Chapter Text
It takes a long time before Pomni is able to visit.
The jester runs a hand along the wallpaper of the dimly lit room. Taking inspiration from the tent they built on the grounds, Caine turned the cellar into a modified aquarium, where the abstracted could be in peace whilst in the dark. Long ago, Ragatha told her the story of how they were sent here during the gun battle–how the doll opened up to Kinger and how they drew cat whiskers on their faces.
Ragatha’s voice was fond as she remembered it, but Pomni could detect the way her breath hitches once she mentioned that they were basically just staring at random fishes in the aquarium, waiting for her and Jax to decide on a winner.
Pomni–she refuses to call herself Abigail–squints as she shuffles in closer to the massive tank. The apparitions, with the irony of being made tortuously black yet with bright and colorful eyes all around, regard her with curiosity and float calmly towards their side of the glass.
The jester makes herself comfortable and watches with bated breath as one of the abstracted appears to tilt its head towards her. She views each eye singularly, hoping silently that she is recognized, but to be recognized would entail that the apparition that approached her was Jax and not his two closest friends nor Kinger’s wife. Another abstracted form glides nearby and spares her a look. If Pomni decides that she would dwell on it, maybe she could interpret the look as pity.
But she doesn’t dwell on it. And so the abstracted doesn’t pity her.
Three of them take turns floating towards her. The jester waves one hand weakly, mostly just to be able to do something other than stare. Another gently bumps their head against the glass partition and Pomni startles out of her musings, shifting pinwheel eyes to the source of the sound.
The abstracted form blinks at her once before gesturing vaguely with their… head. She curiously follows the gaze and lands on one of the–Pomni is unable to finish the thought as she stands up and stares.
One of them blinks at her slowly before sluggishly turning their gaze away and swimming opposite the distance from the glass.
And without a doubt, the jester knows.
It is Jax.
Pomni doesn’t take another trip down to the aquarium after that small encounter.
She tries not to think of that purple rabbit but it is difficult, because to not think of Jax would mean that she has accepted that he is gone. He’s not gone, she tells herself firmly, in both hope and denial. He’s… downstairs. Just resting.
She had never been good at lying in her human life, anyway. Her digital self is the same.
Life at the circus has become idle. There are no more forced adventures from Caine nor any desire to hunt for an exit. The group tries their hardest to keep their digital life going on. Ragatha has been adopted by the Gloink queen and is doted on constantly. If the exasperated grins from the doll indicate that she has found some sort of peace with it, then Pomni lets her be. Zooble gets to finally open the bar she’s been wanting and Caine has become a frequent visitor. Gangle makes drawings and Kinger…
Kinger frequents the aquarium a lot.
She once gathered enough courage to ask him how he was faring. Kinger gazed back at her, both simultaneously seeing her and imagining a different reality of what could’ve been, and answered simply: I’m fine. How are you?
Pomni registers the question and realizes how difficult it is to answer. I’m fine, too.
They avoid any talk about abstraction after that.
Pomni stares at the hot chocolate and whipped cream that drips down the side of the mug. She runs her finger along the rim of it, similar to how he had done a lifetime ago, and downs the drink in one go.
“Well,” she shifts and jumps off the stool. Gangle spares her a look, pencil momentarily pausing from another sketch. “I’m gonna go back to my room,” Pomni says with a forced aura of calmness.
Gangle nods her head and returns to her art while Pomni walks back alone.
It’s not that the circus is all bad now. The anxiety and threat of a looming adventure has gone away, replaced by a forced stillness of everyday life. Pomni is aware of what they are–merely digital scans who have become sentient–and reminds herself that her real life human body is safe outside. Outside as in, the real world.
Still, the calmness does nothing except irk her. And when her frustration at being nothing except pixels and code bubbles to the surface, the jester swallows it down and busies herself with whatever she can do.
She plays the piano now. Abigail would have never touched this. She never had a musical bone in her body.
Abigail…
Pomni thinks of her as someone separate. It is her but it is also not. She is herself but also someone else. If anything, Pomni is just a copy and not even the original.
Her feet bring her to her door.
The image of her jester avatar with mismatched pinwheel eyes stare back at her. Pomni turns the doorknob open and steps inside.
She changed her room. Once they all mastered the art of conjuring, Pomni replaced the bright reds and blues of her bedroom into more tamer shades of pinks and yellows. The pastels remind her of her–of Abigail’s–childhood bedroom.
Pomni sits on the bed and buries her head between propped up knees.
Life should be perfect now.
They can finally live freely without fear of the unknown. Caine is now a friend and not a manipulative ringmaster. A massive load has been removed from their shoulders. They are in permanent sandbox mode and can make up basically anything.
But there is always lingering sorrow. One that makes Pomni scream into her pillow late at night. That makes her stop breathing and makes her heart jump to her throat.
One that has made her so attuned to walking back to her own room with eyes trained diligently on the carpeted floor. Because the jester once made the mistake of trailing her eyes on the door across from hers.
And seeing the big, glaring red X on Jax’s grinning image reduced her to a blubbering mess.
Pomni had then rushed into his room and spent hours crying, hugging the pastel pillows and willing herself to not think of how she could have never done this when he was around. Or maybe she could’ve. Maybe Jax would have taken her in his long limbs, wrapped her in a tight hug once more, and placed his cheek on her head while she cried her heart out.
Maybe he would’ve teased her but let her cry, anyway. Or maybe he wouldn’t have opened the door at all.
Because that is what Jax is now reduced to. Just maybes.
Pomni shuffles over to the edge of her bed and opens the drawer on the nightstand. She gingerly takes out a small box and thumbs through the polaroids.
A week after Jax had abstracted, Pomni gathered enough courage to visit his room. It was mostly unchanged with his bedsheets still akimbo and chair pulled out. It was as if he only stepped out for lunch and would be coming back later.
It was there that she discovered the wall beside his bed that housed several polaroids. Slowly, almost cautiously–she flipped each one to see the circus through his eyes.
