Tremors. Cold, yet scalding hot shakes that wracked through his body like an earthquake, not allowing his being and aching muscles a moment of peace, and hell have it, his mind for that sake. He couldn't stand, nor sit down for too long while his immune system felt like it was constantly under attack, the irregular slow beating of his heart near aching beneath his rib cage, the bitten skin on his knuckles drier than bone, yet his flesh was slick with sweat.

His breathing was reduced to desperate huffs, an attempt to get more air into his lungs that simultaneously felt like bursting at any moment. It was like being sick with a bad cold that was multiplied times ten. Almost a plague like symptoms you could say.

That's what withdrawal does to you, he supposes.

It forces you to feel like you literally need to crawl right out of your own skin, even shed your bone, until nothing remains…

"Who in the world Am I?"

" Ah, well, that's a great question."

Migraines.

Piercing, sickening pain that throbbed, maybe in only one part of his head, should heaven have mercy. But typically, there was no merciful presence upon him, now of days. Even so, the thickening irritability that had boiled within his cranium had begun to reduce to a level sting while his meditation deepened.

Yeah, you heard right.

Michelangelo was meditating, cross-legged onto the carpeted floor of his rarely clean room, small candles alight. The whole shebang.

Things had been quite peaceful too, until the loud guffaw of the second eldest had reverberated even beyond the closed door between them. His sitting position slouched in an almost defeated manner as the ache came back full force. Recently, his brothers had played a constant variable within the proverbial bloodied war within Mikey's tattered thoughts. Oh, how ironic that the very embodiment of his love and joy, had been the cause of his internal despair.

Internal, being key word in this strange inner monologue.

High School, however, played the rest. Like a carnivorous plant, right when Michelangelo had been enraptured in it's sweet, deceiving lies, before snapping shut and trapping him in a tightly knitted hell. That wasn't nearly an accurate enough metaphor for what his experience had been so far.

But how he was supposed to sit for seven to eight hours in a completely unstimulated environment was a question he had come to just accept that would never have a straight answer. He had honestly given up trying, which was something he's sure his father would be ashamed to hear.

"Excuses are tools of the incompetent…" Mikey muttered to himself in mock of his sensei's wise words. A hand dragged sluggishly over his face, pulling the skin down and likely leaving it an angry red when he stopped. Yet the slight twinge in Splinters usually stoic expression when ever he happened to look at the youngest, left a spark of hope that maybe he had begun to notice the negative effects within him. Just maybe, his sensei might ask what was troubling him.

Why was he choosing to wait though? Why couldn't he just walk up to his father and tell him, 'Hey, school sucks, this isn't working for me, I want out'?

Because Michelangelo always chose others happiness before his own. Call it his hamartia, his Achilles heel, whatever so does please you, it all means the same. It was a weakness he would never learn to get over. Something that had burned itself into his self morals and personal values in life.

Just the thought invoked a heavy sigh from him. He should really start learning how to be selfish. If not for the good of others, than for the good of his own well being.

Mikey rose from the rather solid position he had held on the floor, a quick glance at his phone screen telling him he had been there for at most, three hours. 6:20 p.m. it read. Figures. Raph's show always comes on at six. No wonder he was being so loud.

Not that he usually wasn't, anyways. At least, not cheerfully so.

That wasn't the point though. He would ultimately have to leave the sweet confines of his sanctum, and face his family, forced to hear about their day during dinner no doubt. Great, right? It should be. Yet the miniscule green of envy couldn't help but to worm its way into his heart every time, much to his dismay. It didn't help that he was the one to ask the question each night either. 'Tis the curse of being the good child. Hah. 'Good child' his ass.

The tiny flickering flames were each put out between the moistened thumb and index finger, not allowing the slightly acrid scent of smoke to waft about. Why did he have such a regrettable feeling about tonight?

Eventually, with heavy steps, he stretched in his own doorway and left his room, wishing he could leave the migraine there as well. Like all problems, however, they don't just dissipate, even with the aid of time.

The lights through out the bedroom hallways were turned off, and at this, Michelangelo could momentarily thank whoever had bothered to do such a kind act. He just hopes he doesn't trip down the stairs though. Passing each closed bedroom on his way, he thoughtlessly made his way downstairs, ignoring the random placement of Donatello's books along his path. Ugh. Men.

Yet not even halfway down the steps, and he could already smell the evenings meal being prepared, something he normally would have loved. Now, it just sent a slight wave of nausea through him, causing an uncomfortable shudder down the base of his spine. Mikey paused to push his discomfort down, lacing his fingers through the unruly blond hair atop his head, eyes squeezed shut. Just as he had been taught, he began the spelling of random words that popped into his mind, distracting the ill set feeling in his stomach with hopes of it not rising to his throat.

