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It was late Monday night, and the bar was, unsurprisingly, quiet.
Not empty. Never empty. Just… quiet.
The usual hum of the city dulled at the edges here, filtered through old wood and low lighting. A pair of men lingered over a game of pool, the sharp crack of balls breaking cutting clean through the low murmur of conversation. Somewhere behind Pomni, a booth erupted into laughter before settling again into something quieter, more conspiratorial.
Glasses clinked. Ice shifted. The soft whirr of the minifridge below the counter.
It was all routine noise. Safe noise.
Pomni focused on that as she dried the freshly cleaned glasses, her movements slow and rhythmic, soothing in their repetition. It gave her something to focus on—something that wasn’t the counter behind her.
More specifically, the one sitting there.
Jax.
He had been sitting at the counter for close to an hour, nursing a single drink like he had nowhere else to be. Like he intended to stay.
Pomni could feel it without looking—the weight of his gaze, heavy and deliberate, tracking every movement of her hands. The back of her neck prickled under it, her shoulders stayed just a little too tense.
She set a finished glass down with a soft clink. Without looking, she reached for the next one and started the motions all over again.
Mondays were some of her favourite shifts. In a city that never slept—too loud, too bright, too alive—the small hole-in-the-wall she worked at stayed mostly overlooked.
Quiet. Manageable. Safe.
“You know,” Jax drawled, voice low and lazy, “you could quit this shabby job.”
Her hand stilled mid-motion. It was for just a second before it resumed, slower now. There was a breath before she answered. “Jax.”
Tight. Controlled. A warning. She still didn’t look at him. Instead, she lifted the glass toward the light, inspecting it with unnecessary care. There was a faint smear near the rim, barely there. She wiped it again anyway.
Bought herself time. Bought herself distance. It didn’t help.
“Caine’s offer is still open,” he added.
Of course it was. It always was.
Pomni set the glass down harder than she meant to. The sound snapped sharper than the others, drawing a brief glance from one of the patrons before they looked away again.
She reached for another glass and found none left. Damn it. Which meant—
Pomni turned, because she had to.
Jax made a long, exaggerated groan the second their eyes met, slumping further over the counter like he’d been waiting just for this moment. His chin dropped onto his arm, head tilted as he looked up at her—studied her, like she was something interesting. Like she was something he’d already decided on.
Pomni’s fingers tightened slightly around the cloth.
“Busy night?” he asked, voice edged with amusement.
Pomni resisted the urge to throw the dish towel at his stupid rabbit face.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t give him that. Instead, she pivoted away, moving down the bar with purpose she didn’t entirely feel. A woman approached at the same time, and Pomni latched onto the interruption like a lifeline.
“Hi, what can I get you?”
“A pink gin, please.”
“Of course.”
Pomni moved quickly—grabbing the glass, the ice scoop, the bottles. The familiar motions steadied her, gave her something solid to hold onto. She could feel him still. Even with her back turned, it was like heat, like pressure—like something pulling at her spine, urging her to look.
She didn’t.
The woman paid, thanked her, and returned to her group.
Silence rushed back in. And just like that, Pomni looked.
Jax hadn’t moved. His eyes were still on her, pupils blown wide against yellow, swallowing more and more of the colour the longer she held his gaze. There was something in it. Something sharp. Something hungry, almost.
Pomni broke eye contact first, jaw tightening. God, she hated that. Hated that he could just sit there and wait, knowing she’d come back to him like a bad habit. Like—no, worse. Habits didn’t look at her like that.
Jax tapped a finger idly against the rim of his glass. “You can’t ignore me forever.”
Pomni proved him wrong by doing exactly that—straightening bottles, adjusting taps, wiping down surfaces that didn’t need wiping.
The pool balls cracked again behind her—louder this time. Someone cursed. A chair scraped harshly across the floor. She focused on that. On the rhythm of it. On anything but—
“Pomni,” Jax sang, light and lilting.
Her stomach flipped. Annoyance, she told herself. It was just irritation. That was all.
A rustle of fabric. The creak of his stool. She glanced over despite herself.
