Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jinx was late.

She was so late, and Vi was going to kill her.

Really, it wasn’t her fault.

Heimerdinger was impossibly stuck up about wrapping up all her work before clocking out — “new hires must always leave good impressions. Even if they’ve graduated top of their class…” — and she’d underestimated her workload for the day, drawing her towards half an hour of overtime.

Then she’d missed her first bus and only narrowly caught the trolley — the goddamn trolley, which scampered down each webbed, narrow street like honey falling from a spoon; slow, incessant. Jinx considered that maybe it’d be faster to just run — but then she also considered how little she cared to go where she was going, and she let the trolley be for what it was.

Tucked against her pocket, Jinx could feel the constant buzz of her phone. She didn’t have to make any wild guesses as to who it was. Five missed calls, way more texts, too.

Vi, 29m ago: we just got here :) lmk when you’re nearby

Vi, 25m ago: we’re seated by the window btw

Vi, 17m ago: everything okay?

Vi, 13m ago: powder?? hellloooo??

Vi, 9m ago: ok where the hell are u im getting freaked out

Vi, 9m ago: at least tell me if ur late

Vi, 7m: please, Cait is tweaking right now cause the waiters keep asking when our third is supposed to show

Vi, 2m: powder r u serious

Shit. Jinx prodded at the cracked screen of her phone — the glass was so shattered she could barely even hit the a’s or the s’s without them doubling.

aaalmosst there. got on trolley. 5 mins tops.

Five minutes was generous ­— it’d probably be ten and Vi knew her well enough to get it.

Eventually, the cable car stuttered to a stop. Jinx shoved herself off and onto the sidewalk, nearly striking herself against a streetlamp in the process. It was already dark out, despite it barely being six o’clock, and though it was colder than usual, the streets were littered with people — families out walking their dogs, students making their way to bars after class. And Jinx — Jinx heading to a fancy dinner for some off-handed family reunion.

She’d seen Vi last month — saw Vi often. But not with her girl, not at these kinds of places. Usually, they’d meet at Vi’s work — the sandwich shop she co-owned with her high school friend, Jayce, by Golden Gate Park. Sometimes Vi would swing by her and Ekko’s place, too. Rarely — very rarely — would Jinx find herself at Vi and Cait’s house. When she did, it was typically when Cait was at work.

But Vi had insisted for this; said it was for something special. Maybe Cait got a nice big raise at her law firm, Jinx figured, and wanted to rub it in over a bottle of wine priced at a quarter of Jinx’s rent.

The walk to the restaurant — something called Lucia’s or Lucio’s or Luca’s or whatever generic Italian name it was — was quick and windy. The place was tucked away in some homey Pacific Heights borough, and at this time of year, doors and windows and fences were either decked out with rotting, leftover Halloween pumpkins or early Christmas lights. The first week of November always made for that awkward mesh of both. But Jinx liked it — liked the chaos in the sparkling whites and the deep, brown oranges. It made her want to paint — to pick up a brush and slab all the colours together.

She turned a narrow corner. Jinx halted at the sign that hung across the street; a slab of thick wood — Lucilla’s. Huh. She’d been close.

Outside, it was cold enough for the window’s glass to crystallize, but even through its haze could she make out Vi’s deep red side-sweep, the coiled tattooed sleeve on her right arm. From next to her, she could even see Vi’s girl.

Vi was burly — a bolder that often blocked. But Caitlyn was long — willowy where Vi was firm, tall where Vi was hunched. And from above Vi’s lowered head, Jinx caught that pinched ponytail, those taut brows.

Jinx frowned at the sight of her, even from a distance. It was just one night. One dinner. They hardly ever did this. She probably wouldn’t even have to see Cait ‘til Christmas, given Vi planned on working Thanksgiving.

She took a breath before crossing the street and heaving open that heavy oak door.

The whole place was drenched in dim, blooming orange — like the wick of a candle scorched beneath the floor and bled its light through the hardwood. It smelled like fire, too — a wood-burning oven was nestled across the room in a corner, crowded with cooks.

Waiters in silk vests shucked past her holding trays of glossy plates — pizzas topped with goat cheese and Italian sausage; fettuccine drenched in cream and pepper; fresh bread that steamed from their woven baskets.

People were peppered everywhere, cloaked in the orange. Rich-looking people — well-dressed people — people who looked like they belonged here.

Jinx shot a look down at herself. Her jean jacket wasn’t old, exactly — worn, maybe, was a better word for it. Her boots were pointed at the ends, but their leather was tearing off like loose skin.

She would’ve worn her lab shirt if Vi hadn’t pressed her not to — begged her to dress up, just for this once. Jinx didn’t get the trouble — Vi cared less for what she wore than Jinx did. They’d spent their teenage years thrifting tattered things, coloured things — stealing sported sweaters from Vander’s closet to swap and layer up.

But this was her doing, of course. Cait’s. Vi just loved her enough to follow along.

So, she’d tried; tried for Vi, and no one else. Found some mauve, velvet top from when her and Ekko would club-hop in college.

Still, she didn’t hold a candle to anyone else in the room. Her hair was mostly what did it, Jinx figured — long and braided into two blue parts. It was the way she’d had it since she was fourteen, when she’d first dyed it, and for no one — no place — would that change. Even under the melty, sunset lights, her hair shattered through all illusions of attempted assimilation.

Jinx huffed. Of all restaurants in San Francisco — all diners and sushi bars and café’s — Cait had to settle on the kind that reminded Jinx of their differences.

And by extension, a reminder of who Caitlyn was. A reminder of why Jinx just couldn’t like her. Couldn’t get what Vi seemed to get.

The hostess — some pretty, well-kept blonde — was eyeing Jinx like she was lost.

“Table for…one?”

Jinx frowned. If only. “Try three, tuts.”

She shrugged past the hostess, who shot her a muddled look as their shoulders brushed, and filtered her way through narrow-set tables towards her sister.

When Vi caught sight of her, the look on her face seemed to melt.

“Powder!”

Vi shot up in place, the chair wobbling up with her — she’d almost stirred the whole table. Cait shot her a bewildered look, but Vi didn’t mind it. She snuck past Cait, stumbling out to throw her arms around Jinx’s shoulders.

“Hey, you!”

For that minute, with her head tucked in the crook of Vi’s neck, she forgot where they stood — forgot the people, forgot Cait, forgot the food. For that minute, it was just the two of them — Vi and Powder; Powder and Vi — the way it had been for so long.

Until it hadn’t — (her fault; her own fault) — then, had again.

She didn’t dwell on it — jerked the voice back. Not now.

Vi pulled away enough to look at her. She kept a hand at the back of her head, fingers warm.

“Was gonna blast you for being late, but —”

Behind her, a throat cleared itself. Jinx shot a look across Vi’s shoulder to where Cait was standing now, too. She was wearing a sleeveless turtleneck, and her ponytail was so sleek and dark it almost looked navy against the milkiness of her bare shoulder.

“Powder.” There was that stupid accent. She tried to joke. “Thought you’d bailed on us.”

She shot her a glare. “Jinx,” she corrected.

Only Vi and Ekko could call her Powder—only Vi and Ekko knew who she was in her childhood; before Vi went to juvie, before the group home.

Everyone else called her Jinx. It was the nickname she’d gone by since her first group home—since Vi left—and it stuck. Jinx and Cait had only met a handful of times before, but it was enough for Cait to know her preferred name.

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound very sorry. “I’m just so used to Vi calling you Powder, I thought…”

 Cait pursed her lips and settled for sitting back down, like she’d been wrong for standing at all. She reached for the glass of wine at her side. It was already half-empty, stained by red wine. “Never mind.”

Vi pulled back and helped her with her bag, slotting it onto the chair across from herself so that she’d have to sit facing Caitlyn. Of course — Vi was insistent on their need to get along.

“Work was busy, I’m betting?” Vi reached for her own glass — just water.

“Sort of.” Jinx shrugged. “Mostly just my boss being nitpicky.”

She’d been a research assistant at Zaun Tech for nearly three months now, and while Heimerdinger was rather particular, he was still a whole lot better than any other boss she’d ever had.

Cait tugged at the stem of her glass, and the string of diamonds on her bracelet chimed against the rim. She flashed Jinx a smile that looked like it’d been forced out from some deep, deep place inside.

“And the boyfriend — he’s working, then?”

Jinx shucked her jacket off, dropping it down against the seat rest before sitting down. Was this Cait’s way of making a joke?

“The who?”

“Uh.” Vi flashed Jinx a half-apologetic look. “She means Ekko.”

Cait glanced between Jinx and Vi — her brows twisted in the way they did when she was trying to draw something together. “Is he not…. Are you two not…?”

“We’re just roommates.”

And best friends. They’d known each other as kids, then stopped knowing each other for a while, then fell back together again in college.

She hadn’t even known they’d both enrolled to the same school — they just both happened to take Intro to Psychology as a first term elective. She nearly didn’t recognize him at first, but once he’d raised his hand to speak, she’d known. That soft-spoken tone — the shiny demeanor. He hadn’t changed.

(Not like her — she’d changed. Unrecognizably so.)

“Oh,” Cait droned. “I thought — I mean, he’s usually with you, whenever we see each other.”

That was true, and Jinx’s doing. She’d beg Ekko to come to any event Caitlyn would be at — every party, every birthday, every dinner. She’d pry at his arm and latch there.

“Please,” she’d whine. “I can’t take her alone. I’d blow myself up. You’d have to clean my pieces up from the floor.”

And always Ekko would fake his annoyance. Huff ‘til she asked twice — three times —— before acting like his “yes” was burdening him in every way. But she knew he liked coming, liked the way Jinx would mock Cait on the ride home, in the days to come. She’d mime her accent and let Ekko mime it too — they’d bounce off each other.

But there was no one to bounce off now — no one to poke at when Cait said something self-indulgent; something obliviously shallow. She’d just have to fill him in on it later.

“Not tonight.” Jinx reached for a warm bun from the basket at the middle of the table. She tore it open, and steam heaved from its insides. “He’s got a double.”

He’d tried to change his shift, but no one wanted to trade their Friday night off.

“I see.” Cait reached for another drop of wine. Jinx caught the way she was eyeing her for breaking a piece of bread with her hands and dipping it into a slab of butter.

They were saved from awkward silence, thankfully, when a waiter stumbled over and asked if they wanted any appetizers. Cait and Vi settled on sharing a caprese salad while Jinx opted for a bowl of fried calamari.  

While they waited, the small talk between them mostly consisted of Cait’s potential business trip to New York and Vi’s plans to expand the sandwich shop — something about more kinds of meals — but Jinx lost interest when their waiter sauntered over with their food.

Jinx was squeezing a lemon slice across her plate when she noticed the way Cait nudged Vi’s shoulder. Vi caught her glance and nodded, reaching down to squeeze at Cait’s hand — the left one that was hidden beneath the table.

“Powder,” Vi started, “we, uh — we asked you to come for dinner with us because we wanted to tell you something. Something important.”

Jinx jabbed at a piece of fish with her fork, dunking into the bowl of marinara. She shot Vi a curious look. “Okay?”

Cait was still clutching at the stem of that wine glass like it held a lifeline, and Jinx was lost to how it hadn’t yet crushed beneath her fist. She looked nervous — Cait often did. Often, she was tense, and tight — like a stick was up her ass, she’d told Ekko once. But this was different. This was genuine anxiety.

Huh. Maybe she was going back home to London — to whatever hole in England her and her family had crawled out of before moving to California.

Maybe now, Vi would stop dragging her to places like this, and could move into her corner of San Francisco — could feel like her sister again, and not someone who was stolen from her twice-over. The first time at twelve, by the law. The second at twenty-one, by Caitlyn — who, really, was just another extension of the law.

Her hope hardly had time to settle — she’d barely wished Caitlyn her goodbyes before Vi’s mouth split into a broadened grin.

“Cait and I ” — she broke off to laugh; that true candid kind of laughter — “We’re engaged!”

Jinx’s fork fell from her grip. It collided with her dish in a resounding clang that echoed through the whole of the restaurant. Marinara sauce splattered, dotting at the velvet of her shirt.

What.

“Engaged?” Jinx blanked. “But…It’s only been like…”

“Three years,” Cait commended. She moved her left hand out from where it had been sitting on her lap, tucked under the table. On her finger, an emerald-cut diamond gleamed. A smile met her mouth; the most earnest one she’d had all evening. “Give or take.”

“But you’re so —” Jinx felt like she was floundering. “You’re so young.”

She looked right at Vi when she said it, who stifled a laugh.

“We’re 27, Pow-Pow. We live together, we love our jobs. This just… This felt like the natural progression of things.”

God, it all made sense now. The restaurant, the dress code, Cait and Vi’s poorly masked anxieties.

Vi was looking at her with widened, hopeful eyes — like her response was to determine everything. God, she hated that. Hated that Vi looked at her like she needed her to be good — needed her to react accordingly.

Because where was the good?

Cait was nothing like them — had grown up knowing no inkling of struggle, in a nice big home with two nice, kind parents. She’d gotten scholarships — gotten praise — gotten luxury and friends and safety.

And now, she got Vi, too.

Vi, who knew nothing if not what it meant to struggle, to know injustice. Vi, who used to cuss out teachers and principals and cops. Vi, who’d taken the blame for Powder’s mistakes one too many times.

Jinx just couldn’t get it — didn’t get how it worked between them. But she caught their shared glances. Saw the way they looked at each other, huddled close at parties, when they thought no one else was looking — the love there was real; tangible.

Vi was happy. Jinx couldn’t get why, but she was. And Jinx hated how badly she wished she wasn’t. Not with Caitlyn.

Vi was still looking at her now, blue eyes shiny under the flame-like restaurant. She was still waiting for an answer. Jinx hadn’t realized how nice she looked ‘til now — the open-button blouse, the shiny gold band on her finger.

She looked like she belonged. And Jinx was struck, suddenly, at the realization that she was the only one left here who didn’t.

Jinx loved her sister. But she couldn’t love this.

“Oh, wow,” was all Jinx managed. She plucked her fork back up and shoved another piece of fish into her mouth. “That sex must be real good, huh?”

--

Ekko was early.

That wasn’t uncommon — he’d always been too anxious about time — too worried that there’d never be enough of it, that it slipped past him, through him, a brook that leaked into never-ending succession.

He liked to feel ahead, like time was a race he could beat. He’d ran marathons since high school and felt like maybe this was some kind of extension of that.

He still had a solid five minutes left of his break, but after eating his dinner — some cheap burrito he’d bought from the cafeteria — there wasn’t anything else left to do. He tossed the balled-up aluminum foil into the garbage, washed his hands, and made his way towards the fifth floor — paediatrics.

He’d worked as an ER nurse right after grad, before they eventually transferred him over to paediatrics a few months back. He wasn’t sure which he preferred ­— parents were hard to deal with, most times, but the ER was a realm of chaos in its own way.

At this time of night though, paediatrics was quiet enough — most kids were too busy being fussed over by their parents, lulled into sleep — and Ekko had already done his med rounds before eight o’clock.

That left him with potential urgent calls and boring chores — paperwork and filing crap — the kind of thing that made him wish someone had swapped his Friday for their Monday.

He could’ve been tucked in the corner of a restaurant with Jinx right now, flicking at her thigh every time Cait — Vi’s girlfriend — said the kind of thing that made her sound like she’d been born on another planet.

She hadn’t replied to any of his good luck texts, which caused for some concern. Maybe it was going well… or terrible. He’d only know later.

The elevator chimed to announce its opening, and immediately Claggor waved him down from where he leaned against the reception counter.

"Ekko, hey!” He shot him a smile, eyeing him above his horn-rimmed glasses. “We got a new patient in from the ER for you to add to your rounds tonight. Room 117 — broken arm and a minor concussion. Dr. Medarda should be in to see her soon.”

Ekko shot him a thumbs up, readjusting the stethoscope that hung from the back of his neck. “Sounds good, I’ll check it out.”

“Oh, and be careful,” Claggor reached out to hand him the patient’s file. “I’ve been warned by ER that she bites.”

Ekko shrugged. He dealt with lots of different kinds of kids — mean, shy, emotional, recluse — and all they really wanted was the same thing: to feel better. And so he tried his best to guarantee that.

Knocking on the door of room 117, Ekko prodded his head in before fulling entering.      

“Hi.”

The girl was small — couldn’t be any older than eight — with a thin, hospital blanket hauled up around her. Her left arm was wrapped up in a cast, and she was holding it at her chest with her right one, like it might fall off her shoulder if she didn’t.

Under the white, sterile lights of the hospital, her skin glowed paler than it should — as if draped by the thinnest layer of snow — and her short hair stuck up in wild, choppy tufts of brown. Her eyes — big and gold and bug-like — hardened at the sight of Ekko in the doorway.

She hauled her own arm closer, cradling. He opened her file.

“You must be Isha.” Ekko moved forward, lingering by the very corner of her bed.

 “My name is Ekko. I’ll be your nurse for the next couple of hours. You just gotta press this little button here” — he pointed at the switch on her bedside railing — “if you need me, okay?”

The girl — Isha — blinked at him, unmoving. Right. A quiet one, then.  

He looked back into her file, tossing through the papers.

Isha’s eyes narrowed — like she was ready to pounce — to run, if she had to. Her file said she’d tried to back in the ER, when the nurses wanted to get a closer look at her arm.

“Where’re your parents?” Still, she said nothing. Her stare was weary — blank. Her papers said she didn’t speak, but Ekko wondered if she was just too scared to. The nurses in the ER weren’t always the kindest.

Then his eyes narrowed when he saw it, scribbled in scrawny ink on the sheet: Foster-Care.

Shit. His head snapped up to look at her — the weary way she held herself, the frayed look in her eyes. Most kids he dealt with were handled by their parents — not always willingly — but whether they were careless or overbearing, they still had them.

For a second — just a second — he felt small again; remembered the way Benzo’s house felt when he first got there. It smelled different — like hard-candies and some kind of metal. But it was safe — safer than the group homes, than the other places he’d been.  

He suddenly felt guilty for having even asked. He should’ve read Isha’s file first. He remembered how badly he hated when people just assumed.

Ekko swallowed the lump at his throat and settled on saying something else, something safer. “You’re seven, yeah?”

Isha said nothing, still. She watched the way he moved, her owl eyes wide and careful.

“I remember being seven — Broke a few bones, too.” He reached over from the sink to get her a glass of water, slotting it by her bedside table and recoiling quickly at the way Isha barred her teeth, like slotting a finger towards the trigger of a gun.

She softened once he backed off, and Ekko clenched his brows. He motioned for her arm. “How’d it happen?”

Isha eyed him guardedly, fearless. Then slowly, after a handful of seconds, she made a tumbling motion with her good hand, flopping it onto her lap with a thud. It was the most she’d managed to imply all night.

“You fell?”

 She nodded sluggishly, hair tumbling to her face as she did. She reached for the water he offered — looking down into it, then back up at Ekko, then back down again — and gulped it down in one quick swig.

“From where?”

Behind him, a rattling sound echoed out — thin heels clicking against polished tiles — and a woman tumbled in. Her hair was lazily pinned back, with loose curls prodding out at the ends. She huffed, shoving a phone into the front pocket of her blazer.

“Sorry — Sorry, I’m here.” She drew out a hand for Ekko to shake. “Sky.”

Ekko took her hand and nodded. Relief flooded through him. At least she looked kind — so many foster parents weren’t.

 “You’re Isha’s foster mother?”

“Oh, no,” Sky sighed, desperate and quick. “I’m her social worker.”

Fuck. The too-big blazer, the thin, wired glasses. Those bags under her eyes, aging her more than they should. Of course.

“And her foster parents? Are they coming?”

“Well, given she was running away from them, I don’t think she’d appreciate that.”

Ekko shot a look back at Isha. She was squeezing at the empty cup he’d just given her with her good hand. She didn’t seem relieved at Sky’s presence — didn’t seem worried either. Like the woman was inconsequential.

“Why was she running away?”

“It’s harder to tell, with kids like this” — kids who didn’t speak, she meant — “but after some investigation they weren’t exactly… suitable.”

“She uses her hands to talk,” Ekko pried, “she did with me, earlier.”

“I know, but she hardly knows proper signs.” Sky was looking at him like he knew nothing — like what he was offering had already been undone. “She just signed the words mean and yell and that left us having to fill in the blanks. Anyway, we’ll be relocating her.”

Oh. Ekko knows he was lucky enough to have Benzo in the way Vi and Jinx were lucky enough to have Vander.

Behind Sky, Ekko only now noted that another woman hovered by the doorway. She was holding something behind her back.

“Good evening, Ekko.”

“Hey, Mel.” To be fair, he’d tried calling her Doctor Medarda for months, but she insisted on going by Mel.

Mel was a thin, stern woman whose presence magnetized every room. Even Isha’s guard dropped a little, just for a second, when the woman approached her.

Eventually, one she crossed that imaginary boundary, Isha barred her teeth again — ready to pounce, when Sky’s voice sounded out, shrill and high.

“Don’t bite the doctor!”

Dr. Medarda didn’t seem to mind — She hardly flinched. She only reached down and pressed an old, tattered bear onto Isha’s bed. She must’ve grabbed it from their reusable pile. Despite its withered condition, Isha brushed a steady hand across its dried-up fur.

Mel smiled, and Isha gave in with gentle reluctance, letting her flash white light by into eyes, ordering her to look left or right or up or down. She answered yes or no questions with the dull shake or nod of her head.

Once Mel clicked her light off, Sky rose from her seat. “So, how long do you think she has to stay?”

“Just a few days. While we monitor her concussion.”

“That’s fine — better, even — gives me more time to find her a nicer place to go.”

Isha sank into the covers at that, like she didn’t believe her. She probably had no reason to.

Mel offered her an apologetic look. “No screens, I’m sorry. You’ll need to get creative for a few days.”

Isha’s face fell — the room was practically empty. The hospital had toys; some pathetic, generic things that’d been passed on from kid to kid since nineteen-ninety-something, probably. But there were no patterned blankets from home, no familiar pillow. No parents. Nothing but the hospital-supplied TV that hung and rained static when it opened.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Ekko shot her a smile. “I’ll be here tomorrow, we can play some games, yeah?”

Isha eyed him — those gold eyes too tired for their age, too untrusting. She looked him up and down like she was drawing him; measuring his worth.

Then after a while, like she’d made up her mind, she blinked up at him and mustered a tiny nod.

Ekko smiled. “Good.”

Later, when his shift eventually ended, he shot one last glance in the room to find her still awake — that tattered bear sat in her lap, looking like it’d crumble right beneath her touch.

He left the hospital that night with a stone settling in his stomach, sinking, and sinking and sinking.

--

Awkward wasn’t a strong enough word to define how the rest of Jinx’s dinner went.

Cait excused herself three times to run off to the bathroom — Jinx twice, at intervals — and Vi hardly looked at either of them, picking the mushrooms off her pizza because she’d forgotten to ask the waiter for none. Jinx and Cait each drank half the bottle of wine before their main dishes even came out, leaving none for Vi.

By the end of it, Cait sheepishly offered to pay and left what seemed like a generous tip, even if the waiter kinda sucked. They wandered out of the restaurant together, Cait leading them outside with her heels clacking against the hardwood.

She hardly wished Jinx a goodbye before she murmured something about being too cold to stand around, insisting for Vi to meet her in the car when she “was done with Jinx.”

Once Cait was out of sight, Jinx turned to face Vi. Fog hung thick across every dipping, rising street. It draped low behind Vi, turning her to an apparition.

Jinx blew a strand of hair from her face. “It’s not cold enough for her to be doing all that.”  

Vi scowled at her — that deep, burrowing scowl she’d use when they were kids, and Powder’d done something she knew she shouldn’t have.

“You know, you could’ve at least faked being happy for us.”

“What for?”

“For me,” Vi urged. Her tone was bordering on desperate, and Jinx almost felt bad. Almost. “So that I don’t have to go home to a fiancée who thinks her sister-in-law wishes she’d just vanish from thin air.”

Sister-in-law. Oh, how gross.

Jinx raised her brows. “Well, we both know I’m not a good liar.”

Vi let out a sigh so deep it looked like she’d been holding it in all her life. She dug her face into both of her hands.

“Look, you two need to get along, okay? Somehow, you need to learn. I love both of you — I’m not losing either of you, not making any choices.”

Somehow, it felt like she already had. And that choice sat now, in the passenger’s seat of Cait’s Audi, handling the diamond on her left hand.

“We’re just —” Jinx struggled to put it nicely. She’d save the bad words for later, for Ekko. “We’re too different, Vi! I can try to put up with her — I’ll sit through her stoning at dinners — but I’ll never like her. I’m sure she feels the same about me.”

“You’ve barely even tried to make it work!” Vi puffed. “Neither of you.”

Jinx dropped her head low. She didn’t want for Vi to be upset, but she couldn’t lie. She couldn’t.

It hadn’t always been like this. When they were younger — before Vander died — before their parents died, too — she’d have never done anything to let Vi’s happiness waiver. Couldn’t stand the thought of displeasing her — upsetting her.

She’d thought Vi hung up each star in the sky with her very hands, plucked them up one by one. Fought every monster in her nightmares — every kid, eventually, who picked on her at school, in foster homes, in parks.

And then Vi left — Vi left for Powder’s mistake. And really, she owed her more now because of it, but Powder changed — changed into Jinx — and Vi changed, too. Everything changed.

“I’m sorry.” Jinx reached over to brush her arm. She forced out a laugh — aimed for a joke. “I’ll still come to your wedding if that’s what you’re scared of. It’ll be memorable, believe me, with Cait and I throwing all our food at each other.”

Vi shook her head — “You’re impossible,” she mumbled — then draped her in a hug. Her jacket was rough against the skin of her cheek, but it still smelled like her car — her own, from when she was twenty-one — the old Subaru she refused to get rid of, even if she could afford a new one.

On the street, a Tesla pulled up. Jinx caught a glance at it. “Crap, my Uber.”

They pulled apart, and Vi kept a hand at her cheek. “Call me?”

“’Til you have to block my number.”

Vi let out a quiet laugh; it hardly reached her eyes. “Okay, I’ll see you.”

Jinx gave her one last hug before stumbling into the Uber. Through the fog of the window, Jinx watched as Vi made her way towards Cait — towards home.

--

It was nothing like Vi’s place, but still, Ekko loved their apartment.

It had three bedrooms — one of which they used as a shared office space, with Ekko’s PC lodged in one corner and Jinx’s workbench in the other. Their shared artwork was sprawled across each wall, glued to the windows.

Their kitchen was tight — the wooden island at the middle making for it to feel even tighter than it had to be — with checkered black-and-white tiles, chipped from age and heavy footing.

Jinx insisted Ekko keep the master — he paid more in rent, anyway — and she preferred the smaller room with the bigger window; it let in more light.

“Look, if I don’t have the goddamn sun piercing through my eyelids, I’ll sleep in all day.”

Jinx wasn’t exactly the kind of person who slept often, but when sleep came it came hard, holding her down while it did.

Where she slept was a different story altogether. Ekko would often find her on the couch, slung across her desk, curled into herself on the ends of her own bed like a cat. Once, he’d found her on the floor of the bathroom with her toothbrush still half-wedged in her mouth.

To be fair, that time she’d been drunk.

Despite her weary sleep schedule, by three in the morning she was usually knocked out.

Usually.

Even before unlocking the door, Ekko heard the TV’s hum. All the lights were still on; orange leaked beneath the door and into the outside hallway.

Inside, Jinx was hunched into herself on the couch with a tub of ice cream between her legs. She caught sight of him quick, waving him over with a spoon still coated in bubble-gum pink.

“Let me guess.” Ekko moved to hang his jacket on the coatrack. He’d already showered and changed into his sweats at work, so when he fell onto the couch right by her, he did it without guilt. “Your dinner sucked?”

Jinx scoffed. “‘Sucked’ is a pathetic excuse of a word.”

“Yeah?” She held her spoon up to him, balled-up with ice cream, urging him to taste. “What’s a better word for it, then?”

“There are no English words terrible enough.” She plucked her spoon back from him, and the playful look on her face melted into something dull and muddled.

Slowly, she turned to look at him. “They’re engaged.”

Oh. That was rough. Jinx hated Vi’s girlfriend — fiancée, now, he supposed. He wasn’t fond of her either; she was different from the three of them, sure, but Vi had never been happier, and that had to count for something.

If Vi loved her so much, she couldn’t be so bad — he’d tried to tell Jinx once, but she wouldn’t hear it. So, he let her laugh — let her confide in him — let her drag him to their meetings.

He didn’t mind it, really. It was still time together. And honestly, Jinx was a little too good at imitating her accent.

“Huh,” Ekko muttered. “Didn’t take Vi as the married type.”

“Me neither,” Jinx mumbled. Her voice was a mere lull. “But people…they change. They go.”

Jinx’s face contorted — her features loosening — and her eyes held that faraway look from when she was remembering something, dwelling.

She got like this sometimes — lost in her head, lost in herself — she could stay like this for days, ruminating, disassociated. Ekko swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Hey.” He reached across to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, drawing close. “Aren’t I the same?”

Amidst her haze, Jinx blinked up at him. “Insufferably so.”

Ekko laughed against the top of her head. Good; she wasn’t fully out of it.

“See. I’ll always be here to bother you.”

Jinx nuzzled her nose against his neck before pulling away, and Ekko’s breath hitched at the feeling — she was always so cold; how was it that she was always so cold? Even now, draped and piled in blankets, Vander’s old hoodie swallowing her whole.

She looked like she was going to make another joke — mock Cait, probably — but drew herself back at the last second. Her brows pinched, and the fog she’d been lost in thawed from her eyes completely. Instead, her gaze on him hardened.

“Something’s bothering you.” Jinx poked at his cheek with her thin, painted nail. It scratched.

“It’s nothing.” Ekko shrugged. She was already upset enough from her dinner. He didn’t need his night to worsen it. “Just work crap.”

“It’s not nothing.” Jinx patted at his cheek. “I can tell. C’mon, spill the beans, Boy Savior.”

(She’d started calling him that in college after saving everyone’s asses before the psych exam — he’d given out his notes, knowing damn well he shouldn’t have. Then he did it again when he and Jinx took more electives together, this time only for her.

And of course, there was the underlying matter that he was a nurse.)

Jinx was looking at him with those blue eyes, expecting. For a second, he considered lying — making something up.

But he couldn’t help dwell on the image of the girl — her wordless murmur, her wild eyes. The hospital could get creepy at this time of night, especially for a kid — the hallways less huddled with nurses, each room flooded by an empty teem of static.

Besides, if anyone knew the system, it was Jinx. She’d barrelled from home to home after Vander — while Vi rotted in juvie — before eventually settling into a few different group homes for girls.

“There was this foster kid who came in tonight,” Ekko said. “She was running away from her place; fell off a ledge and broke her arm. She has a concussion, too.”

 “Ouch.” Jinx tugged at the empty pint of ice cream and hugged it close to her chest like some makeshift teddy-bear. “Can’t blame her — system sucks. Play-pretend parents suck even more.”

“She just — she looked at me with those big owl eyes and I felt my heart break. She didn’t even cry. Mel was poking at her broken arm and everything.”

Jinx smirked — her eyes were earnest. “Strong kid.”

“You don’t even know the half of it.” Ekko groaned. “She didn’t have anything of her own — not with her, at least. They left her with some ancient bear.”

Jinx’s brows hardened at that — something angry sobering up inside her. Then she paused, like she remembered where she was. She drew her knuckles to his face, tickling.

“Hey, at least you’re there to help.” She said it like she was making a joke, but he knew she meant it for real — she just sucked at being sappy. “You’re pretty good at helping.”

Boy Savior.

But what a help he was. Bring her meals, pour her glasses of water. Then let her fall back into a system that would drown her — push her down until she had to make another run for it. What bones would she break next, trying to get away? How many more bites?

The thought made his stomachache. He didn’t feel like any help at all.

But Jinx was trying, and he wouldn’t make it worse.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I guess.”

They stayed like that for a while, with Jinx’s fingers at his skin while she fiddled with the spoon that sank into the empty pint. The TV was still on — some late-night cartoon that always gave Ekko the creeps — and together they pretended to watch it, knowing each of their minds were settled elsewhere.

Eventually, Jinx stumbled into reality. She yawned and pinched at Ekko’s cheek before standing.

“Gonna hit the hay. Dream of big ol’ dirty diamonds and bloody weddings.” She hurled the pint into the garbage bin and stretched out her arms. Shooting him a look she said, “and sad orphans, too, I guess.”

Ekko huffed a laugh. “’Night, Powder.”

He hardly caught it, but for a second her face flinched, though Ekko wasn’t sure why — he’d usually alternate between Powder and Jinx without second thought — but the name seemed to draw on something obscuring tonight.

He almost felt like apologizing, but she was already halfway to her room. “’Night.”

Later — much later — after he’d scoffed down some cereal and washed his face, he found it in him to lie down. His head hit the pillow that night, cool and firm.

That exhaustion whirred on, but sleep couldn’t find him. Something in him — something inherent and innate; something that always tied back to her — told him that somewhere down the hall, Jinx was succumbing to the same fate.

Chapter Text

She was halfway down the cereal aisle — her cart tucked right between Lucky Charms and Cheerios — when Vi gave her a call.

She’d gone on a quick rant. They were on FaceTime, so Jinx could see the way Vi’s face twisted and spiralled at every upset.

Something about Jayce wanting to renovate the whole shop from start to bottom — and something about how they could hardly afford any of it. The shop was still relatively new. They’d only started renting last year, and the whole franchise was off to a slow start.

But Jayce had a vision, Vi had said. Really, Jinx just hoped that vision was any good. Jayce had visions and big dreams since high school, most of which never worked out.

Jinx took a turn towards the frozen aisle, shucking three pints of ice cream into her cart with one hand. She was balancing her phone against the cart’s handle with her other, so Vi still had a look at her face — or neck, really.

“Why don’t you ask your wife for the funds. Lord knows she’s got ‘em.”

“Fiancée,” Vi corrected. “And I’m not just going to ask like that. I’m a grown woman. I can hold my own.”

“You’ve got more self-respect than I would, let me tell you.”

Vi mustered a laugh and dropped her phone to the counter so all Jinx saw was ceiling. She was making a sandwich.

“So, whatcha you up to on your little day off?”

“Roaming Target.” Jinx made another turn and dropped a bottle of sangria into her cart. “I’m on grocery duty this week.”

“Ekko lets you do that?” Vi sounded incredulous.

Jinx huffed, offended. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know — probably ‘cause you live off ramen noodles and boxed mac and cheese.” Vi poked her finger at the camera like she could prod Jinx through the phone. “Do you even know the difference between iceberg and romaine?”

“Of course, I do.” She didn’t. Who cared? Leafy greens were leafy greens — and it wasn’t like she ever ate those anyway. (Except for sometimes, when Ekko made that salad she liked with heaps of peanut butter dressing.) “Anyway, don’t tell me you just called to complain about Jayce. I already know how annoying he is.”

“Actually, you caught me.” Vi picked her phone up. Her cheeks were a little flushed — like she was embarrassed. “I was wondering if you wanted to come shopping with me…soon?”

Shopping? With Vi? Jesus Christ, Cait had done damage in the past three years, sure — changed her sister in ways Jinx hadn’t thought possible — but asking to go out shopping?

She hadn’t even asked for that when they were teenagers — not when girls at school raved about shopping with their sisters. Jinx, feeling robbed somehow, only had to settle for the occasional thrift when Vi’s clothes grew too worn to wear again. Vi would be miserable the whole time through.

Jinx frowned into the camera. “What for?”

“Just a getup.” Vi took a breath. “For the wedding.”

Oh. Right. The wedding. Which, to Jinx’s knowledge, had no date yet — though Vi had told Jinx all about Cait’s plans for an August wedding. Something by the beach, maybe — which was fitting. Jinx hated the beach almost as much as she hated Caitlyn.

Jinx reached for a can of tomatoes. “You’ve got no one else to drag with you?”

On the cracked screen of her phone, Vi’s face fell. “I mean, I guess I could ask —”

“I’m kiddin’!” Jinx snorted. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let you go with Jayce. He’d make you look like a tool at your own wedding.”

The relief on Vi’s face was palpable, and Jinx almost felt guilty for having worried her at all. She didn’t want to think of anything that had to do with Vi and Cait’s wedding, but maybe she could pretend, somehow, that Vi was marrying anyone else.

Maybe then it would work.

Vi smiled right at her, that scar on her lip splitting at the curl of her mouth. “Thank you.”

Jinx couldn’t help the smirk that crept up on her. “Alright, let me be.”

“Only if you promise you’ll buy at least one fruit or vegetable.”

“You ask too much of me.”

Once they hung up, Jinx shot a look down into her cart. Sliced bread, chicken breasts, chips, tomatoes, sangria, ice cream, cereal. A few pasta boxes, too, and a bottle of olive oil because they’d been running out. Frozen meals, granola bars, boxed ramen and, tucked away in a corner, a fresh bag of avocadoes.

That would do, Jinx figured.

She was making her way towards the registers when she saw it — the toy bunny. It was tucked at the centre of some half-off shelf, practically glowing, calling out for her.

This was Ekko’s fault. He was always whining now.

It had only been four days, but Ekko was still droning about the kid — Isha — and her sad life, and her broken arm, and her non-existent family. He came home from work, every time, looking like a kicked puppy.

At first, she’d thought it was only Ekko’s savior complex growing out of whack — doubling over, maybe, because he found someone who reminded him of himself as a kid.

(Herself, too, maybe. Though she wouldn’t admit that aloud.)

But no — he seemed to genuinely care for the kid. Wanted what was best for her. Jinx joked; pestered him about having favourites. 

“She’s got no one else,” he’d said. “So I gotta put more effort in with this one.”

The bunny was a patterned baby blue — soft, short fur — with a darker blue nose webbed with thick, twined fabric at the center of its little face.

So no, it wasn’t her own doing. It was Ekko’s. His voice, his constant reminder — that was what made her do this. This wasn’t an act of kindness. Just an act of compliance.

She reached for the tag and sighed. The thing was only eight bucks.

Fuck it. Jinx threw the bunny down into her cart. Maybe Ekko would shut up now.

--

She stumbled home by sunset, just an hour before Ekko’s night shift started, and found him packing his lunchbox. He was already fully dressed in scrubs, which always made him look older, somehow. Certified — serious.

Jinx dropped the groceries down onto the kitchen counter by Ekko’s elbow. He was cutting a carrot into choppy pieces and lodging them into a container. 

She burrowed her chin against his arm, burrowing. “Guess what?”

Ekko strained a brow at her. A smile toyed at his mouth. “You bought something healthy for once?”

“I did!” She reached for the avocados in her bag. She only got these for the guacamole Ekko liked to make. And the avocado toast she sometimes made — only when she was feeling fancy. “Are you proud of me?”

“I would be,” Ekko laughed, reaching in for the rest of her junk, “if you hadn’t bought the rest of this crap.”

“Don’t get greedy, now.”

She helped him unload the rest of the groceries, tossing him a granola bar for his lunchbox, and found at the very bottom of the bag that stupid bunny.

Jinx reached down for it and swallowed, hoping Ekko wouldn’t make this a bigger deal than it had to be.

“Oh, and here.” Jinx awkwardly dropped the bunny onto the cleanest corner of their counter. It slapped down with a thud. “Give Isha this.”

Ekko paused. His face contorted — he drew himself towards the counter. He plucked the bear into his hands and stared down at it like it would do something crazy — like it would spin around and fly away.

“Quit looking like that,” Jinx pressed. “It’s not magic.”

Ekko looked up at her. His eyes were bright in a way she’d never seen, and the sight sent the strangest shiver down her spine. “You bought her this?”

“Just saw it at Target.” Jinx turned away from him, absently fiddling with an empty coffee pod. Vi and Cait got them a Nespresso machine at Christmas last year. As much as Jinx hated Cait, the woman sure was good at gifts. “Don’t think I’m sappy. The thing was on sale, and I couldn’t take your whining about her being so poor.”

For a minute, she thought he’d just left. But then his arms twined around her shoulders from behind — his breath hot at her bare collarbone — and her breath hitched.

Slowly, she planted a hand against his forearm. “Don’t make a show of it, Boy Savior. I just did it so you’d quit crying about her owning nothing special.”

“Sure,” Ekko whispered. He dropped a kiss at her cheek before pulling away. Her whole face warmed up, as if brushed by flames. What the hell was that about?

A laugh sounded out. “I’ll let Isha know she’s got a friend from far away.”

Jinx twirled around to look at him. He was packing the rest of his work bag. “No way!”

Ekko seemed confused. “But Jinx —"

“No! Let her think you did it. C’mon, it’ll do good for that savior complex.”

Ekko gave her an uncertain look, but Jinx persisted, and eventually he had to give in.

After packing the rest of his bag, Ekko left a whole forty-five minutes earlier than he had to.

They lived ten minutes away from the hospital, and Jinx never understood his urgency for getting places so early. He was a nightmare to go to the theatre with. Jinx hated the previews — Ekko wanted to be extra early for them.

She settled on the couch, turning the TV on and tucking a blanket over herself when she saw it — again — right out of the corner of her eye.

Slowly, she turned her head. They had an open concept apartment, mostly — their kitchen dragged straight down into their living room, separated only by a thin slab of wood and tile.

There, on the counter, the bunny sat. Its beady eyes stared right into Jinx’s, mocking her. Laughing. She could swear she saw its tiny mouth curl up.

Maybe Ekko was right to gawk —maybe the damn thing was magic.

Fuck.

—

“Can you please come bring it.”

“Can’t you give it to her tomorrow?” On the other line, Ekko caught the harsh clash of metal clanging. Jinx was making something — making something loud — in the way she would when trying to unwind.

“You know tomorrow is my day off.” Ekko shot a look down into Isha’s room from where he stood in the hallway. She was using a brush to try and tame the matted curls off the head of that old stuffed bear.

 “Jinx, please — I told Isha I had something for her and looked stupid as hell when I realized I hadn’t packed it.”

Jinx laughed — he knew she’d appreciate the visual of him looking ridiculous.

“Please. The kid’s bored out of her mind. It’s a ten-minute bus ride, you can come in quick and go back right after.”

Then he cringed at the sound of something screeching. Something clanging. Then silence. If it weren’t for Jinx’s piercing breath, he would’ve thought she’d hung up.

“Fine.” The irritation in her voice was palpable. “Fine! But you owe me.”

“Milkshakes — tomorrow,” he pled. She never turned down milkshakes. “Promise.”

“Fuck,” Jinx groaned. “Why do you know all my weaknesses?”

He filed paperwork by the reception while he waited — blood work and test results — and before he knew it, the elevator chimed, and Jinx stumbled out. She was wearing her same old jean jacket — the one with brown fur at its collar.  Her hair was even more blue, somehow, beneath the bleached lights of the hospital.

Ekko looked down at her hands and smiled.

“Here I am.” She held the bunny up by one floppy ear and waved it around like a napkin. Across the hallway, Claggor was staring with puzzled eyes. At least it was late, and there were hardly any parents around. “Your big fat hero.”

“Shit, don’t break it!”

“I bought it,” Jinx grumbled. “I can do whatever I want.”

Ekko tried to answer, but a buzzing sprung out from his monitor. His emergency alarm. He shot a look down at it. Room 117.

“Crap, hold on!”

He scampered down the hallway, Jinx trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

“Ekko, what — where are we going? You said go and come back!”

He made a turn for Isha’s room and found her face scrunched up in pain — the bear abandoned at her side — while she clutched her broken arm to her chest like the first time he’d ever seen her.

He barrelled towards her side, pulling at his stethoscope like it could be of use.

“Is it your arm?”

Isha nodded, whimpering. She made a clawing motion with her other hand and crumpled her nose.

“You were itchy, I bet?”

Another nod. Her arm must’ve shifted within the confines of the cast when she’d tried to scratch at herself — but he was sure it was nothing serious — it was hard to worsen a broken arm when it was already halfway healed.

He shot a look at her arm and saw no swelling beneath the fiberglass.

“You’re fine,” Ekko assured. “Just ask for help next time, ‘kay?”

Isha didn’t motion her acknowledgement in the way she usually would — didn’t seem to hear him at all, really. Instead, her eyes trailed by the doorway, wide and curious in a way he’d never seen them before.

He shot a glance across his shoulder to find Jinx standing there, swaying in the threshold with the bunny still clutched in both palms. She looked smaller, somehow, when she was soundless.

Her face was drained with something that looked almost like worry, and Ekko blinked over at her for a while before realizing the three of them were loitering in silence.

“Um.” Ekko waved a hand for Jinx to get close. “Isha — this is my friend. Jinx.”

Jinx floundered by the doorway, and Ekko had to beckon her forward with the stubborn tilt of his head.

That seemed to ignite something in her, because whatever haze she’d been struck in she snapped out of — she wandered over by him with her usual stride, her brows high and her lips quirked.

“Heard you needed a hero.”

She was getting too close — Ekko almost let out a warning of Isha’s biting habits — but the girl did nothing. No barred teeth, no throaty growl of threat. She just stared up at Jinx — at the bunny — with those broadened, probing eyes.

Ekko could swear he almost saw something else — wonder, was it? Astonishment?

Jinx plopped the Bunny down into Isha’s lap, hardly careful with how close it flopped by her broken arm, and Ekko almost sucked in a breath. The thing was dense and heavy and could’ve almost done damage.

Isha used her good hand to cradle at the back of the bunny’s head.

The old bear Mel gave her was a forgotten thing now — a useless thing in comparison to this shiny, new bunny with its chalky blue nose.

Clutching at the bunny’s ear, Isha looked up at Jinx again. She was measuring her up — up then down then back up again — like she’d done with Ekko when they first met. Her eyes, though, seemed to trail onto Jinx’s long, blue braids. They fell to her waist, and Isha seemed stricken by the sight.

Decidedly, she looked up at Jinx and let out the smallest, tiniest ghost of a smile.

Jinx winked back. “Glad ya like it, kid.”

She turned to face Ekko, decidedly finished. “Alright, my timer’s up on playing Santa.”

She was giving him a tap on his shoulder, moving to leave when a fretful wail sounded out. Isha had sat up whippingly quick.

Jinx paused at the noise, and Ekko tugged loosely at her arm. “I think she wants you to stay. Just for a little.”

“Seriously?” Jinx’s mouth was tugged up with repulsion. “Ekko, I’m not —”

She shot a look down at Isha, and the girl was practically half out of the hospital bed, like she’d chase Jinx down if she left.

Ekko gave her a pleading look. Begrudgingly, Jinx’s face fell.

“Fine, five minutes.” Her shoulders drooped. “We can give the toy a name — then I’m outta here, got it?”

Isha nodded hastily, lying back down and motioning for Jinx to sit at the chair by her bedside table. The chair that stayed untouched, really — layered over by dust — if it weren’t for Sky’s occasional, quick visits.

Reluctantly, Jinx sat. Isha stared at her with eager eyes. “Well, the bunny looks like a girl, don’t you think?”

--

Jinx ended up staying the entirety of Ekko’s shift. Isha couldn’t settle on any of the names Jinx suggested, and Jinx had to pull Google up to help her once she ran out of ideas.

He knew the kid was only buying time, though, because soon enough sleep pulled her under — Jinx’s bunny tucked snugly at her arm.

On the bus ride home, Ekko hardly knew how to start the conversation with Jinx. He opened his mouth to speak, but when he did, Jinx cut him off quick.

“We’re not speaking of it.”

“But, that was —”

“We’re not.” She shook a finger at him, plopping it down at his thigh. “No words.”

And no words there were. They stumbled home and both went to bed without speaking, but Ekko caught small glimpses of her smiling to herself —glimpses of his own smile, too, through his reflection in the mirror, the microwave, the blackened TV screen.

It was only the next day, tucked away in a diner booth, that either of them spoke of it. A waiter came over with milkshakes and Jinx licked at the whipped cream on the very top of hers.

“She liked you.” Ekko didn’t have to specify who. Isha hung thickly between them, a flower sprouting from concrete — the elephant in the room.

Jinx shrugged sheepishly. “I came and brought her a toy. I was basically Santa, okay — and what kid doesn’t like Santa?”

“Mel brought her one too. And she still tried to bite her.” Ekko plucked the candied cherry off her milkshake. She didn’t like those. “That’s never happened before.”

“But mine was new. Like Santa.”

Despite her tone, there was a small smile on her mouth — she was trying to hide it, Ekko could tell, from the way she ducked her head low.

“Maybe you could come back and see her again — just for a minute or two, at the start of my shifts.”

“No way. I’m one and done.” Jinx waved a stubborn hand at him. “You’re not supposed to feed the strays. That’s how they come back.”

Ekko snorted. “Don’t call her that.”

“What? We were once strays, too, remember? Then Vander fed me, and Benzo fed you, and the rest is history.”

“I don’t like your little analogies,” Ekko drilled. He tried to sound serious, but a smile was tugging at his lips. Jinx often liked to make things sound like troubled folklore. “They’re not very hopeful.”

Jinx laughed — the sound hoarse and throaty. “That’s only ‘cause you know how they end.”

Ekko reached for his milkshake and took a quick sip. Jinx was getting that faraway look in her eyes that made his stomach feel queasy. Lazily, she dropped her chin against the table and Ekko had to pluck it up with his fingers — God knew how many times they washed these things.

“I don’t know how it ends for Isha,” Ekko insisted. He wanted to ground her to the present, and Isha was his anchor for it. “She needs good company while I can manage it.”

“She has you.” Jinx reached to poke at his nose, leaving a trail of whipped cream at the bridge of it. “You’re the best of companies.”

Ekko wasn’t sure why, but the compliment almost made him feel flustered. She’d joked like this a million times before and he’d never felt this way before. He pushed the feeling down.

“But she liked you. You saw it. And you guys never settled on a name for her bunny.”

But Jinx wouldn’t budge on it.

“For the record, this is why you should’ve given her that bunny.” Jinx twirled at her straw before poking Ekko with it. “And for the love of God, let her name it herself. You’ll only call it something stupid.”

--

The next few days at work, Isha kept asking for Jinx.

The first time she'd asked was on his first day back. He was taking Isha’s vitals when she’d pointed at the bunny, then at the hair that stuck up from her head.

Her eyes were bold and swimming with eager hope.  Blue. Blue hair.

Ekko pieced it together quickly enough. “You’re asking about my friend?”

Isha nodded fervently, then pointed to herself. Pointed at the room. She wanted to know when Jinx was coming back.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“She’s uh — she’s really busy with work right now. I don’t think she’ll be back today. I’m sorry.”

It was like he’d dropped the heaviest boulder on the whole of her. Her face crumpled, and she sank down into her mattress like she wanted it to swallow her up. She clutched the bunny to her chest, her grip so tight he caught her knuckles whitening from the pressure.

God, he was so mad at Jinx.

No — no. That wasn’t fair.

He was mad at the world — mad that this kid had to cling to strangers for company; cling to someone like Jinx, who she’d only met once.

She deserved a family. Real parents. And her time at the hospital was running short. Mel had dragged Isha’s stay out an extra week after Sky’s pleas for more time to find the girl a suitable home, but still the woman seemed to flounder. 

Still, despite her crushed hope, Isha still asked for Jinx. Every day she’d point at the bunny, then her hair, then shrug. And every day she’d look less hopeful when Ekko offered a half-baked excuse. Jinx was working. Jinx was with her sister. Jinx was out shopping.

One evening, for the first time in days, he finally spotted Sky. She was looking at Isha’s new bunny with quizzical eyes, like she hadn’t understood where it came from.

He dragged the woman aside, where Isha couldn’t hear them. In bed, the girl looked flattened, and Ekko prayed it wasn’t still because of Jinx’s lack of show.

“Any news on placements?”

Sky drew a shaky hand to the bridge of her glasses, tucking them up her nose. “I — I’m sorry, Ekko. I know you care a lot about her, but I’m afraid we’ll have to place her in a group home.”

“What?” Ekko was sure he hadn’t heard right.  “But she’s only seven.”

Most kids didn’t get sent to group homes ‘til they were twelve, at the very least. They required way more independence — chores and things that only older kids knew how to handle.

“I know,” Sky pressed. “But these are desperate times. The state has double the number of foster kids than it does foster parents — there is nothing I can do. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Anger fuelled inside him — hot and all-consuming. This wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right.

Then his brain short-circuited — an idea swimming deep, deep down in the shallows of his mind — and the anger simmered.

Maybe there was nothing Sky could do — but he could. He could.

--

He’d never been more grateful for the day shift. He liked his nights, most of the time. Liked their quietness. But the day shift had perks, too. Perks like this.

It meant clocking out by five o’clock in the evening — not the morning — and tumbling out of the hospital with the sun still bright, basking low over the city.

And it meant he still had time for daylight errands. All kinds of errands.

Which was how he found himself now, on the forty-fourth floor of this San Francisco skyscraper. In the waiting room office of West Pacific Law & Co.

He didn’t want to waste any time. He’d been in foster care for most of his child, but never on the opposing side of it. He didn’t know the legal process — what it meant to become a parent.

He’d admittedly Googled it, but the internet was peppered with bits and pieces of misinformation. No one website said the same thing. Reddit was an even bigger mess, with people over or under-explaining, contradicting one another, telling each other off.

He’d tried to ask Sky, but by the time his shift had ended she’d already disappeared from the hospital. She wasn’t answering any of his calls either, and — like he always did — he felt scared of running out of time.

Isha would be stuck in a group home for God knows how long if he didn’t show interest — serious interest — soon enough.

He had to stay ahead. And this — this unfortunate idea — was the speediest and best thing he could think of.

Only, if Jinx knew where he was, she’d probably never speak to him again.

An office door swung open — the click-clack of heels met his ears — and Caitlyn Kiramman strode out of the hallway and into the waiting room lobby. She didn’t shoot him a glance at first, too busy scouring through a file in her hands.

The receptionist had to clear her throat. “There’s someone here for you, Attorney Kiramman.”

Cait looked up from her hands and stifled a gasp.

“Oh.” Her face pinched, brows locking. “Ekko?”

He drew his hands into his pockets, standing from his seat. “Hi.”

She was trying to subdue the confusion from her face, he could tell. But just when she’d stirred her head to try and shake herself off, that same bewilderment pierced through. “How’d you find my office?”

Ekko flushed. “It’s, uh — it’s on your LinkedIn.”

“Right — well, I suppose I can slot you in before my meeting. Come along.”

For a split second, all Ekko caught was the city’s skyline — coloured homes on streets that drooped and winded and rose. The setting sun a mere cusp between the gaps, blazing muffled orange onto everything. Then eventually, he spotted Cait’s glass-top desk. The bookshelves that clung along each mirrored wall. Her degree, perched up on a shelf strung with awards and medals and finally, a framed photo of Vi.

Caitlyn sat at her desk, beckoning him forward. “Please, sit.”

He did, and the corduroy chair consumed him; comfy and cushiony and pearly white. He slotted his arms against the rests, hoping he looked more adult than he felt.

“Tell me, Ekko, how can I help you?” Caitlyn always looked poise, but the face she wore now was a greater extension of that — something even more high-strung, something wholly professional.

Right now, she wasn’t Vi’s fiancée — wasn’t a woman he’d met at dinners and parties. Right now, she was Caitlyn Kiramman, prosperous corporate lawyer. And she looked just about ready for business.

Believed I had a savior complex.

“I —” He wasn’t sure how to start. Eventually, he settled on something vital. “You can’t tell Vi that I came to you. She’ll tell Powder and —"

Cait shook her head, planting a hand on her desk. Her diamond band let out a clank.

“This is strictly confidential.” Her tone, though stern, was oddly assuring. “I’m a professional woman, Ekko — I have a reputation. I’d never put that at risk — or any of my clients, for that matter. Including you.”

Ekko nodded. While she was admittedly somewhat of a snob, she knew what she was doing — and he knew he’d get her most honest, solicited advice.

So he sprung it on her like it was. “I want a foster licence.”

He delved into the story — told her of Isha — admittedly, even, told her more of his own past than he’d like to have admitted. Things about group homes, about Benzo. He avoided anything about Jinx, knowing she’d never, never forgive him for spilling any of it.

Besides, that wasn’t his story to tell.

By the end of it, Cait was staring at him with her arms tight across her chest. Her serious face had not broken. She’d stayed somehow entirely professional — still and durable — for the entirety of his speech. And for that he was grateful.

Eventually, she opened her fraught mouth to speak.

“This is a costly process. A difficult process, at that.”

Ekko held a hand up. “I know — believe me. But I’m ready for it.”

Cait leaned forward, dropping her elbows to her desk to hold herself upright. “Ekko, we’re potentially talking about weeks if not months of interruption. Check-ups, classes — not to mention the responsibility —”

“I know —"

 “—And Jinx.” Ekko froze. She said her name like it was some kind of curse. “You live together, so naturally she will be brought into this. And I know you care for her, but you must admit it. She’s not…fit.”

Ekko hardened. His bones felt hot. Suddenly, all respect he’d recently held for Caitlyn vanished. She didn’t know Powder — didn’t know her heart. Didn’t know her life. She knew Vi — but that wasn’t the same.

Sure, Jinx could be reckless. She could be impulsive. She could be crude and brash. But when she loved she loved whole — entirely, with all of her. Maybe someone like Cait just wouldn’t get that. Couldn’t get her.

“And how would you know that?” Ekko felt the words slip from his mouth before he could stop them. “You — you don’t know her.”

Caitlyn let out a breath. That resolve — as stern as it once seemed — was breaching.

“You’re right. I don’t. At least, not like you do — not like Vi does.” Cait flattened her hands down against her lap. “But from what I’ve seen — as an attorney, not as a sister-in-law — I cannot lie to you and say I think she’d be a suitable parent.”

“Have you considered that she only acts a certain way around you,” Ekko started, “because she doesn’t like you.”

 And then — like the sudden pop of a balloon — it all busted. Caitlyn’s stubborn tenacity completely shattered. Her lip twisted to an edgy snarl.

“Really, Ekko, that is the only thing I’ve ever considered when thinking of her!”

The air between them was charged with tension. Caitlyn’s heaving breaths and Ekko’s quickened heartbeat.  He watched sullenly as Cait drew her face into her hands like she could hide there — come back anew when she pulled away.

Ekko felt stupid, suddenly, for having even showed up. Jinx was right about her, he figured. Maybe he couldn’t get what Vi saw in her either.

“Look, coming here was a mistake.” Ekko sat up to leave. “I’ll deal with it myself.”

He would. He always did — always figured it out. Never was he spoon-fed, never was he helped. Not by people like Cait.

“Ekko, wait.”

He hardly wanted to turn around, but he couldn’t help it. She was standing now, still behind her desk. There was a desperation there he’d never seen before. A humanity.

“If you must do it — which I can tell you’re going to —" she heaved bitterly. “Then I’ll help you. For the girl.”

Ekko’s teeth clenched. “I don’t know if I want your help anymore.”

Cait shook her head, insistent.

“Listen, the process is long — I can help quicken it up. If you plan on doing it, then you might as well do it fast. Even faster if you know her social worker. I can finalize it all before Christmas if you’re lucky.”

He almost rejected it. Almost turned and left without a word. But then he thought of Isha, stuck in some group home thanks to his resentment and his pride. He couldn’t do that to her.

“And you won’t tell Vi?”

“No,” Caitlyn whispered — her voice tinged, slightly, with the smallest inkling of guilt. “I won’t tell Vi.”

 ---

Over a glass of wine, Cait spent hours explaining what was to be expected.

She’d rescheduled her meeting for him — despite his insistency not to — and invited him for dinner at some hotel restaurant by Fisherman’s Wharf, where he knew Vi and Jinx never went. The place was too flooded with tourists for their liking.

While Caitlyn was a corporate lawyer, she still had access to a realm of information he didn’t have access to.

“There’ll be an evaluation over the state of your apartment,” Cait drawled. “There must be the assurance of stable housing, stable income, stable environment. You’ll may need to go to a few parenting classes, but I’m not sure given Isha’s current circumstances.”

Cait — and Sky, now, as an additional help over the phone — deemed that Isha was in a state of emergency, making her suitable for a more desperate placement. That alone would quicken the process.

And there was, of course, the matter that she knew Ekko — liked Ekko. Liked Jinx even more, he was sure. And Cait had assured that yes, that mattered and yes, that would benefit them.

Cait bit at her manicured nail. “Her parents — they’re alive?”

“Her mom’s dead — dad’s nowhere to be found. She’s got an uncle listed as family, but Sky said he’s not suited to raise her.”

“That’s good —” Cait shook her head quickly, like she’d realized her words. “Well, not good, good. But good for you, in the long run — for the adoption process.”

Ekko nearly spat out his wine. “Adoption?”

Caitlyn stared at him blankly, like she’d only stated the obvious. “Is that not the goal here?”

“No — I mean, I don’t know.” He felt himself floundering. He hadn’t thought that far. “This is… for a little while. For now. Just until…she finds someone better. A real family.”

“I see.” Caitlyn was looking at him like she hadn’t believed a word from his mouth. “So, we’re doing all this…for a little while?”

Ekko tried to respond, but his mouth couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Never mind.” Cait waved a hand and reached for her glass; she shot down one last slug of wine. “Regardless, if all goes well, you and Jinx should be licenced foster parents in less than six weeks’ time.”

If he got Jinx to agree, that was. But she would. She had to.

Later, Ekko paid the bill — Cait tried to insist otherwise, but their waiter was an older man who must’ve assumed this was some kind of date, and let Ekko sneak the payment while Cait was scouring through her purse to find her card.

She didn’t seem to appreciate it, but she huffed a thanks anyway and offered him a ride home.

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “Jinx’ll be home and I’d rather she doesn't spot me pulling up in your car.”

“Fair enough.” Cait reached to shake his hand — it was strangely professional, despite how long they’d known each other and regardless of what they’d just been discussing. Ekko thought this must’ve been the first ever time they’d done it, too.

Just as she turned to leave, Ekko called out for her.

“Caitlyn.” He paused and scuffed in a breath of cold, November air. “Thank you. For your help.”

“Yes, well,” Cait shrugged, “it’s what family does, I suppose.”

Family. The word took him aback. He wasn’t sure why — Vi and Jinx were as good as family could be. He just hadn’t thought that Caitlyn was in the equation.

But he guessed now, with the fiancée thing — and in some non-conventional way ­— that’s exactly what they were.

He cleared his throat.

“Congrats, by the way. On the engagement. Sorry, I didn’t bring a gift or anything.”

“That’s alright.” She offered him a smile ­­— earnest and warm — and Ekko was so sure he’d never seen that kind of smile from her until now. “Congratulations can go quite a long way.”

--

“Where the hell were you?”

Ekko ignored the anxiety pounding at his chest. Jinx was in the kitchen snatching a bowl of noodles into the microwave.

“Claggor wanted to get food after work — couldn’t say no.” He felt bad for lying, but he’d make it up to her somehow.

“Well, you’re late.”

Ekko dropped his bag against the floor, right by the coffee table. “What for?”

“New season of Love is Blind.” She reached for his arm and pulled him onto the couch, slinging her legs across his lap before perking up. “Ou — let’s wear blindfolds and see how good we are at guessing which contestant is ugliest!”

“Sure.” Ekko laughed and dropped a hand against her thigh, absently stroking at bare skin. Jinx threw a blanket across the both of them. This was routine. “But later. I…I have to tell you something first.”

“Last time someone used those words on me I was told about a real lame engagement.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “You trynna put a ring on it, pretty boy?”

Ekko flushed. Really, this was almost worse than that — it felt like they were young again, and he was asking her to play house.

There was no true, good way of starting, so he just sprung it on her.

“We should foster Isha.”

Jinx blinked.

“Yeah, sure.” She’d said it so genuinely he almost thought it was going to be this easy. “And then we should move to the Italian countryside and buy goats and sheep and a farm. I’ll open a TikTok channel and make tradwife content.”

“Jinx.”

She shot her legs off his lap and forced herself upright. The look on her face was bordering on irreverent.

“Ekko, have you lost your mind — do you know how far gone you are, Boy Savior, for me to be asking you that?”

He held his hands up in defence. She wasn’t getting it.

“They want to ship her off to a group home.” At that, her face fell. Her shoulder shrunk and she flattened down into the cushions, sinking into herself. “You know what happens at those — only one kid in ten ever really gets out of there.”

“But…She’s seven?”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Amongst Ekko’s heaving breaths, there was a gravid hum of static that blanketed the room. From beneath the blanket, Ekko could tell that Jinx was picking at the skin of her nails. She’d done it since college — a nervous tick.

Usually, he’d draw her hands into his, but he wasn’t sure she wanted to be touched by him at all right now.

Eventually, Jinx spoke up.

“Ekko.” Her face was drawn with incredibility — with worry. “We just turned twenty-four. Even if we wanted to, they’d never licence us.”

“No, look, I thought so, too. Then I spoke to Sky —”

She rolled her eyes back into her head. “Ekko.”

“Listen.” He was practically pleading. “It’s possible. We both have jobs. We have an extra room. There are tons of schools in our neighborhood. And best of all, she likes us. Likes you — you saw the way she looked at you!”

“Ekko, I’m not — I can’t.” She was practically shaking beneath the blanket. “I don’t know how.”

How to take care of someone. How to be an adult. He knew — he felt it too. But it didn’t matter because —

“We’ll figure it out.” He flashed her a tight smile. Prayed she’d understand.  “Don’t we always.”

“This is different — this is a kid.”

“One like us — like how we used to be.”

Jinx huffed, curling further into herself. He knew she saw it; saw Powder in her. Even if she couldn’t admit it yet.

Ekko continued. “It’s not for forever — just so she’s here for Christmas — until a real family can take her in. One that’ll look after her.”

“I —” She jerked upwards. “I don’t know! This isn’t something you just decide.”

Ekko huffed. That was rich. “And since when aren’t you impulsive?!”

Jinx was looking at him with her mouth ajar, her eyes wild and raw.

She looked so young again. Looked like Powder the last time he saw her: crying in her broken home, burrowed into herself, nearly engulfed by flames.

Fuck. He hadn't meant it that way.

For a second, he swore she was going to lash out at him — let him have it. For his crazy idea, for his irrationality. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he was too far gone — that savior complex had crept up on him — two hands reaching, lurching, grabbing at him ‘til it swallowed him whole. 

Finally, when Jinx spoke, he was shocked to find her voice was gentle — eerily calm. The tone so foreign on her tongue.

“Whatever, Ekko.” She crawled up the couch and made to leave the room. "Have fun playing family.”

No. This wasn’t how it was meant to go.

“She asked for you.” It was a last, desperate attempt. He didn’t want this — this family. Not if Jinx wasn’t in it.

He couldn’t see her — she was already halfway down the hallway towards her room — but still her voice sounded out. “What?”

“She asks for you every time I see her. Looks broken-hearted every time I say you aren’t coming back. Probably won’t make a difference, but…just so you know.”

Static filled the silence, then a voice pierced through.

“Let me sleep on it.”

--

For two days, they didn’t speak of it. Didn’t speak to each other, really. Ekko worked night shifts that week anyway, which made it easier for Jinx to slip in and out of the house without having to cross him.

She buried herself in her work and fought off the shadows — fought off their persistence. They hadn’t been bad for three years, but moments like this still dragged them out of her and she often found herself pinching at her arm at work to try and be rid of them.

She hardly slept, but when she did, she dreamt of memories. Bad ones — twisted ones. Old, real things meshed with fraudulent new ones. Flames that coiled around gold, copper eyes. Vi’s screams and Vander’s groans. A blue, stuffed bunny, coated in ash and soot.

Guilt was a heavy thing — a lingering thing. And Jinx knew now not to drown it. To let it sit. To let it swallow her up.

And really, all she’d been doing the past two days was dwelling on Isha.

She knew she couldn’t be ideal — knew she couldn’t be good. But hell, her home was still better than those group ones. Better than empty promises — better than cold soup and bullies and unwashed sheets.

And Ekko — Ekko was the sun; whole, and crucial and warm. She might not be ideal, but he was. He had to be if he wanted this so badly.

He hardly looked at her now, anyway. And when he did it was like he was waiting, yearning for an answer. Yearning for her yes. (The way Vi was yearning for her approval that night.)

She was stubborn, but she loved him. And with Vi gone — whisked away by Cait in some new world — he was almost all she had left. The one thing she hadn't fucked up.

She couldn’t lose him. And she couldn’t let him down.

And really — in some deep, burrowed place within her — she knew she couldn't let Isha down either. She owed her nothing — but Ekko cared, and that meant Jinx had to, too.

(Even if, after long enough with her, she was bound to be let down anyway. She just hoped she’d be gone by then — with a better family — before Jinx had the time to jinx her. )

That night, she heard Ekko creep back home — it was four in the morning, but sleep had never found her.

She kicked off her sheets and wandered over to the kitchen. He was making a sandwich — still in his scrubs — when she crept up next to him by the counter.

He shot her a look. There were bags below his eyes that hadn’t been there last week.

Jinx swallowed a breath.

“She can’t be there when I have my episodes.”

Ekko dropped his knife. A dollop of peanut butter dirtied the counter.

When he looked back at her, a tinge of hope tainted the whole of his face. “Powder…”

Jinx crossed her arms at her chest. She’d have to persist. She could never let the kid see her that way.

“She can’t.”

“Okay,” Ekko promised. “Okay. I’ll take her out —”

“She can’t mess with my work junk —”

“She won’t.”

“And she’s not getting a damn pet.”

Ekko stared blankly down at her. “A pet?”

“Seriously,” Jinx frowned. “I used to beg Vander for one — he almost caved. But she won’t be able to take it with her when she leaves.”

“Okay."

“So, then…” Jinx mustered the tiniest of smiles. “How’s this whole legal process even start?”

There was a pause. Then a quick, swift, stumble as Ekko drew her into his arms.

He was laughing against her shoulder, arms twined between her shoulder blades, tight tight tight and close close close.

As hard as she tried not to, she couldn’t help but laugh when he spun her off her feet.

Chapter Text

Showing up at the hospital that morning was weird.

Jinx tried to drown the belief that the whole thing was some kind of brash mistake.  She’d been on edge all morning — spilled burnt coffee on the floor, spent too long in the shower. She scrubbed herself raw — scrubbed and scratched at her flesh like she could shed new skin; like she’d come out from the mist entirely rejuvenated. Ready.

