Clear sat on the wooden stool next to the antique bed that he had shared with Aoba for the last few decades. His hand held his master's limp hand, sagging with wrinkles and covered with a few moles. This was the day they had feared for in their younger days, the one that they kept hidden in their back in their mind. They both knew that they'd cross this bridge when they came to it but now… Clear didn't know what to do. Aoba was lying in bed the same way his grandfather had, eyes struggling not to close and stay that way. His eyebrows focused on Clear's forever youthful face.
"Toue didn't program me for this, Aoba-san…" He held Aoba's hand to his cheek and wept softly, a slight smile creeping up on the memories that they were able to share together. A love between a robot and a human seemed impossible but here they were. Clear wasn't programmed to have a heart but yet with his chosen master, the one he died for, he could feel something almost unreal. Aoba's arm shook as he wiped the tears off the robot's face, their hair now matching in color due to his age.
"Thank you, Clear." He smiled weakly at him. He was content this way. If he died, he would want it to be next to the one he loved. Clear shook his head but held onto Aoba's hand. "No, master. I should thank you. You taught me… how to feel." Aoba's hand was lead down to his partner's chest to where a heart would be located under skin, muscle, and bone. "You taught my non-existent heart to feel."
Tears went down his face, dropping onto his pale white shirt. "Clear, I love-" His last words were cut off by the scythe of death, making it as short and sweet as possible. He died, thinking of me. Clear thought, the tears staining Aoba's still warm face. "I'll see you again, Aoba-san." He whispered sweetly to his dead darling's ear, gripping the handle of the knife he had used in Platinum Jail tightly in one hand. "I love you too." He replied back to the man who would never be able to respond again before driving the blade into the right side of his head, looking back to the mirror he had been afraid to look in without Aoba's sweet words assuring him that he had a normal face, watching as pieces of him started to deteriorate and fall like snowflakes, mixing in with the red liquid that could best be described as blood.
No one found their bodies, the robot whose body got taken over by nature with several insects making a home out of the different spaces between the limbs and the one who was chosen for Scrap, his body decomposing. Never were they able to meet again. Not even in the afterlife they had thought of. After all, robots don't have souls,