𝐀𝐜𝐭 Two -- TELEPHONES
    𝟎𝟎6: Raspberry Vanilla
                (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, 02x07)

Edited

IT was cheesecake, by the way. Of course, Ekko wouldn't know that—he'd never even had cheesecake. The Ekko of this universe? It was his third favorite dessert. Because of course it was.

And Vander was wrong, for the record. Simply fixing things with Moon didn't fix things with Powder automatically. He had to practically get on his knees, pleading and cajoling until she finally agreed to hear him out. "You better not waste my time, Ekko," she'd grumbled, still half-annoyed.

But now she was listening, her sharp eyes scanning his schematics with reluctant interest. That was progress.

He hadn't told her everything, though. Not yet. How could he? But she deserved some of the truth. So he had told her the bare minimum, his voice unusually soft as he muttered, "Powder, I'm... stuck. I don't belong here. Not really."

Her reaction had been as blunt as he'd expected. "You're being cryptic, and I hate that. Just say what you mean."

"I can't," he admitted, sighing heavily. "But I need your help to build something. To fix this." He gestured vaguely at the schematics in front of her, unwilling to meet her sharp gaze. "Please, Powder. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

She hadn't asked many questions after that. Maybe she didn't want to. Maybe she just needed a distraction. Either way, she'd agreed to help, and that was enough for now.

The real problem? Tearing himself away from Moon.

Every time he told himself this is it, every time he resolved to leave her side and focus on the task at hand, she found a way to pull him back in.

A soft laugh that rang like a melody. The way her teeth grazed her lip as she worked on her sketches, her brow furrowed in thought. The occasional brush of her hand against his—featherlight, almost unintentional, but enough to make his pulse quicken.

And then, the way she'd lean in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered about something entirely mundane—but her voice made it feel like a secret meant only for him.

It was intoxicating. Addicting.

How was he supposed to walk away from that?

"Ekko," Powder's voice yanked him back to reality, sharp and unimpressed. She was perched at her workbench, her fingers deftly working on some intricate mechanism. "You do realize you've been staring at nothing for the past five minutes, right? Or... wait." She glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Were you staring at her again?"

"No," Ekko said quickly, but his voice betrayed him, shaky and far too defensive.

Powder's smirk was downright wicked. "Right. Sure. You weren't imagining her doing... whatever it is that makes you look like a lovesick idiot. Totally believable."

"I wasn't!" he protested, heat creeping up his neck.

"Uh-huh." Powder turned back to her work, shrugging like she didn't care. But she did, and he knew it. "Look, lover boy, if you're done fantasizing about my sister, we've got real work to do. Unless, of course, you're planning to let her distract you for the rest of your life."

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm trying, okay? It's just... complicated."

"It's always complicated with you," she muttered, gesturing at the half-built device on the table. "This thing isn't gonna build itself. And if you're serious about getting back to wherever it is you came from, you need to focus. Like, now."

Ekko knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier. Every part of him wanted to stay—wanted to fall back into the warmth of Moon's touch, into the way she looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered.

"I'll focus," he said finally, stepping closer to the table. "Let's just... get this done."

But even as the words left his lips, his resolve felt paper-thin. The memory of her touch, her lips, her body pressed against his still lingered, and deep down, he didn't want to leave her. Not yet. Not ever.

And as much as Powder adored her sister, she knew what had to be done.

"MoMo?" she called out, her voice light but pointed.

Moon was slumped over her sketchbook, her pencil gliding across the page in lazy, fluid strokes. She didn't bother to look up, simply humming in response—a soft sound of acknowledgment that was far more focused on whatever she was working on than on anything Powder had to say.

"You gotta go," Powder continued, her tone shifting into something more decisive.

That got Moon's attention. She blinked up from her sketchbook, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Because Heimerdinger's coming to help Ekko and me with this device," Powder explained, gesturing vaguely at the collection of parts and schematics scattered across the workbench. "And you're... well, you're distracting him."

Moon's confusion morphed into a sly smirk as her gaze flicked over to Ekko. "Am I?"

Ekko froze under her teasing stare, his ears burning. "I'm not distracted," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at her.

Powder snorted, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. You're so distracted. You've been staring at her like she's the only thing keeping the world spinning." She turned back to Moon. "So yeah, you gotta go. Just for a little while."

Moon leaned back in her chair, her smile growing. "I don't know, Pow. I think I'm being pretty helpful." She glanced at Ekko again, and he could see the glint of mischief in her eyes. "Aren't I, Ekko?"

"Super helpful," he muttered weakly, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes trained on her and her pretty eyes.

Powder rolled her eyes. "Right. And by helpful, you mean making him so distracted that he's basically useless right now." She waved a hand, shooing her sister toward the door. "Go sketch something somewhere else, MoMo. We've got serious work to do."

Moon pouted, but there was a playfulness to it. "Fine, fine. But don't keep him too long. Ekko promised me last week to help me take down my braids before the dance," she said, her voice lilting as she stood and stretched. She looked back at Ekko, her smile softening just a touch. "I'll be waiting."

