Chapter Text
The second Pomni walks into her English class, she can immediately feel the awkward tension in the air. From who, or from where, she can't tell—but it's there, pressing in all the same.
She doesn't even know these people.
She takes a deep breath in, holding it for a count of three, and then letting it blow out softly as she walks further into the classroom.
Her eyes flick to the desk at the front of the room—empty. No teacher yet.
Scanning the room, she notices the lack of open seats. She looks down at her watch to see what time it is.
10:27.
3 minutes before class officially starts.
She chews on her bottom lip nervously, looking around to see where to sit. There are only four seats available.
The first: to the left of a goth looking girl hunched over her notebook, pencil moving furiously as though the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Black sleeves hang over her hands, and dark eyeliner is smudged around her eyes.
The second: to the right of the goth girl is an androgynous person with a bunch of piercings on their face. They look mad… Or maybe that's just their resting face, Pomni doesn't know. They look cool, though, she will give them that.
The third: next to a curly-haired red head with an eyepatch covering her right eye. Her posture is stiff as she chews on the end of her pen, looking behind her every now and then with a furrow in her brow.
The fourth: next to a boy whose oversized purple sweatshirt seems to swallow him whole. His outgrown roots make Pomni’s face scrunch up in distaste. His laptop glows faintly in front of him, though his focus is elsewhere—arms crossed tight over his chest, left leg bouncing nervously against the floor. His stare is distant, unfocused.
Pomni exhales through her nose and makes her way to the seat next to the boy.
When she's in view, he notices her almost immediately. His leg stops bouncing as his eyes flick up, sweeping over her curiously.
She gives him a polite, tight lipped smile before sliding into her seat and dropping her bag on the floor.
It isn't until the clock hits exactly 10:30 that the teacher bursts in through the door, arms overloaded with a stack of papers and books. His glasses slide down his nose as he struggles to shuffle them onto his desk.
Once everything is stacked safely on the desk, the man straightens up and beams at the class with a wide, animated smile.
“Good morning, everyone! I’m Professor Kinger, and welcome to your English class for the semester.” His voice booms with a cheerfulness that feels a little too large for the room, but not unfriendly. “I know I’ve had some of you before—ah, yes, I see some familiar faces already.”
His gaze flickers briefly to the boy seated beside Pomni, then to a handful of others across the room.
Kinger extends his arms outward before clasping his hands together dramatically. “Now then! Who here has gone over the syllabus?”
Everyone raises their hand, including Pomni.
She had read it, though doing so gave her a migraine. The amount of bizarre side tangents in the paragraphs left her massaging her temples. But she read it nonetheless.
“Excellent!” Kinger claps once, too loud, making a few students jump. “That means we don’t have to slog through all that boring stuff. Though—” He rounds the corner of his desk in a swift motion, snatching up a piece of chalk like it’s a sword— “I will answer any questions you guys have about the syllabus.”
The speed at which he talks and moves makes Pomni’s stomach flip a little just trying to keep up.
When he spins back toward the class, chalk poised, he finds only silence. Not a single hand raised.
“Wonderful! Then we’ll get started.”
And just like that, they plunge in.
The class itself is… well, not what Pomni expected. At one point, Kinger launches into a thirty-minute tangent about a metaphor buried in Frankenstein that Pomni had never once considered. By the end of it, she’s staring at her notebook in awe, surprised at how much sense it actually made. He’s jittery, yes, like his nerves are wound too tight, but there’s brilliance under the buzzing energy.
Pomni thinks, against her own nerves, that he might actually be a great teacher.
It isn’t until the end of class that Kinger sets the chalk down and claps his hands again. “Now, before you all leave—let me remind you: there’s a semester-long project you’ll be working on. But of course, you already knew that, since you read the syllabus.”
Yes, the project. Pomni sighs, running a hand through her hair.
“I’ll explain it in more detail on Wednesday,” Kinger continues, his eyes sparkling mischievously, “and I’ll also be assigning your groups.”
Assigning groups.
Groups.
Assigned groups.
Her pulse quickens. The syllabus had said nothing about groups. Absolutely nothing.
Pomni has the sudden urge to get up from her seat, leave, and never step foot into this English class ever again.
“But that's all for now, folks! I'll hopefully see everyone bright and early Wednesday morning,” he exclaims before dropping down at his desk chair, already scribbling something furiously onto one of his countless stacks of paper.
The room erupts in the usual end-of-class shuffle, but Pomni can barely hear it. Moving almost on autopilot, she gathers her things, slings her bag over her shoulder, and drifts toward the door.
She’s halfway down the hall when a voice calls after her.
“Hey, you!”
She freezes, heart skipping a beat. Slowly, she turns around.
It’s the boy who’d been sitting next to her. He looks taller now that he’s standing.
Pomni points to herself, brow furrowed. “Me?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, you.”
She blinks as he strides over, and suddenly she has to crane her neck up just to look at him properly. Geez, how tall is this guy?
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asks, tilting his head as if to study her from a different angle.
And, just as the sun hits the hallway they're in, she can see something glistening just below his lips.
A pair of piercings.
Pomni has to force her eyes up to look into his, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Uh… yeah. I’m new.”
His eyes narrow slightly, sharp and skeptical. “You don’t look eighteen. And even if you were, that’s too young to be in that class.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh—well, I’m not eighteen. This is actually my fourth year. I just… transferred here. Moved, you know?”
He stares at her a moment longer, unreadable, before his mouth curves into a smirk.
“Good to know.” He takes a step back, already turning away. “Welcome to Circadia University.”
And with that, he’s gone, leaving Pomni standing alone in the hallway.
—
Pomni’s name still hasn’t been called, and with each group assigned, her chest tightens a little more.
It's Wednesday, and professor Kinger decided on giving them their groups first before giving out more details about the semester-long project.
He has just finished calling out the fourth group, and, with what she proudly considers her “great detective skills,” Pomni quickly calculates who’s left. That leaves her and four other people.
The goth girl, the curly haired red head, the androgynous person with a bunch of piercings, and the boy that sits next to her.
Great.
“Okay, so that leaves us with…” Professor Kinger squints at the crumpled sheet of paper in his hand. “Ji-won—”
“Pomni.”
The word flies out of her mouth before she can stop it.
Kinger’s head lifts, his brows rising. “Excuse me?”
Pomni freezes, pulse jumping. She hadn’t meant to interrupt. “Oh—um, I just… prefer being called Pomni. Sorry.”
But instead of scolding her, Kinger gives a light chuckle and waves his hand. “Oh, don’t worry, dear. That’s fine. Let me write that down.”
Relief trickles in. She fiddles with the rings on her fingers as he scratches her name onto his notes.
“Pomni?”
Her head snaps to the side. The boy next to her is staring with a furrowed brow, his gaze sharp enough to make her stomach flip.
“Yeah?” she says.
For a moment he just studies her like she’s a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit. The silence stretches until he suddenly lets out a small chuckle.
“Weird name,” he says, grinning.
It knocks her off balance. “What? Oh—yeah. Haha.” She forces a laugh, cheeks burning.
Before he can add more, Kinger clears his throat, gathering the room’s attention again.
“Alright, so that gives us Pomni, Jax, Xochitl—”
“Zooble, Kinger. It’s Zooble,” the androgynous one cuts in, voice flat.
Kinger blinks, running a hand through his hair as guilt flickers across his face. “Oh, crud. You’re right. Sorry, Zooble. I’ll try to remember.”
Zooble just shrugs, leaning back in their chair. “It’s fine. You forget stuff all the time. I won’t bite your head off for it.”
The professor exhales, visibly relieved. “Thank you. So then—Pomni, Jax, Zooble, Rose, and Lily.” He claps his hands together, signaling the end of the announcements. “Now that you’re all partnered up, move into your groups and start deciding which book you’ll work on for the project. The list is on the board—choose wisely.”
The five that Kinger is talking about are The Great Gatsby, Pride and Prejudice, Frankenstein, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Hamlet.
The boy beside her—Jax, apparently—stands first and jerks his chin toward Zooble’s corner. “Come on. They’re not moving, so we’ll have to.”
Pomni hesitates before muttering, “Oh… okay,” and quickly gathers her things to follow.
They both take a seat across from Zooble and the Goth girl—Pomni doesn't know if her name is Lily or Rose—and just then the red head walks up and sits next to Zooble, looking tense and avoiding eye contact with both Jax and Pomni.
Pomni can see Jax’s mouth go downturned before it morphs into a big grin. He leans forward to regard the red head. “Hey, Rags, long time no see. Still not looking at me are you now?”
Pomni blinks. Rags?
The redhead scoffs, snapping her head to the side to face Jax with an angry furrow in her brow. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that, Juan.”
Jax tsks, crossing his arms on his chest and looking away. “Suits you better anyway, Rose.”
The tension swells, awkward and suffocating. Pomni can practically feel it buzzing in her bones, and all she wants is to run out the door. Instead, she blurts the first thing that comes to mind:
“So… uh, what book are we choosing?” She directs the question to Zooble and Lily.
“Oh, well, me and Gangle were thinking Pride and Prejudice,” Zooble says casually, nodding toward the chalkboard.
Pomni has to stifle her surprise. Gangle? First Zooble, now that. Does everyone here have an odd nickname?
Jax groans theatrically, uncrossing his arms to give Zooble a flat, unimpressed stare. “Lame. Boring.”
Zooble’s eyes narrow. “Then what do you suggest, Jax?”
He smirks, pointing at the board. “The Great Gatsby.”
Zooble tilts their head, unimpressed. “The Great Gatsby? Really? Out of all of them, you want the one that’s basically a glorified soap opera about a guy throwing parties to impress a girl?”
Jax’s grin widens, clearly thriving on the argument. “It’s more than that. It’s about ambition, obsession, the corruption of the American Dream—” He gestures broadly like he’s giving a lecture. “It’s deep.”
Zooble snorts. “Please. It’s about a guy with too much money and not enough common sense. Pride and Prejudice actually has substance. Complex characters, social commentary—”
“—and zero fun,” Jax cuts in, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. “You want us to spend a semester analyzing ballrooms and marriage proposals? Yawn.”
Rose lets out an exasperated sigh, muttering under her breath, “Here we go again.”
Pomni, caught between the two, shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She fiddles with her rings again, desperately wishing someone else would intervene. But Zooble’s glare sharpens like daggers.
“At least Pride and Prejudice is challenging,” Zooble fires back. “You’d rather do Gatsby because it’s easy.”
“Easy?” Jax raises his brows, pretending to be offended. “Nah, I’d rather do Gatsby because it’s iconic. Everyone knows Gatsby. The parties, the green light, the whole tragic mess. It’s got flair, which is more than I can say for Austen’s never-ending tea parties.”
Zooble rolls their eyes. “And that’s exactly why it’s the wrong choice. Everyone does Gatsby. It’s cliché. We could actually stand out with something different.”
Pomni opens her mouth, about to suggest Frankenstein—maybe split the difference—but Jax slaps the table with both hands, making her and Gangle jump.
“Alright, enough. We’re doing The Great Gatsby.” He doesn’t even look at the others for confirmation. He just stands, stretching lazily before striding across the room.
“Kinger!” he calls, raising his hand like a student eager to be noticed. “Group five is doing The Great Gatsby!”
Professor Kinger looks up from his notes, blinking owlishly. “Oh? Already decided? That was fast.”
“Yep.” Jax shoots a glance back at his group, grin smug and victorious. “We’re locked in.”
Pomni slumps slightly in her seat, exchanging a wary look with Zooble, who is glaring daggers at Jax’s back. Rose just pinches the bridge of her nose, muttering something Pomni can’t quite hear, and Gangle lets out the faintest sigh.
The decision is made, whether anyone else likes it or not.
—
Pomni sits cross-legged on the quad, her notebook balanced across her knees. Students lounge on the grass in clusters, some tossing frisbees, others hunched over laptops, but Pomni has carved out a quiet little corner for herself beneath a tree. She chews the end of her pencil, trying to focus on her notes.
It had been nothing but chaos in class. Between Jax and Zooble bickering like sworn enemies, Gangle off in her own world drawing, and Rose—Ragatha, she reminded herself—rolling her eyes every other second, most of the remaining hour they had was wasted in arguments. Somehow, by the end, they had divided up the work:
Jax, self-appointed leader by virtue of blurting to Kinger that they’d chosen The Great Gatsby, had claimed the role of researcher. The entire project rests on his shoulders since his notes would form the foundation of everything that followed. Just imagining that sends a shiver down Pomni’s spine.
Zooble, predictably meticulous, was given the role of adaptation analyst—tasked with studying existing versions of the novel and comparing narrative techniques. That piece would be crucial later in the semester when Kinger made them create their own adaptation.
Gangle, with their peculiar quiet confidence, volunteered to oversee that eventual adaptation. What exactly that meant, none of them had figured out yet—but at least it wasn’t due for weeks, so Pomni tried not to stress about it.
Her role, however, was much more immediate. She was the writer—the one responsible for shaping their adaptation into something with literary integrity, whether it ended up as a play, podcast, or some hybrid of both.
And then there was Ragatha. After class, Pomni had made sure to ask her what she actually preferred to be called. Considering Zooble, Jax, Gangle, and her all went by unusual names, it felt important not to assume. Ragatha had smiled faintly and said simply, “Just Ragatha.” Her role was to design the final presentation—the visuals, the layout, etc—that they are going to present in front of the class for their final
Pomni taps her pencil against the page, her notebook now filled with a podcast outline—dialogue, narrative cues, ways to modernize Gatsby without losing its themes. She’s just about finishing it up when a shadow walks in front of her, blocking out the sun.
“Hey, Pomni, right?”
Pomni looks up quickly, squinting against the sudden shade. Ragatha stands over her, clutching her bag to her side, a small, almost shy smile on her face.
“Oh, uh—yeah,” Pomni says, setting her pencil down in the crease of her notebook. “Ragatha, right?”
Ragatha nods. “Yup. That’s me.”
A beat of silence stretches between them. Ragatha shifts her weight, still smiling faintly but saying nothing. Pomni blinks, waiting. Finally, she raises an eyebrow, her voice cautious.
“Do you… need something?”
Ragatha lowers herself onto the grass across from Pomni, tugging her skirt smooth before setting her bag down beside her. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything—just watches the people passing by, as though she’s looking for the right words.
Then she exhales, a long, tired sigh. “You're new here, right?”
Pomni sets her notebook and pencil aside, nodding. "Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“Jax…” Ragatha’s mouth opens, then snaps shut. She hesitates, chewing on her lip before finally muttering, “Don’t let him bother you. He’s a handful, but… he does his work. Even if it’s at the last second.”
Pomni’s brows raise. This isn't the direction she expected the conversation to go. “I could’ve guessed something was up from the awkward tension, but… all of you know each other already, right?”
“Yeah.” Ragatha tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, her expression unreadable. “Zooble, Jax, and I had English together last year. Zooble and Gangle are roommates. And Gangle and Jax used to work at Spudsy’s together.” She pauses, makes a face, then adds, “I got to know Gangle a bit through Jax… a while back.”
Pomni lets out an awkward chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “Guess that makes me the odd one out.”
Ragatha shakes her head quickly, her smile stretching wider than before. “No, don’t worry about it! We’ll all be friends by the end of this. You, Zooble, Gangle, and me. I’ve been wanting to get to know them better anyway.”
Pomni doesn’t miss the deliberate skip over Jax’s name.
“Oh. Well… why don’t we start being friends now? I could desperately use some,” Pomni offers with a sheepish little smile.
Ragatha’s grin softens, warmer this time. “I’d like that.”
They lapse into a comfortable hush, broken only by a pair of giggling boys walking past them.
And then Ragatha leans forward slightly, her voice quiet. “If Jax ever bothers you, just tell me and I’ll deal with it. Ignoring him usually works best. Just… let him do his part, and you’ll be fine for the semester, okay? We can get through this.”
Pomni doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes drop to Ragatha’s shiny Mary Jane shoes.
What exactly has Jax done to earn a warning like this?
“Okay,” she says finally, lifting her gaze. “I’ll… try my best to ignore him, if that’s what’s best for me.”
“Great.” Ragatha pushes herself up, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it then, Pomni. See you Monday!”
“See you Monday,” Pomni echoes, giving a small wave at Ragatha’s retreating form.
—
The classroom buzzes faintly with chatter as Pomni settles into her seat, pulling out her notebook. Kinger is at the front, shuffling through a stack of papers with his usual distracted energy.
She’s barely finished digging her pencil out of her bag when a shadow drops across her desk. Jax slides into the seat beside her, sprawling out like he owns the space. His bag hits the floor with a loud thud.
Pomni blinks. “Uh… hi.”
Jax smirks, tilting his head toward her. “You don’t have to sound so scared. I’m not gonna bite.”
“That’s… reassuring,” Pomni mutters, flipping open her notebook.
Jax leans back in his chair, tapping his pen against the edge of her desk. “So, you’re the one writing our adaptation piece, right? The big, scary job.”
Pomni straightens slightly. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just curious.” He grins, sharp but tired, like he’s amused at something only he gets.
Pomni narrows her eyes. “And what about your role?”
“Research.” He stretches the word out lazily, then adds, “Which I am doing, by the way. Don’t let Ragatha scare you off with her little ‘Jax doesn’t do anything until the last minute’ crap.”
Pomni hesitates, caught off guard. “…She didn’t say it like that.”
His grin widens. “So she did talk to you about me.”
Her eyes widen, immediately backtracking. “I—well, yeah, but—”
“It's fine,” he drawls, splaying out on his desk. “She didn't have to. That’s what she tells everyone. But the thing is—” he sits up, leaning forward suddenly, and resting his elbows on her desk, “—I do a good job. Last-minute or not.” He moves forward just an inch, almost getting in her face, and giving her not a grin but a smile. “So don't worry your pretty little head about anything until it's your turn to do your part.”
Pomni feels her face get hot at his proximity. But the cocky confidence in his voice makes her throat tighten.
She forces herself to look back at him, steady. “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” Jax replies, and there’s something sharper behind the smugness now, almost like a challenge. Then, as quickly as it came, he leans back again, drumming his fingers against the desk like the conversation never happened.
Pomni’s focus drifts, her pencil hovering above the page but not moving. The weight of Jax sitting beside her lingers like static, making it hard to follow Kinger’s voice booming at the front of the room. Her mind starts to blur around the edges—
Until a flicker of movement pulls her back.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Ragatha two rows over, angled just enough toward her desk, and waving subtly. Pomni blinks a few times before turning her head slightly and raising an eyebrow in question.
Ragatha tilts her head and mouths the words slowly, “Are you okay?”
For a moment, Pomni just stares. Her throat feels tight, her pulse loud in her ears. But finally, she manages a small, quick nod.
Ragatha studies her for a beat longer before easing back in her chair, though Pomni doesn’t miss the faint crease of worry in her smile.
With a soft exhale, Pomni turns her gaze forward again. Kinger is already off on one of his rants, hands flailing as he talks at lighting speed about narrative structure and ‘the criminal underuse of symbolism in modern literature.’
Pomni taps her pencil against her notebook, eyes unfocused
This semester is going to be a tiring one.
