Faint whispers lingered in his brain. He was partly there: floating between the cold, suffocating reach of the Underwhere and the living world he'd passed on from. Perhaps he was a ghost, or perhaps each individual neuron in his brain was shutting off, one by one. With each that went, another sliver of his reality short-circuited and disappeared. He was falling; there was nothing below him. He had enough left in him to come to a grim conclusion. His game ended. It was simple as that.

A faint spark of light lived somewhere in his pooling vision. He tried to reach out a hand, but he had no bodily autonomy to speak of. Instead of trying, he continued to fall. The afterlife was quiet. As he plummeted to the void below, forced to recall what happened right before his last moment, the whispers of his body seized. A scream, heart-wrenching in its familiarity, echoed in his mind's space, resounding off and back into the ghostly memory of his senses. He should have been happy with the disconnect from his body. At the very least, the tears wouldn't blind him.

The light, far from him, grew brighter. It was like looking up at the sun beneath the veil of darkest ocean. He didn't speak; he was afraid of water rushing into his lungs. At once, the quiet changed along with his eyesight. It channeled to static, then blackness. When he attempted to open his eyes again, he half-expected to see faces of Shaydes crowding around him: the failed hero. Even in death, he knew there was no running from his mistake. It was going to be the very same mistake left repeating in his brain forevermore.

As fate might have it though, things weren't just changing. They were mirroring, reflecting, juxtaposing. The reflection of the void pushed on his back. Everything suddenly became very, very loud. The glimmering light returned, brighter than ever, consuming his sight.

It was like having a bucket of ice dumped directly on his head. All at once, Luigi's eyes opened wide.

A mangled gasp squeezed out from his throat. Warm sunlight crashed into him, flooding his senses all while pulling him desperately from the cold, oceanic void he'd been spiraling in. He threw himself upwards with a start, gasping loudly, deflated lungs rising as he took a panicked, full breath. His organs restarted as he turned over himself, panting and spittling on himself, coughing hard. Distant, honey-like rays forced him to squint. He went to move, stumbling with misplaced weight and falling over a barrier, landing face-first on the what he quickly realized to be the earth. Sweet, crisp dirt crumbled underneath his twitching hands as they roved over the ground, settling. His throat constricted as he attempted to speak; he opted to utilize his returning senses first.

To his immediate right, something dark blotted his vision, residing in his peripherals. He jumped as he turned to investigate. An open coffin, adorned with emerald jewels, was open. The lid was lying limply off the side. Luigi gulped. Despite himself, he stood up and scooted over, looking inside the coffin with wide, fearful eyes. Thankfully, it was empty. He ran a hand inside, not finding a speck of dust. He ran his fingers together. The interior of the coffin was plush. The indent in the soft satin was fresh.

His blurry moment of escapism moments earlier returned. Eyeballing the coffin, he realized the height of the coffin fit him perfectly. He ran his fingers through his hair, swallowing down a sum of saliva. Rightfully afraid, he released an unsteady breath as he realized what had been laid to rest alongside him. Inside of the coffin, a familiar frayed backpack lay squished along the far side. With an audible gasp, Luigi retrieved it fast, holding it tight. Raindrops, or maybe stray tears, stained and soaked the outside of the bag. He opened it carefully, examining the inside, counting the number of papers and running his fingers on the outside of the Gooigi-containing capsule.

"Arf!"

Luigi couldn't help an instinctual shriek in reaction to the noise. He threw himself over the backpack in his hands, aiming to protect the precious item. He startled and turned quick, one pale hand clutching at his chest. Instead of a horrifying beast, a spectral presence joined him at his side, sitting quietly. The ghost yapped, thriving in the warm glow of dawn. The sweet puppy was almost silent when he moved and floated about; he was missing his collar, after all. He rolled on his back, revealing his belly.

"D-Doggy...?" Luigi croaked.

He reached out hesitantly. Polterpup barked again. He licked Luigi on the face before he went back to the treat lying beneath his paws, chomping mercilessly on a golden bone. Luigi stood dumbfounded for a moment before his trembling hands went to his pockets, finding them still stuffed with the backup bones he'd gathered back at the castle. It was the same, except for the fact one was missing now. Polterpup didn't seem to notice his owner's brief stint of terrified yet relieved realization.

