I fought through Covid, cold meds, and a broken computer to produce this chapter, so I'm sorry for any mistakes I didn't catch. I wanted to put this out as soon as possible, so I didn't proofread it super closely either. I'm sorry for how late this is - I'm hoping to get back into the swing of writing and produce some new updates for this fic. I miss writing it so much.

I hope that everyone has a good new year!~

Mirajane frowned as she approached the guild master's door, spotting the untouched plate of food sitting in front of it. The cut apples were browned and the soup's noodles nearly disintegrated from sogginess. Fruit flies hovered around the apple slices. The sight of it concerned her (and not just from the coating of travel dirt from where Erza had clearly stepped over it when she'd paid a visit to Mystogan earlier). Now that the sun had set and she held in her hands a similarly light supper for the somewhat obviously overwhelmed new guild master, the fact that he hadn't consumed the previous fruits of her labor sat ill with her. Although the sight of Erza agonizing over paperwork had been deeply amusing and rather cathartic to watch, it wasn't quite enough to absolve Mystogan of this particular crime against food.

A couple of possibilities ran through her head as she contemplated the inedible offering in front of the closed door. Mystogan had definitely responded when she'd left it there in the first place, so either he'd forgotten entirely about it, or he just hadn't gotten hungry. Regardless, it indicated to her that he probably hadn't left the room at all in the hours since lunchtime and that he definitely hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Oscillating between irritation and concern fast enough to make Natsu motion-sick, Mirajane debated on whether to see if Mystogan was okay in his office or if she should just barge in and begin to lecture about not wasting food – especially since the budget for said food was now one of Mystogan's prime responsibilities (granted, she was managing it for the moment but it wasn't really her wheelhouse either nor her place to do so nor did she wish to indefinitely).

That was how Cana found her some minutes later, wallowing in her indecision. "Do I dare ask?" she muttered, glancing up and down at the barmaid, nearly standing on top of decaying food in front of a closed door.

The sound of Cana's voice snapped Mirajane out of her internal argument and back into the present moment. "Ah, Cana. Excellent timing."

Suspicion clouded Cana's face. "O-kaaay?" she tentatively agreed, though she took no steps closer in case she needed to escape.

"Can you knock on the guild master's door for me?"

What had been intended as a brief rest on the office couch swiftly turned into Mystogan completely passing out the second he was vaguely horizontal. He had shut his eyes for one second, and the next thing he knew it was morning again. Groggy, he stared blankly at the mess strewn about the office. The gentle rays of the early sun were… not improving the view. Somehow it looked worse than when he'd fallen asleep.

Every inch of him felt sticky with night sweat, but at least he wasn't wearing his mask. Although he couldn't quite recall having taken it off, it was a minor miracle he had. Mystogan might've suffocated in his sleep from the damn thing otherwise. Fearing a repeat of how Erza had barged in while he was unprepared, he hadn't wanted to take it off again. Honestly, just the thought that anyone could waltz in whenever they pleased wasn't doing his nerves any favors.

Mystogan blearily wiped his face. Pain struck his midsection, reminding him that he hadn't used the toilet in quite a while. With a groan, he pushed himself upright, only for a weight he hadn't previously noticed to slide off his chest. A dark green blanket pooled on his lap, the worn fabric thin in places but well taken care of despite its advanced age. It was an innocuous object, yet the sight of it tightened

Mystogan's chest.

He hadn't had that when he fell asleep. He was certain of it.

Someone had come in while he was asleep. His fear had been made a reality. Someone had come in and seen his unmasked face. Or worse, they had taken it off while he slept.

A feeling he couldn't quite name rose up inside him. Who was it that had come in? Who? Was it Erza, again? Mirajane? They'd seen him, seen his face. And he hadn't been able to do anything about it. His breath came in short bursts, his stomach roiled, and his head felt light. He felt... he felt...

He felt violated.

He needed to get out of this place. What had he been thinking, staying for even this long? He couldn't trust the other guild members to not violate his trust while he slept, so what was he even doing trying to take care of the guild affairs? This wasn't right. He hadn't wanted this. Not any part of it. It was unfair to expect so much from him, for him to put so much of himself into the work if he couldn't trust any of them. It wasn't fair. It wasn't.

Mystogan stood up from the couch. He would leave. Wasting time in this place where he couldn't feel safe just to take a nap on a couch wasn't something he could do anymore. Not when he had a duty elsewhere, to close the Anima portals. He didn't know the people of the guild, or who the other children had grown up to be, obviously. There was nothing for him at the guild. Nothing at all. It was time to go. To leave this place behind. It wasn't his problem if someone else had to run things. Laxus could have the dubious honor for all he cared. At least Laxus had made it clear in the past that he actually wanted the job. Unlike Mystogan.

Decision made, Mystogan looked around for his mask. Spotting it on the desk, he strode over to it and reached out to pick it up.

Then he spotted something else that hadn't been there before he fell asleep.

A plate sat on the desk beside the mask, full of hard crackers and a cup of cold tea beside it. Stuck to the plate was a note, full of small, neat handwriting.

Perplexed, Mystogan picked up the note, and began to read it.

Guild Master,

I noticed you did not eat the food I left at the door for you, and asked Cana to check on you for me. When she informed me that you had fallen asleep, I asked her to deliver this snack and drink to you. I hope you enjoy it, and that the blanket was comfortable. I asked Cana to make sure that you could breathe as well, and to remove your mask. I remained outside the office the entire time, I promise. I didn't think you would like me to see your face without your permission, but I thought Cana would be fine since she's already seen it. If I've overstepped, I apologize. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable. I imagine that it hasn't been easy for you being thrust into your new responsibilities, but please know that you have people on your side who are rooting for you.

Your friend,

Mirajane.

Tears, unbidden, dropped onto the note. The knots in Mystogan's stomach uncoiled and whatever strings that had been holding him up snapped, his body collapsing against the desk, the letter clutched tightly in his hands.

He'd been wrong. His wishes had been respected after all. There had been nothing to fear at all.

There were people here who truly did care about him.

Wrenching sobs were pulled from his throat as he allowed himself to fully sink to the floor. Curling in on himself Mystogan held tight to the physical affirmation of what he hadn't even fully realized he'd needed to hear so badly.

It hadn't been a mistake to stay. It hadn't been a mistake to care for his guildmates.

He was needed here.

It was some time before he was able to collect himself enough to finish reading the post scripts on the note, but when he did, a smile cracked his face.

P.S. It would really help if you could locate the stamp as soon as possible.

P.P.S. Also, please don't waste food by ignoring it in the future. If you don't want to eat, let me know and I'll make sure to wrap it up for you to eat later.

That stupid stamp. He was going to have to mount a full-scale hunt for it at this rate. No matter. It was part of his job to take care of it. An important part.

As for the not wasting food part… he supposed he had better start with the snack that had been left for him. The crackers, he soon discovered, were very salty. And the cold tea had long since turned a bit bitter.

It was the best thing he'd ever eaten.