Jax had sat up. That alone shouldn’t have mattered. And yet, something in the shift changed the air between them. Less lazy. Less distant. More… intentional.
He leaned forward slightly, forearms braced against the counter now, his attention sharpened into something that felt a little too direct. Too focused. Too close, even from across the bar.
Pomni swallowed and looked away again.
Jax was dangerous. She knew that. Had known it even before she’d learned what he did, who he worked for. She’d seen it in the way he handled trouble. The way he didn’t hesitate. He’d stepped in more than once—rowdy patrons, wandering hands, drunken aggression. Met violence with violence like it was nothing.
And still—
There was something else, too.
Something unpredictable. One moment, all easy charm and crooked smiles, the kind of man who could pull laughter from a room without trying.
The next—
This. Focused. Quiet. Watching like he was seeing more than he was letting on.
He was exactly the kind of man she shouldn’t get involved with—straight out of some dark romance novel she definitely didn’t read. (And okay, maybe she did. Sometimes. Whatever.) Either way, she’d drawn a line and she wasn’t crossing it.
Pomni shouldn’t like it. Shouldn’t feel that flicker of interest curl low in her stomach. Shouldn’t—
“Seriously, Pompom,” he said, softer now, like he’d stepped closer without moving at all, “you could be making triple what this place pays.”
“I’m not quitting my job,” she shot back, sharper than before.
He huffed out a breath, dragging a hand through the tuff of fur on his cheek. “You’re wasting a perfect opportunity.”
Her gaze flicked across the room again, checking for prying ears. No one was listening. Still, she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “And live in constant fear of being caught?”
Jax’s grin returned—slow this time, deliberate. “That’s the thrill of it, sweetheart.” He spread his arms, careless and open, but his eyes never left hers. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy it. The adrenaline. The danger.”
Pomni’s pulse jumped.
She opened her mouth—closed it, because he was right. And the way his smile shifted—smaller, sharper, satisfied—said he knew it too.
“See?” he murmured, leaning in just enough to narrow the space between them. Not touching, not quite, but close enough that she was suddenly very aware of where he ended and she began. “Everyone’d be happy if you came on full-time.”
Pomni should step back. She didn’t. “There’s more to it than that,” she said instead, turning away again—because looking at him felt like a mistake she kept making, couldn’t stop making.
The air felt different with her back to him. Worse. Because now she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. The way his attention followed her, settled between her shoulders, slid lower—
God.
She exhaled, frustrated, and turned back, crossing her arms like that would anchor her somehow. “My family,” she said, jaw tight, “will not accept no explanation if I suddenly quit with nothing lined up.”
“Then lie,” Jax said easily.
“You’ve not met my family.”
“Oh?” His grin came back, bright and sharp. He leaned closer again—closer than before, invading space like he expected her to give ground. She didn’t. “Am I finally getting some juicy details?”
“If I quit without explanation,” she said, each word clipped, “they’ll think I’m having a psychotic episode and stage an intervention.”
Jax barked a laugh. It broke the tension for half a second and then snapped right back when she didn’t laugh with him. “You’re joking.” Pomni held his gaze. Didn’t blink. The laughter faded. “You’re not joking.”
“No.”
The shift was immediate. Jax leaned back slightly, something real flickering across his face—surprise, yes, but something else under it. Something quieter. “Holy shit.”
The words made her skin crawl. Not because of what he said—but because suddenly she felt seen in a way she hadn’t agreed to.
Pomni’s arms were less crossed and more hugging now, fingers pressing into her sleeves.
“I was a sick kid,” she said, the words awkward, heavier than she wanted them to be. Her gaze dropped. “They just… never stopped worrying. Even after I got better.” A pause. “Moving out wasn’t me growing up to them.” A small, humourless huff. “It was rebellion.”
Silence stretched between them. Long enough that she almost filled it, but then—
“Caine could put you on payroll.”
Pomni blinked, looking up. Jax hadn’t moved closer. But the edge was gone. No teasing. No smugness. Just… steady.
