Archive of Our Own

1.

Is love an art? If so, would it require knowledge and effort? Or is it simply a pleasant sensation, which to experience is a matter of chance?

Something one falls into, if one is lucky.

With the existence of Jinx, Ekko would consider himself part of the vast majority that believed in the latter, although he wouldn’t agree with the sentiment that he was lucky to love Jinx, nor that it was pleasant.

No, if Ekko had a choice on the matter, he wouldn’t.

It was just that Powder had been the one who had snuck her way into his heart and when this curse - not her, the one that made her think she was the cause of misery to all those unfortunate enough to find themselves close to her - planted like a seed into her head, sprouted and grew into this massive tree they called Jinx, he couldn’t bring himself to fell it. It was still her.

Call him sentimental. Unable to let things go. But he continued loving Jinx all the same.

Whether she had been aware of her significance in his life or not, she currently was pushing that weakness of his.

“Woah, you live so high up!”

Her grin was stretched wide, eyelids unnaturally relaxed, choppy bangs tellingly disheveled and he couldn’t help but scrunch his nose when the smell of alcohol hit him.

“What are you doing here?” He hissed back , hoping she’d follow his example with how incautiously she announced her presence. “How do you even know-”

“Silco would kill me if I returned home like this,” she cut in with a lilt to her voice, thankfully at a more appropriate volume. His jaw unclenched when he reassured himself that nobody had spotted her. She climbed past him with the entitlement of a resident rather than that of an unexpected visitor, clumsily shoving him aside with her shoulder, unbothered by the wrench held to her face in an unbacked threat.

He continued staring at the branch she had sat in a second ago, arm still stretched out, wondering if he had just imagined her presence, until the thud behind him confirmed that she was very much real.

“And this is safe?” He muttered in disbelief - as much at her as at himself for not even making an effort to stop her - letting his arm drop.

That she knew where he’d been hiding all along for gods know how long didn’t sit well with him either. He could only imagine who else had access to this information.

Variations of kicking her out, calling the other firelights to capture her, maybe even getting a good trade with Silco out of it, passed through his mind. But his feet were as if rooted to the hardwood floor and something ugly and traitorous was preventing him from making her presence known to his mates.

If Jinx was aware of his inner turmoil, she didn’t let it show-

“You def… definitely wouldn’t scold me for coming home drunk,” she drawled out with a light laugh.

-or maybe she wasn’t aware of much, really.

Before he could stop her, she reeled over to his desk, one swinging foot in front of the other, and slumped into his chair, giving it a wobbly test spin.

In the meantime Ekko was still caught up somewhere between fixing up his hoverboard and opening his window to the sight of her sticking her nose into his room.

“I mind you coming here for other reasons,” he finally gave a weak protest.

She turned, her gaze fixed to him, eyes half-lidded in a relaxed, almost bored manner.

“‘Cause I run with the man who killed Benzo?”

His breath hitched at the ease with which she had said it. Like it was some unconventional hobby he didn’t agree with, or how, to everyone’s disapproval, she didn’t like Jericho‘s shrimp menu.

Sometimes he found himself doubting she was just provoking him and had truly become this person. Maybe he was delusional when she had yet to prove him right.

It was hard to hold her gaze without wanting to… his fists tightened. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, but in the end, all he could really do was break eye contact when he couldn’t find even an inkling of remorse in hers.

He scoffed, slamming the window closed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He didn’t sound convincing, not even to himself.

She folded her arms on the table with a lack of dexterosity he'd never associate with her, the clacking of a handful of screws falling off and into the wooden floor - he’d have to painstakingly search every cranny for them later - didn’t deter her at all. Her head slumped forward, resting her temple on her arms so that she could continue watching him.

“You jus’ cut off my way out.”

He pointedly ignored her observation.

“Where did you even manage to get this shitfaced?”

She gave him a serious look before cracking a toothy giggle. He hated the rush of nostalgia that came with it. “The Burner,” she drawled out with a shrug. “And I came here thinking I wouldn’t be getting a lecture.”

Ekko clicked his tongue.

The fucking Bunsenburner. Probably the only place that served minors and adults all the same. You could probably get away with sneaking a beer or two at the Bottleneck or Trixie’s, but they actually cared whether you’d end up puking out your guts by the end of it.

He wouldn’t actually know, but he had enough experience declining his mates’ offers to tag along. Although, they didn't mention ever running into Jinx there.

He eyed her carefully, trying to decipher how plastered she was for her first rodeo.

While he wasn’t exactly bursting with joy at the thought that this was what it took for her to be willing to see him, it was the longest conversation he’d ever held with Jinx.

It could mark the beginning of a reconciliation, he thought sarcastically. Give it a year or so, when they’d actually be allowed to drink, and they might still have a chance at becoming best friends, right? All they needed to do was become alcoholics.

“If I let you stay, will you keep this place a secret from Silco?”

“Dunno, will you rat me out to your friends after I pass out?” Jinx retorted.

She did have a point. Aside from the fact that asking her that was as reliable as asking someone if they were a murderer before following them to a dark alley. They were relying on trust and there were many reasons not to trust her.

“Whatever,” Ekko relented with a sigh, “knock yourself out. Just… make sure no one sees you on your way out.”

As if he hadn’t already made the decision the moment she had knocked on his window.

