The Touch - Rewrite

There were a few lingering laughs behind us as my mom and dad stepped down from the stage, but they didn’t last long. The music started up again, softer this time, like even the band wasn’t ready to fully pull the moment apart yet. My dad kept me in his arms as he turned us toward the house, my mom staying close at his side while the crowd slowly began to close in again.

It didn’t take long.

People approached in waves—one after another, offering congratulations, shaking my dad’s hand, hugging my mom, saying things I couldn’t fully process. I kept my face turned slightly into my dad’s shoulder, nodding when I needed to, answering quietly when I had to, but mostly just holding on while everything blurred together around me. Every voice felt too close, every pair of eyes lingering just a little too long.

We didn’t get far before someone stepped directly into our path.

“David,” a calm voice said.

My dad shifted slightly but didn’t stop, turning just enough to acknowledge him. “Senator Ross,” he replied easily.

The man smiled, glancing briefly at me before looking back at my dad. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to speak with you. Congratulations… this is quite something.”

“Yeah,” my dad said, quieter now. “It is.”

They exchanged a few more words, but I wasn’t really listening. The noise around us had started to press in again, heavier this time—not unknown, just… too much. My chest tightened, and I shifted slightly against him, my voice dropping low.

“Dad.”

He turned his head just enough to hear me. “What’s up, buddy?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my face heating as I struggled to get the words out. “I… I need to…”

He didn’t make me finish.

“Gotcha,” he said softly.

Then he turned back to the man without missing a beat. “Sorry, Senator. Would you mind excusing us? I need to get Zyan inside for a moment.”

“Of course,” the Senator replied with a small chuckle, stepping aside. “Go take care of your son. We’ll catch up next week.”

“Appreciate it,” my dad said, already shifting his hold on me as he turned away.

The noise followed us for a few steps, but it faded quickly as we moved toward the house. My dad hugged me a little tighter as he walked, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek without slowing down.

“You’re handling this better than I thought you would,” he said quietly.

“I’m barely hanging on,” I admitted under my breath. “There’s a lot of people.”

He huffed out a soft breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Your mother added a few extra names to the guest list at the last minute,” he said lightly. “Alright… more than a few.”

That pulled the smallest hint of a smile out of me, even if it didn’t last long.

We stepped back inside, the shift immediate as the noise dropped behind us. It wasn’t silent, but it was manageable again—voices contained, movement slower, everything less overwhelming than the chaos outside.

Instead of stopping, my dad kept going, heading straight for the staircase just off the kitchen. I didn’t question it. I just let him carry me, my head settling back against his shoulder as we moved up the steps and away from everything.

“You can use the bathroom upstairs,” he said as we reached the top. “No one will bother you up here.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

He slowed slightly as we stepped into the hallway, and I lifted my head just enough to take it in.

The hallway stretched out in both directions, longer than I expected, with dark blue walls that made everything feel quieter the moment we stepped into it. Doors lined each side, evenly spaced, with framed pictures hanging between them—family photos, places I didn’t recognize, moments I hadn’t been there for. A small table sat against one wall with a plant resting on top, and at the far end of the hall, a large window let in just enough light to keep the space from feeling closed in.

My dad didn’t stop until he reached the second door on the left. He pushed it open and stepped inside, still holding me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The room was bigger than I expected.

A queen-sized bed sat in the center, neatly made, with a dark wooden dresser against the far wall. There were two doors on the right side of the room and another one across from the bed. Everything looked finished, clean, like it had been set up ahead of time—but it didn’t feel lived in yet.

It felt like it was waiting.

My dad nodded toward one of the doors on the right. “That’s your bathroom,” he said. “You’ll be sharing it with Kyan.”

“I don’t mind,” I replied quickly, already slipping out of his arms and heading straight for it.

I didn’t think about anything else.

By the time I shut the door behind me, I was already moving, barely making it in time. My hands trembled slightly, not from panic this time, just everything catching up all at once. When I finished, I stayed there for a second longer than I needed to, staring down at the sink before turning on the water and washing my hands.

When I stepped back out, Kyan was stretched across the bed like he already owned the place.

My dad leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, watching us with a small, knowing smile.

“There he is,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “I was starting to think we lost you.”

