Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The award show ends and the mannequin guests begin to slowly filter out, chattering amongst themselves with stilted, mouthless conversation. Pomni remains in her seat, hands trembling on her knees as the lights slowly brighten and the curtains close– beside her, Ragatha leans across an empty seat to exchange pleasantries with an obliviously loud Kinger. None of the words register with Pomni, who is still doing her best not to look around.

If she does, her eyes will inevitably seek out a streak of purple, an empty smile–

She grips her knees tighter, wishing desperately for the familiar sting of nails digging into flesh.

“Pomni? Are you alright?” Pomni jerks upright at Ragatha’s voice, turning sharply to her right to find the woman looking down at her with kind yet pitying eyes. Something in Pomni’s face must strike concern, because Ragatha quickly holds up her hands, shaking them frantically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! But everyone else is heading out now, I’m sure Caine has some sort of afterparty planned.”

“Right. Right!” Pomni gets up, smoothing out her jester’s outfit and offering as quick of a smile as she can. “Um… Did you see Jax–”

Ragatha’s smile wilts. “No, I think he already left. Why?”

Pomni risks a glance toward the seat Jax had taken toward the back of the theater and is unsurprised to find it empty. “Uh. No reason.” She shrugs, moving out of the row of seats to let Ragatha and Kinger past. For just a moment Kinger looks sad when he stares down at her, but the moment passes quickly– as it always does when the lights come on. Zooble and Gangle are already a bit ahead of them, talking in hushed tones, and it seems none of the three stragglers are too keen on catching up. Together, but missing one, the members of the circus make their way out of the theater and right back into the circus tent, gathering in a cluster on the black-and-white tiles.

“Some award show,” Zooble mumbles, crossing their mismatched arms. “I was half expecting Caine to rig it so that he won everything.”

“Y-yeah,” Gangle murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself into a bow. “I mean, at least you won something.”

“I did?”

“Speaking of–” Ragatha looks around, drawing attention to the awful silence that echoes through the main gathering area. “Where is Caine? I thought he’d want to work off his excitement with a party.”

“Oh I’m completely fine if he doesn’t do that, actually. Gangle, c’mon, want me to show you some of my drawings?” Gangle’s ribbon body wavers at Zooble’s invitation but she’s quick to nod, the two of them drifting off together toward the dorm hallway. Pomni looks around to find that Kinger has already disappeared, probably into his fortress of pillows, and that leaves her and Ragatha, standing in awkward silence. Pomni knows they agreed to talk after the show but– something about the way Jax had looked, the way he had vanished and reappeared, only to vanish again… It constricts deep in her chest, and she knows she’s about to make things worse trying to make things better but–

“So, Pomni–”

Pomni steps back. “I gotta go check on Jax. I– We had– I just. Need to talk to him.” Ragatha freezes, expression of optimistic guilt cracking. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quick and then we can– we can talk. Promise.”

Ragatha doesn’t move for a second, and when the ends of her hair begin to lift Pomni realizes that the ragdoll had been holding her breath. She’s quick to let it go, righting herself with a forced, pleasant smile. “Right! It’s alright Pomni, we have plenty of time. I’ll just, um– I’ll go see if I can find Caine!”

Pomni doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before Ragatha is quickly walking in the opposite direction, shoulders eerily unmoving. With a slow sigh the small jester turns toward the dorm hall, trying and failing not to wring her hands together.

Delusional.

The hall seems endless, like one of those nightmare hallways where no matter how fast you run, you never can seem to reach the end. Not that Pomni is running, her bells letting out soft tinkles that interrupt the silence almost rudely. If she moves too quickly, she knows Jax will hear her coming.

We were never friends.

It’s not like it really matters. Jax won’t open his door anyway– she knows he won’t. Or, he might, and he’ll just pretend nothing at all had happened. He’ll play into his own made up joke, mocking her hesitance and naivete. He’ll laugh at how pitiful she looks, how–

If I led you on, it was just to make this part hurt you more.

