AN: This is a pretty old fic, one of my first after a long break in writing. I weeded out most of the mistakes I think, and I made a few revisions. I'm still trying to figure out this site so bear with me here!

Now let's get started

Ingo trots down the stairs, his new shoes clopping loudly on the polished wood. He jumps down the last two, landing with a wobble and a squeal of fright.

Papa laughs, ruffling his silvery hair once he got his balance. "Easy there, killer." Ingo pushes his much larger hands away, trying to fix his hair again. "If you're gonna get hurt, do it on the playground, okay?" He flashes his son a thumbs up. "That way we can blame it on other kids."

Ingo nods, copying the gesture. "Okay, papa."

Papa grins big. "That's my boy- ouch!"

"How many times have I told you not to tell them things like that?" Mama asks, pulling on Papa's ear with what looks like all of her strength. "One day we're going to get a call from the principle, or worse."

"Ahhh! Mama!" Papa rubs his ear when she lets go, pouting. "I was just playing! Ingo didn't take me seriously, did you?" He asks, winking to the 6-year-old.

Ingo shakes his head, tucking his thumbs under his backpack straps. "Nu-uh." Mama rolls her stormy eyes, but she smiles too.

"Is Emmet almost ready? You two will miss the bus if you don't hurry." Ingo shrugs, following Mama into the kitchen to get their lunchboxes. She reaches into the fridge and pulls out two tin boxes, one white; one black. "Go run this up to him," Ingo takes one in each hand, listening intently. "And make sure he comes back down with you."

"Yes, Mama." He takes off up the stairs, shoes and lunchboxes clunking on the way up. The older twin skids to a stop in front of their room, pushing the half-closed door open. Emmet doesn't bother to look back from his position by the full-length mirror propped up against the wall. "Emmet, we're gonna miss the bus if you don't hurry." Ingo walks toward him, holding out the white lunchbox. "Mama packed our lunches today."

Emmet turns on is heel, his usual grin plastered on his face. "What did she make?" Ingo shrugs again, reaching to touch the bags forming beneath his brother's eyes.

"Did you not sleep good last night?" He asks, frowning. Emmet shakes his head, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

"Nope. Emmet is verrrry tired today." Emmet takes the box, holding it tight.

"Ingo."

"Iiiiiiiingo."

"Brother!"

Ingo sits upright, startled by the loud voice. "Huh?" He looks over to see Emmet standing beside his bed, tugging at the hem of his nightshirt. "Emmet? What's wrong?" The younger twin doesn't lift his head.

"Can Emmet sleep here tonight?" He murmurs, still rolling the end of his shirt between his fingers. Ingo scoots to the side, wrapping his arms around Emmet's shoulders after he had sat down. Emmet leans into him, putting one arm around his brother's back.

"What's wrong, bro?" Emmet was usually sound asleep by now; both of the boys were. The younger of the two was always grinning and happy about the tiniest things, giggling between sentences or humming a meaningless peppy tune. However, Ingo was his almost his exact opposite; he was a much more serious and laid back child, preferring to stay behind the scenes and to just let Emmet handle big group situations. Ingo pulls his blanket around them, rocking slowly from side to side. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No," Emmet sighs, tucking his head under Ingo's chin. "I can't sleep."

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "Emm…" He pauses. "I don't like school that much, Ingo. They say Em- I talk funny, and make fun of me." Ingo squeezes him tighter when he hears a sniffle. "They keep saying my hair is weird and my nose is really big." He reaches up to lightly touch the tip of his nose before he lifts his head, tears welling in the corners of his big grey eyes. "Why do they say stuff like that?"

Ingo wipes the tears away with a corner of the blanket. "I dunno..." He murmurs, sighing softly. "Some kids are mean because they think it's funny when we get upset." He strokes Emmet's hair when he rests his head on his shoulder. "They say mean things to me too, Emmet. Remember what Mama and Papa said?"

"That they only say that stuff 'cuz they don't like those things about them." Emmet yawns, snuggling into his brother. "And Papa said we can kick them if they get too mean."

Ingo laughs a little. "I don't think he was being serious." There's a beat of quiet. "I like the way you talk, Emmet. Mama and Papa do too."

