Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The poster was newer than most of the garbage that clung to the alley wall, ink barely faded under the grime and water stains. It caught Ekko’s eye before he realized what he was looking at.

JINX.

WANTED.

Big, blocky letters above a sketch that got too much right. Wide, feral eyes. Hair that didn’t quite obey gravity. The shape of her mouth like she was about to smirk or snap.

He stared.

For a long time, he didn’t move.

The ache in his ankle flared faintly, as if to remind him of the last time he saw that face. He shifted his weight without thinking, just enough to ease it, just enough to remember how it happened. The bridge. The fight. The explosion.

And her—crumpled.

He could still see it when he closed his eyes. Still haunted him whenever he did. Her body twisted at a wrong angle, blood soaking into the stone. Braids trailing matted and twisted like it had been caught by the wind and left behind. He'd thought she was dead. Had to think it.

But he'd knelt beside her. Pressed two fingers under her jaw. The skin had been warm, tacky with soot and blood. The pulse was there—weak, faint, barely holding on—throbbing beneath her broken skin.

And someone had been coming. He'd heard footsteps—too many, too close. His leg was fucked. He couldn’t carry her. He couldn't stay.

So, he left.

And now—this.

She was alive.

Some part of him should’ve felt relief. Should’ve unclenched. Should’ve breathed.

Instead, his stomach churned.

Ekko dropped his gaze from the poster, then looked back—because he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just her he was seeing. It was them. Jinx. Powder. The girl who built traps from scrap and always wanted to be brave until she broke.

It was the girl whose face he’d slammed into concrete until he saw blood. He still didn’t know if he had done so in anger or heartbreak.

He swallowed.

The weight of that moment—her eyes just before she pulled the pin—rushed back like the blast itself. He remembered that flicker in her gaze, that split-second where Powder was there. Was still there. And how he’d hesitated.

How it hadn’t mattered.

His hand twitched at his side. He could still feel the memory of her cheekbone under his knuckles. That bone-deep impact that had felt like betrayal even as he delivered it.

He felt sick.

Ekko dragged in a breath through his nose, shook his head.

This wasn’t the time.

Wasn’t the place.

He turned from the poster and started walking again, hood up, steps uneven but steady. His ankle throbbed—dull and persistent—but he welcomed it.

It reminded him what still hurt.

And who was still breathing.

Zaun had always been a place where people moved fast and watched their backs—but lately, something had shifted. Felt different.

Ekko walked the edge of the Lanes with his hood up, the sharp weight of his hoverboard on his back, and his steps light despite the dull ache in his healing ankle. He noticed the difference in the air. The way even the old women who used to sell herbs on corners walked quicker now. How no one lingered. How voices dropped to murmurs in the shadow of narrow alleys.

He figured it was the chem barons—always hungry, always circling like scavengers around rotting carrion. Silco’s death had cracked the whole undercity open. And now it was bleeding.

Still, he hadn’t expected to cross paths with anyone. Not until he caught the shape of a cloaked figure up ahead, walking a little hunched. Not unusual. Not suspicious. But something—

Something made him slow.

The figure moved like they were trying to disappear. Like the cloak wasn’t for warmth, but for armour. Not unusual in the Lanes, but the figure’s gate felt familiar in a way his eyes couldn’t pull away from.

They turned a corner just as Ekko’s gaze sharpened—a flick of blue. Two ends of braid whipping behind them, barely visible under the hem.

His heart stuttered.

No fucking way.

He picked up his pace.

Not running. Not yet. Just long, quick strides until he slipped around the corner and into the alley behind her.

“Hey,” he said.

It came out quiet, half a breath. Not her name. He didn’t know if he could say it with the posters looming over them in the dim light.

The figure stopped.

Ekko moved slowly. No sudden gestures. Just cautious steps forward, eyes tracking every line of her posture. She hadn’t turned. Hadn’t bolted. That alone was strange.

He saw her shoulders lift slightly as she took a breath—and then she half-turned, enough that the hood slipped a little and her face caught the faint light of a flickering overhead lamp.

His breath caught.

“You’re alive,” he said, more to himself than to her.

Her face barely moved—just a flicker at her mouth, brittle, like a joke she didn’t care enough to finish.

“Unfortunately.”

Her voice was raspier than he remembered. Not jagged like it had been on the bridge. It was just… tired.

She hadn’t raised her gun, but it was in her hand, half-lifted, like a reflex. Like she didn’t even realize she’d drawn it.

Ekko held his ground, hands empty and low.

“You gonna shoot me?” he asked.

Jinx blinked slowly, then looked down at the weapon in her hand like she’d forgotten it was there. She let it fall to her side.

“Nah,” she said. “Too much work.”

Her hood stayed up, casting her face in shadow. But he saw the eyes. Bright—not sky blue. Pinkish. Gleaming weakly in the dark. Full of shimmer.

The sight made his gut twist.

“Are you—” He hesitated. “Are you using shimmer?”

She scoffed, like the idea offended her.

“Oh, please. It’s always the holy war with you, isn’t it?.” Her voice was sharper this time, but it dulled again just as fast. “I’m not using.”

He studied her face, gathering each detail with what felt like a kind of quiet urgency. Skin a little too pale. The pink of her eyes catching in the low light like something burning under her skin.

“Your eyes,” he said quietly.

Jinx’s jaw tensed. She looked away.

“Wasn't up to me.”

Ekko’s lips thinned.

“What happened?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Got blown up. Got fixed. Came out different.” Her voice was light, empty. “The usual. Lucky me.”

She didn’t elaborate.

And for now, he let her keep the silence.

They stood there, quiet except for the hum of a pipe overhead.

Then she started to turn.

He stepped forward instinctively. “Jinx—”

“Don’t.”

She didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t turn back. Just kept walking.

And he didn’t follow.

He just stood there in the alley, feet rooted to the cobblestone, watching the blue of her braids disappear again into shadows.

Ekko had thought he let her go.

Again.

And maybe that was supposed to be it. Maybe that moment in the alley had been the last—her walking off into the smog with her hood pulled low and her eyes unreadable. He’d told himself not to chase her. Told himself he didn’t have it in him to fight her again.

But then there she was.

Folded into herself like some forgotten thing, crouched low on a rusted catwalk that jutted out above the undercity fog. Arms wrapped around her knees. Head bowed. The skyline behind her bruised in industrial twilight.

She didn’t look up as he approached, not even when the low hum of his hoverboard sliced through the air.

The catwalk rattled under the weight of his landing, metal groaning with the quiet threat of collapse. He kicked the board up into his hand with practiced ease, boots steady on the grating.

Still, she didn’t move.

“What,” she muttered, voice low and flat, “you got a thing for gatecrashing all my pity parties?”

