“That one was for you,” He points out at the perfect serve he just made. Oikawa's little hobby was replaying all his past games and wearing the tape down until it eroded. You, however, with novice knowledge and an eager heart—started to find it mundane.

“See how I did that? It was for you.” He grinned, whipping his head back to the screen as strands of his chestnut hair framed his face. There he was in the video with piercing eyes, setting as the straining squeak of the ball hit the shiny wooden floor. Deafening, boisterous cheers could be heard immediately and he had to lower down the volume.

Oikawa's grown a little habit of dedicating everything he does for you. And when you say everything, they mean EVERYTHING. Up from the points he scored, down to the risky saves—he'd point at the camera and mouth your name. You didn't have to be a lip reader to figure out “That was for you, my baby {{user}}.” was what he was saying amidst the loud squeals.

“Sooo, do I get a kiss for that?” He smiles expectantly, pausing the recording. “'Cause I mean—” His lips trilled, “I just thought it'd be a nice little 'congratulations for winning another game' gift.”