Work Text:
“There you are.”
Raph turns to look over his shoulder, tilting his head up to look Donnie in the eye.
“That’s ominous,” he says, mostly out of habit.
Donnie doesn’t apologize for almost hitting him in the back with the door, which is kind of expected, but there’s a softer kind of look on his face that makes Raph wonder how long they’ve been looking for him.
He ditched the last period, and he’s not even sure why he hasn’t gone home yet. Probably the same reason he’s been avoiding his brothers’ calls and texts.
Donnie tilts his head a little in thought, almost like he really wasn’t expecting to find him here of all places.
Raph’s not sure what that's about. He loves hanging out on wet stairs next to the school’s dumpster. Everyone knows that about him.
“Man,” he says, turning back to stare ahead. “Don’t stand there all creepy like that.”
Donnie's always standing kind of creepily – when he's not slouching, at least. He's grown taller in the last few months, all lanky and wiry, and he has the tendency to get lost in his mind – back straight and eyes blank.
He’s been doing that a lot in the last few months. Maybe they all have.
Donnie steps closer, sitting down on the stairs next to Raph with a sigh. Then he winces, wiping his palms down on his pants.
“Why are you hanging out here?” He asks, head tilted up, sniffing the air. “Smells like garbage and cigarettes."
“People come here to smoke.”
“Duh,” Donnie says, giving him the best glare he can from behind his nerdy glasses. “I know that.”
Raph doubts he did. He doesn’t think Donnie’s tech club friends would show him around places like these. They don’t seem like the type to go outside much.
“What are you doing here, then?” Donnie questions. He makes an odd gesture, like he wanted to lean back on his elbows and then thought better of it. He points to Raph’s hand with his chin. “That’s not a smoke.”
And Raph’s first instinct is to run.
He’s been dodging his brothers all day for a reason, and the slip of paper in his pocket seemed to burn into his skin like a brand; always sizzling somewhere in the back of his mind.
He hates feeling like this. He’s not sure if it’s shame or anger, or if there’s any real difference between the two anymore, but it burrows deep into his gut, slow and insidious like a needle.
And maybe he would run.
If it was anyone but Donnie.
The thing about Donnie – the thing that Raph never used to appreciate as much as he should’ve – is that, at heart, he’s a violently stubborn creature. There’s nothing he’s above sinking his teeth into, he’s the worst at keeping secrets, and there’s nothing he loves more than forming new hills to die on.
He and Raph are so alike it’s almost infuriating.
Raph didn’t realize he’d been clutching his fists, but he must’ve, because the paper’s all crumpled up now and his hands feel a bit shaky when he loosens his fingers.
Wordlessly, he puts his hand out.
Donnie takes the paper from him, smoothing it out over his knees.
And then stops, frowns, and lets out a quiet ‘tsk’ sound.
“I know,” Raph says, barely daring to look.
Donnie flips the paper to the other side, the line between his eyes deepening. He looks a lot like Leo when he gets like this. It never fits quite right on his face.
“You left this empty,” Donnie says.
Even like this, Raph can still see the massive ‘F’ at the top corner – spilling onto the back of the paper in bold red ink.
“I didn’t know there was a backside.”
“Ah. Well,” Donnie says, folding the paper in half to hand it back. “That sucks.”
Raph’s not sure what shows on his face, but it must be something properly miserable either way, because there’s nothing teasing in Donnie’s voice when he says it. It’s not like him to pass a bragging opportunity like that, and it kind of makes everything feel just a bit worse, actually.
Raph takes his test back, stuffing it into his pocket, eyes fixed straight ahead.
He never found math all that interesting or even particularly useful, but Dad always managed to make it seem just a little less boring – all things his new teacher seemed to have zero care for and no desire in imitating.
She’s all no-nonsense and raised voice, and she seems to carry a special sort of dislike towards the lousier students, which, apparently, now included Raph. Something he had to quickly adjust to when he started going to school was that a lot of people thought they knew him before they even really met him, and she was no different in that regard.
Not that he’s ever proven her wrong.
