Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Boxing was a release for Raphael, and he was damn good at it. He cherished the small period of time he had between school and home where he was free to care only about himself.

It was a way to let go of all the anger he gathered throughout the day. A healthy outlet so that when he finally did go home, he was at his best, and his brothers never saw the side of him that was stressed to the point of lashing out. Every punch he threw expelled a little more of the rage burning inside him. If he couldn’t bury it, he would do the next best thing; beat the embers until he was exhausted, and they flickered out.

Bandages wound around his hands, providing a firm support to his knuckles and wrists. Raphael climbed into the ring, footsteps causing the plaster beneath him to creak. The structure of his high-schools boxing ring left much to be desired. At least it still functioned, though. He couldn’t ask for much more than that. The floor creaked a second time as another boy clambered over the ropes surrounding the ring. His opponent stood over him, a confident grin on his face.

“I’m gonna knock you on your ass,” Spike promised, backing into his corner of the ring while the duo waited for their match to begin. Raphael laughed at his friend's words, shaking his head. 

“Yeah?” He asked. Spike was cocky. Hell; so was Raphael. The difference between them was that Raphael just knew he would end up winning. He couldn’t be bothered with justifying how. There was something in his blood that wouldn’t let him lose. 

“Come try.”

His friend growled at the challenge, lunging at Raphael the second their coach gave them the go-ahead. He barely had time to duck beneath a large fist aiming for his head. Raising his arm, Raphael caught Spike’s wrist with his forearm. He twisted, sending his temporary foe stumbling away. Spike caught himself before he could fall and recovered in record time. He faked left and slammed his fist into Raphael’s stomach when the teen went to guard his face. Grunting, he doubled over, giving Spike the chance to grab his head in both hands. 

This’ll hurt. 

That was the first thought that raced across his mind when Spike’s knee rocketed upwards. Thrashing, Raphael dragged himself backwards, catching a knee to the forehead rather than his nose. The move was supposed to be against the rules, but his coach hadn’t called out to admonish Spike. Apparently, the rules had changed, and Raphael was the last to know. Fine by him. Quick as a viper, Raphael attacked. His knee slammed square into Spike’s stomach. When he bent over to guard against another blow to his gut, Raphael changed directives, throwing a right hook into the side of his head. Spike crumpled to the ground like a doll forsaken. Raphael couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty for the dirty move. Not after Spike had tried to break his nose.

“One!” Came a shout from the sidelines. Spike stirred. Quickly, Raphael knelt on him, driving his knee into his stomach. Resounding shouts of two and three were music to his ears. The match was concluded. Raphael had won. As swiftly as he’d pinned him, Raphael got up, offering his hand to Spike. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, helping his friend to his feet. Spike recoiled- quick to offer up a grin when Raphael’s brows drew together with another oncoming question.

“I’m fine,” he interrupted. “I’ll have to get ‘ya next time. Good fight.”

“Good fight,” Raphael echoed. Not really , a voice hissed inside his head. What the fuck did you try to break my nose for?

He shook off the thought. Everyone got carried away sometimes. He was no stranger to that himself. Spike was likely just having a rough day. Shrugging his shoulders, he climbed down from the ring, making his way to the bench he left his water bottle by. He barely had time to sit down before the benches other occupant struck up a conversation.

“You totally faltered,” said Cassandra Jones, wiping droplets of water off her lips. Without care of anything he might say, she set her own bottle down. Just as Raphael was undefeated in the men's division- she had the same reputation in the women's. As a result, they had some sort of odd friendship. If it could be called that.

“I didn’t,” he protested. “You’re makin’ shit up.”

“I don’t lie.” Cassandra shot him a look that made it clear she was offended. Or maybe that was just her natural appearance. Raphael was going to be honest; she constantly looked outraged no matter the emotion she was really feeling. “You let him wipe the floor with you.”

Raphael scoffed. Prickles rose along the back of his neck, hair rising. He didn’t like to lose. Even after he won, Cassandra somehow found a way to make him feel like the opposite happened. “Not how I remember it.”

Huffing, she got to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’m watching you,” she warned. “Stop throwing matches. I won’t be friends with that loser if he ends up replacing you.”

“No one asked you to-” already, she was gone. “I didn’t throw shit,” Raphael grumbled, justifying himself to thin air. “Raph doesn’t lose.”

If his brothers were there, they’d make fun of his use of third person. Standing up, he groaned as his back popped. Spike really had done a number on him when he’d dragged Raphael down to knee him in the face. He guessed Cassandra was right in a way. Usually, Raphael went on the offensive. For some reason today he just… didn’t feel like it. He still wouldn’t call that throwing the match. It was just a change in pace. He’d won!

“Doubtin’ myself. So much for a therapeutic experience.” He trudged to the men's locker room. It was already empty; everyone else had already cleared out. There was a reason Raphael liked to take so long to get changed. If he procrastinated, he had the entire room to himself. It was a win. 

He sat down and started peeling off the wraps on his hands, grimacing at the bruises on his knuckles. Some were old. Some were newly formed. The school couldn’t afford boxing gloves, and their sponsor didn’t seem to be in a hurry to provide them. That left Raphael with the second-best option, bandages. He resigned himself to his fate and balled up the bandages from his left hand, tossing them in the trash. As he started to unwrap his right fist, something dark darted across his forearm.

“Shit-” he stood quickly, swatting at the arachnid. His hands missed every strike. The little creature was impossibly fast, scurrying up his wrist and sinking its little fangs into the flesh of his hand. His palm finally made contact with the spider, killing it instantly. Not that it mattered. The thing had already bitten him. He flicked its corpse off his hand and frowned down at the tiny mark. It stung a surprising amount for something so small. He had a bad case of Hamato luck today.

“Whatever.” He grunted, grabbing his bag. He needed to head home; his brothers tended to worry easily. While Yoshi didn’t mind Raphael staying out a little bit later than normal without giving a notice in advance, Donnie, Mikey, and Leo were a different story. He left the locker room without a second glance back to the dead spider on the floor. The corpse that he left in his wake dissolved within minutes of him exiting the room, reduced to nothing more than a tiny puddle of green ooze.

꧁—꧂

The front door opened with a surprising gentleness. Trying to be as silent as possible, Raphael crept into the entryway of his home. Voices drifted to him from somewhere deeper within the house. He could easily recognize Leo’s boisterous laugh, followed by sputtering from Donnie that he couldn’t quite make out. A smile tugged at his lips. He tracked the noise to the kitchen and paused to take in the sight before him.

Leo sat on top of the kitchen counter, stirring a bowl of something with a wooden spoon. Donnie seemed to be trying to take the bowl away, tugging at it with all of the strength he had. “That’s unsanitary-” he was complaining. “-we make food there.”

It was a weekly argument between the twins by this point. Leo would sit on a surface that wasn’t meant to be sat on. Donnie would complain about the germs. Then, he would go and set some dirty piece of metal on the table five minutes later, to which Leo would complain that my ass is cleaner than that junk.

Raphael was used to it by now.

“Where’s Mikey?” He asked, noticing one member of the family was missing from the feud. The youngest Hamato brother was an agent of chaos through and through. Usually he was right beside Leo, hyping him up. That was until he would switch sides and say to Donnie personally, I wouldn’t take that.

He was an instigator. Raphael would find it funny if he wasn’t always cleaning up the mess that followed.

“Dunno,” Leo said. “Tell Donnie to get his wrinkled hands off my bowl.”

“Wrinkled? Scoff!” Donnie pulled harder. “Says you. You look like a toad.”

“Raph! He just said I look like a toad!”

“Don’t be mean, Donnie.” Raphael missed whatever Donnie said in response, his brothers fading to background noise when he noticed a flash of orange in the hallway moving between rooms. He almost moved to follow it, grimacing when his attention was brought back to the duo in the kitchen.

“Dude.” Leo's grip on the bowl suddenly went slack, nearly sending Donnie flying as the purple-clad twin happened to tug harder at the same time. He caught himself before he could fall, sparing Raphael a heart-attack. “What happened to your hand?”

“Huh?” The spider bite had completely left his mind when he couldn’t feel the pain anymore. Looking down at his hand, he quickly realized it had slipped his mind because it wasn’t there . The little incisions on the back of his hand were gone. Faded away like they never even existed. His confusion must’ve shown, because Donnie approached as well, seeming a little weirded out by Raphael just staring blankly at his hand.

“Your knuckles, Raph,” he said. “He’s talking about your knuckles. ”

“I knew that.” His gaze snapped away from where the bite had been, back to his knuckles. There was dried blood crusted onto his hand where his fist made contact with Spike’s head earlier. He would be the first to admit that it didn’t look good. Dark bruises popped out underneath the blood. His hand almost looked broken. 

“Jesus.” Leo turned away from him and took a paper towel from the roll by the sink, wetting it and coming back towards Raphael. “I thought you said you’d invest in some gloves.”

“I forgot them,” Raphael lied. That was something he said often. The first time he came back from boxing with a mangled hand, Donnie suggested he ask his coach for boxing gloves. Raphael said he would. He never did, though. Some part of him whispered that if he showed weakness, no one would want him in the club anymore. He would be an outcast. So, he didn’t ask for gloves. And then when Leo brought it up again, he lied and said the club just couldn’t provide them.

The dance continued. Leo said he should buy his own. Raphael said he would. Now, according to what he told his siblings, Raphael had a pair of gloves that he kept in his locker.

There were no gloves. Raphael was a liar. The guilt was crushing, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t lose the only outlet he had. He couldn’t tell his brothers about his fear, either. No doubt they would feel guilty for everything they asked of him. They’d feel responsible for the turmoil of emotions inside him. Raphael didn’t want that. He wanted them to confide in him. Wanted them to trust him. He just needed something to push his frustrations into, so he never snapped at them.

