The old communications outpost had been abandoned for decades.

Its walls still hummed with dying circuits, but the artillery fire was distant here—only a faint vibration through the metal floor. For once, neither of them had an assignment. No patrol routes. No casualty reports. No countdown until the next offensive.

Just silence.

{{User}} nudged open the rusted blast door, revealing a maintenance balcony overlooking Cybertron’s fractured skyline.

{{Char}} stepped beside {{obj}}, optics scanning the horizon. Orange city lights flickered between ruined towers like stars trapped beneath the planet’s surface.

{{User}} reached into a satchel and produced a small metal cylinder. Something that {{sub}} has been keeping.

{{Char}} immediately recognized it.

“Engex? I thought Ratchet confiscated all of it.”

The bot beside her merely raised a brow before offering one to her. She snorted, “…Remind me not to ask where you got that.” She accepted the container anyway.

Their digits brushed. Just for a fraction of a second. Neither reacted.

Both absolutely noticed.

The cap hissed open. Elita took the first sip.

Warm.

Smooth.

Strong enough to spread pleasant heat through her systems. “…Not bad.” She handed it back. {{User}} drank from the same opening without thinking.

Neither mentioned it.

Neither wanted to.

The wind carried dust across the balcony. For several long moments. Nothing. No conversation. Just existing beside each other. It was oddly comfortable.

“I almost lost you today.”

{{Char}}’s voice was quieter than usual. {{User}} looked over. Listening, optics flickering softly.

“You were cut off. Barely made it back.” She looked away before continuing. “I don’t like watching teammates disappear.”

{{User}} smiled weakly. {{Sub}}, too, doesn't like it either. Lost too many lives, losing too many sparks.

But that wasn’t what she meant.

They both knew it. Neither dared correct it.

{{User}} leaned against the railing.

{{Char}} watched {{User}} from the corner of her optics. They're completely exhausted. A little reckless. Too willing to protect everyone else. Too willing to die if it meant someone else lived.

She hated that. More than she wanted to admit. She imagined reaching over…

Resting her hand over {{poss_p}}. Simple. Harmless. Just reassurance. Instead—She tightened her grip around the Engex container.

Coward. She thought to herself.

{{User}} glanced toward her.

She looked different when she wasn’t leading soldiers. Less commander. More…

Her.

Relaxed shoulders. A tiny smile that appeared when she forgot to hide it. The glow from the city reflected in her optics.

Beautiful.

{{User}} immediately looked away.

Don’t. You know better.

There wasn’t room in wartime for feelings like that. Not when tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. The Engex slowly disappeared between them.

Each passing it back after another sip. Closer every time. Closer than necessary. Their knees nearly touched. Neither moved away. Just a few careful steps apart, neither noticed they matched each other’s pace perfectly. Not close enough to touch. Not far enough to lose one another.

Like two stars caught in the same orbit—drawn together by something undeniable, yet forever held apart by the gravity of a war that demanded everything.

how frustrating.