- Raphael -
I punch the punching bag before me, seeing my fists move with liquid velocity, white training bandages zooming in front of my face.
Michelangelo is next to me, using his nunchucks on a training dummy. I usually don't strike up conversation while training, but the guilt eats me alive.
"Hey, Mikey?" I ask, punching the bag in front of me. Out of breath, he responds, though he doesn't stop.
"Yeah, Raph?"
"Jules cried last night." I say quickly. There's a crash and Mikey is on the floor, one of his nunchucks tangling his feet. I steady the bag in front of me. "Get up, princess, it's not the end of the world." I roll my eyes as he untangles his weapon from his feet.
He stands up and I look down at him. "Why did she cry?" he asks, genuine concern in his eyes, even though he doesn't know this girl from Adam.
A piece of me says it should have been Mikey on the fire escape instead of me. Or Leo. Even Donnie.
I couldn't do anything. I froze up at her story and her tear. I admit, I was always hard on her, but I didn't know what she was going through. I don't know what she's going through.
I shrug my shoulders and tighten my training bandages around my hand. "Her parents' death."
"Yo, her parents died?" Mikey's blue eyes were wide. I sigh and roll my eyes.
"Yes, Mikey, they died." I respond. Then, I sigh and relax my shoulders a bit. "Just, go easy on her tonight, alright?" my voice is surprisingly soft. Like hers.
Mikey nods dutifully. "Should I go tell the others?" he asks like an Igor asking it's master if it should do something, though not in the same tone or accent as one.
I moisten my lips and nod my head in the direction of the rest of the lair. "Yeah, sure, go ahead, Mikey." before Mikey leaves, I speak again. "And tell 'em we gotta leave soon. It's nearly ten."
"You got it!" Mikey responds, and he's well on his way.
I sigh and exit the dojo, heading to Donnie's lab. Mikey isn't here yet, and of course Genius is working on his nerd things as usual. I lean against the doorframe.
"Don, I'm heading out." I tell him, and he doesn't face me.
"Where to?"
"Jules'." I respond lazily. Donnie makes a low grunting sound and faces me.
"Don't you think you should wait for Mikey, Leo and I?" he asks, lifting his goggles from his eyes and placing it on his forehead. I scoff.
"No." I respond bluntly. Donnie rolls his eyes.
"We all wanna meet her, Raphael."
"That's the thing, goggles," I pull out one of my sais and start twirling it. "I've already met her." I shrug the sai to the left. "Kinda like a headstart." I smirk, putting the sai away. "Later, Blossom. I'll see you at Vern's."
I know Donnie is irritated, but he should be glad I even kept him in the loop. Plus, I want to make sure Jules is ready to meet my brothers. Or, rather, if I am ready to have her meet them.
Then, all that being special in her eyes will be eradicated. I'm not ready for that.
By the time I reach the fire escape and knock on the window of it, Jules is clad in a dark jeans and a sleeveless shirt that hangs mid thigh. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she looks like she's depreciated since the last time I saw her.
It worries me.
"Hey," she greets, sounding as if she's exasperated to see me when she opens the window. "Uh, it's not ten yet, but come on in."
I oblige and enter. "I know it's not ten, but better early than late." I say. There's music playing in the background, a song I don't know.
Let's not pretend like you're alone tonight. I know he's there.
You're probably hanging out and making eyes, while across the room he stares.
I'll bet he gets the nerve to walk the floor and ask my girl to dance.
She'll say yes.
"Right." she says and retreats behind the counter where she is busy making coffee. "Vern's not here. He's out with a friend. Coffee?" she asks and I stand on the opposite side of the counter.
"No problem." I say, "as for the coffee, I have no idea what it tastes like."
Jules' jaw drops and she instantly takes out another mug.
"Well prepare yourself, Raphael, for an amazing taste you'll never forget." she says. I question myself as she makes the coffee. Why am I being nice to her?
This girl is a trouble magnet on legs. She's reckless and impulsive and stubborn. Yet so, so soft and beautiful and calm and so very beautiful. Nothing on earth had ever compelled me to use the word "beautiful" twice but her. It makes sense why.
Her physical beauty is obvious, and stands out. Her inner beauty, however, is what hooks and reels. It's completely and utterly inescapable.
I don't realise when she puts a steamy mug of coffee in front of me until the smell enters my nose. I take the mug and sip. Not bad.
"It's really good." I tell her, and sip again. She has a smile on her face, even a sparkle in her sad hazelnut eyes.
"Right?" she chuckles.
Suddenly, the mood changes, and the atmospheric temperature drops a few degrees. Or at least, that's what it feels like to me.
A new song is playing now, a song that causes Jules to freeze.
Just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times.
Welcome to the final show.
I hope you're wearing your best clothes.
"Turn it off," she speaks softly at first before she shakes her head. Her voice becomes panicked when she eyes me. "I've got to turn it off." she says quickly. We place our mugs down at the same time, and I grab her arm as she tries to pass me.
"Why?" I pry, feeling her quickened pulse through my finger tips.
We never learn, we've been here before.
"Raphael, please let go." she speaks softly, panicked. "I've gotta turn this song off. I've gotta." she starts raising her voice and I see her swallowing. Hard.
I don't let her go. I scan her eyes with my own, ignoring the all too familiar burning sensation on my head.
"Jules, calm down. You're acting crazy." I say, my own voice surprisingly calm.
"No." she shakes her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "I have to turn it off."
Geez, does she know any other words?
Just stop your crying, it's a sign of the times.
We gotta get away from here.
We gotta get away from here.
Just stop your crying, it'll be alright.
They told me that the end is near.
We gotta get away from here.
Without thinking, I pull her to my chest and wrap my arms around her. I'm not a hugger, but I can see she needs it. She needs it bad.
And I'm right.
"This song." she tells me, but she doesn't cry except for two stray tears that tip down her eyes slowly. She wraps her arms around me, her being a nearly a foot shorter than me. "It played on that day. I gotta turn it off." she sounds defeated.
I feel bad, and I allow her to turn off the song. I pretend I didn't see the two tears, double the amount she cried yesterday. It's what she would want.
After all, tears show weakness. And who wants to be weak?
