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"Emmet…" The head resting in the crook of his neck raised and dull eyes stared at him. After a moment of silence, Emmet got up suddenly, not saying anything. He kept his gaze on his brother for a second longer before turning on his heel and exiting the room. He came back carrying a small container and sat on the bed, glancing Ingo over. Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, he gave a slight nod and crawled back onto his twin, settling on straddling his waist.

Ingo watched in slight dismay but didn't say anything against it, mainly because he was too exhausted. Emmet pulled the bin over so it lay next to the younger's head, reached into it, and pulled out a dark piece of something. Ingo narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what exactly his brother was holding but had his thoughts interrupted when a sensation similar to the one earlier formed on his arm. He noted a drastic difference between the two, though. This one hurt.

The wince from the younger man didn't go unnoticed by Emmet, who paused in his rubbing. He shot his brother a look, one that clearly said, 'it's your own fault.' Resuming his previous task, he scrubbed at the bloodied limb before removing the damp -now significantly darker than before- rag from the other's arm and tossing it back into the bin. Pulling out a small box and fumbling with it for a moment, he plucked something out of it and set the box back down.

He kept his gaze down, rolling the object in his hands before uttering a single anguished phrase, "You promised me."

Ingo recoiled from the words as if he'd been slapped. "Emmet, I-"

"Don't." A weak glare was sent in his direction, successfully cutting him off before his arm was lifted from his side and placed in the elder's lap. Said elder received a soft sound and a wary look in response, both of which he ignored in favor of starting to tear strips from the roll in his hand.

Ingo grunted when something began wrapping around his arm, and he vaguely recognized the scratchy fabric as gauze, what he typically used to bandage himself. It continued to wind around him, from the beginning of his wrist to just below the crook of his elbow. Once it had been wound twice around, Ingo grimaced as it was pulled tight and taped together. The pressure felt strange against his torn skin, both a source of sharp, stinging pain and sweet, numbing relief. He never liked how it felt after the adrenaline seeped from his body and left him weak and hurting.

Daring a glance up at his twin, he noted an apprehensive look on his face. His older sibling was staring down at the bandaged arm, carefully turning it over in his hands. Then, slowly, he raised it to his face, expression melting into one resembling mourn. His eyebrows creased and lowered, the corners of his mouth tugged downwards, his eyes glittered with more unshed tears. Ingo felt his heart clench at the sight, a painful lump forming in his throat.

The lump grew infinitely bigger when he saw a single tear slip down his brother's face, gliding down his cheek and dangling precariously off his chin before dropping and landing against the younger's wrapped limb. The arm was lifted higher until the owner could feel warm breath against it.

A cool, feather-soft touch replaced the hot air, and trying to get air past his throat, Ingo felt something in him break. More tears splashed against his wrist, falling around the pair of lips pressed against it. Emmet's mouth twitched and warm air emitted from it, as if he were saying something.

Ingo strained his ears to make out the soft whispering and his body tensed, catching the two repeated words. I'm sorry. Feeling his own pale eyes begin to sting, the younger man used his free arm as leverage to prop up his upper body, wincing when his vision swam with black and a wave of nausea hit him. He blinked and shook his head to ward off the dizziness, scooting his body towards the headboard so he could sit up without the support of his elbow.

"Emmet," He swallowed painfully. "Emmet, please," His voice wavered, the lump in his throat tightening until he had trouble breathing normally. Taking quick, shallow breaths, he raised his free hand and placed it on his brother's damp cheek, semi-consciously rubbing his thumb across the shadowed skin under Emmet's eye. He lifted the man's face away from his other arm and the limb fell lifelessly back into his lap.

Only when the older lifted his gaze to meet Ingo's did the younger continue, albeit shakily. "Listen to me, Emmet. This isn't…it is not because of you, do you understand?" Which wasn't necessarily true; Emmet was one of the main reasons for his self-mutilation. His grip on his face tightened when the older averted his gaze. Ingo felt the water in his eyes building up, a few drops spilling over and running down his face, successfully blurring his vision.

He heard Emmet let out a soft whimper and acting entirely on impulse, Ingo pushed his protesting body further up, snaking the hand on the other's face around his neck and pulling his sibling down. Emmet fell against his twin's chest and immediately felt two arms worm under his to wrap around his bare back. The older man circled his own arms around Ingo's neck, securing them tightly. His buried his face in his brother's throat, another sob ripping out of his body.

Ingo clung on to the trembling figure atop his, clutching it to his chest like a child would a stuffed animal. Emmet drew in a shaking breath, trying to compose himself. He sniffed, shaking his head slightly and repeating his phrase. The younger brother made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, tightening his grip on Emmet.

