Chapter Text
It was 11:47 p.m. when the fragile peace in Ekko’s bedroom was shattered by a voice—loud, uninvited, and maddeningly familiar.
“Ekko? Psst. Boy savior.”
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
God, so much for heroism.
The blue-haired girl grinned to herself, her footsteps soundless on the cold floor as she slid further into the realm of the slumbering. She leaned over him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.
His brow twitched, a brief flutter—a flicker that suggested his subconscious had started to notice the intrusion. But the rest of him? Dead to the world.
“He’s got a sixth sense,” she mused silently, the beginnings of a giggle stirring in her chest. “Too bad it’s not wired to a snooze button.”
“Oh, Ekko~” she purred, sweet like honey but with an edge of something darker as her finger darted out to poke him—once.
Twice.
Still, nothing.
She clicked her tongue, irritation flashing briefly before giving way to delight. “Really? You’re gonna make me work for this?”
Without warning, she grabbed his pillow and slammed it down against his head—harder than necessary, her glee spilling over in a muffled giggle.
His reaction was instant. Eyes snapped open, wide and startled like he’d been jolted from freefall.
“Jinx—what the fuck?” he croaked, voice rough with sleep.
“Hi!” she chirped, saccharine sweet, the very picture of innocence as she rocked on her heels. Her hair cascaded around her like an unruly sea, strands of blue falling to obscure her face in all the right ways.
She was draped in what he assumed was his old band tee; she tended to be one for thievery, and clearly, this time, his wardrobe had fallen victim to one of her raids.
“For Janna’s sake,” he groaned, yanking the pillow back and flopping onto it with a defeated sigh. “What time is it?”
“Time?” She tilted her head, a vision of feigned sweetness, as she watched him rub a hand over his face like it would magically wake him up.
He squinted at the alarm clock, its crimson digits burning into his vision, mocking him like a cruel jest. "11:48," he breathed, the disbelief heavy in his voice.
"I’ll have you know, time is just a social construct," she declared, the words tumbling out like some half-baked philosophy she’d been dying to share. She stretched lazily, then flopped onto the bed, claiming it like some royal throne. "A pointless rule society made to control people. Stick it to the man, Ekko."
“Jinx,” he deadpanned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Go. To. Bed.”
“Can’t,” she replied breezily, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m planning.”
“Planning?” His tone was flat, skeptical.
She sat up suddenly, her movements sharp and theatrical, the grin never leaving her face. “Survival, Ekko. We’ve got a crisis on our hands.”
“A crisis,” he echoed, his voice laden with exhaustion.
“Exactly. Snack shortage. Full-on apocalyptic level.” Her eyes glittered, her expression so deadly serious it bordered on absurdity. “We’re out of Doritos.”
Ekko stared at her, his disbelief tangible. “You woke me up at 11:48. Because of... Doritos?”
“Correct.”
Her shamelessness was almost admirable. Almost.
“Come on, Boy Savior,” she got right in his face, biting her lip to stop the smug grin from spreading across her face.
He pushed her face away gently, only earning a giggle in response. “Fine. Let’s go.”
⛧
The streetlights above them flickered, casting shattered halos of light onto the cracked pavement. The air was sharp, biting against Ekko’s skin as he pulled his jacket tighter, a feeble shield against the night’s quiet hostility. The warmth of his bed felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the cold and the steady echo of their footsteps.
Jinx, as always, moved ahead—untouched, unaffected, her breath curling in the air like smoke. The wind tugged at her hair, sending strands dancing like blue fire in the dim glow
“So, are we talking just Doritos?” he murmured, kicking a small stone out of the way as they made their way down the path. “Or do you have a full shopping list in that brain of yours?”
She flashed him a smirk, tilting her head as if in deep thought. “Twinkies. You’ve gotta be prepared for the apocalypse.”
“Twinkies?” He scoffed, shooting her a side-eye. “You’re going full doomsday prep, huh?”
Her eyes, luminous and electric beneath the streetlight’s flickering glow, slid toward him with something unreadable—something sharp, teasing, laced with a mischief that flickered just beneath the surface.
“You never know,” she hummed, leaning in, her voice dipping into something almost ominous, a whisper threaded with something both playful and unsettling. “The world could go down in a hail of candy wrappers and sugar dust. Best to be prepared.”
“You sound like you’re about to stage a coup.”
“This is no mere coup Ekko, it’s a snack revolution.”
They rounded the corner, stepping into the glow of a dying neon sign, its flickering light caught in an uneasy rhythm between existence and surrender. The store greeted them with the stale perfume of burnt coffee and the sickly embrace of artificial sweetness, a scent that clung to the air like a memory overstayed. It wasn’t inviting, not in the way that mattered, but Jinx never needed an invitation—only the promise of an open door.
