See you later

A/N: I didn't look back over this after typing it out cause I was sobbing my eyes out for several hours straight while writing this

The warm hand in his own. Warm presence by his side. That warm smile reserved just for him.

Long walks underneath the stars, fingers intertwined. Warmth between them despite the bitter cold of night.

Remote planets where they were the only life there, not a care in the universe. Enjoying each other's company, taking strolls by the beach, not another soul for light years. Sometimes talking about little nothings, other times just enjoying the comfortable silence between them. Reminiscing on times past. Hopeful for the future ahead of them. Thinking of roads they would travel, hand in hand. Together.

Warmth blossomed in his spark, threatening to burst. He had never been so content in his life. It took millions of years to get to this point. Two sparks coming together at just the right time in their lives. Maybe he was the only one of them to believe in fate, but there was no doubt in his mind this was meant to be. He was finally complete.

But what Drift kept forgetting over and over again, was that fate was cruel. He was always destined to be alone, and no matter how many times he learned that lesson, he still fell for it. Every single time.

The hand once warm in his own, was now cold, grayed out. Lifeless.

Darkened, unfocused optics still tilted towards him. The last thing Ratchet saw was his face. What his expression was, he'd never know. His masks rarely worked on Ratchet. But Drift tried his best to put on a brave face, show that he could heal from this. Ratchet deserved to leave knowing that Drift would be alright. That he could go on without him, still be happy with what he had. With what they created together.

"You can go now, Ratchet. Go rest. I'll be alright."

Fingers brushed Ratchet's face, cupping it in his hands. Ratchet was gone. Drift was alone.

He wasn't alright.

Coolant dribbled onto Ratchet's face as the tears came free. Drift couldn't hold them back anymore.

Pressing their forehelms together, he tried to sense Ratchet behind shuttered optics. To feel his presence, his aura, something, anything. To see his smirk as he leaned forward and pecked Drift's nasal ridge before pulling away with a laugh.

His optics were met with only gray. A blank expression, devoid of any life.

Ratchet was cold to the touch, all heat having left his frame. Drift climbed up next to him on the slab, determined to share his warmth. He knew that was pointless. He still did it anyway.

"You shouldn't let your frame get so cold, Ratch. Isn't that what you're always telling me?"

Arms wrapping around, he pulled Ratchet closer. He was so cold. "I'll keep you warm. Don't worry."

No answer.

Vents hitched in his intake. Drift pulled Ratchet's helm into his shoulder. "I know what I said to you. It was a lie. I'm sure you already know that."

The silence was deafening.

A sob. "You can't do this to me. Don't leave me. Not now. Not you too…"

Ratchet's spark casing rested next to him. Drift held it in his hands. He pressed it up against his chest. He felt nothing. Only the pulse of his own spark, aching so horribly. His own stupid spark, still going healthy as ever, while he was expected to just be handed Ratchet's. Empty. Hollow.

"Forever yours?" The tears came faster. "Forever yours?"

"How could you do this to me? Forever? " Sobs hiccuped from his intake as he buried his face in Ratchet's chestplate. "Then where are you? Don't just leave me. Don't leave. Please…"

This was all his fault. His own stupid, stupid fault. Getting close to people. Opening his spark. Just to have it ripped away. Every time. And every time it hurt. More and more. But this… this was too much. It was too much. He couldn't bear it.

Why? Why give him something so wonderful, so beautiful, for so many years… just to snatch it away? Was this just some cruel joke? Is this all his life was, just a collection of failures, each more spark wrenching than the last? Was the universe sitting back and laughing at his pain? …Did he deserve it? Maybe he did.

"Please. Please, Ratchet. Come back. I can't do this without you…"

Ratchet didn't answer.

Of course he didn't. He was gone. There was no one home. Drift had been talking to an empty shell. As if that would change anything. He was still alone. Alone and cold in the dark.

Drift sat above him, hands clasped over his own. There was despair in his face. He was trying to hide it, but Ratchet saw right through it. He wanted to reassure Drift, comfort him, but couldn't find his voice. Time was almost up, spark growing weaker by the second.

"You can go now, Ratchet. Go rest. I'll be alright."

