Chapter Text
Matsukawa didn’t think things could go this way.
When Hanamaki had confessed to him, Matsukawa had simply shaken his head and walked past his best friend. No words, no apology, nothing even remotely comforting. And when he heard Hanamaki’s muffled sobs from behind him, he had pressed out any sound from his ears.
As Mattsun paced in front of Hanamaki’s house, he constantly rang the doorbell, lips chapped as the sun began to dry out the air. The sky was shades of grey swirling through sharp panes of white.
Hanamaki’s mother finally stepped out into the gloomy air, irritation clear in her facial expression until she recognized Mattsun’s sturdy frame and messy hair.
“Matsukawa?” Her voice lilted slightly, blinking quickly. “Sorry, Takahiro already left for school. Said he had a project of some sorts.”
Mattsun’s heart dropped to his stomach, which shifted uncomfortably with the breakfast he had eaten. His mouth too dry to speak, he nodded, bowed low, and rushed towards his school.
Fuck. Why would he leave without me? Matsukawa was almost jogging, hoping that Hanamaki would maybe walk slower to catch a glimpse of the former. The darkhaired teen rushed along the familiar path to school, bag jolting painfully on his shoulder as his jog increased in speed.
Relief flicked through his entire body as he caught sight of pink hair ruffled in the breeze. Matsukawa inhaled to call his name, arm reaching forwards to grip Makki’s shoulder, a small smile appearing only for Makki-
His hand paused midair, fingertips barely extended before Mattsun processed who Makki was next to.
Iwaizumi nudged Makki’s shoulder playfully, and the latter threw his head back and laughed at what Iwaizumi had said. Makki responded eagerly in return, voice lifting at the end as if he were asking a question. Iwaizumi’s head tilted, fingers lifting to toy with his lower lip, before eventually nodding with a short remark.
Matsukawa’s stomach burned, lips subconsciously pressing together, before he faltered back, allowing their conversation to slowly fade away. His chest heaved, maybe with tears, maybe with the effort of the jog finally catching up to him and his lungs processed the cold air.
He continued in silence until he reached the school, where he was then dragged to morning practice. In the locker room, Matsukawa’s eyes kept drifting over to Makki, who was busy changing out of his shirt.
“Stop eyefucking Makki, and get changed!” Iwaizumi barked at Matsukawa, in the process of changing his shirt as well. Startled, Matsukawa spun towards the gruff voice to be met by a glowering Iwaizumi. The former instinctively frowned. Why was Iwaizumi so overprotective over Makki? Not like Matsukawa wasn’t, but either way, it was odd.
Lips tugging further downwards, Matsukawa changed silently, without a single word from his best friend. Before Matsukawa had a chance to talk to the strawberryhead, he had already left the locker room, leaving the other in the room. Oikawa sent a strange look towards Matsukawa, quietly dragging after Iwaizumi.
“What’s going on?” Matsukawa drawled at Oikawa, irritation etched onto his features.
“What are you talking about, my dear Mattsun?” Oikawa trilled, dancing around the third year with a volleyball clutched in his hands.
“Why is Hanamaki ignoring me?” Matsukawa cut to the chase, quirking a brow at the smirking Oikawa. The latter hummed and avoided the question, shoving the ball into Matsukawa’s arms with no other remarks. He trotted back over to Iwaizumi, who to Matsukawa’s annoyance, was questioning Makki, with Makki giggling at his remarks.
I’m not jealous, am I? Matsukawa blinked and recoiled at himself, licking his lips. Don’t be silly.
However, the twinge of bubbling irritation was burning through his stomach as Matsukawa gazed at Makki engaging with Iwaizumi. The affection between the two third years was clear, but vague at the same time. Matsukawa approached them slowly, watching Makki gaze up at him warily.
Matsukawa hated it. The person he knew to heart was now offering him the dullest, most phony smile he could’ve mustered. His pink hair seemed to dull in comparison to this morning, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen.
“What’s up, Matsukawa?” Makki cheerily smiled.
Internally, Matsukawa’s heart shattered in the pits of his stomach. Matsukawa? Not Issei, not even Mattsun? Fuck. He screwed up so fucking bad.
“Nothing.” Matsukawa’s voice was sharper than he intended, and he spotted a flicker of something like fear or regret flash across Makki’s face before reforming into his odd smile.
“Yeah, sorry. I should’ve known, you’re a busy guy!” Makki laughed, an empty laugh as if it reflected a mannequin, or a machine. Matsukawa’s lips tightened together. Makki almost never apologized, nor did he laugh like that at Matsukawa’s dry jokes.
Without speaking, Matsukawa went to his locker and threw on his volleyball clothes to the point of aggression, only sparing a single glance at the crestfallen Hanamaki to his right. A pang of guilt struck his chest, reminding him of Makki’s sobs as he walked away.
