satan's kitten 🐱

By noon, your skin felt sticky beneath your clothes, your head throbbed behind your eyes, and every movement dragged exhaustion heavier through your limbs. Still, you knew that setup days were chaotic, even under normal circumstances. Nobody had time to stop moving.

So you didn’t.

The circus grounds buzzed around you beneath a dull gray sky. Half-built tents stretched upward against the wind while performers hauled props and equipment across gravel, slick from last night’s rain. Somewhere near the main ring, feedback screeched from a microphone before Caine’s voice boomed loudly across the lot.

“NO, NO, NO! The lighting rig goes STAGE left, not audience left! We’ve discussed this already, my spectacular super troupers!”

“I’m gonna hit him with my car,” Zooble muttered while dragging cables across the mud nearby.

“You don’t even have a car,” Pomni pointed out, struggling to carry an armful of costume pieces nearly bigger than she was.

“That’s not the point.”

A few yards away, Ragatha balanced on top of one of the equipment crates while trying to hang fabric against a costume rack. Gangle hovered nearby, holding an entire mouthful of sewing pins while Kaufmo unsuccessfully attempted to untangle a string of lights from around his own arm.

Normal circus chaos.

You shifted the crate balanced against your hip and kept walking.

Unfortunately, Jax treated visible weakness like a personal invitation to be annoying.

“You look terrible.”

You glanced up just in time to see him leaning against one of the equipment trailers nearby, arms folded across his chest.

“Thank you,” you replied flatly.

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

He pushed himself away from the trailer and wandered closer, boots crunching softly against gravel. His expression sat somewhere between amusement and suspicion now, eyes narrowing as they tracked your face.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“It’s called working. You should try it sometime,” you shot back.

“Mm. Counterpoint: no.”

You rolled your eyes and adjusted your grip on the crate before continuing toward the loading ramp. The second you lifted it higher against your chest, your arms nearly gave out beneath the weight.

Jax caught the wobble immediately, one hand steadying the crate before it slipped. “Oof,” he started. “That was embarrassing.”

“You’re incredibly compassionate,” you mumbled beneath your breath.

He shrugged his shoulders in response. “I know.”

The metal ramp rattled beneath your boots as you climbed into the trailer. Inside smelled faintly of canvas and old paint. Equipment cases lined the narrow walls while costume racks swayed gently whenever somebody moved outside.

Your head hurt, badly now.

You set the crate down harder than intended and your body fired back, nausea surging hard enough to make you gag.

Okay. That wasn’t great.

You braced a hand against the nearest road case while dizziness swam through your vision.

Footsteps sounded outside a moment later.

“You gonna stand there lookin’ haunted all day or what?”

Jax. Again.

You squeezed your eyes shut briefly before stepping back toward the trailer entrance. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” He watched you carefully from below the ramp now. “You look like you’re about thirty seconds away from dying in a medically interesting way.”

“I hate the way you talk.”

“Yeah, well.” His gaze narrowed. “You look worse than you did earlier.”

You opened your mouth to argue. Nothing came out.

That felt concerning.

You tried to speak again, and the world tilted sharply sideways instead.

The edge of the trailer doorway lurched in your peripheral vision as dizziness slammed through you hard enough to make your knees buckle.

“Oh, you have gotta be kidding me—”

The ramp rushed toward you.

Arms caught you before you hit it.

One hand braced hard against your back while the other locked around your wrist tightly enough to keep you upright. Somewhere above you, Jax swore as the crate beside the doorway crashed loudly onto the trailer floor.

“Hey. Hey— don’t do that.”

Your cheek pressed weakly against the front of his jacket while black spots crowded the edges of your vision. Jax removed his grip from your wrist, shifting his palm to rest against your forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he muttered, eyes widening.

You tried to answer him. You weren’t entirely sure actual words came out.

Voices blurred somewhere nearby beneath the rushing static in your ears.

“What happened?”

Pomni this time.

“I dunno, they just—” Jax stopped abruptly when your knees nearly gave out again. “Whoa, okay. Nope.”

“Oh my god,” Ragatha’s voice cut through sharply somewhere nearby. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine,” Jax answered.

Ragatha stared at him. “You literally don’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, they’re still conscious, so we’re off to a great start.”

“We should probably get Caine,” Gangle said nervously.

“No,” you mumbled weakly before anybody else could answer.

Unfortunately, that only made the dizziness worse.

Your arm wrapped weakly around his shoulders, heat climbing sharply in your throat. His grip tightened against your back to brace you.

“Alright, no. Absolutely not.” His voice sharpened suddenly. “Hey, look at me for a second.”

You tried.

His face blurred frustratingly in and out of focus.

“You with me?”

“Mm.”

“Wow. Inspiring response.”

Despite the sarcasm, his hand stayed planted against the curve of your back.

Nearby, Ragatha was already climbing down from the equipment crate, concern written all over her face. “We should get them somewhere air-conditioned.”

“They probably need medicine,” Pomni added quietly.

“They need to stop trying to die during setup,” Zooble muttered.

Pomni winced. “...That too.”

You barely registered the conversation anymore.

Everything felt heavy.

Your head dropped weakly against Jax’s shoulder as exhaustion dragged hard at the edges of your consciousness. Through your haze, you felt him hesitate before suddenly shifting his grip underneath you.

Then the ground disappeared entirely, and the noise surrounding you dipped.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Zooble muttered nearby. “You’re actually helping…wow.”

“I’m not helping.”

“You’re carrying them.”

“And?”

“That’s, like, deeply concerning.”

“Cool observation. Shut up.”

The motion jostled unpleasantly through your fever-fogged thoughts as Jax lifted you fully against his chest. One arm hooked beneath your knees while the other stayed firm around your back, steady enough that you barely felt the uneven gravel beneath his boots.

“Jax,” Ragatha called after him, “where are you taking them?”

“My trailer.”

Ragatha frowned. “Why yours?”

“Because theirs isn’t unpacked yet.”

Zooble’s eyebrows lifted. “You know which trailer is theirs?”

“Oh my god, can everybody stop talking to me?” Jax let out a frustrated huff and picked up his pace, leaving the noise of the group behind you both. “You better not throw up on me,” his voice was tense, quieter now. “I mean it.”

You thought you felt his grip tighten against you.

Then, everything disappeared into darkness.

Consciousness returned slowly amidst a pounding headache and the uncomfortable realization that literally everything hurt.

Heavy heat pressed beneath your skin, suffocating and miserable, like somebody had wrapped your entire body in damp blankets and left you too close to a fire. Your throat ached. Every joint in your body felt wrong somehow, sore in that deep, miserable way only fevers manage to accomplish.

You shifted slightly and immediately regretted it. Something in your stomach rocked violently enough to make you groan under your breath.

“Cool, you’re alive.”

Jax’s voice drifted from somewhere nearby.

You cracked your eyes open reluctantly.

Dim yellow lamplight spilled across the cramped interior of a trailer you didn’t recognize. The ceiling curved low overhead, old string lights casting faint shadows across cluttered countertops. Uneven stacks of magazines, playing cards, empty soda cans, and half-unpacked costume pieces were scattered across nearly every available surface.

Jax’s trailer.

That realization took a second to settle through the fever’s haze.

You were sprawled across what was very obviously his bed, still wearing yesterday’s clothes beneath a blanket that smelled faintly like cigarette smoke and laundry detergent. One of your shoes had apparently vanished somewhere along the way.

Jax sat near the tiny kitchenette at the opposite end of the trailer, leaning back in his chair with one boot propped against a cabinet door. A cup of instant noodles steamed faintly in his hands.

“You passed out,” he informed you, in between a mouthful of noodles.

