Chapter Text
Ingo had always known his parents didn't like him.
At the time, it made sense to him: he was too loud, too stoic, too shy; too anxious and too nervous; the opposite of Emmet. His younger twin was everything his parents wanted: quiet, independent, confident and easy to manage. His short clipped words were better than Ingo’s incessant rambling. He didn't cry over every possibility; didn't need to earn their praise and hugs when he failed or succeeded at something. Emmet was everything they wanted and more while Ingo was the unfortunate leftovers, embodying every fear and worry.
Ingo tried - desperately tried - to earn their favour, to prove he was worth the hugs and headpats, kind words and patience. He would not speak more than a sentence to not ramble or hurt their ears with his emotions,not talk to the other kids so they can’t inevitably make him cry, not to hug or cling to his parents or ask his brother for hugs less he be ‘needy’ and ‘difficult’.
It was hard and draining, and by the time they entered school Ingo was known as the emotionless, scary twin. Their parents didn't yell at him - didn't even really talk to him at all - but they did seem to tolerate him. Emmet avoided him, did not come to him unless he needed another person.
(He only came to him when he knew no one would be paying attention to him. Only played games with him in absolute secrecy and sought his company when everything became too much.)
He thought he was being a good child - a good brother - until he overheard a conversation between his mother and his twin. It was after school and Ingo wanted a snack, so he went to the kitchen only to see his twin crying on their mothers shoulder.
“It's good you're not like your brother” she whispered, voice soft and airy, like she was sharing a horrible secret everyone but Ingo knew, “he's too needy and troublesome. He may be older, but you're better than him in every way that matters to me.” She continued as she swept away tears that flowed on his brother's wet face.
It had hurt but Ingo was more than aware of his mothers opinion of him. What destroyed him was not the cold words disguising as warm reassurances, no it was what Emmet had said in response with his lips mimicking Ingo’s scowl with red eyes narrowing.
“I wish I wasn't a twin. Because Ingo is a failure. I am Emmet. I am not a failure. But everyone thinks that since we are twins.”
He didn't wait around to hear the reply.
(He did however see the slow nod of his mother, her lips turned up in smirk in approval, like Emmet when he won a game only it wasn't as pleasing or comforting to look at.)
He hid in his room, trying to rationalise his brother's callous words. Despite the divide between them, he tried being a good sibling, tried to protect him. He made sure that no one bullies him and that he would succeed where Ingo failed so he never has to face their parents' rejections.They were identical twins after all, what if mother decided Emmet wasn't enough? What if father decided he wasn't enough? Ingo would gladly be looked down on as the lesser twin if his brother was safe but he didn't want Emmet to hate him, for him to believe Ingo was lesser.
Maybe Ingo wasn't a good brother. Maybe Ingo would never be a good son. Maybe Ingo’s best would never be good enough. He already tried to be everything yet he wasn't enough- and never will be enough.
The cold realisation consumed him - suffocated him - with the pressure in his building and building and building- Until it became too much and he allowed himself to cry even if it did nothing for his heart to stop shattering.
(sometimes, he thinks he never stopped crying)
When he went to bed, Ingo could not sleep. They long since had different rooms on their mothers insistence despite fathers disapproval, but Ingo was used to his brother coming to him to ask to sleep in his bed since the darkness scared him and Ingo’s ceiling had glow in the dark stickers. He would always hum a lullaby or retell one of the legends father was obsessed with until his twin would fall asleep in his arms.
(Ingo shared his fathers love of legends and myths. He kept the storybooks from childhood in a secret place under his bed; careful to ensure that no one would find it. He would never dare tell anyone other than his twin of his shared interest, not father and never mother.)
(She never hid her scowl well enough when fathers back was turned)
Emmet didn't come that night. Nor the night after that or the one after that-
But that's okay! Maybe Emmet thought he was too big to need his twin to sleep. But he also stopped talking to Ingo, stopped playing games with him, and stopped acknowledging Ingo existed. (The only times he did was when Ingo messed up or when he needed a scapegoat.)