Pictures of Ribbit and Kaufmo. There were ones of Ragatha and Kinger. Gangle and Zooble. And…
Pomni’s breath hitched as she held the polaroid of her staring at the night sky during the stargazing adventure. She had no idea how he snuck in an image of her when she never saw him bring out a camera. The jester continued to flip more photos.
A polaroid of the beach adventure, where she was staring at something in the distance, which Pomni now knew as Abel. Another polaroid of her laughing with Ragatha.
The polaroid of them together in the gun battle with #TeamBadGuys scribbled messily under the photo.
Pomni blinked through unshed tears and stuffed the polaroid in her pocket before she made her way back to her own room. Before she left, Pomni chanced back another look at the quiet room and eyed the polaroid camera on his table. That was the last time she ever entered his room.
Inside her own room, Pomni giggles at the amount of polaroids she has already taken. Random images of the circus and the gang. There’s an image of when they played baseball. Another of when she tried the ferris wheel. The stars. Another image of Kinger waving. Little daily snapshots that remind her of life that is worth living.
She takes out Jax’s camera, turns it around, and snaps a picture of her teary face. She waits for it to print and scribbles down her caption before the image has finished forming.
thinking of jax always makes me cry
Pomni chuckles at the absurdity of what she’s done before wiping her face with her gloves and stuffing the new polaroid back in the box and in the drawer.
“Greetings, Pomni!” Caine calls out joyfully, in the middle of what seems like a makeshift kitchen on the grounds.
Pomni waves back easily and approaches the messy scene. “You guys making something?”
Ragatha pops back up with a grin. “Hey, Pomni! Just trying to recreate a cake that Gangle drew.”
From at the other end of the long kitchen island, Gangle holds up a drawing of a strawberry shortcake. Pomni hums in acknowledgement.
Caine titters above them in excitement. “Would you like to help us? We will be coloring the whipped cream next!”
Pomni shakes her head. “No, no. I’d rather not. Never was a chef in the real world. I doubt I’ll make something edible here.”
In a moment that is almost hard to miss, there is the simultaneous hitching of breath as everyone is once again reminded of their fate. Everyone sans the joyous ringmaster. Caine continues on without notice, “Well, my dear! Here in your new home, you can always make up a new cake! The possibilities are endless!”
Pomni blinks quickly to battle the sting that rises from behind her eyes. “You’re right,” she chuckles and takes a seat near the island. “But I’m pretty content with watching you all bake.”
Ragatha recovers quickly, as she always does. “No worries, Pomni! You can help us pick the color for the rosettes I’ll be piping.”
The ragdoll presents a variety of piping bags, all with lightly colored cream frosting. Pomni points at one with light purple icing and Ragatha sends a tight-lipped smile before swirling little flowers around the cake. Caine claps and offers kind praises and the doll offers another smile, this time more motherly, before finishing the rest of the cake.
“Hey, Pomni. What can I get you?”
Zooble is busy wiping the bar down while Pomni sits on one end.
“Whatever you got,” Pomni replies. In a joking manner, she adds, “Whatever’s your strongest.”
They laugh and grab a silver shaker and pop open a bottle of what looked like amber fluid. “Wish I could get you something that burns. No matter how hard I try to conjure, I just can’t replicate real-world alcohol.”
Pomni shrugs as Zooble offers her a shot. She downs it quickly and winces past the feeling in her throat. Zooble raises an eyebrow but offers another.
“You really know how to make ‘em, Zooble,” the jester cheers before throwing the shot back. “This actually feels pretty strong.”
They stare at her amusedly as they wipe a glass. “I wasn’t sure if I could make alcohol, but,” they shrug, “I’ve been practicing.”
This is what she always appreciated about Zooble–the way they could form a comfortable silence without making it awkward. Pomni has always been an introvert, even back in her high school days. Zooble continues to pour her a few more shots before subtly eyeing her loosening grip on the bar table and taking the bottle away.
Pomni peeks up at Zooble from beneath her lashes. “So, uhh, how are you and Gangle?”
“We’re doing really well, thank you for asking.” Zooble gently takes the shot glass from Pomni after her fifth. “You should probably hit the hay, Poms. I’ll be closing up soon, too.”
The jester stands up on wobbly knees and waves away their concern. “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna walk back to my room.”
They nod. “See you tomorrow, Pomni.”
Then, Zooble pauses, as if gently considering their next words. “Jax…”
Pomni freezes, back facing the bar.
“He would have wanted you to be happy, you know. So. Just, live for him.”
Zooble stops talking and Pomni is figuring out how to escape this conversation without falling apart. But it’s hard to pretend that everything is alright when tears are clouding her vision and her head keeps pounding. Her heart simultaneously sinks to her stomach and jumps to her throat.
Talking about Jax feels like this most days.
Apparently, Zooble feels like they have more to say. “According to Ragatha… he, uhh, really loved Ribbit.”
Pomni knows.
“But,” Zooble sighs heavily, “he… really loved you, too.”
Pomni knows.
She faces them, unashamed of the tears free-falling down her face as they slide against her costume and onto the ground. The soft pitter-patter of her tears are the only sound that echoes.
“I really loved him, too.”
The admission ages Pomni. It makes her feel ancient.
Because she loved him and he left. And now there’s a giant gaping hole in her heart that she tries her hardest to fill with but the rabbit-shaped crater remains untouched. It’s why she stares up at the ceiling late at night imagining a different reality where she chased after him. It’s why she keeps her eyes trained to the floor when enters and exits her bedroom.
“I still love him.” She shrugs at her admission, unashamed. There is no purple bunny to tease her about this. In the silence of her confession, Zooble’s eyes soften.
They walk around the bar and reach her, arms coming around to rest on her shoulders in an attempt to make a comforting hug.
“Hey,” they mumble, “it’s okay to miss him.”
Pomni chuckles wetly, arms coming up to embrace them back. “I just wish my chest stopped feeling like my heart got ripped out or something.”
Zooble leans back and wipes her eyes. “You were good for him, Pomni. He loved you so, so much.”
The jester lets the words hang in the air. Pomni sniffles and steps back, offering a shaky smile.
“Well, I’m gonna go sleep this off. I don’t know if Caine programmed hangovers, but I’m imagining tomorrow morning won’t be pleasant.”
