Archive of Our Own

“That's not going to close.”

Donnie, carefully trying to balance a third suitcase on top of two others, leans back to look at April.

“Maybe it would, if one of you actually tried to help.”

Raph and April, both equally invested in the task of trying to look busy, quickly avoid his gaze.

He's not looking at Leo, because it would probably cause him to say something like: 'You think this is a three-arm job?', which would make Donnie's face turn into that deeply and unexpectedly sad expression, which would make Leo feel so guilty he's shaking with it, and it's just a little too early for all that.

“You're doing great,” Mikey says, just to be encouraging.

He's not really doing anything either, but Donnie doesn't look at him.

He was supposed to paint the side of the minibus because he said he would, but the brush felt frail in his soft grip, the lines coming out shaky and uneven, and then he knocked over the paint bucket and almost started crying.

He's sat on the floor now, with a fresh, bright orange stain on the concrete next to his feet, a few ugly scribbles on the car, and a deep knot in his gut.

Which is stupid, really, because that's what he wanted to do, and getting upset over it makes him feel like an inconsolable child.

“Do we really need all this?” Leo asks.

The fact that he's responsible for at least half of their luggage seems to escape his mind at the moment.

“If we run out of food,” Donnie takes a slow step back, like he's trying not to startle the game of Tetris he created out of their bags, “we're eating you first.”

“We're not going to run out.” Leo rolls his eyes, rocking on his feet. “You know, there's this thing called 'grocery stores'? You go in there and you can exchange money for items. Crazy things that humans come up with.”

Donnie looks at him.

“Are you being annoying on purpose?”

Leo huffs, like he's taking great offense to that, but doesn't say anything else.

Mikey's not sure which of them is right. He's never been on a road trip before.

The idea was sudden and spontaneous, like a spark that quickly turned into a blaze, until it was all any of them could think about.

“I want to get out of here,” April said one evening, lying flat on the couch, her legs thrown over the armrest. “I feel like I'm going crazy.”

And that was that.

By the next Monday, Leo had drawn out a thin line in red ink over a map, cutting the country in half. On Tuesday, Mikey spend excruciating hours convincing their father that they were well equipped to deal with far worse dangers than dehydration, high gas prices, and white vans full of potential kidnappers. On Wednesday, Raph came home carrying every tourist guide he was able to hold in his arms, which was a lot.

By the next Sunday, Donnie had the car ready.

A minibus, to be precise. It was a new and shiny thing, with rows of seats, sliding doors, tinted windows and many other possibly illegal modifications. Mikey was also almost certain none of the steps his brother took in order to obtain it were quite lawful, but his excitement quickly outweighed his already brittle moral compass.

He wonders, now, if with a bit more of a foresight, Donnie would've opted for something with a bigger trunk.

Carefully, Donnie pushes the back door of the car closed.

Inside, their suitcases rattle to the floor.

He sighs, resting his forehead against the metal.

“Hey, Leo,” Mikey tries, pushing himself upwards. He's already feeling restless. “Wanna help me make lunch?”

He doesn't need help, and if he does – he doesn't want it.

But he wants Leo, the opportunity to talk to him.

“Nah, I'll help Donnie here before he pops a vein. But Raph has been reading the same page for twenty minutes now, so I'm sure he'd be happy to help.”

Quickly, Raph closes the little booklet in his hands, cheeks pink.

Leo turns to smile at Mikey, almost on instinct.

But then his gaze falls on the car, his face drops, and he turns around awkwardly, like he's not sure what to do with himself for a moment.

Mikey wants to grab and shake him until he finally tells him what's wrong.

He thinks they might be fighting, which is strange, because he has no idea why they would be.

It took him a moment to realize it at first.

The first few weeks after the Krang were spent on mending old wounds, ripping out new ones, and it felt like years and years of things held back, never spoken out loud, spilling out all at once.

Mikey can recall the one time Leo found him making pancakes at four in the morning. Or attempting to, because his hands started to bleed again, and Leo held his wrist in place under the faucet, washing his palms with cold water and screaming himself hoarse.

And then Leo yelled: 'Are you trying to hurt yourself or are you really this dumb?', and suddenly Mikey felt like it wasn't about the pancakes at all.

