A/N – This is my first fanfic for any fandom, and if I must be honest I'm not sure where this story is going, if anywhere! I would simply appreciate some feedback on this piece so I can learn from the experience of writing it. Thanks :o)
23/08/09 – I've tinkered a little bit...not enough to change the story, just a little of the wording here and there.
Disclaimer – they aren't mine, so matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.
***
He breathed in deeply, and for a fleeting moment allowed his eyes to focus on his frozen breath. He watched intently as it hung in the air before allowing his attention to be drawn to the streets below. They bustled with people going about their lives; children laughing as they danced through the crowds, businessmen on their cell phones too wrapped up in their affairs to notice before careering into the people in front of them, girls staring longingly into shop windows at colourful accessories that they didn't need but coveted all the same; all manner of peoples hurrying along. In the constant humdrum of a city that doesn't allow itself to sleep, snowflakes fluttered almost carelessly from the sky, lacing the pavements with white.
December and me, we have a love hate relationship. You see, I love the festivities that come along with the month – Christmas is, after all, my favourite holiday! I love buying presents for my family and friends, to see the looks on their faces when they open my gifts to them. I love the Christmas tree, roast turkey, pulling crackers, fairy lights, the smell of clementines and winter spices, and waking up at 4am just like when I was little, brimming with excitement.
But, I also hate December. It brings with it the remembrance that unlike all the people I am watching below, I do not have the freedom to roam the streets at will, to stare into shop windows, or get so caught up in a conversation that I forget to watch where I'm going. I have to do Christmas shopping in disguise, so the people out there won't discover that my skin is green, that I only have 3 fingers and that I have a shell on my back.
Please, don't get me wrong. I love being a mutant turtle, I really do. But sometimes I just want to be able to get lost in a crowd and completely blend in with the people around me. Sometimes, I wish I weren't so different. I dream I could be a visible part of the world that so temptingly surrounds me.
A disgruntled cough from behind dragged him from his thoughts. He turned and caught his brother's penetrating stare. It was time to go.
"Come on Shellferbrains! In case ya forgot, we're cold blooded."
He hadn't forgotten. The decline in temperature was making him shiver slightly. Michelangelo threw a grin towards his brother, seeming to forget his brush with melancholy from just the moment before.
"Sure thing bro, I wanna get these wrapped and under the tree before dinner!"
Raphael grumbled and turned, leading them back into the shadows, whilst quietly thinking about his brother. Normally Mikey couldn't stand still for more than a minute, and certainly wouldn't stay quiet. The behaviour he had just witnessed was out of character for his mostly over enthusiastic sibling. Raphael reasoned to himself that even someone like Michelangelo needed moments of quiet reflection from time to time. He dismissed the concerns he may have fleetingly had, and silently led his brother down to their home under the streets of New York City.
***
Winter slowly ebbed away, ushering in the warmer breezes of spring. On the streets, heavy coats and fluffy scarves gave way to light jackets, shorter sleeves and open topped shoes. Trees were once again adorned with crisp new leaves, and the parks of the city had bloomed into colour.
Michelangelo found himself staring down at the streets again, as he had done a few months previous. It was a different rooftop on a different day, but the same conflict resided in his thoughts.
I love the sun. You can't feel it in the sewers, or when we patrol at night. If I were a human, I think this would be one of my favourite times of year; kissing goodbye to the harsh winter months and enjoying the sunnier and brighter days. Just hanging in the park with my bro's and father. Raph tackling me in response to my trash talk, tumbling to the ground, feeling the soft grass beneath us and having to squint because of the sun in our eyes. I can see Master Splinter and Leo sat on a blanket meditating, expressions of utter contentment on their faces, and Don lying plastron down, completely absorbed in one of his huge science books.
Man, it would be so sweet.
No, wait -I have to stop thinking this way. There's no point in dreaming of something I can't have.
I'm happy. I've always been happy. I am the fun loving, prank pulling brother. I can totally see the bright side to everything. Where someone may see a stinky sewer, I see an awesome arena to rip into with my skateboard. I love the life that we lead; being a ninja and beating up the bad guys, protecting the city. And yet at times...
...I hate it.
Heh, another love hate relationship; just like what I thought at Christmas. Except this is a love hate relationship with my entire life. I hate being confined to the shadows. A part of me just wants to be free.
On this occasion there was no brother standing watch as he stood in silent contemplation; he was on his own, having snuck out of the lair. No doubt his brothers and father would soon realise he wasn't in his room, if they hadn't already done so. Once he returned, he knew punishment awaited him. At that moment in time however, he didn't care.
Leo will probably lecture me when I go back. "You can't be so careless Michelangelo! What if someone saw you?!" I'll be grounded, so I won't even be able to leave the lair at night, let alone during the day. I'll hate it, and be bored outta my shell, but you know what? I think it's worth it just to be here now, in the daylight hours, in the sunshine...
***
"Michelangelo, where the hell have you been?"
