Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oddly enough, Mikey was the only one in his family without a distinct fear.

That was not to say he was fearless , because he was clearly not. His stomach flipped before his body in the competitions, he gulped down as the teachers set down his exam papers upside down, and he trembled as he stared at the last dose of Adderall he forgot to get refilled. He had many fears, but hey, they came prepackaged, baby! That was just being human.

But his family? Oh man, they were a mess. Raph still got pale each time they brought up Mrs. Cuddles, Donnie never recovered from the Beach Ball Incident of 2014 and Leo thought his self-worth depended on what the others thought of him. And Dad was a whole another case, because despite training his sons to the best of his abilities, he still had the shadow of fear in his eyes as he let them loose in NYC. Well, NYC wasn’t safe exactly, and he was right to worry! But it got too much sometimes— because he wasn’t as old as he looked. The fear and worry physically weighed on him.

Though, after today, Mikey could swear he saw a notification pop right in front of his eyes, saying: New Fear Unlocked!

That might have had something to do with the way his friend came back from his week-long absence . Just from a faraway glance, Mikey knew something wasn’t right. Well, he had guessed it before, because Hasan wasn’t the kind of guy to just ignore his texts. Even if he wouldn’t always join him at the skate ramp or share a cool graffiti he saw, he would at least send an emoji. Instead, the entire week had been a complete radio silence. The last seen online date remained the same, and the Mikey’s calls fell to voice mail. The teachers talked in hushed voices as Hasan’s other friends tried to reach him in every way they could.

And when he finally returned to school, as Mikey put on a bright grin, he saw the way Hasan looked.

He was… Well. Mikey didn’t think there was a word enough to describe just how awful he looked. Because everything was the same, with his faded gray hoodie and messy curly hair, and the backpack with a ripped handle he just refused to get fixed. Yet, he was so different— because his dark eyes seemed darker somehow, and his face was pale and lips thinned, and he had a slight stubble, and-

Mikey hesitantly reached for his friend, and noticed the way he seemed so close to breaking. He retracted the hand he lifted to lightly punch him on the shoulder.

“Hey, dude,” he said, with a voice that came wrong even to his own ears. “Everything alright?”

And, honestly, Mikey didn’t know how his friend explained it. How he managed to word it. Because if he had lost one of his three brothers, he would probably just shrivel up and die.

“Hussain, you knew him. He’s been sick for a while,” Hasan said, his gaze faraway. “He didn’t… We didn’t know it was so bad.” His throat clicked and Mikey held his friend’s hand. “He was only in 9th grade.”

Mikey had forgotten that people around his age died. As a sophomore in high school, the death seemed like a distant future. But it had been near to Hasan’s brother. It was near to Mikey.

But that wasn’t what Mikey feared. He feared the fact that the death was also near to his brothers.

Hasan didn’t break down in his arms after that. In fact, he hadn’t even shed a tear. He probably had cried enough for a lifetime for the past week. This time, it was Mikey’s turn to cry, and he felt like a total jerk about it— because it was Hasan who had just lost a brother, but Mikey was the one getting a hug. Actually, he cried so hard that the teacher had sent him to the infirmary.

As Mikey stared at the dotted ceiling, his body still shook with the occasional hiccups. The smell of antiseptic would fill his nose if it wasn’t filled with snot. His stomach wouldn’t growl if he had the appetite to eat lunch. Hasan would go and play basketball with his brother if he was still alive.

And Mikey had thought about this before, too. The idea of death wasn’t a novel concept. He knew, logically, they all had to die. It was only a matter of time and place. But he could distinctly remember how he pushed down this fact when he first realized it. How he felt the gut punch at the mere idea of it and found the solution in pretending that it was far, far away.

The door opened and closed. Mikey didn't even turn his gaze towards his brother, who shuffled near him.

“Hey, buddy.” Raphael's sweet voice was even gentler, because of course it was. He wasn’t immune to sick little brothers. And Mikey was in the infirmary, probably looking like a hot pile of garbage with his puffy face. “Are you alright?”

A big hand touched his forehead so gently, and in the absence of a fever, it resigned to stroking the beaded hair out of Mikey’s eyes. Mikey forced a smile and tried to ignore the way his lips wobbled.

“I'm good, Rapha.” He propped himself up with his elbows and leaned back on the wall instead. The wall was cold behind his sweat soaked shirt. Raphael's hand was warm on his own.

“One of the guys mentioned that you were here,” Raph said, and yeah, it made sense. Mikey didn’t even question how he knew Mikey would be here. He had simply assumed that Raph had a sixth sense for sad little brothers. “It was Thomas. You know, the one who always gets hit with the balls? The guy’s face is like a magnet, I swear.”

Mikey hummed, remembering the guy who just came in and left with a bloody nose. Despite Raph’s attempt at humor, he just wasn’t feeling like it. “I’m kinda feeling under the weather,” he explained in a small voice.

Raph scanned him carefully. His eyes didn't look disbelieving, but he totally knew there was more to this story. But he was a wholesome person and even a more wholesome brother, so he didn't push it. “A’right. Want me to call dad?” 

“No!” Mikey refused so abruptly that it made Raph jump in surprise. The nurse in the office sent them a disapproving look. “I'm really okay, bro,” Mikey insisted, quieter this time. “It’s just… I'm stressed, I guess.” The look in Raph’s eyes was not good. “We've got a quiz tomorrow. From World History.” he added, hastily.

“From World History,” Raph repeated, with a raised eyebrow. It was slit years ago. Despite what people might assume (because his brother was so big and strong and, unfortunately, intimidating to some), it was because of a hilarious accident that included a Don and one of his failed inventions.

“Uh, yeah.” Mikey dangled his legs down and hopped on the floor. “Look, I was about to leave anyway. Why don't you just return to your class?”

“I will.” Something in his tone told Mikey that he wasn't happy about it. Yet once again, the side of his eyes crinkled with love, and he patted Mikey on the head, ruffling his hair a little. “Stay safe, Mike. Text me if something happens, OK?”

With that, Raph had left. But he didn’t leave entirely , which made Mikey feel relief with a sick twist to it.

***

Mikey was buried into the cushions of the couch, going through Pinterest to get some inspiration for his next art project. The teacher had said they wouldn’t start it until the start of the next month because some students still weren’t finished with their current pieces, but Mikey desperately needed a distraction. After channeling his energy into preparing dinner, he had hopped onto the next most productive thing he could think of.

Leo was right next to him and he was frantic. Mikey watched his brother scowl in concentration as he broke out in sweat. He was maneuvering the controller in his hand, and whooped when he managed to pass Donnie’s car in Mario Kart. The purple twin was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, but Mikey could see just how hard he rolled his eyes. But he also smiled, which meant he was in a good mood, and he was willing to let Leo win for once. And honestly, thank God for that because Mikey wasn’t ready for another Raph Intervention. That usually meant they would all lose their video games privileges until Raph felt soft enough to give in to their puppy eyes.

The telltale sound of the front door closing made its way to the living room. Mikey straightened up, snapping his head back towards the door with a grin. “Dad!”

Splinter, although exhausted, replied with a smile of his own. “Hello, Orange,” he said, his nose twitching. “Hm, is this the Secret Recipe Spaghetti of yours that I smell?”

Mikey nodded so hard that the beads in his hair clicked. “Spot on! Want me to heat it up for you?”

“No need, son. I’ll eat some after I rest for a while.”

Yikes. Mikey should prepare a plate just in case, because Dad’s “rest” usually meant falling asleep in front of the TV and missing dinner.

“Splendid!” Donnie shot up from where he was sitting, completely abandoning his console and making Leo groan in return. He paid no mind to his twin as he clapped his hands and approached Splinter. “Welcome, papa. Can you sign my consent paper from the school for the aquarium field trip tomorrow?”

“Come ooon,” Leo whined, dropping his head on the back of the couch. “Didn’t you already go to that aquarium, like, a hundred times? Also, welcome home, pops.”

“Then this shall be the hundred and first time,” Donnie bit back. He flapped the small piece of paper alongside his hands and looked at Splinter— there were stars in his eyes.

Splinter squinted at the paper as Mikey dug out the reading glasses that were buried deep in the couch. Dad put on the glasses and planted himself on his classic seat, and Donnie skipped after him, settling down next to his feet.

Leo had a disbelieving smile as he crossed his arms. “What makes fish so interesting, anyway? You don’t even like fish!”

Mikey knew for a fact that this claim was wrong. Donnie didn’t like eating fish, and even that wasn’t completely true. What bothered him were the fish bones that made the eating a horrible sensory experience full of unwelcome surprises. On the other hand, he wasn’t above liking fish sticks. And when it came to not liking fish as a concept, that wasn’t true either. Especially after the most recent Jupiter Jim movie —A Trip To The Mariana Trench— Donnie had a deep dive (pun intended!) into the ocean life in general. Mikey still saw glimpses of designs for aquatic research robots on Donnie’s screen from time to time.

“Ah, it isn’t just fish, Leo!” Dee leaned in and spread out his fingers, ready to count. “There are all sorts of aquatic life forms there. A wide range of organisms, from sea slugs to turtles, can be found!”

“And nerds. Don’t forget about the nerds.”

“I said ‘aquatic’, Nardo. Besides, you don’t get to complain when you are the biology enthusiast.”

“I’m enthusiastic when it comes to learning about humans and mammalians.”

“That’s classist.”

“Oh, is that a pun? Did my dear twin brother make his very first pun?” Leo got down on all fours and crawled towards Donnie. “I’m so proud of you!”

Donnie tried to free himself as Leo clung to him. “I haven’t got the slightest idea as to what you mean,” he shouted, but it came out muffled because Leo was too busy stretching out his cheeks.

“Oh, I know you do, because then you sound like a sassy Victorian child.”

“Preposterous!”

“See?”

“Nardo— my eyebrows! You are smudging them, I’m— I will block all your devices from our Wi-Fi! And change all of your charging adaptors to the low-”

“Yeah, yeah. Just say cheese first.” The digital snapping sound echoed as Raph exited his room and promptly went to break the twins apart. He didn’t look impressed, though he couldn’t help but snort to the selfie Leo managed to take. Mikey snickered as he watched Leo make the said photo his new background —much to Donnie’s dismay.

“I suppose it means you won’t be going to the field trip, Blue.” Splinter gave the now signed paper to Donnie and looked at Leo above the glasses that slid down his nose. “Or you wouldn’t make such a fuss.”

“Wait, no! I do!” Leo scrambled to his feet and ran towards the stairs going up to his bedroom. “I do! I totally do! But I will go as a casual enjoyer, not a nerd!” His voice got muffled as he went upstairs and into his room, but got louder again as he made his way back. “I’ll be, like, so normal about fish! And slugs and turtles or whatever!”

Donnie raised his (now smudged) eyebrows to an approaching Leo with his own consent paper. “You just want to skip school.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m not a nerd.”

“Speaking of being a nerd,” Raph chimed in, “Mikey, did you study for your quiz?”

Mikey felt a cold bucket of water being dumped on his back as he stood up. “Dude, I totally forgot!” Because, yeah, he really did. On one hand, he regretted blaming his bad mood on to the innocent quiz this morning, but on the other hand, he was glad Raph knew about it and reminded Mikey of it.

The youngest Hamato gathered his stuff into his arms and scrambled off to his room. He felt kinda bad about leaving without a word —or heating up a plate of spaghetti for Dad, oh God, he really should’ve done that— but History couldn’t wait any longer. Because Mikey always relied on his short term memory when it came to History tests, as he just could NOT remember the details permanently, so it was time to cram now. Time to cram really hard.

He pulled out his textbook from the pile of, well, everything on his desk and turned on the study lamp. The lines of texts he had desperately highlighted during the lessons stung his eyes, and the doodles around the edges reminded him of how easy it was to just not study. He could really drop reading the same paragraph he had started three times already and… draw. Or listen to the podcast Leo had sent him a couple of days ago that he forgot to check out. Or maybe finally rewatch the cartoon from his childhood he had been meaning to start all over, man, that would be so nice-

“Argh, focus!” He lightly slapped himself on the cheeks and leaned onto the book in front of him. He had to study. He wanted to study. However, he could not study because his brain refused to cooperate.

He caught the sight of the time from his alarm clock and mentally winced. It was late and Adderall was really wearing off.

But that was no excuse! Because Mikey was determined, and if he was known for being one thing, that was being stubborn. Well, alongside many things, like handsome and friendly and— alright. Let’s get this over with.

He read the paragraph once again and finally managed to memorize the date (28th of June 1914) and the name (Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria). With this achievement, he gathered the courage to continue with the next page. He smiled in relief as he realized he did remember some details, actually, and maybe tomorrow’s quiz wouldn’t be a total disaster.

A knock reached his ears and made him jump in surprise, pulling him out of his precious focus. He grumbled in frustration but still, he yelled, “Come in!” in resignation.

