A/N: I don't know what made me want to write this but it just sort of happened. It's just a one shot, but I think I just missed writing Hopeless Wanderer tbh. (haven't put much effort into proof reading as this is purely procrastination and I feel guilty so pls don't get too offended if it's a mess) .

No one prepared you for this.

You stare out at a swarming sea of unfamiliar faces and your stomach churns. You want to see them. You need to see them.

No one ever prepared you for this.

You are sitting on a stoop outside of a building of dorms in New York staring at your suitcase and you can't bring yourself to pick it up and go inside. The boxes are already there, all you have to do is move. Just move.

All of the faces around you are like your own, the nervous-excited-terrified glances as they scour their maps for the right buildings. They're all lost, every one of them.

Breathe in. You've done this before, you think, you can do this again. They're just a phone call away, just a flight away. They're not gone.

They're not like your mom. It's different.

You huff out a frustrated sigh and dig your cell out of your pocket and look at the screen.

1 new message: mom.

You don't want to slide it open. You want her here.

You open it.

Deep breaths, love. You got this.

You go inside.

.

"It's here."

You're in the backyard watching Jude play ball with Jesus when Stef runs out to the yard waving a large envelope around like a mad woman.

She hands it to you and you stare at it in your hands, suddenly unsure of what to do. Are you ready for this?

If it's bad, then is it really bad?

Wouldn't it be better to stay here?

You trace your hands along the New York University logo stamped at the top right corner and close your eyes.

You worked hard for this, you worked so hard.

They watch, silently, patiently, as you open the letter.

You smile, but your heart hurts. "Looks like I'm going to New York."

.

Had it been a mistake?

You're not ready for this.

You worked so hard to get here, you remind yourself, and you take a deep breath, count to ten.

Your roommate, Amelia, is nice, she introduces herself quietly and you both shift around each other uncomfortably unpacking your things into the tight spaces beneath the towering beds. She's just as nervous as you, you can see it in the way that she moves around you silently with her eyes pointed towards the ground. Occasionally, you both steal glances and small smiles. Mostly it's just awkward.

You open up your phone.

In the room. Roommate seems nice.

You send it to Stef and toss the phone on the mattress and continue unpacking.

Soon enough, it's done. Your stomach rumbles

the biggest challenge is yet to come.

"So, ah..." Amelia starts, shifting on her feet. "Do you wanna go get food?"

Not this. Not so soon.

.

"Promise me something, Cal?"

Stef is helping you pack up and she sits down on the edge of your bed, patting the empty seat next to her.

"Sure?"

She takes your hand. "Promise you'll call. Any doubts, any triggers, you call. Kay?"

Callie nods. "I will."

.

So you're torn, understandably. Learning to cope with eating with family took time as it was, even now you have moments where you feel uneasy. The only thing that seems to get you through is knowing that they're right there. That they need you and you need them and it's okay it's okay it's gonna be okay.

But Amelia is smaller than you, maybe she eats less than you?

No. No.

You take a shaking deep breath. "Sure," you mumble. "I have to call my moms first if that's okay."

She smiles and nods and disappears into the bathroom and you head out to the hallway to try and find somewhere quiet to talk.

There's an empty laundry room at the end of the hallway and you sneak inside, closing the door behind you. Hands shaking, fumbling to dial the numbers.

Promise me you'll take care of yourself, Callie. Please.

She answers on the second ring.

"Hey, Sweets."

The sound of her voice makes the shaking die down and you feel your breathing ease up a little.

"Hey."

A moment of silence. "You okay? You sound quiet."

"Yeah."

"Cal?"

And the floodgates open. You're crying, and you hate yourself for it. There was a time you could be alone, there was a time that it was normal. Now you can't cope with the silence, you can't cope without them you can't youcant.

"It's hard."

Right now is when she's supposed to hug you. "Oh, honey. I know it's hard, I know. But mama and me have flights booked, we're gonna be there in two weeks. It'll be okay, sweets."

"But..."

"but?"

You choke on a sob. "My roommate wants to go to the dining area and...im...I'm not sure if i'm ready yet, what if I can't do this? What if...what if I relapse? Wha..."

Stef cuts you off. "What did I tell you before? No what if's. No panicking, okay? Sweets, you got this. You got this."

You wrap your arms around yourself and close your eyes. "I miss you guys."

"Remember what the doctor said?" Stef asks.

You nod. "Yeah."

"Say it to me, Cal. I want to make sure you remember."

Deep breath. "Breathe, keep breathing. Don't stop breathing. Feel your feet on the ground, find a familiar voice and hold on."

"You do that, okay? You do that and then you go for food. Be safe, my love."

You smile and nod your head gratefully. "Love you, mom."

And then you're alone again.

The dining area is big, swarming, and far too hot.

You crave dinner at home with your family, a warm kitchen and a big table and people that you know.

Can't do it. Can't do it.

You take a tray and follow Amelia. She takes a sandwich, an apple, chips, and a bottle of water.

You reach for the sandwich, pull your hand back.

Maybe not bread and cheese, maybe not this soon.

An apple, Carrot sticks, hummus and a chicken salad wrap.

You put the carrot sticks and hummus back and grab some diet coke and then follow Amelia to a table.

Neither of you know what to say other than the usual conversation starters: Where are you from? Oh, thats nice. The weather here's a bit humid, right? Watch much TV?

But you manage to eat everything.

Promise you will take care of yourself, Cal. Promise me.

Amelia eats another packet of chips and the conversation sort of picks up, although all you can think about is how you'll have to come down here three times a day and how you aren't really sure what it is they put in the food and you nod along, smiling, while Amelia tells you about her school and how much she misses her friends

and you feel bad because you're just thinking about food.

what if they were wrong?

There are so many things that you have to do alone when you go to college and, while the other kids worry about washing and paying for food and keeping their grades up, all you can think about is how the thing that could most likely ruin your time here is something that probably no one in this entire building even considers to be an issue.

Later that night, when Amelia falls asleep and you are alone with your thoughts, you try to make some sense of everything happening.

You're here because you want to be. You're not here because they made you. This isn't like before, and before wasn't bad either.

You're in New York City, and they are in California, and you can call if you want.

You count to ten, deep and even breaths.

And then you text Stef.

Thank you.

Not a moment passes.

Love you, sweets. Mama said night x

You worry endlessly on the first night and you'd expected it to be that way but Stef promises that it'll get easier. You'll get used to eating in the dining area, you'll get used to sharing a room, you'll get used to classes and stress and the big city.

Just because everything's different, doesn't mean anything has changed.

Your moms are a phone call away, your siblings are a plane journey away. There's holidays, there's the odd weekend. You'll see them, nothing is going to change.

You won't go back there.

Your phone buzzes and you swipe it open.

Stop worrying and sleep, my love. I know you too well. All will be okay.

It will.