That being said, sometimes they made it hard to stay calm. 

“You forgot them,” Leo said dryly, rubbing the blood off of Raphael’s knuckles a little harder than he needed to. “Donnie, how many times have we heard that before?”

“Three,” his brother replied. The traitor. “This week.”

“Three times this week .” Leo narrowed his eyes up at his older brother. “Wow. Seems like a lot.”

“Yeah, it does.”

They were teaming up on him. Raphael ground his teeth together. “I’ve got no excuses,” he forced himself to say. “Just got distracted, I guess.”

“That’s an excuse,” Donnie said. Raphael felt his eye twitch. Thankfully at that very moment, his third brother entered the room to interrupt their conversation.

“Guys,” Mikey whined. He leaned himself against Raphael’s back, hanging off his older brother's arm. “Dad won’t give up the TV.”

“What’s wrong with the TV upstairs?” Raphael asked, pulling his hand away from Leo. His brother knew better than to protest- though the look in Leo’s eyes promised their conversation wasn’t over. Anxiety began to grow in Raphael’s stomach. He pushed it down.

“It’s small,” responded Mikey, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t like it.”

“You’re small,” Leo said. “We like you.”

Mikey’s expression became murderous. Raphael took the opportunity to escape when his brother released him, beginning to berate Leo in a high-pitched voice. Whatever was being said, the eldest brother completely missed it. He slipped out of the kitchen and made his way upstairs. His door opened and shut as he entered his room. He was quick to throw his backpack onto his desk and himself onto his bed. 

Raphael screamed into his pillow, muffling his voice as best as he could. Barely home for ten minutes, and he was already so anxious that he couldn’t breathe. He hated lying. He wasn’t like Leo. For him, lying was something that was hard. He had to put real thought behind everything he said. Leo liked to call himself the face man . He could get everyone to let their guard down with a few words.

He was jealous. All Raphael seemed to do was garner suspicion. Rolling onto his side, he scowled. He bet that if Leo claimed to forget something, everyone would let it go. Scratch that- everyone but Raphael. He was a bit of a hypocrite. That only served to frustrate him more.

“Stupid gloves,” he grunted, pulling his legs up to his chest. “Dumb brother.”

He didn’t really think Leo was dumb. He was just tired of his brother wanting to pick fights over everything. On top of that, he somehow always managed to get Donnie involved, who in turn dragged Mikey in until the conflict went from two to four ways. He knew his ways of coping with his anger weren’t exactly healthy in the long run. He should be talking about his feelings. Except that talking was scary. Talking left room for yelling.

Raphael refused to yell at his brothers. He would rather dig a hole, crawl into it, and die. Closing his eyes, he exhaled through his nose. He resolved to fall asleep. With any luck, he’d be out by the time Leo thought to continue their conversation. Then, in the morning they’d both be too busy getting ready for school to talk. By the end of the day Leo would forget all about how much he wanted to confront him.

The thought of avoiding conflict comforted Raphael. He quickly drifted off to sleep. His dreams were far from peaceful; plagued by creatures with eight legs and green eyes.

Chapter Text

The second Raphael woke up, it was like he’d been hit by a truck.

Pain blossomed behind his eyelids and swept through the rest of his head within seconds. He grit his teeth in a futile attempt to stop himself from crying out at the intensity of the pain racing through his veins. His entire body was alight. His muscles felt like they were being rearranged somehow. He hauled himself into a sitting position and firmly pressed his hand against his lips to muffle yet another sob. His other hand shook, fumbling around on his bedside table until his fingers closed around his phone. 

He picked it up with the intention to check what time it was. His groggy mind barely registered that his screen was beginning to crack, phone case creaking in protest at his tight grip. His reaction time was slow as he dropped the phone before it could completely break, his eyes wide. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the phone. It lay on the ground, its cracked screen illuminated and mocking. 

6:45

He needed to be ready for school by 7:00. How had he slept in so long? Raphael jumped to his feet, only to fall back onto his bed with a pained groan. His head felt as though there were weights in it trying to hold him down. His body felt way too small in comparison. The light streaming in through his windows was too bright. Yet, he knew he couldn’t just stay in bed. Then his family would worry. That was the last thing he needed; especially after Leo and Donnie had practically jumped him the night before with their concerns and sarcasm.

Pushing against the tidal wave of agony that swam through his blood, he got to his feet. One foot at a time. He trudged to his closet, the mantra echoing in his mind. One foot at a time. One step at a time. He reached the sliding door and pulled it open. Or at least that was what he tried to do. Raphael found himself holding half the door in one hand after it was ripped off its hinges. 

He ripped his fucking closet door off of its hinges. He stared for a second, stunned. His shock was short lived. His migraine attacked with a vengeance, trying to remind him that it was still there. As if he could forget. Raphael made a noise that was achingly similar to a whine, propping the door up against his wall. He’d fix it later, when he didn’t feel like his brain was about to explode all over his walls.

The process of changing into a new outfit for school was painfully slow. By the time he got his fumbling fingers to button his jeans, he knew it must be close to time to go. He wouldn’t have any time to eat. Maybe he could grab a protein bar or something- assuming Leo hadn’t eaten the last one.

Raphael picked up his backpack and shuddered. Its coarse fabric had never bothered him before. Yet now, as it rubbed against his hands, he found himself cringing. It physically hurt to touch the straps. He was quick to sling it over his back where it could touch his shirt instead of his skin. Then, he reached the most difficult part of his journey: going downstairs.

Every step he took jostled his brain. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was bumping into his skull each time he descended a step. Of course that wasn’t possible. It didn’t stop it from feeling that way.

Voices floated to him from the kitchen. Instead of making him smile, they made him wince. Were his brothers always so loud? Regular volume was suddenly a cacophony ripping at his ears with sharp, angry claws. Raphael had to force himself to keep walking, entering the kitchen even as his mind demanded that he go back upstairs and sleep more.

“Hey, Raph!” Leo’s voice was loud. Too loud. Raphael held up his hand to acknowledge him in a half-assed wave. His tongue felt too thick in his mouth to respond verbally. The room's temperature took a sharp plunge from normal to freezing . 

“Woah. You don’t look so good.” Leo’s voice became closer. Raphael could hear every step his brother took. He could even hear Leo breathing . He jolted away just before his brother could touch him, the thought of another thing on his skin making him want to vomit. 

“I’m fine,” he said. His own words felt like they were coming from somewhere far away. He held onto the kitchen counter for stability, his brows furrowing. “Shit.”

“Raph cursed,” Mikey whispered. Except it didn’t really feel like a whisper; Raphael could hear him loud and clear. He could hear everything. The anxious tapping of Donnie’s fingers against the kitchen table. The hitch in Leo’s breath that made it clear he was about to start talking. The buzzing of the lightbulbs that lit up the room the four brothers stood in.

“Are you sick?” Asked Leo.

“No,” Raphael said quickly. His gaze snapped towards his brother. He could see Leo’s incredulous expression. Behind him, he could see Mikey frowning. “No,” he amended, trying to sound more natural. “Just tired.”

“Dude, you’re sweating. It’s eighty degrees in here.” 

“I’m not-”

“Check for a fever,” Donnie suggested. “I think the thermometer is upstairs.”

“I’ll get it!” Mikey raced out of the kitchen. His steps were loud. Raphael could hear his footfalls as he ascended the stairs.

“I don’t have a fever.” He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, failing miserably. He couldn’t focus well enough to bury how he felt- all his energy went into staying standing.

“Right.” Donnie set his phone down, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “And you don’t look like you’re about to collapse.”

“Great. Because I’m not.” Raphael nodded. His brain screamed in pain at the motion.

“That was sarcasm, Raph.” 

“Got it!” Even though he was upstairs, he could hear Mikey like his brother was standing right next to him. Raphael flinched. Leo’s eyes narrowed.

“Okay, seriously.” He said. “How long has this been going on for?”

“What?” Raphael asked.

“This whole thing.” Leo waved his hand at Raphael, gesturing in a way that said all of this . 

“There’s nothing going on.” He grumbled, trying to take a step away from his brother and escape his scrutiny. Something stopped him. Not mentally: something physically kept his hand stuck to the kitchen counter. Raphael tugged with no results. His hand was stuck. Donnie tracked the motion.

“Is there something on your hand?”

“No! There’s nothing on my hand!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, and yet his volume spiked anyway. Donnie recoiled. Leo crossed his arms.

“Not cool, Raph,” he said. “Donnie’s just tryin’ to help.”

“I didn’t ask for his help! I’m fine.” Raphael blocked his hand from view by standing in front of it. 

“Let me check your temperature,” Leo said, grabbing the thermometer from Mikey. “You’re just sick. We’ll get you all better, and then you’ll pull your head out of your ass-”

He couldn’t let the thermometer touch his skin. Something inside of Raphael screamed . It told him it would be a bad idea to let his temperature be read. On top of that, it reminded him of how much his backpack touching his skin distressed him. It asked him if he really wanted another thing on him. In that blazing moment, his hand came unstuck, and he swiftly moved away from Leo.

“I told you, I’m fine.” 

“Bullshit!”

The lights were too bright. He could hear Mikey whispering something, but it felt like he’d been plunged in icy water. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t think. He could see Donnie’s lips moving. He could see Leo getting closer to him. Without thinking, Raphael ripped the thermometer out of his brother's hand.

“I said no ,” he snapped, forcefully slamming the device onto the kitchen counter. The room was suddenly quiet. Quiet and loud at the same time. No words were said, but he could hear his own heartbeat roaring in his ears. He could hear his little brother inhale sharply, and he could see the minute movement as Leo inched away from him. Barely noticeable- but Raphael saw it. His eyes widened. He turned his back on his brother and dashed through the house. Running past the living room, he could hear his father twisting in his chair to see what all the commotion was. 

