(no subject)
Title: Signal to Noise - Boy with a Coin (17/?)
Author: twigcollins
Rating: PG-13. I love swearing.
Warnings: Spoilers through end of game plus secret reports.
Summary: Hey, what’s the worst that can happen?
Author’s Notes: Cross-posted to subarashiki_ds
Archive of StN links available here: http://delicious.com/Flidget/Signal2Noise
It’s not his room. His sheets don’t have nearly this high of a thread count. Neku makes a face into the pillow, doesn’t bother opening his eyes. All right, of course he’s here- so how did he get here? It takes a minute to trace the day back: School, then Tsuyoshi, then the concert, which was just as incredible as the first time, like a high-speed washing machine of awesome that dumped him back out onto the street, dizzy and slightly damp and Neku even kept checking, every few moments, to make sure he was still in the proper plane. It had seemed like the most spectacular evening, a perfect moment - and he wanted to share that, wanted someone - and hey, he had a boyfriend! Sort of. All the reasons now for thinking twice hadn’t even crossed his mind. That he maybe ought to take this slow. Make Joshua work for at least some of it. Maybe not immediately go from World’s Most Uncomfortable Virgin to the Gigantic Man-Whore of Tokyo?
A soft, damp something touches his shoulder, and Neku is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know what it is even as he lifts his head to try and see, without moving too much.
“Good morning.” Joshua says, calm and implacable as ever, chopsticks expertly laying a second plank of raw salmon next to the first.
“… the hell?”
“Careful. You’ll ruin the presentation.” Neku could and should do a great many things, including wind back the clock and never show up here. Instead he shoves the pillow away and drops his face against his crossed arms, feeling Joshua pile a little bit of what might be ginger in the small of his back.
“You are a freak. You are a freak beyond freaks.”
A soft snort of disdain. All of Joshua’s responses are some form of diluted superiority.
“If I were going for authenticity, I would have made you shave. And take a cold shower. I mean, ideally, you should be a virgin. But I suppose I can’t complain about that.”
Neku rolls his eyes. “How many hours a day do you work at being so damn creepy?”
No answer, just the feel of another piece of sushi being carefully added to his back. This one might be a roll. Neku’s a little sore, in a really wonderful kind of way, remembering what happened after he pounced on Joshua at the front door. It had taken a while to make it off the couch, just to do it all over again when they’d reached the bed. Joshua had as many tactics in the bedroom as he did anywhere else - one of those things Neku was just starting to understand, impossible to notice at the time with the Composer thoroughly and carefully having his way, and Neku had let him - begged for it, yes, there had been some rather undignified pleading and moaning and anything else Joshua had wanted to hear. Still, all of it was not without a different sort of purpose, Joshua not getting off himself until Neku had nothing left to give and could barely see straight. As if even that, allowing Neku the slightest glimpse of vulnerability was more than he could bear.
Well, it wasn’t like he ever thought this would be easy.
“What time is it?”
“What time do you want it to be?” Definitely superiority there. Wouldn’t be so superior if he had a math test coming up - Neku thinks, deliberately loud, and Joshua sighs. “Early, Neku. It’s very early.”
“Is that egg?” He says, and at least one piece of food makes it to his mouth instead - Joshua’s really good with those chopsticks. “Tell me you don’t have any cod roe. This is gross enough.”
“You know, if you didn’t complain so much, I bet you could get paid for this.”
So much for the tender blush of first love. Neku continues to not move, and refuses to comment as a few more pieces of sushi are lined up along his back. He shouldn’t be this awake, if it’s so early, but Neku doesn’t feel tired at all. Maybe this is an unexpected benefit, he’ll need to keep eating like a sumo but he’ll gain a couple extra hours in the day. It’s not like Joshua sleeps. Neku curls his hand back, trying to grab for whatever’s close, just past the edge of his waist, but he’s rapped sharply on the knuckles for his efforts. Neku makes a disgruntled noise, tucks his arms under his chest. It doesn’t, unfortunately, dislodge any of Joshua’s fishy artistic display.
“Hanekoma thinks you’re avoiding him.”
“That would be because I am.” Neku replies, but smiles a little. If Mr. H has talked with Joshua then he already knows everything - and hell, he’s been doing this, playing Producer to Joshua’s Composer for so long, he must understand something about going along with a pale-haired lunatic despite all the better judgment and intelligent arguments in the universe.
“I felt you, at the club. Watching me.” No answer, and since he’s a table now, Neku can’t look back or turn over to see the Composer’s expression. “You should have come out. You might have had fun.”
Instead of answering, Neku feels a piece of sushi lifted off his back, and then another. One more question he’s never asked, because it seemed unlikely he’d get an answer - why did Joshua never show up, never meet them in the Realground? He must have heard, must have known Neku wanted him there - had been teasing him so long that he must have known it would end up like this, or at least guessed.
“I think your body temperature’s affecting the taste. I need to go find an ice pin.”
“You’ll be chipping me out for like, an hour.” Neku chuckles. “I hit Beat once by accident.” In the last week, exhausted, the both of them more than a little panicked. Back when Joshua was dead and the Composer was some all-powerful unknown, full of dread. Neku stretches, tries to look again, but Joshua’s got his head tipped down and his hair is hiding his expression. The all-powerful unknown.
“We’re getting together tomorrow… well, today, actually. Shiki and Eri are making some last-minute adjustments before their big debut. Beat said he’d even bring Rhyme over.”
A piece of tuna, lifted off his right shoulder. Neku sighs.
“Maybe when they’re all done, we’ll go see a movie. Something loud and stupid. You can bitch about it for hours.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The Composer’s voice is soft. If it were any time but now, Neku would think he’s imagining the edge there, nervousness or warning or both.
“A little bit late for that, don’t you think?” Here in Joshua’s bed, shouldn’t that already be his answer? Neku muses for a moment, on the point of no return. In the Throne Room? At the end of that second week? Maybe from the first moment he stumbled to the statue, frantic and confused and desperate for a way to save Shiki. “You know I trust you.”
The last piece of sushi disappears off his back, and Neku rolls onto his side. It’s not fair how good Joshua looks when he’s rumpled, wearing his usual shirt, now wrinkled, unbuttoned, a few dangling threads where buttons should be. “You don’t have to… worry, about being out there, Josh. I can protect you.”
Joshua chuckles, an indulgent little sound, even though he’s the one playing the recluse, and Neku doesn’t think it has to do with whether his powers are censured or not.
“Neku,” A high-and-mighty Composer sigh, as if he’s being purposely obtuse. “You have to admit, there’s not much of a point. It’s not like they’ll remember it.”
“Is that all?” Neku says, catches a flicker of what might be real surprise at his disdainful tone. “Josh, do you think you’re the first forgettable person in history? Half my class might be cardboard cutouts, for all I can tell. People forget who people are dating all the time.”
“So you’re going to tell them.”
Neku can’t help but laugh. “About this? Trust me, they’ll figure it out. And even if they don’t remember you well, maybe they’ll stop thinking I’m dating everyone else in Shibuya. Just… try to act…”
“Yes?” Joshua cocks an extremely unhelpful eyebrow, trailing the tip of a chopstick along the curve inside Neku’s knee. Neku scowls. The Composer pretends to be suddenly concerned with the far wall of his apartment.
“Good behavior. You know, if you were a normal person and not you. Just do whatever the opposite is you think about doing.”
Joshua leans back in haughty mock-offense, but his eyes are flashing, amused.
“So what’s my reward for all this unnecessary good behavior?”
Neku, to his credit, does not blush, even as he drags the blankets up a little further, although he’s half-convinced that Joshua’s just not telling him about the super sekret Composer x-ray powers.
“I mean, if I keep saving up my points-”
Neku rolls his eyes. “You don’t get points for not being a jackass. Jackass.”
Joshua isn’t listening. “I think you were right about the elevator. It seems a bit tame.”
Neku doesn’t ask but then again he doesn’t have to, because Joshua’s Imprinting a thought - no, pulling out a memory, of Shiki and that horrible time when the button was loose on his pants and -
“You’re not serious. Hell no.”
