back | home

Info:

The second chapter of "Radio Static," in which Ingo is gone and Emmet doesn't know what to do.

Warning for some very vague implied alcohol usage.

DISCLAIMER: Pokemon and all of its characters belong to Nintendo/Game Freak; I'm just borrowing them for fun.

Words: 2,453

Ingo was gone. Completely, permanently gone. He knew this. He had felt it. He had felt it as he had disappeared, how he had been there one moment, and then the next, just… hadn’t. Poof. No more Ingo.

It had been days. Or weeks, he couldn’t be quite sure anymore. It was so hard to keep track of much of anything, these days. Either way, there hadn’t been a single sign of him in all of that time; not where he’d gone, not how he’d disappeared, nothing.

He’d given up hope that Ingo would come back practically the instant the initial shock of his disappearance had faded. He was dead, there was no doubt about it. How else could he have just vanished, and so wholly, so instantly?

How else could all of his thoughts just… stop?

There had been nothing - no warning, no way for him to get to him, no way for him to prove it and get everyone to just stop, stop searching, stop reassuring him and telling him to hope.

Hope. Hope. Yeah, right. His brother was gone. What was there left for him to hope for but closure?

Nothing. There had been nothing at all. No fear, not a burst of pain. He hadn’t felt him fade as he got farther and farther away, though there was no way for him to get far enough from him to completely sever their connection so quickly, anyway.

At least that meant it was quick.

He let his thoughts turn to that night’s dinner as the door to his cold, empty apartment swung open. There was no point in thinking about it much anymore, if he was to make it through at all. The only thing he could really do anymore was wait for everyone else to finally get the memo.

Maybe he’d make lasagna.

Click.

As he flicked the light on, his brother’s pokemon rushed to greet him. It wasn’t out of joy from seeing their trainer’s brother after a long day, and he knew it. They were scared; Ingo had disappeared, and just like him, they were scared that the next most important person to them could be next.

For that reason, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to keep them in their balls all day. They had refused when he’d first tried, and he really didn’t want to try fighting them on it. He understood, in any case. They had been kept in them when Ingo had first disappeared, helpless to do anything. The thought of going back in must be painful.

He stroked Excadrill’s back as he nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder; gently, so as to not hurt him with the drill fixed on his head. He felt a mix of numb and forlorn. The Pokemon looked back up at him and keened sadly, leaning into his touch. He was trying his best to carry on, to pretend everything was normal. For all of their sakes.

Losing Ingo was easily the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. It was just too big. He had no clue how he could ever deal with it, get used to a life without his twin. So, he didn’t. He’d ignore it for as long as he could, at least until everyone else stopped expecting him back. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold on anymore once they all realized what he’d known from the start. Selfishly enough, he couldn’t help but hope that he wouldn’t have to.

It was just so hard. Losing Ingo was worse than losing a limb. It was that, and it was like losing an entire sense on top of it.

Ingo was his brother, his best friend; his very favorite person, and the most important one in his life. More than that, though, he was always there, and not necessarily in body. While it was true that they were practically joined at the hip, the thoughts and feelings they shared at all times turned it into something more.

As he hung his coat and hat on the too empty rack and drifted towards the kitchen, he couldn’t help falling deeper and deeper into his thoughts.

Ingo was always there, in the back of his mind, in his head, in his heart - in the most literal of senses. Nowadays, they didn’t share very many actual thoughts, just the slightest hints of emotions, enough to know when something was wrong, to know the other was there.

That, and another, more tangible reminder; they always shared the feeling of their own heartbeat - it didn’t serve much actual purpose, it was just nice. It wouldn’t be nearly as efficient as simple thought sharing if there was something wrong that they needed to know about, but the warm, full feeling in their chests had always comforted them when they were younger, so they had decided to continue sharing it.

Now, all of those constants of his life were gone, all in a single instant. He felt so empty, and so much lonelier than anyone could ever know, each and every day. He didn’t want to hear a single word about how they “knew how hard it must be,” or even how they “couldn’t imagine.” No, no they didn’t know - they could never know. They would never even think to imagine how he felt. He just couldn’t help feeling so angry, so bitter. How dare they imply that they knew how it felt to have such a huge part of himself ripped out? To have not only his closest friend taken from him, but to also lose a part of himself right along with him?

But he kept all of these thoughts to himself. It wasn’t their faults, and they were hurting, too; he was far from the only person who loved Ingo. More than that, though, he hadn’t a clue how to express it without sounding as though he’d gone insane from grief.

He rested his elbows on the counter, burying his face in his hands with a sigh. This was why he had gone right back to work following Ingo’s disappearance; despite the way everything seemed to remind him of him, despite how much it hurt to do it all without him, despite how tangible his absence was in every single instant that he didn’t feel him, it was easier. It was easier to keep himself busy, so that he couldn’t be left alone to let his thoughts spiral.

There had only been one other time he’d ever felt anything remotely like this, he thought grimly. The countertop was cold, seeping into his arms, spreading to the rest of him, but he couldn’t find the presence of mind to care.

Despite how he had known it to be temporary (because Mom and Dad had said it would be, and they wouldn’t lie to them. Emmet knows better, now, but back then he hadn’t really had anything else to get him through but trust in his parents), it had been the hardest time of his and Ingo’s entire lives.

Until now, at least.

In any case, at the time, any relief he may have felt at getting out of that painful feedback loop of fear and confusion, at knowing he wasn’t hurting his brother anymore, was completely overshadowed by the pain he had felt at being separated from him.

