𝐇𝐞𝐲! 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 -- 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐬
               𝟎𝟏𝟐: In Your Arms
  (𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙚, Stay Ready)

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 been an enigma of contrasts, the kind that made you wonder if two different souls resided in one body. For someone who loathed physical touch, she could be downright clingy. But it was on her terms, always her terms. If you dared to reach for her, she'd recoil like a shadow retreating from the sun. Yet, when she chose to touch you, it was magnetic—like gravity itself had shifted, and suddenly, you were orbiting her.

Ekko had learned this the hard way. In the early days, any accidental brush of his hand against hers would send her stiffening, her body coiling as if waiting for a strike that would never come. But over time—long, slow, careful time—she'd begun to unfurl, like a flower too stubborn to bloom in the sunlight, finally deciding it was safe to reach for warmth.

Now, Moon had a habit of draping herself over him with all the abandon of a cat claiming its favorite perch. He'd grown used to it, to the point where catching her mid-leap had become second nature. It didn't matter if he was knee-deep in rewiring a circuit or explaining schematics to Benzo—when Moon came barreling toward him, Ekko's arms would move of their own accord, steady and waiting. And when she clung to him, limbs wrapped tight, it was never a burden. If anything, it made him feel like he was the one being held together.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐏 was a symphony of chaos, the kind that Zaun thrived on. Machinery hummed in the background, tools clattered in steady rhythm, and the faint scent of grease and metal clung to the air like a second skin. Ekko stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, explaining the intricacies of an energy distribution system to Benzo.

"The old conduits weren't cut out for the load," he said, tapping a schematic with the back of a wrench. "But if we reroute here—" his finger skimmed over a cluster of lines "—we can stabilize the output. No more overloads, no more blowouts. Smooth as butter."

Benzo leaned over the diagram, squinting like the answer might leap off the paper. "Looks good on paper. But you know paper doesn't explode."

Ekko smirked. "That's why I reinforced the secondary flow. It's fail-safe now—trust me."

Before Benzo could respond, the shop door slammed open with a force that rattled the tools hanging on the walls.

"She's gonna—" Benzo started, but his words were cut off by a blur of motion.

Moon.

She launched herself at Ekko with all the grace of a comet crashing into orbit. Ekko caught her without so much as a glance, his arms wrapping around her instinctively as he continued his explanation.

"And it'll sustain the output," he said, adjusting her weight like she was nothing more than an oversized jacket.

Benzo shook his head, his chuckle low and gravelly. "You two rehearsing for the circus?"

Ekko shrugged, finally glancing down at the girl latched onto him. "She's light," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Moon twisted in his arms, her grin so wide it looked like it might split her face in two. "Guess what?"

Ekko raised an eyebrow, his tone light with amusement. "What?"

"I got in!" she exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. "The Piltover gallery picked my piece for their showcase!"

Ekko blinked, his brain catching up to her words. "Wait—the gallery? The one with all the posh snobs who sip wine and argue about what shade of blue is the most existential?"

"Yes!" she said, her voice so triumphant it was practically a song.

Ekko grinned, pride swelling in his chest. "Damn, Moon. That's huge. They're lucky to have your work."

"They said it was innovative," she said, practically glowing. "I knew they'd love it, but hearing it? It's like... validation."

Benzo, who'd been quietly observing the exchange, let out a low whistle. "So, what's the piece?"

Moon turned to him, still beaming. "The one I told you about—the dreamscape of Zaun. Gears, smog, the skyline... It's industrial, but abstract enough to make the Pilties think it's deep."

Benzo snorted, though his eyes softened. "Good for you, kid. Just don't let them steal the credit for it."

"I won't," she said firmly, turning back to Ekko. "Oh, and they want me at the gallery opening next week! They're sending someone to escort me—a mentor or something."

Ekko's smile faltered for a heartbeat, his protective instincts kicking in. "Piltover? You'll be alright up there?"

Moon waved him off. "I'll be fine! This is my chance to show them what Zaun can do. What I can do."

Ekko studied her, pride and worry warring in his eyes. "Alright. But if anything feels off, you call me. Promise?"