What else was he supposed to do with her in this state, kick her out? At least, he wasn’t sure how she would make it back down without causing a ruckus.

It would be impractical, that’s what this was.

“First patrol is at six and then at nine,” he added and for a moment he wondered if that was what she came for. All this was an elaborate act to squeeze information out of him.

The fond smile on her face told him otherwise, such a stark contrast to the last time they’d been alone together too many years ago, he froze in the middle of the room to take in this bizarre scene.

“Thanks, lil’ man,” she muttered, eyes already falling closed. The position she was in looked like a sure sore neck in the morning, but if there was anything he learned from his friends’ drinking escapades, it was that you could fall asleep literally anywhere when drunk enough.

And it also saved him fighting her and himself, had she had claimed the only comfortable place in his room.

It didn’t look like she was going to be sick and Ekko was honestly surprised she didn’t overshoot it, only left comfortably drowsy.

“Don’t take this for something it isn’t,” he mumbled in his defense. But the moment his mouth closed he regretted his words.

He stopped at the foot of his bed, appreciating the overview the position gave him of the room, specifically the table she was beginning to fall asleep at.

“What is it then?”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. She was way too sharp for someone who got drunk for the first time in their life. Slipping back into their old ways around each other was too easy when she didn’t insist on holding him at arms length.

Ekko struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t leave him too vulnerable, his mouth opened and closed again - although, it quickly proved to be unnecessary when her soft snores filled the room just a few moments later.

He exhaled a sharp breath through his nose.

Unbelievable.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes in which this entire situation had unfolded and Ekko took the opportunity to give himself a much needed breather and simply let the picture sink in.

Jinx was slumped over his workstation, passed out drunk.

Her braid draped over her shoulder, falling into her lap. If she continued letting it grow it would eventually sweep the dust bunnies under his table.

As if this was going to happen again.

Her cheeks were blooming red, a fold forming under her eye with one cheek squished from resting on it, pushing her lips into a soft pout. It would probably leave a crease across her face in the morning.

Right. In the morning she’d be gone, possibly before he woke up.

He made sure to place a small knife under his pillow - ready to grab, should he need to defend himself - before laying down. But sleep didn’t come.

After tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity, occasionally stilling to check for Jinx’s even snores, he got up to check the room for anything she could use as a weapon, scolding himself for not doing so earlier.

His search delivered him a flash bomb, a few spare coins and a doodle of ‘Silly’ on a ripped piece of paper - it was strange to see the eye of Zaun depicted so… domestically.

What surprised him was that she didn’t even carry a knife around the lanes. Like she was above getting attacked, whether in broad daylight or the dead of the night.

Must be nice to live under the protection of the most powerful man in the undercity.

He smiled to himself at the sight of her nails, wondering if that was her weapon of choice.

Satisfied with his findings, he fell back into bed and while he didn’t drowse off immediately, he considered himself lucky he fell asleep at all, given the circumstances.

When he woke up, she was already gone. Only the silly doodle and flash he confiscated remained as a token of her visit.

2.

Surprisingly, Silco’s goons didn’t run down their doors the very next day.

Months passed and before he knew it, they turned into a year. By the time her eighteenth birthday rolled around, Ekko had given up on the idea that she might visit him again.

At least not for the reason she had crashed his place last time around and, delusional as he may be, for the lack of any other occasions, he didn’t really have much to hold on to.

That didn’t mean he didn’t see her, though. As expected, Silco had increasingly started utilizing Jinx as time went by and Ekko had trouble keeping up with her, with how little she let him take part in her life. He looked into haunted blue eyes from afar and wondered if she even noticed she was only grinning when she thought someone was around to see.

He tried avoiding the factories when she was on guard to not further taint whatever they had left, but he missed her in ways he couldn’t explain. She was alive, wasn’t she? She was right there.

Sometimes he would catch her boarding an airship along with a small crew and she’d be off his radar for weeks.

In the meantime he found himself tagging along with his mates to the Bottleneck once or twice, to see what the rage was about, only to return home with heavy drunken steps and a heavier heart.

It had been one of those months. She had been gone, gods know where, and Ekko tried not to think too hard about it. Was she safe? When would she return?

It seemed each time she came back with a piece of the mission she would carry around. Sometimes it was physical - an earring, a hair clip, a scar - sometimes it would be the way she scrunched her shoulders tighter or a dangerous, weary glint in her eyes that seemed to be looking at something far, far away.

This time it was new pants.

Striped and ripped at the shins, she displayed them by kicking her legs up on his table.

“Long time no see, bug boy,” she grinned, the familiar lilt in her voice present as last time she had graced him with her presence.

He didn’t like it.

Didn’t like it one bit what kind of familiarity she greeted him with. Although there was no more blood of his people on her hands than last time she came, there definitely were broken bones and skindeep glassshards.

“Why are you here?” He snapped, “You’re old enough to get drunk.”

“You know how it is…” she shrugged, her smile not faltering at his tone, “you’ll always be a child in your parents’ eyes.”

He glared back at her, “I don’t know.”

Something about her presence got him cranky. Was it because she was here? Or because she hadn’t been for so long?

Despite her drunkenness the message didn’t fly past her head.

Her gaze softened and for a blink of an eye she looked sad - he wished she would acknowledge that out of the two of them he was the one who had been left all alone.

