Jeremy was already in the office when I came in with Malik. He sat slouched in the chair nearest the window, eyes a little vacant, face unreadable — though the bags under his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

Rough night. No doubt.

I wanted to ask. Just a “You good?” or maybe even bump his shoulder and joke that he looked like someone’s overworked uncle. But there was no time. Everyone was on schedule for once, no rescheduling, no last-minute panics, no chaos in the waiting room.

I’d met Malik’s mom downstairs. She was waiting near the desk, nervously rubbing at the strap of her bag like it would keep her grounded. She smiled when she saw me. A tired smile, but a real one. I greeted her warmly — told her, again, that I’d do my best. That I’d see this through. She was one of those women you wanted to root for. Kind. Soft-spoken. Always carrying more than she should have to.

Now Malik trailed in beside me. He was taller than I remembered, a little more closed-off in his stance, chin up like he was preparing for war.

“Hey, Malik,” I said gently, “you want anything? Got some snacks.”

He eyed the small bowl on the table like it might bite him. I picked up the granola bar and handed it to him anyway. He took it, shrugged, sat.

I motioned toward Jeremy. “This is Jeremy. He’s helping out with the program moving forward.”

Malik nodded slowly, side-eyeing Jeremy the way kids did when they were trying to figure out if an adult was full of it.

Jeremy, to his credit, pushed himself upright and offered a small smile. “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” Malik replied, cautious but polite.

Jeremy looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. His jaw flexed. His fingers tapped his thigh twice before going still. I wondered what kept him up last night.

But now wasn’t the time.

“All right,” I said, settling into the seat across from them both. “No pressure today. Just talking. Getting to know each other."

I looked between them, hoping the rest of this would flow, hoping Jeremy would ease into it despite whatever weight he was dragging behind him today.

And hoping Malik would let us in. 

Jeremy cleared his throat. “So,” he said, eyes flicking to Malik. “I heard you like football.”

That earned him a small nod. Barely noticeable, but it was there.

Jeremy leaned forward a little. “What’s your team?”

“Real Madrid,” Malik said, almost too fast — like he thought he was going to be judged for it.

Jeremy blinked. Then made a face like he’d been personally betrayed.

“Oh wow,” he said. “This meeting is officially cancelled.”

Malik cracked half a smile.

“Barça?” Malik asked.

“Obviously,” Jeremy replied, feigning offense. “Messi is the greatest of all time. I don't make the rules.”

I chuckled from the side. “You two are both wrong. The only real team is Liverpool.”

They both turned to look at me like I’d said I enjoyed cold oatmeal.

“Liverpool hasn’t been good since before I was born,” Malik muttered, just barely loud enough.

I held a hand to my chest, mock wounded. “You wound me, truly.”

Jeremy laughed then — actually laughed, like something had finally lifted off his chest. He relaxed into the chair and looked back at Malik with more warmth.

“I’ll give you this,” he said. “Madrid fans are loyal. Gotta respect that.”

Malik smirked. “Better than picking a team just because of one player.”

“Watch it,” Jeremy warned playfully.

The air in the room had shifted. Lighter. Easier.

It wasn’t much. Just football banter, but it was something. And for the first time in a long while, I could see that maybe… just maybe… they’d be able to meet each other in the middle. 

Jeremy tilted his head. “So, do you play too? Or just watch?”

Malik hesitated. His fingers were picking at the edge of the snack wrapper. He shrugged, eyes flicking to the floor. “I used to.”

I could already feel the change in the air. His voice was quieter now.

“Why’d you stop?” Jeremy asked, gentle this time. No teasing in it.

Malik's jaw twitched. “Things got tough. At home.”

Jeremy didn’t push. He just nodded and waited.

“My dad… he left last year.” Malik's voice cracked slightly, but he kept going. “He just packed up one day and never came back. My mom cried every day for months. And people—family—kept saying it was her fault. Like she did something wrong. She didn’t.”

He stopped. Took a breath that sounded more like a shudder.

“I started getting in trouble at school. Fighting. I don’t even know why sometimes. I just—I felt like this volcano. Like I couldn’t stop it once it started. And it just… exploded.”

He looked up then, eyes red but angry too. “And now everything I do just makes her sadder. I hate it. I hate seeing her cry and knowing it’s my fault. But I don’t know how to stop. It’s like I make things worse just by being around.”

