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Matsukawa Issei is and always has been a fraud. 

And if anyone could look past his snarky comments and that half lidded, easy smile he’s always got on — they’d see it too. 

Takahiro always thought it was so obvious. Matsukawa can never act so casual or layer on enough sarcasm to hide the way that his emotions bleed through his eyes like no one else Takahiro has ever met.

And yet somehow, Oikawa, the person who can never stop boasting about how he can see through absolutely anyone, has always looked right past the way that Matsukawa stares at him with stars in his eyes.

To his credit, Matsukawa picks up this habit in their first year of waiting until Oikawa looks away to count the freckles on his cheeks or whatever the hell he’s doing with all those wasted hours watching their captain.

He never makes himself easy to catch, but that’s the thing about being a fraud, right? Not getting caught is a big part of the job.

So he carefully creates this balance of picking fights and play-flirting with Takahiro or Iwaizumi a little more frequently than he does with Oikawa to try and balance out the fact that every sweet thing he says to Oikawa is entirely real. Because if he calls them all pretty, but only meets Oikawa’s eyes when he says it, that’s just normal flirty Mattsun, right?

And then there’s the way that he conveniently displaces himself from any conversation that involves love or crushes. Takahiro thought that might be enough to give him away, but Oikawa comes up with this huge conspiracy theory that Matsukawa is hiding some super slutty love life from them.

Takahiro agrees with him for the bit, because regardless of how annoying the whole situation is, the way Matsukawa melts when Oikawa puts an arm around him and whispers in his ear to try to get information out of him is always funny.

Unfortunately, it ends up working in Matsukawa’s favor a little too well. The Seijoh rumor mill chews him up and spits him out about nine times in their first and second years alone. He gets labeled a heartbreaker without ever kissing a single person, and Oikawa won’t stop feeding the fire.

He can’t help the way he loves to gossip, especially over the idea that one of his best friends might be having some secret love affair with half the girls on campus.

Oikawa won’t stop badgering Matsukawa about it, and Matsukawa always keeps his answers vague to piss Oikawa off, because for some reason he gets a kick out of seeing Oikawa all flustered and riled up—

Actually no, it makes perfect sense.

And somehow, Takahiro is the only one who ever notices these things. And how’s that fair to him? If Matsukawa is supposed to be his number one outlet for bitching and complaining, then who is he supposed to go to when he needs to bitch and complain about Matsukawa?

After two years of watching his best friend fall in love with someone who’s already consumed by someone else, Takahiro bites the bullet. 

“You’re staring.”

Matsukawa glances at him, brow raised. “What?”

It’s torture, and Takahiro has been tired of watching Matsukawa try and deal with that crushing feeling alone for way too long.

“At Oikawa,” Takahiro says, nodding towards the setter helping some of the first years through their cool-down stretches. “At his ass specifically.”

“What-”

Matsukawa glances between Oikawa and Takahiro, and for the first time, Takahiro sees fear in his best friend’s eyes. And it isn’t the same fear as when he sees big bugs or when he nearly crashed his car two weeks into having it either.

No.

He looks terrified. And Takahiro’s heart breaks for him at that moment.

“It’s okay, Mattsun—”

But Matsukawa stands from their stretches and collects his things before Takahiro can get another word out. He can’t look Takahiro in the eyes. 

“See you tomorrow.”

They don’t talk about it. Not for a while, at least.

Takahiro finds it annoying more than anything else. It’s not like Matsukawa ever had a chance with Oikawa to begin with.

From the day the four of them met, Oikawa was already so far up Iwaizumi’s ass that he couldn’t see anyone else around him. He’s dated half the girls in school, but even they all knew that they would never hold a candle to Iwaizumi.

Matsukawa loves Oikawa anyway.

Takahiro tries to pry into his best friend’s mind about why, but nothing ever comes of it.

On hot summer nights laid out on Matsukawa’s bed, half naked and high—he asks all the right questions, but Matsukawa keeps his emotions on lockdown. He rattles off these perfectly scripted lies, making it impossible to get anywhere close to a genuine answer.

For every ‘Haven’t you ever liked anyone, Mattsun?’ there’s a ‘Who could be good enough for me?’ right behind it with that pretty laugh that always manages to distract Takahiro.

He plays the part perfectly, and Takahiro is always way too scared to call him out on any of his lies.

Partially because Matsukawa can talk himself out of any confrontation, but even more so because Takahiro is introspective enough to know that the truth isn’t something that he’ll be able to swallow.

Graduation comes and goes.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa make plans to move to Tokyo together for academic and volleyball opportunities respectively. It’s perfect for them, and Matsukawa pretends to be happy for them.

Between the four of them, Takahiro is the most unsure about what his plans out past Seijoh. 

He makes Matsukawa throw darts at all of his acceptance letters to try to decide where he should go to university, but in the end, there’s only one Takahiro can say yes to.

He got accepted into nearly every university he’d applied to with academic and volleyball scholarships guaranteeing him full rides to half of them — including the one in Tokyo that Iwaizumi would be attending in the fall.

He could easily follow them to Tokyo, but Matsukawa only got two offers. 

He’s never been all that good at school. It’s not like he doesn’t have the brain for it, it's the lack of effort that hurts his grade. He’s the most street-smart person Takahiro knows and he’s got an incredible awareness of the volleyball court, but that’s not enough to get you into any great universities.

The only letters he got that weren’t condescending denials were from Miyagi Community College and a school in Sendai that offered him and Takahiro a full ride to come play volleyball for them. 

To Takahiro, the decision is easy. 

“You’re throwing away an opportunity to go play on one of the best college teams in the country, Makki.”

“Yeah, but I’ve heard the new coach at Sendai is super great,” Takahiro argues as they wander through the seventh apartment they’ve toured in the last two weeks. This one might be the winner. “Plus, Sendai’s cheaper to live in than Tokyo and I’m not exactly rolling in dough, ya know? It’s an easy choice.”

They’ve been through this before. At least fourteen times sober and twice while laying around stoned in Matsukawa’s backyard. Matsukawa even got Iwaizumi to try and talk Takahiro into following him instead, but Takahiro doesn’t really care about going to the ‘best’ school or playing on a team that’s going to go to every championship. 

He cares about Matsukawa. Probably way more than he should. Definitely more than Matsukawa knows.

“If you think I’ll have more fun living with the stick that’s always up Oikawa’s ass and Iwaizumi’s body spray addiction, you might be dumber than we thought, Mattsun,” Takahiro teases. “Too many of Oikawa’s serves to the head, or- aye!” 

Matsukawa loops a finger in the waistband of Takahiro’s track pants and Takahiro has to fight his way out of getting pantsed again (it’s become Matsukawa’s newest line of defense for when Takahiro pisses him off). 

“Don’t show the landlord my ass before we’ve even signed the lease!” he hisses, and Matsukawa begrudgingly lets him go. “I’m tired of arguing about this.”

“It’s not arguing-”

“It is. You think I can’t make my own decisions.”

“That’s not true!” Matsukawa sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair and staring out the big glass balcony door. “I just don’t want you to waste a good opportunity because you feel bad for me.” 

“I don’t feel bad for you, stupid.” Takahiro smacks him over the back of the head and yanks the balcony door open. “Do you know how much a view like this would cost us in Tokyo?”

“But the view would be better there,” Matsukawa counters.

He steps outside with Takahiro and leans against the fancy railing that helps to keep the balcony private from the cars down below. It overlooks a more rural part of Sendai and a main road runs five stories below them. Takahiro has always preferred this over the city. It’s quieter, and his anxiety can’t handle the hustle of crowded sidewalks.

“This is all I need.”

“But if you split rent three ways with them, you’ll be paying less than you’ll be paying here with me.”

“With Oikawa’s expensive ass taste? Bullshit. He wants an apartment with diamond chandeliers and shit,” Takahiro scoffs. “Be real, Mattsun. You know I can’t even stand spending the night with either of them, let alone living with them. I’d go crazy and start cannibalizing them by the end of the third day.”

“Makki…”

Matsukawa stares at him in that specific way that makes Takahiro squirm. It’s like he’s getting his mind read, but he’s never entirely sure which thoughts Matsukawa’s digging for.

“If you’re doing this for me, then you’re an idiot,” Matsukawa says finally.

Takahiro shrugs. “Guess so. But you’re my best friend, Mattsun. I’d pick you over some fancy school any day.”

Takahiro is ecstatic when he signs his name on their joint lease for the little two bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Sendai. And that feeling doesn’t fade as they spend the next month thrifting furniture and pots and pans and learning to reupholster nasty bar stools into something cutesy for their little breakfast bar. 

He tries to hold onto that feeling when he watches Matsukawa’s heart shatter while they wave goodbye to Iwaizumi and Oikawa as they get on the train to Tokyo. He has to force himself to remember that Matsukawa technically chose him too when he catches him scrolling through Oikawa’s Instagram while he sulks at their breakfast bar six months down the road.

But in the end, it’s worth it, because getting away is hard but it does make some things better.

For Takahiro, it eases all the guilt he’d started harboring in high school from freeloading off Matsukawa’s parents by crashing in their son’s room and eating almost every meal with them. Paying his share of the rent and buying his own groceries makes him feel useful for the first time in years, and he still gets to pop into his best friend’s room whenever he wants.

