what you expect to be a lavinho jersey at the ready for you the next day is replaced by a familiar name gleaming in all white, the number 19 almost winking at you from the pearl vinyl.

you suppose you can't be too surprised—you think it's best anyway. you're there to support him after all. what does take you by surprise is how extensively large the jersey is... the hem of it reaching right above your knees.

"good morning, did you get it?" bunny asks first thing into the phone when you call him.

"yeah, but uh," you stare at your reflection in the mirror, the jersey looking more like a dress on you rather than shirt. "i think you got a size that's a bit too big."

the line is quiet for a moment, before bunny speaks up. "oh. i should've told you—that's one of my older jerseys. that's probably why."

you frown at his words, "you didn't get me a new one?"

it's only then that you can faintly smell the leftover cologne he wears on the collar of it, melded in with some laundry detergent that you can tell attempted to cover up the aroma of it.

"all my jerseys are sold out, i'm quite popular, you know," bunny remarks. although you can't see him, you know he's shrugging. "it can't be that bad. facetime me."

"... do i have to?"

"yes," he says without a beat to miss, "let me see you."

you're not one to refuse him, merely since you can't, really. he almost always gets his way—so you angle the camera towards your reflection at the mirror. it's not until the brief pause that indicated he picked up that you realize the jersey waterfalls over your sleep shorts—accidentally indicating that you could be—

bunny picks up after three brief rings before you have the chance to change to something more modest. he's lying in his bed lazily, camera angled down towards him and all his shirtless glory to your disdain. his hair is still messy, as though he had just woken up, with sleep still evident in his eyes.

though you can see they widen with interest when you come into view, especially at the view of your bare legs.

"i—" your breath gets hitched in your throat when you see him grin. "see. it's too big."

"really? i think it looks fine," he stretches his arm over behind his head, eyes studying you in his phone. you fight the urge to glance at the bulge of his bicep. asshole.

"bunny, it's too—"

"—perfect? yes, i agree," bunny finishes for you, chuckling at your frustration. "i've gotta go on my run now, but make sure to wear that on saturday, yeah? promise? you'll make me sad if you don't. i might lose the game."

you gawk when he lifts himself out of bed, his sheets rustling against the phone speaker. "hey! did you not hear me?"