“Mm,” you managed to mumble weakly.

“Super concerning response, by the way.”

You squinted at him. “Why’m I here?”

“Your trailer’s still half unpacked.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Mine was closer.”

Only then did you notice a damp washcloth abandoned beside the pillow, along with two unopened bottles of gatorade sitting crookedly on the nightstand.

Jax tracked your gaze.

“Don’t make that face,” he muttered.

“What face?”

“That weird one.”

“…you got me sports drinks?”

“Ragatha told me to.”

There was probably something suspicious about how quickly he’d answered that.

Your head hurt too badly to investigate any further.

Rain tapped softly against the trailer roof overhead. Beneath it, you could hear the muffled sounds of the circus still settling outside: distant voices, equipment clattering somewhere across the lot, generators humming steadily through the evening.

Everything inside the trailer felt strangely cramped compared to the noise outside. Smaller. Warmer.

“You’re lookin’ at my stuff weird,” Jax called out, brows furrowing. Your gaze had drifted to the collection of knives scattered across the tiny kitchen table.

“…you have concerning hobbies.”

“They’re decorative.”

“One of those is literally a machete.”

“It’s decorative and practical.”

You let your head fall back against a lumpy pillow with a tired groan.

That tiny movement alone seemed to sharpen something in his expression.

“You gonna throw up?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“...yes.”

“…That sounded fake.”

Before you could answer, another wave of dizziness crashed through, hard enough to make your vision warp painfully. You lifted a hand to cover your eyes.

A second later, the mattress shifted beside you.

“Whoa, okay.” Jax’s voice sounded closer now. Less teasing. “Easy.”

Cool fingers pressed awkwardly against the side of your neck for half a second before quickly pulling away again, like he’d only realized afterward what he was doing.

“You’re seriously burning up.”

“I noticed,” you muttered.

“Yeah, well, I noticed more.”

You cracked one eye open just enough to glare weakly at him.

He looked… strange.

Not soft, exactly. Jax didn’t really do soft.

But the constant amusement usually sitting somewhere behind his expression had dimmed into something darker now, restless energy flickering through every small movement. One of his knees bounced rapidly against the side of the bed frame while he watched you.

“You take anything yet?” he asked.

“For what?”

“The fever, genius.”

“Oh.” You swallowed painfully. “...uhm, when was I supposed to do that?”

Jax stared at you with a look of genuine horror.

“…How are you alive?”

You might’ve laughed a little if your head didn’t feel like it was splitting open. Instead, you attempted a shrug. Bad idea.

Nausea punished the movement instantly and your stomach lurched hard enough to steal the air from your lungs.

“Okay, nope.” Jax leaned closer. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m literally laying down.”

“Yeah, and somehow you still look like you’re losing a fight with gravity.”

Your throat felt painfully dry suddenly. Even breathing left you feeling overheated and exhausted in a way that made your limbs feel too heavy beneath the blankets.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath carefully through the dizziness, while rain tapped against the trailer roof overhead. The trailer felt almost strangely still now, the quiet outside broken only by distant generators humming somewhere across the lot.

Jax sighed into the silence, “You’ve been out since yesterday afternoon, by the way.”

That snapped your attention back toward him.

“What?”

“Mmhm.” Jax leaned back slightly in his chair. “It’s, like, two in the morning.”

For a second, genuine disorientation cut through the fever haze. Yesterday afternoon?

No wonder your body felt completely wrecked.

“…sorry.”

Jax’s expression shriveled.

“Ugh. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That weird guilty thing.” He dragged a hand through his hair roughly before looking away. “You scared the hell outta Ragatha.”

He glanced toward the rain-dark window.

“…and everybody else too, I guess.”

You looked at him quietly for a moment. “You stayed,” your voice came out raspy, barely a whisper.

Something unreadable flickered across Jax’s face before he covered it quickly with his usual smirk.

“Yeah, well. You looked all pale and gross.”

“That’s your excuse?”

“It’s a fantastic excuse.”

You would’ve smiled if your face didn’t feel half melted off from the fever.

A second later, Jax grabbed one of the unopened sports drinks from the nightstand and shoved it toward you.

“Drink something.”

You stared weakly at it. “I think lifting that might actually kill me.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“You carried me here.”

“…That doesn’t prove anything.”

The trailer door suddenly swung open hard enough to make both of you flinch.

Ragatha stepped inside carrying a plastic grocery bag against her chest, rainwater still clinging to the sleeves of her cardigan.

“Oh good, you’re awake!”

Jax leaned back so fast it almost gave you whiplash, all of that strange nervous energy snapping back behind his usual irritation.

“They were awake already,” he said defensively.

“Okay?” Ragatha blinked at him. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.”

“You sounded accusatory.” Jax glanced toward the clock before looking back at Ragatha. “Aren’t you usually asleep by like… ten?”

Ragatha gave him a look. “You texted me six times.”

“...okay, that feels exaggerated.”

“It wasn’t.”

Jax looked genuinely offended. Ragatha ignored him completely and crossed toward the bed instead, pressing the back of her hand gently against your forehead. Her expression shifted into worry.

“Oh, honey…”

“See?” Jax pointed vaguely from somewhere beside you. “That’s what I said.”

“You definitely didn’t say ‘oh, honey,’ Jax,” Ragatha replied absently while digging through the grocery bag. “You told me they looked medically disturbing.”

“Which was accurate.”

Ragatha pulled out a bottle of medicine and handed it toward you along with a water bottle.

“Did you eat anything recently?”

You stared blankly at her.

“…does half a gas station pretzel count?”

Both Ragatha and Jax looked horrified by that answer for completely different reasons.

Jax rubbed a hand down his face. “You are, like, alarmingly bad at being a person.”

“Well,” Ragatha sighed, “that explains a whole lot, actually.”

You groaned weakly into the pillow. “You guys are being mean to me in my time of need.”

“Your time of need started like twelve hours ago,” Jax shot back.

“Jax,” Ragatha warned.

“What? I’m right.”

Despite the bickering, exhaustion was already dragging heavily at the edges of your consciousness again. The medicine left your body feeling heavy beneath the blankets while the steady sound of rain softened everything else into background noise.

Ragatha noticed your eyes slipping shut first. Her voice lowered. “Hey, do you want me to stay with them for a while?”

You expected Jax to agree.

“They’re fine.”

Ragatha blinked. “That wasn’t the question.”

Jax avoided looking directly at either of you. “I got it under control.”

A strange little silence settled over the trailer.

Then Ragatha’s expression softened into something suspiciously knowing.

“...Oh,” she said quietly.

Jax pointed toward the trailer door. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were gonna.”

A smile tugged faintly at the corner of Ragatha’s mouth as she gathered the empty grocery bag again. “Alright. I’ll check in tomorrow morning.”

“Cool,” Jax muttered. “Don’t.”

Rain drifted softly against the trailer roof after she left.

You barely registered the mattress shifting slightly beside you before exhaustion finally dragged you under again. The last thing you felt before sleep overtook you completely was cool fingers pressing gently against your forehead.

“…still ridiculous,” Jax muttered under his breath.

Everything faded softly back into darkness.

Sleep came and went in miserable fragments afterward.

Every time consciousness surfaced again, it felt worse.

The fever had settled deeper somehow, dragging heavy heat through your body until even breathing felt exhausting. Your skin burned beneath the blankets while violent chills rattled through you, jarring enough to make your teeth ache. At some point during the night, you’d kicked half the blankets off the bed. Sometime later, Jax must’ve pulled them back over you again.

Jax had turned most of the trailer lights off, leaving only the faint yellow glow above the kitchen counter to cut through the darkness. Rain still pattered lightly against the roof.

