The Touch - Rewrite

It was the middle of April when I finally caught the flu.

By the time Spring Break started, I was already stuck on the couch, buried beneath a pile of blankets with a box of tissues within arm’s reach and a glass of water that Natalie kept reminding me to drink. My head felt heavy, my body ached in a way that made even small movements feel like too much, and every time I tried to sit up for longer than a few minutes, I regretted it almost immediately.

Toby had been sick the week before. I didn’t say anything out loud, but I blamed him anyway. He had spent two nights curled up in my bed while he was sick, clinging to me like he always did when he didn’t feel good. At the time, I hadn’t minded. Now, lying there with a fever of my own, I couldn’t help the quiet frustration that came with it.

Meanwhile, Toby was perfectly fine. He ran around the house like nothing had ever happened, laughing, talking, following Greg from room to room like his usual shadow. Every now and then, he’d wander into the living room to check on me, climbing up onto the couch just long enough to hug me before Natalie shooed him away again and sent him back out.

That didn’t stop anyone else. Despite Natalie making it clear that I was supposed to be resting, Deedra and Sheldon still stopped by almost every day. Deedra would sit near the edge of the couch, talking like nothing was wrong, while Sheldon hovered nearby, quieter but just as present. They never stayed too long, but they always came back.

Chad took it a step further. He showed up twice during the week with his keyboard, setting it up carefully in the living room like it belonged there. At first, I didn’t have the energy to do much, but as the days passed and the worst of the fever started to fade, he got me to sit up and play a little, keeping things simple so I wouldn’t push too hard.

“Concert’s not going to practice itself,” he told me once with a grin.

I didn’t argue.

By the end of the week, I was starting to feel better. Not completely, but enough that I could sit up longer without feeling like everything was spinning, enough that Natalie wasn’t hovering quite as much as she had been before.

That was when Gavin and Geoff showed up.

The energy in the house shifted immediately. Toby ran straight to the door the second it opened, talking before they even stepped inside. He grabbed onto Geoff’s hand, already telling him about school, about the friends he was making, about everything all at once. Geoff listened easily, smiling as he stepped inside, while Gavin dropped his bag near the door and glanced toward the living room.

“You alive over there?” he called.

“Barely,” I muttered, though I couldn’t stop the small smile that came with it.

The house filled quickly after that. Greg joined them, and the conversation shifted naturally until it landed on me.

“You should’ve heard him,” Greg said, already pulling out his phone. “I’ve got a video.”

I sank slightly deeper into the couch as Geoff watched it. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t react right away. When it ended, he stared at the screen for a second longer before looking back at me.

“That’s you?”

I nodded faintly.

He didn’t say anything else. He just stepped off to the side and made a call. The conversation was short and direct, and by the time he hung up, he was already walking back toward us.

“You’re getting your own keyboard,” he said simply.

I blinked. “What?”

He turned his phone toward me, showing me the one he had picked out. It looked nothing like Chad’s—sleeker, more advanced.

“That one. It’ll be here in a few days.”

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s already done,” Geoff said. “Only condition is you use it.”

Gavin grinned from where he was standing. “Guess you’re stuck now.”

I stared at the screen for another second before nodding slowly, still trying to process it.

“Then get better,” Geoff added. “Would be a waste otherwise.”

Later that evening, things started to wind down. Gavin led Toby upstairs to my room, and it wasn’t long before I could hear the sounds of a video game echoing faintly through the house, Toby’s voice rising above it every few seconds.

The house felt quieter after that.

Too quiet.

Natalie came over and sat beside me, pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. Her expression shifted almost immediately.

Greg noticed. “What is it?”

“Your fever’s back,” she said, her voice quieter now, more focused.

I frowned. “No, it’s not. I feel better.”

“You did earlier,” she replied, her eyes still on me. “Not right now.”

Something in her tone made my stomach drop.

“How bad?” Greg asked.

“Higher than it should be,” Natalie said. “And it came back too fast.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, trying to sit up a little straighter. “I just need to sleep.”

Natalie shook her head slightly. “I don’t think so.”

The room felt off again. Not fully spinning yet, but close enough that it made my stomach twist.

“I think we need to take him in,” she said, her voice firm now.

Everything in me tightened.

“No,” I said immediately, the word coming out weaker than I wanted. “I don’t want to go.”

“They’re not going to keep you,” she said gently. “They’ll check you out and send us home.”

“They always keep me,” I muttered.

Greg rested his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be with you the whole time.”

I didn’t feel better.

Natalie looked at Greg. “Can you grab him something to wear?”

Greg nodded, then glanced toward Geoff. “You mind keeping an eye on Toby for a few hours?”

Geoff shook his head easily. “Not at all. Gavin’s already upstairs with him.”

I could still hear them faintly—Toby laughing, the rapid clicking of buttons, the low hum of the game.

