The Touch - Rewrite

My legs felt heavier than they had all week. It wasn’t pain, not like before, but a slow, steady tiredness that made every step feel like it took a little more effort than it should have. The walk through the school hadn’t been long, but it had been enough. Between the stairs, the hallways, and everything else, my body still felt like it was catching up.

I didn’t say anything about it. I just followed Natalie inside and made my way into the kitchen, easing myself onto one of the stools at the counter. The house felt quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that came from knowing Greg wasn’t home yet. It made everything feel softer somehow, like the day hadn’t fully settled.

Natalie moved around the kitchen, setting her purse down and opening the fridge like she already had a plan forming in her head. Every now and then, she glanced over at me, just checking, not hovering, but not ignoring me either. I rested my arms on the counter and let out a slow breath without really thinking about it.

“It was a lot, wasn’t it?” she asked gently.

I shrugged a little. “Yeah.”

That felt like enough.

She nodded like she understood anyway. “You did really well,” she said, her voice warm but steady. “I’m proud of you.”

Something shifted in my chest at that, unfamiliar and a little heavy, but not bad. I didn’t know what to say back, so I just nodded slightly and looked down at the counter.

Before anything else could be said, the front door opened, followed by the sound of Greg stepping inside. His footsteps were easy to recognize now—quick, steady, like he carried energy with him wherever he went.

“Well, when does he start school?” Greg asked as he walked into the kitchen, setting his briefcase on the counter before crossing over to Natalie. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her quickly, easy and natural, before turning toward me.

“Hey, buddy.”

He pulled me into a hug without hesitation, and I leaned into it automatically, the tension I hadn’t realized I was holding easing just a little. When he pulled back, his hand came up to ruffle my hair, and I couldn’t stop the small smile that slipped through.

I didn’t mind it.

It made something settle.

“Wednesday,” Natalie answered as she leaned against the counter. “He has an appointment Monday morning with Dr. Jerret to get cleared, but if everything looks good, he’ll start midweek.”

Greg nodded. “That’s good. Gives him a couple days to breathe first.”

Natalie glanced at him. “Did you make any progress on your big case?”

Greg laughed under his breath and rolled his eyes as he moved to the stool next to me and sat down. “Apparently, this is my life now,” he said. “They want to move forward with the acquisition, but they don’t want to meet the asking price. The CEO’s not budging, and neither side wants to be the one to give in.”

“Rich people problems,” Natalie said, shaking her head with a small laugh.

That made me smile a little, and Greg noticed.

“Hey,” he said, nudging me lightly. “Don’t laugh too hard. Those could be our problems if I play this right.”

Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Fifteen percent commission,” Greg said, a grin spreading across his face. “And the partners mentioned a possible board seat.”

Natalie straightened slightly. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” he replied.

She shook her head with a soft laugh, but there was something else there too, something quieter that looked like pride.

Greg leaned back and reached over, pulling me into his side without even thinking about it. I leaned into him easily, the warmth steady and grounding. A quiet sigh slipped out before I could stop it, and that made him chuckle.

“Comfortable there?” he asked.

I nodded, a little embarrassed, but I didn’t move away.

For a second, everything felt easy.

Then Greg spoke again.

“So,” he said, more casually, “how did registration go?”

The question made something tighten in my chest. I felt it immediately, even if I didn’t show it much. Natalie noticed.

“It could have gone better,” she said carefully. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Greg didn’t push, but I could tell he understood what that meant.

“But,” Natalie added, glancing at me, “Zachary did make a friend.”

That changed the mood right away.

Greg looked back at me, his expression lighting up. “See?” he said, reaching over to tickle my side lightly. “I told you you’d be making friends in no time.”

I let out a small laugh, squirming a little before settling back against him, warmth creeping into my face.

“Nobody can resist that smile,” he continued. “Give it a week and you’ll be running the place.”

I shook my head slightly, smiling as I leaned into him more.

“I’m proud of you, buddy,” he said, softer now, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head.

The words stayed with me.

He stood up a moment later, stretching slightly before walking over to Natalie and kissing her again. “I’m going to go change out of this suit before I forget how to breathe,” he said.

“I like you looking all snazzy,” she replied, reaching out to tug lightly on his jacket.

“Behave,” Greg said with a grin. “There are children present.”

I laughed quietly as he disappeared down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps fading a moment later.

Natalie shook her head with a smile before turning back to me. “What would you like for dinner, buddy?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “I get to choose?”

