Estimated Reading Time: 27 Minutes
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Green Hell
Hurried footsteps echoed through the long, dimly lit hallway, each step reverberating like a frantic drumbeat. Ness was racing toward the music hall, his breath uneven as his arms clutched his guitar tightly against his chest. His bag bounced awkwardly against his side with every step, but he paid it no mind—his focus was on getting to practice before he was too late to apologize.
The weight of the guitar strap slipping off his shoulder forced him to adjust mid-sprint, fumbling to keep the instrument steady. In his haste, he barely noticed the figure jogging toward him from the opposite direction.
Crash!
The collision sent him sprawling backward. He landed hard on the cool, polished floor with a sharp thud, the impact rattling through his body. His guitar case skidded a short distance away, and he winced, propping himself up with trembling hands. "Ugh…" he groaned, shaking his head to clear the dizziness from the fall.
"I'm so sorry!" he began, his voice slightly breathless. But when his gaze lifted to meet the person he'd collided with, the rest of his words caught in his throat. His eyes widened from absolute fear.
Ba-Dump!
Ness: "L-Luigi?!"
Luigi: "Ah… Ooh…"
Oh god, I need to get the fuck out of here! The thought screamed through Ness's mind, drowning out everything else. His chest tightened as panic seized him, and he scrambled to his feet with all the grace of a newborn deer. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as he tried to steady himself, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the faint hum of fluorescent lights above.
His eyes darted to his guitar lying just a few feet away. Relief flickered briefly in his chest—he could grab it and bolt before this got any worse. He reached out for the case, his fingers brushing the latch, but before he could snatch it up, another hand appeared.
A white-gloved hand.
Luigi beat him to it, effortlessly scooping up the guitar as if it weighed nothing. He straightened, his lean figure framed by the soft light filtering through the windows. With a gentle smile that practically radiated calm, Luigi extended the case toward Ness.
"You dropped this," Luigi said, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable steadiness.
Ness: "!"
Ness snatched the guitar from the green plumber's hands, his grip tight and a little shaky. He avoided looking up, instead yanking the bill of his red cap lower, shielding his eyes from Luigi's face.
"A-are you okay?" Luigi asked, his voice tinged with concern. The slight stutter in his words made it clear he wasn't just making small talk—he genuinely felt bad about the collision.
Ness could hear the guilt laced in Luigi's tone, which somehow made the situation even worse. "I'm sorry," Luigi added quickly, stepping back slightly as if to give the psychic space. "You were going so fast. I-I couldn't stop in time!"
The taller man's hands hovered awkwardly in the air, like he wanted to help but wasn't sure if the psychic would let him. "It's... Fine," Ness muttered the words quietly.
Ba-dump!
Luigi's heart skipped a beat, a fluttering sensation that caught him completely off guard. He blinked, suddenly aware of how fast his pulse was racing, and he couldn't figure out why. Confused, his attention shifted to Ness, taking in his features more closely than he'd meant to.
Ness's hair, untidy from the rush, framed his face in a soft, messy way that made him look both boyish and endearing. The brim of his cap hid his eyes entirely, leaving an air of mystery that somehow made him even more intriguing. His cheeks carried a faint pink hue, whether from embarrassment or exertion, Luigi couldn't tell.
The little details stood out more than Luigi expected. The perfect button shape of Ness's nose, the gentle curve of his flushed face contrasted by the sharpness of his jawline, which was just soft enough to feel approachable. His teeth were bared slightly in frustration, his canines catching the light in a way that felt oddly captivating.
Luigi's stomach churned, and he found himself swallowing hard, the realization hitting him like a stray Koopa shell. Ness was attractive. Unmistakably so. Anyone could see it. He's just simply appreciating another man's beauty.
But then why did his heart flutter like that?
It didn't make sense.
It's because we're both riled up right now, Luigi reasoned, forcing himself to look elsewhere, though his cheeks began to heat. It's adrenaline.
He exhaled a shaky breath, his green cap tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his face as he struggled to steady his thoughts. I'm in love with Daisy. The words echoed in his mind, looping over and over like a mantra he desperately clung to. He brushed invisible dust from his gloves and straightened his posture, hoping the simple action might help ground him.