It was just a wink before her expression turned indifferent again.

Her eyes darted between him and the window; she must have noticed he hadn’t closed it like last time, standing by it instead, holding it agape.

“Come on, lil’ man, for old time’s sake,” she whined in protest.

He cracked the window open a tad bit wider.

“That was once. Years ago.” He reminded her. “And it was an exception.”

“Bummer, I was really hoping I could crash this place tonight. Ditched the crew for the bar, they were lame anyways.”

The pants didn’t seem to be the only souvenir. She brought a particular edge with her and he couldn’t tell if it was just the alcohol.

She was talking too fast, her smile was too wide, movements too hectic, not to mention that she didn’t seem to make a habit out of getting drunk. He had a distant memory what it should look like and the pictures didn't match.

A heavy uneasiness settled in his chest at the thought of setting her out again. He closed the window.

“Where have you been?”

He meant it in many ways, but it was late and there was only one way for her drunken brain to interpret the question.

“Bilgewater,” she shrugged, not seeming very excited about it but definitely not giving it the gravity it deserved.

“That’s-”

dangerous. No place for you to be. Negligent of Silco to even send you.

What the undercity lacked in prosperity they made up with loyalty. Bilgewater was a dog eat dog world.

But with a sharp sting to his heart he had to admit to himself that she had changed and continued changing way too quickly, so he was beginning to lose track of what did and didn’t suit her.

“How… did you like it?” he finally asked, instead of the lecture he shoved down with an effort that was reserved solely for her. There was no point in having a heart to heart with her like this, anyway.

“Like I said, crew’s lame. Trading bores me to tears. I trained with a marksman uhh… markswoman though!” She giggled to herself, interrupted by a hiccup. “That was fun.”

She blinked as if she was snapping out of a memory.

“Oh, and I got some ink done.”

The added information made his brows shoot up, suddenly not just casually leaning against the wall. Tattoos weren't unusual in the undercity per-se, even if he didn't have any of his own. But when he used to take a look around their friend group, Powder was the last one he'd imagine sitting through hours of tiny needles pricking her skin.

“Really, where?”

“Classified,” she grinned with a wink leaning back against the table until she could rest on her elbows, “can’t have Silly know, yet, I still have one sitting to go.”

Silly. There it was again. Just a father who’d freak out at his daughter getting a tattoo. Not the brutal, merciless druglord and ruler of the undercity he - and everyone else, for that matter - had gotten to know.

Her secrecy made his eyes rake her body for any clues. She was wearing a sleeveless leather vest over a shirt, bound down the front of her chest with a thin string, her legs were mostly covered by those weird pants that looked like she stole them from a circus, but somehow they looked right on her, snug low to her hips. It could be anywhere, from her shoulders, to her back… her chest or thighs. The many thoughts that followed that revelation made him swallow hard.

All this pondering almost made him miss a little detail she mentioned.

“How would I tell on you?”

It wasn’t like Silly and him were old pals, and he’d hit him up at the good ol’ Last Drop on Wednesdays. He’d probably get shot in the face before he could set foot in that place.

“I dunno. My old man has connections aaall the way to the blue an’ gold peanuts. Wouldn’t be surprised if he had somethin’ runnin’ with you guys, too.” She hiccuped again, head lolling to the side before she caught herself.

Interesting.

She must have noticed her mistake by the look on his face.

“Ah, shit. You can keep a secret, can’t ya?”

Something about it was so endearing, he couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. The first one in her presence since Powder fell down a well.

“Now you’re just contradicting yourself. I think it's time to hit the hay.” He pushed himself off the wall.

“I think… I’m gonna throw up.”

Her head slumped forward a second later.

“Wait- hey, don’t just fall asleep after saying that-“

He rushed toward her, pulling her into an upright position - wrong move. The retching started the moment she was sitting again, but miraculously she managed to twist away from him before she emptied her stomach to his workbench and straight onto his sketches.

“Fuck.”

It was too late to save her grown out bangs, but he managed to pull her braid behind her shoulder and out of the line of fire.

Ekko hoped that had been the last of it when she let out a few ragged coughs. He wanted to reassure himself that she was okay, but she was refusing to meet his eyes, face turned away, fists tightly clenched.

“Bet you didn’t expect your night to turn out that exciting," she joked bitterly. Without seeing her face he couldn’t tell if her voice was strained because she was near tears or if it simply had something to do with her puking her guts out a moment ago.

Either way, she was on the verge of something and he had a feeling his next words needed to be picked carefully.

“It’s… okay. Don’t worry about it,” his hand on her shoulder was supposed to be comforting, but she flinched at the touch, “we’ll just get you cleaned up and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Nevertheless he continued stroking her skin and he almost fooled himself into thinking it actually did its job at soothing her. At first it was just her shoulders shaking, then she was rubbing her eyes and when he heard her sniffling he realized she was crying.

Thick, heavy tears rolled down her flushed cheeks, wobbling lip relenting and stretching into a pained grimace, before she pulled her knees to her chest and hid her face in them.

Before he knew it she was sobbing.

“I miss you, I miss being your friend. I don’t want you to hate me." His heart constricted painfully. "I don’t want to be a weapon. I don’t want to go to Bilgewater again...”

She sounded so much like Powder. Like a protesting child refusing to comply with the tyranny of adults.