They nod. “I’ll let everyone know you’ll be resting tomorrow. Good night, Pomni.”
Pomni nods back and makes her way back to the grounds. Her quarters were still a couple of minutes away but she could walk there with her eyes blindfolded. It must be because she became reliant on memorizing the carpeting on the way back. She’d rather stare at the ground than look up and see the door across from hers.
When Jax hugged her for the first time, she knew it would be the last. If the rest of the gang hadn’t pulled her out, would she have abstracted with him, too?
Pomni stops when her feet reach the door. Shuffling with the doorknob, she enters quietly and shuffles into the bed. She pauses upon the realization that the sheets are patterned and not her plain ones. Pomni shifts to her side and sees a wall of polaroids.
She entered Jax’s room by mistake.
The jester blinks blearily at the wall before shuffling under the covers.
Not like Jax would chew her out, anyway.
Next morning, instead of getting up and trying to be productive, Pomni buries herself in Jax’s bedsheets and shuts out the world.
Most days, Pomni goes out on adventures with the rest of the gang and tries to learn new skills, like playing the piano. Usually, she hangs out with Ragatha or any of the members and helps them with whatever they need. Oftentimes, she finds amusement in the childlike wonder and curiosity that Caine presents whenever they experience things for the first time as a group, such as them going out fishing several weeks ago.
Just for today, she wants to grieve.
Pomni shuffles out of his bed and wanders over to the small round table in the corner. She startles herself when she realizes there are now four chairs instead of three. A red chair, so obviously out of place amongst the pastels of the other colored chairs, sits obnoxiously beside the pale pink.
It’s so ugly she wants to laugh and cry.
She flicks through the small bookshelf, sighing in disappointment upon the realization that most of the books were just empty notebooks with no written words nor pictures. Pomni waves her hand in the air and imagines her college pencil case, which housed her Muji pens and markers. It appears and she makes herself comfortable on the pink chair and scribbles away.
Pomni is at a loss of what to write, so she starts off with writing: Hi, Jax.
And then: I miss you.
And just because she knew that no one else would ever get to read this:
I love you.
Pomni ends up poking around more inside Jax’s room.
She would be lying if she said she never entered here before. Once, after an adventure, Jax mentioned something interesting in the hall. By something interesting, he meant showing her his room.
She was floored back then with how much trust and vulnerability he was willing to offer. So when the whole, “We were never friends” speech happened, Pomni was more confused and frustrated rather than sad. Because him denying their friendship meant that he lied to her. From what she could understand from his character, he hated being lied to.
The jester sighs and returns back under the covers. If Jax were here, maybe he’d stop being in her mind this much. Maybe if he were here, she’d think about him less.
He could’ve just talked to her.
Pomni stares at the ceiling and the ceiling stares back. She turns pinwheel eyes to blink at the polaroids on his wall and the polaroids, flipped over, stare back.
She really misses him.
Shaking herself out of reverie, Pomni sinks deeper in his comforter and inhales deeply. Perhaps it’s the fact that after learning how to conjure in the circus, their senses have heightened to almost human-like. Their food tastes like, well, food. Hot chocolate tastes sweeter. Sometimes, Pomni is able to detect lingering scents: the smell of rust on the digital carnival ferris wheel one night she decided to try the rides. She could smell the fish they caught in a fishing adventure.
One time, many moons ago, Pomni grew curious about the snowy mountain in Jax’s memories and decided to visit it. She flopped on the snow and made little angels, which looked messy because of her cartoonish head that refused to part with her hat. She could smell it: fresh snow.
And this time, as Pomni is surrounded by Jax’s bedsheets and pillows in his room, she hesitatingly inhales deeply.
Sandalwood.
Holy hell. It’s the most comforting scent she has ever smelled.
Pomni knows that Jax would have a field day with this information. Maybe tease her about it and hold it over her comically large head. For a moment, her heart soars but then crashes right after knowing that the first person she wanted to share the news with was someone who wasn’t present.
She chuckles and is startled to realize that her cheeks are wet.
Pomni takes in another deep inhale before getting up and heading for the door.
She couldn’t let herself remain miserable. Nothing good will happen. What she needs to do right now is to live her life to the fullest. Her digital life.
God, she hoped Abby was doing better outside.
“I can’t believe we’re actual friends with the Princess now!” Ragatha exclaims as they exit the portal and back to the circus.
Kinger nods. “It’s great to see their kingdom still doing well.”
Gangle yawns and Zooble wraps one arm around her. “Tired?”
Her mask blinks sleepily. “Yeah. I kinda wanna go to bed now.”
Ragatha’s face pinkens and she looks away. Pomni blinks in confusion before remembering what the doll had mentioned a few months back when she passed by their door. Looks like Zooble got their wish in the end.
The chess piece remains oblivious, enjoying the bucket of fudgy cakebites the princess had gifted them. Apparently, they were a specialty in the Candy Canyon kingdom.
Caine floats above them, wringing hands together uneasily. “Uhh, Pomni?”
The jester switches her gaze to the flitter ringmaster. “Hmm?”
He floats downwards slowly, until both feet touch the ground. “Can I talk to you in private? Alone?”
Pomni gives a weary smile. “You technically said private twice.” She waves off the others and offers one arm to him. Ecstatic, he loops one arm around hers and walks towards the couches.
They make themselves comfortable on the couch, with Caine locking and interlocking his fingers in clear unease. Pomni pats his shoulder and offers what she hopes is a comforting look.
“So,” she inquires gently, “what did you wanna talk about?”
There are times when Pomni forgets that Caine isn’t human, especially when he fails to recognize human emotions. He wasn’t programmed to understand and feel intangible things like love, grief, or friendship. But with how much the AI has been changing recently, the fact remains–he is still merely artificial intelligence and not human.
But then he switches teary and wobbly eyes to meet her stare, and Pomni feels something inside her chest hurt. Sometimes, she forgets that he’s also trapped here with them.
“I would like to formally apologize.” Pomni raises an eyebrow. “I forgot that the gummy bandit NPCs were first spawned in the Candy Canyon kingdom.”
