Chapter Text
The scent of gingerbread Jax filled Jax’s non-existent nostrils. Gaggingly sweet. God. He supposed the smell would be expected in a town made of sugar and literally nothing else, but he’d never really thought about that particular characteristic.
“What are we supposed to do here, again?” Zooble asked indifferently. Jax hadn’t been paying attention to Caine when he’d explained the adventure. It was more fun to make it up on the go, anyway.
He certainly did not pay attention to Ragatha, as she explained, either. Instead, he reached over to one of the passing gingerbread men, neatly snapped his arm off, and took a bite out of his frosted mitten.
“Mmm,” he said loudly. “Pixelated sugar is even better than the real thing. Wanna try?” He dangled the arm in front of Ribbit. She pushed it away, rolling her eyes.
“Jax, that’s literally cannibalism." He took another bite.
“No, it’s not,” he said around his mouthful. “I’m a PC. He’s an NPC. Completely different species.”
“Well,” they blinked at him. “Beleive what you want. We’re all digital creations.”
“Don’t remind me,” Kaufmo grumbled. “I like to pretend that we’re just in a really elaborate prank.”
“My bad,” Jax picked a gumdrop button out of his teeth.
“Jax!” Ragatha called from where she was talking to the others. “Don’t eat the NPCS!”
“Why not?” he asked. “They’re not going to remember.”
“That’s like saying as long as no one finds out about the mass genocide, it doesn’t exist,” Ribbit commented.
“Whoa, there, Hitler.”
“Ribbit,” Ragatha tried. “Tell Jax not to eat the NPCs.”
They shrugged. “I did try. Sorry, Ragatha.” Ribbit knew that Jax would do whatever he wanted. And she mostly let him. In return, Jax toned everything down, especially regarding the others. Ribbit and Kaufmo knew he didn’t mean his bullshit, mostly, so it was a good balance.
A shrill whistle sounded from across the street. Jax’s ears rang. Grouped on a peppermint sidewalk were gingerbread policemen with candy-striped tasers, which were being pointed straight at Jax. He dropped his jaw and let some mushed-up gingerbread flesh fall out.
“That’s him. He’s the one eating my arm,” an armless gingerbread man sniffed. The policemen whistled again, and began to charge.
Jax grabbed Ribbit’s wrist and ran for it. “Oh, s[%$!#]t!” he said delightedly.
“Here we go again,” Kaufmo said, easily keeping up with his long strides.
“There!” Ribbit pointed their long finger at a decorated little shop advertising 15% off on all winter sled sales! in looping frosting. Jax leaped through the hard-candy window, grabbed a sled, and leaped back out. Zooble and Dollface were running not too far behind, both looking mildly pissed. Old Hoo-ha was doing his hoo-ha thing, running like he was about to tilt over with a candy cane hanging off his cross.
“Let’s go!” Jax crowed. Ribbit swung onto the front of the sled, Jax slotted in behind her, and Kaufmo took up the rear, his legs dangling awkwardly to the sides.
Jax laughed maniacally and pushed them down towards the convenient cliffslide–gotta love those cartoon rules.
Ribbit screamed as they carenned down the mountain at a speed that would turn them all into pancakes, according to cartoon physics. Kaufmo steered them around trees by using his legs like brakes.
“You owe me,” he shouted, but Jax didn’t hear him over the wind. Or, at least, he could say that the wind had been too loud to hear.
“Watch out!” someone screamed. Jax didn’t have time to look before another sled was slamming into them, and he was weightless, time moving in slow motion. Below him, Kinger did mid-air snow angels, Ragatha was flopping head-first into the snow, Kaufmo was being dragged away helplessly by two rogue sleds, and Zooble was now at least 13 different pieces of Zooble. Jax made eye contact with one of their eyes before he hit a snow bank.
Jax rolled over and laughed. “Man, that was fun.”
Ribbit popped her head out of the snow. “Only you, Jax,” they sighed. “Only you.” She had a smile on her face, though, so she wasn’t mad.