“He owns a company,” he went on. “All legit. You’d have paperwork, income—something to show them.” His voice had dropped, quieter now. Not soft—not quite—but closer to it than she’d ever heard. “He likes you, Pomni,” Jax added. “We all do.”
Something in her chest tightened.
“And if you need a cover story…” he shrugged, gaze still fixed on hers, “he’d give you one in a heartbeat.”
Pomni swallowed. The room felt too warm all of a sudden. Too small. Too—
A patron stepped up to the bar. “Hey, can I get—”
“Yeah,” Pomni said quickly, already turning away. “Yeah, of course.”
Her hands weren’t as steady this time as she reached for a glass. She tried to focus on the drink. On the motion of it. On the noise of the bar rising just enough to fill the space again.
Anything to steady herself.
Anything to not turn back.
Behind her, Jax didn’t speak again. Didn’t push.
And somehow, that felt worse.
*
Her shift ended three hours later, midnight on the dot.
She was always the first to be let off on nights like this as the only woman on shift. A lone woman walking home at night could be perceived as vulnerable. At least, that was what her manager had said when he’d started the arrangement.
Now—with the way the man always sweats and gets nervous around Jax, she was fairly certain Jax had something to do with that.
Speaking of Jax—
He was waiting for her just outside the door, hands loosely tucked into his pockets, coat pulled close against the mid-spring chill. The neon sign above the bar flickered faintly, washing him in alternating pink and blue.
Pomni stopped dead in her tracks.
“No,” she said flatly.
Jax’s grin only widened. “Whaaat? I didn’t say anything.”
“You are not walking me home,” Pomni stated, already stepping past him onto the pavement.
The city greeted her like it always did at night—alive in a quieter, stranger way. Hover-ads flickered across building faces, their light reflecting in rain-slick patches along the street. A tram glided past at the far end of the block with a soft electric hum, windows glowing warm against the dark.
Jax fell into step beside her anyway.
“And what if,” he said lightly, rocking his head side to side, ears flopping, “I’m coincidentally going the same way?”
Pomni inhaled slowly through her nose. Don’t engage. Do not engage. His grin widened in her peripheral vision. Damn it.
“You’re not,” she said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
She shot him a look. “Jax.”
Jax dropped his voice into a stage whisper. “Pomni.”
She exhaled sharply and kept walking. Her boots hit the pavement in steady, purposeful beats, weaving past the late-night crowd—clusters of people spilling out of bars, a couple arguing under a streetlamp, a group of teens laughing too loudly as they passed.
She focused on that. On the rhythm of the city. On the glow of signage reflecting in the glass of storefronts. Certainly not on the man walking just a little too close at her side.
“You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me,” Jax said after a moment.
“Seeing you earlier was more than enough.”
“Ouch.” Jax laughed something low and amused, and something in her chest tightened in response, traitorous.
Pomni shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, curling her fingers into the fabric. “Go home, Jax.”
“I am.”
She stopped walking.
He took two more steps before noticing, then turned back, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“This—” she gestured vaguely between them, at him, at the street, at the audacity of him existing in her space, “—this isn’t happening.”
Jax looked around, slow and exaggerated, then back at her. “Looks like it is.”
Pomni stared at him. She hated him. Hated that he looked good under the streetlights, shadows cutting sharply along his face, his expression all easy confidence, like he hadn’t just inserted himself into her night again.
Hated that some part of her—small, buried, and stubborn—was already factoring him into the walk.
“Fine,” she muttered finally, starting forward again. “But you’re not getting on the tram.”
“Wow,” Jax said, falling into step instantly. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She shot him another look. He just smiled.
*
The tram stop was lit in cool white and soft blue, a digital display flickering overhead with arrival times. A handful of people waited—an older man scrolling through something on his phone, a couple pressed close together, whispering.
Pomni moved to stand near the edge of the platform. Jax stood right next to her without missing a beat. Because of course he did.
She could feel him again—heat through layers of fabric, the subtle shift of his weight, the way his presence seemed to press into her space without actually touching.
