Chapter Text
Bee hadn't been gone that long, so he had no idea he'd walk back into the bar to see two men with bloody noses and one with an already swelling jaw, and absolutely no sign of Breakdown. The rest of the bar had been focused on the three men sporting injuries which Bee had to assume were from Breakdown, so when the door slammed behind him, nearly twenty pairs of eyes were on him.
"Hey!" One of the injured men said, pointing to Bee. "He was with that asshole."
"I'd get the hell out of here, man," another patron said, one who didn't seem to be involved in the conflict, merely an outsider.
"Where the fuck's your pal," said the same man who spoke originally. He stood and sauntered towards Bee. "Too much of a pussy to finish a fight? Did he tag out?"
"Uhm," Bee said, eyeing everyone wearily. He put a hundred dollar bill on the table next to him and said, "For the tab, keep the change. Sorry." He stepped back outside, going to the alley side of the bar to see if could find Breakdown by the side door exit. When he called and heard nothing, he turned and booked it to his car as fast as he could. Breakdown was probably already long gone, and Bee hadn't had enough to drink to even make him tipsy, but the sight of three beat up men with murder in their eyes would have sobered him up anyway.
Bee reversed, and to his right he could see the group rushing angrily outside. One threw a mostly full beer can at his car, but it bounced off harmlessly off his windshield. He should have figured the second he stepped out, Breakdown would do something stupid. As he drove away, he tried to catch a glimpse of the alley, hoping he'd see Breakdown's silhouette, a sign he was alive and well, but he saw nothing.
He realized that he totally just bailed on his best friend, and there was a chance he was badly injured, needing Bee's help. Bee groaned, pulled over, and started calling Breakdown. He tried three times, but each attempt rang until he reached Breakdown's voicemail.
"Thanks for calling my cell. If I didn't answer it means I'm too busy for you, and I probably won't listen to your voicemail either. Sorry you missed me!"
Three times Bee heard Breakdown's cheerful, smug voice saying the same words over and over.
"I'm such a bad friend," he muttered as he pulled back onto the road. He hadn't seen Breakdown outside the bar after the fight, but he hadn't heard or seen Breakdown leave when he had been outside answering a call from Optimus. Bee decided to drive around the area, hoping he'd see him wandering around. He'd start calling the hospitals in the morning if he had to, and if that didn't give him any answers, he'd have the call the police. The idea sat like a lead ball in his stomach.
It wasn't the first time Breakdown ditched Bee in a bar after starting trouble. He always made it out on top in the end, but it didn't stop Bee from worrying every time. What if tonight was the night Breakdown bit off more than could chew?
So, Bee did just that, drove around the city as slow as he could, looking for a red and blue leather jacket and a head of wild brown hair. He called Breakdown every so often, and as the sun began to rise with no sign, Bee decided to go back to his and Breakdown's apartment.
He was exhausted as he unlocked the door. He was full of guilt and fear that the worst thing might have happened to Breakdown, and Bee couldn't do anything about it. That was Breakdown, the risk-taker, the shit-kicker, the problem-starting-fight-picker that Bee had to be friends with all those years ago, and how he's decades in and so fond of that idiot that Bee couldn't leave if he tried.
Before he made it too far into the doorway, he decided to call Breakdown again, just in case. Maybe the light was hitting his face wherever he passed out and he'd be conscious enough to answer a phone call. Bee's phone rang by his ear, and inside the apartment he could hear the faint sound of Judas Priest's "Turbo Lover," a sound familiar to Bee because that was Breakdown's ringtone for him.
Bee followed the sound to Breakdown's room, which was usually a mess on a good day, but was entirely trashed at the moment. It hadn't been like that when they'd left for the bar last night. His signature letter jacket was muddy and tossed in the hallway haphazardly, which was already a bad sign.
Bee creeped closer. Something about Breakdown's room was off. It was too dark, like the light just stopped at his doorframe. As the chorus started to repeat, and the ringing in Bee's ear began to come from inside his own head and not his phone, Bee heard a noise. Not the music, not the ringing, but a noise from a person. A mix between a groan and a growl. Bee couldn't explain why his heart was pounding so hard. This was probably good news. Breakdown made his way home. His phone was here, his jacket was here, so Breakdown had to be here and that meant he was alive.
