Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The circus is quiet, too quiet during the “night”— all distorted, wrong in too many ways even for a place that shouldn’t exist but is there, standing impossibly still, like a computer turned off; maybe that’s what Caine does after he thinks everyone is fast asleep in their rooms, turns everything off to recharge. Didn’t he say something about AIs running for long periods of time? Maybe that’s why he’s always too cheerful in the “mornings”. Not that it matters, really. 

Pomni shuffles in her bed, hyper aware of the absolute, unnerving silence around her; they don’t need sleep, just like they don’t need food. The exhaustion is fake, just like hunger is fake, embroidered too deep into her code. It drags her down, and she couldn’t care less, and she refuses to let go of the little things, refuses to give up on that small piece of humanity. If she does, then she’ll end up like Jax.

…of course she’ll be thinking about him, of all people.

She groans on her pillow, muffling the sudden wave of anger not to break the silence; she can’t hate him, really. Sometimes she thinks about it, how easy it’d be to just let the frustration fester into something hurtful and ugly because he deserves it. She thinks about not being the bigger person for once and treating him equally as bad, to push him away because that’s what he wants anyway, he wants to be alone and miserable and f[%£*] isn’t it infuriating?

“In this world, the worst thing you can do is make someone think they’re not wanted or loved.”

Kinger’s words echo in her mind and another growl of frustration escapes her lips; she knows Kinger is right, of course he is, in all his wisdom masked and buried deep in insanity. Zooble already does that well to Jax, not even shying away from stating how much they hate the bunny. Gangle doesn’t say it out loud, but there’s no doubt in Pomni’s mind that she feels the same. Ragatha did say it, in her stupid sauce stupor. That only left Kinger, not the pinnacle of coherent thoughts most of the time, and Pomni.

So why does Jax keep trying to push her away?

F[$*€]. With an annoyed huff she gets up, sleep nothing more than a distant, forgotten thought, and kicks a letter cube out of the way; it makes no sound as it bounces around but the jester ignores the wrongness of it all, barely registering her own movements as she yanks her door open to stare at the stupid bunny sticker plastered on the opposite closed door. The light flickering on the corridor is soft enough for her to barely see the colors but she doesn’t need to.

Oh how badly she wants to break down that door, drag that stupid bunny out of his bed and beat some sense into his brain— but she did try that already and it didn’t work. He’d just deflect, put his mask back on again and again and again when she gets too close, kicking her away when she starts climbing his walls. It’s infuriating, frustrating beyond belief.

“I’d move on.” His flat words hit her again, unprompted, the lie so obvious she could almost touch it. “And probably forget about you.”

F[&;)&]ng liar.

Her door closes quietly, her jester body pressed against the digital wood; she doesn’t cry, refuses to let tears flow but she can feel the burning sensation in the back of her eyes, the way her arms ache at gloved fingers digging impossibly deep as she sits on the cold floor to hug her knees. She doesn’t let go, pain a better anchor than her loose thoughts. It’s a fake pain in a fake world and she keeps it close, keeps it there because it’s the right thing to do, because she’s still human no matter what Jax tries to say.

For a moment, she wonders if he can’t sleep too.

It makes no sense, really, how Jax would also cling to the small things; he’s the first one to always complain about how hungry or sleepy he is, the first one to try to get satisfaction out of his own misdeeds. Still human, still flawed to the core, something no AI could ever fix. Then he turns around and says nothing matters because they’re nothing more than cartoon characters— Pomni groans, frustration quick to build up again. Does he really think so little of her? Does he think she wouldn’t notice?

It’s insulting at best.

She drags her hands away from her arms, takes a moment to just breathe. The darkness is soothing, the silence less oppressive now, not so unnatural; maybe it’s almost daytime and the circus and its inhabitants are turning on again, slowly but surely. She can hear the light flicking outside her door, the soft buzzing and cracking of a failing lamp steady enough for her to gather her thoughts, a new resolve slowly bubbling up within her, unnoticed at first but getting louder and louder. It’s pointless to dwell on what happened— Jax pushing away, hurtful words exchanged, the fight; he’s a white puzzle and she’s stuck between giving up or completing the whole thing without any help, while the pieces would run and hide from her right before she was about to finish a section.

It’s a good thing she always liked challenges.

And for better or worse, he’s stuck here as much as she is— stuck with her. If he wants to be an a[*€$@#]e, then let him be. Let him push her away again and again. It’ll take much more than that to break her resolve.

Chapter Text

The circus is often busier when Pomni finally leaves her room for the day, the other members all scattered out and about, having breakfast, trying to hide from Caine’s antics for as long as possible; it feels quite different today, the not-so-oppressive silence being comforting as she locks her door behind her and walks down the corridor into the main area. It’s early, earlier than anyone would wake up, and it feels refreshing not to be forced into a conversation right away, not after the whole Jax showdown.

An annoyed groan escapes her; it seems it’s becoming a noise she’ll make instinctively whenever her mind wanders to him and his f[&%*#]ng lies.

“GOOOOD MORNING MY LOVELY DAISY!!!”

Caine’s booming voice is more than enough to make Pomni let out an undignified noise and almost fall on her back, a forgotten vase on the way the only thing keeping her balance and she holds onto it as if her life depended on it, her heart beating almost comically against her chest to the point she really thought it’d come out as if she was in an old cartoon; the ringmaster laughs, either unaware or uncaring of the jester’s shock, cane pointed at Pomni’s face.

“IT’S ADVENTURE TIME! TODAY—”

“It’s too early for an adventure, Caine.” Pomni interjects before he could even finish, a gloved hand rubbing the last vestiges of the jumpscare out of her system. It is too early for any of Caine’s antics, and she can already feel the exhaustion clinging to her digital bones tighter than usual. “And honestly… I’ll be skipping today’s adventure.”

The silence that stretches for far too long is something she’s come to expect whenever someone would try to say anything about Caine’s adventures, and she doesn’t fail to notice the glitchy twitch on the AI’s mismatched eyes, the way he seemed to get stuck midair for a too long moment, the air around them growing dark and dangerous, getting too close, too suffocating, her breath getting stuck on her throat and her heart speeding up again— and then Caine’s uncanny, booming laughter echoes around the area, pushing the shadows away but the feelings remain for a second longer.

“NONSENSE!” He chimes a bit too loudly, floating too close to get right into Pomni’s face; trying too hard, he’s always trying too hard. “You love my adventures!”

“I mean…” Pomni sighs, her eyes darting around but everyone is still in their own rooms and she has no one to blame for this situation but herself; she wriggles her hands together, weighing her options for a second— it could be dangerous to p[&$!] Caine off, and she knows she’s already walking on a very thin ice lake. “Some of them are okay. But it’s not real fun when you have to fight for your life in every adventure.”

“Butbutbut—” Caine stammers, and she can almost see his code shuffling and reshuffling between his eyes, looking for an answer that would make her see reason but there’s none, and they both know that; sometimes she wonders if she should feel bad. It’s not his fault, really, when he’s as bound by endless lines of code just as she is. He’s not human, and he can’t really understand past his limits, he can’t grasp the complexity of human emotions and needs. “I can’t make appealing adventures with no stakes!! Everyone loves those!!”

“Not really?” She replies quietly, wondering if she really should be the one having that conversation this early in the morning; Ragatha is too nice, Gangle is too shy, Zooble has already talked to Caine. Kinger… she doubts that conversation would ever be about adventures. Jax… out of the question. “It kinda loses all the appeal when you keep repeating the same ideas. What I’m trying to say is… the stakes don’t need to be us fighting for our lives in every adventure. If I know I have to go through some life-risking task every single day, at some point I’ll just stop caring to try, y’know?”

The silence engulfs them again, not so suffocating this time; the ringmaster seems to be thinking about her words, his figure threatening to glitch every now and then but never going too far.

“What about some prizes instead? The gun fight…” And Pomni swallows back the sudden pressure on her throat, forces herself not to think about Jax, about his hurtful words, about his childish tantrum. “It was fun. Maybe the stakes could be us winning prizes, so we actually try. And if you ever run out of ideas, you could use the suggestion box. I know you don’t like it!” Her voice is steady when he turns to interrupt her, not giving Caine enough room for that just yet. She knows she’ll regret her words, but if she’s doomed to live in this circus forever at least her existence shouldn’t be dreading every morning. “You don’t need to use it word for word. Maybe get the theme and add your own twist so it’s your adventure!”

The ringmaster keeps staring at her, something about his whole demeanor alien and uncanny, unnerving in a way too different from what she came to expect in all the past… weeks? months? It doesn’t matter.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes.” She offers, her voice way gentler than what is usually is when dealing with Caine.

If only she could say that to Jax and make him understand that…

The jester suppresses the groan, looking around instead, her mind working faster than her body. There’s a clipboard and a pen glued to the wall under the new suggestion box and she moves fast, grabbing a piece of empty paper from the clipboard, scribbling the words quickly, unbothered by how different and not-hers the handwriting came out; how long has it been since she wrote something down? It doesn’t matter. She rips the paper out when she’s finally done, presses it tight on Caine’s free palm.

“Here, it should be easy for you to build a nice adventure around! Just… think about it? I’m sure everyone will have fun with this one. I can even drag Zooble into it before they can complain!”

That seems to do the trick and the weird, nameless energy clinging to Caine fades as if it were never there, his usual overenergetic self popping back into existence; he laughs again, strangely delighted, his eyes gleaming almost maliciously when scamming over the paper, and for a moment Pomni almost regrets even talking to him— but he’s gone in a bright cloud of multicolored confetti and a comically loud pop!, and she’s left alone with her thoughts once more.

Lovely daisy, huh?

She shakes her head as if it were enough to push the thoughts away; Ragatha’s voice rings close, Pomni’s attention immediately snapping to the doll, and maybe it’s time to get the day started. If they’re lucky, Caine will be too busy today to bother them with some adventure.

Chapter Text

There are a few things Pomni is absolutely sure of in this digital world. It’s not a big list and she doubts it’ll grow any bigger as time goes by, but it’s more than enough for her to navigate the fake reality around her. One of the very first things at the top of her imaginary list is simple: Jax would never apologize for what happened after the gun fight. His manic grin would just grow larger when they crossed paths, his pupils too dilated, his voice too soft— and she doubts anyone else noticed it, she doubts anyone cared as much about him to see between his masked lies.

It’s his fault, really. For pushing people away, for making them hate him.

“Pass me the pepper, Pompom.” There he is again, his chair too close to hers on the breakfast table, body almost towering over her, his voice sickeningly sweet for someone that, more often than not, is nothing but a stubborn piece of s[&%#].

She can see right through his act, what he’s trying to do; it makes her want to strangle some sense into his f[&*#%]d up brain. Her body betrays her before she can think too much, the pepper shaker connecting with too much brute force against his sprawled hand— and the jester barely contains the soft snicker that almost escaped her at his loud, pained yelp. Everyone is staring at them, she knows they are, Ragatha’s eyes almost burning the back of her jester hat but Pomni doesn’t move her gaze away from Jax, waiting. His expression changes quickly — painrageconfusionwhy — before settling back to his masked, amused self.

(It’s a small victory for her, to get any reaction out of him.)

“Oops. Sorry.” Pomni smiles too, and she notices his ear twitching ever so slightly, his smile too tight. “Didn’t see your hand there.”

And for a second he seems about to reply with something that’d either infuriate her or make her roll her eyes but the moment is lost, a twist of impossible colors and noises passing by her eyes, her body moving against her will and it takes a moment for the world to stop spinning and her stomach stop churning (it’s not real, but the feeling keeps coming back again and again whenever Caine does that).

“GOOOOD MORNING MY VIVID BUMBLEBEES!” Speaking of the devil, Caine’s voice sounds a note higher than usual, and Pomni can’t decide if he’s too happy or trying too hard to hide something ominous. She hopes for the best. “I’ve been considering your… criticisms very carefully! And today’s adventure will be something very special! A TREASURE HUNT!”

The comically giant letters appear behind the ringmaster as he floats nearby, his humor certainly more cheerful than the past days— and maybe, just maybe she can relax a bit, maybe Caine actually took her suggestion seriously. It’s never guaranteed, really, not with Caine, but at least he seems to be trying.

(So different from the stupid rabbit standing right by her side.)

“The gloinks!” Caine continues, his voice louder with barely contained excitement, his eyes darting wildly between his circus members. “They stole many treasures from the circus and it’s up to ALL OF YOU—” he makes a scene of pointing his cane at each one of them, taking a second more on Zooble. “to retrieve all our precious items! The team with more items retrieved will receive an AMAZING PRIZE!!! NOW GOOD LUCK!”

A portal opens to yet another chaotic, messy adventure and they barely have time to notice the change of scenery; the circus music melts away into an almost comforting silence, the soft noises of crickets the only thing echoing around the group. The sun is setting behind what seems to be an abandoned building with too many floors, a myriad of broken windows and peeled off, old paint decorating the whole thing. There are little movements behind the glass panes, probably all the gloinks quickly moving to hide whatever they stole now.

Pomni stands up with a groan, brushing away the digital dirt clinging to her new outfit, and she takes a moment to assess herself. The clothing is similar to the same suit she’d wear at the noir bar adventure, way more comfortable than her jester outfit. The hat is still there, of course, and she rolls her eyes in annoyance but there isn’t much she can do about it. She takes a look around, curiosity winning for a moment— and everyone seems to be sharing the same kind of clothes.

Gangle’s ribbons are now covered by a thick, detective-like coat, matching with Kinger, Zooble’s pieces trapped under parts of a white suit that almost resembles Pomni’s own jacket. Ragatha’s dress is gone, replaced by the same dark suit Jax was wearing; he’d already taken off the jacket, the piece hanging over his shoulder.

A panel full of flickering lights spawns right by the entrance, dangling above the double doors, and Pomni feels a soft groan escape her in annoyance. The teams were already formed, it seems, and she really doesn’t want to think about what was going through Caine’s code when he decided that randomizing them was the best plan of action here.

TEAMS:

Gangle & Kinger
Ragatha & Jax
Zooble & Pomni

“Great.” Jax’s voice is the first to break the silence, filled with something Pomni, for once, couldn’t really identify— and he’s moving away before she could even try, a now black glove wrapped tightly around Ragatha’s wrist and dragging her away and into the building despite her soft protests.

“Uh… good luck.” Gangle chirps (mostly at Zooble, really) before following Kinger closely, her usual tension seemingly non-existent with Jax out of sight.

Pomni sighs, taking a second to look at her new partner in crime— and it feels wrong, for some reason, to even consider Zooble like that, even for a second. It’s supposed to be Jax, and they should’ve been paired together again; why did Caine randomize it so badly? To p[&%*] her off? Or did he know what happened between them and decided to keep them separated? Not that it matters right now. Zooble is staring back, confusion shining on their good eye.

“Everything alright?”

“Oh yea. Sorry, I just…” The jester drags a hand on the back of her neck, unsure of what to say. They’re not really close, have never been really, and she wouldn’t blame Zooble for not wanting to spend time with her after the whole gun fight. “I don’t think I apologized. For shooting you the other day.”

“Nah, ‘s fine. You pulled some b[*&$%#@]t back there, but it wasn’t that terrible. We had some fun.” Zooble shrugs, but the confusion is quickly replaced by something Pomni couldn’t name right away. “So… wanna check if the elevator’s working? We can start from top down.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

“What’s up between you and Jax, anyway?”

Zooble’s question is too casual, their gaze locked on an old closet in search for whatever the gloinks had hidden away— it still makes Pomni freeze on her spot, hands trembling softly around the rubik cube she’d just found under a chair. Zooble isn’t stupid, really, and they probably noticed her too long silence before the jester could even think of a good excuse, but the sigh they let out is an almost tired one.

“Honestly? You deserve each other, for all I care. Everyone could see it the other day.”

And for once Pomni is so, so glad she’s not staring at Zooble right now; the burning sensation suddenly going up her neck and cheeks couldn’t be normal, and she fights it back with all her might, laughing it off quickly, too quickly— she can almost feel Zooble rolling their eyes, and the coloring book they’d just found hits Pomni right in the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“Sorry. Was aiming somewhere else.” Zooble sighs, moving closer to pick up the book before Pomni could, maybe just a bad excuse to get closer, their shared basket almost full to the brim of collected items but it still has enough space for the book and the cube. “I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life here, Pomni. I know what you’re trying to do, and all I’ll say is: he’s not a good person. He’s hurt everyone and he’ll keep doing that, because he’s a selfish a[&$%*@]e.”

Pomni looks away, not in embarrassment this time. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that everyone else thinks exactly the same thing about Jax. To the very core, no one really cares to look at him behind the prankster’s mask and honestly? She can’t blame them, not when he tries so, so f[&*#$(]g hard to push them away and burn every bridge he crosses. Stupid rabbit.

“I’ve handled worse.” That’s all she says. Zooble just laughs.

“Y’know I’m not falling for that ‘I can fix him’ b[*&$%#]t, but whatever.” They adjust the basket on one of their arms, clicking it safely into place so nothing could knock it off their grasp. “Just… take care of yourself, alright? I’ll be around if you need to talk. Or if you need help to kick his a[%#].”

Pomni laughs softly, but the weird tension on her shoulders seems to loosen up, even if only a tiny bit. The rest of the adventure falls into a quiet, comfortable pace— the conversation moves on, away from Jax and whatever is wrong with him, away from the insanity of their new reality and into casual chattering, recountings of places they’ve explored before the circus, about bits and pieces of what they could remember from their past lives. The gloinks are easily found and shooed away, items quickly retrieved from the floors they wandered into.

It’s different, almost alien, really; less chaotic, more tame, just like Zooble’s suggested adventure. No running away from unspeakable horrors, no fighting for their lives. It felt… really nice.

(Pomni refuses to think about how much better the whole experience would’ve been if Jax had been her partner again.)

They cross paths on the fifth floor.

Zooble had lagged behind the sixth floor, and it totally was not related to Gangle and Kinger stuck in a room full of gloinks bullying them; they insisted Pomni kept going and so she did, walking down the emergency stairs slowly, not really ready to trust whatever Caine built— but what she wasn’t expecting was to find Jax just laying there between the floors, body sprawled over the stairs, eyes lost in the low ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing in the whole world. Pomni almost steps on him, noticing his soft movements right at the last second.

“Jax?”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at her. He’s not even smiling now, exhaustion clinging to his tall body as if another layer of clothing. Pomni shifts uncomfortably on her feet, weighening her options even though she knows what exactly she’s going to do— she could keep walking, pretend she didn’t care, pretend she hasn’t seen him nor how miserable he looked, or she could sit down and maybe, just maybe coach him into finishing the adventure. Whatever it takes to drag him out of that unnerving apathy.

It’s not a difficult decision, really.

She sits down near his head, close enough to touch him if she wanted but she doesn’t, not right away, not even looking at him for a moment; she wonders where Ragatha is, if she’s trying to find the items all by herself while Jax sulks away in the dim light.

She doesn’t need to ask if everything is alright.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” Pomni offers instead. No answer. Her hand rests on his head, between his ears, and she can swear there’s a soft twitch at her touch, but Jax keeps looking away, keeps staring into nothingness. “Alright. Is this okay?”

He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t move away from her hand either.
She takes that as another of her small victories.

“This… is nice.” She says, just to fill the silence with anything but their breaths and the constant buzzing of electricity above their heads. “The adventure, I mean. Kinda reminds me of when I tried to explore this really old building. I didn’t know it was condemned so I snuck in. There was this broken window on the second floor. I climbed the emergency stairs and got in, but when I tried to leave the room, the floor just… gave out and I fell all the way down to the first floor.”

She remembers the pain all over her body, how terrified she was of being stuck in a place no one would ever find her because she never told her roommate (she had a roommate, right? she can’t remember their face, or their name, and she moves her thoughts away quickly before she could spiral on the lost pieces of her memory) about where she was going that night; the camera kept recording, she vaguely remembers. She doesn’t remember if she deleted the footage later. She probably did.

Jax doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are on her now, that weird feeling she couldn’t quite name yet written all over his purple face but at least he seems a little bit interested in what Pomni is saying— she doesn’t even notice her fingers moving slowly on his head, petting his fur gently. His ears twitch, but he keeps quiet.

“I was very lucky, tho!” The jester continues, laughing softly at her own demise back then; it feels weirdly funny now. “I fell on this… couch? Or maybe it was a bed, I don’t really remember. I didn’t get hurt, but I definitely broke that thing when I fell.”

And for the first time Jax lets out a noise, a soft laughter that he doesn’t even try to conceal, and Pomni feels weirdly proud of herself. His smile, as cynical and fake as it is, is back on his face, and he pushes his body up, away from her hand, pretending to stretch comically for a moment before adjusting himself on the step to stare at her, back pressed against the cold metal of the handrail. His energy isn’t quite right just yet, but god does it feel much better than the nothingness he’s been drowning in until now.

“First the floor, then a whole bed? Didn’t think you could go around breaking stuff like that, short stuff.” And she can swear there’s some other meaning to his words, the way his eyes scan over her entire body for a moment, but she doesn’t care enough to even try to find out what the f[*@#] he’s implying now. “So, how’s dealing with Zooble?”

“It’s okay.” Pomni shrugs, the hand she’s been petting (don’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutit) Jax’s head now resting on her knee. “Not as fun as when we…” and she looks away, words dying quickly in her mouth because it’s not worth it to bring back the whole thing. “They’re not bad. We got a lot of items back already. What about you?”

“Nah.” Jax is looking away when her attention is focusing on him once more, and it’s hard not to notice his leg bouncing anxiously, foot tapping against the metal step softly. “Dollface is out there looking for stuff, I guess. Ditched her on the second floor or something. This is boooring.” And he drags out the word to try to add something akin to comedy, but there’s something else he’s not talking about.

And Pomni wants to ask more, she wants to push his button to find his limits, to figure out what makes him tick, to understand how his stupid rabbit brain works— but the door on the lower floor opens with a loud thud, Ragatha’s worried voice echoing through the whole stairs; she barely notices when they both sigh at the intermission but she can’t miss the moment his mask falls back into place when he stands up.

“See ya later, Poms.”

She shoots from the floor too quickly, holding his wrist too tightly before Jax could be out of reach, and for a moment their eyes meet; no one else would notice the difference, no one would care enough to look. A bed of his own making, really, but she wishes she could do anything to help, because she cares, no matter what he says. Stupid bunny. His smile falters under her scrutiny and he shakes his arm free, walking away a bit too quickly for someone that loves to claim not to care about anyone or anything.

And it finally dawns on her, her brain finally allows her to remember the word she’s been looking for whenever he does that; it makes her sick, makes her skin crawl.

Hopelessness.

She hates it.

Chapter Text

In the end, the treasure hunt had been… pretty fun, at least for Pomni. No monsters waiting in the shadows to jump on them, no Gloink Queen hiding and ready to swallow them whole when they got too close. There had been some running after gloinks all over the building, the little things quick to steal stuff the teams had already retrieved but eventually, all the rogue creatures had been safely chased out of the building and back into the circus, every missing item found and accounted for— if the panel shining outside was as accurate as it should be.

Zooble and Pomni had found most of them, their little avatars in the panel now portraying tiny, golden crowns. Gangle and Kinger were only 10 items behind, and it was safe to assume if not for the whole “getting stuck in a room with gloinks” situation, they’d have snatched the win this time. Jax and Ragatha had barely found anything, to no one’s surprise, and Pomni didn’t miss the obvious flash of disappointment crossing the doll’s face for a second.

Jax, on the other hand, didn’t even bother to look at the score. He’s the first one to walk out of the building and into the portal too fast, leaving them all behind without a word.

(Zooble stares at Pomni for a too long second, but says nothing. Thank f%&#.)

“CONGRATULATIONS MY FRIZZLED EXPLORERS!!” Caine’s words are always something else whenever they return to the circus, and Pomni, for once, couldn’t help but chuckle at today’s choice. “I see ALL the treasures have been found!! And our winners are Zooble and Pomni!!”

Confetti spawns out of nowhere, showering the duo with too many multicolored tiny papers, a huge, too big cake with too many layers dangerously sitting on a table popped into existence, right by Zooble’s side, one of the baskets they’d used to collect items placed on the floor, a childish-like “PRIZE” banner resting atop the pile. It’s either a miracle or some kind of weird coding keeping the cake from tumbling over, keeping the items not spilling on the floor— not that Pomni has too much time to really think about it, Caine’s voice claiming her attention easily.

“I hope today’s adventure has been productive!”

He stares at them with a glint of hopeful expectation shining on his eyes, hard to miss and even harder to ignore. On any other day, the statement would be met with either an uncomfortable silence or someone trying to sound not as exhausted or traumatized as they really were after an adventure. Instead, everyone offers a quick appraisal at the change of pace, happy to share how much they’d love more chill adventures like that.

(Everyone but Jax; he’d disappeared the moment they stepped through the portal, and Pomni makes a quick mental note to look around for him before going to bed.)

Caine bursts out laughing, a small notebook suddenly in his hands as he writes (or pretends to) something down, and is then gone with a loud pop!, more confetti falling around the group, but it’s easy to notice his renewed energy still close by, the circus music a bit more louder and cheerful than the usual, the colors around the place less faded.

No one talks about it, of course.

