ROTTMNT Stuff (And Some 2k12)

Live

"Donnie. . Donnie step away from the edge please—"

. . .

"Donnie please step away from the edge— Come to me Dee we can talk this out!"

. . .

"Dee— Dee please. . . Please— I don't want you to go—"

. . .
. . .
"Leo. . ."

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

One. .

Two. .

Three. .

Drip, drip, drip.

Four, five, six. . .

Drip, drip, drip, drip. .

Seven— Arms are going numb, maybe it'll—

"Dee! Dinner is ready!"

Damnit. . .

He sighs shakily, standing up and wobbling his way over to his bathroom. Small, faint dripping could be heard from behind him as he walked, arms hanging limply at his sides as he stumbled into the private space.
He opened the mirror compartment, pulling out a small med kit and setting it on the sink counter with a sigh.

Gods he felt lightheaded. . .

Good. Maybe I'll drop dead—

"Dee!"

"GIVE ME A SECOND—!" He snapped, much louder than intended since his soundproofing was off and this sewer echoed like crazy when it was.
"Okay! We'll be eating already when you wanna join us!"
"Whatever. ." He mumbled, honestly not even having an appetite as of now. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he hasn't been having one for the past few days. . . Most things just seemed repulsing, and others just seemed like a flavor-nightmare. Too much to handle even during his 'brighter' minutes. Although he knew the others wouldn't let him skip out this time, they already had twice and we're getting suspicious of it.
He sighed as he wrapped his wrists, hissing lightly as the bandages touched the wounds.
Ow. . . Damn it I pulled it too tight.
Whatever, he dealt with it. He didn't feel like fiddling with them as of now, so he just picked up the loose materials from the med kit and put them away, closing the box and returning it to its spot in the mirror compartment. He turned, noticing the spots of purple on the floor and scoffing lightly, as if it was mocking him for his supposed sins. Pathetic. This is— No, no. . . Just get a bot to clean it up. And make sure Shelldon doesn't see.

He opened the bathroom door and walked out, avoiding the purple splatters creating a trail on the floor. This must've been what was making that drip noise. . He noted, grabbing his tech cuff off of the lab desk and typing in a command. No shit Sherlock, what did you think it was? A damn paint bottle? His mind snapped back. He scowled, pressing the command confirmation and summoning a cleaning bot from its selected place within the laboratory. It was then he decided his work was done and he reluctantly trudged his way out of the stuffy room. His movements were slow, sluggish, like he hadn't slept for days on end.

He hated it.

He grimaced to himself, noting his horrendous posture but doing nothing to fix it. He'd just make up some sort of excuse about it. Or not answer at all, because apparently he could do that. No shit. Did you think you couldn't before?!
He slowly began to hear the distinct chatter of his family from within the kitchen space, likely getting their food or sitting at the bar counter.
'Great,' he said with sarcasm.
The softshell sighed quietly, trudging into the obnoxious space and walking straight to the coffee machine. He really needed sustenance right now, and coffee sounded really nice.
"Hey Dee!" And there it is, how did he not already know that was coming? "Why're ya getting coffee? Isn't it like six or seven PM?"
"Well, 'Angelo, if you must know I am thirsty and have lots of work to do." That was a lie, he wasn't going to do anything other than lay in bed doom-scrolling on his phone for hours on end. And he knew it.