A Dream Is A Wish Your Spark Makes: Chapter 6
A/N: Sorry! Had this chapter finished for a while! But just kept forgetting to post it lol! Hopefully I can get myself used to being on a schedule again! Hope it was worth the wait! Xxxxxxx
Ao3
"You stole the Prince from your brothers!" Punch screamed, the sound scraping against Jazz's over sensitive audials.
"He's a person!" Jazz shouted hack, standing to face his Step-Sire. "He wasnt there's to steal!"
"Well whatever you stole to pay for that visor certainly was!"
"I didnt steal anything!"
Punch snorted.
"Oh really? Are you trying to tell me that Primus gave you that visor himself?"
For once Jazz held his tongue. He knew there was no point in trying to reason with Punch. He'd always known that. Even as he held onto the hope that Punch would remember how to love him.
Except now, even if just for one night, Jazz had felt what love was supposed to feel like. He now knew it wasnt something he should've had to slave for.
And he would be his Step-Sire's slave no longer.
As Punch once again opened his intake, Jazz rushed forwards.
Startled, Punch was too slow to strike as Jazz as grabbed ahold of the doorframe, vaulting around his Step-Sire.
But Punch had always been one to roll with the punches.
Just as Jazz sprung from where he'd landed on the old floorboards, aiming for the rail of the attic's spiral stairs, Punch grabbed his doorwings, dragging him to the floor.
Jazz's doorwings might not be as sensitivities as a Praxians', but it still stung.
Despite this, Jazz tried to reach for the edge of the staircase, hoping to pull himself over the side. He knew it would hurt, having been pushed down from here before. But it was his quickest escape route. So it would have to do.
Or it would have if Punch hadn't kept a denting grip on his wings. So Jazz rolled the other way, turning his head to bite the servo.
But Punch was quicker, stabbing a blade through the window of Jazz's doorwings, pinning him like a cybug to the floor.
With a cry, Jazz rolled down his window, managing to dislodge the knife, even if it shattered the remaining glass. Now free, he tried to roll towards the edge instead. But Punch kicked him in the face, shattering his already blinded optics.
Jazz grabbed the broken shards of his own glass, throwing them at his Step-Sire, hearing a satisfing yelp as it hopefully hit home.
Jazz staggered to his feat, running forwards to what he hoped was towards the top of the stairs. Even if he sent them both tumbling down the staircase, Jazz would have still acumplished his goal.
Jazz heard the whoosh of air, He ducked the punch but couldn't avoid the kick that came after, sending Jazz crashing backwards, his helm hitting the familar hard floor of his berthroom.
Before Jazz could even sit up, he heard the click of the deadlock.
Despite his burning helm ache, Jazz managed to stagger back to the dolr. Without working optics, it took Jazz longer than usual to jammy open the lock.
But that was useless, since Punch must have piled something heavy on front of the door as no matter how hard Jazz threw himself at the door, it wouldn't budge open. He carried on throwing himself at the door, trying to dislodge whatever was behind it. But with each hit, he could hear that it hadn't move, all Jazz cumplished was dislocating his shoulder.
"You can't keep me in here!" He cried, knowing that even on the other side of the house that Punch would hear him.
He wasn't suprised to get no reply.
This was hardly the first time Punch had locked him away.
Therefore Jazz knew that here was no point in wasting away his energy. His best chanve to escape would be to wait till Punch came back with his evening energon.
So Jazz waited, taking the time to try to patch himself with the meager medical supplies he had hidden away. He did his best with his self taught knowledge, but his servo's were unusually uncoordinated.
Jazz hadn't had a cube since before the ball, his injured wings and optics, only draining his reserves faster.
Punch didn't come back that night. Again, Jazz wasn't surprised. It also wasn't the first time his Step-Sire refused him fuel.
But Punch didn't give him any the next day either. And by the third day, Jazz's reserves had become critical.
"Please! I'm in the red! I'll die!"
Jazz knew with their Polyhexian hearing that his family could all hear him. But his calls went answered. At some point, Jazz thought he heard two sets of identical footsteps just outside his reinforced cell. But if they had belonged to his step=siblings, they hadn't done anything to help him.
Eventually Jazz could no longer move, lying on the floor of his berthroom in his own energon, without even the energon left to wipe it off.
It took until his systems started shutting down for him to realise that whilst Jazz had been waiting for his moment to strike, Punch had quietly been waiting for him to die.
Jazz was well aware by now that Punch would never love him, if he ever had.
But even if he didn't love him, Jazz hadn't thought that meant that Punch hated him enough to let him die.
Well if Jazz were to die, he refused to go quietly.
So he sang.
He sung straight from the spark, singing everything he wished he'd had the courage to say.
It didn't matter that no one except Primus would hear him.
For his voice was the one thing Punch hadn't stolen from him.
So even if he was alone, he would sing down to his last vent.
"JAZZ!"
The cry of his name startled Jazz from his song.
For a moment, he thought that Primus had come early, that He were here to guide Jazz to his next journey.
But then he heard it again.
"JAZZ!"
And this time, Jazz's acute audials recognised the voice.
Jazz tried shout back, but to opening his intake one last time used up the last of his reserves.
The last thing he remembered were a pair of brilliant blue optics, before everything went black.
