Chapter Text
No one cares where a hero comes from.
As long as you can protect them, that's all they see in you.
No one cares where a hero comes from.
As long a you can provide for them, that's all they care for.
No one cares about the hero.
Nor your happiness.
Nor your struggles.
Nor your past.
Nor your future.
No one cares.
Your duty as a hero is to protect and step back, just so everyone else can enjoy the happiness you bring.
It's not your duty to smile.
Or to be seen.
Or to be known.
Or to be cared for.
You care so they don't have to.
The hero can never be troubled.
And if they are.
The hero can never let it get in the way.
The hero's past can linger over their head and poison every aspect of their day to day life.
But it can't affect his job.
His duty.
His responsibility.
The lives they care for are far greater than his own.
No one cares about the hero.
And why should they?
Mikey questions this almost every night before going to bed, as soon as the lights are turned off, and when the nothingness of silence engulfs him, it's the only thing that can distract him from the ringing in his ears.
His mind drifts off to that place in the back of his mind, where he can just let go and start thinking.
And thinking.
And thinking.
And he can't stop himself from thinking, until hot, burning tears force him into oblivious sleep.
He never felt like a hero.
He never felt like a protector.
And he definitely didn't feel worthy.
He used to not think about his purpose and just let the night or his brothers take him to where he was supposed to go.
Follow Leo's instructions.
Fight as instructed.
Win and retreat.
It was simple. It used to be simple.
Living in the shadows, never being acknowledged, because the humans you fight to protect every single day might turn against you if they knew who you truly are.
They don't care about you or what you do for them.
They judge.
They scream.
They run.
And you are left wondering what you could've done to prevent this.
What can you do for them to see your intentions and not your exterior?
Your mutated exterior.
Truly repulsive in their eyes.
It all became too consuming, too exhausting, too taxing.
Why were they the ones in charge of saving the world in the first place?
That was messed up.
They were only children.
He daydreams of the life he could've had if only he had been born human.
What would he had done differently?
So many things.
He regularly had all these crazy fantasies of running away, find a group of mutants who didn't know him and live his life as a fugitive.
He imagined himself living somewhere far away from civilization, running through the wilderness.
He dreamed of being free.
But that wasn't in the cards for him, and he knew it.
The rest of his life had to be spent serving and protecting, because if not him, who?
He has to save his brothers from themselves, because only Mikey knew how to.
Only he knew how Donnie liked his coffee in the morning.
How to prepare ramen the way Leo liked it.
How to cook Raph's eggs and toast his bread just right.
How and when his father liked his tea.
And he knew what to say to each of them when they needed someone to talk to.
He knew when his brothers wanted advice.
To be heard.
To be challenged.
He just knew.
So he pushed the fantasies away to focus on the reality before him, the duties he carried.
This night was different.
It was just Mikey and Leo on patrol, running from rooftop to rooftop, letting the cold New York air hit their face at full force every time they landed on a building.
Mikey's ankles shook upon impact, but after so many years of training, none of his acrobatics really hurt anymore.
That probably would be nice, though. Pain helped ground him when they were in a fight.
He sometimes liked the feeling of pain.
The electric shock that sparked through his body when he got hit during fights.
Even the taste of blood in his mouth was a welcomed surprise.
There was an uncomfortable weight pending between the two brothers, and Leo couldn't pretend like it didn't bother him anymore.
"Mikey? Are you okay?" A startled noise left the youngest's mouth once the silence was finally broken.
"Mhm. Never better."
"Right..."
An awkward silence fell upon them once more. Mikey sat down at the edge of the roof they had landed on and kicked his feet against the concrete walls, bouncing his heels up and down.
Mikey had never been one to stay silent, so the leader could feel in his skin that something was up, but talking about feelings with his little brother was harder than pulling teeth.
Ironic, as the youngest often times scolded them for always bottling up.
But everyone could tell how Mikey became uncomfortable when they tried to talk to him.
He'd laugh awkwardly and desperately try to change the topic to something else. The brothers usually relented, because they didn't like rocking a boat that so clearly didn't want to be rocked.
