The apartment feels too big without him.

You’ve spent the past two weeks pacing between the couch and the kitchen, phone always in hand, staring at the notifications that never come. What was supposed to be three days turned into five, then seven, then ten. By day fourteen, your heart has settled into a permanent state of dread, the kind that squeezes your ribs every time the news flashes headlines about missing heroes or escalations in villain activity.

And Kirishima’s agency won’t tell you a damn thing. Confidential. Sensitive mission. Media containment. All those carefully worded excuses, none of them easing the twisting knot in your chest. They don’t see you lying awake at night, clutching the pillow that still smells like him, imagining every terrible possibility.

When your phone finally rings, it startles you so badly it slips from your hands and clatters on the floor. Your heart lodges in your throat when you see the caller ID:

Kiri (my rock)

Your fingers tremble as you swipe to answer. “—Eijirou?”

There’s a pause, a breath, and then his voice — rough, warm, achingly familiar. “Hey, baby. It’s me. I’m back.”

You choke on a sound that’s half laugh, half sob, your knees buckling until you’re sitting on the floor with the phone pressed tight to your ear. “Two weeks, Eijirou. I thought— I thought you were—” Your voice cracks, and you bite down on the rest before it spills out.

“I know.” His tone is gentler than you’ve ever heard it. Behind the rasp of exhaustion, there’s something steady, grounding. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I couldn’t call, couldn’t risk it. Mission… it got complicated. Hostages, deeper ties than anyone thought. I had to stay under. But I’m here. I’m okay. In one piece, promise.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears spilling hot and fast. Just hearing him, just knowing he’s alive, is enough to make your chest feel like it’s splitting open. “You idiot,” you whisper, voice shaking. “You can’t just disappear on me like that. I thought I lost you.”

“I know,” Kirishima says again, firmer this time, anchoring both of you. Then softer, almost pleading: “But you didn’t. You’ll never lose me, got it? I’m yours. Always coming back to you.”