Author: Dark Closure PM
Some people have a hard time sleeping but when nightmares plague Raphael his mild case of insomnia in creases to the point that it has many worried. Michelangelo is determined to find out what's the cause of it all. RaphxMikey R&RRated: Fiction T - English - Mystery - Michelangelo & Raphael - Chapters: 13 - Words: 24,689 - Reviews: 58 - Favs: 63 - Follows: 20 - Updated: 08-08-07 - Published: 07-12-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3652168
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Before we start, I wanted to thank everyone for reading this story. A big extra thanks to those special readers who have commented and those who have actually interacted with me. This is in fact my only second Turtle fanfiction, the first one something no one will read because it deals with original characters and I was only writing it to test out how well I know the Turtle's personalities.
ArtyKidd - I may take you up on that suggestion of yours, but I don't know if I can ever become a professional at writing.
Existing for Penguins - you've been my most faithful reader, commenting on two stories; this and My Best Friend as a special treat send me a PM with coupling of your choice and what genre you want and I'll make you a fic.
Libra4eva - I hope you and me can get together some time soon to discuss the details of a colab story soon, thanks for reading buddy.
This is the last chapter of Webbed Glass, join me for the sequel "Package"
Stumbling down the stairs, neck hitting the railing, wrists twisting with knees scraping, it would have felt better than what Raphael was currently going through. His healing took to the better and he was able to move around freely with out having a sibling, friend, or father to give support. He was allowed to participate in one on one katas with his father, the soothing movements helping his muscles ward off any sort of ache that would have come with the lack of use. He loved those times, once in the morning and once before bed. It gave him a special spot of tranquility in the world of confusion that was whirling about him. Donatello had told him that Michelangelo had told him about their relationship and that he was perfectly fine with it. The purple banded teen gave his word that he would not tell Leonardo for it was not his place. It was rather nice to be excepted in such ways, and he got to see a softer, more sweet side to the brainiac than before with comfortable hugs and sneaked kisses to the top of the head while bandages were being changed. He would be lying if he said he didn't like the attention, in fact he loved it completely. It was non-sexual, all brotherly, no need to tell feelings because they were brothers not mates, brothers that had nearly lost one another. He liked the every so often holdings of hands with his father while they meditated, giving a smile to the old rat and telling him that he wasn't planning on disappearing from their lives any time soon giving that gentle grip a squeeze while they resumed the tranquility of silence. He even indulged in giving Leonardo a quick, uncharacteristic kiss on the brow when his brother had gone into a worry fit when Raph had choked on some water and was coughing when it was just the two of them home. It threw his brother off guard but earned him a smile and a soothing rub on the shoulder trying to ease the embarrassment that fallowed from showing his tender side. It was confusing how things could be so calm, but what was even more confusing was how his lover's kisses were growing distant, how his touches were not as frequent as they should have been. Fingers never lingered, and eyes had a hard time keeping passionate gazes. He was here, he was safe, so why was Michelangelo slowly withdrawing? Why was he taking an invisible blade and cutting into him leaving searing scars behind that refused to stop bleeding deep in his heart? He had tried at first to be comforting, but that didn't work. He tried the "act normal" approach, still nothing, he even tried straight forward confrontation and that didn't work. He didn't know what was wrong and by the way that his mate would silently sob into his pillow at night when he thought no one was awake, he could only guess and for a while he could only come up with a blank.
Right now he could hear the sobs as he looked up to the second level. He was the only one awake again, the throb of burns and cuts still healing kept him awake. Donatello had gone out with Leonardo to get some more pain medication only ten minutes ago and Splinter had gone to bed early due to having a rather vigorous training exercise for three sons in the morning. Everyone was supposed to be in bed by now, but Leonardo had come to Raphael's room intent on helping change bandages when he noticed how much physical pain his brother was in and told their purple wearing sibling about it, that was what lead them to leaving their home when they did. It left Raphael alone to think, think about Michelangelo and how to find out what was wrong, what was placing such a wedge in between the two of them. But before he could get anywhere with his train of thought the muffled cries traveled to his ears. The only reason why he could hear the soft sounds was because of his ears preferring the usually spunky voice of his little brother.
Leathery palms slid over the railing as he cautiously ascended the stairs that lead up to his lover's room. With each choke, each cry, it felt like a new cut from a razor blade, it took everything he had not to either rush in there and hold him tightly or to turn around and seek his own pillow to bite down on while tears slipped down his cheeks. He needed to be able to catch Mikey in the act or the boy would simply brush it off as something else. But before he could reach the top of the stairs, the sobs turned into sniffles as the sea-green turtle padded out of his room, mask around his neck, knuckles rubbing at wet eyes.
