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The birds were chirping, the sky stretched out in a perfect, cloudless blue, and the morning air carried the distant sounds of your father working downstairs. The scent of coffee drifted up from the kitchen, mixing with the crisp chill of February.
Outside, the world stirred with its usual rhythm—the low mooing of cows in the distance, and the clucking of chickens near the coop. Your dog was barking, probably chasing a squirrel or annoying your mom while she tended to her flowers. The soft rustling of leaves carried through the open window, a gentle reminder that the seasons were shifting.
It was a perfectly normal morning.
𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.
Because today was Valentine’s Day.
Not that it mattered to you.
You were curled up in bed, sketchbook balanced on your lap, lazily doodling in the margins. Your phone lay beside you, untouched except for the occasional glance at the time. Somewhere, couples were exchanging flowers and chocolates, making grand romantic gestures, and whispering sweet nothings to one another.
Meanwhile, you had bigger plans.
You were going to 𝘳𝘰𝘵.
A peaceful, quiet, uninterrupted bedrotting session. No love songs, no pink and red decorations, no consumerist nonsense. Just you, your blankets, and the sweet embrace of inactivity.
And then, your bedroom door slammed open.
You didn’t even flinch.
"Hello, Pep," you greeted in a monotone voice, not even bothering to look up.
Luigi strolled in like he owned the place, hands in his pockets, an easy grin on his face.
"Alright, what’s the plan for today?"
"Nothing," you answered without missing a beat.
He made a face. "What do you mean nothing? You’re just gonna wither away under your blankets?"
"You asked, I answered," you muttered, rolling onto your stomach. "I have no obligations to this capitalist scam of a holiday. I will be here, in my comfy clothes, enjoying my solitude."
"Yeah, no."
Before you could react, Luigi grabbed your ankle and dragged you halfway off the bed.
"Luigi—!"
"You’re coming with me."
"To where?! Let me wither away in peace!!"
"Nope," he said cheerfully, already walking away. "We’re watching a terrible movie in theaters, and you’re going to love it."
You groaned dramatically, throwing a pillow at him. He dodged effortlessly.
Still, you sat up, rubbing your face. "Fine, fine. But I have to change first. I’m still in my pajamas."
Luigi shot you a look. "You say that like it would stop me. I was fully prepared to drive you there in those."
"Ha! Funny." You stood, stretching. "Give me five minutes."
Luigi smirked. "I’ll be downstairs with your mom."
You narrowed your eyes. "Why?"
"Because she loves me," he said smugly before disappearing down the hall.
You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you got dressed. You took your time heading downstairs, but the moment you stepped into the kitchen, you were greeted by the sound of laughter.
Luigi and your mom were by the front door, deep in conversation, giggling like the gossips they were. Your mom had just come in from watering her plants, a towel draped over her shoulder as she wiped her hands. Her gardening gloves were still tucked into her apron, and a few stray leaves clung to her sweater.
"You’re kidding," Luigi said between laughs, shaking his head. "And he actually thought it was haunted?"
Your mom wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Oh, absolutely. He wouldn’t step foot in the barn for weeks after that."
You furrowed your brows as you approached. "Who wouldn’t step foot in the barn?"
Your mom waved a hand, still chuckling. "Your uncle. When we were kids, I convinced him the old storage room was cursed because the door kept shutting on its own."
Luigi grinned. "I can’t believe you gaslit your own brother."
"It was harmless," your mom said, smirking. "Besides, he deserved it after the frog prank."
You shook your head, exasperated. "Okay, Mama, we gotta go before you start telling him your entire life story."
Your mom just hummed in amusement. "Oh, please. He practically lived here growing up."
"Yeah," Luigi said, grinning at you. "I know all your embarrassing stories already."
You huffed, mumbling, "Yeah, because you were the reason for 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 of them."
Luigi had the audacity to look proud of himself.
Shaking your head, you knelt down to grab your shoes—only to pause when Luigi was already holding them out for you.
You blinked. He hadn’t even looked when he grabbed them, but somehow, he’d picked your favorite pair without hesitation.
