I hadn't meant to upset him.
I thought it was just another friendly session of gaming where we could openly call each other names and say dumb stuff and laugh it off. Thinking about it though, I can plainly see that I was in the wrong and he had every right to get pissed off.
We were playing two-player, kart racing against a gang of AI characters on a three lap course. He was absolutely demolishing my ass the first two rounds and taking every opportunity to wag his smarmy tongue in my face, so needless to say, I was getting a little sick of it. Finally rolling up on the ultimate OP game changer of a power-up, I was glad to put him in his place: last place. As my avatar crossed the finish line in first, I laughed intentionally too loud and said the dumbest possible thing ever.
"Last place! You can't even win against a kid, no wonder you're still single, biiiitch."
By the time the words had left my dumb grinning mouth and I looked him in the face, he was completely red, he looked not just hurt but straight up betrayed, and his breath came and went with small shudders.
'Oh, shit,' I realized, 'that was the wrong button to push.'
He kept his face turned away from me after that, throwing his controller down and storming over to his room, slamming the door after him.
I sat in quiet for the next few moments, only the low volume of game music drifting through the silence as I stared after where he'd gone. I hated myself. I hated the way I took losing too personally sometimes and retaliated with hurtful attacks on my friends' most vulnerable insecurities.
It was especially bad when I directed that hurt on him, being that I practically lived with him at this point, and I knew I had more to fear than just his spite.
I'm positive right now that he'll never fully forgive me for it. He'll never trust me with a major secret again, maybe never trust anyone at all.
As I finish putting away the game and shutting off the system, I sigh, eyes trailing back to the door on the automatic. I have to say something. I know he doesn't want me anywhere near him right now, but I can't just leave him with his thoughts, it'll drive him crazy. It'll drive me crazy to know that he's depressed again. Fuck.
I knock softly, not bothering with the handle; it's locked. I hear shuffling quickly succeeded by what sounds like a heavy book smashing into the door and clattering on the carpet.
"Go fuck yourself!"
That was the response I had expected. I have to steel myself before replying.
"... I didn't mean it, Ma-"
More crashing sounds and suddenly stomping coming straight toward me. I only just manage to step back a foot before the door is ripped open and I'm glared through with those ice blue eyes, now puffy and red from the tears I knew he was holding in.
"I trusted you," he started, his left fist clenched at his side and his other hand pointing accusingly down at my feet, "you heartless bastard! You always do this- you pretend to be sensitive and get me to tell you what's bothering me, and then you throw it in my face!"
Still formulating a rebuttal, I stagger backwards as he shoves me out of his way and starts for the front door.
"MARIO, GOD-DAMN-IT!" I lunge forward and grab his forearm, which he promptly tears out of my grasp and sets a poisonous gaze on me again. "I didn't mean it, you were being an asshole to me and it slipped out! I'm sorry-"
"Keep your fucking 'sorry'." He growls, but it's barely above a whisper. He's panting with rage, I can feel it, but it's chipping away to it's next phase already: utter despair.
Any second, he'll break into sobbing and almost complete numbness to the point of collapsing on the floor and not responding to any verbal stimulus. I can't let that happen in the middle of the living room, his brother will come home later and I don't want to see the state he'll get into when he sees that.
I expend no second thought, forcibly taking him up in a fireman carry. His kicks and punches hurt, and he's heavier than me, sure, but I know I need to get him back to his bed. He's already given up on fighting this.
I lay him down as carefully as I can, his mentally exhausted body rolling limp onto the mattress. His eyes are glazed and streaming tears, his chest is heaving unevenly, but he's at least safer and arguably more comfortable here than he would be on the hardwood floor.
The rest of his room is trashed, so now that he's off in the corner of his own mind, I decide to clean it up. Best for him to come to in a room that shows no sign of his past aggression.
After I finish, I sit with him, gently stroking the back of his hand with my thumb and dabbing his wet cheeks with tissue after tissue, saying how sorry I am and assuring him that he's an incredible person who deserves love.
"She's a fool to not want to marry you. Heck, I'd marry you and be damn-well happy about it. You're such a good man, Mario. An amazing friend... A caring, generous individual. You put your life on the line doing what's right and you never back down. You have no idea how much I admire all that about you."