Too close. Not close enough. Annoying. Infuriating.
“Still time to change your mind,” he sang.
She didn’t look at him. “No.”
“Tragic.”
The tram slid into the station with a soft hum, doors opening with a quiet hiss. Pomni stepped on without hesitation. Jax followed. She didn’t even bother protesting this time. She was too tired. Too used to it.
The carriage wasn’t crowded, thankfully. A few scattered passengers, heads down, lost in their own worlds. The lights overhead were dimmer than the platform, casting everything in a softer glow that was easy on her eyes.
Pomni grabbed one of the vertical poles, bracing herself as the tram lurched into motion. Jax didn’t take a pole. He just stood there like a show off.
He was close enough that when the tram shifted, his arm brushed her shoulder—light, fleeting, but just enough to send a spark down her arm.
Pomni stiffened, but she refused to move way. Refused to give Jax more leverage, so she just—stayed where she was.
“You’re tense,” he murmured.
“Jeez, I wonder why.”
“Mm.”
She could feel his gaze on the side of her face. Pomni refused to turn; she wasn’t going to give him anything.
The city blurred past outside the windows—layers of glass and steel and light, holo-ads drifting lazily in the air between buildings, traffic flowing in quiet, controlled streams below.
Pomni watched it instead, anything to focus on something that wasn’t the purple rabbit standing beside her.
“Y’know,” Jax said after a beat, “if you joined us, you wouldn’t have to take public transport.”
She huffed. “Oh, is that one of the perks? Crime and a company car?”
“Among other things.”
“Pass.”
“You didn’t even ask what the other things were,” he complained.
“I don’t need to.”
Jax grinned. “But you’re curious.”
“I’m not.”
“You so are.”
She turned her head then, just enough to glare at him. Big mistake—he was closer than she expected. Or maybe she’d just forgotten. Either way—
Her breath caught, just slightly.
His eyes dropped—quick, subtle—to her mouth before flicking back up again.
Pomni’s pulse stuttered. Annoyance, she told herself. It was just annoyance at him and his stupid face.
“You’re insufferable,” she said around the lump in her throat.
“And yet,” Jax murmured, eyes lidded in that smug way, “you keep talking to me.”
The tram rocked gently, and this time when it shifted, his hand came up—just for a second—bracing against the pole beside hers. Close enough that his fingers brushed the back of her hand. Accidental. Probably. Still—
Pomni’s grip tightened.
Her stop. She needed to—
“Hey,” Jax said suddenly.
Pomni blinked. “What?”
“Your stop.”
Her head snapped toward the display. Shit. The doors were already sliding open.
Pomni moved quickly, slipping past him and out onto the platform just before they began to close again. Jax followed easily, like he’d never been at risk of missing it.
“You were just gonna let me ride past?” she snapped.
“I literally just told you.”
“At the last second!”
He grinned. “You’re welcome.”
Pomni huffed and started walking again, faster this time.
The streets here were quieter, more residential. Older buildings pressed close together, their exteriors worn but solid. Fire escapes zigzagged up the sides in dark metal lines, some dotted with hanging plants or stray lights.
The familiarity of it was grounding. The brightness and noise and atmosphere that encompassed most of the city were absent here—its foundations were much too old to be considered stylish these days.
Jax kept pace with her effortlessly.
“Ten-minute walk,” he remarked.
Pomni bristled. “I know where I live.”
“Just making conversation.”
“Don’t.”
He chuckled under his breath, which just irked Pomni further.
They passed a corner store just closing up, the owner pulling down the shutter with a rattling clang. A stray cat darted across the street, disappearing into an alley. Pomni shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.
“You’re not even trying to get rid of me anymore,” Jax noted, pleased.
“I’m tired.”
“Mm. That’s fair.”
A pause. Then—
“I could stay over.”
Pomni stopped so abruptly that he nearly walked into her. “Absolutely not.”
He laughed. She started walking again, faster. But that meant nothing when she was so short and Jax was unfairly tall.