Her chin stayed on her knees, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the haze. She didn’t sound angry. She didn’t sound like much of anything.

Ekko opened his mouth, closed it again. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here.

He stood there for a beat too long, unsure if he should leave or stay or say something clever that might knock her walls loose and make her look more alive. But nothing came.

So, he walked forward instead.

He moved deliberate slowness, like the moment might break if he made too much noise. Carefully, he lowered himself down beside her, tucking his hoverboard against the railing, back curved to match the slump in hers.

She still didn’t look at him, but her voice curled up sharp anyway.

“Didn’t say you could sit.”

Ekko gave a half-shrug, arms resting on his knees.

“Luckily, I didn’t ask.”

A flicker of something passed over her face—something fleeting that tugged at one corner of her mouth, but it faded before it could take proper shape. The silence settled thick around them, a familiar companion neither of them minded much.

It stretched for a while.

Then Ekko spoke, quiet but clear.

“You look like hell.”

Jinx didn’t respond at first. Her gaze stayed locked on the sprawl of Zaun beneath them—smoggy rooftops, flickering lights, and refinery fires. Her arms were still wrapped around her legs like she was holding herself in place, like if she let go, she might scatter.

Then finally, she spoke, dry and half-swallowed.

“Been a long couple weeks.”

Ekko huffed out a humourless breath through his nose. “You could say that.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, letting his voice drop quieter.

“I thought… after the bridge… when the grenade went off—”

She tensed just barely. Her jaw ticked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“—I thought you were gonna die.”

Jinx shifted like she was about to say something sharp and acidic, laced with venom—but he didn’t give her the chance.

“I didn’t want you to,” he said, quick yet firm. “I don’t want you to. Even if you’re walking like you already are.”

Jinx went still.

The silence that followed wasn’t the same as before.  Stillness pressing in—taut and fragile, like glass waiting to crack.

When she did speak again, her voice was lower, more uneven. Still shaped like a smirk, but the edges cracked if you listened close.

(Ekko was.)

“Oh, look.” Her lips curled faintly. “The Boy-Saviour’s at it again.”

Ekko turned his head toward her, but held his tongue.

She went on, voice quieter now. “What’s the plan this time? You gonna fix me with a pep talk? Drag me outta here kicking and screaming? How long’s it gonna take before you give up again?”

It cut through the space between them, unfiltered and closer to the bone than she seemed to realize at first. Her voice faltered just slightly, rougher around the vowels, cracking at then end.

Ekko blinked, thrown for a beat.

“Again?” he echoed. He looked at her more closely now. “You mean… way back then? With Silco?”

Her gaze slipped sideways, jaw tightening like she was locking something in behind the cage of her teeth.

He remembered it—vividly. It was impossible to forget sting of her palm striking his cheek, the disbelief, the ache. And his feet turning, walking away.

He remembered giving up.

“I thought you meant it,” he said, slowly, trying to feel the shape of the memory from this new angle. “When you said you didn’t want saving.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, but something about her mouth shifted—like the words were wrong. Like they hurt.

He added, more quietly, “I thought I had to let you go.”

A long pause.

“Guess that makes two of us,” she muttered, voice flat but hoarse.

There was damage there that shimmer hadn’t cured. He knew it. Felt it. And this time, he didn’t look away. Ekko stared at the hollowed-out version of the girl he once knew and saw the wounds he’d left behind, too.

She hadn’t truly wanted him to leave that day.

He just had.

Jinx hadn’t said anything else. She just kept staring out into the haze like she was looking for something out there—maybe a shape, maybe a version of herself that never made it back.

Ekko rubbed his hands together, not from the cold but to keep them from shaking. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was hushed and rough around the edges.

“We were just kids.”

His eyes stayed forward too, but he felt her shift subtly next to him.

“And everything... it was already too much. For anyone. I didn’t know what to do. You slapped me and—” He stopped. Exhaled through his nose. “It felt easier to believe you meant it.”

A long silence.

Jinx didn’t react.

But something about her had drawn in tighter. Her shoulders curling in, her jaw working slightly like she was chewing something sharp.

“You probably did the smart thing,” she muttered finally, voice thin, barely audible over the hum of the city. “You’d’ve ended up dead. Or worse.”

He turned toward her slightly, brows knit.

“Worse than dead?”

The implication hung in the air like a noose.

It made his stomach lurch, nausea curling up his throat like bile.

“You really think that?” he asked. “That being near you… being with you… that’s what’s dangerous?”

Her silence was an answer.

He looked at her longer now, eyes tracing the profile of her face in the half-light. The bruised shadows under her eyes. The faint shimmer glow behind her lashes. The way she didn’t blink. Like if she kept still enough, she’d disappear.

He leaned forward a little, elbows back on his knees. Spoke slower this time.

“You think I would’ve ended up like—like the others. Like everybody else who left you.”

Jinx didn’t move.

But her fingers clenched tighter where they gripped her knees.

“You really believe that?” he pressed.

She gave the smallest nod. Blinked once. “Doesn’t matter what I believe.”

Ekko shook his head, frustrated—not with her, but with how deep the rot had gone.

“It does matter. You’re not poison, Jinx.”

At that, her head finally turned. Not all the way. Just enough for him to see her eyes—sharp, wounded, gleaming pink under the cloak’s shadow.

“You don’t know that,” she said, almost too quiet.

“I know you,” Ekko said. “Or—I used to.”

Jinx’s expression twisted at that. She made a sound like a laugh, but it caught in her chest before it became one.

“Yeah, well.” Her voice cracked just slightly. “Powder’s long gone now.”

Ekko looked at her for a long, still moment as the words settled between them.

“I still see her,” he said, without flinching.

Jinx’s shoulders drew tight. Her hands flexed on her knees, then stilled.

But he didn’t stop there. His voice stayed low—honest, not pleading.

“But no one stays the same forever. Powder’s not dead. She’s just… different. We all are.” He glanced at her. “That’s just life.”

Jinx didn’t turn, but he caught the slight tilt of her head. Listening.

“I’m not expecting you to fit some old coat that doesn’t fit anymore,” he went on. “But you don’t have to wear the one they gave you, either.”

His voice softened further.

“You could make your own. Pick the pieces. Sew it how you want.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Then her chin dipped a fraction. She exhaled through her nose.

“I don’t have the material.”

The words were quiet. Not bitter—just stripped bare.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“I can help you find some,” he said. “If you want.”

Her shoulders lifted with the beginning of a laugh, but it never quite made it out. She shook her head slightly, like he didn’t know what he was offering.

They let the quiet stretch—uncomfortable, maybe, but not unbearable

Then, after a beat:

“Not everyone leaves because they want to,” Ekko said.

