Death Did Us Part [Jax x F!Reader]
You were all the mattered to Jax— his lifeline, his love— and in the end, he caused your abstraction.
cw: toxic relationship, emotional neglect, self-worth issues, mental deterioration & breakdown, body horror (abstraction), delusions, hallucinations, mild obsession.
The shift in your attitude began one evening, after a particularly exhausting adventure. When you’d sought solace, not in your boyfriend’s arms, but in the blanket of night.
The moon looked down upon you, shining her soft glow, but never truly acknowledging your presence.
Upon the edge of a cliff, overlooking the digital lake you’d never ventured into, you sit; knees pressed against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, and your head placed perfectly at the top.
You should’ve felt vindicated, or, at the very least, calm.
Yet a storm brewed within your chest, an ache that had been lingering for the past week, and caused your brain to fog— anger, sadness, jealousy, they all clung to you like a disease.
All because of one argument, and your foolish desire for an apology.
He just waited for you to get over it, to come crawling back to him, no matter who was in the wrong.
The sorrow always spills from your lips, the genuine attempt to repair the cracks that form is always from you, the effort to communicate when something’s a bother only comes from your side.
You do everything to make this relationship work.
And he just reaped the benefits of your efforts, using you when he desired validation and attention, then abandoning you the moment he has to take accountability for his actions.
You just wanted one thing— one apology, one attempt.
A simple ‘sorry’ would’ve been accepted in a heartbeat.
So you waited, waited as his words sunk deeper into your being, tore your soul apart as you watched him from afar.
He laughed with his friends, grin never faltering, not once sparing you a glance.
They offered you looks of pity, but never pushed him to apologize, and somehow that stung worse than anything.
The sound of leaves crunching draws you out of your mind, causing you look to up towards whoever is approaching you, a part of your heart dearly hoping it to be Jax.
You shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.
“Hi,” Ragatha greets you with a soft, nervous smile as she nears you, “Is it alright if I join you?”
The bitter anger, the hurt, at her not being Jax urges you to spit venom from your tongue.
She’s your dearest friend after all. How would you be able to forgive yourself for lashing out at her?
“Mhm,” You nod, looking back out over the cliff, not wishing to meet her gaze.
“The view here is really nice. I didn’t think you’d be able to see it at night,” Ragatha offers up, chuckling awkwardly, a meek attempt to start this conversation off on the right foot.
But you know where it’s going. She’s just being courteous for your sake.
“Yeah,” You breathe out, the cold air a nice feeling against your lungs, something you haven’t felt since you were human, “It’s alright.”
Her brows furrow, almost as if she’s perplexed by your response.
“Are you… okay? Of course you don’t have to answer! It’s just… I mean- I… okay, I’m worried about you.”
Her words tug at a cord deep within your aching heart, the sentence you’ve been longing to hear from another now spilling from her lips.
The grass glitches, clipping into the edge of their cliff where the texture suddenly becomes rocky, as your gazes falls briefly over to her.
There’s a worry in her eyes, in the way she reaches out for you but never makes contact— fearful of a rejection, of overstepping.
She’s always so kind, so loving.
Maybe that’s why you’ve stuck with Jax so long, endured his torment; never has it been malicious, but never has he showered you with praise.
That’s the love you deserve— no matter if it still makes your heart thump, no matter if you still seek his company.
“It’s fine,” The words are sharp, intentional, and odd coming from your usually composed self, “I’m fine. I just needed a break.”
A break from the circus, from Jax, from Caine, even Ragatha.
Not that you have the heart to confess that to her, no matter how much the anger bubbling up in your chest demands you do.
Not just to her, but to yourself.
“I… I really don’t mean to pry,” You pluck a strand of the digital grass as she speaks, brushing her hair away from her face, “But I want to help you. And.. ugh, sorry, this is pushy… should I leave? If you need time alone, I get that.”
How can she utter that word so casually when Jax guards it like his greatest treasure?
You barely have to pry with Ragatha, just pout and apologies are already spilling past her lips— Jax, no, you could die and he would never utter it.
Maybe an apology loses its meaning when overused, but it’s better than knowing the other person doesn’t care enough to offer it.
To know that your love, which you give with such a grace, with everything you can, is taken for granted.
“-I’ll just goooo then,” Ragatha clears her throat, stepping up from her place at your side, fabric rustling softly against the breeze, “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see you then,” You murmur lazily, despite your sudden urge to beg her to stay, to cry to her, to offer up all your insecurities to your closest friend.
She nods, smiling softly, though a sadness lingers, “Okay… er, yeah, I’m leaving! Just, uh, know you can always talk to me if you change your… uhm, I mean, if something is bothering you.”
You hear her footsteps begin to quiet as she retreats back to the tent, where everyone else is, and let the regret of not opening up linger.
