My art for @sampsonknighttmnt's Halloween event! You can read the journal here and see what this is all about -> LINK
***
April was walking towards the barn, getting ready to say yes to Casey on the altar. Suddenly there was a sound of wind, everything spin in her eyes and she realized she no longer were at the farm house. She was in old small cemetery which she did not recognize.
"Welcome, my dear. I have been expecting you."
Turning her head to the side where familiar sound came from, April froze on her place breath turning cold as she saw familiar figure there with black eyes and crows sitting on him. Torch was the only light source with the moon in the middle of the misty place.
"Donnie?" She whispered. It couldn't be him since he was there at the barn with his brothers, waiting for her. The longer she stared into those empty black eyes the more she realized. Before she had a word out of her mouth April turned and ran. She ran, ran and ran, desperately seeking a way out. She called out for Casey and turtles but none heard her and the only one who she heard was Donatello. It sounded like his voice was in her head and yet echoing in the air, coming from all directions.
"April, my dear. Run all you want but know you will never find a way out. Only I can let you go - and I'm not intended to do so. You belong to me, not to Casey. You will spend eternity with me in this space between worlds and times. I will make you happy here, I promise."
Shaking her head she refused to listen to him so she kept running... Until her legs couldn't take another step. Leaning on her legs she panted hard while looking around, realizing that the view had not changed at all. She either had been running on her spot all this time or she was running a circle. No... This was a nightmare! Trapped in who-knows-where with this strange Donnie. She wanted to go back to Casey but that horrible realization sneaked in her mind when she was picked up in strong arms in bridal style, seeing those black eyes staring deep in hers. She was never going to be leaving this place. Donatello's cold words were the last thing to make her accept her destiny.
"You are mine, April."
Silent tears running down on her cheeks she pressed her head on his shoulder in exhaustion, whispering; "I'm yours."
***
Okay ~ So, I usually never don't do, or even like, any humanxturtle shipping but twisted Don with one-side love with April (Don loves, April keeps as a friend) as Halloween theme works! Hope you guys like this! :3
Reference used on April's pose and some images used as inspiration and reference to tombstones (because my original tombstones would all have been either square or round shaped :'D) Art with light effects under the cut!
Sometime back, after I had made the remark about Splinter being dead, I was looking around at a lot of DonxApril comics revolving around the 2k12 series.
Now let’s suggest for a minute that Don and April finally go out, as Apriltello fans would very much like to see happen. You are aware that with Master Splinter confirmed to be dead, there is no one except Donatello’s brothers that could protest him, right?
Don’t get me wrong, I think Master Splinter saw April like a daughter, but I have a feeling that if he was still alive, he wouldn’t approve of Don and April becoming romantically involved because of maturity. Yes, Donatello is smart, and April is mature on her own, but there’s too much around them and about themselves they have to work on before they are remotely ready for each other’s feelings. To top it all off, I don’t think Master Splinter has given them “the talk” yet...
Anyone else starting to see something wrong with no father figure concerning the romance between Donatello and April?
Set in the Love's Incipience series. 2k14 movie 'verse. A prequel, if you will.
Way before they were reunited with their hogosha and Donatello started feeling 'things' - a twelve year old Donatello could only imagine what the stars might look like beyond the pollution-tainted city skyline. An unexpected close encounter sows the deep-rooted seeds of something for now, unrealized.
Rated: K+ - Family/Romance - Words: 3,004
____________________________________________
“We do not create our destiny; we participate in its unfolding. Synchronicity works as a catalyst toward the working out of that destiny.”
Through the filth that hung in a miasma of pollution and the more distinct taint of despair, through the somewhat smudged lenses of his overly-large glasses, Donatello peered. And saw the stars. He marveled with a slightly gaping mouth at them; amber-brown eyes bright with awe. The stars, they were there, he knew, twinkling cheerfully in defiance to infinity. To death. Decaying in long lost cycles outside of the reach of man or any of his feeble dreams to race through the stretching empty expanse of space, but lasting still. Enduring, if only to shine for a little longer. For one last wish to be made before that delicate light was extinguished forever.
Raphael appeared from the side and gave him a nudge, nearly knocking him from the plastic crate he balanced upon the edge of; toes curled tight for extra support. He clutched at his textbook and frowned down at his younger brother. Though the ridges on their carapaces clearly marked Donatello as older by at least a year – and he argued often and persistently with Splinter that it was certainly closer to a two year difference, if one observed carefully, as he had utilizing mirrors; the extra line was clearly present – Raphael’s size and girth made it appear otherwise. If Donatello hadn’t had his growth spurt this past summer when he officially turned eleven, Raphael would have been taller as well.
Raphael gave Donatello another shove, less roughly, but just as annoying, with the meaty palms of his hands. “Move it,” Raph grouched.
He turned and wrinkled his nose trying to adjust his too-large glasses. They remained askew. He wiped his nose with a roll of his shoulder and sniffed in irritation; pushing up the glasses with the knuckles of his right hand. “Another minute. I almost think I can see one.”
Donnie shook his head. Raph’s face fell. Donnie pointed. The tip of one finger just poked between the wide metal grate. Raph rose up on tip-toe to see, disappointed but still curious. Then dropped back with a huff at his brother’s answer.
“No. I mean a star.”
He couldn’t see one or any of them, not really, not with his eyes. He could see them with his mind. Because he knew exactly where they’d be. He mapped their location based on the thick textbook he’d studied. The one he’d carried through the maze of tunnels, tucked securely beneath one sweaty armpit, brought from home. The pages were carefully folded to mark the important charts and diagrams that he’d been studying. He knew all the constellations by heart. Had hoped to catch a glimpse of even just a part of one this evening after Splinter had announced they’d be getting out of the lair for a little exercise. This alcove set back from the drainage tunnel was a favored spot for their father. And Donatello particularly loved it for the view through the grate.
“There ain’t no stars out, stupid. There’s no stars in the city,” Raphael said with a matter-of-fact voice. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “They’re only out in the ‘burbs . . . and farms, too. But those are all out west of Jersey.”
“Raph,” he started in exasperation, but stopped and decided to educate his dim-witted brother the best way he knew Raph would understand, by showing him a picture. Donatello moved the book out from under his arm. Carefully balancing it open on one small palm, he quickly flipped to the pages illustrating the constellation pattern which would be directly over the city at this time of year. He moved to show Raphael but his brother gave him a shove. He fumbled with the book, but held himself in place; balancing one arm against the cool metal below the storm grate.
