ʚ kana ɞ

it’s been three months since the cast members escaped the amazing digital circus. since you somehow slipped through caine’s fingers, back into the real world with no graphics or pixels.

the entire experience has been surreal. sometimes you wake up gasping in the middle of the night, expecting to be back in that colorful tent. other times, you still half expect to see pomni’s cartoonish jester sprite show up instead of her actual person.

the transition hasn’t been easy for anyone. you all keep in touch with each other in a group chat that gets spoken in every day— whether it’s a simple good morning from ragatha or a hangout invite from zooble. it was a nice pace of normalcy considering the years of being trapped together inside of an ai.

well, all except jax.

he’s been silent— no, he’s been silent towards you. waking up in the real world, he barely exchanged a single sentence with you before he was walking away. kinger updates the group chat about him, despite him being in it. pomni reassures that he’s okay, just taking things hard lately.

but you can’t help but feel the ache in your heart in his absence. all the time you spent in the circus together. the late nights, the intimate talks, the sneaking around from the others to find a corner to kiss in. was everything that happened in the circus between you just fake?

a notification drags you out of your thoughts. your fingers automatically grab your phone and unlock it, the notification bringing you directly into the circus group chat.

a selfie of pomni is displayed on the screen. a cute gangle is beside her holding up a peace sign. you squint your eyes at the blur of shaggy hair in the background. the glare of a boy who did not want to be in the picture but got dragged into it anyway.

you hold your breath.

pomni: trying matcha for the first time with jax and gangle.

wish me luck.

you recognize the shop behind them. it’s the one down the street from your appointment. a simple five minute walk if you were to slip out now. but something stops you. a wall of insecurity. you know that your friends wouldn’t mind if you just showed up. gangle’s next text proves your very point.

gangle: y/n! come join us (˶>⩊<˶)

you almost consider accepting. but would he mind? he’s been avoiding you like the plague for the last three months. like he’s embarrassed of the things you experienced together when stuck in the circus and now doesn’t want to meet your eyes. your real eyes.

is that what this is all about? were you only convenient for him to pass the time in the digital world but now that you’re out— was it different? does he have options and none of them are you anymore?

a sigh escapes as your fingers type a response.

you: srry :( stuck at home catching up on some work

not even a second passes before your phone buzzes again in your hand.

pomni: that’s fine. we’ll bring you something.

you quickly lock your phone and set it down. the thought didn’t even cross your mind that they could just visit you. you figured they’d take your answer and go on with their day.

you glance around at your apartment. it’s one kinger has set up for you after years of being lost to the real world. he pulled some strings at c&a to get you this lovely place in the city. and as eternally grateful as you were for it, suddenly you feel insecure.

the walls were plain with no memories. the furniture still smelled plastic and new. no room was genuinely lived in yet, it almost looked like an ikea display. it was dull compared to the colors of the circus.

you push yourself up from the couch and begin cleaning. folding a blanket here, fluffing a pillow there. you wash the single cup in your sink and wipe the nonexistent fingerprints off your windows. it’s not much but it kept your hands (and more importantly your brain) busy.

by the time you’ve ran out of tasks, your phone buzzes from the counter. you don’t mean to pick it up as fast as you do.

gangle: we’re outside (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

you feel your heart drop to your stomach. it doubles tenfold when a knock hits your front door.

“coming!” you call out, slowly dragging your feet to the entrance of your home.

through the peephole, pomni and gangle are front and center. they have bags of pastries and a cup holder full of drinks in their hands. your gaze travels pass them to the boy dressed in baggy clothes— as if he just rolled out of bed and threw on the closet pair of jeans.

it wouldn’t be the first time you met jax in person. no, you two officially met when you woke from your shared nightmare of caine. when you had turned to him out of everybody else and he looked past you entirely, opting to greet pomni instead.

“y/n?” gangle’s voice brings you back. she’s staring at the door with a concerned look on her face.

you stumble backwards before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

the light from the afternoon sun shines directly into your space, blinding you. your friends wear smiles on their faces as they step in and kick their shoes off.

“sorry, got distracted.” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly before grabbing the drink holder from gangle’s hands and bringing it over to the kitchen island.

