Jinx would be lying if she said opening up to Ekko made her feel instantly better. If anything, it left her feeling exposed, raw, as though all the cracks she'd worked so hard to seal had suddenly been pried open. The walls she had built over years of pain and isolation crumbled, and what lay beneath was overwhelming, fragile, and unrelenting.

She found herself breaking down more often, unable to hold back the tidal wave of emotions she'd kept buried. On those days, she'd collapse into Ekko's arms, her sobs uncontrollable, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Ekko never turned her away. Never.

He would hold her quietly, his arms steady and grounding as his hand gently brushed the back of her head. He never pressed her for words, never tried to fix her with platitudes or advice. He just waited, patient and steady, until she was ready to speak.

Her therapist—one she'd reluctantly started seeing again at Ekko's urging—had told her this was normal. The unraveling, the heightened sensitivity, even the waves of overwhelming vulnerability. "Healing isn't linear," they had reminded her. Jinx had scoffed at the words at the time, but somewhere deep down, she hoped they were right.

So the pattern continued. She cried. Ekko held her. And slowly, piece by piece, she began to feel the faintest hint of relief, even if it was fleeting.

Then the call came.

Babbette's voice on the other end of the line was bright, almost celebratory. "The house is ready," she'd said. "You can move back in anytime."

For a moment, Jinx froze, the words sinking in. Her house—her own space—was waiting for her. She should've felt happy, relieved even. And yet, a strange pang tugged at her chest.

Her gaze drifted around Ekko's apartment, her eyes landing on the small, familiar touches that had made it feel like home these past weeks. His jackets slung over the back of the chair. The faint smell of coffee that lingered in the air. The quiet sense of safety she had found within these walls.

For a fleeting moment, she considered staying. Staying in this makeshift haven where she didn't feel so overwhelmingly alone. But Ekko had been gently, yet firmly, against the idea.

"It's just a couple doors down," he'd said with a soft smile, his eyes full of quiet confidence. "I know you can do it."

His words struck something deep within her. The trust and belief in his eyes seemed to wrap around her, reassuring and firm. She couldn't bring herself to argue against him, not when he looked at her like that.

So, she had agreed, even though the thought of leaving his apartment filled her with equal parts dread and determination.

Which brought her to this moment. She stood in front of Ekko's doorway, her final duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Across from her, Ekko leaned casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed, but his face betrayed a tinge of sadness, maybe even longing.

"You've got everything?" he asked, his voice steady, though his eyes lingered on her as if memorizing the moment.

Jinx nodded, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. "Yeah, this is it."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings.

"Well," Ekko finally said, pushing off the doorframe and rubbing the back of his neck. "You know where to find me. If you need anything."

Jinx hesitated, her lips twitching as if to say something, but the words refused to come. Instead, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Ekko in a firm, sudden embrace.

Ekko froze for a heartbeat, clearly caught off guard, but he recovered quickly. His arms came around her, steady and warm, holding her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her cheek, and it made her want to linger just a little longer.

"You've got this," he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring. Then, almost absentmindedly, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the gesture so tender it made her heart twist painfully in her chest.

Jinx shut her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry. Not here, not now. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and pulled back, though her hands lingered on his arms for a moment longer than necessary.

"Thanks," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Always," Ekko smiled, the sadness still present in his eyes but softened by warmth. "I'm not going anywhere."

Without another word, she turned and made her way toward her door. The short distance—barely two meters—stretched endlessly, her every step feeling heavier than the last. Her fingers tightened around the strap, as if holding on to it could anchor her against the unfamiliar ache settling in her chest.

She reached the door and hesitated, one hand resting on the knob. For a moment, she thought about turning back, about saying something, anything, to fill the silence now settling like a thick fog between them. But she couldn't find the words.

With a quiet exhale, she opened the door and stepped inside her apartment. The sound of it closing behind her echoed faintly in the stillness, leaving her alone in the newly renovated apartment.

The fresh scent of paint greeted her, sharp and clean. She drew in a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs, and with it came a newfound resolve. One step at a time—that was her plan. And right now her first step was to make the space her own again.

To do that, she'd need to undo its pristine order. The place was too perfect, too neat, too new. It didn't feel like hers yet. A soft, almost mischievous smile tugged at her lips as she imagined the things she could introduce to make it right.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

She took another step into the apartment, the faint smile still lingering as the possibilities unfurled in her mind. One step at a time. That was all she needed to do.