“Not this time,” I said, a small laugh slipping out.

“This time?” Kyan asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

I shrugged. “Ask Greg.”

That made him laugh as he hopped off the bed and crossed the room, pulling me into a quick hug without hesitation. I didn’t fight it. I just stood there, letting it happen, still getting used to how easy it felt.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he pulled back. “Your room won’t stay like this forever.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Your room,” he repeated, gesturing around us. “We can decorate it however you want. Posters, colors, whatever. Dad just has to approve it.” He grinned. “You should see mine—it’s just down the hall—”

I didn’t hear the rest.

I looked around the room again, slower this time.

The bed. The dresser. The space between everything.

It felt… big.

Bigger than it should have been.

“This is my room?” I asked quietly.

Kyan stopped talking.

I looked over at my dad.

He nodded once. “It is.”

“Really?”

“Really, Zyan. Whatever you want to do with it, we’ll make it yours.”

I turned back again, trying to take it in properly this time, but my mind kept going somewhere else. My room at Greg and Natalie’s house came to me without warning—how small it felt now in comparison, even though it had never felt small before. I knew every inch of that space, where everything sat, how far it was from the bed to the door.

I could fit that room in here.

More than once.

The thought stayed with me as I looked around again, trying to make sense of it.

“This is my room,” I said softly.

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it, and I didn’t wipe it away right away.

Kyan stepped forward and pulled me into another hug, tighter this time.

“Welcome home, baby brother,” he said quietly.

I held onto him for a second longer before pulling back, glancing toward the door as the noise from downstairs carried faintly up the hall again. It was still going—the party, the voices, everything waiting on the other side of that door.

I wiped at my face quickly with the back of my hand, trying to clear the last of the tears before they could fall again. My breathing steadied little by little, even if my chest still felt tight.

My dad pushed himself off the dresser, watching me for a second like he was making sure I was alright before speaking.

“We should head back down,” he said gently. “No rush… but they’re all waiting.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded.

Kyan gave my shoulder a quick squeeze before turning toward the door, and I followed a step behind them, staying close as we moved back into the hallway.

The noise grew louder again as we made our way back downstairs.

It wasn’t as sharp as before, not as overwhelming right away, but it was still there—voices layered over music, movement filling the space as people drifted between rooms and out toward the backyard. I stayed close behind my dad and Kyan as we stepped off the last stair and into the kitchen, my eyes flicking around briefly before settling back down again.

It didn’t take long before someone noticed us.

“Zyan!”

I barely had time to react before Deedra crossed the room, weaving between people without slowing down. She reached me a second later and pulled me into a tight hug, catching me off guard just enough that I froze for a split second before relaxing into it.

“Hey, Deedra,” I said, managing a small smile as she pulled back.

“Thanks for coming, guys,” I added, glancing past her.

Sheldon and Chad stepped in right after her, both of them greeting me and Kyan with quick hugs. It felt normal—familiar in a way that cut through everything else still buzzing in the background.

“Mrs. Grant told me to remind you about the concert tomorrow,” Chad said as he pulled back, his tone lighter but his eyes studying me a little more closely. “You seem a lot better now, by the way. You had me worried yesterday.”

“Sorry,” I said quietly, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Don’t be,” Chad replied immediately. “You handled it better than I would have.”

That made me smile a little more, even if I didn’t really believe it.

Kyan stepped forward then, his energy picking back up like none of this had slowed him down at all. “Do you guys want to meet my friends?” he asked, glancing between them.

Deedra’s eyes lit up instantly. “Will we get to meet your uncle too?”

Kyan grinned. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

They all started moving toward the back door, the pull of the party dragging them along without hesitation.

I didn’t move.

The thought of stepping back outside—into all of those people, all of that noise, all of those eyes—hit harder this time because I knew exactly what was waiting for me.

Chad noticed.

He slowed, stepping back toward me and draping his arm loosely across my shoulders, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry. “You okay?”

I shook my head before I could stop myself. “Not really,” I admitted. “I… I can’t go out there yet.”

Chad nodded like he understood, not pushing it. He glanced toward Kyan, who had already made it halfway to the door, and opened his mouth like he was about to say something.

My dad stepped in before he could.

