Chapter Text
The colors in front were too bright. A floating kaleidoscope of pinks, deep purples, and oceanic blues. Jax drifted through it, utterly naked, utterly weightless. The faces of his dead friends in front of him. And for once, he felt at peace.
"GOOD MORNING, MY LOVELY LITTLE MEATBAGS!"
Caine's voice detonated inside his skull like a flashbang.
Jax jolted upright in his bed, a ragged gasp tearing out of his throat. His hands flew to his mattress, gripping the scratchy poly-cotton blend as if he were falling. For a split second, a millisecond, his eyes snapped open wide. In the pitch-black of his room, the irises swirled with that sick, beautiful, technicolor oil-slick of an Abstraction. But the moment was gone before his conscious brain could even register it. The colors bled out, settling back into their usual yellow and black, leaving behind a throbbing ache right behind his optic nerves.
He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning. His head was pounding.
"Ugh... five more minutes..." he muttered into the dark.
"—TACO TUESDAY!" Caine continued, utterly oblivious, flying through the corridor announcing the new adventure. "Everyone to the stage! We're doing a nacho-average adventure today! Get it?"
Jax tuned him out, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. And immediately recognized something was wrong.
In the absolute darkness of his room, he could see. Not perfectly, there were some tiny, frantic dots of monochrome static swarmed in his peripheral vision, and the edges grayed out like looking through a cardboard tube. But the center was crystal clear. He could see the individual polygon seams on the wall full of photographs. He could count the threads on his own bedsheet.
Okay. Weird. But manageable. He thought, Probably just... adjusting. Yeah. Eyes adjusting from that dream.
He stood up, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He put a hand out, bracing himself against the wall. His center-focus locked onto the door handle perfectly. Muscle memory did the rest. To his fortune, his room was pretty empty apart from the furniture, so there was no risk of him tripping over anything. His foot almost stepped over one spare key he had left on the ground but missed it by an inch.
Empty reassurance filled his brain: 'This is fine' and 'I just slept wrong.'
He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, stepping into the hallway.
The light was dim, a normal, ambient white type of light. The kind of lighting he'd walked through a million times without a second thought.
But the second the light hit his corneas, the world exploded.
The clear center-focus evaporated. The static that had been a quiet blizzard in the corners exploded into a raging snowstorm covering his entire field of vision. It was like someone had pressed a million tiny flashlights directly against his eyes. The vision was agonizing, a constant, pulsing white-hot pressure that made his temples throb in time with his heartbeat.
"GAH–" He flinched backward, bumping his shoulder hard against the doorframe. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the light bled through his eyelids, still painting that awful, blurry red static behind his lids. The flashlights at the corners of his eyes didn't go away. He held up his hand. He could count his fingerprints. But when he dropped it, when he tried to look past it, when he tried to see anything else, the world dissolved. Everything beyond his own fingers was a blur.
The far end of the hallway wasn't a hallway anymore. It was a sickly, overexposed blur of colors bleeding into the floorboards. The floor was just a grainy, out-of-focus mess of fibers. He couldn't see his own toes.
Okay. Okay, okay, okay. It's fine. It's just... it's just adjusting. I just woke up. My eyes are adjusting from that weird dream. Give it a minute.
He waited for ten seconds, then twenty. A full minute passed and nothing changed.
His heart started hammering against his ribs. His breathing grew shallow, ragged. He pressed his palm flat against the wall, leaning his weight into it. His other hand reached out blindly, fingers spread, searching.
Thirteen steps to the corner. Left at the painting. Twenty-two steps to the main tent.
He could do this. He'd walked this route a thousand times. He didn't need to see. He just needed to count.
He took a shaky step forward. Then another. His free hand stretched out in front of him like a blind man's cane, fingers splayed, searching for obstacles. It was humiliating and terrifying at the same time. But if he could just get there, if he could just sit down and pretend everything was fine for five minutes, the blur would clear up. It had to.
"Twelve..." he muttered under his breath. "Thirteen. Corner."
