𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐒! ➛ a. keiji ✔

𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟭𝟬 ── 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳

listen to the song above for a soundtrack!

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

it was true that keiji had been bothered with bokuto's comment about how he was going to move in with ichika — after all, the two of them had been friends for forever, and the tiny apartment in which they lived wouldn't feel the same without his loud buddy there. plus, he felt as if their friendship would slowly fall apart without akaashi's stoic expression or bokuto's signature "hey hey hey!". however, it was also true that the musician knew koutarou needed his space, and he was indeed glad that he was about to live with his girlfriend. nonetheless, akaashi had never been the one to express his feelings, and now wouldn't be the day he would.

trying to shake away any thoughts regarding bokuto moving out, the blue-eyed man entered the "write with us" private chat room once more. the ever-so-often clicking of the button that sent him to the private chat tab was driving keiji insane, given he'd already considered starting a conversation with @musicalities at least a thousand times only that morning, yet failed to even send them a "hello". the tension between the two, still, is what drove him to his edge. after all, he never even properly clicked on the conversation, deciding to watch the writer's profile picture from afar.

nevertheless, not clicking on the chat made him feel like a coward. and there isn't one thing that bothers a "risking-it-all" musician more than feeling like a coward. he clicked on the chat.

from: @musicalities

akaashi-san, i don't want you to find out where i am. please don't come here.

sent from unknown

immediately after seeing that text, akaashi's face turned into a frown. when had that message been sent? he hadn't read it. and he knew their latest conversation had left their relationship in shackles, yet none of them had sent each other anything after all that. the one person that had probably logged into the chatroom could only be... wait a fucking minute... "BOKUTO!" akaashi shouted, eager to punch his friend in the face, happy news about moving in with girlfriend or not.

◦'𖥸'◦

with no one to confide in about long lost lyrics or poetry that never saw the light of day, [y/n] stayed at home alone, like they always did. they ever so desperately wanted to emancipate themselves from their parents, yet living alone never felt like such a curse. with only the slow rise and fall of their own breathing to hear, the secret writer decided to turn on the television — maybe watch a show, maybe fall asleep on the old couch.

slowly but surely, they didn't feel so alone. thoughts crept onto their mind, like a spider crawling out of its den and atop the web. they twiddled mindlessly with the strings, creating a melody of agony and anxiety. why didn't akaashi respond to my text? he was clearly trying to figure out where i lived. is he really going to ignore me like that? the spider inched on deeper and deeper, and into the most secluded parts of the writer's mind it went. how does he have the guts to just do that and leave? does he hate me now? and deeper. well, i'm not important enough for him to hate me. and deeper. yeah, i should just shut up.

the first channel showing was a news channel about music. "ugh," [y/n] sighed, "of course". it hadn't even shown keiji's blue eyes or raven hair, yet the writer already knew it was about to. his face flooded every since music-related tv channel, or social media platform for that matter. and not just that, it also flooded [y/n]'s mind. the spider just wouldn't leave the goddamned web and, as it slithered further down, it got to where it wanted to be: [y/n] wanted nothing to do with keiji anymore.

of course, they still planned on sending him lyrics every now and then. still, they couldn't bear the thought of the musician for some reason they still did not recognize. they ran through the options of what they were feeling in their head, hoping to find a decent answer to that gut-wrenching, punch-inducing feeling that turned their stomach into jelly. was it jealousy? not likely. was it envy? more likely, yet not really. was it disappointment? yep. hit the nail in the head, they thought, disgusted at the sight of the musician's face. [y/n] turned off the tv.

◦'𖥸'◦

bokuto came out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist and one drying his hair, and it was safe to say the man was drenched in water. his black-and-grey hair sent tiny little droplets of water around his face or down his muscled back, yet akaashi was too angry at his friend to notice it — even though it wet the entire ground in which koutarou stood.

the musician walked to the code student. "did you send a text to @musicalities?" he tried phrasing his question as neatly and saying it as clearly as he could, still his anger took the better of him, making the question sound rushed and mumbled. bokuto frowned. "did you send a text to @musicalities?" he asked again, trying to sound as crystal as he could once more. koutarou frowned again, yet this time it wasn't due to not understanding what the musician had said.

"um... not really? they sent me a text — well, you — but i didn't answer it, so no," he replied in an attempt to ease his friend's visible annoyance. he knew that, if he were a cartoon, there would be fumes coming out of his ears and his face would go all red. koutarou was glad he wasn't a cartoon. "why?"

"wait, let me rephrase the question: is the text they sent you the reason why you said you hadn't been able to trace their ip?" akaashi asked. his face is red but there aren't fumes yet. maybe i'm still in the safe zone, the semi-naked man thought, bringing his second towel closer to his face to dry off the sweat that had appeared in his forehead, mingling with the water.

"uh... probably?" he said, but the affirmation sounded like a question. "i mean, i didn't want to do something that they wouldn't be comfortable with, you know?"

"BUT THAT WAS THE WHOLE POINT? i-" akaashi stammered, but decided to stop in his track. "you know what? i don't care. in fact, thank you for doing that, you're saving me a whole bunch of 'privacy invasion' trouble. just- just go get dressed, for fuck's sake," he said, trying to put an end to the conversation.

however, the raven-haired man had no such luck. "wait, is that why you chose to live with ichika? are you guilty of what you've done and now you want to avoid me? how great of you." he turned around to ask his friend — but, frankly, bokuto did not seem so much his friend as he seemed his enemy as of now. the toweled man looked sullen, as if he didn't know why he was being attacked like that. he tried muttering something, anything that would make akaashi feel better about this whole situation he'd gotten himself in, but no words came out of his mouth. he decided to close it, the sound of his steps dying down as he made his way back to the bathroom to get dressed.

on the other end, keiji sighed heavily. he couldn't believe he had ruined things with the two people he cared about the most: his best friend and his savior. i can't believe this.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

a/n: hey !! im back with another chapter, hehe <3 i promised i would update this today and i did even though im almost sleeping with my face on the computer so an applause, please :claps: thank you, thank you. and BOY have i got news for yall !!!!!! this bitch is officially.......drum roll, please........a fucking simp !! yes, you got it right (or didn't idk) i have no one but myself, yet i am simping for a dude. honestly, that's really funny cause i spent a whole year after coming out as bi saying men ain't shit, yet here i am, head over heels for one. but the worst part is: homie doesn't even care. in brazil, we've got this phrase that goes "nem tchum", which means "he/she/they doesn't/don't even care". well, i guess. idk, brazilian phrases are weird, but great. 

anyways, how are you guys? i hope yall are well. if u aint tho, dont hesitate to come talk to me (if ur comfortable with it), im all ears !! i love u guys so so much <3 as always, thank you so much for reading !!

signing off, 

— 𝖒.