Instead they move tables and chairs around the insanely tall cake, making themselves comfortable, Bubble quickly zapping around with plates and cups, babbling away about whatever was on his mind at the moment before disappearing into the corridors, leaving them alone to enjoy the prizes. And the cake is, to everyone’s surprise, very good, and Pomni is quick to set a plate aside when her friends aren’t paying attention, too interested in digging through the basket in search of something they liked to notice her. Zooble had suggested they share all the stuff and Pomni agreed, of course.

Gangle is quick to grab pencils and a little sketchbook, already putting them to use while the others work, her plate of cake quickly forgotten. Ragatha finds a complete tea set with Pomni’s help, its colors matching her dress, little red flowers painted on each of the pieces. Kinger is content with another pillow (how did it even fit in that basket??) to add to his fort. Zooble just says they’ll keep whatever the others didn’t care to grab, seemingly more interested in chatting to Gangle and watching her draw. Pomni finds a polaroid camera buried deep under too many toys, its original color all faded— she doesn’t think too much about it, snapping a picture of her friends while they were distracted with their new belongings; and the camera still works, the photo of her new family being printed at a speed that’s completely unrealistic but she couldn’t care at all.

(Zooble catches her setting a slingshot aside, their eyes judging probably each one of Pomni's life decisions, but still says nothing about it. Pomni makes a mental note to thank them later.)

The peaceful atmosphere is… nice.
Maybe, just maybe, they could have more days like that.

And just as she's about to move away from the remaining items, Pomni's eyes fall on a keychain shining at the bottom of the basket, almost as buried as the camera had been, almost too easy to miss if not for the cute black bunny attached to it. She grabs it quickly before anyone could notice— but the happy moment, so fleeting and rare, is more than enough distraction; Zooble's attention is once more on Gangle, Ragatha and Kinger chatting away about the kinds of tea they liked, and Pomni can’t help but smile softly, gathering her things carefully. The keychain fits perfectly under her new camera, the slingshot tucked under her arm, and it’s easy to balance the items and a place full of cake in her hands, slipping away from her seat quietly, making her way through the circus back to her room. No one notices or calls her out. 

The door across hers is closed, of course. She stares at it for only a moment, sneaking into her own room with ease. The camera is set on her desk, the bunny keychain attached to her key. She doesn’t think about how extra cute it’d be if it was purple. The plate of cake feels a bit too heavy when she crosses the corridor, her knocking a bit more aggressive than usual but she couldn’t care less. Still, no answer, no movement inside.

Maybe Jax is just sleeping.
(He did look exhausted, after all.)

She ignores the little voice in the back of her head telling her to try to open the door. She’s better than this, better than him. Instead she drags the small table near her door to his, sets the plate down so he wouldn’t step on it whenever he came out of his room. The slingshot is set carefully near it, and she knows, she just knows she'll be regretting even grabbing it in the first place very, very soon— but she couldn't not get him anything, not when everyone had a chance to get something they liked.

“I brought you some stuff. The cake is pretty good, you should try it.”

Her voice is quiet, gloved hands wrapped around her arms but she doesn’t move away just yet; should she apologize? For the fight, for everything said and done that day, even if he was the one causing the most damage? Would it make anything better? Pomni doubts it, and maybe it’d feel wrong to him, as hollow and fake as the sky outside the tent and everything else around them. F*$#, why did things need to be so complicated?

(Why couldn’t he just stop being an a$%&@#e and talk to her?)

“Maybe we’ll be partners on the next adventure.” She says instead, suddenly as exhausted as Jax had been looking since their meeting. This is better. Safer. “I’d like that.”

Both the cake and the slingshot are gone the next time she leaves her room.
She keeps getting those small victories.

Chapter Text

It’s easy to make a habit out of leaving her room earlier than everyone else, sleep either fleeting or non-existent these days— Jax is the worst kind of surprise box, and she can’t never figure out when he’ll either avoid her, torment her with humorless pranks or just wake up decided to bully her into insanity. Pomni isn’t sure what his objective really is here, the randomness of his actions always keeping her on her toes, but unfortunately for him, he’s decided to pick a target that didn’t really back down as easily as Gangle or Ragatha.

She knows it’s hardly productive to play by his rules, to match his uncalled violence with the same energy but it’s Jax, and talking doesn’t work because he refuses to even spare her more than two sentences (when she’s lucky), and she’s getting real tired real fast of his b*&%@#!t.

She bites his arm hard when he tries to get her stuck atop the fridge.
He throws her across the kitchen as if she’s nothing but a ragdoll.

Bubble kicks them both out with no more than a simple threat of summoning Caine to deal with them and she runs faster than ever, Jax following close until they go to different directions, not a word of apology spared by any of them. He doesn’t leave his room for the entire day, and she sticks by Zooble and Gangle until bedtime. Ragatha joins at some point, but it’s clear she’s not comfortable, and she leaves shortly after to hang with Kinger, tea set in hands.

(It’s better this way. Pomni doesn’t think she can really talk to the doll right now, not today.)

Gangle is the first to leave the communal room when the night falls, Moon hanging high over the tent and probably looking everywhere for Caine; she waves them a goodnight, disappearing quickly into the corridors. Pomni doesn’t move yet, eyes glued on the TV but not paying attention— it’s some really bad parody of a child’s cartoon and she’d tuned it out ages ago, voices muffled and distorted. Zooble seems too relaxed to really get up yet, and their eyes fall on the jester for a too long moment.

“So… how’s it going with bunny boy?”

Oh. It’s a good question, really. One she has no answer to, because what’s there to say? That he’s insufferable and trying to drive her insane, trying his best to make her hate every second he’s around her, breathing the same air? She’s too stubborn for that, already decided to deal with his b&@#%*t one way or another. It’s just… too much sometimes. Jax is too much.

“I wish he’d just… talk to me.”

“You and everyone else, girl.” Zooble snorts humorlessly, but the sigh they let out is heavy with an unspoken concern. “I’m surprised you haven’t given up on his loser a$# yet. It’s been what, two weeks? Since the gun adventure. Everyone can see how badly he’s targeting you now. It’s a good thing that he’s leaving Gangle alone when he’s like this… no offense.”

“None taken.” Pomni shrugs, and it’s true. Gangle had been looking happier than ever, her comedy mask rarely breaking now, and she’s glad Jax decided to leave the poor girl alone and aim at the jester instead.

Zooble doesn’t respond right away, as if trying to find the right words to keep the conversation flowing. And it’s easy to appreciate their attempts, the veiled concern. It’s so, so much better than Ragatha trying to baby everyone. She adores the doll and her softness, and Zooble is rough around the edges more often than not, but Pomni would take that over hollow sweetness every other day.

(It always feels more sincere.)

“I stand by what I said before, Pomni. I won’t tell you what to do with your life here.” Zooble says at last, their claw-hand clicking ever so softly as they rack their brain in search of a good way to say whatever they want to. “But if you want my opinion… it’s not worth it.”

He’s not worth it goes unspoken.
Pomni can still hear it clear as day.

“GOOOOOD MORNING MY SHINING LILYPADS!!”

Caine’s booming voice is a good alarm for sure, and Pomni barely holds back a yawn, the few hours of sleep not nearly enough to erase the dreadful exhaustion clinging to her avatar. She’d been dragged out of bed and into the hall by a snap of fingers and for once she wishes the ringmaster would let her skip his adventures— but he looks way too excited, almost vibrating and that’s more than enough to wake her up.

The past adventures had been a weird mix of his own dreadful constructs and some of their own suggestions completely remodeled by him, not quite right but enough to give them some sense of normality.

Jax gets too close, rests his elbow atop of her hat, making the little bells jingle almost comically if she weren’t having a bad time already; she needs a too long moment to take a deep breath. It’s too early to be snapping at her friends, too early to let herself be bothered by Jax’s antics, and she just groans in response, dreading the next few hours because if he’s getting this close it means he’s in a prankster mood and she’s not in the right mind to deal with it, to deal with him, not this early in the morning.

(She doesn’t push him away yet.)

“TODAY’S ADVENTURE IS…. THE AMAZING CIRCUS!” The glowing letters appear on the red curtain, blinking and flickering into too many colors, and Caine seems a bit too proud of himself for that. Oh wait, she’s written that suggestion, hasn’t she? Or something similar to that idea, she’s almost sure. It might be fun, might be enough to help with her mood. “All of you will be part of this amazing traveling circus going from town to town making people happy, and you just arrived at the great city of Nowhereland!! Your goal is to make the BEST PRESENTATION EVER!!! Work together to please everyone of your customers and you all will receive a GREAT PRIZE!!!”

And they’re stumbling through a portal before anyone could question anything, the digital tent above their heads melting into something less colorful, lights dimmed. It’s still a circus alright, but all the weirdness of a chaotic AI running the place is missing, leaving only props and decorations a real traveling circus would have. She’s been placed in a tent full of hoops and ropes, little trinkets and items all over the floor, a full body mirror right nearby, and Pomni wastes no time in approaching it, taking a good look at herself.

Her normal clothes had been completely replaced by a multicolored, sparkly leotard, full of red, blue, purple and yellow diamonds, the black silk clinging comfortably to her body. The hat is nowhere to be found (finally!!) and she stares at her hair for the first time since she joined the circus. It’s short, barely reaching her shoulders, and the jester can’t help but touch it tentatively, her usual gloves gone as well— it feels natural now to have less fingers than a human hand, and she twirls a lock of brown hair between them.

(And for the first time since waking up in this nightmare place, she feels good about herself.)

“Looking good, Poms.”

Her eyes leave her face to the rabbit standing near the entrance, and for a second she feels her stomach drop— Jax looks great, his pink overalls and yellow gloves completely gone and replaced by the same multicolored leotard, legs covered by a similar black silk, his way less sparkly than hers but it suits him perfectly, and it’s obvious they’ve been partnered together for the adventure. Today, of all days. But his tone is almost sincere, his smile not as cynical as usual, something… different, almost friendly, shining in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, she can trust him through this.

“You’re not looking so bad either.” Pomni offers, turning around to really look at him, not at a reflection. It’s… uncanny to see him so calm, so tame. She’d have expected him to burst in anger at Caine’s choice of his clothing and his place in this fake circus, but this is definitely way less humiliating than the maid outfit. “Do you… uhh, know what everyone else is doing?”

Jax just shrugs, boredom plastered on his face once more, and she fights the urge to throw something at him. He’s not so bad — yet, he’s not bad yet, a little voice in her head whispers, and she shuts it down quickly — and a chill adventure could help ease all the tension building up her shoulders, even if it means playing around as a… what’s it called again? Aerialist? It sounds right. Even if it means playing her part as an aerialist. With Jax. She can do it.

“Ragatha’s the animal trainer or something, Zooble’s a juggler. Didn’t look for Crybaby or Kinger, to be honest. My bet’s on a freak show. And we…” And suddenly Jax is too close, not a care in the world about her personal space, a hand resting on her waist to pull her even closer. “We’re going to be the real stars, of course. Everyone loves a good acrobacy show.”

He’s staring again, and for a moment Pomni feels her breath getting stuck on her throat, the intensity of his gaze almost too much for her; he won’t talk to her about what’s really important, he won’t apologize even if his life depends on it and she hates it, she hates she can’t make him be better, but she can’t help but notice the funny way her heart beats against her ribcage at the intimacy of the moment, how close they really are.

“If I decide to catch you, that is.”

The spell is broken in a split second, his smile too large, too wrong, her body stumbling back as he pushes her away with too much brute force— and it’s a miracle she doesn’t collide with the mirror right behind her, her feet digging on the ground before she could fall off, and he’s gone before she can cuss him out. Disappointment washes over her like an ice bucket, because of course, of course Jax would do this.

Everything is a joke to him.
Why can’t she learn that lesson already?

Ragatha is, in fact, the animal trainer, her dress replaced by a red and black suit, and she seems unusually happy — beaming, even — to be riding a horse around the arena, some smaller pets following them close and doing silly tricks along the way. Zooble is near a tent, theirs probably, their extra arms mindlessly juggling colorful balls and rings as they chat with Gangle— and she looks extra cute, a red, fluffy cape resting on her shoulders and covering her chest, a hoodie pulled over her head, a small top hat resting on the corner of her comedy mask. There’s a bundle of red and pink ribbons at her feet, most likely thrown into a ribbon dancer role.

(She looks happy. Pomni almost envies her.)

“There you are!” Kinger’s voice drags Pomni back to the arena and she yelps in surprise, almost jumping away at his sudden presence by her side— he doesn’t look offended, of course he doesn’t, and it takes her only a second to figure out who’s the ringmaster tonight. It’s kinda fitting, really, and she’s glad it’s him and not Caine in charge, at least for a little bit. “Ready for the warmups?”

The question dumps another ice bucket on her head and every inch of joy she’s been gathering at her friends’ happiness is suddenly gone, replaced by the dread she still hasn’t been able to shake away. Jax is somewhere up the pole already, and it’s easy to spot him even under the dim lights, his smile still too dangerously wide. He’s about to make her life as miserable as possible, she can feel it, and there’s no way Pomni could walk this one out until the adventure is over. She still smiles at Kinger, giving him a thumbs up before moving to a long, blue silk waiting near the center of the arena.

And as all over the place and completely crazy as Caine is, he does program his adventures well enough. The fabric feels familiar under her touch, and she wraps it on her hand and wrist easily, giving it a gentle tug. It feels just right, safe enough. Pomni trusts herself and her new skills coded into her avatar as much as possible, thank you very much. It’s Jax who can’t be trusted, Jax who got to be her duo when he wants nothing but to cause her misery.

“It’s alright. Jax tags along with adventures anyway, he’ll do just fine now.”

(And she wants to trust him, she really does. Someone should give her an award for being too trusty, or too stupid. Anything would do.)

The silk strap is released above her head and she clings tightly to it, her body moving freely upwards. Panic takes over her senses for only a moment before Pomni relaxes, allows herself to enjoy the sudden wave of freedom of not being on the ground, wraps herself on the silk slowly, not even thinking too much about it— her body just knows what she’s supposed to do and she lets it take control, shutting her mind down, closing her eyes.

(It feels… like coming home, and she likes it, she really does.)

Her eyes fly open at the weird, unnatural tug somewhere above her head, Jax’s shadow all the way over her side, and Pomni barely has time to register what he’s doing— the silk snaps, panic resurfacing as her body plummets to the ground. She hits it hard, air knocked out of her even if she knows she doesn’t need it, pain running wild up her legs and back for a brief moment, but it’s long enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Ragatha is over her in a moment, fussing, coddling, yelling at Jax. He’s still somewhere up there laughing hysterically, too loud, too out of his mind (and maybe, just maybe he’s finally snapping). Pomni wants to scream, cry, maybe punch him but she doesn’t move, allows herself to take a moment until the pain subdues, the buzzing sensation gone. It doesn’t help with everything else piling up too fast on her, too heavy for her to carry— too many sleepless nights, too many hours worrying about him, too many sweet concerns from Ragatha, still treating her as if she were a child.

(She’s so close to self-abstracting, for f$%@’s sake.)

“C’mon PomPom, you should know better than trust me to be your partner up here!” Jax yells, still laughing, the smugness in his voice so sickening she wants to throw up right there— but she doesn’t. She’s better than that, better than him.

She pushes Ragatha’s hand away, pushes herself up off the ground. At least her leotard hasn’t been ruined, and she brushes the dirt off of it with slow movements, a numb wave of pain throbbing up and down her arm. Jax is close by, safely out of reach, his smile so wide he looks completely unhinged. And Pomni wonders, for a moment, what she ever did to make him hate her that much. She just wanted to be friends. It couldn’t be so wrong, right?

(She finds out she doesn’t really care.)

“You’re right.” Her voice is flat, devoid of any of the too many feelings she’d been hoarding too close to her chest; it’s more than what he deserves right now, but it doesn’t bring her any satisfaction to see his smile falter. She’s tired, really tired, and she marches quietly back to her tent, avoids everyone’s gaze, ignores their questions.

The curtain shields her from prying eyes, but she can still hear Zooble’s loud, sarcastic “good job, a@#%$*&” before tuning them all out, crossing the tent in slow steps; her left leg still hurts, and she sits down near a pile of hay bales in the farthest corner of the tent, arms wrapped around her legs, head resting on her knees. The darkness is comforting, and she closes her eyes just to get more lost in it.

(Pomni doesn’t notice when she starts crying quietly, doesn’t feel the warm tears running down her face, staining the silk of her leotard.)

Maybe Zooble is right.
Maybe he’s not worth it.

Chapter Text

He didn’t mean to hurt her. He doesn’t even know why he did it in the first place, his body on autopilot since they stepped into this place, this mock attempt of a circus, and only when she was falling to the ground did he notice what he had done. And he feels himself laughing at her pain, at the betrayal, the realization shining in her eyes (she’s about to cry, he just knows it, and something inside him twists painfully but he keeps smiling, keeps laughing, because what else is he supposed to do?)

They can’t be friends.
Can’t she see the only thing he’s good at is hurting others?

“Good job, a@#%$*&.” Zooble’s voice snaps him out of his stupor, the venom in their words so obvious he could almost choke on it. Maybe you should, you good-for-nothing rabbit. “I don’t know what crawled up your a@# and died there, but this is going too far.”

His smile grows wider.
(He knows Zooble won’t buy his act, won't take the bait so easily, but he doesn’t need them to.)

“And whatcha gonna do about it, Zoobie?”

“Tell Caine.” They state simply, as if that’s the most obvious response they could give, one of their too many hands connecting a bit too hard to his chest— it’s not enough to make him move but the meaning is too obvious to ignore. “You wanna be a rabid animal? Fine, I don’t give a single f%$@, but I’ll make sure he treats your sorry a$% like one.”

The threat is real, very real. There’s no doubt in his mind Zooble will do exactly that the moment they leave this fake circus, and for a moment he almost feels like grabbing their parts and scattering them all over the place and leave everyone else scrambling to find every piece. Someone calls Zooble’s name, maybe Gangle. Neither of them care, and Jax just steps closer to them, his smile wrong (you’re all wrong, bunny boy, they hate you, just die already, no one will care). They don’t move, holding his gaze defiantly, and he hates them so much for that, for not backing down. Pomni does that too, and for a second he can almost feel a tug of guilt somewhere down his chest.

“Guys, we should…” Gangle intercedes, stammering at every word, and the ridiculousness of the situation snaps Jax out of his dangerous thoughts, his eyes falling on her— and it only makes things worse, her voice cracking more easily under his gaze. “We can’t really go home until we finish the show, so… maybe we get this done first?”

No one talks for a moment, the silence growing more and more uncomfortable as time ticks by, tension so thick it's almost easy to touch it; they’re so pathetic, all of them (you’re pathetic look at you you can’t even go around without burning everything you touch) and there’s no point in arguing, really. So he walks away, ignores anyone calling him out— they don’t, and he’s not surprised. He deserves it. It’s what he wanted, isn’t it?

His feet drag him all the way back to the shared tent, his hand hovering over the closed curtain for a moment; there are soft sobs inside, and the pang of guilt suddenly feel too heavy, too constricting, stuck on his throat and no matter what he does he can’t swallow it back, can’t ignore it like he’s done so, so many times before. Pomni’s not supposed to be crying. Not because of him.

(She hates you now, she sure does. You did it, you dumb f$@#.)

“Pom, come out already.” His voice sounds wrong to his ears, a note too high; and the sobs stop suddenly, but the silence that follows is worse, way worse, it makes his stomach turn, makes him want to get in there already and— do what, exactly? She's already crying because of him. “If you don’t come out, I’ll be dragging you all the way back to the arena. I want this stupid adventure over already.”

No answer. Maybe this is how she feels whenever he doesn’t respond to her attempts to talk to him between closed doors.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

She wants— no, she needs him gone.

It’s easy to clear all the tears from her face but the unnamed feeling racking through her body is still there, still too loud and she can’t deal with Jax or anyone else right now. He still steps inside, the stupid smile too relaxed on his face as if he’s done nothing wrong, as if he’s not the source of most of her problems, and something in her just… snaps.

She doesn’t feel her body reaching for something on the ground, doesn’t feel her hurling it towards him with all the strength she could muster. To her surprise, the bowling pine hits Jax square on the head and he stumbles back, barely keeping his balance, hands flying to his face as if that’s enough to ease the pain, and god she wishes she could feel anything but good at the realization she’s hurting him. She’s standing now, her breathing quick, her face burning.

(It’s rage, she finally realizes, pure and unadulterated rage, almost blinding; she hasn’t felt like this in a good while, not even after the gun event. Back then, she was just angry.)

“What the—” His groan is a mix of surprise and pain, his smile all but gone— good, he deserves it, a bit of payback for all the pain he’s been causing to everyone else. “What’s wrong with you?! It was just a joke! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“That’s all I am to you?!” Another pine flies towards him and he dodges it the last second, eyes wide and pupils so small she could barely see the black dots. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t even care she’s almost shouting now. “A f$%*@#g joke?!”

He’s breathing just as quick as her now, his twisted smile back, distorting his face into something maniac, something that barely resembles him; too bad she’s out of pines. The plastic rings wouldn’t cause as much damage, not even to his ego.

“Are you kidding me?! Of course that’s all you are!”

Wrong answer.

She’s on him before she could think about it, her body running on adrenaline and rage, but she doesn’t kick him down— not yet. She grabs the top part of his leotard instead, forces him to bend to her level, her grip tight enough to almost rip the fragile fabric. Jax struggles under her enraged grip, tries to push her away but Pomni doesn’t budge, feet glued to the ground as if she were part of it, her frustration and anger keeping her anchored.

“Then look me in the eye and tell me how much you hate me! Stop being a f&$#@!*g coward for once in your life and TELL! ME! THE! TRUTH!” and she tugs at his shirt hard, emphasizing every word, voice louder and louder and god she wishes she could care about someone hearing them right now.

It’s nothing but a poor repetition of the same song and dance from weeks prior, the same feelings she couldn’t control back there being amplified by Jax’s unending apathy and hopelessness, his pile of lies he couldn’t hide behind anymore but would still try. It’s infuriating, Jax is infuriating, he’s a liar and he doesn’t deserve any of her efforts, she knows that but she can’t, she just can’t give up on him— and he does his best not to meet her eyes, looking everywhere but at her.

“Let me go, you freak!” His growl is dangerous, almost feral, but his grip on her arm is miles softer than hers, as if he really doesn’t want to hurt her again, and Pomni just tugs him closer, almost bringing him down— and the thought crosses her mind for a second, the idea of strangling him again until some sense actually got into his head dangerously appealing. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t care about you at ALL?!”

“B&@!#*T!”

Her body moves faster than her thoughts, not that she’s trying all that hard to stop it; it’s easy to hurl him over her shoulder, a pained grunt escaping the rabbit when his back connects too harshly with the ground, and she takes the opening to sit on his chest, hands not on his neck this time but on his shoulders, pinning him down, fingers digging deep into his fur— and his eyes are nothing but tiny spots in a golden sea, pure rage written all over his face, his hands flying to her waist to maybe, just maybe throw her away from his body.

But he doesn’t. A coward through and through.

“I have no idea who hurt you so badly you feel you need to make everyone else as miserable as you, but it doesn’t mean you can go around hurting others, especially ME—” And the urge to bash his head against the floor rises too quickly, too hot and she forces it away from her thoughts, growling at his poor attempts at escaping her hands instead. “ME, of ALL PEOPLE STUCK IN THIS F@%&#*G NIGHTMARE, when I’ve been nothing but NICE to you, when everyone and their mothers is telling me what a f&$#@!*g piece of s$%t you are! Do you think I LIKE hearing them say all these things about you?!”

(It’s his fault for being so cruel to everyone around him.)

“I’m sorry you have to deal with stuff that wasn’t your fault, but this isn’t how you do it!”

Jax goes still, strangely so, pupils growing so big she almost can’t see the yellow in his eyes, smile completely gone. His hands are trembling around her waist now, no longer pretending to fight her off but clinging to her as if he needed to anchor himself onto something, anything, his eyes fixed on hers; he looks… so lost. It makes her anger subdue easily, leaving her completely drained, exhaustion threatening to rear its ugly head. Stupid bunny. The jester relaxes her fingers, allowing herself to rest her forehead against his. He’s warm, his fur weirdly comforting against her white skin.

“I hate you.” He offers quietly after a second, sounding nothing but defeated, fight completely gone from his body; a hand abandons her waist to rest on her back, pressing her close in a weird hug but she couldn’t care less. She adjusts herself instead, lets her head rest on his shoulder.

(She’s so, so tired.)

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, Jax.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, one she knows won’t last for long but it’s welcome anyway. Her chest feels lighter, all the frustration finally out of her system, and for the first time in weeks she feels… okay. Not great, still walking a very thin line between a panic attack and a meltdown every other day, but at least it’s not so bad right now. It’s manageable, rage safely contained and almost forgotten deep down in her avatar.

Jax moves another hand to her hair. He’s still shaking, his breath still all wrong, all his manic energy drained and replaced by all the ugly feelings he keeps repressing and refusing to talk about. She hates seeing him like this, and there isn’t much she can do to help if he doesn’t want to be helped. So she looks away for now, closes her eyes and just lets him brush her hair.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, and it’s so soft and broken Pomni doubts she’d have caught that if they weren’t this close. “I’m all kinds of messed up. I don’t know why I did that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She doesn’t think he’s talking only about tonight.
(But for once, his words sound sincere.)

