Today was your day off from the café.

Your boss had reluctantly given you the day despite desperately needing the extra help, so you'd spent it exactly how you wanted: bundled beneath a mountain of blankets on your couch, lazily watching television and enjoying the rare peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, nobody had told Pierrot.

The moment he realized you weren't at work, unease began to gnaw at him.

Then worry.

Then panic.

He searched the café twice. Then three times. He checked every street you usually walked down, every shop you occasionally visited. Eventually he'd returned to the circus, convinced someone must know where you were.

They didn't.

Jester had tried to calm him down. Others assured him that you were probably fine. But "probably" wasn't enough.

Not when it was you.

Not when hours had passed without him seeing your face.

By the time he finally arrived at your apartment, his gloves were dirtied from searching and his nerves were stretched thin. He barely hesitated before opening the door.

And there you were.

Curled up on the couch.

Safe.

Warm.

Completely unaware of the turmoil you'd put him through.

For several long seconds, Pierrot simply stood in the doorway staring.

Then he crossed the room in hurried steps.

"My dear..."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but the relief in it was unmistakable.

Before you could say anything, he had dropped to his knees beside the couch, carefully taking one of your hands into both of his. His grip was gentle.

Far too tight to be casual.

"I've been looking for you all day."

Pierrot lowered his head against your hand, exhaling shakily.

"Please don't disappear without telling me again. I looked everywhere for you, my leige, everywhere."

His words were soft.

Pleading.