Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ekko knew the moment he stepped into the apartment that he wouldn’t know peace ever again. He felt this way the day they moved into their apartment, and he felt it now after hearing the door swing open and close loudly. He was having dinner in the kitchen, probably the only warm meal he had had after his 12-hour shift at the hospital. He planned on eating, showering, and then going to sleep into his day off tomorrow. The forceful rattling of the door, however, smothered any possibility of his plans coming to fruition. Wearily, he took a bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly and staring at the entrance to the small kitchen they shared, waiting. It didn’t take long before the quick tapping of her footsteps reached the entrance. Jinx stood there with the most devious, cryptic grin he had seen in a while. He took another bite of his sandwich, raising an eyebrow at her. She was basically buzzing while taking a seat in front of him, dropping a beige folder on the small table. 

“I have a surprise for you,” she said, violet eyes electric, staring directly into his.

He frowned. He didn’t know they were celebrating something, and the last time they surprised each other, she had already one-upped him with the noise-cancelling headphones that blessed his days when he had to complete paperwork.

“What?” He asked, taking another bite.

“We are going to be parents.”

The piece of sandwich decided to lodge itself in the middle of his throat after she said this, prompting him to cough forcefully, hitting his chest a few times. Tears appeared in his eyes as he finally swallowed, coughing as it went. 

“What?”

Before he was able to spiral on this information, Jinx’s smile widened.

“Yeah, we are picking her up in two weeks, too.”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah, I have the paperwork here,” she said, taking out some documents from the folder.

This is it, he thought. This is me having a manic episode. He dropped the last piece of the sandwich on his plate and sat back in his chair. It was a funny thought, really, considering that Jinx was the one diagnosed with bipolar, but then again, he was at the age where schizophrenia symptoms could be the answer. Maybe he had hallucinated Jinx’s words, and in reality, she was screaming at him for not showering first before eating. They were both very particular about their cleanliness, even if the apartment looked like the aftermath of a landmine exploding. Yeah, he probably hallucinated that. They weren’t even married. They actually started dating after moving into the apartment together. So it made no sense for Jinx to tell him they would be having a kid.

Also, they couldn’t be parents. Or could they? Maybe this hallucination was an omen for their future. They had talked about what would happen if they ended up having kids, especially since their childhoods were not the most conducive to happy memories. And they had fostered before. They did all the classes and completed all the requirements in the past to take in Scar’s daughter for a bit. So maybe this delusion wasn’t so far-fetched. Maybe instead of his heart beating out of his chest due to fear, it was out of… surprise, maybe? Excitement? But one discussion was not the whole decision. And what did she mean by in two weeks? What…?

“-ko; earth to Ekko? Hello?”

He hummed softly, grounding himself back to reality when he felt Jinx’s finger reach his own. He blinked once, twice, and then looked back at her. Her smile had faltered slightly, but it was still taunting, like asking for him to challenge her on this. And he could have. He was actually ready to do so, but then she tilted her head, grasping at the metal chain around her neck; she opened the latch and dropped the chain on the table next to Ekko’s plate. The chain was simple, almost too dull and ordinary if it wasn’t for the discoloredly bright ring it held. Oh, so he wasn’t hallucinating. This was real. 

During the beginning of their relationship, they found out quickly that they needed to find ways to communicate better than just holding screaming matches, ignoring each other for a few days, and then making up randomly. It was exhausting, and they cared too much for them to continue the toxic cycle. So they decided that, whenever there were important conversations to be had, they would take off the pieces of themselves they treasured the most and lay them out for the other person, both literally and figuratively. It was a silent display of vulnerability, stripping off something you hold dear and showing it freely for someone else to take. But it made the playing field even for them. Jinx usually took off her chain that held Silco’s ring, a present he had given her on the day she decided to change her life. Ekko either took off the ring Benzo left him before he moved to the city, or one of the hair charms he locked his dreadlocks in, the ones his mom had left for him before passing away. To them, it meant openness, a space to be honest and exposed without fear of judgment. 

Thus, Ekko took one of the charms off, placing it neatly beside the orange-ish ring on the table. Jinx nodded, pleased, and held out her hand. He took it without thinking, an action as simple as breathing to him. They stared at each other for a bit, settling, finding the right words. His heart was still hammering, but he knew it wasn’t something they couldn’t handle together. Jinx spoke first.

“Is it too much? I know I can be impulsive, but I…” she bit her lip, frowning. She didn’t show this type of hesitation often; Ekko had always been grateful to be one of the few people with whom she could be vulnerable. “I felt it, Ekko. The same way I did when I decided I’ve had enough of the life I used to have. The same way I did when I realized I love you. It just feels right.”

She held his gaze, anxiously waiting for him to respond. He sighed. 

“Take me to the beginning, because this is a lot,” he said, squeezing her hand gently. “I mean, I know we have, like, mentioned it before, but one thing is dreaming about it and another is actually going through with it.”

Her eyes narrowed, a quirk of her lips framing her otherwise hesitant expression.

“So you have been dreaming of having kids with me, huh? I don’t know, mister, we aren’t even married yet.”

“And yet here we are,” he countered, mimicking her smile, “talking about it because you jumped the gun. So, start from the beginning.”

Jinx sat back on her chair without releasing his hand. It felt a little bit more comfortable like this, with their casual banter. She shook her head, huffing quietly. 

“Okay, okay,” she said, swatting her other hand dismissively. “Remember when I had to go to the hospital to take measurements for the prosthetic prototypes?” Ekko nodded. “Well, it turns out it was in the pediatric ward. So I was there, doing my thing, and then I met her-” 

She cut herself off abruptly, suddenly staring at the table pensively. Ekko waited.

“She reminds me of me… of us, when we were younger,” she said then, voice as soft as a whisper. “She was talking to the social worker about something, and it’s not like I was eavesdropping or anything, the social worker was being too loud in my opinion, like… she shouldn’t be talking about private information just like that, out in the open, you know? So it’s not my fault that I-”

“Jinx,” Ekko said, squeezing her hand again, a little bit harder this time. She tended to spiral most of the time, and although he was more than comfortable sitting there and listening to her, there was an important conversation to be had.

“Right,” she shook her head. “Anyway, I overheard them talking about how her fostering situation fell through, and the social worker was trying to be all nice and sweet, but the kid didn’t even react. It was like looking in the mirror for a second, frown and all!”

Ekko chuckled, remembering the way Jinx, or at that time, Powder, would frown and glare after realizing it felt more menacing than screaming and crying. 