He huffed, steadying himself with a hand on his chest. While Polterpup devoured the golden bone, Luigi turned back to the open coffin. He took in his surroundings slowly. The coffin had been dug up from the ground, lying out on a raised marble slab. For a fleeting moment, with a painful sting gracing his heart, he believed this life he'd been reborn in was coated in that same solid marble that stuck in his mind like poison. The milky stone filled his stare. He shook his head, trying not to envision his doomed boyfriend's unblinking, haunting gaze all around him.

The truth, even more morbid, stared him in the face as he continued to look around. The pair, man and mutt, were in the center of a graveyard. Smiling, laughing faces, etched into mossy gravestones, gazed back at him. Normally, the sight would be unnerving, but such an emotional dissonance only meant one thing; he was still in the Beanbean Kingdom. The rest of the area looked normal enough. Aside from an extreme overgrowth, it was familiar to Luigi. Quickly, he realized something had changed, eyes trailing up to a large overgrowth. It lined the trees, furthering the maze he'd found himself mere... hours... days... weeks, ago. To his knowledge and deduction skills, King Boo had been busy. Luigi's frown dropped further.

An orange sun glared in his vision. Luminescence fell upon his tombstone, sporting his name clear as day in the fading sunlight. Luigi traced each letter with pale fingers.

He looked back. The coffin itself was crusted with fresh dirt. Evidence of forceful claw and bite marks lined the outside wood. Luigi stared as Polterpup gently licked his hand. The prideful pooch sat, waiting for Luigi to speak while wagging his tail. Luigi, still recovering from his newfound breath of life, reached to his pocket and grabbed the collar he'd hung onto since his fated encounter with Hellen at the Hooniversity. He surveyed Polterpup, the pup's bandages missing. As Luigi clipped the collar back on his loyal pet, he noticed that dirt sat imbued on his paws, his illumination making them appear tannish.

For it being a cemetery, there weren't any ghosts visibly hanging around. That was a thankful sight, at least for Luigi. But moonlight was about an hour away, judging by the shining sphere cresting the horizon line. It gave Luigi the impression that most of the ghosts were becoming well acquainted with the cool evenings the kingdom offered.

Luigi turned back to the coffin as he mused. He leaned over, grabbing hold of and shutting the lid securely. He lingered as he did it, running his hand along the smooth mahogany. He had only one guess as to how he'd gotten out here in the first place, and as to who buried him beneath the soil.

"W-What... what do I do now?" He found his own words anything but reassuring. Speaking partially to Polterpup and partially to himself, he sniffled, wiping at his eyes. Polterpup tilted his head, making the faintest sound of confusion. Instead of providing a straightforward answer, he rested his head on Luigi's thigh.

Luigi's shaking hands, pale against the wood of the coffin, slipped down. He fell to his knees, landing in a fetal position. He wailed, breaking into harsh, guttural sobs. His face burned quick, tears slipping from his eyes, cheeks reddened, head swirling with feelings of guilt, anger, and an unquantifiable sadness. Polterpup howled, licking at Luigi's face.

"It's all my fault… this is all my fault…" he repeated the truth like a mantra. He wrung his hands together so hard that his nails drew blood. "Stupid… stupid… stupid..." he whimpered, wiping at his eyes. Polterpup whimpered when his owner did, rubbing against Luigi's side.

The poor man couldn't stop crying. Guilt ate at his core. He knew this had been his doing; there was no denying the fact. He'd wanted so badly to think he was a hero, but it had all been luck and chance. All he wanted to do was show Peasley he could. He wanted to be someone worthy of his love. Luigi choked on his tears as he thought about his boyfriend. He'd never felt so alone. His daring brother and all his friends were across an ocean. Any hopes of communication had been destroyed. E. Gadd was out of commission. He had no Poltergust, he had absolutely no means of defense. If Boo didn't find him first, he knew his growing despair would erase any thoughts of hope he had left.

At the dangerous thinking on his newfound reality continued, Luigi wailed, curling into himself and sobbing until his tears ran dry. He managed a few sputters after, but his throat became dry and his vocal cords were shot. Some hints of logic managed to sneak into his runaway thoughts. Despite all that had gone wrong, he was shocked to be alive. He turned over, ignoring a sudden and new stabbing pain in his side. He felt at the straps on his back. At the very least, he had something to hold onto.

"Hey!"

A voice called.