“Appreciate it,” Greg said before heading upstairs.

I watched him go for a second before my attention drifted back to Natalie as she moved closer to me again. She helped me sit up more carefully this time, one hand steady at my back as the other reached for the hem of my sweatshirt.

I reacted without thinking. My hands tightened around the blanket, pulling it up across my chest, trying to cover myself before she could lift the fabric. The movement was quick and automatic.

The scars.

Three jagged lines stretched across my chest, uneven and impossible to ignore. Even now, even here, the thought of anyone seeing them made something in my chest tighten.

Natalie caught my hands gently before I could pull the blanket any tighter.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, leaning in to press a light kiss to my cheek. “You’re okay.”

I hesitated, just for a moment, but that was all it took. She eased the blanket down enough to slip the sweatshirt off, her movements careful and quick, not giving me time to focus on it too much.

Greg came back down a moment later with a clean one in his hands and crossed the room quickly, passing it to her. She guided it over my head just as smoothly, adjusting it into place.

“See?” she whispered, her hand resting briefly against my shoulder. “Nothing happened.”

I nodded faintly, but my focus was already slipping.

The room felt wrong. Not fully spinning yet, but close enough that it made my stomach twist harder. I turned my head slightly, trying to focus on Geoff.

That was a mistake.

There were two of him, standing just slightly apart, both watching me.

“Nat,” Geoff said quickly, his tone shifting. “He’s about to be sick.”

I tried to stand, but my body didn’t cooperate. The moment I pushed myself up, my stomach lurched violently, and I barely managed to turn my head before everything came up. The force of it left me shaking, my balance completely gone as the room spun hard around me.

Arms caught me before I could fall. Voices blurred together—Natalie, Greg, maybe Geoff—but none of it felt real anymore. Everything felt distant, like it was happening somewhere far away from me.

The last thing I felt was Natalie holding onto me.

Then everything went dark.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the light.

It was too bright, too sharp, pressing against my eyes even through my eyelids. The second thing was the steady beeping somewhere nearby, soft but constant, cutting through everything else.

I shifted slightly and immediately regretted it. The movement sent a wave of dizziness through me, my stomach turning as the room seemed to tilt even though I hadn’t fully opened my eyes yet.

“Hey,” Natalie’s voice came softly from somewhere close. “Easy, Zachary.”

I forced my eyes open.

The ceiling above me wasn’t mine.

White. Flat. Too clean.

Hospital.

The word hit before anything else did.

“I feel dizzy,” I muttered, my voice rough and dry.

Natalie was sitting beside the bed, her hand already resting lightly on my arm. She gave me a small, reassuring smile, though there was something more focused behind it.

“That’s normal,” she said gently. “You’re dehydrated, and your fever spiked pretty high.”

I swallowed, my throat protesting immediately. “I don’t like this place.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

I shifted again, slower this time, and noticed the IV in my arm. The clear line ran down toward a bag hanging beside the bed, fluid dripping steadily through it. My stomach twisted again, though I wasn’t sure if it was from the sight or the lingering nausea.

“How long have we been here?” I asked.

“A couple hours,” Natalie replied. “You’ve been in and out.”

“That’s too long,” I mumbled, letting my head sink back into the pillow. “They’re going to keep me.”

She shook her head slightly. “No one’s said anything about that. They’re running a few tests, making sure your fever’s under control.”

I hesitated before asking the next question, my voice quieter. “Where’s Greg?”

“He stepped out to grab something for us to eat,” Natalie said, brushing her hand lightly over my arm. “He’ll be back soon.”

I nodded faintly, though it didn’t do much to settle the uneasy feeling in my chest.

A knock came at the door before it opened.

A nurse stepped in first, followed by a doctor a moment later. The doctor looked older, calm, her expression focused as she glanced between me and the chart in her hands.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said, stepping closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy,” I said.

“And nauseous?” she asked.

I nodded slightly.

She checked the monitor briefly before reaching out to press her hand lightly against my forehead, then my neck. Her movements were practiced, quick but not rushed.

“Your fever’s still elevated, but it’s come down a bit since you got here,” she said. “We’ve started fluids to help with the dehydration, and we’re going to start you on antibiotics. Looks like your body’s fighting off more than just the flu.”

“Infection?” Natalie asked quietly.

The doctor nodded. “That’s what we’re leaning toward. Nothing severe right now, but it’s good you brought him in when you did.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“Am I staying?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

The doctor glanced at me, then at Natalie before answering. “That depends on how you respond over the next little while. If your fever keeps coming down and you can keep fluids down, you’ll likely go home tonight.”

Likely.

I didn’t like that word either.

She gave a small, reassuring smile before stepping back. “Try to rest. We’ll check on you again soon.”

The nurse adjusted something on the IV before following her out, the door closing softly behind them.

The room felt quieter after they left.

Too quiet.

