Work Text:
Jinx had put up a small memorial in the corner of his – their– room.
There was no room left in the Firelights’ hideout by the time Ekko returned home. His own room had been left untouched though, and he had offered it to Jinx, telling her he would share a room with a couple of others. But Jinx had given him an annoyed expression with a roll of her eyes.
“Don’t be silly,” she had told him. “I’ll share your room with you. You don’t need to move out.”
There had been a look in her eyes back then. The way her hand had lightly held onto his was to say something that Jinx couldn’t voice, but Ekko still understood.
Please don’t go away. Stay.
Ekko couldn’t bring himself to turn her down with how vulnerable she had looked despite trying to stand with her back straight and her head held up. Despite trying to harden her expression when her pale cheeks had been decorated with dried tear stains and tracks of black mascara. So he agreed, took her hand, and led her to their room.
Soon, traces of Jinx showed up in the room. A few more clothes in his wardrobe, strands of blue hair on the pillows on the bed, messy notes with a terrible handwriting that only Jinx herself could read, a music player, bright-colored doodles on the walls and, lastly, a small memorial in the memory of a little girl named Isha in the corner.
It didn’t have much; just a bunny ear headband that was apparently Isha’s favorite, a few incense sticks, and a small puppet resembling Isha.
It broke something in Ekko when he realized Jinx would put up at least one memorial for a loved lost one in every universe. He wished there was at least one universe where she didn’t have to carry this grief with her.
Whenever Jinx wasn’t busy in the workshop or in her hideout, she would sit down on the floor by the memorial and busy herself with working on something. Ekko had no idea what she was doing; whenever he walked into their room, Jinx would instantly hide whatever she was busy with away before lifting her head and greeting her with a coy smile.
But it was fine. Ekko was sure Jinx would let him know when the time was right.
Right now, as he pushed open the door to their room, he was not surprised to see Jinx shoving something in a bag and putting it away.
She looked up at him, the corners of her lips lifting up into a small smile. “Hey. You came back early today.”
“Missed you,” Ekko answered sincerely and was pleased to see Jinx’s cheeks slightly turn red despite the way she huffed and looked away.
“What a big softie you are,” she muttered, but her tone was fond.
“I have something for you. A small gift,” Ekko said, walking to her and sitting down next to her on the floor. Jinx looked at him curiously. The light in the room was dim, the sun had set long ago, but Jinx’s eyes shone almost unnaturally. Ekko would always find himself mesmerized by them, no matter what colour they were or what universe it was. “I hope you like it,” he added nervously.
Jinx tilted her head. “But it’s not my birthday.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Ekko said with a smile and when Jinx eagerly reached out a hand to get her gift, he shook his head. “You should close your eyes first.”
Jinx gave him a suspicious look, retreating her hand. “Why? It’s not a bomb, is it?”
Ekko couldn’t suppress a laugh. “That should be my line, not yours!”
Jinx let out a short laugh, bumping her shoulder with his. “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t rub off my bad habits on you.”
Ekko held her gaze in silence, memorizing her smile. “Just trust me.”
“Always,” Jinx whispered after a few moments before closing her eyes and reaching out her hand again.
Ekko took out a folded piece of paper from his bag and put it in her hand. Jinx immediately opened her eyes and looked at Ekko with raised eyebrows after glancing at the paper.
“Unfold it,” Ekko said, wringing his hands together anxiously.
Jinx tentatively and carefully did so, her breath stopping for a second. Her eyes widened.
She looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes and hands shaking. “Ekko– this is–” her voice breaking with emotion.
“I hope I did her justice,” Ekko said, reaching out to cover her hands with his. “I never had the chance to meet Isha. I tried to picture how she looked like from what you told me about her and–”
Before he could even blink, before his brain even had the chance to register what was about to happen, Jinx pulled him into a hug. It happened so fast. The next thing Ekko knew, Jinx had wrapped her hands around his shoulders, letting out a sob.
Ekko held her back as Jinx tightly hugged him.
“Thank you,” she said, and when she pulled back, despite the tears running down her face, a smile was on her lips. “Your painting looks so much like her,” she looked down at the picture. “Her mischievous smile is so on point.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Ekko said, wiping her tears away gently.
He watched in silence as Jinx pulled out a tape from a drawer, sticking the picture of Isha on the wall above the memorial before burning an incense stick. Ekko reached out to do the same and when he leaned back, Jinx held his hand and put her head on his shoulder.
They sat together like that in silence for a while. Until Ekko’s eyes caught Jinx’s bag.
“Are you gonna tell me what you’re making?” He asked.
“You’ll know,” was Jinx’s soft reply after a few seconds.
She squeezed his hand and suddenly Ekko couldn’t shake the feeling away that she was apologizing. For what, he didn’t know, and it made something heavy settle in his chest.
A few days after the war, Ekko stumbled into their room with dried blood under his broken fingernails, with bandaged and bruised hands and cuts and scrapes on his arms.
He had been moving rubble after rubble with nothing but his bare hands, equally desperate and afraid to find her. With every rubble he moved, he had expected to catch a glimpse of her, of lifeless eyes staring at him, her limp and broken body, blue hair streaked with blood.
But he had found nothing. Jinx was gone, leaving nothing of her behind for him to find to grieve.
Ekko’s heart broke at the sight of the walls of their room, the doodles, her notes. He looked away, grief overtaking him before his eyes caught sight of something. He blinked back tears before walking over to the memorial in the room.
There, next to the puppet of Isha, was another one: one with short blue hair and pink buttons as eyes.
Ekko’s legs gave out. He kneeled before the memorial with a thud, not paying attention to the pain that shot up his already tired legs.
With a trembling hand, he reached out a hand to take the puppet. There were bright painted shapes all over its body, similar to the one’s Jinx had on the last day Ekko saw her.
At last, Ekko finally found out what Jinx had been working on.
There was a small note attached to the puppet. Ekko unfolded it slowly.
just a small thing to remember me by. thank you for everything ♡
ps: pull the string behind it.
pps: i'll leave it to you to find out if it’s a bomb xd
Through the tears running down her cheeks, Ekko managed a broken smile. He turned over the puppet, not even hesitating for a moment before pulling the string.
Nothing exploded in his face as he expected. Instead, a soft voice filled the silence in the room. It took Ekko a second to realize it was Jinx’s recorded voice humming a tune– it was something her mother used to sing, Jinx had told him once.
Ekko choked out a sob, wiping his tears with a hand before pulling the string again. And again and again.
Jinx’s voice comforted him as Ekko closed his eyes, pretending she was there with him in the room humming the song with her head on his shoulder.
Like a familiar scene from a memory. It was all he had now.