And with that, she sauntered out of the room, her hips swaying just enough to make him wish he could follow.

Powder waited until the door clicked shut before turning to him, her expression deadpan. "You're welcome, lover boy. Now focus." A silence fell between them.

"Do you ever feel wrong?" Powder's voice cut through the quiet hum of the workshop, sharp and sudden.

Ekko paused mid-turn of his wrench, his brow furrowing. He didn't look at her right away. "What do you mean?"

Powder spun idly on her stool, her legs swinging back and forth. "For still kissing Moon, I mean. She's not technically your girlfriend. Just... a variant of her."

The words hit like a wrench to the chest. Ekko set the tool down, his fingers tightening reflexively around it before letting go. He turned to Powder, his expression unreadable.

"It's not like that," he said after a long pause, his voice low. "I mean... it's complicated."

Powder snorted, folding her arms. "Everything with you is complicated. But seriously, Ekko, doesn't it ever feel... I don't know, off? Like she's not your Moon?"

Ekko leaned against the edge of the table, his jaw tightening. His gaze flicked to the floor, then to a spot on the far wall, like looking at Powder might betray too much.

"She's not my Moon," he admitted quietly. "I know that. I know it every time I look at her and see the little differences. The way she talks, the way she smiles, even the way she sketches."

Powder raised an eyebrow. "But you're still kissing her."

"Yeah," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Why?"

Ekko dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. His lips parted, but the words seemed stuck, lodged behind a dam he wasn't sure he could break. After a moment, he finally said, "Because I can't be with the Moon from my world. Not anymore."

The air shifted between them, heavier now, weighted by something unspoken but felt. Powder's swinging legs slowed to a stop as she studied him, her sharp edges softening just a little.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Powder asked, quieter this time.

Ekko didn't answer, but the way his shoulders slumped, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides, said more than words ever could.

"And this Moon..." Powder tilted her head, her voice uncertain. "She's like a second chance, huh?"

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "If only it were that simple. I know she's not my Moon, but when I'm with her, it doesn't matter. It just feels... right. Like I can breathe again. Like I've been drowning all this time and didn't even realize it."

Powder studied him for a long moment, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "I guess I get it," she said finally. "She's your Moon, even if she isn't. Or... whatever. It's messy, but I get it."

He gave her a faint smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Messy's one word for it."

Powder shrugged, spinning her stool again. "Just don't screw it up. Or, you know, let her find out about the whole 'wrong universe' thing and make it more complicated."

Ekko laughed dryly, shaking his head. "Yeah, because it's not complicated enough already."

Powder smirked. "Glad we're on the same page."

A beat passed, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Am I like him... at all?" Ekko asked, his voice almost too soft to hear.

Powder pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes in thought. "Like who? Ekko?"

"Yes, well... your Ekko, I mean," he clarified, his gaze falling to his hands.

She tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and something sharper—something more cautious. Finally, she shrugged, turning back to her project with a small clink of metal.

"You're jumpier," she noted without looking at him. "More guarded. Like you've seen some things. Not that we all haven't, but you... you never fully healed from yours."

Ekko's throat tightened, but he didn't interrupt.

Powder continued, her voice oddly measured. "But you're both sick. Lovesick, that is. Loved Moon since the day Vander brought her home. You're both under whatever spell it seems to put you under. Ekko lets that girl get away with anything."

She smirked then, finally glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you think you had all those hickies—or even those ear piercings?"

Ekko blinked, instinctively running his thumb over the small gold hoop in his left ear. It felt foreign and familiar all at once, a remnant of someone else's life that had somehow become his.

Powder turned back to her project, her smirk softening into something more reflective. "You're both ambitious. Intelligent yet stupid at times. He's my best friend."

She trailed off for a moment, her focus shifting entirely to the delicate mechanism in front of her. Ekko watched her quietly, turning her words over in his mind.

The idea that he was so similar to this world's Ekko—yet shaped by entirely different pain—left an ache in his chest that he didn't know how to name.

"And I think you're great, man," Powder said, her tone surprisingly even, though her fingers never stopped fiddling with the gears and wires before her. "I think if you hadn't told me the truth, you might've pulled it off. You'd have taken his place, no problem. I'd probably chalk it up to competition jitters or something and never even suspect you weren't him."

Her gaze shifted briefly to him, a flicker of something unreadable in her expression. "You could've kept living this fantasy you love so much."

Ekko's hands paused on the device, the subtle hum of its energy filling the silence between them. Powder's voice softened, though her words struck harder. "But you're not him. And Moon loves him enough to figure it out. Sooner rather than later."

Ekko sat quietly, letting the weight of her words sink in. His jaw tensed, his focus shifting to the delicate circuitry in his hands.

"I wasn't planning to stay, you know," he muttered finally, his voice low and steady, though something fragile lingered in the undertone. "Take his place."

Powder glanced up at him, but didn't interrupt.