Instead, all she felt was pruned and pink — a skinless chicken, waiting to be shucked into the oven. The mist from the shower made the bathroom all cloudy, and she felt too attentive to every twitch of her body. But she couldn’t slip up today. Needed her mind to behave.

Ekko had been just as much as a wreck in his own meticulous way. Neither of them owned a car — though Ekko had a licence — which left him checking the bus schedule all morning, as if the damn thing would change.

His leg bounced up and down the whole ride through, prodding at hers. She’d typically tell him to cut it out, but her own mind was a ruin, and she couldn’t let one word slip through without the fear of what else would unintentionally follow.

If it was anyone but Ekko, she’d probably have let ‘em hear it.

A woman was already waiting for them once they got there. Her hair was pinned up by a claw clip — stray strands spilling everywhere — and the blouse she wore was wrinkled and faded from use. Jinx spent too much of her childhood in foster care — she knew all too well what a social worker looked like.

Sky. Ekko’d mentioned her before.

She waved them down from where she sat in the hallway, right outside of Isha’s room. “Ekko, hi!”

Ekko reached over to shake Sky’s hand — an act so exceedingly adult that it reminded Jinx what they were even here for. Her heart tugged at itself.

Sky shot her a look. Her eyes were kind, but the exhaustion there oozed through. She flipped through an open file in her hands.

“You must be…Powder? I’m sorry, I was sure Ekko had referred to you as Jinx.”

Sky seemed a little perplexed, and Ekko cleared his throat. “Jinx is just a nickname, really.”

Jinx shot him a glare.

“Sky needs to know,” he mumbled. “It’s not like Jinx is the name on your birth certificate.”

Ugh. Right. Another reason to dread the whole legal process thing.

Jinx sighed, draping her arms across herself.

“Legally, it’s Powder.”

Sky blinked curiously. That wasn’t an uncommon reaction.

She’d spent the earliest half of her childhood wishing she could’ve had a pretty name, like Vi’s. Something normal. But Vi hadn’t liked her name either — said Violet was too girly — made everyone chop off two syllables.

Their mother had waned at Jinx’s worries by telling her that she’d named both her pretty girls after flowers — Violet and Powder Puff. Jinx had been even angrier at that. Why not Lily, or Rose, or Daisy then? No, she had to be Powder.

Mama insisted it was a pretty name — said it suited her baby’s kind, round face. But Jinx only felt that she’d set her up for years of bullying. Even Ekko — who didn’t have a very common name himself, mind you — laughed the first time he heard it. Then he caught her sullen look and shut right up.

“No — no, I like it!” He’d hurried to say. He was shorter than she was back then, but he still carried that same innate softness. “It’s different. I like different.”

Powder had smiled a small smile, even if she didn’t wholly believe him.

Jinx sometimes wondered if Mama was rolling over in her grave, knowing neither daughter went by the name she’d so carefully picked out for them.

Across from her, Sky was trying to mimic some semblance of normalcy. “Powder — now Jinx. Okay, that’s…fun!”

She looked between Jinx and Ekko, a smile growing.

“How long have you two been together?”

Jinx blanked. Ekko coughed.

“Oh — we’re just —”

“We’re not —”

Sky seemed to catch on. Her face fell. Jeez, she couldn’t catch a break.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I just assumed — given you’re going through the fostering process together and all. Most who do are coupled up.”

“We’re best friends. Roommates,” Ekko said. His face was tinged with red. “So Jinx was never a question.”

Something bubbled up in her chest. Something warm and fuzzy. She looked over at Ekko and found him staring back, his mouth wearing that half-curled smile.

“Well, I’m glad Isha will have such a bonded pair to look up to.” Sky nodded. She looked relieved to move on. “And I’m glad you guys wanted to come in and talk to her yourselves. Believe me, most don’t show this kind of effort. This counts.”

It was Ekko’s idea, of course, to come in and ask Isha if she wanted to live with them at all. Jinx hadn’t been sure — but then again, maybe Isha would get one more look at her and take her chances with a group home after all.

The thought died almost as soon as it bloomed. Once inside, Isha’s face wholly brightened at the sight of her — those tawny owl eyes snapped to her own. The bunny was at her side.

Ekko smiled. “Look who wanted to see you.”

Jinx shot a smile. “Hey, kid.”

She came close enough to prod a finger at the bunny’s tiny, woven nose. Isha flinched on instinct — her phantom smile dropping — and she tucked the droopy thing closer to her, almost like she was scared Jinx would take it away.

She didn’t fully tug away, but Jinx still drew herself back, hovering close enough to Ekko to feel the hardness of his arm through his thick, fleece sweater. Heat seeped out of him — through the material — and somehow seemed to warm the whole of her.

“How’s — Uh.” Jinx caught herself. Right. They hadn’t even given the damn toy a name yet. “How’s your little buddy doing?”

Isha looked up at her for a long while, like she was still figuring out if Jinx wanted to steal her stupid bunny. After a moment, she simply shrugged, toying with one of the bunny’s flabby ears.

Behind them, Sky cleared her throat. She plucked her glasses up from the bridge of her nose and slipped them down to her blouse.

“Isha, listen.” Sky was making her way to the opposing side of Isha’s hospital bed. “Ekko and Jinx are here to ask you something really important.”

Isha hardly shot Sky a glance. Instead, she kept her gaze on Jinx in some cautious kind of curious glare, and Jinx couldn’t help but feel ridiculous for feeling unsettled. For feeling transparent.

Isha’s eyes were so big — so prying — and Jinx almost felt like the girl was piercing through her, dissecting all her bad parts from her good ones — taking notes. But buried in that stare — way, way back — was something else. Something like awe.

Across from them, Sky motioned for Ekko to speak.

“Isha, listen — Jinx and I —” he reached over to clutch at Jinx’s shoulder, and the feeling was impossibly grounding — “we were wondering if you wanted to come stay with us. Just for a little while, ‘til Sky finds you a real good home. Somewhere permanent.”

Isha only blinked incredulously. Her lips parted, only a little, and her head tumbled to the side, like she was trying hard to understand. Like she hadn’t believed him.

She made no attempt to nod — to agree — to do or motion for anything. She only stayed still, squinting between Ekko and Jinx like they’d both turned purple.

From next to her, Ekko swallowed hard. “Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to —"

Isha shot herself upright, fervently shaking her head. Jinx was almost worried the whole thing would just snap off and roll away. Her eyes were desperate, clinging onto Ekko’s with need.

“So,” Ekko spoke softly — slowly, “you want to come live with us, then?”

She’d never seen such an enthusiastic nod — especially not from someone like Isha, who seemed so reserved. But what would she know — she’d only met the girl twice.

And now she was going to live with her. Isha wanted to live with her — well, wanted Ekko; knew Ekko. But that meant Jinx would have to take care of her, too — brush through matted knots on her head and cook her meals and tend to all potential wounds. And Jinx knew there would be wounds, because where she went wounds always followed. 

She didn’t know the first thing about raising anyone — anything.

Isha was still beaming — her face had split into this chaotic, edgy grin, and she was looking from Jinx to Ekko like she wanted to leave now — broken arm neglected, concussion forgotten.

Her happiness was so wild and childlike — so genuine — and Jinx had to bite the inside of her cheek as hard as she could. Slicing through thin, fleshy skin — the metallic taste of blood erupted on her tongue. She could feel the shadows creeping in, pouring out like black leaks from somewhere hollow inside.

No — no. This wasn’t the time for an episode. She hadn’t even had a bad one in months. But everything felt too hot beneath the bleary hospital lights — all so, so white and so, so blinding. Jinx shut her eyes.

She would ruin this, that voice was whispering, slurring. She would ruin her.

She felt a tug at her shoulder — warm fingers radiating through the coarseness of her jacket — and her eyes pierced open.

The shadows dipped back into their hole — vanishing like smoke, quick and silent — like they hadn’t creeped up at all. It must’ve only been a couple of seconds, because no one seemed to notice. 

Ekko wasn’t looking at her — he’d only tugged at her shoulder from his own excitement — and his whole face brightened like he’d been dipped in a bucket of sunlight and hauled right back out. Pride didn’t belong to her, but it would belong to him. And Ekko was good with people — always had been, even when they were kids.

A wave of reassurance washed over her — a momentary one, a dishonest one, too, maybe. The feeling that Ekko would handle this — he always handled it. Even if she couldn’t.

Ekko shot a look over at her. He was beaming. “Okay ­— okay, then it’s a go —”

Isha swung her legs across the mattress and moved to stand. Jinx had to smother a laugh. Shit, she really did want to leave now. Couldn’t even blame her. These lights, the lifeless walls, the thin hospital duvet. The whole of it would drive anyone crazy — especially after days on end. Had she even gone outside since?

Ekko motioned forwards for her, gripping Isha’s shoulders and hauling her back onto the bed. Isha was a thin, tiny thing — and yet still the cheap, old mattress groaned beneath her weight.

God, that just wouldn’t do. She’d buy the girl a better one.

“Oh, Isha — wait, no not yet.” Isha’s face fell. She was scowling at Ekko, betrayed — like he’d lied to her. Like it was all a senseless joke.

“Believe me, we want to have you with us as soon as we can.” Ekko was using a tone she’d hardly ever heard from him — extra kind and extra patient —still though, Isha pouted. “But you still have a few days left before you’re discharged — and we gotta get licenced.”

Days? But the licencing process would take weeks. Something bitter churned inside of Jinx. She snapped her head towards Sky.

“You won’t send her to a group home in the meantime, right?” Jinx dropped a hand at her hip. “’Cause then we might just have to kidnap her.”

Sky’s mouth dropped. Ekko’s brows shot upright. But Isha looked over at her — that scowl melting from her face — and for the very first time, a laugh fled from her throat. Jinx couldn’t help the smile that curled at her mouth.

Ekko turned to Sky, forcing out his own laugh. “She’s — she’s joking!”

“Right, of course.” Sky tried to laugh, too, but the discomfort was so palpable Jinx wished she’d just flat out judged her instead.

“But don’t worry,” Sky assured. She looked at Jinx and forced a smile. “Babette — she’s a sweet older woman who lives by the beach. She only takes in short-term placements and she’s willing to keep Isha right until you’re licenced.”

“Good — that’s good.” Ekko nudged Isha’s shoulder. “See, you’ll be in good hands. Then before you know it, you’ll be coming back with us.”

Isha didn’t look the tiniest bit satisfied. She’d curled back up into the corner of her bed — that bunny snuggly tucked up against her cast — and she was looking at Jinx like she would find some magic way to get her home now — like she would actually kidnap her, as long as Isha showed enough interest. 

Jinx let out a sigh. She turned to Sky.

“Can you give us a minute?”

“I…” the woman hesitated, then took one look at Isha’s sullen face and faltered. “I suppose.”

She looked at Ekko as she passed the threshold, like she was begging him to keep everything orderly.

Once Sky was out of sight, Jinx moved to sit at the opposite corner of Isha’s bed. The girl watched her closely from behind her bunny’s round, tiny head.

“Believe me, kid, I know this place sucks.”

Ekko sucked in a breath behind her.

“I know you want to get out of here as soon as you can, and I get it. But even if I did kidnap you now, you’d hate it.” Jinx kicked her shoes off and tucked herself up on the bed. Drew her legs to her chest and dropped her chin at her knees.

“Because Ekko and me — our place kinda sucks right now. And it is not ready for you. We don’t even have a bed! If you came now, you’d have to sleep on our couch.” Jinx offered an over-exaggerated gag. “And then your back would hurt for like ever, and you’d be real mad at us.”

Isha tucked her bunny closer to her chest, raising a brow.

“But this Babette lady — she’s got a bed right now. Probably some nice one too. And old ladies — they cook a lot. Really good food — so much of it. And right now, all we have is some cereal and some noodles.”

Ekko groaned behind her. “‘Because of you.”

Jinx shot him a smirk. “Shut it.”

She drew her eyes back to Isha, who’d gone back to darting her gaze between the both of them. That phantom smile was on her mouth again, and Jinx relished in the victory of it.

“But if you give us a few weeks, I promise,” Jinx crossed an X against her chest, “you’ll have the comfiest bed. And your own room. We’ll paint the walls any color you like. And good food, too. Okay?”

For a little while, Isha only stared. But halfway through her demeanour had softened, and she’d drawn her legs up to her chest, mirroring Jinx’s own position.

Then, after a beat, Isha pointed at the wall. Then her bunny. Then Jinx’s hair.

Jinx got it right away.

“You want your walls blue?”

Isha shot her the sternest of nods. Her own compromise. Her own condition.

Jinx let out a huff. How could she ever say no?

--

The following five weeks seemed to pass in ways that defied the very concept of time.

Time grew slow — stretched thin and flat. But it grew quick, too — like they were being shoved forward by some invisible hand that pushed and pushed and pushed.

Nothing was measured in hours or minutes or seconds. Life was measured in appointments. In evaluations. In classes.

And — of course — in the gradual progression of Isha’s new bedroom.

The very minute they’d gotten home from the hospital — the day they asked Isha if she wanted to come live with them — Ekko watched, stricken from the end of the hallway, as Jinx stumbled into their office and dragged her things right out. Her desk, her gadgets, her tools, her books. All of which she stuffed into some tight, empty corner of her bedroom.

“Jinx — What are you doing?”

She huffed at him, drawing a sleeve to her brow in exasperation.

“I thought you didn’t like wasting time?”

While Jinx stepped out, he dismembered his own desk. Rebuilt it by the window of his bedroom. His room wasn’t as small as Jinx’s, so it was a far better fit.

Then Jinx came home with a jug of paint in her hands. She shoved Ekko a brush and told him to get working.

Together, they painted the walls a pretty, dusty blue. It wasn’t too pale — wasn’t too dark. Something dense.

When they finished, Jinx frowned. The room was empty, save for one dull lamp with a crooked, wilted shade.

“It’s too boring.”

Ekko slung an arm across her shoulder. He planted a kiss to her head — let his lips linger. She smelled of paint and wild, winter air.

“Let’s fix it then.”

And they did. Slowly. Quickly.

Things moved in never ending succession.

There was Sky’s first evaluation. Ekko painting white and brown bunnies on the walls. Jinx hanging up fairy lights.

There were secret meetings between Ekko and Cait — meetings set to quicken the process down from months to mere weeks. (Ekko tried to dissolve the guilt — told himself he was doing it for good.)

It helped that Jinx had refused to tell Vi any of it. Though Ekko couldn’t get why. She’d have to know eventually.

“She’ll know once Isha gets here,” she’d said after stumbling home with a patterned, quilted duvet for Isha’s brand-new mattress.

Then eventually, their first mandatory parenting class, eight hours long, which Jinx tried to skip, then didn’t — then got mad when people answered questions “so fucking stupidly,” she’d said.

“Seriously. These people should be blacklisted. What kind of full-grown adult doesn’t know what an EpiPen is?”

Sky, by her second visit, said that their place was nice — said it was clean and well-kept. But she did argue — right as Jinx stuffed her mouth with a spoonful of cereal — that Isha needed warm, homemade meals. Couldn’t always eat mac and cheese and ramen — even if Jinx joked that she’d be just fine.

So Jinx started buying more vegetables — whining while she did. Cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, asparagus. Ekko promised her it’d all taste good if it was properly prepared, and Jinx shot him a curious look.

“Nothing green could ever taste good.”

And — as if time yearned to test them to their every limit — Christmas was barrelling forward way too quick. Gifts to be packed. To be bought.

But whatever — he and Jinx agreed that they’d deal with Christmas stuff after Isha showed. She was priority.

And Jinx didn’t seem to doubt that. She spent her days off shopping for Isha’s room. Buying lights and toys and posters.

One night, she spent hours sticking glow-in-the-dark stars to the chipped, worn ceiling of the room, angling them into constellations — Lepus’ ears and Andromeda’s arms.

“Thought you were doing this for me,” Ekko joked. He was handing her stars while she stood on the ladder, tongue curling out between her lips in concentration.

She shot him a look — squeezed his hand, winking. “Cool it with the narcissism, Boy Savior.”

She looked…happy. Genuinely happy. Excited— even if he knew she wouldn’t admit it. And if she was happy, then of course he was, too.

And then Sky came for a final visit.

She sat facing them at the dining table, twirling a thin, silver spoon in a mug filled with coffee. Jinx was picking at the skin of her nails — the cuticles raw — and Ekko draped her hands with his.

“Well, Isha’s room looks great.” Sky pulled a binder out from her bag, opening it up and onto the table. “So, we just have some details to attend to. First about Isha.”

“How is she?” Jinx straightened up. “With that woman — Babette.”

“Better than her last home.” Sky shrugged. “But she keeps asking when she gets to come here.”

Ekko’s heart throbbed. At least she was safe. And she would be here soon — they were nearly four weeks into the process now. It was almost over.

Sky slid stapled sheets across to them.

“Here’s her file. Allergies, medical history, early childhood, past education.” She reached for her mug and slurped from its rim. “As you’ve noticed, Isha is non-verbal.”

Ekko nodded. “Has she ever spoken at all?”

“Her uncle had said she didn’t, but there’s no way of being absolutely sure.” Sky leaned back into her chair. “There’s nothing wrong with her throat — she can technically speak — she just doesn’t. Not that it’s like she doesn’t want to. Sometimes trauma causes these things — sometimes this is just a way of feeling in control of a life that’s anything but.”

From her briefcase, Sky pulled out a thick, sleek book.

“Isha can sign a few words — some are hardly decipherable, things she’s made up on her own — but she’s never stayed anywhere long enough for anyone to properly teach her.” She shoved the book towards them. “This should help. Has basic signs. There’s also a world of good stuff on YouTube.”

Ekko took the book in his hands, slotting it down into his lap. “I know a little sign from college — not enough though.”

Jinx, for the first time that morning, spoke up.  “What happened to her parents — you mentioned an uncle?”

Sky sucked in a breath. “Her mother died when she was three. Then she was with an uncle. ‘Til he…gave her up. Only a year later. Couldn’t handle her, he’d said.”

Piece of shit, Ekko wanted to say. He knew Jinx was thinking it too — the hardness of her face gave it away.

“But now that that’s settled,” Sky went on, “I must ask you two a few personal questions.”

Jinx shuffled in her seat. Her hands were cold in Ekko’s — clammy.

“For starters, do either of you have criminal records?”

He could feel the way Jinx froze. There was a snarl on her lip that curled down, weighed by anxiety.

“I was a teenager in foster care. Of course, I do.” He could see Jinx clench her jaw — the skin there tight and trembling. “Shoplifting — graffiti. The works.”

Sky’s brows raised. She took another sip of coffee. “That’s fine. As long as your record is clear as an adult, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Jinx graduated top of her class,” Ekko said. He felt like he was scrambling for her. They couldn’t just leave it at that. Jinx was good — she was a good person. So what, she’d fucked up as a kid. Everyone did — even if Jinx was convinced her mistakes were somehow greater. Somehow worse. “She has a great job — one she’s good at — she’s an engineer.”

“That’s good — amazing, even” Sky smiled. She looked admittedly relieved. “That matters, believe me.”

But Jinx didn’t seem to believe her at all.

It got worse, somehow, when Sky inquired about their mental health histories and Jinx had to tell her of the antidepressants — the past therapy appointments. He could tell it was like pulling at teeth — she didn’t like talking about this with him, and now here she was, forced to tell Sky of all people.

By the time Sky left, Jinx had curled up into herself in her room. She was at her desk — it was such a narrow fit, lodged between her wall and her bed — fiddling with a gadget she’d been working on. Some robot that bit its jagged claws and chomped.

She did this when she was anxious, he knew. When she wanted to be left alone.

Eventually, he snuck off to bed and woke up in the middle of the night.

When he woke in the middle of the night, he found her again. The stars they’d stuck to the ceiling of Isha’s room glowed a golden, amber yellow. Jinx was at the middle of the room with a long string of lights draped across her lap. She sat motionless — her face empty; unreadable.

Ekko moved to sit next to her on the carpet. “Can’t sleep?”

Jinx didn’t look at him.

“The lights were crooked.”

“What?”

“The fairy lights. I hung them up crooked.” Despite the heat that radiated through the apartment, Jinx was shuddering. “They were crooked — and not in that cute quirky way. They just looked like shit.”

“Powder, relax.” Ekko dropped a hand at her shoulder. He hated seeing her like this. He never felt more useless than he did when Jinx got too deep in her own head — when she couldn’t be talked down. “It’s a nice room. She’ll like the room.”

“Yeah,” Jinx scoffed. Her voice was raw, like she’d been crying. “If she ever gets to see it. Thanks to me.”

“She will.” He tucked her closer to him, drew her in. She was a stone in his hands; cold and smooth and stiff. “Soon. It’s almost over.”

“What if — "

“There’s no what ifs —”

“But there are, Ekko!” Jinx snapped. She shot herself up, standing with the fairy lights strung beneath her fingers, pulling at the cord — stretching, jerking.

“It’s not like I have the clearest record. I have episodes. I used to fight with the girls in the group homes — I might’ve ruined this for you.” Jinx’s face crumbled. “For her.”

Ekko shook his head.

“You heard Sky — what you did when you were sixteen doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t know that.” Jinx draped her arms across herself, the cord twining around her torso — coiling like ivy on her arms. “And you don’t know what else they’ll find.”

“You forget Vi is the one who went to juvie. Not that it even matters, anyway.” Ekko stood up. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Cupped her face in both his hands. “But it wasn’t you.”

“Could’ve been.” Jinx drew her thumb across the coarse string of lights, weaving the cord between two long, thin fingers. “Should’ve been.”

“Powder —”

Jinx ducked her head low — brushed his fingers off. She turned away from him. “I gotta fix these fucking lights.” 

“No.” Ekko pulled at her arm. He hardly ever denied her of things — hardly ever had the heart to. But if he didn’t, she’d stay here ‘til daylight. Until her shift started in the morning. “Come. We’ll do the lights tomorrow.”

“No, I have to —”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. He tugged at her until she looked at him. Her eyes were wet — her mouth a wobble. Ekko’s throat constricted.

“Come on. Come with me.” His voice was a whisper.

Jinx said nothing, but still she followed. Let Ekko drag her out of the room and into his own. Together, they curled up beneath the blankets. He tucked her in close — tucked her on his chest — and felt the quivering breath she let out.

The length of her braid tickled at his bicep, familiar and heavy. She was still so cold — that thin, narrow nose never warm, even when nestled at the skin of his neck. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

They’d done this a million times before, he was sure. But something about this time felt different. Maybe because everything was different now — their lives about to change.

“Sleep. You work tomorrow,” he murmured. He squeezed her closer. “I’ve got you.”

In his arms, Jinx softened. Her breath was hot against his collarbone — the only heat she ever reverberated — and when she spoke, he could almost feel the phantom of her lips; raw and chapped.

She twined her legs with his own, and Ekko basked in the chill it sent right down through spine.

“I know.”

--

Jinx was growing impatient.

It’d been a week since Sky’s last visit and all they had left to do was wait. And wait. And wait. She’d said they would probably hear back soon, but when was soon? Another week — a month? Would Isha only show after Christmas?

Jinx hoped not. She’d been avoiding Vi’s phone calls for the past few weeks, resorting to texts. Vi’d been busy anyway. Her — and Cait, mostly Cait — had offered to host Christmas. Which was no real shock; they’d hosted every year since they’d lived together. And as much as Jinx dreaded going, she was nonetheless grateful for it. Vi was too busy with the menu to ask questions — too busy tending to Cait’s every concern over decorations and presents, too, Jinx was sure.

So maybe, by extension, Jinx was grateful to Cait for once. She didn’t have it in her to tell Vi about Isha yet.

Nothing was finalized. And Isha might not even have a chance to live here, anyway.

And while she hadn’t even wanted this, that didn’t matter. She’d made Isha a promise and she couldn’t ever wish to break it — but she just might have anyway. All thanks to her own doing; her own mistakes.

She’d probably jinxed Isha before the girl even settled into her life.

She hadn’t had a full-blown episode, but her anxiety boiled. Ekko worked night shifts still, and she spent most of her evenings waiting for him to come back home so they could clamber into his bed. Hers, too, sometimes. She’d rob him of his heat and his comfort, and he’d let her do so without a word.

It was the only way she’d been able to get any sleep. Then she’d wake up at eight and make it to work by nine.

By Friday, it all felt like routine.

Fall asleep in Ekko’s arms. Shuffle herself out of them. Throw on sweats. Almost miss the bus. Then stumble into Zaun.

Nestled in a repurposed industrial warehouse, Zaun Tech was open and airy — though it lacked windows, and daylight. Heimerdinger opened it as a start-up and co-ran it with his former student, Viktor — some Slavic guy in his late 20’s who liked to tell Jinx she had “potential.”

It was Viktor now who hovered close as she shoved her backpack into her locker, stuffing her phone into her pocket.

He pursed his lips at her. “You’ve been off.”

Jinx scowled. Viktor didn’t talk too much, but when he did, he’d make sure you remembered.

“Life’s been off.”

He shrugged, following her to her desk and sitting on a stool across from her.

“When is it ever not?” He spoke earnestly and it pissed Jinx the hell off. He took himself too seriously.

“Nice one, Socrates.”

Viktor shrugged again, then wandered off to bother someone else. She hadn’t ever told anyone at Zaun about her life, and she surely didn’t plan on starting now — and absolutely not with Viktor. Though it wouldn’t be Heimerdinger either.

She hadn’t even made it an hour through her shift before her phone rang. She hadn’t heard it the first time — she was too busy drilling a hole into the frame of a prosthetic limb. Then she hardly caught it the second time.

She didn’t recognize the number.

Jinx shucked her mask down to the base of her neck. “Alright, make it quick, I’m on the clock.”

Sky’s voice rang out through the other line. “I’m sorry… is this Powder — Jinx?”

She dropped the drill to the floor — the sound of metal against ceramic clanged out through the warehouse, earning her some glares.

“That’s me!”

Across the line, Sky cleared her throat. Jinx’s heart was beating a thousand miles a minute in her chest.

“I tried to call Ekko first, but he hasn’t been answering my calls.”

“He’s asleep,” Jinx said. “He worked night shifts this week.”

“Right, well, that might have to change. Given you’ll now have some responsibility to tend to at night. And day, really.”

Jinx blinked. “We were — we were accepted?”

“Congratulations! I’ll be bringing Isha to your place as early as tomorrow!”

Tomorrow. Fuck that — approved?

Approved.

Sky was still talking but Jinx hadn’t heard a word. She scrambled towards her locker and offered Viktor some off-handed excuse for having to leave — family emergency, she’d said. He hadn’t even had the chance to answer before she darted out and made a run for the next bus.

There was no one on it, but Jinx couldn’t find it in her to sit. Her legs were jittery with nerves.

She hadn’t fucked it up. Somehow. Maybe there was a mistake — maybe they’d skimmed her file. Maybe they overlooked something.

But who cared? She’d kept her promise, and really that was what mattered most.

On the phone, Sky was still going. Something about groceries and clothes and toiletries and other crap. She’d emailed Jinx a list of things she’d need to buy tonight in advance for tomorrow.

Jinx would deal with it later — she just wanted Sky to shut up now; she needed to tell Ekko.

Once off the bus, she practically ran home. It was barely ten in the morning, and the streets were barren and empty — the wind slapped at her cheeks, drawing tears from the corners of her eyes. Her lungs felt scorched, but she had to get to Ekko now.

Sky eventually ran out of things to say, but made Jinx promise to call back with Ekko later. She stumbled into the apartment, shucking off her shoes, and flopped herself right onto Ekko’s bed.

Ekko jerked; Jinx’s body cloaked over his legs. He sat upright, rubbing at his eyes. “Wha — What’s going on?”

Jinx moved and drew his face into her hands. Their foreheads brushed. “Sky called me.”

Ekko’s mouth opened. His eyes were flying saucers, pouring into hers. “We’re approved?”

“You did it, Boy Saviour,” she laughed. “That complex lives to see another day.”

His hands moved to tug at her wrists. His eyes were still lost in the haze of sleep, and she considered slapping at his cheek to prove it wasn’t all just some dream.

"We’re approved?” He said it again, like he hadn’t heard the first time.

“Sky’s bringing her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” He squeezed at her wrists, fully flopping his forehead onto hers. “Jinx — what?”

“Jesus, wake up, Ekko!” She gave his shoulders a shake. “You’re the one who wanted this.”

“We don’t — we don’t even have enough shit yet —”

“Whatever, we have all day,” Jinx groaned. “And a stupid list — courtesy of Sky.”

As if he’d only now registered it, Ekko’s mouth split into that wild, sun-bleached smile. He drew Jinx in, twining his arms around her, the duvet cornered between them like some thin, silky border.

“I told you —” he was speaking into her shoulder, his breath warm — “I told you we would. I told you.”

He had. Really, he’d been saying it all week. She hadn’t even had to speak of it — it was like he knew, anyway, each time she was in her head about it. He’d pluck at her cheek or tug at a braid and tell her it’d work out.

And he was right.

She wondered, in that moment, if all that right could undo her wrong. Not all of it, but some. And for a second, she thought maybe it could. Maybe it had. 

--

Their apartment had never been so clean, Ekko was sure.

After spending all morning shopping, Ekko and Jinx spent the rest of the day making sure their place was ready for Isha’s arrival. Jinx scrubbed the bathroom whole while Ekko mopped the kitchen tiles. They washed all of Isha’s bedsheets and even lit a candle — something sweet and mellow; lavender, milk, and sugar.

And Ekko — always one to go the extra mile — prepped a lasagna from scratch. Tomato sauce, meat and bechamel slotted over thin, wet slabs of pasta, topped by a thick layer of cheese.

Then he had to clean the counter — again — without Jinx’s help, because he was “the one who spontaneously decided to cook right after cleaning, like an idiot.”

That night, Jinx found sleep surprisingly quick. She wasn’t as anxious as she had been now that they’d been approved, Ekko could tell, but still she crawled into the sheets with him, twining their legs together.

He said nothing. She said nothing. They lingered in silence while Ekko shuffled through the ASL book Sky had gifted them. Jinx, instead, noisily scrolled though TikTok until she fell asleep with the phone at her chest.

Ekko plucked it off her and tossed it on his bedside table. In sleep — in peaceful sleep — she looked different. Looked, somehow, more like Powder. Which was stupid. They were the same person. But maybe it was the lack of agitation — the way she couldn’t hold her defence up like a silver, wielded shield.

He tucked a loose hair away from her face. His breathing hitched. Under the dim, dewy lights of his room she looked almost bathed in gold. Her lashes — dark, brown — swept the thin, milky skin below her eyes. Her cupid’s bow twitched with each deep, solid breath.

His heart seemed to loop in his chest, though he wasn’t sure why. Tomorrow’s anxiety, most likely. They’d prepped, sure, but still it never felt like enough. And Ekko was always worried he’d forgotten something.

He closed the book and reached over to shut the light, casting one last glimpse at Jinx while he did. He watched as her lamplit-gold skin dissolved. Instead, her silhouette was draped by thin strips of moonlight that drained in through the shutters.

He laid flat on his back, and Jinx curled into him — the movement mechanic, innate. That night, he was the one who could hardly find sleep. He stumbled in and out of consciousness.

Once the sun rose, he rose with it. He poured himself a mug of coffee and waited for Jinx to rouse, only hours later.

She stumbled into the living room to find him with that book. He was trying to put as much to memory as he could.

Jinx stretched her arms above her head, and a slice of taut skin peaked out between her shorts and her top. Ekko looked away quick, sipping on his coffee.

“How long you been up?”

Ekko shrugged. “As long as the sun.”

Jinx smiled. “Fitting.”

Ekko wasn’t sure what that meant but smiled back. Jinx got herself a mug — some Vegas one they’d gotten from a road trip last summer — and joined him on the couch. Outside, Ekko could hear the rumble of city life. Cars whooshing past, birds chirping. People starting their day.

“So, Sky said two o’clock, right?”

Ekko nodded. “Yeah. We got all morning.”

Jinx shot him a look.

“Are you —" she stumbled on her words. “Are you nervous?”

“Absolutely.” Ekko nudged her. “Aren’t you?”

“I guess,” Jinx frowned. “Probably not for the same reasons.”

He knew what was going through her mind and he wished so badly he could shut it off.

“She’ll be fine,” Ekko assured. “We’ll make sure of that.”

She looked like she wanted to fight him on it, but she didn’t. Instead, she wielded that shield again. Turned to what she knew best — humour, sarcasm, jokes.

“You’ve peaked, Boy Savior.” She reached over to boop at his nose. “This is as a savior-y as it gets.”

The rest of the morning dragged on. They ate cereal on the couch before taking turns in the shower. It was almost uncommonly cold outside — colder than it should be for this time of year — and Ekko shucked his thickest crewneck down over his head.

Jinx — always cold, though somehow never feeling it — was wearing one of his t-shirts. Some baggy thing from college he didn’t even know she kept around. Her hair was still in those braids and Ekko suddenly realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them undone.

By the time one o’clock rolled around, Jinx was pacing, and Ekko was still poring over that book. Page after page he tried to burn into his memory. Things like hello. Hungry. Tired. Hurt. Sad. Upset.

The important things.

Once two o’clock hit, their doorbell rang to life. Almost exactly on the nose. Ekko buzzed them up, their apartment was on the second floor.

They hardly had a chance to knock. Ekko opened the door and burst into a smile. He hadn’t seen Isha in a month. The day she’d been discharged, she didn’t seem happy about it.

She asked him over and over again to play one last round of UNO with her before she had to be shipped off to Babette’s. He’d complied, of course. But eventually, Sky told her it was time to go, and Ekko had other patients to see. Isha had whimpered — her healed arm waving him goodbye — but he’d promised to see her again soon.

“Come in!”

Ekko beckoned them forward, and Isha cautiously stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room — careful, meticulous — then widened a little when she spotted Jinx at the threshold of the kitchen.

“Looks like you’ve got a shiny-new arm there, kid.” Jinx came closer and Isha hung by the doorway, still hardly in the apartment at all. She was still standing on their welcome mat.

Sky was there, too of course, clutching to Isha’s bag from behind her. It was a small bag.

“Go on, Isha,” Sky tutted. “This is your home now, remember?”

Isha sauntered in a little deeper — close enough to see into the living room, into the kitchen. She hovered close to Ekko, too, while Jinx frowned when she caught sight of Sky’s hands.

“Is that all her stuff?”

Sky nodded. “Not much, I know. But this is the case for lots of kids.”

“That’s fine.” Ekko shot Jinx a look. Her face was stiff, and Isha wouldn’t stop looking at her. “We got her a bunch of new stuff.”

“Isn’t that nice!” Sky forced a smile down at Isha, but the girl was looking around again, close to Ekko’s side, soaking everything in. She looked overwhelmed — uncomfortable. He got it. He hated shuffling around before Benzo.

The first few days were always the worst. A stranger in a stranger’s house. Funny noises. Unfamiliar smells. Unfamiliar people. It sucked. But Ekko wanted to make this transition as smooth as he could.

“Hey,” Ekko brushed her shoulder — just a quick tap — and Isha looked up at him. “Wanna see your room? Jinx worked extra hard on it, y’know.”

Her owl eyes brightened. She nodded firmly and suddenly — just as hard as she did on that day they’d asked if she wanted to come live with them.

Ekko reached for her hand. For a second, Isha hesitated. She looked up at him, like she was trying to remember him for exactly who he was. He looked different without his scrubs, he knew — less like a nurse willing to help and more like some guy. But Isha seemed to find the semblance, because she let him drape his hand with her own while he guided her towards the room.

Jinx was hot on his heels — Sky behind them, too.

“If you don’t like it,” Jinx was already saying, “we can always change somethin’ up.”

But her words were lost to Isha’s ears. The second Ekko opened that bedroom door, her whole face turned to something he’d never seen. Awe — absolute awe.

The room wasn’t big — it never had been, even when cluttered with two mirrored desks — but it was cozy.

They’d left the blinds closed, and those amber stars Jinx had glued to the ceiling turned everything to honey. The fairy lights were strung up above the long, lined window — dipping low and rising like mountain peaks. The walls were blue, like Isha had asked — only, they were painted over with things. Blue clouds, bunnies, birds.

There was a small, patterned carpet at the middle of it — the hardwood floors could get cold, but they’d bought her tons of socks and two pairs of slippers anyway. Posters were strung up — though only a few. Jinx wanted Isha to have creative liberty. And there were, of course, a few more stuffed animals lined up on the patterned duvet of her bed, which was pressed up by the window.

For a while, Isha only stared. Her hand was loose in Ekko’s, her eyes unblinking. Then, eventually, she wandered inside, looking around. Soaking it up.

“You can touch stuff, you know. It’s not a museum.” Jinx was leaning up against the doorframe. “It’s all yours. You can mess with all of it.”

Isha turned to look at her. When Jinx spoke, it seemed like Isha hardly had her attention elsewhere.

Once it was clear Jinx meant it — hadn’t taken it back — Isha tentatively ran a hand across the gentle duvet of her bed. She patted at each of the heads on her three new toys. She looked into the drawers of her wooden, vintage dresser — something Jinx had thrifted — and opened her mouth in wonder to find all of it stuffed with clothes.

What she had on now looked worn enough — a tattered pair of overalls and a striped, green t-shirt. She hadn’t taken off her jacket, yet either — a classic yellow raincoat, scruffy from age.

“So,” Jinx wandered in, dropped a hand to her hip. “Ya like it?”

Isha didn’t hesitate. She nodded yes, her head quick as a whip, and Ekko figured now was the time to use at least some of what he’d learned in that book.

He wandered over by Jinx and crouched to Isha’s level. He put his right hand in a fist and shook the fist in place, up and down. The sign for yes.

Isha smiled wide, signing back. One of her front teeth had fallen out, he’d realized. Or maybe he’d just never seen her smile so big before — big enough to show the whole of her teeth.

Jinx sighed from above them. She sounded annoyed, but the smile on her face gave her away.

“Guess I gotta learn this secret hand language now, huh?”

Isha looked up at her, still thrilled. She put her hand into a fist and shook — yes.

--

Sky left, but not without fussing over Isha one last time. Ekko’d asked if she wanted to stay for dinner, but Sky had other cases to deal with. She gave the girl a hug and asked her to behave ­— Isha only shrugged and waved a goodbye.

And then were alone, just the three of them, for the very first time. And this was just how it would be now.

Jinx still couldn’t wrap her head around it. It’d been her and Ekko alone for so long. And now Isha was here — quiet and curious.

Ekko gave her a tour of the apartment. It wasn’t a long tour — the place wasn’t very big. First the bathroom, the living room, the the kitchen — Jinx showed her which drawer hid all the good snacks. Then Ekko’s room — big, with his desk tucked up at his window. And then Jinx’s — smaller, messier — her tools slung at every corner, hanging like frames from nails in the walls.

After showing her both rooms, Isha squinted at them hard — like she was trying to figure them out. Jinx felt like the kid was seeing through them again — that transparency — with those invasive owl eyes.

Ekko must’ve felt it, too. He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Why don’t we unpack your stuff?”

There wasn’t much to unpack. A few sweaters, a rugged jean jacket, one pair of pajamas, a worn, San Francisco Giants cap. And at the very bottom, that same bunny. Isha gasped when she saw it, reaching over quick to slot it down onto her bed, propped right up against her pillows.

Jinx couldn’t help but chuckle. “Did you ever find that thing a name?”

Isha looked over and shook her head. She looked a little shameful about it.

Jinx shrugged. “It’ll come to ya, kid.”

Later, Ekko started prepping the sides after shoving his lasagna in the oven.

Jinx, meanwhile, shuffled through Netflix with Isha, trying to find her something to watch.

Isha seemed more cautious without Ekko around — she kept her distance, flopping herself on the complete opposite end of the couch.

Jinx faltered. What the hell did seven-year-olds even watch?

She prodded at the remove with her nail.

“You got a favourite show?”

Across the couch, Isha shook her head no.

“Really?” Jinx droned. “Peppa Pig? Bluey? None of that?”

Isha shook her head again, harder this time. Insulted, almost. Maybe those were for younger kids. Jinx wasn’t sure — what the hell would she know about children’s TV. When she was young, her and Vi would sneak-watch Family Guy after Vander fell asleep on the La-Z-Boy.

Maybe Isha liked Family Guy. Regardless, Ekko’d never let that slide.

Jinx figured a movie would be better, then. Christmas was coming, so she just settled on the Grinch. Jinx shot a glance over to make sure Isha seemed into it, then darted at the corner of the living room and was reminded how little they’d prepped for Christmas.

They didn’t even have a tree — no wreaths, no reindeer, no ribbons. Maybe Isha would think she was like the Grinch, too.

“Powder.” Ekko dropped a bowl of salad at the middle of the dining table. “Can you help set the table?”

Jinx groaned. They weren’t the kind of people who set tables. They usually just ate on the couch, but Jinx figured he wanted to make a good impression. This set-the-table crap better not last.

“If I must.”

Isha shot her a curious look, and Jinx only then realized Isha only knew her as Jinx. She considered explaining, but Isha’d already gone back to watching the Grinch saunter his miserable way into Whoville.

Jinx set up napkins and utensils while Ekko drew the lasagna from the oven, plating each dish with salad and pasta.

“Ou, did you dress it with peanut butter?”

“No,” Ekko said. “That wouldn’t go right with the pasta.”

“Then I’m not eating it.”

“Jinx.” Ekko scowled. He lowered his voice. “Make a good impression. She copies you.”

Jinx’s brows hardened. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you see how she’s sitting on the couch?” He motioned for Jinx to look at Isha. She was tucked up into herself, chin drawn to her knees. Jinx often sat the same — didn’t even realize she’d been curled up, most of the time.

Jinx frowned. “She’s just sitting.”

“Don’t believe me, fine,” Ekko scoffed. “But eat the salad for your insides, at least.”

Jinx didn’t care for her insides, but she did care for Ekko. And by extension, Isha, she supposed. So later, when the three of them were sitting for dinner — the Grinch singing lowly somewhere behind them — Jinx stuffed a forkful of lettuce into her mouth. From across her, Isha did the same.

She ignored Ekko’s look, though she could feel his I-told-you-so eyes drilling into the side of her face.

Eventually, Ekko filled the silence.

“How was it?” he asked. “With Babette. Did you have fun?”

Isha only shrugged. God, they had a long way to go with that signing thing.

“Didn’t Sky say she lived by the beach.” Ekko was still trying. Bless his heart. “Isn’t that cool?”

Isha shrugged again, but this time with a tiny nod. She dropped her fork and made a fist, shaking. Yes.

That was the most they got from her that night. She seemed tired. Jinx could imagine she was. Moving was hard — even if you had such little to pack. New places were hard, and Isha’d lived in three homes in hardly two months. Four, if you counted the hospital. That’d be hard on anyone.

After dinner, Jinx washed the dishes while Ekko helped Isha get ready for bed. She’d tried to finish the Grinch, but her eyes fluttered closed every five minutes, and Ekko eventually just shut the TV off and promised her they’d finish it tomorrow.

“Jinx?”

She turned around, a dish towel in her hand while she scrubbed at the inside of a mug.

Isha was wearing some shark pyjamas they’d gotten from Target, and she hovered by Ekko with tired eyes. Jinx nearly sulked. The kid looked adorable.

“Isha wanted to say goodnight.”

She slotted the mug and the towel down, moving towards Isha. The girl didn’t seem to flinch away when she reached a hand out to ruffle at her hair. It was a little longer than the last time she saw her, still choppy. But long enough to braid in two, short strands, if the girl wanted.

Isha chased the touch, offering Jinx a smile. “’Night kid."

Ekko didn’t return after too long. He helped her with the dishes and together they flopped on the couch.

“Does she like the bed?”

“Crashed almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, so I guess.”

Jinx smiled. And fuck that old, creaky hospital bed. For a little, they watched some bad reality TV until Ekko’s eyes started fluttering closed like Isha’s had.

He moved to stumble over to bed and pried at her fingers, tugging her up with him, the movement intuitive. Then, as if realizing what he’d implied, his hand dropped hers suddenly.

“I’d come, but…I’m not tired yet.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Ekko drew a hand to his face. “Besides, we should — uh. We should go back to regular sleeping habits. Try to fall back into a normal routine, for Isha’s sake.”

Jinx slouched. She’d crawled into Ekko’s bed lots of times, but never did she sleep with him for one whole week through. Not until this past week.

She shot him a wink. It wasn’t like that whole co-sleeping thing had to mean anything.

“Dream of my arms, Boy Savior.”

“Yeah,” Ekko scoffed. “And all that cold you radiate.”

--

Once the TV got boring, Jinx settled for the ASL book.

The thing was detailed and thick, with images to show how each sign looked. But Jinx needed more visuals. She watched videos ‘til two in the morning, mimicking movements with her own hands, trying to hold them to memory.

She hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten until she heard the tiniest patter of feet on the floor. Jinx looked to her left and found Isha hovering at the threshold of the hallway with her head half-hidden in the shadows. That bunny was tucked into her arms, and she looked like she was hesitating.

She probably hoped she’d find Ekko instead of her.

“Hey.” Jinx shut her laptop closed from the couch. “Bedbugs been biting?”

Isha wandered over a little. She only blinked. Suddenly, all she’d learned about signing seemed to disappear.

“Can’t fall back asleep?”

Isha nodded. She still looked tired, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands — her hair was a tangled mess at the crown of her head, her pajamas all wrinkled. The first night at a new place was always the hardest.

“Sleep and I aren’t good friends either,” Jinx groaned. “But I’ve found ways to kick its ass. Wanna see?”

Isha nodded, curious, and followed Jinx as she led the girl to her room. She motioned for Isha to crawl back beneath the duvet, then sat at the edge of the mattress before pointing up at the amber-lit ceiling.

“My sister and I would tell each other stories when we were little, sometimes. Helped me fall sleep.” Jinx said, then cleared her throat. “But then she had to go away one day. And I had to start making up my own stories for a while.”

Isha stared at her, her face aglow.

“You see those stars? They’re constellations.” Jinx looked up. “Now I could tell you a story if you want. But if you ever want to try and get creative, these could help.”

Jinx pointed to the left.

“That’s Andromeda,” she began. “She’s a princess, but not the fairy-tale kind. More like the chained-to-a-rock-and-waiting-for-a-monster kind. In Greek mythology, she was supposed to be a sacrifice to save her kingdom. A shit gig, really.”

Jinx chuckled lightly. Her mother was the one who always liked Greek Mythology — preached it almost like true religion. That was how Jinx knew so much.

“But I always thought that whole thing was stupid. I used to imagine her breaking free all on her own. No knights, no rescues. Just her and her smarts. Figured she deserved better, y’know?”

She pointed to the other end of the ceiling.

“And that’s Lepus.” Isha followed her pointed hands. “Those are supposed to be rabbit ears, but I kinda screwed the angle up a little. Now they just look like wings.”

Isha’s face brightened. She pointed at her bunny, then the Lepus constellation, and Jinx’s brows raised.

“Lepus? That’s what you wanna call her?”

Isha nodded, tucking the tiny thing closer to her.

Jinx shrugged. “Okay. Lepus. Why don’t you make a story there — give her wings?”

Isha nodded, and was already tucking herself back in. Jinx helped draw the covers closer to her and moved to leave.

“’Night, kid.”

Before she could slip out though, Isha let out a whine. Jinx turned and found Isha frowning, holding the bunny up towards Jinx. Its fat head lolled into itself, crooked. Isha had three new damn toys — more expensive ones, too — and still, she loved that stupid bunny most of all. 

“And goodnight, Lepus?”

Isha nodded happily, slouching back down, and closing her eyes. The bunny — Lepus — tucked close. And Jinx swears she saw that goddamn thing wink.

Chapter Text

Really, this was the part Jinx had been dreading.

It’d been four days since Isha had settled in — four days since that first Saturday — and Jinx and Ekko were left with the reality of what was next.

Christmas.

There was a still week until the 25 th , but the days pinched together so tight they felt more like hours.

Jinx was shocked at how well Ekko was handling it — the shopping he’d typically span out over months was boiled down to one mere week. And she knew how he was about time —chasing it down, forcing himself ahead — the fourth needle on a clock, always ticking faster than the other three.

She figured he was trying to hold it together for Isha.

What helped more than anything, though, was that Ekko and Jinx were both given time off.

Jinx had called Heimerdinger on Monday morning, going on about a family emergency without disclosing any details. The man was strange, yes, but he was also exceptionally human .

“Ah, lassie,” he’d droned over the phone, “ family is what makes the world go round . Apart from science, of course. ”

He told her to take all the time she needed, but she also needed money — and making things had always been some kind of outlet for her mind, a release — so she promised to be back after the holidays.

Besides, Isha would be in school by then. Right now, the girl was a fish out of water — she was still enrolled at her old school in Daly City, which was a little too far from their apartment for her to go back in the new year. Especially given they didn’t have a car.

But Ekko was set on making it work, of course, if he had to. If Isha wanted it.

“Do you want to stay there?” He’d asked her. She was slouched on the sofa, sign book abandoned in her lap.

Isha shook her head. She pinched her thumb to her middle and index fingers — the sign for no — and then something else that Jinx and Ekko hadn’t recognized. After hesitating, Isha scoured through the book to show them what she meant, her face tinged red. Friends .

No friends.

Jinx had swallowed hard. She hadn’t been sure why that made her heart hurt — made her stomach twinge — made her mad . What a bunch of idiot kids.

Ekko’s face had been softer than hers, though she knew him well enough to see what was behind it, lined with worry. He reached out to pat at Isha’s shoulder.

“How about making good friends at a new school, then?”

Isha shrugged, her attention falling back to the TV. It rained reds and greens and whites onto her face — some Christmas special. Ekko wanted to prod further, but Jinx nudged at his shoulder to leave it alone. Isha didn’t want to talk about school at all. Which would do, for now.

Besides, they had Christmas to worry about. Christmas to pry after.

It was a good thing Isha seemed to love shopping. Since Monday, it was all they’d really done.

Isha liked to poke her head through the aisles and watch what Jinx picked up — Cinnamon Toast Crunch and pints of ice cream. Ekko was set on keeping her diet healthy, but still he folded — almost every other thing Isha picked up he’d offer to buy her. At first, the girl said no, retreating. But eventually, after being asked so many times, she started shaking her fist. Up and down. Yes .

Tuesday night, they’d picked up a tree — a thin, pathetic thing that was more branch than it was pine needle. It was the only one that could really fit in their apartment, tucked right by the dining table. Below it sat a small pile of poorly wrapped gifts; things they’d gotten for Isha’s bedroom before she showed — toys and other junk — but had held onto for the holiday.

It took a few days for Isha’s personality to shine through. She wasn’t as reserved as Jinx originally presumed. Still, she wasn’t fully comfortable — it’d only been five days, now — but she’d opened up faster than Jinx thought she would.

The kid was shockingly stubborn, actually. Bold, in the quietest sense.

She didn’t always finish her veggies — even if Ekko insisted. Didn’t always want to go to bed, even when she was already half-asleep. Rarely wanted to work on improving her signing, either — tried to derail it by asking Ekko for a snack.

And of course, Ekko gave in. Sucker.

While shopping — which was all they’d been doing lately, really — she’d taken a liking to slotting herself between Jinx or Ekko and the grocery-store cart, standing on the thin, steel ledge above the rear wheels.

Jinx watched now as the girl leaned back. Ekko wasn’t standing too near — busy roaming the aisles — and Isha was trying to lift the cart off its front wheels.  

The thing wasn’t budging — Isha too small and skinny to add any kind of real weight. But Ekko saw her quickly, his eyes nearly popping out from their sockets.

Jinx laughed at the way he lifted her off her feet, planting her onto the ground, begging her not to do it again. Jinx only tugged at Isha’s cap, slanting it down below her eyes.

“Break that arm again and it’ll stay that way forever, kid.” Isha’s brows raised. “Seriously, everyone knows that’s how it works.”

Ekko groaned. “ Jinx . Don’t lie.”

“What?” She’d shrugged. She pushed at the cart, and Isha slipped her way in between Jinx’s figure and the long, brass handle, heaving herself back onto the ledge. “I’m not lying.”

Isha stared over her shoulder, smiling giddily when Jinx shot her a wink.

They were at Trader Joe’s, scrounging the fruit aisle. Ekko was buying ingredients for that berry cheesecake Vi always liked, and Jinx swallowed the lump in her throat as Ekko slotted blueberries down into the cart.  

And there was the matter she dreaded.

She still hadn’t told Vi about Isha yet. It wasn’t like she was worried about what Vi would say — not about Isha. But she had kept it from her for over a month, and that would probably piss her off more than anything else.

Vi wanted Jinx to be open with her, wanted Jinx to trust her. And while Jinx had no reason not to, those years apart had still cut a tear through the heart of them.

And Cait, obviously, didn’t help. God knew what she’d have to say about this whole ordeal.

Jinx cringed at the thought — she didn’t need Cait prying in her business. Didn’t need her advice.  

Ekko, shockingly, had been oddly quiet about it. He hadn’t interfered, hadn’t told her she should tell Vi like she was expecting him to — but she just assumed he didn’t want to bring it up so much, with Isha always around. Didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable — the elephant in the room.

But Jinx would tell her. Would have to, soon enough. Christmas was a week away, what choice did she even have?

Isha leaned forward on her elbows, drooping against the cart’s handle. She offered Jinx a crooked smile from the corner of her mouth — kept shooting glances at her.

Yeah, Jinx would call Vi tonight.

While Ekko wandered through his dairy options, Isha tugged at Jinx’s sleeve. She pointed towards an aisle lined with candy, and grinned when Jinx nudged her way towards it.

That old, tattered baseball cap on Isha’s head kept prodding at her chest. Really, she wore that thing every day, Jinx noticed — slung it on backwards in the way Vi would when she was young.

It was withering away, the material punctured and flossy. But when Ekko asked if she wanted a new one, she shook her head no, adamant.

Jinx plucked a box of black liquorice off the shelf and tossed it into the cart. Isha, now standing on her own two feet, wore a look of absolute disgust.  

“What?” Jinx slotted a hand on her hip. “Not my fault if you don’t have taste.”

Isha faked a gag, then reached for a bag of coloured, Scandinavian candy. She held it up to Jinx’s face; her quickest way of asking, “can I have this?”

Jinx waved a hand. “Not my vibe, but sure, kid.”

Isha threw the bag into the basket, dodging Jinx’s elbows to hoist herself back up on the cart’s ledge. Slowly — sly and sneaky — she drew herself closer, leaning back against Jinx’s front this time.

Jinx tensed, and Isha drew a look back across her shoulder, those too-big eyes somehow even wider — doubtful. Like Jinx would shove her off.

And she almost did — she wasn’t exactly familiar with human touch. Not with anyone who wasn’t Ekko or Vi.

But Isha wouldn’t stop looking at her with those gold, owl eyes, so she settled for a half-hearted eye roll — one she didn’t mean — then tugged back down at Isha’s cap.

Jinx ignored the pride that bubbled in with Isha’s giggle, dragging the cart back towards Ekko. She was already nearing him when her heart almost dropped.

She stopped the cart dead in its tracks, nearly slamming into an elderly woman.

Ekko was there, standing in the dairy aisle next to a woman in a leather jacket. Her dark, red hair was swept close to her face, right above her eyes. And Jinx would know that body anywhere — in life or in death, in any and every world.

Vi .

As if on cue, Vi turned around, and Jinx caught sight of Ekko’s worried face.

Fuck.

There was no backing down now.

Jinx dragged the cart forward, and Vi greeted her with that same beaming face.

“Powder, hey!” She said. “You’re just in time. I was telling Ekko about the menu for next week...” her voice trailed off, and Vi paused for a second.

“And who…is this?” Vi smiled down at Isha, though the muddle was written across her face — reflected by the twine of her brows, the crease of her forehead. “I didn’t know you guys babysat.”

Ekko was staring at Jinx with nervous eyes, still silent. Isha had crawled out from between Jinx and the cart and was standing close to Ekko, now. Vi stared down with question.

Jinx only sighed. What choice did she have?

“We don’t.”

Vi tore her gaze from Isha, her eyes hardening on Jinx. “What do you mean?”  

“This is Isha.” Jinx patted at Isha’s cap. “She uh — she lives with us now.”

For a minute, Vi only stared. Her eyes darted between Ekko and Jinx and Isha like one of them was going to let her in on their joke… But no one budged — not even Isha, who stood frozen, staring back.  

“Powder . What? ”

Isha made a face at the name, and Ekko cleared his throat. He motioned to the flower aisle at the very front of the store, placing a hand on Isha’s shoulder.  

Jinx was grateful. The kid didn’t need to hear this.

“Why don’t we pick some flowers out for your room?”

Isha didn’t seem like she cared for that at all — she was looking between Vi and Jinx like she’d understand whatever was going on between them if she stared hard enough. But Ekko dragged her off anyway, tugging at her hand.

Once they were well out of earshot, Jinx started.

“Look —"

“Did you not plan on telling me you were playing Mommy now?”

“No, I was going to slap a bow on her head — slide her under your Christmas tree next week and yell ‘surprise!’” She ran a gloved hand across her face, the calloused leather cold. “Obviously I was going to tell you, Vi. It was just…private.”

“Secret, you mean.”

Whatever it was, it was embarrassing, frankly.  

Not that she was embarrassed of Isha. ( Never of Isha.)

But if she’d gotten herself and Ekko rejected from her own wrongdoing — her own mistakes from her own adolescence — she didn’t think she could handle what Vi would say. Jinx knew her sister. She’d try to comfort, try to reassure — and despite it, all Jinx would feel was shame.

Vi shot a look at where Isha and Ekko were bundled by the row of flowers. Isha was peering low into the petals, while Ekko gently swatted at her cap with a bouquet. She burst out laughing, trying to grab the flowers from his hands.  

Vi’s lips were still fraught, but she looked less stricken now. There was a softness in her gaze that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“How long has this been going on?”

Jinx dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shrugged. “Dunno — five days, now, I guess.”

“No,” Vi groaned. “The whole thing. With — with —”

“ Isha .”

“Isha. How’d you even find her?”

So Jinx told her. Told her how Isha was originally Ekko’s patient. Told her she’d tried to run away and broke her arm. Told her about the bunny — Lepus. Told her they were going to send Isha to a group home — and as brave as she was, it didn’t matter, a group home would crush diamonds to dust beneath its dirty heeled boot.

By the end of it, Vi’s face had melted. She was looking at her in the way she did when they were younger, and Powder had done something — pulled some accident — that broke her heart. Jinx turned her head towards Ekko.  

She couldn’t look at Vi if Vi was going to look at her like that .

“Look, it won’t be for long.” Jinx bit at her lip. “And she’s a good kid. Couldn’t let her go through that.”

Vi was looking at her so softly, so delicately. Like she was good and Vi was… proud?

  “Powder — I mean, I can’t believe this, and I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, but….” Her voice was impossibly tender, and Jinx couldn’t stand it. Not in public — not right now. She wasn’t Ekko — wasn’t someone’s savior. She was Jinx — Jinx who got Vi sent to juvie, who cursed her own parents, who cursed her own self.

“Don’t —” Jinx held up a hand. “Don’t need to hear it. Just let it be.”  

Vi looked smaller — sunken into herself. Still, she nodded. “Okay.”

“And for the record,” Jinx droned, “If anyone is playing Mommy, it’s Ekko.”

  Vi looked like she’d barely heard — her eyes were still drawn to Isha, watching closely as the girl plucked a petal from a burly bouquet of daisies.

“Fuck,” Vi groaned. She looked defeated, somehow. “I don’t — I don’t even have a Christmas gift for her.”

Jinx couldn’t help the laugh that fled her throat.

“Calm down, Santa.” Jinx draped an arm across her shoulder. “You’ve got time.”

 --

For someone who made things, she sure wasn’t good at wrapping them.  

It was nearing midnight on Christmas Eve, and Jinx and Ekko were sprawled out on the carpet of the living room. Scrap pieces of wrapping paper were torn around them in pieces, with ribbons and bows and nametags burrowed and abandoned between them.

The week had been a blur of chaos. But now, at least Jinx had the relief of Vi knowing about Isha. Vi supporting her. She hated to admit it, but the feeling still helped.

The TV was a dim hum that lulled the room, and Jinx was handing Ekko tape while he carefully wrapped.

They’d gotten Isha a few more gifts; a stuffed bear, some candy, and a new pair of shoes — the kind that lit up at the soles when you stepped down hard on the ground.

“I can’t believe they still make these,” Ekko mused. He was curling a piece of wrapping paper, folding it onto the shoebox and taping it down. “I swear, you used to own a million of ‘em when we were kids.”

“I owned two .” Jinx glared, playing with a piece of tape in her hands — folding and unfolding. “Vander wouldn’t get me any more — said I also needed normal shoes.”  

Ekko laughed a little too loud — Jinx was sure he almost woke Isha, and she didn’t need her stumbling in while they were wrapping her gifts.

“Remember when you cried — I think it was fifth grade, right? — ‘cause he wouldn’t let you dye your hair blue before picture day.”

God, how could she forget . She’d had a full-blown meltdown the night before — pounding her fists against the floor. Her hair was once a thin, dull mousy brown. Nothing like Isha’s — less thick, more weary. And an awful set of bangs, too — crooked and choppy.

Vi had cut her hair short when she was twelve — almost a buzzcut, a week before picture day — and Jinx had gotten jealous. Always wanting, so badly, to be like her sister. She’d cried that time, too, until Vi caved in and gave her a matching, croppy tuft of bangs at the middle of her head.

Then Powder saw what it looked like — uneven and tattered — and cried even harder. For whatever reason, she’d been so sure blue hair would fix it all. Make it look better.

She tugged at a braid and smirked, winking. “Well, some things never change, I guess."

The memory had punctured something hard, and Jinx wasn’t sure why. Her mind lingered on the way Vander had held her close while her sobs boiled down.

“ You can do watchu want when you’re older, Powder. But the brown stays for now, yeah?” He’d patted at her head and smiled. “Besides, you look just like your mother — wouldn’t want to change that, hm?”

She forgot, sometimes, that Vander knew Mom. As a kid, the thought made her jealous. Wasn’t fair that Vander got to know her longer than she had — got to remember.

 She was too little, and she mostly remembered Mama’s smells. Fuzzy whispers and droopy lullabies. Mom’s face was a hazy blur — she’d have to look at a picture soon to remember. Commit each freckle and crease to memory until it slipped from her again.

She didn’t like looking too long — too often. It made the voices worse.

But she didn’t need a photo to remember Vander. Clear as day, he was — the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the broad jaw, the brown, sandy hair. The way he always felt warm — not like Ekko, but huskier. Like malty beer and cigar smoke.

God, she could still smell it now, if she tried hard enough. And the memory, suddenly, threatened to choke her.

“Jinx?” Ekko was looking at her weird. He must’ve been calling her name for a while now. “You with me?”

She used the thin, useless blade of the scotch tape holder to tear at a piece of skin by her nail.

“Do you think of Benzo a lot?” She wasn’t sure why she’d said it, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Ekko swallowed hard. He was silent for a while, but he kept his eyes on her, and she knew his mind was wandering where hers just had — deep in those memories. Ekko was seventeen when Benzo died, though. He didn’t have to reach as far back to find them. But maybe that made them hurt more.

“Every day, I think.” Ekko slotted Isha’s present down, bow and all. “I’m sure you think of Vander just as much.”

“Try not to.” Jinx pursed her lips.

Ekko nodded slowly, leaning back on his palms, fists burrowed in the carpet. “Doesn’t really work, does it?”

Jinx didn’t answer. She picked at the scotch tape holder again.

She could feel Ekko watching her, waiting for something — an explanation, maybe. But what was there to say?

“Not really,” she admitted eventually, her voice quieter than she expected.

Ekko shifted, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the carpet. Their arms were brushing, his pinky inching closer and closer to her own.

“You know,” he started, hesitating just enough to make Jinx glance at him, “I used to think if I could just help enough people — save enough lives in that hospital — that it would make up for the hole he left in my chest when he died.”

Jinx understood well enough. After Vander died — after Vi took the blame for the accident — she’d resorted to building. Fixing. Then ruining what she made — breaking it. Then fixing it again, making it better.

She wasn’t sure what it meant or why she did it, only that if she did it enough, that throbbing inside of her would dull, just a little — numbed. But not gone. Never gone.

Jinx let out a breath. “Did it?”

Ekko looked at her and smiled, though it wasn’t the same kind. This one was sadder, softer. Made from years of knowing . “What do you think?”

Jinx wanted to make a quippy remark — something snarky, something Jinx would say. But nothing could find her, so she settled for draping a hand onto Ekko’s.

For a second, Ekko froze — his eyes darted low to where their fingers brushed on the carpet. He turned his hand over, his palm brushing against hers, his fingers curling between her own.

They’ve held hands a million times before, but this felt weirdly different. Intimate .

Everything about Ekko seemed to feel different lately. Because of their life, now, she assumed. Everything about that was different, too.

Their eyes met, and she could feel the way her breath hitched. His lips were flush and full, and when he opened them, her name fell out like a prayer. “Powder… I —”  

But she never knew what he wanted to say, because behind them she could hear the gentle patter of feet against hardwood, trying hard to tiptoe.

Jinx darted to look behind her and found Isha peeking out from the hallway, tousled strands poking up at the top of her head. Once she realized she’d been caught, she fled back into the shadows.

Ekko’s hand bolted off of hers. He shoved Isha’s wrapped gifts under the couch where she couldn’t see them. Then he cleared his throat, his breath quick. Their eyes wouldn’t meet.

“Isha,” Ekko called out. A tiny gasp escaped from the hallway. His voice was playful when he asked, “what are you doing up?”

Isha sluggishly peeked her head back out from behind the wall, blinking slowly before fully wandering over. She dropped low on the carpet next to Ekko, looking at the scissors and the scraps of wrapping paper.  

She pointed down at all the stuff and gave a questioning look.

Jinx watched as Ekko scrambled for an excuse. “We were just wrapping some things up for Jinx’s sister.”

Isha frowned, slouching. She signed something Jinx had only retained because it was the middle of December, and Isha’d already signed it a few times this week. Santa?

Jinx grinned — the kid meant business. “Santa doesn’t show ‘til you’re asleep, Isha — that’s like a law.”

Isha looked unconvinced, and she stared their pathetic, toothpick of a Christmas tree down as if Santa would pop out of thin air.  

After a minute, Ekko sighed, heaving Isha up from her elbows, and the girl whined in defiance. He half-dragged her to her bedroom, and Jinx couldn’t help the laugh that fled from her throat. “C’mon, back to bed or he won’t show at all.”  

That night, Jinx dreamt of Vander. Not in the ways she usually did — not with the blood or the screams. But Vander as himself — whole and good. Unbroken. For the first time, it felt more like a visit than a curse.

The next morning, while Isha unwrapped her gifts — her face brightening at every single one — Jinx pushed the question aside:

(Was this what Vander felt once, too? )

--

Vi and Cait lived in the kinda place you saw on TV.

An old, Victorian-style home tucked at the centre of a quiet street in Pacific Heights. Panelled blue and white walls, broad columns that curled at their ends, weaving into wide, open windows. A peaked, elongated roof. Castle-like.

Pretty, blurred Christmas lights winded and coiled on the iron staircase railing, flashing dainty pinks and yellow-whites. It was only five thirty, but the sun had already set — each dipping, winding street beamed only from headlights or brightened holiday ornaments.  

Isha ran her hand against the tiny crests of lightbulbs on the railing, awed at the way each one beamed yellow beneath her palm. She’d brushed her hair for extra long today — though still, that waned cap sat steady on her head. Its original black color had long faded, Ekko could tell — turned, instead, into a softened gray. 

Behind her, Jinx hauled a few bags of gifts while Ekko handled the rest. Most were for Isha, but of course, they’d gotten some things for Vi and Cait, too. A bottle of Amaretto — Vi’s favourite liquor — and an air fryer, too. Mostly for Cait, who often said she didn’t like touching the oven if Vi wasn’t home. There was a bottle of wine in there, too, for the Kiramman’s — Caitlyn’s parents.  

Jinx clutched the presents close, towing them to her chest as she climbed up the stairs. “Kid, ring the doorbell for us, would ya?”

Isha — always eager to please Jinx, it seemed, (though Jinx still wouldn’t admit it) — quickened her pace. She stood high up on her tiptoes to reach the doorbell, her finger barely brushing the button as she pressed down hard.

The door swung open. Cait stood behind it. Her hair was loose today — though pinned back, still, with curled pieces framing her jaw. She was wearing some red, silk dress to mark the occasion.

Isha staggered back, pressed against Ekko’s legs. She’d probably been expecting Vi, who she’d at least met once. Cait, really, was an absolute stranger.

Cait, meanwhile, knew well enough of Isha. Really, she’d helped more than Ekko thought she would in the fostering process. 

She shot the girl a tiny, taut smile, then drew her gaze to Ekko. Her look was knowing. Drawing herself aside, she beckoned them forward at the threshold.

“Oh, merry Christmas! Come in!” Her eyes darted to Jinx, and that smile she bore faded fast. Jinx was already wearing a sour look — brows pinched. Ekko swallowed hard.

“Jinx.” Cait motioned to the presents she held. “Let me help you with those.”

“’M fine,” Jinx mumbled, stepping in after Isha.

Ekko, meanwhile, had no problem with letting Cait grab the pile from his hands once he wandered inside.

The whole place smelled rich and thick — like it’d been poured over with cranberries and cinnamon and sugar — and everything seemed to glow. Long, thin candles burned, wax melting down into their gold, dainty holders. The soft strum of music hummed from the dining room.

At his left, somewhere in the living room, Cait was dropping their presents down under the tree. It was a proper tree — not at all like the one they had back home — big and thick and swallowed by ribbons and ornaments. Jinx was already there, too, slotting Isha’s gifts together in a pile. Her pale face was tawny from the tree’s lights — blue hair deep and shiny.

She looked pretty, wearing a different coat than she usually did — an old, long, black one she wore often in college when the days were longer, colder. She’d shucked some different kind of lipstick on, too, Ekko saw — a dewy, hollow red. Different from her usual deepened, bruise-like purple.