He turned left, his hand never leaving the wall. He could vaguely make out the plant pot just a smear of red and green blobs. He was on the right track. He would've gotten further if he hadn't miscalculated when rounding the corner; he hit his side hard against it. His head had bumped on the corner too, making him squeeze his eyes shut as the pain flared up. He tried to blindly search for the wall again but couldn't find it. As he tried his best to bury the panic that consumed him, he opened his eyes, disorienting him further. The walls bled into each other; he couldn't tell if it was in front of him a foot away or if it wasn't even part of the hall. He didn't hear the footsteps approaching.
"What the f[Boink!]k are you doing?" Zooble watched the purple rabbit in the hall. He was half-crouching but not quite, with his hands extended in front of him. Jax did a lot of weird s[Boink!] Sure, but it looked like he didn't know where he was standing. They were in their room after deciding that, as most days, the adventure could go on without them. Then they heard a loud thump and had gotten out to see what it was, and now were sure that something was him.
His head darted around as if surprised by their presence. His eyes were wide and unfocused, darting around like they were searching for something they couldn't find.
The only thing he could distinguish was a bright magenta blob, and an ocean of colors around it. But he knew that voice. Of all the people to catch him like this, it had to be them.
"Morning Zoobs!" he called out, forcing his voice into that familiar sing-song drawl. "Just... stretching."
They looked at him up and down. His eyes were still doing that frantic darting thing. "Are you drunk?"
"No?"
"High?"
"What— no!"
"Concussed?"
"Zooble, I am fine." Jax straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his overalls with an exaggerated flourish. His eyes fixed on a point approximately two feet to Zooble's left. "I am perfectly, one hundred percent, absolutely—"
He reached out to lean against the wall, aiming for the solid surface he knew should be there. But he'd misjudged the distance. His hand found nothing but empty air. His weight shifted forward, expecting resistance that never came.
"—fine," he finished weakly from the ground.
What the hell is wrong with him? They thought, looking at him.
"Right. That's why you're on the floor." They crouched down in front of him. "Should I get Caine? Or…"
The idea of having Caine just snap his fingers and fix him hadn't passed his mind until now. That was brilliant. But the implication of everyone seeing something was wrong and making a whole deal about it didn't resonate with him at all.
"No," Jax said quickly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "No, don't—don't get Caine. I'm fine. I just—I just tripped."
"You tripped."
"Yes."
"Over what?"
"The... floor?"
Zooble didn't respond. They just kept staring at him with that unreadable expression. His eyes were squinting hard now, worse than a mole in a cave.
"Jax, what's wrong with your eyes?" They asked.
The words hit him like a physical blow. His stomach dropped.
"Nothing!" The word came out too fast, too sharp. "There's nothing wrong with my eyes. They're fine. I'm fine. Everything is—"
He scrambled to his feet, his hands reaching out blindly for the wall. He found it this time, pressing his palm flat against the surface. He leaned his weight into it, trying to look casual, trying to look like he hadn't just been lying on the floor like a complete idiot.
"Everything is fine," he repeated. "I just woke up. I'm still—still adjusting. That's all."
"Okay." They stood up slowly. "Alright. Just wait here. Don't move. Don't hurt yourself or anything."
Jax's ears perked up. His head swiveled toward their voice, panic flickering across his face before he could hide it. "Wait—you're going to leave me here?"
Zooble paused. They turned back to look at him. "Yeah. I'm going to get someone."
"No—" Jax's hand shot out from the wall, reaching blindly toward their voice. "No, don't—you can't just—" He stopped himself.
Zooble watched him struggle. Watched the panic rise and fall behind his squinting eyes. Watched him try to force it down.
"Can't just what?" they asked, their voice deceptively casual.
Say something, he told himself. Say anything.
But the words wouldn't come. The hallway was still a blurry, staticky nightmare. The light was still pressing against his eyes like a thousand tiny needles. And Zooble was standing somewhere in front of him, somewhere he couldn't see because everything was just blobs of colors and light, and they were about to leave him there for who knows how long.
