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'Happy birthday to... urp... Ma-ri-o! The greatest hero the Mushroom Kingdom has ever seen, or something!'
An explosion of laughter followed the Toad's drunken speech, along with a smattering of applause. No-one bothered to find out the identity of the one who had spoken; singling out a particular Toad in a room full of them, nearly all wearing the same outfit, just wasn't worth the effort.
'Happy birthday, Mario!' cried Peach, beaming more widely than she'd done in a while. Between Bowser's most recent attempt to hijack her castle and make her his bride, and the general stress of being expected to manage a kingdom, the young princess's face had been showing strain. But now she laughed, smiled and leaned on Mario's willing arm as if none of that mattered anymore.
Alcohol, Luigi thought, unsure if he felt more wonder, amusement, or contempt. As the non-drinker in the room, it was very strange to watch everyone's inhibitions drop, see their tongues loosen and their attempts at ballroom dancing become more like flailing.
He knew he was the odd one for not drinking. Enough celebratory glasses had been thrust upon him that most people would have given in by now and allowed themselves a cautious sip, if nothing else.
But the idea of making a fool of himself in front of all these partygoers – when he usually managed it well enough without alcohol – was more than he could stand. No, abstinence was the safer option here. However, that didn't stop Luigi from watching everyone else embarrassing themselves and enjoying it immensely. And he couldn't help noticing how... relaxed they seemed.
How nice it would be to let go, for just one night. To cast away his fears of humiliation and fall into the swirl of colour and sound – to laugh and dance as if nothing mattered anymore. But his sense of self-control was too strong, too resolved to surrender himself to that mindless bliss.
'Hey, Bro!'
A new voice, closer than any other, pulled Luigi's mind back to reality, and he looked around.
Mario was leaning against the back of a nearby chair, smiling and teetering in a way that suggested he'd drunk more than Peach. The chair was beginning to tip back from his careless weight and Luigi – feeling like a mother hen – reached across to gently hold it in place.
'Hey, Mario,' he said. 'What's up? I thought you and Peach were having fun together over there.'
He allowed a sly, teasing note to creep into his voice, having watched the pair clinging to each other just moments before. But what would normally make Mario flush and splutter incoherently didn't seem to affect him now. The confident grin widened, his eyebrows went up, and he leaned more heavily on the back of the chair, tipping it back despite Luigi's stabilising hand.
'Well, I – OOOPH!'
The crash as he brought the chair over, and himself with it, went unnoticed except by the man sitting next to him. Luigi's muscles tensed as alarm flashed through him, but it quickly faded once he determined that Mario had not cracked his head open.
He was too annoyed to help Mario up as his brother floundered ridiculously on the floor. 'You are an idiot,' he said through gritted teeth.
'The tiles are slippery, fratello!'
Mario hauled himself up with the aid of another chair. The fall clearly hadn't shocked sobriety into him. He swayed and latched onto the edge of the buffet table to stop himself going over again. Luigi sighed and sat back, deciding that the food-laden table was probably too heavy for Mario to tip.
'You need to stop drinking,' he said. 'Don't you see what this is doing to you?' He flapped a hand at the unsteady man for emphasis.
'Hey, Luigi, it's OK. It's just a bit of harmless fun.'
'Harmless? You could have given yourself a concussion! Not that it could make you any more stupid...'
There it was again: that big, boozy, confident grin. Nothing he said now was going to be taken seriously by Mario. He'd enjoy his fun until it was forcibly taken from him – either by passing out, or by Luigi dragging him bodily out of the castle. Neither sounded like a very pleasant way to end a birthday party, but then, what did Luigi know?
He huffed softly and waved his hand, this time to shoo Mario away. 'Just go. Peach looks like she wants to dance with you.'
Any dancing between those two was going to look more like a Toad rolling down a staircase. But Mario immediately lurched off through the crowds to rejoin his princess, and Luigi tried not to follow his progress, instead settling his gaze on something else. Anything else.
Maybe watching other people make fools of themselves wasn't as fun as he'd originally thought.
Bored, he picked at the refreshments for the next half-hour and observed the ballroom. As the night wore on, fewer couples were actually dancing and more were slipping away into the corners, away from the blaze of coloured lights, finding a different outlet for their drunken bliss. One that Luigi wanted very much not to see, but somehow his gaze kept drifting back to that one couple – a human man and woman, he didn't recognise them – practically sucking each others' faces off under the window. How long had they gone without adequate oxygen? Were those tooth marks on the man's neck? And how long had the lady's blouse been partially unbuttoned?
