-  TW - sexual content

Ékko stands in the courtroom, his muscles tense, his eyes fixed on the figure that slowly advances. Jinder. His bright blue hair dances slightly with each step, and the light filtering through the large windows illuminates it with an almost unreal brilliance.

He blinks, his breath catching in his throat. This blue... He no longer sees this Jinder. Instead, memories resurface, violent and uncontrollable, projecting him into the past.

It was for this blue that he had chosen the owl mask. The only bird capable of seeing this color. The owl was his symbol, his obsession. A way of convincing himself that he could always see her, that he could always understand her, even when she became elusive.

But now, as he stares at Jinder, a strange panic overwhelms him. She moves differently. Her gestures are controlled, calculated, where Jinx was always unpredictable, almost chaotic. But this difference, instead of reassuring him, disturbs him more.

Jarvan IV's words barely resonate in his mind. All he sees, all he feels, is the weight of this blue. And with it, a memory. A night. A pain. A mask abandoned in the mud.

- Flashback -

The mask slips between his fingers in his mind, the details momentarily erasing the present. He remembers the rough texture of the white paint, the edges he had filed down to prevent them from hurting him.

He had never worn this mask to hide from his enemies. It was for her. To keep a part of her close to him, in a world where he knew he had to fight her. He had chosen it because the owl saw blue and only blue, a way for him to stay focused on his goal. But this obsession had consumed him.

That night, he had seen her blue hair in the distance. He had followed her, unable to help himself, as always.

Her blue hair, almost phosphorescent in the darkness, betrays her identity: Jinx. He follows her at a distance, silent, his heart beating faster with each step.

Jinx stops abruptly in a dark alley where a few Silco men wait, their faces hidden under the flickering shadows of the neon lights. Ékko watches them from a high hiding place, hidden in the darkness, holding his breath.

He can't hear their conversation at first, but he senses the tension. Then, without warning, Jinx raises his gun and shoots a man cleanly. The noise tears through the silence, echoing through the alley like a warning bell.

The other men back away, shocked, muttering to each other, but it's Sevika who intervenes furiously.

— "Damn, Jinx! We were supposed to keep him alive! Is there something wrong with your fucking head or what?" " Sevika yells, her voice hoarse and echoed.

"He wasn't going to talk anyway," Jinx shrugs, her voice a mix of nonchalant defiance and defiant nonchalance.

"That's not up to you! You think Silco's going to let you get away with this?!"

Sevika grabs her roughly by the arm, her face contorted with anger. Ékko grits his teeth in the shadows, his fist clenching. He wants to intervene, but he knows it would be suicidal.

The exchange continues to escalate, insults flying from both sides, until a cold, controlled voice cuts the argument short:

"That's enough."

Ékko holds back a shiver. Silco.

The man steps forward slowly, the elegance of his gestures contrasting with the threatening aura he exudes. The men immediately back away, avoiding his gaze, and even Sevika, usually so reckless, releases Jinx's arm with a grimace and steps aside.

Jinx remains motionless, frozen like a child caught in the act. She says nothing, but her entire body betrays nervous tension. Silco stops right in front of her, his gaze lowered, studying her in silence for a moment that seems to stretch on forever.

—"Jinx..." he finally murmurs, in an almost paternal tone, but loaded with an implicit reproach.

—"I... I meant well..." she begins, her voice broken, like that of a child begging not to be punished.

She immediately lowers her head, her arrogance disappearing like a blown flame. Sevika leaves, followed by the others, leaving only Jinx and Silco in the alley.

Ékko grits his teeth. Is that it, Jinx? Is that what you've become? A kid waiting to be congratulated after something stupid?

Silco doesn't answer immediately. He just watches her, his piercing eyes analyzing every tremor in her body, every word she doesn't dare to say.

"Did you mean well?" he finally repeats, tilting his head slightly.

Jinx nods frantically.

"Yes... I thought... that it was better this way. He was never going to talk. He..."

Silco raises a hand to silence her. Not abruptly, but with a quiet authority that immediately makes her curl up. She lowers her eyes, her arms falling limply to her sides.

"You think too much, Jinx. It's not your place to think." »

He reaches out, his thin but firm fingers gently grabbing her chin to lift her head. She doesn't resist. On the contrary, she lets him do it, almost seeking his touch. Her eyes, filled with tears, meet Silco's, which seem to devour her with an icy intensity.

— "Your role is to follow my orders. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Jinx swallows, barely nodding.

— "Yes... Yes, Silco... I'll do better next time. I promise."

Ékko watches, his throat tight. It's unbearable. Seeing this girl, this tornado of energy and chaos that he had known, bend like a rag doll in front of this man... It's sickening.

And then, it happens.

Jinx falls to her knees, her hands gripping the bottom of Silco's pants.

— "Please... Don't leave me. Stay with me." I'll do anything you want, but... but don't go."

Ekko wants to look away, but he can't. It's like an accident you can't help but witness. He sees the way Silco places a hand on his head, almost gently, stroking his hair with a possessive gesture.

"Stand up, Jinx," he orders calmly, but with implacable authority.

She obeys immediately, trembling, her face lowered.

Silco leans down slightly, whispering something that Ekko can't hear. But whatever it is, it's enough. Jinx raises her head, her face red and her eyes shining, and walks away quickly, disappearing into the darkness.

Ekko remains paralyzed. Part of him is furious, wanting to scream, to smash something. But another part... Another part is just terrified.

