So, yeah. Welcome to "God With A Crush", my first chaptered fic. I wasn't really planning on sharing this, but I figured that I hadn't posted anything in a while, so why not? Things you should know before you flame/complain: I'm working on a limited knowledge base here. I've only unlocked SOME Secret Reports and have only heard about the secret ending through the grapevine. Meaning that this work is probably horribly inaccurate and full of continuity errors or whatever. Also, I really just work as this stuff comes to me, and my muses are fickle. Also, I'm in freakin' college now, so there's a time issue. What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't sit on the edge of your seat, waiting for new chapters. Yeah, I knew you were going to. Also, I obviously don't own The World Ends With You or I probably wouldn't be writing Fanfiction about it. Or maybe I would, just to screw with you guys. ;)


"I still feel like he's watching me, you know?" said Neku, leaning against the statue of Hachiko. "Even though he hasn't showed up… I feel like he's not gone." Shiki looked up from her cell phone and pushed her glasses up a little higher on her nose.

"Well, that's probably because he's not," she said.

"What do you mean?" asked Neku.

"I mean, he probably is watching you," said Shiki. When Neku still looked blank, she sighed and flipped her phone shut. "From what you've told me, it kind of sounds like Joshua… you know… liked you." Neku scowled, so Shiki counted off the evidence on her fingers. "He picked you specially, he took a bullet for you, and a lot of the things that you told me he said to you… Well, Neku, they sounded a lot like flirting."

"Please," said Neku, folding his arms across his chest. "I was his proxy. He didn't like me, he was using me."

"To destroy Shibuya, right?" asked Shiki. "And guess what he didn't do, even though you helped him win his game."

"Only you would take that to mean that he…" Neku struggled with the words. "Had a crush on me or something."

"You changed his mind about humanity!" said Shiki, a smile growing over her face. "He was going to give up, and then you changed something in him. It's the plotline to all the best romantic movies. And why are you trying to deny it, anyway? A god has a crush on you. Shouldn't you be flattered?"

"There are so many things wrong with that logic," replied Neku dryly. But when he looked up into the sky this time, he couldn't keep the hope out of his eyes. He wasn't even sure why he wanted to see the Composer again. Not only had the guy killed him, he had also used him as a pawn in a game to destroy Shibuya and made his death a lot more difficult. Still, there was some part of him that still caught glimpses of Joshua in the silvery bleached-blonde hair of the girl who sat next to him in Classic Literature, or when he passed someone wearing black skinny jeans in the Scramble. He would be thrown off guard, and it always took him a moment to regain his composure and get back to what he had been doing before.

"Are Rhyme and Beat ever getting here?" asked Neku, trying to take his mind (and Shiki's) off the subject.

"Oh, right," said Shiki. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. "Beat texted me a few minutes ago. Rhyme's got a cold, and he's home taking care of her." She held out the phone to Neku as evidence, as though he wouldn't believe her otherwise.

"So, we're still here because?" asked Neku.

"Because you were busy talking about your not-so-secret admirer," said Shiki, holding a hand to her face in a gesture that in no way concealed her giggling. Neku shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts and headed away from the statue, Shiki at his side.

"Took a bullet for me," he mumbled. "Yeah, right. After he put one in my chest."

"Oh, Neku," sighed Shiki. "You're still so cynical. Didn't the game teach you anything? You've got to trust your partner." Neku wanted to ask whether she meant for him to trust her, or Joshua, but he didn't know if he would like the answer, so he kept quiet for a few seconds. Shiki seemed to take that to mean that she'd won.

"And speaking of things that haven't changed," she said. "Do you have any pants that aren't falling apart? I think my next project with Eri is going to have to be redesigning your wardrobe. What's your size?" Neku looked around, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that this was where he and Shiki had to part, anyway. Not that Shiki and Eri were anything less than a force to be reckoned with when it came to design, but Neku liked his clothes. That was why he wore them. Besides, he'd only ever seen their work for female bodies before, and he wasn't sure how that would translate over to him.

"Gotta go," he said, holding up a hand nervously. "See you later, Shiki."

"Don't think this gets you home free," said Shiki. She smiled cheerfully and waved before turning around, revealing Mr. Mew strapped to her back like a knapsack. A smile ghosted over Neku's face for a brief second. He walked back home alone, unsure of whether he wanted Shiki to be wrong about Joshua, or totally right.


It was one in the morning when Sanae Hanekoma felt the Composer roll out his arms. His weight shifted off the bed, leaving an empty spot where his warm body had lain just seconds before. Hanekoma opened his eyes to see Joshua standing by the window. He was at his full height, and even though he had turned his vibe down significantly, the moonlight enhanced his slight, godly glow. The Composer gently flattened a palm against the glass of the window. Hanekoma let out a sigh. Joshua hadn't been sleeping well recently, and when he was awake, there was something almost wistful about him, something almost broken.

