Wow! I got a load a reviews in the past few hours, thanks so much guys! I love reading them, they make my day! This chapter got to 10,000 words so I'm splitting it.

Reviewer responses:

Guest: Oh, is it on fanfiction? I haven't seen it. Yeah, the danger of foster care AUs is that most of them follow similar themes. I'm kind of straying away from some of the more common things but it probably seems like its plagiarized lol ( it's not). Imma read that fanfiction now!

Lams pickles: Oh! I'm glad you can see my updates, you commented a while ago saying you couldn't! Hey!

CarolinePhillips707: you make a good point, I also think this fanfiction talks about some important themes that I wouldn't want to censor unnecessarily from the majority of readers. Thanks!

Trigger warnings: self harm, homophobic slur, mention of past child abuse.

The next few weeks leapt by at an alarming rate, the days skipping past each other like pebbles over the surface of a lake. Alex hadn't yet adapted to life at the Washington's however. He still flinched and curled into himself when George stood up or moved too fast and nightmares awoke him frequently. His stomach, not yet used to the food supplied to it, tended to empty itself at the half full point.

One positive of the last few weeks of the summer was his growing friendship with Lafayette, Hercules and John.

John; Alex lived to see him. They spent all available time together, the four of them lounging in the comfortable living room of the Washingtons or laying stretched out in the sunny park near their house.

One particular day which had left Alex reeling was at the aforementioned park. Alex had been sleeping like a cat unfurled in the sun when John had taken off his shirt to 'catch that bomb ass tan for September.'

He had looked so beautiful in the golden light, toned and lean against the dark blue picnic blanket. Alex had felt so warm, so inexplicably happy for the first time in years.

John had caught him staring and grinned, his eye lashes golden and shining. His face was now, after the intense late summer sun, dotted with so many freckles that he looked like a pointillism artwork. Alex now understood why people said pretty as a painting.

Anyway, it was August the 31st and school would resume on the first day of September, the following morning. Alex had been signed up for the high school the previous week as a sophomore. He had chosen his subjects and placed in the same classes as John, Lafayette and Hercules for quite a few things.

He had done a few entrance exams and had been placed in honours classes for English among other things, with some Sophomores like himself and some juniors in the year above.

It was dinner time and around six o'clock. Martha and George had made pasta but Alex couldn't choke down a mouthful, his stomach churning and his chest pained with anxiety.

His dose of prozac was now at thirty milligrams but Alex was scatter-brained and often forgot to take it and even when he did, he found it unhelpful and only made it harder for him to sleep.

He hadn't voiced these complaints to the Washingtons, who had been paying for the medication since the start, he didn't want them to feel as though he was ungrateful.

Alex scraped his food into the waste bin after dinner and felt his stomach twist guiltily. He washed his cutlery and plate and retired early, wanting to get as much sleep for the morning as possible.

"Alex, dear, you don't want to watch anything on the TV?" Martha was looking at him with all too familiar concern written on her face. Alex hated seeing that look on her face, it had become her staple expression however when Alex was concerned. It made him hurt to see the worry he caused in her, he didn't deserve it.

"I think I'll just go and get some sleep. I want to be well rested for tomorrow. Is that okay? I can stay if you'd like..."

Martha shook her head and smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. Why couldn't he just make her happy for once?

"No, honey, you get some rest okay."

Alex climbed wearily up the stairs to his room, which after four weeks looked no more lived in than the night he had arrived. He was still awaiting the inevitable meeting where the Washingtons explained they couldn't keep him. He was too needy, too impertinent, too moody.

Sinking onto his bed he curled up in a ball and let the anxiety flood through him. He was too exhausted to have a panic attack now, but also too exhausted to fight one off. He seemed to disconnect from himself as his ragged breathing quickened and he shook violently.

Gasping hoarsely he tried to breath properly but found his throat closing, simply deciding to lie on his bed and just take it, Alex slumped, limp, and allowed the waves of nausea to roll over him.

The ceiling was white. So, so white. It seemed all encompassing. Like he was drowning in the sterile, bleached and dead colour.

A few minutes later he had gotten through the worst of it and stood up unsteadily.

Knowing he would regret it come morning, Alex reached into the bottom of his drawer and pulled out the small metal tin he had hidden there. He sat curled up onto his bed and rolled up his sleeve.

When he had cleaned up his arm to the best of his ability, he wrapped it in an old tee shirt. He didn't make the same mistake he had the first time at the Washingtons, this shirt was back and you couldn't see the numerous blood stains crusted into it.

