Work Text:
Joshua stares at the piano.
It’s as it always looks now. No longer a speck of dust on it. The sunlight spills through the window and hits the wood, making it shine and almost sparkle. It makes it warm, too, Joshua notes, as he runs his fingers down the grain. Joshua sits on the bench, and as it always has, the piano welcomes him with its reliable presence and familiar comfort.
Perhaps “as it always has” is not entirely accurate. It’s true that it had been here for quite some time. But tucked away in this small room at the back of WildKat, Joshua hadn’t seen it for a while – at least not until last year. Mr. Hanekoma had put it back here, long ago when Joshua was alive and frequented the café often. It was something never really addressed – one day Joshua showed up and Mr. H had this back room cleared out and fitted with a couch, a little TV, a bookshelf – and most notably, this upright piano. Only when he saw it did Joshua remember that he had told Mr. H offhandedly one day he had to go home for his violin lessons – Mr. H had asked if he liked it, and Joshua had just told him the truth, which was to shrug and say not really, and that he wished it were the piano instead.
Joshua did play this piano, back then. It was nice to finally get to play what he wanted and pretty much whenever he wanted. But as time went on – as he spent more and more of his time planning on entering the Game, and how he’d win – he found himself sitting here less and less, and after he became Composer… well, he just never came back to play.
This was, of course, until last year. Neku, in typical Neku fashion, had found this place – that Mr. H still had sitting unchanged for all this time for reasons Joshua can’t fathom – by sticking his curious nose where it didn’t belong. Not that Joshua really minded – Joshua’s not sure he ever really minded this with Neku, in any context. Regardless, Neku had taken it upon himself to dust off the place and freshen it up with some photos of Joshua and his –
He pauses his thoughts to glance at some of the pictures on the wall. There are even more now than there were last year – of Joshua and, yes, his friends. He didn’t think of them that way last year – these photos of himself, Neku, Shiki, Beat, Rhyme, sometimes the Twisters… they were photos of Joshua and Neku, and Neku’s friends. His gaze lingers on one from just a couple weeks ago, when they had all gone to Shiki and Eri’s latest Gatto Nero exhibition. They’re all sitting, with Neku next to Joshua, and on Joshua’s other side is Shoka, holding up her phone to take the selfie. Her head is leaned toward Joshua, almost touching him. Behind her is Rindo, arms wrapped around her shoulders. Next to him is Beat, eagerly waving at the camera with one hand with his other on Joshua’s shoulder. Rhyme is draped over his arm to squeeze into the frame, with Nagi squished next to her and Fret next to Neku.
But thinking isn’t what Joshua is here for, he reminds himself, as he turns his head back to face the piano. He catches a glimpse of his subtle reflection in the shine of the wood, of the small, absent smile – something yet still rather unfamiliar – looking back at him.
Once again, his eyes fall to the piano. Thinking is what he’s here for, he supposes, though about something else entirely. He brings his fingers to the keys and ever so lightly presses one of them, the middle note gently falling through the room. Perhaps it’s odd for the person whose birthday is in a week to be thinking of doing something like this for someone else, but it’s odd for Joshua to be thinking of his birthday at all – and even more so odd, if the lightness in his chest is any indication, to be looking forward to it.
Joshua presses the same key again, and then a new one, lower. He does the same succession again – hm, no, too quiet. He thinks. He tries another combination of three, lower, and then two, higher, and then four somewhere in the middle – no, none of them feel quite right.
Well, at least he has a week to figure this out. Joshua drums his fingertips against the wood – perhaps he should start writing things down, instead of thinking it in practice like this?
He’s moved his hand to the top of the piano to close it when the sunlight hits his bare hand and forearm. Joshua nearly lets out an audible sigh of contentment – despite almost being the end of October, it’s uncharacteristically warm. The sun is that of a spring’s, thawing and breaking through the cold, rather than the sharp rays of autumn’s. It dapples on his skin through the breaks in the curtain, ever present, ever warm.
Joshua looks at the keys again. He presses gently, softly, and then another key, and another, letting it flow through the room with all the warmth and brightness of the sun and its breeze.
Joshua feels his smile grow a little wider and plays a few more keys and realizes he was silly to think he’d have to give this much though at all.
No, of course this would come naturally.
Neku opens the door to WildKat, long past the notion of knocking, even in cases where it seemed like it wasn’t open. And even if it were the instance where no one was in there, he had a key, tucked safely in his pocket.
As Neku walks in, he notes Joshua is in fact there, lounging on one of the booth seats, legs draped over the edge. His head sticks up as the bell above the door chimes, and he returns Neku’s smile.
“Happy birthday,” Neku says, unzipping his hoodie. Truthfully, needn’t even have worn it here – despite being November first it felt more like May first.
“Thank you,” Joshua says, standing up and idly striding toward the counter. “Do you want a drink or something? I made coffee earlier.”
“I’m not having you get me anything on your birthday,” Neku says, though he joins Joshua near the counter. “But I’m good anyway, thanks.”
Joshua shrugs. “I’d still ask you on your birthday.”
