𝐀𝐜𝐭 Two -- TELEPHONES
              𝟎𝟎4: How to stop seeing ghosts
              (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, 02x03- 02x07)

MOON had always been right, her perspective so often the most beautiful and considerate in the room. Even in her absence, her words lingered in Ekko's mind. Not all of topside was inherently "bad," she had insisted. But most of them were spineless—ignorant of the ways their choices rippled into the Undercity. Or worse, they simply didn't care.

Fail-safes, they called them. Poisoning Zain's ventilation system, polluting the water and air—measures to protect themselves at the expense of countless lives below.

Ekko's gaze locked on Jayce as the man reached out toward the object at the center of their focus. Whatever it was, it pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly energy. Jayce hadn't stopped to consider the consequences of touching it. He only wanted to push forward, to advance the research.

The thing responded almost instantly, its surface twisting and expanding as if alive. It wasn't just devouring—it was absorbing, pulling in everything it touched. Ekko stumbled back, arm outstretched as though he could pull away from its unseen grasp. But it was too late.

Panic coursed through him, and a single thought echoed in his mind: why did everything always go wrong for him?

Ekko could feel himself falling, though "falling" wasn't quite the right word. It was a sensation he couldn't fully describe, a dizzying pull that tore through him. His scream echoed into the void, but just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. The sensation of falling ceased.

He found himself sitting down, breathless and disoriented. Instinctively, he gazed at his hands—his own hands, or so he assumed. They felt different somehow. Standing up, he walked toward a reflective surface nearby, needing to confirm the strange unease that had taken root inside him.

The face staring back at him was... not his. White locs were gone, replaced by perfect braids tied back in a neat ponytail. His familiar face paint was absent, and his skin was impossibly clear, smooth and unblemished. A sweater vest and button-up shirt replaced his usual attire, and small gold hoops adorned his ears.

Ekko stared at the reflection, equal parts awe and confusion coursing through him. What was this?

"You're beyond help," a voice cut through the quiet, startling him. Spinning around, he froze at the sight of a girl with blue hair.

Instinctively, he took a step back, his pulse quickening. The girl raised her hands nonchalantly. "Woah, relax, jumpy. I've got a new idea."

It was Jinx. But it wasn't. Her voice distorted in his ears, the sound warping like a broken record. Desperate to shake the growing unease, Ekko grabbed the nearest object off the workbench and hurled it at her.

She dodged effortlessly, gasping in surprise. He grabbed a dagger next, clutching it tightly as he backed away. "Stay... stay back," he pleaded, his voice trembling as he edged toward the door.

Before he could escape, the door swung open, forcing him to stumble back as a man entered the room. Ekko's breath hitched, the dagger slipping from his fingers.

"Oi! What in the seven sumos is all this racket?" the man grumbled.

Ekko could only stare, his chest tightening. It was Benzo. Alive. Standing right in front of him.

"Oi, one of those days, huh?" the girl—Powder—chimed in, draping an arm around Ekko's shoulder. "You know those ugly twins, genius and madness."

Her words distorted again, twisting into incomprehensible noise. Ekko barely noticed as he stumbled forward, away from her, his legs moving of their own accord. Slowly, he reached Benzo and threw his arms around him in an embrace, the older man stiffening in surprise.

"What's gotten into him?" Benzo muttered, bewildered.

Ekko sat at the pub, dazed. Everywhere he looked, ghosts haunted him. Vander and Benzo sat at the counter, aged but unmistakable, chatting as if years hadn't separated them from this world. Powder—alive and vibrant, but so clearly not Jinx—sat beside him at a table, chattering away.

A snap of fingers in front of his face yanked him back into reality.

"Hey! Spaceboy. I'm not talking to myself over here," Powder said, pouting. "What is up with you? You've been out of it all day. Want me to call MoMo?"

MoMo?

"I feel like I woke up in the wrong universe," Ekko mumbled, trying to make sense of it all.

"This is what happens when you stay up all night. Those synapses start firing around like drunk slugs," Powder teased. "Work and MoMo must have been keeping you up, huh?"

He blinked at her, confused, but didn't interrupt.