“Ah,” the jester replies simply and scooches over to shift her hand on his knee in an attempt to comfort him. It was clear that while Caine was still AI, he could still feel anxiety. It was especially heightened after… well… everything. “Were you worried about me freaking out about Gummigoo?”
He nods in defeat. “I… don’t want you to think that I’m using him to t-torture you. I am terribly sorry for how I acted in the past.” Caine shrugs, eyes trained on her hand. “It was wrong for me to use him when I knew that he was important to you.”
“And how did you know he was important to me?”
“You brought him back to the circus,” Caine counts on his fingers, “and you acted weird around him at Spudsy’s.” When Pomni’s face wrinkles in confusion, he adds, “Gangle was very thorough in her employee evaluation.”
Pomni tucks her hand back to her chest and sinks into the couch, eyes trailing up to the ceiling–or lack, thereof. Just endless shapes of repeating patterns and designs. “It’s all water under the bridge now, Caine.”
He perks up at the use of idioms. According to him, it was both amusing and challenging to understand what humans meant when the rest of the gang used sayings that reflected differently of what they actually said.
“Water under the bridge,” the ringmaster echoes before his eyes widen. “Have you forgiven me?”
Pomni nods. “You’re one of us now.”
He sniffles and leans over to wrap both arms around her in a gentle hug. Before Pomni could feel goosebumps arise from her skin, the hug is cut short as he moves back and starts to float. The gang had gotten immensely closer with each other, and that included Caine, but physical touch was still something she was partially averse to. The first and last hug she’d ever initiated was with Jax.
Before she could feel herself spiral down that train of thought, Pomni shakes those feelings away. Those depressing images were for when she was staring up at the ceiling of her room or buried under the comforter in the room in front of hers.
“Thank you, Pomni.” His voice is gentle. “Well!” Caine claps and the rest of the circus dims, signifying nighttime. “I shall see you tomorrow! Pleasant dreams, Pomni!”
He bows and disappears, leaving Pomni staring at the empty seat on the couch.
Caine had installed a better way for them to track down time. The sun consistently rose at seven in morning, while the moon slowly appeared by seven at night. There were no calendars in the circus and none of them could correctly conjure one up, seeing as they had no idea what the current date was.
It became Pomni’s habit to track down the dates in her mind, taking note of each passing day quietly. As of today, it was 187 days after Jax abstracted. Just a few days above six months. She could also track down the hours of the day, despite the lack of clocks. The numbers entered her mind easily. Gangle theorized it was probably because of her ability to deal with numbers.
Pomni has always been good at mathematics. The numbers always stayed constant, no matter what happened. It was the only thing in life that had a definite answer. She remembered the feeling of uncertainty and helplessness at four years old, asking her mother if their aging dog would die, and getting a vague answer. With math, there would always be a solution at the end.
It was why she graduated from university with a Bachelor’s in accountancy and worked as one for a supermarket chain. She didn’t think it would matter but she was proud of the fact that she was the chief accountant at twenty-five.
She remembers it like it was yesterday.
Pomni leans back against the couch and lets the memories pass by. It feels like she’s watching a movie of someone else’s life, but knowing it was her in the main credits. It feels like she’s lucid dreaming.
She could see Abigail–human and alive and real, not Pomni who’s digital and made of pixels and code–dreading the upcoming work day because of a cryptic email from her boss the night before regarding her future. Abigail already accepting the fact that she might get fired. Her browsing LinkedIn for other accountancy openings in a panic while at the parking lot. Entering the office with her hands tucked deep in her pockets to hide their shaking.
Being absolutely shocked when she’s named as the chief accountant, with only having three years of experience under her belt. Accepting all the congratulations in both bashfulness and concealed trepidation. Smoking an entire pack of cigarettes on the balcony by herself at three in the morning, feeling ancient at barely twenty-five.
Working her ass off for the first six months. Hearing her much older co-workers talking about clumsiness and lack of expertise in a recent project where she accidentally miscalculated and mislabeled a document that almost ruined an important company partnership. Reaching her breaking point by the eighth month and grabbing one of her old cameras and resuming her urban exploration.
Placing the headset over her face.
And waking up here.
Not as Abigail the accountant, but as Pomni the jester.
Pomni used to hate thinking about her past life. It felt like being a house of cards accepting the full fury of a tsunami. Now, she lets it wash over her in gentle waves, letting it carry herself through different phases of her life.
She shifts her gaze up to the ceiling, silent as more memories come and pass.
Abigail getting her first boyfriend at seventeen and breaking up with him in three weeks after realizing they’ll be going to different universities. Paying for the groceries of a troubled mom in line for the cashier when they realized that they couldn’t afford a pack of pasta noodles and a jar of spaghetti sauce. Trying weed for the first time in freshman year and silently promising herself to never do it again.
Sometimes, she’s seven and winning the science fair. Other times, she’s fourteen and in a screaming match with her mother. She’s eleven and getting her period for the first time. She’s sixteen and being asked out for prom.
Pomni startles out of her musings when the flood of memories gradually slows down and eventually stops. She used to hate flashbacks like these. But seeing the real Abigail out in the real world and having friends makes the hole in her chest feel non-existent.
She stands up slowly and winces at the pain that blossoms from the back of her neck. How long had she been spacing out?
The jester makes her way out of the common area, before stopping when she sees the tent. Sometimes, the abstracted members rest inside the tent. Other times, they’re in the aquarium in the cellar. Caine likes to transport them from time to time, to make sure that the abstractions feel less like pets and more like previous castmates. Zooble didn’t raise a fuss about it and when Ragatha was surprised at their unlikely cooperation, the cast fell silent with their reply. “Maybe it’s his way of mourning. To keep the abstracted here.”
Kinger was quiet whenever the abstracted members were talked about. But there were lots of times when she and Kinger would spend hours down at the aquarium, content to watch the abstracted swim and float across the other side of the glass.
“How do you get over this, Kinger?” She asked him once.
“You don’t,” was his simple reply.
Pomni fixated her gaze on him in desperation. His eyes remained glued to the aquarium. “I feel like there’s a hole inside of my chest and an abyss on my stomach. I don’t know how to feel or what to do.”
