Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s power. 

It’s power, he tells himself. He knows it is.

The room sways. 

Still, he is nothing if not stubborn, and nothing if not the last stand, the last burst of energy before a fight is finished, and he knows this just as well. He is nothing if he doesn’t keep going. 

It’s normal, for him. It’s not a problem.

How are you supposed to contest a role that has been yours since birth?

-

Splinter is getting older. Leo acknowledges this just as he acknowledges the newest Space Heroes spin-off by pretending it doesn’t exist.

He is grateful for one thing, though. As Splinter’s youth leaves, so too do his observational skills. 

It’s odd, that the ninja master hasn’t heard the soft splashing of water coming from the bathroom just outside of his room yet. Leo wonders if he ignores it on purpose. Wonders if he passed that trait onto his sons.

Wonders if that means he needs to try harder. 

-

Donnie has never been as openly emotional as the rest of them, and Leo can sympathize with that, to an extent. His mask is looser than Leo’s  - reserved for medical emergencies and card games - but Leo knows he wears it more than he lets on. 

So it’s weird, when he lets it slip for just a moment when they find themselves in the kitchen late at night.

“Are you hungry?” It’s not a question. Donnie never asks questions, he’s too much of a stupid idiot genius to need others to answer before his mind can catch up, putting the puzzle pieces together before anyone else can even think of what to ask. Regardless, Leo hopes this particular puzzle box hasn’t quite made it onto a shelf in the library of his mind. He hopes this is just his little brother’s attempt at small talk.

He glances down at the tea he’s holding - more of a warmer for his shaky hands than a beverage - and smiles thinly.

“No.”

He doesn’t know if he was right to hope that night, if Donnie truly hadn’t managed to even think of the question in the first place, let alone put it together, or if he had just followed in the footsteps of his big brother (and father, apparently) and ignored it, but Leo can’t find it in himself to care. 

-

It’s power, he tells himself, watching as Mikey beats him in a spar as though through a daze. It’s power , he knows this, knows it just as well as he knows his role, his place in this hierarchy, as he knows Mikey deserves to win this, so it’s really not that bad.

Splinter’s glancing at him in his periphery, and he knows he knows he knows but he just can’t bring himself to say anything about it.

He doesn’t have to, as he’s tackled by Mikey. This time, it’s playful. This time, he doesn’t feel the need to scream as thousands of knives stab at his organs and burn worse than Shredder’s claws carving through his flesh. 

It still leaves him clutching at his chest in the bathroom, though. Vomiting up whatever got stuck in his throat so he could breathe again. But it’s just Mikey, so Leo decides it’s not that bad.

-

It becomes a favorite pastime of his, to watch his brothers eat. He doesn’t know if it’s creepy or concerning; doesn’t see the need in finding out.

Sometimes, he likes to justify it by saying he’s making sure they can’t follow him in this. It’s ironic, that to keep them safe he can’t be their leader, not here, but Leo doesn’t dwell on it for too long for the sake of his own sanity and power trip.

Ignore, ignore, ignore. As always.

If he’s honest, it’s a little bit addicting, too. Giving in to the need to be superior , to be better than.  

He watches as his brothers eat and eat and eat and watches as they grow slow and sick during training. He feeds on the thrill and the white hot rush it gives him as the stabbing in his gut cuts the edges of his mind and keeps him sharp on his toes. And he only feels a little bit bad about it.

It’s easy to ignore the guilt as the sickening-sweet taste of Mikey’s chocolate passes through his esophagus twice, and he lets that consume him instead.

-

There is no food shortage in the house, and he knows this. 

Just as he knows that he is to be small, to take up no space where it is not needed, and knows that he is only truly needed on the battlefield.

Sometimes, he wonders how close their skeleton is to a human’s, as he feels the bones of his wrist protruding from his skin and can’t help but to poke at them. Asking Donnie is always an option, of course, but recently he’s felt as though his younger brother is growing tired of him, so he tries not to speak around him, just in case. 

The question plagues him though, each time he catches a glimpse of the bones beginning to stick out of his skin, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

It’s power. He’s powerful, he knows this, it’s power -

He’s lost to all of his brothers by now. It feels less powerful than it used to, but he tells himself that it’s only because he knows they deserve to win. He’ll find his victory another day.

