Forget Me Not

Do You Hate Me?

   Jazz couldn't help his grin as he signed the letter with his name in pretty cursive, setting the stylus down and looking at his work with a proud expression. He had worked hard on this letter, rewriting it over and over, and he hoped that just maybe, the recipient would finally respond.

   At this point Jazz was getting desperate, and even rejection wouldn't be so bad. At least, he hoped so. He needed to know, no matter the answer, so he could either pursue his feelings or sweep them under the floorboards. 

   Hurrying to catch the target of his affections before his shift let off, Jazz scooped up the special datapad, carrying it under his arm. He made his way out of his office and down the hall with an excited bounce in his step, beaming nearly as bright as the stars.

   He passed a few mecha, and waved at them cheerfully, wearing his usual big smile. They would either wave or smile back, knowing that when Jazz was in a good mood, all was well. 

   But when he came to a stop at the tactician's door, the saboteur had to pause. His smile wavered with anxiety, and he took a nervous shallow vent. He keyed open the door, not even needing to concentrate as he absently typed in the code. Hacking Prowl's door was always a challenge, but the Praxian hadn't had a chance to change the password yet.

   His smile was wide as he waltzed inside to visit his friend, the mech he couldn't help but admire and dream about from afar, gaze falling on the sharp vibrant red crest, and crisp monochrome plating, and the elegant wide doorwings that Jazz fantasized about touching. Prowl was simply gorgeous, and he didn't miss how those icy blue optics glanced up and narrowed, how his wings gave the smallest of flicks, or how the thin line of his lips twitched. The Polyhexian felt his spark pulse quickly in his chassis, hopping on the desk avoiding crushing any of Prowl's things, and waving the special datapad in front of the mech. 

   "Heya Prowler!" Jazz drawled in his usual lilt. He kept his frame from shivering as he glanced the other up and down appreciatively.

   "Wha'sup mech? Ah got somethin fo ya! Oh, and here's yer mornin energon!" A full cube of blue energon was set on the desk beside the smiling mech, Jazz having snatched it earlier for himself. He could another cube later, knowing Prowl rarely left his office enough to grab his own.

   "Jazz, please refrain from calling me Prowler. My name is Prowl. And get off my desk."

   The saboteur slid off the desktop with a pout, but Prowl's sharp commanding tone didn't damper his happy mood. Prowl was always cold, but Jazz was good at breaking through his walls; he even prided himself in it. He handed Prowl his letter with a wide cheeky grin, nervous excitement thrumming through his entire frame. This was it!

   But that bright shining smile soon faded to strained as the Praxian took one look at the hand-written datapad, and tossed it aside with a growl of his engine. It landed on the floor with a crash, the glowing surface cracking and going dark. Prowl's hard icy optics glared at Jazz in a way the Saboteur wasn't expecting, doorwings flared wide in anger.

   "That, is not the report I need! Jazz, where is your report? Its overdue for three days, five hours and 20 minutes!"

   Jazz faltered, and his smile fell further into being forced, his visor glancing to the datapad, the special datapad with the letter he wrote specially for Prowl. He could feel his spark seizing in his chassis, filling with dread that dragged down into his tanks, making him feel nauseous and queasy. 

   "Ah'm sorry Prowler. Ah've... been meanin' t' turn it in..." He really did. He was almost finished with it, but Primus knows just how much Jazz struggled with sitting still and focusing on reports for so long.