Chapter Text
By the time Leo’s name was called, the entire hallway outside the auditorium room was quiet in that way only actors knew-it was too silent to be calm, but too still to be empty. Leo adjusted the strap of his bag on his shell and stepped on the stage.
He didn’t go fast. He never did.
The professors glanced up, eyes flicking briefly on Leo, his shell, his emerald green scales and his red eye bananas. A few years ago, it would’ve scared people. Now it was natural. New York had learnt to coexist, very slowly indeed, but it did so learn after three turtle warriors saved New York from the invasion. Leo was ready to fight, but Auntie would’ve killed him if the invasion hadn’t Mutants, Yokai, Weirdos. Generally, people who didn’t fit into “human” standards. Whispers followed as Leo skimmed the script and the professors looked impatient.
The auditorium was huge. It was different to the ones he was used to in the hidden city. It wasn’t intimidating enough for him to send shivers down his spine, but it was enough to make him second-guess choosing acting as his major.
“Whenever you’re ready Mr Yuichi Leonardo,” Professor Hargreen said, not unkindly.
Leo nodded. Leo was the quiet kid, even though he was confident and popular for his acting. He didn’t take a dramatic stance like he used to with Usagi when they acted out Shakespeare or when sparring. His hands rested loosely at his side, his shoulders relaxed, breath steady. Anyone watching closely would've noticed the way he took with that one breath-the way he let it settle completely before speaking.
When he did start speaking, his voice was quiet, but it was powerful. It wasn't fragile, but honest, as if it were written for him.
“I used to think if I stayed long enough, things would change.” A pause. Not for effect, for thought.
“Turns out staying doesn’t make you brave. Sometimes it just makes you exhausted.” His eyes searched the room for Usagi, who was sitting in the back giving silent encouragements and drilling his eyes into the script because he was next to act.
“So I left. And it was the first decision I ever made that actually felt like mine.” Silence… then clapping. Loud boisterous clapping.
“Thank you Mr Yuichi Leonardo.” Hargreen said, silencing the auditorium. “That’s enough.” Leo nodded again, and stepped off the stage and walked to the back where Usagi was sitting and sat next to him.
“Mr Yuichi Usagi?” Usagi stands up. Leo gives him a thumbs up.
“You’ll do great ‘Sagi!”
”Speak for yourself! You got everyone to stare at you, with no effort. I have to TRY so hard just to make 2 people LOOK at me.”
“Mr. Yuichi Usagi! Are we going to perform or should I fail you?” Professor Hargreen voice boomed across the auditorium.
”Good luck ‘Sagi!” Leo yelled after Usagi, who was jogging towards the stage and he finally stepped on.
——————————
On the other side of the Campus, Michelangelo Hamato was sitting on the floor of the robotics lab, legs crossed, back against a workbench, laptop on his knees. A remote control in his hands. A drone flies across the lab.
“YES!” Mikey screams The drone glitches and falls to the floor.
“FUCK!” Mikey yells.
Raphael sighs, holding a plastic bag, “Mikey! How many times have I told you not to swear! The professors will hear you!”
“Raph!” Mikey squeals. “You’re back! What did you bring?”
“Food, cuz you don’t eat on time!” Raph scolds.
“By the way, where is Donnie?”
“I don’t know? Probably smoking with his friends again.”
“He’s WHAT?!” Raph screams
“Oh you don’t know? I thought you knew. Huh. Anyways before you go, mind helping me fix this?”
Mikey says as he pushes the drone into Raphs hands Raph sighs and sits on the floor while Mikey picks up tools and tweaks the drone.
“Mikey, did Donnie start his project? It’s due today 10th period!” Raph asks
“Oh, um. I don’t think so? He told me in the dorm he’ll start it later. Though I don’t know when later is. Have you finished Raph?”
“Yeah, I finished it last night. It works for sure.”
Mikey hums and yells, “Yes! I finished it! I finally finished it. Now to test itttt out baby!” Mikey turns on the drone with his remote, silently pleading it works.
”What are you guys doing?” Donnie asks leaning on the doorway, while his friends are behind him and he’s holding a cigarette.
“DONNIE! Why the FUCK are you smoking!” Raph yells pointing a finger at him. “You KNOW Pops don’t tolerate this behaviour!”
Donnie’s friends snicker behind him, and his face flushes red. “Ughh! Raph! What is your problem! Why do you care about what Dad thinks? HE’S DEAD RAPHAEL! You know that. Why do you care if I smoke? It doesn’t matter. So just DROP it. It’s my life. My rules. Capishe?”