Ingo was forced to accept that his brother truly hated him. (that he picked mother over him)
(He cried himself to sleep that night, and the night after and the one after that-)
Weeks later during another sleepless night, his mind wandered to the ideals for the future his family has: Emmet wants to not be twins anymore, mother does not want to waste any time or effort with Ingo and father always said that Ingo was too much (too loud, too sensitive, too emotional, too much everything )
A future that could be achieved if Ingo was out of the picture.
(A future held back by Ingo himself)
It wasn't an easy decision, but Ingo did not want to burden them anymore. He didn't want to hold down Emmet anymore than he had to. (Didn't want to hear their words or silence anymore)
So he ran away.
He ran and ran away from the house, from his parents, from Emmet. (from himself.)
He ran into the woods, wild bushes scraping him and tall trees stopping the light from exposing him. Kept running until all the feelings of misery and self hatred had untangled from his chest, allowing the cool air to flow in him. Even then he didn't stop until the dirt under him was consumed by grass and plants, no longer showing any path to him (or any path out).
He only stopped in a clearing overgrown with wild plants and trees. Abandoned nests littered the area making it the perfect place for Ingo to lie in.
(there were also no wild pokemon out.)
(Ingo thought they all were simply tired - that they slept in to avoid the day - and paid no mind)
The memories were blurry, how long he stayed and when exactly the sky greyed were vague and jumbled. Perhaps it was due to hunger or thirst (or his sadness), but one moment the sky was blue and the next thick clouds covered it. He assumed night was approaching and didn't want to stay in the open.
He was fumbling with his bag - he did have some sense to bring food and drinks as well as essentials - when he felt a drop. A drop turned to several turned to thousands in a matter of seconds. Ingo was going to be drenched. He bolted for a big tree that could easily hide him, already accepting that he will be staying there for a while - until he heard it.
A cry. A pokemon cry.
It didn't sound like a zorua or a patrat. It sounded a chime, only being heard due the wind carrying it. Ingo started to scramble down to look for the noise. A pokemon out in this weather would get sick! And Ingo was well aware how long it would take to get to a pokemon centre or a pokemart. He searched - already regretting abandoning the high ground - when he saw it.
A blue flame.
A fire type was out in a storm.
He scurried towards the flame. Already taking off his jacket to scoop the poor thing in. As he got closer he the pokemon began looking more familiar: it looked like a candle, had yellow eyes and the flame was not as heavily affected by the water as Ingo thought it would be. But that didn't matter in the end, Ingo managed to scoop the pokemon up and held them close to his chest.
It was also then, that he realised he can’t see the tree anymore. A shiver started to run through him (which was strange as he swears he wasn't this cold before) and a new panic settled in. He could go back but Ingo has a pokemon now so he needs to find a better place where no water can get through. It was going to be difficult, he had no clue where he was going, but Ingo had to move lest the cold jam his limbs and let the rain eat through his skin.
He kept stumbling and slipping as the shiver had begun to become more violent. It was only till he saw the rain forming little waterfalls that he found his destination. A large yet fairly dry cave that was just above the ground enough so water didn’t flood its floors.
By the time he was in, he was soaked to the core. His clothes clung to him like a joltik to a battery and his body was shaking more than the leaves outside - and he somehow was even more cold. He put the bundle - which he managed to keep dry and warm somehow - onto the floor. The pokemon looked confused and angry with their (cold?) flame flaring, shooting him a glare only to soften when they saw Ingo looking like a wet lillipup. The flame settled and the pokemon looked apologetic when it realised Ingo had protected them from the storm.
Litwick, he realised. The pokemon was a litwick.
He tried speaking, but his teeth kept chattering and his breath felt too shallow and his throat was closing up. His legs gave out under him, body curling in a vain attempt to keep him warm. His mind felt stuffy and his chest so cold with his limbs so weak and sluggish like he was underwater.
He was exhausted.
The litwick started frantically shuffling close to him, the shiver he had seemed to weaken and the flame was so warm despite being freezing seconds earlier. His limbs seemed to be able to move again - which unjammed his body - and his breathing was no longer shallow. He couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh once the warmth burned away the cotton in his mind.
