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And I Try to Calm the Wolf | Not a Lot, Just Forever 𖦹 Chapter One

Post-Canon Timebomb | Ekko/Jinx

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Content tags: Alternate universe, Dimension hopping, Marriage, Mental health issues, Disordered eating, Mention of suicide attempt, Suicidal thoughts, Canon-typical violence, Ekko needs a hug, Jinx needs a hug, Soft Ekko, Older Ekko, Older Jinx, Jinx is going through it, Author is also going through it

Word count: 5126

Notes: helloo everyone! this is my first ever fic with more than two chapters and also my first ever non smut centred fic so this is super super different from my usual style but i had an idea and i really wanted to write it down!! the title of the fic and the chapters are from this song:3 . ݁₊⊹. ݁˖ . thank you so much to my lovely friend @rq1nzorr for reading through this and checking for errors for me it was a huge help♡♡♡!! . ݁₊⊹. ݁˖ . i just wanna say quickly that this fic will be explicit and that there will be smut eventually (i am a smut writer at my core LOL), im not entirely sure when, but i wanted that to be there to let u guys know early on:) ANYWAYY,, i hope you all enjoy:3!!

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She sits up with a start, gasping, cold sweat beading at her forehead. It was just a dream.

…It was just a dream?

She swears it was real. It felt so real. The sickly smell of smoke, the cold metal of his skin as she caressed his face, the screams of her sister, the pounding of her heart in her ears, adrenaline coursing through her body. Even the feeling of her stomach dropping as she fell down, down, down.

She scrapes her nails over her cheeks in an effort to ground herself. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. She shakes her head, desperately trying to shake away the memories playing like a movie highlights reel in her brain, bright neon scratching at the edges of her vision in the dark like an old, distorted tape. She breathes out heavily, a sharp sigh escaping her lips as she clutches the sheets between her fingers.

She needs to get her bearings again.

She slings her legs over the edge of the bed, throwing the blanket off of herself haphazardly— uncaring of where it lands— before pressing her palms into the mattress, shakily holding herself upright. Fucking get it together.

She had never in her life had a dream that felt so…So actual. So real and tangible. She reaches over to her nightstand, her fingers searching through the dark for the cord of her lamp. She misses, her body lurching forward a little as she leans her weight into it. Great. Her head is really trying to fuck with her tonight. She sighs and shifts closer, fumbling her hand over the cool, hard surface. There's nothing.

What?

She groans in frustration and thinks maybe she knocked it over in her sleep or…something like that. She rubs her eyes, wiping away any lingering sleep before standing up and walking over to the wall in a blind search for the light switch, stumbling aimlessly through the dark before she crashes headfirst into something flat and unyielding in front of her. She spins around, hitting her fist against the wall in exasperation.

"Fuck— This stupid fucking—" she growls to herself.

She curses to herself as she wanders back to bed, deciding she probably just needs to sleep off this stupid nightmare to get her grip on reality back again. Who crashes into the wall of their own bedroom anyway? Dumbass.

Is she even home? Is she at the Firelight base? How much of it exactly was just a dream?

She leans down as she presses her knees into the mattress, slowly sinking back into bed, sliding her hands over the strewn up blankets, ready to just lay stretched across the soft sheets like a little cat and angrily throw the blanket over her head. Until her hand hits something warm. Her eyes widen, jerking back from whatever— whoever— she touched.

She's going crazy. She's going crazy, surely.

She reaches forward and jabs at it. Warm. Definitely warm. Definitely skin.

Suddenly, all the noises in her her head go quiet and she notices the faint sound of someone breathing just inches away from her. How did she not hear that before? She hesitantly reaches under her pillow, her fingers itching for her weapon, something to protect herself, something to give her a little normalcy. No gun. No weapon at all.

Okay. That's fine. This is fine.

"...Jinx?" a soft, sleepy groan breaks through the sound of her rustling through the sheets.

Fuck.

