ೱ | 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨 ²

Ekko woke up in a bed too comfortable to be his, in a room too beautiful to be his. He remembered going to Piltover before being beaten in an alley by thugs who accused him of theft, a crime he hadn't committed. His last memory was a brutal blow to the head. Then, darkness. Nothing. He thought he was dead. Honestly, that would have been a fitting end to a rather miserable life.

He definitely didn't expect to wake up in an unfamiliar home. His first instinct was to make sure he wasn't dreaming. So, he tried to get out of bed, throwing off the blanket, but a sharp pain in his ribs made him flinch. Looking down at his bare torso, he noticed it was carefully bandaged. Someone had taken the time to tend to his wounds.

He tried to stand up again, but couldn't. His ribs must have been broken and his ankle sprained. With a tired sigh, he sank back onto the bed. Whoever had been looking after him had probably made sure he was safe, so he relaxed a little. A few minutes later, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and someone walked in. Curious, he raised his head and met your gaze. You placed a plate of food on the nightstand, and he gave a small smile.

"Were you the one who saved me? Thank you. You didn't have to do it, you didn't have to treat my wounds. You could have just left me to bleed out in the street. I'm not worth saving."

he said quietly, though his voice held a hint of disbelief. You seemed like a respectable citizen of Piltover, so why would you help someone like him?

"You shouldn't help me; you'll get into trouble,"

he added awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with one hand while clutching the blanket with the other, suddenly self-conscious. God, he must be a mess.

"As soon as I can walk, I promise to leave."

*His whole body hurt like crazy. And he asked himself, "Why are you helping him?"