  …Not that he’d noticed her lips. Not that he’d paid too much attention. It was only… different . And he knew Jinx too well — knew every peak and crevice. It’d be stranger, really, if he didn’t notice differences — didn’t notice changes.

Isha, meanwhile, hovered close by Ekko. She was looking around in that way she did on her first day home — soaking up details, clinging to niceties.

Cait, finished with the presents, made her way towards the bar cart. “Would you like some juice, sweetheart — cranberry?”

For a second, Isha looked around, like the question was for someone else. Then, realizing it was directed at her, she flushed, nodding.

Cait poured her a cup and handed it over, then shot a glance between Ekko and Jinx. She looked antsy. “Wine?”

Jinx sprouted from her crouch by the tree. “The whole bottle, actually.”

Cait had her back towards Jinx, and while she couldn’t see the scowl at her lips, Ekko sure could.

Desperate to cut through the tension, Ekko spoke. “I’ll have a glass, too.”

Cait, for a second, froze mid pour — too much wine jutted out from its bottle and into the glass, spilling over. Jinx plucked it straight from Cait’s grip, sipping greedily. “Generous pour, thanks.”  

Before Ekko could question it, two hands lunged for his shoulders.

“Merry Christmas!” Vi stood, dressed in some corny, green Christmas sweater — a decorated tree woven into the middle of the thick, floppy fabric. It took a second for Ekko to realize the thing even glowed. 

Isha giggled at the sight of it, and Vi reached out to nudge at her cap the way Jinx liked to do. Isha looked shocked, almost — like Vi’s little tap meant she was in on some kind of secret.

“Lots of gifts I see,” Vi urged. She nudged Isha forward, pressing her to go look. “Lots with your name on it, y’know.”

Eyes widening, Isha peered forward, looking down at the pile Jinx was making. Stuff from home, but lots of stuff from Cait and Vi, too — bags and boxes, all wrapped-up neat and finished off with a pretty, centered bow.

Caitlyn’s wrapping, of course.

Jinx walked over and Vi drew her into a hug, her hands cupping the back of Jinx’s head. When she pulled away, she was beaming. She pointed at the pile of presents.

“There’s more where that came from, by the way.”

Vi beckoned Ekko, Jinx and Isha towards the door to the garage. Together, they walked down the darkened narrow steps.

For a while, you couldn’t see a thing. Then Vi flipped on the light.

“Ta-da!”

Really, Ekko wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking at. Vi’s garage was pretty clean — nothing too special in it. Two pairs of skates hung from a burly nail on the wall. A lawnmower was tucked by a massive, white freezer. And, taking up most of the garage —

Vi’s car.

A 2007 Subaru Impreza, dull and blue, matted from age. Its paint was chipped at each corner, and one of its backdoor handles was missing. But still, this thing was Vi’s baby .

Ekko gaped. “Your…Subaru?”

Vi clasped at his shoulder. She fished for the keys in her jacket and dropped them into his hands. “ Your Subaru now, actually.”

“Huh?” Jinx’s brows knotted together. She looked at Vi in disbelief. “But you love this crappy, old thing.”

“I know, but Cait’s got another car and I live close enough to work anyway.” Vi shrugged. “Besides, you guys’ll need this crappy, old thing more than me.”

Jinx looked doubtful, her eyes trailed on Isha, who was peering inside through the window, her forehead pressed against the glass.

“Vi,” Ekko pled, “we can’t take this.”

Across from him, Jinx looked like she was sulking. She didn’t seem too keen on wanting this gift either, and he knew she thought Cait had some weird kind of play in this.

Which, probably she did — she’d been begging Vi to get rid of this damn car for months now. But he had to admit that the Subaru would be useful. Convenient. It’d get them places faster — help with groceries. Get Isha to school.

“You can take it, and you will,” Vi insisted, winking. “Don’t you know it’s rude to reject a gift? C’mon, who raised you, Little Man?”

Ekko laughed at the childhood nickname — he was shorter than Powder was when they were kids, and Vi always liked to rub it in.

For a while, he hesitated. Cait was looking down at them from the top of the stairs, leaning against a column. She gave him a hasty nod — one he figured meant, just take it .

Ekko sighed. This was for Isha’s sake.

He reached over and pulled Vi into a hug, keys dangling against the flat of her back. Across from Vi’s shoulder, Ekko watched as Jinx shot a glance up at Caitlyn, scowling.

This was going to be a long night.

  --  

Vi’d outdone herself, really.

She started with appetizers — balsamic-glazed bruschetta, tomato and mozzarella balls wedged on skewers, mini apple sausages, drenched thick with honey. A basket of fresh, steaming bread was lodged at the centre of the table, nestled between two flickering candles.

Isha sat closely between him and Jinx, ravenously reaching at everything she could. It looked almost like Jinx and Ekko hadn’t fed her for a week, and Cait was starting to look like she was questioning it — her eyes widened at how Isha clawed for a roll of bread.  

Jinx reached out for her. She dropped it down on Isha’s plate.

“Sheesh kid, pace yourself.” She tried to sound reprimanding, but the smile that tugged at her mouth gave her away.

Across the table, Vi looked honoured — she peered at Isha’s full plate and grinned.

“Glad someone appreciates all my hard work.”

Isha stared at Vi, shrinking low into her seat with a sheepish smile.

“It’s delicious, love,” Cait hummed, poking at a piece of skewered tomato with her fork. Jinx, meanwhile, shoved the whole thing in her mouth and shucked the skewer back clean.

Cait gave her a crooked look.

Isha, meanwhile, widened her gaze — she looked impressed — and before she got any ideas, Ekko used his fork to slug tomato and cheese off the brochette and down onto her plate. The last thing he needed was for Isha to choke on her food in front of Cait, who’d already questioned Jinx’s abilities with her.

Ekko cleared his throat, eager to change the subject. “Where are your parents?”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted the Kiramman’s here or not. On one hand, two extra voices might’ve helped drown the tension. But those voices were often even more pinched than Cait’s — less forgiving.  

“London, actually.”

  Jinx chewed sluggishly at a piece of bread. Next to her, Isha reached for her own roll, trying to chew the same. “You didn’t wanna join ‘em?”

Cait sucked in a breath, watching Isha closely. “No, I wanted to be with Vi.”

Jinx mocked. “Cute.”

God, Ekko wanted to disappear. The tension could be cut with a knife.

Vi must’ve felt it, too — who wouldn’t ? She shot up from her seat and reached for the emptied plates at the middle of the table, nearly knocking a candle from her speed.

 “Hey, let me get the meat!” She said. “Some help, Cupcake?”

Cait shot up. “Yes, darling, of course.”

Together, they left the room, and Ekko was pretty sure they were arguing in the other room. He caught Jinx leaning towards the kitchen’s open archway in her seat, like she could catch onto bits and pieces of sentences. But the hum of the music droned too loudly, and the fireplace crackled over any hushed whispers.

And then Vi was coming back, holding three plates — one slung on her forearm like a waitress — and she slid each one in front of the three of them, the smell of gravy wafting.

Beef wellington, Ekko realized — cooked to perfection, really. Next to it, buttered green beans and roasted potatoes. He could’ve salivated.

Isha, meanwhile, poked at its pink middle with her fork, unsure. Ekko reached over and cut the meat into pieces for her. Suddenly, he was glad she might’ve stuffed herself on appetizers. She didn’t seem to care much for the meat.

“If you want,” Vi whispered, coming close to Isha’s shoulder, noticing the apprehension, “I can make you some mac and cheese, so you just say the word, okay?”

“It’s fine, Vi,” Ekko brushed. She already cooked so much, and Isha’s arrival hadn’t exactly been something she was given much of an advance on — he couldn’t give Vi another reason to burden herself. “Isha’ll try it.”

Jinx perked up. “Can I have mac and cheese?”

Vi flicked at Jinx’s braid. “No chance, Pow-Pow.”

While Vi retreated to the kitchen, Ekko leaned low.

“Eat just a little, Isha,” he murmured. “Then we can open some presents.”

Isha still seemed unconvinced — though she perked up a little at the mention of presents. She fiddled with a green bean on her dish, then dropped her fork to sign something. For the first time, Ekko felt like all that time he’d spent poring over the sign book paid off.

Looks weird, Ekko.

She couldn’t sign his and Jinx’s names in full yet, so she settled for signing the first letter. E for him, J for Jinx.

On Isha’s right, Jinx tugged at the girl’s cap, earning a giggle. She leaned close. “Just eat the pastry, kay? That’s the best part anyway, right Ekko?”

She was looking at him with wild, teasing eyes — wide and loose from all the drinking, he figured. Her lips were smudged, stained red from wine and lipstick. Her cheeks were flushed from the crackle of the fireplace tucked at the corner of the room, and her braids had come undone in parts, mollifying her.  

She seemed less tense now, with Cait not hovering so close.

Ekko swallowed hard. “Right.”

Isha was darting her eyes between them, dissecting in that way she always seemed to.

Her attention derailed once Cait and Vi sat back down with their own plates, urging everyone to eat. Slowly, Isha picked at the flaky part of her dinner, eating it in bits and pieces, like Jinx had asked, and chewed slowly amidst the silence that engulfed them.

Soon enough, a tight throat cleared itself.

“Isha,” Cait started. She was looking at the girl with a candid smile. “So, what is it that you like to do for fun?”

Isha shrugged. She pushed at a piece of potato with her fork.

“When I was your age, I started playing piano.” She smiled. “Do you like music?”

Isha shrugged again, looking over at Ekko like he’d know the answer for her. Cait stared, waiting for some kind of response. Next to Isha, Jinx looked suddenly defensive — her gaze hardened on Cait.  

“She likes to draw,” Jinx said, then she dropped her gaze to Isha and her tone shrank low — bordering on affectionate. “On the walls of her bedroom, too. Little rascal.”

She poked at Isha’s cap again, and the girl smiled.

“The walls of her room?” Cait looked at Jinx, utterly bewildered.

Jinx grinned — she seemed happy to displease Cait.

“It’s fine.” Ekko forced a laugh. “It’s nothing we can’t paint over.”

Cait didn’t seem so content with the response. “Well, what if she does it at school, given you haven’t stopped it at home?”

“We’ll deal with it, if that happens,” Ekko said. At the same time, Jinx added, “some color in a classroom wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Cait plucked at a piece of green bean with her fork, biting into it. Vi, meanwhile, tensely sipped a mouthful of wine.

“And school?” Cait went on. “Are you keeping her where she is?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Ekko said. His tone was tight. “We’ll be looking at our options in the new year.”

“That might be hard on her, don’t you think?” She meant it genuinely, Ekko knew, but she was saying it in ways that reminded Ekko of why Jinx was always so annoyed at her — why he’d almost turned away that first day he came to her, asking for help. “Changing schools. After all, she did just change homes, too.”

Jinx looked like she wanted to implode, and Ekko made to speak before she could.

“The school is far.” He clutched at his fork — tight, tight, tight. “Daly City, so we might just opt for one in our area."

“Well, I’m sure the car will come in handy, then — no matter what you choose.” Cait smiled into her plate, and from the corner of his eye he could see Jinx’s glare.

She scoffed, sucking at the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, I’m sure you feel real proud about that one.”

Cait’s head snapped up. “I’m sorry?”

Vi’s voice was sharp — a spear through the heart. “ Powder .” The name was a warning on her lips.  

“So proud of yourself for helping us, aren’t you?” Each word dripped with such sarcasm; it could’ve leaked on the floors. “‘Cause Ekko and I — we’re so unprepared for this — we needed you to step in so badly.” 

Cait let out a breath. Ekko felt guilt twine in his chest. He had needed Cait’s help. Not anymore, sure — but to quicken the process, for legal advice.

Cait’s voice was a whisper — thick, incredulous. “You really assume the worst of me.” 

Vi was looking at her with softened empathy and something else. Something like pity.

But where Cait was stern whisper, Jinx was all shrill shout.  

“Oh! And pot meets kettle!” Jinx dropped her fork down to the table and it clanged — the sound of silverware reverberated out through the room, and Ekko winced hard. “Like you aren’t sitting here like some bitchass social worker — questioning, testing me — you trynna get the kid sent away, or something? Think we’re mistreatin’ her?”  

Between them, Isha had started to whine. Ekko reached over to press a reassuring hand at her shoulder.  

“Of course not!” Cait’s face twitched. “In fact, I think Ekko is doing a great job.”

Ekko nearly groaned out loud. She was still on this thing — about Jinx being unfit . But God, if she was so adamant about it, why the hell had she helped him at all — if she was only going to throw it back in Jinx’s face?  

 “Jinx is doing a great job, too — really.” His voice was practically a plea — though still stern, unwavering.

“Don’t bother, Ekko.” Jinx waved a hand. “She can’t see past it.”  

Cait shook her head — confusion webbed at every feature. “Past what ?”  

“I know exactly what you see when you look at me. Down on me.”  

“And what’s that? Enlighten me!”  

Jinx snarled. The words poured out like relief — like she’d been wanting them to spill over for too long. “Some fuck up — the reason for all of Vi’s suffering in juvie!”  

“Powder!” Vi shot. Her voice was pained, and she looked at Jinx with just as much hurt. “That’s not true.”

Cait scoffed, reaching for the rim of her glass and tugging it close in the way Isha would with her bunny.

“Obviously, you and I have our differences. We’re both well aware of this. But have you ever considered that this — all this you feel for me ­—” she waved her wine glass and motioned it between her and Jinx — “is only a reflection of how you see yourself — how you think I always see you — that it’s all a projection ?”

Jinx’s face was red — her mouth had curled up. And for a second Ekko thought she was going to lunge across the table, pounce at Cait like some feral animal.

But before anyone could move — before anyone could speak —the sound of wood scratching floorboard pierced through the air — a chair screeching back, quick.  

Next to Jinx, Isha stood, her face just as hard and just as red. Only hers was laced with something else —some kind of timid anxiety.

She signed something with shaking, rigid hands. Her eyes were centered on Cait, but they trailed on Vi, too — narrow, lodging.  

Stop .

Cait and Vi didn’t know a thing about sign, really, but the act was done with such conviction they hardly needed it to understand what Isha meant.

Isha lodged herself back down on her seat, then dragged her chair closer to Jinx. For a second, Ekko was scared Jinx would shuck her away — jump off. But Jinx only froze, letting Isha sit by her like some tiny, quiet guard dog.

For a while, they sat in silence. Cait downed the rest of her drink and Jinx did the same, purple red dribbling down onto her chin.  

Vi, meanwhile, slammed her fork down against the table. She let out a bitter laugh of disbelief, standing with her dish, making way to leave the room.

She grumbled and turned her back. “Way to give the kid a good Christmas.”

--

They didn’t bother opening any presents. Instead, Vi helped Ekko tuck the gifts into the trunk while Jinx stored leftovers on the floor of the passenger’s seat.

Cait stayed upstairs — cleaning, she’d mumbled — while Isha buckled herself up in the backseat. She didn’t seem too upset over the presents, she’d opened enough this morning anyway. After picking at a few more pieces of pastry from her beef wellington, she tugged at Jinx’s sleeve and signed something — a question; home ?

Jinx nodded, feeling ready enough to leave herself. “Yeah, kid. We’re goin’.”

While Ekko pulled out, Vi hovered at the door of the garage and waved the three of them a goodbye. She hadn’t even tried with a hug — they could hardly even meet each other’s eyes right now, and Jinx felt guilty for it.

The first few minutes of the ride were hell. Ekko turned the radio on, and the familiar croon of Silent Night fled the crackling, ancient speakers of Vi’s — their — Subaru.  

The voices clawed inside her head, wanting out so bad — pounding at the walls of her mind like fists at a door, reverberating. Needing release.

Her breath quickened fast, barrelling — everything felt cold, cold, cold until…warmth.  

Ekko’s hand draped across hers. His eyes were still glued to the road, but he clutched at her fingers and didn’t mind the dry blood that crusted at the dead skin of her nails. He traced each of her knuckles, pressing down, grounding.

She kept her gaze locked on him, soaking him up. The brake lights on the road blazed red, bouncing onto the softness of his skin, making him dewy. His lashes were so long — straight and thick and husky, and they brushed low against his cheekbones when he blinked, fanning out.

She was overcome, suddenly, with the oddest urge to lunge at him. Latch on to his neck and never let go — burrow herself deep inside, where everything was warm. But he was driving — and she was probably a little drunk, anyway — so she settled for lacing their fingers together instead, squeezing.

Ekko’s breath hitched and Jinx pretended not to notice how that made her heart beat twice as fast before cooling back down.

From the rear-view mirror, Jinx caught Isha’s sleepy stare trailing between them. A tiny smile bloomed on her face, and she shut her eyes, nestling into Lepus, who’d spent the evening in the backseat, waiting for Isha’s eager return.

Lucky bastard — didn’t have to see all that mess.

Jinx and Ekko’s hands stayed clasped for the rest of the ride — for all fifteen minutes. Then eventually, Ekko found a tight, wedged spot right at the corner of their street and put the car in park.

He shut the engine off, and for a little while, they sat in silence amongst the dim glow of lamplight. Ekko shot a glance in the rear-view mirror, squeezing Jinx’s hand one last time before letting go.

“Can you take her?” He asked. “I’ll get the presents from the trunk.”

Jinx looked across her shoulder. Isha was passed out in the backseat, her head resting on the foggy, frosted window.

“Yeah,” Jinx murmured. She stepped outside and hovered while the wind bit cold at her cheeks. Isha was fully pressed against the door, and Jinx wasn’t sure how to get her out without having the girl drop down like a rag doll in her sleep.  

There was one way, she figured.

Sighing, she leaned low while forcing the door open, hauling Isha straight into her arms.

  As if on instinct, tiny hands twined themselves around her neck. Jinx reached forward, unbuckling the seatbelt. She stood, nearly stumbling, carrying Isha close.

Isha nuzzled deeper, digging her cheek into the fuzz of Jinx’s jacket.

“Gotta wake up now, kid. Get in your PJ’s, hm?” Jinx shook Isha gently, though it felt more like she was rocking her. “C’mon, lay off me.”

Jinx looked down and found Isha awake — tired, copper eyes peering up at her — but instead of letting go, she only tightened her grip. Her head wobbled lazily against Jinx’s chest.

Jinx sighed. She carried her up a flight of stairs and fought to get her down while Ekko lodged the key into its lock. But Isha didn’t budge — refused to let go until Jinx dropped her down onto her bed, sinking into the pillowy pattern of her duvet.

“Isha, don’t you want to open what’s left of your presents — relish in all that materialistic, Christmas glory.”

She didn’t motion for anything. Not to kick off her shoes or change out of her overalls. Instead, she burrowed closer, ready to sleep just like this, if she had to. Sheesh, if the kid was too tired for presents then she must really be exhausted.

Ekko stumbled at the doorway, holding Lepus. He dropped her down by Isha’s pillows, laughing at how Isha curled into herself, half-asleep.  

“Want me to take care of it?”

Jinx sighed. Ekko’d basically taken care of bedtime every night since Isha’s arrival.

She might as well. And besides, she owed the kid, now — though she still couldn’t wrap her head around what it was that made Isha like her so much.

“It’s fine.” She groaned. “Take it as an extra Christmas gift.”  

They hadn’t gotten each other much anyway — agreed on spending most of their funds on Isha. Jinx got him a new jacket — brown, with white fur at its collar. And Ekko got her some new tools for her workbench at home; a new drill and a torch.

Ekko came close, tugged at a braid; his breath hot at her ear. “Whatever you say, softie.”

“‘M not soft,” she mumbled, while Ekko wandered out.

But she sure didn’t look very tough right now, tugging Isha’s shoes off her feet, then her socks. She helped the girl into her pajamas, then made her crawl beneath the duvet as opposed to laying floppily atop it.

Jinx thought about making Isha get up and brush her teeth, too, but the girl could hardly stand on her own two feet without leaning against Jinx. She would just have to do it tomorrow.

Right as she moved to leave, Isha sleepily flailed around, her hands aimlessly reaching for that damn bunny, but pawing only at the air. Jinx placed Lepus down into her arms, and Isha finally let out a sigh of relief.

Her breathing evened out so impossibly quick, and Jinx wondered if she fell asleep just as easily when she was seven.

That was when she still lived with Vander — when she’d still crawl into bed with Vi when she had nightmares — so maybe.

There was a thick strand of hair at the centre of Isha’s face, tangled with her eyelashes. Jinx wanted to let it be — to leave it alone. But Isha kept trying to puff it off her face in her sleep, and the sight was practically pathetic.

Whatever. She’d gone soft enough tonight. What was one more?

She reached over to tug the strand away from Isha’s face, and even in sleep the girl somehow found a way to tunnel closer, drooping against her open palm.

Playing Mommy, Vi’d said.

God, if only Vi saw her now. She’d be done for.

--

Ekko was changing when Jinx barged in.

She didn’t bother knocking — she only slammed the door open and closed again — crawling onto his bed without a word, and Ekko shoved his top down over his head quick.

Jinx didn’t seem phased — the pajamas she wore were thin and short — a white tank top that rode up her stomach and some striped, purple shorts that were too baggy at the thighs. No kidding she was always so cold.

He sat down next to her, attentive — already knowing what she was here for.

“God, I hate her.” Jinx hadn’t said a name, but Ekko didn’t need one.  

He sighed, then folded himself beneath the duvet and beckoned Jinx to join him. “ Jinx .”  

“I do!” She slammed her fist down against the mattress, but nonetheless let Ekko tug her beneath the blankets. He kept the light on, so he could see each crease and bend of her angry, upset face. “Did you see how she — how she gaslit me! Acting like it’s a projection — oh please! Like she doesn’t demean me!”

“Yeah, I mean — yeah, she was definitely condescending.”

“Condescending hardly cuts it.” Jinx scoffed. “She was a complete bitch! Asking all those questions about school — about Isha.”

“I don’t think she meant it so badly.” Ekko thought back to how much Cait had helped the process. Maybe if Jinx knew…. but he couldn’t — not now. She’d never let it go. “She doesn’t realize how she sounds, sometimes.”  

“That’s almost worse.” Jinx muttered. She curled into Ekko, nestling. They hadn’t done this since before Isha first showed, and the touch of her skin so flush against his felt a lot like coming home.

Her cold, taut feet burrowed close atop his calves, and she spilled an arm across his chest. The shirt he wore was so thin, and even through it he could feel the coolness of her arm, the goosebumps rising at the base of his neck.

She spoke against his skin, and her breath smelled of toothpaste and sweet, red wine. “I think I’ll always hate her.”

He swallowed. “You can’t say that, Jinx.”

“Why not?” Jinx murmured. “It’s true.”  

“For Vi,” he said. “She gave us her car — she got Isha all those gifts. She loves you, and she wants your support. She needs it.”

Jinx fell silent at that. Maybe Ekko shouldn’t have brought Vi up, but it was true. Jinx couldn’t spend the rest of her life fighting with Cait — Vi wouldn’t be able to handle it. Jinx would drive herself crazy.

“Whatever.” Jinx dug her nose into his neck. “Shouldn’t have gotten into it in front of Isha, anyway.”  

Ekko brushed his fingertips against the arm draped on his chest. Slow, careful strokes, tracing the blue of her tattoos. “Don’t think she minded it — looked like she wanted to defend you.”

Jinx huffed. “I don’t get it.”

“I told you; she likes you. You make her feel…safe.”

“That’s what I mean. That’s the part I don’t get.” Her voice was a hush, a lull. “I’ve never been safe my whole life.”

He wanted to fight her on it — tell her she wasn’t cursed, wasn’t made of bad luck — but he knew she wouldn’t believe otherwise. Especially not after tonight.  

“Doesn’t matter what you’ve convinced yourself.” Ekko whispered. He pressed his cheek against the crown of her head. “We all feel certain ways about the people in our lives. Those feelings don’t always have to make sense to us.”

Beneath him, Jinx let out a tiny breath — a half-hearted laugh. “What do I make you feel, then, Boy Savior?”

Ekko’s heart drummed in his chest, and he hoped Jinx didn’t feel the quickness of it beneath her shoulder.

He wasn’t sure. Loved , he guessed. They’d said it a million times before, too. Slid it into jokes — into teases. But for whatever reason, the words burned at his tongue now, unable to tumble out. The thought made his skin hot, hot, hot, even beneath Jinx’s constant cold.

So instead, he settled for, “tired.”  

Jinx purred against him and as cold as she was, the feel of her made his skin sting. “Then sleep.”

Chapter Text

The new year bloomed in like a flower—though less pretty, with its thorns thicker than its petals. It was like beauty had come and gone with Christmas, the weather growing ugly once the holiday slipped past. Heavier winds and thicker fog—the kind that leaked down onto streets and colored the whole city a dense, slate gray.

If Isha was disappointed with her Christmas, she didn’t show it.

She went back to her usual ways—poring over the sign book with Ekko ‘til she got too bored of it. Drew while sprawled out on the floor of her room. Clutched at Lepus. Looked at Jinx as if through a microscopic lens; absorbing each detail then applying it to herself—having the kind of breakfast Jinx liked in the morning, gushing in the milk before the cereal. Rolling her eyes when someone said something stupid. Double knotting her shoelaces—though unlike Jinx’s, hers often looked clumsy; crooked.

Ekko would bend down and ask if she needed any help, but Isha was adamant. She liked doing things herself, he realized. Liked feeling independent.

Still, Ekko couldn’t help but feel bad for what happened on Christmas day. They’d rushed home before even having dessert, and while Isha was tired, he was sure she’d have managed to open her presents if they’d stayed just a little longer. If there hadn’t been a fight.

Jinx, unlike Isha, wasn’t masking any upset. She lounged around on the couch all week after Christmas, curled up in a blanket, tinkering with the same old scrap of junk while watching reruns of Jeopardy. That was when Ekko just knew it was bad—Jinx fucking hated Jeopardy.

Often, Isha would sit next to her and absent-mindedly doodle, shooting occasional glimpses at Jinx like she was waiting for her to do something—anything.

Ekko, feeling crappy enough over Christmas, would ask Isha if she wanted to go to the park, take a walk—a drive, even, in their brand new-old Subaru. But Isha would only blink over at Jinx for a response, waiting.

“Go on, kid.” Jinx waved a hand, hardly glancing at either of them. “Get some fresh air in those lungs.”

Isha furrowed her brow. She signed something with slow, deliberate hands. Coming?

Jinx only shook at the piece of scrap she’d been fiddling with.

“I’m a little busy here. Makin’ the next great thing.” She sounded pathetically unenthusiastic. “But don’t let me stop ya.”

Isha—never caring to be where Jinx wasn’t—only turned to Ekko and shook her head no, happily retreating to her doodles. And as much as he hated the lounging, he figured he couldn’t force Isha to do anything she didn’t want to do—even if something like the park would do her some good.

Finally, on New Year’s Eve, Jinx tried to make up for the fact that they had no plans. She ordered a pizza and got them some cheap, too-sweet grocery store cake. They'd stuffed themselves to the point of exhaustion. Isha crashed out at nine thirty—though she’d whined about being able to stay awake—and Jinx and Ekko hardly made it to midnight. Jinx gave him a wet kiss on the cheek and then tumbled off to bed—his bed—waiting for him.

Which was another matter. Ever since Christmas, Jinx would wordlessly crawl into his bed in the way she had the week before Isha’s arrival.

And Ekko didn’t fight it—the opposite, really. He curled up close, twined his arms around Jinx’s body and drew her into him, soaking up all that cold, letting it sting.

It wasn't awkward. It was normal to them—innate.

But for whatever reason, with each day that passed, Ekko was having a harder time believing it. He just tried to ignore it. But it was hard, given sometimes he'd catch Isha giving them sideways glances when they talked, when they joked, when Jinx rested her legs across his lap on the couch.

That morning, over breakfast, Ekko had been worried Isha would finally mention something. She was looking between them with those microscopic eyes, dissecting. But eventually, she settled on nothing—she drank the rest of her cereal milk and retreated to the couch with Jinx, who was already tinkering with that piece of metal again.

The sight almost made him scream. It was January 2^nd, and Ekko just couldn’t take the lazy loafing anymore. It was driving him crazy.

Slapping his mug against the coffee table, he dropped his hands to his hips and stood facing the couch.

“That’s it, get dressed.” He probably looked like someone’s stubborn dad right now, but he didn’t care. “We’ve got plans today.”

Jinx shot him a lazy look, eyeing him up and down. “With who?”

Ekko shrugged. “Each other.”

From her corner of the couch, Isha perked up, those bug eyes wide and curious. She looked excited, really, to have some kind of plans. Even if she didn’t know what those plans were.

“C’mon, get up.” Ekko drew forward to pluck at Jinx’s arms, dragging her to stand. The piece of metal she’d been toying with fell over and lolled against the couch cushions, nestling between the cracks. “You can tinker at work soon enough—y'know, when you’re getting paid for it.”

Eventually, they’d all have to go back to reality. And that reality was coming quick. Ekko went back to the hospital in three days, and Jinx was going back the second they enrolled Isha in a new school, which they’d only just started their search for.

Her voice was a lifeless drone when she asked, “where’re we goin?”

He curled his lip. He had an idea—one he knew Isha would love. “To see some animals.”

--

The California Academy of Sciences stood tall and sleek—hazy and misty beneath the layers of fog. Nestled in the heart of Golden Gate Park, Ekko was more than familiar with the place. He’d visited enough during field trips, what felt like a million years ago.

Jinx wasn’t a stranger to it either. Once, the two of them had gotten high and attended a show at the Planetarium. He wasn’t sure how they hadn’t gotten kicked out—with Jinx audibly wincing and squirming next to him, like the planets were raining down on her.

The museum was pretty busy for a Friday, buzzing with parents who shoved strollers—teenagers with nothing better to do within their last days of winter break. Inside, the air was cooler, laced with a faint, salty tang.

They took their time at each exhibit—Isha favoring the big, white drawers that withheld the neon shells of beetles and butterflies and ugly, clawing bugs, begging Jinx or Ekko to read her each excerpt aloud.

Ekko—ever since childhood—had a preference for the aquarium.

It was quiet, always, and dimly lit—the walls practically made of glowing, dewy water—hazy from massive tanks that stretched from floor to ceiling. Blues and greens and purples shimmered throughout, casting patterns of dancing light across everything it touched.

Isha pressed her hands and nose against the glass, her eyes glued to a school of silvery fish darting through the water.

“Careful,” Ekko murmured, placing a steady hand on her back to keep her from leaning too far.

Jinx stood a few steps behind them, arms crossed while she watched. Despite her usual smirk, her eyes were distant.

Ekko swallowed. He’d really thought that this outing would help all the sulking. And while it’d gotten her off the couch, she still didn’t seem quite like herself. He could tell she was trying not to succumb to the state of her mind for Isha’s sake.

While Isha eyed the sharks, Ekko stepped back. He brushed Jinx’s arm with a knuckle. “You’re being quiet.”

Jinx shrugged, her gaze flicking to a flat, long stingray that slithered along the tank. “Savor this, Boy Savior. It won’t last.”

“Shame,” Ekko teased, his tone light, but Jinx didn’t crack a smile.

He sighed, leaning against a pillar. Isha wasn’t listening—too busy eyeing the tank to pay them any mind—so he figured this was his chance. “This about Christmas?”

Obviously, it was. But he still had to ask.

Jinx flinched at the mention, her shoulders tensing. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“That’s funny,” Ekko said, crossing his arms. “Because I think you need to.”

Jinx glared at him—her thin, purple mouth pinched—but there was no real heat in it.

“I messed everything up,” she muttered, her voice low. “Figures.”

Ekko swallowed hard. He knew this was coming. Really, it wasn’t fully her fault. Cait was pressing buttons, even if she hadn’t meant to either. Sometimes, two people just weren’t made to get along.

“Hey,” Ekko said, his tone firm but gentle. “It’s not the end of the world, okay? Cait said some things, you said some things—”

“Yeah, and then I made us storm out like a psycho—didn’t even have dessert.” Her voice was sharp with self-loathing. “And fuck, I don’t even want to think about texting Vi—she couldn’t even look at me when we left.”

“So then don’t.” Ekko shrugged. “Don’t text her yet. Wait ‘til you’re ready.”

Jinx’s jaw tightened, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Yeah, and when’s that gonna be? After she finally decides I’m not worth the trouble anymore?”

Ekko let out a breath—heavy, long. “You know that’ll never happen. Vi loves you.”

“Whatever.” Her words were quick and clipped. Jinx waved a passive hand. She was done talking about her sister, it seemed. “I just…Isha didn’t need to see that. Shouldn’t have had to get involved.”

“Maybe not,” Ekko said. “But she did it because she cares about you. And I think you’ve caught onto that well enough by now.”

Jinx flushed. He knew she didn’t think she was worth it. But that didn’t matter—whether she believed she was worth it or not, Isha liked her anyway.

“And for the record—” Ekko leaned in close. He plucked a piece of hair from her face. “I care about you, too. Lots, really, in case you forgot. A dangerous amount.”

She raised a brow, her smile turning to something raw, something genuine—something he hadn’t seen in days.

“Believe me, Ekko, I’ll remember that down into my grave.”

--

The morning Ekko left to go back to work, Jinx hardly felt him slip out of bed.

There was a bit of a rustle, some uncurling—then that heat she’d been enveloped in slithered away from her, and instead of laying on hot, warm skin she found herself pressed up against bedsheet and mattress.

She remembered whining a little in reluctance when a warm, solid hand reached to tuck a stray piece of hair from her face.

“Hey, Jinx.” Her name was a whisper. Her eyes peeked open, just a little. Ekko was hovering above her, his breath warm against her face. “I’ll see you at four, okay? Call me if there’s anything—promise?”

She groaned—reached for him, maybe, like she wanted to pull him back in—but she was too tired and too sluggish to use any real force, so she mumbled a lazy promise and winced when the door shut gently behind her.

She fell back asleep after that, maybe for another hour or two—she wasn’t exactly sure when Ekko left, but the screen of her phone read 8:47, and soon enough Isha would be up.

She stepped in the shower and washed her hair as quickly as she could, given how much of it there was to wash. She braided it, then changed into something thick and heavy—one of Ekko’s fleece crewnecks. The apartment was dry and cold today, and as much as Jinx turned up the heater, she just couldn’t seem to warm up.

When she stepped out, Isha was on the couch. She was already dressed in some Snoopy hoodie they’d gotten her for Christmas, with her cap—like usual—slung on backwards.

Jinx made them some cereal, which was hardly a task, given Isha insisted on pouring the milk in herself—then she brewed a cup of coffee and some hot chocolate for Isha, in hopes it’d help them warm up.

“Listen, kid,” Jinx started, setting her mug down. “I gotta get some work done today, ‘kay?”

Heimerdinger had called and asked if she wanted to work on some minor things from home ‘til she was officially ready to get back — which should’ve honestly been some time next week. They had plans to visit a school with Isha tomorrow, then another on Thursday, and the minute they enrolled her, she’d have to start attending. She was already late.

Across the table, Isha nodded, slurping at some hot chocolate.

“So I need you to just hang around and…” she waved a hand, “play, I guess, until I’m done. Then maybe we can watch a movie or something fun.”

Isha frowned. She looked a little disappointed. She signed something familiar, and it took Jinx a minute to place it. They’d done so much poring over that damn ASL book, Jinx was starting to feel impressed with how quick the three of them were learning. It had been almost a month since Isha’s arrival, and they’d gotten further than expected.

After a little while, Jinx realized what Isha’s sign had meant: help?

Jinx’s brows furrowed. “You wanna help me with the prosthetic?”

Isha nodded again, smiling at the idea.

Hm. Jinx considered it. She’d set a rule before Isha even arrived; Isha couldn’t mess with her work stuff. At least…not while she wasn’t around, right? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Isha handed her a screwdriver or two. Really, there was only so much doodling and reading for the girl to do ‘til she got sick of it.

“Fine,” Jinx huffed. “You can play assistant, then. If you really want to.”

She set an extra stool out for Isha in her bedroom, which was already tight enough. Still, they managed. Isha was a pretty good assistant, a quick learner—smarter than Jinx was at that age. She caught onto the names of things quick—what a wrench was, and a clamp, and a drill press. And frankly, Jinx was impressed.

They were in the middle of a water break when Isha asked her that question, completely out of the blue. Jinx hadn’t seen it coming, but this was their first day without Ekko, and honestly she should’ve expected it.

You with Ekko? She could sign their full names by now, but she still used E for Ekko and J for Jinx, as if shortening her sentences.

“What?” Jinx frowned. Jinx knew damn well what Isha meant, but she didn’t want to believe it. So, she fiddled with her screwdriver. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Isha scowled. She wasn’t falling for Jinx’s bullshit and Jinx wasn’t sure if she should’ve been upset or proud. Maybe both.

Isha picked at her book—it was sprawled open across Jinx’s bed, in case Jinx and Isha needed to sign a word they couldn’t remember by heart. She flopped through it, then pointed hard at a photo of a couple.

Dating.

Jinx let out a sigh. Isha knew they weren’t dating—they’d made that clear…right? Apart from the whole sleeping-in-the-same-bed thing. Which tons of friends did anyway, so whatever. They weren’t the first.

“Dating? Sheesh,” Jinx mumbled, “where’d you get that idea?”

Isha smiled giddily. You look at him funny.

Jinx frowned. She didn’t look at Ekko funny at all. She looked at him the way she always had. And sure, maybe it was laced with teasing sometimes, but that was just Jinx.

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t look at him funny. I look at him like...” she gestured vaguely, grasping for words. “Like he’s Ekko. He is funny. And he’s my best friend, that’s all.”

Isha’s hands stilled with hesitation, and for a little while Jinx thought the girl was done with all her questions. Thank God.

Then, with slow movements, she looked up at Jinx with careful eyes. Are we friends?

Jinx froze. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Because Jinx wasn’t meant to be her friend. She was a…caregiver. A guardian. She was responsible for Isha — the one to make sure she ate and slept and washed. Make sure she felt safe.

But Isha was looking at her with those goddamn eyes, and that downturned smile threatened to spill into something worse, and Jinx could feel her heart throb. She was clutching at Lepus in her lap, slouching. With her legs tucked up to her chest, she looked so small—had she always looked this small? She must’ve. People didn’t shrink.

God, Jinx just couldn’t break her heart.

She hooked her ankle at the leg of Isha’s chair, tugging, drawing Isha closer. Leaning in, she pulled down at her cap and dropped her hand at the crown of it.

She gave Isha her most serious face. “‘Course we are.”

Isha smiled, just a little, then hesitated, her lip twitching—anxiety was slipping through the seams of her face, breaching—and then she moved her hands again. Best friends?

Damn it.

Jinx planted her hands on each side of Isha’s face, just enough to twine her fingers in the tufts of hair creeping out beneath Isha’s cap. Isha bent into her so easily, you’d think she’d been held by Jinx her whole life.

“Let’s put it this way, ‘kay?” She smiled, then said, “Ekko should be real scared. Threatened, really. You’re coming for his gig.”

A smile was toying at Isha’s mouth, hesitant. She still didn’t look so convinced. Lying?

“No, I swear it,” she promised. Her voice was abnormally soft, and Jinx felt stupidly vulnerable because of it. “We’re best friends.”

Isha nodded sheepishly, then reached for a wrench after that, more than happy to hand it over.

They sat in silence for a while after that, engulfed by the sound of creaking and cranking. Jinx relished in the nothingness.

And then Isha signed again.

Ekko looks at you funny, too.

“Isha.”

—

Going back to work was harder than Ekko’d expected.

Not because the hospital was busy—which it was, clambering with patients and angry, scared parents—but because he felt a weird sense of…guilt? He knew Jinx would do a great job with Isha on her own, that wasn’t his concern. But he couldn’t help feeling like he was missing out.

That morning, he found his mind wandering. Asking himself what they were doing, if they were okay, if Jinx was getting her work done like she’d wanted to. He’d lift his phone out from where it was tucked in the pocket of his pants, making sure Jinx hadn’t sent him a text.

He was pathetically looking forward to lunch, where he could call home and feel a little less like he was at work—a little more like he was with them.

“Ekko?”

That was Mel’s voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. He twisted around from where he stood by the reception, a pile of paperwork in his hands.

There was a woman next to Mel that he’d never seen—around his age—with dyed, pink-purple hair pinned up at the top of her head, loose curls framing the high, hollow cheeks of her face. She was wearing scrubs—another nurse, he figured? Maybe from another department.

“This is Seraphine,” Mel greeted. “She’s a new hire here in paediatrics. I was wondering if you could show her the ropes?”

Ekko blinked, glancing between Mel and Seraphine. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He dropped the papers he’d been holding on the counter and held out a free hand. “Hey, I’m Ekko.”

Seraphine smiled, reaching out to shake it. Her hand was soft. Warm. So unlike Jinx’s — though he wasn’t sure why he was even comparing.

“Hi.” She flashed him a smile, and her teeth were pearly white. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Everyone says you’re, like, the go-to guy around here.”

Ekko huffed a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck and rolling his shoulders. “Oh, yeah? Hope they didn’t oversell it.”

“They didn’t,” Mel cut in. She was already making her way to a patient’s room, shooting Ekko a wink. “Ekko’s great. And he’s going to make sure you’re great too.”

Right. No pressure, or anything.

Left alone, Seraphine rocked on her feet—she looked hesitant, and Ekko couldn’t blame her. It felt weirdly awkward between them, though he wasn’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time he’d helped new hires. But something about her made him…antsy? Maybe it was her smile, still lingering, trailing on him.

“So, uh,” she started, glancing around the bustling hallway. “Where do we start?”

He showed her as much as he could within an hour. Patient’s rooms, waiting areas, the supply closets, always stuffed with bandages and syringes and monitors.

There was the tiniest garden, too, on the outside. Burly, stone statues surrounded by pretty, blooming flowers. Greenery grew from the muddy ground—trimmed shrubs and round bushes—with trees casting shadows across the square slabs of concrete.

Ekko used to take Isha out here when they’d first met, and she needed some fresh air. He sucked in his breath—the thought made his heart almost throb.

“Now this… I can get used to this.” Seraphine whispered. Sunlight poured in through the cracks in the leaves, illuminating her face, streaming down in mismatched fragments. Ekko was suddenly struck by how pretty she was, even in the dullness of her scrubs. Tear-drop face and supple skin, dewy and rosy in the sunlight.

She looked nothing like Jinx—not even with the dyed hair…Not that he was comparing them, again.

“Uh, yeah,” Ekko said. He crossed his arms at his chest and leaned against a tall, stone fountain. “It’s one of the better spots here. Quiet, you know? Keeps you sane on the bad days.”

Seraphine glanced at him, her plump lips curling into a soft smile. “Bad days, huh? You make it sound like there are a lot of those.”

He let out a breath. “There can be. But the good ones… they make it worth it.”

Seraphine drew closer to him by the fountain, sitting against its ledge. “Was this always the dream for you? Being a nurse, I mean.”

“I—sort of?” Ekko shrugged. That was a loaded question from someone he’d only just met, but something about her made the words slip out easy. “I just always knew I liked…fixing things, I guess. Helping people.” He cleared his throat. That was enough about him. “What about you?”

Seraphine let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, no—absolutely not. For most of my life, I was convinced I’d be a global superstar. A singer.”

Ekko grinned. That made sense—she had that thing to her. Easily likeable. Charming.

“Yeah? What changed?”

Seraphine tilted her head, a glint of humor in her eyes. “Reality, I guess. Turns out being a pop star isn’t as easy as it looks on TV.”

“No sold-out stadiums in your future, huh?”

“Not unless you count karaoke nights.” She was grinning still, and her teeth were so perfectly straight. “But honestly, I think this turned out better for me. I get to help people—truly help—and it feels… real, you know?”

Ekko nodded. Behind him, the water from the fountain rippled faintly under the sunlight, streaming—making everything feel softer, slower. “Yeah, I get that. Helping people—that’s as real as it gets.”

“You and I,” Seraphine mumbled, her gaze steady, “sounds like we’re alike.”

Were they? Maybe…he’d only just met her, and he’d never really dreamed of being a superstar before. But there was a kindness to her already that warmed him—or maybe it was just that pretty face, easing him in.

“Yeah,” was all Ekko managed, “maybe we are.”

While he stumbled off to lunch, Seraphine continued her rounds with Claggor, waving him a reluctant goodbye.

In the staff room, Ekko’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his chest easing when he saw the text from Jinx.

Jinx, 2m ago: isha says hi. she helped me with my prosthetic all morning. she’s actually pretty good with this stuff. btw, we’re officially besties now if you were wondering. miss you.

Ekko loved his job. Really, he did. But God, he couldn’t wait to go home.

--

The fridge light flickered like it always did, casting a low, dwindling glow on everything inside.

Which really wasn’t much. A head of lettuce, some leftover soup. Garlic and onions and carrots. A few apples and peaches. Half a watermelon, twined in saran wrap. Condiments and olives. Some juice and a bottle of rosé. A pack of fruit cups — the ones Ekko got for Isha (the ones that Jinx liked to pick at when no one was looking).

Jinx’s lip curled. God, they were due for a grocery run.

They could settle for the soup, she supposed — but they’d had it with dinner last night, and Jinx was too hungry for salty broth and noodles.

At the table, Isha was tracing the lined wood of their kitchen table with a finger, waiting on Jinx to prep her lunch.

Poor kid didn’t deserve some crappy noodle soup either.

She could make them a PB&J…. Or…

Jinx shut the fridge door with a whoosh, bouncing over to the kitchen with a grin. She reached for her jacket on the coat rack, shucking it on.

“Get your shoes on, Ish.” She beckoned the girl towards the entryway. “We’re gonna grab lunch out.”

Isha bounded up, reaching for her coat from Jinx’s hands. Where?

“Remember Vi?” Isha made a face. “I know you didn’t like that beef she made—me neither, ‘kay? Too fancy. But she makes a real good sandwich. The best. And you’re gonna try one.”

Isha looked hesitant. Jinx wasn’t sure if she now associated Vi to Cait—the lady she’d only met once, who Jinx got in a spat with during Christmas dinner. It wasn’t a very appealing thought, if that was the case, and she didn’t blame Isha for not caring to eat one of Vi’s sandwiches.

Still, the girl obeyed. She slid her shoes on and clumsily double-knotted the laces, trying to mimic Jinx’s fingers when she shucked on her own pair of Doc’s. Then they walked the whole way—which worked out fine. It was foggy and chilly enough, but not in the way it had been that week between Christmas and New Year’s.

The sandwich shop was busy—people were pocketed out at tables, chatting and eating. They hadn’t started renovating yet, so the shop still looked like a vintage McDonald’s in the Midwest. Red, tattered booths and stripped walls and chipped tiles. Regardless, Jinx liked it. The place had character…while Jayce probably wanted to turn the whole thing into some TikTok-viral gimmick.

And speak of the devil. There he was at the register, shoving over someone’s to-go bag.

He caught sight of Jinx and smiled, that white, toothy grin nearly blinding her beneath the fluorescents.

Jayce was a…hard guy to figure out.

He looked like some GQ-model-quarterback-douchebag—some internet hot-boy-of-the-month. He was buff and jacked and good at sports—used to run the football team in high school like the navy, Vi in tow. But he was smart, too—which shouldn’t be fair—everyone knew you were supposed to be good at one or the other, never both. That was just greedy. But he was, and he used to tutor Powder in math and science when she was young, before Vander died.

Really, Jinx didn’t get what he was doing with this restaurant. His whole dream, really, was for it to turn into some classic, trendy San Francisco spot— still, though, something simple and affordable, he’d said once, for locals and tourists alike. To make lives easier. Through…sandwiches and salads and whatever else Vi was cooking up for their new menu.

Vi, meanwhile, was just a naturally good cook. Even when they were kids, she’d prep her lunch better than Vander would. She always knew how to add the perfect ratio of peanut butter and jelly—mayonnaise and mustard. Whatever it was, if Vi made it, it was good. Then she’d gone off to culinary school and somehow became even better. And Jayce knew that, too, and saw Vi as a way of making the shop something special.

Jinx just thought they needed a better name. Because really, “Vijay’s” wasn’t doing them any favors. And it sounded a whole lot like something else.

At the register, Jayce was waving a hand to call them over. He motioned to a pair of empty stools by the coffee bar, urging them to sit.

“Hey, Jinx! Haven’t seen you in a while.” He was already reaching over somewhere below the bar, popping open a can of Mountain Dew and pouring it over a glass full of ice.

“Yeah, well—” she plucked Isha up and hauled her onto a stool— “been a lil’ busy.”

She thanked him for the soft drink, then shot a look over at Isha before turning back to Jayce. “You got some juice?”

Jayce nodded, “apple or orange?” He winked at Isha. “I’ve even got grape.”

Isha smiled, holding up three fingers. Jinx stifled a laugh. “She wants the grape.”

“Wise choice.” Jayce reached over for a straw and plopped into an open bottle of grape juice, sliding it over the counter. He was still wearing that dopey grin. “You must be Isha. Vi’s told me all about you.”

Isha’s brows raised. Jinx’s, too. She hadn’t been expecting that.

Isha’s fingers motioned to sign something, but Jayce only absently stared. He cocked his head a little to the side, unsure. Jinx had to spell it out for him. “She said ‘really?’”

“Oh,” Jayce murmured, recognition clouding his features. “Yeah! She’s been braggin’ non stop. Said her sister’s kid is the coolest one in town.”

Her sister’s kid… her kid. As in…Isha was her kid.

Next to her, Isha was sipping at her juice, looking away. Fuck — was she was embarrassed? It wasn’t like that was true, anyway. Isha wasn’t her kid. Just a kid who lived with her, for now. ‘Til some nice, grown couple decided they needed a daughter to spoil rotten. Take her to Disneyland every weekend, maybe, or whatever it was that middle-aged rich people did for their kids.

Ugh. Isha with some corporate 40-year-old parents, running around some mansion with a labradoodle. That didn’t even feel right.

Jinx almost fumbled out some kind of excuse when—

“Powder?” Vi’s voice chimed out. She was at the threshold of the kitchen, wandering over to the coffee bar. “What’re you doing here?”

“What?” Jinx forced a chuckle. “Can’t two girls be hungry for some of the best sandwiches in the city?”

Vi gave her a weird look. They hadn’t talked in two weeks, and now she was sitting in Vi’s restaurant, mooching off her free sandwiches. But she shouldn’t have been shocked. This was common for Jinx.

Vi turned her attention, instead. The smile that crept up on her mouth was genuine.

“Hey, Isha.” The girl gave her a cautious look, unsure. Then Vi leaned over to tap at her cap the same way Jinx liked to do, and Isha broke out in a grin. “Did you like the book?”

For Christmas, Vi and Cait got Isha some emptied-out comic book you had to color in yourself. Amongst a pile of other things, too—some dinosaur Squishmallow and a firefly nightlight.

Isha’s face wholly brightened, nodding. If she’d had any mixed feelings towards Vi for the whole Christmas thing, she seemed to forget about it swiftly. Jinx laughed, sipping at her drink. “She’s been coloring that thing in since the day she got it.” She shot Vi a cautious smile. “So, thank you...and y’know…your fiancée.”

Vi’s eyes widened. Suddenly, it was like all animosity left between them from Christmas just disappeared. It was like this with Vi. When they fought, there wasn’t an apology. Just something close, something that whispered a semblance of one. Wanna get coffee? Wanna go to the movies? I like your sweater. Your hair looks nice today.

A knowing smile bloomed on Vi’s face. She turned to look at Isha, but Jinx knew those words were just as much meant for her. “Anytime, kid.”

They ordered sandwiches after that, and Vi came over to sit with them while they ate. Isha got something with ham in it, while Jinx munched on a BLT.

“You know,” Jinx smacked between bites of sandwich, “you kinda look like Carmy from the Bear like this—the tats, the apron, all decked out in white.”

Vi laughed. “Well,” she mumbled, “I’ll be due for more white soon.”

Jinx nearly gagged, realizing what she meant. What a way to ruin a good sandwich.

Vi’s attention shifted to Jinx, her smile sly. “You’re still up for it, right? The suit shopping thing?” She nodded toward Isha. “She can come along. Actually… I’d really like her to. It’ll be fun.”

Jinx raised an eyebrow, glancing at Isha, who was practically beaming at the idea of her involvement. The kid loved shopping…unlike Vi.

“Since when do you think shopping is fun?” Jinx asked, leaning back.

Vi shrugged. “Since it’s for my wedding,” she simply said, in a voice so unlike her own— so light and so airy.

There was a beat, a pause filled with something unspoken. She still hated Cait. But she loved her sister.

“Fine. But I get to pick your tie.”

--

They had three schools in mind for Isha, but settled on starting with two. Now that they had a car, they could get away with exploring further options. Not too far out, sure, but schools in nearby boroughs weren’t impossible.

The first was Piltover Academy—some highly-reputable school in Cait and Vi’s neighborhood, hardly twenty minutes away. A little further out than they’d planned, but the school was well renowned and worth a visit.

It was nestled on a quiet street, in a woodsy area where the air felt fresh and salty.

But Jinx wasn’t sure about this one. They had uniforms—though they weren’t even a private school—which really told her everything she needed to know. But they were well rated, and when consulting Sky, she said it’d be a great choice.

So that was how they found themselves in the waiting room, Isha tucked between them, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. Ekko was trying to crack some jokes to cheer her up, but the kid could hardly manage a smile.

“Mr. Turner—Miss Lane?” Jinx’s head snapped up. There was a man standing at the threshold of the waiting room, decked out in suit pants and some hideous, patterned blazer. Ekko had asked Jinx to dress up a little, but all she’d managed was a white tee and some blue jeans, relying on her long, black coat to force an illusion of professionalism.

Ekko hardly had to try. He always looked good—especially now, with his white locks tucked back atop the collar of his brown, sleek leather jacket. But he also did a much better job at holding himself together than she did when it came to acting...mature.

“I’m Principal Salo,” the man greeted. Ekko stood to shake his hand, then—with major reluctance—Jinx motioned to do the same. Isha, meanwhile, stayed in her chair, watching the interaction with caution. “Welcome to Piltover. It’s lovely to have you.”

Ekko cleared his throat, and Jinx knew he was gonna put on that voice. The one he used for work phone calls and tax meetings—deep and solid. “Likewise.”

Jinx stifled a laugh. Yup. There it was.

Salo shot a look between them, finally looking at Isha and reaching out to shake her hand. She wasn’t wearing her cap today, and Jinx had tried to tame all that thick hair on her head. She’d done her best, pinning back parts of it with little butterfly clips.

“You must be Isha, yes?”

Isha sat frozen. Ekko nudged at her shoulder, urging her to stand. “S’okay, Ish. You can say hi.”

Eventually, the girl took Salo’s hand—though not before tucking herself close to Jinx’s leg—and signed a quick, timid, hello.

Salo’s face grew pinched, just for a second, before he shifted back to that tight, plastic smile. Jinx squinted at him.

“She…doesn’t speak?”

Ekko shook his head. “She’s nonverbal, but she signs. Really well, actually. She’s a quick learner.” Ekko ruffled at her hair with affection, trying not to knock out any of the clips at her scalp.

Salo held up a finger to his chin. “Is she in speech therapy?”

“Twice a month,” Ekko shrugged. “But we practice ASL every day.”

“I see,” Salo said. “Wonderful.”

He looked oddly hesitant, and Jinx bit down hard on her lip not to bark out some insult right then and there. But she didn’t want to jump the gun—ruin it for Isha. Didn’t want to jinx it. Maybe she was imagining things. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Salo showed them around the school, which was frankly massive. It had four floors, two gyms, a pool, and three different dining areas. The schoolyard was circled by tall, branching trees that hid the place away from the rest of the world.

The library was especially enormous—with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, sunlight pooling in against sleek, red carpets.

“Think you’d like it here, Isha?” Ekko asked, glancing down at her with a soft smile. “Looks like they’ve got some pretty cool books in there.”

Isha’s fingers hovered near her chest, uncertain. Her gaze darted around the room—at the students, at the librarian’s sharp, assessing eyes—and then back down to her shoes. She didn’t sign anything.

“Don’t worry,” Jinx muttered. Isha was hovering so close to her legs, Jinx nearly tripped on her twice. “They’re just books. You’ve got better ones at home anyway.”

Eventually—happily—the tour came to its end, and they were back where they started. Salo led Jinx and Ekko to his office, while Isha sat in the waiting room, poorly entertained by the young secretary at the front desk.

There was a little bit more small talk. Ekko and Jinx talking about their careers and prior education. Isha’s history in foster care. The whole time, Salo sat in a way that showed his pointy, narrow nose. Stuck-up.

Eventually, after so many questions, Salo got to business.

“Look,” he started. Salo twined his fingers at the top of his desk, breathing in. “Isha seems like a very bright child, but our concern lies in her ability to... integrate socially. Being nonverbal presents certain challenges, and—”

She fuckin’ knew it.

“Like we said, she signs,” Jinx interrupted. Her tone was a dagger, slicing through. “She doesn’t need to ‘integrate’ into anything. She just needs you to do your fuckin’ job as a damn principal—no, as a school­—by…by accommodating her.”

“We don’t give special treatment here at Piltover.” Salo didn’t seem to like her tone, which only made Jinx want to use it again. “And we value communication—”

“How many times do I gotta tell you, tuts,” Jinx sneered, “she communicates. What’s the problem—are these other kids too dumb and stupid to learn a little hand talk?”

Salo’s eyes widened. He waved up a dismissive, thin hand in defence. “Miss Lane—”

“You don’t have programs…?” Ekko asked. His words were carefully plucked, shattering whatever outburst they’d been headed for. Jinx almost frowned. Way to ruin her fun—she could’ve sent this fucker reeling. “Extra professional aid in classrooms—help for students who might not learn or work as… conventionally?”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple—”

There was a deep huff—the groan of a heavy chair against the floor, screeching. Ekko nudged Jinx’s shoulder, urging her to stand with him. His face was impossibly hard—tense, like he was trying not to burst at the seams in upset. Jinx wished he would.

“We’re done here.” His voice didn’t waver. Ekko helped Jinx into her coat and then slid his own on, too, guiding them both towards the door. Thank God. She wanted out. The whole room practically grumbled around her, tight and gaudy. She would never send Isha to this shithole anyway—with its uptight uniforms and its showy teachers and its exclusive students.

Behind them, Salo’s voice rang out. He was standing now, too, though still shielded behind that massive hulk of a desk. “Mr. Turner,” he said, “I hope you can understand our deduction. We only want what’s best for Isha.”

Jinx grumbled out loud—bitter and sharp—ready to quip back. Ready for a fight. Who the hell did this man think he was, whining about what was best for Isha? He didn’t even know her. Didn’t even bother giving her a chance. Oh, Jinx wanted to give it to him.

But right when her lips curled to open—desperate to do her worst—Ekko marched forward, as if in slow motion. His movements were measured and deliberate, stepping toward Salo’s desk and pressing one, heavy fist against the top of it. He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was unwavering—solid.

“No, I understand,” he began. His eyes were dark and pinched in a way that made Jinx’s stomach turn. “I understand that instead of making accommodations for a child who’s just as capable as any other, you’re asking us to ship her off elsewhere, because she’s inconvenient for you. For your reputation.”

Salo squirmed under Ekko’s steady gaze. “Like I said, it’s not about inconvenience. It’s about what’s best for Isha.”

“What’s best for Isha,” Ekko said, his tone made of ice, “is for her to be treated like she belongs—not shoved aside because you don’t want to put in the effort.”

He turned away, reaching for Jinx’s arm. The touch nearly made her melt beneath this mammoth of a foreign place—solid and stern and familiar. “We’ll be going now.”

He didn’t look at her, but God did she want him to. Wanted him to see the look on her face—pride and respect. And love, she was sure. Love was there, too.

Ekko cracked the door open, moving to leave and tugging Jinx with him. But she couldn’t go just yet. Not without having the last word.

“Oh, and for the record,” Jinx quipped. “Isha’s too good for this pretentious junkyard of a school anyway! Heads so far up your own asses, you can’t even see what’s good for ya!”

--

They practically dragged Isha out of there. The secretary hardly had time to shoot them a glance, gaping at the way Ekko just plucked Isha up from her seat and tore out of the room, barrelling towards the exit.

His heart was beating too hard in his chest—he could’ve kicked something. Someone.

What a bunch of pretentious, low-life pri—

He took in a breath of woody air and urged himself to cool off. Isha was signing something he could feel but couldn’t see—her arms looped around his neck.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Ish,” Jinx said somewhere behind him. “We’re going home now.”

The drive home was hardly long, but Ekko longed for it to be over fast. He wanted to shower. It was like he could feel the place on him—feel the disgust.

Next to him, Jinx was unusually quiet—though still, he knew her well enough to know she was just as upset. She was biting at the inside of her mouth, sucking in a cheek.

Isha let out a tiny whine in the backseat, calling for their attention. She was clutching Lepus in her lap, fiddling with one of her droopy ears. Eventually, she let go of the bunny, and Ekko watched her careful hands through the smudged glass of the rear-view mirror. Going there?

Next to him, Jinx scoffed—the noise purely guttural. She turned her head back towards the road and shoved a piece of gum in her mouth, smacking at it. Ekko flinched at the sound. “Absolutely not.”

Ekko shot Jinx a look—because seriously, that tone wasn’t helping—then he cleared his throat, glancing back at Isha from the rear-view. “Don’t worry, kid. This one’s not it. We’ll keep looking until we find the right school for you, okay?” 

They didn’t like me

Ekko nearly gasped. Isha didn’t look sad about it—not worried—only… curious. Unsurprised. Ekko’s heart could’ve split in half right there.

 Jinx, meanwhile, shot around from the passenger's seat, her body twisting like a pretzel to make sure Isha got a good look at her face.

“No, Isha, we didn’t like them.” She said it with clarity, like she wanted Isha to eat and swallow each and every word. “Believe me, okay, you’re way too smart for that pathetic excuse—that absolute joke—of a school.”

Isha only blinked at her, skeptical. Jinx’s anger wasn’t helping, but Ekko couldn’t blame her. His knuckles were growing strained from the tightness of his grip on the leather steering wheel. He felt guilty, almost, for taking it out on Vi’s poor, precious car.

In the backseat, Isha didn’t bother with a response. She went back to toying with one of Lepus’ ears, her gaze dropping, but Jinx persisted. Ekko knew she wouldn’t let up until Isha gave her some kind of answer.

“Did you hear me kid?”

Eventually, Isha balled her hand up into a fist—shaking it up and down—signing a solemn, steady, yes. She offered Jinx a tiny smile to seal it off, like stamping at a letter. Satisfied, Jinx finally turned around and grumbled. “Good.”

The rest of the ride droned on in silence, for the most part—the whirr that rained from the radio was dreary and crinkled from age, voices and lyrics sounding out in choppy, squealing clumps. Maybe Ekko could try to fix it—a distraction for this mess. He hadn’t tinkered much since college, but with Jinx’s help, they could probably manage.

Once they pulled over and parked, Isha scrambled for her stuff and hurried out of the car—eager to get her hands back on her doodling.

Ekko was already pushing his door open when Jinx reached for his arm, stopping him. She was looking at him unusually—trying to figure something out. He scrunched his eyebrows up in silent question.

Jinx’s mouth twitched, her hand still steady on his elbow. “Why aren’t you yellin’ at me?”

Ekko drew himself closer to her. “Why would I yell at you?”

“Oh, dunno.” Jinx shrugged. Her eyes were teasing. “Maybe for, like, goin’ bananas on the principal?”

Right. Not that he’d handled it with much less irritation. “Well, she deserved it.”

Jinx smiled at him—a laugh fled from her throat, giddy and something else…shy? No, that wasn’t right. Jinx wasn’t shy. Commending, maybe? There was something wild and gleaming in her eyes, and she was looking up at him beneath those long, thick lashes.

“What?” Ekko asked. His voice had come out softer than he’d intended, and everything was starting to feel weirdly hot again—like they’d just stepped into some kind of sauna.

“Nothing,” Jinx snorted. There was a snarky, curling smile on her purple mouth. “’S just, I liked it—when you were all…mean and serious.” She made some angry, pouting face—some poor attempt at imitating him. “Intimidating.”

Oh.

Ekko flushed. She’d never told him that before—not that she hadn’t seen him that way. In college, when they’d go bar hopping, Ekko had his fair share of wadding off drunken losers, having to stand his ground in crowds of sweaty, sardined bodies. Jinx would stare and laugh him off—drawing him back to himself—slinging her arms around his neck and begging him to dance just “one more time, please, before we go back.”

He reached out to tug at one of Jinx’s braids. “You’ve got a weird way of giving compliments, y’know.”

“Please,” Jinx waved a passive hand. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

Ekko swallowed. She teased like that all the time. Why was it making him warm, now, all of a sudden? The air felt thick between them—charged with something—something heavy and—

They both jumped. A knock sounded out from the backseat window, echoing. Isha was standing outside, waiting for them to get out. She gave them a hasty look, as if saying, what’s taking so long?

And for the first time, Ekko didn’t really have an answer for her.

--

They settled for the second school.

It was an easy pick, really. It wasn’t pompous like Piltover, and for that Ekko was grateful.

It just felt normal. With no uniforms, and no pool, and just one good ol’ gym. It was only ten minutes from home, and close enough to the beach for them to go on walks after class, if Isha wanted it. The principal—Amara—was a kind woman; one who promised them Isha would thrive, whether she spoke or not.

Despite it, Isha didn’t look too excited. It was Sunday night, and Ekko was running his thumb across the checklist of things Isha needed for 1^st grade. Meanwhile, Jinx peered over in Isha’s bag, making sure they’d packed it all.

“Pencils?”

Jinx shot a look. “Check.”

“Markers and crayons?”

“Too many for her own good.”

“Erasers?”

“The ugly pink ones.”

“Notebook and binder?”

“Yep, all here.”

On the couch, Isha was curled into herself with Lepus on her lap, already wearing her pajamas. She had the TV on, but Ekko knew she was only listening to him and Jinx’s preparatory rambling.

“Well, kid,” Ekko started. He moved to sit by her on the couch, dropping a hand on her knee. “You’re all set for tomorrow.” He shot a look at the clock that hung above their TV. “And it’s gettin’ late. You need your sleep, hm?”

Isha sulked, shaking her head. Not yet.

“C’mon, Isha,” Ekko hummed. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow; you’ll need the energy.”

It took a little while, but she ended up giving up on trying to push back her bedtime. She let Jinx ruffle her hair and let Ekko tuck her in without much fuss, wishing them goodnight.

Ekko and Jinx didn’t last much longer after that—exhausted from the supply shopping. Ekko crawled into bed first, and Jinx came only a little later, when he was already half-asleep. He nuzzled his face into her hair, breathing her in. She smelled of mint and orange and something else—something so uniquely Jinx.

The next time he woke, it was from the gentle creak of his bedroom door. A tiny, shrouded figure hung in the threshold, lingering.

The clock on his bedside table bled a bright, fluorescent green that shone a thin, tangy trail to the doorway. Ekko cocked his head to face it. 1:13 A.M.

“Isha?” Ekko rasped. He reached out to snap on the lamp at his bedside, bathing his bedroom in orange, making his eyes hurt. But yup, there Isha was. “Hey, c’mere.”

Isha hesitated in the threshold, clutching that bunny close to her chest. Ekko wasn’t sure what she was waiting for until he caught the way she was looking at Jinx. Wide-eyed and cautious.

She was waiting for Jinx to want her, too.

Jinx must’ve noticed, ‘cause suddenly she was stifling a yawn and sitting up.

“Get over here, kid. You’re creepin’ me out like that in the doorway—looking like some horror movie.”

Isha didn’t waste a second. She leapt up onto the bed—though not too close, keeping her distance, sitting criss-cross-applesauce right at the opposite end of the mattress.

Jinx rubbed at her face with a knuckle, and some mascara she hadn’t taken off right smeared low beneath her eyes. “What’s goin’ on?”

Isha balled up her hands in reluctance before signing. She didn’t look nightmare-level-scared, but there was an anxiety in the way she held herself. She was slouching low, curled up around her bunny. Don’t make me go. 

Ekko frowned. He leaned over closer, brushing a piece of hair from where it swept by her eyes. “To school?”

She nodded slowly—embarrassed. He got it. He didn’t really like school much either, at first—especially not in the system, before Benzo, when he was hopping from place to place, never staying long enough to make friends. But then he met Powder.

“Isha, I know starting at a new school is hard,” he said, “but you’ll like it. You’ll meet friends—you’ll learn—”

Learn here. She signed fervently, looking between them. Her eyes were pinched and desperate. With you.

Next to him, Jinx let out a sigh. She drew herself closer to them, tugging herself out of the sheets and kneeling on the mattress. “Kid, we gotta go to work—make money to buy you all kinds of fun things.”

Isha only shook her head, adamant. Don’t want.

“Really?” Jinx laughed, “’cause all those markers you like to draw with say otherwise.”

Ekko shot her a look, but Isha didn’t look so phased.

“Look.” Ekko dropped a hand at her arm, squeezing. “How about this. If you go tomorrow, we’ll get you something—do something—anything you want!”

Jinx slapped at his shoulder. She looked bewildered—though not genuinely. She was still laughing, her tired eyes playful. “Seriously, Ekko. Bribery?”

Ekko huffed. “What—a good deal’s a good deal?” He turned to Isha, winking. “Right?”

Isha hesitated, still doubtful. Then Jinx faked a melodramatic sigh, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. She was too good at this.

“Fine. Ekko’s right. A little compromise never killed anybody.” Jinx’s smirk softened as she turned her attention to Isha. Her tone was impossibly gentle. “You think you can manage that, kid? Try it just for one day?”

Isha hesitated, her small fingers twitching nervously against Lepus’s floppy ear. Her wide eyes flickered between Jinx and Ekko, as if gauging whether she could trust the offer.

After a little while, Isha finally dropped Lepus’s ear and held out her tiny fist. Yes.

Ekko grinned, leaning forward to bump her fist with his own. “We got a deal.”

Jinx tugged at a strand of Isha’s hair, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You better start thinking about what you want, then. Could be anything, you know. Ice cream, stickers, a pony—”

Isha tilted her head, eyebrows drawn— she was giving her a look that said, seriously?

“Okay, well,” Jinx said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “No pony. But the rest is on the table.”

Despite their efforts, Isha still looked anxious. Ekko noticed the way her hands fidgeted, how her gaze kept darting toward the door like she was expecting something—or someone—to take her away.

