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Mario now knew he was never actually romantically interested in Peach. It felt weird to say it, but he was gay.
She had—to Mario’s shock—taken his realization with stride. Peach ended up being a massive support to him while he tried to figure it all out.
Yet despite all that, he couldn’t find it in him to admit how he realized.
(Peach knew though. She knew before he did, but she’d never tell him that.)
It was Geno. Mario loved Geno. He loved how the star was so laser focused on his goal, but still was able to be so kindhearted. How he was able to annihilate enemies with ease, and used that power to protect instead of destroy.
Mario loved how Geno would act nonchalant, but still slipped up. How he occasionally stumbled in a body that he was unused to. How the star’s rarely heard laughter would fill the room with such beautiful warmth. And the way Geno’s eyes would light up in wonder when seeing the beauty of Mario’s world, despite how hard he tried to hide it.
But Geno was gone. Not dead, just gone. Geno was at the Star Road, continuing the all important work he did.
Yet Mario still grieved. The fact was he wouldn’t be able to see his crush ever again. It felt like a massive gash in his heart, ripping itself further apart every time he was reminded.
The hero would find himself wishing that Geno would come back somehow late in the night. He hoped Geno didn’t see those wishes.
(He did.)
Mario still had to do things. Constantly. It was one thing after another: defeat this enemy, help that civilian, save that person. They never gave him a break.
So despite how he wished he could lock himself in his room and cry for hours; he continued to be the hero everyone wanted.
Eventually everyday blended together into a painful slog. Mario did what people wanted without complaint before going home and locking himself away.
He waited for it to get better.
It wasn’t.
Despite how little the hero could force himself to eat, eventually he was forced to go grocery shopping.
That’s when he saw it.
A Geno plushie.
Of course he’d seen plenty of toys like the one the star possessed before. Yet, this one felt different.
Instead of being with all the others in the toy isle, this one was all alone on top of some soda boxes.
After carefully inspecting the plushie, Mario found it still had a tag attached. The hero sat it inside the cart.
He didn’t think about anything as he continued to shop.
“So, what lucky kid is going to get this?”
“Huh?” Mario’s eyes snapped up.
“The plushie,” The cashier elaborated. “My nephew loves this character.”
“Oh, uh, my cousin,” He stammered. “It’s their birthday soon…”
Mario tuned out the cashier’s voice as she talked more about her nephew. He grabbed his groceries and left before she could ask him any more questions.
The journey home was, thankfully, uninterrupted. Mario arrived back home just as the sun was setting. He haphazardly put the groceries away.
Mario fell onto his bed, staring at the ceiling until he had the energy to sit back up.
The man went back over to the grocery bag sat on the floor. He reached down and pulled the plushie out.
“Hi.”
No response.
(Mario didn’t know why he expected a response.)
The hero went back to his bed, plushie in tow. He said nothing as he flopped back down.
He rolled over onto his side, pulling the plush in closer.
“I miss you.” He whispered into the plushie’s head.
…
(The plushie wasn’t much. It wasn’t enough. But it was something.)
(At least it was something.)
“Night Geno.”