Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

G00NG4L4: dude you ok?

G00NG4L4: look if this is something heavy you dont gotta talk about it

rebel.in.red: kinda

rebel.in.red: thanks jones

Mikey didn’t know everything, but he knew more than anyone else. He’s the one who found Raph, that evening late in the summer—the sky had been burnt orange with sunset, and Raph had been shaking too hard to stand, and he hadn’t even felt it when Mikey took his hand.

Spike had always been unbalanced, Spike had always needed special attention—but they were young and stupid and indestructible, and back then Raph thought all he needed was a friend.

‘Let’s run away,’ Spike had said one night, and his voice was different, the way he was sometimes different. 'I know just where to go.’

A chemical imbalance, Raph’s father had tried to explain to him a few different times, something called 'schizophrenia.’ Not Spike’s fault, nothing to be ashamed or afraid of, but you must be careful, Raphael, and Raph hadn’t listened, because he never listened. Spike was Raph’s friend, and Raph was sick of his big brothers getting all the attention. So he packed a bookbag with snacks and three weeks’ of allowance rolled up in a matchbox and ran to the edge of the field, climbing the fence his grandfather built and meeting Spike on the other side.

He’d been acting funny lately—smiling more, and giving his favorite things away, and being nice to his mom—but Raph had thought that meant he was better. Had no idea that while they marched hand-in-hand through the woods, on the brink of a great adventure as the sun dipped below the trees, their parents were tearing the town apart looking for them, because Spike’s mom found a handful of pills Spike hadn’t been taking stuffed in the back of his sock drawer and crayon pictures of the two of them jumping off a tall bridge, with big smiles on their faces and no water underneath to cradle their fall.

'I don’t like this anymore,’ Raph had said, uneasy at how close to the edge they were standing, the toes of their sneakers peeking over the drop. It was a rickety old bridge, one trains used to run on, and it was a place father said they were never allowed to play. He had dropped Spike’s hand and backed up a few steps, until his back was pressed to the intact railing on the other side. 'Spike, let’s stop. I want to go home.’

'It’s okay, brother. I’ll go first, so you won’t be scared.’

Mikey was the one who found him there, because Mikey was always the one who found him. And even though dusk was throwing long shadows over the forest and Mikey was afraid of the dark, he had crossed that old bridge to Raph without hesitating a single step, even while the aged wood creaked and moaned.

And Mikey took his hand and led him all the way back home, helping him climb the old fence because his fingers were numb and his whole body was shaky. Their house stood like a stark beacon in the dark, with all its lights on and the sheriff’s truck parked in the yard and all the neighbors on the porch with lanterns and flashlights and father sprinting across the field to meet them halfway before anyone else realized they had come home.

Spike hadn’t died. Through sheer dumb luck, his jacket had snagged on a broken, protruding beam three fourths of the way down. It dislocated his shoulder, and he got a nasty bump on the head, but his parents collected him safe and sound and all in one piece. His family moved away from Kalamazoo after that, to some city on the other side of Michigan closer to a fancy doctor, and the house at the end of the street had been dark and silent ever since, for years.

Then a moving truck pulled down the country road, one of those rented, do-it-yourself numbers, and Raph froze in the yard with a handful of chicken feed while the dumb hens clucked and clustered around his feet, his heart the loudest thing in the world as it banged a drum between his ears.

And Spike’s dad got out of the front, and Raph might have blacked out for a second or two.

G00NG4L4: no prob. weve been buds for like what 4 years now

rebel.in.red: internet buds

G00NG4L4: bonds forged in the fires of dank memes never die raph. point is ive got your back 

“His parents tell me he’s doing much better,” Yoshi said, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of the couch, even though it was against house rules. Raph was staring at a point on the wall behind him, just over his shoulder, and nodded without speaking.

That was great for Spike. Raph, on the other hand, was still stuck on that bridge, staring at the empty space where his best friend had been. Mikey had come for him, and Mikey had led him home, but part of him was still there.

