Back To You

Chapter 20: Close Call

A/N:  Word count: 8k. Get comfy (:

A streak of blue briskly flew overhead, shooting all over the room with speed the complete opposite of the youngling 'chasing' after it.

Hotshot ran— no, walked after the cube, slow, almost dragging his peds along the polished tiled floor, losing more and more interest in the game as the seconds ticked by.

'The scores are tied with one minute left on the clock!' his processor instinctively went to the usual made-up scenario he played out in his head.

He stopped chasing and stood idly still for a while, lazily following the cube with his optics, watching- waiting, until— instinct kicked in, and he dove to the right, catching the cube as it was about to fly past him.

The scoreboard in his mind counted the catch as a point, and he could almost make out the faint cheering from the imaginary crowd. This was the part where he pretended the sports commentator was narrating his victory:

"And Hotshot scores the winning point..the crowd goes wild...woo!" Except, his monotone voice and halfhearted cheer weren't selling his success. Neither was his less-than-excited body language as he dragged himself over to the bench and slumped his frame enough to lean onto the wall.

He mindlessly fidgeted with the cube, closed his optics, and focused on the sound of..emptiness: nothing but the continuous soft buzzing of the ventilation system and the ceiling fans above, background noise he didn't care for but found strangely comforting as it filled the silent void.

'You won't score any points lounging around like that.'

"Carrier?!" His optics snapped open, and he nearly dropped his cube as he abruptly stood to find her. Except, she wasn't there.

It took him a second to realize her voice had merely been an auditory hallucination, and his earlier demeanor returned. He melted back in his seat, disappointment double what it was before.

This wasn't how he imagined the start of his break would be. He foolishly assumed everything would be perfect from the moment she returned from that last mission, that her missing his graduating ceremony would be the only hitch in his summer plans. He was wrong.

He should've learned by now not to get his hopes up. Every summer was the same; why would this one be any different? Yes, she got a month off each year, but that didn't stop work from getting in the way. Nothing stopped work from getting in the way.

He wished life could return to how it was when he was younger— before his Carrier got that promotion. Back when things were simpler.

Sometimes he wished she would switch jobs, maybe something a little less dangerous and less demanding; that way, she'd have more time for him. 

Was it selfish of him? Yes. At least it was in his mind. He couldn't ask her to throw away her whole career for him, not when her role was crucial in rebuilding their planet. Cybertron needed her, but so did he. He needed his Carrier.

'Its always some new mission.' his frown deepened as the familiar thought echoed in his processor.

His helm lightly banged against the metal wall. All he wanted was to have her attention all to himself for once. No missions or urgent assignments, just him and his Carrier. But he couldn't even get just that.

His servos tensed with pent-up anger, digits pressing into the cube from every side. He was alone. His loose grasp on the cube tightened so much he was sure he'd left a few minor cracks. Again.

He tossed the damaged cube aside and was starting to curl himself into a ball, set on letting his thoughts consume him when the bench started vibrating.