Luigi froze, returning from his self-loathing. He choked on nothing, scrambling backwards. His vision darted around, trying to find a hiding spot, escape route, anything. He landed on his backside, compacting himself to hide behind one side of the dug-up coffin. He had nothing, nothing at all, to keep safe from ghosts. Aside from Polterpup, he was about as good as a moving target. Perhaps if he asked his pet nicely, the pooch would bury him again. Anything would be better than one of Boo's goons finding him—

"Is there anyone… alive, out here?" the voice continued.

The tone, flamboyant, commanding, maybe a little too demanding, made Luigi's anxiety both spike and taper out. It was oddly recognizable. His breathing steadied. He peeked over the side of the coffin, resting his large nose on the wood. He blinked, curious.

A green-skinned figure stood in his gaze, situated by the outside fence of the graveyard. He entered, cautious. A wisp of blonde hair rested on top of the figure's angular face, features punctuated by a pair of flashy spectacles. Luigi tilted his head, just as the figure made direct eye contact.

"There you are!"

Luigi's face went pale. He'd been spotted before he could even come up with a plan! He went down fast, folding over himself, as though that might help his position. He hushed Polterpup as the pooch's collar jingled. Polterpup sat unbothered by his side, lying on his back and rubbing along the grass.

Getting closer behind him, leaves and grass crunched in Luigi's ears. He huffed, propping himself on his elbows. Once the noise sounded close enough, Luigi forced himself to be alert. Before the figure could even utter a greeting, he hopped up to his feet, standing at full height.

"GEEZ!" The eccentric speaker immediately reacted, falling back. "Stars! Stars. You gotta warn a guy before you jump out like that."

Luigi stood up tall, holding up his fists pathetically. He took in the full figure of the slender stranger now. He wore black leather pants, a dark cropped top showing off his stomach. His sharp spectacles shrouded his eyes behind them. A choker around his neck had the Beanbean insignia on it.

"I'm not here to, uh, fight." He pointed at Luigi's balled fists. Luigi shyly dropped them. "I mean, really. I was just following the dog..."

"Polterpup?"

The dog yipped at his mention, leaping into Luigi's arms.

"Sure, that, whatever." The stranger waved a hand. "I had the feeling he was up to something weird. Seemed like he had a personal mission, coming from so far away."

"What?"

"So I was back at my studio and noticed him outside. He was limping a little, but he was so determined, I had to know what he was up to. He kept making his way over here. Most of the other ghosts already retreated toward the center of the kingdom, sooo... it was weird, yeah. Ghost dog going in the exact opposite direction of the castle? Weird." The man then gestured to Luigi, top to bottom. "I guess my judgement was right. He led me to you. You, a very sweaty, tired man who rose from the dead." He leaned, slipping his glasses down so Luigi could see his chestnut eyes. He squinted. "...you were really put through the wringer, huh?"

Luigi stared, perplexed at all this information. The stranger groaned.

"Look. Let's make introductions snappy. I already know you, and you should know me," he said.

"Huh?"

"Yeah. You're... uhhhh... uhmmm... uhhm. Hm." He paused, blinking. "Okay, so names don't matter. BUT! You were one of my top employees back in the day. You helped make me enough designs so that I could open up my own shop... you and that portly red guy! And might I just say, those designs sold out fast!"

Luigi released an audible "oohhh" as the memories came flooding back. He connected the pieces in his mind. It had been a whirlwind of a day, collecting the Beanstar pieces, but he knew where this stranger was from now, at the very least. He'd met him just hours before he'd solely rescued Peasley for the first time (that was an event he'd never, ever forget...). He continued thinking and soon everything solidified in his mind. He'd called it... Splart-! That was what it was called... and... his name was... was...

"Harhall! O-Or Bleetch?" Luigi shouted. He emphasized his realization with a fist to his open palm. "B-By the way, my name is Luigi..."

"Either or. I expected nothing less from you!" Harhall bragged, rubbing his chin with a hand. A smug smile curled on his face. He completely ignored Luigi's introduction. "I'm the talk of town most days."

"T-That so?"

Luigi couldn't help but remember beanish people fleeing from Harhall's studio in terror when they'd visited last.

"Sure is. I mean, even in this ghost apocalypse, I'm making the most of it. Usually, I'm just out of the house to find extra materials. Did you know that, when extracted correctly, ectoplasm actually makes for a great fabric dye?"

Luigi stopped him. "What do you mean... g-g-ghost apocalypse?"

