Chapter Text
Art by Katiemonz.
Once they got home, they slept for upwards of sixteen hours. All seven of them: Dad in his chair and the rest on the floor in a huge pile. It was a hard and dreamless sleep, and Mikey woke at one point with Leo’s elbow in his side and Donnie’s foot in his face. Raph was curled around them, and Mikey laid eyes on the hole in his shell up close for the first time. He turned his gaze away from it and, when he slept again, it was just as dreamless, but, as he was dropping off, he heard cracking.
Before they passed out, there was the customary ribbing. Leo disappeared to take a long, indulgent shower, which had Raph shaking the door with the force of his fists, demanding he hurry up. Donnie scrubbed his face in the kitchen sink and, upon seeing Mikey sitting in the middle of the main room, aching down to his bones, with April already curled up, fast asleep on the hard floor, and Casey muttering with Dad in the corner, waved his hand, insisted he was fine, and took a few steps toward the lab. He didn’t get very far though, just dead dropped right there, as the day caught up with him, as the multiple falls, crashes, almost crushes, and attempted mind controls caught up with him, as his body gave in. He crumpled to the floor, and they left him there until Raph and Mikey had piled all their mattresses and blankets together. Then, Raph lifted April and Donnie into place, he and Mikey settled Leo down with two glares, and they crashed themselves, with Dad already snoring in his chair and Casey lying wide awake on the edge.
Mikey was the last to wake, a full sixteen earth hours later. The world was fuzzy and lit weird, and he realized a bit belatedly that he had the blanket pulled up over his head. When he poked his eyes out, he found everyone except Donnie sitting up around him. Leo and April were looking at their phones, Dad was sitting at the table, staring tersely at the wall with his hands folded in front of him, Casey was standing at an arcade cabinet, not playing but studying the animation of the start screen, and Raph was sitting close, watching the lump that was his youngest brother. When he realized that Mikey was awake, he grinned and called his name, which made everyone perk up and turn to him, large, strained grins crossing their faces.
It was incredibly fake, but Mikey appreciated the effort. He sat up, felt his head twinge, then his arms, then his whole body.
Right. He probably shouldn’t move too fast.
Everyone else was hunched in pain, drawing their bodies into large swoops to accommodate the injuries they would no doubt have to take stock of over the coming days. Raph was closest and his eye was red and swollen, his shell jagged and raw above the left shoulder, cuts lacing up his arms and legs, but, other than the obvious, his shell was intact and without injury.
“How are you feeling, bud?” Raph asked, big hand coming out to help Mikey sit fully. He felt something crack in his neck, which sent a lance of pain up behind his eyes, and, for a second, all his saw was his own hands, disintegrating and peeling, as a power he could barely contain surged through him. He blinked once, hard, and came back to himself. His hands were resting in his lap, whole and intact, and he swallowed.
“Fine,” he answered, trying to sound chipper. It didn’t work, but everyone seemed to agree that, in context, fine with a touch of brokenness was as good as they could expect. Leo let out a long, hard breath, and fell back with his arm covering his eyes.
“Where’s Donnie?” Mikey continued when no one spoke.
Five heads turned in the direction of the lab. Just there, if he focused, Mikey realized he could hear the low sound of electronic bass thudding through the floor.
“You know how he gets,” Raph said.
Leo sighed and curled up on his side. He was bruised, with a large, bandaged cut across one arm, and a swollen lip. His shell was in one piece.
They sat in silence, and it occurred to Mikey that they had all been waiting for him. He was the last to wake, and now that he was up, they had no direction, no goal, no anything. All they had was their wounds and each other.
“Now what?” Casey asked, turning to lean backwards on the cabinet. Behind him, Pac-Man chased a few multicolored blobs back and forth.
They looked at each other again, and no one had an answer.
