Chapter 3

He didn't remember getting there, really. If he thought on it, perhaps he could recall snippets of the trek over to the WildKat. Most of it was a blur. A mental snapshot of him, at home, reading Mr. H's message and then a snapshot of opening the door to the empty café. The main issue wasn't the journey. It was what he feared that the artist would say when he got there. Streetlights flickered on outside.

Neku saw Mr. H. leaned up against the counter messing with his phone. At the sound of the door chime, he glanced over the top of his sunglasses.

"That was fast, Phones. You must have hauled it."

"I think. So what is it?"

Mr. H. rubbed the back of his neck with a palm, grimacing.

"First, before I tell you, I'd ask that you keep all questions, comments, and exclamations until the end. Let me say what I got to say."

That was a little unsettling. "Um, sure."

"Anyway, here's what's up. You called me on Tuesday to ask if I'd seen Josh. And up until that point, truth be told, I hadn't seen him. But…" Mr. H. paused, "the day after, so I guess that'd be Wednesday, he popped into the shop. Before you freak out, the first thing he said was 'don't you dare tell anyone that I'm here.' Now you get why I'm less than thrilled to be the bearer of news. Where was I… oh yeah, right. J waltzes in here and asks if I can deactivate his phone. No explanation or nothing, his usual demanding self.

"Of course, I can't bombard him with questions, or he'll up and leave so I start with the obvious task of his phone. He tells me that he just needs less distractions for a while. And yeah, I deactivated his phone, otherwise he'd probably leave it somewhere. While I actually have him in the shop, I tried to get additional info out of him. Which is like trying to get blood from a stone, if he's not interested in parting with his thoughts. The only real answer I got out of him was that some problem has been on his mind and he needed time to sort it out. Or as he put it 'without people breathing down my neck'. After dodging my questions on what this problem is, if it was family or school or personal and he said that it was 'bigger than that' and shut up.

"I gave him his phone back. J pocketed it, and left with a wave. So," He concluded, folding his hands on the top of his head, "That's the scoop. If you want to yell and scream or throw stuff at me, now's the time."

"I have questions." Neku bit back the anger, forcing himself to think of the logical side of the matter.

"Ask away."

"How was he? How did he look?"

"Well, he actually didn't look too bad for someone who has been missing for days. J's not the sort to, uh, go straight rustic and hole himself up in a cardboard box under the overpass. Where he's been staying, I have no idea. Unless he called in favors with people or is staying at a seedy motel. He seemed tired, but you said he was like that before he went off."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Wish I did, Phones. Knowing him, he's probably pacing around the city."

"Have you called the police yet?" Neku asked, hoping to get a moderately clear answer.

"I have. I'm going to have hell to pay for ratting the brat out, but I'd rather have him pissed at me than missing or worse, y'know what I mean?"

"…how were the cops? Not too meat-headed I hope?"

"Eh, you know how it is." He shrugged, "they already aren't a fan because of a certain artistic pastime of mine, they'll take any excuse they can get to get after me for tagging stuff. But like I said before, I always get dragged into J's problems, so it's nothing new, boss."

Neku's brows furrowed in thought. "I'm gonna go scan the city myself for him. This waiting is just getting to me bad."

Mr. H. pointed a finger at him, not threateningly, only to make his position clear. "Since I know I can't stop you from doing it, check in with your folks first. We clear? And don't screw yourself over by getting so tired you can't focus. I'm worried about J too, but don't be a fool about it."

"Gotcha, Mr.H."

"Then, go on, git!" He said playfully, regaining the casual, relaxed vibe. "Let me know if you get any news, and I'll do the same."

Nodding in agreement, Neku left the WildKat in much higher spirits than he thought, having a solidified idea of what he was going to do was a reassuring notion. When he left, the barista looked upwards for support, before saying aloud to no one in particular.

"This week feels like the longest on record, man."