"Mikey?" he cursed at himself mentally. How could he have sounded so timid?
Michelangelo's shoulders stiffened, his fingers tense on his eyes as they slowly moved away to put his mask back into place. He didn't move when he heard those familiar footsteps taking the last few steps by stride, he forced himself to breath when he felt the warmth of longing love. He couldn't handle the feel of that blissfully wonderful hand on his shoulder giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance. At that moment he didn't need reassurance, not in what he was about to do. He wished at that very moment that Raphael was the doubting type, the kind of person that would urge caution and not confidence. But he knew his lover to well, and it threatened to bring tears back to his face. Michelangelo hesitantly reached up, his hand coming over his lover's before sliding that hand away from him. "Raph... no more, please."
"No more?" It almost felt like he had taken a step up a flight of stairs only to find that there was no step to be found, "No more what?" Please be wrong, was the only thought that chanted in his head. He wanted to be the most wrong person in the world right at that moment. He had his suspicions, but he always dismissed it, Michelangelo was not a quitter, he wouldn't start up something only to drop it like an unwanted piece of trash.
Shoulders trembled as he pushed it out finally, "We can't be together any more. So no more touching, no more kissing, no more..." he couldn't say it. To say "no more love" was to much, it would be the knife in his chest and be the executioner's ax on everything he held dear. "Just... no more..." With that he turned and ran, chased out of his own home by his own fears of seeing Raphael's hurt expressions.
He had chased past Donatello and Leonardo, not caring for their shouts of worry or concern. He made sure he was too fast for the sound of Leonardo's pursuing feet that fell back as his name was shouted out by his brother. He needed to think, he needed to cope with what he had just done. He didn't stop until he found himself in a place he had no idea where it was. It was somewhere topside, on a corner of a building that was bathing him win neon blue light. His legs were curled up against his chest and he let the cries held in his chest develop into full out wails of grief as he felt something die inside of himself over and over again at every image of Raphael, every recorded sound in his mind of his lover played repeatedly in his head. Finally it all died into a tired hiccup as he rocked himself back and forth now trying to think of a way to apologize to Donatello for doing something that was not what both he and Raphael wanted to do. He drew in a long sniffle, finally looking up from where he had tucked his head between folded arms and chest. A rumble in the sky above telling him that a storm was as unhappy as he was. His body froze, eyes wide at the sight before him. Raphael stood ten feet away from him, the most saddened expression to ever come upon the earth, he was trying hard not to let it show though, and that was what it look so depressing.
"You feelin' better now?" Red bandanna looking like a rich purple in the blue light, "You finally thinkin' like the Mikey I know?"
"Raph I-!!" He was advanced on faster than he could think, his body uncurling instinctively as the bulk of his lover draped over him on hands and knees, hands so very powerful pressed on either side of Michelangelo's head.
"Shut up," those emotional eyes were more influential than the blank tone used. "I always knew you were smarter than I ever gave you credit for. You surprise Leo and Donnie all the time, but never me, not until today."
"I said shut up," sea-green lips pressed together by the now dead voice. Raphael was beyond angry or depression, in side he was dead, killed by the words of his own lover and right then only one thing mattered to him; the need for clarification as to why he was just murdered inside. "I never thought you would be dumb enough to bottle everything up until you felt the need to run away. Even in a fight you've fled a few times only to confuse the enemy, but this time... this time you just ran. Why? Donnie already explained what was wrong with my head, why the nightmares were so real. You remember right?" He waited for a second, there was no recognition so he continued, "Remember, he explained that in that room he and Casey found was a bunch of neat-o information about my brain. How my frontal lobs don't fully rest when I'm asleep causing nightmares, how a neuron stimulant of some sort was put into me when we were all unconscious when Bishop first got his hands on us. How this damn stuff screwed with my brain and the front of my brain until I couldn't tell nightmare from reality and how it has now run its course, Donnie explained all of that. I was grabbed because he wanted that information about our weird, mutated, freak brains. Someone only needed to wait long enough to find us come up before following and waiting for the perfect opportunity to snag their precious guinea pig. That was all explained the second day I was up. Remember now?" He waited until there was a small nod before speaking once more, "Now I know I died a few times, my body stopping, but I still hung around, still waited and fought until someone could get me to breath again, and you did just that. I'm still alive because of you, not because of Donnie or Leo, because of you. They told me all about how you needed to do CPR on me when I was still in that cell, about the other times when we got home as well. Do you regret that?"
