#leo implied

"You don't get it," Raph says softly, a rare vulnerability breaking through the tension. "You don't know what it's like to be the family screw-up."

Donnie turns partly on his side towards Raph, fidgeting indecisively with the edges of his blanket. He's so tired. He doesn't know how to have this conversation.

Then stop screwing up, a part of him wants to say, and he wonders when he internalized such a harsh view on life. He knows, at any rate, that his first thought born of months of quiet frustration isn't the right one.

Thankfully, Mikey is there, curled up on the couch instead of in the pile of blankets on the floor.

"Nobody ever said you're a screw-up, dude," he chortles, as if the idea came out of nowhere and has no merit. It probably doesn't. At this late hour, Donnie can't tell.

Raph snorts. "You don't have to say it. I get it. I don't blame you."

Donnie extends a hand, as if they're little kids again and he's going to hold his brother's arm while they fall asleep, just so they both know they're not alone in the dark, that at least one person will still be there in the morning. At the last moment, he remembers he's an adult, and the open hand becomes a pointing finger resting firmly just inches from Raph's plastron.

"You," he slurs, "Are very good at sleeping. You should teach me sometime."

Raph snorts, and when he speaks again it's just a touch lighter than it was.

"I'm not as good at sleeping as you think."

Donnie says nothing, because what he really meant, and they both know it, is that Raph is good at keeping secrets. Any further details or questions about what he does while the others are sleeping would be throwing a lit match in a tank of gasoline.

"You're good at lots of things," Mikey protests. "Like fighting."

Donnie's eyes open wider in alarm. He sees Raph mirroring his expression, and they quickly look away from each other. They know what Mikey meant, that it was a compliment to Raph's skill in the dojo and nothing else.

"Soon," Mikey yawned, "Leo will be back and we can all fight together. Just like old times."

Donnie grimaced. If Mikey had been just a little more awake, he might have reminded him, for his own sake, that old times were never coming back. Or perhaps, if he himself were a little more awake, he wouldn't have.

Soon Mikey is snoring softly, leaving the ghost of old times between his remaining brothers. They used to have fun on nights like this, staying up late talking and watching movies, refusing to retreat to their own rooms, pulling their blankets out to the shared space and finally falling asleep together. Now it feels a bit like a joke, and Donnie can't figure out what they did wrong.

"We don't need Leo," he states firmly.

"I know," Raph snaps, and Donnie's irritation spikes because over the past few months it couldn't be more obvious that Raph does not know. Maybe if he can explain it better he can finally fix this, and they can all feel at home here again.

"We're allowed to miss him without needing him."

Raph sighs, and he sounds as tired as Donnie feels, and even more bitter.

"You need sleep," he says instead of answering. "Step one: close your eyes."

"Mm, too complicated. Do you have a beginner's course?"

"Yeah. Stare at the ceiling thinking about all the ways you screwed up, and hope no one notices."

Donnie rolls over to stare at the ceiling, following directions and giving Raph some vague semblance of privacy. "I don't think you're a screw-up."

Raph is quiet. He's clearly going to let Donnie think he fell asleep.

He doesn't believe him. Maybe if he'd answered quickly and confidently when it first came up, but not now. He can't take back his initial thought, which he's half-convinced Raph could read on his face, even in the dark without directly looking at him.

He screwed up.