Believer

17

Bokuto was in shock. He watched as Akaashi and Isamu spoke to each other from across the dinner table. Akia was smiling pleasantly at the two and translating for Akaashi while also adding in some of her own inputs. 

After Bokuto had explained his mood swings earlier, he was pleasantly surprised to be met with the understanding gaze of Akaashi. Granted, the Artist asked a few questions and Bokuto answered, but he overall stuck around. Nothing changed. And Bokuto was ecstatic. 

They didn't talk about the idea of forming a band, but Bokuto felt that simply knowing Akaashi was truly his friend was enough for him to get out of his funk. 

But instead of Akaashi leaving after they hung out and talked, Isamu invited the teen to stay over for dinner. That led to Akaashi attempting to decline, not wanting to be a burden. 

Eventually the conversation snowballed, leading into a dinner with Akia, Akaashi, and both Bokuto's. Everything was going extremely well, all four were smiling ten minutes into the meal. 

"You sure do know how to cook a fantastic Miso Soup!" Akia exclaimed. Ismau blushed in slight embarrassment as the compliment registered. 

"Thank you! It was a family recipe." He said, continuing the conversation. 

"Oh, that's lovely!" 

The table hadn't been so lively in weeks. For either family. But now the conversation was so light and lovely. The room seemed to be glowing in excitement for the first time in forever. 

Akia got to meet Bokuto and Ismau for the first "official" time, and Isamu was also able to get to know his son's new friend. It was a win win for both parents. 

Plus the teens got a good meal. 

Bokuto looked over to Akaashi, who was smiling softly at his mother. Bokuto found himself grinning from ear to ear. 

Finally everything seemed genuinely happy. 

Akaashi and Bokuto's eyes met. Then they burst into laughter at the other's dopey grin.

Yes, Bokuto wished everyday could be like this. 

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

Bokuto: sooo I've thought more abt creating a band

Akaashi: Yeah? 

Bokuto smiled at the fast reply before typing some more. Currently it was eleven forty-three, and the Akaashi family had left around nine fifty.

Bokuto: I'm willing to give it a try…..

Bokuto: but idk how 

Bokuto: and I want you there too 

Bokuto: if thats not too much to ask of course

Akaashi chuckled to himself as the string of messages became increasingly frantic. 

Akaashi: Yeah, I can help out. Lol.

Bokuto: yAAAAYAYYYY!! 

Bokuto: I'm so EXCITEDDFFFDDDD

Bokuto was grinning ear to ear. Weights felt like they were lifted off his chest. With Akaashi's help, he felt he could do anything. 

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

"Are you sure people are going to come?" Kuroo asked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. 

"Yeah! Akaashi and I have set up posters, made a small social media following and even got advice from other local bands! They gave us pointers and everything! People should be here any minute." Bokuto answered, wringing his hands and picking at the skin near his nails. 

Kuroo sighed, "I dunno, man. Akaashi isn't even here." He shifted in his seat so he could get a better look at Bokuto, who was directly next to him. They were at a table with three seats, with Kuroo on the far left and Bokuto in the middle.

"He will," Bokuto couldn't help but snap at Kuroo. "He helped me set up this room and everything." 

Kuroo looked at his friend oddly before stilling, leaving the room silent. Every few moments the black-haired male would glance at the clock, watching as the second hand ticked around. 

Seconds turned into a minute, which folded up to quite a few. 

Somewhere along the frame of time, Bokuto had begun tapping his foot to a rhythm only he knew. Two of his nails were bloody messes as he picked the skin off. 

Kuroo was on his phone, indulging in a game Kenma had recommended. 

Suddenly the doors burst open, so loudly that Kuroo's phone was sent flying to the flood a few feet away as he almost jumped out of his seat. Bokuto had also jumped at the noise, but relaxed once he saw Akaashi walking towards him, clipboard in hand and bag over his shoulder. The deaf teen found himself sitting next to Bokuto, at the far right of the table. He slid the clipboard over to Bokuto to look at. 

Instead, Bokuto assessed Akaashi's messy appearance. The artist's hair was beyond saving via brush--the rat's nest would most definitely stay sticking out every which way for the foreseeable future. His light brown shirt was slightly wrinkled and crooked, not to mention his face was flushed and he was breathing harder than normal. 

He must have ran or something. 

Bokuto let out a breath of relief before turning his gaze to the clipboard. 

At least Akaashi is here.

His eyes scanned over the document only to find two columns, one with everyone's names and another that was labeled "notes."

He turned back to Akaashi, about to say his thanks, when said teen began signing extremely fast. 

"--printer was slow, I'm sorry for being late." 

Bokuto, barely registering the apology, nodded and rose his hands to sign back. 

"It's okay. Do you–" He had barely been able to finish before Akaashi grabbed his hands in a firm grip. The teen pressed his lips together as he inspected Bokuto's fingers. 

Bokuto gulped as Akaashi sent him a glare before signing, "stay still." 

Then the raven-haired teen turned to his bag and put his hand in. After a few moments, he pulled out a small box. 

It takes Bokuto a moment to realize the box has plasters inside. Bokuto is left in shock as Akaashi leans over, gently takes his hand once more, and begins to apply the bandages on his bloody fingers. 

Once finished, Akaashi then pushes the clipboard to Kuroo so he can take notes on group discussion instead of Bokuto. Kuroo smiles, having curiously witnessed the situation.