“no worries. we were more so trying to get out of the blazing heat,” pomni waves off, “the sun feels different on our actual skin.”

you laugh softly, “yeah, if i could thank caine for anything it’d be for his choice to not include sweating as part of the experience.”

gangle makes herself comfortable on one of the kitchen stools, “wow, y/n. kinger set this up for you? maybe i should take him up on his offer for me.” she looks around in awe at what minimal things you’ve done to the place that makes it uniquely yours.

“he did! you definitely should if you want to get out of your parents’ place. you know he’d do anything for us after everything.”

your eyes fall back onto the figure still standing at the entrance, leaned back against the closed door. like a threshold is stopping him from taking another step.

jax catches your unexpected eye for a second before he looks away and shoves his hands in his pockets with a sharp exhale.

“anyways, here’s your matcha. gangle swears by this stuff,” pomni grabs one of the drinks and hands it to you. she pauses before turning around, “jax, get over here. this one is yours.” she grabs another cup and puts it to the side for him to reach.

he reluctantly shuffles over and sits on the stool beside gangle. you feel your heart stutter when you see him tear open a straw and blow the paper cover into her face. he laughs the same way he would when breaking her comedy mask in the circus. except this was normal and mundane. and it was making it harder for you to ignore him the way he does you.

pomni clears her throat before offering her cup out to cheers with yours. you give her a small smile before clinking the plastic cups together.

“to old friends,” she says.

“and new memories,” you add.

you simultaneously take a sip of your drinks before both of your faces scrunch up in horror.

“holy shit i just drank a clump of powder,” you cough.

pomni isn’t any better, quickly reaching into the bag of pastries for a chocolate croissant— probably the first thing she found in there.

you miss the way jax looks at you with an amused smile on his face.

“mix it first! i promise it gets better,” gangle insists, taking her own drink and shaking the contents inside as an example. she takes a long, satisfied sip afterwards and smiles.

you follow her instructions and take another sip. it tastes a bit better but the first impression definitely set the tone for how you feel about matcha indefinitely.

your nerves calm down a little after that fiasco. you almost forget about jax sitting in the kitchen when you and the girls migrate over to the couch to keep talking about your lives.

pomni has found an accounting job while gangle is now trying as a freelancing artist. you can only talk about school and how rough it is getting back into a classroom setting after all these years.

you close your eyes for a moment and see a jester and string of red ribbon before opening them and seeing your true friends. a smile washes over your face at the familiarity of it all.

when the sun starts to fade, gangle is first to leave. she plans to catch the bus to make it home sooner. pomni hangs around a bit longer as the moon begins to grace the sky.

“i should get going too. i’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” pomni sighs before standing and smoothing her clothes over.

you can’t help but frown and stand too. “it’s not that late,” you say and she only playfully rolls her eyes.

“besides, i think you two have some stuff to catch up on.” she gives you a knowing look that makes you furrow your brows.

you follow her gaze and see jax still hunched over your kitchen island, phone in hand but he’s frozen like he’s been listening this entire time. your heartbeat starts to pick up again as you nervously turn back to pomni.

“wait, are you sure you want to leave? i’ve got uno!” you weakly insist.

pomni has a mischievous smile dancing on her lips as she quickly grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder, “yep! im sure. i gotta pay the bills somehow.” she turns on her heel, hand already on the doorknob. “i’ll see you this weekend! jax, you better be there too.” she gives him a knowing look before slipping out, slamming the door shut behind her.

you stare at the empty space that she occupied. the air suddenly feeling thicker and hotter in your apartment. you risk turning around and see jax already looking at you.

“you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

your stomach does a flip as a lazy smile tugs at jax’s lips. “what? kicking me out so soon? not gonna lie, i thought you’d be a better host than this, y/n.” he slides off the stool and leans over the back of the couch nonchalantly.

you furrow your brows at his calm composure. like the last three months of ignoring you after years of being together didn’t affect him. but you know jax. and you know just how nerve wracking this moment is, even for him.

so instead, you sit back into the couch. you don’t lean against it to avoid making any physical contact but you sit comfortably and pat the spot next to you for him to join.

jax pauses and for a moment, you think he won’t take the bait but he quickly lifts himself over the back and lands on the cushion beside you.

