𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 -- 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐞𝐲
             𝟎𝟎𝟗: Forget
                     (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, Stay Ready)

𝐍𝐎𝐖, you'd think after all that, Ekko would have finally exited the dreaded friend zone.
And trust him—he'd love to tell you that he did.

He'd love to tell you that Moon caught onto every lingering glance, every subtle shift in his tone when he talked to her. That she noticed the way his fingers would sometimes hover over hers when they worked on something together. Or how he always managed to find himself at her side, like a moth drawn to a flame he swore wasn't going to burn him.

He'd love to say that she finally saw him the way he saw her—that she noticed the way his heart twisted every time she smiled, the way he hung onto her every word like it was air and he couldn't breathe without it.

And maybe... maybe she did notice. Maybe she saw every awkward, fumbling attempt to get closer to her and simply chose not to say anything. Maybe she knew.

But that's not what he could tell you. Not honestly, anyway. Because that's simply not what happened.

Ekko stayed in that maddening, bittersweet purgatory of being Moon's closest confidant—the one who walked her home late at night when she felt uneasy, the one she'd lean her head on during long, quiet moments when the weight of Zaun seemed to press down on her. The one who learned all the little things about her that she didn't share with anyone else.

It wasn't that she didn't care. She did. He knew she did. But Moon had a way of pulling people in while keeping them just far enough away to make them wonder if they were the ones imagining it all. And maybe that's why, despite everything, Ekko found himself unable to let go of the idea that maybe, just maybe, this time, he'd be different.

There were moments that felt almost like proof. Moments that kept him hanging on. Like when she grabbed his hand while leading him through the winding streets of Zaun, her grip warm and certain as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Or the way she would laugh—soft and low—whenever he said something stupid to make her smile. The way she would lean against his shoulder after a long day, her body just close enough to make him feel the static in the air between them but not close enough to mean anything more.

Or the time he gave her his jacket—an old thing, patched in a dozen places, but warm—and she actually wore it. She could've said no, could've rolled her eyes and teased him like she usually did. But instead, she slipped it over her shoulders with a quiet "thanks," and the sight of her in it stayed etched in his mind for days after.

And then there were the nights. The rare ones where they sat on rooftops together, shoulders brushing as they talked about nothing in particular. Those were the hardest, the moments when he was sure he'd break—when he'd lean a little closer, hoping she wouldn't pull away. Hoping she might look at him and see him, the way he'd always seen her.

But then she'd laugh, soft and almost apologetic, like she'd caught him mid-thought. "You're staring again, Ekko," she'd say, her tone playful but distant, and his heart would sink just a little further.

Because for all the moments they shared, for all the ways she seemed to let him in, there was always that invisible line he wasn't sure he could ever cross.

And that was the worst part. Knowing she cared enough to keep him close, but not enough to take him the rest of the way. Knowing he was her almost, but never her enough.

So no, Ekko couldn't tell you he'd escaped the friend zone. Not yet.

But he could tell you this much: he wasn't giving up. Not now, not ever. Because when it came to Moon, "almost" was better than nothing at all. And maybe—just maybe—one day, "almost" would finally be enough to become everything.

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 prided herself on her ability to bounce back. Life in Zaun didn't leave much room for wallowing, and she wasn't about to start now—especially not over something as ridiculous as an almost-kiss.

But the truth was, Ekko's hesitation had left her feeling raw. It wasn't just that he'd pulled back—it was that he'd been the one to lean in first. He'd started it, and then suddenly, it was like he'd remembered something she didn't know.

What did that even mean?

The thought clawed at her when she least expected it, cropping up in the middle of work shifts or when she sat down to sketch. She'd catch herself replaying the moment, the way his face had been so close to hers, his breath warm and unsteady, before he'd stopped—abruptly, decisively.

The embarrassment stung almost as much as the rejection. It wasn't like she'd thrown herself at him. She'd been right there, just... waiting. And he'd left her hanging.

So, she decided it was time to get over it.

Properly, this time.

It wasn't easy. Ekko wasn't some fleeting crush she could just shake off. He was Ekko—her Ekko. The one who always seemed to know exactly what to say when she needed it, who could make her laugh even when the weight of Zaun pressed too hard on her shoulders. The one who had been there for her in ways no one else had.

But she couldn't keep holding onto him in that way. It wasn't fair to either of them, and it wasn't fair to her.

So, Moon made a plan.

Step one: Stop noticing every little thing about him. The way his voice dropped when he got serious, or how he smiled with just one corner of his mouth when he was about to say something clever. The way he'd tilt his head when he was listening intently, like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

Nope. None of that. She was done cataloging details about him like they were precious artifacts.

Step two: Keep her distance, but not in an obvious way. She didn't want him thinking she was mad or upset—because she wasn't. Not really. She was just... recalibrating.

Step three: Absolutely, under no circumstances, think about the almost-kiss.

Step four: Focus on other things. Her internship with Phoenix was a great distraction, and she poured herself into her work with an intensity that even Phoenix commented on.

"You've been turning out some of your best pieces lately," he'd said one afternoon, tapping his finger against one of her canvases. "Although, I can't help but notice..."

"Notice what?" Moon asked, careful to keep her tone casual.

Phoenix squinted at the painting in question, his sharp gaze dissecting every brushstroke. "There's a face in this one. Same as the last few. Almost hidden, but it's there if you know where to look."

Moon's stomach tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. "A face?"

"Don't play coy, kid. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He pointed to the faint outline of what could be a jawline, just barely visible amidst the chaos of swirling colors and textures. "Whoever they are, they're living rent-free in your head."

Moon scoffed, rolling her eyes for good measure. "It's not a face. It's just abstract. You're reading into it."

Phoenix raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "If you say so. You turn him into art because you can't have him any other way."

She brushed off the comment, but it stayed with her. She couldn't admit it—not to Phoenix, not to herself—but she knew exactly whose face kept appearing in her work.

Ekko.

It was infuriating. No matter how much she tried to push him out of her head, he kept creeping back in, sneaking into her subconscious and leaving his imprint on everything she touched.

But she was determined to stick to her plan. She'd done hard things before, and this was just another hurdle.

The next time she saw Ekko, she acted as if nothing had changed. She teased him about a busted gadget he was fixing, leaned over his shoulder to make a sarcastic comment, and laughed when he shot her a mock glare.

It was easy, almost too easy, to slip back into their usual rhythm. And for a moment, she almost forgot why she'd been so upset in the first place.

Almost.

Because then he smiled at her—really smiled, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the edges—and her chest tightened in a way that reminded her just how impossible this was going to be.

But she didn't let it show.

Instead, she smiled back, forced and fleeting, swallowing the heavy knot of uncertainty that sat in her throat like an unspoken truth, sharp and aching, yet too fragile to set free.

This was fine. She was fine.

She just needed more time.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒!

If you don't read my authors notes you'll always have questions later and as I learned form Headlock. Y'all don't read the authors notes. so you won't see this but I've changed something. Ekko and Powder have not started attending the academy yet.

Fun Fact: One of Moon's parents is still alive. Though I never said who her parents were/what happened to them.

Ekko is 16, Moon is 15.