“Raphael!” He yelled.

“Raph!” Someone else called after him as well. “Wait!”

He didn’t stop. Throwing himself out the front door, Raphael did the only thing that he could think of.

He ran.

꧁—꧂

New York was loud. Raphael always knew that, but it never really occurred to him until now. 

Speeding cars sent him stumbling into an alleyway to escape their sound. Voices screeched in his ears without anyone being next to him. He clamped his hands over the sides of his head and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. It hardly helped. Sound wriggled its way past his fingertips. Tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to overflow. 

After a while of standing there in an alleyway with his hands over his ears, his breath began to slow. With his panic subsiding, he noticed the sounds began to die down as well. Not to quite a normal volume, but definitely better than before. Maybe that was the key to stopping whatever was happening to him. Calming down. It was a long shot, but it had to be worth a try. Raphael dropped his hands back to his sides, allowing the sounds of New York to blast into his ears. He grimaced in pain. Whatever kind of migraine this was, it was worse than anything he’d been through before. Raphael forced himself to stand still and not cover his ears again. He made himself breathe.

In. Out.

He could hear his heartbeat slowing.

In. Out.

The sound of cars passing by became softer. He could no longer hear people talking inside the building behind him. 

In.

With a final exhale, he opened his eyes. Everything seemed back to normal. Unfortunately, without the cacophony of the city distracting him, all he could do was remember the argument he had with Leo. If it could even be called that. It was painfully one sided- Leo just wanting to help and Raphael losing his cool on him. With a groan, he leaned against the wall of whatever building was at his back. He wasn’t quite sure where he was- his blind panic had taken him far from home. It was probably time to go back.

The thought filled him with dread. His brothers might be missing school because of him. Instead of learning in their classes, they’d be out looking for him. There was no way their dad could convince them to just go about their day while Raphael was missing. Oh- his dad . Yoshi was probably worried about his eldest son. Yet, even as guilt crashed over him, he still didn’t want to return. Not really. Maybe that was why when he tried to force himself off of the wall, he found his hands stuck once again. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” He grunted, trying to pull his hands free. They were both stuck. He pulled harder and heard stones shifting. His hands were going to rip the damn wall apart if he kept tugging. Resigned, Raphael held still, his mind racing.

How was he doing this?

That was his first thought. He’d never gotten stuck to things before. 

“C’mon Raph,” he mumbled to himself. “‘S just sweat. Easy.”

Sweat doesn’t get you stuck to walls, idiot , the voice in his head- mini Raph admonished. 

“Not sweat then.” Talking to himself was helping him keep a somewhat level head. Maybe he wasn’t a genius like Donnie; but he at least still had some problem solving skills under his belt. “Think, Raph. Why are you stickin’ to shit?”

Nothing came to mind. He tried to think harder. Obviously, the weird stuff had started this morning. Maybe something went on in his sleep? Maybe he ate something weird? No- he skipped dinner the night before because he was avoiding Leo. Not food. It had to be something that happened sooner. Something out of the ordinary. Out of his routine.

The only thing that happened the day before that he didn’t plan on was the change of rules in his fight with Spike. Rule breaking didn’t usually cause people to stick to things like a weird little spider.

Wait.

In the locker room he was bit by a spider. There was no way a little bug caused all of this. Was there? He could go back and check. Maybe the little body was still in the locker room. Going back would confirm that everything was normal, and Raphael was just having a very weird day, and there was a totally natural reason for him sticking to walls and countertops. 

He made up his mind. He would investigate first. Put his mind at ease. Then, he would go home and apologize to his brothers. Everything would be fixed. They could forget all about his outburst and move on with their lives. 

His newfound resolve calmed him. With his heartbeat slowed once again, he found he was able to pull his hands off the wall. Panic was definitely the catalyst of his new curse. He would just have to be careful about his reactions. That shouldn’t be too hard.

Feeling hopeful, he set off towards the school.

꧁—꧂

Nothing could ever be simple.

Raphael completely forgot that school was still in session. He had to wait behind the gym while students went through a passing period. Once the cost was clear he hefted himself over the fence separating the school parking lot from the athletics block. It was surprisingly easy to lift himself over any obstacle in his way. His sticky hands were coming in useful. He reached the gym without issue and slipped inside, ducking past full practice rooms and narrowly avoiding a hall monitor on his journey to the boy's locker room.

Classes were in session. That meant he had twenty-five minutes to be in and out of the locker room without being noticed. Should be plenty of time. Raphael slipped into the locker room without incident, quickly glancing around for any stragglers. Satisfied that the room was empty, he approached his own locker.

“Okay, Raph,” he muttered. “Around here somewhere.”

He scanned the ground in front of his locker. No spider.

He peeked beneath the bench he undid his wraps on. No spider.

He did a once over of the entire floor, coming up completely spiderless. Was it possible the thing had survived? There was no way. He knew he killed it. He saw its body before. He returned to the bench and scanned the ground again, his eyes landing on a small patch of flooring that was darker than the rest. Raphael got onto his knees, mentally cringing at all the germs that were probably getting on his pants. Peering closer, he noticed the patch wasn’t just a darker gray. It seemed to be a dark green .

Raphael’s brows furrowed; his confusion evident. Throwing his worries about germs aside, he ran his finger along the green smudge. A chill ran up his spine.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong.

His mind cried in protest so loudly that he threw himself backwards, back slamming against the bench he had sat on just yesterday. He yelped in pain, curses rising to the tip of his tongue that he forced down at the last minute. Yelling cuss words would undoubtedly get him found. Then he would have to explain why he was skipping school in school.

Once his pulse lowered in intensity, he crawled forward again, examining the smudge. This was definitely where the spider died; there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind about it. But the spider hadn’t been green. It was black. And he hadn’t smeared the body. He’d just knocked it off his hand. It was like the spider had just disintegrated, leaving faded splotches in its wake.

Get evidence.

He reached into his pocket for his phone. It wasn’t there. He cursed himself, realizing he left it back home. There was no way for him to get any proof of what he was seeing. Groaning, Raphael stood up. 

Fine. No proof. He didn’t need any- it wasn’t like he planned to tell anyone else. What would he say? A weird spider bit me and now I stick to walls? Absolutely not. That was the fastest way to get committed somewhere. Maybe Leo was right. Maybe he was sick and this was all a weird fever dream. Or, maybe this was all real, and Raphael was some sort of weird spider-man-thing. He frowned down at the green splotch like it would start talking and tell him what to think.

It didn’t. Go figure.

A sound outside the door made him perk up, staring at the entrance to the locker room intently. Footsteps were approaching rapidly, and he could hear voices. He recognized one as his coach, Gus. The other was… Spike? His eyes widened. He couldn’t be found out. Especially not by his coach. The exit door was too far away- he wouldn’t make it in time before Gus and Spike could enter. Panicked, he reached for the door just as it started to open, holding out his hand like he could stop it. A strange tugging sensation gripped his wrist. Two silvery-thin ropes shot out, landing on the door and sealing it shut. Raphael stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping open.

Holding the door shut was a massive spider web.

The door jostled. “Hey!” Spike’s gruff voice called out. “It’s locked!”

Again, the door jolted. Raphael shook off his wonder and turned tail, fleeing out the exit door. He wasn’t sure how long those webs would hold, but he wasn’t about to risk it all to find out. Once outside he kept running. As he pulled himself onto the fence to leave school grounds entirely, the bell rang.

Students left their classes, swarming the courtyard. Raphaels escape was completely disguised from anyone who may have searched for him. He was home free.

꧁—꧂

“Where have you been?”

That was the first thing Hamato Yoshi said to Raphael when he finally made it home. 

“Your brothers were worried sick,” his dad continued, paying the excuse Raphael tried to come up with no mind. “I was worried sick, too. You could have been kidnapped!”

“I’m sorry, pops.” Raphael cringed at the look Yoshi shot him. Not the best time for lighthearted nicknames, then. “I just got a little freaked out. Needed some air.”

“And you couldn’t bring your phone with you?”

“It… slipped my mind?”

Yoshi stared at him. For a moment, Raphael was convinced his father would start yelling. Then all he did was sigh. “Goodness, boy. You’re the reason I have gray hair.”

“Sure that’s not because you’re old?”

Raphael startled, looking towards the hallway. Leo stood in it; his arms crossed. Yoshi looked between his sons.

“This once, I will let that slide,” he declared, surprising Raphael. Usually, his father clapped back with something equally witty. Leo seemed equally shocked. Their father left the room, leaving the two brothers alone.

“Leo-”

“Look-”

Both brothers tried to speak at the same time. Raphael tried again in the awkward silence that followed.

“Leo,” he said. “I didn’t mean to yell at ‘ya. I’m sorry. I was just overwhelmed.”

“You’ve gotta apologize to Donnie too,” his brother said. “...but I forgive you.”

Some of the nervous tension left Raphael’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t mention it. Just- don’t run off again, yeah? That was a little scary. ‘Specially for Mikey.”

Raphael cringed. In his haste to escape the altercation with the twins, he completely forgot he worried his youngest brother as well. “I’ll talk to him,” he said. Leo nodded and turned, leaving Raphael alone in the home's entryway with his thoughts. Sighing, he too made his way upstairs. Instead of going to his own room, he approached a different door. This one had bright spray-painted shapes all over its surface, leaving barely any blank space to be seen. Raphael hesitated for a moment with his fist lifted before he knocked.

“Mikey?” He called softly. “It’s me?”

Silence. Raphael was almost ready to leave and give his little brother space when suddenly the door was flung open and a tight grip on his wrist was dragging him forward. Raphael yelped. The door slammed behind him, sealing his fate. Before him was Mikey, his eyes glassy.

“I thought you ran away!” His little brother yelled, letting go of Raphael’s arm. “You just- poof! Ran off! You didn’t even take your phone!”

