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It’s normal.
That’s what he tells himself as he sits at the bar. The same light flickers above him every week, the same bartender refills his glass, and the same songs trickle from the speakers overhead from the connected jukebox. The same bodies occupy the dingy, dusty hole in the wall bar, and Matsukawa revels in the normalcy of it all.
His eyes flicker to the clock. Five minutes from now, and Hanamaki will stride in and take his usual seat beside him.
The jukebox sputters in the corner as the track changes, an upbeat yet old tune sprinkling in overhead as it connects and begins the next song. With a sigh, Matsukawa turns back to his whiskey and lifts the glass to his lips. His nose barely wrinkles from the stench nowadays, the liquid all too familiar as it slides down his throat and settles in his stomach.
He should wait until they order food, but a little change from normal does one good, right? Humming lightly, he slides his gaze to the couple by the pool table lighting up new sticks of cigarettes. The smell is worse than the alcohol, and he can’t help but roll his eyes. A few more boxes of those death sticks and he could find them in the funeral home he works at in a few years. Wouldn’t surprise him at all.
Gray eyes flick back toward the time, and like clockwork, the bell overhead chimes. An easy smile filters across his face, and Matsukawa is quick to wave down the bartender and order one of those overly sugared strawberry margaritas ahead of time as Hanamaki weaves through the tables and settles into his spot next to Matsukawa.
“Issei, my man!” He says, reaching out. His hand lands roughly on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before shaking him as well. “What’s popping, dude?”
Taking a thoughtful sip of his glass, Matsukawa purposefully takes his time with answering. It drags on, eyebrows pinching together as he taps his finger against the side of the cup. After a few moments, he grins and shrugs.
“Nothing new, really.”
Hanamaki all but groans, leaning back in his seat and playfully shoving at Matsukawa’s shoulder. “Jesus, man, had me on the edge of my seat! I thought you were about to tell me some crazy tale about your job!”
“Yeah, I bet you’d love to hear anything about my job.”
“I mean, you do work with dead people, so--”
“Seeing as how you’re unemployed and all, I mean.”
Hanamaki gives him a flat look, jaw dropping to retort, but that’s when the bartender returns with the frozen drink. He places it in front of Hanamaki before nodding and sliding away again. The liquid inside nearly matches the other’s hair, and it makes Matsukawa smile fondly at the sight. It’s cute.
They fall into idle chit chat after that, the clock and music becoming background noise as they fall into their own world. They order some chips and light food to go with it, and it almost feels like an actual date. It isn’t until a couple hours later that Matsukawa realizes he’s three drinks in, a faint flush across his cheeks, whereas Hanamaki continues to sit upright and seem unphased.
He’s usually better at keeping himself on track. Sometimes, though, he can’t help it. Sue him if his best friend is gorgeous and has a laugh that rivals the cheerful music crackling through the jukebox speakers. The flickering light overhead shines down on him like a spotlight of its own, enhancing his dimpled smile and the dusting of freckles across his cheekbones.
Matsukawa is down bad, and has been for years. It’s normal. He simply ignores it and shoves it down and pretends that this is fine.
“Ah, you know, I actually have a job interview the day after tomorrow.”
Matsukawa blinks back into reality at that, sobering up slightly as he studies his friend to see how serious he is. “Really?”
“Mhm, aren’t you proud of me?”
With a roll of his eyes, Matsukawa clinks their glasses together. His fourth, Makki’s second. “Of course I am. It’s about time you got your lazy ass up and to a job.”
“Aw, but you
like
my ass always hanging out around your apartment.”
Wisely, he lifts his glass to his lips and doesn’t comment on that, because it’s true. It happens randomly, but four out of seven days a week he does find his friend lounging about in his one bedroom apartment making himself at home. In all honesty, the place is more lively with him around, anyway.
“Where is it?”
At that, Hanamki averts his gaze, lifting his straw to his lips and taking a sip. He stares off at the bottles lining the wall in front of them, as if they’ll answer the question for him. The fact that he’s hesitating already makes Matsukawa’s gut twist with worry, anxiety thrumming through his veins. However, they’ve been in each other’s orbit since high school, and he likes to believe it’ll stay that way until they’re old and gray.
“Kyoto.”
Matsukawa swallows hard.
“Yeah, I’m taking a flight there tomorrow and then coming back after the interview.”
“Yeah…that’s…pretty far, I’m surprised.”
Hanamaki offers up a half shrug in response, smiling as he takes another sip of his drink. “Could be further, at least the commute isn’t terrible. It’ll be a pain to move, though.”
“I bet,” Matsukawa muses aloud, staring at the brown liquid of his drink. It seems unappealing now, as if one more sip will make him hurl and pass out on the spot. His blood feels far too warm suddenly, the room way too loud.
“I don’t want you to go.”
The chatter in the bar seems like a far away echo in his ears. The lights dim and narrow in on nothing but Hanamaki. Slowly, his friend turns toward him, face crumpling into one of bewilderment as he tries to process what Matsukawa is saying.
“Huh? But it seems like a good job.”
“I--” The words feel like they’re lodged in his throat. He stares, heart pounding in his ears and he can tell Hanamaki is getting more concerned with every passing second. “I’d miss you.”
Instantly, Hanamaki relaxes, letting out a small laugh. “Well,
of course,
I’d miss you, too! You’re my best friend.”
“I’m in love with you.”
