Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jinx was fuming. Which wasn’t to say that it was unusual for her to be. Because she often was. But today she was extra fuming.

The soft, slow music drifting in the background grated on her nerves, its syrupy tones making her stomach churn. She fought the urge to throw up. 

“Just smile and wave ,” her sister had said. Yeah, fucking right.

To make matters worse, she was entirely too sober for this occasion. She stared bitterly at the non-alcoholic fizzy drink in her hand, nursing it like a grudge she couldn’t let go of. 

Some nonsense about the venue not being insured for alcohol, or whatever. As far as Jinx was concerned, it was just a thinly veiled excuse to keep her from drinking. But it’s not like it’s her fault she can’t stop at one drink—or ten. It was all semantics. 

She kept her head down, her gaze fixed on the floral tablecloth. She didn’t like the design of it, quite the contrary, the sight of it made her skin crawl. But anywhere was better than looking at the dance floor, where her sister was probably batting her pudgy eyes and twirling around with her. 

The gall of her sister. Dancing on her wedding day. 

But somehow, Jinx dreaded the song ending more than the sight of her sister, undoubtedly getting lost in the moment with that uptown girl. Because the moment the music stopped, all those eyes would turn—and it’d be her turn. The big, fat maid of honor. 

Which was just her luck because soon enough, the song ended, and Jinx reluctantly looked up. Her gaze landed on the MC of the night—Jake, Jaybe, or maybe Jade, it was something like that. She couldn’t care less. He was some uptown bloke who took himself far too seriously, standing there with a microphone in hand like he was about to announce the second coming. 

Jinx glared at him, willing him with every ounce of her annoyance to skip her name. Just move on, call it a night, forget she exists.

But no. Lady luck had abandoned her ages ago, and tonight was no exception. 

“Now, it is my pleasure to ask Jinx to the stage for the maid of honor speech,” his voice boomed with too much eagerness, and she let out a small groan.

Jinx’s heart sank. She briefly considered faking a sudden, catastrophic illness—something dramatic enough to buy her an escape. But her eyes met her sisters ever so briefly. 

Worry? Anticipation? Hope? Jinx couldn’t quite tell what was swirling in Vi’s gaze. Whatever it was, she hated it. That look had no business being aimed at her. She had asked for this. 

Nevertheless, she stood, her legs feeling like lead, and walked toward the podium. Her heart hammered erratically, each beat louder than the last.

She was stupid to accept this role. “ Let’s make Vander proud ,” she had said. “ Let’s honor his wishes, ” she had said. What a load of bollocks. She shouldn’t have let her sister rope her into this sentimental nonsense. Vander was a dead man, for crying out loud. He wasn’t even at this blasted wedding.

As she reached the podium, she let out one last sigh. The crowd’s collective gaze bore down on her, a weight she felt acutely. If she was going to crash and burn, she might as well make it memorable.

She cleared her throat, the sound sharper than she intended.

“Evening,” she began, her voice slicing through the awkward silence like a blade. “For those of you who don’t know me—which, honestly, lucky you—I’m Jinx, Vi’s sister. And tonight, I have the enviable honor of pretending to be mentally stable for the next couple of minutes while I go through this speech.”

The people laughed, a polite ripple of amusement spreading through the room. Jinx blinked, caught off guard. She paused, her grip tightening on the podium.

That wasn’t a joke—this was going to be a long night. 

—

Click, click.

“Ugh!”

Jinx let out a growl of frustration and chucked her lighter away. The lighter hit the bottom of the balcony with a sharp clang, the sound echoing briefly before being swallowed by the quiet of the evening. 

She leaned against the railing, glaring at the city lights below. The fall night breeze did little to cool her temper, her mood as combustible as the unlit cigarette still lodged in her mouth. 

What a mess. Alone on the balcony, while a party raged on inside, the laughter and chatter filtering through the walls like a constant reminder of everything she didn’t want to be a part of.

“Need a light?” 

The voice, smooth and casual, sliced through her simmering thoughts. Jinx turned sharply, her eyes narrowing at the unexpected intruder on the balcony. Her scowl deepened, ready to bark some snide remark.

But then her gaze landed on the outstretched lighter, its tiny flame flickering against the night breeze. Her expression softened, if only slightly.

“Ever the boy savior,” Jinx muttered as she leaned forward, letting the tip of her cigarette meet the flame.

“You see me for the first time in five years, and that’s what you have to say?” he replied, his tone somewhere between amused and wounded.

“Shut it, Ekko, not in the mood.”

“Are you ever?” 

“Ha ha, poke the mentally unstable person, see where that takes you,” Jinx shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a long drag from her cigarette.

Ekko took a step forward, sliding into the empty spot beside her. He leaned back on the railing, his posture casual.

“Good speech.”

Jinx snorted, her lips curling into a bitter grin. “Oh yeah, buster? Is that why you left the nice warm party? You came to rub it in?” 

Ekko didn’t flinch. He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I see you haven’t changed. Still the cynic.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Jinx flicked her cigarette, the ember glowing bright in the dark, a slight hiss as the ashes drifted away into the night. “But why are you really here?”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his smirk never faltering. “I’m just here to admire your charm up close. You know, in case I missed any of it from inside.”

Jinx let out a humorless laugh, a sharp edge to her tone. “Well, you’re lucky. Charm’s a rare commodity—and I have lots of it.”

She took another drag from the cigarette, staring out at the city lights, the distant sounds of the party barely reaching them.

Ekko gave a small chuckle before he spoke again. “You know, I meant what I said—about the speech,” he paused. “I could feel you did your best, in your own way.”

Jinx’s gaze flickered briefly to him, her expression unreadable, but her tone seemed softened. “In my experience, ‘best’ usually means it’s not good enough.”

Ekko’s smirk faded slightly. “Maybe. But it counts for something.”

Jinx’s lips twitched in what might’ve been the ghost of a smile. “Guess I’ll take what I can get.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward, but strangely easy. Maybe it was the cigarette—the familiar burn at the back of her throat—or maybe it was the steady presence of an old friend beside her. Whatever it was, it calmed the edges of her fraying nerves, just enough for her to muster the will to turn and face him fully.

She studied him for a moment, the years etched subtly into his face, the same yet different. “What are you doing at the wedding anyway?” She asked, her voice quieter, almost thoughtful.

“Believe it or not, I was invited.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t expect me to believe that you flew across the border just to come to my sister’s wedding because you were invited.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You know, it’s a lot more believable than whatever wild story you’ve cooked up in that head of yours.”

She scoffed, but the edge was gone, replaced by a hint of dry humor. “Sure, and I’m guessing you’re just here to bask in my undeniable charm, right?”

His grin widened. “Exactly. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Jinx flicked her cigarette again, the ember glowing bright in the dark. “Well, lucky for you, I’m a gem of a person to be around.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

For a moment, Jinx was silent, then a laugh escaped her—a real, unguarded chuckle, free of sarcasm or bitterness. It felt strange, like an old habit she hadn’t indulged in a while, but good all the same. She exhaled, her breath steady as the tension in her shoulders eased ever so slightly.

“Guess you’re right,” she admitted, the faintest hint of a smile lingering. “You’re a sucker for punishment.”

“Yep, that’s me—a total glutton,” Ekko replied, his grin widening.

Jinx shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well, I won’t stop you from indulging in your bad habits.”

“You won’t be able to anyhow,” Ekko replied, his voice light at first, but then it shifted, the casual tone replaced by something a little more serious.

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I moved back,” was the simple response.

Jinx’s eyebrow shot up, a flash of surprise crossing her face. “You moved back?”

“Yep, just a couple of days ago.”

Jinx stared at him, incredulous. “You left your cushy job in the States to come back to this shithole after getting out? Are you out of your mind?” Her tone was a mix of disbelief and something darker. “Whatever for?”

An unreadable expression flickered across his face for a moment, but he shrugged it off as if it hadn’t been there at all. “Guess I missed it,” he said, his voice steady, though there was something in his eyes that suggested more than he was letting on.

“Oh yeah? Guess I’m a wizard then.”

Ekko let out a soft chuckle, his gaze dropping for a beat. “Maybe you are,” he replied, his tone joking but tinged with something else. Something she couldn’t quite place. 

For a moment, he looked almost sheepish, like he’d been caught in a moment of vulnerability. But he didn’t elaborate, leaving the weight of his revelation hanging in the air.

Jinx’s eyes narrowed briefly in suspicion but she didn’t push him. “Okay, sure, it’s your life you're ruining,” she muttered, her tone half sarcastic, half resigned.

Ekko seemed to brighten at that, clearly eager to shift away from the subject. He flashed her a quick, almost relieved smile, as if the change in conversation was a welcome escape from whatever he hadn’t wanted to say. 

“Hey, I was thinking,” Ekko began, his voice tentative. “Want to grab a drink? Like aft—”

“Oh, god yes,” Jinx cut him off, her voice the most certain and energetic it had been all night. She quickly stubbed out the cigarette, the ember fading into the night. “Let’s go.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

“Didn’t you mean now?”

“It’s your sister’s wedding.”

“Don’t remind me, blud,” Jinx picked up the lighter she had thrown earlier as she walked past him. “You coming?”

Ekko blinked for a moment, clearly shaken from his brief stupor, then grinned and fell in step beside her. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

—

Jinx’s head pounded, a dull ache reverberating through her skull, and her entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck. She groaned, barely able to lift her hand as she blindly searched for her phone on the nightstand, her face still buried in the blanket. 

When her fingers didn’t meet the familiar edge of the table, but instead something warm—something human—her frown deepened. The realization hit her like a jolt. She shot up, her senses immediately on high alert, her heart racing as she scanned the room.

“Shit,” she murmured under her breath. 

This wasn’t her room, nor her bed. The half-opened boxes scattered across the floor, the smell of new paint, and—most telling of all—the sight of Ekko, fast asleep on the bed. This was his room.

Her eyes widened, panic surging through her. Her mind blanked as she scrambled to recall the events of the night. But she bit her lips when her memory tapes pulled up blanks. 

She groaned internally. She really, really had to quit drinking.

Her gaze darted downward, scanning her own body. A flicker of relief coursed through her as she noticed she was still in her old clothes, but it was fleeting. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. 

Jinx’s eyes swept the room, landing on her phone across the floor. When she finally spotted it on the floor, she carefully slid off the bed, her movements deliberate and quiet. She reached for the phone, her fingers brushing it with a sense of urgency. Letting out a breath, she clutched it in her hand, her heart pounding as she unlocked it to check for any messages.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she repeated, her anxiety spiking as she stared at her phone screen: 10 missed calls, 30 messages.

Her stomach twisted into knots. Her sister was going to be pissed .

“Powder?”

Jinx’s heart nearly stopped. Ekko stirred behind her, the faint rustling of sheets cutting through. She stood motionless, her grip tightening on her phone, as if staying perfectly still would make her invisible.

She slowly turned her head, barely daring to breathe, already knowing what she would see—only to find his figure, tangled in the sheets, still sprawled in a peaceful sleep. He shifted slightly, murmured something unintelligible, then settled back into the steady rhythm of his breathing, his sleep uninterrupted.

She exhaled quietly, the tension in her shoulders barely easing. Steadying her breath, Jinx carefully pushed herself up from the floor.

Her eyes gave one last glance at the sleeping Ekko, his face peaceful in the early morning light leaking through the blinds. At least he gets to have a stress-free morning , she thought bitterly. 

Shaking her head, she turned toward the door. Moving swiftly but cautiously, Jinx slipped out, her footsteps light against the floor. She gripped the doorknob and carefully twisted it shut, making sure it didn’t make a sound as it clicked into place.

Once outside the door, Jinx paused, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the brighter light of the living room. It felt glaring compared to the dim, hazy interior of Ekko’s room. She squinted, running a hand through her hair in a futile attempt to smooth it down.

Despite the bare furniture and boxes scattered throughout the hallway, there was an unsettling familiarity to the space, one she couldn’t quite place. But Jinx shook off the thought, she had bigger concerns right now.

Her eyes scanned the area quickly, searching for her jacket. It didn’t take long to spot it, crumpled on the floor near the exit. She sighed quietly and made her way over, her steps cautious to make any noise.

Grabbing the jacket, she straightened up and shrugged it on. This was it—the last stretch. Jinx held her breath as her hand found the doorknob. She turned it slowly, wincing at the faint creak, but the door clicked shut behind her without incident.

Letting out a long, shaky exhale, she leaned her back against the door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor. 

“Made it,” she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a faint, humorless smile and her heart finally began to settle. 

Her expression quickly changed to a frown as her phone buzzed. She didn’t need to see to know who it was coming from. But she ignored it—at least for now. Her body was too exhausted, and her head pounding too relentlessly.

The fallout could wait. After she got home and caught up on some sleep, maybe then she’d have the energy to face her sister. Her sister was mad anyway. Dealing with mad or madder, it was all the same. At least she’d have some rest. 

Now she just needed to figure out how to get home. She opened her phone, careful not to click any of the notifications. Her fingers swiped to the map app, but when it opened, her frown deepened. Not because she was far away from her apartment or the address was unfamiliar, it was quite the opposite. The problem was that the map showed that she was already home. 

Her heart skipped a beat. She blinked, staring at the screen, unsure whether her mind was playing tricks on her. The map clearly marked her apartment building, and she could vaguely make out the familiar street corners in the digital display. But this couldn’t be right. She was in Ekko’s place, wasn’t she?

Jinx pressed the screen a little harder, just to be sure, but the map didn’t change. The little blue dot pulsed, indicating her exact location.

Then it hit her. She hastily pulled herself up and turned to look at Ekko’s door. Her stomach dropped, the weight of the realization sinking in.

Her mind raced, replaying everything with fresh clarity. She’d been so wrapped up in the mess—the drunken haze, the frantic scramble to leave—that she hadn’t noticed the signs. The bare furniture, the boxes, the oddly familiar layout.

Her eyes darted to the numbers above the doors on Ekko’s and the one right across. 306 on one, 307 on the other.

She swallowed hard. Ekko hadn’t just moved back in town—he’d moved across from her .

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Ekko was nervous. Which was odd, since this wasn’t his wedding—it was his friend’s sister’s wedding. 

His feet tapped nervously under the table, the music in the background barely even registering in his ears. He tried to keep his gaze on the dance floor where the main characters of the night were supposed to be dancing. But his eyes kept darting towards someone else across the room—to Jinx. 

She was sitting by a table near the window, her head was down, and her expression unreadable. She didn’t seem to care about the festivities, as if she was already tuned out, lost in her own world. The people around her were laughing and chatting, but she didn’t seem to be a part of that.

Ekko shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ignore the urge to stand up and go to her. It was a wedding, and this was supposed to be a celebration, not a moment for his old wounds to reopen. But the more he watched her, the more he realized how much things had changed—and how much they hadn’t.

She’d always been the wild card, the one who could make a room feel alive and yet keep everyone at arm’s length. Even now, despite the years, that same aura lingered around her.

“Stop staring,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. But his gaze kept finding its way back to her, like a magnetic pull he couldn’t escape.

“Hey, want a bet?”

Mylo’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Ekko broke his gaze, turning toward his friend who was now leaning over the back of his chair, an amused grin plastered on his face.

Ekko raised an eyebrow. “A bet? About what?”

“That Jinx is gonna muck up the speech.”

“What speech?”

“The maid of honor speech,” Mylo raised an eyebrow. “Did you even look at the program?”

“The reception has a program?”

“This one does,” Mylo shrugged. “Probably her wife’s idea. Can’t imagine Vi being this organized.”

Ekko snorted.

“So—what it’ll be. Disaster or mayhem?”

Ekko hesitated, glancing back at Jinx, still sitting across the room, her attention focused elsewhere but a touch of nervous energy radiating from her. “I don’t know. I have a feeling it’s gonna be fine.”

“What, really?” Mylo’s voice was tinged with disbelief. Ekko could practically feel his friend’s stare burning into his back. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re still pining for her?”

Ekko let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, but he didn’t answer. The silence seemed to be enough of an answer for his friend, however.

“Bro? Really? It’s been five years since you left, man.” 

Ekko shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unwilling to meet Mylo’s gaze. “I’m not pining,” he muttered, but even he wasn’t convinced by the words. “It’s just… complicated.”

Mylo’s eyes softened slightly, but the teasing edge didn’t fade. “Yeah, man. Complicated like that time you tried to punch her highschool ex, right?”

Ekko only groaned, but before Mylo could press further, the announcer’s voice cut through the noise of the reception.

“Now, it is my pleasure to ask Jinx to the stage for the maid of honor speech.”

—

Ekko didn’t know what he was doing here. Standing in front of the balcony door while the rest of the party raged on. The music pulsed in the distance, laughter and chatter floating up from the crowd inside, but here he was, alone, lingering by the exit to the balcony.

His gaze drifted out through the glass door, landing on Jinx. She stood at the edge of the balcony, staring down at the city below, her figure a silhouette against the dimly lit sky. Her stance was casual, but Ekko could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers nervously toyed with the hem of her sleeve.

He groaned inwardly as he paced in front of the door, torn between wanting to leave and wanting to go to her. He couldn’t even muster the courage to step outside. To cross the line, the threshold that separated them from whatever was left of their past. She was the entire reason he even came to the wedding—hell, why he even moved back to the city.

Some would call him crazy. Coming back from a dream job in Silicon Valley for a girl. A girl that didn’t even know he liked her. Even his mind knew it didn’t make sense. Too many restless nights, too many nights haunted by her in his dreams, memories of her laughter, her smile—memories that never quite faded. How could he move on when she was still so alive in his head, even if they hadn’t spoken in years?

He shook his head. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t the same awkward schoolboy she knew back then anymore. He’d grown, matured, and become someone else entirely—someone capable of standing here and doing this. Tonight, he was going to ask her out for a drink if that was the last thing he did. No more chickening out. 

Click, click.

“Ugh!” Jinx’s voice, sharp with frustration, cut through his thoughts.

Ekko looked up, his gaze immediately drawn to the source of the noise. The lighter had hit the floor of the balcony with a faint clink, spinning to a stop near the edge.

He shook himself, pulling the edges of his jacket tighter around him. Now or never. He took one last deep breath before he pushed through the door, and stepped onto the balcony.

—

Ekko’s head was ringing, and he felt the distinct urge to throw up. The remnants of last night’s drinks hung heavy in his stomach, and a dull throb pulsed in his temples. He groaned, forcing his eyes open, only to quickly slam them shut again as the light from the blinds pierced his brain like a needle.

He groaned again, more out of frustration than pain. He had to fix that blind. That blasted thing always let in just enough light to make his mornings worse, especially when his head felt like it was about to split open.

His mind buzzed with the remnants of last night’s events and he shot up from the bed. His eyes flicked around the room. The bed was a mess, sheets twisted, pillows tossed aside. And then, just like that, his heart sank as he noticed the empty space beside him. Jinx was gone.

He frowned, rubbing his face with his hands, trying to piece together the events of the night. He had planned on properly asking her out. But somewhere along the way, it had been too easy to slip into old habits, especially when he had seen how defeated she’d been.

He had always known the sisters were exceptionally close, but he hadn’t realized just how much Vi’s marriage would affect Jinx. The thought of her dealing with that kind of change, without anyone to share the weight of it with, had tightened something in his chest. He imagined her going through all of that, silently, with no one to vent her frustrations to.

It was too easy to slip back into their familiar dynamic. The dependable friend. The silent shoulder to lean on. Offering comfort without ever asking for anything in return. And deep down, he knew that’s what he should be. He couldn’t expect more from her—not after all this time, not without having put himself out there first. It would be unfair. He hadn’t made that move yet.

“Creak.”

The sound of the front door closing broke through his thoughts like a snap of reality. His heart skipped. She’s leaving?

Without thinking, Ekko sprang from the bed, his movements quick and instinctual. He grabbed his jacket from the floor, yanking it on as he hurried across the room. He skidded to a stop in front of the mirror, running a hand through his hair to make sure it was at least halfway presentable. A nervous breath escaped him as he stared at his reflection, his heart pounding.

No time for hesitation.

He turned and rushed to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, or even what he was going to do when he caught up to her, but his mind couldn’t dwell on it long.

“Fuck.”

Ekko froze, blinking as he found himself standing in front of Jinx, who looked like she’d just swallowed something sour. She hadn’t even made it past the hall of the apartment, still standing right in front of his door.

—

Jinx bit her lip, her teeth worrying at the corner as her gaze flickered between Ekko and the floor. Her expression was sheepish, almost guilty, and it only deepened as Ekko stood frozen in the doorway, his brow furrowed in clear confusion.

To say things were awkward was an understatement. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, as if neither of them knew how to break it.

“Uh… morning?” she finally ventured, her voice tentative, a faint, nervous smile tugging at her lips.

Ekko blinked, still processing the sight of her standing there instead of already being halfway down the hallway. “Morning?” he echoed, the word coming out more like a question. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head. “Were you… just standing out here?”

Jinx gave a small shrug, avoiding his gaze. “I was… thinking,” she admitted, her tone hesitant. “About, you know… stuff.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Stuff?”

She nodded quickly, her movements a bit too exaggerated. “Yeah, stuff. Important stuff. Definitely not weird stuff.”

“Now I definitely think you were thinking about weird stuff.”

She chuckled awkwardly, her hands fidgeting with the ends of her jacket. “Why’d you follow me out anyway?” Her tone was light, almost teasing, but the question had an edge of curiosity as she tried to steer the conversation away from herself.

It was Ekko’s turn to falter, his sheepish expression betraying him. His gaze shifted to the floor as he scratched the back of his head—a tell she recognized all too well. He only did that when he was struggling to say something, and for some reason, that little habit always made her stomach flip. It was endearing. Almost cute, even.

Almost.

“I, uh…” Ekko started, his voice trailing off. Jinx could almost see the cogs in his mind turning. “I thought you might’ve forgotten something.”

“Forgotten something?” Jinx repeated, arching an eyebrow. Her skepticism was clear, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, a bit too quickly. “Like… your lighter or something.”

Jinx’s gaze flicked to the lighter in her hand, then back to him. “Right. My lighter.” She let the words hang, a teasing smirk spreading across her lips. “Well, guess I didn’t forget it.”

Ekko let out a small, nervous laugh, rubbing his neck again. “Yeah, guess not.”

Jinx waved Ekko off with a flick of her hand. “If that’s it, you can get back to your beauty sleep. I’ll be on my way now.”

“Can I walk you to your stop?” Ekko offered, his tone hopeful but hesitant.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied, her voice firm but not unkind.

Ekko bit his lip, his expression twisting into something between disappointment and reluctant acceptance. Finally, he sighed, resigned. “Okay. See you later?

Jinx hesitated, her heart sinking a little at the sight of his dejected face. It was the look he always got when something didn’t go his way—the soft, puppy-dog eyes that always made her legs feel like jelly. She let out a low growl, turning toward her door. He was going to find out eventually, anyway.

Fishing for her keys in her jacket pocket, she felt his gaze on her, lingering like a question left unasked. She turned the key, pushing the door open, before spinning back to face him.

“This is why it won’t be necessary,” she said, stepping aside to reveal the small, cluttered apartment beyond the door—her apartment.

Ekko blinked, his confusion giving way to realization. “Wait… You live here?”

“Yep,” Jinx said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Same building. Same floor. Right across. So, no need for a walk, boy savior.”

Ekko stared for a moment, processing, before letting out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Imagine my surprise,” she shot back, her playful gaze locking with his. “Guess the universe just can’t get enough of our charming dynamic.”

Ekko’s laugh softened into a sheepish smile, his hand finding the back of his neck. Before he could think of something to say, Jinx tilted her head toward the open door. “It’s a mess, but… you hungry? Your place looked bare.”

Ekko hesitated, caught off guard. “Uh, sure,” he said finally, scratching the back of his head. “What’s on the menu?”

“Whatever you can find,” Jinx said with a shrug, stepping into her apartment and leaving the door open for him. “Think of it as a scavenger hunt. Breakfast edition. Just like old times.”

He chuckled softly, following her inside. “Guess I can’t say no to that.”

—

Ekko should’ve known that when she said it was going to be “just like old times,” she meant just like old times.

“How are you still alive?” Ekko asked, peering into the fridge. “And you said my house looked bare?”

Jinx shrugged, casually biting into a Twinkie with complete disregard for his judgement. “I’ve got what I need.”

Ekko frowned, pulling out a couple of half-empty cans and a random collection of microwave food. “This should be in the freezer, not the fridge.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she replied nonchalantly, licking a little cream off her lip.

Ekko sighed as he closed the fridge. He turned to face her, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the counter. “That can’t be good hangover food.”

Jinx flashed him a smirk. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

Ekko just rolled his eyes, scanning the rest of the apartment. An assortment of paints, canvases, and unfinished artworks littered the area, with brushes and scattered art supplies strewn around like a tornado had passed through. He shook his head, letting out a low chuckle. “Your place looks like a war zone.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, not the slightest bit bothered. “It’s purposeful chaos, Ekko. It’s an artist’s thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Ekko smirked. “A ‘thing’ that involves tripping over random paint tubes every time you walk in.”

She shrugged, her grin widening. “Keeps life interesting.”

“Your landlord must really love you.” 

“Actually, she does,” Jinx replied, her mouth full as she took another bite of her snack. “She’s my biggest customer.”

Ekko blinked, surprised. “Wow, okay, so people actually buy abstract art?”

Jinx shot him a playful look. “Your ringing endorsement is doing wonders for my self esteem, little man.”

Ekko chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll start working on my art critique skills, then.” He couldn’t help smiling a little at her. It felt like they hadn’t missed a day apart, falling back into their usual rhythm so easily, as though time hadn’t passed at all.

It was familiar, comforting—just like old times.

“Did we, you know…” Jinx hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Maybe, kinda, cross some lines last night?”

Ekko blinked, his eyes widening before a look of horror flashed across his face. “What—no—I would never—”

“Geez,” Jinx cut him off, her voice sharp. “I just thought I’d check, okay?”

“No—I mean—you were drunk, like very drunk.” Ekko stammered, feeling his throat tighten.

Jinx’s lips pressed together, and for a split second, something unreadable flickered in her eyes—a flash of emotion that vanished before he could pinpoint it. She tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping a touch lower. “And if I wasn’t?”

Ekko’s voice caught in his throat, his words faltering as his heartbeat quickened. He stared at her, unsure whether she was joking or if there was something more behind her question. Before he could even try to respond, Jinx’s phone rang, the loud chime cutting through the tension.

She cursed under her breath as she reached for it, standing up from the couch. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

Ekko barely managed a nod as she disappeared behind her door. The sudden emptiness in the room leaving him to ponder the meaning of the question alone. 

—

“What was that?”

Jinx fought the urge to groan. “What was what? Gonna need a little bit more than that, sis.” 

“You know what I mean, Jinx.” 

Jinx leaned back against her bed, and picked at her fingernails. “I did your stupid speech.” 

“Uh-huh, and how do you think it went?” Vi’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“As advertised,” she replied, clearly unbothered.

Vi groaned audibly on the other end of the line.

“Ekko liked it,” Jinx added casually, as if it would diffuse the situation.

“News flash,” Vi shot back, her tone sharp. “Ekko wasn’t the one getting married.”

”Well I did my best for you, sis. I don’t know what more you want.”

Vi let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, fine, it’s my fault for asking. But seriously, where the hell did you run off to?”

“Places,” Jinx said dismissively, twirling a strand of her hair.

“Right. ‘Places.’ That’s helpful,” Vi snapped, her frustration rising. “But the maid of honor can’t just disappear halfway through the night.”

“Who says?” Jinx raised an eyebrow, challenging her sister.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Vi sighed, clearly exasperated. “Do you have any idea how awkward the rest of the evening was? Jayce had all these party games planned for the wedding party. And you just—poof—gone.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone missed me.”

Vi’s voice on the other end of the line dropped an octave. “I missed you, Jinx. You’re my sister. You’ve got a role in this, whether you like it or not.”

Jinx shifted, feeling the sting of Vi’s words more than she wanted to admit. “I didn’t ask for a role,” she muttered, though the words held less bite than they should’ve.

“I didn’t ask for you to pull this stunt either, but here we are.”

Silence stretched between them—a familiar, heavy pause that had hung in the air too often since Vi had moved out, since everything had changed.

Finally, Vi broke it, her tone gentler. “I didn’t call to argue, Jinx. I just… I just wanted to make sure.”

“Sure of what?” Jinx’s voice came out quieter now, almost hesitant. “That I didn’t off myself?”

“I—” Vi stopped herself. When she spoke next her voice was barely above a whisper. “As long as you’re okay.”

Jinx didn’t respond. Her thumb pressed harder into her skin, and when a small bead of blood formed, she barely noticed.

“I have to go now,” Vi said after a moment, a mix of reluctance and resignation in her voice. “But I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Don’t bother, sis.” Jinx’s tone was quieter now, laced with dejection. “Even I know you shouldn’t be doing this the day after the wedding. Go do your honeymoon shit.”

Before Vi could muster a response, Jinx pressed the end call button, letting the phone drop onto the bed beside her.

She buried her face in her hands, exhaling a tired, shaky breath. She knew she was being difficult. She knew her sister deserved this happiness—knew it better than anyone. And yet, the bitterness clawed at her insides, a relentless ache that refused to subside. She felt like she’d been left behind, like a piece of her life had been taken and given away.

She’d told herself it would get better with time. Maybe when they spent more time together, maybe by Vi’s first anniversary with her, or her second. Maybe it would fade once they got married. But deep down, she knew she’d been kidding herself.

It hadn’t gotten better. It never would. 

If anything, it had gotten worse. She felt more bitter, more alone, watching her sister build a new life that didn’t seem to have room for her anymore. The thought settled heavy in her chest, and no matter how much she tried to shake it, it wouldn’t go away.

—

When Ekko saw Jinx next, it was just after 2AM. The fire alarm was blaring through the building, its shrill wail piercing the night. He stepped outside the apartment building, groggy and still in his pajama bottoms, only to find her sitting alone, a little further away from the rest of the tenants huddled together in the parking lot.

