Here's my new story. This will be centered on Luigi/Daisy and some one-sided Bowser/Peach. It might seem angsty and slow at first, but I have to set the stage and mold the characters appropriately. I'm telling you now, it will be very dark and will deal with issues such as depression (only a bit), obsession, and torture. I'm taking the Mario-verse and twisting it with this cruel tale, so if any of this offends you or puts you off, stop reading.

Or, read it anyway and rant all about it in a review!

Hopefully this won't be a cliche story in general. If it is, don't hesitate to tell me so! Reviews and criticism are most welcome. With all that being said, on with the story!

Enjoy!

Chapter One

I got a letter. It came in the mail yesterday, I picked it after my shift last night. It was a shock since nobody's written me in months. Also because it looked pretty expensive as far as letters went; the envelope was a bright, pristine eggshell white. It had my address scribbled crookedly across the center had but no return one. I turned it over in my hands and popped open the golden wax seal. There was a slip of parchment folded inside. I tentatively pulled it out. It was crisp to the touch and faintly scented: I knew that flowery scent. It was painfully familiar to me. It smelled like her. I ignored the prickling behind my eyes and unfolded the paper carefully. Once I read through it twice I realized it was an invitation. My brother was getting married in four days and he wanted me to be there. He wanted me as his best man. He said that he was sorry for the short notice and that he'd enclosed a train ticket in the envelope for me for tomorrow afternoon. It would make him so happy, he said, if his brother came through for him on his big day.

Well whoopdee fucking doo.

I haven't heard from my brother in God knows when. The last time I saw him was over two years ago. We had just finished a successful mission saving the Mushroom Kingdom and rescuing...her. It was all going well and Mario and I were about to head home until she decided to throw a feast in 'our' honor; I wasn't daft, not even then. I knew that Mario was the real hero, I was just riding in his shadow. It was hardly fair since I always put in more than my share of work during missions and on several occasions I saved him from dire situations. I never got much, if any, credit for all that. It was fine though, I didn't hold it against him or anyone else. I attended the feast and sat on his left and listened and watched as he effortlessly hit it off with...her. Then when it came time for us to leave, she decided to make a 'modest' proposal. She claimed that it would be in the best interest of her people if Mario stayed in Mushroom Kingdom from then on. That way, he wouldn't have to come running every time the city was attacked; this would cut down on time wasted in his having to prepare his gear and get there, thus saving countless lives. Of course Mario agreed, he hadn't given it a second thought. He had asked me to stay with them, to live in the palace in one of the many guest rooms but I declined. I could see where things were rapidly going between my brother and the woman I'd loved for years. I came home. I told him I'd be alright. He was too love-struck to see the signs: I wasn't okay, I was grieving. But I had to give him a little slack, I hid my pain well so that no one would ever see. In fact, I'm almost certain neither he nor she knew about the feelings I harbored for so long.

But once I got home, I could hide the pain no longer. I can trace the steps of my descent into depression quite clearly now that it's over. It had to have started with my arrival back in Brooklyn. I was real torn up about them getting together but I stuffed the feelings inside as per usual. I tried to go on living normally, pretending nothing had changed. I took calls and went on jobs and tried to keep the house up but all to no avail. There was only so much I could take. Our business, it was called Mario Brothers for a reason; it wasn't a one-man job. The hectic hours, along with Scapelli taking advantage of the situation, overwhelmed me. I ended up letting the whole thing go. Which meant I had to find another form of work. After a couple of months I did, but it didn't pay nearly enough to keep the lights and water on, not at the same time at least.

I lost the house.

