orangepawn39

Little Mikey

Just a little Turtle :D/Artist/Rottmnt Fan/(they/them) and fan of other things like sonic (you can always ask me about). like to draw so if you want you can ask for a little draw :D

372 posts

I Really LOVE To Read This. And More People Should Read It Too.

I really LOVE to read this. And more people should read it too.

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

TMNT Fandom Family Reunion - Craft Fair Event || Short story

Cabin 10 - The Besties

Little Mikey Future - @orangepawn39

The Wrong Side of the Portal - Me!

I will be referring to the future Michelangelo as Michelangelo.

And to my Mikey as Mikey.

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

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Today was a nice day.

It wasn't too hot or too cold, there was no fighting, they had slept well the night before- Michelangelo had even managed to entertain Maria and multiple more versions of himself and others with the origamis he had been making fly around.

Buuut he had been using his mystic abilities all morning and afternoon- he needed a little break. Thankfully, the other Raph from his cabin had offered to watch over Maria- so with his charge safe, Michelangelo was now walking back towards their cabin.

He had heard the other versions of himself talk about decorating the place. He couldn't wait to see it.

...Actually, wouldn’t his counterpart's cat be inside now? He should say hi, then take a nap. Then he could go back to the craft fair. Yeah. That sounded nice.

Michelangelo closed the door behind him, not all fazed by the dark. He didn't bother turning on the lights as he wouldn’t need them. Just say hi to Ice Cream Kitty, then go take a nap. Simple. Easy.

...Or, at least. That was the plan. Until he heard the quiet sniffles from the bathroom.

The turtle froze. He held his breath, not even moving an inch as he listened... yep, that was a sob. Uh-oh.

He changed directions from the kitchen to the bathroom, getting more concerned by the minute. Why would anyone be sad? Everyone had been having fun as far as Michelangelo was aware. Making crafts, paints...

"...Hello?" He knocked on the door of the bathroom once in front of it- and the hiccups stopped at once. He frowned. That wouldn’t do. "Anyone inside?"

No answer.

"..." Michelangelo pretended to walk away, then kept silent. He heard a shuddering breath behind the door, before a soft sob. He sighed. Okay, so maybe he didn't know everyone very well yet- but these were versions of his family. It could be one of the kids. Someone could be hurt. "I'm coming in bud, okay?"

He heard a panicked breath. "Wait no-"

Michelangelo opened the door. The sight perplexed him.

All the lights were out... yet, despite the lights not being on, a soft, golden light illuminated the room. The source of the light sat on the floor, blue shirt he had been wearing previously thrown away, bandages surrounding the figure from all around... a 15-year-old version of himself sitting on the floor, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. Tears soaking his bandana and slipping down his cheeks.

His arms covered in bright, golden scars, all the way up to his shoulders, shaking like crazy.

Michelangelo put a hand on his mouth in shock.

...Oh.

Not even his own scars reached that far.

At the look he received Mikey teared up- and Michelangelo panicked. "Ah, no, I'm sorry- it's okay, okay-"

He closed the door behind him. Then locked it. Mikey curled up further into himself.

Michelangelo's mind went a 100 miles an hour.

Okay, think. There... hadn't been any versions of him with mystic scars in the cabin, right? There were the kids, the one with- four different versions of each of them? And the one where there had been two of each of them, Ice Cream Kitty came from that world, so no-

"-yeah, little orange is still sleeping all day!" The version of himself with Ice Cream Kitty explained as he held the bowl, Maria gushing over the little cat licking her face. "He was tired- but he would love to meet you!"

...Oh.

Realization dawned slowly. Michelangelo's expression softened immensely.

Right. Mikey had been asleep all day at first. And then Michelangelo hadn't seen him without his bandages or shirt. He was tired. And cold.

Which meant the scars must be recent.

"...Hey, kiddo." He mumbled, slowly walking over and sitting next to him. Mikey didn't respond, trying to muffle his sobs.

"Do they hurt?" The older one asked worriedly, looking them over. What on earth had happened for them to spread so far? Let alone at such a young age?

Yet, Mikey shook his head. Michelangelo looked away.

"...Doesn't seem like it, bub."