Chapter 2
Notes:
I forgot to mention this in my last notes but I did age them down as you will see in this chapter. But do not fret! I still made Zooble and Jax the youngest of the group!
Enjoy! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The classroom hums with the low drone of students working in clusters, pens scratching and laptops clicking. Kinger has planted himself at the front, absorbed in one of his chalkboard tangents that’s already veered into a ramble about “narrative layers of perception.” No one’s paying attention.
Pomni sits at the end of her group’s table, notebook open, chewing her pencil as she tries to think up some more ideas for the podcast adaptation. She glances up, eyes darting between her group mates. Gangle is hunched over her laptop, typing hesitantly like every keystroke might explode the machine. Zooble scrolls through their phone, flicking through clips of old Gatsby films with a dry look on their face. Ragatha, ever the optimist, has a set of colored pens out and is drawing doodles around the group’s notes like she’s trying to make the whole process less bleak.
And then there’s Jax.
He’s leaning back in his chair, legs sprawled out under the table, flipping through a battered notebook. The pages are full of dense writing, highlighted passages, and lines connecting quotes to themes. It annoys Pomni how well organized it looks without him even trying.
“Jax,” she says, trying to get his attention.
He doesn't acknowledge her, continuing to flip through his notebook.
“Jax!” she repeats, waving a hand in front of his face.
He doesn’t look up right away. He flicks his pen closed, finally glancing at her with a lazy grin. “Relax, Pomni. I heard you.” He scoots closer to her, their shoulders touching. “Do you need anything?”
Pomni blinks. “Uh… Yeah. Just—need more ideas for the podcast, y’know?
Without ceremony, he slides his notebook over to her. “I already picked passages we can build around. Gatsby’s intro, Nick’s perspective… It’s all in there. Go wild.”
Zooble leans over, glancing at the notes, then shrugs. “That looks surprisingly good.”
Jax lets out an exaggerated huff. "Surprisingly? You wound me Zoobie.”
They give him a deadpan stare before going back to their phone.
Ragatha turns her head toward Zooble, eyes narrowed. “Stop complementing him, it'll only boost his ego more.”
Jax smirks, resting his chin in his hand, which ends up just leaning him in closer to Pomni. “It’s so funny how someone complimenting my work bothers you more than it should.”
She scoffs, offended. “It doesn't bother me.”
“Sure it doesn't,” he mumbles, turning to look at Pomni expectantly. “Does she look bothered to you?”
Pomni turns to face him, their faces inches apart. She feels heat creep up her face. “Uh…”
And that's when Ragatha slams her pen down, the sharp sound making Gangle flinch. “What bothers me is that you refuse to act like a part of this group. You're always doing your own thing without coming to consult with us about it first.”
Pomni’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the venom in Ragatha’s voice.
“Relax, doll face,” Jax drawls, moving away from Pomni an inch to look at Ragatha better. “You’ll still get the grade whether I'm doing things with the group or not. Isn’t that what you care about?”
Zooble, still scrolling, doesn’t even look up. “Drama aside, the notes are solid. Let’s just use them and move on.”
Gangle mutters, “Yeah, it's good work… I mean, it’s useful—”
“See? Someone appreciates me,” Jax cuts in, flashing a grin and throwing an arm around Gangle's shoulders that makes her shrink back.
Zooble’s eyes immediately snap up to glare at him. “Leave her alone, Jax.”
Jax shrugs, pulling his arm away and putting his hands up in mock surrender. “All of you are no fun,” he sighs, pouting mockingly.
Ragatha exhales sharply through her nose, shoulders stiff. “Don’t mistake usefulness for likability, Jax. No one here likes you,” she says, continuing where their argument left off before Zooble cut in.
Jax leans back, crossing his arms on his chest, his smile widens but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes. “That’s the beauty of it, Ragatha. I don’t need you to like me. I don't need anybody to like me for that matter. Just that we get the work done and move on with our lives.”
Pomni, caught between them, looks at Ragatha’s furious expression, then at Jax’s face that has lost its signature grin, and then looks back down at his notebook. She frowns, flipping through it. The notes are solid. Organized. Clever, even annotated with things like ‘use this ironically’ or ‘dialogue potential.’ It’s exactly the kind of thing she needed.
Finally, she slides his notebook closer to her own. “Alright,” she begins to say, breaking the tension Ragatha and Jax have created between them. “Show me what else you’ve got.”
Jax’s grin returns to his face, going back to where he originally was next to Pomni.
And that's how the rest of the class continues, Zooble comparing notes from film adaptations, Gangle quietly pulling up references, Ragatha sketching potential layouts for their final presentation, and Jax giving Pomni all the references and ideas anyone could dream of.
It’s messy. It’s tense. But somehow, they get the work done.
Once the clock hits 12:30, there's the shuffle of chairs and zippers. Students file out in clumps, voices carrying down the hall.
Pomni gathers her things carefully, handing Jax’s notebook back over to him. “Thanks, that really helped.”
He takes it from her with a little flourish. “It's no problem. We're in this together, right?”
Before she can think of a reply, Ragatha swoops in, her smile stretched tight, eyes fixed on Pomni rather than Jax. “Hey—Pomni, do you want to study with us? Zooble, Gangle, and I are planning on going to the library.”
Pomni blinks, clutching her bag strap. “Oh—sure, that sounds good.”
Jax folds his arms on the desk, resting his head there as he looks up at the both of them. “Aw, how sweet. A study date without me?”
Ragatha’s smile sharpens, but she doesn’t look at him. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and gestures toward the door for Pomni to walk with her.
Pomni hesitates, glancing between them. Jax’s eyes are on her now, as if waiting to see what she’s going to do.
Zooble saunters past, earbuds already in. “Gangle and I will meet you guys there,” they mumble.
Gangle scurries after them, clutching her folder and laptop close to her chest. “Yeah, meet you guys there!”
Ragatha stays standing next to Pomni, waiting for her response. She still hasn’t acknowledged Jax once.
“Go on ahead. I'll meet you guys there,” Pomni ends up saying.
Surprise flickers across Ragatha's face before nodding. “Oh… Yeah, sure. Don't take too long!” A quick, strained smile appears on her lips before she turns around and walks out of the classroom, no doubt running to catch up with Zooble and Gangle.
Pomni glances down at Jax, who’s still slouched in his seat. “Do you want to come with?” she asks.
His eyebrows lift in brief surprise before settling again. He tilts his head toward her, studying her face with mild amusement. “Nah, go on without me.”
Pomni frowns. “Why not? Is it because of Ragatha?”
“No,” Jax says flatly, sitting up just enough to start shoving his notebook and pens into his backpack. “It’s because they didn’t invite me, Pomni.” He gives a pointed shrug. “You go on. I’ve got another class in thirty minutes anyway.”
Something about the way he brushes it off doesn't sit right with her. She steps forward quickly, planting herself in front of him just as he gets to his feet, blocking the way to the door. “We can study together later. I need that notebook of yours anyway.”
Jax pauses, staring down at her from his full height. His brow arched, lips tugging into a smirk. “I can just give it to you now.”
“No, because…” She scrambles for an excuse before blurting, “Because your handwriting’s horrible, and I’ll need you to help me read it.” Her chin lifts a little, defiant.
Jax blinks at her before breaking into a soft laugh. “Seriously? Now you’re just being mean.”
Pomni’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that, I—”
“I’m kidding,” he cuts in, chuckling under his breath. “Calm down.” His tongue flicks briefly against the silver glint of his lip piercings as he considers her, a small, distracted bite at the metal.
Pomni catches herself staring at the miniscule motion, warmth crawling up her neck. She snaps her gaze back up only when he speaks again.
“Fine. Are you free at five?” His voice is casual as he asks, brow raised in question.
She hesitates, then nods. “Five? Oh—yeah, I’m free then.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.” He slings his bag over his shoulder, gesturing for her to move. “You can let me through now.”
Pomni quickly sidesteps, laughing nervously. “Sorry. See you at five.”
Jax raises a lazy hand in farewell, not looking back as he strolls toward the door. “See you at five.”
The classroom door clicks shut behind him, leaving Pomni standing in the quiet, heart thudding harder than she’d like to admit.
It isn't until she sees a flicker of movement at the corner of her vision that Pomni turns her head, expecting maybe another student.
Instead, Kinger is standing right beside her, also staring intently at the door.
She yelps and jolts back an inch, nearly tripping over her own chair. Kinger mirrors her instinctively, hopping backward with wide eyes. The two of them freeze, gawking at one another like deer caught in headlights.
Kinger presses a hand dramatically to his chest. “Oh, Pomni, you scared me!”
Pomni’s mouth drops open. “I—you scared me!”
His eyes widen even more before bursting into a hearty laugh that shakes his whole frame. “Then I suppose we both scared each other!”
Despite herself, Pomni cracks a laugh too, rubbing a hand down her face with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess we did.”
The laughter fades into a quieter moment. She glances up at the clock on the wall and groans inwardly, suddenly remembering that she has to meet Ragatha, Zooble, and Gangle at the library.
“Well, I have to get going… I’ll see you on Monday, professor,” she says, shuffling toward the door.
Her hand is just brushing the cold metal of the handle when his voice stops her.
“Just Kinger.”
Pomni turns sharply, blinking. “Excuse me?”
He’s smiling at her, but it isn't the goofy, startled smile from a moment ago. This one is softer. “Just call me Kinger, dear. No need for all those formalities.”
Pomni hesitates, then smiles back. “Oh. Well—see you on Monday, Kinger.”
“See you on Monday, Pomni,” he replies warmly, lifting a hand to wave goodbye.
She waves in return, then slips out through the door and heads down the hall toward the library.
—
“So for the podcast,” Pomni begins, tapping her pencil against her open notebook, “I was thinking instead of us just talking about The Great Gatsby, we each take a character and play it out as if the characters are on the podcast. Do you understand what I mean?”
Across from her, Jax chews absentmindedly on the end of his pen. For a moment, he looks like he hasn’t been listening at all—but then his eyes light up. He points the pen in her direction, leaning forward.
“So, like… I’m Gatsby, you’re Daisy, and we’re sitting on this podcast talking like we’re actually them?”
Pomni nods quickly, her excitement bubbling up. “Yes! Exactly like that. I already assigned everyone their character.”
She’d spent the last half hour copying almost every single note from Jax’s messy notebook into her own, while Jax had done absolutely nothing but lounge back in his chair and talk to her the whole time. Still, once she’d finished, she started telling him all the ideas she has for the podcast they're planning on doing.
“So as you said, you’d get Gatsby, and I would get Daisy,” Pomni explains, then pauses when she notices the grin spreading across Jax’s face. “Okay, you don’t have to get all smug about it just because you guessed right.”
Jax lifts his hands in mock innocence, smirk never faltering. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to,” Pomni shoots back, rolling her eyes, though the playful curve of her lips betrays her.
“…Continue,” Jax drawls, resting his chin in his palm, watching her like she’s the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.
Pomni tries to ignore the weight of his gaze and refocuses on her notebook. “Right. So, we would get those two. Zooble would be Nick, Gangle would get Jordan, and then Ragatha would get Tom. We would also—”
Jax snorts, making Pomni stop and give him a pointed look.
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing,” Jax says, though the twitch of his mouth gives him away. He taps his pen against the paper where Pomni had written ‘Ragatha: Tom Buchanan.’ “It’s just—Ragatha isn't going to like playing Tom. At all.”
Pomni tilts her head, puzzled. “Why not?”
“Because she’s way too ‘nice’ to play that role.” Jax makes a vague, mocking gesture with his hand. “And because—” He stops mid-sentence, face twisting into something Pomni couldn’t quite read before he smooths it back over with his usual grin. “She just isn’t going to agree with it, that’s all.”
Pomni frowns, waiting for him to elaborate. But Jax only shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Not that I care, she's just going to give you a hard time about it. Then the arguments start, and then no one's going to be happy which eventually leads to us never finishing this project on time… Which is what she wants by the way, finishing on time.”
Pomni thinks, looking down at her notebook hard. She doesn't want to switch anything around, she already had a hard time coming up with the things they're going to talk about, the dialogue, and who is going to be playing who. Switching everything around will be such a drag.
She plays with the rings on her fingers, sighing. “I'll just talk to her about it. If she doesn't want it I'll just… Switch things around. Make her play Daisy so I can be—”
The crack of Jax’s pen hitting the table makes Pomni jump. The sharp sound echoes across the library, and a few nearby students whip their heads toward them, glaring. Pomni shrinks into her chair, offering a sheepish smile and a hurried wave of apology to the room before turning back to Jax.
Jax’s jaw tightens as he leans forward, his voice low but firm. “No.”
“…No?” she repeats cautiously, blinking at him, confusion knitting her brows.
“I don’t want her to play Daisy,” he snaps, then groans in frustration, raking a hand through his messy hair. His usual smirk is gone, replaced with something raw—impatience, almost desperation, though Pomni can’t place why. “Who even cares what Ragatha thinks? Just make her play Tom and that’s final. If she doesn’t like it, that’s her problem. You already spent forever writing all this out—why should you have to redo everything just because she’s picky?”
Pomni sits frozen for a moment, staring at him. The force behind his words rattled her. She glances down at her open notebook, the neatly written roles staring back at her.
“I—” She falters,
On one hand, Jax is right. But on the other hand… She wants everyone to be comfortable while doing this project. The thought of Ragatha sitting around miserable and uncomfortable gnaws at her.
Her pencil hovers over the page before she reluctantly scrawls a faint question mark next to ‘Ragatha: Tom Buchanan.’ “I’ll… talk to her about it,” she mutters, though her voice lacks conviction.
Across from her, Jax scoffs, the sound sharp and dismissive. He slouches back into his chair, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, refusing to look at her.
“Whatever,” he mutters.
Pomni bites the inside of her cheek, glancing sideways at him. His reaction lingers in the air like a storm cloud, and for the first time she wonders if this was really about Ragatha at all.
—
They're all caught up on the homework for the project so they're basically doing nothing in Kinger’s English class.
The only reason none of them have left yet is because Kinger hates when his students leave early. Oh, and because he sometimes forgets to put in their attendance so they have to stay the whole class period to make sure he does.
Zooble sits slouched in their chair, lazily watching Gangle sketch in her notebook. A faint, almost secretive smile plays on their lips whenever Gangle tilts her head in concentration, eraser smudges decorating her fingers.
Ragatha is doing homework for one of her other classes, she had said something about… microbiology? Pomni doesn't know and doesn't even want to know.
Pomni on the other hand… Has been bothered by Jax basically the whole class period.
For every few lines he writes for his own homework, he’d lean over to poke at her shoulder, tug playfully—and gently—at the strands of hair framing her face, start talking nonsense, or just start doodling on her notebook that she has opened.
It's been a few days since their conversation in the library and they haven't talked about it. Whenever Pomni brings it up, Jax merely deflects by doing something annoying.
He's just about done writing another sentence for a question when a pair of talking boys a row behind them pull at his attention.
He turns slightly, looking discreetly over his shoulder. “Do you hear what they're talking about?” He directs the question to Pomni.
Pomni blinks up from her work, following his gaze and tilting her head to listen.
She definitely doesn't notice how their faces are inches apart again.
“… Yeah,” she murmurs after a moment. “They're talking about a… Halloween party?”
“Who? Wait…” Jax turns his head just enough to catch more of the conversation. His grin widens. “Those two frat guys everyone likes? No way! They host the best parties.”
By the time he looks back at Pomni, his whole expression is lit up with mischief. “Let’s go.”
Pomni instantly leans back, shaking her head so fast her hair swishes. “No. No way!”
“No way what?” Zooble’s dry voice cuts in. They lift their head from watching Gangle, brow quirked at the two of them.
“Apparently these two frat guys are hosting a Halloween party this year and they're the best blah blah blah.” He smirks at Zooble, leaning across his desk to give them a look. “They might have alcohol…”
They narrow their eyes at Jax and, after a pause, they huff out a laugh through their nose. “Me and Gangle are going.”
“Going where?” Gangle asks distractedly, still sketching, though she raises an eyebrow.
“A Halloween party,” Zooble replies, softer this time. Then, turning toward her with an unusual gentleness, “Don’t worry, I’ll stick with you the whole time.”
Pomni gives Zooble an incredulous look. "Free alcohol convinced you? Really?”
Zooble and Jax exchange some type of glance before Jax leans in closer to Pomni, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispers, voice low enough to make her shiver, "We aren't actually old enough to consume alcohol legally.”
Pomni freezes, eyes going wide as Jax leans back with a shit-eating grin. “…What?”
“Me and Zoobie over here,” Jax says, jerking his thumb toward Zooble, “aren’t exactly twenty-one.”
Pomni’s brows furrow. "You're not? Then how… Are you guys even in this class?”
Jax taps at the side of his temple repeatedly. "Can you guess?”
Her eyes flick to where Zooble is sitting. They shrug at Pomni, a slight smirk on their face. “Ever wonder why his ego is so big? This is why.”
Pomni groans, dragging her hands down her face. She sits there for a beat, trying to process this information—until it hits her all at once. She snaps her hands down, staring at them with wide eyes.
“Wait. Then how old are you guys?”
“Hey, Zooble, what's the number after eighteen?” Jax asks them nonchalantly, grin never leaving his face.
Zooble doesn't get the chance to answer because Pomni blurts out, “You guys are nineteen?!”
Jax holds his palms out in front of Pomni in a mock-calming gesture, leaning close with a grin. “Shhh… you’ll blow our cover. Then we won’t get free alcohol,” he whispers, pouting exaggeratedly.
Pomni blinks at him, still reeling. “I just… I can’t believe it. I really thought you guys were twenty-one.”
“You saying we look old?” Zooble teases, their voice dry but with a small chuckle slipping through. The sound makes Gangle glance up from her sketchbook, giggling softly as if she’d been listening the whole time.
Jax presses a hand dramatically to his chest. “Harsh, Pomni. Harsh.”
“She’s not being harsh, she’s just telling it how it is,” Ragatha cuts in, her brows knit together in a firm frown. Then, realizing how blunt she sounded, shoots Zooble an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Zooble.”
Zooble waves it off with a smirk. “No offense taken.”
“Aw, no apologies for me? This is so sad,” Jax mock-groans, resting his chin in both hands and batting his lashes at Ragatha with exaggerated heartbreak.
Ragatha lets out a sharp breath through her nose, clearly unimpressed. “Fine. I’m sorry, Jax.”
Jax’s grin falters into silence. He leans back in his chair, looking away. The sudden lack of banter makes the air at the table feel heavier, thick with the kind of silence that Pomni never knows how to deal with.
Her fingers fidget with the corner of her notebook before she blurts, “If all of you are going to the Halloween party, then I guess… I’ll go too?”
Jax perks up instantly. In one smooth movement, he slings an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close until his cheek nearly brushes hers. “That’s the spirit!”
Pomni stiffens at the closeness, warmth creeping up her neck, but before she can react, Ragatha’s voice cuts in. “If Pomni’s going, then I guess I’ll go too. The more the merrier, right?” She looks around the table, trying to sound casual, though her pencil still taps nervously against her notebook.
Zooble gives a small nod. “The more the merrier.”