That day, as they stumbled around the lair, searching for food, limping and half-curled into themselves, Mikey couldn’t help but remember what used to be. The old lair was better lit, despite being deeper underground, but this old subway spur and abandoned station had become a comforting home, despite the circumstances that landed them here. After the Shredder incident, they came back to a destroyed home and dispersed quietly. Donnie took inventory of what was left of his lab, coming out with large piles of technology that was either unsalvageable or too dangerous to tinker with, while Raph sorted through the arcade. Mikey remembered helping him lift countless machines, using the long chain of his ‘chucks as a makeshift pulley, and Raph returned the favor by helping him dispose of the destroyed kitchen. Only a few pots and pans survived. Leo spent those days boxing up the few personal belongings they had left, each taped and labeled carefully. In the end, they could fit the whole of their lives in the Turtle Tank, and they left with only a few tears (Mikey), and a few looks back.
Donnie had located this abandoned station, and it took a while for it to feel like home. They were above the sewers now, both because it was easier for Dad to use the stairs to get up to the surface and because they couldn’t bear to remember what they had lost. It was easier to start over here, where things were less familiar. “And where Karai hadn’t—”, Leo said once, as they stared into the empty space that would become theirs, only to be cuffed on the backside of the head by Dad’s tail. Plus, it smelled marginally better.
But now, as Mikey watched Leo pull leftovers out of the fridge—a pasta dish from Run of the Mill Pizza that Mikey had tried to replicate from memory, some rock-hard burger buns, a few sad, cold hotdogs, a single tomato—the skate ramps painted and drawn on, April folding blankets because she needed to do something with her hands, Raph directing Casey on the best Pac-Man strategy—he couldn’t help but feel like they’d finally managed it. This lair was comforting and homey, packed full of people, and safe for them to recover in.
“This is all we have,” Leo said, passing Mikey a pained glance over the assembled food. It wasn’t enough for seven, but Mikey knew there was some ramen in the cabinet. He nodded once and forced his aching, exhausted body forward. Their stomachs were growling beasts, but there was no takeout to be ordered. The whole city was recovering, just like they were, so it was up to them to feed themselves.
“We’ll make noodles,” he said, and reached up to open the cabinet. His body protested, sending up sparks behind his eyes, and he fell forward, breathing hard. Leo’s hands came out to catch him, and he felt a strong, large palm land on his shoulder.
“Mikey, you need to rest.” That was Raph, voice low and focused. “We have no idea what that portal-jitsu stuff did to you.”
“But—”
“C’mon, little brother. We can handle making some ramen. I promise we won’t burn down your kitchen,” Leo cut in, smiling down at Mikey in a way that looked a little brittle. He wanted to feel useful, Mikey realized, useful and purposeful. Despite sacrificing himself, Leo couldn’t stand to be idle for a single moment.
Sometimes, it was hard being the one with emotional intelligence. He could easily tell that what his brothers wanted more than anything was for him to go sit quietly and let them take care of him. It would give them something to focus on—especially because Mikey was always the one who reminded them of their emotional needs—and they all needed a little distracting right now. They’d all almost died multiple times, and it would take a long time for them to come to terms with that, but none of them were ready to confront it yet.
Mikey sighed. He didn’t particularly want to be taken care of but letting them take care of him would be taking care of them. It was convoluted, but he knew that this was the best thing to do for Raph and Leo’s well-being. It was like how they let Donnie sequester himself in his lab. Processing would come later, after their spinning minds had caught up with their aching bodies.
“Fine,” he muttered, placing himself at the table, “but I’m supervising.”
That made Raph and Leo laugh, a chiming, combined sound that put everyone else at ease. Dad chuckled as well, and Mikey saw him go back to his chair in the next room. The projector turned on, which was the first sign things were going back to normal. That’d been the thing that had made all four of them relax when they finally settled down here, in this new space. Dad placed himself in his chair and turned on his shows, and all was right with the world.
This time, Dad turned on the projector, and Raph and Leo bickered over which pot to boil water in. Across from Mikey, April and Casey sat, gazes long and far away. Casey watched Leo with a deep, unknowable understanding, and Mikey wondered if it was possible for his dumb brother to live up to the future version of himself that Casey knew.
