Love Me Harder // MatsuHana.

two

The day passed in a blur of classes, half-hearted note-taking, and the occasional shared glance between Hanamaki and Matsukawa during the more boring lessons. It was the kind of routine they'd grown used to—counting down the minutes until they could head to practice. Hanamaki barely paid attention as the math teacher droned on about equations he didn’t care to understand, his mind drifting to volleyball instead.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Hanamaki shot up from his seat, eager to leave the classroom behind. As he packed his things, he felt a familiar presence appear next to him.

"Ready to get destroyed by Iwaizumi?" Matsukawa asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Hanamaki groaned but couldn’t help grinning. "As if I have a choice. Let’s go before he comes looking for us."

They made their way to the gym, where the volleyball team was already gathering. Iwaizumi was there, as expected, looking as serious as ever while Oikawa stood nearby, juggling a volleyball between his hands and chatting animatedly with a few of the other players. As soon as they stepped into the gym, Oikawa’s eyes zeroed in on them.

"Ah, Matsun! Makki! You’re late!" Oikawa called out, though his tone was more playful than accusing.

"We’re literally two minutes late," Hanamaki shot back, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, excuses," Oikawa replied with a dramatic wave of his hand. "Just make sure you’re ready for practice. We’ve got a tournament to win, remember?"

Iwaizumi, who had been observing the exchange with a look of quiet amusement, stepped forward. "Alright, enough chatting. Let’s get started."

Practice began, and as always, the atmosphere in the gym shifted into something more intense. Hanamaki could feel the pressure mounting with the tournament looming closer, but he was used to it by now. He thrived on it, in fact. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the thud of the ball hitting the ground, and the shouts of encouragement echoed through the gym as the team moved through their drills.

Matsukawa was on point today, as usual, blocking with precision and delivering those quick, teasing smirks across the court whenever he made a good play. Hanamaki, on the other hand, was focused on perfecting his serve receives and spiking whenever he had the chance. They both worked like a well-oiled machine, feeding off each other’s energy.

During a break, Hanamaki grabbed a towel and plopped down on the bench next to Matsukawa, who was catching his breath beside him.

"You know," Matsukawa said between breaths, "Oikawa and Iwaizumi weren’t looking too bad today. Think they’ve been practicing on their own?"

Hanamaki snorted. "They probably spend more time arguing than practicing."

"Maybe, but you’ve got to admit, they’re starting to act like an old married couple."

"Starting?" Hanamaki raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure they’ve been like that since middle school."

They both laughed, but their attention was soon pulled back to the court as Iwaizumi called for them to get back into the game. The rest of practice went by in a whirlwind of drills and mock matches. By the time it was over, everyone was drenched in sweat and ready to collapse.

As they wrapped things up, Oikawa, ever the drama queen, threw himself onto the floor dramatically. "I’m dying," he groaned. "Why must volleyball be so hard?"

"Because you’re not that good," Iwaizumi shot back, earning a collective round of laughter from the team.

Matsukawa, wiping the sweat off his brow, glanced at Hanamaki with that ever-present grin. "Think we should help Oikawa with his ego?"

Hanamaki chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, let him suffer. Maybe it’ll teach him some humility."

After cleaning up and changing back into their uniforms, Hanamaki and Matsukawa headed out of the gym together, just like they had that morning. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as they walked, talking about the day’s practice and what they could improve before the tournament.

"Do you think we’ll make it to nationals this year?" Hanamaki asked, more to himself than to Matsukawa.

Matsukawa shrugged, but there was a confidence in his voice that Hanamaki always found reassuring. "We’ve got the skill, the team’s in good shape, and Oikawa’s motivated, so yeah. I think we’ve got a real shot."

"Yeah, you’re probably right," Hanamaki said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It’d be nice to go out with a bang, huh? Last year and all."

Matsukawa gave him a sideways glance, something unspoken passing between them. "Last year, sure. But that doesn’t mean we’re done yet. We’ll have plenty more to deal with before this is over."

Hanamaki nodded, the weight of their words sinking in. High school was ending soon, and while they had plenty of memories left to make, there was something about this year that felt like it mattered more. Maybe it was the looming tournament, maybe it was the end of an era, or maybe it was just the realization that they wouldn’t have these moments forever.

As they parted ways at the school gates, Matsukawa clapped Hanamaki on the back. "See you tomorrow, Makki."

"Yeah, see you, Matsun."

And just like that, another day ended, blending into the stream of memories they were making together. But something about it lingered, like the feeling that even though things were changing, some things—like their friendship—never would.