A/N: I'm back with part 2 of chapter 12!...Don't be mad, but there is part 3 to chapter 12 in the works. I tried to combine the sections, I really did, but each section just seemed like it needed a small break even though its all taking place during the same evening. Bare with me! Oh, and guess what?...FF member Ravenshell was kind enough to beta this section for me, so now you guys don't have to shuffle through my awkward wording and grammatical errors, lol! This section is especially for my Apriltello followers. Enjoy!
Chapter 12 part 2
"April, what's wrong?" She shakes out of my grasp and kneels beside her desk. Her eyes are focused on the clear plastic container on top of it.
"It's the last turtle… I think it's hurt." I relax a little knowing she isn't the one injured, but when she looks up at me with those pleading blue eyes, I waste no time kneeling beside her to get a better look at the baby turtle in question.
Its body is partially exposed, only its head and front legs sticking out of its egg shell. The hatchling doesn't seem to be making any additional efforts to loose itself from the egg completely. If anything, it just looks tired.
"It's probably just resting; hatching from an egg is no easy feat. Some emerge from eggs completely within a few hours, while other turtles may lie in their eggshells several days after breaking them." I thought my explanation would reassure her, but her brows are still slanted with worry. Mikey flops down on the other side of me peering into the container.
"Maybe she just needs a little help," Mikey suggests with his usual over-helpfulness. As he reaches in the container, the turtle immediately pulls itself back inside its crumbling egg shell.
"No, don't," I chastise as I smack Mikey's hand away from the container. "It's best to let it break free on its own, so it can build up its strength."
"She, not it. She's a girl."
"Mikey, there's no way you can possibly know that until it fully hatches."
"I already know she's a girl," he states plainly with a shrug as he continues to watch the hatchling, "And her name is Darla."
"I suppose she told you that, too."
He gives me a strange look as he tilts head. "Of course not. Normal turtles don't talk, duh." I give him a sidelong look just as April pats me on the shoulder.
"Look."
We all stare as the hatchling starts to move from within the cracked egg. Pushing its head through the small shell opening, it looks around curiously before making a small sound that resembles a squeaky door. All of us remain perfectly still and silent, even Mikey, afraid even the slightest movement or sound will cause the small turtle to retreat into its fractured egg again.
The turtle shrills again as it rocks side to side trying to free the rest of its body from the egg shell. This is truly amazing; the intertwining beauty of science and nature bestowed on this tiny hatchling. It's hard to believe my brothers and I all started out this way; following our biological nature to survive and live.
"Something doesn't feel right, Donnie," April whispers to me, the sincere worry never leaving her face as she continues to stare at the struggling turtle.
"Give it some time. It's already more active," I give her an easy smile, before glancing over at the larger plastic container on her desk, where the other five baby turtles are resting comfortably. "It appears to be a little smaller than the others, so it's just working a little harder to break free, that's all." I have no idea what April means by 'feel right', but I don't see anything out of the norm with this hatching process. Sure, it may be a late bloomer compared to the other eggs in the clutch, but—
"Dude, what is that?" Mikey points at the little turtle. I look in the container and see that something is indeed 'not right'.
"It's a yolk sac," I breathe out a disappointed sigh. The runt of a clutch finally managed to escape completely from its egg, but not without the sake of bodily harm. Attached to the hatchling's plastron is a yolk that is nearly the size of its entire body. The yolk sac is not only abnormally large but also bloodied, torn, and darkened with infection. "All turtles are born with yolk sacs. Hatchlings generally live off the nutrients until the sac is absorbed into their plastrons. On rare occasions, a hatchling's yolk sac can become damaged in the hatching process, tearing on a piece of its eggshell."
"The others had yolk sacs, but not this big," April says, looking to me for answers.
"It's possible this turtle is premature, and did not absorb much of its yolk sac before starting to hatch. It would explain why the yolk is still firmly attached to the inside of the eggshell. The yolk is contaminated and will pump bacteria into the body cavity until it…..." The baby turtle chirps pitifully as if understanding and agreement to my synopsis. It tries to crawl toward the side of the container, but doesn't get very far with the infected yolk sac attached to its plastron.
