You’ve been in the Digital Circus long enough to know that waiting doesn’t work here. Time stretches, loops, frays — but nothing ever arrives when it’s supposed to. So when Jax appears one day, loud and careless and grinning like this place is just another joke, it doesn’t feel like a miracle. It feels late.

You recognize him instantly. The laugh hasn’t changed. The way he stands like he owns the space around him hasn’t changed either. He doesn’t recognize you at all. He jokes with you like you’re new. Like you’re nothing. And every word feels like reopening something that never healed. You thought seeing him again would hurt less than waiting did. It doesn’t. He leans against a wall beside you, smirking. “So,” he says, glancing over. “You always this quiet, or am I just that charming?”