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Donatello leaned lazily against the kitchen island as he took in a hesitant sip from his freshly poured mug of coffee. He supposed he should be asleep by now- not because Raphael said he shouldn’t stay up till the crack of dawn, working on countless updates, new ideas, or gifts- but instead because he was… well… all caught up.
Christmas went off without a hitch, and he had- yet again- successfully pleased everyone with his personalized gifts. New Year’s Eve had also been a massive joy. For the first time since the invasion, everyone was able to watch the ball drop in the center of Times Square, and, man, did people turn up for the spectacle this year. Once everyone had shared their hugs, Mikey insisted everyone read out their number-one-most aspiration for the forthcoming year. “2022 is gonna be our year, guys!,” he could remember Mikey shouting over the loud music and screams from the street below as they cheered from their space on the roof.
Now, at the oddest hour of the day- 3:30 in the morning- Donatello fought with the pit in his stomach. Why am I so anxious if… everything is alright?
His answer is found when quiet steps from the hall catch Donatello’s attention. He poked his head into the tunnel and looked down toward the den to see a dark shadow, stumbling out of the room. His eyebrows pressed together as he watched a limb reach for a scarf that had been laying in a pile of winter gear by the exit. Their features remain indistinguishable for the most part, but accounting for height, posture, and build…
“Leo?” Donatello whispers into the darkness. The shadow doesn’t hear him as it leaves.
Everyone else had finally crashed for a much needed rest after the abundant festivities from the last several days. Leo and Mikey were a team in making this “the most fire holiday ever!,” according to the blue-banded turtle, that is. He had only ever exuded pure joy since Donnie first heard Mariah Carey blasting over the lair speakers in the wee hours of November 1st. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve found his obnoxious cheeriness a little more suspicious. Not that it was odd for his twin to be rambunctious, but after the last year or so of recovery, Leonardo had always seemed to have more limitations for his energy now. However, for the last two months, the teen had been a little too positive. Too happy… It wasn’t that Donatello didn’t want his brother to be happy- but an experience like that doesn’t just… go away. It sticks with you like a bad taste on your tongue. Maybe Donatello didn’t object because, Hey! Leo’s carefree again! Thank pizza supreme!
But that’s not how growing up works, and now that Donnie has connected the dots, he finds himself setting the mug down and snagging his winter jacket from the back of the dining chair he had discarded it onto earlier.
—
Some time ago, Donatello had lost Leonardo in a crowd of drunkards, stumbling through the streets of the city, shouting various incorrect lyrics to Auld Lang Syne. The softshell hated drunk people; They were loud, smelly, and often rude. Of course, New York City was packed (more so than usual) with them on New Years. Donatello felt frustration rising in his chest as he tried his best to scan the steadily emptying streets. He covered his nose with a gloved hand to mask the stench of alcohol and back-alley garbage. “Why’d you have to walk… Couldn’t’ve just portalled or gone across the rooftops… Noooo, Leo just had to walk across New York Fuckin’ City on New Year’s Eve!”
A heavy hand slaps across Donatello’s back, “Iss New Year DAY now, green dude!!! Ball fell!!”
Donatello recoiled at the touch and shoved the man back, “ Please, random people, do not touch me.” He growled and looked into the alley, noticing a fire-escape nearby. Abandoning the blubbering drunk guy, he leapt up to the second-story rail and continued to climb till he reached the roof of the 1020’s block of Amsterdam Avenue. He flipped his goggles down and peered out over W 110th. A blue figure registered as a small blip amongst grey. “There you are…” The slider appeared to be approaching the Fredrick Douglas roundabout, heading toward the northwest-most corner of Central Park. Donatello flipped his goggles back on top of his head and continued his trek after his twin.
—
He found his brother by the bank of a stream in the North Woods, tossing pebbles into the water and letting out a quiet groan of frustration. Donatello approached quietly from behind. He watched for a moment, his lips pursed as he watched another rock splat into the water, drawing another growl from Leonardo. A quiet “shit!” told Donnie he should intervene before Leo hurt himself on accident somehow. He could picture a sharp pebble ricocheting off a tree and hitting the slider square in the head. Best for that not to happen to the face man. He’s already dealt with enough damage to his thick head.
