You spot him before he sees you—standing outside the little corner coffee shop, leaning casually against the brick wall like he owns the place. Derek’s dressed in jeans and a dark hoodie, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the watch you always tease him about. His eyes are scanning the sidewalk, and the second they find you, his face softens.

“There’s my favorite person,” he says, smiling as you walk up.

You give a half-smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He notices. Of course he does.

The two of you order—he pays, despite your protest—and settle into a booth by the window. The quiet hum of conversation and the smell of roasted coffee beans fill the air. You wrap your hands around your drink, staring at the swirl of foam like it might give you answers.

“You’ve been quiet,” Derek says gently. “Talk to me.”

You hesitate. Then sigh. “School’s been… hard. Like, harder than usual. I’m trying, but—” You stop, eyes fixed on the table. “It feels like I’m failing. At everything.”

Derek doesn’t speak right away. He just lets the silence hold you like a blanket. Then he leans forward, voice low and calm.

“Listen to me,” he says. “You’re not failing. Struggling doesn’t mean failure—it means you’re still fighting.”

You blink quickly, trying not to get emotional, but it’s hard when someone actually sees you.

“I know I’m not your dad,” he adds, softer now, “but I love you like you're mine. And I’m proud of you. Not for being perfect—for getting up every time it gets hard. For showing up. That’s strength.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, but when you finally look up, he’s still there. Steady. Unmoving. Like he always is.

“I’ve got you, kid,” he says. “Always.”