Two lives.

23. Pray you catch me

May 22th
2:46 AM

A loud knock startled me awake. I blinked groggily, my eyes heavy and blurred, the glowing red digits of my clock reading 2:00 AM.

Who on earth is knocking at my door at this hour? For a moment, I lay there, hoping it was just part of a dream. But the sound felt too real, too sharp to be imaginary.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "Maybe it's nothing," I muttered to myself, hesitating as doubt crept in. But curiosity—or maybe something else—pushed me to my feet.

I shuffled to the door, my heart beating just a little faster in the eerie silence of the early morning. As I unlocked it and pulled it open, I froze.

Ekko.

He stood there, his hand halfway raised like he was about to knock again but had changed his mind. His face was shadowed in the dim hallway light, but I could tell he was surprised I'd answered so quickly.

"Ekko?" My voice came out softer than I intended, a mix of confusion and concern.

He blinked, his usual guarded expression faltering for a split second. "I didn't think you'd actually get up," he said, almost to himself, his voice low and raspy like he'd been walking for hours or yelling into the wind.

I tilted my head, taking in the disheveled hoodie he wore and the tension in his posture. "Why are you here? It's two in the morning."

For a moment, he looked away, his hand dropping to his side. "I... didn't know where else to go," he admitted, his words barely above a whisper. His eyes met mine again, and I could see the weight of whatever he was carrying reflected in them.

I stepped aside without another word, holding the door open wider. "Come in," I said, my tone more gentle now.

He hesitated for a moment, like he wasn't sure if he should, before finally stepping inside. I closed the door behind him, the click echoing in the stillness of the night.

I flicked the light switch, the sudden brightness stabbing into my eyes. I winced, shielding my face until they adjusted. When I looked back, Ekko stood in the middle of my room like he belonged there, but something about him was... off.

He wore his usual baggy jeans, Nike Dunks, and a plain t-shirt, but his arms were scratched up, raw lines crisscrossing his skin like he'd barreled straight through a bramble bush. Loose leaves stuck out of his dreads at odd angles, giving him a wild, unkempt appearance.

"Ekko," I said slowly, my voice thick with confusion and concern. "Are you okay?"

He froze for a beat, his eyes locking onto mine. They were wide, restless, darting ever so slightly like they couldn't quite settle. "Yeah," he replied, but there was something almost mechanical about his tone—flat, yet overconfident.

I raised an eyebrow, not buying it. "What happened to your arms?"

"I ran through a bush," he said simply, his face still blank, almost as if he were proud of it.

I blinked, waiting for some kind of explanation or context. Nothing. Just that same unflinching stare. "You what?" I asked, stepping closer.

"A bush," he repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "It was in the way, so I ran through it."

"Right..." I muttered, reaching for his arm. His skin was warm, almost feverish, as I inspected the angry red scratches. "I can tell."

Without thinking, I reached up with my free hand to pluck the stray leaves tangled in his dreads. He didn't flinch or move away, just stood there, perfectly still, watching me with an intensity that made my stomach tighten.