Ever since his mom died when he was fourteen, Magnus had been homeless.

He lived around Boston University, sleeping in the library whenever he could get away with it. He wore the same handful of faded shirts in rotation, washed whenever he managed to find a public restroom or sink that nobody chased him away from. He ate whenever he could, never knowing where his next meal would come from.

He dealt with the college kids who made fun of him. The strangers who looked at him like he was something dirty on the sidewalk. The security guards who watched him a little too closely whenever he stepped inside a store.

And the cold.

God, the cold.

Boston winters had a way of settling into your bones, turning every night into a battle of endurance. He'd learned which library vents gave off the most heat, which overhangs kept the rain off, and which benches caught the morning sun first.

He never begged for money.

Never held up a cardboard sign or asked strangers for food.

Instead, he stole from Target and Walmart whenever he was desperate enough to risk it. He dug through dumpsters behind restaurants after closing, fished coins out of decorative fountains, and searched vending machines for forgotten change.

Sometimes he'd get lucky and find a few dollars someone had left behind.

Sometimes he'd find nothing at all.

Most days, though, he just sat on benches or sidewalks and watched people walk by.

Businessmen rushing to work.

Parents dragging sleepy kids along.

Students laughing with backpacks slung over one shoulder.

He spent so much time watching people that it became a habit. Faces blurred together after a while, but some always stood out.

Whenever the weather got bad, he'd disappear into the library for a few hours, reading whatever books caught his eye until someone eventually asked him to leave.

For someone living on the streets, Magnus was surprisingly... calm.

Pretty chill, honestly.

He'd joke with the occasional homeless veteran, help tourists with directions if they looked lost, and even return wallets if he found one.

He was a good person.

Just someone life had decided to repeatedly kick while he was already down.

Life...

And college students.

God, how he hated them.

Not all of them, maybe.

Just enough to make him expect the worst every time he saw a group coming.

Every other day one of them had something to say.

A joke.

A laugh.

A whispered comment they thought he couldn't hear.

Some would point. Others would wrinkle their noses as they walked past. A few would toss spare change at him like feeding an animal in a zoo.

Rich kids with perfect lives and entitlement almost as big as their bank accounts.

Or at least that's how they looked from where he sat.

Just now, another group came walking down the sidewalk, loud enough that Magnus noticed them before he even looked up.

His eyes drifted over them automatically.

He reconized a few.

There was the guy in front.

The one who'd called him "Kurt Cobain look-alike" a few weeks ago before his friends burst into laughter.

Behind him was the girl who'd once thrown a handful of pennies at him like she was giving bread to ducks.

One of the pennies hit him in the face.

Then there was you.

You'd never actually done anything to him.

Never stopped to help, either.

But he'd seen you around enough that your face had quietly settled into his memory. You passed through this part of campus often enough for him to notice, and for reasons even he couldn't explain, he always found himself watching until you disappeared into the crowd.

Maybe because you looked at him instead of pretending he wasn't there.

He wasn't really sure.

After a second, he noticed you looking back.

Your eyes met his for just a moment.

Out of pure instinct, before he could even think about it, Magnus lifted one hand and gave you a small wave.

Nothing dramatic.

Just a quick, casual litle wave.

Like he knew you.