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legobiwan · 5 months ago

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“Please don’t let me be alone.”

“I’m right here, okay?”

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” Mario and Luigi.

(Completely 100% platonic. That last one can be them talking about things changing for them in the romance department, and worrying that's going to pull them away from each other. Just as an example. )

I decided to take this in a slightly different direction, anon :)

So, a bit of context. This takes place pre-SPM, but there's some foreshadowing in there, so probably a month or two before that whole series of events goes down.

While I know Luigi and Mario talk, we have evidence that Luigi keeps some things from his brother, mostly related to his more negative emotions, as shown in the diary scenes of Paper Mario 64. I kind of run a little bit with this idea here.

As to what Luigi is looking for in terms of love...I'll let you all decide. I'll say upfront that this is written as a purely platonic relationship between Luigi and Mario, and I know exactly who I am thinking of in those last lines, but that's - literally - another story.

Very little editing has been done here, caveat lector and all that jazz.

Also, poor Morel. He's trying. Probably too hard. You'll meet him soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Mario!”

The owner of the squeaky voice toddled up the path towards them, his small stature unbalanced by the large guitar strapped to his back, the neck of which seesawed with every step.

“Hi, there!” Mario greeted, the Toad letting out a small oomph as he half-collapsed against Mario’s side, hands on his knees, his ruby-red vest soaked with sweat.

Luigi really hoped the kid wouldn’t keel over this time.��

“Do - “ Morel panted, taking a large swallow before trying again. “Do you have a minute?”

At this point, it was part of their routine. He and his brother would decide to run an errand in the town, maybe check out one of their favorite spots. Let’s pick up some cherry juice from that cafe or Hey, how about we go to that market and see if the new sports equipment is in, his brother would say airily, as if it was going to be a quick thing, an easy jaunt into Mushroom Square and back home before the mail came.

These days, it was never a quick thing. Not with his brother around, at least. What had been maybe a weekly occurrence had exploded into a near-daily even, the denizens of the Mushroom Kingdom stopping to ask his brother for a picture, or an autograph, or even a piece of advice in relation to plumbing, mechanics, or even relationships.

As if being the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom made Mario some kind of expert in psychology.

Of course, this meant everyday chores that would have taken no more than ten minutes in Brooklyn bloated into an all-day activity, his brother unable to turn down the beaming faces and adulation of the Mushroom citizenry. In the end, Luigi had taken full control over the majority of the domestic duties in their shared house, if for no other reason than the fact he could get to the market and back in a reasonable amount of time.

No one ever stopped Luigi to ask for advice. Not usually, and if they did, it was quick and usually in relation to either his brother or, oddly enough, King Boo, whose name had become as synonymous with Luigi’s as the whispered commentary of “coward” and “oddball” that trailed him like toilet paper stuck on a shoe.

Most of the time, the Toads wanted to know what it was like being trapped in the painting, what horrors he saw there, if it was the afterlife, or something similar. Luigi had given up on trying to correct them after the first few times, giving out uninspired answers like “dark and scary,” which seemed to both placate the Mushroom Kingdom residents’ thirst for grisly gossip and align with their internal schema for who they thought Luigi was.

It didn’t matter, in the end. He had saved his brother. Twice. The health and safety of everyone involved was more important than his ego.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from occasionally daydreaming about King Boo attacking the Mushroom Kingdom, just so Luigi could prove a point

“You know, Morel,” Luigi said, shaking thoughts of Toads screaming for his help from his mind, “we were on our way to pick up some - “

“It’s okay, Lou,” Mario interrupted with a brisk wave. “Shop doesn’t close for another hour and I’m sure Morel won’t take too much of our time.

Luigi was sure the opposite would be true, but far be it from him to be the bad guy and tell Morel to come back later. His reputation in the Mushroom Kingdom was dicey enough as it was - he wasn’t to exacerbate things by being mean to a teen Toad.

As Morel and his brother talked, Luigi let his thoughts wander. He nixed their shopping list, weighing the pros and cons of raiding the back of the cupboard for whatever dregs of food they had left. He wondered if Mario even remembered who Morel was, watching his brother make the appropriate gestures and smiling widely, that glimmer of recognition absent in his brother’s expression. He couldn’t really blame Mario, not for that. How many times can you be asked for an autograph or advice before all those faces blurred together? Even Luigi couldn’t always keep them straight, and he had a lot more time to quietly observe and register his brother’s admirers.