“Stop it,” Donatello snapped.
“Get off. It’s my turn to look. Get off,” Raph insisted. He immediately turned to shoot a demanding plea for assistance at Leonardo. But he wasn’t looking at either of them; his shell was to them. He sat in the dirt, across the space from them, hunched over, cross-legged, cheeks propped by the heels of his hands, captivated and oblivious to Donatello hogging the best view through the drain’s barred opening. “Leo,” Raph barked, “make Donnie move.”
Leo remained fixed in place and deaf to his demand. He was watching his father intently with a slightly tipped head as Splinter worked through another strange set of motions in the wide alcove before him. Arms sweeping overhead, then brought back tightly against the sides of his body, his tail wiping from side to side only to fall still and rigid; legs parted wide with feet planted firmly on the cleared but dusty floor. Raphael frowned, trying to remember what Splinter had called it. Kittens. No. That’s what Mikey was always bringing home. Katas.
Mikey sidled up to Leo, arms held close to his mid-section. Within the cradle of his limbs, lay the two baby mice. He scooted until he teetered towards falling on top of Leonardo, stopping just before he did. Leo pushed against him for space with the side of his body and made a soft, irritated noise. Mikey paid him no mind. His face was trained on their father.
“Splinter can I please take these little guys ho—“
“No,” came the reply. Stern and firm. His voice boomed against the walls and faded to a faint ringing buzzing in each of their ears. Softer, then, but still firm: “No pets.”
Mikey’s shoulders slumped. He turned away; hobbled back to his corner, all the while murmuring apologies to the mice as he set first one, then the other down in a crumpled pile of newspapers.
Raph took in a breath, filling his chest as he puffed it outwards. “Donnie ain’t gettin’ outta the way!” Raph exclaimed, throwing his hands up. But neither Splinter nor Leo paid him any mind. His face darted between the two authority figures of his life; absolute and conditional, respectively. Raphael huffed. “Don’t ignore me!” Raph hollered louder, doing his best to imitate the roaring sweep of his father’s tone. No response. “This ain’t fair!” He kicked at the crate.
Donatello nearly toppled. His book slipped from his arm and clattered to the floor. “Stop it!”
“No! This sucks! You suck!”
“That is enough, Raphael,” this from Splinter as his body glided into a smooth series of twists. As he moved, he shot a glare in his son’s direction, making eye contact long enough for Raphael to duck his head.
“I’ll get down in a minute, I just wanted to see –“ His breath caught and the rest of the sentence was lost.
Raph turned to face Donnie who was back to gazing out the window again at stars that weren’t there. He brought his hands back to shove him as hard as he could when Mikey gave a little squeal from the corner.
“Raphie! Come lookit this pigeon! He’s so cute! And chubby! And I think he’s puking a little.”
Raphael froze. Torn between taking justice into his own hands and the allure of Mikey’s find. A pigeon! Those strange feathered creatures with bodies so tiny and delicate that you had to be extra careful not to hurt them when handling them. He knew how to do it right so they wouldn’t be harmed. He’d learned how to keep them safe when on the mend. He’d taken in more than a few injured birds in the past. Caring for them and keeping them safe in the hidden compartment just down the main passageway from the entrance to their home. Tiny feathers, soft and fragile. Tinier bones beneath the thin skin. Mikey was not careful.
“Don’t touch it!” Raph cried and hurried to his brother’s side. Unaware that his brother’s body language and silence signaled fright.
Donatello’s eyes turned to circles as a pair of boots clotted his view of the slip of sky between buildings. His body was frozen in place as the knees outside the grate bent and the very end of auburn locks drifted down as the human came even closer to where he stood; parted only by a few inches and the bars of the drain. He made a small inhaled hiss through his gritted teeth and inched back, afraid any move he made at this point would only catch her attention and yet, at the same time, he found himself riveted; unable to move. Not wanting to, actually, but wanting to see the face the silken strands of hair belonged to.
The angle she was posed at did not allow him to see much beyond the jeans and tan boots she was wearing. His knees bent a bit and he tipped his head forward, trying to get a better look in spite of the way his heart hammered and his palms grew slick against the bricks. He was just as curious about humans as Raph or Mikey and it was rare that they got a glimpse of one without Splinter pulling them out of sight before they got much of a look. His smudged glasses fogged as he jumped and gasped softly at the sound of another human close by.
A female voice called out from behind the woman crouching in front of the grate, but it wasn’t addressing him. Small relief, but he took what he could get. And still he did not move from the spot, but instead tried to dip a little more to see better.
“April,” a woman’s voice said, “what are you . . . for goodness sake. Why do you do that?”
“What?”
The human had not moved away from the grate. And when she spoke, the sound of her voice was at once familiar and musical. It brought within him a keen jolt of homesickness that he couldn’t understand. His heart sped. His mind scattered. It was as though he’d gotten a whiff of a scent that brought a flood of mismatched and fragmented memories. Nothing substantial emerged from the deluge but the sharp yearning for home. Donatello blinked rapidly from behind his glasses. Holding his breath. Listening.
“You know. Peek in the sewers like a-a . . . well, like a weirdo. Every time we’re in this neighborhood. What exactly are you expecting to see down there?”
There was an oddly tense moment of silence between the women that had Donatello perplexed. He tilted his head slightly to one side, eyes scanning the lines and cracks of the bricks, the water stains and pock marks. Wondering. And an odd, slick sense of fear worked its way down the back of his neck. A paranoia; a sudden flash of vulnerability; a feeling of being watched, which was ridiculous, because she hadn’t spotted him. She couldn’t know he was there. All he had to do was slip back right off the crate into the surrounding shadows of the tunnel and she’d never know. She’d never guess she had a witness to this conversation.
Right?
Then why did he feel as if she was precisely aware of his presence all of a sudden? Donatello eased back but then froze as the young woman cleared her throat. He couldn’t leave; his natural sense of curiosity overriding logic.
There was an irritated sound from the older woman. Then, “We’re late for your uncle Augie’s birthday party. Lord knows he’s probably already started without us.” The last words came out with a clipped tone.
“I’m not peeking in the sewers, I’m, uh . . .”
Donatello held his breath as the toes of the boots shifted and a pale hand came down to brush at the end of one. There was a gold ring on one finger. He barely got a glimpse of what looked like hands holding a cup when the hand moved out of sight.
