𝐀𝐜𝐭 Three -- FIRST LOVE/LATE SPRING
                  𝟎𝟎7: Get Over It
                     (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, 02x07)

EKKO rubbed his thumb over the back of her hands, his touch lingering like he was afraid to let go. Moon stared at him, her soft smile masking the weight she felt pressing down on them both.

"I need you to do me one last favor," he said, his voice quieter than a whisper, each word etched with a trembling finality.

"Anything," she replied, her smile unwavering, though her brows furrowed just slightly.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. "Say goodbye to me now... and leave when I turn my back. Don't look back."

Her smile faltered, just for a moment, and she gently shook her head. "Ekko—"

"I'll find you again," he cut her off, his voice catching as he forced himself to meet her eyes. "It won't be you, but I'll find you again."

Moon froze, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. She watched as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box, its edges smooth and worn as though he had held it a thousand times before.

"Take this," he said, placing it into her hands and curling her fingers around it. "But don't open it until I'm gone."

Her hands trembled slightly as she held the box, her throat tightening. "You don't have a me. Do you?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Ekko's face broke into the faintest of smiles, bittersweet and weary. "You'll have him," he said softly. "But I'll never have you. Not really. That's why you can't look back. Because I won't be able to leave if you do."

"I do love you—"

"Don't," he cut her off sharply, his voice rising just enough to sting. His hands dropped from hers, his shoulders tensing as he stepped back. "Please," he pleaded, his voice quieter now, trembling with raw vulnerability. "Please don't say you love me. Not if it's not real."

Moon froze, her chest tightening as his words sank in. "But I—"

"Not if it's not me you're saying it to," he interrupted again, his voice breaking. His eyes glistened, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. "Please, Moon. Don't make this harder than it already is."

Her throat constricted, and for a moment, she considered fighting him, but the look in his eyes—the way they begged her for release—made her stop. "Okay," she whispered, her voice cracking like glass under pressure.

The weight of his words pressed between them, heavy and final. Moon's lips quirked into a sad smile, her tears glistening in the moonlight but refusing to fall. "You're stubborn, you know that?" she whispered. He took a reluctant step forward, holding her hands once again, feeling her for what he knew would be the last time.

"Yeah, I've heard," he replied with a shaky chuckle, his eyes bright but full of sorrow.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, neither willing to let go, but Ekko finally stepped back, his hands sliding away from hers. He turned before she could say anything else, the tension in his shoulders betraying just how much he was holding back.

Moon stood there, clutching the box to her chest, watching his figure retreat into the night. She kept her promise. She didn't look back, not because it would hurt her—but because it would hurt him.

And when she finally opened the box, long after he was gone, she found a small gold ring

The ring itself was deceptively simple at first glance—a thin band of tarnished gold, aged and imperfect, as though it had existed long before either of them were born. Upon closer inspection, intricate engravings wrapped around the band in a seamless loop. The design featured a serpentine ouroboros, its tail in its mouth, symbolizing eternity and the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth.

Nestled at the top of the band, where a gem might traditionally sit, was a small, perfectly polished crescent moon carved from obsidian. The crescent, a universal symbol of transition and growth, represented Moon herself—a guiding light even in darkness. Surrounding the moon were tiny etched stars, their positions subtly hinting at constellations meaningful to Ekko and his memories of her—ones they had traced together during late nights on rooftops, dreaming of futures they could never quite reach.

On the underside of the band, hidden from plain view, was a delicate engraving of the a gear, woven seamlessly into the ouroboros design. The gear represented Ekko's connection to time—his unending attempts to repair and rewind the past—and his inevitable departure from this world.

The entire ring was crafted to reflect both of them: Moon's light and artistry, Ekko's time and resilience, and the eternity that bound them in every universe. It wasn't extravagant; it didn't need to be. It was a quiet promise, worn thin by time, and yet enduring—just like their connection. A part of him, left behind, in a world where he could never truly stay.

She sighed, her thumb tracing over the ring's cool surface, feeling the intricate details under her fingertips. The ouroboros coiled seamlessly around the band, its head meeting its tail in a quiet testament to eternity. Her gaze lingered on the crescent moon etched in obsidian, framed by faint stars that almost seemed to shimmer in the dim light. It was so distinctly Ekko—delicate and thoughtful, yet quietly profound.

Turning the band over, she noticed the engraving inside, its delicate script catching the light just enough to be legible:

"Where time can't reach us."

EKKO might have been the most selfless person alive.

God knew it. So why did He punish him so?

