Vulnerability

by uhblazin

Summary:

After the events of 6, the gang goes on another wild adventure. Jax, struggling to keep everything together, is internally freaking out from the fight and regretting everything that led up to this point. Just kidding! He totally does NOT; what gave you that idea?

Meanwhile, Pomni struggles with handling the fight's aftermath (she's trying, and that's what counts).
The rest of the gang is confused by Jax's recent unusual behavior while also trying to complete the adventure unscathed.

Y'know, the usual.

*Heavily inspired by the Roblox games Flee the Facility and Violence District (basically a DBDL rip-off).

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

 

   "What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?"

 

   In that moment, he was glad he was facing away from her; Otherwise, she would have caught the sheer horror etched across his face, a raw, instinctive reaction he struggled to suppress. He could-would never see that happen to her, he just couldn't. The thought of her disappearing from his life was unbearable, the very idea sent a knot of dread coiling in his stomach. He didn't even want to think about it. It was then that he was struck with a horrifying realization: he was in way too deep. There's a reason why he doesn't have friends and paints himself as some sort of comic villain. It is a defensive mechanism he used against the pain of loss. In truth, he couldn't bear to see another person he cares about leave him stranded in this desolate digital hell. An impulse surged within him, fierce and angry; he needed to put an end to this now. He sucked in a deep, agonizing breath, trying to ease his inner turmoil.

 

   "I'd move on," he said flatly, his signature grin pulling at his lips, a mask of nonchalance that had become all too familiar. Despite this, he felt the sudden urge to run away and cry in a corner when his gaze locked onto Pomni's agonized expression. She stared at him, her wide, vibrant, pinwheel-colored eyes glistening with emotion. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and the once lively laughter they shared together felt like a distant memory.

 

   "And I'd probably forget about you." It felt like he pulled his own heart out and chucked it out the nearest window. He fixed her gaze on her, unblinking, as if any slight flutter of his eyes would unleash the flow of tears lingering beneath his eyes, exposing the lie that would reveal the fragile facade he had meticulously built around himself. This had to be done, he reminded himself bitterly. A wave of regret and doubt washed over him, but it's too late now. He can't do this, not again. The weight of his past that he was too terrified to revisit felt like it was pressing down on his lungs. He knew there was no turning back and that this was for the best. But why is there a tightness gripping his throat?

 

  "Okay.." she mumbled under her breath, the words barely escaping her trembling lips. He could practically see the thoughts bubbling up within her mind, torn between clinging on or letting go, the harsh reality of his words washing over her.

 

  "Okay," she repeated, her voice wavering as she turned around shakily, every movement laced with uncertainty. The weight of the revolver felt heavy in her grip, and with a shaky hand, she deliberately aimed it toward herself, the metal of the gun gleaming in the bright fluorescent lights of the circus.

 

   Jax stood there, motionless. A wave of confusion crashed over him. His brow furrowed deeply, a slight frown taking over his features. The blatant concern etched across his features contradicted everything he just told her. He had an instinctual urge to reach out and stop her; a cold grip of fear tightened around his heart. He shook his head before letting out a light-hearted scoff, an easy-going grin overtook his features once more.

 

   He released a nervous chuckle, a playful quip escaping his mouth: "Gee, you can't take a joke, can you?" His laughter shoved its way out between his teeth, attempting to lighten the grim atmosphere.

 

   In an instant, she whipped around to meet his nervous gaze, her eyes piercing him. The usual pale white of her skin was now marred by chaotic splatters of pitch black that clawed their way across her arms and face, similar to an oil spill. Blindingly neon-colored eyes erupted in a vortex of spirals, covering her body from head to toe.

 

   He recoiled instinctively, his heart racing as a mishmash of bright colored spots danced before his eyes. An unsettling sensation crawled up his spine. The sight of her abstracting sent a jolt of fear through him, twisting his stomach into anxious knots. This... this isn't what I wanted, he thought frantically. His breath came in short, desperate gasps. As the panic clawed at him, pulsing more violently with each passing moment, he felt his grip on reality slipping, caught in the chaos of colors that seemed to swirl and taunt him.  She looks just like them, he thought with complete and utter despair.

 

  It's all your fault, a voice mocked him.

 

 

   He practically flung himself out of bed, the blankets falling to the floor. Sweat clung to his fur, a reminder of the panic that gripped him, and he gasped for air, his lungs burning from use. His pupils shrank in fear as he attempted to process the jumbled mess of saturated colors around him. His eyes darted around wildly, struggling to clear the dark spots that danced across his vision from rising to a stance too quickly. It took a moment of blinking for him to process: Oh, wait a minute, this is my room.

 

   A deep, relieved breath he hadn't realized he was holding escaped his lips, but it was abruptly cut short as he froze in his tracks. "What the hell was that even about?" he muttered aloud to seemingly nobody. His voice sounded hoarse from waking up and was laced with confusion. A grimace tugged at the corners of his mouth. Yeah, this can't possibly be good, he thought hopelessly, pinching his non-existent nose in annoyance. Just as things were starting to get 'better' for him. While processing this information, a very, VERY, loud knocking erupted from behind the door, jolting him out of his mental spiral.

 

   And no, he did not get scared in the slightest, don't get the wrong idea.

 

   He let out a deep sigh, frustration having him in a vice-grip. Time to internalize this forever and forget this ever happened, he thought bitterly. He plastered on his typical easy-going grin, but a subtle furrow creased his brow, betraying his agitation as he gradually reached for the door handle. Just as his gloved fingers brushed against the handle, he caught a brief flicker in his hand- a glitch. It sent a jolt of horror coursing through him. He froze, staring wide-eyed at his hand as if it were some foreign object. His mind began racing to comprehend what he had just seen.

 

   The easy-going front he protrayed every day felt like a mask that kept trying to slip from his face.

 

   Is this what Gangle feels on a day-to-day basis? No way, did I just compare myself to ribbons? I really am losing it, he thought to himself hysterically. Before he could gather his thoughts, the door suddenly swung forward, falling off the hinges and faceplanting onto the ground with a resounding crash, nearly knocking him off balance. He stumbled back, his heart pounding. Behind the door was Pomni, standing there awkwardly, her hand still positioned mid-knock, an expression of surprise etched onto her face.