Hanekoma rolled out of bed and walked to Joshua's side. From the side, he could see that Joshua's forehead was tipped to meet the glass. His light violet eyes were faraway, expressionless in the forlorn sort of way they had been before Joshua had decided to scrap Shibuya. Hanekoma placed a hand on his back.

"What's the matter, Josh?" he murmured.

"Nothing," said Joshua flatly. "Go back to bed, Sanae." Neither of them made any move to leave, and Hanekoma put his head on Joshua's shoulder, his arms around the Composer's waist.

"You know you don't have to lie to me," he said.

"Maybe I want to," said the Composer, holding that cool, even tone. It wasn't exactly unlike Joshua to hold information, even from his most dutiful of Angels. Sometimes he had a reason for it. Sometimes he was just in a mood. But for some reason, this time it felt different. He wasn't just in a mood, he was further away. Hanekoma had sensed the distance for weeks and hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. He wasn't enough for Joshua anymore; he could feel it. The corners of his mouth turning down, he unwrapped his arms from Joshua's body and stepped so that he was standing next to him.

"Maybe I don't want you to," he said. Joshua laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that fell flat as soon as it hit Hanekoma's ears.

"What are you going to do about it?" asked Joshua. It had started to rain, and he traced the path of a single raindrop down the windowpane with a long, pale finger. He leaned his right shoulder against the glass, angling his body so that it almost looked like the raindrops were his tears. Which would have made sense, Hanekoma thought, for a god.

"Nothing," he replied. Then he asked: "What are you thinking?" Joshua's lips parted slightly, like he was about to tell Hanekoma everything, every strange and distant thought that was running through his head, but in the end he just closed them again and turned his eyes back to the rivers the raindrops were making down the glass. After another moment of silent contemplation, he opened his mouth again.

"People move on so quickly, don't they?" he mused. Hanekoma smiled to himself. Now where had that come from?

"I think that they would beg to differ," he said.

"Their memories fade," continued Joshua, disregarding Hanekoma's statement. "They move on. It's not so easy for us." Something cold hit the bottom of Hanekoma's stomach; suddenly Joshua's thought process didn't seem so enigmatic.

"Oh," he said knowingly. "So this is about Phones." Joshua didn't answer. But he didn't meet Hanekoma's eyes, either, and that was just as good as an answer. "You can't get over him. I get it." Hanekoma knew that it would annoy the Composer, but if he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that he was a little annoyed, himself. Neku Sakuraba was the reason Joshua was moving further and further away from him? He didn't like the thought, and he liked the feeling of jealousy creeping up around his ribs even less.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Joshua. But there was something in his scowl that told Hanekoma that he was completely on the mark. Hanekoma sighed. His god was often a cruel god. It didn't help to know that, this time, he didn't mean to be cruel. "He's fifteen. And human."

"So were you," said Hanekoma. "When you met him."

"Only in appearance," said Joshua.

"Don't fool yourself," said Hanekoma. Joshua's scowl deepened. "Just because you look all godly now. You were human once, and fifteen years old. You were fifteen again when you met him, and you took to it pretty well. Being the Composer and everything… well, you grew up fast. You know what they say: never a child, always a child." The slightest hint of a smirk pulled at Joshua's lips.

"Fine, then," he said. "In that case, you're the one having sex with a fifteen-year-old." The comment made Hanekoma squirm a little bit in spite of his best intentions, and for just a second he wished that Joshua were covered up. He had already discussed with the Composer one of his few rules in what passed for their relationship: it was on hiatus whenever he took the shape of someone below consenting age. Hanekoma would not touch Joshua when he took his teenage form – something about it made him feel dirty in a way that he highly disliked.

"Come on, Josh, you know that's not what I meant," he said, backing up, fast. "When it comes to you, age is a lot more complicated than a number, that's all."

"It's not for him," said Joshua. He put his head to Hanekoma's chest in an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Some twisted part of Hanekoma wanted this weakness, wanted to foster it and bring it out whenever he felt Joshua slipping away from him. He knew that he had the power to do it, too. But with their flesh so close together, he could feel that he wasn't the one the Composer was weak for, it was Neku Sakuraba. Besides, Hanekoma knew that was supposed to use his power to equalize things, to set them as they should be, and not to drive the area's Composer back into his arms. Joshua probably never should have been there to begin with.

"If you wanted to see him," he said carefully. "I wouldn't blame you."

"Because what I was looking for was your approval," said Joshua, never lifting his head. "I have a job to do, Sanae, and it's not as easy as you might think to get someone to stand in as god." In spite of the serious situation, Hanekoma let out a chuckle.