“Why don’t you stop then?” He breathed, overwhelmed with the drunken secrets spilling out of her mouth.

“I don’t know! I don’t know…” she cried, “I just want him to be proud of me.”

She suddenly whipped her head around but there was nothing in particular to look at.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” She cried at the empty space.

"It's just me, Jinx."

Her breath was heavy, frantically looking around eventually landing on him again, brow twitching as she mustered him.

She was still weary but the rise and fall of her chest began to slow until her eyes looked focused again.

"I don't want to go," she breathed defeatedly.

And he'd let her stay. Janna, he wanted her to stay.

But the next morning she was gone again.

In the end, he learned her drunken words held little meaning. She did go to Bilgewater again. She allowed Silco to weaponise her and continued being Ekko’s enemy.

Her single braid had been swapped out for two, now reaching her calves and the tops she wore showed off the blue inked clouds on her midriff, rippling every time she triggerhappily fetched her gun.

When they were kids Ekko had been convinced nothing and no-one could drive them apart. He had been armed to the tooth. Meticulously bulletproved their bubble. He had no qualms about the monsters that were hiding in the alleys and cracks of the undercity, ready to face them head on.

What he hadn’t been prepared for was that it would be her aiming the gun, couldn’t have imagined that he’d be dragging his feet through the rubble of the fortress he had once built because she would end up bombing until it was all but flattened.

Yet in all the things she had listed, she continued being wrong about one. He still didn’t hate her.

3.

Ekko felt her before he heard her.

Actually, he jolted awake when the mattress dipped under unfamiliar weight.

Without realizing what was happening, just that something was amiss, he instinctively tried reaching for the knife under his pillow - he’d never moved it since the first night - but was stopped by something heavy pinning him.

“Wha-“

He tore his eyes open, trying to wiggle free, breath coming in quicker as he tried grasping onto the situation in the dark.

The blue braids gave her away first.

She was laying halfway on him, one arm and leg slung over him, effectively trapping his dominant hand.

His breath hitched when he turned his head only to face her head on, her nose barely a few centimetres way from his.

“Hi,” she breathed. She smelled like brandy and she looked like hell.

“Are you going to come here every time you get drunk?” He asked groggily, heart slowly starting to calm its rushed pace.

Suddenly, she looked unsure of herself. “I- well. Do you- Whatever.”

He scrunched his eyebrows. She wasn’t making any sense, but he didn’t feel like figuring her out this time.

She looked like she was contemplating something until her demeanour changed abruptly, and she slung one leg across his hips, pushing herself up until she was straddling him, both hands planted on either side of his face.

He didn’t have time to register the new position, her hips molding perfectly against his, before she lowered herself. His hands flew to her hips, tightening in warning.

Dangerous. Very dangerous.

“What are you doing?” He strained.

“What’s it look like?”

She resumed lowering her face until their noses touched and there was nowhere to look than her. Her. Her. Her.

He’d never been as close as to admire the grey specks in her crystal blue eyes or count the freckles on her nose. At least not as adults. Not in his treehouse bedroom. Not with her straddling him.

This time he grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her away with more insistence, surprised at the amount of strength he needed to apply to even get her budging.

“You’re drunk,” he panted out, trying to keep his composure.

“So?” She drew a brow at him, cocking her head to the side. “You think a drop of liquor will make me a liar?”

Yes.

Well, not exactly a liar. She surely believed she wanted to kiss him this very moment, that much was clear. But Ekko was no fool, come morning things would look very different.

She was simply looking for some short term, inconsequential fun. A pleasant sensation shared with a faceless projection.

There was no reason to assume Jinx actually liked spending time with him. Sure, she had told him she missed him, but Jinx said a lot of things when she was drunk, yet she never stuck around until morning or sought him out when she wasn’t reeling.

“I think that makes it not the right time,” he finally breathed.

She rolled her eyes at that, before lowering them to his lips again, the action pinning him in place. Her fringe fell forward, tickling his brow and he was as though hypnotised.

He held his breath, afraid he’d get drunk off of her, catch whatever charm she was under that made her look so sultrily his way. Made her arch her back to the point where her hips and stomach were flush with his.

“You’re always such a good boy. Let loose once in a while…” she grabbed one of his hands and placed it on her waist, dragging it down, over the smooth blue inked skin to her hip where she pressed his fingers firmer into her side.

Something dangerously inappropriate sparked in his core when she rolled her hips against his and he groaned at the growing pressure in his pants. Against his better judgement - because this wasn’t a matter of judgement, it was a matter of focus - his groin twitched under her.

Scar’s dirty socks, Hummer’s mysterious wrist-zyst, that time little Manon caught the stomach flu and threw up all over him.

“Don’t you want to?” Her voice hit him like a bucket of ice cold water.

He tore his hand out of her grip, retracting it like he’d been zapped.

“Yes,” he panted out without thinking, too honest for his own good, keeping his hands pressed to the pillow near his head. Away from her.

She mustered him with drawn brows, clearly confused at the divergence between his words and actions.

“You’re drunk,” he repeated like it would land any differently if he said it often enough.

His fists clenched tightly on the pillow and her eyes darted over to the motion.

“Just… ask me again in the morning,” he said. He’d gotten to terms that she’d just dip the way she always did and they’d never talk about anything that happened within these four walls again. In this case it might even be for the best.

