Chapter Text
Great.
This was just great.
This fucking world always found new ways to screw her over. It wasn’t just the bad luck following her around like a stray dog, no, that would be too easy. No, her life had to be a whole circus. Like earlier this week, when her alarm didn’t go off, she missed the bus, had to run to work, and still got there late enough to earn yet another lecture from her boss. Or yesterday, when some random lady walking her dog thought it’d be fun to unclip the leash and let the little monster run straight into her, knocking her down and cracking her phone screen. Obviously, the lady didn’t want to pay for it and, cherry on top, called Jinx a bitch for not wanting to “play” with her dumbass dog.
Or last night. That was just the cherry of cherries. After dragging herself home from work two hours late, staring at her empty pantry and deciding she deserved to eat something decent for once, she ordered pizza through one of those shitty delivery apps. She waited an hour. And then another. And when she finally checked, she realized the driver had eaten her food. Ate it. The app sent her a cheerful “We’re sorry! Your refund will be processed in 7 business days” message like that was supposed to make her less tired, less hungry, or less twenty dollars.
So she went for the only option she had left: instant ramen. Better than an empty stomach. At least, that’s what she thought. Because this morning she woke up with her stomach flipping like a broken gear, ran straight to the bathroom, and threw up everything she didn’t eat last night.
Perfect way to start the day.
She still dragged herself out of bed, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, grabbed her bag, and caught the bus to Piltover. The usual: earbuds in, forehead pressed against the glass, eyes half-shut as the city blurred past. Today everything smelled worse, the smoke, rust, and something sharp, chemical. And then, just across the bridge, the whole world shifted. Clean streets. Bright lights. Perfect smiles on people who never had to fight for the scraps. She hated it. She hated working in Piltover, hated how one stupid bridge decided who had a future and who didn’t.
By the time she reached the building, her legs felt heavy, her stomach still queasy. Maybe it was because she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Or maybe because the nausea just wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone. Maybe she should see a doctor. Another day, she told herself. Another day when she didn’t have to climb a million stairs just to sit in her office and spend ten hours staring at endless components for a paycheck that barely covered rent.
Another fucking day.
Right now, all she wanted was for the day to be over. Better yet, the whole month, so she could be closer to her vacation. Because Piltover had to have something good, didn’t they? They had this thing where, once you got a registered job, you earned two sweet weeks of paid time off. And by the end of next month, she’d be enjoying it. Maybe that’s all she needed. Then she could finally do all those boring things her therapist was always nagging her about. Medical checkups. Fixing the cooler in her fridge. Helping her dads with the bar. Letting Vi and her fancy girlfriend visit. Getting her brothers proper gifts for their apartments.
All the little things piling up in the back of her head because she was always so damn tired week after week. Too tired to do anything. Even to talk to Ekko.
She walked into her office, dropped her bag on the chair, and spotted a yellow sticky note on her laptop:
“The delivery was brought forward to Tuesday. Good luck — Viktor.”
She let out a frustrated scream and collapsed into her chair.
So yeah. Please, please don’t tell her she’s being dramatic when she calls herself a Jinx.
She carried her morning the best she could. Contrary to what everyone seemed to think, she really did try her best and, honestly, she was good at what she did. She always delivered her projects on time, with minor or no errors at all. She was cordial, helpful with her colleagues, always jumping in to lend a hand on other projects, even when there was no bonus or even a thank-you waiting for her. She measured her words, her tone, her every movement, because being from Zaun in this city was already reason enough for people to find an excuse to get her fired.
So she let out some steam under her breath and got the job done. Because she could, and she knew she could. And no deadline or nausea was going to beat her.
It was almost lunch when her phone buzzed against the desk. The cracked screen lit up with a message:
FAT HANDS: are u up for movies tonight? Mylo’s place
Jinx’s face softened despite herself. She tapped back quickly: yup, got some red beer and snacks. I’ll be there at 9.
Violet reacted with a simple thumbs-up emoji.
Well, at least with all her bad luck, she still had plans for Friday night. Not the worst outcome for an almost thirty-year-old single lady who hadn’t been on a date in years, and hadn’t…
…well. No. That wouldn’t be entirely accurate.
Her phone buzzed again.
FAT HANDS: Is Ekko coming?
She stared at the screen, not knowing what to type back. Not even knowing what to feel, other than that weird thistle twisting low in her stomach. She exhaled slowly, her thumbs moving before she could think twice.
"don’t know"
A lie. She knew. He wouldn’t be there. Just like he hadn’t been at the last three get-togethers.
She hated that little sting in her chest every time his name came up. Like some switch she didn’t know how to turn off. Months, years even, and somehow he could still get under her skin without even trying. Without even being there.