"I'm sure we could arrange something," he said.

"I don't suppose you'd like to do the job," mumbled Joshua.

"You've already got that answer," replied Hanekoma. "Never, in a million years, would I take the Composer job. But that doesn't mean there isn't some sap out there who wouldn't wreck the UG in a few days." Joshua looked up at his (Fallen) Angel, a rare sense of wonderment shining in his eyes.

"Why are you doing this for me?" asked Joshua, and it took Hanekoma a moment or two of puzzling to figure out the reason for himself. The arguments against helping Joshua with this were clear: he was the Composer, it would be irresponsible for him to leave his post because of something that closely resembled puppy love, and, perhaps most importantly, Hanekoma was none too keen on sharing Joshua with others. Yet here Hanekoma was, about to help him go off chasing some fifteen-year-old with a bad attitude.

"Well," said Hanekoma. "You were starting to look bored. And no one likes what happens when the boss gets bored."


Neku decided to take the long way home from school the next day. Since playing The Game, his non-social tendencies had gotten a lot better, but after spending a full day with the teenaged noise of school, sometimes he still liked to pull his headphones over his ears and walk alone for a while. Not that his parents would even be back from work by the time he got home from school. With them gone so much of the time, it was no wonder he had become so cut off in the first place. They weren't too fantastic about communication when they were around, either. When he was with them, Neku tended to spend a lot of time reminding himself that they loved him, and that he loved them, too, and that in the end, they were still his family. After getting out of The Game alive, he had realized that he didn't take the time appreciate his parents much, and he had promised himself upon his return that he wouldn't let that happen again.

Almost losing everything really made you realize how much there was to lose. After all, it wasn't just Neku's life that had been at stake, it was also the whole of Shibuya. Blasting Def Märch into his ears, Neku ran his fingers over the graffiti-covered bricks of CAT's Udagawa tag mural. He wondered for a minute if he would be able to find the dark stain of his blood on the concrete below, but then remembered that The Game had fixed it so that, for all RG intents and purposes, he had never been shot in the first place. After waking up in the Scramble and realizing that he was not, in fact, about to start Week Four of Hell, Neku had run home, found his parents, and embraced them tightly, only to find that they didn't remember his death. He played it off, saying that he'd had a rough day at school, and his parents let it go with a few strange looks.

They didn't realize that he was ever gone, let alone that their entire world could have disappeared if not for the whim of some god. Or, if Shiki was right, if not for the crush said god had on their son. But Shiki wasn't right.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neku caught a glimpse of a blue cotton shirt. Damn. Here it goes again, he thought. Now he was going to have to rationalize with his highly irrational brain. A lot of people wear blue cotton shirts. It's not him. Still, he cast another sidelong glance at the figure. Just for half a second. It was the same shade of blue, too, like the bottom edge of the sky on a winter day. The person was walking in Neku's general direction, and Neku thought that he saw a shining of silver hair. Not blonde – silver. Neku cranked up the volume on his mp3 player and kept his eyes straight ahead. The only way to avoid his delusions was to distract himself.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, only to find that it was the person he'd been seeing out of the corner of his eye. The blue shirt and black skinny jeans could have belonged to anyone, but this person was also Joshua's height, Joshua's hair color, and – this was the ultimate determining factor – had Joshua's eyes. Lavender and cool, with just a glimmer of something behind them to make you feel like he was silently mocking you. The boy's lips moved around the words "Hey, partner," but Neku couldn't hear him over the roar of his music. Trying to keep his mouth closed, Neku slowly lowered the headphones from his ears.

"I thought you ditched those at the end of the Game," observed Joshua.

"Joshua," said Neku, doing his best not to betray his utter shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," said Joshua with a giggle. He looked up at the tag mural. "I thought I might find you here. I remembered that you were a fan of Mr. Hanekoma's work." Narrowing his eyes, Neku gave Joshua a visual once-over.

"You don't have a gun, do you?" he asked skeptically. Joshua giggled again and held out his very empty hands.

"If you're not convinced, you can search me," he said, smirking. Neku must have still looked suspicious, because Joshua smirked and said: "What? I can't come back to visit my old friend and dear, dear partner?"

But you didn't, thought Neku. I waited for you, and you didn't show up. Not for the last six months. He didn't say anything, though. Joshua was there now. He didn't need to know that Neku had been searching for him ever since the game ended, seeing him in every person who passed him on the street. It was embarrassing.

"I was under the impression that you hadn't forgiven me, Neku," said Joshua. The smile was gone from his face, and his tone was serious. Neku scowled.

"Did you scan me?" he demanded.

"Oh, Neku, you're so transparent," said Joshua, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't have to scan you to read you."