“Alright,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up like an artist unveiling their magnum opus. “The essentials, Ekko. Doritos, Twinkies, ice cream, and, if we’re feeling extra, some chocolate.”
“It’s midnight, Jinx. Pretty sure there’s no emergency chocolate stash reserved for you here.”
A gasp escaped her lips, clearly feigning offense. “Are you seriously doubting my prosperity in the world of chocolate?
“Well, I’m just saying—”
Before he could finish, she flung the door open with a dramatic sweep, ushering them inside with the grandeur of someone stepping onto a grand stage. The store welcomed them with the low, incessant hum of flickering fluorescent lights, their glow casting long, ghostly shadows over shelves lined with forgotten goods—dusty, displaced, and worn by time. The air hung heavy with the scent of nicotine, mingled with whatever snack lay rotting, a distinctly commercially grotesque atmosphere that felt as if the place itself was caught somewhere between function and decay.
“Hi, Chuck!” Jinx beamed, her voice bright and laced with an energy that clashed with the dim, lifeless atmosphere. She waved enthusiastically at the cashier, a slumped figure with hair that looked like it had just been wrestled into submission and a permanent scowl etched across his face. Of course, his name was anything but Chuck. He barely looked up, his eyes glazed over like a man adrift in a fog, and grunted something unintelligible before returning to his vigil behind the counter.
Ekko offered a disheartened nod, pulling a shopping cart from the rack as he reluctantly trailed behind her into the snack aisle.
Jinx, as always, wasted no time—her hands a blur as she snatched the nearest bag of Doritos and tossed it into the cart with little more than a passing glance.
Ekko stood there, holding the cart like some overworked butler, resigned to his role. Jinx had declared, long before this particular night, that pushing the cart was a task far beneath her.
“What else, then?”
“Twinkies. Ice cream. Chocolate,” she recited with the solemnity of someone reading from a sacred text. “And, y’know, maybe some energy drinks. You never know when your survival instincts will need a little... boost.” She flashed him a grin, as if her list was nothing short of life-saving wisdom.
“Jinx, you do not need that. It’s not actually the end of the world.”
She froze mid-step, spun on her heel, and glared at him, the intensity of her stare enough to melt iron. “You don’t know that, Ekko. You’re not some kind of doom prophet.”
He watched her, amused, as she pivoted away, lips pursing into a pout while she turned her attention back to the shelves. She resumed her search, scanning for more absurd snacks—if you could even call half of them food.
Her fingers danced over the shelves, pulling everything and nothing at once—candy bars that looked too wild to be real, chips that seemed to defy the laws of flavor, and energy drinks in hues so unnatural they might’ve glowed in the dark. Ekko couldn't help but laugh under his breath at the absurdity of it all.
Snacks—if they could even be called that—piled into her arms: random candy bars, chips that barely qualified as food, and neon-colored energy drinks that looked like they’d been created in some twisted lab of a mad scientist. Ekko raised an eyebrow, half-wondering if they came with a warning label.
Then, as if she were a magician pulling something out of thin air, Jinx spun back to face him, an electric blue packet of Space Bites in her hand, her grin wide and daring.
“What in the fuck are they?” he asked, incredulous.
“These,” she proclaimed, “are fucking groundbreaking. Next-level snacking.”
“Groundbreaking?” he echoed, his tone dry enough to wither plants. “More like a crime against humanity. What even is that?”
“It’s Space Bites,” she said, lifting the packet higher, eyebrows arched like she was explaining rocket science to a toddler. “They’ve got space in the name, Ekko. Do you even grasp the implications? You can’t just leave galactic snacks abandoned on a shelf.”
He couldn’t help but snort. “It’s a crime against the entire food pyramid.”
“Food pyramid’s a scam anyway,” she retorted, tossing the Space Bites into the cart like they were gold.
While she was busy rummaging through the shelves for her next culinary abomination, Ekko quietly plucked the Space Bites out of the basket and slipped them back onto the shelf.
“Uh-uh,” Jinx said without even glancing behind her, already knowing her snack heist had been thwarted. “You’re real fucking sneaky, you know that?”
“Don’t play dumb, Space boy.” She pivoted on her heel, arms crossed, wearing that smirk of someone who’d just won a game he didn’t even know they were playing. “You think I didn’t notice you messing with my carefully curated selection?”
“Carefully curated?” He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the chaotic disaster of snacks in the cart. “This looks more like a cry for help.”
“Help?!” she squawked, stalking toward him, her mock offense practically dripping off her words. “This is a fucking masterpiece of modern snacking. You just don’t have the vision.”
“Vision?” he deadpanned, holding up the bag of Space Bites. “This shit’s a war crime.”
“Hey!” She snatched it back, clutching it to her chest like it was her firstborn. “That’s fucking flavor innovation, asshole.”
