Chapter Text
“Ayo, Raphie!” A familiar voice calls out. It’s Casey, with his toothy grin and his mop of dark brown curls practically floating as he jumps up to dab Raph up. Raph eagerly complies with a grin, his three-fingered hand coming in contact with Casey’s five-fingered one.
“Hey, Jones!” He greets.
“Dude, dude, dude. You missed my awesome hockey game.” Casey grinned. “We totally beat Iris High’s ass.” He said confidently.
“I bet you did!” Raph said, matching Casey’s energy. That enthusiasm and excitement was so contagious. Well.. everything about Casey was infectious to Raph. He honestly couldn’t keep his eyes away from those dark brown eyes, those chocolate curls, the pretty, caramel-tinted skin. Sure, Raph had seen other humans, but this one was so enticing.
Crap. If he let his mind wander anymore, Raph would be a blushing mess. He was pretty damn happy enough being Casey’s friend. Besides, he wasn't gonna be some maiden-less simp like Leo.
“Sorry I missed it, got my own wrestling things.” Raph added, doing a little silly flex for show. Casey giggled.
“Uh huh, sure Mr. Bloodlust.”
Yeah. Chilling on the sidelines was cool. No problem with a one-sided (or what seemed to be) a one-sided crush. I mean, c’mon, who’d fall for a turtle? At least around Jones, Raph’s mind didn’t have to think about other things.
His other things. Things, that honestly only existed in his head. He knew what went on in there was kinda stupid, and it obviously made things up. Like anxiety, for example. He knew that just stemmed from the primal instinct of flight or flight that had just gotten sensitive. Not that he had it. Besides, he could easily go through the day without being bothered by *those* things. Instead, he had real problems to take care of. Like.. math!
Unlike his three brothers, Raph took Algebra 1. Technically, it was a freshman class. And he was a sophomore. Whatever. Leo and Mikey were actually taking the grade-recommended Geometry class, and Donnie did some AP things that Raph didn’t even bother remembering. Who the hell purposefully chose harder math? His brother, apparently.
Raph sat in the class, mindlessly staring at the board as he twirled his pencil.
“And remember to always put that ‘M=’, you will get points deducted if you don't.” Ms. Rout, the math teacher said. “Alrighty, so, because we need to divide to simply, what's 64 divided by 4?”
The class, almost unanimously answered, “16…”.
Raph blinked back into focus, only now noticing that participation (ew) was required.
“Good, good. And now, to find the run, we do 33 divided by 4.”
Ralph felt the world slow for a split second. Shit. He knew that.. 4 times something was close to 33, but not quite. He’d have to settle for 4 x 8. He couldn’t even do 4 times 8. He could... Figure out 8 times 3, which... If 8 times 2 was 16… he had to add 8 to get 4…
He felt too slow. In his head, the numbers became all jumbled up and scrambled, leaving it feeling like a bowl of poorly-made fried rice. Hell, even if he did this on paper it would be hard. Usually, Raph was great at thinking on his feet– whether it be for coming up with lies or for a quick-witted move. But not for math.
“8.25.” The class answered again, with this time only missing one or two voices from the crowd. Raph had barely even figured out that 4 times 8 was 32.
“Good! And so that leaves us with M=...” The teacher said as she wrote down on the whiteboard. Finishing the equation with a flourish, she turned back to the class.
“Okay. Now, go ahead and pick a partner and work on Pages 5-7.” She said with a soft smile. Raph groaned internally, flipping the pages. Other students started to shuffle around, finding friends or people they knew. If it were a month ago, Raph would be left alone. Even though he and his brothers had literally saved New York, what the heck guys, he was a big mutant. Not too many people were keen on sitting next to a guy whose shell scraped the back of his chair if he sat too close, much less wanting to work with him.
“Yo…” A soft-spoken voice said. Thank god a month had passed. The voice came from a person who had shoulder-length blonde hair, glasses, and dull blue eyes. They held a math book in their arms. Raph sat back in his seat, gesturing to the free chair next to him.
