Chapter Text
If Ragatha were to put it quite plainly, Jax was stupid.
It certainly wasn’t a new revelation, and it wasn’t hard to see, either.
Maybe it was the slight grudge she held against him talking. Maybe at one point when she looked at him, she saw what he’d done to her more than she saw him.
But him and what he’d done to her were things that went hand in hand.
Looking back on what they were—them and their strange, never-consistent relationship—always filled her with something she couldn’t quite name. Grief? Anger? Regret? It all tended to blur together.
Maybe it was because of the elusiveness of it all.
Every time Ragatha thought they leaned into what almost called itself love, Jax took a U-turn in the other direction. Inversely, when Ragatha could swear she hated him (even if she felt like she had no capacity in her heart to feel that way), he did something to remind her of his humanity, of his quiet kindness he wanted to hide so badly.
And she would try to ground herself. Remind herself in bad times that the Jax she used to know was still there, just further down. In good times, she would think that maybe things could stay this way forever if she tried hard enough.
It was confusing, and it hurt.
But they never talked about it.
It was as if that was the one rule they had with each other.
One of them found their way into the other’s bed at night? We don’t talk about it. Jax hit a particularly sore spot in a jab he thought was miniscule? We don’t talk about it. Ragatha pushed him a little too hard? We don’t talk about it.
She remembered the first time the rule was outright said. It was so clear to her. She could imagine it as if she were living it for the first time. It was something so ingrained into her mind, because of him.
“Don’t talk about her. We—I can’t. I never want to hear her name ever again.”
Ragatha was stunned. “Are… are you serious right now?”
How could he say something like that? After everything? Were he and Ribbit not important enough? Were he and Ragatha not—
Were they not close enough?
“Why would I not be? Give me one good reason why I should ever think about them.”
“Are you serious? They were your best friend, Jax!”
He scoffed. “You seriously can’t think that.”
“Jax, you’re telling me that the person you hung out with every single day, the person you laughed with, the person you told stories to, the person you opened up to the most, is not your friend? I’d have to be an idiot to not see that.”
“We weren’t what you think. She wasn’t what you think.”
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Jax—”
“Stop prying! God.” He looked away from her, closing himself off. His arms crossed, and his posture almost shrank.
Ragatha, as she always did, tried to look into his body language. She tried to see what she could gather from his fleeting vulnerability and confusing words. Instead of helping, his silence only made her confusion fester and grow. Usually, he was easier to read. What sort of thing happened to make him break away from her so quickly? So easily?
“I’m not trying to pry, Jax, I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong. Maybe if you’d just tell me, I could help you—”
“I don’t need your help! I’m fine. I’m not some stupid project for you to fix up. And stop acting like this is real. None of it is. We’re stupid cartoons, we don’t die, and we don’t grieve. We just move on. None of those stupid feelings you have are real. You’re just fine, and you know that.”
The words felt like someone ripped out every vital organ within her. What she felt was real, she knew that. She was a person, a human being. Of course what she felt was real. She knew that, and she knew Jax knew it deep down too. Jax was a liar, and he was not only lying to her, but to himself. He wasn’t okay with Ribbit’s death, and knowing he was human killed him.
But, instead of arguing, instead of calling his bluff when she knew she should’ve, she folded.
“Fine. If you don’t want to acknowledge anything, that’s fine by me, Jax. I won’t talk about her. I—I promise.”
“Huh—What?”
Jax and Ragatha were both pulled from their conversation, finding a new person suddenly standing on the stage.
Then they never spoke about Ribbit again.
But Ragatha thought about it. She didn’t know if Jax ever did. The thought kept her up at night. Did the way he treated Ribbit—treated her—keep him up at night? Did he ever think about the shift in their relationship? Did it make him feel bad? Did he regret anything?
Every single day she tried to find something there. Something that told her that he might feel the tiniest bit of remorse for her. It felt like looking for something you already knew was gone. She had hope, though. Tried to, at least.
She smiled as Jax insulted her, watched as he forced himself to turn away from her. It was like he wanted to convince everyone that nothing happened, and that everything was fine.
It left them in this weird limbo.
They were stuck there—trapped in an endless loop of who could push the other away more. Even when they both knew it hurt, even when she wanted nothing more than to force him into that difficult conversation, neither of them did anything except watch the other.
And, for some reason, not talking about Ribbit soon turned into barely talking at all.
Overnight, within just a few digital hours, Ragatha was nothing more than some other person to him. Not someone he used to spend hours with, not someone he almost opened up to, not someone he was quietly vulnerable with.
She was just Ragatha, and suddenly, her name held no meaning to him.
He didn’t outright ignore her existence, which, honestly, made it worse. It was just quiet. He’d still talk to her, just not as much. He’d look her way, but never hold eye contact for as long as he used to.
It was intentional, she knew that. There was no way for it to not be. It was hard to ignore the history they had without actively trying to.
But whether it was to distance himself or to give her a reason to reach out, she didn’t know.
Because these silences, these lingering eyes, they only left her with one thing on her mind—him. That was all there was, and while he could help it, that was all there would be. Present Ragatha cursed Jax because now this was infinitely true: Jax would forever be on her mind, and he wouldn’t do anything about it.
He couldn’t.