If he could have any wish, if he could have one impossible do-over, Raph would never have set foot on that bridge, he would never have walked into those woods. He would have stayed inside when Spike came around, tucked in the warm space between Leo and Miwa, and he would have said, 'sorry, Spike, I can’t play today.’

He would have listened when his father said 'be wary.’

“Raphael,” Yoshi said softly, “I know this is going to be difficult for you, and I cannot afford for our family to move. But if you’d like, you can go to live with Miwa. She has room in her apartment, and she offered it to you the moment I called, before I could even make the suggestion.”

His sister moved to Ann Arbor last year for college, she lived a little more than two hours away from home. Two hours away from—

“Can Mikey come?” he asked, and hated how childish it sounded. Hated even more the sad frown that crossed his father’s face, and knew already what the answer would be. It was a stupid question. Mikey wasn’t home-schooled like Raph was, and he still had a couple years of high school left. He couldn’t just pack up and move in the middle of his sophomore year because his big brother was broken and barely-functioning on his own, a breathing lump of anxiety and OCD and god knew what else. “Sorry, I know. Nevermind. Uh, that’s okay, tell Mi-mi I'll—tell her it’ll be fine.”

G00NG4L4: btw i have some pretty big news

G00NG4L4: yknow how my dads been itchin to get out of nyc since mom died?

rebel.in.red: yea?

G00NG4L4: he finally got the transfer hes been pushin for

Their bedroom was in the attic, because it was huge and air-conditioned and remote. They made the move one day a few years ago, when Mikey suggested moving his bed into Raph’s room over breakfast, and their father realized why, exactly, the nightmares had finally stopped.

And Mikey was waiting for him on the first floor landing, and took his hand before Raph even realized he was reaching for him. “C'mon, Klunk misses you.”

Klunk was a therapy cat, and she was all Donnie’s idea. There were plenty of scruffy mousers outside happily roaming the barn and the field, but Klunk gleamed with pampered care, with soft white paws and an autumn-orange, long-haired coat. Donnie argued that a therapy animal was as good as—if not better than—most conventional pharmaceutical medicines in lowering blood pressure and stress levels and decreasing anxiety. It wasn’t much of a fight to be had, honestly; Leo was just as much team “do whatever he needs” as Donatello was, and Miwa threatened to skip class and drive down there to buy a cat for him her damn self if Yoshi deliberated on the idea even another minute.

So Raph got a cat. And the only person she loved more than Raph was Michelangelo, but Raph figured that was par for course.

“Hi, sweetie,” Raph said as they pushed open the attic door, and she came bounding through the cool, wide room with a delighted mrow and leaped onto a shelf, and then his shoulder. Mikey closed the door behind him, and immediately Raph felt a weight ease off his shoulders.

Here. He was safe here.

G00NG4L4: looks like i’m moving

G00NG4L4: to some city in michigan ive never even heard of

G00NG4L4: jfc it doesnt even sound like a real place

“What did dad say?” Mikey asked, climbing into the overstuffed armchair it had taken all four of them to haul up the stairs. Worth it though, Mikey would declare, every time someone brought it up. He sat in it sideways, legs flopped over one of the arms, and Raph moved past him toward the futon. “Is he gonna do something?”

“There’s nothing he can do,” Raph said with a shrug. And he thought about mentioning father’s offer to move him out with Miwa, but—he wasn’t sure Mikey wouldn’t be on board with that idea. Mikey, for all that he was the spoiled baby brat of the family, was the least selfish person Raphael had ever met, and if Mikey thought it was in Raph’s best interest, Mikey would not stop until he’d convinced everyone in their family, including Raph himself, that Raph needed to go.

And maybe, a little bit, Raph was worried that Mikey would want him to go. It couldn’t be fun, could it? Holding your big brother’s hand through everything, because something stupid that happened a bunch of years ago messed him up so much that just leaving the house was a feat worthy of reward.