Finally, he opened his mouth to say something—anything—to cut through the awkward tension that lingered after their collision. But before a single word could escape, Ness was already moving.
The boy had turned sharply, clutching his guitar case tightly to his chest. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as he sprinted down the hallway without a single glance back.
Luigi froze, his hand half-raised in an aborted attempt to stop him. "Wait…" he muttered weakly, but the sound barely left his lips. Ness was already gone, leaving only the faint echo of his hurried footsteps behind.
For a moment, Luigi stood there in the empty hallway, unsure of what to make of the strange mix of emotions swirling in his chest. His hand slowly dropped back to his side, and he let out another shaky sigh.
Why does everyone treat me like I'm a monster? The thought echoed in Luigi's mind, heavy and unrelenting, as he trudged down the dim hallway toward his room. His steps were slow, almost hesitant, his head hung low, shoulders slumped beneath the weight of invisible burdens. Everyone seems afraid of me… or disgusted. What did I do wrong?
The memory of Daisy flashed vividly in his mind, her bright smile and melodious laughter now feeling like a cruel phantom. His chest tightened. Even Daisy won't talk to me… Oh, Daisy, my sweet, sweet Daisy.
He reached his room and pushed the door open with a weary hand. The faint creak of the hinges filled the silence, but he barely noticed. Once inside, he shut the door and locked it, shutting out the world that seemed to loathe him.
The lights stayed off as he slipped out of his shoes and crawled into bed. The familiar comfort of his blanket was the only solace he could find. Pulling it over his head, Luigi created a small, dark cocoon where the weight of his emotions could spill freely.
His trembling hands reached for his phone, the screen casting a faint blue glow against his tear-streaked face. He opened his gallery and began scrolling through the photos. Picture after picture of him and Daisy appeared—smiling, laughing, leaning into each other. Each image felt like a dagger to his heart.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto the screen as he whispered, "I miss her so much. Why doesn't she love me anymore?"
He paused, staring at a picture of them at a carnival, Daisy holding a stuffed toy he'd won for her. His thumb hovered over the screen as if he could reach into the image and pull her back to him. The ache in his chest was unbearable. Desperately, he wanted to message her, to tell her everything he couldn't say. But the sting of rejection hit him again. She'd blocked him.
Every day was misery for the green coward.
Even when he tried to be around others, the unease was noticeable. People shifted uncomfortably, their glances wary. Their whispered words felt like knives in his back. And they didn't do it to just him, Mario was also getting this backlash.
Why? he thought bitterly. Why do people look at us differently now?
The reasons people gave were always vague, inconsistent, or outright contradictory. No one gave him a clear answer, leaving him drowning in confusion.
After what felt like an eternity of sobbing into his pillow, Luigi's tears finally slowed. His chest ached, each breath shaky as he tried to compose himself. With a deep sigh, he pulled the blanket off his head, the cool air brushing against his flushed face.
He reached for his phone again, his fingers trembling slightly as he unlocked it and reopened his gallery. Despite knowing it would only hurt more, he couldn't stop himself from scrolling through the photos. Each image was a bittersweet reminder of what he'd lost, a past he couldn't seem to let go of.
His throat tightened as he neared the end of the album, the urge to cry bubbling up once more. But just as another tear threatened to spill, he froze.
His thumb hovered over the screen, and his breath hitched. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at a particular photo, his heart pounding like a drum.
"W-wha?!"
.
Melodic Discord
Tina and the others stopped playing when they saw the door slam open. There was Ness panting, he had his hands on his knees while catching his breath.
Ness: *Pant* *Pant* "I'm—here."
Riley: "What took you so long?"
Ness: "S-sorry, I got side-tracked." (I can't let them know it's because I was in a game of League.)
Kip: "Bruh."
Tina: "No worries, dude."
Riley: "No worries?! Tryouts are soon! We don't have much time."
Tina: "Nah, we got plenty. Besides, we fuckin' rock. I'm sure we'll get in regardless."
