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When you were both nine years old, Luigi didn’t fully understand what love was—let alone that there were different kinds of it. He just knew that whatever he felt when he was with you, this warm, settled feeling in his chest, meant he wanted you to stay. It wasn’t like the love he had for his family, or the easy fondness he felt for other friends. It was something else, something quieter. Something just for you.
𝗢 𝗻 𝗲
It started with the treehouse summer project.
Weeks of planning, gathering wood, and sneaking extra nails from the garage when the supply ran low. You and Luigi, along with your dads, spent countless afternoons under the sweltering sun, hammering planks together, brushing sawdust off your arms, and arguing over what color the walls should be.
(𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦. 𝘓𝘶𝘪𝘨𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩—𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦.)
A couple of hours had passed since the last nail had been hammered in. Your dads had long since wandered off to grab coffee, leaving you and Luigi free to do as you pleased with the freshly finished treehouse.
You’d wasted no time making it your own. Back and forth you went between your houses, lugging up pillows, blankets, and a collection of small things to make the space feel like yours.
Now, with the work finally done, you both sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, catching your breath. The little window you had insisted on having let in a soft breeze, rustling through the mismatched pillows and blankets strewn across the floor.
The treehouse wasn’t perfect, the roof slanted a little, and the door stuck if you pulled too hard, but it was yours. Just yours and Luigi’s. Just the two of you, tucked away in your own little world.
The thought made him smile.
He leaned back on his hands, tilting his head toward you. “Wouldn’t it be nice if this was just ours? Like… forever?”
He didn’t even fully know what he meant—only that, right then, it felt true. Like if he could freeze the moment and stay in it with you, he would.
You blinked at him, thinking. “Just me and you?”
He nodded, suddenly feeling shy.
You hummed, drawing lazy circles on the wooden floor with your finger. “That’d be nice. We could do whatever we want in here. No one to tell us to be quiet, no one to barge in…”
Luigi listened quietly, not really waiting for anything, he just liked hearing you talk. You always had a way of painting the world with your words.
“I’d bring my sketchbook, and you could bring your little robots and stuff. I’d paint a whole wall just for fun, and you could tinker with your gadgets, and we’d—” you paused, thoughtful. “We’d probably get hungry a lot. Do you think your mom would let us take some of her lasagna up here?”
Luigi smiled at that. “Maybe if we ask really nicely.”
You nodded, satisfied. “Yeah. And we could collect stuff, too. Like cool rocks. And buttons.”
Luigi’s heart thumped a little harder. The idea of just… being with you, always, felt right. The way you said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world, made his chest feel warm.
You turned to him, resting your chin on your knees. “You really wanna stay here forever?”
Luigi hesitated, fingers picking at a loose thread on his shorts. He wanted to say something bigger, something that would make you look at him differently.
Instead, he just shrugged. “Yeah.”
You grinned, stretching your legs out in front of you. “It’d be like a never-ending sleepover. Just us, all the time.”
Luigi swallowed. “Yeah… just us.”
You nodded, already planning where your paints would go, how many snacks you could sneak in, which corner would be best for reading.
Luigi stayed quiet, letting your voice fill the space, warm and familiar.
You didn’t understand what he really meant.
He didn’t, either—not entirely.
But maybe one day, the both of you would.
𝘁 𝘄 𝗼
Thirteen was an odd age.
Too old for tag but too young for real freedom. Stuck somewhere between childhood and whatever came next, you and Luigi spent another summer doing what you always did—racing bikes down the street, stretching out under the sun, and wandering the neighborhood with no real destination in mind.
Today was one of those lazy afternoons.
The sun was high, cicadas hummed in the trees, and the scent of freshly cut grass lingered in the warm air. You were both sprawled out on the lawn behind Luigi’s house, lying on opposite ends of an old picnic blanket, staring at the sky.
Luigi broke the comfortable silence. “Hey… have you noticed how weird Marcus and Ava have been acting lately?”
You turned your head, curious. “Weird 𝘩𝘰𝘸?”
“I dunno. They keep arguing over the dumbest things, but they still hang out all the time.” He frowned slightly. “Yesterday, Marcus said Ava was annoying, and then two seconds later, he gave her the last slice of pizza.”