Stars. Warmth prickled in his cheeks and up his own neck. He hastily turned away, grabbing his lemonade and taking a gulp. He really, really hoped that Peach noticed these idiots and put a stop to it. Surely she wasn't going to let her guests get that frisky, half-hidden or not?
When he looked in the other direction, he saw a wash of red and pink pressed against a wall. The shapes that accompanied the colours didn't register in his mind at first. Then he began to make out two distinct figures. The shorter, plumper one was pressed back against the wall, while the taller figure was leaning over them, cradled so close that almost no part of their bodies wasn't touching...
A sharp breath dived into Luigi's lungs, and he nearly cricked his neck from turning away so fast.
No, the princess wasn't going to be of any help.
He would have left by then – should have left – but something unfathomable made him stay. It was Mario's birthday, after all; he couldn't in good conscience leave his brother's birthday party prematurely. Even the knowledge that Mario wouldn't mind and wouldn't do more than playfully tease him the next morning... he couldn't. It felt disloyal.
I'm even more of an idiot than Mario. I'd willingly endure this... absurdity... just because I'm too polite to leave early...
The longer he sat there, the more he began to wonder.
Maybe it wouldn't be so wrong to let go. These people are having fun, right? Nothing bad is happening...
His eyes drifted to a half-empty bottle of vodka on the table. The glass reflected a myriad of colours from the lights around the room; it sparkled when Luigi moved his head. He did this several times, back and forth, almost hypnotised by the sight.
He hadn't drunk heavily in years. He knew that his alcohol tolerance wouldn't sustain more than one drink before he began to really notice the effects. He'd be losing himself to something he couldn't control once it started.
Even so... the idea was tempting.
His gloved fingers were stretching towards the bottle before his brain could send a signal to make them stop.
Though he hadn't drunk in a long time, he poured himself a screwdriver with calm assurance. One part vodka – the clear liquid stung his nose when he took a sniff. Three parts orange juice. He raised the glass to his mouth and hesitated one last time, knowing deep down that he should change his mind.
He didn't.
The drink burned on the way down, the sweetness of the orange juice combined with something he couldn't quite describe – the vodka was almost sweet too, but it was a different kind of sweetness, warm and heady, and he swore he could feel the interior of his throat flaying off in strips. It was a feeling he remembered from his younger days, back when he and Mario had gone out together every Saturday to drink socially: something Mario still did on occasion but Luigi did not.
He performed an action halfway between a cough and a retch.
Then, he continued drinking. He wasn't so careless as to gulp it down. He wanted to be pleasantly tipsy, not make himself throw up.
He had finished his first glass and was pouring himself a second when someone finally noticed what he was up to. And it was a person he hadn't expected to encounter at all, given her... status the last time he saw her.
'Luigi?' Peach said, hovering over him with a half-amused, half-concerned smile. Her hair was a bit messy, but otherwise she looked normal.
'Hi, Princess,' he said politely, never one to treat her with disrespect even at a time like this. 'What's up? Heheheh, this vodka's really great. You'll have to tell me where you got it from.'
She peered at him, trying to see his face underneath the shadowing brim of his cap. 'How much have you had? I thought you never drank.'
'Does it matter?'
...All right, maybe he wasn't above treating her with disrespect. Or something less than reverence, at least. By the Stars, why did his head feel like this? It was all... thick and floaty. There was a humming noise in his ears that should have been annoying but was actually quite pleasant.
'I think you should stop now, Luigi,' said Peach, speaking slowly and clearly.
'You n' Mario had way more,' he muttered. It wasn't fair. He'd forced himself to stay sober and watch everyone else's tomfoolery until now. And when he finally decided that he'd had enough and wanted to join in the fun, Peach started treating him like a disobedient child. He was more mature than any of them!
She was obviously worried, though, because she knelt down beside his chair and attempted to pull his glass out of his hand. He curled his fingers, tightening them to the best of his ability. When it became clear that Peach would have to either give up or pull hard enough to spill the drink all over him, she conceded, though not without a look of frustration.
'I'm going to go and fetch Mario, OK?' she said, still addressing him in that exaggerated manner. She stood up, briefly resting a hand on his shoulder. 'I'll ask him to walk you home.'
