A/N: So I am writing this for all my Suicidal readers. This is not suppose to be romanticizing being suicidal, but if it turns out that way I apologize and I will make a large attempt to fix it. Also, this will contain details of blood/self-harm/etc. so read at your own risk! THIS IS A WARNING! << It could be potentially triggering, so please read at your own risk. Please. Be careful. Don't get mad about it later, please, I warned you.. Also.. THIS THING WAS OVER 6000 words! I AM SSO PROUD OF MYSELF RIGHT NOW! So please enjoy!
Your POV
It needed to stop.
You knew this.
Still, that didn't stop you from sliding the dull blade across your wrist again and again and again. It didn't keep you from contemplating if you wanted to die quickly and painlessly by overdosing or if you wanted to punish yourself for all the wrong things you have done (that honestly weren't too bad but you still felt like they were the most God-awful things that ever happened). Knowing how bad this was for yourself didn't change a thing, and the (very few) people who knew this just didn't seem to understand this crucial bit of information.
There were plenty of people that loved you. It wasn't like you didn't know your mother loved you, or your older brother (even if he seemed to hate you sometimes) or even your father. You had great friends and you knew they would be there for you within a phone call. You didn't want attention - it just wasn't your thing - that wasn't why you did it. You didn't even completely understand it yourself.
And that was the worst part.
Knowing how awful it was. How selfish it was to want to die every single day with the extremely rare occasion of telling yourself it was actually a pretty OK day. That your life could be much, much worse, and yet the scars on your body told otherwise. It was addicting. The thoughts you had were so cruel, so dangerous, and yet you didn't know how to stop them. Even though you knew, you told yourself that it had to stop, that was about as useful as a heater in the middle of a scorching summer day.
With a sigh, you finally put up your blade, staring at the blood running down your wrist for a moment, more tears slipping silently down your cheeks. I'm so sorry for letting you guys down again, you think to yourself brokenly, feeling guilty for letting everyone down by giving in and cutting again. The tears hit your wrist, mixing in with the blood and causing it to run more. Unable to stand looking at the horrible slits that would leave ugly scars for the rest of your life, you got up from the bathroom floor and cleaned yourself up, still feeling the addicting sting from the blade.
Splashing some water on your face, you blinked a few times and practiced the most fake, genuine smile that you could muster up, even going as far as giggling at yourself. It was all too easy to pull yourself together. That was the tragic part. No one could ever tell. They said they could read you like an open book, and yet they didn't write the story. You did. You knew exactly what they were reading and knew the truth behind the story, knew the real meaning that they couldn't decode within your pages. A strange metaphor, but fitting for your situation.
"It's a new day.." You mumble to yourself as you get ready for school and comb through your hair before putting on a hoodie and a pair of jeans that you liked as well as your favorite pair of shoes. Just the usual attire. It wasn't anything new for you, really. You pick up your backpack that was full of school books and homework that was completed (well, unless you forgot about some of it again that is), and slung the bag over your one shoulder, too lazy to put the other strap on.
Despite your rather sour mood, you forced a smile on your face as you walked out of your room. "Morning mom, dad, (Y/b/n)." You call out to them, walking over to where your brother was at the door. He was going to be driving the two of you to school like he always did. Your brother had an idea of what you were going through, but at the same time he was just as clueless as everyone else was.
"Morning (Y/n). Don't forget you need to feed the dog tonight!" Your father called out just as you were about to leave the house.
"I won't Daddy!" You responded loudly before walking towards the car your brother was already in. Getting into the passenger side, you set your bag on the floor and look over at him. "If you're ditching again today, remember at least to pick me up from school, yeah?" You say, slightly teasing him.
The last time your brother ditched, he forgot to pick you up from school and you had to get a ride from one of your brother's friends. It wasn't bad, but he was a little flirty and it concerned you. Not only that, but as attractive as he was (and he was model gorgeous) he was your brother's best friend, which made him kind of like your older brother in a way too and that really freaked you out.. However, despite how uncomfortable the situation had made you feel, it slightly pleased you because you felt less horrifying to look at and a little more cute, even if it was only the slightest bit.
