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It was warm. That was the only thing Magnus Chase registered as he curled up on top of the too soft bed, under the too soft blanket. There was no breeze, no mumbling voices or booming cars. There was nothing but endless silence that stretched over the room like a disease.
He’d gotten used to the cold biting his toes in the night, it had never really bothered him but he was used to it anyhow. Now, well, it wasn’t cold. Far from it in fact as in the corner of the room, a white painted radiator blasted the room with foreign heat. Still silent though, and still slightly terrifying (shut-up)
How long had it been since he’d last slept inside? Last slept in a bed? Was last consumed by silence? He couldn’t remember exactly but his heart throbbed with memories of fire and eyes and a voice ‘run Magnus run’. Six months. Must have been and wasn’t that tragic?
‘How sad, poor little orphan Magnus with his old clothes and greasy hair’ you think or maybe you’re a massive jerkwad and don’t spare him a thought. All notice but few actually help those that can be helped. No one really helped him anymore.
In all honesty, he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He’d seen way too many pity glances and received too little care to actually give a flying pig’s ass about how people thought of him. Well, almost everyone. There was the case of his two street ‘parents’ whom he couldn’t help but feel an unwavering tug of affection for.
His days on the streets had taught him an abundance of skills that most would find no use for yet he found them saving his behind day after day. Some, like how to pop the lock on a car, were simple. Others, like how to tell whether someone was worth pick-pocketing or not, were a tad more complicated. But there was one cardinal rule that he had devoted an awful lot of time to perfect. Don't let them know you care.
Don’t meet anyone’s eyes, don’t cry for money. No love means no lies; if you can’t be hurt then no one will hurt you. Magnus was getting good at not caring but over the few weeks he had known Blitz and Hearth, he had begun letting his guard down and caring.
Was it worth the smiles on their faces (Hearth didn’t really smile but his eyes would glow)? He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that.
Magnus’ ears perked at the sound of mumbling voices, his thought track successful reduced to nothing. Was it the woman again? The one that had all but plucked him from the police station – a woman that Magnus thought wore way too much makeup. Keep dreaming love, he thought, no one buys that you’re younger than fifty.
She was a horrible woman, there were no two ways about it (take that people who thought he cared too much). She was a short plump woman with sickening red dyed hair. A colour that really didn’t suit her, Magnus would bet his right hand that if Blitz saw he’d have an aneurysm if he laid his eyes on her hideous pink cardigan. Now, Magnus had nothing against cardigans (the colour pink was an entirely different story) but if you were going to wear one, at least wear one that fits around your chest. Otherwise, you can never be sure whether one of the buttons were going to ping off and whack you to England and back.
The voices faded away and Magnus breathed a sigh of relief. Burying his head into the pillow he tried to force his body into shut-down mode but it wouldn’t listen. His heart pounded at the unknown territory and his brain was whirling to come up with as many worse case scenarios as it possibly could - it was doing a marvellous job at that.
“Kid,” a familiar voice whispered. Not that the quiet tone helped as Magnus’ soul seemingly flung itself out of his body and flew straight to Mars and then back again, “sorry.” Blitz muttered, voice far too amused for Magnus’ liking.
“Holy crap on a cracker, Blitz!” Magnus cursed (was that technically a curse?), elegantly flailing out from under the blanket into a Magnus pile on the floor. Blitz grinned at him from his perch on the window sill before gracefully descending into Magnus’ impromptu prison. Behind him, Hearth clambered up to the window with a wave.
“You alright?” Blitz asked grabbing Magnus by the arm and hauling him to his feet. The latter swayed a moment before his eyes remembered that yes: there were eyes and yes: they needed to help him see.
“I’m just glad that I went to the toilet earlier, otherwise this situation would be very awkward.” Magnus draped one hand over his forehead and pressed the other hand against his pounding heart and glared at Blitz through his bangs.
Already pretty awkward, Hearth signed. Magnus pulled a highly unattractive face at him and folded his hands over his chest expectantly.
“Oh don’t give us that look, kid. We’re here to rescue you,” Blitz walked to the corner of the room and picked up Magnus’ abandoned backpack. His friend pulled a face, no doubt noticing how light it was.
“Lovely lady stole my stuff,” Magnus growled. “And the falafel that Amir gave me.” Hearth patted him on the shoulder sympathetically as Magnus sniffed. Blitz gave him a very perplexed look.
“So you got arrested, picked up and shipped away in one day and the thing you’re worried about is your falafel.” Blitz summarised, his perfectly plucked eyebrows ascended into the heavens. Magnus watched them go with a morbid expression.
“Just because you guys haven’t got your priorities straight doesn’t mean I haven’t.” He huffed brushing his blond hair behind his ear. The lady made him have a shower before he was banished to ‘his room’ so now his locks felt slick but, more importantly, clean.
You’ve got issues, Hearth signed, which could have technically been interpreted as ‘you are an issue’ but Magnus assumed that former, he hoped the former.
“Of course I do; my life is that!” He gestured wildly to his backpack – still depressingly empty. Not that he expected it to suddenly contain his items again – that would be stupid and juvenile (OK, fine, he did hope but… shut-up)
“Enough chit chat,” Blitz demanded. In almost perfect sync, Magnus and Hearth held up their arm in the air in an ‘I surrender you grumpy American’ way. “We have to go.”