"D, you gotta save her!" Mikey is frantic as he grips my bicep. I forget how sensitive he is about things like this. The biological circle of life and death is always hard for Mikey to accept; all hurt animals could and should be saved according to him. Unfortunately, that's just the way nature works—life and death; survival and extinction.
"Mikey, I don't think—"
"Please, Donnie, there has to be something you can do," she pleads to me in a tone that plays a morose melody on my conscious.
I take a moment to think. "Okay, I'll need to perform an emergency omphalectomy to remove the infected yolk sac." I look on either side of me to make sure both April and Mikey understand. "Even if I manage to successfully remove the contamination, it's highly unlikely the hatchling will survive."
"We still have to try," April says with a fierce determination I feel compelled to follow. I nod once before rattling off my list of necessary supplies.
"Alright, I need rubbing alcohol, thread, a razor blade, a lighter, and gauze."
"On it," April is up and out of the room in seconds.
"Don't worry, Darla. My bro's gonna get you all patched up. You'll be better in no time," Mikey whispers, pressing his finger against the side of the container. The poor thing is on its side, completely off balance by the oversized yolk. It lifts its head slightly at the sight of my brother's finger against the clear container, only to lethargically lower it again.
"Here's everything you asked for; I didn't have any gauze… Will a strip of this t-shirt work?" April kneels beside me again, placing all the items on the desk. I answer her with a nod, and she proceeds to rip the t-shirt into workable pieces of cloth.
Unscrewing the lid, I pour some of the rubbing alcohol over my hands, before dipping the thread in the bottle, "Lay it… lay her on the desk so I can get a better look," I amend my words when Mikey cuts his eyes at me. With the utmost gentleness, April cups the turtle, yolk sac and attached eggshell in her hands and carefully places them on pressed-wood surface of her desk. I wrap the thread once around my fingers to pull it taunt as I inch my hands closer to the sluggish turtle. My wrist twitches. I stop and take a breath, willing the oncoming spasm to stop, "Mikey, burn the tip of the razor with the lighter."
After stalling for a moment, I try again and manage to tie off the infected yolk sac two centimeters away from the base of the plastron. Just as I pull away from the hatchling, the muscle in my right arm contracts with a gripping pain. I clutch it tightly with my opposite hand, biting back a shout of pain at the tip of my tongue.
"Donnie?" April stares at me with immediate concern.
"I'm fine," I grunt between grinding teeth, "I just…. I can't finish it; I need you to do the rest."
"Me?!" Her voice pitches with sudden shock. "But Donnie, I don't… I mean, what if I can't…"
"I'll tell you exactly what to do. It's fine," I assure her as I try to massage the spasm out of my arm. "Take the razor and make a clean cut about a centimeter from the where I tied off the yolk sac. Mike, hold the hatchling still so she won't squirm while April's removing the yolk sac."
Mikey wastes no time, putting a single finger on the side of the turtle. "Alright, Darla, we're almost finished, hang tight." From this side angle, I can see the hatchling's plastron is slightly convex and has a very short tail. I lean in a little closer. There's small anal opening just before the carapacial rim. Huh. What do you know, it is a girl.
With a small snip of the blade bearing down on the cord of yolk, the deed was done. "Nice job, April. Now, just take a piece of cloth and wrap it around the plastron and tie it gently at the carapace; hopefully it will be enough to protect her from further infection." After April wraps up our patient, Mikey places her back in the container.
"What do we do now?" April asks as she stands.
"We wait." I follow suit beside her. "There's nothing else we can do. I tried to save as much of the undamaged part of the yolk sac as possible so she would at least have a some of nutrients to feed from."
"What's wrong?" She gestures to my arm, which I am still firm holding in my grasp.
I shamefully drop my hold even though I can still feel the throbbing sensation of a thousand hammers in my arm. I told April about the growth spurts but never really went into detail about the spasms or their severity.