She put her phone down, screen facing the desk, because she didn’t have the energy to respond anymore. She knew what came next: Vi telling her how Ekko barely replied to her texts, how he always made the worst excuses, how he didn’t even show up at the gym anymore. And after that, Vi would insist she should talk to him. “He always listens to you, Pow. I’m worried he’s in a bad place again… with all that shit.”
Jinx exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair, eyes tracing the mess of blueprints scattered over her desk. There were words she could say — explanations, excuses, confessions — but none of them felt like they’d come out right. Not yet.
She groaned, rubbing her scalp with both hands until it hurt, then shoved the phone into her drawer and got back to work.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. At least her job had its moments — even if the constant buzzing of the machines and the endless coding made her head spin, it kept her from overthinking. By the end of her shift, the project was almost done.
Fuck you, Victor, and your deadline.
— Sissy — Mylo greeted her with a tired but warm smile as soon as she walked through the door — Hey, let me get that — he said, taking the plastic bag from her hands before she could even protest.
— Thanks, Mylo — she muttered, managing an equally tired smile as she kicked off her shoes, letting them land somewhere near the wall, and shuffled toward the kitchen.
Her brother was already there, emptying a family-sized bag of chips into a bowl.
— Claggor? — she asked while reaching up to grab a couple of glasses from the cabinet.
— Store run — Mylo snorted — Probably hunting down that crime-against-desserts he calls mint chocolate ice cream —
She made a face, half disgust and half mock horror.
The thing with Claggor and his chocolate mint ice cream wasn’t the mint or the chocolate. It was that he only liked the cheap, knock-off brand — the one that tasted like someone dropped toothpaste into a bucket of sugar. In her opinion, it wasn’t ice cream. It was punishment.
— Vi and Miss Fancy are on their way — Mylo added, balancing the bowl in one hand as they moved to the living room.
She followed him, tray of glasses in hand, and set them down on the coffee table while he disappeared back into the kitchen. By the time she collapsed onto the couch, limbs heavy, she was already pulling the mini blanket over herself like some exhausted burrito.
— Pow, Are you still sick? — Mylo’s voice came from the kitchen, muffled by the clink of bottles. Then he appeared, six-pack in hand, his brows furrowed as he really looked at her — You look… I don’t know, paler than usual. Are you still nauseous? —
— Mhmm, not like right now but I threw up this morning — she mumbled, burrowing into the blanket — Been feeling like shit these days. Maybe it’s the flu or maybe that weird liquor that Vander gave us was rancid —
— I can call Gert — he said as he plopped down on the armrest beside her, close enough to hand her the bowl of chips — She could check you out, and get you a note for a few days off —
Gert, the group’s nurse — and for some mysterious reason, now her sister-in-law — always helped them get a few days off.
— I just need a good night’s sleep, Mylo — she scoffed, taking a handful of chips.
— Yeah, maybe — he chuckled, cracking a beer — But maybe, just maybe, you could ask your amazing big brother for a favor and get a week of sleep. You know she doesn’t mind, and we both know they don’t pay you enough to look this dead —
She huffed a laugh, shaking her head as she chewed, but didn’t argue.
— Mhmm I will think about it — she said, taking a beer from the table.
— Don't let it sit on your empty mind too much or it will get lost — he said with a laugh and she softly punched him on the arm.
— Talking about Gert, Is she working? —
— yup — he said taking a sip from his beer — Her shift ends at 9 tomorrow morning —
Before she could even take a sip, Mylo took the can from her hands.
— no no no — he said with a disapproving motion — no alcohol for you miss vomit, just water and juice, you are probably more dehydrated than you think — he gave her a water bottle
— You are no fun these days — taking a sip from it.
Between their chit chat the door slid open, revealing her sister.
— Hey, I hope both of you didn’t eat everything before we came! — Violet said walking to them.
She is indeed a big woman, not tall but really bulky. What a firefighter ate these days? Violet proceeds to lift her up with a big hug and a smile big as her. She always does this thing were se lift her with three little jumps like she waited nothing.
— How's my Pow-Pow? — Violet asks with a grain, while she puts her down.
— Fine Fat hands — she reply
— O and my baby brother??? — she turn around a did the same to Mylo
— Vi you are crushing me — he protested a little
— you are growing soft mylo — she added put it him down — you could use some days at the Gym with me and C —
— No thanks, I already see you're ugly face too much —
Jinx barely got a view of the door with her sister blocking her sight but she heard Caitlyn voice and Claggor. The footsteps sounded some place in the kitchen now, probably they were unpacking. She waited there, even when the door closed, and Mylo and Vi got the other puff for him, she waited for Ekko to appear. To open the door, to announce himself, to tell her that he brought her favorite sour chips. To just be there.
But he never came.
Just like the other times, she sat in her place and pretended to be okay with it. The others showed up, filling their usual spots, and just like that the right side of the couch felt too wide, too empty. But that’s fine, isn’t it? It’s not like he’s obligated to come, or to always hang out with them, with her. They’re all adults now, with more responsibilities and less free time.