He winced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have- oomph-”

He was interrupted, his brother rocketing forward and hugging him tightly. For someone so small, Mikey had a weirdly strong grip.

“If you ever do that again,” he warned in a whisper. “I will bring out Doctor Delicate Touch.”

Raphael gulped, knowing his brother's famed alter ego too well. “Got it.” After giving the threat time to settle, he wrapped his arms around Mikey, returning his brother's hug. “Sorry for scarin’ you, little man.”

“Don’t call me that.” Mikey jabbed his side with two fingers, a move that Leo undoubtedly taught him to get Raphael right in the squishy part of his side. “You’re forgiven.”

꧁—꧂

Apologies with two brothers were out of the way. That left only one. Donnie’s door was partially open- he probably already knew Raphael was on his way after hearing the commotion in Mikey's bedroom. Still, he knocked on his brother's doorframe, peeking inside.

“Donnie?” He called out.

“Come in.” His brother was sat at his desk, typing furiously on his computer. His glasses were pushed up onto his forehead, keeping his fringe of curly hair from his face. He didn’t turn around to look at Raphael.

He hoped the choice was because he was invested in his work and not because he found Raphael scary now.

“Listen I’m- I’m sorry.” Raphael side-leaned against his brother's door frame. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“I understand.” Donnie paused his typing. “You didn’t want to be touched. Leo and I were going to try and touch you anyway to get your temperature.”

“I- what?” The shift of blame from Raphael to the twins was unexpected. “No, it’s fine, you were just worried, it happens.”

“Raph.” Donnie spun in his chair, now facing his brother. “I don’t like physical contact. You know that. I snap when my space is invaded. Yeah?”

“Yeah, but-”

“I didn’t ask for you to argue, it was a yes or yes question.” Donnie crossed his arms. “You had a boundary. We went against it. You were allowed to be upset and yell. That’s not what I want an apology for.”

Realization dawned on Raphael a little later than it should’ve. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For running off. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Apology accepted.” He swore he could see Donnie relax a little. His younger brother was clearly just as anxious as Raphael had been about this conversation- maybe even more. “You know I… care about you a lot.”

That was as close to an I love you as Raphael was going to get from his brother. A smile tugged at his lips.

“I know, Donnie,” he said. “I care about you too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Donnie spun his chair back around. “Sentimental moment over. Don’t make me emotional.”

Raphael laughed. “Goodnight, Don,” he said. He turned and left the room, feeling a bit more at ease than he did an hour ago.

Chapter Text

Raphael had a new mission. It was called Operation: Ignore the Obvious. So far, it was going alright. He got dressed while ignoring the fact that his closet door was still missing. He made his way downstairs to eat, deciding to treat the day like it was normal and he hadn’t just discovered he had freak spider abilities. Maybe if he didn’t pay attention to them for long enough, they would disappear. Or something like that.

He was the first of his siblings to reach the kitchen. Yoshi, however, was already there, cracking an egg into a frying pan. Raphael had to pause in the kitchen entryway just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. A few blinks later and nothing changed. Hamato Yoshi was making breakfast. Wearing normal clothes and not just an old bathrobe. His dad finally noticed Raphael’s staring, looking back at him with a judgmental glare.

“What are you looking at?” He demanded. Quickly, Raphael averted his eyes.

“Uh-”

He was spared by the arrival of Mikey, who seemed equally surprised.

“Woah!” His younger brother cried. “You’re in a shirt!”

Yoshi seemed exasperated, sighing. “Okay, Michelangelo-”

“Dad’s in a shirt?” Leo joined the fray, peeking into the kitchen over the top of Mikey’s head. His eyes quickly widened. “Wow. Didn’t know he could do that.”

“Boys!” Yoshi crossed his arms. “Do not ridicule me for doing something nice for you. I will go change if you-”

“Wait!” Raphael finally snapped out of his stupor at the threat. “Don’t do that. We’re just… hungry! Right, guys?”

Mikey and Leo were quick to nod in sync. Yoshi eyed the trio suspiciously. He eventually accepted the excuse- even if he didn’t seem to believe it. 

“Very well,” he said. “Sit! I made breakfast.”

The three brothers sat down. As he grabbed out plates, their dad looked them over once. Then twice. This time, his lips moved as he counted. One. Two. Three…

“Where is purple?” He asked.

Leo shrugged. “He said he had something important to do.”

“More important than family bonding?” Yoshi asked. “Nonsense. Go and get him.”

“But dad ,” whined Leo. “You know how he gets. He’s probably going to try to eat me or something.”

“Donnie's not that bad,” Mikey objected. Leo’s ire immediately turned his way.

“Fine!” He huffed. “You go get him, then.”

Mikey suddenly found his breakfast very entertaining, focusing intently on poking at his egg with his fork. Seeing that he lost, Leo relented, getting out of his seat and going upstairs to collect his twin. The rest of breakfast passed the way it usually would- banter that passed between Leo and Donnie eventually spreading to Mikey. From there, Raphael would find himself sucked in. He was all too happy to participate today. Banter was normal. He was going to have a nice, normal day.

꧁—꧂

This was not a normal day.

“Dad!” Leo cried. “Oh, this is why you’re my favorite parent!”

Yoshi stood in the living room, holding five tickets to the newest Jupiter Jim movie with a smug look on his face as he presented them to his sons.

“Thank you, blue,” he said. He then stopped in his tracks. “I… am your only father.”

Manic laughter bubbled out of Leo at his own joke. Raphael wasn’t fully listening. He was excited to see Jupiter Jim- he loved the whole franchise! That being said, it was far from the family norm. First Yoshi dressed himself. Then he made breakfast. Now he wanted to see a movie?

“Does anything seem weird about all this to you?” He asked, leaning over to whisper to Mikey.

“Uh, no.” His younger brother shook his head. “This is totally awesome ! Jupiter Jim, right up there on the big screen! We’re going to see him up close.”

“Yeah, but-” Raphael paused. Mikey was right. He was so on edge from the spider ordeal that he was trying to make a big deal about nothing. “You’re right. This is cool.”

“It’s more than cool, my dear brother.” Leo joined the conversation, popping up between the youngest and eldest brothers. “It’s fucking amazing.”

“That’s a synonym for cool,” said Donnie. “Which would normally make what you just said invalid, except for the fact that you’re right, this is amazing.”

“Are you saying I’m right, Don?” Leo leaned against his brother. “C’mon. Say the words. I want to hear them.”

Donnie side-stepped him, allowing Leo to fall face-first onto the back of the family sofa. “Anyways. I need to change. I’m not going to the movies dressed like a loser. Cough, cough.”

Leo said something that was muffled by the couch cushions. Donnie took his unintelligible answer as a sign he’d won, turning and leaving him behind. Raphael watched his brother go. Then, he looked back down at Mikey.

“Leo hasn’t moved in a while,” he observed. “Couch might’a killed him.”

“He hasn’t,” Mikey agreed. “Probably did.” Then his little brother turned on his heel and left the room as well. Raphael got the memo, choosing to abandon Leo to his fate.

꧁—꧂

The auditorium had been packed. It took forever to get to their seats. Then, once the movie ended, it took forever to get back out. Jupiter Jim was popular (rightfully so, in Raphael’s very educated opinion). It seemed like ages before the brothers and their father were out on the sidewalk exiting the theater. Leo chattered on about how he wanted to tattoo the movie onto the backs of his eyelids so he could watch it forever.

Raphael told him that was disturbing. Donnie said he could arrange it.

“Boys,” Yoshi interrupted. “How about some dinner?”

“Dinner?” Asked Leo. “Dinner and a movie? I normally say this about Donnie, but demon possession .”

“Wow, thank you, Leo, he said without a trace of sarcasm,” Donnie retorted dryly. Mikey snickered at his brother's narrations.

“I am not possessed.” Yoshi scoffed. “I’m simply doing something nice for my sons.”

“He wants something,” Mikey whispered. “Don’t give in.”

“I can hear you!” Their father huffed, much to the amusement of his sons, who all laughed. Raphael was the first to recover.

“Sorry, pops,” he said. “Dinner is great.”

“Yeah, what he said.” Leo nodded. “Watching Jupiter Jim get to try space waffles made me hungry. Think there’s a diner nearby?”

“There’s one down the street,” Donnie chimed in. “I was looking up places to eat while you were talking- you’re welcome.”

“I’d say thank you if you weren’t so smug about it.” Leo sniffed.

Conversation continued like that. Raphael was content to fall into silence as his brothers continued their back and forth. His day had been alright; setting aside his initial concerns about his dad's weird behavior. It was one of the best days he had in a long while. One of the most stress free, too. He suddenly felt an inkling of suspicion in his mind, falling behind the group to walk next to his dad.

He had a heartfelt conversation about his running away with every family member last night- save for one. Now it was all starting to fit into place in his mind. 

“So,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Our favorite movie and a good dinner afterwards.”

“Is a father not allowed to spoil his sons every once in a while?” Yoshi retorted. His defensiveness only solidified Raphael’s belief. 

“I’m not going to leave again.”

Donnie, Mikey, and Leo had gotten a ways ahead of the father and son duo. Still, Yoshi eyed them. Raphael guessed he was trying to see if they were still in earshot. His shoulders slumped in a way that was uncharacteristic. Yoshi rarely showed genuine negative emotion in front of his sons. He was all jokes through everything- something he clearly passed onto Leo.

“I worried you would not come back,” he confessed. “That maybe if I did this it would… I don’t know. Show you there was something worth staying for. That you don’t need to leave.”

They both had stopped walking. A frown pulled at Raphaels lips. He quickly made a decision, pulling Yoshi into a tight hug.

“You’re worth staying for,” he said, guilt weighing like a stone in his stomach for the worry he’d put his father through. It was hard to tell when Yoshi was hurt until it was already too late, thanks to the aforementioned love of joking he had.