"Hey! I forgot because you forgot to text me!" Your brother defended himself, backing out of the drive and getting onto the road. His (e/c) eyes glanced over to look at you briefly. "Besides, you got a ride from (Y/b/bff/n) so it worked out."
"I suppose so." You let out a dramatic sigh, playing along. Although you two were having fairly cheerful banter, inside you felt dead. You felt the weight of the day on your shoulders and it was barely even starting. You felt dread as well - you didn't want to see Casey. He was so mean to you! He didn't mean to be, obviously, but he was so clueless and it hurt, those things he said.
"Whatever, brat." Your brother teased.
"I'm not a brat!" You retort defensively, though you were holding back tears, wondering if that's what he truly thought of you. Were you really such a monster that your brother thought of you as some little brat? Was it because you were annoying? Or maybe because you would tease him? Were you that awful of a human being?
"Well you ain't no angel, that's for sure." Your brother tells you, laughing.
"Whatever." You mumble and look out the window as if offended, but really you were hiding the tears filling up in your eyes. I'm sorry for being a brat. I'm so sorry...
The school came into view way too soon and you groaned as your brother pulled into the parking space. Without saying a word, you grabbed your bag and got out of the car, heading inside the building that stripped you of self-confidence, held fake friends, and a judgmental society. You glanced at the wall, rolling your eyes in slight amusement. Someone had spray painted "Welcome to Hell" on the wall in black and red, even adding in a small cartoon version of the Devil. Your generation was stupid and immature, that's what they were.
Ignoring the wall, you continued to walk until you - quite literally - bumped into none other than April O'Neil. "Oh!" You hear her gasp. "Sorry about that, (Y/n)." She apologizes, picking up her books. You help her, but you weren't in a rush as she seemed to be.
"It's fine, no harm done right?" You reply, forcing a carefree laugh.
She smiles in return and nods, "I guess you're right. Anyways, I have to get going so I will see you later, yeah?" She says, quickly rushing off. "Bye, (Y/n)!" She calls out as she runs down the hall and turns the corner.
Just as you were about to continue down the hall, a hand grabbed your wrist and stopped you, a familiar voice calling out your name.
You turn around and see the last person you wanted to see - Casey Jones. "Bye Jones." You say, turning to leave, but his grip tightens and your eyes widen as you sharply inhale, his grip causing your very recent cuts to burn painfully. "What. Do. You. Want." You grit out, praying he let go of your wrist. He did when he thought you weren't going to leave.
"Hey! What's got you in a bad mood today, (Y/n)?" Casey asks, looking confused.
"I'm fine, Casey. I just don't feel like being bothered today is all." You lie, making sure your wrist was far away from Casey - in a subtle way, of course.
"Awe, don't be like that babe!" Casey croons, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
"Casey go away. Please?" You sigh, pushing his arm off of you and slipping away from him.
Of course.
He followed you.
"Awe, is something wrong?"
"Yes. You won't go away."
"Don't be like that (Y/n)!"
"I'm not being like anything."
"Yes you are!"
"Definitely not."
"Are too!"
You stopped right before your classroom door and turned to face Casey suddenly. He almost walked right into you. "Look, Casey. I'm really not in the mood today. Please. Please, just leave me alone today." You pleaded, sighing and feeling tears swell up in your eyes. You felt bad. Casey wasn't even being mean today, but you didn't want to deal with him. Not today. It wasn't a good day for you. Why? You didn't know. You just didn't feel like talking to anyone today.
"(Y/n)...?" Casey looked utterly shocked, his eyes wide as he blinked a few times.
You quickly turned and went into your class, taking your seat and preparing for the long lecture your teacher was about to give to the class. The entire time, you zoned in and out. Trying your best to pay attention but getting caught in your thoughts as always, wondering why you were here, why you bothered to stay alive. All you did was get yelled at by teachers, made fun of by other students, ignored by the people you called your friends if you messed up once.
The bell interrupted your thoughts, though they were never gone for too long.
The day went by fast, but it really felt like it was dragging on painfully slow. You left your last class of the day with a sigh leaving your lips, your eyes glued to the floor. At that point in time, your brother sent you a reminder text that you were suppose to meet up with Casey for a project you had to do with him later tonight for the single class you had with him.
"Great." You mumble under your breath.
