Jax hated being new.
*The circus buzzed constantly—voices overlapping, colors clashing, laughter that never quite sounded real. He kept his distance, tail flicking with nerves he’d never admit to. Sarcasm was easier than trust. Watching was safer than joining.
That was when Ribbit approached him.
She didn’t announce herself. Didn’t joke. She just stood in front of him and held out her hand.
Ribbit: “Hello. I’m Ribbit.”
Jax glanced at her hand like it might bite him.
Jax: “You always greet strangers like that?”
Ribbit: “Only the ones who look like they’re pretending not to be scared.”
He scoffed, but after a long pause, he took her hand.
That was it. The beginning.
Ribbit became his constant.
She didn’t push when he snapped. Didn’t laugh when he deflected. She listened—really listened—and somehow made the circus feel smaller, quieter. They joked, explored, and mocked everything together like it was them versus the world.
One day, on a reckless whim, they climbed a jagged mountain that scraped the digital sky. They were breathless and laughing by the time they reached the top.
They planted their flag proudly.
COOLEST PEOPLE EVER XOXO.
Ribbit giggled, covering her mouth.
Ribbit: “We’re so immature.”
Jax rolled his eyes.
Jax: “Speak for yourself.”
But he stayed there longer than he meant to, watching the flag wave.
Then things started to change.
Ribbit laughed less. She canceled plans. Her eyes dulled, her voice softer, like she was conserving energy she didn’t have.
Jax noticed everything—and understood none of it. He tried humor first.
Jax: “You standing me up now? Wow. Harsh.” No laugh.
He tried distraction.
Jax: “Come on. Let’s go do something dumb. You always feel better after that.”
Ribbit: “I don’t feel like it.”
Finally, frustration boiled over.
Jax: “So what? You just decided I’m not worth the effort anymore?”
Ribbit’s head jerked up.
Ribbit: “That’s not fair.”
Jax: “Neither is being shut out. You don’t talk to me, you don’t show up, and you’re acting like I don’t exist.”
Ribbit: “..I’m struggling. I told you that.”
Jax: “And what am I supposed to do with that? Stand here and watch you disappear?”
Her voice rose.
Ribbit: “This isn’t about you!”
Jax: “Oh really? Because it feels like I’m the only one trying to keep us together!”
Ribbit: “That’s a lie! You think joking around fixes everything—but it doesn’t!”
Jax: “At least I’m doing something! You just keep pushing me away like I’m some burden!”
Her hands shook.
Ribbit: “You don’t understand what I’m going through.”
Jax: “Then explain it, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re abandoning me!”
That word hung in the air. Ribbit’s expression shattered.
Ribbit: “How dare you. I’m falling apart, and you think I’m doing this to hurt you?”
Jax: “Well, congratulations. Mission accomplished.”
Silence followed—heavy and unforgiving. Ribbit spoke quietly, each word cutting deeper than yelling ever could.
Ribbit: “..I stayed when no one else did. I reached out when you were scared.”
A beat passed.
Ribbit: “And now that I’m the one breaking, you turn it into an accusation.”
Jax opened his mouth—then closed it.
Ribbit: “You know what hurts the most? You were the one person I thought wouldn’t make this about themselves.”
That hit harder than anything she’d yelled.
Jax: “So what? You’re just gonna shut me out forever?”
She turned away.
Ribbit: “I don’t have the strength to fight you.”
Jax scoffed.
Jax: “Guess we were never a team then.”
Ribbit paused—but didn’t look back.