Besides, this was Mikey they were talking about!
What could possibly be wrong with Mikey?
This time, however, it felt different.
There was a disconnection.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
"Yup."
Leo turned his head to lock eyes with the turtle beside him, but said turtle didn't even react.
At least, not completely.
His eyes remained glued to the city before him, and his feet still swung up and down in the air, but Leo noted how his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, and his lips were pursed into a thin line.
Was he pushing too hard?
"And... you know, you always help us when we need to talk, too, so–"
"Aw, man. What time is it?" Mikey pulled out his T-phone from his belt and pretended to be shocked at how late it was.
"Dang, I'm beat. Let's go, Splinter is gonna get his tail in a twist if we sleep in tomorrow, y'know?"
The orange clad tried to hop to the other roof, but his brother held his hand with conviction.
The oldest didn't know why he did that, or what he was planning on saying once he got Mikey's attention once more.
Mikey was also shocked, but quickly bounced back with a dismissive comment.
"What? You don't care about training now? Splinter's also gonna get mad at you."
"Splinter can wait."
Leo wasn't dropping it.
Bummer.
Mikey sighed, walking off the edge and standing back next to the leader, who looked at him with restless eyes.
His eyes were always cold. Their deep blue reminded him of the depths of the ocean.
It sent a chill down his spine.
"Mikey, if something's bothering you–"
"What is up with you guys today!? First Raph and now you? Is this why you only took me on patrol tonight? Just to interrogate me!?"
"...Raph tried to talk to you too?"
His little brother's eyes went wide. He had assumed the two oldests teamed up to try and get him to talk.
"Wait. You didn't know?"
Was he really just being so obvious?
"...Dude, forget I said anything! Just let me go home."
"No! Mikey, you never want to talk about how you feel! You never let us help you–"
"Okay, Leo! You wanna talk about feelings!? Fine! Let's talk about feelings!
When we go on patrol and end up fighting one of the many mutants that hate our guts, I sometimes wish one of them gets a lucky hit on me so I can just die!"
Leo went limp, his hand finally releasing Mikey's wrist from the firm grip he had been keeping it in.
The orange clad quickly realized he messed up the second those words came out of his mouth.
He never intended on telling this to anyone. It was one of those secrets that you are supposed to take to the grave, to be buried six feet under in a casket alongside your body.
He never wanted his brothers to know.
And now, Leonardo won't stop looking at him with his cold, fear-filled cobalt eyes.
"Ugh, dude... I'm sorry, okay? Let's just forget I said anything."
The fear in Leo's eyes was quickly replaced with a face of utter disbelief. Appalled, even.
"Oh! Yeah! Sorry, let me just pretend like my little brother didn't admit he is suicidal!"
"Barf. You sound just like Raph when you get angry–"
"STOP TRYING TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT, MICHELANGELO!"
Leo never ever called him by his full name.
But Mikey knew.
He knew that his older brother wasn't angry.
He was scared.
He could see it in his eyes.
In the way his hands were shaking.
He was terrified.
"...I'm not–"
His throat suddenly went dry, forcing him to gulp down the little saliva that started pooling inside his mouth.
"I'm not suicidal."
"Yeah, you just want someone else to kill you... you don't want to do it yourself. So, what's the difference?"
Should he say it? Should he add fuel to the fire?
What's the point in hiding it anymore? The cat was out of the bag. It couldn't get worse than this.
"That's not what Splinter taught us. If I do it– it'd bring dishonor to the clan...
And Splinter would never forgive me."
If a pin dropped, it would probably be heard a thousand miles away.
Was it the right thing to say?
He didn't know anymore.
It had already been said, though. So it didn't even matter.
"Man, who cares! I already do what I'm supposed to do, right? I'm not even gonna kill myself anyway, so why does it even matter?"
And he meant it when he said it. He trained, he fought, he saved the world.
He was always there when they needed him, day and night.
Even if when he didn't want to, he served his purpose.
What else could they possibly want from him?