"You haven't heard?"

Luigi stood blank-faced.

"Ohhhh, that's right. You were dead."

"Wuh... what happened?" Luigi inquired with fearful tears pricking at his eyes. "I-I just need to find my way back to the castle, before anything else..." he murmured. He couldn't get his thoughts off Peasley. He had to be there... right?

"The castle?" Harhall scoffed. "Good luck with that. That ghost king set up an impenetrable fortress around it. No one goes in but the ghosts, and more importantly, none of the living get out." He offered a pause after that grim detail, sensing Luigi's dread. "Now I've never been too big into 'politics'," he said with a shimmy of his shoulders, "but I do feel bad about everything. News got out fast the Beanstar was destroyed… and I haven't seen any soldiers. So not much else is keeping us safe."

Luigi paled. Harhall crossed his arms before continuing, stuck in his own head.

"-and by the way, had I known I'd given you two a piece of the Beanstar back in the day... let's just say I wouldn't have handed it off so easily. Took me a few months to realize only after I'd read about the whole debacle in the paper. Also, what gives? There was no mention of me at all there! I would have expected maybe a little recognition for offering employment and reward to the famed heroes. Maybe a tiny advertisement for my shop at least..."

"What did B-Boo..."-—upon Harhall's confused head tilt, Luigi fixed his terminology—"t-the ghost king do?"

"Well. It's been about a week since the thicket went up..."

"A week?" Luigi shrieked.

While he HAD wanted to know desperately the amount of time that went by since his "passing", the truth left his head spinning. So much could happen in a week! The castle might have gotten destroyed completely; the entire town could be wiped off the map. And his boyfriend, oh, his boyfriend-! What would he do if he was already too late? Peasley could have gotten relocated, or blown to bits, or freed and subsequently tortured and interrogated, or- Grambi, it was too much. He'd never been in a mansion, Evershade Valley or the Last Resort for anything longer than a few nights. He sweated and trembled as Harhall continued talking, trying to keep his worries inside his throat. He was positive Harhall wouldn't care to help him calm down. Polterpup noticed Luigi's helpless expression though, bonking his head into Luigi's chest.

"Yeah. A looong week. I don't really know what happened beyond what I can see from out here. These are the perks of living basically in the middle of nowhere. Furthest reach of the outskirts, baby!" he announced to nobody. "All I know is he's kidnapped some people, destroyed some stuff, and taken over the castle." Harhall laughed suddenly, which was a surefire way to activate Luigi's fight-or-flight response. He glared at Harhall. "As long as he stays away from me, I'm perfectly content not knowing what he's up to. I haven't gotten caught. I guess I'm too slippery for the buggers patrolling around."

Luigi pet over Polterpup in an effort to calm. His loyal pup trilled gently. "T-Those ghosts... they come all the way out here?"

"Oh yeah. They swarm at random times. One of the worst infestations I've ever seen." Harhall crossed his arms. "Mostly, they're just annoying. But there's this one big guy that frequents this graveyard once the sun sets. Keep an eye out for him. He's a real nasty one. We've had a few close encounters." Harhall rummaged around in his pocket before showing something off to Luigi. "As for the little ones? Whenever any ghosts get too close, I like to distract them. I quickly realized they took a liking to sequins." He revealed some in his hand, plucking a large fake gem up between his fingers. "Shiny stuff. That's their game. They're kind of easy to distract, almost like newborn sproutlings... you'll learn to tame them quick."

He returned the sequins to his pocket. The promise of an ill-fated encounter made Luigi suddenly, acutely, aware of the setting sun. The orange glow in the distance left long, angular shadows peeking through the trees.

"As for the other ghosts? I'd suggest putting those pale, wobbly legs of yours to work and running as fast and far as you possibly can."

Luigi tested his movement at that remark. He tried navigating forward and around the coffin, managing to stay upright. He stepped on the growing shadows, minding where he walked.

"H-Harhall," he whispered, "...you realize it's-a getting dark, r-right?"

"I have eyes. I know." Harhall placed one hand on his hips, the other on his forehead. "Look, I know how this works. The caretaker doesn't show up until later in the night. It gives me some time to look around."

Luigi shrunk in on himself. He minded each bristle of leaves and crunch of bushes around him. He clutched to his backpack straps, half-wishing they were the straps of his trusty Poltergust again. How he missed a singular sliver of security.