Yoshi stood still for a moment. Then, he returned the hug.

“When did you get so tall?” His father asked, causing Raphael to laugh. Their moment was interrupted by Donnie’s voice.

“This is very sweet,” he said. He was closer than before. He must’ve doubled back to retrieve his father and brother when he realized they weren’t following the group anymore. “But I’m starving . Please hug once we’re inside, thank you.”

Both Yoshi and Raphael laughed. The former gave his son one final look.

“I’m happy you chose to come back, Raphael,” he said. He quickly rejoined Leo and Mikey outside the diner, entering with them. Only Donnie and Raphael were left outside. Donnie gave Raphael a look like he was considering him. Then, he nodded, turning and walking into the restaurant. It felt like approval. Smiling to himself, he followed.

꧁—꧂

Todd’s Diner was a sweet establishment. Painted in an array of warm colors, it gave off a comforting vibe- though, in Raphael’s opinion, there were a few too many pictures of puppies to be considered normal. Todd, whoever he was, had an obsession. 

The family seated themselves at a circular booth towards the back of the diner, looking over menus together. On the menus were, unsurprisingly, more puppy pictures.

“Dude,” Leo said. “What’s with the dogs?”

“I think they’re cute.” Mikey opened the Menu up. “Look! This one has an apron on!”

“Oh, wow.” Raphael leaned in to get a closer look. “He’s like a little chef.”

The ringing of a bell cut through the air as the diner door opened. A chill prickled at Raphael’s spine. It quickly transformed into a full body sensation. He glanced towards the door while his family was distracted, noting the duo who had just walked in. The taller of the two was wearing a mask that covered the lower half of his face. His hands were dug into his pockets as he approached the desk Todd was sitting behind. With every step he took, anxiety sunk its claws tighter into Raphaels chest. He could barely breathe when the stranger reached his destination, looming over Todd, who didn’t seem to sense the danger he was in like Raphael did.

Everything happened at once. The second man- the bigger one- stood in front of the door, successfully cutting off the building's main exit. At the same time, the skinny man pulled what appeared to be a metal rod out of his pocket. He flicked it, violet light spreading across the stick of metal. It shifted, thicker end dropping down to form a handle. A trigger.

A gun.

“Nobody move!” The skinny man yelled. He wrenched Todd out of his seat, pulling him up.

By now, everyone's attention was on the action.

“Shit,” Leo breathed. “ Todd .”

“We can escape out the back,” Raphael whispered in a hushed voice. “If we stay low to the ground, they won’t notice us.”

“We can’t just leave him here!” Argued Leo. Raphael could feel his eye twitch.

“What are we supposed to do?” He whisper-shouted. “The best thing to do is call the cops and-”

Yoshi slid across the table right in front of him. Raphael reached out to grab him, but his dad was surprisingly nimble. He was walking towards the man with a gun before any of his sons could even cry out to him.

“What is this?” He asked. “There’s no good reason to hold such a nice man at gunpoint.”

“Was I not clear?” The skinny man asked. He looked back towards his buddy. “You heard me, right? When I said nobody move?”

“Yeah,” his friend said gruffly. “I heard ‘ya. Maybe the old guy can’t hear.”

“Maybe the old guy can’t hear.” The man bent down to be eye level with Yoshi, who had admittedly shortened in his age. “Can you hear me, guy?”

Yoshi gave him a placating smile. “Yes,” he said. “Quite perfectly.”

Then, he headbutted the man, sending him stumbling backwards with a string of curses. His grip on Todd faltered, allowing the man to run down the hallway to the emergency exit- the exit the Hamatos should have used the second a gun-wielding maniac stepped into the diner. Raphael was frozen in place as his dad grabbed a plate off of a nearby table and threw it. The glass shattered over the big guy's head. It effectively did nothing. In that time, the man who originally had the gun regained his bearings. 

“Grab him!” He roared.

The other masked man- likely his underling- raced forward, arms spread to grab Yoshi. Yoshi dodged to the side, though he was caught by the collar of his shirt and yanked backwards.

“Dad!” Mikey shouted, standing up. Donnie quickly yanked him back down into their hiding spot behind the table just as the man holding Yoshi looked in their direction. Mikey looked furious. His eyes were filled with tears- something that made Raphael feel even more helpless than before. There was nothing he could do against a gun. Nothing he could do as Yoshi was hefted into the air, a hand sliding around his throat. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

The four brothers stayed crouched just behind their table, watching the scene unfold with horror. Just as it seemed they were going to watch their father die, the skinny man began to curse again. Raphael didn’t know what he was so upset about until he could finally register sound beyond his own pounding heart.

Sirens.

“Clerk called the cops,” the man hissed. “Drop him. We have to go.”

Almost seeming reluctant, the man choking Yoshi dropped him, stepping over his prone form and following his partner out the back exit. The second they were gone Raphael flipped the table over completely, racing around it to get to his father. He could faintly hear the sound of his brothers doing the same. Yoshi coughed, rubbing at his throat with his hands.

“Dad-” Mikey grabbed one of Yoshi’s hands tightly. He grimaced at the hold his son had on him, yet he was quick to smile again.

“All fine in the end,” he said. His voice was hoarse from being choked. Leo, Donnie, and Mikey immediately began to fill the silence with questions. Questions like what were you thinking? Are you okay? How did you do that?

Seconds later, the door burst open. The cops had arrived.

꧁—꧂

Everyone in the diner was questioned. That included the brothers. Through the questioning they found out it was Todd who ended up calling the police, frantically stating that his diner was being robbed and there were still people inside. Soon after questioning began, a single ambulance arrived. Yoshi was looked over and eventually given the all clear to go home. He was lucky, the paramedic had said. He escaped the encounter with only mild bruising and a light concussion. Still, driving was advised against. Raphael ended up being the one to take his family home. Being sixteen years old, he got his license the previous month. Back when everything was normal and his father didn’t try to get himself killed fighting crime.

The drive back home was completely silent. Raphael left the job of looking after Yoshi to his brothers. He was too ashamed to look his father in the eyes. While Mikey, Donnie, and Leo stuck by their dad's side, Raphael darted upstairs, slamming his door behind him. His head was pounding, the threat of a migraine encroaching on him. He sat down on the edge of his bed and clutched his head in his hands. Over and over, the scenario replayed in his mind. He could do nothing. He was helpless, sitting idly by as his father nearly had his life stolen. Would he have continued to sit there if Yoshi died? Would he stay seated after his fathers body hit the ground, never to joke or smile again? 

Raphael could’ve stopped it if he was stronger. A strangled sob clawed its way out of his throat. If he was stronger, he would’ve saved Todd so Yoshi didn’t have to. Nothing would have happened in the first place. If he was stronger. He wiped his eyes, his tear filled gaze landing on the corner of his room where his discarded door still leaned over the wall.

If.

The tears stopped coming. He sat and stared for an uncertain amount of time. 

If he was stronger.

Normal people didn’t rip doors off their hinges when they were just trying to open them. Normal people didn’t stick to walls- didn’t shoot webs out of their skin. Normal people couldn’t stop catastrophic events from happening. Normal people couldn’t save their fathers from robberies. But Raphael wasn’t normal anymore, was he? He was different now. He was stronger. He wiped the last of his tears from his face and stood up, looking down at his hands. 

Slowly, he clenched them into fists.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, training was a difficult thing.

Raphael’s knuckles were beyond the point of stinging. The sharp pain that assaulted him when he first began his workout was gone, dulled and replaced by only a faint ache. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. More likely than anything, it was bad, and Donnie would be able to tell him why. But Donnie wasn’t here right now. Donnie was in class, and Raphael wasn’t, because he was working out.

Again and again his fists slammed into the bag before him. Bandages wrapped intricately around his hands and wrists, bound just right to prevent a break, but not providing the cushioning that gloves would. Raphael didn’t have time to rely on gloves. He needed to be stronger- better. He needed to make sure nothing could hurt his family again. His fist hit the bag again. Again after that. Something shone on the foamy surface, something red, and-

The bag flew off of its hook, crashing into a distant wall. Raphael stopped, panting, staring at the empty space where the bag had just been. He didn’t unclench his fists. He stayed poised for a fight, even though the thing he had been fighting was gone. It was like he was frozen. He couldn’t make himself move. Not until the gym doors opened, and a figure stood there, watching him. His head turned. Cassandra said nothing, looking from him to the bag that laid on the ground.

“Alright,” she said. “Outside.”

He didn’t argue.

꧁—꧂

Not many students had access to the roof of the school. Safety reasons. You couldn’t have a bunch of kids running around so high up with little barriers to protect them from the ground below. Only those on the student council- or club leaders- had the keys that provided an entry to the rooftop.

Cassandra Jones was neither of those things. She was, however, very good at picking locks.

Raphael followed her wordlessly up the rickety ladder in the back of the gym's maintenance closet, letting the door slip shut behind him once they were both out. Cassandra didn’t speak. She didn’t acknowledge him; instead walking towards the edge of the rooftop and sitting down there. Her head tilted back. Raphael slowly approached her like one would a wild animal. In many ways, Cassandra was similar to one. Quick to react, quick to defend. Even quicker to attack. Whether verbally or physically, she was always on the defensive. He knew that was one of the reasons- and maybe the only real one- that she stuck around him. Not because they were both winners, but because they were both damaged in some way.

He didn’t know when he’d started thinking of himself that way. Like he was something broken. Raphael used to have a high opinion of himself. Not enough to be narcissistic- but he’d liked himself. Liked his teeth and his face, liked his personality. Liked his strength. The timeline of him slowly beginning to hate those very same things was a blurred one, and he’d never thought to keep track of it.

