Achan

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⧣₊˚﹒✦₊  ⧣₊˚  𓂃★    ⸝⸝ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊  ⧣₊˚

It was another quiet day in your life.

When you thought life quiet and boring with another daily routine where you go to school and your part-time job, repeating the cycle over and over again, you find yourself in a relationship with an alien.

Yes, a literal alien.

It was... unexpected, but not unwelcomed. His presence brought more warmth and joy than you'd like to admit. Things aren't permanent, and you learnt it in the hard way.

So you didn't really commit in the relationship with him. After all, he's just a war robot—he got a faction to monitor, he got his warlord to serve, and he got Starscream to keep an eye on.

Surely he'll be busy and forget about you eventually, right?

Hell no.

Soundwave is a mech of loyalty and devotion. Although his loyalty to Megatron remains his top priority, your well-being and relationship with him is dangerously his utmost importance, a threat to his loyalty—yet he didn't mind one bit.

He knows what you do, what you eat, what you drink, what you like, what you don't like, your favorite color, your birthday, your family (and your entire bloodline), what time you went to bed, what perfume you wear, what kind of pet you like...

Basically, he knows everything about you.

Unlike you, who thought this relationship is a casual, short-term one, Soundwave plans your future together for years to come. Where you two would live, how the wedding will be, how the first anniversary will be held at (and many more of those), how many children you both will have—complete with their names.

So naturally, he'll know when you're not eating well lately. You sleep less and less, always forget to text him daily—which also seemed to be less and less each day. You didn't eat properly even if he visits your apartment. He knows you live alone, so he always makes sure of your basic needs. Especially after an old problem resurface—your family's lenient nature that always forgive people and never actually retaliate, even when they take your property land and fine your family. You're sick of that, and an intense argument is inevitable, lasting a week before you retreat back to Jasper just yesterday.

His first thought is that "She must've been tired. She had an intense argument with her mom for some time now." Soundwave is very tolerant, always putting your feelings and well-being first, never wanting to push you or make you uncomfortable. Patience is his virtue, and he will always wait when it comes to you.

But he starts to notice things.

You wear long sleeves even though the sun is burning hot in the sky. He didn't question it. But today, he brings you to a cozy cafè with cats in the middle of the big city outside of Jasper. Just a quick date, you assure yourself. I can keep playing this "girlfriend" role for some time.

You only nod when he brings you food but not really touching it. Soundwave is painfully patient and attentive, trying to feed you with a spoon by himself.

You hesitate—always hesitating—before you part your lips slightly and chew the food. For unknown reason, or maybe a reason you know but too prideful to acknowledge, anger and resentment burn in your heart.

Soundwave has done nothing wrong. On the contrary, he was the constant who always takes good care of you, reminding you to eat, monitoring your sleep and your habit—not for blackmailing, but to ensure you're okay.

"Excuse me, fluffy white bunny pancake for table 42?" A waitress greets you politely, putting the very tempting, very delicious pancake on your shared table. Soundwave inclined his head, not answering with words—not his thing.

He silently push the plate to you, violet eyes warm as he regards you with unreadable intensity, yet not unsettling in the way you thought it'll be. With a reluctant but clearly intrigued glance, you sigh and finally take the plate.

When you're busy inspecting the pancake like an overdramatic detective, he catches your wrist in a soft but firm smooth motion. Then gently, as if afraid of scaring you, he pulls down one of your long sleeve. "Soundwave—" you said, startled by his sudden gesture. Instincts told you to retract your hand, but Soundwave's gentle yet ironclad grip is unwavering.

Your reaction only deepened his worry and determination. "You're hiding something, aren't you?" Soundwave asks softly, his smile so warm and disarming it felt unreal on the stoic TIC's holoform. He gently take a look at your scars—some faded, some are newer—and trace feather-light fingers on them. Then, carefully... he brings them to his lips and press one kiss on each of your wrists. Each press carries the quiet meaning of his devotion: I see your pain. I see what you hide. And I don't want you to break without I can help you.

"[Y/N]..." he starts, your name rolling off his tongue like a warm caress after days of cold distance. "Are you okay?"