The one Mario and I had lived in all our lives, the one he raised me in. I lost it. I couldn't make ends meet, I was barely eating with the salary I was pulling. So I had to let it go. After I moved out with little more than the clothes on my back, I lived in my car for a few weeks looking for another place. It was rough but still I convinced myself it wasn't the end of the world. I found an apartments complex that rented for cheap and jumped on it. I found out the hard way that there was a good reason it was so inexpensive: It was shitty. Really shitty. Just like my car. Just like my job. Just like my life. It wasn't until after I'd moved into that hellhole that I realized this. And realization slapped me hard. No matter how hard I worked it wasn't enough to do more than pay rent and insurance and keep my car running despite its frequent inconsistencies. The little money I did have left over sometimes went towards food for the month and the occasional coat or new pair of shoes as the seasons changed. It was a horrible way to live and it wasn't long before things started falling apart.

Losing the literal woman of my dreams had taken its toll on my heart, as did losing my childhood home, my big brother, my sense of normalcy. I had nothing to hold onto and nothing to keep myself anchored when those horrid, dark thoughts bombarded my mind. I gave in to the darkness, I succumbed to the urge to just end it all. I was at an all time low and was hardly thinking properly. Otherwise I would've known it wasn't so bad as I made it out to be. But as it was a melancholic fog had overtaken reason and I was weak. I drove my car to the downtown pharmacy instead of back to my apartment that fateful, thoughtful night after I'd gotten off a particularly demeaning shift at my job. Coincidentally it'd been raining. I parked my car and dug through the cluttered dashboard for some change. Then I went in and bought a bottle of over the counter pain pills. They were very cheap but a handful of them nearly did the trick. When I woke up again, many days later, I was in a hospital bed fighting the taste of medicinal charcoal and hooked up to an IV. They told me my landlord carted me there. Rent was due a few days ago and my landlord was a real stickler when it came to his money. I was no longer surprised at the lengths he'd go to in order to get it. He must've saw the pills, otherwise it would've just looked like I was asleep in bed. I was sloppy. If I'd put the bottle away and maybe slept in my car that night, no one would've ever found me. I would've succeeded. I would've died.

I'm glad I didn't.

After I was assessed and discharged, I was prescribed some strong medication. I stuck by it at first, I kept my appointments and I saw the shrink regularly. I had to or my landlord would evict me;

Get some help, kid, you're a liability, and I can't have a liability on my hands.

That's what he said. But after a year and a half my appointments had dwindled down to none a week and all I had to do was keep up with my medicine. I did of course, I liked what they did for me. Besides the weird dreams I have while on them, they're good at keeping me afloat over my problems. They take my mind off of them I guess so I don't go under again. I've been doing well and coping with the depression, that's what I was diagnosed with. I even started making goals for myself. I had this one where I'd save up my extra money from work and use it to go back to school. I'd get a degree in engineering, it was something I could tell I'd be good at, and then I'd graduate and get a nice paying job. A good house would come next. Then a better car. Somewhere along the way, I'd get over her and maybe...no. That was above the limits of even my own imagination. I just didn't see myself getting over her anytime soon. I also didn't see my low-end job yielding enough money to put me through school before I'm forty either, but I had to maintain that hope so I didn't fall back into that downward spiral. I had to do what I could to get by. And I was getting by.

Until today.

That letter brought back all those negative emotions to the surface again. The jealousy was there, I had to admit. My big brother had it all, after all. And then the love unrequited. It hurt. The letter and the news of those two getting married rehashed all the things I stashed inside from so long ago. But I wouldn't dwell on it. Not this time. I had to get on with my life. I couldn't think about it, not right now. Thankfully, those numbing pills wouldn't let me.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. With my head bowed low all I could see was the dull hardwood floor and my own bare feet. I looked up and over to my hand, the one that held the letter. The damning letter that had me out of sorts.

"Congratulations, bro." I whispered with a sad parody of a smile.

I reached over and grabbed the envelope from the nightstand beside my bed. Stuffing the letter that was folded in thirds back into the white container, I set the invitation back onto the cherry oak nightstand's surface next to the faux-gold lamp. Very tiredly I stood from my bed and stretched until the white t-shirt rose over my stomach. Time to start the day.