Pomni slows to a stop, feeling almost dizzy as she sees Jax’s door come into view– right across from her own, almost mocking her. Her vision blurs along the edges, zeroing in on his annoyingly chipper icon as panic burns heavy in the back of her throat.

This is stupid. She’s stupid. She should just go back to Ragatha and–

The doorknob of Jax’s door twists and before Pomni can make herself scarce it swings open, Jax stepping past the frame and– and looking right at her and–

His eyes are dull, lifeless, his usual smile nowhere to be seen. He looks… tired. But when his eyes zero in on Pomni he looks–

Delusional.

Delusional.

DelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusionalDelusional.

His eyes widen for only a moment before he turns and walks promptly back into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Pomni feels something in her chest break and crumble, and before she knows it her knees hit the ground with a hollow thud.

Jax presses his back into the door of his room, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can. He thought his panic attack in the bathroom had been bad– the nauseous pain roiling through his body is another beast entirely. Once upon a time he might have had ways to temper it, vices and distractions to keep the monster at bay, but here– in this hellish circus– there’s nothing but his own ragged breath.

Outside he hears a quiet thud and it sends another dizzying ache through his chest, one that he struggles to breathe around. Stupid, he’s being stupid, he’s–

No, he’s being smart. He knows what happens when he gets too close to people. He knows, he’s seen it first hand. Pomni hasn’t, she has no idea how bad this would hurt if–

If–

What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?

Jax slowly sinks to the ground until he’s sitting with his back against the door, a false exhaustion burning through his body. He lied, but he had to, and maybe Pomni will understand… They just have to wake up in the morning and pretend none of that ever happened and then things can go back to how they were before and– and everything will be fine. And they’ll live to see another miserable day, but at least it’s one more day. Or maybe they’ll never speak again, but at least Pomni will have Ragatha, and she’ll be fine, and Jax will be fine. He’s always fine.

Right?

Jax closes his eyes, bumping his head gently against the door.

What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?

A shiver racks through Pomni’s body and she curls in on herself, grasping blindly for her blanket as she tries to cling to her artifical sleep. In her dream she had been back in that starlit adventure, just resting in the grass and looking up at the meaningless constellations, breathing and existing in a weird sense of peace. She had looked over, and Jax had been smiling. Not that hollow mask of a smile, no, but something real and soft and genuine and–

Pomni’s hands meet cold concrete and she jerks upright, blinking rapidly as she takes in her surroundings. Rows of slanted office desks and upended chairs, cracks in cement walls through which ivy grows. No headset, no old computer but… it looks familiar. Real.

Human.

She slowly pushes herself to her feet, looking down at a pair of scuffed brown boots and dusty denim jeans. She pats at her legs, her chest– a heavy duty jacket with a knit sweater beneath– palms finally coming up to cup a face that does not feel cartoonish and circular, but warm and human and–

The need to vomit overwhelms her, and she barely makes it to a wilted plant in the corner before throwing up stomach acid and nothing else. She feels carved out, weak and shaky, but she can feel the heart thumping erratically in her chest and the pangs of hunger in her stomach and it all feels so–

Real.

It’s the ringing of a phone– her phone– that makes her let out an almost manic giggle.

Somehow, someway, she’s back in the real world.

one year later.

“CHRIS!”

Pomni cringes, turning off the faucet and turning quickly to grab a paper towel. Even after a year away from the circus it’s still… really weird, hearing her real name. When she’s alone she’ll whisper it to herself, over and over again, trying to desensitize herself to how strange it sounds. How… fake. She yanks open the bathroom door and tosses the paper towel into the trash, narrowly avoiding the hand rapidly approaching her shoulder. Her coworker Brandon looks sheepishly apologetic, throwing his hands up in apology as they walk toward the front together.

“Sorry man. We’ve got a bit of a rush and you were in there for a while. You good?”

“Hm? Yes, yeah I’m fine.” Pomni shakes her head a bit, choppy bob brushing along her chin as she joins Brandon behind the counter of her cafe.