"I have people back home who need me," he continued, his fingers resuming their work on the device, the rhythmic clicks grounding him. "I think both Moons wouldn't appreciate me turning my back on people who need me in exchange for my own happiness." He hesitated, his throat tightening as the next words forced themselves out. "Even if it's not entirely mine."

He looked up briefly, meeting Powder's gaze for just a moment before returning to the device. "Because they both know that's not how I am."

Powder nodded slowly, her expression neutral but her eyes sharper than usual. "Guess it's a good thing we're getting this thing done then, huh?" she said lightly, though the words held an edge of something unspoken.

Ekko didn't respond, but the silence that followed wasn't an empty one. They both turned back to the task at hand, the unspoken truths lingering in the space between them.

"Though don't forget," Powder hummed, a teasing lilt in her voice as she adjusted a tiny mechanism in her hands. "Ekko was supposed to take her to the party tonight."

Ekko froze mid-adjustment, his hands halting on the delicate components of his device. He looked up sharply, his brow furrowed. "What party?"

Powder smirked, finally setting her tools down to face him. "The party, lover boy. You know, big event? Music, lights, the whole deal. Moon's been talking about it all week. She's helping Vander plan it."

He blinked, his mind racing. "She didn't... she didn't mention anything to me."

"Probably because she thought you already knew," Powder said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "You might've fooled me for a while, but Moon's got you on a schedule. And tonight, she's expecting you to show up with her on your arm. Not some excuse about being too busy tinkering."

Ekko felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest. He glanced down at the device, its faint glow mocking him. "I can't go," he muttered, more to himself than to Powder. "This—this needs to be finished. I don't have time for parties."

"Sure," Powder said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because ditching her for work is definitely the way to keep her from realizing you're not exactly the Ekko she knows."

Ekko groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "This isn't fair."

Powder tilted her head, her smirk softening just slightly. "Life's not fair, but if you ask me? You could use the distraction. And so could she. It's just one night, Ekko."

He hesitated, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. One night. One chance to live the life he knew he couldn't keep.

"She's gonna look amazing, by the way," Powder added, grinning. "Probably gonna spend all day getting ready. Not that she needs to. And if you're not there? She's not the only one who's gonna notice."

Ekko sighed, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of Powder's pointed look. "Fine," he muttered, "But if we're not finished and Heimerdinger wonders why I had to leave early I'm blaming you."

"Deal," Powder said with a laugh. "Just make sure to make her night Romeo."

MOON was the black sheep of her family. Not because she didn't fit in per se, but because she seemed to be the only one of her siblings who had zero interest in inventing for the sake of innovation. Sure, she invented things—masterpieces, even. But they weren't devices that purified the air or stopped time. 

Her creations were art. 

Intricate sculptures that seemed to breathe life into static metal. Paintings that danced with color and light, moving the soul in ways no machine ever could. She wove stories and emotions into every stroke, every weld, every design, creating worlds that were as functional as they were beautiful. 

And she didn't mind being the black sheep. 

Let her siblings impress the world with their groundbreaking machines, their revolutionary ideas. Let them earn the accolades and the fame. Moon was content to stay in her corner, crafting beauty for those who cared to see it. She didn't crave recognition; she craved connection. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, she wondered if they understood her at all. If they saw the value in her work. Or if they only saw her as the sister who "could've done so much more."

The question gnawed at her in quiet moments, like now, as she sat hunched over her workbench. The dim light illuminated her latest piece—a delicate sculpture of interlocking gears and shimmering stained glass, designed to catch and scatter sunlight into a kaleidoscope of colors. It wasn't practical, no, but it was alive in a way that machines never seemed to be. 

Her siblings, of course, would admire it with polite smiles. They might even compliment the craftsmanship, the intricacy, the precision. But they wouldn't get it. To them, it would always just be pretty. Nothing more. 

She sighed, picking up a fine tool to etch patterns along one of the metal surfaces. It was satisfying, this work. Meditative. But the doubt lingered, a quiet voice whispering in the back of her mind. 

If I stopped making these tomorrow, would anyone care? Would they even notice?

And then there was Ekko. 

He was different. He didn't just see her work; he saw her. He didn't ask why she wasn't building machines that could change the world. He never looked at her creations like they were less than. Instead, he traced the edges of her sculptures with awe, his eyes lighting up in a way that made her chest ache. 

"I don't know how you do it," he'd said once, his voice reverent. "You don't just make things, Moon. You make them feel something." 

It was one of the kindest things anyone had ever said to her, and it had lodged itself deep in her heart, a seed of warmth she wasn't sure what to do with. 

And yet, even with Ekko, there were things she couldn't say. 

Like how much it scared her to see herself through his eyes. How much it terrified her to be truly known. Because what if she wasn't enough? What if the Moon he saw, the Moon he cared for, wasn't real? 

She shook her head, brushing the thought away. That was the thing about being the black sheep—you learned to carry your doubts quietly, without letting them weigh you down. 

Her hand faltered as she thought of him again, his voice, his touch, the way his gaze lingered a little too long, like he was trying to memorize her. He made her feel things she wasn't sure she was ready to feel, made her want things she wasn't sure she deserved. 

