F o c u s
If tomorrow can be more terrible than today..
today is better.
If tomorrow is better than today…
today is the worst.
If today and tomorrow are going
to be the same... I am Happy.
~Tina
Keep the light off.
His hands slid down the walls. He couldn't stay upright. He couldn't even hit the fucking walls properly. Pathetic. Pathetic. Useless. Pathetic.
I'm falling apart right now, but no one can ever tell. Ever. They can't. That would be the end of everything.
His legs were wet. Tears. He was crying. No. He couldn't be crying. Crying was always the start. Falling apart. He didn't fall apart. He was in control. He had to be in control. Control was everything. Control was the difference between life and death. Of him. His brothers. Life and death. Control.
The bottle. The needle. The keyboard and the words. The weapon. His staff.
His hands.
Always his hands.
Donatello? You okay? Bro what's going on?
"It's fine…" Gasping. Eyes are wet. Struggling to make out the faces. Patronizing. They see through you. Of course. Who do you think you are? Stupid. Genius. Stupid. Guilt. You have no right. Nothing.
I'd do anything just to know that I was enough. Me. But that's never going to happen, is it?
Leo… Raph. Stop. Stop prying. Just stop. It fucking hurts. So much. You would understand. Of course you would. You've seen so much.
Stop trying to fix my problems. I don't deserve it. It will only hurt you more. I don't want you to. I don't want you to.
I'm a goddamn coward.
Maybe that's why I can't talk.
Steady. Steady.
Don't scream.
Don't cry.
Donatello.
Arms around him, crushing him. Pinning him.
Bitter. Bitter. I want everything back to normal. I want my brothers like they used to be. Not hurt. Not broken. Not my fault. Not making it worse.
Sick. Physically ill. A jolt in his stomach.
Where were you when I needed you?
Focus.
Convulsing. Convulsing and shaking and he just couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop but he could feel Michelangelo, his arms around him. Anchoring him, keeping him there. Keeping him sane. That fragile bit of sanity that he just couldn't seem to latch onto.
Guilt.
Circle.
Just focus.
Fuzzy. Everything was so damn fuzzy. Like he couldn't latch onto anything. Every thought he had just slipped.
Bet your brains real damn fuzzy now? Who'da thunk it. The genius turtle.
And he cried like he hadn't in so fucking long.
Feeling too hard. For what? Why? Why was it so hard to say? Apologies. Bitter.
Perfection.
It doesn't exist.
I'm not going to leave you.
Until he was sobbing dry. His eyes parched and his shoulders heaving in little breaths that he just couldn't stop. Shuddering.
He just took, took, took. He never gave. He gave himself. Sometimes that was too much. Too little.
He just threw it all away.
Every.
Damn.
Time.
Replay. Rewind. Replay. Rewind.
No matter who else leaves you.
Who the hell did he think he was? He was lucky. The shit never happened to him. He had it easy. So goddamn easy. So why was he crying?
Because he couldn't fix it? Because no matter what he did there was always something he missed? Always something he over looked? The snowflake to the avalanche. He always missed it. Staying away did nothing. That would make it worse. But staying. Staying seemed unbearable. So damn unbearable.
He was not allowed to feel like this. He knew nothing about the world.
I won't.
Because Donatello was a selfish dick that didn't deserve his brothers. Didn't deserve them. He didn't have the courage, the energy to keep them. To deserve them.
He slipped.
Wait.
That thought was angsty. He had no right to be angsy.
His mind was fuzzy again.
Carpet burn. Raw fingertips. Working. Working. Take your mind off it. Take your mind off everything.
And his fingers moved faster than he'd even known them too. Faster. Quick quick. Not fast enough. Never fast enough. Bashing. Clumsy. Pathetic. Useless.
I'll stay.
He didn't want to burden him. He was there. All an excuse. Everything was an excuse. Always. Old pains. Old pains had reasons… they seemed okay. They were acceptable. They seeped into the new. Seeped in.
Didn't heal again.
Guilty.
What right do you have? What right to you have? NONE!
If.
No. His voice is cracking, "Mikey…"
His brother hold him, murmuring the words.
You.
Pathetic. Fists clenching. Unclenching. Clenching. No breath. Calm down. Not again. Not now. It's been years. Not now. Not now. Don't give in. The words. Listen. Focus. Hope no one walks in.
You're supposed to be the strong one.
Not the one who never breaks. Who can take the pain. (What pain? You haven't felt anything. You handle it all so well, effortless but you're a coward.)
Not the stubborn one.
The one who never shows. The one who does what has to be done.
The medic.
Just.
He needed to.
Focus.
You have no right.
When things get too much for Donatello, he turns to a brother. And focus is all he really has.
The swearing? OOC moment? Stress.
What did you think?