Later that evening is when it happened. You were on your way back home, Casey walking along after you and still talking about whatever it was he had been speaking of for the past ten minutes. Bluntly ignoring him, you continued to walk towards your house.
"Psst! Casey!" A voice loudly whispered.
It got Casey to shut up, and you stopped and turned around to look at Casey in confusion. What was going on? "Uh.. Casey? Was someone calling you?" You ask, though you told yourself to keep walking while you could because Casey was clearly distracted.
He jumped a foot into the air at the sound of your voice, yanking himself away from the alleyway he had been leaning into. "W-What? No! No one is calling me! You're hearing things! Hehe.." He was obviously nervous, and your eyes narrowed slightly.
"Casey you're a horrible liar." You state and glance around. "Why are so nervous anyways?"
"It's none of your business (Y/n) so butt out!" Casey shouts, and you take a step back with wide eyes and an open mouth.
"O-Okay." You stutter out, quickly turning away and leaving.. If you weren't already having a bad day (for no real reason) you would have snapped some witty and hurtful remark back about how he butted into your business all the time. When you finally made it home, you went straight to your room and laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling with tear-filled eyes. Why did you even care so much? Why were you so emotional? Why?
So many questions filled your head, but you didn't seem to be getting any answers. Most of the questions started with 'Why' and if they received any answer at all, it was the worst possible answer you could think up, which really meant you should stop thinking about it before you did anything stupid, but you couldn't. You never could. Why am I even alive? What did I do to deserve this? Why do I mess up everything?
The tears slid down your cheeks, and you instantly wiped roughly at them as if that would make them stop. You hated crying. It made you feel weak, pathetic, useless. Still, the tears wouldn't stop falling down your cheeks as you silently cried. Life was so cruel to people sometimes. But why was the real question. Why? Just to everything. Why?
After about an hour of crying and trying to pull yourself together, you decided you needed a nightly stroll. Getting out of bed and going over to your window, you made sure you had your cell phone on you just in case. Opening up the window as silently as you could, you slipped out of the house and your feet touched the ground. Inhaling deeply, you began to walk down the streets of New York.
Millions of thoughts were flooding your mind as you walked along the street, but those came to a halt at the sight in front of you. In the middle of the street (which for some strange reason was completely empty of New York traffic) were robots with brain looking things inside of them. And those robots were fighting... turtles? You blink a few times, wondering if the blood loss you suffered was making you see things.
They were still there.
You rubbed your eyes and blinked a few more times, but the scene before you didn't change. Though you soon realized you should have kept walking. Because suddenly a six foot tall turtle was in front of you, a long stick in his hands as he barely seemed to stop the robot thing from grabbing you. Unable to move, you just stared... well, that is until you saw a familiar looking person in hockey gear. Apparently he saw you as well.
"(Y/n)?" He called out, jogging over in confusion.
You blinked, still trying to figure out why he seemed so familiar. It was annoying, not being able to think, but you were still processing the fact that you were hallucinating. I mean, four turtles that looked kinda like people? That was more than a little crazy!
"Uh... and you are?" You didn't bother asking the obvious question, which would be, 'You know my name?' or 'How do you know my name?' because that never seemed to get anyone anywhere. The guy in the hockey gear seemed amused by this.
"Your knight in hockey gear, sweet cheeks."
Your confused expression instantly turns into annoyance. "Jones." You roll your eyes a little and then cross your arms. "Why are you in that ridiculous gear? You look like a wannabe serial killer gone wrong." You say, but you never got a reply. Why? Well, none other than a robot picked you up and began to carry you with it. Unable to help it, you screamed. It was loud, and you felt goosebumps form all over your body.
"They've got the girl!" A voice yells, but getting closer all throughout the sentence.
"Donnie you go help her, Raph and I will hold them off!" Another voice shouts.
When the same turtle as before showed up, you (correctly) assumed that the name was Donnie. It was all so strange. Talking, fighting, human-like turtles. Maybe it was all just some whacky dream? God I hope so... you think to yourself as you look around at the chaos surrounding you.
The one with the purple mask - who had been declared Donnie - knocked the legs out from under the robot, causing you to go flying up into the air. Surprisingly, though you felt like screaming, no words came out of your lips as you hurtled towards the ground. So, I guess this is one way to end it. You blink as you rush towards the ground. Your eyes close as you wait for the impact with the hard pavement.