“Why not? One good reason.”
He really ought to be standing up for this, or like, going or not entirely completely, y’know naked and Joshua’s all rumpled but it doesn’t make him look any less imperious and dammit, why not? At least that ought to be some sort of… equity. Something. Joshua is still looking at him.
“I am not having sex with you in Scramble Crossing!” He yanks the sheet out and wraps it around himself in an awkward sort of pile that covers surprisingly little while threatening to trip him every half-second. “I’m taking a shower. I’m sticky and disgusting and it’s all your fault and I don’t need a reason - normal people don’t need a reason for not having sex in the middle of the city!”
“It’s the UG, Neku. No one could see us.” He’s rational and calm and Neku shouldn’t have gotten up because now there’s nothing to throw at him. “We’d hardly be the first.”
That observation makes him pause, thinking back on all those years of his life with no idea the Game existed, all those Reapers who could have been doing god knows what while he was eating a burger or shopping or just walking down the street or - god, Minamimoto’s O-Face. Neku gives an involuntary, full-body shudder, pretty sure that’s the feeling of his brain trying to vomit inside of his skull.
“Oh god, ohhhh I can’t ever unthink that.”
Joshua gets up, following him at a lazy pace - and yep, Neku immediately trips on his incredibly lame makeshift toga, feels his heel slide against the floor and he stumbles back half a step against the wall, and Joshua’s there, one arm up, hand pressed against the wall next to his ear and this, this is going to be a trend, he can tell.
“You still haven’t given me a good reason.”
Neku keeps forgetting to ask Josh what color his eyes should be, what they were before he became the Composer because there’s no way they’re supposed to look like they do now; his gaze electric and piercing, carrying a confidence that borders on cruelty and this is when it gets scary. It’s frightening, when Joshua looks at him this way, with that sort of desire, that kind of disdain for everything Neku thought of as the real world - and he wants this, wants to share in this secret, wants to be the person Joshua wants him to be. Let the Composer have him anywhere, whenever, and he’ll laugh about it, and give everything over to this life he can’t possibly be living.
“We’re having sex in the shower,” Neku murmurs, sliding toward the bathroom door, every inch of his body locked up, suddenly wanting Joshua so badly he can barely move, “not the UG.”
“Well,” Joshua says, shrugging, barely able to get the words out before Neku yanks him inside, “if you insist.”
----------------------
“Are you still obsessing over that coat?” Shiki calls out from inside the club room. “I can fix it, if you want me to. We can try something else.”
Eri doesn’t bother responding. She’s dragged this one out into the hall, dress form and all, just to try and get a new look at it. To convince herself the profile isn’t all wrong with the dress underneath and she’ll need to do something entirely different to make it work right. Maybe it’s just the fabric, puckering ever so slightly where the sleeves meet the body - it’s not Shiki’s fault, but when Eri had it down on paper, it all looked right. She’s the one who’s been pushing this particular jacket ever since the first sketch, and at the moment she’s trying to cultivate some patience for it, to treat it like a fun-loving but troublesome problem child instead of something to be set on fire.
So she pats the fabric, and straightens it, and takes it off the form and flips it inside out and repins it in a dozen different places and flips it back and pats it some more. Or maybe there’s nothing at all wrong with the coat and she’s just finally having a few moments of the pre-show jitters. The fact that been standing here picking invisible lint off of it for the last ten minutes might be a good sign. It’s not even like it’s that big a deal, this stupid show - Eri’s still not sure whether they were invited to join in because someone dropped out or just because it’s cute having a couple of kids who think they can - no. No, she’s not going to let herself think like that. Shiki’s depending on her, and Eri believes in them, and so things always work out.
… maybe if she added a scarf?
“The shoulders look a little boxy, don’t you think?”
The voice isn’t loud, but it seems to be following exactly her train of thought and Eri nearly jumps out of her skin, turning sharply, scowling before she can stop herself. The boy doesn’t seem to mind, leaning slightly against the doorway like he’s trying to be a lot older than he is. Eri lets out a little sigh of irritation, forcing her expression to stay neutral.
“It might make a more delicate profile with a wrap.” If there’s anything Eri can’t stand, it’s people who try to interrupt her in the middle of a problem. It doesn’t do anything except throw her off when she’s searching for a solution - and Eri clenches her jaw for a moment, when she realizes he might actually have a point.
“Are you looking for… someone?” I think the rest of the school is pretty much empty by now…” Eri has managed to sweet-talk a teacher for the larger club space, they can and have stayed until all hours trying to get things ready.
The boy doesn’t answer her, just steps away from the wall and toward her design, to take a closer look at what he’s already judged wanting, and Eri cringes for a moment and then hates herself for caring what he thinks. Whoever he is. Dressed a little dandy, really, but tidy without being fussy. White’s a risky color for how pale he is, but it works. Simple and elegant, and if it’s not quite making a statement it’s far better than the people she’s seen who seem to be following Neku’s trend of walking into a closet and having a mild seizure.
“Have we met?” Eri knows she knows everyone, and the slightest smile appears in the corner of his mouth, as if he’s aware of it too. He’s got a watch on his wrist - and it’s… holy crap, it’s a Pegaso, and Eri has to look at it twice to prove to herself it’s not a fake, before giving the rest of his outfit extra attention. His shoes are Dragon Couture, limited edition from last fall, and /that/ means she has to take a closer look at the shirt and pants too and… all right, yep, he’s dressing down at the cost of her entire summer wardrobe.
“I doubt it.” And she believes him. He glances toward the open door. “Do you mind if I look at the rest of the collection?”
It’s all in the way that he says it. He’s amused at some joke she’s not getting, but it’s not at all about their work. It’s not a lack of respect for what they’re doing - and he’s right about the coat, damn it - and Eri nods, pretending to go back to studying what might end up having to be scrapped, even if Shiki might murder her for all the wasted work. They have a backup piece, an earlier school project just in case this happened, just needing to be hemmed a little.
Eri hears it when Shiki realizes they’ve got company, the high-pitched sound of her surprise, and she smiles to herself, imagining Shiki caught off guard and blushing, the extra few seconds it takes her to change gears from intently working to dealing with surprise guests. It’s difficult not to go into the room, just hover at the door and make sure he doesn’t say anything or do anything, no matter what he drops on his accessories. Eri is overprotective of her friends, always has been, and Shiki is way more than just a friend, or a girlfriend, or even her co-creator. What they have together is way more than the sum of its parts. The way to respect that is to trust Shiki to take care of herself - she’s strong, but Eri has to give her the chance to be strong. Even when she’d rather be there, just to make sure.
“Hey.”
Eri jumps out of her skin for the second time in fifteen minutes, and on top of her already frazzled nerves it’s a good thing that Shiki hid the shears an hour ago. Neku shies away regardless, holding up his hands in mock surrender, and she instantly does a swift and vicious head-to-toe of his wardrobe. Nothing is immediately offensive, so she settles for an all-purpose glare and a growl that makes him cringe again.
“The salesguy said this shirt goes with these pants!” He blurts out, and finally smiles when she laughs. Neku really doesn’t look half-bad. Obviously he’s had help, and she’s starting to guess from where. “So, how’s it going?”
Eri sighs, takes a deep breath, not even sure at this point if her nervousness actually matches up to reality or if it’s just random anxiety. Everyone thinks she’s bulletproof, but Eri is as worried and self-conscious as anyone else, she just ignores it as much as she can.
“I know Shiki’s been waiting for you - and don’t worry, I think she actually has boy clothes this time. I’m…” Eri rolls her eyes, accepting defeat as gracefully as she can, pulling the jacket free and resisting the urge to wad it up in both hands. “Damn it, it really might look better with a wrap.”
Neku glances toward the door, eyes narrowing slightly, listening in on the bare murmur of conversation, the stranger’s comments and Shiki’s replies.
“There’s some boy with a Pegaso watch in there, if you’ll believe that - so…” Eri trails off, because Neku’s already walking to the door, and she sees it when he must see whoever it is inside. He just lights up, a smile Eri’s seen him give to Shiki every now and again, but even then it’s reserved for special occasions.