Notes:

Heyy, hope this wasn't totally terrible and the worst thing you've ever read. This is my first ever fic, so lmk if it's total ass in the comments or something.

UMM AND SORRY FOR SUCH A SHORT CHAPTER, THE NEXT ONES WILL BE MUCH LONGER 💔

Chapter 2

   Oh, wonderful. Absolutely perfect! Just the person I was dying to see right now, he thought, his mind dripping with an overdrawn sarcasm as he rubbed a weary hand down his face dramatically. After a deliberately loud sigh, he forced himself to regain his composure, allowing the corners of his lips to curl into his trademark grin.

 

  "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he sneered, folding his arms tight against his chest, attempting to feign nonchalance despite the fact that his heart raced in her presence. Please, for the love of all that's holy, do NOT mention anything from yesterday, he screamed internally, a thin sheet of sweat building up along his brow.

 

   Pomni stood frozen in the doorway, wide-eyed, her arm half-raised from knocking. "I..." Her voice trembled with confusion. Her arm fell uselessly to her side. She blinked between Jax and the absolute massacre of what used to be his door.

 

   Jax followed her gaze, then gave a slow, dismissive shrug. "Oh, that?" he said, voice breezy, as if this were a regular, everyday occurrence. "Oh, yeah, that just happens," he declared, waving his hand dismissively, not caring to elaborate. There was a twisted satisfaction in seeing her so lost; he wanted to laugh at the current dumbfounded expression on her face.

 

   "Ah..I see," she paused, momentarily taken aback. After a beat, she cleared her throat, "Anyway, we have an adventure today, that you're uncharacteristically late for; I volunteered to come find you." (And because no one else was exactly willing to risk their sanity by fetching you, she left unsaid.) 

 

   "Fantastic," Jax muttered, his tone sharper than usual. In irritation, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to meet her eyes. He stretched his limbs before giving a kick to the debris of his door, scattering the splinters across the ground.

 

   Pomni hesitated, then pressed on. "And I think we should… maybe talk about what happened ye–"

 

   But Jax was having none of it. Zero. Nada. Panic surged within him; without thinking, he slammed a hand down in front of her face, a desperate bid to halt whatever flood of words was about to spill from her mouth. Yet, all that followed was the sound of her confusion. The nearly comical sight of her sputtering almost coaxed a laugh from him–almost.

 

   "Uh-uh. Nope. Nooope." His voice wobbled as he shoved past her with forced confidence, practically bolting for the hallway.

 

   "No time for talkin', Pom-p–" He choked, coughed, and stumbled over the nickname before blurting, "-Pomni. Right. We gotta get going!" The urgency in his voice rang hollow; he just needed space, an escape from her probing gaze and the emotions he was determined to keep buried…forever.

 

   Turning on his heel, he practically dashed down the corridor, never daring to look back at the confusion and exasperation etched on Pomini's face, stuck halfway between chasing after him and standing there in utter disbelief.

 

 

   As Jax tore through the seemingly endless corridors of the circus, the aggressively white and black checkered floors burned into his retinas. The atmosphere buzzed with an overly cheery energy that just radiated "fun." He could feel his patience unraveling with each step. He felt himself inching closer to committing a heinous crime the longer he spent his time here.

 

   Finally, he stumbled out into the heart and center of the circus, the center stage where chaos tended to originate. The scene before him made his jaw tighten instantly– yep, definitely NOT in the mood for this today. Kinger was, of course, buried deep inside his usual fortress of pillows, entirely removed from any sort of reality. Not that anything ever phased him. Jax was pretty sure Kinger mentally checked out of the digital circus months ago.

 

   And maybe, just maybe, he had the right idea. Jax could already picture it: himself lying in his own fortress pillows, all his problems being politely ignored until they just seemingly disappeared. No teamwork, no Caine, no "adventures," and DEFINITELY no Pomni. Just him, his ego, and a hell of a lot of pillows.

 

   And if he was being honest? It was pretty tempting.

 

   Meanwhile, Gangle and Zooble were practically glued together, their affection so glaringly apparent that it made Jax roll his eyes so hard it made his head hurt. Though the real surprise came from the sharp feeling in his chest. Jealousy. Oh, hell no. Where did THAT come from? He thought wildly, trying to shake off the persistent feeling.

 

   He yanked his gaze around the room, desperate for a distraction–only to land squarely on Caine.

 

   Of course. 

 

   Caine smiled at him, his pearly whites practically blinding Jax. And then–

 

   "GOOOOOOD MORNING, MY GIGACHAD GYATTS!" Caine's obnoxiously loud voice echoed throughout the circus. 

 

   The sound reverberated in Jax's skull, each syllable a personal attack on his sensitive ears. He visibly winced with every word, grinding his teeth together. Nearby, the sudden outburst of noise startled Gangle, who jumped with a squeak, faltering before collapsing in a heap right into Zooble, who groaned as they caught her.

 

   Jax stood stiffly a few paces away, arms crossed tightly against his chest. His face twisted into an expression of sheer disbelief. He shot a disapproving side-eye at Caine, an exasperated grimace stretched across his features. Seriously? "Gigachad Gyatts"? How does Caine keep finding new, creative ways to be somehow MORE unbearable? 

 

   "Since you all worked so well together on the last adventure," Caine announced with manic glee, "I've cooked up another! One that demands your teamwork and cooperation yet again!" Jax felt as though his heart had plummeted to his stomach, the world around him fading to deafening silence. His grin faltered for a split second. More teamwork. Fantastic. It's like he's doing this just to spite me, Jax thought hysterically.

 

   From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Pomni, her brows drawn together in concern as she studied him intently. 

  

   That look was dangerous.

 

   He slapped his easy-going grin back on effortlessly, hoping it masked the pounding inside his chest. Pomni hesitated, her lip caught gently between her teeth, wrestling with the urge to voice her thoughts. Jax noticed her internal struggle, which intensified his own anxiety.

 

   Smile. Just….smile. Keep it together. Don't let her ask. Don't let her see.

