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tworoadsandapenny · 10 months

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What You Wish For: Chapter 12. Figments

Another chapter I really enjoyed writing. Raph + angst = my bread and butter.

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“No.”

The face was pale. White. Almost blue. He’d always looked good in blue. It suit him. Matched the colour of his eyes. Those condescending eyes that held nothing but steady disappointment. Arrogance. Superiority.

Fear.

But he was never afraid. He was Fearless. Always. Fearless eyes framed with blue. But this blue wasn’t right. This blue didn’t suit. This blue was different… all wrong.

“No… No no no…”

Red spilled out around him, covering his prone body with it’s vibrant hue. It spread towards his head, seeping into the tails of his bandana. His blue bandana. The wind kicked up, taking the tails with it, the blue dancing about in their grasp, it’s steady flicker keeping the red at bay. A fight. Blue vs. Red. Always fighting. Always.

“Stop it. Stop it!”

A loud crack rang out in the night, filling the air with the smell of gunpowder. Suddenly the wind stilled, the blue bandana tails falling slowly to the ground. Spent. Unable to fight. The red charged in, soaking up the tails towards the mask covering his face. Red won. Red vs. Blue. Red took over. The blue was disappearing. Disappearing.

Gone. Only red remained. No more blue. No more…

“NOOOOOO!”

His hand moves from his stomach, dripping with red, and grasps mine. It’s cold—freezing!—but his grip is strong. Adamant. “You still… don’t get it.” The voice snakes through the air, biting at my skin like needles. It’s painful. Surprisingly so. I should leave. I shouldn’t be here.

But I can’t let go of his hand.

“That it’s not—“ a cry of pain erupts around me, but his lips remain still. It’s loud. So loud it’s shaking the ground. “That I—“ Red sputters from his mouth, dribbling down his chin to drip into the pool beneath him.

Something in his voice. Something eternally sad.

The cry grows louder, piercing with agony. The ground quakes under it’s sheer density, violently shaking and rumbling until it finally begins to split asunder from the magnitude. Red spills from him, flooding the ground, consuming all it comes in contact with.

I have to run. I have to get out. It’s going to consume me too. It’s going to take me with it. It’s going to pull me under and burry me in it’s tendrils and I won’t be able to stop it.

And suddenly I’m not sure I want to.

Why not let it have me? Why not? Red’s always been my color. Let the red take me. Let it.

His hand suddenly grips me tight, his nails digging into my flesh. Red is filling everything up, the ground pulls itself apart, the seams screaming toward me as though I’m the source of it’s anguish. And all I can do it wrap my fingers around my brother’s hand and close my eyes.

Let it have me.

“Raphael.”

I gasp a hard breath as my eyes spring open, darting all around in an attempt to get my bearings. They come to rest on a blue bandana, wrapped around worried eyes, standing in front of me in the dojo and grasping my hand. Anchoring me. Holding me upright. “Leo?”

“You alright?”

His voice is calm, steady, but there’s an underlying current of concern that I can tell he’s trying to hide. I could always tell. I know him too well. “What… what happened?”

He moves slowly, gently, but keeps his grip firm as he helps me to a nearby bench, lowering me down before my shaking legs give way beneath me. I stare at his bandana. No red. Just blue. Blue as the sea. As the sky. As his calm, condescending, worried eyes. “You were in the middle of cussing me out for following you tonight when you suddenly stopped talking and closed your eyes. You looked like you were about to pass out.”

I sit quietly as his hand leaves mine to lift my bandana and stare at my pupils, then drags itself across my brow, pausing as he contemplates his conclusion. There’s no red on his hand. None at all. Green skin. Not pale, not blue, not the sickly grey of the dead. Green.

“You don’t have a fever, but your eyes look a little red. Is it a headache?” His eyes are inspecting me and I want to get angry at the way he’s coddling me like a child, but I’m so relieved to hear his stupid voice again that I can’t seem to get the fires of anger stoked.

“Raph? Raphael.” His tone is getting more worried with each moment I remain silent. But I can’t speak. I can’t move. Can’t… It could break it. Could shatter the moment. Could let the red back in. My gaze moves to his stomach… not a drop of red. Nothing. Nothing but yellow plastron, and a leather belt, both marred with scars from living, but neither torn open. Neither broken. No more—

“Raph.”

I blink, his face suddenly in front of me as he squeezes my shoulder and crouches to my level. He’s looking at me with those eyes again. But they’re softer. His eye ridges bent up with honest concern, not furrowed in patronizing worry. His other hand—three fingered and green like mine, not covered in blood, not silent and still—reaches up and grips my other shoulder, gently squeezing like he does when he’s trying to make me feel better after I screw up.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I can’t remember the last time I heard him sound so… kind. So understanding. And so worried. Always worried. Why is he always worried? Why this time? “Why?” My voice croaks out without prompt.

“You’re crying.”

He sounds hurt. Like he can feel my pain. Or wishes it was his. Can’t just worry about his own damn problems, has to stick his nose in mine. Has to try and make everything better, even when I don’t ask. Even when I don’t need him. When I don’t want him to. Even when it’s dangerous. When it could get him hurt. When it could get him—

I think I’m still crying. And I don’t think I can stop.

Suddenly his arms are around me, wrapped around my shoulders, gripping my shell and pulling me in so close I can hear his breath. Feel his heart beating ever so slightly faster. I want to hug him back. Want to push him away and tell him to get lost. Want to shout at him for trying to help. Want to beg him not to leave me.