Leo peeked inside before fully opening the door and stepping in. He made his way to Mikey’s bed and practically flopped onto it.

“So, my plan is to learn a little something about all the animals in the aquarium,” he started, spinning the phone in his hand like it was a fidget toy. “Because I know Donnie will rub everything he knows into my face. And I gotta have a comeback.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. He knew the reason was actually that Leo did find those animals cool, and liked learning about them— but more importantly, he wanted to have something to talk about with Donnie. Leo often complained when Donnie would go into “Speech Mode” but everybody knew he was just as excited as Donnie when he could contribute to the conversation.

It would warm Mikey’s heart if Leo hadn’t just interrupted his deep focus. “And you need to do it here because…?”

He flipped his hair and sent him a look. “Because I can’t risk Donnie seeing my research, duh!”  

“If Donnie really cared, he would find your search history with a single click, bro.”

“Yes, so let’s be quiet and not give him any hints.”

Leo's insistence on refusing to admit that he enjoyed hanging out with his twin brother (what a crime) was something that called for Dr. Delicate Touch, but. Mikey was tired. And stressed. And ready to choke someone because of the interruption.

He mumbled, “M’kay,” and returned his gaze to his book. His brain tuned back once in every few words, resulting in a static with random words floating around. Mikey tried to tie them together, make them make sense. But no, that wasn't happening. The gates of Focus had already closed.

“Oh, by the way.” Mikey snapped his eyes to his brother, who suddenly had a very odd air to him. For once, his gaze was cast down, on the fingers he was picking at, and his voice lacked its usual flair. It wasn't like him to appear reserved. Suddenly, Mikey had a fantastic idea as to what he was about to say. “Um… I've heard that one of your friends has lost?” rushed out Leo, proving Mikey right. “His twin brother?”

“He wasn't his twin,” Mikey corrected, almost immediately. Something in his voice made Leo look at him with a weird look in his eyes. “It's just… they were like twins. They were really close because they were barely a year apart.”

Of course they were. Hasan’s older sister was out of the state, a senior in college. His other two siblings were in the kindergarten and the crib, respectively. Having such a big age gap with the rest of the siblings caused them to be connected by the hip.

Personally, Mikey wasn't Hussein's friend, but he knew him. Hussein would tag along with Hasan when they met for skateboarding, or he would come to their class way back in middle school when they went to the same school. The shock of the death of a person that he personally knew was heart-wrenching. But it wasn't what made Mikey freak out at the moment.

It was the realization that one of the twins could die and leave the other one behind.

“Ouch, man.” Leo straightened up and reached for Mikey from where he was sitting. His fingers brushed the edge of the chair and tugged, pulling it towards him. “I'm really sorry. I heard some people talking about it at school and… I couldn't believe it.”

And he did sound sorry. There was no way in the world for Leo to hear the news of someone's twin dying and not reflect on his own situation. How that one day, either him or Donnie would die, and the remaining one would have to live with that fact. How the title of “twin” would be meaningless, because he would have lost his better half.

For a moment, Mikey wished them to die together.

For another, and a significantly longer moment, Mikey felt sick to his stomach for wishing for his brothers to die in any sort of context.

“Oh, Miguel.” Leo scooted over and pulled Mikey to his embrace, stroking his hair. Mikey wasn't crying, not this time, but he must've looked pretty awful even in this dim light to be pulled into an impromptu hug.

“No, I’m OK,” Mikey said, trying to reassure Leo. “Well, I am sad, but… It just shocked me, that's all.”

“Yeah, even I am upset, and I didn't even know the guy.” Leo huffed something that sounded like a humorless laugh. “Sorry to remind you of that, little bro.”

Leo didn't need to apologize, because he didn't remind Mikey of anything. Mikey hadn't forgotten about it ever since he heard the news. He didn't think about it constantly, but it stuck. Always on the back of his mind, whispering the uncomfortable truth of death. Buried down beneath the distractions Mikey threw on it, yet remaining there. Its presence obvious through the every little emotion.

Mikey knew very well that the more he tried not to think about it, the stronger the inevitable crash would be. So much for the therapist of the family.

“Do you want to, uh, talk about it?” Leo looked at him expectantly, while Mikey freaked out internally because is the twin telepathy so strong that it even applies to baby brothers?

“You know, I'm pretty tired.” He pulled back from the hug and stretched his arms behind his back and— ow, yeah, he was pretty tired. He gave a yawn, a pretend one that turned into reality pretty fast. “I think I'll sleep early tonight.”

Leo looked taken aback by this, his always carefully cultivated expression lacking from his face. He blinked a couple of times, but then put on an easy smile.

“Whatever you say, mi hermano,” he said, as he slid down the bed. “I should get going too— who knows, maybe I'll even catch some Z’s tonight.” He opened the door and threw a one last grin to Mikey’s way. “Good night, ‘k?”

Mikey simply stared at the sculptured grin. He felt like the world was sitting on top of his shoulders, and couldn't find the energy to smile back.

“Yeah, you too,” he mumbled, and watched the door close. Even though he took a glance at his open textbook, there was no way in the world for him to study now— with or without Adderall.

Chapter Text

Yeah, Mikey was definitely failing this test.

The clock on the wall ticked its last minutes as the neighboring students rushed out their last answers. Mikey was stuck, with the tip of his pencil crushing under his hold. He managed to write some answers to the best of his abilities— and according to Raph’s tips. His oldest brother had taken lessons from the same teacher and according to him, as long as he filled the space reserved for the answers, he’d be fine. Apparently there was a student who got away with writing a muffin recipe.

Mikey settled down to writing a soufflé recipe, since it was what he planned to bake today. Though he wasn’t even sure if he got that right, because. Well. Sleep hadn’t come easy last night.

Having a hard time with falling asleep wasn’t a new thing, but it had never been a crippling problem. Especially not when compared to Leo. While his older brother could go on days without managing to get a blink of sleep, all Mikey had to deal with was staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling a little longer than desired. But he couldn’t get away with that last night, as it took literal hours to fall asleep. And Mikey knew it wasn’t the usual issue. He knew it was because he used his brain too much.

Mikey wasn’t the one to overthink things, but his brain had an uncanny ability to latch onto something and not let go. Apparently the wrinkly dastard had decided that actually, we will think about death. The death of your loved ones, specifically. And when we do fall asleep, you’ll watch three hours of uninterrupted nightmares.

Mikey didn’t know what was worse: Seeing his family in shambles after Raph’s supposed death in the nightmares, or the thought of it not leaving his mind. Each time the thought re-entered his brain, he felt a shiver in his spine and a weight in his stomach. He felt guilty— because why was he even thinking about that in the first place? Raph was fine. Happy, even. And there was not a single trace of an illness on him, as he announced that he’d be going to the gym today with his friends to have a “who can punch the dummies the hardest” challenge. Yet, Mikey couldn’t shake off the idea that his brother would succumb to a terrible sickness and just. Die.

And Mikey kept telling himself everything was fine, Raph was perfectly healthy, stop freaking out— a little voice in his brain said, “But what if he died? Just like that?” And when Mikey tried to argue with it, saying that there was no reason for that, the little voice would fight back. “He could get hit by a car,” it would say. “Or something can fall on his head. You might never hear from him again. The goodbye from this morning would be the last thing you’d ever hear from him. Wouldn’t that be terrible, Michelangelo?”

So Mikey would stare at the questions on the paper and only realize the time was up when the teacher pulled the paper away from him. Yeah. Fun times!

He slung his backpack on one shoulder as he left the class. Thankfully, he had English after this, the lesson being one of those enforced “reading hours” — so maybe he could just wind down. Because he realized that the Bad Thoughts only came back as he tried to use his brain for something productive, to sour his mood further. So, perhaps, this was just the thing he needed. Maybe, for once, trying to read “Les Misérables” would make him less miserable.

If Leo could hear me, Mikey thought while smiling to himself, he’d be proud.

“Hey, Mikey! Who got you smiling like that?”

Mikey snapped out from his thoughts to see April, waving in front of his locker. He didn’t see her today, not even at lunch (because the Journalism Club had its meetings during the lunch break) so he brightened up at the sight. He grinned as he closed the distance between them. “Victor Hugo,” he said, casually. “How are you doin'?”

April raised her eyebrows a little at that, but chose to laugh and not push it. “Eh, the usual. I haven’t seen the boys today. What’s up?”

“Leo and Donnie? They went on a field trip,” Mikey explained, and April nodded sagely.

“Ah, the traditional aquarium trip of the junior year,” she said, wistful. One of her favorite things to do was to act all old and wise, ever since she became a senior. “And I was wondering what was all the ‘Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me’ caps I saw this morning were about.”

“And the ‘Shark Attack’ shirts,” Mikey agreed, grinning. Donnie was ecstatic to finally wear that t-shirt on a “Perfectly logical occasion, Mikey! I’m surprised you even asked. You see, the sharks are actually…”.

April laughed, her eyes softening. Ever since Donnie shot up like a beanpole, the t-shirt was so not in his size, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “Oh, Donnie…”

“Actually, he wanted to dress up like a highlighter to see if the fish would have any reaction to the bright colors, but Leo talked him out of it.” It was fun to see that Leo being the one to give fashion advice —and to Donnie, at that. It was also fun to see Raph taking Donnie’s pictures as he looked like a traffic cone before he changed his outfit. The glee of finally having blackmail material of Mr. I Record Everything was way too evident in his face.

“Oh?” A devious smirk spread out on April’s face. “He’ll never let him live that down.”

“Never,” Mikey agreed, laughing alongside. He should get his hands on those pictures ASAP. Man, he was in a good mood. But then, just like how it’s been all day, one of the Bad Thoughts entered his brain— and that must’ve wiped his grin off his face, as April looked at him with evident concern.

“You good, Mike?” She watched him through her cat eye frames, oh so careful. It’s honestly impressive how fast she can go from joking around to Caring Elder Sister™, Mikey thought. He folded his arms, as if to give himself a hug, and shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s just… I’m kinda feeling down? These days? But, um. It’s— It’s nothing serious!” He quickly added that last detail because April seemed ready to whip out her basketball bat to fight whatever was bothering him at the moment. Although the tension in her shoulders eased, she still seemed skeptical. “I have a lot on my mind, at the moment,” he explained, weakly. “So it’s all good, actually! I swear.”

“Was it the quiz you just had? Because I saw some students exiting the class, and they all seemed ready to get the teacher fired.”

“I mean, can’t say it went great.” Mikey took a breath of relief as he found something to blame his stress on. “You know how the World History can be.”

“Man, was it History? That explains a lot.” April shook her head in sympathy. “I'll tell you what: let me help you for the next quiz, OK? Your older sis knows a few tricks when it comes to getting those sweet A’s in History.”

“Like a new muffin recipe?”

“I— what.”

“Never mind!” Mikey giggled as he turned towards where his next class was going to be. “Love you, April! See ya!”

April huffed a fond laugh as she waved him goodbye. As soon as he turned his back to her, the smile on Mikey’s face fell. Every time he ran away from talking about The Subject, he felt like another brick was added to the pile on his shoulders. But he didn’t know how— how to explain this very real fear, how to even start the conversation.

Perhaps, he thought, I’m afraid of spreading this fear of mine. Because it’s real, and a heavy burden to bear. I don’t want them to be upset too.

He pushed open the door of the classroom and hoped to drown his thoughts in the book he was going to read— like a person with Perfectly Healthy coping mechanisms.

Man, this will definitely bite me in the butt one day.

***

Mikey had gone home by himself that day, since Leo and Donnie would return later from the field trip, and Raph had taken another bus to go straight to the gym. And it was fine, he was fine. It wasn’t the first time he had taken the bus alone, after all. But, well, the things he usually did to spend his time with called for a change. A renovation, even.

He would scroll through TikTok in hopes of seeing some cool art, and be slapped on the face with some angst filled fanart. And that art was cool, really! It just was on the wrong side of cool at the moment, like an icicle going through his chest. Or, he’d search for some new recipes, only to face a huge block of text about how the cook’s late daughter loved this dessert— and more heartfelt stories like that. Mikey loved heartfelt. It’s just… his heart felt too much at the moment.

But what finally threw him off the edge was a poem he saw in a post. At first, he didn’t realize that it was a poem —because it was so short, and how much emotion could a few lines even bear? Well. The answer was, apparently, a lot.

Mikey found himself staring at his screen, rereading the lines… again and again and again.

I loved my friend. 

He went away from me. 

There’s nothing more to say. 

The poem ends, 

Soft as it began, —

I loved my friend.

A drop of water fell on the screen, making the pixels all big and wonky. He hadn’t realized the tears were filling his eyes, and more came down as he blinked. Mikey sniffled, searching for the ancient napkin deep in his coat’s pocket. Even though he had turned off his phone, the lines were right in front of his eyes.

