But I Believe In You And Me

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/3242060.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Relationship: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Character: Hanamaki Takahiro, Matsukawa Issei
Additional Tags: Established Relationship
Stats: Published: 2015-01-27 Words: 1108

But I Believe In You And Me

by tookumade

Summary

Hanamaki would be eighteen soon. It wasn’t as though he expected things to be

much different from being seventeen, but still, he would only be eighteen once
so he might as well try to enjoy it, even if he was fighting with one of the
people he cared about the most.

(or, a Hanamaki birthday fic, but he and Matsukawa are stubborn and childish doofuses)

Notes

*dashes in 2 hours late in my timezone, trips over half the furniture in the room,
commando-rolls very badly over a worn-out rug, bangs shoulder against a chair* HAPPY—
*wheeze*—BIRTHDAY—*wheeze*—HANAMAKI! \o/

January 26th had been a bad day for Hanamaki, which was really not something he needed leading
up to his birthday the next day.

He had had a fight with Matsukawa—a disagreement during lunchtime over something stupid
relating to their English project. Somehow, it had got out of hand, and they had reduced themselves
to raising their voices at each other with genuine anger, and their usually unmalicious “dumbass!”
insults had far more bite than usual. They might have even taken it up a notch, if not for Iwaizumi
and Oikawa grabbing Hanamaki and Matsukawa respectively and hauling them away from each
other for a bit of cool-down time.

Urgh, he didn’t want to think about it anymore. It hadn’t been anything worth fighting over in the
first place, and the way they had both reacted was so embarrassing and petty.

Hanamaki tossed a volleyball up and down restlessly as he sat in his room. He and Matsukawa had
completely avoided looking at each other during their shared fifth period Japanese class, and then
walked home separately. He hated that; they usually walked home together as often as they could,
because it felt right, and it was a part of their day that they both enjoyed. Walking together meant
that they could also huddle and hold hands as they walked (and throw snow at each other every
now and then, or just scuffle playfully for the hell of it), which made the biting cold weather a little
more bearable. Walking by himself today made the journey home seem longer and quieter and
definitely colder than usual.

The thought of apologising came to mind more than once, but he wasn’t sure how. They hadn’t
ever fought like this, so he had no point of reference to go by. He had overheard Iwaizumi tell
Oikawa (who hadn’t seemed all that worried either, now that Hanamaki thought about it) that, “It’s
okay, they’re simple-minded idiots, they’ll be fine”, but that didn’t really help them, and what the
hell was he even talking about, anyway?

Hanamaki stopped tossing the volleyball and stared at his phone beside him. He could call
Matsukawa up and say sorry, but he didn’t want the apology to be insincere, because truth be told,
he was still feeling a little annoyed—both at Matsukawa and at himself for being such a brat.

He threw the volleyball against the wall, and a second later heard his mother shout “No sports
indoors, Takahiro!” and he decided to go to sleep.

Hanamaki tucked himself into bed and pulled the covers around him snugly. It was close to
midnight now (he had done a lot of sulking over that dumbass Matsukawa this evening), and he
watched as his digital clock’s numbers drew closer and closer. He’d be eighteen soon. It wasn’t as
though he expected things to be much different from being seventeen, but still, he would only be
eighteen once so he might as well try to enjoy it, even if he was fighting with one of the people he
cared the most about.

His clock read midnight. It was the 27th. He was now eighteen, and–

His phone was ringing.

Squinting through the darkness, he grabbed it off his bedside table and stared at the screen.
Matsukawa was calling him.

Hanamaki wasn’t entirely sure why, because he wasn’t sulking as much anymore, but he rejected
the call anyway. Freshly eighteen, but still stubborn as hell. He’d have to grow out of it soon–

His phone rang a second time, and it was Matsukawa again, and without really thinking, Hanamaki
rejected the call and immediately regretted it. What was he calling for at this time? With curiosity
getting the better of him, Hanamaki made to call him back before receiving a text message.

From: Matsukawa Issei

12:01am: [ I’m outside, can you come out, it’s really cold ]

“Oh my god,” Hanamaki hissed and switched on his room’s lights, and changed into thicker pants
and sweaters and a heavy coat. He wrapped a scarf around his neck as he made his way through the
house and outside, and sure enough, Matsukawa was standing there, shivering, with one hand in his
coat pocket and the other hand clutching something Hanamaki couldn’t see.
“Are you kidding me?” said Hanamaki, squinting at him with more annoyance than he usually
would. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait until–”

“Happy birthday.” Matsukawa handed him the thing he was holding: a neatly wrapped profiterole
from Hanamaki’s favourite bakery.

Hanamaki stared at it, then stared at Matsukawa, then stared back at the profiterole, then back at
Matsukawa.

“Seriously?” he spluttered. “You came all the way here in the middle of the night—in cold-as-shit
winter, by the way—just to give me this?”

Matsukawa shoved his now-free hand into his other pocket and dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Your eighteenth only comes once, and you’re going to get a crap-load of these from the others, so
I wanted to be the first,” he said quietly. “I could arm-wrestle everyone else to be first, but I don’t
think I would do that well.”

Hanamaki made a noise of disbelief and a gesture of exasperation, and he felt any remaining anger
at Matsukawa leave him entirely.

“Oh my god,” he said again. “Oh my god, you dumbass, come here.” And he pulled Matsukawa
close and put his arms around his neck, still holding onto his favourite snack. Matsukawa wrapped
his arms around his waist, and they stood there in silence for a while. It had only been half a day
since their fight, but those twelve hours seemed to have stretched on for a much longer time, and
they realised now that they already missed each other.

“I thought we were still fighting,” Hanamaki mumbled into Matsukawa’s shoulder.

Matsukawa winced. “Still?”

“I guess not.”

“I mean, we can, because I still think Nagao-sensei said–”

“No. No, no, no,” said Hanamaki, but he knew from his tone that Matsukawa was joking, and he
grinned a little this time. “No more of that crap. I’ve decided I really hate fighting with you
—actually being angry at you—more than anyone else, so… I’m sorry. We’ll handle things better
next time.”

Matsukawa buried his face a little deeper into his shoulder. “Yeah. I’m sorry too,” he murmured.
“We were really embarrassing. Oikawa was giving us judgmental looks.”

“Don’t remind me. Iwaizumi called us ‘simple-minded idiots’.”

“Oh my god, we really screwed up.”

They were laughing softly now, and it felt right, it felt warm, and the cold hardly bothered them.

“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”

Simple-minded idiots. Yeah, they were fine.

—————

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