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"You're a fan of volleyball?"
The voice had come from behind where Hanamaki was perched on one of the many bar side stools, shallow, empty liquor glass in hand.
He turned in his spot, to be faced by quite possibly the most breathtaking man he'd ever encountered. He stood at what seemed to be a little over six feet, probably not much taller than Hanamaki himself, a head of thick black curls, and a set of, just as thick, eyebrows to accompany it. On anyone else they'd seem almost out of place, but they complimented the bartender's face quite well.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I startle you?"
"Ah, no need to apologise," Hanamaki stuttered, curse this stunning stranger, "I, uh, yeah, I actually have a friend who plays for one of the teams."
If he was being honest, it was the only reason Hanamaki had gone to that bar rather than his regular with Yahaba, he'd heard that they housed a new model television, which they often streamed life olympic events on, and he couldn't miss this game for the life of him, he'd promised to watch it.
("I'm going to beat that shrimp you better watch it."
"Right, sure.")
"No way!" handsome stranger seemed awfully delighted at his new found information, "I actually know the Japan team's trainer!"
Soft jazz played softly in the distance, the squeaking of trainers sounding from the tv set, as Hanamaki sat in awe, admiring the black haired man's dazzling smile. By God, how was it possible to be just so perfect?
"Takahiro Hanamaki." The pink haired man stated, setting down his glass to extend a hand towards the other.
"Issei Matsukawa." He replied, an aforementioned eyebrow raised in slight confusion, yet bright smirk-like smile still painted onto his face, as he shook his hand.
"Drink?" Matsukawa enquired, pointing to the disregarded glass.
"Please."
With that he turned on his heals, busying himself in retrieving a whisky on ice for Hanamaki.
The game continued as Hanamaki watched Matsukawa ready the drink, in, admittedly childish, admiration.
As he turned back to the screen showing the ongoing game between Japan and Argentina, he managed to catch Oikawa yapping away about something to one of his new teammates, he really did miss the bastard, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.
"So, who was it you were saying you knew?"
"Ah, shit!"
"God, I'm so sorry, I really need to stop creeping up on you, oh here's your drink." Matsukawa said, sliding the, now refilled glass, in Hanamaki's direction as he took it in his grip, taking a long swig.
"It's fine," he insisted, noting the guilt in the others look, "uh it's that one, the one I know, number 13 for Argentina, Tōru Oikawa." He pointed to the man, who was now getting an ear full from his coach, deciding to hide his smile by taking another sip of his beverage.
"Ah yeah, I heard he was a monster back in high school, and then just went off radar after his team didn't make it to nationals."
Hanamaki's smile faded into a sigh as he set his glass back onto the bar, "Yeah, we went to high school together, played together for a few years way back when, lost, and then he disappeared off to Argentina after graduation."
"Shit you used to play in high school? So did I, me and Iwaizumi used to play together, but he went off to California with that Ushijima from Shiratorizawa after we graduated, man, what a small world, you know, I'm surprised we never ended up playing eachother."
Hanamaki just hummed in agreement as Matsukawa was called over to a table by an older salaryman. It must've been getting late, considering the lack of patrons in the bar, although it was October afterall, so the increasingly decreasing temperatures likely doesn't bring in the most customers.
"Hey," Matsukawa began as he slid back to hid previous position, a glad yet heightening look of worry in his face, "I get off shift in like, ten minutes, and I know you were here to watch the game and all, but I know a place not far from here that will have it playing on the tv they have," his scowl grew deeper in his face as he finally made eye contact with Hanamaki, "basically, I'm asking if you want to go and get something to eat with me, that is if you haven't ate already."
Hanamaki just stared, possibly for too long once again, as he watched Matsukawa's face contort into a somewhat deeper scowl, a swooping feeling of shock but also joy bubbling in his chest. Had he really just been asked out by the gorgeous bartender of all people?
"Oh- Oh of course."
He watched as Matsukawa's shoulders deflated in relief, "Oh thank God, I got really worried you were homophobic or something for a minute there," he laughed lightly, "I'll just go and get my things, meet you out front in five?"
Hanamaki just nodded in return, sure that he was now beet red, hoping the dim lighting of the bar hid it from view, although grinning a little more as Matsukawa slipped through the side door labelled "staff only".
At that Hanamaki gathered together his belongings, beginning to put on his coat and scarf as he made his was out of the bar's entrance.
By the time he'd managed to fit his coat on, and cover the rest of his neck by his soft scarf, stepping through the door, he was greeted by Matsukawa stood waiting, wrapped in a long brown trench coat, a grey woolen hat placed on his head, careful not the mess up his curls, and a leather messenger bag slung over his right shoulder.
As Hanamaki approached him he noticed the soft blush dusted across Matsukawa's nose and cheek bones.
"Ah, you're ready," He said peering at the sightly shorter man, "let's go, it's just this way."
Yeah, this was going to be fun.