Shock
Leo's hand scraped on the brick wall, slowing his desperate flight from the lair. He leaned against it, groaning as he gingerly rubbed his aching eyes. If he'd thought his head hurt before, he was absolutely sure now he was going to curl up and die from the sharp pain that laced across his skull.
But standing here, lost in the sewers and shivering in agony, was better than facing what he'd done last night. It was better than reliving the flashes of memory that threatened to tear his sanity. There was so little he remembered, but it was enough to shame him into blindly running to escape for the first time in his life.
Drinking with Raph- they'd been in the kitchen, he was fairly certain. Talking with Raph about nonsense as they huddled to stay warm. Kissing Raph. Dragging Raph upstairs. Pinning Raph down. Watching Raph stumble out of Leo's bed this morning, bent over stiffly, eyes wide with embarrassment and recognition.
Leo slammed a fist into the wall, tears soaking his mask as his stomach lurched and his head swam fuzzily. How could he have done that? How could he have forced himself on Raph like that? Was he that disgusting of a person with inhibitions removed?
Leo slid down the wall, cradling his head in his hands. If he lived through this hangover, he was going to make Donnie promise to kill him if he ever touched alcohol again.
It took three tries, but Raphael finally swung his body into his hammock, and he curled into a ball defensively. He'd had a few hangovers, though not for a year or so. It didn't make this one any easier to deal with, though, because… Because of last night.
Raphael buried his face in his pillow, trying to stop his body from shaking. He was reasonably sure he'd let something slip last night, and that scared the hell out of him. Because then something had happened, and he was also reasonably sure as to what that was.
His hands wandered to his neck, his lips, his thighs. He felt small bruises and scrapes; marks he'd always longed for in his fantasies, but now he couldn't enjoy them. Because he'd seen Leo's face when he'd sat up in bed- Leo's bed- and met his surprised gaze.
That look of fear and utter revulsion would haunt Raphael the rest of his days.
He'd finally gotten what he'd dreamed of- and he couldn't even remember it.
He drew his knees up to his chest, wincing at the unfamiliar pain. He was never going to drink again. Never.