Over time, Matsukawa starts to feel better too. 

He claims that the college workflow is easier for him to manage, but Takahiro is pretty sure he’s just more willing to do his schoolwork if he can sit on the living room floor in his boxers with a beer and a volleyball game playing on the TV. 

Doing better in school makes him more confident, and being away from Oikawa makes him more receptive to the amount of interest he gets from the people around him. The day Matsukawa realizes how much of a catch he really is is the day that Takahiro has to start jerking off in the shower every single night.

He grows his hair out, learns how to properly take care of his curls, and gets his ears gauged to help push the punk look a little more. Ripped jeans and combat boots become key parts of his wardrobe and he experiments with crop tops and eyeliner.

The worst part is when he starts dragging Takahiro to the little gym in the basement of their apartment complex so he can lift weights five days a week. Takahiro spends the time jogging on the treadmill and watching Matsukawa bulk up, drooling over the way Matsukawa’s thighs start to fill out his gym shorts.

Then, for the first time ever, Matsukawa starts dating.

The first one is this pretty blonde girl from one of his classes. She wears baby tees and the same pink hair clips that Takahiro does, so he decides he likes her.

On a random Sunday morning, Matsukawa mentions that she’d taken his first kiss a few days before. He says it like it means nothing, eyes on his phone while he scrolls through social media (Oikawa’s Instagram specifically).

“You kissed her?” Takahiro smacks his head on a cabinet door so hard he almost knocks himself out and Matsukawa looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“What the hell, Makki?” he gasps, grabbing a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and pressing it to the goose egg already sprouting on Takahiro’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Mattsun!”

“What!?” He cups Takahiro’s cheeks and looks between his eyes, trying to check his pupils but Takahiro wiggles out of his grasp. “Did you just give yourself a concussion?”

“You kissed her!” Takahiro repeats, trying and failing to shove the icey bag of carrots away from his face.

“Yeah, and?” Matsukawa holds the back of his head to keep him from squirming away. “Are you lightheaded at all?”

“What do you mean you kissed her?”

“I mean I kissed her?”

“Mattsun, that’s your first kiss!” Takahiro cheers, beaming at him. “That’s a big deal! Aren’t you excited?”

“Not really.” Matsukawa pulls the vegetables away to look at his forehead. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?”

Then came the girl with box-dyed black hair and heart-shaped gauges. Takahiro likes her too, but mainly because she and Matsukawa make perfect sense for each other. They have the same taste in music and clothes, and personalities that complement each other so well that for a while, Takahiro really thinks they have a chance at something long-term.

She even gets Takahiro drunk and gives him five piercings in one sitting after he walks in on her fingering Matsukawa on their couch.

“Let’s just say this is payback for traumatizing you,” she laughs as she shoves a needle through his brow. 

Takahiro looks at it as more of a way to numb the heartbreak, but he doesn’t tell her that.

The piercings look good at least. Or, at least that’s what Matsukawa tells him.

Apparently, Takahiro was wrong to assume that there was any possibility of longevity in their relationship because Matsukawa breaks up with her not long after she asks them both to an orgy.

Takahiro doesn’t tell him that he goes to the orgy anyway, just like Matsukawa tries to hide the way that he jerks off to pictures of Oikawa playing volleyball five hours away. 

They both have their secrets, but Takahiro is considerably better at hiding his own.

None of Matsukawa’s girlfriends or weekend flings could ever compare to the psychological damage Takahiro takes from dealing with his first boyfriend .

Takahiro sees it coming from miles away but can’t figure out what about it bothers him so much. Sure, Matsukawa dating someone on their team isn’t particularly ideal, mainly because the fallout will be catastrophic for the team dynamic, but that’s what they call a canon event, right? You live and you learn.

He thinks for a while that he’s jealous that Hamada Kaito started chasing after Matsukawa first, or maybe it’s because Hamada’s a couple of years older than them with a perfect body and charisma out the ass. Not to mention that the guy has an insane serve that’s known to make teams cry before the game even starts.

Those are all the obvious things. The things that Takahiro feels like he’s allowed to be jealous of.

But then there’s the other thing. The glaringly obvious, infuriatingly annoying other thing. The thing that he’s not even jealous of, because it just astronomically pisses Takahiro off every single goddamn day.

It’s that Hamada Kaito’s also their number 1. Their captain. Their setter. A pretty boy with chocolate brown curls and a perfect smile. He’s a fucking Oikawa Tooru knockoff, complete with a shittier personality and a more obnoxious laugh.

But at least they never had to warn anyone about Oikawa. Hamada is one player that they’d gotten told to be careful of during orientation because he got the reputation of playing with the hearts of his underclassmen in middle school.  

Still, the similarities just get more obvious over time.

First, it’s how Hamada is so good with his words. 

Matsukawa tells Takahiro all about how easy it is to talk to Hamada, and how they can get into these deep, philosophical conversations for hours at a time. He’s never boring and always charming, but all Takahiro ever hears is how Hamada’s perfectly chosen words seem like a tool to make every evil thing he says sound perfectly normal.

Oikawa’s nickname obsession is nothing compared to the way that Hamada gets all bent out of shape over Matsukawa and Takahiro’s nicknames for each other. It’s like he can’t handle not being included in any part of Matsukawa’s life.

Takahiro almost cries tears of joy when Matsukawa snaps at Hamada for trying to call him Mattsun, and they almost shit themselves laughing the first time Hamada calls him ‘Matsu-chan’ instead.

Unfortunately, Matsukawa comes around to it. It’s sometime after Hamada starts taking to hipster cafes and art museums to ‘work on their court dynamic’, but before he starts spending every weekend at their place, fucking Matsukawa stupid and acting like Takahiro won’t catch on.

Takahiro isn’t stupid, though. And he’s not deaf either.

“Can’t they just go somewhere else?” Oikawa asks, his voice as loud as Takahiro’s headphones allow him to be. It’s almost enough to drown out the moaning on the other side of his bedroom wall. “Setter-san has an apartment too, doesn't he?”

“Yeah, but he’s got three roommates, which makes our apartment more vacant by default, I guess,” Takahiro grumbles. “And it’s not really Mattsun’s fault either. The asshole just shows up when he gets horny, so Mattsun never knows when he’s coming.”

“I don’t like this Setter-san, Makki,” Oikawa says darkly. “He seems controlling.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So you think so too?”

Takahiro thunks his head back against the wall and stares at the ceiling.

“Mattsun does everything Hamada says, no questions asked. And he doesn’t even act like it bothers him. He just does what he’s told with that fake smile he gets when he’s sad.” 

Takahiro grimaces when Matsukawa starts moaning ‘Kaito’ all high and whiny and not like himself at all. Even his sex noises are faked for this guy.

“I don’t get what he sees in him. He hasn’t even been able to joke around without Hamada getting pissed off recently.”

“But that takes away all of Mattsun’s Mattsun-ness,” Oikawa says with an odd hurt in his voice. Takahiro knows that feeling well. “All he does is joke around.”

“It’s the worst, Tooru.”

Oikawa hums loudly, announcing that he’s thinking in the most obnoxious way possible. It’s very familiar, and it eases a little of the tension. It makes Takahiro miss home a lot more than he normally does.

“I’ll just have to tell Mattsun what I think about Setter-san myself,” Oikawa announces. “Obviously he won’t listen to you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Takahiro deadpans.

“You know I’m right,” Oikawa says earnestly. “Not even a best friend can call you on your bullshit when you’ve dug yourself into a hole like he has. I, on the other hand, was his captain . No matter how much time goes by, you always listen to your captain.”

“That’s your brilliant idea? Telling him the same shit that I’ve been trying to tell him for months now?”

Oikawa scoffs indignantly. “It’s not my fault I’m way more convincing than you are, Makki.” 

“I don’t think it’s that you’re more convincing than me,” he argues. “I think it’s just that he really looks up to you and trusts that you won’t be biased. That’s why he’s-”

…been in love with you for years.

…never really gotten over you. 

…done everything in his power to replace you, but he still has your Instagram notifications on so he can like your pictures first every time. 

…moaning your name in secret when he’s jacking off and Hamada isn’t around.

“Actually, it’s a great idea,” Hanamki agrees. “Talk to him. Soon, if you can.”

“I knew you’d see it my way, Makki! I’m on it.”

It takes one disapproving text from Oikawa for Matsukawa to break up with Hamada. Takahiro thought that would sting, but the relief is overwhelming.

“It’s just not working out. I don’t think we’re good for each other long term, Kaito.”

“Babe, where is this even coming from? It doesn’t sound like you at all-”

“I think that’s just because you don’t know me like you think you do.”

There’s a long stretch of silence before Matsukawa quietly asks Hamada to take his things and leave. He fights for a while longer, but Matsukawa won’t even give the guy the chance to try and manipulate him into staying. 

Yeah, Takahiro’s relieved, but he thought he’d be happier to see Matsukawa dump Hamada’s sorry ass. And maybe he would be happier if he wasn’t watching Matsukawa’s heartbreak in real time all over again.

The first time was bad enough. 

