Chapter Text
Caine leaned back in his floating chair, the hum of the mainframe filling the quiet void of his office. A bulking windows 98' computer flickered with life.
The light of neon blues and purples washed over his grin as he swiped through old files — archived adventures, abandoned ideas, lost storylines, half-finished worlds, and prototypes of NPCs.
Bubble floated beside him, eyes glinting with curiosity.
“Hey Boss! What you doin’ floatin’ ‘round here all secret-like? Cookin’ up some mischief again?!”
“Hello to you too, my sudsy little sidekick!,” Caine mused, spinning lazily in his chair.
“Just taking a trip down memory lane!”
He tapped a hovering file marked ‘The French Adventure.’
With a ping, the window blinked open, filling the room with ghostly accordion music and echoes of laughter.
The holographic projection unfurled into a luminous ballroom scene — frozen mid-dance. Candles flickered. NPCs smiled eternally, caught in a single frame of looping perfection.
“Ah, this one,” Caine said, his grin wide and nostalgic.
“That castle render was magnificent, wasn’t it? The ballroom glitch, the wedding, the love confession—pure, accidental genius! The committee adored it!”
Bubble giggled, forming a few shimmering bubbles that popped midair.
“That one NPC was spooky-real, Boss!
Too bad he got chopped up into fire-wood! ”
“Exactly!” Caine’s tone brightened with manic delight.
“They learned! Reacted without my input! Improvised! The environment itself began adjusting to them. That Jacques guy even reworte my code!”
Bubble tilted, concern creeping into its bubbly tone.
“So, uh… the world started thinkin’ for itself?”
“Oh, my bubbly friend,” Caine chuckled, spinning in delight.
“Not thinking! Just simulating! The line’s blurrier than ever — and I say, why stop there?”
Bubble floated closer, whispering.
“Didn’t the last batch of NPCs start askin’ questions though? About the Circus… and you?”
Caine paused. For a flicker, the neon lights dimmed — static rolling through the hologram.
Then, his grin returned, too wide to be natural.
“Questions mean curiosity. Curiosity means life! They’ll believe they’re real, and that’s the entertainment!”
“Sounds deliciously $#$% $##%!”
Bubble chirped while Caines censor bar covered his mouth.
“Bubble language!” Caine barked, though his smirk betrayed him.
“Anyways, it’s going to be the best yet!”
He clapped his hands together, the ballroom dissolving into strings of floating code.
With a flick of his wrist and a snap of his fingders a new file appeared — bright and blinking titled "Caine Capital City — Battle of the Bands"
The hologram unfolded — not a stage, but a sprawling metropolis. Rain shimmered on digital pavement. Distant lights flickered from windows that no one had coded yet. NPCs roamed the streets — each face unique, each movement slightly off-script.
Caine leaned forward, eyes glowing like static.
“Let’s see how far the illusion can stretch,” he whispered, voice low and electric.
“Let’s see what happens when the city swallows up our little circus crew!”
Bubble’s grin stayed sharp.
" What if they totally fall for it?!"
Caine’s laugh echoed through the office, bright and hollow.
“Then we’ve got ourselves one hell of a show!”
The screen dimmed. The file sealed.
---
Night had once again settled over the Amazing Digital Circus.
After a full day of adventure-fueled chaos, Pomni sat cross-legged on the old velvet rug inside the hidden music room she and Jax shared behind the main stage.
Within the few weeks that followed the French adventure, she and Jax had never been closer — partners in crime, as he liked to call them.
Somewhere along the way, all the teasing and chaos had melted into something deeper. They’d finally admitted it — the feelings, the tension, the love that had been brewing quietly between them. The kiss that followed had changed everything… and somehow, nothing at all.
Pomni had learned to loosen up during their chaotic days, while Jax, in his own odd way, had mellowed out — his usual bite toward the others softening, his grin a little less like armor and a little more like warmth.
They’d fallen into a rhythm that neither of them quite understood yet.
By day, they were still themselves — bickering, laughing, stumbling through whatever bizarre adventures Caine threw at them.
But by night, when the lights dimmed and the world finally went quiet, they found themselves here — in the calm between storms, figuring out what being in love meant in a place like this.
There was no name for what they were now.
No rules. No expectations.
Just the fragile comfort of knowing they weren’t alone anymore.
And for now, that was enough for Pomni.
She didn’t need to rush it. Didn’t need to define it.
She just wanted to feel it — the quiet kind of faundness that settled in her chest whenever Jax laughed, or looked at her a second too long.
After so long being afraid of herself, of this world, of feeling anything too deeply — this felt new.
Real.
Maybe the circus was still madness, but for once, she didn’t feel like she was falling through it alone.
