Orion had rehearsed the words in his processor a hundred times. Yet, when Megatronus actually entered the quiet corner of the archives where Orion had asked him to meet, every line evaporated. The gladiator’s frame seemed to fill the room, and Orion’s spark rattled like it might burst through his plating.

“M-Megatronus,” he began, voice catching. His fingers fidgeted around the edge of his datapad, tapping, tapping. “Thank you for… coming.”

Orion’s vents hitched. He lowered his gaze, shifting his weight nervously. “I… I wanted to say—” His voice faltered, but he forced himself onward. “Whenever you’re near, I feel… it is difficult to concentrate. And when you’re not, I… I wish you were.”

The last words came out almost as a whisper, his faceplate flushed hot. His optics flicked up, wide and uncertain. “What I mean is… I care for you, Megatronus. More than I should.”