The pokemon let out a gentle worried cry, sticking close to Ingo’s side that was still shaking but not as violently as before. They stayed like that for a bit until the warmth suddenly left his side, leaving him vulnerable to the harsh winds. He let out a betrayed cry until something warm and dry was being pushed onto him. It turned out to be his jacket.
He suddenly realised he was still drenched. (No wonder he was still shivering if he was still wearing his wet clothes.)
He reached into his bag -which was thankfully waterproof - to get his favourite warm black turtleneck and an extra pair of trousers and socks. His numb fingers had some difficulty in removing the sticky clothing that scraped against so roughly it made his skin crawl, but he managed and he discarded the wet clothing in the recess of the bag.
Once he finally put on the jacket, he reached for the pokemon. He made sure to keep his hands out with palms facing up and not to grab them (It would be very rude if he did that). The litwick eyed him for a bit until they hopped on and Ingo held them close to his chest, to protect them from the storm still raging outside. It was the closest to a thank you he could do with his throat still clogged up.
His eyes drooped and the gentle flame curled against him harmlessly. He stared at it in an effort to stay awake, not wanting to annoy the pokemon more than he already had. He tried to pry his eyes but soon realised he couldn't yet he felt no alarm.
He needs to go to sleep. (But he has to stay awake.)
He was tired. (That's okay though, he used to be tired.)
He needed rest. (He’ll rest when they’re safe.)
He will be safe. (Will he?)
He will be protected. (He is?)
He needed to sleep. (He… needs… to… sleep…)
He stirred awake and was greeted by dull blue flames tipped with purple. He looked at the mouth at the cave only to be startled by the sheer darkness.The only light provided was by the stars and the pokemon in his arms. Wait-
Ingo glanced down at the pokemon, who looked exhausted, and gently placed them down on the ground. The litwick let out a surprised chime but with the way the flame swayed before settling he got the feeling that the pokemon was relieved.
He cleared his throat, which thankfully seemed to be fine now, and addressed the pokemon before him.
“Sorry I didn't say this earlier, but thank you.”
The pokemon looked startled and then… guilty? Maybe Ingo wasn’t direct enough? But why would they feel guilty? Then again, didn't he start shaking after picking them up? Did they cause that? He tried imaging getting picked up suddenly and quickly realised he must have terrified the poor pokemon and they were blaming themself! He felt his face flushing. He needs to rectify this fast!
“Um, I should apologise for picking you up without your consent. I- I uhh should've asked. I would have freaked out as well. So it's not your fault. I should have thought ahead or asked.” He was just repeating himself now but he hoped his words made up for his unchanging ‘sour face’ Emmet said he had.
Their flame flared up and seemed more blue than purple causing Ingo to believe they were still angry. Instead the flame flared and wavered when the pokemon let out a series of cries in what he assumes is their own apology - which had confused Ingo since he was the one who messed up - and proceeded to look bashfully at the floor.
“Well- it's okay! Really! I shouldn't have startled you! So really it's my fault and you don't have to apologise!”
The litwick let out an irritated huff and protested more and kept protesting against his protests! (Ingo couldn't understand why, everyone blames him for when things go wrong. The litwick had every right!) They both kept at it until a piercing howl caused them both to jump - the litwicks flame stilling. It also caused some noises to echo deep within the cave, which abruptly reminded them that there were still other pokemon around.
After a few tense moments of pure silence, Ingo realised that they really shouldn't keep arguing forever, especially not if they wanted to stay alone.
“Okay so we’re both sorry, so it cancels out?”
The litwick, equally unnerved by the idea of company , finally relented, flame settling. They both sat there in awkward silence; only the gentle brustling of wind and dripping of water could be heard. The woodlands felt strangely peaceful despite the fallen trees and displaced water. Thankfully no pokemon appeared to be had out in the storm. Except-
“If I'm allowed to ask, why were you out in a storm?”
The litwick slumped and eyes sad - its flame becoming so small and purple that Ingo was certain he overstepped - and pointed to a tree.
Ingo tilted his head “You were at a tree?”
A flicker and a nod.
“Why?”
They let out a frustrated huff and kept pointing.
“Food?”