“You wanna sleep here?” he asked gently. He could tell she wouldn’t get much sleep on her own tonight and figured this would help. For a fraction of a second, Jinx shot him the smallest look of surprise—though she quickly caught herself.

Isha hardly noticed—she was too busy wavering again, her fingers twisting in Lepus’s ear as she glanced between them. By now, Ekko knew well enough what she was waiting for.

Ekko was almost worried Jinx would say no—she’d looked so staggered at his question. But then, tentatively, she scooted to make room, patting at the mattress. “I don’t bite, kid. C’mere.”

That was all it took. She shot herself between them—an arrow, barrelling—lodging herself right under Jinx’s arm. Jinx let out a puff of surprise—Isha colliding into her harder than she’d expected—before sinking back down, letting Isha huddle closer.

Ekko drew the blanket over them, slotting Lepus back down into Isha’s hands, then reached over to tug the string of his lamp, engulfing them in darkness.

Isha dropped her head against his shoulder once he laid back down—Jinx’s arm was still twined around Isha, and he could feel her elbow against his ribs, prodding.

It was uncomfortable as hell, but both girls already seemed half asleep, and he didn’t have it in him to ruin the moment. So, he slept like that, with Jinx’s elbow at his ribs, and Isha’s head on his shoulder.

And that damn bunny there, too.

--

Jinx was halfway through frying three eggs—fatty grease sizzling, runny whites sweltering—when Isha wandered into the kitchen with the sign book in her hands.

There was a sense of conviction in the way she moved, though her cheeks were a little rosier than usual. Jinx could tell that her hair was brushed down, less messy than she typically kept it.

“Ready for the big day?

Isha shrugged passively, like school wasn’t her priority right now. She didn’t look nervous at all anymore. Only…determined.

Jinx paused; the spatula loosened in her grip as Isha pushed closer, nearing the counter, and Jinx slid the pan aside, worried Isha’d burn herself, somehow, if she came too close.

But Isha didn’t care for the pan, or the oven, or her breakfast. Instead, she slammed her book down on the countertop. A tiny finger hovered over the open page with insistence, and Jinx couldn’t help but peer over to look.

Jinx dropped the spatula.

It splattered into the pan, clanking hard. Yellow-orange bloomed from an egg yolk like blood from a wound.

“Fu—Shit. Hold on!” Jinx stirred fast, shucking the eggs onto three beds of breakfast potatoes, already plated from earlier. Next to her, Isha staggered from her quickness. Jinx turned back around, shoving the pan towards the coolest corner of the oven.

Jinx looked back down at the book, making sure she got it right.

“Braid?” Her voice was high with shock. “You want me to braid your hair?”

Isha nodded slowly. She used her fist to sign, yes. That same conviction was still there, but it’d dissipated a little from the attention, from Jinx’s tone—anxiety creeped out slowly from its crevices, laced in those big, buggy eyes.

“This is your compromise?” Jinx blinked. “Seriously—you could’ve asked for anything. A cake? A Nintendo Switch? Some V-Bucks? You know, you look like you’d be real good at Fortnite.”

Isha shook her head the whole way through, impossibly frustrated. No game, she signed. Braid.

Jinx sighed. Isha looked like an angry chipmunk, ready to pounce. And she had made her a promise.

“Okay, if you really want to. A deal’s a deal, I guess. But you gotta eat first—these eggs won’t be any good if they’re cold.”

She’d never seen the kid eat faster, finishing her meal in less than five minutes—half-sitting, half-standing. When she wiped her plate clean, she shoved it back, then signed at Jinx from across the kitchen table.

Now?

Jinx sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

Some noise came out of Isha’s mouth—some whir of excitement. She followed Jinx closely while they slotted themselves down on the carpet. Isha was practically buzzing.

“Okay…let’s see.” Jinx slid a hesitant palm over Isha’s scalp. “One or two, kid, what’s your pick?”

She didn’t even know why she asked. Isha didn’t hesitate as she held up two fingers. Duh. Jinx said nothing, weaving her nails through Isha’s thick, choppy strands of hair in utter silence.

“Woah.” Ekko had come out of his room, watching from the hallway. A stupid, sly smile was toying at his mouth, and Jinx rolled her eyes. He was never going to let this go. “What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Isha wanted to visit the hair salon,” Jinx murmured. “Her compromise for goin’ to school today.”

Ekko reached for his mug of coffee and leaned up against the wall, watching them. “I see.”

He was looking at her in a way that made her feel terribly vulnerable. Like he could pierce through her, and Jinx just had to look away.

At first, Isha was tense while Jinx tugged and twined. But slowly—strand by strand and piece by piece—Isha softened. She bent back against Jinx’s forearms, drooping. And for whatever reason, that made Jinx feel vulnerable too.

She quickened her way through finishing—Ekko’s eyes were burning at her from her peripheral, and she could feel her cheeks growing so stupidly hot. She never flushed—the hell was wrong with her lately? Thankfully, there wasn’t much to braid, anyway—Isha’s hair was short and choppy, but she worked with what she could.

She tugged down at Isha’s ends when she finished, and the girl bolted upright, straight to her room—she wanted to look in the mirror, Jinx figured.

From the living room, Jinx heard a squeal.

Mouth against the rim of his mug, Ekko mumbled, “I think she likes it.”

“She better.” Jinx groaned, but there was an awful smile that threatened to creep up on her mouth. “Don’t got time for take-backsies.”

–-

Jinx still couldn’t get why, but the braid thing had worked wonders for Isha’s confidence. She hadn’t complained all morning after that—eager, even, to get to class and show her hair off.

Once they got there—once she realized how real everything was becoming—she softened back a little, clinging to Ekko’s hand while the principal greeted them at the reception.

Eventually, the dull small-talk came to its close and principal Amara shot a glance at her watch. “You ready for class, Isha?” There was still a couple minutes until the bell rang, but they figured it’d be best to get her settled in early.

With a reluctant nod, Isha drew herself away from Ekko, her shoulders hunched.

Jinx bent kneeled down to her level, breaking a smile. “Alright.” The strap of Isha’s school bag had twisted on her shoulder, and Jinx reached out a hand to readjust it. “Got everything?”

Isha gulped. With shy fingers, she tugged at Jinx’s braid, then at one of her own choppy ones—almost as if drawing strength. Yes.

“Atta girl. You’ll crush it, kid,” she said. “Promise.”

Ekko moved to kneel next to them. The smile he wore probably looked a whole lot reassuring than her own—steady and solid and undoubting. “If there’s anything—anything—you get the secretary to call us, okay?”

Okay.

Isha blinked. There was a pause—a long, timid moment of hesitation. Then Isha reached forward, draping one arm across Ekko’s neck and the other around Jinx’s, hugging the both of them at once.

It lasted hardly three seconds—neither of them having time to properly hug back—before she reluctantly took Amara’s hand and wandered down the hallway to class, leaving Ekko and Jinx feeling stranded—looking stupid, still kneeling for what felt like a ghost of a kid.

Jinx stood first, reaching a hand out to Ekko to help him up. They were both standing now, but neither let go.

“She’ll be fine,” Ekko mumbled.

“Yeah,” Jinx agreed, “she’ll be fine.”

Jinx knew—standing aimlessly beneath those white, dreary hallway lights—that they were promising it to themselves as much as they were promising it to each other. That they’d started caring a whole lot more than they thought they would.

Chapter Text

A low, yellow strip of sunlight bled in through the bottom crease of the window—right where the drapes just couldn’t keep it.

Jinx blinked awake, but Sunday morning was a lazy, dreary thing—warm hands that held you down, soothing you back to sleep. Her lashes were brushing against the skin of Ekko’s neck—her face burrowed into all that warmth, and she stretched her fingers out onto the hardness of his back—long, chipped nails scratching at the cool, wrinkled cotton of his shirt.

A whimper fled someone’s throat—his or hers, she wasn’t sure. They were so closely intertwined—a mess of coiled limbs beneath the blankets—it was hard to make out which vibrations came from her body, which breaths came from his. When they were like this, so tangled, they felt like one whole thing. Like they were one person. Like she could stop breathing, and it wouldn’t matter—his breaths would be enough to sustain her, would be as good as her own.

She stretched out her back, the bare skin of her stomach brushing up against his own—their shirts must’ve ridden up in the night, bunched up by their waists while they slept, and Ekko’s hand was a fist against the crumpled material at her spine, latching.

He was so warm. She could’ve stayed here all day.

Lazy Sundays were a staple in their home—mornings that slipped into afternoons. Warm, thick bagels coated in beds of cream cheese. A coffee, maybe two. A walk at Golden Gate Park was as explorative as they got. Then later, some homework help, for Isha, who liked to pretend she didn’t have any.

But today couldn’t be lazy. Today, she had plans. The kind she didn’t want.

She rolled over, her eyes finally creeping open, and reached for her phone at the corner of the mattress. At the loss of closeness, Ekko whined in his half-sleep, curling up behind her, dropping a hand at her waist. He buried his face into her hair, and she could feel his lips—hot and breathy—at the base of her scalp.

He hummed against her, the feel of it leaking through; his words slow and slurred. “Whatimeizzit?”

10:37 was the number that peered up at her, cracked and glowy in the dim, blue morning shadows.

“Too late.” She shut her eyes again—just for a little while. Soon she’d have to get up and face the day, shower, and dress and leave the house. Vi would be here at 12 o’clock, and that didn’t leave much time for lounging.

Ekko hardened his hold on her, dipping his face in the shadowed hollowness of her collarbone. “Coffee?”

Jinx groaned. “What a question.”

Ekko was the first to tear himself away—not without a slow, tedious reluctance—and Jinx beckoned herself up soon after. Dry, icy air struck her skin like a gust of wind.

January had withered by without much time to think, carried by a hurried quickness—the short, cold dreariness of February eager to take its place. March was already peering around the corner, keen on its turn.

Jinx hadn’t seen the days. Together, they jumbled like broken pieces, draining into each other. A mismatched stream of early morning school drop-offs and long shifts and bedtime stories after warm, homemade dinners.

In the living room, Isha was curled up on the thick, olive cushions of their couch, already fully dressed—sporting some blue jeans and the crewneck Cait and Vi had gotten her for Christmas. Something expensive. The low hum of a morning cartoon was coming from the television, and a grin split her face when she saw them, waving a tiny hand.

At least one of them was game for the shopping.

“Mornin’, bunny,” Ekko mumbled, “how long you been up?”

Isha shrugged, holding up a finger. One. One hour.

She flushed—only a little—at the nickname. Jinx had coined it two weeks ago now, and it stuck. It was bound to happen eventually—Jinx gave everything names and nicknames. Some sixth form of affection, she figured, that came naturally.

It’d slipped out at the store, when Isha’d tugged a pair of bunny ears over her cap and made Jinx laugh. “C’mon, you bunny,” she’d chuckled, urging her towards the cash register. “Let’s go bother Ekko at home.”

Ekko walked over to tug at one of Isha’s braids, fly-away pieces curling out—Jinx had started doing them every night before bed to save them time in the morning, but often enough they had to be touched up anyway, coming undone after a night’s sleep.

“Hungry?”

Isha nodded, and Jinx stumbled into the kitchen, brewing two mugs of coffee—the strongest pods they had. Ekko followed suit, reaching for pancake batter in the cupboard.

“I’d make it from scratch,” he teased, coming close, “but I heard you’re tight on time—got plans. Without me.”

“You could come, y’know.” Jinx let her fingers linger against his when he reached for the mug she offered. “Vi could use an extra opinion.”

He took a sip of coffee, slurping. Foam brushed the top of his cupid’s bow, and Jinx reached out to wipe it off. “Nah, won’t ruin your girl’s day.”

“Please do,” Jinx whispered, “ruin it all you like.”

--

Vi took them to some quaint shop tucked just out of the city—some expensive suburban strip, flocking with well-to-do families who spent their weekends slotting credit cards into payment machines, yearning for the euphoric, greedy feel of that big-ol’ purchase.

Stumbling out of Vi’s car, Jinx watched a middle-aged mother and her teenage daughter open the trunk of their Tesla, stuffing in the mountain of bags that’d been hanging from their arms—mammoth-sized things labelled with Sephora and Aritzia and Apple.

Jinx groaned. They made their way out of the parking lot, Isha hovering by Vi, looking around with wild, prying eyes.

“Did Cait send you here?”

Vi bit her lip through a shrug. “Not really…she just informed me,” she said, which might as well have meant yes, she did. Now can it.

They were practically the only ones in the suit shop—apart from the two babbling employees who didn’t seem to care much for their arrival. 

The place was chic, though slightly outdated—like it’d last been renovated in 2009. Heavy, mahogany floors, black and white panelled walls, racks of pants and blazers and button-ups of every color, every pattern. At the very back was a whole wall of mirror—some brown, leather sofas and a few tiny, square podiums, lodged right next to the changing rooms.

Jinx plucked at the price tag that hung from the breast pocket of a blazer. Yikes.

“Jeez, Vi,” Jinx droned, “hope your girl is funding this.”

Vi shot Jinx a glare, looking virtually offended—she looked stressed as hell. Jinx decided not to mess with her for the rest of the day.

“Don’t doubt me—just look around, tell me if anything stands out. I need to try on more than one, kay?”

Sheesh, was the sandwich shop rakin’ it in like that?

Vi settled on trying ten damn suits—most of which she’d picked out herself; the other four selected by Jinx and, by eager extension, Isha, who offered a gracious thumbs-up to the ones she approved of.

Vi looked good in most of them, but had an obvious bias for two—a black, sleek silk one that looked smooth-to-the-touch, and a deep, red velvet one, that complimented the color of her side-swept hair. Jinx watched from the leather sofa, Isha tucked up under her arm, as Vi adjusted the blazer’s glossy collar—she’d tried the silk one on a second time, just for good measure.

Vi shot Jinx a look from where she stood on the podium. “So those two for sure then, right?”

“Two?” Jinx gaped. “Don’t ya just need one—unless you’re doin’ one of those corny, surprise outfit changes rich people like to do.”

On the podium, she watched Vi swallow dryly in the mirror’s glossy reflection, a dry laugh tumbling from her mouth.

“Absolutely not.” She reached to rub at the back of her neck. “But Cait’s parents are hosting a…uh—a party. At their estate. For our engagement.”

The word party was practically a stolen whisper on Vi’s lips.

Jinx couldn’t help the groan that fled her throat—guttural and breathy and wholly, entirely, awfully genuine. Isha shot her a weird look, like she’d made a sound that wasn’t human.

The wedding was one thing—dreadful enough. But at least Vi’s involvement in organizing would water it down. Make it bearable—humble, somehow.

Cait’s parents running their own party though? Oh, that was something else. Something Jinx wasn’t sure she could stand.

In Kirraman, party really meant gala, which in turn meant long gowns, and crystal chandeliers, and silver, sparkling champagne that bled out into a pyramid of half-moon glasses like some million-dollar bubbling river.

She’d been invited to a few Kirraman gala’s before—a charity event, Cait’s 26th birthday party—but she’d never actually attended. She experienced it, instead, through Instagram posts and fleeting stories, from the comfort of her couch, where her and Ekko could laugh at the overt extravagance of it all.

Excuses were easy enough to muster, and Vi had never argued. But this was Vi’s engagement party, and there was no getting out of it.

“Their estate?” Jinx made a sour face, like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “What ever happened to a house.”

“It is a house,” Vi said. She was tucking her blouse into her pants, smoothing out the silk. “Just…a really big one?”

Isha tugged on the sleeve of her sweater, tilting her head to look up at her. Want to go.

“‘Course you do.” Jinx flashed her a devilish wink. “Wanna rob ‘em blind, huh?”

Isha giggled. No!

Vi rolled her eyes, stepping off the podium with a huff. “You’re impossible, Powder. If I wasn’t so useless with shopping, I wouldn’t have dragged you along.”

“Dragged?” Jinx leaned back into the sofa; one arm draped over Isha’s shoulder. “I’m doing you a favor here. This could’ve been just you, Caitlyn, and the entire Kirraman empire deciding which silk screams pretentious enough.”

Vi shot her a glare but didn’t bother responding. Instead, she turned back toward the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of her blouse.

“For the record,” she mumbled, “It’s not like I want the party either. And believe me, neither does Cait.”

“Then why the hell are you having it?” Jinx shrugged. God, Vi was too good to these people—this was their wedding, why the hell weren’t they fighting against it? “Tell Cait’s folks you’re not about to be paraded around like a doll at their fancy soirée.”

“It’s not that simple,” Vi said, her tone clipped. “This isn’t just for us. It’s for Cait’s family. Cait’s their only child, they want to make it big. It’s... important to them.”

“Yeah, but is it important to you?”

The question hung in the air, heavier than that faint smell of cedarwood and starch that clung to the shop, ancient and dusted.

Vi’s shoulders tensed for a moment before she exhaled, her posture softening.

“Look, it’s different with these people—their lives are different,” Vi mumbled. “And Cait and I’d rather they micro-manage an engagement party than the wedding. A compromise.”

Jinx could’ve argued back all day, really—still didn’t get why Vi was putting up with this. She must’ve really loved Cait, but Jinx knew that well enough now.

Next to her, Isha was staring with those owl eyes; hopeful and brimming with that amber, golden glow.

Great, now she had two people weaving her into doing all the things she didn’t care for—three, if you counted Ekko, who wasn’t here to ground her in that way he always managed.

Whatever—it was just one night—and she wasn’t the one marrying Cait, dealing with her family the way Vi would have to. Besides, didn’t these kinds of things have and open bar?

“Well,” Jinx mumbled, “guess I can’t show up in jeans, then.”

Across from her, Vi smirked—the only real smile she’d had all day. “Oh no—no, we’ll have to come back here, get you a matching suit. We’ll look just alike!”

Isha giggled at that, and Jinx groaned, despite the smile on her mouth. “Over my dead body.”

--

Vi stayed for dinner.

They sat together, crammed on their dining table, with a bottle of Trader Joe’s sangria at the middle like some nine-dollar centerpiece. It wasn’t Cait and Vi’s Christmas dinner, but it would do.

Ekko hadn’t had the time to prepare—Vi always made them really good food, enough to feed an army, and he was used to cooking for two—three now, with Isha. He settled for some chipotle chicken tacos, perched in soft shell tortillas and topped with mango and red onion and cilantro.

Outside, the sun was half tucked beneath the horizon—orange bloomed within the apartment, turning everything ablaze—the days lingered longer than they had only last month, with spring so close, craving its turn.

“You could’ve been a chef, Little Man,” Vi mumbled mid-bite. Her hands drenched with pink-white mayonnaise. “This is good—real good.”

Ekko laughed, plucking at another tortilla. “In another life, maybe.”

Isha didn’t seem too fond of the spice—Ekko made a mental note, he was still learning what she liked and didn’t like—and she made Jinx scrape off the charred skin of her chicken with a fork, shredding it down without much seasoning.

Jinx sat close next to him, their elbows brushing. There was a smile on her face that only seemed to bud when Vi was around—around without Cait. He hadn’t seen that look in a while, and the sight of it made his heart soar in ways he hadn’t remembered it could.

There was something more, too—something new, he could tell. It lingered in the way she laughed while wiping the sticky, yellow mango juice from the corner of Isha’s mouth—in the way she leaned against him when he made a stupid joke—in the way she shucked a piece of ice at Vi, who complained about the temperature in their apartment.

Ekko realized only then that this was the first real time the four of them were alone without Cait—not in the rush of a grocery store—without the pressure of Jinx’s insecurities clouding over her like some looming, threatening thundercloud.

“Hey,” Vi started. Her mouth tugged up with a tender smile. “Thanks for coming today. Means a lot, Pow.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me.” Jinx plucked a piece of mango into her mouth. “You won’t be so thankful when I get all sloppy drunk at your engagement party.”

Ekko’s brows raised. “Engagement party?”

Vi sighed, picking at the edge of her tortilla. “Yeah. Cait’s parents are hosting it.”

“Oh,” Ekko said. He was careful with his tone, trying to ground it in neutrality. He knew Jinx was going to have a field day later, when Vi left, and she could unleash all those bitter jokes.

(Admittedly, he couldn’t wait to hear ‘em.)

“Oh?” Jinx mimicked. “Oh, Ekko? That’s all you have to say? The Kirramans are probably renting out Buckingham Palace for this thing, where’s your enthusiasm?”

Vi groaned, dropping her fork onto her plate. “It’s not that bad. It’s just...y’know. Cait’s parents like their big events.”

“Yeah,” Jinx said, scoffing. “Events. Sure. You mean galas.”

Isha blinked between them, her head slanted. What’s a gala? She spelled the last word out letter by letter, not quite knowing the proper sign for it.

“A real boring party where people wear swanky clothes to let everyone know how rich they are,” Jinx translated, ruffling Isha’s hair.

Ekko frowned slightly, his gaze flicking to Vi. A party of that kind wasn’t Vi’s style—not his either, really—but he knew well enough that this wasn’t her doing. “You okay with it?”

Vi hesitated, her eyes drifting to the glowing horizon beyond the window. “It’s important to Cait,” she said finally. “And it’s not forever. Just one night.”

The things we do for love, Ekko figured.

Jinx’s face softened, her teasing tone fading. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, “you better save me a seat at the kids’ table.”

Vi chuckled. “You’d blend right in. Probably start a food fight halfway through dinner.”

“Only if they deserve it,” Jinx shot back, but her gaze shifted to Isha, who was staring down at her plate, poking at the shredded chicken.

“Speaking of kids’ tables...” Ekko said, raising an eyebrow at Isha. “What’s the plan with your homework, Bunny?”

Isha’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing slightly. She slouched low in her chair, curling toward Vi like she could forever shield behind her—protected from the inevitable.

Vi raised her hands, laughing. “Don’t look at me, kid. You’re on your own for this one.”

“Homework,” Jinx repeated, her tone sharper now. “You know, that thing you keep forgettin’ about until bedtime?”

Isha huffed, crossing her arms as her gaze darted away.

Ekko sighed.

Isha hadn’t exactly taken a liking to school in the way he’d hoped. She never cared to do her homework—never cared to wake up for class. She didn’t seem to have many friends, if any at all—and she didn’t like when Jinx and Ekko asked any questions, either. She would ignore them—walk out of the room.

Jinx liked to push, but Isha was just as stubborn, giving her the silent treatment if her questions got too invasive.

Ekko figured it was just taking her a little longer to adjust—

“Y’know,” Vi said, leaning close, “if anyone ever bothers you, all you gotta do is—” she held up a callused, closed fist, shaking it hard. “Bam! Show them you’re stronger than they are.”

Ekko snorted, tilting back in his chair. “Yeah, great advice, Vi. Let’s just teach her to punch her way through school.”

Vi shrugged, grinning. “Worked for me.”

A hard look came across Isha’s face—something like determination, and Ekko wasn’t sure he liked that look too much.

Later—when the sun had fully set, the world outside drenched by the twinkle of city lights—Vi left, and Isha was forced to succumb to the inescapable: finishing her homework.

She hunched over her worksheet—some set of basic subtractions and additions. Still, Isha fiddled with the yellow, chipped length of her crayon, her focus unsettled.

Jinx hovered next to her, bribing her with sour gummy worms for each question she got right. She was using her own fingers for Isha to count on, and Ekko was struck across the table, watching the simplicity of it—the pure domesticity.

Jinx was good at this. He knew she’d be okay—but he hadn’t expected this—this natural way.

The room was a quiet hum—lulling him—and in that moment, it was hard for him to imagine there was anything else made for him. Anything better.

--

On Thursday, it stormed all morning.

Thick, heavy sheets of rain came down in never-ending strokes, turning the city to mist. The wind rattled at their thin, misty windows—the trees outside groaned to life—thin, skinny branches scratched at the outer wood paneling of the apartment complex.

Jinx settled on working from home—she didn’t like being in a car if it rained too hard, and she was a little weary of letting the two of them go off, too.

“Can’t we all stay here today?” Jinx mumbled. She was curled up on the couch, toying with a piece of metal. There were bags under her eyes that hadn’t been there over weekend. She wasn’t fond of storms, and Ekko knew well enough why.

Isha nodded eagerly, abandoning her bowl of cereal. The kid would do anything to stay out of school—lately, she’d taken a liking to feigning sickness. She’d drag herself to the couch and flop over in Jinx’s lap—in his own—and complain about a headache.

It’d worked the first few times—neither having the heart to tell her no—but as time went on, they knew better.

“No shot, Ish,” Ekko said. He turned his eyes to Jinx. “You know she’s missed enough days already.”

Jinx shrugged, and Isha sulked, and Ekko was suddenly questioning how he’d managed to get two of them, all the same.

Isha slung her backpack across her shoulders—the massive, heavy thing like a bolder at her back. Ekko hovered by Jinx on the couch, running his fingers across the bare skin of her arm.

“You’ll be okay, though, right?” He nibbled at his bottom lip, nervous. “You don’t feel….”He trailed off. Isha was eyeing them hard. He settled gently for, “sick?” Jinx would know what he meant.

She huffed a piece of hair away from her face—that same long bang she always kept out—and pursed her lips, forcing a laugh. Vulnerability was a hard thing, sometimes, to tug from her. Even from him.

“’Course,” she mumbled—she could hardly meet his gaze. “Always am, aren’t I?”

Ekko gulped but didn’t press. She didn’t like it when he did, and he’d seen her worse. Not that it was easy not to pry—he was wondering, really, if curling up next to her was the wiser thing to do—latch on and not let go ‘til the rain drained out—‘til the city went dry.

But Jinx waved a hand at him, her eyes magnetizing to that slab of metal in her hand. “Seriously, Ekko, I’m fine. Get outta here before Bunny’s late to class—not that she’d mind, huh?”

Isha flushed at the threshold, stomping her way out the door, hardly wishing Jinx a goodbye.

The ride to school was longer that morning, with the weather so harsh. Isha didn’t bother saying bye to him either—mad, he figured, that he’d shut down her chance for her to stay home.

He tried not to dwell on it—the hospital was busy enough to keep his mind occupied. But still, he was already eager to call Jinx. The storm had only gotten stronger, and she might’ve gotten worse.

At the reception, he paused to pluck his phone out of his pocket. He wasn’t on break yet, but he could still sneak a text. His fingers were padding at the screen of his phone, when—

“Hey!” Seraphine was smiling at him—her teeth pearly. Her hair was loose today, fanning out at the sides of her face.

“Sera, hi,” he said. “How’s your morning going?”

“Not so bad,” she chirped. “I love storms! Makes me wanna read a good book, y’know.”

He huffed a passive laugh. “Yeah, definitely.”

He shot an impatient glance down at his phone, but Sera was hovering close, still. Waiting.

“Look, Ekko, I had a question for you.” Her voice was sweet, like she’d been dipped in sugar—though tinged, somehow, with uneasiness. “I was wondering…if you had plans? Tomorrow night.”

Ekko’s brows furrowed. What was she asking for?

“Depends.” He pulled a pen from his pocket, clicking at it, tilting his head. “Does a dramatic reading of Junie B. Jones qualify as plans?”

“Absolutely not,” Seraphine laughed. She came closer, so their forearms brushed atop the desk. His breath hitched at the contact.

“So,” she murmured, “what I’m hearing is that you’re free for drinks then—downtown?”

Ekko blanked. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but that wasn’t it.

She was asking him on a date…right? That’s what it meant, he remembered, in college, when pretty girls leaned close with their sparkling eyes—their minty breaths— and asked him out for drinks, for dinner.

He gulped hard. He hadn’t been on a proper date in years.

In high school, he’d had a girlfriend from junior to senior year—way after Vander died, when Jinx had been moving from group home to group home, and they’d long since lost touch. She was a pretty girl, Zeri. They shared a lot of the same interests, the same passions.

But then he’d gone off to college, and as much as he’d tried to keep them stable, long-distance was a tired, tedious thing—something he couldn’t manage.

(And, obviously, there was the undeniable matter that he’d reconnected with Powder—Jinx, as of then.)

The two of them became a unit unlike anything he’d ever known. She was more than a best friend—she was part of him; understood him in ways that other people hadn’t—knew him when they were little. And while she’d changed, the change hadn’t scared him. It enticed him—endeared him—drew him closer, somehow. He liked the newfound spunk—the leaking sarcasm.

One night, they were settled in the corner of some dingy frat party, hiding from the noise on a shabby couch. It’d only been a month since they reconnected, but she still wore her hair in those two-parted braids.

Jinx had pressed her head against his shoulder—her cheek was cold, freezing—and her breath was hot on his skin. Her voice was a low hum against him—she smelled of cheap, pungent vodka. He could’ve drowned in it, if she’d let him.

“Do you remember Powder?”

He brushed his hand against her hair. The question was so odd, he’d almost laughed. “What?”

“Y’know,” she’d mumbled. “Who I was when we met.”

Ekko hadn’t understood. “’Course I do—that’s you, and you’re… right here, aren’t you?” He felt a little crazy.

“No,” she whispered, “I’ve changed.”

It was true. She’d grown harder—harsher. She didn’t hesitate in pouncing back when people pressed her—didn’t falter. But there was still that undercurrent—that sweetness, that intelligence, that potential, that insecurity—that whole, unbroken need to be loved—and he remembered that well enough.

But she wasn’t the only one.

“Shit, I’ve changed, too. Everyone does.” He'd pressed her closer. “That’s just…growing up.”

She shook her head against him, adamant—persisting. “That’s not what I mean—that’s not the same.”

“Hey.” He’d drawn her chin in his hand, making it so she looked up at him. Her eyes were hardly blue beneath the lights—they’d looked violet, almost, beneath the neon party glows—“Don’t think you get to decide that for me.”

She smiled at him—closed-mouth and tender. Then, after a while, she warily asked, “do you like me like this?”

Ekko frowned. He’d put it as simply as he could. “There’s no version of you I couldn’t like, Jinx.”

She hummed at that—a quiet, timid sound—then nuzzled closer.

But doubt had creeped up the base of his skull—he was typically decently confident, but now he was questioning it. “Do—you like me like this, right?”

Jinx’s smile faltered. She’d reached out to brush at a lock of his hair. “Yeah, Boy Savior. I like you like this.”

Ekko swallowed the memory down hard. Seraphine was looking at him, expecting some kind of response.

But it was difficult, admittedly, to find a girl who was accepting enough of how close he was to Jinx—the two of them lived together, did everything together. That made it hard, really, to pursue much dating. Most dates didn’t extend past the second—especially not once they realized being taken home didn’t quite mean being taken home alone.

Jinx, meanwhile, had a fair share of flings in college. Nothing serious—boys and girls alike.

Ekko, frankly, didn’t like any of them. Later—after they’d served their deal—Jinx had admitted to not liking them much, either.

He talks too much.

She wanted me to meet her mom—it’s been like, a week?

He’s kind of ugly; I must’ve really been drunk.

Ekko had unyieldingly agreed to all her verdicts. None of them were good enough for her, that was sure.

She hadn’t been on a date since college…right? Not any that she’d told him of, but Jinx didn’t lie to him.

Finally, Ekko stammered. “I—I don’t know—”

Seraphine frowned. “You don’t know if you want to go out with me?”

Ekko clenched his jaw—it’s not that he didn’t. Seraphine was pretty. And she was kind. Funny and great to work with. And really, he didn’t have much to lose. He wasn’t the kind to go out on so many dates.

Maybe it’d be fun?

“I do,” Ekko decided. “I do, but it’s complicated—”

“Complicated how?” Her questions were razor sharp; one after the other after the other.

Ekko opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. How was it complicated? How could he explain Jinx—explain their life together without it sounding like something it really just wasn’t.

“It’s just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his pen still clutched awkwardly in his other hand. “I live with someone. A friend.”

Seraphine raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. “A friend,” she repeated, her tone even but curious.

“Yeah,” he said, fumbling. “We’ve been close since we were kids. She’s, uh—she’s family, you know?”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, but there was something guarded in her eyes. “That’s nice. It’s good to have someone like that.”

Ekko nodded quickly. He hadn’t even finished. “We’re...we’re fostering a kid—It’s a long story, but…it’s not like that.”

There was a pause, just long enough to make the air between them feel heavier.

“That explains the Junie B. Jones, then.” Seraphine smiled decidedly. “Y’know, whenever you mentioned her, I just figured she was your niece or something, but…that’s sweet. You have a good heart.”

She didn’t look bothered at all, and Ekko wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it surely wasn’t this. Maybe it wasn’t as complicated as he’d thought?

“So, drinks? Right after work?” Seraphine prompted again, her voice lighter this time, but there was an edge of impatience there too.

“Yeah,” Ekko said, forcing a smile. “Drinks.”

Seraphine’s grin returned, and she gave his arm a light squeeze before walking off, leaving him alone at the desk.

Ekko exhaled, his shoulders slumping as soon as she was out of sight. The memory of Jinx’s voice—soft and uncertain, asking him if he liked her like this—lingered in his mind, resonating.

--

They had chicken for dinner that night—Ekko picked it up from some restaurant by the apartment, too tired to cook.

The storm had calmed, and so had Jinx. She seemed back to her usual self—sarcastic and histrionic—like the morning hadn’t happened.

He’d tried to tell her about the date as soon as he got home, but Jinx was babbling on about the engagement party in April, and the dress she’d have to buy, and the gift they’d have to bring.

By dinner, he still hadn’t found the time to slip it into conversation.

Across from him, Isha was toying with the food on her plate, coating a piece of chicken in her bed of mashed potatoes. She was quieter than usual—Ekko figured she was still upset from the morning, but usually she’d have eased up by now.

“Isha,” he started, “you okay?”

The girl shrugged, pushing at a piece of lettuce in her dish. Jinx shot him a look—something like caution, alarm. She reached over to drop a hand at Isha’s arm, squeezing.

“I know you’ve been having a hard time with school, kid,” she said. “But tomorrow’s Friday. Why don’t we do somethin’ fun, hm—all of us? After class.”

Isha seemed to hardly register a word. Jinx, meanwhile, looked back at Ekko with expecting eyes, wide and blue and hopeful and—fuck.

He swallowed a piece of chicken and it tumbled down his throat, dry and uneasy.

“I—uh, I meant to ask you,” he stammered. “I’m busy tomorrow. At night. So, I was hoping you and Isha would be okay without me? Just for a little while.”

Jinx frowned, brows furrowed. “You’re back on night shifts?”

Isha was hardly looking at either of them—dazed, gazing down into her dish. Somehow, it made Jinx’s solitary attention feel worse.  

“No,” he mumbled. “I’m going out for drinks. With a coworker.”

God, why did the words feel like some kind of violation? Like some uncrossed boundary—some sin. They weren’t together. They were complicated. But not like that. And he knew that.

See, this was why he just didn’t go on dates.

Jinx’s left brow shot up. “Claggor…?”

“Uh, no.” He sucked in a breath, feeling like he was suffocating, somehow, beneath Jinx’s stare. “Her name is Seraphine.”

“So…you have a—” she made a bitter face, her lip curling at an angle he’d never seen, not even with Cait—“date?”

She said it in a way that made him question it.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what it is.”

Jinx’s mouth was agape. She’d dropped her gaze, looking instead at the corner of the room.

“Oh.” It came out dryly—dripping in sarcasm. She huffed, then slammed her fork into her dish. Isha hardly jolted, but Ekko’s eyes widened at the sudden outburst. “Thanks for asking, y’know, before you made any official plans. Not like I have anywhere important to go, or anything—ever.”

“Jinx, I was going to ask but—"

“Ask for what?” She was laughing wryly now, each word laced with hostility. His heart was a hammer inside. “So I say no—say I’m busy—and you cancel? Makes me look like a bitch.”

“Jinx,” Ekko groaned, “no, it’s not like that.”

“Whatever.” She shoved her plate back. “It’s not like I actually do have plans. Or a valid reason to say no. So…”

“Jinx,” he started again, softer this time. “It’s just one night.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “One night,” she muttered. “Sure. One night with—with—what’s her name again?”

“Seraphine,” Ekko said hesitantly, the name sounding heavier than it should.

Jinx’s lips curled into a mocking smile, her eyes darting to him with sharp precision. “Right. Seraphine. And what? You’re gonna wine and dine her, huh? Hope she doesn’t mind the whole ‘I live with my girl-best-friend and a kid’ thing?”

Ekko clenched his jaw, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Jinx leaned forward, her voice dropping low enough to make him flinch. “What’s fair is you giving me a heads-up before dumping everything on me. You don’t get to spring this shit on me, Ekko.”

Jinx shot a glance at Isha, who was looking between them with a weird look—not that examining kind, but one so unlike herself—exhaustion spiked with confusion. Her eyes were still curious, but that brightness wasn’t there.

Jinx’s face softened all at once. “Isha,” she murmured, “why aren’t you eating?”

Not hungry. She was signing with slow, sluggish hands. Tired.

Jinx paused—a short pause—then bounded up. She reached for Isha, heaving her up, and the girl clung to her with need.

 “Okay, Ish, c’mon.” She turned towards the hallway, not bothering to cast him a glance. “I’m putting her to bed early.”

“Jinx—"

“Just—” she turned to face him. Isha’s head was lolling against her shoulder, arms twined around her neck, loosening. “I’m not hungry either. I’ll clean the junk up later, just leave everything.”

Ekko stayed in his chair. His cheeks were hot.

Jinx had no reason to be mad—maybe he should’ve warned her earlier, but it’d just…happened. Things just happened.

He cleared the table out before she got back to do it herself, then stumbled off to bed. He knew she wouldn’t join him, and he bit back resentment at the thought.

That night, he dreamt of a memory.

An old college party—sometime in their sophomore year.

Everything was coated in a layer of deep, dewy red—like some darkroom. Jinx had gotten drunk—one too many shots—and he’d lost her in the house. He’d bounded up the stairs and swung open a bathroom door—and there she was, sitting on the porcelain sink, half inside of it, with some guy shoving his tongue down her throat.

Her shirt was gone—lost, somewhere—and she was left wearing some purple, lacy bra. His hands were low at her waist, brushing against the silky skin of those woven tattoos—and Ekko remembered staring at the way Jinx’s fingers were lost in his hair, tugging.

She looked at him and gasped—her lips were plump and smothered with glossy lipstick—everything blazed red; her skin, her face, her body. He met her eyes—and for whatever reason, somehow, she’d just laughed.

“Close the door, Boy Saviour,” she’d buzzed. Her legs reached out to pry at that nameless boy’s waist, urging him closer. “Unless you wanna fight for it.”

She hadn’t said that last part. Not for real. Not actually…right? He couldn’t remember if that part was memory or dream. Only that it made him stir with something.

When he woke up the next morning, he felt stupidly nauseous.

--

The call came right before one o’clock.

Jinx was working from home again—not wanting to deal with Heimerdinger and his Shakespearean monologues—and she was going over that argument with Ekko for the millionth time in her mind, rewording herself. Wishing she’d said more—less—enough.

She’d tucked Isha into bed and was ready for it—ready to bound into that kitchen and give him all of it. But the table was clean—the counters wiped. He’d already gone off to sleep. And there was no way in hell she was joining him.

Her mattress felt foreign when she slid into it, which was ridiculous, because the mattress was hers. Still, every inch of her felt hot, frothy with conflict. Ekko wasn’t her boyfriend—but regardless, Ekko was hers. She didn’t have time for dates—why the hell did he?

That morning, they’d hardly looked at each other. Isha was sluggish, tired—feigning sickness again, wanting to stay home, saying her stomach hurt—but Ekko’s patience was clipped, and he’d told her school was important, and she was too smart to miss out on it.

Isha didn’t bother wishing her goodbye again—but this time, neither did Ekko.

Jinx huffed. She was sure Seraphine would get a lovely little greeting this morning—a chirpy hello, his pretty smile, his sparkling eyes.

She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been drilling at the metal on her worktable ‘til her phone buzzed to life, and she realized she’d nearly drilled a hole into the desk itself.

Jinx slotted her goggles low, the cord twining at her neck. She peered over at her phone and her heart just dropped.

It was Isha’s school.

Jinx’s voice pierced through the other line, hurried and huffed. “Hello?”

“Miss Lane?” The secretary’s tone was a high-pitched drone.

“Yeah? What happened?” Jinx’s breathing had grown heavy. “Is Isha okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s just sick—"

“Well, that’s not fine, then, is it?”

The woman cleared her throat, tense.

“Uh, she threw up in class.” A gulp sounded out. “Seems to have a little fever. Can you come and pick her up, or should we call Mr. Turner?”

Absolutely not. Ekko was at work, anyway, and she didn’t need him hovering right now—not while knowing where he was going later. She could take care of Isha on her own.

She shot up from her desk, bolting for the entryway. She shoved on her jacket, thrusting her feet into her pre-knotted Sambas. “No! I’m coming—tell her I’m coming now.”

“Isha,” the secretary chimed, her voice farther, “your mom is coming, okay sweetie?”

Jinx froze, halfway through the threshold, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

Mom.

Foster Mom, obviously. Which was what she was—even if she’d tried to avoid the title. It’s not like she was her real mother—not like it mattered. She shoved the dwelling aside.

There was no time for that—Isha needed someone now. Pretend mother, real mother—regardless, Jinx would have to suffice.  

She was early for the bus, though the ride felt long, like it’d been stretched out in slow motion. The secretary buzzed her in before she even made it to the door, and Jinx hardly had to look very far.

There she was—Isha, at the middle of an empty row of tiny, plastic chairs fronting the secretary’s desk.

God, she looked ruined. Jinx’s stomach twisted with guilt, her heart straining—she’d been too lost in her own annoyance, last night and this morning, too. How had she not noticed sooner—this obviously wasn’t one of her little fakings.

Her hair was plastered to the skin of her forehead, and her usual tan was whitened by sickened, colorless cheeks. Her eyes were half-shut, like she was teetering between sleep and consciousness, and the strings of her hoodie were stained with something. Vomit, Jinx figured.

She could’ve shrivelled in disgust. She hated sick things. When Ekko got food poisoning last year, she practically shunned him. The most she did was bring his food and his water and his meds—but never did she linger, never did she comfort.

But Isha wasn’t Ekko—she was a kid. Her responsibility. And Jinx had no choice but to deal—even if it was gross.

She crouched low, brushing a piece of choppy hair by Isha’s forehead, and it took a little while for recognition to flicker in those glassy eyes. At the sight of Jinx, Isha’s chin started to wobble.

“Hey, Bunny,” she crooned. “Heard your breakfast couldn’t hold itself, huh?”

The joke didn’t seem to land.

Isha’s quivering lip gave out—a broken sob slipped out of her. She reached for Jinx in one fell swoop, twining her arms around her neck and crying hard against the leather of her jacket.

Isha was burning—her forehead damp against the skin of Jinx’s cheek. The smell of vomit lingered on her clothes, but Jinx couldn’t pull away. Isha needed her.

“Okay, it’s okay—" her words were hurried, pathetic reassurances. “I’m taking you home. Getting you out, okay?”

Isha nodded against her—or maybe she trembled, Jinx couldn’t tell.

She let out a whine of protest when Jinx tugged away to help slide on her jacket, reaching for Jinx with lazy, desperate hands.

“Hold on,” Jinx mumbled, fiddling with the zipper. “It’s cold out there, I’m just bundling you up.”

Maybe the air would do her some good—she was boiling.

Then—without fuss—Isha readily melted back into Jinx’s arms, sobbing as Jinx plucked her up.

The secretary offered a goodbye, but Jinx could barely muster a response. The early afternoon was thick with February winds, and Isha shivered against her, clutching impossibly tight despite her weakened state.

Jinx never wished she had a car more. But she wouldn’t call Ekko—and even if she did, it’d be longer to wait here than just leave now.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Isha,” Jinx murmured. “I didn’t—I should’ve known.”

Isha said nothing—settling, instead, for nosing her way closer.

Jinx barely caught the bus—hardly anyone was on it. Some elderly women at the front and a teenage boy at the very back.

Jinx dropped herself towards the middle, settling Isha on her lap. Neither of them made to let go—Isha trying to burrow closer, closer, closer. She was sweating now, fully. Jinx cringed at the feel of Isha’s wet nose against her neck.

The bus twined and curled up and down every street. Bumpier than usual, somehow—longer. Isha was groaning against her, whimpering. Her hair was matted down against her forehead, damp and clinging.

Jinx held her tighter—like she could ground her hard enough to make her healthy. Make her believe, at the very least, that she wasn’t on a bumpy, winding city bus.

There was a gag against the collar of her coat and Jinx flinched—expecting something gross—but nothing came, hardly even a cough.  

Please don’t throw up. Please don’t throw up. Please don’t throw up.

The most she could do right now was offer some pathetic excuse of comfort—aimless murmurs of reassurance whispered against the shell of her ear.

“Almost home, Isha.” She brushed a palm against the back of Isha’s head, trailing her fingers through the thick, moistened strands. “Almost there.”

Five minutes later, the bus came to a scampered halt at their stop. Isha groaned at the harsh jolt, gagging out nothing. Jinx bit back a curse—who the hell drove like this.

“Idiot,” she muttered under her breath. She tightened her grip on Isha and stepped off the bus, shooting daggers at the driver. “What, you trynna to make us all puke?”

She half-stumbled, half-ran her way home—Isha heavier in her arms than she had been only twenty minutes ago.

The streets were wet and layered by clouds of low, weeping mist at her feet—the city drenched in dewy billows of grays and whites. Isha was shivering against her, despite her radiating heat, and that alone compelled Jinx to sprint the rest of the way.

She’d be fine. She had to be fine.

She fumbled with the thin, silver key in the pocket of her coat and wedged it into the lock of their apartment door, rushing over to the couch and sinking Isha down onto the cushions. The girl whined, half-asleep, curling into herself.

She looked so small. Smaller than she’d ever looked, and it made Jinx’s heart shatter into scattering pieces inside her chest, cutting up the wiring of her insides.

Jinx sloppily tore off her jacket—then Isha’s—and threw them both in a shaded corner of the living room, where the sun couldn’t quite reach. Isha was clutching at her stomach, her mouth half-open mid gag, and Jinx just froze.

Her voice came out sharper than she’d meant it to. “You gonna be sick again?”

Isha whined, shaking her head no. Jinx wasn’t sure she trusted that. She shot up to the kitchen and hurried back clutching a plastic bag, lodging it into Isha’s tiny, trembling hands.

She reached to pluck Isha’s shoes off. “Just in case, okay?”

Isha weakly nodded, but Jinx felt like none of her words had been registering.

She worked quick—changing Isha out of those vomit-stained clothes and coaxing her into a pair of pajamas, winding her up in a blanket and tucking her into the corner of the couch. She’d grabbed Lepus from her room, too—only after wiping Isha’s face clean with a towel—so the girl could cuddle close to her toy.

The smell was gone, which helped Jinx feel a little less disgusted—a little more productive. She found some old, thin thermometer at the bottom of Ekko’s bedside drawer, and shoved the cool, metal piece under Isha’s tongue. The slender thing made a buzzing, beeping noise and Jinx’s heart dropped.

101.5. Shit. How bad was that? Especially for a kid.

Ekko would know—Ekko’d have the answer. But Ekko was busy. And she wasn’t going to need him—refused to.

It wasn’t like he needed her. And clearly, he trusted her enough with things like this—enough to spend his evenings elsewhere.

She plucked her phone out and Googled her questions instead; 101.5 was okay for a fever—anything above 103, though, was greater cause for concern.

She could manage. For now.

They had some liquid Tylenol in the apartment, somewhere—some bathroom cabinet. Ekko’d bought it before Isha even came—because of course he did. And Jinx took the thick, syrupy medicine to her mouth. Isha whined against the little plastic cup, shaking her head. She’d stopped crying, but she still looked drained.

“C’mon, Bunny,” Jinx fussed, “it’s grape flavored—your favorite.”

Isha drank it all—in fragmented bits—with reluctance, followed by a few careful sips of water.

After, Jinx wet a hand towel under an icy stream in the kitchen—wringing it tight into the sink, then smothering it low against the skin of Isha’s forehead. The girl howled at the coolness, coiling herself deeper under the blanket.

Jinx was sitting by her on the couch, hovering. She hadn’t seemed to need to puke again, which was good. Maybe she’d emptied herself out this morning.

Jinx readjusted the towel, making sure it swept against the whole length of her forehead. “That feel better?”

Isha raised her hands. Her movements were slurred like drunken speech. Cold.

“I know, I know. But we need this damn fever to break,” Jinx mumbled. She felt like shit—like useless shit. But there was nothing else she could do…

Except for one thing. It’d been enough when she was young. She’d been feverish a lot—Vi said it was ‘cause she was so small, so delicate. Fragile. She had the most flus, the most colds. Vander and Vi’s comfort served as an anchor—something to cling to, something steady. As vital as medicine.

Jinx tucked her legs up, properly slouching down against the cushions next to Isha. She lifted the blanket a little—just so it covered the both of them, now—and tugged Isha into her.

“C’mere.”

The girl came willingly, curling up close, drawing an arm around Jinx’s neck—the other, meanwhile, kept Lepus at her chest.

Jinx pressed a kiss to the top of Isha’s head—she was already half-asleep, mumbling feverish wordlessness against her collarbone. “Mmh—mm.”

She couldn’t need Ekko—not right now, not while she was still bubbling with that upset. But God, she couldn’t help but want him.

“It’s okay,” Jinx whispered against the crown of Isha’s head. The words were for Isha, but Jinx hoped maybe they’d serve as a comfort to herself, too. “You’ll be okay.”

--

Isha only grew delirious.

Their nap hadn’t lasted very long—an hour, maybe—before Isha’d started stirring enough to wake Jinx, too.

Jinx tried to pry her close again, tried to lull her back to sleep, but Isha’d gasped—bolted upright, reaching for the plastic bag abandoned on Jinx’s lap and puking straight into it.

“Shit,” Jinx mumbled. She sat upright, a hand at Isha’s back. She’d missed the bag a little, getting some on the blanket. Oh, gross. “Shit.”

Jinx shot up, taking both bag and blanket with her—handing Isha a bowl from the kitchen this time, just in case—and whisked the fuzzy, yellow blanket straight into the laundry basket.

When she returned, Isha had started crying again—tiny, whimpering sobs—her eyes glossier than they had been this morning. Isha’s hands moved sluggishly as she signed, sorry. Sorry.

Jinx’s heart broke. “What are you sorry for? You’re sick—this is just what happens, kid.”

Mad, Isha signed. Are you?

Jinx frowned. “No,” she cooed, “I’m not mad, swear it. I’m just—I’m not very good at this, I guess.”

Isha whimpered, then reached for her. Jinx sighed—Isha was settling for her, Jinx figured, ‘til Ekko came back from his stupid date and knew how to handle it. Jinx flopped on the couch, pulling Isha into her lap, running a hand against her arm—

Her boiling arm. Hotter than it’d been earlier.

Jinx’s heart stuttered. She drew a hand to Isha’s forehead—oh, it was worse.

She tugged the thermometer from the coffee table, slugging it back under Isha’s tongue and cringing when she saw the number. 102.1

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. Isha was already half-asleep against her again, though whining, and Jinx knew she had to work quick.

She plopped Isha off her, returning to the kitchen to wet and wring another towel. She gently slid it down against Isha’s forehead. It clung to her too-warm skin, beads of cold spilling down onto her temples.

Then she offered Isha more water to drink. She didn’t want it, but Jinx insisted—persisted. Isha was stubborn, but she gave in a little easier when she was sick.

Isha drank a little more than half the glass, which would do for now, then slouched back down.

Blanket, she signed slowly.

Jinx bit her lip. “I don’t know, kid,” she said, “not a good idea with that fever.”

But Isha was shivering, and the sight made Jinx’s stomach churn. She opted for the thinnest blanket she had—one that wouldn’t keep Isha dwelling in her own feverish sick, then brushed her hair until she finally fell back asleep.

She slept longer that time. Nearly two hours. But when she woke, it was worse—so much worse.

Jinx hadn’t even realized she’d dozed off herself, too, until Isha’s whining grew loud enough to rouse her.

Isha was clutching at her stomach, her tiny fists trembling. Her face was flushed, her lips dry and cracked, and her breathing was shallow, uneven.

“Hey, hey,” Jinx murmured, shaking off the fog of sleep. She sat up quickly, pulling Isha upright with her. “What’s wrong? What hurts?”

Isha’s hands moved sluggishly; her signs fragmented. Stomach. Hot. Hurts.

Jinx’s heart raced. Isha leaned heavily against her, her small body radiating heat like a furnace. Jinx reached for the thermometer again, her hands unsteady as she slid it under Isha’s tongue.

The beep came too fast. She barely had time to brace herself before the number blinked up at her.

102.9.

What the fuck.

How was that possible? How had she made it worse? She did everything Google told her to—every tip, every trick. She’d given her two doses of Tylenol by now—re-wet the towel at her head, gave her the thinnest blanket in the house.

It came like the snap of a branch—like the pound of a fist—there was no slow, cautious leak this time. No hesitation.

“It’s you,” the voice in her head mumbled. The voice came thick and burly, like Vander’s—though more slurred, heavier. “You’re the jinx. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

Jinx jolted. She hadn’t had an intrusion so clear in months. But she should’ve seen it coming. The storm yesterday, the pressure of Cait and Vi’s engagement with the Kiramman’s…Ekko’s date. And now this.

No, no, no. An episode couldn’t come now. Not with—not with Isha so—

“Mmah,” the girl was whining. She was feverishly reaching out again, seeking Jinx’s arms around her.

Fuck. Jinx had no choice—the episode would take its full attention from her soon if she didn’t ground herself.

She was only making things worse for Isha, anyway. And the girl needed help—deserved help. Better than what Jinx had offered her.                                                                                    

Worse, worse, worse.

With shaking, heavy hands, she dialled Ekko.

--

Seraphine took Ekko to some cozy bar downtown, where everything seemed to be made of brick and wood. Burly, sepia tables—Edison bulbs, strung up high on the red, brick walls. It felt like some New York bar more than some San Francisco one, but Ekko didn’t mind it.

Really, he didn’t have much of an opinion on anything. His mind wasn’t exactly in it. Seraphine looked beautiful, dressed in some sleeveless tube top with her hair spilling down—but his mind was still glued on Jinx. Her upset, her annoyance, her audacity.

They weren’t anything. So why did she care so much? Why’d she get so upset? Why did it matter where—

“Ekko?” Seraphine was eyeing him across the table, wide-eyed and shiny. She glowed beneath the lights—literally, her skin was sparkly, like she’d coated it in some kind of diamond lotion. “You still on Earth?”

“Yeah—yeah, I’m sorry.” He reached for his glass of wine—some too-dry Merlot. “We were saying…”

“About Claggor,” Seraphine reminded, “the kid who almost slapped him for drawing blood.”

“Oh! Yeah, right,” Ekko mumbled. “Poor guy—he always gets the worst cases, huh?”

Seraphine hesitated. She bit her lip, leaning closer. She pried for his hands against the tabletop, her fingers warm.

“I’m glad you came out tonight,” she said. “You seem like the kind of guy who doesn’t take enough breaks.”

Ekko shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Guilt felt heavy at his heart. “Maybe. But breaks aren’t always an option when you’ve got people counting on you.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, but before she could respond, Ekko’s phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with Jinx’s name.

He frowned. Jinx knew where he was. She wouldn’t call. Unless…

“Sorry,” he said quickly, grabbing the phone. “I should take this.”

Seraphine waved it off with an easy smile. “Go ahead. I’ll order us another round.”

Ekko stepped outside, the cool night air biting at his skin. He dragged his thumb across the screen to pick up the call. “Jinx? What’s up?”

“Ekko.” Her voice was desperate—quiet, and his heart sank low—too low. He knew that tone.

“Hey,” he murmured, his tone careful, albeit urgent. “What happened? Tell me.”

“It’s—Isha’s sick.” There was a whine somewhere on the other line—one that wasn’t hers. “It was better before but—God, she’s worse. I think I made it worse. I made it worse. I don’t—I don’t know how—"

“Wha—” his breath hitched. “What’s her temp?”

“It was 101 in the afternoon but, fuck—it’s at 102.9 now.” Afternoon? How long had Isha been sick for? Jinx was practically heaving on the other line. “She’s miserable, Ekko. I don’t know if I should take her to the hospital, or—”

“I’m coming home,” he interrupted.

“Ekko—I—I’m making it worse—“

“Jinx, stop,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “You’re doing what you can. I’m coming home. Don’t do anything until I get there, okay? Just try to keep her comfortable.”

There was a long pause before she whispered, finally, “okay.”

Ekko ended the call and stepped back into the bar—he reached for his coat, and Seraphine’s smile faltered.

“Everything okay?” she asked, concern etching her features.

“I’m really sorry,” Ekko said, the words tumbled and unsteady. “Isha—our kid—she’s really sick, and I need to get home.”

Seraphine’s expression softened immediately. “Of course. Don’t worry about it. Go.”

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing his coat. “I’ll—uh, I’ll text you.”

She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Take care of her, Ekko.”

--

The front door swung open with a shrill groan, rattling against its hinges as Ekko rushed inside.

His chest heaved, his shirt damp from his sprint up the stairs.

He paused—just for a second—at the threshold, taking in the sight before him.

Jinx was sitting cross-legged on the couch, Isha cradled against her chest. The girl’s face was flushed deep red—she was trembling under a thin, cotton blanket.

Jinx’s face was pinched—she looked like she was hardly keeping herself together. The apartment was silent—no television hum, no radio static. Only Isha’s broken breaths—the cars that wooshed by outside.

Jinx had snapped her head to him, eyes widening with relief.

“Ekko.” Her tone was a tremble. Her eyes were wide, almost desperate, and there was a faint sheen of tears clinging to her lashes. “I—I don’t know what else to do.”

Ekko was already moving, dropping his bag near the door and crossing the room in quick, choppy strides. He crouched beside the couch, his hands brushing over Isha’s arm before finding the moistened skin of her forehead.

She was burning.

“How long has it been like this?” His voice came out shakier than he’d intended.

“It’s only been this high for half an hour now.”

Ekko reached for the cup of water on the coffee table, urging it to Isha’s mouth. “Was she sick in class?”

“Less feverish. But she threw up,” Jinx mumbled. “I picked her up early.”

Ekko frowned. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t—" Jinx bit her lip, rethinking. “I should’ve. I wish I had now, believe me.”

Isha was whining between them, and Ekko gulped. Now wasn’t the time to fight with Jinx over her decision not to reach out. “It’s okay, Isha—you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” He looked at Jinx.

“When’d you last give her Tylenol?”

“A few minutes ago—I had to wait four hours since the last time.”

“Okay, that’s good—it should kick in soon,” he said, “stay with her.”

“But—my mind isn’t—”

“Just one second.”

He hurried to his bag and reached for some Gatorade he’d gotten at work—the electrolytes would be enough to help. The liquid was mild, so he poured it over a glass of ice and offered Isha the cup.

She took reluctant sips, with Ekko insisting it’d help. Jinx looked like she was losing herself, and Ekko knew she didn’t want Isha to witness an episode—ever.

“Hey,” he murmured, “do you wanna go… cool off.”

He could see the guilt in her face—see the way her arms tightened around Isha before loosening again, like the hold itself was some unspoken apology.

“I—” she stammered. “Yeah. I’m not doin’ much good for her anyway.”

“Jinx—” but she didn’t hear the rest of it. She handed Isha over to him, the girl deliriously stirring, and stumbled off to her room, the door clicking behind her in a quick, somber echo.

He swallowed hard. Isha was a boiler in his arms, and he had to work quick—had to pretend like this was work.

Only, this wasn’t. This was his kid. This was worse, and he felt scared. A fever this high was dangerous, and any higher would be cause to send her to the hospital—and he couldn’t let that slide.

But he was good at this. He was good with people. She’d be okay—she had to be.

Quickly, Ekko ran her a bath—lukewarm, just for a couple of minutes, to help drop the fever—then put her into bed. Not beneath the blankets, despite her grumbling pleas—her duvet was too thick, and it wouldn’t do her any good.

Gently, he spent ten minutes coaxing her into drinking what was left of the Gatorade—she needed the electrolytes. He’d put a cold towel at her forehead and one on each of her arms.

After a while, she grew more alert—less feverish. Her eyes widened from their prior squint, and he could see the amber of them, glossy and tired. The Tylenol had kicked in; along with everything else.

“How you feeling, Bunny?”

She half-shrugged, the movement slothful. Her hands stirred, careful and slow, so the towels wouldn’t fall off the skin of her arms. Jinx.

Ekko sighed softly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from Isha’s forehead. “She’ll be back soon,” he murmured. “She’s just a little tired.”

Isha shook her head weakly, her hands signing with sluggish determination. Want her now.

His chest tightened. He glanced toward hallway, debating. She needed the space, that much was clear, but so did Isha—needed her. Maybe it’d help, he figured, for Jinx to see Isha was better—that she hadn’t ruined in the way he knew she thought she did.

“Okay,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Isha’s temple. “I’ll go get her.”

Isha’s fingers curled into his shirt briefly before she let go, nodding faintly.

Ekko stumbled into the hallway, knocking at Jinx’s door in gentle taps. There was no response, but he settled on letting his way in anyway.

Jinx was curled up at the middle of her bed, clutching to herself, her back to the door. He couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine it well enough.

“She’s asking for you.”

“I—no," Jinx whispered. “Don’t want her to see me like this.” There was a pause, her head lifting. “Is she—"

“She’s better...but she’s still sick,” he said, “and she doesn’t care what you’re like. She just wants you.”

“I just—”she stammered, her words wrung. “I’ll make it worse.”

“That’s just in your head,” he said, “the fever dropped because of the Tylenol you knew to give her. The water you made her drink. You gotta give yourself a break, Jinx—things just happen.”

She didn’t make a sound. Silent, she stayed, curled on the mattress and still as a log.

Was she still mad at him?

“Just, please,” he practically begged. “Not for me—for Isha.”

Ekko stepped back slightly as Jinx heaved a breathy sigh, the sound ragged, like it was dragging itself out of her. Without another word, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.

Mascara dirtied her face in rivered streaks of black, smudged beneath her eyes. She hardly looked at him, and Ekko found himself chasing her gaze—seeking it out. She brushed past him, shooting him a quickened look.

He followed her into Isha’s room, where Isha lay listlessly on the bed. At the sight of Jinx, the girl’s eyes brightened, weak but unmistakable.

Jinx curled up next to her, and Isha nuzzled close. There was relief purely from the presence of her, and Ekko made his way to her other side, so she could be cocooned between them. She was less warm now, though still too hot for her to be okay.

She clung to Ekko’s arm—then Jinx’s. Her hands moved lazily between them. Don’t go. 

Jinx’s eyes widened. Ekko frowned.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he promised. “We’re both here. We’re both saying here.”

Isha looked at both of them for a while—making sure they weren’t lying—then slowly, she let herself dip back into the sleep she desperately needed.

What came next from Jinx was a lull—delicate words on her small, reddened mouth.

“I was… really fuckin’ scared.” She brushed a strand of hair away from Isha’s face, fingers lingering at her cheek. “Sometimes, I just—I think she’s better off elsewhere.”

Ekko shook his head. “I don’t think she’d agree with that.”

“Maybe not,” Jinx murmured. “But she’s seven. What does she know?”

“That you care for her,” he said. “Took care of her.”

“And what a job I did.” She squeezed her eyes shut, like she was closing something off in her head—shutting something down. “Had to call you.”

“You’re acting like I made such a difference. I’m scared too, Jinx. I’m scared every day. All the time. I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing—like I’m lost—like I’m too hard on her one day, too lenient another.” His voice came shakier than he wanted it. “But don’t you think Vander was scared, too? I know Benzo was—always went on about wingin’ it with me.”

He chuckled distantly at the memory, and Jinx blinked at him—eyes softening. The room was purely shadowed—tinged only a tiny, dim yellow from the firelight nightlight Isha kept by her bed.

After a minute of silence, Jinx spoke again. Her voice croaked into the nothingness. “I’m sorry I ruined your little…date.”

She didn’t sound very sorry. But he wasn’t very sorry either.

Maybe that was a problem.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t think we were cut out for each other anyway.”

“Oh—” her voice was wispy, curling—playful. He could’ve drowned in the sound forever. “What made you come to that genius conclusion, huh?”

Ekko shrugged. “She just…” he trailed off. “Isn’t right for me.”

“You don’t seem all that broken up about it,” Jinx said, her tone lighter, probing.

Ekko shrugged, his fingers brushing lightly against Isha’s tiny hand where it clung to the blanket. “Wasn’t meant to be. Besides…” He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly. “There are more important things.”

Jinx watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, her shoulders slumping as if some invisible weight had dissipated—crushed by his words.

They fell asleep soon after—curled up like that—with too much still left unsaid.

Chapter Text

Isha’s fever wholly dropped by Sunday—though not without more coaxing, more dwelling.

Jinx and Ekko hovered close—ceaseless figures, always wary of leaving her alone, taking turns sleeping while the other stayed awake. Often, Jinx watched Ekko while he slept, curled close by Isha—let her eyes linger on the swell of his arms and the hollow dips of his cheeks—the rise and fall of his stomach with each steady breath.

Ekko hadn’t mentioned his date again, and Jinx hadn’t pried. She preferred to forget about it. Not that it lasted long, anyway—could hardly call it a date at all.

The thought made Jinx feel oddly content.

But whatever—none of that mattered. They had bigger fish to fry that weekend, anyway.

Neither admitted it, but there was a constant lasting concern, a looming anxiety—like Isha would disappear into the night, like the fever would worsen—flare up again, take her under its stifling hand and keep her there, where Jinx just couldn’t reach her.

By Monday morning, Isha was eating better—no more of that mild, salty chicken broth she could hardly keep down—though still, she wasn’t quite herself. Too sleepy, her movements sluggish. She nibbled on dry, buttered toast only for the sake of Ekko’s constant coaxing.

“It’ll make you strong again,” he’d urged, shoving the plate closer. Jinx was sure he’d feed it to her with his bare hands if he had to. “You need it.”

Isha scowled, but she listened. She didn’t like feeling sick almost as much as she didn’t like school. That Monday morning, she seemed relieved when she didn’t have to ask either of them to stay home. There was simply no question about it. They’d have to pry Isha from Jinx’s stubborn arms to get her away—and not without a fight.

Instead, the three of them stayed slouched on that olive, cushioned couch with Ekko prying over Isha like she’d cough out a lung if he wasn’t watchful enough.

Jinx had seen him at work before, but never like this; so careful and gentle and meticulous. He’d taken care of Jinx tons of times while she’d been sick, but it was different to watch—to see the way his eyes focused when he was convincing Isha to give in to his asks. The wilful worry of his jaw when he drew the wrung, cold towel to the too-warm skin of Isha’s forehead. The words of reassurance that kept her comforted—always sweet, always determined.

He was so good at it. Natural. And while Jinx knew she wasn’t, Isha still sought her out like she was.

She liked to tuck herself up under Jinx’s arms, climb onto her lap, burrow close. She gracelessly pried at Jinx’s fingers ‘til she abided, braiding and unbraiding the damp, unruly strands at Isha’s head, lulling her into an eventual sleep.

Sometimes, Jinx would catch glimpses of Ekko’s smile while he watched. He wasn’t bashful with it.

“Someone’s got you wrapped around their finger, huh?”

Jinx rolled her eyes. Her words were a sharpened whisper above Isha’s head. She’d dropped a palm to the ear not pressed against her chest—only to be sure Isha wouldn’t wake, which hadn’t helped her case.

“Please,” she muttered, “you’re one to talk.”

By Tuesday, the color had come back to Isha’s face. The exhaustion plastered there had dissipated—replaced, finally, by that usual eager stride—that sly, sneaky smile. She’d slapped her hat back on—backwards, the way she always had it—and that alone was enough for Jinx to know the kid was back to herself.

They let her stay home on Tuesday, too, for good measure. But by the time Wednesday rolled around—sunny and pleasant—Isha had started faking a pitiful cough, and the both of them knew better.

“Bunny,” Ekko tutted—he was stuffing a sandwich into her lunchbox on the kitchen counter while she fiddled with a fatty slab of bacon on her greasy, plastic plate. Jinx was sitting next to her with a mug of half-finished coffee—already dressed for her shift—absently snorting at Instagram reels under her breath. Isha was shooting her dirty looks at her dismissal. “You can’t stay outta school forever.”

Isha raised her brows, slouching low into her seat with a daring face; the kind that meant try me. Jinx laughed, which only deepened Isha’s scowl. She reached over to tug at the bill of Isha’s cap.

“You oughta up your actin’ game, Isha,” she chided. “Now that we know what you’re like when you’re sick for real—there’s no more catching us slacking.”

Isha glared at her. She shoved her plate away, the flimsy thing hardly scraping at the wood of the table. She folded her arms, her tiny frame sinking further into the chair. For a moment, she seemed ready to dig her heels in and refuse, but when Jinx drew out a hand to pinch at her nose, her defiance faltered—a tiny giggle threatening to slip out.

Jinx dropped her voice low—it softened more than she’d wanted, but she chose to ignore it.

“Hey, don’t be like that.” She tugged at one of Isha’s short, choppy braids. “We’re heading to the mall this weekend for that silly, fancy party—and you love shopping, don’t ya?”

Isha shrugged half-heartedly, but there was a sliver of interest etched in her features that hadn’t been there moments ago. She peeked up at Jinx with an eye squinted—curious.

“We’ll get you whatever you want,” Jinx promised. “And snacks, too.”

Isha pursed her lips. She was considering it hard, looking at Jinx to determine if she was lying—trying to trick her somehow.

After a while, she nodded solemnly. Her hands moved with choppy resolve when she eventually signed, okay.

Ekko slipped into the seat across from Jinx, chewing at a piece of toast. He offered her a stupid wink and she just flushed. “Now look who’s gotten into bribery.”

“Don’t start with me.”

When a piece of bacon soared across the table and smacked Ekko straight on the cheek, Jinx couldn’t mind the blubbery grease that tainted the yellow-brown of their hardwood floors. Isha’s giddy laugh made Ekko’s scolding worth it.  

--

They drove to some busy indoor mall at the heart of the city—the vast kind, with sunlight breaking through those high-perched glass ceilings. There were too many stores to keep track, a food court the size of Texas. Ekko swore his way through the parking lot, swarming with young, shiny couples in their flashy Teslas—busy families crammed in burly Jeeps and humble Toyotas.