Finally, she sat back with a pout on her face, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I don’t like this.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” he bit back.

She blinked at him, taken aback by his sudden abrasiveness.

He couldn't bring himself to feel bad about snapping at her when his jaw was beginning to ache from how tightly he grit his teeth.

The irony of it all sent him reeling.

“Geez… fine,” she sighed in defeat, rolling off of him, though left her arm draped over his chest. He released a relieved breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. “Thought we’d make out or somethin’ fun like that…”

“Not like this. Say that again when you’re sober.”

They were going in circles, although he could sense their back and forth was coming to an end with the giant yawn that tore through her.

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” she mumbled into his pec, blinking slowly and finally, finally, her eyes closed a final time and didn’t open again. He didn’t dare push her off further, not wanting to risk waking her up and starting this conversation all over again.

“Good fucking Winds," he breathed, dragging his free hand down his face.

-

He woke up with a headache.

An annoying thudding that made him cringe the moment he opened his eyes. The light flooding his room was attacking his eyes with a million stings and he decided to just take a few moments of rest until the world felt less aggressive.

His peace didn't last, though, with the annoying rustling coming from the side. He ignored it, grabbing the tail end of his blanket and rolling himself up in it. A protesting groan - a familiar, raspy sound - made him freeze.

Jinx was still there.

Last night suddenly came back to him.

His eyes tore open, jerking up from his pillow, morning grogginess gone momentarily.

She rubbed her eyes, not fully awake yet, and apparently not planning to. She smacked her lips a few times before turning to the other side, already beginning to doze off again.

"Jinx!" He hissed, shaking her shoulder. A read of his clock told him she only had a few minutes before the next patrol would move out and as the day progressed it would become harder to slip out unnoticed. "You're missing your window."

She was still here. It was morning and she was still-

"You need to leave now," he pressed and her eyes finally blinked open. Her breath hitched the moment she realised where she was .

"Fuck, what time is it?" She asked, jumping up from the bed. Her braids were tousled, eyeshadow smudged, no trace of her lipstick. It wasn't a glamorous sight but he's seen her in worse shape.

"Eight fifty."

She cursed again, striding over to his wardrobe, throwing the doors open.

"Hey!"

She shushed his protest, pulling out one of the storm masks he wore under his owl mask. It only left her face open, covering her head and neck. Her braids flew out from under the hem, inconveniently long when it came to hiding your identity.

"I need a disguise, everyone's already out and about." Next, she pulled out one of his cloaks, throwing it over her shoulders.

As if remembering something, she turned back to him.

“Oh and… if I said anything weird yesterday, just…” her eyes flickered to his lips, and he knew - he knew - she remembered, “don’t mind it. Drunk brain, ya know?” She swirled her finger around her temple with a shrug, before pulling up her hood.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

Of course, it was nothing he hadn't expected. The confirmation didn’t hurt any less, though.

“Already forgotten,” he gritted, avoiding her eyes.

“Right.”

The silence was maddening, but he couldn’t allow himself to speak.

Iron taste filled his mouth, teeth sunken deep in his cheek to keep himself from lashing out.

From telling her how cruel she was. Selfish. Unfair. How she didn’t get to barge into his room, horny and irresponsible, when he had to tear his heart out, because he desperately wanted this.

But he didn’t want another fight, they already fought enough as is outside of his bedroom. He just wanted her to leave before the dam broke.

They both startled when a knock interrupted their exchange.

“We need you in the conference room, boss,” came Scar’s voice through the door but the knob didn't turn.

Jinx was frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

“Just a sec.” He cocked his head towards her personal exit and without hesitation she took her escape.

She threw an awkward ‘bye’ over her shoulder, slipping out through his window.

4.

He didn’t like that she was always on his mind. A constant buzzing from the backseat.

Weeks passed again and she didn’t come see him, not drunk or otherwise.

On one hand, he didn’t want her to, but it didn’t take much introspection to realize he was simply wasn't fond of a repeat. She’d tell him more sweet lies, ask him for the very things he had a hard time saying no to, but indulging was out of question. On the other hand, a dull sickness spread in his stomach at the thought that she might visit someone else, once she decided he wasn’t satisfactory.

He wished it was just possessiveness. That he only cared about her sharing what he wanted with someone else. But that wasn’t it. Of course it would hurt, gravely, but he’d live and eventually might even move on. What would truly tear his heart beyond recovery, was her crawling through the window of someone who cared less. Someone who would have kissed her despite it all. Maybe done more than that.

In his worst moments he found himself beating himself up for always being the bigger man. Some Ekko, in some parallel universe, had gotten the pleasure of having her that night and he envied that Ekko as much as he despised him. It was all a result of him caring like some stupid, lovesick puppy.

He couldn’t decide if it was a nightmare or a dream come true when she climbed through his window again. A nauseating mix of relief and disappointment made him pull his knees to his chest as he laid on his side, back turned to her.

Nevertheless, he felt her presence in the room, timid footsteps nearing the bed. The mattress dipped just slightly, as though she was testing the waters.

“Can I stay? I’m not gonna-“ she stumbled over her words. She didn’t sound like she was drunk, but a faint smell of alcohol still stood in the air. Liquid courage, then. “No… funny business.”