—

Ekko stood motionless in front of his closed doorway, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He didn't know how long he stayed there, just staring at the door as if willing it to open again. A small, stubborn part of his heart hoped—no, wanted—her to come back, to step through that door and decide to stay in his space, where he could see her, be there for her.

But he knew better.

He clenched his fists briefly before forcing them to relax. Letting her go wasn't easy—would never be easy—even just a couple doors down, but he knew it was what she needed.

Ever since she'd opened up to him, showing him parts of herself she rarely let anyone see, it had become painfully clear. He couldn't always be her shield, her anchor, her everything. As much as he wanted to protect her, to be her safe place, it wouldn't be fair—not to her, and not to himself. Relying on him for everything would only hold her back, trapping her in a cycle of dependence she didn't deserve.

Jinx wasn't a fragile thing to be coddled or a child to be guarded against the world. She was capable of standing on her own two feet. She had to find her own way, rediscover her independence, and rebuild her life on her terms. Keeping her tethered to his presence, no matter how comforting it might be for them both, would only stunt her growth.

And she'd asked him, plainly and honestly, not to do that. Not to protect her to the point of smothering her. Trusting her to make it on her own wasn't just the right thing to do—it was the only thing he could do.

"It's what's best for her," he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud might make it easier to accept.

But the ache in his chest remained, a dull, persistent reminder of just how much he missed her already.

With a sigh, Ekko finally pushed himself away from the doorway, the weight of the silence in the apartment pressing down on him. He wandered toward the dinner table, pulling out his chair and sinking into it.

His eyes drifted to the empty seat across from him, and a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It felt strange—wrong, even—to see it vacant after so many nights filled with her laughter, her teasing, and even her grumbles about the day.

Ekko leaned back in his chair, fingers tracing absent patterns on the table's surface. "Guess it's just me again," he murmured, though the words offered no comfort.

For the first time in weeks, the apartment felt too quiet. Too empty.

But another part of his heart was glad for her—and even proud of her. He could see her determination, her resolve to heal, to love herself better. That thought alone gave him the strength to push past the ache in his chest and the more selfish, deeper urges that whispered for her to stay.

Ekko ran a hand through his hair and let out a quiet sigh. If she was strong enough to take this step for herself, then he needed to be strong enough to support her from a distance. That pride he felt for her, the belief in her, outweighed his own longing.

He would be there for her when she faltered, when she needed a place to rest, or a moment to lean and catch her breath. That was his role, his place, on her road to healing.

And if that was all he could offer her for now, then he'd give it willingly. Without hesitation. Because in the end, it wasn't about what he wanted—it was about what she needed.

Besides, he was certain he wouldn't have to wait too long. He could already picture her bursting into his apartment with that energy only she could bring—restless, chaotic, and just impossible to ignore.

A faint smile tugged at his lips at the thought.

—

Ekko stood in the doorway of Jinx's apartment, a duffel bag slung loosely by his side, watching as Jinx scurried around like a whirlwind, frantically trying to make space in her spare room. Boxes were being shoved aside with little regard for their contents, and the mess seemed to grow by the second.

He fought the urge to groan. "You said you'd have the room ready."

"Okay, to be fair," Jinx shot back, pushing another box into an already crowded corner, "I'd say this is your fault for not reminding me."

"Oh, so this is my fault," Ekko gasped in mock outrage, raising an eyebrow. "Even though I reminded you just last week?"

"Should've told me yesterday," Jinx said with a shrug, her arms bent at odd angles as she gestured vaguely to the chaos around her.

Ekko sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know you could've started this a week ago."

"And you could've offered to help," Jinx quipped without missing a beat, though her grin betrayed her playful tone.

"It's my fault for not doing it myself," Ekko muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he set his bag down.

Jinx paused mid-motion, turning to face him with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You know," she began, a smirk tugging at her lips, "we could just forget about the spare room."

Ekko's brow furrowed at the suggestion. "Scar and his family are here for the holidays. You're not seriously suggesting I sleep on the couch for two weeks."

Jinx's smirk widened into a full-blown grin. "Oh, I'm not suggesting that."

Ekko tilted his head, confused, until her words landed: "We could just share my room."

His body stiffened, his breath catching slightly as the suggestion hit him hard.

The past couple of months since they'd shared their first kiss had been a delicate balancing act for him. He'd worked hard to respect her pace, not wanting to pressure her when she was still finding her footing. Their time together had been filled with tender moments—chaste kisses, lingering embraces, stolen smiles—but nothing more.