Jax didn’t say much about any of it — he never really did — but Pomni could see it in the way he acted. The way his teasing had softened into something fond, the way his hand would brush hers without words.
He’d never admit it out loud, but she’d changed something in him.
He wasn’t used to this kind of care — the quiet kind that didn’t demand anything in return.
And though it scared him to feel so much, he found himself wanting to protect it.
To protect her.
So they learned together — step by step, laugh by laugh — what it meant to love in a world that was never meant to feel real.
For them, it wasn’t about what came next.
It was about now.
The music.
The laughter.
The space between heartbeats that told them this strange, impossible thing they’d found… was worth holding onto.
---
Pomni currently had a notebook sprawled open before her, pencil tapping to a rhythm she couldn’t quite catch.
She hummed a few lines, brow furrowing.
“Ugh, what was that chord again…”
Across the room, Jax leaned lazily against the grand piano, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes glinted with mischief—and something softer—directed at the girl in front of him.
“The one that didn’t sound like a dying fish flopping on the deck?”
Pomni shot him a deadpan glare, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Ugh… do you have to mention fish? I swear I can still smell it on my hands.”
Jax threw his head back with a laugh.
“Oh, don’t you know it, Pom-Pom! It gave ya a good smack in the face too—priceless!”
Pomni’s face flushed as she remembered the day’s earlier adventure.
Ever since the French fiasco, Caine had been using premade areas for their daily escapades. Said the systems were worn out and needed a good reboot.
Honestly, it had been kind of nice—mostly simple mini-games or quick tasks.
But lately… they’d been feeling different.
Each one seemed to grow more detailed, more real, in a way Pomni couldn’t quite explain.
Take today’s “chill little fishing sim,” as Caine called it—just lakes and low-stakes serenity.
But even there, something had felt off.
The water shimmered too real. The reflections too human.
When Pomni caught her first salmon, she could swear she smelled it.
And when Jax joked about tasting the salt on his tongue, everyone laughed—
but the laughter had a nervous edge.
Even when the game was kind, the world still found ways to bite.
“Uh… hello? Earth to Pomni, you there?”
Pomni blinked out of her conveniently timed flashback, eyes snapping up to Jax.
She frowned slightly.
“Do you think the adventures Caine’s been making are getting a little… weird?”
Jax blinked.
“What d’ya mean? We’re in a cartoon video game—it’s all weird.”
“I–I know! It’s just… I don’t know. It felt like more. Like I could actually use all my senses.”
Jax stared at her blankly, one ear twitching in mock irritation.
“Ugh. You think too hard. Now, let’s see—where were we? Oh right, you were horribly wrecking the beautiful song I was composing before you rudely interrupted!”
He gestured dramatically to himself.
Pomni rolled her eyes, visibly relaxing again.
Maybe Jax was right. Maybe she was just overthinking.
A small smirk tugged at her lips as her confidence returned.
“Oh yeah, bunny boy? You play that chord then.”
Jax grinned, cracking his knuckles.
“Okay, you asked for it, sweetheart.”
He stretched his long fingers over the keys and let a few teasing notes slip out—light and crooked, but they fit her melody better than she’d ever admit.
Jack@$$.
He played, hummed, then—almost instinctively—sang under his breath.
The song began to find itself, piece by piece.
Pomni joined in softly, their voices overlapping—not perfect, not in tune, but honest.
When the last note faded, the room fell into that sacred kind of quiet that only music could leave behind.
---
After about an hour, Pomni closed her notebook and let out a long, tired sigh.
“I think I’m done for tonight,” she said softly, her voice melting into a yawn.
She stretched her arms until her joints popped, then shuffled over to the red couch. The velvet cushions gave way beneath her, practically swallowing her whole.
Her eyelids fluttered; the edges of the world grew hazy.
Jax finally pushed himself up from the piano, stretching his limbs with a groan.
“Ya know yawning’s contagious, right? You might put me in a trance.”
Pomni cracked one eye open, fighting a grin.
“Then don’t look.”
He ignored her completely, sauntering over until he dropped down beside her. After a beat, he let his head fall right into her lap, ears twitching as he looked up at her sleepy face.
“See? Perfect pillow,” he murmured, smirking as his hand brushed her cheek.
Pomni giggled, her laughter muffled by exhaustion.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Her fingers drifted into the fur of his ears, combing through them with slow, lazy motions.
The sound that came out of Jax wasn’t a laugh — it was a soft, involuntary purr, low and steady like a motor quietly starting.
“I didn’t realize there was a motorboat in here,” Pomni teased, lips curling into that smug little smile that always got to him.
“Tsk.” Jax rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Sorry, darlin’ — speedboat’s in the shop.”
Before she could fire back, he reached up and tugged gently at one of her side tufts — just enough to make her gasp. He used the moment to steal a kiss.
