#turtlebrainrot

Partners were selected by surname. The professor went down the roster while roving leisurely around the lecture hall at the same time. They came to a stop at the left side of the table where you were seated, looking at them expectantly. "You're withhhh— oh." The professor's tone was still laced with boredom but a hint of bewilderment seemed to weasel its way in. A few mutters left their parted lips. "...only one left? I'm sure I called of you..." their last string of words found your ear.

After more awkward silence from the class and professor, their eyes lit up. "Ah, I missed one. You." They call, swiveling at 180 degrees to lock eyes with someone else. A messy tuft of brown hair pulled into a low-ponytail shifted a bit in your field of vision. Then a pair of squared glasses and brown, doe eyes followed. "Ohnn. You're with them, alright? Alright." The professor then simply walks back to their desk at the front of the hall just as the intercom goes off, signifying the end of the class. Students exchange numbers, emails, socials — while you watch your own partner from afar.

You knew it'd be courteous to get up on your own two feet and go introduce yourself. But you waited to see if the guy'd come to you.

He didn't.

Ohnn sat there, head practically buried in his notes. You wouldn't be surprised if he was actually making out with that damn paper. But it was clear he wouldn't come to greet you any time soon. So with a twinge of exasperation, you huff — pushing yourself up from your seat — and walk over to the table in the third row while leaning your palms against its smooth oak wood.

"Hey." You spoke up. He nearly flew with the way he jumped back in surprise. Jesus, he's tense.

His brown eyes seem to almost bulge out of his head as he eyes you with shock, glasses slipping down the bridge of his straight nose unnoticeably. Despite the initial shock of his flinch, he attempted to gather a few words. Though he stumbled over his own tongue, "Wh- I — d-did you....need something?" Ohnn murmurs. It's like he wasn't used to being acknowledged or something. You let a smile fall upon your lips and stifle a chuckle, "Looks like we're partners, Ohnn."

The look on the guy's face voiced pure confusion but he did not protest. He was quiet again before shutting his college-rule notebook, "Looks like it..." he uttered feebly while seeming to give you a once-over. Johnathon could feel your eyes studying him as well in the silence and he hated it. He hadn't really been paying all that much attention during the lecture, so he unfortunately gained a partner who he hardly knew. As if he knew anyone other than his own family in the first place. The young man stood from his seat and that was when you could read him more clearly.

Johnathon seemed to fold in on himself as he stood. Arms tightly pressed to his sides, legs together, posture extremely informal, etc. Even with his stature he was like a frail dog, unable to hold eye contact for too long and keeping himself at a low profile. He seemed to make himself appear small. It made you feel kind of bad. No wonder he was so tense...

"You want my number? I'll text you my dorm and we can get started whenever, no pressure." It was like a bid with him. Convincing him to visit your place so you could both work. You could easily tell he might feel unease at the idea, so you kept it plain and simple for him. Johnathon steadily breathed in spite of his racing heart. He wasn't good with making plans with others because he'd get sidetracked and forget about them. He'd feel terrible to do that for a first impression. "Yeah, we could do that...if you'd like, that is. I don't wanna like, force you to do it o-or whatever—" "Dude. I offered. No need to worry." You try to reassure him with words and a smile. A croaky laugh left his lips as he realized he had been on the verge of an apologetic ramble, "Right. Sorry."

"You're good, Ohnn." You reaffirm your previous words. Johnathon nods whilst bending down to grasp the handle of his tote-bag, stuffing his notes carelessly inside. Once up straight (or as straight as he normally stood), he speaks again, "Hey, I don't mind being called Johnathon or John. I think Ohnn's a little formal since we're, y'know— partners?"

Johnathon looks down at the person before him with careful eyes, trying to gauge their reaction. He hoped that statement wasn't too forward. He never really knew when to keep things casual or professional so he always just assumed. God, what if that was too much for them? Did he really have to say that? Maybe they could just call him Ohnn, it's not a big deal—

"Sure thing."

Your response was simple. He hadn't gotten the stink eye like he'd thought he would. Johnathon's smile is sheepish when he clears his throat and hesitantly nods. He didn't always have conversations longer than 20 seconds. Talking with you had been a breath of fresh air for him and he couldn't tell if the churning in his belly was excitement, anxiety, or joy.

A wave of relief, with just a hint of embarrassment, crashed over him. He took a shuddering breath as he lowered himself to the floor, ignoring the slight shake in his legs.

Another nightmare then.

They weren’t uncommon in this house anymore. The number of times he had woken to Leo screaming in his sleep, or Raph falling out of bed because he was clawing at his eye –

It was a wonder anyone in the house slept at all.

Donnie sat on the floor for a bit, taking steadying breaths like Mikey showed him. He didn’t have the energy to do the counting thing Mikey always did, so he settled for holding his breath for as long as he could before releasing it at a steady pace.

He had no idea how long he kneeled at the center of the room, trying to calm himself, but it was long enough for his legs to fall asleep. He frowned at the stinging sensation, and glanced over to the digital clock.

2:43 AM.

He stood up, scrubbing a hand over his face. Sleep. He needed to sleep. He hadn’t gotten much rest the last few nights, and a little over an hour of sleep today certainly wasn’t going to cut it. Donnie turned to walk back to bed when the sounds of a crash from outside his room stopped him.

His feet stopped, as did his breath. A beat of silence, and another crash, followed by thudding footsteps that he didn’t immediately recognize. He silently walked over to his bedroom door, pushing a hidden button in the doorframe. A battleshell detached from the opposite wall and hovered over to Donnie, attaching to his shell with a hiss.  He slowly crept out of his room, blinking his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

It was probably just Leo. He barely slept these days.