So why hadn’t he said yes?
Fuck. Matsukawa ran a hand through his hair, exhaling before watching Makki exit the locker room in the corner of his eye. Iwaizumi quickly followed, calling Hanamaki’s name softly, grabbing the pink haired boy’s bottle before leaving as well. Matsukawa felt that twinge again in his stomach. Whenever Makki was sick, he would personally come over to fuss over him. Whenever Makki was injured or too tired to play volleyball, Matsukawa would walk him home and explain to Makki’s parents what was going on.
So having Iwaizumi fuss over Makki was… intriguing. Matsukawa’s lips tightened against each other. No, not intriguing. More irritating.
“Mattsun, get your head out of the clouds and come practice!” Oikawa stuck his head into the room, pausing as he saw Matsukawa’s slumped posture. “Oh, my dear third year. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Matsukawa hurled at Oikawa, leaving the locker room as calm as possible, barging past the fellow third year to enter the gym, where his teammates were warming up.
Matsukawa instinctively searched for Makki, only to have his teeth grind together as he saw Makki and Iwaizumi passing to each other, with the occasional laugh as the ball ricocheted off to a random spot.
“We need to talk.” Oikawa snatched Matsukawa’s arm and dragged him to the corner, grabbing a volleyball in the process to act like they were practicing. Matsukawa gave the ball a dry look, the shiny surface reflecting the unuse.
“About..?”
“You and Makki. What the fuck did you do?” Oikawa pushed him against the wall, glowering up at the dark haired teen. “I know you did something, I just can’t prove it.”
“Go away.” Matsukawa drawled at Oikawa, shooing the other third year away from him. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Mattsun.” Oikawa frowned, voice sternly chiding the other. “I know you like him. So why did you say no?”
Matsukawa paused, expression contorting into something disgusting, something that even he couldn’t explain. Seeing Makki with another person made his stomach twist, and whenever they were together, whether sharing ice cream or just stories, his heart swelled with affection.
“Maybe he doesn’t deserve me.” Matsukawa covered for himself, coldly spinning away from Oikawa. “Maybe he just sucks.”
No. That wasn’t what he meant. That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. That…
He wasn’t prepared for the impact of the wall against his back, or the breath that was brutally forced out of his throat in a gargle of surprise. His ears began ringing as he blinked, seeing an incredibly stoic Oikawa with an Iwaizumi tugging the brunette’s shoulder away harshly, albeit his expression was soft and he spun Oikawa towards him.
Oikawa’s fists were clenched, and Matsukawa saw Iwaizumi gently guide him towards the bench while casting a glance at Matsukawa. His irises were dark and showed a clear message: We need to talk.
Makki rushed over to Oikawa, murmuring to him in soft tones before Oikawa snapped something back irritably. When he looked up, his face was scrunched in a glare, teeth gripping onto his lip until it left marks.
Iwaizumi gently rubbed his hand over Oikawa’s back, gathering him into a hug, most likely to calm him down rather than comfort him. Or that was just Matsukawa’s bitter thoughts. He knew he deserved that anyways. Shoving himself off the wall, he barked out an excuse and ran to the bathroom.
On the way, he felt the blood rush to his head, tears biting at the corners of his eyes as his sprint slowed to a speedwalk, occasionally colliding with a nearby wall or classroom door if he wasn’t paying attention. His head ached intensely after his breath was snatched from his lungs, eventually arriving at a bathroom, hopefully the nearest to the gym.
Matsukawa shoved the bathroom door open and splashed cold water over his face, eventually looking towards the mirror to check what he looked like.
After deciding his pallor was a decent shade of tan and fit for practice, Matsukawa returned to the gym. There was a halting silence in the air before his teammates all awkwardly returned to practice, Iwaizumi making a beeline for Matsukawa. His posture was relaxed as his gait slowed as Matsukawa approached him warily.
“Hey, Mattsun.” Iwaizumi blinked, offering him a volleyball. “Let’s practice receives and spikes, yeah?”
Matsukawa almost scowled at the nickname, but kept his expression neutral as he nodded, accepting the ball and separating from Iwaizumi. His hand hit the ball, spiking it over to Iwaizumi.
They passed it back and forth, ball occasionally bouncing to other people, which was then tossed back without much thought. Matsukawa’s posture relaxed as he continued to relieve his stress through the volleyball.
“Let’s do a few practice matches.” The Seijoh coach clapped his hands together twice, and assembled the teams by random.
“Team A. Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Kyoutani, Yahaba and Watari.” The coach announced loudly, scribbling on a piece of paper. It was silent except for the shuffling of feet. “Team B. Oikawa, Hanamaki, Kindaichi, Kunimi.”