It’s not that you didn’t want to— you just.. couldn’t.
Every urge you had was combated by the swirl of emotions stirring in your gut, of every negative feeling creating thousands of awful scenarios.
And in the end, you just didn’t have the energy to admit you needed help.
To admit you couldn’t handle this.
She warned you about Jax.
What would it say if you proved her right?
You breathe in, breathe out. The pace quickens with each inhale, every second becoming quicker, the air beginning to leave your lungs faster than you can intake it.
The world blurs, swirls of colors dot your vision, turning the place into a land of wonder— a fantasy filled with life, with joy.
The tips of your fingers are blanketed by black. A glitchy, cubic black that begins to crawl up your forearms.
It swirls around you; threatens to consume you.
You see shapes, vaguely outlining friends.
There’s Ragatha, a lovely pink color; her body is misshapen, but her face is clear, and holding every ounce of acceptance you hope for.
Beside her is Queenie, recently abstracted, and a mother-figure you dearly miss. The black of her figure blends in with the one coating your entire being, but you still make out every feature. Her expression urging you to join her.
A few others, small and lumpy, are scattered around too. Maybe some acquaintances, some friends who you aren’t as close with.
But there’s only one other who draws your eye, who you can clearly tell apart.
His entire body is clear, outlined in a sharp purple similar to the shade which decorates his own body. His face is contorted, not in anger, not in scorn, but in gratitude; every wish for him to accept, to reciprocate your affections woven into him.
It’s nice. It makes you feel… peaceful. Happy.
But it’s also what breaks you out of the illusion, forcing you back into reality with a gasp.
You clutch your chest, falling backwards onto the ground as your mind reels over what just occurred.
It seemed like a digital hallucination, yet felt far more ground and real than any other you’ve experienced.
Jax’s face, filled with the love you deeply desired, kept spinning through your mind like a broken record.
He’s looked at you like that once.
When he thought you couldn’t see. When, through a lidded gaze filled with an adoration which ran so deep despite how he masked it, you caught him observing you on an adventure.
So much was happening, there were things flying everywhere— you were flying— and time seemed to slow as you saw his expression, the way he melted as he watched you go by.
That mood did quickly shift when you smacked into the wall though.
But, that’s beside the point.
The point is that it fills you with a resolve, with the knowledge that perhaps, underneath all that callousness, his love for you runs as deep as yours does for him.
Have a conversation like mature, sensible adults would.
Although he is perhaps one of the least mature people you’ve met, you’re sure you can manage.
So long as you explain what’s bothering you, everything should be fine. He probably doesn’t even know how much he’s hurting you.
Yeah, a conversation will fix this all.
The halls of the circus are still, with the lights dimmed and everyone, except for you, within their respective quarters.
Yours is near the entrance, the picture of you mounted atop it seeming far too happy for the predicament you’re currently in— she’s smiling, happy, prideful.
You’re slouched, the weight of this digital nightmare beginning to fully fall upon your shoulders, threatening to crush you.
But you keep moving, a thread of hope, of sanity still left for you to cling onto.
Jax. One singular conversation, one plea with him to apologize.
That’s all you need, and you’ll return once more to that photo.
You just have to keep repeating that as you approach his door, hand heavy as you press it against the wood, knocking three times before stepping away.
You shift on your feet, a bout of nerves overtaking your body as you worry if he didn’t hear. He’s likely fast asleep, enjoying a moments peace, which you’ve just completely shattered.
Maybe you should walk away and wait until morning.
That might be more appropriate.
But, just as you take a step back, the door creaks open, and a very annoyed bunny greets you.
“Ugh- what could you…” He groans, head poking out, until he catches sight of you, and his frown shifts into that ever-confident grin, “Oh, sneaking around to see me now, huh? Didja finally come to your senses, doll. Here to apologize, hm?”
You almost smack him and walk away after that.
But you’ve steeled your resolve, you’re ready to communicate.
“Uh, no.” His ears droop a bit, and his grin falls, “But it is related to the argument. So, er, may I come in? I don’t want to talk about it where everyone can hear.”
His eye twitches. Just quickly enough that you wonder if it was your imagination, if your declining mental state was playing more tricks on you.
“C’mon doll, when you say it like that, you make it seem like you’re gonna break up with me,” He coos, pinching at your cheek, “There’s no one around to hear you.”
You tilt your head, perplexed.
It’s not weird of Jax, he’s like this all the time. But the words make you realize you’ve never actually been inside his room.
His friends are always in there with him, but he insists on only spending time in your chambers.
You never minded, never pushed, but suddenly it makes you suspicious he’s hiding something.
But you don’t realize your lack of an answer, the gap of silence you’re letting settle while you linger in your own mind, is beginning to cause Jax to panic.