But Ekko was Ekko—steady, brilliant, impossible not to trust. And for now, that was enough. 

With a deep breath, Moon set her tool down and leaned back, studying her work. The sculpture caught the light just right, sending a cascade of color dancing across the walls. It was beautiful, maybe one of her best pieces yet. 

And for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe that it was enough. That she was enough. 

Moon sighed, tugging at one of the loose braids the machine had just undone. Powder's invention was efficient—too efficient, really. It hummed and clicked as it unraveled her hair with robotic precision, finishing in minutes what used to take hours.

It got the job done. But it wasn't him.

She didn't use it often. Why would she? Taking down her braids had always been their thing—Ekko's hands in her hair, his quiet laugh when she'd complain about how tangled it was. The way he'd lean close, his focus so intense it was almost funny.

But tonight, she didn't even bother waiting. She knew he wasn't coming.

Because that wasn't him.

Not really.

This Ekko—the one who smiled like he meant it but didn't quite reach her—wasn't hers. He wasn't the boy who had patiently untangled her hair a hundred times before. He wasn't the boy who made everything feel softer, warmer, real.

She reached for a loose tie and snapped it between her fingers, letting the machine finish its job.

It was efficient, sure. But cold. And maybe that was better. Because the Ekko who had made her feel like she mattered, who had taken her hands in his and called her his Moon—he wasn't here.

And deep down, she knew: he might never be there again.

It wasn't that he was colder, or that he seemed to love her any less, despite his outburst yesterday morning. But somehow, it still wasn't him.

Between the time he'd dropped her off at his workshop and the time she'd come back to The Last Drop, something had shifted. He'd changed—become some other version of himself.

Moon sighed, running her fingers through the freshly loosened strands of her hair. This Ekko still looked at her like she hung the stars, still kissed her like he'd memorized the shape of her lips. But he wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't the Ekko who used to sneak her into rooftop gardens just to stargaze. He wasn't the Ekko who'd snuck her into a Piltover conference so she could display her art pieces and win her internship, or the one who whispered dumb inside jokes into her ear during long nights at The Drop.

He wasn't the Ekko who pressed flowers between the pages of his notebooks and handed them to her when she least expected it, the one who made her laugh until she cried, the one who placed soft kisses on her neck when he thought no one was around.

But he still said her name softly, like it was something fragile. He still smiled at her like she was the answer to every question he'd ever asked.

And as long as he took her to the dance tonight, she'd be okay with pretending. Just for one night.

THE room buzzed with energy as Ekko stepped into the heart of the celebration. The Last Drop had been transformed for the night, its rough edges softened by strings of lights that cast a warm glow across the space. A makeshift dance floor had been cleared, and the music hummed low in the background, promising to swell as the night wore on. People were already gathered in groups, laughing, sipping drinks, and swaying to the rhythm. It felt alive, like a spark about to ignite into something unforgettable. 

Ekko had barely stepped through the door when Benzo's voice cut through the din. 

"*Hey, you nervous, kid?*" 

Ekko turned, meeting the older man's teasing grin as he approached. 

"Big day tomorrow. Where's the little lady?" 

Ekko felt the question land like a weight in his chest. He'd barely made it to Vander's place earlier, and when he stepped into Moon's room, she was gone. Her sketchbook was closed on her desk, her things neatly in place, as if she'd just vanished into thin air. It had been foolish to think no one would notice her absence, especially when people were so used to seeing her at his side. 

"She's running a little late," he lied smoothly, the words slipping from his tongue with practiced ease. "You know how she is." 

Benzo chuckled knowingly. "Oh yeah, always quite the spectacle. Whether she wants to be or not." 

"Yeah," Ekko muttered, forcing a small smile. 

He watched Benzo for a moment, taking in the familiar lines of his face, the way his laugh crinkled his eyes. Something about the scene—the lights, the voices, the sense of community—felt fragile, as if it could shatter at any moment. 

"Hey," Ekko said, his voice quieter now. "In case I don't remember to tell you tomorrow, you've always meant the world to me, Benzo." 

"Oh," Benzo stammered, caught off guard. "You, uh, ach. Uh, you... Oh, don't get all mushy on me now." 

They laughed as Benzo pulled him into a quick hug, patting his back awkwardly. 

"Making the big man misty, are you?" Vander's voice rumbled behind them, full of warmth and humor. 

"Oh, these damned allergies," Benzo retorted, rubbing his eyes and sniffling dramatically. 

Vander clapped a hand on Ekko's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "You should be proud of yourself, Ekko," he said. "Powder's been raving about your Z-Drive. Can't remember the last time I saw her so alive." 

Ekko smirked shyly, ducking his head at the praise. 

"I have a feeling you'll be running this place soon," Vander added with a grin. 

Before Ekko could respond, another voice rang out, smooth and sharp. 

"So there's a chance for us yet." 

