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Emmet stares at Ingo, stares at his brother , willing more words to follow. There's only silence. Ingo's hands find his own, thumbs pressed against his palms and fingers gently rubbing the backs of his hands. There's no comfort in the way Ingo holds him, not anymore. Emmet intuitively knows Ingo wants to pull him into a hug, but off the back of that? It makes Emmet feel nauseous. He wants to throw up. He wants to sit down. He wants to get away. Ingo isn't even holding his hands with any real effort. He could step back if he wanted. If his body would listen to him.
Ingo doesn't smile often. Those are usually for Emmet. It's a strained smile, losing confidence with every passing second that takes the space of what Ingo wants to hear. The knowledge that this is his - Emmet's - doing only adds to his mounting queasiness.
“I…ahhh…it appears that I have misjudged the situation. My, umm, apologies, Emmet.” Ingo takes action for him, awkwardly stepping back and letting his hands fall to his sides. Even still there's a glimmer of hope on that tense face. It fades as Emmet only stares at him, unable to summon words. Does he even want to talk to his brother? Ingo visibly deflates, shoulders sagging, as he begins to understand Emmet's silence.
“I'm sorry, Emmet. Truly. I did not properly consider all possibilities of such a confession.” Ingo seems to brighten up impossibly fast. Emmet knows it's a facade; Ingo's chest is puffed out unnaturally in an attempt to emulate confidence, and he's picking at the buttons on his shirt. “Forget I said anything! Nothing's changed. Nothing's different. It's all the same as it's always been. No before or after.”
‘Nothing’s changed’? Everything had just been flipped around! Everything had changed! Emmet gaped in disbelief, but Ingo seemed dedicated to his part. Ingo had just dropped a bombshell on him, and now expected to walk it back so smoothly when it had already exploded in his mind? Emmet wasn't going to get those thoughts out of his head, maybe not ever!
Emmet took a step back and tightly crossed his arms over his chest, feeling unusually vulnerable under his brother's gaze. “Y-yeah. Nothing different,” he agreed lamely. Except now he couldn't look at his brother, not knowing if Ingo was mentally undressing him at that very moment. Previous compliments about his looks suddenly had brand new context, and Emmet fought back a grimace. Those were awful thoughts to project onto Ingo.
But they had merit. In Emmet's mind, at least. Had Ingo ever…? His fists clenched at his sides.
“I…I am Emmet,” the words slipped him back into control of his own body, like routine, “and I am going for a walk. One hour. I will be back.” Emmet gave Ingo no chance to respond, nor did he even look at his brother as he pushed right past him, snatching up his keys and wallet on the way out the door.
Emmet stared down at his wrist, down at his xtransceiver message logs with ingo. He'd blown through half of his hour already, his legs having carried him to Gear Station. The muffled sounds of the underground trains and the cacophony of impossible to distinguish voices of the busy station left him with no mental space to think too hard for himself. This was just running away and avoiding the problem. Still, he must have brought himself here for a reason.
It wasn't an overly responsible use of position, slipping into the staff areas while off the clock. He wasn't even on shift that weekend! Even so, and without his typical workplace attire, Emmet was given the same respect by the station employees as if this were nothing unusual. Embarrassment rose in his cheeks. He couldn't help it if being at work helped clear his head!
Emmet paused at an unlocked door, the handle polished thoroughly by his and Ingo's gloved hands. He grabbed it, twisted it, and entered the office. Everything was as they'd left it - his and Ingo's desks littered with various knickknacks, computer screens framed by peeling sticky notes, and, of course the bottom drawer of Ingo's computer desk was still sitting on the floor with everything inside it nearly arranged. Emmet smiled softly, remembering Ingo's insistence that no , he did just have extra screws in his box. The drawer had fallen clean off the first time Ingo opened it, and he'd refused to fix it because that would have meant admitting he was wrong to Emmet after having been so confident.
Emmet sat down on the small lounge, very aware now of how it was a two seater. Ingo had picked it out.
He was putting intent behind his brother's past actions again.
Emmet sank into the cushions and kicked his legs up over the far arm. It wasn't particularly comfortable. He pushed the thought aside and rested his hands on his chest.
Ingo was still…Ingo. It wasn't like he'd been replaced. Just…he had though, in a way. Well, more like Emmet's idea of Ingo had been replaced. Emmet frowned. It wasn't his fault that Ingo had gone and…and muddied things! He loved his brother, well and truly, but clearly Ingo had more love than he did.
Emmet grimaced. Maybe they were spending too much time together? They worked together. Lived together. Did just about everything together. That was just what twins like them did! His mind wandered to a certain triplet who accompanied them to conventions. Cilan was never joined by his brothers - utterly asinine! Emmet couldn't imagine doing anything without…
He frowned. Cilan never seemed upset by his brothers’ lack of interest in his hobbies. And he never seemed to desire sticking his nose in his brothers’ business whenever they picked up a new interest.
If he was being honest with himself, Emmet didn't really know any other twins. He didn't have a great reference point. Maybe they were too close? And maybe their constant proximity was affecting how they thought of each other. Well, maybe just how Ingo thought about him.
Maybe Ingo needed a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend - Emmet wasn't one to judge! The prospect of being replaced, in a way, admittedly didn't quite sit right with Emmet. It was just a new idea, that was all, and Emmet wasn't too enthusiastic about changes.
Emmet flicked his wrist and glanced at his xtransceiver, feeling a little guilty upon seeing the time. He'd pick up some takeaway on the way home - there was a nice little curry place they both liked. They both liked a lot of the same things, Emmet realised as he slowly got up, and he quickly stamped out the thought.
The plastic takeaway bag in his hand gave Emmet a little more confidence to face Ingo, even as he fumbled with his key. The door opened into silence, the lights still on throughout their home.
“Ingo? I bought takeaway so you better get your ass out here before I feed your share to Garbodor!” Emmet carefully set the bag down on the kitchen counter and began unpacking it. When there was no response after a few minutes he made his way to Ingo's bedroom and smacked his fist on the door. “Ingo! Honest, I stopped by that curry place we like. You better come out and enjoy it.”
No response. Emmet hesitantly opened Ingo's door and peered into his room. He didn't like invading his brother's privacy - they might have shared nearly everything else, but this felt a step too far without invitation.
There was no Ingo hidden away in his room, not even under the bed. Emmet frowned and flicked his wrist. No messages from his brother either. Maybe he has just gone for a walk too. Admittedly it stung a bit that Ingo hadn't even left a note, but they were both adults. They didn't need to have tabs on each other 24/7. Ingo would just come back to cold curry, and Emmet would give him no sympathy over the inevitable complaints.
Emmet shrugged and retrieved a fork, taking his takeaway box and sitting himself down on the lounge.
Mulling it over for a moment, Emmet quickly recorded a message to Ingo: “Hey, Ingo. I am back home. I bought takeaway. I won't feed your share to Garbodor, promise. It will be in the fridge if you have not come back home in an hour or so.” It was probably best to leave out the intimidating ‘we need to talk’ part. Obviously they needed to talk, whether Ingo wanted to or not. His wrist buzzed as confirmation that the message had been sent, and Emmet turned his attention back to his food. Ingo's loss.
Ingo wouldn't come back.