Believer

6

The next weekend, Bokuto was bummed. His team had lost the match. Good thing it was more a practice match and not qualifiers. Either way he was bummed that his spikes didn't seem to land well. Currently he was home, moping around. 

"Stop digging a hole in the wood! You're gonna dent it with your pacing." Yelled his father from downstairs. 

Bokuto groaned loudly. He physically felt like he could not sit still nor be creative. Right now, the most pressing thing on his mind was how to improve volleyball because right now he feels like he keeps letting the team down. 

"Go outside if you're not gonna stop!" The voice of his dad came again. 

Bokuto rolled his eyes before heading out to the back porch. Since the houses on this side of the neighborhood were on a hill, their houses were on a slant. That meant that they had a basement and their porch was technically off the ground. The wooden area had steps so that they could easily have access to the grassy yard below. 

He closed the screen door behind him, accidentally slamming it louder than intended, causing him to flinch. 

Not missing a beat, he resumed his thoughtful pacing around the porch. 

A few minutes of brainstorming ways to become a better spiker later, Bokuto's quads ached with the soreness of pacing for long periods of time. It was a welcome feeling, much like the bandages hiding the mauled skin of his fingers. Pain always cleared his mind. 

Suddenly a soft clicking sound caught the distracted teen's attention. He immediately stopped walking and began looking around. Moments later he caught sight of his neighbor--Painter Boy--sitting in a chair and sketching from the safety of his own porch across the fence. 

Bokuto's curiosity spiked. 

From their distance, Bokuto could make out the black haired teen biting the cap of a pin while looking between his sketchbook and something off in the distance. 

He was probably checking his reference for his sketch. 

Bokuto stood still, watching his neighbor's intense concentration. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Akaashi felt a pair of eyes on him, so he pulled his gaze away from his current drawing. Almost immediately he stiffened as he made eye contact with the same neighbor he looked like a fool in front of the other day. 

He really didn't want to look foolish again. 

Upon eye contact, the neighbor became more animated, waving at the black haired artist. Akaashi nearly inaudibly chuckled as the taller teen almost waved so hard he tripped to the right. 

Neverless, the hyper pianist sprung back up, albeit seeming a bit embarrassed. 

Akaashi could see the neighbor was trying to say something, but even with his 20/20 vision, he couldn't make out the lip movements from that far away. Suddenly, as if remembering something important, the Pianist stopped talking and put one finger up in an attempt to tell Akaashi to wait. 

From then on, it seemed as if the Pianist put himself on factory reset. 

Akaashi, feeling even more awkward at watching the still teen, looked away. He gazed back into the tree closest to him, eyes tracing the branches as he spotted his reference. 

A bird lay sitting on a branch. It was ruffling its feathers originally, but ever since the talking had begun, the bird had started hopping around. 

Please don't fly off. Please don't fly off. Please don't– 

The bird escaped the confinement of leaves and entered the sky, batting its wings as it flew high above even the tallest house in the neighborhood. 

Akaashi felt himself slump forward, disappointed the bird had decided to leave. 

He hasn't been able to finish his sketch of the small animal. 

A movement caught the corner of his eye, causing Akaashi to turn back to his rebooted neighbor. The teen was waving his arms all over the place trying to get Akaashi's attention. 

Why is he doing that? Akaashi thought, assuming the teen was just a persistent weirdo. I won't be able to understand him anyways. 

But before he could roll his eyes and stand up, anxiety nipping at his bones, he saw a familiar hand signal. 

Did he--is that Japanese Sign Language?