“how have you been?” you cringe internally at the small talk. you hate it. you know he hates it. but it feels like your only lifeline right now.

the boy steals a glance at you before crossing his arms, “about as good as i can be after getting my life back after it was stolen for nearly a decade.”

you notice how real his answer is— no joking deflection, no hurling insult. just an honest answer to your question.

“you look like you have your shit together.”

the swear catches you off guard. it’s the first time you’ve ever heard one from him without the cartoonish censor bleeped over it.

you nervously laugh it off, “oh, trust me. i don’t.”

it falls silent after that. neither of you try to fill it. back in the circus, this would’ve been fine. you were used to comfortable silences together, just existing in the same space as each other was enough sometimes.

but this isn’t the circus and this was far from a comfortable silence. its awkward and you feel the moment stretching longer than it should. you start to fidget with your fingers.

“i—“

“i—“

both of you freeze when you speak at the same time. the look in his eyes are unreadable. you stay paused in the moment for a bit longer before he breaks it.

“you go first,” he gestures lazily at you before faltering back into the couch.

you clear your throat and readjust your sitting position, tucking your knees up right below your chin. “i just wanted to say im sorry. if i made you feel weird or anything since we uh… woke up.” you hug your legs protectively as you look anywhere but him.

jax doesn’t say anything for a long time but you can tell he’s looking directly at you. the heat of his stare burns into the side of your head.

“nah, forget about it.” he finally gives in.

the couch shifts and you look to see him getting up. he’s about to turn to leave but you’re quick to grab on his wrist, pulling him back. he stumbles and looks down at you.

“no. i am not just forgetting about it and letting you walk out that door.” you cross your arms. he looks like he’s about to make an excuse but you shake your head, “if you want to pretend i don’t exist and that the last seven years meant nothing then be my guest. but you have to tell me that’s what you want to my face instead of walking away again.”

jax furrows his brow at the sudden attitude and instinctively shoves his hands back into his pockets, “oh jesus christ, can’t you just take the hint? i don’t wanna be around you anymore.”

“i don’t believe that. otherwise you wouldn’t have let pomni and gangle drag you to my apartment today.”

he can’t argue with that. he’s spent years saying no to gangle and he knows exactly how to evade pomni. if he really wanted to, he could’ve just slipped away somewhere down the street on the walk here.

the air stills between you as you wait for his response. it’s not a satisfying one.

“fine! you caught me. i wanted to see the way your face dropped when i walked in through that door after pretending you don’t exist anymore!” a sarcastic grin spreads across his face.

“im not hearing you say it.” you press further.

“because i don’t need to!” he throws his arms up dramatically before running a hand down his face, “why can’t you just move on? you keep acting like we’re supposed to go back to how we were in the circus because what? because we’re human now? newsflash, y/n, but we’re not in the fucking circus anymore!” he waves his hands in front of your face as if to break you from some trance.

you don’t flinch. “then tell me to back off.” he face falters for a second. “tell me you don’t want me in your life anymore and i’ll remove myself from it. i won’t show up to any group hangouts you go to and you will never hear from me again.” the nerves you’ve spent three months nursing finally spilling out from you. you shake in your spot but you don’t step away. “you just need to tell me, right here, right now.”

jax opens and closes his mouth a few times before his jaw tightens. you recognize the motion of him having inner turmoil— like he doesn’t know what to say out of the dozen of options floating in his head.

a hand flies into his hair as he sighs and turns around. his leg begins to bounce, a habit he seemingly hasn’t broken since no longer having the form of a rabbit.

“you… weren’t what i expected.” he says softly and turns back around, both hands running down his face as he sinks back into the couch. his eyes never meet yours.

“what?”

“shut up. you wanted me to talk, so im talking.” you can hear the eye roll in his tone. “i didn’t bother thinking about how life would be outside of the circus. so when we actually got out and i saw you for the first time i—“ he cuts himself off and stares at the opposite wall ahead of him. “i panicked.”

your harsh glare softens slightly as you slowly lower yourself back into the couch, keeping your distance from him on the other side.

he continues, “all i could think about was how much of a life you had ahead of you and that i didn’t have a spot in it anymore.”

jax shifts tensely, not knowing what to do with himself after such a vulnerable confession. you aren’t exactly sure if you know what to do with it either.

