Universe: 2016 Paramount Film

Request: Author's Brain

(Author's Note: Literally from a dream I woke up from and wrote down. I will probably tell the whole story. I think it's my writerbrain encouraging me to finish the chapters of the current fics in progress.)

I'm Fine.

It took a long time, but finally there were footsteps and a soft knock on his door, and Mikey grabbed a pillow and crushed it to his face so he wouldn't scream when he cried again.

"Mikey, I'm coming in," and it was Leo, and he was not really surprised.

Michelangelo kept the pillow against his face and jerked when gentle hands tried to pull it away.

"You need to look at me, Mikey," Leo said. "Please."

He sucked in a breath. Leo's voice was hoarse and too quiet, too raw. It wasn't asking for obedience at all. Leo was in pain.

Michelangelo whimpered. He had caused all of this.

He let his brother take the pillow and then fresh tears welled up when Leo wiped his eyes with his thumbs. "I'm sorry," he gasped, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Leo sounded like he was smiling. Mikey finally opened his eyes, and yes, Leo had a tiny smile there. It made Mikey even more miserable.

"For screwing up!" His molars ground together. "For goofing off to make that woman laugh and letting the crooks get hits in, and for you guys getting hurt, and..."

"Hey, no, stop." Leo's arms were around him, pulling Mikey's chin to his shoulder. "Raph is all right. I'm all right. Cuts and bruises. And you saved that woman's life. You saved her from a panic attack. You got her name and number. And that's one more human who accepts us. That's a good thing, Little Brother."

Nuzzling his shoulder, Michelangelo sniffled. "So you're not mad? Raph's not mad?"

Pulling back just enough to bump foreheads, Leonardo grinned. "Right now, Raph is lounging on the couch enjoying painkillers and watching a boxing match. He's the one who asked me to check on you. Nobody's mad. Donnie is worried."

Mikey blinked. "About me? Why?"

Leo tilted his head. "Because you've been depressed."

Mikey jerked back, eyes wide. "What? Pfft, no. Dude, I don't get depressed."

The look Leo gave him was heartbreaking. "You have no idea, do you."

Mike scowled at him. "I'm not sick, Leo. I'm fine."

Leo didn't even blink. "No, Little Brother. You're not fine. You can't even see how you're falling apart."

And now Mikey was feeling angry, and the new tears felt like fire in his eyes. "Shut up, Leo, you don't know what you're talking about."

He wanted... he wanted to hit something. He didn't want to be here anymore. The hollow numbness was being filled with a strange prickling heat.

"At least let Don check you over," Leo was saying.

"I'm not sick!" And he was yelling and to his ears he sounded cracked. "I'm not depressed! Shut up! Leave me alone!" And those images came again, the knives against his skin, the rush of wind and miles below to the ground. He scuttled back onto his bed, dropping his head into his hands. "Leave me alone, I'm tired."

He heard his brother get up and whisper his name and it sounded like a sob. He listened to Leo leave. He drew his knees up to his chest and rocked back and forth. He felt himself start to shake.

"I'm fine," he whispered to the silence. "Everything is fine."