Thirty-Eighth Theory [Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[Before Don goes out this morning, he leaves a note on the kitchen table.]

GONE TO THE SMITHY.
BACK TONIGHT.

[Two days ago he was angry with his brothers for being overprotective, but today everything is different. He genuinely wants them to know where he is, because they've all just been reminded how suddenly a person can vanish.]

[Part of him thinks he should have just stayed home, but... April never wanted him to give up on his work, no matter how futile it seemed. With that in mind, he heads into the village to keep a promise. The promisee is gone too, this time kidnapped before he even started working, but he's going to keep his word anyway. It's not like his curse could cause any further disaster.]

[... Maybe.]

[At any rate, he'll spend the day making tuning forks, for reasons he doesn't entirely understand. While he works, he'll keep an eye out for Sokka. He needs to talk to him about... a certain matter.]

Comments

[markofthewise]

[Sokka won't arrive until much later in the day, as he only just now heard about the draft after spending some... special time up in the Hot Springs with Suki. He's really only dropping by to stock up on his extra arsenal of bombs, knifes, and other sharp objects. He has no clue anyone else is using the place.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Loud noises coming from the forge, interspersed with off-key musical notes, might suggest to Sokka that someone is here. Or if not, Don's ninja senses will eventually penetrate his focus and alert him that he's not alone, at which point he'll come out to see who it is.]

[markofthewise]

[So it does. He decides to head back there, expecting to find Winry or Edward. The back of a shell makes him thing Raphael has finally decided to come back, but then he notes the purple bandanna....]

Donatello?

[i_speak_softly]

[He jumps, but manages not to drop the red-hot metal in the tongs in his hands, instead getting it safely into the tub of cold water before turning around.]

Sokka. I was hoping you'd be here.

[markofthewise]

Uh, yeah. I've kinda been... out for the last few days. [You know how it is. You start super dating your girlfriend, take a trip to the hot springs, get interrupted by a draft...]

Whaddya need?

[i_speak_softly]

[You're not the only one who's had a rough week. He'll get straight to the point.]

I heard you and Katara got called for the draft again.

[markofthewise]

Yeeeah, I kind of just found out.

[i_speak_softly]

[He rubs the back of his head.] I know it's bad timing, but if you could pass on a message to her...

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[semper_cogitans]

["In a few days, if you still feel anything, or... or still want to be friends... Call me on the journals." Robert had been obsessing over that for the past two days. Combined with the shock of a recent draft and the pain of knowing Helios was kidnapped, having unspeakably atrocious things done to him by the Malnosso most likely, Robert had hardly been able to do anything other than cry. And drink. For the first time since he'd gone to Luceti.

He was a bit of a mess today. But two days... that counted as "a few", right? Was it too soon? Was he just making an even bigger fool of himself? Robert didn't know... But he knew he needed to speak to Donatello. Because even a heavy alcohol binge while he was holed up in his room crying hadn't erased the feelings. Even hating himself for having them hadn't erased them. Even trying to suppress them as usual by methodically cleaning, cooking, writing, anything other than dwelling on it - it hadn't worked.

Perhaps, subconsciously or otherwise, Robert didn't want it to work. Maybe, for once in his life, he wanted to try. Luceti was insane enough. Maybe it was making him go insane too.

So he opens his journal, head still mildly aching from the aftereffects of the hangover he's nursing, and hits the "Call" button for Donatello's journal. He even musters up his best filter so far - if this call goes as terribly as he thinks it might, it's better to keep it quiet.

Donatello might hear his journal ringing. If he does pick up, he'll hear the following sad, strained little voice, full of a mess of emotions, most of them bad.]

... D-Donatello... May we talk?

Because... the feelings... are still there.

I-I... I apologize. [Robert knows because he's an emotional failure Donatello hates him for them. Mostly he just wishes they would go away and stop ruining the few friendships he managed to make.]

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[i_speak_softly]

[It takes Don a few minutes to realize someone is calling him, and when he does, he assumes it's Raph or Leo, furious and waiting to order him home. He sighs and turns away from the deafening blast of the forge.]

[But when he picks up the journal, it isn't Raph or Leo's face in the window. It's Robert, looking anywhere but at the camera and mumbling into his lapels.]

[Don can't make out a word he's saying.]

Robert...? Hold on...

[Voice|Filtered 100%] 2/3

[i_speak_softly]

[He turns back to the forge, taking his time to bank up the fire and make sure it's safe to leave alone for a while. He needs these minutes to think. He wasn't expecting Robert to call so soon (he wasn't expecting him to call at all), and he isn't sure yet what he wants to say.]

[Voice|Filtered 100%] 3/3

[i_speak_softly]

[When the fire is safely banked in the back of the furnace, Don turns away from the noisy machinery, scoops up his journal, and heads into the slightly-quieter other room. One more moment, and he looks down at the book.]

Yes?

Re: [Voice|Filtered 100%]

[semper_cogitans]

[That moment where Donatello puts the journal down kind of makes Robert's stomach flip and scrunch in on itself from anxiety. The decision to actually call the turtle hadn't been an easy one to make, and the delay was just making him even more poignantly aware of how uncomfortable he was.

But this would be the worst possible moment to run. Not that Robert hadn't run at the worst possible moment before - but he willed himself this time to stay. To... to face up to this. It was for Donatello's sake, and for the vague little hope that maybe Donatello wouldn't hate him for this.

Still, his first response is a question.]

