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In the back of Luigi’s mind he had the running thought that if he could go back in time and get that message that he won a mansion in a contest he didn’t even enter he would have torn it up and buried it somewhere that no one could find because no one deserved to go against the ghostly escapades that were rampant in this mansion.
A cold gust of wind billowed down the hallway of the haunted mansion and the feeling of it sent goose bumps along Luigi’s skin. But the lights were on, chasing away any potential ghouls and their tricks, so his knees didn’t knock together as he looked for a good spot to rest. As he took off the Poltergust 3000 and settled down against the wall he thought of another reason why his fear had not eaten him up by now.
When the situation was explained to him all of his fear prompted him to call Daisy and when she got the full story she didn’t waste any time in coming to help him out, a tennis racquet clutched tightly in her hands. He rolled his aching shoulders and looked up at her: she was more engrossed in swinging the tennis racquet experimentally around to see what moves she could pull next and it slammed against the wall, gouging a hole into the cheap construction.
Daisy pulled the tennis racquet free and looked away from the mess like she didn’t do that. She noticed him sitting on the floor and went to join him, the tennis racquet settled next to her side.
“You okay?” Daisy asked. Her tone was a contrast to her actions against the ghosts that tried to fight them, as she proved she was a force to be reckoned with the normally peaceful sporting equipment in her hand. Like a full force of ocean storms crashed and battered against any ghost that would do them harm.
It got to the point that prankster ghosts in darkened hallways started to flee from them – maybe because Daisy had progressively gotten more irritated with those antics and aggression spilled out to make those ghosts more annoying to her instead of frightening. She gave him an explanation earlier in the night that those ghosts’ laughter made her teeth grit.
Though if one extended the ocean metaphor to Luigi, Daisy was more like the waves of calm waters.
“Yeah,” he said when he broke out of his thoughts. His fingers gently brushed against the bandage he had wrapped around her arm earlier, an injury caused by one of the portrait ghosts. “Are you okay?”
“That’s nothing,” she said breezily. “I’ve gotten worse training for sports tournaments!”
He smiled at the thought of sunnier days, even if right now they felt utterly out of reach for both of them. Especially so that he didn’t know exactly where his big bro was, only knowing he was captured in this mansion somewhere, or if something truly terrible had happened to him. And if something truly terrible had happened to his big bro then it would’ve all been Luigi’s fault for indirectly leading him here, his big bro falling into the trap first instead of him.
Luigi’s hands started to shake at those thoughts, this deep fear that gouged at him to the very bottom of his heart, and his vision blurred.
Something warm slipped into his hand and squeezed. Luigi blinked away his tears and realized that Daisy had taken his hand. He took a moment to breathe, to know that the night wasn’t over yet and they would work together to make things right. If he wanted to look for the light at the end of it all to know it was going to be okay then he would look at her, and hope that he could be that same light for her whenever she needed that. He quietly beckoned for her to lean her head on his shoulder if she so wished and she did, the two of them pushing themselves closer to each other.
“What do you wanna do when this is all over?” Daisy asked as she started to play with his fingers.
“I, um…” Luigi’s voice wavered a little with the leftover overwhelming emotion that had not yet left him. “I want to cook for everyone.”
It was better to think about what he was good for, maybe the only thing he was good for. Daisy’s voice chased away the persistent self-deprecation.
“If we’re cooking I wanna make the bread. I found a new type that I wanna try baking.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“Not telling you,” Daisy said teasingly. “It’s a surprise.”
He hummed, shivering a little bit as another harsh breeze gusted through the hallway. The lights didn’t flicker and nothing came crawling from the depths of the mansion through some other spectral means so it meant that they still had some time to breathe.
“Then I’ll make pasta, the bow-tie kind,” Luigi said. “And big bro and Peach can make caramel cake.”
It eased his nerves to think of better things.
“You know, Peach told me something funny,” Daisy said. “She said the first time she taught you how to make caramel cake you mixed up the flour and sugar. You tried to caramelize flour instead of sugar – how’d you do that?”
He felt heat flood his face as he tried to stammer out an answer and then kept his mouth shut because there was really no good explanation other than making a noise that was half agreement that it was a silly thing to do and half out of embarrassment. He exhaled and still felt his face burn.
“You liked it last time I baked it, right?” he asked. He smiled as he remembered her happily eating the confection.
“Yeah, I did,” Daisy said. She brushed her fingers over his knuckles. “I like to see you smile more too, instead of being scared.”
Luigi couldn’t really help that. But he’d remember that he wasn’t alone. He intertwined their fingers together again and squeezed.
“Thanks for coming to help me.”
“’Course I would,” Daisy replied. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and his face felt hot for a different reason.
In a few moments they would set off together again to face the unknown, to bring his big bro home safely. But what kept everything grounded and shook off fear and despair was the warmth of their hands intertwined together. That warmth said, I am here for you and you’re not alone. I’ll keep you safe no matter what happens.