Ekko's head whipped around, his expression tightening as Silco stepped into the room. His lean frame was unmistakable, his mismatched eyes glinting with that ever-present edge of mischief and menace. 

"You?" Ekko asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. 

Silco smiled, his lips curling in that calculated way of his. "Didn't think I'd miss your big day, did you?"  "Didn't you try to kill him?"

Vander's and Silco's smiles faltered for just a beat before they returned to their usual bravado. 

"The greatest thing we can do in life is find the power to forgive," Vander said, his tone steady but touched with something unspoken. 

"Besides," Silco added, his grin widening, "'Viva would have killed me if I didn't get her to see Powder all dressed up." 

"Oh, she's back in town?" Vander asked, his curiosity piqued. 

Silco nodded. "Came to see her old man yesterday. She'll be staying with me for the week." 

Ekko raised his drink to his lips, hiding a small smile as he took a sip. The lights dimmed, and the music shifted, signaling the start of the next part of the night. The air crackled with anticipation. 

Somewhere in the crowd, he thought, Moon was probably watching. And even if this wasn't the life he was supposed to be living, for now, he'd play along. Just a little longer.

Powder sprinted up to them, nearly skidding to a halt as she shoved a small, tattered notebook into Ekko's hands. "Hold this!" she demanded breathlessly. 

Ekko blinked down at the notebook, caught off guard. "What—?" 

"Viva asked me to dance!" Powder practically squealed, her face lighting up in a way he hadn't seen in years. She twirled in place, her usual chaotic energy now channeled into uncontainable excitement. "Viva. Can you believe that? She looks so good. How's my hair?" She asked running a hand through it.

Benzo chuckled, crossing his arms. "Big night for you, huh?" 

Powder nodded furiously before her giddy expression twisted into curiosity. "Wait. Hey, where's Moon?" 

Ekko hesitated, his grip tightening slightly around the notebook. "She's... running late." 

"Late? For a dance?" Powder raised an eyebrow. "Moon? The same girl who plans her outfits two weeks in advance and gives me a countdown every day leading up to these things? You sure?" 

"She's probably just, uh, touching up her hair or something," he lied, trying to sound casual. 

Powder tilted her head, scrutinizing him for a moment, he forgot her and she knew that. But unfortunately when she glanced over in the other direction, seeing Viva's piercing eyes waiting for her expectantly all anger she had fizzled. "Weird. Anyway, keep that safe, okay? It's got all my notes for the upgrades I was gonna pitch to Heimerdinger." 

She started to dart off toward the dance floor but stopped mid-step, spinning back around to jab a finger at him. "And tell Moon not to bail on this, got it? This is her scene! If she doesn't show, I'm blaming you." 

Before Ekko could respond, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd with a bounce in her step. 

"Weird." Silco muttered, Ekko's words caught in his throat as Silco's remark hit him. He snapped his head toward the man, eyes narrowing. "She's just running late, I swear—"

Silco raised an eyebrow, cutting him off. "Viva can't dance," he continued casually, taking a sip of his drink. "As for Moon.."

The group of men turned in unison, conversations halting as Moon stepped into the room. The air shifted immediately, a collective pause settling over the crowd as all eyes fixed on her.

Her braids were gone, replaced by a halo of soft, natural curls that framed her face like a crown. The lighting in the room seemed to catch every coil, giving her Afro a golden glow that rivaled the chandeliers above. Her rich, warm brown skin gleamed, as if kissed by the light itself, a soft shimmer tracing the curve of her collarbones and shoulders.

She wore a fitted gold dress, the color of molten sunlight. The fabric hugged her figure in all the right ways, stopping just above her knees. Its subtle sheen highlighted the delicate pattern of swirls embroidered into the material, catching the light with every movement. The neckline dipped just enough to be alluring without losing its elegance, and thin straps rested against her shoulders, leaving her arms bare save for the golden bangles stacked on one wrist.

Her makeup was understated, just enough to accentuate her features—a warm bronze highlight along her cheekbones, a touch of gold on her eyelids, and a deep berry gloss on her lips. She was striking in a way that made it hard to look away, and the effortless grace with which she moved only heightened her allure. She wasn't overdone—Moon didn't need to be. Her beauty was natural, radiant, and so entirely her.

She walked with an easy confidence, her heels clicking softly against the floor, each step measured and deliberate. Moon didn't need to announce her presence; her mere existence commanded it. People turned to watch her, captivated.

Some stared with envy, wishing they could be her—so composed, so commanding without effort. Others watched with longing, wondering what it would feel like to stand by her side, to be the one she might look at that way. The attention wasn't forced, and it wasn't sought after—it was simply inevitable.

Moon's very presence demanded it. She didn't just walk into the room; she owned it, even if she didn't mean to.

Ekko's breath hitched, his gaze locked on her as she approached. She seemed almost otherworldly, like something too brilliant to be real. Her eyes found his, and for a brief moment, he swore the rest of the room ceased to exist.

Moon wasn't just beautiful. She was a masterpiece, alive and breathing, and in that gold dress, she might as well have been the sun.