Riley: ["Tch! Sure…"]
Ness hurried over to the group, his guitar case clutched tightly in one hand. The hum of voices and the occasional pluck of strings filled the air as everyone prepared their instruments. He quickly set his guitar on the stand and connected it to the amp. The faint buzz of the amplifier hummed to life, filling the room with its electric energy.
For hours on end, they worked tirelessly. Despite the passion driving them, exhaustion began to set in. They could feel their muscles ached from the relentless practice. Still, no one dared to call for a break. The stakes felt too high—every note had to be just right, every chord perfectly in sync.
"Again," Tina said, her voice firm but encouraging.
Ness nodded, his grip tightening on the guitar. His shoulders burned, but he didn't care. He healed it off. With each repetition, the group grew more cohesive, their sound sharpening into something that felt powerful and real.
Eventually, the relentless pace began to take its toll. One by one, the group members started faltering—hands cramping, shoulders sagging, and notes slipping out of tune. Finally, the drummer let out an exasperated groan, dropping his sticks onto the snare.
"That's it. I can't feel my arms anymore," Kip muttered, slumping back in his seat.
The others nodded in agreement, their exhaustion clear. The air in the music hall felt heavy, the once-vibrant energy now replaced with weary silence.
Ness, however, wasn't ready to stop. His grip on his guitar tightened, his eyes darting between his drained bandmates. "Wait," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "I can heal off the pain."
The group turned to him, eyebrows raised.
Riley: "What?"
Ness: "I can heal the cramps."
Kip: "Yoo, what the fuck!"
Tina: "Why're you surprised? It's Smash."
Kip: "True."
Ness: "Do you guys want me to heal you?"
Riley: "Pssh! I don't need help from a human."
Kip: "Yeah, I'm fine. No weird finger magic needed. I just need a break. My ears hurt from all this noise."
Tina: "Guys, you don't need to sound so harsh. He's just tryin' to help."
Riley: "Love that you're always on his side."
Tina: "Dude, calm down. Why're you gettin' all snappy for?"
Kip: "We're fuckin' tired and frustrated."
Tina: "I get that, but don't take it out on Ness. He offered a solution."
Riley: "I don't need it, thank you."
Ness: "O—kay?"
Kip: "What's that attitude for?"
Ness: "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound offended."
Kip: "Tch! Whatever. I need ink."
Tina: "Ya know, I think it's a perfect time for a break anyway."
Lin: ["Thank you for the offer, Ness."]
Ness: "No problem."
The group started packing up their instruments, but suddenly the door swung open. The group turned their attention toward the door. It was none other than Darnell, Tina's fucking ex.
Darnell: "Ayo, ayo, wassup!"
Riley: "Darnell~!"
Kip: "Aye, sup, bro."
Ness: (Oh, eww. What's he doing here?)
Tina: "Darnell? What the fuck are ya doin' here?"
Darnell sauntered into the music hall, his inkling tentacles tied back into a confident ponytail. He stopped a few steps away from the group, crossing his arms as his daring smile grew wider.
He raised a hand and pointed directly at Ness.
"I'm here to take this motherfucka's spot," Darnell declared, his voice loud and unapologetically bold.
The room fell silent. Ness blinked, his mind taking a moment to process the statement. Slowly, he tilted his head, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.
"M-me?" he stammered, his finger lifting to point at himself. "Why?"
Darnell took a step closer, his smile never wavering. "Why?" he echoed, as if the answer were obvious. "Because this band deserves someone who can keep up. Someone who can really bring it. And from what I've seen…" He gestured toward Ness with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "You're dragging them down."
The words hit Ness like a slap to the face. His cheeks flushed, his grip tightening on his guitar. "I-I'm not dragging anyone down!" he shot back, his voice shaky but defiant.
"Prove it. I challenge you to a music battle," Darnell said with a shrug, his tone laced with mockery. "Unless you're scared."
The group exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to intervene.
Ness's hands trembled slightly, but he didn't look away. He straightened his posture, gripping his guitar as determination flared in his chest. "Fine," he said firmly, his voice carrying a newfound steadiness. "Let's do this."
Darnell smirked as he slung his electric guitar over his shoulder, the polished instrument gleaming under the dim lights. With practiced ease, he hooked it up to the amp, the hum of anticipation filling the room.