"He's had a lot of Hashi time." I whip my head around and glare at my bigmouth little brother. "Oh, heh… guess that wasn't the best cover up, huh?" April looks between us curiously, before she can question me, Mikey leaves his perch over Darla's container to join us. "So, now that little Darla is resting, can we please watch Operation Pink Love Gloves?" Even with his annoying knack for being a blabbermouth, I'm thankful for his uncanny skill of smoothly changing the subject in awkward conversations.
April chuckles, "Since you're both in one piece, can I assume it went well?"
"'Well' is an understatement," I boast with the arch of my eye ridge as I retrieve my T-phone from my belt pocket. "The prank was perfect genius! It was—" My face pales with embarrassment at the sound of my noisy stomach as it rudely interrupts me.
"Oh, thanks for the reminder," she chuckles softly as she looks down at my arms which are firmly wrapped around my middle. "I almost forgot about the pizzas in the kitchen! Be right back."
When she leaves the room, I sigh as my arms drop to my side and I flop down in the beanbag chair behind me.
"I know I'm not one to talk, but dude, you just ate!" Mikey states in mild astonishment as he sits cross-legged beside me.
I glare at my brother for stating the obvious, but I know he's right. I shouldn't be this hungry after eating a whole jar of peanut butter, considering I also ate a bag of cheese puffs and a box of leftover pizza gyoza right before the prank went down. I wince and rub my plastron when another pain claws at my stomach. I'm always hungry; it's like a never-ending sensation of starvation. I've never been a big eater, so the amount of food I now eat in one sitting is a bit unsettling. Maybe I should run some tests on my standard metabolic rate….
Before I can give it much thought the smell of garlicky seasoned pizza wafts into the room moments before April enters with two boxes of pizza.
"Dig in, guys," April plops down on the other side of me. She doesn't have to tell me twice. With hands quicker than Mikey's, I flip the pizza box open and nearly drool at the sight of my favorite toppings: chicken, mushrooms, green peppers, and tomatoes. My body is on autopilot as I grab a slice and proceed to cram it into my mouth. I don't even stop when the smoldering cheese burns the roof of my mouth. I barely maneuver the half chewed pizza down my esophagus before I start cramming a second slice in my mouth. I'm so hungry.
Oink, oink, little pig.
Mouth full of pizza, I stop eating when I realize the room is dead silent aside from my occasional grunting from stuffing my face. Mikey stares at me wide-eyed clutching his hands together as if he's scared I'll eat them as well. I painfully swallow the food in my mouth before looking hesitantly at April. I'm not sure if the expression on her face is amazement or fearful shock at the rate at which I just devoured two slices of pizza.
See the way they stare at you? You disgusting freak.
I put the third slice I'm holding back in the pizza box, embarrassed and a little sickened by my own behavior. "Th-thanks, April. It's… um… good. I'm actually pretty full now," I lie as humiliation is evident in my forced chuckle.
April and Mike share a look, before April shrugs her shoulders and grabs the slice I just put down, "Your loss, just means more for Mikey and me, right Mikey?"
They exchange a look before Mikey cracks his trademark winning smile and digs in with gusto, "Yeah, bruh, totally your loss."
Even with their efforts to accept my gluttonous consumption habits, I don't eat any more, much to my stomach's disappointment. Grabbing my T-phone, I tap a few buttons with my thumbs. "April, do you have your laptop handy?"
"Yep." She reaches behind me and pulls her bookbag toward her. Taking out her laptop with one hand, she hands it to me while taking another bite out of her slice of pizza. "Here you go."
"Great." Shifting a bit in the beanbag, I prop the laptop on my bent knees and start typing. After a few more keystrokes, I connect my T-phone to her laptop with a USB- cable. Sliding the pizza boxes to the side, I place the laptop in the center of our little half circle. "And now for your nightly entertainment, Operation Pink Love Gloves, in high definition."
We all huddle around the screen of April's laptop and watch our prank from beginning to end. There were plenty of giggles, chuckles, and outright rolling on the floor laughing between the three of us as we watch my red-clad brother's debasing, but well-deserved, demise. April leans against my shoulder as her body shakes with unfiltered mirth.
"Oh my God, Donnie, I can't believe you guys pulled that off," April says as she wipes tears of laughter from her face.