“I kinda got my payback.” She sighs, brushing his face where the bowling pin had hit ever so gently; he flinches, but doesn’t move away from her reach. God he’s so exhausting. Everything in this place is exhausting. “This isn’t… I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to have to fight you every other day. It’s fine if you don’t want to talk. Just let me be there for you, because you’re my friend and I care about you. Is that so much to ask?”

He doesn’t respond; there’s clapping and cheering outside, too many voices mixed, words too distorted for her to even care about trying to figure out what they were saying. She doesn’t need to, really, not when there are too many lights dancing behind the curtains of her… their tent, and Pomni lets out another sigh, clinging to Jax’s shoulders when he finally moves to sit up, his arms curled tight around her, his face buried on her neck.

(She doesn’t stop herself from resting a hand on his head, right between his now droopy ears.)

“If you two idiots are done shouting at each other, show's about to start.” Zooble’s voice startles her, pinwheel eyes flying right at the tent’s entrance but no one’s in there right now, their friend probably standing outside, giving them a tiny bit of privacy. Or maybe keeping the others out. It doesn’t really matter. “Get your s@&t together and get moving, I wanna go home tonight.”

He doesn’t want to let go.

He knows he should be moving already, Zooble’s annoying voice snapping him out of a dizzy stupor he almost got lost in, and he knows he should be going out there to play his dumb part and get this stupid adventure done with but… Pomni is still in his arms (it makes no sense why doesn’t she hate him he deserves it she should hate him), her hand still on his head, his face still hidden on the crook of her neck, breathing in slowly, trying to ground himself.

(Has she ever been this small? He couldn’t remember.)

“Showtime, I guess.” She giggles softly, and her movements make something flutter inside his stomach. “Come on, if we stay here for another minute Zooble will combust.”

“Good.” His voice is hoarse, more tired than he really intended (pathetic you’re so pathetic she’s gonna leave too) and he makes a show of hugging her tighter, careful not to hurt her (again you keep hurting her don’t you?). “You think we can make some s’mores when it happens? I’m pretty sure there’s marshmallows somewhere around here.”

Pomni is laughing now, not as bright and loud as usual but it’s a laughter nonetheless, her hands pushing him away with no real strength— and man did she have some wild strength hidden in such a tiny body, or maybe he just didn’t want to fight her off tonight. It doesn’t matter. He lets his arms relax, watches as she escapes his grip with ease, her black leotard seeming to shine a bit more now that he’s really looking at her.

(She’s beautiful.)

The thought is there and gone in a fleeting moment, his face burning in embarrassment but thankfully she’s not looking at him, more worried to adjust the leotard and make sure it looks pristine— the voices in the back of his head try to chime in and he shuts them down quickly, pushes himself to stand up, dusting the dirt off his pants; this is a pretty good improvement on the maid dress, that’s for sure, and he’s not gonna complain about the changes, not when Pomni looks so cute…

(Stop that already, geez.)

“Let’s get this show moving, Poms.”

Chapter Text

There’s a myriad of faceless mannequins sitting all around the arena, their programmed cheers and fake enthusiasm echoing through the circus. It’s loud and it’s bright, reminding him a bit too much of the Awards event, of the anxiety growing larger and darker, panic flowing freely through his veins as if he’s standing in that bathroom again, staring at a broken, hollow shadow of himself (he doesn’t need to breathe but he feels like choking on air anyway, his heart trying to break free from his chest and no one cared to check up on him, no one noticed he’d been gone—)

A warm hand slips on his, holding tight.
(It feels real, she always feels real.)

“Not a fan of big audiences?” Pomni tries to sound way more confident than she really appears, giving his paw a reassuring squeeze; and he knows she’s noticed something, can sense her gaze on his face for a moment before looking back at the audience when he refuses to meet her eyes.

(He’s just grateful she doesn’t push it, doesn’t push him.)

“Nah, I don’t mind them. Just wasn’t expecting all the lights.” The lie escapes easily, practiced. The jester hums under her breath in response, something between amusement and suspicion, and Jax feels his entire body relaxing, the hot panic still thrumming under his skin but not so blinding, not so loud as before and he’s not really sure why— it doesn’t matter, really. “Ready, Pompom? I won’t let you fall this time.”

Pomni stares at him again, her expression completely unreadable under the dancing lights, and he can’t help but laugh, hoisting her up and against his chest before any of them could really think about it (and what is there to think about when she fits perfectly in his arms, as if her entire avatar has been handcrafted for him and him alone?), free hand reaching for a rope in the dark and finding it a bit too quickly, wrapping it tight around his wrist with a mastery he’s pretty sure got forced into his code the moment they stepped through that portal.

(Caine keeps saying he has no control over their minds, and Jax keeps calling that a fat old lie. Tonight, he doesn’t care that much.)

“Pinky promise.” Jax adds, just for good measure, and the jester offers a soft chuckle, her hands resting on his shoulders, fingers more gentle on his fur this time— and she’s been so touchy tonight, they both have, and there’s a little voice in the back of his head reminding him of how much she dislikes being touched, always flinching away, moving out of reach when it’s everyone else but him.

(He’s completely unsure of what to do with that particular bit of information right now.)

“Can’t go back on your word now, bunny boy.” She says simply, and something about the way the little jester smiles at him makes his heart beat in his throat— and he’s quick to swallow it back, quick to ignore the burning sensation on his face, so, so grateful for the low light not betraying his embarrassment… probably. “Ready when you are.”

It feels weird, in an almost comfortable way, to be this close to him. She knows her body isn’t all that heavy, especially to Jax, and he could throw her around like a toy whenever he pleased  and a small, bruised part of her expects him to do exactly that, to not follow through with their roles in the adventure at all. The music is loud on her ears, the cheers echoing all over the tent and she tunes it down, forces her mind to focus on Jax’s hand on her waist, the warmth of his body against hers. He tugs the rope after a moment of hesitation, a too familiar knot in the very bottom of her stomach seeming to grow in anticipation as they’re sent flying up—

And he does throw her, the safety of his arms suddenly gone but his aim is perfect, as if they’d done that same thing over and over and over and over again, and Pomni grabs the hoop she knows she’s supposed to grab, the choreography engraved deep into her code; and it’s easier to let her own body do the heavy part as it’s programmed to, too easy to let her mind wander and get lost in the sensations, to just enjoy herself in an aerial dance she never believed to be capable of— much less with someone like Jax as her partner, but she follows his lead anyway, because it feels just… right.

Sometimes he holds her for a second longer, almost missing a trapeze.
Sometimes she lets go of his hand at the last moment, barely able to catch her rope.

But Jax is Jax, and it comes with no surprise when he breaks the invisible script once, catching her rope and pulling it close, sending them spiraling slowly, their weights combined pulling them down. Pomni retaliates by pushing him away when they get to the ground, back in the air in a moment all alone— but she spots the exact second he takes her bait, his eyes shining at the sudden, unexpected challenge. He moves fast, climbing the pole as if it was nothing, grabbing her rope with ease when she flies past him, and she doesn’t fight it when he takes over, simply allows the rabbit to pick her up and throw her in the air.

If this is some kind of weird trust exercise, he passes with flying colors. He catches the jester easily, their intimate dance resuming, back into script as if nothing’s happened. It might be a good show to everyone else too, if the clapping and cheering are to indicate anything.

(She wishes he was this easy more often. That’d save her from so much heartache.)

She has no idea how long their number lasts but it comes to an end anyway, Jax holding her high in the air as she bows to the audience— and she can feel his arm shaking under her almost non-existent weight, muscles probably as sore as hers, both of them exhausted to the bone but she doesn’t think she’s felt this happy before.

“WELCOME BACK, MY SHINY BUTTERFLIES!!” Caine is already there when they cross the portal, his entire body vibrating and he seems unable to stay in place for more than a second, zapping between each one of them in quick succession, analyzing— any other post-adventure day, that’d be annoying. Right now? Pomni just wants to drag her sore body to her bed and sleep for an entire week or two. “HOW WAS THE ADVENTURE?”

It had been… actually pretty good, she thinks, despite her semi-meltdown and Jax giving her all the right and wrong reasons to kick his a@#, but she had a really good time. It felt relaxing to be up there, to fall in perfect sync with Jax despite whatever happened between them before, to let herself get lost in the absurdity of it all and just enjoy the fact they could do anything. She doesn’t think how intimate it really was, refuses to let her mind wander that far because it’s dumb, but a small part of her hopes he’s had fun as well.

“I really liked it.” The words escape the jester before anyone else could start, the sincerity in her voice too obvious, and it grants her a too excited ringmaster floating a bit too close to her face, personal space all but forgotten or ignored by Caine, as if he’s studying her for… something she couldn’t really care to figure out. “It’d be fun to have all those props around here too, like the hoops… and the clothes.”

It’s been not even two minutes and she misses her leotard already.

“Wasn’t that bad.” Zooble offers, and for a second they just stare at Pomni as if trying to decide on something— but the moment is there and gone, shrugged off by a tired former bartender, their gaze resting on Caine. “Not really my cup of tea but it was nice to chill and enjoy the show. I think everyone had a good time.”

“I know I did.” Gangle chimes in quietly, wriggling her ribbon hands together, a soft shade of pink plastered on her comedy mask; she’d managed to keep it from breaking for the entire adventure. Good for her, she deserves some peace of mind, Pomni thinks. “The cape I had was… really cute. It’d be nice to have… other things to wear in here.”

“Pomni is right, I think we’d enjoy it here a bit more if we could… have some of those things.” Ragatha adds after a moment of silence, her smile not quite reaching her eye, and god Pomni wishes she had more energy to care about her friend’s behavior, her mind a second away from shutting down right then and there. “Maybe make this place a bit of a real circus.”

Jax tunes the conversation down, energy completely drained from his body, and slips away from the group before anyone could notice him escaping the utter, complete waste of time that is these “post-adventures feedback sessions”. Caine would bend over as usual, do whatever they want just to please them only to turn around and turn the next adventure into their worst nightmare so why bother listening in? He doesn’t care if any of them had fun.

(He doesn’t think about how good it’d felt to be up there, with Pomni. He’ll forget about it tomorrow anyway.)

But he notices when Zooble walks by him into the communal room, something inside him sparkling back into consciousness— he’s still tired, but sleep has escaped him in a moment, because Zooble had kept their mouth shut, hadn’t said anything and he needs to know why; it’s stupid really, not worth of his time nor attention but he’s curious anyway, and no better time than now when Zooble is alone for once, everyone else still talking to Caine.

“So, Zoobie…” He approaches the couch slowly, rests his weight against it right beside Zooble just to tower over them, his grin too wide just to p*!s them off. “I knew you didn’t have it in you to rattle me out. Never took you for being a softie.”

“So what?” Zooble just tsks impatiently, looking up at him with a weird expression he couldn’t really read. It’s weird, and they’re weird, and Jax can’t bring himself to care at all about it. “I didn’t say anything yet because Pomni looks okay with dealing with your miserable a$&, and I care about her.” There’s some implication lost in their words, one he refuses to think about just yet. “Next time you pull any of that b$@*¥%t again? I’ll make sure Caine drops you in a hole so deep even he will forget how to get there, no matter if it means spending the rest of my existence enduring his adventures without complaining about them ever again.”

His grin drops for a moment, acid humor and even his bone-deep exhaustion all but gone from his body, the threat so clear and so real he knows they’re not bluffing— no, definitely not bluffing, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Zooble this serious, this ready to bite his head off if he said the wrong thing, but a too high-pitched laughter escapes him anyway, his smile too wide. Joke it out, it doesn’t matter.

“Oh my, Zoobie. I thought you had a crush on Gangle, but eyeing Pomni too?” And his voice isn’t loud enough but Zooble tenses up for a moment, the almost-permanent scowl back to their face— but something else passes by their eyes, and it makes Jax’s skin crawl. “Leave some for the rest of us, would ya?”

He pushes, because that’s all he can do, all that he knows.

(All that he’s good at.)

Unfortunately for him, it’s Zooble he’s talking to, not Gangle.
They ignore the bait. Even worse, it backfires. Spectacularly.

“What if I do?” They don’t, and he knows that, but the question still makes his heart beat wrong for a second there. “At least she can trust me not to hurt her just because I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or abandon her because I’m too scared to deal with my own s#$t.”

The rage that bubbled up his veins when he found himself stuck in a stupid maid suit couldn’t even compare to the wave of blind hatred spreading too fast through his body at their words, his breath so shallow it almost hurts. It’s instinct, pure and simple, his rational mind thrown out of the window in a moment and he can’t understand it, he doesn’t even want nor try to— he wouldn’t hurt her like that on purpose, it’s stupid to think so.

(But you hurt her today, didn’t you, stupid bunny? Just like you abandoned Ribbit and didn’t even look back. They’re right, you’re no better than a rabid animal.)

There’s a sudden urge to just grab Zooble and dismantle every piece from the inside out to figure out how their stupid body works, a burning, almost poisonous wave spreading fast up his neck and on his face— he feels his hands opening and closing tight, small waves of pain running up his arms, grounding, too real for a place that’s anything but real, his body on a too controlled autopilot he despises more than he despises Zooble.

“Shut up, toybox.” His voice is too low, uncharacteristically so, and he doesn’t miss the way Zooble’s good eye narrows at his tone shift— not scared of him or his poor reaction, of course they wouldn’t be, but something else Jax refuses to acknowledge because it. doesn’t. matter.

“Walk away, Jax.”

Any other day, he’d just laugh it off, just ignore Zooble’s grumpiness.
Today, the way to his room has never felt so short.

(In his blind rage, he doesn’t notice a certain jester calling his name.)

Chapter Text

She’s avoiding him.

It takes him a few days to take notice of her absence around him when she used to be a constant, and it dawns on him with the subtlety of a punch to the face. In retrospect, he couldn’t have expected anything different. Their arguments, back during the gun adventure and then at the traveling circus, had been cruel, painful, words chosen carefully to make each of them bleed— not that he’d ever admit how much of a toll it took on him, his carefully constructed walls threatening to come tumbling down just because of her. And maybe, just maybe everything would’ve been better if she just shot him that night so he’d have every excuse under the moon to push her away, to shift the blame, to set ablaze their tattered relationship and watch it burn.

But she didn’t. And now she’s avoiding him and he doesn’t even know why.

It’s infuriating, really. He should be happy about this, relieved even. He’d pushed her away, bragged how much he didn’t need her around, and the jester finally decided to leave him alone but the victory still feels hollow when he knows she’s been doing her worst to salvage a friendship that’s never been worthy any of her efforts, trying to pick up the broken pieces he’s left behind.

(And he’s the only one to blame. He shouldn’t have approached her. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Loneliness, albeit painful, had been a pretty good friend. He didn’t need anyone else, and there’d been no reason for that to change just because someone new came around.)

Something had settled between them, though, during the circus adventure. A peace offer of some kind, between the bursts of violence and hurtful words. Hadn’t he earned that? He’d apologized, and they’d taken their roles too seriously, too perfectly when they didn’t even need to, Jax being the one matching her pace, following her song and dance because he’d felt he owed her that much. He’d seen how happy she was, the happiest she’s looked since her arrival. So, what changed?

He shifts in his bed, forces his body up and against the bedframe, sleep impossible to reach when his mind keeps zipping around his scrambled memories, looking at everything he’s done in the past days…weeks? that could somehow explain Pomni’s sudden change of heart but nothing comes into light and his frustration only grows larger, twisting into something ugly that he refuses to name. He shouldn’t be this upset.

of course she’d hate you. they all hate you.

(But he is, and it feels as dreadful and horrifying as the memory of himself locked in that bathroom, panic holding him down, choking him. It brings a vile taste to his mouth, his room suddenly too cold, the darkness too overwhelming.)

they don’t need you, they’re happier when you’re not around

His hands close around his ears, tugging at them hard. It hurts, and pain feels real, more real than anything else around him, easier to comprehend. It’s not fair, not when he tried to do something right. And he shouldn’t have tried, really. He doesn’t care, he shouldn’t care. She’s better off with the others anyway, with someone who won’t hurt her feelings every other day. There’s that ugly, twisted feeling again clawing at the pit of his stomach, his breath stuck somewhere in his throat— breathing hurts, so much more than the constant tugging at his ears, the warmth of tears running down his cheeks almost too much to bear.

pathetic you’re so pathetic
that’s exactly what you wanted, stop being a c̸r̶y̴b̶a̵b̷y̸ about it

(He doesn’t hear the sob racking through his body, nothing but a pitiful wail, the beating of his heart impossibly loud in his ears and he can’t make it stop, can’t tune it down, the numbness running wild on his body, spreading too fast, untamed, consuming him—)

just a̴̰̎b̴̯̀s̷̻̆t̶̜̒r̷̮̎ä̸̬́c̷͚̈́t̶̙̂ already.
no one’s gonna miss you.

The warmth spreads down his neck, all around his chest, as overwhelming as the cold had been not a minute ago but something just seemed to… shift, somehow. There’s another voice somewhere, so different from the one whispering in the back of his mind, the words muffled by everything else, something (a hand, maybe?) running up and down his face, caressing his cheeks, smoothing his fur back into place, and it’s so gentle, impossibly so, he can’t help but sob again.

you don’t d̷͘ͅẻ̴̫s̶̹͠è̷̪r̸͉̕v̸͕̾e̴̙̍ kindness

But the hand doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull away— a second one comes along instead, and he can almost feel it over his own hands, prying his fingers from his ears carefully, forcing him to let go of his death grip and he doesn’t fight it. The pain on his head subdues ever so slightly, the numbness breaking down at the soft touches on his fur. The voice is singing now, the tune familiar, sickening so, but the words are still too mumbled and confusing for him to recognize so he stops trying, just closes his eyes for a moment and relaxes on the hand still on his face.

(It’s warm, comfortable. Safe.)

The noise in his head dissipates into a low buzzing, his heart still beating too fast against his ribcage but breathing doesn’t hurt as bad now, still wrong and uncomfortable but at least his lungs aren’t burning from the lack of oxygen. There’s a sharp pain running up and down his back, and for the first time he notices he’s not in his bed anymore but on the floor, slumped against the wall where a bed table should’ve been— it’s knocked down now, lampshade (or what’s left of it) scattered all over the carpet, g̴l̴i̶t̴c̵h̸i̶n̵g̸ in and out of existence.

Huh, that’s… a bit weird.

He decides to shift his focus somewhere else, the fog still heavy on his confused mind but receding inch by inch. His hands are resting by his sides, useless and numb, and he doesn’t even bother trying to move. But he can feel someone on his lap, a hand still on his cheek, another on his ear, fingers massaging it gently. There are pinwheel eyes locked on his face, filled with something he couldn’t really grasp— confusion, or worry, he can’t really bring himself to care.

She smiles anyway, kind, caring. He doesn’t get it, why she’s so nice to him, why she keeps giving and giving, wearing her heart on her sleeve so he could make it bleed more easily. But she’s here now, and in that moment that’s all that matters.

“Hey, Pompom...” His voice sounds alien to his ears, too soft, too broken, an impossibly deep exhaustion settling all over his body like a blanket. He’s tired, so tired now but he smiles anyway, forces a hand to rest on her waist. She’s warm, real, and she’s here with him, she doesn’t hate him. She wouldn’t be here if she did, right? “Not really…appropriate to break into a boy’s room in the middle of the night.”

Pomni just rolls her eyes but there’s a shadow of amusement hidden in her smile, the hand on his ear moving down to massage his shoulder, and he ignores the shiver that wracks his body all the way down, pretends not to hear the pained sigh that escapes his lips. He’s not sure why the pain is still there, so raw and overwhelming, but maybe it doesn’t matter, maybe he just needs to sleep it off…

(The thought of sleeping alone in his room crosses his mind for a split second, and it’s almost enough to send him spiraling again.)

“Hey.” And the jester is holding his free hand now, running her fingers on the fur of his arm, her gaze never leaving his face. She’s too soft, really. Too caring. There’s no way she’s gonna last so long in this place. It’s gonna swallow her whole. He shudders, tries to tune down that stupid voice— the hand on his cheek doesn’t let him look away for too long. “Do you think you can stand up?”

The chuckle he offers is hollow, humorless. He can barely move as he is, numbness too heavy on his bones still. How is he supposed to stand up and what, just to get back to his bed when it’s the last thing he wants to do right now? He’d rather curl up and sleep on the floor, and that’s probably what he’s going to do when she leaves. It’s not like she’s gonna baby him the entire night anyway, not when he’s fine— just really, really tired.

And Pomni just sighs in response, her warmth disappearing from his body when she stands up and it takes him every ounce of energy left not to whine at the sudden loss, but why would it matter so much? He’s already looking pathetic enough— but she’s not gone for long, her hands on him again before his drained mind could follow. She’s pulling him close, forcing him to stand up, an arm placed firmly around his waist to keep him from tumbling down, the other arm keeping him half-balanced against her.

(He’s shaking like a leaf, strength vanished from his sore muscles, but she holds tight, her grip too steady for someone so small.)

“Take it easy. We just need to get to my room.”

He wants to fight it, to push her away and fall back into his bed because he doesn’t need all of this, he doesn’t need her at all— and something stirs in the back of his mind, something dark and twisted, dread quick to rise its head and he shuts up, forces himself to drag his feet, and it’s hard, really hard for some unexplainable reason, legs so numb it feels like dragging a cartoonish anvil. It’s a struggle to move so much, trying to navigate a room he could barely recognize, Pomni’s warmth the only thing keeping him alert.

And she huffs and puffs under his weight against her, her funny clown body way more fragile than his but she doesn’t complain, doesn’t stop until they’re all the way into her room— and in a moment he’s laying on a bed that’s too small for his figure and he couldn’t care less, curling up on himself to get comfortable; it’s warm in here, quiet and safe in a way his room has never been, and there’s no point in trying to fight his own body anymore.

(That’s a lost battle anyway.)

She’s on the verge of another meltdown, that’s for sure. There’s a buzzing pain under her skin, constant and a bit too raw, her breath coming in short wheezes but there’s only so much Pomni can care about right now and that definitely isn’t on the top of her list. Jax is fast asleep by the time she gets back, one of his blankets safely secured in her hands and both their doors locked behind her. There’s something distressing about the way he looks, bordering wrong, almost as if she walked on something she wasn’t supposed to see— because he’s never looked this sick before, this fragile, curled up around her pillow and trembling ever so slightly, and she decides to stop wasting time analyzing him, just gets close enough to drop the blanket over him, adjusting it around his body.

(He’d been so, so cold…)

She doesn’t think too much when she presses a soft, chaste kiss to his forehead, smoothing the fur back into its right place. She doesn’t think about what she saw when she broke down into his room tonight, about the crushing panic she still feels like drowning in. The jester just sits by his side, fingers running up and down his face gently. He’s taken all the space in her small bed, and that’s okay. She’s not gonna be able to sleep tonight anyway.

Chapter Text

It’s your fault.

The words have been echoing in her head for a good part of the night, guilt so heavy on her shoulders it’s a miracle she hasn’t crumbled right there under the pressure, mashed into a puddle of nothing but remorse. She could — and should — have checked on him before, should’ve not ignored the little voice in her head gnawing on her since his absence in the breakfast that morning, telling her something was wrong. But she decided to brush it aside, because maybe Jax was still pissed at her for what happened at the traveling circus and would come around as he always did.

(The way he stormed away after the adventure, not even looking at her, had hurt more than she’d ever admit.)

But she could’ve done something. Giving him some space didn’t seem to be working in her favor anyway, driving her up the walls, frustration piling up more and more— and maybe that’s why she didn’t go after him. She could’ve checked his room, could’ve beaten his a$@ again and demanded to know why he was still angry because she had thought they'd settled whatever’s going on between them during their performance, she really did, but they’d end up fighting again and she was just… so tired of it.

Still, she should’ve done something, anything.
Misery loves company, and they’re both pretty miserable in their own special way.

She lets out a soft sigh, shifts ever so lightly against Jax not to wake him up, her back pressed against his chest in a way Pomni is almost sure even breathing a bit too hard could startle him— but he doesn’t stir at her movements, arms lazily wrapped around her small frame, and she can’t do much but let her fingers run gently on his fur and think…no, she’d just overthink, really, as usual.

(But she refuses to think about how he’d grabbed her in the middle of the night and curled around her as if she were a stuffed toy or something, leaving her stranded between his arms. At least discomfort had already completely faded from Jax’s expression by then, and she counted that as another win.)

The buzzing pain from before is still there, no longer running through her body like an electric discharge but settled in her left arm, somewhere deep under her porcelain-colored skin. It feels abnormal in a way she couldn’t really explain, quite similar to whatever happened to her hand on her first day, but less aggravated, almost…contained— except for the sudden, rare moments it glitches, pain flaring up so crudely she’d need every drop of self-control not to scream.

She hates it, whatever that is.
Maybe it’s her punishment.

There are noises outside her room, footsteps going down the hallway, voices from her friends leaving their own quarters, getting ready for yet another pointless day but she doesn’t focus on whatever they’re saying, shuts the noises down instead, turns in Jax’s arms to bury her face on his shirt (and she couldn’t remember when she’d talked Caine into letting them change clothes in their own rooms but she couldn’t be more grateful for her insistence). The rabbit is warm, breathing quiet but steadily, relaxed in a way she hasn’t really seen him before— only glimpses during their performance, too nimble to be really noticed.