Liar.

Drift was already falling apart, Ratchet could see it. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't form words. They had already said their goodbyes. There had been plenty of time to prepare for what they both knew was coming. But now, with only moments left, Ratchet wasn't ready to go. He wasn't ready. He needed to speak to Drift. Hold his hand. Embrace him. Tell him so many things.

But he couldn't. It was too late.

Tears started beading in Drift's optics as Ratchet's visual feed began to darken.

Don't cry, Drift. Don't cry over me.

Drift couldn't hear him.

"Please. Please, Ratchet. Come back. I can't do this without you…"

Oh Drift…

Ratchet looked down at Drift, curled up against Ratchet's grayed out frame, sobbing and shaking.

He tried making his way down to where Drift was, but moving without a physical form was exceptionally difficult. Who knew the afterlife was so inconvenient. Not him, because he refused to believe it was real. Still, Ratchet wasn't going to let this opportunity slip, even if he had to damage his pride in the process.

Eventually moving down, Ratchet tried placing a hand on Drift's helm. It passed through. Drift twitched, but otherwise had no reaction. Whether that was a coincidence or not was beyond Ratchet. He tried again.

Drift. Drift… I'm right here. Stop crying. Please. Stop crying…

Drift held on tighter to Ratchet's frame, completely wracked with sobs. He couldn't sense Ratchet.

Ratchet kept on trying to stroke Drift's helm, hoping that at some point he would feel it. It pained him to see Drift like this. To be so close, and yet unable to comfort him.

Drift, come on. Can't you sense me? I'll start praying if I have to. And you know how desperate I'd have to be to do that.

Drift didn't answer.

Ratchet continued to follow Drift. Everywhere he went, so did Ratchet. Watching his own funeral was certainly an experience. He hated seeing everyone mourn him. Seeing them shed tears over him. Over him. Surely their tears were better used elsewhere. Maybe Thunderclash had the right idea. Throwing a party. He'd much rather they all had a good time, rather than standing around missing him lecturing them over injuring themselves in increasingly stupid ways.

Drift had his mask on, as usual. Polite smile, thanking people for coming. Burying his hurt down deep.

You idiot. You can't just bottle this up. You'll hurt yourself.

Rodimus showed up late, as expected. He looked absolutely miserable. A twinge of regret in his spark. Ratchet really should've made more of an effort to reach out. Drift and Rodimus had been so close back then. Maybe it would be good for the both of them to stick together. Heal together.

But then Rodimus left. They parted ways with empty promises to keep in touch. Just like back then.

Drift. Drift, don't cut everyone else off. Don't shut yourself away. You need them, not me.

Drift got back to their shared home, door hissing shut, and immediately crumpled. His chest heaved with sobs, back pressed up against the door.

Drift…

"Why?!"

The cloak was torn from his shoulders and thrown out into the room. It fluttered down slowly, which only seemed to enrage Drift further. He snatched a nearby vase, looking as though he would throw it too, but stopped before he could, curling in on himself, weeping and hitting the floor with closed fists.

"Why? Why? Why…"

Ratchet crouched down beside him, rubbing his back. Or, trying to.

"Why did you leave me, Ratchet? I can't do this….I can't…"

I'm right here. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere.

"What am I supposed to do? I don't know what to do…" Drift's face was buried in his arms, still curled up on the floor.

Drift, you don't need me to tell you that. You've done so many amazing things on your own. You've built yourself up into such an incredible person. And I know you'll still be that beautiful spark with or without me.

Drift didn't hear him.

Drift had locked himself in the washroom, despite by his knowledge, being the only one home. Ratchet stayed outside, wanting to give Drift his privacy, but they were coming on hour three and he was still in there. Reluctantly, Ratchet passed through the door. He supposed the afterlife did have its perks.

Drift sat underneath the faucet spray, solvent running down his frame as he stared at nothing. Ratchet joined him, slightly relieved to find that ghosts couldn't get wet.

Drift… you've been in here for three hours. Come on, think of the bill you're racking up.

He knew that was ridiculous. Drift had more than enough to cover things like that.

Drift stood up and turned the faucet off, almost as if Ratchet's nagging crossed barriers somehow.

