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Jax couldn't breathe.
Or, at least it didn't feel like he could. He curled further in on himself, the shitty old floorboards of the west wing creaking beneath him as he gasped for air, clutching at his chest as if that was going to help fill his lungs any faster.
His heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. It felt like everything in his body was working far too fast, yet also not working at all. It just made everything feel even worse than it already did. Shit- this was one of those- one of those things, uh- where you're really freaked out and you cant- Fuck, Jax couldn't think straight. What did- what had the nurse version of Caine said to do? When someone was- panicking? Yeah, that's the word… Panicking...
There- There was a breathing thing, but Jax didn't quite understand all that Caine had said about that, and he wasn't really sure he could remember all the specifics- However, he couldn't remember what the other thing was either, so the stupid complicated breathing thing he didn't get would have to do. The last thing Jax needed was to feel stupid right now, but he didn't exactly have much of a choice. And anyway, it was probably stupider that he was panicking like this at all.
He couldn't recall everything Nurse Caine had said (the man always made everything sound so overly complicated), but Jax was relatively sure he just had to breathe in, hold it, and then breathe out, all for uh- Fuck, how many seconds was it? Three? Five? No, four- Four sounded about right. He started to inhale, but something must've caught in his throat when he did so and-
As he started to devolve into a coughing fit, he realised that this probably wasn't the best place to have an absolute meltdown. However, he wasn't really considering the dust when he dashed in. It was just the first place he found that he knew would be empty, and he figured no one would try to hunt him down here.
God he hoped they wouldn't. He didn't even know if anyone was actually coming after him but- Gangle had to have told somebody, right? He'd broken her trust. Everyone's trust, really. Zooble- Zooble had vouched for him, said he wouldn't do the same shitty things that Pajamas did to her, and what did Jax do? He- He pushed her. Hard. He hadn't even waited around long enough to see her get up. God, could she tell anyone? Had- Had he knocked her out? Had he- No, no, they couldn't die here, he- he was pretty sure that rule carried over from the circus. God he hoped it carried over. If Jax had hurt her that badly? He- He didn’t know if he could have another horrible tragedy that he caused on his conscience. Even if he would never be sure of the result of his first horrible act, this time it wasn't something he could run from. Unless he just- hid until the Caines finally figured out why they couldn't get home…. Yeah- yeah, maybe he could just hide out here! They couldn't punish him if he hid. He wouldn't have to see Gangle's hurt face if he hid.
What a fucking coward.
He doubted she would even want to get within 50ft of him now, anyway. Jax had ruined everything just because he freaked out a little. Gangle's arms were nothing but thin ribbons, yet they felt as if they were constricting him to the point where he couldn't get out of her grasp no matter how hard he tried. It felt exactly like-
Fuck. He was just making excuses at this point. She hadn't even done anything wrong. He's just- stupid, that's what he was. He did a stupid thing, a horrible thing, and now Gangle was suffering for it. She just wanted to hug him. She just wanted to-
He felt tears soak into his fur, and it took all but two seconds for him to start aggressively rubbing at his eyes. He- he doesn't get to cry right now. He wasn't even the one who was hurt. What kind of man cries at something like this? What kind of man runs away and takes who knows how long to even figure out how to breathe again?
Hell, it's only just dawned on him that he doesn't even need to breathe.
Idiot.
Now that he was less… like that, Jax suddenly felt all too aware of the substance coating his nails. Fuck, yeah. That was what started this, wasn't it? Gangle had- Gangle had asked to paint his nails. He said yeah, even though he didn't want it to happen at all. He just- didn't want her to think he was like- a dick or something. Why he even thought Gangle would think that if he said no, Jax had no idea. His brain felt as fuzzy as his arms right now.
He'd been stressed as fuck the entire time she was doing it, eyes hyperfocused on his hands and the sensation of the nail polish being applied. It was cold, and weird, and uncomfortable, and Jax hated having to keep still whilst she did it. He wasn't even sure if he kept still. He might've been shaking. He tried his best to keep still. He'd never been very good at it, especially when all he wanted to do was run. But he'd said she could do it, so he had to let her. He- he was a man of his word. Or, at least he was trying to be.
He took note of the patterns she'd put on top of the different colours. They were simple. Unassuming, if they were to be on anyone else. Just regular old, cute nails. Ones that anyone who wasn't as nice as Gangle would laugh him out of the room for.
He felt like the daisy on his ring finger was staring at him. He glared back.
He tried to tolerate them for just a bit longer. Gangle had worked so hard on them, after all. Suffered because of them. Because of him. He couldn’t ruin her hard work, not after what he did. But he just couldn't rip his eyes off of them.
And when all he could think about was what she would think of them, Jax knew he couldn't stand to see them any longer.