S-i-c-k. He felt sick. He needs to feel calm. C-a-l-m.

A grin spread its way across his face.

But right now, he's having a calamity. C-a-l…

The dumb internal pun was interrupted sadly by one of his older sibling shouting his name from some unknown place in the living room, obviously unaware of his presence on the staircase.

Michelangelo rolled his blue eyes beneath the lids.

"What?!" He shouted back, equally as loud while making his way down the rest of the stairs. Two can play at that game.

No sooner had he yelled back, did the taller pop up right in front of him, directing his gaze upwards. Raphael.

"Why are you yelling?" The redhead questioned with a knowing smirk, arms folded laxly across his chest. He only received a nasty (deserved) look from the youngest before Michelangelo diverted his way around him.

Mikey should have expected the rather forceful tug on the back of his shirt, resulting in him stumbling right into Raph's arm that locked his neck in position, making him bend slightly to prevent . "Oh, come on, you know I'm just kidding." His knuckles mussed the blond locks into even more of an atrocity, the strength going unchecked per usual. While normally he would have laughed, maybe poked the other in the ribs until he ducked away with laughter, the heavy scent of his cologne was beginning to make his head spin and his near-restricted breathing was almost painful The younger pried his head from between Raphael's bicep and forearm with a disgruntled noise, huffing with annoyance once he managed freedom.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever…" Came his nonchalant response while walking towards their dining room. That familiar heavy arm rested around his freckled shoulders however, pulling Mikey closer to his brother. "Hey now…" Raph attempted, a slightly concerned gaze furrowing his brows, but he still kept his half smirk. "We cool?"

Of course they were cool. Michelangelo was just being touchy for unknown, but valid reasons.

His older brother seemed satisfied with the ease into his grasp and accompanied nod though as they continued on. The sight that greeted them was Donatello placing silverware and porcelain plates onto the clothed table, while Leo carried dishes of food, steam curling invitingly off them.

For now, he would pretend to miss the shared glance between the two eldest.

Their father entered the room not but a few seconds later than they had seated themselves, Michelangelo placed near Leonardo, the others respectively across from them. Splinter relaxed at the head of their table, their thanks said before everything began to be passed around.

An awkward air settled around them as they all ate in silence, Michelangelo ignoring the pointed look from his father while the others stared. Had he been feeling particularly ballsy, he would have just asked 'What'. There was no need for that kind of disrespect, however. Why his siblings felt the need to also stare between the two of them, as if the mood hadn't been thick enough to cut with a knife, escaped him.

"Your teacher's called me, Michelangelo." Their father finally began while said child began slowly rearranging the shape of his peas.

"That's nice." He muttered in return, chin tucked into the palm of his hand, elbow placed onto the table.

The twitch of irritation his features was caught in the peripheral of his gaze pointed at the food, and he almost felt like laughing at the rather astonished looks of his brothers faces. Donnie's eyebrows were nearly in his hairline, and he tensed, like he wanted to advise against speaking to their father with such distaste.

A moment of continued silence passed as Splinter began cutting the meat placed onto his plate. "... Yes, you would think so, if it hadn't been about the poor state of your grades."

Shit. Michelangelo completely forgot about them mentioning that before he left for the day. Not expecting them to go through with it was probably wrong of him. He certainly gave them no reason to resist doing so.

"You're telling me this like it's a surprise or something, father." The fork in his hand clanked noisily against the plate, scraping it with a mildly obstinate manner. Mikey personally hated the sound himself, it sent unpleasant stinging in the back of his head, closest to his ears. It almost resembled his current emotion right now. Pure, unadulterated annoyance.

"This is a surprise." Splinter began, setting his own fork down beside the plate, alongside its matching knife. "You are a very bright child and I know this from experience. There is no reason for your average to be so low. I feel the problem with you, is your stubborn attitude."

Michelangelo did chuckle at that, silverware clattering against his plate. "Even with your perfect vision, you always did have trouble seeing what was right in front of your face." He bitterly snapped, staring down his father's judging gaze. If the room hadn't been completely quiet, then it certainly was now. The slight darkening of his face didn't seem to phase him like it normally would, in any other situation. .

He mumbled a quick 'Excuse me' and pushed away from the table, food untouched. His name was called, but it went unanswered as he retreated back to his room reticently, the door closed behind him.

A thumb hovered over the lock for a long, contemplative moment, before he decided against it.