Bee looked into Breakdown's room, not quite stepping over the door jamb. He was focused on Breakdown's bed, where Breakdown's ringtone seemed to be the loudest, and the bundle on the bed had to be Breakdown under the covers. Bee's phone stopped ringing, and he hears the start of Breakdown's voicemail.
Thanks for calling my—
Breakdown sits up suddenly from the floor, and Bee, to his shame and horror, screams.
"Gah! Fuck, shhh!" Breakdown said, squinting and covering his ears. Bee hadn't even noticed the pile just to the right of the door, which was where Breakdown ended up.
"I need Tylenol. Or ibuprofen. Or weed," Breakdown said, cradling his head.
Bee felt relieved for all of ten seconds before he scrunched his face and balled his hands into fists.
"Do you have any idea how long I spent looking for you?" Bee said, hands on his hips like a mother scolding a child.
"Could you yell at me quieter?"
"No! I've been out all night thinking you were dead!"
"That's on you, Bee. C'mon, I've never died."
Bee threw his hands up. "That doesn't mean you can't!"
Bee looked for any sign of the fight Breakdown got into last night. He had a cut down his cheek, which could have been from a ring if someone got a punch in. The skin around it looked a little red and blue. Breakdown groaned and rubbed his face, gingerly laying himself back down on the clothes he slept on.
"Is that my clothes?" Bee asked, looking closely at the graphic tees with his favorite cars on them, and a couple NASCAR shirts from the races he'd been to.
He noticed that the clothes actually made a path from his room to Breakdown's, so he took the few steps over to see that his own room, or at the very least his drawers, had been ransacked. "Seriously?" Bee groaned. Bee turned back to Breakdown's room where Breakdown was scrubbing his hands through his hair, like he was trying to push his skull in. He was muttering something to himself, but in the moment Bee didn't care.
Bee grabbed pills from the bathroom counter and a half-empty bottle of water from the kitchen, whether it was his or Breakdown's he didn't know. He dropped it on the clothes Breakdown was laying facedown on, and he heard a muffled "Thanks."
Bee took Breakdown's leather jacket and laid it over a chair, so that the mud would dry evenly, making it at least a little easier to clean. He picked up his shirts and made a pile where the rest of his clothes had been thrown out. All the while he laid into Breakdown, saying how worried he was, how Breakdown ditched him, how he hadn't slept at all and had called Breakdown a hundred times and Breakdown couldn't pick up once, couldn't send a stupid text.
Breakdown didn't say anything, just laid on the floor, rubbing his head and eyes.
As the panic from last night settled, Bee realized how tired he really was. It was probably six in the morning, and he had work at one, so he could still sleep for a few hours at least, but there was so much that needed to be done, and Bee didn't think he could sleep until his clothes was sorted through and folded.
Some of his clothes, his clean clothes, were dirtied from whatever Breakdown dragged himself in. He'd have to do laundry. He was crouched down, picking through his shirts, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He startled and fell back. He looked up at Breakdown. "I didn't even hear you stand up."
"You were busy, is all good," Breakdown murmured. He looked really pale, and the bags under his eyes made him look sunken in. "Go sleep, Bee. I'll take care of this."
Bee narrowed his eyes. "Will you? You look like death."
"Just a hangover," Breakdown said, yawning and cringeing at the pain the stretch caused. "Not the first, probably not the last." Breakdown lifted Bee under his arms, helping him up and ushering him towards the bed.
"I need to change," Bee said, trying to move past Breakdown to see if he had any sleep clothes that wasn't spread around in Breakdown's room.
Breakdown nodded, pushing Bee to sit. "Here just wear this."
"That's your clothes. And why did you have that ready?"
A look flashed over Breakdown's face, one Bee couldn't read, and then he smiled. "I feel bad. Wear it or don't. I know it's clean. Or I'm sure it's clean."
"Are you going to watch me change, you freak?" Bee smiled at him.
Breakdown sighed heavily and said, "Can't blame a guy for trying." He turned around. Bee threw last night's clothes into the growing laundry pile and laid back on the bed. Breakdown made a whole show of tucking him in and giving him a good night's (or morning's) kiss on the forehead. Bee shoved him away, and turned over. "If I wake up and the laundry isn't done, you owe me fifty bucks."
"Sure," Breakdown said, moving away and starting to move the clothes into a basket.
Bee fell asleep as soon as his eyes shut.