“Yes, I know,” Neku deadpans, but he’s smiling all the same. Joshua is too – and he’s leaning on the counter, posture relaxed as he texts away. Neku’s not trying to pry, but it’s impossible for him to miss that it’s to Mr. H, who’s sent him several birthday-themed emotes to which Joshua is replying. Neku’s smile grows a little wider – he remembers last year, when Mr. H had left him a cake and a simple note, and this year Joshua has agreed to have dinner and cake here with him and their friends, and even let Mr. H put up some balloons for decoration. “Sorry I’m early, by the way,” Neku says.
Joshua shakes his head as he pockets his phone. “I figured you would be. I suppose I don’t mind that much.”
Despite his words, he’s leaned a little closer to Neku over the counter, his smile turning a bit wry. Neku rolls his eyes fondly, his gaze falling to linger on Joshua’s hands on the counter – open and free, and Neku starts to bring his a bit closer –
“In fact, I wanted you to be,” Joshua says, turning right around and heading toward the back rooms. “Come here.”
Neku raises an eyebrow but follows nonetheless. Truthfully, he had come here partly just because he wanted to hang out with Joshua, of course, but also because there was something he wanted to do – coincidentally back here – but now he’s curious as to what Joshua might want with him.
Unsurprisingly, they head to the room Neku had tidied up last year. A feeling of pride washes over him as he realizes it’s really been a year since then – a year of him and Joshua using this room as a hangout spot, lounging on the couch together, or playing Tin Pin, or Neku cramming some of his schoolwork while Joshua played the piano. A year of filling it with memories and time spent together and photos of them and their friends.
Joshua takes a seat the piano bench and pats the spot next to him. Now Neku’s very curious. It’s not that unusual for them to play together – of course, Neku is nowhere near the pianist Joshua is, but he can keep the simpler beats of less complex songs as Joshua plays the main parts.
Or so that’s been the case. Recently, Neku’s taken chances as practicing – mostly at his university’s music club when they’re not around. He hasn’t told Joshua – Neku intended on showing off today, on his birthday, or shortly after, to show Joshua that he wants to be a little more invested in this hobby of his, to be able to do a little more of it with him. He’s still of course no professional or anything, but he wants to at least be able to play the supporting part of whatever pieces Joshua may want to play, even the more difficult ones.
“What did you want to play?” Neku asks as Joshua lifts the cover off the keys.
Joshua shakes his head. “Just listen.”
And so Neku does. Joshua starts to play, softly. Neku’s almost positive it’s not a song Joshua’s ever played before. Judging by the fact that Joshua’s eyes are closed, he’s either doing it intuitively or from memory. It wasn’t uncommon for Joshua to not play anything specific, but to just mess around wherever his fingers took him – but this is clearly something deliberate, intentional.
The song is soft, almost no keys pressed down fully. It’s a very light melody with a steady, sure rhythm. Neku doesn’t really know how to describe music he likes in appropriate terminology beyond the basics, but he is sure he likes it. It feels warm, somehow, it feels promising and hopeful.
It goes on for a bit – Neku’s not really sure how long – he only knows that he’s lost in it, in the way Joshua plays, the way his face is free of any tension, the way his long eyelashes seem to sparkle as the sun hits them, the way his body and hands move fluidly and gracefully. Though Joshua always plays with a certain elegance and ease, there’s almost something different about this – like he’s pressing the keys with more care, with some sort of extra gentleness. As the last key finally fades out, Joshua opens his eyes, though he doesn’t quite meet Neku’s gaze.
“That was awesome,” Neku says. “Did you write that yourself?”
Joshua only nods. His eyes are still affixed onto the keys.
“I loved it,” Neku says honestly. “It was really good. I’d wanna hear it again, whenever you want. Or anything else you write.”
Strangely, Joshua is quiet. Neku would have expected some kind of self-praising comment, or any kind of prideful quip, really. But eventually, after curling a free few strands of hair around his finger, Joshua says, “I’m glad. It’s an overdue thank you for what you’ve done here. I wrote it thinking of you.”
Neku’s breathing goes still. The words take a moment to process in his head. Joshua wrote that for him? Something that beautiful, something played so tenderly? Neku’s face is on fire, suddenly. Piano playing always seemed to be something a bit personal for Joshua – he had yet to play in the company of anyone but Neku and Mr. H, and even then, never while the latter is in the room and – Neku’s heart thumps so hard it hurts.
Neku has no idea what to say. It’s so – sweet, personal, something Joshua certainly wouldn’t do for anyone else.
All he can really think to do is take his hand and place it gently on Joshua’s face. He runs his thumb along his cheek as Joshua turns toward him, as Joshua’s eyes flutter shut and Neku places a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Thank you,” he murmurs against them. Joshua doesn’t reply in any verbal way, instead just returning the kiss as he brings one of his hand to rest atop Neku’s free one.
They stay like that a moment after, not really kissing, but not breaking apart, either.
Eventually, it’s Neku who slowly pulls back. “Hey. I want to hear that again… but can we play something?”
There’s a small smile on Joshua’s face as he pulls away, too, placing his hands back on the keys. “Sure. We can do something easy.”
Neku quickly puts his own hand on the piano. “I wanna start.”
He can practically hear the way Joshua raises an eyebrow in his voice. “Oh? Bold today, I see.”
Neku lets him hear, in turn, the smile that’s in his voice as he says, “Well, you’re not the only one with surprises.”