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Across the room and outside the sliding glass doors into the relative darkness outside, Hanamaki spies a familiar head of tangled black hair. Matsukawa's nodding along minutely along to the deafening thrum of the dance music Oikawa always insists on playing at house parties. Hips winding, Hanamaki twists through the tipsy crowds, ignoring the hands of boys and girls alike trying to pull him into various dances.

Matsukawa is wearing striped blue board shorts and an obnoxiously low-cut muscle tank. He's just sitting on the edge of the swimming pool under a tree adorned with fairy lights, seemingly oblivious to everything around him as his curls blow in the breeze. (Why, Hanamaki thinks to himself, heart fluttering a little, does he always look like he's just been fucked?). The pink-haired boy takes a final, long drag from the blunt clutched between his fingers before presenting it right under Matsukawa's nose, chuckling at the way Matsukawa flinches back in surprise, the glowing orange tip reflected in his eyes. With a smile, he smokes the last of the joint, patting the space next to him for Hanamaki to sit down. Slipping out of his dirty white sneakers, Hanamaki dangles his feet in the water and leans his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.

"You always show up to parties stoned, don't you?" Matsukawa murmurs.

A toothy grin slowly stretches across Hanamaki's face, "Hmm. Yeah. Feels good. Feels dank."

"Disgusting, terrible man," Matsukawa deadpans, even as he peppers the top of Hanamaki's head with kisses.

Neither of them speaks for a few minutes, but the way the darkness bleeds into the sky and the ripples permeate the surface of the pool, it could have been longer. They listen to the chirping of the cicadas nearly drowned out by the sounds of the pumping bass and revelling partygoers before Hanamaki, being Hanamaki, gets bored and proceeds to splash water on Matsukawa.

"Dicklord! You asshole!" Matsukawa wipes his face off and squirms away as Hanamaki cackles and kicks his legs in amusement.

"You think that's so funny, huh?" Matsukawa growls, but he's laughing too, "well, how do you feel about this?" - and, fisting into the fabric of Hanamaki's loose t-shirt, drags forward.

Hanamaki barely has time to bellow out a belated "SAVE ME HOLY LORD!" before he goes tumbling into the chlorinated depths. Scowling, he bobs back up to the surface, hair plastered against his forehead and lips twisted in his signature babyish pout.

Joining him in the water, Matsukawa plants a kiss on those pink lips and comments, "The holy lord can't save you now, you gay fiasco," causing Hanamaki's pout to stretch into a wrinkle-nosed grin.

"I'm the gay fiasco? You just pushed me in the pool, probably because you were desperate to see this-" he gestures to his entire body- "soaking wet."

"Well," Matsukawa hums, nuzzling Hanamaki's jawline, "you're not entirely wrong."

With a devious smirk, Hanamaki shoves Matsukawa off him, only to peel his t-shirt off, then swim forwards again to press himself against Matsukawa's chest, arms wrapping around those broad shoulders. Feet skimming the floor of the pool, Hanamaki licks into his mouth, swallowing the quiet moan Matsukawa lets slip. The temperate water gently laps at their shoulders, catching at the dips of their collarbones. They finally pull away from one another, and Hanamaki feels the blood coursing through his veins and setting him alight as his lips part from Matsukawa's with a soft pop.

"You two, stop gaying up the party!" Oikawa coos at them as though he isn't borderline groping Iwaizumi's biceps as he speaks. Shaking his head, Matsukawa climbs over the edge of the pool and mutters out a disgruntled “you're one to talk. 

Still treading water, Hanamaki makes the mistake of looking up, and is smacked in the face with the image of Matsukawa where he sits back on the edge of the pool, trading quips with Iwaizumi while Oikawa squawks indignantly in the background. Rivulets of water run down Matsukawa's neck, trickling on to his partially bared chest, the outline of which is sinfully defined by the sopping wet shirt clinging to his skin. The numerous fairy lights strung up on the trees are reflected in his eyes, glittering like constellations in the warm darkness of his irises, becoming obscured when he closes his eyes for that genuine laughter few people have the privilege to see. Hanamaki's gaze travels upwards to where Matsukawa's hair, still wet, curls sweetly on to his forehead and sticks up in all directions at the back where he runs his hands through it. 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Hanamaki presses his cool hands against his burning cheeks, and chalks his inappropriate gazing up to being a little stoned. A few moments later, and he's in the midst of intently observing how his feet look comically tiny due to the water's distortion when Matsukawa drags his focus back with a light smack on the head.

"Ow - Issei-" Hanamaki rubs the spot dolefully, "you're so mean to me! Your own boyfriend! I don't deserve this."

“Come on, you big baby,” Matsukawa says, gripping his upper arms to help pull him out of the pool, cursing when Hanamaki accidentally punches him in the nose.

