Losing Paddington

She opens the box, and her apprehension melts away into pure and spontaneous joy. She takes out Paddington squealing girlishly. He is mildly surprised and rather attracted as she bubbles and babbles over Paddington. He hadn't figured her for the type to lose her head over a stuffed toy, although he must confess that Paddington is remarkably cute.
Half an hour ago, they'd been laughing and fooling around over coffee, dinner, credit cards and a bottle of mineral water. Her face, lit by the soft, flickering glow of candlelight, her eyes, as always sparkling with barely surpressed laughter and emotion. So, so alive.
Right now, she's alive as well, with her whole being. She's forgetting to mute down her enthusiasm for life in front of him. She's breathtakingly beautiful. She finally remembers, and looking him in the eye, thanks him almost formally, saying its the bestest gift in the world.
They walk in silence along the pavement, now past a darkened park - there seems to be a fountain in there somewhere - then turning off eventually into the driveway up to her uni. Bemused, mutual silence sits heavily but calmly on their shoulders, shoulder to shoulder on the steps of the park, waiting for her mum to show up to take her home. They're both a little shell-shocked, for completely different reasons. Retrospectively, he realises this might have been the perfect moment to take her hand, or lean over and kiss her. Right now, he just wants to sit next to her, and feel the warmth she's giving off, hear her breathing. Right now, he is content to enjoy the silence of the night with her. Before he flies away. He's still trapped in the "last moments" mentality, the impact of what he's done hasn't hit him yet, and he's feeling slightly surreal. Things seem bittersweet, and he's extremely lost and confused.
Headlamps shine on them, and her mom steps out of the car. A puzzled, almost suspicious glance at the two kids sitting close to each other waiting for her. He's about to excuse himself and leave, walk back alone when she offers him a lift back.
Moonlit car-ride in silence. She doesn't say much, her mom is a statue of silence. She reaches back and undoes the clips holding up her hair, and the braids come apart. The car stops, and she turns back, long hair straggling wildly over her face, framing it lovingly on both sides. There's something in her eyes which he hasn't seen before, and it's sadness. Almost a wistfulness. And he realises that maybe it's a reflection of his own sadness and wistfulness. He wishes he could reach out and touch her face, frozen for that moment in time in his mind. A moment of utter beauty, and utter sadness. His heart breaks as he steps out of the car and shoulders his silly blue bomber jacket. Earlier in the day, she'd offered to carry it for him despite his feeble protests. Paddington-in-a-box is gone now, though, and everyone seems to have grown up a little.
He spends a long time sitting by the window in his cheap, higher-level bunk bed later that night, looking out at nothing in particular, and trying to clear his mind to stop it being overwhelmed by sadness.