He went away from me. 

There’s nothing more to say.

The simplicity of it was carving a hole inside his heart. To the poet, someone had died, someone dear— and, it was just. That. There was nothing more to say.

And, Mikey realized, that frightened him. No, bad grades and failing a flip frightened him— but this? This terrorized him. It stole his sleep and occupied his mind, and gave a hallow feeling in return. It made his heart go loud in his ears and made him bite down his lip so hard that it bled.

The doors of the bus opened with a hiss and Mikey numbly walked out. His feet moved on their own, and when he finally lifted his head, he found himself in the front lawn of their house. The evening sun’s orange light painted the house generously. The trees swayed with the gentle wind. The post box he had painted in elementary school stood crooked, and the grass covered their old tracks on the dirt. The view whispered change into Mikey’s ears. It told him how the trees were now adorned with colors of red and orange, and soon there’d be none. It told him no matter how much they ran on this grass when they were kids, new grass would always grow, covering their traces. It screamed how, eventually, things will leave and be replaced. And it all reminded him that they would all die one day, and someone new would move in. The cycle of life would go on.

There was nothing more to say.

***

It wasn’t his style to make the same thing twice in a row, but he really wanted to choose the lazy option and make pasta. However, his principals didn’t let him, so he decided on the next best option: pizza! He had enough ingredients and all he had to make was the dough, so it wasn’t too much of a hassle.

And soufflés, he reminded himself, because they were Raph’s favorite. Mikey didn’t prepare the batter yet, because by the time he baked them, they would deflate and just be regular chocolate muffins. And regular wasn’t Mikey’s style! So for now, simply preparing the ingredients and leaving them on the counter seemed enough.

The jingling of the keys from the front door echoed in the empty house. Mikey looked up from the slices of pepper he was distributing evenly around the dough with a smile. The quiet, cat-like footsteps told him who had arrived even before Mikey saw the flash of purple.

“Hey, Dee! How was the aquarium?”

“Oh, it was amazing!” Despite his visible exhaustion, Donnie rocked back and forth on his heels. “There were even more animals than I saw the last time— and they had these charts that showed how their anatomy helped them maneuver their way in the water!” He came closer and put his phone on the table, swiping through the photos in his gallery. “It gave me so many new ideas.”

Mikey watched his brother grin deviously and rub his hands together, as if he had something evil in mind. Well, that was Donnie— so maybe he did. Either way, Mikey giggled and looked at the pictures, even though he didn’t understand much.

“I would’ve gathered even more data if Leo would let me wear my initial outfit, but alas,” Donnie complained. The Shark Attack shirt stood on his shoulders, a little short like a crop top. With the long-sleeved shirt underneath and the headphones around his neck, he looked like a teen protagonist from a 2000s movie. “My experiential learning opportunity was wasted, just like that.”

“Oh, speaking of Leo,” Mikey interjected, “where is he?”

Donnie snapped out of his dramatic performance. He flapped a dismissive hand. “He stayed for practice,” he explained, in a somewhat annoyed voice. “Apparently they have something ‘big coming up’.” The air quotes added even more frustration to his statement.

Mikey’s eyes glanced at the digital clock on the oven. “But isn’t it too late? For practice?”

“Thank you, Michael. I’m glad at least one of my brothers have some common sense.” Donnie took a deep breath, shaking his head. “His teammates confronted him as soon as we got out of the bus. They didn’t go to the field trip and instead, used this ‘opportunity’ to practice all day.” He huffed and made the stray hair falling on his face rise up. “They told Leo to take basketball more seriously, etcetera, and went home. Now that idiot is practicing all by himself. Perhaps he’s planning to lock the place up with the janitor.”

“Not if I have something to say about it.” Mikey wiped his hands on the apron and reached for his phone. The anger boiled deep within his chest, and he didn’t even try to suppress it. Nobody could walk around in an aquarium all day, and then stay to practice basketball all by themselves. Definitely not if that also meant they would miss dinner.

Donnie’s eyes widened as he recognized the Dr. Delicate Touch surfacing. “Well, I trust your judgement, brother,” he said briefly. Mikey put the phone to his ear as he watched his purplest brother take off.

After a very short phone call (which included Mikey screaming some self-care into his brother) he put the pizza in the oven. He set the timer and went to the living room, just to stay close, so he could hear the alarm as it went off. Normally, he’d watch some videos mindlessly as he waited, but he didn’t feel like going online at all at the moment. So what he ended up doing was looking through all the things they displayed on their walls and shelves. All the trophies and the photos, like he was looking at them for the first time.

Majority of it was from Donnie, thanks to his consistent participation in STEM contests since the 4th grade. There were a couple from his swim meets, as well. Many trophies and medals shone under the warm lighting of the living room. There were also a few photos of small Donnie, with him missing a front tooth (thanks to Leo) and a trophy too big for him to hold. Mikey stared at his baby-older brother and couldn’t help but smile at the way his big square frames stood crooked on his nose, or how amateur his drawn on eyebrows looked.

Then there was Raph and his humble amount of medals from the sports competitions. He had only one photo, and in that one his eyes were closed with a nervous hand on the back of his neck. He wasn’t… the most photogenic one among them, but Mikey found it cute regardless. It just meant Raph looked as awkward as he actually was, and it was endearing. It was hard to display the reality of someone in a photo. Raph’s photos did exactly that.

Leo had a few things too, and all of them were photos. God, he’d always loved having his photos taken. They all showed the same, bright, confident smile. From his crooked teeth and the way the sides of his eyes would crease (exactly like their dad!), he carried his signature look from his childhood to this day. It didn’t matter if he was holding a shinai in the picture, or a very grumpy Donnie in his arms in front of their 10th birthday cake— he looked the same. It was obnoxious and irritating. Mikey loved every bit of it.

Mikey himself had some awards and photos, mostly taken in his gymnastics meets. Perhaps because he looked at them a million times, he skipped them and went onto the largest frame on the wall. It was the most recent addition, with the photo being taken only last year. Splinter had decided that —since Mikey was in high school too— all the kids were grown up, and that called for a family photo. So he had rented kimonos in their signature colors and hired a professional photographer. He even took them to the Sakura Park in Manhattan to get the best background.

It was their first time wearing kimonos, but Splinter had made sure they all looked natural. He put their hair into high buns with their bandanas, as if to resemble samurai top knots. Leo had ocean wave patterns on his robe’s chest. Donnie’s arms were folded, his pose mirroring Leo’s. Even Raph seemed comfortable in his deep red attire, smiling at the camera with his snaggle-tooth pinching down at his lip. Mikey’s kimono was in sunset orange, just like how he liked it. He had a grin so wide that his eyes were closed. And in the middle stood Splinter, the only one who looked truly comfortable in his robes, with his hands hidden inside his sleeves.

It was a picture that brought tears into Mikey’s eyes every time. It was wholesome, OK? And it still made him cry, but this time, it was for a different reason. The thought whispering into Mikey’s ear was, “But what if this is the last picture where you are together with your family?”

“Dude,” Mikey said, flatly, “that’s such a bad take.”

“Really? I think we all look fantastic in that photo, hermano.”

Mikey had jumped in surprise so hard that he almost knocked over the false shamrock Donnie doted on. Well, in Mikey’s defense the plant was huge, but still. He’d never hear the end of it from Don if he had actually broken the pot.

“Bro, don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” He put his hand on his racing heart and glared at Leo. At least the shock seemed to take Mikey out of his Bad Thoughts, so… profit?

Leo raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. He held his backpack in one hand over his shoulder and leaned on the door frame. “I said hi first, actually. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah— I’m fine.” Mikey shook a dismissive hand. He sniffled one last time to make sure he still wasn’t actively crying. He took a deep breath to adjust himself and returned his gaze to Leo. His brother was now looking at him with narrowed eyes, as if Mikey was full of secrets. So, naturally, Mikey did the most logical thing to do in this scenario— he groaned.

“Why are you staring at me like that? I thought I told you to—”

“Come home ASAP and take a shower and ‘bring my ass to the dinner table’? Yes.” Leo rolled his eyes — which was, ouch? Mikey was right with all of those points. “You also temporarily deafened me in one ear, so, thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Mikey bit back.

“Oh, my pleasure.”

Leo was definitely in a bad mood, that was for sure. If he wasn’t, the first thing he’d do was to throw himself on to Mikey and not listen to his protests about how much he stunk, and how much he needed a shower. Not do, well, whatever this was. And, hey, Mikey wasn’t thriving at the moment either! So he could be excused if he indulged Leo in this—this thing.

But, in reality, he couldn’t, could he? Not when he had the fresh realization that any moment he spent with his brothers could be their last moment together. Then Mikey would spend the rest of his life regretting the snappy comeback he did, just to indulge in a momentary pleasure.

He felt his lower lip wobbling, so he bit it to make it stop. He squeezed at his bicep with one hand and looked down, at the tip of his colorful socks. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I’m. Uh. I don’t know why… I’m like this, I mean.”

He gathered the confidence to look up, only to see a stunned Leo. Normally, their brotherly scuffles would go a lot further— so this one was practically nothing. It was expected for Leo to be surprised at Mikey’s reaction.

Thankfully, the oven’s timer went off, saving Mikey from another awkward conversation. He passed by Leo as he made his way to the kitchen. “Gotta go!” he said, as chipper as he could make it. “And I meant the shower part, Leo!” 

***

“And it was accurate, both anatomically and measurement wise,” Donnie explained, his own pizza slice gone cold in his hand. “It was love at first sight, brethren. However, I could not pay that much money to a lobster plushie.”

“Your sacrifice won’t be forgotten, Dee,” Raph said, huffing out a laughter. He was already done with his share of the pizza, as expected of him. He was one “hungry boi” and even hungrier whenever he came back from the gym. “You know how gift shops are. Anyway… How was your day, Leo?”

“We literally went to the same place,” Leo said, rolling his eyes but not lifting his gaze from his plate. Before Raph could scold him for his bad behavior, he leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “It was fine, I guess. I got to see a bunch of fish and turtles, or whatever.”

“And shared some interesting trivia along the way, which was surprising,” Donnie added, helpfully. He looked pleased about it— so Leo’s plan of studying before the trip must’ve worked. Donnie turned his face to Raph. “Did you know that some fish —like the salema porgy— have psychedelic properties? Its name literally means “fish that makes dreams” in Arabic.”

“You are right, that is interesting,” Raph agreed. “I’m glad the trip went well for you guys! Well, how about you, Mikey? Oh, you had a quiz! How did that go?”

“Uh…” Mikey nervously tapped his foot on the floor, his eyes snapping up from his pizza. “It… went.” He chuckled, tense, and shrugged a shoulder. All three of his brothers were staring at him, but Leo’s eyes specifically bore into his head. “It wasn’t great,” Mikey added. “Sorry.”

Raph’s gaze softened. “Nah, don’t sweat it, big guy. I know how that teacher can be. I’m sure you’ll fix it the next time, OK?”

Mikey took a reluctant bite from his pizza. He really didn’t have much of an appetite. “Yeah,” he said, “thanks.”

A silence blanketed the dining table. It was odd— because this table was always full of life, no matter how hard Splinter had tried to teach his sons some table manners. But now? The sound of chewing filled the air as the brothers gave each other side glances. And Mikey knew it wasn’t just him having weird-ass obsessive thoughts, either— Leo was kind of snappy, too. Or maybe Leo was snappy because Mikey was having those thoughts and not opening up about it. Well, regardless, there was tension in the air and Raph and Donnie were confused as ever.

“I’m sorry, is there something I’m not aware of?” Donnie had lifted his hand, as if to ask for permission to speak. “I don’t like this.”

“What do you not like about this, Don?” Leo asked, with an annoyed laugh. “What bothers you, hm?”

Raph tried glaring at Leo, but Donnie seemed to take this as a genuine question, because he replied with, “The vibes.” He made a sweeping gesture. “Something— something’s off. And I seem to be left out.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, hermano,” said Leo, easily. That boy lied through his teeth, so Mikey wasn’t surprised one bit. “Everything’s fine— except the fact that you snitched on me to Mikey about the practice. Oh, and, this whole situation with Mikey!” He looked at Mikey as if he just noticed he was there. “Maybe he will enlighten us about it, huh? Because he keeps saying it’s fine when it’s clearly not fine-”

“It IS fine though!” Mikey looked at the widened eyes of his brothers and — oh. He hadn’t realized that he stood up, slapped the table and even yelled. He cleaned his throat and sat back down. “Sorry,” he said, weakly. “But everything’s fine, Leo. Stop worrying about it.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, and I’m the king of England.” Leo did not look impressed. He hadn’t even touched his share of vegetable pizza (which would normally be a red flag on its own. Ouch.) and he quirked his chin. “Did you tell them about Hussein?”