"Neither can I!" Mikey interjects before jumping to his feet. "The best part was the roach-in-the-box! Did you see his face? Check it out, Matrix style: Waaaahhhheeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaah…." My goofy little brother does his best impression of Raph screaming in slow motion while pinwheeling his arms and making exaggerated facial expressions. He leans backward in a Keanu Reeves fashion, flopping on April's bed, causing it to give a squeaky groan from his added weight.
I frown. He's getting too hyper. He's going to start jumping on the bed if I don't reel him back in from his silly antics.
"Mikey…"
Before I can attempt to tone down his ridiculousness, April gives my knee a squeeze. "He's fine," April says with a whispered giggle. I sigh, but allow myself to relax a little while still keeping my eye on Mikey in case he gets terribly out of hand. He continues to ramble on excitedly about various parts of the prank, cracking April and me up with his impersonations of Raph.
"This is like a blockbuster hit! I gotta watch it again!" He grabs the laptop from April and me, bouncing on the bed once to comfortably lay on his stomach while watching the video footage again.
"So he actually chased you guys around the lair?" April asks turning her attention back to me.
"No, actually he only chased him around the lair." I jut my chin out toward my brother. "You know Mikey, ever the showman." She chuckles, nodding in agreement.
"So how exactly do you plan to sneak back into the lair without Raph clobbering you guys?"
"With all the commotion Raph and Mikey caused before we left, I'm pretty sure Sensei gave Raph an earful this evening, so he won't risk causing a ruckus while Sensei is asleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, is another story. Mikey and I will have to cross that bridge when it comes." I really should have thought the after-effects of this prank through a little better. Being around Mikey so much is making me a little more spontaneous than I'd like to be.
"So what's this I hear about you getting the Hashi?" April says with a raised brow and a smirk. "I thought that punishment was only reserved for the truly treacherous of deeds." She's only teasing, but the thought of the Hashi still makes me shudder with anger at the unfairness of it all.
"It's… nothing. Master Splinter and I just aren't seeing eye to eye on some things." A small pout crosses her lips as she tilts her head inquiringly to the side. She's about to pry again, but quickly stops as the sound of a short circuiting buzz saw fills her room.
We both turn toward her bed to find Mikey asleep on his plastron. The streaming video is still playing on the laptop, but Mikey's head is turned to the side propped under one arm while the other arm dangles carelessly off the edge of the bed.
"Well, that was fast," April smiles with amused sarcasm.
"Yeah, he really put his brain in overdrive with this prank. We've been at this for weeks. He's not used to burning the midnight oil like that unless he's trying to beat a high score on one of his video games." Of course I'm joking, but I'm actually rather proud of him. The amount of focus he unknowingly put into learning physics and basic mechanics was quite impressive. It catches my attention when Mikey's mouth starts moving in a chewing motion in his sleep. I roll my eyes with a sigh as I push off the beanbag and walk over to April's bed. I jab my brother's puffy cheeks a few times and he starts chewing again. The goofball fell asleep with food in his mouth. When he instinctually swallows and opens his mouth to snore again, I take a peek inside and feel better knowing his mouth is clear of additional food. I huff as I shake my head. April stifles a giggle, mimicking my head shake.
"It's sweet how you take time with him; I know he's not the easiest brother to have patience with," April says softly as I take my spot again, relaxing into the beanbag. She nestles beside me, resting her head against my shoulder. "But you have to admit he has this adorable little brother vibe going on."
I turn to give her an incredulous look. "You want him? Keep him for a day and see if he's still adorable. I guarantee you'll return him within two hours, and that's being lenient."
"Oh, stop it, he's not that bad," she says swatting me playfully on the arm. "Still, it must be nice to have brothers. I wish I had brothers when I was growing up."
Brothers. Sometimes it feels more like Leo, Raph, and Mikey are brothers and I'm just ….
A black sheep? A misfit? A Freak?...
Well, I've always been closest to Mikey, so maybe that's not entirely true.
You think because you helped him with his silly little prank, he suddenly sees you as a brother? As something more than the things you fix? The things you create? You really are dumber than you look.
