Broken Prism »

The Message Without The Bottle

Luigi tried to slit his throat at the age of twelve, by the time he's twenty, the scar around his throat has almost faded away. But there's a long time between twelve and twenty, everyone knows that as a fact. It's a fairly gray Wednesday today, and Luigi sits at the stainless steel desk, part of the only real furniture in this bite-sized room, besides that and the bed. The rooms are completely painted white, while the floors are a bright red. Luigi's bright blue eyes stare dully at the picture in front of him, his brother and a pretty blonde women on it.

That's them, his new family.

Family.

Luigi thinks it's a funny word, family. He opened up his notebook, doodling the letters onto the stark white page. First in print, then in cursive, then in block, then in bubble letters under that. Family. Family. Family. The more he said it, the more artificial it sounded in his mouth. He didn't like the way it rolled off his tongue, he didn't like the way the syllables pronounced themselves the way they did, FAH - MAH - LEE. Luigi bites his lip, nervous feeling creeping up his throat like bile, hands shaking uncontrollably as he wiggles his toes in his red-and-white stripped socks. In the back of his mind, other than hoping that he would get to eat burgers today, he desperately hoped that his new family would like him.

Just because you've spent half of your life in an asylum doesn't mean people should think any less of you.

Right?

Probably not.

When Luigi talked to him, his brother, his family. He rejoiced over Luigi coming home, and meeting his wife, eating dinner while catching up. But there isn't much to talk about, nothing happens inside these four white walls, nothing happens outside either. Luigi frets over finding someway to properly converse, he doesn't talk to anyone but Dimentio, and all that consists of a few 'How are you's and 'Good mornings'. That and his wild stories, which Luigi's pretty sure he's lieing about half of them. The only thing he might miss about this place is probably him, he was his only friend while he was trapped in this less then perfect white prison.

"Luigi?" A voice asks, seeping in through the stark white door. "Are you ready? Someone is here to take you home."

Home...

Luigi slowly inhales and exhales, chest heaving and it feels like his heart is in his mouth - he chews on it. Completely unsure of himself, he hasn't had much human interaction - the only one's he has experienced are the one's with his therapist. And first impressions are everything. Or so he hears. Like a child, he shuffles his feet from place to place - his brown shoes moving with a mind of their own, walking across the blood red carpet and onto the worn wooden floorboards of the asylum.

"Your leaving?" A voice asks, and when Luigi whirls around - it's Dimentio, standing before him - looking upset.

"Y-Yeah..." Is Luigi's meek reply.

"Do you think they fixed you?" He asks, voice leaking with amusement. "They couldn't fix me.."

He grabs onto Luigi's throat, not squeezing - but it's not comforting.

"I-I have to go..." Luigi says, tearing himself away - not looking back as he scrambles towards the revolving doors.

¤ ( && ) Xx

Mario lay, body sprawled across his trampoline idly in that way men seem to have down so well; oh, his feet could touch the other side now. He folded his legs up so as to fit better, music pounding into his ears from his Ipod; it was better than lying on the grass and getting his jeans dirty. He is fully aware that his 'little brother' was coming over, to move in with him and his wife and perhaps change their lives completely. The little brother he hasn't seen in so many years that it was almost unbelievable, Mario barely had a grasp on what Luigi looked like - ("A lot like you of course! Silly.") - His wife had reminded him.

Still, he wasn't completely convinced - appearances can change, especially in years. Of course, Mario is mathematically challenged - he isn't sure how many years it's been or how old Luigi is now. He's younger then Mario though, he knows that much. Mario places a peanut butter cookie onto his tongue, chewing and swallowing - relishing in the nice taste. The crumbs stick to his fingers, his brushes them off and they land on the trampoline. Mario sighs, a little too lazy to brush them off - he's very comfortable the way he is.

"Are you sure he isn't a....y'know....Psycho?" Peach had asked moments before, leaning in very close with her hand in front of her mouth - whispering, even though they're the only two in the entire house.

"He isn't even here yet - and your already talking crap about him?" Mario asked, laughing at her paranoia. "He can't be all that crazy, I mean - That's what the therapists are for, aren't they? They fix people, that's what they do." He says, and he knows that the fact that he's trying to convince himself is leaking through his voice entirely.

"I should hope so," Peach says, scratching her head and smoothing out some imaginary wrinkles out of her dress. "I don't want any psychos in my house, y'know."

Mario sits up on the blue kiddie-trampoline, tilting his head to the right - his neck hurt for some odd reason, probably from all the nervous sparks going through his body. Or was it something else? Whatever, he wasn't a Doctor or anything. Mario turned off his Ipod, stowed it away safely in his pocket and began to bounce, springs creaking ominously under his weight. He stopped abruptly a few minutes later, when a black SUV coming into his line of vision.

He's here? Already!?!

Mario felt his heart flip when he say legs pop out of the open car door, walking out, coming towards him...

Oh god..!

Luigi walked towards the trampoline, looking up at Mario and down at the picture he was holding multiple times - watching his older sibling's head as it appeared in and out of his line of vision, bordered by sky and hedge and fence. He looked funny.

"H-Hi..." Luigi squeaked, voice soft and small, raising his hand in a hello. Mario bounced off the trampoline and landed onto the ground on his feet - perfectly and without any injury. "Um, Mario..."

Mario snickered slightly, eyeing Luigi up and down in a sceptical way, as if admiring a picture hanging in an art gallery. "You haven't changed a bit.." Mario saw big blue innocent eyes stare back at him, looking a little scared - overall strap hanging off Luigi's shoulder blade slightly. Cute..

"W-What?" Luigi asked, stepping back. "Aren't you happy to see me again?"

Mario's eyes widened a little, he blushed and scratched the back of his head. And if it were some sort of weird manga they had been plonked in, a giant tear-shaped drop of sweat would've rolled down the older sibling's forehead. "O-Of course I am! So very happy!"

A few minutes of awkward silence pass by them.

"C-Can I....hug you?" Luigi asked, his thumb pressed against his bottom lip, a smidge of red painting his cheeks.

Mario couldn't help the 'Awww!' that escaped his lips, Luigi's cheeks turned bright crimson - embarrassed.

"Of course you can." Mario says, and almost falls when Luigi throws his arms around him.

Luigi nuzzled his neck affectionately before mumbling, "I missed you.."

- - -

an: wowie. another multichap.