Ok, sorry for the super long wait! I got busy with life and this chapter took longer to work on than I intended. But it's here, at last! (Again, this is Mario x Bowser, so that's a slash-fic. Just a head's up if you don't like guys in love.)

Beloved Friend,

I have a confession: I love to play with fire.

It's probably my fatal flaw, or it's definitely one of them. This is just something that's fascinated me since I was a child, a baby even. Dancing flames, swirling magma, flowing lava, smoky smells, sensational warmth, perfect destruction, and it's got my attention more times than I can count.

Sure, it's a hazard and the more you fool around with it, the more likely you are to get burned. If you're really careless, it will most definitely kill you. Yet, there is a certain thrill to having the power flow from your fingertips and unleashing just a tiny ball of beauty onto the world, however brief it is. Honestly, I don't recommend it to anyone else. Fire is my everlasting addiction, one that I shouldn't have, but I can't tear myself from it.

The problem is that I don't really tell anyone about it. People think that everything is under control. Not even my brother has any clue at just how entranced I am. One would think that he would be more likely to struggle with something like this. It fits more in line with his character, not mine.

What's my character? Well, I'm supposed to be the hero. My role is to be the one that everyone looks up to. The sky turns dark, the princess is taken, people lose hope, and hell has essentially broken loose. But as soon as I walk in, no one is afraid anymore and the world is suddenly at a calm. I'm meant to plunge myself into spiraling stacks of flames and emerge victorious, restoring the world to its proper order. The people clap, they cheer my name. Their savior returns balance and keeps them going for another day. And that's when the fire is supposed to go out.

But it never does.

And I don't understand why. It burns, passionately as always, the very next time. Any time I try to pat it down, whenever I look to put it out, the fire seems like it dies, but it just waits for a moment before it comes back to life.

The people may think to be afraid, but their bravest man will appear again, and, no matter how difficult, he will work to tame the fire. What they can't see, what I'm afraid of them ever seeing, is that I help light the flames. By trying to put them out, I only build them up again.

An endless cycle is a kind way to describe it. My burning waltz is maddening.

Truthfully, the worst part is how much I enjoy it.

No, not playing the hero, not exactly. One would think that being everyone's idol would be what keeps me going. It's not. It's diving into the inferno. It's my obsession. It calls to me and I respond without hesitation.

We come together, time and again, and I love it. What? Love, you ask? How could a fool be so mesmerized by something that does nothing but bring pain upon your loved ones?

Thing. That's what they would call it. I frown whenever I hear that for the name. The thing. The monster. The freak. The beast. The terror. The villain. The king of all evils, everything wrong with the land. His royal majesty, they call mockingly call him, his grouchiness, his awfulness, his wretchedness, and all the terrible rest. That's what they would call him.

The fire. My fire.

Madness. Sheer, utter lunacy. That's how they'd label my mania, my passion. That's why I'll never tell. Truth be told, I'm no hero, for I love this destruction, this chaos. When the people cry out for me, I'm not caught up in the pleasure it is to save them, their princess, the kingdom. With a strong grin on my face, that's what they'd assume, but they're wrong. That smile is because I'm excited to go after him again.

Yes, him. He is the fire, my fixation. He literally breathes flames and would dare to put on a show just for one, just me. Always just for me, I like to tell myself. Imagine.

It's not though.

I hear the whispers through the towns, the castle courtyards. "The beast would so love the princess, if he could make her his own!" Lies. Slander. It has to be.

Doesn't it?

Yet, it makes sense to me, as I piece it together. He tries so hard, not for me, but for her. Conquest is for her, to show his strength, his girth. He thinks that by toppling her, she'll somehow become more invested in him, more in love with him. I don't think he understands how desperately she detests flirting with danger.

Her. Not me.

I love the badness. It's hilarious how many people would peg Peach for it. Pretty perfect princess that she is, everyone imagines that she wants something that stands as a foil. People look at her when they think someone would actually desire a person that's darker, meaner. They look right past me.

It must be, since I get my hands slightly dirty now and again, that they think I want something soft, tender. Don't get me wrong, I want someone to open up to; it's a bad habit of mine to keep things bottled inside, hardly mentioning a "hello" some days. And I've taken days to wonder if that would be Peach. It might be nice, in another world, another day.

But we're just friends.

It should be easy to follow. I've rescued her many a time, and yet, while we share tender moments together, they're just because I've taken the time to get to know her. See the princess beyond the appearances, beyond the sugary sweet personality she lets the world see.

Her delicate fragility is actually her armor. No, she's not going to burst forward with the strength of a hundred men. Peach is more complicated. Yes, she is sweet as the kingdom knows her, but deep down, she is burdened. The kingdom, world sees her in the best possible the light, the warmest and brightest. It's not all cakes and roses for her though. She's had to make hard calls, painful decisions. They're not always moral, and they're not at all easy. They take a toll on her, mentally, emotionally.

Peach never lets that slip through though. Never her. Not her grace. She has to be the perfect princess everyone expects her to be. If she were to show any signs of slipping, even the slightest hint or promise of failure, the people would be in despair. They would anguish. They would riot.

