The Touch - Rewrite

Shortly after dinner, the house phone began to ring, the sharp sound cutting cleanly through the comfortable rhythm the evening had settled into. Natalie excused herself almost immediately, offering a small smile before she disappeared into the kitchen to answer it. The rest of us remained at the table, the warmth of the room and the quiet clatter of dishes still lingering in the air.

Gavin leaned closer to me as soon as she was gone, picking up right where he had left off without missing a beat. He talked fast, like the thoughts were already there and just needed somewhere to go. He told me about his school in New York, about the honors program he was in, about the extra work he had taken on because the regular classes weren’t enough to keep him interested. I didn’t understand all of it—not the way he explained things or the way he seemed to already have everything planned out—but I understood the excitement behind it.

“I want to design video games,” he said, his voice lighting up in a way that made it impossible not to pay attention. “Like, not just play them—actually make them. Build everything from the ground up. Worlds, characters, all of it.”

I found myself nodding along, watching him more than anything else, caught up in the way he talked about it.

“That sounds… really cool,” I said quietly, meaning it.

“It is,” he replied instantly, grinning like there wasn’t any doubt about it. “I’ll make you a character someday. You can be completely broken—like, overpowered to the point where it ruins the game.”

A small laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it, softer than his but real enough that I noticed it.

For a moment, everything felt normal.

Then Natalie came back.

I noticed the difference before she even said anything. The way she walked back into the room wasn’t the same as when she had left. Her shoulders were tighter, her expression more controlled, like she was already thinking ahead of whatever she was about to say. Greg saw it too. He always seemed to.

“What’s wrong, Natalie?” he asked, his voice calm but focused now.

“That was Karen,” she replied.

The words hit harder than they should have.

My stomach dropped instantly, the warmth in the room fading as something colder took its place. My thoughts moved faster than I could control, jumping straight to the worst place without stopping anywhere in between.

This is it.

She’s coming back.

I felt my hands tighten slightly in my lap, my fingers curling into themselves as I tried to keep still, tried to keep my face from giving anything away.

“She asked if she could place another little boy with us,” Natalie continued, her eyes shifting toward me. “He’s six, and his mother just died of an overdose.”

The words didn’t settle right away.

Another boy.

Not me.

Not being taken away.

I blinked, my thoughts stuttering as the tension in my chest shifted into something else—confusion first, then something heavier that I couldn’t quite place yet.

“What about the father?” Greg asked.

“In prison,” Natalie said quietly. “Murder.”

Greg nodded once, like he had already processed it, like the answer didn’t change anything for him. Then he looked at me.

“I’m okay with it,” he said simply, “if Zachary is.”

Everything in me stilled.

Natalie turned toward me fully now, her expression softer but still serious, like she meant every part of what she was saying. “Zachary?”

I stared at them, the question taking a second to even make sense.

“Why would you ask me?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

“Because you’re part of this family,” Natalie said gently, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That means you get a say. We value your opinion just as much as ours.”

She paused briefly, watching me carefully.

“And we want to make sure you’re okay with it,” she added. “This changes things for you too.”

The words settled slowly, one at a time.

Part of the family.

A say.

I looked down at the table, my thoughts starting to tangle together as I tried to sort through them. Another kid meant change. It meant attention being split. It meant things being different than they were now.

It meant risking something I had just started to feel safe in.

The thought sat there, quiet but real.

Then something else pushed through it.

Six years old.

His mom just died.

The image came without permission—a smaller version of me, standing somewhere unfamiliar, not understanding why everything had changed all at once. The silence. The waiting. The way nobody explained anything. The way it felt like the world had just… stopped.

I knew what that felt like.

I had lived it.

My fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the table before I lifted my head again, my chest still tight but not for the same reason anymore.

“It doesn’t matter about me,” I said quietly at first, the words slower this time, like I had to push them out instead of letting them fall. “He… he doesn’t have anyone.”

My voice wavered just slightly, but I didn’t stop.

“You helped me,” I added, glancing between them. “You made things better.”

I took a small breath, steadying myself.

“He deserves that too.”

The room went still for a second.

Natalie moved first.

She stepped forward and pulled me into a tight hug, holding me close in a way that felt stronger than before, like she understood what it had taken for me to say that. When she pulled back, there was a tear in her eye, but she smiled anyway.

“I need to call Karen back,” she said softly before turning and heading into the kitchen again.

Greg watched her go, then looked back at me, something different in his expression now—something steadier, more certain.

