Hidden Messages
Ship: Raphril
Universe: TMNT!2012
Note: Haha so this was the one I was supposed to have posted on Monday (or Tuesday at the latest). I had a lovely anon who reminded me and so it's thanks to her I'm posting this at all because I totally forgot I was supposed to do that XD. I really haven't posted anything in a while but I have like 7 half started story idea so that's good right?
Summery: Raph writes a letter that he deeply regrets, only to regret it a lot less later on. Takes place after Casey Jones versus the Underworld.
At first Raph keeps it out of fear that someone might stumble across it if he simply throws it away. Mikey has a bad habit of snooping through trash to find treasures. It doesn't matter that the trash comes from the lair because dammit Mikey you live here you already know what's in the trash.
It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it belonged to either, even though there is an actual rocket scientist living among them. Leo's writing looks like a weird cross between kanji and English, Donnie's printing is completely indecipherable, and Mikey favors looping handwriting for some reason. It would take all of five seconds for them to figure out the sharp, blocky text is his, and the rest of eternity for them to get bored of teasing him for it.
So he hides it amongst his music magazines, that way even if someone, Mikey, goes snooping through his room they probably won't find it. None of them like his music anyways. Mostly because wouldn't know cool music if it bit them on the shell.
Eventually though, Raph forgets about it.
There's mutagen to find, monsters to fight, alien invasions to thwart. Too much to worry about besides some stupid scrap that doesn't even mean anything. It's stupid, Raph tells himself, though what he really means is I'm stupid.
It's only months later that he remembers its existence, but by then it is too late.
...
"I told ya I don't need help," Raph grumbles for what feels like the thousandth time, dragging another chunk of broken concrete over to the pile.
On the other side of the room April is collecting his sheets and blankets, now covered in dust and paint chips. At the sight of her perched on his bed so innocently Raph has to avert his eyes to keep the heat from covering his face.
Each chunk of rubble falls a little heavier on the pile now as he battles down his own frustration.
Oblivious, April continues to shuck his pillows of their cases, tossing them into a larger bag.
"The rest of the lair is almost cleared out," April's tone is patient, but there is a hint of steel in her voice that tells him this is the last time they will be having this discussion. Apparently four is the magic number when it comes to repetitive conversations. "All that's left is the dojo and your room. Master Splinter has Mikey, Leo, and Donnie with him so it looks like, for now, you're stuck with me."
It's not that Raph doesn't want her there.
Not by a long shot.
It's just that after being around April in New York is different than being around April in Northampton. Compared to the sewers, the rambling farmhouse was like another world. Insular in its isolation.
There they could walk around in the sun with each other, with April, and not have to watch for prying eyes. There they could almost pretend they weren't turtles, or ninjas, or anything else. There they were normal.
They'd been there for months and Raph had forgotten, allowed himself to forget, the reality that stared them in the face every single day. He'd allowed himself to believe the beautiful lie. Back in the lair though, Raph can see the sharp contrast more clearly than ever.
The divide between her world and his is made up of several feet of concrete.
Another chunk of concrete lands on the pile, making the one below it shatter at the force of it.
"Oh my God!"
April's shout is so sudden that Raph can't help but jump slightly. Glancing over guiltily in her direction he hopes she hasn't noticed his brooding. It's not sulking no matter what Leo says. Instead he finds her on her knees, bouncing excitedly atop his mattress. Her eyes are hungry as she thumbs through a stack of magazines that somehow survived not only being discarded, but an alien invasion and subsequent Kraang attack as well.
"Is this Charred Walls of the Damned?"
She holds up a slightly dog-eared, but otherwise mint condition copy of Metalholic. At first he has the urge to snatch it out of her hands. It's not that he doesn't trust her, but if there's one thing Raph hates its people touching his stuff.
There's only two things that hold him back; the first being that if he makes a grab for it, it might get ripped or wrinkled. The second is the way April's eyes seem to glow with happiness as she reverently clutches the magazine, like it's the key to her salvation.
So Raph merely clenches his fists at his sides, biting the side of his mouth to keep silent as April babbles on, ignorant Raph's mental anguish.
"Oh man, I can't believe you found a copy," Suddenly she's staring right at him. All wide blue eyes and freckles. It makes Raph sweat in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with their demolished AC that Donnie swears he'll get to fixing eventually. "Can I borrow it? Please?"
No.
Just no.
There are many things Raph has done for April, things he is not proud of, shameful things. Like that time she talked him into watching the Notebook. He hadn't cried. It was dust in his eye. The lair was dusty.
Still, there is no way he's letting her borrow that magazine. She can do that smiling, sparkly eye thing all she wants. It. Is. Not. Happening.