While Matsukawa was watching Iwaizumi finally get the balls to ask Oikawa out halfway through their third year — Takahiro was watching Matsukawa’s world fall down around him. He watched that little flame of hope Matsukawa had still been holding onto go out in an instant.

The second time isn’t any easier, and the worst part is that Takahiro still doesn’t know how to help him. Two years later and he feels just as helpless when it comes to mending a broken heart.

Matsukawa isolates himself. 

He won’t talk to anyone. Not even Oikawa when Takahiro begs him to reach out after the first week. He goes to most of his classes and the mandatory volleyball practices before returning to the solitude of his bedroom. He does what he needs to — nothing more, nothing less.

Any conversations Takahiro tries to have with him are one-sided. He updates Matsukawa on every minor crumb of gossip even if he never once looks up from his phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media.

The last time went on for nearly a month before Takahiro forced Matsukawa into a smoke session with the second years and got him so baked that he finally spilled his guts about all of the Oikawa-related feelings he’d been suppressing since first year.

Takahiro doesn’t have the heart to watch Matsukawa wallow in his heartbreak for another month, but it’s not like he can pull another smoke session out of his ass. Not with Watari studying in the US and Yahaba and Kyoutani out of the country for their gap year of backpacking through Europe with their dog.

The only person that can fix this is Takahiro.

Fuck.

“Hey, Mattsun?” he calls into the darkness of Matsukawa’s room one Friday night.

The silence is loud, and Takahiro would fall for him pretending to be asleep if he couldn’t see the dim light of Matsukawa’s phone screen through the covers.

“You okay?” Matsukawa rasps. 

He sounds exhausted, but Takahiro hasn’t heard much of Matsukawa recently, so his voice is music to his ears.

“I’m just-” Takahiro swallows. “I don’t wanna think for a bit.”

“Fuckin’ felt that,” Matsukawa grumbles, moving to make room on the bed and holding the covers open for Takahiro to join him. “C’mere, Makki.”

Takahiro lets out a quiet sigh of relief and shuts the door behind him. It smells like incense and weed — Matsukawa’s signature scent. There was a time when they first started to become friends that Takahiro would get lightheaded from the smell. It used to overwhelm him, but now it’s just as intoxicating as Matsukawa himself.

Now it’s the smell of home.

“Am I gonna blind you if I turn this on?” he asks, reaching to flip on the salt lamp on the bedside table.

Matsukawa grimaces but then he sees the pipe in Takahiro’s hand. “It’s fine.”

He keeps the light dim, just enough to see what he’s doing as he crawls into bed and forces Matsukawa to sit upright. “Smoke with me?”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa agrees, grabbing his grinder.

They smoke the bowl in silence.

Matsukawa does most of the work because he’s always enjoyed it. He even lights it for Takahiro, but that’s more so because Takahiro isn’t allowed to use lighters anymore after he burnt a hole in Matsukawa’s overpriced comforter last year.

Takahiro watches him. He watches Matsukawa’s hands while he packs the bowl and gets distracted by the way the smoke curls around his lips. Matsukawa meets his gaze when Takahiro takes a hit and he notices for the first time how heavy the bags under his eyes have gotten despite the fact that all he’s been doing recently is sleep.

When they’ve both had their fill, Matsukawa leans across Takahiro to put the pipe on the nightstand and then grabs him around the waist to drag him under the covers. Takahiro laughs and lets Matsukawa put those tree trunk arms to work, settling with Takahiro close enough that they can smell each other's breath.

His sheets were absurdly expensive, but for good reason. They’re so damn comfy that Takahiro can’t even make fun of him for putting down half a paycheck towards them.

Matsukawa pulls the comforter over them, and the weight settles against him in all the right ways. There’s a reason he used to sleep in Matsukawa’s bed more than his own.

Back before Hamada started spending time under them too.

"You doing okay?" Takahiro asks quietly. 

“Yeah,” Matsukawa lies. Great start.

"Don’t be all evasive and weird about it. I just wanna know how you’re really doing,” Takahiro says, giving Matsukawa a good once over and grimacing. “I mean, clearly poorly, but-"

“Shut up.” Matsukawa pinches his ribs hard. "I'm fine. Stop worrying about me so much.”

“Then stop giving me so much to worry over.”

“Well, I’m not trying to-” Matsukawa frowns. “I'm just… adjusting .”

“It’s okay to be sad.”

“I don’t have anything to be sad about,” Matsukawa says, but it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of that too. “Me and Kaito only dated for what? Seven months? That’s nothing to be heartbroken over."

"So it’s the lack of heartbreak that’s making you all-" Takahiro waves his hand vaguely over Matsukawa. "Sad and secluded?"

"I am not sad."

"Come on, Mattsun. I hate when you keep shit from me."

Takahiro starts to feel that tingly sensation in the tips of his fingers that he always thinks is his anxiety before the rest of the high hits, so he takes Matsukawa's wrist to play with his bracelets. It keeps his mind occupied.

"I never keep stuff from you,” Matsukawa argues. “You know everything about me.”

Takahiro stares at him, trying to find answers in those hooded eyes of his. He drags his tongue piercing against the inside of his teeth and Matsukawa glances down at his mouth when he hears the clicking.  

"You kept Oikawa from me. For almost three years."

"I knew you knew."

"But you didn't tell me. And you could have. You know that you could have."

Matsukawa doesn't respond. He watches Takahiro mess with the string bracelet on his wrist. It’s Takahiro’s favorite — one of the matching friendship bracelets that Oikawa's nephew made for the four of them as a graduation present. 

Matsukawa is the only one who still wears his, but Iwaizumi keeps his on his lanyard, and Oikawa’s lives in his duffle for good luck. Takahiro fidgeted with his own so much that it broke five months after graduation so it stays in a keepsake tin under his bed.

"I'm sorry for telling him about Hamada," Takahiro whispers. "I know you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad, Makki," he says quickly, but he has to think harder about how to explain what he’s feeling. "I mean, I’m frustrated, yes. But I can’t be mad at you.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is-”

“No. It’s my own fault for trying to keep anything from Oikawa and Iwaizumi in the first place,” Matsukawa interrupts. “I’m surprised that they didn’t figure it out sooner to be honest.”

“Iwaizumi knew. Like two months in.”

“I knew you’d have to blab to one of them eventually.”

“I didn’t blab!” Takahiro protests. “He asked me about it because someone posted a picture on the team page with you and Kaito in the background staring lovingly into each other’s eyes- ow!”

“Regardless,” Matsukawa continues, rubbing his thumb over the sore spot he just jabbed into Takahiro’s ribs. “You have every right to talk to them about whatever you want. They’re our best friends. I shouldn’t have expected you to hide something like that from them.”

“Still.”

“Still. You should have told me you didn’t like him.”

“I did. In my own way.”

“And how was that?”

Takahiro thinks about all the hateful underhanded comments he made over the last six months. All of the ones that went right over Matsukawa’s head while he floated happily through all of the love bombing.

“I told you that you needed to be more careful around him.”

“Months before we started going out, yeah.”

“Then I don’t know what else you wanted me to say, Mattsun!” Takahiro says, defeated. “That was your first real relationship. Even if I wanted to spit in his eyes every day, I didn’t want to be the one that fucked with your happiness.”

“So you let Oikawa fuck with it instead?” 

“I didn’t mean to.” Takahiro frowns, pulling his hands to his chest. His heart gets stupid and sensitive when he’s high.

Matsukawa takes his hand back, thumbing over his palm and encouraging him to go back to playing with his bracelets. He tries to rebuild that bridge and his lips turn up a little when Takahiro accepts. 

“I know you didn’t.”

“I thought it’d be better if you heard it from him. You listen to him more than me.”

Matsukawa sighs deeply and pushes a strand of hair behind Takahiro’s ear. “I just really fucking wish you’d have just told me yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Issei,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to sabotage you when you finally seemed happy with someone.”

Matsukawa considers that, and Takahiro can see his thoughts slow down as his own high starts to set in. He stares at Takahiro’s hands, halfway distracted by his fidgeting.

 “It just hurt so bad to hear him say he’s disappointed in me.”

“Because you broke up with him?”

His eyes flicker up to Takahiro’s face, confused. “What?”

“Because you broke up with Hamada-”

“No, Oikawa.”

“Oikawa said that?” Takahiro’s mind reels. “Why would he say that to you?”

Matsukawa groans and rolls onto his back to look at the ceiling. “Because he knows I’m smarter than that.”

“Than what?”

“Then to fall for the first guy who made me half as much of whatever Oikawa used to make me feel. And I just- I don’t fucking know. I wanna feel seen by someone and he knows that. He always knows.”

“He doesn’t,” Takahiro says, pushing himself halfway up so he can look down at Matsukawa. “He doesn’t know you like you think he does. If he did, he’d have known how you felt years ago, but he never realized.”

“Just because he didn’t realize that I had feelings for him doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know me. He knows more than I wish he did.”

“Still, saying he’s disappointed in you? That’s a bit much, isn’t it? It’s not your fault you liked Hamada.”

Matsukawa gives Takahiro a weak smile. “It’s not because of that, Makki.”