I turned round and began to make my bed. I pulled the navy sheets over the mattress methodically and straightened out my pillows over the comforter. When that was done, I shoved my feet into my black worn loafers and scratched the back of my neck. The room was small enough so that I could get to my dresser in only two strides from the bed. A rectangular navy rug separated the area between the bed, which was against the far wall, and the door opposite it. My dresser was of the same grade of oak as my nightstand and it creaked a bit when I yanked the top drawer open. I dully gathered my underwear and socks for the day and closed it back. From the dresser I walked backwards to my closet. Another space in the apartment that was much too small. It was situated next to the window that hung above the bed behind heavy black curtains. I stepped in front of the foot of my bed and opened the closet, pulling my black uniform pants and slim polo of their hangers before shutting the crooked door behind me.

In the hall across from the tiny bathroom was a closet where I kept my towels on the middle shelf, some bottles of cleaning solution and other supplies on the floor beneath it, and erroneous things on the top shelf. I grabbed a big and small towel and shut that door so that I could turn and walk into the bathroom. I laid my clothes and towels in a pile on the back of the commode and took my blue toothbrush from the cup on the sink. Under the gushing faucet I held it, then coated its bristles with plain white paste. I shoved the stick into my mouth and scrubbed languidly. Once that chore was finished, I placed everything back in its place and stepped over to the tub.

I had to bend over and fidget with the knobs so that the water wasn't too hot or too freezing cold. After I pulled the lever on the spout I pulled the clear curtain across the length of the bathtub. My clothes I stripped and folded neatly, just my pleated fleece pants and white t-shirt: those were my pajamas for the week. I laid the bundle on the edge of the sink and stepped under the downpour. For a moment I let the warm spray calm my nerves and soak me. Then I bathed myself ritualistically, starting with my neck and working my way down.

Having shut off the water and dragged the curtain out of the way, I stepped out of the tub onto the dark blue bath rug and let it swallow my damp feet while I dried off. I dressed quickly and stood in front of the mirror to comb my hair. My hair was nice, it was thick and black and fell to my shoulders in faint waves. The black comb I had on next to the 'cold' knob on the sink glided easily through those locks. I only combed it in a way that kept it out of my eyes. My eyes were nice, too. They were a clear light blue color. Above them were my eyebrows, thin but not incredibly so. Down between them was my nose, kind of sharp but straight, not too big like my brother's, although my skin was paler than the thirty-two year old's. I knew I wasn't ugly. If the women I encountered at work and their generous tips were any indication, I'd say I was pretty attractive. But it wasn't their attention I sought, it was that of another. Those women couldn't compare to her regal beauty.

I blew out a sigh at that and popped the mirror door open. Behind it were empty shelves, save for one that held an orange bottle with white labeling. I reached for it, twisted its top and dropped a tiny white oval into my palm. With the bottle back on its shelf I swung the mirror back in place and swallowed the pill with a handful of water from the sink. The water dripped from my mouth and slipped down my chin. I caught it with the back of my sleeve and turned the light off on my way out of the bathroom.

I trudged down the hall and passed my sparsely decorated living room of two black love seats, a ratty coffee table in front of them, and a blank wall behind them. On the other side was nothing, just more blank wall. The wall gave way to the small area where a glass and metal dinette set was pushed away next to the window, hardly used. Then there was the kitchen, small and only consisting of a sink and dishwasher on one side and a fridge, a slice of countertop where the microwave was wedged, and a stove on the other. There wasn't much space but that was fine. Most of my meals were microwaveable anyway. Not that I couldn't cook, I just couldn't afford to get anything nice like I used to living with Mario.

Like I did most mornings I chose to skip breakfast and just get something to eat on my break at work. I stopped, then went back to my room and got my belt and black trainers from my closet, as well as my work hat and black leather jacket. It was perhaps the only thing that really fit me well. From my nightstand I took out my nametag and clipped it onto my shirt. I looked at the letter lying innocuously atop the wood stand and shook my head.

What am I doing here?