But it's been three months since then, and there's no longer any doubt in his mind.

Leo is avoiding him.

It's confusing and it hurts, and it feels like he just woke up to find half of the walls in his house missing. And the worst part is just that:

He doesn't know why.

“Okay,” he says, all casual, because if Leo can lie, so can he.

He watches Leo forget himself for a moment, bringing his palm to his stomach like he wants to rub his hands together. Then he freezes, just for a moment, before letting his arm fall.

Mikey stands, giving his brother one final look.

Leo can't run forever, but he knows him too well to think he won't try.

It's a good thing Mikey isn't anything but stubborn.

***

America from a passenger window, as Mikey finds out over the next few days, is a lot bigger than he expected.

It's miles and miles of fields, and forests, and fields again, and he watches all of it roll pass with the sort of squashed amazement, like he can't quite believe it's real until they stop for a break, and he can take a breath, cities and villages, and trees, and lonely gas stations stretching out before him.

Mikey managed to convince Draxum to let them borrow his old cloaking brooches, and they quickly make great use of them, stopping at every monument and museum any of them finds mildly interesting (which in Leo's case includes not one, but two ''world's largest balls of yarn'').

But Mikey's favorite moments are the nights.

They sleep on the sides of the road, in the woods, in front of someone's field; in small tents with the occasional bonfire to keep them company, away from the busiest roads and civilization.

Just a few years ago, the thought of sleeping on hard, cold ground probably would’ve made all of his siblings wince in vague disgust. But they've grown tougher over the years, rougher around the edges, and he can't decide if it's a good, or a bad thing.

The days are hot, and the cold of the night feels soothing, and Mikey spends hours with his head tilted back, watching the stars, to then promptly pass out in his seat as soon as they start up again.

“Lucky bastard,” Donnie tells him one morning, yawning. “You get to be a passenger princess.”

Mikey, one of the two passengers not allowed behind the wheel, leans out of his seat to look at Donnie in the rear-view mirror.

“I wouldn’t be, if someone agreed to teach me how to drive.”

Donnie frowns, wrinkling his snout in a funny way.

“Let you drive my cars? I don't think so.”

Mikey doesn't even take it for anything other than a joke until Donnie's eyes widen suddenly, real panic quickly flooding his face.

“I mean, not like I think you'd be a bad driver!” He turns around to look at him. “It's not because of the- It's- I was just joking.”

“Dee, eyes on the road,” April says quickly, making a weird gesture like she wants to lean over and grab the wheel herself. She always seems a little on the edge when Donnie's driving, and no one can really blame her for it.

Donnie turns back with a quiet swear under his breath.

Behind him, Leo and Raph exchange silent looks. They all fall quiet for a moment, like they're expecting Mikey to flip out, and really, that makes him want to do just that.

Instead, he says:

“It's fine. I didn't assume you meant it that way.”

He probably shouldn’t feel too offended, even if Donnie did mean it in that way. He doesn't think he'd be able to keep the wheel straight anymore.

“Hey,” Leo says suddenly. He's holding a map Mikey didn't notice him grabbing. “There's another yarn ball, like, five miles from here.”

Raph quickly grabs at the map.

“No way.”

“I'm telling, you, man. There are so many.”

“They can't all be world's biggest,” April says from her seat next to the driver. “You think they just keep building new ones every once in a while?”

Leo's good at this. At turning everyone’s attention so effortlessly, so quickly, it's hard to even realize it at times.

Mikey watches him for a moment, trying to catch his gaze.

It never happens.

***

One day, when April's 'no radio until I've had my coffee' rule keeps them all quiet for the good chunk of the morning, Mikey pulls out his sketchbook.

He hasn't touched it in a while, and the thought of doing so now feels heavy. But the road is quiet, the view behind the window nothing but grass and flat ground, and he feels warm.

It's not until he opens up the sketchbook, pencil gripped in one hand, that he feels Raph lean forward, looking over the back of his seat.

Mikey can't see his face, but he can feel the way Raph's fingers tense on the material, the slow exhale that escapes him.

Mikey feels his jaw clench, his jagged nerves already flaring up.