(Her body is a treacherous little thing, and she’s resting a hand on his cheek before she could stop herself.)

And she hasn’t meant to fall asleep, really. She wanted to stay alert, to keep an eye on him in case anything happened again, to push away anyone who decided to knock on her door today of all days, but the exhaustion sitting on her bones had somehow allied with her never-ending guilt, quick to overcome her defenses— and for the first time she’s been feeling comfortable in her own bed, and the opportunity was a too rare one for her body to miss.

She jolts awake at the sudden feeling of her body falling, pure agony racking through her arm as it connects to the floor, a strangled noise escaping her lips at the impact and sounding too loud in the quiet room— and it takes a long moment for her brain to reset, to really understand what’s going on, instincts kicking in and she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t even try to sit up; she just cradles her arm against her chest, allows herself to cry as if that’d be enough to make the pain ebb away.

“Pom?”

Her brain doesn’t recognize his voice right away but it registers hands on her body, pulling her close into something warm that seems to surround her completely, soothing the pain ever so slightly, and soon enough it’s nothing but a burning impression under her skin, her heartbeat pounding on the fragile area— and she decides not to focus on it anymore, forces herself to take a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

And it finally dawns on her it’s Jax holding her, his voice so cracked it almost doesn’t sound like him. He’s shaking under her, the hand in her back clutching so tightly at her shirt she’s almost sure it’s gonna rip off if she moves too much but the thought is gone in a second, replaced by something she couldn’t quite understand— so she doesn’t even try, just allows him to keep her close, wraps her good arm around his shoulders for support.

“Hey, it’s alright.” The jester manages to breathe after a moment, ignores the way he looks at her as if she’s lost her mind— and maybe she did, really. How couldn’t she, in a place like this? But she still offers a soft, tentative smile when she pushes away to stare at him. “I can kick your a$% some other day so we’re even.”

She pats his cheek playfully and it does grant her an unamused scowl.
Score.

There’s a small, logical part of her that argues that’s not something she should forgive this easily, how he keeps hurting her in more ways than she’d cared to count, and she shushes it down without sparing it too much thought. As horrible as it could sound to someone else, she’s grown used to Jax’s outbursts by now. Violence, caused on purpose or not, is something she’s come to expect from him. Besides, Pomni herself hasn’t been the prime example of a healthy, impeccable partner friend.

(They make each other worse, nothing but two problematic, traumatized idiots bonding over being chaotic for the love of the game, and she’s made peace with that.)

“Besides,” the jester takes a second to breath in again, forces herself to wiggle out of Jax’s grasp and stand up— there’s a blink-and-you-miss-it moment when he almost doesn’t let her go, fingers digging even deeper into her shirt before he drops his hands, following her movements to stand up as well. She wishes he’d kept holding her. “Falling out of a bed is nothing. I just hit my arm and… there’s something wrong with it. I think it glitched on yesterday’s adventure.”

(It did glitch, alright. Not on the adventure though, a quite lame race competition or whatever. But Jax doesn’t need to know that.)

And the rabbit is staring at her again, as if looking for something she can’t really bring herself to care about but a moment later he seems to give up, letting himself fall on her bed, groaning under his breath. He still looks dead on his feet, grin completely wiped from his face, ears so low it takes her a good amount of effort not to reach them— and she can see the bruises on them still, dark purple marks from where he’d been clutching the night before.

“How are you feeling?”

“Why do you care?” He barks out of habit, and Pomni is quick to notice how he recoils at his own tone, his gaze rolling over the entirety of her room only so he could avoid meeting her eyes. Right, they’re doing that again. She’d almost forgotten. “You’re the one glitching out, not me. Shouldn’t you be out there looking for Caine or something?”

And she should, really. That kind of pain is something she doesn’t want to experience ever again in her digital life, and she can feel herself shivering, the numbness on her arm ever too present but the buzzing had settled again, not as throbbing as before but still real enough for her not to forget about it. But looking for Caine meant risking crossing paths with the others, and the last thing she wants is to explain herself.

Instead she crosses the small distance between them, plops on her bed, knees against her chest as if that’d be enough to… she can’t really say, not right now. The rabbit isn’t looking at her, but his body is tense beside her, and for a long minute they don’t say anything, Pomni rolling out the last reminiscences of pain, Jax’s eyes lost on a letter cube resting on the floor, too quiet, almost a rigid statue by her side.

(They’re a f*@#$*&g mess.)

“Pom…”

“I—”

And of course they’d gather courage to try to speak up at the same time. Amazing. Jax almost laughs bitterly, humor lost in whatever’s going on since he woke up…or since last night, he’s not sure and he can’t bring himself to care. At least his body feels… pretty decent, all things considered. There are gaps in his memory, his brain trying to recall what exactly happened for him to wake up on Pomni’s bed and failing miserably, always running back to the moment he noticed she was in his arms, how it’d felt good, it’d felt right to be there, holding her close.

(And then something shifted in her face, black spreading fast, multicolored eyes opening up at the same time to stare at him—)

He groans into his hands, pushes the disturbing image away from his mind, and guilt is quick to rear its ugly head. He hadn’t meant to shove her away like that, to get her hurt. Panic, pure and raw, took over his senses, threatening to choke him down. His eyes land on her arm, and it’s easy now to notice the soft, unnatural lines moving and twisting, like static on an old TV, and he resists the sudden urge to pull her close, to comfort her, because why would he?

(She hates being touched and they’re not friends.)

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is almost too quiet, gaze fixed on some part of her wall, hand aimlessly going up and down her glitching arm as if the pain is still bothering her, or maybe she’s just trying to soothe herself. “For not checking up on you earlier, when you didn’t show up for breakfast. I thought you were still mad and I didn’t want to push it.”

Not a single one of her words make sense to him but she’s so sincere it finally makes him break out of his static trance, his head snapping in her direction so fast he could swear he’s heard his neck almost breaking, his pupils so big she couldn’t even see the yellow in his eyes.

“What?”

Pomni is staring at him now, confusion so obvious on her face it almost hurts. He’s been pretty sure he’d done nothing to her, didn’t even say anything the past days because she kept sticking to others instead and he’d grown tired of pranking her, Zooble’s threat looming over his head. She was the one that decided to give him the cold shoulder, why is she talking like he kicked her puppy or something?

“After the circus adventure?” She offers after a heartbeat, as if that’d magically explain everything, but he keeps quiet, keeps staring, and she shifts uncomfortably on the bed, wriggling her hands as she always does when she’s anxious— when did he start picking up those little details anyway? It doesn’t matter. “I called you, and you just ignored me. I figured you needed more time after everything.”

The silence that stretches between them is heavy with tension, too much information and feelings Jax couldn’t really grasp trying to assault him in a too short period of time. But she’s holding his gaze now, her expression too open, too honest, hurt by something he didn’t even comprehend— and he can almost feel his brain short-circuiting, still unable to really understand what she’s talking about. Maybe he’s still too tired…

“You just… walked away.”

Then it finally clicks in his brain. She must’ve spotted him the moment he stormed away from Zooble, anger too loud in his ears to hear anything but his own poisonous thoughts; and it should make sense, maybe, for Pomni to stay away, but a small part of him rages at that thought, at the idea she doesn’t trust him enough to even go after him anymore— and why does it matter? He doesn’t care, he shouldn’t care at all. She’s better off with Ragatha, or Zooble, or even Kinger.

(He has nothing to offer, no more than an archetype broken in too many pieces.)

“Are you f&*#%@g serious right now?”

He hasn’t meant to snap.

But again, he keeps doing a lot of things he’s never meant to and that shouldn’t be surprising in the slightest, it shouldn’t hurt so much to grasp how he easily keeps losing control of himself, of the little things around. It gets harder and harder to keep the mask around her and it’s not fair, it’s not fair at all. He shouldn’t have gotten close to her. He should’ve pushed her away before, should’ve treated her just like he treats everyone else, just another plaything to use until he was bored of her reactions.

(Why, why did he need to be so stupid?)

And he jolts from the bed, a string of hysterical, humorless laughter racking through his body. Why did he ever think she was different anyway? Why did he even care to think about her, to get so close? It’s pointless, everything in this place is pointless and he shouldn’t have expected her to see more of him—

“It’s all my fault, isn’t it?!”

Pomni is standing too when he looks back at her, her gaze defiant but she’s trembling, it’s too obvious to notice. She’s too open, too easy to read, to push around and break into too many pieces. It’s almost disgusting, really.

(She looks hurt. Good.)

“I didn’t say that!”

(She didn’t need to. He’s not stupid.)

He’s towering over her now, leaning down to get as close as he could, and there’s a fleeting, bubbling need to grab her and shake some sense into her head, urgent and almost too hard to ignore but he pushes it away, keeps his hands to himself— his smile is crooked, too wide, too twisted and maybe, just maybe that’s enough to…

(To what? Make her hate him even more? It doesn’t matter.)

“So because you thought I was mad at something you made up in your stupid little head it means you can blame me for that, because that’s all I am, right? I’m the villain, right?!” And he spats the word louder than he’d intended, and some part of his stupid brain reacts at Pomni flinching, tries to make him shut up but he can’t, he just can’t. “Maybe I should be! That’s what EVERYONE wants anyway, so you all will feel great when I abstract!”

(She should’ve let him abstract, really.)

“You walked away! YOU!” She’s yelling too, a bright mix of frustration and anger plastered on her jester face, unshed tears making her expression even more painful to watch. Sometimes it’s easy to forget she could always match his anger and elevate it tenfold, too used to being able to push Gangle and others around— Pomni is anything but a pushover, and maybe that’s why he felt so… so what? “What did you expect me to think?!”

“That not everything I do or say in this place is about you! You’re NOT that special!”

And he sees the exact instant her retort dies on her lips, replaced by a pained gasp, her arm glitching in and out of existence for but a split second, no longer than that— it’s terrifying still, and he feels his stomach drop to his feet, dread quick, too quick to set in, but it doesn’t compare to the unnamed feeling spreading through his body when she recoils from his hand as he tries to hold her, cradling her arm against her chest as if his touch alone would just bring her more pain.

It hurts more than anything his body went through last night.

“I’m not your enemy, Jax.” She’s sitting on her bed again, voice soft, tears threatening to fall from her pinwheel eyes but she doesn’t allow herself to cry— and he’s doing it again, isn’t he? Hurting her, making her cry because he’s an idiot, because he can’t decide if he wants her around or not. And she keeps trying, keeps pushing again and again. It’s exhausting, for both of them. “And I’m sorry for making you think I am.”

Jax lets out a quivering sigh, anger suddenly gone from his system, leaving him tired and deflated; and something seems to have possessed him, his body moving on its own accord, and it’s too late to back down when his mind finally catches up— because he just got close to her again, sitting on the floor between her legs, head resting on her shoulder. But Pomni doesn’t flinch away this time, resting a hand on his back instead, and he closes his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be an accountant, Pompom, not a therapist.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, something within him still lashing out. He hates it, how easily she goes around looking and finding every part of him he tried to lock away. It’s unfair.

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to be one if you weren’t so emotionally constipated.”

There’s a quiet, friendly hint of amusement in her voice, and he’s not sure if he should be offended by her retort— not that he has time to really think about it, not when there’s a hand on the base of his ear, massaging the (still) sore area gently and he can’t help but melt under her touch, the argument all but forgotten, pushed away deep into his mind and buried under all the crap he couldn’t bring himself to care about. It’s comforting to be this close to her, just existing and nothing else.

“I’m sorry.” Pomni offers after a minute, her hand leaving his ear to rest on his back again, and Jax almost groans at the sudden lack of comfort. “For everything I’ve said and done. I guess I wanted to hurt you just as much as you hurt me.”

And then she’s pulling him even closer, her other hand cupping his face— and a shockwave of warmth spread through his body without notice as if he’s been hit by a train, her lips pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead but it’s more than enough to make his stupid brain shut down right then and there, the purple on his face replaced by two different kinds of pink. She’s giggling somewhere above him, and he’s stuck in place, wondering if it’d be a good plan to dig a hole right on her floor and just die in it.

Maybe that’s exactly what he should do.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

In the end, they agreed to just go back to bed, their arguments and fights and everything else lost in the unusual tranquility lingering, bodies heavy with last reminiscents of something she never wants to think about again and a throbbing glitch that refuses to dissipate. But Jax is Jax, any glimpse of vulnerability washed out of him as if it never existed in the first place, and there’s only so much she can do before he shuts her out and force-reset their game, right back into square one as if apologies and forgiveness meant nothing, or haven’t been offered nor accepted, and Pomni only takes pride in convincing him to sleep on her floor instead of rotting away in his own room, at least for tonight, making him a soft nest bed out of extra blankets and pillows.

(And of course they wouldn’t share a bed again, because why would they? He’d shoved her out of bed the moment he woke up, and she can still feel little bursts of pain in her arm on where she landed on it earlier. Does it look worse? Maybe. She can’t really tell.)

Her bed feels surprisingly huge, the blankets too cold to her touch when she finally pushes herself on the mattress, a feeling that doesn’t dissolve when she hugs her pillow tight against her chest— it only gets ten times worse when Jax turns off the lights and finally lays on his makeshift bed. There’s something bubbling up deep within her avatar and she blames it on the glitch, ignores the familiarity of a feeling that never made sense in the real world, let alone in a place like this.

(And it’s Jax, for f&*#’s sake. That should be enough to shut down any stupid feeling trying to get a hold of her.)

But… what happened during the traveling circus adventure had been special, almost intimate in a way she’s never experienced before. If she squinted enough, she could practically convince herself they got even closer, that maybe they could actually get a decent friendship out of the whole ordeal— and then she turns around and almost ruins it completely because of a stupid misunderstanding. She’d allowed herself to trust him to catch her midair, but not to believe he could’ve enjoyed the adventure as well.

(You’re a f*#&!%g idiot, little clown.)

She hugs her pillow tighter, pressing her face against it to let out a muffled, frustrated groan, trying to be careful not to disturb her new temporary roommate. There’s no point in overthinking, no point in letting herself get dragged right into memories she doesn’t want to think about right now or ever, and a small, logical part of her brain knows that— the damage had been done already, but the thought that something worse would’ve happened burns like hot acid in the pit of her stomach.

“Careful with your arm, toots.” Jax’s voice cuts through the darkness, lower than usual, a hint of what seems to be genuine concern too easy for her to notice— she pretends it doesn’t send a shiver down her spine. “It’s still early. We can go find Caine and get that patched up.”

The offer takes her aback for a moment, his words hanging, and she turns around to look at him to make sure it was Jax talking to her, not some sort of digital hallucination. ‘We’. Not just her wandering aimlessly around the circus trying to track a ringmaster that might or might not be there to listen. He’s offering to go with her despite looking comfortable in the makeshift bed, his eyes lazily resting on her face, just waiting for an answer.

(A treacherous part of her mind wants to cling to that little, meaningless thing as if it’s really important.)

“No, it’s alright.”

And it is, really. Caine can’t really help with her never-ending frustration, and leaving the room right now means risking walking into someone else— and it’d most likely involve a lot of explanation and her brain, as burned out as it is, wouldn’t be able to come up with any plausible excuses. Jax could help, but he looks as drained as she feels, even more so, and she doubts anyone would buy anything coming from him even on his best days.

He shrugs in response, gaze finally leaving her face to rest at some random spot of her room she couldn’t really see, the silence heavy with a strange kind of tension— his ear twitches at noises outside, footsteps going down the hallway, but no one stops at her door to knock. No one stops at his door, either. It makes her stomach turn, that vile feeling sitting right on her core clawing within. If she hadn’t decided to check on him... 

“Pomni?” He snaps her out of her dangerous thoughts again, voice tentative, barely a whisper, as if going above that would somehow summon Ragatha or Zooble right at her door— and his hand closes on hers gently, impossibly so for someone like him, and she just holds her breath, waiting. “Thank you.”

He’s not going to say anything else. He doesn’t need to, really. She knows exactly what’s hidden behind those simple words, and for a moment she almost wishes he was holding more than her hand. But he isn’t, and the jester doesn’t want to push her luck much more than that— it doesn’t stop her from intertwining their fingers, cheeks burning in at least three different shades of pink but at least it’s dark enough for it not to embarrass her to death.

“Anytime. Goodnight, Jax.”

“Night, Pom.”

The panic reverberating through his body is familiar, deep enough to shock him awake, memories of what was probably a nightmare vanishing at each passing moment but the fear is still there, constricting his breath, clinging to his bones like a second skin, his heart pounding against his chest. This isn’t his room, he’s not in his bed and that only makes the dread heavier, static growing louder and louder in his ears, he needs to get out, to get back to safety but his room isn’t safe anymore, is it? There’ll be something in the shadows, waiting, getting closer and closer until he had nowhere to run to—

(A soft, pained gasp ripples through someone else close by, his ears twitching at a noise that’s both recognized and despised.)

His eyes land on a familiar figure by his side, the last cracks of a glitching impossible to miss in the dark, his fur bristling by simply being close enough to touch— and that he does, body moving before his mind could follow, hand wrapping on hers. There’s a bite of almost feral pain running up his arm, her hand deforming out of existence and threatening to take him with her but he endures anyway, his hold tight; it lasts for no more than a second but dang did it work to calm him down, and he clings to Pomni, runs his fingers on her skin gently.

(The glitch had spread all the way down to her hand now. That can’t be good.)

“Pom?”

And he almost cringes at how soft his voice is, almost as if he doesn’t want to wake her up— and maybe he doesn’t, really. It’s better his way, to climb onto her bed and under the blankets when she’s not awake to notice, and he curls around her easily, traps her under his arms and safe against him. It feels… unusual, verging on uncanny, to be this gentle to someone, to not be on guard, his ‘funny one’ mask forgotten for a moment, leaving only the shadow of a person he couldn’t recognize anymore, someone terrified to the core, always ready to lash out.

(How could she care about someone something so damaged, so shattered?)

Jax shakes his head, forces his thoughts not to wander down that road just yet, just lets his body relax, fingers running up and down her back mindlessly, the quiet, constant rhythm of her heartbeat against his chest more than enough to wash away any lingering panic trying to still cling to him. It’s embarrassing to let himself feel so comfortable like this, humiliating even— a little voice in the back of his mind stirs, whispering how she’d just run to the others and tell them everything, how pathetic he is and had been, how she could twist him around her fingers as if he were her plaything and not the other way around.

(But she’s not a plaything anymore, is she?)

The little voice is a liar most of the time and he knows that. Pomni had seen him on his lowest, dragged him out of that hole he’d dug for himself and didn’t look at him any differently— no pity, no mockery. She’d refused to tell him what she’d seen in his room last night, refused to fill the gaps in his memory except for how she even got in: heard a loud noise when she was coming back to her room, knocked on his door until her impatience grew too large and she just broke in, the exact hows and whens lost in the chaos that followed.

Not that he cares too much.

He shouldn’t care at all yet here he is, in her bed again by his own volition, curled around her like a child clinging to a beloved toy, and for the first time in…he can’t even remember how long it’s been, really. But it’s been a long time since he’s felt this serene, a long time since he’s felt…wanted. It’s dumb, nothing but sleep still wrapped around his senses and talking over his logic, brain still fighting to push away the last vestiges of a bone-deep exhaustion out of his code. And maybe, just maybe he could allow himself to enjoy this, because whatever it is, it’s not gonna last and he knows that.

He’s too messed up. He bites and lies and pushes away because that’s what he’s supposed to do, because they’re nothing but a bunch of cartoon characters and nothing really matters, and if he keeps telling himself that, it won’t hurt when everything gets bad, it won’t hurt when he loses someone else. And Pomni isn’t like that at all. She still clings to a reality that doesn’t exist anymore, to an idea of humanity they no longer have. Sooner or later she’d understand he’s not something she can fix, and she’ll just give up.

(Isn’t that what he wanted?)

And he sighs, chinning her hair out of instinct, his mind taking a moment to catch up with what his body is doing— it’s been happening a lot lately, him acting up before being able to stop himself; he shouldn’t feel like this about her (or anyone else, for all that matters) but he keeps getting closer, keeps letting her get close. She had climbed his walls to look behind and didn’t shy away from the ugly, desperate thing rotting away in there. It’s dumb, and she’s dumb, and he’s an idiot. A match made in hell or whatever the saying goes.

(Pomni’s breath shudders, another pained noise escaping her lips as the glitch flares up again for a blink of an eye, his own fur bristling with the sudden burst of static where her arm is resting on him.)

He should be looking for Caine to fix that, really. It’d be an easy fix too, just a snap of fingers as the ringmaster has done before, but leaving the room means a lot of things he doesn’t feel like dealing with for another year or so— like risking walking right into Ragatha or Zooble. He’d heard some commotion outside not so long ago, steps going up and down the hallway, everyone awake and an active threat because he’s sure they’d be asking about Pomni. If his senses are still working as they should, it’s been roughly two days since he isolated himself and an entire day of the jester’s absence.

(They wouldn’t care about him, of course. The only person that’d ever care to notice something about him in that damn circus is sleeping quietly in his arms.)

But the glitch is hurting her, nothing but another proof of how he shouldn’t be around her because all he can do is cause her more and more pain (a rabid animal always ready to bite, no more than that). Her lie had been cute, her efforts not to blame him more than appreciated, but he’s not stupid. He’s seen that before, felt that in his own skin. Not that she needs to know that anytime soon, or ever. Just another of those little things he’d take to his grave— or to the cellar, whatever happened first.

Right now, he should focus on the main problem. It’s impossible to really know the time, for how long he’s been holding her, and a small part of him hopes it’s been enough for Caine to have dragged everyone else into yet another stupid adventure, and the thought alone gives him the little boost of confidence he’s been waiting for. It takes him a little effort to disentangle himself from her arms, slow and careful not to wake her up— she doesn’t, but the soft, disappointed sigh she lets out is almost cute enough to make him hesitate.

First, leave her room without anyone spotting him.
Second, find Caine and tell him to fix her arm pronto.

Easy, really. Even a kid could pull that off.

(The bunny trinket attached to her key makes him stop for just a second. Too damn soft for a place like this.)

The hallway feels… eerily empty when Jax steps outside, the door clicking softly into place behind him. The best option would be to yell for Caine and cut his chase short, to just summon the ringmaster right where he needs to be but he has no idea if there’s an adventure happening— and that’s something he can get out of the way without too much effort, really.

The circus is quiet, nothing but the sound of his footsteps bouncing weirdly around the tent, or the constant fizzle of artificial lights above his head. There’s no one in the communal area when he turns a corner, the old TV turned off, one of Gangle’s sketchbooks abandoned on the couch and for once, he doesn’t feel tempted to mess with it. Maybe later, when Pomni is better and the others aren’t back from the adventure yet. No better moment to run around like an idiot looking for another, bigger idiot.

At least no one’s around to bear witness of how pathetic he can truly be.
And it’s for Pomni. She deserves that much.

(She’s hurt because of him.)

“CAINE!”

And the ringmaster pops into existence by his side in the very second, the noise so loud and so close to his ears that Jax can’t help but jolt back in terror, eyes wide and fixed on the AI’s stupid, always too cheerful face. The circus isn’t real, their bodies nothing but an endless pile of digits and numbers no one’d ever be able to comprehend but the migraine assaulting him feels very, very real right now.

“JAX! THERE YOU ARE, MY POMPOUS SUPERSTAR!” Caine sounds and looks extra cheerful today, a thin layer of manic energy clinging to him and… it doesn’t feel like a good sign, really. Not that there’s anything Jax could or would ever want to do about that, because what’s the point? “You’re a bit late for the adventure but—”

“No, I’m not here for your s—” Jax snaps a bit too quickly but his mind catches it before he could say anything else without thinking and it takes almost his entire energy reserve to hold back the insults, his patience running lower and lower by the second. “Amazing adventure.” He manages between gritted teeth. That was a good save. “But there’s something wrong with Pomni, like… in her code. Her arm is glitching.”

The ringmaster keeps floating midair for a second that seems to stretch for far longer than that, mismatched eyes wide and glued on Jax’s face— maybe looking for some hint of deception, like everyone else does whenever he says something. It doesn’t matter, not right now when Caine’s hand is suddenly grabbing his arm; the room melts into a spiral of colors and noises and lights, the pain in his head doubling at the ‘teleportation’, vertigo settling in as quickly as they’d traveled and he presses his lips shut, bending over, fingers digging deep into his knees to support himself.

(Right back to the hallway, it seems. Because of course they can’t walk.)

“A little warning would be great, Caine.”

Caine doesn’t respond, which is… very uncharacteristically of him. That’s never a good thing, and there’s been one too many things going awry in the circus for a very long time now, the bottomless amalgamation of eyes in the cellar more than enough proof of that. They don’t talk about how Caine would glitch every now and then, getting worse and worse every time someone pushes him too far, they don’t talk about how faulty and wrong the circus would look like sometimes (small cracks everywhere if one knew where to look, little things glitching and disappearing into the floor). They turn around and pretend not to see.

(Maybe if it falls apart they can finally go home.)

Chapter Text

Something is wrong.