But Pomni doesn’t miss it—the sharp flicker in Jax’s expression, the subtle twitch of his eye when Ragatha declares she’ll join them too. He masks it quickly with another grin, but for just a second, Pomni swears she sees his jaw tighten.
Notes:
Every college au has to have that one Halloween party everyone goes to. It's cliche, but so iconic! How could I not go without it?
Chapter 3
Notes:
Made this chapter a bit longer since apparently people are liking this silly little fic.
Enjoy the Halloween party! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Aww, you look so cute!” Ragatha coos from where she’s sprawled on her bed, legs swinging idly as she watches.
Pomni spins toward the mirror, tugging at the sleeves of her costume with a grimace. “I look ridiculous,” she mutters, lips curving into a stubborn pout.
“You’re like a…” Ragatha pauses, squinting as if searching for the right word, then blurts out, “A sexy jester!”
Pomni’s nose wrinkles instantly. “I wouldn’t call what I’m currently wearing sexy…”
Ragatha’s shoulders sink, her smug grin faltering into something sheepish. “… Yeah, you’re right.” She tips her head to the side, studying Pomni with narrowed eyes. Then her expression brightens. “Try it with the hat.”
“Okay…” Pomni sighs, crouching to grab the jester hat by her feet. She struggles with it for a moment, fighting with her hair as it snags under the brim. Finally, with a huff, she shoves it into place. “There. I look even more ridiculous!” she declares, throwing her arms up dramatically.
Ragatha bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach as her giggles fill the room. “No! No, you look adorable. Keep it on.”
Pomni glares at her reflection. “How come I look ridiculous and you look fine?! This is so unfair.” She plops down next to Ragatha on the bed, grumbling as she pulls on the yellow leg warmers that came with the costume.
“That’s because we chose these costumes,” Ragatha says with a self-satisfied smirk. “You picked that one yourself, remember?”
And she’s right. They had stood in the store for nearly an hour going back and forth.
Ragatha had settled on a cute ragdoll costume. She’d taped a button over her eyepatch and carefully drawn little stitch lines around her wrists, neck, knees, and ankles with eyeliner. The outfit came with a patched purple dress, a matching bow, and even a red wig, though Ragatha chose against wearing it since her hair is already red.
Pomni, on the other hand, had gone for a jester costume. Now, staring at herself, she wonders why. The red-and-blue bodysuit has odd yellow accents, the sleeves puff strangely at the shoulders, and the shorts ride up uncomfortably. Since it didn’t come with shoes, she’d gone back to buy a matching pair of red-and-blue sneakers. She’d even tried to copy the makeup from the costume’s packaging: a full coat of white paint over her face with bright red circles on her cheeks.
She finishes lacing her sneakers when Ragatha speaks up. “So… who’s taking us to the party, anyway?”
“Oh! Zooble and Gangle are picking us up,” Pomni says as she stands, giving the mirror one last wary glance before turning. “I told Jax to meet us outside.”
“What? Outside… of this building?” Ragatha blinks at her.
Pomni arches a brow, snatching her phone and keys off the nightstand. “Yeah..? Zooble said they’re not driving to two places. You should’ve heard them.” She chuckles, mimicking Zooble’s flat tone. “‘Why would I drive to two places at once? Have you seen the gas prices?’” She slips her hands down her costume, searching for pockets, and sighs when she finds none.
Resigned, she grabs her jacket from the chair and shrugs it on. “So I just told Jax to meet us outside.”
She’s halfway to the door before she notices Ragatha hasn’t moved. “Is everything okay?” Pomni asks, hand on the doorknob.
Ragatha startles, looking like she’d been caught in a daze. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine,” she says a little too quickly, scrambling off the bed. She grabs her keys and follows Pomni out, locking the door behind them.
Pomni eyes her curiously but lets it slide. “Aren’t you going to bring a jacket?”
They fall into step down the hallway, Ragatha shaking her head. “Huh? Oh—no, I don’t get cold easily.”
Pomni groans, shoving her phone and keys into her jacket pockets. “Lucky…”
“Why, you get cold easily?” Ragatha teases, her voice lighter now as she chuckles under her breath.
“Yeah. It’s annoying,” Pomni grumbles, pulling the front door open for her. She lingers just long enough to let Ragatha step outside first, then follows after her.
And then, lo and behold, Jax is outside scrolling lazily through his phone.
“What are you supposed to be?” Pomni blurts, her voice caught between genuine curiosity and barely-suppressed laughter.
Jax slowly lifts his head, his purple ears wobbling a little as he turns to face them. He opens his mouth to speak, but then his eyes flick over Pomni’s costume, trailing deliberately from her hat down to her awkwardly bright leg warmers, before locking on her painted cheeks. His lips twitch as though he’s fighting back a grin.
“Well, for your information, I—” He cuts himself off, clears his throat, and finally says, “…I’m supposed to be a rabbit.”
Pomni squints at him. She doesn’t know if it’s the chill in the air or if her eyes are playing tricks, but she swears she sees a faint red coloring high on Jax’s tan cheekbones.
“Then why are your bunny ears purple?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
Jax exhales sharply through his nose, sounding almost offended. “Rabbit. Not a bunny, Pomni. Big difference. And the ears are purple because I wanted to be original.”
Pomni crosses her arms, eyeing the outfit. “Yeah… very original indeed.”
The floppy purple ears look like they came straight out of a dollar bin, and they clash horribly with his oversized purple sweatshirt. Over that, he’s wearing bright pink overalls, their straps a little too loose, as though they might slip off at any moment. To finish it off, yellow gloves stretch awkwardly over his hands, though Pomni can't judge him too hard on that since the gloves she has on aren't even matching in color.
“I think you look absolutely ridiculous,” Ragatha says flatly as she steps up beside Pomni, folding her arms.
Jax shoves his phone into his overall pocket with a scoff. “I could say the same about you, Rags.” His grin sharpens. “Hey, how convenient it is that my amazing nickname fits you.”
Ragatha narrows her eyes at him, her voice low. "Doll face?”
Jax shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly. "Bingo.”
Pomni, caught awkwardly between the two of them, laughs nervously and wrings her hands together. “So, um… Do you guys think the party will be fun?”
“I’m sure it will be, Pom—” Ragatha begins, but Jax cuts her off smoothly.
“Yeah, if you don’t stick to Ragatha the whole time. She’s a real Debbie Downer sometimes.” He turns, just enough to catch Pomni’s eye, and smiles at her cheekily.
Ragatha gasps, her frown snapping into determination. “How could you! I can be fun. You’ll see—Pomni is going to have so much fun with me at her side.”
Jax pouts dramatically, his lower lip sticking out. “Aww, then who’s going to hang out with me all night?”
Pomni tilts her head, genuinely curious. “Don’t you have any other friends you can hang out with?”
But before Jax can even open his mouth, Ragatha says bluntly, “Not anymore.”
The words hit heavier than she means them to. Jax’s grin falters instantly, wiped clean off his face, leaving only a hollow blankness. He stares at Ragatha in silence, eyes darker than Pomni has ever seen them.
Ragatha freezes. The realization of what she’s just said dawns on her face. “Oh, wait—no, I didn’t—uh, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant—” She stumbles over her words as she fails to come up with an excuse. She looks around wildly, and then her gaze snags on a pair of headlights approaching. She points far too quickly down the road. “Hey, it’s Zooble and Gangle!”
Pomni doesn’t even turn her head. The approaching car is obvious enough from the rumbling engine, but her eyes are fixed on Jax, who hasn’t moved. He’s just staring at the ground, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders pulled tight.
“Jax, are you—”
His head jerks up abruptly. He forces a smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, hey, look. Zooble and Gangle are here.” His voice is too light, too practiced.
Pomni sighs, her chest aching with a quiet unease. Ragatha rushes to the car, pulling the door open with a quick, nervous laugh, and climbs in without another word.
Jax takes a step toward the car, but Pomni reaches out instinctively, her hand closing around his wrist.
“Jax,” she says softly.
He stops. Turns. And looks at her.
Really looks at her.
For a second, Pomni swears the world goes still.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, voice low, before yanking his wrist free and climbing into the car.
Pomni stands outside for a long minute, so much so that Gangle rolls her window down and asks, "Hey, Pomni, you feeling alright? It’s okay if you aren't, we won't push you to come with us.”
Pomni blinks out of her daze, shaking her head and forcing a smile. “No, I'm coming. I’m coming.”
She gets in the car, sits down, and realizes that it's kind of cramped in the back seat. Her shoulder is touching Jax’s arm and their thighs are pressing in together.
She groans internally before pulling the door shut.
—
“Holy shit. They are so going to bully us when we get inside."
And yeah, Zooble’s right.
There's this saying among older teens and young adults that Halloween is the only time of the year where you're allowed to dress a certain type of way and no one will judge you for it.
And none of them followed this rule.
After getting out of the car Pomni took a good look at both Zooble and Gangle’s costumes.
Pomni doesn't even know what Zooble has got going on with their costume. It looks like they lost a fight with a clearance rack. They have a unicorn horn head hand that's sitting crookedly on their head, mismatched wings sprouting from either shoulder—one fairy, one dragon. One leg warmer hot pink, the other electric blue. A pair of very short bright orange shorts, and a striped rainbow sweatshirt that clashes with the entire thing terribly.
Gangle on the other hand has her signature goth makeup on, but with a little twist. She has painted on two big tear drops at either corners of her eyes. For her clothes, she has a plain black dress on with multiple red ribbons hanging from her frame and a massive red bow clipped into her hair. And in her hand she has a comedy mask. Pomni thinks it's kinda cute.
To be completely honest, the five of them look utterly ridiculous.
“So what if they bully us?” Jax throws both arms up dramatically, nearly knocking Pomni in the face with his yellow-gloved hand. “Free alcohol!”
Zooble stares at him flatly. “You’re the only one who should be worried. You’re the least sexy looking out of all of us.”
“Hey!” Jax whines, lips pushing into a pout. “I look pretty damn sexy myself.”
“If you count that as being sexy then the rest of us might as well be damn naked,” Zooble drawls, gesturing to the three girls next to them.
“Honestly, I think the closest to being sexy are Zooble and Pomni,” Ragtha says, hands on her hips.
Pomni sighs, tugging at her ugly jester hat. “If you think what I'm wearing is sexy then we're all doomed.”
Jax groans theatrically, stomping a foot against the sidewalk. “Ugh! Enough chit-chatting! Let’s just go inside already.” A sly grin forms. “Though I vote Ragatha goes in first.”
The entire group groans at him in unison before pushing through the door together.
The second they step inside, Pomni already feels like she’s suffocating. “Crowded” doesn’t even begin to cover it. The air is hot and heavy with sweat, perfume, beer, and something faintly burning in the kitchen.
Every corner of the house is packed. The couches are covered in couples making out. The living room is filled with bodies grinding against each other in an uncoordinated mass. The staircase is occupied—friends comforting each other, strangers kissing, and one person sobbing loudly into a half-empty vodka bottle. Somehow, in all the chaos, there’s still enough room for a beer pong table in the corner.
It’s absolutely insane.
“I want to leave,” Gangle mutters instantly, already pivoting on her heel.
Zooble catches her arm before she can bolt and gently steers her toward a quieter alcove near the wall. They lean close, whispering something in her ear that Pomni can’t quite make out.
“Alright, see you guys around,” Jax says flatly from beside Pomni, waving a lazy hand her and Ragtha's way as he makes his way toward the kitchen.
Pomni frowns but doesn't stop him.
“So…” Ragatha starts awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “What do you wanna do, Pomni?”
Pomni shrugs, eyes darting around the chaotic room. “I… honestly thought we’d stick together the whole time. I didn’t think we’d separate this early.”
Ragatha laughs loudly, suddenly, and it makes Pomni jump, heart hammering.
“Let’s go over here,” Ragatha says once she calms down, wrapping her hand around Pomni’s wrist and tugging her toward the beer pong table.
They don’t really do anything once they get there. They just stand off to the side, somehow acquiring red solo cups filled with cheap beer, and watching two frat guys toss ping pong balls into half-full cups for twenty minutes straight.
Pomni stares at her untouched drink, debating whether it’s even safe, before finally setting it down on a table nearby.
She swallows once, then again, nerves prickling at her chest.
“Hey, Ragatha?” she asks carefully.
Ragatha hums, her gaze still following the arc of a ping pong ball through the air. “Yeah?”
“Why…” Pomni hesitates, frowning.
She can’t tell if this is going to end with Ragatha explaining herself—or an argument blowing up in her face.
Well. Time to find out.
“What’s up with you and Jax?” Pomni blurts, turning fully to face her.
Ragatha’s shoulders tense immediately, her jaw locking tight. Slowly, she tilts her head toward Pomni, her expression carefully neutral.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Pomni lowers her voice, biting her lip. “The way you two argue with each other. It… Honestly isn't normal.”
She slides her untouched cup farther across the table, not even pretending anymore.
Ragatha doesn’t answer right away. She just stares at the game, eye unfocused, her fingers tightening around her drink until the plastic crinkles.
“You don’t get it,” she finally says, her voice quieter than Pomni expected.
Pomni tilts her head. “Then explain it to me.”
For a long moment, Ragatha doesn’t respond. Her eye is fixed on the beer pong table, but Pomni can tell she isn’t watching the game.
“Jax and I…” Ragatha exhales, a sharp, frustrated sound. “We used to be friends. Really good friends. He wasn’t always this—” she gestures vaguely, searching for the word. “—jerk. We used to hang out all the time. Worked on stuff together. Laughed. Y’know actually liked each other.”
Pomni blinks, genuinely surprised. “Wait, you guys were friends?”
Ragatha nods stiffly, not looking at her. “Yeah. Believe it or not.”
Pomni swallows. “So… what happened?” she asks gently.
Ragatha makes this desperate, choked sound in the back of her throat before setting her red solo cup down a little too hard on the nearest table. She shrugs, helpless.
“I don’t know! It just happened one day—we were fine—” Her voice cracks on the word. She exhales sharply, shoulders collapsing inward. “We were fine, Pomni.”
Pomni doesn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze drifts back to the two guys at the beer pong table, their laughter loud and easy.
After a long pause, she finally murmurs, “Can you recall what you think could’ve been the reason for him to stop being friends with you?”
Ragatha hugs her arms around herself. “I think… it was last semester. Before the summer started.” She stares down at her shiny Mary Jane shoes, voice barely audible under the music. “I don’t know what led to the conversation but… I was talking about what I was going to do after I graduate. I said I was going to visit my dad in Haiti. Maybe stay for a year or two, take a small break before taking the NCLEX-RN exam to finally become a pediatric nurse.”
Her voice wavers, and then drops flat. “And he just… flipped out. I don’t… I don’t know why.” Her arms fall to her sides, her hands opening and closing uselessly.
Pomni listens quietly, her brows knitting together. She reaches out, placing a hand on Ragatha’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it makes Ragatha’s lip tremble just slightly.
“I tried talking to him over the summer, but he just pushed me away and started being so mean,” Ragatha continues with a weary sigh. “And because I was hurt, I started… retaliating. Snapping back. Saying things I shouldn’t have.”
Pomni presses her lips into a thin line. “Do you know why he did that?”
Ragatha shakes her head slowly, eyes distant. “Honestly? No.”
There’s a beat, filled with the muffled bass of the party, laughter, the sound of someone spilling a drink.
Pomni swallows. “Do you think you’ll ever be friends with him again?”
Ragatha pauses. The silence between them stretches long before she finally answers, voice low and tired. “Friends? No. Cordial with each other? Maybe. We’ve said some nasty stuff to each other. I don’t even think he’d want to be friends with me either.”
Pomni looks at her, an uneasy pit forming in her stomach. She opens her mouth to respond—
But is suddenly cut off by a voice a few feet away.
“Rose! Long time no see!” a girl calls out, waving her hand in Ragatha’s direction.
Ragatha turns sharply at the name, brows furrowed at first. But when she recognizes who it is, her whole face softens.
“That’s one of my friends I met in my first year here,” she explains quickly, her voice gentler now, almost apologetic. She hesitates before asking, “Is it… Okay if I—?”
“Yeah, go ahead!” Pomni cuts her off with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just—” her mind finishes the thought for her, gonna go find Jax. But out loud, she says instead, “—heading to the kitchen. I wanted some water anyway.”
Ragatha nods, relief flickering across her features before she hurries off to greet her friend.
Pomni lingers a moment, the noise of the party rushing back in around her. She clenches and unclenches her fist as she takes a breath.
And then, without really thinking about it, she turns and starts making her way toward the kitchen.
The kitchen is a little quieter than the living room, though not by much. The counters are cluttered with bottles of vodka, mixers, and half-empty bags of chips. Someone’s phone is plugged into a speaker on the counter, cycling through a playlist of throwback party songs.
Pomni slips inside and grabs a plastic cup from the stack near the sink, filling it with water from the tap. She takes a sip, letting the coolness soothe her.
“Ah, so we meet again, Pompom.”
She jumps slightly at the voice. Turning, she sees Jax leaning against the doorframe, his usual sly grin plastered across his face.
“Jeez, you scared me,” she mutters, lowering the cup.
“Scaring people is one of my many talents,” Jax says, stepping in and brushing a few chip crumbs off the counter with the back of his hand before hopping up to sit on it. “What, party life too overwhelming for you?”
Pomni rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Just needed some air. And water.”
“Responsible Pomni, keeping hydrated,” he teases, crossing one leg over the other. “Meanwhile, Zooble’s probably on their fourth shot and Gangle’s already giggling at the wallpaper.”
Pomni chuckles softly at that, shaking her head. For a few minutes, their conversation drifts easily. Jax tells her a dumb story about a frat guy trying to get with a girl earlier and failing miserably, Pomni counters with telling him how she stood and watched two guys play beer pong for twenty minutes straight. The tension from earlier almost feels like it’s melting.
But then Jax’s expression changes.
It happens mid-laugh—his voice cuts off, his body going rigid. His eyes lock on something past Pomni, toward the other side of the kitchen where a group of three has just entered.
He swallows hard, his usual smugness gone in an instant. He pushes off the counter abruptly, nearly knocking over a bag of pretzels.
But before he can dash off, he leans in close, his voice low and sharp, “If anyone asks for me, say you don't know me.”
Pomni barely has time to react before he snatches a half-full bottle of vodka off the counter and slips out of the kitchen in record speed.
All Pomni can do is stand there, staring at the swinging doorframe, her cup of water still in her hand. Confusion knots tight in her chest—what just happened?
It isn't until a guy with pastel green hair and a frog hoodie, which Pomni assumes is his costume, walks up to her that she realizes who it is that Jax ran away from.
He smiles sheepishly when he gets in front of her. “Hey,” he starts cautiously. “I think I saw someone I know talking to you just now. His name is Jax, about 6 '2. I think he was wearing bunny ears?”
Pomni’s first instinct is to correct him—they aren't bunny ears, they're rabbit ears, but she holds herself back.
Instead, she shakes her head and says, “Uh, no. I don't know who Jax is. Sorry.”
The guy deflates, genuinely looking sad. “Okay, well, if you see anyone that fits the description could you… I don't know, point him my way?”
“Oh, uhm, yeah sure..!” Pomni trails off, her smile strained. “I'm just gonna…” she points out the kitchen doorway, already backing away from the guy.
