Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Jax, I’m really not in the mood.”

“What? Whaddya mean you’re ‘not in the mood?’ You’re always in the mood!”

“God forbid I get tired of the same [SQUEAK]. Cut me some slack—”

“You seriously wanna sit around and do nothing?! C’mon, man, none of it’s real, anyway!”

“Jax—”

“You used to be fun! Now all you do is lounge around and let everyone else do the work! It’s really off-putting, y’know? What if you abstracted tomorrow, and the last thing you were doing was nothing?”

“...”

“Look—I’m gonna go and have some real fun. When you’re done being all gloomy and down in the dumps, you know where to find me.”

That had been hours ago, and the whole interaction had finally hit Jax like a freight train well into the late hours of the night. Instead of going out and causing some antics like he said he would, he’d gone to his room to blow off some steam and shake off the uneasiness Ribbit had been making him feel for the last couple of weeks now. It was frustrating, his best friend and partner in crime, suddenly not even wanting to cause some mischief, and had instead been complaining about every little thing and snapping at everyone for even breathing too loudly. He’s even been getting up later than usual, which should’ve been Jax’s first red flag, considering they had a routine of getting up early to set up a good-morning prank for the others.

Now, though, as Jax lay wide-awake on his digital, non-existent bed, he feels like the biggest jerk to ever exist.

Hindsight 20/20, Ribbit was spiraling . And Jax had just yelled at him as if it were his fault. The longer he thinks back on Ribbit’s declining attitude, the worse he feels. It’d been so obvious ; getting up later, their playful banter being less frequent, his exhausted sighs when Jax would try to pry him for more prank ideas, the way he had to be dragged through their adventures just to finish it—

The fact that it took Jax this long to realize that was the worst part. They were friends, yet Jax couldn’t even fathom the idea that his buddy could be anything but upbeat. Man , he was the worst.

‘I have to apologize,’ was the last thought Jax had before launching himself out of bed and out the door, not even bothering to shut it behind him. That wasn’t important, anyway. What was important was checking on his friend and doing what he should’ve been doing since day one. If he didn’t apologize, Ribbit would get the wrong impression, and then…

And then…

No, Jax wouldn’t allow it. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable it made him. Jax’s repulsion to negative emotions was not going to help any of them, and he refused to let it get in the way of their friendship for any longer. Ribbit clearly didn’t need the facade of pretending everything was okay.

No. He didn’t need Jax, the devious rabbit who’d grin through every adventure.

He needed Jax, the friend who should’ve shut up and listened .

The hallway was dark. Not dark enough that Jax couldn’t see, but that wouldn’t have been enough to stop him, anyway. He knew the path to Ribbit’s room as if it were his own, knew exactly how long to walk or run, knew the exact number of steps to get there, and knew exactly how many doors to pass to reach it. The corners of his vision felt fuzzy, wobbly, unreal , but the happy, chipper character plastered to Ribbit’s door was crystal clear, and stood only a couple of feet from his face in merely a few seconds.

Jax habitually reached for the doorknob to let himself in, like he always did, but suddenly held back. That probably wasn’t a good idea right now, was it?

“Ribbit?!” He called out instead, gasping, unconcerned about anyone else hearing him. The doors had weird properties to them: if you stood right outside one, then you could hear the other person on the outside but not the inside, but if you stood any further than a few feet from it, then they were pretty much soundproof both ways.

Jax stepped closer, just in case.

“Hey, uh… you—you home?” Silence. Absolutely nothing. [BOINK] , Jax wasn’t very good at this sort of stuff. What was he supposed to say? What would Ribbit even want to hear from him? He was probably overthinking this, but Jax really didn’t want to screw this up any more than he already had. “Look, uh… I… I might’ve been a bit… harsh , earlier. I—I realize that, now.”

Ribbit’s cartoony caricature on the door felt like it was mocking Jax. The flat eyes that were somehow staring at him, as if daring him to say the wrong thing—he looked down at his feet in mild shame, only to realize he was tapping his foot so fast it actually felt like his leg was cramping. He shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with himself.

“I mean—can you blame me? I’m just a simple guy who likes simple pleasures! They don’t hit the same without my SweetFrog® partner-in-crime by my side, y’know?” Jax forcefully chuckled, only to immediately wince afterwards. Okay, that was wrong. He was making jokes again, and he’s pretty sure that’s the last thing Ribbit needs right now. “No, look—uh…”

Fiddling with his hands, Jax inhaled, fighting every urge in his body telling him to run and forget about all this. To turn around and wait it out, to hope that this would resolve itself and he and Ribbit would go back to being the bestest of buds as if nothing were ever wrong.

But that wouldn’t work. Jax knows that. Finally, against his usual poor judgment, Jax forces himself to say it.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence, still. Jax can feel it starting to overwhelm his brain, and the words taste like acid in his throat, but he keeps going. He’d throw up the stupid words if it meant getting the point across to Ribbit.

“I… I haven’t been a good friend,” he licks his lips, but it does nothing. There’s no saliva, there’s never been saliva. Not even swallowing grants him any sort of relief, and that’s a joke that would’ve had Ribbit howling, usually. The thought leaves an even more bitter taste in his mouth. “I shouldn’t… you—you’re more than just… someone to cause havoc with. And I shouldn’t have… expected you to… to, uh, to only be that?” Jax’s heart is pounding out of his chest. He hates it because there’s nothing where his heart is, so Jax doesn’t know what the hell he’s hearing.

He leans closer to the door, still avoiding eye contact with the picture that felt far too judgmental for his taste. He presses a gloved hand to the fake wood, watching his finger feel along the design, hovering near the knob.

The silence lingers from the other side.

“It’s hard. I… I know that. I can’t even pretend like it isn’t.” The words feel so gross to him. Jax metaphorically sticks a finger down his throat. “But… but I have you. And you make it—make this, all of this —so much better to bear. I…” His throat grows hoarse. His eyes start to sting. The tears make Jax want to rip his eyes out, but he just grips his pant leg with one hand as the other stays glued to the door, the closest contact he has with Ribbit as of right now. “I dunno what I’d do without you.” He forces out, voice wobbly and barely reaching a normal talking level.