“you’re so stupid.”

he groans, “cool. just spilled my heart and guts out to you and all you’ve got is name calling? go fuck yourself—“

“why would you just assume there wasn’t space for you anymore?” you ask softly.

he finally looks up and sees the way you’re back into your protective position, arms wrapped around your knees. you did that even back in the circus.

“i don’t know. you’ve got these annoying bright eyes and the way you looked at me when you woke up made what we had suddenly feel so real.” he throws his head back to stare at the ceiling, “i spent years pushing the thought down but standing face-to-face with you in the real world just brought everything back to the surface.”

jax exhales heavily. like the confession took everything in him. which, knowing him, it probably did. “like i said. just forget about it. forget about me.”

“you’re pushing me away because you want to protect yourself,” i slowly muse, “that sounds familiar.”

he lets out a breathless laugh, almost unbelieving. “yeah. the first time we met in the circus.”

“and how did that work out for you?”

“it didn’t.” he turns to fully face. it’s the first time you’re able to see him up close. the real him.

your eyes trace the shadows that fall over his face that blends in with his shaggy brown hair. he has big brown puppy dog eyes which is a stark contrast from the yellows you’ve spent years looking into. but this was still your jax. the same stupid rabbit you fell in love with. you can tell in the way he carries himself and the way he awkwardly flattens his lips. his nose even twitches still if you catch it at the right moment.

“i don’t think i’ve ever thought about my future for a second and didn’t see you in it.” you softly say. “rabbit or human. it never mattered to me. all that did was you.”

jax looks away. “don’t just say things like that. it’s embarrassing— for you, not me.” you see right through his deflection.

“you like it.”

without another word, you shift closer to him on the couch. close enough so your knees touch. he doesn’t pull away this time. not after doing so everyday for the last three months.

the space isn’t completely the same as before between you but the weight on your shoulders feels lighter.

jax gently rests his hand on your knee, still refusing to look at you with a heated blush down his neck. it’s fine though because when you look at him, this is the jax you know— not the boy who's been running but the stupid dork beside you who thinks he’s too cool to be here in this moment.

eventually, the moon shines through the window making the speckles of dust easier to see afloat. a reminder of how much more real this is compared to the pixels of the circus. how real and warm jax’s touch is against you. you lean into it all.

when you move again, you rest your head into the crook of his neck. you can feel him relax under your touch. he’s the one who breaks the silence.

“you’re prettier than i imagined.”

growing up reading all those teen magazines wasn’t a complete waste of time and money when you look at where you ended up— hell’s #1 publisher at voxtek for pop culture addicts in all circles of hell. maybe a lifetime of stalking your favorite celebrities was worth it after all.

you can’t help but smile as you type up another column, knees tucked under your chin sat comfy in your office chair. this week’s interview you had with hell’s new uprising boy band, 5 long fucking years in sweltering hot summer, had sparked an idea to create a ‘which member should you hook up with’ interactive page.

the idea was exciting until a knock on the door broke your trance. your eyes curiously shoot up to the anxious little demon shaking in their boots who just let themselves in.

“can i help you?” you ask flatly, your smile deflating into a thin line at the interruption.

the tiny thing quickly nods her head, “mr. vox has requested you to meet him in his office immediately.” she doesn’t wait for an answer before she scurries off back down the hall. she didn’t even close the door behind her.

you stare at the ceiling above you, as if you can see the man himself from several floors below him. you sigh and rub the palms of your hands against your eyes before pushing back from your desk.

vox has never spoken directly to you before— you got hired by someone in a position far beneath him and you’ve never had a reason to speak to him. you two existed on far opposite ends of the news scale from each other.

regardless, you step into the elevator and click the button to the top office of v tower. who were you to say no to the man who signs your paychecks?

his personal office was more dramatic than you expected. dark and moody lights was not a vibe you were rocking with. and what’s with the large fish tank as the back wall? you grimace a little at the decor but quickly mask it with a smile when the chair behind the desk swivels around, revealing vox unimpressed in all his glory.

