Waking up alone hurt the most.
Sure, the insults men and women hurled at him were painful, his inability to find a steady job gnawed away at his insides in the form of anxiety and constant worry, and his longing to just be accepted by someone howled as his insides writhed in agony, but he always looked at the empty pillow next to him forlornly every morning and struggled to find enough strength to get up.
His knee ached as soon as he stood, wobbling as he rose to his feet, two hands behind him pushing on the uncomfortable mattress to help him start the day. The long day of hunting for a job. For the last week, he had been unsuccessful, and his stomach grumbled terribly that morning. He could barely afford the rent, let alone three meals a day.
Once upon a time, his father had encouraged him to join the military. "If you want to be a man," he'd said, "You'll learn to take a beating like a man. But more importantly, you'll learn to dish one out like a good warrior should."
And what did he have to show for it now?
Dedicated service for the better part of his life, and for what? A tarnished name, and an empty stomach? His mother had already sold everything of his father's belongings and fled. She was lucky that everyone had forgotten about her. Him? He was a war criminal.
This grim train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. A disposable flip phone with only a few numbers programmed in. He pressed the answer key, and brought it up to his ear. "It's me,"
"Hey, my man, how you doing?" the man on the other end of the phone said cheerily, "It was so hard tracking you down again. Friend of a friend got your number for me. I've been missing you, big brother!"
"Roddy," he frowned to himself, limping over to the bathroom and staggering when he missed the counter in front of him. "What do you want?"
"Well, I heard you called it quits with that fancy suit uptown. That's the whole reason you left, right? Well, my buddies and I were thinking-"
The dark-haired man cleared his throat loudly, feeling his bitterness come rushing back to the surface. "I'm gonna stop you right there. I don't want any part of it. I'm clean. I'm done. I'm working. Really working now, Roddy,"
"Well, I know that you's trying, but I heard you's not doing so well,"
"I'm doing fine," he lied, gritting his teeth furiously as he reached for a towel under the sink, "Don't know what garbage you listening to, but I never been better,"
His brother laughed, brushing off the lie like it was nothing. "Right," he snorted, "Lemme tell you, brother. It ain't about you. It's about family. And I take care of my family, even when they don't take care of me. The war might be over, he might be gone, but that doesn't mean we hafta lose one another too, know what I'm getting at?"
The aching man scoffed, "I know exactly what you're getting at,"
"Aw, come on now, don't be like that!"
"I be how I like. Get out while you still can, little brother. It don't mean I don't care bout you. I do. It's why I won't watch you do to you what he did to him,"
"Bee, don't you hang up on me! We're all each other has, Bee! Bee? Answer me!" Despite his brother's protests, Bumblebee sighed miserably, snapping the phone closed and settling in the small bathroom. A brace was tucked into a corner, the paint peeling off in odd places, and a few too many wrappings of duct tape around a couple parts.
Time to really start the day.
He knew from the moment the manager's face fell, he wouldn't get the job. People were staring, and his heart ached at the realization that his dreams might never come to life, and his stomach wouldn't stop hurting. In the back office, he twiddled his thumbs, waiting for the man to say something. "So you fought in the war?"
"Yes, sir. It's why I need this job so badly. There aren't a lot of places for a crippled solider. I promise, I work hard. I just want to make an honest living. I won't even show my face, sir. I'll work extra hours for no pay, I just gotta get it all together,"
"What side?"
"Excuse me?" His blood pounded in his ears and he trembled fiercely.
"What side did you fight on?"
"Ah-" he winced, "Bot, for a time. But I'm not like they all say I'd be like. I promise, I just want to work, and to help people. That's all I ever wanted."
"I don't know about this, Mister Pax."
"I promise I won't cause any trouble. I can make bread, I can clean; I can cook like you wouldn't believe,"
"Well, there are other candidates. We'll have to discuss it further if everything checks out,"
"Of course, sir. I'd expect nothing less. I just want to help out, pay my rent, contribute to society. Everyone's hurting still, and I want it to get better,"
"Say, do I know you?"