Jax purses his lips and cringes, ignoring the way his nerves want to crawl out of his skin, and focuses on listening for anything coming from Ribbit’s side of the door. It’s still quiet.

Unreasonably quiet.

That’s… not right.

Now that Jax is thinking about it, something in the air feels… wrong. He doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s like if someone took the embodiment of paranoia, then took away the very thing that made it paranoia, leaving behind a mess of buzzing nothingness with no way to cure it. Jax can’t help but look around, suddenly feeling like there were eyes on him, while at the same time feeling utterly and very alone.

“... Ribbit?”

It’s quiet.

“Heh… g—givin’ me the ol’ silent treatment, huh?” Jax forces himself to grin, but even he can feel how wobbly and crooked it spreads across his face. He can’t help but think that if this were real life, his voice would be echoing down the hall. It doesn’t. It falls flat almost the second it leaves his mouth.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

“O—okay, you made your point! C’mon, lemme in!” At long last, Jax reaches for the knob and twists.

It doesn’t move.

In the time he’s been stuck in this digital world, Jax feels cold. No, not cold— chilled . Down to the bone. Down to the very thing that doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s as if that chilled feeling is reverberating inside him, bouncing around his hollow interior and doubling at each point of contact.

“Rib—Ribbit? You, uh—you accidentally locked your door!” He chuckles, frantically twisting the knob clockwise and counter, over and over, shaking it, as if that would magically make the door open. It doesn’t.

This wasn’t right. Ribbit never locked his door at night, especially not on Jax!

“C’mon, don’t do this. I’ll—I’ll say it all again, to your face this time! Please! Just—just unlock—” The door wouldn’t budge. Ribbit wasn’t letting him in.

Jax felt like claws were digging into his chest from the inside. Desperation was like a noose around his neck, growing tighter and tighter the longer Jax stayed out in the hallway and Ribbit stayed inside his room, away from him .

Suddenly, Jax remembered he had a key .

With shaky hands that didn’t even feel like his own anymore, Jax quickly fumbled for the key he always carried in his pocket. The flat, yellow texture kept nearly slipping from his fingers at every grasp, and his hands were quivering so badly that it fell to the floor with an audible clink.

“ [JOINK] , just—shu—shut up! Hold on!” After a few tries, Jax successfully picked it up from the floor and scrambled to unlock the door, missing the hole a few times before managing to get it in.

With triumph, Jax pushed it open.

The door didn’t even move a centimeter before it bumped against something on the other side.

The grin on his face fell flat immediately. ‘He barricaded himself in??’ The thought of Ribbit actively trying to keep him out dug a hole in Jax. He pushed again, the door opening a fraction more as whatever was blocking it from the other side slid at the force. “O—okay! Okay! That’s okay! I see what you’re doing!” Jax forced another grin, stepping back to shove his shoulder against the door to open it more. It barely budged, but the fact that it still moved at all was enough motivation for Jax. “You’re making me— *BANG* —you’re making me work for it! *BANG* That’s okay! I’ll— *BANG* —I’ll work for it! Just lemme—” with one good bodyslam to the door, there was finally enough of a gap for Jax to at least peek into the room.

It was pitch black. Jax can’t recall a time Ribbit’s room had ever been that dark.

“He—hello? Ribbit~ I’ve come to formally apologize, like the good friend I am! If—if you could… just…”

There was a scuffle. Barely there, but plain as day to Jax’s comically large ears. It sounded close, as if he could just reach in and touch whatever made that noise.

“Ribbit?” Another shuffle. It sounded… heavy. Far too weighted to be his friend, who only reached halfway up his head. “Hah… you—you got me! You win! Now, just open the door so I can…” Reaching in with the plan to feel what was barricading the other side, he only got as far as his hand, until he stopped.

Jax found himself staring at a singular, multi-colored glowing eye from between the crack. The way it stared at him felt as if another hole had been carved out of him.

‘No…’

Suddenly, a million eyes were on him, all of them piercing hollow holes through him until he felt like there was nothing left of him. Layered over each other like a brick wall, all staring down with an intensity that made Jax feel like he was actually going to die, nothing but a wall of distortment, fake yet unbearable to ignore. Bugs were beneath his skin, crawling around in the empty space, worming their way through his very being, in and out, and burrowing their home inside of him. Static filled the air, writhing through the very code that cursed Jax to be stuck here till the day he died.

No, not died. That would’ve been a blessing.

Until the day he…

He…

“I’m sorry.”

That seemed to do it. With a loud screech, Ribbit pounced, trying to slam his face through the small gap Jax had forcefully pried open and hitting his hand that still lingered inside, causing a sharp, painful jerk to continuously ripple through his hand. Jax leaped back with a yelp, falling on his back and clambering backwards to the wall horizontal to Ribbit’s, up against an unoccupied door.

Jax watched, eyes wide, as Ribbit clawed through the opening, pushing the door further and further with each second. He should be running. He should barricade himself in his own room, or at the very least call out to Caine to attend to this in whatever way he was supposed to.

But… this was Ribbit. This was his friend, the only person whom Jax felt like he could lean on during his worst and still stay upright.

Yet, like a coward, Jax had let him fall.

Maybe it was out of guilt. Maybe Jax felt it was partly deserved—maybe he was tired of running off on his friend when they needed him most, but Jax could only watch, stunned, as Ribbit slammed against the door over and over until it abruptly flew open.

In a blink, a flurry of eyes was rushing at him. A loud, distorted sound crackled against his eardrums, filling his head with a panic that left him immobilized.

Closing his eyes, Jax braced himself for the worst, neither fight nor flight deciding to respond.

He sat there, waiting.

And waiting.

“Well! That could’ve ended terribly!” Caine’s dumb, announcer voice piped up.