Perhaps for the umpteenth time I asked myself that question. Oh I knew what I was doing here alright. Sitting with my hands clasped in between my legs under the table, staring lackadaisically down at the tall, skinny glass of alcohol I'd ordered. It was what I'd been doing for the last half hour. And as for the 'here', well, I was wiling away my time down in a shady joint that my co-worker had dragged me to. What I had yet to figure out was why I had obliged him this time when usually I turned down his persistent offers to waste away good Friday nights in such a manner.

I rubbed my index finger around the lip of the glass idly. Work was a bitch. It always is. Sometimes I wonder if those double shifts are really worth it. I moved my hand from the glass and slid it over my face slowly. It was that letter, I guess. Having those pushed down emotions jerked back in my face had gotten to me more than I realized. They were getting married. It was official now. I lost her. I now had absolutely no chance at telling her how I felt. No chance to ever make her mine. She was his now, and that hurt. It hurt me deep down to know that whatever I shoulda' coulda' woulda' done to prove myself was now tossed out the window. And on top of all that, I had no choice but to go there and face the both of them. I mean, it wasn't as if I could skip out on something like this. Mario's my big brother, my only family, he wants me to be there for him so I have to be there. It's what's expected of me.

Leaning back in the suede black booth, I folded my arms across my chest. Yeah, I'll have to go. Mario's already sent the ticket and booked me as his best man. It wouldn't be right of me to leave him hanging, no matter how much it pained me to go and be there. And it did pain me so much. The pain was what had driven me here, I realized. I didn't know what to do with all these erroneous feelings of betrayal and sadness so I figured I'd give this...binge thing a try. I mean, it works for Terry so why not for me? Hm. What I hadn't taken into account at the moment was that one, I don't drink. Never have in all my twenty six years of living, not even during high school or on my graduation night or during feasts in other worlds even though it was customary to. The other thing, well it's quite simple, really.

Terry and I are nothing alike.

Maybe it was easy for him to come to this club every weekend and choke down drinks and hassle women but that just wasn't me. What was I thinking? I couldn't even picture myself drowning my feelings in a drink, it just wasn't me. I wasn't like him. If it weren't for the fact that we both work in downtown Brooklyn at that pizza joint, we'd have nothing in common. Besides the fact that we were both males of course. First of all, he was taller and of a bulkier build than me with dark, tanned skin and muddy brown eyes. The lower part of his face was covered in stubble and his arms were thick and incredibly hairy. He had short, curly brunette hair that stuck to his head on all sides. Both his dark brows were fat and close together, giving him a rough, angry sort of look even though he was pretty laid back. With a foul mouth and even fouler attitude when it came to women, he and I were polar opposites almost. The only reason I still associated with him was because I sort of felt obligated to. He was the first person I met on the job and he had no qualms about showing me the ropes. If I had to be honest, though, I'd say he was using me. He knew that I sort of felt indebted to him and with the tacit undertones of that hanging over my head, he'd bum rides and money off of me.

"You alright man?" Terry asked me.

I winced as the slurred question reached my ears. Until now I'd been successfully tuning him out, but I guess he got tired of my inattention because he had slammed his fist down on the table to get it focused on him. It peeved me that he'd done that. Couldn't he just leave me to my thoughts? I concealed my frown and displeasure and regarded him coolly.

"I'm fine." I lied.

He shrugged. Like me he still wore his work uniform. The red and black polo seemed to be straining at the seams to cover his broad barrel chest. He reclined comfortably in the booth across from me. He looked to be at ease here. He had about twenty dollars worth of empty glasses littering the table in front of him so that would explain his slur. And the dull, glassiness in his eyes as he sat there appraising me. I sighed and braced myself for whatever was coming next.

"Can I ask you something man?" he started.

I wondered then, if I were to say no would he back off? Probably not. He's drunk. So I just nodded in response and tugged my arms out of their crossed position and once again clasped my hands in my lap. Again I hunched myself over the table and stared blankly into the dose of vodka I had yet to taste. And probably wouldn't before the night was over.