“Oh, fuck – ‘m sorry, Issei,” Hanamaki apologises, and he looks so genuinely remorseful that Matsukawa has to laugh and kiss his cheeks. Leaning in close, he squishes Hanamaki’s soft cheeks between large hands, before stealing a quick kiss and murmuring “mochi face”.

“Hey, watch it, pal,” Hanamaki squints through his vision, slightly fuzzy around the edges, “watch who you’re calling ‘mochi face’. I’ll have you know I could singlehandedly smash you. I won’t, because you’re my boyfriend and I’m quite partial to your face, but – just know I could.”

“Yeah, sure you could, Superman. That’s evident from your earlier display of strength”.

Petulant and dripping wet, Hanamaki lets Matsukawa swaddle him in a towel, then take his hand to lead him away from the party, away from the pumping music, and away from the throngs of people. Matsukawa, being a man of relatively few words (in stark contrast to Hanamaki’s own constant chattering and eagerness to demonstrate machismo), only hums quietly to himself as they follow the fairy lights strung across the trees. As the backdrop of the party grows ever quieter, so Hanamaki’s ears pick up the gentle swelling rush of the ocean tides drawing closer. A cool breeze washes over him and he shivers, drawing the towel tighter around himself. Matsukawa, predictably, doesn’t seem affected by the chilly seaside air, which probably has something to do with his status as a Human Toaster (affectionately dubbed so by Hanamaki). Noticing Hanamaki’s discomfort, however, Matsukawa pulls him closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders and playfully nuzzle his temple.

“Oooh, Mr. Issei, oooh!” Hanamaki coyly bats his lashes up at Matsukawa and pretends to squirm in his grasp, “are you trying to seduce me?”

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Matsukawa huffs a sigh, but laughs anyway. Slowly, he slides his hand lower until he squeezes Hanamaki’s ass, causing Hanamaki to squeak and turn pink.

“You are trying to seduce me, I knew it! What do you want – a handjob? A blowjob?” Stopping in his tracks, Hanamaki pauses to consider this, and then continues, “Well. I’ll give you a blowjob right now if you really want”.

“No lie, I’m always down for a blowjob, but -” Matsukawa raises a hand to cut off Hanamaki’s delighted gasp “- I had something a little different in mind”.

Eyeing his boyfriend a little reproachfully, Hanamaki mutters, “You never let me have any fun,” before continuing to follow Matsukawa to the beach.

Lacing their fingers together, he wonders if there will ever be a point where a mere touch of Matsukawa’s skin doesn’t send sparks flying from the point of contact, or doesn’t set his stomach fluttering. The ocean breeze picks up again, lifting stray curls from Matsukawa’s forehead, and Hanamaki marvels that he ever got so lucky. It always seems that the time they spend together passes so quickly, and his biggest fear is that time eventually running out. He thinks back to their third year of high school, when they had fallen in love fast and hard. The six or so years since then have passed in a heartbeat, merging together to form a scintillating montage of heated nights, buried deep within one another, and a happiness so profound it’s almost heart-breaking.

Subconsciously, his hand tightens in Matsukawa’s, and sensing that something may be amiss, Matsukawa quickly squeezes his hand back in return. The sensation grounds Hanamaki, and the reassurance, combined with the salty air, help to clear his mind somewhat.

As they approach the seashore, the moonlight glinting off the water grows ever brighter, glimmering silver amidst the velvety ink of the surrounding night. Another silvery twinkle in his peripheral vision catches his attention, and he turns to see Matsukawa knelt on the sand, visage moonlit and achingly stunning. Jaw dropping before he can stop it, Hanamaki is speechless as Matsukawa gently slides the ring on to his fourth finger.

“Hanamaki Takahiro,” he begins, pressing his lips to Hanamaki’s fingers, “… shit. I had a speech planned and everything but I just. Fuck. You’re so – beautiful, and I love you so, so much, you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and – more… will you- ” but before he can finish, Hanamaki is already nodding, tears spilling past his heavy lashes and on to his cheeks.

“Come here, you hot mess,” Hanamaki chuckles through his tears, pulling Matsukawa up by the collar to press warm, wet kisses against those divine lips. Laughing shakily, Matsukawa leans back ever so slightly to murmur, “So, will you? Will you marry me, Takahiro?”

Yes! God, yes!” Hanamaki gasps, kissing a lifetime’s worth of desire, devotion, and tenderness into his mouth. Letting the towel slip off his shoulders and fall forgotten to the sand, he wraps his arms around Matsukawa’s shoulders, burying his face into the crook of his neck. A thousand lifetimes pass in a matter of minutes before the two men finally part, too shy to catch each other’s gaze.

“You were right,” Hanamaki hiccups, fingers carding through Matsukawa’s hair, “this is way, way better than a blowjob”.

When Matsukawa bursts into laughter, Hanamaki fancies he can see the kaleidoscope of an infinite life unfold and show him all the colours of a brand new world.