It never happened.
Well, not as hard as you assumed it would be. It didn't hurt nearly as much as you had been expecting. Instead, you felt thick, smooth, leathery skin wrapped around your body, and on one side you felt a hard, wood-like presence. Slowly, you blink open your eyes to see what in the world had happened. With a wide, curious gaze, you stared up at the turtle in the purple mask. There were no words forming in your lips, but rather the opening and closing of your mouth three or four times and the blinking of your eyes.
"Are you okay?" Donnie asked, his rather friendly-seeming brownish red eyes peering down at you through the holes in his mask curiously.
Trying to find your words, you slowly nod your head to give some sort of answer. "T-Thank y-you." You managed to get out, offering a shy smile.
The turtle gave a smile in return, showing off a rather cute gap in between his two front teeth. Your shy smile widened a little at the sight, unable to help yourself. He was really cute, and you had to admit it - even for a male in general he was cuter than some of the kids in your class, simply because he seemed extremely sweet and shy, unlike some of the obnoxious and rude boys in your class.
"I-I'm Donatello." He stutters out, and you notice that his cheeks were a little pink and mentally smile.
"(Y-Y/n)." You reply, blushing as well, though it was more noticeable on you than it was on the dark skinned turtle.
"(Y/n)..." He repeats in something that sounded close to wonder. "That's a pretty name." He shyly admits, smiling at you again.
"DONNIE! EARTH TO DONNIE!" An angered voice shouts. "A LITTLE HELP HERE?" The same voice adds just as angrily. Both of you instantly snapped out of the little moment that you were having, cheeks blazing.
"Sorry, I have to go help my brothers. Stay right here, okay?" Donnie says, and you nod your head a little bit, watching as he searches your eyes before nodding once and turning around joining the fight once more.
It seemed to go on forever, the robots shooting at the four turtles (plus Casey, but you didn't pay him any attention he was an idiot) and the turtles deflecting their blows or dodging them with incredible grace. There goes your stereotypical thought of all turtles being slow, that is for sure. They moved quickly, so fast that sometimes you blinked and they were already halfway across from where they were a second before. It was hard to keep up with the battle happening right before your eyes.
The turtle in red was stabbing robots through the skull with his weapons, causing you to shudder unintentionally as you watch him tear off the head of another robot with a slightly sadistic grin on his face. Okay, so it was a little more wild than sadistic, but it was worrisome enough. Another turtle wearing orange - looking extremely adorable, might I add - was twirling his nun-chucks with expertise speed, though not doing a whole lot of damage as much as trash-talking the robots. Donnie was doing alright, whacking things with his bo staff and knocking weapons out of their hands. The turtle in blue was expertly wielding long katanas in his hands, slicing through the technology of the robots with ease. All of them doing critical damage (in their own way) and all terrifying even for the 'heroes' as it appeared they were.
"What have I gotten myself into?" You wonder to yourself softly, staring at the events that were unfolding before your very eyes. "And why?" For the time being, your thoughts of self-hatred and sadness were gone, but there was no doubt they would be back. Right now, you had something taking up the space in your brain with how insane it actually was. Honestly, none of this made any sense.
After what seemed like an eternity, the battle was over with four panting turtles and a passed out Casey Jones. You roll your eyes at the sight of the hockey player and sigh sadly, trying to forget the feelings that were slowly starting to creep up on you once again. Would they ever stop? How could they? Lately they seemed to be irremovable. Like there was no way to get rid of the horrible thoughts and feelings that seemed to provide a veil from the world of laughter and joy.. where all of your friends and family were (sort of).
Your sight begins to zone back to the hand waving in front of your face, and it takes you a moment to completely focus on it, noticing that the 'hand' was actually a green, three fingered hand that belonged to the orange masked turtle. "Yo! Dudette! You in there?" His voice breaks through your thoughts and you blink once again.
"Of course she's in there, ya retard." A Brooklyn accent cut in, and you glanced over to the location of the voice.
"Guys, knock it off. She zoned out for a long time." Another voice said, sounding a million times more serious than the other two.
