Love Me Harder // MatsuHana.

six

The next day at school, things picked up right where they had left off. Matsukawa and Hanamaki met at their usual spot by the school gate, Matsukawa already looking half-asleep despite the fact that it was only morning.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Hanamaki asked as he approached, taking note of Matsukawa’s heavy-lidded eyes.

“Yeah, I was too busy dreaming about you,” Matsukawa replied without missing a beat, yawning as he stretched his arms overhead.

Hanamaki gave him a deadpan look. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re tired.”

“I know,” Matsukawa said, letting out a tired grin.

The walk to class was filled with their usual back-and-forth, with Hanamaki pretending to complain about how Matsukawa couldn’t function without at least two cups of coffee and Matsukawa pretending not to listen, but by the time they reached the classroom, their energy started to sync up. Sitting in the back corner, as always, they sprawled out at their desks, making themselves comfortable while waiting for class to start.

As the teacher began the lesson, Matsukawa leaned over to whisper, “How long do you think it'll take before Iwaizumi cracks and confesses to Oikawa?”

Hanamaki stifled a laugh. “I’m giving it two weeks. Maximum.”

Matsukawa grinned. “I’m betting by the end of the week. He’s been staring at Oikawa like a lovesick puppy during practice.”

“Iwaizumi would kill you if he heard you say that,” Hanamaki whispered back, smirking.

“Worth it,” Matsukawa replied, glancing back at Iwaizumi across the room, who was completely oblivious to the teasing as he scribbled notes.

For the rest of the class, they kept sneaking glances at their friends, barely holding back laughter at the way Iwaizumi seemed overly focused on his work, as if to distract himself from whatever emotions he was clearly avoiding. When class finally ended, they headed out into the hallway, already planning their next hangout session.

“Want to grab something to eat after school?” Matsukawa asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder as they walked toward the gym for practice.

“Are you actually offering to treat me this time, or are you going to pretend you forgot your wallet like you did last week?” Hanamaki shot him a look, raising an eyebrow.

Matsukawa gasped in mock-offense. “First of all, that was an accident—”

“Sure it was,” Hanamaki interrupted, grinning.

“—and second of all, yes, I’ll treat you this time. Just don’t order the most expensive thing on the menu,” Matsukawa finished, giving him a playful nudge.

Hanamaki feigned deep thought, tapping his chin dramatically. “Hmm, in that case, I’ll take the steak, a side of caviar, and a dessert that costs as much as your dignity.”

Matsukawa barked a laugh. “Good luck finding that on a ramen menu, idiot.”

They made it to the gym, and the moment they stepped inside, the vibe shifted. The teasing dropped a notch, and they both fell into the rhythm of volleyball practice, each of them focused on their respective roles. Matsukawa, with his height and powerful blocks, and Hanamaki, with his quick reactions and precise plays, worked together like a well-oiled machine.

But even in practice, their dynamic stayed the same. When Hanamaki missed a dig, Matsukawa was quick to jab at him.

“You slacking, Makki? Or are you too distracted thinking about me?”

Hanamaki scoffed as he picked himself up off the floor. “Please. You’re the last thing on my mind when I’m playing.”

“Liar,” Matsukawa teased, throwing the ball at him.

The practice continued with its usual intensity, and after several exhausting drills, they collapsed onto the bench, drenched in sweat. Matsukawa leaned back against the wall, his breathing heavy as he wiped his face with his shirt.

“Man, I’m starving,” Matsukawa groaned, glancing over at Hanamaki, who was gulping down water.

Hanamaki grinned. “Still planning to treat me?”

Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m gonna back out now? I said what I said.”

Hanamaki laughed softly, nodding. “Good. I’ll hold you to it.”

After practice, they showered and headed out together, bags slung over their shoulders as they made their way to their favorite ramen shop. As they entered, the warmth and familiar scent of broth hit them, making both of them sigh in relief.

They took their usual seats by the window, and as soon as the bowls of steaming ramen arrived, they dug in with little preamble. For a few minutes, the only sound between them was the slurping of noodles and the occasional satisfied grunt.

“Okay,” Hanamaki said after a while, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, when are you finally going to admit that you’re the one who’s obsessed with me?”

Matsukawa nearly choked on his noodles, coughing as he shot Hanamaki an incredulous look. “What?”

“Come on,” Hanamaki continued with a teasing grin. “You’ve been flirting with me non-stop lately. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got a crush.”

Matsukawa leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Me? A crush on you? That’s hilarious.”

Hanamaki raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on his elbows. “Is it though? You’re always the one starting with the whole ‘babe’ thing.”

Matsukawa grinned, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “What can I say? I know what gets under your skin.”

“Yeah, well,” Hanamaki said, his smile still teasing, “maybe one day, you’ll have to get serious about it.”

Matsukawa met his gaze, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. “Maybe.”

For a moment, they both sat there, the playful tension still in the air, but with something else woven into it now—something unspoken, but not unwelcome. Then, as if to break the moment, Matsukawa raised his hand and waved over the waiter.

“Two more bowls,” he said, not breaking eye contact with Hanamaki. “On me.”

Hanamaki grinned wide, leaning back with a laugh. “I’m starting to think you do have a crush.”

Matsukawa just smirked, twirling his chopsticks between his fingers. “Maybe I do. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The rest of the night continued with more teasing, laughter, and ramen. And as they finally parted ways, walking home under the dim glow of the streetlights, that familiar warmth lingered between them—a bond neither of them could ever quite put into words but was always there, steady and strong.

And maybe, just maybe, it was more than either of them would admit. For now, though, they were content to let the teasing continue.