Neku was deadbeat tired when he trudged into his two-story home. The dry, chipping paint that covered the walls happened to be an eyesore, and the evident bags that lined the boy's eyes heaved heavier and heavier as he mounted each stair.

It wasn't just the cloudy skies that hung above Shibuya in a gloomy manner that crafted his pallor – it wasn't the wildly high humidity that engulfed the large city, either – lastly, it also wasn't because his tired body was running on three or so hours of rest. Perhaps that played a small role, yet when you got down to the very source of his sore demeanor, it always came back to something much more... tedious.

Girl problems.

Shiki was his type, so to say. Yet she was so... ugh, irritating sometimes.

She had woken him up at six in the morning, her large eyes wide with anticipation, despite the lack of light outside. Her dainty hands had managed to drag him out the door, half-asleep, barely in proper clothing, to where else but the mall?

He couldn't even remember the boutique's name, could only recall his blinks lasting much longer than they should, remembers the lethargic daze he was in. He was the boy who was carrying piles and piles of fabric and boxes, that of which belonged to the persistent girl who had forced him to come along.

After that boring and tiresome experience, Rhyme and Beat were really keeling for Neku and Shiki to come watch a special skateboarding competition or something. Not an ideal way to spend his Saturday, no, but he supposed it could've been worse.

Then things began to get rather odd. Around half-way through the event, skateboards clashing and clinking against the pipes and metal, Shiki gently slipped her small hand into Neku's own. He had been surprised, taken completely off-guard – but he didn't pull away.

Until he realized that he wanted to throw up.

Not that Shiki was terribly unattractive, of course. She was... well, average, but that was nothing to be ashamed of. She dressed cutely and took care of herself, at least.

He didn't blush, didn't begin to stammer, and certainly didn't feel his heart beat twice as fast. That's what you're supposed to get when you care for someone, right? The lack of sensation caused him to feel guilty, because he should've felt that way or Shiki, his blue eyes sliding to the side in shame. That's why he left soon after, tossing out a half-hearted excuse to appease the disappointed brunette, and striding down the sidewalk.

He felt so dirty, so manipulative as his bare feet padded down the carpeted hallway. The boy's parents were out of Japan on a business trip, but they were rarely home anyway. That's why Neku didn't feel strange about removing all of his clothes before even reaching his room, because god – he didn't want these offending fabrics on his body. He just wanted to burrow into the warmth of his blankets, completely naked, and shut his tired eyes.

Ever since the Game, everything had only gotten more difficult. Things were supposed to get better – yet they hadn't, not in the slightest. Rhyme and Beat were good enough friends, sure, and lord knows that Neku didn't even deserve the pure attentions of Shiki. Yet he didn't exactly have a reason to deny the girl... sure, he didn't have feelings for her, but the real reason why that was so wrong was that he had no reason not to like her. She was sweet, her hair was shiny yet soft, and she smelled like bubblegum. What's not to like?

Sliding the black sweatshirt over his head – which tangled and pulled on his hair in the process – and unbuckling his weaved belt from around his bony hips, Neku was half undressed and completely vulnerable as he opened the door to his bedroom. His sweatshirt was still over his head, blocking his eyesight completely. His clumsy feet stumbled over a few piles of clothing and some books that lay scattered across the floor, but he managed to find a clear space to fully pull the baggy, offending fabric off of his body.

As his vision was no longer obscured by the black cotton material, and his expression was still contorted to match his bitter mood, Neku's cobalt eyes laid view on what seemed to be the most unexpected sight possible.

"What – Joshua?" he spat, torso exposed and nipples hardening from the chill of the air. That didn't occur to him, however, not with a casual and relaxed looking Composer laying in his bed, eyes half-hooded in a sleepy daze. Neku wanted to scream, wanted to throw an absolute tantrum at the other boy. Could he have picked a worse day to show up?

"Good morning, Neku," his pallid features morphed into that of a smirk, albeit an obviously lethargic one. The thin boy's knees were bent comfortably, laying flat against the mattress, and his arms were thrown over the pillow with his face barely peeking out above one of them. It was easy to see that Neku's arrival had awoken the sleeping Composer, his body essentially curled into a comfortable ball of flesh and bone, head resting calmly onto a white, satin pillow with sliver waves of hair spilling over.

"What are you – fuck, what are you doing here?" Why are you here when all I want to do is lay down and die quietly?

"Well, I was sleeping," he began, a cat-like yawn escaping his lips.

"No shit," Neku scoffed anxiously, crossing his arms and cheeks turning red when he realized the lack of clothing covering his bare torso. Joshua simply chuckled at this.