"Are you. You know. Gay?" he blurted.

I tensed. That had taken me by surprise, and after working with Terry for almost a year and a half that was saying something. I thought I was used to the things that fly from his mouth, even on the occasions where he's this drunk but this. This was a new breed of blunt, tactlessness on his part. I exhaled through my nose and closed my eyes briefly. Once I was sure that docile cordiality was in place I looked over at him. He looked completely serious despite his inebriated state.

"What makes you say that?" I asked evenly.

I made sure to keep my voice flat, devoid of any sign of offense or anger. He constantly got on my nerves with his abrasiveness but I did my best to stay civil with him. Like I said, I did feel a bit obligated to this man. That obligation was diminishing as time progressed, mind you, but as for now it was still there.

Terry started to laugh, all traces of solemnity now gone from his face and features. He stretched his arms across the back of the semi-circular booth and just laughed. I didn't see what was so funny. Maybe if I weren't so detached at the moment I'd remark upon his aggravating behavior. He quieted after seeing I hadn't joined in his laughter but his eyes were still shining when he settled his thin lips back into an easy grin.

"I mean, look at you," he said.

I did. I didn't see anything wrong or indicative of my being gay. I was in those drab work clothes so nothing particularly telling in that department. My polo shirt did fit me a bit tightly but only because it was made for a female; the manager insisted that he didn't have any more male shirts in stock at the time. Was that the reason behind his questioning? Or was it something else? I really didn't care.

"Man you're not bad looking and you just," Terry continued, "You got b-bitches trailing you at work an' even here. I mean, did you, did you see the last bitch that stopped by this table? She came here for you, man."

I leaned back in my seat and pushed at my left temple. "Hm."

Terry guffawed, "You see, that's just it! Fine piece of ass walked by and you act like you don' care!"

Who said I was acting, I thought acerbically. I pinched the bridge of my nose and kept the retort coiled up on the back of my tongue. Terry was getting on my nerves. I didn't feel like being here. I didn't want to be around him. I just wanted to go home. But no, because of my stupid decision to join him I was stuck with the task of bringinghim home which, for him, was a good fifteen minutes away in the opposite direction of where my apartment was. I found myself getting more and more disgusted as the night dragged on.

What am I doing here?

I still didn't know. I should've came straight home after work today. Why didn't I? This night was a waste, just like I knew it would be. I hadn't drank a single drop of liquor and all the problems I came with were ever present, in addition to a few more. It turns out Terry didn't have any money after all, which I suspected from the very beginning seeing as he barely picked up any shifts this week. Still, it grated on my nerves how badly he had imposed on me this night. If he knew he didn't have money, he should've at least moderated himself and been courteous enough to keep an inexpensive tab. But no, he went all out, getting more expensive shots and glasses. As I paid for our drinks, his drinks, I fumed within. Over thirty dollars wasted on alcohol. It made no sense.

"Leavin' pretty early. Something wrong, man?" Terry had the gall to ask me.

I thought it best to just ignore him. I maneuvered my way through the building past sweaty, dancing bodies until I'd gotten to the exit. Once there I pushed open the glass door and pressed my lips together as the chilly wind embraced my exposed skin. It felt good, better than being in the club where the air was thick and stolid with the smells of smoke and cheap cologne. I hurried out from the parking lot in search of my car. It was beat up and raggedy, it wasn't hard to find. I got in before Terry even reached the vehicle and I had half a mind to just drive off and leave him to fend for himself. I didn't, though, I waited for him to come ambling along. When he was inside, I peeled out of the lot and sped towards his home.

Why, why, why did I come here? I should've just come home. Why didn't I follow my first mind? Now I was short thirty dollars that could've been used to do something productive with my off day tomorrow. I rarely got those. Oh well, it wasn't like I could go anyplace now, taking this mooch home would eat up a good amount of my gas. So much that I'd have to lay low until the day after tomorrow so that I could earn extra tips at work and put more fuel in this piece of shit car. I frowned tightly then smoothed over my features. It was a force of habit not to let anything show, as frustrated as I was.

