Chapter Text
Padidly Highschool of Collaboration and Science.
A home for the prospective students of both Piltover and Zaun. But more importantly, home of a place to escape from the judgemental and peering eyes of the outside world. A place where one can feel safe, comfortable, and liberated. Home to the poetry club and its sole member.
Powder's leg repeatedly bounced while she bit down on the metal end of her pencil. Her long blue hair was neatly braided and resting on her back. Her notebook stared at her from the table, taunting her to write something down. She had something lurking in the back of her head all day, but it felt like every time she grabbed hold, it would barely escape her grasp. More often, though, the people around her would ruin it for her. Unfortunately, Powder was very accustomed to the struggles of bullying; from gangs of snobbish Pilties kicking dirt on her to other Zaunites just wanting to pick on someone weaker to feel more powerful, she had gone through it all. Powder, on multiple occasions, had found herself wishing she was someone else. Wishing that she wasn't the weak little Powder that got picked on and messed up on her tinkering projects.
But that all changed once she was in the club room. The tiny space was barely even half of a classroom, yet it was her home away from home. With her siblings having graduated and gone, it was entirely hers to enjoy. No more of Mylo stinking up the place by taking off his shoes or Vi getting blood on the table after recovering from one of her fights; just time to enjoy writing poetry with no interruptions.
Then a knock came from the door.
"Hello? Is Powder there?"
Powder almost jumped out of her seat, unprepared for the sudden voice interrupting her personal oasis. She quickly shoved her book into her backpack and moved to the door. Putting her ear up against the smooth wood, Powder listened carefully for any voices; but could only hear slight shuffling. She leaned back from the door, hesitant, as she felt her heart banging against her chest.
Okay, Powder. Either open the door, accept whatever happens, let them get bored and leave, or risk them breaking down the door. Here goes nothing.
Powder took a deep breath, counted to three, and turned the knob. Waiting for her was a person she had never seen at school, a guy with white dreads that contrasted with his dark skin, barely shorter than her. His school uniform blazer was unbuttoned, revealing the loose tie hanging from his neck. Only one backpack strap hung off his left shoulder as his brown eyes stared at her.
"Powder?" He asked.
"No. Not Powder." She corrected
Wait, what?
"Not Powder?"
"Not Powder."
What am I saying?
The boy nodded his head, understanding. "Okay. Not Powder."
Why am I not Powder?
He readjusted his backpack strap. "Well, 'Not Powder'; is this the poetry club?"
Powder looked at him curiously, trying to find any signs of ulterior motives. "Yes. It is," she answered.
"Well,... Can I come in?"
Powder had realized she was very firmly standing in the middle of the doorway, blocking the room. "Oh, uh, yeah." She awkwardly got out of the way and let him in. He nodded her thanks and stepped into the cozy room, dropping his backpack onto the table and turning back to face Powder.
"Nice place you got here. A bit small, though." The boy said.
"Well, a club doesn't need much space when you are the only member," Powder explained. "It's pretty peaceful, a nice getaway."
Now, will you ruin it?
"So, who are you? What are you here for? To be able to say you "write poetry" to seem cool and pick up girls?" She interrogated, failing to hide her disdain for his presence.
He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm Ekko, and no, actually. It's, uh, for" he paused as if looking for the right words. "Other reasons. I don't really feel comfortable getting into it right now."
While she usually had trouble being empathetic with other people, she recognized the feeling on his face too well. "Oh. Sorry about that. I get what you mean." Powder stopped resting on the wall next to the door and made her way over to her backpack. She sat on the metal folding chair; and motioned for Ekko to sit with her.
"Well, let's get started."
Ekko smiled, chuckled, gripped one of the spare chairs, and took a seat. After moving his backpack, he sat attentively and alert, waiting for Powder's words. "Alright," he said, unaware of the dam that just let loose. "how do we get started?"
"Well, we can start from the basics, all the types of poems you could do like haikus or ode; though I really only do freeform cause it feels less restrictive, you don't have to do that just cause I said so. Then there are the things that everyone knows from English class like rhyme scheme and meter, which can also really help with music making, but obviously, that's more important if you want to make music, but I am not going to assume. Then once you have that down, you get into more of the subtle and complicated stuff like enjambment or assonance or-"
Powder stopped abruptly. Ekko was staring at her with the widest eyes a boy could have, ill-prepared for the barrage of information Powder had dumped on him.