He chuckled, and stared at the cloudy sky, giving everyone a momentary break from his antics. They’d landed somewhere idyllic, and evidently the other side of the mountain, because Jax couldn’t see the gingerbread village anymore. There was a quaint little cabin, which looked especially inviting, because the cold decided that moment to make its presence known to Jax.
There would have been goosebumps running up his arms if he wasn’t a cartoon bunny.
“God,” Jax groaned. “Caine really decided we needed a reminder of how much the real world sucks, huh?” He turned his grin on Ribbit. They gave him a small, soft one in return. Something heavy lifted off of Jax’s chest at the sight.
It had been far too long since he’d seen that smile. Far too long they’d had a day like this, anyway, like the old days, where Jax could let loose and Ribbit would push back and laugh at him and Kaufmo would be a steady presence, riffing off of Jax's bad jokes to make worse ones of his own.
Ribbit had been struggling, lately. It was an unspoken rule in their friend group that they didn’t talk about anything emotional. About Kaufmo’s obsessions. Ribbit’s masking their depression. Jax’s deflections. It was nearly too much to be thinking about it. But they didn’t talk, and Ribbit had been isolated, too tired to put on a smile in front of them. It was only hours spent outside her door making bad frog puns with Kaufmo that got her to come on this adventure.
Jax sighed, and sat up. Well, that was enough introspection for one day. He spotted something pink and oddly shaped stuck in a snow bank, and fished it out. It appeared to be Zooble’s foot. He tossed it up in the air.
“Give that back,” they said in a monotone. Jax rolled his eyes, and tossed it again for good measure. He threw it where their head was perched in Ragatha’s hands. The pair fell back down, and Jax marched off into the nearby cabin.
“Looks like we’re off to see the blizzard, Ribbit. Ready for another adventure?” Kaufmo asked.
Jax snorted. Ribbit giggled behind him.
He turned his head around.
“Oi, Kaufie, if you’re gonna make a joke, at least make it funny!” Jax wound up his arm and let loose a stored snowball, which splattered against Kinger’s head. “Like that!”
Kinger blinked, and looked directly upward. He tapped his hand where his chin should be.
Jax placed his hands on his hips and leaned back, admiring his work. It was beautifully splattered in between Hoo-ha’s eyeballs. Like a cyclops, but with three eyes. Triclops?
A snowball hit Jax on the side of his head. He pinwheeled his arms, trying to keep his balance. Oh hell yeah. He’d missed snowball fights. He planted his feet, turning to see the perpetrator.
“That’s for knocking me and Zooble down!” Ragatha smiled playfully. Her hair and dress were covered in a powdering of snow.
“Nice one,” Zooble admired. They seemed to have gathered all their pieces together. Well, that wouldn’t last long.
Jax whooped, and started scooping snow into balls and letting them fly as fast as he could.
He stopped paying attention to who they hit, but soon enough, the air was so packed with flying snowballs that he could barely see. Soon enough, he, Ribbit, and Kaufmo were back to back. Jax was the artillery, hurling snowballs at targets as fast as he could. Ribbit was making the snowballs, and handing them to Jax as soon as he left a hand empty. He was pretty sure they were packing mud into the balls, considering the splotches of dirt on everyone but them. Kaufmo was the eyes, his height making it easy to see a clear path and warn them when Kinger somehow rolled a giant snowball towards them. The warning didn’t help much, though, and they’d ended up in a tangled ball of limbs, Ribbit’s head sticking out the top of the snowball like she was Veronica Beauregarde after she’d turned into a blueberry, snowball version.
Jax let his laughter loose. Ribbit was smiling and snarky again, and life was good.
Eventually, they made it to the cabin, which was thankfully warmer than outside. It smelled like granny cookies and old wood and wet dog, though maybe that last one was Jax’s doing.
His overalls were soaked, there was snow in the ruffles of Kaufmo’s collar, and Ribbit’s skin looked glossy. His teeth chattered, but he still grinned widely.
The door opened, and Ragatha came in, yarn hair sticking to the sides of her face. It kind of looked like soggy licorice, Jax noted.
