Work Text:
All Know The Face
Of The Jester.
Know His Place,
His Laugh And Smile.
All Know The Aims
Of The Jester.
Know His Claim
Is Joy And Light.
All Know The Mask
Of The Jester.
Know His Task,
Not His Heart.
None Know The Soul
Of The Jester.
None Can Control,
The Heart Deep Down.
For None Is More
Of False Renown,
Than Those Who Wear,
The Jesters Crown.
Mikey liked to think he knew himself pretty well.
He always tried to understand himself, his feelings and ideas and thoughts. He knew what he liked and disliked and why it wasn’t the other way around.
Pizza was his favorite because it always brought him back to that first moment, seeing the city for the first time and trying something new. Vases were neat because they reminded him of the mutagen canister that symbolized their life. Mushrooms were iffy because sometimes he couldn’t eat them without recalling his worst fears staring back at him. He hated pop rocks because every pop in his mouth made him think of grenades and battles and bombs.
He liked helping out because he enjoyed making things easier for his brothers and friends, and he liked feeling useful. He hated being bored because then his energy would build up until he felt like he would scream.
He knew himself, and he thought that his brothers did too. But now… he wasn’t so sure.
They all treated him like a roadblock. They acted like he was stupid. They seemed to think he was in the way, some comic relief character in their lives that didn’t really matter in the long run. They acted like he was an incompotent fool who couldn’t fight or think.
Mikey knew he was a bit spacey, and he knew he had messed up sometimes, but he didn’t know why they were so set on it. Well, he hadn’t. Not until he thought about it for a few days, stayed up late and wondered. It was his role.
It was his role in the team. He wasn’t a comic relief, not exactly- and definitely not how his brothers thought of him. But what he was was a relief. He knew what made his brothers tick, he knew their habits and feelings and he knew just how to get under their skin. He also knew how to get them to relax, to smile, to take breaks. He knew how to get Raph to snap and how to curve his anger into a release that wouldn’t leave much damaged. He knew how to get Leo to stop taking things so seriously. He knew hope to get Donnie to take breaks and take care of himself.
But he was beginning to realize that he had fallen so hard into his role that he was losing himself. And his brothers had forgotten he was anything else.
They thought he was stupid. Sure, he wasn't the brightest; that was Donnie. But he wasn’t a moron. But he asked more questions than needed, ones he knew the answer to but would lighten the room. He enjoyed kids cartoons and comics, because they were honestly good. He had so much energy bursting inside him that he couldn't sit still, but that should be fine. He didn’t know why they didn’t think it was fine.
They thought he couldn’t fight. He could; he could probably beat them in a duel, one on one. But they didn’t know that. He never gave it his all in training, because he didn’t quite see the point. And besides, it would just make them angry if they lost.
They thought he was naive, unfocused, and he hated it.
He didn’t know what to do. He couldn't just stop faking it now- he didn’t even know when he had started putting up this front. He’d just… done it, more and more, and now he just couldn't do anything else. He tried. He tried so hard, but every time he went to speak his throat closed up and his tongue tied into knots, tangling his words into unintelligible sludge that only cemented what they thought they knew. When he tried to fight them to the best of his ability, his muscles froze up.
He felt like he was trapped in his own body, his own mind. He wanted to scream and shout and prove he was better than this, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure how.
Oh how heavy is the brow, of those who wear the Jester's Crown.