“Then why? Why would he say that to you? He had to know that it was gonna hurt you.” He reaches out for his phone, ready to send Oikawa a strongly-worded message about choosing his words better when talking to friends.

“Makki,” Matsukawa hums, tugging at his wrist to get his attention.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you disappointed anyone because you followed your heart for once,” he blurts out. “It’s not fair.”

“Makki,” Matsukawa says again. “He didn’t say it because of who I was dating.”

“Then why, Mattsun?” Takahiro asks, feeling his heart burning for his friend. “He hurt your feelings. There has to be a reason.”

“There is,” he agrees. “He’s not disappointed in me for going out with Kaito. It’s because I didn’t pursue other… better options.”

Takahiro’s heart starts to feel tight and he chews on the ball of his tongue piercing to combat the anxiety. Of course Matsukawa has other options. Why wouldn’t he? Takahiro wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he has a line of suitors waiting outside their apartment.

“Don’t look all sad like that, Makki,” he sighs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “God, it’s almost like you don’t want me to find someone.”

“I do,” he says weakly, though he isn’t really sure that he means it.

“Oh yeah? So you’d be okay with me falling in love?”

"Already?" he groans, throwing his head back dramatically. "But you haven’t even gotten over the first two yet."

“That’s uncalled for.”

“I think it’s very called for.”

Matsukawa snorts and raises both of his hands above him, watching the dim shadows that the salt lamp casts move up the walls. He makes something vaguely shaped like a dog and then morphs it into something more phallic.

Takahiro laughs, and Matsukawa smiles a little.

"You know, sometimes I think I know everything about you," Matsukawa comments, turning the dick into a deformed bird. “But maybe I don’t know you as well as I think I do."

“Why do you say that?”

“Like sometimes I wonder if your favorite color is even still orange?” Matsukawa drops his hands and looks at Takahiro. "Even though you tell everyone it’s pink because you kept getting teased about having an ugly favorite color.”

Takahiro feels himself flush. 

“It is.”

Matsukawa noticed a long time ago that even though Takahiro wears a lot of pinks, he collects orange everywhere else in his life. Little things — like notebooks, stickers, and pins for his bags.

So while everyone else was getting him cutesy pink hair clips and blankets as gifts, Matsukawa painted him a lopsided orange to decorate his bedroom with and went out of his way to get him orange slice shaped earrings from a local vendor at a craft fair.

“I like those orange pants you’ve been wearing. The corduroy ones.”

“Do you?” Matsukawa nods. “I kinda stopped wearing them after Hamada said that they were ugly.”

“He doesn’t like when guys are confident enough in their masculinity to wear fun clothes like you do,” Matsukawa snaps. “So he can suck my dick.”

“Well… he kinda did, didn’t he?” Matsukawa levels him with a murderous look and Takahiro giggles. “I’ll have to pull them out again, then. They make my ass look good.”

“Your ass always looks good.” 

“Oh,” Takahiro laughs nervously. 

Matsukawa gives him a cocky smile and then rolls back onto his side. One of his hands falls right into Takahiro’s hair, scratching at his scalp absentmindedly. 

"Are the profiteroles from the bakery down the street from Seijoh still your favorite food?"

"With the chocolate drizzle? Yeah, definitely."

Matsukawa hums, thinking of another question. "And you still haven’t picked a career path, right?"

Takahiro thinks about that for a long moment. He’s had this issue trying to work through his future, unable to pick between different careers that he enjoys the thought of but can’t see himself in for the rest of his life.

"I’ve been thinking about education."

“Yeah? What age?”

“Primary school, I think. Maybe I’ll be an art teacher or something.”

"You’d be good with kids,” Matsukawa says without a second of hesitation.

"You think?"

"Yeah. You’ve always been a good mentor.” Matsukawa gives him a lopsided smile, and that’s how Takahiro knows he’s really high. “I think that’d be good for you."

Takahiro smiles back at him, the reassurance settling nicely in his chest. "But don’t get mad if I change my mind again in a couple of months."

"I don’t think you will," he hums.

Takahiro doesn’t ask for an explanation. Matsukawa’s blind belief in him is more than enough for him.

“Why are you quizzing me anyway?”

"I just wanted to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

"That I still know you."

"You're stupid," Takahiro snorts. "I tell you everything. I don’t think there’s anything left for you to learn.”

"I don't think that's true."

Takahiro squints at him. "What are you on about, Mattsun?"

"Was that guy in our second year actually your first kiss?" Matsukawa asks, rushing the words out like he’s been holding onto them for a while. "The one who always got in trouble for not having his tie on?"

Takahiro furrows his brows, mind racing to keep up with whatever train of thought Matsukawa’s jumped on. "Yeah. Why?"

"Because you were never excited about it."

"You weren’t excited for yours either," he counters.

"That’s because my first kiss sent me into a six month sexuality crisis,” Matsukawa explains. “I thought maybe I just didn’t fuck with the bleach blonde good girl things, but then goth didn’t do it for me either.”

"What do you mean that didn’t do it for you?” Takahiro scoffs. “She fingered you on our couch!"

"Yeah, that was what kinda sealed the deal for me. It was my first time having something up the ass and I was thinking about a guy the whole time,” Matsukawa cringes. “Which is not super bisexual behavior of me.”

“Who were you thinking about? Hamada?”

“God no,” he grumbles. 

“Then who?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you weren’t excited about your first kiss.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Takahiro shrugs. 

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“Sworn to secrecy? Over a first kiss?” Matsukawa scoffs, raising his brows to give Takahiro an ‘are you fucking stupid?’ kind of look. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

"Means I can’t tell you about it without breaking a promise I made in second year. We don’t talk about it, and we don’t tell anyone about it. That's what we agreed to and we’ve stuck to it."

“You just said that you tell me everything.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Everything except that.”

“Come on Makki…” Matsukawa rolls onto his stomach, halfway draping himself across Takahiro to look him right in the eyes. "You’re not leaving until you tell me."

"Guess you’re stuck here with me forever," Takahiro sighs, skating his fingers up Matsukawa’s back. "Aren’t you lucky?"

"You’re really not gonna tell me?" Matsukawa pouts. "What about if I guess?"

"No."

“I’m guessing.”

Takahiro laughs, “Do what you want, but I’m not telling you anything.”

“You don’t have to.” Matsukawa stares into his eyes and Takahiro has to fight the urge to shut them so he doesn’t feel like he’s being looked through. “Was the tie guy your first kiss?”

“No.”

“I thought you weren’t saying anything?”

Takahiro crosses his arms over Matsukawa’s back lazily. “Nothing about the secret. That’s not about the secret.”

“Okay, so the secret’s about your actual first kiss?”

“No.”

“That’s a lie,” Matsukawa decides, moving on before Takahiro can dispute his claim. “Okay, so whoever your first kiss was made you keep it a secret, so it’s gotta be someone you’re still friends with.”

“Who says?”

“If it was someone you’re not friends with anymore then you wouldn’t have a problem telling me about it.”

“That’s not true.” Takahiro keeps his face neutral as he denies his claims.

Matsukawa shushes him and puts a hand over his mouth. He hums loudly while he thinks, just like Oikawa does to be dramatic, so Takahiro talks just as loud behind his hand until he releases him. 

“Second year, but before you kissed the tie guy. So before Interhigh that year?” Matsukawa rolls various ideas around in his head. “I guess it could have been Yahaba, but he wasn’t out yet and he definitely hadn’t kissed anyone. Kyoutani wouldn’t come near any of us, so not him either. So it’s someone outside of the team.”

“Could have been,” Takahiro agrees.

“So they were on the team,” he concludes.

“What? No, I said it could have been!”

“But you’re lying.”

Takahiro gapes at him. “I am not!”

“You’re using your lying voice and you’re being all shifty with your eyes. That’s what you do when you’re lying.”

“Fine. Believe whatever you want.” 

“Okay so someone who graduated our second year? But you only keep in contact with our captain and he’s been dating the same girl since his second year, so it couldn’t have been him either.” 

The gears in Matsukawa’s head keep turning and Takahiro’s stomach starts to hurt.

“I don’t like this game,” he whines, trying to push Matsukawa off of him. “I can’t tell you. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

Matsukawa goes completely still, staring at Takahiro as it dawns on him. 

“Iwaizumi or Oikawa?”

“Neither,” he says quickly, fighting harder to try and get out from under him. “I’m serious, Mattsun. I’m done. I don’t wanna play anymore.”

“But Iwaizumi’s first kiss was Oikawa,” Matsukawa says slowly. His face falls and Takahiro wants to die. “So you kissed Oikawa?”

“I can’t tell you anything about it,” he whispers. He wants the earth to swallow him whole. “I’m sorry.”

Matsukawa sits back on his knees. “You already knew I liked him then, and you still kissed him?”

“It wasn’t like that, Issei! We were stupid. This was second year, remember? We were kids.”

“But you knew how I felt about him. That’s why you never told me.”

“I didn’t tell you because it was a secret! Iwaizumi doesn’t know and neither does anyone else.”

Matsukawa stares down at his hands, chest heaving in steadying breaths. “Why did you kiss him?”

