𝐀𝐜𝐭 Three -- FIRST LOVE/LATE SPRING
  𝟎𝟎8: Oh, You think I'm Gone cus' I left
                    (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, epilouge)

EKKO woke with a start, the faint pulse of adrenaline rushing through his veins as he struggled to pull himself out of sleep. The room was dark and still, save for the pale light creeping through the cracks in the curtains. He sat up, drawing a breath that felt heavier than it should, the remnants of a dream clinging to him like cobwebs.

He pushed himself out of bed, the familiar routine guiding his feet across the cool floorboards. The movements were automatic now: head to the bathroom, splash water on his face, confront whatever waited for him in the mirror.

The bathroom light flickered as he turned it on, its hum filling the silence. Ekko hesitated, his hand lingering on the sink as he let the moment stretch. He knew what to expect.

The mirror stared back at him, its edges cracked, splitting his reflection into jagged fragments. For a fleeting moment, there was nothing unusual—just his own tired face, the dark circles under his eyes, the unkempt mess of his hair. But then, she appeared.

Moon.

She was there, as she always was, watching him from the corner of the reflection. But it wasn't the Moon who had laughed with Powder or painted quietly on the rooftop. It was the other one—the child she had been, her shoulders stooped under the weight of things she should never have had to bear. Her golden eyes were wide and hollow, fixed on him in silent accusation.

Ekko swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the edge of the sink. He didn't speak to her. He hadn't in years. The words had dried up long ago, leaving only the ritual: a glance, a breath, and the silent acceptance that she would always be there.

He turned the faucet on and splashed his face with cold water, the chill jolting him back to reality. But when he glanced back at the mirror, she was still there, unchanged, unblinking. A ghost too tired to haunt but too stubborn to leave.

"Not again," he muttered under his breath, turning away from the mirror entirely. He refused to give her more of his attention. But even as he left the room, he felt the weight of her presence lingering behind him, heavy and oppressive.

The change came slowly, so subtly that he didn't notice it at first.

One morning, after another restless night, Ekko stumbled into the bathroom, expecting to see her. He always did. But when he glanced at the mirror, he froze.

She was still there—but she wasn't the child anymore.

It was Moon, but not the fragile, hollow-eyed girl who had haunted him for so long. This was the Moon he had left behind in the alternate universe: older, steadier, her golden eyes filled with a quiet understanding that pierced through him in a way he couldn't explain. She didn't accuse him. She didn't look broken.

She looked free.

Ekko's breath hitched, and his hand reached for the edge of the sink to steady himself. She didn't move, but there was something in her expression—a small, knowing smile that made his chest ache.

He turned away, the sudden intensity of her presence overwhelming. But he couldn't stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder.

She was gone.

From that day on, she was everywhere.

He saw her in the trees, the leaves trembling as if touched by a hand he couldn't see. He felt her in the breeze that carried the faintest scent of oil paint and earth, the smell of her projects from years ago. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet moments, soft impressions on the ground that vanished before he could follow.

He saw her face in every place, but when he turned to reach her, she was gone again—dissolving into the air, untouchable and distant.

And yet, she wasn't the ghost she used to be. She wasn't haunting him anymore. She was reminding him.

Through the wading paths, the passing months, she was there. Not as a shadow of guilt or grief, but as a whisper of what once was and what could never be again. Her laughter was lighter now, carried on the wind. Her presence didn't press down on him anymore—it lingered around him, like a song he couldn't forget.

Ekko knew he couldn't catch her. He knew he wasn't meant to.

Moon wasn't a memory anymore. She wasn't a ghost. She was the leaves and the breeze, the stars in the sky and the silence between breaths.

She was everywhere.

But he couldn't catch her now. He didn't even try. And maybe, finally, he was learning how to let her go.

LOVE SPEAKS!

I wish I got to write more chapters of Moon and Ekko in the alternate universe but I needed it to be exactly eight chapters because there's a hidden message within them.

I do wish however that I stole an aspect from the show that people noticed which is no one telling Ekko straight up that they're dating and rather him having to find out and if I could do it again I would. Though I don't like timebomb so i don't want to steal too many aspects.

And with that I've officially finished a book for the first time ever!