“They’re not keeping you,” Natalie said gently, like she already knew where my thoughts had gone.

“You don’t know that,” I muttered.

She didn’t argue with me this time. Instead, she reached over and brushed her hand lightly through my hair, the motion slow and calming.

“Just focus on resting,” she said. “That’s all you need to do right now.”

I tried.

I really did.

But everything felt off. The light, the sounds, the way my body didn’t quite feel like mine. Even the bed felt wrong, too stiff, too unfamiliar.

“I hate this place,” I said again, quieter this time.

Natalie let out a soft breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “You’re not the only one, buddy.”

I shifted slightly, the dizziness flaring again, and closed my eyes to try to steady it.

“Get some rest,” she said after a moment. “I’ll be right here.”

I nodded faintly, not opening my eyes.

The beeping continued, slow and steady. The IV dripped quietly beside me, each drop marking time in a way that made everything feel slower than it should have. My body felt heavier with each second, like I was sinking into the bed without actually moving.

The dizziness didn’t go away—it just dulled, blending into everything else until I couldn’t tell where one feeling ended and another began.

The sounds around me started to fade.

The light dimmed behind my eyelids.

And just like that—

I was gone again.

It didn’t feel like falling asleep. It felt like slipping sideways into something else. The hospital faded without warning, the steady beeping dissolving into nothing as the light disappeared with it. When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t in the bed anymore.

I was standing.

The room around me was dark, but not the same kind of darkness I was used to. It wasn’t suffocating or endless. The edges of things were clearer here, sharper somehow, like everything had more shape even without light. And he was there, standing across from me.

The other me.

He looked the same as always—same face, same build—but clearer this time, more defined. He wasn’t just something I was imagining anymore. His posture was relaxed, like he had been there for a while, waiting.

“Here again, little brother?” he asked.

His voice didn’t echo or distort. It sounded real.

The question threw me off immediately. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

He let out a short, unimpressed scoff. “Am I? Are you sure about that, Zyan?”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped, irritation cutting through the confusion. “It’s not my name.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed, then dropped down to sit on the floor like he had all the time in the world. “Are you positive about that, little brother?”

“Just leave me alone if you’re not going to give me any answers!” I shouted, the frustration building faster than I expected. “Get out of my head!”

He didn’t react the way I thought he would. He didn’t get angry or disappear. Instead, he leaned back slightly, looking at me like I was the one missing something obvious. “I’m not in your head, Zyan,” he said casually. “You’re in mine.”

“That’s bullshit!” I shot back immediately. “You only show up when I’m asleep!”

“That’s funny,” he replied, his tone sharpening with a mocking edge. “Because I was watching TV with our older sister when you decided to drop in this time.”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You ask for answers, and when I give them to you, you call me a liar,” he snapped, irritation finally breaking through. His hands tightened slightly where they rested against the floor, his jaw clenching. “I’m done answering your questions if you’re not going to listen, Zyan.”

The shift in his tone hit harder than anything else had. “What?” I asked, my voice faltering as he started to fade. It happened too quickly. The edges of him blurred first, like something pulling him backward into the dark.

“Wait—” I stepped forward without thinking. “Don’t go. I’m sorry.”

He paused just long enough for his voice to reach me. “We’ll be together soon enough, little brother.”

Then he was gone. The room collapsed with him, the darkness folding in until everything disappeared.

When I opened my eyes again, everything felt… quieter.

Not silent, just softer. The sharp edges from before were gone, replaced by something warmer, something familiar. It took a moment for my vision to focus, the light in the room gentler than the harsh brightness I remembered.

My room.

The realization came slowly, like my mind was catching up to my body. Sunlight filtered in through the window, stretching across the floor and up the side of my bed. For a second, I just stared at it, trying to piece together how I had gotten there.

The hospital.

The couch.

Getting sick.

It all felt distant, like something I had dreamed instead of lived.

I shifted slightly, and the moment I did, the world tilted.

A sharp wave of dizziness hit me, stronger than before, and I squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach twisted in response. My body felt weak, heavier than it should have, like even sitting up was more effort than I had to give.

I forced myself to stay still until it passed.

When I opened my eyes again, I became aware of something else.

I wasn’t fully dressed.

I glanced down and felt a flicker of panic before I could stop it. I was only in my boxers, the blanket loosely draped over my lower half. My chest was bare, and it took a second for my breathing to steady as my eyes traced over the three jagged scars stretched across my skin.

Even here.

Even alone.

The instinct to hide them didn’t go away.

I reached for the blanket and pulled it up quickly, covering myself before I even thought about it. The movement made the dizziness flare again, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the familiar knot tightening in my chest.

I wasn’t in the hospital anymore.

That helped.

A little.

I looked around the room, trying to spot my shirt, but it wasn’t anywhere close enough to grab without getting up, and I already knew that wasn’t going to work.

