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Rodimus took another drag of his cy-garette optics on the glittering city skyline. The lights shone brightly against the darkness of the night, mimicking stars that are soon to be hidden by yet another sunrise. Life goes on. That’s just how it is.
Cybertron is finally fully restored once again, and peaceful for once. He ex-vented some of the smoke that poisoned his vents one day after the other in a slow whittle. A lot has changed, some for the better, and some for the worse.
“Is it dusk or dawn?” The red mech jolted up straight and hurried to stub his little friend out before his conjunx noticed it.
“It’s dawn, hun.” He answered, turning to face him with a soft smile on his face.
“Okay.” Springer nodded lightly with a smile of his own though he clearly wasn’t there.
“Want some fuel?” The red mech asked, digits grasping the sturdy railing behind him.
“No. I’m good.” The triplechanger said before retreating back into their abode just as quietly as he came.
It didn’t use to be this way... Rodimus’ optics fell to the floor and his frame sagged. He focused on the sharp taste of poison on his glossa, his only source of relief as of late.
Springer had been out for many years after what Overlord did to him. It made sense. Rodimus thought he could deal, and he did. The red mech visited as often as he could, glad that his intended survived his helm being crushed into pieces, and hopeful that he’d be able to see him again, really see him, and he did, but Springer was no longer the same. Rodimus expected as much. Ratchet told him about the processor damage and how severe it could be. There was no way for them to tell with him still out, but he had long accepted it by that point. He just wanted the green mech back no matter what shape he was in...
At first, Springer seemed mostly fine. His memory was shot, but he was able to recollect some things with time and a bit of help. The once proud Wrecker has become incredibly docile though, an easy target for anyone who meant him harm, and there were many... That wasn’t much of a problem. Rodimus can protect them both, and he did. He handled the house, finances, escorted his then intended to and back from the clinic every appointment, everything and anything for the mech he missed oh so much.
The red mech was hopeful. Things were hard, but still manageable. Then came the heavy blow... Springer started repeatedly asking him simple questions about trivial things like the time and what day it was. He’d ask once, then twice, then thrice, and Rodimus would repeat his answers confused. Springer wasn’t messing with him, it was clear on his face, so why...?
Processor damage... severe processor damage... Ratchet told him Springer was in the early stages of cognitive decline... his processor was giving out...
He asked for a cure, there is none. A fix? None. And Rodimus was left to face the bitter reality of the mech he loved slowly fading away right before his eyes should he choose to stay. He was “advised” to surrender his beloved to a care facility and go live his life. Never! He would never do such a thing to his love! Everyone thought of him as unserious and fickle, and he might be so, but not when it comes to matters of the spark. So Rodimus finally asked the question, spark bright and ready.
“Will you accept me as your conjunx?”
Springer’s face gave in to shock. He was much more lucid back then. His features softened and a happy smile broke on those handsome faceplates like dawn.
“Yes.”
The two kissed, long and passionately as their exposed sparks mingled together in an electric embrace sending addictive jolts of pleasure down their backstruts.
They don’t do much now. They don’t need to because Rodimus will always love him all the same. All he needed was the time they spend together, whether sitting in silence, snuggling, or holding hands, things that are getting sparce as time goes by but still remain.
Springer barely talks to him nowadays and there are times where he’s just sitting there not doing anything, just plain out of it, and it hurts, but it’s okay, the red mech thought staring into the living room through the balcony door, because that’s the mech he swore his love and spark to eternally, and he will be with him until the bitter end. He would never leave Springer to suffer all alone, even if it hurt him to see him like that, even if it stole all his youth, because he was worth the world and all its inhabitants to him, always has, and always will.