A few of you might have seen this one over at Stealthy Stories already. But since it's been ages since I posted something here, I figured I might as well. This
is a pointless (not funny pointless, because it's not supposed to be
funny, but just "pointless" pointless) piece I wrote because the
thought struck me while I was visiting my parents. It's based on my own
experiences to some extent. Disclaimer: Do I have to? I'm not male and I'm not 50+. I'm not
even famous. These things alone should indicate that I don't own the
TMNT, and in case you thought otherwise, I don't even have permission
to borrow them.
He listened for something he knew wouldn't come. It didn't matter, he still wanted it to come. He tried to will himself to hear it. Tried to will himself to not hear. Tried to hear silence.
Putting a pillow over his head didn't work, because he still heard the sounds his brothers made. Michelangelo's television wasn't loud per say, because Master Splinter wouldn't allow it, but it was still loud enough to penetrate the walls of his room. And Donatello probably wasn't even aware that his computer made that humming noise. Raphael was aware that he was snoring, he just refused to admit it. And then there was that purling sound of water from the pipes in his room.
The blue-clad leader tried to shut the sounds out, tried to imagine a damp forest filled with birds and other animals. Tried to hear the sounds of a nighttime jungle. Crickets chirping, nocturnal birds singing, animals prowling around on the ground above his cave. The buzzing of insects in the air above.
The sounds from the outside pulled him back from his inside world, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't see the jungle for his inner eye. Couldn't hear the sounds of it in his head.
It probably didn't help matters that his bed was so soft either. For months he had slept on grass laid out on hard ground. A soft mattress really was just that. Soft. He wasn't used to it. He felt as if he sank down into the flabby material as it yielded far too easily to his weight. He would drown in it, his entire body being swallowed by the thin foam rubber beneath him. He missed his mat of leaves and grass.
He also missed the damp yet fresh air of the jungle. All the smells from different flowers and the soft breezes sometimes finding their way down into his cavern. The air in his room felt stagnant and dry in comparison. And however much he tried to deny it, it did smell a little.
He didn't sense it as much now as he had when he had first gotten home. When he had entered the sewers that day he came back from the jungle, he had been amazed that they had been able to live there. Granted, their lair didn't smell as bad as the rest of the sewers, but it was still astonishing to him.
All of this was contributing to his current problem: He couldn't sleep. No matter how much he tossed and turned, or tried to imagine the jungle for his inner eye, sleep evaded him like a ninja shied from light.
It wasn't the only thing that had bothered him since he got back though. He realized that his family needed him to be their leader and big brother. And he knew he had done the right thing to come home. However, everywhere he went in the lair, one of his brothers was there. And they were always talkative, inquiring and alert. They always wanted to know what he had done while he was gone, what his training had contained or, worst of all, why he hadn't come home.
Of course, that was when the brother in question wasn't Raph in a bad mood. Even if he had calmed down since they helped Winter get his mortality back, there were still times when he would make a comment about Leo's long absence or his position as leader. From there, an argument would normally erupt, and Leo would end up feeling more crowded than he already was.
And if it wasn't one or all of his brothers, it was their sensei, their father. He would enter the room quietly, often just to get something. Leo felt as if he was being watched, as if Master Splinter wanted to make sure he didn't run off again.
He instantly felt bad thinking it. But it felt as wherever he went, there was always someone else there. He didn't have any place to be alone, save for his own room. And his own room felt small and shut. And too quiet. The lair felt crowded and small. Perhaps he had developed a small case of xenophobia down in Central America.
Going outside didn't help matters much either. It was New York City, and it felt great to be back. At the same time, it felt horrible to be back. It was a city, full of dead concrete and blinking lights, overwhelmed with people and drowning in smog from cars and other vehicles. The colors were all dark and dull, in a scale of gray and brown with the occasional colorful sign thrown in for good measure. It was his home, where he had lived all his life. It was where his family and friends lived.
Yet he found himself wishing he was someplace else. Where the very environment around him was alive. Where animals roamed freely and the colors were a lot brighter and happier. In a place less touched by humans, with more space to be alone, to be himself.
He turned again, trying to make himself comfortable on the soft mattress, with the warm cover over him. And then he forced himself to lay still, shut his eyes and once again try to see the jungle.
It didn't work this time either. The sound of the TV being shut off pulled him back to the real world before he even had time to visualize the jungle. Leo knew what would come next, and thus lay still with shut eyes.
True enough, seconds later the door was opened quietly. A small strand of light searched its way through the darkness and fell on the lower end of his bed. It was closed again almost instantly, followed by quiet footsteps making their way towards Mikey's room. Leo could understand his youngest brother's need to make sure he hadn't disappeared. It didn't make him feel less crowded and claustrophobic.
He waited until he was certain his youngest brother had gone to bed before quietly sitting up and making his way out of bed. His two feet touched the carpet by his bed, and with the cover wrapped around him, he slid down on the floor. Lying on the carpet, he tried once again to fall asleep.
Don's computer still hummed and Raph still snored. But at least Leo didn't have to feel himself being devoured by foam rubber. Perhaps, by concentrating enough, he could bring himself to see the colorful jungle and to hear its sounds. And perhaps then he would be able to go to sleep.
Leonardo loved his family deeply. He didn't deny that it had been lonely in the jungle and that he had missed his friends and his family a lot. It felt great to be back with them again. And yet, there were still times when he wished he was back in the large, lonely jungle.