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You are surrounded by red.
An apple-crisp breeze flutters through the branches, plucking loose leaves from their homes and carrying them away. One catches on the thick stitches of your scarf. You tug the leaf off and hold it up to your face.
It’s soft to the touch and a bit ragged looking, big and beautiful. Red. You quickly let go of it.
Red, red, red. You wish you were sick of the color by now.
In the distance, you hear crunching underfoot. And then, a voice.
“[Y/n]? Hello?”
Your heart plummets into your stomach.
“It’s me. Raph. I just – I just wanna talk to ya. Are you out here somewhere?” His words drift over to you on the wind, and you curl up even more. “It’s … it’s just me. Out here … alone … if you’re not here …”
His anxiety is palpable. Guilt wracks your body, but fear keeps you locked in place.
The sound of crunching leaves grows louder. You hold your breath, bottom lip caught between your teeth, tucking your legs up as far as possible and pressing close to the tree trunk.
Raph stops right underneath your branch. The bright red of his bandana almost melts into the sea of maple leaves, but to you, it sticks out as much as he does in a crowd.
“Get it together, Raph,” you hear him mutter. “Maybe you should try calling again. Yeah, that’s a good idea. At least you’ll get the cute voicemail if there’s no answer …”
(Oh, geez. He’s so nice you want to cry.)
Hardly daring to swallow, you watch as he digs his phone out of his pocket.
Wait. If he’s calling you, that means your phone –
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
If Raph didn’t hear your phone vibrating, the panicked squeak that launches itself out of your mouth gives you away, anyway.
His head whips this way and that before dropping back to look upwards. Large, worried eyes meet your own, and a broad smile graces his face.
“[Y/n]! There you are!” he shouts, relieved.
You force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “There I am,” you echo, defeated.
“Can you …” His brow furrows as you stay where you are. “Can you come down? I’d join ya up there, but, uh, I’d probably break the whole tree.”
He doesn’t sound frustrated or annoyed, or even particularly embarrassed. But then again, Raph has the habit of trying to spare people’s feelings, and the thought of being gently rejected makes you feel nauseous.
“I …” don’t feel like it, you want to say, but you can’t, so the singular ‘I’ that makes it out simply trails off and dies in the cold.
Raph’s gaze softens.
“I got apple cider,” he says. Unzipping his coat halfway, he fishes out a small thermos from one of the inner pockets. “Mikey made it special for ya. To apologize.” He scratches the back of his head, looking at his feet. “They’re all real sorry for makin’ you so uncomfortable.”
You stare down at him, arms wrapped around the tree. It’s chilly up here, and the thought of Mikey’s signature hot apple cider sinks down into your very bones. “It’s okay,” you reply, even though it isn’t. “I was just being sensitive.”
“And that’s fine! Ain’t nothing wrong with bein’ sensitive,” Raph insists, coming closer to the tree. “I shouldn’t have let them go so far with the teasing. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to say sorry.”
“I feel like I should, though.”
Despite everything, you huff out a laugh. “You’re such a softie.”
Raphael grins, goofy and blushing and him. The weight in your chest feels a little lighter because of it. “That’s Raph. A big ol’ softie. Will you come get your apple cider now?”
“Okay.”
Gripping the rough bark, you start to descend.
“Careful,” Raph warns.
“Mhmm.”
You think that you know which branches to step on and which to avoid; this is your tree, after all, and you know it like the back of your hand. Mindlessly, you rest your weight on a branch about as thick as your arm.
Crack.
Your breath catches in your throat.
You swipe at a nearby branch. Miss. Plummet down towards the hard and unforgiving ground at a speed that is much, much faster than you had thought.
A name leaves your mouth in a scream.
“Raph!”
He shouts something – your name, maybe, you don’t know. There’s a jolt. And just like that, you’re safe and cradled in his arms.
“I told you to be careful!” he cries, loud and booming. He doesn’t mean anything cruel by the volume, you know this, but you find yourself bursting into tears anyway. “Oh – no, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. Or did I hurt you? I hurt ya, didn’t I –”
You press your face against the front of his sweater. “I’m fine,” you babble. “’M just … just crying, I dunno. I’m sorry. Thank you for c-catching me.”
“I wouldn’t not catch you,” he exclaims, as if offended that you would even think of the possibility.
A gross sniffle. “I know.”
Raphael shifts on his feet. You’re equal parts overjoyed and mortified by your position, cheeks wet with tears, eyes screwed shut and surrounded by him on all sides.
“Look,” he eventually speaks again, his hands firm underneath your knees and upper back, “about what they said …”
Your grip on his coat tightens. “We don’t have to keep talking about it.”
“’Course not. I was just gonna say that I talked to them, and they won’t tease you about that kind of stuff anymore.” A pause. His voice quiets. “Since you don’t actually see me that way, and all.”
Your crying comes to a halt out of sheer confusion.
“Huh?”
“Well – well.” He clears his throat. “I mean, you got real upset when Leo said you had a crush on me the size of the Chrysler building, so, y’know …” His hold on you seems to soften as he shrugs. “A-And I get it! Everyone’s got the wrong idea and you’re tired of it, right?”
There is no way. No way that he hasn’t realized.
Everyone knows about your crush on Raph. Even Donnie caught wind of it a month ago. You’re famously horrible at hiding your feelings, so surely Raph … why else would he be so awkward when they tease you, laugh so nervously and avoid your eyes at the mere suggestion that the two of you should go out?
“But I do,” you hear yourself say meekly, so soft that you almost think he doesn’t hear it.
It’s just your luck, though, that he does.
“Wait, what?”
You sniff. No point in hiding it now. “I do,” you repeat, more loudly, “have a crush on you the size of the Chrysler building.”
“Really?” Raph sounds incredulous. You can hear the gears in his head creaking and turning. “Like … a crush-crush?”
This is becoming more painful by the minute. “Yeah. A crush-crush,” you mumble.
Raphael absorbs your confession as you wallow in the misery of your own making.
“… I didn’t know.” His voice is strained.
“I’m sorry.”
“No!” You wince, and he quickly adds, “No sorries. It’s – it’s okay.”
“It is?”
“It is.”
You frown, pulling away to gauge his expression. “Why?”
Raph sighs heavily, the hint of a crooked little grin on his face. He puts you down gently and squeezes your hands.
“’Cause … ’cause I like you too,” he says.
You stare.
Heat floods your cheeks.
“You … like me?” The question is but a croak.
“Yep.”
“How long?”
“The … the past year.” Raph chuckles wryly, hanging his head before sneaking a glance at you. “Guess I shoulda said something sooner, huh?”
You laugh. It’s hoarse, but relieved, and you lean forward to bump your head against his plastron. One of his large hands comes up to cup the back of your neck, stroking it idly.
“Do your brothers and April know?”
“Leo figured it out after New Year’s, and I was pretty much done for.” He groans. “It was a nightmare. I thought all the teasing was mostly to make me suffer.”
“Leo and April found me out on Valentine’s Day,” you say.
The two of you stand there in the cold for a little longer, considering.
“I can’t believe it. They played us like a fiddle.”
“They’re all horrible.”
“I’m cold,” you mutter.
Raph chuckles. “Same. Let’s head back. Here’s your cider.”
He presses the thermos into your hands. Wraps his arm around your shoulders after you assure him that you’d like that. You lean against his side as the two of you trek back to the lair together, lifting the apple cider to your lips and taking a sip.
And it tastes red.