You snorted. “Oh, that’s because they like each other.”
Luigi blinked. “What?”
“They totally do,” you said knowingly. “But they don’t realize it yet, so they just keep fighting instead of admitting it. Classic.”
Luigi raised a brow. “And you know this because…?”
You scoffed. “Because I’m an expert in romance, obviously.”
“Oh yeah?” He propped himself up on one elbow. “Since when?”
“Since 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧,” you said dramatically. “I’ve watched, like, a hundred romcoms.”
Luigi snorted. “That doesn’t make you an expert.”
“Sure, it does.” You rolled onto your stomach, kicking your feet in the air. “I’ve seen all the classics—the formula. Two people argue all the time, but really, it’s just tension. And then, right at the end, they stand in the rain, all dramatic, and finally confess.” You gestured vaguely. “𝘽𝙤𝙤𝙢—kissing, dating, happily ever after.”
Luigi frowned. “Crying in the rain sounds kinda miserable.”
“That’s not the point.”
“So what is the point?”
“The point is, Marcus and Ava are totally in denial.”
Luigi huffed, flopping back down. “Maybe they just like arguing.”
You snorted. “Sure, and maybe you like eating burnt toast.”
“That happened one time.”
“𝘜𝘩-𝘩𝘶𝘩. And you said it added ‘flavor.’”
Luigi groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Forget I said anything.”
You smirked. “Oh, no. I’m definitely bringing this up again.”
He huffed, flopping onto his back. The cicadas hummed, the breeze rustled the grass, and the warm summer air stretched between you in comfortable silence.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯—
“…How about you?” he asked, trying for casual. “Do you like someone?”
You shrugged. “I like you.”
Luigi’s breath hitched. His brain short-circuited.
His ears burned. “I— what? I mean—” He sat up so fast he nearly got dizzy. “I—I like you too—”
But before he could finish, you gasped.
“Oh! Look up! That cloud looks like a turtle!”
Luigi's words died on his tongue. He blinked at you, then at the sky.
“…A turtle,” he repeated flatly.
"Yeah, look!" You pointed excitedly. "It even has little legs!"
Luigi groaned, flopping back down. "Forget about the turtle! You just said something important! What did you mean?!"
You barely glanced at him. "Huh? I mean, I like you, obviously. You're my best friend."
Luigi stared at the sky, unblinking. His soul left his body.
That night, he collapsed onto his bed, pressing a pillow over his face.
“For someone who claims to be a romance expert, you sure didn’t notice what I was trying to tell you,” he grumbled into the fabric.
A soft knock on his door. “𝘛𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘰, are you alright?”
Luigi peeked out from under the pillow to see his mom standing there, smiling sweetly.
He forced a small smile. “Yes, Mama. Everything’s okay.”
His mother gave him a look, one that said she wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t press. “Well, alright, sweetie. Get some sleep. Goodnight—love you.”
Luigi exhaled, sinking further into his pillow. “Goodnight. Love you too.”
She lingered for a moment before nodding and softly shutting the door behind her.
As the room settled into quiet, Luigi rolled onto his side, reaching over to switch off his lamp. In the darkness, he let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling.
“Stupid cloud. Stupid timing. Stupid sky turtle.”
𝘁 𝗵 𝗿 𝗲 𝗲
The gym was a blur of glitter, nerves, and yelling teachers. Costumes shimmered, kids zigzagged across the polished floor like panicked ants, and the scent of hair gel and juice boxes hung in the air like fog.
Luigi hovered near the back, clutching a water bottle and scanning the chaos until he spotted you, sitting off to the side with your dance group. You were twisting the hem of your skirt like it personally offended you, leg bouncing so fast he could practically hear it vibrating.
He made his way over, weaving through costumed classmates and narrowly avoiding getting hip-checked by someone in sequins. Mr. Reyes wasn’t paying attention, so Luigi took his chance.
“You okay?” he asked, crouching beside you.
You startled. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
“I brought a peace offering,” he said, holding up the water bottle like it was made of gold. “Emergency hydration delivery.”
