𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐒! ➛ a. keiji ✔

𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟭𝟮 ── 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘴

listen to the song above for a soundtrack! 

tw: description of a panic attack. 

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

keiji let out a melancholic sigh, his sight suddenly turning grey. he hadn't meant to hurt his manager, and he certainly hadn't meant to ruin his career. now, without ichika and the writer, the man would be alone for good. he had already turned things sour with his friend merely days ago, and now it was watanabe-san's turn. he hoped she would try and understand him, but that hope was far too much for him to expect from the woman. he had done enough to wound everyone.

in a matter of minutes, bokuto stormed into the apartment like it was his all over again. akaashi hadn't expected him to come over, and he wondered what in heaven's name could it be that made his friend stomp his way to him. oh, okay. remembering his pseudo-fight with ichika, he now had a slight notion of what might have happened to anger his ex-roommate so much. he sighed, ready for another relationship to be ruined.

"akaashi, why is ichika upset and why did she say you were an asshole?" to keiji's surprise, bokuto's tone certainly didn't match his body language. the entirety of his facial expression screamed "i want to punch you, but i'm holding myself back from murdering my best friend", but his voice was the most collected he could muster. akaashi knew that what he was about to say would vex the grey-haired man even more, and it could mean they would be friends no longer. nevertheless, he had to say it. the words ached in his throat, his breath hissing in between his teeth, hoping to set free his indignation with all this. he had tried to make amends, after all. then why did everybody suddenly hate him?

"she did? wow, she really must be a bitch to say that-"

the musician was quickly interrupted by a now furious bokuto koutarou. "shut up. okay? shut the fuck up. i've been dealing with your bullshit for too long. you can be a narcissistic prick all you want, just not to my girlfriend. understood?" narcissistic prick? when was i ever that? akaashi thought, not a single clue in his head. i was trying to make everything better! what's wrong with that?

his mind ran amok around the situation, turning his heart into a berserk animal inside a cage. he couldn't deal with that. he couldn't deal with the exasperation of being friendless. he couldn't deal with not being able to count with bokuto for any longer. heavy breaths left his mouth, his lungs collapsing like a building going through its demolition. thinning, and thinning, and thinning, the raven-haired man wouldn't be able to breathe for much longer. lightheaded, he barely noticed when salty tears pricked his eyes, his vision already foggy from the dissociation. he didn't notice the tears, nor did he notice his friend had already left.

he had to make this right. he had to fix everything. but now, he had to do it by himself. this whole matter was thrusted into his frail musician hands by the greater hand of fate, and the vulture he saw once when he couldn't write his music swept past him another time, weeping tears of despair. oh, yes, akaashi realized, his right hand touching the side of his cheek, these are my own tears. he opened the chat, knowing that what he had to do would hurt him even further.

from: @akaashikeiji

i won't be able to be at the mall because of personal issues. i hope you understand.

sent from tokyo, japan

now, all there was left to do was wait. and so he did.

◦'𖥸'◦

on the other hand, [y/n] wanted nothing to do with the musician. not even sending him lyrics — for that would be considered the highest amount of effort from the writer. sending him lyrics, ha! [y/n] scoffed, as if. in fact, i will block him from all social media. i don't want to see him. at all. [y/n]'s objective was to ease off the raven-haired man's attempts of trying to see them, but then why did this doubt scratch their brain like so?