The little bell above the door jingled as Aiden stepped into Cosmic Wonders, the space-themed shop he practically lived in. Posters of distant galaxies and tiny models of rockets hung from the ceiling, and the faint smell of new paper and plastic greeted him like an old friend.

“Morning, Aiden!” called Mr. Phelps, the shop owner. “Back for another telescope inspection?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Aiden said, grinning. He leaned over the counter, carefully examining the small telescope he carried in his pocket. It had been a gift from his dad before he passed, and Aiden treated it like a treasure — more than just a tool to look at the stars, it was a piece of his dad he could still hold onto.

“Loyal as ever,” Mr. Phelps chuckled. “I swear, you know more about these gadgets than I do.”

Aiden smiled wider. “I guess I just like knowing I can rely on something… something my dad gave me.” He brushed his fingers over the telescope, then carefully slid it back into his pocket, tucking it in as he headed out. Ready. Reliable. Meaningful.

Across the street, Jason was already there, standing with that calm, serious look Aiden had grown used to. Despite the chaos of school, of life, of twelve younger siblings at home, Jason’s presence always grounded him.

“Morning, Rich Kid!” Aiden called, jogging up beside him. His big smile was in place, bright enough to chase away the fatigue of the day. Jason didn’t even roll his eyes, but Aiden didn’t mind. That was okay. He talked, Jason listened. That was enough.

By the time they reached school, Mr. Griggs was already waiting with his usual scowl. Trash bags. Grabbers. Orders barked like they were convicts. The others groaned and muttered, but Aiden slung the bag over his shoulder with a grin.

“Hey, look at us — saving the planet one soda can at a time,” he whispered to Jason, who kept walking silently. Jason’s jaw was tight, movements sharp. Aiden watched him carefully, knowing better than to push — Jason didn’t need talking, just space.

For the next hour and a half, Aiden worked alongside the group. He hummed quietly, cracking small jokes when he could, trying to make the work feel lighter. Some kids rolled their eyes; Colin muttered curses; Nina focused intensely, barely speaking. Jason moved like a shadow, precise and silent, his hand brushing the pocket knife his dad had given him. Aiden noticed, but said nothing.

When Mr. Griggs finally dismissed them, relief washed over the group — for a moment, Aiden almost laughed, almost felt free. But that relief didn’t last.

The jocks and cheerleaders were waiting in the courtyard, smirks plastered across their faces. Aiden felt his stomach twist, but he squared his shoulders. They wouldn’t scare him. Not completely.

When the cheerleader snatched Nina’s bag, Aiden flinched but didn’t step forward. Jason did. He towered over the jock, voice low and dangerous: Drop it.

Then came the shove. The crack of Jason’s back hitting the railing made Aiden’s stomach drop. He rushed forward. “Jason!”

Jason gritted his teeth, straightened as best he could, and Aiden reached for him, steadying him as the sting in his arm flared. He hated seeing his best friend hurt, hated feeling so helpless.

Then a calm, powerful voice cut the air: “That’s enough.”

A man in a dark coat strode toward them, moving with authority. Jason’s dad. Aiden froze, heart thudding. Recognition struck instantly. Of course. I’ve heard stories.

The man helped Jason to his feet, steadying him. The bullies scattered immediately under his gaze. Nina got her bag back, clutching it to her chest. Stephanie and the others muttered thanks, still shaken.

Aiden’s eyes never left Michael Wayne. He felt a mix of awe and relief — here was someone who could protect Jason the way Aiden always wanted to, the way he wished he could protect his own little sister.

Jason, pale but standing, finally muttered, “Thanks, Dad.”

Michael only placed a steady hand on his son’s shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ll always be here.”

Aiden’s chest tightened at the words. He smiled anyway, wide and bright, as he always did. For Jason, for the group, for himself. Someone had to keep the light in the moment, and he would.

Even as the courtyard quieted, Aiden felt a tug in his pocket. His telescope was there, small and familiar, reminding him that even when life felt overwhelming, some things — and some people — were steady.

And with Jason at his side, Aiden felt like maybe, just maybe, they could handle anything together.