Watching his abstracted form angrily rampage throughout the circus only made the non-existent heart in her chest ache more.
She fully believed what she told Pomni—it should’ve been her. She should’ve been driven insane at the thought of her friends. Him abandoning her and leaving her grief frozen in time should’ve messed her up.
It was all backwards, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
And they had been friends. That was true too. She only got as close to Jax as he’d let her, which wasn’t as close as she would’ve liked, but it was something.
They had long conversations with one another, they laughed together, they sat at her piano and messed around until they were too tired to think.
Then—they didn’t. She’d made her promise, but she didn’t know that she’d have to learn to grieve their friendship in silence too.
She always thought about certain what ifs. What if Ribbit never abstracted? What if Jax was able to mourn her properly? What if Ragatha never made that promise to him?
What would’ve been different? Would they have still been friends? She liked to think so. Maybe they still laughed together, and maybe he wasn’t just one more person she had to miss.
Even after the dust settled, and they began to fall into a regular routine in this new circus, Ragatha still felt haunted.
Turns out, trying to grieve three people all at once so suddenly was tough.
She assumed it was written on her face when Pomni approached her.
“Hey, Ragatha?”
“Yeah?” She turned to her friend, putting a smile on her face.
“I, uh… do you think we could go up to the cafe? And hang out?” Pomni’s fingers anxiously fiddled together as she looked up at Ragatha.
“Of course we can.”
The walk up was quiet, bordering on awkward. Ragatha knew there was something under the surface, something Pomni wasn’t telling her. It made her anxiety spike. What could she possibly have to say?
In the cafe, Ragatha ordered what she always did—a hot chocolate with whipped cream. She thought that maybe the familiar taste would bring her comfort.
“So, Ragatha…”
“Yes?” Ragatha tried to hide the fact that she felt like she could throw up.
“I have something to tell you—”
“Okay…”
“—About Jax.”
“Oh.” Those were the last words she expected to hear from Pomni’s mouth. Ever since Jax’s abstraction, Pomni was weird at the mention of him. Not in a bad way, but she looked more grim. She was hoping Pomni would come to her if she felt bad, but she also understood she probably needed space and time to absorb everything.
“I know you two were friends, and something’s been sitting in my mind for a while, and… I just thought you should know.”
“Wh—What is it?”
“When Jax abstracted, I met his form in the hallway—it’s hard to explain, and I’m sure it’s hard to understand, but… I’ll try my best to make it understandable.”
Ragatha just nodded, giving Pomni the time to collect her thoughts.
“It’s like I was… transferred into his brain? It was weird. And, there were these doorways I could go through. From what I understood, each one was like a scenario.” Pomni frowned at her sandwich.
“What kind of scenario?”
“Each door was what would’ve happened if any of you guys would’ve abstracted instead. Like, how Jax felt he would’ve acted in those different scenarios.”
“Oh.” Ragatha felt like she knew what was coming. Jax hated you so much, he threw a party after you abstracted! That, or he was just completely the same. She truly became just another photo on a door. She was never really anything to him, and she was right all along—-
“Yours affected him the most.”
Ragatha opened her mouth to react, but nothing came out. She was stunned.
“I know this is probably really weird to hear, but it’s true. I was honestly kind of scared of him in that scenario.” She let out a weak laugh. “But, I thought you should know.”
“What…” She cleared her throat, trying to hide the emotion trying to crawl out. “What happened? In the scenario?”
“Well, at first he was just kind of… staring at your door. Looking at the red x on your photo. Then he like… pressed his hand against it, caressing it, and kept staring. Like he couldn’t believe it. And when I told him I was there for him, he attacked me. The entire time, he had no emotion at all on his face, until he attacked me. It was weird.”
Ragatha had no clue what to do with knowing this. It gave a depth to their relationship she couldn’t acknowledge. How do you ask someone what you were to them after they’re gone?
“Ragatha?”
“Sorry, I just…” Was she going to cry? She didn’t want to. But the feeling came anyway.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Pomni placed a steadying hand on her arm. “You don’t have to hold anything in, you know?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s… it’s complicated, I guess.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I don’t know how to feel.”
“I wouldn’t, either.”
Ragatha huffed out a tearful laugh. “It’s so Jax, though. Of course he’d do this.”
“Do what?”
“Show that he feels something other than hate for me after we can’t talk about it.”
“I don’t think he ever hated you, Ragatha.”
“It was hard to believe that most of the time.” She tried to find comfort in clutching her mug, wrapping her fingers around it.
“Well, as someone who was literally in his head… I think he felt more for you than he let on.”
The idea of it warmed her. It lit a spark of something long forgotten. Only to be burned out when she remembered that nothing could come of it. Sure, she found out that Jax actually didn’t hate her, but it was a fact she could only enjoy so much.
She was stuck between too many emotions, and didn’t have an outlet for any of them. She wished he was still here, even if it meant he’d stay the same. She’d go through whatever he had in store for her if it meant he’d be there.
And maybe Jax wasn’t as stupid as she believed. Maybe this was his ultimate goal. To never give her closure, never acknowledge any of the things they felt or said to one another.
Even if he didn’t want it to be this way, it still proved that one thing about them would be forever unchanged—they’ll never talk about it.