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Mikey hated the stars.
They littered his arms, a constant reminder of how messed up he was. He hated how he had to keep his arms unwrapped unless they went out into the city, baring the stars to his family. Each time a new one appeared, there would be long, silent stares.
Sometimes he didn’t even have the luxury of drawing them on, himself. Sometimes he’d find himself touching the scars beneath the sharpie, not quite recognizing the longing for the hurt that encompassed him. His family never left him alone for long, even though it had been a couple of months since he’d hurt himself. It was always a matter of time before someone came knocking and drew on a couple stars for him, air tense with worry and fear and sadness.
They had been April’s idea, to draw the stars on Mikey’s arms. She’d said that if he cut through the star, that star would die. It was supposed to discourage self-harm. Instead, it only increased the guilt, he’d discovered just moments before, clean slices piercing through flesh and ink.
Mikey really, really hated the stars.
A creak of the floor cut through the silence. Mikey didn’t bother to look up. He’d already known his brother was standing there.
“I thought I was getting better,” Mikey stated dully. The rivulets of blood on his arms said otherwise. He sniffed back tears. “I really, really did.”
Raph knelt down. Mikey didn’t fight when Raph gently removed the kunai from his fingers. He heard the clink of the kunai being placed out of reach. A few tears slipped down his cheeks, the tense storm in his chest swirling as he waited for his brother to speak.
“Let me see,” Raph said lowly, as though speaking any louder would shatter Mikey into pieces. Raph hesitated, his hands lingering over Mikey’s arm. Mikey didn’t move away; Raph took the arm in hand, turning it this way and that, observing Mikey’s self-hatred written in blood.
The silence went on just a bit too long for Mikey’s liking. Anxious, he reassured: “I didn’t cut deep. Not like-” The rest of the sentence stuck to Mikey’s throat. He remembered the last time the two of them sat like this, Mikey covered in his own blood and Raph terrified out of his mind, only the cuts were much, much deeper. Mikey had sworn it was an accident. He still wasn’t sure if his family believed him. He wasn’t sure if he believed himself. Mikey cleared his throat. “I was careful.”
Raph reached over for the small first aid kit that belonged solely for Mikey. It had been the focus of an argument amongst the family- Leo and Raph saying it would only enable Mikey, Donnie and Splinter and April saying it would be better if Mikey had the proper cleaning supplies if he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. Mikey had never felt so humiliated, sitting in the middle of that argument. Actually, scratch that, the entire ‘intervention’ they’d staged had been humiliating. Telling him it wasn’t healthy, that he needed to stop, that they loved him- as though Mikey hadn’t already known these things.
(“If you know this, then why do you do it?” Raph had demanded, arms crossed to hide his shaking hands.
Mikey had shrugged, avoiding eye contact, face burning. “I dunno.”
“That’s a load of crap!” Raph declared over the shouts of his older brothers telling him to back off. “Why can’t you stop hurting yourself?”
April had tried to step in- “It’s an illness, Raph. Like a broken bone. This is an illness in his brain; he can’t just stop, just like you can’t walk on a broken leg.”- but her words had fallen on Raph’s deaf ears and settled on Mikey’s heavy shoulders.)
Mikey hissed when the disinfectant hit his cuts. Raph exhaled. Mikey braced himself for the ‘whys’ and the ‘you shouldn’t haves’.
“You could have talked to me,” Raph said instead, reaching for the bandages. “Or any of us. Thought we finally got that through your thick skull.”
Mikey squirmed. “It was just a bad day. Nothing to write home about. Woke up feeling wrong, y’know?”
“And that’s exactly the sort of thing you need to be telling us about.” Raph clicked the first aid kit shut. “We want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t let us.”
“So it’s my fault?” Mikey snapped, finally looking up.
“Don’t twist my words around,” Raph growled. “We can tell you to stop, but you won’t unless you want to. We can hide everything you could possibly use to hurt yourself, but that won’t change how you’re feeling. We can watch you every second of every day, but you’ll resent us for it. But you won’t come to us when we try to give you space so we can’t trust you-”
“Alright, alright, I get the point,” Mikey interrupted, heart sinking. “Easier said than done.”
Raph rubbed the back of his head with a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Mikey pulled his knees to his chest and set his chin on them. Raph watched with tired eyes. Mikey hated how he’d put that exhaustion and stress there. “Just… I don’t like seeing my brother hurt.” Raph jerked his head back against the wall with a thud. Both of them winced. “This sucks because I’m supposed to be able to protect you guys. But how can I protect you when the person hurting you is yourself?” Oops, now Mikey was crying again. He hid his face in his knees. Raph cleared his throat awkwardly. “But. You know. You did really good. Like. Slip-ups aren’t great, but you held off for almost two whole months.”
“I really tried,” Mikey whispered pathetically into his knees.
“I know you did,” Raph said, reaching over to pat Mikey’s shell. “And you’ll try again. And we’ll find a way to make it stick.”
“What if you can’t? What if I’m too weak to-”
“Shut up, you idiot.” Despite the words, Raph’s voice was gentle. Well, gentle for Raph, anyway. “You? Weak? That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Mikey turned his head to peer at Raph with watery eyes. A wry grin adorned his face. “Tell that to my brain.”
Raph poked Mikey’s forehead. “Oy, Mikey’s brain, stop telling him stupid shit.” Mikey giggled, wiping away his tears. “Listen to your brothers, not your brain. We know better.”
“Are you saying I’m stupid?” Mikey teased lightly, grinning at the deer in headlights look on Raph’s face. “Dude, I’m totally kidding. I know what you mean.”
“Yeah, well, you’d better,” Raph huffed, nudging his little brother’s arm. “That’s what we’re here for. To yell at your brain for you when you can’t.”
Mikey flopped over onto Raph’s side, fingers rubbing at the bandages on his arm. Raph placed an arm around Mikey’s shoulders, bringing him into a half-hug. His free hand laid on top of Mikey’s, stopping the younger teen from irritating the cuts any further.
Maybe the stars didn’t help him, Mikey mused. But at least he would always have his brothers watching his shell, helping him get back up every time he fell.
“You’re a good brother,” Mikey whispered, afraid to disturb the quiet.
In response, Raph drew Mikey in closer.
Yeah. He’d still have his brothers.