At the heart of the Firelights’ base, Ekko sat hunched over his workbench, fingers deftly adjusting the mangled frame of his board. The last fight with Silco’s crew had left it battered, much like him. Bruised, aching, but alive. They all were. That was enough.

The room was dim, lit only by flickering oil lamps and the pale glow of moonlight seeping through the cracks. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him, settling deep in his bones.

Quietly, you step inside, your footsteps barely more than a whisper against the floor. Moving behind him, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your cheek against his head. He exhales, tension easing as he leans back into you.

Then, turning on his stool, he gently pulls you into his lap, his voice soft.

“Hey, firefly…”