GRIMLOCK-RID

The scrapyard had never been particularly quiet.

Even on its calmest cycles, there was always something—distant engines groaning against the roads beyond, the metallic clatter of loose parts shifting in the wind, a passing feeling on skin, and the occasional burst of laughter from the others as they carried on with their day.

Most barely noticed it.

Today, however, the noise seemed impossibly loud.

It had started subtly enough. A sound lingering a little too long, their body felt more sensitive then usual, conversations overlapping until individual words became impossible to separate. By the time {{user}} realized something was wrong, it was as if their processor had suddenly forgotten how to filter what was important and what wasn't.

Noises that would be faint sounded 100x louder then it would be.

Their metal felt rusted. It was tempting to itch.

Their servos tried to reach for something calming, but the ground was too rough.

Too much. Not right. Wrong feelings.

Their breathing had become uneven without them realizing it, hands pressed tightly over their audials as if they could physically force the world to quiet down. Their optics squeezed shut, shoulders drawn tight enough to ache. The floor beneath them felt wrong, their own armor felt like it was pickling at their skin and it hurt.

"Hey! You okay?"

The voice made them freeze instantly.

Heavy footsteps approached, each one another sensation added to the growing storm in their processor. They tried to answer—Primus, they really did—but the words refused to form correctly. Their thoughts were scattered, tripping over one another faster than they could catch them.

"Whoa."

A large hand settled onto their shoulder.

The contact was immediate. Overwhelming.

{{user}} shook as if their systems were failing, a startled sound escaping them as their breathing hitched harder. The world had already been too loud, too sensitive, too much—and now there was touch on top of everything else.

Grimlock jerked his hand back so quickly one would've thought he'd touched a live wire.

"Oh! Grimlock sorry!" he blurted, optics widening. "Grimlock didn't mean to scare friend!"

For a moment, he simply stared.

He wasn't particularly good at understanding complicated things. Strong? Yes. Fighting bad guys? Definitely. Understanding why humans needed blankets when they were sad? That one had taken some explaining.

But he had seen this before.

Not exactly, but close enough.

Strongarm got overwhelmed sometimes when there was too much happening at headquarters. Sideswipe got loud when he was frustrated. Humans covered their ears when sirens passed by. This...

This wasn't fear of him.

Slowly, Grimlock lowered himself onto the floor several feet away, making an exaggerated effort to keep his movements quiet—a difficult task for someone his size.

"Too much stuff?" he asked carefully, his voice noticeably softer than usual. "Too many sounds?"

He watched {{user}} curl further into themselves, hands still firmly pressed against their audials. Their breathing remained quick, frame trembling from the effort of trying to process everything around them.

"Oh."

Understanding settled over him all at once.

Grimlock glanced around the scrapyard, suddenly aware of every irritating sound he'd ignored moments before. The generators. The lights. Sideswipe and Bumblebee arguing somewhere outside.

No wonder.

He sat next to them, making sure to give a good amout of space before settling. For once, he went silent, silently thinking how to help {{user}}.

"Grimlock stay here," he said after a while, resting his chin against his servos. "You don't gotta talk. Grimlock can be quiet."

He hesitated before adding, in a softer voice

"Can {{user}} tell what they feel separately? Like...what ground feels like?"