-

“Are you not hungry?”

It’s a mockery of that night in the kitchen. Donnie’s voice is far more accusatory than it was then, hardened by the yellowing light of the kitchen and the curious glances of his family members, and Leo tries to pretend it’s not exactly the same situation as when they found out he was hiding the flu. 

He had seen what was left in tonight’s pot after serving the other bowls (just as he knows his place, he knows this rank must be maintained), and if he didn’t get a bowl himself, Mikey and Donnie could have leftovers for at least two more lunches. 

It’s not like he planned it that way, as he measured out the noodles and the sauce. 

He swallows to stall, and the water is bitter going down his throat. Tainted by the knowledge that everything comes up easier with liquid.

Raph grunts. “Leo, don’t just sit there and drink your water. Answer th’ question.” He jabs a finger in Leo’s general direction and squints down at him. Like he’s superior. Like he’s better than. It stirs anger inside of him that Leo hasn’t felt in a long time, and he would be scared of how misplaced it was were he not so hungry and offended. “You haven’t eaten all day.” 

“It’s a stupid question,” he mumbles. The room is spinning. “Obviously not.”

Splinter looks away when Raph glances at him, and Leo feels as though he’s both won and lost simultaneously. He is empty and full and spewing vomit in the toilet just to the left of Splinter’s room hoping that someone will hear him, for once, make the choices for him, and he is hoarding uneaten food in his room to make sure they never know all at the same time. 

He feels powerful, being let off the hook at Splinter’s dismissal, and small, watching his brothers share glances in front of him, beyond the point of caring. 

-

“I was thinking of doing checkups today,” Donnie says, not looking at him in a way that makes it obvious he is looking at him. They both know check ups involve weighing everyone. “After training, come to the lab.”

He doesn’t know how he’ll feel, when he sees the weight on the scale. Will the power corresponding with emptiness in his mind follow him there? Or will he feel something else - something he’s felt for a while now but knows he should not.

When the time comes, he doesn’t look at the scale. He doesn’t have the willpower to. 

The gasps from everyone around him fill him with a strange sense of elation, though. He thinks that’s enough. 

“Leo…”

powerpowerpowerpower

“I didn’t think -”

“How long has this been going on?”

betterbetterbetter you’re better than all of them betterbetterbetter

“Leonardo -”

Donnie’s voice reminds him of a question he had wanted to ask for a while now, and his lips are loosened from the hazy state of his mind so he asks before he can stop it and before the shame can set in.

“What’s the healthy weight, then?”

Unsurprisingly, the numbers blinking back at him from the scale are far lower than the answer.

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel about that. 

It’s probably not the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, nor the feigned disinterest (he can’t bother to muster up shock, or pain) he’s using to cover it. 

His mask is tight enough, even now, to keep the tiny smile from slipping through. 

It wasn’t about weight loss, at the start. But somehow, the lines between emptiness and power and withering away all became intertwined, and now his brothers are staring back at him with horror and if he weren’t guilty for breaking rank he knows he’d feel far too happy. 

-

“So… we just gonna pretend we didn’t hear you vomiting?”

The thrill that first sparks through him like a livewire is doused by a bucket of cold fear as Raph says it. Both emotions are equally as strong, but ultimately, he knows his place.

Mikey peeks over at him and Leo instantly hardens. His little brother’s not as dumb as he likes to come off; one slip and Mikey will have him completely figured out. If he doesn’t, already.

Donnie is watching him with the cool impassivity of the family doctor. Mask already slipped down and tied tight around his head. Keeping in any anger, or shame, or embarrassment that may spill out should Leo open up to him. It’s offensive, honestly, and only solidifies his decision to stay mum.

“I ate something bad,” he hums, snatching the remote from Mikey in his distracted state. (Or maybe not-so-distracted, as it had slipped from his fingers far too easily. Maybe this is a trap.)

Raph snorts and kicks at a trash can from where it had been hidden behind the arm of the couch, and -

Oh. That’s not right. 

That’s his trash can. From his room. 

