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How	By : Evanscent Category: Comics > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 2704 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-How
- 2-How... Continued
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Author's Note: This fiction was inspired by the lovely dorkinhighheels via Tumblr. If you enjoy reading good TMNT fiction, I recommend her. If you enjoy reading Raphril (Raphael/April), you have found your Nirvana.
I attempted to keep the characterizations from Elise's fictions, but I can't help my own zings. Enjoy.
Prompting... I imagine April wanted to write/report about the Foot Clan and Raphael would disapprove. What would come of that?
How
Raphael hurled his Walkman across the room. It exploded against the wall like so much confetti, the plastic splintering into thousands of pieces. Everything, absolutely everything, reminded him of her. Even the music he listened to, the showers he took, the food that he ate, the couch he sat on, and the air he breathed reminded him of her. His bed smelled of her, the sofa full of memories that seeped out, the t-shirts and shorts left behind were hers, the food in the fridge given to them by her. Everything made him feel and think of her.
It had been forty eight hours since he had walked himself home from her apartment, backpack on his shoulder and lead in his heart. His emotions bubbled just under the surface of his roughened skin. He was raw and angry. She had kicked him out! She had picked up his belongings and tossed them out onto the fire escape, her arms crossed and her lips pursed. She was done talking to him. He had dug himself into a six foot hole and there was no climbing out of it at this point.
She wanted to write a column exposing the Foot Clan and Shredder, naming Karai and Sacks and effectively painting a target on her back. Raphael’s reaction had been one of shouts, thrown hands and ground shaking stomps. He had wanted to tell her how unsafe it was to name the Foot Clan and that they would kill her. He couldn’t keep her safe every day all day! She had to understand that she was dealing with forces that would likely roast her cat alive just to make her cry.
He wanted to explain how much she mattered to him and how it would break something in him that he had just discovered, something that filled him from head to toe, giving his heart a reason to beat and his lungs a reason to fill. But what had escaped him sounded more like, “Are you fucking stupid?!” And, “You are out of your mind if you think I’m gonna let you do that!”
The instant he said those things he realized what he had done. He had not explained himself well at all. He breathed and hung his head. His massive arms dropped to his sides. He didn’t know how to make it better. “April…” he started. She didn’t give him a chance. She flung open the window and deposited his things on the fire escape. No words were exchanged.
He left, without further argument and without an apology. He left, knowing he had hurt his own heart and not knowing if he could ever make it right. How could he explain to her in a way she would understand? She needed to be safe. She needed to be with him. She needed to forgive him. He didn’t know if he could forgive himself.
If she got hurt… If he wasn’t there to protect her… If he had to touch her, cold and lifeless, without the flush of her smile filling him, the reflection in her eyes, the flitting touches of her hands, her lips… Oh god, oh god. Nothing, nothing, would stop him from seeking revenge. He could feel his skin cooling with a shiver in sharp contrast to the blood that rushed, heated with emotion, through his veins. If April was ever hurt he would watch the world burn around him with the pain he felt. Wouldn’t he?
He remembered her falling. Her hair was flying around her. Her jacket billowed in the wind. Her face was written in terror. He had leapt – without so much as a glance to his brothers – to save her. He didn’t care that much about what happened to him, he just needed to save her. A part of him knew that his brothers would be there, but that didn’t matter nearly as much as keeping April safe. His hand wrapped around her wrist and he knew that he would do anything in the world to keep her alive. That moment, he knew he’d be willing to lay down his life to make sure she was smiling. I got you. I’ve got you, April. Hold on, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go. No matter what. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you. I’ve got you.
He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. His eyes stung. His heart ached. Something in his body felt so wrong and he didn’t have the slightest clue on how to make it feel right.
“Hey. Uh. Raph?” The youngest of the turtles, Michelangelo, stood in the sleeping area, fingertips of each of his hands tapping nervously against the other. Raphael regarded the other turtle with a cold indifference. Mikey should know that Raph was less than receptive right about now. “Could I talk to you for a sec?”
Raphael motioned to the sleeping area with a sweeping arm. It was a communal area, but Raph’s attitude certainly filled any room his body occupied to the point the other members of his family regarded any room he was in as “his” room.
“I, uh, I know you had a fight with April and…”
Raphael immediately got to his feet and moved to exit the sleeping area through Michelangelo. The smaller turtle scrambled out of the way, his hands flailing in the air.
“Come on, man! I just wanted to ask if she was gonna be okay!”
His back still to young Mikey, Raph snorted, his footfalls as heavy as they have ever been as he moved away to any room that didn’t have the orange clad turtle in it.
“I could, ya know, comfort her,” slid in Mikey, his tone suggestive.
Raphael paused. He turned, slowly, regarding Michelangelo silently. The smug look that was painted on the younger turtle’s face melted like ice caught in a fire storm.
If it were possible for a single look to cause explosions and spontaneous combustion, Mikey’s head would have been smeared in sooty remains against the far wall.
“I mean work the Mikey Magic to make her smile again! That’s all, man…”
Raph’s insides churned with a riot of mixing emotions. Jealousy overpowered him and his lips pulled back as his throat vibrated in a low growl. Michelangelo should know not to touch something of his! A single fist clenched. It was large enough to crush a standard sized basketball, or a man’s head. Part of him wanted to strangle the younger turtle for such impertinence.
Shame bubbled up through his throat. His breath caught. He had yelled at her. He had called her stupid. He had swore. He had stomped around like a raging lunatic in her home. The delicate creature that held his very heart in her tiny hands… he had hurt her. He cinched his eyes tightly shut. Perhaps Mikey would be better for April, anyway. Mikey wouldn’t break things, yell, or hurt her feelings.
