Chapter Text
“You were abstracting.”
Any joke or sidestep to answering Zooble’s question dies in Jax’s throat at Pomni’s whisper.
“Excuse me?”
Her eyes are wide and horror frames every line of her face, “You- right before you pressed that button I saw your eyes!”
Jax crosses his arms and scoffs, leaning back as Dr. Harmon tugs Zooble away from him, “Uh huh, I had eyes, all of us had eyes. ‘cept Gangle.”
“No, no no no, don’t do this! Don’t just-” Pomni gets to her feet, “Don’t shut us out! Not now, Jax. We’re not just cartoon characters, we’re real people who really care about you.”
She takes a step forward and it takes every instinct honed over the years to keep his façade of unbothered calm from cracking with the spark of anxiety snapping through Jax right now. Pomni is the only person he’s gotten close to in years, the only person since-
R̷̗̊͝ ̵͓̿̀ ̸̭̅͘ ̴̙̄ ̷̙͝I̶̘̪͔̍ ̴̺͒̒̕ ̴̧͉̿̈̏ ̶̮̞̦̉̌̈ ̴̢͇̫̒B̸͈̗̋̍̉ ̶̬̟͚̿͋ ̶͚̘̓ ̷̱͔̚͠ ̵̡̟̇̊̃B̸͍͇̺̋́ ̶̫̥̔̄ ̷̧̮̑̽ ̶̬̼̽ ̵̞̳̠̈́̒I̵̗͔̐͌͝ ̴͎̯̿̕ͅ ̵̞͖͑̀̃͜ ̷͙͔̿̀̎ ̶͓̼̇̋͋T̴̠̓̄
-that he’s felt any sort of safe around. And that makes her dangerous.
“You don’t have to be ‘the funny one’ out here, you can just be Jax.” Her eyes soften, “Or you could be Felix again, if you wanted.”
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Jax turns on his heel and is out the door before anyone can stop him.
His skin is crawling with static and his ears are ringing. His hands are numb and his feet are moving without his direction. His stomach roils and his lungs grasp for air.
Jax finds himself shoving the door to the men’s bathroom open as his gut gives a painful lurch seconds before he expels the meager remains of breakfast Pomni’s mom had made them.
Acid lines his throat as half digested toast and eggs splatter against the uneven tiles. The sharp tang of bile stings his nose and Jax leans against a urinal as he clutches his stomach. A second wave of nausea sends him to his knees with a groan.
One arm finds another and he finds a familiar spot to dig.
Jax is the only one here. Felix is dead and gone and he needs to stay that way.
Jax is strong and witty and sarcastic and doesn’t care about anyone.
