Ekko was back on the rooftop, his usual spot above Zaun's chaos. It was quiet here, save for the hum of distant machinery and the occasional hiss of steam pipes. He'd come to this place so often in recent weeks that the metal slats of the roof felt like home. Tonight, though, he wasn't tinkering or sketching blueprints. Instead, he sat cross-legged, staring out over the patchwork sprawl of the Undercity.
In his hand was the wind-up bird he'd made weeks ago. Its gears had been smoothed and polished, the tiny wings adjusted to perfection. He turned it over in his hands, watching the light from the streetlamps reflect off its delicate frame.
"Still playing with toys?"
The familiar voice cut through the stillness, sharp but tinged with warmth. Ekko looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he spotted Powder standing a few feet away.
She'd changed—he could see it in her stance, the way she carried herself with a confidence that hadn't been there before. Her signature blue braids were messier, streaked with grime from whatever escapades she'd been up to, and her eyes sparkled with a restless energy.
"Powder," he said, the name coming out in a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Hey," she replied, stepping closer. "Thought I'd find you here."
Ekko smiled faintly. "You always did know where to look."
Powder dropped down to sit beside him, crossing her legs and resting her arms on her knees. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt fragile, like a thread stretched taut, ready to snap or weave them together again.
"You've been busy," Powder said at last, glancing at the bird in his hands.
"So have you," Ekko countered, his tone more neutral than he felt. "Running with Vi, making trouble."
Powder chuckled softly, but it lacked her usual mischief. "Yeah, well... that's what I'm good at, right?"
Ekko frowned, turning the bird over again. "You're good at a lot of things. Trouble doesn't have to be one of them."
She didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the hazy skyline. "I didn't mean to leave you out," she said finally. "It's just... things got complicated."
"Complicated how?" Ekko asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.
Powder shrugged. "Vi's got plans, big ones. She thinks we can change things, make Zaun better. And I want to help her. I really do. But sometimes it feels like I'm just... tagging along, you know? Like I'm not good enough."
Ekko turned to look at her, his heart aching at the vulnerability in her voice. "Powder, you're more than good enough. You always have been."
She met his eyes, her lips twitching into a small, uncertain smile. "You're just saying that because you're my friend."
"I'm saying it because it's true," Ekko said firmly. "You're creative, you're smart, and you care more than anyone I know. That's what makes you... you."
Powder's smile grew, soft and genuine. "Thanks, Ekko. I... I've missed you."
Ekko felt the tension in his chest loosen, replaced by a warmth that spread through him. "I've missed you too."
They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind they used to share during their adventures. Ekko reached into his pocket, pulling out the wind-up bird.
"I made this for you," he said, holding it out.
Powder took it carefully, her eyes lighting up as she examined the delicate craftsmanship. "Ekko, this is amazing," she said, her voice filled with awe.
"It's a reminder," he said. "Of the good times. And that no matter what happens, you'll always have someone who believes in you."
Powder wound the tiny key on the bird's back, watching as its wings began to flap. The soft whir of gears filled the air, and a quiet laugh escaped her lips. "It's perfect," she said, cradling it like a treasure.
For the next hour, they talked. Not about the things that had kept them apart, but about the memories that had brought them together. They laughed over the prank wars they'd waged, reminisced about the time they'd built a "rocket" out of scrap metal, and shared their dreams for the future.
"Do you still want to change the world?" Powder asked, tilting her head as she watched Ekko.
"Yeah," Ekko said, his voice soft but sure. "But I've been thinking... maybe it's not about inventing the one thing that fixes everything. Maybe it's about helping people, one step at a time."
Powder nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I like that. Helping people... that's what Vi wants to do, too. Maybe you two aren't so different after all."
Ekko smirked. "Don't tell her that. She might take it as an insult."
Powder laughed, and the sound was like music to Ekko's ears.
The night stretched on, but neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave. Powder leaned back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the stars barely visible through the smog.
"You know," she said, her voice quieter now, "sometimes I feel like I don't belong anywhere. Not with Vi and the others, not with... anyone."
Ekko frowned, shifting closer. "Powder, you belong with me," he said without hesitation. "Always."
She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "You really mean that?"
"Of course," Ekko said, his voice firm. "No matter how much things change, or how far apart we drift, you'll always have a place with me."
For a moment, Powder said nothing. Then she reached out, her small hand gripping his. "Thanks, Ekko. I needed to hear that."
They stayed like that for a while, hands clasped as they watched the city below. It wasn't the carefree bond they'd shared as kids, but it was something new—something just as strong, if not stronger.
As the first hints of dawn began to creep across the horizon, Powder sighed. "I should get back. Vi's probably wondering where I am."
Ekko nodded, though he didn't want her to leave. "Yeah, okay."
Powder stood, clutching the wind-up bird to her chest.
"Goodnight, Ekko," she said, her voice soft.
Ekko's heart raced, but he managed a smile. "Goodnight, Powder."
She disappeared into the shadows, leaving Ekko alone on the rooftop. But for the first time in weeks, he didn't feel the ache of her absence. Instead, he felt hope—hope that, no matter how much they changed, the spark between them would never fade.