Last night…
Breakdown slammed his arm into the door, throwing it open as he ran outside. He was panting and smiling, blood dripped down his cheek. He knew they'd only stay dazed for so long, so he ran around to the front, where he had last seen Bee. He looked around, but Bee wasn't on the sidewalk where Breakdown thought he would find him. He turned back down the alley, debating if he should run back inside, but he knew Bee was a big boy, and there were more than three guys in that group that he had just fought. He didn't want to start a brawl.
He hadn't wanted to start a fight at all. He'd been doing a good job of ignoring those guys and their comments. Bee left outside to take a call, and Breakdown ordered another round for him and Bee. The drink had tasted stronger than before, but Breakdown chalked it up to how many drinks he'd already had. He'd been able to them tune them out up until that point, but then one of them said something that made Breakdown snap, and suddenly he'd started throwing punches.
He breathed out heavily, watching his breath fog in the air.
"Hey!" A voice echoed from deep in the alley. Breakdown turned to the sound.
"Hey!" Breakdown called back, walking towards the voice.
"Need a hand?" The voice sounded a little melodic, which was odd, but Breakdown didn't see a reason not to trust this guy.
"Yeah, actually," Breakdown said. He couldn't see anything, but it was dark, so he didn't expect to.
"Follow me, I can help you get away from this place." Breakdown tripped over a pallet and would've fallen face first if someone hadn't caught him.
"You're strong," the voice said. Breakdown's vision was spinning from the fall, so he wasn't able to focus on the man's face. "You'd be a nice addition to our group."
"Group?" Breakdown asked stupidly. He felt high, but he hadn't smoked today.
"Yes," the voice said, drawing out the 'sss.'
"Are you guys a band?" Breakdown smiled dopily.
"Something like that," the man said. "Follow me. Don't worry about your friend."
"But-"
"Shhh," the man said. He cupped Breakdown's face and pulled him close. Breakdown thought the man might kiss him, but instead he felt the stranger's mouth on his neck. There was pain, sharp and electric, and then Breakdown passed out.
Bee was still exhausted when he got to work. True to his word, Breakdown had done the laundry, but there was no sign of him in the apartment when Bee woke up. Breakdown hadn't left him any texts or notes, but Bee didn't have time to worry about him. Bee had to assume Breakdown was out running errands or just dicking around. He couldn't help sending a short "Hey, where'd you go?" just in case.
Bee worked as a mechanic for Prime and Co., a company he'd been with since he was a teenager. They did everything from oil changes to NASCAR pit stops. Optimus Prime, the owner of the company, had started out with a simple mechanic shop and gained so many talented hands that eventually gained enough notoriety to apply to be engineers for NASCAR.
Bee had a babysitting job during high school, where he sat for the Malto family. It turned out that Dorothy Malto, a retired veteran, was actually close friends with Optimus, and she put in a good word for him, which gave him a job when he graduated. He's worked there for years now. He'd had a passion for cars ever since he was a kid, and that was how he met Breakdown.
Breakdown wasn't like any kid Bee thought he'd be friends with. Bee was a teacher's pet. He hated getting in trouble. Breakdown was the trouble. He talked too much, too loudly, at the wrong times. He could be rude and sometimes downright mean. He knew how to get under everyone's skin, he found everyone's last nerve and he ran in circles on it. Bee was paired with Breakdown because the teacher thought he'd be a good influence. It didn't work out as planned.
Bee cleaned his hands and checked his phone for any sign of Breakdown seeing his message. He refreshed the screen a couple times, but it only showed a couple YouTube notifications and an email from a magazine he'd subscribed to a few months ago.
Bee wiped his forehead and typed something out.
Thanks for doing the laundry
Bee's finger hovered over the send button, but then he erased it and wrote something else.
How are you fe
He erased it.
Did I do something
Bee groaned and tapped his foot.
Stopping for takeout after work, want anything?
If Breakdown didn't respond to this, Bee didn't know what would get him a text back. He put his phone away and hoped no one saw him struggling.
When he finally left work, Breakdown had left a voice message. He put his phone up to his ear and listened.
"Hey, Bee. Don't wait up, I'm hanging out with some friends from last night. I'll crash at theirs, so don't go calling the police." Laughter. "See you in the morning, Bug."
