Chapter Nineteen

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"(Y/N)..." A voice cooed softly, right up against your ear and making it tickle each time the sounds got too soft or too loud. You didn't feel as though you could move your head in order to get rid of the itching, but then another feeling hit your brain. Something was continuously rubbing the same spot on your hand, and it was overly sensitive from the touch, almost to the point where it was painful for the skin to be moved in the exact same spot and the exact same way. You're whole body was fighting for just a little more rest on the warm, uneven surface you'd fallen asleep against, but the unknown stimuli that kept pestering your head with sound and the raw skin that continued to be touched on your hand was messing with your need to catch a few more Z's. Your eyes cracked open, though your (S/C) eyelids kept close to let in as little light as possible, and even that small amount made shadows of orange and yellow surrounded by a dying purple over your vision when you blinked your eyes closed again and turned inward to protect the sensitive organs from the invading light. A whiny moan fled your lips at the brightness that your poor eyes had been met with, and that sound was met with a stopping of both the uncomfortable whispering of your name and the rubbing of pained skin on the back of your hand to be replaced by a deep, hearty chuckle that bounced your own chest with the outward pressure of inhaling. That's when you realized you were sitting in somebody's lap with your face in their shirt.
Your head jerked upward at the knowledge, clipping the person's chin on the top of your head as you did so with a dull thud that probably hurt them a lot more than it did you, and you strained your overexposed eyes at whoever it was in order to get a visual image. Your (E/C) extremities met with dark crimson ones, circulating in a sea of black skin and a shiny yellow smile that seemed oddly soft for one in pain. His face was pulled tight from the impact of your head on his jaw, and he had one hand braced against the area of injury, but his grin was bright, toothy, and happy. It took you almost a full minute of blind staring at his familiar face before your implanted memories kicked in with a little spurt of stabbing pain at the head of your spine, right in your neck.

You grabbed the flesh in a tight grip to keep the pain away and muttered the name that had apparently caused you so much suffering for the little time you'd been with him. "James."

"Oh, good!" The hacker exclaimed at the sound of his name leaving your throat, that grin turning outward a bit more on one side to make a smirk as he let the hand that had rubbing the sore spot on his chin drop to the couch beneath him. "I was afraid he'd completely killed your memories, with how you reacted at the rescue."
He didn't mention who the other male was in the sentence - just expected you to remember all that had happened before you had giving in to the blackness to get some sleep. But the mention of a rescue did trigger something for you; the metal restraints on your wrists and ankles(the memory made you ball up your hands into fists), tubes of orange liquid draining into your body, the unbearable pain that sent your body virtually on fire and into the ice age at the same time(a shiver coursed up your spine with remembered pain), and, of course, the brown-garbed, shiny-headed God of Creation who stuck you in a metal cage to be tested upon. James observed your reactions to the flowing memories with a blank face, lacking in any emotion or nonverbal response to your actions in any way, though he was starting to piece together that your memories were in more shambles than originally he thought. A full wipe would've been annoying, but the hacker could always make new ones with you; but if his suspicions of memory replacement were the case, it would be a much more painful process for you to regain the things kicked out by the lies and fallacies forced into your head about as gracefully as Bambi on ice.

"(Y/N)?" The red-eyed man raised one eyebrow as he attempted to get your attention by speaking your name so he could further investigate the happenings in your mind. Uncomfortable as it was, you shifted to follow his hand to the seat of the couch next to the charcoal colored being instead of on his lap, and hummed quietly in replacement of a verbal answer so he knew to continue. The hacker placed a hand on his own thigh, still warm from when you were sharing your body heat with him, and worked up a few words, trying to gently ease an answer out of you. "What do you remember of before you got kidnapped?"

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