And so, when she has no one, she turns to me.

It sounds a lot like love, but it's not. There's a difference between the secrets of friends and those of lovers. She tells me of her struggles and I'm her shoulder to cry on. It's not because she thinks I'm the greatest thing she's ever met, but because she knows that I can handle the harder side. Sure, she's called me handsome, attractive even, but not with passion behind it. These are more off hand or matter of fact comments, not ones that she would want me to understand are only her thoughts. They're the thoughts that any woman could have.

Or any man, right?

What defines a man, anyway? Is it so simple, a handsome fellow who knows his way around tools, sports, power ups, and, of course, the ladies? Or is there something deeper behind it? Is it just a slightly short and a bit stout fellow, who happens to be quite athletic all the same, or can it be extended to a much large creature, one that runs a kingdom all his own, with loyal subjects and followers, hampered only by his desires for conquest and his physical appearance?

People would call Bowser disgusting. How is beyond me. He's strong, imposing. Carrying the shell on his back shows signs of this strength. Yet, he always manages to wear some kind of a pearly white smile. Many claim that his eyes are blood shot and full of threatening evil, but I see something else. When our eyes meet, I see warmth. It's a beautiful red color, one complemented by his scorching red hair, which fits so calmly between his horns. Any strains in there are from a tired workingman, or monster, as others prefer to call him. Sure, the scales are different, but they seem so smooth, uniform in their place. The spiked cuffs and collars are intimidating, but fit in a style that suits him nicely. Sure, the claws might be sharp, but he keeps them well groomed; maybe I should be more afraid of those, but I feel some kind of excitement from seeing them.

The fun part is the tail. It wags around as he saunters, flowing delicately after the rest of his form. I have a fascination with exotic features, and this a highlight indeed. He manages to keep it in tow, yet it just calls for someone to reach out. It beckons for a tug, to test his body's potency. More than once, I've gone after it, swung him by it. After all, I need to assess it for myself, examine him. Show off myself, a little. I admit, it's not the best way to offer myself to him, but it gets the point across.

His persona is something to behold in itself. Most know only his wrath, rage. I'm told how he is selfish and lacks redeeming qualities. Yet, he rules a kingdom. His subjects hold him in high regard and willingly send themselves out in his name. Some take the utmost pride in it. Even his name commands respect. (Bow, ser, before the mighty Koopa King, Bowser.) Perfectly fitting.

Many say that he dominates his soldiers into submission, to enforce their undying cooperation. How, then, can he manage to keep his army loyal? Fear only works for so long, especially on the younger seven Koopalings. He holds them close to his heart, almost like his own son. Junior, however, he showers with endless amounts of affection.

Obvious that he would get all of the love, being the rightful heir, but there are rulers, parents that refuse to show love even to their children. There are Toads that would run in terror and leave their children to die. These Koopa kids purposely put themselves in the line of danger, to impress their father, to show him that they are just as capable as the soldiers he sends forth.

And what of their father, the king? He fights right alongside the children. His go to partner in crime is his own son. Even when the boy makes mistakes, he can still make his father proud.

How could a total family man be only evil?

Still, there are those that insist Bowser to be as much a fool as a terrible tyrant. Judging by his well-crafted plans, from invading any defenses that the castle guards could think up (myself included), to whatever schemes and obstacles he creates, reaching so far as to journey into space, I would conclude that he is anything but dim-witted. It takes a wealth of knowledge and intelligence to pull off even half of what he does. There's a certain artistic flair hidden within the king, one that is only noticed through careful observation.

It also amazes me, how no one can notice his mischievous side, with a playful grin here and a mocking look there. I suppose I am the usual recipient to these, as if he is daring me to challenge him. If only he understood that I wanted more than fighting him, more than being his number one competitor in battle, sports, parties, and whatever else.

There must be something more there, right? He has the same obsession with facing me as I do with him. He comes at me with everything, time and again. Is it hatred? Does he detest me so much, being the foil to his every effort? How could he stand being near me, when we're not clashing? We've worked together before, gone along on adventures together, even played on the same team in the different sporting events we attend. He has a sort of love-hate attitude toward me and I desperately want to understand it.

I already know the kingdoms, the world, would call my love a form of insanity, but would he? I would tell him, but I'm afraid that he would mirror their reactions. Disgust. Laughter. Something else to use against me, I suppose.

More frightful, I gather, would be if he returned them. What then? What would we become after that? Could I change him? Should I? Would I change?

Me, the slaughterer of his armies, the man that ruins the plan, asked by the King of Koopas to be welcomed into their castle, their kingdom? Him, the one that strikes away a heartbeat in any Toad's chest, the "monster" that harasses their ruler, the one that terrorizes the world at large, presented as the love of my life?

I can't even imagine my own brother's reaction. His twin, so twisted inside? How could his big brother, the hero and his idol, be intimately involved with the worst demon of them all? How could I ever let my little brother down? I worry that I take away so much from him already. The world is a cruel place, he is very wary of that. And yet he soldiers on, chasing me to hell itself, if not to stop the "forces of evil," then at least to save me.