As he began to scratch away the first one, he thought about how his mother would laugh. Her laugh was still stuck deep within his mind, no matter how hard he tried to forget it.
He began to scratch faster, harsher, as he imagined how she would insult them. Mention how real men didn't do things like this. And especially not to this level. How could he be so cowardly to let someone degrade him like this? He couldn't stand up to a girl and defend his own manlyhood? Pathetic, really. She didn't raise him like this.
He began to scratch as hard as he physically could as he imagined how she would bring up his father. How disappointed he would be in him, if the man were still around to see what a fucking pussy his son had become. His dad threw around that word a lot when he was a kid. It was mostly when he would catch him doing stupid stuff like trying on his mom's make up, or her new sparkly stilettos that he ended up breaking the heel of, along with his ankle. But he especially liked to use it when he threatened Jax with military school. He- He wanted Jax to toughen up, or whatever. The man never followed through, but the threat always haunted Jax through everything he did. He didn't know why. It wasn't as if there was anything he would be leaving behind.
Other than his mother. She was probably why his dad never followed through. She would never allow that to happen. It almost made Jax laugh, how he was only realising that now, after all this time. God did he feel stupid. But, that wasn't exactly a new feeling.
He suddenly felt a strong, stinging sensation in his hands, bringing him back to reality after who knows how long. Fuck. His hands-
They were bleeding, and kinda bad. Really bad, actually. He didn't know how it took him this long to notice. He- he must've been pretty out of it.
It wasn't even real blood, but it didn't make him feel any less sick, especially with the scent of raspberry jam filling the air. It took everything in him to not throw up there and then at just- everything. But it would be pretty fucking hard to hide that someone from their group had been in the west wing if there was oil-spill like sludge coating the floor, and Jax didnt really want anyone to know about his little freak out. Nor did he want someone else to get blamed when it was his fault. He'd feel even worse then. Except if it was Rags. Rags was a dick. He was still mad about the other day when-
Right, why didn't he think of that sooner? Injuries don't matter in these stupid cartoon bodies. Jax began to shake his hands around as hard as he could, but… nothing happened. Fuck. Fuck!
Jax felt himself begin to cry again, and this time he couldn't even wipe away his stupid tears. He didn't want to get them in his stupid wounds. They were already hurting like hell. Did- did Rags lie to him about that too? Caine had ended up being the one to fix up Pomni's outfit after he found them talking in that one weirdly lit dark room the two of them enjoyed, so he never saw it in action. Maybe Pomni had forgotten about it because she hadn't had to use it for so long. It was either that or… Did it just not work in the hospital? That would've been real nice to know before he did that.
He felt the jam begin to drip down his fingers and onto the floor. God did he hate the feeling. He was sticky, and everything smelled way too sweet, and the texture, god the texture. He almost would've preferred real blood. Almost. If it smelled like iron he definitely would've been sick by now.
God, what was he supposed to do? He was certain he couldn't like, bleed out or anything, but it was freaking him the hell out and he wanted it to stop now. But he really didn't want to see anyone like this, and that seemed like the only way he could fix this mess he made. Jax briefly considered checking around the west wing to see if any medical supplies remained, but he didn't know how he would open doors with his fingers like this, let alone use the damn supplies themselves.
Fuck. He was just gonna have to tough it out, huh? That seemed like the only way out of this. He almost wanted to laugh. His father definitely would. How ironic. Some stupid nail polish was actually forcing him to act like a real man. It didn't feel too different from when he broke his ankle, in all honesty. His dad drove him, and yelled every time he even sniffled at the pain. And then he made Jax do the embarrassing job of telling the nurse how the break had happened in the first place.
God. He'd forgotten about the nurse. She… she'd been so kind about it. Joked that her little brother had almost done the same. That Jax had reminded her of him. Said it was okay to be curious like that. That he shouldn't stop being curious just because he got hurt this time. Although, he should definitely be more careful next time he tried out stilettos. That had gotten him to laugh. He was glad his father wasn't in the room with them. Jax probably would've been dragged to a whole different hospital. Or just taken home altogether.
Fuck. That nurse would probably be so disappointed in him now, huh? He… maybe he'd said yes to the nail polish because he was curious. Maybe him being scared that Gangle would be mad was just his own dumb excuse to make himself feel better about wanting to see what it was like. And here he was, hurt all over again, because he couldn't handle it. Although this time, there was nothing he could blame but himself.
As Jax stared at the door out of the west wing, he braced himself for the pain his stupid mistakes would bring him when trying to open it. He could do this. He was a man. A real man. Who wouldn't cry, or scream, or let anyone know he was ever here. That he ever did this. That he was ever this weak.
He had to do this. Otherwise he would never live it down. And he couldn't think of anything more painful than that.