“Of course you do,” she said like it was obvious. “You’re part of this family too.”

I looked down at the counter, my fingers tracing lightly against it as I tried to think. Nothing came.

“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I’ve never really gotten to pick before.”

There was a pause, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Natalie stepped around the counter and pulled me into a hug. I hesitated for a second before relaxing into it, my hands gripping lightly at her shirt.

“You’re going to have a lot of firsts here,” she said gently. “And you don’t have to worry about any of them.”

I nodded against her.

After a few minutes of suggestions, we settled on spaghetti, and Natalie started cooking while I stayed at the counter, watching her move around the kitchen. The tiredness in my legs was still there, but it didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

“Why don’t you go relax for a bit?” she said after getting everything started. “Dinner won’t take long.”

“Yes, Mrs. Harris.”

I slid off the stool and made my way into the living room. Greg was already there now, changed into more comfortable clothes, sitting on the couch as he flipped through channels.

“What’s up, buddy?” he asked, glancing over at me as he patted the seat next to him.

I walked over and sat down, and he immediately pulled me into his side, settling back as he landed on the news.

“Mrs. Harris is making dinner,” I said.

“Oh yeah? What’d you pick?”

“Spaghetti.”

“Good choice,” he said. “You can’t go wrong with pasta.”

I leaned into him, the steady noise of the television filling the room as the day started to catch up with me again. My body felt heavy, but not in a bad way—just tired.

Dinner was louder and lighter. They teased me when I went back for seconds, and even more when I reached for a third helping before Natalie stopped me with a laugh and reminded me there was dessert. I tried to argue, but Greg backed her up immediately, which only made it worse.

I didn’t remember the last time something like that had happened. I didn’t remember the last time I felt like I was supposed to be there.

By the time everything was cleaned up and we moved back into the living room, the tiredness had settled deeper into my body. I eased down onto the couch next to Greg again, leaning into his side without thinking about it. He shifted slightly so I could get comfortable, his arm coming around me in an easy, absent way.

Natalie settled into the chair across from us, letting out a quiet breath as she leaned back.

Greg glanced over at her. “You look like you’re ready to call it,” he said.

She smiled faintly. “It’s been one of those days. Nothing bad, just… nonstop.”

“Hospital busy?”

“Always,” she said, shaking her head a little. “But I survived.”

“That’s the goal,” Greg replied.

They kept talking after that, their voices low and steady, moving easily between topics that didn’t feel important but still mattered. I didn’t follow all of it. I didn’t need to. The sound of their voices was enough.

My eyes started to feel heavy.

I shifted slightly, curling closer into Greg’s side. His hand moved absently against my arm, slow and steady, like it didn’t require any thought.

The television played quietly in the background, the evening news blending into everything else.

I let my eyes close.

The voices around me softened, the sounds fading together as my body sank further into the couch. The warmth beside me stayed steady, real, holding me there without effort.

For once, there was nothing to brace for.

No waiting.

No tension sitting just under everything.

Just quiet.

Just warmth.

And before I even realized it—

I was asleep.

The warmth didn’t disappear when I fell asleep. It shifted, softened into something quieter, something older, like it had been there long before I noticed it. The steady weight I had leaned against faded into something harder to place, but still familiar in a way I didn’t understand.

The sound came first, not music this time, but voices. Low and distant, like they were coming from somewhere just out of reach. I couldn’t see anything yet. The space around me felt unfinished, like it hadn’t fully formed, but the voices were clear enough to pull my attention forward.

“…just a couple days.”

“I’ll be back,” a woman said, her voice sharper now. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

Another voice answered, older, slower. “You said that last time.”

There was a pause, and something in the air tightened in a way I didn’t understand but still felt. “That was different,” she replied quickly. “This is just… temporary.”

The world settled into place around me all at once. Open land stretched out past a small house, the grass uneven in places, dirt paths worn into the ground like they had been walked over and over again. The air smelled different—cleaner, but heavier somehow, filled with something I couldn’t name. I stood near the front of the house, small in a way that made everything around me feel bigger than it should have.

A man stood a few feet away, his shoulders set, his posture still in a way that didn’t feel relaxed. His eyes were on the woman in front of him, watching her carefully like he was trying to measure something that didn’t add up. The woman stood near a car, one hand resting on the door, the other brushing impatiently through her hair. She didn’t really look at me, not the way people were supposed to.