 

   It's for the best, he thought to himself grimly, the memories of his nightmare beginning to resurface in his mind. It's for the best, he reverberated, even if it felt like he was being torn apart at the seams.

 

   "...You only get TWO chances to survive after you've been caught by the killer!" Caine roared suddenly, raising two fingers and swinging them around dramatically. "So don't waste them!"

 

   Jax was hardly listening. His focus was locked squarely on Pomni, on the concern etched into her face. It was unbearable, that look. He'd rather run straight into the killer's arms than deal with unpacking it further.

 

   And then– snap .

 

   Caine's fingers clicked together, and the world folded in on itself. The stage dissolved in an instant, colors twisting until the cast vanished from sight. Jax barely had time to curse before the world ripped him away.

 

 

 

   Jax rematerialized with a disorienting snap, blinking into existence in an entirely different corner of the circus. The obnoxious colors that normally assaulted his eyes had been stripped away, grays and blacks, a stark contrast from before. It looked like someone had sucked all the life out of the place. The muted colors were undeniably easier on the eyes, though. As his gaze dropped to his own body, he realized his signature vibrant purple fur was still very much intact, practically glowing against the monochrome world.  His attire, the same overalls he wore every day, was still secure on his body. Out of place didn't even begin to cover what he was feeling.

 

   With a sly smile tugging at his lips, he muttered under his breath, "Guess dentures blew the entire budget on the moody scenery and forgot to save for costume design." He gave a meek shrug and continued down the hallway, each step echoing softly on the floor beneath him. He felt a chill in the air, yet his expression remained carefree, seemingly unbothered by unsettling scenery. Finally, after what felt like endless looping halls, he turned a corner–and stopped.

 

   A generator sat in the middle of the path, its design sharp and in high definition; the difference was jarring compared to the circus's low-poly cartoonish style. Intrigued, Jax squinted and leaned in closer, and his eyes quickly caught sight of a figure crouched on the other side. As he got a better look, he realized it was Zooble who was finicking with the wires in the generator. Their usual crab claw was swapped out for a massive wrench that was welded onto their arm. They muttered a curse under their breath, frustration radiating from their posture.

 

   A slow, mischievous grin crept across Jax's face. Oh, this was just perfect.

 

   "Well, well, well, " he practically purred, "Do you even have a clue what you're doing?" His voice dripped with mockery, his grin widening as his eyes swept over Zooble's hunched form and the mess that was supposed to be a generator.

 

   Zooble groaned loudly in annoyance without looking up, "Oh, for the love of-[BOINK] off, Jax!" their voice snapped. With a sharp, exaggerated flick of their wrist, they raised their free hand and extended their censored middle finger at him in typical Zooble fashion. "What would you know anyway? You barely listened to any of Caine's instructions!"

 

   Jax smirked, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Look at you," he drawled, voice dripping with mockery. "Swinging that wrench around like it's going to magically fix the wires. Ooh, maybe try asking them to politely reconnect themselves?" A snicker slipped out as he watched Zooble's jaw tighten.

 

   Zooble's mismatched eyes narrowed. "Okay, genius," they snapped, their voice dripping with sarcasm. In one sharp motion, they ripped the wrench from their arm and chucked it across the room, where it clattered against the wall. "Since you're obviously an expert, you fix this heap of junk." They gave the generator a condescending pat.

 

   Jax leaned forward just slightly, his cocky grin never faltering, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Oh no, no, no. I wouldn't dream of stealing your thunder. Watching you struggle is plenty enough entertainment for me."

 

   Zooble's face pinched into a scowl as their shoulders tensed in irritation. "We're supposed to be a team, you moron." The annoyance in them building as they suppressed the urge to throw something at him. 

 

   "Oh, relax," Jax finally said with a mock sigh, rolling his shoulders. "Fine. I'll help. How hard could it be, really? It's just… wires.” With a casual flick of his fingers, he knelt down to confront the tangled mess of the generator's cables.

 

   "Okay, let's see here…" He squinted at the messy cluster of wires, his smirk faltering just slightly. His brow furrowed as he studied the jumble of wires. "Blue with… blue? That's how this works, yeah?" he muttered under his breath.

 

   Behind him, Zooble buried their face in their palm with an audible groan.

 

   Still, Jax pressed on. He pinched the blue wires together until they snapped into place with a quiet, satisfying CLICK!

 

   His grin returned instantly. "Ha! What did I tell you? No manual, no problem. Who needs that when you've got raw, natural talent?" He gestured down at himself cockily.

 

   Feeling a surge of confidence, he grabbed a pair of green wires, "Alright, green goes with green. Piece of cake," he said with a cheeky grin. The wires resisted, refusing to connect, and Jax's smirk twitched with irritation as he tried again.

 

   "C'mon… don't be shy." He gave them a playful little nudge." With a burst of determination (or maybe just sheer overconfidence), he shoved them together with unnecessary force. Unfortunately for him, this move blew up in his face. Literally.

 

   "What the—?!" Jax yelped, springing backward and falling right on his ass like he'd just licked the insides of an outlet. His whole body spasmed, a jittery bolt of electricity zapping through his veins, and he froze in place with a twitch before letting out a dramatic groan. Clutching his head like it personally betrayed him, he rubbed the sore spot with an exaggerated wince.

 

   "Nice going," Zooble deadpanned, arms crossing with a scowl. "Real smooth, jack[!#$!]. Now we have to start all over–" They cut themselves off the instant their mitchmatched eyes landed on him. 

 

   For a moment, they went perfectly still. But then the cracks appeared. First, a strangled snort. Then a shaky wheeze. Then they collapsed into full-on laughter.

 

   Jax's ears twitched at the noise. He slowly side-eyed them.

 

   "…What?" he asked flatly, voice half-confused, half-annoyed. He followed their gaze downward–

 

   –and immediately regretted it.

 

   His fur, normally slick and smugly well-kept, now stood on end in every possible direction–like he'd shoved a fork into a toaster submerged in a tub full of water. A flush of heat rose to his face as Zooble doubled over, practically crying from laughter at his expense.

 

   He exhaled sharply, cheeks puffing in flustered frustration, and began slapping at himself to attempt to smooth himself out.