“I'm fine,” he states, before his brother has a chance to say anything.

He feels like his whole life is now revolving around those words.

Yes, I'm fine. No, I don't need help. Yes, I can do this on my own. Over and over again.

Mikey clenches his pencil a little tighter, the contrast of the white pages and his black compression gloves stark.

Raph makes a face, like he begs to differ, but is not sure if he's ready for that fight.

“Are you sure?” He asks despite it. “Raph doesn't want you to-”

“Raph.” Mikey turns in his seat, pushing against his seatbelt to look at him better. “I'll be fine.”

He knows that his stare tends to be intense at best and intimidating at worse. Luckily for him, that is exactly the reaction he's currently seeking.

“I know,” Raph placates. “I thought-”

He doesn't really finish. His mouth draws into a thin line, a vague hum rising in the back of his throat.

“Hey, Big Guy,” Leo says suddenly from his seat in the front (it's his third time in a row winning the paper-rock-scissors for it, and Mikey starts to suspect he's cheating, somehow). “It's okay. Leave him be.”

Raph gives him a look, one that only older brothers seem to be able to understand, until he finally sighs, falling back against his seat.

“Alright, alright, sorry.”

A flash of familiarity washes over Mikey.

In many ways, Leo's always been like this.

First to laugh, first to say 'I told you so', first to back him up, first to defend him, even when Mikey was elbows deep in teenage rebellion and barely gave him any ground to stand on.

He was funny, the coolest person ever, larger than life and it made Mikey's chest swell with pride to say: ''This is my big brother and he's my best friend''.

Leo turns to him, cheek rested against the headrest, sending him a conspiratorial smile. Then his gaze drops slightly to the sketchbook thrown over Mikey's lap.

His expression wavers, something complicated showing in his eyes, until it all collapses. He turns back, eyes on the road.

Mikey clenches his jaw, feeling his own smile fade.

***

Mikey falls in love with roadside dinners – head over heels.

The food is mediocre at best and beyond vile at worse, the floor always feels sicky, and the tables seem dirty even when he watches the waitress wipe them down.

But there's something about it.

About walking in, their cloaking brooches pined to their shirts, and piling into a booth. About laughing, arguing about the menu and anything else that comes to mind. About making everyone at the dinner give them a dirty look, because they're being obnoxious and they're being teenagers.

Moments like that make Mikey feel whole again. Better, even.

Infinite.

Like they're just normal kids on a trip to catch last breaths of freedom before college, and they're young and unburdened, they have nothing to be afraid of, and things like 'death' simply don't happen to people like them.

“I'm getting the eggs,” Raph announces finally, putting down his menu.

“How many portions? Six?” April teases.

It sounds like she's joking, but Raph seems to actually be considering that option, humming softly.

Mikey turns to look out the big window. Kansas is nothing but fields and grass, and he watches the few lonely trees sway in the wind.

Absentmindedly he rubs his hands together.

They feel dry and achy today, like something's pushing at the tight skin from underneath. It feels weird with so many fingers. He's not going to let that ruin his day.

“How come they don't have vanilla milkshakes?” Donnie huffs, turning the menu over again. “That's, like, the most basic option.”

No one questions him on why he wants a milkshake for breakfast, because he will be driving later, and having him behind the wheel in a bad mood feels like a death wish.

“How dare they,” Leo says, in that tone of his where they can never tell if he's joking or not.

The waitress, previously busy with trying to start the coffee machine (seemingly by punching it several times), finally walks up to them.

She's looking down at her notepad, and there's a vague, practiced smile on her lips. She's around their dad's age, maybe with kids of her own, because she doesn't seem all that bothered by all the noise and chaos they've been causing.

When she's standing in front of their table, she finally looks up.

“Hey, what can I-”

She goes quiet, all of the sudden.

Her eyes sweep over all of them, her mouth slightly open, like the words she's been speaking every day for so long have suddenly escaped her mind.

And this is Mikey's least favorite moment.

The moment the illusion breaks.

Because they're not normal kids, they're here because their whole world fell apart just a few months ago, and there's nothing any of them can do to change that.