“what is this?” his voice remains neutral as he throws a magazine onto his desk.

you step forward and tilt your head curiously, “my newest edition of shark beat for the week?”

“no shit! i’m talking about the cover headline!”

you glance at the cliche collage of this week’s issue. nothing was out of the ordinary— just several faces of hell’s most popular sinners and a few sneak peak headlines of the stories inside.

but front and center was a photo of vox waist up in nothing but a white dress shirt with none of the buttons done. he has a glass of whiskey in one hand while the other supports him on the desk he’s sat against and he’s looking off somewhere that’s not the camera. its a completely candid shot.

SEXIEST DEAD MAN.

“this?” you point to the large words across the top and smile when vox nods, “it’s the results from that new poll i ran for hell’s hottest demon. you won.”

vox sighs loudly, pinching where his nose would be if his face wasn’t a flatscreen, “and why the fuck is there a picture of me shirtless alongside it?”

“oh! velvette provided it to the graphics team so they had a good one to use.” you shrug like it’s obvious, “everything else was just plain boring suits. see?” you reach over and flip to the page with the article you specifically wrote for the sexiest dead man.

on the spread were your words and an assortment of photos with vox in his normal outfit in professional settings. your finger lands on one for example.

vox leans in and studies the pages. not at the photos of him but at the words accompanying them. his eyes narrow only slightly when you watch.

“you wrote all this about me?” he muses to himself, not looking for an actual answer. he continues reading. his eyes drag from top to bottom of the page before shifting to read the next one.

“it’s my job,” you answer anyway.

he scrunches his face like you just popped his bubble before looking up at you. he doesn’t say anything at first. he looks down at the magazine again, then back to you. his eyes narrow.

“who did you vote for?” he suddenly asks.

you raise a brow, “what?”

“you heard me.”

the look on his face is dead serious as he leans back into his chair with his arms crossed. he raises a brow back at you, waiting expectantly.

“i didn’t vote. i was too busy writing the actual article for it,” you admit.

“really? because it says here in the editor’s note that the author of the zine personally picked out her favorite pictures of me to be used.”

you’ve never moved so fast to pick up the issue. you scan the pages, wide-eyed, looking for something to call his bluff. that there was no such thing that slipped past you in the editing stages before publishing.

and yet, there it was. right in front of you in a small subtext at the very end bottom of the page. it even calls you out by name. the magazine slowly lowers from your face, greeting you with vox’s smug grin.

you clutch it close to your chest, “that’s not… supposed to be there. i’ll bring this up to—“ you’re cut off by vox shaking his head and holding his hand out with a come hither motion. you place it back into his hand.

“i think i’ll keep this copy. it’s not everyday something is written about me in such adoration. it’s cute.”

you purse your lips. the real reason why you were called up here in the first place is long forgotten in your mind.

“in fact, i’ll get another one too and frame it for my wall.” he gestures to the one beside you that has more framed posters and pictures of him and the other vees. “maybe i’ll even keep one on my nightstand.”

“that’s… a lot of copies.” you point out sheepishly.

vox hums before standing from his desk before rounding it. he leans against it in front of you, similarly to the magazine cover image. his eyes quickly scan you from head to toe.

you can’t help the sudden fluster that spreads through your body. you were always proud of your work, so why does it feel embarrassing now knowing it’s in the hands of vox himself?

“it is,” he agrees but he places a hand on his chin, feigning a thought. “but what else am i meant to do? it’s the only glimpse i’ve got inside that pretty little brain of yours that tells what you think of me.”

you can only watch as he reaches out towards you. the tip of his claws meet your chest before he gently pushes, sending you tumbling back a few steps into the chair behind you.

a warm blush creeps up your neck. writing about him and imagining an interaction was one thing but being here in his office firsthand was a whole different level.

vox’s head tilts down to watch you from his position. a smirk threatens his lips. “sit. stay awhile. i want to hear more about how hot you think i am.”

you knew exactly what to write about next.

not for shark beat.

it was borderline insane how many packages you had shipped to your home. your neighbors thought you were an obsessed shopaholic and they weren’t entirely wrong.

at first it was small. one box here for a figurine, another box there for a phone charger replacement. but once prompted for your card info to be saved so checkout would be easier for next time, swiping became so effortless.

you’d receive at least three packages a day. which, in this economy, was plenty. even the delivery boy started recognizing you.