You became vaguely aware of movement nearby before you fully opened your eyes. Cabinets opening and closing. Footsteps pacing unevenly across the narrow trailer floor.

Jax.

Your vision stayed blurry for a few seconds after you blinked awake. The ceiling lights smeared strangely at the edges while your stomach churned unpleasantly. You groaned into your pillow.

The movement across the trailer stopped cold.

“Oh, cool,” Jax muttered. “You’re up again.”

Again.

That word lodged uncomfortably somewhere through your haze.

You shifted weakly beneath the blankets. Even subtle movement made the room tilt. You grunted.

“Whoa, okay— nope.” Footsteps crossed the trailer quickly before the mattress dipped beside you again. “Easy, easy, take it easy.”

Your eyes squeezed shut automatically.

Everything hurt.

The mattress shifted under his weight as Jax leaned closer, one hand pressing against your shoulder before you rolled too far sideways off the edge of the bed.

“You are genuinely awful at being sick,” he informed you, his voice strained.

“Mm.”

“That wasn’t a real response.”

You tried opening your eyes again.

Jax looked worse than before.

His hair stuck out messily in every direction now, dark circles settled heavily beneath his eyes, and the sleeves of his shirt had been shoved unevenly up to his elbows like he’d been too distracted to fix them properly. Several empty sports drink bottles sat abandoned near the sink beside what looked like a half-melted bag of ice.

Jax pressed the back of his hand quickly against your forehead.

The expression on his face darkened. Like something inside of him had dropped out beneath his feet.

“Oh, you have gotta be kidding me.”

You frowned weakly. “What?”

“You’re hotter.”

“…I’m flattered,” you struggled to get the words out.

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

The room tilted again.

You swallowed hard against another wave of nausea as Jax stood abruptly from the edge of the bed, pacing two restless steps toward the door before stopping short and turning back.

“Okay, nope. I hate this.” He dragged both hands through his hair roughly. “Ragatha said if your fever got any worse we were supposed to go to the emergency room.”

You frowned weakly through the fever haze. “...You talked to Ragatha?”

Jax stopped pacing.

For a second, the trailer went completely quiet except for the rain hammering against the roof.

“…What?”

Your head was throbbing. “When?”

Something in Jax’s face went oddly still.

“Ragatha was here,” he said slowly. “A couple hours ago.”

Silence.

“…You seriously don’t remember that?”

“...sorry,” you murmured.

“Oh my god, stop apologizing.” He pointed vaguely toward you, unpausing his pacing. “That thing where you keep saying sorry like you’re inconveniencing me? Hate it. Knock it off.”

You might’ve answered if your thoughts didn’t feel so far away.

The trailer blurred again, and Jax’s pacing came to a halt.

“…Hey.”

You blinked slowly toward him.

“Look at me for a second.”

You tried.

His face wouldn’t fully focus.

That seemed to scare him.

“No,” his voice sharpened suddenly. “Don’t do that.”

Jax leaned down again, fingers pressing quickly against the side of your neck like he was checking for something you couldn’t understand through the fog of the fever.

“Hey,” he repeated, dire now. “C’mon.”

You tried answering him.

Your tongue felt heavy somehow.

“...Jax,” you mumbled weakly instead.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Something cold pressed briefly against your forehead before disappearing again. A wet washcloth, maybe. Your thoughts kept slipping sideways before you could grasp onto them properly.

The trailer suddenly felt scorching. You closed your eyes again for what felt like half a second.

When you opened them next, Jax was shoving his arms hurriedly through a hoodie near the trailer door. Keys jingled loudly somewhere nearby. The rain was hammering harder outside now.

“What—” your voice cracked painfully, “what’re you doing?”

“We’re going to the hospital.”

The words cut clean through your daze, enough to make your jaw clench.

“...no, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, see, the problem is you stopped being believable like six hours ago.”

You tried pushing yourself upright.

That turned out to be a horrible mistake.

The room lurched violently sideways before your body could fully follow the movement, dizziness crashing through you hard enough that you barely registered yourself slipping sideways off the mattress.

Jax caught you before you hit the floor.

“Holy shit.”

One arm locked hard around your waist while the other caught your shoulders against his chest. Your head spun weakly against the front of his hoodie while rain battered the trailer roof overhead loud enough to make everything else disappear.

For one awful second, Jax didn’t move at all.

“...you’re scaring me.”

You’d never heard genuine fear in his voice before. Not until now.

The words came quieter after that, almost whispered underneath his breath as he adjusted his grip beneath you.

“I got you.”

The sudden lift sent dizziness crashing through you again as he scooped you fully against his chest, one arm beneath your knees while the other held you tightly enough that you barely felt the movement beneath him.

Your head dropped weakly against his shoulder.

Rain and cold air hit your skin for barely a second before Jax pulled you closer beneath the shelter of his jacket.

“Stay awake,” he muttered, voice tighter than you’d ever heard it before.

Then the trailer door slammed shut, and you were off into the storm.

You recognized the ceiling before you fully opened your eyes.

The dim yellow glow above the kitchenette blurred softly through your vision while the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and laundry detergent settled around you again. For one disoriented second, panic twisted sharply through your chest before memory returned in fractured pieces:

Rain. Jax’s voice. Cold air against your scalding skin. Hospital lights smeared white and blurry through a feverish haze.

Your throat burned suddenly as you swallowed.

Speaking hurt too much to even attempt.

A weak sound escaped you anyway, more breath than actual noise.

Movement stirred somewhere nearby almost at once.

“Well,” Jax’s voice cut through the quiet, rougher than usual, “that’s slightly less terrifying.”

He sat slouched sideways in one of the chairs near the coffee table, an arm folded beneath his head while the other hung limp against his lap. Judging by the awkward angle of his neck and the blanket half-draped on his shoulder, he definitely hadn’t meant to fall asleep there.

A half-empty cold brew sat abandoned beside him alongside pharmacy bags, crumpled receipts, and a bottle of prescription medicine.

Your gaze lingered there a second too long.

“Don’t start.” Jax warned.

You frowned weakly.

“Whatever stupid emotional thing you’re about to do,” he muttered while dragging a tired hand down his face, “don’t.”

Despite the sarcasm, relief still lingered visibly around the edges of his expression now that you were awake.

Your throat burned again as you swallowed carefully, the lingering soreness sharp enough to make you wince.

“Yeah,” Jax muttered, already up and reaching for the water bottle beside the bed before you could ask for it. “Doctor said your throat’s pretty messed up.”

You opened your mouth, trying to force words to form anyway.

Nothing came out.

Only another painful rasp clawing uselessly at your throat.

Jax shook his head.

“Yeah. Don’t do that either.”

Frustration burned hot behind your ribs as you sank back against the pillows.

After everything from last night, the silence felt cruel now.

For once, Jax didn’t immediately fill it with sarcasm.

Instead, he reached toward the nightstand beside you before holding out a small notebook and pen.

You stared at it.

“…What?” he asked defensively. “The nurse gave it to me.”

You turned the notebook over slowly in your hands.

The first few pages were already filled.

Messy handwriting crowded unevenly across the paper:

water. more ice chips? yes/no blink system sucks btw stop ripping the pulse monitor off ow

You raised a brow at him.

Jax immediately looked offended. “Before you say anything, hospital-you was super annoying.”

A weak laugh escaped you soundlessly through your nose.

“That’s the other thing,” he pointed accusingly. “You keep doing that silent laughing thing and it’s weird.”

You scribbled slowly across the notebook again.

sorry

Jax groaned. “See? There it is again.”

His chair scraped softly across the trailer floor as he dragged it closer to the bed before dropping back into it heavily.

