"He's stopped fighting."
Those three words hung in the air, mocking the already breaking hearts in the room. Joshua's pale form lay on the couch, not even a smirk on his dry, gaping lips as air barely passed through them. His hands twitched once in a while, but other than that, his body seemed to melt into the couch, or tremble as a rattling cough shook it to the core.
"I don't believe that for a damn minute." Neku said, folding his arms "His fever spiked, it wiped him out, that's all. His body is tired out from his injuries. He's not giving up, he's exhausted. He just needs rest."
"Right, Phones." Hanekoma said a bit sarcasticly, folding his arms "Those lines on his legs are what...scorch marks? Or did you tattoo them as a sick joke?"
Neku frowned and looked once more at the creeping erasure lines that had appeared on the Composer's legs like tiger stripes shortly after he'd collapsed from exhaustion a day ago...and hadn't gotten up or opened his eyes since. The lines seemed to grow in number slowly, but they hadn't actually spread.
"They aren't getting bigger, so he's still fighting, Mister H. He has to be!"
Hanekoma shook his head, hanging it with a burning sensation in his eyes. He clenched his fists and knelt next to his son, the tears stuck n his throat as he choked out with narrowed eyes "Look, I don't want it to be true any more than you, but that's the way it is, Phones."
"NO!" Neku slammed his fist into the wall, "He's not giving up! He's the damned Composer, he'll beat this and continue running Shibuya and occasionally pissing me off! See? He's doing it right now, and he isn't even conscious! Josh, stop pissing me off! Open your eyes...smirk a little! DO something to show it's not over!"
The body on the couch didn't respond. The pale form seemed to sink further into the cushions, the labored breaths became rattling as the charred throat got scraped by air intake until the cough reflex activated. Mister H. turned him over so he could dislodge more charcoal from his throat, with a fair amount of blood as well, before letting him sink back into the couch, where the rattling continued.
"No..." The proxy croaked, emotion over riding his demeaner "Josh...please..." He suddenly brightened "I know...I'll let in Shibuya!"
"Shibuya's been singing her desperate song over him for hours, Phones. He hasn't responded" Sanae deadpanned, gesturing to the widely-opened window.
"I'll open the damn door too then! I'll—"
"Phones." Hanekoma said sternly, defeat in his tone but understanding in his eyes, "It's no use."
He stood, gesturing for the redhead to take his place. "Take your time." He said softly. "He's listening."
Neku growled as he passed the Barista "Don't you dare act like it's over. Because it's not."
The proxy took a seat on the floor, grasping a pale, cold hand in his own. A burning sensation creeped under his eyelids, but he refused to let the dam break. His throat closed up, but he forced it back open as he brought the hand close to his chest.
"It's not over...is it, Josh? This is...another lie. Another trick. Any moment now, you'll give that goddamn laugh and spring up, telling me that this was some elaborate Composer scheme...right?"
The Composer remained dead to the world. His hand was cold and limp, breathing was shallow, as if he weren't even trying to draw breath. The hot wetness behind Neku's blues finally erupted, releasing their moisture all over his face.
"You can't just...asshole...you can't just let yourself be erased!"
Why not?
Neku froze. Joshua's voice had reached his ears, but the body that was wasting away on the couch hadn't moved.
You'll be just fine without me, my dear, dear Partner. Better in fact.
Their bond. Joshua was talking through their partner bond! Reaching through the void, grasping the lavender whisp that floated near his own indigo and orange one, he stroked it.
"Idiot. I won't be fine! You're my friend, bastard Kiryu. I couldn't shoot you, what makes you think I'd stand by and just let you fade from existence? Now fight, you ass!"
Fight or not, my fate is sealed.
"Fate is bullshit. Make your own. Live...please, just suck it up...and live!"
The voice of his friend went silent. His wisp became still, and fell into the void. Neku grabbed for it with his hand, but it turned into air and blew through his grip. Desperate, he whipped his own part of the pact after it, but a glowing current caught the lavender and dragged it further into the void.
The body on the couch went an even lighter shade of pale, the rasping throat emitted a hiss, like air being let out of a balloon. The static on the dark pants finally started to spread, inching upwards at a moderate rate.
The raw panic Neku felt as he watched all the signs was as a gaping maw, leading him into a closed-off memory that he had buried deep within his mind. A memory of a terrible accident long ago, and his inability to stop it from unfolding before his very eyes. A loss he vividly remembered, a friend now long gone.
He hung his head, burying his face within his collar and letting the hand he held fall limply to the side of the slowly rising and falling chest. A single tear escaped, chasing the overflow that had transpired moments before.
"You can't leave me, too."