April saw him watching Casey and grimaced at him. She saw it too. I’ll handle it, she mouthed at him, and he nodded.
They sat and worked in silence after that. Leo was clearly woozy and concussed, and it didn’t take long for it to show. He ended up bent over the trashcan, heaving his guts out, before Raph forced him to sit next to Mikey. Mikey, who was decidedly less messed up than Leo, couldn’t find it in himself to feel annoyed at the babying, especially as Leo spat a little blood into the can, but he was annoyed at his brother for pushing himself. He leaned hard into Mikey’s side, head resting on top of his brother’s, and, together, they watched Raph as he finished with his short cooking endeavor.
“Hm,” Raph said as he looked down at the large pot of cheap noodles. “We really should have protein.”
“There’s chicken thighs in the freezer,” Mikey cut in, pushing up from the table. Leo’s arms came up and wrapped around him, dragging him back down, and he scowled. “Let me go, Leo. Raph can’t make the chicken. What if we all get salmonella?”
“No can do, bro.” Leo’s voice was warbled, as if he had to focus to speak. He must have a hell of a concussion. “You’re too comfy… So soft.”
Okay, that was a lie. Mikey was the boniest of them all, but Leo wasn’t budging. It was like he was in stage three of rat flu. He scowled and crossed his arms but decided not to fight it.
“I’ll add peanut butter,” Raph decided, reaching up to grab the jar. Mikey felt a little pleased at that; he’d been listening when Mikey rambled about peanut sauce a few weeks ago. Raph unscrewed the top, plunged a spoon in, and, as he was moving to dollop it into the noodles, something occurred to Mikey.
“Wait!” he cried, resisting the urge to surge upward. Leo’s arms were still tight around his shoulders, and he didn’t want to jostle him too much. His voice was enough though and Raph froze, hand still extended. Mikey turned to Casey and pinned him with a hard, serious expression. “Do you have any nut allergies?”
The whole room let out a controlled breath. Leo, who winced at Mikey’s sudden, loud voice, relaxed against Mikey’s shoulder, even as his annoyed voice came:
“Really? You yelled for this?” Leo demanded.
“Food allergies are serious, Leo. And the emergency rooms are definitely overwhelmed right now. What are we gonna do if he goes into anaphylaxis?”
There was a grumble from the room at large as they processed his logic, and Mikey looked back at Casey. “Well?”
“I—” Casey gave him a lopsided grin. “I don’t know. All I ate was leaves and—”
“Rats,” Dad called from the other room. “Yes, we are aware.”
Raph screwed the lid back onto the peanut butter with a sigh. “So, no PB.”
“Wait,” April said, holding up her phone. “Let me text Cassandra.”
“What?” Leo demanded. “Why?”
“Hi Casey…” April narrated as she typed. “No reason but… Do you or anyone in your family have a nut allergy?”
She hit send and they had to wait two seconds for her phone to vibrate.
“I don’t, but my grandfather does,” April read. “Where the hell are you guys?”
Mikey ignored the end of that and crossed his arms, pleased and victorious, before turning to Casey. “No peanuts for you, young man.”
“So, no PB,” Raph repeated.
Mikey carefully extracted himself from Leo’s arms, sliding out from under him. Leo balanced back in his seat, unhappy. “I’ll make the chicken!” Mikey insisted.
No one bothered to stop him this time.
Over soy-ginger noodles (Mikey karate chopped the fistful of spice packets that Raph tried to empty into the pot, sending them flying across the lair) and after summoning Donnie from the lab, they discussed what happened. Donnie was sitting across from Mikey, and it was the first time Mikey had laid eyes on him since yesterday. He looked rested and calm, if a little distracted, and he listened intently as he scrolled through his phone, offering small corrections to everyone else’s stories. He was just as battered as the rest of them, and he wasn’t wearing a battle shell, which made April grimace at him. He was whole, and he passed Mikey a small smile when he saw his little brother staring at him. Mikey grinned back.