“You surprise me more and more every day, Zachary,” he said, reaching out to tousle my hair gently. “I’m very proud of you.”

Heat crept into my face, and I looked down again, unsure what to do with that feeling.

A few minutes passed before Natalie returned, her composure steadier now, like the decision had already been made and accepted.

“Karen will be here in about an hour,” she said. “I’m going to get the spare room ready.”

She disappeared down the hallway before anyone could respond.

Greg glanced over at Gavin. “You okay bunking with Zachary tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Gavin said immediately, his grin wide and easy, like nothing about this felt complicated to him.

I felt my face warm again, but this time I didn’t look away.

The house didn’t feel the same anymore.

But it didn’t feel worse.

Just… different.

And waiting.

“Do you want me to help you set up your phone?”

Gavin’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, grounding me back in the room. The table had mostly been cleared by then, Greg and Geoff moving quietly between the kitchen and dining room while Natalie disappeared down the hallway to get the spare room ready. I looked down at the phone still in my hands and nodded.

“Okay.”

Gavin slid his chair closer to mine, not hesitating at all as he leaned in. “Let me see it.”

I passed it over carefully, still holding it like it might disappear if I wasn’t paying attention. He turned it on, his fingers moving quickly and confidently across the screen as he started walking me through everything. “This is your home screen,” he said, tapping lightly. “You can move stuff around later, but for now we’ll just get you set up. You’ve already got some apps installed, which is nice.”

I leaned in slightly, watching every movement, trying to follow along as he explained it. It was a lot, but the way he showed me—step by step, not rushing—made it easier to keep up. Before long, he had me holding it again.

“Alright,” he said, sitting back slightly. “Your turn. Try opening that.”

I hesitated for a second before doing what he said, tapping the icon a little more carefully than I probably needed to.

“There you go,” he said, grinning. “See? Easy.”

It didn’t take long before he had me trying out different things—opening apps, closing them, switching between screens. Eventually, that turned into games, simple ones at first, then slightly faster ones that made me react instead of think. At some point, we were both playing, competing without saying it out loud, laughing quietly when one of us messed up. The tension from earlier hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had shifted again, settling somewhere quieter in the background instead of sitting at the front of everything.

Then the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the room instantly, sharper this time, and both Natalie and Greg moved toward the front door together, their voices low and calm as they went. Geoff stepped into the dining room a second later, his presence quieter than before, like he was matching the tone of the moment as he lowered himself into the chair beside me.

“Hey, guys,” he said.

“Hey, Dad,” Gavin replied, still focused on his phone.

I glanced between them briefly before looking back down at mine, my fingers resting lightly against the screen. A second later, Greg reappeared in the doorway.

“Zach?” he said, his voice calm. “Can you come with me for a second?”

I looked up immediately, my stomach tightening just slightly, not out of fear this time, but something closer to anticipation. I nodded and set my phone down carefully on the table before standing, my movements slower than his as I followed him toward the living room.

“Hey,” Geoff said quietly before I could leave the room completely.

I paused and turned back toward him. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table, his expression steady but softer than it had been earlier.

“He’s going to be scared,” he said, his voice low enough that it didn’t carry past the room. “Probably more than he knows how to deal with. He’s not going to understand what’s happening, or why he’s here, or what comes next.”

I swallowed, my chest tightening again, but not in the same way as before.

“But he’ll understand you,” Geoff added, meeting my eyes. “More than anyone else here.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. “I… how?” I asked quietly.

Geoff’s expression softened just slightly. “You don’t have to say everything perfectly. You don’t need to fix anything. Just listen to him. Stay with him. Let him know he’s not alone. That’s what matters.”

I stood there for a second, letting the words settle. Not fixing it. Not solving it. Just being there.

“I can do that,” I said quietly.

Geoff nodded once. “I know you can.”

Something shifted in my chest again, not the same tightness, not the same fear. It felt steadier. Heavier in a different way. I turned back toward the hallway, my steps slower at first, then more certain as I followed Greg toward the living room. The closer we got, the more I could feel it building again—not panic, not like before, but something close to it. Anticipation. Nerves. The weight of knowing what was waiting on the other side of the room.

I reached up without thinking and took Greg’s hand.

He didn’t react to it.

He just held it.

And kept walking.

I took a small breath, steadying myself as we reached the doorway.

I knew what this felt like.

I had been here before.

Just not like this.

Not from this side.

