Man, this is the third angst story I've written, and they're all back to back...
I'm living for it! >:D
Coolkat :3
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He didn't get it.
This was the third time this week that he was being patched up, and he just didn't understand.
He was smart for a six-year-old, and he could have told anyone that from the start. He could do things that his brothers couldn't, including making various creations and inventions.
But even for the brains of the family, he still had questions.
He just wanted to play like his brothers did. They wrestled each other like nothing, and they seemed to have a great time doing it, they were having fun.
Yet, whenever Donnie tried to join them, he'd get hurt.
He couldn't play like them. His father told him that multiple times before, but the softshell just didn't understand. It took him many accidents and many painful falls for the message to get across, leaving Donnie to just go into his own world. Distancing himself from his brothers, he began to focus more on his tech and inventions.
He still had a feeling inside of him though. He just wanted to be like them; he wanted to run and jump and hang and just be a normal kid.
He just wanted to have fun.
...Maybe he just couldn't understand everything.
~~~~~
After looking at his shell for what seemed like the twentieth time that day, Donnie sighed.
It had been weeks since he had injured himself, but the pain was still unbearable. The scratches on his back were barely visible anymore, and he was grateful for that. But what the teen couldn't understand was why it had happened.
He had his battle shell on at the time, so why did he get these marks in the first place? Let alone why did it hurt so much?
He thought he was getting better at this...
Sure, he knew he wasn't unharmable, but the battle shell helped to protect him from most pains.
Unfortunately, it didn't protect him from all of them.
As he checked his shell in the mirror again, a frown slowly appeared on his face.
Was he weak for this?
It wasn't his fault that he was a softshell, he knew that. But it didn't help that he had to be treated with extra care.
He knew his brothers meant well, but it was starting to get annoying. Whenever Donnie would wince or yell in pain because of his shell, they'd rush to his side and try to aid him.
Most of the time he appreciated it. But now he was starting to hate it.
Sometimes he wouldn't even be in that much pain. A light ow would still send his brothers rushing over. They'd check him and look him over to make sure that he was ok.
Despite the softshell's tries to make them stop because it was annoying him, they would still check and ask him questions and stare, and oh my god I'm fine, leave me alone!