He'd started having these episodes about a month after the Odyssey. Peach's initial rejection to his proposal had triggered it, but the signs didn't show until...
A whole month of being free from Bowser's clutches, getting to travel the globe in peace and recover from such a harrowing ordeal of nearly being made to marry the evil Koopa King... Mario finally felt like he could bring it up in casual conversation that he was confused as to why she'd turned him, of all people, down.
Peach said it plainly, in the confidentiality of her own castle walls, to the man that had saved her countless times over the years, that she never intended to marry at all and that she only loved him as a friend.
Long story short, he's been wrought by these debilitating fits of depression for the past year now. Only Luigi, Peach, and I know about it and why it happens. Mario cannot handle being made to feel like he's being used or manipulated. The attacks pass, but only when he's fully aware that no one and nothing is trying to control him.
He won't go to Dr. Toadly for advice, if he's confronted by Bowser or his minions, he wears earplugs to ensure that he can't hear them say anything that might trigger him, and he even avoids visiting Peach without Luigi at his side to make sure he's alright.
It's dark now in his room. The daylight has been burning dull blue behind his window shades for a little while. I reach over to where the lamp is on his dresser and flick it on. Turning back to him, I see his eyes starting to dance over the ceiling. A few blinks later, he raises his head and looks down at me.
The shine in his eyes speaks gratitude, but other than that, he never says thanks.
"...You would marry me... Huh?" He grins cheekily.
There's the Mario I know.
I breathe a sigh of relief and amusement, moving to help him sit up but he motions that he can do it himself. It takes him longer, but he props himself up against the wall, watching his own chest rise and fall steadily in his calm.
"Yeah, well, seriously. Look at that sexy Italian mustache." I tweak the ends of his whiskers teasingly, but not harshly. "You deserve a princess- better than a princess."
He chuckles heartily and I'm glad to have been the cause.
"Shut-a the fuck up," he says, emphasizing his own accent to show he's in a jovial mood, "you're-a so gay, you leave-a rainbows everywhere you sit."
I double over laughing so hard I can't open my eyes, but I know he's smiling. Why do I ever put our friendship in jeopardy when I live for the moments just like this? I really must be a massive jerk to have made him question whether I really appreciate him as either a friend or a utensil.
When I can finally inhale without bubbling into a fit of giggles, I very seriously consider what I'm about to say next. Mario's mellow sapphire eyes snap into mine and I'm sold on my decision.
"I love you, Mario."
He barely raises an eyebrow, scanning my features and apparently believing my conviction.
"I know-a you do. Mario has that effect on-a people." He said it still in his joking tone, but his sincere sideways smile is evidence that he truly acknowledges how I feel and doesn't resent it.
I know he needs personal space to fully recuperate, but I really wish I could hug him. Instead, I rub my sore shoulder-- the one I carried him over.
"And uh, not to imply anything, but," I can't look at him while I say this, just in case I come across as being forward, "if you want to maybe... Go out sometime... The dating scene around the Mushroom Kingdom is kinda hard for human guys who aren't into fungus-fiddling."
I feel my cheeks flushing and further avert my gaze. Mario will probably be quick to pinch my jowls and call me by some embarrassing fairy-related term. Any moment now...
I hear him shift and crawl near to me and brace for whatever he's about to do. Suddenly, a hand under my chin turns me face to face with him- mm..?
His eyes are closed and he's kissing me. My heart squeezes for a second and I forget to breathe. His lips remind me to do so when they part from mine ever so slightly before reestablishing contact a bit harder.
My eyes roll back and all I see are stars. The sensation of his lips pulling and pushing over mine in a passionate massage is so overwhelming, I pay no mind to his impeccably groomed mustache tickling my cheek.
He gradually pulls out of my reach and I open my unfocused eyes to him grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at me.
"Mm. I think the 'dating scene' is looking up for you now."
As I prepare to ask if he's sure, the pillow-talking devil puts his mouth right by my ear and purrs, "Or, we can forego the date and Mario can check your pipes for you~"