━━━ ⸝⸝ ━ ⟡ ━ ⸝⸝ ━━━

” (╯﹏╰） “

━━━ ⸝⸝ ━ ⟡ ━ ⸝⸝ ━━━

It was midnight in Motown. The city was quiet, its streets bathed in dim light as most residents slept. Even the Cardbots, who didn’t need rest, had powered down to pass the night.

All but one.

Phoenix Fire sat curled in the shadowed corner of the Motown Repair Center’s garage, unable to escape the memory of flames—the fire that consumed his ship and nearly trapped him.

It replayed in his processor, vivid and inescapable.

His pedes were drawn to his chassis, optics wide with fear as they fixated on the cold metal floor. Servos gripped his knees tightly, trembling as he tried to steady himself.

He didn’t want to disturb the others with the soft whimpers and choked sobs threatening to escape.

They didn’t need to wake up because of the sounds that escaped him due to his problem. It was just a ‘silly’ glitch he couldn’t seem to shake.

Yet, a broken whimper slipped from his vocalizer despite his efforts. Pressing his helm back against the wall, he shuddered, suffocating under the weight of his panic.

He was spiraling—and he didn’t know how to stop.