After the brutal confrontation with Pomni, the atmosphere between Jax and the world around him became thick with tension—an undercurrent of chaos simmering beneath his facade.

Jax tried to mask his unraveling with his usual bravado, slipping back into his arrogant, jerkish demeanor, but it was faltering.

His grip on composure was slipping, and the cracks in his armor grew wider with each passing day.

You could see the strain etched into his eyes, the silent plea for help behind his stubborn shrug.

You reached out gently, offering comfort, whispering that he didn't have to face this alone—that he could lean on you whenever he needed.

But Jax, true to his nature, dismissed it with a crooked smirk or a dismissive wave, stubborn as ever.

Still, beneath that veneer, the weight of his torment lingered, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

Then, one restless night, it all exploded in a nightmare so visceral it left him trembling.

In his dream, Pomni reappeared—different, distorted—her form flickering like a broken image.

They clashed again, but this time, she wasn't the same Pomni he knew.

She was slipping away, dissolving into nothingness, her figure teetering on the edge of abstraction, her eyes hollow and unrecognizable.

The scene was surreal, haunting—an abyss threatening to swallow her whole.

Jax jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Pain throbbed behind his eyes, and the world around him seemed to tilt and spin as if the room itself was melting into chaos.

He fought to steady his breath, but the nightmare clung to him with relentless ferocity, making his skin crawl with dread.

Anxiety seized him—a suffocating panic attack spiraling out of control.

His sight blurred, the room twisting and warping in his vision as the walls seemed to close in.

Desperate, he staggered toward the door, his legs trembling, the ringing of the nightmare echoing painfully in his ears.

Every step was a battle to stay upright, until the only thing that mattered was you—his anchor amidst the storm.

With frantic urgency, he yanked open the door, rushing down the hallway, the sound of his racing heartbeat pounding louder than his panicked breaths.

The hallway seemed endless, shadows stretching and twisting as he moved blindly toward your room.

Reaching the door, he fumbled with the key, his fingers trembling as he pushed it into the lock, desperate to find refuge.

He pushed open your door, stumbling inside, eyes wild with raw vulnerability.

His steps were unsteady, but he made it to your bed, collapsing onto it as if the world itself might collapse beneath him.

You looked up, surprised by his sudden entrance—until, through the chaos in his eyes, you saw something raw and something else, Jax quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, slowly calming down, your familiar scent soothing him.

He was exhausted.