Chapter Text
we're singing, you
whatever you think of me
if you were in my shoes, would you walk that mile?
oh you could put it on the other foot, it's the same size
- laplaces angel, will wood
[]
Jax once promised to take Ribbit to the moon.
It was a joke, really. Caine had sent them on a space adventure that day, on some sort of mission to retrieve an artefact from Mars. Ribbit had been staring out of the window, gazing at the stars outside with eyes bright enough to compete with them.
Jax had said, "you like those stars, Froggy?", to which Ribbit nodded, taking it as an opportunity to talk about everything he knew about stars.
“I'll take you to the moon, one day," Jax had teased, with his default grin on his face. "Prommy."
[]
Which is why Jax is sat on the edge of a roof, staring up at the stars with a different kind of wonder. It's cold outside, and the hoodie that he's wearing isn't doing much to block out the wind. It's autumn, and the wind is crisp and biting, stinging his lungs. He can't even remember how he got here.
Autumn is always hard, and it probably always will be. Always. For the rest of his life, this is going to haunt him. Hang over his head like an invisible reminder that just won't go away. Ribbit abstracted in October, if Caine's Digital Calendar was right. This time 4 years ago, Jax lost half of himself.
(The other half is rotten and wilted and begging to go too.)
It's been about 18 months since they all escaped the Circus. Somehow, by some sort of luck, they all managed to make it out alive. Well, other than Caine, but he was never really alive in the first place, being an AI. It took them all a while to find each other with how large the US is. Plus, they all have strikingly different backgrounds.
Turns out, Ragatha really is rich. Not as in a millionaire, but she definitely has enough to go around. She's helping to pay his rent, which Jax was forced into agreement with because he is not a charity case. They all live in the same apartment complex, almost like that one show that Pomni watches. What's it's name? Friends? Something like that.
So, yeah. Jax has a home, a bed, and a part-time job at the nearest Walmart (score!). Ragatha's apartment is the one next to his, whilst Pomni, Kinger, Gangle, and Zooble's are the ones opposite him. Gangle and Zooble live together now, as expected. Pomni is on one side of their apartment and Kinger's is on the other.
Zooble has gone back to bartending, though they still occasionally give tattoo's out. Gangle has gone back into her little art thing that she had going on before the circus. Her drawings are hung up around the bar her partner works at, and all around their home too. She even made Jax a few.
Kinger, surprisingly saner than he was in the Circus, teaches computer science at the local high school. He has a pet praying mantis called Marsha. She's pretty cool. He's surprisingly good at cooking, so he's always the one that cooks if they decide to have dinner. If Jax shows up, he helps with the cooking too. He's always been good at it.
And as for Pomni, she kind of helped him get his job. And they kind of have something going on. It's not serious, no one's getting down on one knee or anything, it's just.. for fun, maybe. It doesn't matter. He's way too tired to commit his non-existent energy to another living, breathing person.
In hindsight; if it wasn't for the people that should hate him, Jax would be dead. Or homeless. And he tried so, so hard to get them to give up on him. They dragged him into their little found family and he was kicking and screaming the whole time, but by now, he's learned to just get on with life. They'll give up eventually, they have to.
The cold seeps into his bones, freezing him numb to his core. He wonders what place Ribbit would take in this little family. They'd definitely be living together as platonic roommates, and Ribbit was a cat person, so they'd have a cat. Jax would adopt Ribbit as his brother, if that's even possible. He'd make it happen. He'd find a way.
What are you meant to do when you lose the other half of your soul? Even if Jax doesn't do sappy stuff, him and Ribbit were platonic soulmates, and he won't be told otherwise. They were one split in two. Two sides of the same coin. The same person in a different font. The Funny One and the Fearless One. Do not separate.
So why did abstraction have to actually mean death? When he first escaped, a small part of him hoped that abstraction just meant you were dead in the Circus. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, he'd stumble upon his little froggy friend in the real world. He was foolish to even think about it.