"Sure."
Fuck.
If it wasn't for the fact he can actually hear the last of his self-respect dying a slow, painful death, the look on April's face almost makes it worthwhile. So much so that when she pulls him into a tight hug, her bag of laundry in one hand, the magazine in the other, Raph allows himself the brief indulgence of letting his hand rest on the curve of her back. Not pressing of course, he hasn't gone completely crazy, but he can feel the heat of her skin even through the fabric of her shirt.
...
Hours later, long after April has gone home, as he lays alone in his bed, Raph can still feel the ghost of her body pressed up against his. He tries to ignore it. It will pass, he tells himself over and over as the silence of his room looms, heavy and thick.
His sheets smell like her, or more accurately they smell like her laundry soap. It is a small thing, it's just soap after all, but combined with the image from earlier of her perched on his bed it is enough to send his imagination into overdrive.
It is sort of like trying to bail out a sinking boat with a cup. Every image that pops into his head, the kind that makes his heart pound and his cheeks burn, Raph tries to push it out of his head. Smashing each one with imaginary fists until they are nothing but dust. Yet each time he does so, with each image crushed, another springs up in its place almost immediately.
It's enough to drive a guy crazy.
What's worse though, is that somewhere, deep in the back of Raph's mind another thought lurks. Behind vivid images of flaming red hair against flushed pale skin there is something that he's forgotten. Like a ghost is hovers at the edge of Raph's consciousness, taunting him but disappearing whenever he tries to catch hold of it. A process not at all helped by the images of April playing through his mind like the world's most frustrating slideshow.
Eventually, Raph can take it no longer. With a sigh he succumbs to his own imagination, letting the images wash over him like a wave. If he's going to hell, Raph thinks as fantasy April smiles wickedly, her hair falling loose around her face as she stretches out across his sheets, at least he's gonna enjoy it.
It's not like April will even know anyways…
Like the shattering of glass his dream shatters into a million pieces as Raph's eyes jolt open. Still half asleep he scrambles out from under his sheets and onto his knees. Desperately, he scours his shelf, panic making his hands shake as he paws through piles of magazines.
It's not possible. It is not possible. Each face of every magazine he tosses aside seems to taunt him as an overwhelming wave of futility dawns. Still, he holds out the tiniest bit of hope until the last magazine falls to the floor in a flutter of pages.
April has his magazine.
April has the magazine.
For a moment Raph is sure his heart has stopped because his fingers are numb and tiny black dots start to fill the edges of his vision. Maybe she won't find it, he less thinks and more prays. Maybe she'll only look at the Charred Walls segment and miss his letter all together. Maybe for once in his stupid, stupid life something will go right.
But somewhere deep in his chest Raph knows it's impossible because there is no way he's that lucky. God, Fate, whatever it is hates him and his life is officially over. There's nothing left to do now but await his inevitable demise.
...
The next morning cranky does not even begin to describe Raph's mood.
After a night of lost sleep spent alternating between praying for another Kraang invasion and thinking of various places he can hide for the next fifty years or so, according to Donnie Florida is nice, Raph is barely able to drag himself out of bed for training.
It's a blood bath to say the least. On top of being exhausted to the point where Raph's sure that only sheer stubbornness is keeping him standing, there is the added benefit of being bounced all over the dojo by all three of his brothers.
Hell, even Donnie kicks his ass, Donnie. It's unacceptable. Even with a night of lost sleep he should be able to hold his own against his brainy sibling.
It was just that every time he got into the swing of things a sound would catch Raph's attention. In a panicked instant it would sound like April's voice, or the clatter of her hopping the turnstile, of the soft rustle of her shoes on concrete. That one moment of distraction would be enough for his opponent to snatch victory.
By the time April finally arrives Raph is poking sullenly at a bowl of Pizza Ramen that Mikey shoved in front of his as an apology before fleeing the room in some delayed self-preservation. The kitchen is deserted as the others, sensing that he's in one of his moods as Leo calls them; seem to have collectively decided to avoid the room until he can sort himself out.
Right, like that was going to happen.
Even before she enters the room Raph knows she's in the lair, he can hear Donnie and Leo calling out their greetings and Mikey whispering a warning about avoiding the kitchen. So he's not at all surprised when he hears her heading in his direction. April was never very good at doing what she was told.
As her footsteps got closer a small voice in his head tells him to make a break for it. There's still time. He can disappear in a puff of smoke and simply avoid April until this whole mess blows over. Raph doesn't move from his chair though, because despite how much he wants to be in this moment, he is not a coward. Whatever April's answer is, and it's going to be ugly of that he's positive, knowing that he ran away like some scared kid would make it even worse.
