Chapter Text
Something was going on and Mikey wasn’t sure what. When he broke something, he got ignored. When he was quiet, someone would come talk to him. He didn’t understand. When had it changed? Why had it changed? They were supposed to ignore him when he was quiet and hit when he was loud. He’d tried everything. He’d almost smashed the picture frame from Splinter’s shrine (that was the one time Leo had ‘discreetly’ intervened). He’d even tried sitting on Raph’s shell, but he’d acted like he wasn’t even there.
Mikey didn’t understand. He was being annoying, why weren’t they paying any attention? Had he finally pissed them off enough that they just- didn’t care anymore?
The last straw was when Donnie left the lab door unlocked and open . Not just that, either, he didn’t stop Mikey from touching anything (he felt bad for breaking his stuff and apologized after, but Donnie didn’t seem to notice besides muttering “all good” when he left).
Mikey sat on his bed and stared at the wall. He needed the hitting, the yelling, the burning glares that met his eyes and screamed ‘I know what you did and I see you.’
‘I see you.’
They didn’t see him anymore.
Mikey pushed himself further back on his bed until his shell was pressed right against the wall he shared with Raph.
Fine. If they wouldn’t correct him, he’d do it himself.
Bang!
Sharp pain shot through his skull and down his spine, leaving a burning feeling that wrapped around his head.
But that’s all it did. The aching burn was all it left. No ‘ what the hell is wrong with you?' or ‘I see you’ looks. Doing it to himself meant no one would glare or yell. It meant no familiar feeling of his brothers’ scales against his, grabbing and pinching and hitting.
He needed someone else to do it.
But no one else would.
He threw his head back in exasperation.
Bang!
Mikey hissed in pain and gripped the back of his head. He yanked his hand away from the tender skin and pouted. Well, better than nothing.
He threw his head back again but, instead of the wall, hit the gentle, three-fingered hand of his immediate older brother. “Mikey, stop,” Donnie ordered.
It was silent for a minute, unreadable glances going both ways. “Let me look at it.”
Donnie carefully moved his head around, calloused fingers gently rubbing at the sore spot. It was probably already bruising. He turned Mikey’s head so they were looking at each other, left hand hovering over his forehead. Mikey bumped his head up into it, hoping to get the message across. Donnie frowned.
“Please,” he begged, pressing his head into his big brother’s hand. Donnie shook his head. Mikey felt tears prick at his eyes. “Please, Donnie.”
Donnie pulled him into a hug. “No,” he whispered.
“ No.”