Here I am posting another Jonatello story while I still have other stories to finish. I'm so sorry. This is a human au, you can also find it on my tumblr totally-not-a-filthy-homestuck. I hope you enjoy! Read and review!
To say that Casey was bored out of his mind would be a gross understatement. He was pretty sure he had transcended into an out of body experience that consisted of him reliving the boredom of every person who had ever lived. The clock could not be slower, the room he was in could not be quieter, and he could not be more anxious for the school bell to ring if he tried. The cause of his distress was his last period art class.
It was a known fact that art was the easiest A someone could ever get; if they could stay awake for the class of course. Casey glanced down at his blank piece of paper and then up at the wall clock. There was still twenty minutes left of the school day. Twenty whole minutes of Casey staring at a blank sheet of paper.
'Damn.' Casey thought to himself, 'This sucks so hard. I don't even like art. Better than band class I guess.'
He picked up his pencil and pressed onto his blank paper. The lead immediately snapped.
'Screw this, I hate art. I swear, if I didn't need more credits to play hockey…' Casey's thoughts trailed off as he continued to stare at his piece of paper.
He took out a pocket pencil sharpener and tried to sharpen the broken pencil tip but the lead continued to snap as soon as he pressed it down onto paper. After many frustrated tries, Casey snapped the pencil in half and tried to throw one half of it across the room at Irma. He missed by a foot and ended up hitting the book bag of the kid behind her. He was going to try again with the other half when the class door creaked open.
"Phew, I made it. This room is really hard to find, it took me forever to get here."
Casey thought he was seeing a boredom induced mirage when he looked at the boy standing in the doorway.
The boy was tall and extremely skinny; so much so that his clothes hung off his body like large wet towels. He had bright orange shoes with tape on them, blue jeans with red patches on them, a dark purple shirt with several holes at the hem, and a green tote bag that had safety pins holding together the seams. What really caught Casey's attention was the boy's face.
His eyes, which were probably a red-brown colour under normal light-looked pink under the art room's florescent bulbs. Much like Casey, he had a gap in his teeth. Only his looked natural unlike Casey who just forgot to put his mouth guard on during hockey practice. And the boy's hair, it was dark auburn and stood up all over the place. Looking at the boy's hair, Casey's thoughts went to an image of a mad scientist.
The boy looked so strange that Casey couldn't take his eyes off him. The boy looked like he existed solely to be looked at, that his purpose in life was to make other's notice him and his existence in his strange entirety and Casey was doing just that. He didn't look away until he locked eyes with the boy. Heat spread to Casey's face and he looked down at his paper which mas not smeared with broken pencil lead.
"Class," The art teacher stood from her desk and started talking, "This is our new student, Donatello Hamato-"
"Hamato Donatello, actually. It's Japanese so you would say Hamato first." The new boy, now known to Casey and the rest of the class as Donatello, smiled out to his peers.
His smile quickly faded as snickers filled the room. One kid from the back rolled up his paper and used it as a microphone to shout out'
"Nice outfit, did they have a sale at Good Will or did you put them together from sewer shit?"
Casey didn't turn around to see who had yelled but at that moment he had never wanted to punch someone so badly. The teacher must have felt the same way because she walked over to the kid and slammed an office referral onto his desk.
"Bullying and foul language is not tolerated in my class." She said as she made the kid stand up and marched him out the door. Before she left, she called out over her shoulder.
"Class, I will be back in a moment. Irma will watch you and report to me if anyone misbehaves. Donatello, you can take a seat right next to Jones, he's the one upfront. You can start drawing if you like to but since it is your first day you can just get settled if you wish."
Donatello nodded to the teacher and then started walking towards Casey. Casey's mouth went dry as Donatello took a seat beside him. He watched as Donatello rummaged through his green bag, his tongue stuck out in an almost cartoonish fashion as he shuffled through his things. Soon Donatello pulled out a crumbled piece of notebook paper and a nubby yellow pencil. Casey was still staring as Donatello tried to smooth out his paper and apparently the action didn't go unnoticed.
"Would you stop looking at me?" Donatello hissed without looking up from his paper.
Casey, who had been caught off guard by the sudden comment, said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Uh, I mean, sup? Donatello yeah? I meant, right? I'm, um, Casey Jones. Cool to, you know, meet you or, you know…yeah." For the first time in his life-or at least the first time in a few months-Casey stumbled over his words.
He awkwardly held his hand out and tried to smile cheerfully but, judging by the wary face Donatello gave him, the smile might have come across as psychotic instead. Casey was about to put his hand into his pocket and save himself any more embarrassment when, to his surprise, Donatello reached out and shook it.
"I'm Donnie. Just call me Donnie."
