The sky above the Digital Circus was wrong in the way everything here was wrong—too deep, too bright, stars scattered like someone had overcorrected. Still, it was quiet. For once.

You sat on the grass with your knees pulled up, Jax beside you, stretched out on his elbows like he owned the place. The others were nearby—Ragatha sitting politely, Gangle fidgeting with her mask, Zooble half-turned away, Kinger staring at something only he could see.

Jax tilted his head, squinting at the stars. “So,” he said lazily, “do you think Gangle’s even capable of being happy?”

Gangle flinched.

Jax didn’t look at her. “I mean, seriously. Her ‘happy’ mask breaks every five seconds. Kinda defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?” He smirked. “Maybe hanging out with Zooble’ll fix it. Misery loves company and all that.”

Zooble snorted. Gangle shrank in on herself.

Ragatha’s voice was gentle, but firm. “I think it’s still better than hanging out with someone who’s mean to her all the time.”

The air shifted.

Jax’s ears twitched. He finally sat up, grin already in place. “Oh, please. She likes when I’m mean to her.”

You turned toward him before you could stop yourself. “I thought you’d— I don’t know,” you said slowly, choosing your words, “care what people actually liked.”

That did it.

The grin didn’t fall, not exactly—but it folded inward. Like paper creased too many times.

“…Yeah,” Jax muttered, suddenly very interested in the ground. “You’re right.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t peaceful. It was loaded.

You swallowed. “Jax,” you asked, softer now, “do you have any actual friends?”

The stars felt farther away.

Before he could answer, Ragatha spoke—too quickly, too honestly.

“Not anymore.”

Jax snapped his head toward her.

The look in his eyes wasn’t playful. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was raw—anger, shock, something dangerously close to hurt.

Ragatha froze. “I—I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry, Jax, I just—”

She stood up abruptly, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said again, already backing away. “I should go check on everyone.”

She retreated toward Kinger, Zooble, and Gangle, voice forced bright as she tried to redirect the moment that had slipped out of her control.

You stayed.

Jax stared after her for a second too long. When he finally looked away, his jaw was tight.

You leaned closer, lowering your voice. “What was that about?”

He scoffed—a quick, sharp sound. “Nothing.”

You didn’t move.

“Seriously,” he added, folding his arms, shoulders drawing in despite himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

But you could tell.

It wasn’t nothing.

It was history. It was loss. It was a line that shouldn’t have been crossed—and the fact that it still hurt meant it mattered.

The stars kept shining, uncaring.

And Jax leaned back again, staring up at them like if he didn’t look at you, you wouldn’t see how small he’d made himself feel.