But I can’t move. I can hear his breath and feel his heart beating and I can’t move or speak or I’ll lose it. I need to feel his heartbeat. I need to know it’s there. I need…

“I’m here, bro. Whatever’s going on… I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Whatever’s going on—he doesn’t know. Neither do I. Yet I can’t help but find his confusion hilarious. The all-knowing, all-wise leader doesn’t have a clue what’s happening right now. Doesn’t know why I feel like I’m dying. Doesn’t know why I can’t even feel the tears. Doesn’t know about the red…

Doesn’t know how much I—

“Dammit, Leo…” I should cuss him out. Push him away. Deal with this alone. I always deal with things alone.

Except I don’t. I try to. But my family… my brothers… they’re always there. They’re always trying to help. Leo’s always trying to…

“Dammit Leo!” My voice is loud and jagged and filled with an emotion that I’ve never felt so potently before in my entire life. Desperation.

“Dammit! LEO—“

But he cuts me off before I can say anything else, pulling me closer, holding me tighter, almost as desperate to hang on as I am. “I’m here, Raph. I’ve got you.”

The damn breaks, the wall comes down, the spike in my chest that’s kept me frozen for months finally gives way. My arms charge out like they’ve been shot from a canon, wrapping around my brother’s shell to grip him in a hug like none I’ve ever given.

But my arms meet air. They go right through him. I jerk back, my mind already beginning to panic as I watch his body fade away. Our eyes lock and I see the fear in his as potently as I feel in my own. But it’s not for himself. Never for himself. He’s afraid for me. He’s worried about me.

He’s leaving me.

“LEO! NO!” I reach for him once more, one more desperate grasp at a piece of my heart that was stolen so coldly.

I grab nothing but air. The lair disappears around me as the tails of my brother’s bandana slip away with the wind. “Come back! Come back dammit!” But there’s nothing but empty black in every direction. Black and dark and completely alone. “DON’T LEAVE!”

“I’m not.”

He’s there. But it’s not him. It can’t be him.

I start to run. I don’t know where.

I just. Need. To run.

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Left, right. Left, right. Faster. Move faster. Run. Run until you can’t breathe. Run until it doesn’t hurt. Run as far away as you can. Don’t let the pain catch up. Harder. Faster! Ignore the fatigue. Ignore the burning in your lungs. Ignore the voice telling you to go back. Block it all out. Everything. Everyone. Block it all—

“This isn’t helping.”

He’s back. Again. Won’t leave me alone. Block it out. Don’t let him in.

“Do you have any idea where you’re going?”

Ignore him. It’s not real. He’s not real. Can’t be.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone. You know you shouldn’t.”

Block it. Block it! Don’t listen.

“It’s dangerous.”

Stop. Stop talking. Don’t—

“Are you listening to me?”

His face is right there. Right in front of me. As condescending as it was that night. As worried… My feet suddenly can’t remember how to move. I trip. My legs meet the concrete while my torso thinks we’re still running, flinging me across the rooftop till I skid to a halt against the raised trim. It takes a second for me to catch my breath and sit up.

And there he is. Standing in the middle of the roof, staring at the adjacent building with one sword drawn and clenched in his fist.

I smell blood. Thick and rancid. Can practically taste it on the rain.

This is it. This is the place. He cussed me out in that alley. He followed me up that fire escape. He lectured me across this rooftop.

“You think you don’t measure up?”

And there. Right there. He shoved me out of the way. Pushed me to safety.

I walk to him, watching as he falls to the ground, a hand gripping his stomach and blood squelching through his fingers. Everything’s numb. I can’t reach for him. Can’t help.

Can’t change it.

“I DON’T NEED YOU!”

Can’t take it back.

I wish he was—

My legs buckle and I fall to my knees, hands clenched so tight they’re tingling. A slight tinge of red is stained in a small circled by my knee. Blood that wasn’t washed away with the rain. His blood.

My fault.

My veins turn to tar and my lungs become cement, refusing to allow me air. A cry builds at the back of my throat, clamouring for freedom as I grind my teeth and force it back. Everything hurts. Everything. The cry is deafening inside my head, but I can’t let it out. If I fall apart now, I’ll never get back up. Never.

Maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s for the best.

I wish he was—

Maybe it’s what I deserve.

He looks back at me, his hand on his stomach and blood pouring from his wound. Something in my chest twists and churns and feel like I’m gonna choke. Make. It. STOP!

“Knew you’d show up here eventually.”

A new voice. Familiar. Another memory? My skin prickles with a sense of dread as I grip my sai tight in each fist. Danger. Not a memory. Real danger.

“Time for you to join your brother in eternity.”

A blunt object—butt of a gun, maybe?—comes at my head from the left. I should be able to stop it. It’s slow. Obvious. But my sai feel heavy.

I… I don’t want to fight. I want it to happen. Want it to end.

It was only a moment. A split second. I know I can’t let it end like this. Mikey would cry. I’ve hurt them enough, I can’t—but I’m too slow. My hesitation is enough. I can see it coming, but I can’t stop it.

The side of my head is pounded heavily by something metallic, knocking me onto my side. I try to get back up but my limbs don’t listen. Vision’s clouding. Everything’s going dark. I look up to see the face of my attacker and realize why I recognized the voice.

Hun. Leader of the Purple Dragons. Leader of the thugs who attacked us that night. Leader of the cowards who killed my brother.

My blood boils at the thought and my hands twitch with desire to reach up and grip his neck with every ounce of strength I possess. But the anger’s too late. Darkness is taking over.

And there he is. On the roof. Where he stood that night… with blood gushing everywhere, blue hilted katana in his hand, and worry in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have left.”

Vision going. Eyes roll up.

Black.

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This chapter took me forever to write at the time, not because of writers block, but because of editing. There are so many nooks and crannies I want to explore with this story that it's sometimes very hard to keep to the main plot already established.

End of Line.

-TRAaP

#tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tworoadsandapenny #traap #tmnt 2003 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2012 #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #what you wish for #figments #angst #hurt/comfort #tmnt brothers

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