Her cafe. It sounded just as fake as her name, but the hiss of milk steamers and the overwhelming scent of espresso tells her it's all real. Not long after waking up in that abandoned building– and after searching it up and down for the headset that had transported her to the Circus– Pomni had realized that being in the real world again meant she would have to return to her accounting job and–

Yeah, no. She had quit without much fanfare, opting instead to throw herself into a career path she had never considered before. Desperate to feel human connection again, she had opened her own cafe named Lucky Latte. A stupid name, all things considered but– well, she hadn’t felt super original in the moment. Luckily for her, the simple theme and not half-bad coffee— plus hiring a few people to do the baking— had helped out a lot, and Lucky Latte was busy more often than not.

It was an easy routine to fall into, taking orders and cleaning up behind her coworkers as they worked in amicable chatter. It was mundane, and human, and… nice. It was nice, Pomni reminds herself, even if for just a moment she remembered a fake fast food restaurant and a bunny looking miserable in a plain black uniform–

“Um… My.. coffee?”

Pomni blinks, looking down at the paper cup she had been holding so long that the tips of her fingers felt hot and numb. With a polite smile Pomni hands off the coffee without looking up, turning quickly from the counter and swapping places with one of her coworkers as she tries to keep her hands from shaking.

A dream. In the end it had been a really weird, really realistic dream, and nothing more than that. She repeats this to herself like a mantra as the afternoon drips slowly into evening, the crowd thinning until only a few people linger, and it’s just Pomni– No, Christine, it’s Christine– and Brandon behind the counter.

“Y’know, if you wanna head home I don’t mind closing for you Chris.”

She looks up from where she had been scrubbing the espresso machine, blinking up at Brandon. “What?”

“I–” Brandon’s brow furrows, tilting his head. “I can close tonight. You look a bit tired man, I don’t want you to, like, drop dead or anything.”

“I– Wh–” Pomni opens and closes her mouth, trying to work up the energy to disagree, but eventually she just drops her towel, letting out a small sigh. “Yeah, that would be great actually. Sorry Brandon, I guess it’s just one of those days.”

He just offers her a sympathetic smile– one a ragdoll might have offered, once. “Get some sleep, Chris.”

Pomni nods, walking past him until she’s in her little office, quickly shoving her phone and other clutter into her backpack and rushing toward the backdoor. She doesn’t sleep, not as often as she should. It’s hard to shake the feeling that one night she’ll close her eyes and be back in the circus. Even a year out of that nightmare, it still clings to her skin like a rash she can’t rid herself of.

She wonders if the others made it out. Surely it can’t have just been her, right? As Pomni walks down the alley between downtown buildings, she recalls flashes of her last moments in the circus…

If I led you on, it was just to make this part hurt you more.

There’s nothing more to me. So, please, just stop looking.

Jax’s eyes after he opened his bedroom door, the way his expression had immediately shut down as he turns and walked right back inside, shutting the door on her.

The feeling of her knees hitting the ground and then–

Delusional. We were never friends. Delusional. We were never—

Pomni bumps into something, hard, and barely keeps herself from reeling backwards as she stumbles over her own boots. She’s just about to look up and give whoever it was a piece of her mind when.

“Watch where you’re going, short stuff!”

Delusional. Pomni feels every word in the English language shrivel up and die in the back of her throat, eyes zeroed in on the pair of dirty black boots in front of her.

“And no apology, man the nerve of some people, jeez–” The figure moves to go around Pomni as she clutches at the straps of her bag, breath failing to pass her pressed together lips. She forces them to part, trying to squeeze something, anything from her vocal chords, just–

“Sorry,” she squeaks, the sound ringing off the brick walls around her, and then she’s running.

Felix pauses, a chill zipping up his spine as he turns to watch the short figure dart away in the opposite direction. Something about that voice…

He quickly shakes it off, chewing on the tip of his tongue as he turns the corner. He’s bathed in the light of a coffeehouse’s flickering sign, advertising LUCKY LATTE to whatever caffeine-addicted night owls are still lurking about.