"Y-You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. But, yeah," Harhall sighed, "this whole situation? It's only gotten worse. I would have expected some backup or help of any kind to drop in by now, but I think the vines have grown over the airport... which isn't ideal."

Help from allies of any sort seemed unlikely, Luigi thought. Unless Queen Bean managed to get a letter out to Princess Peach or any other neighboring royalty, he assumed their communication points were cut off completely. The kingdom seemed contemporary to outsiders, but admittedly, it was still old-fashioned. Despite their constant, scattered attempts at trying to modernize, Luigi still sent his letters to Peasley via postal service, with stamped wax seals and handwritten penmanship. He appreciated the simplicity sometimes, reveled it in even, but it didn't help when the kingdom was under siege.

His head whipped around his shoulder as he heard something shuffling around, rustling through the overgrown grass. Luigi stepped back, closer to Harhall. He looked over at Polterpup, gauging the pup's reaction. The ghostly dog's tail drooped.

"I-I don't think we're alone," Luigi said, speaking with a shaking voice.

"...ugh, fine. If you're gonna be fussing about it, we can head out." Harhall started walking back toward the cemetery gates. "There's no way you're going to get to the castle at this point, so it would be better if you just follow me."

"Where are we gonna go?" Luigi followed.

"My place. We'll talk about a plan once we get there."

"I-I..."

Luigi paused. He felt like he was betraying the entirety of the Beanbean Kingdom by taking a break, but Harhall was right. If he went in blind, he'd just wind up back in a coffin and buried deeper underground. He could only assume next time he would be much harder for Polterpup to get to. The darkness was where and when the ghosts thrived; he knew what would happen if he tried to leave for his rescue mission at this hour.

Harhall stopped, turning back to face Luigi. He raised an eyebrow.

"You're coming, right?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm—"

Without warning, Luigi's speech was cut short as he was lifted off the ground by his backpack, dangled high in the air. He yelped, Harhall exclaiming in alarm somewhere below him. He struggled and squirmed but clutched tight to the straps around his body, hoping upon hope the fraying bag would hold.

His head whirled, and soon he was making eye contact with a sunken, dark expression. Despite Harhall's promise, the caretaker was out early tonight. The old gravekeeper was frail, his translucent, ghastly body flickering from the familiar minty green to a deeper, harsher viridescent hue. He looked old, tired, like a rotting corpse that'd crawled from the ground. Luigi thought perhaps he'd originally been one of the smaller mint-colored ghosts; he'd been stretched out like putty, body long and snakelike. Tiny roots bloomed in his chest. He carried a lantern in his one free hand, the other clutching tight to Luigi. He shouted indistinctly at him, making wild motions with his hands. The lantern swayed in his hold, hypnotically catching Luigi's eyes. The flame (Luigi assumed) within was bright green, sparkling, reflected in Luigi's own tired irises.

The two were hovering over Luigi's empty coffin, a quick glance below serving to check the contents. The ghost was rightfully miffed at the contents (or lack thereof). He screeched, long face stretching unnaturally as Harhall and Luigi covered their ears. The glowing light within his lantern pulsated, like an angered heartbeat. Luigi squinted. Was that...?

The gravekeeper shouted in alarm. A sudden sensation grabbed him by the wispy tail, Polterpup having leapt up to grab him and drag him down to the ground. He growled and barked, the old corpse of a ghost shaking frantically to shoo Polterpup away. Luigi screamed as the caretaker lost his grip, dropping the terrified man to the earth below. With a shout to the ether, he plummeted below. Harhall made no effort to catch him, but Polterpup managed to grab his owner before he hit the ground. The backpack slipped off Luigi's shoulders, landing on the ground as Luigi was placed down gently.

Luigi glared at Harhall, face red.

"I-I... thought you said-!"

"Yeah. That's m-my bad." Harhall issued his apology regarding the miscalculation. He cleared his throat. "Now are we going to stick around here or are we going to start implementing my number one rule: running?"

The gravekeeper rushed toward the pair of them, now brandishing a shovel. He swung it at the two, keeping the growling Polterpup at bay with the tool's length. Luigi narrowly avoided a swift clobbering to the head, reaching to grab his fallen backpack. He dove underneath the caretaker's incorporeal form, clutching tight to the bag and slipping it over his shoulders once more. He rolled over himself to grab the backpack, clutching it in a white-knuckled hand.

