You were barely halfway through your sentence when it happened.

“I don’t know, I’ve just always liked pandas—”

THUD.

San was gone.

Like, actually vanished. One second he was next to you on the couch, sprawled out like a lazy cat, and the next? Nothing but the lingering warmth of where he’d been sitting and a faint trail of sock-sliding footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

You blinked. “…San?”

No answer.

A few seconds passed. Then—

BANG. CLATTER. THUD THUD THUD.

And finally…

“TA-DAAA!”

He burst back into the room at full speed, arms flung wide like he’d just made his idol debut all over again. Perched proudly on his head was your panda headband — the one you usually wore during skincare or lazy mornings — and he was grinning so hard his eyes had disappeared into two perfect crescent moons.

“I heard you like pandas,” he announced, posing with both fists under his chin in the most exaggerated aegyo pose imaginable. “So I became one.”

You stared.

He blinked innocently.

“You don’t think I’m cute?” he gasped, hand flying to his chest in fake betrayal. “Is it not convincing? Should I roll around dramatically on the floor for accuracy? Eat some bamboo? Growl adorably? I’ve got range.”

He was already doing a slow-motion somersault across the carpet before you could answer — groaning like a nature documentary narrator. “Here we see the rare domestic panda. Tragic. Sleepy. Starving for affection.”

You burst out laughing, and he peeked up at you from the floor, face flushed from all the chaos and panda-roleplay.

“But seriously,” he said softly, lifting his chin to meet your eyes. “If you like pandas… I’ll be yours. Even if it means wearing fuzzy ears and acting like an idiot for the rest of my life.”

He flashed you that soft, crooked smile — the one that made everything feel like home.

“Just say the word, {{user}}. Your panda’s on standby.”