C h a p t e r / O n e

( Delicate )

It's around five in the morning when Luigi hears the sound of the door slowly creaking open. Luigi's sleepy blue eyes snap open, the only thing in his line of vision being the wall with the chipped paint and the faint stain of bloody finger prints from a time he wishes he could forget. Besides wishing that Mario would stop drinking, he wishes that he could sleep peacefully. Even if it were for just one night. And yeah, he knows that's weird, but he'd be extremely grateful he could sleep the whole night through. The last thing he wants is bags under his eyes. Well, there better then black eyes. He hears the floorboards squeak, is Mario tip-toeing? Why is he tip-toeing? He doesn't even need to be sneaky, the reek smell of whiskey can give anyone away. The smell becomes alot stronger and he knows that means that Mario's getting closer, he cowers underneath the duvet comforter, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Luigi," He coos softly and it makes Luigi wince, he hates the way that he says his name. It sounds sweet, but it's really just laced with venom. Mario lets out a breathless chuckle, his steps alot more heavy now. Every thump thump thump that goes through the floor arises into the bed and makes tiny little vibrations that make Luigi feel like he's getting smaller and smaller. Inferior. "Weegee." He sing songs and Luigi wants nothing more then to punch Mario in the gut and make a run to the front door. But he knows that would be a foolish thing to do, considering he's tried that once and he definitely learned his lesson. The burn marks from his cigarettes are still on his arms and thighs, they still sting. Mario extends his arm out and reaches towards Luigi, but he squirms away until his back touches the wall and the blanket has tangled his legs together and that makes Luigi nervous.

"I don't...want to." Luigi says, trying to sound strong, but instead his tongue trips all over his words and it comes out like a weak whimper. Mario laughs, like he thinks that he's just joking and that he actually loves Mario and that maybe he does want to take his clothes off and invite him into bed. But those are just constant lies that swim in his head while he violates Luigi over and over and he breaks his spirit completely. "Please, go away." The piteous voice faltered as it thinned and eventually died when it could no longer find the strength to beg anymore, Mario reaches for Luigi again, this time being able to latch onto the collar of Luigi's shirt. He pulls him closer, his face a few inches away from Luigi's, the smell of whiskey is disgusting. Luigi hates alcohol.

"Yes you do, you always want to." Mario says like it's a fact and it's not true, if Luigi did want this, he would just throw himself on Mario. But he isn't, which just proves how much Luigi doesn't want this. Mario's hand starts stroking Luigi's cheek and strangely enough, it feels nice. Nice? Really? That's not something Luigi usually thinks when Mario touches him, it's usually rough and painful. He's being sweet, but knowing Mario as well as Luigi does, he knows this isn't going to last very long. His finger slides down from Luigi's cheek to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up slowly, making Luigi shudder in disgust. "Your so soft, Luigi." He says, voice hoarse.

He then steps over Luigi, sitting on his lap, smiling like this is romantic. This isn't romantic, it's disgusting and wrong and Luigi wants to cry so badly right now. But crying just leads to pain, physical pain to be exact and Luigi is already in enough pain right now. Mario swoops down to Luigi's face and kisses him; it's soft and sweet but not at all matching what his hands are doing. Pinning Luigi's wrists and holding on to them so tightly, leaving bruises that Luigi's so thankful he has long sleeves to cover. Mario moans into Luigi's mouth and his hand is slowly trailing down to his nether regions, a place where he doesn't not belong, but he'll never understand that. "So good.." Mario gasps as he pulls away and feverishly starts kissing Luigi's stomach.

Luigi sniffs quietly while Mario continues on with his bussiness, tears staining his pale cheeks and he wonders why Mario's doing this to him. Abusing the one he supossedly 'loves' so much. What did he do to deserve this? Did he do something so horribly wrong, so evil, so vile that some higher athority enflicted this horrible day-in-to-day-out punishment? Whatever. If this is the punishment, then it's working, Luigi is slowly losing the will to go on anymore.

