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Pomni didn’t scream this time.
That was how Jax knew something was wrong.
She sat on the floor of the tent long after the lights shut off, knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing. Her eyes were open, but unfocused, like she’d paused mid-thought and forgotten how to resume.
The circus was quiet in that uncanny, after-hours way. No music. No laugh track. Just the low, electrical hum that never fully went away.
Jax hovered at the entrance.
He’d told himself—repeatedly—that this wasn’t his problem.
Pomni panicking was… kind of her thing. Everyone had a thing. Hers just happened to involve existential terror and crying on the floor.
Except she wasn’t crying.
She wasn’t shaking.
She wasn’t doing anything.
“…Huh,” Jax muttered. “That’s new.”
No response.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, Raggedy Anxiety. You gonna get up, or are we starting a new trend where we become floor decorations?”
Still nothing.
The silence pressed in.
Jax’s grin softened, just a fraction.
He stepped inside.
The floor creaked under his feet, exaggerated like everything else in the circus. Pomni didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.
He crouched a few feet away, keeping his distance.
“Okay,” he said, lighter than he felt. “I’m gonna say something mildly annoying, and you’re gonna glare at me. That’s how this works.”
He snapped his fingers. “Any second now.”
Her hands tightened in her sleeves.
That was it.
That tiny movement shouldn’t have felt like a punch to the gut, but it did.
“…Pomni?” he said, quieter.
Her breathing was shallow. Too shallow. Like she was afraid of taking up space.
Jax’s ears drooped before he could stop them.
He scooted closer.
“Hey. Clown Girl. You in there?”
Her lips parted.
“No,” she whispered.
The word cracked.
Jax froze.
Oh.
Oh, that was bad.
He’d seen this before—not here, not exactly, but… close enough. That blank, hollow look. Like someone had turned the volume down on their soul.
“Alright,” he said gently, which felt wrong in his mouth. “That’s fine. You don’t gotta be ‘in there.’ Just… don’t go too far, okay?”
Pomni swallowed.
“I can still hear it,” she said. “The music. Even when it’s off.”
Jax glanced up at the darkened lights.
“…Yeah,” he admitted. “It does that.”
She shook her head. “No. Not like that. It’s… it’s inside my head. Like it replaced my thoughts.”
Her voice started to wobble.
“I don’t know which ones are mine anymore.”
There it was.
The panic, finally surfacing—but slower. Heavier. Like sinking instead of falling.
Jax sat down beside her.
Not touching. Just close enough that she’d know he was there.
“That happens,” he said. “Sometimes.”
She looked at him then, eyes glassy.
“Does it… stop?”
Jax opened his mouth.
Closed it.
He could lie. He was very good at lying.
Instead, he shrugged. “It gets quieter. If you’re lucky.”
Pomni hugged herself tighter.
“I don’t feel real,” she whispered. “I feel like… like I’m buffering. Like if I move wrong, I’ll disappear.”
Her breath hitched.
Jax’s chest tightened.
“Okay,” he said quickly. “Hey. Look at me.”
She didn’t.
He leaned into her line of sight, waving a hand. “Pomni. Eye contact. Come on. I’m very distracting.”
A weak, almost imperceptible twitch of her mouth.
Good. Still there.
“Alright,” he said. “We’re gonna do something real boring. Ready?”
She hesitated, then nodded once.
“Cool. Name five things you can see.”
She blinked. “Your… ears.”
“Flattering.”
“The floor.”
“The tent pole.”
“The… um… your tail.”
“The lights. Even though they’re off.”
“Nice,” Jax said. “Four things you can feel.”
She shifted slightly. “The floor. It’s cold.”
“My sleeves.”
“My hands shaking.”
“And… you.”
He stiffened. “Me?”
“You’re… loud,” she said quietly. “In a good way. Like… static that doesn’t hurt.”
Jax looked away.
“…Three things you can hear?”
“The hum.”
“Your voice.”
“And… my breathing.”
It steadied, just a bit.
“Two things you can smell.”
She frowned. “Why do you smell like glue.”
“Hey, rude.”
“But it’s familiar,” she added quickly. “And… dust.”
“One thing you can taste.”
Pomni paused.
“…Fear,” she said.
Jax winced. “Yeah. Fair.”
They sat there for a while.
The circus didn’t interrupt.
Eventually, Pomni’s shoulders relaxed—just a fraction.
“I thought,” she said slowly, “that if I didn’t panic… it meant I was getting better.”
Jax snorted softly. “Nah. Sometimes it just means you’re tired.”
She leaned back against the pole, eyes closing.
“I don’t want to be alone when it happens,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to drag anyone down with me.”
Jax glanced at her.
“…You don’t,” he said.
She opened one eye. “I do. You’re here.”
He shrugged. “I was already down here. Low effort.”
She huffed a weak laugh.
Then, after a moment, she whispered, “Can you stay?”
The question landed carefully, like glass.
Jax stared at the floor.
This was the part where he made a joke. Deflected. Pretended he didn’t care.
Instead, he leaned back beside her.
“…Yeah,” he said. “I can do that.”
Pomni’s hand hovered near his sleeve.
Didn’t touch.
Jax noticed.
He gently hooked his pinky around hers.
She startled—but didn’t pull away.
Her grip tightened, just a little.
They sat like that as the circus hummed on around them, broken but quiet, not fixed—but not alone either.
And for now?
That was enough.