So, the thought of sharing Jinx's bed platonically sent his mind spiraling. His throat suddenly felt dry, and he wondered if it was possible to combust from his pent up frustrations.

"Hey, space boy."

Jinx's voice snapped him out of his daze as her fingers snapped in front of his face, her other hand resting on her hip.

"You in there?" she teased, her grin tilting slightly, equal parts amused and exasperated. "You look like I just asked you to build me a rocket or something."

Ekko blinked, shaking himself back to reality. "Sorry, what?"

She rolled her eyes, leaning closer with a mock-concerned expression. Her fingers found his chest, making a show of walking up towards his collarbone, the light touch sending a warm shiver through him. "You're not scared of a little proximity, are you?"

Ekko's breath caught, and for a brief moment, he forgot how to speak. Her teasing tone, her fingers brushing against him—everything felt too close in a way that made his heart skip. He stood frozen, fighting to keep his composure as Jinx leaned in even closer, her breath warm against his skin.

She was inches away now, her eyes sparkling with mischief as her lips hovered just a fraction too far from his. "I think we could use being a little closer, don't you think?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut—but in the best way imaginable. His mind whirled, his pulse quickened, and he fought to keep his cool.

"Jinx…" he started, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. But she silenced him with a single finger, the tip brushing softly against his lips.

"You're thinking too much again," she teased, her voice laced with a playfulness that sent shivers down his spine. Pressing her forehead against his, she added, "You know, you're not the only one with a lot on their mind."

Ekko swallowed hard, the heat of her closeness making it impossible to think straight. The last months of frustrations seemed to spill out all at once, making him realize how much more he had wanted—needed—her, here, like this. Yet a knot of hesitation twisted in his stomach. Was this the right time? Were they ready for what came next?

Before doubt could take hold, Jinx tilted her head, her lips brushing lightly against his ear. "What do you say, Ekko?" she whispered, her voice a mix of tease and challenge. "Wanna see how close we can really get?"

His heart thundered in his chest, and before he could muster a response, her lips pressed softly against his. For a moment, his mind blanked, the world narrowing to the warmth and softness of her kiss. Then, as if instinct had taken over, his hands found the small of her back, pulling her closer. The hesitation, the questions—they disappeared like smoke in the wind.

Jinx's arms slid around his neck, her fingers brushing the nape as she pulled herself into him. It spurred him on, and he held her tighter, his chest pressing against hers. Her lips moved with an urgency, testing, exploring, pushing boundaries, and it made his heart race faster than it ever had.

Their kisses grew hungrier, deeper. Lips chased and nibbled, breaths mingling, until she parted her lips ever so slightly. Ekko hesitated only for a moment before his tongue carefully brushed against hers. She froze at the unfamiliar sensation, just long enough for him to worry, but then her hands tangled eagerly in his hair, her fingers gripping and tugging as she met him with equal passion.

It wasn't until she pulled back that Ekko realized how lost he'd been in her. He almost groaned at the sudden absence, but her playful smirk stopped him. Her lips were red, her breath a little ragged, and she looked at him like she had all the power in the world.

Jinx stepped back, the loss of her warmth jolting him. She turned, strolling toward her room with an almost lazy sway before glancing back at him over her shoulder. "So," she drawled, her voice sultry, "you gonna join me and pick up where we left off, or are you planning to clean the room all by yourself, little man?"

Ekko didn't need any more convincing. His feet were already moving.

—

Jinx shifted uneasily in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve as her eyes darted between Ekko and Vi sitting across from each other in the Vi's living room. She bit her lip, tension knotting her stomach as Vi's sharp gaze zeroed in on Ekko. His own eyes were wide, flickering with anxiety, but he held his ground.

"Little man," Vi began, her voice low and tight, the strain in it setting Jinx even further on edge. "I hear you're shacking up with my little sister."

Ekko cleared his throat, the sound loud in the tense silence. "Well," he said carefully, "we don't exactly live together—more like… close neighbors."

"Same fucking difference," Vi snapped, her tone sharper than Jinx had expected. The sudden edge in her voice made Ekko sit bolt upright, his back stiff as a board.

The silence seemed to hang, charged and electric. Her eyes darted to the fidgeting Ekko before her lips parted to try to mediate the situation, but she didn't get to start.

