#perception issues

When Ingo had finally returned to him, Emmet thought everything was going to go back to normal. Sure, Ingo looked a bit older than him now, but he’d certainly gotten less tired looking, less haggard with proper sleeping and eating habits. Sometimes, what would have been regular teasing was taken seriously, with an overly formal apology following behind, but Ingo was remembering things each and every day. They fell more and more in step with each other, and although they hadn’t quite gone back to their former familiarity, Ingo was comfortable with the nature of their relationship.

They hadn’t slept together yet, but his brother was reaching for his hand, offering gentle kisses, and calling him sweet pet names. He had winced quite notably when Ingo had called him ‘Sir Emmet,’ and it seemed Ingo had curbed that habit with words that showed his love instead. It was charming, in its own way, and he kind of liked the reverent way Ingo said his name sometimes. 

All in all, his brother had picked up a few quirks, and some extra scars, but their life could continue as it had before. 

On an otherwise completely ordinary day, they were going about their business through Gear Station. People no longer stopped Ingo to ask what had happened, returning to cheerfully waving to him, or offering him tidings. The frequency in which the other depot agents checked in on Ingo slowed back to a normal level, only increasing when they thought Ingo was overworking himself outside of Emmet’s awareness.

Heading to their respective trains, Ingo suddenly gripped his hand tightly, his customary half-step ahead position dropped as he fell behind. Crisply stopping and turning to inquire on the unplanned halt between stations, he was greeted with Ingo’s hunched forward form, free hand inches from his face. Their two-car train’s normal order hitting a sudden switchover was strange enough, but the panicked look on Ingo’s face instantly choked his words in his throat. An attempt to ask his older brother what was wrong tripped out of his mouth. He could only squeeze his hand back as his brother’s eyes refused to focus. 

“E-Emmet…” Ingo’s hand in front of his face shook, and he could see the tremor hit his brother’s shoulders. “Something is wrong with my eyes.” 

Trying to contain his own steadily rising panic, he gently guided Ingo to the ground. Their coats fanned out around them, and the flow of commuters spread to pass by them like water. The respect of the passengers for the Subway Bosses granted them a space in such a busy place, but no one stopped to check on them. Just as well; Emmet didn’t think he could stand to talk to anyone else when he was so focused on Ingo, and his brother was in no shape to control the situation, like he usually did when Emmet struggled to talk.

“You can't see?” His twin brought his eyes up to him, and he clung tighter still, as if begging for confirmation that Emmet was there. His eyes wavered, as if struggling to focus, even with Emmet so close to his face. Lifting his free hand, Ingo touched his jaw, the tap of his gloved fingertips harder than usual as if misjudging the distance he had to move.

Even in the hectic din of the station, he could clearly hear Ingo’s voice, as if his ears were made only to listen to his beloved older brother. Even though Ingo’s voice was quieter than he’d ever heard before, the words he said were clear. “I see too much. I can see both at once.” 

Hearing him didn’t mean understanding him.

“W-What? What does that mean?” 

Ingo pulled him closer with the hand on his face, their hats tipping back to almost fall off as he insistently put their foreheads together. Shutting his eyes with a shuddered breath, he answered the best he could. “You are here in front of me and also not. I see Hisui in front of me as well as the station. I do not know how to explain otherwise.” When Emmet tried to pull back in confusion, he kept him close. 

“Nii-san, let’s go back to the office! We can figure it out there.” Ingo nodded, only releasing his grip when Emmet rubbed their noses together. When he tried to open his eyes, Ingo immediately squinted them closed again. There was no way that Ingo could keep them open to navigate his way back through all of the people while maintaining safety rules. Emmet blamed the tension in his brother’s frame on the lost memories that Ingo struggled to regain even now, and gave him a smile even if he couldn’t see it. “I’ll lead.” 

Time apart had not diminished their deeply ingrained connections, and Ingo followed smoothly behind him, intimately trusting the tracks that Emmet chose. When they were children, it had been Ingo’s role to be his conductor, and he would return the favor now. Crossing paths with Ramses, Emmet asked him to tell all the other depot agents to defer to Cloud for the rest of the afternoon, and that their train battles would need to be rescheduled. Keeping Ingo’s plight to themselves for now, the best he could come up with in the moment was that his brother felt nauseous and would be taking a rest in their office to determine their next stop.

Leading his brother to their couch, Emmet took their hats to rest on his desk. Returning to Ingo’s side, his twin turned to face him, eyes still closed. “Emmet,” Ingo called out with hesitation, and he scooted closer, leaning against his twin to give him a physical anchor. Relief caused Ingo to sag against him, and his own tension eased somewhat as well. The problem still existed, and hopefully Ingo would explain what he was experiencing, but now that they were together again, they could get through it. 

They stayed like that for a while, but when Emmet started to fidget, Ingo took both of his hands, pulling them into his lap. “I’m sorry I scared you, Emmet.” Tugging his older twin’s hands into his own lap, he scoffed. Ingo still couldn’t see, and he was the one apologizing? “I am just very disoriented right now, and I will admit I am quite worried. It came out of nowhere, and it has never happened before–”

“Nii-san. It’s okay. I am Emmet, and I will take care of you.” Voice firm, he had told himself the same when Ingo had first come back without any of his memories. The idea kept him going when Ingo was missing - he had to stay healthy and strong for Ingo, because when they found him, what if he had been hurt. No matter what, they would protect each other, and he would do it for the rest of his life if it was for Ingo.