Silly. Mario's much more drunk than me; if anything, I'll be the one walking HIM home.
'Where's Daisy?' he found himself mumbling as sudden, unexplainable distress washed over him. It came from nowhere. 'I wanna talk to Daisy, not Mario...'
'Daisy's not here, Luigi,' she said. He saw her brow pinch as her concern sharpened, bordering on panic. 'She couldn't come to the party, remember? She's at home.'
'Home...' Luigi echoed. Home was the little house he and Mario shared on the outskirts of Toad Town. Was Daisy there? She must be very bored sitting there all by herself. Maybe he should have refused the invitation to the party and spent the night with her instead.
No, no, you can't think that! Daisy isn't your girlfriend, or your wife, she's just a REALLY good friend. Yeah... it doesn't matter than you love her; she'll never love you back. You can't have her the same way Mario has Peach.
The thought was unbelievably depressing. What was this? He thought alcohol was supposed to make you relaxed and happy, and that had always been true for him in the past. Now, he could actually feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes.
He had been wrong. He wasn't relaxed, he wasn't having fun... No, he was seeing the world with greater clarity. Things that he avoided thinking about when sober were now being rammed into the front of his mind with such force that he couldn't stop himself spilling them to anyone who would listen. Maybe that was why he could sense a headache coming on. There was too much in his brain!
Peach was clearly loathe to leave him, but with a final worried look, she got up and walked away.
Now he was all alone. Well, at least there wasn't anybody to spill his thoughts to anymore. I wouldn't mind if it were Daisy, he thought. He had things he needed to tell her, and only now did he have the courage to say them.
He finally noticed that he still had an almost full glass in his hand, and with a pleasant feeling of not-caring-anymore, he took a swig. It scorched his throat and wrenched a cough from him. His tongue felt sticky from the orange juice. His eyes watered and his heart was beating too fast, excited by the alcohol. All of these sensations combined into a feeling of distinct unwellness.
Oh. This was a bad idea.
He stumbled upright, but forgot to put his glass down before doing so, which caused the orange liquid to splash all over the tiled floor and the seat of his chair. Suddenly he became aware of Peach standing beside him again, holding him steady as the world skewed around him like a storm-driven ship.
'Sit down, Luigi,' she instructed.
He shook his head, wincing when the action made him feel twice as dizzy. 'Nooo, can't... spilled stuff on the chair...'
She gently but firmly directed him to another seat, and proceeded to press against his shoulders until he was forced to sit down. Despite the mess he'd made, the look on the princess's face was not one of anger. Rather, she appeared genuinely concerned. He immediately felt terrible for ruining her evening like this; she was supposed to be having fun, enjoying her time with Mario and kissing him in the corner while everyone watched--
Annoyance at the whole situation shook him. How dare his brother be so irresponsible and... and silly? Getting drunk and snogging princesses at a party? He was going to get in so much trouble; it didn't matter that he and Peach were technically a couple! Now Peach was upset because he'd chosen to drink – I should be allowed to do whatever I want! I don't always need to take care of other people!
He was nearly bent double with dizziness and nausea when Mario suddenly emerged from the crowd, kneeling in front of him and looking him over with an expression similar to Peach's.
'Hey, Bro, it's OK. We're going home now.'
'No, is your birthdaaayy... You're s'posed to be having fun...'
Mario didn't seem to be listening. He exchanged a few words with Peach, too quiet for him to understand. Then, he calmly wrapped an arm around Luigi and started to support him in a half-walk, half-drag towards the front doors.
'C'mon, we've just got to get to the warp pipe and then we'll be home and safe,' he said.
Luigi was vaguely aware of the nighttime chill, and he could just barely see the path between Peach's castle and Toad Town, which was flanked with bushes and illuminated by mushroom-shaped streetlamps. Above them, the dark-blue sky glittered with stars. He wondered if any of them were looking down on him and laughing.
Mario dragged him over to a green pipe near the castle entrance and unceremoniously hauled him inside. Luigi was about to protest that warp pipes always made him feel sick and he already felt sick enough – even if the fresh air was helping – but before he could open his mouth, he was swallowed up by darkness. There was a brief sensation of being sucked down a narrow, dank-smelling chute, and then his body suddenly changed direction and he was forcefully spat out onto cool grass.