Why? Why do you obey him like that, while with me, you never listen to anything? Why can he break you just with words, when I have to yell at you for you to hear me?!

Ekko, still in shock from what he just saw, makes an impulsive decision. He writes a message on a piece of paper found in his things:

"Meet me at the bridge, if you still remember who you are." the bridge on the way to The Last Drop, where they spent a lot of time as children.

He drops the paper from one of the roofs while he continues to follow her a little longer with his skateboard.

He ends up waiting under the bridge, the sound of the water and the distant crash of Zaun as his only company. The humidity permeates the air, and his thoughts swirl. He thinks back to how Silco broke her, to her lost gaze, to how she would do anything for a man who used her as a weapon.

Hours pass, and he begins to believe she won't come. But finally, a figure appears at the end of the bridge.

Ékko waits under a dilapidated bridge, arms crossed, water streaming down his sodden coat. The rain falls in torrents, transforming it into a gray wall that blurs his senses. He's not even sure she'll come. But he stays, unable to move away, unable to give up.

The sound of footsteps reaches him before he sees her. She finally appears at the other end of the bridge, her blue hair sticking to her face. Her clothes are soaked, and her hunched shoulders betray a fatigue she refuses to admit.

She says nothing at first, approaching in silence, her gaze shifting. Then she breaks the silence with an acid tone:

— "You could have waited for me somewhere where it doesn't rain, you moron."

A bitter smile brushes Ékko's lips.

— "I didn't choose the rain."

She rolls her eyes, exasperated, and shakes her head as if he, and not the whole world, were to blame. When he holds out his coat to cover her shoulders, she pushes him away sharply.

— "I don't need your pity, Ékko. Save that for your Fireflies."

He doesn't answer, but his gaze speaks for him: a mixture of frustration and pain, anger and attachment that he can't suppress.

Jinx finally sits down next to him, her knees drawn up to her chest, shaking. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The silence between them is heavy, saturated with grudges and memories.

— "Why are you here?" she finally asks, her voice barely audible.

— "Because I knew you'd come."

— "You're so sure of yourself, huh?" Her voice trembles, but she laughs, a laugh without joy.

Ekko turns his head toward her, scrutinizing her tired features.

— "No. I wasn't sure. But I hoped."

She remains silent for a moment, before whispering:

— "Silco says that hope is for the weak."

The words hit him in the gut, but he doesn't let it show.

— "And you, do you think that?"

She doesn't answer right away, avoiding his gaze. Then she sighs, exasperated with herself.

— "I don't know what I think anymore..."

He reaches out a hesitant hand toward her, but she instinctively pulls back.

— "Jinx..."

She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with sobs that she refuses to let burst. Ékko looks at her, torn between the desire to shake her so that she opens her eyes and the desire to simply hold her, to protect her from a world that only breaks her.

He approaches slowly, reaching out a hand to her face. This time, she doesn't pull away. When he brushes her cheek, she looks up at him, her gaze filled with a mixture of conflicting emotions: anger, pain, desire.

He is the one who initiates the contact. His trembling hand rests on her face, and their lips meet in a desperate kiss. It is not gentle, nor tender. It is a clash of their souls, a silent scream in the pouring rain.

Then their movements become more frantic, more disordered. They cling to each other as if it were their last breath. Mud and water seep into their clothes, but they don't care. It's rough, almost clumsy, but it's all they know they are together: a storm within a storm.

Their movements become more frantic, more disordered. They cling to each other as if it were their last breath. Mud and water seep into their clothes, but they don't care. It's rough, almost clumsy, but it's all they know they are together: a storm within a storm.

Ekko kisses her with an almost desperate intensity, his hands sliding over her soaked back, trying to pull her closer, as if their bodies could unite more than they already are.

"Why are you doing this, Jinx?" " he whispers against her lips, his voice hoarse, full of a frustration he can no longer contain.

She stares at him, her electric blue gaze lit up by a mixture of rage and vulnerability.

"Why are you still here?" she retorts, her fingers gripping the back of his neck as if she's afraid he'll disappear.

He doesn't answer, not with words. His lips capture hers again, his hands finding her waist, his gestures becoming more insistent, more urgent. She tenses under his fingers, then relaxes, letting herself go into this embrace where there is no promise, no future, just the moment.

Their clothes become a hindrance, useless barriers that they remove with an almost animal urgency. The rain continues to fall in a torrent around them, hiding them from the rest of the world, as if this alley belongs only to them.

Jinx shoves him hard against the slippery wall, her breath quick against his cheek. She stares at him, an unreadable expression on her face: a mix of defiance and fear.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" she asks, her voice sharp but tinged with a doubt that's unlike her.

He shakes his head, placing a hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing her cold skin.

"Should I?" he whispers, and the sincerity in his voice seems to disarm her.

She bursts into a nervous, almost hysterical laugh before silencing him with a wild, messy kiss. Her hands are shaking slightly, but she refuses to stop. She needs this, this feeling of control and chaos at the same time.

Yes, you should, she thinks, just as afraid of herself.

The rain continues to fall, cold and merciless, seeping into their soaked clothes and sticking to their skin. The distant rumble of thunder seems to mark the irregular tempo of their breaths. They are there, in this muddy alley, like two lost souls trying to hold on to something, to someone.

When their bodies finally meet, there is no softness, but a strange intimacy. Ékko slides his hands to her hips, trembling slightly, not from the cold, but from a mixture of fear and desire. He gently pushes her against the wall, his lips traveling her neck, leaving burning marks despite the ambient coldness.

