Chapter Text
Donnie gripped the sides of the sink with a desperation one could closely compare to that of a dying man. His mind latched onto the cold of the porcelain, the one thing that rang out clearly through the tidal wave of thoughts in his head.
He felt like he was drowning. He could hardly breathe.
He cracked open his tightly shut eyes to stare at the reflection in his mirror. He felt a sharp lump form in his throat at what looked back.
His eyes were red, blood-shot, holding twin pools of loathing.
He clenched his jaw.
Why did he have to be so weak? All the others are probably ashamed at his childish behavior—he couldn't say he blamed them.
What good was he if not even his shell was strong enough? He really was a poor excuse for a mutant turtle.
Donnie felt his chest squeeze painfully, as if his own windpipe wanted to constrict and get rid of him.
Donnie started opening his sink drawers.
A horrible, stuffy numbness began to take over his entire body. His hands shook as they searched. He needed to feel something—he needed to FEEL—
His hand found cold metal.
He paused for a moment. Not hesitation, no he was past that. This was preparation.
He took the razor from its safe place. He stole it away from where it's hidden for so long.
He had tried to quit once before, but that just made him want to feel more and more and more.
He looked down at it, an odd feeling of calm washed down over him, like always. Anticipation, now.
His entire body felt a chill.
But wait.
What if he went too far? What if he couldn't hide it from his brothers? What if—
Who CARES?
Donnie only wants to feel, he doesn't care what it takes. Not anymore.
He drug the blade over the marred skin of his wrist. Scars already lined his forearm in such fascinating, diverse little rows.
Some have risen while others are darker, more frequent. These are littered about in a hasty flurry, desperation etched into his skin.
It takes only a beat before the line releases small, beautiful beads, which grow and multiply by the second.
Oh how he missed his scarlet pearls.
Donnie wasted no time in adding more and more and more. He just couldn't help himself.
His body now took on a violent kind of calm, his mind relishing in the sting as his blood fought and reached the air.
He just couldn't believe how right it felt. It was his own little secret, hidden away behind his puple sleeves and hoodies.
He felt an overwhelming seize of joy and grief, love and loss. He looked at himself.
He stopped and really looked at himself. It hit him like a fearful criminal, fighting for freedom, for a way out.
He was ashamed.
Ashamed at what he had plummeted to. Ashamed at what he had done. Ashamed for not just going and getting help.
Ice-like fury.
All that would do is prove just how weak he is.
He quickly sliced on last time.
To finish his wheel of long-awaited emotions: regret.
Blood dripped steadily from his ruined arms, cutting through the silence with soft taps as it gathered on the tile below.
A new feeling has been unlocked.
Panic.
Loud, bright, strong—everything came crashing in on him. He needed to stop the bleeding—oh, fuck—
He took a wad of toilet paper and held it to his arm to slow the river down. He dabbed at the pearls viciously—one would think he was a noble with how many fine pearl bracelets he held.
Get ahold of yourself!
Cold, suffacating fear took over—everything was starting to blur.
He scrambled for his first-aid kit, cracking it open with way more force than necessary. He could feel himself start to sway.
He's never gotten to this feeling until now. Black and white dots fluttered in the corners of his vision.
He poured alcohol onto the gaping red wounds and swallowed a cry of agony. Hot fire erupted in his arms. More dots were in his vision now.
He quickly, and tightly, wrapped his arms, sealing the pearls away from view.
He then promptly slumped against the door, his vision going dark.
—————————
RAPH
—————————
Raph hated how quiet it was. He stood outside of Donnie's lab, considering whether or not he should impose on his brothers peace.
He couldn't fully explain why he was here—he had had the loud, maternal urge to go check on the workoholic.
This wasn't uncommon, of course. Raph always peeked in to check on all of his brothers, occasionally even on Splinter. It was just a regular task now.
So why did this time feel any different? Why did he feel so scared?
His hand hovered over the handle.