He couldn't help his face from scrunching up, "Well, I don't think we've met before, sir," he managed to say dejectedly. Uh oh. This was always where things went haywire. He'd never get the job now, not with that lurking feeling in the back of the manager's mind that something wasn't right about him.
"No, of course not," he nodded firmly, sandy blonde hair pushed behind his ear as he eyed Bumblebee with a curiosity in his eyes that made the former bot twitch a little. If he wasn't nervous, he didn't know what he was. "I'll give you a call then, let you know about any future meetings,"
"Thank you," Bumblebee breathed, one calloused hand reaching for the nicely dressed man's smoother palm, shaking it reverently. Maybe this time would be different, he hoped, offering a sincere smile. "I really appreciate you taking the time to speak with me,"
"You take care now, Prime," the manager said, only to see the smile fall right off his face, him wincing and eyes filling with hurt and agony.
"It's actually Pax," he corrected gently, and it was then the shorter man realized his mistake.
"Oh." he shook his head, his smile also vanishing rather quickly. "I apologize then."
"I really don't mean any harm-"
"I think it's time for you to leave," the now scowling manager said tersely, "This interview is over."
Experience had taught him better than to protest, and dejectedly, head hung as he backed away and to the door, the once proud warrior shuffled out of the room, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, not bothering to hide the limp and aching pain he felt with every step.
Still, he begged and prayed to whoever could have been listening that maybe the next interview would go better.
The sun had set maybe an hour beforehand, and streetlamps offered brief hints of what daylight would be like on small patches of the street. All in all, the job hunt had been unsuccessful. Misery had set up camp deep within him, pitching tents and carving marks on his insides as he fought off the burning pain that came with an improperly healed leg. Another reason to need a job. He couldn't afford the surgeries, or the doctors, to even think about getting back into shape. Physical therapy? It would be a whole other nightmare. War criminals didn't get military benefits.
That had been something else they'd fought about. His lover had begged him to get help, but Bumblebee refused.
"You're not my checking account! I'll get it looked at when I can afford it!" he insisted, glowering at the hurting man before him.
Electric blue hair was in disarray, and the medical student only seemed to grow more upset. "I'm looking at it right now, Bee! Something is wrong! You are not okay, you're in pain, and if you don't get this taken care of, you're going to hurt for a lot longer than every time you strain yourself!"
"I don't know what part of, 'I'm fine,' got lost in translation, so I'll say it again. I don't need you to fork out money you don't have to take care of me all the time! You're important too! You need to take care of yourself before you worry about me,"
"Bumblebee!" Oh, man, he was upset about this. Knockout never used his name like that unless he was really peeved, but to be honest, the doctor-in-training looked a little more like he was on the verge of tears.
"Babe, I'm fine!"
"I can't just stand here and watch you do this to yourself,"
"I didn't do this. You think this is my fault? It's nobody's fault, it just happens in war!"
"We're not in war anymore, Bee! Please, I know some specialists who would fit you in their schedules as a favor to me. Darling Bee, I just want to help,"
"Oh yeah? And how many favors would it take for them to figure out what's wrong with me? How many people would you owe it to for trying to fix me? Poor broken Bumblebee! Can't even tie his own shoe without shaking and hurting!"
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Seeing you in pain is agonizing to me. I just want you to be able to live, because if you keep going on like this, you won't!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you'll struggle for the rest of your life. Please let me help you. It's all that matters. I only need to see you okay."
Knockout had won that round, and he'd ended up with the same brace that he was trudging along in now. His boyfriend had been right, and some part of him had always known it, but he'd been too afraid to really listen. If there was something wrong with him, then he couldn't take care of himself. If he couldn't take care of himself, someone else would have to do it. If someone else was burdened with his problems, they'd grow resentful, and leave him. And if he was alone…
Well, he didn't need to think about what ifs this time around. His big-hearted boyfriend was long gone and getting stuck on the past wouldn't fill his stomach. Maybe the dumpster behind the bakery might have something to last him the night. You never really knew at this point.