“It’s gonna be food poisoning, is what it’s gonna be.”
He watched her cradle the biohazard like it was her ticket to immortality, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but she cut him off, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.
“Don’t knock it till you try it, okay?” she said, giving him a pointed look. “You’ll thank me later when your taste buds ascend to a higher plane of existence.”
She glared at him but didn’t miss a beat. “You’ll see, Ekko. This is the future of food.” She tapped the bag as if it were some rare artifact, a treasure from another world. “You’ll be sorry when everyone’s eating Space Bites and you’re over here being a snack elitist.”
“I’ll be sorry when I’m in the hospital getting my stomach pumped.”
She shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, if you die from food poisoning, you’ll go out with a story. The ultimate sacrifice for snack innovation.”
“Right. Sure. It’s all about the legacy.” He shook his head, a mix of disbelief and reluctant amusement tugging at the corners of his lips.
After a few more minutes of reckless pillaging through the aisles, Jinx finally emerged victorious, her arms overflowing with trophies of artificial delight.
Twinkies, Doritos, ice cream, Space Bites, which Ekko had tried to surreptitiously put back at least five times, and an assortment of snacks so bizarre they’d probably end up in a cautionary tale.
They rolled up to the counter, and there was Chuck—not Chuck, as usual—looking like he was about two cups of coffee away from calling it quits on life.
"Heya, Chuck," Jinx grinned, draping herself lazily against a garish ad for some new nicotine gimmick. The display was an unnatural shade of blue, the kind that looked engineered in a lab, something more poison than product. Ekko half-expected her to swipe one just for the hell of it, considering her usual penchant for the flavoured air.
“It’s. Not. Chuck,” Chuck—not Chuck—gritted out through clenched teeth.
“Mhm, mhm,” Jinx nodded with exaggerated sincerity, clearly pretending to absorb the incredibly valuable information.
Ekko shot an apologetic glance from beside the blue-haired whirlwind, but what could he do? He was the one pushing the cart that might just accelerate Chuck’s early retirement.
“Too fucking young for this,” poor, unfortunate Chuck muttered as he started unloading the unholy pile of snacks with a resigned sigh.
⛧
“Those can’t be ethical,” Ekko muttered, side-eyeing her as she tossed another handful of Space Bites into her mouth.
The little things looked like they were engineered in a lab to cause a technicolor catastrophe.
Jinx grinned, her teeth and tongue stained the same electric blue as the packaging. “Ethics are bullshit,” she declared, sticking her tongue out at him—a fluorescent middle finger in edible form—before skipping down the sidewalk.
He quickened his pace to match hers, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Ethics, Jinx, are the glue that holds society together.”
She threw him a glance over her shoulder, thoroughly unimpressed. “Then society’s got a pretty crap glue gun.” With that, her steps turned light, almost gleeful—an airy, weightless rhythm that teetered on the edge of delirium. It might have been charming in a sun-drenched meadow, a scene from some idyllic daydream. But here, beneath the flickering streetlights at 12:29 a.m., it felt uncanny, as if she’d slipped free from the reels of a horror film, a specter dancing just beyond the grasp of reality.
“Jinx, stop eating those,” he warned, his voice edging on exasperation. “You’re gonna overdose or something.”
She halted mid-skip to give him a pout, exaggerated and theatrical. “No way in hell.”
“If you drop dead, I won’t even say I told you so.”
“Geez, dude, you’re gonna talk to dead people now? What are you, crazy?”
Ekko’s face twisted into a scowl, his brows knitting together like they were trying to form a safety net for his patience. Jinx, naturally, found this hilarious and took off ahead, her laughter ricocheting down the empty street.
Clearly, whatever was packed into those Space Bites hit her bloodstream like a firecracker because she stopped abruptly, a wild glint in her eyes, and pointed to the nearest lamppost. “M’gonna touch the stars,” she announced, her grin verging on maniacal.
“No, Jinx. Stop.”
Those hands, more skin than bone, wrapped around the base of the lamppost, her face scrunched with a determination that made it seem like she was preparing to scale Mount Everest rather than a city streetlight. “I’m telling you, Ekko,” she hauled herself up a few inches, “this is it. I’m gonna touch the stars.”
“You’re gonna get tetanus,” his arms folded over his chest, his composure running thin, though his eyes were already tracking her movements with the sort of exasperated concern only he was capable of.
She paused for a moment, looking down at him, her face still set with the conviction of someone on a mission. “Tetanus? That’s just a thing they put on warning signs. I’m on a mission, Ekko.”
“A mission to get yourself hurt?” he scoffed, though there was an undercurrent of worry in his tone. “Seriously, Jinx, you need to get down before you end up in a hospital instead of—”
Before he could finish, her foot slipped. Her arms flailed, grasping for stability that wasn’t there, but she was already falling. Ekko reacted instinctively, darting forward to catch her. His arm wrapped firmly around her waist, easing her safely back to solid ground in one fluid motion.