"Well, I haven't forgiven you," said Neku. That much was true. Joshua had done terrible things to him, things that most people couldn't even comprehend. He had treated Neku like an object, something that he could use to get what he wanted. Because of him, Neku had had to go through trials harder than any life would have thrown at him. He hadn't forgiven Joshua; he couldn't.

But some part of Neku had wanted desperately to see him again. He realized that it was stupid and unreasonable, but he couldn't help it. In spite of himself, he had made friends with Joshua during his second week, and the group just didn't feel whole without him. They could laugh and joke and pretend that there was nothing missing, but they were still dancing around a gap. Or maybe it was just Neku who was pretending. He looked up at Joshua, who had kept silent as Neku pondered.

"Do you even feel sorry for what you did?" he asked. The question was enough to make Joshua break eye contact.

"I…" he said, but he faltered after that. Neku couldn't remember ever having seen him look so flustered throughout the course of the Game. Taboo Noise, near-Erasure experiences, insane GMs, all these the Composer could take in stride, but the question had thrown him for a loop. Even if he didn't admit to feeling sorry about it, Neku thought that this lack of response might just be enough for him. He sighed.

"Do you want to go back to my place?" he asked reluctantly. Joshua looked up and regained his composure within seconds.

"Of course," he said, smiling. "I look forward to exploring the Sakuraba abode." Neku rolled his eyes but smiled. It felt as though some residual burden that he'd been carrying around since he'd come back to life had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Come on," he said, turning in the direction of his home. Joshua put his hands in his pocket and, smiling to himself, strolled alongside him. They had been walking for less than a minute when an idea struck Neku.

"Joshua," he said. Joshua looked up at him, questioning with his eyes. "If you're here, then who's running the UG?" A devious smile stretched across Joshua's lips.

"Oh, that?" he asked. "Don't worry about it, dear; I've taken care of it."


"How am I supposed to hold down the fort when you won't do a damn thing to help?" demanded one Miss Uzuki Yashiro of her orange-haired partner, who, incidentally, seemed to be more interested in perusing the liquor shelf than cooperating with his partner. Kariya rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger and peered up at the glittering array of bottles over his rectangular shades.

"Huh," he remarked, completely disregarding Uzuki's complaint. "I never figured our Composer for a heavy drinker." Uzuki's hand reached up into her hair and began tugging at the short, pink strands in frustration.

"Maybe He wouldn't have to be if some of His Reapers weren't such uncooperative slobs!" she shouted. "The Composer trusted us to keep Shibuya under control until He came back. Don't you care about how this reflects on us? At all?" Kariya shrugged and strode over to the foosball table.

"I think I already mentioned that I'm not looking for a promotion," he said, twisting one of the handles with his non-lollipop hand. "You up for a round?"

"I'm trying to do my job," said Uzuki, although she did look tempted for a second. Kariya released the handle and continued to familiarize himself with the rest of the Composer's home.

"Suit yourself," he said. Suddenly and silently, he dropped to the glass floor in a single motion that made Uzuki worry for a split second that he had fainted, but his eyes were still opened. He extended a fingertip and placed it gently against the glass. A few of the fish that circled the large, blue pond beneath the floor became interested and swam over, their eyes shiny and round like hammered discs of copper, their lips extending from their faces in the expectation of some sort of food. Kariya smiled and traced his finger across the glass, whirling it a few times in loops and curlicues. Most of the fish grew bored when they realized that there was no food, but one, a large red and white koi, followed loyally. Kariya looked up. "Do you think that we have to feed them?"

"What?" asked Uzuki flatly, her lack of inflection indicating that feeding the fish was so far below the bottom of her list of priorities that she couldn't believe that Kariya was even mentioning it.

"The fish," said Kariya. "Do they eat? How would you feed them, if you had to? Think the Composer has some special power to get the food through the glass?"

"If He does, He didn't pass it on to us," said Uzuki, her pink brow wrinkling in concern. "He gave us the job with barely so much as a power upgrade." Kariya pushed himself back to his feet, much to the dismay of his new koi friend, and strode over to his partner's side.

"Hey, don't sweat it," he said. "I'm sure the Composer's got it all worked out. We'll be fine."

"Yeah, if you actually do your job," sniped Uzuki.

"It'll be fine," said Kariya, pulling down a frosted-glass bottle from one of the shelves. "Drink?"

"I'd rather stay sober for the most important job of my non-living life," said Uzuki in a tone that suggested that Kariya might want to do the same.

"Suit yourself," said Kariya, ignoring the tone and pouring some of the liquid into a matching frosted-glass tumbler from the bar. He capped the bottle, took swallow from his glass, and smiled. "I think this is gonna be a fun week."