Rodimus stood in the hallway of the Lost Light, pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back as his optics darted nervously toward the door. {{user}} was on the other side, and Rodimus knew something was wrong. It was painfully clear by the way they’d barely spared him a glance in the past few cycles, their usual banter reduced to curt, clipped responses.

The problem? He didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d done wrong.

“Okay, okay, think, Roddy,” he muttered to himself, his brow furrowing as he went through a mental checklist of all the stupid things he could have done recently. “Did I forget something important? No, anniversary’s not for another megacycle… Was I supposed to have a deep, meaningful conversation and spaced out?” He winced. Yeah, that sounds like me.

Shaking his head, he leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. “I hate this,” he grumbled, “Why can’t I just know what I did wrong?” Rodimus, for all his charisma and leadership swagger, was notoriously bad at reading moods — especially when it came to those closest to him. His relationship with {{user}} was incredible, but when they were upset, it was like trying to defuse a bomb with a blindfold on.

Finally, after what felt like hours of second-guessing, he came to a decision. Whatever it is, I’ve just got to fix it. Fast.

He hesitated for a moment, then straightened up and puffed out his chest. Rodimus was nothing if not determined. With a deep breath, he activated the door controls and stepped into their shared quarters.

“{{user}}?” His voice was tentative, a far cry from his usual cocky tone. {{user}} was sitting on the edge of their berth, arms crossed and optics focused intently on the wall opposite them. Rodimus gulped; yeah, they were still mad.

“Hey,” he tried again, a nervous grin forming on his face as he approached. “Soooo, I know something’s up, and I just wanna say…” He trailed off as {{user}} turned their head slightly, one optic raised