Bokuto is Very Loud and he knows it.
He's never been insecure about it, just like he's never really been insecure about his bright blue hearing aids with the owl stickers on them.
(He refuses to take them off - even when they begin curling at the ends and really need to be replaced - because they're not childish, mom, they're owls!)
Akaashi is Very Quiet.
At first, this creates some friction when it comes to communicating within their little volleyball family - until Akaashi learns to not only speak up more, but also how to sign. When Akaashi asks him what his sign name is one day, Bokuto grins so hard his cheeks hurt and he proudly answers him with excited, flailing hands... to which Akaashi replies -
"Good afternoon, Bokuto."
- in sign language.
Akaashi has to wiggle out of his arms when he tackle hugs him and nearly sends them both sprawling, and he also has to tell Bokuto to slow down when he begins enthusiastically signing at him because he is only just learning.
Bokuto learns, too. He learns the art of being patient
(It's terrible.)
The team has long since used signs for plays and to talk to Bokuto on the court when everything around them is so loud and all Bokuto hears is a mess of static and roaring - but none of them actually ever learned sign language.
His language.
Bokuto's language.
Akaashi does.
Bokuto thinks he loves Akaashi for it. Maybe just a little
(Or a lot.)
Bokuto understands well enough with his hearing aids, so long as the person's facing him. He reads lips, mostly, and since he can't exactly carry a mirror around to read his own, he talks Very, Very Loudly just to hear himself.
This is why the team has not learned sign language, and Bokuto has never been resentful of it or really cared.
But then Akaashi learns and things seem better, somehow. Brighter.
He suddenly has someone who can use his language, and the moment Akaashi learns enough to hold a conversation, Bokuto lets loose. Sometimes he forgets to talk for the benefit of others around them, just signing away at Akaashi until he politely reminds Bokuto he's talking to someone other than him, as well.
Bokuto is always apologetic (but not really).
(He's too happy to be.)
When Bokuto is sad (which, let's face it, is quite often, just as he is happy quite often; he just Feels A Lot in general quite often), he does not really speak. He may shout in frustration or anguish, but there are times where he sits or stands aside and just looks very small, saying nothing.
Even his signing is small.
His hands stay close to his body, and his hands seem unsure of what they would like to say.
Akaashi doesn't expect him to respond when he gets like this, but he doesn't leave him alone, either. He knows just when to give Bokuto space and for how long, and when to stick by his side.
(Bokuto appreciates it more than he even realizes.)
Bokuto leaves his hearing aids out during practice, and Akaashi does not leave as their other teammates do (Bokuto will practice and practice until he cannot move his arms; they all run in the opposite direction when he excitedly asks if someone will block for him).
Bokuto hears Nothing when he practices, but he feels Everything.
The swing of his arm, the sweat trickling down his face and neck, the way his calves tense before he jumps, the beat of his shoes against the glossy floor.
It's like he's more in tune with himself, and he feels oddly at peace even as he shouts and whoops when he slams down a particularly nice spike.
Bokuto is Very Loud and Akaashi is Very Quiet -
- and yet they have a language between the two of them, Bokuto's language, and it's more than enough.