"Look at me…don't be sorry. You've done nothing wrong,"

"I—brother, I…"

"Please." Emmet had risked a glance back up at him, withering when their eyes met. He just gave a small, shaky nod and lowered his head back down to his twin's chest.

They stayed like this for a while, laying there, enjoying the closeness, the warmth. Clinging to each other like lifelines. Ingo had drifted off in his thoughts and barely heard when his older brother murmured a soft question. Blinking to focus his eyes, he glanced over to find Emmet staring at him, his expression uncertain. His next words were reduced to a mere whisper, thick with some sort of emotion. "Were you scared?"

"No." The answer was definite and had come out of Ingo's mouth before it had come to his head. The elder twin's gaze flashed and his eyebrow quirked, something akin to pain crossing his features for a moment.

"I was. I am." Their eyes met; one pair dull and hurt and honest, one carefully masked with only an inkling of curiosity seeping through. Ingo opened his mouth to ask but was cut off. "You could have died. You could have taken yourself away. I could have lost you." His voice softened yet again. "I would have no one." His orbs slid closed and his grip on Ingo's hands tightened, almost painfully so. "Do you really hate me so much?"

"No." It was sharp and low, near a growl. Ingo realized this, and continued more gently, "No. No, Emmet, I don't hate you. I don't…" He paused and searched his brother's pale eyes. "I don't hate you."

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

The corners of Ingo's mouth twitched down further at the broken question. Heat bubbled in his stomach and his vision swam, though he wasn't sure whether that was from blood loss or anger or something else entirely. "You give me one good reason why that's hard to believe." His voice had operated without him telling it to do so, and it had come out as a demanding snarl. Emmet flinched away from him slightly, averting his gaze.

"B-because you're Ingo and I'm Emmet and Ingo is perfect and has no reason not to hate Emmet, because I'm not perfect and I drag you down and I make you so angry and I can't make you happy but I want to make you happy, I want Ingo to be happy, I want Ingo to love Emmet like I love you, and--"

A cold hand pressed against his mouth cut him off, and another hand came to rest on his cheek, wiping away the tears he hadn't known he was crying. His head was directed back to its original spot in front of Ingo's, bringing the two nose to nose. "One good reason," The younger murmured, his narrowed eyes gazing directly into the pair opposite of them.

"You cut yourself."

"You don't eat." They glared at each other, neither willing to give in. After a long moment, two matching sighs resonated at the same time.

"I want to be perfect." It was quiet and strangled, almost as if he were admitting it to himself for the first time.

"You are perfect."

Emmet emitted another quiet whimper, "M'not," To which Ingo responded with a soft, dry chuckle.

"But you are." He paused and closed his eyes for a moment, a small smile making itself known against his face. "So you don't eat very much, for whatever reason. That's okay. Because--no, listen to me," He stopped, running his fingertips across Emmet's face when he began shaking his head in denial. "Hey, hey." His other hand came around to rest on the elder's opposite cheek, holding him in place before continuing. "Because you know what? You're still great with your pokémon, and I know for a fact that a lot of our challengers look up to you for that. You're strong, and you're caring, and so many people like you just because you're you, and when it all comes down to it, there really isn't anything not perfect about you."

Tears had begun to slip from Emmet's eyes again. "You're—you're lying," He muttered, trying to move his head away.

"And what reason would I have for doing that?" He spoke softly, carefully.

"You hate me,"

Ingo actually laughed at this, a warm sound that filled the room. "You're so full of it." His brother shot him a look, eyes filled with raw confusion. "Emmet, you know that's not true." He raised his face a tiny bit, enough that both brothers could feel the other's breath against them. His voice lowered and his eyes narrowed.

"Th-then what?" Even as his voice was quiet and shaky, he was gravitating towards his twin slowly.

"You already know what,"

"S--" He swallowed, his breath hitching. "Say it,"

Ingo smiled, a soft, lazy smile playing at his lips. His voice had dulled to a quiet whisper, their faces barely centimeters apart. His next words were slow and precise. "I love you."

He touched their lips for a fraction of a second, pulling back to watch the elder. Silent tears had begun streaming down his face again, ones that Ingo was quick to wipe away. Emmet sniffed, quickly closing the space between them again, eyes squeezing shut and hands coming up to frame the younger's face, practically sobbing against Ingo's mouth.

The kiss was innocent, filled with love and need and hope and all of the words they couldn't say aloud. When they parted, Emmet buried his face in his brother's neck, crying and smiling all at once.

"I love you."