Her eyes go from Raph’s eyepatch, to the scars covering April's and Donnie's faces and arms, to Mikey's palms, finally landing on the left sleeve of Leo's hoodie.

“Oh,” she says, quietly.

(art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast (tumblr))

Leo wouldn’t sit next to Mikey, which hurt, but it means he can see his face now, the way his expression folds in on itself, until there's nothing left but a blank slate. It's hard to tell when he barely looks like himself.

Mikey aches.

Donnie clears his throat, loudly and only a bit rudely. Carefully, he raises one eyebrow.

“Oh!” The waitress blinks, suddenly flustered. “I'm sorry, I just- I'm sorry.” She looks to the side, embarrassed. “What can I get for you?”

By the time they get their food, it all slowly rolls back to normal.

Leo's smiling and joking along, and if there's a slight downturn to his lip – they all pretend to not notice.

He finishes his portion faster than Raph, which is almost absurd, and Mikey quickly gets the feeling they'll be stopping again very soon for him to vomit it all back on the side of the road.

“I'll wait in the car, okay?” Leo says, pushing back his empty plate.

He doesn't wait for a replay, grabbing his jacket and exiting the dinner like it burned him.

Mikey watches him go.

“He just needs a moment,” Donnie says, following his brother to the car with his gaze through the window. “He'll be fine.”

Mikey wonders then, if any of them noticed what’s happening between him and Leo.

He tells himself no, because that is what he hopes for.

But that's another lie, probably.

***

They're stopped at some forgotten rest stop, and it's a quiet evening, the setting sun covering the horizon in a pink hue. It's the sort of view that makes Mikey want to step away for a moment and just watch, because there's only so much family time one can manage in one day.

He's not the only one.

He finds Leo sat on one of the covered benches, his back pressed against the plexiglass. The left sleeve of his hoodie was trimmed, and he's playing with a loose thread, eyes fixated on something in the distance.

There's a nervous feeling in Mikey's guts, like all the butterflies turned into a mush and he might throw up at any moment.

But it's a chance he has to take.

“That's coming undone,” he says, chin pointing to his sleeve.

Leo blinks slowly, turning to him, like he needs to take a moment to fully digest his words.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah.”

“Want me to fix it for you?”

He's not sure why he says it, because it was Dad who spent hours carefully altering every piece of clothing Leo owns. But he needs to say something.

“It's fine.”

They stay in silence for a moment, and Mikey turns his eyes to the horizon.

“What's so interesting out there?” He asks, not expecting to get a real answer.

Leo opens his mouth, stops for a moment.

“I don't... Know,” he says, but it sounds different.

Because he's been different since the Krang, and all of them know this by now.

He's quiet at the most unexpected of moments, distant and hazy, like your hand would go right through if you tried to reach him.

He smiles and laughs but it's not the same, like a speaker that's been dropped one too many time – everything sounds just slightly pitched.

Mikey wonders where he goes when he disappears like this.

“Gotta remind myself the world isn't all gray,” Leo says, suddenly. “Not like...”

He stops.

He blinks, looking at Mikey once again, and there's a strange expression, like he just realized who he's speaking to.

“Like what?”

“Like New York on a cloudy day,” Leo says, an easy smile fixed onto his face. “Come on, let's get back to the car.”

Mikey wants to scream.

Because they used to tell each other things like this, and Leo knows he knows, and he can't figure out why he's being lied to. Why his brother won't talk to him.

If he's trying to protect him in some misguided, backwards way, he's being a fool. If he thinks Mikey can't hear the way he wakes up some nights with a gasp, a silent scream still lingering on his lips. If he thinks Mikey doesn't notice the way he rubs at his chest sometimes, like he can still feel a linger of old pain there. If he thinks Mikey never notices the way he goes silent at the sight of red lights, static behind his eyes.

If he thinks Mikey doesn't have nightmares of his own.

Leo stands and Mikey wants to cling to him.

He wants to grab at his arms and dig in his claws and scream at him until Leo tells him what he's done wrong. Why he doesn't want to be his friend anymore.

He doesn't, and Leo pats at his arm as he passes him.

***

Utah steals Mikey's heart in all possible ways.