I felt my chest tighten. I’d seen that look before. Worn it, even.

Jeremy was still. 

Malik went quiet again. His mouth opened like he was going to say more, but then he looked down at the table. 

Jeremy leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped. He let a breath out slow, like he was weighing the words before he said them.

“I get it,” he said finally. “That volcano thing? I used to feel that way too. All the time.”

Malik glanced up at him, curious but guarded.

“I wasn’t always good at… keeping things together,” Jeremy went on. “I used to fight. A lot. Shout, break stuff, blow up at people who didn’t deserve it. I hurt people. People I cared about. I didn’t think I could change, honestly, I didn’t think I deserved to.”

He looked at me for a moment. I just gave a small nod, letting him know he could keep going.

“But I got help. Eventually. After pushing it off for way too long, thinking it made me weak to need it. I used to think asking for help meant I’d lost.”

He paused and looked back at Malik. “But getting help is actually how I started to win. Started to feel like myself, like someone I didn’t have to be ashamed of.”

“And you know what’s funny?” Jeremy added, glancing at me again with a small smile. “Me and Donovan, back when we were teenagers? We were close. Like, really close.”

I raised an eyebrow at that choice of phrasing.

Jeremy laughed under his breath. “I didn’t always make the best decisions. Or handle things well. But we figured it out. And I’m lucky because I still get to have him in my life. We’re friends again. And I’m a better person now than I was back then.”

I smiled faintly, caught off guard by the softness in his tone.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I know what it’s like to be angry. To carry stuff that feels too heavy. But that doesn’t make you broken. It just means you’re carrying more than you should alone.”

Malik didn’t say anything right away. He looked at Jeremy like maybe for the first time in a while someone really saw him.

I watched Malik’s shoulders shift, his grip loosening, his mouth parting like he might say something — but didn’t yet. His eyes were still on Jeremy, who had managed, in just a few sentences, to speak to something I knew that boy hadn’t said out loud before.

So I stepped in, gently.

“Jeremy’s right,” I said, keeping my tone even, calm. “You’re not broken, Malik. Angry, yeah. Hurt? Definitely. But those things don’t define you.”

He finally looked at me, and I gave him a small smile, one I hoped landed where he needed it most.

“You know,” I added, “when I first met you, your mom… she was scared. Not of you. For you. She wasn’t crying because you disappointed her. She was crying because she doesn’t know how to help and she loves you so much it hurts.”

His eyes dropped to the floor again, but his jaw tensed.

“And I told her then, and I’ll tell you now,” I continued, “you don’t have to figure it all out today. You just need people around you who want to see you do better. Be better. People who believe you can.”

“Look,” Jeremy said, sitting back in his chair, “we’re not here to lecture you. We’re here because we see something in you. That’s it. And if you’ll let us, we want to help.”

Malik shifted uneasily in his seat, his eyes flickering between Jeremy and me. He took a deep breath before speaking, his voice quiet but full of emotion. “It’s just… hard, you know? I want to do better, but it feels like every time I try, I mess up. My mom’s always upset, and I don’t know how to fix things with her. She doesn’t deserve all this. I don’t want to disappoint her, but sometimes I feel like I already have.”

The words came out in a rush, and I could see how difficult it was for him to even say them. I watched as his hands fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, like he was trying to hold onto some sense of control, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Jeremy leaned forward, his voice soft but firm. “Hey, it’s okay to feel like this, Malik. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

But Malik shook his head, his voice growing more tense. “But what if I do mess up again? What if I get too comfortable? I’ve had case workers before, and they’ve been nice, but they all leave once I start opening up, once I start letting my guard down. I don’t want you guys to do that, too. I don’t want to mess things up with you.”

There was a raw honesty in his words, and it hit me hard. I could see the fear in his eyes, the fear that if he let himself trust us, we might just leave him too. He had been hurt before, and now, even though he wanted to believe in us, the fear of being let down was too strong.

Jeremy and I exchanged a glance. I could tell Jeremy was thinking the same thing I was — Malik wasn’t just talking about himself here. He was talking about every time he had been let down by someone in the past. And now he was trying to protect himself from that same pain.