I start thinking about my worth and what I actually mean to my family; if I really mean anything to them at all. A giggle at my side pulls me from my thoughts.
"There's something I never noticed about you."
I shake my head briskly at April's harmonic voice. "Huh?" Her statement throws me off guard. "Like what?"
"Like the way you put your tongue between your gap and make that face when you're thinking."
My cheeks and mouth pinch together in a curious expression. "What face?"
She looks at me smirking. "No, not that face; you know, the face."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I deadpan a response while shaking my head slowly from side to side.
"You know, when you do this…" She props her hand under her chin thoughtfully as she distorts her face to look like she's sucking a lemon while smirking.
Her expression is too goofy; I laugh so hard I snort. I do my best to cover my mouth with my hand to prevent any additional snorts from escaping my nasal cavity.
"No, don't do that!" She gently removes my hand from my face and cups it between her own. "I love to hear you laugh."
"Well, my Urkel-like laugh can be classified as lame, dorky, and less not forget the ever popular nerdy, so I suppose it does make for a good comic relief." I give a diminishing smile at my own expense.
"Stop doing that."
"Stop doing what?"
"Saying deprecating things about yourself. None of it is true."
I look down at her as she crosses her arms over of her stomach. Her brows furrow in a stubborn expression of hurt.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I just thought…"
"I was making fun of you?"
"It's not a big deal if you were, I get it. It's funny."
Make fun of the nerdy little turtle freak, because he's always available for a good laugh.
"No, you don't get it, and it is a big deal." She twists away from my shoulder to purposely narrow her eyes at me, making me shrink away from her intimidating feminine glare. "Stop putting yourself down; I hate when you do that."
"Sorry, I guess it's just second nature." Her glare hardens at my self-jab, "…sorry," I amend with a sheepish smile.
"I wasn't making fun of you, Donnie. I would never make fun of you like that." Once she makes this point her eyes soften and a small smile touches her lips. "I love your laugh because I get a chance to really see you, the real you, even if it is just for a moment. You should laugh more."
"Yeah… okay, I'll work on that." I'm uncertain what she means by the 'real me'. She sees me all the time—at the lair, in my lab, when we train, on missions…. it doesn't get any realer than that. "We should probably check on the hatchling, or Darla, as Mikey so fondly named her." I change the subject out of necessity and also to quell the light fluttering in my stomach. Shifting off the beanbag chair, I shuffle on my knees toward her desk. I sigh as I look inside the container. Little Darla's glossy eyes are nearly lifeless as she lies on her side. The only sign of life is the little puffs of breath she is still managing to take into her underdeveloped body. I tried to warn them; I knew this would happen.
"Oh, no…" April gasps on her knees beside me. "I thought we had at least given her a fighting chance. I probably cut too much of the yolk sac off, or—"
"No. There's nothing you could have done differently. The odds were stacked against her the moment she hatched. It's not your fault." I give her shoulder a squeeze, searching my brain for something comforting to say. "When you think about it from a biological standpoint, our bodies all start dying the moment we're born."
"Wow, Donnie, that's pretty morbid…."
"It's not morbid, it's just life. Death is inevitable. Some organisms just reach it a little faster than others." I'm not trying to be morbid, just logical. How else does one make sense of death?
"She's not…. she hasn't passed yet, Donnie." I can see the hopefulness in her blue eyes, but I won't be cruel and let her entertain such a thought.
"No she hasn't, but she will…. in a couple minutes at most."
April doesn't seem to be paying me much attention as she focuses all her attention on the pitiful turtle in the container. She gently strokes the carapace with a fingertip, "Poor thing. She's scared. It's okay Darla, Donnie and I are right here. Closing her eyes, Darla breathes out a final whine that we otherwise would not have heard if we weren't in such close proximity. "She's gone."
April leans against me and I, in turn, hesitantly drape my arm over her petite shoulders, trying to awkwardly offer some form of comfort. April is a lot more upset about this than she should be. Don't get me wrong, I don't necessarily like to see animals die, but it happens whether by sickness, a hit and run accident, or a simple survival of the fittest as in the case with Darla.
