#Based off a true story but turtlefied because they suffer for me and with me and anyway the moon trope is real so there

[imagionationstation]

[Self-Destruct Initiated.]

The small, innocent device explodes in his hand.

Sharp heat bites at his skin as he glares at the remnants. He drops them carelessly, watching them hit the floor, fingers flicking the rest from his palm.

His brothers stare at him.

He stands, swift, and walks towards the turnstiles.

No one calls after him. He doesn’t miss the exchange of looks.

The bitter, angry, ugly emotion that demanded he blow up the device that took his brother months to build drags him across the city. He doesn’t have a place in mind, but he can’t stand staying in the sight of prying eyes that are likely already plotting an interrogation.

And, if he knows Raph, an intervention.

Leo steps falter, light pants dissipating in frigid air.

He goes to the parapet. He wants to turn away, but he doesn’t.

He stares out to where the full moon graces the sky, and then down to the windows that glow just as bright. He sits on the edge, resigning himself to the new placement.

A car speeds down the street, filled with whooping teens.

Leo scrubs at his eyes, careful with his breathing. He times it, evenly.

He wonders if he’s allowed to cry when he’s the problem.

He hates that he doesn’t know. He knows that it’d be too embarrassing to ask. He thinks it would be easier to pretend that the hurt doesn’t exist anymore, gone with the messages on his t-phone.

The ShellRaiser stops in the street. Turns into the alleyway.

His brothers’ voices filter up to him.

Doesn’t matter anymore, Leo tells himself. There’s no need to run.

Then Raph comes up to the rooftop and his tired voice is carved with a protective edge as he snaps, “What’s Karai doing now?”

The familiar anger swells and dies in a moment, tightening his chest and slumping his shoulders. The knee-jerk notion builds up on his tongue, “It’s not her. It’s me,” as it always does to face the age-old accusation. He looks at the decor in the room across the street.

He doesn’t say anything.

Why doesn’t he say anything?

“Shut up, Raph.” Donnie says, eloquent as ever. He comes to sit by Leo, their heels resting against the wall. He stares directly at him and the eldest waits for him to call him out on the blatant destruction.

“How you doing?”

“Bad,” He decides, voice weaker than intended. Mikey wraps his arms around him from behind, hiding his face in his shoulder. Leo puts a hand on his arm and squeezes, unsure for whose benefit.

“What’d she say to you?”

“Raph,” Donnie hisses. He can feel them glaring at one another.

“I’m not acting like a friend.” Leo says, reminding himself that it doesn’t matter. It’s his fault. It’s his fault. “I’m asking to much of her. The Foot are her priority. I’m ruining her ability to lead.”

“Glad to know what’s important to her highness-”

“I miss her.” Leo interrupts. “I talk to her all the time and I miss her.”

Mikey squeezes tighter. Donnie mutters, “I know.”

He hears Raph sit down. He watches the moon and wonders if she can see it. He glances across the street, where a sword glints innocently in its stand. He can remember her excited grin as she invited him along, and the frown on her face when he denied her.

“She’s not alone anymore.” Donnie admits lowly. “You were there when she needed it. Now, she has other people to lean on. People who won’t say what she doesn’t want to hear.”

“She’s already out the door.” Raph grumbles. “Why are you holding it open?”

“So she’ll come back in.” Leo looks at the moon as it bathes them, pretending his voice doesn’t crack so the tears don’t fall. “Isn’t that what a good friend’s supposed to do?”

Donnie doesn’t answer. Raph stands and returns to pacing the roof.

Mikey holds on when he lets go and tells him that he’ll be okay.

Leo looks at the moon and wonders if she’s crying too.