Jinx was wrapped in a heavy blanket, her pajama sleeves falling over her hands, looking almost fragile in the dim light. Her wild hair was tangled, and she was staring up at the sky with an unreadable expression, the kind of gaze that suggested she wasn’t really looking at anything at all.

Ekko hesitated, unsure if he should approach. The chaos of the alarm was making everything feel distant, like it was impossible to hear anything above the sound. But Jinx sat so still, so quiet, that it pulled at something in him.

“Jinx?” He called her name softly, stepping toward her.

She turned, slowly, blinking as if she hadn’t realized he was there until now. Her eyes were tired, hollow in a way he wasn’t used to seeing. A faint smirk tugged at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hey, Ekko,” she said, her voice flat, distant.

He stopped a few feet away, glancing back at the others who were chatting nervously in the distance. “You doing okay out here?” he asked, his voice low.

Jinx shrugged, not making any move to leave her spot. “Better than inside,” she said, gesturing at the building with a wave of her hand. “Noise. People. Drama. The usual.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, glancing back at the building. “Any idea where the fire’s from?”

“Of course,” Jinx replied with a flat tone.

Ekko sat next to her. “Oh?”

Jinx’s expression remained unreadable as she spoke, her voice cool and matter-of-fact. “It was my kitchen that burned, so yeah, I know.”

Ekko’s face faltered for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “And how did that happen?”

“I was baking.”

“At 2AM?”

Jinx shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I wanted a cookie.”

Ekko blinked. “When did you learn baking anyway?”

Jinx tilted her head, as if the answer was obvious. “Today.”

“Ah,” Ekko said, processing it. “Well, that explains a lot.” He paused, then added dryly, “Cookies at 2AM. Classic Jinx move.”

“You’re acting like you’re surprised,” Jinx shot him a sideways glance, the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips.

Ekko chuckled softly before turning back to her, his expression softening into something a little more serious. “How bad is the damage?”

“Probably not great,” she shrugged. “House probably smells like burnt toast.”

Ekko’s tone turned thoughtful as he considered the situation. “Your landlord’s really not gonna like this.”

“I can sweet-talk Babbette out of anything.”

Ekko snorted and shot her a playful stare.

“Are you the tenant of 307?”

Both Ekko and Jinx turned to find a fire marshal standing in front of them, his arms crossed and his face showing zero amusement. 

Jinx reluctantly nodded as she looked up. 

The marshal’s stern expression seemed to soften for a brief moment, perhaps mistaking her flat look for a trauma response. Ekko, however, wasn’t about to clarify that misunderstanding.

“The fire is now under control, however, you won’t be able to stay in your apartment for the next while,” the marshal continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’ll be a health hazard. But our job here is done.”

He gave a short nod, turned, and walked off.

Ekko turned to Jinx, his voice low. “Guess that means you’ve got to find somewhere else to crash.”

Jinx faced him with a mischievous grin. “I guess the universe really can’t get enough of our dynamic.”

Ekko blinked, then caught on, groaning. “What—oh.”

Jinx’s grin widened, her voice teasing. “Just like old times?”

Ekko only let out a breath.

Chapter Text

Jinx hadn’t expected to be back in Ekko’s apartment so soon, especially after the way she had stormed out the previous morning. But here she was, standing in his living room with nothing but her bare essentials. Her arms were crossed over a duffel bag, the only remnants of her escape from the chaos of the fire.

She glanced around, trying to act like it was no big deal, but the reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t just about the fire or the mess—it was about the fact that, once again, she was here. With Ekko. 

Temporarily of course, just until her house was sorted again. But a rush of nostalgia hit her unexpectedly, tugging at her chest as she remembered their university days—how they’d spent endless hours together—as friends, as roommates, just like old times.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Ekko said casually, shoving some boxes aside as he cleared space.

Jinx blinked, her brows furrowing. “What? No, it’s your place. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“My home, my rules,” Ekko replied with a shrug, tossing a pillow onto the couch with a flick of his wrist.

Jinx gave him a sidelong look, but there was no hiding the slight grin tugging at her lips. “I see your hero complex is still the same.”

“It does wonders for my ego,” Ekko replied, his smirk widening. “Keeps me humble.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall, the duffel bag still clutched in her hand. “Oh yeah? I’m sure the world is lucky to have you around.”

Ekko’s smile softened slightly, but the teasing glint never left his eyes. “Hey, someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

“Good luck with that, little man. Trouble and I go hand in hand,” Jinx said, a sly grin tugging at her lips as she dramatically gestured to herself. “I present exhibit A.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You just gestured to all of you.”

“Exactly,” Jinx replied, her grin widening.

Ekko rolled his eyes, giving the couch one last pat before flopping onto it. “I’ll keep you in line.”

“You can try your best.”

“Sure,” Ekko waved her off with a lazy gesture as he snuggled deeper into the couch. “But that can start in the morning. Right now I need my beauty sleep.”

“Okay, Sleeping Beauty,” Jinx drawled, her voice light and teasing. She pushed herself off the wall and started heading toward his room. Just before she crossed the threshold, she paused, casting a lingering glance at the boy on the couch. With a small, almost wistful smile, she entered and quietly closed the door behind her.

She walked towards the bed and collapsed onto it, sinking into the softness of the mattress. A smile tugged at her lips as she breathed in the familiar scent of the bed, a comforting mix of laundry detergent and something uniquely Ekko. It was strange, being here again, but in a way that felt oddly like home.

Perhaps it was the softness of the bed or the scent of it, but Jinx felt herself unwinding in a way she hadn’t in a long time. The tension that had built up over the past few years seemed to melt away, at least momentarily, and for the first time in ages, she felt like she might actually have a restful sleep. The chaos of the fire, the fallout with Vi—it all seemed a little further away now. Maybe just for tonight, she could let it all go.

—

Ekko didn’t sleep a wink. His mind kept drifting back to the figure just behind the door, only a few meters away. Even with her on the other side of the wall, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his chest.

He groaned into his pillow, his body too restless to stay still. He knew exactly what he was walking into when he agreed to let her stay. He’d been here before—sleepless, distracted, and tangled up in his thoughts. Jinx had a way of doing that, of worming her way into his mind without even trying.

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his grip tightening on the pillow.

Five years. For five long years, Ekko had tried to move on, to convince himself that he was better off without her. He’d told himself time and time again that he was fine, that he didn’t need to revisit the past, that he was better off letting her go.

Out of sight, out of mind. That had been the plan. Yet here he was, tangled in the same mess of emotions, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. 

The distance between them now seemed so small, yet it might as well have been miles. Every little thing she did—her smile, the way she laughed, how she could effortlessly take up space in his life—space in his heart—still affected him more than he wanted to admit.

His body froze when he heard the door to his room open quietly. Instinctively, he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Every nerve in his body stood on edge as her footsteps—soft and careful—approached. Each step sent a ripple through him, his senses hyper-aware of her presence.

She stopped, standing so close he could almost feel her gaze on him. Time seemed to suspend itself, the stillness pressing down on him as his heart raced wildly in his chest. He fought to keep his breathing steady, terrified she’d notice the way it betrayed him.

Then, unexpectedly, she let out a soft chuckle, the sound light but laced with something he couldn’t quite place. He heard her shift slightly, followed by the faint scratch of a pen on the coffee table behind him. 

It didn’t take long after that for the apartment to grow silent once more. The faint creak of the door, the soft padding of her footsteps down the hall—then nothing. Only the subtle scent of lavender lingered, hanging in the air like a whisper, the last proof she had ever been there.

Ekko finally opened his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before sitting upright. His gaze fell on the paper left on the table next to him. He picked it up, the edges crinkling slightly under his fingers as he read the hastily scribbled message:

Going to work, princess!  

A small smile tugged at his lips as he traced over her messy handwriting. Still the scrawl , he mused. How an artist so effortlessly brilliant at painting could write so poorly was beyond him. The letters leaned this way and that, barely legible, but it was so distinctly her. It was endearing in its disorder, a perfect encapsulation of Jinx’s charm—ironic but sweet—and entirely lovable.

He set the note back down, a soft chuckle escaping him as he rubbed his face with both hands. The quiet irony wasn’t lost on him. One moment he was stuck in the depths of frustration tossing and turning, the next, floating on cloud nine—smiling like a lovestruck idiot—because of something as simple as a scribbled note.

“I really am pathetic,” he muttered to himself again, but the grin lingered all the same.

—

Jinx sat at her desk, an unusual lightness in her demeanor as her fingers traced lazy patterns along the edge of her stylus. It was a stark contrast to the events of the previous night—her apartment fire still fresh in memory. By all accounts, she should have felt drained, maybe even shaken, but instead, a subtle giddiness hummed beneath her skin.

She couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause. Maybe it was the rare, deep sleep she’d gotten. Maybe it was the company that made her feel less alone in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. Whatever it was, it was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time—one that made everything, even the soul-sucking corporate design work in front of her, feel a little less suffocating.

The hum of her workspace was interrupted by the buzz of her phone beside her keyboard. She glanced down, and her eyebrows rose when she saw the name flashing across the screen: Babbette .

Her hand hovered for a moment before picking it up.

She glanced around the open office space before picking up the call, tucking her phone between her shoulder and ear. “Hey, Babbette,” she said, her tone casual.

“Jinx, sweetie,” Babbette’s familiar voice crackled through the line, tinged with concern. “I’ve been meaning to check in after the fire. Are you doing okay?”

Jinx leaned back in her chair, letting the stylus roll between her fingers. “I’m good, Babbette,” she replied. 

There was a pause on the other end, as if Babbette was trying to gauge the sincerity of Jinx’s words. “I’m glad to hear that,” Babbette said, though her tone was still filled with a note of concern. “But with everything that happened, are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Jinx snorted softly. “No, no injuries. Just a lot of smoke and a lot of ruined stuff. But nothing that can’t be replaced.” She shifted slightly in her chair, glancing at the half-finished design on her screen

Babbette’s relief was audible through the phone. “That’s wonderful to hear, Jinx. Really, I’ve been worried about you. But I’ve been meaning to ask, do you have a place to stay for now? I know things are a bit… unsettled at the moment, and with the fire damage, I’m sure it’s not the most comfortable situation.”

Jinx paused, a slight glimmer of contentment in her eyes. “Oh, I’ve got somewhere to stay,” she said lightly, her voice dropping to a quieter, more relaxed tone. “Already got the perfect place, actually.”

Babbette, though relieved, still sounded a little apologetic. “Well, if you need any help, or if you want to stay somewhere a bit more permanent while the apartment gets sorted out, just let me know. I can always help with finding something else for you. It’s the least I can do for Vander’s girls.”

Jinx felt her stomach drop a little at that but she pushed it away. “Thanks, but I think I’m good. Really. Got everything I need right now.” 

“Well, that’s wonderful to hear,” Babbette said, though her tone grew a bit hesitant. “I’ve been thinking that since the place needs repairs anyway, I might as well go ahead with the remodeling I’ve been putting off. What do you say?”

She felt her lips tug into a slight smile at it. “That sounds like a perfect idea.” 

“Really?”

“I’ve got the perfect setup,” Jinx assured her, glancing at the faint smudge of ink still on her palm—a lingering reminder of the hasty note she’d left that morning. “I’m good, Babbette. Promise.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Babbette trailed off, her relief evident even over the line. “Alright, darling. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Always do,” Jinx said, her voice light as she ended the call. 

Jinx smirked to herself as she picked up the stylus again, tapping it gently against the desk. She hadn’t technically gotten Ekko’s permission to stay that long, but she knew him too well. He’d never actually refuse her, no matter how much he might act like he would. It was one of those things about him—how he’d pretend to put up walls, but when it really came down to it, he’d always let her in. Ever the boy savior. 

—

Ekko was deep in the rhythm of cooking, the sizzle of food on the stove blending with the soft hum of music in the background when the doorbell rang. His hands, still wet from washing dishes, quickly swiped over his apron as he made his way to the door. He paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at the oven, before swinging open the door.

Ekko wasn’t expecting anyone, so when the doorbell rang, he already knew who it was. He opened the door, and there she was—Jinx, standing with that unmistakable mischievous grin of hers, her eyes dancing with the same chaotic energy he’d come to know all too well.

“Guess who’s back?” she said with a flourish, a crossbody bag slung casually over one shoulder as if she owned the place.

Ekko rolled his eyes but stepped aside, letting her in without a word. She breezed past him, her usual dramatic flair in full effect.

She paused in the doorway, took a deep, exaggerated sniff of the air, then turned back to him with a grin that could only be described as smug. “Ah, oven baked mac and cheese, my favorite,” she declared, as if the scent alone was some kind of victory.

Ekko shot her a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “You really don’t waste any time, do you?” he muttered, but there was a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Oh shush, I know you made this on purpose.” 

“Think what you want,” Ekko said with a casual shrug, trudging toward the kitchen. “Set the table if you want to eat.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with mock disgust. “Wow, when’d you start setting tables, space boy?” She placed a hand over her chest, feigning shock. 

“Since I stopped living with a gremlin,” Ekko answered while pulling the mac & cheese from the oven. “Better move quickly, before it’s all gone,” he said, sliding the dish onto the trivet on the counter.

Jinx stuck out her tongue in playful defiance. “Fine,” she muttered, but she was already moving toward the kitchen, opening each cabinet to find the plates. She glanced back at him, her grin never fading. “I’ll let you live this time, but don’t get used to it.”

“My house, my rules,” Ekko said without even glancing her way, sprinkling a little chili powder on top of the dish with a satisfied look.

Jinx made a dramatic, exaggerated nod when she finally found the plates, bringing them over to the counter next to the mac and cheese. She set them down with an air of accomplishment, then shot Ekko a sideways glance. “There, I did it.”

Ekko gave her a quick look, placing the chili powder down before grabbing a plate. He scooped a generous serving of the mac and cheese, handing it to her with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Now, eat.”

Jinx didn’t need to be told twice. With a playful grin, she took the plate from him and practically skipped to the kitchen table, sitting down with a flourish. She dug in quicker than Ekko had expected, especially with the warmth of the dish. But she seemed none too bothered.

Ekko followed her, a plateful in his hand, pulling up a chair across from her. He watched her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well?” 

“Exactly as I remember,” Jinx said between spoonfuls. 

Ekko chuckled softly, taking a bite of his own. “Glad to know I haven’t lost my touch.” He leaned back in his chair, watching her, his gaze steady but casual. “How was work?”

Jinx’s fork paused midair as she considered the question, then shrugged. “Same old. Boring, bland, hopeless.”

“And you’re doing that job because?”

Jinx shrugged. “Get’s food on the table.”

Ekko’s gaze lingered on her, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “You mean Twinkies on the table.”

Jinx grinned, unbothered. “Same thing.”

Ekko shook his head, but there was an amused glint in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I don’t have any Twinkies.”

Jinx’s smile widened as she casually reached into her bag beside her and pulled out a small package. “It’s okay, I packed.”

Ekko blinked. “You had the mind to pack Twinkies from your burned down house?”

“Don’t shame a girl for her emotional crutches,” Jinx said with mock indignation.

Ekko shook his head, exasperated. “You’re hopeless.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Jinx said, taking another spoonful, utterly unbothered.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Ekko muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say, boss.”

Ekko couldn’t help but chuckle, a smile spreading across his face despite himself. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Love you too, buddy,” Jinx said casually, her voice light, the joking tone obvious but words still made Ekko’s spoon falter. He froze for just a second, his heart skipping a beat before he quickly shook it off, trying to regain his composure.

“Right,” he muttered, forcing a casual smile.

If Jinx noticed his flicker of emotion, she didn’t show it. Instead, she dove into the next subject with her usual energy. “Sooo, I had a call with my landlord.”

Ekko swallowed, leaning back in his chair. “Oh? That sounds… fun.”

Jinx grinned, her tone turning more playful. “Yeah, fun’s one way to put it. She was all concerned about me after the fire. You know the typical landlord stuff.”

“Yeah, so very typical.”

Jinx shrugged nonchalantly, twirling her fork around in her pasta. “She wanted to make sure I had a place to stay, and all that. Said she was remodeling the place while I’m gone, so…”

Ekko raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Jinx hesitated for a moment, her grin widening, before she leaned forward. “I was thinking, that maybe I, you know…”

“Stay here,” Ekko finished for her, his face deadpanned.

Jinx’s grin didn’t waver, and she leaned even further forward. “Well, you’re not exactly going to kick me out, are you?”

Ekko sighed, but there was no real frustration in it, just a weary acceptance. “I’m not kicking you out, but you could at least ask first.”

“Ask? Pfft, who has time for that?” Jinx threw her arms dramatically as she leaned back on the chair. “Besides, I figured it’s the least I could do after, you know, saving you from yourself with my impeccable company.”

“Right,” Ekko said dryly, his lips curving up just slightly. “You’re saving me.”

“Exactly,” Jinx agreed, then paused. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made it clear he wasn’t really bothered. “I’ll make sure to buy you more Twinkies then.”

“Now that’s the least you can do,” Jinx quipped, diving back into her mac and cheese.

—

Jinx leaned back on the couch, watching Ekko quietly do the dishes. The soft sound of water running, the clink of plates, and the low hum of music filled the air, a strange sense of tranquility settling in around her. 

She let out a content sigh, and for a moment, she let herself savor it. Just a few days ago, her body had felt heavy, like every movement was a struggle. Her heart had been in her throat, a gnawing anxiety that wouldn’t let her breathe properly. But now? Now, she felt… at ease. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

But despite all that, a tiny flicker of guilt nudged at her—just a teeny tiny bit. It was his house after all and it had been years since they had been roommates. Half a decade at this point. Maybe she was pushing him too much. Maybe she was already overstaying her welcome.

After all, she was here , and he hadn’t kicked her out yet.

Her fingers twirled a lock of her hair absentmindedly, her gaze drifting back to Ekko as he finished rinsing the last of the dishes. There was something in the way he moved, quiet and unbothered, that kept her attention. It was almost hypnotic—the rhythm of his actions, the soft splashing of water as he scrubbed and rinsed, the gentle clinking of the plates against the sink. She let herself watch him a little longer than she should’ve, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

But then, as if sensing her gaze, Ekko turned slightly, and she quickly looked away, her heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the guilt still quietly gnawing at her. She cleared her throat, suddenly focusing intently on the couch cushion next to her. “What?” she asked, her voice a little higher than usual, trying to cover up her slip-up.

“I’ll clean up the other room and get a bed set up for you soon,” Ekko said, his voice calm and steady as he dried off the last plate, not giving any indication that he’d noticed her sudden shift.

Jinx’s pulse was still a little quicker than normal, but she tried to brush it off. “We could bring my bed,” she said, trying to sound casual,

Ekko paused for a second, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Your bed? I suppose that could work.”

“Yeah,” Jinx shrugged, turning back to him, heart under control again. “I mean, it’s not like it’s going anywhere. And it’s kinda comfy.”

“Okay, sure,” Ekko replied with a nod, his tone casual. “Let me just quickly make some space in the room.”

—

Ekko’s face contorted as he took in the state of the kitchen, his brows furrowing deeply. The sight of the burned counters and scorched appliances was unsettling, but it wasn’t what had his feet glued to the floor. What truly made his stomach drop were the items scattered across the dining table—well, what was left of it, anyway.

Among the charred remnants of flour, sugar bags and other spices was something that hadn't been there before when he was here: a collection of medications, their bottles haphazardly piled next to the wreckage. The labels were faintly singed but readable, and one in particular caught his eye—Prozac.

His eyes narrowed, his chest tightening with a mix of concern and confusion. The casualness with which they were left there, unguarded and visible, made his gut twist in a way that wasn’t just from the fire damage.

Ekko’s pulse quickened as he stepped closer, his fingers hovering just above the open bottles, but he stopped short of touching them. His gaze lingered on the assortment of medication, searching for an explanation he wasn’t sure he wanted to uncover.

But before he could let himself spiral further into his thoughts, Jinx’s voice from her room cut through the silence, pulling him back to the present.

“Are you helping me with the bed or not, space boy?”

He snapped out of his momentary hesitation, shaking his head as he turned toward the room, pushing the nagging feeling aside.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his heart still beating a little quicker. “I’m coming.”

As he walked toward her room, his mind kept circling back to the sight on the table—the painkillers, the careless way they had been left there like nothing mattered. 

Ekko shook his head, trying to refocus. He’d deal with it later. When he could talk to her—when she was ready to talk.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he called back with a teasing grin, though the edge of concern still lingered in his voice.

He found her in the middle of clearing a corner of the room, shifting some scattered clothes and random objects. Her back was to him, and she didn’t notice his approach immediately. He stood in the doorway for a second, watching her with a frown before pulling it into something closer to neutral.

“Am I helping ? Or are you gonna make me do all the work again?” he asked, his tone as light as he could make it.

Jinx finally turned to face him, a goofy grin plastered on her face. 

Ekko’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, the goofy grin on her face drawing a faint smile to his lips—but it felt different this time, like something was out of place. He quickly masked the shift in his expression, making a show of wiping his hands on his jeans and leaning against the doorframe.

Jinx didn’t seem to notice, her grin widening as she bounced on her heels, obviously not bothered by his tone. “Oh, trust me, space boy, you’re definitely doing the heavy lifting this time.” She waved a hand with mock authority before spinning back toward her cluttered corner, dramatically shoving things aside to clear enough space to start disassembling the bed.

Ekko shook his head with a soft chuckle, stepping into the room. “Yeah, I figured,” he said, the warmth in his voice hiding the faint weight lingering in his chest. He watched her for a beat longer before moving to help, grabbing a pile of clothes she had haphazardly pushed aside.

“You’ve got a real talent for creating a mess, you know that?” he teased, nudging a stack of books out of the way with his foot.

“Gotta stay true to myself,” Jinx quipped over her shoulder, glancing at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

He didn’t reply, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand. He’d figure it out. Later. For now, he’d just be there, next to her, just like old times .

Chapter Text

Ekko groaned as the alarm blared obnoxiously from the nightstand. His hand shot out, instinctively slapping the snooze button, but the noise persisted, dragging him further from sleep. With a frustrated sigh, he pushed himself upright, squinting against the leaking blind again.

7AM wasn’t his usual wake-up time, especially after another rough night, but he wasn’t about to stay in bed while Jinx left for work. Not after what he had seen the night before. His mind replayed the image of the medication carelessly left on the kitchen table, and the knot in his stomach tightened. 

Rubbing his eyes, Ekko forced himself to shake off the grogginess, the weight in his chest settling heavier with every passing moment. He needed to clear his head. Stepping into the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it biting through the fog. His reflection stared back at him—bloodshot eyes, a restless mind etched across his face—but beneath the exhaustion, there was resolve.

He could catch up on sleep later, if it came to that

Shaking his head as if to clear the fog, he grabbed a towel to dry his face. His movements were quick, mechanical, as he dressed. With practiced steps, he made his way to the kitchen and put on his apron.

He got the coffee brewing before turning his focus to the rest of the kitchen. The familiar rhythm of his routine helped steady his mind. He moved through the space with calm efficiency, pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry without thinking, his hands already knowing what needed to be done. There was comfort in it—the simplicity of creating something with his hands. It gave him something to focus on, something he could control—like making sure Jinx had something to eat before she left for work.

Cracking two eggs into a bowl, he added milk, flour, sugar, salt, cinnamon, and vanilla. The soft hiss of the egg yolks breaking and blending into the mix was soothing, the motion of his whisking steady and rhythmic. Each turn of the whisk seemed to loosen the knot in his chest, if only a little. He wasn’t sure if it was the task itself or the quiet, but he felt the tension slowly easing away.

Once satisfied, he placed the bowl down and reached for a couple of brioche buns from the pantry. He sliced them into thick, even pieces, the knife gliding through the soft bread with ease. Dunking each piece into the batter, he watched the bread soak up the mixture, the edges softening as it absorbed the liquid.

He set a pan on the stove, turning the heat up, and waited. As the pan warmed, he sliced a bit of butter onto it, the sizzle greeting him like an old friend. Gently, he laid the soaked bread pieces onto the surface, the edges beginning to crisp as they fried.

It wasn’t more than a minute before the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, and Jinx’s bright blue hair popped into the kitchen.

“Ohh, French toast,” Jinx said, her voice still thick with sleep but laced with excitement. “What a treat.”

“Good morning to you too,” Ekko replied, not looking up from the pan. The bread sizzled gently as it crisped.

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on him. “What’s the occasion?”

Ekko shrugged. “I said I’d keep you in line.”

“I’d hardly say French toast does that,” Jinx said, he could hear the smile in her voice. “More like you’re trying to fatten me up to eat me.”

Ekko glanced at her, amusement flashing in his eyes before he refocused on the bread. “Yep, you got me. I’m just trying to Hansel and Gretel you.”

“Ah ha! Caught you red-handed!” Jinx declared triumphantly, her grin wide.

Ekko gave a mock frown as he slid the toast onto a plate, shaking his head. “And now this delicious piece of toast will go to waste.”

Jinx gave him a dramatic look. “Fear not, little witch, for I will fall for your plan, willingly.” She grabbed the plate from in front of her with a wink.

Ekko felt his stomach flip at the gesture, a warmth creeping to his face that he quickly dismissed. Instead, he focused on plating his own serving. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he knew better than to skip out. If he didn’t eat with her, she’d definitely get suspicious—and that was the last thing he needed this morning.

“Sleep well?” he asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

“Like a baby,” Jinx replied, her voice light as she grabbed the syrup. Ekko watched in muted horror as she drowned the toast in a veritable flood of sticky sweetness, but he bit back any comment.

“Babies don’t actually sleep well, you know,” he said instead, reaching for the syrup on his side of the table and pouring a restrained drizzle over his toast.

“And how would you know that?” Jinx raised an eyebrow, her fork pausing mid-air. “You got some secret baby stashed away somewhere, mister? Is that why you look so tired?”

Ekko shrugged, briefly flinching at her, noticing his tiredness. “Coworker struggled with it back at my old job.”

“Ah, so you’re an expert now,” she teased, smirking as she pointed her fork at him.

“Hardly,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just a guy who listens.”

“Are you implying something?” Her eyes narrowed, but her tone stayed light, playful.

“Am I?” he countered, raising an eyebrow as he took a deliberate bite of his toast.

Jinx huffed dramatically, stabbing another piece of her toast with her fork before popping it into her mouth. “Fine. I’ll forgive you—but only because of breakfast.”

“Ever the gracious one,” Ekko quipped, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yep, that’s me. Practically a saint,” Jinx said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “You’re lucky to have me gracing your humble kitchen.”

Ekko rolled his eyes before he briefly looked up from his plate. “Did you tell your sister you burned your kitchen down?”

Jinx’s fork momentarily faltered, but she was quick to mask it as she stabbed another piece of toast, perhaps with more force than necessary. “She’s on her honeymoon, doing honeymoon shit,” Jinx responded, her voice carrying a touch of annoyance. “Besides, she'll get all worried and up my ass about it.”

“So, that’s a no,” Ekko remarked dryly.

Jinx waved him off lazily, taking another bite of her breakfast. “I’ll get to it eventually.”

Ekko opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Jinx’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down, her expression flickering for just a moment, a frown tugging at her lips. She quickly picked up her plate and practically swallowed the last of her toast, as if to rush through the moment.

“I gotta run now,” she said, setting the plate aside. “Duty calls.”

“Just a second,” Ekko replied, his voice steady as he moved toward the kitchen. He poured the freshly brewed coffee into a tumbler, adding a generous splash of creamer and sugar, the sweet smell filling the air. He made his way back to the table and handed it to her. “Take this,” he said, his eyes meeting hers for a moment. “I know you’ll need it—just don’t lose it this time.”

Jinx snorted, taking the tumbler with a playful roll of her eyes. “I don’t lose all my tumblers,” she teased, her lips curling into a grin. “Just the ones you really care about.”

“Well, try your best.”

“Fine,” Jinx said as she hastily put on her shoes. “But no promises.”

“Hey,” Ekko started as she rushed to open the door. She turned her head towards him, and for a moment he felt the words die in his throat. But he pushed through, his voice softer. “You know I’m always here for you? For anything.”

Jinx’s brows furrowed, confusion flashing across her face. But her phone buzzed again, cutting the moment short. She glanced at it before quickly nodding, the gesture more automatic than anything. She pulled the door open, her expression unreadable for just a moment before she turned to leave.

Ekko stood frozen in the doorway, watching her go, a strange ache in his chest. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut that he let out a slow breath, his words lingering in the empty space between them.

—

Ekko sat slouched on the couch, his gaze locked onto the screen in front of him. His fingers moved almost mechanically, lazily clicking through job listings on the screen. Every now and then, he would half-heartedly tweak a resume or add a few lines to an application, but his mind wasn’t on the task. His thoughts were miles away, consumed with worries about her.

His mind kept returning to the bottle of Prozac, the image of it still fresh in his memory. He knew what it was, what it meant, and his chest tightened at the thought. 

Had she always needed it? Had she been taking it even when they were younger, when everything had seemed so much simpler? His heart sank as guilt gnawed at him. If she had, then that meant he’d had left her to carry that burden alone. He’d never noticed, never understood the signs, and now it felt like he’d failed her in the worst way possible.

He couldn’t help but wonder—if he had known, would he have stayed? Would things have been different? 

He shook his head, trying to shake off the weight of his thoughts. A deep breath filled his chest as he exhaled slowly, attempting to push the guilt aside. He shouldn’t dwell on what was. He couldn’t. He needed to focus on the present, on what he could do now, not what he should’ve done before.

His lips pressed together as he thought about her, his own pain and frustration suddenly feeling small, almost insignificant compared to what she might be going through. But he had no real understanding of her struggles—only fragments, hints of something bigger than he could grasp.

Running a hand through his hair, he slouched back against the couch, his head resting against the top of it. His eyes drifted toward the ceiling, the weight of the uncertainty pressing on him like a heavy fog. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t have the answers—didn’t even know where to start. He just wished he had someone to ask…

Suddenly, his eyes widened. The realization hit him, and without thinking, he shot upright. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and scrolled quickly through his contacts. When he found the name he was looking for, he clicked it without hesitation, lifting the phone to his ear.