“Right. Bye,” the guy mutters, lifting a hand in a stiff wave before going back to his two friends.
Pomni exhales hard and slips into the living room, the music hurting her ears. She's just about to push through the crowd and find Ragatha when a hand clamps firmly around her wrist.
Her heart leaps into her throat, and instinctively she wheels around, ready to snap—or worse, swing—at whoever’s grabbed her.
But then she sees who it is.
“Jax—?” she starts, but he doesn’t answer. He’s leading her up the stairs, weaving through all the people sitting or standing on the steps, all the while still carrying the bottle of vodka in his right gloved hand.
Pomni stumbles after him, confusion only deepening with every step.
Jax doesn’t slow down until they’re halfway up the stairs, his grip on Pomni’s wrist firm but not painful.
The second floor is just as chaotic as the first—music thumping through the walls, laughter spilling out from every direction.
Jax pushes open the first door they reach without hesitation.
Inside: two guys are tangled on a beanbag chair, making out like the world might end tomorrow. Pomni realizes they’re in nothing but their boxers, she quickly looks away.
“Occupied,” one of them says between kisses, not even bothering to look up.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Jax mutters, rolling his eyes as he slams the door shut again.
He tries the next room down the hall. This one bursts open to reveal a circle of students on the floor, passing around a joint and laughing at a horror movie projected against the far wall. Someone yells, “Hey, shut the door, man!”
Jax grits his teeth, eye twitching in irritation. “Great. Just great.”
Pomni is barely keeping up, practically tripping over her own shoes as he keeps pulling her forward. “Jax, what are we even doing?!” she hisses, trying not to draw too much attention in the crowded hallway.
“Finding somewhere quiet,” he shoots back without turning his head.
Pomni blinks, realizing he’s serious—or at least halfway serious—and before she can respond, he’s already pushing open another door.
This time, luck is on their side.
The room is dark except for a lamp glowing in the corner. It’s neat, almost too neat compared to the rest of the house—clothes folded in a hamper, a queen-sized bed with crisp sheets, and a sliding door that leads into a walk-in bathroom.
Jax nudges her inside and shuts the door behind them, twisting the lock with a click. He finally lets go of her wrist, dragging in a breath like he’s been holding it since the kitchen.
Pomni rubs her hand where he’d been holding her, watching as he crosses the room in three long strides. He shoves the vodka bottle onto the nightstand, then pulls the bathroom door open.
The light flickers on, revealing a tiled room with a wide tub built into the wall.
“This’ll work,” Jax mutters, almost to himself, before looking back at her. His expression is hard to read—somewhere between relief and irritation.
Pomni lingers near the door, shifting her weight uncomfortably. The pit in her stomach hasn’t gone away.
“Jax…” her voice is soft, careful. “Why are we hiding?”
For once, he doesn’t have a quick, sharp remark ready. He just stares at her for a long moment, jaw tight, before finally looking away. He grabs his vodka bottle and walks into the bathroom.
It isn't long before Pomni follows him, pushing the bathroom door open.
She stops in her tracks
He's sitting inside the tub, his long frame folded lazily into it. His left hand dangles over the tub, the vodka bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. His half-lidded eyes lift up to meet hers, lips parted slightly.
The pit in Pomni’s stomach quickly turns into heat as she stares at him. She swallows hard, frozen at the doorway.
“Aren't you gonna get in?” he asks, his voice rough, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.
She has to shake herself out of it before saying, “What?”
Jax lifts his free hand and pats the side of the tub opposite him, his smirk widening just slightly. “Get in.”
Pomni opens her mouth to say something but the words die in her throat. Instead she steps forward and carefully climbs in, settling across from him.
It’s cramped. Knees brushing, legs overlapping slightly, the air heavy with the faint scent of soap and vodka.
Jax tips the bottle to his mouth, taking a long swallow before setting it on the floor beside the tub. He leans back, head resting against the cool tile, a soft groan slipping past his lips.
And all Pomni can do is stare at the long expanse of his throat as it stretches, the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.
Her cheeks burn, and she quickly drags her gaze away.
“You’re probably wondering who that was,” Jax mumbles after a beat, voice low enough to force her to lean forward just slightly to catch the words.
The question snaps Pomni out of her daze. “Huh? Oh—” she stammers, rubbing both hands over her face before dropping them into her lap. “Yeah… who was that, anyways? He asked for you.”
Jax doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lets out a sharp breath through his nose, eyes flicking toward the far wall. His hand twitches against the tub once before he finally looks back at her, expression carefully blank.
“He’s an ex,” Jax mutters at last, dragging a hand through his hair.
Pomni tilts her head to the side, resting her cheek lightly against her shoulder as she studies him. “What happened? I’ve never seen you react like that before.”
A low chuckle slips from him, humorless but soft. “You barely know me, Pomni.”
“And?” she shoots back without missing a beat, her gaze unwavering. “My statement still stands.”
Jax shrugs, chewing at his lip piercing.
It's infuriating how much that miniscule motion causes Pomni’s knees to go weak, heat crawling stubbornly up her neck to her face. She shifts in the cramped tub, trying to will herself to look anywhere else.
“We were just… toxic together,” Jax admits finally, eyes slipping upward to the ceiling. “There isn’t really all that much to it.”
Pomni hesitates, then lifts a hand, meaning to rest it gently on his knee. But at the very last second she falters, fingers curling into her palm as she lowers it back into her lap. She doesn't know if he'd like that right now.
Then, a question forms on her lips, tumbling out before she can stop it. “Are you—”
“Gay?” he interrupts smoothly, eyes snapping back to her with a sly glint.
The word hangs between them, and Pomni’s breath catches.
“Nah,” Jax drawls, his voice low, deliberate, “I go both ways.” His gaze lingers on her, slow and heavy, almost sultry in its weight.
She hates how it makes her feel.
“And you?” he asks, leaning forward just slightly, curiosity flickering through his expression like he might actually care about the answer.
She shrugs, tugging absently at her mismatched gloves. “Same.”
For a beat, silence stretches between them. Then Jax bursts out laughing—real, full-bodied laughter that shakes his entire frame.
Pomni startles, then finds herself laughing too, the sound spilling out of her before she can stop it. They’re both clutching their stomachs by the end, gasping through their giggles.
“This party’s a total bust,” Jax sighs dramatically, sticking his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “We should’ve gone trick-or-treating or something.”
Pomni beams, wide smile tugging her lips until her cheeks hurt. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”
“But hey—” Jax lifts the bottle from the floor, tilting it toward her like a toast. “At least we’ve got alcohol.”
“You shouldn’t even be drinking that. You’re underage,” Pomni grumbles, rolling her eyes, though her tone is more playful than scolding.
Jax smirks, tipping the bottle back with another long swallow. “What people don’t know won’t kill ’em.” He leans his head back against the tiled wall, eyes slipping half-shut, like he’s perfectly at ease.
Pomni crosses her arms. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Mm.” His voice is low, lazy, almost like a hum. “And yet… here you are.”
Her chest tightens at that, and she quickly looks away. She wants to argue, to throw back some witty retort, but nothing comes.
Instead, she just shakes her head, lips twitching despite herself.
Neither of them say anything else after that. Deciding to just sit in comfortable silence and enjoy each other's company.
Notes:
Bi for bi Funnybunny real!
Also while writing the last scene with Pomni and Jax I was listening to No. 1 Party Anthem and I feel like it really fits the scene.
Chapter 4
Notes:
I'm getting chapters out as fast as possible because I know that if I stop for even just a second I'm not going to finish this and I don't want it to go in my ever growing collection of fics I never finish.
Silly side note that has to do with the characters: I made both Jax and Zooble have mullets (the good looking kinds not the ugly ones) and since people around campus know they argue, but are still somewhat close, they go around and say how Zooble's mullet looks better than Jax's. It's funny how mad he gets whenever someone brings it up.
Also half of this chapter is the group just doing the podcast and arguing/bantering with each other. It's kind of like a filler, the real interesting stuff happens in the next one.
Anyways, enough chit-chatting.
Enjoy the chapter everyone! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Pomni dumps a box of clothes onto Gangle’s neatly made bed, fabric spilling out in a heap of suits, ties, dresses, and other accessories. She turns sharply, one hand planted on her hip, the other still clutching the empty box. Her expression is firm, bordering on stern, as her gaze sweeps across the three people standing in front of her.
“Alright. Everyone’s costumes are here. I’m not in charge of directing this. I just wrote the script. If anyone has an issue, take it up with Gangle. She’s in charge now.”
A tense silence follows, no one moving or speaking… until Jax, standing lazily between Ragatha and Zooble, raises his hand.
Pomni exhales through her nose, shoulders sagging as she puts the empty box down. “Yes, Jax?”
“Gangle is in charge?”
“… Yes. I just said that.”
“And you’re not. Like, at all?”
“… No, I’m not.”
Jax throws his head back with an exaggerated groan, dragging the sound out dramatically. “Great. Just great. I’m about to get Spudsy’s flashbacks all over again.”
“Hey!” Gangle pipes up defensively, lips pushing into a pout that’s more cute than intimidating. “I wasn't all that bad when you were working with me at Spudsy’s.”
Jax narrows his eyes at her. “Sure you weren't.”
She crosses her arms on her chest, glaring back. “What did I do that was so bad, Jax? I was the manager. I was just telling you what to do.”
“Whatever,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. He strides forward, plucking up the white suit, button-up, and red tie from the pile.
Zooble steps up next, wordlessly snagging the brown suit, a white button-up, and black tie before declaring, “Bathroom’s mine,” and sprinting off, shutting the door behind them with a quick slam.
“The four of you are gonna take forever,” Jax complains, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. “I’ll just change out here.”
“What?!” Ragatha squeaks, spinning around and covering her single eye with both hands.
Jax pauses mid-motion, his oversized shirt already hiked halfway up his torso, exposing a strip of toned tan skin. “What?”
“You can’t just say that out of nowhere and then do it!” Ragatha shouts.
“Give us some kind of warning first,” Gangle chimes in, though she’s just staring at him, unfazed.
“But I did warn you,” Jax argues, lips pursed in mock offense.
As their bickering continues, Pomni finds herself caught—her eyes betraying her as they drag down the smooth expanse of Jax’s stomach, the faint lines there illuminated by the harsh dorm light. Heat stirs in her chest, unbidden.
What would it feel like to trace her fingers along his sides? To test the warmth of his skin beneath her touch?
“Pomni.”
How would he react? Would he flinch? Would he react at all?
“Pomni?”
Would he even allow her to touch him at all—
“Pomni!” Jax snaps, louder this time, jolting her back.
Her head jerks up. “Huh—what?” She blinks rapidly, cheeks burning, forcing her eyes up to meet his. “What’s wrong?”
He huffs through his nose, clearly annoyed. “Gangle says I have to change in the bathroom like everyone else, but that’ll take forever. Zooble’s hogging it already, and you just know I’ll end up going last. Can I change out here, please?” He bats his lashes at her dramatically, pushing out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.
Pomni’s heart stutters against her ribs, but she shrugs with forced nonchalance. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Whatever.”
“What?! I’m supposed to be in charge!” Gangle protests, throwing her hands up.
Jax only grins at her and sticks his tongue out.
Gangle makes a ‘seriously?’ face at him. “Oh that's real mature, Jax.”
“Rules change, no need to get agitated,” he continues to annoy her.
Before Gangle can retort, Jax peels his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor. The sudden motion silences the room for a beat—right as Zooble steps out of the bathroom, blinking at the scene.
“… What the hell did I just walk in on?” they ask flatly, arching an eyebrow at Jax’s bare torso.
“Pomni said it was fine for me to change out here,” Jax replies easily, already pulling on the white button-up.
Zooble shrugs, setting their folded clothes neatly on their bed. “Oh. Cool. Honestly saves us time.”
“Why is everyone suddenly okay with this?!” Gangle hisses.
“I’m not!” Ragatha blurts, snatching up her own costume—blue suit, white button-up, sunglasses, and navy tie—before bolting for the bathroom and slamming the door shut.
Pomni sighs, relieved.
She had talked to Ragatha the day before about her role as Tom and she was surprisingly chill about it. Pomni doesn't know if it had anything to do with the conversation they had at the Halloween party or something else entirely but she's glad Ragatha didn't make a fuss about it. It saved her a bunch of time.
Pomni walks up to the bed, grabbing the dress she set aside for herself. A pale, flowing thing with delicate beadwork stitched into the neckline, soft but still elegant. The style is unmistakably 1920s, chosen to match Daisy’s from the 2013 film adaptation.
In her other hand, she gathers the accessories she picked out, a thin pearl necklace, a jeweled headband with a feather pinned off to one side, and a set of earrings.
Beside her, Gangle gingerly picks up her own dress—sleek, dark, and simple in contrast, with a low back and a slender waistline—and a set of accessories which are similar to Pomni's just in a darker color.
“Those look weirdly similar to the ones in the movies,” Jax mumbles from his side of the room.
Pomni glances up to find his eyes fixed squarely on her dress, then on her. There’s something unreadable in his stare. His shirt is only halfway buttoned, collar askew, tie dangling untied around his neck. For once, his smirk is absent. He looks caught between teasing and something heavier.
She quickly turns away, clutching the gown to her chest. “I got them at this old antique shop. They were cheap so they worked well enough for me,” she mutters.
Ragatha finally comes out, sunglasses planted on her face while adjusting her tie and muttering something about “never forgiving” Jax, before Pomni brushes past her to change.
As she's changing she can hear screaming from Ragatha’s end on the other side of the door. Something about how Jax has no modesty at all. It makes her giggle.
She looks in the mirror, biting the inside of her cheek. The gown clings to her in all the right places, catching the light as she moves. The earrings she put on dangle softly against her neck whenever she tilts her head. She tugs at the hem awkwardly, not used to wearing anything remotely close to the dress.
Though the headband does look a bit weird on her dark hair since she isn't blonde like Daisy.
When Pomni finally walks out, Gangle dashes in. She's grumbling something inaudible under her breath, most likely about Jax.
Jax freezes mid-motion when his gaze catches Pomni’s. He has finally put his suit jacket and pants on, but his tie is still untied in his hands. His eyes trail from her headband down to her nervous hands fidgeting at her waist.
Pomni clears her throat. “What? Do I look weird?”
“… No.” Jax’s voice is low, almost serious. “Not at all.”
Zooble, fixing their own tie, steps between them, oblivious. “Alright, can we please hurry this up? The longer we wait, the more Ragatha’s going to complain about her tie choking her.”
“Hey!” Ragatha shoots back, glaring. “This thing’s uncomfortable, okay?”
After Gangle finally emerges from the bathroom in her dress, with Zooble definitely not staring, they settle around the microphones Gangle had set up, clothes rustling and mics crackling as they take their places.
They’re all holding the script Pomni wrote, though it already looks like everyone plans to improvise.
And she thinks to herself, why'd I even write it in the first place?
Right. Because she didn't know them that well a few weeks ago.
“Okay, are we ready to go?” Gangle asks, standing behind the camera positioned in their direction.
All of them confirm they're ready to go, so Gangle presses play and quickly gets in her place beside Zooble.
Zooble reads their script, opens their mouth to read off it, then closes it, opens it again and says, “Shit, I forgot Nick was the narrator. Of course I get stuck with that,” they mutter. “Narrators are always so boring.”
“That’s because you’re boring,” Jax retorts, flashing them a grin before leaning dramatically into his mic. “I am Jay Gatsby. The star of the show.”
“Yeah, star of the show,” Ragatha echoes in a mocking tone. “More like the star of being annoying.”
Pomni exhales nervously, clutching her script. She forces her voice lighter, slipping into character. “And I’m Daisy. Apparently the only reason you guys exist.”
“Wow,” Zooble says flatly, their eyebrows raising in mock surprise. “Good to know our worth.”
Jax chuckles, pointing at Pomni. “Don’t sell yourself short, Daisy. You’re the reason Gatsby throws the best parties.” He smirks. “And I throw really good parties.”
“Yeah, with other people’s money,” Ragatha mutters into her mic.
“That’s called business, Tom,” Jax shoots back smoothly.
“Called theft,” Ragatha corrects through gritted teeth.
Gangle throws her hands up. “Okay, okay, can we stick to the script for, like, five minutes? Please?”
Zooble adjusts their mic. “Sure. Let’s start with me. Hi, I'm Nick Carraway and today I'm with—”
“Booooring,” Jax groans, pretending to snore into his mic.
“Oh my god,” Ragatha grumbles, leaning back in her chair. “We’re never going to get through this.”
Pomni can’t help but laugh, covering her mic with her hand. “You’re supposed to be taking this seriously.”
Jax raises his brows, leaning forward so his face is only inches from hers, voice dropping into a silky drawl. “Daisy, I take you very seriously.”
The table goes quiet for half a beat. Then Zooble cuts in. “Okay, ew. Keep the flirting in character, please.”
“That was in character,” Jax replies innocently, spreading his hands. “What, you think Gatsby wasn’t smooth?”
“He wasn’t smooth,” Gangle argues, tapping her script. “He was awkward and desperate.”
“So basically Jax,” Ragatha says, smirking.
Everyone bursts into laughter, Pomni snorting into her shoulder while Jax glares at Ragatha. “Oh, real funny. Remind me to laugh during Tom’s death scene.”
“Tom doesn’t die, Idiot,” Zooble says, monotone.
Jax shrugs. “Then I’ll improvise.”
“Absolutely not!” Gangle yelps, clutching Pomni’s script like it’s holy.
Pomni, still giggling, tries to steer things back. “Okay, okay—how about we do the scene that happens before Zooble starts asking questions? Gatsby and Daisy meeting again for the first time?”
Jax immediately straightens, slipping back into his over-the-top Gatsby voice. Which doesn't even sound like Gatsby because of how Jax's Columbian accent slips out saying certain words. “It’s been… far too long, Daisy. You’re just as radiant as the first time I saw you.”
Pomni rolls her eyes but softens her voice, playing along. “Oh, Jay, you’re exaggerating.”
“Not at all,” Jax insists, shooting her a look that makes her throat go dry.
Before the moment can stretch too far, Zooble leans into their mic. “Forget it, let me just ask the questions.”
And that's what they do, they rattle off a few of the questions Pomni wrote down on the script, each one directed at a different person's character. Which they all answer right and on time, surprisingly.
And they do well for a solid ten minutes. That is until Zooble says, “So Gatsby invited me to tea. Which is a totally normal thing rich people do—”
“Correction,” Jax interrupts, raising a finger dramatically. “Rich gentlemen do.”
“Rich lunatics,” Ragatha mutters, flipping through her copy of the script. “You buy a mansion, throw endless parties, and stalk your ex through her cousin? Yeah, totally gentlemanly.”
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Jax fires back. He swivels in his chair toward Pomni, voice dropping into a sultry drawl. “Daisy, darling… tell them it worked.”
Pomni fumbles with her script, cheeks heating, but forces herself to stay in character. “Well… I suppose it was rather flattering.” She tries to sound casual, but the corners of her lips betray her with a twitch of a smile.
