Child of Mine.

Fourth Child, Fortunate Child.

MICHELANGELO 2x18.
——————-

Michelangelo would say he was luckier than his brothers, to not crave Splinters love or affection.

He's not sure why, not right now.

He had enough time to figure it out though, he was nine years old—he could figure out why he feels certain ways when he's older.

He's not really sure who the rat is anyways.

He knows to call him 'Pops', but that itself feels weird. Him and 'Pops' don't really interact..at all. Maybe a little smile, or wave—but most of the time...

Nothing.

That was okay, he had plenty of older brothers. Raphael, Donatello, and his almost younger brother—Leonardo!

He doodles the family, four multicolored blobs. He was about to show it when something forgotten rang. Ah, yes, 'Pops'.

He scribbled a blob, labeled it as a 'pops' and ran off, tail happy too flick. He walked past Donnie's room, he peeked in, a confused noise. Donnie was looking at something—he looked a little conflicted and sad.

"P—T—S-D" he whispered to himself, squinting a little too look at the screen. He doesn't know how to say the other words. Mikey grabs a pencil and rips off a piece of the paper—carefully.

He ripped off the 'pops' entirely, he made a huffy sound but wrote the acronym on the backside, before hanging up his torn drawing, looking at it happily.

It was a little broken, but it's okay.

It was still beautiful.

He walked away, looking at the backside of the ripped part, humming. He would look up the word later, P-T-S-D.

—

" O' Sweet thing"

' O' sweet thing,
Did you smile,
Find the sun,
After a-while?

O' sweet thing,
Your gentle song,
Resonates with me,
So sing, O' Sweet. "

Mikey was ten and it was favorite thing to sing, little tunes with nothing important inside them. Maybe he liked drawing and cooking more—

But something about it felt right.

The tunes, the harmony, the lyrics—it felt like it was drowning him in sugar. He wasn't sure if the song he made was an actual one, he just liked singing it.

He sang, drawing an awfully detailed man with his children. He wasn't blissfully as unaware of who 'Pops' was.

He just..didn't care.

Pops was someone who lived in their house and was technically their dad—but otherwise, nothing else. He looked at his drawing.

He softened up the features of the father, not as sunken or drained. No, this was not 'pops' and his character—his characters alway reflects on something, don't they?—

He gently gave the man a snagged tooth, pulling away. Perfect, he smiled,

A brother and his brothers, with life the only thing against them.