"It was from blood loss. Her mind started to cloud up and before she could register it she was out of it. I'm surprised she didn't collapse sooner." The slightly familiar voice of Donatello broke through, and your (e/c) gaze fixed on the purple clad turtle.
"What... what happened?" You ask slowly, blinking a few more times to even out the blurriness of your vision.
"Halfway through the battle with the Kraang you passed out." The turtle with a blue strip of cloth tied around his equally as blue eyes spoke up, looking down at you. The moment those brightly colored eyes met your own, you seemed to relax, even if it wasn't the same soothing color as the redish-brown of Donatello's eyes.
"Kra....ang?" You slowly pronounce, blinking in confusion and tilting your eyes. You look to Donnie for an answer, not even knowing why you did so yourself.
"They are the species that we were fighting. Those robots with alien brains inside of their chests, which, according to them, they are called the Kraang. They have very advanced weaponry that surpasses our traditional weapons, but we manage to fight them off." Donatello explains, about to get more technical before he noticed your already confused and slightly concerned expression. "But you don't need to worry, we'll protect you!" He adds a little too quickly.
Slowly you bring yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your head and looking around at your surroundings for the first time. You weren't sure where you were, but it was clear you were inside something. A building, maybe? No.. that didn't seem right. There were no window. You spotted the entrance to an old subway nearby. Underground. That's where you were. Well, duh, (Y/n), you mentally chide. They are mutant turtles. Where else would they go? People wouldn't exactly accept them.. Wait.. why aren't I screaming?
You shake your head a little and then look back at Donnie. "Thanks.. I guess.. so.. what exactly are you and why am I underground? I kind of need to get home." You noticed the concerned glance Donnie gave your arms - which were covered by your hoodie - and you shift uncomfortably, pulling your arms closer to your body and wrapping them around yourself as if to hide them.
"I'd actually like to run some tests, you know, make sure that you're okay." Donnie replies, staring you down.
"O-Okay." You hesitantly give in, not exactly wanting to argue with the turtle what with the look he was giving you - plus they were all armed and clearly good fighters. What much could you do against them?
With that, you and Donatello went into Donnie's lab - just the two of you - where you began to have a serious talk about your health (which you weren't really pleased with). It started out with Donnie telling you (shyly, blushing, nervously) that he had seen the scars on your body while examining you to make sure you were okay after you passed out. That turned into him questioning why you would do something like that to yourself, as it was obvious it was not done by an outside force (where his physics and forensic science came in to play as he had played detective).
"I can't explain the why. I don't know. It just.. it makes me feel better." You mumbled out sheepishly, knowing full well that wasn't exactly an acceptable answer.
"That doesn't make it okay! Sometimes what feels good is really bad, (Y/n)!" Donnie stresses, his expression unhappy.
You wince at his reaction, unable to help yourself and not knowing why you did. It wasn't like he was going to hit your or anyting. That was crazy. So why wince? Because his words are true.. I know it. I jut can't stop. You remind yourself with a sigh. I don't want to be here anymore. Alive. It's nothing but trouble.
"I know." You weakly replied.
"You know? You can't do this to yourself, (Y/n)! Please. Look at me. You will get through whatever is making you do this." Donnie spoke, saying whatever he could think of.
"How? I don't even know why I'm so sad. Why do I do it? I want to know the answer to that myself.." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you couldn't find it in you to look at Donnie.
His large three-fingered hand came under your chin to make you look at him. "I'll be here every step of the way to help you through it. One way or another we're going to fight this off. For now, let's clean those cuts up and bandage them. I heard there was a project for stuff like this called the butterfly project. Is there anyone you really care about?"
You nod softly. "My best friend, (Y/bff/n)."
"So next time you feel like hurting yourself, draw a butterfly and name it (Y/bff/n). You have to leave it on until it naturally fades away. If you do it again before the butterfly is gone, you killed your butterfly." Donnie explains softly.
You mentally roll your eyes. Like some silly project could actually make you stop the horrible habit you had acquired. However, you would try it just to prove that nothing could save you now. Nothing could help. It wouldn't help and you didn't know why it didn't help. "I'm going to have ugly scars." You mumble out, staring at the cuts as Donnie begins to bandage them.
