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i.
“Powder. Ugh, she’s so annoying sometimes. I told her that the graffiti on Sevika’s stupid bar wasn’t even that good—like, come on, who even uses pink for a skull?—and she just flipped out ! Called me a ‘wannabe artist.’ Like, okay?”
Ekko’s chest burns as he violently jolts awake, aware , coughing as if he’s been drowning moments before. His head is pounding, all memories flooding his mind and spinning round and round. It takes a few moments for his vision to stabilise and start clearing up.
What the hell happened?
“Hey, are you okay?”
Hearing your voice, familiar yet a voice he never thought his ears would detect ever again, he freezes. His eyes snap open, adjusting to the dim glow of the neon streetlamp. After a while of simply blinking, right hand on his forehead, he dares to turn your way, only to face you in utter shock.
There you are, right beside him, nervously fiddling with a small gadget in your hand while waiting for his answer.
Ekko’s breath gets caught in his throat.
His gaze desperately darts around, taking in the distorted version of Zaun. The buildings look eerily familiar but cleaner, more polished. And then there is you —alive, bright-eyed, rambling as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong.
This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
“You’re staring at me like I’ve got two heads or something. All good in there?” You ask, leaning closer as you gently tap his head.
No, no, no.
This must be some kind of twisted joke, a dream soon to turn into a nightmare, like the ones he experienced after your passing.
A strong wave of dizziness takes over and he loses balance. You’re not fast enough to catch him and he collapses on the floor, tears gleaming in his eyes.
“Shit, Ekko, I told you I’m fine walking home by myself! You need to focus on fixing that sleep schedule of yours. You work too much….”
You kneel down to check on him but as soon as you reach for his arm, he manages to pull himself up, wincing as his muscles protest. “I’m fine,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “Just… where am I?”
Your brow furrows. “Zaun, duh. Did you hit your head?”
Zaun. But not his Zaun. This is different. Cleaner. Sharper. Brighter. Wrong.
You wave a hand in front of his face when he’s up on his feet again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Seriously, you’re acting super weird.”
He shakes his head, trying to gather himself. “I’m… just tired.”
“Yeah, no shit,” you say, leaning back on your heels. “Well, you can sleep at my place if you want. It’s a bit of a mess, but it’s better than the middle of the street.”
“Why…Why are you helping me?”
I didn’t protect you. I let you die-
You scoff, crossing your arms. “You have to be kidding me, really.”
He stares at you, his chest tightening. You are so casual, so warm, so alive. This isn’t his world—it is someone else’s. Someone’s whom was able to keep you safe and happy.
You wave a hand in front of his face. “Helloooo? You good, or do I need to drag you there myself?”
He blinks, shaking himself out of his trance. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
“Finally,” you say grabbing his arm. “You’re lucky I’m such a good friend, y’know.”
As you lead him down the street, continuing your pointless rambling about Powder and some argument over graffiti, Ekko follows silently, his mind racing. He doesn’t belong here, but for the first time in years, being near you feels like he is home.
ii.
Ekko is standing in the corner of your cluttered workshop, his fingers trembling slightly as he tightens the final screws on a device he barely understands anymore. Weeks have been spent scavenging parts, tearing apart old tech, and sketching blueprints on scraps of paper. The machine is almost ready—his way out of this world is almost ready.
You, of course, don’t know. In fact, you seem to know nothing about Ekko lately. Ever since that incident outside the bar, he’s been acting strange in a way you can’t pinpoint.
“Hey, genius,” you call from across the room, pulling him out of his thoughts. You’re perched on a high stool, playing with a broken clock. “You’ve been staring at that thing for hours. What is it, anyway?”
He stiffens at your question, keeping his face carefully neutral. “Just… something to help me get around. It’s nothing.”
You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Since when do you get all secretive about your projects? You used to brag about your tech every chance you got.”
“Since now,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze.
It’s been this way for quite some time now—Ekko growing quieter, more distant, all while you try to bridge the gap with your usual chatter. You’ve noticed the way he avoids your eyes, the way he flinches whenever you stand too close. It’s not like him.
And it hurts.
“You’re acting weird, Ekko,” you admit, setting the clock down and leaning back on your hands. “Like, even weirder than usual. Did I do something?”
“No,” he says quickly, but his voice sounds strained, and the single word only makes you more assured that there is indeed something going on.
“Then what?” you press, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Is this about Powder? Because if so, she’s the one being difficult, not me.”
Ekko clenches his jaw, his hands tightening around the tool in his grip. He can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand—not fully. How could he possibly explain that you’re not even supposed to be here? That this version of you isn’t his you? That in his world, you’re just a memory he carries like a scar?
“It’s nothing,” he says finally, his voice low. “Just… drop it, okay?”