Finally opening his eyes, Jax finds that it’s just him and Caine in the hallway now. He’s still backed up against the wall, hand freaking out as Caine hovers cheerfully above him. But that’s not what catches his attention. What he focuses on, instead, is the large pit on the floor right in front of him, where his toes just barely hang over the edge. Inching forward, Jax gets a glimpse of Ribbit—dark, voided form, blistering with eyes that all stare up at him, as if asking him why why why —plummeting down into the depths until it closes back up on him.

“Oh, dear! Your hand! Here—” and with a snap, Jax’s hand is back to normal; he can feel it, but he doesn’t care to look. “There you go! Good as new! It’s a good thing you caught it as soon as you did, or it could’ve caused a lot of damage! Good job, Jax!”

Jax doesn’t respond. Jax can’t hear right now.

“Well, good night!” And Caine is gone.

Just like…

Jax doesn’t move. He feels paralyzed. Eyes still glued to the last place he saw Ribbit, now stuck in a void, forever trapped in a prison within a prison, a victim to a fate worse than being dehumanized against your will, an eternal sufferer of one’s own mentality on top of Jax’s carelessness.

Had the circus always been cold? Jax has been here for… a good while now, and he doesn’t recall it ever being neither warm nor cold. Now, though, Jax feels that chill again, but somehow worse.

Feeling unsteady, Jax forces his body to move. He only gets so far until he falls forward onto his hands and knees, staring down at the ground, either waiting for it to bring Ribbit back or to swallow up Jax and throw him where he deserves to be.

Neither happens.

“Heh… hehe…” Jax doesn’t feel the air leave his lungs. There is no air. And he has no lungs. “Eheheh! Hah! Heh—” His eyes burn. The edges of his vision wobble, and his hands don’t feel like his. Nothing feels like him.

This isn’t him. It can’t be him.

“That’s… hehe! That’s funny!” He weakly croaks out. The grin on his face feels too natural, yet it’s foreign all the same. Is this him? “You—you got me good! Real good! Hehe! Y’even tricked… tricked Caine! Ha! That’s…” Jax looks up, desperately hoping to see Ribbit standing in his door with a big, fat, smug grin on his face.

Ribbit’s door is partly shut, a consequence of when it had been thrown open and hit the wall, ricocheting back. The goofy character glares down on him from behind the glaring red X plastered over it.

It all comes rushing down on Jax.

Ribbit was gone .

Now , adrenaline fills Jax’s senses. In seconds, he’s up on his feet, full force at the door as he kicks it open, looking around Ribbit’s room with wide eyes. The sight haunts him—everything is a mess. Almost all of the furniture was flipped over, no longer in their original places but now strewn about near the door, hinting at what had been blocking him off. Covering the walls, ceiling, and floor was messy handwriting, all telling the same story.

You never mattered.

You never mattered.

You never mattered.

Dread fills Jax as it all sinks in. He did this. He caused this . Jax ruined everything again . When he walks further to truly take it all in, his foot nearly slips on something. Looking down, what he sees tears him in two.

A photo. He and Ribbit, side by side, grinning like the world was theirs, with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. Torn in two. Ribbit’s side had been the one to find its way beneath his foot—mockingly symbolic—while Jax’s side lay tattered and scratched.

Tears fall between his feet. A few runs down his face as the rest just build along the waterline of his eyes until they taint the ground beneath him. Jax feels the world breaking around him. He also feels something breaking within him. Bending down, he grabs onto Ribbit’s side with a yellow hand.

His yellow hand.

Chapter Text

Pomni didn’t usually leave her room after a certain point in the night. She thinks it has to do with the ambience—something about roaming the digital circus alone, in the dark, surrounded by silence and lacking its usual bustling energy, it really drove home just how trapped she was. And there was no longer a need for late-night bathroom trips, considering she didn’t even have a digestive system anymore.

But tonight in particular, she just… felt compelled to walk.

She’s lapped the main area and some hallways a few times already, trying to figure out why her brain wasn’t shutting off like she wanted it to. She was getting better at calming herself down and taking everything in stride; while that didn’t necessarily mean she’d gotten a full grasp on her anxiety, she’d long learned several techniques useful for soothing it.

Yet, none of them were working. Meaning something was still bothering her, and Pomni needed to figure it out.

‘It probably has to do with Jax…’ she couldn’t help but admit to herself. Her brain is going a million miles a second, replaying the day and trying to digest the absolute shit show of emotions Jax had thrown at her.

“There's nothing more to me. So please… just stop looking.”

She frowned, trying to work out the sick feeling in her stomach. Jax wasn't slick, and he knew it—she could just feel the thoughts whirring inside his head getting worse and worse by the end of the adventure. Going from empty and scripted to frantic and angry, before finally looking at her with that defeated, tired look. If he hadn’t dropped the act right then and there just to plead her, she would’ve kept prodding, but she knew when some battles weren’t meant to be fought.

Jax was hurting, and so, by extension, he was hurting everyone else.

But… he was doing so well at first? They had been chatting for days! He had no problem answering her questions, even confessing why corn freaked him out so much. He had helped her relax by telling her the logistics of the circus and how to navigate it. He even invited her to start singing Daisy just to annoy Zooble. Besides his initial spiel about their archetypes and how they were no longer humans, he was fine! He even went as far as to validate her feelings about hating the place, which was a little unexpected but very appreciated.

And then he just… flipped. Out of nowhere, he had pulled away, as if her presence suddenly burned. What happened?? She replayed the whole day through her head, trying to estimate when Jax started having his crashout or doubt or whatever the hell had gone through his head that made him lash out the way he did.

At first, she thought back to when she had called him a villain when he mentioned archetypes. He had gotten pretty stiff at that accusation, but he didn’t get downright hostile until much later. Pomni doesn’t think that was the main issue, but it probably didn’t help.

There was their shootout with Ragatha and Kinger. When she suggested they play 21 questions just to pass the time until they stumbled on someone, Jax agreed and even let her start off the first question. And even better, he’d responded—genuinely! Without much of a fight at all! But when she brought up learning a lot about him, his face had gone blank, and every raw, sincere emotion had left as he immediately changed the discussion towards the adventure at hand and finding Kinger.