Mikey was jovial, funny, exuberant and full of love of life. He was adventurous, spontaneous, and optimistic. He was everything Raphael wasn’t. Raph felt his shoulders sink and the tension drain away. Guilt and shame rose through him, drowning his jealousy and rage with the cold realization that he may never be able to fix things with April.
“Yeah… You do that,” he breathed, uncaring if Mikey heard him or not. He turned away, eyes downcast, his stomach clenching with the thought of the younger turtle coaxing even a smile from those red lips he craved so much.
He was so ashamed of his behavior. He was always so violent. He was always so loud. He was always such a… a… hothead! He was confident he terrified her into the decision that he was nothing but trouble. He was too massive, too moody, too stupid and too abrasive to be able to care for such a kind, lovely woman like her. She pushed him out of her apartment for her safety. He was a liability. He was an accident waiting to happen.
By seventy two hours, his mood had turned so dour, it felt as though he had a rain cloud of darkness following him permanently. His mood was so black, even Donnie had visibly shied away from the red garbed turtle. He no longer ate with the others and chose to forgo the bath, the shower, and his bed for the weight room and the dojo. It was Leonardo that approached him next.
Sweat that had clung to his arms was flung to the floor as he finished his kata for the umpteenth time. He tugged on his headband, tightening the knot that threatened to slip from his slick skull. He felt like he needed his armor now more than ever. He had showed himself… every inch of himself… to someone and now he had hurt them terribly. She probably thought he was uglier than ever.
The attack had come more swiftly than Raphael had anticipated. What truly surprised him was the fury with Leonardo wielded his weapons. He was immediately on defense and losing ground at an alarming rate. The sounds of clashing metal hissed and crashed in the air. Raphael found himself on one knee, his sais crossed overhead, blocking his brother’s twin katana blades that shivered with tension inches from his skull.
Raph looked up. Leonardo’s mouth was pulled into a smug smirk. The smirk of victory and arrogance that he gave Raph every time he knew he was right and Raph was wrong. It was that self-righteous look of superiority that struck every last nerve of Raph’s limited patience and understanding. He hated that look. He wanted to make sure Leo could never make that face ever again.
Raphael launched himself up, tossing Leo away. He advanced and began a flurry of blows that drove Leo back. He was regaining his lost ground. “I’m gonna wipe that smirk right off your face, Fearless!” he hissed, spitting out his nickname for the Blue Leader. Raph could feel his bones and muscles vibrating with his efforts. It felt amazing. It felt phenomenal. It had been too long.
“I’d like to see you try, big guy,” Leo shot back, his voice still as smug as his god damned face. Sweat beaded down his brow, darkening the bright blue mask to a deeper hue; the hue of determination and perseverance. Raphael wanted to choke him with it.
Incensed, Raph doubled his efforts, attacking ceaselessly, recklessly. He landed a blow and one of Leo’s katanas clattered to the floor. The sound was sweet victory to Raphael. He laughed and felt more alive than he had in days. He was beating his ridiculous Leader. He was taking down Fearless and he was going to enjoy it.
With a single katana, Leo deepened his stance, the blade glittering as he held it in front of him and waited while Raph gloated. “You think that you can beat me?”
“I don’t think, Leo. I know. You wanna give up now? Before I crush you?”
“Bring it.”
Raphael attacked with the sensation he had all ready won. He knew his brother was good with two katanas, but he had forgotten how precise he was with a single blade. One sai was torn from his hand and the point buried hard into the far wall, leaving the weapon lodged there. Blood dripped down his thumb on his now empty hand.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Raphael promised huskily. He ignored the wound; it was barely a surface scratch after all.
“Show me,” Leonardo stated.
Again, Raphael attacked. He was armed with only one sai. Although he was accustomed to two, he wasn’t helpless with only one. He managed to pin Leo’s sword down for a moment and reached through to punch his brother in the mouth. Leo was bloodied, but not staggered.
Leo tossed Raph away, each turtle gripping their weapon tightly. “Is this how it’s gonna be now?”
Raph side stepped, moving his brother with him in a slow circle, “Me kicking your ass? Always has been. Always will be.”
“You, being such the unthinking jerk, that you ruin every good moment and happy thought we all have.”
“The fuck you yammering about, Leo? Come at me, bro. Less talk. More fight.”
Leo advanced, his sword swinging slow and low. Raph easily blocked it all, his face wrenched up into a smile as the two faced off. “And when one of us has a single shot at something more than this life, you get it. You! You get it! And what do you do? You fuck it up. You can’t just be happy, can you? You have got to just open your mouth and ruin it.”
Raph staggered back against the weight of his brother, his heart freezing in his chest. Leo took his chance to turn into his brother’s grasp and punch him square in the jaw. With another turn, his elbow buried deep in Raph’s plastron, right at his stomach. The red clad turtle felt the air rush from his lungs and he again found himself on one knee.
Eyes narrowed, chest heaving as he attempted to breathe, Raphael glared up at Leo who was sheathing his katana, “You’re always thinking about only yourself.” Leo bent to retrieve his other katana. “You always open your mouth before you think.” He calmly pulled the sai from the dojo wall. He tossed it at Raph’s knee; it skid to a stop before the downed turtle. “It’s not too late. Fix it, numbskull. Fit it now.” He pointed his blade at Raph before exiting, his body stiff with an emotion Raph was hard pressed to name. “You think you’re the only one who loves April?”
Raphael knelt, alone and panting, in the dojo. He tasted blood. His eyes stung. His hand had since stopped dripping. “I don’t know how,” he said to no one in particular.
He didn’t know how, but he knew he needed to. Now.
A/N: First turtle fiction. Woot.
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