Felix is weak and stupid and obedient and l̷̛̯̗̏͌͌̿̚ó̷͕v̷̨̢͍͇͓̐ȇ̸̘̓̅̀ș̸͎͉̈́̂̂̚ ̵̰́̔h̷̖͠i̸͇̰̬̮͖̔̉͜s̴̙͑̽̆̂̽̈ ̸̤͌́́̌̊d̷̨͚̳̐̉a̶̩̓̀̚ḍ̸̢̨̭̹̹̄ḍ̶̡̇̒̄̀ỵ̸̤̿̈́ ̶̟̎̾͝ș̶̢̠͓̒ȏ̶̪̗̯̻̈́͐͑̆ ̵̲̗̪͝s̵͚͈̻̰͍̀́ǫ̶̡̦͋̀͑́̓͝ ̴̩̪̣̃̌͆͘m̷̼̼͌͐͛̒̈́͜͜͠u̵̠̜̿̎͌̚ć̸̫̬̻͕͊͒̈́h̵̰͔͑͗̂ ̶̦̰̎̀̊̋͘͠I̴̤̮͐͊̍͠ ̴̬̰̠͎͛̒ṕ̷͓͛̂́͝r̷̡̺̾͂̈̚o̶̡̢̻͙͙̐͗m̶̡͕̗̉̾̆̈́̇̽ī̶̺͇̹̙͌̾̎̕̚ș̸̢̖̲̹̇̆è̴̖̲͔ͅ ̴̢̳̤̼͓̈́͠Í̵̻͇͎̆͊̐͑͋ ̶̧͉̼͉͎͕̅ļ̸͓̫͕̬͊͆̃̑̿ȏ̸̠͇̱̻̲͒͑͜v̸̝͖͎̫͆ę̸͇̝̓ ̵͚̟̺͈͗̿͜y̴̧̢̨̙͆o̴͉̅̍u̸͕̲͉̩̤͐̅̇̿̽̍͜ ̸̡̢̬͕̺̘̍̽͑͝I̷͎͎͔͝ ̵̢͉̺̭̤̱͆̂͒̌̚l̷̦̼͓̩̹̩͊͗̒͘͝ơ̶͖͓͑́̍̇ͅv̷̙͂e̸̞͔̟͕̮͚̊̉͂̆ ̶͔̱͇͔̈́̎ÿ̷͎́̽ö̴̳̼̕ǘ̶̹̣͈̮ ̸͈̦̠̫͛Ḯ̷̦̏̾̅̄͠ ̴͚̳͖̲̈́̊l̷̖̲͌̅̃ͅơ̶͎̰͒̑̓̔͜v̸͔̄̓͆̕è̸̗͎̄͒̎ ̶̨̦͎͍͔̎̈́̍̅ÿ̶̳̹̎̈̈́o̴̦̝͔̞͊͆͂̋͌͂ủ̴͎̥̺͇̰́̍ ̵̦̳̘́̒̅͌Į̷͔͇̲̻͔̈́́̇̈͋͛ ̸͎͚͂̀̑ͅp̸̞̘̟̪̩̈́̌̏͝͝r̵͙͖̱͉̥͝ŏ̷̝͑̊͜m̵̢̛͎̯̳̣̼̉̒̐̇i̴̧͓͇͈͂̐̌̑̚͜͝ṡ̸͓̮͕̯͍̃̆͊ę̶̼̏ ̸̻͍̼̫͛͊̽̈́̕̚I̸̱͍̝̎̾̃ ̶̲̠͛̚ͅs̵͚̜̟̲̅̓̄̃̓͊ͅͅw̵̡̠̝͈͔͕̋̑̍̋̕e̷̡̜̩̪̣̐͛́̇̕͝ͅấ̸̙͝r̸̡͎̗̍̾̔͊-
Hot, sticky comfort gushes under his nails and Jax can feel Felix inside him, that disgusting little worm that just won’t disappear!
His arm throbs with pain underneath his brace as he continues to claw at the exposed skin.
The pool of sick on the floor sends another wave of retching. The pool of red forming beneath him sends a rush of relief.
There he goes, there goes little Feely. Jax grins through the cramping pain in his stomach. Nothin’ but Jax here.
There’s a chk-REEEEEEE as the door is once again pushed open.
“Jax? You in here, bunny boy?”
Jax’s shoulders snap to his ears. Out of everyone, he never would’ve expected-
“Get outta here, Zooble, this is the men’s restroom. Can’t you read?”
“Yeah, I can read, dumbass, bu- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Jax’s eye twitches as Zooble sprints the rest of the distance from the door to wrench his braced arm up and away from him, “Ow, hey! Easy there, mix ‘n match, that arm’s still broken!”
Zooble’s brown eyes are locked on the – okay, maybe I overdid it a little – gashes in his right arm that are leaking unhealthy amounts of bodily fluids onto the floor. When they finally look him in the eye, even Jax’s practiced mask falters at the-
They’re scared.
Why are they scared?
“Jax-” They shake their head and drag him over to the paper towel dispenser. Zooble grabs fistful after fistful of paper and roughly shoves them onto the wound, squeezing so tight Jax is fairly certain it’s going to bruise.
He starts to apply pressure as well, wincing at the tackiness of the blood drying on his palms.
Neither of them say anything for a long moment. All their focus is on making sure the wound is covered and the tide of blood is stemmed.