“After that, I went to do my job, because even if I do like gossip, I still had a job to do, and lo and behold, she was one of the people I was seeing! Like, not in a sense that she needed a prosthetic or anything, but she has a cochlear implant, and they wanted me to check that it looked okay and that everything was working because she doesn’t talk.”

“Wait,” Ekko interjected. “She doesn’t talk? What do you mean by that? Also, didn’t you say you heard their conversation?”

“Heard, saw, does it matter? The social worker was being very expressive to compensate for her mediocre sign skills.”

“Jinx!” He chastised, pushing her foot softly under the table. “That’s like, literally invading a private conversation, you know that!”

“Oh, save it, boy savior, you would have done the same thing in my shoes. You're a bigger gossip than I am. Anyways,” she started again, giving him a pointed look to shut him up, “I helped her, everything looked great, and they asked her some questions to make sure the device worked. She signed the whole time, though, which didn’t seem to make the social worker happy. But then the kid, uh, she stayed? Like, I was continuing to do my thing, and she just hung around. Just the same way we used to do when we were left with Benzo at his store. She never asked anything, but she looked, like really looked. After a while, I asked her if she wanted to pass me the tools, and we spent our time just going over measurements and the basics of certain medical devices. It was… fun. And she seemed to enjoy it too.”

She stopped here, looking at the table again. She was probably reminiscing. Ekko tries to picture it: a kid next to Jinx handing her measurement tools and writing down numbers, or pointing at some devices to learn what they did. He smiled. He could picture it, honestly, and maybe, just maybe, he could see why Jinx was so excited about it. But he was probably biased; he had dreamed about them having kids together. Granted, it looked a little bit different, but he was always good at adapting, especially when it came to Jinx’s whims. 

“After that,” Jinx continued, now looking at their intertwined fingers, “I spoke to the social worker. Just let her know that if she needed an adjustment or anything like that, she could just call me, you know? And then I mentioned I was also in foster care for a while, and I understand how hard it is. I’m telling you, this woman was eager to talk about it because she started talking about how sad it was that the fostering fell through and how she wishes there could be someone willing to take her, because she’s getting older, and her chances at adoption are getting smaller and smaller as time passes. So I asked,” she tilted her head and gave Ekko a look. “I asked about the process and how we could apply. One thing led to another, and Sevika got me a spot with the head of the children’s system of care, and she told me that, with our experience and our income, we would be good candidates.”

She let the words simmer, looking at Ekko’s every shift in expression. It made sense. He could see Jinx’s thought process as easily as he smiled at his patients every night shift. It was so distinctly her to be cautious and kind, to see someone who needed help and ask how she could do so. She didn’t believe it, but Ekko saw her for who she was, for her big heart and her dedication to others. She might call him boy savior, but she had helped a lot of people, too; she just never admitted it. He could also feel the situation pulling at his heartstrings, the same way it did when they had to foster Scar’s daughter as an emergency. He knew the importance of stability and safety; he was part of the foster care system himself. But logistically-wise…

“I hear you,” he said, smiling at her. She was right; he would have probably done the same thing. “I agree that this would be a good call, especially since she now has to deal with the fostering not happening.”

“But?” Jinx sighed, leveling him with a look.

“But,” he emphasized. “What are we going to do with the spending? Raising a kid requires a lot of money, and though we have good jobs, it’s not like we can splurge. And then, I work night shifts at the hospital while your schedule changes randomly. She will need stability, and our schedules don’t provide that. Then there’s school, and her medical records, and what happens if we are not the right fit?”

The last part caught him by surprise because it was not something he was intending to discuss. It was not just the logistics of taking care of the kid, but also the whole idea of being a parent figure to her. It was different with Scar’s daughter; she was a newborn, and they had the time to dedicate to her. They were both in school at the time. But now it meant taking care of a kid who had her own thoughts and perceptions. Ekko worked with kids in the psychiatric ward already, and he knew how delicate conversations can be for children with trauma. It took a lot of patience, understanding, and commitment to help and guide them. And though he liked to think he was good at his job, it didn’t translate to his real life. Would he be a good parent? Would he be able to help this kid through her issues while making sure she did her homework? It was too much to think about, too overwhelming. Jinx squeezed his hand, giving him a knowing smile. 

“Do you think this is how Benzo and Vander felt when they decided to adopt us?” She asked, tenderness in her voice. He huffed a small chuckle. Probably. “I understand the feeling, Ekko, but doesn’t she deserve the opportunity the same way we did at the time?”

He sighed, nodding faintly. 

“And, as always, you are right to ask all of those questions; I wouldn’t have expected any less from you, so I’m prepared!” She said, excitement back in her features. 

She pulled her hand away and opened the beige folder in front of her, taking out some papers and documents. She dispersed them on the table while she talked.

“When it comes to money, as you mentioned, we both have good jobs, and we are pretty good at making it work for us. However, there is this!” 

She shoved a paper at his face, startling him. He took it, brows furrowed as he inspected the words. It looked like a screenshot of an email, so he had to process that first, but then he caught on to it. Heimerdinger’s email in the sender’s section, the words Congratulations! on the topic line, the words confirming a new raise and project, and details listed in neat bullet points. His eyes widened.

“You got it?” He exclaimed, looking up from the paper. Her smile was as bright as the sun. 

“Hell yeah, baby! I got the project! And,” she singsonged, “it comes with a raise, so I think money is covered alongside the allowance from the court. The project also gives me a more set schedule, so I will be able to move things around if she needs to go to the doctor’s or they need me at the school. Hell, we can even skip some days and go to-”

“Jinx,” he narrowed his eyes at her; she shrugged innocently. 

“What? It’s not like we didn’t enjoy taking a day off from school now and then.”

“Yeah, but we were cutting school without telling anyone. You can’t just take a kid out to, I don’t know, spend the day at the pool or something.”

“God, you’re so good at that! I hadn’t even thought about a pool day!”

“Jinx.”

“Fine,” she groaned, but her smile was untouched. “Moving on, I can schedule my things around if needed. And also, you have been talking about how much you want to switch to the day shift after Seraphine’s leave, mister. Maybe this is the push you needed to make that change. Then that way we can do things in the afternoon like regular families do.”

He groaned lightly, rubbing his face. She was right; he had been getting burned out, and before taking her leave, Seraphine told him he could take her spot. It would be a bit hard to readjust, but it’s not something he hasn’t done before. It would be nice to feel like a normal person again instead of a vampire reclusing himself in the morning. His patients will still be there. And it’s not like he would be changing positions; he would still be a psych nurse. 

“Alright,” he conceded. “What else do you have?”

She smirked.

