Love reBuilt {TMNT 2012}

CH. 7 - 9

CHAPTER SEVEN

omg guys, while writing this my family and I literally got evacuated due to a huge fire right outside our town lmaooo. don't worry tho, i saved my laptop ᕙ⁠(⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠∧⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠:⁠ ⁠)⁠ᕗ 

anyways, it's super late even regarding that (so many apologies) I just started re-binging Unbelievable (great show search up tw tho!!) and the procrastination got real y'all. I tried to make this one longer as an apology.

Also!!! Discovered a yt channel I LOVE and think you guys might too!! Their channel name is Shandzii and their OC animatics are just (⁠ ⁠'⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠'⁠) perfection. Def go check them out if you're interested! (lots of pirate characters over there!) Anyways! enjoy the new chapter, SOOO sorry for the delay! I'm gonna try to get a better upload schedule and actually stick to it. (⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒)

enjoy yall!!

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The brrr-ing of the copy machine felt so mechanically sweet and repetitive that your head bobbed a few times trying to fight off sleep. God, it felt like you hadn't slept in ages. And you were used to not sleeping. Your sleep schedule hadn't been near normal since your freshman year of high school.

But this time? You haven't been able to get a wink of sleep in the past three days. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw a turtle with a sword to your throat. And it wasn't like bad dreams were all that unfamiliar to you. They weren't. You were an adult, albeit a young one, but an adult. If an adult has a dream, they usually aren't all that happy.

But these ones felt frequent enough it was like you couldn't get any restful sleep at all.

It also didn't help that your first reaction when dealing with insomnia was to work it off. This meant that you now worked on your assignments at night on top of your disgustingly long days. Your eyes were red and puffy, Mr. Blakes notified you how unprofessional it was to come to work looking like you just cried, and recommended you kept your sobbing to a schedule, "just like he did". Preferably one that allowed crying after work hours. You knew he was joking, but you still fought the urge to punch him in the throat, the prick. 

Instead, you thanked him for the advice and left to go make his dumb copies for his dumb work in his dumb high story office.

At this point, you were too tired even to respect his position. Fuck, you just wanted this day to end already. Maybe you grew out of temper tantrums when you were a tot, but that didn't stop the urge to poke at your brain. At this moment, all you wanted to do was cry and whine and stomp your foot and yell. Man, you wanted to yell. You wanted to yell about how unfair life was and how exhausted it made you, how stupid aliens were, and how you wished you were a kid again when everything hadn't turned to absolute bull-honkey shitty shit yet.

But you didn't yell.

Instead, you pulled the freshly printed copies out of the printer and refilled the ink cartridges in the printer. Then you walked down the hallway and towards the elevator. And finally, at the last ding, you rounded the corner until you reached Mr. Blakes office. 

And as you entered his office to deliver the documents he requested, it only poked at the urge in your brain more. There Blakes was, face contorted in the utmost of concentration, his chin resting on his fist, as he scanned the stupid chessboard sprawled over his desk. He was playing chess by himself. The COO of one of the largest benefactors and corporations in the world, was playing chess by himself in his high-rise office. At 2 pm on a Tuesday. You wanted to punch air.