Adamantine

Chapter Two

And Thomas had thought that being kidnapped by the girls in Group B was awkward. But nothing can possibly compare to this.

Thomas shifts in his spot on the sofa. Poker-Face is directly to his right, a red-headed girl sitting in his lap, and a dark-skinned boy is sitting on his left, a girl with dirty blond hair relaxed into his lap. The other teenager who'd shown up at the door, the one with chestnut brown curls and semi-wide eyes, is sitting in a very cozy looking armchair. A slightly older looking guy with a defined jaw and hostile expression is standing beside him, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, green-grey eyes absolutely piercing. Uneven Jawline is standing off to the side of the couch, arms folded across his chest. Aside from Uneven Jawline, who's zoning out at the blank TV screen positioned in front of the couch, everyone is staring unwaveringly at Thomas.

"So, where've you been for the past three months?" the girl with blond hair and semi-revealing clothes asks, a slight teasing edge to her voice. Her gaze keeps flitting up to his hair, but Thomas decides to ignore it.

"It's a long story. Honestly, you probably won't believe me when I tell you. But, first things first, you have to answer my question."

"Your question?" Poker-Face huffs with a raised eyebrow. Thomas nods.

"Yeah. I asked a few minutes ago, before you all hauled me in here, and I never got an answer."

"Ask, then," Uneven Jawline speaks up, tearing his eyes away from the blank television to peer at Thomas.

"Who are you guys? Did I know you? From before?" Thomas asks bluntly. He feels slightly guilty for asking, because clearly they know who he is, but he can't say who these people are for the life of him. Damn WICKED and their stupid shuck memory blocks.

Silence overtakes the room, and it isn't a comfortable silence either. Rather, it's the type of silence one would expect to fall when someone alerts their friend that their brother died. And maybe, in these peoples' minds, that's exactly what happened. Thomas shifts uncomfortably.

"Stiles.... do you...do you not remember us? At all?" Uneven Jawline asks softly, heart-broken eyes betraying how upset he really is. Perhaps the semi-hostile tone of Thomas's voice doesn't help the matter.

"What the hell is a 'Stiles'?"

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The reaction he receives comes mainly from the red-head. She chokes out a strangled noise, but whether it's a laugh or a sob, Thomas cannot discern.

"S-Stiles.... Stiles is your name," Uneven Jawline informs, lower lip quivering and big eyes wide with sorrow. "How.... How do you not remember your name?... Oh God, what did they do to you?" Thomas can't find it in himself to answer, numbness washing over him in waves. There's not even a hint of familiarity in the name "Stiles", and that's what worries him.

The silence presses in once more, but it doesn't last as long this time.

"Where have you been for the past three months? It's your turn to answer our question." It's Leather Jacket who speaks up, for the first time since Thomas arrived. Thomas looks up from where he'd been staring at his hands, clasped in his lap, and holds an even gaze with Leather Jacket. Thomas looks away first, wanting to roll his eyes. He takes a few seconds taken to collect his thoughts into a semi-intelligable answer.