"Why, Neku. If I may ask, what was with that face you were making? Have a bad day, dear?"he shifted, sitting up and crossing his legs. The other boy could only glare, not sure how to respond; it wasn't like telling Joshua his problems would help the situation at hand. That was just a weird idea. Besides, why was he even here? Shouldn't he be out helping Shibuya or something? Isn't that what he'd been doing all those months that he'd left Neku in the dark? Fuck him.

"Doesn't matter," Neku spat toxically, eyes darting to the other side of the room, pupils gradually locating a white wife-beater. He trudged over and slid the cotton fabric over his head, back turned to the other teen who still sat comfortably on the mattress. "Now seriously, why are you here? It's been eleven months since I've even..." a small, frustrated puff of breath slid through his mouth and bounced off of his dry tongue, "even seen you." The boy understood his words after seconds of speaking them; he prayed that Joshua wouldn't take note of how Neku had been counting the days, the weeks, the months. Because really, he could have just said "almost a year" but he didn't; every day counted when things felt like this.

You'd think that'd be a long enough time period to forget the urgent touch of Joshua's hand as it pushed him away from Minamimoto's attack. It hadn't been, though. Hadn't been near long enough to forget anything from the Game – especially the boy who murdered him, befriended him, eventually gained his trust, then proceeded to murder him again.

After his chest was no longer exposed, Neku twisted his head back to Joshua and walked across the room. He stood by the window, quietly observing the darkening skyline and the tall city buildings in the distance.

Joshua hummed in response, "Do I detect a hint of sorrow?" The smug, sick smile that crossed his face practically made Neku swallow a hiccup of bile. Just like Joshua to take a question, completely ignore it and shoot something like that right back at me. Shoot – yeah, he's always been the one with the metaphorical and literal gun.

"Do I detect a hint of douchebag?" Neku shot right back in a deadpan, eyes narrowing and arms crossing once more, his body language clearly spelling out I don't want to talk to you – in fact, I wish you were dead.

"Oh, dear. You really must have had a bad day," Joshua practically purred, patting the patch of blanket beside him. "Sit with me."

Neku hesitated, not able to translate the true intentions behind his words, then scoffed again. "Sit with you? You're the one on my bed," he placed a hand on his dresser in an irritated manner, sighing loudly. Why are you here? Don't leave me alone for so long and then show up suddenly and think it's okay. Make up your goddamn mind, Neku's thoughts festered within his mind.

Joshua was quiet for a long moment, his eyes half-lidded, seeming to be contemplating something. The standing boy gaped, "I swear to god, Joshua, if you are scanning me right now," he didn't even finish his sentence, just trailed off in a sizzling tone of anger. Yet Joshua didn't speak further, only shook his head quietly. His eyes were still trained on Neku, who was currently glaring out the window with his eyebrows knitted together. It was blatantly obvious that he was withholding a petulant tantrum with figurative steel bars, and honestly, Joshua appreciated the effort.

"Neku," he spoke, his voice uncharacteristically tentative, "Sit with me." No longer a question, nor a command; nothing more than a hopeful statement, dulcet to Neku's seething resentment. In an air of deafening silence, the standing boy could only examine Joshua's simple plea. He hadn't seen the other's pointed features in nearly a years time, could only remember them from the dreams that haunted him at night.

He knew that the Composer was actually much, much older than he currently seemed, and his facial symmetry and height had undoubtedly remained the same as it had been nearly a year ago. Joshua morphed into this appearance, after all. There was no reason for him to age himself needlessly... despite that, he had a different air to him, Neku noticed, as Joshua sat inaudibly on his bed.

Without words, Neku gingerly sat down on the white blankets next to the Joshua, and cradled his hands in his lap, each digit fidgeting with one another. His eyes swung upwards slowly, locking with the violet colors of the other. "Why did you come here?" Neku practically whispered, like they were spies from enemy groups, and no one could know they were conversing.

Now it was Joshua's eyes turn to fall away from the other's gaze, bringing his face into profile view to Neku. And now, with the Composer deep in thought, whatever he may be thinking, he indisputably looked unlike the boy he had scrambled around with in the city streets.

Neku had witnessed this expression on Joshua's face countless times, whether it was when he was taking a call from Mr. Hanekoma or merely processing the current situation. Deep and calculating, and undoubtedly familiar to Neku's memory. Yet he seemed… different. He was still Joshua, still appeared to be Joshua, but it didn't feel like he was with the boy whom he sat beside in a table at the Ramen shop during the Game.

"Just – just tell me why you're here," Neku covered his eyes with one hand in frustration – god, I must be going insane. He just looks different because I haven't seen him in ages. Because he left. "Out of all the places in Shibuya that you could nap, why in my bed?"