She jumps back, landing on the wooden floor beneath her. Wooden floor. She's definitely not home, she realises. Maybe it was just the battle she dreamed about, maybe she just got in her head about it and convinced herself so badly that she would die that it manifested itself in her unconscious, maybe it's morning again and she gets to wake up with him again, gets to see him quiet and soft and vulnerable all over again.

A soft little click sounds out next to the bed and a dim amber light spills through the room. He props himself up on his elbows, staring at her, bleary and confused from sleep.

"Ekko?" she hisses, half shocked, but really, who else could it have been?

Her eyes dart around the small, newly lit up space. This definitely is not her bedroom. But this isn't his bedroom either, this isn't like any room she had seen before, not hers, and not the one she fell asleep in every night during her stay at the Firelight base. The walls, the floor, the ceiling? All wooden. All clean. And he looks different. She stares him down, taking in the spackle of stubble decorating his face, his concerned and sleepy expression, the…oh god, the complete lack of a t-shirt he wears, and the blue bonnet he has fitted to his head. There's no paint on his face either— his features clean, a little weighed down by tiredness. He looks…soft.

"What are you— What— Where are we?"

He wipes his eyes groggily and reaches into his nightstand drawer, frowning as he pulls out a pair of rectangular glasses and sits them on the bridge of his nose, staring at the way she stands there cold and alone with her arms wrapped around herself, hugging herself tightly— looking like a lost, frightened little child.

He stands up slowly, groaning to himself as his joints creak and protest before padding over to her and reaching out to hold her arms gently, "Nightmare?"

She shakes her head, bewildered, "No— No— I— I don't know— It wasn't— It was real— I swear—" She breaks down into quiet sobs, helplessly melting into his hold, letting his presence be somewhat of a port in the storm.

Maybe this is the dream? Maybe this is just another hallucination— something comforting, her brain seeking something both familiar and so out of reach at the same time to ease away the pain of having her life snuffed away.They say that your life flashes before your eyes as you die, but would it be all that far-fetched to think that perhaps you could get a sweet little glimpse of what could have been?

"It's okay," he mumbles, smoothing his hand over her hair— her hair that she realises now comes to just past her shoulders, it hadn't been that length since she was a child, "It's okay, baby,"

Baby? The word echoes in her head, she had never before let herself dream that she could have him in the way that meant he could call her such a soft and sweet name, such a stark difference to what she really is— Jinx, just a jinx.

His arms wrap tighter around her, pulling her close, choking her out, his presence oppressive through her panic and confusion. She had hallucinated things before, but very rarely had they been so nice, so eager to reach out and comfort her. She thinks back to when he appeared to her in what she thought would be her final moments. There was no way he was real. But he was. He really was. But, oh god, what if he truly wasn't? How much of all the past month had been just another nightmare? Had she made it all up? Did she secretly want someone to save her so badly that her death-dream had become impossibly intertwined with the fabric of her reality? Her ears ring as she clings to him, static screeching in her eardrums, distorting every consolation he murmurs to her into a horrible, abrasive monologue.

Something is missing.

She pulls away from him, turning and sitting on the floor, putting her head in her hands. Think. What happened in between now and blowing herself and Vander up in Piltover? Did that even happen? Ekko had saved her from herself, right? And she had tried to kill herself…right? Otherwise, why would her hair be shorter, with soft little spikes irritatingly brushing against her shoulders? How much of after actually happened? She should be dead. She should definitely be fucking dead no matter what really happened.

"...nx, Jinx?" His voice cuts through the clouds fogging over her head, his hand resting on her shoulder— a gentle attempt at snapping her out of it.

"You're not here— You're not here!" She turns and slaps his hand away, glaring at him angrily as if it were all his fault.

She watches the shock seep into his expression, his eyes widening and his lips coming apart, trying to figure out what the hell to do.

"I—" He hesitates for a second, gathering his composure, his hand still hovering over her, "…Him again?"

Him? Oh, right, of course, she's crazy, obviously he knows that by now. But how does he know about him specifically? She didn't tell him. She didn't ever tell him. Does everyone secretly know about her dead brother living in her head and taunting her every chance he gets? Stupid, crazy Jinx, haunted by her past mistakes in every turn of her waking moments.