The problem with trying to find a person in the city, instead of a rural area or forest, is that there are so many unexpected variables that will interfere. Traffic, holidays, even seasonal sales can play a part. The bustle of hundreds of people is often times a greater issue that simply locating a person off in the boonies, hiding behind a shrub. This is why despite having a goal and feeling boosted for a moment, Neku immediately fell back to the basis of reality; which is that trying to locate one person in a large city when they do not wish to be found is very, very hard. Especially when the local law enforcement does not wish want anyone else involved, besides the passive posting of fliers, articles, and the usage of social media. But those means are glorified waiting.

Practical knowledge is a tremendous help, now Neku knew that Joshua's phone was deactivated, messaging was a waste of effort. Though he did hope that his boyfriend had at least looked at his messages or listened to the voicemail where he apologized. In hindsight, it was a stupid thing to get mad about and he regretted getting worked up over it. When there isn't anyone else to swap ideas with, to confirm or deny the thoughts being juggled like pieces of glass, there's a tendency to blame to closest person. The closest person, of course, being yourself.

That feeling of intensified panic had clawed itself into a comfortable position, content with warping his perspective it stayed relatively silent, for the damage was already done.

'Should have', 'would have', 'could have', and 'didn't' aligned to the front of his thoughts and whenever a question posed itself to be considered, the answer was always one of the four. 'Should have done this-' or 'didn't do this-' even though weighing the issue did no good. The brain has a tendency to get into hamster-wheels of thoughts, where they continue even if unneeded. It was in this similarity, that Neku understood Joshua's habit of pacing aimlessly to work out problems. Walk to distract the body from the brain.

He thought of all the places they had visited, the shops and stores, the restaurants. None of them fit the category of where Josh might return to. He turned up the volume on his iPad, blaring the song to the point where he probably was damaging his ears.

People passed by him, not bothering to question why a teenager isolating himself in music scanned the crowds looking for someone. All these people and none of them the one he wanted to see most. It was a disheartening feeling. The evening started to close in.


If one is running away, the general assumption is that 'away' is leaving. That the person in question has gone from point A and is aiming for point B. It's not as common for one to go from point A to further in point A. Which is why Joshua found he was having a successful time in evading the people hounding him. Credit where it is due, the police had come within spitting distance to finding him, but luck was with him it seemed. Luck, being the fickle lady that she is, chose to help him on this venture. No one really asked who he was, or bothered him. Exactly as he had hoped. He was wandering the city, alone.

The city… truly a swirl of cesspool and marvels. He could fall in love with the uniqueness for a second before feeling a wave of disappointed nausea the next. Glimmers here and there of wonder, which were swallowed by the dredges of the populace. A rollercoaster of elation and disgust. Such a feeling is exhausting.

What he felt he truly needed was time, and being a college student, others would have said he possessed all the time in the world. That he was at the peak of his life, that it was the best it was ever going to be. The thought wasn't comforting. Instead, it frightened him. It was only going to go downhill? How could that be, when they already felt as if they were lying at the bottom of a ravine. And these people, ugh. Why should he have to put up with this, it's not as if he enjoyed it. It didn't seem like they enjoyed it either so what was the point to this stale stupidity? He thought that he could get away from it. Maybe if he had time to seek his own company and wisdom a solution would appear in sparkling colors for him to apply. Of course, it didn't and he was left as unsatisfied as before. Also increasingly tired because, my god, walking is an automatic motion sometimes but it still wears on your muscles after a while.

The options were either return to stagnation or keep walking.

He kept walking.

On a whim, and perhaps to confuse anyone who might be tracking him, he abruptly changed directions. Distracted between trying to keep an eye out for those after him and keeping pace, heading for an alleyway that Neku used to visit on occasion. Neku used to get inspired, or encouraged from some patch of spray paint. Though not a fan of 'modern art' he hoped in a last ditch effort that it would help him come up with a solution.

Udagawa, or rather its back streets. Whatever aesthetic value Neku adored in the street art, Joshua certainly did not find. Murals of work done by Sanae, in vivid contrasting shapes and designs. Graffiti. Nothing more. He didn't know why this idea popped into his head, or why he thought it would gift him a sudden bust of enlightenment. Tendons in his knee gave a protesting twinge from all the walking he had been making them do, to prevent them from rebelling fully he sat with his back against the wall and tried to make the best of it.

