Your chest feels tight.

Everything feels wrong and bad and it hurts and you don't understand why it all hurts so badly, but it does and you feel like crying and screaming but you're already crying and you just want it to stop but there's something in your throat that keeps catching your screams and your tears are making your neck all wet and itchy and you feel like you need to be sick but there's nothing in your stomach so you can't and you feel like you can't draw in a proper breath and it hurts.

You lay in bed. Wishing with all your might that you could go home, but you're already there, but why does everything feel so unfamiliar? Your entire body jerks involuntarily, like a flinch.

Someone yells outside. You can't hear exactly what they're saying, but they sound happy, and someone else yells back at them.

Your fingers twitch. So, you bring your hands up to hug yourself, but a wave of sheer misery washes over you and your chest tightens again and you bring your hands back to your sides, scratching your arms as hard as you can along the way, and then you bring your hands up to your head, using them as a pillow.

A bony, wet with tears, uncomfortable pillow.

Your fingers twitch again, and this time, you feel around blindly on your bedside table until you find it.

Megatron gave it to you, only to use in dire emergencies when your life is in danger and there's no other option. You're not sure exactly what it is or what it does, but it's small enough to fit snugly in the palm of your hand and has a Decepticon insignia. While your life isn't exactly in danger, you certainly don't feel safe.

It feels cool to the touch, and mostly smooth, like a piece of metal that should be engraved but it feels too nice to ruin with words.

There aren't any blemishes that you can feel, and it's too dark to see anything. But the more you run your fingers over the surface, the less your fingers twitch and tremble of their own accord.

It's nice.

You take a deep breath and it still feels like you're not getting enough oxygen into your lungs, but it feels like you're a little closer to it.

The metal in your hand begins to warm up from your body heat, and it loses some of that relaxing coolness, and the tightness in your chest grows just a little bit more.

You open your eyes (when had you screwed them shut?) and stare at the little purple insignia in the middle.

It stares back at you.

It kind of looks like Soundwave's helm.

That's kind of funny. You don't laugh, but you make a mental note to giggle about it later.

You let your hand fall back onto the mattress and almost jump out of your skin when the eyes on the Decepticon insignia start glowing red.

No way all it took to activate the stupid thing was just jiggling around a bit. That's stupid. That's really, really stupid. You crack a smile.

Nothing else happens, and you frown, shaking it again.

Your smile widens. You show your teeth. You don't think you're smiling anymore. Your jaw hurts from the force of your not-smile. You make a sound, you think. It doesn't sound quite human, but you felt a vibration in your throat, so you're sure you made a sound.

Crimson light fills your room, and then it goes away, and then it comes back. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to realise that it's giant red optics peering into your room and blinking every few seconds.

You're not sure exactly who it is, and then you hear a curse, and you realise it's Skywarp.

You don't speak as you sneak out of your house, except to whisper-shout Skywarp's name. He scoops you up, babbling about something you don't hear and teleports away with a soft voosh.

Megatron paces, and when Skywarp appears, he freezes until Skywarp places you on the floor. Then, he scoops you up and carefully scans you. "You don't appear to have sustained any injuries. Care to explain why you used the beacon?"

Despite his disappointed tone, you don't miss the relief in his optics, or how he carefully wipes your tears away with his digit as he shooes Skywarp away.