Jinx tensed again.

He kept his tone careful, cautious. “Vi didn’t walk away from you. She said she was arrested. Taken.”

Jinx turned her head slowly, eyes meeting his. Pink, distant, hollow—but sharp behind the blur.

“Is that what she told you?”

Ekko frowned, caught off-guard. “That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

Jinx’s voice was flat. “She was already gone before they came.”

He blinked. “What—?”

“She left me,” Jinx said, too calmly. “By Vander’s body. I was crying. Screaming. She hit me. Called me a jinx.” Her mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Then she turned around and walked away.”

Ekko’s throat constricted.

“She looked at me like I was something broken. Something dangerous. And then she left.”

Jinx leaned her head back against the wall the catwalk was mounted on, eyes unfocused now, like she wasn’t talking to him so much as remembering something she wished she could forget.

“That was before the enforcers showed up,” she added, almost offhanded. “So, don’t tell me she didn’t leave by choice.”

Ekko swallowed. His throat felt raw. He remembered the way Vi had said I should have been there like it was a confession. He’d thought she meant prison. Years.

But Jinx wasn’t talking about years.

She was talking about minutes.

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice rough.

Jinx closed her eyes for a moment.

“I know,” she murmured.

Ekko looked down at his hands.

“She really called you that?” he asked. “Jinx?”

There was a long silence. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but firm.

“Milo used to. Then you all did. After a while.”

He flinched.

The weight of that—of how easily they’d let it become her instead of something that had happened to her.

“Is that where it came from?” he asked. “The name?”

Jinx didn’t answer at first. Then she turned her face to him. Calm. Clear.

“No,” she said. “I made it mine.”

He nodded slowly, unsure whether that made it better or worse.

“Powder…” he tried, gently.

"No."

The word cut the air clean.

She looked at him properly then, gaze steady. Not angry—but something bracing behind her eyes. Like she’d built a wall there and dared him to climb over it.

“You don’t get to use that,” she said. “Not anymore.”

Ekko nodded, just once. Acknowledging it.

They sat in the quiet again without speaking, but it wasn’t as fraught this time—heavy, yes. But like a burden shared between two.

The sounds of Zaun murmured below—distant hissing pipes, a radio crackling somewhere, the low hum of machinery working long past its prime. Above them, the smog diffused what little starlight filtered down into their crack in the earth.

Ekko leaned back slightly, letting his spine press to the crumbling wall behind them.

He’d said what he came to say—not that he had known what that was before he started. But the words were gone now, and something inside him had gone still.

Whether she let any of it in was hers to decide.

For a while, he thought maybe that was it. That they’d said everything they could without losing the fragile thread that held them here.

Then Jinx shifted.

Just enough that her shoulder barely brushed his arm, but she didn’t linger there.

Her voice came low, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to say it—or if she could.

“It shouldn’t have gone that way.”

Ekko blinked.

She didn’t clarify, immediately.

The years of blood between them. The bodies. The street fights. The Firelights that didn’t come home. The names he didn’t say anymore. The ache she wore now—like only now did she see the cost.

He glanced sideways. Her face was still turned forward, eyes trained on nothing. But her jaw was tight, and her hands were balled in the fabric of her cloak at her knees like she had to hold herself together.

“All of it,” she murmured. “The turf wars. The firelight raids. Silco’s bullshit crusade. Wasn’t even for anything. And now he’s dead, and I…” She trailed off, then gave a dry, empty laugh. “Guess I still am too.”

Ekko’s throat tightened.

Not because she was wrong. But because she’d said it like a fact. Like it was obvious.

She tilted her head back against the wall again, staring upward into the polluted night.

“Sometimes I think maybe I knew, even while it was happening. That it was gonna end like this.” Her voice was steadier now, but quieter. “But I didn’t know how to stop. And it felt too late to turn around.”

She didn’t say sorry.

No apologies.

Not here. Not now.

But the words lingered in the air like it might hold the beginnings of one.

Ekko turned his gaze back toward the city, eyes tracing the rusted outlines of rooftops through the fog. His chest felt heavy, but not in the same way it used to when he thought of her.

Jinx shifted again—almost imperceptibly—but this time she didn’t move away when their arms touched.

Ekko stayed quiet for a while longer.

Then, finally:

“It doesn’t have to be for nothing.”

No words. Just the smallest incline of her head, like she wasn’t ready to say yes or no either way.

Jinx let out a long breath. It came from somewhere deep, like it had been stuck inside her for days—weeks—and was only now finding a way out. Her body slumped forward slightly with it, some invisible weight loosening but not lifting.

Ekko watched her from the corner of his eye. The slope of her shoulders, the dried soot smudged along her cheek, the way her legs had curled tighter beneath her again. She looked like someone who had been burning for days and had finally started to cool—still smouldering, but quiet now like her miserable embers were dying out.

A little less dead behind the eyes.

He hesitated, then asked, “Where are you staying?”

Jinx picked at flake of colour on one of her nails. “Around.”

The word landed limp.

Ekko tilted his head. “That so?”

She didn’t answer.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” he said. Not as an accusation. Just a fact.

She gave a dry snort. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

He froze for a second. The words hung too heavy in the air.

He didn’t like the way she said it.

Didn’t like how easy it rolled out of her mouth. Like maybe she’d thought about it too much. Like it wasn’t just a phrase.

“I’ve had enough of thinking you were dead,” he said quietly. “You don’t get to joke about it.”

That made her glance at him—just briefly, just enough.

He looked back, steady. “Come on.”

“What for?”

“You need to clean up. You need sleep.” He stood, brushing his hands off on his pants. “The real kind. Not this halfway-dead shit.”

She didn’t move.

He shifted his weight, looked down at her. “You can’t keep living like a ghost, Jinx. You sleep like that long enough, you start forgetting you’re still here.”

She blinked slowly, the words catching something in her throat.

He softened his tone—not pleading. Just honest.

“You’re still here.”

She bit her lip and stared out at the haze again one final time.

Then, with a rusted creak of metal, she silently pushed herself to her feet.

Ekko didn’t smile. Just nodded, and started walking.

After a moment, she followed.

The walk had been quiet—like both of them were afraid the wrong word might tip the balance they'd found. Ekko didn’t offer explanations, and Jinx didn’t ask where they were going. She just followed, a step or two behind, her boots light but dragging at the edges. He could hear it in the way her footfalls faltered on rusted metal, like her body had finally admitted how tired it was.

They slipped through a side corridor beneath one of the old lift arms, past a door half-eaten by corrosion and marked with paint long since faded. Ekko shoved it open with his shoulder. The hinges groaned, but didn’t resist.