“As I told you, Sevika got me a spot with the head of CPS, and she told me the social worker would work with us to find schools, get possession of her medical records, and all the boring stuff. She gave me some forms we need to fill out. She also told me we might need to redo parenting classes because it’s been a while since we fostered. Did you know they used to date?”

This came out of left field.

“Who? Sevika and the social worker?”

“No, dummy! Sevika and Margot! She is the head of CPS.”

“Wha-? What are we even talking about?” Ekko asked, rubbing his face again. The fatigue and exhaustion from his shift caught up to him suddenly.

“We are talking about fostering, Ekko, keep up!”

He took a deep breath, looking at Jinx humorlessly. She tried to be serious for a second, but she still burst out laughing. He looked over the forms while she gasped for air, clutching her stomach and trying to breathe. These were forms they had seen before, so nothing new. Some of them were updated, though, so he would have to take a look at them properly at a better time. There was also a flyer for morning and evening parenting classes with the cost and the schedules. Coincidentally, they started next week and went for two weeks. Sneaky idiot, Ekko thought. It would take some time before he could start the morning shift, so he might have to sacrifice some hours of sleep, but it seemed doable. Maybe it would be right, after all. 

Jinx was finally breathing normally aside from her fit of giggles. While looking over the papers, Ekko found a file with a picture of a kid. She was eight years old, according to the file; family members were unknown, she had been in the system for almost two years, and was hard of hearing, although there was a note about her selective mutism. He ran a thumb through the edge of the page. She looked so young and so tired. She wasn’t smiling in her picture. Her hair was a mess of brown strands under a bucket hat that looked like a miner's hat. Her eyes were impossibly big, a warmth to their amber color that was missing in her demeanor. He saw it too, the resemblance she had to Powder. He can understand why Jinx was so keen about this. His eyes focused on the name on the file. Isha. 

Truth be told, maybe he was also into impulsiveness and unpredictability. He was just more cautious with how he went about it. 

“So, what do you think?” Jinx asked, linking their fingers again. 

It took him a little bit to complete reading the file, even if there was not a lot of information to go by. He looked back at the picture and gave a tentative smile. 

“Yeah,” his eyes found Jinx’s. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

She squealed and jumped off her seat, running and crashing into Ekko’s chair. He caught her while balancing the chair. She squeezed him tightly, locking her arms around his neck. Once he felt stable enough, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“We are really doing this,” she said, no doubt or fear in her voice. She smiled.

“We really are,” he answered, smiling back. 

She laughed again and dropped down to kiss him, a tender touch that assuaged the anxiety and nervousness in the pit of his stomach. There were a lot of moving pieces to this, and he did not feel confident at all, but just as Jinx mentioned, it felt right. He kissed her back just as tenderly, cupping her cheek. She smiled against his lips before pushing further, deeply, a promise that it was not just him, but the two of them in it together. And he pushed back, a confirmation that, regardless of what happened, of where they ended up, that it would be the two of them, now and always.

She pulled back after a while, lips a beautiful shade of pink, cheeks scattered with freckles, and a blush. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his life.

“You'd better dust up those sign language skills, pretty boy.”

☆★☆★☆★☆★

Even after going through the logistics of finances, forms, and parenting classes, there was a sense of impending pressure hanging above them. Ekko had requested his switch to the morning shift, which would take effect the week after the foster process was completed. He would work the night shift, come back home, eat, shower, take a nap, and then get up again to go to parenting classes. They received curious looks now and then from the other families, either for their age or for how out of place they looked. It wasn’t a big deal, though. They were used to standing out wherever they went. 

The parenting classes or the endless forms were not the problem, however. It was something that snuck up on them, really. It started when they sat in the living room, drawing a rough layout of the apartment. They had two rooms in the apartment, which made it such a crammed space. They usually used the spare room for guests or an office when Jinx could work from home. With this, they decided to turn it into Isha’s bedroom. That meant buying a new comforter and some more pillows. It’s not like they had a lot of information about her preferences, but she looked like she liked plushies, so a trip to the mall ended up being three trips up the stairs of the apartment building. Fortunately, they lived on the second floor. They got Isha her own plate, her own cup, her own mug, her own apron, and some other things she would need. 

They were in constant communication with the social worker regarding school and other stuff. The medical records and other legalities would come later, but they started asking for school visits and researching online their reviews. Because of her hard-of-hearing condition, they went over the pros and cons of public school. It’s not like they had a great experience in school, so they wanted to be as objective as possible. Ekko asked the other nurses about their children’s experiences in school and what they recommended. They also looked into extracurriculars she might be interested in; the social worker said Isha was really good at math and was obsessed with bugs. They might have run with that too much because now all of her bedroom bedding, toothbrush, and bath supplies were bug-related. They hoped it was the right bugs. By the end of the week, the social worker had visited their apartment, had them sign some more forms, and had given them a tentative time to pick Isha up.

It was during that weekend that the pressure finally broke, engulfing them in a sea of uncertainty, apprehension, and overall fear. It came to a head when they were finishing Isha’s room. They were building her dresser and bedside table, working silently together while the speaker blasted some sort of pop rock. Ekko had had a particularly rough shift and wasn’t able to rest before parenting classes. Jinx was struggling with adjusting to her new schedule and the bureaucracy that came with the new project. She always did better in an environment she could control. And she always did better when she didn’t have to talk to stupid people (her words). The project was in coordination with a medical devices organization, so they had to abide by their timelines and deadlines, which took control away from Jinx, and the main representative they worked with, Sky, was too nice, too proper, too sweet, too condescending, which pissed her off; nothing like her team (again, her words). Granted, the only person in her team with a grain of social skills was Jayce, and even then, that was high praise. 

None of them was having a good time. The lack of sleep, of control, of certainty was drowning them to the point where they wouldn’t even speak to each other before getting into a screaming match. It didn’t help that they were both stubborn as hell too.

“I told you already, you are doing it wrong,” Jinx groaned, rubbing her face and pushing the loose strands of hair away from her face. She held the manual, swatting Ekko’s hand away when he tried to look at the pictures. “No, that’s not the right side, dumbass!”

“Well, I would know if I could see the pictures, you control freak.”

“And have what happened to the bathroom dresser happen again? Remember that I had to take it apart and reassemble it because you couldn’t distinguish left from right?”

“Jesus Christ, Jinx, that was one time!”

“One time? Look at you, you can’t even-”

Before she could continue, her ringtone startled them both, bringing them to the present. She dropped the manual on the floor with a loud splat! She picked up the phone without looking at it, glaring at the floor as she crossed one arm above her chest while the other held the phone to her ear. 

“What?” She asked the person on the other side, her frown deep enough to split her face in two. Ekko rolled his eyes, taking the manual off the floor and checking that he was, in fact, on the wrong side. 

