Chapter Text
The sound of running water was quickly drowned out by a sharp, constant ringing in the ears and muffled heavy breathing. Jax's grip on the porcelain sink tightened as his vision blurred, hoping the feeling of something solid in his hands would ground him back to reality. His soft, cartoonish gloves made it hard to feel anything, but the freezing temperature of the sink had slowly started creeping through the fabric, giving him something to focus on besides the voices in his head.
“This is what you wanted, right?”
“You're not going to look me in the eye and tell me nothing we've been doing together meant anything to you, because I know that's not true.”
“To push her away?”
“You're reached out to me, not the other way around.”
“You push everyone away.”
“You're scared you'll actual show a human emotion.”
“Not because you're scared.”
“Have you ever though that might be what causes people to abstract in the first place?”
“Because you don't deserve their friendship.”
“What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?”
“Why would anyone care about you, anyway?”
“Why didn't you fight back?”
“You are all you have.”
The ringing in Jax's gigantic rabbit ears slowly subsided, as did the voices. He felt the tightness in his chest start to loosen slowly, like knotted up shoestrings that were finally tugged in the right spot. The metaphorical sneakers are still a mess to look at and unwearable due to how tight the strings squeeze the bridge of the foot, but they're loose enough to finally kick off and not think about for a while.
Jax tilts his head up to the dirty mirror before him, blinking wearily at it. For a moment, he expects to see brown hair, a hooked nose, tired yellow-brown eyes…
… Nope. A purple rabbit stares back at him. The purple rabbit avatar he's been stuck in for what's probably been years. He tries not to think about that part, instead focusing on his black and yellow eyes, and the little frown on his face.
“God, you look stupid,” he mutters to himself. “God, I FEEL stupid,” he thinks more quietly, as flashbacks of Pomni staring up at him from the floor replay in his mind. He can't help but remember how crumpled and defeated her body language was, but how her red and blue eyes looked at him softly. Sympathetically. Knowingly. It made him want to throw up. It made him want to punch something— Anything but her. Jax couldn't lay a hand on her if he wanted to (and, he'd never admit it, he doesn't want to, either. His violent tendencies towards her had dissipated a while ago, exactly when he can't remember).
He's barely paying attention when Disappearing Guy walks out of the bathroom stall, more annoyed that his panic attack (borderline abstraction? They happened so often he wasn't sure what to call it) wasn't as “private” as he would've liked it to be. Jax let out another deep breath, eyes closed, head rolled back, letting the memories of what he said to the jester he's been growing fond of recede into the back of his mind. As this happens, his shoulders drop and he feels that ever-familiar, [BEEP]-eating grin spread across his face. When his eyes open, his black pupils are wide again, and a light chuckle leaves the bunny's throat as he saunters out of the bathroom and back to the auditorium.
Pomni noticed when Jax angrily got up and left the auditorium. She had noticed his small pupils, his clenched right fist, the way he was still staring at his open left hand as he walked off. Something stirred in the pit of her stomach, rising up and becoming a solid little lump in the heart of her throat as she turned back to the stage, trying to listen as Caine rattled off awards in his typical, broadcast-announcer voice.
Beside her, Ragatha shifted, head craning down to whisper where Pomni's ears would be if her avatar had any. Her red, yarny hair swayed forward as she did the motion, and it hit one of Pomni's bells making it jingle. The sound snapped the brunette out of the trance she was starting to slip into.
“Everything okay?” the ragdoll asked, her voice soft and melodic.
Pomni, brows slanted and eyes clouded, shook her head slowly, ensuring the bells on her hat wouldn't ring as she did. Her voice was thick with concerns as she mumbled back, “I'm worried about Jax.”
Ragatha's eye softened for a moment, her smile small and unreadable. She turned to look back at the stage, attempting to mask the hurt look on her face (whether that pain was sympathy for Jax or upset that the focus wasn't on her, Pomni couldn't tell). Regardless, when the doll spoke, her voice was level and full of both wisdom and sorrow.
“He's always someone to worry about, whether it's out of compassion or fear,” she hums. “But as someone told me recently, sometimes it doesn't make sense to do the heavy lifting if the other person isn't in the mood.”
Suddenly, Caine's voice cuts through their hushed conversation, and a spotlight whips through the audience to point at Ragatha directly.
“And the winner of the Heart of Gold Award is… Ragatha!” the ringmaster cries cheerily, spinning his cane in a circle and pointing it at the woman made of yarn. Ragatha lets out a high-pitched “Oh– Oh!” and covers her mouth as a simulated applause soundtrack plays. Pomni claps weakly beside her, not sure if she should feel proud or embarrassed for her friend.
Once the spotlight swings back to the stage, Ragatha's shoulders drop and she looks down at Pomni, smiling weakly. “Sorry about that. What I was trying to say is, as long as you're there when he needs you, that's all that matters.”
Her gaze averts for a second, sharply, and one of her plush hands curls into a ball gripping a piece of her blue dress. “If he decides to come to you, that is.”
Pomni finally breaks her stare and turns back to the stage, watching Caine banter back and forth with Bubble for a moment. Under her breath, but loud enough for Ragatha to hear, she says “That's the part I'm worried about. He's probably not going to come to me at all.”
For a split second, she swears she feels the ragdoll's hand graze her own. “Well, if that's the case…” The redhead's voice is wobbly, unsure, but gentle. “What matters is that you tried.”
Pomni's mind starts to wander back to the argument she had with Jax thirty minutes before the show had begun. How he wouldn't physically hurt her. How even when he tried to emotionally hurt her, most of the words would pass through her. And his last words echoed in her mind, pleading not for her help, but for her to stay away.
“There's nothing more to me. So please, just stop looking.”
The jester stares down at her striped pants and mismatched gloves, hands clasped together tightly. She squeezed her own hands tightly, hearing a tiny, squeaking, rubbery noise as she did.
At that moment, she hears the auditorium doors creak open, and she spins around to peer over the seat at Jax as he re-enters the room. His demeanor is the opposite from when he left – Eyes closed, smile wide, one hand on his hip and the other in his pocket as he waltz back toward his seat. Seeing his mask is back on makes her grip on the seat behind her momentarily tighten, and she starts to chew on the inside of her cheek at the sight.
Pomni slinks back down into her seat and faces the front, hoping the concern she feels isn't showing obviously on her face. Ragatha gives her a knowing, worrying look, and Pomni quickly shakes her head to answer the unspoken question. Despite the feelings and anxiety squirming in her stomach, her mind is calm.
“For now, I'll respect his plea,” she thinks solemnly. “But by God, do I want to keep searching.”