“I’m just fixing up my shoes. I got a, uh, a scuff when I got out of the taxi.”
There was a huff of laughter, sounding oddly strained but also relieved. “Really, April. I know adolescents care about their appearance, but this is a little much.”
“I’m hardly an adolescent, Auntie, I’m turning eighteen in three months. That’s officially an adult.”
“Right,” her aunt replied. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, let’s go!”
Donatello relaxed as the boots shifted and the legs straightened. But at the same time he felt bereft of losing out on seeing the face that belonged to the human who’d made him feel so many strange things in such a short span of time. Just as he made to move from the crate, though, he froze in shock as her whispering urgent voice drifted through the bars behind him.
“I promised I’d never forget you guys. I hope you’re all okay. Somewhere. Leo, Raphie, Mikey and Donnie.”
He gave a start of fright. His legs jumbled and kicked as the crate tipped and then upended. He fell back onto his shell with a crack and a loud grunt of surprise and pain. His glasses clattered to the ground near his head.
Leonardo twisted around and Splinter hurried to his side, skittering gracefully around Leonardo to crouch by his side; placing a warm paw against his face and head, testing the skin, looking for injury.
“Are you all right, my son?”
He couldn’t find his voice. Couldn’t breathe. His eyes rolled around and he trembled and shook until Splinter eased him up to sitting. He draped an arm across his shivering shoulders.
“My son, what is wrong?”
Mikey and Raph were soon hovering just behind Leonardo who stood by, holding Donatello’s glasses carefully between his thumbs and fingers. All of them looking concerned, worried and questioning. A small bird cradled in Raphael’s hands. Mikey’s eyes were huge and scared. He didn’t want to scare anyone. He shook his head. His mouth opened and closed and he continued to utter only half-words and strained tiny grunts.
“Be still, my son. Be still. Breathe.”
A tremor ran through him, leaving goose bumps along his arms. He took in a breath and released it. The panic ebbed as his father stroked his face and kneaded the tops of his shoulders with his fingertips. He took in another breath and released it. Better. He glanced around and felt his face burn with embarrassment. He was being silly. He couldn’t have heard her right. He must have imagined it. Still, he glanced over his shoulder at the opening and gave one last shudder before he relaxed.
“I-I’m sorry,” he croaked.
Splinter gazed up towards the grate, following the line of his son’s earlier glance. His amber eyes gleaming; considering. They swept from Donatello to his other children before alighting once more on the opening to the street above. He stood, pulling Donatello along with him, but keeping his boy close and under one arm. He seemed calmer now. Leonardo offered the glasses to Donatello and he slipped them on with a nod of thanks. Leo smiled at him reassuringly.
Splinter scooped up his son’s textbook. He turned with Donatello again under one arm to move down the tunnel. He ushered the other boys alongside him.
“Let us leave this place.”
As they made their way back to the lair, Splinter continued to glance every so often at Donatello. A question in his eyes, but one unspoken. At last, just outside their home, he turned to him and gazed at him carefully.
“Did you see something out in the night, Donatello?”
He shook his head, determined to forget the entire episode.
Raphael came up, still carrying the injured bird so carefully in his cupped hands. “He was looking at a star,” Raph said gruffly and when he noticed Splinter gazing at the bird he ducked his head. Hastily he blurted, “It’s hurt! And . . . I won’t bring it inside. I swear.”
Splinter sighed and nodded his assent. Raphael grinned, widely and joyfully, and hurried off to wherever he kept the others, that secret makeshift animal hospital which Splinter was well aware of and tolerated only because the animals remained outside of their home. If he didn’t keep it that way, between Michelangelo and Raphael’s soft-hearted nature towards wounded mice, rats and pigeons, their home would soon be overrun.
He turned back to Donatello who stood by quiet and contemplative.
“Is that what you saw, my son? A star?”
Donatello wrinkled his nose, adjusting his glasses. They remained askew. He shrugged, looking ahead through the entrance of their home, into the lair, already thinking about the set of rocket scooters he was in the midst of inventing before Splinter called them all out for the walk and exercise.
“I’m not really sure, father.”
Splinter hemmed, and gave him a pat on the back of his shell. He handed his son the book. “Well, maybe one day it will become clear.”
I was wondering what your opinion on what Donnie (2014) sees in April that causes him to love her be it in a friend way or otherwise. What does April see in Donnie that makes her love him?
Disclaimer: lol, you asked and I'll spill. Of course, this is just my opinion and my vision for the series I'm writing and everyone is open to his/her own opinion which I respect. If you want to read a long ramble on Don and April's feelings for each other, on the nature of love as I see it...well tuck in . . .
I mean, he's just going about his life and trying to help people and then BAMMO he and his family are attacked, beaten, threatened, humiliated, experimented on, nearly shot, chased, put horrific pressure - um, end of the world and here's Donnie once again having to FIX IT NAOW - his home is destroyed, his father nearly killed, everything safe and secure is uprooted - everything Splinter warned them about the outside world pretty much has come true - and once the dust settles and he can catch his breath - he realizes that this woman, this gorgeous, wonderful, kind and intelligent woman is now a part of their lives. She accepts them. She knows their collective history and is a key part of it. And it sort of awakens everything within him that for most people happen over the course of late childhood through young adulthood all at once, lol So, it's kind of a mega crash of hormones and emotions.
So, initially it is based on physical attraction and the endearing aspect of this woman knowing intimate details about his life and not judging he and his brothers for what they look like that brings his heart's attention to her.
But then, he starts to see who she really is: witty and sharply intelligent, playful and optimistic. He learns what she is trying to make of herself and the world - why she became a reporter, what she wanted out of life and how she's dealing with the life she's been given, it all starts to add up to the love of his life.
And slowly, her goals become his goals. He wants her to achieve them, he wants to help her, however he can to attain her dreams and wants only for her to accept his friendship and possibly, later, much later when he's ready to admit it to himself, his love. If she'd only accept it.
It's all he can give her. His loyalty, his heart, his soul. It's all a man can give to a woman who has no material possessions and to me, it is the truest, purest form of romantic love. To give wholly of yourself - to sacrifice all for the person you love - to set aside your desires for theirs. It's the way men love, when they really, really love a woman.
-----
April, in my 2k14 stories, sees this incredible, impossible being. She is initially shocked at his and his brothers' appearances, but that soon gives way to the amazement of what unique and rare beings they are. The privilege she's been given just in knowing them.