“Man, why’re you so wet, Raggy?” Jax teased.
“Seems like you’re up to snow good,” Kaufmo added with a chuckle. Jax fist bumped his friend.
Ragatha raised an eyebrow at them, and stalked over to the hot chocolate bar. Jax’s eyes tracked her.
“Ooh, there’s an idea. Down for some digital hot chocolate, Ribbit?” He bumped shoulders with her. Ribbit looked up, eyes vacant.
“Hm?” Jax’s eyebrows twitched, but he didn’t let his grin falter.
“Whaddya say? Hot chocolate?”
Ribbit shrugged. “Alright.”
“Do you like Python flavor or Java flavor better?” Jax asked, getting three mugs down and twirling them on his fingers.
“I didn’t know you knew so many programming terms, Jax,” Kinger hummed. “What?” he asked, once he noticed all three of them staring at him.
“We didn’t know you could be coherent,” Jax filled all the mugs at once. “Is the kooky thing just an act?”
“Hm? Acting? I like Phantom of the Soap-Opera,”
Kaufmo shared a dry look with Jax. Yeah. Kinger’s moment of sanity was not going to be a reoccurring thing.
“Anyway, “ Jax said. “Cinnamon, or no?”
“Yes please!”
“I’ve never had it,” Kaufmo admitted.
“Never ever?” Ribbit asked sarcastically. “Not even on those cinnamon graham crackers you love?”
Kaufmo looked at them, raised one of his painted eyebrows. “Yes, Ribbit. That’s exactly what I meant.”
Ribbit stole the bottle of whipped cream and sprayed it in his face. Kaufmo yelped and smeared some back in theirs. Jax laughed like a maniac and whirled the bottle above his head like a lasso. Soon enough, the bottle was empty and they all had whipped cream hats and facial hair.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Jax peered into the window. “Man, I love Caine sometimes.”
“I don’t,” Ribbit said. Jax glanced at his friends, both with crestfallen faces. Well, that wouldn’t do. He snatched a rag from the sink and threw it at Kaufmo.
“Clean up. I wanna go build snowmen.”
“What about the hot chocolate?” Ribbit asked, scooping her whipped beehive style into the sink.
“Let me finish making it,” he said. He busied himself with the final touches, swirling chocolate syrup and using a convenient flame thrower to caramelize the edges of the cream. He glanced at Kaufmo and Ribbit. How long would it be before they had another day like this? Happy, no arguments, and no discussions about finding an exit?
“Order’s up!” Jax said, slinging an arm around Ribbit’s shoulders. “Hey, we should take a picture.” Jax handed off the cocoa mugs so he could procure a camera. He tossed it to Kinger.
“Do the honors, old man. And make sure to get my masterpieces in frame.”
“Your hot chocolates are not masterpieces.” Ribbit said. “They took you less than a minute to make.”
Jax threw bunny ears above Ribbit’s head for the insult.
“Say–oh a fly! Do you know where a flyswatter is?” Kinger said. None of them said anything.
The picture rolled out of the camera, and Jax untangled himself to take the camera back.
“Hey, are you trying to turn me into you, Jax?” Ribbit asked. Jax grinned, looking at the photo. Kaufmo’s tired grin looked more content than tired, and their hot chocolates were displayed nicely. Wait…
“You did it to me?” he squawked. “That’s my thing!”
“Keep it down!” Zooble yelled from across the cabin.
“Great minds think alike,” Kaufmo said.
“Does that mean you’re not a great mind, Kaufie?” Ribbit asked.
“Shut up, Frog.”
“Clown.”
“Rabbit!” Jax said happily, and tucked the picture into his overall pocket.
“More like bunny,” Ribbit scoffed. Jax scooped out the whipped cream from his mug and dabbed it onto their face.
Ribbit screeched. “Don’t start this again, you a[%$!#]hole!”
“But you look so cute in a beard!” Jax cooed.