It was fine, check-ins are daily protocol—nothing about this one will be any different from all the others.
Still...
Raph took a breath, and pushed the door open.
"Donnie?" He called out, glancing around at the blinking lights of monitors and inventions that lined the walls. He took a few cautious steps inside before closing the door. "You in 'ere, Don?"
When he got no response, worry spread through his chest in a lingering ache. He had already checked everywhere else in the lair—so where was his brother?
He carefully made his way through the lab, taking care not to tread on any of his brothers precious creations. He also took note of a few he wanted to ask about—Donnie loved it when he engaged him in conversations concerning his tech.
Raph grinned at the thought of his brothers rare smile.
Raph finally looked up and noticed Donnie's—personally built—bathroom door was shut, light filtering out from the slot in the bottom.
He sighed in relief and knocked on the door patiently. "Donnie?"
There was a figure blocking a bit of the light.
A beat.
Why did Raph feel so scared?
Another beat.
Raph knocked on the door more forcefully now. "Donnie?" He hated how his voice caught as it jumped from his throat with a desperation he didn't understand.
Not yet.
"DONNIE!"
——————————
Donnie
——————————
Donnie's eyes peeled open slowly as he came to. A loud ringing bounced around in his skull before giving way to the actual sounds around him.
Was SHELLDON working on something? He was making an awful lot of sound—wait.
The door that his shell pressed against was shaking violently, threatening to give way. And was that yelling?
Finally, he realized.
Someone was practically beating on the door and frantically calling out his name.
Donnie's heart sank from his chest.
Raph's check-ins.
He quickly pulled on his hoodie and jumped up, swaying at the dizzy spell and wave of pain from moving his arms.
"Uh—just a moment!" He called as he ripped open a cabinet to grab a towel.
He mopped up the small pool where his blood had gathered on the floor.
The beating on the door and yelling ceased.
"Donnie?" Came Raph's voice from the door—but he sounded panicked, "Donatello! I've been callin'—yellin' for fifteen minutes! Did somethin' happen? Are—are ya hurt?"
A beat.
"DONNIE!"
"No, no nothing like that! I just passed out—you know how hard I've been working on my gifts for you guys." He said easily as he gave the bathroom a once-over, before hiding the towel deep in his clothing hamper.
He heard an audible exhale from the other side of the door.
"Please, neva do that again." Raph sounded aged; Donnie felt a sharp pang on guilt.
"Yeah, yeah—apologies for worrying you," He tried to feign an eyeroll behind his words, but immediately felt bad for doing so.
Donnie quickly shoved the razor-blade back into his drawer, and took a glance at himself. He winced at how pale his palor was—and his eyes just wouldn't focus.
He really was weak. He couldn't even handle a few little cuts, how—
"Don...?" Raph's voice cut through the savage thoughts, "Could ya—can I see you?"
When Donnie didn't respond he hastily added: "Sorry—I just—need ta see that yer okay."His voice jabbed into Donnie's cold heart painfully, squeezing it with a ruthless feeling of remorse.
"Of course," Donnie didn't even realize the words had left his mouth until they hung in the air between them. He could feel his heart beating in his cheeks, his head feeling cold and stuffed with fear.
His hand closed around the door handle. Why was his heart pounding? It was just Raph after all.
But what if he knows? He would be so disappointed—oh, Donnie could almost picture his expression if—no, Raph was his kind, caring older brother that wanted nothing more than to check if he was okay.
He opened the door and faced Raph; looking up at the snapping turtle with what he hoped was convincing indifference. Raph's shoulders seemed to sag with relief as he looked over his younger brother.
"Please don't overwork ya'self so much, 'ts not good for you," Raph said in the most mother-hen way possible, which issued a few chuckles from Donnie—they seemed to light Raph up.
"Sure, whatever you say, dad," Donnie scoffed with a grin, "I'll try. What exactly did you need? I've got work to get back to..."