"Like seriously, wear a turtleneck or something—hickeys aren't in anymore." Powder grinned mischievously as Ekko shot her a bewildered look. "There's still plenty of time before the competition. Okay, we'll work out the kinks. I got you." She patted his arm reassuringly, but he flinched, the sharp clang of a pot falling breaking the moment.

The distortion in his ears returned, warping every sound into something unbearable.

"If it isn't Zaun's royalty," Mylo said, appearing with that same smug grin Ekko hadn't seen in years. He was older now, but still unmistakable, though the addition of a ridiculous mustache soured his look.

Claggor followed closely, taller than Ekko remembered, with no glasses and a rugged confidence that had only grown with age.

"Sit down," Powder giggled, gesturing at Ekko.

"Hey hey, little man," Claggor teased. "Trouble in paradise?"

Mylo smirked, leaning forward. "Have you seen his neck? There seems to be no issues in paradise."

Powder giggled, shaking her head. "Another one of MoMo's masterpieces," she said, exasperated. "It's just the usual project woes."

"Tell me about it," Claggor replied. "We finally got the hybrids to feed off the fissure gases, but the conversion rate's way too low. They hardly grow—nowhere near robust enough to purify the air down here."

"Unless you grow a million of them," Mylo quipped.

"No way we're doing that," Claggor shot back.

Before Ekko could even process what was happening, a beautiful, rugged woman swept by, collecting their empty glasses. Mylo's gaze trailed after her, admiration written all over his face.

"I'll be right back," he announced, following her like a moth to a flame.

Claggor shook his head. "Go," he muttered to Powder, smirking. "Save him from himself."

Claggor took a sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow at Ekko. "Where's MoMo?"

"MoMo?" Ekko echoed, his confusion deepening. "Why does everyone keep mentioning MoMo?"

Claggor set his drink down, giving Ekko a puzzled glance. "She disappears all the time to paint. Says we're too distracting. But she always tells you where she's going."

Ekko blinked, completely lost. "Why would she tell me?"

Claggor shot him an incredulous look, as if the answer were painfully obvious. "You're her boyfriend? Of course she'd tell you. Moon tells you everything—leaves the rest of us in the dark most of the time."

Ekko stiffened, his chest tightening at the sound of her name. Moon. His voice caught in his throat as memories of her flooded back—the ones from his world, not this one.

"Are you feeling okay, man?" Claggor leaned forward, his expression softening. "You're acting... weird. Did you two have a fight or something?"

Ekko shook his head, struggling to piece together the fragments of this reality. "No, I—" He cut himself off, forcing a weak laugh. "Just tired, I guess."

"Well, wake up, spaceboy." Claggor chuckled, motioning to his drink. "You've got a girl who loves you enough to put up with all this. Smart, pretty and kind? You might be the luckiest man alive Ekko."

Ekko forced a smile, but his mind was racing. What the hell is going on here?

EKKO stumbled out of the bar, his head spinning, his chest tightening under the crushing weight of confusion. The cold air in the alley did little to clear his mind. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, before throwing up the meager contents of it onto the ground.

His legs felt weak beneath him, his vision blurring as his breathing grew ragged. Heimerdinger appeared quietly, stepping into the alleyway with an air of calm that sharply contrasted Ekko's panic. He extended a small hand, holding out a familiar notebook.

Heimerdinger had been here longer than Ekko, it seemed—three years he had spent in this world, waiting.

He confirmed Ekko's fears: this was no hallucination or dream. It was a parallel universe. One where things were different. Where everyone was alive. Where Zaun wasn't torn apart by division but mended through collective effort.

Heimerdinger spoke with measured optimism, his tone light despite the gravity of the situation. "Oh, it isn't all bad. I've been able to accomplish wonderful things in this world. Give it time to settle. This place will grow on you. You'll see."

Ekko stiffened at the words, standing up straight, the haze of disorientation replaced by a sharp, cutting clarity.

"Grow on me?" His voice held a tremor of anger as he spat the words. "I have people back home who need me. We don't belong here."

Heimerdinger's tone shifted slightly, more serious now. "And hey, we can't leave."

Ekko's gaze hardened, his jaw tightening as he clutched the notebook. "I'm gonna find a way back," he said, each word laced with conviction. "With or without you."

The resolve in his voice cut through the night like a blade. Heimerdinger didn't argue, watching silently as Ekko turned away, already planning his next move.

