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Months after the battle with the Noxians life had returned to normal, at least what felt normal for the honorary leaders of zaun. Despite their new roles and responsibilities Ekko and Jinx were adjusting to their new lives.
After a long day of tinkering with things Sevika had asked for or making sense of half finished plans left on Silco’s desk after his death jinx finally trudged into the treehouse, easily ignoring the playing children and wary parents all around the secret hideout. She tries not to pay them any attention, maybe if she can ignore them she won’t have to remember her own life when she was that age. Making glitter bombs with Claggor, trying to outrun Mylo, futilely trying to learn boxing from Vi and of course Ekko. Her boy saviour. Her constant. Those memories she supposed weren’t as bad, at least she still had him in some form or another, even if she herself has changed.
It’s hard to wrap her head around, how she has been so many things to him, friend, found family, enemy and now….now whatever they are. She doesn’t really care about labels, not when she has bigger things on her mind but closure would be nice, a solid thing to point to when her mind starts to spiral, starts to turn her against her again. She wishes she had some word that would tick all the boxes, all the things they mean to each other, if she had a word for it maybe that nagging voice would stop screaming that she’s doing things wrong. She never did care about rules though.
So this is how Jinx found herself instantly thrown back into work as soon as she was ‘home’. She shrugged off her jacket at the door and left it in a heap. Jumping on to the bed she rummaged under it for Ekko’s board, gently pushing the blades so they spun for her. The small doodles she had graced the board with shifting and dancing, stark blue and pink and green and purple across the scratched silver of the blades. jinx always loved this, seeing her mark on his things, her influence. So she knew that even if he was away (which he never really was anyway) he’d remember her, she wouldn’t allow herself to fade into the background of his mind.
She pulled out an intricate toolset from god knows where and pried the blades off, hoping she could streamline it for use outside of the fissures, especially since the air quality was still changed by the Grey. She knew Ekko would nag her for messing with his things but she couldn’t help herself, if her hands weren’t busy her mind had to be. And so she worked feverishly for hours on such a small project, letting herself get caught on every small detail. Would a 30 or 31 degree tilt be better? Should she keep the same material or upgrade it? If she upgraded it would that mean she’d have to tinker with it less? Her mind whirred with questions and calculations, each one half formed and fighting for the center of her attention.
Just when she had lost track of time -Ekko’s board now spread out on the bed in a million pieces- was when her….., she stopped that thought in its tracks, was when Ekko returned. Stopping in his tracks when he saw her and the small army of tiny parts now decorating his bedspread. “Tell me that isn’t what I think it is” he warns, his voice thick and warm despite his worry
“Uh…I’m fixing it- and anyway it’ll fly much better now so really if you think about it-“
“Stop.”
The room goes quiet, Jinx’s silence out of a surprising amount of worry and Ekko’s out of shock she’s being quiet. *actually* quiet. No humming, no tapping, no ranting or babbling or any of her usual mannerisms to distract. Ekko just sighs “I asked for one thing only you know” he mutters, only partially angry as he carefully settles in next to Jinx.
Jinx doesn’t listen as Ekko recounts his day, solving disputes and watching Silcos old lackeys, now aimless and acting out. She rapidly rebuilds his board as he talks, her mind purely trying to keep the peace, she doesn’t know why she cares so much what he thinks of her.
When the bed is cleared and Ekko feels confident he can move freely without losing an integral part of his board to the cracked floorboards he moved on to his side, gazing up at Jinx though his lashes “no doodles today?” He hums lazily, half through a yawn as he watches her mostly clean hands work “your clothes too…..you feeling okay?”
Jinx doesn’t answer.
“Right….well I’m” he sighs “I’m alright to go to bed?” His dark eyes look practically puppy-like as he watches her every move. Jinx can’t seem to decide what she thinks of his words, why wouldn’t it be alright? Instead of asking the simple question and getting clarification jinx just hums a noncommittal “do what you want”. They both fall into silence and jinx eventually assumes he truly has fallen asleep “good” she thinks “at least one of us is sleeping” though when she tries to rest herself she can’t find comfort. The silence of the room letting the long dead voices in her head take control, deafeningly screaming at her. Blaming her for what she’s done. No. They’re blaming Powder, Powder doesn’t exist. She died with Mylo. With Claggor. With vander.
As she tosses and turns, growling quiet “shut up!”’s and “no”’s she feels a steady and warm hand on her shoulder “Bluejay” it warns “don’t force it, you know you can just talk it out with me” but she doesn’t look to him, maybe she can’t.
Instead she pulls away, her back to him as she reaches for the messy collection of paint pens already pulling the cap off of a deep blue one and scrawling down her skin, freeing her thoughts as she paints clouds and wind, her mind regurgitating memories that feel so long ago.
Again she feels a hand on her shoulder, eventually Ekko pulls her gently to face him. Without a word he shifts closer, his arm presented to her before he adds quietly “….i know you prefer it”
Jinx pauses. Has she gotten that easy to read? I mean surely he doesn’t understand it though? Doesn’t understand it’s to tie her down, to keep connected, to give her links to the world. The real world, not the nightmare in her head. Whatever the reason she slowly moved into his lap, sat between his thighs with her own thighs lazily thrown over one of his.
It’s then she uncaps the murky blue, letting the pen dance over his skin. She lets her mind free, all she feels about him, about herself, all that she’s done and everything she’ll never be able to say, slowly decorating his skin with everything she feels. When she’s finished with the blue, it’s deep swirling depths almost blending in with his dark skin she throws the pen aside, not caring where it rolls under the bed. Taking a vibrant pink, a complete opposite and drawing small erratic lines, stars and explosions and scratchy scribbles, in Ekko’s opinion ruining the smooth flowing lines of blue but he says nothing. Just letting her claim him, letting her do as she wants, as she needs.
So jinx does, drawing frantically before switching colours seemingly at random, now she paints with a stark black, chunky cogs and crowns, a piltie badge that she then drowns in red pen (“subtle, love” Ekko thinks) and with the red she continues…
Hours later Ekko’s clothes litter the floor of the treehouse, Jinx’s blue locks, now choppy, short and layered, spread over the pillow as she lays silently beside Ekko. He hopes she’s sleeping peacefully. As he looks down at himself he smiles, he feels finally like he’s broken through, like he understands at least some small part of his chaotic bluejay. Humming to himself contentedly he cuddles up close to Jinx, pressing as close to her as he can from behind, arms around her torso as he easily maneuvers her.
If Jinx’s way of feeling close is by spilling her thoughts onto him then his is by practically trying to crawl into her skin. He brushes a few long strands of blue out of the way, gently kissing the grown out buzzcut of half of her head. All of his worries momentarily forgotten as he lays in their small bubble of peace.