That had been noticeable, which leaves Pomni thinking that something had happened before that.

There had been a short minute where they split up to go after the duo. She’d lost the chess piece pretty quickly, so she just opted to go back and follow the sounds of gunshots coming from some weird curtained hallway area. She hadn’t been paying that much attention to Jax, more concerned about someone popping up out of nowhere and shooting her. Still, she does distinctly remember noticing the way Jax looked rigid in the middle of the hall, surrounded by cotton that vanished in seconds. When she looked back, his body was more relaxed, but…

He’d sounded… off.

Pomni had no reason to give it much thought at the time, but something definitely happened there that caused him to slowly pull back. She really hates to point fingers, but if the current relationship between Jax and Ragatha was anything to go by, something happened between them, and he lashed out.

She just wished she knew what it was. All she knows so far is that Jax has attachment issues, and something inside the circus might’ve caused them.

Before she could expand further on that thought, there was a loud crash coming from the dining area. For a solid, frightening second, she thought maybe Caine had late-night “optional” activities set up for them to stumble on that she should be worried about, but then someone’s voice resounded from that same area, and Pomni didn’t hesitate to rush over and see who it was and if they were alright.

The dining hall was visually empty when she made it over. However, there was a door left open off to the side that she knew to be Caine’s poor attempt at a kitchen. Peeking in, all she could make out in the darkness was someone’s silhouetted frame hunched in the fridge, rummaging around.

“Hello?”

“GYAH—!” Jax barely turned around to look at her before one of his legs whipped up in the air, as if he’d slipped on something, and he fell straight onto the ground, face-first.

‘He lands like that a lot…’ Pomni kind of wants to say it out loud, just to see his reaction, but emotions were still raw between them, and she had no idea where she stood in Jax’s life at the moment to know if jokes and playful jabs were still a good idea.

She waited in silence for Jax to get up on his own, maybe make some sort of retort of either why he was up so late or why she was up so late, but neither of those things happened. He just stayed on the ground, face down, unmoving in pure silence.

“Jax?” He still didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Turning on the light, Pomni got a good look at the state of… everything.

Part of the shelf inside the open fridge had been knocked down, its contents spilled all over the floor—hence, the loud crash that got her attention. Jax, while not an entire mess, had some splotches of disturbingly familiar fuchsia pink substance sticking to his pants. Following the mess from his pant legs up to his head, she finally saw the bottle just out of reach from him, capless and mostly empty.

“Jax. Did you drink stupid sauce?” If Pomni hadn’t been so convinced of Jax’s blatant regret earlier, she sure as hell is now.

“Phmmhm, hmm…”

“I can’t understand you with the floor in the way.”

He still didn’t move. Even though she should probably leave and let things settle down between them before making any sort of move, Jax has been nothing but a pure mess, and his current predicament is a glaring sign that whatever he’s dealing with, it’s getting worse.

With a sigh, Pomni moves to help. “C’mon, at least sit up.” Jax still doesn’t move. When she reaches down to grab at a limp arm, Jax neither helps nor hinders, just stays lax on the floor and only scoots an inch or so when she tugs to lift him. “Jax—humor me, here! Get up!”

“Mmmmph…” He’s not getting up. Pomni gets the feeling he doesn’t want to.

“Can you at least flip over?” No response. Just when Pomni starts seriously reconsidering Jax’s mental state and how much of the stupid sauce he’s drunk, he drags his arms in a way that makes them look like they weigh a hundred pounds, and presses his palms to the floor before pausing. “...would you like some help?”

“Mmhm.”

Her eyebrows fly straight up at the immediate compliance. Though at the clear, and thankfully coherent invitation, Pomni slides her arms under Jax’s torso, and, counting down from three, lifts at the same time he does until he’s finally on his back, flat on the floor. Immediately, he squints and groans in protest at the light, slinging an arm over his eyes before she can get a good look at him.

“You want me to turn off the light?” She offers, huffing. Jax doesn’t answer, but she heads back towards the entryway to flick off the lights. It makes the rest of the room darken, but the fridge is still open, illuminating the small area Jax has made himself comfortable in, and that’s all the light she really needs, so it’s fine. “Okay. Uh, back to my original question, I guess—why did you drink the stupid sauce?” She has a hunch, but she wants Jax talking, so it works.

Jax lies unmoving, occasionally flexing the fingers over his eyes, until a grin spreads across his face. “Tha’ wazn’ y’er-iginal q’estin,” he wheezes, and as mildly irritating as it was that Jax still won’t take anything seriously, the fact he's talking to her is gratifying and relieving enough.

“Yeah, but you already kinda answered it by just…” she lazily motions to all of him, even if he can’t see it with his arm over his eyes.

He only hums back, a small grin on his face that feels less genuine and more like a reflex than anything—as if the expression was muscle memory for him. It’s concerning.

“... are you okay?” It was kind of rhetorical, but Pomni was trying to figure out where to even start with him. She supposes her biggest question was whether or not he’d even allow her to.

“Neverrr betterrrr,” Jax slurs, decidedly not allowing her to start.

She tries to deviate the topic from anything that might make him emotionally lock up or lash out. “Are you… comfy?”

A long pause. Jax probably didn’t realize she spoke. Or maybe he did and he’s just deciding not to respond anymore. It’s so hard to tell normally, especially now.

“Do you need help going to bed?”

Still no response. Pomni doesn’t know what to do; she just knows she doesn’t want to leave him here alone. Jax’s breakdown and emotional whipflash made her terrified of what might happen to him.

Looking around, she finds herself staring at the fridge again. The only things in it were bread, for some reason, water bottles, eggs that somehow haven't broken, and a few more bottles of stupid sauce. The light illuminating the area tempts her to shut it, because her brain keeps thinking about real-life logic and wasting electricity, but she reminds herself that it isn’t real, and that the light is much preferred, actually, otherwise she’d be sitting in the dark with Jax, so the fridge stays open.

