Believer

2

Akaashi felt a tap on his shoulder. He jumped slightly but soon relaxed, paused his recorded lecture, and turned from his computer to face his mother. She smiled softly, angling herself so he could see better. 

She both mouthed the words as well as signed them with JSL. "When you're done with the lesson, can you go grab the mail and take the trash out?" 

Akaashi nodded and signed that he would. 

"Thanks 'Kaashi. I'm going to start dinner now." She responded. 

Plastering a smile on his face, Akaashi turned back to finish up his lecture. 

After a few minutes, he was done with his notes and recording, so he closed his computer and put his notebook on top of it. He got up, leaning backwards and stretching out his arms and back. He had been sitting in a couple classes for the past few hours. It felt good to get up right about now. 

Slowly, Akaashi made his way to the door. He took a moment to grab his shoes that were located by the door. Then he presumed to slip them on and unlock the wooden door. 

As soon as he felt the soft breeze of fall on his skin, he sighed. He loved the outdoors. 

In short increments of time. 

Mosquitoes just loved to bite him and he hated dealing with their itchy presence. So that meant he didn't go outside for very long. 

But he did appreciate the fresh air entering his lungs. Especially after working tirelessly on his classes. 

Slowly, he closed the front door and began his trek to the small mailbox in front of his home. 

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

Bokuto had arrived at his house after just leaving a practice volleyball match. He was sweaty and physically tired, but he could feel a creative spurt coming on. His fingers twitched on the steering wheel, itching to just go home and sit down in front of his precious piano. 

Slowly, he found himself parking in front of his house. He took his keys out of the ignition and proceeded to walk to the other side to obtain his backpacks. One was for a volleyball change and gear, while the other was strictly for classes. 

After picking them both up, he lifted his leg to kick the small car door shut. He had obtained a small, white hand-me-down car for his birthday two years ago. While sometimes it randomly decided to change channels on the radio, it was otherwise in great condition considering its age. 

Heck, even the car mechanic sometimes looked at the small slab of machine with amusement every time it went in for new tires. 

It was funny watching everyone make bets on when the car would finally break down for good. Until then, Bokuto was going to continue to use the car. 

Afterall, it was his mother's, before she had died. She had previously had stage four breast cancer and eventually she got too sick to fight on. Bokuto had gotten her eyes as well as her love for piano. His father was supportive and was a major factor in pushing his son to enjoy life to the fullest. 

….As long as his grades were good. 

Bokuto's father wasn't necessarily strict, but he did believe Bokuto was smarter than what he showed. And he was right. When it came to school, Bokuto got bored easily and then he would stub up and refuse to do work. 

He swung his backpack so that it hung on his back, while the other, lighter one he carried via left hand. He would unlock the front door with his right. Turning his head, he spots his neighbor--who had mentally coined Artist Boy--looking through papers that seemed to be mail. He was content at scanning the small envelopes as he walked back towards his house. 

Suddenly, not as tired and feeling a boost of extroverted excitement, Bokuto perked up. 

"Hey hey hey! How's your day going?" He spoke loud and clear with an excited tone. His friendly smile lit up his face, making his dimples ever so present. 

He had been hoping for the day he could say hi or speak to the artist next door. He was curious about the quiet, hermit neighbor. Bokuto couldn't help but find the black haired teen next door cool, afterall being able to physically make art with only a pencil was fascinating. 

But his smile dropped slightly when he noticed the teen didn't even flinch or otherwise acknowledge Bokuto's genuine greeting. 

The black haired teen simply kept on walking, shifting through mail until he reached the doorsteps and entered the safe haven of his home. 

Bokuto felt a sense of sadness in his chest. He wasn't expecting to not have a reply, and he really wasn't expecting for the lack of reply to be so painful. He could feel his shoulders drop and hair flatten ever so slightly. It was as if he felt a physical loss at not being able to talk to the neighbor. 

Did he not hear me? He questioned himself. 

Slowly he walked forward, towards his own porch. His keys jingled as he sulked up the steps. 

I dunno…I said it pretty loud. Did he just ignore me then?