“y’know, im starting to think you’re just ordering a whole bunch a junk,” he tells you one morning.

you were taken aback at the off script interaction. usually it was just a quick “here you go” and “thank you” response. he’s never said anything more than that before now.

“oh uhm,” you look behind as if there could possibly be a second person you didn’t know about that he was talking to, “yeah. i know it's a lot.”

he holds out your package lazily, “you think this constitutes as only ‘a lot’? i know your address by heart at this point— you’ve got a serious problem.”

your fingers take the package from his hands. you clutch it to your chest sheepishly. “it’s addicting!” you weakly defend.

“yeah whatever.” the boy only shakes his head like he can’t be bothered any longer and leaves back to his truck.

you watch as he drives away before slipping back inside and ripping open your newly arrived package.

you see him again the next day with your overnight delivery order. it’s a box this time, about half the size of him. you hear him pull up and the front door is already open before he can even knock.

“so now you’re ordering furniture?” he gives a judgmental look once he walks up the steps.

“it’s a rolling cart,” you point out.

he only rolls his eyes, “i know. im the one who had to carry it.” he eases it with surprising gentleness into your arms to make sure it doesn’t drop.

once you set it down behind you back, he turns on his heel again to walk away. transaction complete.

“what’s your name?”

he pauses in his step. this time, he’s taken aback by the sudden change in conversation. he turns back around and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“why?” he tilts his head slightly, scrunching his face in confusion. “you hitting on me or something?”

“what? no,” you can’t help but laugh at the assumption, “you know my address by heart. i should at least know your name.”

he just stares at you. like no one has ever asked his name before. for a moment, you almost think he’s not going to answer.

“jax,” he says. “i’d ask yours but uh,” he points to the delivery scanner in his other hand. he already knows it. he’s seen it nearly everyday for the last 3 weeks.

“oh, right.”

“yeah.”

both of you awkwardly stare at each for another second before jax turns back around and walks away. you shut the door behind you.

you spend the rest of the afternoon putting together the cart. it was a little wobbly by the end but it added character. you couldn’t help but add two uneven googly eyes to the front of it. this was now gerald.

gerald was in the way the next time there was a knock on your door. you nearly tripped and crashed when going to open it.

jax stood on the other side of the door with his brows raised. once it opened, his eyes immediately track your surprised reaction and the cart rolling off distantly like you just pushed it away.

“are you stupid?” he asks, gesturing to the disaster behind you. “it doesn’t even roll properly.”

you look at the cart and the way the wheels jitter as it comes to a stop. you give jax a proud smile, “i built it myself.”

“i can tell,” he deadpans. he shifts your box in his arms before leaving it to the side. he points to the rolling cart and beckons with his finger, “bring it here. i’ll fix it.”

“oh you don’t have to—“

“it looks like trash. just give it to me,” he cuts you off.

hesitantly, you turn and grab gerald, lifting it over the threshold of your home to place in front of jax. he bends down and grabs one of the legs, giving it a test shake. the cart rattles in his grip.

“you put googly eyes on it,” he points out while his other hand comes up to steady the two pieces together.

you nod, “i did. you delivered those too. a while ago.”

jax snaps the leg fully into the wheel piece and smoothly rocks the cart a bit. the wobble is gone. he slides it back over to you.

“there. don’t order anymore furniture. you suck at building,” he shakes his head before leaving.

you bite back a smile before grabbing the package he left and heading back in. it’s heavier than most of the things you usually order. when you cut the tape open, you flip the box over to get the 12 count of energy drinks out easier.

gerald is less in the way this time when you hear the familiar knock a day later. no need to dodge and weave pass to answer the door.

the boy has another box tucked under his arm. it looks like it weighs absolutely nothing under him.

“im starting to think you just want to see me,” he grins cheekily, not yet offering you the order.