His gaze following her every move. She was walking toward him, but in that moment, she seemed untouchable, like a fallen star no one dared to reach for. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hold her hand or fall to his knees.

Moon made her way across the room, her golden dress catching every flicker of light like ripples on water. The room seemed to part for her as she walked, people instinctively moving aside, their gazes trailing after her in awe or envy. She wasn't rushing, but Ekko could tell—there was a weight to her steps, a tightness in her jaw. She was upset.

When she reached the bar, the conversation there halted. Vander offered her a warm smile, tipping his glass. "Well, don't you clean up nicely, kid."

Moon returned the smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, big guy. You're not looking so bad yourself."

"Didn't think you could outshine the lights in this place, but here we are," Benzo added with a laugh. "You're gonna put us all to shame."

"Appreciate the flattery," Moon said, sliding onto the barstool next to Silco. Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of something underneath—a sharpness only Ekko could recognize.

Silco raised his glass to her in mock salute. "Well, if it isn't Zaun's fallen angel gracing us with her presence. Though I suppose even angels can be fashionably late."

Moon arched a brow at him, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Better late than never, right? Besides, I had to make sure I wasn't overdressed for the occasion."

"Overdressed?" Benzo scoffed. "You're exactly dressed. Hell, you're why people showed up in the first place."

She laughed, a soft sound that carried just enough warmth to keep things friendly. "Careful, Benzo. Keep buttering me up, and I might start charging for appearances."

The group chuckled, but Ekko stayed quiet, fiddling with his glass. He could feel her glance shift toward him, the tension between them palpable.

"Where were you?" she asked suddenly, cutting through the easy banter. Her voice was steady, but her eyes bore into his.

"I—uh—" Ekko stammered, caught off guard. He scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence suddenly deserting him. "I thought... I mean, I figured you'd already be here."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "I see. You'd thought I'd be here when I asked you to meet at my place? Right."

The air between them grew thick, and even Silco seemed to sense it, quietly sipping his drink instead of chiming in with one of his usual quips.

Vander cleared his throat, trying to cut the tension. "Moon, can I get you something? Maybe a drink on the house?"

She turned to him, her smile returning, though it still didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, Vander. Just water for now."

Powder came bounding up before anyone could say anything more, her giddy energy cutting through the moment. "Moon! Viva asked me to dance!" she exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Moon's expression softened as she turned toward her sister, her annoyance with Ekko momentarily shelved. "She did? Well, look at you, Powder. Getting all the attention tonight. Then why are you up here with little ol' me instead of dancing with the future Mrs. Powder?"

"Right?!" Powder beamed seemingly ignoring the rest of Aviva's teasing. "Oh, but I need you to fix this strap on my dress first—please, please, please!"

Moon chuckled and stood, her fingers already reaching for the problem. "Alright, let's see what we're working with."

As she worked on Powder's dress, Ekko watched her, guilt gnawing at him. He'd messed up, and he knew it. Moon wasn't just upset because he hadn't shown up to help with her hair. It was more than that—it was the principle. He'd let her down, and in doing so, it reminded him that he wasn't the one she was expecting. She was expecting her loving boyfriend who would hang the stars in the sky if she asked. Or perhaps the version of him that remained present in this universe. And yet she got neither today.

Vander clapped a hand on Ekko's shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. "You've got some work to do, kid," he said, his voice low enough not to carry. "Don't let her slip through your fingers."

Ekko nodded, but his stomach churned. He wasn't sure if he even deserved the chance to fix this.

Ekko stepped forward, his nerves tight in his chest as he called out to her. "Moon," he said, his voice softer than he intended. She turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Can I have this dance?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed his wrist without hesitation and tugged him toward a quieter corner of the room, away from the murmuring crowd. "Why didn't you show up?" she asked, her voice low but sharp, her eyes searching his face.

Ekko opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He had no good excuse for leaving her waiting, but the truth was a bit too messy, too tangled in the chaos of everything else. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration settling in his chest. "I... I just got caught up," he finally muttered, "with everything going on. I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

Moon's eyes narrowed, but her shoulders softened a little. "You're full of shit, Ekko. Don't make excuses. You promised me you'd be there, and then you weren't. It's not like you to pull that."

He swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him. "I know. I messed up, Moon. I've been messing up so much recently," He stepped a bit closer, his voice quiet but sincere. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

Moon studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before she let out a slow sigh. "Well, you're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight. I look too good to be upset right now," Her lips curved up into a small, teasing smile. "Guess I'll let you make it up to me. But don't think I've forgotten."

Ekko's heart gave a relieved thud. "So... will you dance with me now?" he asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Moon hesitated, then nodded, her smile widening. "Yeah. Yeah, I will." She placed her hand in his, and just like that, the weight that had been pressing on his chest began to ease as they moved back into the crowd, the music pulling them closer together.

The music pulsed through the room, thick with bass and rhythm, the kind that made your heart beat in time with the track. Ekko and Moon joined the crowd, swaying along with the energy of the party. Moon, grinning wildly, spun away from him, letting her braids swirl with the movement, her gold dress catching the light with every twist.

