Neku flopped on his bed with a sigh. He didn't know why he was procrastinating so much on his major decision. He was just prolonging Joshua's suffering by fighting Apollo for more time. All the Higher Being was going to do was tear down all the progress they made during the reprieve anyway. At the same time, Mr. H had convinced him that the Council would indeed find Apollo in contempt and call him back up to face his own judgement. If Neku waited, he could make sure Joshua reclaimed his throne and Neku himself wouldn't have to become Composer, unlike if his death pact with Mister H actually got fulfilled.
The Barista himself was reluctant to allow Joshua's suffering to continue. He'd told Neku as much as the Proxy fed a lethargic Composer his breakfast on the morning of the second day. However, he also thought it would be more satisfying if Joshua wasn't erased when Apollo was inevitably called back up to face Seraph's wrath. The Composer, even now, was somewhat coherant, and would take great pleasure in knowing that he was properly avenged.
So the gun stayed in Neku's pocket unused.
That didn't mean the teen didn't have nightmares concerning the entire situation though. His promise still board a hole in his subconscious, and sleep was the realm of subconscious thought. Unfortunately, his thoughts...were incredibly vivid...
He found himself drowning in a sea of tears, unable to hold fast to the skinny arm he clutched so desperately. The waves dragged him under and filled his lungs with fire, and gunpowder, and as he finally got his bearings he screamed because what else could he do when his burden stared up at him with a bleeding skull and dying eyes, an accusitory gleam in the dying orbs that shouted at him 'This was all your doing!'
Next thing he knew, he was flung onto the shore, to writhe in unimaginable pain as his shoulderblades grew long and sharp, piercing and tearing his skin no matter how long he rolled to get relief, until they sprouted...white, gorgeous wings. He had no time to enjoy them as his entire body was suddenly engulfed in white-hot flame that consumed him until he was one with it. He opened his mouth but that let more inside him...burning...sizzling...scorching...he was screaming...
"Phones! PHONES!"
It all began to fade away. The smell of coffeebeans and shoyu chased the taste of ash from his throat and lungs. Wakefulness finally took hold as his eyes flew open and he found himself in the place he called home, with Joshua dozing seemingly unfazed and unbothered on the neighboring couch. He himself was covered in sweat, his spikes limp and tear streaks lining his face. He didn't care, as he gasped for air he thought he needed desperately.
"You had one doozie this time, Phones." Hanekoma said gently, setting both coffee and Ramen on the foot table.
"I think I just decided that I don't want to become Composer." Neku grunted as he took a sip of the coffee, "I'm also more convinced that this was all my fault." He gestured to the sleeping ashblond, "He just told me. Pretty damn vividly."
Sanae sighed "Not this again, Phones. You know J doesn't blame you any more than I do. Stop torturing yourself, and get him up will you? It's been a pain trying to get him to eat while you were over there tossing and shouting. He's a bit more aware now, but that means he's a lot more stubborn."
Neku reluctantly dropped the topic and eagerly shook the sleeping ashblond awake. Joshua was indeed a lot more coherant than he had been, and swiftly rewarded his proxy's efforts by simply turning into the back of the couch and getting comfortable again.
"Stubborn ass." Neku muttered as he shook his head and stood up "Well, Mister H, we won't get him awake that way. The only way to get him to pay the slightest bit of attention to us...is if he's properly motivated."
The barista chuckled and threw up his hands "I'll get the shio."