Description
"Emmet…" The head resting in the crook of his neck raised and dull eyes stared at him. After a moment of silence, Emmet got up suddenly, not saying anything. He kept his gaze on his brother for a second longer before turning on his heel and exiting the room. He came back carrying a small container and sat on the bed, glancing Ingo over. Pulling his lower lip between his teeth, he gave a slight nod and crawled back onto his twin, settling on straddling his waist.

Ingo watched in slight dismay but didn't say anything against it, mainly because he was too exhausted. Emmet pulled the bin over so it lay next to the younger's head, reached into it, and pulled out a dark piece of something. Ingo narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what exactly his brother was holding but had his thoughts interrupted when a sensation similar to the one earlier formed on his arm. He noted a drastic difference between the two, though. This one hurt.

The wince from the younger man didn't go unnoticed by Emmet, who paused in his rubbing. He shot his brother a look, one that clearly said, 'it's your own fault.' Resuming his previous task, he scrubbed at the bloodied limb before removing the damp -now significantly darker than before- rag from the other's arm and tossing it back into the bin. Pulling out a small box and fumbling with it for a moment, he plucked something out of it and set the box back down.

He kept his gaze down, rolling the object in his hands before uttering a single anguished phrase, "You promised me."

Ingo recoiled from the words as if he'd been slapped. "Emmet, I-"

"Don't." A weak glare was sent in his direction, successfully cutting him off before his arm was lifted from his side and placed in the elder's lap. Said elder received a soft sound and a wary look in response, both of which he ignored in favor of starting to tear strips from the roll in his hand.

Ingo grunted when something began wrapping around his arm, and he vaguely recognized the scratchy fabric as gauze, what he typically used to bandage himself. It continued to wind around him, from the beginning of his wrist to just below the crook of his elbow. Once it had been wound twice around, Ingo grimaced as it was pulled tight and taped together. The pressure felt strange against his torn skin, both a source of sharp, stinging pain and sweet, numbing relief. He never liked how it felt after the adrenaline seeped from his body and left him weak and hurting.

Daring a glance up at his twin, he noted an apprehensive look on his face. His older sibling was staring down at the bandaged arm, carefully turning it over in his hands. Then, slowly, he raised it to his face, expression melting into one resembling mourn. His eyebrows creased and lowered, the corners of his mouth tugged downwards, his eyes glittered with more unshed tears. Ingo felt his heart clench at the sight, a painful lump forming in his throat.

The lump grew infinitely bigger when he saw a single tear slip down his brother's face, gliding down his cheek and dangling precariously off his chin before dropping and landing against the younger's wrapped limb. The arm was lifted higher until the owner could feel warm breath against it.

A cool, feather-soft touch replaced the hot air, and trying to get air past his throat, Ingo felt something in him break. More tears splashed against his wrist, falling around the pair of lips pressed against it. Emmet's mouth twitched and warm air emitted from it, as if he were saying something.

Ingo strained his ears to make out the soft whispering and his body tensed, catching the two repeated words. I'm sorry. Feeling his own pale eyes begin to sting, the younger man used his free arm as leverage to prop up his upper body, wincing when his vision swam with black and a wave of nausea hit him. He blinked and shook his head to ward off the dizziness, scooting his body towards the headboard so he could sit up without the support of his elbow.

"Emmet," He swallowed painfully. "Emmet, please," His voice wavered, the lump in his throat tightening until he had trouble breathing normally. Taking quick, shallow breaths, he raised his free hand and placed it on his brother's damp cheek, semi-consciously rubbing his thumb across the shadowed skin under Emmet's eye. He lifted the man's face away from his other arm and the limb fell lifelessly back into his lap.

Only when the older lifted his gaze to meet Ingo's did the younger continue, albeit shakily. "Listen to me, Emmet. This isn't…it is not because of you, do you understand?" Which wasn't necessarily true; Emmet was one of the main reasons for his self-mutilation. His grip on his face tightened when the older averted his gaze. Ingo felt the water in his eyes building up, a few drops spilling over and running down his face, successfully blurring his vision.

He heard Emmet let out a soft whimper and acting entirely on impulse, Ingo pushed his protesting body further up, snaking the hand on the other's face around his neck and pulling his sibling down. Emmet fell against his twin's chest and immediately felt two arms worm under his to wrap around his bare back. The older man circled his own arms around Ingo's neck, securing them tightly. His buried his face in his brother's throat, another sob ripping out of his body.

Ingo clung on to the trembling figure atop his, clutching it to his chest like a child would a stuffed animal. Emmet drew in a shaking breath, trying to compose himself. He sniffed, shaking his head slightly and repeating his phrase. The younger brother made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, tightening his grip on Emmet.

