Believer

23

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Bokuto asked, twisting his fingers as he avoided Akia’s gaze. 

She gave a soft chuckle. “Bokuto, he is fineee.” She waved off his concern. “He has a relatively weak immune system, but he just has an Adenovirus. He isn’t contagious anymore. And he should be better soon.” 

Bokuto let out a sigh of relief. It had been a few days since the first band meeting. After he had taken Akaashi home, he had stayed for a bit longer, wanting to help. He had stood in the livingroom as Akia and Yuto fussing over their only child. He was there when Akia found out Akaashi had begun to have a fever. 

“He’s been complaining of being bored. I can go ask if he would mind a visitor?” She asked, a small smile on her face. After seeing her son making friends, enjoying life, and becoming friends with such caring people, she felt happiness pulse through her heart. Seeing her family all together again, as well as happier as a whole, she felt a weight rip off her shoulders. 

Seeing how Bokuto perked up at the mention of visiting Akaashi, she nodded politely. “Why don’t you come inside? Help yourself to the pantry while I ask.” She opened the door wider before turning on her heel and walking up the staircase. When she had almost reached the top, she heard the front door gently shut. But the time she reached her son’s bedroom, she saw the door slightly cracked, a signal that Akaashi was resting and open for family visitors. Akia popped her head in, pressing a small smile on her face. 

Akaashi was sitting on his bed, propped up by pillows and surrounded by blankets to keep him warm. His face was somewhat flushed, even though his fan was on and spinning wildly. Upon her entrance, Akaashi turned to look at his mother, eyes half-lidded. 

“Hey.” She began. 

“What’s up?” Akaashi signed after a few moments of removing his arms from the blanket and pausing whatever video he had been watching previously. 

“Do you feel up for visitors?” She asked, cutting to the chase. 

Akaashi raised an eyebrow lazily, as if asking the question of “who?”

“Bokuto is here.”

Akaashi almost jerked out from under his blanket pile. He opened his mouth before closing it and nodding. A smile slowly slid onto his face as he thought of his friend--his first physical friend since childhood. Akia saw the change but waited until Akaashi looked back at her with determination and a small bit of excitement within his tired eyes. 

He had been extremely tired, mostly sleeping. His hands itched to sketch but he just couldn’t physically bring himself to get up and snatch a sketchbook.

“Do you want him to come up? Are you ready?” She signed slowly. 

Akaashi nodded, eyes blank with sheer exhaustion. Akia gave him a small smile before leaving. 

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

Bokuto knocked on the slightly cracked door. After a moment he began to mentally kick himself. Akaashi couldn’t hear if he knocked or not, that was probably why Akia went up first. Nevertheless he took a deep breath, steeling himself before he slowly opened the door. Inside he saw a pile of blankets and a slightly disarrayed room. Projects were strewn around haphazardly and half-finished. Bringing his eyes to the massive pile of what must have been more than ten blankets, Bokuto saw a face peak out. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the visual.

“You burrowed yourself.” He mused. 
Akaashi simply smiled. His mind was fuzzy with sickness, but he nodded along anyways. 

Bokuto walked forward, his steps schooling around the quiet room as he approached the bed while attempting to trapeze over stray projects. He heard Akaashi breathily laugh while watching the volleyball player attempt to not be a clutz. After finally crossing the cluttered floor, Bokuto stood awkwardly by the bed, not having planned what action he would next take. 

Thankfully, Akaashi thought of that first. He carefully lifted his blanket mass and moved over to the other side of the bed, situating himself before looking back up at Bokuto. Silently they made eye contact before Akaashi’s hand slipped out and he patted the seat next to him. 

Bokuto’s face flushed pink as he slid into his seat on the bed. He felt stiff and sore, volleyball practice having ramped up even more as the semester progressed. Not to mention, he didn’t want to make Akaashi uncomfortable. He was thrown out of his thoughts by hands pushing him back against the headboard, pillows cushioning his fall. His eyes widened and mouth gaped slightly. His vision snapped to Akaashi, attempting to figure out why the artist had made the taller teenager relax back. But Akaashi wasn’t looking at him. 

Instead, Akaashi was busy reaching over the bed to grab something. 

A brief nervous spike slammed through Bokuto’s head as he watched Akaashi tip over the edge. Fearing for his fall, Bokuto sat back up, about to help Akaashi. But the black-haired teen jerked upwards, a laptop in hand. 

Bokuto watched as the artist’s bedhead settled from gravity. He was in his own world, completely oblivious to almost giving Bokuto a heart attack. He opened the laptop, signing in. 

Bokuto, the ever curious man, leaned forward in an attempt to peer over the artist’s shoulder. Akaashi stiffened before snapping his head to meet Bokuto’s gaze. His shiny eyes narrowed before pushing Bokuto. The volleyball player, in his shock, let his body fall back to where it was previously. Resting on the backboard of the bed, among a mass of pillows. 

“Stay.” Akaashi signed, eyes narrowed. 

Bokuto watched his friend in slight confusion. He didn't feel uncomfortable, but rather the felt nervous. What was Akaashi wanting to do? But despite his nervousness, he refrained form moving from his spot. 

What felt like moments later, Akaashi finally moved the computer on top of Bokuto’s legs, pressing play. Bokuto’s eyes zoned onto the screen as a new show began playing. He felt a small smile curve the corner of his lips upward. 

A weight settled on his shoulder and lap. A blanket had been thrown on his legs. And Akaashi had laid his head gently upon Bokuto’s shoulders. A sense of happiness coursed through his veins as he let himself get comfy, watching the captioned movie. And if the actors were speaking Dutch, Akaashi didn’t need to know.