The teams gathered on each side of the net, Team B starting off with the ball. Oikawa spun it quickly in his hands, throwing the ball up and quickly slamming it towards Watari. A satisfied smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth, and Matsukawa tensed, preparing to receive another ball.
Watari flinched and it spun off of his arms and out the line, and Oikawa slapped Hanamaki’s hand while Kindaichi and Kunimi rolled their eyes. After the small celebration, Oikawa served once more, and Watari successfully received it.
The shaky receive flew to Yahaba’s slight left, and the setter flicked the ball over to Kyoutani, who slammed the ball down towards Kindaichi, who grunted as it flew upwards. Oikawa darted over to set the ball over to Hanamaki, who spiked it almost straight down into the other side of the net.
“Nice kill, Makki!” Oikawa cheered, shaking the other’s shoulders aggressively. Makki offered a smile, although weariness bit at the corners of his eyes. His hand reached towards his stomach, and Makki slowly lowered himself downwards towards the ground.
“You good?” Iwaizumi ducked under the net to check on Makki, and the latter stood and pushed Iwaizumi away. Matsukawa hesitated from his spot on the opposite side of the court.
The match continued.
Oikawa scored another service ace, and Iwaizumi sent a straight before anyone could react to receive it.
The tallies of scores kept rising on each side, until finally, Kindaichi slammed the final point down, winning it for Team B.
“Good game.” Nobuteru nodded with approval as the players were scattered in a shaky circle around the coach. Matsukawa wiped the sweat off of his forehead, taking a sip from his water bottle before zoning out the coach’s suggestions and ramblings.
“Practice dismissed!”
The volleyball players scattered, and most made a beeline towards the locker room. Oikawa lagged behind with Makki, and Iwaizumi placed a hand on the third year’s shoulder. Matsukawa paced over to the trio, desperation coursing through his legs, driving his speedwalk towards the three boys.
“Please. Just hear me out.” He spat out, although not unkindly. It was more of a desperate, please at least give me a chance spit.
Makki blinked upwards at Matsukawa, tears welling in his eyes as soon as he made eye contact with his best friend. “Kinda pathetic, huh?”
His hollow laugh struck a chord in Matsukawa, and he dropped to the ground, crouching in front of Makki. Iwaizumi frowned and stuck a hand in front of Makki in a protective gesture, and the pinkhead slowly shuffled away from Matsukawa.
“Maybe after school.” Makki spoke slowly, rising to his feet unsteadily. Iwaizumi raised a brow, helping him to his feet. Oikawa offered Matsukawa a smile, slowly grasping Iwaizumi’s hand. The trio padded off, Makki noticeably leaning on the two third years heavily.
Matsukawa just watched them leave.
___________________________
In their classroom, Matsukawa stared at the empty seat where Makki was supposed to be. The desk right next to his, everyone knew, was meant for Makki and only him. Now that it was empty, Matsukawa could feel the absence in his chest. His hand twitched around his phone, pulling it out from under his desk and flipping it open.
There weren’t any messages from Makki. Without even thinking, he sent a quick question, whether Makki needed the schoolwork from today or not.
Makki responded quickly, explaining over text that he had to visit the doctor’s office and already had the work from their professor.
He wanted to visit Makki, to explain everything, to explain that he was in love with Makki. Fuck.
Doctor’s? Why? Matsukawa shot off the text before closing his phone, focusing on the lesson in front of him. A sigh left his mouth as the teacher droned on, and his pencil tapped his notebook impatiently as he stared out the window.
“Matsukawa. Pay attention.” The professor snapped, and Matsukawa straightened his posture out. His eyes floated towards the board, then towards the clock before offering a nod and a small apology.
The day dragged by, and the final bell finally rang, and Matsukawa speedwalked towards the gym with an intent question.
When he barged in, his teammates were scattered about, and Oikawa and Iwaizumi were in the corner, sharing worried expressions as they huddled over Oikawa’s phone. The teal cover was hidden by Iwaizumi’s death grip, the spiker’s hands turning white with the pressure.
After approaching, Matsukawa could hear their conversation, and he slowed his pace to the locker room.
“Makki, just tell us what’s going on.” Oikawa pleaded, his voice cracking on his friend’s name. Iwaizumi, who Matsukawa just noticed was holding Oikawa’s hand, rested his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder, wrapping his other arm around the brunette. Matsukawa felt a twinge of envy.
“Like I said, I wasn’t at school today.” Makki’s tone was clipped, reserved. Matsukawa’s blood seemed to freeze in his legs, and he slowly swiveled towards Oikawa, who shed a few tears before righting himself.
“Hanamaki.” Iwaizumi took the phone away from Oikawa’s face, staring intensely at the screen. “Don’t you remember our morning practice?”