“What about Hussein?” Raph scowled and looked between Mikey and Leo. “He… Wasn’t that the boy from—”

“Middle school, yeah,” Mikey finished the sentence. “Hasan’s brother.”

“Alright,” said Donnie, “what about him?”

“He’s dead,” Leo answered, helpfully. There was something choked in his voice. The other two looked at him dead in their tracks, shock visible from every inch on their faces. “He passed away,” Leo went on. “He-”

“Was sick.” Mikey blinked hard to dissipate the tears gathering in his eyes. “He was sick and passed away.”

And if the silence just before was bad, the current one was deafening. Mikey sniffled. Raph moved his chair closer to Mikey’s and put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s dead and you guys have no idea.” Mikey closed in on himself, gathering his arms. “It’s just… weird, ya’ know? How everything else remains and. Life goes on. I don’t know. I think it’s weird.”

“No, you are right, it’s weird.” Donnie looked at him, but not directly at him, and at the wall behind him instead. Even though his voice remained its usual disinterested monotone, Mikey could pick out the slight tremble to it. “So this is what’s been bothering you?”

“Yeah,” says Mikey, and decides on not adding the Details. Because it was what bothered him in the first place. Now it was something entirely different —something like the fear of losing one of his brothers— but it was unrelated. Sort of.

“Hey,” said Raph, nudging him gently. “Do you want a hug?”

Mikey dove into the arms of his oldest brother. He wanted all the hugs he could get from them. After a moment, Leo stood up, with his chair scraping the tile surface, and joined in. Even Donnie, although reluctantly (as if he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do), joined in on the pile.

Mikey squeezed even further, breathing in the smell of his brothers. Raph’s cheap deodorant, Leo’s ocean breeze shampoo, and the smell of smolder stuck on Donnie’s clothes. He breathed them all in, as if that would be his last breath.

“Let’s hope that’s not your last group hug!” said The Bad Thought, helpfully. Mikey buried his nose into Raph’s chest as a response.

***

Splinter had come late from work, much to Mikey’s disappointment. He really wanted his dad to have some freshly baked, fluffy soufflés. Instead, he had to settle down to serve him some deflated abomination and a tea that had gone lukewarm.

Splinter, on the other hand, cherished this like he did literally anything else Mikey made: which was as if the food was from a cook with multiple Michelin stars. He had taken the plate gracefully and even scraped off the sugar that covered the soufflé cup. (Spoiler alert: he did NOT have to do that. The sugar was only to give some flavor— and Mikey found himself regretting not warning him beforehand.)

After that, the living room’s wall started to close in on Mikey. Donnie was doing the dishes (while gagging occasionally despite wearing gloves, and yelling, “Why don’t you just let me build a dishwasher? I could save us from this misery!”) and Leo was in his room, doing God knows what— especially after he got scolded by Raph about practicing at such a late hour. Only Splinter and Raph were left, quietly watching the very loud Japanese game show. Well, judging by Raph’s thousand yard stare, he was more like staring at it. This still left Mikey all by himself, though.

He stood up to make his way to his bedroom. Raph seemed like he wanted to object, his grip on the arm rest tightening, but for some reason he decided against it. Mikey was grateful for that. He was, for the lack of a better term, feeling like shit. The little amount of sleep he managed to get last night likely didn't help.

He found his room just like how he left it. Raph called it “like a tornado passed through”, but Mikey preferred the term “chaotic harmony”. The placement of the books don't make sense to you, Raph; but to me, under the chair is perfectly reasonable.

Though, before he realized it, he found himself gathering all the stray books and stuffing them in his bookcase. And folding the overloaded clean laundry that piled up in the corner. And sorting his dirty laundry scattered around on the floor from his brothers’ (how did Leo’s socks even end up here?). And crisscrossing all the past dates on his calendar.

Yikes. Mikey stood in an eerily clean room. We need to unpack this.

Tidying up wasn't his forte, but hey, it turned out that he enjoyed this session? Well, actually, he did not exactly enjoy or get bored with it, but a secret third thing— he liked how the busy work blocked out the thoughts. His thoughts were always weird, and judging by the way they went up and down, they aspired to be a rollercoaster when they grew up. It wasn't the first time in Mikey’s life that he wanted to get off this ride and have a quiet, peaceful mind. But it was the first time for Mikey to feel like he was about to go insane.

His psychiatrist had once advised him to write down his thoughts. She told him that, in that way, he could see them all laid out in front of him and have an easier time while sorting them out. Mikey never once took her advice on it, because he was not the writing type of artist. He mostly preferred to have colors speak for himself.

So he grabbed his sketchbook and turned the pages filled with mural designs, opening an empty one. He held his usual sketching pencil, 2H, and. He stopped.

His hand was frozen over the page with not a single idea in mind.

Well, if it were ideas that he wanted, there were plenty. He didn't have ideas on what to draw.

How did people do this? How could the ‘depressed artist’ be such a popular concept when in reality it was this?

Mark Rothko, you failed me.

It wasn't his first time that he got art block. But he didn't know if this was art block or something else— because he lacked the suffocating feeling in his chest the inability to draw brought. Instead, he found the cold bundle of raw fear. An emotion he found hard articulating.

In the end, he realized that, he was afraid of connecting his art to the fear of losing his loved ones. He was scared that each time he lifted his pencil, the poison would leak into his thoughts.

He snapped his sketchbook shut. The door to his room creaked open.

“Orange?”

Of course, it was Dad. He never left his Asian roots, and definitely not the part that made him unable to knock on his sons’ doors.

Mikey turned around in his chair and put on a bright smile. “What's up, pops?”

Splinter peeked inside, then, although hesitantly, entered the room altogether. He was holding a plate in one hand, but Mikey couldn’t see what was in it from where he sat. The soft footsteps stopped right next to him. The plate was put on the table with a soft clunk.

A fig was placed at the center of carefully laid out apple slices. Mikey blinked a couple of times, feeling touched. His dad was a good dad, and yes, he wasn’t perfect , but. Apple slices meant care in Splinter’s love language. It was often deserved after a fight with their dad, or when they were sick. So Mikey found this gesture uncalled-for, especially after a delicious meal and a mediocre dessert and a very uneventful interaction with his dad. That didn’t mean he didn’t want it– he just couldn’t understand.

“I’d like to talk to you, Michelangelo,” Splinter said, and all the alarm bells went off in Mikey’s brain. Not Orange, not Mikey but the full name instead? Did someone die?

No, bad thought, Mikey thought, shaking his head a little to pull himself together. “Y-yes.” His fingers tapped rapidly against his thighs. “Hope everything’s alright?”

Splinter looked at him with something in his eyes, and Mikey didn’t know what it was. It was something warm, caring— but it also had a hint of guilt and perhaps, pity. What could make him feel this way? To Mikey, no less?

He took a deep breath. “It’s alright, my son,” he said, “to not be alright.” He sat on Mikey’s bed and held a hand between his. His hold was warm, like the evening sun in summer. The look in his eyes remained, but he smiled. “Red told me that you lost your friend, and… I wanted to give you my condolences.”

Oh. Someone did die.

Mikey opened and closed his mouth, dumbfounded. “Well, I mean,” he managed to say, “We weren’t really close.” He shrugged a shoulder. “He was more like… my brother’s friend. So, um. Thanks.”

Splinter’s eyes widened a bit at that, but he didn’t elaborate on that. His silence spoke volumes as he pat Mikey’s hand. In the end, he looked away from his son. Looked somewhere far.

“I know it hasn’t been easy,” he started, choked. “Losing your mother, I mean. And I’m so sorry about that. That you four had to grow up without a mom-”

“Dad, this isn’t about mom!” Mikey couldn't believe his ears. “It’s never been! You took good care of us, and we are better off without her— I swear.”

Mikey had meant it. All this time, while he broke out in cold sweat with the fear of the death of his family, he never once thought about his mom. Firstly, he didn’t even know his mom— so what was there to think about? It was always him, his brothers, Splinter, and April. That’s what he knew as a family. That’s what he loved and cherished.

And now, when he looked at his dad and saw the Look in his eyes, it suddenly made sense. The guilt was from not being able to provide a mother to them. And, judging by the way it surfaced with the barest mention of death, he had carried this guilt with him all this time. Did he think about it each time he looked at his sons? Each time one of them was troubled, and he didn’t know what to do? Did he blame himself for it? Did he lose sleep like Mikey was losing these days?

“I love you, dad,” Mikey said, unwavering. He slipped his hand out and put it firmly on his dad’s. “All of us do. Don’t you ever blame yourself for how things didn’t work out with mom, OK?”

Splinter stared at him, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Mikey knew this look. Leo got the very same one when he got compliments and thought the others wasn’t looking his way. Donnie did too, but his was different, stemming from his hunger for parental validation. Leo’s was simply from not thinking he was enough.

If Mikey had to punch the self-love into his family’s heads, he sure was going to do that.

His dad cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. “Very well,” he said, with a gentle smile. “I love you too, Orange. All of you.” He stood up and placed a kiss on the top of his bandana. “Do not hesitate to come to me if you ever want to talk, alright? I’ll be there for you.”

“Yeah dad,” Mikey said, “I know.” He returned the smile and watched his dad leave. Splinter didn’t forget to close the door, surprising Mikey.

There was no way he could talk to his dad about death if it meant he would have that haunted look in his eyes again.

Chapter Text

“I hope you are ready, Mikey!” Donnie yelled from the hallway, his monotone hiding the hint of excitement. “According to my algorithm, we have 45 minutes left to get the highest quality goods!”

Mikey dug out his socks from under the bed and stumbled out of his room. Just like every Saturday morning, they were going to visit the farmer’s market. This time, Donnie had insisted on going before the breakfast, mostly to test his algorithm’s accuracy. He let Mikey know about his plan last night. Therefore, Mikey had multiple alarms set, and a hard time falling asleep. And as he remembered seeing the first rays of sun as he slipped into fitful sleep, naturally, he had missed the alarms— all 6 of them.

Not that his brothers needed to know about it! He’d always been a deep sleeper, and very hard to wake. Most likely, none of them would ask for an explanation.

Donnie lifted his gaze from his phone when he saw him, bending down to wear his shoes— but then, he looked back at Mikey. His gaze was piercing, the carefully drawn eyebrows furrowed. Ouch. It was never fun to be on the receiving end of Don’s Stare. And it was unusual, at least to Mikey. Most of the time, Leo was the victim.

“Are you alright?” Donnie had nothing but good intentions, Mikey knew. But it didn't stop him from wincing.

Seeing this, Donnie blinked rapidly. It was his cover-up for a mistake in an interaction, the gears in his brain being rearranged. “That was a stupid question— never mind. Are you ready to leave?”

“Ready as I'll ever be, Don!” Mikey skipped and grabbed his own boots from the shoe rack. The skies were blanketed with purple clouds, a warning sign of the approaching rain. He slipped into his bright yellow raincoat and leaned onto an umbrella as if it was a cane. However, Donnie was still watching him, like he wasn't convinced by the act one bit. “C'mon,” Mikey nudged him, smiling. “45 minutes left, remember?”

His older brother did something like a mixture of a nod and a shrug, and went back to wearing his lace-less shoes. Raph came to say goodbye and wrestled Donnie into wearing his own raincoat.

“I know you don’t like how it makes so much noise when you move,” Raph said, “but I swear to God, Don, if you get sick, Raph won’t give you cuddles.”

“Aren’t you supposed to punish my behavior instead rewarding it?”

“Oi.”

“Sigh. Fine.”

With Donnie all covered and cozy, Mikey checked if he got his wallet for one last time, and off they went.

The smell of ozone filled their lungs. Donnie’s small umbrella was hooked around one of his fingers, tapping against his leg at every step. The familiar faces Mikey saw each weekend returned his smile. The wind rustled at Mikey’s hair, making his beads click like his head was a wind-bell. The puddle Donnie steered away from hosted a pigeon, drinking at it. Life was good, life was well. Everyone was safe.

When they arrived at the market, Donnie immediately got fidgety. He had a habit of “rating” the quality of the vegetables and fruits, asking the sellers about the kinds of fertilizers they used and the genetic source of their seeds. If he actually managed to get answers was unknown to Mikey, but he did know he liked to see his brother happy.

The younger Hamato grinned at the other. “You know, the shopping list I have is pretty short. Why don’t we meet here half an hour later?”

Don rubbed his hands together, looking away. A clear sign of his uncertainty. “But what about my algorithm?”

“I mean,” Mikey said, shrugging, “You can assess the quality of the products at home, can’t you? And I have half an hour limit, and it’s within your… parameters? Well, whatever you call it.”

Donnie’s face split into a grin. “Oh, I love you so much!” he exclaimed, hands flapping in front of his chest. “Let’s do it!”