"I can't—" The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "I can't—I can't see, okay? I can't see anything. The light is—it's too bright. Everything is blurry. I can't make out your face. I can't see the wall. It's like someone pressed flashlights against my eyes and turned the saturation up to a hundred, and everything is bleeding together and I can't—I can't—"
His breathing was coming faster now, too fast, his chest heaving. The words kept spilling out, faster and faster, like a dam had broken.
"I woke up and I could see in the dark. But then I opened the door and the light hit my eyes and everything exploded, and I can't see anything past my own hand, and the colors are all bleeding together, and the tiny dots won't go away, and it's like someone slammed a hammer into the back of my skull and I can't—I can't—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Zooble stepped closer, their hands up. "Jax. Breathe."
"I am breathing—"
"You're hyperventilating. Breathe."
He tried too, ending in a ragged gasp. Jax squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to drown the colors. They watched for a moment.
"Change of plans," they said after a silence. "You're coming with me. You need Caine to see what's wrong."
"Fine," he muttered. "Fine. Just... just help me get there."
Zooble studied him for a moment. Then they stepped closer, positioning themselves at his side.
"Okay. I'm going to guide you. You're going to put your hand on my shoulder and follow my voice. Got it?"
His hand reached out tentatively, searching. He felt Zooble's shoulder under his fingers, the strange texture of their plastic, and held his hand over it. His other hand was still reaching out, searching for something to hold onto.
Zooble watched him flounder for a moment, then sighed. "Here. Use your other hand to hold onto my arm. Keep your palm flat against it. That way you'll feel when I move."
They lifted Jax's free hand and pressed it against their forearm.
This is humiliating, he thought. I'm being led around like a child.
But he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Okay," Zooble said. "Ready?"
Jax only nodded.
They started moving slowly. Zooble's voice guided him forward, calling out obstacles before he could trip over them and telling him where stuff was when they went through a corner.
The main tent was buzzing with noise when they finally arrived.
Caine was hovering in the center of the stage, his hands clasped behind his back. Kinger, Ragatha, Pomni, and Gangle stood in a crescent moon formation in front of it.
"There you are!" Caine boomed, his voice echoing through the tent. "I was starting to think you'd—" He stopped, taking in the sight of Jax being led by the arm by Zooble. "Oh, dear. What happened here?"
He could feel the stares of the others on him, could hear their sharp intakes of breath. The light in the tent was somehow worse than the hallway, brighter, more intense. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he could feel it pressing against his eyelids.
"Is everything okay?" Pomni asked for everyone.
"Nothing happened," Jax said, forcing a grin onto his face. "I'm fine. It's just that—"
"He can't see," Zooble cut in. "Something's wrong with his eyes."
The tent went silent.
Jax could hear Ragatha's soft "Oh no." Gangle's worried murmur.
This is fine, he told himself. This is fine. I'm not having a breakdown in front of everyone. I'm not.
He hated not seeing any of their expressions or where anyone was.
Caine's eyebrows shot up. "Can't see? Nonsense! I built these eyes myself! They're state-of-the-art!" He floated closer, peering at Jax's face. "Open your eyes, my dear rabbit!"
Jax caught himself almost flinching at the sudden sound of Caine's voice. He did open his eyes and regretted it right then. The colors from the tent were even more bright and confusing, and everything mixed together even more, and the million lights just increased. To him, the others were an oversaturated colorful jumble of blobs that moved.
"Hmm... interesting. Don't fret, Jax! I will fix this in a jiffy!" Caine's voice was so cheerful that it annoyed him. Caine brought his hand in front of Jax's face and snapped his fingers in one rapid motion. "There it is! You're welcome."
Everyone looked expectantly at Jax, but his lost gaze didn't focus. And to him, nothing changed. "Was something supposed to happen? Everything's still the same." He said, trying not to let out the disappointment in his voice.
"Huh?" Caine asked, looking at his hand and snapping a few times. The sudden confusion from the ringmaster only unsettled everyone else. Caine blinked. He snapped his fingers again. Still nothing. "That's odd," he said, his voice taking on a slightly strained quality. "Let me try again."
He snapped his fingers a third time. A fourth. A fifth. Each time, the sound echoed through the tent, but Jax's eyes remained unchanged, wild and unfocused.