You raised an eyebrow. “How’d you even get past Mr. Reyes?”
“Bribed a fifth grader. I’ll deal with the consequences later.”
You huffed a small laugh, but your fingers were still fidgeting. Luigi sat down cross-legged next to you.
“You’ve got this,” he said. “I’ve seen you practice like, what, a 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 now?”
You laughed, nerves cracking just a little. “If it were actually a hundred times, I’d be dead by now. It was probably only, like, thirty. Tops.”
“And I’m pretty sure I still turn the wrong way during that spin in the middle.”
Luigi raised an eyebrow. “Then just spin dramatically and confuse the judges. Make it look intentional.”
You groaned. “If I ruin the group’s timing, I’m moving schools.”
“Okay, how about this,” Luigi said, leaning closer. “If you mess up, I’ll stand up in the middle of the gym and sing the entire Spongebob theme song at full volume.”
You stared at him. “…Tempting.”
He blinked. “Wait, what?”
You smirked. “I might mess up on purpose just to see that happen.”
“Oh, come on now.”
You shrugged, pretending to think. “It’d be worth it.”
“You’re a menace.”
“You’re the one who said it first.”
He groaned dramatically, flopping back onto his hands. “I take it back. No singing. I’ll just hurl myself into the snack table instead.”
You laughed, and it was real this time—less “I might puke,” more “this is kind of okay.” He grinned at the sound.
“Here,” he said, pulling a slightly squashed candy out of his hoodie pocket. “It’s probably still edible. For luck.”
You accepted it like it was a sacred charm. “Thanks, lucky gremlin.”
“Emotionally supportive gremlin,” he corrected.
Your group was called up, and you shot him one last look as you stood. “Get your lungs ready. I’m going down in flames.”
Luigi snorted. “You trip and I’m singing in pirate voice. Don’t test me.”
But you didn’t trip.
You were nervous, sure—but as the music kicked in, Luigi watched the worry melt from your shoulders. You found the rhythm, your steps syncing with the group, your movements steady. By the time you smiled, an honest, brilliant grin, he felt something crack wide open in his chest.
You weren’t perfect. But you were having fun. And you were trying.
And somehow that was better.
When the song ended, he clapped like a maniac, possibly louder than your actual teacher. You looked into the crowd, found him, and grinned wider.
And Luigi, sitting there with candy wrappers in his hoodie pocket and way too many feelings in his chest, knew there was no denying it now.
He was so far gone for you.
𝗳 𝗼 𝘂 𝗿
Fifteen was the year things started getting weird.
Not in a bad way, exactly—just 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵.
People started acting strange around each other. Friends whispered about crushes in hushed tones. Lunch tables split into couples and third wheels. Even you weren’t immune to it, thanks to J-name, the persistent flirt who somehow missed every single hint that you weren’t interested.
It started with small things, passing notes in class, walking with you between periods, finding excuses to touch your arm. Luigi didn’t even go to your school, but he still knew all about J-name.
You made sure of that.
“Dude,” you groaned one afternoon, flopping onto Luigi’s couch. “He wrote me a poem.”
Luigi, sitting upside down in the armchair, snorted. “Romantic.”
You pulled the crumpled note from your pocket, sighing. “It was about my ‘𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦’ and how I ‘𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯??’”
“What? Look like the moon? What does he mean by that?” He asked with an eyebrow raised in mock confusion.
“I don’t know, man. He also said my eyes ‘𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦… um…’” You squinted at the paper. “‘𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.’”
Luigi snorted. “Ok, Shakespeare.”
“Oh wait, this part isn't that bad. He wrote, ‘𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘮 / 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.’”
Luigi covered an upcoming laugh with a fist to his mouth. “ I mean, it's got a ring to it?”
“Some of these don't even make sense, Luigi. He tried, though. ‘𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 / 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵 / 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 / 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵.’”
Luigi clutched his chest, gasping for air. “Forget my feet?!”
“It’s real. I have the evidence right here!” You waved the note in his face.
He laughed so hard he nearly fell off the chair.