He’s not sure why the thought crosses his mind when he pushes Pomni’s door open, but the words linger for far too long, his fur standing on end for some reason he can’t grasp just yet. The jester is still asleep, the silence in the room so soul-crushing he could almost mistake it for being nighttime again. But it’s not, and Pomni is a light sleeper. She should’ve been awake by now, Caine’s not-so-pleasant method of transportation always loud enough to wake up a dead body. She doesn’t even stir when he turns on the lights, her already small figure somehow looking smaller.

It makes his stomach turn, a repulsive taste sitting right on his tongue, one that has nothing to do with the dizziness Jax is still fighting off. He can feel the darkness in the corners closing in, its heaviness, its stillness, a twisted, horrifying thing with no name hiding in between, ready to lash out and tear their artificial reality into pieces but it waits, growing larger, feeding on itself— and the moment is gone, as if it never existed in the first place, just another thing to be shoved deep into the back of his mind, another nightmare to be forgotten.

(His lungs burn, and yet he holds his breath for a second longer.)

It’s Caine suddenly floating over Pomni that jerks him out of his torpor, the lack of… everything that makes the ringmaster his manic, loud self as clear as day. It’s a problem at best, terrifying at worst, and Jax forces his mind not to wander off that particular dangerous path just yet, snaps his attention back to the jester, approaching her bed in swift steps. Her form seems smaller somehow, lines upon lines of static glitching all over her arm, running up her skin— and then a giant glove wraps itself around him before he could even take a better look at her, dragging him away and out of her room, her door slamming shut the moment he was thrown into the hallway.

For a moment he just stands there, eyes glued to her stupid face on the sticker, his brain lagging, fighting the fog still there, still clinging tight. Pomni is…

The vile taste is back on his tongue, his stomach plummeting.

no

It’s just a stupid glitch. She’s just…

nonono—

Some part of him tries to reason Caine wouldn’t make a show of kicking him out of Pomni’s room if not to fix her up without being interrupted— but it’s a voice too small, too quiet, quickly overwhelmed by a flash of a memory he refuses to think about, his body reacting first, logic thrown out of the nearest digital window, fists pounding on the door but it doesn’t budge, sealed tight by a higher power. Even his key doesn’t work, and frustration grows at every second, panic lurking somewhere close by, threatening to rear its ugly head.

“CAINE! LET ME IN!”

Nothing but silence, heavy and coated in too many poisonous thoughts he needs to push away, his heartbeat getting too fast, too loud— a sudden flash of pain shoots through his skull, and only then he notices his fingers wrapped tightly around his tender, already sore ears, tugging hard still. It hurts, his brain quick to latch onto what he can feel, grounding him. Pomni is gonna be fine. It’s just a glitch, something stupid Caine’s dealt with before, nothing else. Sure, the way the ringmaster is behaving is far from… what anyone would expect, but maybe, just maybe it means nothing and Jax is making a pathetic fool of himself for absolutely no reason.

(God you’re so stupid…)

And he closes his eyes, tugs at his ears again for good measure, to shut that dumb voice up already but it keeps coming back. He shouldn’t care this much, he shouldn’t worry. This is nothing but a repetition of what happened with Ribbit; haven’t he learned his lesson already, for f[!&*]’s sake? They’re just characters stuck in a poorly developed game, being played over and over until novelty wears off, until they’re replaced by another character. They don’t matter, nothing really does so why, why did he let himself be so—

A soft click. The door slides open slowly, and that’s more than enough to snap him out of whatever was going on in his head, to jolt his body into action again, bolting into Pomni’s room before he could think too long about how stupid and desperate he’s probably looking— and the jester is awake, finally, sitting on her bed and staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, the blushes on her cheeks growing a bit darker than usual when their eyes meet.

At least her arm looks normal again. The rabbit feels himself releasing his breath, unsure of when he even started holding it in the first place, his smile a bit too wide on his face but he couldn’t care less.

“Good as new, eh Pompom?”

The nickname hits differently on her ears for some reason, and Pomni feels her face burning again, forcing her eyes away and on Caine again, rubbing her arm mindlessly. It doesn’t hurt anymore, the glitching gone from her skin and she should feel relieved, but the ringmaster is still floating in the middle of her room and that can’t be anything good. Jax must’ve noticed her anxiety spiking, moving so quietly she barely notices when he stops by her side, expression guarded for but a moment before smiling at the AI— sometimes it still surprises her how easily he falls back into his casual self, too many months…years? of experience and that… that’s the saddest thing she could ever think of.

(His worry is endearing. It’s unexpected because well, it’s Jax, but she appreciates it anyway.)

“Oh, yes of course, my dear grumpy sunshines!” Caine laughs, but it’s easy to notice there is something wrong still, his body slumped, and the jester can’t help but grip at her arm, testing— pain doesn’t flare up like before, the buzzing of energy quiet, vanished but there’s something else, something she can’t name nor reach, and it makes her stomach drop. “The virus has been almost completely annihilated! But human codes are very intricate, so hard to work on!!”

Pomni blinks once, twice.
Jax tenses up, fists clenching.

“The what now?”

“NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, MY DEAR JESTER!” The ringmaster laughs again, louder and more desperately than before. He’s scared, and that on itself is more than enough to make her feel like throwing up. “It got loose on your code and it did a bit of damage, nothing the greatest Caine couldn’t fix—” Caine puffs his chest out, surprisingly proud of himself. “The virus broke down when I was getting rid of it, but it’s completely harmless now!”

Pomni allows herself to look for Jax’s gaze, the sound of his foot thumping fast against her carpet loud enough to betray his too friendly smile. He doesn’t meet her eyes, too focused on Caine to really notice— but she’s glad he’s here, even if he’ll just deflect later, denying he’s worried, that he cares. There’s a small flicker of satisfaction at that sudden realization, and she doesn’t stop herself from reaching out, holding his hand, watching in almost slow motion how the rabbit tenses again only to relax a moment later.

(He is the one that gives her a comforting, soft squeeze before letting go. She counts that as another win in her book.)

“As I was saying!” Caine continues, oblivious to their struggles, and she’s not sure if she should be grateful or not for his utter mess of attention span. “Human codes are very messy! It’ll take me days to scan yours and make sure the virus is wiped out completely! DAYS! Oh, how are you feeling?”

“Uh, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“WONDERFUL! I’ll be able to remove the little parasite soon enough, but I’m afraid you won’t be allowed into any of the adventures until the problem is dealt with.” Caine seems to shrink at his own words for a moment, disappointment so clear in his eyes it’s hard not to feel bad— only for it to be replaced by something she couldn’t really name, his booming laughter reverberating through her room. “I had an amazing idea!! YOU—“ and he pokes Pomni’s forehead. “Just got a PROMOTION! Congratulations, Pomni!”

“Eh?”

“You’re now my OFFICIAL adventure suggestion box ORGANIZER!” The ringmaster laughs once more, beaming with pride at his ‘amazing idea’, snapping his fingers— and sure enough the suggestion box falls in the middle of her room with a loud thud, so full of paper pieces it’s a surprise it didn’t break at the impact, followed by a stream of what appears to be office materials; pencils and pens rolling all over the floor, notebooks piling up in a smaller, unlabeled box, and the pure absurdity of this whole situation just makes her laugh.

“So, uh… what am I supposed to be doing?” She moves her attention back to Caine, almost jumping out of her skin at Bubble just materializing into existence right in her face— there’s a feral urge to pop him trying to take over her hands but she tunes it down, keeps her fingers wrapped around her arms to prevent it.

“YOU GOTTA F[!*@$%]G CLEAN UP CAINE’S MESS!”

There’s a long, drawn out silence before Caine does exactly what Pomni is so, so tempted to do, and Bubble is gone in a soft swirl of confetti.

“AS I WAS SAYING!” The ringmaster moves in the air, cane pointing at the mess of papers and materials now decorating her floor. That sure is gonna be a pain to clean up later. “Since your little feedback seems to be doing WONDERS for my adventures, no one’s better suited to make all of these—” and he points at the suggestion box, and Pomni just pretends not to see it coughing out some papers. “More fit for my list of INCREDIBLE adventures that need to be finished!”

Oh, right. She did give him some feedback that was actually taken into consideration, and even better, the others haven’t been complaining as much as before. But being in charge of turning who-knows-how-many suggestions into something the AI could actually work with without feeling demoralized? That sounds… okay, all things considered. It sounds more like an office job, something she used to have back when the world made any sense and her body and mind weren’t threatening to give up on her every other day. She’s been dealing with far worse, and the idea of having something so… human to do is very, very appealing.

(And it could be even better if she had some company…)

“Can I, uh…” And the jester wriggles her hands together, trying to come up with the right words for that without sounding desperate— because she is not, thank you very much. It just feels right, after everything he’s been through the past days. “Maybe someone should stay behind to keep an eye on me? To watch if the, uh, virus gets worse again? I’m sure you’ll be very busy with all the adventures and fixing me up…”

And she can sense Jax glaring at her.
She keeps her trained gaze on Caine, the ringmaster freezing midair for a brief moment.

“OH MY, YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT MY DEAR POMNI!”

Well, that was fast. And easy.
(Maybe Caine does like them a bit more if they smooth his ego.)

“JAX! You just got a PROMOTION AS WELL!”

And it takes her every inch of willpower not to chuckle at Jax’s low groan, offering him a too innocent smile when she finally meets his eyes but whatever he was about to say to her is forgotten, Caine’s customary snap echoing a bit too loud; it’s easy to feel something shifting in her room and it takes her a second to figure out the bed had changed under her, feeling larger than before, a weird shadow cast over her head when there was none and Pomni can’t help but peek up, trying to make sense of the sudden modification— it’s a bunk bed now. Even the room itself feels a bit bigger than before, and realization dawns on her like an ice bucket.

She’s got a roommate.

(If looks could kill, she’d be dead two minutes ago, that’s for sure.)

“Oh my, look at the time! It seems the others are ready to wrap up their adventure!”

Caine is gone as if he’s never been in her room, confetti falling ever so gently from the spot he was. Jax keeps glaring at the bunk bed as if it’s kicked his puppy or wronged him in some way or another, the silence back to the room and filling it too quickly, overwhelming because maybe, just maybe she shouldn’t have expected to do anything right just for a change— it makes guilt climb on her back, clinging on her shoulders. 

“You don’t need to stay.” The words escape her easily, eyes glued to her carpet as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room and it might as well be. Jax is looking at her again, she can feel it, but there’s only so many mixed feelings she can deal with right now. “I just thought you’d like to skip a few adventures too. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything, and she half expects him to just leave, to disappear into his room and pretend nothing happened in the past… two? days. That’s what he does, isn’t it? He runs away, hides in his burrow and pretends he doesn’t feel anything. Instead the rabbit moves around, and Pomni can only watch as he picks up pencils and papers, dropping them on the second box, pushing notebooks aside to make room for the materials, actually organizing (or trying to) the mess Caine left behind.

(He’s… infuriating, to say the least, with his stupid, silent mood swings.)

“Where do I drop this?”

“Huh?” It takes her mind a second to catch up with reality, and only then she notices Jax carrying the suggestion box, staring at her, waiting. “Oh, right. Under the desk, please.” And he just nods, nudging the chair out of his way to drop the box where she’d pointed, the materials box being kicked into place just as easily. It does look like a perfect spot for her… new “job”. It’s better than being stuck in Caine’s adventures. “Thanks.”

Jax offers no more than a shrug, looking as tired as she feels, even after who knows how many hours of sleep; there’s something about his ears, too. Too droopy, the dark marks from before looking even darker, and she feels the urge to throw something at his face but the thought comes and goes quickly, leaving her with nothing but a quiet resignation. She’ll never understand him, not really.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?”

His ears perk up at the suggestion and she can’t help but smile.
(He’s a white puzzle but she’s getting better at those.)

Chapter Text

“What do you think happened?”

The question escapes her too easily, before Pomni could really think it over, the silence in the digital kitchen an open invitation for her thoughts to run off and make a mess on her mind. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about it, just let Caine deal with whatever’s wrong with her code, but the bizarreness of it all makes it really hard for her not to ponder. Jax doesn’t respond right away but she doesn’t miss how his muscles tense up, how he stops chopping an onion for just a second before resuming the task at hand as if she hasn’t said anything.

(She has no idea what he’s cooking but she’s not about to butt in at all. She’s more than fine with sitting on the counter, watching him.)

“I don’t know.” He finally admits, his voice lower than usual, lacking any of his usual grit; and there’s something in the back of her mind that feels a little bit satisfied at finally being able to see more of him than he lets on day after day after day. It’s not going to last, this little moment of fragile peace, and she’s fine with that. “Never seen that happen before. The virus, I mean. Caine’s always been able to fix it right away.”

She hums softly, her eyes landing on her hand for a moment, trying to pick her brain for any remaining memories of how she’d felt on that first day— but there’d been a lot going on, panic and horror clinging to each and every moment of that nightmare, so much anger and fear that pain eventually subdued into nothing but another thing lost in the turmoil. She knows it had hurt, but she can’t determine how badly.

“I mean, he did fix my hand.” She sighs, wriggling her fingers as if they’d just disappear from her hand if she talked too much, and Jax finally looks at her, eyes shining in confusion. “On my first day.”

“Eh? Didn’t know old Kaufy got you.”

Oh, that’s right. Jax had fled the moment he’d seen what’d been left of someone she never got to meet. In retrospect, his reaction had been understandable, if not a bit insulting because maybe, just maybe you shouldn’t leave anyone at the mercy of a giant mass of broken code, especially when it’s their first day in a digital hellscape— but she’d done the same, hasn’t she? She’d left Ragatha. Coming back after the damage was done felt hollow, wrong. But at least she did go back.

“He got Ragatha. I tried to help her.”

“Of course you did.” His tone is still flat but she can still hear the sharpness in his voice, something acidic, almost poisonous dangling on every word; it almost makes her feel like being in the gunfight adventure again, their fight getting worse and worse. She shifts in the counter to stare at him, but his eyes don’t meet hers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just think it’s funny.” He shrugs, moving around the kitchen with ease as if he owns the place but it’s easy to notice him growing restless, tail twitching angrily every now and then, foot tapping loudly against the floorboard whenever he stands still for too long, even with his hands busy. “You getting all beaten up because you keep trying to help people. Do you think she’d have helped you?”

It’s a trap, and a poorly laid one at that.

“Does it matter?”

“You can’t expect me to believe you risked getting abstracted for someone you didn’t even like just out of the kindness of your heart.” He’s not talking about Ragatha, and she knows that. Jax is anything but stupid, and her silence, her refusal to talk surely had been more than enough for him to put the pieces together— but if she doesn’t talk, it’s easier to push it away, to pretend nothing happened. “Is that your archetype, Pom? Being the hero? Does it make you sleep better at night?”

He’s trying to push her buttons now to make her tick, bringing that day back as if it doesn’t keep resonating within her every single time he acts like this. Unfortunately for him, his opportunity to push her away completely had come and gone weeks ago and he’d missed it, and she’s getting pretty good at dealing with his emotional rollercoaster. It sucks, it’s exhausting, wearing her down over and over, but what else is she supposed to do now?

“I don’t need you babysitting me, if that’s bothering you so much.”

“‘s not.” He pushes a plate onto her hands, still refusing to look at her. It’s maddening, really, and for a moment she feels too tempted to throw the piece right at his face. She doesn’t, deciding to settle the plate by her side and chew on the ‘fresh’ food instead, but the thought lingers still. “I don’t get you.”

(And he says that like it’s something disgusting that he needs to get rid of.)

“Why?” He’s too close now, and Pomni hasn’t even noticed when he moved, resting too comfortably between her legs, caging her between his arm because of course he would, boundaries completely non-existent in his mind but some part of her doesn’t bother; it feels good, reassuring even to have him this close, and something shifts in the pit of her stomach. “Why did you help me?”

So that’s what is bothering him. His mind sure is something special more often than not, too much time spent in that circus, too much trauma he’d rather abstract thrice instead of talking about, and she knows better than pretend, even for a moment, that she could fix anything. There’s only so much she can say and do to someone that refuses to be helped— but she can stay, even if it hurts.

(She doesn’t notice her body moving on its own, hands resting on his cheeks.)

“Because I care about you.”

He scoffs and tsks, eyes quickly leaving her face but he doesn’t back away from her touch just yet.

“That doesn’t mean anything. You helped Ragatha when you didn’t even know her.”

Sometimes she wonders who exactly hurt him so much, if it was Ragatha or someone else entirely, someone who’s been gone for god knows how long but the ripples of their wrongdoings keep echoing still.

“I ran away from Ragatha. I came back, sure, but I still left her.” Her voice is too soft, as if speaking louder than that would somehow summon the ragdoll in the middle of the kitchen and break the spell keeping them this close, keeping him eager to talk and listen. “I didn’t run from you.”

Jax quiets down for a too long second, pupils so dilated it’s almost impossible to find any hint of the yellow in his scleras.

“I hurt you.”

(If he’s talking about her arm or about any other situation, she doesn’t know and can’t bring herself to care that much.)

“You did.” Pomni shrugs, her fingers moving softly on his face, rubbing his skin, brushing his fur, and he shudders under her touch. “And I hurt you back.”

Jax stays still for a moment, something unreadable passing by his eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat, the rabbit moving even closer, resting his head on the crook of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Her hands leave his face only to run around him, landing on his back, keeping him in an awkward hug— he’s shaking, foot thumping so loud it feels echoing within her.

“You did.” His voice is barely a whisper against her skin, something fluttering at the bottom of her stomach and she pushes it away, pretends not to feel anything— but he might’ve noticed something, because he moves back ever so slowly, searching for her gaze, and there’s a hint of amusement in his smile, one she’s not sure she likes or not. “I didn’t know you were into toxic relationships, Pompom. I’d have made it much worse for you.”

That sure works the way he wanted because it feels like an ice bucket washing over her, the peaceful spell finally broken. The annoyed groan she lets out is loud, matching his stupid laughter, and she shoves his face away easily, rolling her eyes as he stumbles back and away from her. To his defense, she shouldn’t have been expecting him to keep a serious conversation for longer than five minutes.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

She glares at him, scandalized, as if he just stated she’s naked in the middle of a full room, and it only makes him laugh harder— she does not think about how he just said she looks cute.

“I’m not pouting.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

The conversation dies down, Jax once more focusing on cooking, agitation completely gone from his system; she can see his tail wiggling almost happily, his body relaxed, and it’s too hard to stay mad at him for too long. She chews on her food instead, content in just watching him. They’re both a mess, that’s for sure. He’s broken in too many ways it’s impossible not to get hurt trying to pick up the pieces and she bleeds all over them but god it’s worth it.

He’s worth it.

Chapter Text

Jax is the worst at some things and the very best at others. That definitely includes being absolutely dogs[!&$] in talking about his feelings, which he’d rather kiss Zooble in their metaphorical mouth before even sharing an iota of what’s going through his dumb rabbit brain, and being extremely professional in disappearing in thin air when Pomni needs him the most— especially when it includes walking into Ragatha. He’s gone before the jester can even notice the doll waving at her, a smile never really reaching her eyes, and only then Pomni realizes Jax is nowhere to be found.

(Strangling him to death sounds like the best next course of action right now.)

“Hey Pomni.”

Ragatha’s voice is gentle as always, almost tentative, as if she doesn’t know what to say, and Pomni wishes she could just walk away and avoid this conversation altogether. Maybe she could ask Jax to teach her how to dig a hole on the ground and disappear into it. There’s something nagging in the back of her mind just screaming she’s not going to enjoy the next few minutes, but there’s nothing else she can do except ignore it and focus on the ragdoll. 

“Are you alright? You didn’t show up for breakfast yesterday or today, and Caine didn’t even drag you into the adventures so…”

Oh, right. She hadn’t really thought of how long they’ve been locked up in her room after everything that’s happened, and maybe it’s better not to dwell too much. If she doesn’t think, what she’s seen in his room has no name, it’s not real, nothing but a digital hallucination caused by too many restless nights. Still her fingers curl around her arm, half-expecting pain to burn into her skin but it never happens, and the jester just offers a soft smile that means nothing, hoping it’ll be enough for Ragatha to leave her alone.

(It’s not, and she knows that, but the thought lingers.)

“I’m fine. Just needed some time to clear my head.”

“Oh, I understand.” Ragatha keeps smiling, but there’s something about her expression that’s not just right, her lips almost twisting into a scowl she’s fighting really hard against. Always too nice, trying too hard. “Dealing with Jax can be really… difficult.”

The doll’s words shouldn’t be surprising in the slightest but it still makes Pomni tense up, needing a too hot second to remember she’d actually been on not so good terms with the rabbit for the past week or so and everyone’d seen it. The circus, despite its size, is still small, and their little ‘family’ is even smaller but she’d hoped that someone would’ve noticed them both missing at the same time and figured out that something was going on. It’s not like they even tried to check on Jax. Three days and no one even knocked on his door. The thought makes her stomach churn and she pushes it away quickly, suddenly too tempted to massage her temples as if that’d be enough to keep away a migraine that’s ready to assault her anytime soon.

“No, it’s not that. We’re good.” And Pomni knows she doesn’t need to explain herself to anyone, lest to Ragatha, but she can’t help but enjoy a little drop of vindication at seeing the doll’s smile falter. “I figured I could skip some adventures since Zooble does that all the time. Jax just tagged along, I guess, and we talked.”

(It’s not like any of them had complained about him missing. They’re probably glad he hasn’t been around.)

She bites down on her tongue.

“Right.” Ragatha drags the word for a bit too long, her good eye zipping around for a moment as if expecting someone to walk into them, fidgety and anxious. It drives Pomni up the wall. “So you talked to Jax. T-That’s good. I was worried about him too, so…”

(Ragatha is many things. A good liar isn’t one of those.)

“Yea. We’ve been…”

Pomni feels herself motioning at nothing, as if that alone could explain what they’ve been doing. And what have they been doing, really? Fighting over the most stupid misunderstandings again? Making amends? Cuddling? And the thought alone is more than enough to make her stop dead in her tracks, channeling all her self-control not to let her face betray her and show all the embarrassment quickly taking over her.

“Talking. A lot.” Like that’s not suspicious either.

“Oh. That, uh…” And Ragatha’s face contorts in that tight, strange smile. “That’s great, Pomni.” She doesn’t sound like she feels that information particularly great, but Pomni keeps her mouth shut. “I’m glad you guys are doing well.” She’s not, and that’s so obvious it’s almost painful to watch. “Just… I don’t think you should get so involved with him. Jax isn’t a good person. He’s selfish and only cares about himself. I’d hate to see him hurting your feelings.”

The rage that flares up within her stomach is uncalled for, too quick to burn through her, and Pomni needs a hot second to take a deep breath and steady herself, already done with the conversation. And she gets it, she really does. Everyone else villainizing Jax is his doing alone, a bed he’s been making for god knows how long and keeps adding more and more things to the pile, and he doesn’t care about laying on it, doesn’t care about burning every bridge he crosses. But she cares, and that’s what baffles her the most.

Because she knows he’s much more than a cartoon character he desperately wants everyone else to see.

“I’m sorry,” The jester is not, and the apology means nothing at all. It won’t soften the blow she’s about to throw at Ragatha, it won’t magically make things better once she speaks, but she can at least say she attempted to be nice. “But I don’t think I asked for your opinion. If I want to spend time with Jax, and I do, it’s my call.”

And Ragatha goes stiff, something unreadable shining on her good eye— and she looks ready to cry, lips wobbling, and for a moment Pomni almost regrets even stopping by to talk to her. Nothing good ever comes out of talking to the doll when it involves Jax, but what can she do when she’s not the one dragging his name into the conversation anyway? Let them — Ragatha, mostly — talk s[!@#] about him as if their distrust would somehow rub off on her? Then what, should she watch him isolating more and more until…

The jester shakes her head, forces the idea out of her mind before it takes root again.

(She shouldn’t feel this protective when she knows he deserves to be pushed aside, but she does.)

“See you later, Ragatha.”

And it’s easy to finally escape the conversation, Ragatha still too stunned to really notice Pomni waving and almost running away. The ragdoll will be talking about this to others, and the jester couldn’t care less. At least Zooble will either have her back or won’t get involved at all, and that’s a small win on her notebook. The circus feels strangely quiet even with everyone back from yet another adventure she doesn’t want to know about, somehow bigger, emptier even with all the props and secrets hidden in every crack. And thankfully she doesn’t walk into anyone else on her way back to her room, quick to slip inside and lock the door behind her, sighing.

“You look like Rags tried to bite your head off.” Jax’s voice is too casual, his tone too amused, and Pomni almost jumps out of her skin at the sudden noise, snapping her head to try to find the rabbit— and of course he’s sprawled on her bed, eyes closed, limbs falling out of a mattress too small for his size, his s[!$&]-eating grin plastered on his stupid face.

(She’s totally forgotten about them being roommates now.)

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“Huh?” He opens only one eye to give her a thoughtful look, his lazy smile growing larger; he’s not moving, and he knows she knows. “Nah, this one is definitely mine.”

