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Moleville’s mine provided them with the third piece of the Star Road; wonderful progress until Geno once again reminded himself that it was out of seven. It did not bring him any comfort to know they had traversed about a third of the Mushroom Kingdom’s land already, and from here there was nothing but cliffs, crags, valleys, and even volcanoes that he would comb head to toe to find a piece if he must. Though, he was quite grateful for Frogfucius’ guidance; the next one in their path was, blessedly, perched in Star Hill. Far better was the notion that it had been untouched, unsullied by villainous hands, which meant Star Hill had gone untouched by Smithy’s goons. That, at least, he could take comfort in; knowing they could not gain access to a place so special to him and his fellow stars.
But the journey had to wait until tomorrow. The mines were hectic and horrifying--he never wanted to ride in a mine cart ever again--and Mario had been dead set on visiting Frogfucius for his wisdom before they finally retired for the night. Now, they reside in Rose Town’s Inn with Gaz’s mother generously providing the trio a room free of charge--as an ongoing apology for her son knocking Mario out upon their first meeting. Gaz had talked his head off until his mother pulled him away with another slew of apologies, still believing he was a kindly man in costume.
He had finally laid down after idly performing maintenance on the wood of his body and hanging his cap beside Mario’s, but despite the exhaustion dragging at him, he could not sleep.
So when he heard movement he lifted his head at once, despite the protesting joints of his borrowed body, catching Mallow slipping out from the bed he and Mario shared. He looked as if he hadn’t slept at all--his eyes were wide open and his expression was pulled in quite a miserable masterpiece. He hadn’t noticed Geno staring at him yet, but even then he made sure to keep quiet as he shuffled towards the door to their room.
“Mallow,” Geno called after him, keeping his voice a low tenor, though his fluffy friend jumped quite harshly at the sound and met his gaze with wide eyes, mouth clamped strictly shut, “My apologies for startling you. What is the matter?”
“Uhh,” Mallow shuffled awkwardly before the door, turning his head around the room, “Um… I was looking… for… the bathroom?” He offered with a nervous smile.
Geno frowned, glancing towards the bathroom door that was, decidedly, on the other side of the room. Mallow could not have been further away from it if he tried. The silence seemed to pressure his friend, as he hurried to correct himself, holding his hands up as if in surrender.
“S-sorry, I’m really… really tired,” he explained, faking a yawn, “I forgot which way it was, so I’ll just be on my way now…” He shifted in the direction of the bathroom door, but he hardly moved from his spot near the front door. Geno, for his part, sighed, and he shuffled to one side of his bed.
“You aren’t the best at lying, my fluffy little friend,” his words earned a guilty look from the child, who ducked his head to avoid his scrutiny, “Come. Sit with me.”
To his credit, Mallow sulked his way over to his bed this time, pulling himself up with his surprisingly stretchy arms. He did not meet his gaze and Geno would not pressure him to, though he kept his watchful eye over him. He waited until Mallow had stopped adjusting himself, his fluff taking up plenty of space. Not that he minded.
“What’s the matter?” Geno tried again, softer this time, now that he didn’t have to carry his voice across the room. Mallow wrung his hands together, his thumb brushing against the back of his own hand.
“Frogfucious told me I wasn’t a real tadpole, before we met you,” Mallow began, struggling with the name on his tongue as if it were as foreign as his own name to them, “He raised me. I was convinced for my whole life that that’s who I was, but… he told Mario to take me to find my real family. That they were probably looking for me.”
“I see. That must have been quite difficult for you,” Geno certainly never thought he looked like a tadpole, but he kept that tidbit to himself--no doubt that was on Mallow’s mind as well, “And your troubles lie around that.” He leaned onto the point, not wishing to push his companion past his comfort zone.
Mallow nodded miserably, head still bowed.
“I want to find my family--and I want to find out who I am. But at the same time, he raised me,” he continued, “I don’t want him not to be my family. He’s always been Grandpa to me. But what if he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore, when I find my parents?”
If Geno hadn’t already been awake, that certainly would have woken him up, alarm spiking through his core in sharp bursts of sparks. Galaxies afar, had he truly been deliberating over this the entire duration of their companionship?
“No, no, Mallow,” he shook his head adamantly, taking up one of the boy’s hands like he’d seen Mario do for him before, “Your grandfather adores you, that much is clear, even to me. He addresses you far differently than he does Mario and I.”
He recalled his first encounter with the sage--the reverence directed at him as a star come to their land below, and the respect he held towards Mario as the twenty-times-over hero of the Mushroom Kingdom--but the way he spoke to Mallow was far from the way he spoke with anyone else, minus the tadpoles themselves. While sometimes strict, Geno could hear the fondness in his voice--see it in his wizened gaze. It was much like Eldstar, much like their higher authority, he had noted at the time.
“But he’s letting me go.” Mallow countered, facing Geno head-on now. His retort wasn’t unkind, but the hurt bridling in his expression did not sit well in his mind--it was terribly discordant to the image of the cheery, laughing, determined child he knew both in daylight and in battle.
“Not because he wants you gone,” Geno pushed onward, trying to bring some light through dense storm clouds of muddled, miserable, misguided thoughts, “He wants you to learn the truth. For you to learn what he cannot tell you. When we do find your parents--and we will--” he promises, perhaps recklessly, “You will not have to choose between them and Frogfucius. If you still want him to be your grandfather, then he will be.”
Mallow stared up at him for a moment, silence spreading between them, his eyes sparkling as the night sky did from below. Did he say something wrong? Galaxies, Mario would have been far better for this--he has a brother, after all--and Geno hardly had much understanding of family dynamics on the kingdom’s surface as it was, and here he was trying to give Mallow wisdom for something he didn’t even know much about.
“You think so?” Mallow asks, though Geno barely picks up the sound.
“I am absolutely certain,” he nods, putting on the most reassuring front he can manage, “whoever you want can be a part of your family, if you so wish.”
His core stirs at the use of the word; it feels foreign to encourage someone to wish for something, knowing how the sounds of wishes felt on his initial descent to the land, but Mallow was so young. Sometimes, wishes did not need the guidance of stars; just a bit of hope.
He must have done something right, because Mallow’s face finally brightens into a smile, much to his unending relief. He returns a smile of his own, patting his friend’s hand and finally releasing his grasp. Though, he finds himself surprised when he watches Mallow’s eyes start to slip shut involuntarily, though his fluffy friend blinks himself back awake, if only to speak once more.
“You’re really cool, Geno…”
Oh.
His chest feels abnormally warm at the child’s confession--and perhaps his face, too--and the feeling melts into his tired joints and addled mind. The stress and the worries and the pains melt away in the wake of the child’s words as if it were his healing magic raining gently over his battered body, and all he can think is oh.
He is thrown out of his stupor when fluff settles against his side, and he all but melts even further when he realizes his friend fell asleep on him. It was late, after all, it was no surprise he was exhausted. He himself had learned what happened when you didn’t voluntarily sleep the hard way. If anything, it assured him that all that was troubling Mallow was smoothed over enough to allow his mind to settle and let him sleep.
Nevermind what he thought before. He was good at this.
… But, he had to concede that perhaps these things were best left to Mario.
Geno shifted both him and his snoozing companion to lay down in a more comfortable position, and he pulled the blanket up around Mallow’s shoulders, attempting to tuck him in like Mario would do--however awkward the angle was, considering he was also in the bed--and he just managed to keep himself from chuckling when Mallow happily snuggled into the warmth.
Then, letting his eyes slip shut and the warmth sink into his wooden joints, he finally joins his friends in the world of dreams.