It never stopped. J-name—Jacob? Jared? Julian? Whatever—was relentless. And no matter how much you complained, Luigi just found the whole thing hilarious.
“I swear, he just doesn’t stop.” You took another bite of the cookie Luigi’s mom had left out for you. “I said I wasn’t interested, but he just laughed. Like, what am I supposed to do?”
Luigi, sitting cross-legged beside you, drummed his fingers on his knee. “We could pretend to date. Y’know, so he backs off.”
You snorted mid-bite, nearly choking. “Ha!..Imagine. That would be hilarious.”
Luigi forced a smile. “Yeah… hilarious.”
You high-fived him for the "𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘦."
He stared at his hand afterward, wishing he could take back every word.
You mumbled around a bit of cookie. “Like anyone would believe that.”
Luigi laughed too, but for some reason—it kind of stung.
Still, he let it go.
And then the town’s annual spring fair rolled around.
You went together—along with Marcus and Ava, who, despite two years of constant bickering, were still totally in denial about liking each other.
Luigi finally got to witness J-name in action.
It happened when you were all grabbing snacks. He had just handed you a bag of warm churros when your eyes widened in alarm. Without thinking, you grabbed his sleeve and tugged him closer.
“Don’t look behind you,” you whispered urgently.
Luigi immediately looked behind him.
“Ohhh,” he murmured, realization dawning. “That’s him?”
You groaned, trying to use him as a human shield. “Why do you never listen to me?”
Too late.
Luigi was grinning like he’d just won a game. “Wait, wait, I need to see what this guy pulls out of his hat this time.”
J-name approached with his usual confident stride. “Hey, there you are,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I was looking for you.”
Luigi elbowed you lightly. “𝘎𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦,’ huh?”
You subtly kicked him in the shin.
“Hey, uh… Jeremy?”
J-name blinked. “My name is Jack.”
“Oh….” You winced. “Sorry, Jack.”
He just laughed. “Anyway, I was thinking, wanna go on the Ferris wheel with me? I’ve got tickets.”
You opened your mouth—probably to let him down gently again, but something about his tone gave you pause. He sounded… genuine. Less showy than usual, more hopeful. It made you hesitate.
And that made Luigi nervous.
He hadn't expected you to actually consider it. For a split second, the idea flashed through his mind—what if you said yes? What if you left with Jack and he was just standing there, holding your churros like a side character?
Without thinking, his arm slipped around your shoulders. “She’s busy,” he said casually, though the tightness in his voice gave him away. “Right, 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘰?”
You turned so fast you nearly dropped your churros.
“…Yeah?”
Jack blinked. “Oh. You guys are, like… together?”
Luigi, without hesitation: “Yep.”
Jack frowned. “For real?”
You crossed your arms. “What, is that so hard to believe?”
“Nah, nah, I just—” He scratched the back of his head, looking genuinely confused. “You never said you had a boyfriend.”
You sighed. “Because I don’t.”
Jack’s brows furrowed. “…Huh?”
Luigi grinned, tightening his arm around your shoulders. “She’s just shy.”
You rolled your eyes. “He’s joking.”
Jack tilted his head. “So… that’s a no on the Ferris wheel?”
“Yeah,” you said, but kindly. “But thanks, though.”
Before Jack could respond, Ava appeared out of nowhere, grabbing your arm.
“There you are! Marcus is being so stubborn, I need backup,” she huffed, already dragging you off.
“What—Ava, wait—”
But she wasn’t listening.
Luigi barely had time to shoot you an amused look before you disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone with Jack.
Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You like her too, don’t you?”
Luigi scoffed. “What?”
Jack smirked. “C’mon, man. I’m not blind.”
Luigi raised a brow. “That’s ironic.”
Jack frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” Luigi muttered, scanning the crowd for you and Ava.
He shook his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Funny. He hadn’t even realized you were trying to let Jack down gently, yet here Jack was, reading him like an open book.
Jack just shrugged. “Anyway, it’s the way you look at her, dude. Surprised she hasn’t noticed herself.”
Luigi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… not sure if I should be grateful she’s oblivious or not.”
Jack huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Good luck, bro.”
