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A frog was perched on the windowsill, but for once, it wasn’t at the forefront of Dylan-not-Jax’s mind.
He was slouched on a couch that wasn’t his beside June-- not Pomni, just June, now. Her posture matched his and her laptop was halfway on her thigh and halfway on his from where they were pressed together. The frog ribbited silently.
It was Dylan’s second time here. Last time was nerve wracking and electrifying and a first meeting with the jester who helped them escape from the Digital Circus. They’d spent half the time finding various ways to try and find the others, and then that devolved into a fourth of the time, until they were giggling in the middle of the night like teenagers as they watched anime.
He’d fallen asleep in her bed and woken up with her arm over his chest. They never talked about it. He didn’t intend to talk about it.
That was two months ago. There’d been the holidays, those of which forced him to reveal his lack of family situation to her, a conversation that… hadn’t been as torturous as he expected, actually. She got snowed in at least three times while he never saw snow. Neither of them found any of their friends from the Circus.
Dylan garnered the courage to offer to fly June to his place. Instead, she bought him a ticket back to Portland. He’d boarded a plane for the fourth time in his life and spun her in a hug at the train station outside of the airport.
He didn’t care about Portland, couldn’t even say he was attached to the coffee shop that June loved so much. He liked being with her, though.
God, that was embarrassing.
He looked away from the frog and the computer screen, glancing at June in his best attempt at not staring at her. She was biting her cheek, staring at the screen like it would hold the answers to the Caine & Abel company that was driving her mad. He was feeling increasing warmth in his chest when he talked to her, warmth that he didn’t like.
Brown eyes, so unlike her eyes in the Circus yet so similar at the same time, darted to him, catching him staring. He looked back at the computer and whistled, making a joke out of the situation that would have otherwise been embarrassing. Nothing was embarrassing if he was in control of the situation; she had to be used to that logic from him in the Circus. That, and the four months of talking everyday.
She huffed something like a laugh and went back to scrolling, the legal words on the screen meaning absolutely nothing to either of them. She scrolled all the way to the bottom, exasperatedly, and slammed the laptop shut. They’d been at this all morning.
He didn’t have a joke to make, not this time. He wanted to find them too, or to find answers, or anything that wasn’t a complete mystery about the hell that made them think years were passing. The frog hopped along the windowsill, visible in his peripheral vision. On his other side, the cat that Dylan had started to compare to Bubble from the Circus approached him. He didn’t like it.
June leaned her head back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling as if it’d hold the answers. He tried to imagine her from before the Circus, laying in here, staring at the ceiling as if it’d have some answers to creating an entertaining life. They both certainly got entertainment, that much was for sure.
“Have you still been having those dreams?”
He didn't stiffen, not when they were pressed side to side on the couch. Her eyes slowly turned to him anyway, as if she somehow noticed his reaction. Scuba, the cat, climbed onto his lap. June smiled at his grimace, hopefully making her forget his reaction to the question.
“Eh,” he shrugged. “Not really.”
Brown eyes remained on him for long enough to show suspicion, but neither of them spoke a word. Dylan was slowly but surely getting better about these things, but not about this. The frog hopped out of sight.
“I have,” June smiled, petting Scuba in his lap. Her head was falling frighteningly close to his shoulder.
He wouldn’t dare ask, but he swore he remembered her once saying she hated physical contact. With every day that passed, and every day he spent beside her, he started to doubt the memory. Everything from the Circus was a little jumbled, so much time cramped into none at all, but he didn’t think he’d mix up something so clear. All of the memories of June, named Pomni, with her stupid looking jester costume and her big eyes, were pretty clear.
Her hair fell onto his shoulder as her cat kneaded its paws into his leg. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this okay with being people’s cushion before.
He was happy they each took a day off of work.
His first time here had been cramped between their weekends, leaving a mere few hours after he got off of work and going home with two hours to get from the airport and back to the restaurant that he might as well have lived in. This trip wasn’t too much better, but they’d each taken a Friday off work, when he had no classes and her office was overstaffed. It meant that he had the reassurance of three nights, his flight extremely early on Monday.
They could simply… spend time together.
“I’m guessing you have?” His hand twitched with the urge to play with her hair. He pet the cat instead.
They’d each been having dreams of the Circus, leaving them to wonder if the others were facing a similar plight. June saw Caine speaking cryptically before any of them knew why and Dylan… well. He’d only told her some of the contents of his dreams; usually when she was in them. He looked at the windowsill, but the frog was long gone, possibly dead on the pavement below them.
She hummed, head a mere inch from his shoulder. It had to take effort to hold it there instead of letting it fall. As many thoughts as he processed a second, she was nearly as bad, proving to be as nervous as he got about things nearly every time. His heart was speeding up, wasn’t it?
“That’s a yes,” he confirmed, not questioned. “What this time?”
She snapped up, hair leaving his shoulder and leaving him in charge of the damn cat. They’d been lounging around for way too long, but he wouldn’t mind if they stayed a little longer; long enough for her head to fall on his shoulder, maybe.
There was a smile on her face, one that meant something. It was like she was holding in a laugh.
“Nothing much.”
She set her laptop on the table, pushing their cups and the plate they’d picked at a muffin from into one pile. It was a really good muffin. Dylan stared at Pomni, wanting to follow her but fearful of upsetting the creature in his lap. Its teeth were as sharp as Bubble’s, that much was for sure.
“You’re lying,” he said curiously.
She hummed again, turning to flash a smile as she took the dishes away. He would have done that for her if she didn’t dart away. He really wanted to know what her dream was about. There’d been a lot of various memories, including ones which made her leave him voicemails in the middle of the night with a sleep-filled voice. He was pretty sure he knew about any of the notable ones. Was this because he’d been secretive about his own dreams? She had to be used to that, right?
“No, what,” he practically whined, sitting up and threatening to disturb her cat.
When she didn’t respond, a smile still on her face as she loaded the dishwasher, he had no choice but to lift Scuba and his sharp claws off of his lap and walk over to the kitchen. She had a small studio apartment, decorated up and down with small knick knacks she’d found at various thrift stores and acquired throughout her life. They’d agreed to throw a dish towel over the jester-like clown statue on a shelf by the door.
Her smile was sharp as she washed her hands, the dishwasher loaded with the three dishes they’d made. He should have known from the way June acted in the Circus that she was a coffee addict; she simply had that aura about her.
If she was any more serious in her secrecy, he wouldn’t have bugged her so much. There were things he never told her, and she knew him well enough to see it. This, however, was intentional. He was a little nervous it’d lead back to a way for him to tell her his secrets, but he wanted to think June wouldn’t do that. He’d tell her. Eventually. Maybe after they found Ragatha-- if they ever did.
Maybe Ragatha already told her, and he was just an idiot, thinking he had any secrets from her. He couldn't exactly ask. That question she’d asked Caine before they got out, though…
“Tell me,” he dragged the word out, dramatically draping himself over the counter beside her kitchen sink.
He expected her to walk away again, but instead, she tapped the side of his forehead. He straightened with the sudden contact, looming over her once again. Her smile was big and toothy, now, kind of like it was on the rare occasion in the Circus.
Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she leaned on the counter, knuckles on her cheek, and opened her mouth.
“Daisy-”
Dylan felt like he had a visceral reaction, the memory flying back as quickly as it must have for June in whatever dream she had. He clamped his hand over her mouth, perhaps the most forward he’d been yet, other hand landing on her shoulder as his mouth opened with disbelief.
She yanked his wrist away, “Give me your answer, do-”
“Shut up,” he laughed, trying and failing to cover her mouth again.
She ducked around him, her smile as wide as it was when they got to run around with guns.
“What, are you shy all of a sudden?” She laughed, nearly sending him tripping over her foot in her tiny kitchen as they moved in circles around each other.
“You’re making fun of me!”
“No, I’m reliving-”
He finally got a hand over her mouth again, the other wrapped around her waist from where her back was pressed into him. They both laughed, June quickly proving unable to escape, turning her head backward to look up at him. He was already looking away, staring at a wall for the mockery he was about to make of himself.
“I’m half crazy,” he exaggerated the word, June joining in as his hand left her mouth, “All for the love of you.”
They simply stared at each other for a moment, the song falling quiet. They were both out of breath from twisting around each other, all to end up singing the stupid song together. Her eyes were massive from below, head against his chest, looking at him upside down. One of his hands had her hair intertwined between his fingers.
Abruptly, June pulled away, swiveling to lean on the counter as if she had any upper hand anymore.
“That’s not really what I remembered,” she grinned.
“Really? Just felt like singing a duet?”
She rolled her eyes, “No. I remembered what I missed last time. You had a key to Zooble’s room that whole time. You just wanted to sing with me.”
His heart did a weird thumping, twisting thing, then. He did a lot of things for a lot of weird reasons back then-- maybe he still did. He thought of the scarf he’d pulled off her coat rack and taken for himself, plaid-patterned and small as it was. It smelled like June when he wrapped it up to his chin.
“Or, I just really wanted to annoy Zooble-”
“Oh, come on,” she genuinely drawled as if he was saying the stupidest thing in the world.
Yeah, okay. She knew him too well. It made him want to hit the brakes and run home, but instead he leaned slightly closer for some godforsaken reason. What was wrong with him? The answer was probably right in front of him.
“Fine, whatever,” he raised his hands beside his head. “Yeah. It was fun. Good song, right?”
She paused, as if she hadn’t expected him to actually relent. He’d changed the topic, because he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t, but that was always insignificant to her. She never missed the important things, not even when he wished she would.
“Oh,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was, a lot. Is it weird if I say I miss Caine?”
Dylan chuckled, leaning back onto the counter. He let one of his hands run through his hair, much neater ever since he’d started expecting to come here again.
“He was a weird little AI. It’d be less weird if you said you miss Zooble.”
“Of course I do!” She took it like an insult. “It’s a lot easier to think about the one we’re not trying to find… that we can't find. He seemed so real. Zooble, though… God. You knew them even longer.”
Dylan was glad he was looking at the white countertop rather than her face. He shut his eyes, recalling the frog on the windowsill.
“I don’t think Zooble had much reason to like me, actually.”
He didn’t feel bad. At least, he didn’t think he did. There was a weird mesh of emotions in his brain, though, and by trying to reinforce his own comfort he’d made Gangle pretty miserable. It wasn’t fair. He never thought it’d matter, never thought they’d be humans again. He had a feeling Zooble never believed that they stopped being humans.
June sighed, “We’ll find them, and then we’ll find out.”
She couldn’t exactly disagree; what he was saying was objectively true. On a night when she couldn’t sleep and he drove home from work they ventured a little too deep, emotions that could only be found in the middle of the night filling the space between Atlanta and Portland. She told him that she didn't think he was a bad person for the way he acted. However, she also wasn’t a person to brush over things just for someone’s comfort. He liked that about her.
“Yeah,” he straightened, stretching his arms up high. “We’ll find ‘em all.”
If Caine could see them now, he’d probably call them pathetic. Pieces on a chess board weren’t meant to be found after the game was over, not unless it started again. This game was forever done.
“Coffee?” June asked with a smile that he couldn’t say no to.
“You just had a cup. And half of mine.”
A photo of June and her parents sat on a shelf, featuring a version of her without sunken eyes. She looked a little like a stranger. He didn’t think anything bad of it, but he also wondered if sleep came easier if she didn’t fill herself with caffeine all day; she’d probably tried that.
“You said I could.”
“Yeah, ‘cus you don’t have any flavoring in these cabinets.”
She was already walking over to the open part of the apartment that she called her room, well aware he’d already agreed to go to the coffee shop that she supposedly only went to on weekdays.
“I can’t believe you need your coffee so sweet,” she giggled for the umpteenth time. “Is it weird that’s one of the things I'm most excited to tell everyone?”
“Yes.”
He couldn’t see it, but he knew she was smiling. He dug in the backpack that he’d awkwardly left beside the couch, despite only spending one out of two nights on the couch last time. Falling asleep in her bed hadn’t been intentional, and he’d apologized for it a week later when it wouldn’t stop eating at him, to which she awkwardly reassured him that it was no problem at all.
Last night, after the excitement of seeing her again drained all of his energy, he passed out on the couch before he could migrate anywhere else. He vaguely remembered seeing June in the kitchen in the middle of the night.
He dug out a fresh pair of clothes and jumped into the bathroom right before she could. The grin he gave her and the exasperated look he received back made it worth it.
Oregon was freezing. He had her scarf wrapped up to his nose-- he was thankful she simply chuckled at how cold he got instead of thinking further into it-- and his hands firmly shoved into his pockets. His jacket was absolutely not built for this, instead intended to be worn any and all seasons.
Beside him, June had on the rain coat she seemed to consistently wear, scarf wrapped loosely atop it. He’d learned that she wasn’t someone who cared much about her clothes or looking particularly nice, yet she somehow always managed to. She didn’t even realize it. If he kept looking at her, she was going to notice, and then it’d be awkward for a moment again.
“You should switch up your order. They have a lot of fun, sweet drinks.”
When he looked at her this time, it wasn’t embarrassing that she looked right back.
“How would you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” she dragged the syllable out, hands clasped in front of her. Her smile was so bright. “Do you like caramel?”
“Hm. What do you think?”
She rolled her eyes, pondering regardless.
“I think… Yes.”
He slumped dramatically, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, or whatever. I’ll get whatever caramel shit they have."
His chest felt warm again, knowing that she could guess something so mundane correctly. Not many people got to know about his massive sweet tooth; there were a lot of things he’d let June know about him that he didn’t tell others. It was too easy to be honest with her.
“Well, I want you to like it.”
“I’ll like anything caramel. You pick?”
Her smile was gentle, “Sure, I’ll pick. Thanks for coming out here, I know you hate the cold. I’ll pay, since I completely dragged us.”
“Stop offering to pay for everything,” he sidestepped to bump their shoulders. “It’s not that bad.”
“You look freezing,” she said with a smile that was cute and mocking all at the same time.
“I’m the warmest I’ve been in my entire-”
He walked right into someone, having been staring at June for entirely too long. He was lucky it wasn’t a pole. That would’ve been less embarrassing, actually. He heard her snicker.
“Shit, sorry, man.”
He straightened, pulling away from the unfortunate stranger. That was awkward.
“Oh, no worries. Have a good day!”
If Dylan was still in the Digital Circus, if he was still Jax, the camera would have zoomed in on his face as his stupid black pupils shrank into pinpricks. He saw a thousand memories that he’d been reliving in his sleep all in an instant as if he’d just pulled off that godforsaken headset.
That voice.
It was like when he found Pomni’s livestream. It all came rushing back. He knew that voice. He knew it. It was like the frog he’d seen on the windowsill and the dreams he hid from Pomni. It was a mass of darkness rising above him when he’d been a little bit too annoying, his friend disappearing in the blink of an eye because the Digital Circus was real and people abstracting hurt.
What were the fucking odds of that, anyway? Why would Ribbit be here? Dylan was in Portland, a place he’d never been in his life. Why in the world would the two people he clicked with best be from the same place? What type of cruel joke was that?
He couldn’t breathe. There was black goop in his lungs. There was black static on his body and he was going to die just like everyone else would. He’d be forgotten, because he really hadn’t amounted to anything in his life, hadn’t even told Pomni his problems for god's sake. Instead he’d just lashed out like he always did, a neurotic toy, too tall and flippant and serious all at the same time.
Ribbit was there. Ribbit didn't remember him. Pomni was the one who asked Caine that question: everyone who abstracted lost their memories. God, it would have been nice if he abstracted. He wouldn't have to live like this in that case. Why not him? Why-
There were hands on his shoulders. His calves burnt. He was going to choke on the black goop that they all threw up for some ridiculous reason. He once threw up at the sight of his purple reflection, only after he realized it was permanent. He had five fingers.
There were words, but Ribbit abstracted, and he was stuck in the Digital Circus forever. Ribbit didn’t remember him. No one who abstracted would ever remember him. All those days, all those talks, they were just… gone. They only ever happened because they got trapped in the first place. How fucked up was that? Why the hell was Ribbit in fucking Portland? Was he crazy, had he made them up in his head?
“Jax?” Pomni said, her jester face right in front of his. She wasn’t supposed to be that close. She didn’t like physical touch.
Jax. That wasn’t his name. He knew that wasn’t his name. Oh my god, did he forget his name again?
“Yeah, hey, Jax, there. Dylan? Dylan. What just happened? Um, breathe.”
Pomni wasn't Pomni-- she was June. Her bangs were in her eyes and she’d been complaining about it all week. Her cheeks were pink from the cold air and her eyes were as big as a jester’s, concern clear and aimed at him.
Ribbit was here. Ribbit was gone. His eyes were burning.
“I’m here, it’s okay,” she smiled, but it looked worried.
“Sorry,” he thought he heard his own voice crack.
“You’re fine,” she whispered in her Pomni-way.
Then, there were arms around him, arms grounding him back to Earth. They were out of the Circus. He was in Portland. For some reason, so was Ribbit. He felt his own fast labored breaths and the rain jacket wrapping around his waist. June’s soft hair tickled his cheek, her chin digging into his shoulder.
Fuck, this was so embarrassing. Not again. This was the second time he’d done this to her, basically. He squeezed his eyes shut and wanted to throw up when he felt moisture.
Ribbit would never be his friend again.
He opened his mouth to make a joke, maybe to apologize, but nothing came out over the deafening crash in his ears. He held onto the arms around his waist and tried to focus on getting the fuck up. Why was he crouching? Why would he do that?
He was breathing. He wasn't in the Circus. It was fine. It didn't matter. None of it was real, anyways.
“You… okay?”
It wasn’t like this never happened in his normal life. Not much, no, but the Circus didn’t suddenly make Dylan prone to panic attacks. He really didn’t need June to see that-- to have to deal with it. He hadn’t even thought about the possibility. It reminded him too much of their fight in the Circus, the fight that still made his stomach twist into knots.
His fight with Ribbit that made his stomach twist into knots.
God. Fuck. He stood abruptly, taking June with him. She pulled away from the hug but held a hand on his shoulder, as if the contact would magically help him be fine. It wasn’t… not helping. The human version of Ribbit that wasn’t a walking frog was down the street, probably having judged him for the freakout-- no, no, they weren’t like that. They’d probably been concerned, even if they wouldn’t help a stranger. They had absolutely no memory of Jax.
“Who… was that?” June asked hesitantly, eyes on him like they couldn’t be anywhere else in the world.
They were just trying to get her coffee. He wanted to get her coffee. He’d been concocting a plan to swipe his card before she could get to it, but this cemented it. The coffee would make her happy, and making her happy had quickly skyrocketed to one of his biggest daily goals. When did that happen?
Ribbit’s very human face and very real eyes flashed in his mind. His head hurt and his lungs still felt short, but the world was focused again.
“Eh, no one important,” he tried to plaster a smile on his face, simply wanting to get her coffee.
A quick glance at June showed him how the softness fell off of her face, her lips pulling in a frown and her eyebrows pulling together. That wasn’t just concern. He’d seen that look before; he didn’t want to think about it.
“Oh, come on,” her voice was still soft, patient in a way he didn't deserve. “We can go back and make hot chocolate, or something. It’s cold out here.”
“What? No, let’s get you your coffee, Pom Pom.”
Her frown dipped further. It felt like they were speaking different languages. He stepped away from the hand on his shoulder, her eyes widening.
“You’re obviously not okay,” she said carefully. “I don’t care enough about the stupid coffee. I… don’t just brush over this. That’s not healthy.”
She wanted her coffee. The last thing he wanted to do was keep that from her. He’d have to be a real prick to keep her from something that she’d been smiling about just a few minutes ago.
“I’m fine,” he stretched out the word as if it’d make her believe him. “Seriously! It was just a little bump in the road. You want your-”
“Don’t do this,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly as cold as the air.
That, too, he’d heard before. He tended to bring that type of emotion out of people. It hurt more when he could see her real, human face. Her eyes were searching him for something she wouldn’t find, but her lips were pursed, all of the previous happiness absent. That was his fault.
“I don’t care about my coffee more than your feelings, and you’re obviously not okay,” she remained two feet away from him, arms stiff at her sides.
The world was getting a little fuzzy again. His heart was pounding. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn't want to think about it. Ragatha knew. Ragatha… was somewhere across the country. Why couldn’t they have stumbled upon her, instead? Why couldn’t this stay in its box? He didn’t like to open boxes.
He couldn’t hide behind the defense of none of them being real anymore. This was all crisp, even as the edges of his vision blurred, his focus going out again. He wondered what he looked like to her. It wasn’t so easy to switch off the emotions, not when everything was real.
He already knew he was going to regret his next words.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
The concern on June’s face seemed to fall away. She was frowning, now. Shit. Fuck. He wanted to say something to amend it, but that would require talking about things, and he didn't want to do that. He liked talking to her. But, this…
“If you’re going to be so insistent on making yourself miserable, then walk there if you want. I’m heading back.”
She watched him, hands fidgeting at her sides, and turned back the way they’d been walking.
He’d upset her. The hands that were on his shoulders moments ago had been retracted, June safe inside of her personal bubble of space that she liked so much. That hadn’t existed this morning. His heart caught in his throat, the need to amend colliding with the need to keep his emotions locked tight. Last time, he was the one to walk away.
She was upset. He’d done that.
“I didn’t mean that,” the words fell out of his mouth like black goop. “I’m sorry.”
She paused, rain jacket stiff as she turned around. Her eyes weren’t wide, she didn’t look surprised. He didn’t know how to take that.
“I know that,” she said, and if it were any other circumstance, she’d have been teasing. “But… Thank you. I just- there’s nothing you need to be cagey about with me. I know it’s a you problem, not mine, but you could just… there’s nicer ways to deflect. Let’s just go home.”
Something he’d learned was that June was really, really good at handling emotional situations. She had it all so sorted in her head in a way Dylan couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He followed after her, her hands all to herself and his shoved in his pocket. Guilt poured into him like freezing cold water.
He could deflect nicer. Or, he could just… talk to her. The idea was terrifying. It was so scary that he decided to hate Ragatha for it, after she’d been there for it all. He made her the ‘cheerful’ character in his head all because she tried to cheer him up— he didn’t need cheering up, he’d said. It wasn’t real, he’d said. That all seemed so unimportant now, considering that it happened in the earliest portion of a five minute span. The Circus as a whole was traumatic, sure, but Dylan had tried his best to write off the specific events. It was all simply a byproduct of the situation.
It had been so, so real. His brain wasn’t listening to his very sound logic.
June was frowning to herself, an unknown train of thought going through her head. It wouldn’t be fair for Dylan to ask to hear, not when he kept his feelings such a secret. It would be cruel to stare at her when he’d just been an asshole-- again.
Shit. Yeah. Okay, he thought to himself, trying to refocus on the world. He kind of owed her an explanation after that. He liked to think he wasn’t as much of a jackass in the real world as he was in the Circus, even if he still wasn’t a very emotional guy, but he’d really just disproved that whole idea. June didn’t deserve that, just like she didn’t deserve to be subjected to his freakout in the Circus.
As if it couldn’t get any worse, he still had her scarf over his face, breathing in the smell of her perfume with every step. He couldn’t bring himself to push it away; selfish.
He looked at her no matter how much he shouldn’t have, her cheek indented as her teeth dug into it. He wanted to go back to joking, back to five minutes ago.
He was really going to need to talk about it.
The tape on the mental box he’d created came off. If he let it loose in the Circus, he’d have been no better than all of the others who abstracted, the feelings turning him into a violent black blob of painful static. Ragatha’s nagging only made him shut the box tighter, her need to talk about things a recipe for disaster considering his lack of ability to do such a thing.
There was no risk of abstraction anymore, not in the real world. The risk felt much greater; he didn't want to hurt June.
They didn’t speak a word until she was unlocking the door to her apartment. She didn’t tell him to leave, simply shedding her winter layers without looking at him. Last time they fought, it was much easier to walk away, to keep her from following. They were kind of squished together, now. If they weren’t, there was a decent chance he’d have fucked this up forever.
He held her scarf in her hands, the plaid pattern that should have been embarrassing for him to wear reminding him so viscerally of the person in front of him. If he squinted, the faded red and blue was almost like a jester’s costume. He almost smiled.
With a deep, nervous breath, he decided to be the one to break the silence.
“Do you like hot chocolate? I’ll make it. I… uh, I have a special recipe.”
June stared at him, her sympathy visibly wearing thin. She still cared, he could see it, but he was a hard person to care about.
“And then I’ll… talk. Promise?”
He scratched his head, hair tangling around his finger. Her eyes widened slowly, as if she expected him to leave her apartment and never come back, instead.
“You wouldn’t have done that in the Circus,” she said, thinking aloud, observing all the ways he might be better or worse.
Just like he didn’t like his feelings on display as Jax, Dylan had learned in his life to hold everything close to his chest. He was on his own by the time he was eighteen, and no matter how many deep talks his coworkers of five years liked to have, there were certain things no one needed to know about him. It felt like a vulnerability; everything was something that could be used against him. It was why Ragatha’s blind comfort, following him around everywhere he went, gave him such a visceral urge to self detonate.
“We’re not in the Circus,” he thought that maybe both of them needed the reminder. “Do you want the hot chocolate?”
A small smile crossed her face. She looked at the scarf in his hands. She was still keeping her distance, not quite fearful but certainly guarded, but it felt like it was getting better. He wanted to make this better; he wanted to make her feel better.
“Sure,” she breathed out.
He was left to find the ingredients in her kitchen, unwilling to ask even with her on the other side of the room. She’d balled up on the couch, looking at her phone and the window intermittently. It took him longer than it should have, but he managed to perfect the hot chocolate that his mom made as a kid, before she decided being a parent was too much work. It was one of those things that stuck with him. People always liked it.
One of the mugs had June’s college logo and the other was covered in multicolored cats. He decided to give her the cat one. She took it with gentle, strong hands, blowing on it softly. His chest hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he said the moment he hit the couch. He was on the other side from her. “I tend to… be an asshole. Not an excuse, but, you know.”
“Really?” She asked sarcastically.
He chuckled. He deserved that. He remembered their fight in the Circus well, the way they never really made up after that. She tried to talk to him, he ignored it, and then she found Caine with a photo of the room she put on the headset from. Everything spiraled out from there, until she was asking a question that felt like it was for his benefit and smiled at him like nothing had ever happened.
He should’ve apologized then, too. Getting out of the Circus changed everything. It made finding her a relief, which made talking to her easier. The good things meant the world to him while he pretended the bad things hadn’t happened-- it was only five minutes, after all.
It wasn’t, though. He finally got himself to admit it. Just because it was insignificant in this world didn't mean their brains didn’t go through months and years of stimulation. It meant that what happened there still affected him, because he still liked June a whole lot, and Ribbit not remembering him even a little bit made him freak out on her in a way he was hoping he never did.
“Yeah. Um, well, Fuck,” he stared into the hot chocolate, trying to organize the thoughts. He hadn’t thought this through; it wasn’t too late to press the brakes. No. “Ragatha knew.”
The words felt like throwing up peanut butter.
“Was that..?” She asked quietly.
She wasn’t stupid. The signs were there, a big red ‘x’ on a door and a freakout from Dylan that he was sure she never pretended didn’t matter. She was too emotionally put together.
He slouched back, one hand going over his eyes. This was embarrassing. Emotional vulnerability was embarrassing, it always had been, and it always would. At least when they were on the phone, she couldn’t look at him, and he couldn’t see her reactions.
“Ribbit,” the name felt heavy. “They, uh… were a green frog. Ridiculous, right? They were there before me.”
He dared to move his hand, finding June’s eyes on him. He owed her the same respect. He straightened, careful not to spill his drink, and sat sideways on the couch to really face her.
“They were kinda friends with everyone. But, we clicked, you know how it is. I freaked when I realized it was all real, like anyone else, and they were there for me. Not in the suffocating way Ragatha tried to be. We were all… friends.”
“I kinda figured.”
He nodded, looking back at the hot chocolate. That didn’t feel as rude, and that was easier. This had to be a real, proper chat. He couldn’t fuck it up again.
“They abstracted, of course. I thought it was my fault for leaning into the whole ‘this isn’t real’ thing, but I’m not sure anymore. People get miserable before they abstract, so that could’ve been… It just, uh, wasn’t pretty. ‘Thought Rags blamed me. She didn’t, probably. She tried to comfort me after it all, but, you know how I was. I hate that shit.”
She smiled, nodding. She saw that part of him, that much was for sure. There were no doubts to be had.
“I don’t know why they’d be here. Pretty cruel of the world, or Caine and Abel, or whatever.”
“That’s so confusing. I get it. Even implying anything about them… set you off.”
There were multiple incidents of it, Dylan was sure, but he couldn’t remember all of them. Moreso, he remembered the dreams of all the happy times with Ribbit, those of which were completely clouded by how things ended. He hated those.
That would have been why she asked Caine what would happen to everyone who abstracted. She did it for him. He’d already suspected it, too afraid to confirm it, but she’d just confirmed that she knew some of the situation from context clues. She was too kind for her own good. It was one of the things that made her so god damn likable.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “That’s the dreams I’ve been having, too.”
She took a sip of her hot chocolate, humming to imply it was good. It loosened something in his chest. God, that was cute. He was glad she liked it, considering her much smaller sweet tooth was than his.
“Thank you for telling me. I’m honestly impressed. If you don’t wanna talk about something in the future, just… tell me. That’s all I ask. There’s no need to get all deflective with me.”
He nodded, committing the words to memory. He wasn’t good at communication, but if June asked for it, he could try his best. That was more than he’d ever been able to do for others. He really wanted to try for her.
“I will.”
“Thanks,” she smiled, one of her legs stretching out of the ball she’d made herself, moving closer to him. “This is actually really good. What did you do?”
“Yes,” he fist-pumped dramatically. “It’s a secret.”
She rolled her eyes, “I guess you’ll just have to keep making it for me, then.”
A smile crossed his face. The miniature panic attack outside had tired him out, along with the hefty process of conveying his feelings, but he had one more thing to say. She seemed satisfied, but he wasn’t.
“I’m also sorry for everything I said during that fight in the Circus. I would’ve… really cared, if you abstracted. I was completely lying.”
Her eyes widened, completely caught off guard by the unprompted apology. It was way past overdue. After a long, painful moment, she looked down at her drink again, her shoulders shaking with a laugh.
“I really appreciate that. You’re not as much of an asshole as you think.”
“Or so you think,” he joked, feeling safe enough to do so.
It felt like there was a weight off of his shoulders. Getting this whole debacle out was way past overdue, and he owed Ragatha an apology, too. It was even more incentive to find her. Their search wasn’t going well, but neither of them would give up. Maybe, some part of him, the one that had been new to the Circus and excited for a fun adventure that he could leave at the end of the day, missed her.
She scoffed, readjusting to lean her back on the couch. He wasn’t sure if she intentionally moved so much closer, but his feet hit her leg from where he’d pulled his long legs up onto the couch. It felt like a green light for physical contact again, like everything had mended.
Her hair was partially on his knee, leaning on the same pillow that her head was now on. It looked so soft. He really wanted to know how soft it was.
If it wasn’t okay, she’d just tell him, right?
After staring at her hair for way too long, he slowly lifted a hand and awkwardly twisted a chunk around his finger. June startled, eyes going to him in an instant. He froze, hand stuck with her hair wrapped between two fingers.
“Oh, you’re fine,” she rushed to say, looking back away from him; her cheeks were pink. “Real quick, grab me my laptop.”
He leaned forward and handed it to her, adjusting so that they were back in their spots from that morning. They had things they wanted to do, rather than simply lounge around, but it didn’t seem so bad for the moment. After a minute of further anxious debate, his hand ended up back in her hair. It was as soft as it looked. He knew that it smelled good, too.
She pulled up youtube, scrolling through her feed that he’d slowly grown accustomed to. They both liked watching gameplays, even though neither of them could handle playing games anymore. He missed it, but it reminded him too much of the Circus.
Eventually his legs ended up on the table, hers curled up to the opposite side of him. It knocked her off kilter, shoulder leaning closer to him rather than sitting straight up. His hand ended up on the other side of her head, combing through her short hair. He didn’t remember making that choice; it simply happened.
His eyes were closing by the time he felt a pressure on his shoulder, her hand knocking the computer so that they could both see it from the new angle. He hoped she couldn’t feel his heartbeat from there; now that would be something real to be embarrassed about.
“If I fall asleep now, I’m definitely not gonna sleep tonight,” she mumbled, voice sleepy.
His chest did those flip flops again. He needed that to stop.
“Do you think you’ll sleep tonight either way?”
“You never know,” she defended.
He couldn’t help but think about the last time he was here, completely accidentally falling asleep in her bed on the other side of the apartment. The laptop had been between them and they hadn’t stopped laughing for half of the night, until before he knew it his eyes were closing and June was quiet beside him. He never asked if she’d fallen asleep quickly, but he’d woken up to her passed out, arm thrown over his chest. It was almost like she’d been able to sleep a little better.
That was a crazy thought, wasn’t it?
“Wanna go anywhere, then?” He asked, leaning his head to look at her.
She hummed, not moving. He pulled out his phone with the arm not halfway under her and set an alarm for the next hour.
He fell asleep with his hand buried in her hair.