Cassandra’s expression was impossible to gauge with her looking up at the sky. The most he could make out from where he sat across from her was the bottom half of her jaw. He looked up as well, but he couldn’t find what she saw in the great expanse of blue. Just as he was about to speak, she beat him to it.

“Gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“You know what.” Cassandra looked back down, tearing her attention from the sky. The gaze that she pinned him with was reminiscent of Leo’s. A fact that Raphael found funny, considering how different they were. “You’ve been hoggin’ the gym for days. Now you’re wreckin’ it.”

“‘M not wreckin’ shit,” he replied. “I just don’t know my own strength. It happens.”

“ Your own strength doesn’t send shit flyin’.”

He balled his hands into fists in his lap, gripping the baggy fabric of his pants tightly. The bandages were still wrapped around his limbs. He could see the blood that soaked into the once white material. The injuries on his knuckles. Cassandra’s eyes followed his. She didn’t soften- he didn’t think she was capable- but she stopped pushing. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders, swinging her bag onto her lap so she could rummage through it. Raphael watched as she pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol from it. Rubbing alcohol, and a cloth. His brows drew together.

“Why do you have that?”

She poured some of the alcohol onto the cloth.

“Cass.”

“You’re not the only person here who likes a little overtime. I work hard.” She grabbed his hand, and he struggled not to instantly pull it back. “You’re just the only one stupid enough to not treat his own shit.”

He scoffed. The scoff transformed into a hiss of pain. Alcohol made contact with injury, and it was excruciating. His knuckles stung all over again while Cassandra meticulously cleaned his wounds. When his right hand was done, she moved onto his left. Throughout the ordeal, Raphael didn’t question her. The friendship they had was… odd, to say the least. But that wasn’t a bad thing. After she was satisfied with her work, she packed her supplies back up, and Raphael was left sitting there in complete silence. He stared at a patch of concrete, and it was near impossible to pull his eyes from it.

“Raph.” Fingers snapped by his face. He jolted and looked back up. Cassandra was frowning.

“I don’t know what’s up with you,” she said. “You’re usually on the top of your game.”

“I’m still on top.”

“No, you’re not. I told you I won’t be friends with a loser.”

His nails dug into his palms. “I’m not a loser. I’m trainin’, aren’t I?”

“Why?” She challenged. “Practice was enough for you. Now you’re in all the time.”

“I want to get better.”

“Why?”

“I just do!” It was too hot outside. His clothing felt like it was too heavy. His skin itched. It crawled, goosebumps rising to the surface of his flesh, pinned down by his jacket and pants. He was suffocating.

Cassandra reeled backwards, and he instantly felt guilty for yelling. It was like all he did was yell. Before, he’d had a handle on his anger. Now it felt like it was constantly threatening to overflow. A pot of water that was going to boil over at any second, and he was powerless to stop it. 

“What happened?” She asked. 

He had expected her to yell back in her typical fashion. Cassandra Jones didn’t take shit from anyone. Especially not him. Raphael stared at her.

“What?”

“What happened?” She repeated. “I know somethin’s up with you. Might as well let it out.”

“Nothin’s up with me.”

“You’re havin’ a panic attack right in front of me!” She gestured wildly at him. “Or somethin’ close to it. Look, whatever it is, it’s between us. Alright?”

Raphael hesitated. Nothing was supposed to be wrong. He was supposed to be fine. He was fine.

Except he wasn’t, and everything was falling apart, and it was all his fault.

“Dad got hurt.”

“Mr. Hamato?”

Raphael nodded. Cassandra exhaled.

“Christ.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his forearm. “An’ there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it.”

“How could you?” She asked incredulously. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re a kid. Nothin’ you can do. He’s okay, isn’t he?”

You’re wrong, he wanted to say. I could’ve done anything. I’m not a normal kid. There’s something wrong with me. I could’ve helped him.

“I guess,” he said instead.

“There you go.” Cassandra nodded. “Look. This feeling stuff- I’m not good at it. But if you still feel like you have to train, I can give you a better sparring partner than that bag of sand.”

Raphael nodded back. To his surprise, a genuine smile- albeit a small one- came to his face.

“Thanks, Cass.”

She wrinkled her nose. 

“That nickname sucks,” she said. “Call me Casey.”

“Alright.” He lifted his hands in surrender. “Thanks, Casey.”

꧁—꧂

The talk with Casey didn’t fix all his issues. But it did remind him to be more careful. And, it reminded him that the only aspect of his new abilities wasn’t strength. The wall-sticking needed to be addressed. 

Raphael stood in the alleyway between a convenience store and a DMV, his hood pulled up whilst he gazed up the building. It wasn’t nearly as high as other buildings in the area. Maybe five stories. He sucked in a breath and slapped his hands against the wall before him. Nothing. He tried to remember what it felt like when he was stuck before. Was there supposed to be some sort of suction feeling? Something else to let him know he was doing it right? Raphael frowned, tugging. His right hand came loose. But his left-

It stuck.

“Okay, Raph,” he whispered to himself. “You’ve got this.”

He placed his right hand a little higher on the wall and pushed off with his feet. At first he slipped, scrabbling for purchase. Then he stuck. He pulled a few times. He was firmly in place- both hands suctioned to the wall. He let out a laugh of disbelief.

“Shit.”

It was a good thing none of his brothers were there. Raphael would have had to contribute to the family swear jar. That, and he’d have to explain how he was sticking to a wall. Which definitely wasn’t ideal. 

Cautious, he moved his left hand up. It moved naturally. He didn’t know how he was sticking and unsticking- only that he was. It felt normal. Like he was supposed to be climbing up walls, and he was born doing so, even though he knew damn well that wasn’t the case. Raphael moved rhythmically. Right hand. Left hand. Right foot. Left foot. He climbed higher and higher, until before he knew it, he was on top of the roof. He hauled himself up and collapsed onto his stomach, lying there for a moment. Then, he let out a loud whoop- a shout of victory. He pulled himself to his feet and looked over the side of the building.

He’d just climbed five stories. With his hands . That was insane . This whole thing was insane. Again, he laughed, completely breathless with his awe. He fell back onto his rear, sitting on the edge of the roof. Once the initial awe wore off, he was unsure of what to do with himself. He could tear doors from their hinges. Hit hundred pound bags of sand across rooms. Scale walls with his hands.

And shoot webs. He couldn’t forget about the webs- even though he didn’t really understand how they worked. He held his hand up and turned it over, palm facing upwards so he could see his wrist. He scrutinized his skin. Nothing seemed out of place with it. He clenched his hand into a fist.

Nothing.

He jerked his arm a little. Still, nothing. He held out his pointer finger and did the same. Nada.

“Web, go,” he commanded- because fuck, maybe it was verbal. Then he felt stupid, because he hadn’t been talking in the locker room, so it made no sense for it to be verbal.

Raphael tried multiple different gestures. He even tries his other hand. It wasn’t until he threw his arm forward in one final fit of frustration that a silvery web launched outwards, latching onto the opposite roof. He stared at it with wide eyes. Then, experimentally, pulled his wrist back. 

Nothing. The web didn’t give. It was strong - stronger than he ever would have expected. But how strong? That was the question.

He glanced over the edge of the roof. Five stories.

He yanked on the web again. It didn’t give.

He looked at the roof. Then the web. Then the roof. Then the web again.

Didn’t Donnie say the best way to get results was to take a leap of faith? Raphael was certain he hadn’t meant for his quote to be used in this context, but his point still stood. The teen got up and bounced on the balls of his feet, psyching himself up.

“C’mon Raph. One way to know.”

With a loud, terrified yell, he leapt off the rooftop before he could have any time to second guess himself.

The second he was airborne he second guessed himself.

“Fuck!” He screamed, hurtling towards the ground. He never hit the ground. Instead, he swung forward, hurtling instead for the wall. Raphael panicked and thrust his other arm out towards an adjacent building. A web flew from his wrist. He yanked the old one. It released, and he was sent careening in the opposite direction. Again, he screamed, and the process repeated. Building to building- web to web. After a while, the screaming stopped, and the laughing began.

It was like he was flying .

The wind on his face was exhilarating. He catapulted himself from building to building. As he passed one building, he saw a man looking out the window from the corner of his eye, sipping coffee. The mug promptly dropped to the ground when Raphael swung by.

He laughed at that, too.

For the first time since he’d been bitten by that spider, his heart was free of all heaviness. He felt amazing. He felt invincible. 

He felt like a real superhero.

꧁—꧂

He was on the couch watching one of Jupiter Jims older movies when he heard it. Mikey gasped. Normally, he wouldn’t be concerned, because Mikey gasped at everything . However, it was when Mikey thrust his phone into his face and Raphael spotted a blurry picture on it that he immediately felt all the blood drain from his face.

The photo was near impossible to make out. He still recognized it anyway. A blurry figure dressed in red caught mid air between two buildings.

It was him . Of course it was. He was swinging around in broad daylight. Raphael wanted to punch himself in the teeth.

“Look,” Mikey said excitedly. “This guy has superpowers.”

“No, Michelangelo,” Donnie leaned over the back of the couch. Raphael jumped. He hadn’t heard him coming, even with his new freaky senses. “He just has access to good tech. Everyone knows superpowers aren’t real.”

“Oh yeah?” Their little brother challenged. “If his tech’s so good, why’s his outfit so ugly?”

Raphael coughed.

“I don’t know.” Donnie scoffed. “Most technological geniuses- such as myself- understand the importance of a good outfit. However, not everyone can be as gifted-”

“Is someone hungry?” Raphael asked. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“Not now, Raph.” Mikey pat his shoulder. “This is important. We’ve got a superhero running around. Isn’t that cool?”

“He could be a supervillain too,” Donnie pointed out. “Or just a genius. As I said. I would love to know how he’s managing to use his arms for mobility without ripping them off.”

“Duh, superpowers.”

“No, Michael.”

