Aaaaaaa

The noise was too loud, too much, and no matter how much he tried to focus on the TV -- was  Uma Thurman in this movie? -- Michelangelo couldn’t do anything as the shouting invaded his brain.

It seemed the lair’s cycle of tension was at its most volatile point again, and it was here for the long haul -- Leo and Raph had been arguing multiple times a day, every day, for a little over half a month. And it didn’t seem to slow down, even with Splinter’s gentle guidance and tough love getting involved. And Mikey knew Splinter didn’t like getting involved with his eldest sons’ spats. 

Mikey stood from his spot on the couch -- no, that wasn’t actually Uma Thurman, just some look-alike -- as his head and heart somehow gained weight and wouldn’t stop. He rushed -- but didn’t run, that would bring their attention to him and he couldn’t deal with that right now -- to his room, the shouting turning into a buzzing noise that he could no longer make out the words of. His vision was starting to blur, though he was distantly aware that this was due to his own tears.

Closing his door behind him, dropped to his knees and crawled to the side of his bed, pulling the comforter off of it and over him, covering even his head. He lay there and tried to breathe, tried just to feel comfortable but the weight in his chest was insistent, it would not be ignored. Mikey knew he wasn’t having a heart attack -- Donnie said they were all in great health and they were way younger than the average heart attack victim, but the pain was just too much for something not to be wrong.

Oh, it was the panic.

The first time Mikey had a panic attack was after a nightmare maybe a month after Leo got sent through April’s window. He woke in the middle of the night and tried to stumble to the kitchen, thinking that the solution was simply a glass of water. It wasn’t.

Splinter had found him on the floor, silently crying into his fist and shaking. His father had stayed by his side until the shaking died down, had pat his head for what felt like hours before Sensei had prepared tea for him and had woken Donatello up to find out what had happened. Donnie really didn't seem to know at first, but after a lot of research -- and maybe a few more panic attacks -- Donnie gave a tentative diagnosis of a panic disorder. And Mikey had begged Splinter and Don both to keep it between them. He was too nervous -- too anxious -- to tell their older brothers or any of their human friends. Really, he was also very embarrassed, even after Donnie said it his anxiety wasn’t anything he did wrong.

Donnie and Splinter were the smartest and wisest people he knew, respectively, and neither seemed to know much about anxiety disorders or have experience with it. For the next few weeks, they both had started reading all they could about it, from the DSM-5 to parenting books to random blogs on the internet, they both poured over information, only to be unable to do anything. Donnie had suggested anti-anxiety medications and while Splinter had agreed that it was probably a better option over a long period of time, he was against stealing from any pharmacy or trying to find pills that could be mislabeled or laced with something in the garbage. Mikey had sat in on these conversations, of course; Donnie had said that it was his right to know about his own health and how it would be addressed, but the conversations had only left Michelangelo feeling helpless. If Donnie and Splinter didn’t know how to help him, to really help him, how would the rest of his family react?

Even where he was today, at home, trying desperately to tune out his brothers’ yelling and angered screaming, he hadn’t told them a thing. He didn’t want to stress them more than they already were, with Karai leading the Foot and Bishop doing what he wants to whoever he wants, and everything else the average teen mutant has to deal with. Still, nothing seemed to help and his breathing became so ragged that he hadn’t heard Splinter calling for him from outside the door nor did he hear as the door opened. 

Mike couldn’t hear as his father cooed as he approached his form, but certainly felt a familiar pat upon his head. He opened his eyes as Splinter took the comforter from his head and lowered it to his shoulders. “Michelangelo? Would you like for me to stay with you?”

Mikey shook his head, more vigorously than he had meant to, but Splinter didn’t seem to take it to heart, instead opting to hum and taking in his son’s condition with an unreadable expression. “I shall have Donatello come here in a few moments with some tea for you. Please try your breathing exercises in the meantime.”

