Love Me Harder // MatsuHana.

eleven

The days continued on, just like usual. Teasing, jokes, volleyball practice, and hanging out. Hanamaki and Matsukawa's friendship remained the same—on the surface. But, beneath the banter, there was something neither of them had quite figured out. It was like the usual flirting between them had taken on a different weight, like they were trying to see who would slip first.

One afternoon after practice, Hanamaki tossed his bag over his shoulder and jogged to catch up with Matsukawa. “You know, Issei,” he said casually, bumping into Matsukawa’s side, “I’m starting to think you keep me around just because I’m the best-looking guy in our year.”

Matsukawa shot him a side glance, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “You think that’s why I keep you around? I thought it was because you made me look taller.”

Hanamaki laughed, but he quickly threw an arm over Matsukawa’s shoulder, pulling him in close. “Hey, I’m plenty tall! You’re just freakishly tall, is all.”

Matsukawa raised an eyebrow, grinning as he looked down at Hanamaki. “Keep telling yourself that, shorty.”

“I’m literally only a couple centimeters shorter!” Hanamaki protested, dramatically standing on his tiptoes for emphasis.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll always be the short one to me,” Matsukawa said, pushing him down lightly, and they both laughed.

As they walked side by side, the sun setting low in the sky, the conversation drifted back to their usual rhythm—easy, filled with jabs and light flirting. But even when they weren’t speaking, the silences between them felt charged with something unspoken.

Later that night, they ended up at Matsukawa’s place, lounging in his room after dinner. Hanamaki was lying sprawled out on Matsukawa’s bed, flipping through his phone, while Matsukawa sat at his desk, absentmindedly scrolling through some volleyball news.

“You ever wonder,” Hanamaki started, not looking up from his phone, “why people think we’re, like, together?”

Matsukawa glanced over at him, feeling a weird mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite place. “I mean, we flirt a lot,” he said with a shrug. “We mess with each other. Maybe we just give off that vibe.”

Hanamaki hummed thoughtfully, tapping the edge of his phone against his chin. “Maybe. Or maybe you just can’t resist me.”

Matsukawa rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s it. You’ve caught me. Totally helpless in the face of your charm, Makki.”

Hanamaki grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Can’t say I blame you.”

The teasing was lighthearted as usual, but there was an undercurrent in the conversation that neither of them addressed. It had been like this for weeks now—small moments where the line between playful and serious started to blur, but they always laughed it off, never lingering too long on what those moments might actually mean.

After a while, Hanamaki rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin up on his hands as he watched Matsukawa. “You ever think maybe they’re right?”

Matsukawa froze for a split second before recovering, trying to play it cool. “Right about what?”

“Us,” Hanamaki said, his voice a bit quieter now. “Like... maybe there’s something there.”

Matsukawa blinked, not sure how to respond. His brain scrambled for something witty or dismissive to say, but nothing came. Instead, he just stared at Hanamaki, who was watching him intently, that familiar smirk on his face but with a hint of something else—something more curious, more... cautious.

Before Matsukawa could find an answer, Hanamaki broke the tension by tossing a pillow at him. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Matsukawa let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and threw the pillow back. “You’re such an idiot.”

Hanamaki laughed, the playful energy returning. “I know, I know. It’s part of my charm.”

But even after the moment passed, Matsukawa couldn’t shake the feeling that Hanamaki wasn’t entirely joking. And worse, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt either.

The next few days were more of the same. The teasing continued, but now there was a different edge to it—like they were both testing the waters, trying to see how far they could push before one of them said something they couldn’t take back.

One afternoon, they were in the gym, waiting for practice to start. Hanamaki was leaning against the wall, twirling a volleyball on his fingertip, while Matsukawa stretched nearby.

Hanamaki glanced over at him, a mischievous grin on his face. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to impress me with those stretches.”

Matsukawa, without missing a beat, smirked. “Maybe I am. Gotta keep you interested, right?”

Hanamaki chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t have to try that hard. I’m already impressed.”

For a moment, the air between them grew still, the usual light-hearted teasing taking on a different tone. Matsukawa found himself staring at Hanamaki a little longer than usual, his heart doing that annoying thing where it sped up for no reason.

“What?” Hanamaki asked, his voice softer now, but his smirk still in place.

Matsukawa shrugged, forcing himself to look away. “Nothing.”

Hanamaki didn’t press, but Matsukawa could feel his gaze lingering, like Hanamaki was waiting for him to say something more. But Matsukawa didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what this was or what it was becoming. All he knew was that things were changing, and the thought of it terrified him as much as it excited him.

For now, they both stayed in that familiar middle ground—flirting, teasing, pretending they were still just friends. But deep down, both of them were starting to feel something shift, even if they weren’t ready to admit it yet.