#Emmet going absolutely ham and having fun

[nell0-0]

Day 14: music!

Just having some fun. Is anyone up for a battle of bands?

[randomwriteronline]

There are some differences that are funny.

His teeth are sharp, for example. And he bites into anything like an apple.

Onions. Lettuce. Wikis. Cauliflowers. Nanabs. Whole pieces of raw ham. Kebias. (He likes Kebias a lot now. Emmet thinks they taste like nothing.) Tamatos.

(He almost puked after that. Understandable. A whole mouth of Tamato Berry feels more or less like an incredibly tense job interview with Arceus. In a room where everything is on fire. And that room is your mouth. Emmet didn’t stop him because he thought it would have been funny as hell. It was! For the first five seconds. Then he started suffocating, so he helped him.)

Sometimes he will eat out of a hand. Without asking. Just assuming it’s for him. Many snacks have been lost to this. Elesa called it Zebstrika behavior.

Also the climbing. He can climb anywhere now. If Emmet points somewhere and goes, can you climb that?, he will just go and climb that. No hesitation at all. Absolute chaos.

Some differences are small.

Fidgeting with his wrist. Drawing circles on his shoulders. Praying. (They didn’t use to pray. The Dragons aren’t prayed to. They are invoked. It’s different). Saying things in another language. Making jams. Or pickled foods. Idioms nobody else has ever heard of. Sudden melancholies.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I simply derailed my train of thought.”

(Emmet understands. In a way.)

Small smiles.

Some differences aren’t fun at all.

The brace for his back. The shortness of his breath. The holes in his memory. The strained muscles and pained joints. The food intollerances.

The scars.

(Emmet hates seeing them, but when he does he cannot look away. He hates it. Do they still hurt? It’s a stupid question, but he can’t help asking. The answer is always a wave and a half smile, a reassurance: No, no, they’ve all closed long ago - there’s nothing to worry about. Sometimes they do still hurt, though. Sometimes Emmet sees him gritting his teeth for them. There’s medicine for chronic pain in the bathroom cabinet. Emmet hates it.)

These are the things Emmet hates the most.

His brother does not have these problems. His brother should not have these problems. He should have come back and everything should have gone back to normal and settled back into what it used to be. Perfectly slotted onto the rails. But it’s different. Mostly for the worse.

(Emmet does not blame his brother, of course. He blames what caused all this. His brother is alive and happy for the most part. That’s good. Emmet is still angry at whatever ruined his brother’s health and body forever.)

Emmet is different, too. Mostly for the worse, too. Emmet did not use to have auditory hallucinations. Or difficulty sleeping. Or anxiety attacks. Or intrusive thoughts. Or eating disorders. Emmet did not use to bite the skin between his thumb and index hard enough to pierce when he felt angry. Or get so nauseous he couldn’t help but throw up when he was tense. Or hyperventilate to the point of fainting when he was somewhere he didn’t know with too many people. Or start screaming uncontrollably when he was scared. Emmet did not use to have his emotions linger so much and so strong after he was done feeling them.)

But Ingo is happy.

Even if his brother is more of a handful than he already was.

(Don’t ever say that again, Ingo warned him: Don’t even try to.)

Ingo doesn’t think it’s a burden, not at all - his brother is still himself, even if maybe parts of him are hurt irreparably just like he himself has been damaged, and he still loves him terribly; so he kisses his head and squeezes him tight in a hug when he doubts himself, and eases him back down from the exhausting intensity of his moods, makes sure to be his anchor to reality, to monitor his health just like his twin does for him.

And if Emmet has to lay on the cold kitchen floor with him to finally catch up on some sleep, so long as he has a pillow to sustain his bent spine with and a blanket to lay on so he doesn’t freeze to death, Ingo will not hesitate to oblige and narrate at length of his warden days until they both forget all their pains and changes as they doze off laughing softly.