Sometimes, she forgot that Kinger was the longest surviving member in the circus. “I’ve spent so much time thinking over my mistakes and hoping for a re-do button. Maybe I could’ve talked more kindly, or maybe I should’ve listened to Destiny’s talks about an exit.” He shrugged. “Now she’s gone and I will spend the rest of my time here missing her.”
Pomni hesitates for a few seconds before rolling her shoulders and making her way towards the giant tent. She peeks inside the darkness before scurrying inside on her hands and knees.
Beautiful. When Jax stared down at Pomni in his abstracted form, it was the only word that came to her mind. In that second, she understood what Kinger meant when he said that Queenie radiated peace and beauty in her abstraction.
The jester trails her gaze upward, seeing three forms circling each other. There should be one more. She darts her gaze around and–ah.
One of the abstractions rests on a pile of pillows, appearing asleep. None of its eyes are open, but its body moves up and down slowly, indicating its breathing.
With one look, she knows it’s Jax.
Pomni crawls forward gently, keeping her eyes steady on its massive form. When she reaches close enough, she raises one hand to touch but gasps and falls backward when all of its eyes open. It blinks twice before focusing its gaze on her.
A scream is stuck inside her throat before she gulps it down and keeps her stubborn stare on him. There’s no reason to be terrified of Jax of all people. Abstracted or not, he’s her friend.
He’s… more. He could’ve been. Pomni pushes past the tower of regrets that threaten to topple over and forces an air of calmness.
She takes her hand back, instead pretending to look busy by fixing some of the pillows. He made some sort of nest around his body, having his form sink deep into piles of pillows and blankets.
“Hey, Jax,” she starts nonchalantly, finally finding a comfortable position. Near enough to speak softly but far enough that she could bolt out of here. Just in case.
He says nothing, doesn’t even blink. There’s no correlation or indication that he remembers her at all.
Pomni tucks one lock of hair behind her ear, because she can do that now, apparently.
“You, uhh, doin’ okay?” she starts lamely, while he continues to stare.
The jester scratches the back of her head uncomfortably. “Yeah, I dunno why I asked that.”
Jax’s form remains quiet, but he’s not lashing out nor running away, so Pomni takes it as a small win.
Pomni leans back on the cushions, not risking physical contact. “We went to the Candy Canyon Kingdom today. Princess Loo actually ended up being kinda cool. The, uhh, gummy bandits were there, too? If you can kinda remember.”
She makes a face and moves her hands around the air, trying to gesture as much as possible. His eyes trace the movement. “He’s like a gummy alligator with a safari hat. Pretty nice voice? Was sorta cool. Kind of the reason why I had a crush on him before.”
Pomni shrugs at the admission and bites her cheek at the way Jax seems to react. His eyes squint a little, and his form scoffs. It’s as if he’s judging her.
Immediately, she chuckles and shrugs once. “To be honest, you looked better in the safari hat. I really liked the adventures you came up with.”
Pomni gets a little braver and shifts a tiny bit closer. Before she could agonize over it, the jester nudges her elbow into his side teasingly. “I never told you how much I liked your voice.”
His eyes stop squinting and instead go wide. Pomni resumes, unbothered, “You were way cooler than some candy alligator. Plus, I loved bunnies when I was a kid. Never liked reptiles, anyway.”
Jax releases a pleased hum. At least, that’s how she interprets it. It could’ve been a nonsensical sound. It could be her imagination but he seems to sink even more to the pile of pillows, looking extra comfortable.
Pomni chuckles, resting her chin on propped up knees. “I take a lot of pictures now. Oh!” She perks up and he growls in surprise before falling silent again. She silently mouths a sorry for startling him before lowering her voice back to a speaking tone.
“I’ve been using your camera, I hope you don’t mind,” she admits. Jax remains quiet, eyes religiously trailing around her and on her at the same time. “I saw the pictures you took. You’re really good! I, uhh,” she tucks her face down to hide between her knees to muffle her next confession.
“I loved the pictures you took of me.”
Pomni raises her face bashfully, unable to meet any of his own colorful eyes with her own. “You made me look so pretty in them.”
Silence.
Not that she was expecting any response at all.
Pomni pats her thighs once, twice, before moving to stand up. “Well!” she declares, trying to hide her embarrassment with how much she admitted, “I’m gonna go to bed! Goodnight, Jax.”
She tilts her face up, two hands cupping around her mouth. “Goodnight Kaufmo, Ribbit, and Queenie!”
Pomni crawls out of the tent, chest suddenly lighter. It was the first time in six months that she actually tried to talk to him. She makes her way back to the hallways and into her bedroom, finding herself smiling as she turns off the lamps and lays under the covers.
On their next adventure, Caine takes them to a shopping mall.
“I never got to finish this adventure,” the ringmaster admits shyly. “Me and Bubble were planning to give you guys some Go-Karts and do checkpoints around the mall. But I ended up finishing the Abel adventure first!”
Gangle gasps as she reads the map. She turns to look at Zooble with excitement. “Look, Zooble! They even have a cosplay cafe! Can we please go?”
They nod. “I don’t see why not–woah!”
Gangle drags Zooble away quickly, rushing towards the escalators. Ragatha hums as she reads through the list of shops.
“Look, Pomni,” she beckons the jester over, “they have an Erewhon here!” The ragdoll rubs a hand under her chin. “I never saw one in a mall before.”
Pomni shrugs. “I kinda never went to one. Too expensive.”
“Weren’t you an accountant, Pomni?” Kinger inquires, not unkindly. These days, he seemed more lucid than not, barely needing a bucket over his head just to be more present. “My sister was an accountant and she got paid pretty well.”
“I never knew you had a sister, Kinger!” Ragatha interjects in awe. The chess piece smiles gently. “She was very smart with numbers. We often called her a human calculator.”
“Ooh, are you a human calculator too, Pomni?” The doll teases her but Pomni just rolls her eyes in jest, quelling the memory of her past job.
“Nah. I almost flunked some subjects in college.”
Kinger makes a sound of delight. “There’s a garden on the rooftop! Would you care to join me, Ragatha?”