Ragatha tilts her head, lowering her chin so she can peer over the rim of her sunglasses. The dark lenses sliding down to the very tip of her nose. “Oh my god, she’s actually blushing,” she crows, pointing an accusatory finger across the table at Pomni before pushing the sunglasses back up to the bridge of her nose.
“I am not!” Pomni protests quickly, ducking her head.
Jax smirks, leaning back smugly. “Seems like the lady disagrees, Tom.”
“That’s because you’re cheating,” Ragatha shoots back. “You’re not even acting—you’re just being yourself!”
“And I’m doing a damn good job,” Jax retorts, adjusting his collar. “Face it—I was born to play Gatsby.”
“Born to be insufferable,” Zooble corrects, deadpan, while picking at the black polish on their nails.
Jax waves a hand dismissively, ignoring them. “Anyways, I’m not the one who’s cheating. Your character had an actual affair!”
Ragatha slams both palms onto the table, rattling the microphones. “Yeah, that you killed! So it doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“Correction,” Zooble cuts in, voice flat but sharp. “It was actually Daisy that killed her…”
Jax tilts his head at Ragatha. “Zooble’s right, doll face.”
He doesn't get to see the face Ragatha makes at him because he swivels toward Pomni then, the mood shifting in an instant. He clears his throat theatrically, leans in closer to her, and looks at her with the most exaggerated puppy-dog eyes she’s ever seen. Big, pleading, and definitely ridiculous.
But her pulse stutters. She definitely does not notice how close he is. She definitely does not feel her heart hammering like it’s trying to break out of her chest.
“Why’d you leave me for Tom, Daisy?” Jax whispers, his voice softening into a whine that shouldn’t sound as devastating as it does. His gaze clings to hers, heavy with mock hurt. “You couldn’t have waited just a little longer?”
Pomni’s brain short circuits. Her breath catches sharp in her throat, and she nearly crushes her script in her hands from how tightly she’s gripping it.
“I… Uh…” Her voice comes out in a squeak, utterly useless. “Huh?”
Zooble groans loudly, dragging a hand down their face in exasperation. “I can’t do this. This whole podcast is just going to be Jax flirting for an hour.”
“Tell me about it,” Ragatha mutters, glaring. “And somehow Pomni’s letting him get away with it.”
“I’m not letting him get away with anything!” Pomni insists immediately, glaring back at Ragatha—though her voice cracks just enough for Jax’s grin to widen.
“Relax, Daisy,” Jax purrs, leaning back into his mic. “Just think of me as your tragic, hopeless romantic… with a podcast budget.”
“You don’t even have a budget,” Gangle snaps, finally losing it. “And if we don’t move on, this whole thing is going to be scrapped and we're going to have to do this again!”
Everyone falls silent at Gangle’s outburst. The only sound in the room is the faint hum of the recording equipment.
Jax tilts his head, lips twitching, then leans just far enough toward her that his voice is caught by the mic. His tone is low, almost conspiratorial, as he says:
“… Spudsy’s.”
Gangle’s chair screeches backward as she lunges over the table, hands outstretched like claws.
“Don’t you dare bring that place up!”
The table rattles as Ragatha scrambles to hold her back. “Whoa, whoa—Gangle! Sit down before you rip his face off!”
Jax, unbothered, scoots his chair back just out of her reach, grinning like this is the best thing that’s happened all day. “What? I’m just saying—manager instincts die hard, huh?”
“Instincts?! You nearly got me fired three times!” Gangle shouts, wriggling in Ragatha’s grip.
Jax mutters something under his breath, which Pomni can't hear because of how low it was said, but clearly Zooble did because they swivel toward Jax, the two of them locking eyes with each other.
“You think you’re funny, huh?” Zooble hisses, voice suddenly sharp.
Jax raises a challenging eyebrow.
Pomni blinks, confused at the sudden change in demeanor.
Before she can ask, Zooble fires back in rapid Spanish. Jax immediately snaps back in the same language, louder, faster. Their voices overlap, both of them leaning forward, practically spitting fire into their mics.
Pomni sits frozen, staring between them. She can’t make sense of a single word, but she knows those have to be obscenities—the tone, the gestures, the sheer venom in Zooble’s glare says it all.
“Oh my god,” Ragatha groans, her sunglasses uneven, and still clinging to Gangle who’s thrashing around in her grip. “This is a disaster.”
“Definitely,” Pomni mutters, wide-eyed.
Pomni’s head whips between them like she’s watching a tennis match as they continue on, not stopping once for breath. It would be impressive if they weren't arguing.
“What is even happening right now?! We’re supposed to be doing something completely different!” Pomni then shouts, desperate to get them to stop.
Jax finally turns back toward her, breaking into a wide, unbothered grin, like the whole argument he had not even five seconds ago is already behind him. His gaze lingers on Pomni a second too long before he shrugs casually.
“Don’t worry, Daisy,” he drawls. “Some things get lost in translation.”
Zooble groans and drops their head into their hands. “I hate this podcast.”
“Same,” Ragatha mutters, still holding Gangle back.
But despite the chaos, Pomni can’t help the flutter in her stomach at the way Jax is still looking at her.
—
They somehow, by some miracle, finish the podcast.
It was tedious, there were arguments—mostly between Jax, Zooble, Ragatha, and Gangle—but they finished it.
And now the hard part falls on Gangle. She has to cut out some parts—most of the parts—before sending the final product to Kinger.
Zooble hovers over Gangle’s shoulder, watching her work, with their arms crossed tight on their chest. It weirdly reminds Pomni of the way dads stand around and watch Football on the TV.
Ragatha, on the other hand, is laying on Gangle’s bed. She’s sprawled out diagonally across the blankets, sunglasses still perched on her nose, the blue suit only slightly undone with the tie tossed aside. “What if we have to film it again?” she had insisted earlier. “I’m not risking changing and then wasting time.”
Pomni sits cross-legged on the carpet, the script papers messily stacked in her lap. Beside her, Jax has made himself comfortable on the floor too, since Zooble had shot him a sharp look earlier and declared, “If you even think about sitting on my bed, I’ll throw you out and never speak to you again.” It had sounded like an exaggeration, but with Zooble, it was impossible to tell.
Jax didn’t seem to care all that much, though. He’s shed the suit jacket, letting it crumple into a heap behind him, and his tie hangs loose around his neck, the knot completely undone.
He leans back on his hands, stretching out his legs so they bump against Pomni’s. Not hard—just enough to make her look up from her lap.
“Relax,” he teases in a low voice. “We survived the great American tragedy. Shouldn’t you be smiling?”
Pomni makes a face, clutching the papers closer to her chest. “You nearly derailed the entire thing about twenty times.”
“Nearly,” Jax corrects, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Key word. Didn’t actually happen, so you’re welcome.”
Pomni rolls her eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. The back-and-forth has become a rhythm, familiar in a way that unsettles her. She focuses too hard on straightening the stack of scripts, pretending not to notice how Jax is watching her, head tilted slightly like he’s trying to read something in her expression.
The silence stretches, broken only by Ragatha yawning dramatically on the bed and Zooble muttering something sharp under their breath about Gangle’s editing pace.
Jax shifts closer, just a fraction, his knee brushing hers again, lingering this time. “You know,” he says casually, voice pitched just low enough that only she can hear, “you didn’t answer me back there, Pomni.”
Pomni blinks. “Answer you?”
“Yeah,” Jax’s grin softens into something more sly. “When I asked why you left me for Tom.” His eyes glint, amused at her confusion. “In character, obviously.”
Pomni swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. She looks down at the crumpled edges of her script, trying to piece together a response, but all she can think about is how close his knee still is, how his voice dips when he says her name.
Before she can stammer anything out, Ragatha groans and flings an arm across her face. “Can you two not flirt right here? Some of us are trying to recover from this disaster.”
“It wasn't a disaster!” Jax exclaims without even looking up at her. “We made podcasting history.”
“Yeah—history’s worst podcast,” Zooble snaps without looking away from Gangle’s screen.
That earns a snort from Ragatha.
Jax is about to retort when Gangle suddenly starts complaining about the background sounding weird
Ragatha rolls onto her stomach across the bed, chin propped on her hands. “You do realize we don’t have to make it perfect, right? Kinger isn't expecting Oscar-worthy quality out of us.”
“Yes, he is,” Gangle insists without looking up. “Kinger said, and I quote, ‘Make it sound professional.’ Professional! If he hears you yelling about—” she waves a hand vaguely in Ragatha’s direction, “—cheating and murder in three different volumes, he’ll lose it!”
“That’s the book!” Ragatha protests, gesturing wildly. “If he can’t handle murder, then why are we doing Gatsby?”
“Because,” Zooble cuts in dryly, eyes glued to Gangle’s laptop, “someone chose it without caring what the others thought about.” They side-eye Jax, who shrugs nonchalantly.
“And besides, you all should thank me. Without me, this thing would’ve been a snooze fest. Admit it—you loved my performance,” he counters.
Ragatha throws one of the bed pillows at him. “Performance? All you did was flirt with Pomni for an hour!”
“Not true.” Jax catches the pillow easily, tucking it behind his head with a smug grin. “I also gave a heartfelt, Oscar-worthy monologue about the American Dream.”
“You butchered it,” Zooble says flatly. “Your accent slid all over the place. At one point you sounded like a soap opera villain.”
Jax gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Zoobie. Truly. I bared my soul out there.”
Pomni, against her better judgment, lets out a small laugh—quickly covering her mouth as if that’ll hide it. Jax notices, of course. His grin softens into something more genuine for just a second before he goes back to being smug.
Ragatha points at Pomni like she’s caught her red-handed. “See?! She likes it!”
Pomni’s face heats instantly. “No—I don’t—I was just laughing at how ridiculous he sounded!”
“Uh-huh,” Ragatha mutters, collapsing back onto the bed.
“Ridiculous,” Jax repeats, leaning closer to Pomni with a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’ll take that as endearing.”
Zooble groans loud enough to drown him out. “Can we start another argument? Anything’s better than watching this.”
That earns another laugh from Ragatha. Even Gangle snorts under her breath but keeps her focus glued to the screen.
The group bickers like that for a while—Ragatha threatening to suffocate Jax with the pillow, Zooble not caring anymore after the thirty minute mark, Pomni trying not to combust under Jax’s sideways glances—until, at last, Gangle sits up straighter.
“There,” she declares triumphantly, spinning the laptop to show the finished file. “Edited. Saved. Ready to send.”
The relief in the room is immediate. Ragatha shoots upright on the bed, hands raised like she’s just been liberated. Zooble exhales hard, muttering “finally,” under their breath. Even Jax sits up straighter, brushing invisible dust from his shirt.
“Thank god,” Ragatha sighs, flopping dramatically again. “We survived.”
“Barely,” Zooble mutters, eyeing Jax from across the room.
Jax leans close to Pomni one last time before climbing to his feet, his voice a teasing whisper just for her: “You never answered my question, Pomni.”
And even though she rolls her eyes and watches him saunter out the door with a little wave goodbye to everyone.
Her heart still skips a beat.
Notes:
I'm nice so I'm going to say this:
Prepare yourselves for upcoming angst.
Chapter 5
Notes:
Phew writing this was a lot, but so worth it!
Quick side note: I wrote most of this at night and while listening to depressing ass music, I did not come to play.
Also I think we're nearing the end of the fic... But Idk don't quote me on that.
Oh, and I updated the tags!
Enjoy! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Monday, December 8th.
Two days before the final project is due and the group’s presentation.
Pomni is practically sprinting across campus to make it to her English class on time, the snow falling around her only slowing her down.
The school hadn’t canceled classes—it is finals week, after all—and Pomni gets it, she really does. But she can’t help resenting the timing. Of course a snowstorm hits the week she’s already stressing.
By the time she stumbles into the English building, her fingers are numb, her face flushed, and her hair is a complete mess of damp strands clinging to her forehead. She lets out a long, exhausted sigh. Oh, and she's absolutely freezing her ass off.
Just then, the door swings open again, a violent gust of wind rushing in, slapping her in the face and messing her hair up even more.
“Oh my God,” she groans, shoving her hands through her hair in vain. “Why did it have to be snowing?”
“Tell me about it,” a voice behind her complains.
Her head snaps around at the sound—recognizing it instantly.
Jax.
He’s standing there, brushing snow from his jacket with sharp, frustrated flicks, his scarf hanging loosely around his neck.
“Oh,” Pomni blurts, straightening up and offering him a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know you were behind me. I would’ve held the door for you.”
Jax shakes his head, tugging the scarf off and draping it over his arm. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even realize it was you ‘til I walked in.”
Pomni huffs a soft laugh, tugging her gloves off and shoving them into her backpack. “So… are you ready to finally finish this project?”
They fall into step together, heading down the hall toward Kinger’s classroom.
“Yeah, I think so,” Jax replies flatly, the grin usually present on his face isn't there
Pomni slows, brow furrowing. “Are you okay? You look a bit down.”
His jaw tightens, his face twitching for just a second before his trademark grin flicks back into place—big and practiced. “I’m fine.”
She hesitates. The urge to push digs at her chest, but she knows Jax well enough by now—he shuts down the second someone tries to pry. So she nods instead, forcing a smile.
When they step into the classroom, the rest of their group is already there. Ragatha sits upright at their table, her laptop glowing in front of her as she types furiously. Zooble leans lazily beside her, arms crossed, while Gangle is perched beside them, both of them are watching Ragatha work.
Pomni and Jax greet Kinger, then slide into their seats, their bags hitting the floor with dull thuds.
“How’s the PowerPoint coming along?” Pomni asks, leaning toward Ragatha with hopeful eyes.
“Almost done!” Ragatha chirps, swiveling the screen toward her. She has twenty-three slides finished, currently working on the twenty-fourth one. “I just need to finish this one and the last one and we're technically done.”
Zooble groans, flopping their head into their hand. “We still have to sit here for the whole two hours though.”
“It’s fine, Zooble,” Gangle assures gently, smiling over at them. “At least now we won’t have to stress over it anymore.”
That earns her a faint blush across Zooble’s tan cheekbones, the corners of their lips twitching up. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Pomni blinks, eyebrows inching upward. Something in the way Zooble is looking at Gangle sticks out to her, obvious once she notices it. She sneaks a glance at Jax.
He's just watching the four of them.
He hasn't said anything the whole time he's been sitting there.
Pomni leans in close, making sure to whisper low enough so that the others don't hear. “Do you know what's up with Zooble and Gangle?”
Jax shifts his eyes to her, amusement curling at his mouth, but it doesn't look like his heart is in it. “You don’t know?”
Pomni shakes her head, her curiosity spiking.
“They like each other,” Jax says simply, the quiet laugh he huffs out ghosting against Ponni’s cheek.
Her jaw parts slightly, eyes snapping back to Zooble and Gangle. The two of them are bent close together, talking to each other in quiet voices, just like what Pomni and Jax are currently doing.
“Have they figured it out yet?” she asks, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“… No, they haven't,” Jax answers, also turning to look at Zooble and Gangle.
“Do you think they ever will?” she presses, studying his face.
Jax stays quiet for a beat too long, which is incredibly uncharacteristic of him, then shrugs—casual. “I have no idea.”
Once again, Pomni wants to ask so badly what's wrong with him.
She just wishes he wasn't so stubborn.
As Ragatha continues typing on her computer she says, "Okay, so everyone has five slides they're going to present. The order in which we do it is the order in which we each did our stuff. So Jax, Zooble, Pomni, Gangle, then me.”
“That's fine with me,” Zooble responds, nodding.
“Same,” Gangle agrees, taking out her sketchbook and pencils so she can draw.
And, upon seeing Gangle get to work on drawing, they all decide to study for their other classes upcoming exams.
It isn't until thirty minutes later that Ragatha snaps her laptop shut with a triumphant grin and exclaims, “We're officially finished with the project!”
“Thank God,” Zooble sighs, clapping their hands together.
“Yes!” Gangle cheers, immediately wrapping her arms around Zooble, who gladly returns the hug.
Pomni grins, reaching across the table to high-five Ragatha.
As Ragatha turns to celebrate with the others, Pomni twists in her chair, her smile bright and unguarded as she looks at Jax. “We did it!”
The smile Jax gives her is soft, like it's only meant for her. “We did.”
Pomni slumps back in her chair, tension easing from her shoulders. “Finally. Now we can relax until next semester.”
Jax tilts his head, his lips quirking up into a grin. “We still have the presentation part, y’know.”
“Okay, but that’s the easiest part of the whole project,” she counters, pouting just enough to make him laugh.
He chuckles under his breath, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Zooble then interrupts them to ask, "Any plans for after graduation Pomni? I know you, Gangle, and Ragtha are done in May. It’s still pretty far away but the months are passing by so quickly.”
Pomni blinks, caught off guard by Zooble's question, but she answers them nonetheless. “Oh, yeah, I do! Before I find a job as an auditor, my mom really wants to take me to Korea. Says, ‘You need to learn more about your culture and where we come from. You're always hogged up in that room of yours and never come out.’ So… she's basically forcing me even though I actually want to go.”
Gangle huffs out a laugh. “How long do you think you’ll be staying over there for?” she asks, leaning forward, genuine curiosity shining in her eyes.
Pomni shrugs, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “I actually have no idea… But I think I heard my mom say about two to four months. So, it really isn't that long.”
“Oh, yeah, that isn't bad. Unlike Ragatha over here who’s staying for a year in Haiti,” Zooble teases, a small smirk aimed at Ragatha.
“Hey!” Ragatha protests immediately, crossing her arms with a dramatic huff. “A year-long break before I have to take an exam and deal with kids is exactly what I need.” Her expression then softens, the bite in her voice slipping away. “And either way, I miss my dad."
Gangle sighs happily, her smile warming. “That's cute.”
Pomni turns her gaze to Gangle, eyes narrowing slightly with curiosity. “How about you, Gangle?”
“Well, first I’m going to need to build a portfolio with all of my drawings and character animations,” Gangle begins as she continues sketching in her notebook. Her voice carries a soft steadiness, as though she’s already rehearsed this plan in her head a dozen times. “After that, I’ll start looking for internships—anything that’ll help me work my way toward becoming an animator.”
Pomni brightens at that, leaning in a little. “An animator? That’s fun,” she says, genuine interest lacing her tone. “Got any plans for the summer?”
The question hangs in the air. Gangle’s pencil halts mid-line, her hand frozen above the paper. Slowly, she lifts her head, eyes flicking to Zooble. For a heartbeat too long she just… stares, as though weighing her words. Finally, she shakes her head with a faint smile. “No… I think I’ll stay here.”
And just like that, the tension dissolves, swept up in laughter and easy banter. They keep trading stories—about travel plans, exams, internships, parents’ expectations. Their voices overlap at points, jokes spilling freely, the room light with the sound of them learning about each other. For once, it feels normal. Fun.
It isn’t until nearly ten minutes in that Pomni realizes something is wrong.
Jax hasn’t said a single word.
Her smile falters as her attention drifts away from the conversation. She turns her head slightly, just enough to glimpse him out of the corner of her eye. He’s slouched at his desk, staring down at the surface, his face devoid of any emotion.