They split up, as easy as that. That’s why Mikey liked to go outside with Donnie, because Donnie had faith in him to not die the very moment he was on his own. Then there was Raph, who still pursed his lips in reluctance when Mikey told him he needed a quick trip to the convenience store. He would, without a doubt, be very mad at Donnie if he knew he left Mikey unsupervised.

Mikey’s smile didn't falter as he watched Donnie skipping to the nearest stand, already overwhelming the poor farmer who just wanted an early Saturday profit. He watched Donnie talk animatedly for a few seconds, then turned his back to him to go to the other way, where he could get the items he required. The little whisper against his neck said, “You split up. You split up! Will Donnie be OK? How will you know when something happens to him?”

If the voice had an owner other than his brain, Mikey would choke the guy. The desire to do so was strong, so he found himself clenching and unclenching his fist at the side. One of the old ladies passing by him sent him a look. Mikey forced himself to put on a grin. He could already feel the thoughts piling and piling against each other, tipping over dangerously on top of his head. It wasn't even 9 am. He already wanted out.

It turned out, when your mood is sour, and you spend all your mental energy to shut your brain up (and fail), the shopping was a very fast experience. Like a speed run, even. The patrons who were used to Mikey’s small talk seemed thrown off by this, but it was way past the point of care. Mikey just wanted to get this over with. He just wanted to see his brother.

Wow, he was starting to understand how Raph felt.

Being 15 minutes too early, Mikey sent Donnie a quick text, apologetic.

“I'm already done bro u can meet me at the entrance <3”

The three dots indicating an answer being typed jumped up and down for a while, and disappeared. They appeared again a moment later.

“You really weren't kidding when you said the list was short. I'll be on my way.”

The rain had already started, brushing at the tip of Mikey’s nose. The pitter-patter of it on the coat’s hood merged to the sounds of the city. Mikey’s heart was significantly lighter after seeing Donnie’s answer.

“A physical proof of him still being alive,” said the whisper.

“Would you stop that already?” Mikey sneered. The pedestrians didn't take it personally, as they passed without giving so much as a glance to Mikey. It was New York for you, baby.

Donnie returned, and Mikey was half expecting him to be frustrated, but he didn't appear to be so. He could think he portrayed his “Emotionally Unavailable Bad Boy Persona” as much as he liked, Mikey still saw right through him. Donnie just had a hard time identifying his feelings. Opting out and saying he felt none at all was easier.

Mikey wished he could hop onto the same wagon.

“It's the second hand bookshop next, right?” Mikey asked, as if it was their first time around Union Square, and they hadn't done this a thousand times already. Donnie humored him with a nod of his own. His side eye didn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t elaborate on his thoughts.

The shop was two blocks away, squeezed in between two locals coffee shops. The glass front of the shop let the warm yellow light illuminate the dim street, with the sun being blocked by thick clouds of rain. Mikey pushed the door open despite carrying every bag from the farmer’s market. Donnie hated getting his hands wet, he knew. The door closed with a jingle after the two of them.

The owner of the shop was an old man whom Mikey could only describe as Robin William’s twin. He had a calm demeanor and a kind smile, with reading glasses pushed down his nose and turtleneck sweaters that looked way too cozy. Mr. Luther, Mikey recalled his name. It was written on the glass window with curved letters as well.

Mikey dropped the bags in front of the empty counter. He and Donnie waited idly on the carpet by the door, a safety measure for the days with heavy rain. Mr. Luther was very particular about his books’ safety. A moment later, a head popped up from the door behind the desk and flashed them a warm smile. Mikey replied with one of his own.

“You kids are early today,” Mr. Luther said in lieu of greeting. “But it’s great timing! I just finished placing some new books on the shelves. I think they would pique your interest,” he said, looking at Donnie above his glasses. “They’ll be in the Astronomy section.”

Donnie perked up at that, and scrambled off to the said section without bothering with small talk. Mr. Luther seemed content with it— even though he was a chatty man, he wasn’t about to disturb his Number One Customer. Mikey chuckled at the speed of his brother. The shop wasn’t… going bankrupt, per se, but it wasn’t being swarmed by customers either. The amount of books increased each time they visited, filling every little hole the small shop had. Mikey recognized a few of the books. They haven’t moved ever since he first came here.

“Is there something I can offer to you, young man?” Mr. Luther’s eyes glinted under the overhead lights. “I remember that you liked comic books, correct?”

“Do you have any new Jupiter Jim comics?” Mikey swayed on the balls of his feet. He got excited even though the odds were quite low. They bought anything JJ related the moment Mr. Luther received them.

The man thought for a minute, scratching his beard. A moment later, his face lit up. “I think we do!” he said, moving out from the back of the counter. “I didn’t remember that immediately, because I think it’s a crossover. Hm, did I put it next to the DC Comics, I wonder?” He led Mikey to a corner, passing by a Donnie buzzing with excitement. They reached to an enormous stack of comic books, piled all the way up to the ceiling.

Mr. Luther went through each issue, squinting his eyes to read tiny little names at the sides. He hummed a tune Mikey recognized but didn’t know the name of. It sounded like something from Don’s 80s Jams list. Finally, he slipped out one book skillfully, somehow managing to not topple the rest over. He handed the book with crumpled edges to Mikey.

Mikey dusted the front page off with the side of his hand. It was indeed a crossover, featuring a superhero from DC Mikey didn’t really know of. Judging by how the publisher was actually DC and its superhero took up most of the space on the cover, Jupiter Jim was nothing but a minor background character. That thought alone made Mikey reluctant to buy the book.

But Leo would know this superhero, and chastise Mikey for not knowing. The thought tugged on his lips, making him smile. He didn’t want to buy this comic for himself, but… Leo would love it.

“I’ll buy it,” said Mikey, smiling at the older man. His smile was replied with a warm one.

“Then I’ll pack it up for you.” Mr. Luther gently took the book and returned to his desk. Mikey decided to check on his brother for the time being. He knew Mr. Luther liked to wrap up the books as carefully as he could, especially on rainy days like this.

Donnie was sitting cross-legged with a book in his lap, his hands covered with latex gloves. He hated the sensory feeling he got after touching old, dusty books all day. This was a sight Mikey was used to. However, he was at a section completely unrelated to Astronomy. Unusual. The shelves stacked with contemporary novels generally didn’t interest him that much. Mikey scowled in confusion as he stopped next to his brother.

Donnie lifted the book in his hands. It was open, read almost to the midway. The pages looked… odd to Mikey. Donnie looked up at him with a grin on his face.

“Did you know people wrapped their handwritten ‘books’ with actual book covers and sold them to shops like these? I’ve heard of that before, but never encountered one.”

“Wow!” That actually sounded fun, and a great idea for a prank. Maybe Mikey would write a supernatural ‘journal’ with a ‘treasure map’ in it, and hide it in the shop one day. He pointed at the book with a jerk of his chin. “What’s it about?”

Donnie shrugged. “Best ways to commit tax fraud.”

“Oh,” Mikey said, slow. “You are not planning to buy it, are you?”

“Pssh, of course not,” said Donnie, laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. “This is, like, from the 80s. The tips are way out of date, they wouldn’t work.”

“Okay, but why do you know that.”

Donnie waved his hand dismissively as he closed the book. The title said “Poems of Death and Grieving”. Mikey stared. The lines “He went away from me” and “There is nothing more to say” rang loud in his ears.

“Mikey?”

Donnie’s voice pulled him out of his dazed state. The worry lines of his brother’s face had creased deeper under the warm light.

“Oh, sorry,” Mikey said, with a chuckle. He waved a hand as if to apologize. “Um. Are you ready to leave?”

Donnie made a noncommittal noise. He had three books in his hold, not counting the Tax Fraud. One of them had a long title, as expected of the usual books Donnie tented to buy— thick, academic books with oddly specific areas of research. The other one seemed to be an old issue of a technology magazine, featuring an aquatic research robot on its cover. The third one, however, was a purple book with two children drawn on its cover. They seemed startled from the beam of light hit the ground in front of them. The title said “Nick and Tesla's Solar-Powered Showdown” in big, bold letters.

Mikey remembered the book very well: it was a part of Donnie’s favorite book series as he grew up. Donnie claimed it was because the book was about science and making experiments, but Mikey knew it wasn’t just that. He actually bothered reading the first book on Donnie’s recommendation— and knew the two main characters were twins. There was no way Donnie didn’t find the twins’ interactions close to his own with Leo. If Leo gave in to Donnie’s insistence on reading, he too would know about it— But perhaps it’s better this way, thought Mikey. Leo would definitely bother Donnie about it, hiding his sappiness behind the curtain of mockery.

Donnie hugged those three books close. “I thought you had a limit of two books,” said Mikey, confused. Donnie’s pocket money was barely enough for two. That, and the bookcase he and Leo shared way too overloaded. There could only be so many books on the floor before Splinter snapped.

“I know, I know,” Donnie said, sorrowful. “I’ll make a decision, I just… Argh, I want all of these!” He looked down at the books in his hold with a pout. “I can’t decide!”

“Don’t you already have that?” Mikey asked, pointing at the kids’ book. Donnie nodded.

“I do, but this one is signed. Do you remember the book fair we were supposed to go, but I couldn’t because I had a cold?”

“You mean the one when I was in 5th grade?”

“Yes. The authors had a signing day at the fair— and I regretted missing it ever since.”

“Aww,” Mikey cooed in sympathy. “Alright then. I’ll buy it for you!”

Donnie’s eyes lit up, but then he visibly deflated. “Aren’t you going to buy that comic book?”

Ah. So he was eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Yes,” Mikey nodded wisely. “And I’ll buy your signed nerd book as well!”

“Why?” Donnie eyed him carefully. “It isn’t just about money, Mikey— I have a book limit because we don’t have enough space in my room.”

“But we have plenty of space in mine!” It was true. Mikey’s never been much of a reader, except the comics, and they didn’t take up much space in the tall bookcase he had in his room. “You can hide it there if you want,” Mikey coaxed. “Dad won’t notice, and I don’t mind.”

That seemed to convince Donnie. He smiled brightly as he hugged all the books in his hold closer. “Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, boisterous. “Lead the way, dear brother!”

***

Splinter, upon Mikey’s absence, must’ve decided to prepare breakfast— because the house smelt of miso soup. Which was great, because Mikey was tired from the trip to the farmer’s market, and just the thought of deciding on what to make for breakfast was daunting. So after he shed off his soaked coat and boots, he popped his head into the kitchen with a grin.

Splinter smiled at him as he poured a ladle full of soup into a bowl. He passed it to Raph, who was preparing the table. Mikey dropped the bags in front of the fridge and went to hug his dad. The old man chuckled as he hugged him back with his free arm.

“How was the trip, Orange?”

“Ah, the usual,” he said, cheery. This time he took the bowl full of soup and placed it onto the table. “It’s good that we went early, though! The rain is getting crazier.”

“Oh, is that so?” Splinter glanced at Raph. “Did you tell Blue to come back?” Raph immediately hummed in yes.

Mikey scowled as he put the remainder of the money on the countertop. “Why,” he said, “where is he?”

“He decided to go running around the block ‘til you guys came,” answered Raph, easy. “He wanted to go to the gym, but I talked him out of it.”

Good . It was good. Because going to the gym would mean missing the breakfast, which was, to Mikey, undoubtedly the most important part of their day. The twins had a tendency to skip breakfast, so Mikey took upon the responsibility to wake up early every day just to make sure they ate. And on the weekends, the breakfasts were even more significant, because they got to eat together unbothered by the bus they were about to miss or being late to somewhere. Family time.

At some point, the front door opened, momentarily letting in the sound of the pouring rain. By the time that happened, Donnie had already changed out of his clothes into more comfortable ones and made his way to the dining table. Leo came directly into the kitchen, completely soaked. He definitely hadn’t worn a coat.

Raph looked furious (no doubt that he had told Leo to wear a coat, but he didn’t listen) but Splinter simply grabbed a hand towel and threw it onto Leo’s head. Donnie made a face as he saw Leo wipe his face with it, cringing at the sight of wet hair sticking to his skin.

“You tell me to cover my head to not get sinusitis. Absolute hypocrisy.”

“Gotta protect that big brain of yours, Dontron,” Leo sang as he helped himself to a glass of tap water. He tried to say something else as he drank, but almost choke onto it. Raph hovered around him as he coughed, his forehead creased with worry. Don’s lip was quirked at one side, amused.

Mikey, not quite a fan of the tension, skipped around the table and held a package out to Leo. After Leo composed himself, he noticed the offered gift, lifting a questioning brow to Mikey. Mikey only nudged him to open it, not explaining anything.

“Don’s not using you to give me another bomb, is he?” Leo joked.

“Scoff. Wait for your birthday,” Donnie retorted.

