Chapter Text
Michelangelo sits on his bed with a dull look in his eyes. Sky blue orbs usually so full of light and life that one wouldn't recognize them in their current state. Staring numbly as blood bubbles to the surface of his sliced arm and streaks downward in red paths of glee.
Mikey is very frustrated. The night itself has been frustrating. It's no one's fault in particular. Just a long day, that's all. But now he can't sleep, and everything feels wrong. For hours the young turtle lay in bed fighting off melancholy thoughts and an aggravating numbness in his bones. Mikey feels so wrong, and it is frustrating.
The act was impulsive, but he doesn't regret it. The feeling of release when the dull blade opens a familiar stinging sensation to focus on and calm his roaring thoughts. He feels strangely at peace as he watches more mesmerizing red liquid ooze from his self inflicted wounds. Michelangelo holds back a giggle as he thinks about how pathetic this whole thing is. Not just the self harm, but all of it.
How disappointed Leo would be that his youngest, happiest brother, cuts himself to cope.
How weak Raph would think of him for not even being able to hold down a meal anymore.
How disgusted Donnie would be at the knowledge of his recent hygienic practices.
How sensei would...
Mikey's breath catches in his throat at the thought of master Splinter. His father. What would he think of his precious, youngest son now? Mikey almost wishes he were here. Just to see how he would react. To see his fathers disappointed face once more instead of Michelangelo throwing a pity-party for himself; alone, in his room.
The turtle snaps out of his thoughts and returns to the situation at hand. The blood has begun to dry, it's time to clean up. Mikey looks around his room and frowns realizing that, in his impulsive state, he hadn't made sure there was disinfectant and bandages on hand for the cleaning process. He would have to go to the bathroom and get some.
The turtle sighs in frustration before standing up and heading for the door. He was too tired or simply didn't care enough to actually hide his exposed wounds. No one was up at this time of night, accept maybe Donnie, but he shouldn't be a problem. He'll lock himself up in the lab for days or even weeks, especially during a difficult period of time. Working until he physically can't.
'And I'm the one with unhealthy coping mechanisms' Mikey thinks smiling to himself a little as he walks through the dark lair on the way to the bathroom.
The mutant turtle gets just feet from the door when he notices the nob start to wiggle. Mikey freezes for a second as he processes the situation. He thinks about hiding behind the door or running back, but it's too late. He had panicked for a second too long and now he stood face too face with his immediate older brother, Donatello.
Honestly Mikey could have easily run back too his room and Donnie wouldn't have noticed. His brother in purple surely hadn't slept for days. His reaction time is noticably slower, his mask is lazily hung around his neck, and one could hold groceries in the bags under his eyes.
"Mike? What are you doing up?" The genius asks a tad surprised. If he had the ability to sweat, Mikey definitely would have started by now, as he stares dumbly at his brother.
"Uhhh to use the bathroom?" He replies as if it’s obvious. Which is the case but Mikey has too get out of this situation, and he knows exactly how to do that: Being obnoxious.
"Why do you piss in the dark?"
Don's face scrunches up in slight disgust at the question. "Unlike you, I don't need the lights on to do everythin-jus...go and get back to bed." He says waving him off. Mikey silently applauds himself for the plans success until he realises Donnie hasn't yet moved.
𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙥
Michelangelo feels his pupils constrict and he looks down the the noise. The arm he held close to his side had began leaking blood. Allowing it to once again trail down his left arm and fall to the floor; Puddling at his feet. The orange clad turtle thoughtlessly shifts his right hand and cuffs it over the wound on his left. Smearing red on green at his side.
"I-uh...I needed the first aid kit.." Mikey mumbles softly, staring at the floor. There was no point in lying now. Even in his sleep deprived state, Donnie wasn't dumb. Especially when the topic of self-harm had been brought up before in the family. Raph would sometimes seek out fights, punch walls, or hit himself when angry. Mikey had been the one to notice the destructive behavior, and inform the family of the dangers.
𝙃𝙮𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚
Mikey looks up at his brother when nothing is said. At the movement, Don jumps a little as if no one was there just a second ago. They hold eye contact for what seems like an eternity. Worried Rusty brown on nervous baby blues as time passes by them.
Donnie sighs and closes his eyes, head tilting slightly downward. Mike's breath catches in his throat. '𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥'
But that thought washes away as he feels a cold hand rest on his shoulder. Donnie looks back up, this time with a fake yet comforting smile.
"I've got better supplies in the lab, come with me"