“You’re gonna kill yourself,” he wanted to be snappy, to be scolding, but her lips had transformed into that pout. And he just didn’t have the heart.
Jinx stumbled slightly, landing with a small huff, but there was no embarrassment on her face—just her signature irreverence. The pout ceased, replaced by the definition of a shit-eating grin. “Worth a shot,” she quipped, like falling off a lamppost was just another Tuesday.
Ekko glared down at her, his brow deeply furrowed. “You’re insane.”
“No, I’m adventurous,” she shot back, her tone light and teasing. With a playful shove to his chest, she added, swaying slightly on her feet. “But thanks for saving me, Boy Savior.”
She giggled at his stubborn frown, the sound light and effervescent, like bubbles rising to the surface. Ekko gave her a long look, his lips tugging upward in spite of himself, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he followed her lead, his steps keeping pace with hers as they continued walking down the street.
The streets were quieter now, shadows stretching long beneath the streetlights. Every so often, she skipped ahead, then paused, turning to check if he'd caught up yet. He followed, of course—he always did.
⛧
Courtesy of Jinx's adoptive father, Silco, and his constant worries about her safety, she’d been gifted an apartment during her freshman year of college. At the time, she’d tried to protest, insisting she could get one herself, earn it, but she couldn’t keep a job to save her life, so the decision had been out of her hands.
The apartment was a two-bedroom, and with her unpredictable behavior, it was clear she needed someone to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t spiral. As they reached the door, the exhaustion from their late-night snack raid weighed heavily on her, and Jinx stumbled, barely catching herself before bursting into some deranged variation of a giggle.
"Alright," Ekko fumbled with the key. "Let’s get you inside."
Jinx mumbled something under her breath, her words a blur of sugar crash and exhaustion, as she stumbled inside, kicking off her shoes and making a beeline for the couch. She all but collapsed onto it, boneless, sinking into the cushions like she intended to stay there forever.
Ekko sighed. He knew her too well—knew that if she slept there, she’d wake up twisted in some completely unnatural position, limbs sore, neck stiff, and cranky about it. She always did. So, before she could melt any further into the fabric, he crossed the room and pulled her upright.
"C’mon trouble, you’re not crashing here," he said, his voice gentle, almost tender, as he guided her toward her bedroom.
She groaned, her arms flopping weakly around him. There was no real fight in her, just a whine, "Do I have to?" Her voice was thick with sleep.
"Yes, Jinx. Bed. Now," he said, trying not to smile as she draped herself over him like a limp ragdoll.
He helped her into her bed, smoothing the covers over her and making sure she was tucked in. She grinned up at him lazily, her eyes half-lidded.
"You’re such a mom," she slurred, but her attempt at snark was dulled significantly by the exhaustion crawling up her throat.
Ekko rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the soft laugh that escaped him. "Just go to sleep, alright?"
Jinx gave him a half-hearted salute, her body already sinking into the warmth of her blankets. "Night, Boy Savior," she whispered sleepily, the words slurring together as her breathing evened out.
Ekko paused for a beat, a thin smile breaking out across his lips. "Night night, Pow," he replied softly, the nickname slipping out like second nature.
He watched her for a few seconds longer, her face peaceful and unguarded in the dim light. It was a rare sight—Jinx without the walls, without the chaos. Just her, quiet and at ease. It was like Powder was back, if only for a fleeting moment.
After Vander’s accident and Silco becoming her guardian, Jinx had emerged as something entirely new—something louder, sharper, and harder to break. Powder had been soft, unsure, too fragile for a world that seemed determined to crush her.
Jinx, though—she had been a force to be reckoned with. She was bold where Powder had been hesitant, reckless where Powder had been careful. She wore her unpredictability like armor, daring anyone to get too close. But for all her chaos, Ekko knew it wasn’t born from nothing. It was a shield, a survival mechanism. Powder couldn’t endure the pain, the loss, the guilt. Jinx could.
But standing there in the doorway, watching the faintest flicker of change in her features as sleep slowly claimed her, he saw it—the quiet truth she fought so hard to bury.
Powder wasn’t gone
⛧
“Oh my god, Ekko, where the fuck did you put it!?” Jinx’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and accusing.
Ekko sat cross-legged on the floor, huddled over a tangle of blueprints and notes for his coursework, pencil tucked behind his ear. “Oh god, Jinx, I don’t have your fucking vape. For the last time—”
But his defense fell on deaf ears. Jinx didn’t even pause, her hands already turfing the couch cushions from their rightful spots and sending them flying in random directions.
“Maybe you should’ve grabbed one alongside all the other polluting shit last night,” he muttered, more to himself than her.