Vi suddenly threw her head back, laughter bursting from her like a clap of thunder. She leaned forward, clutching her sides as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "Oh, man!" she managed between laughs. "You should see your faces!"

Jinx let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her shoulders sagging in relief. "Seriously, sis!" she exclaimed, glaring at her sister. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

Vi smirked, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms, her laughter still bubbling in her chest. "What? You think I'd actually go all big-sis protective mode on you? I mean, come on, I know you can handle yourself." She shot Ekko a sly grin. "And I've got a pretty good read on the kid here."

Ekko, still looking like he'd been through a whirlwind, managed a shaky chuckle. "You've got a… unique way of showing it."

Vi shrugged, her grin widening. "Gotta keep you on your toes, little man. If you're gonna stick around Jinx, you'll need thicker skin anyway."

Jinx rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "You're the worst, Vi."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too, powder keg," Vi teased, giving Jinx a wink before turning back to Ekko. "Seriously, though. Treat her right, or we'll be having a real conversation." She pointed to her fist as she spoke the last line.

Ekko nodded, his usual confidence returning. "I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."

Vi studied him for a moment, then nodded in approval. "Good answer." She reached for her drink and raised it in a mock toast. "Welcome to the family, Ekko."

Jinx groaned, her head hitting the table with a thud. "You're impossible."

"And proud of it," Vi quipped with a laugh, her playful demeanor still intact. But as her gaze flicked back to Ekko, her expression softened. The teasing grin gave way to something gentler, quieter. "I mean it, though," she said, her tone warm and sincere. "I'm glad it was you, Ekko."

Ekko blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but he smiled back, his voice steady. "Thanks, Vi. That means a lot."

Jinx peeked up from the table, her cheeks tinged pink, and muttered, "Alright, can we stop with the mushy stuff now? It's weird."

Vi's laugh echoed through the room, her smirk firmly in place. "Never, Blue. This is just the beginning."

Jinx rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan before tilting her head toward Vi. "Where's your wife, anyway? It's Christmas Eve."

For a fleeting moment, Vi's smirk faltered, replaced by a faint frown. She shrugged it off quickly, though, crossing her arms. "Working for the Crown does that to you."

"I thought courts were closed for Christmas?" Ekko chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

"They are," Vi replied with a sigh. "But that doesn't mean a Crown attorney gets to take a break. Cases to prep, filings to review—stuff like that. Still, she promised she'd be here soon, so…" Her voice trailed off, but the faint trace of hope lingered.

As if on cue, the sound of the front door opening drew their attention. The faint shuffle of shoes being removed echoed from the hallway, followed by deliberate footsteps making their way toward the living room.

Caitlyn appeared in the doorway, wearing a long raincoat that dripped faintly from the winter drizzle outside. But it was the sweater beneath that stole the show—an ugly grandma Christmas sweater adorned with clashing patterns of reindeer, snowflakes, and a pale white star at the center.

Jinx blinked, caught off guard. She was so used to Caitlyn's polished, serious demeanor that this felt like seeing a completely different person. It was… disarming, strange enough to halt the teasing comment that had been forming on her lips.

Vi was the first to break the moment. Practically launching herself off the couch, she enveloped Caitlyn in a hug that knocked the faint drizzle off the raincoat and onto the floor. The sudden burst of affection pulled a warm smile from Caitlyn, one so soft and genuine it seemed to melt the tension that had lingered in Vi's voice earlier.

Jinx watched the reunion silently from the couch, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. It wasn't the same sharp ache she used to have, the one that felt like it might rip her apart, but a duller, quieter discomfort.

Ekko's hand squeezed hers gently, his silent reassurance grounding her like a lifeline. Jinx's shoulders eased slightly, and she took a slow breath, focusing on the steady warmth of Ekko's presence beside her.

"Welcome home," Vi said as she pulled back from the embrace, her voice carrying a soft fondness. "I'll go set the table."

Caitlyn nodded, her gaze following Vi as she glanced back briefly before disappearing into the kitchen. The brief quiet left in her absence settled over the room.

"Jinx," Caitlyn greeted with a small nod, her tone polite but neutral, as if carefully treading a line neither of them wanted to cross just yet.

"Cait," Jinx replied, her voice tight, the strain slipping through despite her attempt to keep it steady.

The air felt charged, an unspoken tension flickering between them. Ekko, as if sensing the subtle shift, rose to his feet with an easy confidence, breaking the quiet before it could settle too deeply.