Inside was a room barely large enough to hold the things he'd pieced together—a beaten up armchair, a narrow bed against the wall, a shelf with odds and ends he never unpacked. It had once been part of an industrial workstation, long abandoned like many of the others in undercity. Now it was just… quiet. Out of the way. Safe, in the kind of way most places in Zaun weren’t anymore.

Jinx lingered near the door.

Ekko moved to the cabinet, pulled out a loose shirt, a towel, a pair of drawstring shorts. Held them out without a word.

She took them the same way.

Still no words.

“There’s a shower,” he said, quietly like me might break something. He nodded toward the small bathroom—barely more than a closet with tiled walls and a thin sliding door. “Hooked it up to the water system a while back. It’s warm enough, if you let it run a bit.”

She looked at it for a beat, then walked past him, the bundle tucked under one arm.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Ekko stood there for a moment, staring at the metal, listening to the old pipes groan to life behind it. The hiss of the water was faint, almost lost under the hum of the ventilation fan overhead, but it still sent something twisting under his ribs. A strange tension—familiar but out of place.

She was here. In his space.

Not with a bomb strapped to her chest or a gun pressed to someone else’s temple. Just Jinx. Or whatever was left of her. The way she'd walked in, small and silent and cloaked in smoke, felt more dangerous than any firefight they'd ever been in.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, then crossed to the shelf in the corner. A dusty plastic box sat half-buried beneath a draped tarp. He pulled it free, flipped the lid, and rifled through the collection inside—broken pieces, tangled wires, screws, scraps. His fingers a length of thin chain no longer attached to anything, but knotted into an impressive lump of snarled metal.

It would do.

The armchair protested weakly when Ekko dropped into it. He planted his elbows on his knees and started working. Not fixing, exactly. Just... doing. Letting his hands move while his mind circled things it didn’t know how to touch. The metal was cool and a little gritty from disuse as he fought to free it from itself. The action calmed him.

The shower still ran behind the door. He tried not to listen for it… but he did, anyway.

It had been years since he’d been near her without something ready to explode. No gunfire, no actual bombs, no trembling trigger fingers. And still, the air between them felt ready to detonate.

His hands moved faster.

By the time he set the chain aside, his breathing had evened out. There—done. He stared at the carefully detangled chain like it might tell him what to do next.

The shower had stopped running a while ago, but Ekko didn’t rush her. The silence in the room wasn’t uncomfortable alone, but it had a weight to it. Like the air hadn’t figured out how to flow easy again.

He glanced up when the bathroom door opened.

Jinx stepped out barefoot, her long hair still damp and unbraided, streaks of dark sapphire clinging to her collarbone. She wore the oversized white button-down shirt he’d given her—only the middle few buttons done up, hem brushing her upper thighs, sleeves swallowing her wrists. She hadn’t bothered with pants. Just her underwear, a flash of darkness that stood out against her pale skin whenever the shirt shifted. Faint scars on her legs caught the dim light, subtle but visible between the cracks in her blue tattoos.

She remained as mute as she was since she entered the room.

Just walked straight past and flopped backwards onto the bed with a soft thump, her hair spilling over the edge like a blue waterfall. She exhaled hard, sudden—like a balloon losing shape, air leaking from the seams as she sank deeper into the bed

Ekko watched her for a moment, quiet.

She looked like she was trying to disappear into the mattress

She lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. It didn’t.

The fabric clung to her damp skin in places, stuck and loose in others. She could feel the air moving across her legs where the hem had ridden up, could feel the slow trickle of water from her hair as it cooled against her neck. The silence buzzed louder than any voice in her head. Too much space. Too much stillness.

She turned her head and caught him—Ekko, pretending not to look.

His elbow was still on his knee, fingers fidgeting, but his eyes had strayed. Flicked up once, then sharply down. And again. She watched the way his jaw clenched slightly, the way he was working so hard to be polite about it. Like the skin of her thigh might burn him if he let himself look too long. Like he owed her restraint.

It was stupid. It made something in her want to laugh. Or scream.

Instead, she murmured, “If you’re gonna sneak glances, you could at least commit to one.”

Ekko froze for half a second—just enough to confirm it—before his head tilted toward her with a dry, wary look. “Didn’t realize I needed your permission to blink.”

Her mouth curved, but it didn’t quite make it to a smile. “Might help. Saves you the trouble of pretending you weren’t.” She rolled her head lazily on the pillow, eyes heavy-lidded. “You always this jumpy, or is it the shirt?”

She knew it wasn’t just the shirt. Knew it was her. Her body. Her scars. The exhaustion. The softness underneath all that damage. She knew what it looked like—what she looked like now, draped on his bed in his clothes, like she belonged in the space he’d carved out of nowhere.

She didn’t. Not really. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to.

He didn’t answer right away.

The silence stretched, thick between them, weighted by too many things they hadn’t said and one or two they had.

She let her arm flop out beside her, fingers brushing the edge of the mattress. “It’s loud,” she muttered. Not accusatory. Just a shade too tired. Honest. “In here.” She tapped the side of her temple with a knuckle. “Thought maybe if you kept looking, it’d drown it out.”

There was a pause, too long, the room going quiet like the words had knocked something so loose inside him that he couldn’t make his lungs work. Ekko sat back a little in the chair, like he wasn’t sure whether to move closer or bolt.

“Not really how that works,” he said finally. Quiet, but not unkind.

“I know.” Her voice cracked just a little. She closed her eyes. “Still.”

Still, it felt like it helped.

A little.

Jinx breathed out slowly again for the nth time, the sound soft and worn around the edges. Her chest rose and fell under the thin cotton of his shirt, still slightly damp in places, still clinging in the way wet fabric does—shaped by her, but not really hiding anything. The silence buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t just in her head.

She opened her eyes—half-lidded, heavy with something that wasn’t quite sleep and wasn’t quite safe.

Ekko’s gaze had drifted again, and this time he didn’t catch himself in time. She saw it. Watched his eyes dart up and away like maybe he could undo it.

“Do you want to look?” she asked, voice low, flat—but not cold. More like an offering. Something pulled from a frayed thread.

His eyes snapped back to hers, startled, wary. She held his gaze. Steady.

“You can,” she added. She didn’t say it like a dare.; however, it didn’t exactly feel like permission either. Just... openness. A door left purposefully half-cracked.

Ekko looked like he hardly dared breathe, but she could see the subtle shift in his jaw. The flicker of something caught between caution and wanting.

“Do you want me to?” he asked—quiet, cautious, like he didn’t want to spook whatever came next.