"Interesting," Caine murmured. "Very interesting. The pupils aren't responding properly."
"What?" Ragatha's voice was anxious. "What's wrong with them?"
"I'm not sure yet." Caine leaned closer, his face filling Jax's blurry field of vision. "Hold still."
Jax felt Caine's hands press against either side of his head, the ringmaster's palms flat against his temples. The pressure aggravated his throbbing headache, sending a spike of pain through his skull.
"Don't—" Jax tried to pull back, but Caine held him fast. "Don't touch me—"
"Shhh, shhh, shhh," Caine cooed. "Just let me take a look. This might sting a little!"
Jax felt something cold wrap around his skull, like fingers made of ice. He gasped, his hands flying up to grab at the invisible pressure. "What are you—"
"I'm just accessing your code! It's perfectly safe! Mostly!" Something inside Jax's head seemed to pulse. "Although I should warn you, there might be some—"
"GRAGH—!"
Jax's vision went white. Not the blurry, staticky white of the hallway, but something sharper, more painful. It felt like his skull was being cracked open and his brain was being spooned out.
"—side effects!" Caine finished brightly.
The pressure in his skull receded. Jax slumped forward, gasping, his hands still pressed against his temples. His vision was swimming, the lights moving like a snowstorm.
"Jax? Jax!" Ragatha's voice was distant, muffled. "Caine, what did you do to him?"
"I fixed him! I believe. Did it work?"
Jax blinked. His vision was still wrong.
"No," he whispered. "No, it didn't work."
Caine hummed thoughtfully. "Well, that's a problem. I can't seem to fix it with conventional methods. Maybe the avatar's code is disintegrating," Caine mused, his voice almost giddy with curiosity. Already moving near Jax's personal space again. Jax could see some red and white blocking his field of vision, already preparing to be held again. "Maybe his head is about to explode! Maybe there's an undetected virus! Or—"
"Alright, Caine." Zooble's voice cut through the rambling, sharp and impatient. "You have to fix him, not terrify him."
"I mean, it's not responding to treatment!" Caine said. "I've tried resetting, rebooting, and trying to rewrite his visual intake! Nothing's working!"
"So you can't fix him?" Pomni asked, looking to the side where Jax seemed to be blinking too much.
"I didn't say that! I said I can't fix him with conventional methods. There's always the unconventional ones!" Caine's voice was too bright, too cheerful. "For example, I could just delete his avatar and generate a new one!"
"NO."
The word came out of Jax's throat like a growl, sharp and desperate. His head snapped toward Caine's voice, his eyes wide and frantic.
"Absolutely not. No. You are not deleting me."
"It's just an option! There's also the option of sending him into the void to see if that shakes things loose! Or—"
"CAINE." Zooble's voice was a whip crack. "If you can't fix him, you can't fix him. But you are not deleting him or sending him into the void. Got it?"
Caine blinked, apparently startled out of his spiral. "Right. Yes. Of course. Fixing. Capiche." He thought for a moment. "So I should look at the bigger picture! But the adventure must go on!"
Everyone turned toward him. Jax could make out his blurry shape hovering above the stage.
"I'll need some time to analyze Jax's code and figure out what's wrong. In the meantime, the rest of you will proceed with today's activity!"
"But—" Pomni started.
"No buts! The show must go on!" Caine clapped his hands together.
"What about Jax?" Ragatha interrupted, her voice firm. "We can't just leave him like this."
"Jax will be fine," Caine said dismissively. "He'll stay here while I work on fixing him. Won't you, Jax?"
Jax opened his mouth to argue. But Caine went ahead.
"Excellent!" Caine clapped his hands again. "Now off you go! The adventure awaits!"
"But—" Pomni started again.
Caine snapped his fingers and they disappeared through the conjured portal. Caine also disappeared in the air.
Zooble had closed their eyes waiting to be shoved through, but out of the habit of leaving them there, he had forgotten to take them too.
They looked back at Jax who was standing there, head darting around, thinking everyone had left him alone.
"So, that leaves the two of us." They said.
