SCP-049 x Reader - Untouchable

Chapter 4

[4 — Statue]

A/N:

   That feel when you're like "ah, yes, I'll write down a couple small notes for this story so I at least sort of know what I'm doing," and then you end up writing THREE PAGES WORTH OF THE ENTIRE PLOT IN ONE SITTING.

—————————

   A chuckle exerted itself out of him, which the idea was unheard of to me until just then. "Oh, quite the contrary to what you've said earlier. Didn't you emphasise the importance of escape some time ago?"

   My face vaguely flushed. "Look, I..." He wasn't wrong. "I mean, just... If we pass by the opportunity, and it won't get us caught... I'd really like to know." Biting my bottom lip, I clenched my hands into fists.

   It didn't seem to entirely move him. "And why do you want to know?"

   "Because I don't have my memory!" I couldn't help but snap, brows knitting together. "I don't know who I am, and how I got to being sent to my death for some supposedly terrible thing I've done. A terrible thing I don't even know!"

   Maybe it was stupid to hiss at somebody so dangerous. He could end me just with a tap on the tip of my nose— Even if he didn't see it that way.

   His hand— Which I had forgotten was on my shoulder— Was finally taken off of me. "I believe you were originally brought in this room to rest."

   I forced myself calm with a long, heavy sigh; my body deflating. "I was..." Going back to the computer, I noticed I had already gone through four logs, and there was only seven in total. Wait, but... Haven't I been working here for a long while? I'd imagine, which everything I've heard about. Were the others deleted?

   "I'll look through these last few logs and then we can get moving again." I decided, realising once more exactly how worn out I had felt.

   "Do inform me of anything important, then." The SCP brushed past me towards the shelf of books, my eyes following.

   I had watched closely as the skirt of his overcoat wafted along with his movement, a light scuffing of the bottom of his boots audible against the wooden floor. Every little shift as he looked along the contaminants of the shelves, deciding what to touch first.

   He was just... Nice to watch. To look at.

   Shaking my head and returning to the files, I read up on them as relatively fast as I could, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. Of course, I was still tired, but maybe that was more emotionally than physically. I wasn't able to tell at that point.

   The first and second one I had looked at were more drafts of reports for 049, so there wasn't anything important. The last one mentioned that the computer had been hacked by, supposedly, the stalker, and that past me would be writing everything down on paper from then on.

   With that, I had stood up from the chair and started towards him in a slow pace after closing everything and shutting the computer down, noticing the binder he was looking into was labeled with his number.

   When I was about a foot away from him, he had shifted his attention from whatever was in there to me. "Hello there. Done searching, are we?"

   I spoke bluntly. "On the computer, at least. Past [Name] mentioned writing more stuff down on paper."

   He closed the binder, slipping it back onto the shelf. "And then we must get going again."

   "Yeah, yeah, I know..." I had grumbled, shifting a bit closer to him to get a better view of what little was even on the shelf.