“Whaddya do when…” Jax’s slurred tone snaps her out of her thoughts, and she’s never looked at anyone so fast before. “Like—how does… uh…” Pomni waits patiently, while also not so patiently, because she’s never wanted to know what was going through someone’s head so badly up until she met Jax. After a short stop, Jax’s hand slides right off his face, and Pomni can see how his eyes appear to be tinted a little pinker than normal. It makes his sclera look orange instead of yellow. She doesn’t know if it’s a side effect of drinking the pink stupid sauce or if Jax had been…

His head leans back, and they make eye contact. Even though the grin on his face is still there, the look in his eyes is similar to the last look he gave her before walking off—tired, defeated, exhausted. Dare she say, he looked desolate.

“Are you okay?” Pomni gives it one last try. If Jax pushed back, she’d drop it for the night.

Jax’s grin falls. It makes Pomni anxious, because while a grinning Jax usually meant chaos and havoc, a non-grinning Jax could mean anything.

After a few blank seconds, his eyes lazily drag over to the side, where the presumably empty bottle of stupid sauce lies on the ground. Then, his shoulders stiffen and his arms move, and Jax makes some poor attempt at trying to stand up.

Pomni’s up on her feet immediately. “Oh! Here—” Jax gives her a look when she grabs his arm, but otherwise, he doesn’t fight her. It takes some struggling and pushing and shoving and almost getting squashed under him, but they do eventually succeed in getting Jax standing on his own two feet, even if it was only achievable by him leaning his whole body against the counter.

“The—the sauce, Pom…” he talks like there’s cotton in his mouth.

Pomni shakes her head. “You’re not having any more—”

“I don’t want any more,” Jax bites, and she has a feeling he’s not lying. She’s still unsure, but grabs the bottle from the floor (it is almost empty, there’s maybe a drink or two left) and twists the cap back on before handing it over. Jax grabs it, staring at the fuchsia pink container for a second, and then opens the pocket of his overalls to drop it in there. “Lez go,” he slurs, and one step nearly makes his knees buckle and send him straight onto the floor again.

Pomni darts out to catch him before he hits the ground. She nearly falls with him, and it sends Jax into a wheezing fit. “Alright, let’s just get you to your room,” she huffs.

Walking is a nightmare. She’s disproportionate: short, stalky, big in some places and small in others. Meanwhile, Jax is the complete opposite: tall, lanky, all thin and boneless, as if he were made of rubber.

He keeps laughing, too, which jostles both of them, and every time one of them nearly falls over, he just wheezes harder and harder, and if this had happened literally the night before, Pomni doesn’t doubt she’d be laughing, too. But she isn’t. She’s still concerned. Jax was hiding something, and even when she had done everything right, it just caused him to lash out.

After a while, they do eventually make it to the hallway. Jax’s room is somewhat near the middle, straight across from her room.

“Okay, c'mon,” Pomni huffs, already eyeing where Jax's room is. It's sort of a straight shot, and hopefully a quick one, too, if he cooperates. The first few steps are easy, sort of wobbly, and nearly toppled them over, but Jax is walking easier, so either the stupid sauce is wearing off, or he's getting used to being under the influence.

All of a sudden, though, Jax's whole body heavily leans to the side opposite Pomni, and there isn't much she can do other than watch him bodily slam against one of the doors—Ragatha’s.

“Please don’t wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up!” She freaks out under her breath, yanking Jax away from the door as if it would burn him if he stayed on it a second longer. She tries to just drag him by the arm down the hall, to get them as far away from Ragatha's door as possible, but Jax's body is moving slower than hers, so he just ends up on his knees, still laughing.

Unfortunate, because Ragatha ends up coming out of her room.

She first sees Jax, on all fours and laughing like he just pulled the funniest prank yet, and a scowl glosses over her features. When she looks up and sees Pomni, though, gasping for air and looking mildly concerned and a little freaked out, her expression shifts.

“What's going on?” She asks, rightfully confused.

“Uh,” Pomni racks her brain on what to say. Should she be honest? Say that Jax is on stupid sauce and she's trying to bring him to his room? Did Jax have a different story he wanted told? Did he even want anyone else to know what he was on? She doesn't know. “Well, uh… he's—”

“This sh[%$!#] goooood Rags!” Jax drawls, eyes beaming with small tears from laughter that are very much so tinted pink.

The look of recognition on Ragatha's face appears so fast that Pomni almost thinks it was always there.

“Oh!” She says, startled, her hand hovered over her chest, almost in shock. The doll sends another look at Pomni, and all she can do is shrug, because whatever question Ragatha has, it's probably the same one Pomni has, too. “Uh, yeah! I guess it is. Here, let's get you to your room,” Ragatha just goes along with it, reaching down to help scoop up whatever part of Jax he was willing to let her grab, and Pomni's never been more thankful for Ragatha.

The two of them struggle to figure out how to navigate Jax, but with Ragatha's height being somewhat closer to Jax's than Pomni's, it's significantly easier. Jax still fumbles his steps and walks as if his knees were inverted, and it’d be such a silly thing to watch if it were under different circumstances.

Sure enough, they make it to Jax’s room. Ragatha takes Jax from her so she can open the door, but when she tries the knob, it’s locked.

“Jax. Key?” She turns to him, holding her hand out.

The whole trip here, Jax had been a giggly, chortling mess. Missing steps and joints buckling under any pressure, he’d been navigating himself worse than a baby giraffe that was just born. Now, though, Jax is staring at his door as if it insulted him personally. Pomni recognizes the expression is similar to the face he’d been making when they first arrived at the award show—deep frown, mouth closed, completely shut off.

“Jax?” Ragatha asks.

Jax moves. Not towards his door, though. His body leans to the side, away from Ragatha, and she’s not expecting it, so he slips right out of her grasp and is already making distance between him and them down the hall, an impressive feat considering he could hardly keep himself upright up until this point. Pomni wonders if he’d been making this whole trip difficult on purpose.

“Hey—Jax!”

“Stop!”

They both call for him, but it’s fruitless. Jax keeps moving, staggering down the hall and bumping into more walls and doors, eventually teetering onto Zooble’s door and slamming his hand against it to keep himself from toppling over. Zooble’s loud voice is muffled on the other side, but they’re clearly awake.