Breakdown's voice was muffled by loud music, so Bee had to assume he was at a club or party. It was 8:00, what the hell was he doing partying this early? Bee guessed it didn't matter. This was Breakdown, he did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
Bee microwaved a frozen meal and laid down. When he changed for work after his nap, he left Breakdown's clothes on his bed. It didn't seem like a bad idea at the time, but now that he was home and tired and weak, he put on Breakdown's clothes again. Earlier he had an excuse, and if he hadn't been so exhausted from looking for Breakdown and then shocked by the sight of the apartment when he finally got home, he might have had a bigger reaction to Breakdown offering his clothes to Bee.
A simple faded band shirt and loose sleep shorts. Two old items of clothing that likely held no sentimental value to Breakdown outside of being comfortable to sleep in and too raggedy to wear outside. Breakdown was taller than Bee and a little broader in the shoulders, so the clothes fit him loose, looser than they already were on Breakdown. They were washed, sure, but they still smelled like Breakdown. Like his shampoo, his lotion, a sweet musky scent from a gift Bee had gotten him a while back that Breakdown kept asking for more of.
Bee laid in his bed, in Breakdown's clothes, and he brought the collar up to his nose and breathed in deep.
Bee had a problem, and that problem was that he'd fallen in love with Breakdown so long ago that he couldn't remember a moment where he didn't love him. But Breakdown had made it clear that he didn't think of Bee that way. Breakdown didn't settle, jumped from person to person for as long as he was interested and then he moved on.
At the end of the day, Breakdown always came back, and to Bee that was the most important part. He didn't need to be able to kiss Breakdown to know he had him. They'd been friends for a long time, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon. Bee was fine huffing his clothes and feeling cold and alone while Breakdown got drunk and danced and went home with someone new. It was fine. Bee had been handling this for so long, he could keep it up. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.
It went like that for a while. Bee would see Breakdown maybe once every few days. Sometimes Breakdown was kind enough to leave Bee a text or a voice message, but he usually didn't. Breakdown was gone most nights, partying or whatever he was off doing. If he wasn't sleeping during the day, he was working, and Bee didn't know where he got the energy. After the first week Bee was sure it would slow down and everything would go back to normal. Breakdown would spend most of his time with Bee. They'd go bar hopping like they always did. They'd get takeout together if Bee didn't feel like cooking or he'd have leftovers from time at the Maltos.
After two weeks, Bee began to wonder why Breakdown wouldn't just invite Bee to go with him. Bee could use some new friends, too, and usually if they met people while out, they'd go together. Bee didn't even know who these people were. He didn't know their names, their ages, how many of them there were. Breakdown was completely blocking him out. Of course, Bee knew that Breakdown was a grown man and he could do what he wanted without Bee trailing behind him like a puppy, but it didn't hurt any less to be so separated from Breakdown's life.
Bee fell into a rhythm. Check his phone for any messages from Breakdown, go to work, check his phone, eat, check his phone, shower and on and on and on. Bee should be an adult about it. He should just talk to Breakdown. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. To admit how much his life revolved around him, how much he needed him. It wasn't like Bee didn't have other friends, or a support group—he did, and he loved all of them. They just weren't Breakdown.
Breakdown pushed Bee to do things he'd never thought he could do. It wasn't always right, or even legal, but that's where Bee came in to keep him in check. They balanced each other out. They were good together, they worked. It felt like Breakdown was throwing it all away on a whim and Bee had no idea why it was happening.
Aside from feeling left out, nothing weird had happened. Bee would wait up just a few hours to see if Breakdown would come home and when he didn't, Bee would go to sleep with nothing else to do. It left him sleeping earlier than usual, which meant that he'd wake up in the middle of night thirsty and sore, and it would take him an hour or two to get back to sleep, so he tried not to do it. He'd made that mistake tonight. He grabbed his phone to check the time. 3:24 P.M. He pushed his head into the pillow.
Lying on his stomach, he could feel a tingling on his back, like something was watching him. He rolled his shoulders, easing the ache from laying so long. He stretched slightly, getting more comfortable so he could go back to sleep quickly, not wanting to wake himself up too much and leave him awake for an hour or more. He turned his head toward his door, eyes still closed, trying to will himself back to sleep. He hadn't meant for his eyes to open, but they did and he blinked slowly, his heart beginning to race.
It looked like there was a silhouette in his doorway, but Bee had had his fair share of late night hallucinations, usually mistaking a jacket hanging up as a person. He squinted, trying to make sense of the shape in the darkness. It felt like a scene in a movie, where the character realizes they're not alone. Bee's eyes adjusted, and he watched as the shape stood perfectly still. If it were a person, Bee would say they weren't breathing.