Outside, rain still drifted softly against the roof, quieter now than the storm from the night before. Daylight filtered dimly through the trailer windows, washing everything pale gray.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

Then Jax leaned forward slightly, squinting toward you.

“…You remember any of the hospital?”

You paused to think for a moment, then wrote your response:

not really

Something unreadable crossed his expression again.

“...Cool. Good,” he muttered eventually.

Your gaze drifted downward absently while adjusting the blankets.

Purple bruising enveloped the inside of your arm beneath the hospital wristband still looped loosely around your wrist.

You frowned.

Jax followed your gaze.

“…Don’t.”

You looked back toward him, then slowly lifted the notebook again.

what happened?

Jax groaned quietly into one hand.

“Seriously?”

You stared at him expectantly.

For a long moment, he looked like he might refuse outright.

He sighed, “...Are you sure you really wanna know?”

Something about the question unsettled you.

Still, you nodded.

Jax leaned back heavily in the chair, rubbing tiredly at one eye.

“You kept ripping the IV outta your arm.”

Your eyes widened slightly.

“Four times,” he added flatly.

Mortification hit instantly.

“Oh, save the shock, it gets worse.” Despite the sarcasm, exhaustion dulled the usual sharpness in his voice now. “You kept trying to get up and leave the room.”

Broken fragments flickered vaguely through your memory: fluorescent lights, cold hands adjusting something against your face, Jax arguing with somebody somewhere nearby.

“You kept asking me to take you home,” he continued more quietly. “Said you hated it there.”

Your fingers stilled slightly against the notebook page.

Jax looked away afterward, attention settling hard on the coffee cup in his hands.

“And then,” he muttered, “you started begging me to sneak you back to the trailer so you could sleep.”

He paused.

“You were pretty convinced we could somehow outrun the nurses.”

Despite everything, a weak, soundless laugh escaped you.

Jax pointed toward you. “See? That one was at least a little funny.”

Then his expression shifted again, subtly. The exhaustion returned around the edges.

The trailer stayed quiet except for the soft tapping rain outside.

Then, after a long moment, Jax broke the silence:

“…You didn’t really know where you were for a while.”

The words landed heavier than anything else he’d said so far.

You watched him carefully while he continued picking absentmindedly at the edge of the cup label.

“They had you on oxygen for most of the night.” His voice lowered slightly. “At one point they were talking about intubating you if your breathing got worse.”

Your stomach dropped.

Jax finally glanced back toward you then, exhaustion sitting plainly across his face now that the sarcasm had mostly worn itself out.

“You don’t remember any of that?”

Slowly, you shook your head.

Something unreadable crossed his expression again.

“…Good,” he muttered eventually.

That single word hurt worse than hearing the details themselves.

You looked down at the notebook resting in your lap for a long moment before finally writing carefully across the page:

i made you stay there all night

Jax read the sentence once before immediately looking irritated again.

“Oh my god, we are NOT doing the guilt thing again.”

Despite the complaint, his chair still scraped softly across the trailer floor as he dragged it even closer beside the bed.

You watched him quietly for a moment.

Then reached for the notebook again.

Jax’s eyes dropped to the notebook and he sighed. “I already don’t trust that look.”

Your writing came slower now, exhaustion still weighing heavily through your limbs.

stay?

Jax stared at the page.

“…Stay where?”

You looked pointedly toward the empty side of the bed.

He pursed his lips.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

You raised an eyebrow weakly.

“You are literally contagious.”

You scribbled again.

coward

Jax let out an offended noise. “Excuse you? I spent like twelve straight hours making sure you didn’t die.”

Your eyes drifted toward him expectantly. He just stared back.

Then, he groaned dramatically into one hand before shoving himself up from the chair.

“This is emotional manipulation, by the way.”

The mattress dipped beneath his weight a second later as he climbed reluctantly onto the edge of the bed, still muttering complaints under his breath while awkwardly trying not to jostle you too much.

“There. Happy?” He settled stiffly on top of the blankets beside you. “This is already the worst decision I’ve made all week.”

You stared at him for a second before slowly lifting the corner of the blanket toward him.

Jax blinked.

“…Oh, come on.”

Your expression didn’t change.

He looked genuinely conflicted for half a second before sighing heavily and sliding underneath the blankets beside you anyway.

Warmth curled around you both beneath the cramped layers of blankets and tangled sheets. Jax still felt faintly cold from the rain outside, though exhaustion radiated heavily from him now that he’d finally stopped moving long enough to notice it.

For a few quiet seconds, neither of you spoke.

Then, carefully, you shifted slightly closer. Your head settled weakly against his shoulder.

Jax went strangely still.

Not rejection. Not quite freezing either.

More like his entire body suddenly forgot how to function properly.

“…You are unbelievably clingy after near-death experiences,” he muttered finally, voice noticeably quieter now.

A silent laugh shook weakly through your chest.

Jax glanced downward at the movement before something in his expression softened despite himself.

His arm adjusted hesitantly beside you.

Then, after a brief moment of visible internal conflict, it slid carefully around your shoulders.

You relaxed against him before you could stop yourself.

Outside, rain drifted softly against the trailer roof while pale daylight filtered dimly through the curtains. The steady warmth beside you combined dangerously with the exhaustion still dragging at your body, making your eyes start slipping shut again despite yourself.

“You better not be dying again,” Jax muttered.

You lifted one hand weakly from beneath the blankets and gave him a slow thumbs up.

“That is not medically reassuring.”

Despite the complaint, his hand traced shapes into your shoulder anyway.

By the time you were finally well enough to leave the trailer for longer than ten-minute intervals, the rain had stopped entirely.

Soft spring air drifted across the circus grounds while workers finished hauling the last equipment crates between caravans. In the distance, somebody was testing stage lights, flashes of gold and white flickering across canvas tents.

Your voice had mostly returned over the past two days.

Talking still hurt if you did it too long, your throat rough and scratchy around the edges now…but at least actual words came out instead of painful silence.

Jax, unfortunately, had started making fun of your voice the second it returned.

“You sound like you swallowed sandpaper,” he informed you cheerfully from where he lounged against the side of his trailer.

You shot him a glare over the sleeve of the hoodie you’d stolen from him three days ago.

“Your concern is touching.”

“I know. I’m practically a saint.”

Despite the usual sarcasm, something lighter had settled between you both now that the hospital panic was over. The exhaustion still lingered visibly around Jax’s face if you looked too closely, but he’d finally stopped hovering every time you coughed.

Most of the time, at least.

You stepped carefully down from the trailer stairs, adjusting the oversized hoodie sleeves around your hands while the cold breeze swept through the lot again.

“Don’t wander too far,” Jax called lazily from where he still lounged against the trailer wall. “If you pass out again, I’m charging you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going for a walk, not reenacting my medical emergency.”

“That sounds exactly like somethin’ somebody about to reenact a medical emergency would say.”

You left him muttering to himself anyway.

Spring had finally settled over the circus grounds sometime while you’d been busy almost dying.

The grass felt cool beneath your bare feet as you wandered between caravans, still damp in places from old rain but warmer now beneath the afternoon’s gentle sunlight. Wind stirred softly through blooming trees near the edge of the lot, carrying the faint smell of dirt and fresh-cut grass instead of storm air.

Somewhere farther off, Kinger appeared to be speaking very seriously to a folding chair.

You found Ragatha sitting beside an open costume trunk near the wardrobe trailer, carefully sorting thread spools into neat rows.

The second she noticed you, her expression brightened.

“Oh!” She sat up straighter. “Well, look at you. Up and walkin’ around and everything.”

Ragatha’s eyes narrowed toward your face.

“…Okay, maybe still a little pale.”

“Rude.”