“Go ahead and go outside, Chad,” he said, his voice calm but gentle as he looked between them. “I’d like to talk to Zyan for a few minutes anyway.”

Chad hesitated, his eyes flicking back to me.

“I’ll be okay,” I said quietly.

He studied me for another second, then pulled me into a quick hug. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll be out back.”

“Come on, Chad!” Deedra called from the doorway. “We’ve got a celebrity to meet!”

That got a small laugh out of him as he stepped away. “I’ll see you soon, Zyan.”

I watched as they followed Kyan out the back door, the noise swelling briefly as it opened before settling again once it shut behind them.

The kitchen felt different without them.

Quieter.

Or maybe just… less familiar.

“Hey, bud.”

I turned back to my dad as he stepped closer, his arms already opening before I could think about it. I moved into him without hesitation, letting him pull me back into the same steady hold that had gotten me through everything else so far.

“Chad seems to like you a lot,” he said lightly, one hand rubbing slow circles against my back.

“He’s a really good friend,” I replied, my voice quieter as I rested my head against his shoulder.

My dad chuckled softly. “For now, at least.”

I frowned slightly at that, not fully understanding what he meant, but I didn’t question it. I didn’t really have the energy to.

He shifted his weight slightly, glancing toward the back door as it opened again.

“Oh,” he said, a hint of amusement slipping into his voice, “looks like Casey finally decided to show up.”

“Who?” I asked, lifting my head slightly as I turned toward the sound.

I turned toward the sound of the back door opening, my attention shifting just in time to see someone step inside.

She stood out immediately.

Bright red hair, almost catching the light as she moved, and green eyes that seemed to lock onto me the second she spotted where we were standing. There was no hesitation in her stride as she crossed the kitchen, weaving around people like she had done it a hundred times before.

Then she stopped right in front of us.

“You must be Zyan,” she said, like she already knew the answer.

I hesitated for half a second before nodding. My dad’s hand rested against my shoulder, steady and reassuring, his thumb brushing lightly back and forth.

“I’m Casey Mitchell,” she continued, her tone quick but not unfriendly. “Kyan’s best friend.”

“Hi,” I said quietly, feeling my face warm under her attention.

“Kyan’s told me a lot about you,” she went on, stepping just a little closer like she couldn’t help herself. “The rest of us have been dying to meet you. Tatum wouldn’t shut up about it this morning, and Heath pretended he didn’t care, but he totally does.” She tilted her head slightly as she looked at me more closely. “You’re definitely cuter than Kyan, though.”

“That’s not possible,” Kyan’s voice cut in from behind her as he stepped back into the kitchen. “We’re identical.”

“Not completely,” Casey replied immediately, not even turning around. Her eyes stayed on me, studying in a way that made me shift slightly without meaning to. “You’re more tan than he is, for one. And your hair’s shorter.” She leaned in just a fraction, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “And I think Zyan has a tiny scar just under his eyebrow.”

My body tensed before I could stop it.

It was small. Barely noticeable unless you knew where to look.

But she had seen it.

My dad’s hand stilled for half a second before he started rubbing my shoulder a little more firmly, grounding me again. I kept my eyes on Casey, trying not to react too much, but I could feel the shift inside me—the awareness, the instinct to pull back.

She noticed.

“Oh—hey,” she said quickly, her tone softening as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a quick, unexpected hug. “It’s not a bad thing, I promise. I had to actually look for it.”

I hesitated, then slowly relaxed, letting out a small breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. She pulled back after a second, smiling like nothing about that moment had been awkward at all.

“It just makes it easier to tell you apart,” she added with a shrug.

That… helped.

A little.

“Come on,” she said suddenly, her energy picking right back up as she reached down and grabbed my hand. “There’s a bunch of people I want you to meet.”

I glanced up at my dad without thinking.

He gave me a small nod, his expression calm, like he trusted where this was going. “I’ll be right here,” he said.

That was enough.

I let Casey pull me along, even if I stayed just a step behind her, my grip a little tighter than it needed to be as she led me back toward the noise waiting outside.

Casey didn’t slow down once we stepped outside.

The noise picked up immediately, louder than it had been before, but it felt different this time. Not as sharp. Not as overwhelming right away. Maybe because I knew what to expect now. Maybe because I wasn’t walking into it alone.

