Hello and drabbles
I’d wanted to write something epic to begin my days here in the community, but alas, my mind turns any one-shot that is worked on for more than an hour into an 8-20 novella, and I just don’t have the patience to write out the chapters before I post something. So here are a few quite short drabbles by way of saying hi. God, I hope I got the breaker thing write as well...
Of contrasting titles and ratings; PG-13 at most. All Josh/Neku.
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Pretence
The Composer was starting to get tired from the amount of times Sakuraba had asked, “why me”. It wasn’t that he didn’t answer; in fact, he’d answered every time, pointing out the simplistic reasons such as the convenience of Neku being alone at the time, that his Imagination had been glaringly obvious, that he had obviously been a recluse and more likely to appreciate helping to off part of the world. They were all quite valid, or at least, realistic ideas, but whenever Joshua took the time to answer his proxy would glance over at him with a little smile that quite blatantly read ‘I don’t believe you’ before leaving the subject for another day.
And still, there was a small, growing fear behind Joshua’s answers, one that was stretching out in every moment, because he knew he was getting sick of lying, and one day out of pure frustration he may just shout out that Neku had caught his eye years before, that he had always wanted to know him, and worst of all, Neku would see that for what it was. The absolute truth.
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Running Away
It happened every time they were around each other now. Neku would actually be relaxed, enjoying the others company and whatever they were doing when Joshua would stop all thought by leaning over and giving him a chaste kiss. It would be the end of their time together as well, at least for that day, because before Neku even had time to think he was bolting as far away from Shibuya’s composer as he could go. They never mentioned it, though Shiki usually noticed with some sense of concern, the palpable tension Neku held against the ashen haired teen the next time the group hung out together.
But the more common an occasion it became the quicker Neku was able to put it behind him, the next day when they would see each other a little bit easier to bear. He didn’t understand why Joshua did it; he never smirked before or after the action, never said anything, but Neku wasn’t sure he really wanted him to say anything, either. Because, in the end, the utter lack of sarcastic remarks and smug little smiles made it that much easier to stop running away, and just kiss back.
“About time.” Was all Joshua had to say on the matter, a small, very genuine lilt to the corners of his mouth.
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My Inspiration
Joshua had to orchestrate the lives of a total of 200,000 people, without the additional four million or so tourists sweeping through his fashionable little district, on a daily basis. Every hum from his mouth, every delighted quirk, every sardonic quip, were all a well thought out component in the song that was the life of the very people and the buildings around them. In all honesty, Joshua’s fine tuning was merely the start of the orchestrated soundtrack; it went on and on, twisting and twining to the point that it no longer resembled its origins at all, and the only control he really had was having heard it so much as to know what to put out to give him his desired effect.
But really, it was much more enjoyable to just let Shibuya go where it may, and put his talents to use on other, smaller projects. And oh, how he delighted in the fact that with the tiniest thrum of music from his hand, he could have Neku writhing in pleasure against the nearest solid object in three seconds flat.
It was the little things in life, really.