"I just went for a walk Leo. Sorry." He stared at the floor beneath his feet. Leonardo was furious with him, and whilst at the time, he had told himself he didn't care what punishment awaited him, now he was facing the consequences of his actions, guilt overcame him. He knew that his family only cared for his wellbeing.
"What do you mean, 'a walk'? To where exactly?"
"I went topside."
Leo looked at the youngest of his brothers, anger disabling his ability to speak for the briefest of moments. He had come to expect such reckless behaviour from Raphael, the so nick-named 'hot-headed turtle', but not Michelangelo. Sure, he could act stupid and fool around, but he normally understood why rules were in place, and obeyed them. What had changed?
"Mikey, we were worried sick! Master Splinter was worried sick! And what were you thinking? It's the middle of the day; anyone up there could have seen you!"
"Leo, I know, and I'm sorry. I just wanted..."
"You just wanted what? To put us all in danger?"
To feel free.
"...nothing, Leo. I was just being stupid. I guess I'm grounded now so I'll head to my room. Tell Master Splinter I'm sorry."
Resigned to his fate, Michelangelo walked away. Leonardo hung back, watching his brother intently. His shoulders were slumped forward, his steps slow and careless, face still glued to the floor, a blank expression across his face.
"I see your brother has returned, my son."
Leonardo broke his study of his brother and turned to face his father. The rat known as Splinter looked up to him, concern etched across his brow.
"Yes Sensei."
"Did Michelangelo mention where he has been?"
"He says he went topside Sensei. He seems to accept that he did wrong although I think something could be wrong with him; he did not react in a way I have come to expect of him, and he walks without his usual confidence."
"I believe you are right my son. I fear Michelangelo is starting to realise that there are many avenues in this world that are not open to creatures such as ourselves. He is not accustomed to such musings and they are causing him conflict."
"Conflict, Master?"
"Yes my son. Your brother can see the slightest glimmer of light in the darkest room; hence he can make the best of most situations he finds himself in. At the same time, he desires to soar into the world, to interact and experience everything it has to offer. However, he knows he cannot. And this will cause him conflict. He has no quarrel with the life he leads, finding pleasure in simple things, such as his games, comics and most importantly in the company of his family and friends. Still, he dreams of joining the world at large. And this will cause him pain."
Leonardo considered his father's words. This struggle between reality and dreams is something he and his other brother's had all experienced to a certain extent. Growing up and taking on responsibility was his own way of handling such conflict. Dedicating his life to looking after his family and honing his skills as a ninja and leader took precedent, and the dreams of his past were pushed to the back of his mind. Michelangelo had yet to grow up fully, and much of his time was spent enjoying the outputs of the world above; television, comic books, video games. Mikey still allowed himself to dream and to get caught up in his dreams.
"Is there anything we can do?"
Splinter sighed. "There is little we can do, except to understand and be there for your brother when he needs us. This is something Michelangelo will need to come to terms with himself, just as the rest of you have."
With that, Splinter turned and headed back to his room.
***
Michelangelo closed the door behind him, careful not to slam it; there was no need to attract unnecessary attention, he told himself. He glanced around his room, breathing in heavily and taking stock of all of his possessions. Comics and action figures cluttered the shelves on his walls. Upon his desk lay his pencils, paints and sketchbooks. He picked up one of the books to find images of sunsets and beaches, lush green forests and snowy mountains looking back at him; all drawn by his hand; most copied from either magazines or television. A solitary tear leaked from his eye, wetting his mask and slowly making a path down his face.
Something inside him had just snapped.
Dreams are so futile.
He screamed as he ripped the sketchbook into pieces.
Why am I only realising this now?
He recalled the chilly night in December, when he watched the people on the street from the rooftops. That night he was conflicted, but Raph's presence had unknowingly brought him back from it. He thought he had forgotten the melancholy in his heart...he thought it had freed himself from it.
No, I just pushed it to the back of my thoughts...it never left me...
He heard a knock on his door. His brothers had heard his scream.
He ignored them.
With a smooth flick of his wrist, his most prized possessions tumbled down from the walls. Figurines smashed as they collided with the floor; front covers ripped as comic books fell, tearing apart.
"Mikey, are you ok?" Donatello's frantic and worried tones vibrated through the cracks between the door and its frame.
He simply continued to ignore them.
"Don, get outta the way! If he won't let us in, I'll smash the door down!" Raphael's bulky frame could be heard ramming against the wooden barrier.
By the time the hinges gave way and the three brothers tumbled in, the damage had been done. The room was basked in darkness. Dust filled the air, disturbed by the rage that had just been set upon it. Michelangelo lay on his bed facing the wall, turned away from his brothers...brothers who were trying to comprehend that he, fun loving, hard to anger Michelangelo, had just trashed his own room in a fit of fury.
"Mikey?" Leonardo said questioningly. The blunt and empty response eventually came;
"Just leave me alone."