Before Raph could say anything, Donnie turns on his heel and slammed the door.
The door echoed long after Donnie disappeared down the hallway.
Raph stayed frozen, finger still half-raised, chest tight like he’d been punched from the inside. Mikey slowly lowered the drone, the soft mechanical whirr cutting out as he powered it down.
“…That went great,” Mikey muttered, as the drone flew beside him.
Raph exhaled sharply and rubbed his face with both hands. “I didn’t mean to—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “He knows better.”
Mikey glanced toward the door, then back at Raph. “You know yelling just makes him do it more, right?”
Raph shot him a look. “So what, I’m supposed to just let him screw himself up?”
Mikey shrugged, gentler now. “I dunno. But he’s been… different lately.”
Raph snorted. “He’s always been different.”
“Yeah,” Mikey said, packing away his tools, “but now it’s the ‘won’t come back to the dorm for three days’ kind of different.”
Raph didn’t answer.
Across campus, Donnie stalked through the courtyard, cigarette in his hand while his friends were starting a new one, but that was just a blur around him after his argument with Raph.
My life. My rules.
The words echoed back at him, hollow.
He pulled his jacket tighter and headed toward the engineering wing—not the dorms. Not tonight. His project deadline loomed like a dare rather than a threat. He worked best like this anyway: last minute, fueled by spite and caffeine, brilliance dragged out of chaos.
The lab lights flicked on overhead, bathing steel tables and half-built machines in cold white. Donnie dropped his bag, ran a hand through his hair, and booted up a terminal.
“Let’s see,” he muttered to himself, fingers flying over the keys, “what kind of miracle I can pull out of my ass this time.”
A blueprint bloomed across the screen—unfinished, ambitious, dangerous in the way professors pretended not to love. Donnie smirked.
He always delivered.
Just never the way they wanted.
——————————
Back in the auditorium seats, Leo sat slouched low, one arm draped over the back of the empty chair beside him. The house lights were dimmed just enough that faces blurred together, professors reduced to silhouettes with clipboards and crossed legs. The stage, though, was painfully clear.
Usagi stood center stage.
He didn’t fidget. Didn’t rush. He had that stillness Leo recognized—the kind that came from knowing exactly when to move and when not to. When Usagi spoke, his voice carried easily, filling the space without effort.
“I stayed,” Usagi said, calm but tight around the edges, “because I thought endurance was the same thing as loyalty.”
Leo’s gaze fixed on him automatically.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced down without thinking.
unknown_guy93: u were amazing btw
theatrebro: damn they really let anyone be hot and talented now huh
girlwithbluehair: are you single 👀
Leo exhaled through his nose. His thumb hovered, scrolling through message after message—variations of the same thing. Compliments that slid too easily into possession. Praise that didn’t feel like praise so much as expectation.
Onstage, Usagi paced slowly now, words spilling sharper.
“I told myself leaving would make me selfish. That wanting more meant I wasn’t grateful enough.”
Leo deleted the first DM.
Then the second.
Then the rest, one after another, until the thread emptied and Instagram refreshed like nothing had ever been there. Silence restored. His phone went dark in his palm.
Usagi stopped moving.
The pause wasn’t dramatic. It was uncomfortable. A few people shifted in their seats.
“I was wrong,” Usagi said quietly. “Staying didn’t make me good. It just made me smaller.”
Leo leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
Something about Usagi’s voice blurred after that—not because it lost clarity, but because it hit too close. The words softened at the edges, like sound underwater. Leo caught fragments. Choice. Fear. Breathing again.
He wasn’t thinking about the script anymore. He was watching the way Usagi’s hands curled slightly when the emotion crept up on him. The way his ears angled back just a fraction before he forced them still. The way he held eye contact with the back rows—like he knew Leo was there.
For a second, Leo forgot about auditions. About majors. About being watched.
Usagi finished without flourish. No bow. Just a final line delivered level and steady.
“I didn’t become free when I left,” he said. “I became free when I stopped apologizing for it.”
Silence stretched.
Then the clapping started—like it was measured. Not genuine. Only Leo’s clapping was genuine.
Usagi’s eyes flicked briefly toward the seats.
They met.
Usagi smiled—not wide, not for the room. Just enough.
Leo smiled at his best friend and clapped again and whooped.
“Thank you Mr Yuichi Usagi. It was good. You may go now.”
Usagi got off the stage and bounced to Leo and they sat back while the rest of the class performed, giggling silently at the cringey and bad performances some people were giving.
And life was perfect. Just the two of them. Nothing could go wrong… right?