“Lovingly rude,” she corrected, already reaching toward the paper cup resting beside her. “Here, have some tea. Before your throat starts yelling at you again.”

You blinked.

“…You just had tea ready?”

Ragatha hesitated like the answer should’ve been obvious.

“Well… yeah?” She tucked a loose curl behind one ear. “You scared everybody pretty bad.” She lowered her voice slightly. “...Jax especially.”

She quickly brightened again, nudging the cup toward you.

“Anyway! Drink that before it gets cold.”

You settled beside the costume trunk while she returned to sorting thread, occasionally pausing to untangle stubborn knots with quiet concentration.

For a little while, the two of you sat comfortably in the soft spring warmth. Wind stirred through nearby trees, carrying the smell of damp grass while voices drifted faintly from the main tent.

Ragatha clicked her tongue softly at a tangled spool in her lap. “Honestly, I swear thread knots itself up outta spite.”

You huffed a laugh into your tea.

Silence settled again after that, easy and familiar.

Your gaze wandered absently toward the row of caravans farther down the lot.

“…Oh.”

Ragatha glanced up.

“What?”

“I haven’t even checked if my trailer’s unpacked yet.”

Her hands stopped.

“…What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean,” you shifted awkwardly, “I kinda got hospitalized before I finished?”

Ragatha paused, clearly confused. She bit her lip.

“…Oh.”

A funny little expression crossed her face.

“Sweetheart, your trailer’s been unpacked since the first night.”

You stared at her.

“…What?”

“Gangle and I finished most of it after setup,” she explained, attention drifting briefly back toward the loose seam in her lap. “Jax brought your things over after the hospital.”

She paused, before carefully adding a question of her own, “…You didn’t know?”

Slowly, you shook your head.

Ragatha went quiet for a second.

Her mouth twitched upward softly.

“Oh, hon.” Her tone was amused, but not teasing. Fond.

“He could’ve moved you back days ago,” she said gently.

The silence afterward landed differently.

Ragatha watched realization settle over your expression before quickly pretending to become very interested in reorganizing thread.

“…Don’t be too mean to him,” she said after a moment, quieter now. “He’s had a real hard time actin’ like this whole thing didn’t scare him.”

A startled laugh escaped you.

“Oh, I’m absolutely teasing him.”

“That’s fair.”

You found Jax exactly where you’d left him, still leaning lazily against the side of the trailer with all the practiced indifference of somebody who absolutely had not spent the last week quietly spiraling.

His gaze lifted when he noticed you walking back. Whatever he found on your face seemed to put him on edge immediately, shoulders shifting faintly against the trailer wall before his expression settled somewhere between suspicion and annoyance.

“…Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

You crossed your arms loosely.

“So…”

The single word earned you a visible pause.

“…So?” he asked carefully.

“How long were you planning on keeping me?”

Jax went still.“…What?”

“My trailer,” you said mildly. “Apparently it’s been unpacked all week.”

Silence stretched long enough for realization to settle over him.

Then he sighed, raising a hand to rub his temple.

“…Ragatha talks too much.”

The deadpan delivery almost made you laugh. You stepped a little closer to Jax instead.

“‘Mine was closer,’ huh?”

He groaned softly.

“You cannot use my own lines against me. That feels illegal.”

“And the soup?”

“It was medicinal.”

“The hoodie?”

“You looked cold.”

“You carrying me to the emergency room?”

“That hardly counts.”

You tilted your head.

“…While wearing bunny pajama pants?”

His entire expression shifted into something resembling betrayal.

“Oh, okay. Cool. Awesome.” He pointed vaguely toward nowhere in particular. “Apparently everybody talks too much.”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it.

Something softened around the edges of Jax’s expression at the sound before he caught himself, jaw shifting faintly as though he was annoyed by his own reaction.

“…You gotta stop doin’ that.”

“Doing what?”

“That laugh thing.”

The answer came quieter than usual, like he hadn’t entirely meant to say it out loud.

The breeze moved softly between the caravans, carrying damp earth and cut grass through the lot while distant voices drifted somewhere near the tents. Jax looked away first, one boot nudging absently at gravel while he shoved a hand into the pocket of his hoodie.

“…You can stay, by the way,” he mumbled.

Your brows lifted.

“In your trailer?”

He shrugged one shoulder too quickly.

“I mean. If you want.”

The words sounded uncomfortable coming out of him, rough around the edges in a way sarcasm usually covered too well to notice.

“You don’t gotta make a whole thing outta it,” he muttered, eyes fixed firmly on the gravel. “Just figured it’d probably be easier.”

Something warm twisted quietly through your chest.

He still looked exhausted. He’d stopped sleeping properly sometime around the emergency room, and the dark circles under his eyes still hadn’t gone away.

Jax shifted beneath the silence.

“You are makin’ this unbelievably difficult for me.”

You blinked up at him.

“What?”

“This whole ordeal. Us.” He frowned at you. “Horrible experience. Zero stars.”

The laugh that escaped you this time came warmer.

His gaze lifted automatically toward the sound. Something uncertain lingered there beneath all the usual sarcasm. He wasn’t exactly nervous, but something was different. Unguarded.

You stepped closer before you could talk yourself out of it, the sleeve of his hoodie brushing lightly against your own.

Jax straightened a little.

“…What’re you doin’?”

You weren’t fully sure. Not until your fingers curled gently into the front of his hoodie.

Not until you leaned up.

The kiss landed soft, careful. Almost uncertain.

For a second, Jax didn’t seem to move at all, and you started to pull back.

His hand caught lightly at your sleeve before you could get very far.

“…Oh.”

The word left him quieter than usual. His gaze dropped toward your mouth and stayed there a second too long.

“You…”

He stopped.

“…Okay.”

The word sounded distracted. When he realized he wasn’t getting far talking, he kissed you again, this time without hesitation.

His hand found your waist before seeming to think better of it, hovering there awkwardly for all of half a heartbeat before settling anyway when you shifted closer on instinct.

That seemed to completely ruin whatever composure he’d been trying to hold onto.

“Oh, this is real unfair,” he groaned weakly against your mouth.

The complaint lost most of its bite when he dove back in, chasing your lips.

The cool spring breeze drifted through the narrow space between trailers while one hand tightened lightly at the fabric of your sleeve, the other resting firmer at your waist now.

You gasped against his lips when he nearly backed himself into the trailer wall trying to pull you closer, to kiss you deeper.

That stopped him entirely.

He stared at you for a second, expression gone strangely helpless.

“…Yeah,” he muttered, voice rougher now. “No, I’m never recoverin’ from that.”

Then he kissed you again.

Hard enough this time to knock the breath from whatever teasing remark had nearly left your mouth.

Your fingers grasped against the front of his hoodie, balling into fists while his own hand shifted lower against your back, pulling you closer without seeming to realize he was doing it. When you made the smallest startled sound against his mouth, something in him seemed to snap.

“…Yeah, okay,” he murmured, sounding vaguely overwhelmed by the entire situation.

One hand settled more firmly at your back as he started guiding you backward toward the trailer without really pulling away.

“C’mon,” he muttered against your lips, words quieter now, rough around the edges. “Before Ragatha sees this and starts cryin’ or somethin’.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!! sorry if that last scene sounded a little wonky/rushed (as of 5/18), i wanted to crank this fic out tonight....will re-read later this week and nitpick it then as always, i would love to know your thoughts and any requests/prompts you would like to see, so don't be shy and leave a letter in my inbox!

He still complained when you stole his jacket, still sighed dramatically when you settled into his space backstage without asking, still muttered something under his breath every time you wandered off with one of his knives like you were not, apparently, somebody he trusted around sharp objects.