He’s bad at math, and he’s not the best in English, and he bombed his last biology test only because he got into a fight right before it and the world still hadn’t stopped spinning by the time he made it to class.
…He might be the worst of them all, actually.
“I can help you study next time,” Donnie offers, even if they both know Raph would never take him up on that offer.
Raph huffs, and that’s that.
Donnie might push him on this, but he won’t do it now, and there are plenty of ways for Raph to avoid him back home. There’s a good chance they might never speak of this again if he plays his cards right, and he’s never claimed to be anything other than a gambling man.
But there’s that feeling, still lingering deep inside his gut, and it feels like it might just swallow him whole if he lets it.
Donnie’s been quiet for a moment now, which usually meant he wasn't going to speak unless prompted, but he seems weirdly focused, eyes narrowed.
“Sorry about this, man,” he says suddenly, voice a little hushed.
Raph supposes he can appreciate that.
He just wishes it meant something more.
“Hey, Donnie?” He manages, finally. “Do you think I’m dumb?”
“Yes,” Donnie answers immediately. Then: “Oh, wait, you’re serious?”
It’s crude, and blunt, and so much like Donnie that it makes Raph laugh – short and mean, almost like a bark. His brother is so serious sometimes, all high and mighty, that it’s hard to keep a straight face around him.
“Man, what the fuck?” He says, watching Donnie’s face rapidly change shades. “I’m trying to be vulnerable and shit.”
“Sorry,” Donnie says, nervously fixing up his glasses. “I wasn’t ready, okay? Ask me again.”
Raph feels the corners of his mouth drop, his face smoothing out once again. He leans back, laying his shell flat against the short stairs.
It’s kind of gross and wet, but looking up at the sky feels a bit better than staring at that dumpster. Donnie hesitates, but only for a moment, before laying down next to him, fingers laced together across his chest.
He raises one leg, bumping Raph’s knee with his own.
“Do you think I’m dumb?” Raph repeats.
It comes out easier this time, his throat just a little sore.
“No,” Donnie says, and Raph huffs, something standing close to a laugh.
“Well, that’s easy.”
“Ask me a harder question, then.”
Raph’s quiet for a moment, crossing his arms.
“I know I’m not as smart as you,” he says eventually.
It used to bother him a lot when they were younger.
Donnie’s always been just one step ahead of all of them, but at eight years old, he was perfectly aware of it for the first time in his life. He loved bragging, and he loved showing off, and he loved making every small kindness feel like a favor.
Raph was a better fighter – always has been and always will be – and sparring with Donnie felt a lot like constantly trying to prove something.
“All brawn, no brain,” his brother muttered once under his breath after a match.
Raph told him to say it again, and he did.
Donnie lost two of his baby teeth that evening, and the bruise under Raph’s eye didn’t heal for over a week.
Raph was a lot meaner back then, and jealousy came to him as easily as breathing, but it was one thing for him to know he'll never catch up and another for Donnie to turn around just to laugh at him from all the way past the finish line.
They fought a lot.
Donnie called him stupid more times than he could count.
Raph said a lot worse things.
Sometimes, it was hard for him to believe Donnie ever really forgave him for all that.
Sometimes, he can’t believe he ever forgave Donnie.
“I’m not that smart, but neither is Mikey,” Raph adds after a moment. “And he still seems to do better than me.”
“Oh, Mikey’s cheating.” Raph turns to look at him with wide eyes, but he only shrugs. “Don’t tell Dad. Or Leo.”
Raph’s not quite that crazy or suicidal just yet, so he nods agreeably.
“Well, I didn’t think of that,” he says, which sounds stupid even to him. “So that’s… Whatever.”
Donnie nudges him with his knee again, harder this time.
“I don't think math is your thing,” he says. “Doesn’t mean you're stupid.”
Raph knows that. He does.
He’s had more than enough conversations with his dad about it to last a lifetime. But that was back then – when his whole world consisted of a few dimly lit rooms, and his brother being a bit of a jerk was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
He misses things being easy like that.
“Seems like it does here.”
Raph doesn’t think he likes school very much.
Thinking that feels a bit like stabbing a knife into his own back and throwing everything he and his brothers worked so hard for away, but he can’t always help it.