"Oh Luigi," Mario coos softly, already having pulled down Luigi's pants down to his ankles, face flushed and panting heavily. Luigi moans softly in response, but not because he likes it, mostly because he can't really help it. All that rubbing feels good no matter what, even if you want it or you don't. Well, that might not be true for most, but for Luigi it definitely is.

"I love you, so so much."

Lair.

As much as you might think, Luigi doesn't hate Mario. And he's pretty sure that's not normal, as much as Mario hurts him, tortures him, you would think Luigi would despise Mario. But he doesn't. He loves Mario more then anything actually and he knows it's twisted. You don't have to tell him that, he's very much aware of it, he just wished he could hate him. But as much as he tries and as many reasons Mario keeps throwing at him, Luigi can't hate Mario. It's impossible. It's so sick and wrong, yet so impossible to hate his tormentor. After Mario is done breaking Luigi's spirit for the hundredth time (or maybe more then that, but whos counting?) he gets up and leaves, murmuring something underneath his rancid breath about more booze. Luigi turns his head to face the dresser, the clock, flashing green numbers embedding themselves into his corneas showed that it was seven o'clock in the morning, great. Another night ruined.

Luigi staggered to his feet, his thighs feeling sticky and he shudders, making a quick note to himself to take a shower immediatly after making Mario breakfast. He wanders over to the living room slowly, turning his head to look at a drunken Mario who's passed out on the couch. Luigi can't really help himself when he covers Mario's passed out body with a clean fleece blanket instead of the dirty blanket that's been lying in the corner where the spiders build their cobwebs. Your too nice, dammit.

Luigi shuffles back to the kitchen, not really sure what to make this time, Mario hates pancakes and waffles, so what does that leave? Cereal? No, Mario smacked him the last time, complaining about how Luigi 'can do better then to feed him this crap'. Funny, if he wanted something other then 'crap' then he should have cooked it himself, why waste food? Mario doesn't eat, he drinks and drinks, but he doesn't eat. But he should get started, he thinks, before Mario comes in and rages about being malnourished. Luigi hates his life, he really, really does. Luigi freezes up and his blood runs cold as he hears an ominous sound come from the living room.

"Hmph, Luigi?" Mario asks, voice hoarse, as he stomps towards the kitchen. Out of nervous habit, Luigi starts fidiling with random pots and pans that are laying about the kitchen, trying to make himself look busy. The older sibling stops at the doorway, leaning against it lazily, eyes narrowed at Luigi. "What are you doing?"

Luigi doesn't face him, instead he puts the ladle in the sink, even though it isn't dirty. "Cooking."

"That doesn't look like cooking."

Luigi responds with an intelligent. "Umm."

Mario steps forward, walking around the counter and takes the ladle from the sink slowly, Luigi watches it disappear from his line of vision. He turns to face Mario, because he knows how mad he gets if Mario thinks that Luigi isn't listening to him. In the meantime, Luigi tries to look guilty. His eyes are wide and look sad, even though he doesn't feel the least bit guilty. Mario rises the ladle up, in a threatening manner and Luigi never thought he would be afraid of a ladle in his entire life.

"Umm?" Mario mimics, whirling the ladel between his fingers. "Are you sure?"

Luigi doesn't understand the question, he just stares at Mario, blinking dumbly. Completely inarticulate. It happened all so quickly, the way the ladle was risen and the way it collided with the side of Luigi's jaw, his head snaps back as he stumbles backward and hits the wall. He makes an odd noise out of intense pain, he hears Mario laugh while blood sloshes out of the side of his mouth and creates a red pool at Mario's feet.

"Luigi!" Mario cries out, in fake disstress. "You got blood on my shoes!"

Luigi lets out a loud wail in response.

"Oh Weegee," Mario coos, a smug smirk spreading across his face. "Your so delicate, I barely touched you!"

Barely?

Mario walks over, swaying a little as he does, the metal ladel hidden behind his back. Luigi cowers in the corner, crying and desperately trying to block the blood flow, Mario cups Luigi's chin and rises his head up to look at him.

"Aww, did that hurt?" He asks, in mock compassion. "There's some bandages in the bathroom, you should get some."

A/N: hello. :3 new story thingyy. its going to be incest sooo if you dont like that then dont wast your time reading this.