“It’s only for a couple days, Paul,” she said. “I just need you to watch him.”

The name settled without explanation.

“And then what?” he asked.

She let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there wasn’t anything warm in it. “Then I come back. Obviously.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t nod. Didn’t agree.

Behind him, the front door creaked open, and an older woman stepped out onto the porch. She didn’t say anything right away, just watched, her expression quieter but heavier somehow.

The woman by the car—Cara—finally glanced toward me. Her eyes moved over me quickly, like she was checking something, not seeing it.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, her voice softer now, but it didn’t feel different. “Just listen to them, okay?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure I was supposed to. She didn’t wait.

The car door opened, then shut. The engine started, loud against the quiet, and then she was gone, pulling away down the dirt path without looking back. The sound faded slowly, dust settling behind her until there was nothing left but the empty road.

No one spoke for a few seconds. The quiet stretched out, heavy and still.

Paul let out a slow breath, his shoulders lowering just slightly as he looked at the space where the car had been. “She’s not coming back,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

The woman on the porch—Martha—didn’t argue. “No,” she said quietly.

The word didn’t echo. It just stayed.

Paul turned then, his attention settling on me fully for the first time. His expression changed—not softer exactly, but steadier, like he had already made a decision.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice calm in a way that felt certain, “we’d better get you settled.”

I didn’t move right away, but then I did. I followed him inside. The house felt smaller than it had from the outside, but warmer. The floors creaked softly under our steps as he led me down a short hallway.

“This’ll be yours,” he said, pushing open a door.

The room was small, with a bed against one wall, a dresser, and a window that let in just enough light to make everything feel soft instead of dark. It wasn’t much, but it didn’t feel wrong. I stepped inside slowly, my fingers brushing the edge of the bed without thinking.

Paul stayed in the doorway for a second, watching. “You’ll be alright here,” he said.

It didn’t sound like a question.

The room shifted without warning, not suddenly, just slightly. The light changed first, warmer, lower, stretching longer across the floor. The space felt the same, but different, like time had moved forward without asking. The house wasn’t quiet anymore. There were sounds now—soft movement, distant clinking, something steady underneath it all.

Music.

I followed it.

The piano sat near the window, the same warm light spilling across it. Martha sat at the bench, her hands moving across the keys with steady confidence. The melody was clear and even, flowing without hesitation.

I knew it.

I didn’t know how.

But I knew it.

“Come here,” she said gently, without turning around.

I moved closer, drawn in by the sound, by the way it filled the room without feeling too loud.

“Watch my hands,” she said.

I did. Her fingers moved carefully, each note placed exactly where it belonged. There was no hesitation, no correction, just steady movement.

“Try,” she said, shifting slightly to make space.

I reached out, my fingers hovering for a second before pressing down. The note came out uneven, not quite right, but close enough that I knew I hadn’t missed completely.

“That’s it,” she said, her voice warm. “Again.”

I tried again. The second time was better. The third felt easier. The melody didn’t come all at once, but it built piece by piece, each note falling into place faster than it should have.

“You’ve got a good ear,” she said.

Something in my chest shifted at that.

Behind us, Paul stood in the doorway, leaning slightly against the frame, watching. His expression wasn’t as tense as before. He looked calmer now, more settled.

“You’re picking that up quick,” he said.

I looked back at the keys and tried again, more sure this time. The music filled the room, uneven but recognizable.

Let it be…

The light shifted again, brighter now, and the room began to slip away. The piano faded, replaced by open fields stretching out in long rows of crops. The air smelled different again, something earthy and sharp. I walked beside Paul, my steps smaller, quicker to keep up as he moved through the rows.

He worked steadily, checking plants, adjusting things I didn’t understand. Sometimes he spoke, small explanations, simple words, but I didn’t always catch them. I just stayed close, watching, following.

Time moved strangely. The house, the piano, the fields—they all blended together, pieces overlapping without clear edges. Days passed without feeling like days. Nothing rushed, nothing stopped.

It just… continued.

The warmth stayed.

The quiet stayed.

Martha’s voice.

Paul’s steady presence.

All of it remained.

Everything except—

The car never came back.

I woke up slowly.

For a few seconds, I didn’t move. The warmth was still there, wrapped around me in a way that felt familiar, and for a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The dream lingered in pieces—music, sunlight, voices that didn’t quite fit together—but they slipped away the harder I tried to hold onto them.

Something felt different.

Softer.