There would no doubt be later repercussions from his choice of actions, but right now, falling face first into his bed, he paid no heed to what would happen at a later time. Fists balled up into the welcoming sheets and countless covers, only after his shirt was shed, revealing the mass of freckles aligning his shoulders and neck that undoubtedly covered his cheeks as well. Almost as if someone had taken a hand full of the nights stars and thrown them onto his skin, like glitter to a sun-kissed canvas.

Thousands of thoughts flooded through his mind though, once his fair eyelashes brushed the pillow while closing. He could have told them. Everything. About his pain. His struggling through the days with an apathetic mask that frightened even himself.

But he couldn't. Even if he wanted to.

He wouldn't.

Splinter had only been partially right about his 'stubborn attitude'. Hell, he would have hit the nail on the head if he had a slightly more insightive notion.

We all know how that had hurdle had been ignored, however.

A light and dreamless state had overtaken him before he had realized it.

Yet even so, waking up to the muted sound of his alarm enveloped his actions in a thick sheet of restricting velvet and befuddlement, staring at the blurred blue numbers within the dark room before realizing he was up an hour early.

A cold chill swept over his body, startling him into a stark awareness of how he had forgotten to pull the covers onto himself before actually falling asleep.

If this didn't upset him, then the fact he would have to go back to the hellishly monochromic confines in a few hours certainly made up for it. His groggy state only felt heavier with that in mind.

Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sat up, knowing that if he did it too quickly, the blood would rush to his face, leaving him unbearably stunned for the moment being. The slight ache in his back reminded him of the hours spent in one place seated on his floor. Nothing he couldn't put up with, however.

Unsteady legs draped over the side of his mattress, bare feet grazing the carpet while he regained his bearings. Chills raised the hair along his arms and neck at the warmer possibility of a steaming hot shower, and soon began powering his legs on that ideal alone.

Clean clothes were plucked from his open drawers, tossed onto the marble counters of their shared bathroom sink, the old tossed into the clothes hamper. As much as he resented it, the shower was short and sweet, knowing that if he wanted to prolong the inevitable confrontation of his earlier actions, he would need to leave before anyone was awake. Knowing his father, however, he would already be up, hopefully not downstairs, where the only exit happened to be.

Living in one of the tightly knitted houses, stacked up side by side, left no room for a backyard or a front one for that matter. That was New York, he supposed.

Stepping out the shower, he quickly dried himself off, draping the fluffy towel loosely over his head while tugging his clothes on. Said towel was hung to dry, and he left the bathroom after brushing his teeth.

What he hadn't expected, was to bump face first into the chest of Leonardo, who looked just as surprised as Mikey felt.

Why was he up this early?

Then again, the older was probably questioning that right back at him internally. In a hushed voice, Michelangelo apologized, grinning meekly up at the raven before attempting to make a clever escape.

It proved futile though, when he was pulled back and spun around to face him, leaving the younger dizzy before he could process what had happened.

A hug. It was a tight, warm hug, that somehow felt even better than the shower he had just taken, and it was nothing less than completely and utterly welcomed. His bespeckled arms wrapped around him instinctively, and his head rested onto Leo's right shoulder. He briefly wondered how long it had been, since he had hugged any of them like this…

Before too much emotion could well up though, he pulled away with a glassy gaze, giving him a reassuring smile to the almost worried frown, but Mikey didn't stick around look any longer.

Eventually, he was let go, and left to head downstairs to retrieve his book bag from their coat closet, stringing their school iD around neck, and slipping on socks and shoes before leaving through the door as quietly as he could.

Shakily, he breathed out the raw and exposed feeling his emotions had been reduced to, from just a simple hug nonetheless. Thier affection, was almost dangerous, where it should been inviting. Too much of a slip up, and he would have a huge mess bloodying his hands…

Michelangelo checked his pocket for the phone he had snatched off its charger before leaving, sighing when he found it was safely tucked in its original place. He honestly couldn't handle walking back into house, with hidden traps just waiting to ensnare him, like his eldest brother's had just done.

The thought had occurred to him though, that he had not eaten since the previous day, but that could fixed with a quick stop by a convenient store.

His walk had ended up being a rather peaceful one, silent, undisturbed, deathly so almost if hadn't been for the occasional chirp of early rising birds. The sky was a dark blue-orange hue still, decorated with the occasional cloud drifting by. Street lamps had still been left on and the whole scenery was just a very pleasant ordeal.

He was slightly ashamed, when the sudden vibration of his phone against his thigh solicited a small jump. His pace paused, and he tugged out the device, near instantly smiling when he saw the message.

'Love you baby bro.'

It was Leo's number. Mikey was quick to respond back.

'Love you 2.' A countless number of dumb emoticons followed the text, something that would hopefully put his seemingly troubled relative to rest.

The rest of the way to the store was slightly more blissful…

Too bad it wouldn't stay that way for long.