As the caretaker hovered behind and lifted the shovel once again, Polterpup bit straight through the caretaker's side, shaking his head rapidly and tearing him in two. The stretchy ghost howled. In the scuffle, he dropped his lantern, which garnered a large reaction from the ghost. He retrieved it in a flash, dusting off the light and holding it tight. He slammed down his shovel, keeping one withered hand secured on the lantern. Luigi huffed, hands on knees as he watched the strange ghost devote himself to ensuring the lantern's glow.

"That's our cue to leave." Harhall grabbed Luigi by the forearm. "C'mon!"

Luigi tumbled out of the cemetery as Harhall led him. Before they got far, Luigi bent down and grabbed Polterpup by his collar, lifting the pooch into his arms. He wouldn't be letting his loyal pet go and get himself hurt again. Polterpup continued to growl at the groundskeeper as they fled the scene. The caretaker didn't seem keen on following, merely holding his glimmering lantern high in the foggy evening.

He was the only thing visible when Luigi looked back: a glimpse of shining terror nearly obscured by the haunted evening.

"Here we are. Welcome to my humble abode."

Luigi held his bag out in front of him, clutching it as Harhall showed him inside his studio. Luigi would hardly call it a house. By most formal definitions, it was more like glorified storage closet with a few misplaced futons and a coffee table. It was also a mess, littered with empty cans, sketchbooks, and crumpled fashion designs. Luigi was no master interior designer, but he knew a thing or two. Harhall's place looked more like a furniture collection than anything deliberately placed.

The walk (but mostly sprint) over had been a series of close calls. Many a sequin were thrown and Polterpups were sicced, but Luigi managed to make his way through the thicket with Harhall's assistance. For a fashion designer, he seemed to have a fair grasp on the situation. So far, there were no wanted posters and bounties on Luigi's head, but he knew it was only a matter of time before word got to Boo. Any feeling of safety seemed temporary.

Harhall flicked on a light.

"This is where alll the magic happens." Harhall spun around, lifting his hands jazzily. "Also. Let's talk house rules. One. Don't let your ghost dog do his business on my stuff. Two. Don't mess with my stuff. And... yeah, that's basically it."

Polterpup was currently outside, so Luigi didn't worry much about the first rule. He nodded along.

Harhall sighed, taking off his glasses and tossing them on the coffee table. "I guess this is the new way of life. Might as well get used to it."

He popped open the cork to a bottle of Chuckola Cola, offering the fizzing bottle to Luigi. Luigi declined with a wave of his hand. Harhall shrugged and poured himself a glass. Luigi took the moment of solace to sit down on Harhall's futon, trying to relax his stiffened spine.

"So. How are you even here, Luigi?" Harhall took a long swig of the drink in his hand. He deliberately emphasized Luigi's name, proving he'd remembered it. "I heard that king threw this big jubilee about your very, very real 'death'. I didn't go obviously... but I can imagine the festivities were grand. Hey, do ghosts wear clothes? Might be some inspiration there, I don't know..." He hiccuped, gesturing to Luigi with an open hand as he loosely held his glass. "Also, what's his whole deal with you? You don't seem like 'greatest enemy' material."

"I-I'm alive because I have these." Luigi dug in his pocket. He revealed the golden bones in his hands. He had two left. "If I'm holding onto one of these, Polterpup will be able to revive me."

"And if you... don't have one?" Harhall raised an inquisitive brow.

"Uhm… then my game ends."

Harhall sat back. He blinked. "You sound awfully calm about that."

Luigi nodded.

"Also... King Boo and I go way back. He's mad at me for defeating him a few times..." Luigi clutched his sides. "Mad at, a lot of things. But mostly that."

"So... he's the way he is... 'cus of you?"

Luigi sat silent on the couch. He rubbed his fingers together. "I-I hadn't thought of it like that... but y-yeah," he sniffled, wiping at his face. "I-I... I guess. I..." Inhale, exhale. His bottom lip trembled. "I... I... I hadn't thought about... with everything... and... heh... I... I..."

Halfway through talking, Luigi burst into visceral, pained sobs, doubling over on the couch and wailing loudly.

"Hey, hey! Woah, don't cry on me, buddy." Harhall hurriedly stuffed a handkerchief into Luigi's curled hands. "This couch is LEGIT leather."

Luigi continued to sob for the next few moments, unable to stop.

