Chapter Text
Loneliness.
She'd feared it once before -in the real world- , but here she has the notion that it was utterly impossible to feel that, for better or for worse. There was always someone she could talk to. Someone who would invite her in, and listen to her if she need be. And even if that wasn't the case, there was the circus itself. Yes it was a harrowing cage, but it was a peculiar one to explore. That was always his forté.
But now? Now the circus felt barren. Like a colorful desert left long ago. Left more miserable and hopeless than it already was. The wounds they had all patched up had been forced to bleed out once again, most likely to fuel him. At the very least, that's how it felt. Not one of them knows what -and who- can be trusted anymore.
Most members of the circus, Pomni included, had retracted into their respective rooms, declining every single adventure that Caine had suggested, for numerous weeks.
[It was only natural, that we'd end up like this.], she thought to herself.
But she hadn't lost hope yet.
As absolutely insane as it seems to not immediately fall into a pit of despair, she did just that. It took a pep- talk in her mirror to get herself out of her room, but she eventually did.
Closing the door behind her, she glanced over at the one across from her that she'd become accustomed to. The door with the face of the man she'd come to... like? Cherish? Worry about? Seldom hate? To be honest, she never really understood her feelings for him at any stage of their relationship. Although these past few weeks to almost relate to him.
Sure he was an utter idiot and an [BOINK!]hole, but they now shared something in common: almost everyone thought they sucked. That didn't come quickly for her.
First it was Zooble, who could only glare at her after the... end of the adventure. Gangle soon followed after, and then came Ragatha. Admittedly, her dislike was a bit more surprising to come to terms with. She's nice to everyone after all, right? But she couldn't blame her. She couldn't blame anyone; not even herself.
They ultimately knew whose fault it was, but she knew who the blame would fall on. The two who the blame would fall on, to be exact.
And so, she didn't dare to knock on any doors, nor think about everything for far too long. She simply wandered off, away from the hallway, glossing over her oversaturated surroundings. She just kept walking, for no apparent reason other than to walk. She found herself thinking back to all the walking -moreso pacing around- she'd done back home. It always seemed to soothe her. Maybe that is why she's walking around now.
Suddenly, something seemed to snap her out of her walk down memory lane; the hum of TV static, and the rapid switching of voices. Someone was switching through channels on a TV, it seemed. A TV that she doesn't remember ever existing in the circus.
She headed on over to where the sound came from, and soon enough she came across a place resembling a living room. With an avatar resembling a bunny she thought was in his room, flicking through various channels. She found herself pausing right behind him, unsure of what to say.
She fidgeted with the hem of her glove, thinking of something casual to say to strike up a conversation.
[Hey, how's it going?]
She already knew the answer to that.
[Mind if I join you?]
Yes, he probably would.
[I think I've finally grasped how alienated you are from the rest of the circus, and can understand why you do the things you do?]
That's not even an option.
As she was thinking, she watched a few seconds of every TV show he skimmed through. Bubble was for some reason in almost every single one, each with him in various roles.
"Why is Bubble in all of these?"
She muttered, mainly out of confusion, but also in the hopes she reached her 'casual conversation starter' goal. To her surprise, she ended up startling him, and he stopped his zapping.
He looked back, facing her, his irises swimming in a pool of yellow for a few seconds. He then regains his composure, shrugs unenthusiastically, and turns back to watch TV.
[Not even a response, huh? She thought. Real mature of you.]
But in reality, she felt a little disappointed that he hadn't answered with a mean joke, or something else that she's used to. He's different now, but not a different she can grow to tolerate.
Without contemplating too much about it, she was already sitting down next to him, the cushions below her making an embarrassingly loud squeaky noise as she did.
"Is the entire couch made out of rubber chickens or something..?"
She mumbled under her breath, annoyed.
"I wish we had some of those in the circus."
Jax chimed in, his tone almost nostalgic.
Pomni turned her head towards him, startled to finally hear him speak. She, out of instinct, prepared a comeback.
"Yeah, so you could shove them down our throats or something."
She chuckled.
Jax put a hand to this chest and gasped in mock offense.
"Me?! How dare you accuse me of such behaviors?"
It felt like an enormous weight off her shoulders; she knew there were still a lot of things they should be discussing, but she knew this was a start. For him, at least.
[Is that a rude thing to think? Considering everything he's said to me, probably not. Although-]
"I'd probably just annoy you with them."
He replied, an odd amount of sincerity in his tone.
She lied back, the couch squeaking once again in response.
"Why do you like rubber chickens this much?"
[It's probably a childhood thing, isn't it?]
He put some thought into replying, which surprised her.
"I don't know... they just remind me of..."
He abruptly lost his trail of thought, his eyes dodging hers. Before Pomni could begin to ask what was wrong, his mask was already pulled way up high, and his entire expression changed.
"Of little ol' Ribbons whenever she opens her mouth, obviously."
He finally stated, a smirk plastered all over his face.
[Ok so, my initial assumption was definetly wrong.]
She rolled her eyes, unamused.
"Sure, buddy." His smirk fell just a bit, and his eyes wandered over to hers.
"What, unpopular opinion?"
"Yeah, so unpopular that I'm quite sure you don't even believe in it."
She looked over to the television.
He scoffed, his persona fighting to be kept up a little longer.
"You quite like theorizing about me, don't you? Makes you feel so intelligent, I bet."
[Great, here we go again.]
"It's no longer a theory when I have a mountain of evidence."
"Oh really?!"
He bites back, only to be cut off.
"Listen, you can keep having the same internal monologue, but I'm not going to continue arguing about this."
She turns to him, her expression tired.
"I never wanted to argue in the first place."
He turns quiet, his voice nearly a whisper.
"Like I wanted to argue..."
"You wanted to defend your delusions and not accept my help."
His volume accelerates just a bit.
"Who said I ever wanted your help?"
She sighs, exhausted.
"If you didn't want my help, you would've walked off the moment I came in here."
She fidgets with the hem of her glove, worried he'll react the same way as before.
[Why are we so back-and-forth, yet so idle?]
She huffs, disappointed at his silence.
[I shouldn't be giving up on him like this, but it just seems so...]
A moment passes. She gets up.
[It's his problem to deal with.]
She sighed once more, and began to walk away. One step after another, they grew apart in a myriad of ways, yet neither wanted to close the distance.
[I can't always be the one reaching out (no matter how much I want to keep doing so). It gets exhausting.]