So, this is the boyfriend.
Eri likes Neku. He sees Shiki for who she really is, the person she wants to be - the person Shiki believes she is, a lot of the time now. She’s changed, more confident in herself. Happier, when Eri didn’t know what else to try or how to change things to make it better. At first, it was a surprise, some new boy out of nowhere, and a little part of her couldn’t help but worry - but if she was jealous it didn’t last long, not with Shiki so happy and their work suddenly in a new place, better than what they’d done before. So she has Neku to thank for that, and he’s a pretty cool guy, and he makes Shiki smile, and… well, he has no fashion sense, inexplicably, a total blind spot - especially with boyfriend showing up and bringing all his designer tags along.
Shiki’s going to be a little disappointed about the 777 thing. Eri would have liked some free backstage passes herself.
She drags the dress form with her, to the door. Shiki is hemming the bottom of a skirt, Neku handing her the pins - the other boy is leaning back against a desk, apparently in some sort of grudge match with gravity, not quite slouching, not quite /posing/, but…
Neku says something low that makes the other boy chuckle slightly, responding with a short comment that has Shiki yelping and turning red, though her hands are steady and never miss a stitch.
Eri’s good at people, maybe that’s why everyone thinks she’s so confident and secure, that she just has a slight knack for reading body language or little expressions and it’s just as clear to her that Neku’s crushing hard as it is that the other boy isn’t giving her anything he doesn’t want to, a calm, collected manner that borders right up on indifference. Maybe that’s the reason she’s on edge. Neku doesn’t need indifference, doesn’t need to get hurt by some stupid rich boy - and this is the point where Shiki would tell her not to worry so much, not to get so involved, but Shiki’s busy working and the boy is watching her, gaze steady. As if he knows everything she’s thinking, and he smiles.
“I don’t think we were properly introduced.”
Neku sighs. “You could have told them your name, at least.” He turns to Shiki and Eri. “Just ignore anything he says. We think it’s a chemical imbalance.”
“What is?”
“Pretty much the whole… him… thing.” A slight, wry look between them - it’s definitely serious, this. At least Neku isn’t acting very different around Boyfriend McFancy Pants, isn’t being too nice. With what she’d heard about his last friendship crashing and burning, it wasn’t impossible to think he might be a little deferential, just in case. Eri hates it when people are less than they should be, just to keep someone else around. Wouldn’t want - no, probably wouldn’t let it happen to Neku.
“Eri, Shiki - this is Josh. Joshua.”
“It’s a nickname.” He says, all ease and charm but still laughing at her, behind his eyes. Or she’s overreacting. Or maybe this is how he is with everyone, and she needs to stop taking it personally. “Nice to meet you, again. I must say, you did an excellent job with that suit. Neku hardly looked like himself.”
“Wait, so that was /you/ with the suit and…?” Shiki says, and now she’s turned away from her work and is in the process of catching up, staring between Neku and Joshua with a slight blush just starting to rise on her cheeks. “Um…”
“You were right, dear,” Joshua says, his innocent expression carrying a pronounced smirk, “We didn’t have to say anything at all.”
Neku grumbles into his hand as Shiki stammers, and Eri can feel the tension in the room pop, just like a soap bubble, the first and most awkward minutes of this meeting passing, already fading into a more easy feeling, although when Joshua’s eyes meet hers, she holds his gaze for a long moment before looking away. Just so he knows she’s watching.
-----------------------
Okay, since no one’s asking, Neku can admit that he was just slightly worried about how it would all work out, whether Joshua would have any fun at all or fit in with their groove - but he’s forgetting that this is the Composer, who knows a thing or two about grooves, and that the rest of the world gets polite, normal Joshua, while bitchy and irritating Joshua is all his own. Lucky.
Eri’s thrown in a movie, the retrospective of some fashion designer, images of Italy and Paris flashing by, old fashions from the sixties and seventies interspersed with more modern designs. Neither Eri and Shiki are paying much attention, probably have seen it a dozen times by now, though they both look up when a naked model walks into the room, and the designer sweeps a mass of sheer, red fabric around her, a team of seamstresses descending on her like bees on a flower, and Shiki’s eyes are gleaming, that’s her dream right there.
Neku doesn’t watch the movie near as much as he watches her, Shiki stitching the edge of a blouse, alternating between a row of silk ribbon flowers in pale white, and a row of the tiniest crystal beads he’s ever seen, glancing at the book propped up by one knee every time she switches back to the flowers. It’s amazing to watch, the tiny stitches in near-invisible thread - and she glances up, sees him watching her and smiles shyly. She doesn’t remember anything, not about the Game, not that Neku thought she would even with Joshua around, but it’s still a relief.
“You’re going to go blind,” he teases, watching her expertly tip another bead onto the hair-thin needle.
“I got lucky. I almost couldn’t find enough of the right beads.”
“There are wrong beads?”
The question earns him a quick crash course in the perils of using inferior seed beads, between bits of the movie where the same team of seamstresses are now attaching thousands of tiny sequins to the fringe of a dress, and Shiki glances from the screen to him.
“I’m not that good yet. I don’t even know where I can learn some of that, these days.”
“I think you’re amazing.” She blushes, and smacks him lightly with the edge of the now-sparkling fabric. Joshua’s voice comes from the other corner of the room, where he’s talking with Eri. It seems like they’ve hit it off, for whatever reason, and Neku’s pretty confident Eri can handle herself.
“… maybe something that doesn’t show off his knees like he’s five.”
“My clothes are fine, guys!” He yells back, and it is decidedly unnerving to have three pairs of eyes suddenly looking at him with indulgent pity. Neku sulks, pulling out his sketchbook just as the door opens, and Rhyme steps in.
“Finally, you’re here!” Eri says, moving toward the carefully hanging rows of mostly finished clothes. “Where’s your brother?”
“Bringing the food up.” Eri is shuffling through the hangers, and Shiki is pointing out something in the movie and Neku turns, and so he doesn’t see the moment that Rhyme sees Joshua, and the way she stops, eyes wide for a moment in nothing less than sheer terror. His eyes widen slightly, surprised, and then he smiles, so by the time Neku looks back, it just looks like Rhyme is vaguely shy of strangers, and given the stranger it’s not like he can blame her.
“Rhyme, this is my friend Joshua.” You remember Rhyme, right? Eaten by a shark and turned into a squirrel?
Safely returned to the land of the living by a Composer’s endless grace and virtue? I remember. The thought comes back to him, with Joshua’s dry wit dripping off every word.
“Very nice to meet you.” He says, and Rhyme nods, and finally smiles weakly. By that point Beat is coming through the door, boxes piled high in his hands, and no one notices if she still looks a little pale, or the way she keeps a bit of space between herself and Joshua, doesn’t let him get too close.
--------------------
“You should have just boxed up the whole kitchen.” Neku says, as Beat gingerly transfers the containers to a table. It smells very good, and Beat grins, proud and tired.
“I told him I was meetin’ with my friends, so he had me take a whole bunch of stuff. A few… uh, attempts. Some of the tempura fell apart. Think it’s still good, though.”
Beat seems… different. A little more relaxed, although that could be because he’s just exhausted, and Neku has to take a step to the side when he moves suddenly, smelling overwhelmingly like sweat and dashi stock. Beat just laughs.
“Yah, I know. Hell of a night. Back room was roasting, an’ the boss had this big guy in there, some part-time… I dunno. I guess I’m spost’a help him teach a class or whatever. Guy was huge, kept talkin’ about food like, the entire time. Didn’t matter if I said a thing.”
No, no his life will not converge like this without his permission. “… Higashizawa?”
Beat nods. “Yeah. Maybe, yeah. You know him?”
“Not really.” And even that is more than he wants to.
“We had to do this eel thing, that’s in the bottom box there, the leftovers - ‘cept it was still, yanno - alive?” Beat makes the same sort of face as when people call him by his full first name, and then laughs. “Yah. Mr. Iron Chef Higashi-whatever, he didn’t like that too much.”