Her building came into view at the end of the block—reds and grey brick exterior, a little worn, fire escapes climbing the front like metal veins. The entryway light flickered faintly. Home sweet home.
Pomni reached the door, fishing her keys out of her pocket. A quick glance showed Jax was still right behind her, because of course he was. He flashed her a smile.
The lock buzzed with a swipe of her fob, and Pomni jerked her head around, pushing the entry door open.
Pomni stepped inside, and Jax followed. She didn’t try to question it. Didn’t even argue. She merely let the door fall shut behind them with a dull, final thud.
She sighed, long and exhausted, already heading for the lift.
“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered.
Jax’s footsteps echoed behind her, unhurried. “Yeah,” he said easily. “But you let me in.”
*
The lift was slow and old. It creaked faintly as it climbed, numbers ticking up one by one in a dim orange glow. The mirrored panelling was slightly warped with age, bending reflections just enough to feel off. It was held in place these days with tape and the hope that it wouldn’t come loose on the occupants.
Pomni leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed firmly on the flickering numbers above the door. Jax stood beside her, relaxed as could be.
He wasn’t standing so close as to touch her but close enough that every subtle shift of his weight registered, every breath.
The lift gave that familiar jolt as it passed the fourth floor.
Pomni exhaled through her nose. “Do you ever stop?” she asked, staring straight ahead.
“Depends,” Jax said easily. “Do you ever stop being stubborn?”
She didn’t answer.
The lift dinged. They’d arrived at the sixth floor. The doors slid open after a moment with a tired mechanical sigh, and Pomni stepped out immediately, fishing through her keys to find her front door one.
The hallway was narrow, dimly lit by overhead strips that hummed faintly. Someone down the hall had music playing—low bass bleeding through the walls, muffled and distant.
Pomni reached her door, unlocked it in one smooth motion, and pushed inside. Warmth and familiar, slightly stale air greeted her. The faint scent of old paint and something floral from a cheap diffuser she kept in the hallway. Home.
“Jester?” she called, shrugging off her jacket.
There was a beat of quiet before a chirp answered her. Light, bright, unmistakably pleased. A flash of mottled orange, black, and white darted into view as her calico trotted across the small space, tail high, voice already going as she announced herself.
“There you are,” Pomni murmured, crouching just in time to catch her as she bumped insistently into her hands. Jester chirped again, louder, pushing her head under Pomni’s palm, demanding attention. Pomni obliged instantly, scratching behind her ears, along her chin. “Missed you too, drama queen.”
A second later, Jester froze. Her head snapped up, her eyes locked past Pomni. They narrowed and Pomni didn’t even need to turn.
“Don’t,” she said flatly, still petting the cat. “She already doesn’t like you.”
“Wow,” Jax said from the doorway. “Rude. I haven’t even done anything.”
Jester’s tail flicked sharply. She stepped forward, slow and deliberately placing herself between Pomni and Jax like a very small, very fluffy guard.
Pomni huffed a quiet laugh under her breath.
“See?” she said. “Protective.”
“I can win her over,” Jax assured.
“You can try.”
He crouched slightly, extending a hand slowly and not too close. “Hey, Jester,” he murmured. “We’re friends, remember?”
Jester stared at him, entirely unimpressed. Then, slowly, she leaned forward just enough to sniff his fingers. She paused, considered, and promptly turned her back on him.
Pomni snorted.
“Oh, come on,” Jax complained, “That’s just cold.”
“She has standards,” Pomni teased without missing a beat, already moving past them toward the kitchenette. It was small and compact, and everything was within reach if you knew where to look. The cabinets didn’t quite match, the paint on one wall a shade off from the rest where she’d tried to fix a patch herself. It wasn’t much. But it was hers.
She clicked the kettle open, and she held it under the tap, the quiet rush of water filling the space. She set it on the base, flicked it on, and leaned her hands against the counter for a second.
Behind her, she could hear Jax moving, slow and unhurried. The soft creak of her floorboards under his weight. Jester’s faint, judgmental chirp as she trailed him at a cautious distance.
“Careful,” Pomni called without turning. “She’ll go for the ankles.”
