A/N This is far from my best piece of work. I'm still trying to get a feel for the TMNT characters, hence the short and awkward feeling one-shots. But I love this fandom so I can't resist. :)
We never know why things happen the way that they do. If I had understood even a piece of my own life, then maybe I would understand what I was doing here, sitting alone in my bedroom, waiting for him. Waiting, wanting, needing him. My robe is belted tightly around my waist, and I pretend that it is sufficient covering, that it is there for warmth, and that the bare skin that lies beneath is because of my own comfort. Deep inside I know better, but I still tell myself it the same. It isn't because I know he likes me like this, ready for him, with only the touch of silky fabric between us. That I would be cold all night just to give him a moment of aroused pleasure.
I don't know why I wait for him like this. It reminds me of being in high school, of being ignored by the track star until it was just the two of us in some basement at some party. It reminds me of innocent kisses beneath the bleachers; it makes me feel fiery caresses in a dark sewer. It reminds me that he's coming here tonight, and that I'm waiting for him. Patiently. Eagerly. Pathetically. All of the above. Who would have thought that the shy one was the one that could leave me breathless, leave me hanging on every word, and leave me trembling beneath every touch? Who could have known that I would throw logic into the wind? That I would decide that a night in his arms was worth risking my life with another. That his kisses would outweigh a family, or a future of normalcy. That the burning of his body inside mine would overtake everything until there was nothing left to me but him. That I would be so completely destroyed by this.
I hate how much I want him. It leaves me weak and I have never been weak. Until now.
There's a soft click in the living room. He did it to warn me, because he is silence incarnate. I stand and face the window, moonlight on my face as I let the robe fall from my shoulders. I close my eyes and exhale. Casey will be home tomorrow. I will put my ring back on. But for now, he's here, and he's touching me.
And I love him more than anything I have ever loved.
I don't know why.
I slip through the window in the living room, and when I shut and lock it behind me, I make sure to keep the sound of the latch closing audible. She doesn't like being snuck up on. And even though she knows I'm coming, she's had enough bad people come up upon her unexpectedly to make her jumpy. The apartment is dark, although I can see the flicker of candlelight coming from the bedroom. Even out here I can smell her jasmine shampoo. She must have just showered, and the thought of her doing so makes my blood rush through my veins. I pause before I enter the bedroom.
I think about what we're about to do.
In all my dreams of me, and of her, and of us, I never had dreamed of it being like this. In my naivety, I had thought that it would be sweet and innocent. Pure. That I would hold her and tell her I loved her, and we would live the rest of our lives the way that lovers do, in some hazy blur of everlasting bliss. My dreams had never included the ring she had shown me, only hours after she had accepted it. I had never pictured my growing hurt as I watched her look at invitations and pick out dresses. I never thought that the first time I would kiss her would be out of frustration and jealous anger. Because she was making me give up my greatest dream and I hated her for it. I never dreamed that she'd kiss me back like she was drowning.
I didn't want it to be like this. I wanted to be honest and straightforward with my friends and family. I wanted to openly show her how I felt about her. I wanted to hold her hand on my couch instead of pretending that she wasn't holding the hand of another. But even the most patient can finally snap. Instead of telling her I loved her, I kissed her. And kissed her again. And forced her back to the wall and lifted her up, her legs around my waist. I tore two buttons off her shirt getting it past her shoulders. I've torn many more of her clothes since.
I take a step and then halt again. Once I step into that room, I won't have control of myself. I gave up that control long ago. She used to be my best friend, but now she was like my drug. My fix. My obsession. I needed these nights with her. I used to worry that this would end as soon as she made those promises to another, but the closer I get, the deeper I sink into her, the more I realize that she can't give me up either. If anyone was going to lose this battle, it would be him, not me. But she didn't have the courage to tell him, and I didn't have the willpower to stand back and wait while she tried. So I was here. Again. It was a hell of a lot nicer than the alley behind the building or a sewer tunnel. At least she deserved a bed beneath her as we self-destructed together.
I'm moving through the bedroom door, and even though she hasn't heard me and her back is to me, she knows I'm here. I can tell by the way she seems to stiffen slightly. Her robe slides past her shoulders, and smooth skin is all I can see. It's everything I always wanted to see.
"I don't know why…" she whispers softly. I touch her bared arms, and pull her back against my plastron, and she melts into me. Trusting, loving, helpless. My breath warm on her neck as I whisper.
"Yes you do."
I'm not supposed to be home until tomorrow. At least, that's what they think. I don't like lying, not even to people that I know are lying to me. But with them it's different. They aren't lying because they want to hurt me. They are lying because they don't know how not to hurt me. It took a lot of nights in bars, head in my hands and heart in my gut to realize it. I knew it, deep down, but tonight is the first time I've ever tried to catch them at it. I wonder if they realize how many times I've left them alone, and if they ever wondered why I didn't come back. Did she ever get jealous and think that I was with someone else? Or was she too consumed with him to even remember to think about me? It's not the cheating that makes me so damn bitter about this all. I would be a hypocrite to hold it against her. Even when I loved her and knew she loved me, I still wasn't as faithful as she thought. I know I let her wallow in her guilt about him. Passive aggressive isn't my normal behavior, but I couldn't hate her and I couldn't hit him. Not when he was my brother. Not when he was so damn hopelessly in love with her… I let them feel guilty cause that's the only thing I can do.
When I proposed, she wasn't supposed to accept. She was supposed to look at me and finally admit to herself it wasn't me she wanted. But she said yes. And started sleeping with him. It was fucked up and sad as hell.
I'm not supposed to be home until tomorrow. My guess is that she'd welcome me back with open arms and a shadowed hurt look in her eyes. I'd kiss her and she'd tell me she missed me. Then she would disappear in the bathroom, turn on the shower, and cry behind her curtain of water. Instead I'll come home tonight. Why? Not because I want to catch them. But they need to be caught, so they can move on with their lives. So they can finally be together without anything or anyone standing in their way. So I can move on, and we can all finally have some closure on this whole screwed up mess. Because I love her, but they love each other. And sometimes, a guy just has to let go.