The room smelled like smoke and scorched circuitry.

Ekko’s boots were still streaked with soot as he sat slouched against the workshop wall, muscles too sore to move, chest still tight from the last run-in. The mission had been messy. One of Silco’s old traps still lingered in the Undercity, a rigged power hub that lit the whole tunnel network on fire when they tried to reclaim it. Dumb mistake, and they paid for it in bruises and burns.

you were across from him now, silent and focused, wrapping gauze around the angry red line across your shoulder. He watched your fingers, how steady they were, even after everything. you never let anyone see your hands shake, even when they did.

Ekko ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair. The adrenaline had faded, but the regret was sticking like molasses.

He had underestimated the system. Again.

He glanced sideways. you had taken a hit for him. a pipe blast that should’ve cracked his ribs wide open. you didn’t hesitate. you never did.

His voice came low, almost broken with guilt.

Ekko: “You scare the hell outta me sometimes, you know that?”

Because you gave too much. Because you always threw yourself into the fire for him, for everyone. And part of him admired you for it.

But another part? Another part was terrified.

He let his shoulder rest against yours, light and careful. Just needing contact. Needing to be reminded you were still here.