The Sixth | Ekko

Chapter Sixty-Six

Six had to force her eyes open, her lids heavy. When she moved her head, it was with great difficulty, her movements sluggish.

It took her vision a minute to clear itself of haze, and once it finally did, she realized she wasn't in her own bed.

The ceiling was made of metal, not stone, and she could feel the springs of the mattress instead of the solidity of a floor.

"...Momo?" Ekko's voice breathed out in exasperation.

She moved to look at him, but her neck was stiff, slowing the action. When she finally saw him, she realized she wasn't in Daunter's hideout at all.

She was in the alternate reality.

Ekko's hair had been styled into twists and tied back, while his attire was cleaner than his other self—white, long-sleeved inside shirt tucked underneath a dark green vest that was decorated with yellow threading and buttons, dark green pants to match. Despite how put together the outfit was supposed to be, the buttons of his vest remained undone, while his collar had gone lopsided.

When her eyes circled back to his face, she saw obvious signs of exhaustion.

Ekko had run to her bedside so quickly that he nearly took the chair he'd been sitting in with him, the flap of his boot catching on one of the legs.

He wrapped his arms around her while remaining mindful of her weakened state.

"W—What... what happened?" she asked, her throat dry and gritty. She felt like shoving him away, but this wasn't the Ekko from her reality.

This was another version of him.

A better one.

She hadn't visited her other self's body in a while, and she was starting to think something must've happened to her.

With how terribly she felt now that she was here, she assumed she must've been correct.

"You—you just collapsed—" he said, his voice fragile. Her hair caught between his lips, but he made no effort to remove it. "It's been weeks. You—you—" He stopped himself, wondering if he should reveal the more concerning details.

Six collected her hands into her lap and noticed just how pale and bony they'd become. Her skin was translucent, and she could easily see her own veins that ran underneath the flesh on her knuckles.

"How long was I...?"

"Three weeks... it's been three weeks."

She tried swallowing, but her mouth was too dry. She looked around the room, seeing that she wasn't in their bedroom, but somewhere else. Somewhere less homey. White and sterile.

It was then that she realized the faint smell of disinfectant lingering in the air.

They were in a hospital.

Her fingers twitched against the scratchy, pale blanket she was covered in. She spotted a bouquet of flowers on the small, squared table beside the bed.

"Do they know why...?"

His arms loosened around her, and his hands brushed against her neck before finding both of her cheeks. "No. But baby... you..."

His voice faded, her hearing growing muffled as pressure filled her head. She saw his lips mouth his next words before everything grew empty.

                                    

She sat up with a gasp, her blanket sliding off her chest to collect on her lap. Her gaping eyes traveled across the room, spotting her cluttered workbench glowing with the soft-blue light from the blister shrooms.