Then, as if this whole conversation hadn’t just happened, he stretched lazily and muttered, “I’m gonna go get a corndog.”
Luigi just huffed out an exasperated breath, shaking his head.
Before he could think too hard about it, you returned, looking drained.
“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Marcus and Ava are both so annoying.”
Luigi just smiled at you, then turned back to Jack. “Bye, man.”
Jack grinned knowingly. “Later, dude.”
You frowned. “What were you two talking about?”
Luigi just shrugged. “Nothing much.”
You squinted at him, unconvinced, but Ava called your name, so you let it go, sighing as you followed Luigi back to where Marcus and Ava were arguing over something again.
𝗳 𝗶 𝘃 𝗲
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that you were 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Your body was burning, your throat raw, and even the dim light seeping through your curtains made you groan. Every movement sent a dull ache through your skull, and reaching for the glass of water on your nightstand felt like trying to lift a boulder.
School? Not happening.
You must’ve drifted in and out of sleep again, because the next thing you heard was a knock at your bedroom door.
“Honey?” your mom called gently. “You okay in there?”
You gave a hoarse little noise in response.
There was a pause—then her voice came again, teasing and warm. “Sweetie… guess who’s here?”
You didn’t even need to guess.
“I brought soup,” came Luigi’s voice.
Your mom chuckled softly. “He says it’s homemade, but I’m pretty sure it was his mom who made it.”
The door opened just a crack as she peeked in. “You decent, baby?”
You slowly sat up, bundled like a half-melted burrito. “Kinda.”
She smiled and stepped inside, holding a thermometer. “Let me just check your temp real quick, hon.”
You leaned forward, letting her do her thing, and after a moment, she nodded. “Good. It’s going down now. That medicine’s kicking in.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead, then turned to Luigi and patted his shoulder with a grin. “Take care of her, alright?”
“Always, 𝘻𝘪𝘢,” Luigi said smoothly.
With that, your mom left, closing the door behind her.
You turned to Luigi with a croaky voice. “You didn’t have to come, you know…”
He raised an eyebrow and set the plastic bag down. “You look awful.”
You stared at him, deadpan. “Wow. Thanks.”
He just shrugged. “I mean, not worse than usual.”
You kicked at him weakly under the blanket. He dodged it with practiced ease.
You stared at Luigi, still trying to process his presence.
“…What are you doing here?” you croaked, your voice barely there.
“Wanted to see if you were still alive,” he said casually, setting the soup down on your desk. “Looks like it’s a maybe.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “Har 𝘩𝘢𝘳. So funny.”
Then your phone pinged beside you. You picked it up and were greeted with Ava’s usual cheerful energy—well wishes and a copy of the homework for today’s class.
You sighed and started reaching for your notebook, but Luigi immediately intercepted.
“Nope. I’m doing it.”
You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re sick. I’m doing the homework.”
“I’m literally fine,” you argued. “I can do it on my own.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug, already turning to the soup. “Then I won’t touch it... if you lay down and eat some of this first.”
You squinted at him, suspicious. “That’s blackmail.”
“No, it's called taking care of you,” he replied, with an eyebrow raised.
You huffed a laugh and slid back under the blanket, taking the spoon from him. “You’re good.”
He grinned. “I know.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but your stomach let out a traitorous grumble. With a grumble of your own, you shifted up in bed and took the soup he was offering you.
“Tell 𝘻𝘪𝘢 Kathy thank you,” you mumbled, unsealing the container and inhaling the warm, comforting scent.
Luigi’s lips twitched. “She’ll be thrilled. She made me practice carrying it like a waiter the whole way over.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the slight twitching of your lips. “What about your robotics club meeting?”
He shrugged, digging into your pencil case like he belonged there. “We can always do it online.”
You paused mid-sip. “So… you just skipped?”
“I rescheduled,” he said smoothly, already scanning the homework Ava had sent. “No need to worry.”
You blinked at him, touched, even if you’d never admit it out loud. “You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did,” he interrupted, nudging the familiar hoodie toward you. “Eat. Hydrate. Wear this.”
You stared at it for a second, then snorted. “Why’d you bring your hoodie? You know I have my own jackets, right? And heating?”