“Yo, Brooke.” He greeted them as they sat down next to him, popping open the math book. Despite their lack of socialness, Raph got along pretty well with Brooke. They were a bit odd, but hey, who isn’t? And not to mention, they were pretty good at math— which is a total plus for Raph.
Soon enough, the two were working on the classwork. Brooke sped through, stopping every once and a while to check in on Raph. They’d already pointed out 3 wrong answers and a typo.
Raph was currently working on a semi-easy problem, but his brain decided to fizzle out.
“Brooke, what's 7 times 8?” He asked, eyes down on the paper.
“56,” Brook answered plainly as they continued to work on their own problem. “Think about it,” They started to say. “8 times 8 is 64, and 64 minus 8 is 56.”
Raph paused for a moment. He hadn’t memorized up to his 8’s yet. Multiplication tables were hard, and for some reason, they never stuck in Raph’s head. He wanted to say he had the disadvantage that he was both a mutant and lived in the sewers his whole life, but the thing was, his brothers had no problem. They could solve these questions easily. Raph just... couldn’t.
“Dumbass.” They added. Their tone was flat and Raph knew it was just a tease. And yet…
It hurt. It was some stupid-ass tease, and it hurt.
“I’m not dumb.” He stated defensively. Of course, whenever he felt attacked or vulnerable or anything he just *had* to get all defensive and be an ass. Maybe he was stupid. No. He wasn't. It was that stupid brain of his.
“Mm. That’s arguable.” Brook hummed.
“Shut the fuck up.” Raph spat back, but this time trying to speak with a similar, teasing tone. A playful one, even. Something to make up for his little defense. He was an offense kinda guy, anyway! No well in hell was he defensive.
The idea that something as simple as a remark to his ability of intelligence hurt him…? No way. He wasn’t some square who cared about what others thought about it. He didn’t care about that stuff.
Thank the frickin’ stars because soon enough, Math was over. Raph didn’t know how much longer he could’ve gone just staring at numbers before his brain promptly exploded.
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“I guess big guys need their food, huh?” April chuckled. Raph was currently wolfing down his lunch. It was some crappy little sad slice of pepperoni pizza, but hey, energy is energy.
“Hell yeah. And I got weights after this, so I need all the energy I can get.” He said confidently, taking a snag of his pizza. The conversation of his brothers and April lolled around him like a warm buzz of energy. Little moments of peace and comfort like this were always the best. It really made him feel… well... Alive. Like a teen in one of those movies. The hum of the cafeteria behind him as those he held dear chatted and conversed. It was so simple and so… nice. He felt a small warmth build in his chest; a direct contrast from his cold-blooded nature.
Sure, he was one hot-headed dude, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stop and smell the roses. It’s just that he could never do it for too long. Soon enough, the familiar feeling of something dank and sick formed in the pit of his stomach. This feeling made the lights in the cafeteria seem dangerously bright, the fluorescents feeling like they were poking directly at Raph’s eyes. It suddenly felt like… that Raph could actually see the world.
The scuff marks on the floor by his feet were littered with small bits of food and smudges of dirt or black-like oil. The scratches on the table seemed so visible with their etched-in nature. Some were worn away either by new pencil markings of “D + E” or by the hard work of previous attempts by janitors to wipe them away. Then there was the windows. Cracked in the furthest corner, with mixes of scratches and oily fingerprints. The sun was outside, nestled in the sickly bright baby-blue, beating down its rays onto the already hot city of NY.
And then... There was everyone. Kids in the cafeteria, engaging in conversation. The occasional couple, snuggled up as they shared a meal. Leo was fumbling over his words, awkwardly giggling as he (tried) to talk to April. Donnie was excitedly explaining his new hyperfixation to Mikey, who in turn reciprocated and they were soon laughing.
And Raph? He’s the only one outside of this bubble. The only one in reality. The only one who was seeing the world as is. Not what he wanted to see, but everything. Everything in its stupid ways, feeling too goddamn real. It felt like a video game with graphics that were too high. The type that reminded you more of reality when all you wanted was to escape it. Raph couldn’t tell if right now he was the one in reality, or if they were. All he knows is he’s outside of the bubble.
The pit doesn’t go away.