Harhall sighed. Reluctantly, he began patting Luigi's back. "Look, it's not all doom and gloom," he offered. "You're like... you got, uh... hey, what's in the bag?"

Luigi sniffled, hard, large nose quavering from a snort. He looked up from his hands. After a few short yet steady breaths, he uttered his first coherent words in the last five minutes: "...what?"

"The bag. You've been crazy trying to keep it safe."

"It... it's got stuff in it I may need..." He sniffled hard, wiping at snot on his face.

"Cool. Cool. Mysterious, love it." Harhall fixed his glasses. He stood up, brushing off his leather pants. "Okay, well, if you have some stuff, then you have some stuff. There's really no need to get hopeless." He crossed his arms. "In fact... okay, actually. Let's think this out..."

Harhall ran out of the room. Sounds of shuffling and things falling over soon followed. After a minute, he rolled in a large board, adorned with fraying sketches of fashion designs. He plucked those off, one by one, pulling the glaring red tacks from the board and holding them carefully in a balled fist. With the other hand, he grabbed a piece of paper, handing it over to Luigi. He retrieved a pencil from behind his earrings, handing it to Luigi.

"Make a list. What is it exactly that you need to do? You know this ghost guy better than any of us here in the Beanbean Kingdom. Certainly better than me."

"Uhm. I-I," Luigi's throat warbled; he sniffled mid-sentence, "I need to get to the castle."

"Yeah, okay. Castle. You love the idea of making it to the castle. First problem." Harhall drew a crude imitation of Boo on a piece of parchment, tacking it atop a large piece of green paper in the corner of the board. "That glorified disco ball has taken up residence there. He's got ghosts patrolling the outside. And judging by what you told me, if they see you, they're going to flip out." He continued with the tacks, creating a path from Point A to Point B: his second argument. "Look here. You'll need to traverse through the brambles and thorns, somehow. I haven't been able to get far. Not like I tried very hard though." He shrugged. "But the thicket is still growing. You'll really need to have a sharp mind to go into that mess."

"Mm-hmm."

Luigi tried to maintain a hopeful expression, but a growing dread infected his brain.

"Okay. So. We've established you'll need a plan to get through the maze..." Harhall hrm-ed and hummed. "Okay, okay. This is a start. What's next on your 'save the kingdom' list?"

"Making a new Poltergust."

"What's that?"

"It helps me capture ghosts..." Luigi said. He surrendered to Harhall's curiosity. "It's what's in the bag... I have plans to make one."

"Oh, sweet!" Harhall clapped his hands. "I don't have many parts around here, but you can repurpose my old sewing machines if you want. Or- or, uh, how would you feel about some mannequins? Those do anything for you?"

Luigi shook his head. He scanned the room, gaze falling behind Harhall.

"How about a vacuum?" He pointed to the wall. A canister vacuum was in the corner of the room, nozzle lying out on the ground.

Harhall scratched his head.

"Uh. I mean, sure, I guess." Harhall went to grab it off the side of the wall. "Sure. If it's for a noble cause, I can do without dusting up the place for a while."

He lifted it up with a heave and brought the vacuum over to Luigi, dropping it in his lap.

"There. Vacuum. Now what?"

"I need to rescue my friends... and everyone else." Luigi listed them off in his head: E. Gadd, the Queen, Lima, the Peas and Beans... Peasley. "And, back to the first point... I-I need to find a way into the castle, because that's-a probably where they are."

"Okay, I have to ask." Harhall pulled up a chair, sitting across from Luigi. "What is with your obsession with getting back to the castle? To be honest, the idea of going headfirst into that messy deathtrap sounds kind of... eh, less than smart, give or take."

"I need to rescue Peasley." Luigi blurted out in a whisper. Harhall sat back.

"The prince?"

"Mm-hmm. He's..." Luigi blushed. A warm flutter filled his chest, possibly the first he'd felt in the entire week he'd been out. "He's my boyfriend."

"Oh." Harhall poker-faced. Luigi could see in his eyes he was connecting some dots. "Oh. Stars, are you serious?"

Luigi nodded.

"Wow, okay. Had no idea about that." Harhall laughed curtly, sitting up and pushing away his chair. "Well, I was gonna charge you for this next bit, but seeing as you're the prince consort-to-be, what say you I gave you this on the house?"

"G-Give me what?" He lifted the canister on his lap. "T-The vacuum?"