Her body answered before she did. One bent leg flopped to the side, languid and casual with a slow grace that felt more intentional than careless. The shirt shifted with it, pulling higher over her hips. She arched her back just a little, just enough to scoot lower on the bed, adjusting the angle, the view. The elastic waistband of her panties curved around her hips like a ribbon—snug in that way that made the soft stretch of fabric almost seem more intimate than if it were gone entirely.

Her eyes were darker now as they bore into him, gleaming pink in the dim room like lamplight, heat and ache braided together.

And then—without a word—her hand moved. Slid down her belly, fingers gliding slow and light over the shirt until they reached the edge of that thin strip of cloth between her legs.

She hovered at the edge, fingers drifting back and forth over the same narrow path, featherlight—like she was testing a threshold without crossing it.

Her eyes never left his.

Jinx’s fingers drifted lower, brushing over the edge of the fabric like she was still deciding something. Her touch was idle and exploratory, rather than performative or coy. A genuine moment caught between thought and impulse.

Then she slid them downward, skimming over the top of the material, tracing the heat that had been pooling there unspoken. When her fingers pressed lightly over the center through the fabric, her breath caught—a soft sound, barely audible.

But Ekko heard it.

His head jerked up, eyes locking with hers.

Her gaze held steady, dark and hot beneath the fall of unbound hair, like it was the only part of her that hadn’t gone quiet. She looked worn to the bone, but her eyes stayed sharp.

He swallowed. Hard. And looked down again.

Her fingers moved more deliberately now, gliding up and down along the dampening cloth. The wet darkened it visibly—just enough to make his pulse thrum faster.

She pressed a little harder, not rough, but sure. Her breath hitched again, this time paired with a faint roll of her hips. The shirt slipped higher, forgotten, exposing the full length of her thigh and the way her muscles tensed, relaxed, shifted under his gaze.

Ekko was breathing heavier, though he hadn’t budged. Couldn’t. His hands were gripping the edge of the chair now, knuckles pale.

Her fingers traveled upward, finding that firm, aching nub through the soaked fabric, and she began to draw slow, featherlight circles. Her lips parted on a soft moan—quiet, but sharp enough to cut through him.

Ekko’s eyes flicked back up to her face. Her cheeks were flushed now, lashes low, mouth parted just enough to show teeth. Her knees shifted wider without urgency, like gravity had pulled them open.

He realized he hadn’t taken a breath in far too long.

Didn’t dare do it now.

As if doing so might make him miss something.

She kept touching herself for a while longer, slow strokes through the darkened cloth, hips shifting in lazy, instinctive rhythm. The fabric had grown nearly translucent where the wetness soaked in, clinging now to every curve of her mound with every pass of her fingers. It was less about pressure than it was presence—like she needed to feel herself just to know she was still there.

Like this was the only thing cutting through the noise in her head.

Ekko’s jaw was tight as he finally forced a sharp hissing breath through his teeth. His chest rising faster now with it, like he’d forgotten how to breathe normally. His fingers gripped the arms of the chair like they might steady him, but there was nothing steady about the way he looked at her.

And she could feel it.

That heat.

That ache.

Not just between her legs, but beneath her skin.

Her hand slowed, then slid up—fingers tracing the soft skin of her inner thigh, then her hip, then settling lightly on her lower stomach. She let it rest there, splayed, her middle finger catching the waistband of her underwear like a hook. The shirt shifted with the movement, falling open where it had gone unbuttoned. The line of her stomach came into view—pale and toned, marred with faint scars trailing across skin of her cloud tattoos, spidering like lightening in a stormy sky.

Her breath hitched again as she arched—just a little. Hardly there. Enough.

And then, slowly and with intent, she began to push her hand beneath the waistband.

Ekko made an involuntary sound.

It wasn’t a word, not at first. Just a broken inhale that tried to shape her name and barely made it.

“Jinx—”

She cut him off before he could say more, her voice low and breathless but unmistakable.

“Watch me, Ekko.”

It wasn’t a tease. It wasn’t a plea.

It was a command wrapped in vulnerability. A boundary pushed open—not torn down, just… offered. Purposefully. Carefully. Like she was showing him the places she didn’t let anyone see, not just between her legs but in all the quiet ways her body carried pain and want and memory.

And she wanted him to look.

To see her.

To stay.

Her breath caught again, but this time it unraveled into a low moan—bare, guttural, pulled from somewhere deeper as her fingers finally slid against her pussy beneath the thin fabric. The sound of it—wet, soft, obscene in the quiet—was subtle, but Ekko heard it like a crack of thunder.

His breath stuttered in response. A shaky, involuntary exhale. His eyes were fixed, helplessly, on the way her hand moved under the waistband, the rhythm of her wrist, the way her hips shifted in response. There was reverence in his stillness—but hunger too. A ravenous hunger he was trying hard not to let spill over.

“Do you want to look?” she murmured again. Her voice was husky now, breath curling around the edges of the words. Not taunting. Just asking.

Ekko didn’t answer. Didn’t even try.

The only sound remained the faint drag of her fingers between her legs, and the quickened pace of his breathing.

She moved again, a slow tilt of her hips that made the movement more obvious, more exposed. Her fingers slid, circled, pushed deeper. The sound of it—the soft, wet pull—seemed so impossibly loud in the small room.

He swallowed.

Still nothing came out.

“Ekko.”

Her voice cut through the haze in his mind—not sharp or accusing. Just enough to make his eyes flick back up to hers.

She held him there with a look that was equal parts raw and steady.

“Do you want to look at all of me?” she asked again. This time slower. More pointed.

His lips parted. His throat worked.

“Yeah,” he croaked out. Barely audible. It rasped like it had been trapped inside him. So low it almost hurt.

Her mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but something like satisfaction flickering across her face.

“See?” she breathed. “That wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Then, slowly, she withdrew her hand. The material of her panties clung for a moment before letting go with a faint shift of sound. She let her hand fall across her hip, leaving a slick smear of moisture on her skin, catching in the dim light like a secret she hadn’t bothered to hide.

Ekko’s eyes snapped to it. Tracked the glisten against her skin. His chest rose sharply.

And then she hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her underwear.

She began to slide them down. Slow. Unhurried. Like she was peeling back something more than just cloth.

Jinx’s legs slid together with quiet intent as she bent them at the knees and lifted them into the air. The motion was languid, almost lazy, like she had all the time in the world. The shirt slipped higher on her hips, baring more skin as she slid her underwear down inch by inch.

Ekko couldn’t pull his eyes away if he wanted to.

The fabric clung, damp and dark, catching on the curve of her thighs before easing down her calves. A thin thread of slick clung between the cloth and her body as she peeled it away, stretching glistening and fragile until it broke and vanished.

She hesitated once they were off. Held the panties in her hands, bunched lightly between her fingers. Her eyes flicked to his, unreadable for half a beat.