I shifted slightly, and the mattress dipped under me. My eyes opened, and the ceiling above me didn’t match the living room. It took a second for everything to settle into place. My room. The bed. The blankets pulled up around me instead of the couch cushion under my back. I pushed myself up slowly, my body stiff, my legs still carrying that same heavy, tired feeling from the day before.

Greg must have moved me.

I didn’t remember it happening.

The thought sat there for a second, quiet and unfamiliar in a way that didn’t feel bad. I looked down at the blanket, noticing how it had been tucked around me, not tight, just enough to keep me warm. Something in my chest shifted again, not sharp or painful, just something I wasn’t used to.

The house was quiet, but not empty. There were faint sounds downstairs, something steady and calm that made it feel like everything was already moving without me. The smell of something cooking drifted up a second later.

I pushed the blankets back and swung my legs over the side of the bed, pausing before standing. My legs resisted at first, not pain exactly, just that same slow heaviness that made me move more carefully than I wanted to. I steadied myself and made my way out into the hallway, keeping close to the railing as I headed downstairs.

Natalie stood at the stove when I reached the kitchen, her back to me as she moved something around in a pan. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard me, a small smile forming right away.

“Well, good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” I mumbled, my voice still rough from sleep.

She turned slightly, giving me that quick once-over she always did, subtle but careful. “How are you feeling?”

I shrugged a little as I moved closer to the counter. “Tired.”

“That’s fair,” she said. “Yesterday was a lot.”

I nodded and climbed onto one of the stools, resting my arms on the counter. The dream flickered again in the back of my mind. The piano. The house. The fields. It didn’t feel like a normal dream, but I couldn’t explain why.

Natalie filled a glass with water and set it in front of me. “Take your meds first,” she said gently.

I nodded and did what she asked, swallowing them quickly before setting the glass back down. She didn’t rush me after that, just went back to cooking like nothing needed to be said.

“What are you making?” I asked after a minute.

“Pancakes and eggs,” she replied. “Figured we’d keep it simple today.”

I nodded again, watching her for a moment before looking down at the counter. The dream pushed forward again, clearer this time. Not all of it, just enough to make something in my chest feel tight.

“I had a dream,” I said quietly.

Natalie didn’t turn right away, but I saw the way her shoulders shifted slightly, her attention locking in without making it obvious.

“Oh yeah?” she asked. “Want to tell me about it?”

I hesitated, my fingers tapping lightly against the counter.

“It was weird,” I said. “Not bad. Just… weird.”

She nodded, flipping a pancake before glancing over at me. “Those are usually the ones that stick,” she said.

I let out a small breath. “There was a house,” I said slowly. “Like… a farm, I think. And a piano.”

The words felt strange coming out, like they didn’t belong to me.

“There was a woman playing,” I added. “She was teaching me.”

Natalie turned the stove down slightly, then leaned back against the counter across from me, giving me her full attention without making it feel like a big moment.

“That sounds like a nice dream,” she said.

I shrugged, frowning slightly. “I guess.”

She tilted her head a little. “What made it feel weird?”

I hesitated again, trying to explain something I didn’t really understand. “There was another woman,” I said finally. “She… left.”

Natalie stayed quiet, letting me keep going.

“She said she was coming back,” I continued, my voice quieter now. “But… she didn’t.”

The words sat there for a second, heavier now that they were out.

“I don’t know why I dreamed that,” I added.

Natalie stepped over and set a plate down in front of me before resting a hand lightly on my shoulder. It wasn’t heavy, just there.

“Dreams don’t always make sense,” she said gently. “Sometimes your brain just puts things together.”

I nodded, even though it didn’t really explain it.

“It didn’t feel like a dream,” I admitted. “It felt… real.”

She paused for just a second, but when she spoke again, her voice stayed steady.

“Sometimes they do,” she said. “Especially when you’ve had a lot going on.”

That made enough sense that I didn’t question it.

She gave my shoulder a small squeeze before stepping back. “Why don’t you eat,” she added. “You’ll feel better once you have something in you.”

I looked down at the plate. The smell alone made me realize I was hungry, even if I hadn’t noticed it before.

“Okay,” I said.

I picked up the fork and started eating slowly, the warmth settling into me in a way that helped more than I expected. The dream didn’t disappear, but it faded enough that it wasn’t sitting right at the front of everything anymore.

Natalie moved around the kitchen again, finishing up the rest of breakfast while I ate. The quiet felt normal, not heavy, just steady. After a few minutes, she glanced over at me.

