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Sunday.
Michelangelo accidentally hit his back while playing with his skateboard.
It should have been an unimportant thing, but he insisted on asking his brother to treat him. Donatello knew that he just wanted to pass the time.
If it was the old days, he would have chosen to annoy his other brother--- now asleep and deaf to what was happening outside.
"Ouch! Donnie it's hurt!"
"Come on, I haven't even touched you yet."
In order to shut up his brother's noisy mouth, Donatello gave him with a cupcake and helped him check up.The examination showed that Michelangelo was very healthy and the bump was no big deal, not even a scratch.
"Con't I skop wouk?"His mouth was stuffed with cake,looked very disappointed.
"Mikey, I advise you to sleep now and go to work tomorrow honestly." Donatello skimmed the second floor, snoring loudly behind that door, and he didn't want to go near it for the moment. "You don't want to deal with him at night."
"I hate birthday party." Michelangelo blinked his blue eyes and muttered unhappily.
Monday.
Master Sprinter had the whim to eat the rest of the cheese in the fridge in one sitting,ended up slumped on the couch grunting.
Although father always said that he's old but strong, but in the past two years, he's visibly aging. Since his favourite son left, but also a whole year without news, he gradually even forget about daily training.
Now he just drink tea everyday, as well as sitting in front of TV, watching TV series that can not be finished in 100 years.
Because life has an end, but TV series can be filmed and shown day by day.
"Did Mikey sneak cheese out for you Master?" Donatello rubbed his father's stomach, who groaned louder from the bloating, "I've got a bunch of it stashed away, but you don't eat like you have in the fridge."
"Two pieces, just take two more." The old rat averted his gaze sheepishly, not wanting to admit to his second son that the number had to be multiplied by three at least.
Donatello sighed, not to expose the obvious little lie, took some medicines to feed him.
What a great dutiful son! He squeezed father's shoulders while thinking maliciously in his head.When Michelangelo returned, he won't even have pizza to eat.
Suddenly，a voice came from upstairs, Donatello stopped his hands and looked up.
His third brother yawned and stretched, as if it was his first day back in the sun. Then he watched him come downstairs, rummage in front of the fridge, cursed Mikey for eating all the food again.
"Need call and order pizza now?" Donatello asked.
"No." He muttered,left the door without looking back.
Donatello watched Raphael's figure disappear at the exit and couldn't help but lower his head to ask his father, "Aren't you curious about where he went?"
"Let him go." Sprinter sighed, "He's been so depressed since your brother left."
Of course I know it. Donatello continued to massage while gritting his teeth in his mind.
Shit.
In the middle of the night, Donatello, who had fallen asleep in front of his computer, suddenly woke up without warning, not anyone had woken him up, but simply because he was panicking.
Then he noticed the figure creeping around, trying to sneak back upstairs without making a sound.
Seeing Donatello awake, he let out a chagrined "fuck".
"You back?" Out of courtesy, he was concerned, and it wasn't until by the light of the computer screen that Donatello could see the splotches of blood on his brother's body, "What the hell?!"
"Nothing to do with you." Raphael grunted, "I'm going to bed."
Donatello stares at the closed door of the room.He didn't stick around any longer, mainly because he was afraid of waking the other two. The injury should not be serious, he reassured himself, after all, looking at Raph, he still had the strength to talk back.
In spite of this, he went back to the lab,get the medicine and preparing to add it to Raphael's breakfast.
Tuesday.
Today Michelangelo got into trouble and dusted off the truck that had dented its front end and drove it home. "I put money by the street light." He looked at Donatello's expression helpless and whispered in his own defense, "That kitty was running too fast."
"Idiot." Raphael said coldly at the table,
"Come on, at least we have jobs!" Michelangelo's voice was suddenly shrill, "Only Raph you don't do anything!"
"If I were you two, I'd be get into a hole in the ground." Raphael threw his empty bowl into the sink, "Leaving all that crime in town alone and running out to be a working turtle! Ha, what a laugh!"
"Better than sleeping at home all day!"
"You two stop arguing OK?" Donatello got out from under the car and patted the ash on his hands, "Mikey, you cut the crap."
"Why blame me, it's not like I'm wrong." After Raphael grunted coldly and went out, Michelangelo immediately screamed, "We all know how scatterbrained he usually is!"
"Just think of it as him going through menopause." Donatello couldn't explain the irritation in his heart, "You certainly can't beat him anyway."
Thinking of Raphael's sandbag-sized fist, Michelangelo spat out his tongue and turned to the kitchen to "vent" his frustration with food.
Seems to be back later today. Donatello blew the hot air from the coffee and sat on the sofa to wait. It was not until the family clock chimed two o'clock that he saw the somewhat staggering shadow at the door.
"Can't you just sleep?" Once he saw his fully awake brother, Raphael bristled and proceeded to the bathroom.
Donatello certainly didn't ignore the dark red color of his body and the bruises that were neither light nor heavy to say the least.
"Before you get wet, could I bandage your wound?"
"I said NO." The other party was clearly ungrateful and bent on having his own way, "This blood is not mine."
Well, at least the legs should be checked.
Before he could say that, Raphael slammed the door shut, blocking everything out again.
Fine.Donatello muttered in his mind, I meddled and my good intentions became a donkey's lungs.
Wednesday.
It was a rare day when nothing happened at home, Michelangelo went home for dinner after the little kid's party, and master was holding the TV as usual.
Donatello solving a flurry of customer service calls, tapping the last byte on the keyboard, then couldn't help but feel sleepy. He hadn't slept well for three days and desperately needed a peaceful and quiet sleep.
So he didn't bother to notice what the difficult brother was doing.
Thursday.
"Nightwatcher is so cool!"