He reached back, silently folding the blanket over to make room for her. Even though it was her who had asked, she remained unmoving for a few moments. Maybe she’d been expecting a warmer welcome, or maybe a harsher one. He knew he had it in him - the rage or the relief, depending on which part he wanted to unleash onto her - but he was too burnt out to be involved.

Finally, he heard the rustle of fabric behind him as she got situated under the blanket. He could feel her puffs of breath on his shoulder, but she wasn’t touching him.

“I just…" she started, but her voice waivered. "I just wanted to make it worth your while. You, always letting me stay.”

He huffed at that, fist tight around his bedsheets. “Don’t decide for me what is and isn’t ‘worth my while’. I’ve let you in before without demanding something in return.”

“We were younger.”

“We’ve kissed long before that,” he couldn’t help but point out. Dig out their distant past.

“I guess we did.” He could hear the smile on her lips, but there was no hopefulness in her voice. The memory felt like a lifetime ago and for her, it probably was.

“Do you ever wish I was dead?” She asked him. Her voice sounded too casual for what she was asking.

He shook his head earnestly to which she just hummed, resting her cheek on his back. He knew what her next words would be before she even opened her mouth, bracing himself for the impact.

“Sometimes I wish you were,” she whispered, like it was a secret. “You’d finally stop haunting me. You’re the only ghost with a heartbeat.”

He couldn't bring himself to be upset with her. Jinx said a lot of things when she was drunk.

Funny, that she’d call him the ghost.

5.

Ekko had a hard time looking forward to her next visit.

It hadn’t been news that they were enemies and maybe having those private secluded moments with her had blinded him, fooled him into thinking she’d go soft on them; made him forget what she was capable of.

In the first days after she’d killed Hummer the shadows of his bedroom walls seemed to move in unnatural ways and leaves outside his window were whispering something unintelligible.

For some reason he had expected her.

“Get out,” he hissed the moment he heard the window snap open. His hands continued tightening a screw, only now harsher than before her arrival.

Silence hung in the air, she seemingly froze, not proceeding to enter nor following his order.

He tried to ignore her presence, waiting for any sign she had left again, but none came. Instead he felt the insistent burn of her stare in his neck, driving him insane.

Finally giving in, he spun around sharply.

“You don’t get to keep doing this, Jinx. You’ve made it pretty clear whose side you stand on.”

She stood scrunched up, arms crossed in front of her chest, but not in pride. No, her presence was anything but proud.

“I don’t… It’s not like I want to kill your friends. I’m just-”

“Bullets kill, Jinx.” He cut her off, her defensiveness only fuelling his disappointment. “Don’t act like that’s news to you.”

“I was doing my job.”

“Your job is killing my comrades.” He turned back to his workstation.

“My job was to guard,” she countered. “Your bugs attacked us. Under whose command was that?”

He shook his dead in disbelief, a frustrated laugh escaping him. “Are you seriously trying to blame me for his death?”

“All I’m saying is- is that you chose your job, too. The factory is in shambles and I have to take the fallout.”

His flat palms hit the table with a loud thud, making her flinch.

“Boo-hoo, your poor factory, if only fucking Hummer was here to mourn with you,” he spat, pushing himself up to a standing position.

Her bloodshot eyes were blown wide, blinking as if she was trying to accommodate the dull pain after being punched in the face.

Once she recovered, she broke out into a laugh, causing her split lip to tear open, a bead of blood pooling at the wound until it grew too heavy and trickled down her chin, past the bruise that crept around her neck he’d only just noticed.

Only the twitch in his palms gave away his failed attempt at ignoring it. The guilt he felt was entirely misplaced when he had never even laid hands on her neck.

“You wanna compare miseries, now?” She cried out almost hysterically.

His stance wavered when she took a step towards him, hands shooting up in front of him, preparing for her to lunge.

“You think I don’t care whose blood I have on my hands? I hear them. All the time. Hummer will be right here,” she tapped her temple, grin wavering as the corners of her mouth started twitching, “forever, unless I-“ her voice broke as she straightened out two fingers and held them to the spot she just tapped - where Hummer continued raging past his time. There was a slight tremble to her hand, a sheer layer of sweat clinging to her forehead catching the dim light of his table lamp, pupils blown wide with a pink glimmer to the thin band of her iris.

He stared at her, something heavy settling in his chest when he realized she wasn’t just drunk. It felt like saying goodbye to yet another part of her.

She let her hand drop with a giggle, pulling her shoulders to her ears. Her hands were balled at her hips and couldn’t see the expression she was making with the way her face was tilted down.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” her voice was tight with unshed tears, “Always on the right side, aren’t ya?”

She sounded almost accusatory, as if he coincidentally found himself in this position. Like he hadn’t been making choices that brought him there, as opposed to good fortune.

“You can still change. If you want to.”

She snapped her head up, but she didn’t look relieved or happy. Her lips were skewed like she had bitten on something bitter, eyes burning with rage.

“Oh really, and where do you presume I go, boy saviour?” She spat the name like it was poisonous, throwing her arms to the sides. “Here?”

He pressed his lips together tightly until it hurt, before he could make a promise he wouldn’t be able to hold.

He doubted the firelights would trust her. Hell, he didn’t even trust her, much less would he be able to defend her.

And it didn’t fly past her, that her visits had been kept a secret.