He bit his lip, head bobbing ever so slightly with each passing second. When the familiar click of the call being answered echoed in his ear, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Hello?” Ekko asked, a little nervous.

“Ekko?” The voice on the other end was warm, with a hint of surprise. “I heard you were back.”

“Are you busy, Sky?”

“You caught me on my lunch break,” she replied, her tone light and casual. “But I do have a client in half an hour. Why do you ask?”

Ekko shifted, trying to find the right words. “I, uh… I need some advice. It’s about someone—well, something—complicated.”

“That’s never a good thing,” Sky remarked.

Ekko took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing. “How do I help someone who is presumably suffering from depression?”

“Presumably?” Sky’s voice took on a more serious tone, the shift clear even through the phone.

Ekko swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment. “I found a bottle of Prozac in my friend’s house—well, the remnants of it anyway.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, a slight hesitation before Sky responded. “That’s… that’s significant, Ekko. But just finding medication doesn’t mean you know the whole picture. It’s a lot to assume.” Sky paused briefly. ”Besides, I can't do what I think you’re asking. I cannot do anything unless they are sitting in front of me in my office. You know that. It will be highly unprofessional, not to mention unethical.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers dragging through the strands as if searching for clarity. Frustration edged into his voice, raw and unguarded. “I know, but it feels like a sign, you know? Like I should do something… like I have to do something.” His words faltered for a moment, his tone softening as he stared at the ground. “I just don’t know what.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, his unspoken fears lingering in the air. “I want to help,” he added, quieter this time, almost to himself. “But I just… don’t know how.” His free hand fell to his sides, curling briefly into a fist before relaxing again, as though his own uncertainty was something he wanted to fight but couldn’t.

Sky’s voice softened, but there was a firm edge to it. “You can’t force someone to get help, Ekko. But you can be there. Ask them how they are doing, what they did that day, and just listen. Sometimes, just being there and letting them talk—that’s the most powerful thing you can do. But don’t push them, not until they’re ready. Let them take the lead.”

Ekko let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch as he processed her words. He could feel the weight of it all pressing down on him, the uncertainty of how to handle something so delicate. “And if she’s not ready to talk?”

“There’s only so much you can do,” Sky replied, her voice gentle but unwavering. “If she’s not ready, pushing won’t help. But letting her know you’re there—that you’re not going anywhere—can make all the difference in the world. Be patient, Ekko. She’ll come to you if and when she’s ready. Just be someone she can trust.”

Ekko nodded, though Sky couldn’t see him. “I just…I don’t want to make things worse.”

“You’re not going to make things worse by being there for her. But you need to take care of yourself too. You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

Ekko didn’t respond immediately, letting the weight of her words settle over him. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the knot in his chest tighten.

After a moment, Sky exhaled softly, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. “Ekko, listen to me. The worst thing you could do is try to save her. You’re not some superhero who can blow her problems away in one grand gesture. It doesn’t work like that.” She paused, her tone softening into something more heartfelt. “Just be you, Ekko. Trust me when I say this—whoever this friend of yours is, if you just show up as the Ekko I knew, without all that pressure, she’ll eventually open up. You’ll do great. Just be there, as much as you can. It’ll make a difference.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable, as Ekko mulled over her words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Sky echoed, her voice steady yet warm. “And if you can, try gently encouraging her to seek professional help—if she isn’t already. But seeing the medication, she might already be seeing someone. Or at least she has in the past, and that’s a good sign.”

“Yeah,” Ekko murmured, the knot in his chest loosening ever so slightly.

“You’ve got this,” Sky added, her voice carrying a soft strength. “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too, alright?”

“I’ll try,” Ekko said, though the weight of responsibility still lingered in his voice.

Sky chuckled lightly, a small warmth cutting through the seriousness. “Trying’s a good start. For both of you.”

Ekko’s mind buzzed with new thoughts, but there was a clarity there now. “Thanks, Sky. I owe you one. I’ll buy you dinner sometime.”

“You better,” she teased lightly. “You’ve got this.”

“Okay, catch you later,” Ekko said, his voice quiet but relieved.

“Yeah, see you,” Sky replied, her tone lighter now. “Welcome back, Ekko.”

The line went dead, and Ekko sat in the quiet for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling in. His thoughts, though still muddled, now carried a clearer direction. He let his arm fall loosely to the couch, staring at the laptop still open in front of him. He didn’t have all the answers, but something had shifted.

With a deep breath, he stood up and shook off the lingering uncertainty. He pulled on his jacket, the fabric feeling heavier than usual, but in a grounding way. With steady steps, he walked out the door, his resolve firming with each movement.

—

“No old friend discount?” Ekko asked, his tone hopeful. 

Claggor blinked, staring at him for a moment as if the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind. He scratched the back of his head, looking perplexed.

“Old friend discount?” he repeated, his voice a mix of amusement and confusion. “Is that how this works now? You know, I’m pretty sure you owe me a discount for all the trouble you’ve caused me over the years.”

Ekko’s grin only widened, leaning in a bit closer. “Come on, Claggor. You can’t tell me all those years of friendship don’t count for something. What’s the point of owning the place if you can’t help out your friends once in a while?”

Claggor raised an eyebrow, clearly unphased. “Business is business,” he said with a shrug, before pretending to weigh the request seriously. He sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. You get the ‘Ekko special.’ You pay full price, but I won’t charge you for the extra hassle.”

Ekko laughed, shrugging as if he hadn’t expected anything more. “Fair enough.”

Claggor flashed a wide grin, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “It’s good to have you back, Ekko,” he said, turning toward the desk and pulling out a stack of papers for him to sign. As he passed them over with a pen, he leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “And just between us? The discount’s already built in.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You’re a big softy, Claggor. I knew it.”

Claggor just smirked, his tone light. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. Now, go on, sign those papers before I change my mind about that discount.”

“On it, boss,” Ekko replied, his voice light as he took the pen and began signing the papers.

Claggor leaned against the counter, eyeing Ekko with a hint of curiosity. “Why the sudden rush to buy a car anyway?”

Ekko’s hand faltered for a moment as he paused mid-signature. His eyes darted up to meet Claggor’s, the question landing heavier than expected. He quickly recovered, shaking his head slightly as he continued writing. “No particular reason,” he muttered, though the edge of uncertainty in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

Claggor raised an eyebrow, his grin widening ever so slightly. “Uh-huh. You sure about that?”

Ekko glanced up again, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m sure. Just… figured it was time to stop relying on the bus.”

Claggor chuckled, clearly not convinced. “In my experience as a used car salesman, there are only two reasons people rush to buy a car.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “And what are those?”

Claggor leaned in a bit, his voice taking on a mock-serious tone. “For work or…” He paused dramatically, letting the tension build, “for love.”

Ekko froze, his hand hovering over the papers as the pen slipped from his fingers. “What—?”

Claggor burst out laughing at Ekko’s stunned expression. “Wow, didn’t think you’d react like that. That was all bullshit, by the way. I was like just messing with you.”

Ekko could feel his face warm a little. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Sure, sure,” Claggor wiped a tear from his eye as he continued to laugh. “But hey, if it was for love, you know where to find me when things get complicated.”

Ekko rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He shifted his attention back to the papers, his grip on the pen tightening as he resumed signing. This was a bold investment, even he knew that. It wasn’t that he lacked the money—in fact, he had been frugal in the States, and so his savings had accumulated far more than he ever expected. Still, from a logical standpoint, this was a bit out there. It didn’t make sense. But no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, he couldn’t shake Sky’s words.

“Just be there, as much as you can.”

He let out a quiet sigh as he signed the final paper, setting the pen down with a sense of resolve. That was the least he could do.

Chapter Text

Jinx stood there, a little flabbergasted as her gaze fixed on the table. At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, her groggy, half-awake mind conjuring up hallucinations of the breakfast she was currently craving. Bacon, waffles, scrambled eggs—the full package.

The smell however was unmistakable. Warm, savory, sweet—it was real. Her stomach growled in response, and she blinked a few times, trying to reconcile the sight with reality.

“You’re awake,” a voice said from the kitchen, casual but unmistakably proud.

“Okay what is going on here, mister,” she asked, her voice trying to mask her anticipation with suspicion. “You trying to spoil me or something.”

Ekko only shrugged as he took out milk from the fridge before pouring it into the two cups set on the table. 

Jinx crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Ekko said, as he took the seat further away from her. “Just eat before it gets cold.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before the smell won her over. “Alright,” she said, sliding into the other chair. “But if this is some elaborate trick, I’m keeping the waffles.”

“By all means.”

Jinx eyed him for another second before grabbing a waffle. She piled on a generous amount of whipped cream and drizzled maple syrup over the top until it was practically glistening. Picking up her fork, she cut off a small piece and took a careful bite, her expression unreadable.

The moment the flavors hit her tongue, her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked it with a casual shrug. “Not bad,” she said, though the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Guess you didn’t burn down the kitchen making this.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Might I remind you, you were the one who burned your kitchen. Not me.”

Jinx waved her fork dismissively. “Same difference.”

 “Of course, you’d say that,” he let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes.

She didn’t respond, her focus shifting entirely to the plate in front of her. For a moment, the room was filled only with the quiet clink of cutlery and the faint hum of the fridge. Then, she heard it—a soft sound, almost hesitant. Ekko clearing his throat.

Her fork paused mid-air as she glanced up, narrowing her eyes slightly but waiting for him to speak.

“I was thinking,” he began, his voice cautious. He cleared his throat again, his expression tightening like he was fighting with himself. “Did you, uh… want a ride to work today?”

Jinx blinked, leaning back in her chair as her fork hit the plate with a soft clatter. “A ride?” she echoed, her tone laced with suspicion. “Since when did you have a car?”

“Since yesterday, actually,” Ekko admitted, his voice casual but his gaze darting briefly to her for a reaction.

“What made you decide to do that?” Her brow furrowed, her gaze narrowing.

“I’ve been thinking about it since I came back.” 

“Uh huh, and you suddenly decided yesterday,” she deadpanned.

Ekko shrugged, as nonchalant as if he’d just picked up a pack of gum. “Claggor’s shop had a good deal.”

She held his gaze, trying to read something deeper in his calm demeanor. He didn’t flinch, and didn't offer any more explanation. It was almost infuriating how easy he made it seem, like buying a car was the most mundane decision in the world. Finally, she relented with a small shake of her head.

“Fine,” she muttered, leaning back further and crossing her arms. “You get a car for whatever reason. And now what? You’ve decided to moonlight as my chauffeur?”

“Seeing I'm still jobless, I thought I’d make myself useful.” He paused, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“You’re really in too deep, Ekko,” Jinx shook her head, an amused smirk playing at her lips. “That savior complex of yours is starting to balloon.”

“Are you refusing?”

Jinx met his gaze with a playful glint in her eyes. “Did I say I was?” She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping a touch of mock sweetness. “Like I said, I won’t stop you from indulging in your bad habits. I’m only too pleased to abuse that nature of yours.”

—-

Ekko’s eyes remained focused on the road, his grip tight on the wheel as Jinx hummed along to the music filling the car. The hum of the engine and the endless sea of cars in the morning traffic grated on his nerves a little, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he didn’t regret it for a second.

He got to stay by her after all, each passing second more valuable than the last. Being here, being there for her—it was what mattered. No matter how frustrating the traffic was, it was worth it.

Glancing over at her, Ekko couldn’t help but smile, his lips curling slightly as he spoke. “Got any big plans next weekend?”

Jinx didn’t turn away from the window, her fingers tapping lightly on her knee as she swayed to the beat of the song. “I don’t know…rob a couple banks, start a few fires, you know the usual.”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “Right, the usual… You ever think about taking up a less dangerous hobby?”

Jinx turned to face him, putting on an exaggerated look of mock hurt. “Are you criticizing my hobbies right now?”

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite smother the grin forming on his lips. “I’m just saying, maybe a little less arson could be a good thing. Seeing, you know, where that led you.”

Jinx huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her seat. “Like you’ve never started a couple of fires before,” she shot back, her tone teasing but sharp.

“Okay, first of all, that wasn’t my fault,” Ekko muttered, stealing a quick glance her way. “If you remember, it was you—”

“Oh, hush,” she cut him off with a smirk, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Excuses aren’t a good look on you.”

“Whatever,” Ekko breathed, his voice laced with mock exasperation.

Jinx turned her gaze back to the window, but not before a satisfied smirk curled her lips. “Why do you ask, anyway? What, you planning on giving me a lecture on fire safety, or…” Her smirk grew, and she shot him a sidelong glance. “…you asking me out on a date, little man?”

Ekko’s cheeks warmed slightly, but he quickly brushed it off, his voice steady as he spoke. “I was wondering if you wanted to go up to Sunshine Coast with me.”

“Sunshine Coast?” Jinx repeated, her tone doubtful.

“Yeah,” Ekko paused as he made a left turn. “I have an old friend who lives there in Sechelt with his wife. He’s been wanting me to come by for a while.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “And you want me to come with you to that?”

Ekko hesitated for a moment, glancing out at the road. “I mean, why not? It could be a good time. And I thought it’d be fun to have some company. You know, just a change of scenery. Good for the body and soul.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re trying to rope me into one of your wellness retreats aren’t you?”

“Those are just called vacations.” 

Ekko could feel Jinx’s gaze lingering on him, but he didn’t dare meet it, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove.

After a long moment of silence, Jinx sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “What the hell, sure.”

“Sure?” Ekko repeated, glancing at her with a raised brow.

“Sure. Sounds like an adventure,” Jinx smirked, crossing her arms as she settled back into her seat. Despite the skepticism still lingering in her eyes, there was an unmistakable spark of excitement, and Ekko couldn’t help but smile at it.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” he said, his voice light with enthusiasm.

“It better be,” Jinx said with a serious tone, but there was a glint of playfulness. 

“Pinky promise.”

Jinx nodded, her expression softening slightly, before she pointed to a spot outside the window. “You can let me off here.”

Ekko steered the car toward the curb, turning on the emergency lights with a small flourish and shifted the car into park. “There we go.”

Jinx shifted in her seat, her movements quick and fluid as she reached for the door handle. “Thanks, boy savior,” she quipped, her tone light but teasing.

“Wait a sec,” Ekko called just as she began to push the door open.

She paused, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow.

Ekko rummaged through his jacket pocket, the faint jingle of keys breaking the momentary silence. Pulling out a single key, he extended it toward her. “Here,” he said simply. “Spare key to my place.”

Jinx blinked at the offering, her expression shifting into one of surprise before a sly smile crept across her face. She plucked the key from his hand with deliberate ease, holding it up to the light as if appraising it. “You sure about this?” she asked, her grin widening. “You’re going to regret giving me this kind of power.”

“I’m banking on it,” Ekko replied, his grin mirroring hers, a playful glint in his eye. “See you later?”

“See you later,” Jinx echoed, her voice softening just enough to carry a hint of warmth beneath the mischief.

With that, she stepped out of the car, her footsteps quick and confident as she melted into the bustling crowd. Ekko lingered for a moment, his gaze following her until she disappeared from view.

As he pulled back into traffic, the faint scent of lavender clung to the air in the car, a subtle reminder of her presence. A quiet smile tugged at his lips, unbidden but persistent, already looking forward to her return.

—

Jinx leaned back in her chair, flipping through the design moodboard with little enthusiasm, her gaze drifting over the images but not truly absorbing them. Her lunch sat untouched beside her, halfheartedly poked at but still largely intact. The break room around her buzzed with the low hum of chatter and the sound of microwaves, but Jinx was somewhere else entirely.

To be more specific, a certain someone kept intruding on her thoughts. Her brows furrowed as she tried to push the idea aside, but it was futile.

Ekko. His face, his words, his presence—he just kept popping up in her mind, uninvited.

Jinx let out a quiet sigh, her fingers brushing against her temple as if that could somehow push him out of her head. Frustration bubbled beneath the surface, mingling with something else she didn’t want to name. She’d made a promise to herself a long time ago—to keep her heart locked away, to never let it wander into dangerous territory again. It was safer that way.

Their history was too long, their bond too deep. If she crossed that line, there would be no going back. No matter how much she tried to tell herself otherwise, she knew the truth: once you crossed that bridge, there was no returning to the good old times, no falling back into the familiar rhythm of “just friends.” Should it all end badly—and she knew herself well enough to believe it would—it would be over for good.

And really, who was she kidding? She didn’t deserve anyone, least of all someone like him.

Ekko. He was everything she wasn’t. Steady where she was a mess, kind where she was rough-edged, and so damn unwavering it made her chest ache just thinking about it. He didn’t need someone like her—a mess, a storm, a walking pile of baggage waiting to crush whoever got too close. No, she wasn’t going to drag him down, not when he deserved so much better.

Keeping her distance was the best thing she could do for him. For both of them.

Jinx tightened her jaw, forcing herself to look away from the mental image of him that lingered in her thoughts. She had to push it aside, shove it deep down where it couldn’t claw at her anymore. Feelings were fleeting and foolish, and she couldn’t afford them—not now, not ever.

Still, her mind betrayed her, replaying the past few days like a record stuck on repeat. The way he’d been acting—the small gestures that felt too deliberate to ignore. Cooking her favorite meals, the quiet drives, the invitation to Sunshine Coast. Each one chipped away at her resolve, gnawed at her certainty that she was reading too much into things.

It wasn’t nothing. It couldn’t be nothing. Right?

She hated how it made her wonder, how it sparked the tiniest ember of hope she had no business holding onto. A hope she had no right to. 

But if it truly wasn’t nothing. If Ekko really did feel the same way—if he wanted more than what they had—did she have the strength to keep him at arm’s length? To protect him from the mess that is herself?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, seeing the name Babbette flash up. With a sigh, Jinx answered the call, propping her feet up on the chair opposite her.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jinx, it’s Babbette. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the voice on the other end said, sweet but tinged with apologetic energy.

“Nothing to interrupt.” Jinx replied, coating her voice with more sweetness than usual. It always seemed to do wonders to Babbette. “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to let you know that I’ve finally managed to secure an appointment with the interior designer I had wanted,” Babbette continued. “He’s very popular, so there’s a bit of a wait. I was hoping you might be alright with me coming by next weekend with him. I’d really love to get started on your place.”

Jinx didn’t react much, still flicking through the board absentmindedly. “Next weekend, huh? Sure, I guess you’re welcome to do so.” She paused before adding, her tone shifting slightly, “But, I won’t be able to be there. I’ll be out of town.”

There was a brief silence before Babbette spoke again, sounding slightly relieved. “Oh, that’s perfectly fine, Jinx. I didn’t mean to impose. I just wanted to get your opinion, but if you’re away, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I’m not worried at all, Babbette. I’m sure it would be fine,” Jinx answered,

“That’s good to hear. Will you still be alright with your current living situation?”

“Yes, you don’t need to worry about me,” Jinx made sure to sound extra sugary with her voice. 

“That is such wonderful news,” Babbette replied. Jinx could almost hear her smiling. “Well, I will let you go now. Talk to you soon?”

“Talk to you soon,” Jinx replied before hanging up the phone and setting it down. She looked back at the moodboard for a second, then pushed it aside, her eyes settling on her uneaten lunch. With a sigh, she grabbed her sandwich, taking a bite with little enthusiasm.

—

“What’s for dinner tonight?”

Ekko jumped slightly as he felt a pair of hands slip under his shoulders, clasping in front of him. The touch sent a shiver down his spine, freezing him in place. His body tensed, caught somewhere between shock and a strange, electric anticipation.

He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. That playful, unrestrained energy pressing against him was unmistakable.

He had forgotten how handsy Jinx could get.

Swallowing hard, he steeled himself, forcing a steadying breath through his nose. He fixed his eyes back on the pan in front of him, determined not to let her proximity unnerve him.

“Good evening to you too, Jinx,” he said dryly, trying to steady himself.

“I told you you’d regret giving me a key,” Jinx teased, her voice low and playful. Ekko could feel her grin against his shoulder as she leaned in, trying to peek over him to see what he was cooking. 

He felt his stomach churn at the sensation, but he kept his eyes trained on the task in front of him, focusing on the pan in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth of her presence behind him. Every breath she took only seemed to heighten his awareness, and he couldn’t help but tense up, trying to maintain his composure.

He cleared his throat. “Are you going to let me finish cooking, or are you going to keep hanging on me?” Ekko asked, his voice neutral, though a faint edge of tension slipped through, betraying the effort it took to keep his focus.

Jinx did an exaggerated sniff, not bothering to answer his question. Her breath warmed his neck, and she leaned in closer, peering over his shoulder with feigned curiosity. “What is this smell?”

Ekko let out a deep sigh, his hand pausing mid-stir. “It’s Shakshuka,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jinx smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Shakshuka, huh? Is that some kind of magic spell to get me hungry?”

Ekko gave her a quick side-eye. “Something like that, yeah,” he muttered, feeling a little less in control of the situation than he’d like to admit.

She finally let go, stepping to the side and leaning in closer to take a better look at the dish. “Where’d you learn to cook this?”

“A coworker,” Ekko answered, trying to shrug casually, though his mind was torn between feeling relieved and strangely missing the warmth of her presence behind him. He focused on the dish, his eyes locked on the simmering sauce, but his thoughts were still racing.

Jinx took another sniff, leaning in closer before nodding with a look of satisfaction. “Whatever it is, it’s now Jinx-approved,” she said, her voice light but teasing, as if she’d just declared victory.

“Good to know,” Ekko replied with a half-smile.

“How long until it’s done?” Jinx asked, her voice casual as she leaned against the counter.

“Not long, why do you ask?”

“I feel gross,” Jinx said simply, her tone deadpan. “I want to shower first.”

Ekko faltered, his body momentarily stiffening and his thoughts wandering, especially with his mind still racing from the previous proximity. But he quickly shook himself out of the moment, trying to ignore the sudden twist in his stomach. “Be my guest,” he said, his voice tight, betraying more than he’d like to admit.

Jinx didn’t seem to notice, nodding energetically before bounding off toward the washroom, her usual unrestrained enthusiasm lighting up the room.

Ekko exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, as if to clear away the cloud of thoughts she left in her wake. “Get your head out of the gutter,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze snapping back to the stove with an intensity that almost felt like a physical effort.

Chapter Text

Ekko had gotten used to the rhythm life had given him the past week, albeit with some issues of straying thoughts about the blue head living in his space—but for the most part, he felt good.

Mornings had become a quiet ritual, one he genuinely enjoyed. Preparing a balanced breakfast for Jinx before she rushed off to work was something he found himself looking forward to—his small way of ensuring she started her day right. It wasn’t much, but the act felt oddly fulfilling.

Afterward, he’d drive her to work, taking the now-familiar back roads to avoid the city’s relentless traffic. She always had some sharp commentary to offer, whether it was about the music on the radio or the state of the potholes on the road. Her voice filled the space, and he found he didn’t mind the noise.

Afternoons were his time. He’d skim through job postings, send out applications, or stock up on groceries for the evening meal they would share. 

Then it would be the highlight of the day. Dinner. A time to catch up with Jinx, laugh, and let the day’s frustrations melt away. He always aimed to time it just right to have dinner ready when she got back—her schedule had been relatively predictable, to his relief.

Which brought him to tonight. 

He tapped the table nervously as he sat at the dinner table, his gaze flicking between the empty seat across from him and the clock on the wall, which now read 7:33PM.

Jinx was late. 

And for the first time in the past week, his rhythm was disrupted by an unfamiliar sense of impatience.

It was ridiculous how unsettled he felt. She was probably fine—stuck at work or caught up in something last-minute. But still, her absence left a void in the apartment that felt too large, too quiet.

Jinx had fallen back into his life with unnerving ease, slipping into his days like she’d never left. And though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he’d grown used to her presence. It wasn’t just the noise or the mess she sometimes brought—it was the way she made the space feel less empty, more alive.

The thought of her eventually moving back into her own apartment—a mere door or two away—shouldn’t bother him. It wasn’t like she’d be far. But somehow, the idea of her not being just there felt… off. 

She wouldn’t be lounging on his couch, her legs draped over the armrest as she absentmindedly twirled strands of her blue hair. She wouldn’t be rummaging through his kitchen, claiming he never stocked the “good snacks” while leaving a trail of crumbs on the counter. Her laughter wouldn’t echo through the apartment at random intervals, drawing his attention like clockwork.

The realization settled uneasily in his chest, making him frown. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle living alone again. He’d done it before, and it was fine. But fine didn’t seem like enough anymore, not after a week—and only a week—of her being everywhere, her presence filling corners of his life he hadn’t realized were hollow. He didn’t even know how his past self pulled himself to move away. 

Not to mention the increasing amount of her stuff that was beginning to casually take up space in the small apartment. From paint tools, canvases, stuffed dolls and even the TV that she had nagged him to help bring over. They had become living proof of her presence. A marking he almost dreaded disappearing. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was stupid to dwell on it—pointless, even. She was her own person, and this was always meant to be temporary. Yet the thought lingered, stubborn and intrusive, as the minutes crawled by.

The sharp trill of his phone shattered the stillness, and he nearly leapt out of his seat to grab it from the table. The name flashing on the screen made his pulse quicken—Jinx.

“Hello?” He said a little too hastily as he answered. 

“Whoa, someone’s excited,” Jinx teased, her voice carrying its usual playful edge.

Ekko cleared his throat as he felt a little warmth creep up on his face. “You’re late tonight.”

“How’d you tell, genius?” 

Ekko rolled his eyes but ignored her quip. “You still at work?” 

“Yep, just one of those days,” she sighed on the other end, her voice carrying a tired edge. “But I’m gonna finish soon, so…” she trailed off, leaving her sentence hanging.

“So, you want me to come and pick you up?” Ekko finished for her, catching her unspoken message.

“Would ya?” she asked, her tone shifting to something softer, almost sheepish.

“Now, why would I do that?” Ekko countered, though his teasing tone betrayed the lack of seriousness in his words.

“Because you’re such a nice guy?”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him. “Flattery isn’t gonna work on me.”

“Oh buggers,” Jinx huffed dramatically, though the smile in her voice was unmistakable. “Guess I’ll have to find some other sucker to bail me out then.”

“Ah, the truth comes out—you think I’m a sucker,” Ekko quipped, his voice warm with mock indignation.

“Caught me,” Jinx shot back. “But hey, you’re my favorite sucker. Feel special?”

“Honored,” Ekko rolled his eyes, smirking despite himself. “But you’ll need more than that to convince me.”

“I can offer three gumdrops.”

Ekko almost snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Just three?”

“I ate the rest already,” she admitted, not even attempting to sound remorseful.

Ekko let the silence hang for a moment, long enough for her to squirm—just a little. Then, with a resigned sigh, he stood up, reaching for his jacket. “Fine, I’m on my way. Try not to eat the rest of the gumdrops.” 

“No promises,” Jinx replied, laughing brightly before the line went dead with her signature abruptness.

Ekko stared at his phone for a moment, shaking his head as a low chuckle escaped him. “Favorite sucker, huh?” he muttered under his breath, slipping the phone into his pocket. He quickly grabbed his keys, making swift strides to the door.

The carefully prepared dinner and the empty chair at the table were already forgotten, left behind as he stepped out into the night.

—

Jinx stood by the curb, tugging her jacket tighter around herself as the crisp fall breeze nipped at her skin. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her breath visible in the chilly air.

The streetlights cast a soft glow on the empty sidewalk, their light flickering occasionally. Jinx glanced up and down the street, her fingers fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket as she waited.

The night was unusually quiet, the distant hum of traffic the only sound accompanying her thoughts. She let out a small puff of air, watching it dissipate in the cool night.

“Come on, Ekko,” she muttered under her breath, casting another glance down the road, her impatience laced with a hint of anticipation.

As if answering her quiet plea, Ekko’s vehicle turned onto the street, the soft hum of the engine breaking the stillness of the night. The headlights illuminated the curb where she stood, casting her shadow against the nearby wall.

Jinx let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a small grin tugging at the corners of her lips. The car slowed to a stop in front of her, and the passenger window rolled down to reveal Ekko’s familiar face.

“Took you long enough,” she teased, stepping closer as her breath fogged in the cool air. 

“Your welcome,” Ekko shot back, his tone light but warm. “Get in before you freeze out here.”

Jinx opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car wrapping around her like a blanket against the crisp night air. Her gaze flicked toward Ekko, who sat hunched slightly forward, one arm resting casually on the steering wheel, his head leaning and tilted in her direction. The soft glow of the dashboard lights traced his face, his expression calm but attentive.

Her heart gave a sudden, unsteady jolt at the sight, the image catching her off guard. She quickly averted her eyes, fixing them on the windshield ahead, hoping the dim light concealed the faint heat creeping up her neck.

“You good?” Ekko’s voice broke through her brief lapse, light but with an undercurrent of concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jinx replied, the words coming out faster and higher than she intended. She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. “Let’s just go, okay?”

But Ekko didn’t move to start the car. Jinx furrowed her brow and turned back to face him, only to find him looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” she asked, her voice tinged with defensive annoyance. Her heart skipped a beat as she briefly considered that maybe he noticed her staring.

“Your seatbelt,” he said simply, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

“Right,” she muttered, fumbling to snap it into place. Her cheeks burned as she fastened it, but she kept her expression neutral, refusing to let him see her flustered. “Happy now?”

Ekko nodded with a playful grin, finally shifting the car into gear. “Ecstatic.”

Jinx tugged at a strand of hair that had fallen into her face, trying to will her thoughts away. It wasn’t the brief moment of embarrassment that lingered in her mind—it was the way he’d leaned on the steering wheel, his gaze steady and unguarded as he looked at her.

The image refused to leave her, playing on repeat like a broken reel. She huffed softly, shifting in her seat and staring out the window, desperate for a distraction. But the night outside offered no help, leaving her alone with the quiet hum of the car and the echo of her own thoughts.

She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye, biting the inside of her cheek. There was something annoyingly effortless about him, the way he always seemed so calm and present, as if nothing could rattle him. It was maddening. And yet, it made her stomach twist in a way that left her feeling off-balance, unsure if she hated or secretly welcomed the sensation.

Maybe both. Probably both.

Definitely both. 

“And the gumdrops?”

His voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, pulling her back into the present. She blinked, clearing her throat before answering. “I actually ate the rest too,” she said, her tone flat and unapologetic, daring him to make a comment.

Ekko’s chuckle was low and warm, resonating in a way that made her heart trip over itself. She refused to let it show, keeping her gaze glued to the window.

“I wasn’t expecting much,” he said, the grin audible in his voice. “But somehow, I’m still surprised.”

“That just means your expectations were still too high.”

“Clearly, I haven’t learned my lesson.”

Jinx shrugged, her lips curving into a sly smirk as she kept her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. “Guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

“I guess you do,” Ekko replied, throwing her a quick sidelong glance, his grin softening into something more genuine. He hesitated for a beat before adding, “How was your day?”

The shift in tone caught her off guard. Her smirk faltered, replaced by a slight frown as the events of her day replayed in her mind.

“I need a drink,” she muttered, her voice flat but laced with irritation.

“That bad, huh?” Ekko mused, his voice light as his eyes stayed focused on the road. “Wanna drop by Gert’s?”

Jinx’s gaze shifted toward him, her previous unease melting away at the suggestion. A grin tugged at her lips as she nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve never had a better idea.”

Ekko chuckled softly, reaching to flick on the turn signal. “Don’t let that be the bar for my brilliance.”

“Too late,” Jinx quipped, leaning back into her seat, her earlier tension replaced by a flicker of excitement.

—

“So, tell me,” Ekko began, setting a pint of beer in front of Jinx and a glass of Coke in front of himself. He slid into the seat across from her with an easy grin. “How bad was your day?”

Jinx’s eyes flicked to the Coke, one eyebrow arching. “You’re not drinking?”

“I’m driving,” Ekko replied simply, leaning back in his chair.

“Just leave the car here,” Jinx suggested with a casual shrug.

“Overnight?” Ekko raised his own brow as he took a sip of his pop. “No way.”

“You’re no fun,” she teased, lifting the pint and taking a long sip, savoring the cold bitterness.

Ekko rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t fade. “You said you needed a drink. I didn’t say I needed one.”

Jinx set her glass down with a soft thunk and smirked. “Guess one of us has to be responsible.”

“Exactly,” Ekko replied with mock seriousness, tapping his glass of Coke against her pint. “Cheers to me.”

“I meant myself, you know,” Jinx retorted, narrowing her eyes.

Ekko’s grin didn’t falter. “I know,” he said, the playful glint in his eyes daring her to argue further. 

“Does anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?” 

“First time I’m hearing it,” Ekko quipped, leaning back with an exaggerated air of innocence. “They tell me I’m a delight, actually.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“That’s rich,” Ekko countered, a teasing grin spreading across his face, “coming from Queen Hopeless herself.”

Jinx nearly snorted into her glass, barely managing to stifle it. She shot him a mock glare, choosing instead to take another gulp from her drink rather than dignify his jab with a comeback.

Ekko waited for her to set her glass down before shifting in his seat, leaning a little closer to the table. “You still haven’t told me how bad your day was.”

Jinx let out an exaggerated groan, slumping back in her chair with a heavy sigh, her arms falling limply to her sides.

“You know Karen—my boss?” she started, tilting her head toward him. “Her real name is Karen, by the way. I’m not even making that up.”

Ekko chuckled, setting his glass down. “That already sounds like trouble.”

Suddenly, Jinx straightened in her seat, energy crackling in her movements as she leaned forward. Her eyes sparked with frustration, and Ekko couldn’t help but find her sudden intensity both startling and oddly charming.

“She’s a nightmare,” Jinx huffed, her words quick and clipped. “I give her this design I’ve been slaving over all week—based on her stupid moodboard, mind you—and then, today , she tells me to scrap the whole thing and start over!”

“Ah,” Ekko said, his tone laced with understanding, “so that’s why you’ve been pulling overtime.”

Jinx downed the last of her beer in one go, slamming the empty cup on the table. “Wait, it gets better,” Jinx said, her voice dropping to a simmering frustration. “She still wants it by the original deadline. Like, who does that?”

“I can imagine that bei—”

“Ekko?”

—

“Seraphine?” Ekko’s eyes were wide.

Jinx resisted the urge to groan aloud, her gaze narrowing at the unwelcome intruder. She and Seraphine had never gotten along—even on her best days. A bubbly music major like her? They might as well have been oil and water.

But that was the least of her issues with her, when there was this: Seraphine draping herself over Ekko like he was some kind of human Christmas tree every time they crossed paths. It didn’t sit right with her. Not one bit.

“You didn’t say you were back!” Seraphine exclaimed, her tone light but edged with something almost accusatory, as if she’d been kept out of a secret.

Ekko rubbed the back of his neck, managing a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I, uh, meant to reach out, but… things got busy.”

Jinx’s gaze sharpened, her eyes bouncing between Ekko and the pink-haired girl. The playful spark she’d had moments ago was gone, replaced by something much cooler. Distaste settled on her face like a shadow, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You should’ve told me,” Seraphine added, her voice bubbly and bright, either oblivious to—or deliberately ignoring—Jinx’s pointed glare.

Jinx was betting on the latter

No, she knew it was the latter. 

That sly bitch —the words simmered just beneath the surface, and it took all her restraint not to say them aloud.

“Guess I slipped up,” Ekko replied, his tone lighter than the tension hanging in the air.. “It’s been a hectic few days.”

Seraphine nodded enthusiastically, her unyielding smile never faltering. “Well, it’s great to see you back, busy or not. We should catch up soon—coffee or something?” she added, her hand casually brushing his shoulder.

Jinx’s eyes twitched as she felt her stomach churn at the sight, a sharp pang of irritation bubbling up inside her.

Ekko hesitated, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “Uh, yeah, maybe,” he said, his voice tinged with a reluctant politeness.

Seraphine beamed, clearly taking his lukewarm response as a win. “Perfect! I’ll text you!”

Jinx clenched her jaw, her lips curling into a forced smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, isn’t that nice,” she drawled, her voice sweet but laced with sarcasm sharp enough to pierce steel.

The pointed comment earned a flicker of surprise from Seraphine, but she quickly masked it with another bright laugh. “Oh, Jinx! Always so… spirited.”

“Oh, you know me,” Jinx replied, her smile hardening. “Always full of surprises.”

Ekko’s eyes darted between the two women, and he ran a hand over his face, the tension clearly not lost on him. “So, uh, Seraphine… you headed somewhere, or just passing through?”

The question hung in the air like a lifeline, and Jinx’s smirk grew ever so slightly as she watched Seraphine falter, her eyes darting to Ekko’s expectant expression.

“Oh! Yeah, I was just on my way out, had a get together with some friends,” Seraphine nodded to the door, her tone a little too airy. “But I couldn’t not say hi when I saw you!”

“Well, you’ve said hi,” Jinx interjected smoothly, leaning forward. “So don’t let us keep you.”

Seraphine’s smile faltered for a split second before she plastered it back in place. “Right. Well, it was great to see you, Ekko! Don’t forget about coffee!” Seraphine chirped, oblivious—or perhaps too aware—as she gave him a lingering pat.

Jinx’s gaze followed her retreating figure, her jaw tightening as silence settled between them.

Ekko shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Well, that was unexpected.”

Jinx’s eyes snapped back to him, her tone sharper than she intended. “Was it?”

Ekko blinked, caught off guard by her edge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jinx said with a too-sweet smile, picking up her empty glass and swirling the nonexistent contents. “Just seems like you’ve got plenty of people eager to welcome you back. Real nice.”

“Come on, Jinx.” Ekko sighed, leaning forward, his elbows on the table. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah sure, just like that deaf girl,” Jinx shot back, her voice carrying more bite than she intended.

“Sona?” Ekko blinked. 

“Yeah, her or whatever.”

“She’s mute, not deaf,” he corrected, his tone calm but firm.

“Same shit,” Jinx muttered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“That is not , in fact, the same shit,” Ekko said, shaking his head in disbelief. He straightened up, fixing her with a pointed look. “Wait—what do you think happened between me and Sona? We did one group project together.”

Jinx leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Oh, I don’t know. She was all over you, batting those big, sad eyes. Didn’t take a genius to see what she was after.”

Ekko let out a short laugh, incredulous. “Sad eyes? Jinx, she barely looked at me the whole time. She was just shy, and we were, like, nineteen in the first year of uni. You’re making something out of nothing.”

“Oh, I’m making something out of nothing?” Jinx shot back, her tone sharpening as she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “You didn’t see the way she’d go all doe-eyed every time you spoke.”

Ekko raised his hands in surrender, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. “First of all, that’s just her face. Second, even if she did, so what? Nothing happened.”

Jinx’s lips pressed into a thin line, her glare faltering for a moment before she huffed, looking away. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Ekko repeated, leaning in slightly, his tone softer now but no less exasperated. “Come on, Jinx. You know me better than that. If there was anything to tell, I’d have told you.”

Jinx glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her fingers tapping against her arm. “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t thinking about it,” she muttered, the words almost too quiet to catch. 

As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them. She regretted all the words she had said. They felt wrong, bitter. She didn’t like how she was responding, didn’t like the knot forming in her chest or the heat creeping into her cheeks. Yet, the words kept spilling out, unbidden and raw, dragging feelings to the surface she didn’t want to name.

It made her feel ugly and small.

Ekko raised an eyebrow, his frustration growing. “You know,” he tilted his head, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

Her head snapped back toward him, a flicker of something unrecognizable in her gaze. Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Jealous?” she scoffed, forcing out a laugh that came off a little too sharp. “Don’t flatter yourself, buster.” 

But the words felt like a lie, even to her. 

She knew she had no right to feel that way—not when she wasn’t in the position to be. She was just a good friend. But even knowing that didn’t dull the sting, and it made her hate herself for it.

Ekko leaned back, crossing his arms, his expression still perplexed. “Why else would you hate both Sona and Seraphine?”

“Just ‘cause,” Jinx muttered, her tone flat and dismissive, but her eyes betrayed her, narrowing in irritation.

“That’s not a reason, Jinx.”

“Drop it,” she warned, her voice low, the tension in her posture growing.

“Just give me a valid—”

“I said drop it,” she interjected, voice tight, gaze narrow.

Ekko’s features softened, his frustrated expression fading into something gentler. “Okay,” he said, his voice quieter, more tender than before. “I will.”

Jinx nodded, feeling a small surge of satisfaction. A grin returned to her lips as she pushed back from the table, ready to change the subject. “I’m gonna get something stronger.”

Ekko raised a hand, stopping her mid-step. “Hey,” he said, his voice serious for a moment, then a bit lighter, “I’m gonna join you on that.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her grin widening at the unexpected agreement. “What about the car?”

“I think we can leave it for one night.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

Chapter Text

The hour was much later than Ekko had anticipated—or intended. With Jinx slung over his shoulder like a particularly uncooperative sack of flour, he stumbled through the doorway of his apartment. Her laughter, loose and uninhibited, filled the quiet space, echoing off the walls.

“You’re so much stronger than you look,” Jinx slurred, her voice lilting with amusement as she poked at his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks for noticing,” Ekko muttered, his tone dry as he carefully navigated the living room, trying not to trip over anything in his path.

“You’re like… a tiny tank ,” she added, giggling at her own observation.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ekko replied, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a small, exasperated smile.

He shifted her weight slightly, making his way toward the couch. As he lowered her down, Jinx pulled her jacket off and threw it. Satisfied she flopped dramatically, her arms sprawling out over the cushions. “This couch… is my kingdom ,” she declared, staring up at the ceiling as if it were a star-filled sky.

“Great. Your Highness needs to hydrate,” Ekko said, picking up her jacket and hanging it by the doorway before heading toward the kitchen.

Jinx propped herself up on one elbow, squinting after him. “Are you bringing me a goblet of wine for my royal court?”

“Water,” Ekko corrected as he filled a glass. “And maybe a bucket, just in case.”

Her exaggerated groan of protest followed him back into the living room, where she sat slouched, pouting at the sight of the glass in his hand. “You’re no fun, Tiny Tank.”

Ekko set the water on the table in front of her and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Drink. Or tomorrow morning, you’ll wish I’d just left you at the bar.”

Jinx grabbed the glass with a huff, muttering something about tyrants under her breath before taking a sip.

“See? Not so bad,” Ekko said, smirking as he plopped into the armchair across from her.

Jinx leaned back into the couch, her smirk lazily returning. “You know, you make a pretty good knight in shining armor. Maybe I’ll knight you.”

“Oh, the honor,” Ekko replied dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched with a grin he couldn’t quite suppress.

Jinx raised an imaginary sword, her movements exaggerated and clumsy, as she swayed slightly on the couch. “Rise, Sir Tank, Defender of Drunks,” she declared in her most regal tone, though it cracked into a giggle halfway through.

Ekko let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If you’re the one doing the knighting, maybe I should reconsider.”

“Too late,” Jinx shot back, pointing her invisible blade at him. “You’re sworn in for life.”

Her laughter bubbled up again, light and carefree, filling the quiet apartment as she fell backward onto the couch like a deflated balloon, her arms sprawled out dramatically.

“Finish the water,” Ekko said softly, his tone gentle but firm as he gestured toward the glass on the coffee table.

Jinx turned her head to him, attempting what he assumed was meant to be a sidelong glare, but it ended up looking more like a lopsided pout. “You’re such a nag,” she mumbled, her voice dragging like a child caught avoiding bedtime.

“Please,” Ekko urged, his voice tinged with genuine concern. He leaned forward, his expression softening as he added, “Just a few more sips, okay?”

Jinx groaned dramatically, covering her face with her arm. “Fine, but only because you said pwease.”

She sat up with exaggerated effort, grabbing the glass and taking a small sip before shooting him a triumphant look. “Happy now?”

“Getting there,” Ekko replied, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “I’ve been sworn in for life, remember? Can’t have my liege keeling over.”

Jinx snorted, shaking her head as she took another sip. “If I keel over, it’s probably from all your nagging.”

“Sure,” Ekko said with a chuckle, leaning back into his chair. “Blame me. That’s fair. But still drink.”

Jinx attempted a roll of her eyes but her head seemed to follow the movement too, making it sway side to side like a loose spring. 

Ekko pressed his lips together and let out a breath through his nose, fighting the laugh that threatened to escape. Her unintentional goofiness—and, okay, her sheer adorableness—made it harder to keep a straight face.

She narrowed her eyes at him, catching the flicker of amusement he couldn’t quite hide. “What’s so funny, boy savior?”

“Nothing,” Ekko said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he struggled to maintain his composure. “You’re really rocking the regal look, head bobble and all.”

Jinx huffed, crossing her arms with exaggerated defiance. “It’s not a bobble. It’s… strategic head movement. Keeps enemies guessing.”

Ekko finally let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Enemies. Totally tactical.”

“Damn right it is,” Jinx shot back, though the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her. She grabbed the glass again, raising it like a toast. “To sworn-in knights and tactical head bobbles.”

“To not keeling over,” Ekko added, raising an imaginary glass with a grin.

Jinx chuckled, finishing off the water in one long gulp before placing the glass on the table with a soft clink. “You’re lucky you’re funny, Ekko,” she said, a playful glint in her tired eyes.

“And you’re lucky I’m patient,” he shot back, the corners of his mouth quirking into a lopsided grin.

Jinx didn’t quip back and let out a deep sigh, sinking into the couch like she was melting into it. “I’m tired, knight boy,” she murmured, her voice soft and fading, as if sleep was already pulling at the edges of her consciousness.

Ekko chuckled softly, standing up and stretching before walking over to her. “Tired, huh? That’s what happens when you challenge your sworn knight to an endurance test involving alcohol.”

Jinx waved a hand weakly in his direction, her eyes already half-closed. “Shhh, knights don’t sass their lieges. It’s un-knightly.”

“Good thing I’m a modern knight,” Ekko quipped, gently pulling a throw blanket from the back of the couch. He draped it over her, smoothing it down over her shoulders. “Get some rest, your majesty. I’ll stand watch.”

“Don’t let the dragons in,” Jinx murmured sleepily, her voice muffled by the blanket as she snuggled into it.

“No dragons,” Ekko promised, his voice soft as he stepped back toward the armchair, keeping an eye on her as she drifted off. “You’re safe.”

Her breathing evened out in seconds. 

Ekko let out a quiet sigh, his gaze lingering on her as her breath rose and fell. He had wanted to ask more about what made Jinx dislike the two girls so much, but he had learned long ago that some things about her were impossible to understand, no matter how much he pressed.

A small part of his mind tugged at the thought that maybe she was jealous or marking her territory, but he knew better than that. Knew better than to hope for that. And even if that were the case, Jinx had always been possessive of what she considered hers—sometimes even friends and family. He had seen how fiercely protective she was of her sister, he had seen it the day of the wedding. Seen how badly she reacted.

Taking a long, steady breath, he rose to his feet. Stepping closer to the couch, he gently pulled the blanket around her, tucking the edges beneath her. His eyes lingered on her face, serene and somehow even paler in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows.

A stray strand of blue hair fell across her cheek. Without thinking, Ekko brushed it aside, his fingers pausing for a moment as they hovered near her face. Catching himself, he shook off the thought and crouched down, sliding his arms beneath her.

With a soft grunt, he lifted her effortlessly, her slight weight almost startling. She stirred just enough to nuzzle into his chest, letting out a faint sigh but never waking. A small smile tugged at his lips as he adjusted her, holding her close.

Making his way to her room, Ekko moved with careful precision, turning the knob silently before nudging the door open with his foot. The soft hum of the night enveloped them as he crossed the threshold.

Lowering her onto the bed, he eased her down gently, making sure she settled comfortably against the pillows. For a fleeting second, she seemed to whimper at the absence of his warmth, but she quickly relaxed, her expression softening into peaceful slumber. 

Ekko straightened, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer, a mixture of affection and something deeper flickering in his eyes. With a low chuckle, he shook his head and turned to leave, pausing just before stepping out.

“Good night, princess,” he murmured, the words barely audible as he closed the door softly behind him.

—

The hour was much later than Jinx had anticipated—or intended. She woke to the harsh light of the late morning streaming through the window, her head pounding, her stomach twisted in knots. Her body felt heavy, the aftermath of the previous night settling in like an unwelcome guest.

She groaned, pulling the blanket up over her head in an attempt to block out the world. Her mind was still clouded, the fragments of last night’s laughter and conversation slipping through her fingers like sand. She could barely remember how she ended up in her room, but she knew she’d been much better off asleep than facing the consequences of her impulsive decision-making.

Forcing herself to sit up, Jinx winced at the sudden movement. The familiar ache in her head throbbed like a drumbeat, and she muttered a curse under her breath. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again.” 

Of course, that was a fucking lie. 

But the sentiment was there.

Her eyes fluttered open fully, taking in the stillness of her room. The blanket felt too warm, the air too thick. She pushed it off her body and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, half-expecting the floor to spin beneath her. The world didn’t betray her just yet, but she still felt off-balance, like she was teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Okay. Water. Water fixes everything,” she muttered, as if saying it aloud would make it true. She shuffled toward the door with slow, unsteady steps, trying to shake the fog clinging to her brain.

Stepping into the living room, the late morning light hit her like a punch in the face. She leaned against the doorway for a moment, gathering enough strength to push herself toward the kitchen.

There, on the counter, sat a big bottle filled with water and a note stuck to it.

Jinx paused, her brow furrowing slightly. She leaned on the counter, picking up the note lazily. The single word written on it caught her eye:

Drink

It was simple. Direct. And the neatness of it made her smile despite herself.

“Guess I don’t have much of a choice,” she muttered, twisting the cap off. She turned around, leaning back on the counter, and lifted the bottle to her mouth. She took a long gulp. The cold water felt like a small miracle, soothing her dry throat, and she drank deeply, the nausea in her stomach slowly fading with each sip.

As she pulled the bottle away, her eyes wandered around the kitchen. It was quiet—eerily so. The silence felt different, almost off, and a frown tugged at her lips. She had grown so accustomed to the mornings filled with movement and sounds, the familiar presence of Ekko bouncing around making breakfast or humming to himself while he got things ready.

But today, the kitchen was still.

She cocked her head, a thought crossing her mind. Maybe he was still sleeping? It was Saturday, after all. But the fingers still gripping the note made the possibility seem unlikely.

Before she could dwell on it any longer, the sound of a key turning in the front door interrupted her thoughts. The door creaked open, and Ekko stepped inside, a paper bag tucked under his shoulder.

Jinx raised an eyebrow, watching him as he set the bag down on the table with a grin. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, his voice light but carrying a knowing edge.

“Don’t you start,” she muttered, her voice hoarse as she leaned back against the counter, trying to shake off the haze still clouding her brain. “Where were you anyway?”

Ekko’s grin widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he began rummaging through the bag. “I picked up the car. I also bring offerings of coffee and a hangover miracle. You should be grateful.”

Jinx made an exaggerated sniff of the air. “What is it?”

“Brunch,” he answered simply.

“Doesn’t smell like brunch.”

Ekko shrugged as he took out a plastic bowl. “It’s hangover soup,” he said, handing her a cup of coffee. “A cure that my Korean colleague swore by.”

“Smells funky,” she said, scrunching her nose, but accepting the coffee gratefully.

“I’m sure you’d love it once you tried it,” Ekko said, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “It’s practically magic in a bowl.”

Jinx took a tentative sip of her coffee, savoring the warmth. “Magic, huh? We’ll see about that.”

“Trust me,” Ekko said, settling down at the counter with his own cup. “It’s better than the usual stuff you’d reach for.”

Jinx shot him a suspicious look but eventually relented. She picked up a spoon and walked towards the table. She took a cautious bite, then paused, considering. “It’s… not terrible.”

Ekko smiled. “Good enough for me.”

She kept her expression neutral, but by the time she finished the bowl, she had to admit—at least to herself—that it seemed to work. Her stomach had started to settle, and the pounding in her head had dulled slightly. Still, there was no way she was going to let Ekko know he’d been right. He’d be insufferable about it.

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” Ekko asked, oblivious to her distraction as he started clearing the table.

Jinx glanced up briefly, then her gaze dropped to herself. A frown tugged at her lips. “I feel filthy. I need a wash.”

Ekko chuckled as he rinsed off the plastic bowls. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

Jinx huffed in response, but then the mention of the previous night triggered a flash of memory—more a sensation than a specific thought. The warmth of his chin resting above her head as he carried her to her room. The feeling of being held, safe. She blinked, the moment fading before she could really hold onto it.

And then, like a whisper in the back of her mind, his words came to her again. Good night, princess . The tone so soft, so gentle, she couldn’t be sure if it had been real or a fragment of her drunken haze. Had he actually said it? Or had her tired, drunk mind conjured it up?

“Hey, you alright?”

She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Ekko stood right in front of her, concern etched across his features. She had been so lost in thought she hadn’t even noticed him approach. Her face heated, a blush creeping across her cheeks as her mind scrambled for a response.

But her brain spluttered, and her mouth refused to cooperate. Before she could form a coherent word, Ekko leaned in closer. His hand came up, gently pressing against her forehead.

“You feel warm,” he murmured, biting his lip as he gauged her temperature.

The action made her mind spin even faster. Her eyes darted everywhere but his face, desperately avoiding his lips—those soft, kissable lips that had no business looking that inviting.

She fought the urge to scream at the intrusive thought.

“Your face is red,” Ekko said, his worry growing.

Jinx cleared her throat abruptly, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. “I just need a nice, warm shower,” she stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

Ekko raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear. “Jinx—”

Before he could finish, she shot up from her chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor in her haste. “I’ll wash up,” she blurted, avoiding his gaze as she hurried toward her room, leaving him standing there alone with a confused look on his face. 

She grabbed a fresh set of clothes in record time, clutching them tightly as she darted toward the bathroom. She tried to make her movements seem casual, but each step felt awkwardly forced. She couldn’t help but wince as she felt his gaze lingering on her retreating figure.

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind her, she let out a long, shaky breath. Leaning against the door, she clutched her clothes to her chest and stared up at the ceiling.

“This is unhealthy,” she muttered. 

—

Much to Jinx’s relief—and, if she was being honest, a faint flicker of disappointment—the rest of the week had passed without incident. So, she hadn’t made any more slip-ups like she had on Saturday.

Ekko was his usual self: caring, endearing, kind, and just as frustratingly lovable as always. He still made breakfast every morning, drove her to work, and had a delicious dinner waiting for her when she came home each evening. All very sweet and butterfly inducing.

But still his usual self. 

Jinx had grown almost accustomed to this lifestyle, to the quiet reliability of Ekko’s presence. It was comfortable, almost too much so, like a warm blanket she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of. Yet, a part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she was leaning on it more than she should.

She had, of course, tried asking Ekko from time to time what motivated him to do all the things he did for her. Why he bothered to wake early every morning to cook breakfast, or why he made sure her favorite snacks were stocked in the pantry, or why he always seemed to know exactly when she needed a little extra patience.

But Ekko never gave her a real answer. He’d wave her questions away with a nonchalant grin, obfuscate with a joke, or shrug it off entirely. “Because I feel like it,” he’d say, or, “It’s no big deal.” No matter how many times she asked, she couldn’t get him to give her a clear response.

And that uncertainty, that inability to pin him down, was starting to gnaw at her more than she wanted to admit.

It also did wonders for her fantasies.

In the quiet moments, when her mind wasn’t occupied by the humdrum of daily life, she’d catch herself imagining reasons. Silly ones, dramatic ones, and occasionally ones that made her heart race. Was he just being nice? Did he feel obligated? Or maybe—just maybe—did he care about her in a way she hadn’t dared to hope?

She hated how easily those thoughts slipped in, how often they lingered. It was infuriating and embarrassing, and yet, it was also a little intoxicating. Because while the uncertainty gnawed at her, it also left room for possibilities. And it was those possibilities, however far-fetched, that she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of.

She groaned and let her head fall forward, staring at the still-empty luggage bag in front of her. Hours had passed since she’d started packing, and yet not a single item had made it inside. The trip tomorrow wasn’t helping; if anything, it was making things worse.

She tried to tell herself the trip wasn’t a big deal, just another minor disruption to her usual routine. But that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away. It clung to her like a shadow, whispering that something was going on—or maybe, just maybe, something was going to happen.

And that thought, as much as it made her chest tighten with nerves, also made her stomach flutter with anticipation. 

A knock at the door startled her, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. She hastily tossed a few random clothes and items into the luggage, clearing her throat to compose herself.

“Come in,” she called, her voice carefully neutral.

Ekko’s head poked through the door, a small smile playing on his lips. “You said you were able to get a half-day tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Jinx replied with a nod, keeping her tone even.

“Great.” Ekko’s grin widened. “The ferry’s scheduled for half past five, so we should be loaded up and ready to leave by four. That work for you?”

“It should,” she said with a shrug.

“Okay, good night then.”

“Good night,” Jinx replied, her voice softer than she intended.

Ekko gave a satisfied nod before closing the door behind him.

Jinx’s gaze lingered on the closed door for a moment before she let out a final sigh, turning her attention back to the half-packed luggage. Nothing’s going to happen, she told herself firmly. The trip meant nothing, and it was going to lead to nothing.

Right?

—

Ekko laid in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, though his mind was far from still. He had been looking forward to the trip tomorrow, more than he was willing to admit aloud.

For many reasons, actually. One of them, oddly enough, was that despite their long history together, he and Jinx had never gone on an overnight trip. When he first realized it, the fact had made him pause. Their friendship spanned years and milestones, yet this would be a new experience. He blamed Jinx and her stubborn homebody tendencies for that.

Of course, a part of him couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of spending time with just the two of them as they travelled and toured. The intimacy of it made his heart race in ways he struggled to suppress. But even that wasn’t the real reason for his anticipation.

What excited him most was the hope that a change of pace, a change of scenery, might be good for her. He’d noticed how oddly routine her life had become—almost too routine.

In the nearly two weeks she’d spent living with him after the wedding, Jinx hadn’t deviated from her schedule, except for the one Friday when she stayed late at work. No plans, no outings, no spontaneous decisions. Just work, meals, and the occasional bar or park outing with him.

And while Ekko cherished their time together, he couldn’t ignore how disconcerting it was that she didn’t seem to have anyone else in her life. From what he’d observed, the only people she remotely interacted with were himself, her sister, and, strangely, her landlord. Jinx had always kept a small social circle—she’d never cared for what she considered superficial friendships—but there used to be more than this.

He had tried poking and prodding gently, without explicitly asking, but the answers were always the same. “I got no plans,” she’d say, or, “Why go out when a drink could do the trick.” It really made him wonder if this is how she had spent her time all the time.  

Had the past five years really been this isolating for her?

The thought made his chest tighten with an ache he couldn’t quite name. It wasn't a pity, exactly. It was something deeper, a blend of sorrow and concern that made him want to do something, anything, to help.

And that was why he’d been so eager about the trip. Not just to spend more time together, but to reintroduce her to something outside her bubble. He hoped she’d connect with his friends, or at least take the first steps toward building new relationships.

Because no matter how much he loved being her constant, Jinx deserved more than just him. She deserved a life that wasn’t so lonely.

Ekko shifted on the bed, running a hand over his face. Of course, he wasn’t naïve enough to think a single trip could fix everything, but maybe it could be the spark she needed. A moment to breathe, to see the world through a lens she’d been too afraid—or too hurt—to look through before.

If nothing else, he hoped she’d walk away from the trip with something new: a desire to explore, an idea that maybe she wasn’t as stuck as she believed, or even just the memory of a good time shared with him and others who cared.

That hope, fragile yet persistent, was enough to make him smile faintly to himself.

And if she didn’t?

Well, then he’d still be there. Patiently waiting, quietly encouraging, and gently nudging her towards it. One small step at a time. 

He was sworn in for life after all.

Chapter Text

Jinx leaned forward on the railing of the upper deck of the ferry, her elbows resting against the cold metal as her eyes traced the horizon. The sky blazed in shades of orange and crimson, the sun hanging low, casting long shadows over the water. The fading light reflected off the surface in a mesmerizing dance, creating ripples of gold and pink she hadn’t imagined possible. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, the salty sea air filling her lungs once more. The wind, laced with the autumn breeze, whispered through her hair, pulling it this way before the next. The sensation was soothing, almost grounding, and for a moment, Jinx let the world around her fall away.