"Promise," she said with an easy grin, and for a moment, her confidence was so infectious that Ekko almost believed everything would go perfectly.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐙 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑, 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 away from Zaun's grime. Polished floors gleamed beneath chandeliers that dripped crystal, and finely dressed scholars wandered the space like living statues, their movements slow and deliberate. Moon, in her borrowed dress and scuffed boots, stuck out like a shard of raw ore amidst polished diamonds.

Her piece—a stunning blend of gears and painted smoke that twisted into Zaun's jagged skyline—drew a steady crowd. Moon hovered nearby, heart pounding as strangers whispered words she couldn't hear but desperately wanted to.

"Miss Moon, I presume?"

The voice made her turn. A tall man in an immaculate suit stood behind her, his sharp eyes framed by thin glasses.

"I'm Professor Halrin," he said, extending a hand. "Your piece is extraordinary. Phoenix speaks highly of you and your art. We'd like to offer you a scholarship to study at the academy."

Moon's heart stopped. "A... scholarship?"

Halrin smiled. "Your talent is undeniable. With the right guidance, you could achieve greatness. Whenever you're ready."

Her mind raced. Study in Piltover? Resources beyond her wildest dreams? Her art recognized on a grand stage? She had to tell Ekko.

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 the shop like a lightning bolt, her words tumbling out before the door had even shut.

"Ekko! They offered me a scholarship!"

Ekko blinked, looking up from his work. "Wait—what?"

"They want me to study in Piltover. Full scholarship. Everything covered." Her excitement was electric, sparking through the air like a live wire.

Ekko grinned, pride swelling in his chest as he pulled her into a tight hug. "That's insane. Moon, this is huge."

But when she pulled back, her smile wavered. "It means I'd have to leave."

For a moment, Ekko's grin faltered, the weight of her words sinking in. But then he straightened, his voice steady. "You have to go. This is everything you've worked for."

"You think I can do it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Ekko smiled, his gaze unwavering. "I know."

And for a while, Moon believed it too.

But there was an undeniable truth that hung over the room like a weight no one dared to acknowledge: Moon was much too young to accept the scholarship. Too young, too fragile, and far too... Moon.

She wasn't the kind of person you'd picture standing tall in a polished Piltover gallery, let alone thriving there. She wasn't outgoing or loud, not the type to charm her way through conversations with scholars in tailored suits. No, Moon was an enigma—a frail girl who carried the sharp edges of her trauma like armor and a mind that spun dreams no one else could quite grasp.

Her frame, so thin it bordered on ghostly, betrayed a life lived in quiet battles. The anorexia, the constant tremor of anxiety in her chest, the panic disorder that left her gasping for air when the world pressed too close—all of it wrapped around her like chains. Her inability to open up to others only added to the mystique, turning her into a puzzle people couldn't help but try to solve. But Moon wasn't a puzzle. She was a girl desperately trying to make sense of her own fractured world.

Piltover, with its glinting towers and unyielding expectations, seemed like the worst possible place for someone like her. It wasn't kind to those who faltered, those who stumbled under the weight of their own minds. And though the judges called her work "innovative" and "genius," Moon knew they didn't see her. They saw her art. They saw potential. They didn't see the girl who flinched at loud noises, who sometimes went days without eating, who carried the kind of wounds that didn't leave scars you could see.

Ekko saw her, though. He always had. And that was why, despite the pride in his chest, his heart ached when she told him about the scholarship. Because he knew what it meant. He knew the glittering world of Piltover would demand parts of her she wasn't ready to give. And as much as he believed in her talent, he also knew she wasn't like everyone else.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, his voice steady but gentle.

Moon's eyes darted away, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "I... I think so. It's a chance, right? A real chance."

Ekko studied her, his chest tightening. She looked so small, like she might crumble under the weight of her own words. But beneath the frailty, he saw the faintest flicker of determination.

"It is," he said softly. "But you don't have to prove anything to them, you know? You're already enough."

Her throat tightened at his words, and for a moment, she couldn't bring herself to speak. Because deep down, she didn't believe him. Not yet.

But maybe this was her chance to try.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒!

Fake IDGAFer, you run into his arms any chance you get.

The scholarship will never be brought up again so I'll address it now. Moon never attends the academy. And neither does Powder from what i remember in the art book it's just Ekko and I'll be keeping it that way.

Moon just turned 16, Ekko is 17 and they will remain this age until chapter 15

Thank you 4K reads! Vote and comment I love to hear from you