 

   "Not. A. Word. About this to anyone, got it ?" he hissed through clenched teeth, jabbing an accusatory finger at them.

 

   Zooble didn't even blink. "Yeah, no. I'm not even remotely threatened by you. Especially not when you look like… that."

 

   Jax's cheeks burned an unflattering shade of red, his ears twitching in embarrassment as he threw up his arms to shield himself away from Zooble. "J-Just–ugh–just fix the damn generator already," he sputtered, voice cracking with embarrassment. He dragged his gloved palm down his face.

 

   Zooble didn't even bother hiding their smirk. "Shame I don't have a camera right now," they muttered dryly as they reluctantly turned back to the mess of wires, leaving Jax to stew in his own misery.

 

   For a beat, the only sound was the soft hum of the generator. Then Jax's grin crept back, sly and dangerous. He rubbed at his chin in thought.

 

   “Y’know… speaking of shame…” His voice dripped with mischief. "Where's your girlfriend at? Surprised she isn't at your side right now. You guys are practically attached at the hip." He wiggled his eyebrows.

 

   Zooble's mismatched eyes flicked up, their whole frame stiffening. "Girlfriend? What—" Their voice cracked into a sharp scoff, but a faint pinkish blush betrayed them.

 

   Jax's grin stretched further, "Gangle. And don't even try pretending you two aren't 'cozy' . I mean, you practically begged Caine for the ability to have sex the other day—" His words broke into snickers as the memory replayed in his head.

 

   Zooble's blush deepened further, their jaw tightening as they tried to focus on the wires, hands moving faster in denial. Jax, of course, was eating it up, his grin stretching ear to ear.

 

   "Oh yeah?" Zooble snapped suddenly, voice sharp as glass. Their mismatched gaze locked onto him, trying to wrestle control back into their hands. "What about you and Pomni, then?"

 

   The smirk on Jax's face froze. "Me and—Pomni?" His voice pitched up incredulously. He barked out a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck with exaggerated dismissal. "What about it? That's–hah–you think–"

 

   "You've been acting weird around each other ever since yesterday." Zooble's voice cut clean, confident despite their earlier fumble. They tilted their head, watching him closely. "Ever since you two won the adventure together."

 

   Jax groaned and tugged down at his ears, thunking his forehead against the generator with a hollow clunk. Great. Perfect. Is it really that obvious?

 

   He peeled his face away from the metal, a forced grin snapping back into place on his face like a mask. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Zoobs. Maybe it's the stress of the adventure getting to your head." His tone was dismissive, though the way his jaw clenched betrayed him.

 

   Zooble narrowed their eyes, skeptical. "Uh-huh. Sure. Because I imagined the little looks you two were tossing each other during Caine's whole spiel earlier, right? That wasn't real. Just my imagination." Their gaze lingered, sharp and assessing, zeroing in on the thin cracks in Jax's grin.

 

  "Yeah, you were just imagining things," he said weakly, the words exiting his mouth too quickly. His grin twitched–not smug this time, but strained.

 

   Zooble's voice dropped, "You and I both know that's not true. Just admit–"

 

   CRASH!

 

   The banter died on their tongues instantly. The floor rattled beneath them as a deafening clang tore through the circus, the sound reverberating deep into their bones. Both of them froze, the generator's hum being the only thing filling the silence.

 

   Jax's ears flicked back sharply, his grin fading. He and Zooble exchanged a glance, both wide-eyed, both silently daring the other to speak first.

 

   "Alright, what the actual–" Jax began, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual, tinged halfway between irritation and dread.

 

   Before he could finish, a scream tore through the circus, sounding an awful lot like Ragatha. The scream was coming directly toward them.

 

   Jax groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Of course. It just had to be us."

 

   With perfect timing, the generator gave a final sputter, its cautious orange glow flipping to a bright Green. Green means good! Time to go.

 

   Jax pushed himself off the floor, ready to bolt–

 

   Only to be promptly flattened a second later by Ragatha herself. She sprinted into him at full speed, still screaming at the top of her lungs. The collision sent him sprawling onto his back, her wild, yarn hair smacking him in the face as she scrambled up without missing a beat.

 

   "Sorry!" she yelped breathlessly, already sprinting past him and vanishing into a different hallway of the circus. Jax lay there for a moment, wheezing, before scoffing loud enough for Zooble to hear.

 

   "Unbelievable. No respect. Absolutely none." His ears twitched as he snapped his head toward the path she'd fled from. His stomach dropped in fear. If Ragatha was running, something, somehow, far worse than her, was chasing.

 

   Zooble suddenly straightened beside him, their hand twitching warily.

 

   Then came the sound.

 

   SCRAAAAAPE.

 

   Jax was immediately reminded of the sound of nails on a chalkboard and cringed back, wincing as he clapped his gloved hands over his ears. The sound was followed by an annoying, manic voice echoing down the hall.

 

   "Raaagathaaaaa~!"

 

   Jax's blood ran cold. He knew that voice.

 

   "Oh, come on," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Caine made Gangle the killer? Yeah, sure. Why not. This definitely can’t get any worse."

 

   Okay, a quick word of advice: never say things can't get worse because they will, almost always without fail, get TEN times worse than your current predicament.  

 

   Gangle stumbled into view from the far end of the hallway, dragging a comically large sword. The point of the sword scratched against the floor with an ear-splitting shriek. The manic grin in her mask made Jax's skin crawl with unease.

 

   Her gaze snapped to him.

 

   The shift in her demeanor was instant. Calm– if you could even call it that–one second. The Next? Her entire body snapped taut, grip on the sword hilt tightening with murderous precision.

 

   She wants to kill me, he thought hysterically, pupils shrinking to jittery squares. She actually wants to kill me.

 

   Without any hesitation, Gangle shrieked and charged, the sword raised in the air, ready to come swinging down.

 

   Jax had no time to process. Pure instinct took over. He grabbed Zooble by the shoulders and shoved them directly into her path.

 

   “What the [%$#!], Jax?!" Zooble yelled, their curses echoing as they collided with Gangle, both tumbling into a tangled mess of limbs.

 

   “Don’t take it personal!” Jax shouted over the chaos, already halfway through the hallway.