Her eyes stayed closed as she tilted her head slightly, allowing the wind to keep tugging at her with abandon. The scent of the ocean was mixed with something elusive—something she couldn’t quite name. She could feel the pulse of the water below, the rhythm of it somehow aligning with her own heartbeat. It was rare—rare for her to stop, to simply feel the world—but it didn’t feel wrong.

Her fingers twitched involuntarily, itching for a paintbrush. It was an urge she wasn’t used to—not the usual compulsion to spill her mind onto a canvas in jagged lines and frenetic color, but something different. This was quieter, a longing to capture something beautiful. To take the harmony and beauty of this moment, the contrast of the wild waves and the serene sky, and make it tangible. 

To something she could touch, could own. 

Painting had always been a release for her, an outlet to externalize the storm inside her mind. She wasn’t accustomed to wanting to create simply because something moved her, but now she did. She wanted to memorialize the beauty, the stillness, the fleeting peace that she rarely let herself feel.

But she had no paint kit, no brushes, no canvas to bring her vision to life. For a moment, a pang of frustration flared within her, but it was fleeting. She exhaled, letting the tension flow out with her breath.

For now, it was enough just to be. To let the ocean’s rhythm wash over her, to keep the memory not on a canvas but in her mind and her bones and let the that be her keepsake

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

The voice broke the quiet like a gentle ripple on the surface of the water. Jinx opened her eyes slowly, turning just enough to see Ekko standing beside her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The warmth in his tone, the simple truth of his words, made her pause.

For a moment, she didn’t answer, letting his question settle between them, as if the words themselves needed to find their place in the air. Then she turned back to the water, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“Yeah,” she said softly, her voice carrying the same quiet awe. “It is.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow next to her, glancing at her in surprise. Perhaps surprised by her lack of a quip. The moment lingered between them for a beat before he shrugged. “Never quite the same each time.”

Jinx turned toward him, her smile small but genuine. “I can see why you kept going to the islands for those wellness retreats alone.” 

“Like I said, those are just called vacations,” Ekko replied with a teasing glint in his eyes. “And, for the record, I invited you every time.”

Jinx snorted, leaning back slightly as she folded her arms. “Should’ve tried harder,” she replied, but there was no real bite to her voice. The teasing tone was softened, almost playful, as though the words were more of an afterthought than an actual rebuke.

Ekko chuckled, glancing back at the water. “Maybe next time,” he said, voice quieter, as if the idea of another future retreat had already settled between them.

The thought made Jinx smile, a subtle curve of her lips that softened her sharp features. She turned her gaze back to the horizon, the sunset painting her face in hues of gold and amber. For a moment, the warmth in her expression lingered, unguarded.

Then, her playful air returned like a breeze cutting through the stillness. She glanced at him sideways, her smirk tugging back into place. “And who says there’ll be a next time?”

Ekko grinned, undeterred, as he leaned casually against the railing. “Oh, there’ll be a next time,” he said, his voice brimming with easy confidence.

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her smirk curling wider as she turned back to the horizon. “Bold assumption,” she said, her tone laced with mock skepticism.

“Call it a hunch,” Ekko shot back smoothly, his grin growing as he straightened. “From someone who knows you a little too well.”

“Too well?” Jinx repeated. “You almost make it sound like a bad thing.” 

Ekko chuckled, tilting his head as he met her gaze. “Depends. Some might call it a privilege. Others might call it… exhausting.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the hint of amusement in her voice. “Good thing you enjoy my charm so much, huh?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ekko said, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity that made Jinx’s smirk falter, just for a moment.

She opened her mouth to fire back a quip, but the sincerity in his voice caused it to die in her throat. Instead, she turned away, gazing back at the horizon, her expression softening as the golden light danced across her features. “Fine, there probably will be a next time—but don’t get used to this—me agreeing with you.”

Ekko smirked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll make sure to mark it on the calendar. A once-in-a-lifetime event.”

Jinx shook her head in mock disbelief, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Better make it a national holiday while you’re at it.”

“Already in the works,” he quipped, leaning casually against the railing beside her.

Jinx couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and rare, carried away by the breeze. She glanced at him, the smile lingering. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re smiling,” Ekko countered, his grin widening.

“Don’t get used to that either,” she warned, but the warmth in her voice betrayed her words.

—

“Welcome to paradise!” 

Ekko smiled as he stepped through the doorway, his gaze landing on the familiar face waiting for him. Scar stood there with his usual wide grin, arms open in greeting.

“Scar,” Ekko replied warmly, moving in to embrace his old friend. The hug was firm and brief—years of history packed into the easy familiarity of that moment.

Scar clapped him on the back as they pulled away, his grin not fading an inch. “Look at you. Still the same, but a little taller. Maybe even a little wiser.”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t start flattering me already. We just got here.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep your ego healthy,” Scar teased, stepping back to let him in. “Come on, dinner is ready. And you,” he added, glancing behind Ekko with a raised eyebrow, “must be Jinx.”

Jinx offered a lazy wave from where she stood just outside the door, her smirk playful. “That obvious, huh?”

“Only heard a million stories about you,” Scar replied with a wink before turning back to Ekko.

Ekko stepped inside as his cheeks flushed, carefully setting his bag down near the doorway before reaching back for Jinx’s. He took hers without a word, placing it neatly next to his own, keeping his head down to avoid the gaze he knew he was receiving. 

Jinx quirked an eyebrow at him, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You didn’t tell me I was famous,” she teased, her tone light but curious as her eyes flicked between Scar and Ekko.

Scar laughed, a low, easy sound that filled the room. “Famous, notorious—depends who you ask.”

Ekko groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s exaggerating,” he muttered, giving Scar a sidelong glare.

“Right,” Jinx said, her voice tinged with suspicion that made Ekko inwardly wince.

“You wouldn’t believe half of what—”

“Scar.” Ekko’s voice cut through, sharper than intended as he shot his friend a pointed look.

Scar paused, his grin widening like a cat who’d found a canary. “Fine, fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll behave.”

Jinx tilted her head, her curiosity only deepening as she shifted her weight against the doorframe. “Now I really want to know,” she said, her eyes narrowing playfully at Ekko.

“You don’t ,” Ekko replied quickly, his tone firm but his cheeks betraying him with a faint pink tinge.

Scar chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment far too much. “Oh, she’d love the stories,” he said, winking at Jinx. “Especially the one about—”

“Dinner!” Ekko interjected loudly, clapping his hands together and stepping further into the house. “You mentioned dinner, Scar. We should eat before it gets cold.”

Scar let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he gestured toward the dining room. “Alright, alright. Come on, food’s this way.”

Jinx trailed behind them, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “This isn’t over,” she murmured to Ekko as they walked.

Ekko let out a quiet groan, his shoulders sagging just slightly. “Nope. It’s very over ,” he muttered, the hint of a playful edge in his tone failing to mask his resignation.

Jinx smirked wider, her gaze fixed ahead. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Ekko opened his mouth to retort, but Scar’s voice called over his shoulder, cutting him off.

“You’ll love my wife’s cooking, Ekko,” Scar said, his tone brimming with pride. “She makes a mean stew.”

Ekko gave a half-hearted response, glancing at Jinx with a knowing glare. She only stuck her tongue out at him before they entered the kitchen.

Both of them paused as the rich, savory scent of beef stew immediately hit them.

Ekko’s stomach let out a quiet, unintentional growl, the earlier moment already forgotten. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until the warmth of the smell wrapped around him, igniting his appetite. His cheeks warmed slightly at the sound, but fortunately, nobody seemed to have noticed.

“You must be Ekko and Jinx.”

Ekko turned to see a woman standing by the counter, her hands clasped in front of her. She wore a simple apron, her deep brown hair tied back into a neat bun, though a few strands had escaped, giving her a warm, approachable appearance.

Ekko gave a friendly smile and a slight nod. “That’s us.”

The woman smiled back, her eyes twinkling with a quiet amusement. “I’m Layla. Welcome to our home.”

“Thanks for having us,” Ekko said with a grateful nod, glancing at Jinx, who gave him an almost imperceptible shrug in return.

“Come on, don’t just stand there,” Scar called from the dining room, his voice tinged with impatience. “The food won’t stay warm forever!”

Ekko motioned toward the table. “After you.”

Jinx rolled her eyes but smirked as she stepped past him, heading for the dining room.

Scar was already seated, gesturing for them to join him. “I’ll introduce you to Ryan when he wakes up,” he said, settling back in his chair.

“Oh, right,” Ekko said, sitting down across from Scar. “Congratulations, by the way. How many months is he now?”

Scar’s grin widened, pride evident in his voice. “Six months. He’s growing like a weed. Layla says he’s going to be taller than me.”

Ekko chuckled, glancing at Jinx as she took a seat beside him. “Better start preparing yourself then.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between Scar and Ekko. Leaning in closer, she whispered, “You didn’t mention a baby.”

Ekko shrugged sheepishly. “Guess I forgot.”

Before Jinx could retort, Layla appeared, her presence warm and inviting as she carried a large, steaming pot of stew.

Layla placed the pot gently in the center of the table, her smile wide and playful. “He’s already got your appetite,” she teased, glancing at Scar with a lighthearted wink. 

Scar let out a low chuckle, his grin wide. “Guess I can’t let up then,” he said with a wink. “Let’s dig in.”

Ekko didn’t need to be told twice. 

—

Jinx didn’t know why she had followed Layla. Maybe it was curiosity, or perhaps a strange pull to witness something different from her usual life. When Layla had invited her to come see the baby while she fed him, Jinx had hesitated for a moment. But something in the warmth of the invitation had nudged her to follow.

The room was quiet, save for the soft murmur of Layla’s voice as she gently rocked the baby in her arms. Ryan was small and still, his tiny hands curled into delicate fists as he nursed. Jinx stood by the door, hesitant to intrude on such a private moment. She watched, her usual guarded expression softening as she observed the peaceful scene.

Layla noticed her standing there, a knowing smile on her face. “Don’t be shy. Come closer,” she said gently, motioning for Jinx to join her.

Jinx hesitated but took a step forward, her fingers brushing against the edge of the empty crib as she slowly approached. The sight of the tiny baby, his innocent face a picture of calm, was a stark contrast to the wild world Jinx usually inhabited.

She swallowed, unsure of what to say. “He’s… small,” she said, her voice almost uncertain, as if unsure how to react to such softness.

Layla chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “He is. But trust me, he’s got a loud voice when he wants to use it.”

Jinx didn’t quite know how to respond to that. She wasn’t used to the gentleness of the moment, the quiet life of a family. It was something foreign, something she had never really been part of. All she had known was constant motion, constant displacement. For a moment, she felt a tight knot in her chest, something that tugged at her heart—an emotion she couldn’t quite place, but it was unmistakable. 

Was it longing? Loss? Maybe both.

As Layla rocked Ryan, her movements slow and steady, a quiet rhythm that seemed to echo in the room, their eyes met. No words were exchanged, but Jinx felt it—an unspoken connection, a bond so simple yet so profound. The calmness between mother and child, the love that flowed naturally and without effort, was a stark contrast to the turbulence that often churned within Jinx.

She couldn’t remember her mother’s love—only fragmented moments from when she was too small to fully understand. What remained was the feeling, the void, and the quiet ache of loss. But in that moment, Jinx felt a strange, aching stirring inside her as her mind couldn’t help but drift towards her sister, the one who had stepped in after their mother’s absence, who had tried so hard to fill every role: sister, father, and mother all at once. After Vander’s death, the weight of that responsibility had only grown heavier.

Jinx could feel it now—the suffocating heaviness of a bond strained by time and the unspoken tension between them. The thought of her sister brought an unexpected urge to reach out, to close the growing distance. But the impulse was tangled, wrapped in too many emotions to sort through, each one pulling her in a different direction. She wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap, how to start the conversation when the space between them felt so vast, so uncertain.

Uncomfortable with the emotions that kept bubbling up, Jinx shifted, trying to escape the quiet stillness of the room. The peace, the calm, felt like a suffocating contrast to the restlessness she couldn’t shake. She cleared her throat, a simple attempt to break the tension, to push away the gnawing feeling of being out of place.

“So, uh…” she began, her voice more tentative than usual. “He sleeps a lot, huh?”

Layla smiled at her attempt to break the silence. “He does. But not for long,” she replied, her tone soft with affection. “Babies are a handful, but they’re worth it.”

Jinx’s gaze softened as she watched Ryan, her arms folded across her chest. There was a certain innocence in the way Layla held him, in the quiet moments of feeding and care, that Jinx couldn’t quite explain. It felt like a world she had never fully known.

Layla glanced at her, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You two look so cute together, by the way.”

Jinx blinked, momentarily thrown off, and refocused on the scene in front of her. “I’m sorry?”

Layla’s face flushed a shade of pink, realizing what she had just said. “Oh, wait, are you and Ekko not…?”

Jinx felt a sudden warmth rush to her head, her words coming out a little more awkwardly than she intended. “No, we’re not… like that,” she replied, offering a small shrug to downplay the situation.

Layla’s cheeks reddened further. “Oh! I didn’t mean to make things weird,” she said with a nervous laugh, her eyes wide in apology. “It’s just, you two seem really close, and he was just so caring I thought…”

Jinx shook her head. “It’s okay. We get that sometimes,” she reassured.

But Layla’s expression didn’t quite relax. She bit her lip, clearly still uneasy, which made Jinx stitch her brows in confusion.

After a beat of hesitation, Layla finally spoke, her voice lower now. “We only have one spare room…”

“Oh,” Jinx responded as she blinked hard, realization settling in. But she quickly shook herself as she tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

—

Ekko stood in the room with a single queen size bed, glancing down at the luggage by his feet. The weight of the situation felt heavier than the bags themselves. 

Scar. It had to be him. 

He had to have conveniently forgotten to mention that they didn’t have another room.

Ekko clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to glare at the floor. Scar—he had to have left that little detail out on purpose, no doubt grinning from ear to ear while they were left to sort out the mess. It was so typical of him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing as he tried to ignore the awkwardness settling in.

“Now what was all that stuff from Scar about earlier?” Jinx’s voice floated in from behind him, smooth and teasing.

Ekko froze, his breath catching in his throat. He cleared it quickly, keeping his focus on the bed in front of him. “I think we have more pressing concerns, don’t you think?”

“What? The bed?” Jinx’s tone was playful, a hint of amusement. “Don’t worry, little man. I won’t bite.” She paused, the mischief in her voice sharpening. “Unless you want me to.”

Ekko let out a strained sigh, turning his head toward her. He caught her playful gaze, doing his best to suppress the flush creeping up his neck.

Instantly, he regretted it.

Jinx stood there, her hair damp, clinging to her neck and shoulders, and for a brief moment, the image of her was imprinted in his mind. She tilted her head to the side, letting her hair fall before she brought a small towel to her head, wrapping it around and squeezing out the moisture, completely unaware of the way his thoughts scrambled.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he muttered, his voice a little tighter than he’d intended. He could still see the dampness of her figure, the way her clothes clung to her curves. It was distracting, and he desperately tried to focus on anything else, anything but her.

Jinx chuckled, her laughter light and airy, but there was something in the way her eyes glinted that made Ekko wonder if she was actually teasing him—or if she was simply enjoying pushing his buttons. She tilted her head back upright, her hair still wrapped in the towel, now perched on her head like a crown. 

Ekko quickly turned away, his mind desperately trying to banish the image of her pale neck from his thoughts. 

Jinx stepped closer. “You sure about the floor?” she asked, despite the playfulness, there was a tone of worry. “The floor looks awfully hard.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, more firmly this time, though it came out a little sharper than he intended. He quickly turned to face her, forcing a smile. “I’ve slept on worse.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on him, as if sensing the tension that was building between them. 

She stepped another step slowly, a playful shrug lifting her shoulders. “It’s not like it’s even our first time,” she teased, her grin wide but tempered by a softness in her eyes that Ekko hadn’t seen before. Then, with a casual ease, she reached up and placed her arm around his shoulder, leaning in just enough to make his pulse quicken. “The bed’s looks so inviting doesn’t it?” she asked, as she dramatically gestured to the bed with her free arm.

Ekko’s breath caught, the proximity of her touch sending a shiver down his spine. Despite the casualness of it, the effect it had on him was far from casual. His heart began to thump erratically, his mind struggling to focus on anything other than the way she pressed against him through the thin fabric of her pajamas. Every inch of him seemed hyper-aware of her, of where they were touching, and the way her presence seemed to fill the space around them.

He forced himself to keep his breathing steady, trying desperately not to betray the inner chaos stirring beneath the surface. But when no words came from him, Jinx turned fully to face him, her brow furrowing slightly in quiet curiosity, as though she had expected some reaction, some retort from him.

Ekko quickly cleared his throat, hoping to break the tension. “I should wash too,” he managed, his voice coming out a little rougher than he’d intended. He shifted away from her, his body almost protesting the loss of warmth, but he forced himself to move toward his luggage, feeling the cool distance growing between them.

“Yeah, good idea,” Jinx replied. Her voice seemed a touch higher than usual, but Ekko couldn’t tell over his beating heart. 

He pulled out his towel, clothes and toiletries before turning toward the bathroom. But before he was out the door he gave a final glance back, only to find her eyes fixed on him, her expression unreadable. His stomach twisted under her gaze, but he quickly looked away, trying to ignore the way his heart was still pounding.

He exhaled sharply as the door to the washroom clicked shut behind him. His head rested against it for a moment, his eyes closing as he tilted it back. The air was thick with steam, and he caught the faint, lingering scent of lavender, a reminder of her presence still hanging in the room.

With a shake of his head, he walked toward the sink, his feet dragging slightly as if he were trying to outrun the tension. Leaning against the cold marble, he studied his reflection in the mirror, finding it harder to focus than usual. His heartbeat had yet to settle, his mind racing in circles—her proximity, the way her touch lingered even after she pulled away.

He couldn’t afford to let himself go down this road. He knew he was overreacting. Jinx had always been careless with her touches—playful, teasing, but never anything more. It meant nothing. He couldn’t afford to read too much into it. He couldn’t let his thoughts spiral, turning what was just her usual behavior into something more—especially tonight of all nights. 

But even as he told himself that, his pulse betrayed him, thumping in his chest at the memory of the way she had leaned into him, the warmth of her body pressing against his. He could still feel it. Still feel her .

With a low growl he splashed cold water onto his face. “Get it together.”

Chapter Text

When Ekko returned to the room, he had hoped the lights would be off, Jinx already asleep. But as usual, luck was not on his side. She was sprawled across the bed, flicking through her phone.

Their eyes briefly met as he stepped inside, and she immediately sat up, her posture a mix of curiosity and teasing.

“Took your sweet time,” Jinx remarked, her voice light but laced with that familiar mischievous edge.

Ekko couldn’t help but let out a quiet breath, his body still tense from the earlier encounter. He closed the door behind him, trying to shake off the last remnants of the awkwardness that had followed him from the washroom.

“Water was nice,” he muttered, tossing his towel onto the chair. He tried to sound casual.

Jinx snorted. “Sure, buddy.”

Ekko chose to ignore her retort, focusing instead on the task of shoving his things back into his bag. The motion was more about keeping his hands busy than any real need to organize. He could feel Jinx’s eyes on him, but he refused to let it distract him.

“You really going to sleep on the floor?” Jinx asked from behind him.

Ekko didn’t look back, keeping his attention firmly on the task in front of him. “Yeah,” he muttered, the word more final than he intended. He hoped the bluntness of his answer would discourage any further conversation.

Jinx didn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, Ekko thought maybe she had let it go. But then, her footsteps came closer, and he felt her presence at his side.

“Ekko,” she said quietly, a rare softness in her voice, “it’s just… you don’t have to, y’know. You can stay on the bed if you want.”

Ekko’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his focus on his bag, unwilling to look at her. He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to reply without sounding weak. “I’m fine,” he muttered again, his voice rougher this time, hoping that would end it.

“I’ll sleep on the floor, and you can sleep on the bed,” Jinx said casually, her tone almost too nonchalant.

Ekko turned sharply at her words, his chest tightening. “What? No.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching with amusement. “And why not?”

Ekko faltered for a moment, frustration building. “You just can’t.”

Jinx’s grin widened. “Oh, really? I seem to recall someone saying that’s not a reason.” She took a step closer, her gaze challenging. “What’s the real reason?”

Ekko’s lips parted to retort but his voice caught in his throat. 

Jinx tilted her head, her voice softening just slightly. “I really don’t mind sleeping in the same bed,” she said, almost too casually. “But if you really can’t stomach the idea of sleeping next to disgusting old me, then I’ll sleep on the floor.” She let the words hang in the air, her eyes searching his, waiting for a response.

Ekko let out a sigh, resigned. “You won’t let this go will you.”

“Not a chance,” Jinx replied. “So, what’s it gonna be, little man? Floor or bed?” She crossed her arms, the challenge still lingering in her posture.

“Okay, fine, we sleep on the perfectly fine bed.”

Jinx’s grin spread wider, satisfaction in her eyes. “Good choice,” she said, her tone light but teasing. She stepped back with a flourish, clearly pleased with herself. “I knew you’d come around.”

Ekko rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”

“Of course I do, I always do,” Jinx said with a satisfied nod. “Now turn the lights off. I’m tired.”

Ekko let out a breath,, shaking his head as he reached over and turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness, the only sound the rustle of blankets as Jinx settled in.

As he made his way to the bed, he could feel her eyes still on him, but he kept his focus ahead, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest.

“Night, little man,” Jinx’s voice floated through the darkness, light and playful.

“Goodnight, Jinx,” Ekko muttered, but he knew as he said it that sleep wasn’t going to find him easily.

And he was right—his mind was wide awake, overly alert to every little movement Jinx made beside him. Her shifts in the bed, the soft rustle of blankets, all seemed magnified in the silence of the room. He lay there, stiff and restless, trying to find a comfortable position, but the whirl of his thoughts made it impossible to relax.

Gradually, he could hear her breathing slow, becoming soft and even. It created a calm rhythm, offering a sliver of peace amidst the tension. But even then, his mind refused to quiet. It felt like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, every thought swirling, waiting to break free.

He considered moving to the floor, slipping out of bed while she slept. It would be so easy. But just as he was about to shift away, she moved. Her body pressed against his, her head finding a place on his chest. Her arms lazily draped over him, pulling him into her warmth.

Ekko froze, a jolt of surprise coursing through him. He cursed inwardly for missing his chance, but as she snuggled into him, something shifted. His body almost instinctively relaxed into her embrace. It felt right, like she fit there perfectly, the tension in his chest unwinding in a way he hadn’t expected.

His heart raced, his mind whirling with confusion, but he couldn’t help it. Not really. Even his willpower waned in her embrace. He let out a quiet breath, his arms moving to wrap around her gently as she settled in. Her steady breathing on top of him, the warmth of her body—it was a strange comfort, something he didn’t realize how much he had needed.

Maybe it was okay to be a little greedy, just for tonight. To let himself enjoy the feeling of her next to him. To be close, if only for this fleeting moment. Trick himself into believing this was the norm. How it was meant to be and always was.

That couldn’t hurt, right?

—

When Jinx woke the next morning, the world felt softer than usual, quieter. It took her a moment to register the steady, rhythmic sound beneath her ear—the beat of a heart, strong and steady, accompanied by the soft, even breaths of someone asleep. The warmth against her cheek wasn’t just the blanket but something far more solid.

Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the muted light filtering through the curtains, and she froze as reality settled in. Ekko. He was beside her, his left arm tucked beneath her head like it had always belonged there.

Somewhere during the night, she’d shifted closer to him, her body curling naturally into his chest. His warmth was almost magnetic, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing was strangely calming, a rhythm that seemed to quiet the usual noise in her mind.

She lay still for a moment, staring at the curve of his jaw, watching the way the soft morning light painted his face. Peaceful. Unbothered. The sight stirred something unfamiliar in her, a gentle flutter that made her chest feel tight and light all at once.

What was she doing?

Jinx carefully shifted, trying not to disturb him, but as her hand brushed against his, a spark raced through her, warm and startling. She quickly pulled her hand back, biting her lip to suppress the grin threatening to betray her.

This was ridiculous.

She wasn’t supposed to get greedy.

The thought sounded odd even in her own mind, considering she’d been the one to insist he sleep in the bed with her. But she wasn’t about to let him spend the night on the hardwood floor just because he was worried about her comfort. No way. Which was one thousand percent what he was doing. That stupid hero complex of his. So, really, this wasn’t her fault if she indulged in the moment just a little. Platonic snuggling never killed anyone, right?

Sitting up, she tucked her legs beneath her, glancing back at him as he slept. His face was so relaxed, so different from the usual serious energy he carried. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer than she intended, that flutter in her chest growing stronger.

Shaking her head, she forced herself to move. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood carefully, grabbing her bag of toiletries without making a sound.

As the door clicked softly shut behind her, she let out a quiet laugh, unable to help herself. This was the second time she’d ended up in his bed and the second time she found herself sneaking out before he woke.

“Guess I’m making a habit of this,” she muttered to herself, the corners of her lips tugging upward despite her efforts to keep them in check.

The thought brought a strange warmth to her chest as she headed for the bathroom, her fingers brushing the cool handle of the door. Her mind kept replaying the calm of the morning—the steady breathing, the warmth she wasn’t quite ready to admit she’d miss.

As the mirror reflected her faint grin, Jinx shook her head again, her tone soft but teasing as she whispered to herself, “Get it together.” 

But the grin remained all the same. 

—

“It was good to see you, Ekko,” Scar said to Ekko as he pulled him into a brief embrace. 

Ekko clapped his old friend on the back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, it was nice to catch up. I’ll try to not let it be this long next time.”

Layla stepped closer, cradling little Ryan in her arms, her expression warm and sincere. “Please come again,” she said, her eyes flicking between him and Jinx. “Both of you.”

Ekko caught the subtle shift in Jinx’s posture beside him. She hesitated for just a moment, as if unsure how to respond. Her eyes flicked toward him, and he noticed the brief flicker of surprise there—maybe she hadn’t expected the invitation to include her, or maybe she was unsure how to navigate the unfamiliar kindness.

Either way, he found himself speaking before the silence stretched. “We will,” he said, the promise easy and natural as it left his lips. “Keep in touch,”  he added with a firm nod, turning toward the car. 

He glanced back one last time, offering Scar and Layla a final wave. Jinx gave them a quick nod, and then, as if to avoid lingering any longer, she followed him to the car.

Once inside, Ekko slid into the driver’s seat, the engine rumbling to life. He glanced over to make sure Jinx was settled before shifting the car into gear.

“They’re great, aren’t they?” he asked, his tone casual but warm as they pulled out onto the road.

Jinx turned her head slightly, looking at him before responding. “Yeah,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “They are.”

Ekko’s hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel, a faint smile crossing his lips. “Scar’s a bit of a busy body but he’s endearing.”

Jinx snorted next to him. “You saying that will not be not funny.”

He shot her a sideways glance, his smile widening. “Are you calling me a busybody?”

“Are you denying it, boy savior ?”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head as his grip on the steering wheel relaxed a little. “I don’t know what could’ve given you that impression.”

Jinx smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. You swoop in, fix things, make people happy. Sounds pretty busybody to me.”

“Scar’s a busybody because he’s nosy,” Ekko countered, side-eyeing her with a playful grin. “I just… help when I can.”

“Sure, sure,” she said with a shrug, her grin widening. “But if the shoe fits…”

He groaned again, this time more dramatically. “You're a real charmer you know that?”

She smirked, leaning back with a smug expression. “You invited me on this trip, remember? So, really, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

He shot her a mock glare but couldn’t hold back the laugh bubbling up. “Touché.”

“Now that we’ve got that settled,” she said, turning her head toward him with a playful glint in her eyes. “What’s the next stop?”

Ekko glanced at her, his smile returning. “There’s a waterfall nearby. The hike up to it is supposed to be nice.”

Jinx smirked faintly. “You and your nature walks.”

“You’ll thank me when you see it,” he countered, his tone teasing as the road stretched ahead of them.

—

“That’s it?” Jinx’s voice was tinged with disbelief, her eyes scanning the cascade of water spilling over moss-covered rocks.

“What do you mean, that’s it ?” Ekko raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“We trekked through this forest for over an hour just to see a fall,” she said, gesturing dramatically at the waterfall like it had personally insulted her.

Ekko huffed a breath, shaking his head. “That’s literally what I said—a waterfall .”

“Yeah, but—I don’t know—I expected something…bigger,” Jinx replied, her tone hovering between disappointment and teasing.

Ekko rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “What, were you hoping for a secret jungle city or some kind of hidden treasure chest?”

Jinx shrugged, smirking. “Would’ve been nice. This feels like a lot of effort for a glorified faucet.”

Ekko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Does the journey mean nothing to you?”

“Not a thing,” Jinx let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the clearing. “Admit it, Ekko. You kind of oversold this one.”

He glanced at the waterfall, then back at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know what? Fine. Next time, I’ll pick a mountain with explosions or something. But for now,” he gestured toward the water, “just try to appreciate the serenity, alright?”

Jinx rolled her eyes but let her grin soften. “Fine. Serenity or whatever. But only because I like the sound of the word.”

“You’re such a pain,” he said, but he couldn’t hide the laugh underneath his voice. 

“Once again,” she shot back with a wink, settling onto a nearby rock in front of the waterfall and leaning back, “you invited me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I have myself to blame and all.” 

Jinx flashed him a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She patted the empty space next to her on the rock. “Come sit.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow but complied. He moved to sit next to her, but as soon as he did, Jinx’s arm shot around his head, pulling him close.

“What are you—” he started, surprised by the sudden proximity.

“Now smile!” Jinx interrupted, her voice bright with excitement. Ekko barely could even register what was happening and lifted his head, her phone was in her hand, camera app open, and she snapped a picture of them together.

Ekko blinked in surprise, his face still a little scrunched from the shock of it all. “A little warning next time?”

