Belonging - an adopted by Hamilton sequel

20th of August, 2027: Telling

[A/N: This is a two part chapter I've been working on for a while. I do really hope you'll enjoy it💛]

20th of August, 2027

I was laying on the sofa, covered in a light blanket, as Dom walked through the door. It was a Friday afternoon, and he'd come home early from work. I had been home all day, essentially trying to get work done, however giving in to the nausea after lunch. On the TV was a British renovating program, which was my biggest comfort watch.
"Hey, I'm home-", Dom announced, and I could hear that he was carrying bags from the supermarket. I couldn't find the energy to reply to him. A couple of seconds later, I could hear him put the bags down. "Rue?", he asked, a little worrisome.
"On the sofa", I quietly replied, exhausted.
"I was thinking that we could order takeout tonight, maybe?", he said, sounding relieved to hear me as he walked over from the kitchen. I knew he was trying to brighten my spirits and desperately trying to get me to eat, but I just violently shook my head. Even the thought of takeout made me feel sick to my bones.
"No", I helplessly replied, as I pulled the blanket over myself, despite it being a warm August day. Dom came up to me. "You can get it. For you"
"Is it that bad, darling?", he caringly asked, as he kneeled in front of me to meet my eyes. I desperately nodded. The nausea had gotten extensively worse over the last couple of days. Today was the worst yet. It had just grown worse and worse over the course of the day. Lying like this on the sofa was the only thing that made it bearable.
"Have you had anything to eat today?", he asked, his tone concerned. He had stayed a little longer this morning before work, and made sure I had drunk a bit of water before he left.
"Not really", I forced out a reply. "I had a bowl of cereal. But it came back up"
"I'm sorry", Dom said, stroking my head. "But you really need to eat, darling-"
I instinctively shook my head.
"You practically haven't eaten in three days, Rue. And it's like ninety degrees outside. Just say anything you think you can stomach and I will get it for you", Dom told me, putting on a serious note.

Last week, at the first appointment, dr Santos had expressed concerns about the nausea I was experiencing in combination with my OCD and anxiety during all the questions she had asked. Especially with how my relationship with food had been over the years. I knew that Dom had been extra attentive to that information.

I looked at him.
"I don't want anything", I whimpered.
His face softened.
"You need to eat", he countered.
"I know", I complained, squeezing my eyes closed as I tried to suppress another wave of nausea.
Dom sighed, as he kindly looked at me.
"We can call dr Santos? She told us to call if it got worse, and you know she mentioned that there are meds for this-", he tried to suggest, but I just shook my head.
"No meds", I told him. My fear of pills was still present since all those years ago when I'd overdosed on my antidepressants. Now I barely even took an Advil when I had a headache. I didn't trust myself around them. So, in a sense, it actually wasn't a fear. Just a way to self-preserve.
Dom looked at me, and put on a serious face.
"Either, we call dr Santos and get a prescription, or we try and find something you can eat. Which is it?", he asked me. I just shook my head, and pushed myself up in a seated position. I had to steady myself with my arm. I could feel myself shaking, and the world instantly started spinning.
"Hey-", Dom exclaimed and grabbed me by my shoulders, as he saw me lose my balance. I squeezed my eyes closed, over and over, as I practically whimpered while trying to avoid being sick.
The panic inside me was growing.
I began to tap desperately, counting each one.
"Rue - breathe. Look at me. Breathe with me", Dom said, trying to get my attention. In between the blinks, I watched him as he took the lead on breathing in the pattern that I found to be safe. He held my hand, and massaged it in a way that made me remember that he was there.
"There we go", he told me, sounding revealed as my breathing matched his. "It's okay. You can be sick if you have to. I'll be here", he reassured me. I desperately shook my head in between routines.