Which was ridiculous, considering you were currently sharpening them.

“You’re distractin’ me,” Jax complained from beside you.

“You’ve said that four times.”

You sat close enough beside him that your knee bumped lazily against his boot, one of his throwing knives balanced across your lap while you dragged its edge carefully along the whetstone. His jacket was folded around your shoulders, too long in the sleeves and smelling faintly of smoke and whatever cheap soap he used in the dressing rooms. Jax had noticed you wearing it nearly an hour ago. Naturally, he had chosen to say nothing, which meant he was either deeply annoyed or secretly pleased.

With him, the two usually looked the same.

You glanced up just long enough to catch the unimpressed look he was trying very hard to commit to, one shoulder pressed lazily against the wall behind you. Rehearsal had ended nearly an hour ago, though backstage still buzzed with the slow mess of circus life settling for the evening. The sleeve of Jax’s jacket slipped halfway over your hand every time you sharpened the knife, annoyingly oversized.

“Stop doin’ that.”

“...Doing what?”

Jax glanced over, unimpressed. “Breathin’ near me.”

You snorted, turning the blade in your lap. “You invited me over here.”

“I invited you to sit. Didn’t say you had to start fondlin’ my props.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For keeping your act from looking pathetic.”

His mouth twitched before he could stop it, and your own smile widened immediately.

“Was that almost a smile?” you asked.

Jax rolled his eyes on instinct. “You’re imaginin’ things.”

“Mm. Sure.”

You returned to the knife, grinning stubbornly. This had become routine somehow.

Before the accident, afternoons like this never existed.

Back then, your life had revolved around rehearsal schedules and chalk-covered palms, around rigging and aching shoulders and the sharp rush of adrenaline that lived somewhere between climbing too high and trusting yourself enough to let go. Abel’s circus had run on spectacle, long nights and impossible heights, and you had spent most of your time somewhere above the ground.

One show gone-wrong was all it took: one failed cue paired with a piece of equipment that should have been checked twice.

One awful, blinding second that had turned applause into shouting.

After that came weeks of healing, and if there was one thing you were unfamiliar with, it was sitting still.

Caine’s circus had never exactly felt unfamiliar, though.

Kaufmo and Ribbit had already been stubborn fixtures in your life long before you officially joined, both of them incapable of letting you disappear quietly after the accident. Kaufmo had started dragging you backstage “just to visit,” which quickly turned into dinners, rehearsals, and increasingly questionable life advice. Ribbit assigned you odd jobs with bizarre seriousness, like sharpening props or organizing equipment carried national importance.

Somewhere in the middle of that, Jax had happened.

Kaufmo still insisted he deserved credit.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” the clown had announced over lunch one afternoon.

Jax barely looked up, “...for what?”

Kaufmo gestured vaguely between the two of you.

“This.”

You frowned. “That explains absolutely nothing.”

“You two have been weird since, like, forever.”

“We’re normal,” Jax replied immediately.

Kaufmo laughed hard enough to nearly choke.

“You literally started hanging around backstage even before they joined the circus.”

“You invited me,” you pointed out.

“Not to sit in Jax’s trailer for four hours,” Kaufmo said.

Jax looked offended. “That happened, like, one time.”

You turned to glare at him. He paused.

“…Okay, maybe a couple of times…but not a lot.”

Kaufmo pointed accusingly.

“You hated everybody except each other.”

“That is not true,” Jax muttered.

“You share clothes,” Kaufmo said.

“That means nothing.”

Ribbit finally looked up from lunch.

“Wait…are you two dating?”

Silence. Jax stopped moving.

You blinked.

Kaufmo burst into laughter.

“OH MY GOD, YOU DIDN’T KNOW?”

The relationship continued quietly after that.

Or, more accurately, nothing really changed except everyone stopped pretending not to notice. You still found yourself in Jax’s space more often than not, and he still acted vaguely inconvenienced about it in the way people did when they secretly liked something far too much.

Ribbit, unfortunately, got worse.

“Domestic dispute,” she’d announce any time the two of you disagreed over something remotely stupid.

“You’re cuttin’ into my dramatic entrance.”

“Domestic dispute.”

“You are not puttin’ glitter near my knives.”

“Domestic dispute.”

“Stop callin’ it that,” Jax had snapped at her once, as he fought with you over performance timeslots from across the room.

Ribbit barely looked up from sorting paperwork.

“You sleep in each other’s trailers.”

The two of you froze. Jax opened his mouth and paused, eyebrows raised.

“…That is not relevant,” he deflected.

It had become increasingly difficult to argue with Ribbit after that.

Presently, you shifted with the ease of habit, momentarily abandoning the knife as you turned sideways and climbed halfway into Jax’s lap. One of his legs nudged automatically between yours to make space before he seemed to realize he was helping at all.

He sighed, dramatic as ever, though his hand settled at your waist with absent familiarity while you picked the blade back up.

“You’re heavy.”

“You say that every time.”

“Because it keeps bein’ true.”

You ignored him, settling more comfortably against his chest until he stopped pretending to mind.

Which was exactly when an eccentric voice cut through backstage.

“Oh, marvelous!”

Jax went still.

“No.”

You barely had time to glance up before Caine appeared between the curtains, gaze flicking once at the two of you. He froze.

“Ah. Have I interrupted a…private rehearsal?”

A grin spread across his face.

“Oh dear,” he gasped, glancing between the two of you with theatrical concern. “Should I return at a less scandalous hour?”

“Keep walkin’,” Jax muttered.

You laughed despite yourself, shifting just enough to glance up at Caine properly. Jax’s hand lingered briefly at your side before settling again, the motion absent-minded enough to feel practiced.

“What do you want?” you asked.

Caine clasped both hands together.

“My buzzing bumblebee, I come bearing inspiration.”

Jax sighed immediately.

“That somehow sounds worse.”

“You wound me.” Caine pressed one hand dramatically to his chest. “I simply had the most marvelous realization.”

Your ringmaster's attention returned to you, bright and intent in the way it always became when he had already decided something would work before anybody else had been consulted.

“You,” he declared, “belong in the air.”

Jax went very still beneath you.

Caine continued before either of you could interrupt.

“Not permanently, heavens no, we are attempting spectacle, not tragedy.” He waved one hand vaguely. “A trapeze act! I want graceful movement and impossible height, the audience in tears. Or at least emotionally compromised.”

“No,” Jax said flatly.

“You do not even know the details.”

“Don’t need ’em.”

Your gaze dropped for a moment, catching uselessly on nothing.

Trapeze. God.

Immediately, stupidly, your mind betrayed you.

Your shoulders ached with memory before you could stop them, something phantom and familiar settling beneath your skin. You could almost feel chalk against your palms again, the slight give of rope beneath your grip and that familiar split second before release when nerves disappeared the moment your feet left the platform.

You missed it.

Worse, the realization arrived embarrassingly fast.

Somewhere overhead, rigging disappeared into shadow, and before you could stop yourself your attention drifted upward.

Jax shifted beneath you, just barely. Enough that the movement tugged at your attention again.

His hand had gone still where it rested at your waist, expression unreadable in the specific way it always became when something was bothering him more than he planned on admitting.

“No,” he repeated, quieter this time.

You turned just enough to look at him.

He was already watching you.

“You don’t gotta do that,” he said.

Caine sighed, deeply wounded.

“Now, now, now, my boy—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Caine ignored him, “—must we extinguish every spark of theatrical possibility before it has the chance to bloom?” He gestured vaguely upward toward the rafters, expression brightening again. “Imagine it! The  audience will be so emotionally overwhelmed, they’ll forget entirely how embarrassing public crying can be.”

“You are bein’ aggressively unhelpful,” Jax muttered.

