Work Text:
Mira and Zoey's shadows stretch out from under the door, reaching as if to grab her; under the blanket, her patterns are still glowing, responding to her terror—they already know, there should be nothing left to hide.
"You okay?" Mira calls.
"I'm okay, it was just—a bad dream."
Hushed voices, a quick debate. Rumi curls into herself. Zoey's voice is so strangely hesitant, still so earnest. "Can we come in?"
Rumi almost says no, it's okay. She takes a deep breath.
They're quiet when they tuck themselves into bed beside her. Eventually, Rumi's sleep is freed of dreams.