Hanamaki should have known this would happen.
He had only noticed it this morning while he was brushing his teeth, and he had snuck into his mom’s bathroom to grab her concealer and apply it. He wore a jacket for good measure, and it went unnoticed for most of the day until volleyball practice. They were in the locker room, hair wet from their showers, when Oikawa saw it.
“Makki,” he gasped in disbelief. “Is that a hickey?”
All of his teammates' eyes landed on Hanamaki, and his hand flew up to cover the bruise on his neck. Kunimi laughed into his hand, Iwaizumi blushed from secondhand embarrassment, and Kyoutani gave him a pointed, disgusted look.
“Where?” Kindaichi asked, squinting, and Oikawa marched over to pull Hanamaki’s hand away.
“Dude, leave me alone,” Hanamaki muttered, getting his things out of his locker and averting his eyes, feeling the blush on his cheeks.
“Who’s it from?” Oikawa pressed, leaning in as Hanamaki leaned away. “Why wouldn’t you tell me if you had a girlfriend, Makki? I’m offended, really!”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he muttered, and Oikawa opened his mouth, but Iwaizumi hit him over the back of the head.
“Leave him alone, Shittykawa,” he scolded, and Oikawa whimpered.
“C’mon, who was it, Hanamaki?” Watari decided to join in. Hanamaki just wanted to go home. He wished he had waited to take a shower until then. He closed his locker, turning in place only to meet his half-lidded eyes.
Matsukawa smirked knowingly at him, a lazy tilt of the mouth he knew all too well. The blush on his cheeks heated, and he brought his hand up to cover the hickey once again. He was always careful not to leave marks, but when he was biting at his neck last night, it seemed deliberate. Hanamaki wanted to be mad, but something about the way Matsukawa stared him down from across the room caused heat to swirl around in his chest.
He didn’t notice the silence in the room as their teammates stared at them.
“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” Kyoutani deadpanned, brows furrowed. The pair turned to look at him, and Hanamaki opened his mouth, but Kyoutani waved his hand in front of his face. “No, no, no, don’t even start. We already have to deal with them, and now we have to deal with you two?” He pointed to Oikawa and Iwaizumi, but they didn’t have time to be offended, their mouths open in shock as they stared at their best friends.
“Kyoutani-kun, maybe you…” Yahaba put a hand on his shoulder that he shrugged away.
“I don’t care if you do your gay shit. I get it, trust me. I get it,” he placed a hand on Yahaba’s head to clarify, and the other boy blushed. “But for the love of God, please do not be another them. I can’t take it. None of us can take it.”
“Excuse me,” Oikawa finally said, hand on his chest. “That is no way to talk about your captain and senpai.”
Yahaba held Kyoutani back, and the first- and second-year students followed them out of the locker room with waves over their shoulders and a couple whistles from Kindaichi and Watari that made Hanamaki roll his eyes.
“Care to explain?” Iwaizumi said once they left, and Matsukawa crossed the room to throw his arm over Hanamaki’s shoulders.
“We’re in love or some shit,” he smiled, reaching up with his free hand to squish Hanamaki’s cheeks together. Their friends raised their eyebrows, and Hanamaki’s chest was tight at the thought of disapproval, but Oikawa fixed him with a smile.
“We’ll have to go on a double date sometime then, won’t we?” he suggested, and Iwaizumi reached over to punch Matsukawa’s shoulder.
“Why would you keep it from us?” Iwaizumi asked after they had started their trek back home. He and Oikawa walked with joined hands in front of them, and Matsukawa kept his arm around Hanamaki’s shoulders. He didn’t sound offended that they had kept it a secret, only curious.
“Didn’t want to rain on your parade,” Hanamaki answered, and Iwaizumi looked back at them. “You guys started at it around the same time we did.”
“That was months ago,” Oikawa said, and Hanamaki shrugged. It was just another one of their secrets. He wasn’t sure if he would miss the game they played, pulling each other into empty classrooms and bathroom stalls for a quick kiss and then some. They found themselves in a janitor’s closet once, for the cliché if nothing else.
“I wanted everyone to know,” Matsukawa admitted once they had waved their friends off and gone separate ways. “I know you did, too.”
“We could’ve just, I don’t know, told them,” Hanamaki said, and Matsukawa grinned.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Hanamaki stopped, grabbing Matsukawa’s free hand and pulling it towards him. Matsukawa brought his other arm up to wrap around his shoulders while Hanamaki hugged his waist. They kissed in the middle of the street, lips pressing together firmly with a loud smooch when they pulled apart.
“Love you,” Hanamaki said, and they didn’t say it often. They didn’t have to. Matsukawa kissed his nose in response before pulling away.
“Let’s get you home,” he said, walking backwards down the street and giving his boyfriend a sly wink.
Hanamaki wore a hoodie the next day.