Disclaimer: Second person to guess what goes up here wins temporary ownership of Square-Enix. I kid.
Title: Such a Tragic Misunderstanding.
Summary: "There is nothing wrong with him, but then again, maybe it's everything that's wrong with him. Maybe he was never sane to begin with." Joshua-centric one-shot. Pre-3D, TWEWY spoilers.
Rated: K+ for slight language.
Genres: Angst, tragedy, hurt/comfort. If you want happy stuff, please leave. Shimmy.
Characters: Joshua, Neku cameo, mentions of Shiki, Beat, Rhyme, Mr. H and Eri.
Warnings: Spoilers for everything in TWEWY. Well, maybe apart from Sho's papa in Another Day. Or the Crayon Warriors. Also, possible OOC-ness.
A/N: Inspired by TV Tropes and the Fridge Horror section within it for 3D. Basically, that thing spawned most of my headcanon for how Shibuya was destroyed, and how the Shibuya crowd (as 3D so fondly refers to them as) ended up in Traverse Town. Hence, most of it is in here, and it may not make sense to you. I apologize.
No, scratch that; this whole fic makes no sense. It's basically a bunch of tiny, fragmented sections all mended together in some attempt to make some sense. With failed angst.
All of that aside, hope you enjoy!
Joshua just can't put his finger on it.
Of course, it would help greatly if he actually knew what the 'it' was in the first place. Maybe it was confusion. Maybe it was uncertainty. Maybe it was lies. Maybe it was the truth.
For one of the few times in his unlife, Joshua doesn't know.
This absolutely ires him, because he hates not being in control, not knowing what will happen next, having to leave everything up to destiny. It's pathetic. It's a sign of weakness.
Or maybe it's a sign that he's human.
Whatever 'it' is, Joshua doesn't like it one bit.
The voices in his head have started to whisper that he was the one who destroyed Shibuya.
"You destroyed Shibuya. It's your fault."
Of course it isn't his fault. How was he meant to predict that those... things, those horrible fleeting shadows that left behind blazing colours of destruction everywhere they touched with those inky claws, would manage to destroy Shibuya so quickly? Those... Heartless, or whatever it was that Sanae had called them when the two of them were frantically fighting them off from WildKat; who knew that they were so powerful?
Powerful enough to drag them across to a strange, unfamiliar world that isn't on Earth, that is somewhere else completely. The people here seem to be trapped in the nineteenth century; the looks that the five were given are more than enough proof that Shiki's bright green and yellow baffles their dull usage of grey, brown, grey, black, and more grey. The colours of the town reflect the personality of the citizens, too, but given that it is essentially a sanctuary for those without homes, it's acceptable.
The people here are so imaginative. They wouldn't even survive ten minutes in the Reapers' Game, he bets.
Speaking of people, an elderly woman is peering down from above, her bulky form struggling to hold against the thin windowsill. Her thin eyebrows are pulled into an evident look of discomfort, ghastly hands gripping the brick walls tightly.
Well fine. He isn't that ignorant.
He pushes himself off the wall and walks off to find where everyone else has gone.
What he finds in the First District nearly makes him sick.
The sheer amount of emotions flying around the four is too overwhelming for him to even begin understanding; Neku is smiling his strange, hesitant, uncertain smile, Shiki is beaming widely and shooing the others (and for some reason, is in Eri's body, so she's probably putting up a façade), Beat clearly doesn't understand what the hell is going on, but hey, as long as he has his beaming sister by his side, he'll be fine, and Rhyme's trying to keep everyone's spirits up.
Shiki looks up, no doubt looking for Joshua to join them.
When her curious eyes lock with his, he breaks off and refuses to admit that the feeling of loneliness within him is only growing larger by the second.
He can't be lonely. He can't have emotions. He's only a heartless boy. He is the Composer.
...The Composer of what, exactly?
The very city that he destroyed, perhaps?
He stops abruptly at the large door, his cold hand clenching the colder handle. It's the only thing that he can be certain of, that the handle's there, but he wouldn't put it past destiny to make it crumble underneath his grip.
That's what happens to everything, isn't it? Everything he touches breaks. Nothing ever stays. Life flew by, death refused to embrace him, and now Shibuya is most likely nothing but ashes.