Raph seemed to deflate slightly, all previously earned joy tossed right out the non-existent window. "Oh, uh, are you okay with a—uh—hug, right now? It's perfectly fine if ya aren't, I don' wanna force you into it."
The sincerity in his voice caused yet another painful grip on his heart. He loved how Raph now paid special attention to touching.
Ever since he offhandedly mentioned it in a conversation, Raph has respected his boundaries with such loyalty it made Donnie want to cry.
If he still could.
Donnie took a moment before nodding, "I'm all good right now, thank you for asking—I, I appreciate it." He offered a smile, which was returned ten-fold.
Raph took him into his arms, squeezing experimentally and creating a solid wall of comfort. For them both.
Donnie rested his head against his plastron and returned the hug—if one of their brothers were to walk in, Donnie didn't think he would ever hear the end of it.
"Tighter or looser?" The question Raph always asked during these rare moments. Donnie's heart regained a crumb of hope every time.
God he loved his brother.
"Tighter, please." Donnie said quietly, but just loud enough for Raph to hear, who happily obliged.
Raph held him in the way he would when they were tots, acting as active comfort and reassurance for them both.
Donnie mumbled his gratitude into the embrace. He hardly ever showed this kind of vulnerability these days—besides, who would take him seriously if he was as soft as his shell?
Despite this special moment of safety and protection, he was still met with the sharp sting as his wounds pressed against against Raph's shell.
His arms were pulsing along with his head, which kept trying to wonder off to darker places.
He almost felt loved.
Almost.
"I'm sorry if I was bein' rude earlier, I just couldn't help worryin'—you know how Raph is." Raph said calmly as he rested his head on Donnie's.
"I understand, I'm sorry I scared you." Donnie's voice sounded slightly clearer, "While I hate how much my shell brings concern, I know why and comprehend the fear that aids my existence."
Raph gave a gentle hum and simply took time to savor the sentiment.
This was their time now; a time that others should and could never impose on.
Leo and Mikey didn't have to know about it, it simply wasn't their business—and they recognized and respected this.
Raph finally broke the embrace carefully and grinned at Donnie. "Thank you, Raph feels a lot betta now."
Donnie met his gaze and nodded, grinning a bit despite himself. He held his fist out carefully, which was pleasingly met with a soft bump of Raph's larger fist. Raph seemed energized by the action.
He turned to leave, most likely having decided his visiting time was up. Donnie felt an odd surge of panic.
He didn't want to be alone again.
"Wait—!"
Raph turned back towards him, bewildered. Donnie ignored the shame and embarrassment that bubbled up in his gut as he said his next words:
"Please don't go."
Donnie was growing tired of these uncomfortable, pregnant pauses. They left him on edge, waiting in anticipation.
Raph blinked and took a second to process the words. Donnie had never asked him to stay before. His expression twisted back to worry.
"Okay...are ya sure yer okay? You c'n talk to me, I'm no Doctor Feelings, but I can listen." The way Raph said this while looking at Donnie with such—such love, he could hardly prevent the lump from returning to his throat.
Donnie didn't know how to answer him. He knew he wasn't okay—this was VERY clear. But was he strong enough to admit to it? He had hidden it so long, and so well...
But he couldn't do this forever. One day, something will happen and they will know—the thought terrified him.
But the longer it was kept from them, the worse it will get. If he wanted to release his urges—to feel—he would eventually need to find a safer, healthier option.
If he wanted to live, of course.
He rubbed his arm through his sleeve and hid a wince at the twinge that spread.
"Raph...I-" Donnie struggled for words, feeling nauseous. "Nevermind, it's stupid anyways. You may leave if you want, I apologize."
Raph looked stricken, "What? No, talk to me, please—I can tell it's botherin' you,"
Donnie fought to keep that wreched lump in his throat down. He turned away and tried walking away, probably to disappear into his work again.