Bee swallowed hard—mouth dry—and he leaned back, thinking if he changed the angle, he might be able to understand it better, to know that it was not a person there. No one was watching him sleep, staring at him from the edge of his room. That didn't happen in real life.
Bee didn't want to look away, afraid that if he did, it might still be there when he looked back—or worse, it would be gone. If it was a person, there was only one person it could possibly be.
"Breakdown?" Bee asked, his voice shaking and rough from sleep.
The shadow in the doorway shifted, just the slightest, and Bee knew that he wasn't imagining it. This was really happening.
Bee sat up slow, never taking his eyes away from it. If it was Breakdown, he would have responded. What if he was sleepwalking? He'd never done it before, but sometimes stress or certain conditions could cause it in adulthood. If it was Breakdown, and he was sleepwalking, Bee would probably be better off not waking him.
"Breakdown," he tried again. Again, the thing shifted, and Bee took it as his chance to turn on a light, hoping it wouldn't shock Breakdown awake. He reached for his phone, and painstakingly turned on the flashlight without looking down at it once. The phone was angled down, and Bee could see bare feet—dirty bare feet—and equally dirty cuffs on jeans. Bee moved the flashlight up, until he could see the edges of Breakdown's face. He didn't want to risk shining the light directly on his face. And it was Breakdown, to Bee's utter relief. His eyes were open, not shut, though Bee knew that sleepwalkers didn't always have their eyes closed.
He slid off the bed as slowly and quietly as he could, and he stepped towards Breakdown as if he were approaching a wild animal. It must have been a trick of the light, because it looked like Breakdown's eyes were following Bee. Bee was going to try to lead Breakdown back to his own room and bed, even though he hadn't been expecting Breakdown home tonight, he was here and Bee would be a good friend and make sure he slept in his bed and not on the floor, as he was so prone to do when he was drunk or high, or both.
He reached out, softly touching Breakdown's arm, hoping it wouldn't startle him. Bee was never so fortunate. Breakdown didn't just startle, he yanked Bee over the threshold and nearly slammed him into the wall opposite his room door. Breakdown's eyes were glazed over, but they held contact with Bee's own. Bee was terrified, his chest was rising and falling quickly, and Breakdown was so close that each inhale left his and Breakdown's chests brushing against each other.
"Breakdown," Bee whispered. No response. Breakdown looked like a predator who had just caught his prey. Maybe it was a bad trip, maybe Breakdown didn't even know it was Bee.
"Breakdown," Bee tried again, pressing against the wall as hard as he could as Breakdown caged him. His voice was shaking now.
Breakdown leaned towards Bee, angling his head to his nose was at Bee's jaw. Bee tilted his head away, inadvertently revealing more of his neck. And then Breakdown did something weird. He breathed in deep, inhaling loud enough for Bee to hear it. It was a slow, intentional thing. Bee was glued to the wall, not able to move a single inch—his hands didn't even twitch where they were pressed to his thighs.
Bee had goosebumps on his neck, almost painfully aware of how close Breakdown was. Bee felt Breakdown's lips brush his neck, but he was frozen. Breakdown opened his mouth and then pressed his teeth into Bee's skin, enough pressure for Bee to feel his teeth, but not enough to break skin.
"Breakdown," Bee whimpered. "What are you doing?"
Breakdown didn't respond. Bee felt Breakdown's tongue against his skin, licking widely from Breakdown's lower teeth to his upper teeth. Consistent licking motions that had Bee shaking, both out of fear and something else. He hated that it was sending the wrong signals through his body, but it was Breakdown, he'd never do anything to hurt Bee. Yet, here he was acting so odd that Bee had no idea what to do or even think. He was scared—terrified—because Breakdown had never acted like this once, not even as a joke.
Breakdown's lips formed a suction around the same spot he'd been licking at, his teeth still grazing Bee's skin, and he began to suck softly at Bee's neck. The suction began to get harder, and Breakdown's teeth pushed down into Bee's skin, the feeling becoming so tight that Bee was sure Breakdown was going to bite into his neck. Bee made a pained sound, the feeling becoming too much, his heart pounding so hard he swore he was going to pass out. The action had felt good for a few seconds, and for that Bee was ashamed, but the tingly, sweet sensation he'd felt was morphing into pain, and he couldn't handle it any longer.