Jinx shivers, but it is not only because of the cold that whips their bodies. It is a strange heat, an inner fire that she cannot extinguish, that consumes her every time he is near her. Her fingers find the back of his neck, clinging to it as if she were afraid he would disappear.

"You think we're done for, you and me?" she whispers, almost under her breath.

Ekko lifts his head, his gaze fixed on hers, intense and unfathomable.

"Maybe. But I stopped looking for answers with you."

He slides to his knees, his hands following the curve of her thighs. The contact is hesitant at first, almost timid, as if he fears breaking her. But Jinx is not fragile. She never has been. Yet in this moment, she feels seen, truly seen, in a way she doesn't fully understand.

The cold slaps her now bare thighs, making them pink and trembling, but she remains still. She looks at him, her blue hair sticking to her face, the rain streaming down her cheeks like unshed tears.

When Ékko presses his lips to her skin, a shiver runs through her. It's not like the last time. It's not abrupt, rushed, as if he's only trying to fill a void inside him. This time, he takes his time. His lips are soft, almost reverent, tracing an invisible line along her thighs.

She closes her eyes, letting her head fall back, her hands instinctively finding his shoulder to keep her balance. Each kiss is a silent promise, an attempt to say everything he can't put into words.

— "Ékko..." she whispers, her voice wavering, almost unrecognizable.

He doesn't answer, but his gaze, raised briefly to her, says it all. He wants her to know that she matters, that he's there, despite everything, even if she never asks for it. His hands find her hips, holding them firmly as he continues on his way.

When Ekko finally reaches her center, Jinx tenses, a breath escaping her parted lips. It's not just the gesture that strikes her, but the manner. Each movement seems charged with an attention she doesn't associate with them. This isn't what they usually did: rough, fast, almost a power struggle. Here, he's slow, almost cautious, as if he's trying to understand the broken pieces inside her, to touch them with a tenderness she didn't think she deserved.

His fingers slide gently under the damp fabric of her panties, and he pauses for a moment, his palm in direct contact with her skin. He feels the dampness before he even wonders if it's from the rain or something else. The contact is intimate, but he remains frozen, as if to give her a chance to pull back, to tell him no. She doesn't. Instead, she arches slightly, her hips responding before his mouth.

The tension in the air is almost palpable. The rain hits their skin insistently through the cracks in the bridge, and the slippery mud beneath them makes every movement more uncertain, more clumsy, but nothing stops them. Ékko runs his nails lightly against the tender flesh of her thighs, tracing invisible lines that make her shiver. She is frozen, her legs shaking under the onslaught of cold, but she says nothing. Jinx has never liked to show her weakness.

In the shadow of the bridge, under the pouring rain, Ékko feels everything at once. The texture of her skin under his trembling fingers, the tension in her muscles, as if she hesitates to give in. He is aware of every detail—the cold that bites at her thighs and buttocks, the way she looks away, refusing to meet his gaze. Yet he continues, his movements precise, almost clumsy, but driven by a feverish determination: to show her that she can be more than this chaos she drags around with her. That she deserves to be touched with care.

When he finally pulls the clingy fabric aside, a breath escapes his lips. She frowns, as if she wants to say something, but the words don't come. Ekko had barely stepped back to remove the layer of clothing, falling to her feet, but damn the cold slapped her immediately. He grabs one of her knees, guiding her leg to rest on his shoulder. She stiffens at first, her gaze lost in space, a habit he knows all too well. Then she relaxes, her fingers instinctively searching for the white dreads that brush the inside of her thigh. Each kiss he places on her skin is both strange and comforting. It's the first time he's allowed himself to touch her like this, and he wants her to feel it fully.

Jinx, for her part, oscillates between contradictory thoughts. A part of her gives in to the moment, loses itself in his attention. But another, darker part, whispers unpleasant truths. It wasn't the first time she'd felt this way—not this way, not here. A fleeting thought crosses her, a shadow from the past that she immediately chases away. Each movement of his lips takes her back to a place she'd rather forget. Another mouth, another story. But Ékko isn't him. The gentle, almost hesitant pressure he exerts is different. She struggles against the weight of these memories, clinging to the present moment. He's not Silco. It's not the same. But despite herself, the echo of this memory weighs down the air, and she tenses, caught between the present and the specters she thought buried.

— "You think too much," Ékko murmurs, his mouth full as he briefly looks up at her.

His voice brings her back to the present, an anchor she didn't know she was looking for. He had said the same thing to her three months ago. His fingers slide through her hair, an involuntary, almost tender gesture, but she finds herself liking the feeling. He interprets this contact as a signal: a permission she finally grants him. He smiles against her, a bittersweet expression she doesn't see, but she feels.

When she feels his warm breath reach her core, her body responds before she does. A shiver runs down her spine, and she grips his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh through the wet fabric. He is focused, as if absorbed by this mission he has given himself. The rain masks the noises, but she can't ignore the feeling of his tongue against her, a mixture of gentleness and urgency.

Ékko is attentive to every reaction. He feels the way her body adjusts, the tension that gradually escapes. She doesn't make it easy: Jinx has never been one to give in completely, even in these moments. But he persists, his fingers sliding against her skin, exploring the contours he can guess through her tremors. When he decides to put a finger inside her, he's careful to go slowly. Her body tenses again, but he waits, watching her face, seeking silent approval that she finally gives him by pushing lightly against him.