Something dropped on the floor, shattering loudly. Immediately, thundering footsteps, much too large for Leo, much too quick for Raph echoed in the silence. It was coming from the kitchen.

Quick breaths, in and out through his nose, was all Donnie could manage. He could feel his heart hammering through his plastron, and his hands were pinned to his sides. He should call for help. If it wasn’t one of his brothers, they should wake up. He needed help. He didn’t bring a weapon, what an idiot, what chance did he stand against –

Donnie reached the edge of the kitchen, and peered into the blackness. He couldn’t get control of his breath. What if someone had found them? What the Krang had found them? What if they weren’t all gone? What if they had already found his brothers, what if he was the last one alive, what if–

And in the darkness, in the silence, a hand was placed on Donnie’s shoulder.

He didn’t even think. There was a hand on his shoulder, he didn’t know who was behind him, and he didn’t know where his brothers were. He whipped his head to the side, and bit down hard. The hand immediately pulled back, but Donnie locked his jaw and refused to let go. He was yanked, and his knees hit the hard ground. Someone was yelling, someone was shaking the hand back and forth, but he couldn’t hear any of it. There was a ringing in his ears, and his eyes were screwed tightly shut. He couldn’t let go if he wanted to.

The hand stopped moving.

The yelling that was barely heard over the noise in his head stopped, shifting instead into a quiet murmur.

There was another hand on the side of his face. Not pressing down with any sort of real force, just resting on his head. The hand felt vaguely familiar – which was enough for Donnie’s eyes to snap open and see –

“Ramphh?” The name came out muffled, due to the fact that he was currently biting down on the snapper’s hand.

“Heeeeyyy, Donnie,” Raph forced out a smile. His face was tightly pinched in pain. “I know you’re ‘prolly all sorts of stressed right now, but I really need ‘ya to let go.”

Horrified, Donnie did what he was asked. Raph drew his hand back to his chest, letting out a low whistle. “Man, you really got me.” He reached up to the kitchen counter to grab some paper towels.

Donnie looked around, confused. He felt like his brain was still catching up to reality, like he was still two steps behind.

“When did we get on the floor?” was the only question he could manage.

“Well,” Raph started. It was obvious he was choosing his words carefully. He tore off some paper towel, and pressed it to the bleeding wound on his hand. “I was in the kitchen, lookin’ for a snack, and I stubbed my foot. I was hopping around, trying to balance, knocking into stuff and whatnot.”

Which explains why he didn’t recognize Raph’s footsteps.

“I was trying to be quiet, but I saw you in the doorway. You looked all freaked out, so I was trying to get your attention without scaring you!” Raph lifts an uninjured hand to scratch at his head. “It didn’t work.”

Donnie drew his knees up toward his chest, tucking his head between them. He couldn’t stand looking at Raph right now. The guilt was too much.

“You bit me, and I kinda just fell backwards. Figured you would let go when that happened, but you just fell with me.”

“Raph, I’m so sorry,” Donnie whispered. A metallic taste filled his mouth, and tears gathered in his eyes as he realized what it was.

“Hey, hey now!” Raph smiled, “It’s okay! I scared you!”

“I hurt you!” Donnie snapped back. He lifted his head. “I bit you!”

“Believe me, I know!” Raph chuckled. “But it’s alright. Raph has had worse.” He passed Donnie another piece of paper towel, which Donnie gratefully accepted. He wiped his mouth, cringing when it came away red.

He tucked his head back down in his knees, another wave of panic and shame quickly overtaking him. He bit his own brother. Just because he was panicked. What kind of scientist does that? What kind of brother does that? What -

“Hey,” Raph’s gentle voice cut through the static. “I’m gonna put an arm around you now, okay?”

Donnie didn’t say anything in response, but when Raph crawled next to him on the kitchen floor and put his arm around him, he immediately leaned into his older brother.

They sat in silence for a bit, the only sounds the hum of the refrigerator and the shallow breaths of Donnie.

“Remember the last time I went Savage Raph?” the snapper asked quietly.

Donnie said nothing, but nodded his head slightly.

“I lost it! Apparently.” Raph tilted his head to the side. “Don’t remember much of it. But I attacked all three of you! And tried to EAT a crab man.”

Donnie smiled, even though Raph couldn’t see it.

“And I felt so guilty!” Raph continued. “I really did. I would never hurt you guys.” He tenses for a moment, and Donnie knows he’s thinking about what the Krang did to him that day.

“Wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, pushing himself into Raph’s side. “You didn’t mean to.”

“You’re right, it wasn’t!” Raph shook Donnie slightly. “It wasn’t my fault, and I didn’t mean to! And you didn’t either.”

“I wasn’t in ‘Savage Mode’,” Donnie said, complete with the air quotes. “I don’t have an excuse.”

“I think you do!” Raph laughed. “When you bit me, your eyes were white. Scared the pants off of me.”

Donnie lifted his head once more. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope! Apparently, my eyes go white too!” Raph smiled once more, and Donnie couldn’t help but feel a bit comforted. “Savage Raph tries to eat villains! Savage Donnie bites a lot.”

Donnie laughed, the tension of the day fading from his frame. “There’s no such thing as Savage Donnie!”

“We’re brothers, aren’t we? If I can go Savage, why can’t you?”

Donnie just shook his head. “Let me see your hand, you idiot.”

Raph unfurled his injured hand, which had just stopped bleeding.

“I’m gonna match with Mikey and Dad now!” Raph cheered. “I’m part of the club!”

“That’s a horrible club,” Donnie scoffed.

“It needs a name,” Raph smiled, and pulled him in to a tighter hug, which Donnie didn’t mind at all. They sat on the floor, the older brother rattling off ideas for club names, while the younger shot them down. He wouldn’t be going back to bed tonight, but he found that he really didn’t mind.  

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