I needed help.

The thought made me hesitate for a second before I reached over toward my nightstand. My phone was sitting there, close enough for me to grab without moving too much. I picked it up, my hand unsteady as the screen lit up.

Greg’s number was already saved near the top.

I tapped it.

The phone barely rang once before he answered.

“Hey, Zach,” Greg said, his voice warm and immediate. “You awake, buddy?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied quietly, my throat still dry. “I need help.”

There was no hesitation. “I’m on my way.”

The line went dead.

I set the phone back down and leaned into my pillows again, my body already starting to feel drained from the effort of just making the call. It didn’t take long before I heard footsteps in the hallway, followed by the soft creak of my door opening.

“Good morning, Zachary.”

Greg’s voice was calm as he stepped into the room, crossing the distance to my bed without rushing. His eyes moved over me quickly, taking in the details—the blanket pulled tight, the way I hadn’t moved much, the tension I couldn’t quite hide.

“Still dizzy?” he asked as he reached the edge of the bed.

“Yes, sir,” I admitted, my voice quieter now.

“No worries, dude,” he said easily, like it wasn’t a problem at all.

He reached for the blanket, and I hesitated.

Just for a second.

That was enough.

Greg didn’t stop, but he didn’t rush either. He eased it back carefully, not pulling it away completely, just enough to work with. His expression didn’t change when the scars came into view. If anything, it softened slightly.

“I’ve seen them before, Zachary,” he said gently as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his arms. “Doesn’t change anything.”

I nodded faintly, letting myself relax into him despite the tension still sitting in my chest.

“You ready to get up?” he asked after a moment.

“Bathroom,” I muttered.

That was all it took.

Greg shifted quickly, sliding one arm under my legs and the other around my back before lifting me like it was nothing. The sudden movement made my head spin again, and I instinctively leaned into him, gripping lightly at his shirt.

“Got you,” he said, steady and certain as he carried me into the bathroom.

The moment he set me down, my legs almost gave out.

I barely managed to get my underwear down in time before I dropped onto the toilet, letting out a shaky breath as relief hit almost immediately.

“Jesus, kid,” Greg said with a quiet laugh from where he stood nearby. “How many IVs did they pump into you?”

“Too many,” I muttered, though a small, tired smile slipped through anyway.

“Sounds about right.”

He stayed there without hovering, giving me space but not leaving, and when I finished, he helped me back to my feet before guiding me carefully out of the bathroom.

The dizziness was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp now.

Just dull.

Lingering.

Back in my room, he helped me sit on the bed before grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from nearby. He waited just long enough for me to steady myself before helping me get dressed, keeping his movements easy and matter-of-fact.

Once I was dressed, he didn’t give me much time to think about anything else before lifting me again.

“Let’s get you downstairs,” he said.

I didn’t argue.

The house felt different when we got down there. Quieter than usual, calmer. Natalie was already sitting in her recliner, a blanket draped over her lap. She looked up the moment we entered, her expression softening immediately.

“Good morning, beautiful,” she said as Greg carried me over and settled me carefully into her lap.

“Good morning, Natalie,” I murmured, letting myself lean into her as she wrapped the blanket around me.

“I’m going to make him some toast,” Greg said, already turning toward the kitchen. “He’s got to be starving.”

“Starving,” I agreed, my voice still quiet but more steady than before.

“That’s a good sign,” Natalie said as her hand moved gently over my back. “It means you’re getting better.”

“I hope so,” I mumbled. “I hate hospitals.”

She let out a soft laugh, pressing a light kiss to the top of my head. “You’re not going back, Zachary. We just have to make sure you take your medicine and give your body time to catch up.”

I nodded faintly, settling further into her.

Greg came back a few minutes later with a plate, setting it down within reach before handing me a piece of toast. “Slow,” he said. “We’re not testing your stomach today.”

“I’ll try,” I replied, taking a small bite.

The warmth of it helped more than I expected.

“Where’s Toby?” I asked after a moment.

“Geoff and Gavin took him out for the day,” Natalie said. “They wanted to get him a few things. Make him feel more at home.”

I nodded, my grip on the toast loosening slightly as the information settled.

That made sense.

Everything felt… steady.

Safe.

I leaned into Natalie again, the blanket pulled up around me as the warmth and quiet started to pull at me. My eyes grew heavier, the exhaustion catching up faster than I expected.

For a moment, something flickered at the edge of my thoughts.

The other place.

The other voice.

“We’ll be together soon enough…”

I frowned slightly, but the thought slipped away before I could grab onto it.

It didn’t make sense anyway.

None of it did.

I shifted slightly, letting myself sink into the warmth around me instead.

“I love you guys,” I murmured softly.

Natalie’s hand paused for just a second before tightening gently around me.

“We love you too, Zachary,” she said.

That was the last thing I heard before sleep pulled me under again.