She shifts uncomfortably— restlessly— the hard wood of the floor digging into every part of her it comes in contact with. She wants to laugh and cry all the same, none of it makes sense, it all feels so real— just as real as her 'nightmare'. And she can feel everything, the ache of lingering sleep in her body, the slight chill of the breeze blowing into the room, the tears tracking down her face. Maybe she's not supposed to make sense of it, maybe her brain finally cracked under the stress and pressure and now she's really, fully lost it.

"Nono no, no—" she mumbles, shoving her head into her hands.

She laughs under her breath as neon lights crackle over the back of her eyelids. Oh, it's not real, none of it is real.

She feels his footsteps retreat, the quiet thud of them reverberating through the floor. Of course he's leaving. Oh god, he had been so soft and tender with her and he's leaving. This has got to be a new record. Shortest time ever taken to drive someone who loves her away. She giggles to herself, a little delirious through her cracked, heaving sobs. She scratches her nails over her forehead, scraping red lines into her pale flesh, it does nothing to ground her but maybe she deserves it somehow, maybe—

"Here,"

Her head snaps up, feeling cool metal press against her bare knee, the cold making her flinch as it comes in contact with her near-feverish skin.

The buzzing in her ears retreats into quiet as she looks up at him with his hand outreached, holding a cup out to her, "You…You're still here?"

He furrows his eyebrows, staring at her, his lips pursing into a soft, almost disbelieving frown, "Of course I am," He says it like it's obvious— a fact, "Always,"

Oh. She takes a shaky breath in, grabbing onto the cup with trembling fingers as he passes it to her. It almost feels like a veil has been lifted, the bright colours dancing at the corners of her vision falling back into the abyss of her mind as she sheepishly glances up at him— his face a perfect picture of patience as he carefully studies her expression. She brings it to her lips, letting the cool liquid pass her lips in hurried, shallow little gulps, gasping between each swallow, letting it wash through her and shock her back into reality.

He reaches out and cups her cheek in his hand, and she flinches slightly, shying away from his touch. This isn't right. Just because they had…Whatever, no matter what they had done just that one time, it doesn't mean he can act like they're together. He should know that. He should know that. They were going to talk about it after…Well, after. Whatever reality this is isn't hers, whether she realises it or not.

She sets the cup down next to her with a little too much force, feeling the water spill out over her fingers as it splashes over the rim, "Always," she scoffs, repeating him in mocking disbelief, "I know you'll leave when it gets too much. When I hurt you. When I jinx you,"

She says it to hurt him. She should be dead. She should be dead. She wanted to be dead. Maybe he should be too. If she doesn't do anything to really hurt him and drive him away just like everyone else, then at the very least she should distance herself so that when her inevitable end comes he won't be left so wrecked. She can't let him love her. Not like this. Not when she's so close to death she can taste it on her tongue.

"My love…" he murmurs, letting his hand hover near her cheek, not daring to touch her again.

"N-no—" she chokes out a sob, tipping her head forward into her palms.

It's too much. It's all far too much and she doesn't know what to think anymore. Just. Maybe just curl into a ball and pretend. Just pretend. It'll be okay. It'll be okay. She buries her head into her folded arms, feeling tears streak down her skin, etching red into her tender flesh, her pain starkly showing in welts against the white of her face.

She shivers as a breeze sweeps through the room— the cold, damp air of the summer wrapping around her hot, sweaty skin, making all her hairs on her body rise, goosebumps spreading over her skin and making her tremble as she curls into herself.

Ekko hovers over her, a little unsure— it's really not helping. What is he even doing here? Where even are they? This doesn't look even the slightest bit like her hideout and neither does it look like Ekko's little Firelight apartment. She's surely gone mad, trapped in a warped little nightmare that feels just a bit too real.

She runs her fingers through her hair, obsessively combing through the knots that had formed in her sleep, trying not to think too hard about the length of it. If it's not real, if it really is just a dream, maybe she should just let it be, maybe she should just pretend that it's all okay.