“Mangus,” The horrible woman, the one that ran the foster home, called. Her voice rang through the plain room and the three of them froze as if they were playing a game of musical statues. Magnus bristled with rage.
“I told you: It Magnus. M-A-G-N-U-S rhymes with-” He began.
“I don’t care. Who are you talking to?” Her voice was laced with curiosity but Magnus was certain that it was false. She was angry, and he was so ready for her to come in so he could avenge his falafel.
“Well, that’s just rude.” He huffed. Blitz was repeatedly miming cutting his own head off, oops.
She opened the door in a fashion that was way more dramatic and slow than was required but he didn’t mention it, his left eyebrow did it for him as it rose to attention. Blitz mumbled something that definitely wasn’t made for kids’ ears under his breath. Magnus snickered like the mature fourteen-year-old he was.
The lady entered the room, (Magnus was certain she did indeed have a name but he was also certain that he had absolutely no clue what it was.) For the purpose of simplicity, he was gonna refer to her as ‘Doris'. Random? Yes, it really was but he didn’t care.
“Who the hell are you two?” She demanded, glaring and the three of them in turn. Magnus gave an innocent smile and wave, and then he formed a plan.
“What?” He turned to look at his two friends a fake baffled look on his face. “What? Where the heck did you two come from?” He through his hands out to the side and shook his head and Doris, eyes wide. His act was ruined, however, by his terrible acting skills and the fact he sounded very sarcastic. He always seemed to sound sarcastic, even if he didn’t want to.
Nice try, Hearth signed. Magnus signed thanks back, even as Doris’ face turned a rather spectacular shade of pink – a shade that matched her cardigan perfectly.
“Get out of my house,” She snarled. Doris then proceeded to reach into her jean-skirt-thingy-magigy and pulled out an ancient looking phone. Magnus watched her theatrically flip it open (a flip phone, come on really?).
“Good idea,” Blitz hissed back grabbing Magnus by the arm and heading back towards the window.
“Leave him here,” She snapped, stepping towards them and brandishing her phone like a sword. It took all his self-restraint not to laugh. “That boy it being sent off to New York tomorrow where he will be placed in the care of a lovely couple. He has a future elsewhere, so don’t ruin this for him.” Her voice was deadly calm as each word seemed to land a blow to his friends. Blitz’s grip on his arm melted away into nearly nothing and Hearth looked horrified.
“I’m sorry, what?” Magnus stuttered as he tried to take it all in, which was no easy feat.
“Ignore her kid,” Blitz instructed softly but Magnus knew that his heart wasn’t in it the way it used to be.
“The only thing ruining me is the sight of you in your bloody pink cardigans. No wonder so many people wear glasses these days; the sight of them is enough to make me want to gauge my eyes out.” He snapped. Doris was mad, Blitz was baffled and Hearth looked almost amused.
He pulled on Blitz’s arms and together they headed towards the window, Doris didn’t do anything to stop them. She was busy tugging self-consciously on her precious cardigan.
“I hope you choke on my falafel,” he growled and flipped her off as Hearth climbed onto the window sill.
“I don’t like it, so I tossed it in the trash.” The silence could’ve been moulded into a mansion had it lasted more than a second. Magnus jumped at her because how very dare she?!
“Not happening, kid,” Blitz muttered as he held Magnus by the middle and all but dragged him to the window. Hearth reached out for his hand and helped him climb down.
“You’re really not going to go to New York?” Blitz asked once they were wondering down an unfamiliar street. Magnus shot his fashion-obsessed friend an amused look and shook his head.
“No: there’s nothing in New York for me.” He pulled a face at the thought. He may be homeless but that didn’t mean that he was going to throw himself into the first one that came along, especially when the price would be Blitz and Hearth.
“You could have a new life, with friends and a home,” Blitz interjected, brow furrowed. Magnus threw his head back and laughed.
“You should get a job at that home,” he nodded to the dark building behind them. “You do a much better job of selling it than her.”
We are serious, Hearth signed. His usual chill friend was tense and Magnus didn’t like it one bit.
“So am I. I don’t need friends.” He smiled at the two of them. “I already have the best ones ever,” he grinned and held out a hand for his backpack that Blitz soundlessly passed over.
Good, His tall, pale friend nodded. The lost looks on their faces vanished and Magnus would be lying if he said he would miss them.
Blitz and Hearth shared a look that Magnus wanted no part of and stood closer together. Magnus marched adamantly in front of them, he was tempted to put his hands over his ears but thought that might be a tad insensitive.
He swung his backpack over his shoulders and shifted into a jog towards Fadlan’s Falafel. It was late and the bins wouldn’t have been emptied yet and although it was gross he would take it. He would take falafel any day pretty much.
He heard Blitz shout his name behind him. “Can’t talk now; I’ve got a date with destiny.” After a moment he skidded to a stop with a jolt and pivoted on his heel. Cautiously, he watched his two friends march towards him and ran to them.
Now, he wasn’t really much of a hugger but he was hoping that maybe he would be able to make an exception, just once. He threw his arms around Blitz and the Hearth, “thank you,” he muttered, face red.
They didn’t comment on his behaviour, only smiled at him and moved to follow him towards the falafel shop. As he ran a cold breeze brushed through his hair, like the fingers of a parent. Magnus grinned and moved faster.
Yeah, he’d be OK.