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The mute scout cautiously clutched his throat, absentmindedly thumbing familiar scars. Bold as the day they graced his mesh. Never was he excused from tyranny: their existence assured so. Horrors plagued his mind in recognition of the physical hindrance.
But no, that wasn't what bothered him this moment.
As if on cue, the slow march of heavens sounded; thunder. Bumblebee further shrunk into himself. Oh, how deep his hatred ran. Some claimed it to be comforting but he found no such warmth in the weather of the world. No. Only the stars. The stars, ablaze with great age, fleeting time and tales of the old. Scattered across the jet black abyss of night in a creational dice roll. Only the stars would remain his muse.
But tonight they hid behind shrouds of misery. And what consolation he would've reaped from gentle, prattling rainfall, now buried beneath a cacophony of chaos.
Once more, he attempted to tuck himself away from it all.
"Does your mind grieve you this night, young scout?" Bee gave a jump at the introduction of new presence. He had not observed his leader's entrance; too occupied by the storm to do so.
His room illuminated once again. The scout quivered in anticipation of the clouds' mighty crash.
In turn the Prime's eyes demonstrated newfound understanding.
Optimus moved to rest aside Bee on the berth, the steady sloth of his steps sounding out. "Often you are troubled by such storms, though I am yet to be privy as to why."
Shifting slightly to free space upon the berth, Bumblebee sighed. ":.I'll be sure to tell you should I ever figure it out.:," he bantered lightly.
Optimus' features lent themselves to a slight smile. "Now, now. Perhaps we can enlighten ourselves." He subtly inclined his head, indicative of thanks. "I fear the storm's ambiance bares likeness to that of the battlefield's."
Bee tilted his head in reasoning. He didn't reckon it to be so. Without a doubt, atrocities of war were a punishment to behold. He feared nought would stay his hand; unfairly robbed of a childhood. He had gathered what pathetic growths of personality he attempted to nurture, yet never they ceased to shrivel and dry. His sense of self ever evaded him. The sands of time had scathed his hands senseless with how rapidly they ran, how eagerly he grasped them. War was far from exclusive to the battlefield. It ran rampant in his head, converting all coherence to shrapnel, wreaking havoc to all happiness. Destroying all he cared for. He ached to see its end.
Yet, even though the frantic frenzy of demise spoke volumes in its lethal melody, it was not to blame for his discomfort of the storm. That he knew.
Bee softly shook his head, shifting to lean his back against the wall. His gaze dared to roam that of the sky's. ":.I don't think so.:" Though trauma failed to be courteous, it granted him clear recognition to its specific branch of hurt. Nothing was quite like it. ":.It's a different kind of scary.:"
"I quite adore it all." The Prime lent forward to better view the window. "I feel there is an element of unparalleled majesty about storms such as these. I should like to inquire into their frequency in the future."
":.I don't dare do so.:," Bee's spark stirred at entertaining the theory alone. His frame stiffened.
"Dear me," Optimus spoke gently. Sympathy tugged at the corners of his mouth, drawing a slight grin. He patted Bee's hand with his own, taking care not to startle. "All shall be well."
Though eager to display adolescence, impressing his leader, Bee's emotions took no note of such aspirations. He turned away teary eyes, bowing his head. Of all that'd befallen his spark, a simple spot of rain made his undoing. ":.I'm-.:"
Bee's sentence dissipated, words scattered to the wind, as he gave a jolting cry. Piercing light flooded in the window, humiliating the once peaceful dark of his room. He retreated to safety, burying his head in between his knees.
"Come now, little one." Optimus' arms tenderly encircled Bee's form as the scout sought refuge in his shoulder. "Nothing of the weather can harm you."
":.It's loud.:," he implored.
Optimus gave a slight shake of his head. "That shan't bring you injury."
Bee spun around, turning phoney wrath to the swirling sky. ":.It might deafen me. My spark might stop from fright, or even my optics from overload!.:"
"Hush now. All is well." The Prime gently swayed his charge, akin to that of which he had done during the scout's youth.
Silence overcast conversation, though it was not malevolent. With verbal exchange extinguished, a wordless trading of sentiment took place. The atmosphere was teeming with talk of shared nostalgia and fond memories alike.
Suddenly former claims of an absent childhood were rendered false, an inkling of innocence alight in Bee's mind. He felt his age once again. He felt youth.
A pensive sigh left Optimus. "Shall I tell you what I make of it all?"
":.Okay.:," Bee sniffled, his voice barely qualifying audibility. His parallel to infancy incredulous, the scout fought shame. How many nights had they been in this very way? Ever since his feet could first carry himself, his nights bore semblance to this one.
Bee quietly shuffled to sit beside Optimus, resting his head upon his leader's shoulder.
"All is well, Bumblebee." Optimus scooped an arm around his charge, placing his head over top of the scout's. "And though the sky is seemingly ever starless, guiding light never ceases to lend itself to seeking souls." He patted out a gentle rhythm upon Bee's elbow. "Although you miss the stars, consider this passing storm but a drawn curtain, behind which they better themselves in anticipation of the next viewing. Polished anew, they shall return, ever adorning the universe."
Optimus' dialogue washed over Bee's thoughts, stilling his nerves and steadying his breath. Upon mention of them, he longed once more for the stars' presence. He sighed. ":.I miss nebulae. Nothing is as pretty in the universe.:"
"Often life appears sparse of what we consider beautiful. However, should you adjust your definition of beauty, you shall find the world enchanted by it. All will be ablaze with newfound perfection. Of that, I promise you, little one."
Bee chanced a glance at the still room, patiently awaiting the next lightning bolt. Before long it struck. He payed mind to the channel of light that flowed through his room. Cascading down the walls, blanketing the floor, broadening its opposite; casting clarity upon the shadows. No longer was it a malicious eyesore, rather a bold beam of beauty. Brilliantly bright, as though it was life's very essence.
"Not all in the world is of cruel intent, Bee," the Prime enlightened. "Never are we truly estranged from home."
And Bumblebee couldn't help but liken the rumble of the thunder to that of his leader's voice. Suddenly not all was frightening. Suddenly he knew safety like he once had. As he had done when the very mech he sat with now had cradled him as a sparkling. Had soothed his woes. He sank his head further into Optimus' shoulder. He knew safety.
":.I'm still not keen; they make it hard to catch any sleep and they're annoying and they definitely have a track record of being a bad omen.:," he chirped with slight defiance.
Optimus chuckled adoration in wake of the scout's antics. "Understood, Bumblebee." His eyes slid shut, content. "Understood."