🥷Raph
Going to bed angry was never a good idea, but hey, when was the last time anyone ever really listened to sleep experts? When Raph woke up the next morning, he felt exactly like his sister when she was on her period: irritable, hungry, and in the mood to punch somebody— none of which could be fulfilled at the moment (he wasn't ready to face aggravated assault and battery charges and to get food he would have to go the kitchen, which meant Leo would be there. Leo's face was the last one he wanted to see today).
Whatever. Maybe it was a good thing not eating breakfast. His first soccer game of the season was coming up soon, and he needed to stay fit; no way was he going to be the reason his team loses. Second, there was no need to leave his room, anyway. He had his phone charger, manga, own bathroom, and Spike. He could keep himself entertained for a while.
Raph saw Spike crawl out of the water and towards his basking spot, which he was suddenly struck with the urge to take Spike out and scratch his back. "You seem to be doing much better than I am," he remarked, inching himself closer to Spike's tank to observe. Spike blinked. "Yeah, I've got Leo to blame for that. I mean, just who did he think he was, assuming my such reasons and everything? I would've explained why if he didn't look at me that way."
Spike moved just a teeny-tiny bit.
"No one got hurt, anyway. We got out of there with our two arms and legs, right? And we even brought something for Donnie to analyze! Isn't that what matters? To bring results? Am I the only one who wants to know more about The Foot and Shredder in this family?"
Silence. Gurgle. Gurgle.
"And then there's Leo. Does he realize he doesn't need to wait for me outside until I get back from somewhere, right? Maybe it wasn't so bad when we were kids, but I'm literally sixteen! Why can't he understand there is a difference between the words brother and father?"
Another blink. Raph sighed. "Thanks for listening, man." This was why Raph loved Spike— he didn't judge him or make him feel like he was some tornado spiraling out of control; he sat still and was quiet and just listened to what he had to say. That was all Raph wanted, really— someone who could listen.
His eyes suddenly landed on his inflatable boxing dummy stationed in the corner. If he was going to stay in his room, he might as well get started on his morning workout. He changed out of his clothes and into sportswear, walked up to the dummy, got in his fighting stance, and attacked the dummy with every move he could think of.
Punch. Kick. Punch. Kick. Every mistake or memory he thought of, no matter how big or small, evoked a surge of energy and emotion that was released with every hit he landed on the dummy. All of his raw frustrations, insecurities, and struggles were becoming exposed in a place where he could only feel them privately; he wanted to show these feelings to the world, but then again, he wanted to hide them in his own secret chamber.
Come to think of it, Raph had never been good at managing his emotions. They were almost like a rollercoaster— when up high (meaning whenever he was in good spirits) for a split second, they wanted to stay up there forever, never coming down; however, as soon they tipped down (this could mean a lot of things: anger, sadness, etc.), his emotions ran amok all over in the form of endless twists and turns, never knowing when it would stop. When this happened, he felt incredibly guilty for feeling that way, and then feel guilty for his shame. He was entitled to his own feelings, right? He was allowed to react differently because everyone was different and had their own weaknesses, right? It wasn't like people could just turn their emotions on and off at one's convenience like a fucking machine.
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When Shadows Rise | I
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