Ekko parked in some narrow spot by a massive, concrete pillar. The car’s left mirror grazed against the grime of it, scraping at the paint. The Subaru was old and flaked enough, anyway—what was a little more?

It was a windy Saturday morning, and the mall was packed. The smell of briny ocean caked over everything—some thin, sheen layer of California coast that always found its way to bleed through.

Once inside, Ekko fished for Isha’s hand, tugging her close—worried, somehow, that the girl would run off and get lost. She was eyeing the mall with wide, curious eyes—soaking it up and letting it sit. The place was massive—new and inviting—and he didn’t want her getting any ideas. Lord knew she was a runner.

Jinx, meanwhile, seemed entirely aloof. She was tucked close on Ekko’s other side, casting daggered glances at people who brushed too close to her—to Isha. He already knew she wanted this over with, but they had three whole outfits to get through, and Ekko wasn’t sure how long that’d take.

“We should start with Isha,” Jinx said, popping at a piece of bubble gum. Isha blinked up at her, smiling. “Star of the show, after all—no one tell the Queen of Sheba.”

They made their way to some family-owned shop in a quieter corner—toys were perched on elongated wooden shelves high above the racks, drawing attention. There were already too many parents in here, coaxing their crying, unwilling children into trying on clothes they didn’t care for.

Isha clung closer, wary herself of the racks. She liked shopping, but Ekko guessed not for something so…grand.

“How ‘bout this one.” Jinx plucked at the hem of some pleated purple dress with a healthy number of sequins—something simple enough, but still fit for the gala.

Isha practically snarled. Ekko flinched at the sight. She shook her head, fervent. No dress.

Jinx and Ekko shared a pointed glance—she looked as taken aback as he felt, but she composed herself quickly enough.

“Right—okay, no dress then.” She dropped a hand at the worn button of Isha’s cap. The kid still looked offended, almost, at the implication of a dress.  “Should’ve figured, huh?”

Isha nodded—her face taut—but still she pressed into Jinx’s touch like it’d become second nature, hovering close as they scoured the narrow, busy aisles for something else.

Eventually, they settled on some options. Isha gladly opted for some navy-blue pants and a white dress shirt, accompanied by an open vest—the same shade of blue, too, to match the pants. She looked great—looked like herself.

Ekko high-fived her once they’d folded the clothes up at the register. They were out of there in practically less than forty-five minutes, which was pretty impressive. “You’ll look like a million bucks, kid.”

Jinx tucked herself close, dropping her chin to Ekko’s shoulder, burrowing. She was heaving Isha’s bag on her wrist, lodging it close to his side in an attempt to poke him with the flimsy corners. Her breath was hot on the skin of his neck, and he found himself swallowing hard at the whisper. “Your turn, pretty boy.”

“Alright,” he said. Jinx was still close enough for him to drop a kiss to the flush skin of her cheek—so he did. “But you two need to keep your opinions to yourselves. I don’t want a peanut gallery.”

Isha grinned mischievously, and Jinx smirked. “No promises,” she teased.

The suit shop they found was impossibly quieter—no families, and hardly any customers at all—with sleek lines of suits and dress shirts, neatly hung and organized by size and color. Ekko drifted toward the simpler options, brushing his fingers over soft fabric with a casual eye. He liked classics—something he would wear again; the kind of thing that wouldn’t age.

Jinx and Isha trailed after him, though Jinx’s sharp commentary was anything but subtle.

“That one’s too corporate,” she mumbled, pointing at the gray suit Ekko was watching. Isha toyed with some ugly patterned tie on the tabled display, frowning at it like it’d personally insulted her. She looked ridiculously like Jinx—down to that pinched scowl—and it was starting to get uncanny. “It’s a party. You’re not tryna pitch stocks, are ya?”

Ugh. Seriously. There was nothing wrong with the suit.

“Since when do you care for this party?” Ekko shot, raising an eyebrow. “And I thought you were supposed to be keeping your opinions to yourself.”

“I don’t care,” Jinx insisted. “But I can’t have you looking like a dud. Keep going.”

Eventually, he settled on a simple black suit—sharp but understated. He pulled it from the rack, glancing at Jinx. “Happy now?”

She paused, considering. “Try it on first,” Jinx said, waving toward the fitting rooms. “Won’t know until we see it.”

Ekko bit back his groan—he was going to try it, but he admittedly felt less inclined to now that Jinx had told him to do so. She could be stupidly bossy, sometimes, and he wasn’t even sure she realized it. Not that he wasn’t either—but it was different when she did it. Got under his skin in ways that made him itchy—made him reactive.

An employee guided him to some massive closed-door trying room, and outside he could hear Jinx warn Isha not to fiddle with the slender, weary rack of bow-ties before the whole thing fell and toppled over her. He adjusted the polished buttons of the dress shirt, leaving the skin at the very top of his chest exposed enough not to suffocate him. The pants fit well, though he might’ve needed a belt—the blazer worked, too, he supposed.

Ekko heaved open the door—the burly thing unlocking with a click—and cleared his throat.

Jinx was leaning against the wall, fingering a silky, silver tie clip. When she saw him, her face just fell. Her eyes widened—mouth dropping. He could see the dip of her tight, hollow throat; swallowing.

“Does it look okay?” he asked. His voice was casual, though his hands couldn’t help but fidget self-consciously with the hem of the jacket. He hadn’t worn a suit in a long time—not since his college grad, maybe—and he’d changed since. He shot a glance at himself in the outer mirror wall. “Don’t think it needs any adjustments, right?”

Jinx stared, her mouth opening like she made to speak—but for a little while, nothing seemed to stumble out. She tore her gaze from the sharp cut of his silhouette to his face—cheeks tinged red. She looked almost…angry?

“Yeah—yeah, no more car-salesman-vibe,” she mumbled. “Looks…good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, good,” she said, her voice was a tease. A smile had creeped up on her mouth, but there was an impatient edge of sharpness there, too. “Didn’t think you’d need me to write you a sonnet ‘bout it—but if you insist.”

Ekko snorted. “No thanks,” he said, his voice tinged sugary, “I remember your Shakespearean literature elective grade.”

Isha—who’d been leaning against the opposing wall—handed him a wild thumbs-up. She was looking at Jinx almost as hard as she’d been looking at him. Always dissecting, she was.

Ekko grinned back at her. “Looks like I’m taking it, then.”

Jinx pushed off the wall, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she gave him one last, lingering look.

“Alright, let’s pay for it before you start getting any ideas about adding cufflinks or whatever,” she muttered, brushing past him with a flip of her braid.

Slipping the suit off in the dressing room—tugging his own jeans back on—Ekko tried not to consider the drop of Jinx’s jaw. The plump, slack, openness of her mouth when she saw him—and the hot way his stomach felt at the thought.

--

After grabbing Ekko’s lavish getup, they spent time shopping for other things. Isha needed a nice pair of shoes—some basic Mary-Janes, while Ekko opted for a new pair of black leather ones. Jinx had some old heels lost somewhere in her closet, but still she found herself eyeing a sharp pair of black stilettos with an angled, pointed tip.

Ekko told her to get them, and she figured she should—she didn’t exactly spend so much on clothes, anyway, and this was a good enough reason to.

She was reaching for her card when Ekko snatched the shoebox from her grip, planting it down next to his and Isha’s.

She nudged him. “What’re you doin’?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He hardly shot her a glance—annoyingly calm, really, as he handed the cashier his card before she could protest. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Her brow furrowed. “What favor?”

“You bought Isha’s outfit,” Ekko said simply, nodding towards the girl. She was busy looking at a pair of sneakers near the front of the store, running her fingers over the coarse texture. “Least I can do is cover yours.”

Jinx blinked, caught off guard by the indifference of it. “That’s no favor, she’s our—” she cut herself off. Kid, she meant to say.

Ekko was looking at her weird, like he didn’t get why she’d stopped mid sentence. Despite himself, he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter—can’t let you buy everything.”

For years, they’d bought each other casual gifts—took turns with grocery costs. Lately, they’d split the fees of Isha’s toys and clothes and school supplies. But undeniably this was…different. Him buying the three of them a pair of stupid shoes shouldn’t have her feeling so conflicted, but there was something undeniable about it. Something familial, she supposed. Like they were the kind of…people who shared a joint bank account.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he shot her a look—steady, unyielding. His eyes were hard and warm in the way she liked them. 

“Don’t bother fighting this.” He reached to brush a piece of hair that fell too close to her eyes, his fingers lingering at the skin of her cheek. “I won’t let you win.”

She frowned but didn’t push it further, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Fine,” she muttered, though there was no real bite in her tone.

Isha wandered back over, her small hand tugging at Jinx’s jacket sleeve. She signed quickly, pointing at the shoebox that was being shoved into a bag. You like them?

Jinx looked down at her—Isha’s eyes were wide, expectant. Her hair was getting longer now, and Jinx tugged at one of her choppy, brown braids.

“’Course, Bunny,” she said, flashing her a smile. “I love ‘em.”

By the time they were done with shoes, it was nearing one o’clock, and Jinx was growing tired. The mall was only getting more crowded, and she hardly cared to be here for much longer. She hated the sardined feel of too many people—the overstimulation of noise and clatter. It made her head hurt—made slip ups easier.

Sometimes, overhearing the distant murmur of conversation felt a lot like the noise in her head—the voice. Sometimes, it was hard to tell the difference between what was real and what wasn’t.

When she was tired, it only got worse.

She spotted a Philz a little in the distance—a California-based coffee chain brimming with people—and Jinx took her chances. It’d be worse if she went through this tired—she wouldn’t settle for just any dress. And she wanted it done with today, even if the party was still a ways away.

She tugged on the rough sleeve of Ekko’s jean jacket, turning towards Philz. He was heaving most bags while she carried the others, though unlike her, he hadn’t complained once. “I need a coffee.”

Ekko nodded quickly—there was concern etched in his face and Jinx figured her voice must’ve faltered. It might’ve. He knew her better than she knew herself—each hitch of breath, each uneven beat.

He hauled an arm across Isha’s shoulders to guide her in the right direction—she was staring aimlessly around. “You want a snack, Ish?”

Isha nodded eagerly—she probably needed more than just a snack. They’d had a big breakfast, but it was time enough for lunch.

The line stretched out long—maybe a dozen people still in front, but at least it was going rather quick.  

While they waited, Jinx and Isha started a silly game of Patty Cake—though Isha liked playing with Ekko a whole lot better than Jinx, given he kinda sucked, and it made Isha giggle hard enough for her to whip her head back, braids flailing.

“How’d you get worse,” Jinx teased after a particularly bad match—he hardly caught Isha’s slaps. “I could swear you were better when we were kids, and that’s saying something.”

“Used to practice daily back then, thanks to you,” he laughed. “Gotta up my game again, I guess.”

Facing them, Isha tugged on both their sleeves, eager for attention. Her hands moved slowly, like she wanted them to really get it. How long?

Jinx’s brow furrowed. She shot a glance at the line. “Probably five more minutes, Bunny. You gettin’ bored of us?”

Isha shook her head, half frustrated. She was wearing some too-big sweater she’d once begged Jinx for—patterned like mismatched pieces of colorful fabric.

No, she signed. Then something else—something Jinx recognized from not too long ago. Friends?

Oh.

Jinx and Ekko’s eyes met. His brow raised, and he frowned in thought. “I think…since we were about your age,” he looked at Jinx, “right?”

Jinx nodded. “Yeah, sounds about accurate.”

Isha pursed her lips, curious. How?

They’d told Isha they were foster kids before—a while back, when she’d first showed and they wanted her to feel like she belonged—like they understood her in ways others might not. But otherwise, Jinx realized she didn’t know much about their youth. She’d mentioned Vander in passing before, but Isha never pried for questions.

“We met at some stupid foster-party-thing the state held,” Jinx recalled. “Our dads forced us to go—guess it turned out to be a decent idea after all.”

Ekko, Jinx and Vi had hit it off immediately—she and Ekko must’ve been seven, maybe a little older. Vi was already ten, and liked to act like she knew everything a whole lot better than the rest of them, but she’d taken enough of a liking to Ekko to stick around.

It was some outdoor-beach thing, and Ekko was the only kid willing to hear Jinx out about some piece of junk contraption she’d been working on—she had lugged it with her to the event, despite Vander telling her to leave it at home. It was an explosive piece of metal that emitted a colorful burst of chalky powder. Well…it was supposed to.

She’d clipped the string; waiting…waiting… waiting. For nothing. Stranded, it lolled in the warm, golden sand like a no-good piece of garbage someone had accidentally fished out of the ocean.

It hadn’t worked, but Ekko didn’t mind. Powder snatched it back into her arms, cradling it like a doll, her bottom lip quivering. She was one hell of a crybaby back then.

“Hey, it’s still cool,” he’d said—he’d had to look up at her a little, since she had been taller than him. “The way you made it look like a whole mouth with teeth—that’s awesome!”

Powder had flushed beet red. Apart from Vi, he was the only other person who seemed to think so.

After that day, Jinx remembered asking Vander if she could see Ekko again—begging for him to come over—for her to go there; for them to meet somewhere.

Eventually, Benzo and Vander grew close enough and got tired of Ekko and Jinx’s constant pleading—Vi had started middle school, and Powder felt abandoned, so they’d decidedly shipped them off to the same school. Jinx hadn’t minded transferring if it meant being with Ekko—she didn’t exactly have friends at her old school, anyway.

She looked at him now and soaked him up. The slope of his nose—the edge of his jaw. They’d both changed a lot since—but still he was that boy she’d met at the beach—the one who didn’t mind it when her invention flopped; the one who pretended it was cool.

Still, after everyone left—pried from her life as if taken by invisible hands—he was still here. He stayed. Even when she’d gone—even when she’d been the one forced to leave—he’d found her again, somehow. Webbed his way back into her life all at once, like he’d never parted it at all. On accident sure, but that still counted.

Maybe, even, that meant more.

She was still looking at Ekko when Isha let out a tiny groan, snapping Jinx out of her head. Her hands moved lazily. Don’t want to go to one of those.

Ekko huffed a laugh. “Why not?” He said, “you might miss out on making a lifelong friend.”

Isha’s face fell—she bit her lip, doubtful. Don’t think so.

Jinx frowned. There was something Isha wasn’t telling them.

At first, Jinx figured Isha just didn’t care for homework. Then she thought maybe the girl preferred staying at home, hanging with the two of them. But lately, Jinx couldn’t help but question if it was something else—something worse.

Jinx’s heart clenched at the thought of some dumb, stupid twerp being mean to her—to her…kid.

Her kid. She’d almost slipped up earlier and she was right for it. That’s what Isha was now, wasn’t it? Hers.

Though that wouldn’t be permanent. Isha would have to leave like everyone else did, tumbling into the arms of a real, proper family—a real house—where she could be sustained in ways Jinx didn’t think she could provide.

Still, Jinx feared the feeling would stay. That she’d go the rest of her life feeling like some vital part of her had been stolen. Half of her heart split from her chest—roaming the other corner of the city, living in some pretty, pastel home by the coast—Jinx and Ekko hardly solid memories in Isha’s mind; a ditzy, wild blur of childhood.

But that wasn’t reality yet. And for now, they were still here for her; whole and real and all she had. And Jinx had to be sure nothing hurt her while she still could.

She was going to pry further into Isha’s reply—dig in ways she knew Isha would try to avoid, but their turn in line had finally come, and the girl was pressing her finger against the smudged glass of displayed pastries.

She was pointing hard at some chocolate croissant, and Ekko ordered for the three of them—two iced lattes, one hot chocolate, three bagels and, obviously, one chocolate croissant.

As the barista handed over their receipt and told them it would be a few minutes, Jinx stepped aside with Ekko and Isha to wait near the pickup counter. Ekko dropped a hand at Isha’s shoulder, jokingly prodding. “Alright, Bunny, you’re all set for now. You can stop drilling holes through the glass with your finger.”

Jinx’s mouth quirked into a small smile—she opened her mouth to speak when—

“Ekko?”

Jinx’s head snapped to her left. There—standing under some pearly, gleaming light—was a girl with long, pastel pink hair. It was pulled up in a thick, shiny ponytail that curled against the knit, eggshell color of her sweater.

She was holding a to-go cup and smiling—some pretty, white grin—and had she not said Ekko’s name in such a syrupy way, Jinx would’ve called her hot—like, stupidly hot.

But she was looking at Ekko with more than familiarity—she was surely no stranger, this girl, and that alone alerted Jinx’s caution. Jinx had never seen her before, and she knew all of Ekko’s old college friends.

She wasn’t lost on the way Ekko’s face just froze. He was staring at the pretty girl like she was a honeyed ghost—like she’d come back from the dead.

“Hey—” an awkward smile twitched on his mouth. The forced kind. “Seraphine, hi.”

Seraphine? This was the girl he’d gone on a date with…the coworker?

The girl—Seraphine—widened that little, pink mouth of hers. She reached over to pat at Ekko’s arm, and Jinx flinched. “Oh my God, it’s so funny seeing you here!”

Jinx scoffed. “Really?” She couldn’t help the snappy tone. “It’s a public mall. Everyone’s here.”

Seraphine’s eyes widened unexpectedly. She looked back at Ekko, her mouth agape, opening and closing wordlessly like she wasn’t sure what to make of Jinx’s words. 

Ekko wasn’t close, but still Jinx could hear the thick, heavy swallow of his throat. “Right. Jinx, Seraphine works at the hospital with me—in pediatrics. Sera, this is—”

Jinx scowled—her voice was a piercing drone as she mocked, “Sera?” 

Ekko’s eyes widened. His cheeks grew uncharacteristically pink. Was he seriously blushing right now? “Sorry. Seraphine—”

“Oh, no—no, I don’t mind!” Seraphine was waving a passive hand of reassurance. “I like Sera—that's what all my close friends call me, anyway.

Close friend. She couldn’t be serious. Ekko didn’t even know her. That’d be like calling Viktor a buddy—calling Heimerdinger an uncle. Besides, he’d made it clear that night he wasn’t interested in her anymore, anyway…right?

Seraphine and Ekko were holding eye contact for longer than Jinx liked, and she was admittedly happy to be interrupting.

“So,” she started, “you gonna give me an introduction too, or is she the only one who warrants one?”

Ekko shot her an unsubtle glare. She was being too much—even for her—and she knew it. But she couldn’t help it. Something in her was stirring again, boiling over and spilling like it had the day of Ekko’s date—before everything with Isha went to shit. 

“Jinx is my…” Ekko trailed off for a little too long, his stammering voice tethering on uncertainty. Eventually, he settled on, “...Roommate.”

Seraphine met Jinx’s eyes. There was a hint of recognition there.

Good.

Ekko must’ve mentioned her. She wasn’t sure why the thought of that made her so relieved—so glad.

Seraphine was smiling at her in a way that wasn’t pinched—wasn’t fake—which, for whatever goddamn reason, made her angrier. She was nice and hot—that was hardly fair.

An impatient, squeaky noise pierced out. Isha was darting between the three of them with those microscopic eyes of hers, trying to make something of the scene before her. She was looking at Seraphine with curious doubt, and Ekko reached out to rub at her shoulder.

“Oh,” he started, “and this is—”

“Isha!” Seraphine answered. Her eyes were warm in a way that pissed Jinx the hell off. “Of course! I’ve heard so much about you, y’know.”

Isha reached over to press closer to Jinx, latching to her cold hand with both of her own. She dug the whole right side of her face into the bony skin of Jinx’s arm. Isha wasn’t typically shy—but this was different…possessive almost.

Ekko rubbed at the back of his neck. “Isha doesn’t talk much.”

“That’s okay,” Seraphine said, “I can talk enough for the both of us.”

Isha didn’t seem keen on it, but still she reluctantly gave Seraphine a tiny wave—a half-hearted smile.

Like a lifeline—some Deus Ex Machina—a monotonous voice shot out, loud and clear. “Order for Ekko!”

“That’s us!” Jinx called. She shook off Isha, and the girl reluctantly let go in favor of her hot chocolate. “Get your stuff, Bunny.”

Seraphine seemed snapped out of whatever daze she’d been lost in. Jinx hadn’t even realized she’d been staring at her—staring at Ekko—staring between them in the way Isha sometimes did. Analysing; dwelling.  

Eventually, she shook her head as if shaking away a fleeting thought. “I—yeah, I should go! My mom is waiting for me at Aritzia, so…” she shot them another smile, waved lowly at Isha. “I’ll see you Monday, Ekko?”

“Yeah!” He spoke. He was clumsily reaching for their three bags of bagels. “Yeah, we’ll see each other then.”

“Cool,” Seraphine said. “Bye, Isha—Jinx—it was so nice meeting you.”

“Yeah,” Jinx hummed, “you too—all berries and cream.”

After that, they ate their bagels in utter silence. 

The food court was cramped and crowded—bustling with noise—and for the first time that day, Jinx was grateful for it. It did a good enough job at drowning out the tension. 

When they first sat down, Isha poked at Ekko’s shoulder and pried. Who was that?

Ekko didn’t look at Jinx. He spread a thick slab of cream cheese against the top of his bagel. “Just someone I work with, Bunny.”

Wasn't there before, Isha signed, when I was. 

Ekko offered a smile, and Jinx slurped at the watered-down dregs of her latte. “That’s ‘cause she’s new.” 

Isha paused in thought, playing with the flaky, buttery skin of her croissant. She was pretty, she suddenly signed— a careless afterthought—then decidedly grew bored of the conversation and went back to eating.

Seriously—Isha, too?

Whatever; she couldn’t blame them. Seraphine was pretty. And kind. And she was a nurse, so she had to be some kind of smart. And—as much as she didn’t care to admit it—she undeniably understood why Ekko would like her. Even if he’d said he wasn’t interested anymore…which Jinx was starting to question. Had he only said that ‘cause of the circumstances that night?

Whatever. It didn’t matter. That’s what she tried to tell herself.

Still, that didn’t make it sting any less. She didn’t like the idea of some third-party hovering over whatever it was they already had going on. Their makeshift family. It felt wrong. Felt intrusive.

Jinx stuffed the last bite of her bagel into her mouth, chewing hard, hard, hard.

After a little while—across the table—Ekko and Isha seemed to have settled back into their usual rhythm, with Ekko helping Isha wipe a smudge of chocolate from her cheek while she giggled quietly.

Jinx should’ve felt relieved. Should’ve been glad the awkwardness Seraphine had brought to the table was gone. But instead, her chest felt tight, her stomach heavier than it should’ve been.

Stupid Philz bagel. Stupid cream cheese.

She shoved her empty cup aside, sitting up. “Alright,” she said, her tone sharper than she meant it to be. “Let’s get moving, I still need a stupid dress—and I don’t care to stay here long enough to run into another one of your shiny coworkers.”

--

Ekko really thought that had to be karma for something.

Of all places in the city, how they’d all wound up at the same one had to be a sign from the universe—one directly sent to lure him into the kind of spiralled thoughts he really didn’t need.

Guilt flooded through him. He hadn’t texted Seraphine after the whole sick-Isha ordeal, and they’d worked opposite shifts all week—that was his first time seeing her since the date.

It wasn’t that it hadn’t crossed his mind at all…he just never quite found the time. Or found the time to want to.

Fuck. He felt like such an ass. And Jinx hadn’t helped with all that attitude he still didn’t understand.

She still looked irritated now, as they scavenged their way through some expensive dress store, with Jinx plucking at random gowns from their racks with some sour, impatient face. Some blaring retail music pierced through the white, bustling store—Loud and overstimulating—as if yearning to make everything worse.

Even Isha must’ve sensed Jinx’s annoyance, too—she was lingering back with Ekko—silent and cautious—and she typically always liked to get a word in when it came to shopping.  

Eventually, Jinx was holding too many dresses to keep count, and she seemingly decided that meant she’d hit her limit.

“I’m going to try these things on,” she muttered, turning toward the changing rooms. “Won’t be long.”

She didn’t seem to want any advice and Ekko didn’t care to pry. Isha, next to him, had hardly heard a word—she’d grown fascinated by the rack of accessories to her left. Thick gold hoop earrings and chunky, diamond bracelets.

Isha tugged at Ekko’s sleeve, pointing. Jinx.

He laughed. “Don’t know if she’ll want ‘em, but we can ask.” He dropped a hand to her shoulder, guiding her to some empty cushioned chairs at the corner of the store where impatient boyfriends already hovered, waiting around for their girlfriends to be done shopping, trying.

Ekko dropped the bags he’d been holding to the floor, stretching out his arms—cracking at his fingers.

Isha watched him, silent. Then, with some kind of meticulous gaze, she started signing. Hospital lady, she said. You like her?

Ekko’s brows raised. He should’ve seen this one coming.

“Uh, sure,” Ekko said. “She’s a friend. Everyone likes their friends.”

Isha hesitated, her lip twitching. Girl, she started. And then, slower, friend?

“No—no,” Ekko pressed. “It’s not like that.”

She looked unconvinced.

Ekko let out a defeated sigh. Why was he being therapized by a seven-year-old?

“Okay—I thought maybe it was like that,” he confessed. “But it’s not.”

Isha squinted. Why?

God, why was Isha always so full of questions?

“I…I don’t know.” He dropped a lazy hand at his cheek, dragging. “Sometimes you just know it won’t work—gut feeling, I guess. You’ll understand one day, when you’re older.”  

Isha didn’t look pleased with his answer—like she expected something else. Some other reason; something more concrete. But—thank God—she didn’t press further.

Instead—as if bored with him—she wandered back over to the rack of accessories, fiddling with the lace of a burly headband and leaving him stranded with all those miserable boyfriends.

Eventually, Jinx came out. She was holding some silk, plum dress in her hands. Ekko could hardly tell how it looked—it was bunched up in Jinx’s fists, already creasing. She’d definitely have to iron it before the actual party next month.

Isha hurdled over, a scowl on her face. She looked robbed of something. Wanna see.

Jinx pinched at her cheek. She looked less annoyed now—or maybe that was just Isha softening her up in that way she always did.

“You’ll see next month. I’m not trying this thing on again—too many strings.”

Ekko sat up, reaching for the bags. Strings, huh? He shot a look at the dress in her hands again, urging for a closer look, but not being able to settle on any details. Jinx was holding in a way that was almost shielding.

He walked over, nudging Jinx with his shoulder. “But I wanna see, too.”

“Hey,” Jinx shrugged, “if I’m not trying it for Bunny, I’m not tryin’ it for you.”

--

Sunday, unlike that bustling Saturday, was exactly how Ekko liked.

Slow. Lazy. Long.

The first week of March was already coming to a close—the world outside already prettier; greener, with less of that looming, lingering fog. Despite the early spring and its timely colors, light rain rapped at the closed windows of their apartment since that morning.

They spent the day doing basic chores. Ekko and Isha spent their time folding laundry while Jinx mopped the floors—she had her knock-off Air Pods in; the ones she liked to brag she scored off fucking Temu—and was bopping her head through the loud leak of music. Ekko just couldn’t believe they actually worked.

Almost too hastily, the early evening came, the sun hardly a lowered thumb in the sky, casting pretty, soft orange across everything inside.

Isha, already knowing what a Sunday evening brought, was trying to drag out the cleaning of her room. She was putting her scattered toys away after dinner with a sluggish pace, stopping halfway through to lounge around and tug back at the iPad and prod at it.

He should’ve never let Jinx make her a Roblox account.

“Isha,” Ekko chided. He was slanted at the doorway, arms crossed. “You can’t avoid your homework forever. You’ll have all night to hang once it’s done, okay?”

It took more convincing, but eventually Isha gave in. She wasn’t any happier when it was over, knowing it meant school was only a few hours away.

Jinx paused her scrubbing of the dishes to try and help Isha pick an outfit—trying to give her a reason for excitement—but Ekko watched as Isha only sulked, letting Jinx pick her clothes out for her.

While Isha was getting ready for bed, Ekko crept up behind Jinx at the sink.

His voice was low, just in case. Isha liked to creep up on them. “There’s something wrong—”

“With school,” Jinx finished. She hardly shot a glance at him, but he watched as her gloved fingers pressed harder at the sponge, dirty suds bleeding out while she cleaned a dish. “I know.”

It was obvious. They’d considered it before, but somehow it only grew worse. Isha seemed more and more upset to go each weekday morning, and as much as they tried to throw in any suggestion of the topic, Isha turned her head. Avoided it. Changed the conversation.

“We should talk to her—like, seriously talk to her,” Ekko mumbled, “tonight. It’s almost been two months. It should be getting better, not worse. I’m really worried, Jinx— ”

She nodded at him, dropping the dish into the sink and slinging off her gloves. “I am too. But…you know how she is with it. Won’t muster up a word. We need to figure out the proper way.”

“Maybe…” he drew a hand to his neck, scratching. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it together. She’ll be too overwhelmed if we just jump her like that.”

Jinx clenched her jaw—he watched the tight skin there stretch, shadowed. “I’ll do it tonight.”

Ekko swallowed. He wasn’t sure how good of an idea that was.

On one hand, Isha had an affinity for Jinx. On the other, Jinx wasn’t exactly…subtle. She was protective by nature, and she wouldn’t hesitate to pry—more, probably, than Isha wanted her to. But maybe that’s what she needed.

Ekko bit his lip. Eventually, he spoke.

“Okay,” he said. “And if that doesn’t work?”

Jinx shrugged. There was a determined look in her eyes. “Then we just keep trying.”

--

Isha’s room was a low, liquid glow beneath the star-lights Jinx had pressed to the ceiling all those months ago.

“Alright,” Jinx started, smoothing out the duvet from where it sat perched against Isha’s chin. She looked all head and no body—both braids tucked beneath. “You snug as a bug?”

Isha nodded, her head lolling on the pillow. Jinx reached over to pinch at her nose, and Isha let out a tired giggle. She almost made to get up and leave but remembered to stay.

Her and Ekko agreed on this.

Jinx swallowed hard. How the hell was she even supposed to start this?

“Isha…” She tried to turn her voice soft and stern all at once—she wanted Isha to know she wasn’t playing around. Didn’t want her lying. “I know you don’t wanna hear it but…you’d tell me if someone was messin’ with you, right? At school.”

Isha shuffled under the blanket, suddenly antsy. Her face twisted from that half-sleep ease to something timid, uncomfortable. She drew her eyes to the ceiling, averting from Jinx’s gaze.

“Hey, look at me,” Jinx urged. “I’m not letting you silent-treatment your way outta this one.”

Isha let out a clipped noise of annoyance. She slipped her hands out from the duvet, moving them close to Jinx’s face, as if forcing her to get the damn hint. It’s fine.

Jinx scowled, her own patience wearing thin. “Kid, it’s like pulling teeth to get you to school in the morning. I know something’s up.”

Isha shrugged, her face tense. Just don’t like school. 

Jinx didn’t buy it—not for a second. “Yeah? That’s all it is?”

Isha nodded quickly, her movements sharp and dismissive. She pulled up the duvet, half-hiding her face beneath it like it would shield her from Jinx’s persistence.

“Bunny, don’t lie to me.” Jinx reached for her hands but Isha stilled beneath her touch. “If someone’s being a jerk—or saying stupid stuff—you gotta tell me. I can’t help if you don’t.”

Isha didn’t answer. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, twisting and untwisting the fabric in silence.

She could’ve screamed. Seriously?

Jinx sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Isha, come on.”

Finally, Isha peeked up at her, her gold eyes hesitant and guarded. She signed slowly, said I’m fine. Goodnight.

Then Isha stared, her small face etched with something unreadable, before eventually curling over to her side—the blanketed hunch of her back facing Jinx.

Jinx lingered for a moment, her hands clenching the edge of the duvet like it might give her an answer. She wanted to push more—wanted to pry until Isha cracked. But Isha had curled away from her, and as much as Jinx wanted to push, the girl needed sleep before class tomorrow. She knew the both of them were stubborn enough to drag out this petty game of back-and-forth through the night.

“Okay,” she murmured finally, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Isha’s head. Isha hardly stirred beneath her. “Goodnight, Bunny.”

--

“Well, I tried.”

She was leaning against the threshold of Ekko’s bedroom, her arms crossed tight at her chest like she could hold herself together if she pressed down hard enough. “But that kid—she’s stubborn as hell.”

Ekko was laying on his bed, scrolling through his phone with his legs twined together. He shot her a little smile when he saw her, the room brightening. “Takes one to know one, I guess”

“I’m serious,” Jinx persisted. “I’m about to be the worlds first twenty-four year old with stress-induced ulcers.”

Ekko let out a laugh, which only made her scowl. This wasn’t funny. He must’ve noticed.

“I’ll try tomorrow,” he promised, solemn, “on the drive to school. Don’t know how she’ll take it though.”

Oh, please. Isha hardly even tried with her—what made him think she’d be any more open with him. “Yeah,” she huffed, “good luck with that. She wouldn’t budge—and I was really, really trying, okay?”

“You know—" he set his phone down on the mattress, sitting up—“you can be a little…pushy.”

Oh, he was one to talk. She hardened her gaze on him, wandering over to the bed and hovering over him like some threatening apparition.

“What, so it’s a crime to care, now?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” His eyes were soft despite her hardness, and she couldn’t help but melt under the gaze. “I care, too, but we can’t force the words out of her. We just need to figure out a better way…”

“Whatever,” Jinx groaned, “but if she doesn’t spill soon, we’re going to that damn school ourselves.”

Ekko nodded, his face stern. “Sounds like a plan.”

Jinx let out a sigh. She moved to leave, her arms still tight at her chest. Ekko sat up straighter—there was something in his face while he watched her try to slip away; shock, near-urgency.

“You’re not staying?” Confusion webbed in his tone. It was hardly a subtle invitation, but it wasn’t a foreign one.

Jinx hesitated; her fingers twitched at her sides. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since the whole date ordeal—unless she counted the three of them crammed together with Isha last weekend, hovering over her, half-asleep—worrying—like the sickness would swallow her whole.

It was probably a bad idea. But she wasn’t one to stray from those.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” The smallest of smiles toyed at her mouth. “But... since you asked so nicely.”

Ekko’s lips quirked. He moved over, making room for her on the bed. She climbed in with her usual casualness—the mattress dipping beneath her knees—but the way she slumped into him gave her away. She missed this. It was almost pathetic how she’d come to need it.

He tugged her close, both arms twined around her. She could feel him breathe her in. She pressed her face into the skin of his collarbone and sighed out at the familiar feel of him.

This was as close as they could be—legs tangled, arms bending—but still, sometimes, it didn’t quite feel close enough.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The dim glow of Ekko’s pink, warm Himalayan salt lamp cast a pretty richness across the room, the quiet hum of the city outside did a decent enough job at filling the silence.

Ekko’s room was cozy—warm and airy—a nest of books sat cornered in a neat pile by his desk. His duvet was thick and green and smelled of fresh linen and the detergent they’d used for years. She liked it here a whole lot more than her own.

“I just don’t get it,” Jinx said finally, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “She’s been with us long enough to know we’re not gonna judge her, right? So why won’t she just... say it?”

“I don’t know.” Ekko frowned against her—she could feel the gentle curl of his mouth against her. “Maybe she doesn’t know how to say it. Or maybe she’s scared it’ll change things if she does.”

Jinx let out an irritated sigh. “But it wouldn’t. I mean, not for me—for you. Not for us. She knows we’d deal with it.”

“Yeah.” He’d started threading his hands through her unbraided hair, fingers bent in all that blue. “But think about how long it took us to trust people back then. I knew Benzo would do right by me, but it was still…embarrassing, sometimes. To tell the truth.”

Jinx flinched in his arms. She remembered well enough. She’d trusted Vander quickly, but that was mostly because Vi had trusted him first, and she trusted Vi more than anyone. But once Vi left—once Vander died—trust became an unruly thing. One she’d grown foreign to.

Jinx huffed into Ekko. He must’ve sensed her frustration and pressed a lingering kiss to her hair. She hated how much that worked—how easily he undid her, like tugging at the silky string of a bow and pulling it loose.

“The truth’ll come out,” he whispered. His lips tickled the crown of her head, his breath hot. “One way or another. It always does.”

--

Well, the truth didn’t quite come out.

At least, not that morning.

On his way to work, Ekko had dropped a very tired Isha off at school, and the second he opened his mouth to question her, he hardly had the chance to finish his sentence. Isha held up a hand, her head half-turned towards the window. From the back seat, she signed each word with slow, harsh persistence. Nothing. Is. Wrong. 

Ekko had swallowed hard. His hands tightened at the wheel. “Isha,” he said, voice firm, “we won’t be mad at you, if that’s what you’re scared of. We just—”

Stop.

Ekko let out a sharp breath, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror. Her small face was half-hidden by the tattered bill of her hat, her eyes stubbornly fixed on the passing buildings outside. She looked closed off, walled in, and it made his chest ache.

“Alright,” he said softly, his tone careful now. “But you know you can tell me anything, yeah? Whenever you’re ready.”

Isha didn’t reply. She climbed out of the car when they reached the school, slamming the door harder than she usually did. Ekko watched her disappear into the crowd of kids and teachers—alone, never gravitating to anyone—the knot in his stomach tightening.

His drive to work felt longer than it should’ve—his morning slow, too. By afternoon, much hadn’t changed.

The midday lull at the hospital was a rare reprieve, and Ekko was using it to organize supplies in one of the pediatric storage rooms. His scrubs were slightly rumpled, his name badge hanging loosely from his pocket. He was so focused on refilling gauze packs—his mind dwelling still on Isha’s whole school thing—that he didn’t notice Seraphine until she leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Hey, stranger.”

Ekko glanced up, startled, but his expression quickly softened when he recognized her. “Hey,” he greeted, shutting the cabinet door. “Didn’t hear you sneak in.”

“Guess you were too busy being the most efficient nurse on the floor,” she teased, her pastel ponytail swaying as she stepped inside. She was holding a clipboard in one hand and a half-empty coffee cup in the other.

He laughed—a soft kind—and knew he wanted to speak. But what was there to say? Saturday’s interaction—their cut-short date, too—hung thick and heavy between them, making it hard for him to understand where they even stood.

Ugh. He should’ve listened to the internet when it said not to date coworkers.

He clenched his jaw, finally, urging himself to say something—but before he had a chance, Seraphine spoke first.

“Look, Ekko…” Her voice was still sweet in the way it always was, but tinged, this time, with something more serious. “I—I really like you. You’re funny, and sweet, and smart and stupidly hot…”

He raised a brow, waiting.

Eventually, Sera heaved a tiny sigh. “But...I just—I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

Ekko gaped. “Oh.”

He wasn’t sure why, but that hadn’t been what he’d expected. He didn’t quite think she’d have made it so easy on him—that she’d let him down, too. Shit. Maybe he needed to lower that ego a little.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that changed. She’d been more than fine with letting him leave the date for Isha’s sake. So it must’ve been...

“Is it ‘cause of Saturday?” He asked. “I’m sorry—I would’ve stuck around to say more but—”

“No, it’s not you,” she laughed. “I mean. Sort of. Kind of. I just guess I didn’t want to believe the whole roommate thing really was like that.”

Ekko frowned. Like what? 

She knew about Jinx—he’d told her. What was there to be shocked about? 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” She shrugged; the movement tedious. “Your roommate—Jinx—she’s totally into you.”

Ekko blinked, his brain stalling for a moment. “What?” he said finally, his voice coming out louder than intended. “No. That’s not—no.”

Seraphine gave him a knowing look, tilting her head like she was waiting for him to catch up. “Ekko, seriously. You can’t tell me there’s nothing there.”

“There isn’t,” he insisted, his tone firm. “We’re just...close. Best friends. That’s it.”

Seraphine arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Close how? Because the way she looked at me—at you—that didn’t feel so roommate-kind-of close.”

“She’s just protective,” Ekko said quickly, waving a hand as if to brush the idea away. He was starting to get annoyed. What did Seraphine know from a three-minute interaction, anyway? “That’s how she is. She’s always been like that.”

Seraphine didn’t look convinced. She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Ekko, I’m not trying to start anything. I think she’s great, honestly. But you need to be honest with yourself about what’s going on there.”

“There’s nothing going on,” he said, his jaw tightening. “Jinx and I have been friends forever. That’s all it is. That’s all it’s ever been.”

Seraphine gave him a small, sad smile, as if she pitied him. 

“If you say so,” she said lightly, though the weight of her words lingered. “Anyway, I should get back to my rounds. I’ll see you later, Ekko.”

She left with a small, polite wave, her pink ponytail swaying as she disappeared down the hall. Ekko stood there for a moment.

Was she crazy?

He shook his head, grabbing a chart and flipping through it a little too hard. 

Whatever. Seraphine was wrong. She didn’t know Jinx like he did. That’s just how she was—how they were. He shouldn’t have expected her to understand; no one ever really did—no one ever—

His phone buzzed to life in his front pocket. A phone call was coming in.

Ekko fished the phone out from his pants, his heart seizing at the contact. Isha’s school. Fuck, this must’ve been how Jinx felt last week.

His fingers stumbled with the screen. He shoved his cheek down against the cool, smudged screen glass. “Hello—yes?”

“Mr. Turner?”

“Yeah—yeah, that’s me.” He was breathing hard, his clipboard abandoned on the floor. “What’s going on? Isha—is she okay—is she sick again?”

The voice on the other end was calm, measured in a way that only made Ekko more anxious. “This is Principal Amara from the school. I’m calling to inform you there was an incident during recess today.”

“Incident?” Ekko’s stomach twisted. “What kind of incident?”

There was a pause, and then, very sternly; “Isha got into a physical altercation with another student. She...punched him.”

Ekko froze, his mind scrambling to process the words. “She what?”

“The other student made…a comment—one that upset her,” Amara explained carefully. “We’d like you to come in to discuss the matter. Isha is fine, but she’s understandably upset.”

Ekko ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes briefly.

Fuck. Fuck. They’d known, too. Known something was wrong. Fuck—why hadn’t they moved sooner?

“Alright,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He ended the call, the tension in his chest pulling tighter with every second. Isha—his sweet, tiny Isha—punching some kid? It didn’t make sense—or maybe it did, and that scared him more.

He remembered suddenly,  Vi’s words from that weekend, not too long ago: “Y’know,” Vi said, leaning close, “if anyone ever bothers you, all you gotta do is—” she held up a callused, closed fist, shaking it hard. “Bam! Show them you’re stronger than they are.”

Fuck. Vi—Oh, she was going to hear it from him.

Pulling himself together, he grabbed his phone again, immediately calling Jinx. She picked up after two rings, her voice casual. She was chewing something, lips smacking—he figured it was her lunch break.

“Whazzup?”

Ekko didn’t bother with the pleasantries. “Isha punched a kid at school.”

There was a beat of silence before Jinx’s voice shot up, sharp and panicked. “She—no—what?”

“I just got the call,” Ekko said, already moving toward the hospital exit. “We need to go to the school. They want to talk to us.”

“Is she okay?” Jinx asked quickly, her voice tight with worry. He could hear rustling on the other side of the line.

“They said she’s fine—but she’s upset, obviously.”

“Fuck,” Jinx muttered. Then a groan. “Fuck—Ekko, we knew it. We fuckin’ knew it. God knows what the hell provoked her—”

Her voice broke, and so did his breath. “I know, Jinx. I know.”

On the other line, Jinx spoke again, her voice hard. “Okay, I’ll meet you there—I’m coming.”

He didn’t even want to think about what that dumb kid had told her—what made her upset enough to actually take Vi’s advice to heart.

God—maybe he needed to punch something, too.

--

Ekko picked Jinx up at work, despite her protests not to. She wanted to take the bus, but he insisted—it would’ve been best for them to show up together. A unit.

Jinx spent the whole ride mumbling and muttering about how they should’ve picked some other school—should’ve pried sooner—should’ve forced her to talk, somehow, though even she knew that was impossible.

Ekko let her ramble—he was having his own thoughts too, anyway. Though he tried his best to keep them to himself. He didn’t need to rile Jinx up anymore—didn’t need her storming in and punching the principal—the kid’s parents—giving everyone a reason to point fingers; look where Isha got it from.

They got there a little after one thirty. Ekko parked the car a little crooked—not that either of them cared—they were too worried about just getting inside.

The secretary buzzed them in and Ekko was immediately greeted with the sight of Amara hovering by a row of chairs.

There were two kids. Some blonde boy—he had a mean, crescent bruise on his left cheek—one that was already growing purple.

A few seats away, Isha sat slouched, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her face was flushed with anger, her jaw set stubbornly. Her right fist was wrapped in a makeshift bandage, though the dried streaks of blood at her knuckles were still visible.

“Isha,” Jinx said sharply, her voice a mix of concern and frustration. “What the hell happened?”

Isha’s eyes flicked up to them briefly, her amber eyes blazing with recognition, before darting away again—trailing her gaze to the floor. She didn’t say anything, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her cheeks grew flushed. She looked embarrassed.

Ekko crouched down in front of her, his gaze soft but firm. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She winced a little when she pinched her fingers, signing, no.

“Mr. Turner.” Amara was facing them now, her hands held at her waist. Next to her, that boy was staring, his left eye almost swollen. He was giving them a sour look, though there was apprehension there, too. Anxiety. “Miss Lane. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” Ekko stood, while Jinx moved to sit next to Isha, looking over her knuckles. The girl recoiled, almost, at the closeness—she obviously hated this—that it had to come to this.

“Isha,” Amara started—her voice soft, stern. “Why don’t you tell your parents what happened?”

Parents. It’d been months, but the term was still odd. Nice, though. Made him feel warm—adult—responsible…and now, a little like a failure. Here Isha sat, with her fists cut up and her face flushed, embarrassed to tell them the truth.

Well—at least it’d come out.

Isha, eventually, let out a groan. She hesitated before finally looking up at Ekko.

Said signing was weird. ­She sank down a little, looking away again. Called me broken.

Ekko’s heart broke. He shot a glare at the kid—the kid who was looking away, unable to deal, all of a sudden.

Next to Isha, Jinx froze, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “What?”

Ekko’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone calm, steady. He had to be the one to ground. He had to—even despite the anger that boiled up inside. If he didn’t, Jinx would blow up and he probably would, too. “And what did you do?”

Isha hesitated, her gaze darting toward the boy sitting a few seats away. His sour expression hadn’t shifted, but there was an edge of guilt in his eyes now. She looked back at Ekko, her movements more abrupt this time.

I told him to stop. He didn’t. So I hit him. Then she shrugged, almost passively. Like Vi said.

Ekko groaned. Of course. He opened his mouth to retort but then—completely out of nowhere—Jinx burst out laughing. It was a snort, really; low and immediately muffled by the palm of her hand.

Amara shot her a funny look, her face pinched. Oh God.

“Jinx—”

“What? She told him to stop, he didn’t—” she lowered her voice to a hushed mumble, hardly audible. “Kid got what was comin’ for him.”

Ekko scowled, though he could hardly argue. The kid kinda deserved it, sure. But still, Isha couldn’t go punching her way through life. They couldn’t act proud…well, at least, not publicly. Not to the principal.

“Where are—uh—” he looked at the blonde kid, brow raised.

“Jeremy,” Amara finished.

“Jeremy,” Ekko repeated. “Where are Jeremy’s parents?”

“They’ll be at work until later,” she said, “but I will absolutely give them your contact information, Mr Turner. It’s best to communicate through these kinds of…ordeals.”

“Aw Bunny, see—” Jinx was tucking a piece of loosened hair behind Isha’s ear. Her voice was a whisper again, so Amara and the boy—Jeremy—would have no way of catching it, but Ekko was close enough to. “Maybe you don’t talk, but his parents don’t love him, so—”

​​Ekko huffed—his voice a low murmur. “Jinx!”

“Mr. Turner—Miss Lane—we just wanted to let you know that this matter will be taken seriously. Jeremy’s words will not go unpunished,” she said, “but Isha’s actions must be addressed, too.” She narrowed her eyes onto Jinx. “We hope you deal with this accordingly at home.”

“It will,” Jinx said, “as long as this—boy here—has parents who recognize this can’t happen again. I doubt this was the first time, was it?”

Isha—with gentle reluctance—shook her head. No.

Jinx hummed—her tone bitter. She drilled her eyes into Jeremy, and the boy recoiled, trying to hide behind Amara like Jinx would pounce. “That’s what I thought.”

“I see.” Amara cleared her throat, her professional tone cutting through the tension—she drew her eyes to Jeremy, gaze hard. “Regardless, violence is not an acceptable solution. Isha will need to reflect on her actions, and we trust you’ll ensure that happens.”

Ekko nodded quickly. He just wanted to get out of here, at this point. He might explode, too. His hand pressed on Isha’s shoulder. “We will. Thanks for letting us know.”

Jinx stood, her sharp gaze lingering on Jeremy one. She pointed a finger at him, and Ekko flinched. “You better watch how you speak to my kid—I don’t think your mama’ll be too happy to hear from me.” 

Ekko couldn’t help it. He crossed his arms at his chest. “Or your dad—from me—I have a phone, too!”

Jeremy shot them a weird look, but there was a new-found caution on his face that hadn’t been there earlier.

Jinx looked back at him—she gave him a funny look, too, but there was a playful coil to her smile that he knew all too well. 

Eventually, Jinx reached for Isha, urging her up. “C’mon, Bunny. Let’s go.”

Isha hesitated for a moment, her face tense, but she stood and followed them out without a word. Ekko kept a steady hand on her back as they walked through the hallway, Jinx trailing just behind, her face tight with barely restrained anger.

As they reached the exit, Jinx muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Ekko to hear, “Good thing his parents weren’t here. I might’ve punched them, too.”

“Jinx,” Ekko groaned, shaking his head as he pushed open the door.

“What?” she said, shrugging as they stepped outside. “I’m just saying.”

--

Sunlight pierced through the dirty glass of the Subaru as Ekko drove. Jinx sat at the front, arms at her chest. She watched Isha closely from the rear-view mirror, her face pointed toward the window. She still seemed embarrassed, and Jinx wanted to say something, but she didn’t want to make it worse.

They’d been driving in silence for the past five minutes, and someone had to speak soon.

Eventually, Ekko broke the silence. “We need to call Vi.”

Jinx whipped her head around, her eyes narrowing. That wasn’t what she’d expected. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Ekko said firmly, “she’s the one who told Isha to hit someone in the first place. She needs to know what her advice caused.”

“Oh, please, that’ll just make her proud.” Jinx rolled her eyes. “Besides, you heard me—I’m not punishing Isha for that. He started it.”

“I know, Jinx—he’s a stupid kid—but Vi has to know.” Ekko’s voice was pinched. “This isn’t just about today. We can’t let Isha go around thinking hitting people is the solution every time someone says something mean.”

“And what do you want her to do, huh?” Jinx shot back. “Just take it? Let some jerk make her feel like crap and do nothing about it?”

“No, obviously not but—I mean—I don’t know! I just want her to come to us!” Ekko snapped, his eyes flashing in the rearview mirror. “That’s what we’re here for. To help her, not to let her handle it on her own.”

From the backseat, Isha let out a sharp, frustrated noise. Jinx twirled back, eyes widening. Stop, she was signing. You don’t get it. Both of you.

Jinx and Ekko were stunned into silence.

“Isha—” Ekko started, his voice softening. “What—"

No, Isha signed, her movements even more frantic. Her face was flushed, and her hands trembled slightly. You don’t get it! You don’t know what it’s like.

Jinx sucked in a breath.

At the sound of Isha’s heaving breaths, Ekko slowed the car. He pulled over to the side of the road—the corner of some suburban street—and parked, turning in his seat to meet Isha’s gaze.

“Isha, talk to us. We’re listening.”

The car was quiet for a moment, save for the faint hum of passing traffic. Isha’s shoulders slumped, and she shook her head, her hands moving slower now. You have each other. Had each other. I don’t have anyone.

Jinx’s heart twisted at the sight of Isha’s trembling lip. This was almost worse than when she was sick—made her feel more useless—there was no cure for this. No Tylenol. No wet, wrung towels to fevered foreheads.

This was different. This was the heart.

“That’s not true,” Jinx said—her voice was a gentle lull. “You have us.”

Isha’s gaze shot up, her eyes glistening with frustration. Not the same.

Ekko turned fully in his seat. Jinx watched the softening of his features—the dip of his mouth, the furrow of his brows.

“You’re right, it’s not the same,” he admitted softly. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not here for you, Bunny. It doesn’t mean you’re alone.”

Isha’s lip quivered, and her hands hesitated before signing again, slower this time. You don’t know what it feels like.

Ekko exhaled, his voice steady but thick. “Maybe not exactly this. But we know what it’s like to feel out of place—to feel like no one gets you.”

He glanced at Jinx, and she nodded. She looked at Isha and offered her a vulnerable smile. “Still feels that way, sometimes,” she murmured, “believe me.”

Isha didn’t look convinced, but she was looking at Jinx with more reasoning now. Like she felt seen. Unshed tears clung to the thick brown of her lashes. Fuck. Her poor kid.

Jinx reached over, seatbelt unbuckled, and climbed into the backseat.

“Jinx—what—”

“Shut it.” She was all narrow elbows and knees as she climbed, almost kicking at Ekko’s face in the process. Eventually, she sat flat on her ass. Isha was staring at her with a weird face—like she hadn’t needed Jinx to do all that. But whatever—she needed a hug.

Jinx reached over to wipe at her face, shucking the tears off from her lashes and then pulling her close. Isha hesitated—just for a little—before hugging back, nuzzling her head into Jinx’s jacket when—

A door clapped shut. Then—soon after—the dingy door behind Isha creaked opened. Ekko crouched, sticking his head in.

“Scoot, Bunny.”

Jinx raised her brows at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m using the door,” Ekko said, shooting Jinx a lighthearted glare, “like a normal person.”

Isha giggled, shoving over. Ekko settled in, and Jinx laughed at the way he pulled the both of them into some stupid, massive hug. A ridiculously overdramatic kind.

He was ridiculously good at this whole thing—Isha’s face had split into some whole, pretty smile.

“Things’ll change, Isha,” Ekko promised. He had a hand at Jinx’s shoulder, stroking at the skin there. His voice was so soft, and she could’ve melted with him. “Everyone has someone. A person. It’s just about…finding them.” He looked at Jinx, his mouth tugged up in a smile “Like how we found each other—” then back at Isha, his face even gentler. “How we found you.”

Isha’s head lolled against Jinx’s arm. People are stupid.

“Yeah, well,” Jinx said. “There’ll always be stupid people.” Above Isha’s head, she looked at Ekko, winking. “We just gotta…find the less stupid ones.”

Chapter Text

Early spring had bled through, blistered still with the cruel remnants of winter.

April sunlight pierced past morning beds of city fog. What was once a patch of yellow-brown field had bloomed into a lavish green. Floral things—wildflowers and cherry blossoms—sliced through the dreary cracks of the city, turning everything to vivid color.

Inevitably, with prettier weather came prettier days. Longer days. Sunnier days. Even the rain, now, didn’t linger as long—felt less bleak and more necessary—to gloss at thinned flower petals with beady drops of water for the sake of a tenacious, healthy growth. Healthy change.

And that change was a pungent thing. Thick, palpable, almost. Ekko could feel it slipping through his fingers like threads of rushing ocean, coursing through, unbending.

Cait and Vi’s engagement was barrelling toward them with no remorse. They were three days from the party, and Jinx’s demeanor alone was what gave it all away. She had grown snappier, less patient. She slept too late and woke up later; stumbling out the door ten minutes before her shift started.

Ekko was worried this meant something else was coming, too—some inevitable episode. But he knew Jinx well enough not to outright ask. So instead, he’d grown more watchful; more attentive. He found his eyes trailing to the crease of Jinx’s brow—the curl of her lip. Waiting for some kind of spillage—some tell-tale sign.

Staring, always. Maybe too long, sometimes.

She’d started catching on and he hadn’t meant to be so obvious, but he couldn’t help it. He was more worried than he liked to admit. The gala would be hard for her, he knew that well enough.

Cait was one problem. Her parents, of course, were another. One that made Cait look so incredibly, impossibly common. Alike.

Ekko’d met them only once, a few years ago, at Vi and Cait’s house for Vi’s birthday party. They’d brought with them a bottle of champagne the cost of Ekko’s biweekly paycheck. And that wasn’t even the gift.

While they weren’t bad people, they were on a planet so alien NASA had yet to spot it.

Cait’s mother came from old money—heir to some English jewelry empire that predated decades. Her father was a doctor—a neurosurgeon—and at the very top of his league. When they spoke business (which really, was mostly all they spoke), it hardly sounded like English. Instead, it was more like some enunciated gibberish of terms and numbers Ekko couldn’t care hard enough to decipher. And he was smart.

The night of Vi’s birthday, Jinx and Ekko had stumbled home drunk off that expensive champagne, bearing fake-English accents. They’d just graduated, and had only moved in together a month prior. They’d walked back, which was probably unwise, but they were too young and too drunk to care.

Jinx had half-leaned on him the whole way home, arms linked. She smelled sweet and warm—even amidst the pool of late-night fog—like sugar berry cake and woodburning smoke.

“Yes,” Jinx mocked. Her English accent was stupidly good. “And then, one bajillion dollars and three oil spills later, we…we met the queen.”

He wished she was that easygoing with it now. But back then, she’d thought Cait was just a phase. One of Vi’s many flings. He knew she’d never expected it to last—never expected them to work. They were so different, from two different worlds.

But it had, and Jinx was coming to terms with it more and more every day. Still, that didn’t mean she had to like the parties.

Ekko—though he wouldn’t admit it to Jinx—couldn’t help but look forward to the event. Just a tiny little bit. A selfish sentiment, maybe, but one he was curious of. The Kirammans lived on an estate in Napa Valley—some white and orange mansion on a vineyard.

They had butlers, and maids, the whole deal—and that was just for the ordinary day. God only knew what they’d pull for their precious daughter’s engagement.

“I suggested they keep it humble,” Vi had said, “but I doubt they’ll actually listen to me.” He’d called her to inform her of Isha’s whole punching ordeal. To which—as Jinx predicted—Vi was only happy with. Insistent, even, on telling Isha herself how proud she was.

Isha had flushed, and Jinx had laughed before Vi brought up the inevitable engagement party, to which her mood turned suddenly sour. And sour it stayed.

They’d called Jeremy’s parents that night, too, and boy did they hear it. Jinx was already in a pissy mood, and dealing with the pair of tone-deaf parents who were raising Isha’s bully didn’t extend her patience.

“What kinda seven-year-old calls another kid broken?” She’d spat. Ekko had told Isha to go to her room, but he was sure the girl was listening with an ear at the door of her bedroom, anyway. “Learning that crap from you two bozos, isn’t he?”

Jeremy’s parents had ultimately been apologetic, but Jinx had pressed. Not that Ekko quite minded. He’d let her.

As a result—while Jinx grew more antsy with the impending party—Isha had grown less reluctant with school.

She still wasn’t fond of going—that was an impossible mission, at this point—but she didn’t fight them on it anymore. Still, she hadn’t come around to meeting any friends. At least, none she was telling them about. And they were asking—too much, maybe. Ekko’d had to stop at one point, realizing it might’ve been making the whole thing worse—she didn’t need the constant reminder.

Now, instead of whining over school, she’d taken a liking to whining over something else: that damn party. Just like Jinx. Because of Jinx.

Ekko could’ve ripped his hair out.

Jinx was a pacing mess most of the time, and Isha had become her shadow. In the kitchen, in the living room, in the bathroom, now, too, as Jinx dug her nails into the outgrown roots of her hair and stared at her own reflection.

Ekko was walking past with a laundry basket when he caught the two of them together. The scowl on Jinx’s face seemed permanent. Isha tried to replicate it, watching Jinx while balanced on the ledge of the tub—only, hers looked forced and half-hearted, disingenuous.

There was a massive bowl of mixed dye sitting in the middle of the porcelain sink, an old brush shoved in the goop, and Jinx was wearing an old, tattered shirt she only wore when she was redoing her hair.

Ekko raised a brow at the sight. “Am I missing all the fun?”

Jinx flinched. She must’ve missed him—too lost in her head. A huff fell from her tight, purple mouth. “Call this fun?”

Ekko shrugged. He heaved the basket on his hip, smiling. “You know I love a paint job.”

“Sure,” Jinx mumbled. The tension in her shoulders had melted at his presence and Ekko didn’t question why. “Not when you’ve got all this hair.”

“It’s just the roots,” Ekko tutted. “Don’t be a big baby about it.”

Isha laughed at that—Jinx ignoring the both of them—and Ekko relished in the sound. For a while, they held each other’s smile ‘til some kind of hurried realization dawned.  

Isha’s giggles stumbled to a sudden halt. She pursed her lips, slouching. Right. She was supposed to be mad—for Jinx’s sake.

God, she wasn’t letting up with that. At least their girl was loyal.

“I should’ve gone to a fuckin’ hairdresser,” Jinx was mumbling. She’d started patting the thin, plastic brush against her roots, the goo a deep, black blue. Her efforts were forced and jerky, and Ekko frowned from the threshold.

“Want me to—"

“No,” Jinx groaned. She held up the hand that wasn’t painting at her scalp. “Since I’m such a big baby.”

“Jinx, don’t be—”

He hadn’t gotten the chance to finish. Isha had sprung over, suddenly, poking at Jinx’s hip to draw her attention. When Jinx looked down at her, the pinched look on her face softened.

Her tone was warm—playful when she asked, “can I help you, Bunny?”

Isha nodded. She pointed at her own hair—it was mid-evening, and her two braids had half come undone from the day’s end. Blue. Want some.

Jinx’s mouth parted. She looked down at Isha—then up at Ekko, eyes widened—then down again. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, she went back to dyeing her roots. Her reflection was unmoving.

“No chance.”

Isha scowled. This one was real.

She tugged at the end of Jinx’s shirt, pulling. She was looking at Ekko, too—her eyes were pathetic amber, coins of pleading. Please.

Ekko laughed; he dropped the laundry basket. He’d loitered for too long. “Don’t drag me into this, Isha.”

But Isha didn’t relent. She watched with a hard, curious gaze as Jinx’s wrist flicked at the brush, coating her roots in all that strong-smelling paste. Ekko could’ve burst out laughing, if he didn’t think Jinx would smack him for it.

Please.

“No—”

Please, please.

“Isha—”

Jinx.

“Y’know what—” Jinx shut her eyes, seeking an end. She slammed her brush down into its bowl, fishing for more dye. “Finish your homework before dinner without us beggin’ you for once, and I’ll let you have one blue streak, ‘kay?”

Ekko gaped. He figured that she thought Isha would never. But he knew better. Jinx underestimated Isha—how badly Isha wanted to be just like her.

Isha paused. Promise?

Jinx groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, yeah—sure, I promise.”

Ekko watched the exchange unfold like some willing witness at a boxing match. Isha’s face was alight with determination now, her eyes bright as she scampered away toward the homework she’d abandoned at the dinner table.

“Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

“She won’t last,” Jinx responded flippantly, shrugging. “She hates homework.”

“Sure,” Ekko mumbled, “but she loves you more.”

The brush in Jinx’s hand came to a jerky halt. Her eyes narrowed in the mirrored reflection. She shot Ekko a pitiful look.

“Don’t try with me,” he started before she could get a word in. “I know you doubt yourself, but don’t be stupid with it.”

She made to argue, but Ekko wouldn’t let her. Instead, he kicked at the flimsy plastic of the laundry basket, shucking it under the sink and prying the brush from Jinx’s hand. She groaned, annoyance boiling over. There were bags under her eyes that hadn’t been there last week, and Ekko gulped hard.

“Ekko, I can do it myse—”

“Shut up,” he pressed. He lightly tugged at her hair, urging her to let him be. His breath hitched, all at once, when she gasped beneath the pooling light. The blue of her tattoos peaked out the rolled-up sleeves of her shirt, and he bit his lip at the curl of them—that faded, winding pattern.

He came close. The brush in his hand moved with tedious precision. Slow strokes at her roots. There wasn’t much left to be done, but maybe the distraction of him would offer some semblance of comfort.

“You know I like to help. That’s my whole thing, right?”

Jinx slackened against him—the movement innate. He drew closer, too, like she’d offered an unspoken invitation.

“Whatever…only ‘cause you’re so stubborn.”

The feel of her was whole. Magnetic. He let out a breath so heavy—like he’d been holding it back until he had her pressed to him. Like he didn’t know peace unless she was there, near, touching him.

He should have never expected Seraphine to understand.

Not that he was dwelling on that…again.

But, admittedly, he found himself thinking of Seraphine’s words more than he’d wanted.

The thoughts would creep up on him—fingers crawling up the base of his scalp and clawing, clawing in. They came too often, now; when Jinx was holding him while she slept. While he stayed awake, relishing in the cold of her. The thoughtless kisses she dropped to his cheek—his jaw—his neck, sometimes, when she was too sleepy to reach elsewhere.

Maybe it was…odd. Different. But they were different. Had grown up under circumstances most wouldn’t understand. And really, they only had each other, now. There were no parents—no grandparents—no cousins. Not many friends, either. The occasional drink with Claggor was as far as it went. He’d left his friends behind after college; all of them flocking to different cities, different states.

But mostly it was just…each other. Vi. And now Isha. And he supposed Cait, too, even if Jinx wouldn’t admit it.

They were unique. They behaved uniquely. And that was okay.

That was what he told himself—what he had to tell himself—as Jinx pressed closer to him, twining her arms at his waist while he painted blue dye to the damp hair at the front of her scalp.

She let out a breath—a puff at the base of his neck—and he hauled it in. Tasted it.

No one would understand. Only them.

--

Isha won the bet.

It hadn’t taken long, either—Jinx hardly had the time to step out of the shower.

She’d shaved her legs—rubbed herself raw beneath that scalding heat, scowl marked to her face like a permanent wound.

Every time she thought of Saturday, some bleak cloud of upset engulfed her—swallowed her whole—turned her to nothing but angry, bitter pieces of herself.

She tried to disregard the party in the way she disregarded Cait—by pretending the whole of it didn’t exist. But it was hard these days to think of anything else. Constant it was, the reminder. While she brushed her teeth, while she showered, while she worked.

Even now, while she braided.

She was halfway through a damp, limp braid when Isha wandered into to the bathroom, face set and narrow. She smacked her workbook down into the hollow sink—the flimsy thing already open. The thin paper of the page grew wet from leaking beads of water that clung to the corners.

Jinx blinked blankly down at the scribbled numbers. “What’s this?”

Isha gave her a pointed look—a knowing look—her signing firm. Homework.

Oh. Right.

Jinx raised a brow. That was quicker than it’d ever been. Isha liked to take her time, usually. Liked to wait ‘til Jinx and Ekko did the work for her. She wasn’t stupid—she knew the answers, knew how to work ‘em—she just didn’t care to waste her time on writing them down.

“Did you just make these numbers up?”

Isha scowled—she looked impossibly offended, and Jinx held out a defensive hand. Bad joke, she guessed.

“Okay,” Jinx assured, “okay. A deal’s a deal, and I’m a woman of my word, so...” she motioned an inviting hand.

The scowl she bore was lost so fast Jinx almost thought she’d hallucinated it. Isha was beaming. Jinx couldn’t help the smile that slipped to her mouth—even now, amidst all the haze of her mind.

She pulled Isha closer, facing their square, heightened mirror, running a hand against her scalp. Her hair was already short, and if she picked a cornered enough piece, a dyed blue strand could hide somewhat beneath all that thick, layered brown.

Ugh. This probably wasn’t a good idea. But Isha was prying, pleading. And she’d really won, fair and square.

Besides, maybe it’d give Cait a pretty little frown on her perfect day. That alone was cause for a smile.

“Alright,” Jinx mumbled. She dragged out a short stool that lingered in a shadowed corner of their bathroom—the one they kept around for Isha to reach the sink—and hoisted Isha up from her elbows, drawing her to stand on the sturdy, metal seat. “Stay still, ‘kay? Or else it’ll get patchy, and you’ll look real silly.”

Isha nodded through a heap of giggles—she was buzzing in place. There wasn’t much dye left in the, bowl balanced precariously on the corner of their tiny sink, but it’d be enough for a little, dark blue patch.

“This’ll barely show,” Jinx muttered, combing her fingers through Isha’s hair. “So don’t get any ideas about pulling this every time it grows out. I’m not running a salon.”

Isha rolled her eyes, waving an impatient hand, wanting Jinx to get on with it.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it.”

She carefully brushed the dye onto a thin tress of Isha’s hair—a side section, where that blue piece would pierce through. Jinx looked up in the mirror’s foggy reflection, expecting Isha’s giddy, all-encompassing grin. But instead, her coy smile had melted. She caught the girl watching her in the mirror.

Those curious, observant eyes drilled into her.

Why are you so mad? she signed. About the party.

Jinx clenched her jaw. She should’ve seen this one coming. Isha always knew. Not that she’d been making it a secret. She’d complained since the very day Vi informed them there’d been a party at all. But the past week had been particularly worse.

“I’m not—” She cut herself off. That was a lie. A lie Isha knew. She’d been sulking enough to prove it—Isha sulking on her behalf, too; always hovering in defense, some tiny, mirrored silhouette.

Jinx swallowed hard.

“It’s…complicated.” Jinx glossed the brush down over Isha’s strand of hair one last time. “Grown up stuff.”

She plopped the brush down into its empty bowl, heaving Isha down onto the floor.

Isha didn’t seem to care at all for her new piece of pretty blue hair—though it was too dark and wet with dye to really show. Instead, she stared up at Jinx with those wide, expectant eyes.

Jinx sighed. She could never get out of it with this one.

“Remember that day in the car with me and Ekko—how we said that some people stay stupid.” Isha nodded, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “Well, these people—at the party—they can be…stupid, sometimes.”

How?

Jinx rubbed the back of her neck, hesitating. How could she explain this to her seven-year-old without sounding like a total jerk? She didn’t want Isha to hate the party either. Maybe she’d have fun. Maybe she’d like it. Maybe she’d…fit in.

But Isha was staring at her, patient—insistent—her little hands now hovering as if ready to sign more questions if Jinx didn’t answer.

“They’re just…the kind of people who think they’re better than everyone else,” Jinx muttered finally, crouching down to Isha’s level. “People like Cait’s family—fancy, rich—they like things to be a special kind of perfect all the time. And if you don’t fit into their perfect little boxes…” She shrugged, gesturing vaguely. “They just don’t really get things about us. Or care to try.”

