Chapter Text
‘God. Aren’t I stupid.’
Tossing and turning in the bed, sheets tangling with his feet. Taking a nap would presumably ease anxiety, but the thought of closing his eyes to see everything he’s destroyed does not seem appealing right now. Begrudgingly, Jax gives up on his attempt at restless sleep and turns to face his ceiling. He stares at it like it owed him money.
Why did I have to add more salt on an open wound, why did I say that?
The question is left unanswered, whispered in the stagnant air.
At the very least, nothing was real, and the possibility of his little meltdown being forgotten over the years is high. His words were as artificial as this circus, and it will both be glitched out of existence in due time.
With the thought, he exhaled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. If he was once as real as the air, as the sky full of stars, and now he had been reduced to pixels in a dying plane, then what is the true weight of his actions in this fake world? Everyone else had seemed to accept his downfall, his reduction to the archetype meant to display entertainment. He is simply accepting the reality of a fake life, in a fake world. In comparison to the others, he should be the most sane, he’s the one going with the flow. But oh, how wrong could he be.
People come and go, like waves to water. He has seen how connections cause suffering, Jax has lived it himself. Cared for someone so much, trying to keep them together just to have it slip out of his fingers in one mere moment. He understood the consequence of friendship, of being a part of love that makes you human in this world. He decided long ago that it wasn’t worth losing your sanity over the inevitable. Care only lasts so long, unconditional runs out in due time, it’s a limited supply.
Yet, one small wide-eyed jester came in, and got too close to the sun. She became Icarus, getting near the untouchable and irreparably getting burned for it.
How long until she abstracts as well because the sun is too hot? Too much?
‘&$!-‘ Jax passes his hands through his face. This is going to be a long $&1-! night.
Either way, nothing could be done, right? He ruined the closest thing to real he could ever have. All because of fear, or maybe vulnerability. He is so stupid.
Seconds, minutes, maybe an hour or two passes by before Jax ultimately gives up making sense of his mind and of his fabricated actions. With a sigh and a swoop of his long legs he stands up from his messed up bed and head out the door. ‘I need a glass of water. Or coffee. Or a $&!/$@- drink…’
The soft glow down the hallway guides Jax to the kitchen, who assumes that it’s still an ungodly hour at night (or trying to emulate as so). He walks as quietly as possible, checking to make sure he is alone in the public area. He hasn’t made an appearance at all after the ceremony, and frankly, he knew that no one would care anymore if he did or not.
He grabs a glass from the cabinet and fill it up with water from the sink. He stares at the inside and deems it safe to drink with a shrug. His mind swirls with doubts and lonesome hatred as he gulps down the ‘liquid’. As soon as Jax turned on the sink again to drink more, a pair of soft footsteps echoed at the entrance of the kitchen. Unfortunately, he was too focused on the water to catch it. His breath hitches as he hears the voice of someone he was hoping to never see again.
“Jax?”
&$!@. This is going to be a long night.