She notices Don in the background, so shy and yet so capable, but keeping out of the spotlight. Partly due to his introverted nature, but also because he enjoys solitude and study. He enjoys the quiet, the calm. And this speaks directly to the chaos that April's felt throughout her entire life.
The terrible feeling of missing her father, that patient, kind man. So intelligent and gentle.... so yes, there are aspects to Donatello's personality that are somewhat paternal: his patience and meticulous nature in the lab to name two, and these character traits make April feel safe and secure. They give her frantic heart a place of peace and comfort. Don doesn't even know he has this effect on her. He is completely oblivious to how his spirit draws April to him. Would deny the fact should it be brought to his attention. Because it's simply impossible to imagine for him.
But her frustrations at work, her irritation and struggle to do what she wanted with her life only to continue being side-tracked by other people's demands on her, the unfairness and unpredictability of life that's brought her to this point...Donatello is a balancing force for her. Despite being completely out of sync with everything anyone might coin as 'normal' - that is exactly what he gives to her. Normality. A leveling out. And she finds herself drawn to him again and again for that feeling of peace he brings from deep inside of herself.
Slowly, she starts to realize that these feelings mean something more than simple friendship, that she wants to make him happy, somehow. She wants to fill that gap in his life and be for him the light that is denied him for what he is on the outside.
And his goals become her goals. She wants to know how to bring him satisfaction in life. She wants to be the one he turns to when it's too hard, too exhausting, too full of sorrow so that she can soothe away his worry and be the soft place for him to fall. If only he'd accept her love. Because she wants to give him all of herself. Forever. And what more can a woman give a man whom she loves above all else?
Oh, these two crazy kids. They are doomed to continually get in their own way - but eventually, something tells me, they'll figure things out and have a happy ending. How'd I do?
I'd love to see you write a fic on the first time Donnie saw April cry.
You want tears? How about right after the Mutation Situation where April's father is turned into the bat mutant.
Rated K+ Hurt/Comfort
Summary: The first time he saw her cry he vowed would be the last. Ever resourceful, Donatello uses the tremendous ache her tears cause within him as singular motivation. He will never make her cry again.
What the Heart Cannot Endure, it Sheds
It wasn't like the movies, where the girl collapsed into tearful sobs, hiding her face away with her palms, at once ashamed and embarrassed at the display; unable to control herself once the dam broke; eventually falling into the arms of the one nearest to her, usually the love interest, who just happened to be at hand; or a beloved gal pal who understood better than the jerk who caused the outburst to begin with; no.
Donatello's words were choked and half-formed as she pushed him aside, storming away without a glance back. Dismissing him and his excuses; ignoring the feeble apologies tumbling from between his numb lips. Leaving him and his brothers to stand in the hollow of their failure; unable to make it better. Unable to take back the tears she shed because of them.
Because of him.
* * *
Exhaustion warred with the giddy rush of astonishment as he scrambled to the scene. Beneath the tarp, the lump struggled and moaned. Within Donatello, his heart was a rapidly firing piston. If the retro-mutagen was a failure, all his effort, all his promises would amount to nothing.
April hurried to stand beside him; holding her breath and so tense he could feel it coming off her. He wanted to wrap his arm around her, to steady her, to offer words of comfort and reassurance; but he couldn't risk it. Because, what if he missed something. What if he was a failure yet again? His throat bobbed as it tightened. He wouldn't be able to stand more tears. He couldn't deal with the desperate disappointment so carefully veiled beneath her recent support any longer. It had to work. It had to.
When her father's hand, human and fully functioning, popped through the material of the tarp, followed by a normal, if not utterly shocked, human head, April cried out and flung her arms around her father.
The bubbling laugh of relief erupted from him, involuntarily. Cut off by the sight of her face as she turned to look at him; eyes tearful and streaming freely; beaming with gratitude and happiness.
He'd made her cry, again. And the thing lodged in his chest all this time melted so suddenly, the weight of it dissipating so immediately, that he pitched forward and had to lean upon his staff so as not to fall on his face in the street.
Head low between his shoulders as he caught his breath, overwhelmed with relief and shaky from the long trail that got him to this point; he felt the hands of his brothers clapping him on the arms and shell, congratulating him. He heard the questions from Kirby and the jittery laughter from Casey and April as they rambled on and on about getting home and getting him dressed.
When he looked up, his eyes were glassy and wet. And he was never happier.
Writing fluffy, happy DonxApril messing around in that last chapter of Tender Trap III as really put me in the mood for more...XD maybe I'll kick out another 2k14 Apritello story ...though I have about 3 windows open detailing various medical and psychological issues with people coping with amputations for Love's Causality....hurt him or love him....hurt him or love him....that is the question of the morning!
theherocomplex you shared a LeoxKarai song with me...now you have to listen to this one. This is painfully beautiful. You too, hotmilkytea and anyone else reading GaVG!!
'I could have been
So many things
But it would never be enough for you
I was the one
You counted on
But I was never the one for you
Now I know, I lost you a long time ago
City of strangers
Out of danger
In your arms, I was half awake, half asleep
Grab ahold to what I got
Regretting all that I'm not
I couldn't be the one who'd stand by your side
If it was all a mistake
Then I guess we're both to blame
I could have been
So many things
But it would never be enough for you.'
/So, yeah. I'm crying over here. This is your April x Donnie, Bee. This is them. WAAAAAH!
Inspired, in part, by the song, Give Your Heart a Break, by Demi Lovato
One Shot - Rated T - approx. 6,000 words
Summary: Sometimes it's necessary to change oneself before expecting the world to change for you. Irma learns self-respect is the quickest way to becoming visible.
She sat on the stool, giving him the space she knew he needed whenever he’d be wrapped up in a project. She watched him with rapt attention despite knowing that for the past hour and until his little project was done, he would say nothing to her other than the rare and wonderful request for a tool that remained out of reach, which she’d readily retrieve for him, eager to catch his eye, grinning with what she hoped was a smile that was both seductive and welcoming. But as it was most days, all his tools were prearranged before him; set out carefully across the surface of the metal work table. So, she was left to stare and hope. Which was good enough for her. Just being in his presence was a miracle, really. She was the luckiest girl in the universe.
“Donnie, she’s here!”