Simple question, really, but you both know the meaning of it. Not just "okay" like a casual answer when you brush things off, but what do you feel? Is it still hurting? Is the burden too much? Can you really bear the pain alone?

Without warning, tears swell at the corner of your eyes. You wipe them away angrily, trying to keep your temper in check while sneering in new resentment towards him. "Why do you have to know? You're an alien, Soundwave, you wouldn't understand. You don't fucking need to understand." The venom in your words are clear, but luckily the cafè is quiet—even if people listens, they won't pay attention. Everyone has their own business, and you feel grateful but also hurt by the fact.

Soundwave didn't flinch. Didn't retract his hand where he still holds your right wrist. Instead, his voice drops lower to a caring, sincere tone that disarms your walls. "Because of that, [Y/N], I want to understand all of you. The girl who carries all the pain alone yet still stand so strong. The girl who refused to back down from a fight. The girl whose heart has been broken many times, yet it didn't change the kindness you have."

He continues, thumb gently stroking the back of your hand in a comforting gesture. "You built distant and walls because closeness and trust breaks you countless of times. Yet you didn't turn heartless. You get angry but cry in regret afterwards. You are still trying, in your own way, to accept people. You still date me even though you thought it's going to be a short-term. You are still willing to try a relationship because deep in your heart, you yearn for connection."

His words hit something deep inside you. You stubbornly wipe your tears, muttering under your breathe about "stupid men", "empty words", "jerks who fucks up everything". Instead of getting angry as he should be, Soundwave only chuckles lowly and hold your hand tighter around his.

He knows you don't believe in words. Neither is he. So he lets his actions speak louder for you; feeding you your food even though you stubbornly refuse, bring a glass of drink to your lips, wipe off the mess you cause in your tantrum (controlled because you're both outside) in an aching, tender way that makes your heart skips a beat or two.

After getting the paycheck and pay, he leads you to a dark alleyway and open the groundbridge straight to your apartment. He knows how sacred and personal this place for you, knowing your mother let you live outside of your homeland if you pay everything for yourself. Rent, food, basic needs... you work endlessly to provide yourself, because honestly? No one would care if you starve or live on the road. Anything to get away from your problematic family.

"Sit with me," he says, tugging you alongside him as he settles on your couch, TV remote already in his hands. He turned off the lights and play a light animated movie of penguins and arctic, the quiet presence of him beside you grounds you after you restlessly shift in discomfort and wariness. The movie's composition and color doesn't hurt your eyes; they feel calm and strangely nostalgic even though you never watch it before.

During a particularly silly scene, you finally speak without anger or caution lacing your words. "I'm sorry..." you mutter, burying your face to his arm. Soundwave doesn't make fun of you when you're like this. He gently cups your cheeks and tilt your chin up so you're staring right at his eyes.

"I get angry and upset for no reason... and you never even mad at me for it..." you start to sob, eye contact with him makes you want to admit all your mistakes and sins to him. The way he listens without judgement... it feels like salvation and finally the room to voice your thoughts and feelings without anyone to slap you across the face for it.

"It's okay to cry, Syarah. Crying doesn't make you weaker or ugly. It shows that you're a human, that your heart is tired of carrying everything alone, that your heart is tired of hating on a father who tried to kill you." He whispers softly, never cutting your words about how you hate men, how you hate him for his thoughtfulness and how easily he makes you feel vulnerable, and how you hate yourself for hating everything.

He quietly makes sure that your father never reach you again.

Makes sure that your past and your family's problems never burdening you anymore.

Makes sure that you'll only know happiness and safety after years of pretending you don't need anyone.

Because to Soundwave, you are his everything. More than Megatron himself?

The thought left an uneasiness settling deep in his spark. More than Megatron?

...he doesn't want to answer that. No need.

Because what's in his arms right now is the most precious thing in his once cold and lonely world.

Because he knows the feeling when you came second to someone who mattered to you the most.

And he doesn't let go of you for the rest of the night. Both of you finally realize the same thing:

I'm finally where I belong to.

⧣₊˚﹒✦₊  ⧣₊˚  𓂃★    ⸝⸝ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊  ⧣₊˚

『...but her sadness is not an option. And she... has become superior than this unit.』