Time comes to a standstill at that. He watches the way Hanamaki’s fingers tighten around the glass, lips parting and clamping shut time and time again as he tries to figure out if he heard Matsukawa right. A small, strangled sound comes tumbling out when Hanamaki lifts his brown eyes, searching Matsukawa’s face for a solid minute before he can finally speak again.
“What?”
“I…I’m in love with you. Please don’t go.”
It’s pathetic. It’s a far cry from how he really feels. How can he throw up everything Hanamaki means to him in a run down bar close to midnight when his plane leaves tomorrow? How can he explain that Hanamaki is what makes his place a home, that Hanamaki is the perfect piece of normalcy needed in his life to keep going day after day. How is he supposed to tell him that he’s everything and more because he’s his best friend, and nothing is the same without him around?
“Issei,” Hanamaki says, the surprise etched to his face sending panic through Matsukawa’s system once more. He feels as if he may hurl all across the counter top. What the hell is he doing?
“Are you-- is this the alcohol?”
The shake of his head is insistent and immediate, eyes widening with panic. His hand moves before he can think to stop it, warm palm settling against Hanamaki’s thigh, and he ducks his head down a bit so he can look up and force eye contact.
“I mean it. I don’t want you to go.”
“Okay.”
Matsukawa blinks. He retreats, shocked, mind swirling and spiraling. Just like that? How is that okay?
“Are you serious? Are you sure? Why-- what?”
The two stare at each other for a moment, as if two puzzle pieces are slowly sliding together. Matsukawa knows the answer to his own questions without Hanamaki having to even open his mouth. The answer is simple; Hanamaki loves him, too.
“For how long?” Matsukawa asks, brain an alcoholic fog as he finds himself leaning in closer.
“Probably since I first met you,” Hanamaki replies, breath fanning against the other’s face. Matsukawa isn’t even sure when they got so close. The dim lights don’t diminish how pretty Hanamaki is. The light dusting of freckles across his cheekbones, his cute strawberry blonde eyelashes, his little dimples as he smiles into Matsukawa’s face--
“If you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll get on the plane and go.”
That’s all he needs, really. He erases the last few centimeters of space between them and crashes their lips togethers, hand lifting to cup the other’s face. Hanamaki’s own hands move to card through the other’s hair, shifting on his barstool to scoot a bit closer.
Hanamaki tastes like strawberries, and it’s the most addicting thing Matsukawa has ever tasted.
Pulling back just so he can rest their foreheads together, he huffs out a small breath, a light laugh following. “I’ve wanted to do that for years.”
“You should’ve.”
“Well, you didn’t do it either.”
“Hm, maybe so.”
Matsukawa laughs again, pinching the other cheek and pulling on the skin. It earns him a squeak of indignation, Hanamaki tugging at his hair in playful revenge.
“You know, I don’t really want to stop you from getting a job, I just…” Matsukawa trails off, lifting his shoulders up into a half shrug. “I just don’t like the thought of not seeing you all the time.”
Looking away, Hanamaki brings his drink up to his lips and takes a long, thoughtful sip through the straw. He doesn’t look back as he speaks. “I lied, there’s no job.”
A minute passes before Matsukawa’s alcohol riddled brain catches up. “What the
fuck
do you mean there’s no--”
Swooping forward, Hanamaki grabs the collar of Matsukawa’s shirt and tugs him back in for another kiss. He doesn’t seem to care that they’re in public, the kiss filled with passion and desperation as he actually stands up and steps right into his friend’s personal space-- not that Matsukawa cares.
His hands fall to Hanamaki’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head angling upward to better accommodate for the kiss. It makes his already fuzzy head feel heavy, all senses screaming for more.
But they are in public, and Matsukawa would love nothing more than to stand up and pin his best friend against the nearest wall-- but they
are
regulars here. They should at least try
not
to get kicked out and banned. With much regret, he pulls away, but only so he can peck a couple more kisses against Hanamaki’s lips before also standing up.
“Was this your big ploy to get me to confess?” He asks, finally connecting the dots.
Grinning ear to ear, Hanamaki slaps a few bills onto the countertop and slides his hand down to take Matsukawa’s in his, tangling their fingers together as he steps away. With an innocent shrug, he turns and begins to lead the way toward the front door. Stumbling after him like a drunken fool, he smiles as they exit the run down bar and enter the chilly night.
“You should just move in with me, you know?” He blurts out, laughing as Hanamaki nearly trips over air.
He gives him a look of pure shock, rolling his eyes a moment later. “One step at a time, man, come on. Haven’t even asked me to be your boyfriend.”
Matsukawa blinks. He really hopes he remembers all of this when he’s sober. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
Batting his eyelashes like the little shit he is, Hanamaki squeezes his hand. “Take me to dinner first, and I’ll think about it.”
Dumbly, Matsukawa goes along with it, even though he already knows that Hanamaki is saying yes in his own stupid way. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
Usually, they’d part ways and go to their own separate places, but this time, Hanamaki tugs him along on the route toward Matsukawa’s apartment. It makes his heart swell up as they stumble along the sidewalk, hand in hand, and makes his head spin in a way he could very much get used to.
“I’m so in love with you,” Matsukawa sighs, smiling as they walk into the night.
With a laugh, Hanamaki bumps their shoulders together, leaning over to place a kiss on Matsukawa's cheek. “I love you too, Issei.”