He adds a second finger, then a third, following the rhythm she unconsciously sets. She arches her back, her hands now gripping his hair, sometimes pulling harder than she should, but he doesn't complain. To him, it's a sign that she's there, that she feels something beyond the chaos that surrounds them. Every movement, every breath she releases proves to him that she's clinging to this connection, even in this fragile moment where he could lose it.

The taste of her skin, the mixture of salt and rain, lingers on his tongue, a reminder that they are here, under this bridge that seems almost threatening in its coldness and roughness. Yet, through this hard and icy stone, they find a fragile warmth, a pure intensity. They are in a world that seems to want to break them, but in this precise moment, they hold on. Together.

The seconds slowly fade away. Jinx finally lets go, releasing the tension that has held her in place for so long. It is as if the whole weight of the world is collapsing with her, a dizzying descent into abandonment. Ekko raises her head, her eyes fixing on his. They are veiled, on the edge of a despair that she hides under a mask of indifference. But for once, it is not chaos that shines in her pupils.

In this fragile moment, he sees something else: a glimmer of humanity, of vulnerability. Not the unpredictable, unleashed Jinx he knows, but a wounded, lost young woman, searching for a place where she can finally be herself without the crushing weight of the world on her shoulders.

And he, despite everything, finds a certain peace in this disorder. An unsettling calm, born of a proximity so intimate that he no longer seeks to understand what binds them, but simply to savor each fragment of this moment.

Between each movement, each caress, Ekko feels the way her thighs tighten around his head, almost suffocating him. He presses his hands firmly on her hips, holding them in place as she unconsciously tries to escape the intensity of the act. A sweet pain invades him when she pulls violently on his hair, an involuntary gesture, almost reflexive, that he tolerates with a certain passivity, a soothing murmur against her lips to calm her. He gently nibbles her lower lip, an unspoken but powerful command, implicitly asking her to stop fidgeting. He loves hearing the hoarse sound she makes, that breath broken by pain and pleasure mixed together, but it is sadly drowned out by the din of the pouring rain.

His warm breath gently caresses her skin, sliding against her intimate lips with a delectable slowness. The white dreadlocks gently brush the delicate flesh of her body, their rough texture contrasting against the softness of her soaked skin. He intertwines his sloppy kisses along her thigh, each touch a promise of possession that he fully accepts. When he gets closer, his lips brush her intimacy with an almost obsessive attention, an irrepressible need to mark her, to mark her as if he could, ineffably, seal her in this sacred moment.

When she finally allows herself to let go, it's as if the weight of the world falls with her. Ékko raises his head, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity she's never seen before. She looks lost, completely disconnected from everything she thought she understood about their relationship. But for once, it's not chaos that shines in her eyes, it's not the unbridled madness that so often inhabits her. It's a glimmer of vulnerability, sweet and pure, that pierces the mask she wears so well. She feels every muscle in her body relax, a wave of intense pleasure invades her like a tide that carries everything in its path. It's not a raw and animal pleasure, like the one she experienced three months ago, in an unthinking and unprepared rush, where he had taken her without regard for her desires or her limits. No, this moment is different. He's in the moment, aware of every shiver that runs through her body, every sigh it elicits. And that makes all the difference. Her body trembles with the intensity of the moment, but it's not a paralyzing fear. It's a tremor of ecstasy, of letting go, a release of everything she's kept locked away for so long. She whispers his name to him, a trembling breath, a soft plea that's at the same time a silent prayer for this moment of pure complicity.

The silence that follows is broken only by the pouring rain, but it's a charged silence, full of things they don't say. Ékko pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged, watching Jinx as if he's trying to read her. She looks away, her cheeks turning red, but it's not just from the effort or the biting cold. She feels naked, exposed, and not just in her body.

He gently removes his hand from her thigh, careful not to hurt her. She shivers again as the cold air replaces the warmth of his fingers, but she remains still. Ekko runs a hand over her face, wiping the water from her cheeks, but also, perhaps, to mask the confusion that is settling inside him.

He wants to say something, to fill the space between them, but the words get stuck in his throat. It wasn't meant to be. None of this was. Yet in the chaos of their relationship, he feels a strange clarity: he wants her to feel seen, to know that he understands her, even if she refuses to believe it.

For her part, Jinx can't stop her thoughts from drifting. The memory of another man is still there, lurking in the shadows, a specter she can't chase away. The difference between them is clear, almost painful: when one controlled her, shaped her, Ekko lets her be. But that makes it even more complicated, because she doesn't know how to handle this freedom he's giving her.

"Why..." she begins, but she stops herself, biting her lower lip.

Ekko looks up, his eyelashes heavy with rain. "Why what?" he asks softly, his fingers sliding over her knee as if to reassure her.

She hesitates, her throat tight. It's not like him to be vulnerable, and she hates the way he looks at her, as if he sees past the mask she tries to wear. "Why do you care?"

He frowns slightly, and for a moment, he looks like he's about to laugh, but he stops himself. "Why not?" he answers, his voice filled with a sincerity that disarms her.

She looks away, staring at an invisible point in the distance. "This is going to end badly." You know that, right? " she whispers.

He nods, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean it's not worth it."

The words hit her harder than she could have imagined. Jinx has always lived in the moment, in destruction and impulsiveness, but never in the idea of ​​something that might have value. She looks at him again, searching for a trace of doubt in his eyes, but she sees only this determination that makes her as furious as it is strangely reassured.

Without thinking, she reaches out to grab his face, her cold, trembling fingers brushing his cheek. "You're too kind, Ékko," she breathes.

"This is what will kill you," she thinks.