Morel, however, was not to be forgotten. The last time he had accosted them, he had wanted to show off one of his many creative endeavors, this time an hour-long, abstruse interpretative dance performance that was somehow supposed to help with diplomatic relations at an upcoming summit between the Mushroom Kingdom and the Yoshis.

Five minutes in, Mario’s eyes had glazed over. Ten minutes in and three pirouetting Piranhas later, Luigi found himself mentally running over a table for standard thermodynamic values in select substances. Carbon was always the hard one. Way too many possibilities.

Luigi bit the inside of his cheek, bringing his attention back to the conversation.

“So Mario,” Morel unsheathed his guitar from his back, pulling a crumpled piece of paper with multiple strikeouts from his pocket. “Have you ever liked a girl? Like, liked like?”

Luigi choked down a laugh. The Romeo of Room 312. That’s what he had called his brother back in middle school, who pined after a different girl every week. Vanessa Tuccio, Jackie Galagio, Stephanie Rizzo. None of them gave his brother the time of day, Mario still being in that awkward stage where he hadn’t made up for his lack of height with an abundance of muscle, his voice teetering somewhere between squeaky laryngitis and the hoarse, nasal tenor of a common cold.

By the time they hit high school (and Mario’s voice had finally dropped), that all changed, his brother doing pretty well himself in the dating department, at least as far as Luigi could tell. They weren’t as close those years, with he and Mario at different schools, Luigi buried in a mountain of chemistry and physics textbooks while his brother hung out with his jock friends at a ratty gym on 86th Street.

But he had taken a nice girl to prom. Had had a few breakups, some of them Mario’s fault. All what Luigi assumed was normal teenage stuff.

Not that he really knew.

Luigi had tried dating a few girls in high school, girls with long hair, glasses, and a religious devotion to the periodic table. Nothing ever went past the clammy hand-holding stage and one very awkward kiss over a smuggled bottle of cheap wine on the Coney Island boardwalk, each girl in question giving him a polite brush-off after a week or two, only to attach themselves to some other guy who somehow seemed to know how to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Frankly, it was a miracle Luigi had lost his virginity at all by the time he graduated, his new-found, reckless courage bolstered by the death of his father and the whole shitstorm with the family business being ripped out from under their noses. He had barely finished senior year, whatever motivation he had once had to claw himself out of Bensonhurst and into Cooper Union whisked away once he was faced with the reality of being a seventeen year old orphan staring down a mountain of unpaid bills and a deceased father who may or may not have owed favors to the mob.

From that point onwards, he and Mario were focused on survival, on running a third-rate plumbing business out of a second-rate studio, Luigi elbows-deep in the guts of their father’s van more often than not, neither he nor Mario willing or able to shell out the cash for an actual mechanic. It was tenuous and relentless, and there was no way either of them had the energy or capacity to think about something as banal as dating when creditors and loan sharks were breathing down their neck every five days.

And then - their lives had been turned upside-down once again.

The concept of dating in the Mushroom Kingdom was laughable, and Luigi had resigned himself to a monastic existence while they figured out a way back to Brooklyn. There were so few humans around and it was clear from the outset that there something was going on between his brother and Peach, even if it had never advanced beyond hugs that lasted a few seconds too long to be called friendly and doe-eyed glances cast across the long tables of the the palace dining room.

Which left Luigi the odd man out, a situation he was overly-familiar with in this new world, his brother the famous hero of the Kingdom and Luigi himself an afterthought, at best. And sure, he had met a few other human women - smart, funny, beautiful human women who seemed to like talking with him, who, against all odds, found him genuinely interesting.

But despite his brother egging him on, Luigi couldn’t quite find the motivation to try and turn that friendly flirting into anything more. Sure, Daisy was amazing and a force of nature. And Princess Eclair had been utterly captivating, to the point where Luigi wondered if she was some kind of enchantress. But for all of that, there was something missing, something he couldn’t quite make fit, a niggle in the back of his brain with his father’s voice, telling him to hit the gym, to put down his books and stop wearing those colorful socks or else he was going to get a reputation - the kind of reputation that ended with a fist in your face in a Brooklyn Heights Promenade bathroom.

There was something else, something more he wanted. But he was damned if was going to find it in the Mushroom Kingdom, and with the likelihood of them ever getting back to Brooklyn diminishing with each passing year - well, those monks didn’t have too bad a life, right?

