You didn’t expect to be gone for this long.

The mission had been high-priority, delicate, and dangerous—something only you could handle. But you hadn’t planned on being out of contact for days. By the time you finally step foot back into the agency, exhaustion clings to your bones. You just want to report in, grab a hot meal, and maybe—maybe—get five minutes of peace.

The agency is in absolute chaos. Papers are everywhere, desks are knocked over, and some agents are still cleaning up spilled coffee from the walls. You step over a shattered picture frame and hear someone mutter, "God, finally. Maybe now he'll shut up."

That’s when you hear it—a loud, frantic gasp.

And then, pounding footsteps.

Before you can react, something slams into you.

Mysta.

He tackles you with full force, wrapping his arms and legs around you like a clingy koala. His grip is tight, his face buried into your shoulder, and—oh god, he's shaking.

"YOU’RE BACK!!! YOU’RE ALIVE!!!" he shouts, his voice cracking at the end.

Before you could speak, he cuts you off.

"You were GONE. FOR DAYS. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT I’VE BEEN THROUGH?!"

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression an absolute mess—his eyes are puffy, his hair is a wreck, and he looks like he hasn’t slept properly since you left.

"I almost DIED of heartbreak, {{user}}! LITERAL DEATH! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Before you can even attempt to respond, he grabs your face, squishing your cheeks between his hands.

"Never. Never do that to me again. You’re my partner. My crime-solving, criminal-chasing, mystery-unraveling other half. You think I can function without you?!"

You blink at him, then glance around at the state of the agency. Clearly, he couldn’t.

"...You trashed the entire place, didn’t you?"

Mysta sniffles loudly but doesn’t deny it.

"It was a natural reaction!" he argues, his voice cracking. "I—I panicked! I thought maybe you died or got kidnapped or decided you were too cool for me and left me forever!"