Chapter Text
It took everyone a while to get used to the new life in the circus ever since the drastic changes, not that it was necessarily a bad thing. In fact, everything had finally started to look up.
The place began to turn into less of a chaotic display of Caine’s fed memory and more as a harmonized painting of everyone’s imagination. Their new creative freedom led to the circus feeling more like home for their digital minds. Zooble had opened up a bar of their own, Gangle had created a proper studio room to work on her comics, Kinger had designed an entire island dedicated to insects, Ragatha had worked on a stable filled with majestic horses, and Pomni…well. Pomni hasn’t created anything major for herself yet. Caine had given some ideas, like an island filled with infinite abandoned buildings to explore to give her that old thrill, but she always replied with a smile and a maybe later. In fact, she seemed more content just hanging out with the rest of her friends. It wasn’t odd for her character, so no one seemed to question it. Except for one. Kinger.
Kinger had never really taken off the bucket from the café (unless he and the others had made plans, then he would sometimes wear a fitting hat for the occasion), so he remained mostly sane. It was refreshing for the others to have actual sensible conversations with him. He was great company, and surprisingly good at the circus’s newly formed weekly game nights. He somehow beat almost every game, even the ones that were purely luck based! But through the group’s whining and the swell of childish pride in his chest at each win, his mind always lingered to Pomni. She seemed…off. She was much happier, yes, but at the same time something lied underneath her eyes. He couldn’t quite land his finger on it, for the problem was more difficult to find than any computer bug he had ever faced.
One night as he paced around in his newly made pillow fort, fiddling his gloved hands with a concentrated stare, he realized something. He had yet to see her alone. At every moment of the day, she seemed to be hanging out with someone, whether it be at Zooble’s bar or riding horses with Ragatha. Even at the depths of night, she would hang out with anyone who was awake until they finally had the heart to tell her that they were about to pass out. The only times he ever saw her alone was when she would walk past his fort after she would visit…ah. Kinger stopped in his tracks, a wave of melancholy sinking his heart. Right. Jax. He was still gone.
It was a truth that everyone had accepted, yet it still hummed in the back of their minds. The giant tent was like a glowing headstone, a cruel reminder of the person they couldn’t save. Jax still sat in there, alone in the darkness. Caine had offered to move him with the rest of the abstractions in the aquarium, but everyone had quietly agreed to keep him in the tent. He seemed at peace. That was all they wanted.
Kinger slipped the bucket back onto his head, taking a step out of his pillow fort. The circus was quiet, the lights being dimmed to give the illusion of nighttime. The hoisted up blankets of the handmade tent remained, towering high. Kinger began to walk slowly towards it, his eyes fixated on the dark opening. He didn’t go inside, but instead just stood at the entrance. He could hear the slightest hum of glitching coming from inside. It was not the harsh screeching noises like with Kaufmo’s abstraction, but more like a soft static. It almost sounded like breathing. A tiny glow of neon light coated the walls, coming from Jax’s closed neon eyes. Kinger couldn’t recall the last time he saw them open.
He let out a sigh and folded his hands, taking in everything. It took him back to Queenie’s abstraction. The way that the darkness of his pillow fort calmed down her ragged glitching to that same calm breath. The look she had given him before Caine found her. It tore him to his core. He gave his hands a squeeze, staring down. Those lonely weeks of pacing around the empty circus, trying to figure out a way to bring her back. To change her code. To do anything. He had felt it was all his fault. If only he had tried harder, gave her more comfort, loved her more. Maybe she would still be here.
Kinger’s eyes widened just a little as he looked up back at Jax. Pomni must be experiencing something similar. Grief isn’t something that goes away easily. You could be living the best life out of everyone in the world, but grief could tear it apart in a single day. Kinger turned from the tent, giving Jax one last sentimental stare before he returned to his pillow fort. He sat his bucket down next to him as he laid down, the plushness of the pillows acting as a comfortable mattress. He looked at his reflection in the metal of the bucket. He didn’t want to pry in too much about this matter. Pomni was clever. If things became too difficult, she would reach out to someone. But it still rubbed Kinger wrong. He knew he’d have to say something eventually.