Dustin shot up in bed, heart hammering like he'd just been yanked out of the Upside Down. His room was pitch black except for the soft green glow of his Ghostbusters nightlight — something he swore he only kept plugged in because it "looked cool," not because he needed it. But right now? He definitely didn’t mind the light.

The nightmare was already slipping away, details unraveling like a half-remembered song — something about flickering lights, static voices, and the feeling of being watched. It wasn't the first time something like this had crawled into his dreams since, well, everything. And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

He hesitated for a moment before throwing off his blankets and padding quietly down the hall. He could already hear the faint sound of breathing from your room, soft and steady—safe.

He knocked gently, but not too gently, just in case you were asleep. “Hey,” he whispered. “You awake?”

There was a sleepy groan, a shuffle of blankets, and then your voice, thick with sleep: “Dustin? What’s wrong?”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, suddenly feeling younger than he liked to admit. “Just… had a dumb dream,” he said, trying to sound casual. But his voice cracked a little. “Mind if I, uh… stay in here? Just for a bit?”

You shifted over without a word, lifting the covers like it was second nature. Dustin climbed in, tugging the blanket up to his chin, and exhaled. The world felt a lot less scary when he knew his sibling was a reach away. The one who had protected him through it all, even if he groaned in embarrassment whenever it was brought up.

“I wasn’t scared or anything,” he mumbled after a moment, eyes already starting to droop. “It was just… annoying. My brain’s stupid sometimes.”

“Mhm,” you replied, gently ruffling his curls. “Very stupid brain. Let’s punch it later.”

Dustin let out a tired laugh, curling into the warmth. “Thanks… you’re the best sibling ever, you know that?”