He was pathetic. He ruined his life when he was ten years old, because of a shitty choice and the shitty way he never listened to the people who loved him, and now they had to deal with the neurosis and the anxiety and the shell of the person he should have been. 

If he could have one wish—

“Well, don’t worry,” Mikey was saying, and oof’ed a bit when Klunk sailed without warning from Raph’s shoulder onto Mikey’s stomach. “Summer break is in a few weeks, and then I’ll be around twenty-four seven to keep an eye on things.” He said it loftily, with a sideways smile, but there was real steel somewhere behind the bright amber of his eyes, and it made something tight in Raph’s chest come loose.

“Thanks, kid.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mikey’s smile widened into a big grin, and he leaned back over the arm of the chair to aim it at Raph upside down. “But I’ve got a really good feeling about this summer. I think it’s gonna be one to remember.”

G00NG4L4: hey you live in michigan right? you ever been to kalamazoo?

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Casey’s psyched about trying this restaurant, and that’s the only reason Raph forces himself to walk through the door. He’s been having a good day – good enough that Mikey stayed home when Raph went out, that Raph told him “me and Casey are gonna grab a bite to eat, don’t wait up” and Mikey’s expression was equal parts pleased and surprised – and he doesn’t want it to end on a bad note.

So he squares his shoulders and follows the hostess as she leads them to a booth. Even though Spike’s family always eats here. Even though their car is in the parking lot.

“Dude, this place is like, my aesthetic,” Casey says, sliding into one of the bench seats and snapping up a laminated menu without looking at it. He’s turning his eyes around the diner instead, taking in the warm lighting and the decor on the walls. “We can order breakfast for dinner here, right?”

“Ugh. I don’t know you.”

Casey grins at him, propping his chin up in his hand – and whatever he says is lost on Raph, because Raph’s not hearing him. Everything is muted and fuzzy, and Casey’s voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater, because Spike is sitting across the room.

He’s gotten big, with girth and muscle where he used to be scrawny and sallow. His hair is loose and tousled, and his skin is healthy and whole, and he smiles in a way that takes up his whole face instead of just leasing room with his mouth.

The moment Raph sees him, he’s back on the bridge.

“ – ph. Raph. Raph!”

Casey comes into focus sharply. His round almond eyes are two inches away and narrow with worry. He’s on his feet on his side of the booth, leaning over the table with a solid hand on Raph’s shoulder, and Raph is staring at him stupidly.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. His hands are shaking. He tucks them out of sight under the table. “I just – zoned out, I guess.”

A waiter is waiting to take their order, and he eyes Raph sidelong without expression. Casey sits back down, and shoves their menus at the man a little forcefully.

“It ain’t polite to stare. We’re both having pancakes.”

“I don’t like pancakes,” Raph says after the waiter’s gone, mostly just to fill the space between them. His chest is a pit of light and air and panic, and it feels like he’s trying to breathe through a tight plastic bag.

He’s not on the bridge. That place was miles away and years ago. He’s not there.

“Hate to break it to you, my dude, but everybody likes pancakes. Anyway, who the heck were you staring at a minute ago? An ax-murderer? Cause you looked truly spooked.”

Casey turns around to glance over the top of the booth, blatantly scanning the crowd. Raph’s heart pounds against his breastbone so hard it might really do some damage, and he reaches over without thinking to tug his loud-mouthed friend back down.

“Will you just – I’ll tell you, just stop being weird at people. They didn’t come here for the Jones Experience.”

“Must be their lucky day, then,” he retorts, dropping agreeably into his seat. “So? Who is he?”

Raph darts a glance over Casey’s shoulder, at where Spike is still sitting with his mother. It’s surreal to be so close, just a few tables away, and Raph aches with the need to breathe even though his lungs are heaving.

“Dude,” Casey says abruptly, the humor gone from his voice. Raph shakes his head.

“He’s nothing,” he hears himself say. “Just someone I used to know. It’s nothing, seriously.”