“are you the only delivery boy this town has?”

jax only shrugs. “there’s others but i handle east hill orders. we usually divide up the areas and pick to deliver more efficiently.”

you quirk a brow, “so you choose to deliver my packages?”

he grin twitches for a second. like he had just been caught. but he doesn’t show any further signs of it.

instead, he takes the box and shoves it into your hands. “no. i pick this route so i get paid more. your orders make up majority of the day’s deliveries.” he crosses his arms.

“is that so?” you laugh, stumbling at the weight of the box before setting it down.

“yeah, it is. you should get some serious help,” he says but he still wears that easy going smile.

jax doesn’t give you anytime to respond before he’s on his way again. he offers you a lazy wave over his shoulder and makes eye contact with you from the driver's seat as he drives away.

the box today was full of various snacks. but instead of putting them away in your cupboard, you keep them aside from your normal stash.

you don’t see him again the next day. there’s no mail on sundays. and you don’t see him the day after, or the one after that— being out of town to visit a friend.

he notices the way your packages came all at once and now not at all. he checks the east hill order list daily when he clocks in to see whether your name is on it or not. when it’s not there, he picks a different delivery route.

the east hill route has the least amount of packages after all. always has been. with and without your orders.

by the third day, he’s irritated. he can’t tell if it’s because of you or because of himself when he cut the conversation short with the certainty that he’d see you again on monday.

a week has passed the next time jax sees your name on the order list again. he’s never accepted a route so quickly. even he was caught a bit off guard at his own eagerness. he shakes it off.

he takes the familiar road to your place, avoiding a pothole in your neighborhood that he’s learned like the back of his hand. he grabs one out of many packages with your name on them, saving the others to deliver sporadically later in the day.

it wasn’t an excuse to see you more. it’s called efficiency.

jax rounds the corner and up the steps when something catches his eye.

a familiar rolling cart perched right outside your door with a large pair of googly eyes tacked on the front. all three tiers were filled with snacks and drinks.

he approaches it with curiosity. a note with loopy handwriting sits on the very top tier, on top the bags of chips and candy.

it’s addressed to him.

his fingers find themselves snatching the piece of paper and unfolding it. his thumb traces over the words thoughtfully.

jax.

i figured since you work so hard to deliver all my packages that i should show you my thanks.

now whenever you come, you can take a snack to go! i’ll make sure the shelves are always stocked.

thanks for bringing me all the stuff i order.

(p.s. his name is gerald)

<3

the boy stares at the note for a moment. he’s seen a lot at his job— driving from house to house and seeing the stories behind them. normally, he doesn’t think twice about any of it. but he’s never had someone do something so personal for him before.

he doesn’t even have time to think about how he feels before the door opens. you stand behind it, expectantly from the notification he gave you when he first pulled up with your order.

“oh good! you saw gerald,” you smile at him.

“it’s kinda hard to miss.” he looks around the tiny porch that’s barely yours.

“i guess you’re right.” you reach your hands out for the package in jax’s grip. he barely even registers the movement. “do you like the stuff i picked? i didn’t know what you’d want so i just got things i liked.”

he scrunches his face, “you’re showing your appreciation with your favorite snacks?”

you nod, “yeah! whatever you don’t take, i can eat.”

jax can’t help the grin that tugs on his face. he chalks it up to just the warm weather. he looks between you and the cart again, making sure he’s seeing things right before shaking his head.

“you’re an idiot,” he says. but he grabs a drink. and then some goldfish.

you smile before handing him back the package he just gave you. he looks at it confused.

“also for you.”

the boy slowly tucks the snacks in his pocket and takes the package back. he eyes it suspiciously before his eyes flicks back to your own.

once you don’t let up, his fingers grip the tear away and rips it open. he digs into it for a moment before finding what’s inside and pulls it out.

a blue t-shirt unravels in his hands. he grabs the other side to hold it up properly. across the front, in a darker blue shade reads #1 mailman.

jax deadpans at what might be the ugliest thing he’s ever seen. “im not wearing this shit.”

but behind the shirt, his gaze catches yours and sees the way you watch in complete excitement. like you’ve been waiting for this moment all week.

he sighs loudly before turning the fabric in his hands and slipping it over his head. he looks down at the dorky outfit and internally cringes.