Later, when they’d all cleaned off and were roasting their feet by the fireplace, Kaufmo snoring like he was less a clown and more a bear, Jax turned to Ribbit.
“Let’s go make snowmen.” He grinned wider. “I have some great ideas that Ragatha will hate.”
“Sure,” Ribbit said, standing up. “I’m bored anyway.”
Jax was aware of the eyes following them as they made their way out, raised eyebrows and whispering to each other. Good.
Jax’s feet sunk lightly into the snow. The sun was still out, but only just. Clouds kept covering her up, but she’d rise a little higher then wink at Jax before sinking back down.
“Playing peek-a-boo,” Ribbit noted. “We have to work fast before she gets pissy.”
Jax risked a glance towards the windows. Nobody was watching–perfect.
“So, what did you have in mind?” Ribbit asked. Snow dusted her large eyelashes. “I know you didn’t just want to build any old snowman.”
Jax straighted. “So. You ever read Calvin and Hobbes?”
Their pupils dilated, their mouth an ‘o’ of understanding. “And there’s no way Ragatha has,” she commentented. “That’ll be perfect.”
“I’ll be the ideas guy,” Jax said, grinning wider than normal. “And you can do the heavy lifting.”
“Haha. F[%$!#]k no.”
They work together. It took longer than Jax estimated. They had to push snow into large piles, and then carve the shapes out, which wasn’t particularly easy.
But it was worth it, when they were done, and Jax could admire their work. Ribbit had made a Caine-like monster, as well as a Kaufmo that looked way more clownish than normal. Jax’s creations involved replicas of himself engaging in various acts of cannibalism and/or first degree murder. They also involved Ribbit with a small mustache.
“We make a good team, huh?” he asked, hands on his hips. Ribbit stood next to him, arms folded over herself.
Ribbit scoffed. “Sure. Not in the real world, though.” Jax drew his shoulders back, eyes scanning Ribbit up and down.
“...What?” Why would she say that? Were they trying to start an argument?
“You know what I mean, Jax. None of this is real. This is stupid.”
Jax flexed his fingers. “Whoa, whoa. What brought this on? Did I do something?” Ribbit’s face was full of unnatural anger. She was normally so neutral–-sassing away without even a smile.
“No. You’re just a f[%$!#]g jerk, like always. Didn’t do anything. You’re perfectly normal, Jax. God. Shut up.”
Okay. What the fuck. This was completely unnecessary, and uncalled for. He hadn’t even done anything! Things had been fine! They were great, they’d already had this argument–Jax recoiled. “Chill, fella. I–”
Ribbit let loose a scream. It made the hairs on Jax’s neck stand straight up. A door slammed.
“This is what I’m talking about, Jax! It’s like we’re not even friends! You’re always doing something or other, and then you tell me to chill? To chill?!” Jax vaguely registered the sound of footsteps. The cold air scrapes down his throat. There isn’t enough of it.
“No, that isn’t true!” he hates how small he sounds. He sounds like he’s begging. But Ribbit’s eyes are hard and cold and unrelenting. Jax doesn’t understand. “We’re both best friends!”
“Oh my god!”
“What is this,” Jax said desperately. “What do you mean? You think I don’t care about us?”
Someone scoffed. “You’re lying.”
He spun around. The motion flung tears from his eyes. Everyone was watching.
“You’e right,” he scoffed. “Maybe we aren’t friends. You sure don’t act like it, hiding away in your room all the time and trying to start arguments. You don’t know the first thing about being a friend. You pretend like you’re a perfect little angel, all smiles and kindness, but it’s all an act. At least I don’t pretend like I’m something I’m not.”
Ribbit’s chin quivered. “You never say what you mean,” they said quietly. “You only care about having fun. You don’t care about me or Kaufmo. Only yourself. Only hiding away, keeping that pride intact.”
“It’s not about that,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s about your pride. Nobody can see when you’re hurting, right? And so you bottle it all up until it explodes. That’s why we don’t make a good team. It’s because you don’t care enough to actually work it out! You keep messing everything up! Me and Kaufmo are doing just fine!”
