A/N: Ugh finishing this was like pulling teeth, but here it is. It really sucks, I'm sorry. But I tried.

Keep Breathing, Darling

Luigi doesn't like confrontations. The younger sibling frowned, parting his lips slightly so as to allow his teeth better access to the poor, abused digit. Most of his fingers were ruined, actually; bitten down to the quick, coated in sticky red blood like strawberry jam. His fingers were shaking as though he had arthritis, bitten nails catching a loose thread on the plush pillow on the couch. Butcher knife resting underneath his thigh. Ready for anything. Luigi's eyes stare deep into the television, even though it shows nothing but static. He can't really remember the last time when the television worked..Oh wait, last night..right before..

No, don't think about that now.

Don't think about neat gashes and knife-marks in criss-crossing spider patterns along far too pale arms and legs, one even spreading across her face from the bottom of her eye, across her nose and down to the chin. Don't think about crimson lines trickling steadily from her eye - if there was an eye anymore. Baby blue eyes popped out of their sockets by invading fingertips prying where they were not needed with far too much pressure. Skin that had been stripped from her left arm and left to hang down in tatters, exposed muscle and splintered bones protruding out at every angle imaginable.

Don't think about her, the fact that she's dead - copper red rust staining her pretty pink dress and her pretty pale cheeks. Crimson water dyed with blood trickled down from her bruised lips, empty eye, wrecked arms, down her dress - leaving a tie dye look across it.

He could only imagine.

There probably wasn't an inch of her body that wasn't that hasn't been broken, bent, burnt, stuck through with a knife, drowned in a pond or thrown down the stairs. Luigi flinched, his shoulders slumped, teeth biting his lips hard in an attempt to choke back a sob. Breathing - gulping down nausea, brain ticking like a clock as it ran through scenario after scenario, fingers clenching and running with sweat despite the cold that tugged at hair and clothes and – creakkkk.

The door opens slowly, a half inch from the door frame, then slams shut abruptly. Heavy footsteps are heard and Luigi squeezes his eyes shut and just tries to breathe. Fingers curl around the couch pillows nervously, the tip of the blade underneath his thigh poking him through the fabric of his jeans, he can do this - he hasn't murdered anyone before, but how hard can it be? Mario needs to pay and if this is the way it has to end, so be it.

"Heyy, your awake.." Mario says and it almost sounds like he's drunk. "How's my baby..?"

His fingers graze across the top of the couch cushion, walking around so he could take a seat next to Luigi. Luigi doesn't respond, he places his hand next to his thigh, waiting for the right moment.

"What's wrong?" Mario asks, slidding down next to him and smiling, Mario's hand creeps up and finds his way onto Luigi's hand. Luigi flinches as Mario laces their fingers together, as if this were a friendly moment between them. "You look upset."

"The television broke...." Luigi says softly, eyes glued to his other hand.

"We can always find someone to fix it," Mario says, leaning in to kiss Luigi's neck and he does nothing to stop him, he just needs him close - so he can do the damage that needs to be done, very soon. "But I feel like doing other stuff right now."

Luigi's face flushes, he knows what "other stuff" means.

"S...Sure," Luigi states, knowing that he isn't the best lair and just hoping that Mario's stupid enough to buy this. "Um, can we do it in your room?"

Mario blinks, honestly surprised and very much used to Luigi resisting, but willing Luigi is just as much as a turn on for him. Mario grins, sitting up - hand still connected to Luigi's.

"W..Wait! Uh, I..need to get something," Luigi states nervously, smacking himself onto the couch again and the knife almost ends up cutting him. "Just meet me there, please?"

Mario nods, a little confused, but he bought it and that is all that matters right now. Mario walks off into the corner where the hallway is and Luigi quickly shoves the knife into his pocket, swallowing his fear and determined. Luigi gets up, still not sure of how he's going to pull this off but he's sure that he can manage, he stops at the door. Mario's sitting down at the edge of the bed, he looks up at Luigi and pats the space next to him.

"Y'know, I've been thinking about this all day." Mario says, reaching over to pull Luigi in by the hand. Luigi ends up on Mario's lap and it feels a little uncomfortable, although he's not sure why, it's not like they haven't done this before. Mario's lips move gently against Luigi's, his eyes are closed and this looks like this might just be his chance. Luigi pushes himself against Mario's body to smack him down onto the comforter, kissing back feverishly just as a distraction. Luigi reaches over to his pocket, slowly, as Mario's hands are preoccupied by fiddling with Luigi's hair. The blade slides out without complications, Luigi's shaking hands holding it still - Mario doesn't notice, his lips are occupied as well - Luigi almost thinks that he can't do this.

But he has to.

Luigi fights back tears, for some reason, Luigi kisses harder - like it means something, but it doesn't, right? - Mario's tongue slides in and presses against Luigi's for a split second before it darts back into his own mouth.

It's then, that Mario feels a sharp pain at his side. And another, and another, and another. His vision was all of a sudden filled with red haze, he felt fast strikes repeatedly and the pain just kept getting more and more intense.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry..!" Luigi squeaked weakly as the knife went deeper and deeper into Mario's chest.

After a while, Mario stops moving, stops breathing.

Luigi opens his eyes, vision hazy from tears streaming down his face, panting heavily. He looks down, eyes wide and body shaking completely, there's no mistaking it.

Mario's dead.

Luigi's drops the bloody blade, covering his eyes and weeping, he drops himself on the corpse - and embraces it tightly. Mario's cold, so very cold.

"I love you..." Luigi mumbles softly.

Eventually, Luigi gets up, heads to the living room - the phone lying idly on the receiver. His hands tremble, but his fingers manage to dial the number. When he gets through all he can say is: "Come quickly, someones been hurt."

Luigi goes back to Mario's room, back to Mario's bleeding and cold body, he lands on the bed next to him. His index finger curling around his hair, watching him intently, his big blue eyes are still wide open.

In a brief moment of nostalgic sentimentality, Luigi closes the corpse's eyelids. It's a meaningless gesture; the knife sticking out of his throat is his.