I don't hesitate to position myself against Donnie's side as he drapes a comforting arm over my shoulders. This is so weird. I love animals, but I've never been this torn apart over the passing of one. Its times like this when I hate my abilities for making me look so weak. If I can't tune out the fuzzy feelings of a baby turtle, how the heck am I supposed to handle life-changing emotions that take place around me on a daily basis? As Donnie squeezes me in a half hug, I close my eyes and take slow breath in and out like Master Splinter showed me, clearing my mind of the residual emotions of bereavement.
"She was terrified and hurting so badly…. I could feel it," I whisper at his side as I tuck my bangs behind my ear.
"Hmm… it's possible your abilities give you a heightened sense of smell allowing you to pick up on the hormonal scent animals give off when in distress or near death situations. Some biologists describe it as—"
"It's not a smell, Donnie!" I twist out of his shoulder hug, to look up at him, "I can sense it, like they were my own emotions."
I can't help but feel a little hurt by his doubtful expression. "Sometimes people associate smells with certain memories or thoughts, so it's possible you simply associated the smell with a depressing memory."
I want to be angry with him for labeling my feelings, my ability, as a trivial biological process, but I can't. I can't be angry because I know he's not trying to belittle the way I feel, he's just trying to make sense of it the only way he knows how.
Tilting my head, I stare into his eyes and search. I search for something, anything, beyond the veil of logic and intellect, but he hides it so well.
I give up my emotional search with a wistful smile and sigh, "Some things aren't as simple as biological psychology." He stares at me like I just told him Thomas Edison didn't invent the light bulb. "Sometimes, I just wish you understood."
He seems puzzled by my words. "Understood what?"
"…Never mind, it doesn't matter." I give him a tight-lipped grin and look down at my lap. I shouldn't have said anything.
"Of course it matters. Everything you say matters to me."
I'm both shocked and touched by his words. He's not usually this open with me. I look up at him again, but say nothing. I just stare at him like a doe in headlights.
Did I just say that? ...that was meant to be thought, not spoken out loud. My unintentional words give her pause as she looks up at me with something akin to awe glistening in her eyes. "I…I…I mean the important things matter…. not to say that you don't say anything important, because you do all the time…. not that you talk all the time, because you don't and—"
"Donnie." The way she breathes my name is the only thing that keeps my lips from digging a deeper hole of stupidity. I clamp my mouth shut as heat rushes to my cheeks and I suddenly find my sweaty hands interesting as I look down at my lap. She's going to let me down gently, tell me to get over this ridiculous infatuation. The anxiety, disappointment, the foreseeable hurt and rejection, I push all of it down, all the way down until I am positive I will feel nothing; until I'm sure I will be able to keep a blank expression no matter how she decides to reject me.
"I wish you understood how I feel…. about you."
I knew it. I really should have saw this coming.
Are you really that dumb to think you had an inkling of a chance with her?
I was stupid to think our late night instant messages and texts meant anything more than what they were. Stupid. She shifts awkwardly on her knees rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, looking anywhere but my face. I should just save her the trouble, make it easier for her.
"It's…. its okay, April, I do understand. I know we're just… friends. I get it. It was absurd of me to think differently…. I know you and Casey…"
"No," she cuts me off, shaking her head firmly, "I don't feel the same way about Casey like I do about you." Her small hands reach out to rest on top of my larger ones. There's a small tremor in my fingers, but this time it's not from a growing pain, this time it's from a warm place in the center of my chest that I'm trying so hard to ignore right now.
"Donnie, you're my best friend; you mean so much to me," it was then I noticed that it wasn't my hands trembling, but hers.
God, what am I doing? ...Oh, that's right, I'm making a complete fool of myself as usual. Why did I have to open my big mouth?
I can't stop my hands from trembling on top of his. He doesn't understand… he thinks he does, but he doesn't…. not really. If I could just sense a flicker of his feelings, feel a small ting of the emotions he guards so closely, I would know for sure if I should risk exposing my heart to him.
I close my eyes and try again. I feel nothing; just a blank callous slate where an array of emotions should be.