Joshua scoffed fastidiously, "dear, you have this strange idea that it's easy for someone as important as me to find rest." Neku merely frowned in response, rolling his blue eyes in honesty.

"Oh, jesus. Please accept my humble apologies, my liege, you must have it so rough," the boy drawled sarcastically, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a barely conceivable display of amusement. Joshua giggled, twirling a bony finger around a lock of silver.

"Well, I suppose I haven't exactly updated you on my circumstances, anyway," he spoke truthfully, eyeing the glimmer of mirth on Neku's face. The other, however, couldn't pay his full attention to the conversation. The train-of-thought that contained Joshua looks different why does he look different why would he look different had firmly rooted itself in his mind, distracting Neku from the Composer's words.

There was a pregnant pause, albeit an amiable one. "Yeah, you haven't," the persimmon-haired boy answered, beginning to trace patterns in the blankets adorning his bed. Then he looked upward again, and didn't stop him was from truly examining the face in front of him.

Neku stared shamelessly at Joshua, wondering. His hair, still grayish in color with wavy texture, it was slightly longer, the strands probably falling an inch or two farther down than before. The pointy yet mousy nose of Joshua's, it was... god, it looked slightly elongated, more aged. Just barely, just – just barely.

Why do you look older? Why would you look older? Neku pondered, bringing a thumbnail up to bite at carefully. Joshua swung his gaze back to the other, only to find him staring intently, examining his features. It brought a calm smile to his face, "am I really that interesting, Neku?" The words dropped, accompanied by a gentle giggle.

Neku hesitated, not confident with a response. Jesus, even his cheekbones seemed more defined, if only slightly, and his nose – had there always been those small, light-colored freckles around the bridge? His skin was no longer evenly colored, no longer coruscating in an air of perfection like a God's would. Like... like how a Composer's would.

His lips parted slightly, and all he could muster was a single "no" to Joshua's teasing question. Could it have just been the lighting, how the warm sun had long passed over the city, the evening closing in?

"Neku?" the other boy stated softly, teetering his body forward in confusion at the other's ongoing silence.

"I asked you why you were here, earlier," Neku spoke up, and now he had that little crinkle in between his eyebrows. Neku didn't appreciate being lied to – Joshua had learned that early on.

Joshua simply let loose a hollow, lifeless chuckle. "You are far too persistent, Neku," the words were hushed and somewhat distant.

It took him a moment to gather words, "just answer the question, okay? And… uh, this?" The boy couldn't resist extending his hand to the side, gently brushing his fingers over the bridge of Joshua's nose. The Composer didn't even flinch, the somber expression sticking to his face gallantly. "Since when did you have freckles?" The words were as soft as his touch. "Faint as they are, I know you didn't have these before." Neku spoke, body leaning towards the other. Joshua didn't bat away the gentle touch of Neku's fingers, merely closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.

He eventually removed his hand calmly, placing it in his lap. It was a long moment before Joshua opened his eyes once more, and an even longer moment before he finally spoke. The edges of his lips flickered upwards dully, "you know, Neku. Despite my need for some rest, you're right. There was an actual reason I came here, and I suppose I best tell you," and then he shot his gaze back to the perplexed boy, the one whose eyebrows were upturned in a brutal realization.

The darkening light that accompanied dusk had already swept across the city, meaning the remaining lighting in the room was already quite pale and blurring quickly. The only colors that remained within the darkness of the room were the clear violet orbs that were dead-set on Neku.

"I – I want to hear you say it," traces of irritation rose in his voice once more. He couldn't handle not knowing everything, he needed to hear it or it might not be true.

"How cruel of you, dear," Joshua whispered, seating himself slightly nearer to Neku, their thighs now touching as they both sat on the mattress. Neku would like it think that it was for the comfort of being closer to another person, but he couldn't tell for sure. He could never decipher Joshua's exact intentions, and he always figured that the Composer was too ruthless to ever actually desire the warmth of an actual human.

"I've been expelled from the UG, Neku," he whispered, expression blurred in the lack of light, but his tone was the epitome of solemn. Joshua was so close now, Neku could feel his warm breath on his face – for some reason, he began to wonder if his breath would have been this warm before. He hadn't technically been human, after all. But now... Joshua was no more than a boy. A boy who, in theory, was probably years and years older than how he appeared – but still only a boy, no longer holding the title of "Composer".

There were a million things that he could have said in response, such as "who is the new Composer?" or perhaps even spiteful words, like "you totally fucking deserve this" but the words that cautiously bubbled up from his throat were surprising neutral, his eyes somewhat soft with unexpected sympathy. "How does it feel?"