It’s a very satisfying image, the jerk who put them through the first week of Game hell freaking out over an eel. Beat passes out the boxes, deliberately setting two aside for Neku, and glances over at Joshua, speaking in what he probably thinks is a quiet voice. “So what’s with the prissy kid? Eri’s friend?”
“No… he’s, uh. He’s mine. My friend, I mean. Joshua.” And even though Shiki and Eri both giggle, Neku is safely confident in the knowledge that any and all innuendo will all go well over Beat’s head. Beat nods, though his eyes narrow for a moment, Joshua looking back, mild and complacent because, save for Eri, he’s already held all of their lives in his hand.
“You look familiar.” Beat says, jerking Neku out of one disturbing thought right into another. “I ever roll over you on my board?”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Joshua says, and Beat shrugs and starts passing out boxes. Neku sees Shiki creep up on Rhyme, setting something on her shoulder. It’s a little amigurumi doll, in the shape of the sketch he did of Rhyme’s Noise form. He didn’t even know Shiki could crochet, though it’s not surprising and this… the sight of it now perched on her is the sort of weirdness he should really be accustomed to by now. Rhyme giggles, and Neku is nudged, a box put in his hands. He wonders if Josh will need two as well, but when he opens it up there’s enough food there - fried pork, vegetables, rice, some fish dumplings - that he wonders if even he’ll need the second box.
“The boss says there’s a guy that can teach me noodles. Like, super noodles. He says he thinks I’m serious enough, to try for a, I dunno, apprenticeship.” Beat says.
“You don’t sound very happy about that,” Eri replies, naturally interested in perfection and just assuming that everyone feels the same.
“I dunno,” Beat shrugs, “I jus’ wanna make food for people, yanno? So they’re not hungry.”
“Is that why my sushi rolls look like little panda bears?” Joshua says mildy.
In the silence that follows, Beat quietly switches Joshua’s box with his sister’s, and everyone pretends that he’s not beet red.
---------------------------
“Neku, if you move your arm again I’m sewing you into this.”
“You look perfect, Rhyme. Try it on with the hat!”
“Why does she get to look more manly than I do?” Neku sighs, the high-waisted gown crinkling a little as he turns to watch Rhyme dart behind him. She’s wearing a young boy’s outfit, and it does look adorable even before she puts the hat on, looking over her shoulder in the mirror, posing with one heel up. A few feet away, Beat is sacked out under a table, one hand on the cookbook flattened out across his chest. Rhyme had been so proud, when she said how hard he’d been working.
“Eyes front, princess! Eyes front!” Eri barks, and Neku does as he’s told, looking to where Joshua is watching all this as if it’s been set up just for him. All right, so when Neku asked him to come along he really didn’t think it would involve the Composer watching him get buttoned into a glittery blue ballgown, complete with matching satin gloves that, for some reason, he had to wear.
It’s not a part of the show - those outfits are all hanging against the far wall, and now Shiki and Neku are doing some mending and fitting on costumes for the school play, since they’re both insane to take on double projects, and have convenient models that they say are about the right dimensions. Neku feels a little sorry for the girl who has his chest, or he would if he thought this was anything but an excuse for them to put him in a dress and giggle about it. Still, Shiki and Eri both look a little more relaxed, and it has been nothing but fun just hanging out with his friends, goofing off probably the best part of a normal life.
“No tiara.” He growls, and Eri sticks her tongue out at him, before holding it out to Joshua. “Can you convince him for me?”
“You have to admit, Neku - you look rather regal in blue.”
Okay, so maybe introducing Eri to Joshua is not one of his all-time smart moves, especially after she’d got him the closest Neku’s ever seen to an actual Composer spit-take, some side remark about trying to figure out the particulars of Neku’s love life, and the pre-Joshua, post-777 speculation that his sugar daddy was that guy who ran that weird coffee shop nearby.
Neku’s pretty sure the “mention it to Mr. H and I’ll kill you” Imprint got through loud and clear, the question not so much if Joshua heard him as if he cared. The answer is probably not in his favor, not as Rhyme calls his name from the other corner of the room, and Neku turns in time just to realize he’s being played, feels the tiara fall into place. Everyone’s laughing, and Neku feels… stupidly grateful, even as he grumbles and glares. He remembers when he used to watch moments like these between friends, passing by in the hallway, or on the other side of a window, looking in. It wasn’t even this good, back when he thought he had the best friend in the world, and did he ever, ever think he would be able to say that?
He wonders if Joshua ever feels the same, if this is fun for him or if even this is just for Neku’s benefit, Joshua indulging him by slumming it. He’s perfect at hiding in plain sight, whatever he’s really feeling all tucked behind an impenetrable, polite smile, a gracious distance. If he’s good enough to fake that, then maybe all the rest of it, maybe everything...
Maybe he has to be brave enough, to love Joshua without ever being sure.
--------------------
It’s a lot easier for Beat to walk out, empty-handed, than it had been to walk in, even if he’s groggy and only half-awake now, not realizing he’d fallen asleep until Rhyme was shaking his shoulder. Neku’s friend might look uptight, but he eats like a garbage compactor - Beat never even saw the last box disappear. Rhyme is yawning by the time they leave everyone else, and maybe it’s just him but… there’s something up between Neku and his… prissy friend. He’ll have to talk to Shiki sometime, alone, just to make sure he’s not missing something, before he blurts out something stupid. Which he does. A lot. Especially when he’s got other stuff to think about.
If he’s going to do that internship, he’ll need to talk to his parents. And they don’t. Talk. Not really interested in seeing their son waste his life behind a kitchen sink or a pot of noodles. Even though it’s the first time Beat’s thought he might be actually good at something, that he understands it coming right out of the gate, and doesn’t even need Rhyme to explain it to him. It’s not like he hasn’t done stuff before that they don’t approve of, and don’t like - and if it’s a good thing this time, maybe if he does it, they’ll get it. He’s no good with words, but if they can see it for themselves, that he’s got a plan. Hey, at least he wouldn’t starve, right?
“You have fun, Rhyme?”
“Yeah!” His sister is carefully carrying the little toy Shiki made for her, and every now and again she looks at it like she’s thinking hard about something, though compared to him she’s never not thinking hard. Rhyme’s always so serious, and though things have been better lately with their parents and all, Beat still doesn’t like to see her have to get involved in his fights, put herself between him and his problems.
“The food was really good tonight!”
“Nah. It wasn’t much. But thanks.” Maybe other people don’t think as much of compliments from their family, but really, as long as Rhyme’s happy, Beat figures he’s doing pretty damn good.
“So, what’d you think of that new guy? Neku’s friend?” He’s not seriously, just not trying to get Rhyme to tell him if he’s actually getting the vibe he thinks he’s getting, because she’s his kid sister, come on - and yeah, so she is a lot more perceptive, and just plain smarter than he is when it comes to things like this - but Rhyme’s stopped all of a sudden, looking down at the ground, arms hugged against her chest.
“Oi. Rhyme?”
He hates this. The not knowing what he’s done or what to do about it. All Beat can feel is vague anxiety, and frustration. If it doesn’t involve punching something, or yelling, he’s almost always at a loss.
“Hey, did that guy say something to you?” Not that Shiki or Eri or Neku would have let that happen, or kept it from him if it did, but then why…
“No.” Rhyme looks up, and gives him a bright smile, and Beat hates it, that he can’t tell if she’s faking. “No. Of course not. He was… nice.”
“‘Cause you know, if you want me to kick his ass-”
“NO!” It was supposed to be a joke, but there’s a fierce fear on Rhyme’s face, staring up at him, and he can’t tell, from the light, but she might even be trembling.
“I don’t want you to fight, ok, Beat? I don’t want you to fight anybody for me.”
“Okay. Okay, I promise.”
He feels like the jerk of the world, for upsetting her, but after a few more steps her hand slips up, into his, and it’s a quiet walk the rest of the way home.
=============================
Author’s Notes -
1. title lyrics - U2 - Magnificent
2. The bit with Beat, Higashizawa and the eel was inspired by this clip of the British show “Supersizers.” :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQFj-at1_0k
3. The movie they’re watching is ‘Valentino: The Last Emperor.’ A really good look at both the design end and the business end of fashion.
