Chapter Text
Jax hasn’t slept in… a while.
He doesn’t count anymore.
It’s not like there’s night or day in this place, not really. Just cycles. Lights dim, lights up. Repeat.
But he knows.
Because everyone else rests.
And he doesn’t.
He tried once.
Closed his eyes.
Felt something pull.
Not physically. Worse.
Like if he let go for even a second—
he wouldn’t come back right.
So yeah.
He stays awake.
By the third “night,” it starts showing.
—You look… off —says Ragatha carefully.
Jax grins instantly.
Too fast.
—Wow, thanks. You always know what to say to a guy.
—That’s not what I—
—Relax, I’m glowing. It’s a new look.
But his voice drags a little at the edges.
And his eyes don’t quite focus.
He’s meaner too.
Not his usual annoying—worse.
Sharper. Targeted.
—Careful, Gangle —he says later, flicking one of her ribbons—wouldn’t want you falling apart again. Seems like a pattern.
She flinches.
Actually flinches.
—Jax —Ragatha snaps.
—What? I’m encouraging consistency.
From the corner, Zooble watches him.
Doesn’t laugh.
—You’re pushing it —they say flatly.
—That’s kind of my whole thing.
—No. This is different.
Jax tilts his head.
—What, you psychoanalyzing me now?
—I’m saying you’re acting like you want everyone to hate you.
He smiles wider.
—Oh, I don’t want it.
—I know it.
Silence.
Jax laughs.
Too loud.
—Wow. That’s deep. Did you come up with that yourself?
But something in his chest tightens.
Annoying.
Good.
That means it’s working.
If they hate him,
it won’t matter when they’re gone.
Simple.
Later, he’s alone again.
Of course he is.
He leans against the wall, staring at nothing.
His body feels wrong.
Heavy and light at the same time.
—Don’t sleep —he mutters.
—Don’t sleep.
—Don’t—
He presses his eyes shut for half a second.
There’s a flash.
A feeling.
A name—
He jerks back like he got burned.
—Nope.
Nope.
Not doing that.
His breathing’s off again.
Too fast.
—Get it together —he whispers.
—You’re fine.
He laughs.
Because that’s what he does.
The next cycle is worse.
—Okay, seriously —Zooble says—what is your problem today?
—Just today?
—Don’t.
Jax shrugs.
—Maybe I’m just bored of pretending you’re all tolerable.
—Then stop pretending —Zooble shoots back—. No one’s asking you to stay.
That lands.
Harder than it should.
Good.
That’s good.
—Trust me —Jax says lightly—if there was a way out, I’d be gone already.
—Yeah? —Zooble crosses their arms—. Or maybe you’d just run again.
Something twists.
—What’s that supposed to mean?
Zooble hesitates.
Just for a second.
Then—
—You always do this. When something actually matters, you bail. Or you turn into this—
they gesture at him—
—thing.
Jax’s smile freezes.
—Careful.
—No, seriously —Zooble keeps going—. The second anything real shows up, you act like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t affect you.
—It doesn’t.
—Yeah? —Zooble’s voice drops—. Is that why you haven’t slept?
Silence.
Too sharp.
Too accurate.
Jax laughs.
—Wow. You stalking me now?
—Is that why you’re worse lately? —they press—. Because if you slow down for one second, you might actually feel something?
—Shut up.
—Or is it because of them?
That word—
Jax’s hands curl.
—Don’t.
Zooble doesn’t notice.
Or maybe they do too late.
—Because last time, when you lost someone, you did the exact same—
—Don’t.
—but I guess some things never change, right? Since Rib—
—DON’T SAY THAT.
It snaps out of him.
Too loud.
Too fast.
Too real.
Silence crashes down.
Everyone’s staring.
Jax is breathing hard.
Like he ran.
Like he’s still running.
Zooble’s eyes widen.
—…oh.
Too late.
—Jax, I didn’t mean—
—Shut up.
But it comes out broken.
—Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t—
—STOP TALKING.
His vision blurs.
The room feels wrong again.
Too small.
Too loud.
Too much.
—Jax— Pomni steps forward.
He backs up immediately.
—Don’t.
His chest tightens.
Air won’t come in right.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
Not like this.
—Whatever —he chokes out—
And he turns—
and walks fast back to his room
He doesn’t stop until he’s alone.
Door slamming behind him.
Silence.
It hits all at once.
His hands shake.
His breathing breaks.
His thoughts won’t slow down—
—Don’t sleep
—don’t think
—don’t remember
—don’t—
He slides down the wall.
—It doesn’t matter —he gasps—. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter—
But it does.
God, it does.
He presses his hands to his head.
—It’s not real.
—It’s not real.
—They’re gone.
—It’s—
His voice cracks.
—…I didn’t—
He can’t finish it.