply …! There we go. … Right, his phone doesn't have a real keyboard. thats prolly good
Yeah i wasnt sure for a bit there. Joshs an asshole. On the off-chance Joshua's listening (like there's any real possibility he isn't), Neku makes sure to think it very loudly. Serves him right.
need me 2 punch him 4 u?
He chuckles. If only. Nah i got it. Thanks though.
np
Yaaaaaawn. He really ought to go, though he's not sure where to. Go somewhere where he doesn't have to deal with this callous asshole, or at least not immediately. But … Joshua did say he can stay, and he's not really looking forward to going through the sewers again. If he can even leave on his own, and that's an actual question. Fuck it.
Josh and i had a fight. Im gonna crash on his couch though. Check tomorrow to see if im okay ok?
idk man i dont trust him but sure ok good luck
He'll need it. Thanks.
… right. First to see if he can turn down the lights, and … might as well ask Joshua what he's wondering. Joshua's a shitbag, but the question is how much of a shitbag? So can I leave or am I stuck here.
You're free to leave whenever you like.
It's only the minimum standard, but he still relaxes. OK. Im staying here tonight then. I dont want to see you until tomorrow though.
And that's still the minimum standard, but his relief when Joshua texts back an Understood. is palpable. This is pathetic.
He gets up to turn on the jukebox, and finds out its library contains every band Neku's heard of and many he hasn't; perks of being the Composer, he guesses, and it only takes a few minutes and some yelling to put on a playlist like the one on his player. The lights are a mystery, but either they're on a timer for the fish or Joshua pulls some strings, because they dim on their own.
He settles onto the couch and watches the fish, until he eventually drifts off to sleep.
This evening's fired.