Author: twigcollins
Rating: PG-13. I love swearing.
Warnings: Spoilers through end of game plus secret reports.
Summary: Hey, what’s the worst that can happen?
Author’s Notes: Cross-posted to subarashiki_ds
Archive of StN links available here: http://delicious.com/Flidget/Signal2Noise
It’s not his room. His sheets don’t have nearly this high of a thread count. Neku makes a face into the pillow, doesn’t bother opening his eyes. All right, of course he’s here- so how did he get here? It takes a minute to trace the day back: School, then Tsuyoshi, then the concert, which was just as incredible as the first time, like a high-speed washing machine of awesome that dumped him back out onto the street, dizzy and slightly damp and Neku even kept checking, every few moments, to make sure he was still in the proper plane. It had seemed like the most spectacular evening, a perfect moment - and he wanted to share that, wanted someone - and hey, he had a boyfriend! Sort of. All the reasons now for thinking twice hadn’t even crossed his mind. That he maybe ought to take this slow. Make Joshua work for at least some of it. Maybe not immediately go from World’s Most Uncomfortable Virgin to the Gigantic Man-Whore of Tokyo?
A soft, damp something touches his shoulder, and Neku is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know what it is even as he lifts his head to try and see, without moving too much.
“Good morning.” Joshua says, calm and implacable as ever, chopsticks expertly laying a second plank of raw salmon next to the first.
“… the hell?”
“Careful. You’ll ruin the presentation.” Neku could and should do a great many things, including wind back the clock and never show up here. Instead he shoves the pillow away and drops his face against his crossed arms, feeling Joshua pile a little bit of what might be ginger in the small of his back.
“You are a freak. You are a freak beyond freaks.”
A soft snort of disdain. All of Joshua’s responses are some form of diluted superiority.
“If I were going for authenticity, I would have made you shave. And take a cold shower. I mean, ideally, you should be a virgin. But I suppose I can’t complain about that.”
Neku rolls his eyes. “How many hours a day do you work at being so damn creepy?”
No answer, just the feel of another piece of sushi being carefully added to his back. This one might be a roll. Neku’s a little sore, in a really wonderful kind of way, remembering what happened after he pounced on Joshua at the front door. It had taken a while to make it off the couch, just to do it all over again when they’d reached the bed. Joshua had as many tactics in the bedroom as he did anywhere else - one of those things Neku was just starting to understand, impossible to notice at the time with the Composer thoroughly and carefully having his way, and Neku had let him - begged for it, yes, there had been some rather undignified pleading and moaning and anything else Joshua had wanted to hear. Still, all of it was not without a different sort of purpose, Joshua not getting off himself until Neku had nothing left to give and could barely see straight. As if even that, allowing Neku the slightest glimpse of vulnerability was more than he could bear.
Well, it wasn’t like he ever thought this would be easy.
“What time is it?”
“What time do you want it to be?” Definitely superiority there. Wouldn’t be so superior if he had a math test coming up - Neku thinks, deliberately loud, and Joshua sighs. “Early, Neku. It’s very early.”
“Is that egg?” He says, and at least one piece of food makes it to his mouth instead - Joshua’s really good with those chopsticks. “Tell me you don’t have any cod roe. This is gross enough.”
“You know, if you didn’t complain so much, I bet you could get paid for this.”
So much for the tender blush of first love. Neku continues to not move, and refuses to comment as a few more pieces of sushi are lined up along his back. He shouldn’t be this awake, if it’s so early, but Neku doesn’t feel tired at all. Maybe this is an unexpected benefit, he’ll need to keep eating like a sumo but he’ll gain a couple extra hours in the day. It’s not like Joshua sleeps. Neku curls his hand back, trying to grab for whatever’s close, just past the edge of his waist, but he’s rapped sharply on the knuckles for his efforts. Neku makes a disgruntled noise, tucks his arms under his chest. It doesn’t, unfortunately, dislodge any of Joshua’s fishy artistic display.
“Hanekoma thinks you’re avoiding him.”
“That would be because I am.” Neku replies, but smiles a little. If Mr. H has talked with Joshua then he already knows everything - and hell, he’s been doing this, playing Producer to Joshua’s Composer for so long, he must understand something about going along with a pale-haired lunatic despite all the better judgment and intelligent arguments in the universe.
“I felt you, at the club. Watching me.” No answer, and since he’s a table now, Neku can’t look back or turn over to see the Composer’s expression. “You should have come out. You might have had fun.”
Instead of answering, Neku feels a piece of sushi lifted off his back, and then another. One more question he’s never asked, because it seemed unlikely he’d get an answer - why did Joshua never show up, never meet them in the Realground? He must have heard, must have known Neku wanted him there - had been teasing him so long that he must have known it would end up like this, or at least guessed.
“I think your body temperature’s affecting the taste. I need to go find an ice pin.”
“You’ll be chipping me out for like, an hour.” Neku chuckles. “I hit Beat once by accident.” In the last week, exhausted, the both of them more than a little panicked. Back when Joshua was dead and the Composer was some all-powerful unknown, full of dread. Neku stretches, tries to look again, but Joshua’s got his head tipped down and his hair is hiding his expression. The all-powerful unknown.
“We’re getting together tomorrow… well, today, actually. Shiki and Eri are making some last-minute adjustments before their big debut. Beat said he’d even bring Rhyme over.”
A piece of tuna, lifted off his right shoulder. Neku sighs.
“Maybe when they’re all done, we’ll go see a movie. Something loud and stupid. You can bitch about it for hours.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” The Composer’s voice is soft. If it were any time but now, Neku would think he’s imagining the edge there, nervousness or warning or both.
“A little bit late for that, don’t you think?” Here in Joshua’s bed, shouldn’t that already be his answer? Neku muses for a moment, on the point of no return. In the Throne Room? At the end of that second week? Maybe from the first moment he stumbled to the statue, frantic and confused and desperate for a way to save Shiki. “You know I trust you.”
The last piece of sushi disappears off his back, and Neku rolls onto his side. It’s not fair how good Joshua looks when he’s rumpled, wearing his usual shirt, now wrinkled, unbuttoned, a few dangling threads where buttons should be. “You don’t have to… worry, about being out there, Josh. I can protect you.”
Joshua chuckles, an indulgent little sound, even though he’s the one playing the recluse, and Neku doesn’t think it has to do with whether his powers are censured or not.
“Neku,” A high-and-mighty Composer sigh, as if he’s being purposely obtuse. “You have to admit, there’s not much of a point. It’s not like they’ll remember it.”
“Is that all?” Neku says, catches a flicker of what might be real surprise at his disdainful tone. “Josh, do you think you’re the first forgettable person in history? Half my class might be cardboard cutouts, for all I can tell. People forget who people are dating all the time.”
“So you’re going to tell them.”
Neku can’t help but laugh. “About this? Trust me, they’ll figure it out. And even if they don’t remember you well, maybe they’ll stop thinking I’m dating everyone else in Shibuya. Just… try to act…”
“Yes?” Joshua cocks an extremely unhelpful eyebrow, trailing the tip of a chopstick along the curve inside Neku’s knee. Neku scowls. The Composer pretends to be suddenly concerned with the far wall of his apartment.
“Good behavior. You know, if you were a normal person and not you. Just do whatever the opposite is you think about doing.”
Joshua leans back in haughty mock-offense, but his eyes are flashing, amused.
“So what’s my reward for all this unnecessary good behavior?”
Neku, to his credit, does not blush, even as he drags the blankets up a little further, although he’s half-convinced that Joshua’s just not telling him about the super sekret Composer x-ray powers.
“I mean, if I keep saving up my points-”
Neku rolls his eyes. “You don’t get points for not being a jackass. Jackass.”
Joshua isn’t listening. “I think you were right about the elevator. It seems a bit tame.”
Neku doesn’t ask but then again he doesn’t have to, because Joshua’s Imprinting a thought - no, pulling out a memory, of Shiki and that horrible time when the button was loose on his pants and -
“You’re not serious. Hell no.”
“Why not? One good reason.”
