Fifty Reasons to Stay (Book Three)

Chapter Forty Seven- Slice

(Leo's POV)

Donnie looked really... shaken up when I got the alarm off. Why would he be in the garage at 2:30 in the morning anyway? His story didn't add up. But what, could I say he was lying? Of course not.

"Alright, let's go back to bed then." I rubbed my eyes, putting the bat down. What if... what if he'd been down here with Raph? I couldn't let my mind wander. But when I'd gotten into the garage everyone's pants were on.. so I couldn't assume too much.
Still. I was hurt.

Donnie squeezed my hand. "My pills are still in the car, can you come with me and..."
"I don't have a shirt on and it's ten degrees out there. You'll be fine."

Donnie went outside.

Raph was still staring at me.
"So... what were you doing downstairs anyway? Guest room is on the second floor." I tapped my foot, arms crossed.
"I heard something downstairs, so I decided to check it out. It was just Donnie." Raph responded, heading towards the door. I blocked his way. "You know he's mine. Don't you dare lay a finger on him."

"As if I would do that," Raph acted disgusted by the idea, "I know he's yours. God Leo, don't get your undies in a tangle. I would never touch him."

"I can't say I trust you right now."
~
Once Donnie and I got back upstairs, he was very, very quiet as he climbed into bed, facing the wall, seeming to want to shrivel up and die.

"Is... is Raph making you uncomfortable?" I asked, pulling the blanket over my shoulders.

"N-No..." His voice was faint, maybe tired? Maybe. "Just go to sleep. I don't want to talk right now."

The next morning, I woke up to a silent house and a silent neighborhood. Another snowstorm hit us, leaving only six inches this time.

Donnie was curled up into my side in the fetal position. He looked cute this way, of course, but he never actually slept in this position. Sure, it was fun to cuddle while falling asleep, but by the time I wake up in the morning, Donnie's halfway down the bed with his feet hanging off the side, or nearly falling off the bed. His pillow is almost always covered in drool and scrunched up below his head. But no, today, here he was hugging my arm while he slept, glasses on the side table and wearing a different outfit than the night before. This one was much more baggy.
That's another thing. He doesn't wear his glasses around me, only contacts. There was no drool on his pillow. This wasn't right.

I didn't know whether to be pissed off or really worried. I could definitely be both.

I shook his shoulder. "Donnie.. wake up."

His eyes shot open and he looked around, eventually meeting mine. "I h-had to change out of my clothes.." He frowned, picking up his glasses. "And I'm out of contacts."

I swear all I did was narrow my eyes and he started bawling into my chest. In a babbled, messy worded mess he explained that he couldn't sleep and he went for a drive, ended up getting sick on his clothes (he showed me the vomit stains and everything 😌) and the glasses were because he found them in his car.

He said he wasn't feeling very well and needed to get out again, he couldn't be cooped up any longer. So I said, okay, calm down, we'll go out for breakfast, get dressed...

And he sniffled and stripped in front of me before picking out a blue sweater and black jeans. Sweaters and jeans. All he ever wears.

Donnie wiped his cheeks and waited for me by the door. "Can we go to Marisol's?"

Marisol's was a little diner downtown that was very quiet and old fashioned. Donnie liked meeting me there for lunch on work days. Him and Thomas went there after work sometimes, and other days he just went alone. He loves the place.