“How is it?” she asked.

“Good,” I said quickly, then added a little quieter, “Really good.”

She smiled at that.

When I finished, I leaned back slightly, still feeling the tiredness in my legs but not as much as before. Natalie gathered my plate and set it in the sink before turning back to me.

“Alright,” she said, brushing her hands lightly together, “after you digest for a bit, I want you to go take a bath.”

I blinked. “A bath?”

She nodded. “We’re going to head to the mall after, get some things for school. Clothes, shoes, whatever you need.”

That made me sit up a little straighter.

“For… me?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Natalie’s expression softened, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it. “Yes,” she said simply. “For you.”

I looked down at the counter, my fingers tracing lightly against it again. The idea felt strange, unfamiliar in a way that made something in my chest tighten, but not in a bad way.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

She nodded once. “Good. You’ve got a little time, so no rush. Just don’t disappear on me.”

“I won’t,” I said.

Natalie smiled and turned back to the kitchen, finishing what she had started as the morning settled into a quiet rhythm around us. I stayed where I was for a moment, listening to the small sounds of the house, the steady movement, the way everything felt… set.

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t overwhelming.

It just… held.

The mall was louder than I expected, but not in the same way the school had been. The noise didn’t feel focused. It moved, shifting constantly as people passed by, voices overlapping and fading into each other. It made everything feel busy, like there wasn’t really a place to stop unless you made one.

I stayed close to Natalie as we walked inside. She didn’t rush, her pace steady and easy to follow, like she already knew I needed a little more time to keep up. Every now and then, she glanced back at me, not saying anything, just making sure I was still there.

“I figured we’d start with your haircut,” she said as we passed a row of stores. “Then we’ll do clothes after.”

My hand came up to my hair without thinking. “It’s fine,” I said, a little unsure.

She gave me a small, knowing look. “We’re just cleaning it up,” she said. “Nothing drastic.”

I hesitated, my fingers still in my hair. It felt strange letting someone change something that had always just been there, something I didn’t really think about. But Natalie didn’t seem worried, and she wasn’t pushing.

“…okay,” I said finally.

The salon smelled different from everything else, something clean and sharp that made the air feel lighter. I sat in the chair while Natalie spoke with the stylist, explaining what she wanted in a calm, easy way that made it sound simple.

I kept my hands in my lap as the cape was draped over me.

“Don’t worry,” the stylist said with a small smile. “We’re not doing anything crazy.”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t completely convinced.

When the scissors started, I tensed slightly, my fingers tightening together in my lap. The sound was soft but close, steady and careful as pieces of hair fell away. I watched in the mirror, uncertain at first, my eyes following every movement like I expected something to go wrong.

But it didn’t.

The changes were gradual. The stylist worked carefully, adjusting small things instead of taking too much at once. After a few minutes, I noticed my shoulders relaxing, my attention shifting from worry to curiosity. It didn’t feel like I was losing something.

It felt like something was being fixed.

By the time she finished, I was leaning forward slightly, trying to see better.

“There we go,” she said, turning the chair so I could look properly. “What do you think?”

I stared at my reflection. My hair wasn’t falling into my face anymore. I could actually see clearly without pushing it out of the way. It looked… right.

A small smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.

“I like it,” I said quietly.

Natalie smiled. “It looks great,” she said. “I told you.”

I nodded, still looking at myself for another second before standing up.

We stepped back out into the mall, and the noise settled around us again as we made our way toward the clothing stores. I stayed close to Natalie, still getting used to how different everything felt, even something as small as my hair.

The store we went into was quieter, more contained. Clothes were lined up neatly, everything organized in a way that made it easier to focus.

A girl approached us after a moment, her smile quick and easy. “Hi!” she said. “Looking for anything specific?”

Natalie smiled back. “We’re doing some school shopping,” she said, gesturing lightly toward me. “He needs a bit of everything.”

The girl’s eyes shifted to me, and she paused just briefly before brightening again.

“Oh, that’s fun,” she said. “I love doing first-day outfits. Okay, yeah, I’ve got you.”

She stepped closer, already scanning me like she was putting something together in her head.

“I’m Tracey, by the way,” she added. “And don’t worry, I won’t let you leave here looking weird.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond, but Natalie laughed softly.

“I appreciate that,” she said.