He picked his arms up—it felt like lifting pure lead rocks—and got his hands spread across Breakdown's chest with enough coverage that when he shoved Breakdown back, he actually stumbled across the hall and into Bee's room, where he lost his balance and fell. Bee's chest was heaving, his face was hot, his heart was pounding. He was scared and angry all at once.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Breakdown?" Bee yelled. He was trembling as he peeled himself off the wall and towards where Breakdown was still flat on his ass, looking dazed, like he had no idea what just happened.
"Bee?" he asked. He was squinting, rubbing his face and rolling his shoulders. "What's going on?"
Bee's mouth fell open. "Are you serious? What just happened? You come in late from doing who knows what, you stand in my doorway, fucking staring at me like some kind of murderer, not announcing yourself or letting me know you're there! And then!" Bee's voice was shaking as he raved. "You pin me to the wall, and fucking bite me." Bee pointing to his neck for emphasis. "You bit me! And here I am thinking maybe you're sick or sleep walking, but how? How the fuck could you do that in your sleep?"
Breakdown stood slowly, like he was walking towards a wounded animal. "Bee, I'm so sorry, but I don't remember any of that. I can't even remember how I got home."
"Yeah, I bet you don't," Bee scoffed. "I'm surprised you're even here right now. Don't you have other people to hang out with?"
Breakdown didn't speak. He was staring at Bee's neck. "Bee, you're bleeding."
Bee made a face, and then brought his hand up to his neck, where he felt the sticky warmth of his own blood. He wasn't bleeding heavily, it was a lazy pooling of blood from two holes, which Bee had to guess were from Breakdown's canines.
"Guess I am," Bee said flatly. Bee moved to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and squinted hard at the harsh glow. It took him a minute for his eyes to stop hurting as they adapted to the light. In the mirror, he could see everything much more clearly. He wet a paper towel and began wiping at his neck. The paper towel was cold, and when he pressed into his skin, it ached. As the blood was cleaned, he could see the shallow holes of the bite and the redness peaking through on his skin. He didn't have the clearest picture of the width of the bruise, but he knew it was going to be obvious, even on his brown skin.
Breakdown appeared behind him, and Bee could see the guilt on his face, but Bee didn't care.
"That looks awful," Breakdown muttered. "I did that?"
"Yeah," Bee said. "You did." Breakdown stared at Bee's neck. Bee grabbed the first aid kit they kept under the sink—it was part of a housewarming gift from Optimus—and he grabbed antiseptic and a large bandaid that he put on the bite. He walked out of the bathroom leaving Breakdown to follow him.
"Bee," Breakdown said. "Seriously, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. The last thing I remember was leaving a party. I swear I wasn't even that drunk. I barely had anything to drink."
"You don't have to defend yourself, Breakdown. I get it. It happens all the time," Bee turned to glare at Breakdown. "People get drunk and get home and bite their roommate until the bleed."
"Bee—"
"No, just forget it Breakdown. I can't believe you're not even thinking about these people—people I don't know by the way—and how they could have done anything to you and you wouldn't even notice because you don't care. You don't care that I stay up for hours looking for you when you disappear from a bar after starting shit and leaving me to deal with it. You don't care that I'm left to pick up the pieces." Bee was starting to tear up. He thought about going to his room, but he thought about everything that just happened and how he couldn't trust Breakdown. Not right now.
He grabbed his keys.
"Bee," Breakdown said. He sounded scared. "Talk to me. You don't have to leave."
"Please," Bee said. "I just need space. Don't follow me. Give me—" Bee's voice cracked. "Tomorrow. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Bee reached the door. Breakdown's hands came over Bee's on the door.
Bee looked at Breakdown one more time. Breakdown's face fell when he realized there was no changing Bee's mind. Then Bee pushed him away and left.
Breakdown came to the Maltos' when Bee said he was ready to talk. Bee had stayed the night there with no where else to go and no one he thought he could ask that early in the morning. Plus, he had key, and aside from waking them up with a call, no one had to wait up for him. (It was worth noting that the couch was done up for him when he got there, and he nearly cried at the thoughtfulness.)
Bee was still in his clothes from last night. He knew he probably looked terrible because he spent most of the drive to the Maltos' crying and ranting to himself, trying to understand what the hell had happened and if it was even real. Breakdown, to Bee's surprise, looked almost as terrible. He had dark bags under his eyes, like he hadn't slept at all. His eyes were red-rimmed, which made Bee wonder if he'd been crying, too. But Breakdown didn't cry, at least not in front of Bee. Not since they were really little. The thing that worried Bee the most were the bruises on his hands. His knuckles were an angry red, wrapped in purple and blues and split in several places, like he'd been hitting something.
