"..."

Y/n sat curled on the edge of her bed, knees drawn up, the soft hum of her room's heater the only sound around her. Outside the window, Jasper's sky was smeared with muted reds and blues, the kind of desert dusk that made the edges of things feel less real.

Her head lolled slightly to the side, supported as always by her hand. Her glowing lenses flickered dimly in the fading light, her posture hunched, feet turned inward against the sheets.

She should've been thinking about school. Or about her foster parents who didn't ask too many questions. Maybe about the strange looks she got in town.

But she wasn't.

Instead, her thoughts drifted elsewhere—to them.

Megatron, whose voice carried the weight of endless violence, but who always looked at her with something oddly thoughtful beneath the fury. Something sharp, yes... but not cruel. Not to her.

Starscream, dramatic and volatile, but oddly fascinating in his own twitchy way. The kind of creature who screeched threats with all the grace of a kicked cat and yet still made her laugh. Even if he didn't mean to.

Soundwave, who never spoke. Who just watched. And somehow, in his silence, understood her mimicry better than any human ever had. He didn't flinch when she repeated words like a recording. He just... observed. Like it made sense to him.

Knockout, fussy and vain, but fun to poke at. The way he tried to keep things pristine in a warship full of wreckage reminded her of herself, in a way. Always patching the broken—appearance first, meaning second.

And Breakdown.

Her friend.

She liked the way he sat beside her without needing words. The way he got it. The way his single optic softened just slightly when he looked at her, even if he tried to hide it under gruff words and awkward gestures.

She'd only been with them a short while.

And yet, as she stared at her hand—unmoving in her lap—Y/n felt something she hadn't felt in years.

Warmth.

No mimicry this time. No words spoken aloud for effect. No giggle forced to fill the silence.

Just her, curling the edge of her oversized sleeve in her fingers and smiling.

A real one.

Small. Crooked. Raw.

She blinked slowly. Her lenses glowed faintly in the dark.

"...I miss them," she murmured into the quiet.

The feeling settled heavy in her chest, but not painful. Not this time.

For once, she didn't want to forget.

For once, she didn't feel like a burden. Or a mistake.

She smiled again—truer this time.

The first one in years.

Words: 450

Totally not planning something sad :))