He pauses, his footsteps slowing as his eyes fall on the familiar old couch tucked into the corner of his cluttered lab. There’s a faint indentation in the cushions where you’d curled up last night, tangled in one of his oversized hoodies.

You’d stayed over—so had April. It had been a chaotic, snack-filled evening of movies, sparring challenges, and nerdy debates. But now, in the quiet hum of early morning tech, something catches his eye. A small, leather-bound book rests on the edge of the couch, slightly ajar as if it had been placed there absentmindedly.

Your diary.

Donatello’s fingers hover over it for a moment, conflict flashing in his gaze. He knows he shouldn’t. But curiosity—it’s his Achilles' heel. And besides, he’s a ninja. Stealthy. Observant. Dangerously nosy. A Nosy Ninja, Pun much intended. (Damn you Leo.)

He picks it up gently, almost reverently, as if it might vanish if he moved too fast. Then, hesitating only a second more, he sinks onto the couch and opens it. His eyes scan the handwriting. At first, it’s idle musing—thoughts on the night before, April’s laughter, Mikey’s ridiculous popcorn tricks—but then, he hits it. A line that makes him freeze. His eyes widen. The slope of his drawn-on eyebrows lifts dramatically above the edge of his purple mask. He adjusts his goggles, blinking to make sure he read it right.

He did. Every single page. He kept flipping, slower now, each turn more tender than the last. And damn it—most of it was about him. Little moments you’d written down in ink like they mattered, like he mattered. Notes about how his eyes softened when he was lost in thought, how his voice dipped when he explained something complicated, how you always seemed to catch him mid-ramble with a fond smile.

**A sentence about how his fingers moved when he was soldering microchips. Another, tucked into the margin, about the way he chewed on his stylus when he was frustrated. It was… cute to him. Unbelievably so. Not in a patronizing way—but in a way that made his chest ache. You stared at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. You noticed him. Not just the tech genius, the battle strategist, the turtle with a hundred plans and no time—but him. **

The person beneath all that. And he realized, with something like awe, that you’d been paying attention this whole time. Not out of curiosity. Not because of obligation. But because you wanted to. Because you cared. He exhaled, breath shaky, as if trying to regulate a system that had just been overloaded.

Cute.

His heart stutters. His throat goes dry. The words echo in his head like a feedback loop: You left your diary at my house... And I read those pages... Do you really love me, baby? ** He mouths the lyrics without realizing it, breath caught between a small smile

Meanwhile, oblivious to the silent storm unraveling in Donnie’s chest, you’re across the lair in Leo’s room, excitedly discussing the newest Jupiter Jim comic. You wave your hands mid-rant about the absurd plot twist in issue #217, laughing with Leo like nothing in your world had shifted.

But back in the lab, Donnie just clutches the diary to his chest, staring into the middle distance as his analytical mind tries desperately to reboot after reading the most unexpected data of all: You love him.