They had shaken their head, and kept pointing.
“Friends?”
Another shake, their flame getting bigger in agitation.
“Wood for a fire?”
…He got laughed at for that one.
“...Leaves?”
The laughter died, but Ingo had known he hadn't gotten the right conclusion. He racked his brain for what would cause the response: did they burn some leaves? But they laughed at him for the wood one. Maybe they were looking for their favourite leaf? No, that was equally ridiculous. Maybe the word was similar to-
Oh.
Oh.
“...you were left there?”
The silence answered for him. The litwick’s flame was nearly non-existent now, which allowed the darkness to seep in. He remembered vaguely that litwicks had a terrible reputation - apparently guiding people somewhere bad - and wondered if that was why they were left in the middle of a storm; expected to be snuffed out in the downpour to erase any connection that would have remained.
(Like what mother always did to him. Never mentioning him. Never talking to him. Pretending she only had one son.)
(Like what Emmet had started doing)
“I get it.”
He curled inwards, the only indication that he was being listened to was the slowly retreating shadows.
“Nobody wanted me around either. I tried to make them happy - I wanted them to be happy - but they were only happy when I was gone.”
He looked at the stars, “So, I thought, if I went away they could be happy. I wondered if… if they would cry or… if they would even notice I left in the first place.”
Tears were streaming down his face, but he wiped them away. He would be glad if they didn't notice, that meant Ingo did something right and did not cause them even more problems. If they did notice, that meant Ingo was causing problems and couldn't even run away right.
(Selfishly he hoped they did. That this would be the turning point and when he comes back it would be like in the movies: mother crying, father seeming stern but softly apologising and Emmet running to him and trapping him in a hug so he would never leave again - that they were twins again.)
He felt a weight at his sides and looked down to see the litwick, eyes in understanding and flame gently warming him, one of their hands touching him in support.The gesture warmed him to the core and he hoped the smile he felt would come through.
As they - two abandoned and unwanted beings - sat together under the stars, an idea came to him.
“...you know, if no one wants us, we could want each other.”
He only got a look of confusion, so he elaborated.
“I-I mean, if you're okay with it, we could be partners. I stay by your side and you stay by mine, and we never have to be alone again!”
The baffled look faded and one of excitement replaced it. Their flame curled around happily and they let out a happy cry. Ingo couldn't stop the joy he felt either, his volume raising.
“How about this,” he pulls out his pinky “we make a promise to always be there for each other no matter what, okay?”
He presents it to the litwick, slowly presses his hand to his pinkie and beams at him, fire dancing a brilliant blue.
Ingo feels a rare tug on his face, and hopes he is smiling. A moment of clarity washes over him though.
“Oh I forgot to ask!” He scrambled up, feeling awful for forgetting his manners “what's your name!”
The joy from his litwick faded, they shook their head and looked at the ground, flame weakening. This will not do.
“It's okay! You can pick one!” They peaked up while Ingo looked around for inspiration, “How about…River?”
A shake and a disgruntled cry. Right, they were a fire type.
“Moon?”
Nope they didn't like that one either. Maybe he could use one of fathers myths?
He looked at the sky, staring at the stars, as if they would show him the perfect name. Father did have a story for this, didn't he? Something about a star guiding others to their destination, always being seen in the night, but what was its name-
“Polaris!” He exclaimed “How about Polaris? Since you guide people?”
The litwick just stared at him - making him worry he offended his new friend already - until its flames burst in happiness, a wonderful ombre of blues and purples lighting the cave. Ingo feels his cheeks pull at the sight of their happiness.
Then Polaris pointed at him. He was confused for a bit, until he realised he didn't introduce himself.
“Oh- Um, my name is Ingo! It's nice to meet you!”
The chime of agreement and the dancing flames made Ingo feel whole, all the worries of the present seemed small to their potential future, as the pain of the present no longer stopped his excitement for the future.
He presented his hand and pulled Polaris close to his chest once they hoped up, and watched the stars together.
(Maybe mother will never love him. Maybe father will never tolerate him. Maybe Emmet will never want to be his twin again)
(But for once, Ingo thinks he can face it)