Jax flinched at the sound, his head snapped toward the voice, his eyes flying open before he could stop himself. The colors rushed in again, a nauseating swirl of too-bright hues that made his stomach lurch.
"Zooble?" He squinted, trying to make out the shape. "I thought Caine—"
"Caine forgot about me. Probably." Zooble's voice was flat, unimpressed. "It happens. And not gonna lie, it's good that he did, since you're in no state to be left alone."
"Gee, couldn't you be more harsh? I'm not an invalid, I can see… just not right."
"No one said you were—" Zooble was about to say something they would regret later, so they just scoffed the annoyance back. "Whatever. What now?"
"What do you mean, what now? Caine said he was going to—"
"Caine said he needed time to analyze your code." They shifted their weight. "You can't just stand here the whole time. You said the darkness of your room was better, we can try that."
"I can do whatever I want," Jax said, his voice sharp. "I don't need your pity."
"It's not pity." They said even more sharply, stepping closer. "Come on. I'm taking you back to your room. And shut your mouth and stop saying stupid things before I regret it."
Jax's head snapped toward their voice, his ears perking up. "What? No. I don't need your help. Also, you're not coming into my room."
"Yeah, you do." Zooble grabbed his arm and placed it on their shoulder. "The light in here is killing your eyes. And my room has too much stuff laying around."
Jax opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat. The light was killing his eyes. Even with them squeezed shut, the brightness was too much.
"...Fine," he muttered, holding a hand in front of him and letting Zooble put it over their shoulder. "But only because I want to lie down."
"Sure." Zooble started walking, slow enough that Jax could keep up. "That's why."
They made their way through the tent, Zooble's voice guiding Jax past obstacles. The journey was slower than before. The irregularity of Zooble's walk due to their parts made him readjust from time to time.
"How's your head?" Zooble asked as they rounded a corner.
"Fine," Jax said automatically. Then, after a pause, "Better if you stopped being obnoxious."
"You keep wincing." They responded instead.
Jax didn't respond. His hand tightened on Zooble's shoulder as they turned another corner.
They stopped in front of Jax's door. Zooble reached out to open it, but Jax's free hand shot out, pressing against the wood before they could turn the knob.
"Your door's coming up," Zooble said after a while. "The handle's a little low. Watch your—"
Jax's hand found the handle before they could finish, his fingers closing around the familiar shape. The relief that flooded through him was almost overwhelming. Though Zooble's concern didn't go down.
"Thanks," he said again, his voice rough. "I've got it from here."
He expected them to leave, their responsibility discharged.
"So you're just going to go in there and... what? Are you sure you're better in the dark?"
Jax's grip on the handle tightened. "Yeah. A hundred percent. You can stop hovering."
"Fine. Call my name if something happens," they said, already turning away.
Jax sighed in relief hearing their footsteps going away. He opened the door and stepped inside. The change was instant. He could see as before, everything was snowy and it was like looking through a tube, but there were no flashlights tormenting his eyes, no oversaturation or blobs. And the center was unnervingly clear, and now that he thought of it, it should be darker but it wasn't.
He shook his head, walking mindlessly toward his bed, when he stepped over the same key he had avoided when he woke up. It being hidden on the sides where his vision didn't work, this time he was destabilized for the hundredth time that day and sent falling face forward. He fell over the tiny chairs and table, the sound echoing through.
He cursed under his breath. At Caine, at the person that made the circus, his own eyes, the freaking universe.
Zooble had made it exactly six steps down the hallway when they heard the crash.
It wasn't subtle. A sharp, splintering crack followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor, accompanied by a stream of curses that would've made a sailor blush.
They stopped mid-stride. Turned. Stared at Jax's closed door.
"You have got to be kidding me," they muttered.
For a moment, they considered walking away. Jax had made it very clear he didn't want their help. He'd practically shoved them out the door. If he'd managed to injure himself within thirty seconds of being left alone, that was his problem.
"Five seconds," they muttered, already walking back. "I gave him five seconds."
They pushed the door open without knocking, fully expecting to see Jax sprawled on the floor in some kind of dramatic, overblown pose designed to garner sympathy.