The weight of their choices, their mistakes, seems to hang in the air between them. Yet in this stolen moment in the rain, they find a fragile respite, a glimmer of something they can't name.

When Jinx finally straightens, she leans lightly against him, her legs still trembling. He helps her without a word, his arm slipping naturally around her waist. The mud on their clothes, the icy rain, it all seems suddenly insignificant.

"We should go back," he says finally, breaking the silence.

She nods, but doesn't move right away. Instead, she stares into his eyes, a slight smile on her face. He reaches up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers brushing her cold, damp cheek. But she doesn't move, doesn't push him away. Ekko, for his part, feels a mixture of frustration and burning affection. The anger he's carried for years, the pain of betrayal, all of it fades in this moment as he holds her against him.

— "We should," she finally answers him.

But instead, he leans down, his forehead touching hers, a pause in the tumult, a moment of calm between them. She closes her eyes at his answer, letting her defenses fall one by one. Her hands slide down his arms, trying to hold on to him, to what he represents.

He lifts her slowly, his hands firm under her thighs, feeling the hardness of the rough stone beneath her bare feet, her back brushing the cold surface with each step. Jinx unbuttons his pants, freeing her frozen hand to caress his warm skin, feeling the throbbing of his groin against her fingers. Damn, he had really thought he would have to jerk off two blocks away as soon as she left him, but she stayed, much to his delight. He already felt ready to explode just hearing her moan and arch her back like she did earlier.

He pulls his boxers down quickly, each second adding to their anticipation. But as he barely lowers them, she is already pushing him, her fingers pressed against him. Her opening, carefully prepared, welcomes him immediately. He enters slowly, the cunnilingus having been enough to prepare for this moment. The rhythm settles naturally, their bodies perfectly linked.

In this position, he can finally fully hear the sighs and moans that escape softly from her mouth. His lips against her neck, he breathes in her scent, savoring every noise she makes. The sounds resonate in the silence of the night, amplified by the intimacy and the echo of the rough bridge beneath them.

His hands close firmly on her buttocks, holding her in place, preventing her from tipping over. She then wraps her legs around him, wrapping him firmly around her hips, each movement carefully synchronized. He feels her body react, each muscle trembling slightly under the heat and pressure.

The slight pain of the stone against their damp skin melts into the growing ecstasy. But despite this, the sensation is strange, brutal, punctuated by their rapid breaths. Jinx murmurs imprecise words, thoughts she doesn't formulate out loud. Each sensation becomes sharper, more intense.

He stays focused, attentive to her reactions. Every gesture, every friction pushes him to go further, to dig a little deeper into this intimate space between them. When she moans against his ear, his fingers slide gently to ease the pressure. But he loves hearing these sounds, even if the rain falling around them muffles the noise a little.

His lips gently nibble her lower lip, preventing her from moving too much. He knows she is fighting against her own instincts, and he loves this vulnerability, this temporary loss of control. Each tension, each murmur is a victory in this fight between desire and restraint.

But as he feels a moan of pain vibrate against his lips, he realizes that what he feels running down his fingers clutching his buttocks is not rain, but blood. He removes one of his hands to examine what he has perceived, staring at the palm stained a dark red color. She immediately complains about Ekko's lack of movement, her frustrated tone counterbalancing the softness she had previously felt.

"Shit..." she whispers, her eyes narrowed in a grimace, anxiety tinged with impatience as she notices the lack of movement. "You're only holding me with one hand?" Her voice is cold, but he senses a glimmer of frustration. He watches the drop of blood on the water that slowly cleans her palm, his gaze captivated by the contrast.

He then decides to slowly lower her to her feet, gently pulling away to avoid hurting her further. A discreet sound escapes, a vaginal fart, almost imperceptible but present, almost embarrassing, which testifies to the intense friction between them, the intimate contact and the vulnerability of the moment. He barely holds her back when he sees her wobbling on her legs, her breath short and irregular. She fixes her gaze on him, perplexed and frustrated, as if she doesn't understand what he's playing.

Ekko turns her around abruptly, his hands gripping her hips like an anchor in this sea of ​​chaos that is Jinx. She topples back against the wall, her breath hitting the cold, rough surface. The impact isn't violent, but firm enough to draw a small, muffled gasp from her. She doesn't protest; instead, her fingers brush the stone as if to steady herself.

He takes a step back, his gaze devouring every detail of her exposed body. The flickering light casts shadows on her pale skin, but it's the marks that catch his attention. Those scars that tear at her flesh, etched memories of battles he doesn't know. One in particular strikes him: a crescent-shaped bite, deep and poorly healed, just at the base of her neck.

His breath catches in his throat.

She didn't have it, last time. This bite, this symbol of pain, is an enigma that screams a story she has never told him. He finds himself raising a hand, hesitating, brushing the strange mark with his fingertips.

"Damn it, Ekko, hurry up!" she breathes impatiently, her tone breaking the thread of his thoughts. She arches her back slightly, trying to encourage him, to anchor him in the moment.

He blinks, torn from his contemplation. His body responds to his call before his mind can even make a decision. With a slow but assured thrust, he returns to her.

The heat envelops him instantly, like a fiery and relentless embrace. He groans weakly, his fingers digging lightly into the flesh of her hips to stabilize himself. Yet, despite the intensity of the moment, he can't help but remain slow, almost cautious.

His gaze tirelessly returns to those scars, to that bite. Each thrust is gentle, measured, as if he were afraid of breaking her further.

"Faster!" she growls.