The power is slipping away from him, the scale tilting. His breath comes in short, wet gasps suddenly and he knows that the others can’t hear them but he also knows he doesn’t know what he knows anymore.

A Twinkie wrapper spills out, and he remembers asking Casey to buy them for him for a “movie marathon.” They were shoved in the small cupboard he kept for hard nights. 

He must zone out for a little bit -

He’s used to this, he still has the control -

because Donnie’s hand is now on his wrist, gently taking his pulse, and he’s suddenly too ashamed of the protruding bones to function. To say something.

this isn’t right, he needs control he needs control he needs control

Despite the dizziness and Donnie’s quickly hardening grip, he manages to snatch up the can and kick it behind him, shielding it from view. 

he still has the control here, he is in charge of his brothers and his emotions and his body and by god will he have the control -

“What were you doing in my room?” It’s meant to be a yell, but it’s whispered. That’s okay, he still has the power here. “That’s - that’s my stuff, you can’t go in my room!”

“Leo, we want to help you -”

He doesn’t know which one says it because the room is spinning again, but that’s okay, that’s normal, he’s used to this he’s back in his territory he still has the edge, the advantage, and he will get out of this alive.

“You’ll help me by listening to what I’m saying and leaving me the hell alone!”

He has no time to process the hurt looks on his brothers’ faces before he and the trash can are back in his room, a Twinkie already shoved down his throat and leaving the box Casey bought two days ago empty. 

-

The feeling of control washes over him as he listens to the wet sounds in the toilet, and he lets out a sigh of relief.

He knows his brothers are just outside the door, he can hear the shuffle of their feet and their gasps at every choked-out cough and retch that had become the background noise in his life by now. The knowledge leaves him hollow. 

Isn’t this what he had wanted? Isn’t this why he had chosen the bathroom outside of their rooms? 

Why doesn’t he feel more… something? 

His chest spasms just under his ribs, and he coughs out one last splash of phlegm and acidic bile before standing up. 

He has mastered his body, he knows this. He is in control, even over biology. 

He feels empty and bloated and powerful and spiraling all at once. But he’s still in control, and that’s what matters.

Raph grabs his wrist as he steps out and, expecting this, Leo doesn’t flinch. (Even now, he is in control. Even now, he has fully prepared himself for the battlefield before daring to enter.) He trails tired eyes over his younger brother, dousing whatever flames had had time to spark and rage with one cool glance, and follows him soundlessly to the lab. 

He is still in control. He is still in control .

Donnie checks his throat and teeth, just as Leo knew he would, and doesn’t like what he finds.

“How long have you been doing this, Leo?”

They’re all staring at him now, and he’s not sure how to answer. Would they be impressed, if he told the truth? Horrified? Both answers equally excite him, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

He looks behind them, at the space Splinter should be, and then at the clock. It’s the middle of their day, he knows this, but he asks it anyway. “Is Sensei sleeping still?”

The guilty looks between them are exactly what he expected and craved, but they carve out the remaining scraps of flesh and life from the hollowed-out cavity of his chest nonetheless. “Hm.”

Donnie sighs, and waves a hand in front of his face to get his attention again. The medical mask is back on and tied tight, and Leo pretends he can’t see through it. “Okay, if you’re not going to tell me, then I am going to assume, and you are going to have to be okay with that.”

He shrugs. This isn’t high on his list of priorities right now.

Raph kicks a metal trash can behind him, and Leo bites down hard on his tongue to prevent a flinch from slipping through. Mikey catches on still, of course. 

“You’re scaring him,” he hisses, and this time Leo lets a snort slip out. 

“I’m not scared.”

They all tighten their mouths like they don’t believe him, and an inkling of fear drips into the hole in his chest, burning the tender flesh like salt in an open wound. He needs the control, he needs them to believe him to have control, they need to listen. 

“I’m not scared,” he reiterates, a sharper edge to his voice this time. “Why would I be scared?”

Raph opens his mouth, and Leo welcomes it, welcomes the familiarity and routine and comfort - 

And then Donnie breaks all the rules and speaks first. “Because you’re out of control,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance even though his hands are shaking and his eyes keep darting to Leo’s shoulder, like he’s trying not to look him in the eye, and Leo knows he knows.

