Chapter Text
"Wait."
A flickering flame of hope, growing stronger by the minute. She doesn't turn around, yet she does pause. Her lips stay shut, but her mind wanders; trying to think of every possible thing he could say. A small part of her wished none would convince her to stay.
A long, tired sigh emits from him, as he seems to finally admit 'defeat'. She quietly taps her left foot, seemingly nervous.
"Look, I..."
He pauses for several moments.
[Likely looking for a good deflection.]
He speaks up once again.
"I hate your honesty."
She manages to keep her stature the same, despite her surprise.
[He's... being genuine?]
"I hate how you can see through others, no matter how much they hide. I hate how you encourage them to talk. I hate how you make them think back to the past and reminisce. I hate how much you've changed the circus. I hate..."
He takes a shaky breath.
"Jax, I-"
He cuts her off, responding with immense emotion in his voice.
"No! Stop trying to forgive me when I don't deserve it! Don't you know you're just wasting your time?! Don't you know..."
His yelling is slowly replaced by sobs that bounce off the walls, startling her. She quickly turns around, yet hesitates.
[Seriously though, how does everyone in this circus manage to have mental issues simultaneously? Nevermind that, how am I supposed to handle this?]
Jax rests his head in his hands, trembling as he cries. Pomni slowly starts to walk back to him, stopping right behind the couch. She could burn holes into it with how much she's avoiding eye contact.
[Do literally anything!! Stop standing there like an idiot!!]
Before she could think hard enough about it, she'd once again sat down and laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinches at the sudden touch, but doesn't reject it.
A sweet smile spreads across her lips.
"I didn't know you had a list off the top of your head." She joked, hoping it'd cheer him up.
He turns his head away, sniffling.
"Yeah well, you inspire the worst in me, Pom-pom."
"You know I don't think that's true."
He quietly wipes the tears rolling down his cheeks, less agitated than before.
"I think I've got the hang of what you do think."
[If you did, we wouldn't be like this in the first place.]
She leans closer to him.
"I don't want to fight you. And I know you don't want to fight me either. Can't we just..."
[Be friends again? Can't we just make up so I no longer dread seeing anything that reminds me of you?]
"Talk..? Yeah, I'm not really the opening-up type." [I think we've figured that out already.]
He turns his head to face her; his gaze distant yet close. Her smile deepens.
"You know, everyone starts somewhere. You just happened to, uh, start with a... sincere monologue. Baby steps, as they say."
He chuckles sincerely, his walls slowly crumbling down in front of her. Each brick is gently put away, until all that's left is purely him.
"Of course you'd still be cliché while I'm pouring my heart out to you."
"Oh, Mr. Funny One is calling me out on being cliché? Not really indicative of your 'archetype'."
She replied, making air quotes with her left hand. He raises his hands in mock defeat.
"Alright, I'll surrender the archetype thing if you stop beating me up over it."
[To be fair, I only did that once.]
She raises her fist in mock triumph.
"I thought I'd never live to see the day!"
She took back her hand, and laid back on the noisy couch, him following soon after.
He spoke up.
"I know we have a...couple things to talk about..."
[Oh, so we're having an entire conversation after this roller-coaster? Like, right this minute?]
He continues.
"But do you just want to watch this horribly-written show with me for now?"
She hesitated. While it did feel like he was stalling, she knew it was a step in the right direction.
She laid her head on his shoulder.
"I thought you'd never ask."
He put his arm around her and pulls her closer.
[We'll be ok, I just know it.]