Concern knots in her chest. Without thinking, Pomni reaches out, laying her hand gently over his. Her worried gaze searches his profile. “Jax, are you sure you’re—”
He jerks his hand back as if her touch burned him. The sudden movement startles her, and before she can speak again, he’s already on his feet, grabbing his backpack with sharp, purposeful motions. He doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t look at anyone.
Pomni’s breath catches as she watches him stride over to Kinger’s desk. His shoulders are stiff, his voice low and clipped as he asks Kinger something she can’t make out. The others quiet slightly, unease settling over the group.
“Woah, what’s up with him?” Zooble mutters. Their face is carefully blank, but Pomni can hear the edge of concern hiding beneath their voice.
“I don’t… I don’t know,” Pomni admits softly, pushing herself to her feet. Her stomach twists with worry.
Just then, Jax nods at whatever Kinger tells him, then turns on his heel. Without so much as a glance at the group, he heads for the door.
Pomni watches him slip out of the room, her pulse quickening. “I’ll… I’ll be right back,” she blurts, and before anyone can stop her, she’s rushing after him.
She barely registers Ragatha calling her name as the door swings shut behind her.
She's walking as fast as she can to catch up to Jax, her short legs compared to his longer ones only making it difficult.
Finally, when she catches up, she grabs hold of his wrist with more force than she intends. Her hand clamps down hard, her breath ragged. “Jax, what’s wrong?”
He doesn’t even flinch. His voice is flat, cold. “Nothing.”
Her grip loosens slightly, softer now. “Are you okay? Seriously? You can talk to me, y’know.” Her voice wavers, but she pushes through, eyes searching his face. “We’re friends.”
The way he rips his wrist free makes her stumble back a step. She stares at him in stunned silence, her chest tightening. “What—?”
He finally turns to face her. The look he gives her—sharp, unflinching, filled with disdain—burns hot against her skin. Her throat closes, her breath hitching.
“We were never friends.”
The words hit her harder than any shove could. At first, she just stares up at him, sadness etched across her features. Then her expression twists, anger bubbling through the hurt. Her fists curl tight at her sides. “What are you even talking about, Jax? We were always friends.”
He leans down, closing the space between them, his grin stretched wide and cruel, his tone mocking. “We… were never friends, Pomni.”
“No. No, no, no. We’re not doing this.” Her jaw sets, and she jabs a finger at him, refusing to back down. “You’re not going to stand there and tell me nothing we’ve been doing meant anything. Because I know that’s not true.”
Jax laughs, the sound harsh and bitter, echoing in the hallway. “What we’ve been doing? We haven’t been doing shit, Pomni. We were just working together on a project. That’s it.”
Her voice rises, cracking with fury and desperation. “What about studying together—the Halloween party—the night we worked on the podcast? Did none of that mean anything to you?”
His expression flickers—something raw, something real—before snapping back to blank indifference. He shrugs, crossing his arms on his chest. “It was always just for the project, Pomni.”
She steps closer, forcing him back a step, her eyes burning. “You’re just going to pretend none of that even happened?”
He doesn’t answer. He only looks away, jaw clenched, the weight of his silence saying everything.
Her laugh is hollow, bitter. She shakes her head, disbelief twisting in her chest. “Do you ever take into consideration that this is the reason why people don't like you?”
That gets him. His head snaps back toward her, eyes flashing with anger. “Oh my God!” he fumes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “People don't like me because I don't let them like me. No one is worth my time. So they can leave me, dislike me, hate me, even. And I wouldn't give a damn.”
The air feels thick as Pomni swallows hard, her voice breaking as she whispers, “What would you do if I just… left, and never talked to you again?”
His arms drop from his chest, his face hardening into something unreadable. His reply is cold, sharp enough to cut. “I’d move on. And probably forget about you.”
Something inside her cracks. Tears sting her eyes, and she nods faintly, her voice small. “Okay… okay. I understand.”
She looks down, blinking rapidly, trying to will the tears away before they fall. But it’s too late—her chest aches, her throat burns—and it’s in this moment, this cruel, unbearable moment, that she realizes she likes Jax.
And it hurts. Hurts to know that to him, none of it mattered. Hurts to know he never thought of her as anything at all.
Her head snaps up, anger lashing out against the ache. She closes the distance in two quick strides, shoving him hard in the chest. “You’re a coward,” she hisses.
He stumbles back, nearly losing his balance. His voice rises, incredulous. “What the hell was that for?!”
She doesn’t let him recover. She grabs onto his hoodie and slams him into a nearby wall.
His breath gets knocked out of him. “Holy shit, you’re strong,” he wheezes, eyes wide for just a second before narrowing again. “Get off me!”
Pomni doesn’t budge. Her face is inches from his, her eyes wet and blazing. She shakes him violently, her voice raw as she screams, “You’re a fucking coward!”
He snarls, shoving her back with all his strength. She’s thrown off balance, crashing onto the floor with a hard thud.
The hallway goes silent except for the sound of both of them breathing hard—hers ragged with sobs, his sharp with frustration.
Her lip trembles. And then, like a dam breaking, the tears spill over, streaking down her cheeks as she looks up at him.
“What the hell is going on out here?!” a voice shouts from down the hallway.
Both Pomni and Jax snap their heads toward the sound.
Zooble comes rushing out of the classroom—Ragatha and Gangle close behind, faces drawn in alarm.
The second Zooble sees Pomni on the floor, tears streaking her cheeks, all hell breaks loose.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Jax?!” Zooble shouts, their hands already balled into fists. “Seriously—are you out of your goddamn mind?!”
Ragatha and Gangle don’t hesitate. They rush to Pomni’s side, Ragatha crouching down to hook her arms under Pomni’s shoulders, Gangle fluttering nervously beside her. Together, they pull her gently back to her feet.
Pomni can barely stand; her knees feel like paper. Her hands are trembling so violently she hides them against her chest, eyes burning as fresh tears roll down her face.
Jax scoffs, stepping forward, his own fury written across his face. He gets right up into Zooble’s space, nose to nose. “She’s the one that started it, Zooble! It’s not my fucking fault.”
Zooble doesn’t flinch. “Started it? You threw her on the floor, Jax! Look at her!”
And that’s when it slips. Spanish pours out of the both of them like venom—sharp, cutting, incomprehensible to most of them but scalding in its delivery. The words snap through the air, full of rage and self-defense they can’t put in English.
Pomni freezes, staring down at her shaking hands. Her vision blurs. Her chest heaves with sobs she can’t control, her breathing broken and uneven.
“Pomni, are you okay? What happened?” Gangle’s voice is small, trembling with worry. “We heard the yelling all the way down the hall…”
“I—” A jagged sob tears free from her throat before she can finish. She covers her face with both hands, unable to hold it in anymore.
Ragatha moves instantly, wrapping her arms around Pomni’s frame and tucking her against her chest. “Shh, it’s okay.” She strokes the top of Pomni’s head in slow, comforting passes, murmuring softly, “It’s going to be okay.”
Pomni clings to her like a lifeline, muffling her cries into Ragatha’s shoulder.
But Zooble and Jax aren’t done.
Their shouting climbs louder, sharper.
“There was no need to do that!” Zooble yells, their hands cutting through the air in wide, furious gestures. “None! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Fuck!” Jax snarls, his voice breaking under the weight of his anger. “Just—leave me the hell alone, Zooble! Get the fuck away from me!” His hand shoves Zooble’s shoulder hard before he storms past them all, barreling through the exit doors.
The blast of cold air from the snowstorm rushes into the hallway, stinging everyone’s skin before the doors slam shut behind him.
Zooble stays frozen for a moment, their chest heaving, eyes locked on the door Jax disappeared through. Their frame trembles as they swipe angrily at their face with the back of their sleeve. “Fuck. Fucking asshole.”
“Zooble…” Gangle whispers, reaching out with a hesitant hand.
But Zooble jerks away before it can touch their arm. “Gangle.” Their voice is tight, clipped. “Go back to the classroom. Tell Kinger Pomni’s sick—we’ll take her back to her dorm.”
Gangle recoils at the harshness but doesn’t argue. Her mouth pulls into a small, pained frown as she lowers her hand. “…Yeah. Okay.” With one last glance at Pomni, she turns and walks back toward the classroom.
Once she’s gone, Zooble finally looks at Pomni. Their voice softens just slightly. “You left your bag in the classroom, right?”
Pomni nods without meeting their eyes. She knows if she speaks, her voice will crack.
“Ragatha, stay with her. I’ll grab both your stuff.” Zooble doesn’t wait for a reply—they’re already heading back down the hall.
Ragatha and Pomni stay huddled up together in the hallway, neither of them talking, as they wait for Gangle and Zooble to come back. The only sound being their breaths and the occasional sniffle from Pomni.
She rests her head against Ragatha’s shoulder, her eyes sliding close. She's so exhausted.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ragatha asks gently after a long silence, rubbing small circles along her back.
Pomni sucks in a shaky breath, voice faint. “No… not right now.”
Ragatha nods against her hair. “Okay. Then we won’t.”
They stay like that until Zooble and Gangle return, arms full of bags. Without a word, they all fall into step together, escorting Pomni back to her dorm.
They don’t leave her side all night, making sure she eats, making sure she isn’t alone.
But even surrounded by her friends—wrapped in warmth, tucked beneath her blankets, their voices soft and reassuring—
All Pomni can think about is Jax.
—
Wednesday, December 10th.
The day of their presentation.
The table is silent, tense, suffocating.
Pomni sits in between Ragatha and Zooble, her eyes locked on her hands resting on the desk, nails pressing faint crescents into her palms.
Across from her, Jax stares hard at the front of the classroom, pretending to be absorbed in the final group presenting their slides on Pride and Prejudice.
Their group had gone first. Kinger had said something about how they “chose a book the quickest,” his tone chipper, oblivious to the quiet hostility at their table.
Unlike the other groups, who laughed and teased each other between talking points, Pomni’s group had been rigid and cold. Their voices clipped, their faces serious, none of them daring to look at one another. They delivered their analysis like strangers reading lines from a script, keeping their eyes either on the class or on Kinger—never each other.
“And that’s it! Any questions?” the boy presenting at the front asks, hopeful smile on his face.
From the back corner, someone raises a hand. “What did you guys do for your adaptation piece?”
One of the girls perks up, grinning. “We all dressed up as the characters and acted out as if they were hosting a podcast.”
Pomni’s shoulders stiffen. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Zooble’s expression harden, their narrowed gaze fixed on the group.
“That should’ve been us,” Zooble mutters, voice so low Pomni almost misses it.
Her breath leaves her in a sigh, heavy with exhaustion, and she lowers her eyes back to the scratched surface of her desk. She doesn't have the energy to answer.
When the last group is done answering questions, Kinger dismisses the class. Chairs scrape against the floor, chatter fills the air, but before Pomni’s group can slip out with the crowd, Kinger’s voice cuts through.
“Could the five of you come up here for a moment?”
Reluctantly, they approach. Kinger shuts his laptop, papers neatly stacked in his hands, before turning his full attention on them.
“So,” he begins warmly, “you five are some of my best students.”
“We are?” Gangle blurts out, eyes wide.
Zooble elbows her sharply.
“Oops—sorry!” Gangle laughs nervously, shoulders hunching. “Please, continue.”
Kinger’s smile is gentle. “Thank you. Anyway, there’s an event the day before Christmas Eve. The board will be recognizing students for their accomplishments, and you’ve all been invited.”
The group remains silent. No one meets his eyes.
“Is it mandatory?” Zooble finally asks, already looking like they’d rather disappear through the floor.
Kinger scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “Well… I may have already signed all of you up, so… yes. It is.”
Pomni swallows back a groan. Her voice comes out flat instead when she mutters, “What’s the attire?”
Kinger brightens, flipping through his stack of papers. “Formal. All the details are on here.” He passes out sheets, one to each of them.
Pomni takes hers and scans it quickly. A gala. A charity fundraiser. An awards ceremony. All rolled into one suffocating, sparkling event. Her head already hurts, and she isn’t even there yet.
Her eyes narrow at the list of rules: dresses to the ankle, no skirts too short, slits modest, minimal cleavage, while the men wear tuxedos or suits. She glares down at the page, wishing that her stare would disintegrate it.
“I’ll be seeing all of you there, yes?” Kinger asks hopefully, clasping his hands together.
They all nod mutely.
“Great! You’re free to go,” he says with a wide smile. “That’s all I needed to share.”
The group begins to file out. Pomni trails at the back, about to step through the doorway when Kinger’s voice stops her.
“Wait, Pomni.”
She freezes, turning back. Kinger’s gaze meets hers, his expression touched with concern.
“Are you alright, dear? It was… hard to focus Monday with all that yelling echoing through the hall.” His brows knit with genuine worry.
Her throat tightens instantly. The memory of her and Jax’s fight crashes over her like cold water. She forces herself to shake her head, swallows the lump rising in her throat.
“I’m fine. No need to worry. Me and… Jax just had an argument.”
Kinger’s lips turn down into a deep frown. He folds his arms on his desk, leaning slightly toward her. “Are you sure? I’m here if you want to talk. About anything.”
Pomni blinks quickly, willing away the sting at the corners of her eyes. Her smile is forced. “Yup. I’m good. Really. I’ll see you at the event, Kinger—bye.”
She waves and steps out before her voice can betray her.
“Bye, Pomni,” he says softly behind her, the sadness in his tone making her heart hurt.
When Pomni steps out of the classroom, the door clicking shut behind her, she presses her back against the cool wall of the hallway. Her chest rises unevenly as she draws in a shaky breath, then exhales it just as unsteadily, the sound faint but sharp in the empty corridor. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, willing herself to stay composed.
“Everything okay?” Ragatha’s voice comes soft and careful, almost cautious, as she appears at Pomni’s side.
Pomni’s head lifts, and she forces a small nod, lips pulling into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice thin. “Let’s go.”
Ragatha doesn’t press further, only looping her arm lightly through Pomni’s as though offering quiet support without words.
Together, they push through the double doors of the building and step into the open snow-filled campus.
Now the only thing Pomni should be worrying about is finding a dress for the event.
—
Jax is hunched over his desk, studying his Agricultural Economics notes for the test he has tomorrow.
Everything is fine, until there's a sudden knock on his door. His head snaps up, brows knitting in confusion.
That’s strange. His roommate had made it very clear he’d be out all night and wouldn’t be back until sometime tomorrow. And he’d definitely taken his keys. So… who the hell could it be?
Jax exhales through his nose, shoving his pen and notes onto the bed in a messy heap before dragging himself up. He stands at the door for a long moment, hand hovering over the knob. If he doesn't answer, would the person on the other side eventually leave?
“I know you're in there. Open the door, Jax,” the voice from outside calls.
Welp, so much for the person thinking he's not here and leaving.
Jax blows out a loud, irritated breath, unlocking the door and swinging it open with a practiced scowl. His sharp retort dies on his tongue, his eyes widening at who’s standing in front of him.
Zooble stands there, arms tightly crossed, their mouth pressed in a firm frown. Their hair is mussed—likely from the cold wind outside—and their eyes are set on him with a seriousness that makes Jax’s stomach tighten.
He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “What is it now? Come to yell at me some more?” He glances at the clock on the nightstand. 11:25. “Some people are actually trying to sleep, you know. Neighbors might not appreciate a screaming match.”
Zooble runs a hand through their already-wild hair, mussing it further before letting it drop limply at their side. “I came to talk.”
Jax barks out a humorless laugh. “Wow. That’s real mature of you.”
Zooble’s eyes narrow. “Can you take anything seriously for five seconds?” Their tone sharpens, but there’s a thread of restraint underneath. “I just came here to clear some things up.”
Jax’s mouth twists. He doesn’t want this. Not tonight. Not ever, really. His fingers tighten around the edge of the door as he begins to swing it shut. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
But Zooble’s hand shoots out, catching the door with ease and shoving it back.
God damn, he should start working out. Why is everyone so much stronger than him?
Jax glares, his voice dropping into a hiss. “What is there to talk about then, huh?”
Zooble doesn’t flinch. “Pomni told us about your guy's argument.” Their frown deepens, eyes boring into him. “I know you didn’t mean what you said.”
Heat flares in Jax’s chest, his fists curling tight at his sides. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Zooble. And I don’t see why you even care.”
“I know that you like her.”
The words land like a gut punch. Jax’s expression falters, his fists slackening as his gaze goes unfocused, blank.
“I saw the way you were looking on Monday at the table before you stormed out,” Zooble adds, sighing tiredly. “You're scared people will leave you. That's why you push them away.”
Jax swallows down the lump in his throat, tearing his gaze away from Zooble. “I still don't know why you care. I thought you hated me.”
Zooble rolls their eyes, crossing their arms on their chest again now that they know Jax won't close the door in their face. "You're annoying, and insufferable, and down right an asshole sometimes.” Their voice softens, just a fraction. “But I don't hate you, Jax. I never did.”
Jax exhales shakily, staring down at their shoes instead of their face. “…Whatever.”
“Talk to her.”
His head jerks up, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“Talk to Pomni,” Zooble repeats firmly.
Jax blinks, disbelieving. “No.”
“What do you mean ‘no?’” Zooble’s composure finally cracks. They groan and shove their way into the room, forcing Jax backward until he hits the wall with a dull thud.
“Ah, shit. That hurt,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his head, wincing. He looks back at Zooble, who’s practically in his face, fuming.
Zooble’s voice is sharp, almost trembling with frustration. “Why don’t you want to talk to her?”
“Because there is nothing to talk about, Zooble!” Jax snaps, his voice breaking. “Like you said, I push people away. I pushed her away. She probably came to her senses and started hating me as well.”
Zooble’s jaw tightens as they drag both hands through their hair in frustration, strands sticking up in every direction. “No one hates you, Jax! Will you stop saying that?!”
The sharpness in their tone makes Jax shrink back against the wall, his shoulders curling inward. His voice comes out quieter, fragile. “Ragatha does… Gangle—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Zooble cuts in, their words firm and unwavering. “Gangle doesn’t hate anyone. And that includes you.”
“She should.”
The silence that follows feels heavy, pressing in on the walls of the small dorm room. Jax stares at the floor, his knuckles white at his sides, while Zooble studies him with a gaze that isn’t angry anymore—just weary.
Finally, Zooble exhales, long and slow. “She doesn’t. And that’s what matters.” They bite at their lip, thinking for a moment, then continues, softer but still steady. “Look, Jax. You need to stop pushing people away. It doesn’t just hurt them—it’s also clearly hurting you too. Man the fuck up and communicate with people like any adult would. Because that’s what we are. Adults. So act like it.”
They step back, putting some space between them. And even though Jax has a good few inches of height on them, it still feels like Zooble is towering over him.
“That’s all I wanted to say, so I’ll get going now,” they murmur, turning toward the door that’s still hanging open. Their steps are slow, deliberate, but they stop in the doorway, glancing back one last time.
“Ragatha doesn’t hate you either. She’s just… hurt you did that to her too.” A beat of silence, heavy with meaning. “Goodbye, Jax. I’ll see you at the event.”
The door closes softly behind them.
And suddenly, the room feels unbearably quiet.
Jax doesn’t move. He stares at the door, as if expecting it to open again.
His knees then give out, and he slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the cold floor. For a moment, he just sits there, numb. Then a choked, hiccuping sob escapes before he can stop it.