When Ekko finally returned to his own timeline, it felt as though he had been cast out of a dream he could never revisit. The journey back had left him hollow, the echoes of what he had sacrificed still ringing in his ears. The Moon he had left behind—bright, resilient, and impossibly alive—was now a memory, and stepping back into his reality felt like plunging into an abyss.

Zaun was in flames. Shimmer had consumed the city, its toxicity seeping into the bones of its people, turning hope into hunger and families into fractured shadows. Piltover's retaliation struck swift and merciless, and the fragile foundations of Zaun cracked further with every attack. Ekko hit the ground running.

But the cracks weren't just in the city.

Heimerdinger was gone. Ekko had no time to ask how, no room in his life for the grief that clawed at him. All he knew was that the yordle—his friend, his mentor, a source of steadiness in an unsteady world—was no longer there. Heimerdinger had always been a reminder that resilience could be quiet, that brilliance could coexist with kindness. His absence was a void that Ekko felt more keenly with every passing moment.

But there was no time to grieve. Zaun needed him.

And Jinx.

Jinx had become a force of chaos too wild to contain. She tore through the city with reckless fury, leaving destruction in her wake. Ekko faced her over and over, trying to stop her, trying to reach her. There were moments when he almost believed he could. In the flicker of hesitation before she pulled the trigger. In the way her laughter wavered, as though she wasn't sure who it was meant to mock—him, or herself.

He saved her life more times than he could count. From shimmer-fueled suicide attempts. From her own explosions. From the enemies she created by existing.

But Jinx didn't want to be saved.

And in the end, no matter how hard he fought, no matter how much of himself he poured into her redemption, she slipped through his fingers.

When it was over, when the fires of war dimmed to embers and Zaun stood battered but alive, Ekko realized there was nothing left to hold onto. The city could rebuild. Its people would heal, in time. But the pieces he had fought to save—the faces of the past that had haunted him, driven him—were gone.

Jinx was gone.

And so was the tree.

Lunaris. He had named it after her, a tribute to Moon's memory, a testament to what she had meant to him. It was under that tree that he had built his Timewinder device, where he had learned to shape time to his will. It had been a symbol of hope, of possibility.

But now, as Ekko stood beneath its shattered branches, it felt like losing her all over again.

The once-vibrant leaves were brown and brittle, the roots splintered and exposed. The air was heavy and still, the kind of silence that pressed against his chest like a weight. He had fought so hard, sacrificed so much, and still, Lunaris remained broken.

He knelt at its base, his fingers brushing against the cold bark. The tree was her legacy, the last piece of her he had in this world. And it was gone, just as she was. He stayed there for hours, staring at the remains, willing it to come back to life, to give him even a sliver of hope. But the branches didn't bud. The roots didn't heal.

Ekko felt hollow in a way he hadn't since the day he had pulled Moon's body from the sea. It was a cruel reminder that no matter how hard he fought, some things couldn't be fixed.

Eventually, he rose. His legs felt like lead, his chest tight with grief. He left Lunaris behind, the weight of his failure pressing heavier with each step.

He found himself at the ledge.

It was the same spot where Moon had stood beside him in another life. Where she had told him to live, even if it meant letting go. The memory of her here was vivid—her voice, her touch, the way she had looked at him with those brown eyes that seemed to see straight through him.

Ekko stood at the edge, staring out over the city. The wind brushed against his face, carrying faint whispers of her voice, her laugh. He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him.

She was here. In the rustle of the wind through the ruins of Lunaris. In the quiet hum of the city below. In the ache that filled his chest, a pain so deep it felt like she had carved herself into his very soul.

She was everywhere.

And yet, she was nowhere.

Ekko opened his eyes, tears slipping down his face as he took a shaky breath. This was where it ended—not with her, not with Lunaris, but with him. This was where he let go of the dream he had carried for so long.

But even as he stood there, the weight of her presence pressed against him.

Ekko whispered her name into the wind.

And in the silence that followed, he almost thought he heard her whisper it back.

LOVE SPEAKS!

One chapter left. This is one of my favorite books I've written thank you for 1k reads and all your support. If you have questions since this was rushed I'll have a section on the very last chapter.

But yea unfortunately Ekko doesn't stay in the alternate universe or anything I want to make it clear that though it seemed like Moon loved him it wasn't technically him because she loved her boyfriend Ekko. Not this one.

Fun Fact: multiple times before he enters the alternate universe Ekko describes/envisions Moon incorrectly, too subtly to be picked up on however, because he's forgetting what she looks like.

Fun Fact #2: Moon was crying not because she'd miss him per se but because she genuinely pitied him for not having a version of her to be with. She would lose her mind if she didn't have her Ekko and she finds it so sad that he doesn't have his Moon.