Oh. So that’s what they’re doing now. She scoffs, nothing but amusement at his unexpected wave of foolishness washing away every drop of anger still stuck on her code— and she’d missed that, really. His prankster side can be quite funny sometimes, and if he’s in such a good mood to poke and prod at her, she’s not gonna complain too much. It’s easier to play along, to let him mess with her a bit. There’s a sense of normalcy in that, something she’s been missing and needing more than she’d ever admit.

“The blanket is red and blue.”

Jax just moves his head a bit to stare at the blanket, as if he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, before dropping back into her pillow, tucking an arm under his head, eyes shining with an almost child-like glint, making himself too comfortable in her bed. He’s enjoying it, punching her buttons, and she’s just letting him. Why is a good question, one she doesn’t have a good answer for.

“So what? Maybe those are my favorite colors. You never cared to ask about it.” And he brings a hand to his chest, blinking so slowly it’s almost comical, feigning hurt. “You’re not very considerate of your babysitter, Pompom.”

“Oh my god…” She takes a deep breath, pinches the area that’s supposed to be the bridge of her non-existent nose. The annoyance is there, sure, but her enjoyment at his antics is winning today, and she’s… okay with that, really. Not that she’s about to let him know that anytime soon, of course. “Fine. What’s your favorite color, Jax?”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She battles the urge to throw him straight into the void.

“Anyway, my bed now. I’m calling dibs.”

“I can’t even reach the top bunk, you prick.”

“Sounds like a skill issue to me, shortstuff.”

And he turns around, seemingly done with their little argument, laying on his side so she can’t even look at his dumb face anymore and Pomni can’t really decide if she should be bemused or stressed. Maybe a bit of both, really, but some part of her can’t commit to being that mad about his childish humor. It’s a lost battle anyway, and she’s not tired enough to even try to push him out of her bed to get some rest. Her eyes fall on her desk, and maybe, just maybe she should be working on those suggestions, at least for a little while. She can deal with Jax later.

He’d half expected Pomni to take his bait, to keep arguing with him until she got too stressed and kicked him out of bed— and he’d comply, really. She’d entered the room looking like Caine himself exploded her puppy, and Jax almost felt bad for ditching her when he noticed Ragatha. Almost. Being an a[$!@&*]e had been his way to ease her stress, to give it a new target but it didn’t last long, and the jester is just sitting at her desk now, his ears twitching at every soft rustle of papers, his curiosity not great enough for him to leave the comfort of her bed to check what she’s really doing.

“What do you think about a detective adventure?” It takes his bored brain a long second to understand Pomni’s question, and Jax shifts in her bed to look at her, trying to make sure she’s talking to him. And she is, looking over her shoulder. “Something up your alley?”

“I guess. It’s always better when I’m the killer, tho.” He shrugs, offering her a too wide smile, and Pomni just rolls her big eyes, moving her attention back to her desk. Why is she even asking him anyway? It doesn’t sound like something she’d enjoy, being a little buzzkill and all. “Do you really think Caine will use any of these?”

“He’s been using them for a while.”

That piques his interest, enough to make him push himself up and out of the bed, approaching the jester. The desk is a mess of crumpled papers, the small box by her side slowly being filled with smaller notes. He grabs one out of curiosity, not recognizing the handwriting. It must be Pomni’s then, and the simple ‘detective game’ scribbled makes him stare at her— but she’s too focused on her paper, rolling a pencil between her fingers, her cute face scrunched into something he can’t really name.

“Care to elaborate on that or am I supposed to read your mind?” He gives her jester hat a quick tug, chuckling at the bell jiggling— and she tries to swat his hand away, only for him to give the hat another tug. “Because I don’t think you’ve got a brain inside that big head of yours for me to read.”

“Stop.” Her voice is low, dangerous. He tugs again. “I’ll bite your hand off.”

Oh, that’s something he can actually believe, and Jax hops out of reach before she can actually go through with her little threat, laughing at her face when she turns to try to bite him— god does she look cute when she’s all worked up like that, sharp teeth and all, ready to fight. Only if more people were this funny in this place… and hey, at least she gave him a little warning this time! A one-second warning, but still!

“I thought you enjoyed me ringing your little bells, Pompkin.” Pomni stares at him with a too blank expression, as if she’s trying to decide on something, and he takes the chance to flick the bell again, granting him a set of sharp teeth almost sinking into his arm. Thank his avatar for being as fast as a real rabbit if he ever needed to, moving away before the jester could get him. “Regretting making me your babysitter yet?”

“You have no idea.”

He laughs, satisfied with himself for pushing her enough to get a reaction that’s not that boring, happy to just sit by her chair, back pressed against the desk’s leg— and he can’t say why, really. Being this close to her makes something in his code quiet down, maybe just a stupid reflection from whatever happened to them both, and it’s easier not to fight it, to just hover around her for no reason other than why not? He’s stuck here anyway, being her babysitter, and he’s been in the circus long enough to know this isn’t something he can walk away from so he might as well make the most of it.

Pomni drops another note into the small box, catching his attention; she doesn’t say anything nor tries to stop him when he pulls it closer, between his legs, curiosity finally getting the best out of him, and Jax just digs through the papers, exceptionally careful not to rip anything. He shouldn’t care this much and he knows that, but right now the idea of messing with her work just feels like a really bad one.

(There’s not a single ounce of doubt in his mind that she will bite his head off if he tries.)

“So, you gonna elaborate on that?” The jester doesn’t answer right away, handing him a new note instead, not even looking away from her desk. ‘Beach party’. Huh. He drops the suggestion on the little pile without giving it another thought, but the chance to poke her is a too good one to pass. “Babysitter and your intern? I don’t get paid enough for this, Pompom.”

“We don’t get paid at all.”

“We should. How am I supposed to support my five starving, sick children in this economy?” He offers a too loud, too dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his chest and finally, finally Pomni looks down at him, a half-confused, half-bewildered expression on her face. It makes something in his stomach flutter, and he suppresses the feeling as quickly as it’s tried to rear its head. “Maybe I should quit, 0 minutes notice.”

“Really?” The jester is smiling now, head resting on her hand as she gives him a thoughtful look. It makes his fur stand on end for some dumb reason, one he refuses to think about because it doesn’t matter. “And apply where, Spudsy’s? I heard they’re looking for a new shift leader.”

He shudders at the memory. She laughs.
(The fluttering feeling comes back at full force. He hates it.)

“At least I can get high on stupid sauce there. You’re a boring boss.” He shrugs, jabbing the box as if it’s personally offended him. Pomni just scoffs, unamused, and he can hear her shifting on the chair, probably going back to whatever she’s doing, but he doesn’t bother himself to look at her again. “And lame too. All of these are lame ideas. Where’s the violence, Pom?”

“I’m pretty sure Caine will add it when he’s working on these.”

He rolls his eyes, barely noticing her reaching out, half-expecting it to be just another note— but her hand rests on his head, right between his ears, petting him mindlessly, and something in his brain just short-circuits, his breath faltering for a moment; she’s done that before, a few too many times whenever he let his guard down for a little longer than he should, and it’s too easy to feel his body melting under her touch, instincts kicking in before his mind could even follow. Stupid rabbit traits or whatever.

And it shouldn’t be a surprise, really. For someone that hates to be touched, Pomni surely enjoys having him too close a bit too much. How many times had she pushed Ragatha’s hand away, only to turn around and let him poke and prod and carry her like a porcelain doll? As if he’s special, more important for her than anyone else in that hellscape. There’s a twisted sense of satisfaction burning within him at the thought, an unfamiliar yet not really unpleasant feeling that makes him move his head ever so slightly, relaxing under her hand. 

(He remembers pushing his body between her legs, caging her in the kitchen counter, trying to get some negative reaction out of her for ignoring her boundaries, trying to make her push him away and berate him— only to have her cradling his face, looking at him as if she meant every word she said.)

as if she’d ever really like you

F[*@%]. Who’s even talking about that, anyway? And he’s quick to blame trauma of almost abstracting for latching onto the only person that actually gave a single f[%&!] about him out of reflex rather than… what, real feelings? As if that’s even a thing in the circus. They’re nothing but a bunch of cartoon characters, little cogs in a big machine, bound to archetypes and endless lines of code. They don’t have feelings, he doesn’t have feelings. He doesn’t care. He’s here, sitting by her feet like a pathetic little pet, because Caine is forcing him to, because she thought it’d be funny to have him caged with her.

(Her fingers move to the base of his ear, massaging the sore area.)

He hears thumping on the wooden floor and it takes him a second to realize it’s his own foot, anxiety quietly spreading its poisonous roots. Pomni must’ve heard it too, hand stilling on his head, before she pulls it away, and the sudden lack of contact makes him bite back a soft, pathetic noise that threatened to escape him. Why, why does he feel like this when he shouldn’t care about anything but his own entertainment, about making fun of anything and everything so boredom wouldn’t drive him insane?

“Jax?”

F[&#$]. He knows that tone perfectly well and it only serves to douse his anxiety in a tight rage. He doesn’t need her pity. He doesn’t need anything from her at all.

he should dig a hole in the middle of the void and die there

He shoots up quickly, almost stumbling over the small box at his feet; she’s staring and he knows that, her eyes almost burning into his fur but he refuses to even look at the jester, more focused on getting out of there, getting as far away from her as possible, right now. Her room — their room, even if temporary, because Caine loves to mess with him — feels suddenly too small, too claustrophobic, and he needs to leave and maybe drown in the digital lake so all these feelings will finally quiet down and die within him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

F[*#%]. Of course she didn’t because she’s nice, the perfect amount of sweetness and affection, so unlike Ragatha it almost hurts because he knows, he just knows Pomni means every word and gesture. She cares about him, she truly does, and that simple realization is mortifying.

“I’m bored.” His voice falters, the urge to kick himself in the face rising too quickly. leave just leave already she doesn’t need to find out how pathetic you really are just go. “I’ll see what the other losers are up to.”

And he’s gone before she could even say anything else, slamming the door behind him. A tiny, childish part of him relishes on hearing her call him back, but his body can’t stop running.

you don’t deserve her at all

Chapter Text

Maybe she did something wrong. Pomni keeps staring at the door, a part of her expecting Jax to come back laughing at her face, making fun of her for falling so easily to another of his pranks, but he doesn’t. And she scrambles through her brain, trying to figure out what exactly she did to get Jax bolting out of her — their — room as if Caine had spawned a thousand corns in front of him, but nothing comes to mind; he’d allowed her to pet him before, in some rare, fleeting moments when his mood was just right and no one else was around, but never did he get this upset. He’d push her away, or try to (playfully) bite her, then they both would pretend the moment never happened, buried under countless pranks and snarky words.

So why did he look like that this time?

(Like his whole world was falling apart around him and he was struggling to hold the pieces.)

Her gaze rests on her gloved hand for a too long moment, tears burning in the back of her eyes but she refuses to let herself cry yet. Maybe it wasn’t something that she did at all and she’s just jumping the gun. That’s something that Jax does, again and again and again and again. He runs away when he feels trapped, and he bites when he can’t run— the gun battle, the traveling circus. But they were fine, talking, joking around and having fun, until he ran away. She doesn’t get it, and somehow it feels like a painful rejection.

what are you, sixteen? get your s[$&*] together.

Maybe she should go after him and make sure he’s fine, to avoid a repetition of days ago. She’s learned her lesson, thank you very much. Ignoring him like she’s done before isn’t an option anymore and shouldn’t have been one at all, and it’d been stupid of her to even think she should’ve given him that much space— and guilt creeps up her chest and she pushes it away quickly, pretends not to feel it trying to take over her senses. That’s something she can wallow in later, much later, not when she’s trying to chase a rabbit through a technicolor tent.

She slips out of her chair, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Jax is faster by nature, quick to disappear without leaving a trace behind but there’s only so many places he could be in the circus. He’s not in his room, if the lack of more doors being slammed around is any good indication, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. She’s broken into his room once, she can do it again if she needs to— not that it’d be the case right now, her eyes flickering to the bunny keychain. She’s completely forgotten she’d stolen his key that night, making sure to lock his door when she left because it felt right, because it felt something he’d have wanted.

(And it’s the perfect opportunity to return it without him even noticing her little misdeed. Good plan.)

The hallway is quiet when she finally musters enough courage to leave her room. Knocking at Jax’s door only grants her the same silence, but she takes a minute or two before unlocking his room, just to be sure; it’s empty as she’s expected, eerily so, and even turning on the lights doesn’t help her shake away the feeling that something’s wrong, that something’s lurking in the dark corners, ready to maul her— yet she can’t help but walk in, gaze falling on the knocked lampshade.

It’s still glitching.

(If she squints, she can almost believe the bed table doesn’t look quite right either, its texture missing parts here and there, blending into the carpet under it.)

F[&#$]. She needs to tell Caine about this whenever she sees the ringmaster next, maybe blame herself and the stupid virus just in case; he hasn’t sent her to the cellar, saying the virus is all safe now, so it’s a good option to use in her favor. Not a conversation to have near anyone else’s earshot, that’s for sure, but at least the AI won’t be asking why she was in Jax’s room in the first place. She’ll get those little victories where she can, but that’s a problem for later— the conundrum circles back to the key in her hand.

No one else would actually go out of their way to even knock on Jax’s door, let alone try to get in, but the thought of leaving it unlocked still rubs her in the wrong way. How many times had she tried to get a peek in just to be pushed away, to have a door slammed on her face because he’d never let someone get that close? And here she is, standing in his room when he doesn’t even know about it. The other night had been justified. Now? If he comes around and finds her there, it’ll just escalate to yet another fight, one she has no interest in dealing with.

The jester steps out, turning off the light and closing the door, locking it again, his key secured on her keychain once more. At the end of the day, they’ll be sharing a room and she can give his key back then. It’s safer this way, something she can work with if he gets fitsy. She has the key because she locked his door that night, and neither of them had come back to his room ever since, and she just forgot about it. It’s a simple, perfect little plan— it’d be easier if she didn’t need to come up with any plan at all, but it’s Jax and god is he exhausting sometimes.

(Not that she’d be acting any different if the roles were reversed here. Hypocrite.)

Key problem solved, for now.
Missing rabbit problem? Pomni doesn’t even know where to begin.

The common area is probably a bust, but she could at least find out if he passed by, in case anyone’s around. There’s a low chance someone will ask why she’s disappeared for days, but that’s something she can worry about when it happens. The hallway feels longer than usual, her eyes flickering to an unused door for only a moment— and of course it’s the big red X that greets her, over a face that, more often than not, would remind her of her own, and she picks up her pace, walking away from that door before her mind could get lost in a very dangerous path, but the distraction had been enough for her to walk right into someone.

“F[&$#]!” She grunts, barely holding her balance, and her gaze moves quickly to the other person; thank f[$!@] it’s Zooble and they look fine, no parts knocked away from the impact, just staring at her as if she’s grown a second head— or maybe it’s just concern. She can’t really tell right now. “Sorry, Zooble.”

“‘s all good. You okay?”

“Yea, just…” The jester shrugs, forces herself not to stare at the barricaded door again, decides on wrapping her arms around her torso instead, as if that’d be enough to ease the agitation trying to take a hold on her. She needs to focus, not think about ‘what if’s. “Have you seen Jax today?”

“Unfortunately.” Zooble rolls their eyes, concern-or-whatever quickly replaced by sheer irritation, and that should be a good sign. At least she can know which direction that dumb bunny ran to, and it’s leagues better than roaming around the circus aimlessly— but their gaze softens ever so slightly, taking a moment to scan Pomni as if looking for something she couldn’t really understand. “Y’know what? There’s something I wanna show you. Come on.”

Oh. Zooble’s tone leaves no room for argument, and maybe it’s a good idea to follow, at least for a little while. It feels like a terrible, terrible plan to go after Jax when her feelings are all over the place, when he’s running away from her, and maybe talking to someone else could help. So Pomni just nods, following Zooble through the tent, into a corridor she knows very well— and for a moment her body itches to go straight into her little space and forget about Jax, the circus, everything else, at least for a little while; thankfully Zooble stops on the very next door they spot, pushing it open for her.

And it’s quite jarring to step in, the monochromatic scheme taking over the entire room, the lack of the circus’ ever-bright colors a bit too shocking for her system. It’s the same bar from adventures before, a bit more detailed now, soft music playing from a jukebox somewhere. It’s… welcoming, in a way. Comforting, even. Zooble is already behind the counter when she takes a seat, their eyes strangely soft as they push a drink into her hand.

“Decided to follow your lead.” Zooble shrugs, as if anticipating her question, mismatched hands working on moving bottles and glasses around even if nothing looks out of place. “You got your little carnival area, I b[@*%!$]d about it to Caine, we got a compromise. Why do you think I’ve been joining more adventures lately?”

“Did you… bribe Caine into giving you a bar?”

(She’d have paid real money to listen to that particular conversation, and she’s quick to down the thought along with whatever Zooble served her; it burns on her throat, the sensation more than welcome right now.)

“What can I say, it’s better than having him pestering me every other day. At least I can get drunk before an adventure, makes everything easier.” Zooble rolls their eyes, a faint shadow of smirk on their tone. “And to be fair, it’s been… not as bad lately, most of the time. Still not sure how you managed to get Caine to start listening to our suggestions. God knows I’ve been trying since I got my a[%&] stuck here.”

Pomni hums under her breath, fingers tapping the side of her glass gently. She’s not sure either, only that it’d felt right to say the things she said back then, to give him something real to work on instead of just bashing him— sometimes the ringmaster feels and looks as lonely as Jax, but that’s a can of worms she refuses to touch or even think about. Zooble seems to notice something because they’re quick to refill her drink, thank f[$%*].

“I mean, he’s still an AI at the end of the day. You work around his instructions, give him a direct thing to focus on, nothing too special.”

“Sounds special to me. Couldn’t pull that s[*%$] off for months, but I’ve never been good at tech stuff.”

“Me neither. I know bits and pieces I had to learn for work, that’s all.” She sips on her drink again, taking a moment to savor the burning sensation. It’s not the same as real alcohol, for sure, and she can taste the fakeness behind it all if she thinks too much but it’s close enough for her. “God I f[$%&*!]g missed this.”

“You tell me.” Zooble is nursing their own drink now, a bottle of unlabeled whisky resting on the counter between them both. “So, what’s up? You don’t have to talk if you don’t wanna, but I know something’s going on. You’ve been MIA for days, Jax’s running around as if his tail’s on fire, and you look like s[@!&].”

“Geez, thanks.” The jester doesn’t even try to stop the ugly, amused snort that escapes her, toying with her half-empty glass for a second. “I… I don’t know.” And she’s quick to blame alcohol for the sudden honesty in her voice, for the tears burning in her eye sockets for a second time today. God can she stop being this pathetic for a day or so? “I checked on him when he didn’t show up for breakfast, after the adventure, and…”

(No. That’s not something she wants to even think about again, let alone share.)

She downs the remaining of her drink to mask her hesitation. Zooble doesn’t seem to notice it, just refilling her glass when she pushes it into their reach, and they don’t say anything yet. They keep watching her, listening, and that’s something Pomni should appreciate more often; there’s something about Zooble’s demeanor that makes it easier to just open up, maybe their honesty, how willing they are to not sugarcoat anything. She doesn’t need to hear that everything’s going to be fine, and the bartender isn’t going to offer that.

“And we talked.” Pomni says at last. It’s better, safer than anything else crossing her mind in the moment. “We were doing fine. We were…” and she snaps her mouth shut, swallows back the intrusive thoughts with another shot of alcohol because she’s not about to tell Zooble how she’s been cuddling with Jax for two, three days in a row just because some stupid, f[%&!#]d up virus. “I thought we were fine. Then he just… ran away. I don’t know.”

“That’s Jax for you.” Zooble offers after a moment, when they notice she’s not going to say anything else yet, eyes resting on their own glass. “He runs away because it’s easier than to deal with his own s[!&*]. That’s not your fault, and surely it’s not something you can fix.”

The jester sighs again, toying with her glass once more.

“I stand by what I said weeks ago, Pomni.” The bartender takes a second to, somehow, down their own shot. “You’re a grown woman, you pick your own battles, but I give a s[!%$] about you and it p[!%&*]s me off that you let him walk all over you like this. Why do you care so much?”

And she tries to come up with an answer, a good one that could really explain why she’s been trying so hard to stay close, why she’s been fighting tooth and nail to make him understand she’s his friend even if he doesn’t care about it or about her. She knows she should’ve given up on Jax weeks ago, right after the Awards. Her life would’ve been much easier if she didn’t push him at all, if she decided to stay close to literally anyone else in the circus, even Caine, instead of gravitating around Jax as if he’s the f[&*!#$]g sun.

“I don’t know.” That’s all Pomni can come up with, and Zooble just stares at her, mismatched eyes void of any expression. “I just… he never treated me like I was made of glass. He was f[&@!*%]g annoying, sure, but it was so much better than Ragatha babying me the whole d[!$#]n time. And then he just… reached out, in his way. Things were okay for a while, but then we had a fight, after the gun battle. He said a lot of cruel things, I kicked his a[*€]. It wasn’t pretty.”

“But it was deserved.” Zooble snorts softly, and Pomni can’t help but giggle, the knot in her throat easing for but a fleeting moment.

“Then… I don’t know. The carnival adventure was…” Intimate. Perfect. She gulps down the words quickly, washes them away with even more whiskey. “You heard us. You’ve seen the show, too. And then he turns around and just… I thought he needed more time to figure things out, and I was tired of fighting him every other day, so I backed off a bit to give us both a breather. Turns out I was a f[*€&$!]g moron and he felt like I was ignoring him for no reason. He was really hurt.”

(Hurt because of her.)

“So we talked again and I thought we were fine.” She rubs her eyes, pretends not to feel tears prickling her skin. F[%!*]. “I want us to be fine.”

She’s not tipsy enough to blame anything but her big mouth, not yet at least.
Another shot is downed easily— she’s lost count of how many now.

“Misery loves company, I guess.” She shrugs, happily accepting the obvious glass of water that Zooble pushes her way, drinking it quickly. “And we’re both pretty miserable. At least he won’t chastise me for having fun in a f[&*!$%]g game that’s about shooting each other, for f[!&#]’s sake. I won’t apologize for trying to be friends with the only guy in this s[!&*]hole that treats me like I’m my own person!”

The jester recoils at her own tone, her brain taking a too long moment to notice she’s getting louder than she should. Great. But Zooble doesn’t seem offended, gaze filled with something akin to understanding.

“I get it.” They say after a second, and Pomni believes it. She truly does. “Ragatha is just scared you’ll end up like him. Something happened between them, long before I got here. Jax is a menace to us—” and they gesture at them both lazily. “because we push back and don’t let him get away with his s[!&*]. He’s an a[!&*@#$]e to Gangle because she’s too shy to say anything and he takes advantage of that. But he hates Ragatha. That’s their s[#%!] to deal with, and they don’t, and we’re caught in the crossfire. There’s a good reason I don’t get close to any of them. Jax gives plenty, but you know what I mean.”

Pomni nods softly, eyes wandering around the empty bar as if the answers for each and each one of her problems is hidden under a table. She finds nothing, unfortunately, and she swallows the sudden wave of disappointment along with her drink. Zooble is right, she knows that. It doesn’t mean she likes how right they are.

“It’s not like I’m trying to pick sides.”

“I know that. They don’t.” Zooble stares at their drink for a moment, sighing. “And if you want my two cents, there’s no win-win scenario here. You get close to Jax, Ragatha will freak out. You side with Ragatha, Jax will flip and make your life a living hell. Unless they work on their s[%*!], and they won’t, someone’s gonna end up hurting. That’s not on you. You do what’s best for you, whatever you think it is.”

She doesn’t answer just yet, mulling the words, sipping her freshly-poured drink.
It doesn’t help with the dizziness starting to creep around her brain.

“I get why you’re trying to be close with that a[&@!%*]e.” Zooble serves themself another shot as well, a second, half-empty bottle sitting on the counter. God they both are getting really drunk and the jester couldn’t care less right now. “But I like to think we’re friends enough for you to at least consider what I’m about to say: he’s damaged, badly. You can’t fix him because he doesn’t want it. You can’t force him to accept your help. You’re hurting yourself trying to pick up his pieces because he’s too much of a coward to do it himself, and he won’t even notice what you’re doing.”

“I don’t mind it.” The words escape her a bit too easily, and maybe, just maybe alcohol finally decided to take over. Not that she cares, really. Who the f[$&!] cares. “Maybe that’s what he needs. Someone that shows him what to pick. Someone that stays when everyone else gave up on him because it got too inconvenient to deal with him.”

(She doesn’t think about no one bothering to check on him for days on end.)

Zooble stays silent for a long moment, fingers tapping on the counter rhythmically, almost following the beat of some unlicensed song playing in the background; it’s not an uncomfortable, awkward silence for once, and she takes her sweet time to finish her drink, allowing herself to relax and ride the effects of so much alcohol in her system. It’s been… what, years since she got decently drunk, even before the circus, and Zooble steals the glass from her hands before she could even complain. Maybe it’s for the best, really.

“You really need to work on your taste in partners, I’ll tell you that.”

Pomni chokes on her own spit, feeling her face burning; it’s probably just all the whiskey running all the way up to her head, making her more stupid than usual. That’s it, that’s just all the free shots she’s got in the past… how long have they been drinking again? It doesn’t really matter. And Zooble chuckles, giving her another glass of water, and she swallows it a bit too quickly, choking even harder.