“Hold up! Your room’s back here!” Pomni cries out, running after him with Ragatha. They’re both quick to catch up to him—he’s fast, but he’s still under the influence. When they each grab him, though, he somehow slips out from right beneath their hands and keeps moving down the hall.

“What the f[%$!#] is going on?” Zooble steps out of their room, and Pomni doesn’t miss Gangle stepping out of the same room, too. She doesn’t give it much thought, though. There’s a Jax loose in the hallway that needs to be tended to.

“Jax! Stop! Come on!” She grabs at his waist and pulls. He only drags her with him.

“What stupid sh[%$!#] is he planning this time?” Zooble grumbles, slowly following with Gangle on her trail.

“Is… he okay?” Gangle asks, looking genuinely concerned.

Ragatha answers for her as they both attempt to wrangle Jax. “He’s on stupid sauce! We tried taking him to his room, but he’s not stopping!”

“Why is he on stupid sauce??”

Nobody answers. Pomni has a hunch, but she’s not saying anything.

“Jax, c’mon. You need to go to your room—”

“No!” Jax snaps with a lot more aggression than he’s ever snapped at Gangle before. It catches them all off guard, and Zooble especially looks ready to kill him.

“That’s it—” they stomp after him, eyes furrowed in anger. They’re all freaking out now, trying to keep Zooble from mauling Jax to death while simultaneously trying to keep the taller from running off. Gangle’s blocking the path between them, jerking her body side to side to mirror Zooble’s attempt at going around, while Ragatha and Pomni stumble over each other trying to keep Jax still.

There’s so much shouting and cursing. Jax is adamant about going down the hall, for whatever reason, but Pomni just wants him in bed and to call it a night. She doesn’t want him wandering alone, and Ragatha seems to at least share the same sentiment if the way she’s also desperately clawing at him is anything to go by. When Pomni looks over her shoulder to check out how Gangle’s handling Zooble, she’s surprised to find that Zooble has managed to weasel past Gangle, who’s now wrapped her body around the other to keep her back.

“Zooble! He’s under the influence, he doesn’t—”

“That shouldn’t matter! He’s being immature right now!”

Pomni wants to make a retort that nothing going on right now would be considered mature, but decides against it.

“But you shouldn’t—”

“What’s going on?”

Everyone freezes, even Jax, who’s currently at a 30° angle from the ground and only being suspended by his overalls, which she and Ragatha are clutching desperately. They all look at Kinger, who innocently stands just a few feet in front of them all, wide eyes blinking almost buggishly.

“He, uh… he’s on stupid sauce and won’t go to his room,” Pomni hesitantly explains, not sure what’s going on anymore.

Kinger blinks. “Why?”

Pomni frowns. Is Kinger sane right now? The hallway is dark, and he seems pretty coherent, but she can’t tell with him unless he makes it blatantly obvious. She also can’t figure out what he’s asking for. Why, as in, why is he on stupid sauce? Or why, as in, why isn’t he going to his room? Because she doesn’t have an answer for either of those.

“Because he’s a complicated b[%$!#] who has to make things hard on everyone. That’s why!” Zooble grobbles, no longer fighting Gangle’s wrestling.

Kinger looks between all of them, expressionless. Then, he looks down at Jax, who’s been letting himself hang in their grasp since his arrival. Pomni now notices that his ears are drooping and crooked, and his whole body is sagging like dead weight. How they haven’t dropped him yet is surprising.

“Jax?” Kinger asks. The most Jax responds with is a half-assed ear lift. “Do you want to go to your room?”

Jax is silent. Pomni can’t see if he’s looking at him or not from this angle.

“No.” His voice is weak. Broken. She thinks it might’ve cracked with unshed tears or built up sadness, but she doesn’t know. Ragatha must think the same thing, because she looks as surprised as Pomni feels.

“Why?”

“... I hate it there.”

It’s relatable. Pomni also doesn’t like her room. If she had to take a guess, none of them liked their rooms. But the way Jax said it felt more personal than just simply being stuck with a room that didn’t match your personality or aesthetic.

“Ah, I feel you. Sometimes, when I’m feeling especially nostalgic or lonely, I’ll go to my wife’s room for the night. It always makes me feel better! She had customized her room to be more to her liking than I had with mine, so it always felt more homey.”

Ah. Kinger was sane. He wouldn’t have brought up his wife, otherwise.

“Kinger—” Zooble tried to butt in, but he wasn’t done.

Kinger looks down at Jax with his softest expression, the same one he looked at Pomni with when he told her the most important thing you should do when stuck in a place like this. “If you don’t want to go to your room, then where do you want to go?”

Silence. Nobody is moving; she’s afraid of moving because it might ruin whatever fragility is currently in the air and inside Jax, so her only indicator of Jax doing anything with his face is how Kinger reacts.

They all watch Kinger carefully. The older chess piece observes Jax for a few silent moments. Then, he seems to notice something, as his eyes perk up in recognition and he looks over his shoulder down the hall behind him in thought.

“Oh.”

“W—what?” Ragatha stutters, unnerved.

Kinger doesn’t answer. He looks back at Jax and walks towards them. “Let’s get you going, then. The sooner you’re in bed, the sooner you’ll feel better.”

Pomni doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But it’s Kinger, so she lets go of Jax at the same time Ragatha does, and Jax plats onto the floor with a soft grunt. She kind of feels bad, but everything is so weird right now that she can’t even apologize.

They all can only watch as Kinger holds his floating hands out for Jax to take. And sure enough, Jax does, and lets himself be lifted onto his feet without ripping Kinger’s hands away from him or dragging him down onto the floor with him.

They both trudge down the hall at a steady pace—Jax’s pace, and Pomni and everyone else can only watch as Jax lets himself be taken to… wherever he wanted to go. Pomni finds herself following, mildly out of concern and mostly out of morbid curiosity. She can hear everyone else trail behind her, also curious.

