Of Men and Mutants (Rottmnt Donnie x reader🍋)

Pt 35

*THIRD PERSON POV, THE PARTY AFTER YOU-Y/N-YIN LEFT*

As the boys saw Donatello be left bewildered on the floor, they began to tease about how he's starting his own harem. Leonardo specifically, asked how dancing with the "cutesy chica" was. Soon enough they were all buzzed from the strange Yokai alcohol and Raphael was trying to get everyone ready to leave. Leonardo was hitting on Usagi, who was wearing his Cloaking Brooch. Shinigami was dancing with Michelangelo and Raphael was starting to get distracted with Mona's pleasant conversation.

As the boys soon left the party, they joked and teased each other about the time spent with the "strangers". Donatello soon found his mind wandering, lingering over the look on Yin's face as she took his hand. The shine of complexity and beauty in her eyes, the hidden gleam of courage, yet also fear and dismay. Her messy hair, freshly dried, uncared for, and uncut. The beauty in her appearance was a small segue from the feeling behind how she looked.

There was something about that dance, the words Donatello ended up hearing, words that laid claim to her having killed her opponent in her first fight. Yin feared her own actions. It was a fear that seemed clear as day when looking into her eyes. Those eyes... so complex... so beautiful...

She was everything. The little imperfections that made her glare in the mirror were perfect to the teenager that she'd just danced with. Yin struggled with her self image, but when he looked at her, all he could see was the glowing gold and beautiful sheen of perfect imperfections. Every limb, every scar, every mark, every hair, every cell. She only saw how her mind didn't work like others... How many issues her body had... But, there was something more human about her during that moment, something that was so... glorious.

*POV with you-Yin-Y/n/TimeSkip brought to you by Gordon Ramsey's tears bc this b!tch is cookin'. Five star Michelin.*

You make your way towards the portal back home, feeling shame in everything you've done. There was a burning sensation in your gut and tears forming in your eyes as you vomited in an alley and continued home. You soon smelled the scent of gasoline and random garbage as you continued walking to your apartment. It was getting dark, and when you got home, you heard your mother and father telling you to talk with them.

"Y/n, it's only a year. I know it'll be scary, but we'll be right back before you know it." Your mother chimed, sounding sympathetic and gentle. You stared at the floor, trying not to let anyone see your bloodshot eyes or smell the unfamiliar alcohol on you. The feeling of the alcohol you'd drank and the blunts you'd smashed seemed to have already fallen and faded... As you stood, you nodded, not wanting to hear anything else.

"When do we move?" You asked, hearing the hoarseness of your own voice caused your father to stand and pat your shoulder. You tried to ignore the fact that physical contact isn't really your thing, accepting the attempt of comfort from your father.

"In about a month or so... it should be enough time for everyone to get their affairs under wraps." He says, letting his hands linger and he classically squishing the muscle of your shoulders as he realizes that your not as scrawny as you once were. He smiled softly as your mother sat down, seeming to think everything was fine.

"Huh? Tryna bulk or something, Ÿįñ?"

"What did you just say?" You ask, gasping into the inquiry. There was no way you'd heard him correctly. He couldn't have said that name. It would have been impossible. It should be...

"What? All I said was, "Are you trying to bulk or something, Y/n?"... Are you okay?" He asked as he backed away, watching you rush to your room. You turn to lock the door, tears forming again as you lay on your bed, mind wandering over everything. You double check your phone soon, seeing another text from Monty. Hopefully it's more reassuring than her little text earlier, which was essentially, "Oh hey, I'm hanging out with April and letting her take care of your kids in your rival's home."

Montana (Only friend):

(Hey! U home safe? I'mma probably head back soon! Luv ya bestie!)

You groan, face pressing against your new favorite hoodie-pillow contraption. You toss your phone, wanting to ignore in. Maybe if you focus on the oddly specific light from the sun that seems to be shining too brightly through the window for it being sunset... The urge to be ignorant to your device is soon dismantled by your need for completion and clarity. You grab the phone again and lay on your side. The light of the screen is still too bright as you turned it down.

Yin (Doin' everyone's mama):

(Salutations, Monty. Also, it's meant  to be written as follows: "Hey! Did you safely return home? I'll most likely get back to my home soon! Sent with love, Monty." Not whatever that grammatically incorrect nonsense was. Segue. I'mma probels chill and try to sleep. Fingers crossed, yk?)

Montana (Only friend):

(Yeah yeah lol)

Yin (Doin' everyone's mama):

(Cool. Ttyl bro.)

Montana (Only friend):

(Fr tho. Love you.)

Yin (Doin' everyone's mama):

(I know. Luv u 2)

As you responded with uncharacteristic writing, you pray that she doesn't realize how hard it is for you to say, or even write sometimes. Saying "I love you" doesn't properly compute in your mind, and neither does the newfound blood on your hands. You try to close your eyes and sleep, but instead are cursed with flashes of blood, hearing the screams, the pain...

"Nope." You say, snapping out of your half-asleep daze. You sit up, logging into your computer.

"And the password for this is "BigggDaddyyyEinstein6942069" right?" You ask yourself, soon nodding in response to the proper login. You smile, putting on Howl's Moving Castle. As you enjoy the animation masterpiece, you eventually find yourself criticizing the ending out loud, changing it to Rick and Morty. You loved the show, it was scientifically flawed and definitely poorly written in some areas, but it hit the spot.

"There we go, Rick and Morty." You say, turning on the show and drowning your troubles in the beauty of a scientist grandpa, who does space-shit with his grandson. It's better than StarWars.

(Fight me over it lol)

As you watch through the first two episodes, you try to ignore everything and everyone. You got rather far before realizing the time. You didn't care. Time was awful. It was a measurement of how long someone suffered, then they die. Time is an illusion that makes us think we're in control of how we spent it. Truth is...

"We have... less than so control... We're powerless to the changes and merciless tides of nature and... science... Why is change so hard?..."

(Word count: 1178)