“An unfortunate misunderstanding,” Caine replied cheerfully. “I prefer the term inspirational, friendo.”

Your fingers turned the knife absently beneath the light while your thoughts wandered somewhere frustratingly far away.

Months of staying close to the stage instead of on it had taught you how to keep busy. Helping Ragatha untangle costumes, sitting through rehearsals, finding excuses to stay near the noise of performance because standing still had never suited you and neither had being careful.

You had done useful things, safe things.

But none of it could compare to flying.

Jax exhaled quietly through his nose.

“You got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one right before you decide somethin’ stupid.”

By performance night, Jax had somehow found at least twelve separate reasons to be backstage.

None of them, according to him, had anything to do with you.

One of the support knots looked questionable, and after fixing it he had noticed equipment sitting where it should not have been. Caine had also spent most of the afternoon insisting the show required “proper emotional atmosphere,” which somehow involved moving lights around and speaking in increasingly dramatic metaphors.

Mostly, though, the waiting had started getting under his skin.

You had disappeared nearly an hour ago for costume and makeup, leaving him with entirely too much time to stand near the wings pretending he had somewhere better to be.

Backstage felt different before a performance. Quieter in strange places, louder in others. People moved quickly without speaking much, brushing past half-open costume trunks while muffled orchestra music drifted from beyond the stage.

Jax lingered near the curtains with his arms crossed, expression carefully unimpressed.

“You know,” Zooble said from somewhere beside him, adjusting a harness strap without bothering to glance over, “this whole pretending not to care thing would probably work better if you stopped staring at the ceiling.”

Jax frowned immediately.

“I’m not starin’.”

“You checked the rigging twice.”

“Bad rigging kills people.”

Zooble gave a small hum.

“You throw knives.”

“That’s controlled.”

Before Zooble could answer, the house lights dimmed.

The crowd quieted by slow degrees while Caine launched into what was undoubtedly an exhausting introduction.

Jax remained for all of ten seconds before muttering something under his breath, turning, and disappeared.

Zooble glanced up just in time to catch him leaving.

“Wow,” they called after him, entirely too amused. “You’re not even pretending anymore.”

Jax lifted a hand, extending a finger without turning around.

“Shut up.”

The stairs to the upper balcony felt longer than usual.

By the time he reached the railing, the crowd below had already settled into anticipation, warm light stretching across the ring while orchestra music drifted softly upward. People slouched into tiered seats with drinks in hand, whispering in lowered voices before the show properly began.

Jax wedged himself against the painted railing with the vague determination of somebody absolutely not invested in this and immediately ignored the annoyed look somebody nearby gave him.

From here, he could actually see the height. Which, unfortunately, made everything worse.

His attention drifted upward anyway, following the spotlight as it climbed higher and higher above the ring.

And then he found you.

For a second, he forgot to move.

You were already suspended high above the center ring.

One knee hooked easily over the bar, posture relaxed in a way that should have annoyed him considering the height. Velvet glowed softly under the light as the trapeze drifted through its slow arc, the dark plum of your costume fading into pale, golden detailing.

That part caught him off guard, though not for the reason he expected.

You looked familiar.

Not unchanged, exactly. Months on the ground had settled into you in quiet ways Jax had noticed long before anyone else seemed to, little hesitations that appeared and disappeared before you realized they were there. But something about being in the air seemed to loosen all of it again. The carefulness disappeared from your shoulders. The tension he had watched you carry without complaint eased somewhere between one slow movement and the next.

The trapeze drifted through a slow arc, and somewhere between one movement and the next, Jax realized how much he had missed seeing you like this. Your grip shifted higher along the rope, posture shifting naturally with the movement instead of resisting it.

The audience had gone quieter without him noticing when it happened. Somewhere nearby, applause faded into soft anticipation while the orchestra carried on beneath everything, distant enough to blur into background noise.

Jax barely heard any of it.

Because, painfully, it struck him that he had forgotten what this looked like.

Not the act. You.

The version of you that stopped thinking too hard. The one that disappeared into movement so completely it almost looked instinctive.

The swing carried you lower before momentum shifted again, the movement smooth enough to look effortless from below. One hand loosened briefly from the rope as you adjusted, body following the motion with practiced ease before the trapeze swept back through the air.

And then, without hesitation, you tipped upside down. Like it was the easiest thing in the world.

A quiet sound moved through the tent, half gasp and half disbelief, but fully sharp with surprise as the audience leaned forward in their seats.

Somewhere farther back, applause scattered briefly before fading again, swallowed by anticipation as the trapeze carried you through another slow arc.

Jax did not move, or rather, he couldn’t.

One knee stayed hooked securely over the bar, your body folding easily into the motion as though the air itself had decided to hold you there. The next swing carried you farther.

Warm light shifted across your face as momentum pulled you through the air, tulle and ribbons catching briefly before settling again. Somewhere below, the audience stayed silent as you picked up speed, the orchestra covering the creak of rope overhead.

Then the trapeze swept back. Toward him.

Jax straightened before he realized he was doing it.

The distance disappeared slowly enough to feel unreal. Both hands let go of the rope and stretched outward with the movement, fingers loose and reaching as the swing carried you toward the edge of the ring. Your body stayed suspended in that impossible position, upside down and effortless, the back of your knees hooked securely over the bar while gravity pulled loose strands of hair weightless around your face.

The audience reacted before he could.

A soft gasp rippled outward as people leaned forward all at once, heads turning toward the balcony where Jax stood beside the railing. Somebody laughed quietly, soft with surprise, the sound swallowed quickly by anticipation.

Because suddenly there were only inches between you.

Jax stopped breathing.

You hovered there for one impossible second, carried by momentum and held in place just long enough to feel deliberate. Stage light softened across your features while your hand stretched toward him, fingertips lingering close enough to touch without ever quite getting there.

Your eyes found his.

The change was small enough that most people probably would not have noticed it.

Jax did.

Something softened around your expression the second recognition settled in, the focus of performance easing as you drifted impossibly close. One hand remained stretched toward him, fingers relaxed and close enough to the railing that, if either of you moved even slightly, the distance would disappear entirely.

The tent seemed to go strangely still around him.

The orchestra blurred somewhere below while stage lights captured the gold stitching of your costume, glimmering against the sharp lines of shadow across your face. You looked at him with an ease that made the whole moment feel rehearsed despite knowing it wasn’t.

Like you had expected him to be there. Like you had known exactly where to look.

Jax realized, dimly, that he had leaned closer against the railing.

Close enough now that he could see the smallest shift near the corner of your mouth before it turned into something almost unbearably familiar.

A smile.

The audience around him responded, surprise giving way to delight as the impossible closeness settled in. Someone nearby let out a quiet laugh beneath their breath.

“Lucky guy.”

Heat climbed up the back of Jax’s neck so quickly it felt embarrassing.

Because somehow, in front of an entire crowd, suspended several feet above the ground and hanging by just your legs like this was a perfectly normal thing to do, you still managed to look at him like the two of you were alone.

And for one strange second, it almost felt true.

The walk back to your trailer happened without either of you really acknowledging that it was happening.

Jax simply appeared beside you after the crowd thinned, hands shoved into his pockets and expression carefully vague.

You were still buzzing.

Adrenaline sank electric beneath your skin, warm from the thrill of applause and the impossible feeling of leaving the ground again. Bits of glitter clung stubbornly to your costume, hair slightly undone from hanging upside down for half the performance.

“So,” you said eventually, glancing sideways at him, “how long were you standing up there lookin’ like somebody had just ruined your life?”

“I looked normal.”

“You looked deeply concerned.”

“...Needed a better angle, that’s all.”