“I like a challenge.”
“Of course you do.”
The kettle began to hum, building toward a boil, and Pomni grabbed two mugs without thinking. She paused and looked at them with a quiet realisation.
“…You’re not staying,” she muttered.
“I’m already here.”
She didn’t argue. Honestly didn’t have the energy at this point.
The kettle clicked off with a sharp snap, and she poured the water, steam curling up. Tea bags. A splash of milk.
“Don’t touch anything,” she added, handing him a mug as she passed.
“No promises.”
“Jax.”
“I’m kidding,” he said, taking the mug, fingers brushing hers for just a second longer than necessary.
Pomni pulled her hand back like she’d touched something hot, which technically was true. She turned away before he could see how much his touch affected her, heading toward the bedroom. “I’m changing.”
“Take your time,” he called after her.
*
When she came back, Jax was already by the window. Not in the window seat, he never was—Jax had learnt that seat was off-limits early on. Instead, he leaned against the wall beside it, shoulder braced there, mug in hand, leaving the cushion completely open for her.
Pomni noticed, because of course she did—it was always the subtle things with Jax when he was being nice. She ignored that deliberately to instead cross the room and dropped into the window seat, tucking one leg beneath her, settling into the worn cushion. It dipped familiarly under her weight, the fabric soft from use. The glass at her back was cool, the city beyond it alive in layers of light and motion.
Jester hopped up a second later, circling once before settling in her lap, still casting suspicious looks toward Jax.
“Unbelievable,” Jax muttered, eyeing her with annoyance.
“She remembers,” Pomni said, scratching under Jester’s chin.
“She started it.”
“She finished it,” Pomni corrected.
Jax huffed a quiet laugh and took a slow sip of his tea.
Silence stretched for a moment—not empty, just… waiting.
Pomni stared out at the city, watching the glow of passing traffic below, the flicker of distant holo-ads shifting colour across glass towers. It grounded her, kept her anchored somewhere not here, not in the small space with him, with this conversation hovering just out of reach—
“You still haven’t answer me.”
There it was. Pomni sighed quietly, eyes still fixed outside. “…It’s not that simple,” she said finally.
“It can be.”
“No, it can’t,” she shot back, sharper now. “It’s not just quitting a job and—what—running off to play criminal full-time like that’s a normal career path.”
“It pays well.”
“That is not the point.”
“It’s a good point.”
She huffed, dragging a hand down her face. God, he was exhausting.
“You don’t get it,” she said, quieter now. “I have… a life here. Expectations. People who—” she cut herself off, jaw tightening. “It’s not something I can just walk away from without consequences.”
Jax didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was lower. “You wouldn’t be walking away.”
Pomni glanced at him.
“You’d just be… changing direction,” he went on. “With backup.”
She held his gaze. There it was again. That look—it was far from the first time she’d seen it. Something steady and certain. He normally only really wore it on jobs.
“You make it sound easy,” she defended.
“It doesn’t have to be hard.”
“It is hard.”
A pause. Then Jax let out a frustrated breath, though he didn’t raise his voice. “Is it harder than staying here, in this monotone routine that’s you just drifting by? You’re not happy, Pomni, you can lie to yourself all you want, but I can see it.”
Pomni went still. The question lingered uncomfortably heavy between them because… because she just didn’t have an immediate answer to retort with.
Jax was watching her again. She could feel him looking at her—steady, patient in a way that didn’t match the rest of him or the persona he liked to play.
“You’re already halfway in,” he said eventually.
Pomni’s fingers stilled slightly in Jester’s fur.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
She turned her head then, frowning. “I’ve done a few jobs, Jax. That doesn’t make me part of anything.”
“You keep coming back.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I can leave,” she said, sharper now. “Because it’s not permanent. Because I can still—” she cut herself off, frustrated. “—walk away.”
Jax tilted his head slightly, studying her. “You really think that’s what’s stopping you?”
Pomni’s jaw tightened. “Don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
A beat. Then, “It’s your family,” he concluded. “That’s the factor that’s stopping you.”