"Thanks," you muttered, taking them from him and slipping them on.
𝘞𝘰𝘸. 𝘏𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴.
Trying not to dwell on that thought, you focused on tying the laces as he and your mom continued chatting in the background.
As you turned toward the door, your mom shot Luigi a knowing look and said, "Have fun, you two."
Luigi, ever the dramatist, winked. "Always."
You groaned, dragging him out before your mom could say anything else.
--
The drive to the theater was filled with the comforting hum of Luigi talking about his latest projects—his robotics club, a coding competition he was prepping for, and some AI program he was messing around with in his free time.
You listened, chin resting against the window, watching the scenery blur past as he talked with the kind of enthusiasm that made even the most complicated things sound interesting. You didn’t understand half of it, but you liked listening to him when he got like this.
"I swear," he was saying, hands gesturing slightly even as he drove, "if we can just get the wiring right, we might actually have a shot at regionals. But our bot keeps shorting out—probably a connection issue, but it’s a pain to debug."
You hummed, finally tearing your gaze from the view. "Must be nice, doing what you love."
He glanced at you. "You say that like you don’t have something."
You sighed dramatically. "I have school. Which is, as you know, so-so."
He snorted. "Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad."
You shot him a look. "You don’t go to my school."
"Fair enough."
The conversation lulled, filled only by the soft hum of music. Then, you frowned.
"Luigi, why is your playlist just Italian opera and ‘80s power ballads?"
"Because I have taste."
"You have 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨."
He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "I can’t believe you’re insulting my music. On Valentine’s Day. This is a betrayal."
"You dragged me out of bed for this. I have no sympathy."
He only grinned as he pulled into the parking lot, smoothly parking the car before shutting off the engine.
As you stepped out, you stretched your arms, taking in the crisp evening air. Luigi swung his keys around his finger, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"You’re buying the snacks," you announced, nudging him with your elbow.
Luigi scoffed, slipping his keys into his pocket. "Excuse me? Who drove us here?"
"And whose idea was this in the first place?" you shot back.
He groaned dramatically. "Fine."
He stepped closer, slipping his hand into yours before casually leading you toward the theater entrance—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Inside, the lobby buzzed with quiet chatter, the air thick with the scent of buttered popcorn. Couples filled the space, some leaning in close, others laughing softly, hands intertwined. A group of friends huddled by the arcade machines, their laughter ringing through the air, while a few stragglers lingered near the concession stand, debating between nachos or pretzels.
For a brief moment, you wondered what the two of you must look like to everyone else. Standing close, hands brushing in passing, caught up in your usual back-and-forth. Did you look like a couple? Just friends? The thought barely had time to settle before Luigi was already halfway across the lobby.
You blinked. One second, he was beside you, and the next, he was at the ticket booth, leaning on the counter with that easy, lopsided grin of his.
“Two for 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 & 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴, please,” he said, voice smooth and effortless.
The cashier, a wide-eyed girl who looked barely out of high school, stared at him like he had just walked out of a movie himself. Her hand hovered over the register for a beat too long, and when she finally moved, it was stiff, almost robotic, as if her brain had temporarily short-circuited.
Luigi drummed his fingers against the counter, waiting. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
He tilted his head. “Uh…hello?”
The girl startled, cheeks going bright red as she fumbled with the tickets. “Oh! Right! S-Sorry!” She all but shoved them into his hands, avoiding his gaze.
“Thanks,” Luigi said, completely unfazed, already turning back to you like the whole exchange hadn’t happened. “Let’s go.”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Completely 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, as usual.
As the two of you walked away, he handed you your ticket, his fingers brushing against yours in the process. It was a fleeting touch—barely even there—but for some reason, you still felt the warmth linger.
You cleared your throat, trying to ignore it. “What even is this movie about?”
He glanced at you with a lazy grin. “No idea. Guess we’ll find out.”
Without hesitation, he nodded toward the snack bar, raising his brows with a knowing smile before reaching for your hand and pulling you along.
“What do you want to eat?”
