Chapter Text
Donatello likes to talk. It’s not much of a surprise. He likes rambling about his tech, bantering with his brothers, and just generally likes to hear himself speak. It was soothing to make noise. So it was understandable that he absolutely loathed when he couldn’t.
The first time it happened was when he was around five years old.
He and his brothers had been playing tag around the lair. It was fun and they were all having a great time.
Raph was it, and only Donnie was left to be tagged. Mikey had been tagged early on and Leo had run into a corner and got himself tagged as well not too long after.
While not as strong as his brothers, the soft shell was fast and could dodge fairly well (for a five year old anyways). Raph was strong, easily the strongest of the four, but he wasn’t as fast and a lot clumsier than the rest of them.
Everything was going well. Leo and Mikey were cheering as Donnie evaded another attempted tag from Raph. Even Splinter was watching with mild interest. Or maybe it was concern. Either way, he was watching when usually he’d just tell them to quiet down or be careful.
Of course, all good things must come to an end.
See, despite Donnie’s speed and dodging skills, he couldn’t see that well. It’s been obvious for a while that his eyesight is a lot worse than average. Splinter had been looking for some discarded glasses for his purple son, but none of them seemed to be his prescription. So for now he just had to live with it. This brought up problems when playing games like tag though.
Raph swiped at Donnie, once again going for the tag. The soft shell confidently dodged, not seeing the ball on the floor. He stepped right on top of it. His heart skipped a beat as the balled rolled from underneath him, and he landed right on his back. Right on his shell.
In hindsight, it didn’t even hurt that bad. His shell just ended up a little bruised. But to five year old Donnie, anything happening to his shell was basically the end of the world.
He cried out in pain, tears pricking his eyes. Hard concrete against his soft shell never felt good, especially not when he fell with all his weight. Splinter rushed over to check on him.
“Are you ok my son?”
Donnie just looked at him and sobbed, not speaking.
“I need you to roll over Donatello. I have to make sure your shell is ok,” Splinter explained gently. Donnie reluctantly rolled over, allowing his dad to look over his shell. “Hmm…”
“Is he gonna be ok papa?” Leo asked, an the rat looked at his other sons. Leonardo looked concerned, Raph looked like he was about to cry and Mikey was crying.
“He will be ok my sons, his shell is just bruised. You know how his shell is softer than yours?” The three boys nodded. “That means he has to be more careful, because when things like this happen it hurts more to him than it would for you.”
“I’m sorry, dad. It was just an accident, promise!” Raph sniffled.
“It’s alright Red. It wasn’t your fault,” Splinter reassured. Then he turned his attention back to Donatello. The soft shell was sniffling, but no longer crying so that was a good sign. On the other hand, he was yet to say a word. “How are you feeling Purple?”
Donnie opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but no sound was made.
This only made Splinter and the brothers more concerned. Apparently, this made Donnie equally, if not more concerned because he started crying again.
Splinter didn’t know what to do. Donatello kept crying but wouldn’t (or possibly couldn’t?) tell them what’s wrong. None of the parenting books he read went over this. The other turtles were also getting increasingly antsy at the whole situation and Michelangelo had yet to stop his tears.
“Donatello, can you please tell me what’s wrong?”
Donnie shook his head sadly. He couldn’t! He just couldn’t and it was terrifying. Leo gasped.
“I- I think I know! Maybe he was so scared he hurt his shell that he can’t speak? Like the- the fear took his voice!”
The soft shell nodded. That sounded right! He couldn’t think of anything else that would make sense to why he suddenly couldn’t speak.
Mikey wiped his tears and toddled over to the purple clad turtle.
“Don’ worry Donnie! You’re okay,” Mikey smiled.
“Yeah! We’ll keep you safe so you’re shell never gets hurt again!” Raph exclaimed.
Donnie smiled softly and pushed himself off the ground. He rubbed at his face until the remnants of his tears were wiped away, then pulled his brothers into a hug. He was glad they understood and didn’t try and force him to talk anyways. He didn’t think he’d be able to do it.
Donatello was able to talk again a few hours later, and he savored every word he spoke. Hopefully he would never have to deal with that again (spoiler alert; he would).