In a rush, Raph grabbed his arm to stop him. He didn't even realize what he had done umtil Donnie stopped and very clearly winced.
Raph paused.
"Please let go." Donnie's voice stayed stony and controlled, only betraying a slight shake. He had gone stiff as a board.
Raph, for once, did not. He furrowed his brow and searched Donnie's eyes, the only things that portrayed his pain and fear.
Raph's eyes travelled down to his own hand.
"Raph—"
"... are you hurt?"
Donnie looked horrified, panic spilling into his veins.
"No—let me go!"
Raph fixed him with a look that stopped him in his tracks. He looked so anguished—you would think somebody had died. Raph felt like a small part of him had.
"Please, be honest with me, Don."
"I—" Donnie's voice caught, panic-stricken. His eyes stared at everything else in the room except for his brother—he just couldn't, not now.
It was inevitable now. That he would find out.
Raph's grip softened, and it took a few moments before Donnie realized Raph was shaking. Donnie wanted to disappear, to be swallowed up by the ground.
To be anywhere but here.
"...I've been thinking about this for a while now. I—I just didn't wanna believe it. Please...tell me ya didn't—you wouldn't," The desperation in his voice now tops the voice that had come through his bathroom door.
Raph looked down at Donnie with pleading eyes.
Donnie met them for a second, but his gaze flickered away. He opened his mouth to say something, to hopefully deny it, but promptly shut it back. And tighter.
That was all Raph needed.
Raph pulled him into a tight hug, cradling the soft shell to his chest, enveloping him in his presence.
"Please don't—don't tell the others." Donnie whispered, officially shattering the leaders heart.
"I won't tell a soul. But if you ever feel like doin' it again, come to me immediately." Raphs voice holds the careful authority of a scared—no, terrified adult. "I don't care if I have ta check in more often, damnit, I will make sure you get through this. I love you, Donatello, so, so much. Don't you ever forget that, you hear me?"
Donnie felt the sharp welcome of tears behind his eyes; he nodded against the others chest, shaking like a leaf.
Once released from the embrace, Raph carefully pulled up his sleeves and held his arms oh-so-gently. How could someone show such unfaltering love with just careful touches and bear hugs?
"Why?" Raph asked carefully, "Why did you do it?"
Donnie looked off to his wall of battle shells.
"I wanted to feel something."
"... are you feelin' anything now? Does this help at all?"
Donnie smiled, cracking Raph's heart open with just how defeated he looked.
"Yeah. Yeah, this definitely helps."
Raph looked momentarily eased, now just looking at the soaked-through bandages. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow further, giving him a very thoughtful look.
"Can I ask ya somethin'?"
Donnie bristled slightly but gave a nod. "Shoot."
"Okay, it may be a little personal... but, how did you get to doin' it? Where and when did it start?"
Donnie took a few moments to mull over the some thoughts. He quite vividly remembered how it started.
"Well," He began carefully, "I first heard about it online, mostly from those recovering. I never really considered it until a mission two or three years ago when I had to extract some shrapnel from my arm. I made the cut and... my mind just swallowed me up.
"It had felt so—so liberating. All I really thought about was how it made me feel—how my heart responded to it in a way it hadn't in a long time."
The words hung like a murky fog between them.
"... Did you think—no, did we not love you enough?" Raph sounded desperate, "You were—what, eleven? Twelve? You were younger than Mikey when you—what happened, Don?"
Donnie swallowed down his guilt. "You know I've always struggled fitting in—I never could say the right thing. I was the weak link, Raph. I could never do the things you guys could, because God forbid I get a pillow to the face. Splin—Dad has made that clear for years."
Raph winced at the words. He hated how they were true—how he had to face the reality of Splinter's absense of feelings towards his brother.
He remembered how Donnie's eyes had lost their wonder so soon—it made his blood boil.
"...Remember when I made you that battle shell out of one of my pillows? I wanted you to be able to play, too... I still don't fully understand why he's so harsh towards ya. He... he never really seemed to care, did he?"