“Because I was absolutely plastered and I- we weren’t thinking straight. Neither of us were. It was that night you and Iwaizumi couldn’t go to that party that the cops got called to.”

“You said you weren’t gonna go because I wasn’t going.”

“Yeah well, Oikawa convinced me. Some people from Shiratorizawa were gonna be there and you know how he loves to psych people out.” Takahiro scrubs his face with his hands. “But people kept flirting with him and giving us drinks so we were both so drunk. I don’t even remember how but we ended up laying on the roof and talking for a couple hours.”

“Talking?”

“Yes, Mattsun. Talking. About you and Iwaizumi mainly.”

“Did you-”

“I didn’t tell him anything!” he says before Matsukawa can even get the words out. “But that’s the night I knew you two would never work out, because I got to really see how in love with Iwaizumi he’s always been.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, for fuck’s sake, Mattsun! He kissed me to show me exactly how he wanted to kiss his Iwa-chan. Both of us were too drunk to see the problem there at the time, but the next morning we agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone because it didn’t mean anything. So yeah, my first kiss was because Oikawa was doing a dramatic reenactment of how he wanted to kiss the guy he fake married when he was four.”

Matsukawa’s shoulders sag and he sinks back down to the bed, face planting into the pillows. “That blows.”

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

“You promise?”

He keeps his head stuffed into the pillows and blindly puts out his pinky finger. “Promise.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Takahiro sighs, locking their pinkies together.

“You kissed the guy I was in love with for like four years!” Matsukawa yells into the pillows, but he’s still laughing a little at the stupidity of the whole situation.

“Yeah well don’t suffocate yourself over it, stupid.” Takahiro can’t help but laugh with him. “And you’re still a little in love with him.”

Matsukawa sits up suddenly and points a finger right into Takahiro’s face. “Not true.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“I’m over him!”

“Whatever you say, Mattsun.”

Maybe Matsukawa will never be entirely over Oikawa, but that’s okay. First loves are hard to get over.

Takahiro knows that from personal experience.

Matsukawa falls back into the bed rather ungracefully and yanks Takahiro closer by his waistband of his boxers alone. 

They’ve always been way too casual around each other, stealing clothes and walking around the apartment in their underwear. Takahiro likes the way that Matsukawa’s boxers are basically shorts on him, but Matsukawa touching the skin under his low waistband is enough to make him blush anyway.

“Why were you talking about me, anyway?”

Takahiro pulls his shirt down and his boxers up higher on his hips and ignores the way that makes Matsukawa smirk.

“What?”

“You said you were talking about me and Iwaizumi on the roof, right? Why were you talking about me?”

“Oh, uh…” He holds his tongue piercing between his front teeth for a second and Matsukawa watches it move between his lips and then disappear back into his mouth. “We were kinda just talking about if things would get weird between all of us if they start dating.”

“But you really didn’t tell him I liked him?”

Takahiro shakes his head. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Matsukawa stares at Takahiro, hooded eyes looking straight through him and making him squirm.

“Thanks, Makki,” he says earnestly. But before Takahiro can breathe a sigh of relief, he continues, “But you’re lying.”

“I’m not!” he says quickly. “I never told him. I never will.”

“No, I believe that,” Matsukawa says, giving him an oddly sincere smile. Like he’s trying to soften the blow. “I just don’t think that’s all you talked about that night.”

“I’m not lying,” he groans, flopping onto his back to try and put a little bit of distance between them. 

His skin feels hot all over and not entirely because of his high, though that is making it harder for him to slip on his Matsukawa-proof mask that normally helps hide his emotions a little better.

“Not telling the entire truth is still lying.”

Takahiro doesn’t respond, hoping that the conversation might just die if he doesn’t answer at all. Matsukawa is unfortunately far too resilient.

He wiggles himself closer, killing all of the space Takahiro just made and pressing himself flush against Takahiro’s side. 

He props his head up on one hand and grins when Takahiro tries to turn his head far enough away that he still can’t see his face. His cheeks are burning and he knows it. It doesn’t help that Matsukawa is practically breathing in his ear.

Takahiro wants to crawl out of his skin.

“Look at me,” he urges, fingers curling around Takahiro’s jaw and forcing him to turn his head. He smiles so softly and looks at Takahiro like he’s… “Tell me what you told Oikawa that night.”

“I can’t,” Takahiro says, voice cracking. “It’s a secret.”

“You already told me everything else.”

Takahiro meets Matsukawa’s eyes, full of mischief and a little bit of something that Takahiro can’t quite place. Maybe because he’s only ever seen that look from Matsukawa when he’d banter with Oikawa back in high school.

“You already know, don’t you?” he whispers, heart dropping.

Matsukawa runs his thumb over the line of Takahiro’s jaw and then hovers it above his lips like he’s scared of what will happen if he touches them.

“Maybe. I still wanna hear you say it though.”

"That’s cruel, Issei." 

He reaches up to hold onto Matsukawa’s wrist and sighs softly when he finally presses his thumb against his lips. He traces Takahiro’s bottom lip gently, feeling the chapped skin with care that Takahiro isn’t used to.

"Why didn’t you tell me, Hiro?"

"You didn’t tell me about Oikawa."

"That’s different."

"It’s not." 

His grip on Matsukawa’s wrist tightens when he realizes he’s trembling.

"You knew how I felt about Oikawa. I don’t think I need to tell you for you to understand what I was feeling.” Matsukawa’s eyes run over his face, hovering over his lips for long enough to make Takahiro’s stomach flutter. “I didn’t know about your feelings until recently."

"Oikawa told you?" he asks, betrayal heavy in his chest.

"He didn’t say it directly, but he said enough for me to put the pieces together."

Takahiro closes his eyes, scared he’ll say too much just by looking Matsukawa in the eyes. "It’s not fair."

"What’s not fair, Hiro?"

"That you get to know everything about me but you won’t let me know you in the same way. I thought that was the one thing I got to keep to myself."

"Why would you wanna hide that from me?" Matsukawa whispers. He runs his thumb across Takahiro’s cheekbone and Takahiro opens his eyes again, seeing the sincerity on Matsukawa’s face.

"Do you want the honest answer or the one that I tell myself to make me feel better?"

Matsukawa winces a little, but nods. "I wanna know everything."

"Fine."

He takes a breath before continuing, hand still clamped around Matsukawa's wrist. He doesn't want to let go. Not now. Not when Matsukawa is learning about the parts of him he tried to bury the deepest.

“When Oikawa and Iwaizumi went to the spring formal together in third year and we were high in the club room, I could tell something was different with you. They’d been together for long enough that I thought maybe you were just finally getting over Oikawa, but you started looking at me the way I'd always looked at you.” 

Takahiro pauses and sighs, rubbing his eyes. His words are all muffled in his own ears, he doesn’t even know if he makes sense. Matsukawa’s full attention is on him still, so he keeps talking.

“I didn’t let myself think about it until we moved here. Then you got more touchy and stared more openly, so I kinda got a little hopeful… Then, you got a girlfriend.”

"I didn’t know what I was doing."

"I know. You were working things out on your own. That’s why I wasn't mad. I could never be mad at you for that. I know how loving Oikawa tore you apart and you deserved time to heal. I wanted you to do that however you needed."

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.”

Matsukawa frowns and runs his thumb over Takahiro’s eyebrow piercing and down his cheek. "I didn't realize you knew. About how I felt.”

Takahiro smiles at him softly, rubbing circles on his wrist. "I've always been hyper-aware of you. That's why I figured out you had feelings for Oikawa so early on."

"How long?"

"I think I knew you liked him after Interhigh our first year."

"No. How long have you had feelings for me?"

Takahiro's jaw tightens. "Since before Interhigh our first year."

"Hiro," he says in that heartbroken way he used to get when he’d talk about Oikawa. "All this time?"

"Yeah."

"And you just dealt with that? Alone?"

Takahiro lets go of his wrist to pick at the skin around his own fingernails.

"Telling Oikawa on the roof was the first time that I admitted it out loud. Then I sat and I listened to him talk about Iwaizumi and how much love he has for him and it really fucked with me for a while. I think because I was watching you love someone who loved someone else while I was—while I loved you."

"That's when you started messing around with people more.”

He nods. “I needed a distraction. From you. From Oikawa. From all of it. I was practicing harder and fucking around with every openly gay guy in the prefecture. It made it bearable.”

“You did the same thing when I started dating people here too.”

Takahiro watches Matsukawa’s face as he starts putting the pieces together.

“Yeah, I was drinking a lot too. I fucked around with a guy from one of my classes for a few months and then I went to that orgy we got invited to.”

“You went to that?” Matsukawa yanks on his ear and Takahiro smacks him away, grinning at him.

“You should have gone. It was hot.”

“I’d never had sex before. I was not going to an orgy.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Takahiro starts to relax a little more, leaning his face into Matsukawa’s hand. “Still. I spent the entire time wishing you were there.”

Matsukawa looks at him so fondly. It makes Takahiro want to cry a little, because it’s a look he never thought he’d be on the receiving end of after watching Matsukawa look at Oikawa and then Hamada like that.

“Fuck.” Takahiro covers his face with his hands and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I just told you I’m in love with you.”