This area would always remind him of Neku. That could be the reason he found himself drawn to the place. He did miss annoying the red head, and missed being around him in general. It's not that he tried to be endearing or cute, Neku was just to him, in the strangest way. His boyfriend was by no means an optimist, but he was a realist. Not necessarily happy but practical. A far stretch from the idealist that was Joshua. Ideals are similar to clouds, from far away they look perfect or grandiose but when in reaching distance they are only mist. Mist cannot support anything. This is how he came tumbling to the ground.

Joshua wished he had the opportunity to say something to Neku about this. The start of a small, wry smirk appeared as he thought of how insistent he had been about wanting to know what was wrong. He would have loved to tell him, it's just funny how saying 'I'm bored, everything is repetitive and pointless, nothing has any value' doesn't slide into casual conversation easily. Even if he had, it would have concerned Neku, which would have led to further prying, pointless questions and explanations, and he absolutely didn't have the patience or energy for that. Imagining how the conversation would have gone resulted in an unsatisfactory result.

He was told by peers, teachers, and parents that he should plan for the future. Now, though, he was beginning to despise the concept of 'tomorrow'. Go to classes. Why? So you can graduate. Why? So you can get a job. Why? So you can retire and die. Or worse yet, have or adopt kids and make them go through the endless cycle until the same occurs. It's such an animalistic approach to existence and humans want to put themselves on a pedestal above other creatures when they're doing the exact routine.

It's infuriating. All these people, in a loop of repeats and they can't –or won't see it. That's why it was it was bigger than him, because everyone is tangled in the lines, carrying on like they aren't there until they collapse. How do they do it? How can they so contentedly be nothing but semi-sentient cogs?

Glancing upwards, he caught sight of the moon. The stars and other celestial objects were drowned in the backwash of city lights, but the moon stood firm and resolute. Hovering above the planet, it appeared, beaming down on the lonely blue sphere. He had been gone nearly a week now. It must be later than he thought. Hadn't it been dusk? His sense of time blurred together into a giant globular mess of hours and seconds.

Time. That's how all this started. He wanted time to figure out the 'why' to his actions. Not one of those three day weekends that are assigned to the student masses so they can get as intoxicated as humanly possible. No, an actual break where it's not labeled in the college calendar, where thinking is encouraged instead of pressured. Better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission, Joshua mused.

The grey canvas backpack leaned on the side of his leg, from where he set it down. He observed it for a moment before reaching in and rummaging about for a couple of quarters. He wanted to make a call.


Since the sky darkened, Neku presumed that he had lost his chance for the day of trying to scope out if Joshua was meandering nearby. Defeated, the teen started the trek back to his dorms, shuffling through songs until he found one he liked. He would try again first thing tomorrow, when he wouldn't get bitched out by police for staying out too late or looking 'suspicious'. Neku felt a hair better to know that Mr. H. had seen him recently, and that he wasn't sick or hurt. There was the ever present itch in his nerves to be around him, even to know where that asshole was would have helped it. When (he assured himself, not if, when) he found Joshua he would crawl inside that fucker's ribcage if he had to, to make one hundred percent sure that this never happened again. That even if Joshua spat fire and venom, lashing out at everyone, that he would at least be home and safe. This bolstering idea was an effective method of lying to himself enough so he didn't feel like having a nervous breakdown in the streets.

The phone in his pocket buzzed. He had gotten skilled at answering it in record time.

"Hello?" Neku asked.

Upon not hearing a voice respond he tried again, "Hello? Who is this?"

No reply. "Hey, listen, you called me. Who is this?"

His pulse increased with a sudden idea, "Jos-"

Click. They had hung up.

He immediately called back but was met with a 'Your call cannot be completed at this time. Please hang up and try again later.'


Joshua's hands felt cold when he put the phone back on the receiver. He sighed, saying to himself, "…why did you call him? Stupid." Also, why did he feel so damn shaky? It was only his boyfriend, whom he has talked to before many, many times.

…who he practically abandoned.

…who was probably worried into a frenzy.