Mid-cushion toss, she froze, her head snapping in his direction like she’d just unearthed a betrayal. “Why don’t you help me instead of just sitting there on your ass?”
Ekko sighed, tipping his head back against the wall, his eyes locking on the ceiling as if it held the answers to the universe's most frustrating questions—questions mostly posed by the blue-haired girl glaring daggers at him. “Because, Jinx, it’s your vape. Not mine. And I didn’t lose it.”
“That’s not the point!” She dove for the other side of the couch. “You live here too, you know. That makes it your problem.”
“No, actually, it really doesn’t.”
From over the armrest, her glare sharpened, strands of blue slipping free from the messy bun that was failing to contain them.
Her gaze narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as if she was about to launch into another tirade, but she paused, seething silently for a moment.
“Ugh, fine,” Ekko finally relented, folding up his blueprints neatly. “Where’d you last see it?”
Jinx’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of victory. “I was on the couch, and then I went to grab some chips from the kitchen.”
Ekko raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced. “And you just left it there? Really?”
“Do you always question my methods?”
“I’m just trying to understand how you manage to lose things all the time.”
“I don’t lose things, Ekko,” she corrected. “I misplace them. It’s totally different.”
He didn’t have the energy to argue, so he just muttered a quiet, “Sure, Jinx,” his voice barely rising above the hum of the room, as he crouched down, sifting through the mess of discarded couch cushions. Jinx didn’t budge, watching him with a detached, almost calculating gaze. Her fingers drummed a rhythmic beat against her leg—tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap—her smile a ghost of something mischievous, pleased that once again, he was the one doing the hard work. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
It didn’t take long for the telltale gleam of silver to catch his eye. He stopped, his hand hovering over a pile of mismatched socks and a half-empty bag of chips, before his fingers closed around the cold metal.
“Found it,” Ekko announced, holding up the vape with a sense of quiet, resigned victory. The small device hung between his fingers like a prize, dangling carelessly as if it wasn’t the same object he’d been warned about a hundred times before.
“Yes! Finally.” She reached out for it, but Ekko pulled it just out of her grasp, a smug look settling on his features.
“Uh-uh,” he said, holding the vape up higher. “I think I deserve a little recognition here. You were this close to completely losing it.”
Jinx’s expression morphed into one of petulance as she crossed her arms. “I didn’t lose it, Ekko. I just... mislaid it for a sec, alright?”
“Misplaced? You mean hid it in a mountain of cushions and wrappers?”
“Details,” she waved him off, clearly unconcerned. “Give it here.”
Ekko chuckled, lifting the vape just out of her reach, clearly savoring the moment. "I think you owe me a thank you first."
Jinx gave him a pointed, unamused stare, her lips curling slightly in disdain. “Thank you, my savior, for your invaluable contribution to the survival of my sanity. Happy now?”
He smirked, a flicker of triumph dancing in his eyes as he tossed the vape towards her, the motion casual, yet precise. "Perfectly. See? That wasn’t so difficult."
“Whatever, Ekko.” The words were flung over her shoulder, sharp and dismissive, before she flipped him off with a quick, defiant motion. Without another word, she retreated into her room, the door slamming behind her like a final note in a dissonant melody.
He sighed, a knowing grin tugging at his lips, and called out after her. "You have class in half an hour!"
From behind the closed door, the sound of her voice came, muffled but unyielding, like the last spark of rebellion before it was smothered. “I know, Space Boy!”
⛧
Once again, Jinx’s outfit choices for class were nothing short of a spectacle—an extravagance of fabric and rebellion that seemed designed to stand out rather than shield her. A skirt that barely qualified as such clung low on her hips, and torn tights wound their way up her legs, offering little more than a suggestion of warmth. Her platform boots, an audacious statement on their own, were strung with pink ribbons—far more decorative than functional, clunked dramatically with each step.
Ekko’s gaze flicked over her, his expression tightening, lips pressing into a thin line. “Jinx,” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and concern, “you need a coat.”
Jinx, as always, was unfazed by his practical plea. She simply shrugged, tugging at her skirt with a flourish, as though the act itself could somehow convince him of her point. “No, I don’t.”
“It’s 41°F,” he shot back flatly, his words carrying the weight of logic. Without waiting for her reply, he moved to grab her leather jacket, determined to offer her at least a semblance of warmth.
But just as the jacket neared her shoulders, Jinx twisted away with a dramatic whine, “Ekko, stop! I’m not gonna be cold!”
He ignored her protests, stilling her flailing arms with a practiced ease. Before she could wriggle free, he’d snugly wrapped the leather jacket around her.
“Ekko-” She bristled. “You’re fucking annoying.”