He can sense Shiki's curious gaze, even if it is on his back, as she breaks off the small, sickening hug and walks uncertainly towards the ashen-haired blond. He's through the door before she can reach him, because she wouldn't understand, none of them would understand, so what's the point in even trying?
He slides down against the brick wall, ignoring the rough bumps as he falls down to the ground limply, looking down, refusing to acknowledge anything around him, because nothing belongs to him any more. Nothing is in his control any more, and he doesn't know this foreign feeling that makes his heart hammer furiously and his eyes widen, but he thinks it might be fear.
After all, if he doesn't have Shibuya, just what is left for him?
It's a couple of days later that Neku begins to send those small; no, tiny, but still concerned looks at Joshua. It first starts whenever the five of them are taking in the sights of the strange new world, just ideally walking around what has become known as the Fourth District.
Right now, the Bito siblings are off eagerly exploring some strange activity called 'Flick Rush' (it sounded like it was for children), while Shiki is cheerfully peeking from shop to shop, fussing over everything ranging from woolly stockings to star-crossed headbands, and anything in between.
Which, of course, leaves the two socially-awkward boys in an even more socially-awkward silence.
Well isn't this fantastic.
Joshua looks up from his phone and flips it shut for the fifth time in a minute. He notices that Neku is staring at him. Again. He's caught the orange-haired teen every time that he;s looked up, his eyes creased with something that looks strangely like worry.
Ha. Why would Neku worry over him?
"Neku, are you stripping me naked with your eyes?"
Instead of it being replaced with a snappy remark and a roll of deep blue eyes, the frown only deepens.
What.
Neku Sakuraba has never made much sense (why didn't he shoot him all those months ago why what would he have gained from not killing his murderer why didn't he shoot), but this is ridiculous.
He still looks as worried as ever, as the boy starts to make his way over to the corner, which is where Joshua's standing, arms and legs crossed, head held high. Nothing wrong with him. He's fine.
For some reason, he runs off before Neku can reach him.
There is nothing wrong with him. Despite Neku's frowns and Shiki's lingering gazes and Beat's silent staring and Rhyme's observant worry, there is nothing wrong with him.
Nothing.
At.
All.
Joshua finally acknowledges that (maybe, just maybe) something is wrong with him whenever he begins to lose arguments with himself. He's been bickering with himself for the past few days, fighting over matters such as if soda or lemonade is better, or if he should have shot Neku in what seems like years ago for a game created out of a mixture of boredom and desperation. It's not like he has anything else to do. He can't waltz up a solution that'll send them all back home in no time, some kind of miracle.
Life doesn't have miracles. Life only has pain and suffering and betrayal and empty truths and false promises. He's learnt that much during the too-long time that he was alive, and he doesn't plan on letting himself repeat those mistakes again, especially since he knows that he's along the living again. He can feel his heart pound rapidly against his ribcage with each breath, hammering furiously with every step.
Joshua swears that it isn't meant to beat this fast.
His phone slips out of the palm of his hand yet again as he anxiously checks for something, anything. It lands with a painful thump against the tiled floor of the rooftops of Traverse Town, stopping only when the large battery tumbles out and misses a puddle of rain by a few inches. He doesn't bother to pick it up this time, because what is the point? Nothing's happening, he can't do anything, he's completely and utterly helpless, and Joshua isn't sure of how much more he can take of just sitting around, doing nothing, waiting for destiny to take control. Even since he willingly entered the UG of Shibuya, he's been the one in control, the person who defined what way the dice would land, if it would be a second chance at life or a second chance at death. To have someone, or something, else controlling his path... if he didn't know any better, than he would say that he was scared.
But fear is an emotion that only humans feel. Even if he is one of them now, he isn't going to forget the ice that swallows his Composer self so easily. It's impossible to thaw, no matter how strong the fire that burns around him shines, and that's exactly the way he wants it. Emotions are for the weak.
But he's starting to doubt even that.
When Joshua rests his head on his hand, watching the night stars overhead dim in and out, he vaguely notes that his hands are wet.
Why are they so wet?
That's when he notices the raindrops pouring down from the darkened sky, dripping off his face and his hair and his shoulders like-
His breath hitches.
Those shadows. They fell from the sky, too. They fell from the sky and soared from the ground and leapt out of buildings and every other possible way that shadows can possibly move.
Is nowhere safe?