She wove us through clusters of people, pointing things out as we moved, talking almost nonstop as if she was trying to fill every second with something familiar. “And that’s the stage again, obviously, and the food’s over there—don’t let Kyan near the desserts or he’ll eat half of them before anyone else gets a chance—and—oh, there he is.”

I barely had time to process anything she was saying before she stopped.

“This is your Uncle Derek, Zyan,” she added quickly. “I’ll be right back—I have to go find Deedra before she explodes.”

Then she was gone.

I stood there, still trying to catch up, when the man in front of me leaned forward slightly, his attention settling fully on me.

“And you must be the infamous Zyan Montgomery,” he said smoothly, a faint grin pulling at his expression. “The one everyone’s been dying to meet.”

My face flushed instantly.

Before I could even think of what to say, he reached down and lifted me up with an easy, practiced motion, settling me onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm came around me without hesitation, relaxed but steady.

“I’ve been waiting to hold you since your dad called me last night,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less sure. “I was on the first flight out of L.A. I could find.”

I blinked up at him, caught off guard by how direct it was.

“I can’t believe you’re back,” he added, shaking his head slightly, like he was still convincing himself it was real. “Not letting you disappear on us again, nephew.”

Then he pulled me in without hesitation.

I didn’t fight it.

I let it happen, still trying to process everything as his arms wrapped around me, steady and warm in a way that felt different from my dad’s or Kyan’s, but not unfamiliar.

I shifted slightly after a moment, glancing up at him again. “What do you do?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “Are you the actor Deedra was talking about?”

“In the flesh,” he replied without missing a beat.

I studied him for a second.

He didn’t look like what I expected. No suit, no crowd hovering around him right now. Just a gray t-shirt and cargo shorts, like he could’ve been anybody sitting out here.

The thought slipped out before I could stop it.

“But… you don’t look like you’re anybody important.”

The second the words left my mouth, I froze.

Heat rushed up my neck as I realized what I had just said. “I didn’t mean—” I started quickly, trying to pull away. “Sorry, Uncle Derek, I didn’t mean it like that—”

He didn’t let me go.

Instead, his arm tightened just enough to keep me where I was as a laugh broke out of him—full, genuine, and completely unbothered.

“That might be the best thing anyone’s said to me all week,” he said easily. “Don’t take it back.”

I went still, my embarrassment twisting tighter as the moment lingered.

“What’s wrong with Zyan?”

I turned slightly to see Sarah stepping closer, her expression shifting as she took in my face.

“He looks like he’s about to bolt.”

That didn’t help.

I tried to steady myself, but everything caught up all at once—the noise, the attention, the mistake—and I felt it slip before I could stop it. A tear slid down my cheek as I struggled to keep my breathing even.

Derek noticed immediately. His tone shifted just enough to soften without losing its confidence as his hand moved to the back of my head, guiding me lightly against him while his other hand rubbed my back in slow, steady motions.

“Hey, easy,” he said calmly. “I’m not mad. Not even a little. That was honest, and I’ll take that over flattery any day.”

“What did he say?” Sarah asked as she sat down beside us.

Derek glanced over at her, still composed, still faintly amused. “He told me I don’t look like anybody important.”

Sarah didn’t even try to hold it in. She burst out laughing, leaning back as she covered her mouth. “Oh my God,” she managed between breaths. “That’s incredible.”

Derek smirked. “Refreshing, right?”

“Extremely,” she shot back. “Somebody not treating you like a celebrity for five minutes.”

I sniffled, trying to pull myself back together as Derek’s hand continued its steady rhythm against my back.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I muttered again.

“I know,” he said simply. “That’s why it worked.”

That helped more than I expected.

The moment settled just enough for me to breathe again, the embarrassment easing into something quieter.

“Hey, guys.”

I looked up to see my dad approaching, his eyes going straight to me. He took in everything in a single glance, but didn’t make a big deal out of it.

“Mind if I steal him for a minute?” he asked, his tone easy.

Derek nodded without hesitation. “All yours.”

My dad stepped closer, and I leaned into him as he lifted me from Derek’s lap, his arms wrapping around me in a way that felt immediately steadier.