After a few seconds of telling silence she huffed bitterly.

“That’s what I thought.”

Hurt. There was so much hurt in her eyes.

Trembling lips fruitlessly pressed into a tight smile.

When had he stopped believing in her?

He averted his gaze.

Maybe love wasn’t something one fell into by chance. Maybe it wasn’t loving Jinx that came easy to him, if anything, loving her was but effortless. It was the effort itself that he used to make without question. Even after she excluded him from her life, he let her waltz back into his whenever she pleased.

He had often pondered if there was a hill he wouldn’t climb for her, but right now he was facing a mountain, presented with a choice that seemed so natural throughout his life. With every act of love and every burn he would get for it, he felt himself being stripped more and more of the kindness he had left to give. Right now he needed to set up camp and decide on a better day whether he still wanted to take this uphill battle.

Before he knew it he was walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?“

“Take the damn bed,” he placed his hand on the doorknob ready to leave.

“Wait… Ekko,” she took a shaky breath before letting out a defeated exhale, shoulders dropping. Her knees twitched but she stayed rooted in place. ”I didn’t come here to fight, I-“

“Whatever you came for, I can’t do it when you’re like,” he vaguely gestured to her form, “this. You wanna have a conversation? Sleep off… whatever you’re on.”

It was all too recent, too raw. Whatever they would create tonight would not be out of love.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered and he had to strain himself to blink away the tears that were pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“I- I can’t do this, Jinx. I’m all wrung out.” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice, desperation stripping it of all sound to the point of hoarseness. Tired, angry tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. She was biting her lip and he could see the silent plea in her eyes, but she didn’t ask again.

He slowly turned the doorknob, stepping out of his room.

Once the door fell closed behind him the universe granted him one deep breath until he was pulled under again.

The thought of leaving her alone, when he didn’t know what sight he would open the door to, sent shivers down his spine and sickness pooled in his stomach.

He couldn’t stand being with her either. At the sight of her dilated pupils, her split lip, that damned bruise on her neck. Gods, he remembered when she didn’t even carry a gun around.

His only solace were her cries, her wailing ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, but there was a reassurance in that. As long as there was sound to be heard, torturous as it may be, he’d stay on that side of the door.

Later that night, when the sounds had died down and the deafening silence crept in, he slowly turned the doorknob. The lock budged with a soft click and he peeked inside, heart beating in his throat, frustrated with himself that despite it all he couldn’t help but check up on her. She had killed his friend, for Janna’s sake.

Yet, as much as he was upset, as much as he had to tear himself apart to keep holding on to this belief that everyone in this treehouse would deem him insane for - even her - he knew that deep down she wasn’t evil.

The bed was empty.

His eyes darted around the room, finding her halfway out of the window.

“You were right,” she rasped, not turning to face him, “I can’t keep coming here.”

“Jinx-“

“I won’t tell him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It wasn’t, but she left before he could utter another word.

He spent the entire night and the days after with his heart in his mouth, wondering if she was safe, until he ran into her during another mission.

Ruthless as they came, she was a worthy daughter of her fathers.

Ekko felt lighter than ever.

He wasn’t sure if that was what getting drunk felt like, he would even argue that he remembered feeling rather heavier after drinking, but then again, it had been a while so couldn’t be sure.

The only thing he could be sure of was the direction he was placing one foot after another in. Climbing up the rusty ladder into an abandoned shop, all the way up to the roof, jumping from one roof to another, surprised he managed to do so without falling.

Maybe the lightness was helping.

“Look who it is,” she scoffed first thing, gun already pointed his way and he wondered how she knew where to aim when she wasn’t even facing him. “I thought we agreed you’re done boy-saving me.”

The moment she realized he hadn’t just figuratively, but literally stumbled into the crashed and repurposed blimp Jinx called her base, she lowered her weapon. He wasn't giving it any relevance anyway.

“Are you drunk?”

“Dunno… but I’m- I had a few,” he admitted. “And so I thought, why… why can’t I crash your peace once in a while.”

She let out a stunned scoff. “What the hell, Ekko. You get blasted and the first thing you do is even the score?”

“S’not even,“ he retorted, “you did it five times.”

“That’s not what- Janna, you’re counting?”

He gave her a confused look. “Of course I’m counting.”

She seemed to contemplate something, irritation passing her features by the revelation.

“I see,” she just huffed, her lips dark and pouty. He didn’t know what he said to tip her off, but he wanted to smooth out the crease between her eyebrows with his thumb. She’d probably shoot his hand off if he tried. “I guess, I owe you. Four more and we can be out of each other's hair.”

He frowned. She was cold as ice, a long shot from the girl he grew to know in his own four walls, always so eager to talk, even when it was yelling or crying.

Here, they were just standing in silence and Ekko couldn’t call himself content with the situation. He wanted to continue the conversation. About anything. But nothing came to mind, when suddenly there was a vast emptiness where racing thoughts had been just a few minutes ago.

“Don’t just stand there, knock yourself out.” She dismissively pointed him to a small purple canopy warmly lit by colorful fairy lights.

“Aren’t you going to sleep there?”

“I’ll just be over here,” she turned back to the workstation - to ignoring his existence.

“Talk to me,” he demanded for the lack of having a more tactful way of keeping her from entirely pulling away.

