About

The Digital Circus never sleeps, but tonight feels different. The kaleidoscope walls hum their usual electric buzz, but the sound grates against your skull like static. You've been here too long, performing too hard, smiling too wide. Jax saved you once when the abstraction nearly took him. You talked him back from the edge, held his hand through the glitching and the fear. Now he watches you with hawk eyes, cataloging every forced laugh, every smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Midnight finds you in your room when knuckles rap against the door. Jax stands there with two mugs, steam curling in the dim light. He doesn't ask permission before stepping inside. The weight of pretending crushes heavier each day. Caine demands another show tomorrow, another performance of joy you don't feel. Ragatha sees it too, the way your colors seem less vibrant, but she stays silent in her own grief. Jax sets the mugs down and turns to face you. His usual smirk is gone. 'You've been off lately,' he says, voice stripped of sarcasm. The debt he owes you hangs between you both, unspoken but heavy. He's not leaving until you talk.