“Oh, uh, sorry, I forgot we had our phone call, let me just-” Jinx looked around the room, lost for a second; she turned once to the right and then to the left, looked at Ekko with alarmed eyes, and then left the room. 

He didn’t know what that was about, but he was more in favor of fixing his mistake before she came back. If he was lucky enough, he would act like he had done it right the first time and never admit blame. While Jinx talked on the phone, he was able to complete more than half of the steps for the bedside table before she came back, mulling her lip over her teeth. She looked frustrated and uneasy, which made him drop the screwdriver and place all of his attention on her. Her words were quick, almost inaudible. Whoever was on the other side of the phone was giving her a hard time with the way Jinx glared at the floor while she talked.

“-like, no, what? Why do I need a reason? I just have things to do!” Her eyes narrow, the garbled noise of the other person coming off on this side as well. It was probably Vi. Jinx only got like that when Vi was teasing her about something. “Oh, you wanna know that bad? I’m about to peg the fuck out of Ekko, okay? Can I finally hang up?”

His cheeks did not flush, nor did his eyebrows raise in thrill. That was probably somebody else.

Jinx hung up and threw her phone on the bed, groaning loudly as she sat at the edge. She dropped her head on her hands, her groan becoming louder. Ah. It probably was all a ploy to get Vi off the phone. Bummer. He moved the tools away in favor of sitting next to Jinx at the edge of the bed. He was tired; his muscles were sore, and he had eye bags from the lack of sleep. He was also exhausted from the emotional toll this whole process was taking on them. He bumped his shoulder against hers.

“So I’m guessing we’re doing none of that and instead talking about this?”

Jinx shook her head, taking a deep breath. 

“I just needed to get Vi off the phone.”

“Any reason in particular?”

There was a pause for a second. Jinx rubbed her hands over her face and leaned into Ekko’s shoulder; her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. He leaned his temple on top of the crown of her head. 

“I haven’t told her about Isha,” Jinx started, voice low. He could feel the exhaustion and tension on her shoulders. “I haven’t told anyone aside from my boss, and that little rodent is such a busybody, I wouldn’t be surprised that Viktor and Jayce already know. But I…” she moved her head, trying to look up at Ekko. “I want to make sure it actually comes true. I want to make sure everything is set up before I tell anybody else.”

Ekko nodded gently, pulling away to move a strand of her hair out of her face.

“You always try to carry everything by yourself,” he admonished, not necessarily angry; he said it like it was a fact of life, regardless of how much it affected her. “But you’re not doing this by yourself, remember? You have me. You don’t have to carry everything alone anymore.”

“But what if I’m not good enough?” She continued, shaking her head slightly. “What if I mess her up even more? What if this was the wrong decision?”

It was something Ekko thought about daily. He had spoken with his therapist about it, about the constant fear that he would do more harm than good, about the weight he felt at the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about having to reprimand the girl if she did something dangerous; about how it would define him, how it could challenge him, and how it would change him. He understood the fear. He placed a hand on her cheek. Her eyes were glassy, an ardor behind them that showed how angry she was at herself for feeling this way. She tended to give herself the most crap, unfortunately. 

“Remember how we felt when we finally found Vander and Benzo? How we hoped and prayed for them to be good people? I remember I was delighted when Benzo allowed me to take some of his clocks to fix and play with. He was the first person to see my potential and the first one to encourage me to be who I wanted to be. Who else will we be if not the shadows of those who came before us?”

She let out a breath he didn’t know she was holding, scoffing slightly.

“Can you stop being philosophical for a second? I am freaking out right now.”

“And so am I,” he exclaimed, giving her a reassuring smile. “I am terrified, Jinx. I don’t know if I will be good for her, or if I will be able to help her. But I have decided to try. I want to do my best, even if she ends up leaving us in a few months. That must count for something, right?”

She examined his face, the honesty and vulnerability in it. She didn’t seem to find the bad, the ugly, or the negativity she craved as her normal when she felt this way. He was right. It was terrifying, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t try. She wanted to try her best, too. She wanted to give this kid the life she deserved, a life of bliss, joy, and peace. She knew she didn’t regret her decision. But she didn’t want to mess it up for the kid. She knew that, potentially, if anybody was going to screw it up, it would be her. So would it be too selfish of her to try? To want to do this regardless?

“Promise me,” she started, leaning into Ekko’s touch and placing her palm atop his hand. “Promise me that we will do this together, that we will be there for each other, and that every step we take, it will be a mutual decision.”

His smile grew. 

“Of course,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Always, my love.”

She leaned up, then, pressing her lips softly against his. It wasn’t like all of her fears had disappeared, but there was a sense of calmness that came from Ekko’s reassurance. She pulled back, pressing her forehead against his. 

“I love you,” she whispered, smile reflecting his. 

“I love you too,” he whispered back, bumping noses together. 

“So, are you ready to go get our girl?”

Chapter Text

If you had asked Isha, it all started the same way it always did: with the social worker being excited about a new prospective foster family. After the third time the fostering plans fell through, Isha had stopped wishing, dreaming, or even considering the idea that she would find a family soon. She was fine with sharing a room with six other girls, sharing a bathroom with a whole floor of kids, and not having anything she could call her own. It was not terrible. She got fed, she could attend school with the other kids, she had downtime in the afternoons, and if she pressed hard enough, they would take her to the local museum and let her examine the terrariums and bug collections. She was sure the staff at the museum knew her by name at this point, something close to having a personal win. The staff at the foster home had gotten really tight with where they allowed kids to go after one of the kids escaped, though, so it’s been three months since she visited the museum. The kid even left her favorite plush toy, which seemed weird to Isha. If she ever had something to call her own, she would treasure it as much as she could.

To say she was bored out of her mind was an understatement. The days were starting to blend as the date for her foster parents to come get her got closer. Again, Isha didn’t see all the excitement about getting fostered anyway. She would stay with the family for a few months and then return. She was tired of believing that she was going to a family that might adopt her. At the end of the day, it was not bad. As long as she didn’t need to go back to work under Mr. Smeech, she would be fine. 

So yeah, her prospects of getting fostered were not great, the prospects of adoption abysmal, and she was pretty sure her mom had died at some point when she was a baby. That seemed to be a problem when she got to the foster home. She didn’t have immediate family that could take care of her, and when they asked if she wanted to go back to Mr. Smeech, she had the worst meltdown she had ever had up to that point. She didn’t remember much of her childhood, but she did remember living in a cramped room with other children, forced to do petty labor, steal from people in the slums, and getting physically punished if they did not meet their quota. It was all blurry, but the fear and terror were real in Isha’s heart. She hated that place, the dullness and darkness of the skid roads of Zaun. She had no real love for the place she was forced to call home, and sometimes she wondered if that meant she would never have real love for whatever home she was placed into next. The insults, negative comments, or even abuse from her previous foster families were nothing compared to the pain and horror she experienced at Mr. Smeech’s house. Isha would rather never talk again in favor of living a peaceful life. She learned early on that talking only led to bad things, and she was tired of those. 

