A token

Crowbar had worked hard.
For three days he had spent all his free time hunched over his desk, glancing back and forth from reference books and how-to guides to his secret project.
He wanted everything to be perfect.
Finally, with his fingers full of needle pricks and his desk a clutter of books and fabric, it was ready.

He found Die in the library, absorbed in some dusty old tome. He almost decided not to disturb him, but in the end was too excited to wait.
Standing right in front of his chair, hands clutching the small object behind his back, he said softly, "Die?"
The addressed jumped a bit at this sudden break of the silence, but seeing who it was brought a small smile to his face. Die stood up quickly, asking what was needed.
"Nothing," Crowbar replied. "I don't need anything, I just wanted to give you...this."
He held out the present.
It was a doll. A small, white, hand-stitched doll similar to the one Die always carried around, except this one bore a maroon seven emblazoned on its chest.
"Just a little token I made for you," Crowbar explained, placing it in Die's hands.
Die withdrew his hands slowly and examined the doll at an even slower pace, turning it over, touching it, poking it, even smelling it.
It was probably the worst seamwork, most lopsided sewing, roughest edges, and overall worst craftsmanship he had ever seen.
It was also without a doubt the nicest present he had ever received.
He moved his gaze from the gift to Crowbar's anxious face.
"Do you like it?" Die seemed blank and unreadable. He was terrified that it wasn't good enough, that he had done something wrong.
He was caught very off guard as Die threw himself onto him for a bone-crunching hug.
"I love it," he whispered into Crowbar's ear. "And I love you."