Her tone, raspy and demanding, cuts short her doubts. But even with this order, he doesn't speed up. His hand, almost instinctively, slides along her back, following the curve of her spine to that bite that he can't ignore.

The contact makes her shudder. Her back arches even more, accentuating each line of her body under his hands.

"Fuck, you're such a coward, Ekko!" she spits, her voice sharp as a slap.

The word hits him full force. A wave of frustration and desire mixed together rises in him, uncontrollable. Before he can think, his hand falls on the curve of her buttocks in a clean, precise, almost impulsive smack. The noise echoes beneath the bridge, raw, and he freezes instantly, his breath short, his heart pounding.

The silence that follows is icy, oppressive.

Ekko freezes, his heart pounding. His fingers are still shaking, hanging in the air, as if he doesn't believe what he's just done. Jinx stays still. Her breath seems to hang, as does his.

Shit. What have I done?

Slowly, she turns her head toward him, her blue locks sticking to her face. Her gaze meets his, unfathomable. Her eyes, always so full of madness and emotion, are different now. Something indecipherable shines in her pupils. A light he doesn't understand, but that consumes him.

And then she whispers, in an almost trembling, almost inaudible breath:

"Again."

The whisper strikes him down on the spot. "Again." A simple syllable, but it shakes him like a breaking wave. Ekko feels his breath catch, his chest tighten. His mind vacillates between the chaos of his own thoughts and the brutal reality of the moment. He hesitates, frozen, unable to move. His body cries out to keep going, but his conscience screams that he must stop. Yet his hands remain clutched at her hips, trembling, as if a single gesture could break or fix everything.

She doesn't let him think. Slowly, she arches her back further, pressing her hips against him, a languid, willful movement, letting her intention resonate clearly. He feels the tension in her body, that explosive mix of abandon and provocation. She's playing with him, but not like before. Not like a capricious child. This time, it's different. He feels it in the way her fingers barely brush the wall, in the imperceptible tremor of her shoulders. She's asking for him, but there's something broken in her desire.

Ekko takes a deep breath, his fingers digging deeper into the tender flesh of her hips. He tries to keep control, but his inner voice is drowned out by the tumult of his emotions. Her. Her scars. Her words. The crushing weight of his own need.

He starts again, slowly at first, trying to cling to a gentleness he knows is already insufficient. His movements are almost hesitant, his hands exploring her back as if to apologize for what he's just done. His fingers trace the rough lines of her scars, the marks that weren't there before. He brushes against a particularly deep one, and he feels his heart tighten.

She shivers under his touch, but not in the way he'd hoped. "Don't be gentle, Ekko," she whispers in a raspy voice, her words sharp, almost cruel. "That's not what I want." »

These words hit like a stab. He is there, torn between the man who wants to comfort her and the one she demands, raw, without pity. And it is the latter that she seems to demand, pushing him to abandon his own reservations.

He cracks. His fingers tighten around her, his rhythm becomes more imperious, more raw. He no longer thinks, no longer calculates. He lets his body take over, responding to each movement of hers with an intensity that he cannot control.

When Ekko raises his hand again, his mind wavers between a thousand thoughts, all contradictory. Every fiber of his being screams that he shouldn't, that she deserves better, that she shouldn't ask him this. But she did it. She asked, demanded even, in a hoarse voice that still resonates in his head.

He hits.

His hand slams against the curve of her ass with brutal precision. A sharp sound, amplified by the heavy silence around them, echoes. His palm tingles instantly, the sensation of impact vibrating all the way down his arm.

Jinx, for her part, arches slightly in shock. It's not a reaction of recoil, but rather an instinctive movement, an opening that she offers him, as if she's welcoming the pain and what it represents. Her breathing, already jerky, stops briefly before starting again, more breathless, deeper. Her skin, so fragile in some places marked by scars, takes on a pinkish tint where Ekko's hand struck.

He stares at her, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that he can't untangle. Part of him is horrified by his own actions, another is fascinated by the way she responds. She doesn't withdraw, doesn't protest. On the contrary, she moves her hips slightly, inviting him to continue.

"Y-yes... Go," she whispers, almost inaudible, but he can still hear the inflection in her voice. She's shaking slightly, but it's not from fear. There's something vulnerable, almost pleading, in the way she asks, though she still tries to keep that mask of assurance.

He hits again, a little harder this time. The sound, this time, is duller, and he feels the skin under his palm grow warmer. His heart beats so fast it feels like it might explode. He swallows, searching his own sensations for something familiar, but what he finds terrifies him. The heat of his own arousal, mixed with the guilt that eats away at him, is a toxic mixture that pushes him further.

She lets out a shaky sigh, half moan, half groan, as if pain and pleasure are inseparable. Ekko can't take his eyes off her back. He sees the muscles in her shoulders tense with every movement, her fingers gripping the ground as if she's looking for an anchor in the chaos they create together.

But it's not just a physical act. No, there's a storm behind her eyes, one he sees every time she briefly turns her head to look at him. A flicker between defiance, desire, and a pain far deeper than he could ever understand.

"You want this, huh?" he whispers, his voice hoarse than he intended. It's not a real question, but he needs to hear it, to see her answer, as if to justify his own actions.

She turns her head toward him, her face marked by a blush that has nothing to do with shame. Her lips part, her eyes shining with an almost disturbing intensity. "I told you, Ekko. Be rough, or be nothing."

The words shake her. He strikes a third time, but this time, he accompanies the movement with a pressure of his fingers on her skin. He doesn't just want to hurt her; he wants to feel the heat of her body, to understand what drives her to demand this.