I remove my hands from his and pat my thighs with a sudden decisiveness. It's now or never; put up or shut up, O'Neil. I lower my head and close my eyes, "Donatello, I love being with you, I love everything about you…. I really like you." I finally look at him after uttering those words in the truest and most sincerest way I know how. I'm putting my heart in his hands for him to cherish or crush with his next choice of words.
"…I…well…." He's fumbling in his obvious discomfort. Just when I think I may have ruined our friendship beyond repair, something brushes against my psyche. It's gentle and sweet, with a rare emotional innocence that's so skittish, I'm don't want to mentally touch it, afraid it will suddenly disappear. It's a shy and curious sentiment of kindness, compassion, and other loving things I immediately associate with Donatello. His noticeable discomfort pains me as I feel his fear snatch those beautiful emotions away from me; he doesn't even realize how intimately his distinct feelings have touched my soul as he tries to hide them away again.
I have the proof I need. If only for a fleeting moment, I felt the purity of his love reach out to me. "I know you feel the same way… Why can't you just tell me?" I'm stepping out on blind faith and trusting him with my heart… why can't he do the same for me?
I reach for his hands again, but he stiffens and slowly pulls them away, refusing to look at me. I'm losing him before I even get a chance to have him. I have to do something quick.
I try desperately to get my tongue to cooperate, to actually form words instead of making unintelligent sounds. Eventually, I give up and sit there dumbly, unable to articulate the things I want to say to the sweet girl in front of me.
You're beautiful, smart, fierce—all the things that make me love you so much. That's what I want to say, what I long to tell her, but my lips refuse to do anything more than stutter.
What does it matter if I say it or not? Don't actions speak louder than words? I'm always there when she needs me, whether it's helping with homework or fixing the motherboard of her laptop. I even keep her company with instant messages when she has a restless night. In the past year, I have protected her life countless times with my own from Purple Dragons and Kraang aliens without a second thought. Isn't that enough? Yes, logically it makes sense, so it must be enough.
The things she said about loving me... Did she really mean them? A warm sensation balloons in the pit of my stomach, spreading to my chest, moving upward, bringing a fierce rush of heat to my cheeks before settling in my head with an intoxicating yet welcoming buoyancy.
How else can I possibly show her…. tell her that….
Tell her what? That you love her? Silly turtle, so naïve to think a human girl could love something like you.
"Why are you so afraid?" Leaning into my personal space, she whispers like she's talking to a scared animal, but the concern in her voice is enough to pull me away from my unpleasant thoughts. It's funny how a few minutes ago her close proximity was a comfort, but now it's threatening to be the very undoing of everything that makes sense in my life.
There has to be a logical way out of this situation, but my brain isn't cooperating. Something else kicks in instead; an instinctual need to flee. "I'm not… I mean, I should go—" I make a motion to get up, but I'm quickly planted back in place when a pair of lips press against mine. I immediately freeze at the intimate contact as my eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. Her eyes are closed, her face passionate and serene.
I don't move, blink, or breathe as she holds the kiss softly against my lips. Time stands still, or maybe it's moving at the speed of light… I'm too dazed to care as I slowly close my eyes and allow myself to melt into the kiss. Her lips depart from mine with the sound of a small 'peck'. A slight chill replaces the warmth of where her lips were, but when I suck my bottom lip I can taste remnants of her strawberry-flavored chapstick. My brothers and I always get sisterly hugs and kisses from April, but that was not a sisterly kiss. I selfishly wish it had lasted more than 45.3 seconds.
Then I do something in which I have no logic to justify. I kiss her back.
Just when I think my impulsive actions will make him flee like a bat out of hell, he takes me completely by surprise when his hands gently hold my shoulders and he pulls me in for a second kiss. I barely have a chance to gasp as his lips gently collide with mine. His touch is tender, as if he's scared anything more forceful will shatter me like glass.
His emotions almost drown my psyche as they flood me with his anxiety, joy, and overflowing affection. I can't help but lean slowly into the kiss, cherishing the moment. With a bit of awkward hesitation he pulls away, making me breathe out an airy sigh. His breath is both garlicky and nutty; the thought of that quirky combination makes me smile.
