#lowkey have been considering elongaaaating this one

[caandlelit]

Matsukawa pauses at the end of the hallway and says, 'So, be honest for a second.'

'Oh, just a second? Doable,' Hanamaki says. He stops too, rocking back on his heels just once, still smiling.

Matsukawa hesitates.

Then, 'Do I have a chance with you?'

Hanamaki's smile drops.

'What are you talking about.'

'In any possible way,' Matsukawa clarifies, or, his tone is that of clarification. Hanamaki is still buffering, so it sounds like horseshit to him. 'In any universe, do you think, of any of the possible—worlds of us.'

'Worlds of us,' he repeats faintly. He'd said possible twice.

'Could I,' Matsukawa nods.

And; 'Could we? Maybe if. If you think about it, us being, going, or generally about me is there even a—chance,' he finishes.

Trails off.

A subdued, pathetic end to a question that had been sprung so casually, so nonchalant, so hey listen what's the time or yo pass me that pencil that Hanamaki is actually, sincerely reeling.

At the juxtaposition, like. The absurdity of this moment. Someone brushes past and they both take a step closer.

And; Matsukawa is 15 years and 8 months, six feet, a stupendous sixty nine kayjee worth of ease. He has never studied for a test. He talks so slowly it's offensive and squints at scary movie scenes to see them better. He spent their last cram sesh watching 'pen trick' tutorials online. He is most likely to laugh in the face of death, quietly and with his shoulders shaking.

He is flushed and slightly sweaty.

It's ten A.M. Shoes squeak against the clean hallway floors. Lockers slam shut and doors click open. Hanamaki stares for a long time at Matsukawa's twitching jaw, the red creeping into his ears, the nervous flex of long fingers as they slide up his nape into his hair.

'Answer.' Gaze fixed above Hanamaki's head.

'No?'

Dark eyes blink down to meet Hanamaki's. 'No?'

'No,' he asserts. Crosses his arms, because he's feeling a bit stupid with them hanging by his sides, leftover from when his jaw'd been hanging, just now, five seconds ago.

Matsukawa looks like his world has just ended.

Still, he asks, haltingly, 'No, as in, I don't.'

Hanamaki huffs, shifting his face pointedly away from Matsukawa's. 'No. No as in, I'm not answering that.'

He peeks though, eyes flicking to catch his reaction.

Matsukawa opens his mouth, then closes it.

And Hanamaki knows Matsukawa pretty well because it's been around eight months. Nine, maybe, he's not keeping count. So he knows Matsukawa from the cartilage jutting out the bridge of his nose to his brown, brown knees. Knows he sweats when he's nervous. Knows it goes both ways.

So he keeps quiet and keeps looking at him seriously as Matsukawa goes from worrying the inside of his lip to furrowing his brows. Waits for his forehead to clear and his lips, raw purple to part around, 'Ah.'

Matsukawa looks at him, as if for signs he's joking. Gets none.

His eyes crinkle. He wets his lips, just at the inner seam like his mouth had gone dry.

Hanamaki repeats his, 'Ah,' in a similar tone.

Matsukawa clicks his tongue, a familiar, beautiful ease returning to his body. His cheek dimpling as his lips close around a grin. 'Ah. Okay.'

Hanamaki kicks his shin lightly, and Matsukawa straightens, curving away and oh, he hadn't even noticed that.

The way Matsukawa's whole frame had turned towards him, the hallway blocked off, just them facing each other at a standstill while the rest of the world moved.

Still, stepping back doesn't stop Matsukawa's broadening smile. Self satisfied where mere minutes ago he'd been all but near-breakdown, the insufferable toerag. 'That's a yes.'

They go back enroute to class, falling into step seamlessly and Hanamaki says, trying to hold it off, or maybe attempting to protect himself from violent, amateur flirting, 'Nothing more should be said on this matter.'

Matsukawa is as resilient as a pillar. 'Maybe by you. Maybe this matter is all I personally will ever talk about.'

'Maybe you should think before you speak.'

'Maybe you should speak less confusingly.'

'Maybe you should be less easily confused.'

'Maybe you should get real.'

Hanamaki lets out a bright, giddy laugh. This really is happening. Something thrumming in him says it was always going to.

Matsukawa smiles out at their milling schoolmates, entirely content. Once more at ease. Hanamaki's own cheeks are warm, have been for a few minutes now, but he can't be mad. He's all floating on air, never been happier.

Matsukawa has a chance. More to the point, he wants one.

Hanamaki would give him his own nervous system right out from under his traitorous pink skin, because it's only nervous for him, so a chance is easy. A chance is a given.

A chance was only ever going to be given to him, if Hanamaki is honest. And now, he figures, peeking up at Matsukawa's happy flush, red ears and dimpling mouth, no one else will ever try.

Hanamaki stuffs his hands in his pockets. Walks onward. Matsukawa says, 'So, be honest again.'

'If you're asking.' Hanamaki would tell no lies, if he was asking. At the very least he'd try.

Matsukawa ducks his head but he can't hide that toothy smile, Hanamaki's already seen it. 'Do you want to skip fourth period and go—get something to eat?'

'Are you hungry?' Hanamaki asks, because he wants to know.

'No,' he admits. 'I just want to be alone with you.'

Hanamaki's nervous system is buzzing and alight, his fingertips sparking and his brain thrumming and it's like his entire body is one golden livewire.

He touches Matsukawa's sleeve, then tugs at it and Matsukawa turns, not on fire but face burning red.

'I want to be alone with you too,' Hanamaki confides, cheeks hurting with how hard he's smiling.

'Ten A.M is too early for you to talk to me like that,' Matsukawa says, sounding winded.

Hanamaki laughs, yanks on his sleeve so they can make their getaway.

It's abrupt, spontaneous and daring for the middle of the week so early in the school day but they share a look brimming with crazy excitement when they get to the closest exit.

'What if we get caught?' Matsukawa teases, crowding behind Hanamaki as he hides, flat against a wall as a janitor walks by. His body heat is momentarily everything.

'Take a fucking chance, Issei,' Hanamaki says, and finds Matsukawa's hand, fingers slipping into his.

His palm is sweaty and when he groans, it's open and born of half-delight. 'Whatever, Hiro—anything.'

The gate swings shut and they're already racing down the street.

(11:23 A.M) hanapippi: yo can u hide our bags

(11:23 A.M) hanapippi: drop them off at issei's @ the end ofthe day

(11:32 A.M) iwa seijoh: You guys are nuts

(11:32 A.M) hanapippi: we're on our first date

(11:32 A.M) iwa seijoh: Fine

(11:33 A.M) hanapippi: ur a real 1 💖

#matsuhana #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu fic #seijoh #iwaizumi hajime #lowkey have been considering elongaaaating this one #but i do have lawnchair to think of #like im already busy... do i have time for this littleguy #tumblr is enough maybe #no warnings btw #but cleaned up