Chapter Text
If he thinks about it, Raph can’t really pinpoint when they went wrong. His first memories are of playing with his brothers, he and Leo like thunder and lightning, twin flames of bright, searing energy that burned up everything they touched. He remembers when they were a little older, and nights were hard, when Mikey would cry and Donnie would shut down and Splinter had no capacity left to care for the two of them, two flames aged about 7. They went to each other for everything, because Splinter was too busy for their burning, and being around their dad when he was tired was enough to snuff them both out.
He remembers Leo being as hot and fiery as he was, their scuffles in the halls in the middle of the night to burn off energy, silent but the sound of skin hitting skin, rolling over each other down the hallway biting and scratching and doing everything to not wake up dad and the babies. He remembers crawling into Leo’s bed after bad nightmares, because Splinter could never be for him the way Leo was, could never understand him the way Leo could. He remembers clinging to Leo, and Leo clinging back, when Splinter got overwhelmed by their little brothers and snapped at them to go wash the dishes, clean the bathroom, just leave for a little while, please.
He remembers Leo crying into his shoulder the singular time Splinter had thrown a dish at them, trembling with exhaustion and anger because he was a single dad of four and they were just too much for him.
He remembers going to Splinter after Leo had fallen asleep (in Raph’s bed, this time), hands shaking, terrified but determined, to tell their father in no uncertain terms that if he ever threw anything at Leo again, he was going to take Leo and they were going to leave, He remembers their dad crying the next morning, promising Leo that he’d never throw things again, while Raph stood behind Leo with his arms crossed and muscles flexed, putting on a braver face than any 9 year old should have to wear. He remembers Leo thanking him later, pulling him into a tight hug and whispering how good he is.
Leo hasn’t called him good in a long time.
Raph thinks, maybe, things started to shift when Mikey and Donnie got better at self regulating, once dad had more time for him and Leo. Raph was never good at sitting still, at meditating. He was too much, a flame burning hot and fast and dangerous. A candle out of control. Leo used to be like that too, Raph thinks, until the meditation. Leo fell into it like a good son, a prodigal son, a useful son. That flame that used to burn in tandem with Raph steadied. Though, Raph thinks, maybe that flame suffocated. He doesn’t see it anymore, that light in Leo’s eyes that used to be there when he got excited or angry or, anything, really. It’s like Leo doesn’t feel anything anymore.
Raph likes to pick fights, to try and reignite the flame he blames Splinter and meditation for snuffing out, But every time he thinks he’s getting somewhere, every time he thinks Leo might be experiencing An Emotion, Leo takes a deep breath and pushes it all down and his eyes are dull dull dull, like smoke stained glass. So Raph keeps pushing and Leo won’t push back and all he wants is for Leo to snap, for that twin flame to roar back to life, and Leo keeps stepping back and back and back, settling into meditation and leadership and the role of father that he never wanted and was never supposed to bear alone.
Raph thinks, maybe, he knows exactly where they went wrong.