“Listen,” Jeremy said gently, his tone steady. “We’re not going anywhere. It’s not about being perfect, Malik. It’s about us being here, no matter what. We’re not going to leave you just because you make mistakes or feel too comfortable. We want to help you, and we’re here for the long haul.”

I nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s not about being perfect. It’s about us supporting you. We’re not giving up on you.”

Malik looked down at his hands again, the words sinking in but clearly weighing on him. It was hard for him to let go of that fear, that instinct to hold back before he got hurt again.

Jeremy cleared his throat, shifting the conversation a bit to make things lighter. “So, there’s this place called the Indigo Initiative. It focuses on helping kids who are figuring out what they need in life, whether it’s with family or school or just… life in general. They focus a lot on creating a space where you can be yourself without any pressure.”

Malik stayed quiet, but I noticed his posture stiffen at the mention of the initiative. There was something in the air, something unspoken. His eyes flickered away, as if he was trying to hide whatever he was feeling.

“You okay?” Jeremy asked, his voice concerned. “You look a little… unsure. It’s okay if you don’t know how you feel about it yet.”

"It’s like I’m trying to figure myself out, but every time I try, it feels like I mess up. I’m scared of doing anything about it, to be honest. I keep getting into these fights, and I don’t want to be that person.”

I could feel the weight of his words, the rawness of his vulnerability.  For so long, I’d kept quiet, too afraid to stand up for myself when the bullies came after me. I remember how I would curl up inside myself, terrified of any confrontation, of showing anyone the pain that I kept locked away. I never fought back. I was too scared. I was afraid of getting hurt, of losing everything. 

But Malik? He wasn’t backing down. He wasn’t afraid to fight for himself, even if it meant being punished for it. There was something brave about that. me.

He paused, frustration thick in his voice. “They pick on me, I defend myself and then I get in trouble."

I leaned forward, trying to keep my voice steady. “There’s no reason to bully someone, Malik. Nobody should ever be made to feel like that. What are they trying to get out of it?”

“The reason they keep picking on me…” he started, voice quieter now, his eyes looking anywhere but at us. “They think I’m gay. And I guess… I guess that makes me an easy target for them."

The words hung in the air, and I felt something in my chest tighten.  I’d been there....I was there still sometimes. The feeling of being attacked for something that wasn’t even a choice, just being, was all too familiar.

But as I looked at Malik, something inside me snapped. I didn’t want him to feel like I had, like I was. The kind of pain he was describing was the kind I’d lived through for so long. 

Jeremy glanced at me with concern as though he wanted to reach out to me. I offered him a reassuring smile, although I was struggling in this moment. 

But my mind was still stuck on what Malik had said. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.

That part of me, the one that had been broken so many times, flared up again. It was like an instinct, like I needed to protect him from feeling the way I had.

“There’s no reason for anyone to bully you for being who you are, Malik,” I said, my voice low but firm. It wasn’t just something I wanted him to hear—it was something I needed him to understand. “And if anyone tells you otherwise, they’re wrong."

For a moment, my mind flashed back to those years, the years when I was that kid, the one who was constantly picked on. And it all came rushing back: the fists, the words, the isolation. That kind of pain doesn’t just go away. You carry it with you, even if you don’t want to.

Jeremy’s voice cut through my thoughts, softening the moment. “Donovan’s right. It’s not easy, but that’s why we’re here, okay? We’ve got your back. And no one’s going to give up on you—not this time.”

I glanced over at Jeremy, trying to hide the fact that his words felt like they were landing too close to home for me. I didn’t want that for Malik, but I also knew it wasn’t that simple. We couldn’t just fix him, not with words alone.

But we could try.

Malik looked up, his eyes wide, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe us. “You really mean it?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. “You won’t just stop caring if I mess up?”

I couldn’t help it. The words came out before I could stop them. “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore. But you have to know, you don’t have to carry everything by yourself. You can ask for help. And we’re here to give it.”

For a split second, I saw a glimmer of something in Malik’s eyes, maybe hope? I couldn’t be sure, but it was enough to make me feel like maybe this was worth it.

I could feel the tension inside me easing, but then, just as quickly, something flickered in my chest. Malik wasn’t just dealing with the surface stuff—the bullying, the fights. He was dealing with himself too. And that was something we couldn’t fix in one conversation. But maybe it was a start.