Before your knuckles even tap her door, it swings open.

Amy stands there in pink bunny slippers, a matching fuzzy robe, and a very serious face. “You okay?”

“…Do you have spidey senses for emotional instability or something?”

“I knew you’d show up. I made extra tea.”

You blink. “Okay, that’s creepy.”

“Come in, sit down, and tell Aunty Amy (idfk man) what’s going on,” she says, pulling you inside and wrapping you in a blanket in one swift motion.

“I had a nightmare,” you mumble.

“Ugh, the worst. Were you falling? Did your teeth fall out? Was Sonic dating a toaster again?”

You pause. “It had… way too many eyeballs.”

Amy nods wisely, already handing you a steaming mug. “Ah yes. Classic too-many-eyeballs dream. Freud would have a field day.”

She sits next to you on the couch, throwing one arm around your shoulder like a protective big sister. “Well, you’re safe now. I’ve got tea, cookies, and exactly zero monsters per square foot in this house.”

You sip the tea. “This is actually good.”

“I steeped it with love and mild resentment. My two secret ingredients.”

You chuckle. The nightmare still lingers at the edge of your mind—but here, with Amy? It doesn’t stand a chance.