Irma jumped and nearly fell from the stool. She righted herself as Mikey bounded into the room on the balls of his toes. He shot her a grin and laced his fingers behind his head as he strolled up behind his brother and peered over his shoulder. “Aw, dude, is that her present? Lemme see!”
Don carefully turned the delicate tool off and set it in the special brace to keep the heated tip from the surface of the table. Several scorch marks proved he’d forgotten to do this simple safety measure more than once. He twisted in his chair to look over his shoulder at Michelangelo and the thin chain caught the edge of his elbow padding. She lunged forward and caught the jewelry before it fell. She held it up to him.
“Oops,” she said with a half-hearted shrug. “You don’t want this to fall on the floor.”
He didn’t notice until Mikey nudged him. He did a double take and then flipped his goggles up and snapped them against his forehead. He squinted at her for a moment as though he’d forgotten she’d been sitting next to him for the past two and a half hours.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” he said absentmindedly as he hooked it with one finger and then carefully attached the completed locket, threading the chain through the tiny loop at the top of the metal, hinged heart.
“Nice save, Irma!” Mikey clapped appreciatively and then to Don, asked, “Does it open?”
He practically laid his entire weight against Donatello’s shell as he looked closer at the gift over his brother’s shoulder. His breath perfumed the space between his mouth and Donatello’s with a stomach churning pepperoni, jelly bean and peanut butter aroma. He ignored Don’s scowl and wrinkling of his nose. “Like for her to put your picture in there?” he added with a snigger. Donnie rolled his shoulder roughly and knocked Mikey back.
“Yes,” he snapped, then catching himself, he corrected, “No. She can use it however she wants. It’s just nice to have a receptacle for an image that she’d wished to keep close to her heart. An image of whomever she may choose. Her father . . . a friend.” He said with a mumble and another shrug, “Whomever.”
Neither boy noticed Irma’s face then, a brittle smile frozen in place, but the color draining away with the exchange. They turned in unison as a gruff and all too familiar male voice filled the lair. The hearty greeting boomed and echoed, bouncing into the lab like an unwanted relative shuffling in with luggage and the exclamation that they’re moving in. Donnie frowned and groaned, dropping his face into one palm. He looked up and shot Mikey an angry look.
“Hey,” Mikey said and stepped back with hands raised in surrender. “I didn’t invite him. It was probably Raph. You know how much he loves the guy,” he chuckled and covered his mouth, shooting her a quick glance and making a mock kiss-y face between his palms. “True love! I know it when I see it!” He broke out laughing and slapped his thigh.
Recovering from their earlier exchange, her smile warmed to something more natural. “You better not let Raph hear you say that.” She wagged a finger in Mikey’s direction then adjusted her glasses higher up onto the bridge of her nose.
She’d only known the brothers for little more than a year, but she’d come to feel she understood the family dynamic of this unique clan and every day she fell a little more in love with each of them. One in particular, more than the others. Unfortunately, he seemed intent on being blind to her many hints and painfully obvious attempts to garner any attention from him whatsoever. If his brothers took any notice, no one had said a word to her. She was not much more than April’s quirky friend to them. And that was okay, for a while, because it was amazing just having the chance to be part of this unique group.
But then she started to notice how she felt whenever she was around the brainy mutant. The way her heart would pinch if he’d so much as glance at her was the first sign that her friendship for him was changing. It was a gradual development that felt permanent, like a glacier cutting through terrain, leaving the eternal scarring that would forever shape the land behind. The few times he shot her that perfectly imperfect smile, she thought she’d melt. She’d made a lame joke about global warming once and he’d laughed; she’d run into the bathroom to catch her breath and stared into the cracked mirror. Oh boy, this is trouble, don’t get ahead of yourself, girl. He may not even like human girls, she remembered thinking. How wrong she was! Unfortunately, for her.
She found herself thinking of him constantly. He was so intelligent, she couldn’t get over it. He was the smartest person she’d ever met in her life. It was as though his mind never took a break. He was constantly coming up with ideas and inventions to make their humble lives more comfortable. She loved to listen to him talk, whether it was about reconfiguring circuitry for a new security system or upgrades to the Shellraiser’s engines and weaponry, she couldn’t get enough of his sweet voice, the way it would crack and break whenever April was around made her smile and the first spears of something like jealousy shot through her stomach. His not-so-secret crush on her friend became painfully clear in short time. When she tried to bring the situation up with April, her friend brushed it off as nothing. Just Don being a goof. Irma never thought of him as anything other than a genius with a heart of gold. Because he was wonderful and so good.
Not only that, he was sensitive and caring with his family and such a good friend to April. And he really cared for her. It was too bad April didn’t notice. Because if he’d shown her that same look, that look with so much tender longing and fragile hope, it would not go ignored. Never. He was amazing. In every possible way. Irma knew if given the chance, he would live the rest of his life knowing just how special he was, how important and wonderful. But if past experience was any indication of the trajectory of this romance, it was doomed from the start.
It had been the same story for her played out over and over, nothing new here. She’d crush on a boy, the boy would not realize that she even existed and then the boy would inexplicitly fall in love with one of her friends who constantly hung around them. How it was that the boys she fell for were blind to all but her own presence, she couldn’t figure out. It was a mystery beyond even her cognitive abilities to unravel. Here, at least, she’d thought she’d fallen for someone who’s opportunities would be so limited that it simply wouldn’t be possible for it to happen again. And yet, here she was, playing second fiddle to her friend. It was more than discouraging. It was downright unfair.
Mikey shrugged and draped one arm with easy comradery over her shoulders, bringing her back to the present. “Too bad it’s not true, then Donnie wouldn’t have to compete with Casey for April’s love,” he sang the last word, stepped back from Irma who couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. He continued drawing the word out as he interlaced his fingers and stuck his hands under one side of his chin, blinking rapidly then falling into obnoxious chuckling as he twirled on one foot.
Donatello shot him a murderous look and Irma’s face fell back to the earlier ashen green. She didn’t want to hurt Don’s feelings. But the source of his hurt was a prick of cactus spikes in her heart. He coiled the necklace into the small hinged box, lined with velvet and snapped it shut. Deftly, he wrapped the box in a small purple ribbon, tying it into a limp bow. He marched out of the room with Mikey on his heels.
“What? You know it’s true. Too bad you can’t whip up some potion to make the guy disappear. Nah, she’d just fall for him as the invisible man, then. Sorry, bro.”
“Shut up, Mikey.”