As Splinter began to walk away, he took his walking stick into his hands, his knuckles going white around it. The younger couldn’t help the questioning whine that escaped his throat, even as it led to a few coughs escaping from his tightened and dry throat. Splinter lowered again, thumb whipping tears away. “Do not be concerned, my son. I only plan on correcting the source of this particular event.”

Michelangelo was left alone again, this time with the reminder to breathe -- in for four, stay, then out for six -- when Donnie came in with two mugs. Had it already been a few moments? One of them was filled with coffee, no doubt, but Mikey didn’t mind the smell. If anything, it was welcome, familiar.

“Hey, Mike.” Donnie greeted, sitting gently on the ground beside his brother and handing him the second mug gingerly. Mikey forced his hands to still -- as much as they could, at least. “Pretty bad this time, huh?”

“Was it?” Mikey responded, taking a sip of camomille tea. Splinter made the tea then, hoping the natural essence of the tea would help calm him. Or something.

“You left the living room around 2.” Donnie responded. At Mikey’s confused expression, the older of the two took a breath. “It’s almost 7.”

Mikey took the mug away from his mouth slowly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Donnie replied. “So, uh, good news and bad news. If you want to hear it?”

“Sure.” Mikey replied, shrugging. “Good news first?”

Donnie readjusted his legs. “I burned that movie you were watching onto a DVD for you. It’s in my lab so Leo and Raph can’t get at it.”

Mikey huffed a heavy laugh out, some of the weight in his chest leaving with it. “And the bad news?”

“Uh, well,” Donnie replied, scratching the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s actually bad news, I actually think it’ll help. In the long run, I mean, but I know this isn’t exactly what you wanted --”

“Donnie.” Michelangelo rested his head on the other’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Donatello took a breath before resting his own head on Mikey’s. “While Master Splinter was, uh, disciplining Raph and Leo, he let them know about the panic. The panic disorder, that is. They kind of looked like he kicked a puppy.” Mikey didn’t know what to say, taking a deep breath. “How’re you feeling, Mike?”

“I don’t know.” He replied. “I don’t think I’ve actually absorbed the information yet. I guess I’m just gonna see how it goes. Not like I have a choice at the moment.” When Donnie opened his mouth to reply, there was a knock at Mikey’s door, to which neither brother replied, too startled. At the lack of reply, the knock repeated, a little louder this time. “Cm’in!” Mikey called, figuring Master Splinter was already back from paternally filetting the eldest of his brothers.

Instead, it was Leonardo, followed closely by a somewhat awkward-looking Raphael, who didn’t seem to want to look anywhere but the floor. Mikey straightened his back, but was able to do little else before Leo spoke.

“I’m sorry.” That was what he started with. “I hadn’t realized that all the fighting was affecting you so -- so profoundly. And I should have -- but even then, I’m sorry.” There was a beat of silence before Leo elbowed Raph’s side.

Raph took a breath before meeting Michelangelo’s eyes. “I’m sorry too. I know I give you shell, but -- I still care about you, little brother. So, uh, don’t be nervous about, uh -- y’know -- coming to me or us when you, uh -- when you’re not feeling good? Or you’re panicking, I guess?” Leo gave him an exasperated expression that Raph pointedly ignored in favour of looking at Mikey’s relieved expression.

In spite of his quickly-approaching wall of tiredness, Mikey raised himself to his feet, bringing Leo and Raph into a big hug. “Awww, you dudes do care!” He snarked. “Thanks, you guys.” Mikey could hear Raph mutter something beneath his breath, but the other still accepted the hug nonetheless. 

“As heartwarming as this is, Mikey looks dead on his feet.” Donnie supplied from behind the youngest. “These things take a lot out of someone, you know. How about we let him get a nap in, and then we can all have a nice long sit-down about everything, ok?”

Before Mikey knew it, his eyes were drooping and he was on his bed, comforter placed back on him and with three older brothers who wished him a good afternoon nap but none of them looked like they wanted to leave his side. Silently, he lifted the blanket up, not surprised when all three of them dove under with him.

Yeah, maybe this could be a good thing.