What a goofy name.

He looks. over his shoulder again, as if he might see the ghost of whatever memory is scratching at the back of his mind. Huh.

Odd.

Chapter Text

In the dream she’s standing in the center of a mirror maze, surrounded on all sides by the leering faces of warped jesters. Tall, stretched thin, their mouths curved into inhumanly wide smiles as they crowd the edges of the mirrors, as if trying to push through the glass. Pomni hugs her arms tighter around herself, puffs of white-hot breath forced through clenched teeth.

Every step brings her to another dead end, constant wrong turns into more and more nightmarish renditions of herself. No, not her– The version of her that existed in the Circus. And that in itself had been a nightmare so this– this was something far worse. Far more personal…

“Pomni!”

She looks up at the sound of that familiar voice calling out to her, bouncing off the mirrors with a manic scratch to it that warms something frigid in her chest.

“J-Jax?? Where are you?”

“Pomni, wh– I can’t get to you!”

Pomni steps around a grinning jester, finding a thankfully long hallway waiting for her. For a moment she thinks she glimpses him, a purple shadow at the edges of her vision, but when she turns toward him there’s nothing there but more empty mirrors, waiting for her to give them something to reflect.

“Jax, talk to me, I can– I’ll come to you!”

Silence. Pomni stumbles briefly, tripping into view of a mirror that shows… Her. Human-her, Christine. She looked exhausted, pale and pathetic and– The bags under her eyes were sickly and bruise-blue, hair frizzing into split ends from refusing to cut it for the past year. Somehow this visage was more damning than the jesters, and far harder to look away from. She’d never really considered herself pretty but this… Even human didn’t look human enough.

“Delusional.”

“At least you’re finally catching on.”

Pomni whirls around and there he is, leaning against one of the mirrors with that crescent moon smile plastered across his face. “Wh- What do you mean?”

He leans forward, ears bouncing as his pupils narrow into thin, predatory slits. “You’ll never be human enough. Not anymore, Pompom.”

The small park by Pomni’s apartment is the perfect balance of loud and serene. Children laughing on the playground, dogs barking at frisbess and kites and passing cyclists. Calm blue skies and dappled light from trees that sway gently in the breeze. Pomni sinks into the bench she’s taken up residence on, tugging at the sleeves of her long sleeve shirt as she watches a cluster of children playing by the swings.

A sudden shift in gravity startles Pomni and she looks up to see an older man settling onto the bench beside her, holding a large annotated book that he sets in his lap as he gets situated. He looks a bit like Mr. Rogers, with the addition of a salt-and-pepper beard and a kind sort of crinkle around his eyes as he offers Pomni a polite smile. His glasses are crooked on the bridge of his nose.

“Hope you don’t mind if I rest my old bones beside you a minute?”

Pomni feels her tongue go numb as she slowly nods, looking away from him with wide eyes. He sounds so much like… No, don’t think about that. The voices were digital too, and this man is not…

Kinger.

They sit in silence, Pomni trying and failing to find bliss in the bustle of the park and Not-Kinger flipping casually through the pages of his book. At the swingset a girl tumbles off of the swing, and a boy nearby begins laughing at her. Pomni cringes a bit, tugging harder on her sleeves. Not-Kinger pauses in the middle of flipping a page, glancing in her direction over the rim of his glasses. Pomni hopes he’ll say nothing but–

“Y’know,” he starts, adjusting his glasses as he closes his books. “When I was a kid I thought it was silly how adults called bullying between the boys and girls “flirting”. How is pulling braids and kicking ankles flirting?” Not-Kinger scoffs, and even that sounds kind. “Sometimes meanness is just… mean.”

“Yeah,” Pomni whispers, peeking up at him. “Sometimes it’s… defensive, though.”

Not-Kinger looks down at her, something solemn in his gaze. “That’s true, but it does no good if there’s no communication does it?”

Pomni thinks about Jax, pushing her away when she tried to hug him… Screaming in her face that she was—

Delusional.

Plaything.

Lame.