“Take it easy, I’m not judging.” The bartender laughs even louder at her reaction, patting her back as much as they could. “I mean, I am a little bit, because it’s Jax, for f[&*@]’s sake. But the heart wants what it wants, I guess. Lucky you.”

Her brain lags a little bit, trying and failing to really grasp what Zooble is trying to say. She’s just been trying to be friends with Jax, nothing else. She cares about him just as she cares about the other cast members…

Okay, maybe she does care a little bit more about him, but it’s justified. They’re very good at being chaotic together, at being partners in crime during adventures. She lets him get closer than anyone else because well, Jax is a touchy mot[$!@%&*#$] with a negative sense of personal space and there’s only so much she can do to really push him away when she’s 4 feet tall. It’s just easier to just deal with it than get all riled up. It doesn’t mean anything that she doesn’t feel as irked when it’s him holding her, or getting into her face. And they’ve been sleeping in the same bed, cuddling, because… it’s convenient. It makes them both sleep better after what happened, and now he has his own bed and everything will go back to normal soon.

She’s not into him like that.
At all.

(She’s kissed him. On the forehead, sure, just an innocent thing. But she did. Twice. Unprompted, because it felt right.)

……….f[$&*].

f[$&*]f[$&*]f[$&*]f[$&*]f[$&*]f[$&*].

“I-I don’t— what, no, I… it’s not like that at all, I—”

“Sure, I’ll pretend I believe your drunk, clowny a[$#] for a second.” Zooble’s face is practically glowing in pure amusement, nothing but humor ringing in their voice. “Now get out of here before you forget the way back to your room. Let me know if you ever want another drinking session. I’m pretty sure you’ll need it very soon.”

She thinks she needs another session right now.

He shouldn’t have ran.

He shouldn’t have done a lot of things, really. The pattern keeps repeating over and over and he keeps making the same mistakes, keeps making it harder and harder on himself and for what? He shouldn’t have let her get close, he shouldn’t have let her think they could be friends, he shouldn’t have reached out at all— it’s his fault, no one else’s, but that day at Spudsy’s had been so draining he didn’t even notice it until it was too late. But he shouldn’t have let himself approach again, and again. And now here he is, hiding away from her again.

He’d collapsed at some long-forgotten corridor, both from raw exhaustion and nowhere else to go; the circus is only big enough, the multicolored prison always quick to remind him of his messed up reality, but he doubts Pomni would even be able find her way here, one of the rare small blessings he could count on in this limbo. The chessboard tiles are cold under his fur and he presses his face against it, hoping that’d be more than enough to ease his ragged breathing, to slow down his heartbeat, to stop the shivers running down his body.

Why does she even care?

He can’t get his head around it, no matter what she says or does. He’s broken, nothing but a poor shadow of that wretched, weak excuse of a person he used to be, and even that’s shattered and cracked beyond recognition. He can’t even stay still long enough to accept a speck of comfort because he doesn’t deserve it. There’s nothing in him that’s worthy of her care, or worry, or anything else. It’s pathetic and he’s pathetic, and Pomni deserves so much better than anything he could ever offer.

“Jax?”

He feels his muscles stiffening at the unexpected voice, ears twitching; of course he wouldn’t hear Gangle approaching, stupid ribbon feet that make no noise at all, and his body is just as treacherous, limbs suddenly weighing like cement. He can’t move, and trying will only make him look even more miserable, so he resigns to his fate of what’s probably a good few minutes of mockery before the ribbon girl leaves to spread the word. Who cares, really.

(You’re the funny one, aren’t you? Laugh at your own misery, bunny boy.)

“A..are you okay?”

He can’t see Gangle, but he can imagine her all hunched up, probably hugging her stupid sketchbook against her chest, or wriggling her dumb ribbon hands together, probably stunned in place like a deer caught in headlights, expecting him to pounce on her and break her comedy mask, or push her into the ground, or something like that— as if any of those things would ease his sour mood. Any other day, bullying her into tears would’ve been enough. Right now…

“Get lost.”

Hopefully the bite in his voice is more than enough to make Gangle run away from him, to maybe even forget she’s even stumbled on him wallowing on the circus floor. He’d be the one walking away if he could, looking for a new hole to burrow himself into until all those little voices and feelings would stop clawing at his insides but he’s so, so f[&!@$*]g tired.

And of course Gangle doesn’t leave, because the universe has a personal vendetta against him and wants to see him abstract or something. This close, it’s easy for his ears to pick up the soft rustle of ribbons approaching, moving past him, and after a moment the ribbon creature gets into his field of view, sitting on the floor, supporting herself against the wall— far enough from his reach, of course, her attention on the sketchbook in her hands.

“I can… go get Pomni, if you want.”

“I want you dead.” His voice doesn’t convey anything, too exhausted to really bother to pretend, to put a grin on his face, the cruel words meaningless for once. “Go ahead, laugh. Bet you've been waiting for this for a while. Had a field day at McDonald’s and can’t wait for more, right? Go on. Once in a lifetime chance.”

“No, I…” Gangle just presses her sketchbook tighter against her chest, not even meeting his gaze. God she’s so weak, so shy, so easy. He wants to undo her ribbons and get her wrapped around a giant ventilator. Maybe some other day.  “I’m not like you.”

“Right.” Jax half laughs, half barks, too loud, too hollow; it leaves a vile taste in the back of his tongue, like tar, but it’s not amusement that creeps up within him when she flinches. It’s something uglier, twisted, and he squashes it fast, pretends it never existed in the first place. “You’re better than me, aren’t ya. All of you are so much better than me, all high and mighty, pretending to be good little friends having a good little life. Go f[*!%] yourself, Gangle.”

Rage surfaces for but a fleeting moment, easily replaced by the overwhelming exhaustion clinging to his fur, to every muscle and fake bone. He wants his bed — or Pomni’s, who cares at this point — and to just sleep until the entire circus folded into itself. He can’t even bring himself to shift to his back so he could at least avoid looking at Gangle, but closing his eyes is as good as he can do for now. The darkness is almost soothing if it weren’t for the ribbon girl’s presence right there, making it impossible for him to relax.

It could at least be Pomni instead, it’d have been easier; would she hold him like before? Let him rest his head on her lap while she petted him? No, not after he ran away from her just because her touch got too comforting, too overwhelming.

(Why, why did he run? Why does he keep ruining everything?)

“We’re not pretending.” Gangle’s voice is still timid, but there’s something that sounds a bit more sure than usual. Maybe it’s because she knows she can outrun him right now, or because she’s having the time of her life enjoying how pitiable he looks. “Pomni likes you, but no one else wants to be your friend because you’re an a[&$!*@]e to everyone.”

As if he wants anything from any of them.
(They’re just his playthings, nothing else, toys he’s getting really tired of real fast. do you really believe that, bunny boy?)

“At least I don’t lie about myself so people will pity me.” The rabbit forces his eyes open, a shadow of grin digging its way into his face when he notices Gangle’s comedy mask resting on her hands. “Little, fragile Gangle, always in need of a strong hero because it’s easier than grow a f[%&@*!#]g spine. You like it when I’m mean to you because it gives Zooble the perfect excuse to run to your rescue, because if you’re all sad and pathetic, they have to stay around and coddle you.”

A sharp, almost blinding pain explodes on the side of his head and he growls, his body almost jolting out of its heavy numbness but it’s not enough yet, and Jax manages only to bring a shaky hand to his face, shielding the now throbbing area. It takes his brain another second to figure out what hit him, the comedy mask lying in front of him— cracked, but not shattered somehow. And his eyes fly to Gangle, finding her standing up and walking away, right before she’s out of his view but she stops for a moment; he can see her ribbons shaking.

(If it’s fear or anger, he can’t say and he doesn’t care to find out.)

“You need it more than me.”

And she’s gone without another word, the silence stretching far and wide in the corridor, between corners and shadows that seem a bit too alive tonight, for some unholy reason. His body moves before he can notice it, hand closing around the comedy mask, bringing it closer. It feels heavier than usual, and for once there’s no urge to break it to pieces just yet— he finally manages to push his body around, laying on his back, gaze lost in the darkness on the roof for a moment. The mask is cold, almost freezing when he lets it rest on his face.

you’re not the funny one

A chuckle escapes him, weak, empty.
God he’s so, so pathetic.

It takes him a long, long time to kick his body into something barely functional again. The circus is drowned in the familiar, heavy silence that only comes when the moon is high and everyone else is already in bed, but for once it doesn’t feel as deafening; it’s easier to drag himself around the tent when he knows he won’t be walking into anyone else, the fear of humiliation buried deep, forgotten in the back of his wearied mind.

(Gangle’s mask has been lost somewhere in the pocket of his overalls, along with too many keys to places he’s never visited or found out again. He could’ve left it behind, could’ve broken it in tiny little pieces, but Caine would just repair it so why bother? There’s only so much energy left in his body and he needs every ounce of it to get into bed.)

And he doesn’t really register when he walks into Pomni’s room, autopilot working perfectly, body taking over when his brain can’t keep up, mind already lost in a fog that’s getting heavier and heavier. He doesn’t think when he climbs into the bottom bed, when he wraps his arms around a smaller figure, pulling them close, and he doesn’t hear a content, hopeful sigh escaping his lips as sleep finally digs its claws deep into him, dragging him easily into its hands. It’s cozy, warm.

It feels like home.

Chapter Text

There’s a thick layer of sleep still clinging to him when he feels his eyes opening, brain running so slow he doesn’t even register what woke him up until it comes again: a knock on the door. Great. Autopilot takes over his tired senses, body moving on its own, and he just watches himself disentangling his arms from something really cozy and warm against his will. God he’s never felt this drained before, limbs so heavy he feels his feet dragging on the floor, stumbling his way to the door, and it takes him a too long moment of pawing at the key to actually unlock it.

(When did he ever get a bunny keychain, again? Eh, who cares.)

Another knock. It’s probably Pomni anyway, and maybe he’s late for breakfast or something. She’s the only one that’d ever check on him, the stupid jester, never knowing when to leave him alone to his own devices and he… doesn’t really hate it. He likes her presence, even if he knows he shouldn’t... But it’s not Pomni standing there when he finally cracks the door open, and his brain struggles for another second to recognize Ragatha’s red hair, her good eye widened in a shocked expression, as if she’s surprised he’s opening his door at all. Whatever, it’s too early to deal with her.

He hopes the door hits her in the face when he slams it with a bit too excessive force, dragging his exhausted body back into bed, crawling his way under blankets. Something in the back of his sluggish mind registers a muffled, indignant ‘Jax!’ before he pushes his face into the pillow, arms wrapped tight around it and pulling it close against his chest. It’s a bit weird how comfortable this feels, his pillow a different texture, somehow fuller, warmer, but sleep takes him over easily before he can think too much.

What drags him into consciousness again is the weird feeling of the pillow shifting in his arms; are pillows even supposed to move? The rabbit doesn’t open his eyes just yet, curling his body around the pillow. Maybe he’s just dreaming— and then there are hands on his back, clinging to his shirt, and he doesn’t think he’s ever woken up that fast before, eyes snapping open only to find Pomni staring right back at him with her stupid, lost look on her face, as if she’s just as confused as he feels.

…

His brain finally decides to start working again, the weight of the whole situation finally making some sense. It might’ve clicked on Pomni’s too; she screams, and Jax startles, feels himself scrambling away from the jester as if she’s on fire, his back connecting hard to the floor when he fails to hold himself onto something and falls off the bed, kicking breath out of his lungs, pain more than enough to wash away any sliver of sleep still clinging to his senses— and he can hear Pomni moving quickly, her face peeking out of the mattress, pinwheel eyes full of concern.

(He hates it.)

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy.” He manages to grumble, forcing his body to move but his limbs are still too heavy, and he can only prop himself onto his elbows, taking a moment or two to maybe, just maybe get his breathing under control and his heart to calm the f[&#@] down— but his brain is working perfectly fine, it seems. “Dang, Pom. You should at least take me out for dinner first before getting into my bed.”

Silence stretches for a long second, and he can see her brain connecting the dots slowly, her face flustering fast when she finally gets it. God she’s too easy to rile up sometimes, a perfect little target for him to enjoy, and he just laughs out loud, snorting when a pillow hits him in the face.

“Excuse you?!” Pomni’s voice is a pitch higher than normal, almost hysterical, her usually white face tinted almost completely red and isn’t that the cutest shit he’s seen this morning. “This is my bed!”

“Nope, I called dibs on it.” He smirks, and that only grants him a second pillow (where did she even get that?) on the face; hey at least he can be a little bit more comfortable on the floor now, adjusting it under his head and letting his body relax again, eyes closed. It’s much better than trying to move around just yet. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what you were planning to do with poor, innocent me.”

“You…” Another second of silence, and he takes a moment to steal a quick glance at Pomni; her face is even redder now, a few moments away from committing murder on a certain purple rabbit. “I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Kinky.”

The only answer she offers is an angry, loud groan, and Jax winces when she jumps on his stomach to get out of bed, stomping around the room and mumbling under her breath, probably a string of insults or death threats. Maybe both, really. For a long minute he just watches her moving around, allowing his body to come down from the last remnants of shock— was he so out of it last night that he didn’t even notice it was Pomni’s room he was walking into, that he didn’t see Pomni in bed when he crawled under blankets? He must’ve been. His brain is too treacherous for him to rely on it, memories from yesterday nothing but a mess of too many colors, too many feelings he refuses to acknowledge.

And for a moment his focus snaps back to reality when he notices Pomni approaching her dresser, and he’s quick to turn around, laying on his side, trying to give her some privacy he knows they don’t need; the clothes will be changed in a whim, the magic of their digital world doing wonders and replacing pajamas for their dumb ‘uniforms’, but it just feels right.

(When did he start caring about it? It doesn’t really matter.)

“Jax?” Her voice is calmer now, too steady, too serious. He knows that tone. He hates that he knows it, that he’s getting too close to start picking up little details. There’s a soft jingle from her bells, a very good indication she’s already changed, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t dare to look at her just yet. “Do you… wanna talk about yesterday?”

He feels his entire body stiffening almost painfully, his fingers digging deep into the pillow, the urge to get up and run away getting a bit too loud on his ears but he pushes it down, forces a wide grin on his face when he finally moves to look at her— and it’s easy, too easy to pretend not to see her eyes narrowing.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, toots.”

Pomni doesn’t answer, the silence too heavy over their heads, almost overwhelming; and she shifts on her weight, the bells jiggling at every movement, pinwheel eyes leaving his face to look at anything else, as if she’s looking for answers he can’t offer somewhere else. Great, he’s doing it again. He forces himself to sit up, rubbing a hand over his face. Why, why did she have to ask Caine to force them to be roommates? Maybe he should just hide in his room until the virus problem is fixed—

“Alright.” Her voice sounds tentative, as if she doesn’t want to say that at all. “Sorry. For screaming. You scared the hell outta me, and I woke up with this really bad migraine. I think I’ll grab some coffee.”

The jester grimaces, and just now he notices she’s been massaging her forehead for a while, looking strangely tired for someone that spent the whole night cuddling— no, he’s not thinking about that. Nothing happened at all. Jax pushes himself off the floor, pillow thrown back into her bed. Getting breakfast does sound like a pretty decent excuse to avoid Pomni for a little while, to get his head back into his game and fix his funny mask that she keeps tearing down…

Realization hits him with the subtlety of a cannon ball to the face.

“Crap.”

Ragatha.

He opened Pomni’s door.
To Ragatha.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ll get that coffee for you.” He says too quickly, panic raising and he doesn’t even know why— he doesn’t care about Ragatha’s opinion in the slightest, but some part of him is too hyperaware that Pomni might still worry, that their next conversation will probably just hurt her feelings and the thought alone leaves a poisonous taste in his mouth.

“I can get a f[&#!@*$]g coffee myself.”

Oh, he knows that tone pretty well too.
She’s pissed.

“I’m just trying to be nice, Pompom.” He rests a hand over his heart, feigning offense; hopefully she falls for his little show, but the way she’s still glaring at him makes it a bit too hard to focus on joking it away. “Can’t a guy treat his new roommate to some fresh coffee? Maybe I was thinking about bringing flowers and chocolates too to make up for scaring you like that, you don’t know.”

And it seems to work wonders, the jester’s defensive instance easing a little, a shadow of smile tugging at her lips. Jax finds himself breathing a bit more easily, his grin a bit lighter than usual; he doesn’t think about the weird feeling flaring at the pit of his stomach when she finally laughs, just forces himself to approach the dresser— and she turns around quickly to give him a privacy he doesn’t really need, arms still crossed but at least her body language isn’t of someone ready to commit a felony.

“Where would you even get flowers?”

“That’s a secret, Pompkin.” He says too casually, taking a second to press a hand on the dresser; it’s still an alien feeling to have his clothes replaced so easily, the overalls clinging almost uncomfortably against his fur but he shakes the feeling away quickly, crossing the distance between him and the jester in a few steps only to tug at the end of her hat. “But you hurt my feelings, so no flowers for you.”

She swats his hand away, rolling her eyes, and for once Jax lets her win this round— just because she’s not feeling well and there’s no fun in messing with her when she’s like this. He can save the pranks and jokes for later, when she’s busy ‘working’ on the suggestion box. God that still sounds stupid, but Pomni didn’t seem to hate it yesterday. That only means more opportunities for pranking her.

“Breakfast, princess?” He bows too dramatically at the door, granting him a soft jab at the shoulder but the jester laughs, and that sparks something within his chest— and he ignores it quickly, offering her a smirk instead. “Sensitive much, eh. Didn’t get a good sleep?”

If looks could kill, Jax is pretty sure she’d have a dead rabbit on the floor right now.
His smile only widens.

“I will murder you.” Pomni mumbles, approaching her door as if to escape his reach— but she stops on her tracks, her fingers tight around a second key in the keychain he hasn’t even noticed before, and she slips it into her palm easily. “Right, I almost forgot. This is yours. I grabbed it the other night, after I brought you here. I just… it didn’t feel right to leave your room unlocked.”

He blinks slowly, eyes glued to the key she’s holding out. Why would she even care about locking his room when no one else cared enough to knock on his door, let alone try to break in? But the gesture makes something flip in the bottom of his stomach, his resolution cracking a bit more every time she does that— proving that she cares, instead of just saying it, because he knows better than anyone else in that circus that words mean nothing at all most of the time.

She’s staring at him now, watching, waiting— there’s some hesitation in her eyes, as if she’s expecting him to… what? Lash out? That’s what he should do, really. That’d teach her not to get so close, not to care so much, not to pry into someone else’s business but what’s the point now when she’s latched onto him and refuses to let go even if he has nothing of value to offer? So he takes the key, drops it into his pocket quickly, pretends not to hear it bouncing on the porcelain mask still in there.

Right, he still has the comedy mask and he can’t exactly get rid of it (or explain why he has it in the first place) with Pomni breathing down his neck. What a great way to start the day. 

“Jax?” The jester is still staring at him with her dumb big eyes, hands resting against her chest— and it’s so obvious to see her anxiety building up it almost hurts, and the rabbit finally snaps his attention back to her, bending ever so slightly towards her, waiting; and she sure takes her sweet time, hesitating for a good couple of seconds. “Did I do something wrong?”

The question makes no real sense to him, and he can’t help but tilt his head in confusion, blinking slowly. Pomni overthinking and panicking is nothing new, of course. She does that as much as he runs away when things get too out of hand, too hard to deal with— they’re damaged, both of them. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep her away, why she keeps trying to build a friendship out of broken glass and old duct tape. 

“Course not, Pompkin.” Jax finally shrugs, patting her hat as if talking to a child to maybe, just maybe rile her up enough for her to stop looking at him that way; she doesn’t take the bait, and he drops his hand quickly, sighing. “Geez, it’s too early for the anxiety party. Breakfast then you can panic all you want over nothing, c’mon.”

And he doesn’t wait for her response before grabbing her wrist and dragging her out of the room, ignoring her protests— not that she’s really fighting his grasp, really, just cursing him out loud, the beeps and cartoonish noises making it quite obvious but it’s so much better than watching her panic that he just laughs at her words, tugging her down the hallway; the circus colors seem brighter than usual, the background music loud enough not to be uncomfortable and maybe that means something good, maybe it means not worrying about that stupid virus still hidden away in her body.

How the f[!*&] did that even happen anyway?
(Not that it really matters right now.)

“Do you think Caine will forget about…” Pomni’s voice drags him back into reality, her question mirroring his thoughts almost so perfectly Jax feels himself halting, staring down at her— she’s looking away, focused on some part of the circus he can’t see nor care enough to search for, her left arm pressed gently against her chest. “You know.”

There’s a small chance that’d happen, of course. It’s Caine after all, a messed up AI that’s getting worse by the day whenever they push him too much— not that he’s about to say that to an already anxious Pomni. He just smiles, letting go of her wrist just to give her hat a single, soft tug, the easiest way to make her look at him (even if she looks about to bite him or kick his a[$%] every time).

“That thing is stopping you from joining his adventures, Pom. Relax, you’ll be fine.”

She stares at him for a too long moment, pinwheel eyes running all over his face as if she’s looking for something, maybe any hint of deceit and he can’t help but feel a small, too quiet part of him shrinking at the thought she doesn’t trust him, not completely. It shouldn’t bother him, not when he’s been the one feeding that particular monster since she fell into that place, and yet the feeling festers easily, spreading too fast like vines— and then Pomni smiles, giving his hand a soft, almost reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you.”

(He pretends not to feel his heart skipping a beat or two, the ugly feeling dissipating so quickly as if it never existed in the first place, replaced by something too warm, too chaotic for him to care to understand or name.)

“Yea, sure. Whatever.”

And he’s definitely not flustered, thank you very much.
It’s probably a fever or something from all that time he spent curled up on the cold floor.

Everyone else is already gathered at the dining table when they walk in, Pomni’s words dying in her throat when she catches Ragatha’s gaze— the ragdoll looks between her and Jax for a too long moment, lips pressed into a thin line, and the jester forces herself to ignore it, to just take her seat at the table and grab a cup. Coffee will surely help with that migraine that keeps getting worse and worse, that’s for sure, and there’s a sudden, feeble urge to drink straight from the pot; if it wasn’t already in Jax’s hand, that is, and he’s grinning at her as if he knows exactly what she’s thinking about.

She needs to kick his a[&*], she truly does.

“G’morning.” Zooble’s voice rings from the end of the table, their gaze fixed on Gangle’s newest drawing, of course; and it feels a bit off to see the ribbon girl without her comedy mask this early in the morning, but maybe Gangle is just keeping it safe for the adventure. “I bet you have three seconds to give her that coffee before she bites your head off.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that.” His laughter is, for once… almost sincere, his smile a bit lighter than usual. And to his credit, he does serve her a full cup, his gaze lingering for too long on her face— and Pomni drinks her coffee too fast, pretends it’s the warmth of the drink that turns her cheeks into a darker shade of pink. “Don’t need to drown, geez.”

“Shut it.”

“So, Jax.” Ragatha chimes in, her voice too sweet, too friendly. There’s something wrong in there, something that’s bothering her to no end and she still tries to mask it behind fake kindness, and Pomni takes a deep breath, forces herself to focus on the rabbit by her side— and he’s tensed up, gaze fixed on the ragdoll. “Did you sleep well?”

And that shouldn’t feel like a weird question at all, but it does.
Even Jax’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, his expression too guarded even behind the mask.

“Why, dollie. Best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

The jester can’t help but steal a glance at Zooble, their conversation last night still a bit too fresh in her mind to be pushed aside so easily; and they’re looking at her as well, brows furrowed in concern for but a moment before they shrug and return their attention to Gangle, a clear sign they’re not getting involved. And that’s fair, really. Maybe Pomni shouldn’t get involved either, but it’s hard to ignore the tension building up around her when she’s stuck between both of them— and it takes her a whole bag of self-control not to flinch away from Jax’s touch, his hand resting too heavily on her shoulder.

“Jax.” Her voice is careful, nothing but a warning in her tone, and he stares at her for a long moment before relaxing his fingers and pulling his hand away, offering a too sweet smile that means nothing at all and Pomni can’t help but sigh, massaging her temple. “It’s too early for this.”

“You tell me.” Zooble grunts, unamused, raising their own cup of coffee in mock cheering when the jester looks their way again; well, at least she’s not the only one suffering with a hangover today. “If we’re lucky, Caine won’t drag us to a stupid horror adventure.”

“Aww, I thought you liked the ‘matoore’ adventures, Zoobie.” Jax parrots Caine’s voice mockingly, laughing, tension all but melted from his body, and Pomni feels herself relaxing a bit, just watching as the rabbit pushes his body onto the table, laying so comfortably between dishes it’s almost scandalous. “Caine makes those so special for you.”

“Cut that s[*%&]. I hope it’s a boring adventure so you’ll be miserable during the whole thing.”

“Excuse you. I’ll be having lots of fun right here in the circus, thank you very much.” And he steals a quick glance at Pomni, his grin widening when she meets his eyes. “Who knows, maybe I’ll spend the whole day working on some really good pranks. How do you feel about glue on your parts, Zoobie?”