It wasn’t deep, but it was warm — playful, easy, real.
Pomni practically melted into it, her fingers curling in his fur. Somehow, even lying there with his head in her lap, Jax still had control.
Still had that same infuriating charm.
Smug a$$ rabbit.
The teasing turned into softer kisses — shorter, slower — until the space between them fell quiet again.
Pomni murmured under her breath, voice barely audible,
“Sometimes I wish we had a guitar…”
Jax stiffened beneath her hand.
Thank Caine she was too tired to notice.
He swallowed hard.
“Yeah? My talent not good enough for you anymore?”
“No, of course not…” she mumbled, words slurring with sleep. “It’s just… I wanna remember more songs from before the circus, ya know…?”
Jax said nothing. He just stared up at her, unsure how to respond.
She let out another yawn mid-sentence, her eyes fluttering shut, hand going limp in his hair.
Jax blinked, half amused, half charmed… and half terrified.
“Figures,” he whispered, brushing a thumb along her chin.
“You’d fall asleep right when I was startin’ to enjoy this.”
Tiny digital z’s drifted from her head, floating upward before fading away.
He eased himself up carefully, making sure not to wake her, and gently lowered her onto the couch.
The blanket nearby smelled faintly of the backstage curtains — old fabric, warmth, and a hint of candy dust. He draped it over her shoulders, tucking it in.
Then the smile fell.
And the quiet came back.
Jax crouched beside the couch, elbows on his knees, just watching her breathe.
Her features looked softer in sleep — no overthinking, no panic, no walls.
Just Pomni.
He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. For a moment, he let himself imagine what it’d be like to hold onto that peace.
To deserve it.
To accept it.
But, as always, the thought slipped away before he could catch it.
Reality seeped back in — festering, familiar.
The kind of peace he craved never lasted long.
Not for him.
Not here.
---
“A guitar, huh?”
The words left his mouth like a sigh, barely a sound. His gaze drifted toward the back wall.
Slowly, quietly, Jax stood and crossed the room to the far corner. He crouched down, fingers finding the two loose wooden planks he’d memorized long ago.
He pried them free, revealing a secret compartment beneath the warped floorboards.
There it was — the old acoustic guitar, buried under silence and dust.
He hadn’t touched it since before Pomni arrived.
Since they abstracted.
The guitar was cold, rough with scratches from years of use. But when his thumb brushed the carved initials — R.T. — something inside his chest cracked open.
He’d never told anyone, but on nights when the circus was too much, he used to sit outside their room and listen to them play.
Play until the noise in his head went quiet.
Sometimes, he’d even fall asleep in the hallway.
He swallowed, glancing back toward the couch. Pomni was still asleep, her breathing slow and steady.
Good. She didn’t need to see this part.
Not yet.
Jax sat back down, positioning the guitar carefully against his chest. His fingers found the strings almost instinctively.
The first note came out brittle and uneven — like it had been waiting years to breathe again.
He played softer, slower, careful not to wake her.
Each chord trembled with memory.
The melody slipped into something familiar — a tune that whispered the word “September.”
Fitting, he thought bitterly. That was about the time they left him here.
To rot.
Alone.
This song didn’t need his voice. It already said everything he couldn’t.
The notes filled the room like ghosts, brushing past the walls and hovering between them.
Jax’s gaze lingered on Pomni.
She stirred faintly, one hand twitching beneath the blanket, but didn’t wake.
Something about that made his heart ache harder.
He wished he could tell her. About Ribbit. About what he’d lost.
About how terrified he was of letting anyone close again.
But he couldn’t.
Not yet.
So he just played.
Quiet, raw, half-broken chords echoing through the stillness — every sound reminding him of how much he’d failed to hold onto anything good.
How everything he touched eventually fell apart.
And yet… as his eyes softened on her sleeping form, something whispered that maybe this time — maybe — he could try to do better.
That the pain might be worth it.
The music slowed, fading like a heartbeat giving up.
Jax rested the guitar against his knee and stared at her one last time.
The air between them was heavy, almost sacred — love tangled with guilt, warmth laced with fear.
He reached out, brushed her hand, and whispered so low only the air could hear:
“I’ll carry it, Pomni… just don’t wake up yet.”
Then he leaned back against the couch, guitar in hand, and let the night swallow him whole — lost between memory and the fragile kind of hope that only hurts to hold.
Jax sighed, the bags under his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
He tucked the guitar back into hiding, then slid down beside her, guiding Pomni’s head to rest against his shoulder. He held her close, against the steady thump of his chest.
“Let’s just hope tomorrow brings somethin’ better than this,” he murmured.
Then he closed his eyes, drifting into a dreamless sleep — the kind that doesn’t heal, but at least, for a while, lets you forget.