I walked into the living room beside Greg, my grip tightening slightly as we stepped inside. The nerves were still there, sitting just under the surface, but they didn’t feel the same as before. They weren’t sharp or overwhelming. Just… there.

Karen stood near the doorway, her posture calm but attentive, like she was watching everything at once. Beside her was a small boy.

My attention locked onto him immediately.

He looked even younger than six, smaller somehow, like he was trying to take up as little space as possible. His brown hair curled slightly around his ears, uneven like it hadn’t been cut in a while, and his hazel eyes were wide, unfocused, filled with something deeper than just fear.

He looked lost.

I slowed my steps without thinking. The boy shifted slightly behind Karen, pressing closer to her side like he was trying to disappear into her.

He might run.

The thought came quickly.

So I stopped.

I didn’t move any closer right away. Instead, I crouched down slowly, lowering myself to one knee so I wasn’t towering over him. My hands rested loosely in front of me at first, then I opened my arms just slightly—not reaching, not forcing, just… there.

“It’s okay, Toby,” Karen said softly, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “This is Zachary. You can trust him. He gives really good hugs.”

Toby didn’t move.

He tightened his grip on her pant leg instead, his fingers bunching the fabric as he peeked out from behind her. His eyes moved from her… to me… then back again, like he wasn’t sure which one of us was safer.

I stayed where I was.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t push.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly, my voice softer than I expected it to be. “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to.”

He blinked at that.

Something shifted, just slightly.

“I’ve been there before,” I added, the words coming slower now, not rehearsed, not planned. “Not knowing where you’re going. Not knowing what’s going to happen next.”

My chest tightened as I said it, but I didn’t stop.

“It’s… really scary,” I admitted.

Toby’s grip loosened just a little.

“But you’re not alone here,” I continued, keeping my voice steady. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

Karen’s hand moved gently against his shoulder again, encouraging but not pushing.

He looked up at her.

Then back at me.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t reach.

Just waited.

After a few seconds, he took a small step forward.

Then stopped.

His eyes dropped to the floor, then lifted again, uncertain, like he was still deciding if this was a mistake.

“It’s okay,” I said again, softer this time.

That was enough.

He moved.

It wasn’t fast, and it wasn’t confident, but it was real. He stepped away from Karen and toward me, his movements hesitant, like he might turn back at any second. When he got close enough, he didn’t stop—he just leaned forward.

And then he was in my arms.

I caught him carefully, wrapping my arms around him without squeezing too tight, letting him settle against me instead of pulling him in. For a second, he stayed stiff, his body tense, like he didn’t fully trust it yet.

Then he broke.

A small sound escaped him at first, barely there, and then it grew, turning into quiet, uneven sobs as he pressed his face into my shoulder. His hands clutched at my shirt, holding on like I might disappear if he didn’t.

That was when I noticed it.

The small backpack still hanging off his shoulders, the straps twisted from the way he had been clinging to Karen. It pressed awkwardly between us, like he hadn’t taken it off since he got here—like it was the only thing he still had control over.

I shifted slightly, careful not to disturb him.

Greg stepped forward.

“I’ve got it,” he said quietly.

He reached out and gently slid the backpack off Toby’s shoulders, moving slowly so he wouldn’t startle him. Toby tensed for just a second at the movement, his grip tightening again, but he didn’t pull away.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, keeping my voice low and steady.

Greg stepped back with the bag in hand.

Without it there, Toby settled more fully against me, his weight heavier now as the crying slowly started to wear itself out. I adjusted my hold slightly, supporting him better as he leaned into me.

“It’s okay,” I murmured near his ear. “You don’t have to hold it in anymore.”

His crying deepened for a moment, then began to taper off, the sharp edges softening into quiet, uneven breaths.

“You’re safe here,” I continued. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. I promise.”

Behind me, the room had gone quiet.

“Well,” Karen said softly after a moment, her voice gentler than I had ever heard it, “I think that answers my question.”

“What was it?” Natalie asked quietly.

“I was going to make sure Zachary was comfortable with all of this,” Karen replied.

I barely heard them.

Toby’s grip tightened again briefly before loosening, his small body sagging against mine as exhaustion started to take over. I shifted my arms again, making sure he wouldn’t slip.

“He’s almost a different person,” Karen added quietly.

“You’re telling me,” Natalie said, her voice carrying a quiet kind of pride. “He’s come a long way.”