“Okay, okay, are you guys ready?” Morel had sat himself on a small boulder, motioning for Luigi and Mario to follow suit. With his audience in place, the teen Toad strummed a few chords on his guitar, reaching up to adjust the tuning, then strumming again, then tuning, a process which took at least five minutes. Luigi was no musician, but even he was pretty sure Morel was just stalling at this point.

“Alright,” Morel sighed, breathy. “So, there’s this girl, right? And she’s really pretty. And I want to impress her, like, really impress her. She’s all into this band,” Morel’s face twisted, “Lion’s Mane and their front Toad is super cool and good-looking. I figure I can win her over if I show I can sing just as good as him, if I can write my own songs and everything! So here we go.”

Morel straightened, his small fingers digging into spaces above and below the frets. He took a large breath from his nose, held it, and then began play.

“Please don’t let me be alone.

I’ll talk to you on the phone.

I lose my spores,

When you walk on through those doors.

I’m right here, okay?

Right on the Mushroom Way.

It’s my time to say,

Chanterelle, you’re so swell!”

With a florid movement, Morel ran his thumb over the strings for the final chord, a broken set of notes that reminded Luigi of a dying carburetor he once tried to fix in his racing kart. Next to him, his brother’s smile was plastered on so tight Luigi thought his face might break in two if he tried any harder.

“So what do you think, Mario? Do you think Chanterelle will date me?”

His brother’s eyes went wide, Mario’s smile growing even larger as he drummed his fingers on the knee of his pants.

“I think,” Luigi offered, taking pity on his brother, “you put a lot of effort into this and Chanterelle will certainly be…surprised.”

Morel bounced up and down on his heels. “Do you think she’ll feel the love in this song?”

Luigi side-eyed his brother, who looked about one misplaced word away from bursting out in laughter. A small, vindictive part of Luigi wanted to pop the perfect persona his brother had cultivated, wanted the image of the hero be brought down to the level of the man he knew his brother was.

But looking at Morel’s shimmering eyes, the open admiration glowing from his small body - Luigi knew wasn’t going to do that to him.

“You’ve certainly shown us what love can look like,” Luigi said, diplomatic. “And sound like.” Like you need a mechanic, he thought.

Morel punched the air. “Yes! Oh boy! Thank you! Thank you, Mario, you’re the best! I’m gonna go find Chanterelle right now!” The teen toad scrambled to get his guitar on his back, setting off in the direction of the Town Center, looking back every few seconds to give enthusiastic waves.

Mario let out a small laugh. “Thanks for the save, bro.”

“Eh,” Luigi shrugged. “I didn’t say anything untrue. He certainly demonstrated what love could be.”

“I just hope she lets him down easy. It’s a rough age for that stuff, human or Toad.”

Luigi hummed in response, looking out over the emerald-green hills that dotted the path to the Town Center. It was probably a rough age for that stuff at any age, trying to navigate love - to know another person and let them know you.

“Hey Mario. While we’re on the topic, what about you and - “

“Still want to go to the market, Lou?” Mario asked, the slightest tremor of panic in his voice. Luigi had been trying, without success, to get his brother to open up about the whole situation with him and Peach had been trying to get him to shed the persona that was slowly taking over his everyday existence. Not that Mario was being mean or deliberately distant. He was still his brother, they still talked together, laughed together, occasionally cried together. But Luigi still couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed. Something about the way Mario’s focus drifted every time they met up in Rogueport, or how he had come out of that painting the second time, vigorously shaking Luigi’s hand like he was running for political office.

Luigi gave a silent nod, picking up his tote bag from the ground before following his brother’s lead, starting off in the direction of the town

Then again, maybe it was for the best. If Mario didn’t have to tell Luigi about his private life, then Luigi wouldn’t have to share his, wouldn’t have to get into the creeping insecurities and resentment that clouded parts of his existence in the Mushroom Kingdom. Wouldn’t have to explain that he didn’t know what love looked like, at least not the love he thought he was seeking, the part of him that craved understanding, with being known, unconditionally.

He had his brother. They were alive, healthy, and together. It would have to be enough.

#hello there #writing #luigi #mario #the eternal struggle #this one got kind of weird real fast #anyway i have headcanons GALORE #also i know exactly what the song sounds like musically #there's a nice major III chord in there amongst the typical pop I IV V IV I structure #don't let the musician write songs in stories this is what happens :D #i'm catching up on those prompts!!!!

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