“Should I?” The voice on the line was cold, and held a worried edge, but purely Makki’s.
“Give the phone to me.” Matsukawa snapped.
“Mattsun? Is that you?” Makki’s voice immediately took on its meek tone when he heard Matsukawa’s voice. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared.”
“Yeah, Makki. Do you know how old you are?” Matsukawa drove away the urge to run to Makki’s house and squeeze him in his arms.
“No shit I know how old I am.” A teasing lilt gripped to his voice, a strained laugh wheezing out of his throat.
“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” Matsukawa spoke into the microphone directly.
“Yeah. Team had Sunday practice, went to get popsicles at 8/11 afterwards.”
“Makki, today is Tuesday.”
“...”
The line went silent for a few moments.
“No it’s not.” Desperation leaked into Makki’s voice, and Matsukawa’s hand instinctively rose to reach for the other, only to firmly grip onto the phone.
“Makki. Stay calm. I’m going to head over.” Matsukawa instructed, ending the call and tossing the phone to Oikawa before racing to his bag. He quickly packed his things, shoving them unceremoniously into empty pockets.
Matsukawa’s breath hitched as he skidded out of the school and on the familiar path to Makki’s house.
As soon as he arrived, he knocked furiously on the door, ignoring the doorbell entirely. A frazzled mother threw the door open, and Matsukawa was relieved to see it was Makki’s mother, not a random woman. He had worried in his haste that he knocked on the wrong door.
“Oh dear. Come in, Issei.” Makki’s mother ushered him inside, like they had done so many times.
A pale Makki was draped over the couch, phone dangling on the tips of his fingertips. A rush of guilt overwhelmed Matsukawa, and after checking his phone, he discovered eight missed calls from Makki.
“Sorry, he’s been pretty exhausted all day. Takahiro, wake up.” Makki’s mother nudged her son, and Makki stirred slightly, opening his eyes a crack. His hand reached up to rub his eyes, blinking hazily at Matsukawa.
“Mattsuuuun,” he drawled out, eyes widening and sparkling. “I called you, but you didn’t respond.”
“I know.” Matsukawa murmured, reaching over to rub at Makki’s back. He allowed himself to savour this moment, where Makki wrapped his arms around his best friend and basked in his warmth.
Matsukawa slowly pulled away, feeling a pang in his stomach as Makki whined at the loss. Turning to Makki’s mother, Matsukawa blinked.
“How long has he been like this?” He asked, rubbing at Makki’s head to compensate.
“I’m not sure, around yesterday night..?” Her hand reached to stroke at her chin, eyebrows raised.
Matsukawa nodded. So he must’ve forgotten everything yesterday.
“Mattsun…” Makki’s eyes widened and tears filled the corners quickly. “My head hurts.”
Matsukawa squatted down further, watching his best friend close his eyes and let out a pitiful whimper of pain. His body curled on himself, hands gripping onto the pink hair as his body heaved, wracked with intense pain that Matsukawa didn’t know.
“I think he should go to the hospital.” Matsukawa didn’t even register his pleading tone as he gazed at Makki’s mother. The woman tightened her lips, before nodding tersely.
“He hates hospitals.” She spoke lowly, which still allowed Makki to hear her. “Ever since his father.”
Matsukawa nodded slightly. He remembered that day vividly. Makki had stumbled into Matsukawa’s house, face bloody, one eye glued shut. His knee was wrenched in an odd angle, and Matsukawa could hear the blood dripping onto his front porch, silence thick in the air.
Giving an understanding nod, Matsukawa turned to the boy next to him. “Makki, can you go to the doctor’s with us?”
“No.” Makki turned away from Matsukawa. “No. I don’t want to go. Mattsun, you’re supposed to help me. Please!”
Matsukawa’s tears were freely running down his face. “Makki, please. You need to go. For me.”
Makki slowly stopped heaving, his fists clenching at his sides before finally yielding to Matsukawa’s wavering hands. His breathing softened, eyes fluttering shut as his exhaustion set in. Without a second thought, he scooped Makki into his arms, gripping his thigh and shoulder almost to the point of pain.
The pair of mother and best friend quickly rushed Makki into his mom’s car, and Matsukawa tucked Makki into the seat, gently fastening his seatbelt before sliding into the seat beside him.
“Not in the front?”
“Sorry, if it’s alright, I’ll stay with Makki.” Matsukawa adjusted his seat belt, shifting into a more comfortable position, hand resting on Makki’s scalp to rub at the strands.
With a nod and a gentle beep from the monitor at the front, the car pulled away from the driveway and to the hospital. On route, which only took about ten minutes, Matsukawa’s head pounded. If Makki had forgotten the entirety of yesterday, then that meant that the fight never happened.
A part of Mastukawa felt guilty for even trying to take advantage of this. But that meant… maybe Makki would confess again. Maybe he had a chance to say yes again.
