A/N: I'm cringing rn but HAPPY VALENTINES DAY
"I-I like you!" she squeaked, ducking her head as she shoved a pink pouch towards the taller boy standing in front of her.
Here we go again, (Name) thought, rolling their eyes internally. They gave a glance to the boy beside them, looking for a reaction from the victim himself.
The raven-haired boy only looked at the pouch, not saying a word. The lenses of his golden-rimmed glasses flashed as he looked down at the gift, before tilting his head to look at the giver.
"I'm sorry," he sighed before gingerly pushing her outstretched arms away, along with the gift.
(Name) instantly felt sorry for the random student, for her face was as red as a tomato, and her eyes wide and glassy. "Oh," she stuttered, spluttering incoherent nonsense before running the opposite direction. The pink pouch was left forgotten on the side of the tiled pavement.
"That's the fourth one this morning," (Name) whistled, walking towards the ball of pink. "Couldn't you just... y'know, be more gentle with them?"
Their friend scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Why should I care? I don't even know them."
"Just be nicer for goodness sake," (Name) complained. "I'm not even the one being confessed to and I'm the one feeling bad."
"This is why you don't have many friends," they added, bending down to retrieve the fallen gift.
Said boy yelled in protest. "I have more friends than you."
(Name) ignored that.
"To Dylan," (Name) read aloud in their best Shakespearan accent. "Happy Valentines Day." Cue the overdramatic kissy noises from yours truly.
Dylan groaned at their antics, shoving their shoulder as he guided them along the pavement.
"Bro, she gave you 4 Ferrero Rochers!" (Name) said in awe, pulling out two golden balls stuck to brown patty cases. On top of the wrapped sweets were cute, little red ribbons tied into a bow. "Can I eat them? Pleaaaase?"
"Just eat it," their friend huffed. "It's better than throwing it into the bin."
He shook his head and walked ahead, leaving his childhood friend and sweetheart behind to their own devices.
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"Oi, Dylan, look at your desk," a classmate teased the prefect as he walked into the classroom. Lo and behold, a pile of sweets were left there, all with neat and dainty packaging. Some had hand-written notes attached to them while others were gifted by anonymous.
"You guys can have them," Dylan just replied, exasperated. The others whooped in joy as they attacked the pile like rabid wolves that hadn't eaten in days. A part of him was amused, while the other was annoyed, mostly with the person he was with a few minutes ago.
Four confessions. They saw him get four confessions, and did not react the way he wanted to in the slightest. If anything, it was the opposite. Instead of jealousy or envy, their eyes were eager, curious, dare he might say cheeky. Although they did appear bored by the fourth time, it was still not the reaction he wanted.
Dammit, he thought, slipping his hand into his pocket, feeling the neatly wrapped package inside, along with the smooth, silky feeling of the ribbon attached to it.
"I like you," five-year-old (Name) glomped five-year-old Dylan. The boy's knees buckled from the sudden weight, and both of them fell into a bed of tall grass.