They laid in their shared berth now. Drift had taken Ratchet's preferred side, back facing him. Ratchet found it a bit difficult to not phase right through the berth to the ground. A noise beside him. Shoulders shook with barely contained sobs. Drift pulled the blanket fully over himself, crying softly.

How long would this go on? How long would he be forced to watch Drift tear himself apart without being able to do a thing about it? Why even let him be here in the first place then?

Drift turned over and Ratchet could barely see his helm poking out underneath the blanket. He brought something up to his face. Ratchet's spark casing. He touched it to his cheek, optics shuttered. Vents hitched as Drift brought it down to his chest, holding it there tenderly. Ratchet got a better look at his face, streaked in coolant. He'd never seen Drift look so sparkbroken.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to leave Drift alone. He didn't want to leave Drift alone.

He would give anything for Drift to hear him. To hold his hand. To wipe the coolant from his face.

Ratchet reached out and touched Drift's hand.

"Ratchet…?"

His spark casing glowed faintly in Drift's hold. Drift could see him if he touched it.

Ratchet took his other hand and gently stroked Drift's face.

Right here. I haven't left you. I promise.

"But- but you're dead."

No need to rub it in.

Drift pulled the blanket down. "How-"

You're the one who believes in all this mystical gibberish, you tell me.

Ratchet didn't get much more in before finding himself wrapped tightly in Drift's arms. He made sure to keep contact with the spark casing, wedged somewhere between them.

"Ratchet… I missed you… I missed you so much." His words mumbled together through his sobs. "So much."

I know. I've been with you. I'm sorry it took so long for me to contact you. I meant it when I said forever. I won't leave you alone again. Consider yourself haunted for eternity.

Drift wiped his optics and huffed a laugh. "Until I join you."

Don't you dare.

"Well someday I will die, and you're just going to have to accept that."

It better be in excellent health from natural causes, or you'll be hearing from me for the next two eternities. I will be making sure you're taking proper care of yourself, so be ready.

"Alright…"

Drift held tight to Ratchet, making no move to let go. His vents evened out, no longer erratic from crying.

"It's your spark casing, isn't it? That lets me see you."

Seems like it. Maybe don't carry it around in public though.

"Aw, why not? Feeling bashful?"

Excuse me for not wanting the whole universe to see my internal organ out on display, dead or not.

"Fair enough."

Leave it here. We can talk every night. I'll be here. I've got mountains of paperwork I still need to finish anyway.

"You just can't stop working, can you?"

Don't think you're off the hook. Until I can figure out how to interact with the physical world, I'll need a scribe. It's just too bad you can't teach my class for me.

"What a shame…"

Drift snuggled himself closer, resting his helm over Ratchet's chest. Probably trying to listen to his spark. Drift's face fell.

Drift… I think you should call Rodimus. Invite him over. Heck, invite him to live with you.

Drift tensed.

…With us.

"You really think so? …Do you think he'd say yes?"

Won't hurt to try. I really… I think you both need each other right now. You can't spend all your time talking to a ghost, Drift. Even if that ghost is your Conjunx.

"Alright…I'll give him a call."

Maybe it wouldn't ever be the same. Maybe he couldn't make Drift truly happy again, but as long as he could watch over him and let him know he was loved… well maybe that was good enough. And Drift would eventually heal. He'd go on to share his beautiful spark with others someday. And Ratchet would be watching. Proud.

A knock at the door, a muffled voice. "Drift? Drift… you home?"

Well speak of the devil. He didn't even have to call.

Drift pulled back. "I should go to him." He stopped, hand on the spark casing. "See you later?"

Go on, I'll be here. See you later.

Drift got up, placing the spark casing carefully on his desk. He stopped to look back at the berth. Ratchet waved him on, knowing full well Drift couldn't see him anymore.

Drift waved back.

He could hear the door open. Hushed voices.

Ratchet peeked around the corner to find Drift holding Rodimus in a warm embrace, and smiled.

He would be alright.

A/N: I randomly started crying about lost light 25 while taking a walk outside last night in the dark so I needed to get this out of my system

Thank you for reading 😭