The redhead nods. “Sure, Kinger. You wanna look at bugs, Pomni? I’m hoping to see more butterflies.”
Pomni shakes her head. “I’m not really a fan of insects. You guys go, I’ll roam around here for a bit.”
Caine vibrates from excitement. “May I also accompany you, Kinger? I’m curious to see your reaction to this! I spent a long time designing the rooftop garden.”
The three of them make their way to another set of escalators and Pomni ends up wandering alone, checking out stalls one by one. There’s a lot of NPCs loitering around, mostly mannequins of different colors, some are old NPCs from past adventures.
Pomni silently wonders about the necessity of a shopping mall–they never asked for anything from Caine after they figured out how to conjure. But he did mention that this was from back then; before the circus became what it was now. Maybe she could find some things here that she never considered making before.
There’s an arts and crafts center, so she enters with a bit of nervousness. Pomni was never good at art but back when she did her urban explorations, she used to bring a can of spray paint. She’d paint something random. She never did the same paintings out of fear of getting into trouble if she ever accidentally trespassed on private property. Little drawings like a flower or a spiral, maybe even a star. Never her signature or name.
It was like a little secret between her and the building. Only both of them knew that she’d been there.
Pomni didn’t think there was a graffiti wall or anything in the circus. She gravitated towards the acrylic paints, getting a full-set of vibrant tubes, whilst picking up a few brushes along the way and a big sketchpad.
An employee NPC offered her a basket and she took it with thanks. Pomni wandered over to the crafts section, eyes locking in on some crocheting materials.
When she was twenty, she saw videos online about girlfriends gifting their boyfriends crocheted sweaters and suddenly got a rush of inspiration. Pom–no, Abigail bought an entire set and spent two weeks trying to make something, before giving up and abandoning the failed hobby.
She really wasn’t dextrous.
Pomni chuckles at the memory before picking up some wool. She hesitates at the variety of options, feeling a bit overwhelmed, before some employee NPC takes pity on her and tries to tell her the difference between each one. Pomni merely nods as she’s handed a different spool, one with thicker and softer threads. Maybe she could crochet new outfits or something.
Caine stopped confining them to their costumes. The gang usually wore different clothes per day. Out of all the updates Caine has done, this was one of Pomni’s favorites.
The jester wore a plain red shirt and baggy pants. Her hat, which used to be part of her identity, was switched out with a baseball hat similar to a previous adventure. When the ringmaster once revealed their base designs privately to each member, Pomni was horrified to learn that her hat was part of her body.
Caine was able to alter the code with some help from Kinger, and now she could tuck her hair or put it in a high pony. She could even switch out her hats. It became comfortable to don some sort of headwear, so she still opted for a random cap.
Pomni exits the craft center in satisfaction with a paper bag. The mall is massive and there are lots of NPC families out and about. She sees the Gloink Queen take up three whole tables at the food court and she immediately walks out.
She reaches a music store and curiosity draws her in. The door screeches open and she blinks at the assortment of guitars that hang from the ceiling and a variety of drum kits in the corner. There’s a bunch of pianos and she taps her fingers across the keys as she walks by. Pomni winces at the cacophony and draws her hand away in shame.
I didn’t know you could play the piano.
I only know like two songs.
Something catches in her throat. Pomni waves over the employee, one of the gummy bandits that hung around Gummigoo, and asks if they have a keyboard on hand. He shows her different types and she settles on a simple black one. The gator, whose name is Max, rings up the purchase and boxes it for her.
Pomni struggles with carrying her art supplies and a whole keyboard, so she poofs up a small wagon. She quickly darts a look at Max and sighs in relief when he has his back turned. The last thing she wants is another NPC becoming sentient and having an existential crisis.
She wheels out her items and ends up buying boba tea from Orbsman. Pomni lounges near the fountain by the entrance, and patiently waits for the others to finish their own mall adventure.
Back in her real-world life, she used to opt out whenever her college friends would buy boba tea. Even at her workplace, Pomni always politely said no. She wonders if what she’s tasting right now accurately captures how those teas truly tasted like.
She raises her hand as Zooble and Gangle near. The latter is clutching a paper bag identical to the arts and crafts store that Pomni visited. The two sit on either side of her and Gangle excitedly points at the same bag.
“Did you buy some art materials too, Pomni?”
“Yeah,” the jester replies awkwardly, “I’m not a great artist, though. I might need to ask you for some tips.”
Gangle shakes her head, ribbons fluttering. “No, no! Please, let me know if I can help you with anything! I’d love to draw or paint with you, Pomni.”
Pomni smiles in return. “Thanks, Gangle.” She reaches out to her own bag and pulls out the yarn. “I don’t suppose you can teach me how to crochet as well?”
Zooble interjects from her other side, “Actually, I think Rags can knit. I saw her fixing her dress a couple of times. You can ask her later.”
“Ask me what?”
They all glance up to see Ragatha and Kinger, who also take a seat by the fountain steps. The redhead brightens at the yarn in Pomni’s hand. “Oh! I didn’t know you could crochet, Pomni!”
“I don’t,” the jester replies awkwardly. “I was hoping you could teach me, if you had time?”
Ragatha nods with gusto. “Of course! Just let me know when and I’ll help you all about it! It’s fairly easy once you get the hang of it.”
Pomni opens her mouth to reply but pauses when Kinger runs a hand on the box containing her new keyboard. “I also didn’t know you could play the piano, Pomni.”
Again, Pomni replies awkwardly, eyes cast downwards. “Umm… I don’t really know how to. Yet. I’m planning on learning.”
“That’s very admirable of you to learn new things, Pomni,” Zooble replies kindly. They stretch, draping one arm around Gangle, who blushes but leans in. “I wish I could learn new things. I’m just too lazy, unfortunately.”
Caine appears in a flourish. “Hello, everyone! Were you able to enjoy the full facilities of this shopping mall?”
“Hey, Caine.” Kinger waves. “You disappeared by the time we got to the rooftop garden. Ragatha and I thought you roamed around.”
The AI brings both pointer fingers together, looking down and appearing bashful. “I saw some bees near a tree in the very corner. I ended up admiring them for a long time.”
