month of ingo day 20: lost
Angst, mildly inspired by the story of Orpheus (y'all know which part), around \~700 words.
He’s sitting in the subway tunnels, Train Fire at his side, and he is not crying.
It’s been months since he cried. He should probably be crying more, but he can’t let himself, because he doesn’t know what he’s crying for, and that’s not exactly rational, is it?
It’s dark here. Nice. Familiar.
The tunnels are his favorite place to be - all the sneasels running around at his feet, and Lady Sneasler guiding him. His eyes adjust quicker than others’ and he is proud of this. He sometimes wonders where this trait came from.
There’s a flash of white down the tunnel, and a horn blaring.
Yelling, pointing. All aboard! Bravo! These phrases are his and his alone - no one could understand them to want to take them from him. He has a whole world to himself that no one knows about and he hates it. It’s no fun without a second person. The secrets shared, the inside jokes… He misses it.
“Who are you?” a voice asks, and he jumps.
“I am Ingo,” he says. His frown deepens. “That’s not quite right. I apologize.”
“I am-” He can’t make out what the man (where did he come from? Why can’t Ingo make him out?) says. “And you are lying.”
“Where am I?” Ingo asks.
The man shakes his head. “Ingo would know where he was, so you are not him.” Tears fall to the floor but Ingo doesn’t know whose they are.
“I am,” he says, “and I’m lost. Please help me.”
“I have to help Ingo,” the man says.
“Who are you?” Ingo asks.
The man pulls his shoulders up and takes a step back, into the light of Train Fire’s flames. Ingo can see his face now.
In the early days of his acquaintanceship with Miss Akari, they had plenty of conversations - the specific one he remembers now is that she told him that he reminded her of someone, but she didn’t know who.
He told her about the man who liked winning more than anything, the partner who wielded flames with mastery.
She said that she remembered someone who looked just like him but cleaner, and he laughed.
Now, he understands.
The man is crying. Ingo stands up and reaches out. “Who are you?” he asks again. It seems to echo in the empty tunnel.
“I am Emmet,” the - Emmet - replies. “Are you really Ingo?”
Ingo nods. “I am.”
Emmet sniffles, and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping away the tears.
Ingo steps forward and hugs him, and the handkerchief falls to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he tells Emmet. “I’m so sorry.” What else would he say? ‘I’m sorry for not being who you think’? ‘I remember you’? He won’t lie to someone so obviously grieving.
“You really are Ingo,” Emmet mutters, and Ingo hugs him tighter. It’s safe and warm. “This feels just like one of his hugs, but stronger.”
“I am Ingo,” he affirms.
The other man laughs.
“That’s my line,” Emmet says, before stepping back. “Do you want to go home?”
Ingo nods.
“Alright,” Emmet says. He smiles, spins, and points, just like Ingo does. “Chandelure, lead the way.”
The chandelure chimes something to Emmet, looking concerned.
Emmet just laughs, and starts walking.
Ingo follows, because what else is there to do?
They do not talk.
This might have been the reason why, three minutes later, Ingo sees Emmet’s head turning.
Train Fire’s flames blaze violet and red, a warning, but Emmet looks back.
Before the two can even make eye contact, Ingo is gone again.
He wakes up.
The blanket slides off his chest as he picks up his dream journal, and grabs for his pen.
He can’t find it.
The dream is slipping away already and he can’t find his pen.
He - Emmet! He found the man he’s been dreaming of. Emmet. Why did you look back, Emmet? Why?
The night is cold; the sun is just a sliver of orange on the horizon. A scream sounds through the tunnels, driving out a startled colony of bats.
Ingo is sobbing into his blanket, lost for a second time.