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Optimus rested his helm on the medical berth, clutching the small, bloodied servo tighter. Bumblebee looked so small under the blanket and in a bed made for two. Bandages covered his protoform but Energon still leaked through ever so slightly. Optimus’ servos had dried Energon clinging to his metal, evidence of him frantically trying to press his kid’s wound close. He genuinely thought Bee was going to die, and he did, for about ten kliks. The scariest ten kilks of his life. The room was dark. So dark he couldn’t even see Bee’s dulled yellow armor. Good.
He didn’t have to see that disgusting weld covering the majority of his throatpipe.
A sob escaped his throat. Megatron had ripped his vocalizer out and left him to die. His kid. His sweet, little Bumblebee. The youngling was never going to speak again. At least, not in glyphs. Ratchet had installed a makeshift voicebox, but no one knew if it was going to work or not. What was going to happen, now that Bumblebee was semi-mute? Optimus didn’t know, and he spent the entire night thinking about it. Was it the entire night? It felt a little longer than that…
Optimus lifted his helm, wiping away tears both new and old. He looked at his chronometer only to find that it’s been three days. Three days since Bumblebee came out of surgery. Three days of crying, blood, grief, anger. Optimus sighed shakily, looking at his unconscious son. He looked so peaceful. A comm came though.
::Optimus Prime, this is Ratchet. Just wanted an update.::
Optimus lifted a servo to his audial, “Bumblebee is still unconscious, old friend. I fear it will be a while until he wakes up.”
A huff, then the medic responded, ::I meant on you, Prime.::
“...Me?” Optimus replied dumbly, looking at his frame. It was fairly fine, covered in dried Energon from the battle three days ago, but the gashes on his arms were new. Messy lines on his protoform, bleeding out onto his thighs and his berth. His claws were a good way to let out some steam, but the bleeding hadn’t stopped. He knew he should go to Ratchet about this, but he honestly didn’t want it to stop. The pain was so addicting… It couldn’t hurt if… he, just…
Optimus dragged his claw over his protoform, relishing in the sting. Energon bubbled up and dripped down. It was so hypnotizing. If Bumblebee wasn’t in the room with him, unconscious or not, he would’ve curled up in a corner and slid his claws over his protoform. His comm crackled.
::Optimus?::
“I-I’m fine, Ratchet. Do not worry about me.”