Are you actually calling things off?
The argument wasn’t that bad, right?
Sure, you never came back to grovel at his feet for forgiveness, but he figured the phase would pass and you’d be back in his arms in no time.
And he can’t let you in here, that would be embarrassing. There’s Polaroid pictures of the two of you plastered on his wall, littered among the many he takes with his friends.
His room has small potted plants, not for his own enjoyment, but because they remind him of you— of how you always care for yours, finding joy in the mundane activity.
Every object in his room reflect his love for you.
He murmurs your name like a mantra, worships the grounds you walk upon, loves you so deeply that dissociation doesn’t work on his affections.
He just, doesn’t show it.
He brushes you off in public, but replays every moment, every smile, every laugh, when he’s alone.
And… you’re going to call it off?
So, before you can even threaten to take your heart in his hands, before you can even begin to shatter it into pieces, he laughs.
It’s cruel— vindictive, filled with bitterness stirring in his gut at the thought of you leaving him.
And you… you’re just really confused.
“Good, just perfect timing,” The cackle splits the air, causing you to take a step back, concerned as he meets your gaze, “Because, you know what, I was actually going to break up with you.”
“Yeah, I was. You know, it’s just so exhausting dealing with you. I never wanted anything serious, just an escape, but you keep bringing me down with all these ‘feelings’ of yours,” He scoffs, glaring at you so viciously you want to curl up in a ball and just escape all of this, “Argument after argument… I didn’t sign up for that.”
Your arms fall limp at your side, your mind racing back to every moment you’ve ever had together, every single second of this relationship that you cherished.
There’s no way it meant so little to him. No way he saw this as nothing more than a way to pass time.
No, no, no. You refuse to stand for that, to believe such blatant lies… no.
You… you can’t accept that your love meant so little to him.
“You… Jax, honey, you’re joking… right?” You smile, hoping to mask the pain, praying that this is all just a cruel prank.
The universe is not that kind.
“Don’t call me that,” He spits out, grimacing as you refer to him by that loving term of endearment, “I already said we were done. No point in fixing something that’s already broke. The fun’s gone, the entertainment, yada yada. So bye.”
He smiles, grin and pupils matching in their wide as you reel backwards.
“Oh f@!/#k you!” You grab the nearest object you to, a vase perched prettily atop a pedestal, and chuck it right at him, causing him to retreat into his room, “You… you! Ugh, you…”
Everything blurs, the world around you beginning to glitch in and out, colors distorting from bright to bland, the landscape shifting with every blink of your eye.
Your chest heaves, tears pricking your eyes, and his face on that door taunts you; his smug grin urges you to do it, to give in.
He doesn’t need you anyway.
Your hands fall before your own gaze, their normal colors beginning to fade away, blocks of black itching to consume every inch of the supple flesh you’ve offered it.
And, just as you’re about to let it, a hand falls upon your shoulder.
“Hey,” Ragatha’s soft voice greets your ears, “I heard.. er, some of that. I’m sorry, do you want to talk about it?”
“Just leave me alone,” You huff, glaring at her with an unfamiliar ferocity, “You’re making everything worse!”
You don’t see her expression fall, the way she clutches her wrist with a trembling lip.
You just retreat to your room, pushing the closest against it to keep it secure, since your lock had decided to break a few weeks ago.
You and your thoughts, alone together.
No one sees you for the next three days.
You don’t show up for the adventures, you don’t venture out to look upon the greenery, and you never once exit your quarters.
There were a few attempts to coax you out, as the barricade that was your closet prevented any of them from entering, and they were beginning to worry.
Jax did too, really. But he couldn’t show that, he had just broken up with you after all.
He can’t beg to see you, for you join them again, because that would be admitting he cares.
Admitting he cares after he had just ruined your relationship.
He was so sure you would break up with him, so sure you would abandon him, that he didn’t even let your lips part.
And based on the dirty looks Ragatha was giving him, he was starting to think he might’ve assumed wrong.
But he can’t just say that, oh no.
He’s sure you’ll come back, begging for him to take you back! Yeah. You throwing a vase at him was just a gut reaction, that’s all.
Any day now you’ll walk out of that door and plead to start this relationship again.
So he worries in silence, by brushing his fingers against the photos of you still stuck to his wall, and listening when Ragatha speaks with you through the small crack your closest allows your door to make.
The first day? You speak a few times, answering some of her questions and statements half heartedly.
He’s brought up at one point, and the way you go silent brings an uncomfortable churning into his gut.
The second day? You answer once. It’s enough to confirm you’re alive, but it clearly worries Ragatha…
The third day? That’s when it all goes to shit.
He’s not even in the hall, still sulking in his room, when he heard Ragatha let out a shriek.