Ekko's gaze lingered on her, transfixed. The way she moved—free and effortless—wasn't just captivating, it was mesmerizing. She wasn't just dancing; she was living. The whole room seemed to fade into the background as Ekko found himself lost in the way her body flowed with the music, her joy so infectious it pulled him in. Her laughter rang out, blending with the beat, as she threw her head back, her hair wild and full. The golden shimmer of her dress and the deep darkness of her skin seemed to glow under the dim lights, and Ekko couldn't tear his eyes away.

The realization hit him like a wave. This version of Moon—this person, this moment—was something he would never have again. In his universe, Moon was gone, and he was left with nothing but the haunting memory of what could've been. But here, in this version of reality, she was alive, vibrant, and undeniably hers—alive in a way his Moon would never be. He was dancing with her, yes, but it was bittersweet. He wasn't supposed to be here.

She caught his eye, then spun toward him again, and he was jerked out of his thoughts. Her hand grabbed his, pulling him closer, and Ekko couldn't help but grin, his chest tight with emotion he didn't know how to express. She was too perfect. Too real.

"Come on, stop looking so serious!" she teased, her voice light and full of mischief. She bumped into him with a playful nudge before pulling back, her hands up in the air as she danced around him, laughing.

He shook his head, fighting the lump in his throat. "I'm trying, but it's hard when you're... distracting."

"Distracting?" Moon laughed louder, the sound filling the space between them. "Oh please, I'm just getting started!" She spun again, the gold of her dress flashing with every turn.

Ekko couldn't help it. He laughed, too, his heart lighter for a moment, the weight of the past universe still pressing but more distant now. He followed her, the rhythm taking over. They were moving, not in sync, but in a way that made everything feel easier. Her energy was too much to resist, and for tonight, it was enough. It had to be.

Moon shot him a wink, then dipped low into the crowd, pulling Ekko along with her. He followed, completely lost in the moment, every beat of the music echoing the rush of feelings he didn't know how to put into words. He was here with her—this Moon—and for just one night, he would let that be enough.

THE two of them sat on the edge of the building, the night air cool against their skin, as the city sprawled below them in a tapestry of lights. Moon's head rested in Ekko's chest, her body curled comfortably in his lap, her fingers idly tracing the seams of his jacket. His hand stroked her hair lazily, his fingers gliding through the soft waves, as they both stared out at the distant skyline. The world below hummed with life, but up here, everything felt still, suspended in that rare moment of peace.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, soft and unhurried.

Then, with a quiet murmur that broke the calm, Moon's voice cut through the air, thick with something Ekko couldn't place.

"You're not him, are you?"

Her words hit like a sudden gust of wind. Ekko froze, his hand pausing mid-motion, and the world felt like it held its breath. He wasn't sure how to answer—how could he? Her voice was low, almost like she already knew the answer, and yet, there was a flicker of something in her tone, something searching.

He swallowed hard. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying for casual, but his voice betrayed him—tighter, less confident than he wanted it to be.

She didn't lift her head, but her gaze drifted to the horizon, her expression distant, contemplative. "You're not the Ekko I know," she said slowly, like she was unraveling something thread by thread. "The one I grew up with. The one who..."

She trailed off, her words left hanging in the night air, unfinished and fragile. Ekko's chest tightened. He could feel the weight of the truth pressing against him, suffocating him. How could he explain this without ruining everything?

"You're not my boyfriend."

"I'm not," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm from another world. I can't explain it all to you. And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner."

Moon's body shifted in his lap, and for the briefest moment, Ekko thought she might pull away, but she didn't. She stayed there, still, her face unreadable, and her fingers lightly tracing his thigh. The night continued on around them—people laughing, cars honking, the hum of a city that never quite stopped. But in that moment, it felt like they were suspended in another dimension, untouchable by time.

A long pause hung between them. Moon didn't look up, but her lips parted, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, quieter, like she was piecing something together.

"So you're him... but you're not," she murmured, a small, bitter smile curling at the edges of her mouth. "But you're still here."

Ekko's heart clenched. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words felt clumsy, out of reach. "I never meant to stay," he confessed, his fingers gently stroking the back of her neck, trying to find some comfort in the act. "I have people back home. I just... got caught up in everything this version of the world feels like."

Moon shifted again, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes, her gaze searching, and yet somehow softened. There was something in it, something unspoken, that made his chest ache with the weight of it. "I don't know if I should be angry at you for that," she said, her voice thick with a wry smile. Her fingers danced lazily across his chest. "Will I get him back?"

Ekko sighed, "You should if all goes well."

Her gaze softened, her lips curving into a delicate, almost sad smile. "Not that you're not great too," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You're him after all. But you're not my Ekko. I miss him, and I'm sure your Moon misses you."

And with that, the silence stretched again, but it felt different now—more comfortable, more certain, like the weight of the unspoken truth had found its place between them, something they could finally share without pretending.