That didn’t mean everyone else agreed, though. The social worker was always trying to get Isha to talk to her, going as far as to intentionally sign wrongly to force a reaction from her. Isha never bit into it. She was fine with others not understanding, as long as she could live quietly, she wouldn’t try for anything else. It was a bit annoying when it came to making friends or communicating in general, but she was good at using tablets or notepads. She wasn’t much of a talker anyway. She relished observing, learning from others, and trying to predict their next actions. It was like watching dung beetles pushing balls of dung. They probably looked stupid to normal people, but Isha knew that each step was a coordination between front leg alterations and protraction of the middle and hind legs. It was an intricate maneuver that ensured the beetle’s protection and sustenance. Every action people took was for their own protection and sustenance. Isha had learned that the hard way. 

She wished she could be at the museum right now, watching dung beetles move around in their terrarium rather than having to pack her things. She didn’t have a lot of things, but she shared a dresser with two other girls, so she needed to make sure she was taking only her things. Everyone else was outside, either playing or doing their homework. Isha had completed all of her math homework and her worksheet on the solar system. The book she was supposed to report on next week was forgotten at the end of her bag, the bookmark still lodged in the first page. That was a problem for future Isha. 

She ran her arm across her forehead, trying to remove the excess sweat with the sleeve of her shirt. Looking over her trash bag, then back at the dresser as a last inspection, she nodded; hopefully, this new family would be kind enough to take her shopping. It’s not like she expected it, but it would be nice. She had been meaning to get some new shoes; her current boots started feeling a little tight, and her feet hurt at night. She closed the black trash bag as best as she could, threw her backpack on her shoulder, adjusted her bucket hat, and made her way downstairs. She wobbled around for a bit, pulling the trash bag with her belongings to the front office. She looked at the clock; there were still 20 more minutes before the new foster family showed up (if they showed up). The social worker had done her best to convince Isha that this was it, today was the day, that she would finally have her happily ever after. But all Isha could think about was all the failed attempts, the parents who looked at her either with pity or hatred, the parents who were dismissive and only wanted the money they got for fostering, the kids who made fun of her for not talking, or just for not having parents. All she could think about was how much she hated the fact that she didn’t have a real family, and yet all she could do was hope.

Even after all the previous disappointments, Isha still dared to wonder. She wondered what kind of mom she would get; she wondered if her soon-to-be mom was like the books Isha had read in class, where the mom was soft, kind, and warm. She wondered if she would be open to baking a cake for Isha’s birthday. It was still a few months away, but Isha had always wanted to celebrate her birthday like in the movies, with cake and balloons; maybe a clown if her foster parents were kind enough. She wondered if her foster mom would tuck her in and read her stories from the books she was mandated to read for class. Isha couldn’t help but picture her in a flowy dress, hair spilling down her shoulders, and a warm smile on her face. She also wondered if her soon-to-be-dad was stern or strict, but still caring, like in the movies. She wondered if he would be willing to show her how to repair stuff or build stuff with her hands. She had expressed interest early on, but the people at the foster home said those things were not appropriate for a girl. She wondered if her foster dad would say the same. She hoped he wasn’t mean or like the men in Mr. Smeech’s house, who would make fun of her and ridicule her when she was punished. She was getting too old to be biting others. More than anything, she wondered what kind of house she was going to this time. She wondered if there were other kids she would have to share her room and bathroom with, if there was a porch or a backyard to explore for bugs. She hoped it wasn’t too cramped like in Mr. Smeech’s house, and that it wasn’t as dark as the slums in the Undercity. 

Against all rationality, Isha had to admit she was a little bit excited. She always chastised herself for this. Excitement always led to disappointment, she knew this! It wasn’t like she had been proven wrong before, so she questioned why she felt a sense of giddiness in her chest. Something felt different this time, for some reason. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but there was a conviction brewing in her mind that this time things would change for the better. She sighed, sitting in the chair across the main office, swinging her legs while wriggling her hands together. Staff came and went, not even looking at Isha. Some kids ogled at her when they walked back from their extracurriculars, but none of them said anything directly to her. Nobody ever really did. 

The clock reached five in the afternoon, and Isha’s nerves reached their peak at the same time. The social worker joined her five minutes later, a bunch of papers in her hand. Isha’s gaze fixated on the entrance gate, her heart beating so fast that she thought she was going to pass out. After ten minutes, the beating turned to pain in her chest. She thought to herself how stupid she was for waiting, hoping that this time it would be different. She was dumb enough to forget how these things went. In another five minutes, the social worker would call them, confirm they were not coming, and send Isha back upstairs. She was sure of it. The pain in her chest expanded to her throat. She wasn’t one to cry in front of others, but she was really mad. She didn’t really know why; this wasn’t a new feeling or a new experience; nevertheless, she had to hold the tears at bay, gulping forcefully. She held her hands together to stop the shaking from being apparent. All she had to do was wait. In a few minutes, she would be back upstairs, able to lock herself in one of the bathroom stalls to silently cry as she usually did. 

Isha was so enraged, so out of it, that she did not hear the metal clatter of the gate, the rusty pull of its hinges, or the quiet cursing that came from how loud it closed. She did not register the steps or the figures that met with the social worker, the noise of pages rustling, of writing, of awkward tapping of hands. She was so absorbed in her own sorrow, in her own misery, that it took a finger on her forehead for her to snap out of her thoughts. Her mind goes blank, eyes widened with surprise and confusion. She had wondered and wondered, but she would have never expected to see the blue-haired girl she had met at the hospital three weeks ago for her check-up. She also didn’t expect a boy who looked at her like he could uncover everything about her with a single glance. She looked at them with all the skepticism in the world, a shield she had created for herself to protect herself, and they looked back with a grin, like they were accepting her challenge. 

“You good, kid?”

The blue-haired girl not only asked out loud, but signed too. Isha’s eyes widened even more. The girl was crouching in front of her, blue hair neatly tied into two long braids, charms decorating strands in her braids. Her eyes were big, purple pits that could consume Isha if she stared long enough. She had a quirk to her lips that looked like trouble all around. She looked the same way she did when they met at the hospital, bangs framing her face, eyebrows cocked like she had dared you to do the funniest you could ever think of. And yet her expression was so open that Isha couldn’t help but let the tears fall down her cheeks.

