Belong - an adopted by Hamilton fanfic [Hamilton]

66. To find: home

[A/N: Heya!👋 New chapter here! And, like always, there is a trigger warning for mentions of suicide, self harm and obsessive thoughts. It's mainly a (very) happy and anticipated one💐 Enjoy!😌]

I stood in the hallway of the place that I called my home. Traffic had been bad, and it had taken longer than usual to get here. Every cell in my body was tired, and I had to fight in order to keep my eyes open from the panic attack in the car just half an hour earlier. Behind me, I could hear Vanessa locking the door so I wouldn't have to go through with my routines regarding that.
Everything was familiar - the paint on the walls, the coat rack and Sebastian's own low coat rack, the cork board with important notes, the living room and the colourful toys, scattered all over the floor. Tobi was already all over me, barking with excitement over seeing everyone. Still, something felt new and different.
I held tightly onto my backpack, scared to put it down.
I was here. I had made it. I was home.
And somehow putting the backpack down would make it real. It would be the first step towards making myself at home. And I couldn't actually believe it quite yet.
I never thought I'd be back here.
Not really.
I thought I'd be gone, dead. Even if I hadn't wanted to die.
Lin was already in the living room with Sebastian, who had run towards his trains at first sight, without giving Lin or Vanessa a chance to take off his shoes and jacket. It was a new thing he was doing, they'd told me about at the hospital. My guess was that he knew it annoyed them, and so he found it to be quite funny.
I took a deep breath. My head hurt from everything that was happening around me; and from what had happened in the car.
I still hadn't put the backpack down. Because that would make today even more real.
Vanessa took my hand, squeezing it tightly.
"It's alright, Rue", she said, taking my backpack so that I wouldn't have to put it down myself. "Take your time", giving me an uplifting smile.
Down the hall, a certain spot seemed to catch my eye. It looked they way it always had looked. A painting on the off-white wall, just across Lin and Vanessa's bedroom. There was the little scratch on the wall, and paint of blue and green close to the floor from the time Sebastian had decided to go paint somewhere else than me designated place on the kitchen floor. It was all the same. Still, it didn't feel the same.
I took my shoes off. Slowly, I unlaced them.
Do it again.
It was muffled, distant from the heavier meds I'd been put on at the hospital, but the picture of what would happen if I didn't still shone strongly.
So I put them on again. And unlaced them again. I was too tired to hold my stance, to resist, so I did it and then put my shoes in their designated place by the others. Next to Vanessa's, Lin's and Sebastian. In our home.
I started walking towards the spot, dragging my unwilling feet as I knew I had to walk past there in order to get to my room.
As I passed Vanessa, who was now standing in the kitchen and writing something on a list, I asked:
"V? I'll take a nap, if that's okay?", gathering all my strength to put together a normal sentence. She smiled from my simple request, only to look at me with a slight worry on her face.
"Of course that's okay, Rue-Rue. Just tired, or is it something more than that?", checking on me, just like she was supposed to do.
"I'm just tired from everything", an honest answer, with everything literally meaning everything. The goodbyes, the surroundings, the outside, the sounds, the lights, the car ride, the talking, the panic attack. Mainly the panic attack.
I walked past the spot. It even looked the same. Maybe a little scratch on the floor. And maybe a bit of paint had peeled off from me hitting it as I fell unconscious. It looked clean. But it looked almost untouched. Untouched by me, Vanessa and Lin. Untouched by the paramedics. Untouched by the passing out, the puking and the seizing. Untouched by my unwilling attempt to kill myself. Untouched by everything that had happened there. How is it all the same?, I found myself asking in my mind.
I walked past it quickly. I held my breath and closed my eyes, feeling as if I could ignore it for a moment if I did those very things. Still it filled me with darkness, the sight of it weighing me down. I was instantly filled with relief as I reached my room, the door already open, welcoming me back as I could finally breath again.
I stepped inside.
My room looked the same. It was just as tidy as I'd left it, though my bed had new rainbow dotted covers and my desk still had my notes and books in order.
It was as if I had never left.
And I was still on the fence whether that was a good or a bad thing. At that very moment, it felt good. It was familiar. It wasn't the same, but it still felt safe. And I guess that that would be enough.
I left the door ajar, pulled down the blinds and got into some comfier clothes than the jeans I had been wearing. It was lunch time, and New York City was full of life outside of my window. I could hear someone selling ice scream, cars honking and someone playing guitar down the street. Everything was so loud. So full of life. And it was stressful; the noise, the life, the movement.
But, I was so tired that I couldn't care less about everything that was going around outside. I was just tired. So tired that I couldn't feel the routines building up in the back of my head, making a to-do list of what I was going to have to do when I woke up.
Everything was just so exhausting.
Life was exhausting.
But, for the first time in a while I was going to sleep in my own bed. For the first time in a while I was going to feel a little safer. A little better. And maybe I wasn't going to wake up, screaming. Maybe.
I pulled the covers over my head, leaving a hole for my face to stare into the wall as I slept on my side. It felt safe to be able to stare into a wall, and not be surrounded by a room on both sides of the bed.
It felt like home.
I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, taking it in with every sense.
Pinched myself.
It hurt.
I was home.
I was actually home.