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Ekko didn’t know what he was doing. Powder was gone. He knew that. Yet, for the first time in a while, he felt as if there was a chance that he could talk to her, and that she would listen. He didn’t care if it was Powder or Jinx. They were the same person, weren’t they, despite it all? He knew it was stupid. He knew it would most likely blow up in his face, but he had to try. He was prepared.
The light was blinding. It was all crumbling down. He was too late. No. He could still fix it. Four seconds back.
“Pow- Jinx,” Ekko said. She didn’t move, staring into space as if disconnected from reality. He couldn’t stop comparing her to the version he had just seen.
“Ekko?” Jinx said after a few seconds. She turned to face him. Ekko didn’t have to respond before the explosion spread across the room. Four seconds back.
“Jinx!” Ekko yelled, his voice shaky, tinged with desperation.
“Get out of here,” Jinx practically whispered, her hand with the bomb trembling. Ekko closed his eyes, and braced for impact. Four seconds back.
“Can we just talk?”
“I’m done talking,”
She was so stubborn. That never changed. If he wasn’t about to be blown up for the third time, he might have even taken solace in it. Another flash of light. Another four seconds back.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just trying to convince an old friend not to blow us up,”
“Friend, huh?” Jinx repeated incredulously, her face contorting into a smirk. She paused for a second, as if thinking of some snarky comeback. Nothing came out. It was like she was stuck in a state of disbelief. She kicked up some dust from the ground, and stretched herself out against the floor. Her eyes were fixed toward the ceiling. Analyzing. Contemplating. Her finger caressed the bomb.
“I heard from someone very special, that no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new,”
“Why don’t you just give up on me? I gave up on myself a long time ago. You’re stupid,” she said, a halfhearted chuckle escaped her lips.
“Yeah. I know,” Ekko said, sitting down beside her. For a second, it felt like they were kids again. Jinx leaned her head against his shoulder. Ekko jumped, but then steadied himself. The moment was fragile. One move and it would shatter.
“I’m just… so tired,” Jinx muttered. “I never wanted to change,”
She had changed. That much was clear. They both had. Change is inevitable. As inescapable as time itself. Yet, despite it all, they were still the same people, and always would be, for better or for worse, until they were gone.
“I don’t want to change anymore. I can’t do it. Everything keeps getting worse. I keep making everything worse. I can’t stop,”
“You don’t make everything worse. You’re my best friend. You always will be. That won’t change,”
“Y’know. It’s funny. The last time I saw you we were trying to kill each other. I could’ve sworn you wanted me dead. Now you’re trying to convince me not to kill myself,”
“I swear you’ll never have to see me after today if you don’t want to. You can argue with me, or try to push me away, or kill me. You can do whatever you want. Just please stay. Promise me?”
“No promises, boy savior,” Jinx replied, but gave him a little nod of reassurance. “Thanks for sticking around though,”
Hesitantly, Ekko reached his hand towards Jinx’s, until their fingers became intertwined, fit together like puzzle pieces. It was so natural, so right, like his hand was created for the sole purpose of holding hers. In that moment, he realized just how much he missed her, and just how much he needed her.