He shrugged again, like it was no big deal. “I dunno. Thought it’d keep you warm.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were already putting it on. It smelled like him—clean laundry, soap, and something warm you couldn’t name. 𝘚𝘢𝘧𝘦.
You took a slow sip of the soup, the warmth spreading through your body, and sat back against your pillows. Luigi sat beside you, flipping through your homework without saying much. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward, just... comforting. The faint sound of the spoon clinking against the bowl, the gentle rustling of paper as Luigi scribbled in answers with your pencil, it was all familiar.
You finally broke the silence, your voice softer now. "Thank you."
He glanced at you for a second, his lips curling into that trademark smile. "Anytime."
And it wasn’t just this time. It became a tradition. Anytime you were sick, even long before you moved out and went to college—Luigi would show up at your door with food, medicine, and a hoodie. The bag of snacks would almost always come with a note that had his mom's signature on it, even though she wasn’t the one delivering it.
Sometimes he'd drop it off, shoot you a quick text ("𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘦") and leave. Other times, he'd hang around, lounging at the foot of your bed while you dozed off, watching old reruns of cartoons, tissues stuffed in your nose.
And every single time, without fail, you ended up wearing one of his hoodies.
You never did give them back.
+ 𝗼𝗻𝗲
The hum of the dorm room was cozy, the kind of background noise that made everything feel familiar. Luigi was sprawled on the floor beside your bed, a laptop propped up on his knees as he rambled on about some new project. His fingers moved swiftly across the keys, and you could tell he was deep into coding, talking about algorithms and something with binary trees or whatever.
Honestly, you were zoning out. Not because you weren’t interested—it was just... Luigi and his projects always had this way of making time bend, of filling the room with his energy. And right now, you found yourself lost in thought, the words blending together as you stared at the ceiling.
Then, suddenly, it clicked.
Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze mid-thought, a wave of realization crashing over you. Your mind was spinning through the moments, the little things that had happened over the years. It was all so obvious. The way he’d always been there, how his gestures were so... genuine, and how he’d made you feel like you were never alone.
The dance. The homework sessions. The way he made sure you didn’t mess up when you were nervous. The random moments he’d show up with snacks or a stupid joke to make you laugh. Everything. It was all so obvious now.
You blinked, your eyes widening, and you couldn’t help but sit up suddenly, the realization almost knocking you off balance.
“Oh my 𝙜𝙤𝙙,” you whispered aloud.
Luigi’s voice trailed off, and he looked up at you, eyes wide with confusion. “What? Did I mess something up?”
You stared at him, your hands in your lap, your chest tight with the force of everything falling into place. “It was so 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴,” you said again, more to yourself.
He squinted at you. “What was?”
You laughed, shaking your head as everything from the past rushed through your mind, each piece of the puzzle clicking into place. “𝙊𝙈𝙂, Luigi, you were 𝙨𝙤 𝙤𝙗𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨! How did I not notice?”
Luigi blinked at you for a moment, completely lost. “I’m... obvious? What are you talking about?”
You couldn’t contain the smile tugging at your lips. “The dance, the homework, the stupid jokes you told just to make me laugh. You were basically in love with me all that time, and I didn’t even see it!”
Silence fell between you two for a heartbeat.
Then, Luigi let out a long, suffering groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my god. You’re just realizing?!”
You clutched your head, your mind still spinning. “I was so stupid.”
Luigi smirked. “Yeah.”
You smacked his arm. “You’re supposed to say ‘no, you weren’t!’”
He grinned, easily catching your wrist and tugging you closer. “Nah. But you’re my idiot.”
You pouted, but the warmth in his voice made your heart flip. You leaned in closer to him, the realization settling over you like a wave. This whole time, he’d been there. His jokes, his support, his presence—it had all been more than just friendship.
“God, I feel dumb,” you muttered, still processing everything.
“Better late than never,” he teased, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. “But you’re mine now, so... I’m good with it.”
You laughed softly, leaning against him. How had you missed all the signs? Maybe it wasn’t so much about noticing—maybe it was just about realizing when the time was right.
And right now? The time was perfect.