The debrief was quick and neutral, just facts. Raph glossed over his Krang brainwashing and refused to elaborate, while Leo did the same with his time in the prison dimension. Mikey and Donnie neglected to mention what it had taken to gain control of the Krang ship, and Dad sat in silence as Mikey explained to a stunned Casey how he had cracked open the fabric of reality and opened a portal to the prison dimension. “You… You survived…” Casey muttered, which brought everyone to silence as they processed.
“Of course he survived,” Raph rumbled, one hand landing on Mikey’s shoulder. “He’s stronger than he looks, and he had me and Donnie backing him up.”
“Of course…” Casey muttered, eyes widening, as he looked from Mikey, sitting with his hands in his lap, to Raph, bristled and ready for a fight, and to Donnie, lost in the blue light of his phone with one leg pulled into his chest. He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t have to. Mikey got the message loud and clear. The lightning scars on his hands were mirrored on Donnie and Raph’s shoulders, and he clenched his shaking fingers into small fists.
It was April’s turn now, and she launched into a story about how she’d used her crane skills to defeat the sister Krang, but Mikey couldn’t listen, even as she stood up on the table and illustrated every move with her hands. He had me and Donnie back him up… Of course…
He’d died in the future, hadn’t he? Opening that portal to let Casey through— Even stronger and more practiced, future Michelangelo hadn’t survived.
Mikey swallowed heavily and pushed his half-full noodle bowl away.
They dispersed after the meal was done, but Mikey didn’t want to be alone. He sat with Dad, staring at Scorpion Treadmill with his knees pulled into his chest, and only left when he was ordered into the shower by Leo, who walked past and threw a towel at his head. He showered quickly and with his eyes closed; it was better if he didn’t see the grime or have to look too closely at his hands. However, the white noise of the shower and the dark of his eyelids reminded him far too much of the tunnels and the creaking crunch of the tank folding around him and Donnie, so he leaned against the wall, breathing hard, seeing spots, and felt the water beating against the back of his shell disappear. He looked up, feeling a little crazed, and saw the water hanging in the air, as if frozen in time, and his hands were glowing bright gold.
A finger came up, as if under its own control, and the water droplets collided, spread along his arm and hand like it was supposed to, and he took in a quick breath.
Time started again. The water crashed down, the white noise started up again, and he twisted the knob with a flick of his fingers to turn the shower off. He could taste blood, and, when he brought his fingers up to his lips, they came back slightly red. He’d bitten himself.
He groaned and fell to sit on the ground, limbs splayed, shell resting against the back of the tub. He needed to get out of the bathroom, but he couldn’t until he stopped bleeding. If Raph or Leo—or, worst case scenario: Dad—saw his mouth they’d have a fit, and he didn’t want to worry them.
It was becoming a theme with them, he realized. None of them wanted to talk about the details of what happened, and they were pushing it down. They were all doing it, even him, so-called Dr. Feelings, but they all had so much to process. There was no way they could help each other, so tied up with their own, individual shadows. The last (waking) twenty-four hours of their lives had done all they could to shatter them, take them down to the studs, and they had to build themselves back up.
Mikey sighed and touched his mouth again. The bleeding was stopping already, and he turned his head up toward the showerhead. It was dripping, and the sound of it calmed him.
Back with Dad, he sat at his feet, leaning against the side of his chair. Dad was eating popcorn, a habit so normal that it helped center the both of them, and Mikey reached up mindlessly for a piece. Usually, Dad would make a show of not sharing, but he let Mikey go this time, and together they munched on the popcorn in silence.
“Michelangelo,” Dad sighed when the show went to commercial. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” Mikey cut in, far too fast. Dad shot him a worried, knowing glance, and he looked away, feeling like he was all of five years old.