The two stood across from each other, their eyes locked in an intense stare. Ness's grip on his own guitar tightened, the pressure burning his palm.
Darnell broke the silence with a confident nod before his fingers began to dance across the strings. The room was instantly filled with a melodic tune, rich and vibrant. The notes flowed seamlessly, each one resonating with a crisp clarity that was nothing short of mesmerizing.
It wasn't just music—it was an experience. The sound was smooth yet powerful, like the first bite of premium ice cream on a scorching summer day, each chord melting into the air with effortless precision. The style of his playing had a swagger to it, a kind of unshakable confidence that made it impossible to look away.
Ness felt a bead of sweat slide down his forehead, his teeth clenching involuntarily. His heart pounded as he listened, the corners of his mind whispering what he didn't want to admit: This guy is really good.
The more Darnell played, the harder it became to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. Every flawless note chipped away at his confidence, the doubt creeping in like an unwelcome shadow.
What if I can't match this? What if they think I'm not good enough?
He tried to steady his breathing, but his hands were already trembling. Darnell's smirk widened as he ended his riff with a dramatic flourish, his tentacled hair swaying as he turned back to Ness.
"Well?" Darnell said, his voice dripping with challenge. "Your turn, superstar."
The room fell silent once more, the weight of expectation now squarely on Ness's shoulders.
With a shaky gulp, Ness adjusted his grip on his guitar, his fingers hovering over the strings. The room felt suffocatingly silent, the weight of everyone's gaze pressing down on him like a heavy blanket. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, steadying his breath.
Then, with a deep inhale, he began to play.
The melodic tune that Darnell had just crafted echoed once more through the music hall. Ness's fingers moved across the frets, and for a moment, there was a flicker of hope. He was hitting the notes—almost perfectly.
But it wasn't flawless.
Here and there, his timing faltered, the occasional stumble in his rhythm like a tiny pebble disrupting a stream. Yet, despite the minor mistakes, he kept going, his determination shining through. The fact that he was able to keep up at all, especially with a song he'd never practiced, was impressive in its own right.
When he finished the final note, he exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging as though a weight had been lifted. He glanced up at the group, hoping to see something—approval, amazement, anything to validate his effort.
But the room didn't erupt in applause. The only one that seemed to enjoy his performance was Tina, who smiled a bright smile at him.
But it was clear as glass, the sound, while competent, didn't carry the same magic that Darnell had woven into it. It lacked the effortless smoothness, the charisma, and the vivid energy that made Darnell's performance feel alive. Ness's version was good—technically solid—but it wasn't great. It wasn't memorable.
Darnell leaned against his amp, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Not bad, kid," he said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. "But 'not bad' isn't good enough."
Ness bit his lip, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He hated how Darnell's words stung, hated how much truth they carried.
The rest of the group looked between the two, their expressions a mix of uncertainty and sympathy.
"It's not about being perfect," Tina finally said, her voice soft but steady. "Music's about emotion, Ness. You've got skill—you just need to let yourself feel it more."
Ness nodded weakly, his fingers tightening around the neck of his guitar as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He wasn't about to give up—not yet.
Darnell wasted no time, picking up his guitar with that same air of unshakable confidence. His fingers danced across the strings once more, effortlessly crafting a new song. This one had a faster tempo, with intricate riffs that built into a crescendo so electrifying it sent chills through the room.
Ness watched intently, his heart racing as he tried to break down the notes in his head. When Darnell finished with another dramatic flourish, Ness adjusted his stance and braced himself to follow.
He began to play.
The first few notes came out smoothly, but as the tempo increased, his fingers struggled to keep up. He missed a note here, stumbled on a riff there. While he managed to complete the song, the sound was… fine. It wasn't bad, but it didn't have the same spark, the same magnetic pull that Darnell's playing seemed to command so effortlessly.
When Ness finally finished, his arms dropped to his sides, the guitar hanging loosely in his grip. He could feel their eyes on him, and the silence that followed felt deafening.
Darnell smirked, giving a small, almost condescending clap. "Not terrible," he said, the words cutting more than any outright insult could. "But it's clear who the better player is."