He really ought to be standing up for this, or like, going or not entirely completely, y’know naked and Joshua’s all rumpled but it doesn’t make him look any less imperious and dammit, why not? At least that ought to be some sort of… equity. Something. Joshua is still looking at him.
“I am not having sex with you in Scramble Crossing!” He yanks the sheet out and wraps it around himself in an awkward sort of pile that covers surprisingly little while threatening to trip him every half-second. “I’m taking a shower. I’m sticky and disgusting and it’s all your fault and I don’t need a reason - normal people don’t need a reason for not having sex in the middle of the city!”
“It’s the UG, Neku. No one could see us.” He’s rational and calm and Neku shouldn’t have gotten up because now there’s nothing to throw at him. “We’d hardly be the first.”
That observation makes him pause, thinking back on all those years of his life with no idea the Game existed, all those Reapers who could have been doing god knows what while he was eating a burger or shopping or just walking down the street or - god, Minamimoto’s O-Face. Neku gives an involuntary, full-body shudder, pretty sure that’s the feeling of his brain trying to vomit inside of his skull.
“Oh god, ohhhh I can’t ever unthink that.”
Joshua gets up, following him at a lazy pace - and yep, Neku immediately trips on his incredibly lame makeshift toga, feels his heel slide against the floor and he stumbles back half a step against the wall, and Joshua’s there, one arm up, hand pressed against the wall next to his ear and this, this is going to be a trend, he can tell.
“You still haven’t given me a good reason.”
Neku keeps forgetting to ask Josh what color his eyes should be, what they were before he became the Composer because there’s no way they’re supposed to look like they do now; his gaze electric and piercing, carrying a confidence that borders on cruelty and this is when it gets scary. It’s frightening, when Joshua looks at him this way, with that sort of desire, that kind of disdain for everything Neku thought of as the real world - and he wants this, wants to share in this secret, wants to be the person Joshua wants him to be. Let the Composer have him anywhere, whenever, and he’ll laugh about it, and give everything over to this life he can’t possibly be living.
“We’re having sex in the shower,” Neku murmurs, sliding toward the bathroom door, every inch of his body locked up, suddenly wanting Joshua so badly he can barely move, “not the UG.”
“Well,” Joshua says, shrugging, barely able to get the words out before Neku yanks him inside, “if you insist.”
----------------------
“Are you still obsessing over that coat?” Shiki calls out from inside the club room. “I can fix it, if you want me to. We can try something else.”
Eri doesn’t bother responding. She’s dragged this one out into the hall, dress form and all, just to try and get a new look at it. To convince herself the profile isn’t all wrong with the dress underneath and she’ll need to do something entirely different to make it work right. Maybe it’s just the fabric, puckering ever so slightly where the sleeves meet the body - it’s not Shiki’s fault, but when Eri had it down on paper, it all looked right. She’s the one who’s been pushing this particular jacket ever since the first sketch, and at the moment she’s trying to cultivate some patience for it, to treat it like a fun-loving but troublesome problem child instead of something to be set on fire.
So she pats the fabric, and straightens it, and takes it off the form and flips it inside out and repins it in a dozen different places and flips it back and pats it some more. Or maybe there’s nothing at all wrong with the coat and she’s just finally having a few moments of the pre-show jitters. The fact that been standing here picking invisible lint off of it for the last ten minutes might be a good sign. It’s not even like it’s that big a deal, this stupid show - Eri’s still not sure whether they were invited to join in because someone dropped out or just because it’s cute having a couple of kids who think they can - no. No, she’s not going to let herself think like that. Shiki’s depending on her, and Eri believes in them, and so things always work out.
… maybe if she added a scarf?
“The shoulders look a little boxy, don’t you think?”
The voice isn’t loud, but it seems to be following exactly her train of thought and Eri nearly jumps out of her skin, turning sharply, scowling before she can stop herself. The boy doesn’t seem to mind, leaning slightly against the doorway like he’s trying to be a lot older than he is. Eri lets out a little sigh of irritation, forcing her expression to stay neutral.
“It might make a more delicate profile with a wrap.” If there’s anything Eri can’t stand, it’s people who try to interrupt her in the middle of a problem. It doesn’t do anything except throw her off when she’s searching for a solution - and Eri clenches her jaw for a moment, when she realizes he might actually have a point.
“Are you looking for… someone?” I think the rest of the school is pretty much empty by now…” Eri has managed to sweet-talk a teacher for the larger club space, they can and have stayed until all hours trying to get things ready.
The boy doesn’t answer her, just steps away from the wall and toward her design, to take a closer look at what he’s already judged wanting, and Eri cringes for a moment and then hates herself for caring what he thinks. Whoever he is. Dressed a little dandy, really, but tidy without being fussy. White’s a risky color for how pale he is, but it works. Simple and elegant, and if it’s not quite making a statement it’s far better than the people she’s seen who seem to be following Neku’s trend of walking into a closet and having a mild seizure.
“Have we met?” Eri knows she knows everyone, and the slightest smile appears in the corner of his mouth, as if he’s aware of it too. He’s got a watch on his wrist - and it’s… holy crap, it’s a Pegaso, and Eri has to look at it twice to prove to herself it’s not a fake, before giving the rest of his outfit extra attention. His shoes are Dragon Couture, limited edition from last fall, and /that/ means she has to take a closer look at the shirt and pants too and… all right, yep, he’s dressing down at the cost of her entire summer wardrobe.
“I doubt it.” And she believes him. He glances toward the open door. “Do you mind if I look at the rest of the collection?”
It’s all in the way that he says it. He’s amused at some joke she’s not getting, but it’s not at all about their work. It’s not a lack of respect for what they’re doing - and he’s right about the coat, damn it - and Eri nods, pretending to go back to studying what might end up having to be scrapped, even if Shiki might murder her for all the wasted work. They have a backup piece, an earlier school project just in case this happened, just needing to be hemmed a little.
Eri hears it when Shiki realizes they’ve got company, the high-pitched sound of her surprise, and she smiles to herself, imagining Shiki caught off guard and blushing, the extra few seconds it takes her to change gears from intently working to dealing with surprise guests. It’s difficult not to go into the room, just hover at the door and make sure he doesn’t say anything or do anything, no matter what he drops on his accessories. Eri is overprotective of her friends, always has been, and Shiki is way more than just a friend, or a girlfriend, or even her co-creator. What they have together is way more than the sum of its parts. The way to respect that is to trust Shiki to take care of herself - she’s strong, but Eri has to give her the chance to be strong. Even when she’d rather be there, just to make sure.
“Hey.”
Eri jumps out of her skin for the second time in fifteen minutes, and on top of her already frazzled nerves it’s a good thing that Shiki hid the shears an hour ago. Neku shies away regardless, holding up his hands in mock surrender, and she instantly does a swift and vicious head-to-toe of his wardrobe. Nothing is immediately offensive, so she settles for an all-purpose glare and a growl that makes him cringe again.
“The salesguy said this shirt goes with these pants!” He blurts out, and finally smiles when she laughs. Neku really doesn’t look half-bad. Obviously he’s had help, and she’s starting to guess from where. “So, how’s it going?”
Eri sighs, takes a deep breath, not even sure at this point if her nervousness actually matches up to reality or if it’s just random anxiety. Everyone thinks she’s bulletproof, but Eri is as worried and self-conscious as anyone else, she just ignores it as much as she can.
“I know Shiki’s been waiting for you - and don’t worry, I think she actually has boy clothes this time. I’m…” Eri rolls her eyes, accepting defeat as gracefully as she can, pulling the jacket free and resisting the urge to wad it up in both hands. “Damn it, it really might look better with a wrap.”
Neku glances toward the door, eyes narrowing slightly, listening in on the bare murmur of conversation, the stranger’s comments and Shiki’s replies.
“There’s some boy with a Pegaso watch in there, if you’ll believe that - so…” Eri trails off, because Neku’s already walking to the door, and she sees it when he must see whoever it is inside. He just lights up, a smile Eri’s seen him give to Shiki every now and again, but even then it’s reserved for special occasions.
So, this is the boyfriend.