Luckily for Donatello, Michelangelo’s attention shifted to greeting April. “Hey, April! Happy Birthday, girl!” Mikey squealed. “Master Splinter, is it presents time? Wait ‘til you see what I got you, April! Oh man, and just wait ‘til you see what poor Donnie – OUCH! Not cool, Don!”
Irma took a deep breath and steadied herself. She slid from her seat and entered the room with measured steps. She loved April. Had known her since middle school and had been good friends with her since then. They’d drifted for a time just before April introduced her to the turtles, and Irma learned that April had gone through a lot in the year that she feared their friendship was coming to an end. Once she understood the reasons for April’s avoidance, she forgave everything and vowed to never allow April to go through anything on her own again. April promised to never keep secrets from her. Things were good between them. She didn’t feel angry at her friend for Donatello’s preference, she didn’t blame April for not returning that affection. She just wished that things were different. If April would just explain to Donatello that she wasn’t interested, then maybe he’d give up and move on. Then, in time, maybe he’d start to notice her a little more. But whenever she broached the topic with April, she grew irritated and changed the subject. Irma sighed. The last thing she wanted was for any kind of fight or misunderstanding to come between her and April. Not even over Donatello. Still, if April would just let him go . . .
“Hey, Irma!”
April waved and she hugged Irma with a warm embrace as she approached the kitchen where everyone was gathered. Several small packages covered the table with a large, oddly shaped cake taking up the center of the surface.
Casey came up behind April and grinned at Irma. He reared back and scrunched up his nose. “Geez, Irma, you decide to move in down here?”
“Wh-What? No. I just . . . I wanted to see if Don, er, if they needed help setting up,” she sputtered, tugging at the cuff of one sleeve.
Raphael narrowed his eyes. “You tryin’ to say there’s somethin’ wrong with living where we do?”
Casey’s grin widened. He brushed his hand across his face and indicated with a slight nod in Irma’s direction. “Nah, Raph. But the smell tends to linger. Phew!”
Irma’s face reddened and she eased a little ways away from the table as April sat and Raph and Casey punched each other in the arm and feigned more boxing moves. They stopped as Master Splinter motioned for April to begin opening presents. She reached for the first bundle, wrapped with care. It was from Leonardo.
Inside, she unraveled an oblong light blue scarf that uncoiled and rolled to the floor. The stitches were uneven and a few strands stuck up where he’d tried to weave the ends of the yarn within the scarf to hide where a ball had ended and another began.
April’s eyes widened as her thumbs worked along the scratchy knitting. “Leo! It’s fantastic!”
Raph frowned and Casey started to laugh behind his hand, barely able to conceal his mirth. “Since when do you knit?” Raph asked in disbelief and something like disgust. All eyes suddenly turned to the young leader in blue.
Leo stood a little straighter, eyes darting around. “April taught me. To help with the, uh, stress. N-Not that I have any, being leader,” his face shot to Master Splinter who was regarding him carefully, face blank. “I enjoy the stress of leading! I-I mean,” he chuckled nervously, only making things worse, “I don’t have any stress! I just like knitting! Well . . . It’s relaxing! Not that I need to relax!” He dissolved into more painful chuckling until he finally cleared his throat several times.
“Happy birthday, April,” he said quickly and dropped his eyes to furiously study his fingers gripping the back of a chair with light green knuckles, face crimson. The room sat in silence broken only by Casey Jones who continued to guffaw, now on the floor behind April and Raphael shook his head with a sneer.
“Fearless, we gotta talk,” he mumbled and turned to give April his gift.
It was hastily wrapped in newspaper and twine. The twine had been wound over and around the package several hundred times. It took April ten minutes to saw through it with the kitchen shears. Leo was still too flustered to offer to cut it for her with his swords and Raph decided that it was a birthday custom for the one celebrating to have to struggle with the present on their own. The longer it took, the better the present it contained, apparently. At least, that’s what Raphael continued to insinuate as April wiped the sweat from her brow.
When the outer wrapping was conquered, she dug through the layers of newspaper stuffed into the shoe box, she found at the bottom, a canister of mace, brass knuckles and beneath that, a pink fuzzy journal tied with a black satin ribbon. She lifted the journal from the box, ran her fingers over the soft texture of the cover and ribbon and stared in wonder from it to Raph.
He smiled then shrugged. “Well, yeah. Uh, whatever, happy birthday. You like it, right? It’s good to have somethin’ to write in. About feelings and stuff. I dunno. Girls like pink. And fuzzy stuff,” he added slowly and looked around at the stunned faces staring back at him. He started to get more defensive and continued to explain his choice of the pink journal. “What.”
He glanced around at Casey’s smirk and Mikey’s brows raising higher and higher. Leo continued to blink down at his fingers looking either terribly constipated or lost in deep focused thought and Donatello continued to shuffle from one foot to the next as though he were listening to music only he could hear. Irma opened her mouth to suggest that the gift was a perfect choice, but before she could, he went on.
“Girls like pink, okay? And fuzzy crap and talking about their problems. Am I wrong?”
Mikey, could not resist and with a bubbling burst of laughter said, “I guess you’d know, Raphie.”
He deftly dropped into the splits as Raph’s fist came around and jumped up. He skittered with a yelp around the table. “I’m sorry!” He ran behind Master Splinter then peeked out from behind him. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, Raph. Maybe you’d like to write about them in your pink furry journal.”
“Enough, Michelangelo,” Splinter snapped and eyed his youngest with disapproval.
Mikey immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, Sensei,” he said from behind his hand. He studiously ignored his fuming brother and the sound of his teeth grinding as he leaning over and slid his gift to April.
It, too, was wrapped in newspaper, but the paper had been painted over with a thick coating of bright yellow paint. The stench of acrylic paint filled the air around them. As she opened it, the paint flaked and sprinkled the table, her lap and the floor in various sized chips. Some tiny flakes went up her nose and she choked and sneezed. Inside was a stack of index cards. Each had something written on them.
“One free hug. One free game night choice. One free movie choice. One free pizza topping choice,” she read and smiled at Mikey.
“Happy birthday,” he said and ran over and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. Donatello stiffened momentarily and then continued to fidget and look a complete nervous wreck. Irma’s heart hurt for him.
Master Splinter bowed low and handed April a small rectangular gift. Carefully wrapped in tissue paper, she peeled it away and said, “You didn’t have to get me anything, Master Splinter. All the training you’ve given me has been more than enough.”