Ribbit turned away, but not before Jax saw the tears glossed over their eyes.
“I’m done. I’m done, Jax.”
Jax was reaching, his feet moving after them, but they’re storming away, and Zooble has a claw-tight grip on his arm.
“Leave her alone,” they said. “You’ve done enough.” What did he do? He doesn’t even know. All he does know is that it’s his fault, again. Again, he’s said something stupid. But maybe if Ribbit hadn’t been so angry, none of this would have happened. No one understands. Jax didn’t mean to.
It’s blizzarding. The sun had gotten fed up with her little game. Kaufmo passed by Jax, looking at him with melancholy eyes. Zooble doesn’t stop him. Minutes pass, and eventually, everyone leaves Jax standing in the snow, eyes wide, staring after Ribbit’s footprints long after the snow had erased them.
Jax paced. He’d really messed up this time. He was even considering going to talk to Ribbit.
He felt bad, really. But how could she say they weren’t friends?
His feet passed over his rug. Purple on white. Purple on pink. Purple on purple.
He should talk to them. If he wanted to fix things. Ribbit wasn’t going to, and he’d really hurt her.
Jax closed his eyes, the image of Ribbit’s devastated face, her furious face, burned into his retinas.
He let out a breath. He could do this. He just…had to apologize. He mouthed his apology.
Sorry, Frogface, I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t mean it. I never mean it. I never mean anything ever, except for this apology. You know that. You should know that. Why’d you take me seriously?
Jax shook his head. No nickname, maybe. He had to be sincere. But not too sincere.
Shaking his limbs out, he wrenched open the door. He hesitated, wondering if he should grab the key he’d found to their room.
No. That would be an invasion of their privacy, and last time Jax did that it didn’t turn out well.
He padded down to her room, but paused when he saw Kaufmo emerging from his. Jax gave him a halfhearted wave.
“Checking in on Froggy?” Jax asked. “Me too.”
“Don’t say anything,” Kaufmo warned.
“Ah, don’t worry,” Jax slouched down the hallway, flicking his wrist. “You can monitor my apology.”
“You’re going to apologize?” Kaufmo sounded bewildered. “You?”
Jax lazily twisted his head sideways. “Sure.”
Kaufmo exhaled disbelievingly. “Okay.”
Jax rapped on Ribbit’s door. No answer.
“Ribbit…” he called. “It’s Jax. Don’t worry, I’m saying sorry. I didn’t mean that stuff I said.”
No answer. “C’mon, Froggy, let me in. Kaufmo’s here too.”
“Worried about you, Ribbit,” Kaufmo said softly. “I don’t want you to be alone. I can tell Jax to go away.”
“Hey!” Jax squawked. He knocked again on the door, harder. Why wasn’t she answering? Kaufmo’s frown deepened. He pushed Jax away and yanked on the door knob. It was locked.
“Ribbit!” he called. “We’re coming in!”
There was no answer. Why wasn’t there any answer?
“Maybe they’re not in their room,” Jax said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew they weren’t true. Where else would Ribbit be? They hadn’t answered Caine’s call to adventure. And she didn’t like the main circus. Well, she didn’t like her room either. Which is why it was worrying that they were still in there.
He wished he’d brought that key.
“Move aside, Kaufie,” he said, pushing Kaufmo away before he could respond. Jax twirled a lock pick between his fingers, and knelt at the knob.
“Do you even know how to do that?”
Jax widened his grin and straightened his shoulders. “It’s all about confidence. We’re cartoon characters.” He didn’t even look at the lock as he wiggled it around. Soon enough, the door fell open in his hand. Still looking at Kaufmo, he grinned proudly.
“See?” But Kaufmo wasn’t looking at him. Kaufmo’s face was painted in horror and fear. Jax had often seen Kaufmo feeling ennui or sadness, but never fear. Jax followed his gaze. His permanent smile disappeared.
