Archive of Our Own

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝
𝚘𝚑 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢?
𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝
'𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝?

Megatronus held the crystal as if it was the most precious and delicate thing in his life.

It wasn't entirely true, because there he was Orion Pax, currently staring at it until the grey framed mech grew nervous

"You're early."

He didn't move his optics even while talking to his lover.

"I am, but I wanted to give it to you before I destroyed it by accident. I have seen how much you like crystals, I hope I'm not mistaken."

The smaller mech took the crystal in his hands.

"You're not. I'm sorry for staring is just... Seeing a fragile and small object being held by a big and nervous mech who doesn't know what to do to stop his servos from crushing it adds something to the experience of receiving a gift"

"Oh, please..."

Megatronus avoided his gaze and Orion laughed shortly, he could even imagine the long night cycles with the mech in front of it staring at the crystal asking himself how could he even touch it without breaking it.

Little did Pax knew that Megatronus had to actually practice and not just stare at it.

When he allowed his optics to return to the blue and red mech in front of him, suddenly the object became even more beautiful. Just like if that light blue and gold crystal had been made to shine in Orion's servos all along.

Oh to be held by Orion Pax...

"I'll give you mine as soon as I can, then"

But the smile that Pax directed at him was nothing compared to how he looked at his gift.

Megatronus began to notice that his lover's adoring gazes were reserved for fragile and small crystals. And he smiled as well.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜,
𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚢
𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚞𝚗
𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚔𝚢.

Orion's gift never touched Megatronus' servos. The next time they saw each other was with revenge, treason and deep, deep sadness.

Cold, bloody, murderous and not forgiven optics watched directly at Pax's spark before looking away. To a place Orion Pax was never able to reach.

Megatronus didn't stop to see the way his lover's spark was crushing piece by piece, slower than death, faster than fairness from a crown. Desperate and loving optics were never corresponded. Not again. Never again.

𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜?
𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝
𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍?

If Orion thought that was bad enough, he knew nothing.

Millenia away, they were looking at each other again.
But Optimus Prime was no Orion Pax. He didn't have loving optics.

And so they held their stare. And like a lie that has way too much story behind, it breaks.

And it breaks.

And it breaks.

Over and over again. But it doesn't matter, they don't protect their treacherous emotions with walls or fortress. There's no winter to fear if you renounce to any heat.

After all, they aren't in love.

And that's all their eyes have to say.
But, of course, as sometimes the sun rises in winter and the stars break the endless dark of the night, the usually stoic red lets some of blue get in.

Poisoning him.

L̶o̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶.

But, as everything in this universe, it doesn't last long enough. And Optimus finds himself wishing he could be as emotionless as everyone thought he was, again.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜,
𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕,
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎
𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎,
𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞,
𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

"Where are we, Megatronus?"

Primus be damned, Megatron could only stare at him as if the answer lied in those innocent and bright blue optics.

How could a simple gaze change so much throughout the years? How did they reach this point? When did those little stars gave up to the deathly dark until he could no longer remember the love behind them? The spark behind them?

But from war to love, which one ends the worst?

"Don't you remember, old friend?"

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚘 '𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎
𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚍
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍?

"Here."

Ratchet put a datapad into Optimus' open servo.

The bigger mech looked at it in awe. And then at his friend in the same way.

"Don't give me that look. I would have thrown it away if I didn't already know how much it means to you."

"Thank you, old friend. I suppose it was a difficult decision to make."

Ratchet simply watched him.

"We all have our, as humans would say, anchors. And as much as I'm against it, I know you can't help that yours is that old, impossible to find and rather unknown poem that never reached its… destiny."

"It's true. I can't. But maybe I should learn to. It's been millions of years."

"You've always been too soft and too strong at the same time, Optimus, don't start changing now. It has made you who you are."

Prime relaxed only a little and proceeded to only stare at that datapad. At that beautiful mix of words that never got to shine at its rightful eyes.

Megatronus was wrong. Optimus and Orion's adoring gazes were reserved for all the things that made him remember his ethereal love.

𝙾𝚑 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕,
𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚘𝚍𝚜
𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝,
𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝,
𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖.
𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎
𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

His almost gold frame could not be more strange to Optimus.
But his words, what was he saying?
Was it all a lie again?
Megatron, his nemesis, admitting the error of his ways?
But the Autobot leader didn't need anything else, and he knew it.

Instead of talking, explaining and saying meaningless words of regret, he just stared.

They both understood each other perfectly at that moment. Not as sworn enemies or opposite leaders, but as lovers with a tragic end.

And Megatron flew away. Escaping, maybe, from himself. From a home that darkened too long ago.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢
𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑
𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜
𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎.

Big peds entered the narrow, lame and solitary cave. And the sound the ground beneath them produced made it hard for the bot to imagine being someone else, someone lighter and softer. A past that was buried even deeper than this place. And even so, everything he could do was to hope.

Trapped in his own thoughts, the last and cruel words of that rusty and old poem lying into his subspace felt a lot heavier.

But for such an endless walk, he saw light right away.

And regretful, expectant and desperate red met hopeful and loving blue.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢,
𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛,
𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝙸'𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎,
𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜
𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜.