Chapter Text
Four weeks. Four, agonising, painful, torturous weeks since the argument. Oh, if only she had never spoken. Maybe things would have always ended like this. Maybe that was just how Jax really felt. It was unsurprising how much only a few sentences can mess someone up, she mused. One can only long for things to be better when they know how bad it can get.
As Pomni lay in her bed, swamped by thoughts very similar to the above, she wondered how long Jax really could avoid her. He’d been so distant; more than usual. Pomni knew she should stop paying attention to that stupid purple rabbit, but a small fraction of her heart still wistfully whispered hope for his remorse. But alas, remorse is an emotion, and Jax never showed those.
The last month had been so, so, so difficult. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised that Jax was avoiding her; she would do the same. But it still hurt. A month of combatting feelings, of hoping, of being dejected and crying oneself to sleep. Pomni could only yearn for time to rewind, to wish she hadn’t said whatever pushed him over the edge. She should have just pulled the trigger, or turned the gun on herself, or assumed Jax would forgive her. If only, if only.
Jax sat in the dark solitude of his room, a blanket of self-loathing nestled heavily over his sagging shoulders. A deep breath, a calming heartbeat, a shaky rise from the floor. He hardly left his room anymore; but he knew Pomni would be asleep by now. There was no way Jax would risk running into her. Not after what he did...
Why had he said that? Would he really remember her after there was a red X over her face? Before all she was a pillar of eyes and a faint memory that ached with regret? He shook himself, reminding himself of what happened when he got too attached to someone. Stop being so sentimental, he thought. She’s better off without me to drag her down.
He quietly padded down to the centre of the tent, looking for... honestly, he didn’t know what. Jax strolled out into the grounds, looking up at the stars. They seemed almost smug in the way they gazed back at him. “Tch. What’s the point...” His shoulders slumped, a rare moment of vulnerability as he turned back to the tent. But right there, clear as day, was the very jester he had been trying to avoid. She looked tired.
“Jax?” Pomni asked, her voice quiet and her gaze adverted. She couldn’t bare the sight of him. Not yet. Maybe following him was a bad idea...
“Pomni? What’re doing here?”
“I... couldn’t sleep.”
“Looks like that makes two of us.”
Oh, why did he have to look so sad. It was so much easier to hate him when he was a jerk. Not whatever this version of him was stood before her.
“Do-are we going to... talk? About what happened?”
He looked away. Silence.
“Why do you keep prying? Why can’t you just listen to what people want and leave them alone?” He finally asked. That answer was worse than silence.
“Because I know you didn’t mean what you said.” She responded. Jax had that look in his eyes again. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Well. You’re wrong. If you cared about me as little as I care about you, you’d be thanking me.”
“Thanking you? I still care about you!”
“Well, I don’t care about you. Whatever image of friendship you have of us in your head, throw that delusion away. We were never friends. I never cared about you. Get that through your thick little jester head.” Jax pushed past her, pretending not to notice the tears in her eyes. Hurting her was better than watching another friend abstract.
Back in his room, Jax curled up against a wall, pulling his knees close. Stupid rabbit. Hurting anyone who tried to get close. Footsteps, careful and muffled, padded past his room. Jax longed to tell Pomni he was sorry, that he didn’t mean it, that he wanted her as a friend. Tears, futile and hot, rolled down his cheeks.
Pomni sat on her bed, staring into the shadows, wishing for them to swallow her and never spit her out. Her eyes were tired and red. Maybe... maybe Jax was right. Maybe he is more trouble than he’s worth. Should she give up? Losing sleep wasn’t worth the pain it brought, surely. She pressed her face into a pillow, shoulders shaking from silent sobs. Mourning someone who you haven’t lost; who would mock your death. That’s a first.
As was their shared curse of caring for someone you wish you could hate.