Instead, they found him crumpled on the ground among the wreckage of a tiny table and two equally tiny chairs. The room was only lit by the light coming from behind them. One of his hands was pressed against his forehead, and the other was gripping his knee like he was trying to hold himself together.
"What the—" Zooble stepped into the room, their eyes sweeping over the destruction. "You told me you could see in the dark."
"I can!"
"Then how did you trip over?"
He didn't answer. He just sat on the floor, the sudden intake of light from the corridor making him wince, and then he realized they were in his room. "Get out. And close the door."
Zooble didn't move. They stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from the hallway, their expression unreadable.
"The door," Jax repeated, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Close it. The light is—"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Zooble stepped fully into the room and pulled the door shut behind them.
The darkness descended like a blanket. For Jax, it was immediate relie, the pressure behind his eyes easing, settling back into that familiar hum at the edges of his vision.
He opened his eyes cautiously, blinking against the dark. There. He could see. Not perfectly, but better. He could make out Zooble's shape standing by the door, could see the vague outlines of his room around him.
"I told you to leave," he said, pushing himself up.
They didn't speak. He opened his eyes fully. He watched them as they slowly turned, taking in his room. Everything was too dark to make out the colors, but they could see the furniture was tiny, keys sprawled on the sides, many black squares on the wall above the bed, and the wall had the design of a pink cardboard of popcorn.
"Huh," they said. "Dude, you live in a dollhouse."
"It's not a dollhouse!" He shot out. "It's… a room."
They didn't really know what they were expecting of Jax's room considering his avatar was in fact a purple rabbit.
"I mean, there's nothing wrong with it. It's nice actually." That seemed to short-circuit something in him. He was preparing for the mockery, especially from them. "Okay, c'mon. You should sit down already. The bed is some steps in front of you. Move slightly to the side to not trip over the bedframe. Do you want me to guide you?"
"I can see in the dark," Jax said quietly, actually managing to distance, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked where Zooble was, his tunnel vision setting right where their face was and he could see by their expression that they weren't convinced. "I can. The center of my vision is clear. I can count the threads on my bedsheets and see every tiny detail in the center of my vision."
"But?"
"But I can't see the edges." He gestured vaguely at the room. "It's like I'm looking through a telescope."
They studied him for a long moment, then let out a breath and moved further into the room. Their foot nearly connected with the scattered remains of the tiny table.
"Your room is a death trap," they announced, carefully stepping around the debris. "You have keys on the floor everywhere."
"Amazing observation," he said sarcastically. "I'm fine now. You can go."
Zooble didn't move. Instead, they lowered themselves onto the floor, sitting cross-legged among the wreckage.
"What are you doing?" Jax asked.
"Sitting."
"I can see that. Why?"
"Because I want to." They leaned back on their hands, looking around the room. "Also, I'm pretty sure if I leave, you'll find a way to injure yourself again."
They sat in silence for a moment. Jax could feel their gaze on him, could feel them studying him with that same unreadable expression.
"Ugh," he said after a while, slumping on the bed. "My head's killing me."
"That's rough." They picked up one of the keys from the floor, turning it over in their hands. "What do you think caused it?"
Jax shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was that dream."
"What dream?"
"Before I woke up like this I was dreaming…" He didn't need to tell them exactly what it consisted of. He shouldn't. "It was a mix of bright moving nauseating colors everywhere. Like a rotating mandala."
"So you just dream with that? A wall of bright colors?"
"Yeah? Kinda. Why?"
"I've never heard someone just… I don't know, it seems like a weird dream. There's no plot."
"Your dreams have plot? Maybe you're the weird one, Zoobs."
They talked for a while after that. Zooble complained about the latest adventure they went on. Jax made sarcastic comments about the decor. They argued about whether the colors of his room were acceptable colors for a grown adult's room.
"You literally wear pink overalls," Zooble pointed out.
"That's different. They're salmon."
"Your overalls are pink."
"Salmon."
"Salmon is a shade of pink."
"It is not. It's a shade of red."
In that moment, Caine appeared in the room in the blink of an eye.
"HELLO, MY LOVELY LITTLE BURRITOS!"
