Chapter Text
“How long will you be away?” Sam asked Bumblebee.
The yellow Camaro was parked in the garage and had just told the boy that he had to leave the city for a while and join the Autobots. Sam had asked his extraterrestrial friend about it so many times, that he knew by heart the answer that would play over the radio.
“~You don’t have to be afraid, baby, I’m not leaving forever,” came the reply, which he already knew by heart. If nothing else, at least Bee looked remorseful enough.
Sam sighed and turned away to rotate a dusty object on one of the shelves in the garage. He frowned. He really should clean out the garage one of these days.
The Autobot noticed the hurt expression on the boy’s face and began to transform. Metal shifted and folded with careful precision, the familiar sound oddly comforting. The cramped space didn’t make it easy for him, but he had practiced often enough to complete the maneuver without knocking anything over.
“~Tell me what’s wrong, oh…”
“Nothing,” Sam snapped. Too quickly.
Whenever Bee had to leave, he was always afraid he wouldn’t come back. Not because he might get killed—though that fear wouldn’t have been unfounded either. What he really feared was that Bee would grow tired of his teenage drama and his humanity and choose to stay with the Autobots for good.
The thought terrified him—not just because he would lose his best friend. Mikaela’s father had been released from prison, so they had moved to another city. Miles hadn’t been an exception either; he had only been there for a year as an exchange student and had to return to Chile. It seemed like everyone was leaving him. But Bee was more important—maybe more important than just a friend.
Sam startled as Bee gently nudged his back with one finger. He turned to face him.
“You can tell me anything,” Bee said. His voice no longer music or staticy radio stations, but steady and warm.
“I just… I’m going to miss you,” Sam said, reaching up to touch Bee’s face. “You know I love you… buddy,” he finally managed, then lightly smacked his friend on both cheeks. He grinned, hiding how much more that word meant than it had six months ago. Sam blushed and turned away. “So why do you have to go?” he asked. Because if he kept touching him, he might ask something else he couldn’t take back.
“We’ve detected Decepticon activity in several states.” Bumblebee switched to his repaired voice. “They’re giving off suspiciously strong signals.”
“I thought they were called Decepticons because they’re supposed to hide and trick everyone, not broadcast their presence,” Sam said, stepping back so his neck wouldn’t start hurting from looking up so much—even though Bee was kneeling, hunched over just to fit inside the garage.
“Unless they’re up to something,” Bee replied seriously. “Sam, I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“I know. Be careful,” Sam smiled. He tried to make it look easy. Normal.
Bumblebee nodded and transformed. The boy walked out of the garage and stepped aside to give him enough space to turn around. The fading rumble of the engine felt louder than the silence that followed. Five minutes later, Sam was standing alone in the yard.
In his mind, he banged his head against the nearest wall. If only he could say it differently—admit that he felt more for the alien than simple friendship. But he was too much of a coward. When it came to feelings, he was afraid of rejection; when it came to the fact that they weren’t even the same species, he knew what he wanted was probably impossible. Impossible didn’t stop it from hurting.
He shook his head and cast one last longing glance down the road where he had last seen his friend, then turned and headed back inside to clean up the garage. The dust suddenly felt easier to deal with than his own thoughts.