She didn't scream.
It's a small distinction, and anyway, she'd been more inclined to attack than run away, but it's something Raph has always appreciated. April is a sister, a mother, an aunt, but she had taken one look at them, screamed, and fainted. Angel hadn't. It's not exactly fair, and in the long run it doesn't really mean anything, but her fierce scowl at the sight of them can be cherished in a way April's hysterics cannot.
His shoulders tense and he goes still, stiller than he might were he hiding in shadows as a Foot ninja walked by. He can feel her mammalian warmth against his arm, her hand like lightning upon his thigh, her lips getting closer to his own. He stares into the middle distance, and takes his mind away…
When he comes back, she's looking at him with an impossible-to-read expression on her face, and after studying him for a moment, she gets up and leaves. He doesn't relax.
He reaches new levels of ferocity on the streets that night, and apparently they can tell the difference because when he twists Green Mohawk's arm halfway out of its shoulder as he flings him against a wall and then starts forward to do more damage, Purple Ponytail steps up behind him and protests against his uncharacteristic brutality in a whiny Bronx accent that has always grated on Raph's ears.
He takes the hand that had almost landed on his shoulder and breaks it; but then he leaves, because the guy has a point; though he hadn't realized he'd been such a fixture in these punks' lives that they could read his moods by the way he fought. It creeps him out.
Angel avoids him after that. Raph can't even manage to pretend to be glad.
Casey told him once that the year they'd disappeared had been the year Angel finally let her purple hair grow out black. He informed him that he'd asked her once why she'd kept her bangs purple, and she'd smiled a pained smile and told him she was waiting for the right moment. Casey had given him a meaningful look and posited that she probably meant she was waiting for the right person.
Raph had pretended not to know what he meant.
"Why not?" she asks, without preamble, though Raph knows exactly what she's talking about. He hunches his shoulders, wishing she'd kept going with the avoidance thing, and turns slightly away from her, though not far enough not to see the fierce frown that breaks out on her face. "Don't you dare run away from me, Raphael. You at least have to give me an explanation."
He hates it when he remembers how young she was when they first met, but he does so now, and it startles him into answering.
"Like hell I owe you an explanation."
"Oh, yes you do." She gets right in his face, meeting his gaze without flinching, even though he knows he's giving off that insane animal vibe that has the younger or less brave (or smarter) PDs running for cover every time they see it. "You can't just turn down the only girl who's ever offered without telling her why."
This is too much.
"How do you know you're the only one?" Even as he says this he wishes he sounded more worldly; instead he merely sounds like a petulant child. She arches an eyebrow and folds her arms over her chest.
"Oh? This I gotta hear."
"None of your business," he growls, and she laughs.
"You're fulla shit, Raph," she says affectionately. "Always have been."
"Have not." Now he definitely sounds like a child, and his only saving grace is that she joins in.
"Have too."
"Have not."
"Have too! Like that story you told me about the giant motorbikes on another planet. I mean, come on."
He grins almost ferally, and at last she falters, hands falling to her sides, face softening into a small frown.
"Anyway, you can lie to me, but you gotta give me something."
His chest aches, and he longs to be elsewhere.
"No," he says stubbornly, unwilling to tell the truth, but unable to lie. She just studies him, arms folded again, lower lip stuck out slightly in a very distracting way. It turns into a staring contest that he loses.
"Alright, fine!" He flings up his hands and starts pacing, feeling very caged. "Yeah, you caught me, there's no reason not to, hooray. I'll just grab my coat and we can go have dinner and a movie. And after that!" he exclaims, flinging his arms up as his voice rises in pitch, "We'll get some ice cream! Then I can walk you home and I'll give you a goodnight kiss on your front porch, and you can wear my freakin' letterman's jacket to school. Oh, wait," he says bitterly, choking out the words now, "Wrong species. Never mind."
Her face stays mostly impassive, though her brow furrows in what he just knows is sympathy when the words turn bitter. At "never mind," he turns on his heel and jumps off the roof where they'd been talking, feeling claustrophobic despite the wide sky above him. She runs to the side of the building and looks out, down, and around, trying to spot him, but he's already vanished.
He knows he's doing the right thing, but it's a bitter comfort.