Ekko doesn't touch her again, and he doesn't mind that she refuses his touch, because of course something so small isn't going to waver his determination to comfort her. He won't leave. But he won't touch her. So he sits next to her on the hard, wooden floor, letting out a sleepy little grumble as he settles beside her. He won't complain, even though he's tired, he won't complain. He wraps his arms around his knees, determined to be here for her until it passes— it's ritual by now, and he's okay with that.

A few minutes pass in strained silence, Ekko sitting next to her and just letting her be, letting her ride it out and letting his presence be a silent affirmation that he's not going anywhere, that he's here, right here if she wants him, if she wants anything.

"I died," she whispers, breaking the silence, watching him jump a little at her abrupt interruption of the fragile quiet blanketing them.

"It's okay," he whispers back, "it was just a d—"

"It wasn't just a dream, I—" She pauses, frowning, trying to piece together what she remembers, trying to piece together what makes sense.

She parts her lips before stopping again. It just really doesn't make sense. There's nothing she can do to make herself understand it, it just doesn't work.

"Okay," he says, shifting a little closer to her.

She turns to look at him, worry plastering her face as she looks over his calm, controlled expression, his eyes shining in the dim light of the room, reflecting a little of the soft pink of her own right back at her. At least that hasn't changed.

In the little time they had spent together before she died she had learnt to let herself lean on him, not a lot, but just enough. Maybe…Maybe she can trust him with this odd disturbance of her reality. But— No. That's crazy, right? If he didn't think she was mad already he surely would now.

'Oh hey, Ekko, I just died and then woke up in bed with you and I have no idea where I am right now!' She laughs under her breath at the ridiculous statement that almost mockingly reverberates around her brain. She really can't seem to draw any reasonable conclusions as to what is going on and it makes her dizzy, so fucking dizzy that it chokes her out and strangles her as she tries to get back her shaky grasp of what's real and what isn't. She's learnt— at least to a certain extent— by now to differentiate between hallucination and reality, but this has really thrown her through a loop. She needs the control, she needs it back. She had decided that she was going to die and then she just…didn't, finding herself flung straight into this dream, this…other reality instead.

"I-it wasn't— I swear—" Her voice cracks as she speaks, "You— You believe me, right?"

He sighs, running his hand over his head nervously, "I— Uh—"

Her mouth quirks up into a grim smile before she buries her face back into her arms, "That's what I thought," she mumbles.

He fiddles with his thumbs, soothing over the skin, furrowing his brows as he wracks his brain for ideas. He reaches over to her and puts his hand on her shoulder gently.

"Will you…Will you let me understand? Tell me what's going on?" He keeps his voice soft— low and gentle.

She glances between his hand on her shoulder and back up to his face before she decides fuck it, and opens her mouth to speak. If it's not real then she may as well try to make some semblance of sense out of it, right? Truly, what's the worst that fake Ekko can say to her anyway? Tell her she's crazy? Big deal. She's had far worse than that whispered into her ear on the daily from her mind's apparition of her dead brother for years by now.

"I…died…and I woke up here," She frowns, "I don't know where here is or— Or why you look different, or— You— You called me 'baby', you only did that when—" She shakes her head suddenly, no, this isn't how they were supposed to discuss it, not yet.

"Jinx, uh—" He purses his lips, his mouth turning down a little, trying to figure out how best to calm her down without making her feel like she's crazy for feeling the way she does, "Why don't we figure this out in the morning? I think—"

He's sure that it was just a nightmare and she's just reeling from the effect of it still, maybe she's still not fully conscious— he doesn't know, really, but whatever it is, sleeplessness sure can't help it. He takes her hand in his— his warm, steady hand against her chilled, clammy fingers— and he squeezes it gently, soothing his thumb over her knuckles. Her lips pull into a sullen, empty smile as she looks back at him, studying his face with such a quiet intensity that he almost wants to cower under her gaze, not entirely sure what to make of her like this.

"We can make sense of this in the morning, okay?" he says softly, firmly.

She chuckles under her breath, a soft huff escaping her lips, "I knew you'd think I was crazy," she says, pulling her hand away from him and huddling into herself, drawing her knees up to her chest and ducking her head down into them.