His hands fly up, covering his face, but it doesn’t help. The tears slip through his fingers anyway, hot and relentless, dripping onto the front of his shirt. His chest heaves with uneven breaths, every sob pulling more out of him than he thought he had left.
Why does Zooble have to be right all the damn time?
The thought echoes in his mind as he presses his palms harder against his eyes, wishing the ache in his chest would just go away.
But it doesn’t.
It never really does.
Notes:
Jax's POV unlocked? Who cheered?!
Chapter 6
Notes:
I think we have maybe 1-2 chapter left of this fic idk.
Quick side note: I researched and scrounged the internet for more details about traditional Pakistani dresses and accessories for Gangle to wear. So if anything is incorrect and anyone is Pakistani or desi please correct me. I don't want to make a fool out of myself and be ignorant.
Quick side note #2: a lot of Hispanic/Latino parents teach their kids how to dance at a young age, some even sign them up for dancing lessons. Mine did not :,). I had to learn bachata a few days before my quince. Now you're probably wondering what this has to do with the chapter? You'll see! (Shout out to my Hispanic baddies it's almost our mouth!)(also quick history lesson: if anybody didn't know, Bachata originated in the Dominican Republic. So the ones that dance it the best are the Dominicans).
With that out of the way:
Enjoy! :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jax doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on the floor, his face buried in his hands, his chest aching with every uneven breath.
A quick glance at the clock on his nightstand tells him anyway.
12:35.
A full hour.
“Great,” he mutters hoarsely, voice cracking from crying.
With a heavy sigh, he drags a trembling hand down his face and forces himself to stand. His legs feel like lead, his head foggy and heavy all at once. He’s exhausted, he hasn’t finished studying, and—just to top it all off—his stomach growls painfully, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.
His eyes burn a hole into his clock. He should've eaten something earlier. And no fast food places are open at this time of night that are close by.
Which leaves him with only one option.
Shoving his keys and some crumpled bills into the pocket of his sleep pants, he trudges out of his dorm room. The click of the lock behind him sounds far too loud in the empty hallway.
Two floors down, the vending machine hums softly in the corner, its bright fluorescent light stabbing into his tired eyes. Jax just stands there for a long moment, staring at it like it’s some kind of cruel joke. His hands stay stuffed in his pockets, his jaw clenched tight.
Five minutes pass before he even decides.
His gaze lands on the peanut M&M’s and the bag of Cheetos. His lips press into a thin line.
“Guess that’ll have to do…” he mutters under his breath.
He feeds the machine his money and punches in the numbers. The peanut M&M’s shimmy forward, almost dropping—only to jam at the very edge of the coil. Dangling. Mocking him.
Jax stares at the candy, blank at first, then his teeth grit so hard his jaw aches.
“Are you fucking serious?”
He shoves at the machine. Nothing.
“Fuck!” He kicks his foot against the metal, the crash echoing down the silent hallway. Still, the candy refuses to fall.
He stands there, chest heaving, glaring daggers at the vending machine as though he could melt it with sheer rage. His breath comes hot and fast, his hands trembling with pent-up frustration.
And then—something shifts in the corner of his eye.
Jax freezes. Slowly, he turns his head toward the dark hallway.
At first, he thinks he’s imagining it—his brain still fuzzy from crying. But no. Someone is there.
What he doesn’t expect is Kinger, standing right next to him, eyes wide and fixed on the same vending machine like he’d been caught in the act of… whatever the hell Kinger does at midnight.
Jax’s heart leaps into his throat. He jerks back with a startled curse.
Kinger jumps too, clutching his wallet like it’s a lifeline. His wild eyes dart between Jax and the machine.
“Holy fuck!” Jax practically shouts, voice echoing through the hall. “Kinger, you scared the hell out of me!”
He doesn’t even care that there are probably students trying to sleep nearby. His pulse is pounding too hard, and his nerves are fried raw.
“You scared me!” Kinger retorts, slowly lowering his hands to his sides. His voice still wavers with adrenaline. “No need to be screaming, Jax. I thought you already saw me.”
“I—what—no.” Jax stumbles out, shaking his head. “Wait, what are you even doing here?”
“I’m the Faculty Head of House. Didn’t you know?” Kinger blinks at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. “I basically live here. I came down to get a snack.”
Jax’s jaw slackens. “Oh, wow. I did not know that.” He side-steps, gesturing at the machine like a frustrated game show host. “Go ahead, then. My candy doesn’t even want to fall anyway.”
“Oh! I know just the trick.” Kinger perks up. He shoves his wallet in his pocket and steps forward like a man on a mission. He punches in a sequence of numbers so fast Jax doesn’t even catch half of them. Then he steps back, folding his arms with a smug grin.
A second later, the vending machine groans before dropping everything in the front row at once. Chips, candy, crackers—it all comes tumbling down.
Jax’s mouth falls open, then stretches into a grin so wide it almost hurts. He lunges forward, scooping up his peanut M&M’s, Cheetos, and a few other snacks. “I take back every negative thing I’ve ever said about you. You’re so cool.”
Kinger chuckles, batting a hand at him. “Aw, no need for flattery—wait, what?”
“Don’t dwell on it too much,” Jax mutters quickly, clutching his snacks as if they were gold.
He’s just about to leave and offer a half-hearted “thanks” over his shoulder, when Kinger’s voice stops him.
“Jax. Are you okay?”
Jax freezes, his back stiff, eyes locked on the exit sign glowing red at the end of the hallway. Slowly, he turns his head until his gaze meets Kinger’s.
“What?”
“It’s about what happened on Monday.” Kinger’s voice softens, his brows pinching together. “You didn’t look well when you asked to leave class. And, well… you don’t look great right now either.”
Jax presses his lips into a thin line, hugging his bag of candy and chips closer to his chest. “It’s just… It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, Kinger.”
But Kinger tilts his head, studying him with that sharp, teacherly gaze. Then, he turns to look at the soft glow of the vending machine, he says quietly: “I know it’s about Pomni.”
Jax’s breath catches like he’s been sucker punched. He wants to scream. Cry. Yell. Something. But he can’t—not here, not in front of his English teacher. His throat closes, and all he can do is stare at the floor.
“Something happened between you two, didn’t it?” Kinger goes on, voice gentle but steady. “I heard the yelling. I saw Pomni yesterday. And now I’m seeing you. It bothers me, Jax. It bothers me to know some of my favorite students aren’t doing well because of an argument.”
Jax’s shoulders curl in on themselves, his vision blurring.
And it's like a dam breaking. He blurts, “She… she was talking about what she was going to do after graduation.” His voice trembles, the words jagged. “And it—it scared me. I’m scared she’s gonna leave me. So I… I told her we weren’t friends. That we never were.”
Kinger doesn’t interrupt. He just listens.
“And then Zooble came to my dorm earlier. Told me pushing people away hurts them and me.” Jax swallows hard, his chest stuttering with uneven breaths. “Told me to man the fuck up and communicate like an adult. And also that…” He trails off, the silence heavy around them, then whispers:
“Nobody actually hates me.”
Both of them don't say anything for a long time. The only sound being the faint crinkle of bags in Jax’s arms and the low hum of the vending machine.
Finally, Kinger says, “Y’know… I learned something after my wife died.”
Jax’s head jerks up, eyes wide. “What was it?”
“That we need to cherish the people around us,” Kinger says softly. His gaze finally breaks from the vending machine to meet Jax’s. “Because we never know when they’ll be gone. In this world, the worst thing you can do is make someone think they’re not wanted or loved."
Jax’s lip wobbles. He clutches the bags tighter, the plastic crinkling loud in the quiet hallway. “I’m just so… scared. Scared that one day I’ll wake up and she’ll be gone. Scared that she’s going to leave and never come back.”
Kinger steps closer and sets a steady, reassuring hand on his shoulder. "But that's a part of being human, Jax. Feeling those emotions. You shouldn't be scared of them or push them away, that doesn't protect you. It just hurts more. You need to embrace them because, if not, are you really living at all?”
That undoes him. Jax hiccups, then breaks into a gut-wrenching sob, dropping every single bag of snacks to the floor so he can wrap his arms around himself.
Kinger pulls him in, steady and patient, guiding them both down to the floor. He doesn’t say anything more, just holds Jax while he cries.
Time passes—ten minutes, twenty, maybe more—before Jax finally scrubs his face with the back of his hand, voice raw. “I’m sorry about your wife.”
Kinger merely shakes his head, peeling his arms away from Jax so he can rest his hands in his lap. “There's no need to be. I'm okay about it now. I've made peace with it.” His smile is full of love when he mumbles, “I’m just glad I was able to spend my time with her even if it was only for a short amount and not forever.”
Jax bites back another sob, muttering, “Okay.”
The silence that follows is broken by the loudest stomach growl Jax has ever made in his life. It echoes embarrassingly through the hallway.
Kinger raises a brow. “Hungry?”
Jax groans, tipping his head back against the wall. “Yeah. I didn’t eat earlier. That’s why I came all the way down here.”
“Can’t you drive yourself somewhere? There’s a Denny’s that’s open 24/7 about ten minutes from here.” Kinger adjusts his glasses.
Jax glares weakly. “No. I don’t even have my license.”
Kinger sighs dramatically. “Unfortunate. Very unfortunate.” Then he gets up, dusts off his slacks, and extends a hand. “Let’s go.”
Jax blinks. “What?”
“Let’s go. I’ll drive you so you can eat something.”
Jax eyes his hand skeptically but takes it anyway, pulling himself up. “Isn’t that considered… Unprofessional?”
Kinger shrugs. “Probably… But I’m not about to let you starve.”
“I’m not going to starve,” Jax mutters, pointing to all the bags on the floor and in the vending machine. “I’ve got chips and candy.”
“That’s not food.”
Jax opens his mouth to arguing that it is, but quickly closes it. He huffs out a breath, lips tugging up into a reluctant smirk. "Alright. Let's go to Denny’s.”
And that's what they do.
—
Pomni had tried on twenty different dresses—not an exaggeration, she counted—and hated every single one of them.
So now she’s in a suit.
She stands just outside the tall brick building where the event is being held, watching people walk in. Couples arm in arm, friends laughing, the occasional lone student rushing in with an invitation clutched in hand.
Pomni waits.
She had promised Ragatha and Gangle that she’d stand out here until they arrived.
Big mistake.
The moment she made that promise she hadn’t realized how cold it would be.
The only protection she has against the cold night air is a white button up—that isn't even buttoned all the way, she has three buttons undone, because she wanted to look cool—and a tailored suit jacket that’s doing absolutely nothing to stop the chill. Her breath puffs visibly in front of her and she shoves her hands deep into her pockets, rocking on her heels to distract herself. Every minute that ticks by feels like punishment.
By the time ten minutes have passed, she’s ready to give up and walk inside just to warm up. That’s when headlights sweep across the curb, and she spots Ragatha and Gangle climbing out of a car.
Relief crashes over her. Thank God. She doesn’t know how much longer she could’ve lasted.
But when they walk close enough for Pomni to see what they’re wearing, her jaw drops.
Gangle looks radiant, draped in a traditional black Pakistani Salwar Kameez that sways with each careful step. An embellished dupatta shimmers around her shoulders, delicate bangles clink around her wrists, and silver jhumkas glint whenever she moves her head. Around her neck, a gleaming set of Kundan jewelry completes the look, catching the light in a way that makes her glow. Pomni doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything more beautiful in her life.
Ragatha, walking beside her, looks equally stunning. She’s chosen a black dress—modest, but flattering—that hugs her figure without overdoing it. Her curls are gathered into a bun atop her head, a few loose pieces framing her face perfectly. Even her eyepatch has been swapped for a black one, matching the outfit and tying everything together.
They both look gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.
When they finally reach her, Ragatha tilts her head and smirks. “You look very sophisticated, Pomni.”
Pomni chuckles, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets and glancing between the two of them. “I can say the same about you both.” Her gaze settles on Gangle, and her voice softens. “You look out of this world.”
Gangle’s cheeks flush pink, and she waves a hand dismissively, her bangles jingling. “No need to flatter me.”
“Oh, but I do!” Pomni insists, springing forward to grab the door for them. “No one else tonight will look half as good as you, Gangle.”
Ragatha shoots Pomni a grin as she steps through the doorway, murmuring, “She’s telling the truth.”
Pomni returns her smile before glancing back at Gangle, who blushes even brighter, her lips pulling into a shy but wide smile. All she manages is a quiet, “Thanks, guys.”
The warmth of the lobby washes over them the second they step inside, and Pomni nearly sighs in relief. The space is already buzzing with life—professors greeting each other, older alumni mingling, and clusters of students laughing near the refreshment tables.
Pomni’s eyes scan the crowd instinctively. No sign of Jax.
She leans closer to Gangle, brow furrowing. “Hey… I just realized. Where’s Zooble?”
Gangle glances around as well. “They told me they had something important to do first, but they’ll be here soon.”
Pomni purses her lips, giving a small nod. “Alright, then let’s find a table to sit at.”
Easier said than done.
They spend the next five minutes weaving between tables, sidestepping bustling waiters and trying not to bump into people’s chairs. Pomni’s head keeps swiveling as they pass the front of the hall where the stage is set up. Of course every table up there is already taken.
By the time they finally find an empty table near the back where they entered from, Pomni nearly cheers aloud in relief. Why did there have to be so many people here? The room feels packed to the brim with voices, laughter, and the clinking of silverware against plates.
Somehow, in the midst of all this, they end up with champagne glasses in hand.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t drink after that horrible Halloween party…” Gangle mutters, her bangles softly clinking as she wraps her fingers around the stem of the glass and puts it aside. A visible shudder runs down her frame at the memory, her shoulders curling inward.
Pomni swallows hard, the mention alone enough to tighten her chest. Her throat feels dry as she pushes her glass away. “I didn’t even drink that night,” she admits, voice low, a weak laugh slipping out in an attempt to loosen the knot in her shoulders.
Ragatha notices. She always notices. Concern flickers across her face, but she doesn’t prod. Instead, she lifts her own glass and takes a tentative sip, before setting it back down with a small grimace. “I don’t even like champagne,” she says lightly, letting the moment pass.
A sharp chime sounds from the table, making Gangle jump slightly. She quickly digs out her phone, screen lighting up her face as she reads. “Zooble’s here,” she announces, her voice brightening. “They’ll be in shortly.”
Ragatha clasps her hands together, her smile warm and genuine. “Oh, how wonderful.”
As if on cue, the doors at the far end of the hall open. The three of them glance toward the entrance.
Pomni’s breath stutters. For a second, she swears her heart stops altogether.
Zooble and Jax walk in together.
Zooble looks sharp in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled neatly to their elbows, matching slacks, and a fitted vest. The only colorful thing on them is a pink tie.
But Jax—
God, Jax.
Pomni has seen him in a suit before. The podcast, when he had played Gatsby. That white suit had hung awkwardly on his frame, too big, too stiff, because she hadn’t known his actual measurements.
But this? The black suit he has on fits him perfectly. Tailored in a way that flatters his frame. The deep shade makes his eyes all the more piercing, and Pomni can’t tear her gaze away.
And she hates herself for it. Hates the way her stomach flips just from the sight of him.
Across the table, Gangle looks utterly speechless, her wide eyes locked on Zooble as a flush creeps high onto her cheeks.
Gangle quickly recovers, waving Zooble down with a shy, eager smile. Zooble spots her instantly, and their whole expression softens. They make a straight line toward the table, Jax trailing a few paces behind them. He looks uncomfortable, his shoulders hunched, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
Zooble can’t stop stealing glances at Gangle, though when they finally reach the table, they address all three of them. “You all look beautiful,” they say simply, but the words hang in the air, carrying a weight that makes Gangle’s face grow even warmer.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the bangles on her wrist chiming softly. “You look good yourself,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.
Zooble shrugs, modest but clearly pleased, before slipping into the seat beside her. “I try.”
Jax lowers himself stiffly into the chair next to Zooble, his posture rigid, hands clasped in his lap. He doesn’t look at anyone—just at the table, as if the white tablecloth has suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.
And Pomni, against every instinct, keeps sneaking glances at him.
The table slips into silence after Zooble stops talking, the kind that stretches thin and uncomfortable. Pomni keeps her hands folded in her lap, staring down at the untouched champagne glass as though it might offer her an escape. The soft swell of music and chatter around them only makes the quiet at their table stand out more.
It’s Ragatha who rescues them. She leans forward with a polite smile, voice warm but careful. “So… Zooble, why’d you get here so late?”
Zooble chuckles, the sound light and easy, as if even recalling the story makes them grin. “Funny story, actually—”
Jax groans, rolling his eyes, and crossing his arms tight across his chest, shoulders curling defensively. “Here we go…” he mutters through clenched teeth.
“Don’t be such a crybaby about it,” Zooble shoots back without missing a beat, their lips quirking in amusement. They turn their attention to the rest of the group, gesturing loosely toward Jax with a thumb. “So, I was already driving here, right? Minding my own business. Then I get a phone call from this guy. He’s all, ‘Zooble, I need a ride,’ because—get this—” they pause for effect, “he doesn’t have his license. And apparently, paying for an Uber was just too painful for him to consider.”
They lean back in their chair with a chuckle, shaking their head. “So I had to drive all the way back to the dorms just to pick him up and haul him here.” Their voice dips into laughter again, but when they glance around the table, no one else is laughing. Ragatha offers a polite little smile, Gangle tilts her head curiously, and Pomni just looks down at the tablecloth again.
Zooble clears their throat, laughter trailing off awkwardly. “Huh. Tough crowd.”
Jax’s eyes narrow. He leans in toward Zooble, hissing something sharp under his breath. Pomni can’t make out the words, only that they're low and bristling with irritation.
Zooble fires back just as quietly, though their words slip faster, smoother. Pomni catches the sound of Spanish spilling between them, back and forth. They don't want the others to hear what they're talking about.
And then the music shifts.
Pomni doesn’t know the song, but Jax’s head snaps up immediately. Relief washes over his face, tension melting from his posture in an instant. He turns to Zooble with wide, pleading eyes.
“You know how to dance bachata, right?” he asks in a low rush, urgency sharp in his voice.
Zooble raises a brow, suspicious. “… Yeah, obviously. Why?”
Then realization dawns, and their whole expression falls. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I am not getting up to dance to Romeo Santos with you. There’s only four pairs up there—everyone will be staring.”
Jax doesn’t even let them finish. He shakes his head and grabs Zooble’s wrist, tugging them up from the table before they can protest further.
“Jax—” Zooble tries, but he’s already pulling them toward the dance floor.
The last thing Pomni hears before they disappear into the crowd is Jax’s muttered plea, barely audible over the music:
“Anything is better than them staring at me like they don’t want me there.”
—
“Are we seriously doing this?” Zooble hisses, their heels digging into the polished floor as Jax drags them farther into the thrumming rhythm of the music.
“Yes.” Jax doesn’t even blink, his jaw set like stone.
Zooble glares. “You still have to talk to Pomni—”
“Shut up,” Jax cuts them off, eyes darting nervously toward the tables where Pomni sits. His hand tightens around Zooble’s wrist. “Do you want to lead, or should I?”
