Mary
In Owen's bedroom, a sleeping figure rests. 

Rest isn't exactly the best term for it, though— beads of sweat roll down Uriel's forehead, and the occasional gasp and murmur only spur the sleeping dream-weaver to clutch Owen's pillow even tighter. Blankets are tangled between their legs, kicked off long ago when the first shudders of pain began rolling through their body.

The disturbances go eerily silent, before Uriel *Shoots* Up from Owen's bed,

"*S'il vous plaît ne*—" They gasp, panting heavily. Their loose hair, knotted from their tossing and turning, falls over their hanging face. 

The silence stretches across the room, save for the heavy rise and fall of Uriel's chest. Every other part of their body tenses up, freezing in fear.
Wai
"*Uriel!*"
A panicked voice whispers, the widened eyes of its origin scanning the white-haired figure. The hand that had gripped their shoulder for the past half hour, maybe forty-five minutes shifted in its place, even less inclined now to let go. 

Owen had moved from sitting on the carpet across the room, leaning against his dresser to sitting right next to Uriel, compressed between the wall and his friend. The already small room was too big, he was too exposed; the window was still open, a gentle yet ominous breeze cooling the sweat on their brow, the sound of heavy rain having long become part of the permeating silence. A worried squeeze on their shoulder. 

"Uriel, Uriel, what's the matter? What.. What happened? Are you all right? What did you *See*?"
Mary
Nothing. There's no sign the words actually registered in Uriel's brain, not until— 

Uriel's arms are around Owen's waist, head craned against their shoulder. In this position, Owen can feel the pounding of their heart against his own, the shaking of Uriel's hands as they grip against his back. 

"I got caught." They whisper, shallow inhales tickling the bare skin of Owen's neck. 

"And I got punished for it." 

It's almost a croak, the pain pouring out of Uriel's voice making every syllable have to claw their way out of their throat.
Wai
The tickle of breath against Owen's neck and the hands around his back made his shot-through nerves crackle. Something soft in his torso, in the spot just below his ribcage where he was squishy and vulnerable, compelled him to wrap his arms closer around Uriel. His shield pushed at his skin from the inside, the ether murmuring insistently. That was odd.

"How did- what?"

A dry gulp, and a cheek pressed into tangled silk. 

"What did they do to you? *Who*.. I've never seen you like this," He muttered, head racing faster than his mouth could follow. Disjointed, half-formed thoughts spilled out into the noise, his soft and tentative tones little more than a backdrop to the wordless turmoil.
Mary
"It— it was my fault. I got cocky, didn't make the checks I should have, and I endangered you because of it." 

The shield pulsating under Owen's skin acts like a metronome to the panicking dream-weaver. They take a deep breath, attempting the synchronize their breathing to the ebb and flows of the energy.

"My haphazardness made him realize I was in there, and he managed to trap me in a lucid dream. I couldn't tell him the real reason I was there, so he..." 

Their voice died in their throat. There was no way to say this without worrying Owen— and seeing the look of worry in the boy's eyes might actually break what little composure Uriel had left. 

"It wasn't anything like what my extended family does. He couldn't access my mind— his influence ended at his 
Own, so he resorted to... Physical means." 

How would Uriel manage to break the news to Owen? That, because of their mistake, they'd potentially doomed their closest friend at the facility? It takes long, too long for the sentence to escape their lips.

"I didn't mind that, but he said he'd come for you all." 

Their head perks up as they remember, and they turn towards the door. 

"Is it locked?"
Wai
"Y-yes, it's a key card, it's as locked as it can be," Owen stammered, following their eyes anyway. "Come for us? It went that bad?! He, he doesn't know exactly who we are, does he? You said he couldn't get into your head, just drag you through his," He rambled, thinking aloud. He'd thought that he was in deep enough shit as it was-

Deep breath. Or, more accurately, a too-shallow inhale and a slow, shuddered exhale. He didn't want to give off the impression that he was angry, or as scared as he really was; despite his best efforts, though, it practically spilled from his pores, the weight of just what in the hell they were *Doing* Hitting him in delayed waves. 

One thing, though, about him. Running wasn't an option, the sweet bull-headed fool he was. It didn't even cross his mind. 

"..."
A small sound, and then nothing. Comfort first, and then prying. Owen didn't need to be pressed into their heartbeat to know that Uriel needed a minute. 

Impending doom aside, they were safe in his room, warm and dark and quiet.
Mary
"He dragged a representation of my physical self into his head and saw my face, but even so... There's only one person here with dream powers. He— Oliver, I should say, the science teacher— isn't stupid enough to have any trouble finding me. He told me to meet in his office tomorrow, and I have no trouble figuring out what will happen if I don't accept."

Uriel breathes a quiet, defeated laugh. It's small and pathetic, the same laugh a prisoner has when they're approaching the gallows. 

"You should stay away from me. For a while, at least. Until he gets what he wants, or this whole thing blows over. I don't want you to be hurt because of my stupid mistake."

"But..." Uriel draws themselves closer to Owen's chest— a selfish gesture, one begging for comfort they didn't deserve, not after their mistake. 

"Can I stay with you just for tonight? I can leave through the window to avoid cameras, but I just..."

Selfish, selfish behavior. They'd tell Owen what happened in detail later in the night, but right now the only thing they desired was a distraction from the hearse slowly approaching. 

They'd lost the right to say *I need company*, not after dragging their friends into their recklessness, but the delicate cracks in their voice conveyed that sentiment well enough.
Wai
*Stay away.. What?!* A shot of fear spiked through Owen's body, shaking his heart and sending catastrophes of loneliness and loss through his head. 

"*Dammit*, Uriel. You're not going anywhere." He couldn't let them slip through his fingers, not like this.

"I've lost enough to *'you're better off without me,'* And *'I don't deserve you,*' and I hate it and I won't hear that, that bullshit coming out of *Your* Mouth." 

His voice was desperate now, his pleas bleeding from his lips like an old wound ripped open and spilling its life onto the blankets. Uriel had to be the softest brick wall that he had ever encountered; absorbing all the shock for themselves, solid form in his hands fluttering to the ground in pillow feathers, light enough to make him want to scream. 

His heartbeat picked up, as did his breath, as an unbearably warm pressure built behind his eyes. Keeping the infernal shield inside of his arms and chest was a fight now, and he could feel it pushing harder against his skin, flooding through his muscles and prickling at the little hair follicles along his limbs. It felt a little as though he were being eaten alive.