Luigi has always been so selfless, putting everyone and everything before himself. How could I possibly hurt him in such a way, betray him? How could I put him through a horrifying truth? Lie to him? Put his neck on the line? He's not my subject, a citizen, or my follower. He's my brother. How selfish would it be, for me to tell him that I love our designated enemy? Risk him to flirt with fire?

I am mad. To fathom that there would be acceptance is absurd in and of itself.

And I'm painfully avoiding the fact that he may truly love the princess. Is it just a means to an end? Does he only want her for the kingdom? I see a hunger in his eyes, but I mistake it to be for me. What if it is for her? She calls me the handsome one, yet she is a beautiful creature in another level above mine. Well above. He must notice her that way. Why settle for less and deal with all the risks that come with me? She is the prize, the highest honor. She could give him so much more than I can offer.

Even if Peach rejects him, he must still desire her. He must want her. Almost everyone does. Why not him? Why should I think him above it all? Just because I want him, just because I believe that he should be mine, that doesn't suddenly make my King into my lover. My crush. Not love.

Such thoughts slay me. I laugh at people who expect so much from Peach and myself, as it goes nowhere, but I am presented with the same trouble between Bowser and I.

We have gone nowhere.

My thoughts are a mess. I cannot see clearly, even with the brightest lights. Nothing makes sense. Nothing makes me happy.

How can I want my enemy? He is the worst possible thing I could have ever asked for. He opposes me, he terrorizes all that I love, and, simply put, he drives me insane.

The worst part of it all is that I can't live without him.

Even as I look over all that I have written here, it's something disgusting for anyone else to behold. I should hate it. I should hate these thoughts, this lust. Love between men is a delicate subject in and of itself. Love between mortal enemies isn't possible.

Yet it's real. These are my thoughts. I desire these things. This is my truth. I say so little, and I'll never let myself come so close to revealing these secrets, but it's all here. Something that no one can know, and it's that I love—

"Mario?"

The door creaked open and I whirled around to find my younger, leaner brother, standing just outside our room. The lights have been turned off and the rest of the house is cloaked in the night's dark, save for the little light next to me. He glanced to the wooden desk, giving a curious look to my letter, scribbled on paper.

"What are you writing, bro?" Luigi asks, probably controlling a burning desire to dive at the letter and read it all for himself.

I wouldn't dream of giving him the chance. "Nothing special," I flawlessly lie to him, "just a little something to organize my thoughts about some silly speeches that Toadsworth wants me to present. You know, the opening for road and bridge, the one from Toad Town to Peach's Castle?"

"Ah, ok," he replies, with a hint of satisfaction. "Fun stuff. Bet you can't wait to have the crowd cheer for you, huh?"

I roll my eyes and he laughs. "Of course. It's what I live for," comes my exaggerated reply.

"Well, they love you for it," he manages, through his dwindling chuckles. "Get some rest and make sure you've got it set in the morning."

"I will once I'm done. There's just a little more."

He nods and climbs into the bed nearest to the door, taking his place on the lower bunk. "Good night, Mario," comes my brother's sleepy voice.

"Good night, Luigi," I whisper as I return to the paper.

Something that no one can know, and it's that I love Bowser. Not Luigi, my brother whom I share many things. Not Peach, who can be my confidant as much as I hers. Not even Bowser himself, who will probably never know my declarations of love.

I want this written though. It's dangerous to do so, but it's been plaguing at my mind for the longest time now.

Yes, I'm sure this will end up in someone else's hands, at some point or another. I am hopeful that it is someone who comes to understand me, if not someone I come to love. Hence my address to you, reader; I hope you have stayed with me thus far and, should I know you, that we continue to work through things together. Truly, I hope that I've given this away willingly and that it was not stolen from me.

Perhaps I should burn this before then. But it is late, and I need to draw this to a close. It clears my mind, writing this down, but I suppose I'll need an alternative.

Until then, I'm sure my fiery waltz will continue.

Fondly,

Mario (Yep, that's-a me!)

All right, caught up! I hope you enjoyed reading this one. I wanted it different from the last one, so I had Mario write to no one in particular, but that could become someone, should he so choose. (Or it could simply be...you! The reader! Hooray you!)

Mario's perspective was surprisingly harder to write for. With Bowser, it was easy to figure that he had some kind of soft spot for his nemesis, as well as there being a need for love, deep down. By contrast, Mario actually has love, both by family/friends and the people he saves. He's more idolized than Bowser, so I tried to play him as someone who was somewhat addicted to getting into trouble.

It was especially hard to tackle Mario/Peach as a friendship instead of a romance, since I really like the two of them together. But hey, they have plenty of stories together, so Mario/Bowser has to start somewhere. Speaking of starting, I'm not sure if I should continue a back and forth letter exchange to no-one, or if I should turn it into a story now, with dialogue, plot, and all of the fun stuff. (Mario/Bowser lives?! What?!) I really had to throw in Luigi walking in on Mario; it's just an innocent incident that was bound to happen.

So, if you're interested, send me a comment on whether or not this should continue on as letter exchanges or if an actual story should unfold.