“You don’t really want that, Ekko,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Talking is not our strong suit, is it?”

He knew there was a threat in that phrase, her gun was still near, he had his fists.

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“Psh, you mean Powder. Jinx on the other hand…”

He could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his neck, hands balling into fists.

“No, Jinx, it’s you,” he snapped. “You can change your name again, reinvent yourself into something you think I’ll hate but I’ll still let you past my windowsill.” He looked around, exhaling sharply through his nose. Why was he so angry? “I mean, Janna, it hurts me every time, you think I do this for fun?”

“I didn’t ask you to,” she shrugged in return to his outburst. He wasn’t having her act when it was a blatant lie. She couldn’t take what he clearly remembered from him.

“But you did. You asked for a place to crash, you asked for my bed, you asked me to kiss you, you asked me to stay.” He could go on and on and on about all the things she’s asked of him.

“You didn’t even comply with half the- Why am I even arguing with you? Go to sleep already.”

“Why do you ask for these things to then turn around and deny it? I don’t understand you.. what do you want from me?”

She slammed her palms on the table, the rattling of the screws and nails echoing through the open space.

“Everything, Ekko! I want everything,” she bursted out. “I’m just this greedy girl that can’t settle for one thing. I want my friend back, I want my fathers love, I want this city to respect me, I want it to forget about me. I want to board an airship and fly far-far away, where nobody has ever heard of me.”

She buried her face in her hands, releasing an exhausted sigh.

“I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m at- at court when I’m around you. I can’t stand being near you unless I’m…” she stopped herself, taking a deep breath in but the exhale didn’t come, tension still locked in her shoulders. “Whatever. It’s too late to make amends.”

“It’s not-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit again, Ekko,” she bit back. “Your invitation to your little club expired long ago. You and I both know if I ever leave Silco's side it’s going to be in a casket.”

He was out of arguments.

It was true that some things couldn’t be undone and that he wasn’t the boy who offered her to run away together all those years ago. They both hit a wall with the other at one point or another and rejection left a wound that had a hard time healing.

“I can’t say I understand it,” he replied truthfully, making her scoff and return back to her project. “But I want to.”

She didn’t react, continuing her tinkering without even a twitch.

“I do,“ he insisted, taking a step closer.

“You say that and yet you avoid me like the plague unless I need a place to crash. And it wasn’t like you were happy to see me then either.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Oh, come on, it was obvious. You only tolerated my visits because I know where your little hideout is. As much as I tried giving you a better reason.”

“I-“ Ekko staggered to find the right words to explain how starkly the picture she painted differed from his, “I tried to stay out of your hair. You told me to leave you alone. You hit me, for Janna’s sake! Of course I still wanted you around, I was waiting for you to show some kind of interest.”

“And sobbing that I want to be your friend while sitting in my own bile wasn’t?” She spat, the coldness in her voice leaving a sting.

“You went back to him and doubled down, what was I supposed to believe? You never tried reaching out unless you were drunk either. Like I was just some kind of afterthought.”

“Well, you’re. Not. Happy?” She cried out, flailing her arms. “One drop of alcohol and you’re the first thought. Winds and waves, you’re every thought! That one thing I can’t have because I ‘picked the wrong side’.”

She paused, curling over the table, chin propped up on one hand the other pulling lightly on her fringe.

“Spilt milk,“ she rasped with a faint shrug. The sudden change in volume made her seem smaller. “No use crying over it.”

She sounded utterly defeated.

Truth be told, he never considered her drunken ramblings could be her honest thoughts. He never truly knew where to place them, but if you knew what to look for, it seemed like the truth had never really been well hidden. Even though she had a very confusing way of showing it.

Suddenly he felt sober.

“Jinx…”

He didn’t even notice how his hand found her shoulder, fingers gently curling around blue clouds.

I’m sorry I gave up on you, he wanted to tell her. But like she had said, talking wasn’t their strong suit.

Instead he bent forward, arms wrapping around her torso, resting his forehead in the crook of her neck and stayed there, waiting for her to melt.

And she did.

Slowly the outer layers thawed as she began shaking in his arms. The ice melted, drops landing on the inside of his wrist, but they were warm and salty. Fossils, long forgotten species like fable creatures, memories of the past trapped between freezing cold structures, all released.

He took slow, steadying breaths as she sniffled, still trying to compose herself.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

There was no resistance when he gently pulled her over to the canopy, she didn’t say a word when they both climbed under the covers, warm, colorful light making shadows dance over their skin as they moved through the tight space.

She lay down facing him, but the space between them felt like she was on the other side of runeterra. Her fingers twitched hesitantly as their eyes met, bloodshot, tired with soft and sorrowful.

“Closer?” He asked to which she nodded slowly.

As if she had been waiting for his permission she snuggled under his chin, her soft breaths warming his sternum, slowly evening out as they both were pulled under.

In the morning, when their heads were still in the clouds, sleep-drunk and warm like they had been basking in the sun, she straddled him.

“Closer.”

Her lips found his, slow and burning, while his hands traveled to her hips, holding on like he had wanted to for as long as he had known desire.

“Closer,” she mumbled against the skin of his throat.

Heavy breaths pushed her chest against his, no barriers between them. He clawed at any part he could grab, her nails broke his skin.

Closer.

Their bodies moved in sync, burning flames melting the remaining ice.