“I love bees!” Ragatha exclaims. “I used to harvest a lot of honey back at the farm. Our bees were very gentle, I never even had to wear a suit.”
Caine twists joyfully in the air. “I love bees!” he repeats.
“Any reason why?” Pomni asks curiously.
He lowers back down and sits with them on the fountain steps. “When I was first created,” he starts softly, fingers locking and interlocking together, “my first task was to draw an image of a bee. My creators were very pleased with me and often showered me with praises.”
Kinger’s eyes soften. “You did very well, Caine. You learned extremely quickly, even better than what we were hoping for.”
The ringmaster grabs his tophat with both hands and tugs it down to cover his–Pomni stops the thought. His face was basically two rows of teeth and gums.
“Thank you,” Caine replies quietly. Kinger places one hand on his knee and the two seem to share a private moment.
Gangle sniffs. “You guys are so sweet.” She clambers over Pomni and drapes her ribbon arms around the Kinger and Caine. “The circus is slowly becoming a home.”
Zooble reaches over and drapes one arm over Pomni and into the pile. The jester pulls in Ragatha, and they all sit there in a bundle of tangled limbs on the steps of the fountain. The NPCs walk by and don’t seem to mind them.
Pomni’s eyes dart around, despite knowing that Jax wasn’t here.
“Is it stupid to wish Jax was here,” Ragatha mumbles. No one speaks but their agreement is heavy in the air.
“No, it’s not stupid at all,” Gangle replies back in a whisper. She buries her head in the hug deeper. “I kinda miss him.” Zooble rubs her shoulder.
Pomni’s mouth feels too dry so she ends up nodding instead.
“Me, too.” It’s the first time she’s ever admitting this out loud.
Caine sniffles in the middle of their giant hug fest. “Humans are so emotional.”
They arrive back at the circus with a snap of Caine’s fingers. Pomni takes her wagon and trudges to the hallways, eyes faithfully trailed on the carpet, before turning the doorknob to her bedroom and slinking inside.
She puts away her paint tubes and brushes on the table, along with the sketchpad. The yarn and hooks are stuffed in a box under her bed. The keyboard remains in its box and propped on a wall.
Pomni changes into pajamas and crawls underneath the covers. She falls asleep in a matter of minutes.
When she wakes up, there is a different brightness that blooms in her chest. Despair seems to not make its presence known today, so Pomni takes out the piano and conjures a proper table to prop it on.
Pausing, an idea enters into her head.
She drags the piano out of her room, across the hallway, and into Jax’s. There, she places it on top of his round table and sits on the red chair, and taps on a few notes.
It’s obvious she has no idea what she’s doing.
Pomni found out during a particular adventure that she couldn’t randomly conjure something that she had no idea of. It was when she tried to poof up a pasta dish to cheat on a cooking challenge, but ended up with barely edible food.
Apparently, they could only make things that they knew of. There was no way she could conjure up a piano songsheet. It wasn’t like she could pull up Youtube and search for a tutorial.
Pomni sighs in defeat. There was no way to do this, if she couldn’t even start to learn. But maybe Caine could help…
She finds him in the common area, playing Jenga with Kinger. Caine gives her a book on pianos and how to play. Pomni thanks him and returns back to Jax’s room.
Learning the piano was absolutely tiring, that by the end of the day, she can barely remember where to put her fingers. Pomni ends up writing down the letters of the notes on the keys.
Jax said he learned two songs. In a petty way, Pomni wants to learn three.
Her self-taught piano lessons occur for another three weeks before she feels a bit more confident playing her two chosen songs. She knew Ragatha could play the piano as part of her upbringing, but this was something that Pomni felt like she had to do alone.
Once it hits midnight, Pomni uses her wagon to drag the keyboard back to the grounds. Earlier in the day, Pomni requested for Caine to bring Jax back in the tent and he granted her request without much preamble.
Her wagon wheels squeak and echo in the silence, so she winces and poofs better and quieter wheels for it. The keyboard jostles around and she reaches back one hand to keep it from falling.
She reaches the massive tent and takes a deep breath, before grabbing the keyboard and ducking inside.
Jax is asleep on a pile of cushions and Pomni bravely steps forward until she’s only a couple of feet away. She flicks the instrument on and holds her breath once the eyes of his abstracted form open and blink a couple of times before focusing on her.
“Heya, Jax,” she waves nonchalantly. “I wanna show you something. I hope you don’t mind.”
He remains quiet but she could tell he’s curious. Multicolored eyes observe as her fingers hover above the keys.
Before Pomni starts, she fixes him with a stern glare. “By the way, if you ever make fun of me for doing this, I’ll never talk to you again.”
He merely growls.
“Alright, here goes.” Pomni’s fingers feel like icicles and her hands can’t stop shaking. She presses down on the keys wrongly and winces at the terrible sound.
Her gaze quickly rises up to meet his and her body tenses, fully prepared to bolt out of the tent if he showed any signs of irritation. Instead, his eyes squint and fix on her, head nodding forward. Try again, he seems to say.
Pomni chuckles uneasily. “Sorry, I always get some kind of stage fright.”
She calms down her breathing and racing heart, and places her fingers on the piano keys more confidently.
Pomni plays the first few notes slowly, before opening her mouth to sing. “Daisy, daisy,” she mutters, face turning pink in embarrassment, “give me your answer, do.”
Jax remains quiet but he appears to be listening, so she shoulders on. “I’m half-crazy, all for the love of you.”
The jester continues to play, steadily growing more confident. All of his eyes are focused intensely on her. “It won’t be a stylish marriage, I can’t afford a carriage.” Her voice breaks but she powers on.
“But you’ll look sweet,” Pomni’s voice softens and her playing slows, “upon the seat…”
He remains unblinking and she finds herself unable to look away. Beautiful, he was so beautiful. “Of a bicycle built for two.” The song finishes and Pomni is left reeling.
Her fingers part from the keys and she keeps her gaze locked on his. “Heh. What do you think? Could use some work, huh?”
Jax remains quiet and immobile. If not for the way he’s breathing, she would think he became a statue.
