Casey peels away in the van, kicking up angry dust clouds in his wake, and April contritely discovers it’s the first time she’s been able to think clearly in a week.
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April doesn’t pay much mind to Bigfoot, or… anyone else, outside Casey, for a day or two. She wishes she could say it was because she enjoyed his company, but the growing allergy to talking things out is eating away at her like acid. As of late, his aura grew prickly the moment she walked into the room, sharp with self-defense that hung on the tip of his tongue. It didn’t help ease the growing tension.
One afternoon, supplies low and tempers thin with hunger from stretching rations, they disagree over who will drive into town to replenish the pantry. A cutthroat verbal tennis match morphs into an ugly (and unfortunately, semi-public) blow-up in the kitchen, and ends with a heavy dose of silent treatment.
Casey peels away in the van, kicking up angry dust clouds in his wake, and April contritely discovers it’s the first time she’s been able to think clearly in a week.
She works the steam out of her ears with a sparring session while he’s gone, and later makes mid-training sandwiches to share with Raph. They sit together under the shade of the birch, watching Bigfoot attempt to educate Don and Mike in forest stealth.
”Man, she can’t stand him,” her friend mumbles around his bite of sandwich.
The revelation is shocking enough to pull April’s gaze from Donnie, who shrieks while he clambers out of the brambles he’d just been tossed into. ”You noticed too?”
“Who hasn’t?” Raph chuckles dryly. “She’s pissed that he insisted on changing out those bandages this morning. Been treating him like the plague since then.”
April sighs a bit, watching Donnie scowl from a distance. Her earlier spat with Casey is still detectable in her thin retort. “Why does he do that? He can’t take a hint, can he?”
Raph doesn’t answer right away, just watches for a moment while his brother picks the goat heads out of his arm and stomps back toward the house.
“Don’s relentless, when he wants to be. I guess we all have our ways to… you know. Cope,” he says finally. In response to her answering deadpan, he immediately defends, “What? He knows the fix, Bigfoot’s not seeing reason. Cue the classic Donnie overthink.”
April snorts. “Still… coping?”
“He sinks into himself, April, he gets hung up on the little things when the big things are too much for even him to figure out,” Raph explains, suddenly impatient. His eyes narrow, his lip screws up on one side. And, just to prove he’s as much of an ass as he looks, he adds, “You know this, you know him as well as I do. Don’t you?”
April’s jaw clenches. She’s inhaling, winding up, but Raph’s deflated before she can even throw the next dagger. He waves a hand in what seems like surrender, and corrects, “You do.”
”I got a lot going on,” she vindicates anyway.
”I know.”
“Donnie’s fine. He’ll manage, he always does.”
“I’m not saying you have to rescue him.”
“Then what are you saying? God, Raph, cut me some slack, I’m still trying to figure out…” she huffs, and pulls her knees close to her chest. “Everything else.”
”We all are,” he can’t help but fire back.
April goes quiet, and again, the uneasy silence chips away at her. They watch Mikey try to out-maneuver Bigfoot at scaling trees.
Raph peels the crust off the edges of his bread. “Don’s a little better with patience than me. Same goes for friendly advice. Probably why you get along with him more.”
His eyes dart on instinct to the flicker of movement at the other end of the yard, where Leo’s been trying to chop wood for the last hour. After a while they drift back to Donnie, who slams the screen door shut behind him, so hard it rattles on its hinges.
Around him, Raph’s despondency hangs in the air like thick dust, brushing up against April’s mind. She squashes the urge to peer in and investigate further.
“We’ve all got hang ups. It’s better to get hung up together, than… you know. Apart.” He sighs, vexed with himself, and gestures vaguely. “Look, all I’m saying is you and Jones will work this out. And when you do… we’ll be glad to have you back. Don, especially.”
April chews on her lip, and nods. The only sounds for a while are the birches in the wind and Bigfoot’s distant, victorious bellow. “So if hyperfixation’s Donnie’s thing, what’re you doing to…cope?”
And because Raph’s an ass, he ignores her question, electing to roll his eyes and grimace down at the sandwich she’d made for him. “Really, egg salad? Tastes like feet.”
It pulls them out of whatever pall they’d fallen into. She’ll never admit she’s grateful.
“We’re out of peanut butter, sue me,”she grouses, and for good measure, chastises him with a swat on his shell before she heads inside. She doesn’t miss the small smile on his face while he shoos her away.