She didn’t know how, but it was like they’d read her mind. If Ekko wasn’t in the room, then he was definitely in the conversation.
— Guess he’s busy. Probably on a date — Mylo muttered, grabbing another beer.
— Still on those dumb dating apps? I thought he deleted Tinder after that Christmas fiasco with the married fitness guy — Claggor shot back from the kitchen — that was some fucked up shit —
— Like his wasn’t already fucked up — Jinx bit the inside of her cheek — He’s fine — she said flatly, eyes glued to the TV that wasn’t even on yet.
Vi sat down on her other side, arms crossed. Claggor came along, sinking into his chair.
— Pow, he doesn’t text back. He doesn’t show up. Not even at the gym anymore. You’re really telling me nothing’s wrong? — Claggor said, tossing his phone on the table with his open chat. Ekko hadn’t even read the messages.
— Maybe you’re just boring, C — Jinx muttered.
Vi narrowed her eyes, but Caitlyn let out a soft chuckle. Then Mylo and Jinx laughed at her poor attempt to dismiss.
— Can you take it seriously? I’m really worried — Vi’s voice cut through the laughter, sharp and heavy. The room fell silent — Something’s happening —
— You can’t make people talk just because you want to — Jinx said, tired — He’ll come around —
At least she hoped so, though she couldn’t say that out loud. That would only lead to things that were definitely not for them to know.
— But what if he’s talking to Ezreal again?—
The air left her lungs in a rush. Her stomach knotted. Mylo’s hand found her shoulder, steady, grounding. She let out a shaky breath. No. It wasn’t that. At least, not anymore.
Before Jinx could answer, Caitlyn’s calm voice cut in.
— If Jinx says he’s fine, then maybe he is. At the end of the day, she knows him best —
Jinx blinked, surprised. It wasn’t often she and Caitlyn ended up on the same side of anything. Vi sighed, frustrated, leaning back into the couch, like she knew she had gone too far. That name wasn’t welcome. Neither was the idea of Ekko being near him.
— Yeah, sorry… I just… I’m worried —
The conversation died down after that, smothered by the start of the movie. Jinx pulled the blanket tighter, her eyelids heavy with each passing minute. The chatter around her blurred, laughter and arguments over snacks fading into a soft hum.
By the time the credits rolled, she was already gone, curled up small on the couch, fast asleep.
The next thing she knew, light stabbed at her eyes.
Jinx blinked awake. For a second, she had no idea where she was; then, with a glance, she knew. The small guest room. The one Gert kept for her mother, or for nights like this, when Jinx needed a place to crash.
The bed was old but soft. It reminded her of her childhood one, the bunk bed Vander had built after Vi outgrew sharing. The same bed they’d kept even when Silco’s business got bigger and they moved into a nicer house. They still had it.
She sighed and checked her phone. 9:37. She needed to get going. A glass of water sat on the nightstand. She downed it in one go before dragging herself upright. Her head felt heavy, her mouth dry despite the damp weather, and her stomach was queasy again.
After pulling on her jacket, she padded into the kitchen, hair still messy from her blanket cocoon.
— Morning, Pow — Mylo greeted between bites of toast, Gert’s oversized sweater drowning him as usual. He looked way too awake for this hour. Probably waiting for Gert to come home.
She missed that feeling.
— Morning — she croaked, forcing a smile.
— You crashed hard. Figured you’d be sore if we let you on the couch all night —
— Yeah, thanks — She stole a piece of his toast and shoved it into her mouth.
By the time she laced her boots and said her goodbyes, Claggor was still half-asleep on the couch, muttering something about a code. Vi and Caitlyn were long gone—probably hadn’t even stayed over. Jinx slipped out quietly, her bag slung over her shoulder.
The morning air in Zaun was damp and sharp, hitting her lungs like metal. She pulled her jacket tighter and kept walking.
Halfway down the street, it hit her again. Her stomach lurched violently. She darted into the nearest alley just in time to lean against the wall and retch until her throat burned. Nothing much came out, she hadn’t eaten enough, but it left her trembling, sweat prickling at her hairline.
— Fuck… — she muttered, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. — Can’t a girl have a normal Saturday morning? —
She stood there for a moment, catching her breath, before pulling out her phone. Probably nothing, but… The cracked screen lit up with her calendar. She stared at the date, thumb tracing the numbers as if they could give her answers. Her chest tightened.
With a long, shaky exhale, she shoved the phone back into her pocket and stepped out of the alley.
On the corner, a neon sign flickered weakly over the doorway of a pharmacy. She stopped, staring at it. The noise of the street dulled, like her brain was giving her space to make the choice she didn’t want to make.
— Grow up, Jinx. It’s not the end fucking of the world—
She sighed, shoulders sinking, and pushed the door open.