“I think this is exactly why I called you,” Karen continued. “You and Greg… you know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you, Karen,” Natalie replied softly.

Karen stepped closer, her hand brushing gently over Toby’s hair before she pressed a light kiss to the top of his head.

“Toby,” she said quietly, “you’re in a very safe place. Natalie and Greg will take care of you, and Zachary…”

She paused slightly.

“…Zachary’s going to be right there with you.”

Toby nodded weakly against my shoulder, his breathing uneven but starting to slow.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Karen said to Natalie. “We can arrange for his things then.”

“Of course,” Natalie replied.

Karen stepped back, her gaze shifting to me. She reached out and gently touched my cheek before pressing a soft kiss there.

“I’m proud of you, Zachary,” she said quietly. “Take good care of him.”

“I will,” I whispered, careful not to disturb Toby as his weight settled more heavily against me.

“Since it looks like everything’s under control,” Karen added, her voice softer now, “I’ll let you all get settled.”

Natalie walked her to the door, their voices fading into the background as they spoke quietly. I stayed where I was, not moving, not shifting, just holding Toby as his breathing evened out.

After a moment, Natalie returned and knelt down in front of me. She brushed a piece of hair back from my face, her expression warm and steady.

“Do you want to help me get him ready for bed?” she asked softly.

I nodded.

Carefully, gently, she reached out and lifted Toby from my arms. He stirred slightly, letting out a small sound before settling against her chest instead, his face still buried against her shoulder.

Greg stepped in beside her, picking up the small backpack again.

“We’ll be right back,” he said quietly.

I stood slowly, watching Toby for just a second longer before following them toward the stairs.

Natalie turned into the room directly across from mine, pushing the door open gently with her shoulder as she carried Toby inside. The room had already been prepared for him. The bed was turned down neatly, the blankets smoothed flat, and a small lamp cast a soft, warm glow that made everything feel quieter the moment we stepped inside.

She moved carefully, lowering him onto the bed like even the smallest movement might wake him. Toby shifted slightly as he was set down, his small hands tightening briefly in the fabric of her shirt before slowly letting go when he realized he wasn’t being left alone.

Greg stepped in behind us, still holding the small backpack.

“Let’s get him comfortable,” he said quietly.

I stayed near the doorway at first, unsure where I was supposed to stand or what I was supposed to do. The room felt different from the rest of the house—slower, softer, like everything inside it needed to be handled carefully.

Greg set the backpack down near the foot of the bed before helping ease Toby’s coat the rest of the way off. Natalie kept one hand resting lightly on the boy, her thumb moving in slow, absent circles against his arm as she murmured something too quiet for me to hear.

Toby stirred slightly, his eyes opening just enough to show that he was aware of where he was.

“It’s okay,” Natalie whispered immediately, her voice calm and steady. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

His gaze drifted slowly, unfocused at first, then settling on her. After a second, he gave a small, tired nod, like that was enough for now, and his eyes slipped closed again.

Greg glanced over at me and nudged the backpack slightly with his foot.

“See if he’s got anything he can sleep in,” he said.

Natalie looked up at me with a small, reassuring smile. “Pajamas, if he has any, Zachary.”

That was enough to get me moving.

I stepped further into the room and crouched down near the bed, pulling the backpack closer before unzipping it. The zipper caught for a second, and I had to tug a little harder than I expected before it finally gave way.

There wasn’t much inside.

A couple of shirts.

A pair of pants.

Everything folded, but not carefully. Just… placed there like someone had packed quickly without thinking about how long it would need to last.

I moved things aside slowly, trying not to make too much noise, until I found what I was looking for near the bottom.

A pair of pajamas.

I pulled them out carefully, my hands slowing as I took them in. The fabric was worn thin in places, the color faded from too many washes. One sleeve had a small tear near the cuff, the thread fraying slightly like it had been left that way for a while.

I didn’t move right away.

I just stood there, holding them.

For a moment, the room faded just slightly around the edges—not enough to pull me away, just enough to bring something else forward. I remembered what that felt like. Having only a few things. Wearing them over and over again until they barely held together. Not knowing when you would get something new, or if you ever would.

That used to be me.

My fingers tightened slightly around the fabric before I forced myself to move again.

I walked over and handed them to Natalie.

She only needed a second to see it. Something in her expression shifted—small, controlled, but there. The tightness in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together before she smoothed it away.

“Thank you, Zachary,” she said softly.

She didn’t comment on them.

She didn’t need to.