“And you’re fucking stubborn,” he retorted, arms crossing as he peered down at her. “Seriously, Jinx, it’s not a fashion statement to freeze to death.”
She huffed, tugging at the lapels like the jacket might suddenly disintegrate under her touch. “It doesn’t even go with my outfit.”
“Pretty sure hypothermia doesn’t either,” he quipped, tilting his head with a smirk. “Now come on. You’ve got class to get to.”
She glared up at him, her lips curving into a pout, the kind she knew usually worked. “I don’t see you making this much effort for anyone else.”
“Because no one else runs around in what basically counts as an ice-bucket challenge outfit,” he deadpanned, gesturing to her barely-there skirt and ripped tights.
She sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in exaggerated defeat. “Fine, whatever. But if anyone asks, I’m only wearing this because you bullied me.”
“Sure,” he humored her, grabbing his bag and nudging her towards the door. “We’ll tell them I’m your personal stylist.”
She snorted, letting the jacket stay on, albeit begrudgingly, as they headed out. “More like my personal pain in the ass.”
“Same thing.”
⛧
The bus rattled and groaned, its weary frame protesting as it trundled down the uneven streets. The faint, ever-present scent of diesel hung in the air, mingling with the stale, recycled breath of the passengers and the damp, musty tang of worn fabric. There was also a trace of burnt coffee, sharp and bitter, lingering from the morning rush—a scent that somehow felt as tired as the bus itself.
Jinx sat slouched against the window, her body a lazy silhouette against the grey of the world outside. She pressed her temple against the cold glass, her breath briefly fogging the surface before it dissipated, lost to the morning chill. Her hair, untamed and wild, spilled over her shoulder in unruly waves. The dim light of the early hours caught the strands, turning them into an almost ethereal cascade of deep azure, shimmering faintly like the last vestiges of a forgotten dream.
Normally, Jinx wouldn’t be awake at this ungodly hour—7 a.m., a time reserved for the dead or the truly insane. But a certain Professor, who clearly had no regard for the sacred ritual of sleep, insisted on holding class at such an inhumane hour. Professor Viktor Vestnik—just Viktor to Jinx and Ekko—was infamous for his early morning lectures. Jinx had long suspected he chose these hours for nothing more than to observe their collective suffering, his steely, unreadable gaze sweeping over their tired, bleary faces as though he were measuring their endurance, testing the limits of human patience.
Despite the torment of the hour, his classes had always been a breeze for her. Physics, for all its complexity, felt like a language she already knew. The equations were puzzles waiting to be solved, and the theories about forces and motion fit together seamlessly in her mind, as natural as breathing. Where others saw confusion and chaos, Jinx saw clarity. It was her world, one of the places where everything just clicked into place.
The bus rattled to a stop at yet another light, the screech of its brakes cutting through the haze of the morning and jolting Jinx slightly from her thoughts. She stretched, her fingers tapping a quiet rhythm against the cool glass of the window, watching as the city passed by in muted shades of gray, the buildings blurring together like a watercolor washed out by rain.
Ekko sat beside her, his presence both familiar and distant. One earbud nestled securely in his ear, the other dangled between them, the cord swaying gently with the bus’s movements. His head bobbed faintly, the subtle motion syncing with the beat of the music they shared in silence. His hoodie was pulled up, shadowing his face, but his sharp eyes still scanned the aisle absently, always alert, always looking.
But then, just like that, she froze.
A familiar figure boarded the bus at the next stop—a girl with long blonde hair, her locks pulled into a neat bow that seemed almost too perfect for the rough edges of the morning. She was chatting with someone, laughter spilling from her lips, the sound soft and bright against the backdrop of the low murmur from the other passengers. But to Jinx, it was like the air shifted. Her stomach twisted into a tight, unbearable knot.
“Oh, nope,” Jinx muttered under her breath, the panic creeping into her voice despite her efforts to keep it steady. She nudged Ekko hard with her elbow, her eyes wide with alarm.
Ekko, already lost in his music, pulled out his earbud with a faint grunt. “What now?”
She didn’t answer immediately, her gaze flickering towards the front of the bus, her body shrinking into her seat, practically disappearing into her oversized jacket as if trying to make herself invisible. “Blonde hair, three o’clock,” she whispered, barely audible over the clatter of the bus.
Ekko squinted in the direction she indicated, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You mean—wait, isn’t that...?”
“Yes!” she hissed, her voice low and frantic. “And she’s coming this way. Don’t look, Ekko!”
Ekko shot her an incredulous glance. “You mean don’t look like how you’re literally hiding right now?”
Before he could say anything else, Jinx grabbed his hoodie sleeve and yanked him closer, her breath hitching as she peeked around him like he was some kind of human shield. “If she sees me, it’s going to be so awkward. Just—be tall and, like, block me.”
