Chapter Text
Mikey was finally, finally starting to feel more comfortable with his mystics again. Draxum’s trick of using it around the house more often was working quite well, actually - he’d gotten to the point where he could lift small object without the violin. He could put away the dishes with his mind!
He was still a bit hesitant to use them as much around his family, but when he was training or just by himself, Mikey was learning quickly. It involved a lot of hard talks and a painful amount of standing or sitting still, but it was starting to work.
It was still pretty slow, though. The box turtle had to keep reminding himself that it was okay that it was taking so much time.
He could still feel a little impatient though, right?
Mikey was sitting on the living room floor, a glare fixated on a particularly normal looking pencil. He was trying to pick it up with his mystics, but for some reason this specific pencil had a habit of being very stubborn when it came to his mystic training. It had been sharpened down to half a pencil’s normal length, and the eraser was missing. Why this one pencil seemed to hate being moved by anything that wasn’t his hands, Mikey was not sure.
The box turtle chirred at it in irritation, before refocusing his thoughts to lifting the pencil. It was going to fly today , and the pencil would have no say in the matter, because it was a pencil and he could lift other pencils easier than this.
“Is that pencil still giving you trouble?” Donnie asked, popping up behind him.
“Uh… maybe? Yeah, it’s being annoying.”
Mikey could hear his older brother rolling his eyes. “It can’t be annoying, it’s not sentient."
The softshell crouched down next to him, observing the pencil carefully. Mikey stifled a giggle at how serious his older brother’s expression was, like he could incinerate it with simply the power of his glare.
“I think it’s holding a grudge against me for some reason,” Mikey joked, rolling it on the floor a bit. “Which is wild, because I treat my drawing supplies with utmost care and respect!”
Donnie snorted, observing it more closely. “Actually, maybe it is sentient. Isn’t this the same pencil you broke way back in Chapter 1?”
Immediate confusion clouded Mikey’s brain. Donnie had a habit of saying stuff like he was breaking the fourth wall, but this one hit some kind of bell in his brain that he couldn’t pin down. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry about it,” the softshell dismissed. “It may be irritated that you broke it.”
“You just said pencils aren’t sentient, though.”
“Hush, dear Angelo, we shall never know,” Donnie said, tapping his shell - the prosthetic piece - lightly. “The day you can lift the hostile pencil is the day it forfeits its battle with your willpower.”
Mikey couldn’t help giggling now, any concentration he’d had on lifting the pencil evaporating in an instant. Donnie followed suit, and the two dissolved into a laughing fit on the living room floor. It rang through the Lair, echoing gleefully through the halls of the subway station and carrying through every room and every hallway. It was a sound that the Lair hadn’t heard in a long time.
Their laughter seemed to be attracting people into the living room, and soon enough someone was poking their head in to see what was going on.
“And what’re you two cackling about?” Leo called from one doorway, Casey Jr poking his head out next to the slider. “Was it a meme?”
“I still don’t know what that is,” Casey Jr piped up.
“No, no,” Mikey managed to get out between the giggles. “We’re discussing the fate of The Pencil.”
“What on Earth?” Leo asked, walking into the room and sitting down next to them. Casey followed, but he didn’t sit down, instead choosing to stand
Mikey held out one hand, although his laughter was making it hard to focus on actually moving the pencil. “I’m trying to lift it, right? I’ve been trying with this one pencil for weeks , it won’t move!”
Leo snorted as the pencil didn’t move, proving Mikey’s point rather effectively.
“Wait, that looks like my Michelangelo’s pencil!” Casey yelped. “It was the one thing he couldn’t lift for the life of him!”
“NO WAY, IT MADE IT INTO THE FUTURE?” Donnie yelled, doubling over further. Leo burst out laughing as well, and by this point Mikey was crying with laughter and still trying to move the stupid pencil.
“WHY IS IT SO STUBBORN?” Mikey gasped between wheezes, trying to concentrate on lifting it, but it would not budge an inch. Leo cackled like a maniac, flopping backward onto the floor and accidentally taking Casey Jr with him, which only resulted in more laughter from everyone.
“What is going on in here?” April yelled, having just walked in with Raph, who saw nothing but a mess of wheezing teenagers on the ground surrounding a rather normal looking pencil.
“The pencil won’t move!” Donnie tried to explain, but he was laughing too hard to properly articulate anything. “It won’t fucking move , dude!”
“I swear I’m trying!” Mikey yelped back, another attempt failing as he heard Raph snort and try to keep some kind of composure.