Together, she and Greg worked carefully, changing Toby into the pajamas without fully waking him. He stirred once or twice, his eyes opening just enough to show confusion, but each time Natalie reassured him in that same steady tone until he settled again.

At one point, his gaze drifted toward me.

It didn’t fully focus, but it paused there.

Like he recognized something.

Then his eyes closed again.

Natalie pulled the blankets up around him, tucking them in lightly before brushing her fingers through his hair. The motion was slow and repetitive, calming in a way that made the entire room feel still.

“Come on, Zachary,” Greg said gently from behind me. “Let’s give him a little time to settle.”

I hesitated for just a second before nodding.

“Goodnight, Toby,” I said softly, stepping back toward the door. “If you wake up, my room’s right across the hall. I’ll leave the door open.”

His eyes opened just barely at that, heavy and unfocused.

“Okay,” he whispered.

It was quiet. Small. But it was there.

I stepped out into the hallway with Greg, glancing back once as the door stayed open just enough to let the soft light spill out into the hall.

We made our way downstairs, the house feeling different again. Not tense. Not heavy.

Just… fuller.

Geoff and Gavin were in the living room, controllers in hand, the television lighting up the space with shifting colors. Some kind of game was playing, fast-paced and chaotic, their voices overlapping as they reacted to what was happening on screen.

Greg moved toward his chair, and this time I didn’t hesitate.

I climbed into his lap.

He adjusted automatically, one arm settling around me as we both turned toward the screen. The steady rhythm of the game, the noise, the movement—it all blended together in a way that didn’t ask anything from me.

Geoff glanced over after a moment, his attention shifting away from the game.

“You sure it’s still okay for us to stay?” he asked, his tone casual but genuine. “We can grab a hotel if things are getting a little crowded.”

Greg didn’t hesitate.

“You’re always welcome here,” he said simply. “Gavin’s already bunking with Zach, Toby’s got the room across from him, and you’ve got the one right next to Toby’s.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Only downside,” Greg added with a faint grin, “is you’ll be sharing a bathroom with a six-year-old.”

Geoff let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“Can’t be any worse than sharing with Gavin,” he said.

“Hey!” Gavin shot back immediately, still focused on the game.

I shifted slightly against Greg without thinking, settling more comfortably as the sounds of the game filled the room around us.

Later that night, I found myself back upstairs with Gavin, the door to my room left open just like I had promised. The hallway light spilled softly across the floor, a faint line stretching just past the edge of my bed. Gavin had already settled in, flipping through channels until he found something to watch, the volume low enough to fill the silence without drawing attention to itself. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, listening, making sure Toby didn’t make a sound. When nothing came, I climbed onto the bed beside him, letting the quiet noise of the television fade into the background.

At some point, I fell asleep.

There was no transition.

No falling. No disorientation.

I was just there.

Standing in the middle of a vast library, the shelves stretching endlessly in every direction. Everything was sharp—too sharp. Every edge clean, every line exact. The air didn’t move. The light didn’t shift. Nothing changed.

“You’re getting used to this.”

I turned.

He stood a few feet away, exactly where he hadn’t been a second ago. He looked like me—same face, same height, same eyes—but there was something off about him, something I couldn’t explain. He didn’t look confused. He didn’t look out of place.

I did.

“You helped him,” he said.

The words hit immediately.

“The boy,” he continued. “Toby.”

My chest tightened. “How do you know that?”

“I see more than you think,” he said.

He took a single step forward, closing the distance more than he should have. Nothing around us reacted. The space stayed perfectly still.

“You chose to help him,” he went on. “That matters.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said quietly.

“You did,” he replied. “You always do.”

Something about that sat heavier than it should have.

“I’m closer than I was,” he added.

The words didn’t make sense, but they stayed with me anyway.

Something shifted. Not in the room, not in the space—but in the moment itself. Like it was ending.

“Wait—” I started.

He paused just long enough.

“Kyan.”

The name settled in sharply.

“I’ll find you.”

Everything disappeared.

I woke up slowly, the room coming back into place around me. The hallway light still stretched across the floor, and Gavin’s arm rested loosely against my side, his breathing steady and even. I didn’t move. I just stared at the ceiling, my thoughts catching on one thing.

That wasn’t a nightmare.

And it didn’t feel like a dream either.

I turned my head slightly toward the open doorway, the light still spilling into the room from the hall. Everything was exactly where it should be.

But it didn’t feel the same.