Ekko snorted, rolling his eyes. “You could’ve just not hooked up with half the campus, y’know.” His voice was teasing, mocking, but despite the words, he subtly shifted to give her more cover.
“Ha. Ha. Hilarious,” she muttered, practically melting into her seat as the blonde girl walked past their row.
For a moment, Jinx held her breath, her heart racing in her chest. The girl didn’t look their way, and soon enough, she settled into a seat a few rows back, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding behind her.
“Crisis averted, Space Case,” Ekko said with a grin, leaning back slightly as if to offer Jinx some room to breathe.
Jinx straightened cautiously, her eyes narrowing at him with a mix of irritation and relief. “Not funny, Ekko.”
“You’re right,” he said, his chuckle low and amused. “It’s hilarious.”
The bus lurched to a stop in front of the campus, the sudden jolt shaking them both from their small moment of tension. Jinx grabbed her bag, practically darting out of her seat with the stealth of a panicked cat, slipping off the bus as quickly and inconspicuously as she could manage. Ekko followed close behind, a wide, mischievous grin still plastered on his face.
“You really need to sort out your roster,” he teased, the grin never leaving his face as they walked toward the lecture hall.
“I will end you.”
Ekko snorted, clearly unbothered by her threat. “You’ve been saying that for years, Jinx.”
If looks could kill, they would be laying the pall over his casket by now, her glare burning into him with enough intensity to singe his edges, but Ekko didn’t falter. Instead, he matched her pace with an infuriatingly casual stride, hands shoved into his pockets like he had all the time in the world.
“Seriously, though,” he pressed, “You’ve got to stop running into your ex-flings on the bus. It’s becoming a pattern.”
“Ex-flings?” she repeated, disgusted. “What are we, in a Regency novel? Should I call them my former suitors next?”
“I’m just saying,” he said with a shrug, “maybe narrow the pool a little? Like, I don’t know, avoid getting with people you’ll have to see every other day?”
She groaned, rolling her eyes as they reached the steps of the lecture hall. “Oh, please, like you’re some kind of relationship guru.”
“I’m not the one hiding behind my best friend on public transport,” he fired back, flashing her a grin.
Jinx flipped him off as she pushed the door open, her boots clunking loudly against the tiled floor. “I swear, Ekko, one day your smug little face is going to get you in trouble.”
“Not with you, it won’t,” he quipped, stepping around her to head for their usual seats near the back of the lecture hall.
“Keep talking and we’ll see,” she muttered, plopping down, her boots immediately finding their way to the seat in front of her, the chunky platforms resting with zero regard for anyone else.
The guy sitting in the chair ahead glanced back, clearly annoyed, before shuffling slightly to the right to escape her proximity.
Ekko snickered as he took his usual seat next to her. “Subtle as ever, Jinx.”
She flashed him a toothy grin, unapologetic. “What can I say? Some of us don’t live to please.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” he replied, shaking his head as he pulled out his notebook.
“Miss Corbin, feet down,” was the first thing Professor Vestnik said as he entered the room, the sharp tap of his walking stick echoing through the space. His finger immediately pointed accusingly in Jinx’s direction.
Jinx didn’t move for a second, her smirk growing as she leaned back in her chair, clearly debating whether to comply. Her boots remained firmly planted on the back of the chair in front of her, her defiance radiating like a beacon.
Ekko sighed, nudging her elbow. “Come on, Jinx. Don’t start.”
Rolling her eyes theatrically, she swung her legs down with exaggerated flair, the soles of her platform boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud. “Happy now, Professor?” she drawled, her tone dripping with mock sweetness.
Professor Vestnik arched a brow, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before turning to the rest of the class. “Delighted,” he replied dryly, stepping toward the lectern. “Perhaps we can proceed without further dramatics.”
Jinx snickered under her breath, and Ekko shot her a warning glance. “What?” she whispered, shrugging. “He likes me.”
“Sure,” he flipped open his notebook, “in the same way someone likes a stray cat they’ve been feeding.”
Before Jinx could retort, Professor Vestnik cleared his throat, silencing the room. “Today, we’ll be continuing our discussion on quantum entanglement. If you’ve forgotten what that entails, I suggest you listen carefully—or, at the very least, pretend to.”
A few chuckles rippled through the class, but Professor Vestnik's eyes flicked briefly to Jinx and Ekko, his expression unreadable. Jinx gave him a cheeky two-fingered salute in response, earning a slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips.
Ekko shook his head, already scribbling notes. “Just don’t get us kicked out, okay?”
“No promises,” she whispered back, her grin widening as she leaned over to steal a glance at his notes.
⛧
Ekko’s second class of the day was his BArch program—his architecture course. While physics with Viktor was shared with Jinx and often a blend of chaos and wit, that class had always been his element. The lecture hall was quieter, filled with like-minded individuals who were just as passionate about design and innovation as he was.
