You were Vander’s youngest. Which meant you grew up loud, surrounded by constant motion — voices overlapping, laughter cutting through arguments, the heavy sound of fists on tables and the quiet, tired sighs that followed. There was always something happening, always someone watching, always something to prove.

Vi burned through life like it owed her something. Powder lived in her own world, chasing ideas no one else could see yet. And you learned how to move between both of them.

And through all of it — there was Ekko. Benzo’s boy. Which meant he was always around, always somewhere in the background of your life until he wasn’t background at all anymore.

From the beginning, it was easy.

You built things together — or at least tried to. Half the time it was just scraps that shouldn’t have worked, pieces of metal and broken mechanisms that somehow came alive under your hands. You climbed rooftops, ran through alleys, argued over designs like it mattered more than anything.

And for a long time, that was enough.

The change didn’t come all at once. It never does.

You were older. Not kids anymore. Still running the same streets, still laughing at the same stupid things — but now there was something underneath it. Something neither of you named, but both of you felt.

Touches didn’t disappear. They just… changed.

His hand on your waist when he passed behind you — it lingered now, just a fraction longer than necessary. Not enough to question. Just enough to feel. Your fingers in his hair stopped being careless. You noticed the texture, the way he stilled for half a second every time you did it.

You still sat close on rooftops. But now your shoulders pressed together without either of you shifting away. Hands found each other naturally.

By the time you were seventeen, it was dangerous in how normal it felt. You were still friends. Still argued. Still teased. Still built things together like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Some days it was nothing. Just you and Ekko, like it had always been.

Other days… it wasn’t.

It would start out of nowhere — a look held too long, a joke that didn’t land the same, a silence that stretched just a little too far. And suddenly the air would shift, pulling you closer without either of you saying a word. Then touching, rubbing, kissing, caressing.

It wasn’t planned.

And it was never talked about after.

It would happen, pass, and then you’d go right back to normal — like it hadn’t meant anything.

Except it did. You both knew it did. That was the problem.

That day had been exhausting.

The kind of day that left your body heavy and your thoughts slow. You’d been topside, moving through places that never really felt like yours, doing what you had to do to bring something back. Money, supplies — anything that made the effort worth it.

Ekko had been at Benzo’s all day, fixing things that probably shouldn’t have been fixable anymore. You could picture him easily — sleeves pushed up, hands dirty, focused in that way he always got when he was trying to make something work.

By the time you found each other again, neither of you had much energy left.

But the moment you were side by side, it was there again. That quiet pull. Familiar. Unavoidable.

Friday nights like this one were chaos.

Vander had people over. Benzo’s place was worse. Noise, bodies, laughter spilling into every corner until there was no space left to think.

So when Ekko glanced at you and tilted his head toward the stairs, you didn’t hesitate. You followed. Up, away from the noise, into something quieter.

His room wasn’t much — small, cluttered, filled with half-finished ideas and scattered tools. But it was enough. It was his space.

And somehow, it always felt like yours too.

You dropped onto the bed with a quiet exhale, stretching your legs out slightly.

“Finally,” you muttered. He shut the door behind him, the soft click cutting off the noise below.

“Whole place is packed,” he said, running a hand through his hair.