It's all red sand and dry land, cold night and the echo of something old and bigger than him in the wind, and stars that look back when he tilts his head up.

They camp further away from the road, where it feels like they're the only people left on the entire earth, and all of this, every moon, every rock, every breeze, is just for them.

They set up a small campfire inside an old metal barrel and sit around it for hours, swaddled in blankets and hoodies, and sweats, because the chill is calming, but unforgiving.

Mikey wears three layers at any given moment, curls up close to Raph in his sleep, and wishes the sun would never raise up again.

He wakes up one night, the sun still far behind the horizon, and there's a small rustle outside of his tent.

He doesn't stir at first, because his general aversion to anything horror related made his mind less likely to jump to axe murders and ghosts at the first opportunity.

But the sudden familiar footsteps make him frown, and he sits up. It's a full moon, and he watches Leo's shadow pass his and Raph's tent, his movements quiet but not silent.

Slowly, Mikey rises to his knees.

By the time he manages to pull on all of his clothes and crawl out of the tent without waking up his brother, Leo's already by the car, leaning against the hood, ankles crosses.

He's wrapped in jackets and hoodies, and they almost hide the way he flinches when he finally spots Mikey out of the corner of his eye. Almost.

“Hey. Why are you awake?”

Leo looks at him for a moment, then he squints slightly, like he's trying to hide a different expression.

“Why are you?”

Mikey considers telling him the truth but then doesn't.

“I had a nightmare.”

He feels bad lying when he doesn't need to, but it's worth it for how quickly Leo's face softens. It's half a truth away. He woke up this morning with cold sweat running down his back.

“Oh. Sorry.” Leo's quiet for a moment. Then, a little shyly: “Me too.”

It's a start, a small crack between the door and the frame, and Mikey throws himself to shove his foot into it.

“What was your about?” He asks.

Maybe it's a little too forward, because Leo doesn't answer him. He stares up at the night sky.

He's holding onto what's left of his left arm awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fingers, like he's trying to soothe it over the layers of clothes.

Mikey's gaze lands on the side of the car, on the ugly smudges of paint he left on it, before quickly deciding he doesn't want to look at it any longer.

He walks up, sliding on the hood next to his brother.

“I've never seen a sky like this,” Leo confesses.

Mikey follows his gaze up, up, up.

“Yeah.”

“Not in New York.”

He says the last part oddly, and Mikey can't decide if it's homesickness, or the exact opposite. He looks down, watching Leo move his fingers again.

“Does that hurt?” He asks, pointing to his side with his chin.

“Not really,” Leo answers far too quickly, dropping his hand.

But Mikey knows he's lying.

There's some real elegance to the way Leo lies, like watching an expert work their craft. Would've fooled anyone else. Maybe even Mikey, just a few months ago.

But he sees the slight downturn to Leo's mouth, the way his jaw shifts in place, the way his chest staggers for a moment with every breath.

He's hiding pain, and it's the kind of pain Mikey knows all too well now.

“My hands hurt, too. Sometimes.” He stretches his arms, the scars on his shaky palms stark in the dim light.

He's trying to encourage vulnerability, but it must be the wrong thing to say, because his brother's mouth turns into a thin line, and he looks away.

His hand rests on the hood, like he's ready to push himself forward and run at any moment, and something in Mikey snaps.

“Are you mad at me?” He barks, finally.

(art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast (tumblr))

Leo blinks, turning to him again. He seems slightly panicked, like that was the last thing he expected Mikey to say. Mikey would feel bad, if he wasn't so damn angry.

“What? No.”

He sounds honest. More than usual anyway. Mikey wants to believe him.

“You're being so weird around me.” He wraps a loose string from the edge of his hoodie around his finger. He doesn't pull it loose, because that would hurt more than it's worth. “I don't know what I did.”

Leo watches his hands, like he can't bear to look him in the eye.

“Nothing,” he says. “You've done nothing.”

Mikey bristles.

“Stop lying to me, that's so annoying.” He pushes his hands inside his pockets, and that finally makes Leo meet his gaze. “I feel like you hate me. I know you don't, but it feels like that, and I don't know why.”