Alex flicked off the light and lay down, glad it was pitch black in his room now, that crushing white was drowned in the thick night time.

He bit down on his lip hard and heard laughter downstairs, coming from something he would never, ever be a part of.

Alex pushed his head under his pillow to drown out the family in the living room below and closed his eyes, willing himself into a fitful sleep.

Pace grinned down at Alex, his enormous height dwarfing the boy.

"So you're leaving huh? Someone at school see all the bruises?"

Alex nodded numbly. This was not good.

"Funny. I knew they never cared enough to report it. I could probably break your arm, no one would say anything."

Alex nodded, he had learnt to agree when Pace insulted him, and started to believe it too.

"Well, you're leaving soon, so really, there's no consequences to what I do now. You'll be in fucking Virginia in two days."

Alex gulped, not nodding this time, just feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Then he clamped his hand around Alex's throat and knelt down to the floor, pinning him there.

"You know Alex, I'm not even gonna miss you. But you know that. This family you're going to, they won't really want you either. Will they?"

Alex couldn't respond with a hand wrapped around his throat but Pace snarled and used his free hand to slap Alex hard across the face.

"Will they, boy?"

Alex frantically shook his head and choked out a garbled no.

Pace smiled that awful, false smile and lay the first punch to his gut, leaving him doubled over and gasping for breath that he couldn't get with his throat being compressed like that.

The punches rained down and he zoned out until a sharp crack brought him back. Pace had stood up now and was no longer crushing his throat. Alex gasped in frantic breaths and looked up at Pace with a kind of bitter resentment in his dark eyes.

"You can only hit me when I'm down, can't you?"

Alex regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth and he clenched his teeth shut.

"What did you say to me boy?"

"Nothing."

"Well it sure sounded like something."

Alex didn't respond and Pace landed a sharp kick in his ribs. He lay on the floor, letting the blows land, back pressed against the wall and cheek against cold tile.

Alex awoke on the floor of his bedroom and glanced at the clock. 6:45, good, not too early. The sun was already rising and the window behind his curtain was a bright white.

Alex lay limp on the floor for a few minutes, feeling the anxiety in his stomach build and build, growing nearer and nearer to the inevitable panic attack.

Deciding he should probably wake Lafayette, as the agreed upon wake up time was ten to eight. He stood up and stumbled through the hallway to Lafayette's door. He knocked - no response, so he went in anyway.

"Laf... Laf, school today."

The boy groaned and sat up, bleary eyes staring sleepily at Alexander.

Maybe he noticed the look in Alex's eyes, maybe he was used to detecting the faint trembling of his foster brother's shoulders, but he picked up on Alex's anxiety immediately.

"Alexandre, are you okay?"

Alex bit his lip and shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I had a nightmare."

Lafayette reached out to hug Lafayette and pulled him onto the bed. They hugged there for a moment.

"Shall I count your breaths?"

Alex nodded and they counted together, his breath hitching occasionally but slowing after a few minutes.

Alex stayed with Laf for a while longer, engulfed in warmth. Eventually though, they heard Martha and George's alarm go off signalling eight o'clock.

"I should go get ready Gil."

Lafayette nodded and ran his hand though his afro that he hadn't yet tied up.

Alex pulled himself away from the hug and slipped out the door quietly, back to his room.

Lafayette had helped him to choose an outfit the day before and it lay out on the back of his chair. Long sleeves - all his bruises had faded but the scars, some self inflicted, some not, were still there. Fresh cuts also stung along his forearm and made his arm a less than pretty picture.

He pulled on the jeans, which were black and ripped at the knees, with acid washed hems.

His flannel was black and white and he buttoned it till only the top two were undone.

Alex pulled on some converses and brushed his hair into a passable messy bun. He had gotten his hair trimmed slightly a week ago and it now just tickled his shoukders, no longer uncomfortably long.

He splashed water onto his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Everyone who knew what the signs of a messed up kid were would be able to see them in his face and body language instantly, but to someone normal, he looked alright. The colours in his outfit matched and they were clean. That was all that really mattered to Alex.

He tidied his bedroom hurriedly and walked downstairs where he heard breakfast being started. On weekdays when there wasn't much time to make a full meal, Martha and George set out cereal and toast for him and Laf, which they had with coffee, or tea in Lafayette's case.

Alex poured himself a small helping of cereal and a cup of steaming black coffee before sitting himself next to Lafayette at the table.

They ate in mostly silence, apart from Lafayette saying a few reassuring things about the school to Alex.