Joshua smiled lifelessly. "It feels empty," then before the other could speak, he continued. "Well, not completely, I mean. If anything, it feels... more. Emotions seem more intense – much more intense – when you're... human. Which I am now, by the way," he giggled a bit near the end, stretching his fingers in front of his face as his head turned, as if his hands had transformed. They didn't look any different – but if what he said was true, then they were drastically so.

"It was the higher-ups. They... well, we got into a little spat. More of a big one, actually. Huge. Catastrophic – one of them ended up throwing a chair at me," Neku gawked at the other's words, "but it doesn't matter now. That was months ago. I woke up over by the River – completely human, with freckles and all – and ended up walking over to Hanekoma's café... I've been helping him run it. I knew you probably didn't want to see me, so I didn't try to contact you until now."

The lighting in the room was eradicated completely by this point. But Neku didn't feel like standing up and turning on a light switch, because the entire world was flipping upside down right now, and it was practically making him nauseous.

"Joshua," Neku breathed, voice flickering with an unexpected hint of melancholy.

Joshua blew air out through his nose, making an entertained sound. "Yes, dear?"

"… Empty, you said?" He replied strongly, neutrally. He had to act like this wasn't earth-shattering, completely shocking news to him, because Joshua could not know that it truly mattered. He would not grant Joshua that satisfaction.

"Hmm. Shibuya is – was – apart of me. I could feel the surrounding voices inside my head, could taste the sour mood when things became sinister in the streets. All the dreams and optimism that the citizens emanated... I can't feel them anymore." He scratched his wrist in a controlled manner, eyes shifting and pupils adjusting to the twilight blanketing the room.

"But... your emotions, they feel different? What does that mean?" the teen questioned, struggling to decipher the changing expressions that Joshua made in the cover of the darkness.

The other made a "hmpf" sort of noise, one of contained amusement. "Not so much different, just – more free. When I was Composer, a demi-god, so to say, my emotions were muted. Well, no, they were still somewhat present, of course. Just downgraded to a ridiculous extent. Not anything like a human's," a long pause, "I guess I never really understood how gripping human feelings truly are. I'd look down at the city with Hanekoma at my side, and try to understand why humans work the way you do… I never could get it. It got so frustrating for me, I wanted to vaporize all of Shibuya," a self-loathing laugh at the end, it lingered on his pale lips.

Neku was silent for a moment, out of some kind of respect for the other's meaningful words. He didn't let the pause go on too long, though. "Do you... get it now?"

Now it was Joshua's turn let a pause sift through the air, taking his time before answering. Neku felt the sheets crinkle as Joshua was re-adjusting his seating arrangement, but the room was sealed in a vapor of black, and Neku couldn't make out the silhouette next to him in confidence. All he knew was that it was very, very close.

That's when Neku didn't wait. He didn't want to wait for a response, because for an unexplainable reason, he suddenly felt like Joshua was some sort of vampire or creature of the night, and he had been sure that he was about to take a painful bite of Neku's flesh. Neku stood up from the bed and strode across the room quickly, fingertip flicking the switch to release a flood of light into the room.

Joshua was sitting like he normally would, legs crossed, in a faux-regal fashion. Neku blinked and examined him briefly, before walking back over to his bed and seating himself. "Too dark for you, dear?" Joshua snickered, and the other glared.

"No. Goddamn, answer my question."

Joshua muffled his laughter in the crook of his arm, "oh, Neku. If anything, I suppose I understand less. I can feel more, though."

"Good for you," he replied begrudgingly.

"Neku?" Joshua piped, supporting himself on a hand as he leaned slightly closer to the other boy, and Neku merely glanced at Joshua in reply. Joshua took the lack of vocal response in a discouraging way, and frowned.

"What?" Neku spoke tentatively in a very self-aware manner, as if Joshua was catching something that he wasn't. Joshua crossed his arms to match his legs, and tilted his head, deep frown evident. He blew a sigh, violet eyes fluttering to the side in a moment of silence, then he crossed his vision back to Neku.

"Please don't hate me."

Joshua wasn't usually this straight-forward, but Neku shouldn't have been surprised – the former Composer had never been predictable, after all. Despite that, Neku's mind reels back in time and tries to remember a time where Joshua openly displayed weakness like this. He can't recall such.

His lips fall apart, searching for the right words. "I… Joshua, I don't really hate you, you know. It's hard to keep hating someone for so long. I'm just… angry. I mean, you never even apologized."

"I had reason for what I did, Neku," he responded, two fingers gently rubbing at the blanket.