Besides rejections were like band aids, better when gotten over with quickly. At least that's what television had told him, Raph had never personally experienced it so he was going by second hand account.
The curtain that serves as their kitchen door makes a soft rustle as April pushes it aside, and Raph can feel his shoulders hunch ever so slightly forming a protective barrier around his soup bowl.
"Hey Raph."
April's cheerful voice, makes Raph jump a little. Whatever he had been expecting, pity, derision, whatever, cheery had not been on the list.
April doesn't seem to notice though as she makes her way to his side of the table. Despite the remaining seats being completely empty she slips casually onto the bench beside him, her thigh brushing temptingly against his.
In an attempt to ignore the tingling spreading up his leg Raph shovels another spoonful of Pizza Ramen into his mouth. It's cold and the noodles are slimy but he hopes it's enough to keep April from noticing the red that he knows is creeping its way up his neck.
"I brought your magazine back…" Her voice trails off, soft at the end.
There is something in her tone, the way she fiddles with her, what she doesn't say, and suddenly all Raph's worst fears come to life simultaneously. They claw their way up this throat, souring his stomach, turning pepperoni to stone.
She knows. Of course she does. But, if she's not going to say anything then neither is he.
"Thanks."
The words come out as a grunt and Raph shovels another spoonful into his mouth though his stomach rolls in displeasure. Apparently embarrassment and tomato soup is the ideal recipe for heartburn. He'd have to keep that in mind for future reference.
"Well, um…here." Her tiny pale hands slide the magazine across the table to rest beside his elbow. When he makes not move to take it April slowly, awkwardly begins to stands, her eyes apprehensive as she watches him. "Thanks for um, letting me borrow it. The Charred Walls interview was great. So, uh…yeah, thanks."
Raph wants to yell and scream. He wants to break things. He wants to punch a wall, or a Kraang droid, or a Foot soldier until his knuckles bleed. Anything to keep the sharp pain in his sternum from aching like he's been stabbed with a rusty fork.
"It's not what you think." The words bubble up and out of his throat before he can stop them. An endless stream of damning evidence. "I mean I didn't…I never thought…You weren't supposed to find it."
Suddenly Raph is angry, because anger is easier to deal with then the overwhelming disappointment he's been feeling up until now. Shakily he points a finger in April's direction, studiously avoiding her eyes.
"It's your fault anyways. If you weren't so…so…you, then I never would have written that stupid letter in the first place. With your smiles and your stupid eyes and your hugging. I mean, if anyone's to blame here…"
Somewhere in a far off corner of his mind, Raph is aware that he's yelling. He can feel his face crumple into his default glare. He can feel the ache of his fists as his bones seem to creak from the sheer pressure of his grip. A tiny part of his brain, the part that isn't swamped by adrenaline, and embarrassment, and red, is very much aware that this is the completely wrong way to deal with this situation. It is far too late for such rational thought though and Raph's words press against his throat, eagerly jostling to be first.
Whatever he was about to say next, even Raph doesn't know for sure, he is only aware when the words disappear like a wisp of smoke. It takes a moment for him to process the warmth cocooned around his body.
Distantly he can feel April's thin arms twined roughly around his neck, her lips pressed almost aggressively to his own. As seconds, hours, days pass his body starts to unwind. The adrenaline starts to dissipate and his hands unclench, only to wander towards the curve of her back. They hover there for a moment, close enough to feel her heat on his palms but not close enough to touch. As though touching her will shatter whatever exhaustion induced delusion he's slipped into.
It's as though ever speck of anger is swallowed up by April's lips on his.
When they finally part for air Raph breath comes out in ragged puffs that makes April grin. It's from all the yelling he'd been doing, Raph tells himself, but even he knows that's a lie.
"So, um…I'm guessing you liked it?" says Raph trying to regain what little bit of his dignity he has left. Judging by the burning he can still feel in his cheeks and smug grin on April's face, it's not successful.
"It was the sweetest thing I've ever read."
While Raph is not really happy with being called sweet, candy was sweet, kittens were sweet, the small peck she drops on his cheek that just grazes the corner of his mouth, more than makes up for it. If this is the reward he can handle being sweet once and a while.
Seemingly pleased with her work, the redhead slowly untangles herself and saunters towards the door, casting a sly grin over her shoulder as she pauses in the doorway.
"In fact it was so sweet maybe I should show it off."
As the curtain swings shut behind her Raph is left to scramble after her, headless of the goofy grin that appears to be permanently plastered to his own face.
He knows that she's not actually going to show his brother, but still it would be fun persuading April to keep the letter their little secret and, as it turns out, he can make a very persuasive argument when motivated.