“You are not.” Dad’s voice was strong but kind, understanding, as he pinned Mikey between the eyes with knowledge that only came from raising four boys. “None of us are.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Leo sacrificed himself for you and your brothers,” Dad said slowly, as if weighing each word, “and you almost sacrificed yourself for him.”
There was heat behind Mikey’s eyes now, as Dad’s voice broke, just there, at the prospect of losing any of them. He felt tears begin to well up and he scrubbed at his face. “I couldn’t give up on him.”
Dad sighed again, and Mikey felt a hand land on the top of his head. His father’s fingers scrubbed firmly but lovingly there, and Mikey looked up to see him smiling. “You are very brave, but very stupid, my son. We will work on those mystic powers, yes?”
The warmth that had grown in his chest at his father’s approval drew together into a small stone that plummeted down into his stomach. “I—”
How did he say this? How did he say that he wasn’t sure he wanted to develop those powers? How did he say that he was… That he was scared—
“Dad? Mikey?” Leo’s voice crashed into the moment, and Mikey breathed out slowly, ignoring how thankful he felt that they didn’t have to continue this conversation. “Have you seen Donnie?”
“Not since breakfast,” Mikey answered. “Why?”
Leo groaned and focused on his wrist, where his communicator was lit up in a soft glow. “Okay, so, go over it again—”
“Me and Donnie left to get the tank,” April’s voice said. “I thought he told you guys.”
Mikey’s eyes widened and he looked to Dad. His father was just as wide-eyed.
“Well?” Leo asked. “Raph had no idea. Did he tell you?”
Mikey shook his head. It wasn’t unlike Donnie to leave the lair without them, but he usually made sure to tell at least one of his brothers where he was going.
“Nnnnnope,” Leo answered April, running a hand down his exhausted face. “Ugh, what is with him? Doesn’t he know— Listen, April—”
He turned on his heel and walked away, muttering quietly into his wrist, and Mikey and Dad watched him go.
“Looks like we’re having a family meeting,” Mikey said, bright, trying to lighten the mood. Dad chuckled, low and unsure, and when Mikey turned to look at him, he looked wrung out. Mikey leaned into the side of the chair again and placed his chin on the armrest.
“Dad?”
His father made a small affirmative grunt.
“It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We have each other.”
Dad smiled then, a small thing, and patted Mikey on the head again. “I know. It just might take some time.”
He could feel himself cracking.
It was a sensation that he wasn’t familiar with, but something that had been drilled into him since he was small: Don’t crack your shell. Back then, there were no doctors for them to see, and that was Dad’s number one warning. For non-mutant turtles, a cracked shell wasn’t the end of the world, but it could lead to trouble and infections, so they were always super careful when rough housing, doubly so around Donnie before he developed his first battle shell, and they’d been lucky thus far. With all the battles of the last two years, all the training, and the Shredder incident, there hadn’t been a single fissure, let alone crack. Donnie hadn’t outright lost a battle shell either, despite all the close calls.
But, this time, there’d been two cracked shells. Raph and Leo didn’t get into how it happened, but the crack above Raph’s shoulder was gnarly and angry, and the tissue surrounding it was inflamed. A few inches to the left or south and they would be telling a different, sadder story right now, which was a testament to how skilled Raph was at evaluating situations and moving. It was clear that he’d gotten between Leo and the Krang and had angled his shell to take the brunt of the damage, which had saved both their lives.
Donnie’s shell was a different story. It was made of weapons-grade materials and was “virtually indestructible,” according to Donnie, which was terrifying to think about. The blow that had destroyed it had been meant for Mikey and would have absolutely obliterated his whole body, let alone his shell. He owed Donnie big time, but they’d stopped keeping track of life debts a while ago.
This time, though, it wasn’t roughhousing or even battling a mutant that was causing the cracking. And it wasn’t his shell.
Mikey could feel his arms cracking, see the flakes, could feel it in his chest and up his neck. His lungs creaked as he screamed, forcing himself to channel an unfamiliar energy, and he saw the sky in front of him rip open. Raph and Donnie weren’t there this time, and he forced the energy forward. The small rips in his body stung like fresh, deep cuts, but he ignored the pain. Leo needed him.