"Why, Jinx?" he finally whispers, in a breath that is almost lost in their heavy breathing.

She doesn't answer, her head falling slightly forward as she breathes deeply, her blue locks stuck to her forehead with sweat. His own body, though tense with effort and guilt, relaxes slightly at this silence. He realizes that he can't fill the emptiness she carries inside her, not with his hands, not with his words. But he can be what she asks of him, for this fleeting moment when they are only broken fragments that fit together perfectly.

When he hits her one last time, he makes sure to accompany this gesture with a gentle movement of his other hand on her back. A barely perceptible caress, but one that makes her shudder in a different way. He seeks an impossible balance, between brutality and tenderness, and he doesn't know if he succeeds.

But she, she moans, a hoarse sound that trembles in her throat, before murmuring, almost to herself: "Don't stop..."

The sounds she makes bewitch and torture him at the same time. Each moan, each sigh locks him a little more in this spiral. But he can't help but look for something in her reactions, a clue that she is still there, that he doesn't lose her every moment.

Then, suddenly, she stretches an arm back, trying to grab something, anything. Her nails graze his skin, and he feels the burn of this contact, however light it may be. His breathing becomes heavier. "There...! V-quickly," she repeats, but this time, her voice trembles slightly, as if she were fighting to maintain this mask of insolence that she always wears.

He obeys. He has no choice.

A hoarse moan escapes his lips, uncontrollable. She gives herself up against him, her body vibrating with each impact. This time, he no longer thinks. His rhythm changes, becoming deeper, more daring. Each thrust tears a new sound from Jinx, sometimes a moan, sometimes a whimper.

She clings to the wall, her fingers sliding over the rough surface. Her muscles tense and relax, her body vibrating under each assault. The tension in the air is almost palpable, a dance between pain and pleasure, between control and surrender.

"That's... that's it... don't stop..." she pants, her voice hoarse, trembling.

Her words encourage him, push him to go further, deeper. He feels his own breathing become erratic, every fiber of his body straining towards her. His hands slide from her hips to her waist, squeezing a little tighter, pulling her against him with each movement.

But he remains caught in an inner war that he no longer knows how to wage. He sees her losing herself, he loses himself with her. And yet, something inside him clings to this tiny possibility that they could be more than that.

"Jinx..." he whispers, but his voice is barely a breath. He doesn't know what he means, or why he speaks. Maybe he hopes to bring her back to him, or maybe he's simply trying to fill this oppressive void between them.

She doesn't answer. She only moves, more demanding, more daring. And he follows, unable to resist, unable to say no. His hands wander, exploring every curve, every mark, every scar. He wants to understand. He wants to know what she's hiding, what she feels. But she doesn't give him that chance. She keeps him at a distance, even now, even in this moment of almost unbearable closeness.

They are lost, both of them. But in this chaos, there is a brutal and undeniable truth: they are together. For better or for worse.

She suddenly tenses, her back arching violently. Her muscles contract around him, so tight that he groans, his head falling slightly forward. Their bodies are in perfect sync, caught in a whirlwind where nothing exists but the two of them.

She trembles against him, her legs wobbling, and he supports her, his arms around her waist to keep her upright. She suddenly tightens around him, an almost unbearable tension that makes him groan in spite of himself. She trembles, her body vibrating with spasms that she does not try to hold back.

He whispers her name, but she does not answer, too lost in the intensity of the moment. She is burning around him, a heat that he never wants to leave. He lets himself be carried away with her, his thoughts eclipsed by the overwhelming wave of the moment. All that remains is them, bound together in an intimacy as destructive as it is devouring.

When she finally collapses against his chest, panting, he holds her close, his fingers sliding gently over her shoulders, as if to soothe the tremors that still shake her body.

Jinx's panting breath mixes with Ekko's, creating an ephemeral symphony amidst the icy silence of the room. They stand frozen for a moment, their bodies still intertwined, struggling to find regular breathing. But reality, cold and implacable, quickly creeps between them.

Ekko pulls back slightly, sliding a trembling hand over his own face to wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead. He forces himself to break the oppressive intimacy, to put some distance between them.

Jinx turns away from him slightly, still half-leaning against the wall, catching her breath. A shiver runs through her as she clumsily tugs at her pants to pull them up. But before she can manage to zip them up, a sensation makes her hesitate. She glances down, her fingers instinctively brushing the inside of her thighs. A thin, warm, damp trail slips there, a mixture of sweat, of their brutal union. She stops for a moment, as if fascinated by this trace of their moment.

Ekko observes her in silence, his gaze captivated by her gestures. His own body, still tense from the effort, keeps the burning sensations of their embrace. He feels the dampness on his skin, the way she enveloped him a few moments ago. He can't help but wonder if it bothers her, if she cares. But he knows Jinx: chaos is her refuge, and details like this don't scare her.

She ends up zipping up her pants with a sudden gesture, as if to close this ephemeral chapter, her nimble fingers pulling on the crumpled fabric. But when she tries to tie the belt, her hands shake. He notices her, of course, but doesn't say anything. Not right away.

The cold air envelopes them, and Ekko quickly grabs his jacket. His Firelight jacket.

"Here." He holds out the jacket, hesitant, as if afraid she won't accept it.

Jinx looks up, first at him, then at the garment. A smile stretches across her lips, not the kind that lights up a room, but a cynical, slightly mocking smile.

"What? Are you afraid I'll catch a cold?"

