Believer

22

Everyone was sitting in a blob formation on the floor. Such formation could in no way be described as an oval, much less a circle. Even so, gaps between individuals were prominent, much due to how spaced out everyone was. Given that some individuals, like Atsumu, Kuroo, and Bokuto were lounging about the floor, such space was needed in order to avoid flailing limbs. 

Overall, the music store was quite spacious. The main colors within the decor included black with red and purple accents. Currently, they were in a large practice room off to the side of the main section of the building, right past all the music booklets. When everyone had first arrived, Atsumu and Osamu had given everyone a tour which included all the various sections instruments were divided into--a couple examples being percussion, brass, and wind. The twins’ favorite part of the tour was introducing the employee break room since it held a fridge and small cabinet of snacks that workers could munch on. Apparently their aunt had a love for food--as displayed on the furthest wall with her masters degree of culinary arts. 

Akaashi nudged Bokuto with his foot, telling the teen to start reading the group questions once everyone finished their first round of chit chat. 

“Okay, everyone listen up!” Bokuto called out. “Akaashi, our manager, has some questions written out for us to answer so a) we could get to know each other and b) so he can get to know you all better. I’ll be reading off the questions, but when you answer, raise your hand for a few seconds so Akaashi can know who to lip read, okay? Okay!” Bokuto cheered, turning to Akaashi and nodding, before reaching forward and unfolding the question sheet. “What got everyone into music?” 

Atsumu, who had Osamu laying on top of him, raised his hand as high as he could manage, before speaking. “As ye can tell, our aunt owns this place, so we’ve been ‘round.” His words then get cut off because Osamu shifted from his seat on top of Atsumu’s back. Such movement caused the blonde’s airways to be hindered slightly. It took quite a few moments for the twin to attempt to push off his lazy bother. 

Ignoring the brawl, Kuroo spoke up. “I just liked the idea of playing guitar, so I just started one day. But the reason Kenma got into music was because he and I made a bet, and he lost.” A smug smile tugged on the taller’s lips. He looked over to his left where the gamer was seated. 

“I hate you.” Was the monotone response. The setter hadn’t been looked up from his phone the whole conversation. Kuroo rolled his eyes. The chemist had managed to eventually wrangle Kenma’s DS out of his hands and hid it away, only for the setter to continue his level on his phone. And now the short teen was extremely unhappy with his childhood friend. 

“Oh! What was the bet, Kenma?” Hinata asked, invested in the small story. And of course, Kenma lifted his eyes to look at the ginger spiker. 

The gamer, unbeknownst to Hinata, paused his game to answer the question. Kuroo saw this and pursed his lips, slightly miffed at Chibi for getting Kenma’s undivided attention while the Nekoma leader had to fight for it on the daily. “Oh, it was nothing.” 

“But Kenmaaaaa!” Whined the short spiker, head lolling backwards for dramatic effect. 

A soft, unnoticeable smile played on the shorter’s lips as he looked down at his paused game. “Kuroo and I were kids and he said he could beat me at a game of chess.” 

“And I did!” Kuroo announced loudly, arms crossed and chest puffed out, showcasing how proud he was of winning many years ago. 

Hinata gasped and Kenma shot Kuroo a glare. “That was when I didn’t know how to play, and you kept changing the rules so that you would win no matter the outcome.” 

It was as if Kenma’s words were like a needle to a filled balloon. Kuroo visibly deflated. 

Meanwhile, Bokuto was laughing while attempting to sign the conversation to Akaashi so that the deaf teen could understand what was happening. The group of three that were enveloped in conversation had forgotten the artist needed to lip read at a reasonable rate. It was a good thing that Bokuto was becoming increasingly proficient in sign language, his nimble fingers smoothly fingerspelling while throwing in the multiple signs he knew. Akaashi was content reading his best friend’s signs to communicate, though he did feel a slight internal bitterness at being deaf. Needing someone to almost constantly sign to him made him feel like a hassle. 

Hinata’s laughter towards Kenma and Kuroo provided ample enough time to catch the artist up. And with a small nod and smile, he turned back towards the group.

Through translations and lip-reading, Akaashi learned a lot about the group. Like how Atsumu and Osamu had started a competition regarding who could play the most instruments the fastest. Osamu was winning, much to Atsumu's dismay. 

 He also learned that Kenma could not only sing, but play the oboe, which might come in handy at a later date. 

Hinata had spoken up about getting the cops called on his house--a noise complaint from where he had "jammed out" a little too loudly. He rushed to explain that his mother and siblings were away on a business trip together and he had been left to watch the house. What he failed to mention, until Kenma inferred, was that he also stayed home because of a local volleyball tournament he was dead set on watching. 

The redhead had drowned in his own blush, embarrassment flooding his face.

Akaashi smiled at the group, though his eyes were slowly becoming droopy as time pursued. His vision was starting to blur ever so slightly as his brain stopped focusing on the environment around him. He could feel himself nodding off even as Bokuto calmly spoke of a story. 

Bokuto slightly stiffened when he felt a weight light press on his shoulders. His story paused as he stumbled through finishing his sentence. Failing, he just turned his head out the side to look at Akaashi concerned. Vaguely, he could hear Osamu and Atsumu fighting each other and Kuroo cheering them on. He looked at the tired eyes and nearly kicked himself. In all his inner turmoil, he had failed to notice how exhausted Akaashi looked. Dark bags encompassed his eyes. Akaashi also seemed paler than usual. Slowly Bokuto shifted, careful to not make Akaashi tip over, but Akaashi wasn’t in a deep sleep yet. 

Akaashi took a deep inhale, before opening his eyes just enough so that he could look through his eyelashes at Bokuto. He gave a soft, nearly inaudible grumble, before sitting up. 

Bokuto took note of how Akaashi seemed as if he was going to pass out. A frown pressed on his face as he watched the artist sway.

Bokuto stood up, pushing off the ground. “‘Aka and I are gonna go.” He told the group, eyes not leaving his still sitting counterpart.

“Yeah, it is getting late. I don’t want to bike home in the dark.” Came a nervous voice. 

“I can drive you home, Shoyo.” Kenma mumbled, monotonous. 

Kuroo scoffed, with mock offense

But Bokuto didn’t listen to them, instead he looped his arms under Akaashi’s shoulders and practically picked up his friends by the underarms. Akaashi was fairly light, and when coupled with Bokuto’s tendency to work out quite often, the movement was fairly easy. Akaashi gave a small grumble, mumbling how he could have gotten up by himself. 

Chuckling slightly, Bokuto replied. “Yeah. I’m sure you could.”