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This whole situation was problematic in it's entirety. The messy black haired boy with the unceasing stoic expression still hasn't replied to your text sent to him two hours ago.

Now for adults, or people not used to the modern-aged times where everything was extremely fast and efficient for communications, two hours seemed like no big. But for you and the other people comfortably fit in our technology reliant society, two hours was ages.

I mean, you weren't all that needy and obsessive when it came to relationships or just simply people in general, but when it came to a certain setter with captivating green eyes, you just couldn't help it. It's not like you kept sending him like twenty texts or anything — pfft!

It was actually pretty rare to see you in such a need for him to reply back, because usually you were a calm, easygoing, laid-back kind of person (lmao who am i kidding.) But this was an entirely new situation for you, to be honest, because usually it's Bokuto, aka your closest guy friend, who keeps spamming your inbox every minute during the day without any sign of hesitation.

(Y/n): Hey I hear there's gonna be this huge premiere at the movies this friday. Wanna come?

But during that wretched afternoon, contemplating on why he hadn't replied back, especially since you were oh-so excited that he actually gave you his number earlier that day. But in the end, it all boiled down to one inevitable conclusion;

maybe he just wasn't interested.

You inwardly shook your head as you sighed aloud, "Uh-uh, no way. I can't let that happen."

The morning afterwards was a complete and total struggle. Not only was it a troubling Tuesday, but everyone seemed to have such lifeless expressions, even worse than the day before. The dreaded Monday.

And it didn't help that you felt self-conscious since the guy you were currently interested hasn't texted you back after a whole day.

You felt out of control, which was a feeling you truly hated. You had to find sanctuary where you could gather your thoughts and regain your strength. And such a safe haven would be not a 'what' or 'where,' but more like a 'who.' Bokuto Koutarou. The one person that for some reason made it quite easy to spill all your deepest, darkest secrets to in comfort that you knew would never be mentioned to another soul. He might be commonly statused as what you would call a 'blabber mouth,' but he was surprisingly just like writing in a diary or something of the sort.

It didn't take that much time of scoping the hallways to find the tall male with the outrageous haircut. "Oi, Bokuto!"

Almost automatically, his neck craned alarmingly hastily towards the sound of your voice, his face lightening up almost instantly as he waved exuberantly towards you, "Hey, (y/n)! Over here!"

You returned a smile as you speedily walked towards him, "Hey I need to talk to you about he who shall not be named."

Bokuto raised a brow quizzically, "Voldemort?"

You face-palmed, "No, you idiot! I'm talking about your friend!"

Bokuto, almost instantly, picked up what you were putting down, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Ohhhh, I get you. So what about him?"

You hesitated for a second, pulling him over to the side of the hallway where the number of bystanders ceased to be, "Do you.. text him a lot?"

Bokuto shook his head, "Not really, I don't think he likes to text people. I never see him with his phone unless he's calling someone for something important."

You gave a look of defeat, and yet, a look of wistfulness was displayed in your eyes, "Ugh, so if he hasn't texted me back since yesterday, that could mean anything right?"

He lightly, yet sincerely smiled at you as he laid his hand on your shoulder, "Yeah, don't sweat it."

But in that very moment, the device in your back pocket let out a buzzing vibration. Obviously used to what the action indicated, your hand swooped down as your eyes gazed upon the contact name that brought forth your utmost relief.

Akaashi: I'd love to.