Donatello watched as his brother swung around with the newspaper, moving masterfully to dodge with his coffee cup in the air.
In a series of excited cheers, Donatello looked upward again, the closed door of the room still separating the two worlds inside and outside.
When the time comes, I really want to see Mikey's expression, he thought, if he knew that the probability of his old brother is this so-called Nightwatcher, I wonder how shocked he will be.
With that in mind, he took out more rolls of bandages.
"If you don't let me treatment your arm," Donatello stared at Raphael, "you won't be going back inside tonight."
Donatello really doesn't understand how Raphael always manages to make himself look miserable. Just a day without seeing, Raphael's body is full of wounds, and more than one bleeding. Small wounds are fine, but what's disastrous is his arm, twisted into a bizarre angle, obviously fractured.
What's even more annoying is that he's still putting on a dead face, refusing to let Donatello treat his injuries.
"You so idle, why don't you go manage Mik...... hiss!"
"I will call master," Donatello threatened, forcing him hard into the splint, "It takes a hundred days to break a bone, so you just stay home."
Raphael was clearly still indignant, only to shut up under the other man's stern gaze. No matter how rebellious he was, he understood one thing: never confront Donatello when he was angry.
Anyway, his feet are growing on him, and he is at least a ninja.
Friday.
"Tell Raph to come down for dinner."
Michelangelo thumped upstairs, banged for half a day, and then thumped back: "He's not here."
"WHAT?"
Donatello heavily put down the dishes in his hand, there is an impulse to gnash his teeth, but slowed down or raw to hold back. "It's okay, let's eat."
He vowed in his heart that when Raphael came home in the middle of the night, no matter how stubborn and noisy he was, he would talk some sense into him.
But wait right and left, Raphael still did not return.
Donatello's fingers lightly tapped on the table, a small gesture that flows when he is impatient.
It was now almost four o'clock, and he still hadn't seen Raphael. In the past, he might have stayed overnight at Casey's, but he hadn't done so since April was staying with Casey.
For a moment, Donatello actually understood his big brother. Staying up all night waiting for his rebellious brother to come home turned out to be so anxiety-provoking and annoying.
The four o'clock chime came as scheduled, and Donatello finally waited. He got up and walked towards Raphael, who had returned home, and was just about to stop him in the living room when the other staggered and dragged himself back, and before he could say a word, he fell to the floor with a thud.
"Raph?!"
Donatello hurriedly squatted down to help him up, but at that moment smelled a strange fishy odor.
As a male, this smell is all too familiar to him. When he turned on the light in shock, the warm yellow light illuminated the unconscious Raphael, and his ravaged, red and swollen cloaca.
He was covered in semen.
Saturday.
"Donnie." Michelangelo flattened his mouth and tried his best to resist the urge to cry, "Will he get better?"
After that night, Raphael developed a high fever. Despite Donatello's best efforts to clean and treat him, he was still feverish and confused, and his mouth kept talking nonsense. The temperature came down a little, but he was still not out of danger.
Neither his father nor Mikey knew exactly what had happened, and Donatello wasn't going to tell them. Raphael has such a strong sense of pride, if that incident was known, afraid he would kill himself on the spot.
Sprint stroked Raphael's head at the bedside, once when his sons were young and sickness was inevitable, when he had to burrow out of the sewers to find medicine and nurse them until they recovered.
Now Raphael's physical injuries seemed to be healed, but he could feel that something very terrible had happened to his son.
Raphael's mental powers were like a dark, dark vortex, shutting out his father's guidance and healing. Just like when he awoke from his long vegetative state two years ago and then found out his brother had left home.
"He will get better." The rat twitched his whiskers, and in that moment, actually looked much older.
Donatello nodded silently and put the ice pack on Raphael's forehead.
Sunday.
"Leo…"
Donatello's breath hitched, and he was just about to give Raphael a new medication when he heard the dreamy words as he entered the room. Raphael was still awake, muttering the name that hadn't been mentioned for two years.
He looked at the topical medicine in his hand, suddenly laughing in anger, and viciously slammed it to the ground.
"I'm just not as good as him anyway, Aha?" Donatello stared at the unconscious Raphael, his teeth nearly gritted: "I can't do anything fucking better than him,right?"
Now he fully understands.
What fighting crime, what upholding justice, all fucking bullshit!What Raphael wants is just an exciting, exhausting nightlife, so that when he drifts off to sleep, he can no longer dream of the figure that abandoned him and left.
HE loved HIM that way, and HE never had HIM in HIS eyes.
Donatello made a bold decision. In the eyes of his family and friends, he is always calm, at the beck and call, the almighty smart turtle.
But he is not a robot, but also buried in the heart and burst out of the emotions overwhelmed.
Fucking sanity.He completely gave himself up when he leaned in and kissed the mouth that never said anything good, grinding viciously.
When he met the pupils of those golden eyes, Donatello was no shame at all, but stuck his tongue in. Until the tip of the tongue came to be bitten by the pain, he panted to let go of his brother's mouth, unafraid to meet the angry glare.
"I have no interest in taking a shot at a patient." Donatello's voice hoarse as if he was running a high fever,too.
"But after that, it's not up to you."
"Son of a bitch ......"
Rafael cursed in a low voice, and Donatello chose to smile in response. "Don't forget that we are born of the same mother."
"RING…"
The phone, however, rang untimely at that moment. Donatello made a pause gesture, ignored Raphael's razor-sharp gaze, and stared at the caller ID on the screen.
After a while, he picked up the phone: "Hello?"
"Donnie?It's me."
Donatello almost pressed the off button straight away.
Some things are just so damned coincidental, when he could not easily decide to reveal his love for his brother, the love rival came not early not late, just at this time to spoil his good deed.
"Leo?"
The wanderer who has been wandering for two years is finally willing to go home.