"I'm not saying you didn't. Wait, no, actually – I am. Fuck, man. You shot me on two separate occasions," his voice elevates volume as he speaks, because now he's thinking more and more about it, and goddamn he remembers the pain and the hurt that splattered across his heart, like black water flooding his brain. The animalistic insanity that painted itself blatantly over Joshua's eyes when he pulled the trigger, the satisfied smirk of victory, it stained Neku's memories.

Joshua's tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip in what seems to be a nervous gesture, but Neku still doesn't believe that to be genuine, even if it has reason to be. "I didn't let you and your friends die. I wouldn't have."

Neku scoffs, dismissing the other's words. "Like I would've known that? You could've given me even the slightest inkling of a hint, you know. Excuse me for assuming what seemed to be obvious."

"What was so 'obvious', Neku?" Their gazes are locked together now, because Joshua seems oddly invested in what Neku is saying right now, and it's pissing the Neku off, because he never seemed to care before – and it's confusing him. Maybe even weakening his resolve, if only barely.

"That you hated me. That you enjoyed torturing me with your insane mind-games, that you took some sick pleasure in gaining my trust and then abruptly throwing that right back in face." Neku spat toxically, angry and almost embarrassed now, because he's told this to Joshua so many times in his mind before that the words are embedded into his brain.

"I never hated you. Ever." Joshua suspired, eyes trailing up to the light bulb in the center of the room. A sharp breath, "before you can say anything else," Joshua led a deft hand to Neku's left cheek, surprising the boy – he didn't swat the hand away, for the abrupt affectionate gesture soothed the hurt. "I never could understand why you didn't shoot me at the River. You cried for me, Neku. I… no, I could never hate anything about you."

Joshua's touch was unexpectedly warm, his features sincere as his lips moved to speak. Neku still didn't understand what he was really trying to say, though. "Wait, but – but you sent a bullet through my chest, I figured that was like a final blow, a last message of spite –"

"You're stupid, dear," he interrupted, yet he smiled sweetly and genuinely as he spoke. "No," he murmured again, reassuring.

"Oh…" Neku muttered, not really sure what to do now. He thinks about the fingers gently swaying against his cheek, and how they were the same to shove him from Minamimoto's beam of death. His savior, yet at the same time, the same digits that held that metal gun, barrel pointed straight to his chest. The same to pull the trigger. This hand… Joshua's hand, the hand of the Composer, of his murderer and of his lost friend.

"Why couldn't you shoot me?" an undertone of intensity accompanied his words, because the other's answer truly mattered to him.

Neku's blue eyes stared back, empty. His tongue felt dry – he didn't want to respond. One of Joshua's fingers swayed to the right, curling gingerly around a snippet of Neku's hair.

"I couldn't shoot you because – I don't really, uh. I don't really have an answer, Joshua. I just couldn't, I really wasn't able to. It's – it's like, when you're standing at the top of a building and you instinctively stay away from the edge, because you might fall, and that's an obvious hazard. It felt like shooting you – was hazardous to my own being. Like it just wouldn't work, like I'd be shooting myself or something."

Neku was expecting a tease in reply, or maybe a infuriating giggle. Yet Joshua's features continued to soften as Neku had spoken each word, and all the other boy could whisper was "nice analogy, dear."

Joshua gently removed his hand and glanced away in an air of sadness, which Neku caught quite quickly. "Hey, hey," his eyes narrowed, "dude – what it is?"

The silver locks hid his face, but his expression was visible in the melancholy tone. "It's nothing, Neku. I think I'll be taking my leave, now. It was nice to see you," he stood to his feet, leaving Neku sitting in a daze on the mattress. Joshua turned to the other, and kneeled down close to his face, to whisper in his ear. "Also," a sad ribbon of laughter spilled from his lips, "I really love you too much to hate you, dear. Far too much." With that, Joshua placed a quick peck on Neku's pale cheek, and left the room. He turned off the light on his way out.

Neku sat in a deafening silence, pupils slowly adjusting to the darkness having spilled into the room. Joshua's lips had been warm - and suddenly his phone vibrates inside a denim pocket, and he's reaching for the device. The screen illuminates his features in a neon-white light, a little white envelope on display, along with the name "Shiki", and the boy reads the message he received aloud.

"Masquerade next Friday, please go, let's celebrate the beginning of summer together... motherfucker."

xxx

A/N: Ahahaaaaa, I'm leaving for London in four days, but I wanted to post the first chapter of this before I left. You guys - gah. I have this entire story all neatly planned out, and I am SO excited to continue it. If you enjoyed this chapter, please review? It makes my day ^_^ haha.