He knew exactly why she was crying.He didn't need to ask.He didn't need an explanation.
Everything she had seen everything the dream-memory had shown her he felt it too the moment her hand touched his true form. He knew she didn't fully understand what she witnessed, not yet, but what he couldn't understand was why she was crying for him, hugging him so tightly, trembling as though his pain had become hers.
He didn't know how to process that.
It wasn't something he considered emotional. Not something he believed anyone would shed tears over. But he chose not to think too deeply about it. Not now.
"Allan… I'm sorry," she sobbed again, her voice breaking as she patted his back in that small, careful way that made something in his chest tighten.
He didn't push her away, Instead, he leaned in.
Just lightly. Just enough to feel the warmth of her around him. Enough to breathe.
Minutes passed, slow, quiet minutes before she finally gathered herself. Only then did she attempt to pull back, embarrassed by how tightly she had held him.
But the moment she tried to move, she froze.
She wasn't the one holding him.
He was the one with his arms wrapped around her, head resting on her chest like a child refusing to let go.
"A… Allan," she stammered, her voice soft, almost airy.
He hummed in response, as though asking why she called him.
"Um… I'm okay now," she whispered awkwardly.
"I didn't ask," he replied but his voice wasn't cold. It wasn't detached.
It was… warm, soft and homely.
The type of warmth she didn't even think he had.
She smiled internally, but she hid it well.
"I'm… sorry about holding you like that," she said quietly. "I was just emotional about something."
"I know," he answered simply.
But he didn't loosen his hold.
She cleared her throat. "Um… let go."
Her face blossomed with a light shade of red.
"No," he said, short and firm.
She frowned slightly. "Allan, what—"
"I feel better like this," he said calmly, still resting his head against her. "So just stay. Okay?"
Her lips parted.
She didn't know what to say to that.
Was he serious? Or was he teasing?
Did he actually mean it?
"Are you… serious?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
"Yes," he breathed.
She swallowed hard and simply nodded.
That was the last thing she said.
Because suddenly, her body felt… wrong.
Sleepy, too sleepy, dizzy, her head spinning, vision blurring, her chest felt tight, her breath shallow, her neck ached with tiny stinging pains.
She tried to speak, but her lips wouldn't move.
She tried to open her eyes, but they shut again instantly.
Her entire body went limp.
Contrary to her fading consciousness, Allan felt the opposite.
His head cleared.The dizziness vanished.
His hand gradually returned from its true form back to normal, the blackness fading from his veins and skin, dtrength filled him once more.
He lifted his head slowly, looking at her.
She was sweating lightly. Her breathing uneven. He gently wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of his hand, watching the way her eyelids fluttered.
"I shouldn't feel bad for this," he whispered to himself, his voice low, shadowed.
He watched carefully as the tension left her body, once her muscles relaxed completely, he knew she was asleep.
Not a peaceful sleep, not at all.
And with a quiet exhale, he slipped into her dream state along with her.
---
Inside the Dream
It took time longer than usual for Elaine to understand her surroundings. Her mind felt foggy, but the strange instinct of dreams guided her.
She was back in HERBERT WILBUR.
Not the part she had walked into before, but she knew this place.
Dream-knowing. That strange certainty that didn't exist in reality.
She climbed a smooth, polished wooden staircase. Dim orange lights lined the walls, casting the hallway in a warm yet unsettling glow. Shadows clung to the corners. The air felt heavy.
To her right were wooden railings.
To her left were portraits of people she didn't recognize.
At the top of the stairs—
Allan.
He stood silently, just watching her.
Calm, detached, familiar.
She walked toward him slowly, her steps light, her eyes strangely empty.
Until she reached a particular stair.
Her body stopped.
Her head jerked left, toward a painting she hadn't noticed before.
A large ancient tree under moonlight. Its branches glowed with a faint blue shimmer, the flowers sparkling like stardust. It looked breathtaking.
Beautiful, dreamy, but wrong.
There was something eerie about it, something stiff, unsettling beneath the beauty.
She stepped closer, fingertips brushing the painted bark, tracing every careful stroke of the artist's hand.
And then without warning she grabbed the painting and yanked it off the wall, violently.
The frame hit the wooden floor with a loud crack.
Behind it… was a hollow space.
Elaine reached inside and pulled something out.
A brown paper.
She turned toward him at the top of the staircase, her expression shifting into a strange, unsettling smile. Her eyes crinkled with a happiness that looked too sharp, too sudden, too wrong like she had just found a secret she wasn't meant to find.
Slowly, she lifted the paper toward him.
Allan's eyes furrowed a little wondering what was in there that was making her so happy, the spirit to put it clearly as he knew the one manifesting now wasn't actually Elaine, her body yes, but not her.
And everything went black.
He was pushed out of her dream instantly.
His eyes snapped open.
They were still in the same position, her lying in his arms, his hand still holding hers, sitting comfortably on the floor.
But unlike other days, when Elaine woke immediately after her dreams, this time she remained asleep. Her eyelids only twitched once… twice… three times. Then her breathing steadied.
Quiet, and peaceful.
He lifted her gently, carried her to the bed, laid her down, and stepped back.
His body felt normal, his strength restored.
And with almost no sound, he disappeared from the room.
He really was fine now.
Elaine woke to persistent nudging.
Someone was shaking her shoulder gently.
"What…?" she muttered in a sleepy groan, blinking up at her mother staring down at her.
"Wake up," her mum said.
Elaine frowned. Since when did Mum start waking me up?
But she sat up anyway.
"What is it?"
"Your friends are here to see you."
Elaine blinked fully awake at the word friends, but before she could think about that, she looked around the room to notice Allan wasn't there.
"Friends?" she repeated. "How many?"
"Two," her mum replied. "Go and meet them."
Her mum left the room, pausing only to sniff lightly at the air as if something smelled off.
Elaine washed her face, assuming it was Leonard and Helena.
But when she stepped out into the hallway, she paused.
Allan was standing in the kitchen with her mother, which was already strange enough, but she brushed past with a soft, "Good morning," before heading for the door.
She opened it, smiling automatically—
And her smile dropped instantly.
It wasn't Leonard, It wasn't Helena.
"What are you both doing here?" she asked, eyes wide.
"We're here to see Allan," Gwen said in her usual tone but with a light tint of request.
Beside her, Horace simply grinned, enjoying her shocked expression far too much.
"What?" Elaine asked, not still understanding, confusion marring her face.