Chapter Text
"well, dollface, looks like this is my stop." jax hums, stepping to the side as he and ragatha pass his room. he grabs the handle and turns back to her, leaning against the door.
"oh, alright. need some time alone?" ragatha stops and turns to jax, holding her plush hands together behind her back.
"mhm. some time away from you, mostly." he smirks.
ragatha scoffs and rolls her eye, waving a dismissive hand his way in farewell. he watches ragatha walk away and eventually enter her room. only then does he finally turn on his heel and enter his own, promptly locking the door behind him.
jax then leans against the door, pressing an ear against the wood and listening for anyone lurking outside of his door just in case. once he's sure he's alone, he slides down to the ground, pressing his back firmly against the door. the corners of his mouth tug upward as his smile becomes even wider (if at all possible). everything around him seems to fall away as he presses a hand to his face.
it wasn't like it was all bad here. all jax really had to do was play along! which was all well and good, unless he wanted to feel something (which wasn't often).
but never feeling hungry, tired, thirsty, or anything at all - it can really bring a guy down. and to avoid abstracting, well, you can use your imagination. just about anyone would go the same lengths he’s gone to to avoid going insane and being put in a cellar for all eternity.
he tugs off the yellow glove on his left hand and balls his hand into a fist, then relaxes it again. by now, he'd gotten used to this body (it took a surprisingly short amount of time to adjust; maybe because he just chose not to think about it) but sometimes he wondered if this was the body he would be in forever. it wasn't awful, but he could certainly stand to go back to his old body. if only he could remember how it looked.
jax takes his other hand and reaches into his overall pocket. he pulls out a fork he'd stolen at dinner and grips the handle tightly, like it would run away if he loosened his grasp even a bit. he touches the sharp end against the back of his hand, moving it back and forth against the surface of his skin, as if he were testing it out. he extends his arm upwards, still clutching it tightly, aiming the pointy end downward towards his other hand.
he doesn't hate living. and he doesn't even really mind living here. honestly, not having to work every single day for the rest of his life and just doing side quests for all eternity is nice. but, on occasion, the idea that he's trapped here gets to him.
and that's when the questions begin. what do the others think about being here forever? how do they avoid abstracting over it? when will they abstract, and leave him behind? will he be next?
jax scrunches up his eyes and braces himself, finally bringing the fork down hard and stabbing into the back of his hand.
the pain (or, the simulated pain, rather) blooms throughout his hand quickly and shoots up his arm. he bites back a yelp, clenching his teeth together, and sucks in a breath as his eyes grow wide. he's never tried so hard to be quiet in his entire life. the last thing he needs right now is someone hearing him and come poking around where they shouldn't be.
as the pain becomes manageable, jax is able to inspect the damage closer. it doesn't appear that the fork is stuck too far into his hand, but when he lets go, it remains sticking up on its own. he flicks the handle, and it tilts back and forth before settling back to where it had been initially. he hums in quiet amusement.
jax inhales deeply, grabbing the handle again and pulling the fork out. almost immediately, his skin heals over and the pain fades away. jax shakes his head, as if it'll help clear away any of the negative thoughts circling his mind. he takes a deep breath and exhales, attempting to maintain his composure.
all he can do is just do it a few more times and hope he doesn't abstract before the relief finally takes over. he has a bet with zooble on who will be next, and he was never one to lose a bet so easily.
jax raises up the fork again and swiftly stabs his hand once more.
then he does it again. he continues until he loses count.
it's fascinating, the way he can dig and dig and stab and stab away at himself and it always heals over instantaneously. he's seen layers of his skin no one should see and parts of his body that should only ever be seen on an anatomical model. every part of himself, every inch of his body at this point, has been uncovered and the layers revealed at some point or other. he's seen what's underneath and he’s grateful it never stays visible for longer than it has to be.
a couple of seconds pass between stabbing himself and resting, and looking back over his hand, it's like jax had never done anything at all. it looked like it had never even been so much as touched. he studies the fork, noticing a few of the prongs are bent in odd ways, but that's fine. he'll just grab another one tomorrow. or whenever he feels like he's going to abstract again.
eventually jax struggles to his feet. he slides his glove back on and tosses the fork in a bin nearby. he grins widely and snickers to himself. if caine were here now, he'd probably call this a complete waste of a good fork.
he always liked to lay on his back in bed. it was always comforting to do, to just lay down. even if he couldn't sleep. he rests his hands behind his head, and stares up at the ceiling. he hums, focused intently on how the bumps in the ceiling seem to wiggle in the dark.
jax stares and stares until he decides it's time to get up again.