You scanned the glowing menu, the scent of butter and caramel thick in the air. Your eyes flicked between the options—classic buttered popcorn or caramel? Maybe nachos? Or—
Luigi let out a dramatic sigh, but there was no real frustration behind it, just amused fondness. “You always do this.”
“I do not—”
“You take forever to decide, and then you end up getting the same thing anyway,” he teased, tilting his head as if he had you completely figured out.
“That’s not true,” you argued, even as your gaze inevitably drifted back to the popcorn.
He grinned, eyes warm with something too smug to be gentle but too soft to be cocky. “Fine. Surprise me.”
You narrowed your eyes at him before finally huffing. “Popcorn. Buttered.”
Luigi snorted. “Shocking.”
You smacked his arm, which only made his grin widen, and placed the order. Soon enough, the two of you were heading into the theater, snacks in hand, ready for whatever mess of a movie awaited you.
--
The theater was dimly lit, the screen casting a soft glow over the rows of seats as trailers played in the background. You followed Luigi down the aisle, settling into your seats as he casually tossed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. The plush chairs sank comfortably beneath you, the hum of quiet chatter filling the space as more people filtered in.
Then, the lights dimmed completely, and the opening credits rolled.
You had no idea what to expect from 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 & 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘴—a so-called romcom that, according to the reviews, started as a cheesy small-town love story but somehow ended up featuring an intergalactic war. Curious but trying to avoid spoilers, you’d skimmed a few summaries beforehand, just enough to get a vague idea of what you were walking into.
You were not disappointed.
It opened like any generic romcom—a small-town baker meets an uptight businessman who’s only in town to close a deal. They bicker, they flirt, they almost kiss in the rain. Classic.
Then, twenty minutes in, a 𝘜𝘍𝘖 crashed into the bakery.
From there, it spiraled into absolute chaos. The businessman turned out to be a secret government agent, the baker was apparently the last descendant of an ancient alien bloodline, and their "will-they-won't-they" was constantly interrupted by bug-eyed extraterrestrials demanding the Crystal of Eternity—which, for some reason, was hidden inside a croissant.
The dialogue was so bad that it was almost genius. The transitions looked like they were made in Microsoft PowerPoint, complete with random spinning text and star wipes. The CGI was so atrocious that, at one point, you were pretty sure you saw an actor in a green suit—not edited out, just standing there in full view.
Luigi was having the time of his life.
You, on the other hand, were fighting a losing battle. You tried to look annoyed, arms crossed, glaring at the screen, but the corners of your mouth twitched with every ridiculous line. Your eyes watered from the effort of keeping it together, refusing to give Luigi the satisfaction of knowing you were actually enjoying this disaster.
"I can feel my brain cells dying," you muttered.
Luigi snorted. "You love it."
"I hate it."
"You’re grinning."
"No, I’m not—"
A sudden explosion cut you off. One of the main characters launched themselves into the air, dual-wielding rolling pins, screaming about avenging their dead hamster.
You lost it.
Laughter burst out of you so suddenly that Luigi nearly choked on his popcorn. His eyes widened as he quickly reached over, covering your mouth in a panic. "Shh! People are trying to—" He glanced around.
There was no one left.
The theater was empty except for the two of you.
Luigi blinked. "Huh. Well, I guess it’s okay then."
Before he could say anything else, you grabbed his arm, shaking him urgently. "Look! Oh my god, look!" You could barely get the words out between wheezes of laughter, jabbing a finger toward the screen.
Luigi turned just in time to see one of the aliens dramatically remove their helmet—only to reveal another, smaller alien underneath.
For a second, there was silence. Luigi turned back to you, his amusement shifting into something softer. He watched you for a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners, taking in how breathless you were from laughter, how hard you were trying (𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨) to keep it together.
Then he gave in.
He threw his head back and laughed with you, loud and shameless.
Eventually, the credits rolled and the both of you stumbled out of the theater, still caught in the aftershocks of that whole experience.