“i like it,” you nod in approval.

and as if your opinion was suddenly all that mattered in this world, jax feels his shoulders relax for once.

spudsy’s was one of jax’s least favorite adventures to date. the endless drone of time, the sizzling of grease, the idiocy emitting off ragatha. it all weighed heavily on him as he watched the clock tick down the seconds until shifts end.

you were assigned a flex shift— helping pomni bring orders out during rushes and assisting with drive-thru work when cars wrapped the building. it was easy for the most part, the hardest bit being to step over ragatha’s ragdoll body lounged over the middle of the kitchen.

the scratchy uniform clings to your back as you make another hop over your friend, “are we sure we can just leave her like this?” you glance over your shoulder to your friend on the floor.

“im only… mildly concerned. kinda was just hoping it comes down eventually,” zooble shrugs. they’re careful when sliding a patty and bun over to the packing station.

a familiar laugh fills the kitchen. you turn back to see jax leaned against the drive-thru window. his usual grin spread across his face. “oh please. don’t act like she’s not better like this. a whole lot less talking about the power of friendship.” he smugly crosses his arms.

zooble’s eye twitch, “jax, we all know you don’t care. you don’t need to verbalize it all the time.”

the rabbit leans forward to speak again but you step in before he can get anything out.

“hey zooble, your patty is burning.”

they look at the cartoony fire that’s started on the grill and immediately turn back to nurse it out.

you turn jax away from the whole ordeal, back to the drive-thru alcove before grabbing a cup to fill for an order he’s behind on.

he’s first to speak again, “oh, come on. you’re really roleplaying this thing too?” he gestures to you actually following a customer’s order. “i’ve just been mixing a bunch of sodas together.”

“i’ve found that indulging in it makes the time go by faster.” you shoot him a look.

“yeah and i’ve found that this is a whole bunch of b$?!&#+ and waste of time altogether.” he groans. “can we ditch this? let’s go sit in my car or something. anything to get outta here.” he clicks aimlessly at the order screen, ringing up whoever’s in his headset for 99 burgers.

you snap on the lid and shove the drink into his gloved hands, ushering him to hand it out.

“do you even have a car?”

jax holds up a pair of car keys from his pocket, “i guess.” he shrugs.

you only shake your head and bite back the smile threatening on your lips.

he leans against the wall, watching as you fix all the messed up orders he imputed. he can’t help the way his eyes track your every action. how you bounce between stations to keep up.

occasionally, you’d hand him something that he’d just lazily throw out the window, his gaze not leaving you.

“jax,” you warn when you catch him not even bothering to hide tossing the drink you just handed him over his shoulder. the contents of it spills over the npc’s car.

“what? i told you im bored. take your fifteen so we can go make out in a broom closet.” his smirk widens comically.

you throw a fry at his head which he easily dodges.

“im serious!” he throws his hands up dramatically. “im so over this stupid adventure.”

reaching up, you push his visor down over his face and sighs. “tell you what. once we get off, let’s go watch a movie.”

he deadpans. “a movie? really?”

you shrug before sidestepping him and leaning out the window to hand another order. “or we could do nothing and i’ll just go home. watch a movie without you.”

“no, no. i’ll watch the movie,” he acts nonchalant as he looks off to the side with an annoyed look, “got nothing else to do.”

jax finally indulges— taking the next bag from your hand and handing it to an npc, barely checking if they even have a grip before letting go. he still hated every aspect of this, but it was a tiny bit less miserable for him.

time passes quicker. you don’t even realize how many orders you get through. the repeated motions give your hands something to do. something to take your mind off of.

the rhythm is broken when a sudden crash rings from back in the kitchen. you both peek out the alcove, curious eyes drag down to ragatha who’s now on the ground with the new batch of fries sprawled out around her.

jax playfully rests his chin on top of your head while assessing the damage.

she lifts a lazy hand when she sees you towering over her. her mouth moves but nothing comprehensive comes out of it.

“nice going.” jax gives her an unimpressed look.

but you’re already moving over her, “i’ll be in the broom closet.”

his ears perk up and he instantly falls into step beside you, leaving the drive-thru unintended entirely. he leans in boyishly, “oh? finally taking me up on my offer?”

“no, you idiot. im grabbing a broom.”