Raph and Splinter exchanged confused glances as Mikey giggled. The sound of rustling wrapping paper filled the room and finally, Leo managed to rip his gift open. The knit of his brows eased and was replaced with bubbly joy.

“Man, I’ve been searching for this!” He lifted the comic book as it was a trophy and looked at Mikey with a grin. A real, genuine one this time— not a confident, plastered on one. “How did you know?”

Well, Mikey didn’t know, so he naturally said, “I can read minds, Leo. Didn’t you know?”

Leo leapt onto him and hugged him so tight, just like how Mikey liked it. Even though he was wet and smelt a little, he returned the bone crushing hug. Splinter gave an affectionate huff as he put a hand on Leo’s shoulder.

“Go get changed, Blue,” he said, soft yet solid. “The eggs should be boiled any minute.”

The rest sat on their designated chairs and the silence was only disturbed by the sounds of silverware. Mikey loved miso soup. Not just because his dad was an absolute master at making it, because it felt like a hug from the inside. The perfect soup for a chilly, rainy day when the skies were gray.

At one point, Leo returned, with significantly drier hair this time. By then the rest were mostly done with their soup, already getting chatty. Donnie complained about someone called Ethel Crabtree, whom he had a one-sided rivalry with (“She thinks she’s sooo good at growing pumpkins! Just wait until I infiltrate The United States Department of Agriculture!”). Raph informed them that April would be coming this afternoon, stern about having a movie marathon. Leo came to the “surprising realization” that his favorite botanist turned out to be his twin’s arch nemesis. Splinter threw a napkin on Donnie’s way as he mauled Leo. Mikey watched his family lovingly, not contributing much to the conversation. He loved seeing them happy. He loved seeing them safe.

Leo was the one on dishes duty— alone, despite his pleads to Donnie for help. Don disappeared, announcing that he’d be in his lab. Raph (quite mysteriously) went to his room, mumbling about having something to do. Mikey, despite having nothing to do, went to his own room as well. He wasn’t feeling like watching reality shows with his dad.

His room was eerie with no laundry on the floor. But Mikey liked to look at everything as an opportunity, and decided that it was a great time to vacuum the floor. His room was in dire need of a deep cleaning session, anyway. The rug on the floor, especially— Mikey remembered its original color being way lighter.

So he went to search for the vacuum cleaner, stopping by Raph’s door on the way. He knocked on the already ajar door, coming in with a greeting. Raph was usually ecstatic to see his brothers visiting his room, but not this time— because he had something in his hold, and he scrambled to hide it from Mikey’s view. Mikey hadn’t seen whatever it was, but he was left dumbfounded.

“That wasn’t a cat, was it?” Mikey asked loudly, in true annoying younger brother fashion. “You know dad doesn’t want any cats in the house!”

“I— Raph wasn’t, argh! Mikey, shut the door!” Raph scream-whispered at him, which was another red flag. Mikey raised an eyebrow but complied.

“But seriously, what is it?” Mikey stood on his toes in hopes to be able to see it. “If you want to keep it a secret, I won’t tell anyone, I swear!”

“You are the worst when it comes to keepin’ secrets,” Raph replied, dryly. “But fine. I was making a lobster for Don.”

“A lobs— oh! A lobster!” Mikey recalled the sorrowful complaints of Donnie from yesterday’s dinner. Raph shushed him to be quiet, then held the crochet hook and some red yarn, with a shape not quite a lobster yet. Mikey pursed his lips. “But why hide it like that?”

“I thought you were Don!”

“Ah. Yeah, that makes sense.” Mikey looked at his huge older brother, who was filled with love and care to the brim. “That’s so cool, man,” he said, genuine. “Hope it goes well!”

“Thanks.” Raph seemed calmer after the praise. But then he looked at Mikey with a scowl. “Uh, why were you here, again?”

“Why?” Mikey stood there for a second, his mind blank. Then some neurons linked in his brain and he perked up. “Oh, I was gonna ask where the vacuum cleaner was!”

Raph lifted an eyebrow at that, which was… fair. Mikey wasn’t particularly the cleanest member of the household— except the kitchen.

“It should be in the basement,” Raph said, after a minute of silence. “Don took it a couple of days ago. Said he needed it.”

Mikey involuntarily mumbled an “Oh no.” and Raph nodded in agreement. Dee taking a household appliance usually resulted in an “upgrade”, which was a double-edged sword. Its end could be like their old microwave, which had started to freeze the food put into it instead of heating it— or their porch light, which had gotten a monition from OSHA for “being too bright”. Mikey didn’t know which one he preferred.

He made his way to the basement, which was something he wasn’t unused to doing. Despite the claims (of just Leo, really), the place wasn't riddled with booby traps. However, like a true mad scientist, Donnie spent his evenings here more often than not— so it was typically Mikey who brought him snacks.

He knocked and yelled “I’m coming!” because the odds of Donnie listening to something was quite high. He was proved right by the leaking bass out of his brother's bulky headphones. Mikey flicked the overhead lights on and off, gathering Donnie’s attention from the project he was hunched over.

Donnie, used to the drill, paused the music with a click on the side of his headphones. The thick, drawn on eyebrows were raised in anticipation.

“Can I get the vacuum cleaner?” Mikey asked, voice still louder than normal— Donnie hadn't removed the headphones, after all.

“Oh. Sure.” Donnie went to the corner of the room, next to his chemical cabinet (which had real chemicals like hydrogen peroxide and hydrochloric acid in industrial-sized bottles, for some reason) and pulled out the —thankfully recognizable— machine. Nevertheless, Mikey eyed it carefully. Donnie scowled, pulling down the headphones. “What?”

“It doesn't spew out lasers or anything, right?”

Donnie rolled his eyes, his expression a perfect mimic of the Atomic Lass’. “How many times do I have to tell you that lasers aren't actually that dangerous? Even if I got my hands onto some yttrium aluminum garnet to make a laser gun, it wouldn't evaporate you or anything.”

“So it does?” Mikey asked, with a shriek.

“No!” Donnie replied, exasperated. “I just used it to vacuum the dust as I drilled a piece of wood. It's fine.”

“Oh, thank God.” With an actual sigh of relief, Mikey fetched the machine. As he turned his back to leave, he heard Donnie clean his throat— which meant that Donnie wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. Mikey just needed to give him a little push. “Yeah?”

“I came to the realization that I forgot to thank you,” said Donnie, in his awkward monotone. He wrung his hands together, an obvious nervous stim. “For the book. So… thank you, Michael.”

“The book? Oh, the book!” To be honest, Mikey himself had forgotten that. “Don't mention it, bro. I'm glad you liked it.”

“I'm also sorry that you had to spend your allowance on that,” Donnie added, carefully.

“Eh, it's fine,” Mikey said, shrugging. “It wasn't like I wanted to buy something for myself, anyway.”

Donnie looked at him with a peculiar look in his eyes, not quite readable. If Leo was here, he would probably understand him with a simple glance. Unfortunately, even though Mikey had several personas with PhDs under his sleeve, he was no twin. He decided on smiling awkwardly as Donnie stared at him down.

“Very well, then,” said Donnie, breaking the silence. “Don't forget to close the door behind yourself, please.”

“I won't! And don't you forget that April's coming!”

It sounded like a threat. Judging by Donnie’s tensed figure, he took it as one.

***

April was here as promised, and she was complaining about someone called Janet as Raph listened while nodding profusely.

“I just don't get it!” April threw her hands into the air, making some popcorn in her bowl jump and scatter. The movie they were supposed to be watching was frozen on the TV. “She likes Warren Stone as much as I do— so why complain, am I right?”

Leo raised his hands in interjection. “OK, first off,” he said, with a scowl, “who is this Warren guy?”

“You know, the news anchor? The one with the glorious, voluminous hair?”

“Pfft, can't be more glorious than young Splinter’s. Have you ever seen the photos?”

“I'd really rather not,” April said, dryly.

“No no, he actually was very handsome,” said Raph, backing Leo up. April rolled her eyes.

“I look the most like him!” Mikey chimed in, like a liar.

Leo gasped in utter betrayal. “That's not true! I'm the only one who got his good looks.”

Raph lifted an eyebrow. “What about Dee?” he asked, pointing at the quiet identical twin at the side.

“Eh…” Leo made a gesture as if to say 50/50.  “It may have rubbed on him a little while we were in the womb.”

“You are disrespecting the scientists of the field of genetics,” mumbled Donnie, from the couch he was buried in. He was forced out of his lab, disgruntled about the interruption. “Apologize to Rosalind Franklin right now.”

“Feels like we're getting a bit off track here,” goaded Raph. “Why don't you go on, April?”

“Thank you,” the girl said, with a weary sigh. “Anyway, Stone has an 18 hours long online course for journalism and the club is down for collecting money to buy that. Janet, on the other hand, isn't— and I'm this close to throwing hands.”

“Wait wait wait,” Leo leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “What are the fans called?”

“Not related, Leo,” hissed, April. A clear warning to those who care.

“Is it Stoners?” he asked, giddy. “Oh my God, I hope it's Stoners.”

If April wasn't pissed off before, she definitely was now. “Stoneheads,” she said in a blood-curdling tone. Her eyes glinted with the intent of murder behind her glasses.

“If it's the money you lack, I'm sure we can find a fix to that,” Donnie said, his eyes not leaving his phone's screen. He was completely unfazed by the imminent death of his twin. “You want the course for the club itself, so actually the school has to pay for it from the budget reserved for club activities.”

“Yeah, but the council who decides on that must have a personal feud with Mr. Stone, so they claim that at least 10 members should sign the budget demand!”

“Nonsense,” said Donnie, with a wrinkle on his nose. “Purple Dragons has three members, and they eat up all the club budgets.” He would know, since he was in the Chess Club last year, and couldn’t get the money to buy a new chess set without missing pieces. That was also what prompted him to leave, resulting in the school not making into the national tournament with his absence. He had called it “justice being served”, Leo called it “Donnie’s super villain origin story”.

“Yeah, Kendra is very open about that.” April sighed, letting her head drop onto the pillows behind her. The TV screen had gone black. “The Journalism Club doesn't even have ten members without Janet!”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, Dee, ouch,” April agreed. “I'd ask you guys to join, but y’all already have enough on your plates.”

They really did. Raph was busy with his consistent gym schedule, and he was quite serious about the school work ever since he decided to aim for Columbia University. Leo never skipped basketball practice, and he was also serious about his grades, even though he preferred to pretend that he wasn't. Donnie didn't need to work that hard to get the top grades, but he had personal projects like coding and Botany, and to be honest, he's never been good at the things he wasn't interested in— even if he managed to make time for the Journalism Club, he would hate it. Or abuse his position to write whatever he wanted in the school's newspaper. Either way, someone could die.

Mikey himself was busy with the Art Club and gymnastics, not even counting the school work. He always seemed to be one step behind his peers when it came to understanding stuff, and he had to work twice (or sometimes thrice) as hard to do the same work. He definitely wouldn't be able to pull off the Journalism Club in the midst of all things. Not without coming to the breaking point, that is.

But April needed help. She looked at them with huge, tearful eyes with a wobbling lip. She sniffed as she looked down, pulling at his sweater's cuffs.

“I can join!” Mikey said, easily. The rest looked at him with varying degrees of surprise. 

“Really? You would, Mikey?” April jumped at her feet, her eyes widening in hope. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am!” His fingers fluttered in excitement, his chest filled with gratitude for being able to help. To be of use. “Do I, like, need to sign stuff?”

“Oh, yeah!” April typed something onto her phone, passing it to Mikey. The screen featured an online document with lots of free space for Mikey to fill.

As Mikey typed his student ID number and other necessary information, he could feel his brothers’ eyes on him. Especially Donnie’s: fierce and unwavering . However, Mikey didn’t ask why they stared at him like that. He was just happy to help his siblings while he still could.

***

“Now, you might be wondering how I ended up like this,” Mikey narrated to no one in particular. He was sprawled on his bed like a star fish. His limbs were leaden, unmoving.

He didn’t usually get like this— not anymore, at least. However, it didn’t mean Adderall completely erased his executive dysfunction. Sometimes he still found himself locked in his body, his gaze in one place, his thoughts running around in circles while he internally screamed, “Move. Move! Do something, move!”

Until five minutes ago, he was locked staring at his phone, scrolling but not absorbing. He was relieved by its shackles as his battery died, and his hand fell, the phone slipping from its grasp. Now he was stuck with the more entertaining option of watching his ceiling. At least it didn’t remind him of death with every part of it.

Mikey was slowly starting to hate the internet. But more so, his own brain.

He felt… betrayed? Yeah, that was the word— while his brain’s never been so good at cooperating, it’s never been this blatantly rebellious. If Mikey didn’t like a thought, he could shut it into a metaphorical drawer. In the past, at least. But now the drawer was nowhere in sight and the thoughts roared like a thunder, trapping him under a rubble.