Bee met him in the driveway, so that none of the nosy kids—think Hashtag and Twitch—could overhear or eavesdrop. Breakdown leaned against his car, trying to look casual. He would have succeeded if he didn't look so thoroughly wrecked. Bee kept a good distance, still not trusting himself to be near Breakdown.
Bee waited. Breakdown spoke first.
"I'm really sorry, Bumblebee," Breakdown said. Bee believed him, he'd believed him last night, but hearing Breakdown so solemn made Bee feel bad about how he'd reacted. His hand came up to press the bandaid—Breakdown's eyes followed the movement—to push the bruise that Breakdown had left on his skin, and then he didn't feel as bad. Breakdown had hurt him. Breakdown had scared him. Bee didn't have to forgive him at all. But instead Bee nodded, "Okay."
Breakdown nodded, too, accepting the truce for what it was.
"I don't have an excuse," Breakdown said. "Everything had just been so weird lately. You're right, I have been hanging out with those guys a lot, and I have been out late, even for me. Honestly, I lose track of time when I'm with them. I can't explain it. When I'm with them I feel like I have energy, like I can take on an army, but when I leave, the energy drains fast. It's like the greatest highs and the worst lows. And I can't stop."
Breakdown seemed to zone out while he spoke. "I don't know why, but I need to be there."
Bee's face morphed into one of confusion and worry. "Breakdown it sounds like they're drugging you." He said it quietly, like he was scared that Breakdown couldn't handle the possibility.
Breakdown shook his head and winced like it pained him to do so. "No…That's not it. There's no reason to. And aside from drinking, I don't take anything they give me."
Bee's eyes widened. "Breakdown, they can put stuff in the drinks. You wouldn't even know."
"They wouldn't," Breakdown snapped. He picked his head up, a nasty glare shot Bee's way. "You just have to assume the worst every time, don't you?"
"Breakdown, c'mon—"
"No!" Breakdown moved away from the car, no longer using it to hold himself up. He seemed unbalanced. "You can't stand if I'm friends with anyone other than you."
"That's not true at all."
"Isn't it? First friends I've made in a long time and you don't want me around them. Well, I can take care of myself, Bee. I don't need you. I've never needed you."
Bee flinched like he'd been slapped. "You don't mean that."
"I do. Yeah, I fucked up last night, but you? You fuck everything up. You follow me around like a sick puppy, criticizing everything I do."
"I'm not criticizing! I just care about you because you don't!" Bee scratched at the Band-Aid on his neck, the sweat making it itch. The pain grounded him.
"I never asked you to! Why does it matter to you what I do?"
Bee pushed his fingers into the bruise. "Because I—" Love you. Bee shut his mouth before the words could spill out. "You're my best friend," he ended up saying. "It matters to me if you live or die, even if it doesn't matter to you. Is that so wrong? You're going to get mad at me for wanting you in my life?"
"I have every right to," Breakdown sneered. "You're not my boyfriend. You don't get to have any say in my life."
"Fine!" Bee said. His throat was scratchy. He was doing everything not to fall on the ground sobbing, yelling at Breakdown to take it all back. He'd do anything, he'd forget about last night, he'd shut up about Breakdown's habits. He'd stop caring if it meant Breakdown wouldn't leave. "You're just going to say 'Fuck it' to our friendship. Forget about the twenty years we've had together, all the times I had your back and bailed you out, because that's all I ever seem to do—save your sorry ass constantly just for you to throw it away the next chance you got."
"I guess I am."
Bee almost screamed. The sound was primal, coming from deep in his chest, but he just grit his teeth and muffled it as much as he could, throwing his hands in his hair and pulling at it from the roots. "Fuck you!" Bee said into his arms. "Fuck your stupid attitude and your car and your late nights and your drinking problem. Throw your life away for people who would forget you in a heartbeat. I don't care. I've given you everything and you've thrown it back in my face everytime."
For a second, Bee could imagine that the flat expression Breakdown had put on had cracked. That hurt showed through for just a moment, that everything Bee was saying was affecting him. That he'd apologize again and beg Bee forgiveness. Instead, Breakdown's jaw moved like he was going to say something, but then clamped his jaw shut, the muscles visibly tensing.
