Believer

12

Akaashi sighed. He had caved and finally agreed to hangout with Bokuto's friends. His anxiety was skyrocketing as he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was dark outside, the nighttime clouds covering the moon. 

Akaashi was wide awake, his brain not registering that it was an ungodly hour of the morning. He should be sleeping, but his mind was reeling from the idea of meeting new people. 

His body twitched, as if trying to expel his anxious thoughts. 

Bokuto had promised that he would make sure Akaaski was comfortable and not left out. Bokuto was very understanding about the artist feeling like he will be left out due to his deafness. That didn't deter him from practically bribing the teen. 

In exchange for meeting his friends, Bokuto would show Akaashi how to play piano. Or he would just play piano. 

He had noticed that Akaashi loved to glance at the piano whenever he was over. They would be playing video games together in Isamu's living room, and the Artist would continuously glance at the instrument. 

Then again, it was a centerpiece of the room. 

In a noticeable spot. 

Kinda in everyone's face when they enter the room. 

Even after accepting bribery, Akaashi was practically ripping his hair out. The aspect of leaving his comfort zone, specifically by meeting new people who he didn't know, was infuriatingly freaking him out. 

Giving up on sleep, he chooses to slide out of bed. The covers and blanket follow him on his descent to the floor, pooling around his torso. 

He groans, pushing himself off the wooden panels that make up his brown flooring. Then he attempts to quietly move to his desk. His YouTube set up was still intact from when he filmed a video the previous day and had edited it. 

It was a tutorial on perspective drawings. 

He had it ready to post in the next couple of days. But right now he just wanted to take his mind off of life. 

Sighing, he clicks on his desk light and rummages around for a medium size sketchbook. He makes sure the camera is in place before setting up his graphite pencils. 

Tonight, he was going to do a speed paint. 

Tonight, he was going to attempt to not overthink. 

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Bokuto woke up at an ungodly hour of the morning that Friday. He had more than a couple hours until he had to start getting ready for school. Until then, he was free to do anything. His father had either already left for work or was getting ready to do so. 

Isamu was an early bird.

Unlike his father, Bokuto loved to sleep in. 

He stared at the ceiling, listening to the silent neighborhood. No children were roughhousing outside. No birds were chirping, no dogs barking. 

Only the sound of air from the slight wind outside could be heard. 

Well, that and the soft shuffling of people sleepily getting ready for the day. 

Bokuto revelled in the silence for a bit, forcing his mind to go blank for the time being. He let the universe's serenity wash over himself before lurching forward and almost flipping himself off of the bed. 

I really want to play. 

His bandaged fingers twitched at the idea of playing piano. The silence had given him an internal melody he thrived to play. 

As quietly as he could manage, he swung his legs off the bed and practically ran down to the living room--the setting of his glorious piano. 

The green room seemed dim compared to the piano. The instrument almost had a halo from the opposing window's light cascading into the small home. 

A couple beeps were heard from the kitchen. Isamu was getting his Anti-Murder coffee for the day. 

But Bokuto didn't hear the sounds, eyes, body, and mind too focused on getting to the instrument before him. He scrambled forward, eyes wide as he slid into the bench and lifted up the Piano's top. In a daze, he gently ran his fingers over the white keys before doing the same to the black ones. 

In all his years of practice, nothing could compare to the feeling of the piano. His mother had started the tradition of running her fingers silently over the keys before playing. She had always said to "respect the instrument." She had an almost spiritual understanding of music that the instrument made. The same understanding got passed down to Bokuto. 

He happily continued the tradition. He almost understood the piano more than his mother once did. 

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, listened to the soft wind hitting the side of the house, and pressed the first note. 

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Akaashi had finished three speed-paints/drawings, two small books, and had successfully set up a DTIYS--Draw This In Your Style. He even had a few people who had already replied and added onto the art chain. 

It was almost five in the morning and his eyes were burning. He had switched to his glasses to cut down on the stress he put his eyes through. Nonetheless it hadn't helped much. A small headache was forming, pulsing through his temples. He turned to Ibuprofen to help. Then he decided to pick up a crossword book and head towards his comfy rolly chair. 

By six in the morning, he was beyond zombied. He felt drowsy yet restless after pulling the all-nighter. Finally, feeling as if he couldn't focus on anything any longer, he pushed off the nearest wall and rolled towards the window. 

He opened it, opting to get fresh air and look at the world around him for a bit. 

The wind smelled crisp. Fresh. Natural. 

He looked down to a few trees between him and the house next door--Bokuto's home. A nest had been assembled and a bird sat in it. Akaashi could spot another bird making its way towards the first. They seemed friendly with one another. 

Akaashi imagined what sounds the birds would make. He smiled softly to himself, head resting on his hand. 

The sky was still dark in some areas, but it was lightning quick as the sun began to erupt from the horizon. 

He felt guilty as his eyes traveled down to Bokuto's living room window. He had tried not to stare at the piano through the window because his conscience had deemed it a breach of privacy. However his eyes couldn't help but sometimes stray out of curiosity. 

He was pleasantly surprised to see the pianist playing, swaying to the music he created. 

Akaashi smiled a little more, blissfully watching the passion of which his neighbor played. 

He didn't have to be able to hear in order to know Bokuto created another masterpiece.