Then she tossed them casually, like it was nothing.

They hit his chest and fell into his lap. Reflexively, his hand closed around the fabric.

They were warm. Wet. He could feel the slippery weight of her arousal in the soft cling of it against his skin.

Ekko swallowed hard.

It was difficult.

His mouth was so dry.

His chest was rising and falling now with sharp, uneven rhythm, breath catching high in his throat. His pants were tight—uncomfortably, impossibly so—but he still didn’t move. He was rooted there, eyes locked on the bed, on her, on the space between her legs she’d just bared without a word.

She bit her lip as she looked at him—hard enough to leave a mark—and then slowly let her legs fall open again, wide, unguarded.

Open.

For him.

His fingers tightened around the fabric in his lap, and still, he didn’t speak. The silence was thick with heat, but there was more than simple hunger in it. Weight. History. Want wrapped in something brittle and breaking and far too fragile to give voice to.

Jinx watched him like she could feel all of it too.

Her eyes stayed on him for a beat longer, then lowered again, lashes brushing her cheek as she slid her hand back down between her thighs. Her fingers found the moist heat easily—wet and open—and she let them slip through her folds with a quiet sigh. She was soaked, slick shining in the light as it dripped slowly down to form a gradual wet spot in the sheets below her with each muted twitch of her hips.

Ekko groaned, low in his throat, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second like the sound of her touch had physically hit him. He shifted in the chair, legs spreading wider as if it might relieve the ache of his cock, pressing hard against the inside of his pants. It didn’t help much.

When she opened her eyes again, her eyes caught on it—bulge straining against the front of his pants. Obvious. Painful-looking. Her gaze lingered, and her breath came faster, flushed skin glowing faintly beneath the low, yellow light.

“You can touch yourself too, you know,” she said, voice rough-edged and quiet. There was no challenge in it—just something unguarded, left on the floor between them

Ekko’s head dropped slightly, his jaw clenched, and his fingers flexed in his lap. He looked like he was weighing something in real time—something heavy. Then his voice came, low and hoarse.

“You sure?”

Her eyes met his again.

“I want to see you,” she said. The words came out raw. “If you want me to.”

She didn’t push it. Just let it sit there, between them.

A mirrored invitation.

And she was still touching herself, as she said it—fingers gliding through the wet heat of her pussy like she couldn’t bare to stop. Her thighs twitched slightly, breath coming in shorter pulls.

She kept her gaze on him.

Waiting.

Wanting.

Ekko was quiet for a breath, eyes locked with hers. Then—softly, almost like it surprised even him—he nodded.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah… I want to.”

He shifted in the chair, legs spreading a little more as he reached down with the hand not still clutching her soaked panties. His fingers moved with practiced caution, unhurried, working open the front of his pants. The zipper gave with a low sound, and then—

Her breath caught as he freed himself.

He exhaled too, a low, ragged sound of both relief and release. His body eased just slightly, the tension in his shoulders draining as he wrapped his hand around himself. The sight of her panties still in his other hand, damp and clenched in a fist against his thigh, made the moment feel even heavier. More intimate.

Jinx made a soft sound—an inhale, caught on want—and he looked up, met her gaze.

Her eyes were locked on him, molten and dark. No trace of mockery, no edge of performance. Just heat. Hunger. And something quieter underneath it all.

Ekko started to move his hand, steadily. The muscles in his arm flexed with the motion, breath catching as his hips gave a faint, unconscious roll. His lashes fluttered, and a low, husky sound escaped his throat.

The noise sent a jolt through Jinx’s hips.

She gasped softly, her body responding before thought could catch up. Her back arched again, just a little, and her free hand slid up beneath the open front of the shirt. She cupped her chest, fingers catching on her nipple, breath trembling as she rolled it lightly between her fingertips. Her thighs widened on instinct—no theatrics—just the raw pull of want.

She was so open. So exposed and without shame.

Just this moment. Just them.

And his eyes burned into her with an intensity that could have set her alight.

Ekko’s grip on himself was steady at first—measured and restrained in the sort of way that came from holding back too long. But then, almost without realizing, the hand still holding the garment she’d tossed him began to move. He lifted it slowly, like the motion belonged to someone else. And before he could stop himself, he brought it to his face and breathed in.

The scent hit him like a punch to the gut—intimate, raw and musky—unmistakably her, soaked into cotton.

A guttural sound scraped up from the base of his spine.

Across the room, Jinx moaned—a sharp, breathy curse that shivered into a whimper as her fingers moved faster. She pressed harder against herself, rubbing tight circles now, her body flushing deeper. Her eyes were locked on him, wide and dark. She stared at him like someone starving.

“You—” she gasped, breath catching on a low exhale. “You really—fuck, Ekko—”

She sounded wrecked.

He glanced up at her, chest rising fast, and the look in his eyes said he wasn’t sure whether to be apologetic or turned on out of his mind; however, his momentary confusion didn’t last long as Jinx groaned, borderline desperate:

“Use them.”

His pace faltered. Just for a second. His hand stuttered on his cock, and he blinked—like the words took a moment to register.

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse, already ruined.

Jinx didn’t pause in the rhythm of her fingers. If anything, she pushed harder, arching into her own hand. Her voice was low, ragged.

“You heard me.”

Ekko looked down at the panties in his hand—damp, warm, clinging to his fingers—and then back at her, open-legged on the bed, touching herself and watching him like he was the only real thing in the world.

And then—

“Oh fuck,” he breathed.

Just raw, aching need that make him feel light-headed for lack of blood flow anywhere but south.

He pressed the soaked fabric into his palm, curling it around his himself.  His hips jolted at the first wet slide of it against his cock like his whole body had been waiting for that exact thing.

And across from him, Jinx moaned again—deeper now, her whole body trembling, eyes burning as she watched him.

The soaked fabric slid against him, hot and slick, and Ekko’s hips jerked with the sudden intensity of it. The texture, the warmth, the reality of what he was holding—it shattered the last of his restraint. His head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut as a deep, rocky sound rumbled out of his chest—more growl than moan.

Across the room, Jinx keened in response.

Her upper back pressed into the mattress for leverage as her thighs trembled with the effort to keep them open. She was still watching him—drinking him in like she needed the sight of him to keep breathing. Her hand moved lower, fingers gliding through the wet heat until they found her entrance.

Then she used two shaking fingers to part her pussy for him.

Just enough.

Just so he could see as she slid one inside.

Ekko opened his eyes just in time to watch her do it.

Her mouth parted on a sharp breath, her eyes fluttering, the tension in her abdomen drawing tight as her palm press down just right against her clit while her finger moved slowly, deeply inside her. Her breath stuttered with each shift of her hips, the pressure mounting too fast to track. She revelled in the way he looked at her—wrecked, reverent, like she was the most dangerous and beautiful thing in the world.