I got to Terry's house and didn't even stop the car before I all but shoved him out of the passenger seat. From there the ride home was a quiet and quick one, not punctuated with my co-workers idiotic rambling and belching. I parked my car in my usual spot once I reached the apartments complex and slammed the door disgustedly. I zipped up my jacket against the cold and stuffed my hands in my pockets. Angrily I strode through the brick archway and headed for the stairs. I had no one to blame for my frustration but myself. I should've just come home and avoided this terrible awful night.

"Luigi, wait up!" someone called.

Shit, shit, shit! Why her? Why now? I wanted to throw up my hands and just say to hell with it all but instead I quelled my emotions and schooled my face into a mask of neutrality. Then I turned round and faced the person who chased after me. I was on the second floor, I lived on the third, so I still had a ways to go to get to my room. I waited with patience I didn't feel like exhibiting for the petite person to start climbing the rusted iron stairway. Once she'd made it about a foot behind me I continued walking upstairs at a brisk pace. I was hoping she'd take the hint.

"You just got off work?" She asked me.

I sighed. She didn't need to ask that, by now she knew about what time I got off work anyway. She habitually stalked me, this girl. She was slim and curvy and had thick copper-colored hair that was ruffled in a bob to her chin. Her light grey eyes were ever-sparkling with a certain expectation and she was always toying with the edge of her baby pink bottom lip. A few freckles were sprinkled over her nose and under her eyes and her thin brows often arched when she asked a question or was taken by surprise. There was a tattoo of a viper coiled around her pierced bellybutton and I only knew as much from the many revealing outfits she sported while around me. If only her uncle, the landlord, knew of how frequently she walked around scantily clad. Tonight she didn't disappoint; her jean shorts could barely pass as such and the black sleeveless cutoff shirt she had on was tied off at the back, leaving her midriff bare. She was barefoot, so she must have come from her room not to long ago.

"Hey, slow down!" she cried plaintively.

She had it out for me since I first got here. Frankly, she was a bit too young for me. She, Tanya, was only nineteen. When I found out she was the landlord's niece that only put me off her even more. But she would not be deterred. What she did to me on a weekly, almost daily basis was nothing short of sexual harassment but who'd believe me? Who'd believe that this woman, who sported cardigans and modest capri pants around her uncle and others, was the persistent little minx that she was? No one. If anything, they'd point the finger at me. That made me quicken my pace.

Some kind of way as I was just putting my foot down on the last step of the third floor she'd slipped past me and blocked my way. If I weren't so weary I might have laughed. Her five and a half foot frame was the least intimidating thing I'd ever seen. I humored her though, thinking that maybe if I did she'd leave me alone quicker.

"Did you work an extra shift or something?" She inquired, "You're out pretty late."

I sighed, "Yeah, sure."

I didn't know if that answered her question or not and I didn't really care. Honestly I was just trying to shut her up. It didn't work. She stood there rubbing the goosebumps from her tanned arms, or at least that was what she'd started out doing. The innocent action turned into something more as she let her hands roam across her bare stomach and slowly down her hips. She kept her eyes on me, she wanted me to look.

"Well that explains why you look so tired," She mused with her head tilted.

I rolled my eyes. Maybe the cold didn't seem to bother her, but I didn't enjoy just standing here while she played this game with me. I wanted to get to my room.

"Tanya, move. I need to get to my room." I said tightly.

She pouted those glossy lips and narrowed her eyes in mock petulance, "Really, Luigi. Don't be mean." she chided.

I could feel my heart speeding up with anger. "Tanya, move."

The girl did move, alright, but not in the right direction. She stepped closer to me and put her arms around my middle. When she ran them up my chest and around my neck I stiffened. If her uncle were to see us like this I might get in trouble. I didn't need that added anxiety.

"You should come to my room," She murmured coyly, "I could um, help get rid of that stress of yours, help you relax. You're so tense."