Powder apologized, nervously playing with her braid. "My bad, you probably didn't want to hear all that. I'm sorry for wasting your time like that."
"No, no! It's fine! This stuff is cool; I'm having fun."
She was stunned. This was the first time someone had, essentially, enjoyed it when she started talking about poetry. Vi and Claggor never understood it in school, and Mylo thought it wasn't "manly" and didn't even bother. This was the first time she had someone not be annoyed, let alone want to hear more.
Powder could feel her cheeks turning red. "O-okay, well, for now, let's just go s-start writing." She barely mustered out while handing him her pencil and a piece of paper. "You can write about anything."
Ekko grabbed the paper and pencil from Powder; the way his hands brushed hers drove a slight tingle down her spine. "Anything?" He asked.
"Yep, anything. Like the weather or something, or something you like." She further clarified.
The boy was deep in thought, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table. "Something I like..." He mumbled under his breath. Powder could have sworn she saw him sneaking glances at her, but that had to be her imagination. Right? "I think I got an idea." He began jotting down something on the paper, turning away whenever Powder attempted to get a peek. She counted the seconds, waiting on the edge of her seat for him to put his pencil down, and after some time, he finally finished.
"Hmm. I think I'm done." Ekko said, putting his pencil on the table. Powder let out a big sigh; she wasn't even aware she had been holding her breath.
"D-do you mind if I read-"
"Oh shit!" Ekko exclaimed, looking at his phone. "I didn't realize it was this late." He jumped out of his seat and hastily gathered his things, "I'm sorry, I gotta go."
"Oh, okay." Powder could feel the excitement inside her die. She was reminded once more that good things end.
"When do we meet up again?"
Her head perked up, taking a moment to register the words she just heard. "What?"
"I mean, clubs meet up regularly, right? When is the next time we'll meet?"
Powder still had trouble understanding what he was saying. There was no way he was serious. She would very much like him to be, but she had to be misunderstanding him. Realizing the amount of silence that had just passed, she forced the words out of her mouth. "I mean, I come here every day after school. You're free to show up anytime, E-Ekko." She could barely muster the courage to say his name.
"Nice. I'll try my best; I have practices on Monday and Thursday, but other than that, I'll be here." Ekko said. "Oh, by the way, as much as I enjoy the name Not Powder," he said sarcastically, "What should I call you?"
Oh, Janna, I forgot. I'm Not Powder! What do I say? It's too late to go back now, is it? Why do I keep messing things up?
The demeaning voices of the hateful students echoed in her head, reinforcing her self-hate.
...Why am I stuck with her?...
...She fucks up everything; nothing goes right when she's around...
...How can one girl be such a-
"Jinx!" She screamed, startling both herself and Ekko. "Just call me Jinx."
Ekko nodded, but not an awkward nod. Not one out of pity or him trying to get out of a situation, but an honest one. "Jinx." He said as if he was tasting how it felt in his mouth. "Nice. I like it."
Thank goodness
Ekko slung the backpack behind him and made his way to the door and the hallway outside. "I'll see you next time Jinx." And with that, he disappeared.
The newly born Jinx sat stunned, staring mindlessly into the hallway as she slouched in her chair. She replayed the entire encounter as if trying to burn the memory into her brain. Jinx could feel her phone vibrating with notifications, but she was too shocked to care or even be aware that the phone was buzzing. In a moment of clarity, she looked down at the table, at the paper Ekko left behind. The handwriting was intricate in a sense; the way the letters carefully linked to each other with the finesse of a cursive veteran yet had the messy scrawl of a teenager. The words were centralized at the top of the loose leaf paper, 3 simple sentences with no line break as if he had written a letter rather than a poem. Jinx tried her hardest to stifle a yelp, her breath getting caught in her throat the more she read the words, and eventually her jaw just dropped.
'Ocean blue hair. How stunning it could be. If only it was free.'
"What. The fuck. Is happening?!"