 

   “You’re just..uh–more durable than me!” He threw them a cheeky salute.

 

   “YOU COWARDLY SON OF A–” Zooble’s furious curses were cut short as Gangle lunged again, her unhinged laughter echoing throughout the circus walls.

 

   Jax didn't wait to see the outcome. He bolted.

 

   “Love you too, Zoobs!” Jax shouted over his shoulder, voice dripping with a false sense of sweetness, even as his chest burned and panic lit his eyes.

 

   His legs carried him on autopilot, feet pounding against the floor as he tore through twisting corridors that seemed to stretch on forever. His ears flicked around frantically, straining for the sound of pursuit.

 

   Nothing–Just the sound of his labored breathing.

 

   At last, his body betrayed him. His stride faltered, knees buckling. He staggered into the wall, palm splayed against it for balance. His chest heaved as he sucked down greedy, uneven gulps of air. Sweat slicked his fur, and the pounding in his head made him feel dizzy.

 

   For one blissful, fleeting moment, there was nothing but silence.

 

"...Okay," he wheezed, leaning his forehead to press against the cool wall. His lips twisted into a crooked smile. 

 

   "Clear. I'm in the clear. Easy peasy. Crisis averted. Not even worried—” But of course, it was never actually that easy.

 

   "Over here!" A voice shot out through the stillness. Jax's head snapped around, dread sinking into his gut. Looking down the hall, Zooble stood next to Gangle, pointing in his general direction. They were working together.

 

   Jax's jaw dropped.

 

   “…Are you—” he gulped, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” his voice cracked with pure disbelief. And just like that, he was off again.

 

   His legs felt heavier, and each stride felt weaker from overuse. The only thing keeping him going was the panic gripping his heart. He shot forward, weaving through the distorted corridors, every nerve screaming at him to move faster. Against his better judgment, he risked a glance behind him.

 

   Ohh, Bad idea.

 

   They were closer. Much closer than he would have originally guessed. Zooble's mismatched glare locked on him. Gangle's oversized sword was being dragged against the floor, her smile twisted into something giddy and wrong. Fear jolted through Jax like electricity, and his adrenaline surged, carrying him harder, faster–

 

   BANG!

 

   The sound cracked through the air, and suddenly his chest burned. He stumbled forward, eyes dropping, and there it was. Blood, vivid and graphic, splattering down his periwinkle fur, soaking into his clothes.

 

   "Ah," he gasped out, blinking rapidly, "so that's where the budget went this time. Realistic gore. Classy. "

 

   His eyes snapped to the source. Zooble, standing steady, gun still aimed at his chest. Their face unreadable, though the faintest flicker of smug satisfaction crossed it.

 

   Jax bared his teeth, lifted one trembling arm, and flipped them off. "Go [BOINK] yourself." Then he bolted again, legs nearly buckling beneath him.

 

   He tore through another twisting hall, skidding into an opening lined with doors; practically hundreds of them, stretching endlessly in every direction. With no time to think, he lunged for the nearest door, slamming his shoulder into it so hard it nearly tore off its hinges, and then promptly slammed it behind him, locking it with a faint click.

 

   The room was suffocatingly dark, darker than the rest of the circus. A faint fluttering noise filled the air. Jax tilted his head back, and that’s when he saw them.

 

   Butterflies.

 

   Hundreds–no, thousands–of them. His stomach churned at the sight.

 

   “...Oh, great,” he muttered under his breath, forcing a crooked grin that faltered at the edges. 

 

   “Out of all the fun fears Caine could cash in on, we’re going with the bugs with way too many legs and bonus wings special. Fantastic. Love that for me.” He snapped his gaze down, refusing to give the swarming ceiling another second of attention. And there–right in the dead center of the room–stood the one thing more out of place than him in this entire fever dream.

 

   Another generator, buzzing with a low hum.

 

   Jax's legs finally gave. He slid down the door until he collapsed in a heap, blood dampening his fur, head resting against his knees. Every breath rattled in his chest, his vision edging black.

 

  "Jax?!"

 

   The voice cut through his haze. Irritatingly familiar.

 

   Of course. Of course, it had to be him.

 

   His half-lidded eyes flicked toward the sound, sluggish and heavy. His blurred gaze caught a wobbling silhouette in the corner. Yep. Kinger, because apparently this nightmare wasn’t humiliating enough on its own.

 

   Great, Jax thought bitterly, his brain dripping with half-coherent sarcasm. Out of literally anyone in the circus, he’s the last face I get before passing out. Exactly how I wanted to go out. His lips twitched into something halfway between a grimace and a smirk, but the moment didn’t last. A darkness surged into his view, swallowing him whole.

 

Notes:

HEYYYY!! Hope you liked this chapter of Jax being a D1 rage baiter, feel free lmk what you think of it :)

This is gonna get super crazy, I haven't really planned this out, but I'll try my best, haha

ALSOO THANKS FOR ALL THE KUDOS!!

Chapter 3

   Jax jolted upright like he'd been yanked by a string, his fur plastered to his back with cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest in an unusual panic as he tried to piece together...well, anything.  He suddenly grimaced, one hand automatically pressing to his chest in pain. Real pain. His hand clutched his ribs, confusion scrawled across his face.

That's not supposed to happen here.

The thought died at the sound of a loud knock against the door. Déjà vu prickled cold down his spine. Every instinct shrieked don't move, but his legs betrayed him, pushing him off the mattress and carrying him to the handle of the door. His fingers curled around it, reluctant, tight.

The door creaked open with the turn of his wrist.

"…Ribs?" The word cracked like glass in his throat.

And there they were. Ribbit. Same smug grin, perched on their face like nothing had changed, like nothing had happened.

Jax's chest seized. He staggered forward, desperate to grab hold before the world corrected itself and stole them away again—but Ribbit shoved him back with a nervous laugh, brows knitting in confusion.

"Geez, Jax. Haven't even been gone that long. Miss me already?" They winked, their grin cheeky as ever.

What.The.[@#$!]

Jax's mind reeled, a sharp sting burning his eyes, threatening to spill over. They're supposed to be gone. They were gone.

