Raphael

*It was a shitty shitty day. And even though yesterday ended hours ago, the fact that Raphael hadn't slept yet just meant that he was still living it. For as we all know, it's not morning until after you sleep. He doesn't want to, but he runs the day again.

Goodbyes. Punches. Talks. Bombs. Barstools.
Too long a day by far, only to be made longer by that look on his brother's face.

Raph had left home to avoid that look.
He'd decided to never go back in order to never see that look again.
That look cuts him in ways that only Endless tears can surpass.
The look, and then Michaelangelo disappeared.

His brother is much better at it than he is. He always has been. Mike is just much better at everything than he is. It's not like Leo though. It never was. Mike didn't try to be better, he just was. He wasn't striving for superiority, he already had it.

Raph wasn't just blowing smoke when he described his brother as The best of us all, he meant it.

So seeing him like that, on the verge like that, was too much.

Raph takes off the protective gloves. The silver rune work in the soft leather flashes in the bright light of the gym. The anger is out of him, for now. Which is good, because his target is a little worse for wear. Looks like it's not a good day to be an ex-turtle or a cinder block, really.

After shaking the concrete dust from the gloves, he returns them to his pocket. He's been trying to make it a point to carry them with him at all times. Not just because they're useful as hell, but because She gave them to him. He grabs his towel and hits the lights, closing the door to the gym behind him as he goes.

No one sees him as he walks through the bar and up the stairs to room 134.
Raph doesn't knock.