"No. I'm making you a whole new ensemble!" Harhall announced excitedly. "It's the least I can do. If you're gonna get past those ghosts, you'll need to be able to blend in with the shadows. At least, until you get one of those machines again. And apocalypse gear is so last season... hey, how would you feel about a full facial shave?"

Luigi shook his head quick. Wanted or not—there was no way he would be removing his mustache. He'd spent years trying to grow it.

"I get it. I wouldn't want anyone touching my facial hair either."

Harhall rubbed a hand over a tiny bit of blonde stubble on his chin.

He started pacing and sketching at the same time while Luigi looked over the internals of Harhall's vacuum. He emptied the canister, tinkered around with the screws, and tested the amount it could hold. All he needed right now was a simple containment unit. He dug through his backpack, drawing out the Poltergust 3000 blueprints. He attempted to decipher Gadd's messy handwriting.

Harhall poured himself another glass. "So, you make a new Poltergeist..."

"Gust."

"Whatever. Then what?"

"I'm... I think I'm gonna go back to the graveyard."

"What?" Harhall made a face. He laughed. "That guy wanted to kill you! If you go back there, he's probably gonna do something more than just scare you and scratch up your clothes."

Luigi glanced up. "But I think... I think he has a piece of the Beanstar. His lantern was glowing just like it," he explained hastily. "T-That's step four in my rescue plan. I need to repair the Beanstar. Boo's got the last piece I need, so... I'll just make my way there anyway..."

"Sounds like a long shot, honestly." Harhall smiled. He sat next to Luigi, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "But hey, I like the determination. Reminds me of me."

Luigi breathed. He leaned back on the futon, sinking into the cushions.

"You can sleep here tonight. Not like you have anywhere else to go, haha." He swirled his glass around in his hand, taking a sip of the fizzing beverage.

"T-Thanks, but I think I'll be working on the Poltergust all night. D-Do you have a place I could go and be out of the way? I-I'll try not to make too much noise." He couldn't make any promises, but he chose not to mention that fact.

Harhall smiled, shaking his head.

"Look. I know it's not really my place, but... maybe you should try and get some sleep?"

"Mm?"

"See, I don't know if your comatose, half-dead state really counted as sleep." He leaned over the couch's end, grabbing a hand mirror and tossing it over to Luigi. He held it up in front of him. "Look at your bags. That isn't pretty."

Luigi lifted a hand to his cheeks, blushing sheepishly. Harhall stood, exited, and returned with a felt blanket. He threw it into Luigi's arms.

"In the morning, I'll get you all the stuff you need. I'll make your wardrobe, you'll make the vacuum. It'll be great!"

"But I-I... I need to get there as soon as possible... w-who knows what else he's gonna do-?"

"He hasn't done anything too crazy yet. Let's just call it a night." He nudged Luigi in the shoulder. "Might do you some good, actually. A nice refreshing sleep always does wonders for my creativity drive."

"But..."

"Choose to rest or not, I don't care. I'm just saying, from my professional, workaholic opinion, you need sleep." Harhall cleaned up some of his stray sketches, leaving the board up. "I'll see you in the morning. Don't touch my things. G'night!"

Luigi slumped back on the futon as Harhall shut off the lights and retired to his room. Through a single window on the other side of the room, moonlight poured, coating the board Harhall'd rolled in and left out. Luigi followed the bright red tacks with his eyes, eventually honing in on the hasty doodle of King Boo. He rolled over, staring up at the ceiling. Even a tiny sketch of the ghostly king made his heart thump. He heard Polterpup rummaging around outside, barking and yapping. Vines covered the window just barely, peeking in the corners. He wondered how long it would take for the thicket to claim Harhall's studio too.

He sighed, pulling the scratchy blanket over his chest and clutching it tight. His safety was fleeting, yes, and he would never be secure now that he was a dead man walking. But still, he would sleep tonight. Even if he didn't agree with Harhall on everything, he could agree that he needed rest. He needed help, assistance. He couldn't do this alone.

He shut his eyes and tried to envision a happy reunion instead of nightmares, curling up. He dreamed of warm hands meeting his own, and not of cold unfeeling stone. He dreamed of a smiling face. He dreamed of kisses, and cuddles, and love that filled his insides with butterflies instead of knives.

Tomorrow, he'd make a Poltergust, no matter how long it took. He'd fix this. He'd fix everything.

He slept soundly that night.