Caine's voice exploded through the room like a cannonball. Jax flinched so hard he nearly fell off the bed, trying to point his vision to where he appeared.
"Caine!" Zooble's voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos. "You can't burst into people's rooms like that!"
"I found it!" Caine was bouncing around the room, his outline a blur of red and white in Jax's tunnel vision.
"Found what?" Jax's voice was strained. "Caine, what are you—"
"Oh, it's exciting! I know what's wrong with you!" Caine continued, completely ignoring them. "I've never seen something like it! But I need everyone here for the official announcement! Team meeting! In the rabbit's den!"
"Everyone?" Jax's ears flattened against his skull. "No. Caine. You're not bringing everyone here."
But Caine had already snapped his fingers.
The room was suddenly, impossibly crowded.
"—how does that make any sense?!" Pomni's voice cut through. She was wearing a ridiculous sombrero and holding a pair of maracas. "Oh wait. Where are we?"
Ragatha's voice was next. "What happened? Did we do something wrong?"
"It's dark in here!" Gangle's voice was high and panicked. "Why is it so dark?"
"Are we in a new adventure?" Kinger's voice was calm, almost dreamy. "I don't remember this room from the circus."
Jax squeezed his eyes shut, the sudden influx of noise and chaos sending spikes of pain through his skull. His hands pressed against his temples, trying to block it all out. And also trying to ignore the fact that Caine summoned the whole gang right into his dollhouse room.
"Can we just go outside!?" he started.
But Caine was already floating in the center of the room, his hands outstretched like a showman about to reveal a trick.
"Welcome! How was the adventure?" Caine's voice was booming, filling every corner of the room.
"A little stereotypical?" Pomni said, shaking the maraca.
"Fantastic!" Caine interrupted. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the adventure clothes vanished. Pomni's sombrero and maracas disappeared. Gangle's poncho vanished. Ragatha was suddenly back in her usual dress. "Right now I have bad news and good news!"
The rest of their eyes were already adjusting to the dark.
Jax could feel everyone's eyes on him. And he wanted the floor to open and make him disappear.
"Can we turn on the lights first?" Gangle's strained voice asked.
"Jax's vision is better in the dark," Zooble explained. "The light hurts him."
"Well, that's something, right?" Ragatha tried to cheer up.
Jax's tunnel vision was fixed on Caine's blurry form, but he could see the others at the edges of what he could see.
"Let's not get off track!" Caine said. "Which news should I deliver first?"
"Good news first," Zooble said.
"Excellent choice!" Caine clapped his hands together. "The good news is I already know what happened to Jax! He almost Abstracted!"
The words hung in the air like a bomb.
Jax's blood ran cold.
"Wait," he said slowly. "What did you just say?"
Jax felt the floor drop out from under him. His hands, still pressed against his temples, fell limp to his sides.
Abstracted. He'd almost abstracted. He'd been on the verge of disappearing into that swirling void of color and madness, and he hadn't even known it.
"Wh-what?" Gangle's voice cut through. "Jax almost Abstracted!?"
"Jax, are you okay?" Ragatha's hand flew to her mouth.
"Hey, son, are you alright?" Kinger asked, unnervingly calm for him.
"Jax." Pomni stepped forward. "Jax, what happened? What did you feel?"
"That's the good news?" Zooble's voice was sharp, cutting through the spiral of the group. "He almost abstracted, and that's good news?"
"Well, yes?" Caine said brightly. "Because as you see, he didn't fully Abstract! The process stopped halfway—he's kinda of a—" He gestured vaguely. "Hybrid now! His vision is now almost like an abstracted one's vision!"
Jax felt the room sway around him. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, trying to steady himself. His vision was swimming, or maybe that was just his head.
"A hybrid?" Kinger's voice was concerned. He started to think. "How is that possible? There must be something wrong with… no… but that could be—"
"And you didn't think to tell us?" Ragatha's voice was worried. "Jax, you should have—"
"I didn't know." The words came out flat, defensive. "I didn't even know I was abstracting. I just woke up like this."
"You didn't feel it?" Zooble's voice was quiet. "You didn't feel yourself... slipping?"
