Undertow | Ekko x Reader

09

"Thanks," she said, her tone soft.

Ekko didn't respond. Instead, he tucked the knife back into his boot and turned toward the branch again. "Let's go," he said over his shoulder before climbing up once more.

This time, she followed without hesitation, her movements quick and sure despite the unfamiliar terrain. He could hear her climbing just behind him, her breath steady, her determination palpable. Whatever else she might be, Y/N wasn't afraid of a challenge.

They reached the top together, the night sky opening up above them in a stretch of stars barely visible through Zaun's polluted haze. The faint sounds of the Undercity felt miles away from up here, muffled by the tree's protective canopy. Ekko stopped and turned to look at her, waiting to see how she would react to the view.

The stars above stretched thin, faint against the smog of Zaun's atmosphere, yet still bright enough to pull a gasp from her lips. Ekko froze, his breath catching as he watched her—watched how her eyes lit up, wonder softening the sharpness in her features. 

Her gaze swept over the stars, then dipped down to the faint outlines of Piltover in the distance, its cold, mechanical glow stark against the murky silhouette of the Undercity far below. She took it all in, turning slowly as though imprinting the sight into her memory. Then, something else caught her attention—a single leaf hanging precariously from a branch nearby. 

She reached out, her movements deliberate, and gently took the leaf between her fingers. Her thumb brushed over its surface, tracing the delicate veins with an almost reverent care. 

Ekko's nerves surged to the surface. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, and for a fleeting moment, he debated saying nothing—keeping all of it to himself, the plan, the plea, the gamble he was about to make. But then his gaze fell to her again, her posture loose but thoughtful, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. 

He had to believe he was right about her. 

"I found this place when I was just a kid," he began, his voice low, almost hesitant. Her fingers stilled on the leaf, but she didn't turn to him, her gaze still fixed on the stars. "Stumbled across it by accident while running from some Enforcers. Back then, it felt like the only place in the Undercity that hadn't been ruined. A piece of something... untouched." 

He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's when I started the Firelights. I didn't have a plan at first—just an idea. To stop Silco from poisoning the Undercity with Shimmer. To stop Piltover from crushing us under their boots. I wanted to give people something to believe in. A reason to fight for a better Zaun." 

Her hand fell away from the leaf, but she still didn't look at him. Ekko's stomach tightened, and his words came quicker now, trying to fill the silence that had settled between them. 

"We've been fighting. Hard. For years now. But Silco... he's got too many people, too much power. Every step we take, it feels like we're pushed two steps back." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "We don't have the manpower, or the intel, to really make a dent. Not on our own." 

Finally, her head tilted slightly, the barest acknowledgment of his words. It spurred him on. 

"But with you..." His voice softened, the nervous edge creeping back in. "You know the Undercity like we do. You want the same thing we want—a united Zaun. A future that doesn't leave people like us in the dirt. If you helped us—if you worked as a double agent, fed us information, helped us get close to Silco—we could stop him. We could finally start to heal this place." 

Ekko fell silent, his heart pounding in the pause that followed. She didn't move, didn't speak, her gaze locked on the stars once more. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the stillness in her frame that screamed of the war raging inside her head. 

The moments stretched unbearably, and Ekko's confidence wavered. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she wasn't who he thought she was. 

But then, finally, she let out a long breath. Her head tilted back, her eyes closing for just a moment before she looked at him. Her voice, when it came, was soft but steady. 

"I'll do it." 

Ekko's chest loosened with relief, though he kept his face neutral, nodding once. Her gaze returned to the stars, and for the first time that night, Ekko thought he saw something in her stance—something fragile and unspoken. 

Hope.

Hope that he had reached her, that the life he'd shown her tonight might be enough to help her see there was another way forward. But then her expression shifted, her brows knitting together, and that faint frown tugged at her lips. The sight set him on edge.

"I won't be much help," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made Ekko's chest tighten. She didn't look at him, her eyes still on the sky as she continued. "Silco doesn't trust me. Never has. I don't know anything about his shimmer operations—or much of anything else, really. He keeps me in the dark unless it's about who he wants gone. No reasons, no explanations." Her jaw tightened, her voice growing bitter. "The only thing he makes sure I know is what happens if I fail. My life, for theirs. That's the deal."

She shook her head, and a sharp laugh escaped her lips, hollow and humorless. "It's funny, in a way. My whole life, I've just been a weapon for someone else to wield. One person's tool, then another's. Guess that's what I'm good for."

Ekko's throat tightened at her words. Something about the hollow finality in her voice left him deeply unsettled. He took a step closer, shaking his head firmly. "You're not a tool," he said, his voice low but steady. "You've just been surviving. That's not the same thing."

Her eyes finally left the stars, landing on him. For a moment, she simply stared, her gaze intense and searching, as if trying to figure out what to make of him. He stood still under her scrutiny, refusing to look away, even as it made his heart pound harder in his chest.

"If that's true," she said at last, tilting her head slightly, "then why am I still your prisoner?"

Ekko blinked, the question catching him off guard. Her tone wasn't angry or accusatory—it was quiet, measured, but the weight of it was undeniable.

"You're not," he said simply, gesturing to her hands. "They're not bound anymore, are they? And no one's going to stop you if you leave."

Y/N glanced down at her hands as if only now noticing their freedom. She flexed her fingers slightly, her expression unreadable, then looked back up at him, her brows furrowing.

"How can you trust me?" she asked, her voice sharper now. "You tell me all this, knowing I could just run back to Silco and tell him everything."

Ekko's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say. The blunt truth of her words hung in the air between them, undeniable. Finally, he let out a breath, running a hand over the back of his neck.

"I've thought about that," he admitted, his tone dry but honest.

Her brow arched, clearly unimpressed with his answer, but before she could say anything, he spoke again. "You could run back. You could tell him everything, but I don't think you will. So..." He shifted closer, his gaze steady as he looked her in the eye. "Are you going to?"

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned her head, her gaze drifting back toward the stars. The silence that followed was heavy, each second stretching unbearably long. Ekko told himself he wouldn't push her. Whatever decision she made, it had to be hers.

Finally, she let out a slow, quiet breath. "No," she said, her voice soft but certain.

Relief flooded Ekko's chest, his shoulders relaxing as a small, triumphant smile tugged at his lips.

"See?" he said, his voice gentler now. "You proved my point."

She turned to face him again, and though her expression remained guarded, there was something softer in her gaze. She didn't say anything, but Ekko didn't need her to. In that moment, he felt certain that a bridge had been built between them, fragile but real.

For the first time since meeting her, Ekko allowed himself to believe that they might truly be on the same side.