"Look at me…don't be sorry. You've done nothing wrong,"

"I—brother, I…"

"Please." Emmet had risked a glance back up at him, withering when their eyes met. He just gave a small, shaky nod and lowered his head back down to his twin's chest.

They stayed like this for a while, laying there, enjoying the closeness, the warmth. Clinging to each other like lifelines. Ingo had drifted off in his thoughts and barely heard when his older brother murmured a soft question. Blinking to focus his eyes, he glanced over to find Emmet staring at him, his expression uncertain. His next words were reduced to a mere whisper, thick with some sort of emotion. "Were you scared?"

"No." The answer was definite and had come out of Ingo's mouth before it had come to his head. The elder twin's gaze flashed and his eyebrow quirked, something akin to pain crossing his features for a moment.

"I was. I am." Their eyes met; one pair dull and hurt and honest, one carefully masked with only an inkling of curiosity seeping through. Ingo opened his mouth to ask but was cut off. "You could have died. You could have taken yourself away. I could have lost you." His voice softened yet again. "I would have no one." His orbs slid closed and his grip on Ingo's hands tightened, almost painfully so. "Do you really hate me so much?"

"No." It was sharp and low, near a growl. Ingo realized this, and continued more gently, "No. No, Emmet, I don't hate you. I don't…" He paused and searched his brother's pale eyes. "I don't hate you."

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

The corners of Ingo's mouth twitched down further at the broken question. Heat bubbled in his stomach and his vision swam, though he wasn't sure whether that was from blood loss or anger or something else entirely. "You give me one good reason why that's hard to believe." His voice had operated without him telling it to do so, and it had come out as a demanding snarl. Emmet flinched away from him slightly, averting his gaze.

"B-because you're Ingo and I'm Emmet and Ingo is perfect and has no reason not to hate Emmet, because I'm not perfect and I drag you down and I make you so angry and I can't make you happy but I want to make you happy, I want Ingo to be happy, I want Ingo to love Emmet like I love you, and--"

A cold hand pressed against his mouth cut him off, and another hand came to rest on his cheek, wiping away the tears he hadn't known he was crying. His head was directed back to its original spot in front of Ingo's, bringing the two nose to nose. "One good reason," The younger murmured, his narrowed eyes gazing directly into the pair opposite of them.

"You cut yourself."

"You don't eat." They glared at each other, neither willing to give in. After a long moment, two matching sighs resonated at the same time.

"I want to be perfect." It was quiet and strangled, almost as if he were admitting it to himself for the first time.

"You are perfect."

Emmet emitted another quiet whimper, "M'not," To which Ingo responded with a soft, dry chuckle.

"But you are." He paused and closed his eyes for a moment, a small smile making itself known against his face. "So you don't eat very much, for whatever reason. That's okay. Because--no, listen to me," He stopped, running his fingertips across Emmet's face when he began shaking his head in denial. "Hey, hey." His other hand came around to rest on the elder's opposite cheek, holding him in place before continuing. "Because you know what? You're still great with your pokémon, and I know for a fact that a lot of our challengers look up to you for that. You're strong, and you're caring, and so many people like you just because you're you, and when it all comes down to it, there really isn't anything not perfect about you."

Tears had begun to slip from Emmet's eyes again. "You're—you're lying," He muttered, trying to move his head away.

"And what reason would I have for doing that?" He spoke softly, carefully.

"You hate me,"

Ingo actually laughed at this, a warm sound that filled the room. "You're so full of it." His brother shot him a look, eyes filled with raw confusion. "Emmet, you know that's not true." He raised his face a tiny bit, enough that both brothers could feel the other's breath against them. His voice lowered and his eyes narrowed.

"Th-then what?" Even as his voice was quiet and shaky, he was gravitating towards his twin slowly.

"You already know what,"

"S--" He swallowed, his breath hitching. "Say it,"

Ingo smiled, a soft, lazy smile playing at his lips. His voice had dulled to a quiet whisper, their faces barely centimeters apart. His next words were slow and precise. "I love you."

He touched their lips for a fraction of a second, pulling back to watch the elder. Silent tears had begun streaming down his face again, ones that Ingo was quick to wipe away. Emmet sniffed, quickly closing the space between them again, eyes squeezing shut and hands coming up to frame the younger's face, practically sobbing against Ingo's mouth.

The kiss was innocent, filled with love and need and hope and all of the words they couldn't say aloud. When they parted, Emmet buried his face in his brother's neck, crying and smiling all at once.

"I love you."