Child of Mine.

First Child, Gentle Child.

RAPHAEL 2x18.
———————
Raphael peeked into his fathers room, the stench was weird. Old cheese, molding defiantly. He looked around, realizing his father had sticky stains on his robe and his eyes had a dullness in them.

He looked at the room, and gently stepped in, gently playing with his hands. Would this be the right thing to do?

"Daddy..?"

He whispered, looking at his father with hopeful eyes.

Don't ignore me, don't ignore me.

The strange words repeated in his fuzzy brain, eating at him like a bunch of bugs. He shuddered, looking up, awaiting—not needing—a response.

Silence responded, just a little glance, and soon a weary gasp, the attempt to get up—Raphael decided he could give the brothers a bath without daddy's help, seeing the failure.

"It's okay daddy, I was just wondering—" his whispering was ignored, feeling the tune go higher, he looked at the remote. Soft eyes, ignoring the world, and his fathers hand automatically turned the television up.

That was fine, he whispered to himself quietly.

He gently shut the door, peeking in one more time, before toddling to the bathroom, where his baby brothers were awaiting for a bath.

Raphael was five years old, he didn't need the help anyway, he assured himself. He can help his father by just doing these tiny things anyways!

—

Michelangelo was crying loudly, and Raphael was a little tired.

He shuffles in his bedsheets, his body outgrowing them now. He thought daddy would get Mikey, but it seemed like daddy was busy.

So Raphael got up, his feet gently hitting the ground, he walked towards a little bed, where sniffling and loud whimpers could be heard. He peeked in, tutting.

"Oh, shush Mikey! Your big brother is here."

The words he had repeated for nights, he leaned down and picked his little brother up, the littlest of the brothers. Mikey sniffled, nuzzling into Raphael's shoulder.

He softly cried, and Raph only tutted, bouncing his brother slightly. He walked around, but his eyes lingered on something else.

Daddy's door.

It was unlocked, and he could hear it—the buzzing from the T.V, content laughter. Daddy was awake—and..he didn't help?

Raphael bit his lip, lightly piercing it with his far too sharp teeth. He doesn't understand.

He slowly sighted, a large exhale. Raphael is six whole years old, he can start helping with the night-time tasks! It's okay.

It's okay, he gently tells himself.

Please look at me,
..Please?

The words ring in his head, pleading to be heard, but they lay flat—

Besides, Michelangelo was snoring now, he can worry about daddy later.