The sting of defeat settled heavily in Ness's chest. He wanted to argue, to say something to defend himself, but he couldn't deny the truth. Today, he'd lost this battle.
Riley: "Darnell for the win!"
Kip: "Hell yeah! Welcome back to the band, Darnell. We missed ya~"
Lin: "..."
Tina: "Hey, what the fuck!"
Riley: "What?"
Tina: "He is not joinin' the band."
Darnell: "Why not? It's clear who the real winner is."
Riley: "Yeah! He won."
Kip: "He's our electric guitarist."
Tina: "If he is, then I'm out."
Ness: "!"
Riley: "What!"
Tina: "You heard me. I'm out."
Lin: ["M-me too."]
Ness: "Guys…"
Darnell: "The fuck you mean you're out?"
Lin: ["Ness is nicer and he's good enough."]
Darnell: "Speak up bitch. I can't hear you over your goddamn mumblin'."
Lin: "I SAID NESS IS NICER AND HE'S GOOD ENOUGH!"
Everyone gasped. Their eyes widened in shock when they heard Lin, the shy bassist yell at the top of her lungs.
Lin: "IF NESS IS GONE, SO AM I!"
Ness: "L-Lin…"
Tina: "Same here! Ness is a part of the team. I don't care if he's an inkling or not, I don't wanna sing with any other guitarist."
Ness: "Tina…"
Riley: "B-but… What about the band? Don't you care?"
Tina: "Of course I do, but if it means replacing Ness, then I can't do it."
Lin: ["I agree."]
Darnell: "I can't believe you would rather sing with a fuckin' amature than me."
Tina: "He's not an amature. He can play."
Kip: "But Darnell's better."
Tina: "It's up to you guys. Do ya want Darnell, or me, Ness, and Lin?"
Riley: "That's not really givin' us a choice. Without you and Lin we don't have a band."
Tina: "Then I think the answer is simple."
Both Riley and Kip rolled their eyes.
Kip: "Fine."
Darnell: "What! Are you for fuckin' real?"
Riley: "Sorry, Darnell. Without them, we won't stand a chance in tryouts."
Darnell: "This is bullshit! Y'all not gonna get in because of him!"
Kip: "I know…"
Tina: "Shut the fuck up! Even if we don't make it, I don't care."
Riley: "What!"
Tina: "You heard me! Music is about havin' fun. Not winning."
Kip: "Then why're we even goin' to tryouts?"
Tina: "Cuz why the fuck not? If we get in, cool! If we don't, then it's whatever. At least we tried."
Darnell: "This shit is why people don't take you seriously Tina."
Tina: "Whatever."
Darnell: "You'll regret this!"
Tina: "Bro, leave. Why the fuck you still here?"
Darnell: "FUCK YOU, CUNT!"
Tina: "Bitch, get out."
Darnell grabbed his electric guitar, slinging it over his shoulder with a frustrated huff. His face was a storm of conflicting emotions—irritation, pride, maybe even a hint of embarrassment. Without another word, he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud.
Riley and Kip were obviously upset that Ness wasn't replaced with Darnell. However, Lin and Tina were relieved.
Lin: ["I'm happy to have you~]
Ness: "Thanks, that means a lot to me."
Tina: "You're irreplaceable."
Ness: "Thank you!"
Tina: "Anyway, I'm exhausted. Let's get outta here."
Ness: "Ok!"
Tina: "Lin, you comin'?"
Lin: ["I'm… Uh… I'm gonna go do my own thing. S-sorry."]
"You're good Lin," she said, turning to Ness with a playful smile. "Looks like it's just you and me~"
Ness blushed, caught off guard by her words. She motioned for him to follow and led him out of the music room.
They walked in silence down the hallway until they reached her room. Ness stopped at the door, hesitating. "W-well, this has been fun. Anyway, I'm going to head back. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, quickly averting his eyes and scratching the back of his head.
She watched him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, stepping closer.
Ness glanced at her, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, yeah. I just… don't want to overstay my welcome," he mumbled, his face flushed.
Tina: "Nah, the night's still young. Come in."
Ness: "W-what?"
Tina: "Come in~"