She blinks rapidly when the edges of her vision begin to blur. “Is it bad to want to give someone the benefit of the doubt, even when they’re…” She gestures vaguely toward the swing set. “Mean?”

Not-Kinger shrugs, looking off at some distant thing. “I suppose if you truly think there’s something worth saving in them. If not you’re just hitting your head on a padlocked door.”

They return to silence, sitting heavy on their shoulders now, until an alarm on Pomni’s phone goes off and she startles upright. “Shoot, I have to get to work. I–” She looks at Not-Kinger, smiling quickly. “It was nice to meet you,uh–”

“Abel,” he offers kindly. “And it was nice to meet you as well. I hope I didn’t bring down your mood too much, dear.”

“No, no, not at all!” Pomni waves one hand dismissively as she clears the alarm and gets to her feet. “Have a good rest of your day Abel, I’m– Uh– Christine.”

Abel– not Kinger– nods, moving to open his book once more. “Have a good afternoon, Christine.”

The days pass full of puff pastries and double shots, and Pomni feels comfortable in the monotony of the workflow. Sometimes, beneath the buzz of the stereo system playing classical music for the patrons, she can almost convince herself that things are normal. She can almost relax her shoulders, until the bell chimes over the entrance and she looks up and sees—

Him. Not-Jax, walking into Lucky Latte without a care in the world. Pomni stares wide-eyed from behind the counter, thankful for the fact that she’s barely taller than the display shelf. He has shaggy black hair with faded blonde tips, like he couldn’t be bothered to keep up with the maintenance, and he’s wearing a massively oversized gray hoodie that looks both comfy and laid back. Pomni has a brief moment of jealousy– her work shirt has felt uncomfortably tight all day– before his eyes finally find her and she watches in horror as recognition blossoms in his expression.

God, she had hoped he wouldn’t remember the face of the girl who had squeaked at him before running away like he was trying, but the way he began moving faster toward the counter told her he most certainly did– and he had questions she couldn’t answer.

“Hey, are you–”

Brandon thankfully steps up to the register, customer-friendly smile bright on his face. “Welcome to Lucky Latte! What can I get for you?”

Not-Jax is still staring at Pomni and she can’t bring herself to look away. His eyes are green. He has freckles clustered prominently on his nose. He has a ring through his nose and a few studs in both ears and—

“Excuse me? If you’re not gonna order, I need to move on to the other customers.”

Not-Jax looks away, rolling his shoulders back as he laughs. “Sorry, sorry. Uh, lemme just get a… I don’t know, what do you recommend?”

It takes Pomni a moment to realize he’s speaking to her. She blinks a few times, eyes darting from Brandon– confused, staring down at her– to Not-Jax, before she slowly turns away, pulling open the display shelf and pulling out an empty croissant tray. “Our dirty chai latte is pretty popular.”

“Cool… Thanks, yeah, I’ll have the dirty chai then!”

Pomni quickly walks away, swapping places with another coworker named Anya when she slips into the kitchen. She barely notices she’s shaking until she grasps the edge of a counter and feels her entire body struggle to go still. The edges of her vision are blurry and trembling, the tips of her fingers feeling numb where they grab at the stainless steel counter.

He sounds… happier. A bit more carefree, which was laughable considering the ease with which he had bullied and ridiculed the others in the circus. But Pomni had replayed her last conversation with him over and over again– She knew that voice without hesitation.

Jax, standing in her cafe. Jax, taking her suggestion and ordering a drink, probably sitting out there sipping at it without a care in the world. Pomni let out a slow and trembling breath, pushing away from the counter as she walked back to the door and peeked through. Yep, there he was, taking up residence in a little corner booth and drumming out a rhythm on the tabletop while he waited for his drink.

“Jesus,” Pomni mutter, thumping her forehead into the door before turning away. It was going to be a long afternoon, hiding out in the kitchen where he couldn’t see her. It’s not like it really mattered though, it wasn’t likely he recognized her voice, considering she hadn’t spoken very much to him. She just had to hope that he’d forget all about her after tonight, and she could go back to pretending everything was okay.

