A Beautiful Moment and Paper-Thin Wishes
Author's Notes: Just a drabble that does, I have to warn you, include possible CHARACTER DEATH. There's not much point to it, but I hope someone enjoys it. Thank you so much for everything! (And yes. Yes, I am writing more Lockdown, Clarity, and BBCM. I'm just... slow. Sooorry.)
Man, this is so cliche. XD Oops.
There is no sun underground, but Leo can feel it when morning comes nonetheless. He is watching Raph's face, struck by the exhaustion that lines it and makes his brother's slack mouth hang open, as it pillows on the side of his own bed. If he reached out, Leo could touch it. He won't. As it is, Raph's breathing is quiet and deep for the first time in weeks. That Leo can steal even a second of this sight is abnormal but welcomed.
He still sort of wants to do it, anyway. Inch his fingers forward. Brush Raph's head, feel the ridges of scar tissue. If Raph woke up, Leo could tell him some stuff. He's had a lot of them stored up for a while. But this is good fortune and so Leo doesn't do any of these things, just tucks his hands under his side so they won't budge and coughs weakly into the pillow.
It doesn't hurt today. Today is going to be a good day.
'Don't forget to light the candles before practice. When Mikey's depressed, let Donny be the one to find him. When Donny's depressed, send father, and when our master's chambers are empty, remember to make the green tea when you take it to Donny. It's going to make him cry, but that's okay. When you're feeling badly, remember things… about mountains, I can't—the words—but it was about mountains. I like the smell of the sandlewood you've been scrubbing on my bookshelf. I've never been in my own room so much before and I like what you've made of it.
'Don't close things out because they'll only seep in stronger. Keep the milk stocked; Mikey always forgets. I love you all. Sometimes it overwhelms me, how much. Don't let training go on any longer than three hours, after that Donny gets distracted and Mikey gets fussy and you'll be bone-tired and black. Recharge the Shell Cell before you go out again, I heard it die out last night. I've got the weirdest idea, Raph, that I should've read more poetry than I did. Isn't that weird?
'I didn't like poetry half as much as I wished I did. I should have tried harder.'
He runs over what he would say—each sentence is precisely, carefully placed, the lines straight in his mind and given equal spacing—and then places the wonderings, like baubles, to the side. Some part of Leo thinks that if he tries hard enough, Raph will find them when he wakes up in a box by the bed. It's a comforting idea.
He studies Raph until he feels himself go, tracing his brother's features with gentle thoughts. Then they're gone, as well, because he's closed his eyes and the bed is warm like—