Week Two

"Ugh, Mikey, that lasagna is to die for. It smells like heaven's gates just opened up and the choir's singin' my number."

"Back up, back up, back up! No drooling on the main course! I have to check on the garlic knots —no taste testing! Go wait over there!"

With a groan that could shake the earth's core, Leo shambled to the other end of the chopping block and dumped himself onto a stool. To be starving was one thing, but to have temptation staring him in the face was punishment.

Mikey was so particular about kitchen etiquette. Sure, it carried charm into his cooking, but it required suffering as well. The suffering of his patrons. Apparently, it made everything taste better.

"Relax Leo," Raphael muttered, "If you burn the roof of your mouth, you won't even be able to taste it. And we've been through this more than enough times to know how that plays out."

"Uhuh. The only reason you aren't complaining is because you downed a bag of chips earlier."

Eyes clicking over to the largest brother, Michelangelo squinted roughly,

"…You spoiled yourself before dinner?"

"N-No! Mikey, I just —that was like two hours ago!"

"OW!"

Brows flattened at the pain pulsing through his arm, Leo pouted sourly, scooting his chair away from Raphael and catching the shadow that had aimlessly wandered into the room, stealth mode barely activated, but in a circus of entertainment, he would've surely been missed.

"Well, look who decided to show up."

Pulling the tray from the oven, Mikey glanced up with a grin, setting the hot item on top of the closest trivet to cool off on. "Everybody's gotta eat. Even the hermits." he chuckled, coating the knots with an additional butter glaze, adding a dash of basil on top.

But glued to his phone Donatello remained, void of expression or interest in the world around him, or those who paid him any mind. He simply leaned against the counter, thumb scrolling, up and down. Up and down.

"Hey. Donnie. Earth to Donnie? Come in, Donald!"

The royal clad teen's eyes blinked up, somewhat foggy minded,

"Sorry, what?"

Arching a brow, Raphael smiled softly, waving Leo away, "Hey, I appreciate you takin' the hint and keepin' things quiet. You finally soundproof your room?"

"Oh. Uh, no."

The conversation seemed to hit a wall as he ducked back into his phone, his brows falling heavily.

Resting forward on his arms, Raph tilted his head,

"You okay?"

His question fell on deaf ears.

"Not healthy." Leo mouthed, treading a finger toward the lasagna before it was met with a swat from the spatula.

Rubbing along his head, Raphael had to agree, though when it came to Donatello, it took careful effort to persuade him otherwise. He liked to think he was the highest intellectual of the four, which odds were, he was, but with that came an air of superiority that occasionally needed to be cut down to size.

Getting advice was one thing. Getting advice from Raphael was another. But the red clad teen took no offense to this, brushing it off as simple brotherly conduct.

Strength and heart were two things the largest brother handled quite well.

Donnie tended to distance himself from such concepts, but just because he ignored them didn't mean he couldn't access them. Raphael was a firm believer in bringing out the best in his brothers, especially when they denied it even existed, or were falling wayward.

"Hey, Don, you know you missed training right? Like four times in a row?"

"I'll make it up."

Glancing at the largest with a sour mug, Leo propped his cheek into his palm, "When's the last time you went outside?"

"Few days ago."

Setting the basting brush onto a small dish, Mikey grabbed a clean plate and began sectioning off the lasagna portions,

"Well, I know you an' April are tight, but leave some friendship for the rest of us. I haven't heard a peep from her since you two started preppin' for that tournament." he muttered, and the room fell suspiciously quiet as the eldest brothers realized there was truth to his words.

It wasn't unusual for the girl to drop by unannounced whenever she could, as often as she could, whether they were around or not. She had become as familiar as any of them in their unique home, and her lack of presence had left a strange depression in the many hallways of their sewer.

But it was only at this accusation that Donatello finally looked up, crossing his arms within the disscontempt he had shelved, "She hasn't been online. She has a science project due in a couple of weeks. Evidently, it's a big part of her grade."

"And you're not hijacking it over like its your own baby?" Leo muttered doubtfully, but found the darkness looming in his brother's eyes somewhat unsettling.

"No. That would be Raúl."

The silent confusion had even paused the plop of lasagna.

Squinting curiously, Mikey knit his brows,

"Who's Raúl?"

"That would be her project partner," Donnie muttered, growing lost in his phone once more, "Apparently, he's a meticulous worker and detail oriented and knows exactly what he's doing, so I am respecting April's wishes and withholding my opinions, suggestions, and overall analyses until further notice because the faster this stupid project is over with, the faster we can get back to practicing for the tourna—this project should've been done already."

Swiping his plate as soon as served, Leo snagged a garlic knot and propped his cheek with a full faced smirk,

"Sounds like somebody's jellin—"

"Insufficiency is just the tip of the iceberg, Leon. Two weeks and not one complaint about work or school? MIA lately? She's barely kept a—"

"I'm sure April's just busy with gettin' the project done. She prolly wants to get a good grade on it." Raphael noted casually as Mikey served him next. Shoulders falling into a less offensive set, Donatello tapped a finger along his arm, voice growing quiet in thought,

"Well…she did say her mom would end the online subscription if she didn't pass…"

Plopping a fresh slice onto the third plate, Mikey smiled, "Aw, see? You're gettin' all worked up over nuthin'. April's just tryin' to catch that solid A so you guys can keep gaming. Give her a little credit; you can't solve all her problems, D."

The thoughtfulness that had crossed his eyes staled over into a heavy browed frown,

"…I'm not trying to solve all her problems. As a friend, I'm simply stipulating the red flags—"

"That you've been replaced?—OW!"

Sour mug glancing toward the tray, Donatello shook himself from his muscle lock and grabbed a garlic knot, bypassing Mikey's serving,

"I have a tournament to prep for."

Shoving the bread into his mouth, his attention fell fully on his phone once more, slipping out into the shadows of the hall. His brothers' voices echoed along the cool bricks, following him as he ignored their antics, thumb scrolling up and down. Up and down.

"—What is wrong with you? You know Donnie's sensitive about that stuff—"

"—oh, so we're not doing the honest thing now?"

"—didn't even grab a plate…"

Up and down.

It just…didn't make sense.

And when things didn't make sense, Donnie grew frustrated. Everything had rhyme and reason to it. That was the beauty of the sciences. Every cause had an effect, every action, a reaction. It was a beautiful dance of life —a tango of sense and logic, where everything had a place and every new discovery was something to be treasured.

But as much as he wanted to explain in clear and concise detail to his brothers, he simply couldn't find the proper words to state his level of confusion. He was Donatello, tech wiz and inventor extraordinaire. He was expected to have all the answers.

So, what could he possibly say that would make them understand?

That April had grown…distant?

That her playful texts had grown…stagnant?

That she had barely responded to his casual updates with barely a read text?

He had been careful to keep his prying mind away from her project, and allowed them to work in peace. He had given his word, and though it tortured him to contain his curiosity, he had done a decent job in the past two weeks. But as the days had gone on, her texts had become thinner and thinner…falling into the awkward category of dead end conversation.

Maybe he had been spoiled with their nightly gaming, but he was only mortal. He would latch onto any bit of normalcy he could if it offered him the peace he so enjoyed. And he often enjoyed it when she was around, teasing or backing him up or simply validating him.

Perhaps it had been selfish of him to have become so dependent on such things.

The door slid shut behind him as he slumped into his seat, staring quietly at the screen of his phone. His thumb had ceased its relentless obsession. Nothing had changed…and nothing was going to.

'hope everythings alright. sleep well, alias.'

Sent three days ago.

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