As the car pulled into the hospital parking lot, Matsukawa gently shook Makki awake.
“Hey, wake up. We’re just going to check you out.” His hand nudged Makki’s still frame gently.
As the other stirred, Matsukawa unbuckled his seat belt, opening the car door and hoisting Makki into his arms. The carried barely stirred, breathing slowed and slightly lagging behind what Matsukawa considered normal.
As they hurried inside, Makki’s eyes opened slightly, squinting upwards at Matsukawa. Relieved, he shifted Makki so his position was slightly more comfortable before settling him down into a hospital chair. Makki’s mother went to the reception desk while Makki took in his surroundings.
“Mattsun, you promised that I didn’t need to come back.” Makki begged, voice strained. His eyes were wide, pleading, and his posture shriveled on itself, spine curling in an unnatural spiral.
“Makki…” Matsukawa slowly stepped closer, wrapping the third year in an embrace. Matsukawa could feel him relaxing into his arms, but the trembling, which he hadn’t noticed, didn’t stop.
“Takahiro Hanamaki?” A young nurse with her auburn pair clipped back appeared in the doorway, and just in time. Makki had been inching towards the exit almost subconsciously. Matsukawa kept him in arms reach as Makki stumbled after the nurse, his mother in tow behind Matsukawa.
Matsukawa looked away as they seated Makki. He didn’t want to see the betrayed look on his face, didn't want to see the guilty look on his own.
The nurses filed in and ran tests on Makki, and the minutes seemed to distort into hours as silence overcame the room. It was blissfully quiet, and Matsukawa closed his eyes, enjoying the peaceful moment.
Makki hopped off the bench and tripped over his shoelaces, heading for Matsukawa. Opening his eyes at the racket, he scooted aside to make room for Makki, who curled himself next to Matsukawa. The latter’s arms curled around Makki, and they settled in a comfortable fashion in the tight squeeze.
After dozing off for about an hour, a nurse opened the door and tentatively stepped inside, gaze locking onto the curled teenagers.
“Takahiro Hanamaki? We have the results.” The nurse shifted her clipboard to the other hand so she could write. “We’ve diagnosed it as Transient Global Amnesia, or TGA.”
With a nod, Makki tilted his head, resting against Matsukawa.
“Transient Global Amnesia is a rare medical disease. It affects short term memory loss and affects the victim by causing dizziness and nausea.”
“Memory loss?” Makki’s mother echoed.
“Yes. It’s most likely worn off by now, but he won’t remember anything from and a bit before the episode.” The nurse explained. “It should have resolved on its own, or if not, in the next few hours.”
“Phew.” Makki smiled dopily. “I thought I was gonna die or something.”
Matsukawa cracked a small smile, but guilt shook his insides as if he was on a roller coaster. Would Makki confess again..?
The trio was ushered outside, bundling into the car once more and back to their neighborhood.
As they climbed out of the car, Makki turned to Matsukawa with pleading eyes. “Stay..?”
“Sure.” Matsukawa’s eyes flicked to Makki’s mother, who gave a small smile and an approving nod. “Just… let me get my stuff, yeah?”
Makki pouted slightly, but nodded with understanding as Matsukawa rushed to his home. Gathering his stuff, he called out an excuse to his mother, who called back a safety warning. This was a normal occurrence, so Matsukawa usually didn’t need to tell her he was sleeping over.
“I’m here.” Matsukawa gently opened the door after knocking twice, and Makki’s head lifted from the couch to peer at Matsukawa.
“Mattsun….” His arms covered his face, rocking himself on the very edge of the couch, dangerously close to rolling off.
“Makki, be careful.” Matsukawa padded over after slipping his shoes off, rolling the other boy over before settling himself as well.
“Mattsun… I told you you can call me Takahiro.” Makki drawled, hugging firmly to Matsukawa’s frame. The latter pressed him closer to his chest, spooning him on the limited space they had.
“Mak- ‘hiro..” Matsukawa rested his chin on Makki’s shoulder, and he let out a contented noise before closing his eyes. Matsukawa let him, as well as himself. It had been a long day.
—
“‘Hiro, wake up!” Matsukawa threw the covers off of the third year, shaking him awake.
The pinkhead groaned and rolled over. As Matsukawa dragged him off the couch, someone knocked on the door.
“Yahoo~Makki, wake up! We have morning practice-” Oikawa threw the door open to the sight of Matsukawa pushing Makki slowly towards the bathroom. It took the captain a few moments to process everything going on.
“Mattsun.” His tone immediately frosted. “Come here.”
“Issei..?” Makki’s widened eyes flicked to Matsukawa, and the latter felt a rush of guilt as he lumbered over to Oikawa. Cursing under his breath, he spotted Iwaizumi outside, clearly waiting for Makki and Oikawa.
