#slight ratchop

The feeling of it enveloping him, him resenting it only to completely change and later pity Optimus in his inability to act on it. How he yearned and adored so easily, and how naive he was in doing so. A painful rejection and the endless fickleness of another that he pinpointed as the direct cause of his passivity.

Feeling traces of a comforting servo, phantom touches not meant for him. Thinking Optimus an idiot for not reciprocating whatever it was between him and Rachet in that small pocket of time where everything wasn't so bad.

Getting the knowing feeling in the pit of his chassis of "Its not the right time" and then having a further feeling that it would never be the right time and to crush any affections, forcing it to fade until he sees him again in a memory eons later in empty longing.

The weird guilt that consumes him when passing a specific pillar. The familiar smell of rusting data pads lingering far off, but only existing within himself.

Speaking a secret, he wasn't supposed to know, aloud. Cringing at the memory of a gentle voice he only ever heard as a grating scratch beforehand echoing in his ear, a painful reminder that every other bot has changed.

Looking at how dull everyone's colors have become, never quite being able to return to their once bright and glossy finish no matter how many times one polished it.

A tryst being revealed to him in the middle of a dull meeting. An anger that failed to be quelled surfacing immediately after.

The reflection of his mentor staring right back at him, a remorseful look before anxiety starts chipping away at him. A restless tapping of his own servo on the nearest surface following soon after in an attempt to soothe.

It wasn't real.

A twinge of betrayal and embarrassment washing over him at the sound of bots conversing nearby.

Not one of his memories, either.

They tended to blur together at times.

A grounding moment when he stops middstep, caught in the euphoric moment he(Optimus) first came online.

A quiet moment where the dread left him and nothing mattered, his failures being the only thing that existed. The feeling of failure hanging on so tightly it might've been the only thing he had ever truly felt.

Hearing the whispers of reassurance, but only ever convincing himself it as insincere. Still feeling lonely.

A bot yelling at him,an argument, then an apology right after. They hadn't meant it. It didn't matter, though, because it still hurt.

A cold chill resting within his frame and the immediate relief of it dissappearing right after entering one of the few temples still left standing.

Hearing a song of some sort, an odd comfort lying in it. A recognition in the voice but not the ancient language they were speaking in. The pride welling within him as he stared into the blue of his creations optics. A gasp at seeing Bee's once gold finish and an even more devastating frown in knowing he'd never be whole again.

A stable silence when it recalled Hot Rod's appearance pre-matrix. A glimmer of hope in seeing streaks of orange and red blur past him, soon followed after by a familiar blue.

A rush of disappointment when Hot Rod would argue and provide indifferent words. A sense of fear being triggered by Rod's irresponsible behaviors. An illusion of providing him freedom. The sorrow that came with letting him do as he pleased because he knew there would be no time for it later. Words of reprimand being ignored.

Feeling complete as the energy in his spark returned to Primus in appreciation.

Seeing his own face in the eyes of his mentor and not feeling the betrayal of the trap he had been tricked to scheme, but an empathy overcoming him as he saw his form coming to the realization that he'd been decieved.

A sadness in knowing that this would be the last time he'd see him.

A deep seated sympathy at the events yet to occur, but sure to come. An even greater guilt because he spared him from the pain early on, but in doing so, he left him ill-prepared. Having more to say but cutting things short because he knew he was out of time.

Feeling other bots sparks across the universe, a faint worried tug pulling back in response to his despair and him tugging back in assurance.

The inevitability of the matrix freeing itself from his chassis, and it's glow hugging the both of them.

The relief in knowing that this time would be different. That he wouldn't be alone like he was. The plans and safety nets he put in place for him to use later on lying in wait.

An incomplete resolution to the events that started it all.

A final prayer to Primus and the primes before their fall, to safekeep and guide their newcomer.

And for the first time in all his existence, he feels the love, once thought to never exist, he kept buried for him, overflowing, as if there was no end; no longer being held back by the duty and sacrifice that the matrix plagued him with.