#vemodalen

             Oikawa wasn’t the most sentimental guy, but seeing as you were currently in an exchange program far away in America, he got, well, a little sentimental; if one could call it that. Nah. He was just...sad. He missed you, a lot. Of course, he demanded you text and call everyday, but most importantly, send him pictures. He really missed your smile. 

              He adjusted his glasses and scrolled through the photos on his phone. He was just sitting on the couch, legs hoisted up on the other cushions. The boy gave a chuckle as he saw a photo of you. He remembered taking it. You had just finished studying for a huge exam and you had fallen asleep. With one arm on the desk with your head on it and the loosely holding a pencil, he took a photo to capture it. The soft glow of the lamp, the dark room with a darkening sky in the background. 

               Another swipe. He reached the next one. It was of you, of course, and you were very much awake in this one. The photo itself was bright and joyful, just radiating the happiness of the moment. It had been during your birthday. He had taken you to a fancy restaurant for lunch this was taken on the walk back to the car. Your face was flushed and you had the biggest grin on your face. Oikawa let out a little laugh. He very clearly remembered you had just scolded him for being so childish, but you had laughed when he insisted, quote, “I love your face when your angry”. 

                   He scrolled down his photos, most of them of you. And he saw the time fly by. Hundreds of smiles, sleepy eyes, the happiest of times, all in photos. Each photo had a date, each one a memory. Yeah, he felt pretty sentimental. A certain photo caught his eye. It was darker than the rest. He clicked on it, waiting for the HD to load, and then his eyes widened. Every photo had brought back a memory, but none so strongly as this. 

                    It was just you. A dark sky, a balcony railing, a glowing city, and...fireworks. Big, beautiful fireworks. He had captured it when you turned around to face him. He recalled scolding you for turning around in his “moody” picture. He took the photo and didn’t look at it again. But now? He fully took it in. Wind blowing carefully rustling through your hair, big, bright eyes, that reflected the fireworks behind you. He remembered kissing you right after. Well, more like you kissed him. He had been scolding you childishly when you cut him off. Your soft lips had met his. And he melted, fully, and he thought the fateful words. I love you. Now he missed you more than ever. The boy slowly lifted two fingers to his lips and then to the phone screen, sending you love. There may be a million photos like this one, like all of the photos he had, but none would be quite like this. A part of him felt frustrated by this, but he knew nothing could really replace that feeling, nothing could replicate it. 

                    He flipped to messages and quickly type you a message. 

                 Hey

                 What’s up? you responded quickly. 

                 I love you, just thought you should know. 

                  And he put his phone down, smiling, thinking of how you may respond. A ping and he picked up the phone again.