Work Text:
It wasn’t a big deal. Really, it wasn’t. Mikey had a habit of starting and pausing projects at random intervals. These were just creative projects, and he made them to have fun and relax, so he didn’t normally feel bad if something got left behind or swept away. Some days were worse than others. Mikey's room was a perpetual and ever-changing tornado of art supplies and work-in-progresses most days, and that was fine.
Though he was starting to notice a pattern he wasn’t sure he was liking. Whenever he’d come home from a battle, whether it be with Meat Sweats or the Foot or whoever, he’d start a new piece. He’d be completely absorbed in this new work for hours, disconnected from his body and just letting his brain work on cruise control. Ignoring or perhaps just unaware of the aches in his body and whatever wounds may need attention.
Walking into his room every day and seeing these half-finished or barely-started reminders of some of the most exhausting moments in his life didn’t exactly set a good routine for him. Mikey didn’t even recognize it until the pile of canvases, mostly stark white with splashes of color, were beginning to pile up on his bed. No more room on his dresser or nightstand and there were only so many safe places on the floor. At first, Mikey just tried to rationalize, he was coping with tiring (he didn’t even want to think of the word traumatizing) experiences he encounters regularly. Tons of people coped through art. It wasn’t a big deal.
But it quickly spiraled out of control. Nearly every day he was having wrist pains and his fine motor skills were getting worse. His brothers had noticed and commented about how poorly he was handling his weapon during training. At one point the works of art he had been proud of had turned into swoops and whorls of color with no discernable pattern or reasoning. It was getting harder to find the motive behind each piece, the emotion in it. It didn't even look like Mikey was the one who'd painted it. He felt like a pot of water about to boil over.
“Mike? You still in there?” Leo’s voice snapped him back to reality, accompanied by knocks at his door. If anything, he was just thankful they’d agreed early on to not enter unless told, Mikey.. didn’t want Leo to see his room right now. The state it was in was nothing short of a disaster,
His bones popped and cracked as he got up to get the door, muscles sore from sitting so still. He did genuinely smile seeing his brother, but the expression slipped to concern as he saw the look on Leo’s face.
“Hey Leo, what’s up?” He asked. The hint of 'we both know something’s wrong, but I’m not going first’ was obvious in his tone.
“Mikey I- '' Leo's voice dropped in volume, softening. The kind of soft that had Mikey concerned, but it helped him realize what’d been happening. Leo saves his serious voice for serious occasions. It didn’t even click that this was a serious occasion until he had heard it. “I came to see how you were doin’. This is like the second movie night you missed and- I wanted to see if you were okay.”
There was a beat of silence. Mikey watched his brother fidget with his arm-guard thingies for a second, Mike was just trying to think of something to respond with.
“Can I have a hug?” Came tumbling from Mikey’s mouth before he had any say in the matter.
For all its worth, Leo had wrapped him in a hug in record time. He swore he heard an ‘oh Mikey’ but he pretended he hadn’t. Physical affection wasn’t rare between the four of them, not in the slightest. Except maybe Donnie, but he showed his affection in different ways. Regardless, the affection wasn’t anything new. It still had Mikey melting, breathing out a deep sigh like a weight had been lifted from him. They stayed like that longer than strictly necessary, and Mikey's eyes drifted close as he registered just how sore and uncomfortable he was from sitting for so long.
“I don’t think I’m okay, Leo,” He said softly. Admitting it was always the worst part. Mikey felt Leo’s breath catch. He had a feeling Leo was expecting it, but his physical response was akin to a flinch. It still hurt.
Leo squeezed him before he pulled away, but rested his hand on Mikey's shoulder, “That’s okay Mike, we can help you right? Maybe distract you a bit?”
Mikey hesitates, nodding shakily. He was tired sure, but he was sure he wouldn't have gotten any sleep in his own room anyway.
“Then we’re gonna help, c’mon we can get some leftover pizza. Don and Raph’ll be up to play some games, I'm sure” Leo says, taking him by the wrist and leading him along through their home. Mikey spares the cracked open door a glance. It's still a looming presence, but it's already looking easier to manage. Leo took him with to gather their brothers and a few boxes of pizza.
No one pries and none of them look at him with pity. They all squish together, sitting on the floor to get the best view of the TV as they play whatever game Donnie had unearthed. A well-practiced and comforting routine. Raph pats his head when Mikey wins against Leo. Mikey’s got a hunch Leo lets him win, but neither of them say anything. Especially when Leo goes all out trying to beat Donnie.
Occasionally Mikey would remember the state of his room, but he’d decided that’d be tomorrow’s problem. For now, he’d stay settled comfortably in his own skin, in the present, and laughing and cheering with his brothers.