I gripped her arms a little harder than I should have and brought them back down by her sides. She looked put out and folded them under her chests, pushing them up while doing so and accenting the faded white word across the bust; kitten, it read. It fit her too well.

"Won't you come and keep me company?" She drawled softly.

I stepped around her, "Not tonight."

Not ever, I could've added, but I didn't want to hurt her. She was still a kid in my eyes and her affection for me was juvenile. Granted, there was nothing juvenile about her sinful body or her many earnest attempts at luring me to her bed but still, I didn't want to hurt her. Part of the reason I was so polite was because I knew she had some kind of warped feelings for me in addition to the lust. She did come visit me when I was in the hospital, though I did suspect she might have had the intention of taking advantage of my bedridden state. The other part was that I feared being evicted or worse at the hands of her uncle. But it was hard keeping those sentiments in mind with her irking me like this.

"But Luigi-" She started to plead.

I rounded on her and gripped her shoulders. Her eyes glittered excitedly for a moment and her lips parted in anticipation.

"No. Tanya." I said with finality.

She opened her mouth and then closed it. She then rose her chin defiantly and said with an edge of disappointment, "Kay. Maybe next time then Luigi."

Tanya brushed past me and started walking down the hall in the opposite direction. As she passed me, she came behind me and leaned up to push a kiss against the nape of my neck. At the same time she slid her hands down my back, lower still. She gave the area at the base of my spine a squeeze. A jolt of surprise wracked my body, then indignation took its place. I shot her a thinly veiled glare but she only grinned and winked back at me over her shoulder. I was shaking when I finally did get to my room and once I turned the key and got inside, I slammed the door shut. I didn't care if I woke my neighbors.

There was a hooked nail on the wall beside the door that I hung my keys on. Onto the coffee table in the living room I tossed my jacket that I'd shrugged out of on the way to my bedroom. I pushed the door open and walked over to my closet. There I kicked off my boots and then strode over to collapse onto my bed. I was too worked up. My heartbeat was quick and my skin was heatedly flushed. I had to calm down. I'd taken my pills for the day so the only other therapeutic method was to take a shower.

I went through the motions and prepared myself for a long, scalding hot session under the steamy downpour. As I thought, the process calmed me. Something about being clean and warm was soothing. But it wasn't long before the thoughts assaulted me once more. I was tired of living like this. I hated my job and where I lived and the company I kept. And I wouldn't lie, even though I stolidly refused that kitten Tanya's advances I was still only a man and very rarely but often enough to shame me I'd thought about. Doing things to that sinful body of hers. I imagined of claiming Tanya but envisioning her while I did it. Those thoughts were errant, fleeting, but they made themselves known on infrequent occasions and it shamed me. I grit my teeth.

I hated this. I felt trapped in this. This mediocrity I dared call a life. I had nothing that made me happy. The thing that came close was my modest comic book collection I kept stored away in one of my closets. Maybe what I needed was a change in scene. Maybe I just needed to get away from all this for a bit. I knew that this was my life and I had to make of it what I could, but my goals just seemed so far away and unattainable. Like I'd lost sight of them with all that's going on. I needed to get away and clear my head, then come back and focus on what's important. I just needed a break, that's all. A little time away. I would pack my bags tomorrow and catch the train that afternoon. I would stay in the kingdom and attend the wedding and support my brother, if only as a means of escape from this lethal existence.

For now, though, I needed sleep. Today had been a rough.

A/N: So that was the first chapter, kind of wordy but like I said, I had to set the mood/give you guys a feel for this Luigi I'm portraying. As for the OC's, don't worry, they're not important, they were only used in this chapter to further enhance and develop Luigi's character and emphasize a point; you probably won't be seeing them anymore after this point.

Well...what do you guys think? Should I continue? Like Strangled, I have this story outlined already so if you like this idea enough I'll post the rest. Leave a review and tell me what to do! Until next time...

~DymondGold~