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Bonus Chapter 3: Compression Gloves

     New York, 2021  

      ~Normal POV~

     I shot up in the bed, hand reaching out to feel if anyone was there. My breaths were quickened and sweat stuck my tank top to my body. My sweatpants were uneven, I could feel one cuff higher around my calf than the other.

     I could hear arguing in another room but was more focused on making my breathing even than whatever was going on. When I couldn't feel the body of the soft-shelled turtle, I leaned further across the bed for the special-made visor.

     I blinked a few times as I tried to adjust to the purple-hued vision. My eyes traced the room, the holographic screen tracking what I looked at to make everything clearer. The visor was still a prototype, there were glitches here and there, but I was always sure to let Donnie know if I found one.

     My foot made contact with the cold concrete of the train station as I stood to get out of bed. I peeked my head around the corner, the visor recognizing Donnie and Leo as the two turtles that were arguing, but I could tell it wasn't anything serious. My gaze flickered to the TV that was playing a Jupiter Jim rerun and that's what they were going on about.

     I let out a sigh and headed toward Mikey's room wondering if he would be up and working on a new art piece. I stepped into the room the box turtle had claimed as his own and heard a crumpling noise as my foot planted onto something.

     I squinted as the visor picked up that it was a piece of paper. I crouched down and picked up the page, unraveling it to see scribbles over a messy sketch. I looked further into the room, seeing the youngest turtle clenching a pencil as he glared down at another paper in front of him.

     "Mikey?" I called to the boy softly and he jumped at my sudden voice. "Is everything all right?" I stepped further into the room, freezing at the sniffles that escaped the boy. "Mike?"

     He didn't respond and I started walking again, eyes tracing the room and picking up the many crumpled-up pages that scattered along the ground and piling into the trash bin beside his drawing desk.

     "It's useless," he muttered when I was close enough to hear him. He dropped the pencil and spun to face me. He raised his arms out to me, golden scars from opening the portal crackled up his arms. There were tremors, some stronger than others, and his fingers would twitch at random. "I can't draw anything anymore. I'll never be able to finish our mural."

     Right, the family mural. . . He had been talking about adding Casey Junior to the mural but hadn't gotten a sketch up of what he wanted the boy to look like or where on the mural he would go.

     "Mikey," I spoke softly, my hands reaching up to hold onto his. I could feel the shaking in his fingers as he tried to wrap them around mine. "Why didn't you say anything? Come with me," I tugged the boy out of the chair as he quieted his sniffles so he wouldn't alert his brothers as we exited his room.

     We snuck into Donnie's lab, heading to a small area where we kept the tech he crafted for me. I pulled open a drawer, spotting the old compression wraps he made before the gloves and socks I wore now.

     "Sit," I gestured to the swivel chair not too far away as I pulled out two of the wraps. There were in a compartment labeled 'arms' while the other was labeled 'legs.' I lifted one of his arms and began to ravel the material around it tightly, but not enough to cut off circulation.

     "If you told me sooner, I could have let Donnie know to whip up more of these bad boys," I showed off the properly made gloves on my hand and wrist as opposed to the bandage I was wrapping on his.

     "Unfortunately, these might not help too much with your fingers,' I hummed as I swapped which arm I was working on. "If you'd like, I can let Donnie know in the morning to make more gloves. If this is affecting you, I have no doubt it's affecting him and Raph as well."

     "Oh, you don't have to do that," the box turtle said sweetly, looking to the side instead of at the wraps like he had been.

     "Mikey, you know how much Donnie likes to make his tech to help us," I dropped his arm and turned his head to face me. "He wants to see his little brother do what makes him happy. He won't mind making you a pair."

     "I know," the boy leaned into my hand with a smile. He loved the affection seeing as he didn't get much. On bad days, Mikey cooped up in his room so he wouldn't bother his brothers. He let others talk to him about their feelings, not the other way around. "I just don't wanna burden him, especially if the same thing is happening to him."

     "Mikey, we want to see you being happy," I told him gently. "If you don't let him make you some proper gloves, I'm giving you mine," I lightly threatened the boy.

     "Okay, okay," he laughed lightly, a grateful smile spreading on his lips. "But in the morning, I don't want him up all night working on gloves for me," the turtle told me and I nodded.

     "You got it," I pulled him up. "How do they feel?" I asked as we snuck back toward the orange turtle's room.

     "They feel nice," he whispered back. "We'll see how they feel to draw with," he said and we ducked back into his room. The box turtle sat in his chair and I leaned over his shell, much like I would do when Donnie was working. The mutant picked up the pencil he was clutching with frustration earlier, testing how it felt in his freshly bandaged hands.

     He pressed the graphite against the sketchpad that sat in the middle of the desk, carefully trying to sketch out Casey from the picture pulled up on his phone. The lines were less jagged and messy and the boy didn't seem as upset as he was earlier.

     Maybe half an hour had passed and the boy put the pencil down. It took him longer to sketch than it normally would, but he was being careful and not forcing himself to work fast than he thought he could.

     "It looks great, Mikey," I complimented the sketch. "I'm sure Casey would love it," I saw the grin spreading on his lips from the corner of my eye.

     "Thanks, Y/n," he smiled down at his work, proud he created something after who knows how long of crumpling up pages out of frustration with himself.

     "Anytime. Just, next time, let me know when something's upsetting you or you're having an issue," I told the box turtle. "I'm always happy to help out. No matter what it is."

     (((((Word Count: 1,196. Okay, happy chapter for y'all. Funny story, my aunt gave me a gift with a green ribbon on it, so obviously I'm keeping it. Anyway, happy holidays, this is all I'm doing for the day, methinks.)))))