"And then—then the rolling pin caught fire mid-air, and they just kept going!" you exclaimed, waving your hands wildly as if he hadn't been sitting right beside you the whole time.
Luigi just shook his head, in amusement. "No, no, the best part was when the alien general tried to monologue, and the baker just threw a baguette at his head."
You gasped. "Oh my god, the baguette! That was cinematic gold."
Still caught up in your rambling, neither of you had the energy to go anywhere else, so you ended up grabbing dinner at a nearby diner. Between bites of food, you continued dissecting the movie, bickering over which scene was peak comedy and which was just plain awful— 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩, 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵.
By the time you left, the night air was cool, and a quiet sense of ease had settled over you both.
The drive back was peaceful, the steady hum of the truck lulling you into drowsiness. You leaned against the window, eyes fluttering shut, the remnants of laughter still curling at the edges of your lips.
At some point, Luigi glanced over, noticing the way your head lolled slightly with the movement of the truck. Without a word, he took one hand off the wheel, reaching over to gently brush a few strands of hair from your face. His fingers lingered for a second before he pulled away, his gaze flicking back to the road with a small, unreadable smile.
It was late when he pulled into your driveway, the truck rumbling to a stop.
You stirred, blinking groggily as you reached for the door handle. Just as you were about to hop out, Luigi hesitated, his hands still gripping the steering wheel.
"Hey," he said suddenly. "Come with me for a sec."
You frowned but followed as he led you past your house, toward the old wooden fence that separated your yards.
Your feet stilled.
It was the same place where you first met.
Luigi walked over to his side of the fence, resting his arms on top like he had all those years ago. The moonlight softened the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows over the curve of his smile.
"Déjà vu?" he murmured.
You exhaled, fingers curling around the old wood. "Yeah."
And then he pulled out a small box.
You weren’t sure when it happened—when he changed.
It should’ve been obvious. You had grown up together, side by side, sharing childhood memories, scraped knees, and inside jokes no one else would ever understand. But standing here now, something felt… different.
Luigi had always been taller, but now he was considerably so. His shoulders had broadened, his features sharpened, and when he smiled, it wasn’t just the dorky grin you used to tease him about. It was something else. Something that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t know how to name.
How had you never noticed?
"You okay?" His voice pulled you back, warm and familiar.
You blinked. "Huh?"
He chuckled, running a hand through his thick curls. "You’re staring at me."
You felt your face heat up immediately. "No, I’m not!"
Luigi raised a brow, clearly amused, but didn’t push it. Instead, he handed you the box, wrapped neatly with a ribbon.
You hesitated. "…What’s this?"
His smile softened. "Just open it."
Still suspicious, you untied the ribbon. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple yet thoughtful. Tiny charms dangled from the chain: a little book, a paintbrush, a chicken, and a tiny 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺.
Your heart squeezed.
It looked familiar.
You’d seen this bracelet before. Months ago, while waiting for Luigi at the mall, you had lingered by a shop window, admiring it. You had traced the glass with your fingertips, debating, but in the end, you had walked away. It wasn’t something you could afford at the time.
"You bought this?" Your voice was quieter now.
Luigi shrugged, the tips of his ears faintly pink. “Happy Valentine’s Day… I guess.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Took a while to find the right charms, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. “Figured you’d like it.”
You turned the bracelet over in your hands, the silver catching the light. It was so you. Every tiny detail, every little piece—it was as if he had taken everything he knew about you and turned it into something you could wear.
"You can add more," he added, his voice softer now. "Y’know… as we make more memories."
Like it? You wanted to scream.
You swallowed, your chest too tight. "You’re… really sweet, you know that?" The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Luigi laughed lightly. "I know."
You smacked his arm, rolling your eyes, but your cheeks were warm.
"You? Bought jewelry? You literally wear the same three shirts all the time—I'm surprised you wore something new today!" you blurted out.
Luigi huffed. "Okay, rude."
You shook your head, still trying to process it. "Why?"
He glanced away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You looked at it a few months ago," he admitted quietly.
𝘖𝘩.