The sudden whirring ride was too much. At last, he stopped resisting, pulled himself onto his hands and knees and threw up until he was gasping.
Mario kept a grip on his shoulder the whole time, partly to show support and partly to make sure Luigi didn't fall into his own mess. When it was over, he gently picked his brother up and carried him into the house. Luigi was so wrung out, all he could do was cling to Mario's overalls and wish for sleep. Or death. Whatever might end this torture.
'I'm gonna put you in your bed, but try and stay awake to drink some water, OK?' said Mario. The inside of the house was cold, but once he set Luigi down, he quickly lit the fire, and that helped a little.
Luigi kept his eyes closed, scarcely aware of his surroundings as Mario stripped him to his underwear, forced some pyjamas onto him and pulled the quilt up to cover him. The rim of a glass was held against his mouth and he actually flinched, stupidly thinking that Mario was giving him more alcohol. But when he realised it was just water, he sucked it down greedily; he hadn't noticed how dry his throat was until the opportunity came to relieve it.
'Now, go to sleep,' said Mario firmly. He patted Luigi's knee before quietly walking into the other room. Luigi heard him start a phone conversation with someone a few seconds later, but by then he could no longer resist the lure of sleep. He fell away onto a black tide of slumber, and for the first time that evening, he truly felt relaxed.
Maybe THIS is why people like drinking, was his last coherent thought before he drifted away.
The next day, he dearly would have liked to go on as normal and pretend the whole fiasco never happened, but that wasn't an option.
First of all, he woke up at 12PM with a ringing headache and the horrible sensation of his tongue curling up against the roof of his mouth. He stumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, powering his tired body through force of will, just in time to throw up in the toilet. Mario heard, of course, and waited outside to offer him a glass of water when he was done.
Secondly, there were conversations to be had. He didn't want to talk, and Mario knew he didn't want to, and that made it awkward for everyone involved. Unfortunately, Mario was also a very good brother, which meant he wouldn't ignore things that affected Luigi no matter how awkward they were.
'So, any reason why you decided to drink? I mean, it's your choice,' he hastily added, seeing Luigi's mouth open indignantly. 'But it's not common for you, so... I guess everyone was surprised?'
Luigi was making himself a mug of coffee, hoping that the caffeine would drive away his lingering tiredness. His muscles ached and his mouth tasted bitter, even though he'd brushed his teeth after the second episode of expelling bile.
'There was no particular reason,' he said. 'I just saw everyone else doing it, and... I guess I thought... 'why the hell not?' You were all having fun. It didn't look so bad. And it's not like I haven't ever drunk before,' he added, shooting Mario a pointed glance. In the past, their weekend trips to the bar had started out as Mario's idea and eventually become a tradition they both looked forward to.
'I know,' said Mario. 'It just seems odd that you decided to try it again, all of a sudden.'
'Maybe I needed to distract myself from the sight of you and Peach touching and kissing each other in the corner,' he grumbled just loud enough to be heard. As he expected, Mario went bright red with surprise and horror.
'Y-you saw...?'
'Yes, I saw – probably more than anyone wanted to see. Next time, maybe go somewhere private?'
'Mama mia.'
The words came out as a despairing groan, and Mario sunk his face into his hands with the air of someone who wanted to disappear underground for a long time. Luigi couldn't help but chuckle, almost glad that he wasn't the only one feeling humiliated by the events of last night.
It hadn't been fun, but he couldn't deny that his brief indulgence had been an interesting experience. And it had taught him that joining the drinkers in the room was never worth the trouble. He decided that, from now on, he would just go home early and leave everyone else to their mindless bliss. It was hard to believe that they all thought a few hours of inebriation was a fair trade for the inevitable hangover... but he couldn't stop them.
'Oh, by the way,' said Mario once he recovered sufficiently to pretend that the previous exchange hadn't happened.
'What?'
'Do you remember talking about Daisy at all during that party?'
A feeling of muted dread rose up, all the way from his stomach to his throat. 'Um, not really. What did I say?'
'Well, not much. But you seemed to really want to talk to her. I think that the next time she visits the kingdom, you should. Peach called her last night to let her know what happened, and she was so worried, she called me just to check on you. She definitely likes you, Bro.'
It was Mario's turn to laugh, now, as Luigi rubbed his face in a mixture of weariness and embarrassment.