“What the f[*!#%], you’re not skipping today’s adventure again, that’s ridiculous.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

He turns around to lay on his side, propping himself onto an elbow to give Zooble a better stare; they’re grimacing, arms crossed, a buzzkill as always but they seem to be considering his words this time. Easy, always so easy to rile them up. At least Pomni gives him a bit of a funny fight more often than not— and god she should stop eyeing him this badly, really. She’s anything but subtle, that’s for sure, but he keeps his gaze on the mix-and-match character for now.

“What are you planning now, Jax?”

“Just making things more interesting in this snoozefest.” He offers a quick shrug, resting his head on his hand, grin never leaving his face. “Come on, Zoobie. It’s an easy win for you, isn’t it? One week with no pranks if you win.”

“Make it a month.” The rabbit hums under his breath, feigning thinking it over; he could be this generous today, give them a little bit of hope just because the reaction would be a funny one to watch. “I don’t have all day, Jax.”

“Alright, geez. What if I win? Gotta be a pretty good deal, y’know.”

“I won't trespass you from my bar for a week.”

And he barks a too loud laughter, almost falling from his unstable position— that’s something he hasn’t been really expecting to hear, and he takes a moment to sit up, watching Zooble. They’re not bluffing at all, expression too guarded still, looking like they’re trying not to regret the words they just said and isn’t just that priceless.

“Make it a month.” He repeats just for good measure, offering them a hand, and Zooble rolls their eyes before shaking it— and he holds on for a little longer, smirking when they try to pull away. So easy, really. There’s no way he’d ever get tired of that. “Deal, then. See y’all losers later.”

The rabbit gazes at Pomni for a long moment, his smile softening ever so slightly, before he hops out of the table and disappears into the tent, and the urge to follow him rises and is pushed away quickly, her body way more interested in enjoying her coffee for a minute. She knows Ragatha is staring at her, can feel the doll’s gaze burning the side of her face— and maybe they should talk, really, but there’s some truth in what Zooble had said.

No matter what she does, someone will get hurt.
So much for trying to make everyone happy.

(And maybe she doesn’t; maybe she should focus on what makes her happy, for once. She refuses to let her thoughts wander to the tall rabbit that just left.)

“F[%*$&!@] purple freak.” Zooble grunts, quiet enough for only her and Gangle to hear, and the jester rolls her eyes out of habit, finishing her coffee in a gulp. “What?”

“What?”

“You giving me the stinky eye. You know I’m right.”

“We’re all freaks here, Zooble. I’m a cartoon clown.”

“Whatever you say. You’re the one sleeping with him, not me.”

Any retort she could’ve mustered dies on her tongue and Pomni just glares at Zooble, face burning up so much she’s almost sure someone dropped her right into a fireplace— and of course they’re laughing, patting Gangle on her shoulder gently; the drama mask is as red as her ribbons, and Pomni is sure her own face isn’t faring any better right now.

“Y’know Zooble, sometimes you deserve the pranks.”

“Sure f[!*$%&]g do.”

Chapter Text

It’s easy to escape the dining room before anyone could stop or follow her, slipping into hallways quickly, fast enough to disappear into a corridor just in case someone decided to try to talk to her about whatever's been said in that breakfast table. If she's lucky, Caine will just take them all into an adventure and she'll be safe from Ragatha's questioning for a couple of hours, she won't need to— her face collides with something soft, hands flying to grab to whatever it is before she could fall on her back, and Jax's delighted chuckle fills the area, snapping her attention back to reality before her mind could really comprehend what just happened.

"Where ya going, clown?" He tugs at her hat, the bells jiggling under his mistreatment, and pulls her away from her leg— oh, of course she'd walk into him and of course she'd cling to him even without noticing. The universe sure hates her or something. "Running from a jealous crazy partner? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?"

And the way he drags the word, almost purring, makes something run down her spine, tingling, too hot for her liking, his fingers tight enough around the end of her hat so Pomni can't pull away and escape the proximity— and he gets even closer, bending to her level, that stupid s[$#!]-eating grin plastered on his face. A sudden urge to grab his ear in retaliation rises quickly and so she does, her grip not tight enough to hurt but it sure makes him freeze in place, eyes wide, his stupid smile completely wiped from his face in a second.

(As if he hasn't been expecting her to do anything at all. Silly rabbit.)

"Cut it or I'll kick your a[&*] again, bunny."

It takes a moment of unnerving silence but he finally laughs, releasing her hat, an obvious faux innocent smirk on his lips, but only when Jax raises his hands in mock surrender she lets go of his ear, stepping back too quickly, ignoring the sudden warmth burning on her cheeks. F[*!%]. At least Jax wasn't around when Zooble was implying… no, she's not thinking about that right now, not when the rabbit is still close. She doesn't think about how he looked when lying on the dining table, like—

"Pomni, there you are."

Their reactions at Ragatha's voice are instant, Pomni's body tensing up, Jax straightening so fast she has no idea how he manages to keep his balance— and his expression is too guarded again, the fake smile back to his face. There's something else too, something the jester can't really get and maybe she shouldn't even try to. Instead she turns around to stare at Ragatha, the ragdoll already close, her good eye shifting between Jax and Pomni for a moment before fixing on the jester.

"Can I, uh, talk to you in private for a second?"

Pomni feels herself sighing, her brain running to every excuse she could use right now to escape that conversation but Jax is faster, a gloved hand landing on her shoulder with a bit too much weight, his hold alone the only thing keeping her from falling on her face or something; it only makes Ragatha stiffen, her lips melting into a too sweet, too friendly smile. They're at it again, of course they are because they can't be normal for ten seconds for some unholy reason, and the jester feels her patience at their b[*!%$#?]t draining faster and faster every passing moment— unfortunately, Jax's hand is too heavy on her, pinning her in place.

(Pomni wonders, for a brief second, if biting him would be worth the headache she'd have to deal with later.)

"I thought you still had a good eye left, Rags." Jax's voice cuts through her dangerous thoughts, his Cheshire cat-like grin too wide, laughing openly at the annoyed glance Ragatha throws at him. "We're kinda busy here. Right, Pompom?"

The fake sweetness in his voice almost makes her brain short-circuit, Pomni's eyes quickly falling on his face as his grip tightens on her shoulder— play along, just play along so they can get rid of Ragatha without too much of a fight. Some small, annoyed part of her brain tries to argue because she shouldn't be this good at reading him, she shouldn't get involved in whatever is going on between Jax and Ragatha at all. Still she steals a glance at Ragatha; the ragdoll is shaking, fists clenched. F[*!#]. Pomni can almost feel the migraine coming back, and that's more than enough to make her sigh.

"Yea, I..." The jester smiles softly, resisting the urge to elbow Jax when he digs into her shoulder again. "I really wanted to show Jax something I found the other day."

"Oh. You don't mind if I tag along, then?" Ragatha's voice is as soft as her smile, only her tense body betraying anything— she's pissed, Pomni can see it from a mile away, and the only thing she wants to do right now is run away from them both and let them play that stupid game or whatever it is. "We still have some time before the adventure, I'm sure it'll be fun."

"You really can't take a hint, can you?" Jax chimes in before Pomni could hesitate for too long to answer, his voice too calm, the mockery so obvious it’s almost dripping from each word, his fingers digging deep into Pomni’s clothes— not painfully, not yet, but something about his touch feels too wrong.

“Jax.” Pomni’s warning goes ignored, his eyes still on Ragatha, and the urge to knock some sense into him rises a bit too fast for her liking but she bites down on her tongue, forces her attention to nudge Jax’s hand away from her. He doesn’t budge, but his fingers relax finally, his hand just resting on her shoulder almost gently. “Can you guys cut it already?”

Ragatha stares at her as if Pomni's grown a second head, her good eye bright with unshed tears, and the jester wants nothing but dig a hole on the floor and disappear into it, pretend that conversation never happened at all, that she never left her room that morning. And she gets it, why Zooble keeps their distance, why they stick to Gangle instead; it's exhausting, and it's anything but fair.

"He started it!” Ragatha stammers, trembling hands pressed against her chest, her voice finally losing the faux friendliness note. “I just— t-that's what he always does! He messes with everyone, he hurts people! I’m trying to look out for you, Pomni! I’m your friend! Jax is trying to use you, he doesn't care about anyone but himself!”

She takes in a deep breath, tries to push away the wave of annoyance that rises fast. How many times to they have to go through that same conversation?

"I'm not a child, Ragatha."

(And there's so much else Pomni wants to say, things she knows Ragatha will ignore just like before.)

"Oh boy." Jax laughs, loud, almost manic, but something in his expression shifts ever so slightly, something dark that the jester chooses to ignore. "Just because you're so desperate to get into Pomni's good side it doesn't mean anyone else can be her friend too, Rags."

"Because you being friends with Ribbit turned out great, didn’t it?!”

The silence that falls over the corridor is heavy, coated in something Pomni refuses to think about for too long; Ragatha’s reaction is quick, a flash of horror zipping by her good eye, hands covering her mouth but the words were already out, the damage already done. The name isn't one that the jester recognizes, but it might've been someone important— important enough for Jax to go quiet, dangerously so, for a too long moment, and Pomni feels his hand shaking ever so slightly before he pulls it away from her.

“I didn’t— Jax, I…”

“No, you’re right.” His tone is flat, the hint of acidic humor nothing but a carefully masked construct that could fool anyone— anyone but Pomni. He sneers down at Ragatha, getting so close to her face that the jester almost believes he’ll try to bite it off. “I love being the bad guy. It’s funny. Maybe I should’ve gotten closer to you back then, eh? At least everyone wouldn’t be so miserable dealing with you every other day.”

The ragdoll takes a shaky step back.
Pomni feels her body glued to the floor.

(She should intervene, say something to maybe get his attention. She doesn’t.)
good f[*#%!&@]g job, little clown

“I didn't mean—"

"Oh cry me a river, Ragatha.” Jax spats, his rage refueled by her unshed tears, his voice so laced in venom it’s a surprise he’s not choking on his words. “You don’t get to go around pretending you’re better than me when you’re dragging her name into this because you're desperate. You’re just a spoiled brat with mommy issues and everyone’s tired of your rainbows and flowers b[&%*!$@?]t, they’re just too nice to say it to your face.”

And thankfully the world seems to shift and fold into itself, and Pomni releases a breath she hasn't even noticed she's been holding— back to the main area, with Caine babbling away about the adventure and everyone else just standing there; Jax is impossibly still by her side, ears flat against his skull, his gaze fixed somewhere behind the central tent. She wraps her arms around her middle, looking around to maybe find Ragatha; and the doll is standing far away from them, eye still filled with tears, and Pomni forces her glance away.

"I'm out." Jax's voice comes too suddenly the very moment Caine stops talking, and his eyes fall on her for but a moment before he walks away; she's never seen this upset, not since the maid outfit fiasco.

(Something in the pit of her stomach churns.)

And Pomni doesn't really let herself think too much, just follows quickly after him, ignoring Zooble's annoyed protests. It's not difficult to catch up with Jax but it's as clear as day that he's still angry, shoulders too stiff, and for the moment she just walks by his side, not really paying attention to where they're going— it doesn't feel like the rabbit has a destination in mind, really, just ducking into corridors when he feels like it, until they're deep into the circus, the soft background music long gone, the colors twisting into grayish versions. Almost as if they're exploring an abandoned version that's been long forgotten, left to rot away, its inhabitans all but oblivious to its existence.

The familiarity makes her hesitate for a moment, body coming to a halt before her mind could catch up.

"What happened between you and Ragatha?"

She should've keep her mouth shut.

Jax stops dead on his tracks, turning around to stare at her; his grin is all wrong again, too twisted and carefully crafted to make it look real but she can see right through it, her stomach turning at the sight. It's nothing but a reminder of the gun battle, a painful one still, and Pomni feels herself wriggling her hands, anxiety building up too fast within her.

"Nothing." He states simply, voice flat. He's not even trying to lie, just rubbing it on her face as if she's dumb, or maybe it's just his way to ask her to shut up and let it go already— but she can't, not when he's looking like that. "She's annoying, 's all."

"You know you can say 'I don't wanna talk about it', right?"

shut up Pomni

"That'd imply there's something to talk about in the first place." Jax shrugs, the familiar smugness back to his face, but she can see his shoulders shuddering, can hear the thump-thump of his foot against the chessboard floor growing louder by the second, his agitation starting to rub off on her. “Nothing happened. Stop looking for things that don’t exist.”

And she should stop, she knows that.

"So one day you woke up and decided you just… hate her. No big deal?"

shut up

His grin widens dangerously.

"Oh, so you can be smarter than Kinger when you try."

She hesitates again, pressing her lips together. The vicious mockery doesn't hurt, not when she knows he doesn't mean it; it's everything else that bothers her, but it's her fault, really, for pushing, for thinking he'd trust her enough with anything but half-truths and sugar-coated white lies. And how many times has he said he doesn't care? One too many, that's for sure, and it still stings whenever she thinks about it.

just shut up and let it go

"Who was she talking about?"

His pupils shrink, face so empty, so void of expression it almost makes her feel like staring at a perfect statue, and Pomni snaps her mouth shut, pretends not to feel a shiver running down her spine at his gaze.

“Pomni.”

It feels like a warning, his tone too low, something too dangerous lurking behind the way he spoke her name; and there it is, that quiet, raw rage he always tries so hard to conceal as fake joy, shining so clear in his eyes it’s actually terrifying, and she feels herself taking a step away out of instinct, every sense on flight-or-fight mode, heart hammering against her chest— and he leans closer, towering over her, caging even without touching her at all, and god sometimes she forgets how tall he truly is.

“Stop. Prying.”

There’s something definite in his voice, cold and so uncanny, so unlike the Jax she knows, even different from the little show he’d put after the gun battle, leaving no room for her to do anything else but try to remember how to breath, heart pounding so loudly on her ears it's hard to think; and he seems to notice it, a hint of regret flashing by his eyes for a moment. He just clicks his tongue before backing away, hands deep into his pocket as he walks down the corridor and disappears into another corner.

This time, she doesn't follow.

She doesn't follow him; a small part of him wanted her to, a part too treacherous and too dangerous to listen to, especially when Pomni is around. He squashes it down quickly, silences the little voice before it can get too loud, pretends not to feel himself growling at his own dumb feelings. It's Ragatha's fault, really, for pushing him again, for not minding her own d[&!$] business when no one wanted her around. But then he goes around snapping at Pomni, right when things were… what? Getting better? As if he hasn't avoided her for hours yesterday.

He can't stop thinking about that look in her face.
About how scared she looked.

(Isn't that what you wanted? For them all to hate you?)

He scoffs at his stupidity, kicking a forgotten, broken toy out of his way. It's not fair now, not when she's seen so much, when she keeps digging through his walls. And he keeps letting her do that, doesn't he? When did he get this soft, this pathetic? Another growl ripples through his throat, another old prop kicked away. Why couldn't Ragatha keep her mouth shut for once? And he refuses to let his mind wander that path, refuses to think about Ribbit. If he's lucky, Pomni won't ask— no, he'll be lucky if the jester even talks to him again. The rabbit sighs, forces himself to keep walking, trying to circle back to the tent; it's been too long since he's walked that abandoned area and avoiding going back right to Pomni makes it worse.

(She probably left already anyway.)

For a second Jax lets himself worry, allows himself to wonder if she'd found her way back already or if she's lost in the maze of corridors he mindlessly dragged her into, but he pushes the thought away quickly, attention fully on his own problems. The jester is smart, someone that likes to explore ruined places like the decaying circus. She's probably having the time of her life all by herself, far away from him.

as she should

He drags a hand over his face, groaning. At least he's not stuck in some dumb adventure, forced to deal with Ragatha and her crocodile tears. Maybe, just maybe he should appreciate Pomni's stupid idea of turning him into her babysitter— another wave of guilt hits him, forcing his body into a short halt. He shouldn't have snapped at Pomni like that, not when they have no idea what that virus or whatever is, what really caused it or what could make it worse again; not that he should really worry that much, or at all. Caine is keeping his who-knows-how-many eyes on the jester, watching her code.

And Pomni is a grown up, for f[*$!]'s sake. She can go after the ringmaster herself if something happens.

(Not that anything will happen, of course.)

He forces himself into walking again, forces his thoughts away from Pomni. He shouldn't have let her get so close, it was a mistake and now— he grimaces. So much for not thinking about her, stupid rabbit. He needs to get back to his room and sleep for the rest of the week, at least. The circus music picks up again at last and Jax follows it, ignoring the stinging pain behind his eyes as the colors brighten up a bit too much, his mind taking a second to adapt to the real contrast around. It doesn't feel any better to be back to the main tent, to the fakeness of it all, the background soundtrack not enough to make the silence less overwhelming.

Maybe he should really set a prank or two on Ragatha's room, just to distract himself.

The rabbit barely notices the change of music when he turns into a corridor, mind lost on what he could be doing to the ragdoll's belongings to make her regret even waking up today— but the ghastly familiarity clings to him tight when he passes by a door he's never noticed before, his treacherous body stopping before his mind could catch up, and it's more than obvious to pinpoint from where the new music is coming from. It's soft, almost like coming from an old record player, and curiosity ends up winning him over easily.

It’s comfortably warm inside when Jax pushes the door open and slips inside, eyes scanning this surroundings— and it’s not a real room, not really, the impossibly large space resembling too much the tent from the traveling circus, lights not so dim like back then but he can see the empty seats, countless props carefully placed around the area, out of the way but within reach. He's not alone, and it's easy to spot Pomni on the other side of the stage, unaware of his presence, her attention on what seems to be a stubborn rope tied to one of the poles.

(It takes a whole hot second for his brain to process the sight, her jester clothes nowhere to be found, replaced by a simple red and blue leotard that looks more revealing than it should be, hair free from her jingling hat and falling around her shoulders; it’s so jarring he can feel his heart picking up the speed, his cheeks burning.)

“Jax?”

Her voice sounds loud in the quiet stage, her pinwheel eyes on him for nothing but a moment, and suddenly he’s too aware of himself, of how stupid he probably looks right now—  and then she looks away, her attention back to the rope as if he’s not standing right there, and that’s more than enough make him forget about any embarrassment trying to climb its way up to his brain, adrenaline too quick to replace it. He crosses the stage in too quick steps, grabs at the rope with too much force so she’d just stop messing with that.

(For a moment, he swears she flinches. It makes him feel like choking on guilt.)

"We back at the whole ignoring me game, really?”

The jester stares at him for a too long second, something crossing her face and gone before he could really think too much about it; frustration, maybe, the same one clinging to his back as if a too heavy shadow. But Pomni doesn’t grace him with an answer, just moves away to another pole, untying the rope and giving it a too hard tug before he could get close enough, disappearing in the darkness above the tent— and he waits, eyes never leaving the area he knows she should be, and it’s no surprise to spot her sitting on one of the hoops, the swirl too safe, moving down ever so slow under her weight.

“What else did you expect?” She asks after another moment of silence, and it’s hard to suppress the frustrated groan that almost escapes his lips. He gets closer instead, grabs the hoop when it gets within his reach. "You left me behind. You almost bit my head off.”

He has the decency to look away for a moment, trying to come up with something, anything that could justify that reaction— and he could blame it on Ragatha, he should. He wouldn't have snapped so badly, or at all, if the ragdoll hadn't said anything, anger too loud in his ears to hear anything but his own poisonous thoughts; but Pomni doesn't wait for his answer, just nudges him away gently and he moves back, allows himself to watch her for a moment as the jester is all the way up again. She looks comfortable in there, relaxed even, and maybe Caine didn’t really delete that particular piece of code from them her, maybe he put it back because the jester asked for it— it doesn’t matter, not right now.

"Maybe I was trying to get a taste, you never know."

And there’s a soft noise from above, something that almost resembles a quiet laughter, before she swings too close by, missing him by pure skill alone— and he takes the bait once more, without thinking twice, (he’s always this easy when it comes to her, isn’t he?), grabs the rope before she could get too far and pulls her against his chest, allows her to use his body as yet another prop.

"I'm not mad." Pomni offers at last, her eyes scanning his face for a moment, looking for something Jax couldn’t really understand nor would ever want to— and he’s unsure if she’s found anything, really, his attention drifting away when there’s a soft sigh coming from her, something between disappointment and quiet resignation. He doesn’t stop her when she disentangles herself from his grip, stealing the rope from his hand. “I'm just… disappointed.”

Something in her voice makes his stomach churn uncomfortably; the jester is gone from the ground before his brain could even process what she's just said, dangling dangerously on a trapeze, out of his reach again but he doesn't follow this time, doesn't dare move from his spot.

"Well, sorry I'm not living up to your expectations." He says instead, his grin too tight on his face; and he hates how difficult it's become to put up on the mask when it's just them, how vulnerable and empty he feels. He shouldn't be here. "Maybe I should just go back to my room and abstract for real this time, huh? Save you a lot of time and all that."

Pain takes over the side of his head for a moment and he can't bite back the startled yelp that escapes him, hand flying to his forehead to massage it and maybe, just maybe push the burning sensation away; some part of his mind registers Pomni glaring at him from the other side of the ring, breathing hard, eyes bright with unshed tears, another bowling pin in hand. Right, that makes sense.

"What the f[%!*] is wrong with you?!"

He swallows back the pain and any quirky rebuttal he could've come up with, ears drooping quickly, the weight of his words finally hitting him; he should learn how to keep his mouth shut. He should leave her alone already, should stop seeking her over and over— the second pin hits him square in the face, sending him right to the floor, pain blinding him for a good second or two. He's forgotten how strong Pomni can be, cartoon physics be f[*&!@$#]g damned, and there's no doubt he'd be bleeding if it was possible within the tent.

"This isn't—" She's stammering now, as if she can't find the right words to pour out all her feelings, and he feels like shrinking ever so slightly under her gaze, like a real rabbit caught by a predator; he's never seen her so enraged before, so ready to throw hands, not even their previous fights, and it takes him all of his self-control to stay in place. "Are you f[%*@!$&]g serious right now?!"

He should leave right now, every instinct on his body just telling him to run and pretend this whole situation never happened; the jester might've noticed something and she's by his side faster than it should be possible, her grip tight around his ear, almost painfully, tugging him to face her— Jax winces, scrambling to hold her wrist, trying to break free from her grasp but she holds his arm away easily.

He's really that pathetic for her, isn't he.

(She's crying; it's painfully obvious to notice when they're this close, quiet tears running down her reddened cheeks, and something gets stuck in his throat.)

"Repeat that." He presses his lips into a tight line, hissing under his breath when she tugs his ear harder, bringing him even closer to her face; he's breathing just as hard as her, every flight-or-fight instinct activated in his stupid rabbit body but he can't move, not when Pomni is holding him so tight. "You love to run your mouth, don't you? Then repeat that to my face."

"You're hurting me, Pom."

"Good." She yanks again, fingers digging deep into his sensitive skin, and he bites back a pained yelp, ignores tears prickling his eyes; there's only so much he can deal with and crying in front of Pomni is not going to be one of them anytime soon. "Because you sure love to go around hurting me just because you feel like it."

"I didn't mean it, for f[$#!]'s sake!" Jax growls, the stupid censor making everything ten times more annoying to deal with, and he finally finds enough ground to grab her wrist with his free hand, but it's not enough to ease her hold on him at all. "I say stuff I don't mean all the time!"

"Like how you don't care about me?" The jester ignores his feeble attempts at freeing himself, pinwheels eyes locked on his face. "Or how I'm your plaything?" And she gives his ear another tug, as if to emphasize the word; it still hurts her, all the things he's said that day, and it makes him look away quickly, the burning feeling at the bottom of his stomach growing worse by the second. "Because I'm starting to think that you really meant all of that."

There's a weird, almost deafening certainty on Pomni's voice, as if she's ready to give up on him, her fingers sliding away from his ear. Panic sets in too fast at the thought, almost knocking the air of his lungs— he should be happy, he should take the perfect opportunity to let her go but he can't, and it terrifies him to the core. He doesn't even notice when he holds her wrist, trying to keep her close, and she hesitates, waiting.

(His heart leaps within his chest under her scrutiny and the rabbit looks away again.)

"I didn't." His voice is no more than a whisper, the honesty so crude it startles him for a moment; but Pomni is still staring, her gaze softening, and he lets his hand fall to his lap, ears once more pinned against his skull. The pain is still there, still throbbing, but he ignores it. "I wanted to push you away. Didn't really work out, right?"

She half-laughs, half-sighs, and Jax feels every muscle of his body tensing up when she hugs him tight, pressing his face to her middle, fingers running ever so gently on his fur now and it's such a sharp contrast to everything she's been doing until now that his brain short-circuits, leaving him unable to do anything but sit there pathetically, eyes closed, limbs as useless as he feels.

"Stupid bunny." She whispers softly, a hint of regret in her voice, and Jax just chuckles weakly— only to find himself choking on his own breath when Pomni grabs his face, nudging him to look at her; they're so close he can feel her breathing against his skin and his stomach churns uncomfortably at the proximity he hasn't even noticed until now. "You make it really hard to like you, y'know?"

And a part of his brain jolts awake at that, clinging to her words as if she meant more than she really did because there's no way in that little hell Pomni, of all people, would even consider liking him; tolerating, sure, she's been doing that for a while, despite his best past efforts to keep her away. Their friendship is the weirdest thing he could even think about in the circus but— and then her lips are on his, soft and warm.

His whole world comes to a full stop.