"So, we're done?"
Bee's heart stuttered. His voice cracked as he said, "Yeah, I guess so. You don't want to stay, and I can't make you. You made that clear."
Breakdown nodded. "Good."
And then Breakdown got into his car and he left.
It's a wonder Bee didn't fall to his knees right there. He didn't know how long he stood outside, maybe hoping the last couple weeks were just a bad dream. He'd wake up to Breakdown making them both bowls of cereal because he couldn't cook but, "I wanted to do something nice for once." Where did it all go wrong? They were supposed to make up. Now, everything they had was gone.
Bee felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't even flinch, just slowly and mindlessly turned to see who it was. It was Alex. He had a look on his face, maybe it was pity, maybe it was understanding. Bee didn't know. The second he saw it, the dam broke and he fell into Alex's embrace, sobbing these horrible wet heaves into Alex's shoulder. And Alex held him, stroking his back, whispering words of comfort that Bee couldn't decipher.
"It's going to be okay, Bee," he said. "You're going to be okay."
Bee didn't say anything back.
The night before…
Breakdown stared at the door. Bee left. He left because of Breakdown, because Breakdown hurt him and he didn't even have any idea he was doing it. He was so stupid. He was acting like an asshole, he knew it, but he couldn't stop. Bee didn't understand. Bee didn't know Motormaster like he did. Drag Strip, Dead End, Breakneck, they all understood him. Not that Bee didn't, but this was different. He felt powerful around them. It was like a high he never came down from when he was with them.
They didn't judge his habits, the way he drank himself stupid and picked fights. He was loud, he was fast, he could do all kinds of crazy shit and they'd cheer him on. Not like Bee, Bee who said, "Let's stop after this one." Bee who said, "That might not be smart." Bee who said, "You're going to get hurt." Bee who cared so much it pissed him off sometimes. He just needed to let loose, to be free, to not have Bee worrying in his ear constantly.
But he'd never meant to hurt Bee. Piss him off, sure. Annoy him? It was Breakdown's second favorite past time. But to actually hurt him? Breakdown saw Bee make a face he'd never seen before. Breakdown was genuinely heartbroken that he was the cause. He didn't understand why something like that could happen. How he could be the cause of such pain.
He stared at the door. He'd come back. Maybe not tonight, but he'd come back. He was always too good for Breakdown. Always forgave him when he didn't deserve it. He had to come back because—
Because Breakdown needed him. Because the good always outweighed the bad, and in the end they always came back to each other even after bad fights. Bee was the sun, he shined on Breakdown's darkness, his misery, his anger. Breakdown didn't deserve him. Bee would be better off, he knew it.
Breakdown stared at the door and for the first time in a long time, he felt wet hot tears fall down his cheeks. He was such a fuck up. He'd ruined everything good in his life and he didn't even have the wherewithal to change. His hands clenched into fists as he cried silently, his mind racing with the events that just happened. His sadness, his anger at himself, shifted into rage.
Breakdown was going to do it again. Even if Bee forgave him, let him back into the apartment, used his money to buy them takeout or his energy to cook them food. It would all be worthless because Breakdown knew he couldn't change. He'd always be the selfish man he was. He'd soak up Bee's warmth, bask in his presence, smile and laugh with him and feel good, and then he'd turn around and throw it back in Bee's face because that was the kind of person he was. He didn't care about himself. He didn't care about his future, he didn't have plans. He'd probably die in a car accident caused by too much alcohol and not enough self control, and it meant nothing to him. And all the while he would drag Bee down with him, because Bee cared too much to let him die alone. And Breakdown couldn't have that.
He was shaking. He breath came in pants, and the door he'd been staring at became a target. He didn't even register that he'd punched the door until he felt a throbbing in his hand. When he pulled his hand back, there was the perfect outline of his fist dented into the door. Something snapped in him. Everyone left Breakdown eventually. It was just a matter of how much they were willing to take. Breakdown could push Bee farther than anyone he'd pissed off before, but everyone had a limit. Even Bumblebee.
He turned to the living room. He hesitated, just for moment, as he remembered all of the memories he had of himself and Bee here. Drinking, getting high, playing video games, watching movies. Just talking late into the night, laughing until they couldn't breathe. He thought of Bee's smile, how he shined, how his eyes would close.
And then he picked up a table lamp and slammed it into the TV.