No—no, that wasn't right. They were here. They were right here.

He forced a grin that felt wrong on his face, letting out a broken laugh, "You don't even know the half of it, Ribs." 

Ribbit just chuckled, catching him by the wrist and tugging him out of the room without a second thought. Jax stumbled after them, too dazed to notice the way the walls behind him flickered and warped, or the faint glitch that rippled through the light overhead. None of it mattered anyway—because Ribbit was back.

They strolled the circus halls like nothing at all was wrong–because nothing was wrong.

The two of them moved side by side. Ribbit's steps were easy and laid-back, and Jax found himself slipping right back into rhythm beside them, like nothing had changed.

Because nothing has.

"So," Ribbit drawled mischievously, voice laced with their typical teasing inflection, "what kind of chaos are we cooking up today? You still got it in you, or have you gone softttt?" They nudged Jax's shoulder with their own playfully.

"As if," Jax smirked, the answer rolling off his tongue without hesitation. A plan already flickered at the edges of his mind, pushing the earlier panic down where it couldn't reach him. Why was I even panicking? He shook his head, brushing the thought aside. "I'm the king of this circus, Ribs. Still got every trick in the book."

"Oh yeah?" Ribbit leaned closer, eyes bright. "Then what's the plan?"

Jax tilted his head in mock thought, gaze drifting until it landed squarely on Ragatha's door. His grin widened.

"… I'm thinking something classic."

Ribbit's brows rose, an eager spark lighting up in their eyes.

"Classic?"

"Bucket. Doorframe. Fake centipedes." Jax jabbed a finger toward Ragatha's door, and Ribbit's grin widened instantly. They'd run this one a hundred times, and somehow Ragatha still screamed every single time. Old, maybe—but still funny enough to be worth it.

Ribbit barked out a laugh, sharp and sudden. Jax blinked. Something about it landed wrong in his ears, but before he could place it—

"Timeless. I like it. Just like old times, huh?" Ribbit's voice carried that same mischievous lilt, but underneath, something else. A weight that made Jax's smirk falter for half a second before he forced it back into place.

"I'll grab the supplies. You wait here." Ribbit spun on their heel, practically sprinting down the hall with giddy energy.

And just like that, the sound was gone. The hallway fell silent, oppressive. Jax shifted uneasily, his grin slipping away like it was never real in the first place.

Old times. The words dug into his chest like knives. Why couldn't he remember the last time they'd done this together? Why did it feel like there wasn't a last time?

The harder he reached for the memory, the more it slipped away—splintering, warping. His mind shoved him into the cracks: static chewing across Ribbit's skin, their grin twisting, a scream tearing raw as they broke apart in front of him—his hand outstretched, too slow, always too slow—

"What's with that face? You look like you've seen a ghost."

The words snapped him back. Jax jerked his head up, and there they were. Ribbit—standing right in front of him again, a bucket dangling in one hand, a coil of rope in the other, grin bright as ever.

But their eyes… their eyes flickered at the edges, static crawling just out of sight.

Jax stumbled back, ears drooping, pulse hammering so hard it made his vision buzz. "H-how'd you—"

Ribbit shoved some of the supplies into his arms, cutting him off with a crooked grin. "C'mon, relax, Jax. We've got work to do."

For a second, Jax just stood there, staring. Clutching the rope and bucket like they might vanish if he let go. It's fine. This is fine. Everything's fine. He looped the words through his head about 80 times, until the edges of his panic dulled. By the time he looked up again, the moment had already slipped away, like it hadn't even happened.

When he blinked, Ribbit was looking at him funny, their brow raised. They gave a sharp jerk of the head toward Ragatha's door, urging him along. Jax gave his head a little shake, forcing himself forward.

Ribbit crouched and practically dumped the rest of the supplies out of Jax's arms in a heap right in front of Ragatha's doorframe, then looked up at him with a grin that was too expectant, like they were waiting for him to call the next shot.

"Jesus Christ, Ribs—yeah, no, perfect. Just alert her of our presence before we even set this thing up." Jax rolled his eyes, exasperation dripping from his voice as he flicked Ribbit's forehead.

Ribbit barked a laugh, swatting his hand away and flipping him off—though halfway through, the sound glitched, skipping like a broken record.

Jax's smirk faltered, just for a second. He covered it with a scoff, pushing the thought away.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

"The old doll can't hear jack anyway, no worries," Ribbit waved him off, though they did lower their voice, their movements turning quieter. Jax smirked, just a little, at the effort.

"Right, right. Anyway—you know the drill. You crouch behind the door, I'll tie the rope to the bucket, and balance it on top. Chop chop." Jax's grin spread smugly across his face.

Ribbit dropped into position on the left side of the door, crouched low. Jax grasped Ragatha's handle and eased it open with the faintest creak. He clambered up onto Ribbit's shoulders, bucket in hand, and began to lift it toward the frame.

Without warning, Ribbit gave a sudden twitch, nearly sending him tumbling.

"Whoa—what the hell, Ribs?" Jax hissed down, his tone half-snark, half-genuine. He nudged Ribbit's head lightly with his foot.

"Sorry, sorry—you're just heavy," Ribbit teased, their voice strained under the weight.

Jax rolled his eyes. "Wowww, blaming me instead of your puny little arms, I see." His tongue peeked out in concentration as he finally got the bucket steady, tying the rope to the handle with a neat tug. With a small hop, he slid off Ribbit's shoulders and plopped down beside them against the wall. The two sat shoulder to shoulder, waiting in hushed anticipation, the hallway far too quiet except for the sound of their breaths.

At last, Ragatha's door creaked open.

The bucket tipped.

A rain of rubbery, wriggling centipedes spilled over her head. Ragatha shrieked, hopping in place as she tugged at the fake insects clinging to her hair and shoulders. Jax yanked the rope with a sharp tug, the bucket snapping back into his hands like a trophy.

"Jaxxxxx!" she wailed, voice echoing down the hall.

Jax and Ribbit bolted, laughter erupting out of them. Jax's legs pumped hard against the floor, his ears bouncing wildly. Ribbit's laugh rang louder than his own, bouncing off the walls, pushing him faster, harder. His sides ached from running, from laughing; he almost folded over mid-sprint.