Feeling Ingo’s thoughts, feelings, senses - all of it - slowly slip away from him as he got farther and farther from home had felt like torture at the time, the worst pain he had ever felt. It was worse than that time he had broken his arm, and Ingo had been so scared and started crying from the pain, so he only cried harder, and it had gone on and on like that until he hardly realized what was happening around him anymore.

When he had finally been unable to feel a single bit of him, he had started sobbing louder than he could remember ever being before that moment. His father had been alarmed, but had just kept driving. It had simultaneously felt relieving and like some sort of betrayal at the time. He didn’t think he’d have been able to handle it if he’d tried to comfort him, but a part of him had wished he’d just decided to turn around right then and give up on it.

Now that he was older, he understood why they did what they did. He understood that there was no other way to help them. He understood that they were scared too, that they missed each other and their sons, that they didn’t want to do that to them.

Still, there was a bitter, ugly part of himself that wanted to blame them for all of it, that hated them for it, even so many years later. At the time, his greatest fear had been never seeing his brother again - even now, despite being reunited, it had always lingered in the back of his mind.

And now, that fear was his reality. He was all alone. Something had taken Ingo away from him, and he had no clue what it was, or why.

He did know one thing, though; whatever it was, it wasn’t going to give his brother back to him.

He was well and truly alone, and he had no clue what to do with himself.

Just then, the phone rang, halting his thoughts in their tracks. He rubbed his eyes, then leaned over to pick the phone up from its place on the wall. Elesa often made fun of them for still having a landline, but neither of them had ever really had a reason to need mobile phones. He regretted it for just a moment, with how having to reach over meant he had to sit up. He was tempted to just fold over and sleep right there after he hung up.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hello? Emmet?” a sweet voice replied.

Speaking of which…

“Oh, hello, Elesa. Did you need something?” he asked, trying to sound pleasant instead of tired. It was rather late for her to be calling.

Elesa was one of the ones leading the search for Ingo. Every day, she would come to him with updates. Or, well, “updates” was a generous word, given that there really wasn’t anything to be found. He hadn’t yet had the heart to tell her that he’d given up; she’d think he was just being cynical, anyway, and would waste energy trying to comfort him.

Usually, though, she’d catch him during his break, or early in the morning. She rarely ever called him at home, and she hadn’t since before his world fell apart.

On the other end of the phone, Elesa didn’t answer, but he thought he heard her sniffle. He felt his brow furrow.

“Elesa? Are you alright?” he said, now worried.

“...I just…” she started, then sniffled again. He heard some shifting sounds; he thought she must have been wiping her eyes, and his heart sank.

“Emmet, I… I know you don’t need me telling you how hard… all of this… has been for me, but I just…” she interrupted herself with another sniffle. He thought her voice had a strange quality to it. Tired, maybe. Usually so graceful, she was tripping over her words just slightly.

“It just feels like… well… Ingo’s go-... Ingo’s not here, and sometimes… No, it feels like you’re not either. I know it’s… I know it’s hard, harder than I could know, but, but, Emmet… you can’t keep pushing me away. I’m worried,” she admitted.

He was about to tell her not to worry, that it was just hard, she understood, didn’t she; then, she spoke again.

“I don’t want to lose you, too…” she whispered, sounding close to tears again.

He felt his heart sink. He couldn’t keep lying to her. But he couldn’t tell her the truth, either. She’d never believe him, or even really understand what he was saying. And he just couldn’t tell her the truth when she sounded so heartbroken already. He couldn’t take away what little hope she might have left. He couldn’t let her believe that she’d been running herself ragged all this time for nothing, even if it was true.

“...I’m sorry, Elesa. It’s just… hard,” he decided on, although he knew it was a weak excuse. He also knew that she wouldn’t want to question him with the situation they were in. Small mercies, he supposed.

She sighed, “I know, Emmie. But… I’m here, okay? I know… I know it’s hard for you to talk about things, sometimes… but… we don’t have to talk. We can- we can do anything you want, we can just sit together, I just…” she trailed off. He knew what she wanted to say, though; what she thought she couldn’t say.

I need you.

He didn’t know what to do. She needed him to be there for her, but he was barely able to be there for himself. She knew this, she understood, but he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her down, even if she expected it.

“Okay,” he said. “I will… we can. Talk about it. Later.”

“Okay, yeah,” she responded, and then yawned. “Goodnight, Emmie. I love you, okay?”

“Goodnight, Ellie. I love you, too,” he said back.

He hung the phone back up on the wall after hearing the beeping that meant she’d ended the call. He slumped back in his chair, suddenly feeling the weight of twice his years on him.

He just felt so lost. He had no clue what to do, what he even could do. What was there to do without his brother? He had lost him so suddenly, all at once, and now everyone else that loved him was holding onto a hope that he couldn’t possibly explain why he knew was wrong.

He knew he had the support of his family, of Elesa, of his other friends - really, of the whole of Nimbasa. Despite all of that, though, he couldn’t help but feel alone. The only ones who might understand it if he tried to tell them the truth were his parents, but he couldn’t do that to them.

Words of support from kind strangers and worried calls from loved ones like Elesa came in practically every day, but none of it made him feel any better. If it managed to get through to him at all, he only felt worse. And really, how could he respond any differently? His brother was dead.

He couldn’t help but want to disappear. He wanted this all to just end, to go away. He wanted his brother.

But none of that would happen.