Love Me Harder // MatsuHana.

seven

As they walked home, the night air was cool against their skin, but the comfortable warmth of their banter kept things light. Matsukawa’s hands were shoved into his pockets, while Hanamaki strolled beside him, slightly bumping their shoulders as they walked in sync.

“So, dinner was nice,” Hanamaki said, glancing over with a smirk. “Kind of romantic, even. You trying to impress me, Issei?”

Matsukawa rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. “I don’t need to try, Makki. You’re already impressed.”

“Bold of you to assume,” Hanamaki shot back, his grin widening.

Matsukawa slowed his pace, casually bumping his shoulder into Hanamaki’s. “I mean, come on. Look at me. I’ve got it all—brains, brawn, and a winning personality. Admit it. You’re swooning.”

Hanamaki snorted. “You’re right. I’m head over heels, babe.”

“Yeah?” Matsukawa chuckled, leaning in just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “I can tell. You’ve been staring at me like I’m your type this whole time.”

Hanamaki didn’t back down. “Maybe you are. Maybe I’m thinking about taking you out on a real date next time.”

They were close now, steps slowing as they reached a street corner, the playful tension between them simmering.

But then, Matsukawa broke into a laugh, shaking his head as he backed up. “No homo, aight?”

Hanamaki cracked up too, slapping Matsukawa’s arm lightly. “Yeah, yeah. No homo.”

They kept walking, but the laughter didn’t die down for a while. The ridiculousness of it all—the banter, the teasing—was just their way of pushing the line without actually crossing it. But that didn’t mean they weren’t enjoying the hell out of it.

A few minutes passed in silence, but then Hanamaki spoke up again. “Okay, but seriously though, I’m starting to think I’m your type. All this attention? You can’t help yourself.”

Matsukawa scoffed. “Please, if anything, you can’t resist me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you hang onto my every word.”

Hanamaki smirked, eyes narrowing mischievously. “You think I’m hanging onto your words? You’ve been flirting with me all day. What’s next, holding my hand? Cuddling up during a movie?”

Matsukawa chuckled, leaning closer just for effect. “If I did, you’d be the first to melt.”

“Maybe I would,” Hanamaki said, shrugging nonchalantly. “But I’d make you work for it.”

They locked eyes for a second, both of them fighting the urge to laugh again, the tension riding that perfect line between joking and something else.

Matsukawa leaned back, grinning as he gave Hanamaki a quick nudge. “Still, no homo, aight?”

Hanamaki laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “No homo. Obviously.”

They both laughed harder, the kind of easy laughter that made their shoulders shake, echoing down the quiet street.

When they finally composed themselves, Matsukawa nudged Hanamaki with his elbow again. “Okay, but admit it—if I asked you out for real, you’d say yes.”

Hanamaki smirked, pretending to think it over. “Depends. You paying for dinner again?”

Matsukawa scoffed. “Obviously. I’m not that cheap.”

Hanamaki nodded, still smirking. “Alright, then maybe I’d say yes. But remember—no homo.”

Matsukawa chuckled again, bumping him lightly. “Yeah, no homo.”

The conversation continued like that for the rest of the walk—playful jabs, exaggerated flirting, and the occasional “no homo” to cap off the most ridiculous, over-the-top things they said. By the time they finally reached Hanamaki’s place, the energy between them had simmered down to something softer but no less comfortable.

Hanamaki paused at his door, turning to face Matsukawa with a grin. “Well, this has been fun. Maybe next time, we’ll actually hold hands. You know, to really drive the whole ‘no homo’ thing home.”

Matsukawa laughed, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it,” Hanamaki shot back, smirking.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Matsukawa said, his voice teasing but warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hanamaki gave a mock salute. “Looking forward to it. Try not to miss me too much.”

Matsukawa flashed him a lazy grin. “No promises.”

With one final glance, Hanamaki slipped inside, and Matsukawa stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, smiling to himself before finally turning around to head home.

And as they both settled in for the night, the same thought probably crossed their minds—Yeah, we’re definitely each other’s type. But no homo… right?