Believer

3

It had been a week since the incident, and Bokuto was still pouting. His creative spurt was ruined and he couldn't even bring himself to practice piano. His father had taken notice of his son's saddened state. 

Bokuto has highly sensitive emotions, which can lead to short term mood swings. But usually those don't last days on end. After a long mental battle, Isamu, Bokuto's dad, decided that his son needed time to think. 

Isamu was sitting alone in front of the television, flipping through channels aimlessly. A few volleyball tournaments were on, but it felt wrong to watch them without his son. 

He heard a couple loud steps before turning his head from the television. Bokuto was standing in the doorway to the light green living room. His feet were bare, hair messy, pajama pants backwards, and fingers covered with bandaids. Isamu sighed, scooted over on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Bokuto quietly follows command as Isamu mutes the television. 

 "Would you like to vent or get advice?" Isamu started off. It was a question his wife always asked when something was upsetting him. After years of marriage, he had picked it up and found the phrase endearing and helpful. 

Bokuto picked at a bandaid on his finger, eyes glancing around the room, looking for a place to settle on so he doesn't have to make eye contact. 

"I guess I want to…vent. But I'm open to your thoughts on the event as well." Bokuto admitted. He just couldn't understand what happened. And he couldn't understand how one small event had affected him so much. 

"Okay, I'll do my best." Isamu offered a small smile as he patiently turned toward his son, waiting for him to begin. 

Bokuto finally made eye contact, giving his father a small, watery smile before starting to explain the events. 

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

Akaashi had noticed that the duel-haired pianist hadn't played for a long time. Akaashi didn't know how to feel. He liked to watch the passionate musician play, but at the same time he knew it wasn't something he had a say in. 

Heck, he probably shouldn't even be watching a complete stranger through their window. 

After thinking about his actions for a moment, he began to feel bad. He had given his neighbor no privacy when deciding to watch him play through the glass. The passion seemed intense and the emotions seemed personal. Now Akaashi felt as if he had been seeing something sacred when observing the teen. 

He felt as if he had done something wrong. 

And now the lack of music playing was a sort of karma. 

Feeling worse about his previous actions, yet not knowing what to do about it, Akaashi closes his curtains and moves to his canvas. To get his mind off the heavy sense of doing something inconsiderate, he decided to drown himself in another unfinished painting. 

It was hard to focus, but he pushed through anyway. 

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

"I'm not sure if he ignored you…" Bokuto's father began, attempting to speak cautiously to avoid confusion and not sound brash. He was genuinely trying to help his son make sense of the small run in with the neighbors. "If he didn't react to your voice at all, there might be a chance he can't hear well or at all. I don't think we should assume that based off of one interaction though. Maybe he just had a bad day, was too into his task, or had earbuds in…A bunch of things could have had him not hear your voice." He reasoned, hoping he didn't sound rude or assuming. 

Bokuto nodded along. "Yeah, that makes more sense." He said, seemingly thinking hard on the events. "I couldn't see him well enough to see if he had headphones in…" 

Nodding, Isamu gave his son a back pat. Bokuto turned to his father and thanked him. The familial voice of reason was always able to aid him when he needed it most. 

"No worries, kiddo. Wanna watch a volleyball game? There's plenty on right now." 

Bokuto started to let a grin overtake his face. He seemed better since they talked. Isamu was glad he could help. 

"Awesome!" 

At that, Isamu handed his son the remote, so he could choose a specific team he wanted to watch. 

Together the two sat on the couch, relaxing.