Jinx waited for Isha to sign again—another question, another conversation—but as time dragged on, nothing came. Instead, she stared, something questioning lingering in her gaze—the kind of issue she couldn’t seem to shape into words—into signs.

Maybe that was for the best. Jinx’s sign to end it here.

“But let’s forget about ‘em for now, huh?” she forced a smile to her face, and it came easy in the way it always did when Isha was near. “Why don’t we wash that hair, huh? Don’t you wanna see the blue?”

Isha perked up at that, her fingers twitching in excitement—that dwelling worry faded from her eyes, and Jinx could feel the tension of her shoulders undo.

 Will it show? she signed. Her eyes grew wide, eager.

“Yeah, if you squint hard enough,” Jinx teased.  She flicked at her nose and Isha flicked back. “Come on, let’s rinse it out before Ekko starts bugging us for hogging the bathroom.”

--

Ekko ran the black, sleek silk of his tie between pinched fingers. His reflection was clear. Slim-fit suit, black leather shoes, thick belt, hair pulled back. His earrings were in—gold for tonight—and he fiddled one last time with the thin collar of his shirt, assuring its straightened tuck against the blazer.

The watch at his wrist—a tawny vintage one of Benzo’s—sat heavy and wide, its hands bent and narrow. It was nearing four o’clock—the sun not quite low, but nonetheless warm in its early-evening blaze. They had to leave soon; the party started at six. The ride would be long—stretching from city to field—and knowingly enough, Ekko liked to be early.

He huffed out a breath, spurting one last bit of cologne, and made his way into the living room.

It still smelled of lunch—that rich smell of garlic and oil and tomato soup.

Isha was already dressed, toying with their blocky iPad, happily prodding away. She’d been ready for hours now. Ekko had done her hair earlier; that sole blue streak weaving in and out of the brown in her left braid. She’d looked at him like he’d hung up the moon when he finished, crushing him in a hug.

Then she’d left her blue vest undone so it showed the black buttons of the dress shirt underneath, and Jinx had let her borrow an old bracelet she’d had from childhood—a flimsy, silver thing embedded with tiny, flickering diamonds.

Jinx, meanwhile, had been in her room for over an hour. She’d locked herself in, and Ekko could hear music leaking out from beneath that bottom slip of door, the lyrics loud and angry.

She’d been on edge all morning; spilling coffee on the counter, chewing at the dead skin of her nails. At breakfast, she’d given Isha a fork instead of the spoon she’d asked for, and the girl gave her a funny look.

Jinx seemed to be relying on distractions, taking her time with getting Isha ready. Taking time with herself.

But time was running out. She’d have to face the inevitable soon, and Ekko was scared of the consequences.

But he’d manage. He’d help make it bearable. He wouldn’t leave her side.

Ekko readjusted the hem of his sleeve, hovering by the couch. Jinx should be done soon. “You good, Bunny?”

Isha caught a glance at him—her eyes widened, like she’d only now realized his presence— and she tossed the iPad into her lap. Leaving when?

Ekko sighed. She was getting antsy from all the sitting, and the lengthy car ride would only make it worse.

“Soon,” he said, “you’ve got time for one more Dress to Impress round, kay?”

Isha loved that game—some Roblox dress-up thing. She made the three of them play together sometimes, too, just for the sake of making her win by voting her highest.

Isha nodded despite her irritated look, retreating to her tablet. She didn’t want to go to the party, but she didn’t want to lounge around waiting for it either. And frankly, neither did he.

Ekko drew a hand to his hip. “Let me go check up on Jinx.”

It wasn’t like her to take this long. She liked an entrance, sure—liked to look good—but she wasn’t the kind of person to dwell on it. To take hours. Especially not for something she sorely didn’t care to attend.

Isha hardly mustered an acknowledgment, waving an absent hand while he wandered down the hall to Jinx’s room.

He knocked once. Twice. Three times before he got some kind of response.

“Hold on!” Her voice was a muffled ring beneath the blare of her speakers—some obnoxious Deftones crap—and Ekko cleared his throat when the music came to a sudden halt.

There was shuffling—some clacking—and then her door swung open.

His breath locked in his throat—unable to flee, incapable of escape. His jaw went slack, and he had to force it shut—tight, tight, tight, as if it’d fall off otherwise. Unlock from his chin.  

Jinx stood before him like some phantasmic apparition—her cheeks flushed, he figured, from all that winding around—all that getting ready. The darkened blue of her eyes pierced through borders of thick, black eyeliner—messy, charcoal colors that reached to her eyelids, hazy and faded. Her lips were maroon—as if inked by the juice of bitten cherries.

Her hair was pinned up. Sort of. In some concoction of a bun—tiny braids peaked out the mess of it, swept at the skin of her neck, tickling.

And that dress. Thick, sturdy straps. Rich, plum silk clung to her figure, down to the floor—a sliver of pale leg crept out through a slit on her left. The chest of it was square, though lowly drooping with a pooled valley of rippled silk. Her collarbones sliced through, hollow with invitation.

For a little, all they did was stare in the silence. Ekko’s heart had turned to a hammer in his chest, thrashing, shattering.

Seraphine’s words wrestled to the forefront of his mind, taunting him, reminding him, luring him into—

Jinx’s words carved through all thoughts.

“I know I’m takin’ forever, but…” she was mumbling low. He watched the press and open of her mouth when she spoke.

Then she turned. And he gaped.

Strings—so many of them—fastened across her back in twisted strands, connected by the straps that swooped down. Jinx was trying to reach out behind her, low beneath her shoulder blades, fiddling her fingers through the purple, silken strings in a poor attempt of straightening them.

“I’m just tryin’ to get these damn things to flatten out and they’re a bitch to—”

“Let me help.” The words slipped from his mouth, tugged out by invisible hands.

Jinx turned, only a little—Ekko gazed at the gentle tilt of her hips, the crane of her neck. The narrow slope of her nose drew him to her profile, and she blinked over before shrugging defeatedly. “If you insist.”

Ekko stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. The light inside was softer, filtered through half-drawn blinds. He couldn’t meet her gaze too long as she shifted to properly present him with her back.

“Careful with it,” Jinx muttered. The words were half-sharp—a pathetic attempt at teasing—but the tone slipped out with less bite than it usually did. “Stupid thing—so delicate.”

He nodded, even though she wasn’t looking, and stepped closer, the silk of her dress gleaming faintly under the light. His fingers brushed the edge of her skin as he reached for the first set of strings, and Jinx tensed under his touch.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He took a steadying breath, working to flatten the tangled cords, pulling them taut with slow precision. His knuckles grazed her spine, warm through the thin fabric. He bit his lip to keep focus.  

There was a sharp noise—her breath hitched. She masked it with a comment. “You’re takin’ your sweet time, Boy Savior. We’ve got a real lame party to crash.”

“Done.” Ekko stepped back. He pressed his hands into the pockets at his blazer, turning them to fists. “Looks…good.”

Jinx turned to face him, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress. She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “Yeah?”

He couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away—the faint curve of her lips, the way the dress caught the light as she shifted.

His throat was dry when he spoke, suddenly desperate for a fine swig of water.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Jinx blinked for a while, silent in a way that was rare for her. Then she cleared her throat, shoving past him. He caught her perfume—something woody, something spiced.

 “Good,” Jinx muttered. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

--

The drive to Napa was long, stretched out like the grapevine lines that blanketed the hills.

Jinx was eager for its end. For the night’s end. And hell, it hadn’t even fucking started.

They crossed the Golden Gate first, its lower red arches dimmed beneath the beds of fog. The city faded behind them, replaced by winding roads and the scent of oak and open air. Rows of vineyards blurred past, glowing gold under the sinking sun.

Isha kept herself busy by coloring in the backseat, legs tucked up in the way Ekko’d always told her not to.

Jinx was toying with a ring on her finger—some purple stone that’d belonged to her mother. She clenched her jaw. In her lap was the pretty invitation—a thick, cardboard sheet bordered with swirls of dark, purple blues and deep, blooming pinks.

Please Join Us for the Engagement Of

Caitlyn Kiramman & Violet Lane

Jinx blinked down at the invite, resisting the urge to crumble it beneath the weight of her fist—tear it to shreds—shoot it out the window and into a yellow-green vineyard.

Anxiety pooled inside, a knot in her stomach. She couldn’t believe she went through with this—should’ve pulled an Isha—feigned a cough.

She kept shooting glances at Ekko—the only thing that managed to keep her grounded.

He looked good. More than good, maybe.

She couldn’t help but stare.

The suit broadened him in all the right places, Benzo’s bronze watch clinging to the skin of his wrist in a way that brightened the whole of him, accompanied by those small, gold hoop earrings.

They came to an eventual slow while Jinx’s eyes stayed pressed to the clenched knuckles of Ekko’s fingers—his grip against the wheel.

“This is it,” Ekko mumbled.

They pulled into the estate’s pathway, the car crunching beneath the shadow of towering sycamores. There were other cars ahead, too—Range Rovers and BMWs—a Rolls Royce trailed close behind them, black and gleaming beneath the setting sun.

“Jeez.” Ekko’s brows were knots at his forehead. “Didn’t know we were attending the royal wedding.”

Jinx scoffed. “Told you. Buckingham Palace.”

They turned a narrow corner and there it was.

The Kiramman manor.

It looked straight out of an Italian dream—massive windows, ivy coiling up between the slabs of beige-yellow stone. The roof was flattened and triangular—brown and steady, with a long, circled driveway bordered by flower beds and weeds. Cobblestone floors dragged up towards the massive arched doors, where butlers and waiters loitered, directing guests in pretty gowns and tailored suits.

Jinx couldn’t help it. “Jesus Christ.”

The place was sprawling—wide and expansive—with a glassy sheen of wealth clinging to every surface.

She craned her neck to look out the window and swallowed hard. She’d never been very poor. Not for real.

Her father—her biological one—worked in maintenance, and her mother was a singer who pulled the occasional gig at bars and lounges. They were tight on money often—she remembered with a hazy mind the arguments they had while they thought her and Vi were asleep. And while Vander wasn’t rich—the owner of some humble, local bar—he knew well enough how to manage his money to keep Vi and Jinx satisfied. Happy, fed, safe. He was smart with it.

But this. This was ridiculous. Inhumane, almost, at the sheer cost of it.

Jinx tutted as they neared. “This shouldn’t even be allowed to belong to one family.”

From the rear-view, Isha sat quietly in the back, clutching Lepus in her lap. She’d brought the bunny with her for moral support. Her eyes darted apprehensively between the tall windows and glowing lanterns that framed the entrance.

“You excited, Bunny?” Ekko turned to her with a small, steadying smile. Isha’s attempts at mirroring Jinx’s bitter upset seemed to fumble. She looked awed—intimidated. “It’s like a real-life castle.”

Isha shrugged, hands worrying at Lepus’ ear before finally dropping it to sign, It’s really big.

“It is,” Ekko chuckled. “But you’ll stick with us—we’ll make the best of it, yeah?”

Jinx huffed out a laugh, though it held little humor. "Best of it," she echoed, tugging at the edge of the invite. "Sure. Let's just crown Cait Queen of the Vineyard and get the hell out of here."

Ekko shot her a glance but didn’t prod, instead pulling the car forward to the valet station. A sharply dressed young man approached, giving them a polite but practiced smile.

“Good evening. Welcome to the Kiramman estate,” he said, stepping to Ekko’s window as it rolled down. “May I…”

The kid was looking at their car like the thing would explode—like Jinx had strapped a bomb to the trunk—like he’d never seen such a withered car in such a lavish place.

Still, when Ekko stepped out to hand him the keys, he nodded politely and promised to get their car “somewhere safe.”

Jinx let out a heaving breath. There was no going back now.

She really should’ve strapped a bomb.

Stepping out of the car, her narrow heels dug clumsily into the crevices of cobblestone. Ekko had pulled Isha out of her seat, crouching low to readjust her crooked vest. Lepus sat abandoned in the backseat. Lucky thing was always getting out of all their lame parties.

Together, they walked up to the towering arched doors. People were peppering around them, all headed in the same direction—an elderly couple, a group of tall, pretty girls, a family of four.

Ekko came close, Isha between them, and whispered low into her ear. “I think they forgot the red carpet.”

That managed to get a laugh from her—small but whole, it tumbled out. Ekko smiled, and she relished at the sight of it. Her shoulders loosened, just a little. She could’ve never done this without him.

At the threshold of the archway, a waiter held a tray of drinks. He offered her and Ekko two thin, narrow flutes of champagne, and Jinx took one greedily. She slugged it down in one fell swoop. Then reached for another.

The waiter made a face, but said nothing, which was a damn shame. Tonight, Jinx ached for a reason to bite.

A butler heaved open the doors, and together, the three of them sucked in a breath.

The ceiling arched high above them, with chandeliers hanging lowly, dripping crystal light. Every inch of the room gleamed—polished floors, pristine walls lined with Renaissance-style paintings, and enough flower arrangements to make the place smell like a perfume shop.

People milled about, already half-settled with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. Waiters weaved between them with trays, and the hum of polite conversation mixed with the faint notes of a string quartet playing somewhere deeper in the house. It was all so…pretentious.

“Powder!”

Jinx turned to her left, and there she was. Vi, dressed in that silk suit from the shop they’d gone to. Her hair was pulled in its usual side sweep, though gelled nicely—less flyaways. She rushed over, tugging Jinx in a hug.

“You made it,” she murmured against her shoulder. She smelled different—like some tangy cologne; something expensive. Pulling away, Vi offered a teasing grin. “And on time, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Jinx mumbled. “You can thank Ekko for that.”

Vi let out a laugh, then pulled Ekko into a hug. “Little man! Thanks for makin’ it!”

Then, much to her surprise, Vi swept Isha up too, squeezing tight. “Jeez, kid, look at you! Leave some flair for the rest of us.”

Isha giggled. Jinx furrowed a brow.

“You’re all giddy.” Her tone was accusing.

Vi shrugged, her shoulders hunching.

“Well, it is my engagement party.” Something flickered in her gaze—just for a sliver of a second—something solemn and serious, before a soft smile replaced it. She reached out to grab at Jinx’s hand. Her engagement band brushed their mother’s ring, clanging. “And I…I’m glad my family’s here.”

Jinx’s heart clenched. She’d been so busy dwelling on her own disdain that she’d forgotten Vi must’ve been drowning too, in this foreign world of shiny things. Floundering amongst crowds of pretentious, wealthy people.

She’d attended these things before, so Vi’d had her practice. But to be center of attention at an event that essentially enthroned you into this family—into this realm of wealth? That was different.

Almost everyone here—everyone but them, maybe, and Jayce, wherever he was—was here for the Kirammans. Less for Cait, even, and more for her parents. Some unspoken respectful agreement. Jinx didn’t know much about this world, but she knew well enough these things worked as open slates of business—places to meet and mingle, make financial and commercial endeavours.

Jinx couldn’t imagine the conversations—the bore, the condescension, the backhanded compliments Vi would undergo tonight. How alienating. She was Cait’s fiancée, sure, but she was also once some orphaned foster kid who’d gone to juvie; the owner of a humble sandwich shop. The only reason she belonged a shaving more than Jinx did was because Cait loved her. Wanted her.  

Jinx just hoped she’d defend her, too, when the time came. This world—these people—they didn’t deserve her sister.

She squeezed back at Vi’s hand. She would hate tonight—already did. But she had to tough it out—tough it out for Vi.

“Vi…” A voice cut through the air. Jinx recoiled at the accent.

There, behind Vi, stood Cait. She was wearing a suit, too—hers a thick white linen that hugged at the curves of her figure. Her hair was down, pressed at her back, gelled and tucked behind her ears. Heavy diamond earrings drooped, long enough to brush her shoulders.

She approached with that natural stride of hers, all smooth confidence and grace, though her smile wavered when her eyes grazed from Vi to Jinx.

“Jinx—you clean up well.” Her tone was tight when she said, “how do you do?”

“Just peachy,” she mumbled, “now that I’ve been greeted by the queen.” Jinx scowled right at her, though Cait hardly made note.

Her gaze softened upon landing on Isha, who stood clutching Ekko’s hand.

“Isha,” Cait greeted warmly, crouching slightly to meet her height. “Well, don’t you look lovely tonight.”

Isha flushed, signing her thanks, while Cait and Ekko shared a look. There was a flicker of something there that Jinx couldn’t quite figure out—but maybe she’d imagined it.

“Ekko.” Cait straightened, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve before extending her hand to him. Her smile wavered between polite and genuine. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Caitlyn,” Ekko replied, shaking her hand briefly, his grip firm but casual. His voice was tight. “Thanks for having us.”

She made to reply but couldn’t quite manage in time. Two figures barrelled over—Cait’s parents, Cassandra and Tobias. They were dressed for the event, alright. Tobias bore some tailored, blue suit with an ugly patterned bowtie, while Cassandra’s gown was silk and narrow—proper, it clung to hide the skin of her chest, her shoulders.

“Oh, Caitlyn, Violet, we’ve been looking everywhere for you two,” Cassandra drawled, nearing. She looked pathetically frantic for such a wealthy woman. What concerns could she possibly have?

Her husband hovered close—he was the quieter of the two, Jinx remembered. “Madame Medarda is back from her time in France—you must greet her—Caitlyn, you remember her, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mother, but—” she motioned to where Jinx stood with Ekko and Isha. “I’m already busy greeting our other guests—family.”

Jinx’s brows raised. Was that...defense? Jinx figured it was for Vi’s sake.

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed before loosening, her gaze dropping to Jinx. Her mouth opened, only a little, before she straightened herself up. She drew her hands together, clutching.

“Ah, yes—Vi’s sister, we’ve met before, hello—” she held out a hand, and when Jinx didn’t move to shake it, Ekko had to nudge at her shoulder. With reluctance, she dropped her hand into Cassandra’s, grip too tight. “It’s…Jinx, is it?

Jinx nodded.

“The one and only,” she flatly replied. Cassandra’s brow twitched, but her practiced smile didn’t falter.

She turned to Ekko, who was shaking hands with Tobias, and extended her own. “Oh, Jinx’s boyfriend—apologies, remind me of the name…”

Ekko cleared his throat, Jinx’s gaze widening. Between them, Isha was staring with wide eyes—she looked a little too pleased.

“We aren’t—”

“Ekko,” Jinx said, “it’s Ekko.”

She didn’t care to explain herself tonight. Not to these people. What did it matter who Ekko was to her—they didn’t deserve the proper explanation.

Ekko gave her a cautious look, but settled on saying nothing else, his grip whole on Cassandra’s hand.

Eventually, Tobias crouched, just a little. His voice was sweet; kind. “And who is this?”

Cassandra’s gaze drifted past Jinx to where Isha stood, tucked suddenly a little behind Ekko’s leg. Her eyes narrowed subtly, as if calculating.

Isha shifted uncomfortably beneath the stare, and Ekko dropped a hand to her shoulder, steadying her. “This is Isha,” he said simply.

Tobias nodded. “A foster child, isn’t she? Cait’s informed us of the…arrangement.” Arrangement? That was quite a word for it. Isha wasn’t an arrangement. “How admirable of you both.”

Jinx’s jaw tightened, and Ekko suddenly seemed to stiffen. Her hand curled instinctively around Isha’s smaller one, pulling her closer.

“Yeah,” she said. Her voice was sharp enough to cut through all pleasantries. “She’s ours.”

“How wonderful.” Cassandra’s lips stretched thin, her gaze flicking to Cait as if for confirmation. “It’s such a…noble effort to take in a child in need—we’ve taken in a few exchange students before. Though I must say, it’s quite a responsibility for young people like yourselves.”

Jinx watched as Ekko’s grip on Isha’s shoulder firmed. They shared a hardened, knowing look.

“Well, she’s not just our responsibility,” he said evenly. “She’s family.”

Cassandra nodded, her curious gaze unyielding. “Yes, of course.”

Isha jerked up, looking hard at Ekko, like she was waiting for him to take the words back. For him to laugh, like it was all some joke. But nothing came, and instead she drew the both of them closer. Jinx squeezed her hand again, presenting Isha with her first genuine smile of the evening.

The subtle shift in his tone must’ve been enough to draw Cait’s attention. She stepped closer to her parents, placing a careful hand on Cassandra’s arm.

“Mother,” she said lightly, her smile tightening, “why don’t we go greet Madame Medarda while Violet settles her sister in.”

Cassandra hesitated, her eyes flicking once more over Isha before smoothing her expression into something painfully polite. “Of course, dear. Lovely to meet you, Jinx, Ekko.”

She glanced at Isha again, her smile broadening. “And you as well, Isha.”

With a final nod, Cassandra and Tobias swept away, their departure as rehearsed as their entrance.

Jinx exhaled sharply, her grip on Isha’s hand loosening. “Lovely to meet you,” she mimicked, that accent pinched under her breath.

Ekko leaned in close, his voice low. “You handled that better than I thought you would.”

Jinx huffed a laugh, though her eyes were still narrowed in the direction of the retreating Kirammans. “Well, the night is young.”

Ekko puffed out a laugh and drew himself closer, rubbing at the bare skin of her shoulder. Jinx leaned against him; the touch warm, familiar.

Vi, watching the exchange, stepped forward with a reassuring smile. There was something else in her face—something teasing.

“Come on,” she said, her hand brushing Jinx’s arm. “Let’s get you a drink and settle in. You’re not getting through tonight without some wine.”

Jinx snorted. “You’re telling me.”

--

The Kiramman manor seemed to stretch endlessly, each turn revealing another cavernous room lit by dripping crystal chandeliers or tall, flickering candelabras.

Ekko kept Isha close, his hand on her shoulder as her wide eyes roamed over the opulence.

He couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He was a talkative person—a social butterfly—but the crowds here were tight. There were even more people than he’d expected.

Jinx walked beside him, her heels clicking unevenly on the polished marble floors. She kept her head high, but her fingers tugged at the edges of her dress in restless intervals. Isha must’ve noticed, too. She reached over to pry at one of Jinx’s hands and clung there.

“Where are we even eating?” Jinx asked, her tone raw. “They got a massive dining room, or what?”

“They do, but…” Vi hesitated, her voice bleak. She sounded almost embarrassed when she mumbled, “we’re eating in the ballroom.”

Ekko nearly froze. “The what?”

They turned a corner, and there it was.

Vi hadn’t lied. This was surely a ballroom—a space built to overwhelm. Pockets of people gathered in the lull of dulled conversation, from the hallway to the arched entrance to the inner hall.

The ceiling arched high above them, painted with delicate murals of angels and clouds. Enormous windows stretched along the walls; the drapes pulled back to reveal a dusky glow of sunset and vineyard.

Rows of circular tables dotted throughout the space, each one draped in fine, cream-colored linen. Tall centerpieces rose from the middle, floral arrangements bursting with deep blues, blush pinks, and streaks of gold. The table settings gleamed—a combination of polished silverware, crystal glassware, and plates so delicately patterned they looked more like art than dinnerware.

At the very middle was a gap of space, and Ekko figured it was meant for people to dance.

Vi led them to a smaller table near the far corner of the room, tucked away from the grand central space where the largest, most prominent tables were set.

“I’m sitting alone with Cait—” Vi pointed at a long table facing a wide, expansive window. There were two wooden chairs, draped by cloaks of linen, and nearly a dozen candles spread out across. She turned to face Jinx, her gaze apologetic. “But otherwise, I’d have made it so we could all be together, y’know?”

Jinx didn’t respond, though the scowl at her face made it known how she felt about the arrangement.

Their table was modest—the smallest one, really, with only six seats—but still elegant, with two oval lanterns casting warm light over their settings.

Jayce was already there, drinking something brown with a massive slab of ice, dressed in some white-gold tux that made him look older than he was. He’d been scrolling on his phone, but at the notice of them, he flashed that pearly smile.

Ekko couldn’t help but wonder if those things were veneers. He made a note to laugh about that with Jinx later.

“Hey, party’s all here!”

Ekko offered a wave, while Jinx hardly managed a grimace.

Across from Jayce was a buff woman Ekko’d never met—she was wearing a black, rolled-up blazer, and beneath it Ekko could see the metal of a gold, prosthetic arm.

Jinx halted, brow raised. “Sevika?” She turned to Vi. “Jesus, if you were so desperate for placeholders you could’ve just paid some randos on Craigslist.”

Vi slapped at Jinx’s arm and the woman—Sevika—only rolled her eyes. She reached for her beer and pressed the rim to her mouth. “Nice to see you, too, Jinx.”

Ekko raised a brow, and Jinx must’ve sensed his confusion. “Sevika is Vi’s sparring partner at the boxing gym she goes to.”

Ah, that made sense. Vi used to try to drag Jinx with her months ago—before Isha was even in the picture—but Jinx hadn’t grown too fond of it. She preferred shooting ranges.

“Alright, let me get you guys some drinks, huh?” Vi flashed a desperate smile, seemingly eager to change her sister’s mood. She slung an arm across Jinx’s shoulder. “What are we feeling, gang?”

“Some wine’ll do,” Ekko managed.

“Not for me.” Jinx scowled. “Gimme the strongest thing you have.” She looked over at Isha, softening. “And some juice for Bunny.”

Vi took off and came back quick with their drinks before dipping out again, murmuring something about needing to find Cait and greet guests.

Ekko settled for sitting next to Jayce, while Jinx begrudgingly sat by Sevika. Isha nestled between the both of them, drumming her fingers against the sleek silverware. She was looking around with curious eyes, and Ekko only now realized how there weren’t many other children around.

He’d been hoping he could find Isha a friend here, but maybe these kinds of kids weren’t up Isha’s alley anyway.

Ekko leaned low toward Isha, his voice soft as he smoothed out a braid that’d gone askew. “You okay?”

Isha nodded, fidgeting with the straw of her cranberry juice. She usually liked people—liked big places—places like the mall, the park. But this was different—the feel of it—and even Isha could tell the difference, feel the weight of her surroundings. Her eyes kept darting to the enormous chandeliers, the crowded tables, and the blur of servers weaving through the room.

Jinx noticed too. She rested her elbow on the table and leaned closer, lowering her voice. “It’s a lot, huh?”

Isha offered a shrug, her fingers hovering with reluctance. Big. Loud.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jinx gave a sharp smile, her tone softer than usual. “Don’t worry, though. Nobody here is cooler than you.” She reached out, brushing a strand of Isha’s hair back.

Isha’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile, and Ekko felt a small knot in his chest loosen.

While Jinx and Isha busied themselves by playing with their silverware—Jinx making it so her fork was yelling at Isha’s knife for improperly parking by her dish—Ekko shot a glance across the hall, soaking up the crowd.

God, this thing was more massive than he’d thought. At least Jinx was doing better than he’d expected. But like she’d said, the night was young, and her patience was a thin and weary thing—something that broke more than it bent. He’d have to keep his eyes on her.

Not that it was hard. She was all he could see tonight, shadows licking at her skin from the low flicker of the candles, the dim crystal light.

Behind Jinx, Ekko caught sight of Cait and her mother walking with a tall, strong-framed woman. She almost looked like…

“Jinx,” Ekko started. “Cait’s mother, she said something about someone…Medarda—"

The only empty seat at their table groaned to life, right between Sevika and Jayce. His voice broke, jaw dropping.

Ekko’s brows furrowed. He paused in is seat. “Mel?”

Mel—the doctor, Mel. She was here, wearing some red, silk gown with a haltered-neck that clung to her figure. While she always looked poise, even in scrubs, this only amplified the notion.

“Ekko?” She looked at him hard, like she couldn’t believe her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Vi, she’s my—” he looked at Jinx, unsure what to call her. Why was he stuttering? “My best friend’s sister. Why are you here?”

“My mother—she’s known Caitlyn’s mother for years now—our families have some kind of business alliance.”

Ekko blanked. “Why aren’t you sitting with her?”

Mel waved a hand. “I’m afraid my mother doesn’t deem me suitable for her business endeavours…and I suppose this table was all they could manage.”

Ekko found that hard to believe. Mel was a smart woman, a well-spoken woman. What was there to find unsuited?

Jinx huffed. “Nice,” she slurred, “the outcast table. How stunning.”

Across the table, Mel offered Isha a tiny wave. “Hi, Isha. You remember me, right?”

Isha nodded heartily, waving with a wide smile. Mel was well aware of the fostering thing—she was the first one at work he told, and she was only ever supportive and helpful.

Between Ekko and Mel, Jayce was staring. At Mel. Hard.

“Ekko,” he chided, “don’t tell me you know this stunning woman.”

“Lord, Jayce,” Ekko said, giving him a side glance, “don’t make it weird. She’s a doctor at my hospital, we work in the same department.”

Jayce ignored him, leaning forward with that practiced grin of his, all (fake?) teeth and charm. “You didn’t tell me the hospital had staff like this. I’d break my leg just for an excuse to visit.”

Mel raised a brow, unimpressed but not entirely dismissive. She set her clutch on the table, and Ekko caught a glimpse of pink at her cheeks. “Let me know how that works out for you.”

Jinx bit into a slice of bread from a basket at the center of the table, teeth tearing at that warm middle. “Don’t bother, doc,” she mumbled, her mouth full, “he’s a problem you don’t want.”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, his grin unfaltering, as if Jinx’s jab only encouraged him. Ekko nearly burst out laughing at the sight.

“Oh, come on, Jinx. Give me some credit.” He turned his attention back to Mel, his voice dipping into something he likely thought was smooth. “Don’t listen to her. I’m far less problematic than I look.”

Mel’s lips quirked slightly, though her eyes were sharp. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Ekko shifted in his seat, glancing between Jayce and Jinx. He could see the irritation flickering in her gaze, masked only partially by her bread-tearing. He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough for her to hear. “You good?”

Jinx shot him a look, her brows raised. She slugged down a sip of cocktail, her face souring. Vi really must’ve asked for it to be strong. “Oh, I’m fantastic. Watching Jayce crash and burn? Highlight of my night.”

Ekko laughed, though his eyes stayed fixed on her for a moment too long.

She really did look incredible tonight. The light, the dress, the hair all framed her in a way that made her presence impossible to ignore, even amidst the grandeur of the room.

But he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand kept fiddling with her fork. This wasn’t her world—she wasn’t built for the tight smiles and the subtle cuts hidden in polite conversation.

Ekko leaned back, his voice low but steady. “You know, we’re not stuck here forever. If it gets bad, we’ll bail early.”

Jinx’s lips twitched into a small, fleeting smile. “What, and miss Cait’s coronation? Never.” She hummed, thoughtful. “Besides…Vi needs me.”

It was true. This table was really most of what Vi had—the only family and friends she had that weren’t tied, in some way, to Cait or her parents.

Before Ekko could reply, a sharp tap of a microphone pierced through the room. The quiet hum of conversation softened as all heads turned toward the podium at the far end of the ballroom, where a band was settling their strumming to a gentle lull.

Vi stood there, Cait at her arm, holding a microphone with one hand and a champagne flute with the other. She looked poised, but Ekko could see the faint flush in her cheeks, the nervous energy in the way she shifted her weight.

“The hell,” Jinx murmured, sinking slightly in her chair. “Didn’t think she’d be giving a speech.”

Vi cleared her throat, the microphone screeching at the slight shake in her breath. She glanced around the room, her gaze landing on Jinx. Her lips quirked into a nervous smile.

“Wow, look at this crowd,” she chuckled. “I’d like to thank everyone for being here tonight,” she said, her voice steadying. “It means a lot to Cait—to the both of us—to have you all here to celebrate.”

She paused, her eyes softening as they found Caitlyn’s. “I never thought I’d be standing in a place like this, with a woman like Cait by my side.” The crowd erupted in a sea of awes and ohs, and Ekko could hear the scoff that fled Jinx’s throat.

“Growing up, my sister and I weren’t exactly the picture of luck. Our parents passed too young—a year apart—and then we were left with…Vander—"

Her voice broke, and Vi shoved the mic away to clear her throat. Cait pressed a reassuring hand at her shoulder, and the look at her face was sullen, genuine, like Vi’s pain was her own, like she felt it, too. Ekko understood enough. He felt that way with Jinx.

“He wasn’t just our guardian. He was our family. Our father. The one who made me who I am, taught me what I know—taught me to fight for what I believe in.” Vi shook her head, lost in thought. “What I’d give for him to be here…for my parents to be here…you wouldn’t know.”

Ekko shot a look at Jinx. Her throat was tight, and there was a sheen of wetness in her eyes, that misty blue gone glossy. Ekko reached across Isha, prying for Jinx’s hand and shoving it into his lap. Their fingers twined together—the most natural thing in the world, the most instinctive—and her grip was iron in his.

At the podium, Vi’s face changed from somber to focused—to raw. She looked at Jinx, at him, at Isha, and the smile she bore brightened the whole of her. “But while I miss them, I only find myself more grateful for the family I have left.”

Jinx’s hand slackened in Ekko’s, her breath hitched.

“My sister, Jinx. Our childhood friend, Ekko…my niece, Isha.” Between them, Isha let out a gasp of surprise. She was darting between Jinx and Ekko again, as if waiting for them to deny it. But when no rejection came, her cheeks flushed pink, and she reached over to rest her chin on the arm Jinx had slung across her, nestling close. “Having the three of you here, having your support…it keeps me grounded. Makes this all feel less…overwhelming.”

Ekko’s collar suddenly felt too tight at his throat, and he pulled Isha and Jinx as close as he could despite the chairs between them.

Vi cleared her throat again, her gaze returning to Cait.

Her expression softened in a way that seemed to quiet the entire room.

 “And then there’s Cait.” She took a breath, her smile pulling wide, steadying herself with the champagne flute in her other hand. “Caitlyn was the first person to look at me and not only see… damage. She didn’t see a foster kid with a chip on her shoulder. She saw my broken pieces, sure. She saw my anger—hell, who couldn’t? But she didn’t limit me to those…didn’t boil me down to all my mistakes, my grievances. She just…saw me. Just me, all of me.”

Cait was blinking too quickly, and Ekko knew well enough that she was trying to hold back her own tears.

“She’s taught me what it means to trust, to feel safe, and to build something real—something permanent. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Jinx stiffened suddenly in his grip, and her face shuttered for the first time with something he quite couldn’t read. Empathy? Disdain?

The room was utterly silent now, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Vi raised her glass, her voice a little steadier.

“So here’s to Caitlyn Kiramman—my fiancée, my future, and my forever.”

—

The menu was just ridiculous.

Five fucking courses, with a midnight sweets table to come later, too.

Jinx was three drinks in when the first plate came; an apple, goat cheese and arugula salad, drizzled with balsamic glaze and candied walnuts. Isha poked at the lettuce with a cautious fork, opting instead for small bites of sliced apple.

“Try the walnuts, Bunny,” Ekko pried. “They’re sweet.”

She plopped a cautious piece in her mouth and scowled—still not enough sugar for her, Jinx figured.

Jinx had started to worry that Isha wouldn’t eat all night—she knew Isha wouldn’t be fond of lamb, either. But the dish of pasta came as if only to save them, right around seven fifteen; a healthy portion of cavatelli dressed with a sweet, pungent rosé sauce, a leaf of basil adorned.

Isha scarfed her plate down, and Jinx took another sip of red wine.

She should’ve paced herself, the room had started to feel hazy in that slurred, honeyed kind of way—her chest felt light, despite herself.

Vi’s speech wasn’t something she’d exactly expected. She knew Vi must’ve loved Cait in some irrefutable way; the kind of way that was enough for sacrifices, for tolerating a lifestyle so foreign, so unlike herself. But to deem it limitless, boundless, whole? Jinx didn’t get it, how Vi believed someone like Cait—Cait, who’d grown up with a silver-spoon perched in the crevice of that narrow, spoiled mouth—could ever understand her.

But maybe it wasn’t about understanding. Maybe it was about seeing. And if Cait saw Vi for who she was—bad and good and angry and sad—and loved her all the same…then there must’ve been something Jinx was missing.

Jinx narrowed her gaze to where Vi and Cait sat at their table alone, laughing with love-struck eyes, hands clasped atop the linen cloth.

She couldn’t get it. She never would.

But as long as Cait kept Vi feeling whole, safe, loved…then maybe she’d tolerate it. She didn’t have to like her—surely would never love her. But Vi had never looked so happy, and Jinx knew now that she and Ekko alone would never be enough to keep her content.

Next to her, Isha tugged at the silk of her dress. Can we get more? She pointed at the pasta, and Jinx laughed. She swapped their plates; Jinx had hardly touched any of it. She was drinking on a half-empty stomach, and maybe that was what’d made her so sappy. Because now she was looking at Isha—Ekko beside her, offering some grated parmesan—and her heart felt stupidly whole.

Vi calling Isha her niece was something she’d expected even less. But that too had grown undeniably right—true.

And for the first time—the first admitted time—Jinx was suddenly struck with the realization.

She couldn’t lose this.

Isha had grown too intertwined; too close to her heart.

How could she go on? How could she live a whole life without this, knowing how good she’d had it?

She imagined herself at their apartment alone, fidgeting aimlessly with the same scrap piece of metal on a dingy couch while Isha wandered the vast, empty halls of a place just like this one—shiny, new parents too busy to fuss over her, to make sure she was okay.

A world where Ekko’d long moved out—some fancier apartment, with a beautiful girl, and their own child. He’d text her once a week at best. Send her photos of them on some pretty beach vacation, a hiking trip, some buzzing European city.  

The thought alone made her feel sick.

No, they were hers. Hers. And she couldn’t ruin it. Wouldn’t.

Her, Isha, Ekko, Vi…hell, she supposed Cait too, now, thanks to Vi’s fine choice in women—this was her family. And she couldn’t let that crumble.

“Uh—excuse me?”

Jinx snapped around. People at the centre of the hall had started dancing to the upbeat strum of music—the band was singing some Etta James cover—and by their table stood a girl, about Isha’s age. She had short blonde hair, and beneath her dress were two metal legs—prosthetics, much like Sevika’s.

She was holding some console—a Nintendo Switch, Jinx thought—and she was looking at Isha.

Isha stared blankly back.

“I saw you from my table,” the girl said in a tiny voice, pointing to one of the outer middle tables. Her parents must’ve been relevant enough to be seated so close towards the heart of the ballroom. God, how awfully boring it must’ve been for her.

She looked shy, and it must’ve taken a whole lot of effort for her to approach Isha in the first place. Eventually, she held up her Switch and mumbled, “…do you wanna play?”

Isha looked between Jinx and Ekko, as if unsure what to do. Her face was teetering on eagerness and concern, like she wanted to, but couldn’t tell if she should.

Ekko laughed. He looked almost happier than she did. “Go on, Isha,” he said, “we’ll be right here.”  

But…she signed, face etched in concern, she won’t understand. 

Ekko hunched down, his voice a reassuring whisper. “You can try. I’m sure she’ll figure it out.”

Jinx nodded. “Besides,” she said, “all you have to do is play the game.”

Isha gulped, looking back to where the girl was standing. She was looking a little worried, like Isha would reject her offer.

Jinx gave Isha’s hand one last reassuring squeeze, and it seemed to do enough. Isha stood, nodding in agreement, and waving a hello. The girl just beamed.

“Awesome! Come on, there’s some sofas over there. You know Mario Kart, right?”

Isha gave a small nod, though her fingers twitched nervously. She glanced back at Jinx and Ekko one last time, seeking silent reassurance. They offered her a thumbs up, and Isha finally looked away. Together, they scampered off.

“Your dad—he called you Isha, didn’t he? My name is Orianna…” her voice trailed off into the crowd, and Jinx and Ekko watched as they settled themselves in a cornered, cushioned bench by a pair of green, bending plants.

The empty gap between Jinx and Ekko now gave her more leverage to see him. He looked frozen beneath the dim, orange lights—dipped in something like honey. She shoved herself over to where Isha had been sitting, the gap between them hardly closing enough.

Sometimes, it felt like there was still too much space between them—even when pressed chest to chest.

“Dad, huh?”

Ekko looked at her, wide-eyed. There was a smile creeping on his mouth, and he looked prettily bashful. “She’s just a kid, Jinx, she just assumed…”

“Sure,” Jinx brought that glass of wine to her mouth, taking one last gulp. The thing had gone empty, stained only now by dregs and maroon colored lipstick. “Whatever you say.”

Next to Ekko, there was the sudden clatter of silverware against dinner plate. Jayce rose to his feet, setting down his glass of wine. He adjusted the clip of his tie, then held out a burly hand. “Doctor Mel,” he said, “can I convince you to join me for a dance?”

Mel glanced up from her drink, one elegant brow arching.  “I don’t recall asking to be convinced.”

Jayce only shrugged. God, he was so cocky—he never faltered. “Well, consider this a challenge.”

Mel’s lips curved into a faint smile as she set down her glass. “Alright, then.”

Jinx gaped. As Mel and Jayce made their way to the center of the hall, Jinx turned to Ekko, scoffing.

“There’s no way in hell that actually worked on her.” Her mouth twisted to some disbelieving scowl.

Ekko laughed, shrugging. “But it did.”

Jinx became painfully aware that they were the only ones left at the table now—Sevika was at the bar, flirting with some chesty woman in a yellow dress, beer bottle pressed to her mouth.

She pushed back in her chair, shoving it closer to Ekko.

“Jayce is ridiculous.” She glanced toward the dance floor, where Mel and Jayce were already moving together, his hand at her waist, her movements fluid and unbothered. “Honestly, it’s nauseating.”

Ekko tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “What about you?”

Jinx shot him a look. “What about me?”

He hesitated, running a hand over the back of his neck before resting his forearms on the table. “You wanna dance?”

The words hung in the air for a second too long, sinking into the quiet between them. Jinx stared at him, her brows knitting together like she hadn’t heard him right.

“You’re joking,” she said finally, her voice flat. “Right?”

“I’m not,” Ekko replied, his tone calm but steady, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Come on. This is a party—even Isha’s having fun.”

Jinx narrowed her eyes, like she was looking for some kind of tell—a crack in his confidence or a sign of teasing. But there wasn’t one. He was just… waiting.

Her lips twitched, half in disbelief, half in amusement. “You’re serious.”

“Entirely, impossibly serious,” Ekko said, standing slowly and holding out his hand.

Jinx stared at his outstretched hand like it might bite her, then glanced up at him. He looked pathetically good in his suit—his movements easy, his gold earrings catching the light. She felt something twist low in her stomach.

“You step on my toes, and I’m out,” she muttered, pushing herself to her feet.

Ekko grinned; his hand still extended. Jinx took it, fingers coiling between his own. “Deal.”

--

The center of the ballroom felt even more polished, somehow, as if made of delicate glass. The soles of Ekko’s shoes smoothed as he pattered forward, Jinx’s hand clinging to his.

He found a quiet patch by Jayce and Mel—less crowded than the very heart of the ballroom, where people danced in sardined crowds—and right as they settled to a stop, the band began a new song. Some 90’s ballad by the Goo-Goo Dolls that Ekko couldn’t quite remember the name of.

Ekko drew Jinx close, his hands caught in that plum, silk of her waist, the pads of his fingers barely brushing the bare skin of her back beneath all those thin, wiry strings. She pressed her chest to his, arms twining at his neck like their shared touch was the easiest thing in the world.

Maybe it was.

Together, they swayed in place, Jinx’s skin rippling with the diamond shadow of crystal light that poured down from those heaving chandeliers. Her makeup had become somewhat undone, eyeshadow smudged too messily at her lids—her lipstick half-stained and raw.

“So,” Ekko started, “Jayce totally got veneers, right?”

Jinx’s eyes widened at the suddenness of his statement. “What?” And then she was laughing freely in his arms, smile broad. “Aren’t I supposed to be the drunk one?”

“No, I’m serious, look—” Ekko pointed an eager finger toward Mel and Jayce. His mouth was closed for now, but Jayce laughed like a politician, and he knew it’d be open in no time. “Wait for him to smile…hold on…”

They watched closely—chests pressed while they swung—and soon enough, Jayce’s smile came. Mel seemed to have cracked a joke, and Jayce’s laughter poured from his broadened jaw—his teeth pearly, pearly white. “There it is!”

Jinx jerkily moved to muffle her laugh against his shoulder, mouth at the breast pocket of his jacket. She’d probably stained it maroon, but Ekko didn’t have it in him to care. “No—that’s just him, Ekko.”

“No way—” he was laughing, too. “No, they weren’t always like that—”

“He just got them whitened—”

“Those are fake—” he insisted. “Fake as hell.”

Jinx, still snickering, shot another look at Jayce. Her eyes narrowed, dissecting in the way Isha always liked to do. She turned back to him, settling on smiling.

“Whatever.” Her movements were unsteady—she had to be a little tipsy by now, and Ekko kept her closer to keep her grounded. “you’re just jealous.”

“Of Jayce’s fake teeth? Please,” Ekko scoffed. Before he could stop himself, the words fled his mouth. “You’re one to talk about jealousy.”

Jinx froze in his hands, eyes narrowing. She was looking at him hard, but there was something still playful there—something different, something liquid smooth. His stomach burned beneath that gaze of hers in a way it never had.

Her breath was warm when she said, slowly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ekko clenched his jaw. He’d gone for uncharted territory. “Y’know,” he started, “that whole thing at the mall…”

Jinx cocked up an accusing brow. Her mouth was a pinched, narrow line, but her grip on him only tightened. “You think I was jealous of that girl?”

“No,” he said, “just…possessive, maybe. Defensive.”

“So what if I was?” She challenged, half-confessed. “I thought you didn’t even like her? I was only doin’ you a favor.”

“I know,” he murmured. His hands were fully at her back now, twined between and atop all those pretty, dainty strings. “She turned me down, too, anyway.”

“What?” Jinx frowned. “When? You didn’t tell me.”

“At work, before we got the call from Isha’s school.” He let out a huff of breath, and Jinx’s mouth parted. “I shouldn’t have expected her to understand this—this situation—” he motioned to her with the tilt of his chin. “We’re not like other people…other friends.”

For a while, Jinx said nothing. The music engulfed them, drawing near its end. He could feel Jinx’s fingers fiddling with themselves around the base of his neck, and something in her eyes was flickering.

“We’re not,” Jinx whispered, finally. She drew him closer, a teasing smile toying at the corners of that pretty, slender mouth. Their foreheads nearly brushed, and Ekko savored the nearness of her. “We’re worse.”

--

Orianna was funny.

That was the first thing Isha uncovered, there beneath the shadowed, heaving dip of Swiss Cheese plant leaves.

Her dad was a doctor, she’d said. He worked with the dad of that lady Jinx didn’t like; the one Vi was marrying—Caitlyn.

“I’m really glad I spotted you,” Orianna said eventually, fingers fiddling with the knobs of her Nintendo Switch. It was a bright yellow, and Isha liked the color. “Everyone at my table is lame. Grown-ups are so boring.”

Isha had only shrugged. Jinx and Ekko weren’t boring—they were funny—and they were grown-ups, too.

The second thing Orianna told her was that she was seven, too—only three months older than Isha, born in June.

Next, Isha realized that while Orianna was pretty good at Mario Kart, Isha was better—her thumbs worked with more precision, even though the knobs were smaller than the ones of Ekko’s Xbox back home.

She won three games back-to-back—Orianna only had one Switch, so they’d had to take turns and watch each other play. Orianna gaped when Isha finished. “How do you do that?”

Isha laughed, shrugging again. She wanted to tell Orianna she had practiced tons at home, and that maybe if she wanted to, she could come over one day, and they could play a proper game.

She liked Orianna a lot, even though they’d just met. Isha wasn’t sure what having a friend was like, but she figured it must feel an awful lot like this.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel upset. Orianna wouldn’t understand her if she signed, and Isha only grew frustrated. She wanted to talk to her, too. To express herself.

Then Orianna had an idea. “Wait!” She stood, suddenly urgent. “Stay here! I’ll be right back!”

She rushed over to her table, leaving Isha alone for hardly a minute. Isha watched as she pried into the little bag she’d brought with her—it hung from the back of her chair, blue and thick.

She came back clutching a narrow thing—some pen made for her Switch. “Can you spell?”

Isha bit her lip, doubtful. She could, but not well. But she could draw, and that would do a whole lot better. Orianna opened a paint app on her Switch, and Isha took the pretend-pen from her hands with eagerness.  

She drew as quickly as she could, the inside of her home. The living room, with their worn carpet and fluffy, olive couch. Then she drew Ekko—his white hair and huge smile—and Jinx with her two, messy blue braids. They held hands in a corner. Then she drew herself, sitting on the couch. And right next to her, she drew Orianna, the both of them holding controllers.

She presented the drawing, and hoped she wasn’t blushing too hard.

“Oh!” Orianna smiled—she was missing a front tooth, and Isha grinned. Hers had grown out by now, but the other was growing looser by the day. “Yeah—I’d love to come over! Or you can even come to mine!”

Isha nodded happily—this meant they were friends, didn’t it? Friends went to each other’s houses. They hung out after school.

Orianna’s smile suddenly twisted—she burst out laughing, pointing a finger. “Look,” she was giggling, “your parents are dancing! Ugh, mine suck—they’d be caught dead before doing that.”

Isha gaped.

Her gaze darted to the dance floor, where Orianna had pointed. At first, she couldn’t believe it. Jinx and Ekko were dancing.

Her…parents.

The word stuck in her head like gum to a shoe, stubborn and strange. The way she said it so casually, like it was obvious—like that’s what they were undeniably—made Isha’s chest feel weird. Warm, kind of. Tight, too. Not that Orianna knew the truth. But still…

She watched them, frozen for a moment as her stylus hovered over the Switch screen. Jinx had that look on her face—the one she always got when she was pretending something wasn’t a big deal but really, really cared. And Ekko… He looked softer than usual, his usual teasing grin dialed down into something Isha didn’t quite have words for.

They weren’t even doing anything fancy, just moving slowly, but it was different from when Ekko danced with her in the living room or when Jinx spun her around like a tornado. This felt… quieter. Closer. Like they were telling each other a secret with no words at all.

Jinx laughed at something Ekko said, tilting her head back, and Ekko was just looking at her—like she was the only person in the whole, glittering ballroom.

“Guess they really do like each other,” Orianna said through a giggle, breaking the spell.

Eventually, the music came to a stop. They’d started serving the main course, and Orianna’s father came to call her. He was an older man—way older than Jinx and Ekko—and he looked intimidating. Serious. Isha guessed easily why she’d find his conversation so boring.

“Orianna, come along,” he said. “You can play with your friend later.”

Friend. Orianna and Isha offered each other tiny waves, and Jinx came to guide her back, too, hands clutched together.

Isha grinned her whole way back to the table, stumbling into her seat between Jinx and Ekko with that smile still plastered to her face.

“Oh,” Jinx teased, “someone had fun.”

Isha could say the same to her, but figured she’d let it be. Just this once.

A plate of lamb came, the bones thin—grayish-white—and Isha hardly bothered. Still, Ekko insisted, and she took the tiniest of bites. The taste came dry, the potatoes gooey, and she suddenly was grateful she’d stuffed herself on pasta. She just wanted to get back to playing with Orianna.

She was so busy shooting quickened glances back at the girl that she hadn’t realized Jinx slanting over, talking to Ekko, wine glass in hand. Isha’s elbow knocked at the stem of it, just a little, and Jinx jerked back too suddenly.

Red, ruddy wine spilled, staining at the silk stomach of Jinx’s dress.

“Shit,” Jinx mumbled, prying at a napkin and trying to force off the beads that clung to the drenched material. Ekko shot up—an arrow flying—and crouched over to help. He was observing Jinx’s stomach like the stain had come from a deep, lethal wound—like he’d have to save her from something.

Isha stared. Her heart hammered in her ears. She’d just ruined M—Jinx’s…dress.

She drew a fist to her chest, circling, circling. Ekko and Jinx’s head snapped up at the sudden whimper that fled her mouth, and they both softened all at once, every wrinkle of concern withering to nothing.

“No—no, don’t worry, Bunny,” Jinx murmured, “I shouldn’t have leaned over like that—that’s my fault.”

She didn’t sound angry, but still Isha’s guilt crept up.

Still, Isha should’ve noticed. She kept her fist at her chest, circling for too long—‘til Ekko pried it away, draping both hands over her own.

“It’s okay,” Ekko said, voice a lull, “it’ll come off.”

Only, it didn’t. Jinx was patting at the stain with a wet napkin, but all that did was leave bits of white against the purple silk, the napkin undoing.

Eventually, Orianna came over with her Switch again, eager to get back to their spot on that bench. Isha hesitated, stilling in her seat.

“Go ahead, Isha,” Ekko said. He smiled, tugging at a braid with affection. “You’re not missing anything special here.”

Isha walked off with reluctance, shooting backwards glances at Jinx and Ekko, like they’d call for her to come back.

She played two more rounds of Mario Kart—losing both—before Vi, Jinx and Ekko came over. She wasn’t sure where Vi had spawned from.

Jinx crouched low, a hand at her shoulder.

“Hey,” she started, “I’m just goin’ to get this silly stain off in the bathroom. Stay with Vi, ‘kay?”

 She nodded, shoulders slumping with what was left of her guilt. Next to Jinx, Ekko smiled. “We won’t be long, Bunny.”

Jinx pressed a kiss to Isha’s forehead before stumbling off, heels clacking at the floor. Ekko had a hand at her back, guiding her out of the ballroom like a trained, paid bodyguard.

Vi swooped down next to her—she was smiling, though Isha could see the tinge of anxiety at her face. She’d never been left alone with Isha before, and Isha wondered if she was scared of something—like Isha would lunge at her and bite.

She could. To be funny. But that’d be mean.

“So,” Vi said, drumming at her thighs, “what are we up to?”

Orianna and Isha blinked blankly back, neither saying a word, even though Orianna could speak. A lot.

Vi stared, her smile faltering. “Oookayy.”

For a little while, Vi watched as they played more rounds of Mario Kart. She was actually fun to have around—some eager coach, always telling Isha where to go and how to hit the cubes. Turned out her advice worked, too.

But eventually, Vi grew busy. Some girls had come up to her, introducing themselves as Caitlyn’s college friends, and Vi lost herself in conversation.

That was when it happened.

She was almost at the finish-line when Orianna’s Nintendo Switch shut—the screen going back. The thing had died from its overuse, the battery drained, and the two of them let out a collective groan.

For a while, they stayed observing the bustling hall and its fancy guests. Orianna had taken to creating pretend conversations for certain pockets of people, mocking them, putting on voices, and making Isha laugh. But eventually, that got boring, too.

“Hey,” Orianna said, voice a sudden whisper. “I have an idea…”

Isha leaned forward, curious.

“Let’s go explore.” She darted her gaze to the outer hall, where people came and went, gowns brushing the marble. “This place is so big…who knows what they’re hiding in here.”

Isha wasn’t sure. Jinx and Ekko wanted her to stay here, and Vi wouldn’t let her just go off…but Vi was busy. She was standing now, her back facing the both of them, and she probably wouldn’t notice if they slipped out, just for a little.

Besides, she wanted her friend to think she was cool. And Isha really did want to sneak off.

Eventually, Isha nodded, and Orianna beamed.

Orianna reached for her hand, and together they padded out. Isha shot a look back at Vi, and the woman noticed nothing.

Wow. Almost too easy.

Isha's heart thumped in her chest, equal parts excitement and worry. Jinx and Ekko wouldn’t be mad, right? She’d only be gone a minute.

The hallway was long, lined with towering windows on one side and elegant sconces on the other. Voices drifted from somewhere ahead, low and muffled. Orianna slowed, tugging Isha gently toward the shadows of a wide, leafy fern.

“Shh,” Orianna whispered, her grin mischievous.

Isha peeked out from behind the plant, her heart skipping when she recognized the voices. In a tinier hallway was Caitlyn and her parents. Cait looked worried, stressed. Her parents only looked more upset.

“The food’s fine, Mother,” Caitlyn was saying. She sounded annoyed—she was talking to them in that way Jinx sometimes spoke when she was really, really tired.

“Fine?” Cassandra’s voice carried an edge of disapproval. “The lamb was overcooked. Honestly, I expected more from the caterers.”

Tobias hummed in agreement. “And Violet’s sister—I saw her walk past earlier, a stain on her dress. Poor thing can hardly hold herself together.”

Vi’s sister…?

Isha’s chest tightened at the mention of Jinx. Her fingers gripped Orianna’s hand tighter.

“Father, I assume that was an accident,” Caitlyn said, her voice cooling further. Was she…defending Jinx?

“I suppose,” Cassandra replied, though her tone suggested otherwise. “Still, it’s all very… chaotic, isn’t it, Vi’s family—”

“—And that child,” Tobias added, his voice laced with something that sounded like pity. “They’re so young to be fostering, don’t you think? I doubt they have the resources or the stability. It’s a noble effort, of course, but...”

“They mean well,” Cassandra said, though her tone was dripping with snootiness. “But I wonder how long it’ll last. Poor girl will probably be moved homes soon enough. It’s such a shame. Children need structure.”

Isha’s stomach dropped. Her chest felt tight, her hand shaking slightly where it clutched Orianna’s. She could feel her friend staring at her, wide-eyed, but Isha couldn’t meet her gaze.

“Mother, Father.” Caitlyn’s voice was sharp now, cutting through the conversation like a blade. “I had my doubts, too, but…Isha is happy. Jinx has her moments, yes, but they’re doing a good job at raising her.”

Cassandra made a soft, dismissive sound. “I’m sure they’re trying their best, Caitlyn, but let’s be realistic. They’re so young, and neither of them has the experience—”

“They’re family,” Caitlyn snapped, her voice firm. “Clearly, they love her, and she’s happy with them. Isn’t that what matters?”

The silence that followed was tense, heavy with unspoken words. The sudden reminder of her impermanence struck like a blow to the face.

Isha couldn’t take it anymore. Her breath hitched, and she yanked her hand free from Orianna’s grasp.

“Isha, wait—” Orianna whispered, but Isha was already running.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she darted down the hallway, her shoes clicking against the floor. She didn’t know where she was going—she just needed to get away. From the voices, from the pity, from the horrible knot twisting tighter and tighter in her chest.

Tears blurred her vision—elegant statues and perched paints became mere hazy things that swooshed past her.

Move homes? They thought Jinx and Ekko couldn’t take care of her?

Isha felt suddenly angry. They didn’t know anything. Didn’t know her…didn’t know her—her…parents?

Jinx’s words resonated now, echoing in her mind.

“They just don’t really get things about us. Or care to try.”

But in a way—what made it infinitely worse—was that they weren’t fully wrong. She wasn’t meant to be there forever. She knew that from the start, and she felt stupid, suddenly—angry—for having let herself believe things might’ve changed.

But the truth was what it was now, and she couldn’t help it: she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want anyone else.

—

A loitering waiter led them to a bathroom in some cornered hallway, where the space was long and wide—painted frames hung perched on walls of white-blue wallpaper. Here, the floors were patterned webs of expensive, ornate hardwood.

Even the doors were massive—thick and brown and shiny. Jinx fisted the pretty, curling handle at the very end of the hallway, heaving the door open.

She gaped.

The bathroom was massive. The floors made of polished, white marble embedded with mismatched streaks of beige. The sink was long and thin—a slab of sleek concrete that dipped at its middle like a plunging valley, topped by a gold, burly faucet. There was a circled mirror above it—two bronze candle frames perched at either side, flickering gold—another clinging to the wall across, stretching from floor to ceiling.

Everything looked veiled in gold—a lull of lavender pierced through, wafting.

“Jesus Christ,” Jinx mumbled. She stepped inside, narrow heels clacking at the marble. “Excessive much?”

Ekko hovered close behind her. He let out a whistle. “That’s hardly the word for it.”

She plucked at the neat pile of fresh, square hand towels tucked in the corner of the counter and drew one under the running water of the sink, squeezing hard then pressing low at the silky stain of her dress—right above her belly button.

There was a click. That chirpy, distant hum of party goers submerged—Ekko had shut the door. He was leaning against the heavy mahogany frame of it, eyes narrowing to where she was rubbing out the stain. Well—trying to.

The misshapen mark at her stomach only grew patchy and dark from the water. Jinx groaned.

“Haven’t you ever heard,” he mumbled, a small smile toying at the ends of his pretty mouth, “that you’re not supposed to rub it out. That’ll only make it worse.”

Jinx shrugged. She only forced harder, the feel of it making the skin beneath her dress feel raw and tight. “Pretty sure that’s some bullshit myth.”

“’Course you’d think so.” Ekko came close, facing her from where her back bent against the outer sink wall. He looked bathed in gold beneath the honeyed glow of the room, holding out a hand, palm upright, fingers curling and uncurling. Her eyes met his. “C’mon. Let me do it.”

Jinx scowled at him. The feel of it was half-hearted. She dropped the towel down into his open hands. He smiled at her, clenching, stepping closer, and something in her ignited. She could smell the rich, whiskey-thick spoor of his cologne; the way it clung to him.

He drew the towel to the stain—right at the taut, silk-cloaked middle of her stomach—and pressed the towel down in soft, dabbing bursts.

Jinx kept her eyes at the careful flick of his wrist, the skin of his knuckles. “I’ve been lettin’ you take care of me too much lately.”

Ekko huffed—a hot, low chuckle from the depths of his throat. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Me?” Jinx scoffed, shrugging.

Ekko dropped his other hand to her hip—his fingers warm even through the thin, smooth silk of her dress. “Quit moving.”

Jinx gulped. “Just saying. You’re the one with the whole…savior thing.”

Ekko’s brows raised, only a little—a subconscious thing. His eyes stayed low, glued at her stomach, pupils dilated, while his right hand worked at the stain. “What?”

“Y’know,” Jinx breathed. She could taste the tart wine on her tongue—the tangy spur of alcohol. It made everything hot—leaking into her stomach and casting warmth at the core of her. “Always needing to save the day. Always needing to help. Always cleanin’ up my messes.”

Jinx thought back to Vi’s words—that Cait saw Vi for who she wholly was. For all her pieces.

Did Ekko see her like that, too? Or were they too close for comfort—too much history between them—for Ekko not to see those ugly parts so explicitly.

It was hard for her to imagine Ekko could see anything but, when most of the time, that was all she saw of herself.

Ekko’s mouth moved to speak, but Jinx drunkenly halted him. She pressed her hands to his forearms, thumbs tracing at the cool, thick blazer. “Is that why you like me so much…why you stick around.” She sucked in a cheek. “’Cause I’m somethin’ to save.”

Finally, he looked at her. Confusion etched his features. Something else, too. Something like concern.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, voice stern. “You know how to take care of yourself.”

Ekko’s gaze softened at her words, but there was an undeniable tension in the clench of his jaw.

“You think that’s all this is?” His voice was quiet, but firm. It cut through the heavy, lavender air, drawing her in. “You think I stick around because I feel like I have to?”

Jinx’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She didn’t want to admit that maybe she did. Sometimes—at her worst.

 Seraphine was proof of it—she couldn’t even handle Isha alone for one sick night. He couldn’t even go on a date…a date she hadn’t even wanted him on.

Needing him always. To herself—hers to keep, hers to have.

And here she was again—the proof in her hands—needing him to dab out the stain of her dress. The stain she’d made.

Ekko sighed. He didn’t seem fond of her silence.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, almost a whisper. His hand lifted from her hip, brushing against her jaw—tentative. “It’s not about saving you, Jinx. There’s nothing to save. It’s just…you. You’re it.”

Her breath hitched. He dropped his gaze—his hand back at her hip—retreating to his ministrations at her stomach. Dabbing, dabbing, dabbing. But Jinx didn’t care about that damn stain right now. Not anymore. Fuck that stain.

“Ekko…” his name was hardly a whisper—a broken prayer. Needy and all-encompassing and pathetically desperate in the way it slipped from her tongue; hot and familiar.

His eyes snapped to her. They were warm beneath the heat of the bathroom’s honeyed glow. But there was something else too. Something licked by flames, something stronger.

She was practically pinned between him and the cold, narrow ledge of this million-dollar sink. His hands strayed at the purple stained silk of her dress, though they’d stopped moving, pressed against her still—solid and whole. His mouth was so close—she could feel his sweet breath against her own; dry red wine; rich buttered bread. She could’ve laughed—how sinfully biblical.

“Yeah?” His lips parted—close, so close. His nose hovered near enough to hers to feel its radiating warmth, and she ached to bridge that gap. Feel it steadily against her own in the way she had a million times before.

She pressed forward, and Ekko didn’t jolt at the cold of her—no stranger to her body. No stranger to her.

But there were parts of him she still didn’t know. Parts like that pretty mouth of his—inches away; whole and full and close. And the sudden realization seemed almost like some kind of robbery—the unfairest of kinds—something stolen from her she hadn’t realized been missing ‘til now.

His cupid’s bow twitched—there was a speck of confusion in his hardened eyes. But there was something else, too. Something both foreign and familiar all at once. Something needy.

He moved to talk—she knew that face. He was going to ask her something. At least, he tried to. Jinx wouldn’t let him.

She dipped forward, mouth slanted, and pressed her thin, wine-stained lips against his.

She wasn’t expecting the shortened gasp that fled from his mouth. For a second, she was frozen there, her mouth slack against the flushness of his. Like this was a drunken test.

But then he moved. His lips chased hers, drawing her bottom lip between the both of his—he was kissing her back.

Oh, test passed. Flying colors. He tasted like sweet, rich wine. Like cold, tart apple and balsamic glaze. And underneath that, there was the undercurrent of him. That taste—that scent—that was wholly his own.

It felt like coming home in the way it did when they hugged; when they curled up together in bed. This was so achingly similar, yet still different. Just as good.

She was upset, suddenly, at the thought that she’d been missing out on it for so long. She twined her arms around his neck and dug her fingers low at the base of his scalp, wanting him closer—closest, as if making up for all the time she hadn’t.

The hand he’d had at her stained-silk stomach trailed up to the side of her face—fingers feathered and light against her cheek. The other had dropped to her waist—a fist in the fabric, pulling her closer—flush against him.

“Jinx,” he was mumbling against her mouth, slow and sweet. Then, gentler, “Powder.”

For maybe the first time in her life, Jinx didn’t care to speak. She only pressed forward, her hands trailing low—at the cool, clothed slope of his arms. The sternness of his hips. The dip of his waist.

She slipped the pads of her fingers beneath his jacket—at the hardened space between his shoulder blades—right against the cold cotton of his dress shirt. She pushed down—a magnet clicking to place when his chest pressed hers. A low, melodic moan fled his mouth and crawled into hers—she swallowed it down, whimpering back into him.

Whispered words bolted through her. “Fuck, Ekko.”

He pressed impossibly closer—bridging every gap of space, every wisp of air. The towel he’d been holding had fallen somewhere—she heard its hollow slap against the marble floor, abandoned. His hand pried, suddenly, at the strings of her back, fingers webbed in all that thin, flimsy fabric—knotting, curling.

“Want you closer.” He mumbled the words against her mouth.

She was drowning—drowning deep and low—entirely engulfed by him. And she didn’t want to come up. Would’ve stayed down forever, if she had to. If she could. She gasped against his mouth, his tongue hardly brushing at her bottom lip when—

A knock sounded out. A thick, heaving fist against that heavy mahogany door.

Jinx and Ekko sprung apart, as if electrocuted.

Her chest rose and fell in heavy, choppy breaths, and she hardly had the time to collect herself before the door slipped open.

Vi stood at the other side of it—she looked worried; faced punched. But that concern on her face faded, very suddenly, when she took proper sight of them—confusion taking its sullen place.

“Uh—sorry—” she pursed her lips, unsure. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Ekko stammered, “no, you’re—it’s fine.”

There was a beat of silence—the room a swell of breathing and staring amongst dewy candlelight. Vi was looking between them like she was trying to figure out what the hell was going on—what the hell she’d missed.

Jinx hardly had an answer herself.

Then, as if drawn back to reality, a brutal realization dawned.

“Wha—” she stuttered. Her heart caught in her throat. “Where…where’s Isha? I thought you were watching her?”

The confusion Vi bore strained away suddenly, as if sucked down by a vacuum. She grew pale, concern reignited.

“I was but—" she drew a hand at her neck. “Cait’s college friends came to talk to me, and I got distracted. I mean—she was right there—she was just playing with that girl right next to me and then, next thing I know—“

Jinx snarled. She drew forward, heels clack, clack, clacking. Piercing. “You lost her—in this massive fuckin’ house, you lost my—"

Vi held out a defensive, waving hand.

“Powder, I’m sorry,” she said, “but she’s gotta be around, okay? She can’t have gone far. I would’ve looked for her myself but…”

Ekko came close. He held a hand at Jinx’s shoulder—some soft attempt to ground her, but she could feel his own upset boiling through. His tone was taut when he pressed, “But?”

Vi let out a sigh. “I figured she might prefer seeing the both of you. The girl she was with,” she gulped, “she said Isha was upset.”

“Upset?” Ekko snapped. She hadn’t seen him this upset in months. His face was drawn into some pointed scowl. “What the hell happened?”

Vi sighed. “I don’t know—Orianna—the girl, she wouldn’t tell.”

Jinx thought back to Jeremy, her heart tight in her chest. “Did she—was she the one who—"

“No, no—believe me,” Vi said, “she seemed heartbroken that Isha ran off.”

Jinx swallowed hard. This was unbelievable—they were hardly gone for…shit. How long had they been gone for? It wasn’t like she’d planned a spontaneous make out with Ekko.

Fuck. She’d actually made out with Ekko.

Jinx shook off the thought. This wasn’t the time.

She shoved past Vi, and already she could hear matching heavy footsteps behind her as she scoured through the halls, face set.

This was her fault.

If she hadn’t gotten so distracted, she’d have never let Isha be upset in the first place—would’ve never given her a reason to be. Would’ve protected her. But she wasn’t there, and now her…her baby was in these halls somewhere, lost on this estate, upset over something.

She plucked at the dead skin of her nails. “I’m finding her.”

“Vi,” Ekko muttered, “what’s the quietest place here?”

Vi sighed, thoughtful. “The library—oh, or the garden. The garden is right near the ballroom—"

“Then I’ll check the garden,” he said, his voice clipped but steady. “She likes quiet places. If she’s upset, she might’ve gone there.”