He inclined his head but said nothing more.
Inside was a silken bookmark. Meticulously penned kanji ran down the length of it. She looked up at him in wonder.
“Treasured one,” Splinter said softly.
April jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. The turtles looked on with expressions of happiness touched with sadness as their sensei embraced the girl that had in so many ways come to represent what he’d lost in his life, what he’d once hoped to regain only to lose again. He braced one hand against her head, tightened his hold for a moment and then released her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, tears in her eyes as she eased back into her seat.
Splinter merely nodded, emotion had stolen all of his words.
“Wow. That’s great,” Casey said in his booming voice just as Donatello wavered between stepping forward and ruining the tender moment between his sensei and April and remaining where he was. His face darted towards Casey. He stared at him with a scowl. “Now lemme give you my gift!”
Donatello winced as the boy practically hollered in April’s face. April seemed not to notice, in fact, she positively glowed with anticipation. With a wide smile, he produced a small hinged box with a garish polka-dotted bow tied around it. A box eerily similar in size and shape to the one he held behind his back with one hand. His throat grew dry and his palms suddenly became sweaty. His stomach decided to do odd calisthenics and his legs suddenly became weak, as if he were balancing on pasta al dente.
April pushed at Casey with one elbow, playfully. “It better not be an eyeball or something gross like that prank you pulled on me and Irma the other day,” she warned and the both of them laughed at the memory.
Irma chuckled and it was forced. They had gone to get ice cream after spending the afternoon studying in the park with Casey. He’d said he found a ring that had the biggest emerald on it that he’d ever seen and before he was going to take it to the police, he wanted to show the girls. They had gathered in close and when Casey opened the box, held right up under their noses, an enormous hideous beetle had sprung out. Luck ever at Irma’s side, the creature landed directly on the left lens of her glasses and clung there desperately as she ran in a circle screaming. Much to the amusement of both Casey and April.
“You mean, hilarious prank I pulled on you two chickens,” he laughed, but Donatello noticed the boy had immediately grown pink and settled down as April opened the box.
There was a soft gasp. With shaking fingers, April gently removed the locket from the box and held it up for inspection. Her mouth hung open as the engraved roses on the surface of the heart caught the light and sparkled. Everyone cooed with appreciation, impressed. Irma’s eyes snapped to where Donatello stood, looking as though he’d just woken up from a terrible dream and wasn’t sure if it was really over or not.
“Casey,” April breathed.
Raph made a teasing noise and Casey shot him a look that shut him up instantly. Mikey looked from April to Casey to Raph, then as if just remembering, he turned to Donatello. Slowly, he raised his hand to his gaping mouth, the other one rose up to point at his brother. Donatello caught the action and began furiously making signs for Mikey to keep quiet. Mikey started to bounce up and down on his toes. Next to him Master Splinter and Casey were trying to figure out how to make the clasp work to fix the necklace around April’s neck. Every time Casey’s fingers came into contact with Master Splinter’s he jumped and chuckled, doing his best to suppress a shudder.
“Uh, sorry. Um, maybe if you just, nah, nevermind, oh sorry.” The boy shivered again.
“Ohhhh, my god,” Mikey choked out in one long syllable as Donatello’s expression melted from panic to horrified helplessness. He was doomed. Splinter turned to see what was wrong with his rambunctious son just as Irma grabbed Mikey’s arm and wheeled him out of the kitchen.
“Mikey, I just remembered something I wanted to tell you about that new comic you were hoping I’d pick up for you!” Her voice rose hoarse and much too high in pitch. But it did the trick.
Instantly distracted, he piped up, “Justice Team number forty-nine!? Did it come in?!”
Behind them, the moment wore on.
“This is . . . beautiful! Casey! What? I don’t deserve this! How did you afford this?! This is the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever been given. I love hearts! How did you know?!”
April went on and on, firing off exclamations and gushing over his gift as she petted the necklace and the heart-shaped locket around her neck. Casey ducked his head and nodded, brushing away her compliments and mumbling how it was nothing really and that he’d been saving for a while and wanted something really special. Because she was so awesome and deserved it. And oh, the best part was that if she looked there was a space inside to put a photo if she was wanting to.
Leo and Raph were admiring the silver locket and the amazing feat that Casey had done by acquiring it with his father heaping on the praise as well as he took first one jellied step backwards and then the next; finding the further he got away from the scene in the kitchen the stronger his legs seemed to become and the quicker he was able to move.
By the time he got into the lab, leaning against the closed door, he was breathless as though he’d just run a marathon. By the time April had left with her gifts, and her friends, never noticing his absence or his missing contribution to her stack of presents, he’d recovered just enough breath to dry heave in the small waste basket under his work table where he huddled in misery for the past hour. A gentle rapping at his laboratory door had him crawling swiftly out from under the table, kicking the empty can back in place with one heel.
“Yeah, come in,” he muttered, wiping his chin where a line of spittle had draped itself during his stomach’s attempts at cartwheels. He expected it to be Mikey, to rub it in his face how much a disaster this afternoon had turned into. He steeled himself to act as though he was perfectly fine with the situation. He tried to put an uninterested look on his face but only managed to look slightly pained from gas.
Irma walked in, pulling at the cuff of one of her sleeves dangling over her hand. It was a nervous habit that he’d noticed she would do from time to time when she was fretting over some test or achievement she was required to do in gym class. Master Splinter had given her the over-sized sweater to wear over her clothes when she came visiting. The sewers had a tendency to run cold and without fail, she wore it every single time she was down there.
He was surprised to see her, thinking she had left with April and Casey. At least it wasn’t Mikey. He straightened up and folded one arm over the other, resting his chin in the crook of his thumb and forefinger, wondering why she was there.
“Uh, I thought you’d gone.”
She shook her head and gave him a strange smile that looked more like an apology than anything else. He felt a flash of anger at the perceived pity and turned his shell to her. He didn’t need this. Not now. He stared down at the work table where the collected tools of his three days of working on April’s gift had been laid out and organized. They seemed to wink at him from under the harsh work light suspended just above. He felt an irrational urge to sweep everything from the surface of the table and punch the brick wall above it. Instead, he poured his irritation out towards the girl he sensed inching her way across the floor towards him.
“You should go,” he snapped coldly. He felt her jump. Remorse instantly curdled his anger into something like rancid pudding in the center of his boiling stomach. His shoulders slumped. None of this was Irma’s fault. “I’m sorry.” He paused and fingered the handle of a tiny screwdriver. “I’m just tired.”