"You think I have a Moon." He murmured, she nuzzled back into him, nodding. "I think in every universe, no matter the outcome, we find each other."

The words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of a truth neither of them fully understood yet. Ekko swallowed hard, trying to process her words, to process the way his heart clenched in his chest. He hadn't expected to hear her say that—so simply, so matter-of-factly.

"You really think that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers gently brushed the strands of her hair back from her face, his touch almost tender, like he was afraid to break the fragile moment between them.

Moon didn't answer immediately, her eyes closing for a moment as she leaned into his touch. She seemed to find comfort in the silence, her breath steady and slow against his chest. Then, with a soft sigh, she murmured, "I think you and I... we're always finding our way back to each other. In every universe, in every life. No matter how broken we are or how far we are apart."

Ekko's chest tightened again, a quiet ache blooming inside him. "You're right," he whispered. "Maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe I was always supposed to find you."

Moon shifted slightly, tilting her head back to meet his eyes, her gaze soft but unwavering. "Maybe," she said, her voice full of a quiet certainty. "But it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Not getting the version of someone you want. Not having him fully here with you."

Ekko felt the sting of that, the ache of something he could never give her, something he couldn't change. "I wish I could be everything you need," he murmured, regret curling in his chest. "But I can't be him. Not entirely."

Her fingers traced the curve of his jaw, her touch light but steady. "No," she said softly. "You can't. But maybe that's okay."

The quiet settled between them again, more peaceful this time. Ekko held her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath against him. They didn't need to say more; they both understood the weight of what had been said, and the quiet acceptance that followed.

"You really think we'll find each other again?" Ekko asked, almost as if he needed reassurance, needing to hear it aloud, even though he wasn't sure why.

Moon smiled softly, the edges of her lips lifting just enough to show the hint of her true warmth. "I do. Always." She paused, her gaze lingering on him for a long moment. "But it won't be me. Maybe this time, you'll just make sure you're both ready."

Ekko nodded slowly, his heart thudding softly in his chest. The night stretched on, the city lights blinking like stars below, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, Ekko felt the quiet peace of being exactly where he needed to be—beside her, even if just for tonight.

And maybe that was enough. For now.

Ekko's fingers trailed gently down her arm, the softest of touches that seemed to speak more than words could. Moon's gaze softened, her eyes flickering between his lips and his eyes. The air between them felt charged, like the weight of all that was left unsaid hovered just inches from their skin.

It was almost as if everything in the universe had fallen silent, waiting for the inevitable moment when they would finally close the gap.

Ekko's breath caught for a moment as he leaned in closer, his lips inches from hers. "Moon..." he murmured, his voice soft and tentative, like he wasn't entirely sure where the moment would take them.

She tilted her head slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What's up, Ekko?" she asked, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

Ekko hesitated for just a second, then asked quietly, "What lip balm are you wearing right now?"

She raised an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Wanna guess?" she teased, her fingers brushing against his cheek, a gentle touch. "I don't think you'll get it."

Ekko's lips curved into a playful grin. "Alright, I'm game." He leaned in even closer, his lips just brushing hers, and whispered, "Just wanna find out."

Moon's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's the way you play it, huh?" she said with a wink before closing the distance between them, pressing her lips softly to his.

The kiss was slow, deliberate. Ekko felt the familiar warmth of her lips, the soft taste of the lip balm on them, and a sense of comfort settled over him as he tried to discern the flavor. He pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he exhaled. "Hmm... I'm going to say... raspberry?"

Her grin widened, a knowing look in her eyes. "You're close..." she murmured, leaning in again and kissing him once more, this time a little deeper, her lips soft and inviting.

As they pulled apart, Ekko's hand gently cupped her face. "Raspberry vanilla, huh?" he said with a smile, a spark of victory in his voice. "You're right, I guess I'm just getting better at this."

Moon's laughter was soft, like music, as she touched her lips to his once more, a playful peck. "You are. I see all that practice worked," she teased, her voice low and filled with warmth.

It was a warmth he'd never truly feel again. But he had it now, so he supposed he didn't mind it, the fleeting nature of it all.

LOVE SPEAKS!

We won't have a scene of Moon finding the little device that Ekko tried to use to leave like Powder did because 1. She's not powder and 2. My favorite sitcom is the Good Place. You'll see what the means in a next chapter. Two more chapters + an epilogue to go

This chapter has been edited because when copy and pasting this from my notes app I cut out a whole part of the last scene. And I kept giving Moon braids on accident, she has her natural hair rn.

Fun fact: Viva is Aviva from Headlock on a technicality. It's not her exactly it's not even the version of her that's stolen from Piltover or anything it's just a variant that still loves Powder because unlike Ekko and Moon, Powder and Aviva are together in almost every universe.

Fun fact #2: This Moon scares Ekko because she's genuinely a happy person whereas his Moon may have experienced happiness at times but she wasn't a happy person, she was extremely depressed and Ekko isn't used to it (please let me know if I captured his uneasiness well enough in this chapter)