Eventually it would be true.

Maybe.

She kept repeating that to herself, even when her body began moving of it’s own accord.

Felix stares down at his “dirty chai latte” with furrowed brows. Maybe he should have asked what made it dirty, but the short woman had rushed off too quickly and the other guy– Brandon, according to his nametag– looked at him like he was a bug squashed on the bottom of his shoe. Slouching down in the booth seat he had taken, Felix pulls his phone from his pocket, quickly opening a search tab and typing in the name of the drink.

A shot of espresso to make it taste more like coffee. Felix’s brows scrunch further. Gross. He stares down at the latte like it was intentionally poured to poison him, before he finds himself looking up toward the swinging kitchen doors. He didn’t really know what he was hoping for– yes he did– but he felt a bit like a creep even walking in here. It had been well over a week since he ran into her and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her since.

Well. It wasn’t her she was thinking of. Just the girl she reminded him of. Everytime he was alone in the quiet and the dark, he thought about her impossibly perceptive pinwheel eyes and her hesitant little smile.

He thought about the genuine sadness in her expression just seconds before he slammed his door on her.

Pomni.

Felix picks up his latte, grimacing at the bitter taste but thankful for it’s distraction. It was dumb to think she would recognize him immediately, or even that she was Pomni to begin with. Pomni was probably off in some big city living her life, forgetting about him. And that was… probably for the best. They hadn’t parted on good terms, and they certainly hadn’t met on good ones either. Felix takes another reluctant sip of his latte, telling himself next time he’ll look up the menu online instead of just barging in impulsively.

Or. Maybe it’d be better if he didn’t come back. Maybe it wasn’t healthy to create false realities in his head where the first short girl he meets is—

“Is the chai latte to your liking?”

Felix fumbles his latte, almost dropping the cup and spilling a bit on the counter when he looks up. She’s standing on the opposite side of his table, hands clasped loosely in front of her and polite smile painted across her face. She’s got her hair in two braids that rest on her shoulders, little sunflower earrings glinting between loose curls. She tils her head and Felix quickly looks away, scrunching his nose with a laugh.

“Honestly it sucks.” He watches her shoulders drop in the corner of his vision and he offers a quick smile. “But that’s my fault, I had no idea what a dirty chai latte was.”

“Oh!” She blinks, looking away for a moment before her eyes return to him. “We offer a lot of sweeter drinks if it’s not to your taste, I– I could offer a few other suggestions if you– If you’d like?”

“Yeah?” Her eyes widen just a fraction and it sends a familiar thrill through Felix’s chest.

Don’t be stupid.

He leans forward, ignoring that voice in the back of his head. “I guess I’ll have to stop by again then. But… are you gonna keep running away?”

She cringes a bit, wringing her hands together. “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up. Look, it was really late and you scared the crap out of me– Can’t really blame a girl for running…” Something flashes across her face, an emotion Felix can’t describe, before she’s suddenly leaning forward and taking his coffee from him, looking at it for a second before stepping back with a quick smile. “I hope you’ll return, I wouldn’t want to lose a customer over a bad latte. Have a good evening Felix!”

“Wh–” He remembers his name scrawled quickly on the paper cup, ears burning as he realizes he hadn’t even checked if she was wearing a nametag. But before he can even ask she’s already breezing through the kitchen doors. He taps his hands rapidly on the top of the table before pushing away from it and heading toward the exit.

Goddamnit.

Felix. Felix. Felix. Felix.

Pomni looks down at the cup, now empty and a bit crumpled in her hands, her body vibrating from adrenaline and something else she refused to put a name to.

Felix.

He hadn’t seemed to recognize her at all. Perhaps it really was all in her head, a frantic hallucination of the last person she wanted to see. Or, perhaps, the person she wanted to see the most. She let out a low groan, throwing the cup in the trash and turning away from it. She should really take the advice of her coworkers and get out sometime. Home and work and back again was clearly making her delirious.

Felix.