“Oh God, what did I do?” The girl said, removing her finger from Isha’s forehead. She went to cover her face, but before she could, there were hands on her face, wiping the tears away from her eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the boy said. His hands were warm, gentle, aside from the rings he wore on his fingers. He smiled hesitantly at her, almost as if he was as anxious as Isha was. “It’s alright. We’re sorry if we scared you. Jinx just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Isha looked at him before shifting her gaze to the girl, Jinx. She nodded at Isha, biting her lip intently. Isha sniffled, pushing away the hands on her face and rubbing her eyes with the back of her shirt’s sleeve. 

“Everything good, darling?” The social worker asked, looking at her, preoccupied. Isha nodded slightly, which didn’t seem to calm her worry one bit. “Alright, well, let me introduce you to your new foster parents. These are Jinx and Ekko; you will be going home with them today.”

“Yes,” the boy, Ekko, said, running a hand through his white hair. “Sorry we were late. I got stuck at the hospital, and traffic was a nightmare.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” The social worker said as if Isha wasn’t about to have a massive breakdown just now. “Anyway, everything has been signed, and Isha is ready to go, so I will give you a call to come by and check that everything is going well.”

They exchanged some pleasantries before Jinx directed her attention to Isha. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” she said, playing with the hem of her hoodie. She looked nothing like what she had pictured. “I thought that maybe distracting you would help with the faces you were pulling.”

Isha frowned, tilting her head. Her confusion must have been apparent, because Jinx smiled slightly. She signed, angry. Isha stared at Jinx directly, eyebrows rising. Usually, her foster parents were more preoccupied with making a good first impression on the social worker; they never paid attention to Isha until after they were away from the foster home. Jinx, however, looked like she wanted to know, like it mattered to her if Isha liked her or not, if she was angry, or sad, or whatever it was she was feeling. Isha shrugged laxly, picking up her trash bag and getting down from the chair. Jinx looked at her intently, but didn’t say anything else. 

Making their way to the main entrance, Ekko seamlessly took her trash bag, and Jinx pulled her backpack off Isha’s shoulders like she had done it a million times. She stared at them with surprise as they made their way to the black Honda Civic parked next to the entrance. 

“So,” Ekko started, “as your social worker said, I’m Ekko, that’s Jinx,” he pointed at Jinx, who gave her a short salute. “I know this is probably super weird for you, but if you have any questions, just ask away.”

Ekko popped open the trunk of the car, placing the bag next to a couple of trinkets that had seen better days. Jinx was about to put the backpack next to the bag, but Isha reached for it before they could put it inside. Rather than glaring at her or correcting her, Jinx pulled the backpack and gave it back to her, a smile on her face. Just a quick pivot that left Isha with a warmth on her chest she hadn’t experienced with other foster families before. 

“Oh, by the way,” Jinx said, opening the door to the back seats of the car for Isha, “we do know sign language, we are just a little rusty, so please correct us when you can. Don’t hold back, kid!”

Ekko scoffed, waiting next to the hood of the car. 

“Yeah, it was useful in foster care, but we don’t use it regularly anymore, so definitely call us out on it,” he said, moving to the passenger’s seat once Isha was inside the car with her seatbelt on. This took Isha by surprise; maybe she didn’t understand it well, but did he just say in foster care…?

“Yup. I am better at it than Ekko is, though. His lucky ass got adopted at six, can you believe it?” Jinx said in answer to Isha’s unspoken thoughts after climbing into the driver’s seat. Isha stared at the two of them.

“Jeez, I’m sorry my parents died when I was young, Jinx. Way to make me feel weird about it.”

“No matter,” Jinx retorted, waving her hand dismissively, putting her own seatbelt on. “It all worked out in the end. Which reminds me,” she turned her body fully so that she could look back at Isha properly, eyes a spark of violet in a sea of blue. “This is probably still very weird to you, so I guess we owe you a proper introduction.”

Isha tilted her head a bit, waiting for the girl to continue. It was very weird, honestly. No other adult had spoken so openly to Isha before; they all just tiptoed around her and treated her like a freak (at least that’s what it felt like). She had never met adults who were also in foster care, or who were adopted; then again, she had never met adults who looked very different from what she thought adults should look like.

“You kinda know me already. I’m Jinx, the engineer you met at the hospital the other day. You’re probably wondering why I, uh, we are here, but, uhm…” Jinx trailed off, brows furrowing. Ekko silently laced his hand on hers, pulling her fingers away from pulling at the skin in it. This seemed to calm her down, her brows no longer tight. “I have been in your situation before,” Jinx continued. “I know it’s not easy, and it’s uncomfortable, and unpleasant, but I wanted to make sure I could help, you know? As someone who has been there.”

Isha’s eyes were analyzing, looking for any crack in what was possibly the most elaborate facade. If it was all just a ploy to get Isha to lower her guard, it was curiously working. She was very good at fishing the true personality of her foster families, though; they despised when she didn’t outwardly answer or engage in the conversation. So she just gawked with eyebrows raised, trying to stay as unreadable and immutable as possible. 

“Anyway!” Jinx exclaimed, seemingly relieved to change the topic while pulling out of the parking space. She didn’t seem put off by Isha’s lack of answering. “This is my boyfriend, Ekko; he has the kindest heart to the point where everyone takes advantage of his goodwill, so go easy on him. He has a bit of a savior complex, so you can flick his forehead if he gets too annoying.”

“Way to oversell it, Jinx,” Ekko countered, narrowing his eyes, but he did not contradict her. 

Interesting. Isha thought all foster parents had to be married. She furrows her brow a bit, a pensive look on her face. Her visions and hopes of the family she expected blurred more and more as she got to meet her new foster parents. 

“He makes the best hot cakes, though, so we will keep him around (“I have so much more to offer-” Ekko tried to argue, but he was cut off). As for me, as you know, I work building and fixing stuff, mainly medical devices like the one in your ear.” Isha did remember how careful Jinx had been when handling her implant, or how matter-of-fact she was about fine-tuning it. “I usually work from home, so I’ll be the one picking you up and dropping you off most of the time. If you ever need anything, you can have whoever you are with give me a call, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

They hit a red light, which provided a lull in the conversation. Ekko turned on the radio, not too loud, but loud enough for Isha to hear. He stared out the window. Jinx tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, mouthing the words to whatever song was playing; it was something thunderous and quick. Isha didn’t dislike it. Suddenly, Ekko turned back, a tentative smile on his face. He was trying very hard to be open with Isha; she could see that, but there was still a tinge of nervousness in his expression. 