It’s not her typical one, not like when he places centipedes in the corners of her room— no, this is a genuine, horrified scream.
There’s sadness, an ache laced within it. This cry comes from far beyond a fear, it comes from a place of love.
And Jax immediately knows what that means.
Something happened with you.
The conversation with Jax, well, more like Jax’s one sided yelling, keeps replaying through your head.
The image you’d crafted of him, the fake web you’d spun to comfort yourself, had been shattered.
Ragatha still came by, spoke with you for every second she wasn’t on an adventure, so long as she was awake.
Not after the way you brushed her off, shrugged away her kindness.
She deserves someone better, a companion who will appreciate her every effort. Not someone like you.
You… you don’t deserve to be here, among the many strong-willed and kind.
You’re just some florist who got pushed into this digital world, some overly prideful, painfully average, person who tripped into a second chance.
A second chance within a fake world
One you cherished, until it all got torn to shreds right before your eyes.
This world… this life… which is beginning to glitch, your surroundings flickering as you sink into your bed.
Eyes stare down at you, vibrant, full of life, and trained upon the inky coating that’s embracing your arms.
The blocky black glitching trails up to your shoulders, falling down to the tips of your toes, and passing over your face, luring you into a deep slumber.
A hand reaches out, catches you, and suddenly your face to face with Queenie.
She smiles, wrapping you in a warm embrace that means more than any words.
And there, beneath all the glitches, the beady bright eyes, you’re finally at peace.
Jax doesn’t believe it at first.
You… you can’t be… abstracted.
He’d rushed out when he heard Ragatha’s shriek, so early in the morning, like many others who had poked their head out to see what the commotion was about.
There, as he shoved her away, looking through the small crack in your door, he saw it.
You, but, not you. It was a monster that kept glitching, bright eyes training upon him the moment they noticed the new silhouette, body bashing into any surface that stood in your way.
Every movement was brash, rushed, pained, so unlike you. You were graceful and calculated.
But, the frantic movement has caused the closet to be thrown around, moved from its initial position, and letting Jax throw the door open to enter.
He slams it behind him before Ragatha can pull him away, back to safety.
He couldn’t care less about that right now, not when you’re like… this.
“Doll…?” He heaves as he takes in your entire form, pupils shrinking.
Your thrashing stops, colorful eyes never once having left his form, but the sound of his voice stirring something within your beastly form.
“You…” He can feel himself spiraling, each breath coming in quicker than the last, “F@/!$k! Why did you say something?”
His words cause you to hiss, stirring something within this version of you, bitter feelings having transferred into this new body of yours.
Yeah, that’s right. You did try to.
“I… ugh,” He runs a hand along his face, trying to keep it from contorting, from letting his pain be visible, “You did try, yeah.”
The words calm this glitchy blob which is apparently you, a fact he can only be sure of when he takes note of how none of the flowers are in ruin… but all his gifts, as lazy as they were, are completely demolished.
The photos of the two of you, one right before his feet, have been slashed right where he is— every single has his face rightfully destroyed.
He knows why you’re like this. Why you gave in. Even if he doesn’t want to accept.
He loves you more than life itself… and he did this?
He doesn’t want to believe it.
But, the evidence is all before him.
It’s screaming in his face, aching in his chest.
“Ah, sweetheart, doll,” He starts off more sincere, tone gentler, as he decides to bite the bullet— maybe you can’t hear him in there, but he needs to try, “I’m… ah, er- f@!$/k baby I didn’t- really Caine? Censors at a time like this?!”
He yells out, despite the ai not being present within the room, frustration and guilt beginning to boil over, before he sighs.
You’re his focus right now, not some stupid rule that prevents cursing even in emotional crises.
“I’m so sorry, fuuuu.. mm, I mean, ugh you mean everything to me. More than that even. I really really do love you,” he takes a breath, hand reaching out to embrace you, but halting— too afraid to touch masterpiece he ruined, “I’m not nearly as good at these things as you are, huh? But, you… even as a glitched out blob of monstrosity, you’re the most beautiful girl I know. I didn’t say it enough, I didn’t say any of this enough, but I swear it’s all true. I love you. More than I was ready to handle, so much that I was scared of getting hurt first… and that, my selfishness, led to this. God doll, I’m so sorry.”
Tears fall down his face, streaming as he finally bears his heart to you, several moments too late for it to truly matter.
This… ugh, he was so stupid.
He cries out and punches the ground, baring his teeth as his chest rises and falls.
And yet, still, even as an abstraction, you prove how kind, too kind, you are to him.
A tulip, white and one of your favorite, clutched between your teeth, which you settle in the ground before him.
You were too good for him, too perfect, but you still chose him. Despite it all.
He loved you so deeply it hurt, was ready to sacrifice anything to make sure you smiled.
And he caused you to abstract.