It wasn’t just the fear, anymore. Mikey was still scared to death (hah!) of his brothers’ deaths, but now remembering that evoke anger in him as well. He quickly realized that the anger was stemming from jealousy. Death happened to everyone. It was the inevitable, everyone knew. Yet, nobody seemed to be living under the guillotine of fear. Nobody was sprawled on their beds, driving themselves insane over it.

Why can’t I stop? Why won’t the thoughts just shut up?

Mikey covered his face with one arm. His backpack was full of homework, and his phone would keep pinging with every article April had sent him about the Journalism Club.

Ah. The Journalism Club.

It was a spur of the moment decision, and not one he quite regretted. After all, seeing April bounce in joy until Mrs. O’Neil came to pick her up was a sight to see! But… Mikey was Busy. He really had a lot of things to do— and he didn’t even like journalism! He barely read, let alone write!

April had told him she would put him into the graphic design team, and he happily agreed. But now he felt the cold sweat of anxiety on his back, because he didn’t particularly care for the school’s newspaper. And he never did well on stuff he didn’t care about. Furthermore, he didn’t draw for anything other than fun— so this felt like a chore, more than anything. Especially now, when he was in a Bad Thought induced art block.

Man, I’m screwed.

Someone knocked on his door and he whined in response. It creaked open.

“Hey buddy,” Raph said, his voice sweet. “You getting ready for practice?”

“Hm?” Mikey slightly lifted his head, his brows furrowed. A moment later, it hit him: the gymnastics practice. The routine practice he did every Saturday. Because, well, he was going to be participating in the gymnastics meet held in California in a few weeks. And his coach had even gotten a sponsor for the trip’s fees and all.

At this moment, he should’ve scrambled off to his feet and fetch his bag to run out of the door. But.

He was stuck.

“You good?”

Mikey stared at the ceiling, his breath hitching. His trembling fist hit the bed, with a thump muffling against the sheets.

“Aww, Mike.” Raph walked up to him, his flip-flops flipping and flopping as he did so. “I can tell Dad to call your coach and tell him that you are not feeling well. Is it alright with ya’?”

Mikey couldn’t manage more than a whine. He nodded and ignored the sting at his eyes.

“I think I’ll prepare the dinner today,” Raph said, easy. The edge of the bed dipped as he sat down. “I was thinking of vegetable casserole. You guys bought a lot of good stuff today— Don was ecstatic. I passed by him talking to pepper a while ago.”

Mikey finally found a spark of energy within him. He rolled over and hugged his brother tight, his arms around his waist. Raph gave a coo as Mikey buried his nose in his brother’s waist. They stayed like that for a while. Mikey counted his breaths as the comforting silence enveloped them.

“You know,” Raph said, breaking the immersion with a hint of mischief, “we can go and bother the twins.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Raph crouched on the ground. Mikey looped his arms around Raph’s neck and settled onto his back. His older brother stood up with ease, thanks to the years of practice he had. They passed by Splinter having a nap with the TV’s light flashing on his face, and went up the stairs.

The door’s room was ajar, and Raph kicked it to open it a bit more. None of the twins acknowledged their presence as they were absorbed in their individual tasks. Donnie was currently occupying Leo’s bed, because Leo had a desk lamp that could be directed towards the bed as well. He was reading a book (the first book of the Nick and Tesla series, Mikey noted) in a pose that certainly couldn’t be comfortable.

Leo was on Donnie’s desk, a small ball in his huge gamer’s chair. One of his monitors played a basketball match that Leo was watching with intense focus. A moment later, Leo hit the space on the keyboard, making the video pause. He turned his chair towards Donnie and pointed at the screen.

“Donnie,” he exclaimed, “zoom and enhance!”

“I told you many times that it’s not a thing, Leon,” groaned Donnie. “And even if it was, I wouldn’t do it. I’m busy.”

“Bold words from the guy who is invading my bed.”

The room’s silence shook with the weight of Donnie’s raised eyebrows.

“Ugh, fine.” Leo dropped his head onto the desk, somewhere near the keyboard. “I’ll just try to learn things by osmosis, then.”

“Perhaps you meant to say ‘diffusion’?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You sure are free to beg.”

Raph cleared his throat with a loud cough, gathering the twins’ attention to himself. “Come down to the kitchen, you two,” he said, with the authority of being the eldest sibling gave him. “We’ll make dinner.”

Leo looked at Raph with raised eyebrows, and then at Mikey— back and forth. He must’ve noticed the way how dead Mikey looked inside, so he didn’t question the change in the schedule, but he did scoff.

“I’m studying right here!” he said, pointing at the monitor. One of the players were frozen in air, with the ball in his hands. It seemed like he was about to score. “Isn’t that what you guys always tell me? ‘Study and don’t slack off’?” His voice at the end was gruff, possibly mimicking Raph.

To that, Raph deflated. “Well, yes , but…”

“Take Donnie, he loves cooking.”

“I’m sorry? No, I don’t!” Donnie rose from the bed with a hand on his chest. “I always complain about how I hate the tomato juice leaks when I’m chopping them, or how the pepper seeds stick to my skin and ugh— I just hate it!” He flapped a hand as if he tried to get rid of the imaginary pepper seeds on his fingers. “You do it, Nardo! What is your excuse?”

“Winning the basketball championship, maybe?” Leo bit back. “I know you are shit at basketball, but at least let me be good at it-”

“Oh, now we are talking about our abilities? Let me get my alphabetical list of the stuff you suck-”

“Enough!”

Mikey meant to say it a lot louder than he did, but somehow his voice cut their argument like a knife anyway. All three of his brothers looked at him, stunned. Mikey jumped off of Raph’s back and went downstairs.

He didn’t know what was up, but everyone seemed quite tense these days. He simply didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Mikey didn’t like how they argued the moment the status quo changed. Despite feeling like he had a boulder sitting inside his brain, he would very much prefer to cook than to deal with… whatever that was. He loved his brothers. He wanted them to be happy – not leap on each other’s throat at every given chance.

Mikey angrily pulled out the vegetables from the fridge, ignoring the tears stinging at his eyes. Some tomatoes rolled out of the bag, not being able to resist the velocity he pulled them with. As he picked some onions from the basket, he realized his brothers made their way to the kitchen quietly.

Donnie washed the vegetables. Leo and Raph did the slicing and dicing. Mikey cried as he chopped the onions.

None of them asked Mikey why he shed tears — because duh, the onions— but they were also kind enough to not point out his quiet sobs.

Chapter Text

After surviving the Journalism Club’s meeting (which was possibly the most unnerving experience Mikey’s ever been a part of, since it consisted of a bunch of people chanting “WARREN STONE! WARREN STONE!” right after a debate over which font to use for headlines), he went to the cafeteria. He didn’t have much time until the next lesson would start, but he wasn’t just going to abandon lunch! Food and providing glucose for his brain was important. Even Donnie would vouch for it.

As he filled his tray, he looked around the almost empty cafeteria. If he saw his friends, he would join them— he felt that they hadn’t spent enough time together lately. However, none was there, which was what he expected. The cafeteria wasn’t exactly the place you’d want to spend the entirety of your lunch break. Going out and breathing in the dirty New York air was, by far, the better option.

Just when he was about to take a random seat, he saw a familiar bush of hair. Hasan. He was sitting all by himself in an empty corner with a sandwich in his hands. That wasn’t like him, because Hasan was friends with a lot of people— so he’d usually be seen amongst a big group of teenagers.

He warily made his way towards him. Hasan flinched as he approached, but then motioned him to sit. Mikey gave a grateful smile as he set down his tray.

He stuffed a spoon of peas into his mouth as he eyed his friend. Hasan was still staring at the tuna sandwich in his hand, without making any move to actually eat it. Mikey gulped down his bite and offered the apple on his own share.

“Tuna isn’t very appealing when you have no appetite, right?” He handed the fruit to his friend’s reluctant hand. He gave an easy smile. “I don’t think I’ll have time to finish all of this, so you might as well help me.”

Hasan eyed the apple in his hand and smiled back. It was a ghost of his actual smile, but a win was a win. “Thanks.”

Mikey shrugged in response and helped himself another spoon of beans. He thought that they’ve been eating lots of veggies for the last few days, so maybe he could cook some protein based dinner today? Maybe he should stop by the convenience store to get some chicken? Or he could try that Turkish poached egg recipe he saw recently— man, that seemed de-li-cious. What was it, “Chill-birre”? He was sure there was a “ch” sound, at least. But, ah, Donnie might get fussy about it… He’s not fond of leaky stuff.

It’s really hard to make everyone happy. And that’s what I’m going for these days, so… Probably, chicken katsudon is the better option. It was Donnie’s fav. And Mikey made souffle for Raph, after all— so tomorrow would be Leo’s turn. And maybe he’d invite April to dinner after that, and make her favorite. Yeah, that’s good.

“You don’t look so good.” Hasan snapped Mikey out of his thoughts by pointing out the obvious. “Have you been sleeping well?”

Mikey gave a nervous chuckle and set down his spoon. “Uuuh.” he said, helpfully. He scratched the back of his neck— his sweater felt too tight all of a sudden. “Hah, um... I guess not?”

“Me neither.” It was Hasan’s turn to shrug this time. He took a bite from the apple and wiped the juice dribbled down his chin.

“But you have a reason!” Mikey replied, immediately. Suddenly he felt the fire of shame creeping at his neck. He had spoken without thinking. Reminding his friend of his dead brother during lunch? What kind of friend was he? He covered his burning face with his hands, wanting to disappear. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Hasan said, and it actually sounded like he meant it. Mikey glanced at him between his fingers, and Hasan nodded seriously. “Really,” he explained. “Something big happened in my life, and it’s on my mind all the time, but everyone else is acting like it didn’t happen. But it did. And it hurts.”

“Ah.” Mikey… had never considered this outcome— that someone might want to acknowledge the death of his sibling instead of fruitlessly trying to ignore it like he did. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes.” Hasan placed down the half-eaten apple next to his sandwich. “But I don’t know how, or to whom. All of my friends act like I’m fragile and will break at the mere mention of death. Also, the school counselor has been bothering me ever since, but I hate that option.”

That, Mikey understood. He barely got the accommodations for his ADHD in this school, and he needed the approval from the school counselor or something— and it had been a nightmare to get. She was almost never in her office, terrible at her job (Mikey remembered the compulsory sessions Donnie had with her because of his ASD diagnosis, and how he seethed with rage each time she entered his peripheral vision afterward) and overall not someone who was grieving would want to talk to.

He must’ve grimaced, because Hasan laughed as if to say, “You get it.” Then he sighed with a faraway gaze. “I find myself going back to our chat, and realize halfway through writing a text that it will never be marked ‘read’.”

The sentence felt like a physical slap on the face, and Mikey couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Ow.”

“Yeah.” Hasan picked at the loose thread dangling from his sleeve. “We used to share a bunk bed, and now I won’t have anyone to bother for getting to sleep at the top. I won’t have anyone who’ll eat the carrots in my food for me. I won’t have to argue about how he took my skateboard without permission, and my mom won’t reprimand me for not wanting to share my stuff.” Tears pooled in his eyes but didn’t spill. Mikey, on the other hand, was already at the nose-blowing stage. “I always thought about how we would part our ways, but it was never like this. It was a bittersweet moment during a wedding in my dreams.” His voice had cracked in the end. “This is just bitter.”

“How do you handle this?” This was the question that echoed in Mikey’s mind ever since he heard the news. He crumpled the napkin in his fist and looked at his friend’s red rimmed eyes. “I— I thought about it. About what would happen if one of my brothers died, and... Hasan. I don’t understand.”

Hasan gave a wet chuckle and finally snapped the loose thread on his sleeve. “I’m relieved, because I believe that he'll be in heaven, so I’m not sad for him. I’m just sad for me. For being here alone.”

“Will you ever be not sad?”

“I don’t think so?” His friend scratched his chin, thoughtful. “I mean, maybe a day will come that I will look back fondly to the memories we made together. But I don’t think his place will ever be filled. He was my brother, after all.”

“Yeah.” Mikey took his friend’s hand a gave a squeeze. He sniffed and gave a wobbly smile. “He was.”

***

They returned home without Leo that day, because he stayed behind for basketball practice. This wasn’t unusual— every day of the week except Thursdays, he stayed after school for the practice. But today, Donnie lingered a few seconds longer than usual after his twin’s retreating back, clearly wanting to say something but refusing to— or simply not being able to.

Surely this was no big deal. Twins always had scuffles between them, and resolved most of them without intervention. Although it was weird for them to be silent like this, Mikey didn’t think he needed to worry too much. And quite frankly, he had enough on his mind, and one more worry would lead him to his downfall.