Jax shook his head. "I didn't feel anything. I just had a dream, and then—" He stopped. The dream. The floating colors. The faces of his dead friends. He'd felt at peace. He'd felt like he was letting go.
The room was silent. Everyone was looking at him.
"Okay," Zooble said finally. "Okay. That's—that's the good news. What's the bad news?"
Caine was quiet for a moment. That was unusual. Jax had never seen Caine quiet.
"Ah," Caine said, his voice losing some of its usual brightness. "Yes. The bad news."
Caine hovered in the center of the room. His face was hesitant.
"Well," he said slowly. "You see, abstraction is a permanent process. One I can't reverse or have any control over. And since Jax is an abstracted hybrid..."
"Careful," Zooble said. "Think carefully before you say anything."
"I'm thinking!" Caine said, but his voice was higher than usual. "The bad news is that I can't fix it. His vision will be like that forever."
Forever. He was going to be like this forever. Never seeing properly. Never able to look at something without that tunnel vision, that static at the edges. Forever trapped in a body that was half-abstracted, half-dead.
Forever.
Everyone's voices were muffled by his brain.
"Forever?" Pomni's voice was high and panicked. "What do you mean, forever?"
"Permanent?" Ragatha's voice was sharp. "Caine, you can't just—"
"There has to be something?" Gangle's voice came.
Kinger was still muttering something. "Maybe the data is still there, but it's coming in through a damaged channel, overwhelming the processor with a raw, unfiltered signal."
Pomni's expression brightened up suddenly when hearing Kinger. Remembering the old man's condition. But before she could say anything, Jax's voice exploded through the room.
"Great. We know what's wrong. Everyone leave. Now!" Jax was standing from the bed, his hands shaking at his sides.
"Jax–I think Kinger can help–" Pomni started, her voice bright with sudden realization. She looked at the old chess piece, then back at Jax. "He studied computer science before, he might be able to figure out—"
"I don't want to hear it." Jax's voice was sharp, cutting through her words like a blade. He was already on his feet, unsteady, his hands reaching out blindly to gesture toward the door. "Get out. All of you. Now."
"Jax, calm down," Zooble said, stepping forward. "You're going to do something stupid."
"Too late for that!" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'm a half-dead freak who can't see straight! What else could possibly go worse than that?"
"Jax—" Ragatha started, her voice soft and careful.
"No!" His voice cracked. "No. I don't want your pity. I don't want your help. I don't want any of you looking at me like that."
"Jax, please, we just want to help you not feel scared." Gangle's voice was small, trembling.
"I SAID GET OUT!"
The room went silent.
Jax stood there, breathing hard, his chest heaving. The center of his vision was locked on the door.
"Everyone out," he repeated, his voice quieter now. Hollow. "Just... leave me alone."
Zooble opened their mouth to argue, but Pomni put a hand on their arm.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Okay. We'll go."
"Pomni—" Ragatha started.
"It's okay." Pomni's voice was steady. "He needs space. We'll give him space."
She started moving toward the door, her hand still on Zooble's arm, guiding them along. The rest hesitated but followed.
When the door was opened, he looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. Then the room was plunged into absolute darkness.
Jax stood there for a long moment, his body still trembling, his breath still coming in short, ragged gasps.
He sank back onto the bed, his body suddenly heavy with exhaustion. His eyes fell shut, the darkness behind his eyelids a welcome reprieve.
"Well, that didn't go as planned," Caine's voice almost gave him a heart attack. "I'm sorry I can't fix it."
If it weren't for the fact he could only see the center of his vision and couldn't properly see Caine there, he would've swung a punch toward his direction.
"Out," was the only thing he said.
And then the red from the side of his eyes disappeared.
Forever.
The word echoed in his mind, hollow and endless.
He was going to be like this forever. Unable to see in the light without pain. Unable to see in the dark properly.
He would never know whose face was in front of him. Every place a labyrinth. Opening his eyes would bring an unbearable headache. The most vital part of his ability to navigate this stupid, multicolored world had been snatched away while he slept. He would never understand anything with his eyes again.
He was essentially blind.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the thought.