For a moment, it was perfect—pure, reckless joy, the kind that left no room for thought.

But then Jax slowed. His stride faltered, legs suddenly heavy, his chest clamping tight like he'd run headfirst into a wall. He staggered, breath catching, the grin still half-fixed on his face as his eyes landed on a blank stretch of wall.

Where a door should've been.

His laughter died in his throat.

"Wait." The word tore out of Jax before he realized it, his chest clamping tight. "Hold up—someone's missing."

Ribbit's grin faltered, freezing in place. For a fraction of a second, their eyes burned with something dark. "Don't." Ribbit grabbed at his wrist and started pulling him forward.

Jax blinked hard, disoriented, but his legs carried him forward anyway, dragged by Ribbit's grip. Pain surged in his chest, hotter now, sharper, until it nearly knocked the wind out of him. The walls bent and rippled like water, the hallway stretching far ahead for what seemed like forever. 

His heart kicked harder, and the thought slammed into him like a fist: Pomni. Where was she? Why couldn't he remember where she went? How could he forget?

"Forget it," Ribbit hissed, their voice warped—too low, before smoothing into something bright and playful, like a performance. "Come on, Jax. Don't ruin it. We're having fun! It's better if you don't think about them. You never liked remembering anyway, right?"

The ache in his chest spiked, white-hot. Jax staggered, one hand clutching his ribs, the other scrabbling at the wall for balance as memories began to fill his mind.

His voice scraped raw as he forced the words out:

"Ribs… you— you're not supposed to be here."

Ribbit's smile twitched, just barely, their eyes going glassy and far too still.

"What are you talking about? I've always been here."

The hallway buzzed, a sick static hum that crawled into Jax's skull. The colors bled out of the world, draining into gray, into white noise. Then—memory slammed into him: Ribbit's scream. Their body melting, warping into jagged shards of static, and hundreds of neon blinking eyes. His own voice cracking, raw, begging them to hold on. The moment he realized he couldn't save them.

His ears pressed flat against his head. "No… no, you— you abstracted."

Ribbit let out a laugh, high and sharp, their grin stretching too far.

"And you let me." Their voice stuttered, "But you can do it again. Just smile, Jax. Pretend it's fine. That's what you're good at, right?"

Jax stumbled backward, breath catching in his throat, his vision tunneling. His pupils shrank to pinpricks as the walls collapsed inward, static bleeding into his vision.

Ribbit's body began to dissolve, abstracting before his eyes, tendrils of glitch tearing outward and curling around him. The world screamed with them, collapsing in waves of distortion.

"You'll always lose me."

Jax's knees buckled. His chest felt like it was caving in, his mind a mush of static and terror, every nerve screamed as he pictured Ribbit tearing apart all over again.

"STOP IT—!" His voice tore out, raw and broken, hands clawing at his ears as if he could erase the memory physically.

"Jax! Snap out of it!"

 

 

 

He jerked upright, gasping, every heartbeat hammering in his skull. The world wavered around him—the edges of the room flickered, static crawling across walls and ceiling, and for a moment, he could swear Ribbit's abstracting form in the darkness of the room.

Then Kinger's face slammed into view, too close, eyes wide and frantic, shaking him with enough force to rattle his skull. His chest ached, ribs screaming, and for one dizzy, terrifying second, he couldn't tell if he was awake… or still trapped in that nightmare.

"Oh, for—" Jax wheezed, swatting weakly at him. "Get off of me." He shoved Kinger away, harder than he intended.

His shaky hand dragged down his face. His heart still hammered; his throat felt raw. Every blink brought afterimages—Ribbit's grin flickering, then warping into a mound of static right before his eyes.

He let out a hollow laugh, curling forward until his forehead pressed against his knees. Kinger looked down at him, eyes heavy with… concern? No, maybe pity. Oh hell.

Jax stayed like that for a long while, just breathing, waiting for his pulse to stop hammering against his ribs. Even once it slowed, the words lingered in his mind, clinging like static–

 

You'll always lose me.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tight. Not funny. Not funny at all.

Another long moment passed. He just sat there, struggling to steady his breath, Kinger still lingering in his line of sight. This is so embarrassing.

Jax started to push himself up, only to slump forward with a groan, the bullet wound reminding him it existed. Kinger swooped in just in time, pressing a steady hand to his shoulder and pushing his back against the wall.

Jax's lips curled into something sharp, half-smile, half-snarl. "Out of everyone I could've woken up to—literally the entire freak show—I get you." He coughed miserably, wincing, but forced a chuckle. "What'd I do, Kinger? Win the grand prize in life's misery raffle?"

The grin faltered as his ears twitched at the constant rustle of wings. The butterflies overhead hadn't stopped. Neither had the pain clawing at his chest. And from the way Kinger's eyes flicked between the wound and Jax's trembling hands, it was clear none of this was ending anytime soon, either.

Kinger flinched, hands hesitating like he wasn't sure whether to hold him up or let go. "Y-you weren't breathing right, I—" His voice cracked.

"Relax, old man. Still alive. Can't die in the circus, remember?" Jax sucked in a shaky breath, pressing his hand hard against his chest as if it could keep him from falling apart. "Although… honestly? Jury's still out."

He looked down at his hands, watching the blood seep from his fingers. His pulse spiked, heart hammering with the reminder that he was more human than he wanted to admit. Dizziness spun at the edges of his vision from fear–err, no, that actually might've been from the blood loss.

The worst part wasn't the panic. It was the traitorous part of him that wanted to believe the dream—the part that wished Ribbit had really been there, grinning like nothing had ever happened. That maybe… he hadn't lost them after all.

He didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he opened them again. Kinger was still there. Still watching. Still waiting, like he might actually crumble apart at any second.

And maybe… he would.

"Are you—are you alright?" Kinger's voice wavered, just enough to betray his worry.

"What's it to you, old man?" Jax tried to smirk, but it cracked halfway through. Pain stabbed through his chest, dragging a ragged groan from him. "Agh—yeah, no, it hurts like hell. Fun new feature, huh? Bleeding, realistic pain… Caine really outdid himself this time." He slapped a grin on anyway. He always did.