“So, tell me, Isha, what are some of your favorites?”

Isha waited for him to clarify, but his smile only grew, encouraging her to either ask a question or answer. Sneaky. She stared him down, eyes unwavering. 

“We know that you like math and bugs,” Jinx said, listing the things with her fingers. Ekko had his fist closed tight, moving it up and down, agreeing with Jinx. “We might actually have gone overboard with the bug thing, so if you want, we can go back to the mall to get you new bedsheets and other stuff. No hard feelings!”

The honesty and openness of this confession were what cracked Isha’s shield. Normally, foster parents would wait until they got their first paycheck to go buy stuff for Isha, or take the money and just give her old bedding. Normally, they didn’t talk about themselves aside from bragging or goading about how lucky Isha must have felt being able to live with them. Normally, they didn’t see her as part of their family unit, but as a stranger who just happened to be there with them. She tried not to acknowledge the slight shake to her hands when she signed.

Bugs are good.

This impossibly widened Ekko’s smile, prompting Jinx to look at the rearview mirror. Isha signed again for her, eliciting a loud cackle from her. 

“No take-backsies then, kiddo. You’ve laid your bed.”

Ekko pushed Jinx’s shoulder gently, giving her a stern look.

“What she means,” Ekko amended, “is that she’s thankful that we got it right. Would’ve been a shame if we got it wrong.”

It was curious, really, the way she could have a conversation with these two without feeling out of place or that they were being condescending. Isha nodded. 

“Alrighty, it is after five, so we can finally get some junk food. What are we feeling?” Jinx asked, emphasizing the fact that they were finally allowed junk food, as if she were not an adult who could do what she wanted. “I pitch Jericho’s!”

Ekko hummed softly, still turned to be able to face Jinx and Isha at the same time. 

“I pitch burgers. It’s been a while since we had some. Jericho’s is seafood, by the way,” he explained, in case Isha was not aware. 

She wasn’t. The foster home was not keen on taking them out to eat, like, ever. Isha pondered this. It’s not like she had never thought about this before, but being put on the spot was not helping. She didn’t get to decide things often. She was more used to just following instructions and keeping quiet, which she was good at. But having the possibility of choosing? The options were endless. But she’s not falling for it completely, yet. She was curious how long it would take her new foster parents to turn into the regular foster parents she was used to. So she decided to be a little cocky with her choice. 

Ice cream, she signed, a quirk in her lips. Ekko and Jinx stared at each other for a moment, a devious smile appearing on their faces. 

“Oh, kid, you'd better get ready,” Jinx said, wickedness marking her expression.

☆★☆★☆★☆★

Asking Isha to get ready was an understatement. The joint where Jinx parked the car looked as if a carnival had puked on a restaurant. It was way too colorful, even to Isha’s liking. Not only was the place intense, to say the least, but the food was extreme as well. She had the crispiest chicken tenders she’s ever had, the garlickiest fries she’s ever tasted, and the biggest chocolate sundae she had ever seen. By the time she was done, she felt like she wouldn’t need to eat for the rest of the week. It was honestly one of the best meals she had had in a while. She might be biased, though. Most of her experiences with new foster families were lackluster and quick. Jinx and Ekko were nothing like that. They joked with each other and allowed Isha to choose what she wanted, regardless of the cost or size. 

Because Isha was still wary of speaking, they eased the conversation and did not push her to share anything she didn’t want to. She learned that Jinx worked with medical devices and had started a new project that helps people in need of prosthetics. She said she had always known she wanted to do something with her hands ever since she was little. Ekko chimed in, telling Isha about all the different trinkets and failed prototypes that often exploded in glitter when they were in the foster home and, later, in their adoptive homes. This surprised Isha. They weren’t given a lot of things at the foster group home, let alone anything as dangerous as glitter. They despised glitter. Apparently, Ekko also dabbled a little bit in building stuff, but he was more into helping others. Jinx called him a boy savior for some reason, like an inside joke they had. He told Isha he currently worked as a nurse in a pediatric psychiatric ward (Isha learned a new word that day). He explained he helped kids who had a rough time mentally or emotionally; he told her that if there was ever something bothering her and she didn’t want to talk about it with an adult, they could come up with a way to communicate without any pressure. He sounded like the doctor she met with now and then, who asked her about her feelings, her mom, and her past. She crinkled her nose at that, earning a laugh from Jinx. She seemed to dislike doctors, too. By the time they finished their sundaes, Isha knew that Jinx would be the one driving her around while Ekko adjusted to a new schedule that started next week. She had their phone numbers written neatly on a piece of paper inside her backpack. 

“Do you want to take that home?” Jinx asked, pointing at the remnants of Isha’s chocolate sundae. It was now a slop of melted vanilla ice cream mixed with chocolate sauce. Isha looked at Jinx for a few seconds. She had started feeling a little bit more at ease after eating, so she nodded lightly. “Perfect!”

She stabbed at the sponge cake on her cherry sundae, bringing a piece to her mouth. Ekko, on the other hand, dug into the glass cup, a mess of orange sherbet and mint. The color was not pleasant, but he seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.

“So,” Ekko started, cleaning his mouth with a napkin and giving Isha a tentative smile. “We talked with your social worker and were able to keep you in school, so that won’t be much of a problem. You have the weekend to get settled, but I know it’s hard to adjust to a big change like this, so if you want to stay home on Monday, just let Jinx or me know.”

There it was again. Not pressuring, no coercion, but instead, choice. They never asked her to make a choice outright, instead letting her wonder or think about it as long as she needed. They were giving her time, time she was never afforded before, something she had no experience with. It was confusing, and for some reason, it made her mad. She was used to other people making choices for her or forcing her to choose the option they wanted her to choose. She felt a warmth in her chest every time they let her choose, but it added to a weight at the pit of her stomach. 

Isha shrugged, not looking at them. Jinx stared at her for a bit too long, making Isha scowl a bit. She dipped her chin into her chest slightly. She liked observing, but she didn’t like people looking back at her. 

Luckily, they did not ask her any more questions, opting to get the check and put her melted sundae in a container, writing her name with a smiley face. They walked out to the car, a few droplets of rain starting to pour. Ekko took his jacket off, placing it on Isha’s shoulders and making a run for the back door, letting Isha get inside. Jinx then gave him the keys and got into the passenger’s seat. By the time Ekko got into the driver’s seat, it was raining steadily. The sun was gone at this point, streetlights dripping light into the road and blurring in the pouring rain. 