…who was possibly failing all of his classes now and-

It wasn't supposed to be this big of a deal! He reasoned with himself, I needed to figure out what I'm doing or find a way around it. I didn't mean for it to turn into this. It has just caused problems. It ruined more possibilities but he couldn't stand the endless routine; day in, day out, no one ever questioning it. He could turn himself in now but that meant going back to empty repetition and he didn't think he could live like that. Neku was probably furious with him for not saying where he was going. Plus, his family would no longer trust him and from here on it would be a mark on his record and –

Enough. He had had enough.


Neku unconsciously picked up the speed, each stride taking him farther than the last. Heading to Cat Street, maybe Mr. H he would recognize where the number was calling from. He tried calling the artist but it went to voicemail. Not one to claim that he was intuitive, Neku nevertheless felt that the person who had called him was Joshua. It had to be, who else would be calling this late? He recognized the Kiryu's home phone, his own parent's number, and his friends. Even the police (who he would rather not speak with again) registered in his phone regularly. It was fully dark by now and he prayed to whatever might be listening that he hadn't closed shop and gone home. He had stopped by Shiba Q Heads for a brief moment, scanning to see if there were any signs of him.

There were none. The previous days of worry and fear were creeping again, dismantling the shoddy determination he had built. In response to the swarming chatter of panic Neku sunk his teeth into his lower lip, not quite drawing blood.


Tucking a rogue strand of hair behind his ear, Joshua reached into his backpack, poking around the bottom for more change when his hand came into contact with something solid. It, too, was metal. However, it did not clink or shift.

Is it still a crossroad when both streets are dead ends?

It all felt laid out and clear, a systematic series of steps to follow. His thoughts voided.


In countless books and novels, the sensation of savage want and desire for the loved one absent is compared to an addict needing their fix. But Neku disagreed, he found it closer to the lines of waking up one morning to discover his arm was missing. Not broken, not severed, missing. Something that had so been a part of him, which he relied on without thinking, a constant in his life, now… gone. An addict without their intoxicant of choice can be a brutal force, wrathful and primal. Further still, if they do not get said drug they can be in serious medical danger. He didn't feel like that. Those who are amputees are not put out of commission, they are not faulty or in a situation of mind over matter. They must adjust to doing the little things differently, to the things that they can and those they cannot. Instead of withdrawal he was discombobulated, unsure how of to go through motions once regular in the knowledge that Joshua was there.

As he was about to head on, he thought he heard something. It wasn't very far away. It sounded like a sharp crack. He knew what the sound was, although they aren't extremely common, it is the closer to the rugged side of the town, meaning that the possibility hadn't flown out the window. Neku felt his destination change before he knew it, he gravitated towards the sound.

The streets were cloaked in grey and muted yellow from the lights. Parts of the environment were familiar, this was right around the block from the mural, right? Why would-?

His thoughts morphed into an indistinguishable blur of objections and pleads. Almost feeling like he was being chased he broke into an all-out run. Faster. Faster. He didn't think he could run any fast if death himself pursued him.

No-please-no-please-God-no-no-no-

Neku rounded the corner. Adrenaline screaming at him to hurry.

He stopped as if hurtling into a brick wall.

o h.


~~..~~..~~..~~..~~\

Author's Note: Boy howdy, this one gave me some trouble. I had to re-write the whole chapter three times with three different ideas. The first was a little too similar to Ready, Aim so I quit. The second, involved Neku trying to take the gun and getting shot instead. The third was just god-awful and way too graphic/gory. I could nitpick and fiddle with the formatting and writing for years and still not be happy with it, so I went with what I have.

I'll ask, and if you'd rather not say -it's all good- but should I keep up with the Joshneku writing trend? I was thinking about not continuing because my lord it is really 90% of what my drabbles (which turn into stories) end up being. Their progression has gone from unrequited in Ready, Aim to acknowledged but new in Waves and then lastly comfortable in this one.

+Thanks for pointing out the typos+

Anyway, that's enough of me. Thank you all so much for your time and input, it really does mean a lot to me.

-Moose.