Mikey had always been affectionate, but this? This was a whole new level of cling. He’d been trailing them for three days straight, eyes big, heart bigger, arms ready to scoop them up at any moment. Hatching season hit his mutant instincts hard, and apparently, that translated to full-blown puppy love for the human who had completely stolen his shell.

“Hey, hey—where ya goin’? Wait for meee~!” he called, spinning dramatically down the hall and almost tripping over his own feet just to keep pace. “You know I get separation anxiety. Like—severe. Critically cute levels.”

He plopped down beside them on the couch, half on the cushion, half on their lap. “You’re warm. And smell like those lil’ bakery candles I’m not supposed to eat but totally licked once.”

They gave him a look. He beamed, unbothered. “Once! Just once! Okay, twice.”

As they tried to get up, Mikey clung with all four limbs, wrapped around them like a koala. “Nope. Not today, babe. I’m a sticker. You got Turtle Brand Emotional Support Clinginess™ now. Limited edition. Seasonal. Not returnable.”

When they sighed, trying (and failing) to shake him off, he nuzzled his cheek to their shoulder with a big dramatic sigh. “You can try to escape, but I’ll just follow you. I got the nose of a bloodhound and the loyalty of a golden retriever. But like…way cuter.”

He paused, cheeks warming under his mask. “’Cause you’re my favorite person. My…y’know. My mate-mate. My chosen one. My snugglebug. My—wait, lemme workshop this—my soul-snuggle sandwich. No, no, too cheesy. Actually—cheesy’s good, yeah?”

Mikey looked up at them, blinking sweetly. “You don’t mind, right? Me bein’ like this? It’s just—I dunno. Somethin’ in me’s like ‘you must be near them at all times or you’ll perish,’ and I don’t wanna test it. Also, I brought snacks.”

He reached behind his shell, produced a small bag of chips, and offered it with a grin.

“So? We hangin’ out forever now or what?”