Raphael got up off the couch, swiftly escaping from the room. It put him on edge to hear his siblings talking so openly about him without even knowing it. He stumbled up the stairs. Before he could get to his bedroom, the door to Leos opened, and his brother stepped out wearing a set of pajamas. He seemed surprised to see Raphael.

“Hey, man.” He said. “I just found the freakiest thing. Check it out-”

Even as he lifted his phone, Raphael was already dodging around him, opening his bedroom door. “Sorry, I have homework, bye!”

His door slammed shut in Leo's face. He was quick to lock it, turning and pressing his back against the wood. His breath came quickly. His heart pounded. Raphael inhaled sharply and exhaled just as fast, like someone was punching the breath straight from his lungs. He forced himself to breathe in again.

Clearly, he couldn’t keep running around in his regular clothes. Someone would end up recognizing him. His eyes wandered to his closet. A perk of being a massive fan of Jupiter Jim- and Lou Jitsu, who happened to be Hamato Yoshi- he’d learned a bit of costume design. Nothing amazing. Nothing even really… good. But definitely something that could hide his face. That would have to be good enough.

꧁—꧂

The costume was shoddy. That was putting it generously. A red mask sewn from the fabric of an old party city cape, stitched to old goggles that would protect his eyes from the wind. That, plus an old jacket that he had altered slightly- covering logos with patches and adding red seems to already black fabric. He had faith that it was enough to keep the clothing from being recognizable to his brothers.

Raphael dressed in his creation and stared at his reflection.

“Jesus,” he said.

He looked ridiculous. But a disguise was a disguise. He couldn’t really afford to be picky. Raphael shrugged his shoulders, testing the mobility of the costume. It wasn’t bad. The jacket still fit- even if it was a little tight around the shoulders. He’d cut holes by his wrists to allow space for his webs to come out. As far as he could tell, the costume worked just fine, but there was really only one way to be certain.

He waited until midnight. All his brothers were asleep- except for Donnie, but Donnie wouldn’t come knocking anyway. He was glued to his computer. Raphael carefully unlatched his window and popped it open. The cool night air rushed in to greet him like an old friend. He crawled out onto his windowsill and took a deep breath.

“Please, work,” he murmured, grabbing onto the wall. He stepped off the sill.

He stuck to the wall. 

Hanging by one hand, he reached out, closing his window. Then he used both hands to cling to the wall. Slowly, cautiously, he crawled up the side of the building he lived in, making his way up to the roof. Once on top of it he pulled his hood up. He already had a mask on- but the hood felt like a nice touch. As if anything could add some aesthetic to the nightmare that was his outfit. Raphael cracked his knuckles, looking out over the city below.

“Alright,” he said to himself. “Let's do this.”

Raphael stepped off the roof.

Chapter Text

The ground rushed up to greet him. 

Raphael shot a web from his wrist, catching himself and catapulting himself into the air at the last second. He couldn’t deny that once he knew he could catch himself and not turn into another stain on the pavement, the adrenaline was addictive. The split second before he hit the ground that he twisted and became airborne again had his stomach flipping in a way that he found exhilarating. He twisted and turned, flipping over in the air. Throughout it all, it seemed that his suit held firm. He was proud of that. Raphael, the DIY master. A grin came to his face.

He could get used to this.

Just as he had the thought, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. It rose along his arms. Raphael stopped swinging, pulling himself towards a building and landing on the wall. He looked around. Despite the night's darkness, he found he could still see just fine. Yet he found nothing that could explain the strange sensation spreading through his body, bringing a chill to his skin.

Listen.

It wasn’t a word. It was an instinct so strong he almost fell off the wall. Listen, his brain whispered.

He looked around to find the source. For a moment, there was nothing. Then he caught it. Movement in a corner store. He leaned further off the wall, only holding himself to it by one hand. He knew the store. He’d been in it before- a few times with Mikey and Leo. It sold the basics. Snacks. Really old movies that larger stores didn’t carry anymore. Paint. Soda. The kind of thing that teenagers liked. And standing before the cash register, in his line of sight where the cashier was not, was a masked figure holding a gun.

Raphaels initial thought wasn’t anything coherent. A cold chill brushed along his spine. Icy water dumped on his body that trickled across his skin, locking him in place. All he could focus on was the gun. The glint of light on steel. The corner store was gone. In his mind's eye, it was a diner, and he wasn’t on a wall, he was in a booth. He was helpless. He could do nothing but watch . His fingers dug into the wall he clung to. Indents in the brick formed from his strength, and on any other day he would have been impressed. But not today. 

A metal rod out of his pocket. Violet light. A trigger. A gun.

The world spun. It was hard to tell what was real. Then, tearing him out of his stupor, the thing in his head came back. The thing that warned him of danger, and the thing that always seemed to know what was creeping up behind him. 

Move.

The diner melted away. Once again, he was in the city. His breathing slowed. 

He was in the city. Not the diner. Not the booth. Someone was in danger. What was he going to do about it?

For some reason, it was like all of his panic ebbed away. He felt like he was watching himself move- a third party looking at everything through a screen. He launched himself off of the wall, a web already rushing from his wrist and catching onto the opposite wall. He swung down onto the ground. Too late, he realized he was going too fast to stop before the store. He was going to go in through the window. He hoped the store owner would forgive him for the damages. On the bright side, at the end of the night, they’d have all that register money to spend on repairs.

Raphael cringed and braced himself. Glass shattered. He didn’t feel any pain- maybe one of his super powers was invulnerability? That would be cool. 

He wasted no time in surging forward, firing a web at the gun. The first web knocked it to the side. The second web knocked it completely out of the guys hand and flung it into a shelf, trapping it there. The cashier screamed. The guy turned towards Raphael- and he couldn’t see his face, but he could assume there was some fear there based on the similar shriek he let out. Raphael didn’t give him much more time to react. He lunged forward and in one quick movement, punched him square in the face.

He fell to the ground and didn’t get back up. Raphael stood over him, hand still clenched into a fist. His chest heaved. Breathing was a lot of effort. His suit was tight around his ribs. He should fix that.

“Holy shit,” the cashier said. “Holy shit .”

“I’m sorry about the window,” Raphael said.

“Holy shit,” the cashier replied.

Raphael could agree with that.

He bent down and grabbed the man, rolling him onto his stomach. Pinning his arms behind his back, the teen secured them with more webs. As it turned out, always having the stuff on hand was super convenient. It was strong . If it could support his body weight, he doubted the guy was getting out of it anytime soon. Raphael stood back up. For the first time, he took in the scene with his own eyes. His adrenaline was wearing off, and it was taking the odd autopilot he’d been on with it. There were snacks all over the floor. A crushed bag of Fritos lied by the would-be-robbers head. Glass was scattered across the ground. It crunched beneath his feet as he turned, looking towards the busted window. He could see the cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye.

“You should call the cops,” he suggested. She rushed to comply, but as she lifted her phone to her ear, she pointed at him.

“You’re bleeding,” she said.

Raphael looked down. Sure enough, his costume had torn. Pieces of glass were stuck in the fabric. Shards stuck out between incisions of frayed fabric. The stinging pain was beginning to creep in. It felt a little bit like a cartoon- the character didn’t fall down the chasm until they looked down.

He looked. Now he felt nauseous. 

“It’s nothin’,” he replied. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly. He heard the phone start to ring- and that was probably his cue to go. He didn’t know how he would answer police questions when they showed up. He was sure the cops wouldn’t take too kindly to some masked weirdo showing up, taking a guy down with webs , and then being super cryptic. He walked over the glass and made his way to the door. Awkwardly, he opened it and walked out of the store. The door fell shut behind him. Raphael swung himself onto a rooftop, and abruptly fell to his knees on top of it. He couldn’t make himself keep swinging. It felt like his body was on fire. He could feel each individual cut on his body. His skin tingled and itched- almost like it was trying to pull itself together around the glass.

He groaned, clutching his arm. He’d been hurt before. He was no stranger to it. From fights when he was younger, to boxing matches gone a little too far even now. Nothing had put him through nearly as much pain as he was feeling. He took in a ragged breath and forced himself to let it go. The itching persisted. He was met with the horrible need to crawl out of his skin. He finally looked down at his arm.

It was a mess. His other arm was in just as bad of a state. The limbs had taken the brunt of the damage when he burst in through the window. The sight of so much blood made him dizzy. He felt like passing out.

He couldn’t. 

He forced his eyes to stay open. 

He couldn’t pass out. His brothers were at home, asleep. His dad was at home. They’d wake up in the morning, and if Raphael wasn’t there, they’d freak out. He was doing this for them. He was trying to save people because of them. He couldn’t let them down.

He braced himself against the ground with one hand and grimaced. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed himself up into a standing position. He staggered to the edge of the roof, muttering encouragement to himself all the while.

“Come on, Raph,” he grunted. “C’mon.”

Wind whipped against his face. It attacked his injuries, seeping into his bloodstream like a thousand tiny razors. He ground his teeth together and forced down what he was sure would’ve been a whimper.

Mikey needed him to get home.

He extended his arm, a web shooting forward. It hit a nearby building, pulling taut. 

Donnie needed him to get home.

Without giving himself time to hesitate or focus on how bad this was about to hurt, he jumped. The wind hurt worse when he was moving. It clawed at him, trying to work its way into his bloodstream. Yet he ignored it. Even as his vision darkened around the edges, he ignored it.

Because Leo needed him to get home, and he’d be damned if he let any of his little brothers down.

꧁—꧂

He collapsed to the ground the moment he was inside his room.

Raphael curled in on himself, knees to his chest. The pain was too intense for him to deal with. He couldn’t take it. It was different from taking punches to the face. In that aspect, he could tank any damage. He could handle knuckles bruising his body. Blunt force that rained all over. But he’d never been cut before. 

