The Words That Hurt Me

One is the lonliest number

Mikey was cold.

He felt his body move to wrap the blanket tighter around himself in a vain effort to chase away the chill. His mind was split between the dream world and the heaviness of his torso and legs, vaguely aware of reality and dream. He didn't know which he preferred.

His eyes opened slowly to the dark room, light crawling in beneath his door. With his dreams escaping him, Mikey chose to wake up.

He slipped from beneath the covers and made to put his gear on, wiping the sleep from his eyes and swiftly tying his orange mask behind his head.

Mikey stepped out into the bright light of the lair, groaning while his eyes tried to adjust. He heard a laugh.

"Mornin' shell head, you finally decided to get up?"

Mikey squinted at the red clad turtle, who had called to him from the half broken sofa. Mikey stuck his tongue out and made for the bathroom.

Raph laughed.

"Don't fall asleep in there!"

Mikey grumbled in response, the feeling of morning making him drag his legs behind him. He quietly sighed, missing the times he woke up refreshed, being the first one in the kitchen, first on the TV, first to laugh at his groggy brothers.

He doesn't know why he's so tired.

With the bathroom necessities dealt with, Mikey stumbled toward the kitchen. Plastering a smile on his face, he entered.

Breakfast was filling the room with a heavenly scent, and looked even tastier, especially when compared to what the turtle teen had to eat long ago. Luckily, April was the one who cooked this morning.

"Man, what's for breakfast? I'm starving!" Mikey half shouted. The red-head turned.

"Good morning, Mikey. You slept in pretty late today, huh?" April turned back to the stove. "I didn't do much, just made some pancakes. Oh, and Leo said to send you to the dojo after you had something to eat."

Mikey sat with a scowl. He hadn't checked the time yet, but he was guessing he was pretty late. Well, later than usual. It seemed that no matter how early he went to bed, he still overslept. He frowned.

Concentration didn't come easy to him, never did. He's forgetful and can't focus on anything for more than three minutes. Unless it's something that's really interesting, then he'll focus on that thing really hard for a few hours, hard enough that he forgets to take care of himself. He recalls some of the rude ways his brothers snapped him back to reality when he got into one of those states.

Speaking of, the clacking of a plate of pancakes in front of him returns his attention to April.

She looks at him with slight worry creasing her brow. Mikey remembers that he usually isn't this quiet, ever. Before she can say anything, the mutant turtle smiles brightly and thanks her for the food. He sees relief relax the red-heads face as he dug into his meal.

She probably thinks he's still waking up.

Mikey buries the thoughts on his confusing behavior and animatedly clears his plate, mostly to show April he's fine.

April leaves after he finishes, saying something about organizing her shelves at home. He was too busy cleaning his dishes to fully listen.

The morning officially shaken off, Mikey trots towards the dojo, slightly afraid of the grueling exercise that may await him. Leo was not kind when it came to training.

Which is why Mikey was surprised when he found the dojo to be empty of any training equipment. And Leo. He suddenly felt a sense of dread, was this stealth training? Was he going to be attacked upon entering?