Tracey grinned and immediately started moving through the racks, pulling out clothes with quick, confident movements. “So, like, does he have a style yet or are we building one from scratch?” she asked, glancing back at Natalie.

“We’re figuring it out,” Natalie said.

“Perfect,” Tracey replied. “That’s way more fun.”

She held up one hoodie, then another, comparing them out loud before deciding. “Okay, this one. Definitely this one.”

Natalie glanced at me. “What do you think?”

I looked at it. “It’s nice.”

Tracey gave me a playful look. “You’re gonna have to give me a little more than ‘nice,’” she said. “Would you wear it?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cool, then it’s happening,” she said, adding it to the pile.

They kept talking as we moved through the store, their conversation easy and quick, jumping between clothes and random comments. Tracey talked a lot, filling the space without making it feel crowded, while Natalie responded easily, like it wasn’t unusual.

I followed along quietly, my attention drifting in and out. I caught pieces of what they were saying without really holding onto all of it.

“…and I swear, if my manager schedules me one more closing shift on a Friday—”

Natalie laughed. “That bad?”

“It’s awful,” Tracey said. “Everyone comes in at the last minute like they’ve never seen a store before.”

They both laughed again.

Tracey moved a few steps ahead, grabbing a couple more shirts before glancing back at us. Her eyes landed on me again. This time, she didn’t look away right away. Her gaze lingered just a little longer, like she was checking something.

Then she looked back at the rack.

A moment later, she glanced at me again.

Quicker this time.

Like she was trying not to make it obvious.

I shifted slightly, not sure what she was seeing.

She grabbed another shirt, turned, and looked at me again as she walked back over, her eyes narrowing just a little in thought before her expression smoothed out.

“…okay,” she said under her breath, almost like she was confirming something to herself.

Natalie tilted her head slightly. “What?”

Tracey hesitated, then looked at me one more time, this time more openly.

“Sorry, this is random,” she said, a little sheepish now. “You just… you look exactly like my friend’s little brother. It’s kind of weird.”

My chest tightened.

I didn’t say anything.

“Like, not exactly,” she added quickly. “But the resemblance is kind of uncanny.”

Natalie’s expression stayed calm, but she shifted just slightly closer to me. “That happens sometimes,” she said easily.

“Yeah,” Tracey said, nodding. “I mean, I know it’s not him, obviously. It just threw me off for a second.”

She smiled again, lighter now, and moved on without pushing it further.

“Anyway,” she said, clapping her hands lightly. “Try these on.”

I took the clothes and went into the dressing room.

Standing in front of the mirror felt strange. Everything fit. That was the part that didn’t make sense. Nothing felt worn or borrowed. It all looked like it was supposed to be mine.

I changed into one of the outfits and stepped out.

Natalie smiled right away. “That one works.”

Tracey nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good one,” she said. “You clean up nice.”

I shifted slightly, not sure how to respond to that.

We finished up not long after. Clothes were folded, bagged, handed over. Natalie paid without hesitation, like none of it needed to be questioned.

I held one of the bags as we stepped back out into the mall, my grip tighter than it needed to be.

“You okay?” Natalie asked quietly.

I nodded, slower this time. “Yeah.”

But the feeling stayed.

Not as sharp.

Just… there.

I glanced back once as we walked away. Tracey was already helping someone else, talking just as easily as before, like nothing had happened.

I turned forward again and followed Natalie through the crowd.

By the time we got home, the mall felt far away.

Not gone, just… quieter in my head. The noise, the people, the way everything had felt like it was moving all at once—it all faded as soon as we stepped back inside. The house felt the same as always, steady and familiar, like nothing had changed while we were gone.

I followed Natalie in, shifting the single bag in my hand as she pushed the door open with her shoulder. She had most of them—several bags looped over her arms, the plastic rustling softly every time she moved. I watched her for a second, unsure if I should offer to take more, but she didn’t seem like she was struggling.

“We’re back,” Natalie called out as she set her keys down, adjusting the bags slightly on her arm.

“In here!” Greg’s voice came from the living room.

I slipped out of my shoes near the door and followed her, still holding onto the one bag she had handed me earlier. It felt heavier than it should have, not because of what was inside, but because it was mine.

Greg was already on the couch, a laptop open on his lap, though he wasn’t really looking at it anymore. His attention shifted the second he saw us, and he closed it without hesitation, setting it off to the side as he stood up.

“Well, there he is,” he said, his tone light as he stepped closer. His eyes landed on me, and he paused for a second, looking me over more carefully.

