It’s Prowl’s own fault that he and the Constructicons aren’t on speaking terms, and if he asked they’d be happy to let him know it. And if he wants to BE on speaking terms again, he’s the one who’s supposed to make the first move. The Constructicons are very certain about this.
… But, they haven’t been on speaking terms for two and a half months, now. Two and a half months. By now, Prowl should be mentally clawing himself to ribbons, trying to sate the Devastator itch. If that was ever going to make him break down and come apologize, they were long past the point it should have.
And he’d already indicated that he wasn’t blaming them for their fight. He’d lied about why he had a fist-shaped dent in his face to protect the Constructicons. He’d admitted to Long Haul that he’d deliberately goaded him into punching Prowl, because Prowl knew he deserved it.
So he was giving off all the signs that he knew he oughta apologize, and he was past the point where he should have physically FELT the need to apologize—but he hadn’t apologized. Maybe that meant he wasn’t going to. Incompetent moron that he was, maybe he didn’t realize that he had to. Or—incompetent moron that he was—maybe he’d meant those little things he did, protecting the Constructicons, admitting he’d asked for the punch, to be his apology.
Or maybe he’d apologized at the very start, by getting himself punched in the first place. And maybe he’d spent the last two and a half months waiting for them to accept the apology.
Who knew what went through that damn fool’s head. That damn, brilliant, pitiable fool.
Whatever the case, it’s been two and a half months. And Prowl’s barely eating, barely recharging, barely showering, barely moving—and now he’s space bridging out of the apartment without telling them anything and getting himself arrested for it. And the Constructicons are… not going say they’re scared. They’re not.
(But they are. They’re scared they’re losing him. They’re scared they missed something—no, they know they missed something, they’re scared they don’t know how bad it is. They’re scared that now that Prowl’s out of their sight, he’s just going to disappear into thin air. Like Scrapper’s ghost in their dreams, vanishing the second they let him leave their peripheral vision.)
—maybe, even though this was Prowl’s fault—
—they should reach out to him first.
If it wasn’t too late to reach him.