Eri likes Neku. He sees Shiki for who she really is, the person she wants to be - the person Shiki believes she is, a lot of the time now. She’s changed, more confident in herself. Happier, when Eri didn’t know what else to try or how to change things to make it better. At first, it was a surprise, some new boy out of nowhere, and a little part of her couldn’t help but worry - but if she was jealous it didn’t last long, not with Shiki so happy and their work suddenly in a new place, better than what they’d done before. So she has Neku to thank for that, and he’s a pretty cool guy, and he makes Shiki smile, and… well, he has no fashion sense, inexplicably, a total blind spot - especially with boyfriend showing up and bringing all his designer tags along.
Shiki’s going to be a little disappointed about the 777 thing. Eri would have liked some free backstage passes herself.
She drags the dress form with her, to the door. Shiki is hemming the bottom of a skirt, Neku handing her the pins - the other boy is leaning back against a desk, apparently in some sort of grudge match with gravity, not quite slouching, not quite /posing/, but…
Neku says something low that makes the other boy chuckle slightly, responding with a short comment that has Shiki yelping and turning red, though her hands are steady and never miss a stitch.
Eri’s good at people, maybe that’s why everyone thinks she’s so confident and secure, that she just has a slight knack for reading body language or little expressions and it’s just as clear to her that Neku’s crushing hard as it is that the other boy isn’t giving her anything he doesn’t want to, a calm, collected manner that borders right up on indifference. Maybe that’s the reason she’s on edge. Neku doesn’t need indifference, doesn’t need to get hurt by some stupid rich boy - and this is the point where Shiki would tell her not to worry so much, not to get so involved, but Shiki’s busy working and the boy is watching her, gaze steady. As if he knows everything she’s thinking, and he smiles.
“I don’t think we were properly introduced.”
Neku sighs. “You could have told them your name, at least.” He turns to Shiki and Eri. “Just ignore anything he says. We think it’s a chemical imbalance.”
“What is?”
“Pretty much the whole… him… thing.” A slight, wry look between them - it’s definitely serious, this. At least Neku isn’t acting very different around Boyfriend McFancy Pants, isn’t being too nice. With what she’d heard about his last friendship crashing and burning, it wasn’t impossible to think he might be a little deferential, just in case. Eri hates it when people are less than they should be, just to keep someone else around. Wouldn’t want - no, probably wouldn’t let it happen to Neku.
“Eri, Shiki - this is Josh. Joshua.”
“It’s a nickname.” He says, all ease and charm but still laughing at her, behind his eyes. Or she’s overreacting. Or maybe this is how he is with everyone, and she needs to stop taking it personally. “Nice to meet you, again. I must say, you did an excellent job with that suit. Neku hardly looked like himself.”
“Wait, so that was /you/ with the suit and…?” Shiki says, and now she’s turned away from her work and is in the process of catching up, staring between Neku and Joshua with a slight blush just starting to rise on her cheeks. “Um…”
“You were right, dear,” Joshua says, his innocent expression carrying a pronounced smirk, “We didn’t have to say anything at all.”
Neku grumbles into his hand as Shiki stammers, and Eri can feel the tension in the room pop, just like a soap bubble, the first and most awkward minutes of this meeting passing, already fading into a more easy feeling, although when Joshua’s eyes meet hers, she holds his gaze for a long moment before looking away. Just so he knows she’s watching.
-----------------------
Okay, since no one’s asking, Neku can admit that he was just slightly worried about how it would all work out, whether Joshua would have any fun at all or fit in with their groove - but he’s forgetting that this is the Composer, who knows a thing or two about grooves, and that the rest of the world gets polite, normal Joshua, while bitchy and irritating Joshua is all his own. Lucky.
Eri’s thrown in a movie, the retrospective of some fashion designer, images of Italy and Paris flashing by, old fashions from the sixties and seventies interspersed with more modern designs. Neither Eri and Shiki are paying much attention, probably have seen it a dozen times by now, though they both look up when a naked model walks into the room, and the designer sweeps a mass of sheer, red fabric around her, a team of seamstresses descending on her like bees on a flower, and Shiki’s eyes are gleaming, that’s her dream right there.
Neku doesn’t watch the movie near as much as he watches her, Shiki stitching the edge of a blouse, alternating between a row of silk ribbon flowers in pale white, and a row of the tiniest crystal beads he’s ever seen, glancing at the book propped up by one knee every time she switches back to the flowers. It’s amazing to watch, the tiny stitches in near-invisible thread - and she glances up, sees him watching her and smiles shyly. She doesn’t remember anything, not about the Game, not that Neku thought she would even with Joshua around, but it’s still a relief.
“You’re going to go blind,” he teases, watching her expertly tip another bead onto the hair-thin needle.
“I got lucky. I almost couldn’t find enough of the right beads.”
“There are wrong beads?”
The question earns him a quick crash course in the perils of using inferior seed beads, between bits of the movie where the same team of seamstresses are now attaching thousands of tiny sequins to the fringe of a dress, and Shiki glances from the screen to him.
“I’m not that good yet. I don’t even know where I can learn some of that, these days.”
“I think you’re amazing.” She blushes, and smacks him lightly with the edge of the now-sparkling fabric. Joshua’s voice comes from the other corner of the room, where he’s talking with Eri. It seems like they’ve hit it off, for whatever reason, and Neku’s pretty confident Eri can handle herself.
“… maybe something that doesn’t show off his knees like he’s five.”
“My clothes are fine, guys!” He yells back, and it is decidedly unnerving to have three pairs of eyes suddenly looking at him with indulgent pity. Neku sulks, pulling out his sketchbook just as the door opens, and Rhyme steps in.
“Finally, you’re here!” Eri says, moving toward the carefully hanging rows of mostly finished clothes. “Where’s your brother?”
“Bringing the food up.” Eri is shuffling through the hangers, and Shiki is pointing out something in the movie and Neku turns, and so he doesn’t see the moment that Rhyme sees Joshua, and the way she stops, eyes wide for a moment in nothing less than sheer terror. His eyes widen slightly, surprised, and then he smiles, so by the time Neku looks back, it just looks like Rhyme is vaguely shy of strangers, and given the stranger it’s not like he can blame her.
“Rhyme, this is my friend Joshua.” You remember Rhyme, right? Eaten by a shark and turned into a squirrel?
Safely returned to the land of the living by a Composer’s endless grace and virtue? I remember. The thought comes back to him, with Joshua’s dry wit dripping off every word.
“Very nice to meet you.” He says, and Rhyme nods, and finally smiles weakly. By that point Beat is coming through the door, boxes piled high in his hands, and no one notices if she still looks a little pale, or the way she keeps a bit of space between herself and Joshua, doesn’t let him get too close.
--------------------
“You should have just boxed up the whole kitchen.” Neku says, as Beat gingerly transfers the containers to a table. It smells very good, and Beat grins, proud and tired.
“I told him I was meetin’ with my friends, so he had me take a whole bunch of stuff. A few… uh, attempts. Some of the tempura fell apart. Think it’s still good, though.”
Beat seems… different. A little more relaxed, although that could be because he’s just exhausted, and Neku has to take a step to the side when he moves suddenly, smelling overwhelmingly like sweat and dashi stock. Beat just laughs.
“Yah, I know. Hell of a night. Back room was roasting, an’ the boss had this big guy in there, some part-time… I dunno. I guess I’m spost’a help him teach a class or whatever. Guy was huge, kept talkin’ about food like, the entire time. Didn’t matter if I said a thing.”
No, no his life will not converge like this without his permission. “… Higashizawa?”
Beat nods. “Yeah. Maybe, yeah. You know him?”
“Not really.” And even that is more than he wants to.
“We had to do this eel thing, that’s in the bottom box there, the leftovers - ‘cept it was still, yanno - alive?” Beat makes the same sort of face as when people call him by his full first name, and then laughs. “Yah. Mr. Iron Chef Higashi-whatever, he didn’t like that too much.”
