#nelcu

[txt]: Hey Neku

[txt]: soooo you seem to know a lot about this gay stuff

[txt]: have you ever kissed a boy?

" Well now you just sound dirty, Neku~ "

She exhales a sigh and shakes her head a bit, (playful) disappointment apparent on her visage. “Even at 23, you still refuse to take proper care of your clothes.” She reaches in her handbag, pulling out a needle and thread. The hem on his sleeveless shirt was fraying; lucky for him, it wasn’t a mend that required him to strip this time. Making short work of the problem, she begins threading the needle skillfully in and out the fabric. 

   Joshua stretched over the arm rest of the white linen couch, his arms reaching toward the juke box machine. His bones popped with a satisfying sound. The sigh that trailed through his nose was long, relieved, ending with his lips curving upwards into a cat-like grin. 

   He’d forgotten how fragile a human body could be.

   Once he was sitting upright again, his thumb slid across the touch screen of his phone to where it lay upon to a drafted message for none other than: Neku Sakuraba. Joshua had considered, for a solid thirty seconds, leaving the young man alone to enjoy his day off. However, Sundays were so dreadfully dull. 

   Joshua was... lonely, to say the least.

   “Neku, dear,” he typed. “won’t you come to the Dead God’s Pad for some quality time?” 

   He attached an image of himself that he had taken minutes prior: a shot taken from his nose down to his jutting pelvic bones. The Composer was shirtless, baring tight, pale skin for Neku to see.