But because Raph’s entire life is a terrible cosmic joke, that’s exactly when Spike’s eyes meet his from the other side of the room. They’re the same stark, startling blue-green Raph remembers, a color that filled his early childhood. Spike stares in some surprise, then smiles, slow and wide, and starts to get up. Every bit like he’s about to walk over and greet Raph like an old friend.

Raph scrambles out of the booth and runs. Shoulders through the crowd at the hostess podium and slams out the front door into the parking lot. So much air outside and he’s still panting for it. Everything is spinning, his body is numb, he can’t breathe.

‘It’s okay, brother.’

The old wood under his sneakers creaked and moaned every time he shifted his weight, and the wind curled strong fingers through his clothes that pushed and tugged. His hand was still sore from how hard Spike was holding it earlier. There was an empty space in front of him where his best friend was standing before he jumped. It was dark, and he was alone.

‘I’ll go first so you won’t be scared.’

But he was scared, he was so scared. It was such a long, long way down.

“So this is ‘nothing,’ huh? You’ve got a real funny definition of that word.”

Raph had no idea Casey could sound so quiet and so calm. But there’s no reason for him to be on the bridge, no reason for anyone but Mikey to find Raph there and help him back home. Raph lifts his head, looking for him.

He doesn’t have to look far. Casey’s eyes are only inches away again. Brown face, dark hair, notched eyebrow, crooked nose. Raph isn’t brave enough to look past him.

“Wherever you think you are, it’s scary, but it ain’t real,” Casey tells him, absolutely certain. “You’re not in danger, Raph. Come on back, okay?”

“It’s so far down,” Raph gasps between gulping breaths, and steady, sturdy hands fold around both of his.

“I’ve got you, see? You’re not gonna fall.”

It feels like hours before Raph can breathe again. The night air is cool, traffic is a steady hum, the restaurant behind them is lively. Casey keeps talking while Raph reorients himself, holding Raph’s hands until Raph tugs them away.

He’s too exhausted to be mortified, even though no one but Mikey has seen him like this in years. As comforting as Casey’s closeness was a moment ago, it’s suffocating now, and Raph shoves trembling hands in his pockets and turns a step away. He feels ancient and brittle and tired, and he wants to go home.

“Let me guess,” Casey says suddenly, his voice dry and unimpressed. “You think I’m gonna pull your friend card because you’ve got an anxiety thing. What kind of asshole do you take me for? Everybody’s got problems.” When Raph stares at him, he shrugs one shoulder. “Dad wasn’t okay for a long time after mom died. He used to have panic attacks, too, and for awhile I thought he’d never get better.”

Raph remembers. They knew each other when Casey’s mom died, but Casey didn’t talk about it often. He still doesn’t. That he’s volunteering information on the subject now, so freely, makes Raph feel small.

“Did he?” he asks, before he can think better of the question.

“Yeah. It took awhile. And he needed a lot of help. But I didn’t mind. What’s family for, y'know? Same story here.” He rubs a hand through his hair, looking vaguely annoyed. “You just gotta be honest with me, dude. I’m here, I’m right here, but you gotta be here with me.”

Raph is all used up, constantly. Running on empty. But he wants to be better – has always wanted that. And he finds the strength to nod, even though his head is hanging and his face is hidden in his hand. “Deal,” he whispers, because it’s more than he has any right to expect.

He’s rewarded, impossibly, when Casey finally closes the distance between them, and their noses bump together.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he says, and Raph doesn’t need to look to know he’s smiling.

Chapter Text

Casey describes New York City at night as bright and busy—it shines, he always says, way better in the dark than it does during the day. Lights and traffic and the stark gleam of neon.

In the country it’s different; a blanket blackness that settles over the fields and the farms, unbroken until morning.

It’s impossibly dark in the woods, the stormy clouds hanging over the canopy of the trees like an inky sponge. Raph’s heart is a knot in his throat, and his hands around the flashlight are shaking, and he has to force himself to breathe.