Believer

25

Over the next couple of months, the group became impossibly closer as a whole. They had begun learning a surplus of songs and even made up a couple, though the latter took longer to do. 

The group often met nearly every day after school, but distributed their time between hanging out and practicing. And yet Bokuto often found himself less than optimistic as time went on. As he glanced around movie night he could only count five heads, three of which were sleeping while the other two were still zoned into the action movie. He felt his lips press into a frown as he recollected the times Akaashi had bailed on hang out sessions. 

In fact, Bokuto felt as if he hadn't been able to see Akaashi as much anymore. And when he did, it was around the rest of the group as well. Outside of practices, the artist was hardly anywhere to be seen. 

Bokuto slowly rose to his feet, attempting to make as little noise as possible as he made his way to the living room window. He completely bypassed the piano, giving it minimal thought. 

Glancing through the crack in the curtains, Bokuto took notice of the light streaming out of his neighbors bedroom window. A soft glow of yellow stuck out like a sore thumb in the night, yet the rest of the house was already asleep. Crickets were chirping outside, adding to the serene feeling of late night magic. 

Bokuto sniffed, feeling his mind reel. He pulled his phone from his back pocket, allowing the harsh artificial light to strike his eyes. He opened his chat where his messages remained unread. 

Bokuto: Akaaaaasshiiiiiiiiiii

Bokuto: you down to come say hi go teh group? Theyre hereeee 

Bokuto: Akaashiiiii

Bokuto: You okay? 

Bokuto: Akaashi?

The pianist sighed, feeling himself deflate. He dropped his arm and put his phone back in his pocket, turning it off. Stealing one more glance at the light coming from Akaashi's room, he turned back to the sounds of his friend's snoring. 

Akaashi would text him later. He usually texts back first thing in the morning after a late night. 

But suddenly the thought seemed rather pitiful. And the pianist felt rather lonely. 

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

Akaashi’s eyes were bloodshot, burning from the late night hours he stayed up and the early mornings he rose from to check his emails. He had created a new email for his job as the band’s manager, but since the group had yet to name themselves, it was hard for Akaashi to set up gigs. He was trying his best though, starting off by contacting local pubs and restaurants. A few had mentioned putting the band on the roster when they decided on a name and had a set of song names they would be playing. 

The sleep deprived teen yawned, sitting back in his chair. It creaked under his shifting weight. He had just finished uploading another speedpaint to his channel, which he felt needed to have more videos and interactions. Throughout the past few months he had been focusing more on the band and their upstarting rather than his own income on his art. Not to mention he felt himself becoming less studious as his outside connections increased. So he began getting back on a schedule, attempting to balance his art, music, and schooling. But it was hard. 

He had never had this problem in previous years, so now he was a bit stressed. He blinked at the blinding light coming from his laptop before closing it. He rubbed his eyes, yawning again. 

Just as he was about to stand up and call it a night--well, more of an early morning--he saw a flash from the corner of his eye. His phone was going off. Sluggishly, his fingers moved towards the device before picking it up. Notifications from Bokuto were the first thing he saw, followed by three missed alarms and a couple messages from Atsumu. He unlocked his phone, opening the messaging app with an artificial click. Reading through his best friend’s messages, his gut clenched. While he had been attempting to progress the band’s debut, he had worried them.