"The teachers are nice, mostly. You won't be alone, you've got me, John and Herc to hang out with!"

Martha and George came down a minute later, having left to get dressed after setting out breakfast.

They were both in work attire, Martha in a neat suit and George in a white shirt, tie and pants, it was still pretty warm outside.

Martha smiled at the two boys and came over, kissing Laf on the forehead and wrapping Alex in a quick, loose embrace. He still got jumpy when people hugged him but Martha had learned not to hold him tight and not for too long. He relaxed into the hug.

"You both look very handsome. Are you looking forward to the first day back?"

Lafayette rolled his eyes, "Maman, do not make me feel guilty! I cannot lie to you!"

Alex smiled, "I think we'll be alright."

Martha nodded and walked over to where George was making them cups of tea.

Alex and Lafayette finished breakfast quickly and walked back upstairs to grab their bags. They had filled them with the text books and stationary they'd bought a few weeks back and were weighed down by the contents of them.

Lafayette was wearing a mustard knit sweater and dark blue jeans he had bought a few weeks ago and had again curled his eyelashes and tied up his hair as usual.

He looked really good. Way better than Alex, who's outfit was nice but monochrome. It was clear he hadn't got much sleep and his frame was still as skinny as when he had arrived.

He pulled at the bags under his eyes in the mirror in Lafayette's room.

"Alex, did you sleep at all last night?"

Alex shrugged, "I may have drifted off a little."

Lafayette sighed and put his arm around Alex's shoulder.

"Everything will be all right, oui."

"Oui." Responded Alex, smiling.

Together they walked down the stairs and said goodbye to George and Martha in the kitchen.

As soon as Alex was in sight range of the school, his stomach dropped. Hundreds of students from freshmen to seniors, were milling around the gates, laughing, chatting, fighting.

He stopped for a moment but Lafayette squeezed his shoulder tightly.

"It's okay."

They walked through the crowds, Lafayette stopping to greet friends and high five freshman and seniors alike that he knew.

He brought Alex to the front office where he was met with a bored looking receptionist.

"Alex, I have to go to the roll call, will you be good here?"

Alex gulped and nodded, trying not to let the fear show in his eyes. Laf smiled at him and turned around again, walking out of the double doors through the corridor presumably to his class room.

"I have your time table here, Alexander."

He jumped and turned around to the receptionist. She was holding out a sheet of paper to him which he took instantly and scanned over.

Monday Sept. 1st

Period 1: French, 211, honours. 9:20 - 10:20

Period 2: English literature, 214, honours 10:20- 11:20

Break 11:20 - 11:40

Period 3: Maths, 307 11:40 - 12:40

Period 4: Science, 310 12:40 - 1:40

Lunch (3rd) 1:40 - 2:35

Period 5: American politics, 409, honours 2:35 - 3:35

Alex sighed, he had third lunch, which kinda sucked, but he thought Laf, John and Herc had it too, so he wouldn't be eating alone.

"A senior is gonna come and show you to class in a minute, okay."

The receptionist was twirling her hair around her finger and doodling on a post-it-note.

"Kay..."

He waited on the chair in the office for a few minutes until suddenly the double doors opened and a tall, bored looking senior walked in.

His hair was shaved very close to his scalp, so he almost looked bald, but he was one of those people who suited it. His skin was dark like his eyes and he was probably just a little shorter than Hercules.

"Are you Alexander Hamilton?"

He had a northern accent, perhaps Bostonian or upsate New York.

Alex nodded and the boy sat down next to him, peering at his time table.

"I'm Aaron Burr, most just call me by my surname, you're one of those most."

"O-okay." Alex stuttered.

"You've got French first period. This number here is where the class is. The first integer means the floor, so two, and the second is the room, the eleventh."

Alex nodded quickly, this was simple, the same system his old school used.

"Follow me, I'll bring you to your first class, but I can't help you after that. I'm sure you'll be able to find your way around then."

"Okay."

"You're in honours classes huh?"

"I guess."

Burr didn't talk to him after that but instead kept up a quick pace through the school, Alex having to make fast strides to keep up.

They walked up one flight of stairs through the clean, empty hallways.

The school was decorated with dozens of notice boards advertising all sorts of clubs from the school paper to a cooking class.

The lockers were long and narrow, stacked up against the wall, some people had stuck stickers and photos to their lockers. The floor was linoleum and dark blue. As they walked Burr pointed out all the boy's bathrooms that Sophomores could use.

Soon they turned down a corridor and Alex knew instantly it was the French hallway.