"Jinx... take it," he murmurs simply, without raising the barb.

She reaches out and grabs the jacket, without insisting further. She quickly slips it around his shoulders, her fingers lingering on the collar to hold on. For a moment, he thinks he sees a softer expression on her face, a vestige of the Jinx from before. Powder. He never thought he'd see her wearing the same outfit as those she regularly shoots...

But when she leans against the wall, her fingers gripping the jacket he gave her, she winces slightly. A dull pain runs through her, echoing the slap he gave her.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs, finally breaking the silence.

She stares at him for a moment, her gaze betraying a slight embarrassment that she tries to hide. But instead of answering directly, she lets out a small laugh, almost mocking.

"You really don't have a soft hand, huh?" she says, settling slowly on the ground, her back to the wall.

Ekko hesitates, then sits down too, keeping a careful distance. He never knows at what exact moment she might explode, or worse, collapse.

"You liked it," he replies softly, a smirk on his lips, but his voice is tinged with a nervousness he can't hide.

"Maybe." She shrugs, pulling the jacket tighter around her. Her fingers play absently with the edges of the collar, her gaze avoiding his. "Or maybe I just wanted to see if you were capable of anything other than walking on eggshells."

He stares at her, searching for hidden meaning in her words. But she remains enigmatic, her face half-hidden by a lock of blue hair.

A silence falls between them, broken only by the sound of their breathing slowly calming down.

"You could have told me, you know," he finally murmurs, his eyes sliding down to her back, where the still-fresh scars are outlined in the dim light.

She clenches her jaw, but doesn't look at him. "Tell you what? That the world is rotten? That I'm a fucking puzzle with missing pieces?"

"That you're hurting, Jinx."

Those words, simple but sharp, freeze her. She finally looks up at him, and for a moment, he thinks he sees a crack in her armor. But she closes her eyes again, her expression hardening.

"I hurt, yeah. So?" She almost hisses the words, but the tone is less acerbic than she would have liked.

Ekko sighs softly, running a hand over his face. He chooses not to answer, not wanting to break this fragile bubble they share.

She looks away, staring at an invisible point in front of her. "Don't worry, I'm not going to give you a big dramatic speech, huh. I'm not that kind of girl."

He sketches a sad smile, almost imperceptible. "No, you're not that kind of girl."

A new silence settles, but this time, it is less heavy. She sways slightly on the spot, playing with the tails of the jacket.

"You know what? " she suddenly says, in a lighter, almost dreamy voice. "That jacket... it stinks."

He bursts out laughing in spite of himself, a soft and short sound that seems to surprise her. "Yeah, well you're not really in a position to criticize, Miss Explosion."

She laughs too, a short but sincere laugh, and for a moment, everything seems almost normal between them.

Then, she turns away and notices her mask, lying nearby. She grabs it and turns it between her fingers, her gestures strangely calm.

"Always that damn owl, huh?" she says, playing with the edges of the mask, her eyes fixed on him as if to probe his intentions. She had guessed who was hiding under this mask for a long time, taking care to avoid him at many times. As if he weren't part of the flying targets.

Ekko takes a deep breath, thinking about his words before answering. He knows that anything he says could shatter this fragile moment.

"The owl..." He approaches her slowly, his hands in his pockets so as not to appear threatening. "It's the only bird that can see blue."

She stops short, her fingers frozen on the mask. Her eyes, usually so lively and full of mischief, suddenly darken.

"Blue?" she whispers, her tone curious but laden with a nuance he can't decipher.

"Yeah." He smiles softly, but his smile falters at her expression. "I know, it sounds stupid, but... I find it beautiful. Blue is like... a color you can't really see. Not completely. But he can."

The silence that follows is heavy, almost unbearable. Jinx looks away, her gaze lost in space.

"So, you see the blue?" she finally says, her voice sharp, almost cruel.

Ekko stands still, searching for an answer. She chuckles weakly before he can say anything.

"You're so naive, Ekko." She turns, tightening the jacket around her shoulders. "Don't you get it? Blue isn't meant to be seen. Not by you, anyway."

He holds out his hand, but she takes a step back.

"Jinx... why are you doing this? Why are you barricading yourself in like that?"

She stares at him, and for a moment, he thinks he sees a hint of honesty in her eyes. But it disappears as quickly as it came.

"...Because it's easier." She shrugs, as if the answer is obvious. "You and your owl think you see things no one else can. But you haven't seen anything, Ekko." You have no idea what this is."

"And you, you think I'm going to let you go like that?" He takes a step forward, his voice firmer this time. "You think I didn't see what those scars say? What you're hiding behind all this?"

She snickers again, but it's empty. Tired.

"Maybe. But what difference does it make, huh? What do you think? That you're going to save me? Fix me? Wake up. You're the one who's going to break yourself, not me."

Her voice cracks slightly at the end, and Ekko feels his heart clench. He reaches out to her, but she pulls back again.

"No." She shakes her head, her gaze shifting. "Not this time." This time she would be the one to let him go, she wouldn't humiliate herself like this again.

"Jinx, wait..."

But she doesn't listen to him. She hands him back his jacket with a quick, almost brutal gesture and turns away. Still holding the mask in her hands, she heads toward the rain without another word.

Ekko remains frozen, his hand still stretched out into the void.

And the mask is planted in the mud.

When she disappears into the shadows, he murmurs, almost to himself:

"Blue, I always see it... Everywhere."

And for the first time in a long time, the cold that surrounds him is nothing compared to the one that freezes his heart.

- Flashback -