Her legs trembled harder, quivering with the strain of holding them wide, of staying open for him when every nerve was sparking.

“Oh my god, Ekko,” she breathed, voice cracked and shaking as she slipped a second finger into her hole, “This—it’s not just me, right?”

There was awe in her voice, almost disbelief. Like it wasn’t just want anymore. Like it was something bigger—something neither of them had words for.

But they didn’t need them right now.

They had this.

The heat between them hummed, thick and alive.

And they kept moving—mirrored in rhythm, eyes caught, breathless in the fire they’d built together.

Jinx was coming apart.

Her breath was erratic now, caught somewhere between panting and moaning, and her hand between her legs moved faster—rougher—chasing that sharp edge building in her spine. She tried to keep touching her chest, fingers grazing over her nipple again, but coordination was starting to fail her. Her hand fell away, gripping the sheets instead.

Her back arched more fully now, hips lifting slightly off the bed in tight little pulses. One leg kicked out—a sudden jolt, like her muscles were locking up—but her hand didn’t stop.

“Tell me,” she gasped, head tipping back, brow furrowed tight. “Tell me you want me.”

Her voice cracked on it. Not from uncertainty—but from raw need. From that desperate, unraveling place between power and pleading.

Ekko’s hand was moving faster too, wrapped tight around himself, aided by the slick arousal from the panties still clutched in his palm and mixing with the wetness from his weeping cock. His chest heaved, sweat beading along his collarbone where his shirt hung loose.

“I want you,” he said—hoarse, ragged, barely able to get the words out. His eyes locked to hers like he needed her to believe it. “I’ve always—fuck—Jinx, I want you so bad.”

She whined—loud this time, more unrestrained—and pressed her fingers harder against herself, working in deeper now and curving upwards, her palm grinding against her clit as her hips chased every friction point.

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m—shit, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah,” Ekko breathed, bracing one foot against the floor as he pumped himself harder. “Come on, Jinx—don’t stop. Let it happen. I’m right here.”

Her lip caught between her teeth harshly as her whole body shook—tension rippling through her like a snapped wire, every part of her straining toward the inevitable.

Her brows knit tighter, face flushed and trembling, breath catching in uneven gasps.

She was teetering on the edge.

And Ekko couldn’t look anywhere else.

Jinx whimpered—a high, broken sound that cracked like glass around the edges. She was trembling now, legs shaking with the effort to stay open, back bowed, mouth slack as her hand worked herself faster. Her eyes were wide but glassy, pupils blown, lips swollen from how hard she’d been biting them.

“I want—” Her voice faltered, breath hitched, but she forced it out again, more urgent this time. “I want you to—fuck—Ekko, I want you to come on me.”

Ekko groaned like it had been torn from somewhere deep inside him. His hand clenched around himself, slick and tight, and he nearly doubled over from the way her words hit him.

“Holy shit—you want that?” he panted, voice strangled around the weight of restraint still holding him barely back.

“Yes,” she gasped, her whole body shaking. “Yes—do it, come on me, please—just—please—”

That was all it took.

He stood up so fast the chair rocked behind him, pants still undone and shirt half-unbuttoned. He stepped close—closer than he’d dared to all night—and came to the edge of the bed, sliding between her trembling, open legs.

Jinx’s eyes flicked up to meet his, wild and burning, just as his free hand thudded into the mattress beside her head, steadying him as he leaned over her.

They were so close now—barely a breath apart—but neither of them stopped.

His fist moved in a desperate rhythm, each pass matched by the snap of her hips as her fingers worked frantically between her legs, slick and wet and reckless. She was unraveling beneath him, skin flushed and limbs taut, and her other hand clawed at the sheets, bracing herself against the storm rising in her spine.

“Ekko—” she gasped, voice tight, almost frantic.

He groaned again at the sound of his name, forehead dipping down like it might crash into hers.

“I’m close,” he rasped. “Jinx—fuck—keep going.”

“I am,” she sobbed, breath catching hard. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

Her hips bucked again, thighs quivering, body arching up into the heat of him like she could pull him in with nothing but need. The air between them was thick, heavy, pulsing with shared rhythm and want.

And they were both right there.

Seconds away from falling.

Jinx was spiralling.

Her breath had gone so ragged, every sound tumbling out of her sounded like she couldn’t catch hold of herself anymore. She was right there—balanced on that tight edge—and everything inside her was pulling taut, shaking, burning.

“God, you’re so—” she tried, her voice breaking with urgency. “Ekko, I—”

But the words dissolved.

She tensed suddenly, eyes wide and unseeing as her body seized around the moment. Her legs snapped shut around his thighs, trapping him between them, heels digging in. Her back bowed off the bed in a sharp, sudden arch, and her head fell back hard against the mattress, hair fanned wild around her flushed face.

She cried out—loud, raw, drawn from the very center of her.

Ekko tried to say her name. Tried to breathe.

But his chest stuttered with the force of it—watching her come apart beneath him like that, so unguarded, so real. He’d never seen anything like her—had never felt anything like this.

“Oh—oh my fu—” His voice broke, jaw slack, eyes locked on the way her stomach fluttered with each breath, the way her skin flushed under the shirt hanging open around her. “Jinx—”

It hit him all at once.

With a strangled groan, he reached his breaking point, hips jerking forward instinctively as he let go. His hand worked him through it, quick and desperate, until he spilled over—hot come streaking across the soft skin of her stomach, her ribs, the swell of her chest where the shirt had fallen open.

His breath shuddered, chest heaving as he leaned over her, hand still braced in the sheets by her head. Below him, Jinx was still trembling, mouth parted in the aftershock, eyes closed as her body slowly began to ease out of the high she'd ridden.

The space between them pulsed.

Frozen in the moment.

They just breathed.

Together.

Ekko’s breath was still slowing, his chest rising less like a wave and more like the tide beginning to ebb. The room had gone quieter than he expected. Even the city beyond the walls felt far away—like the moment had built its own pocket of silence around them.

His hand, still braced beside her head, trembled faintly as he pulled it back. He sat upright, but didn’t move far—just enough to let his eyes drift downward at the mess he’d made—his release—streaked across the soft skin of her stomach and the loose folds of the shirt he’d given her. A long line caught the bottom curve of her ribs. Another had soaked into the fabric just above where the buttons ended, making the white cotton cling faintly to her.

He stared at it for a breath too long as the gravity of it settled upon them.

It was intimate in a way nothing else had been.

When he finally looked back up, her eyes were already on him.