After physics, Ekko split from Jinx, who waved him off with a sarcastic, “Don’t build anything boring!” before vanishing toward her visual arts class.
The architecture studio felt like a different world altogether. The open layout, with large drafting tables and walls lined with blueprints, models, and mood boards, buzzed with quiet energy. Ekko slid into his usual spot near the windows, where natural light streamed in, perfect for sketching. His sketchbook, already filled with intricate designs, sat open on the desk, alongside a neatly organized set of pencils, rulers, and markers.
That day, though, there was a new energy in the room. The professor, a no-nonsense woman named Professor Keller, entered with an air of excitement that seemed to snap the room to attention. “Alright, team,” she began, her voice sharp and authoritative, “today we kicked off a new project. You were going to design a community space for a group home for children, a safe place for them to learn, grow, and have fun. Your challenge was to blend function with comfort and creativity. This was about creating a space that was not only practical but also inspiring.”
Ekko’s mind immediately started to race as he flipped open his sketchbook, his fingers itching to bring his ideas to life. He had always been driven by projects that had a deeper purpose, ones that helped people, not just places to look pretty. A group home for kids was something he could get behind—something that would really mean something.
The professor handed out a brief, detailing the needs of the space. There were various living areas for the kids, communal spaces for activities and learning, and private spaces for each child to have their own retreat. The design needed to be safe, welcoming, and flexible, as well as sustainable. It was more than just an assignment for Ekko; it hit close to home. He remembered the community centers that he and Jinx had encountered, from ones in Chicago, to Los Angeles. That project felt like a way to give back, even if only in concept for now.
Professor Keller circled the room, nodding approvingly as she watched the students begin sketching. He flipped open his sketchbook, pencil gliding across the page as he started laying out ideas. Rounded edges, plenty of natural light, and modular furniture that could be rearranged depending on the activity. He sketched a climbing wall for the more active kids, a sensory-friendly corner with soft lighting and beanbags, and an outdoor garden where they could learn about plants—or just play tag.
By the end of the class, he had a rough draft of the layout and a list of things to research, from sustainable building materials to ways to make the space inclusive for kids with different needs.
Packing up his supplies, Ekko glanced at his phone. A text from Jinx sat at the top of the notifications, accompanied by an attachment.
Pow-pow: Don't judge, it’s modern art ;)
He clicked on the image, and his eyes widened slightly as he stared at the sculpture. It was a chaotic heap of twisted metal and colorful, dripping paint in shades of electric pink and sky blue, the kind of thing you’d expect to see in an avant-garde art gallery where the meaning was always up for interpretation.
He could practically hear Jinx’s voice in his head as he looked at it. "It’s called 'Chaos in Motion,'" he imagined her saying with that signature grin.
His phone buzzed again before he could respond. Another message from Jinx popped up.
Pow-pow: Don't tell me it’s a work of genius, because I already know.
Ekko chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He typed out a quick reply.
Space Boy: It’s... definitely something. I’ll give you that.
He dropped his phone into his pocket and gathered his things, grinning at the image still floating in his mind. He couldn’t wait to see her explanation for this one. Modern art, indeed.
As he stepped out of the studio and into the busy campus hallways, he found himself glancing around for Jinx. He was about to text her when he spotted her—heading toward the café, earbuds in, a distracted look on her face as she fiddled with something in her hands.
Ekko jogged up to her, teasingly bumping her shoulder. "So, what’s the story behind that?" He referenced the sculpture she sent him.
She turned her head toward him, her expression unreadable for a moment before her lips curled into a smirk. "It’s a commentary on societal expectations," she said with exaggerated flair, "the deconstruction of order, the chaos of life... and, uh, the color scheme was supposed to evoke... emotion. You know, like—intensity."
He snorted, nearly choking on his own laughter. "Right, 'chaos of life,' got it. Couldn’t have said it better myself."
“Well, I thought it was pretty profound,”
He shook his head, still grinning, the lightness of her words clashing beautifully with the weight they carried. “Yeah, I’m sure it was. Just don’t expect the art world to start calling it ‘genius’ anytime soon.”
She raised an eyebrow, her face lit with mischievous fire. “Fine, but when it becomes the defining sculpture of our generation, I’ll send you a postcard,” she said, her voice playful, but the confidence in it was undeniable.
“Sure,” he replied, the corners of his mouth curling upward, “I’ll be the first to claim I knew the ‘genius’ behind it.”
With a flick of her hair, she turned to walk ahead, her stride light, the mischief in her eyes dancing in the soft light of the morning. Ekko watched her for a moment, a grin tugging at his lips, before following in her wake. In her world, chaos was not just a theme—it was poetry in motion, a symphony of contradictions that only made sense in the spaces between reason and madness.