Another change then, Dahlia could tell. She felt it in the strength of Quinn’s hug, heard it in the way her voice lost its panic, and then lost everything else with it. She knew it was guilt, even if that realization didn’t quite reach her consciousness. Quinn felt guilty about something, about [i]her[/i]. Hurting her. Hurting her? Silly. Utterly silly. 

“[color=skyblue]No, no,[/color]” she said, glancing stability for just a moment. “[color=skyblue]Didn’t hurt me. Never hurt me, Quinn. Nuh-uh. I just…forgot, s’all. Just forgot. No biggie. Sleeping fine, just a lil’ weird.[/color]”

She pulled herself away, just enough to look Quinn in the eye. Red, wet-cheeked, stricken with guilt or worry or grief or all; a part of her stung knowing this was the most familiar of her sister’s faces. Dahlia wanted more than anything these days to see her smile. To make sure she was safe enough to smile. 

She smiled—[i]like this, see?[/i]—and squeezed Quinn’s shoulders. Her eyes ached. “[color=skyblue]Never sorry to me. I’m not sorry. I wouldn’t change anything. Made you a promise. ‘Cause I wouldn’t change anything.[/color]”