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The apprentice asked to speak to me after lunch. That's how it started. Nothing dramatic. Just a kid asking for a word. I'd been wearing the hoodie for about two weeks by then. Got absolutely ripped for it at first. "What's that soft shite on your back?" "Gone all mental health have we?" "Careful lads, Big Jim's got feelings now." I let it roll off. Thirty years in construction. You learn to ignore the banter. But this kid. Ryan. Nineteen years old. First year on the tools. He'd been watching me different. I noticed him reading my back during tea breaks. Clocked him staring when we were queuing for the butty van. Caught him looking in the morning when I walked across site. Figured he was just curious. Maybe working up the courage to ask where I got it. Then he asked for that word. We went round the back of the portacabin. Away from the lads. Somewhere quiet. And he just stood there. Couldn't look at me. Hands shaking. "Take your time," I said. He took a breath. Then another. Then finally looked up. "I've got rope in my car." My stomach dropped through the floor. "Had it there for two weeks. Been thinking about it every night. Got a spot picked out and everything. Down by the canal. Nobody goes there after dark." I didn't say anything. Just let him talk. "I don't know why I'm telling you this," he said. "We've known each other three months. You're just my foreman." He paused. "But I keep reading your hoodie. Every day. And I keep thinking... maybe someone actually means it. Maybe someone actually gives a shit if I'm here or not." His voice cracked on the last word. I'd been in construction for thirty years. Seen accidents. Seen injuries. Seen a man fall four storeys and walk away. Seen another fall two and never walk again. But I'd never seen anything like this. A nineteen-year-old kid. Standing behind a portacabin. Telling me he had rope in his car. Because he'd been reading my back for two weeks. I didn't know what to say. I'm not a therapist. Not trained for this. I'm just a foreman who wears a hoodie. So I just hugged him. Right there. Two blokes in hi-vis. Behind a portacabin. Me holding this kid while he sobbed into my shoulder. We stood there for maybe ten minutes. Maybe longer. I lost track. When he finally pulled back, his face was a mess. Snot everywhere. Couldn't look at me. "Sorry," he said. "That was embarrassing." "No it wasn't," I said. "That was brave. Bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do on a site." We talked for another hour. Sat on a pallet. Just the two of us. He told me about his dad leaving. About his mum's new boyfriend. About the debt he'd got himself into trying to pay for his van. About feeling like he was already a failure at nineteen. I listened. Didn't try to fix it. Just listened. Then I made some calls. Got him an emergency GP appointment for that afternoon. Called his mum. Told her what was going on. She broke down on the phone. Drove him to the appointment myself. Sat in the waiting room while he went in. When he came out, he had a referral. Therapy starting next week. Follow-up in three days. We drove back to his mum's house. I watched him go inside. Watched her hug him in the doorway. Then I went home and cried in my driveway for twenty minutes. Because that could have been different. If he hadn't read my back. If he hadn't asked for that word. If he'd just got in his car that night and driven to the canal. He's still on the tools. Still on my site. Getting help now. And he wears the same hoodie. Bought it the week after. Wears it under his hi-vis. Same as me. Now there's two of us. Two backs with the same message. And last month, a groundworker came up to Ryan during a tea break. "Can I have a word, mate?" Same way it started with me. Same scared look on his face. Ryan took him round the back of the portacabin. Listened. Made calls. Did what I did. Now there's three of us. Three hoodies. Same message. And we're not losing anyone else. Front says "You're Enough." Back says "Dear person behind me, the world is a better place with you in it. Love, the person in front of you." The apprentice asked to speak to me after lunch. Told me he had rope in his car. Two weeks of reading my back made him say something instead of using it. That's why I wear it. That's why we all wear it now. Because you never know who's behind you. And you never know what's in their car.