Believer

8

By dinner time, Akaashi was practically yanked from his room to enjoy a "family dinner." Even though a third of the family was gone at the moment, Akaashi refrained from speaking up on the topic and picking a fight. 

Tonight's meal was katsudon, one of the older recipes his mom kept changing for kicks and giggles. 

Today, the meal was edible and that was all Akaashi could ask for in a dinner. 

The night was silent, not a peep in the air. 

But that could also be due to the sensorineural deafness. 

Akaashi almost chuckled at his own joke but quickly sobered when he saw his mother signing at him. "What is on your wrist?" 

Gulping his bite of katsudon, he bashfully looked down at his left wrist and gazed at the numbers. 

"A phone number." He signed, hesitant at first. He looked down at his meal, not daring to make eye contact with his mother. He picked at his food with his utensil. 

Akaashi finds himself almost flinching back when he sees an intense movement from the edge of his vision. Startled, he looked up. 

"From who? Akaashi, did you make a friend? Sneak out? I never saw you leave the house. When did this happen? Akaashi I must meet this person!" Went her rapid signing, mouth moving along with the words. She seemed to be excited yet had a tinge of confusion. 

Once she finished asking questions, she sat there, expectantly looking at her son for answers. 

His fingers shook as he brought them up to answer. "Previously he had tried to talk to me, but I couldn't read his lips and I got anxious, so I greeted and left. Then yesterday I found out he had learned JSL and we communicated enough for him to give me his number…" 

Akia nodded, remembering the incident from a few days ago. Then she lit up again. "What's his name? Have you texted him? Invite him over one day, I want to meet your new friend!" 

Blushing in embarrassment at the barrage of questions, Akaashi pressed his lips into a line. 

"His name is Bokuto…No, I haven't texted him yet." He rubbed the back of his hair bashfully. 

He probably should have texted him earlier…

In hindsight, Bokuto probably thought Akaashi was a jerk and ghosted him… 

"And why not?" Akia prodded, curious yet pointed. 

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

Bokuto had immediately put his phone's ringtone and notifications on full volume. He was jumpy, excited and overall feeling astronomically better than this morning. 

But then again, Akaashi hadn't texted yet. And that bummed the duel haired teen out, because he was really looking forward to making another friend. 

Bokuto prided himself on making friends and meeting new people. He found the concept both thrilling and freeing at the same time. That being said, it really hurts when the people he takes time to befriend turn around and drop or ignore him. 

Currently he was at the dinner table, phone on the counter opposite of the table. 

His parents had ensured that meal time was sacred and no interruptions were accepted. It was more of his mother's idea, but his dad had maintained the "ritual." 

As they ate, his father couldn't help but notice Bokuto's glances towards the silent phone. 

"What's all that about?" He asked. 

Bokuto startled, not expecting his father to say something. "What's what about?" Came his intelligent reply. 

"You can't fool me boy. Why are you glancing at your phone so much?" While humor laced his voice, he also spoke with a bit of seriousness. 

Bokuto shivered, knowing his father wouldn't take kindly to any form of lying. 

"You know the neighbor we talked about? The one who doesn't verbally answer?" He whispers, somewhat hoping his father doesn't hear. 

"Yeah, what about him?" His light eyebrow rose as he quirked his head ever so softly in question. 

"Well I started learning a bit of JSL so then we were able to communicate enough so I could give him my number. He hasn't texted though…" Bokuto said, casting one more longing glance towards the phone. 

"Ah." Was the only reply. 

The conversation dwindled and the two finished their meals in silence. Bokuto's leg was bouncing as he sat, then he became even more antsy when he cleaned the dishes. The stray glances he gave to his phone were distracting him. 

But he almost let out an audible gasp when he saw he got a message. 

"Just go." His father said, holding the bridge of his nose and shaking his head as if he had a headache. He was exasperated. 

Bokuto snatched his phone before running to his room and practically slamming the door.