Displays of French essays and maps lined the walls and the ceiling was hung with little French flags.

Burr stopped outside a classroom with 211 painted on the door.

He knocked three times and a male teacher's voice called, "oui?"

He opened the door and smiled characteristically at the teacher, who was standing at the board.

When he saw Aaron he smiled in return.

"Aaron, une nouvelle élève?"

A new student?

"Oui, Monsieur. Il s'appelle Alexandre Hamilton."

Alex could feel the eyes of the entire class on him as he scanned the rows of desks. Thankfully, sitting right at the back, he saw Lafayette and John next to each other. A free seat was available in front of Lafayette, Alex hoped he would get it.

The door closed and Alexander realised Burr had left. Monsieur Grants was looking at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to speak.

"Pardon?"

He mumbled, realising the teacher had asked him something.

The class murmured in amusement and Alex felt his face grow hot. Monsieur Grants looked a little frustrated.

"I said, introduce yourself to the class. En français, if you can."

Alex gulped and turned to the students in front of him.

"J-Je m'appelle Alexandre, je suis caraïbes, j'ai immigré quand j'avais treize ans. J'ai q-quinze ans." He cringed at his stutter, cursing his stupid, trembling lips.

I'm Alexander, I'm from the Caribbean, I immigrated when I was thirteen, I'm fifteen.

Monsieur Grants raised an eyebrow at his flawless French.

"Très bien Alexandre, asseyez vous."

He hurried to the seat in front of Lafayette, doing his best to ignore the murmurs and giggles that followed him.

Lafayette shot him a sympathetic grin and John gave him his usual flirty wink. Alex blushed, but then again, John did that for everyone.

The class started but it was pretty hard to concentrate. There was a group of boys a row ahead of him who were laughing loudly and whispering to each other. One of them kept throwing airplanes at a boy in the front row.

He caught one of the boy's eyes when he turned around to look Alex. They were cold, a harsh blue like chips of ice.

The boy had floppy, raven black hair that was shaved on one side and long on the other. He had the kind of cheekboned face one could associate with arrogance. He was good looking and he knew it. His lips curled into a lethal smirk and he chewed on a pen absentmindedly.

They boy who had been laughing and whispering the loudest was tall looking, even when sitting down and had blonde, curly hair that was long at the top and shaved at the sides. He had an intelligent look about him, but not in the positive way you might think. No, this boy looked like he knew you better than you did yourself and would use that against you in an instant.

He felt a subtle tap on his shoulder and he looked around to see Lafayette pressing a note to his back.

He took it quickly and turned around. He opened the note and read Lafayette's swirling handwriting.

Charles Lee, grade A asshole. He's the one with blue eyes.

George Frederick is the loud one.

Alex grinned and slid the note into his pencil case. He turned his attention back to the board where the Monsieur Grants was explaining direct and indirect object pronouns. Alex had learnt this when he was six from his mother.

He zoned out from the class, wondering how long left he had of this, until he heard his name called from the front. Jumping slightly, the class laughed, an especially cruel grin was evident on Charles Lee's face.

"Alexandre, I'm very sorry for interrupting your day dream. Would you care to fill in the work on the board?"

He stood up shakily and walked slowly to the front of the class room. He could do this, this was simple.

He took the white board marker off the teacher and with a trembling hand, reading in the first question.

He sighed, he knew this.

Je mets la carte sur la table.

All had to do was add the object pronoun.

He wrote on the board, in his tiny, loopy writing, Je l'y mets.

He finished the questions quickly and handed the pen back to an impressed looking Monsieur Grants.

Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, he walked quickly back to his seat. On the way, while his was passing Charles Lee's desk, a foot was suddenly right in his path.

Before he had time to stop, he was stumbling through the air and crashing his head against the leg of his desk. A yelp of pain escaped his mouth and he heard John gasp.

Laughter rang through the class room as he stood up, blushing furiously. He glared at Lee, who smirked back, eyes flashing dangerously, and turned back around to face the front.

Lafayette was red in the face, furious, while John was making a throat slitting motion at Lee.

Monsieur Grants raised his eyebrows, "Alexandre, what was that?"

Charles glared at him for a moment, as if daring him to tell the truth. He stayed silent for a second.

"Rien, Monsieur, I tripped over my lace."

Alex sat back down and hunched over against his desk, ignoring the smug glances Lee and his friend George were shooting at Alex.

He turned around to look Lafayette, he was breathing heavily but shook his head at Alex, as if to warn him not to retaliate.

The rest of the class dragged by, most of it taken up by silence as the students worked on some pages in their textbook.