“Anyway,” Pomni starts awkwardly and begins to pack up, “I’m sorry for bothering you! You must’ve wanted to sleep and I–”
She pauses at the sound of him… gurgling. It was the only world she could use to describe it. Was he… attempting to communicate with her?
“Jax?” His eyes focus and refocus. “Are you there? Do you remember me?”
His form starts shaking and he rises up on both feet, towering over her. “Jax!” Pomni starts to panic. Was it going crazy? Did she make it mad?
She couldn’t risk him getting out of the tent and rampaging around the circus–possibly putting the others in danger. In a split second decision, Pomni jumps up and reaches around to hug him. She only reaches up to his leg but she holds on tight, pouring every ounce of what she has into this singular hug, hoping it conveys the words her mouth fails to deliver.
“I’m here, Jax,” she whispers, “I’m not leaving you. Stay with me, please, Jax. Don’t go.”
She repeats the same phrases over and over again, until, miraculously, he calms down. Jax settles back down again on the cushions and Pomni releases a shaky breath. She makes her way back to the piano and drags it over to him.
Pomni lays down with her back against his body and props the piano on her thighs. “Do you wanna hear another song?”
He grumbles.
Pomni tries to squash down the excitement and hope of the very idea that he could understand her. “This was one of my favorite songs and the chords were fairly easy.” She pretends to glare at him. “Do not make fun of me. Ever.”
He rolls all of his eyes. Holy fuck. Was it possible that Jax could understand her? Has he always been able to do that?
She kicks out the thought and hovers her fingers over the keys again. She plays the intro of the second song, laser-focused in the way her fingers dance around the keyboard. It was a song that she kept on all of her playlists, even when ex-boyfriends would tease her about it.
Pomni clears her throat and starts to sing. “When you were here before, couldn’t look you in the eye.” Beside her, Jax freezes. She remains oblivious and continues the song. “You’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry.”
The jester lifts her head to look up at him, while Jax appears like a marble statue. “You float like a feather in a beautiful world.”
Her eyelids start to droop but she fights through the sleep trying to overtake her. How many days had she been pulling up all-nighters just for this? “I wish I was special,” she mumble-sings, before fixing her gaze on his. “You’re so fucking special.”
Pomni chuckles once when the swear word doesn’t get censored. It was one thing Zooble had begged Caine multiple times before the AI reluctantly agreed.
“But I’m a creep,” she sings, fingers pressing into the keyboard, “I’m a weirdo.”
Jax slowly bends down until his head approaches her slowly. There’s a several feet of distance between them, until there’s only a couple, and then inches, up until his head lays on top of her legs. Just below where the piano is propped on her thighs. “What the hell am I doing here?” Pomni mutters, hands lifting up and away from the piano.
She pulls the piano away and conjures it out of the tent and into the wagon. “I don’t belong here.” Her voice echoes in the silence of the tent and harmonizes with Jax’s breathing.
“Jax?” She asks hesitatingly. Pomni doesn’t know what answer she’s hoping for. Is she hoping for him to remember her? Is she hoping… that he unabstracts? That would be impossible–Kinger said that abstractions were irreversible.
Her eyelids fall and she wastes no time in settling down, using him as a makeshift pillow. Before she dozes off, memories of her real life creep towards her mind and Pomni lets them take the wheel, settling in the passenger seat in the meantime.
She’s five years old and losing her first tooth. Hiding it under a pillow and crying when there’s no money under her head the next day. She’s twenty-one and throwing up in a dingy bathroom stall of a club, with the front of her short dress damp with perspiration and alcohol.
Pom–Abigail’s first day of university. Being terrified of simultaneously making new friends and being alone. The first time she lost her virginity to her childhood best friend who reconnected with her after six years of radio silence. The regret and shame that filled her afterwards when he stopped talking with her.
Abigail getting her first car in one wave and having it totaled in another. Limping all the way to the hospital to get twelve stitches across her arm and four stitches behind her head. Wearing long sleeves all summer and keeping her long hair down just to avoid her parents questioning.
Her mom proudly draping the medal around her neck as she’s awarded with latin honors during her college graduation. The dog she was gifted during her thirteenth birthday dying on her twentieth birthday. Being on the edge of seventeen and feeling both alive and not. Turning twenty-five and evaluating every single decision she has ever made.
She’s twenty-four and saying no to her boyfriend’s proposal, feeling absolutely terrified of being together forever with a guy who never really knew and understood her. And in this specific memory, a chamber of submemories burst out.
How he never got her Christmas presents but always expected she would get him some. Him asking her for money. Her granting it with the expectation that he’d be getting her a birthday gift, but learning that he blew it all off for basketball tickets. Her screaming at him to leave their shared apartment in Detroit. Her realizing that she felt relief and not sorrow when he left her life for good.
Pomni lets these memories crash over her as she lets her body go with the flow.
She slumps down against the cushions and against Jax, and curls up next to him. She feels a soothing vibration from his body and she presses her face against it to stop tears from falling.
If she presses her face a little bit harder, Pomni could almost imagine his scent.
“Hey, Jax?” There is no indication that he’s even listening. “You smell a lot like sandalwood.”
Pomni doesn’t even understand why she keeps talking. She should shut up right now and stop crying and maybe go back to her room. But there’s no way she can do that now, not when Jax is here and he’s touching her and he’s real.
“I love sandalwood.” Her voice comes out in sleepy little babbles. “Your bedroom smells a little less every time I visit. I hope the scent never disappears.”
She wants to protect him against the world. To make him small and keep him in her pocket. To maybe get a jar small enough so she can fill it with him and add his favorite things. Maybe he’d want a little piano of his own.
“Jax,” she mumbles sleepily. Pomni has no idea why she keeps saying his name but it’s just so, so comforting. His solid weight that she leans on anchors her. The faint trickle of sandalwood mixed with his musk makes her feel safe. His eyes remain closed and breathing is still steady, and she unconsciously matches the way he breathes in and out.
“I miss you.” Her quiet admission echoes inside the tent. Here, her words are safe. “I hope Abigail finds you out there.”
Tomorrow. She’ll worry about everything tomorrow.