Pomni looked away immediately. Jester shifted in her lap, sensing the change, pressing closer. “It’s complicated,” Pomni muttered.
“Yeah,” Jax intoned. “I’ve noticed.”
She shot him a look. “You don’t get to comment on that.”
“I do if it’s the reason you’re holding yourself back.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he cut in, not harsh, just… certain. “You said it yourself. You can’t just quit, can’t go off-grid, can’t do anything without them breathing down your neck.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you implied.”
Pomni’s grip tightened slightly in Jester’s fur. The cat chirped in mild protest, and Pomni forced her hand to relax, soothing over the spot.
“It’s not that simple,” she said, quieter now. “It hasn’t ever been that simple.”
Jax didn’t argue immediately. Didn’t dismiss it, didn’t dismiss her fears. Which somehow made it worse in Pomni’s opinion.
“They worry,” she added, like that explained it. “They’ve always worried.”
“And they won’t stop unless you put your foot down and mean it,” Jax said.
Pomni’s silence was answer enough.
“It’s not normal, Pomni.”
She huffed a short, humourless breath. “You don’t know what normal looks like for me.”
“I know what overbearing looks like.”
Her head snapped toward him, irritation flaring. “It’s not—”
“They’d stage an intervention because you quit a job you don’t like,” he said, cutting through it. “You hear how that sounds, right?”
Pomni opened her mouth. Closed it. Because—because she did. Of course she did.
“I know,” she said finally, quieter, the words dragged out of her. “I know. It’s… a lot, okay?”
Jax watched her, something unreadable in his expression now. “Then why let it keep deciding things for you?”
Pomni let out a breath, leaning her head back against the glass.
“Because it’s easier,” she admitted, barely above a murmur. “Because it’s what I’m used to. Because pushing back just—” she made a vague, frustrated gesture, “—makes everything worse with them, and I don’t…” She trailed off.
Jax was quiet for a moment. Then said softly, “You’re allowed to have boundaries.”
“I know that,” she said immediately, defensively, and sharper than she meant to. “I know, Jax.”
“Doesn’t sound like it, Pomski.”
“It’s not about knowing,” she snapped. “It’s about—actually doing it.” Her voice faltered slightly on the last word. Pomni pressed her lips together, looking away again.
“I’ve tried,” she added after a second, more subdued. “It’s not like I haven’t. It just… doesn’t stick with them.”
Jax didn’t interrupt this time, he just listened.
“And this—” she gestured vaguely between them, at him, at the idea of everything he was offering, “—this isn’t small. It’s not just setting a boundary, it’s—blowing everything up and hoping it lands right.”
“It wouldn’t be blind,” Jax said. “You’d have support.”
Pomni laughed softly under her breath. “From a crime family.”
“From people who know what they’re doing,” he corrected.
“That’s not comforting.”
“It should be.”
She shook her head, exasperated, but there was less bite to it now. “You make it sound like it’s nothing.”
“I make it sound doable.”
“It’s not just the family thing,” she said. “It’s—everything. This is a lot you’re asking of me, Jax.”
He didn’t deny it. “Yeah,” he agreed simply.
That caught her off guard. Pomni blinked, glancing at him again.
“It is,” he went on. “It’s a big shift. It’s not something you just fall into by accident.”
Her brow furrowed slightly. “Then why push it so hard?”
Jax shrugged. “Because you’re already closer to it than you think or like to acknowledge.”
Pomni frowned.
“I’ve seen you on jobs,” he continued. “You’re not just tagging along. You adapt. You think fast. You don’t freeze up.”
“That doesn’t mean I should do it full-time.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it means you can.”
Pomni looked down at her hands, at the way her fingers traced absent patterns in Jester’s fur. “…I’ll think about it,” she said finally, the words quiet, reluctant. Like pulling teeth. “I’m just—” she exhaled slowly, searching for the words. “I’m not ready to say yes yet.”
That felt more honest. More accurate to what she felt.
Jax’s mouth curved—slow, satisfied, but not smug, not this time. “That’s all I’m asking,” he said.