The words nearly flew over Casey's head. He was too distracted by the feeling of Donnie shaking his hand. Donnie's hands were rough and calloused all over and Casey could feel where the skin of his palm cracked. Donnie withdrew his hand after three or four seconds, which was three or four seconds too soon for Casey. He wanted to keep holding his hand, memorizing the cracks and the chapped skin and where the callouses were placed and-
'Whoa, get it together Jones.' Casey told himself.
Casey Jones was not a sentimental person, he didn't get moved by poetry or cry at movies or read Rainbow Rowell novels will drinking green tea. He also wasn't the type of person to lie to himself. There were times where he would see a hot guy walking down the street and he would be just fine thinking to himself that he really wouldn't mind hitting that.
But this was a completely different feeling altogether. And he did not like it.
In an effort to distract himself, Casey glanced over at Irma. She was busy sketching on him paper and telling the kids around her to be quiet. One of the kids tried to snatch her glasses but she elbowed the kid hard in the ribs. Casey laughed out loud and Irma turned her gaze to him. She looked like she was about to get out of her seat and come lecture him but at the last moment she seemed to stop herself. She slouched into her chair, pouted her lips into a kissy face, and winked.
Casey was completely bewildered for a moment. Was Irma flirting with him? Where did that come from? He scrunched his face up in disgust and made a barfing motion at Irma. She rolled her eyes in response and then pointed her finger to the seat next to Casey, the seat that Donnie was sitting at. She repeated to same kissy face while pointing at the seat. Casey promptly gave her the middle finger and looked back down at his desk.
The clock at the front of the room read 3:25.
Casey hadn't realized that time had gone by that fast. He glanced at his still blank sheet of paper. After a few seconds of consideration, he crumbled it up into a ball and tossed it at Irma's head. This time it hit the kid in front of her. With a sigh of frustration, Casey banged his head against his desk.
"Hey! Stop that, you're messing me up!" Donnie said as he tried to erase the stray mark he made on his page with a sun baked eraser.
"Oh, I'm sorry dude, do need to borrow my eras-whoa." Casey's words fell of as he glanced at Donnie's drawing.
Somehow, in only a few minutes, Donnie had managed to draw the most realistic looking cat that Casey had ever seen. Though it didn't really make sense, Donnie's drawing of a cat looked more like a cat than an actual cat did. It was like Donnie took the image of a cat and perfected it; his drawing was what a cat was supposed to be like. Casey had to stop himself from reaching out and petting the paper.
"Dude, how did you draw that? How…what…did you magically trap a cat onto your page while no one was lookin' or somethin'?"
Donnie looked flustered by the compliment and pulled the drawing closer to himself.
"Thanks. My brother likes cats so I practice drawing them."
Casey started to ask about Donnie's brother but before he could the school bell rang. Donnie packed up his stuff and was the first one out of the room. In his rush, Donnie left behind his cat drawing. Casey picked it up, smoothed the edges of the paper, and carefully stuck it in his book bag.
'Yeah Jones, just take the new guy's picture after you stared at him for half the class. Not like that's weird or anything. Four for you Jones.' Casey thought.
He walked out of the class room, sprinted to the school doors, and started his way home. He had only been walking for a minute before Irma came up behind him.
"They're quadruplets you know." She said as she approached.
"What?" Casey gave Irma a confuse look.
"The new guy, Donnie. He and his brothers are quadruplets."
Quadruplets? Casey had a hard time believing that. He doubted that anyone else in the world could look like Donnie.
"They're faternal though."
'Ah-ha.' Casey thought to himself. There really couldn't be anyone who looked like Donnie, he was right.
"One of Donnie's brothers, Mikey, is in my creative writing class. Oh, Casey you should just see him! He's so cute and he has the bluest eyes and his cheeks are so chubby I just want to pinch then!" Irma started to ramble on and Casey took it upon himself to stop her.
"Gee Irma, do you want to date the guy or be his grandma?"
"Like you're one to talk."
Casey gave Irma a mean look and tried to act like he didn't know what she was talking about.
"What do ya' mean by that?"
"You know what I'm talking about. I saw you giving the honeymoon eyes at the new kid. You were all 'Oh be still my beating heart.'" Irma clutched at her chest and swooned.
Casey tried to shove by Irma but she kept up with him. She chatted about her day while he pretended to hit her with a hockey stick. They had walked about a block when they passed Murakami's restaurant. Casey didn't give to restaurant a glance. He nearly tripped onto the concreate when Irma let out a high pitched squeal.
"Irma, what happened? Do you see a mugger or somethin'?"
"Casey look!" Irma pointed at the dirty glass window of Murakami's.
Behind the glass, standing at the counter in restaurant uniforms, were two guys. One was short and lean with black hair that was dyed blonde ever where but the roots and a chubby face.
The other was Donnie.