I-I... d-did I call at a bad time? I apologize, I didn't... [Okay, he was babbling and that had to stop. Robert forces himself to calm down a little. Just a little. His voice is still shaky, quiet; maybe it's obvious how little he slept last night, he doesn't know.]

... I... You told me that... that if I still h-had feelings, to call you. In a few days. [He doesn't know if this is "a few" but...]

... and, e-er, this particular... situation's outcome has yet to change. [Robert's voice hitches a bit, almost breaks from anxiety. He can't help how he rambles a little, in a stuttery broken sort of way, that distracted way that he has when he isn't sure exactly what to say and tries to sound like he does regardless.]

I realize that you, er, p-probably don't... don't want to deal with me again right now and you have b-better things to do and surely you a-aren't interested in that - you probably don't even like humans anyway like that and it's likely much too soon, we barely know each other and...

[Robert falls silent, his cheeks burning. He kind of writhes in place.]

I... Gah. I... I just apologize for all of this. T-Terribly ridiculous of m-me.

[Voice|Filtered 100%]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don listens silently while Robert rambles. At the end of it, he's still not sure he understands.]

Robert... what kind of feelings do you have for me?

Re: [Voice|Filtered 100%]

[semper_cogitans]

[... He doesn't know?

Robert blinks, taken totally by surprise by that.]

W-Well. Er.

... Romantic ones. A-And just, general positive feelings... I, er, wouldn't want you to misinterpret that as... u-um, as me being shallow or... [Robert stumbles over his own sentence and clams up again.

He forces himself to breathe.]

... I-I understand if, if that makes you angry. I... I just... I just wanted to... ... to let you kn-know that I won't... I won't allow these to influence our... our d-dealings. I... [Robert wants to admit that he's scared. It would've been so much easier to, only a few days ago - to just pour that emotion out at his feet. And in a way that's terrifying; that something so fundamentally terrifying was so easy a little while ago.]

... m-mostly I wanted to... wanted to see if you could still... t-tolerate me.

[Voice|Filtered 100%]

[i_speak_softly]

[Tolerate you? He can't stop thinking about you. But he doesn't know what to think about what you just said.]

You're - really interested in me that way?

Re: [Voice|Filtered 100%]

[semper_cogitans]

[A sentence like that calls for a ubiquitous answer.

Robert can never give one.]

Y-Yes.

... N-Not that it sh-should mean anything... untoward, of course... certainly you shouldn't h-have to pay any a-attention to it whatsoever if you d-don't wish to a-and...

[Robert clamps down on the urge to ramble on and on. He's actually panting a little from fear.]

Ah... I-I... I'm s-sorry, Donatello. You... You hardly need this, this nuisance from me.

[Voice|Filtered 100%]

[i_speak_softly]

[His mind is spinning from what this might mean. He's afraid to accept it, but he finds he's even more afraid to let it go.]

Robert, I - I don't know if I can. But - I could really use a friend right now.

[Action]

[meanandgreen.livejournal.com]

[When Don comes home that night, he's greeted with a blast of heavy metal music loud enough to make his eardrums pound. The bass makes the whole house rattle on its foundation.



Or maybe that's just Raphael throwing the furniture around again. The impact of whatever he's just thrown makes the floor shake.

And Raph's screaming. It's impossible to make out what he's saying over the noise, but the anguish in his voice is palpable. It's a stark contrast from Leo's stern but far gentler tones struggling to cut through all the chaos on the other side of the bedroom door.]

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[This is rather alarming. Don deposits his clanking bundle in the living room and goes directly to Leo's side.]

What's going on? Raph...?

[Action]

[honorthecode.livejournal.com]

[Leo's rapping on the door pretty good at this point. Not banging yet. He glances at Don]

I don't know. I suddenly started hearing the noise. I've been trying to get his attention.

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

[He leans up to the door, listening, then looks at Leo with a worried expression.] Has he been in there all day?

[Action]

[meanandgreen.livejournal.com]

[Yeah, he's been there all day, and all yesterday, wallowing in some dark hole inside his mind. Sleeping, barely eating, just doing nothing until he realized how fucking stupid that was. Fuck that emo bullshit. He wanted to get angry. Anger is better. Anger feels good.

Throwing the nightstand against the wall is like a killing blow in a fight. The wood smashes to splinters in his hand. The impact vibrates through his bones. And for a split second, he feels fucking wonderful.

But then it's gone and the spark of madness is sucked away from him in a vacuum until he finds his next target of destruction, his next momentary high.

The anger fogs his brain. Tunnel vision. The booze only enhances it, makes the vibrations send a shockwave explosive enough to jar his nerves. He stumbles as he grabs the half-empty bottle of whiskey again and tries to down as much as he can in one swallow, relishing the way it burns in his chest.

That hurt. That's what he wants. He wants to feel, chase away that hollow feeling, fill himself with pain if he has to. Pain is better than emptiness, and he forgot how good it feels.

He knows his brothers are outside. He can hear Leo banging on the door, but he blocks it out. Only roars a battle cry as he flips his entire bed on its side.]

[Action]

[honorthecode.livejournal.com]

With the music blasting. The banging and all is more recent.

[He'll bang on the door again, specially after that battle cry] Raph!

[Action]

[i_speak_softly]

I'm going in. [He puts his hand on the doorknob, but it won't turn.] It's locked. [His other hand goes to his belt, and his eyes go to Leo.] Should I pick it?