A/N: This story will contain sore and potentially triggering subjects. There is physical abuse, sexual abuse (but not in detail), suicide (from his cousin, none of the main characters), and death (of his mother). I suggest you turn back now if any of these things will affect you, but I'll post warnings up before anything of the kind happens just in case.

I'm not trying to put you off, it also contains friendship, angst, and possibly future romance! Just need to make sure you're all okay with everything else that will be featured, primarily in the first few chapters. Don't be put off if it gets too dark at first, because it has to be bad before it gets fluffier! :P

Alex was four years old when his world turned upside down. It started when his mother started inviting other men into their home. Alex didn't really understand what went on after she took the man into her room and shut the door, but was told to stay away from it while she was in there.

"Alexander, honey," she said one day, holding hands with a dark haired man. He was very tall and had dirty looking clothes on. "This kind man and I are going to be busy for a while. Don't come near my bedroom, okay?"

"What are you doing in there?" Alex asked innocently.

The man blushed and looked away but his mother just smiled. "Very important taxes, sweetheart, but if you come in, we won't be able to concentrate and that would be very bad." As she was walking away hand in hand with the dark-haired man, she turned. "And don't tell your father!"

She slammed the door.

Alexander shrugged, sitting down on their ripped armchair and started reading a book he had found on a shelf which was starting to rot and fall down, sagging with the weight of the tomes. Most of the furniture in his house was showing signs of rot. the kitchen table, he was pretty sure, had woodworm.

His mother was teaching Alex to read, and he was getting rather good. He recognised all the letters and mostly knew what combination made what words, and he was excellent at working out what the really long ones were. He knew he could be even better, but his mother hadn't been teaching him as often anymore, she preferred staying in her room, often with a man. She always told him she was doing taxes. Alex knew that that was to do with money, and he knew money was very important and that they didn't have very much of it, so he left them to it.

A short while later, Alex heard a key turning in the lock. It must be his father! Finally, someone to talk to. The book he was reading was very dull.

James Hamilton walked into the small room, a grave expression on his face.

"Father! What's wrong?" Alex asked, recognising that all was not well.

"I'm not going to lie to you son," James said with a sigh. "The shop's gone under, everyone but the very best workers have been fired 'cos the boss can't pay us. Nothing to worry about though," he added seeing his son's crestfallen face. "We don't need money. Your mother and I love each other and that's enough. Speaking of your mother, where is she?"

Alex didn't answer. He looked at his feet, remembering her words. Don't tell your father.

"Son?"

feeling conflicted, he shrugged. She told him not to tell. But it was his father! and they were only doing taxes!

"Son, where is your mother?" He frowned, sounding more urgent.

"She told me not to tell," He whispered.

"It's okay, I won't tell her you told me," he promised.

Alexander nodded. "She's doing taxes in her room."

To anyone else, this would have been fine. But James knew that it was the excuse she used when they were going to-

Shit.

"This is important, Alex. Was she with anyone?"

"Yes, a man!" Alex smiled, happy to be helping his father, all guilt gone. His four-year-old brain might have been big, but it couldn't comprehend why his father's face darkened at the information. His smile dimmed. "Father?"

"Wait here, Alexander," he said as he went into the room he shared with his wife.

Alex wasn't entirely sure what went on in there. He heard a shriek, then yelling - so much yelling. He couldn't tell what it was that they were saying, it was too muffled, but he knew it wasn't good.

A man came flying out of the room, he looked like he had been pushed. He ran from the house, bare-chested, not sparing a glance behind him. Alex was shocked. Had his dad shoved him out?

Next, his mother came out, half dressed, apologetic. She looked a mess.

"You're pathetic," his father spat from behind her, face an angry shade of red.

"Please don't go!" She cried as her husband pushed past her violently and stormed down the hall. "I'm sorry! I know we're having money troubles, I was trying to help!"

"Well stop trying!" He picked up his coat and angrily shrugged it on. " I thought you loved me!"

His mother was getting more and more desperate, sobbing through her words. "I do! Please don't leave! James! James! Think about Alex!"

James looked at Alexander, seeming to notice him for the first time. His son. Poor, innocent Alex. This isn't his fault, he thought.

But it was, wasn't it? Before Alexander came along, they were happy. They had enough money to live on, even rented a little house. Then Rachel started vomiting, and they had called a doctor. They had been able to afford a doctor! He told them that she was pregnant, and it was one of the happiest days of their lives. Or it was.

They had to spend all their savings on the baby. They were already broke, and it hadn't even been born yet. Alexander came into the world and had all that he needed; toys, a bed, a whole room to himself, and parents that loved him. Any extra pennies that they came upon was spent on Alex.

So, yes, it was his fault.

Alex was scared. No other word for it. He didn't know what to do. His parents were fighting and he couldn't understand why. Was it his fault? If he'd only have kept the secret his mother had entrusted him with, they'd all be happy, maybe helping Alex with his writing. But now, James Hamilton stared at him, face softening. Maybe he would be the glue that could hold their relationship together.

But then his eyes narrowed dangerously and a sneer formed on his lips. "To hell with Alex," he hissed, and left, slamming the door so hard it was a wonder it wasn't ripped from its hinges.

His mother fell to her knees and put her head in her hands, sobbing. Alexander ran to her, tears falling down his face. he didn't understand what was going on.

Mother and son held each other until the sun came up.