“I know,” she said and came to stand just next to him.
He shook his head and smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. She caught the bitterness as he flashed his face in her direction for a moment before looking away, staring back down at his tools. She waited. Hoped that he’d open up to her, both afraid to hear what he had to say and knowing that he needed someone to talk to. It would hurt, but she’d be there for him.
“I worked three days on that locket.” His fingers curled into loose fists on the table top. He sighed. “It was junk anyway.”
“No,” she protested.
He waved her response away. “Salvaged sterling that was only a cheap alloy, not the real thing. Rescued from a pile of trash at the dump. Junk. Nothing but junk.” He indicated all his tools and the rest of his lab with one hand, not looking at her; his words laced with an unfamiliar bitterness.
She said nothing. Felt a wave of sadness for the situation this brilliant person found himself mired in.
“Still,” he shook his head again and tossed the tiny screwdriver down on top of another tool. “Who would’ve guessed?” He chuckled again but it was hollow. “What could be the statistical odds of this happening? That he’d get her nearly the exact same thing, except . . . not made out of garbage.”
“The probable odds? I’d say very nearly improbable.”
She crossed her arms and tried to think of something clever to ease his hurt, coming up with nothing. Only wanting to tell him that she didn’t deserve three days effort and work, making something obsolete into something delicate and lovely. April wouldn’t have appreciated it anyway. He wouldn’t want to hear that, though.
He huffed. “Turtle luck,” he mumbled.
“What?”
He glanced at her again. “Nothing. No really, I’m sorry. You should just . . . go.”
“You’re tired,” she supplied.
“Yes.”
“Of being overlooked. Constantly overshadowed by someone else.”
He winced at that and stiffened and she was immediately sorry she’d opened her mouth. The air shifted and there was nothing like comradery in the room between them, nothing that even resembled friendship. She’d blown it. She just had to open her stupid mouth. No wonder she failed time and again at starting relationships. She was supposed to be smart, but it turned out that she was just an idiot. These words, so foolishly chosen, revealed that she knew all about what he was going through. She’d meant them to show that she understood, but instead, they merely served to illustrate his shame, his humiliation and she had to just say them out loud. Her stomach clenched and fluttered and she moved away from the table, pulling at the cuff of her sleeve.
“I shouldn’t have, uh, I didn’t mean that . . . Ugh. Sorry,” she mumbled and he said nothing.
She backed up some more and turned away. Just as she reached the handle of the lab door he spoke.
“Wait.”
She turned around to find him standing in the center of the room, holding the box that was meant for April, the box that held the heart locket with a little space inside where he’d hoped in his secret heart that she might place a tiny picture of him inside and keep it next to her heart. Irma stepped forward, staring at the gift that was never going to be given. Except now, to her.
“Why don’t you take this? I don’t want three day’s work to go to waste,” he said hesitantly.
She stared at the little box, the angle he held it in reminded her strangely of a tiny coffin, she imaged the tiny silver heart inside as her own locked away within. She weighed what it would mean to accept this from him. What it would say to him about what she’d be willing to accept. What it would mean for any hope of a future with him other than simply one built on friendship, shaky friendship, but better than nothing, right? Right?
She did her best not to think what it meant that he was standing there offering her this gift that was made with loving detail and tender effort; meant for someone else; someone who would not have appreciated it the way she would have had it been given to her under any other circumstance. That he’d offer this to her without a thought of what it was saying as far as what he thought of her. How desperate must she seem?
Tears stung the back of her eyes because a part of her, a very large part, frighteningly huge, wanted nothing more than to take that little box from him and thank him, if only to ease his pain, even if it was just a little, even if it meant causing her a deeper more lasting pain. Humiliating herself for him. But a smaller part, a stronger part knew to resist. And wisely, she listened to that part of herself.
She stepped back and shook her head, once. “That’s okay,” she managed, barely containing the trembling of her hands. She clasped them into a tight knot in front of herself. “You should keep it. You know, uh, in case she comes back or remembers that you didn’t have a chance to give her your gift.” Her words were brighter now, they made sense and she felt a surge of pride in herself. She was still being his friend, even through the unintentional hurt that he’d just caused. The unimaginable pinching of her heart in her chest as he stared at her with a slight frown puckered between his brows.
Donatello looked from the box in his outstretched hand to the girl standing before him, processing the scene. And suddenly he blinked and taking a closer look, noticed maybe not for the first time, but more clearly did he see: the soft curve of her cheek, the bright light in her intelligent eyes and the proud posture despite her diminutive size compared to him. And he was ashamed of himself. For being so rude to her, for offering this second hand gift.
And suddenly, he wanted to make it up to her. Wanted to fix what he’d just done without a thought to her feelings. Something stirred in the corner of his mind and he seemed to recall that she’d spent the last three days offering him her company and assistance. That she seemed to always be there when he was working on something important and was never a bother or annoying, but actually intelligent and quick witted. In fact, he realized with a sort of shock, it was kind of nice when she was around him.
She was turning away again and he said, “I-Irma,” she paused and he licked his bottom lip. “Maybe sometime you’d like to, I dunno, hang out or help me plot some algorithms or something?”
She thought about it and considered how his offer made her heart leap, but kept her head cool and calm. It was a new sensation that had overcome her. A feeling of stepping onto an unknown and undiscovered country within herself. She felt . . . empowered for the first time in her life. She gave him a slight nod and turned to look over her shoulder.
“Maybe,” she said carefully, knowing he’d need time to get over April, but not wanting to reject the offer outright. She smiled as he dropped the hand offering the box to her and it was full of hope and warmth. “Yeah. That would be great. I’ll text you.”
“Okay,” Donnie said and watched her turn away and exit his lab with his head slightly tilted, wondering about the girl who up until now seemed to be an extension of April and not her own separate entity, and that somehow, something had shifted so that she was her own person. Someone that Donatello decided he’d like to know.
Irma crossed the lair with long strides, waved goodbye to Mikey and Raph who were playing a video game. Some strange confidence had taken root within her. It buoyed her along through the tunnels to the exit above. As the late afternoon sunlight struck her face, warming it, she knew it was the end of something, but the morning would bring the beginning of something new. Fresh.
She was done being the invisible one, the second choice, the afterthought. She was worth more than that and so was he.