“Hiro, stop hiding from me,” Matsukawa says sternly, tugging his hands away. “You’ve already spent too much time hiding. You don’t need to do that anymore.”

“I don’t want to make you feel trapped, Issei. That’s why I never wanted to tell you.”

“You are the only person I’ve ever felt free to be myself with.” Matsukawa pulls Takahiro’s hand to mouth and lays a dry kiss on his knuckles. Both of them hold their breath, but neither of them pulls away. “Forget everything that you think, because I’ve never looked at anyone the same way I look at you.”

Takahiro searches Matsukawa’s face for any hint of a lie, but he looks the same as always. 

He looks at Takahiro the same way he did over their first dinner in their new apartment. With the same love he stared with when they laid out on the balcony in their underwear on the first night of spring. The very same way he looks when they’re laughing their asses off over things that aren’t funny to anyone but them. 

That’s the way Matsukawa started looking at him all the time.

“What about Oikawa?”

“He’s not here,” Matsukawa says easily. “He’s off playing volleyball with his boyfriend he’s loved since the beginning of time. I could never compete with that, and I stopped wanting to a long time ago.”

“But if things were different and Iwaizumi wasn’t around-”

“Nothing would change. Not now,” Matsukawa says. “When I look at Oikawa, and I see the pretty boy that I wanted so bad it hurt in high school. Oikawa was puppy love.”

Takahiro feels tears burning in his eyes, but he blinks them away. “What about me?”

“When I look at you, I see someone that I can’t live without,” Matsukawa says earnestly. Honestly. Wholeheartedly. “You’re the person I can see a forever with, Takahiro.”

That’s enough to break him down to the barest parts of himself. Takahiro feels raw, ripped down to the bone and exposed. Matsukawa never has trouble seeing through him, but this is the first time he’s ever willingly let him in so deeply.

Tears drip down his cheeks and Matsukawa catches each and every one.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? Before you dated anyone else and got yourself hurt?”

“Because I was convinced you’d never see me the way I saw you. You never stare like I stare at you, and you were always so happy when I was interested in other people.”

“Because seeing you happy is my favorite thing in the world,” Takahiro whispers, voice cracking as he cries. “And I do stare at you. It’s just when you’re cooking or laughing or loading a bong. The little things. That’s what I stare at.”

“You can just say that you think I’m sexy,” Matsukawa teases, grinning as he wipes away Takahiro’s tears.

“I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met in my life.” Takahiro reaches out and touches Matsukawa’s face with the same love and care that Matsukawa touches his. He traces his brow bone and eyelids, runs his fingers down his cheeks, and brushes against his lips. “I could look at you forever.”

“You actually mean that?”

“Every word.”

“How did you stay quiet for so long?”

“Because I love you too much.” Takahiro cups his cheek and Matsukawa leans into his palm. “It’d be selfish to put my feelings ahead of yours. You were going through enough.”

“Even after you know I like you too?”

Takahiro thinks about it — the real reason he never spoke up when he realized Matsukawa had started to like him back. “Because you weren’t ready. I know you’d tell me when you were ready.”

“Hey, Hiro?” he breathes, glancing down at his lips.

Takahiro is too scared to move. He’s terrified of breathing wrong and scaring this moment away. 

“Hm?”

“I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?” He curls his fingers around the base of Matsukawa’s neck, pulling them closer together.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Takahiro pulls him forward slowly, offering him an out if he wants it, but Matsukawa jumps in fast, hurtling them towards the edge before Takahiro even knows where they’re going. 

He kisses Takahiro harder than he expects, and Takahiro feels a warmth spread through his chest when he realizes that it’s because he’s nervous. Matsukawa doesn’t really get nervous, so there’s something incredibly endearing about his shaking hands and the sincere way he smashes their lips together.

It’s lucky that he’s a quick learner because he reels it back and takes a breath before Takahiro even has to make fun of him for it. Takahiro smiles and presses their lips together more gently, setting a nice and slow pace that allows space for his own nerves.

There’s something surreal about kissing Matsukawa. He kinda never thought it would really happen, but the hard press of Matsukawa’s fingers into his jaw and the stubble scratching against his skin makes it so incredibly real.

Their fear of fucking up makes them move intentionally.

Takahiro realizes quickly that he’s leading, but he doesn’t mind. Matsukawa’s only made out with a few people and Hamada’s the one who took his virginity so it’s not like he’s got the years of experience whoring around that Takahiro does.

He wraps his leg around Matsukawa’s to pull them flush against one another and runs a hand under his shirt to drag his blunt nails up and down his back. He doesn’t scratch him at all, but Matsukawa still shivers and goosebumps rise over his skin. 

That does crazy things to Takahiro’s ego. 

Matsukawa keeps his hands on Takahiro’s face, cautious even when he cards his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t try to deepen the kiss because Takahiro hasn’t and he hesitates when Takahiro drags his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You’re being such a pussy,” Takahiro chides, grabbing one of Matsukawa’s hands and moving it to his hip. “Touch me, Issei. Kiss me. ” 

“Bossy.”

That lights a necessary fire under his ass, and Matsukawa catches his lips for something a little more needy. He tips Takahiro’s head back with the hand on his jaw to kiss him deeper and lets Takahiro push his tongue between his lips. His tongue piercing clicks against Matsukawa’s teeth, and he tastes the weed on his tongue.

Takahiro doesn’t really feel high anymore, sobered up from confessing years of feelings all at once, but the taste of Matsukawa sends that happy tingly feeling all the way to his fingertips.

He dances them along Matsukawa’s skin, pausing to feel every mole and passing over each notch of his spine. His muscles tense up when Takahiro touches certain parts of his back, spreading under his skin — tight and unmoving under Takahiro’s fingers. 

It’s a reminder of just how fit he’s gotten, and how all that weight training has paid off. More so, Takahiro is hit with the startling realization that Matsukawa is so much stronger than him now. 

They’ve wrestled and play-fought so many times, but Matsukawa always goes easy on him. He’ll pin him down but let him up before he even says mercy. Matsukawa can have him however he wants — do whatever he wants to Takahiro. 

Still, he’s excruciatingly gentle in spite of his own strength.

Matsukawa’s hands are calloused and strong, but he’s so careful as he pushes Takahiro’s shirt up to touch his skin. It’s like he’s scared he’ll hurt him, but Matsukawa knows Takahiro’s physical limits already. They’ve known each other long enough that those boundaries have long since been formed.

So, he’s savoring it. Every touch is new to them both, so Matsukawa takes his time, memorizing the curves of Takahiro’s body that he’s never felt before.

He’s slow as he runs his fingers up Takahiro’s side, smiling when he flinches from the tickle. “Sorry,” he chuckles against his lips, but Takahiro knows that he’s not really.

Takahiro bites his bottom lip in retaliation and Matsukawa’s brows furrow as he gasps. It’s so quiet and so much more like the Matsukawa he knows than all the fake high moaning he’s been hearing through the walls for the last seven months. 

Oh, that’s hot.

Matsukawa drags his palm down Takahiro’s back and settles right at the base of his spine to pull Takahiro’s hips against his. They’re both halfway hard already, and Takahiro moans into his mouth when Matsukawa grinds against him intentionally. 

“Are we gonna-”

“Yes,” Takahiro says breathlessly, rolling onto his back and grabbing the back of Matsukawa’s shirt to bring him too. Matsukawa goes more than willingly, straddling Takahiro’s waist with those tree-trunk thighs of his. “Please, Issei?”

“You don’t have to beg, baby,” Matsukawa says smoothly, mouthing at his jaw. He sits back and strips his shirt off, helping Takahiro to do the same and immediately eyeing his chest.

Takahiro curls an arm around his neck and pulls him back down, kissing him hard and carding his fingers through Matsukawa’s curls. They’re frizzy from being in bed most of the day, but he doesn’t really give a damn. They still slide through his fingers easily and Matsukawa’s nails dig painfully into his ribs when he pulls a little too hard. 

“Can I?” Matsukawa asks, moving his hands up Takahiro’s body until his thumbs brush against the bars that run through his nipples.

“Please,” Takahiro begs, throwing his head back when Matsukawa thumbs over them and twists the bars hard enough to make him see stars. “Holy fuck.”

“I’ve wanted to do that since you got them,” he says, practically giddy.

“I figured,” he murmurs, catching his lips for a sloppy kiss. Spit stretches between their lips when Takahiro uses the grip on Matsukawa’s hair to pull him back. “You were hard while I got them done.”

Matsukawa has the nerve to look embarrassed by that. 

Takahiro doesn’t have time for that, so he kisses him hard, sliding his tongue right into Matsukawa’s mouth and rolling his hips when Matsukawa sucks on his tongue greedily. 

The feeling of warm skin against skin is so fucking nice. They’ve cuddled ‘on accident’ and laid together half naked in the heat of the summer, but never like this. Never pressed together from hips to tits.

They’ve never been allowed to touch like this.

Matsukawa’s arms flex as he leans over Takahiro, and Takahiro’s mouth waters. He’s strong in ways that drive Takahiro wild. He can’t touch Matsukawa enough. He doesn’t want to stop once he starts. He wants to feel every hard plane of his body and run his hand down sweat-slicked muscle.

