I wrote Cliche a while back and recently decided to rewrite it. I'm going to make it more historically accurate and just..better in general considering that original is beyond cringe worthy.

You don't have to have read the original to read this and I highly suggest you don't read the original..
it's just..bad.

This story will still have a warning of;
-Mentions Of Abuse
-PTSD
-Anxiety
-Depression

Here we go!..
Again.

~•~•~•~•~
Alexander sat in the car, fiddling with his bracelet. He decided not to look out the window. He was somewhat afraid of what he might see though he'd been living in New York for quite some time now. It didn't make too much sense when he thought about it, but Alex decided not to dwell on that.

He felt the anxiety rise in his chest as the car started to slow, and fell to a stop. Alex furrowed his eyebrows and angrily wishing he'd been legally emancipated or something of that sort. His father was still alive and Alex did make occasional contact with him, but he still didn't live with his father after social services had been called. His father and him had been separated, but he wasn't emancipated..technically.

Hamilton tried to convince himself that his father had just forgotten that he had locked him outside. And had just forgotten to feed him because he was so indulged in work.

But deep down, Alex knew his father had done everything on purpose. He'd never admit that though. That would forever stay in the back of his mind.

He wasn't sure which was worse his father forgetting about him (also known as child neglect) or his father purposely toying with his mind- and body considering Alex hadn't eaten in days after his father locked him outside.

"We're here," The social worker, also know as Mrs.K hummed, opening her car door.

Alex gave a short nod, not knowing wether or not Mrs.K had seen it.
So he panicked slightly and said,
"Yeah. Yeah I uh..I know." He cringed, thinking he made it worse.

Alex got out of the car, closing the car door and reopening the car door behind it, to get his bag. He tossed the bag over his should, closing the car door. Mrs.K and Alex walked to the door, and she pat Hamilton's shoulder, whispering, "This is the one Alex. I really think so."

Alex held back an eye roll. She said that every time, and every time Alex had ended up as either an ash tray, a punching bag, or a way to get money. He had been in two foster homes that only fostered him because of the 5,000 dollars they get at the beginning so they could support a kid. Those foster homes didn't use the money to support Alex. It was used on cigarettes, drugs and other things Hamilton didn't even want to know about.

He sighed, nervously fiddling with the bracelet, and chewing on his bottom lip. Alex did recall staying with the Stevens for quite some time after his mother had passed but it was short lived as his father quickly noticed his absence, and managed to rope him back into his house.

Hamilton had doubts that the man he called his father, was even his father at all but he didn't really have the motivation to look into it. Mrs.K rang the door bell and Alex continued to stare at his feet, wondering if it was over yet and he'd finally get to go home.

Hamilton knew he didn't have a home. That this house in front of him was his new home. But it wasn't home. It was just another stop before his social worker was back and he was being sent to another house.

The door open and Alex looked up on instinct, keeping his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Good evening! Hello Katherine," Mulligan said, taking Katherine's, or Mrs.K's hand and shaking it.

"You must be Alex."
Mulligan said, grinning.

Hamilton sighed softly, shrugging. "Sure." He said.

After Alex had said that, he started thinking about how it made no sense to say sure. He wondered if Mulligan thought he was stupid. Alex decided Mulligan knew he was stupid.

Mulligan lead them inside, talking to Katherine. Alex zoned out, looking down the hall. There were a few doors, only one of them open. The one that was open had the light off, but was unmistakably a bathroom. Alex rolled up his sleeves, wiping his nose and continuing to stare down the hall.

Though he snapped back into reality when Mrs.K was making an exit.

"Bye ma'am!"
Mulligan said happily.

Hamilton held back a scoff, knowing full well that the whole optimistic act would drop the moment Mrs.K was out the door. Alex looked back at her, silently begging her to stay. She smiled sadly, giving a small wave to Alex and closing the door behind her.

"It's just you and me pal," Mulligan said, clapping Alex on the shoulder.

Hamilton smiled awkwardly.
"..Great."

"I used to have a dog though. Do you like dogs?" Mulligan asked, motioning for Alex to follow him in the hall.

"Uh..They're okay. Don't hate em, don't love them. I like cats though." Alex said, walking close behind Mulligan.

Mulligan gasped in faux shock.
"Cats?"

Alex shrugged, nervously looking to him. "Eh. Cats are okay. Don't hate em, don't love them." Mulligan said, smirking.

Hamilton smiled softly. Mulligan opened a door, showing Alex his room. It was neatly put together with a few necessities and a few notebooks on a desk and a backpack propped up against the bed.

"..This is my room?" Alex asked slowly, gripping his duffel back.

"Mhm. I know it's not much but I assumed you'd want to..move things around and fix it up to fit your personality. Or somethin' like that." Mulligan told him.

"Thank you." Alex said, slowly walking into the room, his eyes full of awe. "This is..amazing. Thank you." Hamilton said, looking back at him.

Mulligan was aware of Alex's past of abusive foster homes and tried to not say that this was nearly what he needed to survive.

"Make yourself at home kid."
Mulligan said, smiling softly.

Alex gave a small nod, turning back around. He put the duffel bag on the bed, slowly touching the bed and feeling how smooth it felt. How it didn't resist against his weight stiffly but pushed down slightly. Alex drew his hand back in surprise, looking at the bed in shock.

He slowly smiled, looking back at Mulligan, grinning.

Mulligan let it a breathy laugh, nodding slightly. "All yours. I'm going to go finish up breakfast. I'll come get you when it's done. Relax a little."
Mulligan said.

Alex nodded, going back to messing with his bed and smiling like an idiot. He was used to a stiff mattress, having nights with no sleep because of it.
This, was definitely a step up.

Mulligan watched him for a moment, sighing softly, feeling pity for the kid.
He closed the door, wiping his hands on his pants and let out a shaky breath, going to finish up breakfast.

Alex took off his shoes, lying down on the bed. He moved to his side, then his other side. Hamilton flipped around completely, stuffing his face in his pillow.

"I love it," He said, though his voice was muffled. Alex let himself stay like that for about thirty second before turning back around and sitting up to breathe.

He went to pull down his sleeves but paused, looking at his left arm and grimacing for a moment. Hamilton glanced to his door then looked back at his arm, scanning over the faint scars. He pulled his sleeves down, sighing.

Alex looked at the end of the bed at his duffel bag, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Maybe Mulligan would send him to therapy to calm the anxiety. God, he would love that.

He looked at his bag, feeling lazy and not wanting to put his clothes in the dresser whatsoever. Then again, he didn't want Mulligan to be upset with him for not doing it. He didn't want to trust Mulligan too early.

Alex groaned, wiping his face and forcing himself out of bed. He knew he wasn't going to get adopted. He'd be eighteen in January which meant he would be an adult, and because Alex started living with Mulligan in June, which would mean eight months until his birthday and usually kids weren't adopted until a year or two years in, if the foster parents gave a shit about them.

But you could be adopted six months in but the chances of that were extremely low of that happening. There was a whole legal process that would have to happen and then he might have to go to court, and there'd be an obscene amount of paperwork.

He'd still live with Mulligan after he turned eighteen of course because he'd have to finish high school, and this was assuming he'd make it long with Mulligan. If Mulligan was nice, he'd be able to help Hamilton go to college.

Alex didn't have high hopes.
He didn't want to get attached. Alex had learned at least that much in the past.