With an outstretched hand and a warm, genuine smile, he introduced himself. "I'm Ekko. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Caitlyn blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the gesture, but quickly recovered. She reached out to shake his hand, her expression softening slightly at his unassuming demeanor. "Caitlyn," she replied, her tone warming. "It's nice to meet you, Ekko."

Jinx almost let out a relieved sigh at the tension leaving her shoulders.

Gratefully, the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Jinx could almost say she enjoyed it—almost. What made it bearable, and maybe even pleasant, was because Ekko and Caitlyn hit it off. Their conversation flowed naturally, with Ekko's easy charm balancing Caitlyn's composed nature.

It left Jinx free to sit with Vi, who chatted animatedly about anything and everything, filling the air with her energy. For once, Jinx felt she could relax without the constant weight of navigating strained relationships. She let herself smile at Vi's jokes, nodding along as her sister recounted memories from their past with the kind of warmth only family could summon.

And for the first time, as she left the couple's shared home, she didn't feel weighed down, like she was dragging her feet through lead. The suffocating sensation that always came after seeing Vi wasn't there. It wasn't gone entirely—there was still an ache, still a dull pang—but it wasn't sharp or unbearable.

It wasn't bitter.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Ekko's voice cut through her thoughts, his tone light and teasing.

Jinx gave a nonchalant shrug. "Could be worse, I suppose."

Ekko huffed, opening the passenger door for her before moving around to the driver's side. "Couldn't be better, you mean."

Jinx slid into the car, the familiar scent of the interior grounding her. She waited for Ekko to settle in beside her, the engine rumbling softly to life. When he did, she leaned back in her seat, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

"Okay, let's not get carried away, buster," she teased, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

Ekko shot her a grin, his eyes flicking to her for a moment before checking the mirrors. "Admit it—you had a decent time."

She tilted her head, pretending to ponder. "I guess… it didn't completely suck," she conceded with a dramatic sigh.

Ekko grinned, shifting the car into gear after making sure she was buckled in. "One step at a time."

"One step at a time," Jinx repeated as her gaze turned towards the window as the car pulled out. She didn't say anything for a while, watching the passing lights blur into streaks of color, letting the steady rhythm of the car's movement settle her. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, more sincere.

"Thanks… for tonight," she murmured, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Ekko's grip on the wheel tightened for a fraction of a second, a brief moment where his eyes met hers, but he didn't break his focus on the road. His smile was warm, understated. "Anytime."

Jinx smiled back, a genuine one, the kind that reached her eyes. And in that quiet moment, with the hum of the engine filling the space between them, she felt something settle inside her—a quiet reassurance. She didn't have it all figured out, and not everything felt perfect, but that was okay. And maybe that was enough.

—

Ekko sat back in the armchair of his apartment, his gaze soft as he watched Jinx hold Ryan. She was completely absorbed in the little guy, her smile wide and her eyes full of wonder as she gently rocked him in her arms. The sight filled him with something warm in his chest, a quiet happiness he hadn't known.

"You're whipped," Scar's voice broke the peaceful moment as he plopped down next to him, a teasing grin on his face.

Ekko rolled his eyes, but the small smile that tugged at his lips gave him away. "Shut up," he muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

Scar chuckled, nudging him with an elbow. "Look at you. You're gone for her."

Ekko shot him a side-eye, but he didn't have the energy to fight back. "Yeah, yeah," he sighed, his attention drifting back to Jinx, the affection in his chest softening further. "And I can kick you out anytime."

Scar raised an eyebrow, an exaggerated gasp of mock offense escaping him. "You would never kick out a mother and child."

Ekko smirked. "I never said anything about the mother and child."

Scar chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow, this is all our years of friendship amounts to? Can't even make fun of my friend for being whipped."

Ekko snorted but reached for his glass, taking a sip. As he did, his eyes met Jinx's, and the sight of her—calm and content with Ryan—was enough to stop him in his tracks. Then he noticed the unmistakable glint in her eye. Something mischievous. Something that made him feel a little anxious.

"I want one," Jinx said, her voice casual as she continued to rock the baby.

Ekko choked on his drink, spluttering and trying to catch his breath. Scar, clearly unable to contain himself, let out a loud, roaring laugh.

Ekko cleared his throat, his face drained of color. "I'm sorry?"

"I said I want one," Jinx repeated, her gaze never leaving the baby in her arms. "A baby."

Ekko's skin seemed to lose all color as his friend keeled over next to him.

THE END