He screamed again, and the portal opened. Mikey saw his hands flake away and he closed his eyes.
Then, the cracking turned to creaking. The tank was shuddering, bending, breaking, and Donnie was sitting on the floor, useless and out of options. Mikey stood and held his hands up. The sky opened, and he saw his fingers crack into pieces.
Raph was in front of him, crouched over Leo, holding off the Krang. His shell was lit up with golden light, and he screamed as he pushed Leo into the escape pod. Mikey’s hands came up, useless but desperate to help, and he saw something peel off and fly away.
The portal was opening, and Raph and Donnie were screaming. Mikey couldn’t feel the ends of his fingers, and, when he looked at his brothers, he saw them succumbing to the power that was eating into his arms and chest, crawling up his neck. He watched pieces of his remaining brothers flake off and knew that this power would consume them all.
The portal opened and Leo was there, within reach, but he was limp, shell busted open. Raph snagged him, Donnie protected them all, and Mikey closed the portal. On the ground, Leo was still. They were too late. Something crunched behind Mikey’s eyes, and he saw his hands, glowing yellow and fractured.
“No!” Mikey yelled, and threw himself off the side of his bed. He landed hard on his elbow and felt his whole arm go up in pins and needles. “Ow!” he groaned as he rolled over, grasping at the crook of his arm.
He laid like that for a moment, letting his arm sort itself out, before opening his eyes. Above him, golden energy swirled, and he saw multiple objects floating in the air: a few comic books, the Jupiter Jim action figure that had called Dad’s teapot home for years, a few video game cartridges, and a small screwdriver he’d stolen from Donnie months ago in order to crack open the air fryer, his orange hoodie.
“Well…” he sighed, because what else was there to say?
Everything fell to the ground. One of the comic books plopped open on his face, and he pulled it down with a groan. He left everything on the floor as he padded out of the room.
The common area between their subway car rooms was quiet—not even the sound of Raph’s snoring punctuated the silence—and a peek into the windows revealed Raph sleeping with his face toward the wall and Leo sprawled out on his back and breathing through his mouth. Donnie was nowhere to be seen.
Mikey sighed and headed up the stairs. The lair was like a tomb, with only the soft wheeze of April and Casey’s breathing from the couch to signal any signs of life. He didn’t know what he wanted or where he was headed, but he knew he couldn’t sleep after that nightmare. It wasn’t surprising, the fact of the nightmare, but he still couldn’t help but feel helpless in the face of it. He’d been prepared to re-live the Krang’s invasion multiple times, but the reality was that his mind wasn’t pulling any punches, and there was no way he was falling asleep again.
He snacked on some cold pasta, pacing back and forth across the kitchen, trying to decide what he would make for dinner the next day, when he heard a small thud come from the direction of Donnie’s lab.
Of course that was where he was.
The family meeting upon his return with the tank and a contrite April had been short and hadn’t really gotten them anywhere. Donnie had brushed off their concerns by claiming that he couldn’t just leave the tank in the subway—what if the humans found it? Leo and Raph had argued that Donnie needed to rest, like the rest of them, and they would worry about the tank later. They’d gone in circles like that for a while, Mikey standing uselessly next to Dad and Casey, before eventually breaking the meeting, frustrated and irritated with each other. Things had been quiet since then.
Donnie got like this when things were bad. He didn’t know how to stop, felt like he had to prepare for every possible problem with contingencies and contingencies for those contingencies, and Mikey knew that he would work himself ragged until he passed out if they didn’t stop him.
The lab was well-lit, with multiple computers dotted around and a cooling system that immediately made Mikey’s toes and fingers ache. As he entered, he stepped carefully over a few foil-wrapped packages, but didn’t bother to get a closer look, figuring they were Leo’s attempt to get some food into their brother. Donnie was seated at the large, central table and had a battle shell cracked open in front of him, goggles pulled down over his eyes. He had a soldering iron in one hand and a pair of small metal, anti-static tweezers (sometimes, Mikey listened when he rambled, the same way Raph listened to Mikey ramble about peanut sauces) in the other, and he didn’t hear Mikey come in.
