Waking up dry, waking up dusty (Feeling remorse, feeling thirsty)
Summary: Raph wakes up from a nightmare, heart pounding, breath shaking. He's used to pretending he's fine, brush it off and swallowing it down. This time he's not alone.
But maybe he never was.
Title from "Always Ascending" by Franz Ferdinand
(F! Raph x Traximus, lone man au)
He wakes up with a gasp.
A scream choked on his dry throat makes it hard to breathe, tears unshed blur his vision, rising the panic on the back of his mind.
The dream is already slipping away, but the feeling clings onto him like a second skin, panic tightens his chest while his hand tries to claw it open to release pressure. The blanket sticks to his sweaty skin and it's just too much –
“Breathe” A low, steady voice says.
Raph jumps on his spot, his remaining eye desperately tries to find the voice next to him, he’s half expecting he’ll find one of the demons that haunt him in his sleep–
Instead, he finds Traximus, sitting next to him, hands hovering over his shoulder, unsure if he should break the distance between them. His eyes, dimly lit by the night, wait patiently for him to catch his breath.
Raph jerkily nods. His pulse still hammers in his ears, but he forces down gulp through his closed throat and exhales.
In and out.
In and out.
“I’m fine.” he finally rasps out. He almost believes it. Almost. But the shakiness of his voice betrays him, he’s still too winded up, too wired, and Trax sees it. “It was just a dream.”
Trax shifts in his place, finally resting a hand on Raph’s shoulder, rubbing it in slow, soothing circles. “Doesn’t look like a dream to me.”
The triceraton’s voice is steady as ever. Raph clenches his jaw and turns his gaze away, his hand stops clasping his chest to fidget with the blankets.
A long silence stretches between the two of them, neither break it, they both stay.
After a few minutes (or maybe hours, Raph thinks), he finally mutters “It’s stupid.”
Trax doesn’t respond; instead he waits for Raph to continue.
“We were back in the… Kraang war. It– I just–” His voice cracks. “I saw them die again, I could never make it on time… They always tried to reach for me but– I couldn’t do anything.”
Raph grips the blankets tighter. “I know it’s not my fault, they made their choices, but I cannot help but think that I… that I could've done more: talk to them, hold them back, anythin’...”
A single tear runs down his face. He quickly wipes it away. He hates this feeling, the phantom weight of things he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t fix. His breathing, while slower, is uneven, catching on his throat.
“Then I woke up.”
Traximus doesn’t respond, he doesn’t look away or pretends to not notice. Instead, after a moment of quiet consideration, he moves closer.
Raph doesn’t notice when Trax moves just slightly closer. Not looming, not overwhelming. Just there. Solid. Unshakable.
Then he offers a hand.
Raph only stares at it. Fist still clutching onto his blanket. He knows what it is. He can pretend he doesn’t need it, just shrug it off and bury everything down like he always does.
Or–
He could take it.
He hesitates, fingers twitch, then slowly he reaches out.
Palms press against each other, calloused fingers rubbing together, gripping onto thick and worn out skin. His digits get caught in the remains of old scars and burns, Trax’s heart aches in sympathy and Raph can feel it, for once, he feels understood.
And something about the way he does it, the certainty, the understanding in his voice, his movements, hits Raph deeper than he expects.
A sob escapes his lips, then tears won't stop coming.
Traximus doesn’t react much, just stays still, letting Raph set the pace. But there is something grounding about it, about the steady warmth beneath their skin, the quiet, unspoken I’m here.
After a couple of minutes, Raph exhales, the tension on his shoulders eases just a little.
“You really don’t gotta do this, y’know.” The snapper says.
“I don’t do things I do not wish to do.”
Raph snorts. The ghost of a smile tugs the corner of his mouth, tired but genuine. Trax exhales, slow but deliberate.
“I have seen many wars. Many battles.”
The soldier searches for Raph’s eyes, with his free hand he reaches and slowly pulls his face up to meet his own. His thumb wipes a stray tear and takes a moment to absorb Raph’s old and scarred face, he looks so tired and sad but there’s a spark still in there, willing to keep going and protect his whole world, even if it costs him everything.
“But the worst ones do not end when the fighting stops.”
Traximus watches him for a moment before shifting. His voice, when he speaks again, is quieter.
“You’re not alone in this, Raphael.”
He breathes out. “Yeah” The fear is still there, but the weight on his chest feels lighter. “Yeah, I know.”
The words linger in the air, settling on Raph’s bones in a way that makes his very core ache, but not in a bad way. In a real way.
They sit in silence after that. A comfortable silence. For a long time, neither of them move.
Raph lets out a long yawn, and subconsciously tries to rub his eyes with his lost arm. The exhaustion is starting to weight on him again, adrenaline wearing out.
Trax hesitates but ever so slowly and gently lowers down on their shared bed, he adjusts the pillows and pats the spot next to him.
The snapper lays down, his head rests on Trax’s chest, hearing the heartbeat underneath, it ushers him gently into sleep. Trax does an one armed hug, his hand scratching Raph’s shell between his spikes in a way that the turtle seems to enjoy as he quietly rumbles. He doesn’t comment on it.
“You ever get tired of bein’ right all the time?” Raph nudges. Trax chuckles, shaking his head.
“It’s a great burden, but I manage.” He adjusts his position. “Come on, rest now, you need it.”
With a long sigh, Raph obliges. For a second, he wants to argue. He isn’t used to this. Someone else watching out for him. Someone else offering their presence, their protection, their understanding. He wants to say I don’t need you to do all of this. But he swallows those words and tells his brain to shut up, because, for once, maybe just this once… he does.
“Yeah… okay.”
Traximus doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything else.
He just stays.
And somehow that’s enough.
Raph’s eyes drift closed. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but this time, nightmares don’t follow.
And when he stirs a few hours later, in that quiet space between dreams and waking, the first thing he sees is Trax’s sleeping form, still there.
For once, Raph doesn’t feel alone. And, for once, he lets himself believe that maybe he never was.