A shooting star. Is there an afterlife? And if there is, is Ribbit there? It would be just Jax's luck to fall to his death and not even see his best friend in the afterlife. He shivers and looks at the ground below. It wouldn't hurt, and it'd all be over. It's the better option. Way less pain, a lot more nothingness. Win win.
He doesn't get up. He doesn't want to die. He's never really been too keep on living either, to be honest. He remembers being 15, sleeping on the streets, and wondering "what is the point of me being here at all?". Nothing would change for the worse. Things would get better, actually. No one would have to deal with someone like him again. No one would be forced to put up with him.
Jax tried. He really did. He's wanted to get better at being human for the last year or so. But no matter what he does, nothing seems to work. He still gets a concerned look from Ragatha whenever he makes a joke that's a tad too mean, Zooble still doesn't like him talking to Gangle, Kinger looks at him with pity, and he's pretty sure Pomni wants to give up on him, but doesn't have the heart to.
And he can only blame himself. He's trapped himself in his own little hand-made Hell, so no one else has to deal with him. He's clawed at the bars of his prison, trying to get out, to see clearly for once in his life, but it's so damn hard and he's so fucking exhausted. He doesn't deserve to be free.
A person like him just doesn't deserve to live.
Jax runs a shaking hand through his already messy hair, groaning quietly. He hasn't bothered to dye it for a few weeks, so his dark brown roots are on show. He's been too tired. Has he mentioned that he's tired yet?
A part of him wants to just close his eyes and fall asleep here. It'd look like an accident. He'd fall off the roof and die and no one would ever know for sure if that was the intention. He doesn't want to die, he just wants to sleep. He's so tired. He closed his eyes and lets himself start to drift.
A hand on Jax's shoulder wakes him back up. He opens his eyes and blinks, choosing not to look up at whoever had the misfortune of finding him like this. Why can't he just be left to die in peace? Guess he doesn't deserve that.
"Jax." Eugh boy, why Ragatha? Now he's going to have her on his ass about emotions and whatever. Gross mushy stuff. He shrugs her hand off of his shoulder, grumbling quietly.
"What are you doing out here? It's freezing!" Ragatha exclaims, and Jax almost feels bad. Why? He has no idea. She just sounds so worried. There's a small shake to her voice that triggers a reaction in his brain. It's like slamming a door in her face.
She says something else, but he doesn't hear or register it. It doesn't even go into one ear, let alone out of the other.
Blink and you miss it. Jax is on his feet and walking down the stairs, Ragatha leading him. Holding his hand in her own warm, painfully soft one. She isn't talking. Her bouncy red curls are tied back in a messy braid, and she has comfy clothes on. How late is it? He can't remember how long he sat on that roof. It doesn't matter.
They don't end up at Jax's flat. Instead, for some odd reason, Ragatha takes him to hers instead. Maybe she's caught on. He can hear her sniffling if he listens hard enough.
It's so warm inside her apartment. You'd think that she'd just buy a big house where all of them could live with her amount of money, but no. Jax wouldn't want to live in a house with everyone anyways. Too much work.
Ragatha's talking to him again. He doesn't bother to listen, moving on autopilot as she guides him to sit down on the couch. Soft. Too soft for him to sit on. He wants to run away, but she's still holding his hand. And rubbing his back. When did that start?
"You're going to have to sleep on the couch. I'm sorry." Jax hears her say, to which he doesn't answer. He doesn't understand why she's apologising.
It's a while before Ragatha leaves him alone. Maybe 30 minutes? He's laying down now, curled up underneath a blanket and staring at the blank TV screen. Even with how warm it is, he can't stop shivering. He's cold down to the marrow of his bones, and he has been for a long time. The fire in him went out when Ribbit died.
Maybe, if he pretends hard enough, he'll start believing he's dead. Maybe that would make things easier.
Jax curls up even more and shuts his eyes. He listens to the cars outside and imagines getting hit by one.
He doesn't have any dreams when he falls asleep.