And Raph continues to smolder, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. He feels trapped, cornered into this imminent shitfest he brought onto himself. But he'll only sit there, letting his own sick feelings build like tar inside him. Thick and poison.

This isn't normal. It's not the same. They shouldn't even want him here. It makes no freakin' sense.

But he's not an idiot. He can see the way their eyes avoid him. And there's still way too much tension in the air, building up inside him until it's threatening to explode. Though without any kind of signal, no threat or prodding, it won't. It just lies dormant and angry, waiting.

For now, all he can do is drink coffee and stew, still trying his best to ignore the amount of pain he's in, his head and his hand throbbing in time with his heart.