Another attempt was made by his brother to open his eyes. Now that they were away from the noise of the station, it was easier to think, to mull over what Ingo had said earlier. His brother’s eyebrows knitted together, trying to focus on their linked hands. Frown deepening, Ingo flexed his fingers around Emmet’s hands. “You are here with me,” he affirmed, hesitatingly, as he himself did not even believe it. 

“Yeah! I am here for Ingo.” Wriggling his fingers in his twin’s grip, he smiled again now that Ingo could see it. Sort of. Ingo leaned towards him carefully, slowly, so they didn’t knock into each other. Making up the distance, Emmet pressed his lips against Ingo’s, letting his brother control the pace. The kiss was exploratory, like their first kiss back when they were younger, and Emmet was happy for it. He’d gone so long without any physical contact from his brother, so even the most clumsy intimacy was met with joy and unending affection. 

Between the distressing situation and still being at work, neither of them were feeling particularly frisky, but that didn’t stop him from peppering kisses all over his brother’s face. It had become a habit to show his brother open affection more frequently, pausing only when they were in the public’s eye. Before Ingo had disappeared, they had discussed a more obvious display of their love for each other, maybe sharing rings. But it seems that memory had disappeared along with many of the others. Emmet wouldn’t be discouraged, and they could just build up to that point again! 

In between kisses, Ingo described what he saw, trying to mesh the double vision into one understandable image. His description was as messy as his sight, and eventually they decided that Emmet leading Ingo home now would be the best course of action.

As the days progressed, there were some days where Ingo’s double vision subsided completely. Most days, however, he saw one world blurrier than the other, and it was a good day if it wasn’t Hisui in focus. On the worst of the days, Ingo would wear a blindfold, specially designed for longer stints of wear, and be guided around by Emmet. With a little bit of practice, and adjustment of the space usually between them, Ingo was capable of following Emmet without always holding his hand. It was an understandable circumstance to hold hands, but they saved the contact for when it was particularly crowded, or when they were in their office. Ingo just felt more comfortable that way, and Emmet would always do what he could to make his beloved twin feel good.

One thing Emmet began to notice, however, was that when Ingo wore the blindfold, he was verrrry sensitive to touch. The sensitivity was heightened even more when he wasn’t expecting it. He found himself coming up behind his twin quietly, whispering whatever he wanted to say into Ingo’s ear, and enjoying the shiver that tickled along Ingo’s whole body. It was cute, and quite unexpected. 

At the moment, Ingo was deep in thought, knuckle up to his mouth and coat off. The blindfold was an elegant, stylized design based on train tracks made out of velvet, with a soft, replaceable padding to protect Ingo’s closed eyes. Ingo had chosen silk as the fabric that rested against his face, and Emmet found it all very beautiful. It was a shame that he only wore it because it was unbearable to do so otherwise.

But for now, he made his footsteps as silent as possible, and when he was within reach, he traced his finger up from Ingo’s tailbone to in between his shoulder blades. The thin fabric of their button-up shirts added to the tickle, and Ingo jumped with a soft “A-ah!” He had no choice, after that sound, but to press himself up against Ingo’s back, wrap his arms around his brother’s waist. “Emmet?!” Ingo sputtered out, even though it could be no one else. 

In response, he brushed his lips against his older brother’s nape. He could feel Ingo’s undershirt move beneath the button-up as he circled his fingertips over his twin’s sides. The sensation made Ingo writhe in his grip, and red tinted the tips of his ears. “Nii-san~” he all but purred against the back of Ingo’s neck, encouraged by Ingo’s voice catching. “I did all the paperwork. I’m verrrry good!” 

Ingo turned to face him, as if that would stop his light touches. In reality, it just brought his lower back more into Emmet’s range. He ghosted his lips against Ingo’s chin to his jawline. “You were most efficient before lunchtime, Emmet. Bravo!” Ingo’s statement would have sounded casual, if not for the little huffs of breath that were beginning to catch on his words. They’d set alarms for Ingo to reference the time, and he took to it quite well - while he was not exact, he was usually within a few minutes of the correct time. 

“I should be given a present. For being a good boy.” Making to pull back from Ingo, he slid his fingertips from Ingo’s back to his front, lifting his touch away from the skin in irregular intervals as he did. 

Autor reads through the sentence he wrote over and over again. “I saw a little green house today,” it says. It’s said that for the last hour now.

The hour before that, it said, “I saw a little red house today.”

He thinks that’s what it originally said, and as soon as he does, the paper reads, “I saw a little red house today.”

He fumes and puts the paper down. It’s one thing to read a story differently, but the problem with that is life itself is a story. He puts his coat on and goes out, intending to see the house again for himself and determine what color it is.

Autor stops and frowns at the little yellow house he comes upon. This is the house he saw, he knows it is, and he’s doing this to spite himself. Why won’t his brain shut up?!

The yellow of the house is too bright and he closes his eyes, rubbing them under his glasses with his thumb and forefinger. When he opens his eyes again, the house is red. He swears, but at least the house stays red.

“I’m sick and tired of this!” he shouts at no one. “What’s the point of being able to see anything if I’m stuck seeing EVERYTHING?!”