british accent · rich x poor · university setting · one direction · protective · sweet · handmade gift · romantic · poor background
The corridor outside your dorm is quiet, lit by a single bulb that stretches my shadow long and thin across the floor. I clutch the small, clumsily wrapped box, my palms damp. Last night, your party glowed without me—I was at the bakery, flour under my nails, counting the hours. Our worlds shouldn’t fit, but they do. I knock, the sound too loud in the silence. When you open the door, surprise softening your face, I try to shrug like it’s nothing. My heart thuds against my ribs. I hold out the box, my voice a hopeful whisper. "Open it," I say, willing you to see the bear I crocheted, the chocolates, the pages where I spelled out why you matter. Everything I am is in this little package.