Kinger seems to know exactly where to take Jax. Just as they near the end of the hall, they both branch off a little to the left, and then finally stop at the last door on the corner. Pomni can’t make out the avatar on the door, but she sees the bright red X over a green figure.

“Jax?”

Ragatha’s voice takes her by surprise. When she looks back, Ragatha looks more than shocked; she looks like her whole world has been flipped upside down.

Jax doesn’t even look at her. He sticks his hand into his front pocket and digs around for a moment, then pulls out a shiny yellow key. It’s almost identical to all the other keys Jax has for their rooms, but this one in particular has a small, red bow delicately tied onto the handle of it. It feels different looking at it compared to all his other keys. He holds it up and just stares at it for a moment.

Pomni notices his hand shaking. Horribly shaking. It’s making his whole arm quake and his body shiver. She’s never seen him look so… terrified isn’t the word she’s looking for, but it’s a type of fear that leaves you apprehensive and torn.

“Would you like some help?” Kinger asks softly.

Jax nods. Jax nods.

Kinger softly grabs Jax’s hand, steadying him as best he can, and Pomni watches the key gravitate towards the door, bumping around the knob from how badly Jax is shaking, until it eventually slips into the lock.

And with a simple turn, the lock clicks, and the door begins to open.

They all listen to the door creak as more and more of the room reveals itself. The first thing that catches Pomni’s attention is the scribbled, faded writings on the floor.

You never mattered

But there’s something else written between the lines, much smaller and harder to discern. When she tries to read it, though, Jax finally moves, drawing her attention.

He takes only a few steps into the bedroom before heavily dropping onto his knees. It’s then that she—and everyone else—sees what's in front of him.

It’s a funeral. Plastered on the wall is a picture of a frog character, with a wreath made up of marigolds and violets. Against the wall on the floor is a collection of random stuff—drinks, more flowers, trinkets, and random stuff that are either somewhat frog-related or nowhere near what you’d expect for a funeral.

Pomni can feel everyone behind her, watching him. Jax stares at the sight before him for a few quiet seconds, unmoving. Then, he reaches into that same pocket and pulls out the bottle of stupid sauce. Without another word, he carefully sets it down alongside all the other stuff, being very particular with where it goes and how it looks.

When he reaches into his pocket again to grab something else, it all hits Pomni like a freight train.

He’s bringing stuff he thinks they would’ve liked.

The next thing to come out of his pocket is a gun from their most recent adventure. Instead of doing anything aggressive or brash with it, Jax just meticulously sets it down with everything else, and then sags where he sits, staring, as if all the energy and fight inside him had just vanished into thin air.

“Oh, Jax…” Ragatha’s voice barely makes it out of her own throat. She sounds choked up. Pushing past the rest of them, she goes to stand next to him, and Kinger is quick to stand by Jax’s other side, also staring at the funeral. Pomni, Zooble, and Gangle are the only ones still standing by the door, lost, confused, and totally out of their element.

But this was clearly important to Jax. So Pomni goes to stand behind him, taking it all in, as well as the rest of the bedroom. They're kinda right up against the right side, since the other side of the wall is where the hallway turns to, so she takes in the left side of the room. There's a round waterbed that looks like a lily pad, with a quilt and goofy pillows of all shapes, colors, sizes, and patterns. On the floor is a pair of untouched slippers—purple rabbit slippers. There's a dresser next to the bed, with a lava lamp that's turned off and a picture frame with the glass slightly fractured. She can't make out the picture too well, but she sees green and purple. There’s also an origami bunny sitting innocently on the dresser, made of bright yellow paper and facing the bed, as if it were watching over.

Pomni also has a better angle at seeing all the writing. It's everywhere—ceiling, walls, floor. But between the lines, she can just barely see it, something else that looks less spontaneously written and more guiltily added:

Don't ruin him

It's so small, it's a miracle she even caught it. But the writing is just that much neater and precise that it feels like a moment of clarity.

“If I had known you were this good at making funerals, we could've had you hosting them,” Kinger says quietly, sounding in awe. “He would’ve loved this! And it’s his favorite flowers, too!” Jax inhales sharply, and it hurts Pomni to listen to. “Oh! That reminds me!” Kinger quickly turns and hustles out of the room. Everyone but Jax and Ragatha watches him round the corner and disappear out of sight. It’s now that Pomni’s able to see Gangle and Zooble—Gangle’s face is blank in sudden revelation, but her tears are much bigger than they normally are. She’s not staring at the funeral or the writing on the wall or anything; she’s staring at Jax, as if she’s just seeing him for the first time. Zooble had taken a few steps inside the room and off to the side, looking at some of the pictures on the wall and the artifacts collecting digital dust on shelves and dressers. That’s when Pomni notices a sewing machine and a chest that’s left open, overflowing with random fabrics.

“Jax…” Pomni turns to Ragatha, who’s slowly lowering her hand towards Jax’s shoulder. “How… how long—”

“Found it!” Kinger bursts back in, carefully navigating past Gangle. In his hands is an insect cage, one of those long cylinder kinds that’s mostly net. Inside it is what looks to be a butterfly, with large, beautiful wings consisting of greens and purples with some black and white. It looked beautiful. “You remember when you both caught that worm so long ago? It had cocooned after he… y’know, but I’ve been taking care of it, since. Here.”

Kinger holds out the habitat to Jax. Pomni still can’t see his face since she’s behind him, but when he reaches for the cage, it’s impossible to miss the way his arms shake. Even after his hands grab it, Kinger doesn’t let go until Jax pretty much takes it from him.

Jax holds the container in his hands, staring at the small, delicate creature inside. The butterfly fluttered around, clinging from one side to the other, wanting out. Jax quickly unzips the top, and it flies right out and beelines to the flower wreath on the wall.

It’s strangely symbolic.

“Well. It’s been quite a busy day, I think we all should get some shut-eye,” Kinger declares, and as soft spoken as it is, Pomni clocks what he’s intending in nods.

“Yeah! Yeah, let's, uh… let's head to bed.”

