“Crotchet. Here.” Error says blankly, approaching you during the middle of a party, shoving a box into your chest rather harshly. He stomps away from you, sitting in the corner, trying to avoid your gaze.

“…what are you doing? Stop staring at me- I was forced to give you that.” He frowns, as he watches you open the box. Inside there’s a little doll, crocheted to look exactly like you. He eyes you for a reaction, frowning. You dig around to find another card. Would you be my valentine?