He parted ways with his brothers a stop earlier to go to the convenience store. Usually he would idle around, look at things’ prices and be baffled at the increased numbers— but this time he quickly grabbed the chicken breasts and made his way to the counter. Not only was the lack of sleep getting to him, but he also had a ton of school work to do— and the commissions by the Journalism Club. Mikey never thought there would be a day he’d have to draw a caricature version of the school principal, but… so is life.

At the last minute, he grabbed some apple juice for Donnie (he’d been in the lab for days, and probably forgot to restock it) and exited the store. He purposefully tipped his head down as he entered their house's garden. “There is nothing more to say” was still a fresh wound for him, and his mind helpfully attached the memory to the sight of his home with the orange evening light.

Mikey didn't bother with digging up his keys and hit the doorbell. Heavy footsteps with large strides echoed behind the door, and Raph welcomed him in. His big brother took the bags and made his way to the kitchen.

“Aw, chicken!” Raph unloaded the groceries one by one. “You are the best, Mike!”

Mikey lit up at the sight of the smile of his brother. It wasn't hard to make Raph happy, but each smile still felt like a reward.

“You know me, baby!” Mikey waltzed around the table and took out some eggs out of the fridge. Leo would be home soon, so it was better to start preparing things now. “Is there anything special you want?”

“Like, with the chicken?”

“Ah, no. In general. For tomorrow's dinner, ya know?”

“Ooh!” Raph seriously pondered for a moment. He must’ve thought of something, because suddenly his eyes shone brightly. “You know,” he said, “I've been craving those veggie dumplings you made once. The ones Donnie almost choked on, remember?”

“I'm delighted to know I enriched your memories with my suffering,” Donnie said dryly, as he entered the kitchen. He noticed the new apple juice boxes on the counter top, and he stared at them blankly for a moment before putting them away. He ripped a few paper towels with more force than necessary. “It was because Leo made me laugh,” he added, “I should remind you.”

Mikey giggled. “Then it's a good memory for you as well, Dee!”

“Ah, yes. The Heimlich Maneuver. Truly the highlight of my life.” Without a beat, he retreated to his lab as quickly as he came. The other two weren't bothered, because this was Donnie. He liked having the last saying, even though it usually meant simply not letting the others speak.

Raph actually helped Mikey with preparing the dinner, and Mikey enjoyed the company. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with his family. The talk he had with Hasan gave an insight to how he would feel if he lost them— he would surely regret every second he didn't spend with them. On one hand, it seemed unhealthy (Mikey was not in the position to deny the fact he was Unwell), but on the other hand, it felt like what Mikey needed the most at the moment.

He grieved his brothers when they were right there. So why would he miss the chance if all he needed to do was to reach out?

The dinner was ready, but there was no Leo in sight. It’s not like him to be this late, Mikey thought, biting down on his lip. Should I call him?

Before he spiraled down even further in his thoughts, the front door opened. Mikey sprinted to the door, smiling at Leo— but his smile grew even larger when he noticed his dad coming in right after.

“Pops picked me up,” Leo explained, as he slid his bag off of his shoulders. “Man, I'm starving. Is this chicken that I smell?”

“Spot on,” Mikey replied, giddy with excitement. It felt like ages since they had dinner with Splinter. “Katsudon, actually.”

“Hm. My favorite.” Donnie appeared behind Mikey, startling him. He must’ve gained the uncanny ability to be as silent as a ghost— or perhaps it was Mikey, being more absent-minded than usual.

The purple twin stared at Mikey as if he wanted to say something, but then turned his head away. He whipped out his phone from his pocket and almost walked into a wall, typing something vehemently. Again, typical for Donnie. He always had epiphanies at unexpected moments, then disappeared a moment after to write them down.

“What is up with that guy?” Leo grumbled under his breath. He looked at his twin’s retreating back with furrowed brows, as if he was staring at an enigma. To Leo, Donnie was never an enigma. Leo was the one who would point out what was bothering Donnie when he couldn't speak from the sensory overwhelm when they were young. He was the one who would easily speak out for his twin as Donnie felt ashamed for needing things. He was the one who often figured out when Donnie was sick, even before he himself realized it.

Man, should I be worried?

Leo slapped Mikey on the back, bringing his consciousness back to the world. “I'll take a shower,” he said— rightfully so. He stank. “See you at dinner, chef.”

***

The dinner was… awkward, much to Mikey’s dismay.

For some reason, Donnie didn’t talk much— even after Raph nudged him to speak about his latest project. It didn’t seem like his mind was elsewhere, either: he seemed attentive, with his eyes tracking the conversations instead of fixating on a spot on the wall.

Normally, Leo would leap at the chance to get the spotlight and talk about whatever regular thing happened at school and exaggerate it to the point of absurdity. But he was silent instead, staring at his propped up phone against Raph's bowl— which was playing an amateurishly recorded basketball match. When asked, he explained that he had found a YouTube channel with the videos of almost every basketball match between the schools around their area.

“I'm watching one of the schools we will be up against next,” he had explained, not taking his eyes away from the screen. Then he paused it and took down some notes in a little notebook he took out of his pocket. Mikey saw the page from the corner of his eye, but he could see that there was an impressive amount of analysis on each player's style.

Splinter seemed like he wanted to tell Leo to put away his phone and not play with his food (which was something Mikey came this close to doing, because he could tolerate a phone on the table but disrespecting his art was unacceptable) but decided against it. 

Instead, he resorted to telling them about a new student of his, and successfully made them all laugh in varying degrees of intensity. Raph found the story of a twelve-year-old getting punched in the face by a punching bag pretty hilarious, while Leo thought it was barely worthy of an amused exhale.

After dinner, the others retreated to their respective rooms, except for Splinter, who took his place on the couch. Mikey did the dishes this time, and briefly considered accepting Donnie’s offer of building a dishwasher. Then he shook his head, thinking of the very possible end result— which was an industrial level dishwasher with the power to melt their silverware.

As soon as he was done, Mikey ran to his room and dug out his graphic tablet. His math homework due tomorrow could wait. April's commissions for the school's newspaper couldn't.

A few minutes onto drawing, he quickly realized that this wasn't fun at all. He already had the inkling of this, sure— but this was another level of boredom. He felt like a claw dug into his chest and squeezed his lungs, and he found himself swinging his legs with the hopes of getting a twinge of stimuli. His chair creaked under the violent shakes the motion caused. Mikey persevered.

It felt like learning to draw all over again, but he managed to finish some of the illustrations. Just when he thought he deserved a break and did some easy stretches, he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in!” he shouted, and smiled at Donnie when he came in. Unfortunately, Mikey was in a rather interesting position— that was to say that the top of his head was on the ground, and he was looking out from between his splayed out legs on both sides, while his body was propped up by his elbows on the floor.

Donnie's expression morphed into something like horror, and he shook his head in disbelief. “I'm afraid you'll break your neck one day, Michael.”

Mikey smiled with all the charm of being upside-down. “I'm a pro, Dee,” he said, “Trust me a little! What's up?”

Donnie blinked fast, as if to recalibrate. “Ah,” he said easily (too easily), “I had a favor to ask.”

“Oh, really?” Mikey tumbled over and came to a sitting position with perfectly split legs. He excitedly gestured for Donnie to go on. Donnie didn't always ask for favors— at least, not easily. He had multiple layers of pride and carefully cultivated Bad Boy Persona, so when he caved in and asked for help, Mikey couldn't help but feel like a person who was let to pet by a cat which never allowed anyone near. Honored.

“I'm designing a robot on Blender, an aquatic one, perhaps you heard me mention it… But I can't find the image file of the Genius Built's logo. I need it in,” he checked his watch, “32 minutes.”

“Why so specific?”

“That's confidential.”

“Hm.” The truth was, Mikey wasn't thrilled to hear that Donnie lost the file (the image Mikey drew over and over again until it became its best version) because it had happened before. At least three times. Donnie always insisted on getting the file directly out of Mikey’s computer to his own hard disk, and the end result was the poor file being drowned amongst many others.

Mikey remembered that the last time, he brought out Dr. Delicate Touch to give Donnie the news: that if he lost the file one more time, Donnie would have to buy his own graphic tablet and design his own logo. Because Mikey had a toaster for a computer, and he had to delete the things he didn't need in order for it to function, which meant he had to draw the logo for Donnie at least three times.

He wanted to get angry, he really did, but. Was it worth it?

The image of Hasan flashed in front of his eyes, and his words full of regret rang loud in Mikey’s ears. Why hurt your brother when you can simply draw the logo again? Is it worth it to hurt him over a simple thing like this? And Mikey became somewhat of a pro at drawing the logo, so it wouldn't take much of an effort anyway.

He smiled easily at his brother as he made his way to his desk. “Alright,” he said, chipper. “It should be ready in, like, twenty minutes. That's OK with you, right? Or do I need to be quicker?”

“What do you mean if that's OK with me?” Donnie was looking at Mikey with furrowed brows. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He seemed pained, somehow. “Didn't you threaten to find my hard-disk and put it under the lawnmower if I lost the file again? With Dr. Delicate Touch? Remember?”

“Uh,” Mikey chuckled, “I don't remember that threat. Sorry!”

“Why are you apologizing? Why aren't you mad that I lost the file again?”

“It’s OK, Dee. Everyone loses stuff!”

“Yeah, but I lost it four times, Mikey!” Now he looked borderline angry. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemingly couldn't find the words, so he closed it again. He shook his head, dejected. “Don't bother. With drawing it, I mean. I think I remember which folder I put it in now.”

“Oh.” Mikey stared at the empty digital canvas in front of him. Then he looked at Donnie, putting on a bright smile. “That's great! Now you won't have to worry about the time limit.”

“Yeah. I won't,” Donnie spat out. He exhaled shakily and stormed out of the room.

***

Soft snores of Raph, and not-so-soft snores of Dad echoed in the hallway. Mikey blamed them for not being able to sleep, but even he didn't believe in this lie. His mind was a pool of thoughts and currently, there was a tsunami in there.

The bedsheets tangled on his legs, and Mikey kicked them away. He gave up and left his room, giving in to the voice at the back of his head— which was, “You don't hear Leo and Donnie snoring. You know what this could mean, right?”

Yeah, Mikey thought bitterly, it means they have unclogged noses. But he felt like he didn't have the control anymore, and even though he felt insane, he also felt scared. He felt scared like he used to as a child, shaking with the thought of the monster inside his wardrobe. The frightening possibility of it emerging anytime, the creeping dread.

He knew now that there was no monster. Instead, there was something way scarier.

Mikey climbed the stairs up to the attic, wincing each time the wood creaked under his weight. He pushed open the door, careful not to make too much noise, and entered the room with the surprisingly fresh air. Donnie insisted on opening the windows for a while before they went to sleep, so it wouldn't be stuffy.

To the left, he could hear Donnie’s soft breathing, almost muffled fully by his comforter. The room was dark, so he couldn't see anything, but Mikey didn't need to see to know Leo was awake.

A weary sigh came from Mikey's right, and the bed creaked in relief with the weight being lifted. Leo quietly padded over the rug to Mikey and threw his arm around his shoulder. The two brothers stuck close, squeezing their way through the narrow stairwell. They reached to the kitchen while being surrounded by the midnight's silence.

Leo took out two cups, and two bags of chamomile tea from his Special Insomnia Stash. Whether they actually worked or not was a mystery, but Leo liked reassuring them with the fact that he tried.

As they waited for the water to boil, Leo leaned his back to the counter, arms crossed. “You look like shit, Miguel,” he said, in earnest. It was almost 1 a.m., and nobody had time for the dishonest pleasantries. “I know a face that didn't sleep for the past few days when I see one. What's up?”

Mikey shrugged. “Just thinkin’,” he said, as honest as he could. “How about you?”

Leo didn't look impressed by the deflection, but didn't press. “The usual,” he said, mirroring the shrug, “I have no idea.” He carefully eyed Mikey’s frame. “Dee’s been awfully quiet after he talked to you this evening.”

“I think he’s just busy,” Mikey mumbled, with his throat clicking. Frankly, he had no clue as to why Donnie acted the way he did, and was baffled by that. Because Donnie valued direct communication more than anyone in their family, and even if he refused to say what was up and Leo didn’t know what the problem was either, Mikey would definitely be left in the dark.

They sat in silence until the kettle sizzled. Leo filled the cups, and motioned Mikey to follow him into the living room. He grabbed the couch blanket and threw it on both of them. The two brothers snuggled close and sipped at their tea while Leo showed Mikey random videos.

After the tea ran out, and Mikey’s eyelids grew heavy, Leo turned off his phone. He hugged Mikey tight as he fully cocooned his brother with his own share of the blanket.

Mikey breathed in his brother's ocean-breeze shampoo. His breath hitched, and the realization of how privileged he was weighed heavy on his heart.

He vaguely remembered being carried to his own bed. He clearly remembered the first nice dream he had in the past week.