Whenever it stormed Chell and Doug built a blanket fort in the living room. Whenever the world became too loud, too big, too scary- too much- they would create their own.
It was a soft, gentle place where the sky was a mismatched collage of pastels that they could reach out and touch, and the ground was plush, and littered with pillows and books. It was a wonderfully contained little world where everything there was to see could be seen, and there wasn't room for anything bad. And if the world that contained their own went dark, they had their own light, and their world would begin to glow.
They would spend hours curled up together in their little world of warmth and softness and light, reading to each other, and holding each other, and murmuring reassurances. They were okay. They were going to be okay. They had each other and that was all they needed, and to each of them this world was perfect simply because the other one was in it.