She held up the phone, showing him the picture with a proud grin. “Perfect. You’re welcome. It’s a rare sight—a genuine Ekko smile.”

Ekko's gaze narrowed at the photo, his lips twitching into a reluctant smirk. “That’s not a smile, it’s a grimace,” he remarked, inspecting the image with mock disapproval.

Jinx laughed, completely unfazed by his teasing. “It’s a smile in my books, and that’s all that matters,” she said, her grin widening as she zoomed in on the picture. “Look at those eyes, full of joy.”

Ekko sighed, shaking his head. “Whatever you say.”

“Come on, Ekko,” she teased, glancing back at the screen. “Just appreciate the moment. I know you secretly love it.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Okay, fine. Maybe I don’t hate it.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” Jinx replied, her tone smug as she leaned back, still clutching her phone. Her grin widened as her eyes lingered on the screen, studying the photo with a goofy satisfaction that lit up her face.

“You really like the picture that much?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, grin persisting, tilting the phone to admire her work from another angle. “This one’s going in the hall of fame. Right next to that time I got you to wear a flower crown.”

He groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Jinx quipped, finally lowering the phone. She turned to face him, her expression shifting seamlessly from playful to matter-of-fact. “Now, I’m hungry.”

If the sudden shift surprised Ekko, it didn’t show. “There’s supposed to be a nice seafood place by the shoreline,” Ekko said thoughtfully.

“Ugh, seafood,” Jinx said, sticking out her tongue. “Next.”

“What? You’re not even going to entertain it?”

“Not even a little,” she replied with a smirk.

Ekko sighed, leveling her with a look. “They have a kids’ menu.”

Jinx tilted her head, her expression softening just enough to show she was considering it. “Okay, fine,” she relented, pointing a finger at him. “But that kids’ menu better include chicken nuggets.”

Ekko shrugged as he stood up, brushing dirt off his hands before offering one to her. “Maybe. Guess we’ll find out.”

Jinx’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she studied his outstretched hand. “The blood will be on your hands if they don’t,” she warned dramatically, but there was a playful lilt in her voice as she finally grabbed his hand, letting him pull her to her feet.

“I’ll take full responsibility,” Ekko replied dryly as he let her hand go. Jinx fought the urge to frown at the sudden loss of its warmth, shoving her hands into her pockets instead.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as they started walking. “Better hope they’ve got nuggets. Otherwise, I’m not letting you hear the end of it.”

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “As if you ever let me off easy.”

—

Ekko almost let out a sigh of relief when he found chicken nuggets listed under the kids’ menu at the restaurant. He glanced up to see Jinx grinning at him from across the table, clearly pleased with her small victory.

“You’re lucky, space boy,” she teased, leaning back in her chair with a smug expression.

Ekko chuckled but kept his eyes fixed on the menu, trying to mask his amusement. “Just order already,” he muttered.

“Bonjour, monsieur et mademoiselle. I am David, your server for the afternoon. Are you ready to order, or shall I give you more time?” David the waiter inquired as he approached their table. He was a stout man with a thick, unmistakably French accent, his warm gaze shifting between them.

Ekko nodded, scanning the menu one last time for confirmation. “We’ll have the seafood platter,” he began, then hesitated, clearing his throat. “And… the chicken nuggets.”

The waiter’s polite smile twitched, betraying just the faintest flicker of amusement. “But of course,” he replied smoothly, as though this combination were the most natural thing in the world.

“Anything for you the two of you drink on this wonderful date?” the waiter added, his tone light and casual.

Ekko stiffened, his hand halfway to his water glass. “Actually, we’re not—”

Before he could finish, Jinx cut in smoothly, handing over her menu with a grin that didn’t miss a beat. “The water will be fine, thanks,” she said, her voice casual as if nothing had been said at all.

The waiter nodded with a wink, clearly taking her calm demeanor as confirmation of his assumption. “Très bien. I shall return shortly with your orders.” He turned on his heels and left the two of them.

Ekko turned to Jinx, his expression narrowing as his brows furrowed in thought.

“What?” Jinx asked. “I can be satisfied with just water too, you know.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jinx casually shrugged. “There’s no point correcting it,” she said, not meeting his eyes as she drummed her fingers on the table. “It’s not like it matters.”

Ekko opened his mouth to reply, but Jinx was already rising from her seat, cutting him off before he could speak. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a grin, the same grin that always seemed to hold a hidden edge of mischief. As she pushed her chair back with a soft squeak and made her way toward the washroom, her glance lingered on him for just a second longer than usual, leaving a trail of uncertainty in the air.

Ekko watched her leave, his thoughts a swirl of unanswered questions. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion that seemed to settle over him with every passing moment. The brief exchange felt… different, but he couldn’t place why.

He let out a sharp exhale as Jinx disappeared around the corner, the hallway leading to the washroom now empty. The low hum of the restaurant—the clink of silverware, the murmur of distant conversations—did little to drown out the noise inside his head. He had told himself a thousand times not to read into things, not to put any weight on her actions.

Nothing was as cruel as hope after all. 

He knew that better than anyone. Still, as he sat there, the empty seat across from him felt strangely heavy.

Chapter Text

“Okay, that was actually good,” Jinx admitted with a satisfied grin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She leaned back in her chair, clearly pleased with herself.

Ekko sat opposite her, still holding his fork, his expression showing zero amusement. His lips were thin, pressed into a tight line, as he glanced at the plate that had once been his. “You should’ve ordered it too if you were going to steal all my food,” he remarked dryly, his tone betraying nothing, though there was the faintest flicker of exasperation in his eyes.

Jinx raised an eyebrow and gave him an innocent shrug. “I didn’t steal it. You just… weren’t eating fast enough,” she teased, her grin widening as she leaned back further, clearly enjoying herself.

“Uh huh,” Ekko muttered, his tone flat.

Jinx paused, glancing down at her plate before pushing a few chicken nuggets toward him. “Here, you can have some of my nuggets,” she offered, as if that would help diffuse the situation.

Ekko shook his head, not even sparing the nuggets a glance. “I don’t want nuggets.”

Jinx blinked, her expression exaggerated with shock. “How can you not want nuggets?”

Ekko sighed, leaning back in his chair with a defeated air. “I should’ve expected this,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Stealing food is such a Jinx classic.”

“Yeah, clearly this is your fault,” Jinx nodded almost too eagerly. “I’m blameless, really.”

Ekko didn’t even bother answering, only signalling to the waiter for the bill. 

Jinx leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself as she watched Ekko signal for the bill. “Oh, come on, you’re not really mad about this, are you?” she teased, her voice dripping with playful innocence.

Ekko glanced at her, his expression still a mix of frustration and amusement. “No, I’m not mad,” he said dryly. “Just disappointed.”

Her eyes widened in mock horror. “Disappointed?” she echoed, her voice playful. “Oh, now you’ve really hurt my feelings.”

Ekko rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be sure to apologize when I get over it,” he shot back, his tone light.

“Mm, I’ll hold you to that,” Jinx replied, a grin spreading across her face. She glanced down at the plate of remaining nuggets. “You sure you don’t want just one? They’re really good.”

Ekko only shook his head as the waiter walked up to their table. 

“Would you like your bill together or separate?” David asked, his thick accent adding a touch of warmth to his polite tone.

Ekko glanced at Jinx, then back at the waiter. “Together,” he answered without missing a beat, before Jinx could protest.

The waiter nodded, before turning to retrieve the check.

Jinx’s gaze narrowed on Ekko. “You know, I’m not the one unemployed,” Jinx commented. 

“I’m not the struggling artist,” Ekko responded simply with a casual shrug.

“That’s a side gig,” she shot back, though her voice lowered a touch, as if questioning his choices. “You sure you can be spending like this?”

Ekko smirked, leaning back in his chair. “One of the many benefits of having been paid in USD,” he replied, voice dripping with playful arrogance. “If you’re jealous, you should try it sometime.”

Jinx snorted, sticking out her tongue in exaggerated distaste. “Jealous of you? Not a chance.”

“You know,” Ekko said, tilting his head, “you could just thank me.”

Jinx grabbed her jacket from the empty seat beside her, draping it over her shoulder as she gave him a pointed sidelong look. “Oh, sure. Thanks for swooping in to save me from a bill I could totally afford.”

Ekko ignored the sarcasm dripping from her words, a grin tugging at his lips. “Now, was that so hard?”

Jinx opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself when she noticed the waiter nearing their table. 

“Here is the bill,” the waiter said with a polite smile, setting it down on the table. “Cash or card?”

“Card,” Ekko replied without hesitation.

“Excellent,” the waiter said, his grin widening as he handed over the card reader. “I hope everything was to your taste.”

“It was perfect, thank you,” Ekko answered smoothly, tapping his card against the reader. A soft beep confirmed the transaction, and the waiter gave a satisfied nod.

“That is good to hear,” the waiter replied and took the card reader back. “Would you like a receipt with that?”

“No, that's alright,” Ekko said with a shake of his head. 

“Wonderful, I hope the two of you have a wonderful rest of your date,” the waiter said with a smile.

This time Ekko did not correct him. And that made Jinx’s heart skip a beat. 

—

Jinx sat on the weathered log by the edge of the beach, legs tucked beneath her, absorbed in her sketchbook. The pencil moved quickly across the paper, the soft scratching sound mingling with the distant rhythm of the waves. She focused intently on the horizon, her pencil tracing the fading pinks and oranges of the early evening sky. Each stroke grew more deliberate, more precise, as she poured herself into the simplicity of the scene.

It was a welcome reprieve, however fleeting.

Her thoughts had been anything but quiet lately, especially after the second time in as many days that people had assumed she and Ekko were… something. More than friends. More than whatever they were. It wasn’t supposed to matter—it wasn’t a big deal, not really. They’d heard those kinds of comments their entire friendship, just passing remarks that usually she let roll right off her.

But this time was different.

This time, it lingered.

The idea settled in her mind like an itch she couldn’t quite reach, impossible to ignore. Worse still, a part of her didn’t want to ignore it. A part of her reveled in it, the way they’d been mistaken for something closer, something more. She couldn’t even explain what had come over her at the restaurant—why she’d leaned into the charade, let it play out longer than necessary.

She told herself it was all for a laugh, to keep up appearances, but the truth nagged at her, unwelcome and insistent.

She liked it.

The thought was unsettling, pulling her in directions she wasn’t ready to explore. It led to questions she didn’t want to answer, feelings she wasn’t ready to face. Did she dare to hope? To think that maybe, just maybe, this could be something more?

Her pencil stilled for a moment, hovering over the page as her chest tightened. She stared at the half-finished sketch, the horizon still incomplete, and swallowed hard.

Could she even deserve this?

The idea felt indulgent, selfish even, like a dream she had no right to chase.

It was safer to stay where they were. Friends. Always friends. If she kept things simple, nothing had to change. No risks, no complications. No chance of losing what they had. No risk of losing him. 

But the more she tried to hold onto that simplicity, the more complicated it seemed to get.

She shook her head and forced herself to focus again, her hand continuing its motion across the page. But the frustration remained. The more she pushed it away, the more it crept back. It was getting old, this constant battle of trying not to feel something deeper.

Her pencil resumed its motion, the lines coming together in a way that felt both deliberate and erratic. She tried to focus, to drown out the noise in her head, but the questions persisted.

What if?

The thought hung in the air, just out of reach, tantalizing in its simplicity and terrifying in its implications. What if he felt it too? What if the glances, the quiet moments between them, meant more than she dared to hope?

To everyone else, the answer seemed obvious. Their connection looked effortless, natural, like it had always been more than just friendship.

So why wasn’t it obvious to her?

“Here.”

Jinx looked up, startled for a moment before her gaze softened when she saw Ekko standing in front of her, a cup of warm coffee extended toward her. His eyes held the same quiet understanding that had become so familiar between them. She reached out, taking the cup with a grateful nod, the warmth of it a welcome contrast to the cool breeze off the water.

“Thanks,” she murmured, her voice a little quieter than usual. She placed her sketchbook carefully to the side, tucking her pencil behind her ear as she brought the cup closer, letting the steam curl against her face.

Ekko stood there for a moment, his hands in his pockets as he glanced at the horizon she had been sketching. “It’s coming together,” he commented casually, his tone light but with a hint of appreciation.

Jinx glanced down at her drawing, studying it with a small, satisfied smile. “Yeah it’s no canvas but… it’s not bad,” she replied.

She brought the cup of coffee to her lips, the warmth sinking into her, before her eyes flicked back to Ekko. “Okay, you didn’t oversell it this time. The beach is actually nice.”

Ekko’s grin spread wide, his expression playful. “My calendar is about to get full with you agreeing with me so much.”

Jinx shot him a playful glare, her smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Don’t push it, buster.”

Ekko laughed and leaned against the log, his grin not fading. “Was worth a try,” he said, his voice light, but there was something softer in his gaze as he looked out over the water. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, though.”

Jinx let out a satisfied sigh as she took another sip from her coffee. “Okay, that’s enough sitting,” she said, stuffing her sketchbook back into her bag.

“What? I just got here,” Ekko protested as he didn’t budge.

“Awfully, sounds like a you problem,” she replied, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She reached for Ekko’s hand with her free hand, pulling him to his feet with a small tug.

Ekko blinked, stumbling slightly as he caught up with her. “What’s going on?” His voice, once light, now carried an edge of concern.

“We’re walking to the pier, whether you like it or not.” 

—

Ekko stared at their clasped hands, his fingers curling instinctively around hers as Jinx tugged him along the beach. His mind scattered in a thousand directions, all attempts at analysis dissolving the moment their hands intertwined. He tried to focus on something—anything—other than the warmth of her touch, but the more he tried, the harder it became. The connection between them felt too easy, too natural, and it unsettled him in a way he couldn’t explain.

It felt so right. Too right.

Their steps matched unconsciously, moving in an effortless rhythm. Each stride seemed to close the space between them, and yet Ekko felt like he was teetering on the edge of something vast and unknown. His eyes flicked to her profile, catching the way the fading sunlight kissed her features, turning her edges soft and golden.

He looked away quickly, unwilling to linger. If he stared too long, he might forget how to breathe.

Instead, he tried to anchor himself in the familiar: the pull of the tide, the distant cry of gulls, the crisp scent of salt in the air. Yet none of it helped. The connection between them felt as solid as the stones beneath the sand, and the weight of it threatened to pull him under.

Jinx, on the other hand, was a study in ease. Her energy buzzed lightly, her steps playful as she half-skipped, half-walked, tugging him along as if they were chasing some invisible adventure. She laughed at nothing, her joy infectious in a way that made him smile despite the storm building inside him.

She only slowed when they reached the end of the pier. The soft glow of the last remnants of sunlight bathed them in a gentle, golden light, casting a warm hue over the water that stretched out before them. They paused at the edge, their hands still clasped, the moment hanging between them like a fragile thread. Jinx’s gaze turned toward the horizon, her profile soft in the fading light. Ekko followed her gaze, trying to steady his racing heart.

Without thinking, he squeezed her hand gently, just enough to reassure himself that she was still there, still real. The warmth of her skin, the subtle pressure of her fingers against his—it all felt undeniable, like the universe had placed them there for a reason.

She squeezed back.

His heart almost stopped. 

It was a small thing. A fleeting gesture. But it was everything. 

His pulse quickened, his thoughts scattered in every direction. Could he confess? The timing wasn’t right. What if he ruined everything? What if he said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing? He had promised himself not to try to do it again after all. The flood of doubts rushed over him, and for a moment, he almost retreated into silence, letting the moment slip away as he always had before.

But then the weight of the moment hit him—the warm glow of the sunset, the steady rhythm of the waves, the quiet of the oncoming evening wrapping around them. And most of all, Jinx’s presence beside him, her hand still holding his. Everything seemed to align, and it felt like the universe was telling him that this was the moment. The timing was never going to be perfect. Maybe that was the point.

His pulse hammered in his ears as he turned toward her, his mouth opening to speak. But no words came. The silence between them hung heavy, as thick as the evening mist. She hadn’t pulled away. She hadn’t run. She was still here, and that alone made everything both harder and clearer.

Jinx shifted slightly, glancing at him with a curious tilt of her head. She didn’t speak, just watched him patiently, as if waiting for him to find his voice.

And in that moment, it felt like everything was suddenly so obvious.

“Hey, Jinx—”

But before he could say another word, her phone buzzed loudly, cutting through the silence. Jinx pulled it out of her pocket hastily, her cheeks flushing a little as she glanced between her phone and Ekko. The moment shattered, and Ekko’s heart sank.

Jinx bit her lip, her eyes flickering nervously. “It’s Babbette,” she said, looking at her phone. “Probably something to do with the house.”

Ekko cleared his throat, forcing a casual tone. “Take it, then. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx gave him a quick smile, the kind that always seemed to carry a secret between them, before she stepped away, lifting the phone to her ear. Ekko watched her, his heart still pounding in his chest, the moment slipping away like sand through his fingers. Another missed chance, another “what if” added to the pile of others that had built up over time.

—

Jinx’s heart was hammering in her ears as she accepted the call from Babbette, stepping a little further from Ekko’s reach. She wasn’t blind to the shift in the air between them—the subtle weight of unsaid words, the charged silence that had hung between them ever since they’d set foot on the pier. What was Ekko trying to say? Her heart kept telling her it had to be something important—something big. A confession. The thought made her pulse spike.

“Hello, dear,” Babbette’s voice broke through the fog of her thoughts, and Jinx shook herself, trying to focus.

“Hello, Bab,” she replied, almost absentmindedly, the words slipping out without much thought. Her mind was still tangled in the moment with Ekko, his warm hand in hers, his eyes—his eyes. She couldn’t seem to shake the image of them, soft with something she couldn’t name.

“How are you doing, dear?” Babbette’s voice was light, but there was a hint of concern in it.

“Good,” Jinx answered quickly, her voice distant. She wasn’t sure if she even meant it. How was she doing? Was she good? Or was her heart screaming at her that something was about to change—something she wasn’t sure she was ready for?

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Babbette continued, oblivious to Jinx’s inner turmoil. “I was at your place earlier with the designer.”

“Mhm,” Jinx muttered, her mind still a mile away. She heard the words, but they didn’t register, it didn't matter in the haze of what-ifs crowding her thoughts. What was Ekko trying to say? Did he even mean to say something? Did he even realize what was hanging in the air between them?

If he was going to confess… If he was going to. She didn’t know what she would do with that. How she would react. She had never truly considered breaching the line called friendship. Never brave enough to venture through it. But if Ekko broke it first, that would be a different story.

Her heartbeat quickened at the thought. He was probably kicking himself for missing his chance. The thought almost made her laugh. If only he knew how badly he got her tangled up in all of this.

“Sorry for the late call, I just wasn’t sure if I should call you about it,” Babbette’s voice came again.

“It’s no problem,” Jinx said, her tone absent. She waved off the concern, even though all she just wanted to do was to get back. To him. If he wasn’t going to do it himself when she got back—when she could finally face him again—she was going to push him to. She needed to know if it was real. She needed to know what this was.

“Well,” Babbette continued, sounding almost apologetic, “I just found some medication that you may be missing. So I thought I should check in, if you still needed these. We need to clear the area for remodeling.”

Jinx blinked, her mind momentarily snapping to attention. “Huh?” Her brows furrowed as she processed the words. “What do you mean, ‘medication’?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Babbette replied, her voice tinny and uncertain. “I can’t read the labels very well with my old eyes, but they were just sitting out in the open. Thought I’d mention it.”

The words didn’t quite make sense at first, but then something clicked for Jinx. She had turned her kitchen inside out as she scrambled for ingredients before the fire. Haphazardly leaving all sorts of things laid out in a rush. Her heart lurched in her chest as she processed the details—the meals, the morning drives, the invitation to the trip.

“You know I’m always here for you? For anything.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and her stomach dropped. The truth hit her like a cold wave.

Ekko’s quiet insistence, his careful actions, the way he’d been hovering around her like she couldn’t take care of herself. He’d been trying to save her. The little things he’d done—all of it was just him playing at being her knight in shining armor. A pity project.

A stupid thing Ekko was doing because he thought she needed to be saved. The thought made her nauseous. It wasn’t anything real. It couldn’t be. 

She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t asked for him to think she needed saving.

She was fine.

She was fine.

And yet, the reality of it—his reality—sat heavy in her chest, the unease curling like smoke around her heart. The hope she’d been clinging to, that maybe—just maybe—there was something between them, felt like it was unraveling in the cold light of her mind. 

Jinx pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to stave off the sudden headache. The dread sank deep, every part of her wanting to deny it, but she couldn’t. Not anymore. She couldn’t pretend that what she’d hoped was true.

Ekko didn’t see her. Not really. He saw someone to fix.

That realization hit her hard. She had felt seen by him before. She had felt like he understood her, like he could reach the parts of her that even she couldn’t name. But now she felt like nothing more than a problem to be solved, a project to be completed.

The thought of it made her feel smaller, more invisible than she had in years. She couldn’t even bring herself to laugh at the cruel irony of it all. There was nothing funny about the sting in her chest. Nothing funny about realizing she had built something in her mind that had never truly existed.

She stared out at the water, her eyes unfocused as the waves lapped at the shore, trying to steady her breathing. Trying to find some kind of peace in all the noise in her mind. But it was harder than ever, the emptiness inside her only growing larger, more insistent.

Babbette’s voice came through again, but Jinx didn’t quite hear it. She felt distant from everything. She felt like she was standing on the edge of some new chapter she hadn’t asked for, one that had nothing to do with what she wanted.

“Thanks for letting me know, Babbette,” Jinx said, her voice quiet and detached. It was almost automatic, the words coming from her mouth without any real comprehension. She didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, didn’t care to. “I’ll take care of it.”

And with that, she hung up. 

A part of her wanted to storm back to Ekko, to confront him—shout, scream, lash out in anger. She wanted to say she didn’t need him to play savior, that she wasn’t some kind of charity work. But she couldn’t summon the energy. The fire inside her had burned out, leaving only a cold, exhausted numbness.

She let out a strained breath, her head tilting back as she stared at the sky. It was the same sky that just previously felt so full of promise, so full of beauty. Now, it only seemed to mock her. A constant reminder of something she couldn’t reach, couldn’t hold onto. Something that was never really hers to begin with.

Tears felt too far away. She was too tired for tears. Too tired to fight, too tired to scream, too tired to feel anything at all. All she wanted was to crawl into a hole somewhere, curl up, and sleep until everything felt distant enough to forget.

—

Ekko was leaning on the railing at the end of the pier, his eyes lost in the horizon when he heard the soft footsteps behind him. He didn’t turn, already sensing her presence. Jinx’s steps were quiet, almost hesitant. The air between them was thick, but he still didn’t know why.

When he finally turned around, his breath caught in his throat. Jinx’s expression was dark, her face drawn with exhaustion, and her gaze never met his. She stared down at the ground, avoiding his eyes like there was a weight she didn’t want him to see.

“Hey, you oka—” Ekko started, his voice gentle, but Jinx cut him off sharply.

“Fine,” she snapped, her voice as cold as the breeze sweeping over the pier.

Ekko frowned, his heart sinking a little at her tone. He instinctively stepped toward her, but before he could close the distance, Jinx raised a hand, the other rubbing at her temple like the weight of the world was pressing down on her.

“I’m tired,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to go home.”

Ekko opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat. “What—” he began, but once again, she interrupted him.

“I just—,” Jinx’s voice cracked slightly as she spoke, her frustration bleeding through, “I just want to go home.”

The words hit him like a cold splash of water. He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t understand why everything had shifted so quickly. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but they all seemed to blur together. Was it something he had done? Something he hadn’t? Was this about earlier—about the conversation they never had? Was it about them?

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he took in her tired eyes and clenched jaw. He felt the urge to press further, to push, to ask her what was wrong, what he had done or failed to do, but the moment wasn’t right. She wasn’t in the mood for it. She needed space, not questions.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice soft but steady, “let’s go home.”

Jinx didn’t respond. She simply turned and started walking toward the car, her pace quick and purposeful, though her shoulders were slumped with an invisible burden.

Ekko stood there for a long moment, watching her back, the distance between them growing with each step she took. His mind swirled with doubts and unanswered questions. Had those moments earlier—when the air had been thick with something unspoken—been real? Or had they been nothing more than fragments of a dream he wanted too much to believe in? 

Had it really just been his imagination?

Chapter Text

Ekko felt sick.

He felt physically sick. His stomach churned, and a cold sweat clung to his skin, leaving him with the kind of heavy, dragging sensation that turned every movement into a struggle. Every breath he took felt more labored than the last, as though the weight in his chest might crush him entirely.

The same walk across the pier that had felt electric and full of possibility only moments ago now seemed agonizingly long and winding. His limbs felt heavy, like they were waterlogged, each step harder than the last, as if the very act of moving forward was a punishment. 

Ahead of him, Jinx walked with a slow, swaying gait. Her shoulders were hunched, her frame drawn inward like she was shielding herself from the world. She didn’t glance back—not once—not to him and not even as she accidentally bumped into a passerby, muttering a half-hearted apology without breaking stride.

Ekko’s chest tightened, and the knife of guilt, of longing, twisted deeper into his gut. He wanted to call out to her, to close the gap and bridge whatever invisible chasm had opened between them. But his voice stayed caught in his throat, tangled with everything he didn’t know how to say.

And so, he walked behind her, his heart growing heavier with every step, as the distance between them stretched in more ways than one.

—

The first time Ekko tried confessing to Jinx was in freshman year of high school, not long after he realized what had always been there—his feelings for her. He had spent weeks building up the courage, rehearsing what he would say, how he would say it. He had decided that it was finally time to tell her. He asked her to meet him at their usual hangout spot, a small abandoned shack tucked away in the woods, the kind of place where they could be themselves away from the world. He had always liked it there, but that day, it felt different. He felt different.

He showed up early, his heart hammering in his chest. He had a flower tucked awkwardly behind him, his hands sweaty with anticipation. He wasn’t sure what kind of response he was hoping for—maybe just the relief of getting it off his chest, or maybe something more, something he wasn’t ready to admit. But he wasn’t sure if he was ready for what would come either.

When she arrived, bounding through the overgrown grass with excitement in her eyes, Ekko froze for a moment. The energy she carried with her was always contagious, and today was no exception. There was something else in her demeanor though—a look in her eyes that told him she had something big to say, something that she couldn’t wait to share.

He had been ready to say it. Ready to tell her how he felt. But instead of blurting it out, he stood there, silent, and allowed her to speak first. He couldn’t bring himself to stop her, not when she was so excited.

“You can go first,” Ekko had said, his voice strained despite his effort to sound casual. His heart thudded in his chest, louder than it had ever been before.

Jinx didn’t need any encouragement. She took a deep breath, her words spilling out quickly, almost desperately. She was talking about some guy named Drae—some guy she had met recently. He had confessed his feelings to her, and according to Jinx, he was handsome, sweet, perfect in every way. She was practically glowing, her face lighting up as she spoke about him, and Ekko could see how much it meant to her.

His stomach twisted with each word she spoke. The anticipation he had built up felt like it was crashing around him, each sentence a painful reminder of how out of reach she had always been. His heart flinched and jittered, like it was trying to escape from his chest, but he couldn’t look away. He was listening, but his mind wasn’t truly processing it. All he could think about was the flower still hidden behind him, the words that he had prepared now lost in the weight of her excitement.

By the time she finished and looked at him, eager for him to ask about what he wanted to say, Ekko felt a knot tighten in his throat. He opened his mouth, but the words never came. Not the words he had wanted to say. Instead, all he could manage was a small, awkward chuckle.

“I forgot,” he said, his voice cracking as he tried to play it off, quickly hiding the flower further behind his back, as though it had never existed.

Jinx didn’t seem to notice. She was too caught up in her own world, her new joy, to catch the way his heart was breaking in that moment. She smiled at him, oblivious to the depth of his feelings, and Ekko forced a smile in return.

“I’m happy for you,” he had said. He had meant it, of course, but his heart shattered nonetheless. Wishing things could be different. Wishing he could have been the one she was so excited about.

—

Ekko blinked away a tear as he kept his focus on the dark road ahead of him. His hands gripped the steering wheel, fingers tight and trembling, his knuckles white against the worn black leather. The pressure of his grip was almost painful, but it did nothing to ground him. The car seemed to hum with the weight of the silence between them, a thick, oppressive force that pressed down on him like an anvil. 

Beside him, Jinx was asleep, her head resting against the window, the faint rise and fall of her chest the only sign that she was still breathing. In any other moment, seeing her like this—so peaceful, so vulnerable—might have softened him, might have made him smile. She looked small, delicate, like a carefully painted portrait.

But not now. Not today.

Not with the turmoil twisting inside him. Not with the way his heart was hammering in his chest, and the tightening in his throat that made it hard to swallow. It was something worse than concern or worry. 

The sight of her, so close yet so far away, only made his stomach churn harder. Her stillness was a cruel contrast to the storm inside him, and instead of comforting him, it deepened his sense of dread.

He had been a fool. A damn fool. He knew better than this. He had promised himself, over and over again, that he wouldn’t fall into the same trap again—that he wouldn’t let hope take root in his heart, that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to believe in something that had always been out of his reach. 

And yet, despite everything, he had let himself hope again. He had let himself believe, even if it was just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between them. And that perhaps he could speak out his heart.

Now, that fragile dream was splintering into pieces, sharp shards of reality that dug into him. The weight of it—the realization that he had been foolish enough to let himself wish for something he knew he could never have—sank into his bones. His grip tightened on the wheel again, as if the physical act of holding on could somehow hold back the flood of regret threatening to drown him.

Her eyes. He couldn’t stop replaying the way she had looked at anything but him. The way she had avoided his gaze, her eyes darting away whenever they almost met, like they were too heavy to bear. Every time he had tried to catch her gaze, she had looked past him, over his shoulder, at the road, at the window—anywhere but him. 

The rejection was subtle, but it stung. It felt like a wall rising between them, a barrier he couldn’t cross. 

Where had it gone wrong? The question kept circling in his mind like a vulture, picking apart his every action, his every word. Had he said something that made her pull away? Had he done something wrong? Maybe it was something he hadn’t even noticed, a glance he missed or a shift in his tone that had set her off. He couldn’t pinpoint it, couldn’t figure out the exact moment when things had turned. 