It's when he starts waking up in the middle of the night, from nightmares about drowning in eternal shadows and Sanae shoving him off the top of buildings into the darkness and the shadows coming to life and Neku shooting him with a smirk that Joshua realizes that his hands are shaking far too much.
He tries to stop them, clamping one pale hand over the other.
He doesn't know why he isn't surprised when it doesn't work.
Well this is fantastic.
If he doesn't understand himself any more, how on earth is he meant to be able to save Shibuya?
When he does manage to catch fleeting attempts of brief rest, he always has a light on. The small orb flickers as he turns and tussles, attempting to find a comfortable spot, but he ends up facing the ceiling, eyes blinking awake.
No, he isn't scared of the darkness.
He's frightened of what lurks within.
"Joshua?"
Said boy stiffens at Neku's question, but he quickly shakes himself off it and begins to walk just a little bit quicker. He needs to find somewhere with no shadows, if such a place even exists in a town as gloomy as the one they're in. He's not afraid, he just doesn't wish to suffer the same fate as Shibuya.
...Then again, didn't he bring that fate upon it? Wasn't it his fault that Shibuya was gone? If that was the case, then the shadows would follow him forever, taunting him with nothing but the honest truth. He hasn't seen them yet, but it's only a matter of time, everything's only a matter of time.
After all, the Heartless come from darkness. He's learnt that much from the many nights he's spent hoard up in the tiny house in the Third District, drinking in whatever knowledge the papers within can give him. Often, notes relating to a man named 'Squall' and a girl named 'Yuffie', with occasional mentions of a gentle 'Aerith' and a silent 'Cloud' sneak their way in the stacks of dog-eared papers, but he ignores them.
The Heartless come from darkness within one's heart. Technically, Shibuya's heart is the heart of the Composer.
...Would that mean that the Heartless came from his heart? So he truly was the one who destroyed Shibuya. It wasn't anyone else. It was him.
...Maybe he should head to the fountains. That would be the best place for it, and besides, no one would miss him. They all hate him. If he was... if he was to go, they'd probably cheer, glad that such a whining menace was no more.
Joshua wouldn't blame them.
Without a warning, Neku's hands slam him roughly against the large wall near the entrance to the Fountain Plaza. He quickly moves them so that Joshua isn't able to squirm out of his hold, holding his wrists firmly against the wall.
Joshua notices that Neku's hands are freezing against his hands, like icebergs. The teenager apparently notices this too, since his own hands begin to shake.
"Damn it, Josh, what's the matter with you?"
He snarls, "Nothing!"
Neku snarls right back, shoving his face right next to Joshua's, so close that their noses are almost touching. Pure, unconstrained anger is scrawled over his facial features, as clear as daylight. "Yeah, right, because sleeping with the light on, waking up in the middle of the night, never talking to us, refusing to look at me, is nothing!"
...He had been what? How did Neku know all of that?
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me!" Neku hisses furiously. "Damn it, why won't you tell us!? We're your friends!"
Oh, that was rich. Friends? "Oh, I apologize, I was under the impression that you all wanted me dead!"
Neku looks taken back at the blond's rising tone in the near end, making him sound near maniacal. Joshua is just as surprised, because where had that come from? Neku narrows his eyes again, but now there's concern written across them, like an open book. "...Just because you killed me doesn't mean that I want to kill you."
"It would be a valid reason."
"...I know, but I won't. I... I won't stoop that low." He can hear the "I'm not you." not spoken at the end.
"What if I wanted you to?"
Neku's lingering gaze at the floor immediately snaps back up to Joshua's, deep blue eyes meeting exhausted violet. "W-what!? That's insane! W-what the-"
"-You heard me."
"Joshua, that's..." For one of the few times in his life, Neku looks genuinely lost for words. His hands shake some more. "...What's happened to you?" he eventually manages to choke out.
"Not-"
"-Shut up, damn it! What's wrong with you!?"
That's when Joshua finally breaks, because he's so damn tired of pretending all of the time, of always putting on empty smirks and hollow banter and just not being himself. He can't do it any more. What's the point? If he can't fool himself, then the others would be able to see through his mask as if it was glass. Delicate glass, ready to shatter at any second. That's what he feels like.
He slumps down to the ground, all fight lost, and he barely whispers the next words, "Everything. Everything."
And it's only then that Joshua realizes that maybe, just maybe, he can't handle everything himself, no matter how much he wants to.
"...I need help..."
"Please."