Work Text:
9/12/2021
To my constant,
I see you glancing at the bottom of the page to see who this is from. Spotting the signature, deciphering it letter by letter, as your blood begins to boil. Flames flicker behind your lips before you even summon them; you're prepared to burn this paper to ashes.
But stop.
You suppress the spur to destroy this (as much as you want to) because you're curious. There's something surreal about a handwritten letter, and one from your nemesis no less. The man who always gets in your way, who recently ruined your latest plot to take over the Mushroom Kingdom. What could I have to say to you?
Before you trash this, burn it, rip it up, let me plead my case. Humor me with a scan of the page because the words may resonate more than you realize.
I'll be 29 tomorrow, but you already know that. My birthday is marked in thick, black ink on your mental calendar. Clandestine plans are never enough to keep you away. You find us, crash the party, and decimate. Every. Year. Guests scatter the moment they spot your ships and hear your voice. Your footstomps shake the ground, minions flip tables and burn banners, chuck china to the floor. The food is also always a victim; I can't remember the last time I've eaten a piece of birthday cake. You'd think Peach would stop her planning with how consistent you are at showing up uninvited. Yet she continues, and so do you.
You're always there to wreck my parties, to spoil my special day. So determined to feel victorious and hold a smug look on your face. You can't win in a fight but you can ravage events. While not the most effective method, anything is better than nothing. A chance to take your anger out on me in some way. I'd like to make you happy and say 'I hate it when you ruin my birthday.'
But I'd be a liar.
Lying isn't something a hero does. We're honest, kind. Selfless. Our interests are put on hold at the simplest cry for help. We constantly place the priorities of the people—the world above our own because the greater good is what matters. The goal is peace, which if achieved never lasts. New villains are born and old ones retry. Good eternally at odds with bad. Heroes are fated to fight for life, worked like an overheated machine until they're obsolete.
I feel almost robotic, programmed for the sole purpose of saving the princess from your castle. Work, work, work, is that all I'm meant to do? Hell, even the parties and sports games can be exhausting; there's always a chance something could go wrong. Someone (you) could mess things up. I'm always on alert, eyes peeled for the first sign of trouble.
Months pass like Baby Park laps and suddenly I'm another year older. In the blink of an eye, the date is back to September 13th. The one instance where I should be happy and celebrating, I'm forced to face my grim reality: another year unlived. Time flies in and of itself but there's also my life, and how I spend it: Constantly on the clock. I age quickly because I don't have moments to stop and savor. Nothing worth slowing things down.
The party makes it worse. The princess, the toads, others, overjoyed to go above and beyond for their hero. Fine dining, a live band, and breath-taking venues. I'm never in a celebrating mood though. I almost feel mocked when they fawn over me, too. They have no idea what it's really like to have the weight of the kingdom, the world, entire galaxies on my shoulders. Sacrificing my life so they can live theirs. I know when they approach me, wide-eyed and smiling, they have the best intentions, but I can't bear it.
And never have to.
Just when I'm at my breaking point, your airships fly over the horizon. I exhale once my weary eyes meet your confident ones. I love that you wreck my parties. My fake facade falls, focus moves back on you, back on my hero role. A bittersweet distraction. Stop Bowser, save Peach, that's all I have to think about. Time moves at its usual pace for another 365 days, and we start the cycle over again.
I'm sure this reveal is upsetting for you. You're angry that your party crashing hasn't been as dreadful as you once thought it was. More than this, you're frustrated, aggravated. Your fists clench this paper so hard, your nails poke holes. You want to scream, fight, release the negative energy inside you in the form of a flamethrower. The reality of 'something you did actually helped me, your greatest enemy' is humiliating. But it's the truth.
Or maybe you think I am lying, and quite honestly, I wish that were the case. I don't like this miserable feeling, or the guilt that comes with it. I owe everything to the princess and her people. How sad, betrayed would they feel to find that their knight in shining overalls does not appreciate—no, despises his party. That he begs for a certain Koopa King to show up every year and wreck it. They'd think I'd gone crazy. Jump to conclusions.
Assume I hate being a hero.
I care about these people. It would be wrong, selfish not to lend a helping hand when I'm so capable of doing so. Not to mention, heroism has given me a purpose, and it's something I'm good at. I've always loved adventure, too, the feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins. The job satisfies my thirst for thrills better than anything else. I won't and don't want to give it up.
I just want to live. A life of labor isn't living.
I'm defined by my work but don't want to be. There's so much more to me than being a hero; I have other roles and interests: son, brother, friend, close confidant, racer, foodie, etc. All of these are parts that I barely get to play.
You must relate to this on some level. As a king, you probably have it worse than I do. Just as I'm constantly working to protect the Mushroom Kingdom, you're working to take it. Duty upon duty to complete, subjects to satisfy, promises of conquest to keep. Do you ever have as much time as you'd like to spend with your son? To take a day for yourself? I doubt it.