What if she had figured out how he felt? 

What if she could see right through him—see that everything he’d been doing, everything he’d said, had been about her, always had been?

The idea made him sick to his stomach. The thought that she might be disgusted—not by something he’d done, but by what was in his heart—made his skin crawl. What if she saw him differently now? What if that was it? What if everything had changed and he didn’t even know how or why?

He wanted to believe he was imagining things, that maybe it was all in his head. But the more he thought about it, the clearer the signs became—the way her eyes refused to meet his, the way she turned away when he came too close, the way her body language screamed that she wasn’t ready to face him. It felt like she was closing herself off from him, and the thought of losing that connection, of losing her, made the ache in his chest deepen.

The silence between them was endless now, stretching out like a cruel reminder of everything left unsaid. The words he couldn’t bring himself to say, the ones she refused to say.. And with each passing mile, it felt like they were moving further apart, like the space between them was becoming too wide to cross.

—

The second time Ekko tried to confess was just before high school graduation. By then, Jinx had long broken up with Drae, who turned out to be a total dud. Ekko had barely contained his anger when he learned Drae had only dated her because of a stupid bet between his friends. The betrayal left Jinx guarded, unwilling to trust guys for a long time. So Ekko waited. He waited until he thought the timing was right—until they were about to graduate. The weight of his feelings had become unbearable, and he didn’t want to leave things unsaid before life became more complicated.

For weeks, he had stewed over it, rehearsing the perfect words in his mind, practicing in front of the mirror late at night. The plan was simple: ask her to prom. It felt like a safe step—not too grand, but enough to let her know how he felt. Just casual enough to avoid scaring her off, but meaningful enough to finally put his heart on the line.

So when the day finally came, his heart was pounding as he approached her that afternoon, his palms sweating despite the cool spring air. His voice caught slightly as he spoke. “You going to prom?” he asked, forcing himself to sound lighthearted even as his nerves gnawed at him.

Jinx looked up at him with a stare he would never forget. There was something unreadable in her eyes, a flicker of emotion that wasn’t quite what he had hoped for. She shrugged, trying to seem indifferent, but Ekko could see it—the hurt behind her gaze, the walls she’d built. “No,” she said simply.

The single word hit Ekko like a brick. He froze, the weight of her answer heavier than he could have imagined. He’d been braced for rejection, maybe even a laugh at his expense, but not this. The coldness in her tone caught him completely off guard, and the warmth he had clung to in his mind vanished.

He scrambled for something to say, anything to salvage the moment. “Oh,” he managed, his voice tight. “Why not?”

Jinx’s gaze drifted past him, her focus somewhere distant. She hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter this time. “It’s mom’s anniversary,” she said. The words carried a heaviness that made Ekko’s chest tighten.

Her mom. The memory hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d forgotten. The anniversary of her mother’s death—how could he have overlooked something so significant to her? The guilt crashed over him in waves as he watched her retreat further into herself, the pain clearly etched on her face.

Ekko wanted to say something, to apologize, to comfort her somehow, but the words caught in his throat. She was already gone, emotionally if not physically, her thoughts lost in a place he couldn’t reach.

That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Ekko couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind. He kicked himself over and over for his thoughtlessness. He should have remembered. He did remember—just too late. How could he have been so selfish, so caught up in his own feelings, that he’d overlooked hers?

—

Ekko stood just outside the car, leaning against it while the ferry moved across the dark waters. The hum of the engine and the occasional splash of water against the hull were the only sounds that filled the air, each one amplifying the silence between him and the figure inside the car.

Jinx hadn’t budged from her seat. She had chosen to stay and sleep, as she often did when the weight of things—of everything—became too much. It didn’t surprise him at this point, of course. He was resigned to it almost now. The pattern had long been set. He had seen it happen before—just not because of him. And that thought clawed at him, scraping corners of his heart that he didn’t even know existed. 

Still he kept his distance as she kept hers, if only to ease her discomfort even a little. Even as his mind screamed at him to do something—anything to try bridging the gap. He couldn’t.

She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to let anyone in. And he, despite everything, had come to accept that. He didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to push her when she wasn’t ready. But still the silence—the thick, oppressive quiet that settled over him—ate at him.

So, Ekko stood there, gripping the side of the car, trying to distract himself with the mundane. The cool, crisp air brushed against his face, carrying the scent of salt and sea. The rhythmic sound of waves rolling against the shore blended with the murmur of nearby voices and footsteps, passengers moving through their own lives. He tried to let the distraction pull him out of his thoughts, to lose himself in the gentle hum of the world around him.

But it didn’t work.

The storm inside him raged on, refusing to be quieted. His mind kept circling back to her, to the person sleeping just behind him, mere feet away but feeling like an ocean’s distance.

Why couldn’t he just let go? Let her be? The question looped in his mind, but he didn’t have an answer. He just stood there, watching the water shift and churn beneath him, each ripple in the sea mirroring the turmoil that was building in his chest.

He wanted to believe that Jinx could open up, that she could eventually let him in. But as the minutes ticked by and the dark waters stretched endlessly ahead of them, he wondered why he even let that thought come into him. 

Since it only let in the nagging, insistent fear—that maybe she would never let him in her heart, and just like now he would always be on the outside, looking in.

—

The third and last time Ekko tried to confess to Jinx was back in their second year of university. By then, they had been roommates for a couple of years. They had spent late nights talking about everything and nothing, built memories around shared meals and terrible attempts at cooking, and navigated the ups and downs of life together.

That day, Jinx had come to him after a bad breakup. She was quiet at first, her face flushed with frustration, but the more she spoke, the clearer it became that the hurt was real. 

He was some jock who had tried pushing her boundaries, but when she refused, he discarded her. It wasn’t the first time someone had let her down, but this time, it seemed to hit harder. It wasn’t just the betrayal—it was the way he had changed, turned into someone unrecognizable.

“What a bastard, changing like that,” Jinx had said, her voice sharp, filled with anger and disbelief.

Ekko had just nodded, his hand gently rubbing her back, his presence all she seemed to need in that moment. She snuggled closer to him, her body shaking with suppressed sobs. He didn’t say much, just held her, letting her cry into his shirt. He could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through the fabric, but it didn’t matter. She needed him, and he was there.

“Yeah, what a bastard,” Ekko had muttered softly, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. He wished he could do something more, something to take it away, but all he could offer was himself.

Jinx’s face burrowed deeper into his chest as she clung to him, seeking comfort in the way only someone she trusted could. And that was when the words almost slipped out. He’d never been good at this—at being vulnerable, at exposing what he really felt. But at that moment, it felt almost too easy to let go.

“Hey, I’m here,” he’d said, his voice a little unsteady, unsure of how to offer the right kind of support. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. “You’ll never change, right?” Her voice had been soft, a quiet plea, as though she was trying to make sure she wasn’t making a mistake in relying on him.

In that moment, everything in Ekko froze. She was looking at him with so much trust, so much hope, and it felt like a heavy weight in his chest. The words were right there—right on the tip of his tongue. He could tell her, he could finally admit how he felt. But he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to.

“Yeah,” he said instead, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll never change.”

The confession died in his throat.

He never tried after. 

At least he should’ve really kept it that way. 

Chapter Text

Jinx didn’t say a word as she stepped into their shared space, her movements sharp and mechanical. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him—not his face, not his eyes, not the way he hovered just a little too close, as though trying to find the right moment to speak. She could feel his gaze, heavy and searching, could feel the way his presence lingered around her like an unspoken question. He wanted to say something—she could sense it in the charged silence between them. But for once, she was grateful for his indecisiveness.

It spared her the trouble of rejecting him outright. It spared her from the inevitable look on his face, the one filled with worry and confusion, the one that made her chest tighten in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. She didn’t have the strength for it. Not tonight.

Her jaw tightened as she wordlessly walked into her room and shrugged off her jacket and threw it onto the floor. The thought clawed at her, ugly and relentless: In the end, he was just like everyone else. He wanted to fix her. That’s all it ever was. Fix her broken pieces. Fix her flaws. Fix her jinxes .

The bitterness welled up in her, but she swallowed it down, her hands clenching briefly at her sides before she exhaled. She didn’t want fixing. She didn’t want to be saved. And she especially didn’t need him looking at her like she was some fragile thing on the verge of collapse. That look—that unbearable, pitying softness—was the last thing she could stand to see.

Her fingers hovered over the door before she pushed it shut, the sound sharper than she intended. In the brief moment before it clicked shut, she caught a glimpse of him lingering by the entrance, his shadow still there, hesitant and unsure. It twisted the knife in her chest harder, the ache mingling with a raw anger she didn’t want to feel.

She leaned against the door, her eyes closing as she tried to will it all away—the weight of his concern, the tightness in her throat, the gnawing thought that maybe she was broken in a way that drew people like him in. But she didn’t want that from him. Didn’t want it from anyone.

With barely enough energy, she made her way to her bed, collapsing onto it as if her body had given up the fight. But even as exhaustion pulled at her—to both body and mind. Sleep didn’t come.

The quiet of the room felt too heavy, suffocating, as though her thoughts and emotions were a weight she couldn’t shake. No matter how much she craved rest, it eluded her. She just laid there, back pressed against the mattress, watching the shadows stretch and shrink as the night bled into morning.

She didn’t even notice the room brightening until her phone rang, its buzz a sudden jolt that pulled her from the numb fog she had been floating in. Her gaze lingered on the screen for a moment, and then she sighed softly, resigned.

“Sis,” Jinx answered, her voice laced with exhaustion. 

“Hey, I’m back,” Vi replied, her voice brimming with more energy than their last conversation. “So, I figured I’d check in on my baby sis.”

“Mhm,” Jinx mumbled, barely acknowledging her. Any other time, she might have been annoyed by Vi’s uncanny ability to brush past their fights and act like nothing had happened. It was as if Vi could ignore even her most glaring issues until they faded into the background. Jinx had a hunch that even if she shot someone in front of her, Vi would find a way to rationalize it eventually.

But right now, she was oddly thankful for that trait. She didn’t have the energy to juggle two problems at once.

Vi paused, her tone shifting instantly to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jinx muttered, her words clipped.

“Nothing?” Vi’s voice was skeptical, her protective instincts kicking in.

“Yeah. Nothing.”

The line fell silent for a moment as Vi seemed to weigh her response. Then, in a shift of tone, she offered something else. “Wanna come punch some leather?” she suggested casually.

“Leather?” Jinx blinked, trying to process.

“Yeah,” Vi affirmed with a slight chuckle. “Punch some bags like we used to when we were younger.”

Jinx bit her lips, thinking of a million reasons why she didn’t want to go—especially with how their last interaction went. The fallout, the drama and the mess of it all. But her mind drifted to Ekko, likely sleeping in the other room and the reasons died. The issue with her sister too far gone in the back of her mind. Anything was better than facing him right now. 

“Okay.” 

—

Vi’s gym always carried a smell that Jinx couldn’t quite get used to—the mix of old sweat, rubber, and faint hints of metal. The scent was heavy, lingering in the air, stubbornly refusing to fade, despite the faint undertones of disinfectant that tried to mask it. 

The punching bags hung from the ceiling, their leather surfaces worn and weathered from years of relentless strikes. The seams were frayed and patched in places, each one bearing the marks of countless battles fought within these walls. They swayed gently in the draft from the overhead fans, their quiet movement a reminder of the strength and resilience that had passed through this room, session after session.

The floor beneath Jinx’s feet was an aged hardwood, streaked with marks and worn patches, remnants of countless people pounding across it. The walls, lined with mirrors, made the room look bigger than it actually was. Giving it an almost foreboding or daunting look. 

The gym was empty—which wasn’t a surprise, she had seen the closed sign at the door. So, besides the litter of equipment in the room, the space was vacant. Which was oddly soothing. 

The soft shuffle of footsteps broke her reverie, and her eyes shifted to the back of the room. There, Vi appeared, her violet hair bouncing with each confident step. Her presence filled the space, a burst of energy that cut through the quiet of the gym. Jinx stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of her older sister, her chest tightening briefly at the memory of their last conversation. 

Perhaps she had walked into the fire to avoid the frying pan. 

But Vi didn’t hesitate. She crossed the room in a few strides and pulled Jinx into a firm embrace. For once, Jinx didn’t resist. She let herself sink into the warmth, the quiet reassurance of Vi’s arms easing a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

“Are you even allowed to close this early?” Jinx mumbled, her voice soft, an attempt to slip back into her usual teasing tone.

Vi didn’t let go. “It’s my gym,” she said simply, her voice steady.

When Vi finally pulled back, it was with a reluctance Jinx hadn’t expected. Her face held the familiar easy grin, but her sharp eyes scanned Jinx with a quiet intensity, an undertone of concern lurking behind her casual demeanor.

“How’s my little baby blue doing?” Vi asked, her voice light and playful, though the question carried weight.

If Jinx had the energy, she might have rolled her eyes. Instead, she gave a faint shrug, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. The tightness in her chest lingered, like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. “Chirpy mood, huh? Good honeymoon, I take it?” Her voice carried a weak note of teasing, but the exhaustion underneath was unmistakable.

Vi grinned, her eyes light with the memory. “It was excellent.”

“At least one of us had a good two weeks,” Jinx muttered, the bitterness slipping out before she could catch it.

Vi shifted slightly, her expression softening as she looked at her younger sister. “That’s why we’re here—to punch some stuff. Let you blow off some steam.”

“Does that actually work?” Jinx raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in her tone.

“Works for me,” Vi shrugged, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a small smirk. “Worth an effort.”

Jinx let out a small, reluctant sigh, her fingers twitching at her sides as she glanced at the punching bags. “Guess it’s better than staring at the ceiling all day,” she admitted, her voice quieter now.

Vi’s smirk widened, her tone light but steady. “That’s the spirit. Let’s get you some gloves and make those bags regret existing.”

To Jinx’s surprise, she felt a small, almost involuntary smile forming at Vi’s words. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to coax her toward the bag. Vi helped her with the gloves, her movements steady and reassuring, and within moments, Jinx found herself throwing her first punch.

Her hits were awkward and uneven, lacking the finesse she used to have during her younger days. But the dull thud of her fists against the bag felt oddly liberating. With each strike, it was as if she was chipping away at the tension knotted in her chest. The storm inside her didn’t dissipate completely, but it softened, replaced by a rhythm that allowed her to breathe a little easier.

Vi stood nearby, her arms crossed as she watched, a small, proud grin on her face. “Not bad for someone who hasn’t thrown a punch in years,” she teased lightly. “You’ve still got it, Blue.”

Jinx rolled her eyes but didn’t stop. “If by ‘it,’ you mean pent-up frustration, then sure,” she muttered between breaths, her hits growing a little steadier.

“Frustration’s a good start,” Vi replied warmly. “We’ll turn it into something better. One punch at a time.” She shifted slightly, leaning closer, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “So, what’s got you all pent up?”

Jinx didn’t feel the usual urge to deflect or brush off the question. Something about the steady rhythm of her punches and Vi’s presence made it easier to let the words spill out. She began to explain, her voice breaking between hits. She spoke of her feelings of being abandoned, of the fire, her current living situation, the trip, and Ekko’s actions. The words came tumbling out, interspersed with ragged breaths and the sound of her gloves hitting the bag.

Vi stayed silent, her expression unreadable as she listened. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to offer solutions. She simply stood there, letting Jinx vent, rant, and even cry as her punches became weaker, her energy spent.

When Jinx finally stopped, her chest heaving as she leaned against the bag, Vi stepped closer. She wrapped her arms around her younger sister from behind, pulling her into a supportive hug. “You had it rough,” she said softly, her voice steady and grounding.

Jinx didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. The weight of Vi’s words—and her embrace—settled over her like a balm to the ache she hadn’t even realized she was carrying, and she felt like she wasn’t carrying it all alone. 

It took a while for Jinx to calm down, now sitting on the workout bench at the back of the room. Her hair was damp with sweat, her face flushed, but her shoulders carried a slight looseness that hadn’t been there before.

Vi handed her a bottle of cold water, her voice tentative. “Did you ask him?”

Jinx took the bottle without looking at her. “The answer was obvious,” she said dismissively before taking a sip.

“You didn’t,” Vi concluded, leaning against the wall. “You should give that a try.”

“And what? Hear him patronize me?” Jinx shot back, the sharpness in her tone hiding something more vulnerable underneath.

Vi tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “I have an inkling he had no intentions of doing that. If I were a betting woman, I’d bet it’s cause the man has caught feelings.”

Jinx almost snorted before she finally looked at her, her brow furrowed. “How would you even know that?”

Vi almost smiled, a ghost of amusement flickering across her face. “Trust me—call it intuition from a seasoned married woman.”

This time Jinx did snort. “You’ve been married for two weeks.”

“Two weeks longer than you,” Vi shot back with a casual shrug.

Jinx turned the bottle in her hands, the water sloshing softly inside. Her voice dropped, quieter now. “Even if you’re right… I’m still too broken—too messed up for—for whatever this is.” She gestured vaguely to the air in frustration.  

Vi’s expression softened, her gaze tender. “I’m broken too, Jinx. Didn’t stop me from marrying someone."

Jinx narrowed her eyes at her sister, but the glare lacked its usual fire. “So, what? Are you saying I’m overreacting? That everyone’s broken so I should just shut up and deal with it?”

“No,” Vi replied, her tone gentler still. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that being broken—not feeling okay—that’s okay. And that shouldn’t stop you from—from moving forward with whatever this is.”

Jinx’s eyes flicked downward, her focus shifting to the floor as her fingers idly picked at the edges of the water bottle’s label.

Vi let the silence linger before she continued, her voice steady but full of quiet conviction. “We’re not like some goods that lose value once it’s broken. You still have value, Jinx, no matter what shape or form you think you’re in.”

Jinx froze for a moment, her fingers stilling on the label. Vi’s words seemed to seep into her, breaking through the defenses she had been clinging to. She didn’t look up at her sister, but she didn’t turn away either. Her hands rested quietly in her lap, the water bottle now forgotten.

“Your value as a person isn’t based on what you can or could be, Jinx,” Vi urged, leaning in slightly. “You’re valuable because—you just are. Broken or not. As my sister, as his friend, as yourself.”

The words hung in the air, filling the quiet space between them. Jinx’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like she might dismiss the sentiment. But instead, she let out a long breath, her shoulders easing ever so slightly.

It wasn’t acceptance—not yet, they had long years of still unspoken baggage. But it was a crack in the wall, the smallest opening for hope to sneak through. It was a step and for now, that was enough.

A dry chuckle escaped her lips as she looked up at her sister. “When did you become so wise?”

Vi grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You weren’t the only one who went through counseling.”

That simple revelation made Jinx pause. She had always seen Vi as the strong one, the one who took on the world without flinching. Her sister—the fighter who let nothing slide and always found a way forward. And yet, even she had sought help. Even Vi had allowed herself to be vulnerable, and she had shame for it no less. 

Jinx glanced away, her fingers toying with the water bottle again. “Huh. Guess I’m not the only screw-up in the family, then.”

“You’re not a screw-up, Jinx,” Vi said firmly, but without losing the warmth in her voice. “You’re just… human. Like the rest of us.”

The weight of the words settled into Jinx, not entirely comfortable but not unwelcome either. She didn’t have a snappy reply or a witty retort this time. Instead, she gave a small nod, her gaze fixed on the water bottle in her hands.

“Maybe…” Jinx hesitated, the word hanging awkwardly in the air before she finally let it out. “Maybe I’ll give it a try. Talking to him, I mean.”

Vi’s smile softened, her pride clear but understated. “That’s all I’d ask, Blue. One step at a time. Small steps that you can take. It’s something only you can do.”

Jinx didn’t reply, but for the first time in a while, the tightness in her chest didn’t feel quite so hopelessly tangled. One step at a time, she thought. Maybe she could do that.

Chapter Text

The sky was a deep gradient of orange and purple by the time Jinx returned to the apartment, her steps slower than usual as if the weight of everything that happened still clung to her shoulders. When she opened the door, the warm glow of light spilled into the hallway, a sharp contrast to the darkening world outside.

From the kitchen, the faint hum of music drifted through the space, soft and steady, the kind of tune meant for unwinding after a long day. The sound wasn’t intrusive—it blended seamlessly with the ambiance, filling the room with a sense of quiet life.

Jinx stepped inside, letting the door close behind her with a quiet click. She kicked off her boots by the entrance, her gaze drifting toward the kitchen where the music originated. The faint clatter of utensils reached her ears, mingling with the rhythm of the melody.

For a moment, she hesitated, her fingers brushing against the edge of the doorframe. The apartment felt warm, lived in. It wasn’t the suffocating stillness she’d expected to walk into. Instead, it felt… grounding, like she was stepping into a space that had been waiting for her.

Her chest tightened slightly as she moved toward the kitchen, the music growing louder with each step.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting when she returned. Maybe silence, the kind that felt heavy and accusing. Maybe Ekko holed up in his room, keeping to himself after the way she’d blown him off the night before. But she definitely hadn’t been expecting to see him in the kitchen, standing by the counter, carefully piping icing onto cupcakes.

Jinx stopped in her tracks, her fingers still brushing the edge of the doorway as she took in the scene. Ekko was hunched slightly, his posture relaxed but intent. In his hands, a piping bag moved with slow precision, and though she couldn’t see his face, the way he leaned in spoke of intense concentration.

The sight was strangely disarming.

The faint tension in her chest loosened slightly as she leaned against the doorframe, watching him for a moment longer than she intended. The music hummed in the background, soft and rhythmic, blending effortlessly with the gentle clatter of the utensils he occasionally reached for. The whole scene felt… normal. Comforting, even.

“Didn’t know you made cupcakes,” Jinx finally said, her voice cutting through the quiet yet somehow still soft. She hadn’t intended to speak, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Ekko’s back stiffened immediately at the sound of her voice, and she could see the subtle tension ripple through him. He didn’t turn to face her, keeping his focus on the cupcakes as his fingers tightened around the icing bag. “Everyone’s full of surprises,” his voice was light, almost casual, but the ends clipped in ways she wasn’t used to.

The moment stretched, heavier than the silence that had filled the room just a second ago, the music doing little to lift it. Jinx wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden weight of the situation. She had been prepared for a confrontation, maybe, but this… this felt different. Less hostile, more fragile.

Ekko cleared his throat, a sound too loud in the thick quiet of the room. “There is dinner on the table if you want,” he said, the words floating awkwardly in the air as he motioned toward the table with a side nod. His voice was still light, even more so than before, but it felt forced, practiced, like he was trying to convince himself that everything was fine. “Cupcakes will be ready soon if that’s what you prefer.”

Jinx stood still for a moment, processing his words. She realized, in that moment, that he wasn’t going to confront her. He wasn’t going to demand answers or press her about what had happened the night before. He was going to quietly move on, as if nothing had changed. The weight of his restraint hit her harder than she expected.

It seemed obvious now. He was respecting the invisible line she had drawn, the space she needed to protect herself. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t trying to pull her in or force her to admit anything. He was just… letting her be. The realization settled over Jinx with a mixture of guilt and relief. She wasn’t sure which one was stronger.

She looked at him, her eyes lingering on the back of his head as he continued icing the cupcakes with an almost obsessive focus, his movements steady but distant. 

But as if he noticed her lingering stare he paused, his posture straightened and he seemed to take a deep. “Not hungry?” he asked, voice tender. 

The question caught Jinx off guard, pulling her from her thoughts. She hadn’t expected him to speak again, especially not with that softness in his voice.

She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking from his back to the table where the dinner was laid out. Her stomach was tight, but not from hunger. She wasn’t sure how to answer—how to bridge the gap between them when everything felt so fragile, so uncertain.

She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to explain either. Instead, she shrugged, a half-hearted gesture that said everything and nothing at once. “I’m fine,” she muttered, her voice lacking conviction.

His shoulders relaxed, and he picked up the icing bag again, returning to his task with a quiet resignation. “Well,” he said softly, his voice steady, “if you change your mind… It’s there.”

She bit her lips, unsure what to do, caught between wanting to continue this charade and ripping the bandaid off. After a long moment of hesitation, she let out a shaky breath, steeling herself.

She pushed herself from the doorway, her legs carrying her across the room despite the heaviness in her chest. She saw the subtle tension in Ekko’s back as she approached, felt it in the way his posture stiffened. But she didn’t let the moment hang in the air any longer. Without thinking too much, she wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her face gently into the warmth of his back.

For a heartbeat, Ekko froze, his body going rigid under her touch. Jinx felt it, the sudden stillness in him, and yet she didn’t pull away. She tightened her grip, grounding herself in the closeness. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for—comfort, clarity, or perhaps just some kind of bridge for understanding that words couldn’t reach.

“I think,” she started, her voice almost a whisper. “We need to talk… about yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” Ekko replied, his tone soft, hesitant, like he was treading carefully around something fragile. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

She sensed the effort in his voice, the way he wanted to sound reassuring but instead came off pained. His words hung in the air, brittle and unsteady, and they only made her chest tighten further.

“No—I need to,” Jinx pressed, her voice gaining just enough strength to carry the weight of her conviction. “If I don’t, I might never say it.”

Ekko’s shoulders tensed, and she saw his hands grip the edge of the counter. His knuckles paled under the pressure, the quiet strain in his posture mirroring whatever turmoil he was trying so hard to contain.

“Okay,” he murmured, still not turning to face her. His voice was calm, but she could see the storm beneath the surface in the way his breathing hitched ever so slightly. It almost seemed dreadful. “I’m listening.”

Jinx hesitated, her fingers curling slightly as she stood behind him. The words felt heavy, lodged somewhere between her chest and throat, but she forced herself to push past the resistance. “I—should first apologize,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

Ekko flinched, the movement subtle but sharp, as if her words struck a chord he had hoped to avoid. His grip on the counter tightened for a moment before relaxing slightly, his shoulders sinking lower under the weight of whatever thoughts were racing through his mind. The reaction caught her off guard, sparking an unwelcome twinge of guilt in her chest.

It made her wonder—what had he been expecting her to say? What had him so wound up, so ready to break? The thought tugged at the edges of her mind, but she shoved it aside for now.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice steadier this time. “For yesterday. For—for shutting you out and acting like I didn’t care. I just—I didn’t know what to do.”

Ekko still didn’t turn, his pose remained tight and tense—tenser even. But she didn’t let that stop her from continuing. 

“It just felt like—” she paused, the words catching in her throat. She exhaled heavily, frustration flickering across her face. “I didn’t want your pity.”

This time, his reaction was immediate, but not what she expected. The tension in his hands began to fade, his grip on the counter softening. She felt him shift slightly, as though he was about to turn toward her, to say something—but she tightened her hold, stopping him.

“Don’t,” she murmured, her voice quiet but firm. She wasn’t ready to see the look in his eyes yet, wasn’t ready for whatever emotion might be there—anger, hurt, understanding. “Just let me finish.”

Ekko stilled again, his body going quiet beneath her grip, but his silence wasn’t cold. It felt… patient. Like he was giving her the space she needed to speak, even if it meant holding back whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

“You know, after you moved to the States…” she began again, her voice quieter this time, measured, like she was feeling her way through the dark. “Life… it hadn’t exactly been kind to me. There were things—factors—that just made it worse. At first, it was just a passing thought here and there, like… maybe people wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t around anymore—maybe even like it if the jinx disappeared. But then, it wasn’t just a thought. It was all I could think about.”

Her grip tightened around him as her words wavered, the tremor in her voice betraying the cracks beneath her carefully composed exterior. She paused to take a ragged breath, the kind that seemed to scrape against her lungs as she struggled to steady herself. She swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions threatening to overtake her. “I went… to places. Did something I didn’t know how to come back from—still don’t.”

Her voice faltered, and the vulnerability in her admission made her chest tighten, fear bubbling beneath the surface. “Maybe someday I’ll tell you everything,” she murmured, her tone low and hesitant. “When I’m ready.”

She waited for a reaction—a word, a sound, something. But Ekko stayed silent. His steady, grounding presence didn’t waver. But she could feel his heartbeat quicken, maybe even anxious, against her forehead where it rested on his back. But he didn’t push her. He just waited. Perhaps holding it in for her sake. 

“But ever since then…” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “I’ve felt broken. Like I’m not… like I’m not a whole person anymore.”

“The people around me didn’t treat me the same either,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly as the memories pressed in. “Like I needed to be coddled, watched, fixed.”

She let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless, her fingers tightening slightly on Ekko’s shirt. “It didn’t matter what I did or how much I tried to prove myself. I could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. They didn’t think I’d ever be the same. And maybe… maybe they were right.”

“It got to the point where I didn’t even know who I was anymore,” she continued, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “Like I was just this… shattered version of who I used to be. And every time someone looked at me like that, it felt like another piece of me broke off.”

“So, when Babbette called about the medication bottles while we were at the pier,” she started again, her voice fragile but determined, “she mentioned seeing them when she stopped by with the remodeler. And that’s when it hit me—you must’ve seen them too. That’s why you started acting differently. Why you’ve been so… attentive.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tightening around the admission. “I thought it was because you pitied me.”

“But I didn’t want that from you,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her words. “Not from you, Ekko. You’ve always been the one who saw me differently. Like I was still me, even when I couldn’t see it myself. And the idea of losing that, of you looking at me the way everyone else does, it—it terrified me.”

Jinx held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as the weight of her revelation filled the room. The silence that followed felt like an eternity, thick and heavy with unspoken thoughts. She waited, dreading what he might say, what he might think.

Finally, when she said nothing more Ekko broke the silence, his voice soft, almost hesitant, as if the words weren’t meant to be spoken aloud. “The Prozac bottle.”

Jinx tensed instinctively at his confirmation, her grip on his shirt tightening again. But she didn’t let go, not this time. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to let go of that one fragile thread of connection.

“It wasn’t pity,” Ekko continued, his voice quiet but firm. The words were raw, stripped of pretense or hesitation, and they made her heart skip. “It was never pity, Jinx.”