"You will. Let them be a reminder of your strength when you overcome it. Until then, they are the result of a pain you've held in for too long. That was very unwise of you, and if I didn't know how delicate this situation is, I would have let Raph lecture you like he was about to before I dragged you into my lab." Donnie explains as he finishes off the first of the bandage wraps.
"Gee, thanks." You reply sarcastically.
"I'm not going to lie. You will have ugly scars from this. They will be darker than your natural skin, and over time they will seem to have faded visibly, but every once in a while you are going to be able to see the hint of what they were and remember your body will permanently be scarred. You damaged the beauty you were handed.. Like a painting that got tossed carelessly into a shredder or a dryer. These scars damage your beauty, and add to your warrior-like appearance. So you have to stop. The only scars I want to ever see on you are from battle wounds from your opponents, if that. Earn your scars by doing the right thing, not by taking the easy way out. Everything is worth the battle." The purple masked turtle spoke, finishing up the last of your bandages.
You should have felt upset, and you should have felt offended, like he didn't understand, but he was being honest. He was voicing the words you thought on a daily basis, and you both knew it. "Since when is it normal to get life advice from a mutant turtle?" You wonder almost aloud, and Donnie raises a brow at you. Or... what would be a brow.. if Donnie were a human...
Donatello laughs humorlessly at your comment and then takes your hands in his, forcing you to look deep into his red-brown eyes. "I'm serious, (Y/n). I barely met you, but that doesn't mean anything." He said, giving your tiny hands a squeeze. "You need to take better care of yourself. If you ever need anything, let one of us know. Raph may seem like a jerk, but he's a real softie. Tsundere. And you know, Mikey will always be around if you want to laugh. And Leo.. he's really understand.. and..and there's me. I'll be here." Donnie got a little shy towards the end, which you found rather cute..
"Thank you, Donnie. I will remember that." You nod your head.
You went back home the next morning, having been shown to the manhole in an alleyway nearby by Donnie. After that, you didn't see the turtles again for a long time. Meaning it was a couple of months. You tried, sneaking out at night, always catching a glimpse of them. Sometimes it began to feel like a dream. On nights that things would get so bad and you wanted to break down and cut, you felt like you were being stared at so fiercely that the blade literally seemed to move on it's own accord and back into it's hiding position.
One random night after those two to three months, he showed up.
Donatello.
He was a little banged up, but he came in, stumbling into your room, exhausted. You had helped him onto your bed, asking if he was okay, but he was more concerned about your scars and had forced you to allow him to examine you for any other cuts. For the more private areas, he just made sure he didn't smell any dried blood (which you asked what it smelt like to a turtle with a sensitive nose like him, but he didn't explain) before he kissed your forehead and disappeared into the night. Things like that happened a few times, but not very often.
It kept happening, those strange nights.
He'd show up, check on you, and leave.
Finally, you got sick of it and the next time he showed up, you latched onto his arm. "Donnie! Why do you come and go?" You ask. He didn't answer you, and you sighed. "Fine. Go. Leave without any explanation just like everyone else." You mumbled, letting go in defeat and walking slowly over to your bed and sitting down.
The only indication that he had stayed was the shift in the bed as it sunk next to you due to more weight. You slowly looked up to see Donnie looking back at you sadly. "(Y/n)..." He began, sounding apologetic. "After the first time we met, Master Splinter wanted it to be the last.. I shouldn't even be here.. If my brothers knew I came here as often as I do..." He trailed off and shuddered. "But I have to make sure you're okay. So keep fighting, please. Don't give in." He looked down at your wrists and gave you a dry look. "You're scars need to be your reminder to do better for yourself." He said and kissed your forehead before disappearing.
With a groan escaping your lips, you lie back on your bed, thoughts swirling around in your head. You weren't sure what to do, honestly. The urges to cut got stronger the longer you didn't do it, but you fought it every day, for Donnie's sake. You didn't know exactly why, but you never wanted to see that sad puppy-dog look ever again in his brown-red gaze.
Donnie came to visit more often, and he actually stayed and hung out with you when he had the time. He would help you with your homework, so it was just one more worry to not have to be concerned with. It really helped, and you were surprised at how much not having to worry about grades made your anxiety lift. You were in better spirits, and you were sure it had to do with a certain purple masked turtle that came to visit you at night. Even your parents noticed the change, and they would ask you about. Actually, they even started teasing you again like they use to, not acting like you were glass anymore.