“What in fucking tarnation are you doing?” Oikawa glowered at Matsukawa, gripping the collar of his shirt as he dragged Matsukawa closer. “I thought he hated you. And for good reason.”
Matsukawa winced at the harsh tone. “He has short term memory loss.”
Oikawa’s face morphed into fury. “Matsukawa, what the fuck? Do you know how messed up this is? You’re taking advantage of Makki. Just leave him alone.”
Iwaizumi, clearly hearing the racket, stepped onto the porch. “Matsukawa, you can’t just leave him and come back when he’s forgotten your mistakes.”
“Are you going to tell him the truth?” Matsukawa flinched at the words.
“Yeah. That’s what he deserves anyways.” Oikawa snarled into Matsukawa’s face, shoving him aside before calling out for Makki.
“Makki, come on! You’re going to be late!” Oikawa trilled into the hallways, and Makki poked his head out of the bathroom doorframe.
“Oikawa, stop being annoying.” Makki blubbered through the toothbrush.
The cozy moment was shattered as Oikawa glared at Matsukawa. “Come out when you’re ready!”
—-
Matsukawa ended up walking to school alone. After being held back and reassuring Makki it was okay for him to be a bit late, he changed slowly in the locker room before entering the gym.
The hostility from the other third years was intense.
Spinning to their direction, Makki gazed at him with disdain, but Matsukawa knew better. He knew it was defending the confusion Makki was feeling, and Matsukawa wilted from the intense stare. He felt relieved they were just doing passing drills for the last few minutes of practice.
Matsukawa ended up practicing with Watari. The libero was getting much better at receiving harsh spikes, and Matsukawa ignored the itching pangs of restrained feelings in his chest.
“Clean up and go to class!” The coach shouted, and the Seijoh team jumped into movement, taking the nets down and cleaning the area efficiently. Matsukawa gripped the end of a pole with Oikawa, who shot him a piercing stare of disapproval.
Matsukawa rushed out of the closet where the supplies were held, and went straight to the locker room to shove his school uniform on. He grimaced as he gazed in the mirror, straightening the pants and blazer before grabbing his school bag. Hesitantly, he snuck a glance at Makki, who was changing beside him. His shoulders were tense and awkwardly high on his torso.
“Makki-” Matsukawa reached a hand out, but Makki flinched and slapped his hand away. Matsukawa still couldn’t process the hurt quickly enough, and he roughly turned away and stared at Iwaizumi.
“We need to talk.” Matsukawa dragged the third year over to the corner of the gym.
“What’s up?” Iwaizumi glanced warily for an eavesdropping Oikawa. “Oikawa won’t be happy that we’re talking.”
“That’s why I’m not speaking to him, Sherlock.” Matsukawa retorted. “We need to talk about Makki.”
“Makki? The fact that you rejected him without saying anything and ignored his feelings?” Iwaizumi’s words hit home, and the spiker knew.
“I did. But I also know that it was a mistake. I just… didn’t know how to say anything.” It was more raw than anything Matsukawa had admitted to before.
Iwaizumi’s eyes softened and he called Oikawa over before Matsukawa could protest. Oikawa sent Iwaizumi a scathing but affectionate look, and stomped over to the twosome.
“What? Iwa-chan, why are you wasting your time on Mattsun?” Oikawa snarked.
“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi’s eyes rolled, but Matsukawa saw a flicker of understanding as the bulky third year gazed at Oikawa. “He needs our help.”
“Oh wow, the amazing Matsukawa Issei needs our help?” Oikawa scoffed, flicking his brown locks.
“Oikawa, he was going to say yes to the confession but wimped out.” Matsukawa winced at Iwaizumi’s blunt description of events, but it wasn’t like it was false.
“I know what happened Iwa-chan!” The brunette shoved his face into Iwaizumi’s personal area, and the latter cringed away by reflex. “It’s the way he deals with this shit is an issue!”
“Listen… if you don’t want to help me then so be it.” Matsukawa felt an impending sense of defeat as Oikawa rambled on about “preserving Makki’s feelings” or some shit. Matsukawa didn’t even care about Oikawa anymore; this was about Matsukawa and Hanamaki, and only them.
Oikawa paused. After all, Matsukawa knew that the brunette hated being left out of anything, and he was incredibly forgiving, even if his stubborn nature prevented a true apology.
“Fine. But don’t believe I’ll forgive you anytime soon. I’m only doing this for Makki’s sake. He looks at you like you’re the greatest thing in the world, that stupid ass.” Oikawa continued rambling, and Matsukawa and Iwaizumi exchanged agitated glances.
Matsukawa rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. “How do I even make this up to Makki?”