You swallowed, the weight of the moment settling in your chest. "Thank you," you said softly, turning the bracelet over in your fingers. Then, before you could overthink it, you held it out to him. "Can you put it on me?"
Luigi blinked, like he hadn’t expected that, but then nodded. "Yeah," he murmured.
His fingers brushed against your wrist as he clasped the bracelet, careful, steady. The warmth of his touch lingered even after he pulled away.
The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—He had always seen you. Always paid attention, always remembered.
And when you looked at him now, it wasn’t just your best friend standing there.
It was Luigi.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘓𝘶𝘪𝘨𝘪.
His name settled differently in your mind, as if you'd never truly looked at him until now.
The boy who used to trip over his own feet chasing fireflies in the backyard. The boy who once ate an entire lemon on a dare and regretted it immediately. The boy who, at some point, had grown into someone so gentle and wonderful.
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the space between you.
Luigi hesitated, his fingers flexing against the fence like he was holding something back. Then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he murmured, “You know… I used to think we'd always be just kids, messing around like we always did.”
You frowned, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”
He let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just—sometimes, I wonder if we ever really changed or if we’re just... realizing things we never noticed before.”
Your stomach flipped.
He wasn’t looking at you now, eyes fixed on the ground like he wasn’t sure he wanted to meet yours. And maybe that was for the best, because if he did, he might have seen the way your breath hitched. The way your fingers curled tighter around the bracelet.
But then, just as quickly as the moment had come, Luigi exhaled sharply and flashed you a grin—the same easy, teasing grin he always wore. “Nevermind,” he said, waving a hand. “I’m just being weird.”
Your heart thumped.
Luigi wasn’t the type to hesitate. He always said what was on his mind, even when it got him in trouble. But now—now he was quiet. Like he was measuring his words, weighing them carefully before letting them slip.
And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear them.
Because if you did—if he said what you thought he might—you didn’t know what it would mean for the two of you.
Your fingers tightened around the edge of the fence. "Luigi—"
He cut you off with a small chuckle, like he was trying to brush it away. "Forget it. Just—just wear the bracelet, okay?" His voice was light, teasing even, but there was something else underneath. Something unsure.
Your chest ached.
Maybe it was better to let it go. Maybe whatever he was about to say would change everything.
You looked at him then—not just as your best friend, not as the boy who’d been there through every scraped knee and stupid inside joke—but as someone standing right in front of you, waiting for you to see him.
And you 𝘥𝘪𝘥.
"Okay," you said softly, “I’ll never take it off."
Luigi’s eyes flickered to yours, something unreadable passing through them before he nodded. "Good."
A pause. A breath. A shift in the air between you.
Then he grinned again, easy and familiar. "Anyway, I should go before my mom thinks I’ve been kidnapped."
You snorted. "Yeah, wouldn’t want 𝘡𝘪𝘢 Kathy to worry."
He stepped back, lingering for just a moment longer before finally turning toward his house.
"Night, Lu," you called out.
"Night," he echoed, glancing over his shoulder, eyes warm.
You stood there for a moment, fingers still curled around the bracelet, the silence between you feeling different now—charged, something unspoken hanging in the air.
You weren’t running through muddy fields anymore, weren’t tumbling into lakes or daring each other to climb trees that were way too high.
But you were still you.
And he was still him.
Taking a steady breath, you turned to head inside—
“Hey!"
His voice stopped you in your tracks.
You spun back just in time to see him grinning at you from across the fence, cupping his hands around his mouth.
"I Love you!!!"
You snorted. "You’re so dramatic."
"You’re not saying it back!"
You rolled your eyes but still yelled, "I Love you too!!"
𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭.
You had always said it—after dumb arguments, before hanging up the phone, yelled across parking lots, muttered when someone needed a favor, and laughed out in the middle of crowded rooms after some stupid inside joke. It had become second nature, a habit neither of you thought twice about.
But tonight, as you met his gaze, something about it felt...𝘯𝘦𝘸.
His smile softened, his eyes warm and unreadable.
And for the first time, you wondered if he’d meant it differently all along.