#some sections are missing and patched in with parenthesis

[coramatus]

Cut ‘there were no instructions or fine print’ snippet bc the premise refused to cooperate

(…)

(A few days pass after Ingo comes home. Emmet has been moping the entire time, reluctant to interact with what he thinks is just the scraps of his brother. That entire time, Ingo has been trying to get Emmet’s attention by increasingly silly means. He tries writing but it comes out in Hisuian by mistake, he tries an old Xtransciever but the device malfunctions, tries typing on a computer only to break it when he claws a key too hard, he tries spelling things out on the floor in Legos but a sleepy Emmet accidentally steps on it barefooted and falls on it, etc.. Now Ingo is beyond frustrated and has remembered what a dry-erase board is. He goes up to Emmet, who is busy being sad on the couch.)

“Emmet! Emmet, get up!”

(Ingo makes chittery Sneasel noises at Emmet. Emmet is too caught up in mourning. Ingo decides he’s done playing.)

Ingo takes a deep breath, bracing himself before he grabs the whiteboard and bonks Emmet’s skull with it.

“Gah!!” Emmet yelps as his eyes fly open, jerking in surprise so hard he pitches himself off the couch and lands on his face.

As Emmet lets out a muffled groan, Ingo feels his ear twitch in annoyance at the scene before him.

“What the heck? What’s gotten into—?”

Ingo sits perched on the couch, holding up his whiteboard with the message:

EMMET STOP BEING SAD I’M HERE

“Ingo…?” (Emmet stares in dull shock)

(Ingo nods emphatically)

“Is it really…?” (Emmet’s face goes from dawning joy to abruptly overcome by indignant rage as the last few days of moping catch up with him) “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

(Ingo doesn’t get his reaction until the deep instinct of sibling rage takes hold of him too and he scribbles out an equally pissy message)

I TRIED YOU DIDN'T LISTEN

Emmet sputters in fury at him.

“You should’ve tried harder!!!” he snaps.

Ingo taps on the last three words on the board, one at a time, growling pointedly.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONE!!” Emmet shoots back in a volume that could rival Ingo’s on his best day, “I WAS SURE OF IT!”

(Ingo gets angrier)

I DIDN’T DO IT ON PURPOSE

Emmet throws his arms up and screams, “You asshole!! I just want to hug you and strangle you at the same time!”

Ingo’s ears are flat against his head, unable to contain his loud growl as he sloppily scribbles his words as fast as he can to express the inexplicable rage taking hold of him. The second he finishes he throws the marker down and thrusts the board at Emmet with a furious squeak.

SAME YOU DINGUS

Emmet sputters at him, his jaw working furiously, trying to come up with a response. As he stands there fuming, there’s a shift in the timbre of his breathing, going from fast and shallow to something thicker and choked.

“…it really is you.”

His breath hitches as he chokes back a sob, his strength seeming to fail him as he falls to his knees, staring at Ingo with hope blooming in his eyes.

Whatever anger Ingo had been feeling in that moment fizzles out as just quickly as it arrived. It’s enough to leave him reeling in confusion as he limps up to Emmet.

What is happening? Why does this rollercoaster of emotions feel so natural? As if they’ve done this sort of routine before?

Ingo rests his claws on Emmet’s hand, looking up at him in worry. Emmet just laughs wetly, struggling to hold back his tears as he covers his mouth,

“You never call me that unless you are verrry angry. Remember?”

Ingo very much does not. He grumbles in frustration and writes out another message.

MEMORY BAD HAVE AMNESIA SORRY

“It’s… jeez, it’s so stupid. Grandpa thought we were nuts. ‘You two scream and fight and now you’re hugging and crying. Oy, I give up!’” he quoted in a perfect imitation of their grandfather’s accent.

A faint memory flashes of the utterly vicious knock down, drag out fights that he and Emmet would sometimes get into as they grew up. While these incidents were rare, they were screaming, clawing, punching, biting affairs that resulted in trips to the hospital more than once.*

* (There was the time Emmet kicked him down the stairs, knocking out his two front baby teeth which he then accidentally swallowed. There was a time when he managed to smash one of their toys over Emmet’s head so hard he needed several stitches to close the wound. They could be mean as kids.

But every time, they ended the same way: hugging and sobbing on each other, wailing apologies between their tears, snot, and blood.)

“So, amnesia?” Emmet asks softly. He raises a hand to Ingo’s cheek, thumb brushing over his soft fur as he traces his facial markings. “Is that why you could not signal me until now?”

TRIED TO SIGNAL YOU FOR DAYS BUT YOUR HEAD WAS UP YOUR ASS

Emmet lets out a graceless snort, “Yeah, I guess I deserve that.”

(…)