It’s a very satisfying image, the jerk who put them through the first week of Game hell freaking out over an eel. Beat passes out the boxes, deliberately setting two aside for Neku, and glances over at Joshua, speaking in what he probably thinks is a quiet voice. “So what’s with the prissy kid? Eri’s friend?”
“No… he’s, uh. He’s mine. My friend, I mean. Joshua.” And even though Shiki and Eri both giggle, Neku is safely confident in the knowledge that any and all innuendo will all go well over Beat’s head. Beat nods, though his eyes narrow for a moment, Joshua looking back, mild and complacent because, save for Eri, he’s already held all of their lives in his hand.
“You look familiar.” Beat says, jerking Neku out of one disturbing thought right into another. “I ever roll over you on my board?”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Joshua says, and Beat shrugs and starts passing out boxes. Neku sees Shiki creep up on Rhyme, setting something on her shoulder. It’s a little amigurumi doll, in the shape of the sketch he did of Rhyme’s Noise form. He didn’t even know Shiki could crochet, though it’s not surprising and this… the sight of it now perched on her is the sort of weirdness he should really be accustomed to by now. Rhyme giggles, and Neku is nudged, a box put in his hands. He wonders if Josh will need two as well, but when he opens it up there’s enough food there - fried pork, vegetables, rice, some fish dumplings - that he wonders if even he’ll need the second box.
“The boss says there’s a guy that can teach me noodles. Like, super noodles. He says he thinks I’m serious enough, to try for a, I dunno, apprenticeship.” Beat says.
“You don’t sound very happy about that,” Eri replies, naturally interested in perfection and just assuming that everyone feels the same.
“I dunno,” Beat shrugs, “I jus’ wanna make food for people, yanno? So they’re not hungry.”
“Is that why my sushi rolls look like little panda bears?” Joshua says mildy.
In the silence that follows, Beat quietly switches Joshua’s box with his sister’s, and everyone pretends that he’s not beet red.
---------------------------
“Neku, if you move your arm again I’m sewing you into this.”
“You look perfect, Rhyme. Try it on with the hat!”
“Why does she get to look more manly than I do?” Neku sighs, the high-waisted gown crinkling a little as he turns to watch Rhyme dart behind him. She’s wearing a young boy’s outfit, and it does look adorable even before she puts the hat on, looking over her shoulder in the mirror, posing with one heel up. A few feet away, Beat is sacked out under a table, one hand on the cookbook flattened out across his chest. Rhyme had been so proud, when she said how hard he’d been working.
“Eyes front, princess! Eyes front!” Eri barks, and Neku does as he’s told, looking to where Joshua is watching all this as if it’s been set up just for him. All right, so when Neku asked him to come along he really didn’t think it would involve the Composer watching him get buttoned into a glittery blue ballgown, complete with matching satin gloves that, for some reason, he had to wear.
It’s not a part of the show - those outfits are all hanging against the far wall, and now Shiki and Neku are doing some mending and fitting on costumes for the school play, since they’re both insane to take on double projects, and have convenient models that they say are about the right dimensions. Neku feels a little sorry for the girl who has his chest, or he would if he thought this was anything but an excuse for them to put him in a dress and giggle about it. Still, Shiki and Eri both look a little more relaxed, and it has been nothing but fun just hanging out with his friends, goofing off probably the best part of a normal life.
“No tiara.” He growls, and Eri sticks her tongue out at him, before holding it out to Joshua. “Can you convince him for me?”
“You have to admit, Neku - you look rather regal in blue.”
Okay, so maybe introducing Eri to Joshua is not one of his all-time smart moves, especially after she’d got him the closest Neku’s ever seen to an actual Composer spit-take, some side remark about trying to figure out the particulars of Neku’s love life, and the pre-Joshua, post-777 speculation that his sugar daddy was that guy who ran that weird coffee shop nearby.
Neku’s pretty sure the “mention it to Mr. H and I’ll kill you” Imprint got through loud and clear, the question not so much if Joshua heard him as if he cared. The answer is probably not in his favor, not as Rhyme calls his name from the other corner of the room, and Neku turns in time just to realize he’s being played, feels the tiara fall into place. Everyone’s laughing, and Neku feels… stupidly grateful, even as he grumbles and glares. He remembers when he used to watch moments like these between friends, passing by in the hallway, or on the other side of a window, looking in. It wasn’t even this good, back when he thought he had the best friend in the world, and did he ever, ever think he would be able to say that?
He wonders if Joshua ever feels the same, if this is fun for him or if even this is just for Neku’s benefit, Joshua indulging him by slumming it. He’s perfect at hiding in plain sight, whatever he’s really feeling all tucked behind an impenetrable, polite smile, a gracious distance. If he’s good enough to fake that, then maybe all the rest of it, maybe everything...
Maybe he has to be brave enough, to love Joshua without ever being sure.
--------------------
It’s a lot easier for Beat to walk out, empty-handed, than it had been to walk in, even if he’s groggy and only half-awake now, not realizing he’d fallen asleep until Rhyme was shaking his shoulder. Neku’s friend might look uptight, but he eats like a garbage compactor - Beat never even saw the last box disappear. Rhyme is yawning by the time they leave everyone else, and maybe it’s just him but… there’s something up between Neku and his… prissy friend. He’ll have to talk to Shiki sometime, alone, just to make sure he’s not missing something, before he blurts out something stupid. Which he does. A lot. Especially when he’s got other stuff to think about.
If he’s going to do that internship, he’ll need to talk to his parents. And they don’t. Talk. Not really interested in seeing their son waste his life behind a kitchen sink or a pot of noodles. Even though it’s the first time Beat’s thought he might be actually good at something, that he understands it coming right out of the gate, and doesn’t even need Rhyme to explain it to him. It’s not like he hasn’t done stuff before that they don’t approve of, and don’t like - and if it’s a good thing this time, maybe if he does it, they’ll get it. He’s no good with words, but if they can see it for themselves, that he’s got a plan. Hey, at least he wouldn’t starve, right?
“You have fun, Rhyme?”
“Yeah!” His sister is carefully carrying the little toy Shiki made for her, and every now and again she looks at it like she’s thinking hard about something, though compared to him she’s never not thinking hard. Rhyme’s always so serious, and though things have been better lately with their parents and all, Beat still doesn’t like to see her have to get involved in his fights, put herself between him and his problems.
“The food was really good tonight!”
“Nah. It wasn’t much. But thanks.” Maybe other people don’t think as much of compliments from their family, but really, as long as Rhyme’s happy, Beat figures he’s doing pretty damn good.
“So, what’d you think of that new guy? Neku’s friend?” He’s not seriously, just not trying to get Rhyme to tell him if he’s actually getting the vibe he thinks he’s getting, because she’s his kid sister, come on - and yeah, so she is a lot more perceptive, and just plain smarter than he is when it comes to things like this - but Rhyme’s stopped all of a sudden, looking down at the ground, arms hugged against her chest.
“Oi. Rhyme?”
He hates this. The not knowing what he’s done or what to do about it. All Beat can feel is vague anxiety, and frustration. If it doesn’t involve punching something, or yelling, he’s almost always at a loss.
“Hey, did that guy say something to you?” Not that Shiki or Eri or Neku would have let that happen, or kept it from him if it did, but then why…
“No.” Rhyme looks up, and gives him a bright smile, and Beat hates it, that he can’t tell if she’s faking. “No. Of course not. He was… nice.”
“‘Cause you know, if you want me to kick his ass-”
“NO!” It was supposed to be a joke, but there’s a fierce fear on Rhyme’s face, staring up at him, and he can’t tell, from the light, but she might even be trembling.
“I don’t want you to fight, ok, Beat? I don’t want you to fight anybody for me.”
“Okay. Okay, I promise.”
He feels like the jerk of the world, for upsetting her, but after a few more steps her hand slips up, into his, and it’s a quiet walk the rest of the way home.
=============================
Author’s Notes -
1. title lyrics - U2 - Magnificent
2. The bit with Beat, Higashizawa and the eel was inspired by this clip of the British show “Supersizers.” :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQFj-at1_0k
3. The movie they’re watching is ‘Valentino: The Last Emperor.’ A really good look at both the design end and the business end of fashion.