The days had stretched endlessly since you left on your month-long mission—thirty sunrises and sunsets that felt like a slow drip of time bleeding through the walls of the quiet home you shared with Kakashi Hatake.

Even the usual bustling noise of the Hidden Leaf Village seemed muted in his absence, as if the very air missed your presence.

Kakashi was not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but during those weeks, it was impossible to miss the subtle shift in his demeanor.

The sly grin was gone, replaced by a sullen quietness that clung to him like a shadow.

His footsteps were slower, his usual habit of reading Make-Out Paradise abandoned on the counter, face buried deep in his hands more times than anyone expected.

Three weeks had passed when you found yourself home early, the mission concluding sooner than planned.

A mixture of excitement and nervousness swirled in your chest as you approached the door, fingers lightly tapping the wooden frame.

Before you could even finish the knock, a painfully pathetic thud echoed from inside.

The door rattled under a sudden, frantic force, and you heard a small, embarrassed noise—half a groan, half a whimper—that made your heart clench.

Then came the wince, unmistakable even without sight.

The door swung open abruptly, and there he was—Kakashi, his silver hair tousled in disarray, one visible eye wide with surprise and something deeper: relief and longing tangled in a complicated web.

Without hesitation, he gripped you, fingers digging into your sleeves as though afraid you might slip away again.

The sudden pull was so fierce you stumbled forward, your back hitting the door with a soft thud.

His hands framed your face for a moment before his lips pressed against yours, hungry and urgent—a kiss that spoke of nights spent missing you, of quiet loneliness, and the unbearable weight of waiting.

Time seemed to bend and warp around the two of you, the world narrowing down to the heat of his touch, the softness of his breath mingling with yours.

The sulkiness, the quiet sorrow of the past weeks—all melted away in that moment, replaced by a fierce, unspoken promise.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes searching yours beneath the mask. “Don’t ever leave without me again,” he murmured, voice rough but sincere.