The Sixth | Ekko

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ekko smelt of wood and musk, Six noticed after her weeping died down.

She had thrown herself at him, the thought of him going away forever apparently something so unfathomable to her that she just needed to get him to shut up somehow.

She didn't know why she felt that way. Didn't understand how she went from flinching away from any contact he tried to initiate only for her to embrace him like the floor was crumbling underneath her and he was the last stable place to stand.

It was like he was the disease, but also the cure.

It was dizzying.

'I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Please don't go.'

Now they were on the ground, arms still around one another.

Ekko had one leg bent, knee resting against the ground, while the other remained straightened, the foot of his bent leg pressing against the side of his other knee. Momo was half on his lap and half off, their positioning awkward and yet he felt no urge to move. Her hair was everywhere, a blanket of wavy brown that flowed over his legs and fanned out across the ground. He couldn't see it, but didn't need to. He could feel it.

Since he was unable to see anything, he found that his other senses became heightened. He could feel the gentle weight of her arms around him, the tickle of her hair against his cheek, the soft rise and fall of her chest from her breathing. There was a distinct scent wafting from her hair, like herbs and flowers. He wondered if she made her own shampoo for a second before shooing away the thought. It was random and unnecessary... and also kind of weird.

She hadn't spoken a single word to him since they reunited, and Ekko was starting to think that she might've lost her voice after what he did to her. He'd seen her in this state before, back in the...

He foraged through his brain in search of something to say, anything that might draw her voice out again. Often times, he tripped when he tried speaking sincerely. And now, he didn't have his z-drive to help him rewind his awkward word choices, which otherwise would've allowed him to find just the right thing to say before sticking with it. Whatever he said would be final, and it needed to be eloquent. Something that could pry past the anxieties and disorder he had forged in her mind. Something to quell the rainstorm and bring forth some clarity.

"I'll take that as a sign that you don't want me to leave you alone then...?" he started, the phrase sounding better in his head.

Well, he couldn't take it back now.

"I won't leave you. Not unless you ask me to," he said.

She started to withdraw, but Ekko didn't want her to pull away yet. He still had things to say—things that would be easier to speak if he could still feel the warmth of her there. His hold on her tightened, and she went stiff, halting her extraction in her shock.

"I'm sorry," he uttered weakly, demeanour slackening, shoulders slumping. "I know I've said it a lot, but I mean it. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you," he spoke, the lump in his throat audible.

Six felt his fingers in her hair shudder as he struggled not to break down in front of her—next to her—against her. For the first time since... Ekko seemed more than just someone to hate. He was human. A flawed man with regrets. Someone who made mistakes. But unlike the villains she'd met in her life, he wasn't content with what he'd done. He mourned for his wrong doings. Grieved for them. Searched for ways to mend the damage he caused. That was because he wasn't one of the bad guys. He was a good guy who sometimes made bad mistakes.

She should've realized sooner, she supposed. He spent over three months reaching out to her through the walkie talkie, and not once had she given him a response. He was a stubborn bastard; she'd give him that.