Pomni glanced at him, a little surprised at how easily he accepted that. “Okay?” she repeated.
“Okay,” he echoed. “You think about it. Properly.”
She studied him for a second. Suspicious. “You’re not gonna keep pushing?”
“Oh, I am,” he said lightly, a grin threatening to make an appearance. “Just… not tonight.”
Pomni huffed, something tired but fond slipping into it despite herself. “Good,” she muttered.
Silence settled again. Softer this time. Pomni let her eyes drift shut for a second, head resting back against the glass, Jester warm and steady in her lap.
“…You’re still not staying over,” she murmured, eyes still closed.
A quiet beat. Then—
“We’ll see.”
Pomni cracked one eye open, glaring.
Jax just smiled.
*
At some point, the city began to blur.
The lights beyond the window smeared into soft streaks, colours bleeding together as Pomni’s focus slipped. The low hum of traffic became distant, the occasional flicker of passing headlights no longer something she tracked.
The window seat wasn’t the most ideal place to sleep but not impossible.
Jester especially felt heavier than usual where she’d settled across Pomni’s lap, purring in slow, steady waves that vibrated through her.
And Jax—
Jax was still there.
She knew that in the way you know something without looking. In the quiet shift of the air. In the faint sound of his breathing somewhere to her side. In the awareness that refused to fully fade, even as sleep pulled at her.
Pomni meant to say something. Tell him to leave. Or move. Or—something.
Her mind unravelled mid-thought, slipping loose and quiet as her head tipped sideways, resting against the window frame.
Sleep took her without ceremony.
*
She stirred once. Not fully—just enough for the world to creep back in at the edges. A distant, murky siren. The soft patter of droplets on the window. Jester’s weight shifted.
A quiet murmur, something low and familiar. “…c’mon, troublemaker. Give me a second, yeah?”
Jester chirped in protest but her weight left, along with her warmth.
Then, Pomni felt the movement before she understood it—the careful slide of arms beneath her, one at her back, one under her knees. Something warm and steady. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t have the energy to.
There was a brief moment of weightlessness as she was lifted, her body instinctively curling in just slightly before settling again. Her head rolled and came to rest against something solid. A… shoulder. Fabric beneath her cheek, warm from body heat. There was a steady rise and fall of breath under it.
Jax.
The thought drifted through her mind, syrup-slow and distant, as if it belonged to someone else. She should say something. Should probably protest on principle. Should—
Her fingers twitched weakly against his shirt instead, barely catching the fabric. Jax stilled for half a second. Then shifted his hold carefully, adjusting her just enough that she settled more comfortably against him.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice softer than she thinks she’s ever heard it before. Pomni made a quiet, indistinct sound.
The short walk passed in a blur of sensation—movement, warmth, the faint creak of floorboards under his steps. Then softness. Her back met mattress, the familiar give of it grounding in a way nothing else quite managed.
Jax didn’t drop her. Didn’t rush to set her down. He lowered her carefully, one hand still braced at her back, until she was fully settled. Her head sank into the pillow, a deep, contented breath escaping.
Cool air brushed her arms for a second, then the covers were pulled up, tucked around her with an ease that suggested he’d done something like this before. And through the haze, she thought he had done it before.
Jester landed on the bed a moment later with a soft thump, circling once before settling near Pomni’s side.
Pomni shifted faintly, turning just slightly toward the warmth beside her.
There was a pause. A quiet stretch of stillness. Then—
“…you’re gonna be the death of me,” Jax murmured.
The words were soft. Amused. Something else threaded through them—something Pomni was too far gone to name.
She felt it more than heard it—the slight dip of the mattress as he leaned in. A brief, gentle press against her temple. Warmth that was gone just as quickly as it arrived.
Pomni exhaled softly, sinking deeper into the pillow. Sleep pulled her under again, heavier this time. Complete.
Somewhere distant, there was the sound of movement—quiet footsteps, the faint creak of the floor, the soft click of a door.
Jester shifted once, then settled again, purring low.
Pomni let herself be swallowed up.