It's all been brewing in him for longer than he realized.

It feels unfair.

He knows he's not entitled to Leo's attention, to his love, but it feels like he is, and he's past the point of caring about all the different ways in which that makes him selfish.

“I don't- Mikey.”

He says his name like Mikey just hurt him so deeply he's lost for words.

“Just tell me what's wrong,” he pleads. “Please.”

You're not alone, he wants to say. I want to be friends again.

I miss you.

Finally, Leo sighs, and it's like the breaking of a dam, his eyes suddenly glossy and wet in the moonlight.

“Mikey,” he says. “I ruined your life.”

That makes Mikey pause. All of it – his anger, sadness, bitterness – coming to a stop.

“What?” He asks, mostly for the lack of anything better to say.

And, because, really: what?

“I know you can't do art anymore.” Leo pushes himself away from the car, pacing nervously, counting down the fingers of his one hand. “I know you struggle at training. There are eggshells in everything you cook now and I-” He stops, taking a deep breath. “It's all because I did something stupid, and you had to save my ass.”

Mikey stares at him.

He stares and stares for what feels like hours, until he finally feels his voice return to him.

“Are you being deadass right now?”

There's the start of a laugh in his voice, but Leo must realize he doesn't find any of this funny, because his face remains appropriately miserable.

“I'm sorry.”

“Leo.” For a moment, Mikey wants to walk up to him. But then he doesn't, taking a breath. “If you ever thought, even for a second, that I wouldn't die for you, you were wrong.”

Leo laughs, a hollow and hysterical thing.

“Angelo,” he says, like he doesn't really believe he's being serious.

But he is.

He'd die for all of them, his whole family, over and over again.

“Master Michelangelo died opening that portal,” Casey told him months ago.

And Mikey thought: 'Yes. I would.'

He steps forward.

“You're right. You did a stupid thing. Because you're stupid and brave, and you always want to save everyone.” He walks up closer, taking one hand out his pocket to point it at Leo's chest. “And I saved your ass, because I love you.”

Leo's face softens, a small frown forming between his eyes.

“I wish you...” For a moment, Mikey thinks he might say: 'hadn't' and almost punches him square in the face for it. “I wish you wouldn't have to.”

“Me too,” he says, honestly. “But this isn't your fault. I knew what I was doing. Sort of.”

He doesn't want to say the last part out loud, but if he's being honest, he might as well go all out.

“I- Okay.”

Leo doesn't seem too sure, but it sounds like he's been holding all of this back a lot for a long, long time.

“You saved me too, you know?” Mikey asks. Leo looks at him like he didn't know that, and that's so absurd it almost makes him laugh for real. “You saved the entire world, idiot. And it-”

“Costed me an arm and a leg?” Leo smiles, all wobbly and unsure, and Mikey giggles, honestly.

“Exactly.”

“I was scared,” Leo says, “that you were going to hate me for it. I wouldn't blame you if you did. But I didn't want to see it.”

It's like weight off his shoulders, like finally digging far enough to notice the root of the problem. Even if he doesn't know quite what to do with it - he can see it now, and that makes everything click into place.
“I won't.” Mikey holds out his hand, pinky pointed out. “Promise.”

Leo wraps their fingers together, shaking their hands a little.

“Yeah. Okay.”

And for a moment, it feels like they're kids again, sharing secrets and promises in fortresses made of blankets.

Leo lets their hands drop.

“Gosh!” Mikey tilts his head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I can't believe you got me so worried over something so stupid.”

“Sorry,” Leo says, and it sounds like he's only half joking.

He holds out his arm, fingers flexing.

And Mikey doesn't hesitate to reach forward, wrapping his arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Leo holds him like he's a lifeline, like he's afraid one of them will disappear if he lets go.

“Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Mikey asks.

He meant for it to come out as a joke, but Leo's voice sounds dangerously shaky when he responds:

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

Mikey just holds him tighter.

He doesn't think this fixes everything. He doesn't think this fixes much at all, all things considered.

But the deep knot inside his gut is gone, and when he wakes up tomorrow – his home will feel whole again. That's all he wants for now, really.

They can deal with the rest later.

Step by step.