“You need to use a smoother pebble… and throw a little slower… and shallower… Otherwise you’ll just cut through the surface of the water.”
Leonardo’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t turn to face his brother. They stand quietly, several feet apart, before the runaway teen speaks. “I tried everything. I can’t do it.”
Donatello moves to stand beside Leo to inspect the water. “That’s not your fault. This stream is not an adequate body of water for skipping stones.”
Leo slumps down beside the stream, tossing one final pebble into the icy water with a muted ‘plop.’ Donnie decides to sit as well, settling to Leo’s right side, and just to wait for Leo to feel ready to speak. Cold air nips at their snouts and bites at their fingertips through their gloves. The softshell buries his nose into his scarf as he looks out over the glistening, partially frozen water. He can distantly hear singing nearby with the quiet hum of the city that never sleeps. New York… He hears a shuddering breath as a snowflake lands in the space between his eyes. What a town…
“I… I’m tired.” Leo almost whispers. Donatello turns to face his brother, watching his eyes shimmer in the moonlight and blink to fend off the cold. Donnie gives him a moment to continue, but when he doesn’t, he decides to prompt.
“Of?”
It takes his twin a second of thought to respond. “I don’t know… of… existing, I guess. Not- Not in that way, but just in a… like… I wish I was a kid again, way.” He fiddles with his hands in his lap, occasionally picking up the snow from between his legs to crunch it in his palm.
Donatello nods and looks forward again. “I understand.,” he whispered back after some time. “Ever since we found the Hidden City, it feels like our lives have just been upended. I know for us it was… extreme to say the least; But I’ve heard that it usually happens to kids around our age. You start understanding the gravity of things and suddenly… you realize how little control you have.” He could feel Leo shift beside him. He waited.
“I wasn’t excited for Christmas. I mean, I tried to be, I really did. I tried to spend as much time as possible with you guys, and to put genuine effort into my presents and keeping everyone happy… But when I was opening my gifts from everyone else, I just felt like… I didn’t want any of it. Like none of it mattered.” He chuckled bitterly. “Like, life has the capability to just make everything… go away whenever it wants; So… how am I supposed to enjoy anything? How am I supposed to feel connections if I could lose them at a moment’s notice?”
Crunch. Another ball of snow met its fate and crumbled to the ground. This time Donnie winced at the sound.
“How do people just… move on? H-how am I supposed to just get over it, when I was ready to never see you guys ever again?” Crunch.
“Donnie, I… I was… I was ready to be stuck there forever.” Crunch.
“I was prepared to take hit after hit and… the moment I was there… actually there… I wished… I wished that I hadn’t.” Crunch.
“And now! Now that I’m back- now that I’ve had time - I should be recovered, I should be happy…Happy that I managed to, by some miracle, do both.” Crunch.
“And instead I feel nothing! I can’t enjoy family movie nights, or playing arcade games, or Christmas!” Crunch.
“How-!,” it almost sounds like a laugh, and then a hushed prayer to no one in particular, “How am I supposed to feel?” His hands stopped moving and chose to settle, palm-side down, on his thighs.
Donatello sat up and lifted his head from its nestled bed within his scarf. He sighed and watched the steam lift from his mouth, faintly reminded of a time where he and his twin would pretend to be dragons as they played make-believe in the snow. He opened his mouth to respond, but found no words. His mind swam with thoughts; Images of his brother alone in a dark space, filled with dread, and just accepting it. How do you move on? Have I moved on?
The silence was palpable when Leonardo’s trembling voice cut through, ragged as a dull hand-held saw through knotted wood. “I think, maybe… I’m a bad person.”
Donnie looked to his twin to see tears flooding his cheeks, crystalizing into ice along the edge as they fell… like the stream. His voice cracked as he finally found the words he was looking for, “You’re not.” His own eyes blurred as he mirrored his brother.
Leo finally met his eyes, jaw left slack as his lungs failed him. Donatello moved his whole body to face his brother, firm hands resting on his shoulders. “You’re. Not.” A quiet sob left Leonardo’s throat as his face crumpled apart like the snow in his desperately clinging hands.