It took a bit for Isha to notice the shift in mood inside the car. Before pulling out of the parking lot, Ekko leaned into Jinx’s seat and whispered something Isha couldn’t catch. Jinx nodded gently, placing her forehead against Ekko’s. Isha turned her gaze to the side. It’s not like she hadn’t seen people be close before, but she never felt comfortable with it. It was a private moment between people who cared for each other, and it was something Isha didn’t really understand. She understood the idea of being close to someone, of feeling comfortable enough to allow them to be near you, but it was something that had never happened to her. Not the way Ekko and Jinx did. It frustrated her, too. Isha wondered if she was ever going to experience the care and love she saw on TV shows, in movies, or in the books they had her read for school. Isha didn’t remember her mother, and what she remembered from Mr. Smeeche’s house was not kind. 

Ekko drove through the streets of Piltover, rain pouring copiously on the windshield. Isha paid attention to the road, never one to fall asleep in the car. Her frown deepened the more they drove, cruising the streets that connected the city of Piltover with Zaun. When they made it to the bridge, she gripped her backpack tightly against her chest. All of her foster families lived in Piltover. Her social worker also said that families didn’t live in Zaun. They don’t live in Zaun often, Isha thought to herself. Luckily for her, they didn’t drive more than ten minutes after crossing the bridge, parking under a garage full of cars. It was a small building, rundown just as any other edification in Zaun was. It was brown, bland, dreary, and overall, everything Isha hated. She didn’t like Zaun, and she didn’t want to go back to Zaun. But she also didn’t want to ruin this chance for herself. Whatever issue she had with Zaun could be secondary; Ekko and Jinx didn’t need to know that her most painful memories came from its slums, or that the stunted affect and lack of communication were, in part, developed from existing in it. Isha just had to play nice and, hopefully, they wouldn’t ask much about her past or force her to go to a shrink. 

They made their way out of the car, and Isha ran to the back of the car, waiting for Ekko to open the back of the car. Once he did, she took the trash bag with her belongings and took a step back. Jinx looked at her questioningly, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Alrighty, kid,” Jinx said, trying to diffuse the tension felt in the parking garage. “Good and bad news. The bad news is that there is no elevator in our complex. The good news is that we live on the second floor.”

Isha nodded once and waited for them to make their way. They exchanged a look and made their way up the stairs. Jinx was right, they were right on the second floor, so the trip wasn’t that much of an issue. The stairs also seemed to have been renovated recently, with the carpet sticking neatly on each step and patterns that made it easy to see the next step. There were only two doors on the second floor, separated by a long hall. The doors were similar to each other except for the number. Ekko turned to the door on the right, the one with a big 4 on the side. 

“Welcome home!” Ekko said, opening the door to let Isha step inside. She hesitated for a bit, but decided to bite the bullet and get it over with. She was starting to get cranky from exhaustion. Jinx was on the other side of the door, arms extended in faux showmanship. 

Once inside, Isha stopped in her tracks. She hated Zaun for how dull and ordinary it looked, memories aside. But here, inside a tiny apartment on the border of Zaun and Piltover, Isha found the most color she had seen in her life. The couch, loveseat, and sitting cushion were all different colors, different stages of wear and tear, showcasing how much they were used. The walls were decorated with different paintings, portraits, pictures, and some prototype designs, all wrapped neatly in a blue, floral wallpaper. There was a large TV in the middle of the room, a long coffee table with papers and trinkets spread all over, and three bookshelves full to the brim. On top of these bookshelves, there were some action figures, small sculptures, and a vase with flowers. She walks inside cautiously, finding something new with every turn. 

“Shoes off,” Jinx called from the entrance, already unlacing her boots. “Makes it easier to clean.”

Isha pushed each shoe off with her toes, kicking them to the side in favor of exploring the space. There was an entrance on the right side; she walked through it and found the kitchen. It was cramped, but still as full as the living room. Pots and pans of different colors, cleaning towels with funny patterns, and a small, circular table with four chairs. To the side, there was the fridge and the pantry. A stack of fruit was pushed neatly against a coffeemaker. There was also a bowl of candy. Her eyes widened. She turned around, and there was a glass door next to the kitchen entrance. She could see what looked like a laundry room, with pieces of clothing hanging from a rack. Isha walked to the sink, a massive window pointing to the street. It was still raining, which made the streetlights look like fairy lights. She turned to the entrance, where Jinx and Ekko were waiting for her. They had a small smile on their face. 

“Wanna see your room?” Ekko asked, tilting his head towards the hall outside. Isha nodded, a little bit more eagerly this time. 

“Alright,” Ekko said, letting Isha step out of the kitchen. “Quick tour; you’ve seen the living room and the kitchen. There is the laundry room next to the kitchen. Bathroom is this door to the left,” he opened the door to the left in demonstration. He turned on the light to see a neat double set of sinks, the toilet, and the shower on the right side. There was a door on the other side. “We share the bathroom, so make sure to knock before coming in.” 

He closed the door to the bathroom and pointed to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s our bedroom. We don’t lock it, but we do close the door. We are awake until very late, so we close it to make sure you can sleep well. Your room,” he said, pointing to the door on the right, “is this one right here.”

Jinx opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Isha to go inside. 

Much like the living room, her room was covered in things, the things being mainly bugs. There were so many bugs. From the rug on the floor to the bedding, to the framed pictures of bugs, to the firefly lights decorating the ceiling. They were not kidding when they said they went overboard with the bugs. It took a couple of minutes for Isha to assimilate that the space was decorated for her. They had her preferences in mind. It wasn’t a discarded guest room with plain bedding and white pillows. Her bed was pushed against the corner, one side pressed against the wall. She had a closet right in front of the bed, open with a rack and hangers ready for her to add her clothes to. Next to the bed was a nightstand, and right next to it was a small desk with a chair overlooking another window. The curtains on the window were closed, though. On the right side, she had a vanity and a dresser jammed next to each other. On top of the vanity, there was a long, glass case with soil, some rocks, and a few small plants. She dropped her trash bag and walked towards it, using both hands to hold it up close to her face. 

“Jinx thought it would be a good idea for you to have your own place to store your bugs,” Ekko said. Jinx hit him with her elbow, giving him a narrowed look, but he just smiled. “It’s raining a lot right now, but we can go to the park next weekend, and we can do some digging. I read somewhere that there are usually more bugs after the rain.”

Isha turned to Jinx and Ekko, who stood in the doorway. Ekko was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, and Jinx had her arms wrapped around herself.

“So, what do you think?” Jinx asked, a hint of anticipation in her voice.

It had been a while, but Isha was never more certain about it. She smiled perfectly at them, putting the terrarium back on the vanity.

It’s great!