Soon, the bell rang, signalling the start of next period.

Alex gathered up his things quickly and shoved them into his bag. He walked over to Lafayette and John waiting for them to finish packing away.

They walked in angry silence from the class room and parted ways at the end of the corridor. John was going to Art, Alex to honours English and Lafayette to regular English.

He looked down at his time table, English was on the same floor, in class room fourteen.

Alex walked into the class and took a seat right at the back, unpacking his things carefully and waiting excitedly for the teacher to arrive. Just as he had opened his text book to scan through it for the fiftieth time, a loud cough sounded above him.

He looked up and flinched when he saw Charles Lee standing there, eyes sharp and malicious.

"You're sitting in my seat."

Alex didn't know what to say, he had gotten here first, it was the first day of the year. This was his seat.

"Uh... no, I'm sitting in my seat."

Charles' eyes darkened to Prussian blue cyanide and he repeated himself,

"You're sitting in my seat, idiot."

There was a hint of violence in his tone now. Alex began to shove things into his bag quickly, deciding it wasn't worth it to fight back.

"Let me help you with that," George, the boy behind Charles grinned. He lifted his arm, and before Alex could stop him, swiped all of Alex's equipment off the desk. Pens rolled and bounced across the floor and his textbooks landed with around thump at his feet. George pulled Alex by the back of the collar and sent him sprawling to the ground, after his things.

As he was on his knees, quickly gathering his stuff into his arms, a girl knelt down next to him and started to help, gathering his textbooks into a pile.

Alex looked up at her and smiled. She rolled her eyes up at the two boys staring down at them. She was extremely pretty, her hair was long and silky, black in colour and tied in a half up, half down style. She was wearing a ultra marine tank top and had dark brown, Monet freckles on her shoulders.

"Eliza Schuyler, pleased to meet you. Sorry about those," she raised her voice slightly, "Idiot assholes, they're just being dumb."

Alex grinned and Charles Lee turned around.

"Shut up, dyke."

There was a collective gasp around the room but Elisa seemed unperturbed.

"Lee, I think you're just mad I get more girls than you."

She smiled sweetly and rested Alex's things on a desk next to hers, where she sat back down.

Alex laughed loudly and nodded in thanks to the girl. He liked her already.

Charles and George were about to retaliate but stopped when a young woman swept into the room. She was obviously the teacher and was carrying a cup of coffee and a folder in her arms. She screamed confidence.

"Good morning class, I'm Miss Monroe, welcome back to school. I'm sure you're just as excited as I am to be back."

She grinned and the rest of the class laughed, Alex even managed a smile.

Charles and George had sat down but were still glaring at Alex and Eliza. He felt uneasiness stir in his stomach but pushed it down to concentrate on the teacher.

"I see we have a new student in class with us today," the teacher was talking again, "do you want to introduce yourself?"

Alex gulped and stood up, "uh... I-I'm A-Alex. I'm fifteen, I'm from the Caribbean."

He hastily sat down again and winced as he heard laughter coming from the side of the room Charles and George were sitting.

Miss Monroe smiled at Alex and turned back to the board. Picking up a white board pen she wrote,

'The kite runner, Khaled Hosseini'

"This is the book we'll be studying for the semester, okay. I have copies here, James, will you hand then out?"

A short, dark boy who bared a striking resemblance to Hercules, aside from the considerable height difference, went around passing beaten up copies of the book to the students as he went.

Alex hadn't read it, but had read another by the author, 'A thousand splendid suns.' It had been really good, so he was looking forward to going into this book in detail.

They started off by reading the first three pages together and picking out techniques the writer was using to inspire emotion in the reader. In the first ten minutes, Alex had already filled up an entire page of his English copy book but hadn't dared to put up his hand yet.

He glanced at Eliza's book and saw she had quite a lot written down too, she seemed very intelligent. He smiled shyly at her and she raised her eyebrows at his already full page.

They were given the task of writing a short, one thousand word essay on the opening pages of the novel due for a weeks time. Alex was already mentally forming the opening lines of his, considering the setting of Afghanistan and the era Hosseini had chosen.

He was jotting down some notes on the narrator's voice when the bell rang and he was forced to close his pen and pack everything away.

It was break time, so instead of having to head to his next class, Alex started walking to one of the bathrooms Burr had shown him. He was excited about the essay for his English class but his anxiety wasn't exactly at a low level and he wanted to go somewhere private to calm down.

He was in such a hurry to get there, he didn't notice the two juniors following him from his English class.

oooh! What will happen next?