"They don't hurt... much." The younger one mumbled, sniffling. The mystic warrior frowned.

"...Then, what's wrong? Surely you would have way more fun at the craft fair than locked in a bathroom."

Mikey flinched.

He mumbled something under his breath, too soft to hear. "Could you repeat that?"

"...I can't join."

Odd. "Anyone can join, mini-me."

"Well I can't."

"Why not?"

Mikey grumbled, frustrated and clearly about to say something-... but then his expression shattered. He teared up again. And closed his eyes as he held out his left arm in front of the other in defeat.

It shook like crazy. Too unstable to hold anything.

Oooohhh.

"..." Carefully, gently, Michelangelo took hold of the younger one's arm. Sucking in a breath when he felt the amount of mystic energy radiating from it. "...What on earth did you do to gain these scars?" He mumbled, gently twisting his arm around. When Mikey didn't answer, the older one continued. "You have trouble holding stuff."

Not a question. A statement.

Michelangelo had experience, after all.

"I can't do anything anymore." Mikey said bitterly, looking away- yet, he didn't take his arm back. So Michelangelo's touch didn't hurt. Good to know. "I can't stand, I can't walk, I can't stay awake, I can't hold stuff, I can't cook, I can't make art-" he forced himself to stop. "...It would be better if I just. Stayed gone. My hands are useless."

"Hey, no." The older one frowned disapprovingly. "You gained those scars for a reason. I bet those hands did some very important stuff-"

"-I had help and still failed." Mikey cut him off, and groaned. "Donnie held on with everything he had. Made me tech to help. Raph left to protect us so I could concentrate- on his own. And I still failed to open a proper portal-"

"A what now-?"

"-I got us stuck in some random universe, I was useless!" Mikey gritted his teeth, scars lighting up in reaction to his anger. Yet Michelangelo didn't let go. "And now I can't do the one thing I'm supposed to be good at?"

He would have said more. But Mikey seemed to remember he wasn't talking to one of his brothers. And bit his lip to keep quiet.

"..." Michelangelo sighed. He shifted his position so he was sitting on his knees in front of the younger one, taking hold of both of his shaky hands so so carefully. He looked at them, for a moment, his thumbs stroking over the other's fingers... before he closed his eyes...

His own scars lit up gold. He could feel the way his younger counterpart tensed but didn't move. He concentrated as gold swirls and sparkles started surrounding the two, his own mystic magic starting to lift objects so they floated around- his hair included. When he cracked his eyes open, just a tiny bit- they were completely gold.

"It takes time to get used to them." He murmured, still petting Mikey's hands. Mikey didn't respond, looking at him with awe- especially when a gold butterfly seemed to appear out of thin air, and land on his snout.

Michelangelo's mystic magic was... warm.

Mikey's had been too. It had been burning hot, painful, eating him alive and melting his being away. But this was different. This was the warmth of a home-cooked meal, of a hug-

Of brothers.

Of home.

"Sometimes, it feels like they'll never get better." The older one continued, letting go of one hand so he could open his palm- the butterfly illusion he had created landed in it. "Sometimes, they'll feel like the uggliest things you've looked at. But you need to remember why they look this way."

"...I failed to save Leo." Came the heartbreaking reply. Michelangelo tisked.

"Did you?" The butterfly flew away to land on Mikey's snout. "He seemed pretty alive to me."

"...But-"

"And you did all that without any practice, at such a young age?"

"..."

Michelangelo grabbed both his hands again, and smiled gently. "I know it seems like they're useless right now. But trust me when I say... they will get better."

"..." Mikey looked away to look at his hands uncertainly, still not convinced. Michelangelo's smile softened.

"Once you learn everything you can do with those hands, mini-me." He started. "You'll see. Just because you can't make art now the way you're used to doesn't mean they're useless."

"And someday." He lowered their hands. The warmth intensified in a pleasant way- a way Mikey hadn't known before, as he finally met his counterpart's eyes. Looking more hopeful then he had moments ago, with tears in his eyes.

'The way you're used to'

...There were other ways he could make art?

"Trust me when I say... like everyone else, you'll learn to love your hands too."