Raph lets out a small growl as he punches angrily at the bag in his room. Every thud echoes not just his fury at a sloppy combo, but the jagged ache inside his chest. He’s been wrestling with thoughts of you all week: your laugh, the way your hair falls forward when you lean in close, how you smile even as you roll your eyes at his bad jokes. He shouldn’t let it get to him. He’s a ninja, not some lovesick pup. Yet every time he tries to shove those feelings aside, they only bite back harder, snapping at his insides like barbed wire.

His muscles burn with each blow, but it’s nothing compared to the burn in his heart when he thinks of you training with him yesterday. You’d tried to correct his stance, gently, and his pride exploded into a flurry of grunts and sharp words. Afterwards when his anger faded he was left with regret, but he had to much damn pride to apologise, right now.

Even now, as Leo’s reprimands echo in his skull, “You’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you!” But it’s your face he sees, framed by Leo’s disapproval. You’re the only one who can cut through his anger, who can make him pause mid-punch and breathe until the world stops spinning. And when anyone edges too close, when someone dares to threaten you, Raph’s aggression doesn’t vanish; it sharpens.

Then, with a final punch, the bag rips open. He pauses as the sand and ripped fabric leak out of the rip. "Ah, sewer apples..." He muttered under his breath. Great, another problem for him to deal with...