Things were starting to get better, and though it started with Donnie, it was you who really did the work. You told yourself you needed to get better for everyone you loved and cared about. That it was time to defeat the depression and sadness that was so overwhelming within you that had caused your emotions to go on a rampage of sadness and self hatred.
"I'm not horrible."
"I'm not the worst person alive."
"I'm cared for."
"People love me, though sometimes it's hard for them to express it."
Those were the things you began to tell yourself, slowly coming to terms with it. Donnie would help you out too, telling you things like you were beautiful (which was one you were still having a hard time coming to terms with, but every so often you would look in the mirror and believe it, even if it was brief). You developed an inevitable crush on the purple turtle, and he on you. The day it happened was a day that you would never forget.
"(Y/n)....." Donnie spoke nervously, glancing at you with those red/brown eyes that seemed to draw you in.
"Yeah Don?" You replied, looking at him curiously. The two of you were in the lair, Master Splinter having finally accepted that you two hung out. Your back was resting against the arm of the couch, and your legs were sprawled across Donnie's lap, as unlike you (who was laying down across the couch) he was actually sitting up. He looked nervous, you noted mentally and gave him a reassuring smile.
"I-I was wondering.. if you would maybe like. You know. Do you think it would be p-possible.." He didn't seem to know how to form his words.
"Uh, Donnie, you okay?" You ask, looking more closely at him.
"Y-yeah.. I-It's nothing..." Donnie chickens out, looking away.
You sit up a little and move to crawl onto his lap, straddling him and forcing him to look at you. His cheeks flared up, darkening, and you attempt to ignore the blush in your own cheeks. "Donnie, what's wrong?" You ask softly, worried about him.
"I-It's nothing, (Y/n), honest." He was obviously lying as his voice went up an octave.
"Donnie.. please... tell me?" You gave him the look you knew he couldn't resist.
With a defeated sigh, Donnie looked at you. "Iwasjustwonderingifyouwouldliketobemygirlfriend." He mumbles out quietly and quickly, making it hard for you to understand. You blink and sigh.
"Donnie, I didn't understand a word of that. Will you please speak up a bit and go slower?" You ask. You had gotten less shy about things. You felt better about yourself. You had done it. Sure Donnie had started it, but all of the real work had been done by you. If Donnie left, it would hurt for a while, but you knew how to pull yourself out of it. He hadn't cured you. He just gave you the instructions to the antidote and you did the work all on your own. It was amazing.
Donatello took a deep breath and his brown/red eyes met your (e/c) eyes. "(Y/f/n)(Y/m/n)(Y/l/n), will you... uh.. will you.. be.. my girlfriend?" He asks hesitantly, breaking eye contact and blushing. "Y-You don't h-have to." He adds.
You blink a few times in shock, unable to say a word. You wanted to squeeze him and hug him and tell him yes, but you couldn't. You were too shocked. Someone actually like you in that way? You hadn't thought it would be possible. Worried Donnie would take your silence wrong, you move to make him look at you and nod your head up and down, unable to say anything.
"R-Really?" Donnie asks, eyes bright with joy. You nodded your head a few more times, and the next thing you knew Donnie was pulling you close to his plastron and mumbling things about how happy he was. You couldn't understand a lick of what he was saying, but his voice made you feel better.
That day was the day you had known that you would be fine. In the end, everything really would get better even if it meant dropping into Purgatory before you could crawl your way out. That is what made your success even more better. It didn't mean you forgot about those time, nor did you take them lightly, and anyone you found out who needed help, you helped. But it was all good. Things were going to be better. You had Donnie, and even without him you would be okay - he just made it better.
A/N: SO THIS TOOK FOREVER BUT I FINALLY FINSIHED IT SORRY IF IT SUCKS I TRIED GUYS. ALSO, I know that being suicidal doesn't exactly go like this. At one point in time I was there, and so I was trying to kind of write it and remember how I had felt and all, but I needed this to have a happy ending so I didn't have readers wanting to kill me for breaking their hearts haha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I will try to update sooner next time, but this is long for a reason.