There's a note and bright red box on the end of a shared bed, though the other occupant is probably elsewhere. Inside of it is a scrapbook of photos of you together, and (closer to the back) obviously old Polaroids of him as a child that don't move at all and are taken at weird and blurry angles. The attached note reads: "there are a lot blank pages for the rest of our lives; i can't wait to be old and looking back with you and being just as in love as i am now. your(s) dave"
John holds the scrapbook of pictures to their chest and doesn't even bother keeping the back the tears blooming at the corners of their eyes.
They have their own extra gift for Dave, to be given later, but for now they'll work on adding a few of their own baby pictures to the book too.
It's only afterwards that they finish wrapping up Dave's present: added to the picture and the letter, they also knitted a wand holder, with motivational messages sewn into it.
And obviously there are several kisses to be added to this package, to be delivered in person soon enough.
Gosh, John can't wait for the ball...