Jinx nodded, her chest so impossibly tight. “I’ll look through the halls near the ballroom. She can’t have gone too far—”

“Powder,” Vi started. Her voice was heavy, laced with panic. “Let me come with you, it’ll be faster if we split up and I—I’ve been here often enough to know where to—”

“I know.” Jinx had spun around. Her lips grew thin. “I know you’ve been here, Vi. I know this is your life now.”

Vi’s face flickered with hurt—something bitter and hollow, and Jinx thought back to her speech. At her words. She let out a sigh, dipping her head forward. “I know you want to help but…just go back to Cait. I’ll come back when we find her.”

“But—”

“Please,” Jinx begged. She was upset enough as it was, and she didn’t want to snap. “I’ll come back… I promise.”

With reluctance, Vi nodded. She shot Ekko a solemn look before moving away, leaving them alone in the hall with nothing but the gentle strum of distant music.

--

It took a little while, but Ekko found her in the garden.

His heart leapt when he caught sight of her—the stress he’d been carrying melted like ice under the sun.

She was sitting on a bench of wood—the back of it etched with curling, bent metal—and her knees tucked up close to her chest—like she could hold herself together if she held hard enough.

Spherical lamps leaked orange-gold across the pathway of stone, bordered by beds of flowers and tall, green hedge walls. The night was blue, despite the auburn drips of lamplight, and when Ekko approached her, Isha didn’t even realize.

Ekko wanted to lift her in his arms—crush her in a hug, shelter her from all that’d done her wrong. But he couldn’t—not quite yet.

He moved to sit, and she flinched, her head ducking out from beneath her hands. She poked out an eye—it widened at the notice of him—then she folded back into herself, avoidant.

“Hey, Bunny,” he said softly, his voice calm but edged with worry. “Been looking all over for you.”

For a while, she signed nothing—did nothing. Then suddenly, her hands flew outright, hard and sharp as they signed, don’t call me that.

His brows raised. She looked more angry than she did sad, but Ekko knew better; knew well enough what was masked under all that bite.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Well, whatever name you want me to call you, I don’t care. I’m not leaving ‘til you tell me what’s going on.”

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t respond.

Ekko took the silence to his advantage. He plucked his phone out to text Jinx.

Found her. In the gardens. First turn at the right.

He hardly had time to shut his phone before a reply came.

Jinx, now: oh thank god

Jinx, now: is she ok?

Jinx, now: never mind that, im coming

Jinx, now: don’t go anywhere

Ekko hadn’t planned on it. He sent a quick reply and shoved his phone back into the pocket of his pants.

Isha was still huddled into herself, but she’d peeled out both eyes now, her temple resting on her forearm as she watched Ekko with a hard, bitter look.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she’d been crying. But there were no more traces of tears.

Ekko reached out to brush a hand at the skin of her cheek he could still reach, and Isha flinched at the touch, though she didn’t pull away.

“Come on,” he whispered, “talk to me. I only wanna help.”

With reluctance, Isha moved her hands.

It’s stupid.

Ekko frowned. “I highly doubt that.”

She looked away from him, her gaze distant and bitter. I shouldn’t even be mad.

“What?” Ekko murmured. “Why not?”

Because, Isha started, slowly, it’s the truth.

Ekko gulped. He needed her to explain. Properly.

“Isha.” He tucked himself closer—just a little, and placed a hand at her back. Again, she flinched but didn’t pull. “I don’t understand, I wasn’t there. You gotta explain it to me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, just for a little, before pressing against the curls of metal at the backrest, Ekko’s hand lodged between the coils and her back.

I heard…them. Saying stuff.

“Okay,” Ekko droned, “who?”

Parents.

“Orianna’s?”

Isha shook her head no.

Ekko thought for a while, mouth curling, until it suddenly clicked. “You mean Cait’s? Cait’s parents?”

Isha nodded, her face suddenly somber. Yes.

Fuck. Ekko knew that alone was bad, and he hadn’t even heard what the words were yet.

“What did they say?” he pried. His voice came too hard—heated and angry and already too defensive. He needed to stay calm; needed to comfort.

Said I’ll have to go soon…leave you. Her face was pinched with irritation, but there was a sombreness there too—a sadness. That you’re too young. Not enough.

Ekko’s heart fell into his stomach, heavy and suddenly cold. The palms of his hands grew sweaty, and he swore he saw beads of blackened red in his vision, threatening to swallow him whole.

Who the hell did those rich assholes think they were—saying that nonsense—they didn’t know them.

It’s true, though. Isha was blinking too fast in the way that meant she was trying not to cry. I’m not meant to stay.

Ekko stammered.

She wasn’t. Not really. But life without her—without her and Jinx and this family they’d built—that’d become unimaginable. Impossible.

Especially now….with what he and Jinx had just done. The kiss—that perfect, wanting kiss—alone was an act of confession—one words couldn’t pull from him. And he knew what that meant. Knew that him and Jinx could now never be the same. And he wanted that—craved it.

What could he even say? He couldn’t say no—that she wouldn’t leave—because maybe she might.

But…maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe, if Jinx wanted it…

He thought back to Cait—to the adoption she thought he’d implied, all the way back in that early November. Maybe she’d been right all this time.

“Isha,” Ekko started. The hand he kept at her back was drawing circles—some pathetic, desperate effort of comforting her. “That’s not—they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

She was looking at him hard—those usually curious eyes gone doubtful.

“We meant it earlier—you’re our family.”

Isha scoffed in a way so like Jinx he could’ve laughed, had the circumstances been different. She signed, her movements jerky and upset, but not forever.

Ekko gulped. No, that couldn’t be right. Family was forever. But the system had proved Isha otherwise one too many times, and Ekko knew well enough the feeling.

He wanted to explain—wanted to let her know that wasn’t the case. That he wanted forever, too—but the sound of heel against stone pierced through the night.

Cicadas hummed in the distance, along with Jinx’s quick, frantic breaths.

She came, kneeling before Isha with her mascara too smeared, her eyes too wide and too worried. Her hair was coming undone—a spillage blue framing her cheeks, her jaw, her shoulders.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “Isha—the fuck happened?”

Isha recoiled at her touch, curling closer to Ekko in a way that made Jinx suddenly squint. Her breathing was growing heavier, like she was going to cry, and Jinx’s presence would only make those tears come easier.

Jinx turned her attention to Ekko, eyes scanning his own for something—some explanation.

“Hello?” She shot. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”

Ekko let out a breath. This wouldn’t be pretty.

“Isha overheard Cait’s parents.” Already, Jinx’s body twitched in a way that drew immediate concern.

Her voice was almost too soft when she asked, “Wha—what’d they say?”

“That we’re too young to…keep her. That she’s going to leave eventually.”

The words said aloud must’ve done something—must’ve made it worse, real—because Isha recoiled, as if trying to shield herself from them—from her own self.

Ekko was already reaching for her when he caught sight of Jinx’s face. Her eyes had gone to a place he knew wasn’t good, already tethering on something worse.

Ekko pried—slipping his hand from Isha’s back to Jinx’s arms. “Hey,” he mumbled, “don’t—“

A muffled sob from Isha came, and Jinx and Ekko both snapped to life.

That disheveled look on Jinx’s face dissipated, replaced instead by some high sense of alert.

She reached for Isha, shoving her close, tucked beneath her chin. For a little, Isha stiffened, fists weakly fighting at Jinx’s chest.

“Stop,” she was murmuring, voice tense. “Baby, stop—quit bein’ like that. I got you.”

It wasn’t only the word that softened Isha—Ekko knew that much. It was the way Jinx said it, like it had always been the truth. Like it wasn’t even something she’d decided, but something that had always been there, waiting for her to realize.

With Isha in her arms, Jinx stood. Her jaw was clenched tight, eyes focused. “We’re leaving.”

Ekko gulped. “Powder, wait. You know Vi—”

“Ekko, we’re leaving.” Her eyes glowed beneath the dim shadowy blues of the night—the orange leaking lamps. “Right now. I don’t care what Vi says—I sure as hell don’t care what Cait says. We’re getting out of here.”

He let out a breath.

He didn’t care to stay either. Not after what’d been said about him—his family. His girl…both his girls.

“Okay,” he gulped, coming forward. Isha was sniffling against Jinx’s shoulder, that frustration boiling over. He leaned down to press a kiss at her temple. “Okay, let’s go home.”

--

The halls had grown busier.

Jinx wasn’t sure how—more people hadn’t just spawned from thin air. But it seemed as though less lingered in the ballroom. Now, they peppered out—pockets of well-dressed crowds bearing unlit cigarettes, and long, round glasses of wine.

Jinx hardly paid them any mind.

She was an arrow, soaring through the crowd—Ekko close behind her, with Isha clutching to his hand as they barrelled their way out.

The halls were so long—too long, and Jinx suddenly wished they’d left through the garden—crept out beneath the hedges, where no one could spot them.

Finally, after what felt like hours of squirming her way through silky, perfumed hordes, she spotted those heavy arched doors that lead to the front of the house, where the valet would fish out their car—a rust bucket amongst a sea of wealth—and get them home.

Jinx sped up—two butlers seemed to groan to life, as if on cue, heaving open both doors and sending a gust of wind through the house, as Jinx made for her escape down that stone pathway.

It was brighter out here than it’d been in the garden—all those lanterns blooming with a dewy orange light, pouring out onto the stone like waves of rippling water. Hills of shadowed vineyard stretched out in the distance, with stars hovering overhead.

Her mind was so pent up—those thoughts swarming, crawling with that threat of spilling over—that she hadn’t noticed Vi following them out. Not until she spoke.

“Powder! Oh, thank God,” she gasped. Vi let out a long breath, like she’d only now remembered how to breathe. “You found her! Is she okay?”

She didn’t know if Ekko stopped to linger, to answer—she couldn’t hear his footsteps so closely anymore—but Jinx kept moving. The pathway was long, and she was still nearer to that looming mansion than the gravel road.

“Powder—” That was Vi again. She sounded closer—too close. She was chasing her. “Powder, hold on! Where are you going—what happened?”

A hand brushed her elbow, and Jinx flinched hard, recoiling. She stepped back, her heel caught in the crevices of stone, and nearly stumbled.

She faced Vi, finally, and her breathing stammered at the sullen look on her sister’s face—every feature etched with confusion, burden.

“What happened—you want to know what happened?” Her voice was taut and raw—loaded with all that pent up anger. It was boiling, brimming the rim, and Jinx knew this time there was no holding back. “What happened is your fucking in-laws!”

Ekko and Isha approached, now, Isha scooped in Ekko’s arms—when had he picked her up? She had her arms looped at his neck, and they wore matching expressions. When had they started to look so alike?

Vi shook her head, hands up with caution, like Jinx was a feral animal, daring to pounce. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Isha overheard them,” Jinx spat. “When you let her slip away. She heard them talking about her—her impermanence in our home. That Ekko and I are too young—not suited for her.”

Vi’s face fell. She stepped back, as if pushed, and even from a distance Jinx could hear the gulp she swallowed down. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbled. “I’m—I’m sorry, Powder. I didn’t think—"

“What’s going on?”

That accent pierced through the night like glass vase against marble—shattering any semblance of hope. Jinx’s neck twitched to where Cait was wandering down from the arched doors of her parents’ home, arms at her chest.

She’d taken off the blazer, left now in her sleeveless linen vest, and the flats she wore padded amongst the stone with practiced, knowing steps. Not once did she stumble on uneven stone, on deepened crevice.

Vi took one look at her and crumbled, desperation seeping through. She was looking between Jinx and Cait with an uneven look, like she knew what was bound to come.

Jinx knew too. She wanted it. Wanted to lash out.

Her jaw tightened with each step Cait drew forward, the veins at her neck twitching.

“Love,” Vi started, voice too soft, “maybe you should step inside for a little—"

Jinx groaned—a pathetic, scornful laugh fled her throat. “Of course—protecting her! Always protecting her.”

Vi shot a look back at Jinx. The wind was growing stronger, and Vi’s bang sweep brushed at her eyes. “No—no, it’s not like that,” she stammered. “Powder, please just come back inside, okay? We can talk this out properly—"

“Oh no. No.” Jinx shook her head, the words a bitter laugh from the deepest parts of her chest. Inside? Jinx would never go there again, let alone subject Ekko and Isha to that judgement, ever agin. “We’re leaving.”  

A hand brushed her shoulder, warm and familiar. It was Ekko. Isha was a little further back, standing on the clean patches of lawn that adjoined the pathway—he must’ve told her to keep her distance for this one.

He wore a face of empathy, and Jinx pressed into the touch with a need so plentiful she could’ve cried.

Vi’s words came out shaky. “What?”

“You heard me,” Jinx slurred. “We’re going home—I can’t—I’m not letting them stay here. Not after what was just said by our own—our own extended family.”

Jinx hated referring to them as that, but it was what they were.

Cait looked confused—her face pinched in that way that made Jinx want to reach out and smack her. If Ekko wasn’t holding her back, she just might’ve.

Vi was trying, though. Trying hard. “Powder, please. You’re my sister, I lo—”

Jinx didn’t care to hear it. Vi had made her decision, and Jinx would make hers too.

“We don’t belong here.” Jinx came one step closer; heels unsteady on the stone. “And not too long ago, Vi, you wouldn’t have belonged here either. And if he was here, Vander would’ve never let this slide.”

Vi huffed—her face split from an empathetic sullenness to something nasty, offended. “You think I wanted this—all this circus crap?!”

It was Cait’s turn to step back now, her arms tightening at her chest. That drained look she wore only grew deeper. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vi’s jaw strained. “Cait, I love you. But you know how I feel about this—"

Cait scoffed. “And you know this was the only way for my parents to get off my back for manhandling our actual wedding. You think it’s so easy for me, too?”

The air between them felt suffocating, despite the open expanse of the vineyard hills and the cold night pressing against their skin. Jinx’s hands curled into fists at her sides as her sister and Caitlyn’s voices clashed. Every word grated against her nerves, every sound digging deeper into the fury simmering just beneath her skin.

Vi suddenly shot Jinx an empathetic look, her voice retreating to an aching softness. “Look, Jinx, please.” She pursed her lips, as if to hold herself together. “It’s been—this whole thing has been hard, okay? For me. For Cait—”

Jinx sneered. “Oh, please! Like she doesn’t feel the same way about me that her parents do!”

She stepped closer, desperate suddenly to lunge at something—anything—when Ekko reached for her waist, keeping her to him.

“Okay, please,” he gulped. “Let’s just cool it.”

Cait looked past Jinx, past Ekko. Jinx knew who she was looking at, because her face softened in that way it never did with her. Finally, she looked back at Jinx, eyes hardening. “Jinx, I’m not doing this again—not in front of Isha.”

Oh, of course. What a cop out. Making her look bad—like she’s the villain for wanting to defend her own kid.

“Right, because you’re so mature,” Jinx screeched. “So noble. Like your parents didn’t call my kid disposable—didn’t imply we’re unfit—right where she could hear it!”

Cait gasped. Her brows furrowed. “…She heard that?”

Ekko spoke before Jinx could reply. His voice grew suddenly angry, and his grip on her waist only tightened, as if he, too, sought her out for grounding. “You were there?”

“Of course she was,” Jinx mocked. “Probably spurred them on, too, didn’t ya?”

Cait shook her head. “No—"

Ekko’s eyes squinted, as if in disbelief. But Jinx knew. Jinx always knew. “Cait…seriously?’

“It wasn’t like that—"

Ekko wouldn’t let her get a damn word in, and Jinx was grateful for it. “You let your parents talk all that shit about us—about our kid?”

“No!” Her face had grown red. “I defended you!”

It was Ekko’s turn to scoff. He kept Jinx close, and Jinx could feel the shake of his grip against the silk of her dress. “Oh, did you?”

“Yes! Of course I defended you!” Cait shot. “You think I have some kind of vendetta but—but do you really think I would’ve helped you with the process if I genuinely believed that Jinx would be so awful of a mot—"

She stopped suddenly, a hand clasping over her mouth.

The silence was deafening. For a little, all Jinx could make out was the hum of cicadas, the drum of her own heart, the distant chatter of music and party goers. Ekko’s grip on her waist had gone slack, feather-light. Jinx missed the pressure.

Helped with the process…what process? Had Jinx fully lost her mind? Maybe she had—she didn’t understand what that meant; couldn’t place the implication.

After a little, Vi was the first to break the silence. “…Cait, what does that mean?”

Ekko’s eyes had turned to flying saucers—brown and frightened. She pried for his hands, lacing he fingers with his, as if aching to urge him back to life.

Her voice was soft when she breathed, “Ekko?”

Across from her, Vi wasn’t letting up. “Cait,” she repeated. “What does that mean?”

Cait and Ekko were looking at each other in a way Jinx just couldn’t understand—guilt, and knowing and doubt.

“I—” Cait stammered. Jinx had never heard her voice so unsteady, so uncertain. “I…helped Ekko. In November, to quicken the fostering process. So that Isha could be placed with Jinx and Ekko sooner.”

Jinx twitched.

No.

That couldn’t be right.

They were playin’ tricks on her. Right?

 Ekko wouldn’t…he wouldn’t go behind her back like that…he trusted her enough. Jinx looked at him, desperate for him to explain. To call Cait out for the liar she was, to spit back.

But nothing came.

He was looking at her with wild eyes, his hands brushing the skin of her arms, tentative and gentle.

“Jinx, listen I’m sorry for not telling you—I am—but it was the only way for Isha to be with us as soon as possible—”

“You—” she flinched at his touch, stepping back. “You went behind my back?” Jinx’s voice came out shakier than she’d wanted—vulnerable and hurt and small—so pathetically small.

When the leakage came, there was nothing Jinx could do to stop it.

That voice inside droned out, clear as day. He doesn’t trust you.

“Powder, please. Just hear me out—”

“You…with Cait?”

Her vision grew suddenly blurry—red with anger, wet with the tears that threatened to come.

The voice came again, louder this time. You would’ve jinxed it.

“No,” she was whispering. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “No, that’s not true—”

“Powder?” Ekko’s voice broke through, low and careful, but it sounded distant, muffled beneath the roar building in her head. He was reaching for her, but Jinx wouldn’t let him.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, stepping further back. Her heel caught on the uneven stone, and she nearly stumbled, catching herself on shaky legs. Her chest was heaving, her breaths too short and sharp to fill her lungs. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Powder, stop,” Vi tried, stepping toward her, but Jinx raised a hand, palm out, silencing her.

“I just wanted her with us,” Ekko said, his voice desperate, anguish etched in his face. He reached for her one more time, hesitant, his hand hovering just inches from her arm. “You know that, Jinx. I wasn’t trying to go behind your back. I was trying to make it right. For us. For her.”

“For us?” Jinx’s voice cracked, sharp and venomous. “You think going to Cait—Cait!—was for us? You think making decisions without me was for us?”

“Jinx, it wasn’t like that—”

“Then what was it like?” she snapped, her voice rising, trembling with the weight of it all. First, Vi. Now him, too. “What, Ekko? Because right now, all I see is you not trusting me enough to—thinking I would’ve messed it up if—”

“I do trust you,” he cut in, his voice louder now, firmer. “I’ve always trusted you. This wasn’t about trust, Jinx, it was about timing. I didn’t want to risk losing her—losing the chance to have her with us.”

“You should’ve told me!” she yelled, her voice breaking as her fists clenched at her sides. “You should’ve—”

There was a sudden whine. Jinx would recognize that noise anywhere, now—it’d grown intertwined, sewn to her.

She turned her head. Isha was looking between them with wild, cautious eyes. She was nearer, and her hands were unsteady. She settled her gaze on Jinx. There were no tears, but what was there was worse—ire, confusion, hurt. You didn’t want me to come?

Jinx’s heart tore in half.

Isha moved her hands again, shakier. To live with you?

Jinx’s throat tightened, the lump rising too fast, too hard.

“No,” she said quickly, dropping to her knees by Isha on the stone. Her voice came too loud, too frantic. “No, no—that’s not it at all.”

She reached for Isha, but the girl squired away, as if Jinx’s touch might burn.

No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was meant to go—they were just supposed to leave. They were just meant to go home.

The voice cackled. Look at what you’ve done.

“Isha,” Ekko had lowered himself, too, now. He crouched, and to him, Isha clung. “No, that’s not what we’re saying. We wanted you—both of us—”

Isha couldn’t seem to hear it, she let out a bitter groan, looking at them both with a sudden gaze of betrayal. Her hands opened and closed at the feel of Ekko’s jacket, as if doubtful of wanting his comfort or not.

Jinx tried again, desperate. She reached out, trying to brush at Isha’s hair, “baby, please—”

Still, Isha wasn’t listening. Her hands moved. Then why fight? Unless—unless—

Ekko acted instantly, scooping her up in his arms. Isha didn’t resist, but she kept her arms limp at her sides. She curled in on herself, her face buried in his blazer as she shook silently.

“Bunny,” Ekko murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles, his eyes glancing at Jinx with a mixture of guilt and helplessness. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Jinx stood frozen, her hands hanging uselessly at her sides. The words she wanted to say tangled in her throat, strangled by the weight of Isha’s reaction.

Her mind was a whirlwind inside. The voices had subsided—only for now, at the urgency of Isha—but Jinx knew they’d be back. Worse.

Ekko turned to her, his voice low and steady, though his expression was anything but. “We’re going home,” he said firmly.

Jinx blinked, her lips parting like she wanted to argue, but the look in Ekko’s eyes silenced her. He wasn’t asking. He was deciding.

He shifted Isha’s weight in his arms, pressing her closer as he turned away from the house. The gravel crunched under his feet as he started toward the driveway.

Jinx followed after a beat, her heels wobbling on the uneven stones. She glanced back once, her gaze catching Vi and Cait’s bewildered expressions framed by the warm glow of the estate’s lights.

Vi was moving as if wanting to come closer—wanting to say something—but she seemed to settle on nothing. Neither of them said a word.

Above, the moon was a wound in the sky, leaking silver.

Chapter Text

There was a click.

Click —the noise pierced through nothing. Through silence.

Silence. Oh. It’d gone silent. When had it gone silent?

Jinx strained her ears, searching for it—that voice .

It’d been there all night. Lurching for her in sleep. Through nightmares. Prodding, knocking, prying, sneering at her. Wanting more, always more, never enough.

She strained again, waiting for the drone of it. Waiting to be jeered, mocked. She twitched on the mattress, bracing herself. But nothing came.  

Only footsteps. Patter, patter, pattering.  

She stirred but didn’t wake; not for real. The duvet around her was wet and damp from sweat, and she curled her fingers hard into the bend of it—making a fist—until she could feel her nails straight through, digging at her palms.  

A tiny thud sounded out.

Then something warm. Fingers at her scalp. Lips at her temple; gentle, familiar, lingering. She soaked it up, showered in it, though something inside—something not yet wholly roused—was telling her not to.  

Footsteps again. They were only growing distant.

Click .

--  

Jinx blinked to life.

A white slip of light leaked in through the curtains of her bedroom, turning everything gray. Shadows pressed at each corner, from wall to ceiling, stiff and looming.  

She scanned the room. Her head felt too heavy, like she’d swallowed lead.  

A mug of something rich and nutty—its handle chipped and pink—was steaming, curling smoke, perched atop a pile of books at her bedside table. Coffee?  

Jinx stared hard. The mug stared back.  

Would it have a voice, too?

“Whaddaya want?” She mumbled.  

The mug said nothing. Idiot.  

Jinx closed her eyes. She didn’t care to talk, either.  

--

Click .  

Something vibrated. Only later did she realize the vibration was her own—a groan that’d fled her throat.  

Her eyes opened—the pace of a sloth.  

She had her back to the door, this time. Must’ve turned over in her sleep. The duvet that coiled around her was tight, tight, tight—suffocating.  

She hardly moved.  

A pale, skinny finger pressed at the flaked paint of her wall. There was a crevice there—something hewed. She scuffed her nail against a layer of old, pink paint. What an ugly color for a wall. Too happy. Whoever lived here before her must’ve been too happy.  

More footsteps. Another thud. The smell of fried, fatty bacon wafted, and it only made Jinx sick.  

She mumbled something low and throaty into her pillow.

A voice sounded out. Not that voice. No, this voice she knew. Craved. Loved.

“What—what was that?” It asked, so soft. Concern was etched in each word, each syllable, each letter.  

She ached to hear it again. But that thing inside her was still there, begging her not to give in. Angry, it was. Why was she angry?

She couldn’t remember the reason. But the feeling was whole and sure.

There was a slap. Her palm had smacked the wall—it stung the dry, calloused skin. She gulped hard, swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise.  

“Take it back !” She barked. Her words came out slurred and sharp all at once. “Can’t—can’t take the fuckin’ smell,” she was stammering.

“Jinx. Please , you have to eat—”  

“Take it back. Take it back.” Her throat felt raw. Was she screaming it or whispering? She didn’t know. “Take it back !”

There was the rustle of movement. Doubtful, lingering. Then footsteps.  

Click .  

The smell was gone. Most of it.  

She could still catch hints of grease, of fried egg.

She dug her nose into her pillow, breathing in shampoo and detergent.

Better.

Her eyes flickered shut. Sleep came back for her, and she burrowed into it with ease.  

--

Click .  

Patter, patter.

Her eyes fluttered open. The light inside was warmer, less white, more auburn.  

She was facing the door, but her eyes strayed low. She caught a glimpse of pant leg and a pair of socks. Those shadowed corners where wall met ceiling had grown dimmer, now, too.  

What time was it? Tick, tick, tick.  

Jinx didn’t know. Time moved so fast. So slow. All at once.  

The smell of food struck her senses again. She minded it less this time—something earthy; something herby.  

A bowl was planted on that same pile of books. A spoon perched inside. Soup.  

A hand met her cheek, and Jinx chased the touch, though she knew she shouldn’t. Wasn’t supposed to. Was supposed to be mad. Was mad. But she was tired, too. And that trumped everything else, didn’t it? Exhaustion, fatigue.

Patter, patter. More footsteps. Lighter, this time.

They came to a halt. Jinx couldn’t see anything that stretched past her dresser. Couldn’t see the threshold.

The hand at her face was lifted, and the warmth that’d engulfed her slipped away with it. “Isha—”  

Jinx stirred at the name. Her arms stretched out weakly, seeking. All she met was the cool fabric of sheets, the empty air by her bed.  

She let out a rasping whine.

“Shh.” That hand came back. Jinx pressed into it. Jinx loved this voice. Loved this touch. “It’s okay…”  

Silence sliced through everything again, and she relished in it.

“Isha, I told you not to come here—”

Jinx stirred again, aching to brave through the fog of her mind—to reach proper consciousness. Something deep inside was screaming. Screaming. But she couldn’t reach it.  

Exhaustion trumped everything.

“Go back to the living room,” that sweet voice said. It wasn’t so sweet right now. More… determined . Stern. “Everything’s okay.”

There was the distant rustle of something . Jinx didn’t know what it was. Couldn’t tell. She ached to crane her neck but felt paralyzed by the weight of her own body.

Instead, she stared aimlessly at the dip of sweatpants before her, at the thick, red socks that grazed the hardwood of her bedroom.  

“She’s just tired.” A thumb was stroking her cheekbone. “She’ll be okay—just…please, go. I’ll be there soon.”  

More rustling.  

That voice. “Yeah, Bunny, I promise.”  

Patter, patter.  

Something in Jinx screamed louder.

“Hey,” the sweet voice pled. “Please eat.”

She couldn’t. She wasn’t hungry. She was tired. And exhaustion trumped everything.

“Can’t.”

“I’ll help you, please—”

So persistent. So stubborn, for such a sweet thing.  

“No,” she insisted. She could be stubborn, too.  

The hand pulled back. It knew better than to push.

“Okay.” It didn’t sound okay . Sounded sad. Upset.

Jinx whimpered at the loss of touch, but didn’t reach back.  

She nestled back into her sweaty blankets.  

Exhaustion trumped everything.  

--  

On Thursday morning, Ekko beat his alarm by an hour.

He stretched to life, an arm reaching out across the mattress, seeking something cold; the body he’d grown accustomed to curling around. His fingers ached within the nothingness, yearning for that familiar press of Jinx against him. Those arms at his waist, those legs knotted with his own.  

He blinked, lashes fanning low. Dawn bloomed outside, its early morning hues of orange-gold crept in through the drapes, turning everything warm.  

Ekko dragged a hand across his cheek. He wished sleep had kept him under just a little longer. He’d been dreaming—that same dream he’d been swimming in all week.

Somewhere deep inside, he could still feel the dip of Jinx’s mouth on his. Her tongue threatening to slip between his lips, the curl of her arms between his shoulder blades, heaving him closer, closer, closer. Never close enough.  

He fisted the thin cotton of his sheets and wished he’d still been tugging at the strings of Jinx’s dress. Undoing, unlacing. Slipping his fingers between the gaps, tugging them open.  

But there were no more strings. And his reality was an ugly one; Jinx had hardly looked at him since.

The drive home that night was rough.

Isha’s sobs had hollowed out eventually, thawing into pitiful sniffles before she inevitably fell asleep. Jinx spent the whole ride shooting glances over at her, twitching, like Isha would disappear—like she’d slip out of her seat and into open field.

Ekko had reached for her hand, but she’d shoved him away.  

“Don’t,” she hissed. Her eyes were wild, mascara smeared. “Don’t—I don’t—you’re not—”

What he wasn’t, he’d never know. She never finished, her heaving breaths erupting through the car—shaky, uneven.

She didn’t want his touch, and for that he’d never pry. But he’d still spoken the whole ride through—that whole hour-and-a-half—broken, choppy words that bowed amidst the cusp of apologetic and reassuring.  

“I’m sorry,” he’d mumbled, words desperate. “I’m sorry—I did it for her . For the sake of her. I should’ve told you, I’m sorry, Jinx. I’m so sorry.”  

Nothing worked—he knew nothing would work. But still, he had to try.

As expected, Jinx had slept in her own bed that night. The look in her eyes was vacant when he passed her in the hallway. He didn’t bother asking her to join him.

Ekko was no idiot. He knew her—knew her better than he’d ever known anyone—a second skin, she was, a second heart, beating out of his own body—still tethered to him. And he knew what was coming.

An episode.

He just had no way of knowing how long it’d last. They were never predictable. Her episodes stretched from hours, to days, to weeks, at their worst.

Ekko had only prayed that this one wouldn’t slip so far—take her somewhere where he really couldn’t reach.

That Sunday, he brought her food, coffee, water. She touched nothing, despite his attempts at coaxing. Her room smelled of musk and Saturday’s perfume—smelled of old metal tools and wine-stained silk.  

Over breakfast, he’d warned Isha to stay in her room, in the living room, in the kitchen. She woke that Sunday looking groggy—her eyes still puffy from all the sobbing. Lepus sat in her lap, the only comfort she seemed to accept.  

Isha kept shooting glances at the empty seat next to her—Jinx’s usual spot. She hardly touched her cereal.  

“Jinx is sick,” Ekko’d said, though Isha hadn’t asked. At least, not with words.

She’d said nothing. Motioned for nothing. Later—suddenly—she dropped her spoon into the cereal bowl, the milk spluttering out onto the table. Ekko had flinched, not expecting the outburst.

“ Isha ,” he’d scolded, reaching for a napkin to wipe the puddles away. “What’d you do that for?”  

She’d only glared, and Ekko let her be. She’d had a hard night, and she seemed to want little to do with him—even less to do with Jinx.  

She’d stayed glued to the couch—hardly looking at him—prodding angrily at her blocky iPad, Lepus curled under an arm.  

She was passive—would say nothing when spoken to—wasn’t doing what she’d been told. But Ekko knew she was hurting—that all of this came from hurt. Because when he’d stumbled into Jinx’s room that late afternoon—a bowl of soup in his hands—Isha followed.

She’d stood frozen at the doorway, her eyes set on Jinx—Jinx, who was curled into herself on the mattress, staring blankly out before her, blinking in slow, tedious intervals. Her hair was still in that bun from the night before, though half of it had come undone, fanning out at the pillow like feathered pieces of dull, blooming blue.

He told her to leave—knew that Jinx had never wanted Isha to see her like this. Then he pressed a hand to Jinx’s cheek—the skin worryingly cold—and Jinx had pressed back, the movement instinctive.

At the threshold, Isha tried to keep her demeanor unyielding—though her bottom lip gave her away, quivering. She clutched at Lepus in her hands, fingers fidgeting, before slotting the bunny under her arm so she could sign. What’s wrong with her?

It was the only thing she’d said that day.

“She’s just tired,” he’d said. What else could he say? How could he explain to Isha that the woman she idolized—the woman Isha believed was orbited by the sun—sometimes grew too burdened by the parts of herself she hated most.  

By Monday, he’d called out of work on Jinx’s behalf—sick leave. Ekko called out of the hospital, too, knowing he couldn’t leave her alone for too long. Not like this.

He drove Isha to school while Jinx slept. Isha didn’t bother looking at him—her eyes glued to the city whooshing past through the window.

Later that day, Jinx started to eat again, and for that Ekko was grateful. Though she’d grown alert enough to avoid him—to remember her anger. She rejected the comfort he offered, and he didn’t press.

By Tuesday, she got out of bed.

It was early evening, the sun a low, pretty thing in the sky. She stumbled into the living room while Ekko was washing the dishes, Isha cocooned on the couch with the homework she was pretending to do.  

She looked like a shell of herself. Dreary, paler than ever. Her hair was still in that half-undone bun—the same pair of pyjamas from Sunday hung loosely from her figure, as if swallowing her.

Still, Ekko sighed his relief. If she was up—able to walk on her own—the worst of it was over.

He’d wandered into living room, hands outstretched as if to hold her. “Jinx, hey—"

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge a word.

Instead, her gaze was set on Isha, who blinked right back. They wore matching expressions of distress, though Isha’s was more hardened—angry where Jinx’s was vulnerable.

Jinx opened her mouth to speak—those dry, cracked lips parting as she whispered, “Baby—"

Isha bolted up—blanket still twined around her—and shoved past Jinx, running straight for her room. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound piercing through the silence of their apartment.

Jinx stood, suddenly aimless, her jaw clenched. Ekko drew closer.

“Jinx, you gotta give her time—"

But Jinx didn’t hear it. She turned, movements sluggish—face empty—and made her way to the bathroom, the door shutting with a piercing, empty click.

Ekko swallowed the lump in his throat. It’d only been days, but he felt the withdrawal of her

like a blow to the chest—hard and sudden and raw. He’d never had her so close—lips and all, right where he never knew he needed her—only for them to plunge apart, farther than they’d ever been.  

It felt like the universe was laughing at him, jeering. How close he’d been to having it all—all the things he hadn’t realized he wanted, needed, ‘til he came close enough to brush it. Only then to lose it all at once—water in his hands, leaking through open fingers.  

Wednesday—yesterday—was no better.

Jinx tried to join them for breakfast but opted to eat in her room at the realization that Isha wouldn’t offer her even one mere glance, let alone a word.  

She’d seemed even less inclined to stay when Ekko approached, his heart hammering, desperate to speak with her.  

It felt like some silly game of cat and mouse, some pathetic little goose chase; Isha mad at Jinx who was mad at Ekko. No one willing to engage in proper conversation.

Ekko had tried with Isha that Wednesday morning. On the way to school, in the car, there was nowhere she could run—no bedroom where she could seek refuge, no iPad to drown out his questions.

“Bunny,” he’d started—softly, delicately. “You know—what you heard at the party—"

Immediately, Isha had tried to avoid him. From the rearview, he’d watched as she curled toward the window, rain drumming at the scratched glass of the Subaru.

“I know it was hard—to have to hear all that,” he said, “but you need to understand that it has nothing to do with whether or not we wanted you— still want you.”

Isha had scoffed, again so much like Jinx, and Ekko only pressed forward.

“I just—” he’s stammered. “Jinx was never mad about you—she isn’t mad about you. Right now, she’s only mad at me. Because… I messed up. I lied about… something.”

Isha had finally looked at him—her face tight and eyes narrowed. Her hands moved jerkily when she signed, me.

“No—no,” he’d stammered. “I didn’t lie about you —I lied about a… situation.” That, yes, had to do with Isha. But she wasn’t the issue. God, why was it so hard to explain? “But it’s not about you, Bunny, I swear it.”

She didn’t believe him—that was obvious enough from the way she got out of the car a little later, the door rattling behind her, sounding out.

By Wednesday, they still hadn’t eaten dinner together. Isha ate first, then Ekko, then Jinx much later. Ekko caught quiet glances of her while he got Isha ready for bed, picking bleakly at the spaghetti on her dish with a lazy fork.  

That night, he’d tried again. Isha hadn’t wanted him—hadn’t wanted anyone —to tuck her in all week. Still, Ekko made sure she was dressed, that she’d brushed her teeth, that her homework was finished.

He stood at the threshold of her room while Isha sat at the edge of her bed, fiddling with Lepus’ ear.

“You can’t avoid her forever.”

Isha looked up at him, glaring. I can try, she signed, then reached over to turn off the light, dipping the room in amber-yellow from the stars Jinx had pressed to her ceiling.

When he slipped out, Jinx was already gone. Ekko contemplated knocking on her door but decided against it. She’d come to him when she was ready.

Now, Ekko stretched his limbs as he slipped out of bed.

The shower he took was quick and cold, the water lapsing down his thighs—the feel of Jinx’s lips still lingered—the taste of her sweet, wine-stained mouth.

He gulped at the memory, drawing soap to his chest. Ekko tried not to think about it.

He dressed quickly in his scrubs. With Jinx in a better state, he opted for going back to work. Jinx did, too. She’d shocked him yesterday when she fled from her room fully dressed, bag swinging from her shoulder.  

She’d tried to muster a good morning to Isha, who blinked away in response.

Now, Isha was already dressed, sitting cross-legged at the dining table. She’d made herself a bowl of cereal, though she didn’t seem too hungry.

“Morning, Bunny.”  

Isha nodded in acknowledgement, though she signed nothing. He let out a sigh and slipped into the kitchen, fetching himself a bowl.  

By the time he slipped into his seat facing Isha, she’d still hardly touched her food.

Ekko frowned. “You gotta eat more than that.”

Isha shot him a scowl, then pushed back her bowl, indignant.  

God, this was going to be another long day.

There was the rustle of footsteps down the hall. Ekko bit his lip.

There she was—Jinx—wandering over. The skin below her eyes was hollow and dark, creviced with exhaustion. From the kitchen, Ekko ached to meet her gaze, but knew he wouldn’t find it. She clutched at herself—arms tight to her chest—as if she’d fall apart otherwise.

Slowly, she drifted over to the table and planted herself down into her seat—the one next to Isha. The air grew thick, suddenly, with unpierced tension. This was the first time they’d all sat together in days.  

Isha stiffened beneath Jinx’s obvious stare.

Her braids were undone—she hadn’t kept them in for days. Instead, Isha wore her hair loose—choppy strands messily tucked behind her ears. There, beneath that heap of brown, Ekko spotted the blue he knew she’d tried so hard to cover up.

Jinx cleared her throat, leaning over.

“Hey…” The word came out throaty, croaked. “You sleep okay?”

Isha said nothing. Instead, she slipped out of her seat and wandered over to the couch, fiddling again with her iPad.  

For the first time in days, Jinx shot Ekko a look. What he found there wasn’t the softness he’d been craving—the teasing, widened eyes. No—this was hard, angry—angry in ways he’d never seen from her. At least, not at him.

“We need to take away her iPad.”

Oh, that wasn’t what he’d expected.

On the couch, Isha’s neck snapped lightning quick. Her eyes were flames in their sockets, as if she could dart lasers into Jinx’s head.

Ekko blinked. He set his spoon down into its bowl, milk spilling over. His voice was cautious when he asked, “what?”

Jinx’s voice tightened. “Her iPad,” she repeated. “It’s all she’s been doing—playing games, staring at that thing. It’s not good for her.”  

Jinx had never in her life cared for Isha’s fixation on the iPad, for the time she spent on it. Not until now.

Ekko sighed, trying to keep his tone even. “Jinx, she’s upset. She needs time.”  

“She’s avoiding us,” Jinx snapped. “Avoiding me.”  

On the couch, Isha was holding that blocky iPad to her chest, as if daring either of them to pry it away.  

Ekko stared at Jinx for a beat. His jaw clenched up. He couldn’t take the silence anymore—the avoidance. If everyone just talked about it; listened, then maybe things could be fixed.

His patience had stretched thin, nearing transparency. When the words came, he couldn’t stop them. “Wonder where she learned that from.”

“ You —” Jinx flinched, her eyes only hardening. Anger blazed through her features, pouring out. “That’s—that’s not the same and you know it.”

Ekko sighed. He shoved his bowl back now, too. He shouldn’t have said anything—now, he’d have to face the consequences.

Jinx was already following him into the kitchen—an angry, looming shadow threatening to spill over her storm.

He busied himself with the dishes while Jinx hovered close. Her breath was hot as his neck, and despite the context, Ekko still couldn’t help but relish in the feel of it. Lean in, just a little.

“Have you even tried explaining it to her?” Jinx asked, voice low. She didn’t want Isha to hear. He could see the strain of veins in her neck.

Ekko shrugged. “Explain what?”

“The truth,” she said. “The real reason I was mad—that it had nothing to do with her.”

“Obviously, Jinx!” He shot. “I’ve been the only one in this house even trying to talk . But she won’t hear a word I say…she needs to hear it from you.  

“How?” She swung her arms in the air, slapping them down onto her thighs, exasperated. “She won’t even look at me!”

“Well, like I said, communication hasn’t exactly been a strong suit in this home lately…” He trailed off. Jinx didn’t need to hear it again. She was still staring daggers at him while he swept at the inside of a mug with a dish towel.  

Eventually, with Jinx still staring at him—through him—he folded. He’d apologized the whole ride home, but given her state, he doubted that counted. He had to do it again.

“Look, Jinx. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I went to Cait without telling you. I should’ve told you.” He placed a hand down at the counter, holding his ground. “But…I don’t regret it. I regret lying—I regret not telling you—but I don’t regret what it did for us. For her.”  

Jinx stood, her mouth opening and closing as if seeking words. Seeking a response. He knew she loved Isha—she wouldn’t argue that.

Eventually, she settled for something.

“Yeah,” Jinx spat. “Well, I’ve got my own regrets.”  

The world went still. Ekko already knew what was coming.  

He stood straighter, his throat suddenly dry. “Do you?”  

“That kiss—” she looked away suddenly, her eyes glued to the tiles of the kitchen floor. “It was…. a mistake. Just a drunk, stupid mistake.”

Ekko knew better. She just wanted to hurt him. Bite back for what he’d done.

“Really?” He whispered, stepping closer, abandoning the mug in his hands. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight. “Didn’t feel like a mistake.”

Jinx froze at his words, her breath catching mid-motion. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, the air between them felt too thick to breathe. Ekko’s voice had been soft, but it carried weight—a raw, unshaken truth.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to betray her anger for something else entirely. “Don’t twist this around, Ekko.”  

“I’m not twisting anything—you’re the one trying to twist it.” He pressed even closer, craning his neck. Their faces were inches apart—her lips parting at the sudden nearness of him. “You can call it a mistake if it makes you feel better, Jinx. But I know what it meant—I know what it felt like.”

Jinx’s arms crossed over her chest as if to shield herself from him, her nails digging into the skin of her arm. She breathed into his open mouth. “You don’t know anything.”  

“Don’t I?” Ekko shot back, his voice steady but low. “You kissed me. You— you pulled me in. And I get it—you’re mad about Cait. You’re mad at me. Hell, maybe you’re even mad at yourself. And I’m sorry. But don’t try to rewrite what happened between us. Because that wasn’t nothing.”

His breath was heavy when he finished, chest heaving. She could be mad, but he wouldn’t let her shut down the truth between them. What that kiss meant.

Because ever since, the world seemed to click into place. Why it never worked with anyone else—Jinx’s jealousy—the way he couldn’t sleep properly if she wasn’t tangled with him, pressed to him. The way he could hardly breathe if she wasn’t near.

That wasn’t nothing. And she knew it, too.

He could tell from the way her face hardened; her cheeks flushed. She couldn’t prove him wrong, and she hated that.

She felt it just as much as he did.

He waited for the bite, for more of her incessant arguments. But instead, she turned her back to him, stumbling away from the kitchen, leaving him alone with the taste of her angry breath still lingering in his mouth.

  --

On Friday, Jinx worked from home.

Sunlight poured in from the open window; a muted breeze huffing through like a gasp from the sky. Pretty, puffy clouds dotted that deep, sharp blue above—the world smelled fresh, of flowers and salty ocean.  

Spring had fully bloomed, and with it came the lull of softer weather, warmer days—the luxury of basking in the air of an open window.  

With Ekko and Isha both gone, Jinx could relish in the silence of the empty apartment on her own; the clank of metal as she worked, the drone of cars that whooshed past outside.

At first, Jinx had opted for going into the office. She decided it against it after her shift, finding herself too provoked by Viktor’s relentless hovering—Heimerdinger’s cheery croon.

Besides, after an episode, Jinx relished not in silence, but in solitude.

The first few days were always hard—it felt like all that lived inside of her had bled out from her open mouth, staining all it touched—the people, the places.

Then, later, as she grew back to herself, the relief of its end was undoing.

What came with it was an emptiness—a vast void where that voice had taken all its space—a space she’d grown suddenly desperate to fill at its absence—a need to make herself useful after her own mind had deemed her just the opposite.

Her work had always been a refuge.

She poured herself into fixing, making, crafting, tweaking. The spill of music oozed from the old, tiny speaker she kept in her bedroom, forcing her to focus. It worked almost all the time.

Almost . Some things were still too consuming for even the best of her coping mechanisms to distract.

After work last night, she didn’t bother talking to Ekko again. His insistence that their kiss wasn’t a mistake made her teeth grind, made her fists clench. Who was he to tell her what felt like a mistake and what didn’t? He didn’t know —didn’t live in her head, didn’t make her decisions.  

But, as much as she hated it, she knew he was right. That was no mistake—not something to be taken back, shoved in a drawer and piled over. This was the kind of thing that persisted, too big to hide, too vital not to count.

If things had ended differently that night, then maybe she wouldn’t mind it. Maybe she’d accept it—drown in it. Let herself want it again, and again, and again. God knew she craved it. Too much for her own fuckin’ good.  

Sleeping without him was like missing a lung—like she couldn’t wholly breathe. She ached for his warmth—for the arms, the legs...the mouth she’d only recently learned she could have, wanted to have.

But what Ekko’d done—she couldn’t let herself cave. He knew. He knew —more than anyone—what Cait was to her. She was more than some irritating woman, some snobby in-law. She was a symbol of loss, of robbery—of a life she’d never know. A life that Vi would now live in without her—one too far for Jinx to ever reach. And that party only proved her right.

She hadn’t spoken to Vi since, but still she found herself shooting glances at her phone, waiting for a message that she knew would never come. After all, Jinx had left her alone at that snooty party despite the promise that she wouldn’t.

But really, what did Vi expect—what did she possibly think would fucking happen . With in-laws like those, how could anything have gone right.

She picked at a screw with her hammer, hands unsteady. She could still see Isha’s face in the back of her mind, the sobs she’d pressed into Ekko’s jacket. The words still rang in Jinx’s ears, though they’d never been spoken aloud.  

You didn’t want me to come? To live with you.

A thud sounded out amidst the loud strum of music. Fuck . Her hammer slipped. She’d slammed it onto the table. Her breathing was ragged—she hadn’t even realized how hard her breaths had gone ‘til now.

God, she didn’t even want to think of it anymore. Wanted her brain to be empty—wanted the tinkering to heal her in ways it had before. But the thoughts were too much. Vi, Ekko, Isha —Isha, who flinched at her touch, who shrunk away whenever Jinx dared come too close.

Isha, who once clung to her side like a shadow but now acted like the very sight of Jinx left her nauseous. Jinx hated how helpless it made her feel—like everything she’d worked for had crumbled to dust beneath her feet.  

She’d tried, of course. Yesterday, she’d slipped something into Isha’s lunchbox—doodles on a sticky note; drawings of Lepus, funny faces. Isha said nothing amidst her return.

Then, Jinx had tried knocking on her door to see if she wanted to watch a movie. She’d even mustered up the nerve to sit next to Isha on the couch while the girl worked on her homework alone. Because suddenly, Isha didn’t want her help. She didn’t seem to want Ekko’s, either.

Jinx wanted to talk, to explain, to tell Isha the truth—that she’d never not wanted her. That it had nothing to do with Isha—it was about Cait . About Ekko lying.

But despite her efforts, nothing worked. Isha wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t speak. Wouldn’t sign. It probably didn’t help that she’d threatened to take Isha’s iPad away—but what choice did she have? Isha clung to that thing to escape her, and Ekko didn’t even care .

Jinx hated herself for how much it stung. Hated how she could feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes at night, her heart heavy and aching. But she didn’t cry. She wouldn’t let the tears slip. Still, the way Isha had looked at her at the party…like she’d betrayed her. That was the look that haunted her.

There was a sudden ding at the table—it snapped her into reality. Her laptop had chimed to life at the corner of her desk.

She turned to find a new email in her inbox, the subject line reading, Concern Regarding Isha .

  Jinx opened it with a frown.

Dear Ms. Lane,

  I hope this email finds you well.

I’m contacting you to inform you of an incident involving Isha in class. This morning, she appeared abnormally upset and distracted. Eventually, she walked out in the middle of my lesson without another word. I attempted to speak with her afterward, but she refused to engage and seemed unusually withdrawn. While I understand Isha keeps to herself, this is hardly like her.

Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to support Isha during this time.

Best regards,

Ms. Mina

You’re fucking kidding .

Jinx slammed the laptop shut, her jaw clenching tight. Her hands shook as she pushed herself away from her desk. She settled for pacing the length of the living room, her bare feet padding at the feel of the carpet beneath her.

So that was it. Whatever Isha was feeling—whatever she refused to say—was now boiling over, spilling into places it didn’t belong. Ugh . Jinx didn’t know if she was more upset with Isha—with Ekko—or with herself.

No, it was Ekko. Definitely Ekko.

Her gaze flickered toward the coffee table. There, Isha’s iPad sat innocently, its smooth, black screen painted with the pad of tiny fingerprints.

Jinx clenched her jaw. Isha would hate her…but at least she’d talk.

Jinx grabbed it, her fingers gripping at that blocky, blue case. She opened the cabinet above their refrigerator, shoving the iPad into its furthest corner, wedging it behind a stack of Benzo’s old, dusty cookbooks.

She slammed the cabinet door shut, huffing.

Isha could have it back when she earned it—when she stopped avoiding her, stopped acting like Jinx was the enemy. She wasn’t the enemy—she hadn’t been the one to lie! If Isha only listened, then she’d know. But her kid was stubborn, maybe even more than herself.  

That afternoon, Jinx curled up on the couch with some coffee, wrapped in a blanket. The TV was on for the sake of empty noise—Jinx’s attention elsewhere.

It was nearing three thirty—they’d both be here soon. Jinx braced herself for what was coming next.

Click .

The door shoved open, and Isha was the first to bolt inside. She froze mid-step at the sight of Jinx on the couch—eyes darting as if unsure where to go—how to escape her.

For a little, they stared blankly at each other. Isha broke her gaze first, stomping to her room, choppy hair flailing behind her. Jinx caught a glimpse of that blue strand and her heart lurched in her chest. At least she hadn’t cut it out.

Ekko dropped Isha’s bag to the floor, zipping it open. He hadn’t changed out of his scrubs, and Jinx helplessly watched the strain of his muscle when he heaved out Isha’s stuff.

She gulped. What he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Eventually, he shot Jinx a look. She could hear the swallow of his throat when he said, “Hi.”  

Jinx slouched back into the cushions, pressing the rim of her worn mug to her mouth.

“Hey.” The words came dully.

Ekko dropped Isha’s things on the table—first grade workbook, purple pencil case, floppy agenda. He was looking at Jinx from the corner of his eye, and she curled her legs further on the couch, tucking into herself.

His stare made her hot all over—tense and luring, all at once—even now.

“So,” Ekko started. He was leaning on the table, shoulders slumped. “I’m swapping shifts with Seraphine tomorrow. An evening shift.” Jinx’s neck snapped to him. Her brow twitched, and she had to steady herself.

She couldn’t help it at the mention of the name. Her fist clenched tighter at the handle of her mug.

“She needed a replacement,” Ekko continued. If he noted the sudden urgency on her face, he didn’t mention it. “And I figured with all the days I missed I could use the hours.”

Jinx gulped. Right, the days he’d missed to be here, taking care of her while she avoided him.

She looked away, doing her best to pretend like she didn’t care, her tone leaking sarcasm. “Okay?”

“So,” Ekko said, still patient despite her. “You’ll have to stay with Isha.”

Oh. Shit . As if that would go well—they hadn’t been alone in days, and Isha probably hated her more than anyone on earth right now. And she hadn’t even noticed the iPad yet…

“Wha—” Jinx straightened up on the couch, dropping her mug to the coffee table. “She won’t—she won’t like that when you tell her about it.”

“I already told her,” Ekko mumbled. He wandered over to the kitchen, and Jinx watched as he poured himself a glass of water. “In the car.”

She drew a hand to the back of her neck. Hope tinged her senses, only a little. “What’d she say?”

Ekko shrugged. He came to sit next to her on the couch—though not as close as he always did—and Jinx flinched at the nearness of him. He smelled good—detergent and musky cologne and that dim, sheer layer of rubbing alcohol.  

“Nothing,” he mumbled. His eyes were apologetic, though she didn’t fully meet his gaze. “She just…looked away.”

“Oh.” Of course she did.

This was the calmest conversation she’d had with Ekko in days, and she almost felt like she needed to snap at him for something . But nothing came. At least, not from her.

The patter of footsteps stomped down the hall. Jinx craned her neck to find Isha—still dressed in her school clothes; those baggy jeans and that thick, green sweater—storming her way over.

Oh boy.

She landed in front of Jinx, arms crossed, looking straight at her with her brows fixed.

Where is it? She signed.

Jinx knew damn well what she was talking about. Nonetheless, she shrugged, playing innocent. “Where’s what?”

Isha’s hands clenched to fists before undoing themselves to sign again, her mouth wobbling with frustration, impatience.

iPad.

Jinx pressed further into the couch. She kept a forced, passive demeanour. She couldn’t crack—she was the adult.

“I put it away.” She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, never to be questioned.

Isha’s eyes widened with accusation. She was breathing harder, her button nose scrunched, as if on the cusp of some kind of meltdown. Where?

Finally, Jinx stood. She drew her hands to her hips and shrugged with false simplicity. She didn’t want to do this. But she was annoyed. Frustrated. And yes, maybe a little petty.

But that was the point. If Isha didn’t want to talk—wanted to mope around by splashing cereal milk and running out of class—Jinx would have to come to alternatives.

“Where you can’t find it,” she replied. “You’ll get it back on Sunday.”

God, that sounded foreign on her mouth. She wasn’t the type to implement rules—wasn’t the kind to follow them herself. But if Isha wanted to play this way, then Jinx could play, too—take the role of some strict, suburban mother.  

Isha started to shake all over, and Ekko pressed forward, as if reaching for her. She stumbled away, not wanting his comfort.

“Jinx,” he groaned. “Seriously, why—"  

“I got an email from her teacher,” she snapped. Ekko’s mouth closed shut. Good, served him right. “Isha ran out of class today—right in the middle of a lesson, totally unprompted.”  

At that, Isha’s anger faltered. She stepped back again, only a little, nearly falling onto the wood of their coffee table.

Ekko shot a look up at Isha, brows furrowed. “Isha—what? Why’d you do that? That’s not like you, Bunny.”

Isha’s face had grown hard again, as if she didn’t care that she’d done what she’d done. Was proud, almost. Her fingers flew in sharp, jerky movements. I wanted to leave, she signed.

“Why?” Jinx pressed, crossing her arms tighter against her chest. “What happened?”

Isha stared at her—her wide eyes suddenly gone watery—and Jinx resisted the urge to tug her close. Then her hands moved once more, stiffer this time.

Why do you care? she signed. You don’t even want me!

The words hit Jinx like a punch to the gut. She took a step forward, arms dropping to her sides, her face softening.

Fuck. She’d just made it worse.

“Isha, no. No ,” she stammered. Jinx reached forward, hands hardly brushing Isha’s shoulders. “That’s not—that’s not true at all—if you’d let me talk —”

But Isha didn’t wait for her to finish. She pulled her hands close to her chest, her face etched with nothing but anger and heartbreak. Without another word, she spun on her heels and stormed down the hall, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her.  

Jinx stood frozen, her chest heaving. The silence left in Isha’s wake was deafening, save for the faint sound of her muffled sobs filtering through the door.  

She made to follow her, but Ekko’s voice cut through, sharp and low. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Jinx stopped, turning slowly to face him. “What?”

Ekko’s expression was tight, his jaw clenched as he gestured toward the hallway. “Why didn’t you call me when her teacher emailed? Why didn’t you tell me about any of this before pulling this whole…whatever this is?”

Was he serious ? After what he’d done with Cait—gone behind her back. Just when Jinx thought they could talk again.

“Because I’m—” she stammered, not quite knowing where to take this. Eventually, she settled on, “because we’re not talking right now!”

Ekko stood from the couch—Jinx could see the tight strain of his fingers against that cold glass of water. “Real mature, Jinx. This’ll all make tomorrow way easier.”

Jinx’s blood boiled. Her fists clenched at her sides. “Oh, yeah? And how’s your little shift swap with Seraphine gonna make anything easier, huh? Leaving us alone when Isha won’t even listen to me!”

She didn’t mean to bring up Seraphine, but she couldn’t help it. The suddenness of her name had left her more bitter than she already was.

Ekko groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously?"  

“What— you’re the one acting like I’m the problem,” Jinx shot back, her voice trembling with frustration. “You think you can just swoop in and fix everything after you’ve gone behind my back, lied to me—”  

“Jinx, I told you why I did it!” Ekko’s voice rose, matching hers now. He took a step closer, his shoulders squared, his eyes blazing. “And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry that I didn’t tell you. But I’ve been here. Every single day. Trying to hold this together while you’ve been avoiding me!”  

Jinx snapped, her tone sharp, defensive, “I’m just trying to deal with this mess you helped create.”

Ekko let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Right. And you don’t think I’m trying to fix this, too? I’ve been talking to her, trying to make her feel safe—"

“And I haven’t?” Jinx cut him off, stepping closer, her chest heaving. “Say it, Ekko—tell me that I’m being so terrible? Go on, say it.”

“What!? No !” Ekko snapped, his voice breaking with frustration. “But you’re not making it any easier! Isha’s hurting, and instead of trying to help her, you’re punishing her!”

“She can’t act out at school without consequences!”

“Really?” Ekko droned. “That’s rich coming from the woman who laughed when she punched a kid in the face!”  

“That’s different !” Jinx hissed. “What do you expect me to do—just let her walk all over me?”  

“I expect you to talk to her!” Ekko’s voice was firm—his tone unyielding. “Not hide her iPad or throw down rules without explaining ‘em. She doesn’t need you to be strict right now—she just needs her mom!”

Jinx flinched at his words. Her mom . A silence cut through the tension, and Ekko bit his lip like he’d realized the implication of his own words. That Jinx was Isha’s mother—Ekko her father. Jinx almost laughed. Quite the family they made.  

She dug her nails into her palms. “Don’t act like I’m not trying.”

“I’m not saying you’re not trying—I know you’re trying, Powder, I promise,” Ekko said, his voice softening slightly, though the edge remained. “But maybe if you stopped treating me like the enemy, we could actually figure this out together .”

Jinx wanted to scoff. Together . Please! That was pathetic coming from the guy who went behind her back with Cait . The guy who didn’t trust her enough to come forward, to be honest .

She was going to bite back—her teeth already bared—when another muffled sob sounded out from Isha’s room.  

Ekko frowned. They were suddenly struck into silence.  

“Go,” Jinx murmured. She flopped back down on the couch, coiling the blanket around her. “She won’t want me. She’s less upset with you, anyway. I’ll just…make it worse.”

“That’s not true—"

It was. She always made it worse.

“ Go ,” she said again. It came out too sharp, and Ekko gave her a look that was half sorrow, half pity. Jinx couldn’t take the stare.

“Ekko, go .”

That time, he did. And she almost wished he hadn’t.

--

It’d turned out that Isha wanted nothing to do with Ekko, either.

Jinx had listened—strained her ears as Ekko stepped in and out of her room seconds apart, before eventually dissolving into his own.

Click to open. Click again to close.

What they’d done for dinner, Jinx hadn’t known. She settled for plain toast with butter, her appetite a tired thing. Eventually, she’d knocked on Isha’s door with gentle hesitancy—an attempt at asking if she wanted anything.

“I can make your favorite—mac and cheese!” Jinx pressed her ear to the door, waiting for the familiar rustle of Isha’s footsteps. But nothing came. Jinx hadn’t honestly expected her to last so long on her own without the iPad keeping her busy.

God. She must’ve really, really been mad.

Then Ekko had passed by.

He’d been shirtless, a towel at his waist from the shower. Beads of water clung to him like second skin, and Jinx couldn’t help the way she gaped, just for a second.  

Their hallway was narrow, and when he brushed past her, his bare arm met hers. Jinx hated the way she ached to press back, to fold forward, to feel him again. Feel that hot mouth just one more time, those solid arms.  

But she couldn’t . Didn’t. Her body couldn’t misstep her mind.

“She already ate,” he’d said. He was already heading past her toward his room, snapping the door shut behind him, leaving Jinx achingly unsteady at his absence.

When he left that early afternoon, Isha offered him the tiniest goodbye—some tiny, pathetic wave—nothing like the usual hug she liked to crush him in, and Jinx caught the way his face twitched when she didn’t.  

He turned to Jinx, clearing his throat. “Call me if there’s anything?”  

Right, because she couldn’t handle it. That was what he believed now, wasn’t it? Jinx wanted to press back, but now wasn’t the time to argue—she didn’t need Isha to hear this one, too. Instead, she bit her tongue, biding him a pathetic goodbye.  

And then the door shut. Click . And her and Isha were left together.  

It was a lot like living alone. Isha stayed in her room, the door shut, and Jinx spent her time tinkering in the living room, tools sprawled out at the coffee table.  

By four o’clock, she was reminded that someone had to make dinner, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be Isha. She opened the door to their fridge to find the thing half-empty—the dingy light inside flickered onto limp lettuce, softened cherry tomatoes, opened condiments. She could’ve made herself a turkey sandwich, but Isha needed a proper meal.  

And besides, maybe Isha would talk to her if they weren’t so confined.  

Isha’s blinds were half-open when Jinx stepped inside, casting a narrow patch of sunlight right through the middle of her room. It leaked low against the floorboards, at the carpet. Isha, meanwhile, laid curled against her bed, draped in the shadows where the sunlight couldn’t reach.  

Jinx came forward with reluctance, the door shut behind her, her heart a hammer in her chest. Isha had her back to Jinx, and from this closer angle, she could see the way Isha fiddled with Lepus, fingers stroking at the worn fur. The poor, blue thing was getting old—Isha dragged it everywhere with her, and Jinx thought it needed a facelift. Well, a furlift, she supposed.  

“Bunny,” Jinx murmured. She wasn’t sure if she was still allowed to use the nickname, but she tried for it anyway. “Can I sit?”

Isha said nothing, which she supposed was better than a modest no . She sat, and the mattress dipped beneath the weight of her.

“I’m missin’ some groceries for dinner,” she said. “How ‘bout we go get some, huh? I’ll make those chicken fajitas you like.”

Isha said nothing. Instead, she curled further into herself, like she could shield away from Jinx. Her grip on Lepus grew tighter, the seams stretching.

“Come on,” Jinx tried again. “You love shopping, don’t you?”

Again, nothing. Jinx shut her eyes tight, taking in a breath. God, how were they ever supposed to get anything done like this? Isha was more stubborn than anyone she’d ever met, and she was only seven .  

“Isha,” Jinx said, more conviction in her tone this time. She stood, suddenly, as if the act alone was insistent. “I have to go to the grocery store, and I can’t leave you alone. You’re coming with me. That’s final.”  

That did it. Isha turned to face her, still lying down. The scowl on her face was deep, curling its way down to her chin. No.  

“ Isha .”  

No.

“Fine,” Jinx scoffed. “You wanna starve for dinner, then?” That was far-fetched, sure—they had food. But it’d worked on her when she was young—when she didn’t want to eat whatever it was Vander had been serving that night.

Isha only glared. But then, as if on cue, Jinx heard the low grumble of her stomach.

Isha flushed sullenly, as if her own body had betrayed her. Jinx only raised a brow, hands at her hips.

“Let’s go,” she urged, tone clipped. She wasn’t giving Isha an option. They were going to the grocery store, whether she liked it or not. “I’m givin’ you ten minutes to get your hoodie and put your shoes on.”  

At first, Jinx was worried she’d have to drag Isha out there herself. She waited by the kitchen, pacing. The time was passing, and Isha hadn’t made a peep. But then, seven minutes later, Jinx watched as Isha stumbled lazily out of her room. She shoved on her hoodie—her sneakers.

Then she stared at Jinx with hard, narrowed eyes. God, you’d think she was sending Isha to war.

They walked there. The place wasn’t far—some family-owned grocery store tucked three blocks down. It was a little rundown—tiles missing at their corners, the fluorescents above flickering, humming with a too-loud buzz that itched at the brain.

But there was hardly anyone here, and for that Jinx loved it.

Once inside, Jinx plucked at a basket. Isha shuffled behind her, her feet dragging.  

Jinx forced a smile and tried to keep her tone light. She hoped this would go well—then maybe she could talk to Isha for real —tell her the truth about what she’d overhead on Saturday.

“Hey,” Jinx said. They were stationed next to a massive pile of avocados—their shells a range of bright, dark greens. Some looked more ready to be eaten than others. “You like guac, why don’t you find me some ripe avocados?”

Jinx picked one up, pressing her thumb into the skin before holding it out to Isha. “Try this one. What do you think?

Isha plucked the avocado from Jinx’s hand and gave it the lightest squeeze, her movements robotic and devoid of care. It’s fine , she signed, her hands moving lazily.

“Just fine?” Jinx teased; her voice too cheery—too forced. “C’mon, we’ve gotta make sure they’re perfect.”

Isha didn’t answer, settling the avocado down into the basket without offering Jinx another glance. She turned away quickly, as though the interaction had exhausted her.

Jinx bit back a sigh. It could’ve gone worse, she supposed. Isha could’ve bit her—run off—screamed.

Jinx followed Isha as the girl trudged along, her head down, clearly doing her best to avoid her. Every attempt Jinx made to engage her was met with a curt nod, a shrug, or silence. It was driving her insane.  

They went for the tortillas next, and Jinx scanned the shelves for the right bag. She had just reached up to grab one when she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her.

Jinx flipped her head. Isha had bumped into some elderly woman and her massive cart of groceries—a cardigan tightly twined around her.

She bolted back, as if on instinct, pressing against Jinx’s legs, her head tucked against Jinx’s elbow. One of her hands reached for Jinx’s jean jacket, digging onto the hem of her pocket and clinging there. It was the closest they’d been since that Saturday, and Jinx almost forgot how the weight of her felt—small and snug.

“Shit, Isha—” Jinx drew her attention to the woman, voice tight. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Jinx didn’t apologize to strangers, but the woman seemed kind enough—her smile had only grown wider. She waved a careless hand. “Please, that’s no problem.”

She shot Isha a sweetened grin, and the girl only curled closer into Jinx’s side.

“Oh, well aren’t you just darling,” cooed the woman. She didn’t look bothered at all by Isha’s accidental shove against her. The woman looked up at Jinx, still smiling. She had straight, white teeth like Jayce. “Looks just like her mama.”

Jinx gaped. Against her legs, Isha froze.

“Have a good evening, now,” the woman said with a little wave, stepping past them, unaware of what she’d just done.

Isha’s grip on Jinx’s jacket loosened almost instantly. She stepped away from her side, brushing past the shelves of tortillas with a stiff, mechanical movement, her back turned to Jinx.  

Jinx’s throat tightened as she watched her go. She couldn’t bring herself to call after her. The words felt like jagged rocks, lodged somewhere deep. What would she even say?

She wanted to reach out, to pull Isha back—anything to keep her close for just a moment longer. But she knew better than that. Isha would only retreat further, and Jinx didn’t think she could handle the distance stretching even wider.  

Instead, she grabbed the tortillas from the shelf, tossing them into the basket without much thought, and followed after Isha, her legs heavy with every step.

They left without another word—Jinx hastily paying—Isha trailing even farther back now than she had before.

The walk home was nearing impossible—Isha almost six feet behind Jinx as she dragged her feet against the filthy sidewalk, surely scratching the bottom of her brand-new sneakers.

And frankly, Jinx was getting fed up.

“Isha,” Jinx said, her tone growing worn, “pick up the pace, kid. We aren’t just hangin’ out on this sidewalk all night. I’ve gotta make us dinner.”

Isha only stared, pausing for a second before lazily dragging her feet one more time. She kicked at a rock, and it skidded against the pavement, landing right by Jinx’s withered Sambas.  

Jinx let out a groan. Her patience was wearing thin, and God knew it’d never been a thick thing.  

“Quit kickin’ those things at me.”

Really, Jinx wouldn’t have minded the rocks if Isha wasn’t acting so bratty lately. If she hadn’t been storming out of class and ignoring her all week. If she’d just let her talk .

Then Isha kicked another rock, this one flying out and landing stark against Jinx’s shin.

  Oh, that was her last straw.

“Okay, that’s enough !” She snapped. She heaved up the grocery bag, the weight of it slipping from her grip at the sudden outburst. “I know you’re mad at me—you don’t wanna hear me talk. Fine, whatever! You can mope around all you like at home, but not on the street—not now!”

Isha’s face only grew red. She stomped forward, hands clenched in fists, and for a second, all Jinx could see was a flicker of herself—younger, falsely lashing out at Vander, at Vi.

I don’t have to listen to you, she signed, movements harsh. Her mouth was a thin, pressed line. You’re not my mama!

Jinx froze.

The words cut sharper than she thought possible, slicing straight through skin and slashing at her heart. She wasn’t Isha’s mother. She knew she wasn’t…not really. Though maybe, lately, she couldn’t have helped but let herself believe it’s what she was becoming.  