"No, Jinx, I—" He sighs, trying not to get irritated with her— he doesn't want to be, his patience wearing thin despite how much he wants to just be there for her, "I don't think you're crazy, okay? Just—" He grumbles to himself, tripping over his words in his haste to make it right, "Just— We're both tired, and you didn't sleep well last night either. Let's just get back to bed, I think a little more sleep will do you some good,"

He rubs his hand down her back, drawing little circles with his thumb into her bare skin in an effort to comfort her.

He laughs quietly, shaking his head, "Can't believe you still think I find you crazy after all this time. Even if I did, maybe I like crazy, you ever thought of that?" He nudges her gently, trying to break the tension between them, "You would doubt that after we've been married for—"

"Married?" She whips her head up in shock, her hands freezing their efforts of scratching her skin to shreds at the mental fucking whiplash he just dealt her.

"Yes?" He stares at her, his face an absolute picture of confusion.

Weird, sleepy, post-nightmare Jinx doesn't remember their wedding. Fucking ouch.

"Okay, stay here, I'm going to get you something to eat, okay?" He tries not to let the hurt nip into his voice as he speaks to her, surely she's just half asleep and a little delirious, right?

"Okay…" she mumbles, stroking her hand over the back of her head, an anxious fidget that she really can't help.

She hears Ekko's quiet footsteps as he pads barefooted into the other room, and she stares ahead, propping her head up on her knees. She still really doesn't understand but she's so far into her panic and confusion that her brain has gone blank and her body feels numb and heavy, maybe trying to protect her from whatever it is that she can't physically fight against right now. Whatever the case, she welcomes the brief relief of it.

Ekko pulls the window open above the sink and stares blankly into the night sky, trying to grapple with his thoughts, trying to wrap his head around what she had told him. There's no way it can be true, right? But…it is a little odd, even for Jinx. He knows full well the demons she struggles with, the monsters that etch themselves into her vision, how they affect her reality. It had taken so long for him to coax the full truth out of her, so much gentle reassurance and quiet affirmation that he doesn't think she's crazy, that he's not going to leave her, ever.

He turns the knob of the tap and lets the lukewarm water run over his hands— the temperature evidence of the sticky heat of the summer night. He lets it ground him, slowly breathing in the thick night air as he tries to figure out what to do. His hands shake as he lets the water wash over them. Something doesn't feel right. It feels…familiar in a way. But he doesn't want to think about that just yet. Not until later. Not until they get some sleep at least. He scoops the water up in his hands and splashes it over his face— it's not quite cold enough to give him the shock back into reality that he's chasing but the cool night air seeping in from the window blows gently on his skin and leaves a chill across his cheeks that he very much welcomes anyway.

He sighs and wipes himself down. Pull yourself together. He tells himself that right now Jinx needs him, there's no time for him to work himself up. It's not important while he's looking after her. Saviour complex back in action.

He pulls the cupboard open and picks out a sleeve of plain cream crackers, something easy to digest, something he knows she'll eat. He places a few of them on a plate and grabs a block of cheddar from the fridge, cutting a few slices and putting them on the side, giving her the option to put them together if she wants. Sometimes she feels sick when she's going through it, her panic wreaking havoc on her nervous system and making her ill, but other times it makes her hungry, makes her want to eat for comfort. He can't count the amount of times he's caught her sat on the floor in tears with open packets of biscuits scattered around her or eating piece after piece of plain bread straight from the packet. He shakes his head, thinking about how he'd pull her up and sit her at the table— or bring her to bed if it was particularly bad— and cook her something good to eat, something comforting that will fill her up without triggering her to binge so badly. If she feels sick this time around, he's hoping that eating something plain will help at least a little.

He lets out a shaky exhale, straightening himself back up and putting on the demeanour he knows she'll need right now. He will be there for her. No matter what. No matter how frustrated or confused or exhausted he is. He promised it to himself years ago, back when he watched her kill herself over and over in real time, back when he brought her away from that ledge. He cared for her then, he's cared for her ever since, and he'll care for her now.

