Chapter Text
Smiling wasn't a thing anymore for the purple clad turtle. It had never had been in the first place, stern; always stern, or whenever its his irresponsible younger brother acting out, it will always be dark, and stern there would be no more cackling at a joke whenever the orange clad turtle, decided to paint raphael's shell pink, there would be no smile, no sniggering, nothing it always be on his invention; looking down all the time, he downright hated smiling it was always forced -and he didn't like it one bit.- he really doesn't know why he stopped forcing a smile, or a cackle, even his crush on april o'neil was fading slightly. -turning in to something horrible.-
Ahh, Her. his mind was thought bitterly; he doesn't think of small kisses on the cheek or, lips, those soft smooth lips. but whenever she does praise him with a kiss or hug, he just thinks of grabbing her tying her up on his medical experiment table, doing things that must normal people don't do. But hey? He wasn't normal. He was a freak; a teenager, mutant turtle, no one loved him, sure April was there friend -and so was casey, but his disliking for him turned in to hatred.- but how long could she keep this charade up? until she broke down and had enough of them already and told the news station.
Scattered all on his desk, papers for a invention that he worked years on, one that his brothers didn't know about, or master splinter; and will never know about.
CRASH!
.
.
.
A brief second later there was yelling, the purple clad turtle turned around with a gasp, his emotions showing, as the younger brother tried to make an excuse for his ruckus.
years,YEARS!
Years of work and dreams shattered, all because of his half-witted brother decide to mess around with his projects.
But he let Michelangelo speak.
"D-Donnie I can explain!" His hands waved everywhere, the liquid of his experiment dripping all over the table and his brother, he kept emotionless.
He hates being called Donnie.
"It was ice cream kitty you see and...and he got in here a-and."
There was a verbal growl from his voice Donatello said, "Get out."
a whimper escaped his younger brother's throat.
But he didn't care, "B-but D-donnie."
"I said get out!" and so he did scrambling to get to the door and poorly shutting it, the younger brother probably off going to Raphael or Leonardo.
Donatello sighed, as.he leaned on the door, he's pissed, years of his work has been damaged, now he'll never get It back.
There's something in him that swells and he can't take the brief of this moment that he hears his older brothers footsteps walking down towards his room, too give him a 'Talking.'
he doesn't want to talk. He wants april, he wants to see her smile her warm embrace, he wants her.
and he's going to have HER.