“HOW,” was all April could say.
By now the entire family had dissolved into laughter, the air itself alive with their joy as the sun shone down from one of the staircase windows. It bathed the room in warmth, settling over them like a gentle blanket.
Mikey was actually crying with laughter now - tears were rolling down his face as he tried desperately to catch his breath and sit up. But nope, the box turtle seemed to be permanently stuck on the floor now, all because he was laughing too hard.
He managed to pull himself back up (after a LOT of effort and falling backward again) and Mikey tried to blink away the tears in his eyes.
Something fluttered close to his face, the soft sound rippling through the air around them.
Mikey’s eyes opened, a small flash of panic sparking in his mind, before the whole world seemed to pause.
There was a butterfly on his face. It was a monarch, colorful orange wings batting gently as it skittered over and settled near his eye. The laughter went silent as he looked away, to see everyone staring at the ceiling and walls in awe.
Monarch butterflies were everywhere.
They clung to the pipes, the brickwork, the fairy light strands that arced across their ceilings, a massive flurry of orange and black almost looking like leaves in the fall. Some were flapping about, drifting from wall to wall; others were swooping low nearby the turtles, some landing on their arms and faces, settling there for a good moment before flying off again. Mikeys own butterfly took off to rejoin the swarm, and another two landed to replace it.
“Woah,” Leo gasped softly, sitting up and gazing at the shimmering waves of orange that now decorated their ceiling.
“It’s not their migration season, is it?” April whispered.
“I don’t believe so,” Donnie answered, just as softly as a butterfly landed squarely on the tip of his snout.
Mikey hear a bit of sniffling off to his left, and saw Casey Jr tearing up with a smile on his face.
“You good, Casey?” he asked quietly, trying not to startle the butterflies on his face. They seemed to like it there, settling almost warmly on his face.
“Y-yeah,” the boy muttered, watching as wings swarmed his hands. “I just… I’ve never seen butterflies before. They’re even more beautiful than I thought they would be.”
Leo grinned, gently elbowing him. “And these are only the orange ones. There’s so many other colors.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. They come in every color imaginable.”
Mikey smiled again as butterflies scampered over his mask, a couple of their wings nearly covering his eyes. “This is so sick, dude.”
“Raph could get used to this,” April joked, pointing a thumb toward the snapper. He was looking at the butterflies in complete admiration and surprise, and Mikey half remembered how most animals didn’t like going near him. This was probably one of the best days of Raph’s existence, if the look on his face was anything to go by.
“But why are they here?” Donnie questioned quietly. “They’re nowhere near their time of year for migrating, but-”
“Donnie, shush,” Leo said. “How about we figure out the why later, after we enjoy the now, m’kay?”
The softshell looked like he was about to protest, but another butterfly landed on his snout and seemed to give him the most pleading stare an insect could give. Mikey couldn’t contain more giggles as his older brother sighed in resignation.
“I’m still gonna figure out the why later,” Donnie muttered.
“Good luck with that,” Leo said, grinning at him casually. “I don’t think the swarm’s gonna stick around long enough for you to find out.”
More butterflies landed on Mikey’s hands, and he carefully tuned out his brothers to watch them. They fluttered on the edges of his fingers, their antennae waving around curiously, some of them even seeming to stare back at him with wide, dark eyes. Flashes of orange and black shimmered all throughout his vision, and without thinking, Mikey took hold of the mystic spark.
Magical lines danced between his hands, tiny orbs of light swirling gently around the butterflies, before shaping into one that looked just like the monarchs resting on his hands. Golden wings joined the cluster of orange, and it peered back at him curiously while he watched it.
Mikey did not mind as much this time, when the mystic power multiplied, and a few more scattered golden butterflies appeared among the clusters of real ones. Nor did he care as much when little orbs of floating light started dancing about the space, brightening the Lair as much as the sunlight pouring in did.
The box turtle smiled at the one in his hands, and it flapped its wings back at him. Delight was the only thing he could process as it flapped out of his hands and joined the rest of the butterflies, nestling naturally among the melting pot of warm color.
A strange feeling of peace washed through him as he watched his own mystic butterflies settle in, like they were meant to be there, and an arm settled over his shoulder. Leo was leaning on him, watching the swarm as well.
Eventually, they were half turtle-piled on the floor, just watching and enjoying the moment. Mikey nestled in with his brothers, the familiar safety and calm settling perfectly into his mind the way it should be.
It would take time to get used to this again.
But it would be okay.
Mikey knew that.