He wanders back into the bedroom and finds her small and balled up on the floor, still shivering and gasping to herself. Fuck, he feels his heart clench in his chest at the sight. It's been a good while since it's been this bad.

"Jinx?"

She snaps her head up to look at him— leaving a glowing trail of pink following her eyes with the speed of it— her brows raised in shock, as if she didn't expect him to actually come back with food for her. It's like before. When she doubted everything, when she doubted his every intention, like she never healed from it.

Her issues will be recurring sometimes, sometimes it seems like she doubles back on all her progress and her old anxieties begin to eat away at her all over again. He hates it. He hates seeing her so broken down and vulnerable like this, but he's glad at the same time that he gets to be the one to help her through it, that after everything she trusts him to be there for her.

He gives her a small, comforting smile and settles down next to her, putting the plate down beside her, watching as she eyes it wearily.

"You…got me food,"

He hesitantly reaches out and strokes his hand over her tangled hair, "I said I would," he says softly.

She stares at him like he had just said the strangest thing in the world before picking the plate up with shaky fingers and slowly adding a piece of cheese atop a cracker.

"I— Thank you…" she mumbles, hiding her face behind her bangs.

"You know…I'm here, right?"

"Why, Ekko?"

"I—" He knits his eyebrows together, avoiding her intense stare, "I love you, Jinx,"

She purses her lips as he takes in the obvious disbelief on her face. It hurts a little that she doesn't say it back but he shoves it to the back of his head, now isn't the time to dwell. He needs to coax her back into bed. Back into their bed. She doesn't seem to remember anything about their current relationship, like her memory has been wiped. Would she even want to share a bed with him without the knowledge of…everything they have together?

"Come to bed?" he asks simply, deciding to risk it.

"You wanna share a bed? Thought you said I kicked too much," she laughs under her breath.

When they were kids. He said that when they were kids. He bites his lip, wanting to ask her exactly how much she remembers. Because he has a sneaking suspicion of what might actually be going on, but he's not one-hundred percent sure. Now's not the time. Tomorrow. He'll ask her tomorrow. If she's still like this anyway.

"I can sleep on the couch— If you want,"

"I—" She combs her fingers through her hair, quickly fixing it out of her face, "No, I—" She scowls— mostly to herself— trying to figure out how best to say what she needs, "Stay? Please?"

He can't stop the small smile that lifts up on his face when she looks up at him with big, pleading eyes, all her frustration and anger melting away for a moment, giving way to sweet vulnerability. He runs his hand down her back— a small reassurance— before turning to her and brushing away a stray hair sticking to her face.

"C'mon," he says, holding out his hand.

She cautiously takes his hand in hers and lets him stand her up, lets him steady her. It's a lot. All of it is a whole lot. She's still not used to letting someone in like this but she wants to try. They had…time before everything. A month together to be exact. But they had never gotten the opportunity to be quite this close.

Married. That word swirls around in her head, making her dizzy, making her feel like she could just throw up. Married. Surely she would remember her own wedding, right?

It feels like…Feels like she's woken up in a completely different universe. She's different, he's different. He's…older, she thinks. Is this just her new life now? She's still reeling from the fact that she's not dead as he leads her over to their bed. Did the explosion wipe her memory up until this point? Is that even a possibility? Theories and doubts swirl around in her head as she slowly climbs onto the mattress, her body still shaking. Maybe Ekko was right, maybe she really does just need some sleep. It'll be easier to figure out in the morning. She feels a little delusional thinking that, but she has to have something to cling to when she feels like she knows absolutely nothing.

She rests her head on the pillow, curling into herself, facing away from him, and she feels him place a gentle kiss to the top of her hair and pull the blanket over her.

"Goodnight," he whispers before turning over and clicking the little lamp off on his bedside table.

She breathes out a shaky sigh as the darkness envelops her, trying her very best to ignore the flashes of neon snaking into her field of view— made all the more apparent by the darkness— as she slowly lets sleep overtake her.

Tomorrow. She— They can figure it out tomorrow.