“He looks like he could use a reset,” my dad added lightly.

My stomach chose that exact moment to growl, loud enough for all of them to hear.

Heat rushed back to my face.

Derek let out another quiet laugh. “Perfect timing.”

My dad grinned slightly. “I think that answers that.”

Derek leaned forward just enough to pull me into a quick, one-armed hug before letting go. “I’m glad you’re back, Zyan,” he said, his tone softer now but still certain. “Things weren’t the same without you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

My dad adjusted his hold and turned away, already guiding us back through the crowd.

I sat between my mother and father at one of the long tables set up in the backyard where everyone had gathered to eat. The band played softly in the background now, the music blending into the steady hum of conversation around us. Plates shifted, glasses clinked, laughter rose and fell in small bursts, and for a moment, I just sat there and took it all in.

Kyan sat across from me, talking with Gavin and Toby while Sarah leaned slightly toward them, half involved in their conversation and half listening to something Uncle Derek was saying beside her. My mom and dad were close on either side of me, their presence steady in a way that made everything feel a little more manageable. Greg and Natalie sat just beyond my dad, while my friends filled the other end of the table near my mom, their voices familiar enough to cut through the noise without adding to it.

Yesterday, I hadn’t had any of this.

Now it was everywhere.

“Are you okay, Zyan?”

I turned slightly at my dad’s voice, lowering my gaze to him.

“I think so,” I said quietly.

He studied me for a second before nodding, his hand brushing lightly against my back in a grounding motion that I was starting to recognize. “Just let me know if you need a break, alright?”

I nodded again and turned my attention back to my plate, picking at my food more than actually eating it as conversations continued around me. Most of it blended together, voices overlapping and fading in and out, but one conversation slowly pulled my attention in without me meaning for it to.

It was my mom.

“And you’ve thought more about the service animal?” Natalie asked gently, her voice low but clear enough that it carried.

“I have,” my mom replied, quieter, more focused. “I just… I don’t really understand how it works.”

“They’re trained to recognize the signs before an episode fully hits,” Natalie explained. “Sometimes even before he realizes it himself. They can interrupt the cycle, ground him, help him focus. And if it gets too overwhelming, they’re trained to go get help.”

I didn’t mean to listen.

But I couldn’t stop.

“They can respond to anxiety, panic, even dissociation,” Natalie continued. “It’s not just about reacting—it’s about preventing things from escalating.”

My mom nodded slowly, her attention fully on Natalie now. “That could help him,” she said quietly.

The word him didn’t sound wrong.

But it didn’t feel right either.

I stared down at my plate, my fork still in my hand, but I wasn’t really seeing any of it anymore. Their voices kept going, soft and careful, but something about the way they were talking—like they were trying to fix something—started to settle into my chest in a way that didn’t feel good.

They were talking about me.

About what was wrong with me.

The thought didn’t hit all at once. It slipped in slowly, quietly, like it had been waiting for the right moment. Then it stuck there, pressing a little harder with every second that passed.

They needed something to help me.

To manage me.

To make sure I didn’t fall apart again.

My fingers tightened slightly around the fork without me realizing it, the metal pressing into my skin as the noise around me started to blur at the edges. Conversations stretched and overlapped, turning into something distant and warped as my focus narrowed whether I wanted it to or not.

You’re such a disappointment, Zachary.

The voice cut through everything.

Cold. Sharp. Familiar in a way that made my chest tighten instantly.

I swallowed hard, my breathing shifting as the words echoed again, louder this time, pushing everything else further away.

You’re fucking worthless. You don’t deserve any of this.

The table. The people. My family.

All of it felt just a little farther away.

You’re only good for one thing.

My grip tightened more, my hand going still as the words repeated, overlapping now, faster, louder, harder to push back. I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second, trying to force it away, but it didn’t work. It never worked once it got this far.

The edges of my vision began to darken, the world tilting slightly as everything started to feel off-balance. My heart pounded harder in my chest, each beat heavier than the last, filling the space where the rest of the noise had faded out.

I tried to take a breath.

It didn’t feel like enough.

Everything around me kept spinning, slow at first, then faster, the ground beneath me feeling less steady with every passing second as the voice continued to press in, leaving no room for anything else.