Is this starting to make sense now? I'm trying to tell you that we both have the same issue. The weight of kingdoms on our shoulders with no one to pass the baton to, no way of getting a break. We're destined to do this dance with one another until the day one dies. Friends and family will fade until it's just the two of us. You're my constant and I am yours, our fates intertwined in an endless cord. The world will change and shift around us but we'll always have each other. Like lovers.
Love is an interesting subject because amidst our hectic schedules, it's the one thing we both try to pursue. The piece of normalcy we most desire. We want that sense of comfort, the closeness that comes with a relationship. To be intimate with another person, both emotionally and physically, is a life experience we refuse to be deprived of. A reason to stop, inhale, and smile. Someone to savor.
To be frank, I don't think either of us will get this from Peach.
Kidnapping is not the way to win someone's heart and I think you realize that, or are starting to. The last wedding attempt was quite lavish; you got nothing but the best for the princess: a priceless dress, pure flowers, exquisite cuisine, etc. Yes, every item was stolen, but it was a step in the right direction. Regardless, gifts and glam won't make Peach forget your long history of kidnappings. No matter how many diamond rings you offer, she likely won't accept them.
In my case it's pretty simple: she sees me as a friend. It took far too long for me to realize that the fairytale ending is fake, even in a world with dragons and damsels in distress. I bought into the idea of 'princess and the plumber' just as much as other people did. For a long time, I thought I was in love with her, but there was no real connection. In hindsight, it's probably a good thing because the negatives of being with Peach (becoming king, ruling a kingdom), vastly outweigh the positives. Being royalty would mean losing the small extent of freedom I have to venture the world. It wouldn't be worth it, which is terrible to outright admit let alone scribble on this piece of paper, but the truth is what's important. And the truth is I'm alone and you are, too.
But we don't have to be.
I ask with the utmost sincerity: is nemesis all I am to you? Is hate your only emotion at the mention of my name? The impulse answer is likely 'yes.' For years people have been led to believe that we do not like one another. It's easy to follow along with this assumption. And regardless, you, Bowser the Koopa King, would never admit your opinion of me is a grey area. That would be out of character. But would it be so absurd of me to confess that my opinion of you isn't all bad (far from it)? At this point, it shouldn't be a big surprise.
Our continuous conflict is the closest thing we'll ever have to a relationship. It's sad really. Hero and villain constantly at odds, both longing for love they'll eternally fail to obtain. Why do we torture ourselves this way? Why haven't we acknowledged that suffering separately isn't the sole solution? We deserve to be happy.
I see the hint of pleasure in your eyes when we face off; it mirrors mine. As annoying as a hero can be 'ruining your awesome plans,' you like how perseverant I am. Reclaiming each territory, conquering your forces, battling you time after time, I always put up a good fight. It's no surprise you do the same. Our encounters are addictively fun, until we remember this isn't a game. It's kingdoms at war. This fact, oppressive and unchanging, shouldn't stop us though.
I'm done with the fancy words and romanticized pleas. The truth is what matters —I've been saying it this whole time—but I've been hovering the past three pages. How will you react to me voicing the thought that's likely been collecting dust in the basement of your mind for as long as you can remember (stored away for safekeeping, considered on occasion but never acted upon)? I don't know, but I need to know.
Straight, no buffers, I want to be more than foes. I want to believe that our situation isn't coincidence or just 'part of the job;' it's fate we're here together. It's God, the Star Spirits (whatever you want to believe) pressing us closer. We've been refusing to connect no matter how many times we're forced into one another while someone, something has been trying to open our eyes to the idea that opposites attract. "Good" and "bad" blend together beyond work-related matters, beyond labels, beyond expectations. The answer to our shared problem has been staring right at us this entire time: We're meant to be more than enemies. Acquaintances, friends, or at least friendly with one another when the world has its back turned. I'm tired of lying, tired of saying I'm 'perfectly fine' to every being I interact with. I want one close companion, one confidant that I can be vulnerable with. Bowser, as backwards as it sounds, I want you.
I get lost in this reverie. My mind extends the very possibility of us. My thoughts drift past platonics, swept up by the current and pulled to deeper waters. It's useless to fight—deadly actually, not that I do anymore. I let the rip guide me, distance me from the land and the people on it until forward, back, left, right, there's nothing but the color blue. The open sea is unfamiliar and dangerous. Scary, but mesmerizing. I float for what feels like minutes, sometimes hours till the waves of reality rise and crash me back on the shoreline. It's painful, but the aftermath is what hurts the most. Sandy and shivering, I long to be enveloped again.
It's rare I get the chance to visit the beach let alone swim. Most days there's the occasional brush of ocean before it recedes. A tease. A taste. I want more. Always more.
Talk to me.
Think of it as a birthday gift to make up for all the missed ones. Hate me. Love me. Agree with me. Ridicule me for having these thoughts and reveal my secrets to the world. Don't leave me lost in the land of 'what ifs,' because I'll never find my way out. Respond to this letter, in some way, shape, or form, because an answer —good or bad— is better than none.
See you tomorrow,
Mario