Donnie's heart seized as he blinked rapidly for a moment. "I've done wonderfully on my own, anyways. I don't need him—or any adults for that matter."
Raph tried not to think about all the times Donnie had lit up, thinking Splinter, or some other adult, might be finally expressing some past-due affection. He longed for it—he's craved it since childhood.
But he's only ever been met with disappointment.
"Dad doesn't deserve your hard work. He needs to wake up and realize there's one more—and when he does, I will push him away from you and let 'im know what he's done. You deserve love an' 'positive reinforcement from a parent-aged adult'." Raph declared fiercely, startling his brother.
"There's no other adults I'm close-ish to," Donnie said seriously.
Raph thought for a moment, scanning his mind. He could only think of one suitable option.
Himself.
"Then I'll be here." Both seemed surprised by the words. Donnie looked almost nervous.
"—Really?"
"Of course! I'll be by ya side until our dyin' days! Until we're old and you can't stand me anymore, whether you like it or not! I love you, I'll always love you, and I'll always be here to listen—or, or help with a project, or—"
He stopped when he noticed the tears gathering in Donnie's eyes. Donnie, the one that never cried; never showed any sign of true emotion.
Donnie gave a weak laugh and tried swiping the tears away with his sleeve. He seemed just as startled by his reaction as Raph felt; feeling the tears as they fell down his cheeks.
Raph panicked, "Donnie, I—"
"I don't—I don't understand," Donnie breathed, looking at his quivering hands, "It—it shouldn't be your responsibility in the first place! Why—why doesn't he want me? I try—so hard to make things that will make him see me—see me as something other than the 'delicate one'!"
Donnie choked out a sob and frantically scrubbed at the tears on his face.
Raph's heart shattered at the sight.
"Donnie—"
"No! I'm just stating facts—it's always about my god damn shell! Or—or my tech! That's all I am! I'm tired of it—you guys don't have to act like I'm some delicate little egg that will—will shatter the moment I'm left unsupervised!" Donnie shouted, pointing a finger into Raph's chest.
Raph wilted visibly. "Don..."
"Don't 'Don' me! I get it, I'm weaker than you guys, but you could at least have some faith in my ability to keep myself alive!" Donnie continued to rant, venting out feelings that have obviously been held in far too long. "I've only been doing it for fourteen years!"
"How am I s'posed to not worry about you? You aren't weak at all; you never fail to make me proud when it comes to everythin' you do. Your shell doesn't define you—you need to get that out of your brilliant head!" Raph fired back, gently pushing the finger away and taking the youngers head in his hands.
"You're my responsibility, 'means I will always worry about you. But I will never doubt your choices. Well," He cut in quickly, "except one..." He ever-so-carefully used his thumbs to wipe his brothers tears away.
The gesture made Donnie's heart ache.
"I meant what I said. If no adults will love you for who you really are, then damnit I will. I'll be here for you when you have a nightmare and need to cry—or when you just wanna talk to someone about your tech, I'll be here."
Donnie had never felt such a feeling as this before. It was like something warm was emanating from his heart and spreading throughout his body, filling him with a very satisfied feeling.
Acceptance from an older person; the feeling of someone acknowledging your efforts of affection and returning them.
His long, exhausting search for someone to properly validate his feelings had finally come to an end.
"What? You'll be my dad now, or something?" Donnie croaked out, looking drained.
Raph grinned, "If that's what you want or need, I would gladly take the honor." He felt his heart swell with pride, "You're not alone anymore."
Donnie tried responding but promptly burst into tears, letting his walls down. He completely crumbled and sagged with relief as Raph took him into his arms for a record-breaking third time that night.
Raph held him as close as possible, taking his brothers presense into his heart and soul, seeing him in a new, brighter light.
Donnie had never felt more free. His desperate cries had finally been answered in a package that would never disappoint.