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I didn’t recognize the bot in the distance. The sliver and red wings that used to shoot up when they saw me. The smile that made his face plates crinkle up with pure innocence. The optics that shined when motivated, the servos that created dreams. The click of his heels making those in his way step aside in the halls of the academy.
The bot I saw in the halls was a cruel copy. His wings, his cruel smirk, his cold red optics, the blood stained claws, and the sickening clicks of his heels. They make my spark split in two; longing and sorrow.
How does one go on? I asked myself this question for vorns to come, sought for another answer. Looking past the deception that he stood for to see those kind optics once again. The gentle crinkle of his smile and the small laugh. How does one move on from all those soft moments that happened yesterday so long ago? Last moments, the last moments of me, of him.
Of us.
The cracking of the ice shattered us more and more, the cold, snowy nights that I waited. The longing to touch the spark that could have warmed me; yet to go frozen. The tears I silently shed when the autonomy of my predicament held him still. How does one build a fire to warm us once more?
Can one warm what is frozen? What is so bare of love and… and of what? Can I justify the fact that what we had is always going to be a reminder to us both?
So my little soldier, will you win a war with your ego? To be his army dreamer? Or will you be a politician, within the dangers of the world but in my calm waters. My dear army dreamer…