Ekko had been here barely a two hours and had already managed to offend and piss off Powder—a feat that was becoming an unfortunate specialty of his.

"You better not talk to your girlfriend like that," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut steel. "She may love you more than life itself, but one thing Moon doesn't take is disrespect."

Her words lingered, heavy with implication, and Ekko felt the weight of them settle uncomfortably in his chest. He needed to get home—his real home—before he ran into Moon, because the truth he couldn't shake was this: if he saw her, he wasn't sure he'd ever have the strength to leave.

Now he sat at the pub with Heimerdinger, trying to focus, but Powder's glare burned into him from across the room. Her arms were crossed, her expression somewhere between exasperated and outright disdain.

"Who am I to turn down a lad in need? Again," Heimerdinger muttered, almost to himself, as he took another sip from his glass. Ekko barely registered the words. His attention was elsewhere—on Powder, who had turned away from him to speak to someone nearby.

"Get your man; he's pissing me off," she said, her tone sharp but less biting than before.

Ekko couldn't see who she was talking to, their figure obscured behind her, but he leaned forward, his ears straining to catch the reply.

"He means well," the voice said, calm and measured, like the sound of a brush sweeping across a canvas. "I'm sure he's just stressed."

Powder huffed. "If you stopped keeping him up all night, maybe this wouldn't happen."

The figure shifted slightly, their posture relaxed and unaffected. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Powder's demeanor softened at the reply, her irritation dissolving into teasing. "Oh, come on. All of Zaun's already seen your next big creation—Ekko's neck is proof enough."

And then it came, the most beautiful sound Ekko had ever heard: Moon's laugh.

It wasn't loud or overpowering, but soft, intimate, and enchanting. It rose and fell like a melody played on strings, warm and rich with an effortless charm. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel like the world wasn't such a terrible place after all, that maybe, just maybe, there was still beauty to be found in the chaos.

"Everything is a canvas, Powder," she replied, her tone playful and sweet, like honey stirred into tea. "Ekko's just the prettiest one."

As she stepped out from behind Powder, Ekko's heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat as he saw her, really saw her, and every memory of her in his own world came rushing back.

Moon looked older now—not taller, though. Her small stature remained unchanged, her head barely reaching Powder's chin, even in the delicate heels she wore. Ekko suspected the years of malnourishment and abuse at the brothel had stolen that from her, but it hadn't stolen her beauty.

Her brown eyes shone with the same quiet intensity he remembered, deep and expressive, as if they held the weight of a thousand stories. Her hair, styled in intricate French curl braids, was pinned back with an elegant claw clip that framed her face perfectly. The braids gleamed in the dim light, their intricate pattern almost hypnotic, a testament to the care and artistry she brought to everything she touched.

Her outfit was casual yet impossibly classy—a soft cream blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers, the fabric flowing like water. A tailored blazer hung off her shoulders, and everything about the look screamed sophistication. But despite its elegance, the outfit was speckled with watercolor stains, vibrant blues, purples, and greens smudged across the fabric like a living work of art. The contrast was startling: the price of the clothes was undeniable, yet she wore them like they were nothing more than a painter's smock.

Moon radiated a kind of effortless beauty, a quiet confidence that made it impossible to look away. She was stunning in a way that wasn't just physical—her presence was magnetic, the kind of person who could command attention without saying a word.

Ekko felt his blood run cold, his stomach twisting as he tried to process the sight of her here, alive and thriving in a way he'd never seen before. This wasn't the Moon he'd lost. This was someone else entirely, and yet... it was still her.

"Ekko." Her voice practically sang, light and melodic as it cut through the haze in his mind. She left Powder behind, crossing the room with an effortless grace that left him frozen in place.

Before he could even think of how to react, she was standing before him, her brown eyes warm and intent as they locked onto his. Gently, almost reverently, she reached out and cradled his face in her hands, her touch soft yet grounding, pulling him out of his daze and into the present moment.

Ekko's breath hitched, his body stiff as he tried to comprehend the intimacy of the gesture. And then she leaned in, her lips pressing against his in a kiss so light, so fleeting, it was like the whisper of a breeze.

For a second, the world stopped.