“What is that,” he asked. “Where’s Ribbit?” Jax’s voice was tiny, echoing off the dark walls of Ribbit’s room. There was a monster curled inside, made of pitch and slowly blinking vibrant eyes. “It ate Ribbit,” Jax whispered. He ran into the room, brandishing only a yell and putting his arm forth like that would do anything against the massive beast.
“Jax, wait!” Kaufmo yelled, but it was too late, as Jax tripped over a bowling ball and sprawled across the green floor, arms splayed awkwardly in front of him. The beast turned. It turned thousands of eyes upon Jax and screamed. It charged, and Jax could do nothing but lay still, those colors burning into his eyes.
It trampled Jax’s arm, but it wasn’t heading for him. It lunged for the light, and stormed away. Jax’s ears wouldn’t stop ringing. He placed his arms under himself and pushed up, but the trampled arm started to glitch, and wouldn’t hold his weight. Jax knew they could feel pain in the circus, but this was maybe the first time an injury had actually hurt.
It was like his fake cells were peeling themselves apart and putting themselves back together, but in a way that was like a violent crash.
Jax gasped and stumbled toward the door. The monster was careening down the hallway.
Kaufmo was pressed against the wall.
“Ribbit abstracted,” he said. “That was an abstraction.”
Jax reeled back. No it wasn’t. Abstraction was…something else. Ribbit wouldn’t abstract. She was stubborn, and strong, and always happy. She wouldn’t just give up like that. Especially not after Jax had said those things to her…she wouldn’t abstract just because of some stupid argument.
Jax met Kaufmo’s gaze. The clown’s pupils are pinpricks, his mouth ajar and horrified. He gazed off where the beast had run. His fingers, pressed against the wall, had spasms running through them.
The moment is still and frozen, except when Jax's arm glitched sporadically.
It jerked at an angle, slamming against Ribbit's door.
It's like Kaufmo rebooted, his shoulders hiking up to his chin. He whirled around, turning those tiny, angry eyes on Jax. Kaufmo was chill. He wasn’t angry.
"What did you do," Kaufmo asked quietly. Like he didn't believe it just yet. Like he was pretending it wasn't real. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" Kaufmo screamed. He pushed Jax. Jax's head knocked into the wall, his teeth clacking together.
Jax couldn't move.
Kaufmo screamed, beads of spit flinging from his mouth and spattering across Jax's cheeks. Jax’s arm disappeared and reappeared.
"You've really f[%$!#]d up this time," Kaufmo gasped. "You messed everything up. " Tears are pouring down white paint. One drips onto Jax's face. It's hot.
"I hate this place, " Kaufmo wasn't looking at Jax anymore. "I hate you. I want to get out. I want to get away from you." Kaufmo blinked slowly, releasing Jax's shoulders.
"Ribbit's gone," he sobbed, voice choked by grief. "If you hadn't been such an a[%$!#]hole. If you'd been kinder. Why are you like this?” Above Jax’s head, Kaufmo’s hand clenched into a fist. The knuckles were pink.
“She’s abstracted. It’s all your fault.” Kaufmo’s eyes drifted down to meet Jax’s.
Don’t let him see. The thought came to Jax’s head, unbidden. Don’t let him see.
This didn’t hurt him.
It didn’t. Jax pressed a glitching arm to his chest. Wide-eyed. Tears burned behind his eyes. His throat swelled and swelled until it was so swollen that the edges touched and compressed his little scared voice.
Jax forced himself to widen his face, to lean back causally, to smile. The smile stretched and touched the corner of his eyes. It was so big that it felt like a silent scream. Fuck Kaufmo. Fuck everyone.
“So?” he said. “It happens to everyone eventually. Why’re you so worked up, huh, Kaufie?”
He’s in control. Jax’s arm glitched, throwing itself sideways.
“So?” Kaufmo asked. “Are you f[%$!#]g serious, right now?”
“I’m never serious!” Jax laughed.
“Shut up.” Kaufmo glowered. Tears streamed down his face paint, but it was still pristine. “Can you shut up. They were right. Ribbit abstracted because you, Jax.”