But all good things must come to an end.
“… what the fuck is going on, Jax?”
He’s already pulling on his good old trusty Circus grin, “Oh, y’know, just getting ready to make blood sausages. You should try it, they’re surprisingly-”
“Cut the bullshit.”
His mouth snaps shut at the glare they’re leveling at him. Normally, Zooble’s anger wouldn’t bother him. If anything, it would fuel his jokes and pranks and carry him along on a cloud of fury that he could direct with the skill of a maestro.
But this isn’t just anger. The fear and concern twisted in make this particular cocktail of rage repulsive.
“Jax…” Zooble seems to struggle with what to say, “I know that we’re- I know we kind of- Okay. Look. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if I’ve got a grudge or you’ve got a problem with me, or whatever.”
They take a deep breath, “Whatever had you freaking out back there and- I guess in here too, huh? You gotta talk to someone. Cause this?” They squeeze his arm and a pained groan jumps out before he can snatch it back into his throat, “This isn’t okay.”
They grab more paper towels and twist them tight into a rope, “For the next twenty minutes, just pretend you don’t know me. I’m just some random person who happened to come into the bathroom while you were bleeding and I’m helping patch you up. ‘s there anything you wanna get off your chest?”
Jax scoffs and moves his hand as they start to tie the paper ropes around the soaked through towels, “Please, I know you’re just gonna parrot whatever I say back to the others.”
“What others? I’m just a random person coming in from a… fuck, what do people do in community centers? Council meetings?”
Jax rolls his eyes as they roll another paper rope, “Doesn’t matter, cause you’re not just a random NPC, and this isn’t the Circus. You can’t just ‘power of friendship’ your way into knowing whatever it is you think I’m hiding!”
Zooble growls and throws the rope down, “Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep avoiding every question we ask?!”
They toss their hands up and start to pace, “You did it in the Circus, you did it during adventures, you barely gave the police any information when we first got out, why do you think we’re going to use whatever you’re hiding against you?!”
Jax winces and grabs another paper towel, “I’m avoiding them because they’re boring! Why would I waste my time talking about things that don’t matter when I could be having fun?”
“Well they clearly do matter!” Zooble gestures to the pile of cold vomit on the tile and the congealing puddle of blood next to it, “Otherwise this wouldn’t have happened!”
Jax doesn’t bother with an answer, trying and failing to tie the paper towel as tightly as Zooble did with only one free hand. His scratched up arm no longer throbs with heat and pain, only static and cold.
The bluette grunts and walks back over, “Just- let me.”
The paper towel rope ties tightly over the makeshift bandage, “… why won’t you let us help you?”
He can’t answer them. He can’t answer because telling them would reveal the cracks in the role of ‘Jax’ that he’s been so careful in hiding for years. And if someone saw those cracks, if someone knew that he wasn’t as indestructible as he projected himself to be-
“What’s so scary that you won’t let yourself look at it?”
Jax flinches away, tucking his arm against his shirt, “I’m not-”
“Don’t do this. Not now,” Zooble closes their eyes and takes a deep breath.
When their eyes open, all the frustration and anger is gone. All that remains is concern.
It feels like poison.
And Jax can’t help but swallow.
“I-” He licks his lips and grimaces at the taste of bile, spitting into the sink next to them, “Eugh. Gross.”
Zooble huffs a laugh and ties a third paper rope around his arm, “Yeah, might wanna wash your mouth out.”
Jax stares at the three ties on his arm, at the wadded up, blood soaked paper towels covering up his self-inflicted slash wound.
“… I need to keep it up ‘til the hearing’s over.”
Zooble glances up at his face, “… okay. And what about after that?”
Jax winces and stands in front of the sink. Something hazy at the edges of his mind whispers about the last time he was in a public bathroom. Even if it was all digital.
“… make some toast and-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat, “and we can talk.”
He must have given the right answer because Zooble nods slowly and leans against the wall, “Alright. After the hearing, then.”