"NO! I-" Lips covered his, pressing hard yet sweet at the same time. It started to rain; it was thick heavy drops that shattered against any and all surfaces that broke the fall of each heaven sent tear. Michelangelo held his breath, trying not to enough the taste of his lover, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn't think past the smell of the fresh rain that mixed in with the musk that was purely Raphael. A tear slid down from his eye, hot and warm when it mixed with his rain kissed skin. Strong hands held his face so gently taking away all fight as he wondered how it came to be that he could break so easily. Was it the panic? Was it the expression of raw fear? He didn't know which. Perhaps it was when all of that left and desperation rung with each word spoke between both parties. How did it get like this? How did they both end up clinging onto each other like they were drowning in their shared sorrow? A sea-green hand slid from elbow to shoulder, feeling a scar pucker up from taunt skin one of the smaller injuries that had already healed. He turned his face, air rushing into his lungs as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Raph we can't," he whispered.
"Can't? But we did! You even started it genius!" Raphael's hands were still gentle dispite the gruff in his voice life sparked back from just the small contact, "Or are you forgetting that this was all your idea in the first place?"
"No I," soaked orange sagged over an eye that was starting to hurt from how tightly closed it was. "I..."
"Mikey," a wet bandanna was shifted over forehead to slip down to the rooftop they were laying upon. "Open your eyes... come on..."
Powder blue eyes slowly opened, reluctant at first but came to focus on the loving face that he wished would never leave him. His beak was nuzzled tenderly, a motion he grew to know as a way to ask permission for more intimacy. Raphael's warm breath washed over his mouth and down his jaw line there the rain had left cool trails, then sensation sending a shiver through his body. With out thinking his hands reached up, wrapping around shell and neck pressing the other into him as he finally let his mind go and vocally relieve his heart of its burdens, "I'm so terrified of loosing you."
Red pulled away, eyes wide and confused, "You did all of this, just to distance yourself from me?"
"I froze when I saw you bleeding, I freaked out and was useless when you were being attacked," he let go of his mate in favor for covering his own face. "I went into shock just from the thought and when we found you, you nearly died... I could feel your heart fade... your breath stop..." a meek whisper followed, "I wanted to die."
Supporting himself on one hand, Raphael reached for his brother's hands, carefully pulling them away from that face he loved to gaze upon. He let out a soft, long, sigh as he nuzzled their beaks together once more, "I thought you would have more faith in me than that."
"I'm never leaving. I'm never leaving Donnie, or Leo, or Master Splinter... and I'm especially never gonna leave you," he let his tongue dart out to an upper lip for just a second, retreating before its playmate could come into contact. "Never, ever."
He couldn't handle it any more, his hands took hold of shell and flesh pressing themselves together, delving his tongue into his lover's moaning when warm, strong arms pulled him up off of his shell and into a sitting position. Not caring for the rain, not hearing the cars below or the sounds of the world starting to wake in the earliest hours of the morning they forgot the world in favor for one another. Passion burned the cold of the storm away, threw worries and doubts into the wind as promises of longevity and impenetrable bonds were whispered into awaiting ears. Whispers of love were swallowed to be sent straight to the heart and brain as to never forget the lesson learned as their bodies moved and tangled. Cries of pleasure, hisses of sweetness were lost in a thunderous rumble that just made it all the more special. Spent and taught never to doubt, Michelangelo clung onto his brother's body tightly, savoring the taste of the rain that had become a light mist that turned yellow in the breaking clouds and rays of early raising sun.
"All better?" was mumbled bringing him out of a stoop of drowse.
He made a confirming noise in the back of his throat as he nodded, adjusting so that he was gazing into eyes that would love him beyond the end of time. "But, there is one problem though."
"I'll fix it," Raphael quipped, "Whatever it is, I'll fix it."
"I think we might need our own place, I mean, I don't think I can live with sneaking around and waiting to touch you like this."
Raphael chuckled, giving his lover a kiss, "We'll deal with that later Mikey." He trailed an emerald thumb over sea-green skin enjoying the contrast of their skin tones and the gleam of the sheen left by sweat and rain, "I'll have to do some house huntin' first."
"Yeah?" Mikey kissed at the corner of a mouth, "I hear that our part of the sewers are in high demand, you might want to act quickly."
"Mmm," a direct deep kiss. A lick of lips, "True, but Sensei always says that patience is a virtue."
"I'll remember that the next time you're lovin' me up," Mikey snickered when he got a light swat to the shoulder.