She hadn’t moved—not really—but her chest still lifted in small, uneven breaths. Her mouth was parted just slightly. Her legs, bent and drawn up, still gripped the sides of his thighs. She hadn’t let go.

There was no tension or fear in it.

But it held him there.

Like maybe she wasn’t ready for him to step away just yet.

Ekko swallowed. His voice came rough, edged with hesitation.

“Are you—?”

He didn’t finish.

Because she shifted, lifting herself onto her elbows with a slow push that made her collarbone catch the light—then reached up, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, and tugged.

He came without resistance.

And she kissed him.

It wasn’t a crash. Wasn’t sharp or wild or anything like the way they’d torn each other apart on rooftops or in memories. It was soft. Deliberate. A meeting halfway.

Her lips were warm. A little dry from the air. They brushed his like she was still deciding whether to stay in the moment or pull away. He didn’t move at first—didn’t even breathe. Just let it happen.

Then—slowly—he kissed her back.

His hand came up to cradle the side of her jaw, thumb brushing a line just under her cheekbone. She didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned into it.

It didn’t last long.

When she pulled back, she stayed close—foreheads not quite touching, but near enough to feel each other’s breath.

Jinx drew back just a little, eyes still on his.

“Well… that wasn’t part of the plan.”

Ekko gave a breath of a laugh—barely more than air. “Didn’t really have one.”

She huffed through her nose, almost a sound, almost a smile.

Ekko’s gaze dropped briefly to the space between them, then returned to hers.

“You gonna bolt on me?” he asked, voice quiet. “After all this?”

Her answer came slow, eyes narrowing minutely.

“Are you?”

Her voice wasn’t bitter. It didn’t challenge him. It just peeled back, exposing something quiet and frayed underneath.

Ekko shook his head, jaw tightening.

“No,” he said. “Not again.”

He meant it. She could feel it in the way his voice didn’t waver.

“I thought you wanted me gone. Back then. But...” His brow furrowed, voice low. “I get it now—you were pushing. I just... let it happen.”

Jinx’s throat bobbed with a thin swallow.

He leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing hers where it braced it back against the sheets.

“I’ll stay,” he said. “As long as you want me.”

Instead, after a few seconds of stillness, she turned her head—just slightly—like she couldn’t quite hold his gaze anymore. Her hair shifted across her cheek, damp and loose.

She looked away.

But not for long.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced back at him. Like she couldn’t stop looking either, and the real answer lived in the way her lashes lowered and lifted again, in the way her fingers barely flexed beneath his.

But when she spoke, her voice was rough around the edges again.

“That’s awful deep,” she muttered, “for someone with their dick still out.”

Ekko blinked once.

Then huffed a sharp, surprised laugh.

It cracked something in the air between them.

Jinx was watching him again now. Her expression hadn’t quite shifted, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth like she was fighting the impulse to follow him into it. The closest thing to a smile she’d had in days.

Ekko leaned in and kissed her again.

Not tentative this time. Just firm—decisive. His hand found her cheek again, and she let him guide her into it, let her body lean up against the kiss like it settled something in her bones.

When he pulled away, his voice was low, lips close enough to her mouth that she could feel each word.

“I’ll get you another shirt,” he said, “and then we’re going to sleep.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, breath shallow but evening out now. “That an order?”

He arched a brow back at her. “It’s a suggestion.”

She snorted lightly and let go of his shirt as he pushed up from the bed, tucking himself back into his boxers with a quiet breath and crossing to the shelf. She stayed where she was, propped up slightly on one arm, eyes following him across the room.

By the time he turned back with a clean towel in one hand and a folded shirt in the other, she’d already shrugged out of the ruined one.

The fabric was bunched in her hands now, streaked and used, and she was matter-of-factly wiping herself off with it—stripped bare without any attempt to cover up. Fully on display. Her body was lean and marked, dotted with scars she never had before the bridge. She wasn’t trying to be casual. She just was.

Ekko froze for a second. Just... struck dumb by her.

She was beautiful.

In the simplest, rawest way. Not because of what had just happened. But because she looked real—unarmoured, unscripted, and for once, not trying to be anything other than alive.

She didn’t look so much like the ghost he’s come to know lately.

Jinx caught him looking.

She met his gaze—blank at first, then faintly amused.

“That towel for me, or just emotional support?”

Ekko smirked, walking it over.

“Both,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, but accepted the offering of the towel before waving off the fresh shirt. She tossed the used shirt to the floor next to her ruined panties and dropped back into the bed, curling onto her side, unabashed in her nudity.

“You want another shower?” he asked, voice quieter now, already guessing the answer.

“Later,” she mumbled, already sinking into the mattress.

Ekko watched her for a beat longer—her breathing slower now, more even.

Then he moved to shut off the light.

Ekko kicked off his boots first, one thudding softly against the wall. The other rolled beneath the bed with a dull scrape, but he didn’t go after it. He unbuckled his pants next, shucking them off with the kind of tired coordination that came from muscle memory more than focus. That left him in his boxers and shirt.

He paused, fingers toying with the hem.

Jinx hadn’t made any move to cover herself. She was already curled on her side with her bare back to him, sheets tangled beneath her, long hair drying in a loose spill over the pillow. She hadn’t bothered asking what was appropriate.

So, he breathed in once, pulled his shirt over his head, and let it drop.

This was how he slept anyway.

He crossed to the bed and climbed in carefully, mindful of where her hair fanned out across the sheets. He settled on his side behind her, leaving a handspan of space between them—just enough that he wouldn’t crowd her.

He wasn’t sure if he should close the gap.

Before he could decide, Jinx shifted.

Without looking, she shuffled back against him, spine brushing his chest, her shoulder slotting under his arm like she’d done this a hundred times before. Her hips settling into the curve of him was the only answer he needed.

Ekko exhaled quietly and wrapped his arm around her waist, easing her closer. His other hand slid under the pillow, fingers brushing hers beneath it. She didn’t stop him.

He pressed his face into her hair.

It was still a bit damp, cool where it clung to his cheek, and smelled like old Zaun smog and cheap soap and something sweet underneath—something that might’ve always been her. His eyes closed.

“You really like smelling me,” she murmured, voice slurred and half-asleep.

Ekko’s eyes cracked open, startled. His face went warm, but he didn’t deny it.

“Do you mind?” he asked, voice low against her skin.

Jinx hummed. “I’m the one who threw my panties at you, remember?”

That made him laugh—quiet and sharp at once.

“Right.”

She didn’t say anything more after that.

Her breathing easing into something softer as sleep took hold of her. Ekko let his forehead rest against the back of her head, arm still curled around her, hand settled flat over the place just beneath her ribs where his shirt had once clung.

And for once, the silence didn’t carry weight.

It just held them.

Until sleep did.