“Hold on,” he added, tilting his head slightly. “What happened here?”

My hand came up to my hair automatically, a small, uncertain movement.

Natalie smiled as she set the bags down near the couch, the soft thud of them landing one after another making it clear just how much she had been carrying. “We cleaned him up a little.”

Greg stepped closer, still studying me, then his expression shifted into a grin.

“Buddy,” he said, clearly impressed, “you look sharp.”

Something in my chest loosened at that.

“Yeah?” I asked, quieter than I meant to.

“Yeah,” he said easily. “Like a whole new person.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but I felt myself smile a little anyway.

Natalie straightened up, brushing her hands lightly together after setting the last of the bags down. “We got everything he’ll need for school,” she said.

Greg glanced at the small pile, then back at me. “Looks like it,” he said. “You guys buy out the store or what?”

“It was… a lot,” I admitted.

He nodded like he understood exactly what I meant. “That tracks,” he said. “Shopping’s exhausting. I avoid it whenever possible.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to shop,” Natalie said lightly as she started gathering a couple of the bags to take toward the kitchen.

Greg placed a hand over his chest. “I know how to shop,” he argued. “I go in, I get exactly what I need, and I leave. Efficient.”

“You buy the same three shirts every time,” she shot back.

“They’re good shirts.”

I watched them go back and forth, the easy rhythm of it settling something in me without me realizing it. The tight feeling from earlier didn’t disappear completely, but it didn’t sit as heavy anymore either.

“Hey,” Greg said after a second, his attention shifting back to me. “C’mere.”

I hesitated for just a moment before stepping closer.

He didn’t wait. He pulled me into a hug, one arm wrapping around my shoulders, firm and steady without being too tight. I leaned into it automatically, the contact grounding in a way I didn’t think about anymore.

“You did good today,” he said.

I nodded slightly against him.

After a second, he let go, his hand coming up to ruffle my hair again before dropping back to his side.

“Alright,” he added, glancing toward the bags. “You wanna show me what you got?”

I looked down at the bag in my hands, then back at the small pile Natalie had set down.

“…okay,” I said.

We moved back to the couch, and I set the bag down carefully before pulling a few things out. A hoodie. A pair of jeans. The box with the shoes still inside.

Greg looked everything over like it actually mattered, like he wasn’t just pretending.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “This is solid. You’ve got style.”

I huffed out a small breath that almost felt like a laugh.

“Natalie picked most of it,” I admitted.

“Then you’ve got a good stylist,” he said.

“I heard that,” Natalie called from the kitchen.

“Good,” Greg replied.

I set the clothes back into the bag, my hands moving a little slower now.

The thought came back.

Quieter than before.

But still there.

“You okay?” Greg asked, his voice softer now.

I nodded, but it wasn’t as quick this time.

“There was… a girl at the store,” I said slowly.

Natalie paused in the kitchen, not turning around, but listening.

Greg didn’t interrupt.

“She said I looked like someone,” I added. “Her friend’s little brother.”

The words felt strange coming out.

Greg’s expression didn’t change much, but his attention sharpened slightly.

“Happens,” he said after a second, his tone easy. “There are a lot of people in the world.”

I nodded, looking down at my hands.

“It just felt weird,” I admitted.

“Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”

There was a short pause, not uncomfortable, just there.

Then he nudged me lightly with his shoulder.

“Hey,” he added. “If there’s some other kid out there walking around looking like you, he’s probably got great hair now too.”

I blinked.

Then let out a small laugh before I could stop it.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” I said.

“It makes perfect sense,” he argued. “You’re setting trends.”

I shook my head, but the tension eased a little more.

“Come on,” he added, leaning back into the couch. “Sit down before you fall over. You still look tired.”

I didn’t argue with that.

I climbed onto the couch next to him, settling into the cushion as he turned the TV on again, flipping through channels until he found something to land on.

I hesitated for a second, then shifted closer, just enough that my shoulder brushed against his side. He didn’t say anything about it, just adjusted slightly so it was easier.

The television played quietly in the background, the sound filling the space without demanding attention. Natalie moved around in the kitchen, the soft clatter of dishes blending into everything else.

I let myself relax.

The tight feeling from earlier faded further, not gone, but distant enough that I didn’t have to think about it.

My hand rested loosely against the fabric of Greg’s shirt, not holding on, just there.

And this time—

it didn’t feel uncertain.