He looked away a second too late, color creeping faintly up the back of his neck.

The trailer came into view faster than expected, light spilling faintly from the small window. You paused at the door, fingers already reaching for the fastening near your shoulder with an exhausted sigh.

“I desperately need a shower,” you muttered, “and to get out of this costume before I pass out.”

Something unreadable crossed Jax’s face, briefly. You caught it anyway.

“Oh my god,” you started, grin spreading immediately. “Are you still recovering?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look moments away from cardiac arrest.”

“You swung upside down off a trapeze in front of a live audience,” he replied flatly. “Forgive me for havin’ concerns.”

You glanced over.

“Mm. Seemed a little personal.”

“…shut up.” Jax narrowed his eyes. You only smiled wider.

Inside, the trailer still carried traces of rushed preparation: makeup scattered across the vanity, costume pieces abandoned in mild chaos, flickering bulbs glowing around the mirror.

You had barely made it halfway through removing one glove before Jax spoke again.

“…you looked happy.”

His gaze flicked away almost immediately afterward, jaw tightening like he already regretted saying it out loud.

“You looked like yourself again,” he muttered, voice lowering at the end. “That’s all.”

You went quieter than expected after that.

Maybe it was the leftover adrenaline still humming beneath your skin, or maybe it was the fact that Jax almost never said things like that without burying them beneath five layers of sarcasm immediately afterward. Either way, the words stayed with you longer than they probably should have.

You glanced down at the glove still half-peeled from your hand, fingers catching absently against the fastening before looking back over at him.

“You climbed onto a balcony,” you said, softer now.

Jax exhaled through his nose like he already regretted allowing himself sincerity.

“You’re really stuck on that.”

“You hate heights.”

“I hate your heights.”

The correction came too quickly.

He busied himself, looking anywhere except directly at you.

“…forget I said that.”

Unfortunately for him, warmth had already spread embarrassingly far across your face.

You stepped closer without thinking.

Jax stayed where he was.

“You know,” you started, “for somebody who spent a week calling this a terrible idea, you looked pretty invested.”

“That was surveillance.”

“Mm.”

“Professional observation.”

“You climbed several flights of stairs.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“You were swingin’ upside down like you had a personal problem with gravity.”

The laugh slipped out before you could stop it.

Jax looked at you again, lingering this time. His eyes caught briefly on glitter still scattered across your costume, and then a loose ribbon tied around your neck.

You turned toward the vanity with a tired sigh, fingers fumbling half-heartedly with one of the tiny fastenings near your shoulder.

“I seriously need to get out of this thing,” you muttered. “Whoever designed costume hooks this small deserves consequences.”

The vanity lights glowed softly against scattered makeup and abandoned costume pieces, the trailer feeling smaller than before.

You barely noticed Jax move.

One hand landed against the edge of the vanity near your shoulder, close enough that when you glanced up into the mirror, he was suddenly there beside you instead of across the room. 

“You’re terrible at these,” he mumbled, eyes dropping toward the fastening near your shoulder.

“Wow. Mean.”

“Observant.”

His hand lifted, hesitating for only a second before fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the costume, steadying fabric near your shoulder with a familiarity that settled something strange and warm somewhere beneath all the leftover adrenaline.

“Hold still.”

The words came quieter than usual.

Annoyingly enough, you listened.

His reflection hovered close in the mirror while he worked, near enough now that you could feel the warmth of the stage lights caught beneath his jacket. The silence stretched comfortably between you, interrupted only by the faint clink of jewelry against the vanity and the occasional muttered complaint under his breath whenever a fastening refused to cooperate.

“This thing is aggressively complicated,” he muttered.

“Thought you said I looked good.”

Jax’s hand flattened briefly against the vanity beside you, “I liked you better when you were several feet in the air and incapable of talkin’.”

His eyes flicked upward immediately.

A mistake.

Because suddenly the space between you felt even smaller than before.

Jax noticed it too. Unfortunately, that seemed to settle something smug back into place.

His attention drifted once more toward the stubborn fastening near your shoulder before returning to your face.

“Y’know,” he said quietly, voice carrying that maddening hint of amusement again, “for somebody desperate to get outta this costume, you’re movin’ real slow.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Figure you’ll either stop complainin’,” he added, gaze remaining a second too long, “or finally ask for help.”

He clearly expected an eye roll, maybe a sarcastic comment.

Instead, you tipped your head slightly.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to take the hint.”

Jax went completely still. Something flickered across his face before settling, softer this time, harder to place.

“…careful, dollface,” he muttered, like he was only halfway joking. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re serious.”

The smugness threatened its way back in for all of half a second.

Then he looked at you for a second too long. You were sure another sarcastic quip was about to escape his lips.

It never came.

Whatever he had been about to say disappeared somewhere between the look on your face and the instant, unmistakable loss of patience.

The movement caught you off guard, stealing whatever clever thing you had been about to say.

You had kissed Jax before. Just…not like this.

Suddenly, his hands found your waist, pulling you up against his chest long enough to steal your balance before setting you down on the vanity, positioning himself between your legs.

Lipsticks, bottles of nail polish, and various vanity items were sent clattering to the floor.

“Jax—”

“Don’t start,” he muttered, sounding faintly pleased with himself despite everything.

The little bit of composure he had been clinging to seemed to give out.

One hand slipped from your waist to your leg as he pulled you closer, shifting you until you were straddling him with an ease that felt unfairly familiar. The kiss deepened somewhere along the way, if that was even possible, your hands finding their way around his neck more for balance than intention as you kissed him back. A groan slipped from him against your lips in response.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours before he pulled back, breath heavy against your face as his nose brushed against your own.

“You spend an entire evening wreckin’ my sanity,” he sighed, somewhere between amusement and surrender, “and now, you’re cooperatin’?”

The laugh slipped out before you could stop it.

“Cooperating?”

“...Don’t make me explain it.”

But the protest landed weakly. Mostly because neither of you had pulled away. The moment settled quieter after that, though no less impossible to ignore.

This time, you initiated the kiss, lifting a hand to tilt his chin before pressing your lips against his. He sighed quietly into it, hands moving instinctively to your face, thumb brushing briefly against your cheek as he cupped it, as if he had not fully thought through what to do with the sudden change in momentum besides keep you there.

For a while, it stayed soft.

Forehead brushing forehead between stolen breaths, quiet laughter slipping out whenever somebody bumped awkwardly into the vanity or knocked something loose. Eventually, the laughter faded, Jax drifting impossibly closer again. Every shift knocked the two of you back together before either of you had time to think about moving apart.

By the time Jax finally let you break the kiss, you had to gasp for air, forehead pressing against his. Your costume sat somewhere between rumpled and defeated, ribbon  barely clinging around your neck. 

Jax looked no better: hair a tussled mess, overalls hanging loosely, expression completely incapable of pretending otherwise.

Makeup brushes and scattered costume pieces faded into background blur while the mirror reflected the two of you far too close to still pretend this had happened accidentally. Jax stayed, close enough to feel your breath against his skin. You moved to lean into the crook of his neck.

When he finally broke the silence, confidence settling back into place, his remark landed with enough smug satisfaction to make heat rush embarrassingly fast to your face:

“…thought you said you wanted to get outta that costume, no?”

a/n: i hope you enjoyed!! this request was super fun to do, and i LOVE LOVE LOVE the greatest showman inspiration. all of the different human au's really do remind me of that movie and i love it dearly

p.s: experimented with a new theme for this post, lemme know if you guys like it (the lace/stars)! also, would my posts look better without images at the start, or do you guys like them? let me knoww

as always, i love all the prompts you guys submit, so feel free to leave one in my inbox! i'll get through them all, slowly but surely..