"But why don't the kids at school?" Emmet almost growls, gripping Ingo's shirt tightly. "They never make fun of the way Ingo talks; the teachers don't tell you you're wrong." His shoulders heave once with a heavy sob. "They don't tell you anything since you're better than Emmet." He trails off in a whisper, rubbing at his eyes to try to stop the tears from falling.

Ingo shakes his head, hugging his little brother tight. "Don't say that. We're the same." Emmet looks up, a confused look on his face. Ingo leans over to his bedside table and switches the lamp on, both of them squinting in the bright light. "See?" He lifts one of his hands and one of Emmet's. "We have the same hands," He pulls his hand back and reaches for his twin's hair, ruffling it. "Same hair, same eyes," He leans in and touches noses with him. "The same nose, too."

Emmet cracks a tiny smile and giggles, and Ingo's smile grows. "We have the same laugh too." Emmet pulls away from the hug, flipping the blanket away. He stretches his skinny legs, and Ingo does the same.

"And the same toes!" He sings, and the two lapse into a giggle fit after watching their toes wiggle together. After a few minutes, they catch their breath and smile at each other, sitting close.

Emmet breaks the comfortable quiet with a sigh, reaching for Ingo's hand. "But… Our faces aren't the same." Ingo blinks, pursing his lips.

"Huh?"

Emmet lets go of his hand and reaches for his face, pressing his index fingers to the corners of his mouth and pushing up; making his brother smile. "Big brother doesn't smile like Emmet does." His smile falters for a moment. "Different."

They stay like that until Ingo reaches to take Emmet's hands in his own. "You're right." He gives them a squeeze, kissing his forehead when he rests his head on his shoulder once more. "Mmm."

Emmet slides into a laying position, pulling up the thick blanket while Ingo shuts the light off. The twins curl up together, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads touching. "You'll be okay," Ingo whispers, cuddling his twin close. "I promise."

He gets a soft whimper and a tighter hug in reply, and gives Emmet another kiss on top of his head.

"G'night, Emmet."

"Night, Ingo."

They shut their eyes and yawn in unison, snuggling under the blankets before drifting off.

Ingo fixes his backpack straps again. "You can sleep on the bus; we have to go-"Emmet cuts him off, pressing his fingers to the corners of his mouth, copying what they had done the night before.

"You said," He begins, his voice shaking almost as badly as his smile. "That we were the same, right? That means it's hard to say who is who, right?"

"Erryshing esep fer owur fayshus," Ingo mumbles around his fingers before pushing his hands away. "Why are you asking again?" He frowns when he sees tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, the liquid flows down his cheeks, falling with a soft plop to the wooden floor.

"I don't think I can be Emmet today," His shaky hands reach up and touch his wet cheeks. "My smiles don't… they don't feel good today." Ingo shivers, it was unsettling to see his normally happy brother so upset. He grits his teeth when his knees started to wobble, closing the space between them with one step.

"Okay!" Emmet looks up, jumping at the feel of two finger pulling his mouth down. He looks up at his brother, taking in the cheerful grin stretching from ear to ear. "I can be Emmet today," Ingo takes his hands back, switching their lunchboxes. "But Ingo can't cry anymore, okay?"

Emmet stands still for a moment, clutching the black lunchbox to his chest. "M-Mm-hmm." He wipes his eyes quickly, putting on Ingo's backpack while he gave his to him.

They race down the hall, and almost run into Papa at the top of the stairs. "Woah there!" He laughs, ruffling their hair in each hand. "There you are, Emmet!" Ingo's stomach flips and he steals a glance at his brother. It worked."Sure took you long enough," Papa turns to Emmet, and his smile drops. "Are you okay, Ingo?"

Emmet nods, grabbing the straps of his backpack. "Uh-huh." The boys reach for their father's hands, walking down the hall quietly.

Papa looks down to him. "Are your allergies acting up? We have medicine you can take; your eyes are watering pretty badly." Emmet shakes his head, reaching with his free hand to wipe his nose. Papa snickers and shakes his head. "Way to go, kid. Make sure you don't do that in school, Ingo. The teachers won't like it if you mess up your uniform. That goes for you too, Emmet."

"Okay Papa!" Ingo beams up at his father, then sneaks a softer, reassuring smile to his twin, and gets a similar expression in reply. He starts to swing his arms back and forth while they walk, easily keeping up the charade to keep his younger brother happy.

How do you end things