Maybe Rodimus had been right? His brother's new lover knew all kinds of things about the criminal underworld, and had lots of powerful connections with underground societies and the like. His little brother might have had the right idea after all. He could get the money he needed for the medical treatments and- Oh, who was he kidding. Once he got into the business, he'd never get out. He'd be under his father's thumb forever. Oh, Dad, he thought miserably. As overbearing dead as you were when you were still alive.
That had been a long time ago, and still, he couldn't escape the painful marks of disgrace etched into his skin by his "father" so long ago. He'd never even had a chance as soon as he'd come into the world. Prime had only made sure of that by "saving" him. Bumblebee grimaced, his heart sinking even further as he slowly came to realize exactly what he'd been hoping more than anything else wasn't true. He'd have been better off starving over twenty years ago as a poor, orphaned street rat.
Not for the first time in his life, he wondered who would be so cruel as to save a child and then brand them for the rest of their life, never to escape the towering hatred of, at the very least, many millions of people.
Bumblebee shuddered, the ghost of his father whispering things in his ear, cruel, terrible things that made his skin crawl. "I fed you, boy," the man hissed, "I fed you when no one else would, so don't you forget it!"
Yeah. he thought bitterly. You fed me alright. Fed me to the fucking wolves.
On his way to the local pastry shop, limping and wincing along the way, maybe some ancient force took pity on him, and decided to make a change. To right so many wrongs done to a man struggling to get by. Whatever or whoever it was, they quickly turned his life upside down in a matter of seconds, leaving everything he knew worlds upon worlds away.
It just wasn't fair. His red eyes glistened dangerously, and children scattered, parents trading hands with their young to usher them away, acting as a barrier between them and the scarred warrior. One look, and people ran away screaming. Was that really all the reason people needed? As if in reply, several pets were plucked from the concrete and carried away hastily, and he fought back the hurt that crept up his throat.
It came through anyways. He frowned, looking across the street with sorrowful eyes, the big orbs of color widening further. Blood was splattered across the pavement, children were screaming, a truck was stopped several feet into the intersection, and a limp body laid some distance from the crowd. A distant call of sirens caught his attention, and though his instincts screamed to hurry away, before they tried to pin this on him too, something called him to the fallen man.
He jogged across the street, looking at the murky puddles of reddened water, tainted even some distance away. His new acquaintance appeared to be his size- dressed smartly, with blonde-black hair held up like only hair products could do. It clearly was supposed to have been some night. A phone lit up, screen cracked, and its glass mixed with the remains of headlights, the same blue paint as on the truck smeared across the casing. The image of a smiling redhead greeted his face, eyes closed as he appeared pressed into a blonde- Wait. He inhaled sharply at the photo.
But- it couldn't be. The chances were one in a million. Or, a billion, rather. Still, one hand reached tentatively over to the pavement besides him, moving to get a better glance of the face in the asphalt.
Two lifeless blue eyes greeted him, blood trickling out his nostril, mouth slightly open as he looked forward, seeing everything and nothing.
How? He could only wonder, even if there was no response. Who was this man? Nothing made sense- it was impossible. Panic gripped his heart. Was he finally cracking? Everyone had said it was going to happen, sooner rather than later. That he needed to be locked up, restrained. He wasn't trustworthy. He wasn't even human; rather an animal that had escaped his cage.
Only the sweet, loving, unending support of who had quickly become his life had said otherwise, daring to stand against the others. No one else had been so vocal and stood up for him. Especially without asking. And still, he was staring at something that said entirely different things.
The sirens were getting louder- dammit, he never should have come over here! The scarred man stumbled to his feet, looking back as he rounded the corner to catch a glimpse of a uniformed officer staring at him from the new crime scene, jaw dropping in shock, looking as equally perturbed as he had been just moments prior. "WAIT!" the startled cop cried, reaching out as if that would stop him.
Before the startled man could have gotten to the corner, Bumblebee had fled several blocks further, leaving the demons he had worked so hard to bury chasing after him with inhuman screams that swallowed up the night.