Ekko referred to her as such. Isha’s school did, too. And if Vi saw herself as Isha’s aunt, then that made Jinx Isha’s mother. That was the only logical conclusion.  

Besides, even now, amidst all this anger, she couldn’t imagine a life without her, without Ekko, without the family they’d built.  

But maybe she’d ruined that, too. And maybe she was dumb for having ever tried—having wanted it to work out.  

It never did.  

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t find her voice.  

When she finally spoke, it was low and unsteady, trembling at the edges.

“Yeah, well… maybe you’re right.” She forced a bitter laugh, the words stinging even as they slipped from her mouth.  

Isha shrank back, almost like she hadn’t expected her to agree. Still, Jinx went on. “Maybe I’m not your mom. But I’m the one who’s here, aren’t I?”

Isha stared, her angry frown faltering into something more vulnerable—only a little. Once the words slipped out, Jinx couldn’t help the rest.

“I’m the one who’s folding your laundry, and washing your dishes, and helping you with all the homework you never want to do!” She sucked in a breath. “And I know you’re mad—and I know you don’t believe it when I try to explain myself, so I’ll take the anger. You wanna know why— why I take it?”  

Isha stared back, eyes still hard, though her chin had started wobbling. You have to , she signed.  

“No—no one is making me do any of that. Not Sky. Not Ekko. Definitely not Cait.” Jinx sighed. Her voice suddenly grew soft, and Jinx had to keep her tone steady. “Isha, I do it because I love you.”  

The words came easily, like they’d been meaning to slip out—like they’d been aching to. Jinx clenched her jaw. It was the truth.  

Isha stood frozen. That hardened look in her eyes softened, embedded with sudden confusion before hardening all over again—angrier, suddenly. Her bottom lip quivered, but still she held her ground.  

She signed with quick, sharp hands, Liar .

Jinx’s heart cracked.

“I’m not lying,” Jinx fussed. “I love you. You’re—” my baby, she wanted to say.

But she wasn’t Isha’s mother. Isha didn’t see her that way—she’d made it clear enough.

Jinx stumbled, her breath catching as she tried to reroute. “You’re…you’re my family, okay? You’re ours. Mine and Ekko’s. That hasn’t changed—not even for a second.”

Isha’s jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides as her shoulders rose with each shaky breath. Her eyes glossed over, though no tears spilled. Instead, she stepped back again, her chin lifted high in defiance, though it still wobbled faintly.  

Liar , she signed again, slower this time, her hands moving with deliberate precision as if to make the accusation hit harder.

“I’m not lying !” Jinx snapped, the tension in her chest coiling tighter. She let the grocery bag slump further down her arm, her free hand gesturing sharply toward Isha. “Why would I lie about that?”

Isha didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze flicked toward the street, and for a second, Jinx thought she was about to run. But she didn’t. She just stood there, rooted in place.  

Jinx sighed, dragging her hand down her face. “Bunny, I’m trying, okay? I know I mess up. I know I’ve done things to make you mad—things I can’t take back. But I’m here—I’m not going anywhere.”

Isha’s head snapped back to her, eyes blazing. You don’t care, she signed, her movements quick and jerky, her hands trembling. You don’t even want me.

Jinx’s chest constricted so tightly it felt like she couldn’t breathe. She had to explain herself—had to let Isha know.

“No,” she murmured, tone desperate, stepping closer. “That’s not true. I want you here—with me. With Ekko. We both—”

But Isha didn’t let her finish. She stormed past Jinx, hurrying down the sidewalk without so much as a glance back.  

The force of her shove against Jinx’s arm sent the grocery bag wobbling, and a couple of avocados tumbled out, rolling onto the concrete. Jinx stared after her, frozen, her pulse pounding in her ears as the back of Isha’s yellow sweater grew smaller and smaller.

“Shit,” Jinx muttered under her breath, bending down to retrieve the runaway produce. Her fingers trembled as she placed the avocados back into the bag, her throat tightening with every second that passed.

This was ridiculous. Ridiculous .

Isha hated her—there was no undoing it.

She straightened, clutching the bag to her chest, and looked ahead at Isha’s retreating form. The distance between them felt insurmountable, like a canyon she couldn’t hope to cross.

Jinx sucked in a shaky breath and started walking, keeping her distance.

It wasn’t far to the apartment now, but it felt like miles.

--

They didn’t eat dinner together.

Jinx gave Isha a dish—the porcelain of it clanking against the table—and retreated to the couch while she ate. Jinx didn’t say anything—didn’t even try to coax Isha into eating. She’d done enough begging for one day.  

Isha didn’t touch the plate right away. Jinx could feel the girl’s eyes darting toward her, sharp and wary, like she was waiting for Jinx to say or do something. But Jinx just couldn’t meet her gaze—too worried what she’d find there. Instead, she buried herself in the mess of parts on the coffee table.

She picked up a screwdriver, fiddling with a small metal casing she’d been working on earlier that afternoon. Her hands moved instinctively, tightening screws and adjusting angles, but her mind was elsewhere.  

She gulped and stared at the time on her phone.

6:47.

Ekko wouldn’t be here ‘til midnight, and she couldn’t help but feel wary at the thought. She was angry at him. She was pissed. But…something in her ached .

The sound of a fork scraping against the plate was the only indication that Isha had started eating at all. Jinx peeked up once, just briefly, and saw her shoveling bits of chicken and tortilla into her mouth without much enthusiasm.

She could feel Isha’s occasional gaze at the side of her face—the way she kept darting glances.

Jinx sighed, turning to face her. Maybe she’d talk. Maybe she wanted to say something, hear Jinx out. But when their eyes met, Isha retreated to her plate, as if Jinx’s stare had burned.

Jinx ate only later, while Isha got herself ready for bed.

Usually, she liked for Jinx to brush through her hair before she slept—frame the braids. But she hadn’t asked in days, and she sure as hell wouldn’t fold tonight. Not after that.

Eventually, Isha stumbled back into the kitchen in a pair of fresh pajamas while Jinx was drying the dishes. She pried for a cup in the drying rack and poured it with water.

Jinx cleared her throat.“You goin’ to sleep?”

Isha nodded, not bothering to spare her a glance.

“Okay,” Jinx managed, voice tight. “Goodnight.”

Isha said nothing—her feet heavy as she pattered away to her room.

After a while, Jinx crept down the hall and eased Isha’s door open just a crack. The lights were already off, the faint glow of the star stickers on the ceiling casting soft, uneven light. Isha was curled beneath the sheets, Lepus tucked close to her chest.

Jinx stared at her for a moment, her heart twisting painfully. She almost wanted to say something, to assure Isha that everything would be okay, that Jinx would figure this out—fix this. But what was the point? Isha was already asleep, and she hadn’t listened to any of her other pleas.  

Gently, she shut the door and stumbled to the washroom. The shower she took was long. She spent too much time with her hair—spent time scrubbing the soap to her skin—like she could wash the day off herself, wash the anger and the bitterness.

She slipped on a pair of shorts and a thin, white tank top before crawling back to the couch, cocooning herself with a blanket.

She left the TV off and settled for scrolling through her phone.

That’s when it popped up. Caitlyn’s Instagram.

On her screen was a picture of Cait and Vi at the engagement party—some professional photo, filtered black and white. They were smiling together, dancing, their hands intertwined, their foreheads brushing.

The caption was ridiculously long—pathetically sappy.

Had they already made up? They were fighting, too, when Jinx left. Vi’d insulted the whole damn party.

Her stomach churned. What a joke .  

Well, if Vi wanted to be so forgiving…then maybe …  

She closed the app, opening iMessage instead. The clock read 9:32 when she typed out a text to Vi.

hey. we have to talk.

She wasn’t sure what else to say, only that her mind was spinning, and she couldn’t stand the thought of someone else she loved being angry with her for much longer. Vi had left before, but she’d always come back to her. Always.

The hours swirled past, but no reply came. With each minute, Jinx felt a twinge in her heart.

She stared at the time written at her lock screen—below it, a photo of Ekko and Isha from that day at the science center, months ago. They were peering into a tank of sting rays—Isha perched on his lap—and their hands brushed at the smooth skin of a tiny, flat one.  

Ekko looked a whole lot more wary than Isha did, his smile tight while hers had only been mischievous.

He’d thought she’d get stung. Jinx remembered having to press him to let Isha try, the girl practically begging on her hands and knees. He only agreed to it by trying it out first himself—as if to be sure it was really safe.

Jinx clenched her jaw. The memory struck like a blow to the chest. She suddenly missed him so much that she was swimming in it.

She was angry. She was still angry. He’d gone behind her back, and for that she couldn’t forgive him. But the reason…she couldn’t be mad at the reason. He just—he didn’t trust her, did he? That’s how it felt. That was the hurt.  

Still, despite the looming anger, she missed him anyway. Those two things could exist at the same time, couldn’t they? Jinx had only recently figured that out.  

After midnight, the noise came.

Click . The front door opened. Click . It shut.  

There he was—Ekko—drenched in shadows as he walked into the apartment. Jinx had left the lights off, and he dropped his bag to the floor, heaving off his shoes. He still hadn’t noticed Jinx, and she watched him with precision from the couch—the clench of his jaw, the bend of his arms.  

Her heart lurched in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever needed him more.

His scrubs were on again—he hadn’t showered at the hospital.

He came forward, eyes narrowing when—

“Jesus.” He jumped back, drawing a hand to his heart. He was huffing now, his mouth half quirked up like he meant to laugh. “You scared the hell out of me—why are you up?”

  Jinx said nothing. She stood, blanket abandoned, and blinked at him. Her hands brushed the bare skin of her thigh, right where her shorts couldn’t cover.

Ekko approached—they were still a few feet apart, but she could see him better from this close, the streetlights turning him brighter, fresher. The apartment was tinged in blackened-blue—that usual warmth from their cornered lamp missing.

He smelled of himself. Of detergent—of sterile, rubbing alcohol and hand soap. Ekko’s brows knotted at the base of his forehead—he knew something was wrong. He always knew.  

“How was it?” He asked, though she assumed he knew the answer. “Tonight?”  

Again, Jinx said nothing. She let out a breath, opting for a shrug.

She was so mad at him. She was so mad.

He rubbed at the skin of his arm, shoulders slumping. His tone was nothing but soft when he mumbled, “ fuck . That bad?”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Denying herself of him. It felt like something was missing—oxygen in her brain, blood in her veins. She felt like a half-broken machine, its parts bent—her wires wrongly routed.

A sob slipped from her chapped, open mouth. She drew herself forward, collapsing into Ekko’s chest. Without reluctance he caught her. One of his arms made for her waist, hand gripping, while the other curled through the strands of her hair, thumb stroking at her scalp.

“Hey,” Ekko whispered. His tone was urgent—worried. Soft, delicate. All of it at once. “Hey—it’s okay. What happened?”

She gulped—she wanted to speak, but it felt like nothing would come out, like nothing should come out.  

Every time she spoke, all she did was ruin something . Instead, she nestled closer, burying her face into Ekko’s neck and relishing in the warmth of him. Her arms were scooped below his own, twining at his back, anchoring him to her.

She could feel the beat of his heart against her chest. Or maybe that was hers, growing too loud. What did it change? His heart or hers, it all felt the same. They shared both either way.

“Powder,” he murmured. His voice was quiet, a mere lull within the room. He forced an inch of distance between them, just so he could draw her face into his hands, cupping her cheeks. “Talk to me, please .”

Finally, she met his gaze. His eyes were soft—his stare so gentle, so etched with worry. Of course.  

She could’ve laughed. How did they always end up here? Him, trying to save her again—wanting her to talk through it, wanting her to admit.

But she didn’t want to talk.

Instead, she tilted forward, the room dipped in darkness, and drew their mouths together.

This time, there was no caution to it. No doubt. It’d only been once, but she felt ready enough to know her way around him. They’d known each other for years . This was more than a reunion—it was a homecoming.

She pushed hard, arms twining to his neck, hands pressing down, pulling him forward. He gasped into her open mouth again, just as he had the first time—and again, she swallowed it down, whimpered back.

Her tongue dragged across his bottom lip with desperation, tracing him. When his own tongue met her halfway, she moaned at the release of it. Their chests were pressed together, but still— still he wasn’t close enough. They’d been apart for too long—too many days without him. She needed to make up for it.  

Lowly, she whispered, “don’t stop.”

Jinx dragged her kisses to his mouth, sprawling them to the corner of his lips, to the flush of his cheek, to the dip of his jaw, to the veins of his neck—hot tongue trailing its path.  

Ekko was panting—both his hands had found her hips, and he pressed her forward. She groaned greedily at the feel of him. “ Fuck —"

He moaned into her ear—tongue at the lobe—when she bit into his neck, teeth hardly grazing. She dragged her fingers low, low, low, tugging at the hem of his shirt and trying to pull it off—trying to get closer.

“Ekko,” she whispered, half whining. His mouth had found her jaw, trailing low. She shivered when his lips pressed kisses to the bare skin of her collarbone, to the hollow space there.

She reached back for his mouth, and he tugged her top lip between his own, insatiable. “Please, please . I need you.”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say.  

He pulled away, suddenly. She chased his mouth—but he’d pressed them apart. Ekko kept his hands at her waist and still Jinx whined. The space between them had grown too vast.

“Wh—” Jinx stammered. She pushed her hands against his shoulders, fingers latching. “Why—”

“Jinx,” Ekko mumbled. He drew their foreheads together, but when Jinx made to kiss him again, he stopped her with his words. When the words came, Jinx could feel the pain of them—like they’d been pulled from him with force, with nothing but doubtful restraint. “Jinx, I… we can’t.”  

Jinx’s heart sank in her chest. She froze in his arms. Her words were unsteady when she mumbled, carefully, “you…you don’t want this?”  

Tears brimmed, collecting at her lashes. Another rejection—another loss. Again, again, again. No matter what she did.  

Ekko’s hands clutched her tighter, holding her steady. “No— no . Jinx, there’s nothing— no one —I want more.”  

“Then,” Jinx murmured. Their lips were still so, so close, and she could feel the brush of his cupid’s bow when she whispered, “why? Ekko, why ?”  

“You’re upset with me.” He swallowed hard, she could hear it up close. “We need to talk about it—about everything before—”  

“I don’t want to talk!” She suddenly snapped. She shoved herself away, but Ekko’s hand clasped her wrist just in time, twining their fingers together, drawing himself closer. The look on his face was one of pain—something that burned. “I’m sick of talking.”  

“ Jinx —”  

“No,” she whispered. She forced her arm away and immediately found herself mourning the loss of his touch.  

But Ekko didn’t want this. So she wouldn’t give it to him.  

“Jinx,” he tried again, pleading. His voice was a mere croak—breaking at the edges—and Jinx noted the way his eyes were growing wet. “Please. Please , let’s just take it slow—this doesn’t have to be a fight—not everything always has to be a fight—”

She hauled in a breath. He was right about one thing—she didn’t care to fight this time. She was too tired for it.

She shoved past him without another word, ignoring the way he called out for her. Her heart was a wary thing in her chest—beating loud, loud, too loud.  

When she ran for her room, he didn’t chase her, and something bitter inside groaned, wishing he had.

He was so good. Too good. And still… still she was upset with him. He wanted a real conversation. But Jinx didn’t want words. Not now. She wanted him —despite the anger, she still wanted him.  

How bad must she be, Jinx wondered, to be upset at something so good.  

--

On Sunday morning, Ekko took on a task he’d been avoiding for far too long—revamping the balcony.

While they hardly ever touched it during the winter months, they often spent most summer days lounging there, a string of fairy lights twining at the rusted, metal railing.

The space wasn’t big at all—rectangular, narrow—big enough for only the smallest of round tables and three chairs with fraying wicker seats. There were a few potted plants he needed to replace, hidden in corners where the sun couldn’t reach. The dull, wooden floor was due for a sanding, splintering in too many places.

He’d been at it since breakfast—hair hidden beneath a green bandana, sweat clinging to the feel of his loosened, white tee—stripping off old, black paint from the railing and muttering plans for where he’d set up the tiny herb garden he’d been wanting for too long.

Jinx had stayed out of his way, just as he’d expected, lingering in her room and tinkering with her own crap.

After last night, he couldn’t understand where they stood. They’d always had the kind of relationship that transcended common definition—transcended labels—but this was something else. New territory—a complexity even he couldn’t wrap his head around.  

He wished she’d just talk. Wished she wasn’t so stubborn. And while he knew he’d done the right thing, he still felt…selfishly annoyed.  

Some creviced part of Ekko—the part that was more feeling than thought—was reeling, angry that he’d cut the kiss short. He’d craved her mouth since the first time he tasted it—maybe before then, too—but this wasn’t how he wanted it. Not without fixing things. Not to be shunned again the next morning, after they’d given each other all their parts.  

Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?  

He clenched his jaw and reached for a thin, sleek nail—he was going to hang potted plants and herbs at the railing, a little floating garden.

Ekko hammered in the nail, each rhythmic clink resonating in the otherwise quiet morning. The sun hung low, golden rays spilling over the balcony’s worn wooden planks. The wind was what he had to keep him cool—that, and a bottle of water. He’d managed to sand a section of the floor a little earlier, though the splinters were still relentless.

A faint rustling sound caught his attention. He straightened, glancing over his shoulder.  

At first, he thought he’d imagined it—just the wind catching the blinds. But then he saw her.

Isha stood just past the open balcony door, Lepus tucked snugly under her arm. Her hands gripped the bunny like it was her anchor, and she shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, not quite looking at him.

“Hey, Bunny,” Ekko said, lowering the hammer and brushing his hands against his jeans to relieve the thin, ashen wood that’d piled up from all the sanding. She hadn’t come to him in days, and he was suddenly worried this meant something was wrong. “Everything okay?”

Isha hesitated, her gaze darting between him and the scattered tools. Eventually, she slotted Lepus on the floor, right by a bed of unused nails, and crouched next to Ekko on the planks.

She signed with hesitant hands, help?

Oh. He hadn’t expected that. Jinx had finally given back the iPad this morning—not without sour reluctance—and Isha hardly offered her any thanks. He thought she’d spend her whole day on that thing, making up for lost time.  

But apparently not. A blooming smile found its way to his mouth.  

“Yeah—yeah! Of course you can.” He tried not to sound stupidly happy about it, but a sudden relief had flooded him all at once—a dam breaking open. “Why don’t you hand me the nails when I need ‘em?”  

Isha nodded, though she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Her hair was still a mess from sleep, and when Ekko reached over to quickly brush his fingers through a matted knot, he relished in the way she didn’t pull back.  

He offered a smile, and Isha offered him the smallest one in return. That was a win in his book.  

“Okay,” Ekko said, reaching for the loose pile of nails by Lepus. “See this one here?” He tapped at an unfinished section of the railing where another planter hook was meant to go. “I’ll hold the hook in place, and you can hand me the nail. Sound good?”  

Isha nodded again, more confidently this time.

Ekko started working, occasionally glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed more herself now, less like the angry, distant Isha from earlier in the week. She watched him intently, her little fingers fumbling through the pile to pick the strongest, straightest nails.

Ekko couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe things were finally going to work out again—maybe she’d listen this time, when he tried to talk. But he couldn’t run straight into it—not yet. He had to be strategic.

Eventually, she tugged on his sleeve, fingers prying.

He turned to face her, swiping at the sweat of his brow. “Yeah?”

She looked less hesitant this time, asking, can I try?  

Her eyes were set on the hammer in Ekko’s grip. The thing was heavy—a little dangerous, too—but he couldn’t say no. Not after the week they’d just had.  

“Sure,” he said, “but I gotta help­ you out this first time—just a little.”

Isha shrugged, like she’d settle for it if he insisted. She scooted closer, and Ekko planted the hammer in her fist, guiding her toward the nail he was holding with his other hand.  

“Okay, you gotta hit it real hard—and watch your fingers.”

His hand covered hers, helping her hold up that old, worn hammer. It was Benzos from years ago, and Ekko would never give the thing up, no matter how rusted it became.

He drew his own strength to make sure they’d hit the nail just right. Clank . The nail lodged itself in the railing with a loud, shrill sound. Perfectly straight.

Isha looked up at him, amber eyes wide, like she hadn’t believed she could do it.

“Look at that, you did it like a pro!” Ekko laughed. He reached over to ruffle her hair. “That’s my girl.”  

Isha's face lit up, her smile small but genuine. It was the first time in days she’d looked at him like that—like she wasn’t mad, like she still trusted him.  

Ekko felt like he could finally breathe.

“Y’know,” he said casually, trying to keep his tone light, “we should invite Orianna over next time. You two could really help me set up that herb garden I’m thinking of.”  

Isha’s face brightened even more at the mention of Orianna. She hadn’t mentioned her, but Ekko knew well enough she wouldn’t forget about her. Her hands moved quickly, excitedly. Yes! When?

Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll see. Maybe next weekend, if she’s free.”

That’d done it. She was smiling even wider now, nodding along.

Okay, Ekko figured. Now was the time…

“Hey,” he started. “You know…you know I love you, right?”

It was the first time he ever said it, but the words came with ease. It was undeniable, and she deserved to hear it. He almost wished he’d said it sooner.

Isha paused. He noted the grit of her jaw. She fiddled aimlessly with her own fingers, as if making up for Lepus’ absence in her hands.

Eventually, she nodded—slowly, delicately. The smile she wore had dissipated, and her face was somewhat solemn, but he knew she was telling the truth. That she understood.  

Oh, thank God. That was good—she knew. She admitted it.

“And,” he went on. “You know Jinx loves you, too, yeah?”

This time, Isha wholly froze.

She didn’t nod. She didn’t shake her head either. She just stared at him, her face etched with layers upon layers of clotted uncertainty. Her hands hovered near her lap, fingers fidgeting but unmoving, as though she didn’t know how to respond.  

Ekko frowned, his chest tightening at the hesitation. She had to know. Right? Jinx made it obvious enough.  

“Bunny…” he kept his tone gentle—careful. He didn’t want another outburst, another meltdown. He wanted this conversation to last. To mean something. “She does. I promise you.”  

Isha’s lips pursed, her brows furrowing. But before either of them could press further, the balcony door creaked open behind them.

“Need another hand?”  

Jinx’s voice startled them both. She stood in the doorway, her hands shoved deep into the pocket of her blue jean shorts, a slightly forced smile tugging at her lips. She looked like she wasn’t sure if she should be here—like she was doubting her interruption, but Ekko felt relieved at the appearance of her.  

Even when they fought, her presence drew comfort.

Ekko sat back, subtly watching Isha’s reaction. The girl stiffened instantly, her shoulders going rigid as her hands reflexively reached for Lepus. She scooted a fraction closer to Ekko, avoiding Jinx’s gaze entirely.

“Uh…yeah,” Ekko said, breaking the silence. He beckoned her forward. He wanted Jinx close—always close. “We could use the help. Right, Isha?”

Isha didn’t answer. Her head was down, her focus fixed solely on Lepus as her fingers brushed over the bunny’s worn ears.

Jinx stepped out onto the balcony, her smile faltering as she glanced between them.

There was something in her face this morning that hadn’t been there last night. A flicker of hope. She looked at Ekko, eyes widened. Maybe she wasn’t so mad about last night. Maybe she was sick of fighting, too.  

Maybe after they talked, they could…try it again.

Ekko swallowed hard at the thought.

Jinx crouched down by the pile of tools, picking up a stray screwdriver and fiddling with it.

“What’re we working on?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Just fixing up the railing,” Ekko said, gesturing to the freshly hammered nails. “And figuring out where to hang some plants. We’re making it nice out here for summer—aren’t we, Isha?”  

Again, Isha said nothing. She merely twitched her head, and Ekko would hardly call it a nod.  

Jinx bit her lip—an anxious tick—her hand gripping the screwdriver too, too tight. She was already pale, but her knuckles were white from her clasp. She reached over with her free hand, picking up one of the smaller pots from the corner. “This one still good? Or we tossing it?”  

Ekko glanced at the pot. It was damaged, but nothing he couldn’t work with. “We could probably reuse it. Maybe paint it or something.”  

Jinx hummed in agreement, setting the pot aside. She leaned closer to inspect the railing, but her elbow accidentally brushed Lepus, knocking the toy from Isha’s hands, sending the bunny tumbling to the floor.

“Shit—sorry, Ish,” she muttered, reaching to grab Lepus. Her fingers brushed over her worn ear, and before she realized it, a noise pierced out through the early morning drone.

Ripppp .

Lepus’ matted fur must’ve gotten stuck to one of the tangled nails—the tattered fabric giving way from the force of Jinx’s grip, leaving the bunny’s floppy, flat ear dangling by a few thin threads.

For a moment, no one moved. Ekko’s breathing had hitched.

Then, only a little later, Isha gasped audibly, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at Lepus in horror. She snatched the bunny from Jinx’s hands, cradling her against her chest as her eyes filled with tears. She fiddled with the ear, trying to force it back in place, like she could fix it with her own two hands and nothing else.

“Oh, shit ,” Jinx stammered, her own hands flying up defensively. “Isha. I’m so sorry—I only wanted to help—”

But Isha wasn’t listening. Her face twisted with anger and heartbreak as she clutched Lepus tighter, her small frame trembling.

Ekko reached for her, his voice gentle. “Bunny, it’s okay. We can fix her—”  

Isha shook her head violently. She stood, stepping away from them. Her hands moved in sharp, jerky motions, signing furiously. No! Don’t touch her!

“Isha, I didn’t mean to—” Jinx tried again, her voice desperate, but the girl shot her a glare that cut deep, silencing her.

Then, without another word, Isha turned and bolted inside, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing through the empty apartment.

Next to him, Jinx sat, still crouched, shaking. Her mouth was opening and closing, as if she couldn’t believe what’d just happened.  

Fuck. Ekko could scream. All of this was progress down the goddamn drain.  

Ekko reached over, dropping a hand to her shoulder. “Powder,” he mumbled. “It’s okay, you can fix it for her—”  

Jinx flinched beneath his touch. Her voice was fraught. Not angry, not fiery. It was tired, worn. Like she was fed up—exhausted. “Like she’ll let me!”  

She stood suddenly, and Ekko rose with her. He pried for her hand, but Jinx pushed back before he could latch on.

Ekko knew her well enough to know the kind of blame that was reeling through her head right now.

“It’s not the end of the world. Stuff like this happens.”

Jinx let out a bitter laugh, short and sharp, as if the sound cut through her to heave its way out.  

“Does it, though? I mean, I just—” She gestured helplessly toward the door that Isha had disappeared through. “I can’t get anything right.”

“That’s not true!”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked like she was about to say something—something sharp, something cutting—but then her shoulders sagged. She shook her head instead.

He wanted to speak again—wanted to say something else, anything else. But she spoke before he could manage.

“I can’t—I can’t deal with this right now,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned away from him. “I just…I need to go.”

Ekko frowned, his hand falling to his side. “Go where?”

His hands turned to fists at his sides. She was running again .

“Somewhere.” Jinx’s words were clipped, and she didn’t meet his gaze as she made her way toward the door. “Anywhere that isn’t here.”

“Jinx, wait, please—” Ekko reached for her, his voice laced with concern, but she was already slipping past him, brushing his arm away as she moved.  

“Just…take care of her,” she said over her shoulder, her tone final. “I’ll be back later.”  

And then she was gone, the door creaking shut behind her and leaving Ekko alone on the balcony, the weight of her departure pressing heavy at his chest.

--

The sign to Vijay’s was neon and swirling.

Big and blocky—cursive and colored a bright, ugly pink.

It pressed to the red brick of the outer restaurant wall like more of a threat than an invitation. Some of its bulbs were broken at the letter “I,” deeming the place as Vjays.

Which was…unbelievably worse.  

Jinx wasn’t sure how she’d ended up here—why this was the place her feet had dragged her to.

She figured it was something innate. Something that always lived deep within her—some constant, burrowed childish need for her sister.  

It was Sunday, and she wasn’t sure if Vi would be here at all, but something in her thought maybe she would. Maybe, just for this—just once—she could be lucky.

Vi had answered her text early that morning. A simple, humble, yes, call me . But Jinx had lost all inkling to engage in conversation, the dread of last night suddenly behind her. She’d woken up feeling better than she had in days, despite how the night before had gone—her heart beating with the sudden urge to fix . To heal .

Ekko’s words, his touch—as fleeting as it had been—had settled something in her. There’s nothing—no one—I want more.

But she hadn’t fixed anything. She’d made things worse. And she felt stupid for having believed otherwise. She supposed what she pathetically needed was… comfort. Even if Vi was angry with her. Maybe the act of seeing her alone would stitch up something in her chest.  

She stepped inside, the restaurant not yet busy—it was hardly ten o’clock, and she figured people didn’t go for sandwiches ‘til later in the day.

There, at the coffee bar, stood Vi. She was swiping at the espresso machine with a rug, cleaning the sleek, silver of it. When she caught sight of Jinx, the stale expression she wore flickered to something serious. Her pressed mouth faltered before splitting open, brows knotted.

“Powder?” Vi’s voice alone drew Jinx closer, a subconscious thing. “What—what are you doin’ here?”

Jinx wasn’t sure how to answer that. What was she doing here?

“I—” she hesitated. She pressed a hand to her own arm, squeezing at the bare skin there. She’d left the house in a t-shirt and some shorts—it was hot enough outside, but the AC was blasting goosebumps to her skin.  

“I just…” she started again, swallowing, “I guess I needed you.”

The words came out pathetically small—more Powder than Jinx. She looked away, as if that would make the embarrassment sting less. Vi must’ve noticed, too. She dropped her rag and staggered forward, arms open.  

Jinx crumpled into them, burying her face into the familiar crook of Vi’s neck. How many times had she cried right on this same patch of skin? How many tears had Vi carried for the both of them? How many more could she bear?

Vi’s hands were solid—one at the back of her head, the other at her back, the way she always hugged her.

“I’m glad you came,” Vi said. Her voice was shaky, and Jinx wondered if Vi had missed her all this time, too. “I—I was going to call eventually. I just…I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”

Jinx pulled away, though Vi kept a steady hand on her cheek.

“I didn’t,” Jinx mumbled. “Not ‘til…” she trailed off, unsure where to start. Not until she fought with Ekko, with Isha. Not until she felt like Vi was all the solidity she had left, despite the reality that they’d soon be worlds apart—Vi now ingrained with Cait’s family.    

Vi said nothing at her lack of words. Instead, she reached for Jinx’s cold hand and lead her to a dingier booth at the far corner of the restaurant, the torn leather of it red and stained. They sat facing each other, Jinx fiddling with a tiny packet of ketchup someone had left at the table.  

“You should really clean this thing,” Jinx said, shoving at a bread crumb with the ketchup packet. “Your Google reviews must be dogshit.”  

Vi raised a brow, though her mouth twitched upright. “Our reviews are fine, Powder, thank you very much.”

They shared a stupid smile, and for a second Jinx forgot the whirlwind inside. Maybe this was why she came—to forget. But that wouldn’t last. Vi’s face twisted back to that serious look she’d had before, brows furrowed, and she reached across to clasp at Jinx’s wrists.  

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d known that Cait’s parents would’ve said that shit about Isha—about you and Ekko being unfit —”

“Don’t be,” she mumbled. A bitter scoff fled her throat. “Don’t be sorry. They were right.”

Vi frowned. “No—no, they weren’t right at all. Don’t say that, Powder.”

Jinx only shrugged. “Maybe not about Ekko. But…they were right about me .”

Vi’s grip only grew tighter at her wrists. She was looking at her like she was delicate, and Jinx had to look away. “What do you mean?”

Jinx chewed at the inside of her cheek. “Isha…she hates me.”

It was Vi’s turn to scoff. She pressed back into the booth, shaking her head like Jinx had said the most ridiculous thing in the whole world. “Don’t talk crazy—”

“It’s not crazy,” Jinx insisted, her tone growing suddenly wary. “She doesn’t even look at me anymore. She thinks I don’t want her. That I don’t love her. And every time I try to tell her otherwise, she won’t even hear it."  

Vi gave her a pitiful look. “Because of Saturday? With what she overheard…about Ekko and Cait?”

It sounded less like a question and more like a realization—like she hadn’t thought it’d have impacted Isha so hard. Vi looked suddenly hollowed out, paler. “Powder, you know Cait just wanted to—"

“I get it, okay?” She said. She didn’t want to give Cait any credit. But maybe Ekko deserved some. “Ekko was trying to do something good for us. For her. But it—it feels like he didn’t trust me to handle it. Like I would’ve messed it up the way I’ve messed up everything else…and now Isha thinks I’m the problem—been actin’ out all week since.”

“You’re not the problem.” Vi reached back out for her hands. “She just…she loves you so much she can’t stomach the thought of you not having wanted her.”  

Jinx let out a scoff, the sting of a sour memory flaring. “She said I’m not her mom. That doesn’t feel like love.”

Vi’s gaze softened, but her voice remained firm. “Of course it’s love. Do you really think she meant that? Or do you think she’s just a kid trying to make you feel the way you made her feel; hurt?”

Jinx froze, her breath hitching. She hadn’t meant to hurt Isha—she wasn’t the one who—

“And I know you didn’t mean it,” Vi continued quickly, her words spilling out like she was trying to get ahead of an argument. “I know it wasn’t about her—it was about Cait. About Ekko. About… trust. But Isha doesn’t see it that way. All she knows is it felt like you didn’t want her there.”  

Jinx blanked. Guilt flooded her. It all sounded simpler when Vi said it. But it didn’t feel simple.

Vi's words hung in the air. Her chest tightened, a dull ache blooming under her ribs as the truth of it settled deep, unavoidable. Isha’s pain, her anger, all of it made sense now in a way Jinx hadn’t been willing to accept before.

It wasn’t just about what Isha overheard—it was about what she felt. The hurt she thought Jinx had caused, intentional or not.

Jinx slumped back against the booth, her fingers curling into fists atop the worn table. “I didn’t mean for her to think that,” she mumbled, her voice quieter now, edged with regret. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Vi leaned forward, her voice softer.

“I know you didn’t, Powder. But the way Ekko handled it? It wasn’t about not trusting you. I know it doesn’t feel that way—and I know how you feel about Cait—” she paused, like she wasn’t fond of the reminder. “But it was about making sure Isha stayed somewhere she’d feel loved, safe… wanted. He knew how much that mattered, ‘cause he lived it. And you—and he loves you.”

Jinx blinked hard, her gaze dropping to the table. Her throat burned, and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

She knew Ekko loved her, but for the first time in her life, Jinx wondered in what way he felt it.

“God, that savior complex is getting’ ridiculous,” she laughed.

Vi’s brows pinched, but she didn’t argue. Instead, after a beat of silence, her lips curved into a sly smirk. “So… you kissed him in the bathroom that night.”

Jinx’s head snapped up, her wide eyes meeting Vi’s knowing ones. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. “What—"

Her sister just laughed. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Your lipstick was on his mouth—”

“That was wine—”

“ Powder ,” Vi deadpanned. “Can you be serious?”  

Finally, she dropped her head into her hands with a groan. “Okay. We kissed. But that’s irrelevant—"

“Is it?” Vi brought her hands to her chest. “Because I’m pretty sure that changes everything—”

“Okay,” Jinx groaned, desperate to cut her off. “Can we not talk about this shit.”

She’d been trying to avoid the reality of what that kiss would change. All she knew was that she wanted to kiss him. And sleep in the same bed as him. And live with him. And raise Isha together…

Jinx wasn’t sure she wanted to address what that meant. “I’m supposed to be mad at him, anyway,” she mumbled.

Vi tilted her head. “Supposed to be…but are you still?”

Jinx scowled. She wasn’t sure.  

She was mad that he didn’t trust her. But…she also understood why he’d done it. Especially now, with the way Vi had put it.  

Still. She hated losing arguments.  

Thankfully, after Jinx took too long to reply, Vi didn’t care to press further.  

“Okay, forget I said anything…” she mumbled. Then later, “You hungry?”

The conversation quieted down afterward. Vi got them two sandwiches, and they ate an early lunch in what was mostly silence. Vi told Jinx all about the fact that Jayce’s date with Mel last night, and Jinx made a mental note to let Ekko know later.

Eventually, amidst the drone of silence, Jinx couldn’t help but ask, “did Cait really defend us?” Her tone was doubtful—Jinx didn’t really believe it. But Cait had said it with such conviction…

Vi’s eyes widened, like she hadn’t expected Jinx to bring it up again. She balled up her napkin, oil staining the white of it. “I mean, I wasn’t there but…yeah. I’m sure she did.”

Jinx bit her lip. Cait was a bitch. She was annoying. She’d grown up spoiled and privileged in ways Jinx would never understand. But she was…typically honest.

“Well, then…I’m not thanking her,” Jinx mumbled. “But I’ll give her this one thing.”

Vi smiled wide—wide than Jinx had seen all day. She almost wanted to take it back. This was not her accepting Cait. That’d never happen. She hoped Vi didn’t see it that way.  

“What about the fact that she loves me?” Vi asked—a teasing smirk tainted her mouth. “Doesn’t that count for something, too?”

Jinx grumbled.

“Okay. Two things—but nothing else!”

--

When Ekko walked into Isha’s room, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected.

Tears, mostly. For her to lash out, maybe—tell him to go away, revert to ignoring him.

But this he hadn’t expected: Isha sprawled on her carpet, cross-legged—Lepus in her lap and a bottle of Elmer’s glue in her hand. He caught her just in time. She was trying to glue Lepus’ ear back to her head, ready to pour thick heaps of glue onto Lepus’ baby blue fur.  

Ekko bolted forward. If that crap got on Lepus’ fur, there was no hope for her. An ear could be stitched back together, but he didn’t think Isha would appreciate Lepus with a fresh buzzcut.

“Woah!” Ekko plucked Lepus away from Isha’s lap—he snapped back suddenly, Isha baring her teeth at him, the motion instinctive. When she realized it was just him—remembered where she was—she scowled, the fear replaced by mere annoyance, irritation.  

“Hey, hey,” Ekko said. He kneeled to her level and held Lepus out of her reach. “Don’t shoot the messenger, kid. I’m just trying to help.”

Isha only glared, her small hands snapping up in sharp movements. Give her back.  

Ekko held Lepus higher, shaking his head. “Not if you’re about to drown her in glue. What’d she ever do to you?”

She didn’t seem pleased by the teasing, and Ekko plopped her back down into Isha’s lap in exchange for the glue. He positioned the bottle farther behind him, where Isha couldn’t so easily reach.

Isha paid him no mind. She was still trying to press Lepus’ ear back down to her round, tiny head, and an idea dawned on Ekko—a lightbulb turning on.

Maybe this was the olive branch he needed.

“I can fix her,” he said sullenly. “But you know, Jinx might do a better job—she’s got smaller hands.” He waved his fingers. “I bet she can weave a needle better than I can.”

That was a lie. He knew damn well his way around fixing things. But maybe this time, Jinx needed to do the saving.

Isha looked at him with big, cautious eyes—doubt creeped into her face. With stubborn hands she signed, want you to do it.

Ekko sighed. They’d come so close. And now it felt like they’d gone three steps back.

For a little, there was only silence. Then he cleared his throat. “You know,” he started, his tone light, casual, “when Jinx found out you were coming to live with us—before we even got accepted—the first thing she did was decorate your room.”  

Isha didn’t look at him, but her fingers twitched. Ekko took it as his sign to continue.  

“She picked out everything herself. The dresser, the paint, the bed, those stars on your ceiling—” he pointed up, and Isha’s gaze followed. There was no glow—too much sunlight pooling in from the mid-morning sun—but the stars stood still, regardless. “Even this carpet we’re sitting on! That’s all Jinx.”  

Isha looked back down. She caught his gaze, just for a little, and Ekko caught the softness there—right before she looked back down in her lap, fiddling with Lepus.

“You know, I told her to relax—told her she was going overboard, stressing herself out. But she didn’t care. I could tell she…” He trailed off, chuckling softly at the memory. “She wanted it to be perfect for you.”

Finally, Isha glanced at him, her eyes cautious but curious. Ekko caught the look and smiled.  

Isha’s hands moved hesitantly. Why?

“Why?” Ekko repeated, his smile widening. “Because she couldn’t wait for you to be here. Because she wanted you to be happy— still wants you to be happy.”  

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Because she loves you. And I know you’re hurt. But… I swear—swear on Lepus’ life—that she was never angry about you. She never didn’t want you. She’s just… scared.”  

Isha’s brow quirked. Scared?

Ekko dropped his hand into Isha’s, squeezing hard. “Of losing you.”

Isha’s frown deepened. She paused, as if processing. Eventually, she gently tugged her fingers from Ekko’s grip. Her hands stilled, then moved slowly. I don’t hate her.

“I know,” Ekko said. “But… I don’t think she’s so sure about that right now. So you gotta tell her, Bunny. You gotta talk to her.”

Isha hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Finally, she nodded, just barely.

Ekko grinned, ruffling her hair. The same relief from earlier—when Isha had come outside and asked him if she could help—found him again. He took in a breath, offering out a hand. “Now, come on. We’ve got a balcony to finish.”

 --

By four o’clock, they finished working.  

After picking out which pots were good enough to salvage, Isha helped him twine their old string of fairy lights to the railing. Ekko hid the slabs of wood he hadn’t yet sanded with an old rug—some stringy, yellow thing they kept in the storage bin.

The planters were empty, but Ekko figured he could get around to gardening after work tomorrow.  

For now, they deserved to rest.  

He set up their tiny, round metal table—their worn wicker chairs—and got Isha a Caprisun while he popped open the cap of a Corona. Together they sat, watching the cars whoosh by. Behind the wall of buildings, the horizon was a cloudless, stunning blue—the sun a yellow slice in the sky, and Ekko basked in its warmth.  

While he scrolled through the gardening subreddit, Isha had taken to drawing in an older coloring book she’d abandoned weeks ago. Lepus sat on the table, nestled by a bag of chips, her ear still hanging by thin, stringy threads. Isha hadn’t even started on her homework yet, but Ekko didn’t care to sour her mood. She’d only just started feeling any better.

Jinx had been gone for a while now, and just as Ekko was questioning if he should call her, the balcony door clicked open. For what felt like the millionth time that day, relief pooled into him.  

Jinx stepped outside, hands at her chest. Though her braids had come half-undone from the wind, she looked less tired than she did earlier—less burdened than when she’d first ran off—and Ekko knew well enough that meant she’d gone to see Vi.  

Despite the softened demeanour, she looked admittedly awkward as she hovered by the table, like she wasn’t sure if she still fit. Isha was looking up at her, and for the first time in days there was no animosity in her stare.   

“Hey,” Jinx mumbled, tugging the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. Her eyes shifted to Ekko, then Isha, then settled finally on Lepus’s half-mangled ear on the table. “Balcony looks nice.”

“Thanks,” Ekko stood and motioned to Isha. “Bunny helped me out a lot.”  

“Figures,” Jinx replied. Her eyes were low when she stared at him, and the smile on her mouth had gone coy. “You could’ve never pulled this off alone.”  

They were back to teasing, and Ekko had never been happier with her smart-ass mouth.  

There was a rustle. Isha had stood up, too—Lepus in her hands, muddled ear carefully pressed against her forearm. She held the toy up a little, right at Jinx. There was a shy look on her face—the kind he hadn’t seen since she’d first come to live with them. Can you fix her? After dinner?

Jinx blinked down, mouth agape, and for a while she said nothing. Ekko watched the disbelief dawn and fade from her face.  

Eventually, she managed. “Yes—yeah. Of course, kid.”

Isha nodded, her expression unreadable but not hostile. She stepped away, grabbing her book, and disappeared into the apartment.  

Jinx lingered by the doorway, her gaze trailing after Isha as she vanished inside. Ekko could see the tension in her shoulders slowly unwinding, like she’d just exhaled a breath she’d been holding for days.  

“She talked to you,” Jinx muttered. It sounded more like she was speaking to herself than to him.

Ekko nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. She’s starting to come around.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she crossed to the railing, leaning against it with her back to him. The sun painted her in soft yellows and oranges, and for a second, Ekko forgot the weight of the conversation that he knew was bound to come.  

“I get it, you know,” she finally said, her voice quiet but firm. Ekko only gaped. “I didn’t want to say it. I was hurt and I didn’t want to see past that pain but...” she shut her eyes, as if trying to pull herself together. “I get why you went to Cait. Why you did what you did.”  

He stepped closer, resting his forearms on the railing beside her. Everything in him ached to reach out and pry her to him. But he couldn’t. Not yet. “Powder…”

“I’m not saying I’m not still pissed,” she cut him off, glancing at him sideways. “Because I am. It felt like you didn’t trust me. Like you thought I’d screw it all up if I’d known.”  

He frowned, guilt etching deep into his features. That wasn’t the case at all.

“I should’ve told you. I know that now. But I was—I was scared, Jinx. Scared that if I told you, you wouldn’t have let me go to her for help.”  

“I wouldn’t have,” Jinx admitted without hesitation. She looked down, her fingers fidgeting with the chipped paint on the railing. “But... I’m glad you did. Isha’s with us because of it. And…I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”  

“I know,” Ekko mumbled. “Me neither.”  

Sometimes, it was hard to remember what was before . It’d only been months, but the time felt more like years. Like it’d always been the three of them and this tiny San Francisco apartment.

“You know I trust you, right?” Ekko managed. His hands were only an inch away from Jinx’s on the railing, and he brushed his pinky against hers. “More than anyone.”  

Jinx’s jaw clenched, a patch of blue hair brushing at her chin. “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”  

“But I do.” He drew her hand to his. She didn’t pull back.  

Her fingers were cold—always cold—and when he twined them with his own, it felt like something dislodged had clicked back into place. “You’re my—” best friend . Roommate. So much more than that.  

At the sudden silence, Jinx craned her neck to look at him. Their eyes met, and for the first time since the Gala, it was like they’d both processed the weight of what they’d done. Of what that meant—what it had to mean.

“Last night…” Ekko managed, voice raw. “Was that a regret, too?”  

He meant for it to be teasing—a witty callback—but the words slipped out as if desperate, serious.  

Jinx stiffened, her eyes narrowing like she was deciding whether to bolt or face him. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again. “No,” she whispered. He hardly caught the word. “The first one wasn’t either.”  

Ekko clenched his jaw. Her face was so close again, her breath fanning against his face—into his mouth. He wanted to lean in. To give in. To be selfish this once. Hadn’t he earned that?

But before he could, Jinx broke the silence. “But I don’t know what it means. Not yet.”

Ekko swallowed hard. “I don’t, either,” he admitted. “But… I know what it felt like.”

She didn’t reply, her gaze falling to the chipped edge of the railing. But she didn’t leave, either. Instead, she stayed there, dropping her head to his shoulder.  

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Guess we’ll have to figure that shit out,”

Ekko pressed his cheek against the crown of her head. “Guess so.”

Together, they watched the sun’s slow dip into the sky. And for the first time in days, Ekko felt that hope had bloomed like the spring.

--

They ordered a pizza for dinner, Jinx and Ekko too tired to even consider cooking. For the first time in a week, they all ate together. It wasn’t the usual easy chatter—it was quieter, more exhausted. But still, progress was progress.

As Ekko washed what little dishes they had, Jinx and Isha sat cross-legged on the couch, facing each other. Lepus sat, perched up on a pillow in Jinx’s lap while Jinx performed surgery with a thin, sleek needle she’d found from her stash.

Isha picked out her choice of thread from the array of colors Jinx kept in her desk cupboard. The blue she’d picked wasn’t identical to Lepus’ original powdery coat, but it’d have to do.

Apart from the distant sound of running water in the kitchen, they sat in a semblance of silence. The apartment was tainted in warm orange from the glow of their cornered lamp, the moon a silver crescent in the bay window.  

Jinx wasn’t sure if she should say anything. Things were almost going too well, and they were still fragile enough for her to easily break.  

But for things to get strong again, they’d have to be addressed. She was almost done with her handiwork, and soon she’d run out of time. Isha would run off with a newly fixed Lepus, leaving Jinx shadow of all unsaid words.  

“You know,” she mumbled finally. “When we were little, Vi used to say I was the best at fixing things—even the things I’d broken.”  

Isha looked up at her. She’d been keeping her gaze low—stuck to Lepus—hardly seeking Jinx’s face.  

Jinx let out a dry laugh, weaving blue thread through Lepus’ worn, familiar fur. “And I’ve been breaking lots lately, haven’t I?”  

Isha didn’t answer, but her hands had gone still in her lap.  

“Isha, listen to me.” Jinx needed to push forward. She set Lepus down onto the pillow in her lap, dropping her needle. “It was never that I didn’t want you, kid. I just—sometimes, it feels like all I ever do is lose people.”  

She swallowed hard. It wasn’t easy to be vulnerable. But Isha deserved the explanation.  

“And when I found out what Ekko did it felt like—like I lost him, in a way. His trust.” She bit her lip, and across the couch, she caught the gentle wobble of Isha’s chin. “And that’s what I was mad at. But… I know that’s not true. And he did what was right. For you. For us.”  

Then, slowly, Jinx reached out. She tugged Isha’s hands into her own and let out a breath when Isha didn’t pull away.

“And honestly, I was really scared,” she admitted. “Of losing Ekko. Of losing you— of messing up—breaking things in ways I couldn’t fix.” She motioned to Lepus in her lap, the needle still pierced in his stuffy ear.  

Isha’s chin continued to tremble, and she blinked rapidly, as if trying to steady herself. Jinx squeezed her hands, a desperate attempt of reassurance.  

“Scared of not being a good enough—” Jinx hesitated, the word mom catching in her throat. Her gaze darted away for a moment before she settled on a quieter, safer phrasing. “Not being good enough for you.”  

She let out a breath. “So, I guess, what I’m trying to say is that…I’m real sorry. And that I wanted you here. I still do.”  

Isha was staring at her hard—those eyes dissecting, always dissecting. As if she was trying to detect the truth. But admittedly, the truth was that Jinx cared so much—wanted her so much, wanted this family so much—that it scared her.  

She wanted her to stay. Wanted this to last. But she couldn’t say that. Not when Sky was still looking for elsewhere—somewhere better.

Slowly—cautiously—Isha tugged her hands away from Jinx. For a split second, Jinx almost thought she’d screwed it up. That Isha didn’t believe her. But then her hands moved. She drew a fist to her chest. Sorry, too.

Jinx shook her head, a sad, tiny smile peeling its way to her mouth. “No—no. You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. Then, after a beat, “Except maybe for when you kicked rocks at me—that was pretty mean.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Isha’s lips. She hardly showed teeth, but Jinx relished in the pride of it. She’d made Isha smile again for the first time in days, and that counted for more than anything else.

With steady hands, Jinx picked up Lepus. She worked her needle through the last corners of her ear, stitching the fabric together. The stitching was sleek, though the color was a shade too dark.  

“There,” she said softly, placing the bunny in Isha’s lap. “Good as new. She’s just got a cool scar now.”  

Isha’s hands hovered over Lepus for a moment, her fingers brushing gently over the stitched, blue ear. Then, without warning, she bolted forward, arms latching tightly around Jinx’s neck.

Jinx froze for a split second, her breath catching in her throat. But then her arms came up, wrapping securely around Isha’s small frame, holding her close. The tears Jinx had been holding back threatened to spill, and she pressed her cheek against Isha’s hair, her voice a shaky whisper.  

“My baby,” she murmured. She hoped the word carried all the weight of her apology. It wouldn’t undo the hurt, but maybe it’d stitch something back together.  

Isha didn’t reply, but her arms tightened around Jinx’s neck, her small body trembling slightly as she buried her face into hollow space of Jinx’s collarbone.  

They stayed like that for a while, Jinx swaying them slowly as if to soothe the both of them at once. This wasn’t fully healed, but this was a start.  

“Hey…” Jinx turned. Isha pulled back slightly, her arms loosening around Jinx’s neck, though her grip on Lepus remained firm. Ekko had stepped in the living room, the tiniest smile on his face. “Something tells me we’re due for a movie night. Been a while, don’t you think?”

The offer felt oddly normal—grounding, even—and Jinx couldn’t help but latch onto it.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice stupidly hoarse. “Think you’re right.”

Ekko walked to the couch, hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced between them. “What’re we watching, Bunny?” he asked, directing the question to Isha.

She clutched Lepus tighter, her eyes darting to Jinx before she signed, something funny.  

Yeah. Their kid was smart. They all needed the laugh.  

Chapter Text

Jinx was wiping the kitchen counter with a wet, worn rag when the call came. There was a stubborn stain from breakfast that clung to the porcelain tile—some thick, sticky patch of something. It wouldn’t come off, and Jinx groaned, scrubbing harder.

Somewhere in the living room, Ekko was readjusting the decorative pillows of their couch for what must’ve been the fifth time that morning. Isha was prodding away at her iPad by the dinner table, her hair pulled in two neat braids—nothing like its usual style, spilling with loosened strands.

Jinx could tell from the look on Isha’s face that her mind wasn’t in it. She loved weekends—two days off, free from school—but this one wasn’t the kind to keep her happy.

Jinx understood well enough.

Everything in the apartment was too clean. A foreign kind of clean. Jinx could’ve just suffocated in the cleanliness of it. The whole place felt plunged in that cheap, sterile smell of lemon Lysol. There wasn’t a chunk of dust at the corners where wall met floorboard—not even a smidge under the couch she’d vacuumed earlier.

Amidst the incessant buzzing at her thigh, Jinx hoped the caller would just hang up. But no, the noise persisted.

Sighing, she plucked her phone out from the pocket of her jeans—the nicest pair she owned; vintage Levi’s, sleek and blue-black, straight-legged. It was a late April Saturday, and had the day’s circumstances been different, she’d have opted for her usual pair of sweat shorts. But this was no ordinary morning.

Vi’s name beamed off the screen, accompanied by an older photo of her—one from before Cait. If anyone else was calling, she’d have sent ‘em straight to voicemail. She wasn’t feeling particularly chatty.

“Make it quick,” she grumbled, wedging the phone between an ear and a shoulder. “We’ve got company on its way.”

On the other line, Vi only chuckled. “Hello to you, too. Who’s visiting?”

Jinx clenched her jaw. The stain was gone, but she kept sweeping at the length of the counter regardless.

“Sky.” Her voice came tight. “A bi-monthly visit. Y’know how it is—can’t have a speck of dust around.”

Sky wasn’t picky—she wouldn’t pry Isha away for a cluttered countertop, for a smudged window. Still, Jinx liked to be…safe. She wasn’t safe with most things—was never safe with herself. But sometimes she still found herself in disbelief that the system ever placed Isha with them in the first place. That there was no quirk. No qualm from her past. That she hadn’t jinxed it.

There were dreams lately. They’d started last week. Nightmares that’d dug themselves out from creviced spots in her mind, looming. Dreams of someone—something—taking Isha away. Usually Sky. But sometimes it was other things, too. Monstrous things—things with claws and massive jaws. Things meant to haunt her.

Jinx would wake up with the duvet twined around her body like some softened, cocooned shell—damp and heavy and suffocating. She’d kick at herself ‘til the blankets stumbled off, ‘til they fell to the floor in a quiet, resounding thud.

Sometimes, when it got really bad, she’d creep into Isha’s room to be sure that her dreams were just that; dreams and nothing else. Nothing real. She’d comb her fingers through the soft strands of hair at Isha’s scalp—press a kiss to her temple—then dissolve away.

Falling back asleep was hard, especially on her own. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t—shouldn’t—let herself seek Ekko. They hadn’t slept in the same bed for weeks—not since the kiss.

For whatever reason, the idea of sleeping with him felt weird now. Like a boundary she wasn’t yet ready to cross. Which was stupid, really. They’d slept in the same bed for months—had started years ago. But now it was like…like it had to mean something. Something different. Something she wasn’t wanting to face.

“Ah, the social worker. Gotcha,” Vi said. Her voice was too cheery, and it snapped Jinx straight back to life. The faint sound of distant, crashing waves filtered in through the line. Typical Vi to spend a Saturday off at the beach—some early morning jog with Cait, she figured. “Well, don’t let her stress you out too much. She’s just comin’ to check in, right?”

Sure, that’s what it was meant to be. But lately, Jinx’s nightmares had done a good job at convincing her otherwise.

Jinx gripped the phone tighter. “Yeah, just checking in. Like my landlord ‘just checks in’ before hiking the rent.”

“’Course.” Vi snorted. “Anyway, that’s not why I called.”

Jinx rolled her eyes. “Figures.” Vi’s voice should’ve given it away. “What do you want?”

“Jeez, relax.” This time, Vi’s tone bordered on playful and firm. Jinx wondered if she regretted calling, regretted whatever it was she wanted to ask. “I’ve got a plan for tomorrow, ‘kay? Picnic on the beach. Me, Cait, you three. Thought it might be good for everyone to get out and get some fresh air.”

Right. Because that was exactly what Jinx needed right now, hardly a month after the whole gala ordeal; more Cait in her life. How would she traumatize Isha this time—let her in on another family secret? Call CPS?

“Can’t,” Jinx snapped. She pressed the rag down harder. That damn stain was finally coming off. “Have plans.”

“Really?” Vi said in a voice that meant you’re full of shit. “What kind of plans?”

Jinx shrugged. “Just…real crazy, busy plans.”

For a little while, all Jinx could hear was the distant chirp of seagulls—the crash of wave against sand. It was like she could feel Vi thinking—feel her trying to conjure up some kind of response. Something good enough to work.

Eventually, it came.

“Look, Powder, I’m not saying it’ll be easy, okay? I know you’ve got your stuff with Cait, and maybe Isha’s still not feeling too great about everything, but that’s exactly why you should come.” Vi gulped on the line. “I know we’ve been on Cait’s turf lately. So maybe it’s time we do something…casual. Something we all know. The weather’s gettin’ hot, and a day out at the beach could help clear everyone’s minds.”

Jinx paused, the rag still in her hand. They didn’t really have plans tomorrow—nothing more than lounging around like they usually did. And Jinx hadn’t gone to the beach in months…

Her gaze flickered toward Isha, who was slouched over her iPad, fingers absentmindedly scrolling. The light in her eyes wasn’t the same as it usually was; dulled by something Jinx couldn’t quite name. She knew well enough there was more on her mind than Sky’s visit—that, despite the two weeks of progress she’d made since Jinx had mended Lepus, she still wasn’t quite herself.

It tugged at her chest.

“Ekko’s gotta be up for it,” Jinx said reluctantly, testing the waters. She wasn’t giving in just yet. “And Isha, too.”

Vi tutted. “Please, Ekko loves the beach.” Jinx rolled her eyes, though Vi couldn’t see her. She knew that, obviously. He was her best friend. “And Isha’ll have a blast, even if she just needs some convincing. You know, let her bring Lepus, maybe promise her ice cream or something. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

Jinx exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. Maybe Vi had a point. Maybe getting out of the apartment and into the sun would help. Even if she was there.

“Fine,” Jinx muttered. She dropped the rag onto the counter, abandoning it. Her stain was gone. “We’ll come. But if Cait pisses me off, I’m leaving.”

“Deal,” Vi said, her voice lighter now, like she knew she’d won. Ugh. “Be there at noon tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jinx muttered. She hung up before Vi could say anything else—before she regretted it. She already was starting to.

She set her phone down on the counter and leaned against it, staring out at the living room. The apartment was spotless, practically gleaming, but it didn’t feel welcoming at all.

The sharp knock on the door came only seconds later, piercing through the silence. Hovering by the couch, Ekko stiffened. Jinx caught the sudden way his back straightened up beneath his blue, linen button up.

Sky.

At the dinner table, Isha had already abandoned her iPad, moving to stand. She wore a tight look on her face, her features pinched. She liked Sky—was never uncomfortable around her. But with each new visit, Isha grew warier, as if afraid of something…

Though Jinx was closest to the door, Ekko was the one who came over to open it. Sky wandered in looking how she always did: smiling, kind-eyed—though half-disheveled, like she hadn’t quite gotten enough sleep the night before. Her hair was spilling out of its bun, her glasses smudged with fingerprints. She smelled of outside air—of early morning wind and salty spring.

“Good morning!” she chimed. Isha had made her way over to the kitchen, now. She hovered by Jinx, leaning against the counter she’d just been cleaning. “Hi, Isha, how’ve you been, sweetie?”

Sky knew some ASL—just enough to understand the basics. Isha nodded, signing a small, Okay.

Jinx’s chest tensed, as if Sky would bounce back—like she’d sense that something was off, that Jinx was bad, that Isha had to leave. She reached behind her to clutch at the counter, nails digging beneath the tiles.

But Sky did nothing. Instead, her smile softened. She looked at Jinx and nodded reassuringly while she said, “Place looks great.” She glanced around, darting her gaze to Ekko. “You’ve really outdone yourselves.”

Next to her, Isha must’ve noticed Jinx’s grip. She leaned over a little, pressing into her side.

They’d been doing a whole lot better since their fight. While Isha wasn’t exactly herself, she seemed to seek out Jinx and Ekko out more than she ever had before—nestling close to them on the couch, always asking to play games together, wanting to help with dinner. Jinx wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew she didn’t mind it—not at all.

Walking over to the living room, Ekko gestured to the spotless couch he’d been fussing over all morning, acting like the pillows hadn’t held up a fight.   

“Figured we’d clean up. It’s no big deal.” He leaned against the dinner table with his arms crossed, trying to play casual. But Jinx knew better—knew him more than she’d ever known anyone, anything. He was worrying, too. “We just wanted to make sure everything was set for you.”

Sky nodded, her gaze landing briefly on Isha, who stayed pressed against Jinx’s side. Jinx could feel the girl’s small fingers curling into her sleeve, clutching suddenly, as if afraid she’d disappear.

Sky cleared her throat, forcing a wider smile. “Well, let me just do a quick look around and I’ll be out of your hair!” She must’ve sensed how badly no one wanted her around. Not that it was her. Just what she represented.

The visit was short. She mostly spent her time in Isha’s room, asking Isha questions about her toys, about school, about her health. Isha answered in quick, shortened bursts. She kept close to Jinx—to Ekko—as if worried Sky would just pick her up and carry her out.

Jinx tensed—she’d know, she’d had that dream before, too.

By the end of it, they hovered in the living room. Ekko and Jinx sat squarely on the couch—Isha close between them—while Sky pressed into their brown, cushioned sofa chair Jinx had thrifted months ago.

“Well, just as I expected, everything seems in order!” Sky said, adjusting her glasses. “Isha, I already think I know your answer, but it’s customary to ask, so…do you like it here? Are you feeling comfortable?”

The question came every time—phrased exactly that way—and just like every other time, Isha hardly hesitated. She gave a quick nod, her hands moving in soft, decided gestures. Yes. I like it here.

Jinx breathed out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding that in. Ekko reached out to drop a kiss to the top of Isha’s head.

Sky smiled—it was warm and whole, but Jinx caught the faintest trace of something in her expression. Something… sad.

“Isha’s made a lot of progress since coming here. It’s wonderful to see.”

“Yeah, she’s been doing great,” Ekko chimed in, his voice steady—certain. “She’s been working hard on her reading and math. Even started helping me out with the garden. Ain’t that right, Bunny?”

Isha’s cheeks grew pink, just a little, and Jinx saw the faintest flicker of pride in her expression. It was small, but it was there.

“That’s wonderful,” Sky cooed. There it was again. That fucking tone. She glanced at her notes before snapping the file shut. “Well, it seems like things are going wonderfully here. And…I suppose I’ll continue looking for Isha’s forever family….”

The room just stilled. She phrased it like a statement, though Jinx heard the way it felt more like a question—like something she needed an answer for. Like she wasn’t sure—like Isha had become more than temporary. Like Sky felt it, too.

Jinx’s hands clasped into fists at her lap. No. No, she wanted to scream. Isha belonged here. But she shot a look over at Ekko, and despite the hardened, sullen look on his face, he wasn’t saying anything, either. Between them, Isha was looking down at the ground—she’d cowered into herself a little, suddenly cautious.

Jinx wasn’t the kind to stay quiet, but this wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted to worsen—not the kind of thing she wanted to break. And God knew how easily these things broke.

Eventually, after nothing but silence, Sky cleared her throat and stood. Her face had grown tense, too, like she’d expected one of them to correct her—to lunge and deny it.

“Well, I’ll be in touch. If anything comes up, you’ve got my number.”

Jinx forced a tight smile, nodding once. “Yeah. Gotcha.”

She stood, too, and Ekko joined her. Isha stayed on the couch, Lepus in her lap. She wouldn’t look up.

Sky crouched down to Isha’s level one last time, her smile warm. “Take care, sweetie. Keep being your amazing self, okay?”

Isha hardly shrugged, her grip on Lepus only tightening as Sky made her way out. Ekko followed her, exchanging a few more pleasantries before shutting the door behind her.

Jinx strayed toward the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. She wished it was vodka.

The click of the lock echoed out—the apartment suddenly achingly silent. On the couch, Isha had reached for her iPad again, but Jinx could tell she wasn’t doing anything with it—her hands hovered at the screen, though they didn’t quite touch.

Jinx watched as Ekko wandered over, plopping himself next to Isha. She could tell he was trying to force some excitement to his tone, but Jinx knew better.

“So, Bunny,” he said, “we’ve got all day now. Anything fun you wanna do?”

If Isha moved—motioned for anything at all—Jinx didn’t catch it. She made her way closer, sitting at the coffee table with her hands clutching that cold, icy glass.

“We can go to the park! Or we can go watch a movie at the theatre. We’ll even let you put some M&M’s in the popcorn and everything,” Ekko offered. This time, Jinx caught Isha’s shrug. Ekko looked over at Jinx, eyes desperate for her to help him out—for her to say anything.

Jinx sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Vi called earlier,” Jinx started, her voice careful. “She’s dragging us to the beach tomorrow.”

Isha glanced up at her, curious but hesitant. Her small fingers paused over Lepus’s ear. She didn’t move, but her eyes narrowed slightly, like she didn’t know if she liked the idea. Jinx wasn’t exactly sure where Isha stood on Cait and Vi after the gala. They hadn’t exactly been at fault—not like Cait’s parents had—but if Isha tied them down to that whole fiasco, Jinx couldn’t blame her.

“It’s just a picnic,” Jinx added quickly, trying to keep her tone light. “You know, some sand, maybe ice cream. She said you could bring Lepus.”

“Hey, that sounds fun,” Ekko said, seemingly desperate to ease the tension they’d just been drenched in. He leaned in with a clown-like grin. Jinx could’ve laughed—he played the role so easily sometimes. The role of…dad.

She wasn’t sure if that’s what Ekko was—not really. But she’d caught herself thinking it much more lately, with Isha so often spending time with him on their balcony, tending to their shiny, new garden. She saw it in the way he taught her, guided her, kept her entertained—kept her safe.

The thought made her chest ache—made her love him in ways she hadn’t loved him before. Or maybe she had; maybe she’d just been waiting to figure it out.

“It’s the beach, Bunny.” He reached out to brush at a strand of Isha’s hair. “Fresh air, waves, maybe a sandcastle or two. We can even grab ice cream after. Sound good?”

Isha tilted her head, her expression still unreadable. She clutched Lepus tighter, her brows furrowing as if weighing the idea. She’d never mentioned disliking the beach before. She’d lived by it before they came to her, with that lady Babette. Jinx wasn’t so fond of the water herself—maybe Isha wasn’t, either.

Jinx hesitated. “Look, we don’t have to swim or anything,” she said, her voice softer now. “We’ll just hang out. You can bring whatever you want—Lepus, your iPad…a massive water gun to chase Caitlyn with.”

That got a smile out of her, though she still wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.

For a long moment, Isha didn’t move. Then, slowly, she gave a small nod, her grip on Lepus loosening just a little.

“There we go,” Ekko said with a grin, ruffling Isha’s hair. “It’ll be fun. Trust me.”

Jinx leaned back, crossing her arms as she let out a quiet breath.

“Alright,” she muttered. It felt like she was bracing herself. “Beach it is.” She glanced at Isha and added, “But if you change your mind, you tell us, okay?”

Isha nodded again, this time a little firmer. Jinx almost wished Isha wouldn’t want to—would change her mind, give her a reason to back out.

But Vi had said this might help. And while Jinx didn’t always care to admit it, Vi was good at making things better—knowing how to make things help her. So maybe she was right—maybe the beach would be good.

--

That Sunday morning, when Ekko crept outside to water his herbs, he already knew what was coming; regret.

The sun was a scorching blister in the sky, pouring heat down over all it touched, reflecting at car heads and burning the sleek, black pavement of the street.

The world was a furnace; dry and ablaze. Which meant, naturally, that the beach would be exactly how everyone hated it—sardined, packed, swarming with families desperate for that salty brush of windy air.

He busted their ancient AC to life, smacking at the base of it, then plugged a fan into an outlet in the living room, hoping it’d all do something. Still, when Jinx came into the kitchen that morning, Ekko hardly had to brace himself.

“Holy shit,” she groaned, “it’s a fuckin’ sauna in here.” She poured hot, steaming ribbons of coffee over a mountain of ice cubes in her mason jar. Her braids were practically undone—thick strands of blue pooling everywhere—and the thin, cropped shirt she wore rode up when she reached for a bowl in the cupboard, revealing the taut, creamy skin of her stomach.

Ekko gulped, averting his gaze. Yeah. It was hot in here.

“Well, at least I got the AC to work,” Ekko mumbled. He was leaning against the counter, sipping at a cold, crisp glass of water. Sweat was threatening to bead at his forehead, and he watched as Jinx gulped down her coffee—no milk, no sugar, all bitter taste. She dropped her jar down, then wandered over to him.

For a little, all she did was stare—wide, blue eyes gushing, seeking. Then—out of nowhere—she pressed forward, twining her arms around his waist and burying her face into the bare skin of his collarbone. Ekko stifled a gasp.

Despite the heat, her nose was still piercingly cold. It felt nice against him. He pressed his cup down to the counter, reaching out to put his hands at her back. His fingers slipped under her shirt—the flimsy thing too short, anyway—and the touch turned his throat dry.

Things hadn’t been the same since the gala, that was sure. Being alone with Jinx was…different now. They hadn’t kissed since that second time—hadn’t slept in the same bed for too damn long—but it felt almost like Jinx had been compensating.