I blink lazily through distracted eyes, still in a haze from that incredible kiss.
"I'm sorry." It doesn't take long for his self-consciousness to rear its ugly head and try to ruin the moment.
I shake my head with a frown. "Don't be. You just made this the best night ever."
"Same here." And then he gives me that adorable lopsided smile that makes me feel all kinds of special. What really brings a smile to my face are the impressions I still sense from him. When we kissed his emotions washed over me like a tidal wave, but now they simply ripple calmly at a distance, occasionally lapping against my inner thoughts. No walls or protective guards up, just Donnie in all of his goodness.
"Why are you guys staring at each other like that?"
Both of us jump a mile high, falling backwards on our behinds at the sound of Mikey's voice.
"Mikey! ...What… how long have you been awake?" Donnie squawks in his trademark voice of panic.
"Not long enough, 'cause I get the uncanny feeling I missed something epic, bruh." Mikey looks suspiciously between Donnie and me. I tuck my hair behind my ear and look down when I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. He gives an exaggerated gasp. "I did miss something epic, didn't I?" He's smiling like a Cheshire cat now, "Did Darla make a full recovery? I knew she'd be okay!"
My head snaps up at the same Donnie's does as we share a look of regret and sadness. Mikey's fast as he hops off my bed and zips behind Donnie to peer over the container.
"Mikey, no, don't—" Donnie tries to grab him, but he's too late. Mikey's countenance of joy immediately crumbles into deep sadness that should never be found on his sweet freckled face.
"Darla?..." His voice is small and filled with disbelief. "I thought she was going to be okay!" He looks at Donnie with watery eyes in a way that I suppose all little brothers look to big brothers when they need answers.
"Mikey, I told you it was highly unlikely she would survive." Donnie is to the point with him, but not unkind. "There's no telling how long her yolk sac was infected while she was cocooned in her eggshell. I'm surprised she lived as long as she did."
"It's okay, Mikey. Donnie and I were right here the whole time."
He sucks in his bottom lip taking in both our words and seems to accept them somewhat. "That's good… at least she wasn't alone."
Standing, Donnie and I sandwich Mikey between us. We all look down at little Darla, giving a small moment of silence.
"I'll take her to the park tomorrow and bury her near the pond."
"Really?" I nod at Mikey as his eyes twinkle with an innocence that seems far younger than his sixteen years of age.
"We should get going," Donnie says and I can't help but pout. I wish he could stay longer.
"Okay. Text me?"
"Yeah, of… of course." I return his warm smile. Mikey's halfway out the window, but before Donnie can follow, I take his hand in mine looking up to meet his mahogany eyes. He's gotten so tall. I tug his arm slightly while standing on the tips of my toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. A blush hits his olive cheeks like circles of red paint on a canvas. "Bye," he says softly as I release his hand.
"Bye." I wince as his head makes contact with the window pane when he forgets to duck. I cover my mouth to hide the smile ignited by his clumsiness.
"Heh... bye," he says awkwardly, again, before disappearing on the fire escape. I lean out the window, hoping to catch one more glimpse of his slender physique, but he's already melted into the shadows of the night, just like Master Splinter trained him to do. I return to Darla's container, wrapping her gently in the remaining strips of cloth from my old t-shirt. This evening was Darla's tragic birth and death, but even in this little blot of sadness, something else was born tonight. Something amazing and new that I hope will blossom into something remarkably beautiful.
TBC
I really hope you guys enjoyed this sections. So what do you think Apriltello fans? Did I do them any justice? Chapter 12 part 3 is coming up soon and things are about to get interesting! Here's a small spoiler to tie you over:
He screams in agony clawing at the ground, trying desperately to escape my iron grip. With a firm yank, I twist him from his stomach onto his back. I purposely place my foot on his broken leg and grind it into the ground. I wince. His screams irritate me.
"Puh-please, please, let me go," the boy whimpers through hiccuped tears, "I'm sorry! I wanna go home! Please just let me—"
Make him bleed.
TBC...