He likes having more friends, and he likes the wrestling team, and he likes being able to walk in the street with his head held up high. But there’s a lot more on his back than there ever used to be now, and he can’t shake away the feeling that if he ever stumbles now – everyone will see it.
“Doesn't matter,” Donnie says. “You know high school won't really mean anything in a few years.”
Donnie doesn’t care for most academics either, but it doesn’t really matter, because the academics care for him. Raph’s never seen him study for anything he wasn’t actually interested in, but he always seems to ace whatever paper gets put in front of him either way.
Donnie likes thinking, and he likes challenges, and public school doesn’t seem to have much to offer him in that regard.
Maybe that’s why it doesn’t mean anything to him. Maybe he’s already thinking past it.
“Sure.” Raph shrugs. “But I don’t think teachers-”
“Fuck them,” Donnie says, suddenly a lot louder. He shifts to lean on his elbow, looking at Raph like this is the thing he really needs him to understand. “You can't be good at everything. You can't make everyone happy.”
Raph blinks up at him, and it takes a moment for it to really sink in.
“...You?” He says. “You’re the one who’s telling me that?”
One of Raph’s earliest memories of Donnie is him sobbing after losing at Uno to Mikey, and he distinctly remembers an incident last year that almost ended in Donnie sending a pipe bomb to someone's house over an online argument.
Donnie was always trying to prove he’s good at everything, and he was always trying to make everyone happy – if by ‘happy’ he meant ‘proving to them he was right all along’.
“Shut up, okay?” Donnie huffs, and Raph can’t tell if he’s just annoyed or actually frustrated. “I know I used to do that too.”
“Used to?” Raph says, but he’s mostly just teasing.
When he thinks about it, Donnie’s incessant need to prove something has grown a lot dimmer lately.
“I guess I just…” He shifts again, leaning over to sit up. “Stopped giving a fuck about what others think of me.”
“Sounds badass,” Raph says, and he’s only mostly joking. He puts an arm behind his head to better look at Donnie. “How?”
That last part might’ve sounded too genuine, or too much like a plea, because Donnie looks down at him, face blank all over again.
“I can tell you, but it’s kind of serious,” he says.
That confuses Raph a bit. He thought they were being serious.
“Okay.”
His brother looks down at his hands, scratching at the dry skin around his nail.
“After Superfly,” he says, and that makes Raph understand what he meant by ‘serious’, “I started thinking about that. It made me feel kind of bad, that whole thing with the Mutanimals.”
“No shit.”
He used to wonder about it some nights; how he’d feel if that was Donnie, Mikey, Leo – standing between him and that console. He’s still not sure he has an answer for that.
“Superfly wanted them to be like him,” Donnie says after a moment. “To want the same things. But they weren't and they didn’t, and even if they tried to be, they would’ve just ended up dead like him.” He looks up, meeting Raph’s gaze. “You can never win like that.”
“Like what?” Raph asks.
He might just need to hear it again.
“You’ll never be good enough for some people. You just have to live with that.” He reaches out a hand, squeezing Raph’s shoulder one, twice. “I don’t want you to lose, Raph.”
For a long, long moment – Raph doesn’t know what to say. He thinks what Donnie means is that he hates to see him giving up like this, and that he wishes he never said the things he did all those years ago, and that Raph will always be just enough for him.
Raph’s still not entirely sure if Donnie's right about all of this. But his world falls in shades of black and white only, and it's nice to know his brothers still know what to say to make it all seem just a little lighter.
Sometimes, Raph feels like a hound; wild and just a little too rough to be a proper dog, but falling in line at the first blaring of a horn. It’s too easy to forget that with his brothers, this sort of blind loyalty always falls both ways.
“Is this still about my grades?” He says, because he needs to say something, and he thinks it might make Donnie smile, which it does.
“In essence,” his brother replies. He stands, seemingly deciding the moment’s over. Raph’s more than willing to agree with him on that point. “Come on. Leo’s probably worried sick.”
He reaches out a hand, something soft but stubborn painted all over his face. Certainty looks good on him.
Raph takes his hand without a second thought.