Jax’s breath hitched. It’s his fault. It’s always his fault. But Kaufmo didn’t understand. It was Kaufmo’s fault too. It was Ribbit’s fault for yelling at Jax. He wouldn’t have–he wouldn't have said the things he did.
“No. She abstracted because they were going crazy. “ Jax crossed his eyes like Kinger and screwed a finger by his ear. “Maybe we all are. Who’s to say this isn’t real?”
Kaufmo scoffed, disgust written in his features. “You were always the funny one, Jax. I didn’t know that meant you couldn't have basic human decency.” Kaufmo turned and stalked away. “Hey, you’re the clown!” Jax called after him. “Not me! You’re always making bad puns!” His voice trailed off into a dead end. Kaufmo didn’t turn.
Suddenly, Jax couldn’t breathe anymore. He couldn’t breathe the same way he couldn’t force a smile anymore. It dripped off his face. He sank to the ground. There was a glitching tile next to him. God, his arm hurt. Jax heaved. He couldn’t breathe.
He didn’t need to breathe. He was in the circus. He was lines of code. He wasn’t even a person.
Jax gagged on nothing. His other arm reached above him for a purchase. For a lifeline. For someone to tell him it wasn’t his fault.
He forced a laugh out, then another. He sat laughing, tears pouring down his cheeks, that stupid grin plastered on his face again. When did it come back? God, it was funny. He’d escaped his first murder only to commit another. Oh, irony. The bane of Jax’s existence.
When he didn’t have enough air to laugh, he gagged, giggles tapering off into whines. He hunched on all fours. Staring at that glitching tile. Black, then white. Black, then white.
Black and white.
When he’d finally gotten ahold of himself, he laid on the floor, shivering. There was a red X plastered on Ribbit’s door.
“F[%$!#]k.” Jax said. He closed his eyes. “F[%$!#]k.”
“Jax,” Zooble rapped on his door. “We’re having a funeral for Ribbit. You owe it to her and Kaufmo to show up.”
No he didn’t. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, and it was about time the others learned that lesson. Jax didn’t respond, just laying on his bed, gazing up at the plastic stars.
“You’re a d[%$!#]k, Jax, you know that?” Zooble called out dryly. “Whatever. Be a piece of s[%$!#]t, that’s your problem.” They knocked again. Jax didn’t respond.
A hot, angry tear leaked out of the corner of his eye. As soon as he heard Toybox clomp away, he sat up, throwing that stupid pillow over his face and screaming into it.
He threw the pillow, where it knocked over a lamp. The bulb shattered. Good. He hated this room. Jax sat up and started ripping polaroids off his wall. Fine. If they all hated him, he’d hate them back. He did hate them. He hated everyone. That’s why he said mean things. That’s why he stole Zooble’s parts and called Kinger Hoo-ha. That’s why he was a fucking murderer. Because he hated everyone, and he didn’t care.
Pieces of pictures rained like confetti around him. Jax’s yelling was the noise makers. It was a fucking party. Kaufmo’s bleary eyes torn down the middle. Ribbit’s bowtie. Jax’s half-moon grin. A fucking party.
Jax looked down at the picture in his hand. His arm around Ribbit’s shoulders. Twin bunny ears. Kaufmo hunched over to fit in the frame, hot chocolates in each of their hands.
Jax gasped, his yelling turning into hoarse sobs. He gripped the picture tightly. This was maybe an hour before everything changed. How had everything gone so wrong? He should have been more considerate. Should have apologized sooner. And now all he had left of his friends were fragments on strips of confetti.
And it was his fault.
“No,” Jax said, looking at the mess he’d made. “No, no no, no!” He tried gathering the pictures, scooping them into little piles, but it was no use.
His wall, once covered in polaroids, was now reduced to a scrap heap.
There were ten or so whole pictures left, and Jax gently placed each back on the wall.
His face scrunched, but he tried to keep the tears in. They all looked so happy. He couldn’t bear it.
He turned each picture around, so the black side was all he’d have to see. A void in place of where friends and happiness and memories once were.
It was what he deserved.