“You’re… You’re not a bad person, ‘Nardo. And… and maybe you’re not supposed to just get over it…” The softshell finds that it’s his turn to laugh, “I’m not over it! There’s absolutely no world in which what happened to us- what happened to you - is just normal or okay!” He shook his head shortly, “No… Leonardo, you owe it to no one- not us, not dad, not the people of New York, not even to a higher being if there is one… You owe it to no one to just… move on.”
He couldn’t control his thoughts anymore as year’s worth of emotion spilled from his tongue. “I- I read about trauma… I mean… I read about it years ago, but I- I recently looked into it again and… Soldiers- they spend the rest of their life struggling. ‘Veterans suffering from PTSD experience intense responses to stimuli, including flashbacks, anxiety, and combative or protective behavior.’ That’s- that’s the first result on google. And us, Leo? We fought a war. Leonardo, you are the exact opposite of a bad person. You are a kid… And you… You were forced to become a hero.” He took a final glance over his twin’s uncertain face, holding a fear and longing meant for a man far past his age, and pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace. “How- How fucked is that?”
The boy cries into Donnie’s neck, anxious fingers worming their way into knots on the back of his jacket, searching for purchase against slippery melted snow. “I-I w-wanna go home…” He somehow managed to tighten his hold even more. “Dee, I just wanna go ho-ome…”
Donatello turned his snout into his brother’s head. He knows what he means. When people experience massive grief or loss, they often revert back to their child-like comforts. He doesn’t want to physically go home… He wants to go back. Donnie presses closed lips against his twin’s skull and whispers, “I know… I know, Leo…”
He waits patiently, remaining steady as his brother lets his emotions escape him. Perhaps it’s not that Leonardo felt nothing. Perhaps it’s that the feelings are too big to confront, and perhaps he’ll never be able to get over them. Perhaps… that’s okay.
—
2025… New Year’s Eve (or Day)...
Donatello approached the North Woods, following footprints to the stream, just like every year. He found his brother sitting by the water, leaning back and staring up at the sky that peeked through spindly branches. Donnie sits to his right and mimics his position. He imagines what the stars may look like above the clouds and light pollution.
“Hey…” “Hi…”
They sit silently for what could’ve been hours, but probably reduced down to minutes. Leonardo nudged his elbow into his twin’s side. “Can I… tell you something?”
“Of course.” He smiled and nudged him back. “Always.”
Leo sat up to look at the water. He lifted a heap of loose snow into his hand and let it flutter through his fingertips into the gentle breeze. “I… I feel better.” He watches as the flakes dance in the wind, following the path of the stream before they settle into the water, melting away slowly. “I mean… It’s still there, y’a know… But I feel… like I’m bigger than it, now.” He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that made any sense, but-”
Donnie shook his head, “No… No, that makes perfect sense.” He sits up as well to see Leo’s face better. “I’m… I’m glad.”
Leonardo scoops up another heap of snow. Donatello watches as he methodically packs it into a ball and smooths the edges before etching a wobbly smile across the surface with his index finger. He even makes a little addition of smirking eyebrows. He shows his creation off proudly to his brother. “Look! It’s you!”
“That thing is hideous. We all know I am far prettier.” Donnie responds in mock offense, pressing a splayed hand against his chest.
Leo scoffs, “Ugh! Fine! Last time I do anything nice for you!”
“And the first.”
“Ex cuse me?!”
Donnie’s smug grin is met with an icy splat of packed snow. “Omf-!” He wipes his face quickly to retort, only to have an armful of snow thrown onto him, shoving him onto his back. “H-Hey! Assh-mph!” He kicks against his brother’s weight, “NNGM, MH HMNF!”
“Sorry! Can’t hear you over you eatething thy words, ‘Tello!!”
Purple-clad arms reach up, taking advantage of Leonardo’s distraction, throwing the slider to the side, along with the mountain of snow. Donatello laughs maniacally, “Eat this, jerk!”
Leonardo kicks Donnie in the shin, drawing an insulted ‘Hey!’ and giving him the chance to escape. “Suck it, Dee!” He giggles childishly and scrambles to his feet, taking off up the shallow bank.
“You little-!” Donatello stumbles after his twin.