Jinx let out the breath she was holding, the weight of them sinking deep into her chest. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to feel the hope stir inside her. But his voice, steady and unwavering, left little room for doubt.

“Can I turn around?” Ekko asked carefully. 

She didn’t answer at first, but after a beat, she let go of him, just long enough for him to turn. The moment he was facing her, her arms found their way back to him, wrapping around his back with a kind of urgency that surprised them both.

Ekko’s hand gently brushed back, his hand running soothing circles on her back with a tenderness that made her heart flutter in unexpected ways. “It wasn’t pity,” he repeated, his voice even more gentle now. “I don’t see you like that, Jinx. I never have.”

Her heart raced, thudding against her chest like it was trying to escape. Relief and fear tangled inside her, and she couldn’t make sense of it. There was something so deeply vulnerable in the way he held her, something that both comforted and unsettled her all at once. The flood of emotions left her breathless, unsure of how to process it all.

“Then what do you see me as?” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Ekko’s hand faltered for a moment, the motion hesitating as if caught between the desire to answer and the weight of what the truth might do. After a beat, he continued, his voice lower than before. “I don’t know if you’d want to hear that.”

“Try me,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. She needed to know. Needed to understand what was left in his eyes when he looked at her, after everything. 

Ekko let out a breath, pulling back just enough to see her face. Jinx instinctively protested, wanting to keep her face buried in his shirt, but his pull was soft and insistent. She complied, reluctantly lifting her head.

He brought a hand up to gently wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her cheek. “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would say it like this,” Ekko mused, almost a whisper. His eyes searched hers for a moment longer, the weight of his gaze like an anchor. Then, a half-smile tugged at his lips, the softest thing she’d ever seen on him.

“ I love you, Jinx. ”

Jinx froze in his embrace, her breath catching in her throat. The words hung in the air as her mind scrambled to catch up.

Ekko didn’t let her shock stop him as he continued. “It wasn’t pity, or a wish to fix you. Never in my life shared with you did I think that.”

Jinx blinked, tears brimming in her eyes as her heart ached in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he continued, his tone carrying a warmth that made her cheeks flush. “Maybe it’s always been there, buried somewhere in the corners of my heart. But at some point, I started noticing all the little things about you—the way your nose scrunches when you eat something you hate, the way your shoulders shake when you’re trying to hold back a laugh.” His lips twitched into the faintest smile, bittersweet and nostalgic.

“I—” He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment as he glanced down. When his eyes found hers again, there was a vulnerability in them that made her breath hitch. “I knew,” he said, his voice barely steady. “I knew you couldn’t feel the same way—or at least not in the same way. And that thought clawed at me, year after year. It twisted in my chest until I couldn’t bear it anymore. But somewhere along the way, I got so caught up in my own hurt, in my own fears, that I…I just gave up. I never should have left.”

“I’m so sorry, Jinx,” he said, his voice trembling but steady enough to carry the weight of his regret. “For everything. For making you feel like you had to carry the world on your own. For making you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you when there never was. It wasn’t my intention. I thought I was helping… but I wasn’t. I just—” He took a shuddering breath, blinking hard as a single tear escaped down his cheek. “I was wrong. About all of it. And I’m sorry.”

The apology hung in the air, but it wasn’t the words that shook Jinx—it was the way his vulnerability made her own walls crumble. 

The realization hit her with a force that left her breathless: she wasn’t the only one who had been carrying this weight. Ekko had been holding onto his feelings just as tightly, trying to protect her while hiding his own truth.

She reached up, cupping his face in her hands as her thumb wiped away his tears. “I—” she started, her voice trembling, “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you felt that way. I thought…” She trailed off, her words faltering, as the walls she’d built began to crumble under the weight of his honesty. “I thought you were just trying to fix me… just like everyone else.”

Ekko’s hands gently wrapped around hers, his grip warm and steady, offering her the comfort she had never realized she needed. “I never wanted to fix you. I just wanted to be there for you. I always have.”

Her heart raced as she tried to steady herself, the vulnerability of the moment threatening to overwhelm her. But in that moment, she knew—she knew she wasn’t the only one who had been afraid of losing something they didn’t understand.

She wanted to speak, to find the words that could match the raw honesty he had given her, to tell him she had felt it too. But the words refused to come, nothing seemed adequate, trapped somewhere between her throat and chest, tangled in the heavy knot of emotions she couldn’t untangle.

So instead, she let her actions speak where her words failed.

Jinx stepped closer, her fingers tightening on his shirt as she rose onto the tips of her toes. Her breath hitched, the vulnerability in the moment almost paralyzing, but she pushed through it. Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned in, letting her lips brush softly against his.

It was tentative at first, a quiet question wrapped in a kiss. But when Ekko’s breath caught, and his hand instinctively found its way to the small of her back, grounding her, she felt something shift. The tension between them melted away, replaced by an electric warmth that spread through her chest, leaving her lightheaded.

Soon, the soft brushing of their lips turned more yearning, bolder, like a dance guided by emotions neither could fully express in words. His hand tightened gently on her back, pulling her closer as if to make sure this wasn’t just another fleeting moment. Her fingers curled into his shirt, anchoring herself to him, to the feeling of connection that felt so terrifyingly new and yet so achingly familiar.

The world around them faded, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. There was no hesitation now, only the quiet honesty of the moment and the unspoken promise that, for the first time, they weren’t alone in the depth of their feelings.

Jinx gasped for air as she broke the kiss, her breath shaky and her cheeks flushed. Her forehead rested against Ekko’s and she could feel his breath against her skin, warm and unsteady, mirroring her own.

“Jinx,” Ekko murmured, her name leaving his lips like a prayer, filled with something so raw and unguarded that it sent a shiver through her. The sound made her legs feel unsteady, forcing her back down onto her heels as reality fought to pull her away from the warmth they’d found together.

But Ekko wasn’t ready to let the moment slip away. His hands, firm but gentle, steadied her, as her heels planted herself to the floor, his lips chased hers down. This time, the kiss was less hesitant, filled with an urgency that hadn’t been there before. His hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he tilted her head to deepen the connection.

Her fingers, still fisted in his shirt, tightened, pulling him closer, as if she feared he might disappear if she let go. The kiss spoke everything they couldn’t say aloud—years of shared history, pain, and unspoken love bleeding into this one fleeting moment.

When they broke apart again, the room was silent except for their labored breaths. Jinx opened her eyes slowly, her gaze meeting Ekko’s, and for once, there were no walls between them—only vulnerability and the quiet, fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d found something worth holding onto.

She bit her lip, her chest tightening as she held his gaze. “Are you okay with me?” she asked, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper. 

Ekko’s eyes softened, his hand still lightly resting at her back, but before he could answer, Jinx shook her head, cutting him off. “No, you don’t understand,” she said, her words rushed and uneven. “I still feel broken—like I don’t fit, like I’m not enough. I don’t even know who I am half the time. Are you okay with that?”

Her voice cracked on the last word, the weight of her confession hanging heavily between them. For a moment, Ekko said nothing, his expression unreadable. But then he stepped even closer, his thumbs brushing away the tears she hadn’t realized were falling.

“Jinx,” he began, his voice steady but filled with something that made her breath catch, “I don’t care if you feel broken. I don’t care if you think you don’t belong. None of that changes the fact that you’re you—and that’s enough. That’s always been enough.”

Her eyes searched his, as if looking for cracks in his resolve, but all she found was sincerity. “But what if I don’t get better?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What if I can’t be the person you deserve? What if I ruin everything? What if I ruin us? What if—”

“Hey,” Ekko softly interrupted, his grip on her face didn’t falter, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to be anything other than who you are,” he said firmly. “We’ll figure it out, Jinx. Together. I’m here—for all of it. The good, the bad, and the messy—no—especially the mess you make.”

His words wrapped around her like a lifeline, grounding her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. For the first time in what felt like forever, the chaos in her mind quieted just a little, and she felt the faintest flicker of hope.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but steady. “Okay.”

Ekko’s face lowered to the crook of her neck. “Good,” he murmured, his voice soft and laced with relief.

His breath, warm against her skin, sent a shiver through her, making her cheeks flush despite the intimate moment they had just shared.

“Thank you for talking to me,” he breathed, his words gentle yet weighted with gratitude. It was the kind of thank you that carried the weight of something deeper, something that spoke of trust and understanding, a quiet promise that they would be there for each other—no matter what.

“Thank you for listening,” Jinx replied, a flicker of her playful side returning as she leaned in, whispering into his ear, “My, boy savior.”

Ekko chuckled softly, his warm breath brushing against her skin before he pulled back slightly, his face beaming with that familiar, reassuring smile. “I’m no hero. I’m just a guy who listens.”

Jinx’s lips curled into a genuine smile, one that reached all the way to her eyes. “And I’m no damsel either. Just a gal who needs a pick-me-up from time to time.”

Chapter Text

Jinx would be lying if she said opening up to Ekko made her feel instantly better. If anything, it left her feeling exposed, raw, as though all the cracks she’d worked so hard to seal had suddenly been pried open. The walls she had built over years of pain and isolation crumbled, and what lay beneath was overwhelming, fragile, and unrelenting.

She found herself breaking down more often, unable to hold back the tidal wave of emotions she’d kept buried. On those days, she’d collapse into Ekko’s arms, her sobs uncontrollable, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Ekko never turned her away. Never.

He would hold her quietly, his arms steady and grounding as his hand gently brushed the back of her head. He never pressed her for words, never tried to fix her with platitudes or advice. He just waited, patient and steady, until she was ready to speak.

Her therapist—one she’d reluctantly started seeing again at Ekko’s urging—had told her this was normal. The unraveling, the heightened sensitivity, even the waves of overwhelming vulnerability. “Healing isn’t linear,” they had reminded her. Jinx had scoffed at the words at the time, but somewhere deep down, she hoped they were right.

So the pattern continued. She cried. Ekko held her. And slowly, piece by piece, she began to feel the faintest hint of relief, even if it was fleeting.

Then the call came.

Babbette’s voice on the other end of the line was bright, almost celebratory. “The house is ready,” she’d said. “You can move back in anytime.”

For a moment, Jinx froze, the words sinking in. Her house—her own space—was waiting for her. She should’ve felt happy, relieved even. And yet, a strange pang tugged at her chest.

Her gaze drifted around Ekko’s apartment, her eyes landing on the small, familiar touches that had made it feel like home these past weeks. His jackets slung over the back of the chair. The faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. The quiet sense of safety she had found within these walls.

For a fleeting moment, she considered staying. Staying in this makeshift haven where she didn’t feel so overwhelmingly alone. But Ekko had been gently, yet firmly, against the idea.

“It’s just a couple doors down,” he’d said with a soft smile, his eyes full of quiet confidence. “I know you can do it.”

His words struck something deep within her. The trust and belief in his eyes seemed to wrap around her, reassuring and firm. She couldn’t bring herself to argue against him, not when he looked at her like that.

So, she had agreed, even though the thought of leaving his apartment filled her with equal parts dread and determination.

Which brought her to this moment. She stood in front of Ekko’s doorway, her final duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Across from her, Ekko leaned casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed, but his face betrayed a tinge of sadness, maybe even longing.

“You’ve got everything?” he asked, his voice steady, though his eyes lingered on her as if memorizing the moment.

Jinx nodded, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. “Yeah, this is it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings.

“Well,” Ekko finally said, pushing off the doorframe and rubbing the back of his neck. “You know where to find me. If you need anything.”

Jinx hesitated, her lips twitching as if to say something, but the words refused to come. Instead, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Ekko in a firm, sudden embrace.

Ekko froze for a heartbeat, clearly caught off guard, but he recovered quickly. His arms came around her, steady and warm, holding her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her cheek, and it made her want to linger just a little longer.

“You’ve got this,” he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring. Then, almost absentmindedly, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the gesture so tender it made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jinx shut her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry. Not here, not now. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and pulled back, though her hands lingered on his arms for a moment longer than necessary.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Always,” Ekko smiled, the sadness still present in his eyes but softened by warmth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Without another word, she turned and made her way toward her door. The short distance—barely two meters—stretched endlessly, her every step feeling heavier than the last. Her fingers tightened around the strap, as if holding on to it could anchor her against the unfamiliar ache settling in her chest.

She reached the door and hesitated, one hand resting on the knob. For a moment, she thought about turning back, about saying something, anything, to fill the silence now settling like a thick fog between them. But she couldn’t find the words.

With a quiet exhale, she opened the door and stepped inside her apartment. The sound of it closing behind her echoed faintly in the stillness, leaving her alone in the newly renovated apartment. 

The fresh scent of paint greeted her, sharp and clean. She drew in a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs, and with it came a newfound resolve. One step at a time—that was her plan. And right now her first step was to make the space her own again. 

To do that, she’d need to undo its pristine order. The place was too perfect, too neat, too new. It didn’t feel like hers yet. A soft, almost mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she imagined the things she could introduce to make it right.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

She took another step into the apartment, the faint smile still lingering as the possibilities unfurled in her mind. One step at a time. That was all she needed to do.

—

Ekko stood motionless in front of his closed doorway, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, just staring at the door as if willing it to open again. A small, stubborn part of his heart hoped—no, wanted —her to come back, to step through that door and decide to stay in his space, where he could see her, be there for her.

But he knew better.

He clenched his fists briefly before forcing them to relax. Letting her go wasn’t easy— would never be easy —even just a couple doors down, but he knew it was what she needed. 

Ever since she’d opened up to him, showing him parts of herself she rarely let anyone see, it had become painfully clear. He couldn’t always be her shield, her anchor, her everything. As much as he wanted to protect her, to be her safe place, it wouldn’t be fair—not to her, and not to himself. Relying on him for everything would only hold her back, trapping her in a cycle of dependence she didn’t deserve.

Jinx wasn’t a fragile thing to be coddled or a child to be guarded against the world. She was capable of standing on her own two feet. She had to find her own way, rediscover her independence, and rebuild her life on her terms. Keeping her tethered to his presence, no matter how comforting it might be for them both, would only stunt her growth.

And she’d asked him, plainly and honestly, not to do that. Not to protect her to the point of smothering her. Trusting her to make it on her own wasn’t just the right thing to do—it was the only thing he could do.

“It’s what’s best for her,” he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud might make it easier to accept.

But the ache in his chest remained, a dull, persistent reminder of just how much he missed her already.

With a sigh, Ekko finally pushed himself away from the doorway, the weight of the silence in the apartment pressing down on him. He wandered toward the dinner table, pulling out his chair and sinking into it.

His eyes drifted to the empty seat across from him, and a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It felt strange—wrong, even—to see it vacant after so many nights filled with her laughter, her teasing, and even her grumbles about the day.

Ekko leaned back in his chair, fingers tracing absent patterns on the table’s surface. “Guess it’s just me again,” he murmured, though the words offered no comfort.

For the first time in weeks, the apartment felt too quiet. Too empty.

But another part of his heart was glad for her—and even proud of her. He could see her determination, her resolve to heal, to love herself better. That thought alone gave him the strength to push past the ache in his chest and the more selfish, deeper urges that whispered for her to stay.

Ekko ran a hand through his hair and let out a quiet sigh. If she was strong enough to take this step for herself, then he needed to be strong enough to support her from a distance. That pride he felt for her, the belief in her, outweighed his own longing.

He would be there for her when she faltered, when she needed a place to rest, or a moment to lean and catch her breath. That was his role, his place, on her road to healing.

And if that was all he could offer her for now, then he’d give it willingly. Without hesitation. Because in the end, it wasn’t about what he wanted—it was about what she needed.

Besides, he was certain he wouldn’t have to wait too long. He could already picture her bursting into his apartment with that energy only she could bring—restless, chaotic, and just impossible to ignore.

A faint smile tugged at his lips at the thought.

—

Ekko stood in the doorway of Jinx’s apartment, a duffel bag slung loosely by his side, watching as Jinx scurried around like a whirlwind, frantically trying to make space in her spare room. Boxes were being shoved aside with little regard for their contents, and the mess seemed to grow by the second.

He fought the urge to groan. “You said you’d have the room ready.”

“Okay, to be fair ,” Jinx shot back, pushing another box into an already crowded corner, “I’d say this is your fault for not reminding me.”

“Oh, so this is my fault ,” Ekko gasped in mock outrage, raising an eyebrow. “Even though I reminded you just last week?”

“Should’ve told me yesterday,” Jinx said with a shrug, her arms bent at odd angles as she gestured vaguely to the chaos around her.

Ekko sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know you could’ve started this a week ago.”

“And you could’ve offered to help,” Jinx quipped without missing a beat, though her grin betrayed her playful tone.

“It’s my fault for not doing it myself,” Ekko muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he set his bag down.

Jinx paused mid-motion, turning to face him with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “You know,” she began, a smirk tugging at her lips, “we could just forget about the spare room.”

Ekko’s brow furrowed at the suggestion. “Scar and his family are here for the holidays. You’re not seriously suggesting I sleep on the couch for two weeks.”

Jinx’s smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “Oh, I’m not suggesting that.”

Ekko tilted his head, confused, until her words landed: “We could just share my room.”

His body stiffened, his breath catching slightly as the suggestion hit him hard. 

The past couple of months since they’d shared their first kiss had been a delicate balancing act for him. He’d worked hard to respect her pace, not wanting to pressure her when she was still finding her footing. Their time together had been filled with tender moments—chaste kisses, lingering embraces, stolen smiles—but nothing more.

So, the thought of sharing Jinx’s bed platonically sent his mind spiraling. His throat suddenly felt dry, and he wondered if it was possible to combust from his pent up frustrations.

“Hey, space boy.”

Jinx’s voice snapped him out of his daze as her fingers snapped in front of his face, her other hand resting on her hip.

“You in there?” she teased, her grin tilting slightly, equal parts amused and exasperated. “You look like I just asked you to build me a rocket or something.”

Ekko blinked, shaking himself back to reality. “Sorry, what?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning closer with a mock-concerned expression. Her fingers found his chest, making a show of walking up towards his collarbone, the light touch sending a warm shiver through him. “You’re not scared of a little proximity, are you?”

Ekko’s breath caught, and for a brief moment, he forgot how to speak. Her teasing tone, her fingers brushing against him—everything felt too close in a way that made his heart skip. He stood frozen, fighting to keep his composure as Jinx leaned in even closer, her breath warm against his skin.

She was inches away now, her eyes sparkling with mischief as her lips hovered just a fraction too far from his. “I think we could use being a little closer, don’t you think?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut—but in the best way imaginable. His mind whirled, his pulse quickened, and he fought to keep his cool.

“Jinx…” he started, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. But she silenced him with a single finger, the tip brushing softly against his lips.

“You’re thinking too much again,” she teased, her voice laced with a playfulness that sent shivers down his spine. Pressing her forehead against his, she added, “You know, you’re not the only one with a lot on their mind.”

Ekko swallowed hard, the heat of her closeness making it impossible to think straight. The last months of frustrations seemed to spill out all at once, making him realize how much more he had wanted—needed—her, here, like this. Yet a knot of hesitation twisted in his stomach. Was this the right time? Were they ready for what came next?

Before doubt could take hold, Jinx tilted her head, her lips brushing lightly against his ear. “What do you say, Ekko?” she whispered, her voice a mix of tease and challenge. “Wanna see how close we can really get?”

His heart thundered in his chest, and before he could muster a response, her lips pressed softly against his. For a moment, his mind blanked, the world narrowing to the warmth and softness of her kiss. Then, as if instinct had taken over, his hands found the small of her back, pulling her closer. The hesitation, the questions—they disappeared like smoke in the wind.

Jinx’s arms slid around his neck, her fingers brushing the nape as she pulled herself into him. It spurred him on, and he held her tighter, his chest pressing against hers. Her lips moved with an urgency, testing, exploring, pushing boundaries, and it made his heart race faster than it ever had.

Their kisses grew hungrier, deeper. Lips chased and nibbled, breaths mingling, until she parted her lips ever so slightly. Ekko hesitated only for a moment before his tongue carefully brushed against hers. She froze at the unfamiliar sensation, just long enough for him to worry, but then her hands tangled eagerly in his hair, her fingers gripping and tugging as she met him with equal passion.

It wasn’t until she pulled back that Ekko realized how lost he’d been in her. He almost groaned at the sudden absence, but her playful smirk stopped him. Her lips were red, her breath a little ragged, and she looked at him like she had all the power in the world.

Jinx stepped back, the loss of her warmth jolting him. She turned, strolling toward her room with an almost lazy sway before glancing back at him over her shoulder. “So,” she drawled, her voice sultry, “you gonna join me and pick up where we left off, or are you planning to clean the room all by yourself, little man?”

Ekko didn’t need any more convincing. His feet were already moving.

—

Jinx shifted uneasily in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve as her eyes darted between Ekko and Vi sitting across from each other in the Vi’s living room. She bit her lip, tension knotting her stomach as Vi’s sharp gaze zeroed in on Ekko. His own eyes were wide, flickering with anxiety, but he held his ground.

“Little man,” Vi began, her voice low and tight, the strain in it setting Jinx even further on edge. “I hear you’re shacking up with my little sister.”

Ekko cleared his throat, the sound loud in the tense silence. “Well,” he said carefully, “we don’t exactly live together—more like… close neighbors.”

“Same fucking difference,” Vi snapped, her tone sharper than Jinx had expected. The sudden edge in her voice made Ekko sit bolt upright, his back stiff as a board.

The silence seemed to hang, charged and electric. Her eyes darted to the fidgeting Ekko before her lips parted to try to mediate the situation, but she didn’t get to start.

Vi suddenly threw her head back, laughter bursting from her like a clap of thunder. She leaned forward, clutching her sides as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Oh, man!” she managed between laughs. “You should see your faces!”

Jinx let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Seriously, sis!” she exclaimed, glaring at her sister. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Vi smirked, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms, her laughter still bubbling in her chest. “What? You think I’d actually go all big-sis protective mode on you? I mean, come on, I know you can handle yourself.” She shot Ekko a sly grin. “And I’ve got a pretty good read on the kid here.”

Ekko, still looking like he’d been through a whirlwind, managed a shaky chuckle. “You’ve got a… unique way of showing it.”

Vi shrugged, her grin widening. “Gotta keep you on your toes, little man. If you’re gonna stick around Jinx, you’ll need thicker skin anyway.”

Jinx rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re the worst, Vi.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too, powder keg,” Vi teased, giving Jinx a wink before turning back to Ekko. “Seriously, though. Treat her right, or we’ll be having a real conversation.” She pointed to her fist as she spoke the last line. 

Ekko nodded, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Vi studied him for a moment, then nodded in approval. “Good answer.” She reached for her drink and raised it in a mock toast. “Welcome to the family, Ekko.”

Jinx groaned, her head hitting the table with a thud. “You’re impossible.”

“And proud of it,” Vi quipped with a laugh, her playful demeanor still intact. But as her gaze flicked back to Ekko, her expression softened. The teasing grin gave way to something gentler, quieter. “I mean it, though,” she said, her tone warm and sincere. “I’m glad it was you, Ekko.”

Ekko blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but he smiled back, his voice steady. “Thanks, Vi. That means a lot.”

Jinx peeked up from the table, her cheeks tinged pink, and muttered, “Alright, can we stop with the mushy stuff now? It’s weird.”

Vi’s laugh echoed through the room, her smirk firmly in place. “Never, Blue. This is just the beginning.”

Jinx rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan before tilting her head toward Vi. “Where’s your wife, anyway? It’s Christmas Eve.”

For a fleeting moment, Vi’s smirk faltered, replaced by a faint frown. She shrugged it off quickly, though, crossing her arms. “Working for the Crown does that to you.”

“I thought courts were closed for Christmas?” Ekko chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

“They are,” Vi replied with a sigh. “But that doesn’t mean a Crown attorney gets to take a break. Cases to prep, filings to review—stuff like that. Still, she promised she’d be here soon, so…” Her voice trailed off, but the faint trace of hope lingered.

As if on cue, the sound of the front door opening drew their attention. The faint shuffle of shoes being removed echoed from the hallway, followed by deliberate footsteps making their way toward the living room.

Caitlyn appeared in the doorway, wearing a long raincoat that dripped faintly from the winter drizzle outside. But it was the sweater beneath that stole the show—an ugly grandma Christmas sweater adorned with clashing patterns of reindeer, snowflakes, and a pale white star at the center. 

Jinx blinked, caught off guard. She was so used to Caitlyn’s polished, serious demeanor that this felt like seeing a completely different person. It was… disarming, strange enough to halt the teasing comment that had been forming on her lips.

Vi was the first to break the moment. Practically launching herself off the couch, she enveloped Caitlyn in a hug that knocked the faint drizzle off the raincoat and onto the floor. The sudden burst of affection pulled a warm smile from Caitlyn, one so soft and genuine it seemed to melt the tension that had lingered in Vi’s voice earlier.

Jinx watched the reunion silently from the couch, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. It wasn’t the same sharp ache she used to have, the one that felt like it might rip her apart, but a duller, quieter discomfort.

Ekko’s hand squeezed hers gently, his silent reassurance grounding her like a lifeline. Jinx’s shoulders eased slightly, and she took a slow breath, focusing on the steady warmth of Ekko’s presence beside her.

“Welcome home,” Vi said as she pulled back from the embrace, her voice carrying a soft fondness. “I’ll go set the table.”

Caitlyn nodded, her gaze following Vi as she glanced back briefly before disappearing into the kitchen. The brief quiet left in her absence settled over the room.

“Jinx,” Caitlyn greeted with a small nod, her tone polite but neutral, as if carefully treading a line neither of them wanted to cross just yet.

“Cait,” Jinx replied, her voice tight, the strain slipping through despite her attempt to keep it steady.

The air felt charged, an unspoken tension flickering between them. Ekko, as if sensing the subtle shift, rose to his feet with an easy confidence, breaking the quiet before it could settle too deeply.

With an outstretched hand and a warm, genuine smile, he introduced himself. “I’m Ekko. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Caitlyn blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the gesture, but quickly recovered. She reached out to shake his hand, her expression softening slightly at his unassuming demeanor. “Caitlyn,” she replied, her tone warming. “It’s nice to meet you, Ekko.”

Jinx almost let out a relieved sigh at the tension leaving her shoulders. 

Gratefully, the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Jinx could almost say she enjoyed it— almost . What made it bearable, and maybe even pleasant, was because Ekko and Caitlyn hit it off. Their conversation flowed naturally, with Ekko’s easy charm balancing Caitlyn’s composed nature.

It left Jinx free to sit with Vi, who chatted animatedly about anything and everything, filling the air with her energy. For once, Jinx felt she could relax without the constant weight of navigating strained relationships. She let herself smile at Vi’s jokes, nodding along as her sister recounted memories from their past with the kind of warmth only family could summon.

And for the first time, as she left the couple’s shared home, she didn’t feel weighed down, like she was dragging her feet through lead. The suffocating sensation that always came after seeing Vi wasn’t there. It wasn’t gone entirely—there was still an ache, still a dull pang—but it wasn’t sharp or unbearable.

It wasn’t bitter .

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ekko’s voice cut through her thoughts, his tone light and teasing.

Jinx gave a nonchalant shrug. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

Ekko huffed, opening the passenger door for her before moving around to the driver’s side. “Couldn’t be better, you mean.”

Jinx slid into the car, the familiar scent of the interior grounding her. She waited for Ekko to settle in beside her, the engine rumbling softly to life. When he did, she leaned back in her seat, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“Okay, let’s not get carried away, buster,” she teased, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

Ekko shot her a grin, his eyes flicking to her for a moment before checking the mirrors. “Admit it—you had a decent time.”

She tilted her head, pretending to ponder. “I guess… it didn’t completely suck,” she conceded with a dramatic sigh.

Ekko grinned, shifting the car into gear after making sure she was buckled in. “One step at a time.”

“One step at a time,” Jinx repeated as her gaze turned towards the window as the car pulled out. She didn’t say anything for a while, watching the passing lights blur into streaks of color, letting the steady rhythm of the car’s movement settle her. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, more sincere.

“Thanks… for tonight,” she murmured, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Ekko’s grip on the wheel tightened for a fraction of a second, a brief moment where his eyes met hers, but he didn’t break his focus on the road. His smile was warm, understated. “Anytime.”

Jinx smiled back, a genuine one, the kind that reached her eyes. And in that quiet moment, with the hum of the engine filling the space between them, she felt something settle inside her—a quiet reassurance. She didn’t have it all figured out, and not everything felt perfect, but that was okay. That was enough. 

—

Ekko sat back in the armchair of his apartment, his gaze soft as he watched Jinx hold Ryan. She was completely absorbed in the little guy, her smile wide and her eyes full of wonder as she gently rocked him in her arms. The sight filled him with something warm in his chest, a quiet happiness he hadn’t known.

“You’re whipped,” Scar’s voice broke the peaceful moment as he plopped down next to him, a teasing grin on his face.

Ekko rolled his eyes, but the small smile that tugged at his lips gave him away. “Shut up,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind it. 

Scar chuckled, nudging him with an elbow. “Look at you. You’re gone for her.”

Ekko shot him a side-eye, but he didn’t have the energy to fight back. “Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, his attention drifting back to Jinx, the affection in his chest softening further. “And I can kick you out anytime.”

Scar raised an eyebrow, an exaggerated gasp of mock offense escaping him. “You would never kick out a mother and child.”

Ekko smirked. “I never said anything about the mother and child.”

Scar chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow, this is all our years of friendship amounts to? Can’t even make fun of my friend for being whipped.”

Ekko snorted but reached for his glass, taking a sip. As he did, his eyes met Jinx’s, and the sight of her—calm and content with Ryan—was enough to stop him in his tracks. Then he noticed the unmistakable glint in her eye. Something mischievous. Something that made him feel a little anxious.

“I want one,” Jinx said, her voice casual as she continued to rock the baby.

Ekko choked on his drink, spluttering and trying to catch his breath. Scar, clearly unable to contain himself, let out a loud, roaring laugh.

Ekko cleared his throat. “I’m sorry?”

“I said I want one,” Jinx repeated, her gaze never leaving the baby in her arms. “A baby.”

Ekko’s skin seemed to lose all color as his friend keeled over next to him.

THE END