This is a dream come true, somehow better than anything he imagined over the years and years of fantasizing about his best friend.

It’ll never be enough. He wants to feel every inch of him, but he might explode if this goes on much longer.

He pulls back from the kiss to mouth down Matsukawa’s jaw. He kisses and sucks at his neck lightly, doing his best not to leave any marks despite wanting to bite him so hard he bleeds.

Hamada had a bad habit of leaving marks where everyone could see, advertising their sex life to the entire world regardless of how many times Matsukawa insisted they keep their relationship private. 

It was tacky as hell, and Takahiro is determined to prove he has more class than that. 

He uses the grip in his hair to tip Matsukawa’s head to the side, giving him full access to lick up the length of his neck, feeling the vibration of his groan with his tongue alone. Then he dips back down right under his collar to suck a pretty bruise onto his skin. It’s low enough so that no one will see it but them and that’s more than enough for Takahiro. 

His teeth brush the skin and Matsukawa gasps, grabbing a fistful of the sheets to try and compose himself. 

“Can I bite you?” he asks, mouthing at one of his pecs.

“Please,” he says breathlessly. “Whatever you want.”

Takahiro grins at his neediness and kisses the hollow of his throat. Matsukawa may be big, but he’s submissive as hell. He whines when Takahiro sinks his teeth into his pec just above his nipple, leaving a gnarly bite mark that has Matsukawa gasping for breath.

“Fuck, Hiro…” Matsukawa blinks at him and Takahiro gets a good look at the heavy lidded, fucked out expression on his face. It does insane things to him.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, dipping down to catch Takahiro’s lips again. 

He’s looser now that Takahiro’s gotten his teeth into him, and he kisses a little messier than before. He sucks on Takahiro’s lips and drags his tongue against his palate while tugging at his nipples. He’s so hard where he’s pressed up against Takahiro’s own bulge. 

He already knows Matsukawa’s packing from spending way too much time in the locker room with him, but he feels huge . Takahiro wraps a leg around his waist to give himself more leverage to rut up against him and Matsukawa meets him in the middle.

“You might realign my spine with that thing,” he comments and Matsukawa gives him a deer-in-headlights expression. 

“You want me to fuck you?”

Takahiro laughs at the shock on Matsukawa’s face when he catches up. “Unless you don’t wanna. I’ve got a million other things we can do.”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” he says shyly, kissing Takahiro’s neck and chest to keep from looking him in the eyes as he says, “I’ve just never fucked anyone before.”

Butterflies erupt in Takahiro’s stomach and he gets a little lightheaded. 

“Good.”

Matsukawa looks up at him, surprised. “You’re cool with that?”

Takahiro cups the back of his head and leans up to press his lips to Matsukawa’s ear. “I always wanted to be your first, Issei,” he whispers. 

“Oh.” Matsukawa sucks in a heavy breath and presses a kiss to his lips. “Okay, good.”

“Good,” Takahiro agrees, eyeing Matsukawa's disheveled state. He looks so fucking pretty, and Takahiro could die happy now that he’s seen what Matsukawa looks like when he’s falling apart at the seams.

A pretty flush has worked its way from Matsukawa’s face all the way down his neck to his nipples — already hard and begging for attention that Takahiro is happy to give him. He reaches out and circles the pad of his thumb over one and wraps his lips around the other one.

“O-oh,” Matsukawa grunts when Takahiro sucks and then smooths his tongue over his nipple. He squeezes his eyes shut and grips the pillow under Takahiro’s head. His thighs quiver. “That’s-”

“Never had your nipples played with?” Matsukawa shakes his head, gripping the headboard when Takahiro puts the bud between his teeth and pulls. “That’s a shame.”

“Hiro,” he whines, cupping his cheek so that Takahiro will look up at him. He looks so overwhelmed.

“What?”

“I’m- I can’t…” He shakes his head and he laughs at himself. “Give me a second.” 

Takahiro sits himself up and Matsukawa shifts back to sit fully in his lap. He wraps his arms loosely around Takahiro’s shoulders, petting over his skin softly and taking heavy breaths while they just look at each other for a second. 

“You okay?” Takahiro asks, dragging his nails up and down his back as gently as possible. It still makes him shiver. “We can take a break.”

“No, not that. It’s just-” Matsukawa closes his eyes and tries to compose himself. He’s still high, mind working overtime to try to put together something coherent while his cock strains against his pants. “I’m not used to this. It’s- I feel like I’m so out of my element.”

He laughs and leans his forehead against Takahiro’s. 

“I’m used to things being so easy with you, but I’m so fucking nervous.”

“Why are you nervous? You’re doing great.”

“I am not,” he snorts. “I really don’t wanna fuck this up. You deserve the best and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Takahiro shakes his head, kissing Matsukawa gently and smiling against his lips. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, Issei. Having you like this. All to myself. I don’t care about the rest.”

“You’re not gonna be mad if I cum in my pants before I even put my dick in you?” Matsukawa asks so crudely that it makes Takahiro laugh right in his face. 

“That’d be kinda cute,” he says, tucking a curl behind Matsukawa’s ear. “Plus, we’ve got tomorrow, right? And all the rest of the days.” 

Matsukawa gives him this soft look that tells Takahiro he just got read like a book. “I’m not going anywhere, Takahiro. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he says, not even trying to hide his relief. “Then can you stop freaking out and finger me? I’ll talk you through it.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, grab your lube.” Takahiro piles up pillows behind his head and lays back, patting Matsukawa’s thigh. “We don’t really have any other option.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because I’m a princess, Issei.”

“Of fucking course you are,” Matsukawa scoffs. He gets into his bedside table and comes back with lube and a condom. “Never done an ounce of work in your life.”

He backs up to sit between Takahiro’s legs, hooking two fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulling them off for him. 

“It’s worked out for me so far.” 

Takahiro stretches out across the bed lazily, letting Matsukawa get a good look at him in the dim orange light. He knows he’s pretty — all long-limbed and lean with a little fat cock and silver bars through his nipples.

They’ve seen each other naked before. Locker rooms and a shared bathroom with very little shame will do that, but still. 

They’ve never gotten to just look. They’ve never gotten to appreciate each other. Staring at your best friend while he’s naked is kinda frowned upon normally.

But they’re… something else now. And Matsukawa consumes Takahiro with his eyes alone.

He takes his time exploring Takahiro’s body, petting over his thighs and sucking his nipples to see just how sensitive the piercings make him and he has to pull him off before he cums from that alone. He kisses down his stomach and leaves bruises on his hips. 

“You’re really pretty, Takahiro,” Matsukawa murmurs against his inner thigh.

He whines when Matsukawa licks up the inside of his thigh and hooks his other leg over his shoulder. “Issei, please…”

Matsukawa looks up at him, expression dark as he sucks a mark onto his thigh. “C’mon, princess. Be patient for me.”

“Oh my god,” he breathes, heat pooling in his stomach. 

Matsukawa sinks his teeth into his thigh and Takahiro’s entire body snaps tight, back arching off the bed and his heel digging in between Matsukawa’s shoulder blade. He tongues over the spot and then moves up to bite him again.

“Oh fuck.” Takahiro’s breathing comes out choppy and he fists a hand in his own hair. “Please- oh…” He throws his head back, hips jerking up into nothing and thighs shaking when Matsukawa goes in for a third time on the other thigh. 

“Don’t cum yet, princess.”

“Don’t fucking call me that- fuck . Fuck!” 

Matsukawa bites him again, harder, and at the soft skin right at the crease of his thigh and hip. He’s gonna be bruised for the next two weeks, and the mischievous look in Matsukawa’s eyes is all Takahiro needs to see to know how much he’s enjoying pulling these reactions out of him.

“Issei, please,” he whines, curling his fingers in Matsukawa’s hair and guiding him away from where he’s abusing his thighs. “At least suck me off or something.”

“Needy.”

“Are you fucking stupid? Of course, I am. I’ve been having wet dreams about this since high school.”

Matsukawa snorts and takes Takahiro’s cock in his hand, smearing precum down the head with his thumb. His hand is so big that it almost completely covers Takahiro, but where he isn’t well endowed in length he makes up for in girth.

It forces Matsukawa to spread his lips wide while he takes Takahiro into his mouth and it’s almost impossible for him to keep from dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin. Takahiro shivers when Matsukawa gets nose-deep in his pubes, enveloping him entirely in the hot wet warmth of his mouth.

For all of Matsukawa’s inexperience, he knows how to suck dick.

 He swirls his tongue around the head and hollows out his cheek when he bottoms out. Takahiro’s hips kick once and Matsukawa wraps his arms around his thighs to keep him still. It’s insane how quickly he can immobilize Takahiro with so little effort. 

It’s hot. Way too hot.

It’s like heaven.

Takahiro has been fantasizing about having Matsukawa between his legs since he was sixteen, and it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before he is hurtling toward the edge like a teenager who’s never gotten head before. 

He buries his fingers in Matsukawa’s hair and pulls him off. “Stop, stop, stop. I don’t wanna cum yet.”

“No?” Matsukawa wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand and crawls up his body to smirk down at him. “Too bad, I was having a good time.”