Zooble just stares at him for a long moment, their expression unreadable. Finally, with a resigned exhale, they mutter, “Let me. But after—” They stop at the edge of the dance floor, turning so Jax has no choice but to face them. “You talk to her. Stop being a coward.”
Zooble adjusts their stance, sliding one hand onto Jax’s waist while Jax reluctantly sets his hand on Zooble’s shoulder. Their free hands clasp together, warm palm against warm palm. They step in closer, the space between them evaporating until their bodies are nearly flush.
“Fine. Whatever,” he grits out, jaw clenched.
And then they start dancing to the beat. Zooble leads, smooth and certain, while Jax matches them, though a bit stiff.
Jax leans in close to whisper in Zooble's ear. His voice is low, rushed, desperate. “What do I even say to her? What if she doesn't want to talk?”
Zooble exhales sharply, eyes fixed on the steps. “Pomni will want to talk. I know it.” Their hand presses firmer at Jax’s waist. “And as for what you’re going to say… That’s for you to figure out.”
“Will you stop squeezing me—” Jax hisses, nearly tripping on Zooble’s foot. He exhales in defeat, his voice cracking into a groan. “You’re no help at all, Zoobie.”
Zooble tilts their head, a grin tugging at their lips. “And you can’t dance.”
Jax’s jaw drops, his expression nothing short of scandalized. “I’ll have you know that my dancing skills are extraordinary.” He looks away petulantly, lips pursed into a pout. “This is just my first time not leading.”
Zooble chuckles low in their throat, amused at his stubbornness. “Uh-huh.” Their eyes gleam before they mumble, “I’m going to spin you now.”
Jax blinks, alarm flashing across his face. “What?”
“Oops. Too late.”
Before Jax can protest, Zooble pulls him into a tight turn, their clasped hands guiding him effortlessly.
And then he falls right back into step with Zooble. Their bodies sync with the beat.
Jax stares at them, a furrow in his brow. “Asshole”
Zooble only smirks, leaning in just enough for their voice to drip with smugness. “Takes one to know one.”
Jax narrows his eyes at Zooble’s smirk. “Haha, very funny.”
Zooble smoothly guides him through another turn. “You shouldn't be laughing. At least I haven't been stepping on my partner’s shoes.”
“I have not stepped on your shoes once!” Jax protests.
“Mm-hm,” Zooble hums, clearly unconvinced. They spin him again just to fuck with him.
Jax grips their hand tighter, whispering through clenched teeth, “Do that one more time and I swear—”
“You’ll what? Cry about it?” Zooble teases, their grin widening as they dip him ever so slightly, forcing Jax to grip their shoulder for balance.
Jax lets out a startled yelp, clinging to them. “What the fuck was that?!”
“A dip,” Zooble answers simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Yeah I know. Don’t ever do that again,” Jax snaps, cheeks burning.
Zooble laughs, their shoulders shaking. “Relax, Jax. You didn’t die.”
“Yeah, well, I almost did,” he mutters sarcastically, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he keeps following Zooble’s lead, his movements slowly growing less stiff. His lips twitch like he’s fighting not to smile.
Zooble notices. “There it is. I knew you were enjoying this.”
“I am not enjoying this.”
“Sure you’re not.”
Jax swallows hard, trying to glare at them, but it falters. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re terrible at lying.”
But, for the first time all night, Jax doesn’t feel like he's alone. Zooble pulls him closer, their steps sharp and clean. Jax’s heartbeat is hammering, not just from the dancing, but from the fact that—God help him—he’s actually having fun.
As the music picks up into the bridge, they both move quicker. Jax tightens his hold, refusing to let Zooble show him up. “If you spin me this time, I swear—”
Zooble cuts him off by spinning him again—twice in a row.
Jax lets out a strangled noise but lands on beat. “… Did you just—”
“Double spin,” Zooble confirms proudly.
“You’re a menace.”
“And yet you followed me.”
Zooble’s eyes flick past Jax’s shoulder, clearly locking onto something at the table. And then—before he can even react—spins Jax so he's looking at the table, Zooble now pressed behind him, both of them still in rhythm.
“Hey! What the hell was that for?” Jax blurts, his voice cracking halfway through.
Zooble leans in, close enough that Jax can feel their breath brush his ear. Their voice is low, deliberate:
“Look at Pomni.”
His stomach lurches. His gaze hesitates, hovering just above the floor for a beat too long before he finally lets himself follow Zooble’s direction.
And—
There she is.
Pomni is staring right at him. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes—sharp, unwavering, almost burning through him—hit him harder than any words could. His stomach tightens instantly.
“Oh, fuck—” he mutters, barely audible over the music.
“Now you really need to talk to her,” Zooble presses, spinning him back around smoothly. “Take her somewhere quiet after this. The awards ceremony won’t start for another ten minutes. You’ll have time.”
Jax’s throat feels dry, but he manages a clipped, “Okay.”
Zooble quirks a brow. “Okay?”
He exhales sharply, nodding once. “Yeah. I’ll talk to her after this.”
“Good.” The word is firm, final—like Zooble just sealed a deal.
The song then slows into its final notes. Zooble, always loving to fuck with Jax, sweeps him into one last dip.
Jax, instead of yelping like last time, just laughs breathlessly. He clings to Zooble, half-glaring, half-smiling up at them. “You’re the worst.”
Zooble shrugs, smirking down at him, and holding the pose just as the music fades out.
The crowd claps lightly for the dancers, and Jax scrambles upright, brushing at his suit like he wasn’t just dramatically dipped in front of everyone.
“I think I just acquired myself a new dance partner,” Zooble says, genuinely, sincerely.
“I'm not dancing with you ever again,” Jax retorts instantly. Which is an obvious lie, even to Zooble.
They walk side by side back to the table, Zooble not bothering to hide their smile. “You truly are a horrible liar.”
And they're right.
He is.
—
Pomni feels like she’s barely keeping herself together by the time Zooble and Jax return to the table. Her hands are clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles have gone bone white, nails digging crescents into the fabric of her pants. Even Ragatha had leaned over mid-song, whispering with concern, “Are you okay?”
She hadn’t been. Not even close.
And now—
She gets shaken out of her daze when Jax stops right in front of her chair. His face is unreadable, but his posture betrays him: stiff shoulders, fidgeting hands, the restless tension of someone forcing themselves to act before they lose their nerve.
“Can we, uhm… Talk?” His voice comes low, rough, uncertain.
Pomni’s lips part, but no sound comes out at first. All those ugly feelings from their fight come clawing up her throat—the sting of his words, the cold look in his eyes when he said they were never friends. She wants to tell him no. She wants to shove him away the same way he shoved her.
But when she finally exhales, what comes out is:
“… Yeah. Sure.”
For a split second, relief flashes in his eyes. His gaze flicks almost instinctively toward Zooble, who’s seated across the table, and then back to Pomni. He nods once, taking a careful step back to give her room to stand.
Neither of them says anything to the others as they leave the table, but Pomni can feel Ragatha and Gangle’s eyes following her. She keeps her arms wrapped tight around herself as they weave through the crowd and out into the hallway, the sound of music and laughter fading behind them.
Jax leads, silent, jaw working as if he’s chewing over every word in his head. He rounds a corner and stops near a cracked-open door—inside, a dark lecture hall sits empty, rows of chairs illuminated only by the dim glow of the moonlight outside.
Pomni leans against the wall just outside, arms crossed firmly over her chest. “Well?” she presses, narrowing her eyes at him. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
He doesn’t look at her. His gaze darts off to the side, down the hallway, anywhere but her face. The silence stretches unbearably long until he groans, dragging both hands through his hair in frustration.
“I—” His voice catches. He swallows, tries again. “I’m… Sorry.”
Pomni drops her arms to her sides, but her frown doesn’t budge. “For what?”
Finally, he steps closer, and when his eyes meet hers, the sheer devastation in them makes her chest ache.
“For saying we were never friends.” His voice trembles, thick with the tears threatening to spill. “I didn’t mean it. I didn't mean anything. I was just… Scared.”
Her breath stutters. “… Scared of what?” she whispers, though she already suspects the answer.
“That you’re going to leave—” His chest rises and falls sharply as if the words themselves hurt to say. “That’s why I pushed you away. I heard you talking about leaving, and it was like—” He presses a hand flat to his chest, over his heart, voice breaking. “Like something was ripping me apart from the inside. This horrible, crushing feeling that you’d be gone, and I… I couldn’t handle it.”
“Jax—” she begins softly, but her words die in her throat.
Because suddenly, he drops.
He sinks to his knees in front of her, arms wrapping tightly around her waist, his forehead pressing against her sternum. The weight of him steals her breath. His voice comes out broken, raw, muffled against her shirt.
“I’m sorry for shoving you. I'm sorry for making you cry. I’m just… So sorry, Pomni.” He tilts his head up, eyes wet, lashes clumped with tears as he gazes at her like she’s the only thing tethering him to the world.
Pomni freezes, her own heart pounding so hard she swears he can feel it where his head rests against her chest.
“What… what do you mean?” Pomni’s voice is thin, unsteady. Her hands hover awkwardly in the air, fingers twitching like they’re caught between pushing him away and holding him close. She doesn’t know where to touch, doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do with him on his knees like this, clutching her as though she’ll disappear if he lets go.
Jax blinks slowly up at her, his arms tightening around her waist in a desperate squeeze. His voice comes soft—cracked open and bare.
“I like you.”
The words don’t register at first. They clang around in Pomni’s head.
Her brain short circuits.
“What?” she blurts out, her pulse hammering so hard she can feel it in her throat.
He swallows, eyes fixed on her like she’s the only thing keeping him upright. “I’ve liked you ever since you invited me to study with you,” he whispers. His lip piercings catch the low light as he speaks, and absurdly, all Pomni can do is focus on them—those stupid, distracting, infuriating lip piercings.
Something in her snaps.
Her hands finally move, plunging into his hair, dragging her fingers roughly through the strands as if to ground herself. With a sharp tug, she pulls him upward, his body following hers like he’s powerless to resist. Their faces hover so close—only centimeters apart—their breaths mingle.
“You really like me?” she mumbles, her lips brushing his with each syllable, each word grazing him like a tease she doesn’t fully mean to make.
Jax’s eyes are half-lidded, glazed with something soft and aching, his chest heaving against hers. He nods quickly, almost desperately, and the sound that slips from him is half-whimper, half-plea.
“God, yes.”
And just like that—
Their mouths collide.
The kiss isn’t neat, isn’t careful—it’s messy and crushing and frantic, a release of everything unsaid, everything held back. He tastes like warmth and salt. His hands clutch her tighter, hauling her closer as if he could mold her into him, and Pomni clings back.
The world narrows to this: his lips, his breath, the dizzying heat of him pressed flush against her.
And for the first time all night, Pomni stops thinking. She just feels.
She fists her hands tighter in Jax’s hair, pulling his head back just enough to bite at his lower lip—where those infuriating piercings are—before dragging him in again. He groans against her mouth, the sound muffled, vibrating through her chest, and it only makes her kiss him harder.
Jax hands are everywhere—gripping her waist, sliding up her sides, one pressing at her back like he’s terrified she’ll slip away if he loosens his hold for even a second. He kisses her with all that fear, all that need, spilling it into her like he doesn’t know how else to show it.
Pomni breaks away for half a second, breath ragged, forehead pressed to his. “You’re insane,” she pants, her lips swollen, trembling.
“Yeah,” Jax rasps back, voice low, eyes dark and glassy. His thumb brushes her hipbone through the fabric of her pants, rough and shaking. “I’m insane for you.”
Before she can retort, he surges up again, capturing her mouth in another bruising kiss. This one is harsher, more frantic, like if he doesn’t taste every part of her now he never will.
He’s trembling—she feels it—but he’s relentless, pouring every ounce of fear, longing, and apology into each press of his lips.
Pomni clings just as desperately, her nails digging into his shoulders through his suit jacket. She can’t stop herself. Doesn’t want to. The heat curling in her stomach, the rush of adrenaline in her veins—it’s too much, too consuming.
He pulls back, lips dragging against the curve of her throat, voice low and breathless. “I’m going to pick you up.”
Pomni barely has time to react before his hands slide down, gripping her thighs with a firm, shaky hold. In one swift motion, he hauls her up as he pushes off the floor. A gasp slips out of her throat, instinct taking over as her legs hook tight around his waist, ankles locking behind him.
He buries his face in her neck, pressing feverish kisses along her pulse as he carries her toward the open lecture hall door. His steps are hurried, uneven.
Inside, his gaze darts around, wild and urgent, before he zeroes in on the teacher’s desk at the front. He sets her down there, sweeping aside a few loose papers with a hand.
And then his mouth is on hers again, crashing, claiming, stealing the breath from her lungs.
“Oh, fuck—” Pomni moans against him, the sound muffled, needy. Her fingers claw their way up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair to drag him even closer, as if the space between them is unbearable.
It’s hot—too hot, her skin prickling beneath her clothes. She breaks from his lips just long enough to yank her suit jacket off, tossing it blindly aside. Her mouth finds the line of his jaw, her lips and teeth working against it in frantic bursts.
“Take your jacket off,” she demands against his skin, her voice ragged, almost a growl. Her hands are already on him, tugging at the lapels of his own suit jacket, shoving it down his arms in clumsy urgency.
He lets out a strangled laugh, half disbelieving, half desperate, before shrugging out of it with her help. The jacket hits the floor. And then his hands are back on her.
His hands cling to her hips, dragging her toward the very edge of the desk until she’s teetering. Then, slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact.
Pomni’s chest tightens at the sight—him kneeling before her like this. Her fingers slide into his hair almost instinctively, tugging lightly as she parts her legs just enough for him to rest his head against her thigh.
“I want you. I need you so bad,” Jax whimpers, his voice hoarse, eyes glassy with want.
Pomni’s breath stutters. She cups his cheek, thumb brushing his skin. “I know. I do too… But we can’t do anything here.”
Jax groans, tipping his head back with a soft thud against her leg, eyes squeezing shut. “Why? We’ll close the door, lock it—hell, we’ll go all the way to the back so no one sees us.”
Her lips twitch into a laugh, though her pulse is hammering. “That’s not exactly… Romantic.”
He doesn’t seem to care. His mouth drifts lower, planting kisses along the inside of her thighs, hands sliding up and down her sides like he’s memorizing her shape.
“You look amazing,” he murmurs against her, a small, crooked smile breaking through.
Pomni lets out a shaky chuckle. “Compliments will get you nowhere.”
“Worth a shot,” Jax breathes, his fingers edging dangerously close to the fly of her pants, brushing teasingly against the fabric.
Her breath hitches, but she snaps her hand around his wrist, halting him. “Nuh-uh. Not here.”
“Pomni…” The way he moans her name—drawn-out, pleading, dripping with need—makes heat coil and twist violently in her stomach.
“Jax…” she moans back without meaning to, her free hand yanking on his tie, dragging him up to her mouth. Their lips crash together again, feverish and sloppy, his whimpers of her name spilling into every breath between kisses. It almost breaks her resolve, almost undoes her completely—
So she tears away, gasping, and slaps a hand gently but firmly over his mouth.
“Shh…” Her breaths come ragged, her chest rising and falling against his. “Stop making those noises—you’re driving me insane.”
For a moment, silence hangs heavy between them, broken only by the sharp rhythm of their breathing. Then, slowly, he pries her hand from his lips, holding it loosely in his own.
“Let’s leave,” Jax murmurs, voice trembling but determined. “Let’s go to your dorm.”
Pomni shakes her head, reality crashing back in jagged shards. “What about the awards ceremony?”
He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice raw and rough.
“Fuck the awards ceremony.”
And Pomni almost gives in right then and there—his breath warm on her ear, his hands still holding her like she’s the only thing keeping him steady.
But then, from beyond the lecture hall, the music suddenly cuts off. A microphone crackles to life, the sharp sound echoing through the walls.
Pomni groans, shoving Jax’s face gently away from hers. “They’re starting.”
Jax huffs, lips twisting into a pout as he leans down to grab his suit jacket. “You’re lame,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to it.
Pomni hops down from the desk, her legs wobbling slightly beneath her. She steadies herself quickly, though the flush on her face betrays her. When she turns, she catches sight of Jax adjusting himself in his pants, and her breath hitches.
Heat flares in her cheeks in an instant. She spins around fast, fumbling with her own jacket and yanking it on in record time.
“Ready?” Jax asks, striding toward her, running both hands through his hair in a hopeless attempt to tame it. Stray strands stick up rebelliously, framing his face in a way that’s unfairly attractive.
It’s a lost cause, and Pomni has to bite back a smile. She smooths her jacket down, and fixes her own hair. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
But as she steps toward the door, his hand suddenly wraps around her wrist.
She freezes, heart jolting as she turns to face him. “What?”
“Are we—” Jax starts, then falters. He stares at her, brows knit, lips pressing together in frustration. “What are… No. Uh—” He lets go of her wrist, his frown deepening. “Fuck, this is hard.”
Pomni finally realizes what he’s struggling to say, and her face softens. A crooked smile tugs at her lips as she steps closer.
“Lean down a bit,” she tells him gently.
Confusion flickers in his eyes, but he obeys, lowering his head until they’re almost level.
Pomni cups his face between her palms, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones, and presses a small, firm kiss to his lips.
When she pulls back, her gaze locks with his, steady and sure. “Yes, Jax, we’re together. Unless you don’t want—”
“Yes! I do!” he blurts out, way too fast, way too loud. His voice echoes in the empty lecture hall.
Pomni can’t help it—she laughs, a soft, bubbling giggle spilling out of her chest.
“Then there’s your answer,” she says, eyes bright as she smooths her hands down his suit lapels.
Pomni threads her fingers through Jax’s, giving his hand a firm squeeze before tugging him toward the door. “Now let’s go, or else Ragatha’s going to get mad at both of us.”
At the mere mention of Ragatha, a visible shudder runs through Jax’s frame. “Don’t mention her after what we just did.”
Pomni snorts, rolling her eyes as they step back into the hallway and round the corner toward the main event space. The muffled chatter and clinking glasses grow louder with each step. “You’re about to see her anyway. Honestly, I think that’s way worse.”
“I don’t want to see her either,” Jax grumbles under his breath, already narrowing his eyes as their table comes into view across the crowded room.
Pomni gives him a sidelong look, lips tugging into a smirk. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Yeah…” Jax drawls, leaning in just slightly so only she can hear him. His smirk mirrors hers, cocky and soft all at once. “But I’m your asshole.”
Pomni’s chest tightens in the best way. Her lips curve into a smile she couldn’t stop even if she tried, her heart full to the brim as she squeezes his hand once more.
“That you are.”
Notes:
If any of you have watched gossip girl y'all know that one photoshoot Leighton and Ed (Blair and Chucks actors) did where Ed is on his knees looking up at Leighton and the other one where he has his head on her thigh, I can imagine Pomni and Jax doing that.
If y'all have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about just search up Elle Korea Magazine 2009 Blair and Chuck photoshoot and you'll see the vision.
Also if anyone wants to know: the song Zooble and Jax danced to is Propuesta Indecente by Romeo Santos.
Also, quick question:
Who wants a beach chapter?!