Hence getting out of the facility, he had become homeless. Well, of course, he had, he had had basically zero education and couldn't understand jobs. He couldn't even do jobs like hauling packages to trucks because his body was so weak. Most of the time he spent outside was on a bench. All of the time he spent outside was on a bench. At least he hadn't broken down again. At least he still wore a smile.
Austin had done...poorly. He had been alone, confused, and he really didn't know what he was doing-at least he knew how to read-a little, at least...when his ass had gotten unceremoniously dumped out of the facility, he had only been 15. For three years, he had been homeless, living on the streets, more or less starving. But he had discovered one thing he enjoyed-music. Just-any music...it was something for him to focus on, other than his shit situation. He HAD managed to get a job for a little while when he turned 18-he had worked as a gas station attendant-but he got laid off after only a year-something about having a "bad temperament"-plus he had been stealing food from the convenience store when no one was looking. He had lost his job, lost his greasy, sketchy room at a rundown motel-but he DID still have one thing-the used, beat up guitar he'd bought at a garage sale. It was absolutely worthless-and yet he cherished the fuck out of that thing. He taught himself to play-and even now, even homeless, playing that thing was one of the few things that made him happy. Well-that and thinking about a certain someone...