“Favorite food?” Oikawa offered, agitated expression already slipped off and transformed into thought.
“Cream puffs.” Matsukawa responded almost automatically. “But you fucking told him that I rejected him, you little shit!”
Iwaizumi placed his face into his hands.
“Yeah, well he deserved the fucking truth!” Oikawa shot back, stomping his foot onto the ground petulantly. “You ass!”
Makki reappeared in the door of the locker room, visibly confused at the third years’ yelling and visible agitation. His expression flicked back to neutral, but Matsukawa saw the glint of jealousy and the feeling of being left out. Before Matsukawa could call out to him, he rushed out of the gym, jacket pulled only on one shoulder in his haste.
“Well, fantastic!” Iwaizumi hissed to the wide-eyed Oikawa and startled Matsukawa. “Now he’s going to be even more upset.”
Matsukawa’s hand rose to grip at his hair, an ache forming in his temples as a headache rose. Oikawa’s incessant whining about Makki’s feelings and Iwaizumi’s driving sighs weren’t helping at all.
“We’re going to be late for class.” Admitting defeat, Matsukawa dragged his feet over to the locker room, leaving the duo behind him.
He slowly changed into his school uniform, nose wrinkling at how it looked on him, and tucked away his kneepads and training clothes, prepared for afternoon practice in the neat stacks. Tucking it into his cubby, he turned to call for Makki to wait for him-
There was no one there. Just empty air, just a shadow of Makki that Matsukawa had imagined. His hand hesitated to ruffle a ghost’s airy, windblown hair.
He stood and left the locker room with his bag weighing heavily on his shoulder. His schoolbooks were biting into his side with every step he took towards his class, where thankfully no other third years resided.
After settling into his seat, the bell chimed in the hallways and classrooms, signaling the start of his most dreaded class, English.
Anger settled into his stomach. Who even needed to use English in Japan? Matsukawa’s eye twitched, irritation only evident in his quickly crumbling eyebrows.
“Matsukawa, pay attention.” The teacher, an older senior with her hair always tied in a bun, snapped sharply at the third year. He rolled his eyes, ignoring the snickers from his classmates as the teacher muttered something about his gang-like behavior.
Matsukawa sketched mini drawings of the volleyball team and animals in the corner of his paper, tuning out the mindless drone of the senior teacher and the occasional ruffle of papers in someone’s hands. Shifting his eyes towards the window, he saw clouds, a deep midnight blue in the otherwise bright sky. Unfortunately, the sky couldn’t escape the grasp of the clouds, and a hazy shadow filed over Aoba Johsai.
The bell rung abruptly to signal his second class, which was math. He stretched his limbs out, padding outside his classroom to refill his water bottle. He tended to inquire more in classes like math, where it was important to understand every topic.
When he returned, most of his classmates were seated, notebooks already open. Shit.
Matsukawa quickly slid into his chair, throwing open his notebook and looking up for instructions from their teacher.
“We’re going to have something special today.” The teacher dragged, her voice grating against Matsukawa’s ears. “We have fire safety procedures. We will gather third years in the auditorium to go over these processes.”
If Matsukawa had ears, they would be perked and straighter than an arrow. Interest lanced through his arms, a buzzing energy causing them to slightly shift back and forth as he subconsciously searched for Makki. Maybe later they could giggle about the childish “stop drop and roll” motto. Maybe they could hold their sides and laugh until their chests hurt and they were wheezing for air.
Oikawa crushed those ideals when he linked an arm with Matsukawa, and the latter hadn’t even realized Oikawa had gripped his arm until he tore his gaze away from Makki’s pink head slowly drifting towards Iwaizumi’s spiky tufts.
Matsukawa felt that pang again, that itch in his stomach that never went away when he saw the two of them together. He thought he was positive that Oikawa and Iwaizumi were together, but seeing this, he wasn’t sure. Matsukawa turned to Oikawa to make a remark of the two of them-
Oikawa’s face was contorted into an uncontained smile. Confused, Matsukawa turned to peer at Iwaizumi.
The man himself was waving an SOS sign behind his back, and hadn’t even seemed to realize it. Oikawa was proudly grinning as people kept tapping on his shoulder to ask about the paper. Iwaizumi’s face kept flashing with confusion as more people snickered and told Iwaizumi about the sign.
After a bit, Iwaizumi had seemed to catch on and ripped the paper off of his back, letting out an inhumane growl before crumpling it up.
“Shittykawa!” He hollered, eyebrows furrowed into deep groves the more he looked for the culprit. Oikawa ducked behind Matsukawa, who fondly rolled his eyes before directing Iwaizumi over.
He had completely forgotten Makki was included in the package, and the two of them came over, muttering apologies as complaints from other students rose into the air. Joining together, they took a seat in their gym, the high school third years almost comically gathered like minnows in the same proximity.
Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Makki were huddled together, arms and legs of Oikawa and Iwaizumi tangled leisurely, Matsukawa and Makki uncomfortably tucked to themselves. Iwaizumi nudged Makki in a comforting gesture, and Matsukawa slowly linked with Makki’s limbs as well, slowly easing into relaxed postures.
The presentation began, a television glitching occasionally in the middle of the explanation video. Matsukawa yawned, shifting towards Makki in a familiar gesture, only to find out the other had dozed off on his shoulder. The former slid the pinkhead down gently to his lap, carding his fingers through the silky hair. For a gentle, long moment, Matsukawa completely forgot about the events that had unfolded, the occasional siren that rang from the television instinctively making him brush his hands gently over Makki’s ears. The boy wiggled in his lap, eyebrows scrunching together at the ear piercing screeches from the speakers.
Matsukawa glanced towards Iwaizumi and Oikawa, who were both looking at Makki questioningly, their sharp gazes piercing Matsukawa with distaste. Matsukawa looked away, lips tucking against each other.
The video on the television ended with a dramatic flourish, the music growing into a crescendo before jolting to a stop. The teachers began clapping, and Matsukawa, confused, began as well. Makki stirred in his lap, lifting his head and slowly blinking around him. His eyes were narrowed and cloudy with sleep, and his hands lifted from his own legs to rub at his hair, which was slightly frazzled from Matsukawa’s constant combing.
“Sorry, Issei…” the teen mumbled, adjusting his tie. “What time is it…?”
Matsukawa shrugged, rubbing Makki’s back as he yawned. The four third years rose to their feet, Iwaizumi supporting the unsteady Makki as they plodded back to their classrooms listlessly. Matsukawa watched with a twinge of jealousy, but his mood lifted when Makki offered him a shy smile.
Adorable. Matsukawa realized that maybe cute wasn’t the correct term for someone who was only an inch shorter than him. But then again, gazing at him, he only felt adoration towards Makki.
As he headed to his own classroom at a meandering pace, he watched Makki slowly wander further away from him.
God, he wanted to pull that pink hair closer, kiss him on the lips, and tell him millions of tales about how they fell in love in other universes. Fuck, Matsukawa didn’t even consider himself a writer; but for Makki, he would be willing to write a hundred books about their stories alone, be willing to share about their love in whatever way he could boast about the amazing person with him.
For Makki, he would rearrange the stars to align to their names every time. For Makki, he would shower him with love until he drowned, and Matsukawa would still have love to give. Matsukawa wasn’t even a romantic at the slightest, but ever since Makki had been a constant in his life, so were his feelings.
I’m so whipped. Matsukawa groaned into his sleeve, which muffled his deep voice.
At this point, he had reached his classroom, where he recovered his nonchalant demeanor and drifted in slowly to his seat. The teacher shot him a dirty look, which he promptly ignored as he pulled his notebook out. Not to take notes, but to doodle.
Matsukawa sketched out small volleyballs onto his notebook, printing them neatly, one after the other. He imagined being on the court with Makki, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi, successfully blocking and shutting down Ushijima’s spike. His eyes wandered over to the board, where he realized he probably should’ve been paying attention.
The only sounds in the room were the scrape of chalk against the board, and the scratching of pencils on notebooks that students were constantly turning the pages of. His pen tapped against the paper, biting his lower lip with boredom. God, he wished he was at volleyball practice.
The bell rang loudly in his ears, and Matsukawa swore he heard the echo of the jarring chimes. Snatching his bag to leave the classroom, he sped walk towards the door. Taking a glance from left and right in the hallways, he joined Oikawa, who he quickly spotted talking to a few girls gathered around him.
“Maybe next time!” Oikawa purred at the girl who handed him chocolates, flashing her a smile that Matsukawa knew he reserved for girls he rejected. As Iwaizumi came around the corner, Oikawa spotted him and his expression brightened, a genuine smile slipping onto his face.
Matsukawa joined the two third years as Iwaizumi slapped Oikawa on the back, shoving him towards their gym. Matsukawa snickered as the latter gave out a corresponding whine.
“My back still hurts, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa complained, rubbing the spot where the wing spiker had struck him.
“Does it hurt badly?” Iwaizumi tilted his head, concern stewing in his eyes. “Sorry.”
Oikawa flittered around Iwaizumi, laughing at his apology and sticking his tongue out. “Just kidding!”
Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but Matsukawa could see the fondness in his eyes, the gentle way he repositioned Oikawa to prevent him from running into a pole.
Matsukawa felt a pang of jealousy. His hand gripped at his hair, shaking off his bitter thoughts as he tried to relish the presence of the two bickering lovers.
He walked towards the gym, footsteps receding into the echoing hallway.