You flinch at the coldness in his tone, but you force a laugh, trying to mask the sting. “Fine. Be mysterious, then. See if I care.”
Turning away, you pretend to focus on the clock again, but your heart isn’t in it. You want to push him, demand answers, but something in his expression stops you. There’s a pain in his eyes that you can’t quite place, and for the first time, you wonder if this is bigger than any conflict he might have had with people in the past.
Ekko exhales slowly, his shoulders sagging. He hates doing this—pushing you away. But if he lets you in, it’ll only make leaving harder.
Because he is leaving. As much as he wants to stay, to pretend this is his life, he knows it isn’t real. He doesn’t belong here. And the longer he stays, the harder it’ll be to say goodbye. Especially to you.
“Hey,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence. “For what it’s worth, you’re still my favorite nerd. Even if you’re being a jerk.”
He looks up at you, startled by the softness in your voice. For a moment, he wants to tell you everything—to explain why he can’t let himself get too close. To tell you he loves you. But that would be partially true as you’re not his. Instead, he just nods. “Thank you.”
You offer him a small yet warm smile and his resolve falters for a moment. But then his gaze falls on the machine again—his way out—and he reminds himself why he has to do this.
It’s almost done. Just a little longer.
iii.
Ekko stands in the middle of the workshop, his hand resting on the activation lever of the machine. The room hums faintly with power, the cobbled-together contraption sparking faintly as it waits for his final command. It’s ready. After days of work, this is it—it’s time to go back to the people who need him.
But his chest feels tight, and it’s not just from the lingering ache of exhaustion. It’s because of you.
The door creaks open, and his heart sinks. You’re standing there, your expression caught somewhere between confusion and anger. “What the hell is this?” you ask, stepping inside. “Ekko, what’s going on?”
He doesn’t look at you. He can’t. “It’s… nothing.”
“Nothing?” you snap, gesturing at the machine. “You’ve been shutting me out for God knows how long, and now I find you messing with… whatever this is you’ve made? Don’t lie to me, Ekko.”
He finally meets your eyes, and the raw emotion there almost makes him crumble. But he takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “I can’t explain it.”
You take a step closer, your frustration giving way to hurt. “Why? Why can’t you just tell me? I’m not mad—I just… I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this.”
Ekko clenches his fists, his mind racing. He could tell you the truth—about the alternate universe, about the fact that you don’t even exist anymore in his world. But what good would it do?
“It’s better this way,” he replies quietly.
Your hands drop to your sides, and the look in your eyes nearly breaks him. “Better for who? For me? Or for you?”
“Y/n…” His voice cracks, but he quickly swallows it down. “I don’t belong here. I need to leave. That’s all I can say.”
You shake your head, your voice trembling. “You’re lying. You’ve been here all this fucking time, and now you’re just… leaving? Without a word?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do!” you shout, stepping closer until you’re right in front of him. “Whatever this is, whoever you think you are—you’re my… friend, Ekko. You don’t just get to disappear without telling me why.”
His hands tremble as he reaches up to touch your shoulder, his gaze locked on yours. “You are—” His voice breaks, and he has to force himself to keep going. “You’re amazing. You’re… everything good about this place. You’re the reason I’m still alive. But I can’t stay.”
You stare at him, your heart pounding. His words feel final, and the weight of them crushes you completely. You fail to understand. Nothing makes sense, absolutely nothing. “Why?” you whisper, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “Why can’t you stay? Is it something I did?”
“No!” he says, more forcefully than he means to. He takes your hands, holding them tightly. “It’s not you. It’s… me. It’s my world. I need to go back to where I came from.”
You can’t comprehend what he’s saying, but the desperation in his voice silences your questions. You nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “Fine,” you say, even though it’s anything but fine. “If you have to go… go.”
His hands linger on yours for a moment longer before he lets go. “I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me,” he says softly. “But I can’t. Not here.”
Tears spill over as you watch him turn back to the machine. “Will I ever see you again?” you ask, your voice barely audible.
He hesitates, his hand hovering over the lever. “I don’t know.”
That’s all he can give you.
With one last look at you, his expression filled with regret and longing, he pulls the lever. The machine sparks to life, and the air around him ripples with energy. You take a step back, shielding your eyes as the light grows blinding.
When the light fades, he’s there, his tired body slumped down on the ground. You immediately run to his side, kneeling down and pulling him to your lap. The room falls silent, the only sound the faint hum of the now blown up machine. You gently caress his cheek, tears running down your hot cheeks.
After a while, he wakes up.
And it doesn’t take you very long to realise.
You glance at the remains one last time.
And you hope that wherever he is, he’s doing what he set out to do—saving his people, his world, even if it meant leaving this one behind.