Mikey waited, patient, until he had turned off the iron and leaned close to his project to see it better. Carefully, he cleared his throat.
“Wha—?” Donnie jumped back, throwing his stool back in his haste, and slumped in relief at the sight of Mikey, standing there without his mask or his wrappings. “Michael... Make more noise, will ya?”
“Sorry.” Mikey rubbed the back of his head. “What’cha doing?”
Donnie stooped to pick up the stool. “Nothing important. Just upgrades.”
Donnie was a terrible liar. His voice was too flat. “Uh huh. Have you slept?”
His brother set him with a critical glance. “I could ask you the same thing. Why aren’t you asleep? You’re a growing boy.”
“I had a nightmare,” Mikey answered, a small echo of the past, when he looked to all of his brothers for comfort when the shadows of his room grew too large and sharp.
Donnie’s expression softened in the face of his brother’s small voice. This was a familiar routine, as Mikey used to have bad dreams a lot when they were younger. Back then, being discovered and removed from Splinter was the worst of his worries, and humans were large shadows with even bigger teeth in his dreams. They’d come a long way since then. “Was it bad?”
Mikey shrugged, staring down at his feet. “It was what it was.”
Mikey heard Donnie come around the table and he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He was crying, he realized belatedly, and he sniffed once, trying to hold it in. He didn’t mean to come in here and bawl in front of his brother, but now that he was here, with the brother who had been by his side through the whole of the Krang invasion, he couldn’t stop himself.
Donnie’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up to see his brother’s eyebrows pulled together in concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”
That was a loaded question, especially from Donnie. For him to offer to take some of the burden of Mikey’s emotions wasn’t groundbreaking, but it was unusual. He must look like a colossal mess.
Still, he shook his head. He couldn’t unload on Donnie, not when he knew that his brother was still dealing with his own stuff. Instead, he took in a deep breath, held it, and slowly released. It was one of the first things Dad had taught them, way back when, and the controlled breathing helped center him.
“I’m okay.”
One of Donnie’s eyebrows rose. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
Donnie smiled, just there, a small thing. “Super-duper. Couldn’t be better.”
Another lie. Mikey was too tired to call him on it. “Can I— Are you gonna be here long?”
Donnie cast a long glance back at his workstation. “I—”
“Can I sleep in here while you work?”
Donnie’s face softened and he leaned back against the stable. “No, Mikey, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Mikey’s heart sank, and he looked back at his feet. “Oh… Okay. I’ll—”
“I’m done for the night. Let’s get you back into bed, okay?”
The trek back was just as quiet as before, and Mikey allowed Donnie to guide him to his room. After Donnie pulled the blanket up to his chin like Dad used to and turned to leave, Mikey watched him until he got to the door.
“Wait. Are you really going to sleep?”
Donnie sighed. “Yes. I’m going to try.”
Not a lie.
Mikey scooted against the wall. “Do you want to sleep with me?”
Donnie peered at the small bed with a calculating look and seemed prepared to say no, but then saw something in the pleading, scared look on Mikey’s face and gave in. “Fine, but there’s no way we’re both fitting.”
“I’ll suck in.”
Donnie chuckled at that. “You have a shell, so I don’t think—” He cut himself off when he saw Mikey’s puppy dog eyes. “If you say so, bro. Move over.”
It was a tight fit, but they were both thin enough that it didn’t matter. There was enough room between them that they didn’t touch, which he knew Donnie preferred, but having him close was enough. Mikey felt his heart rate settle, his mind slow down, and he closed his eyes.
Next to him, Donnie relaxed and dropped off, breathing evening out. Mikey focused on the sound of it, and he followed suit quickly after.