The kiss was everything he didn't know he wanted—soft, warm, and bittersweet, like the memory of a dream he couldn't quite grasp. It was so brief that it shouldn't have lingered, but it did. His chest tightened, and he felt an ache he couldn't name, a longing buried deep in the recesses of his heart. He knew they were together in this world—he knew that—but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it, for the way it made him feel.

He wanted to sink into it, to hold onto her and let himself get lost in the comfort she offered, but it was over too soon, leaving him reeling, dizzy with the weight of something both impossibly sweet and unbearably painful.

She pulled back, dropping her hands to her sides, and rocked playfully on the balls of her feet, as if the moment had meant nothing at all. Meanwhile, Ekko sat there, staring at her like a man who'd just tasted water for the first time after years in the desert.

"Okay, guess," she said, her voice teasing, her smile lighting up her face like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

"Guess what?" Ekko asked, his voice rough, barely able to form the words as he tried to shake himself out of the spell she'd cast.

"The lip balm flavor, silly," she replied, her grin widening. "It's a new one. I don't think you'll get it this time."

There was a spark of mischief in her eyes, the same playful energy she'd always had, and it felt so familiar, so achingly real, it almost hurt to see it again.

"I-I don't—"

"I can give you a hint," she interrupted, beaming at him as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "It's a dessert this time. Claggor gave it to me."

She tilted her head slightly, her smile as radiant as the Moon herself. Ekko couldn't look away. She was beautiful—just as beautiful as the day he'd lost her. And for a moment, he let himself believe, let himself imagine that this wasn't another cruel twist of fate, but the reality he'd always dreamed of.

Ekko blinked, still struggling to pull himself out of the fog her presence had wrapped him in. "Uh... caramel?" he guessed weakly, his voice unsure. He wasn't even sure if caramel was a dessert or just an ingredient, but his mind was racing too fast to think clearly.

Moon laughed softly, a sound that stirred something deep in his chest. She shook her head, a playful pout forming on her lips. "Nope, not even close. Want another try?"

Ekko hesitated, staring at her, but his thoughts weren't on the game. They were tangled in the impossibility of her—standing here, alive and well, smiling like she hadn't been taken from him. He glanced around the room, his unease growing. Everyone seemed so... comfortable, so whole in this world. How could they act like none of it mattered? How could they not see how wrong all of this was?

"No," he said abruptly, sharper than he meant to.

Moon tilted her head, her smile faltering ever so slightly. "No? You're giving up already?"

"It's not that. I just..." Ekko looked away, his fists clenching. "This whole thing—it's just weird, okay? You're acting like everything's fine when it's not. None of this is real."

Her face fell, the warmth in her eyes replaced by confusion and something else—hurt. "What do you mean it's not real?"

"I mean this," he gestured at her, at the bar, at everything around them, his frustration spilling over. "You, them, this whole... perfect little world. It's fake! It's not supposed to be like this!"

The room went silent.

Moon's hand dropped to her side, her expression unreadable as she took a step back. "Fake?" she repeated softly, her voice trembling just enough for him to catch it. "So... I'm fake?"

Ekko froze, realizing too late what he'd said. "No, I didn't mean—"

But she was already turning away, her shoulders stiff as she moved back toward Powder. The light in her eyes had dimmed, and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

Powder glared at him, her expression a mixture of anger and disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped, standing up to block his view of Moon. "You don't get to treat her like that."

Heimerdinger sighed audibly from across the table, shaking his head in disappointment. Even Claggor, who rarely seemed fazed by anything, gave Ekko a long, disapproving look before muttering under his breath.

Ekko's throat tightened as he stood there, the weight of their gazes bearing down on him. He wanted to explain, to tell them they didn't understand, that he didn't understand, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he just watched as Moon quietly walked away, the sound of her retreating footsteps somehow louder than the ringing in his ears.

For the first time since he arrived, he felt truly alone.

LOVE SPEAKS!

Ekko and Moon have been dating for two years in this timeline! I had a feeling most people wouldn't like this book since the main love interest is dead the whole time. Sorry about that. I also definitely did not handle his reaction to her like I wanted and one of these days I'll go back and fix it.

Fun fact: There are multiple timelines where Vander and the kids don't die but Moon kills herself before any of the change happens. It's been hinted multiple times that Moon was VERY suicidal.

Fun fact #2: Moon is an art intern in Piltover. She prefers to work where no one can find her however.