Ragatha looks like she wants to argue, but one look at both of them has her own eyes widening, too. Wordlessly, she nods, sends the funeral one last look, and then speed walks out. Zooble and Gangle are already close to the door, and though Zooble doesn’t hesitate to step out, Gangle still seems frozen in place, staring at Jax.

“C’mon. Let’s go,” Pomni says softly, grabbing her head to drag both of them out. Gangle moves, but her eyes don’t leave the other for even a moment. Kinger is the last to leave, but before he walks out, he walks up to Jax and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Jax,” he says. Then, he looks up at the photo. “And goodnight, Ribbit.”

Jax’s body somehow sags even more. Before Kinger can walk away, though, one of Jax’s hands settles over his that’s on his shoulder. It’s small, but coming from Jax, the message is loud and clear to all of them.

Thank you.

Finally, Kinger separates and closes the door, leaving the key that’d been hanging in the hole inside the room for Jax to claim again. The second the door shuts, it feels like all the electric energy surrounding them dissipates. Zooble looks like they don’t know what to do with themself. Gangle’s staring at the door, expressionless, and Ragatha has straight-up retreated to her room.

“Now! Something tells me we have a busy day tomorrow! Especially Jax. We’ll need all the rest we can get,” Kinger finally says, mainly looking to Pomni.

Pomni opens her mouth to respond, maybe ask what was going on or who this Ribbit person was and what they have to do with Jax, but Zooble cuts in before she can. “Great. I’ll be off in my room charging this thing—” they hold up a small, digital camera that Pomni didn’t realize they were holding, “and then we can all check it out once it’s done.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gangle says at last, voice soft but solid. “Jax might—”

“Whatever this is has everything to do with Jax, and I don’t trust him to be honest or open about it,” Zooble is quick to defend themself, clutching the camera like they’d take it from them. “I’m leaving.” And sure enough, Zooble walks off, and nobody stops them.

Everyone else takes the hint and also makes their way to their room. Kinger branches off first, his room being closest, but before Gangle reaches her room, she stops and turns to Pomni.

“Do you… do you think he’ll be okay?” She asks.

Pomni honestly has no idea. This is Jax, after all. They knew he wasn’t right in the head, but all this has just changed their whole perspective of him, and now it’s anyone’s guess how Jax might react.

She nods. “We’ll be there for him. Just like…” she turns back to the hall, staring at the door.

Gangle sighs. “Yeah. Yeah…” and then she goes into her room, leaving Pomni alone in the hall.

God, she’s never wanted to know somebody so badly before.

Chapter Text

So goosworx revealed what Ribbit's pronouns are, but hasn't really elaborated on Ribbit's sex

This news does kinda put a wrench in a lot of my WIPS and headcanons, but for this story in particular, it shouldn't be an issue

I may go back and slightly adjust a few things to accommodate this new information, but if you guys want, I can do 1 of 2 things:

1. Fully commit to the She/Them pronouns of Ribbit and continue this with this new perspective

or

2. Write the story using just they/them pronouns, so that you, the reader, can interpret Ribbit however you want

Neither of these will change the story, and just to make you guys feel better, the 3rd (real) chapter is in the works, but school has been keeping me busy, and that chapter is going to be my longest and most heartbreaking one yet, so I want to ensure it's upheld to my highest quality

And to satiate how long its taking me, here's a sneak peek:

“Is this thing on?” they mutter, voice muffled, hand likely covering where the microphone is, while staring into the screen. Their eyes dart around for a moment until they widen. “Oh, there’s the light! Shoot!” They laugh, setting the camera down on something and backing up until their whole figure is in frame. They seem to be standing in a large, colorful space that Pomni recognizes as the hallway right outside their rooms. “Hello! Hi! It took quite a bit of sweet-talking, but I finally convinced Caine to let me have a camera to mess around with! I, uh…” Ribbit looks to the side, eyes following someone's movement as they trail off into silence.

And then…

“What are you ‘croaking’ about this time?"

“That's Kaufmao!” Gangle pipes up, and even Pomni feels herself metaphorically sitting on the edge of her seat. Her eyebrows probably raised above her hairline with how shocked she was to hear Kaufmao for the first time—she was not expecting his voice to be that low.

Ribbit squints at Kaufmao offscreen and grins stiffly. “Ha… ha. Real original, buddy,” they force themself to laugh through gritted teeth. “But! If you're so curious—y'know how I've been asking Caine for a camera?”

“Yeah?”

Instead of responding, Ribbit gestures to the camera with this big, theatrical motion that reminds Pomni of something someone would do when they're presenting a new crown to their king.

“Ta-daa~”

Finally, Kaufmao steps into frame, and it's a little surreal to her, actually seeing him as himself for the first time, moving and alive. He’s… fairly decent height; not too tall, yet not too short, at least from her current perspective. Very narrow in the head and feet, and his torso reminds Pomni of a water balloon. The expression on his face shifts from casual curiosity to a sudden, bright smile, and the way his face moves is incredibly unfamiliar. It almost reminds her of the uncanny valley, looking at something that’s so human-like, but so clearly not in appearance. She thinks it has to do with her looking at him through a screen, on top of the fact that she doesn’t have any personal emotional connection with him. He’s clearly real, he’s right there, yet neither Kaufmao nor Ribbit has struck out to her yet.

“Oh, nice! Y’know, I always ‘pictured’ you to be the kinda guy—”

“A’ight, a’ight. Get outta here,” Ribbit swats their arm at Kaufmao without looking away from the camera once. They’re wide-eyed with a beaming grin that feels so fake and plastered that it’s a lot like…

Like…

“Now, what’s with the ‘negative’ attitude, Ribbit?”

“Okay, I’ll just record this another time,” as Ribbit quickly walks directly towards the camera, Kaufmao has a bright, nearly shameless grin on his face. While Pomni herself isn’t too enthusiastic about puns (she doesn’t hate them, but they’re not her cup of tea, either), even she has to admit to herself that if this were the kind of thing Kaufmao did, then she would’ve gotten along fine with him.

The video quickly ends almost as soon as Ribbit’s hands are on the camera, the perspective matching the original thumbnail.