Takahiro pulls him down to kiss him, tasting himself in Matsukawa’s mouth. His lips are wet with spit and he can’t stop his cocky little grin from making Takahiro lose his cool so fast. 

This is the Matsukawa he knows. The easy smile and quick banter and knowing Takahiro well enough to accurately guess what’ll drive him crazy.

“Finger me or I’ll die,” he warns, biting Matsukawa’s lip hard. “I mean it, Mattsun.”

“I hear you.”

Matsukawa grabs the lube and his hands only shake a little as he slicks up the first finger. Maybe he’s more confident than they started, but there’s a tenseness about him that gives away his anxiety even when he keeps his expression perfectly neutral.

Takahiro spreads his bruised thighs and Matsukawa throws one of his legs over his shoulder to get a better view. 

“Will you tell me if I’m fucking it up?”

He circles Takahiro’s entrance with his finger and he pushes his hips towards the pressure.

“I’ll kick you, don’t worry.”

“Asshole.” 

“Mhm– ooh.” Takahiro hisses through his teeth as Matsukawa’s finger slides into him. 

He hasn’t been fucking around much at all for the last few months, relying on getting off in the shower and to the sound of Matsukawa moaning through the wall when he’s down particularly bad. The stretch doesn’t really burn, but it makes him squirm trying to get used to the feeling, and Matsukawa puts a steadying hand on his hip to keep him still. 

Matsukawa’s eyes stay trained on Takahiro’s face as he fucks his finger into him. He chews his bottom lip and thumbs over the jut of Takahiro’s hip, so intensely focused that it makes Takahiro’s skin burn hot.

“You can add another,” he rasps.

“‘Kay.”

Matsukawa does what he’s told and Takahiro grips the pillow behind his head as he works in two thick fingers. He adjusts his movements based on what makes Takahiro whiney, curling his fingers and then scissoring them. 

“Oh, fuck.” Takahiro tips his head back, arching into that pulsing pleasure of Matsukawa finding his prostate. “S’good, Issei.”

“Yeah?” Matsukawa’s voice shakes and the hand on Takahiro’s hip gets painfully tight.

“So good,” Takahiro agrees, grinning to himself. Of course, he has a praise kink. How cute.

He smooths his hand up Takahiro’s chest and thumbs over his nipple, pupils blown wide while he learns just how loud Takahiro can get.

By the time he pushes a third finger in, Matsukawa is clearly starting to lose his composure. The room is filled with the slick sound of lube and the soft ‘ah, ah’ noises Takahiro makes every time Matsukawa fucks his fingers into him.

Matsukawa doesn’t try to be gentle with him anymore, opening him up roughly because that makes Takahiro whine for more and twisting his nipple piercing so hard his vision whites out. 

“Fuck me,” Takahiro begs. “Please, baby?”

Matsukawa wastes no time from there, almost falling off the bed trying to get his sweats off. Takahiro’s mouth goes dry.

He really is huge — thick and curved and leaking . It hangs heavy between his thighs, and Takahiro thinks that thing is definitely capable of fixing his years of back pain.

Matsukawa climbs on top of him, strong thighs forcing Takahiro’s apart and flexing as he leans down to catch his lips. Their cocks press up against one another and Matsukawa uses one big hand to work them together for a second. The size difference makes Takahiro dizzy. 

“You’re drooling.”

Takahiro reaches between them to give Matsukawa a few dry tugs. 

“You’re gonna ruin me for anyone else.”

“Thank God.”

Matsukawa cups his jaw and kisses him deeply— lovingly. Takahiro melts under his touch, wrapping his arm around his shoulders to keep him close. He doesn’t need to see into his eyes to know Matsukawa is happy. Truly and genuinely happy. And Takahiro’s heart races, because there’s no one else to credit for that but himself.

Every happy ending he could have written for them pales in comparison to the way that Matsukawa looks down at him like the whole world has narrowed down to them alone. Suddenly nothing exists out of Matsukawa’s bed with his overpriced sheets and the salt lamp that lights up Matsukawa’s face in pretty orange light.

“Are you ready?” Takahiro whispers against his lips. Matsukawa nods eagerly, grabbing the condom, but Takahiro takes it from him and rips it open with his teeth. “I wanna do it.”

“Whatever, princess.”

But Matsukawa flushes as Takahiro rolls the condom onto him with skilled fingers. He strokes him, holding the weight of his cock in his hand while Matsukawa scatters kisses across his face. It’s tender and sweet and exactly what Takahiro has come to expect.

Matsukawa has always been more gentle with him than anyone else, even Oikawa. He let him into his home, into his family, into the deepest parts of himself without question. And Takahiro fell in love with that.

He fell in love with Matsukawa and all the little things that no one else ever noticed.

Matsukawa shifts back and lines himself up, looking at Takahiro apprehensively and waiting for a nod of approval before slowly pushing inside.

He braces himself with a hand on either side of Takahiro as he slides inside, accepting a few sweet kisses until he bottoms out and they moan into each other’s mouths, knocking their foreheads together. Takahiro gasps, feeling so incredibly full that he can’t quite catch his breath. He grips Matsukawa’s shoulders for support, nails digging into his skin roughly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “You feel so good.”

Matsukawa groans from the praise and grinds his hips, forcing himself impossibly deeper until Takahiro’s legs shake.

He doesn’t seem to have the words to respond, so he kisses Takahiro instead, a messy slide of lips and tongues while he pulls out and slams back inside. Takahiro cries out, dragging his nails down Matsukawa’s back so hard he’s sure it breaks skin, but Matsukawa is too focused on not cumming to notice.

“Take your time,” Takahiro encourages, but his voice trembles with need. He silently hopes that Matsukawa can hold out just a little longer.

He’s able to set a slow, deep pace that presses his cock up against Takahiro’s prostate with every thrust. It has them falling apart in each other’s arms. Every time their hips meet, Takahiro feels himself slipping closer to the edge. 

He’s not used to sex being this sweet. He likes hard and fast and rough and mean, ripping each other apart with their nails and their teeth and fucking so hard he feels it in the base of his spine for weeks. If he can walk straight afterwards, what was the point?

Matsukawa takes his time on every stroke, making sure they both feel every inch of it, and God does it make Takahiro lose control.

He’s a babbling mess of praise and Matsukawa’s name. He claws at his back fervently, keeping him close and giving himself more leverage to roll his hips in time with Matsukawa’s thrusts. He bites Matsukawa’s shoulder on a particularly deep thrust, and Matsukawa moans deeply.

He’s not loud during sex, and Takahiro knew that before they ever fell into bed together. He lets out these breathy little whines and grunts, and when he moans it’s nothing like that high, begging tone he’d use with Hamada to keep him happy.

It’s low and gravely and so fucking hot that it makes Takahiro’s cock throb.

He mouths at Takahiro’s throat, biting and bruising him when he gets a little too caught up in the feeling of Takahiro clenching around him when he hits that spot deep inside.

“M’close, Hiro,” he breathes. “I-I’m sorry.”

Takahiro shakes his head, grabbing Matsukawa’s hand to wrap it around his cock. “Cum with me.”

Matsukawa clenches his jaw, trying to keep himself together while he jerks Takahiro off in time with his thrusts until he starts to lose his pace. The muscles in his thighs bunch up the closer he gets, and Matsukawa looks down at Takahiro with this hazy, loving look in his eyes.

“Oh my- Fuck, Issei. Issei,” Takahiro moans, eyes rolling back when Matsukawa slams into his prostate and sends him crashing over the edge. Cum spills over Matsukawa’s knuckles and onto Takahiro’s stomach. 

Matsukawa watches him with stars in his eyes, hips stuttering as he follows Takahiro over. “Takahiro-” he grunts, squeezing his eyes closed as his mouth falls open in a silent moan.

Takahiro can’t take his eyes off of him, because Matsukawa looks so pretty when he cums. It’s better than any wet dream. His brows push together and his body goes taught, the muscles in his stomach jumping as he fills the condom.

He comes down slowly, still rolling his hips in barely-there thrusts that make Takahiro’s legs feel like jello. Beads of sweat slide down his skin and his cheeks burn a pretty flushed pink color that’s dramatized by the orange haze of the salt lamp.

The smell of sex and weed is heavy in the air, and Takahiro can’t get enough of it.

He runs his fingers through Matsukawa’s hair as he comes down, pushing the sweaty locks out of his eyes so he can see the moment that he comes back to earth. He hisses when he pulls out, taking the condom off with shaking fingers and throwing it vaguely towards the trash can. 

Matsukawa falls limp on top of Takahiro, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and skating his fingers up his sides even when Takahiro squirms and complains about the tickle. He just hums happily, pressing a sweet kiss to his neck while Takahiro continues to play with his hair.

“Thank you,” Matsukawa murmurs after a few minutes.

“For what?”

He props his chin up at the center of Takahiro’s chest, forcing him to crane his neck to look at him. “For not giving up on me.”

“I couldn’t have even if I wanted to.” Little butterflies flap around Takahiro’s stomach and he smiles. “I love you way too much for that.”

“I love you too.”

The butterflies grow tenfold, and Takahiro feels tears burn in his eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I really fucking do.”