Akaashi made his way to the hospital for the umpteenth time that week, his hands in his jacket pockets and his nose burying into the burgundy knit scarf that protected him from the chilly weather.
It had been two months since Bokuto's visit over his home, and ever since then, Akaashi found that making his way to the hospital had become a daily routine for him. And even if he didn't show up, he would still spend his days sending messages to Bokuto, be it text, email, or the occasional video chat.
He exhaled through his nose and entered the hospital, greeted the woman at the front desk (who now knew him by name), and removed the scarf from around his neck. Akaashi already knew where he had to go.
He ascended those familiar steps, said hello to the familiar faces, and rounded that familiar corner that he knew would lead him to Bokuto's room. Another breath escaped him, slow and casual, but he'd soon learned to hold his breath when he noticed another person sitting outside in the hall, several feet from the room, where visitors could spend their time.
Akaashi eyeballed the small male for a long second, knowing that he wouldn't look up to catch him. His head hung low, and his attention belonged only to the handheld system that entertained him.
Normally, Akaashi would have walked away that instant in order to pay Bokuto a visit, but as he neared his room, he could hear two voices coming from within. One of the voices belonged to Bokuto. The other, he had no clue. Akaashi paused and gripped the strap of his bag. Hesitating, he turned, pivoting on one foot to stare back at the small one who sat by his lonesome. Feeling that it would be rude to interrupt Bokuto's conversation with whoever the other person was, Akaashi strode over to the seats and sat one chair away from the gaming stranger.
Akaashi tapped his fingers quietly against his pants.
"... Are you here to see Bokuto Koutarou?" Akaashi's asked in a leveled tone.
"No. My friend is." The other spoke in a quiet voice, low and brooding. Or maybe not brooding, but more along the lines of apathetic.
Apathy-kun. The nickname popped into Akaashi's head for a brief second. He wasn't too sure why.
"Is your friend a friend of Bokuto's?"
"Yeah. An old friend." He pressed pause on his PSP and tapped one end of it against his open palm. "They used to play volleyball together. They go back a couple of years."
Akaashi leaned back in his seat. "Ah. I see." He felt the need to keep most of his questions at bay. His company did not seem like the type to socialize so openly, so he figured simple inquiries would do just fine, especially if he kept them to a minimum.
"May I ask your name?" Akaashi took a shot at it.
A small thumb rubbed at the system's screen to remove a smudge. He looked up, gazed at Akaashi past his bleached blonde bangs, and straightened his back in the slightest way possible.
"Kozume Kenma."
"Akaashi Keiji." He felt like he could enjoy Kozume's company, what with how his words lacked all form of emotion. "It's nice to meet you, Kozume."
"Kenma is fine." He looked back down at the game screen. "Likewise."
Akaashi nodded, glad to have made an acquaintance, and would have relaxed into his seat if not for the sudden disembodied voice that startled him soon after Kenma's sentence.
"Hey, Kenma, who are you talking to?" As if straight from a cartoon, out popped a tall male from Bokuto's room, with stark black hair that both hung over his face and stuck out in all directions. He carried a look on his face that made him seem more sinister than sincere, and his eyes flitted from Kenma to Akaashi, and then back to Kenma.