He wishes he wouldn’t rise to the bait, but the words are shooting out of him before he can stop them and it’s so ironic he panics. “I’m completely in control.”  

Donnie’s brow pinches and Leo knows he just gave him the final piece to the puzzle, knows he had somehow dug out the box and put everything together without Leo ever noticing, and the notion that he had been this out of the loop for so long sends him reeling. 

Mikey places a hand on his shoulder - delicate, like he’s scared Leo might break - and Leo forces himself to be okay with it, to not flinch, so that he has some semblance of control back. 

“So it’s a control thing, then,” Donnie says, already writing something down before Leo has a chance to defend himself. “I fucking knew it.”

He doesn’t have the heart to chide at him for cursing. 

Raph crosses his arms, and finally , finally, Leo’s getting the fight he wants - “So you - you… make yourself vomit to have control or something? How the fu -”

“It’s common with eating disorders, Raph, calm down. It’s not logical.” Donnie shuts him down, and Leo nearly groans at the loss of a fight, something normal, something he can control. He must be doing this on purpose.

Mikey is the only one who’s looking at him the whole time, gauging his reactions, and Leo doesn’t know if he should be grateful for the hand on his shoulder or threatened. 

“It’s easy, isn’t it?” he whispers, just under the bickering of the other two and for Leo’s ears only. “To lose yourself, I mean. You fuck up once and then you can’t find it in yourself to stop. It’s - it’s like your brain is glued to that thing, you know?” He squeezes his wrist once before letting go, turning his attention back to Leo. “Anyway, I just want you to know we understand more than you think we do, bro.” 

The implications of that have him spiraling even farther into his head, not that Mikey notices. What the fuck did he mean by that? What the hell has Mikey been doing?

A small, selfish part of him wants to dig it up, sniff it out like a dirty little secret he can use for blackmail to turn all of this attention on his brother. Another part of him wants to do the same thing, just for more altruistic reasons. He doesn’t want anyone to go through anything close to what he’s going through. 

A third part, the largest part, wishes he had said it at another time. When he wasn’t struggling to stay cool and unable to bring himself to actually absorb the words, too focused on pantomiming control and poise to fully register the gravity of any situation thrown at him. 

Either way, he doesn’t get much of a choice as Donnie sticks another flashlight down his throat. One problem at a time. 

Like the idea that they might not let him lead the team after this.

-

They handle it differently than he thought they would. 

He had thought… He had thought they would take his control away. That they would smother him. 

Donnie goes over his meal plan with him, not objecting when Leo changes or outright erases certain meals. He knows Donnie will add them back later, but being listened to, without backtalk or judgement, fixes something he hadn’t even known was broken. 

Raph stops fighting him when he gives an order he doesn’t agree with. He still gives an eyeroll and maybe a huff, and Leo is entirely too grateful for it because it gives him a sense of normalcy when everything is changing, but he follows through nonetheless and gives just that little bit of control back. 

He finds out what Mikey had been talking about, too. Old disordered eating habits, manifesting in too much comfort eating and too much shame and meal-skipping after doing so. He’s better now, he says. But Leo keeps an eye on his just the same, because he knows “better” never means better. Still, even though the two of them are far closer than anyone would like to admit, he thinks he can trust Mikey on this one. And, if not, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone cry about twinkies with.

It’s all painfully obvious, and maybe if he weren’t so keenly aware of how much his brothers loved him, he’d mistake it for pity. 

He knows they talk behind his back; everything is far too well-coordinated for anything different. On bad nights, it gives him the urge to control control control  

But a lot of days, he knows it’s out of love, rather than a way to take over his leadership. A lot of days, he can see it for what it is, and force himself to sip his water slowly and take measured bites and let his brothers cling to him (physically, sometimes, in Mikey’s case) after a meal. 

And he knows a lot of days will soon turn into most days and then turn into all days. The thought scares the shit out of him and has him puking his guts up again, though, so for now he sticks to a lot of days. 

His brothers seem happy with that, for now. So he hopes it’ll be okay.