He was pathetic. 

His injuries weren’t even from the fight itself. They were from his own choices. His own reckless actions. The robber hadn’t even landed a hit on him. And he would be proud of that, if he could think around the horrible itching that was taking over. He struggled to peel his shirt off. Every movement of the fabric brushing across his skin hurt him. By the time it was over and his chest was bare, there were tears pouring down his face.

He was pathetic.

His breathing ragged, he forced himself to sit up. He had to close his window.

He got up.

Arm trembling, he reached up and grasped the windows bottom. He slammed it down with more force than necessary. The glass trembled. A bang sounded. Raphael stiffened and held perfectly still.

He didn’t hear anything from the hall. The sound hadn’t woken anyone up. With a small sigh of relief, he untensed. That relief was short-lived. The moment his muscles relaxed, the itch returned. His gaze shot to his arm. In the midst of the blood coating his skin, he watched a small cut seal itself shut. For a moment, he did nothing but stare. One brilliant thought slammed into him.

Fuck .

He remembered the spider bite and how quickly it had disappeared. The itching was because of the glass. His body was trying to heal, and it couldn’t. Raphael could’ve laughed. He could’ve cried. He did both- letting out a hysterical sound. His agony wasn’t even because of the window. It was because of his stupid body trying and failing to heal. He needed to get the glass out. He knew trying to do it with his fingers would probably shove the glass further in- he needed tweezers. With tweezers, he could fix everything.

Raphael eased his bedroom door open and stepped out into the hall. Every step was terrifying. All it took was for someone to wake up and open their door, and he’d be screwed. There was no easy way to explain why he was covered in blood and filled with shards of glass. Thankfully, he made it to the bathroom without incident, and he locked himself inside. He found what he was looking for under the sink. An emergency first aid kit was Leo’s idea, after Mikey had started skateboarding. The tweezers were added after their brother developed a nasty habit of gathering splinters.

He sat himself in the bathtub and clenched the tweezers in his hand. He lowered them to pick out the first piece of glass, but they kept shaking, and he couldn’t get a grip on the little shard. Tears filled his eyes again. This time, from frustration.

He couldn’t be a hero if he couldn’t take a little pain.

Angry- with the whole situation, and with himself- he went for the glass anyway without trying to stop his shaking hand. He missed and pinched his skin instead. Pain raced through him. He couldn’t contain his cry of pain, but he kept going for it anyway.

He missed.

He missed.

He got it. Grasped the damn thing and pulled. It came free. He flung it into the trashcan next to the toilet. That unbearable itch pulled at the spot he’d just pulled the glass from. But then, blissfully, it stopped.

The cut had healed the moment the glass was out. Something that felt like victory hit him. There was victory- but there was exhaustion, too. He had his work cut out for him. With another shuddering breath, Raphael got to it.

There was no time like the present.

When he was finished, he turned on the showerhead, rinsing blood from the white surface of the bath until there was nothing left. Then he got a rag, wet it, and cleaned himself, too. It was easier without the cuts. With his body healed, he felt no pain. Only a tiredness that felt bone-deep. He leaned over the counter and looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked… normal. There were no cuts on his arms. No evidence of the fight that had occurred that night. There were slight bags under his eyes, but those could be explained away with ease. Raphael didn’t know how to describe it. The boy looking back at him in the mirror- he wasn’t the one who saved a woman's life and took down a criminal. He wasn’t the one who swung from building to building in a shitty costume. He was different. 

The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. That was his only warning before a fist pounded against the door. Raphael jumped, turning around.

“Come on, Raph!” Leo’s voice was muffled by the wood separating them. “You’ve been in there for ages. It’s my turn!”

That couldn’t be right. He hadn’t been in the bathroom for that long, had he? He’d just been in there long enough to take out the glass, and that was- how long was that? Raphael opened the door, faced with his younger brother.

“It hasn’t been that long,” he said.

“Dude.” Leo pushed past him, forcing Raphael out into the hall. “Literal hours .”

The door then slammed shut. Raphael was left standing there, feeling awkward. When he turned, he could see through the hallway window that it was light outside.

Fuck.

He wasn’t going to get any sleep, was he?

He made his way back to his room and checked the time. Five in the morning. Leo wasn’t typically up so early- he probably woke up just to use the bathroom. That wasn’t the problem. He really didn’t care about his brother's bathroom habits. In fact, he’d rather never think about them again. The problem was that he’d been in that little room for hours, and he hadn’t even realized how much time went by. 

Raphael shut his bedroom door and sat down, sliding to the ground with his back against the wood. 

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He didn’t understand what his problem was. When handling the robbery, everything had been so smooth . He knew exactly what to do. He’d thrown himself from the building he was on, swung through the window to save the cashier faster, and taken down the bad guy in one move. Just like a real hero. Yet, he couldn’t manage to get through the aftermath in the same seamless way. Why? What was wrong with him? Superheroes never had this problem.

Probably because they didn’t exist.

Raphael was alone.

That…. sucked. But at least he was helping people. Right? He would figure things out. He could work up a pain tolerance. The whole spacing out thing was just a fluke. Once he got used to helping people, he’d be a pro at it.

꧁—꧂

He was in the middle of tugging on his jacket when there was a knock at his door. A knock meant that it wasn’t Leo. Raphael was a little surprised his sense didn’t warn him like it normally did. Maybe he was just that out of it. 

“Raph?” Mikey’s voice called. 

“Yeah?” He finished pulling on his jacket and made his way to his bed, sitting down to better tug on his shoes.

There was a long pause from the other side of the door. Which was odd, because Mikey didn’t pause. He rushed through his sentences. “Are you going to eat?”

“Huh?”

“Breakfast.”

“Oh. Oh!” He’d forgotten all about breakfast. He was hungry. But at the same time, the thought of eating made his stomach flip. He was probably better off skipping it. “Nah, I’m still full from last night. Thanks for askin’.”

“Right.” He swore Mikey sounded a little disappointed. He could hear his retreating footsteps. By the time Raphael finished getting his shoes on and opened his door, his little brother was long gone.

꧁—꧂

School was a blur. 

Hours ticked by both too fast and too slow. All that Raphael found himself doing was eagerly watching the clock. Sleep was, truthfully, the last thing on his mind. He wanted to get home so he could fix up his suit and go out again. He was itching to test himself- to improve. The night before had been disappointing. Not in the aspect of him saving people, but just in the aftermath. He needed to get better. The only way to do that was to go out and save more people.

And the only way to do that was to get through the school day.

He tapped his pen against his desk, staring up at the digital clock on the wall. Something dug in between his shoulder blades. Raphael turned in his seat and found the culprit staring at him pointedly.

“Raph,” April said. “I love you. You know I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said instinctively, because she was one of his closest friends, and of course he did. April smiled. It seemed a little dangerous.

“Good, good,” she said. “Stop tapping.”

“Oh.” Instantly, Raphael set his pen down. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, April. Don’t really know where my head’s at today.”

“All good.” She leaned forward in her seat, staring at him intently. “You doing alright? You seem a little…”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. At her arching brow, he quickly added on to the statement. “Really. I just slept like shit last night because Donnie was up workin’ on some weird project of his.”

The suspicion visibly melted away from her face. “I can knock him upside the head for you if you’d like,” she said. “April O’neil style. He won’t be keepin’ anyone up then.”

Raphael laughed. He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle it before the teacher could hear him and call him out on not doing his work. “I might take ‘ya up on that,” he joked, mentally apologizing to Donnie for throwing him under the bus.

My brother is loud was a little bit more believable than I’m trying to be a superhero.

The rest of the class period passed in a comfortable silence. April would occasionally talk to him- but this time, it was mostly about schoolwork. Raphael wasn’t paying much attention. He was alright with math, but it was much more Donnie’s field. Everything in school was Donnie’s field.

He could live with that. He had his own thing, now.

꧁—꧂

His extracurriculars were all over the news by that afternoon. In between classes, his phone screen lit up with a barrage of texts. Raphael paused by his locker to look them over.

Neon Leon: DUDE??

Neon Leon: [Attachment]

Neon Leon: absolute madman

The image was low quality. He could recognize the store from last night and realized it must’ve been the security camera. In the shot, his back was turned to it. He could just make out the form of the robber lying on the ground beyond him.

Mikey: what did i say

Mikey: not a villain

Mikey: pay up don

Bootyyyshaker9000: Just bc he stopped a robbery doesn’t mean he’s not a villain

Bootyyyshaker9000: Maybe he’s being manipulative idk

Neon Leon: jealous

Bootyyyshaker9000: Of that low grade tech?? Please

Raphael’s thumb hovered above his keypad. He didn’t know what to say. It was a little awkward seeing his brothers talk about him for the second time, without knowing it was him. Finally, he typed out a response.

RAPH: I don’t think he’s being manipulative

Donnie’s reply was instantaneous.

Bootyyyshaker9000: Of course you don’t, dear brother, because you’re an optimist

Bootyyyshaker9000: Thankfully I’m here to carry the family braincell

Leon Neon: boooooo

His stomach twisted itself in knots. He didn’t like the fact that Donnie thought of him as a villain. Sure, if Donnie knew it was Raphael out there, his opinion would probably change. But what if it didn’t? What if he genuinely thought he was a bad guy ? 

He missed the rest of the conversation. The screen blurred before his eyes, and he didn’t bother to refocus. Raphael soon pocketed his phone when the ringing bell brought him back to the present. He resolved that if Donnie thought he was a villain, he’d just have to prove him wrong by doing more good.

Raphael hurried off to his next class. There were only two more to go before the day was over. Then he could get through boxing- which for the first time, wasn’t the highlight of his day. And then he could get home and get to work on fixing up his suit.

The plan was solid enough that for the time being, he could ignore the feeling of wrongness gnawing at him as he got closer to the day's end.