Silence stretched, broken only by the soft flapping of the butterflies overhead and the sound of the generators humming. Then Kinger reached into his coat pocket—don't ask how deep it went; it might as well have been another dimension in there—and pulled out a tiny, glowing butterfly.

He held it out with both hands, carefully, like it was the most precious thing in the world, and offered it to Jax.

Jax blinked at it. Then at Kinger. Then back at the butterfly. "… You're giving me a bug."

"A healing bug," Kinger said, almost sternly, his eyes squinting faintly in something that resembled a smile.

Jax huffed, torn between rolling his eyes and letting the lump in his throat win. "Wow. My very own magic butterfly. Just what every guy wants during an existential crisis." Still, he took it, cradling it gently in his palm. 

The butterfly brightened for a moment, then sank into his skin. Jax jerked back, eyes widening as the warmth spread across his chest. When he pressed a hand to his ribs, the pain—and the blood—was gone.

"How did—" he began, stunned.

Kinger tilted his head, smile faint but steady. "Feeling better now?"

Jax scoffed, dragging a hand down his face as if he could wipe away the disbelief. "Better? Uh… yeah. Totally. Peachier than ever." His laugh came out jagged.

"Good." Kinger decided with a low hum, "Someone's gotta keep watch. Wouldn't want my idiot son running off and abstracting in his sleep."

Jax froze. "… I'm not your—" He pinched where his nose would be. "…Whatever."

Clearing his throat, he added, "Uh… think I could get another one of those? Y'know, just in case. Safety first, all that.

"Of course," he said cheerfully, maybe a little too cheerfully to the point of suspiciousness. With a flick of his fingers, another buttery fly appeared as if spawned in thin air, landing softly in Jax's palm. Jax stared at it, blinked once, then slowly tucked it into his pocket—pockets in cartoons are infinite, so no chance of squishing a magical insect.

By the time Jax finished double-checking the butterfly's safety, Kinger was already fiddling with the generator in the middle of the room, humming a random tune.

Jax pushed himself off the ground and shuffled over to Kinger. He felt a tiny flicker of relief—Kinger was probably the only person he didn't mind seeing him like that. Mostly because he was sure Kinger had already forgotten, or would conveniently forget in about five seconds.

Jax rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers, crouched down, and got to work on the generator. A few minutes passed, and he couldn't help but notice Kinger's eyes on him, practically glued there. Jax's ears twitched. His neck itched. His brain screamed this is weird, move, run, do something!

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before locking eyes with Kinger. "I know you're staring at me, old man," he spat, a little harsher than intended. "What gives?"

Kinger didn't blink. "You've been avoiding people—more specifically, Pomni."

Jax froze, caught completely off-guard. The audacity. The nerve. And… wait, he noticed that? "Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, that's kinda my whole vibe. What's not to get about me literally hating all of you—"

"You know that's not what I meant," Kinger cut in, his voice calm and unshakable, like he had been waiting for this exact conversation for days. Lovely.

"Y'know, I really don't care what you meant, Kinger. All of this is pointless," Jax muttered, tugging at a wire a little harder than necessary.

Kinger pressed on. "You dodge Pomni. You snap at Ragatha until she stops asking if you're okay. You hang back whenever anyone tries to pull you in. It's easier to push than be pulled, isn't it?" His eyes—still locked onto Jax. "And you freeze whenever Ribbit's name comes up. Pretending they're gone won't make the ache disappear."

Something snapped inside Jax. His ears flattened, his pupils shrank to tiny squares, and he shot up to his feet, jabbing a finger at Kinger. "Don't. Don't you dare say their name." His voice broke, raw and shaking, every last ounce of control evaporating.

Kinger didn't flinch. He just blinked slowly, eyes softening like he was letting Jax's words slide off instead of sticking. "Ignoring it doesn't make it hurt less. It just makes you lonelier. And in a place like this…" His gaze drifted around the room. "…loneliness isn't just pain. It's poison. It eats you from the inside. Faster than anything else."

Jax barked a harsh laugh, jagged and bitter. "Oh, that's rich. You talking about loneliness? You're the guy who screams at shadows until someone hauls you back into reality. You don't even know what's real anymore! You're already gone, Kinger. Just too insane to realize it."

Kinger's jaw tightened, but he stayed still.

Jax leaned closer, voice sneering, sharp. "So tell me—what's worse? Being alone? Or being a washed-up lunatic, everyone humors because they're too polite to tell you you're useless?"

The words hit hard, even Jax flinched at the cruelty, but he forced a grin anyway—teeth bared in something far too crooked and sharp to be called a smile. "Go on, old man. Tell me more about how I'm 'losing myself.' At least I've got something to lose."

He let out another bark of laughter, sharp and bitter enough to taste like rust. "Newsflash: I don't need fixing. I don't need help. And I sure as hell don't need you digging around where you don't belong."

Jax shoved through the door, shoulders hunched, fists tight at his sides. Just as his foot swung toward the door, Kinger's voice cut through the room.

"You're not as alone as you think, Jax. Not unless you want to be."

The words rang through Jax's head. His ears twitched, his grin faltered, but he yanked it back into place like a mask.

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Jax finally broke it with a scoff, "Great pep talk. Ten outta ten. Very uplifting. Truly." His sarcasm cracked under the weight of everything said.

He started moving, each step dragging. "This is how it should be," he muttered under his breath, more to convince himself than anyone else. He slammed the door behind him with a little too much force, and a faint click echoed from inside the room—the generator signaling it was finally fixed.

Jax let out a long, shuddering breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His heart hammered in his chest like a runaway drumline. His fingers fumbled at the suspender of his overalls, tugging it nervously, mind spiraling.

What the hell is wrong with me? 

He forced himself to take a step forward, pretending the tremor in his chest wasn't entirely obvious. Pretending didn't make it go away, but for now, it was enough.

Notes:

HAPPY LABOR DAY!! sorry this chapter took so long, i had alot of exams that i may have or may have not flunked-umm anyway hope u enjoyed!! next one wont take so long!

im not the mosttttt content w/ this chapter tho, lmk what u think of it in the comments :)