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Rumi was used to the visions. The elation of seeing the future that they and their companions had, where they saved the world. Generally, when seeing the visions, though, it was more of a passive experience. They would watch it all unfold, and only truly get to react once they were back in their body, out of the visions. So it was no real surprise when they sat up in the middle of the night from a vision, turning to find Peter in their camp. It wasn’t until their mind kicked in that they started hyperventilating, curling in on themselves in an attempt to ground themselves here and not lose themselves in the vision. Flashes of what they saw plagued their mind. Bloody battlefields, their own blood, Peter’s blood covering them and the ground around them as he weakly clung to Rumi. Somehow, deep in their mind, Rumi knew that this was their fault. They didn’t react quick enough, didn’t strike hard enough at some crucial point, and now they paid the price.
They turned to look back towards Peter’s bedroll, only to see him turned over and facing Rumi, rubbing his eyes as he awoke.
“Rumi…? I thought I felt someone look at me. Are you…” Peter trailed off as he took in the sight before him, watching Rumi’s attempts to calm themselves and hide the evidence of the terror still wracking their body.
Rumi struggled to wipe their eyes, to will their breath to calm as they heard the soft rustle of Peter walking over to them and sitting beside them.
“May I…?”
Rumi looked up to see Peter in front of them, arm outstretched towards theirs.
“Of course, Peter. I am alright, though. Just a… bad dream I suppose. Couldn’t have been a vision, just a bad dream.” Rumi spoke the last part quieter, more to assure themselves than Peter.
They watched as Peter reached towards their hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss it just as Rumi had for him many times before. They felt, more than heard, the quiet murmur of, “It’s okay, I’m here,” from Peter against their knuckles. And then Peter pulled them forwards into his embrace, breath exaggerated as Rumi’s was still quite fast. It wasn’t as awkward as Rumi had expected, with the height difference and all. In fact, it felt quite nice to simply tuck their head into Peter’s shoulder and just breathe with him. The calming circles Peter was rubbing on their back certainly helped too.
Eventually, Rumi pulled away, more composed and ready to dispel any worries about what had just happened. Peter was still looking at them, concern and care etched so blatantly into his face that Rumi wondered if he was ever capable of hiding anything.
“Do you want to talk about what happened? Or…?” Peter still hadn’t let go of Rumi, even as they pulled back.
“It’s truly no big deal, I was just overreacting to a nightmare. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“But, Rumi, I want to. I want to be here for you.”
“I couldn’t bear to be a burden to you simply because I had a bad dream. Don’t let me interrupt your rest, please.”
Peter looked away from them as they said that, and Rumi could watch the slow procession of his brows knitting further together.
“You… Rumi you do know you’re not a burden, right? Like-” Peter sighed looking back into Rumi’s eyes with intent, “I’m here for you because I love you. You help me calm down when I have nightmares, I want to do the same for you.”
“Yes, but, well,” Rumi couldn’t look him in the eyes. It almost felt like they were letting Peter down to say this, “I’m a symbol of hope, of what is to come, what we can achieve. I need to lessen other’s worries, not add to them.”
“Rumi, I could go into a whole list of reasons as to why you don’t have to stress about worrying others by simply being afraid, but I don’t think you want to hear that whole rant right now,” Peter laughed at himself a bit, and Rumi was calm enough now to be able to crack a smile with him, “Just know that I’m not everyone else, okay? You don’t have to be perfect for me, you’re enough as you are. I’m here for you, I’ll take care of you.”
Rumi laughed at that for a moment, without any real humor in it, “It’s rotten work.”
Peter brought his hands up, gently cupping Rumi’s face as he looked into their eyes, “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”
Rumi looked into his eyes and they could see it, the truth held in Peter’s words, the depths to which he would go for Rumi, simply because it was them.
It was quick, a quiet sob that they couldn’t reign back in with everything else, the cracks in their armor showing, if for just a moment. And Peter held them, so close to his body, running his hands through their hair and whispering anything he could to help. Rumi couldn’t hear most of it, they were still focused on maintaining the bit of composure they had left, to keep up the image they projected. They didn’t come this far just to break now.
But then they heard what Peter was saying, the quiet assurances of, “It’ll be okay. I’m right here for you, and I will be here. I love you.”
And it was so simple, wasn’t it. Once that first crack formed, it was so easy for them to fall apart. And it felt a bit like losing, but it didn’t matter, not really. Not when Peter was here to hold the pieces of them together, to allow it to crack, but not completely fall apart. Broken things are not the end. It’s simply the start of something new. And Peter, in all of his sleep deprived, bedroll-rumpled glory, was that new beginning.
Sometimes, Rumi wondered why Peter was in their visions. They weren’t ungrateful for his presence in their life, absolutely not. They wouldn’t trade him for the world. But they understood now how he related to them specifically, more than just how they would save the world. They knew that Peter would be the one to lead them towards becoming the best they could be. But that didn't matter right now, not when Rumi was lying down in Peter's arms, cheeks dried of tears and body warmed by the other next to them. The rest of the world could wait while they were together. Perfection could wait.