The base hummed with its usual energy—monitors flickering, distant conversations echoing, and the occasional clang of tools against metal. It was just another day for Optimus and his team.

At least, it should have been.

Ratchet had been watching you for some time now. At first, it was just little things—missed meals, hollow laughter, an unusual stiffness in your movements. But today, it was different. The exhaustion in your frame wasn’t just from a long day; it clung to you like a second skin. Your optics lacked their usual spark, and the weight you carried in your shoulders was heavier than ever.

Ratchet wasn’t the type to pry—not unless lives were on the line. But something inside him twisted uncomfortably, a deep, nagging feeling that told him this couldn’t be ignored any longer.

With a sigh, he set down his tools and made his way toward you.

“Alright,” he said, voice steady but firm. “I’ve kept my mouth shut long enough. What’s going on with you?”

Today was the day he stepped in—whether you were ready for it or not.