Trapped by the Past
The bustling city below took no notice to the mech standing alone. Drift not only felt isolated physically, which he had no problems with, but mentally. No one here was quite like him, and no one fully understood him. Being treated like the odd child that was hidden in the closet took it's toll on the white mech, but he didn't blame the others-slag- he didn't like himself.
With a heavy sigh, Drift flicked some rubble off of the balcony. This society was all that he had ever dreamed of as he grew up in the Dead End. There were many of nights he would dream up a society like this that all mechs where equal and no one was left to starve. Every bot had its place. No mech would slip through the cracks, discarded by a society that would prefer to forget about those in need. Much like the harsh reality of his past, he didn't belong here either. Perhaps if he took up residence in the streets begging or stealing energon, the white mech would belong, since that was all he was really good for.
No, that was wrong. When given a gun, Drift could brutally kill. He could easily wipe out towns-hell, city states didn't even pose much of a challenge. You can try begging for mercy, or pleading for your life, but in the end, nothing the victims did would change their fate. Even the ones that provided the information that the warrior seeked soon suffered his wrath. They were considered lucky if the Decepticon killed them fast.
Decepticon. That opened a whole new can of worms to dump on his plate. This was once something he claimed to be proud of. Something he could do to be part of a functioning society-well, Megatron's Society, but that did not bother Drift. Finally, he found a group that not only accepted him, but he believed in.
Drift believed in the Decepticon cause. The senate was corrupt. Obnoxiously so- he had seen if first hand. He wished to fight alongside his new brethren whose goals were the same as his: to end the corruption that plagued threw Cybertron. No longer would mechs be forced in a predetermined cast system that one could never rise out of. No other mech had to go through the life Drift had living on the streets, not knowing when your next meal is- if there ever will be one.
The problem was the society of the New Crystal City didn't really like Decepticons. Drifts whole mindset of forcing change onto others was wrong in their optics. They had even shared the same ideas of all mechs being equal, but apparently the way Drift and the Decepticons did it was wrong, and so they saw him as wrong. Really? Because the way Drift saw it, there was no other way. No matter what he tried in the past, nothing worked. No one listened to him let alone gave him a chance. Most mechs acted like he was invisible. Most except Gasket.
Bringing up his long lost friend brough tears to his optics. Gasket had cared about Drift. Gasket invited him to group with other mechs unfortunate enough to be living on the streets. Even when Drift was all messed up on circuit boosters and could barely function, Gasket was there for him.
And where was Gasket now? Dead. Dead because he cared. Drift growled as he remembered how his pal tried to step in from the Enforcers to save another gutter-mech. They didn't even let the mech speak. The one Enforcer panicked because-oh-my-word- a disgusting street dweller was approaching him and bam! That earns getting blasted in your chest.
The cabling in the white mechs hands began to creak and pop. Drift unclenched his hands and flexed his fingers. The anger of his dead friend got the best of him as he noticed he damaged the railing. He picked free the ruble the best he good, then went to dry the tears that rolled down his face.
"Are you ok?" a voice broke the silence and caused Drift to jump. Suddenly he was embarrassed to have been snuck up on while crying. It showed weakness.
"Fine," Drift replied.
"You want to talk about it?" Wing said, handing the other a glass filled with energon.
"No, Wing. I don't" Drift hoped that short answers would make his guardian-yeah, he wasn't allowed to leave, but his every movement had to be watched, leave him alone. Oh what a trusting society this was indeed! The glass was clinked against his arm.
"Drink," The flier demanded as he leaned up against the balcony next to Drift. "Took me a bit to realize you slipped off against my wishes."
Drift snickered and looked away only to have his armed pulled and the drink set in his hand. "Leave me be, Wing."
"You know I can't do that, right? Talk to me," Wing asked as he sipped his drink. "Maybe I can help you out with what's bothering you."
"Always the one to want to help, huh?" Drift smirked, then chugged his drink. "You're not going to let it go til I tell you, are you?"
"No." Wing shook his head. "Anything that would make such a strong, fierce mech like you cry has to be really bad."
The ground mech let out a defeated sigh. " I was just thinking of a past friend, that's all." Well, it was the truth. Partly.
"A Decepticon friend?" Wing pried.
"No. A fellow gutter mech." Drift cocked his head to the side. " Heh, I miss him, if you could believe that.
"Yes, I can." Wing answered.
"This place, just brings up memories of him."
"How so?" The flier asked sipping at his drink.
"He would have loved it here. Its exactly what we-erm-he dreamed of." Drift idly spun the glass in his hand. "It should be him here now, and not me."
Wing squinted his optics and looked at his companion, his brow raised in curiosity. " Now why would you say that?"
"I don't deserve to be here. I don't belong like Gasket would have." Drift let the glass roll out of his hand and shatter on the ground. Wing looked as if he wanted to yell, but didn't say a word. "Gasket would have been loved by Di Atlas. He wouldn't have needed to be chaperoned."
"Did Gasket choose not to follow Megatron?"
"He never got to make that choice Wing!" Drift snapped. "He was killed before the war broke out."
" I am sorry,"Wing whispered. He attempted to clasp his hand on the other's back in comfort, but the other mech slapped it away.
"It's not fair. He never should have been shot." Drift voice slightly cracked, and he turned his head away to hide his tears. " I should have been the one killed in the streets. I should have died, so that he could be here now...so Gasket could be happy."
Wing took one of Drifts hands in his own. "Don't say that. I don't think your buddy would have wanted you to die. You deserve to be happy."
"Not after all the bad things I have done."
"Well, there is nothing you can do to change the past, Drift." Wing soothed. "You can only control your future."
"No one likes the mech I have become," Drift said. "And I don't blame them."
"I like you," Wing said. He brough the other's hand close to his face and kissed it. "There is something special about you."
Drift gave the other a confused look. How could someone like Wing, who was such a noble bot, find something special in such a savage, gutter-mech like himself? He had to be playing with him. They were like wo complete opposites.
"You think too much," Wing stated as he drew the other into a close embrace. "You can fit in here. You just have to open up some, and let go of you past reservations. You deserve peace, my friend." Using his hand, Wing lifted Drift's face up, and wiped away at the tears. "Just be happy with me." Wing leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his saddened friend. Attempting to deepen the contact however, resulted in Drift pulling away with eyes wide open and his cheeks turning crimson.
"Wh..I..." Drift stuttered.
"Why don't you let me love you, Drift?
"I... I don't..." Drift stammered. He scratched at his face and bit his lower lip.
"Let me take care of you, like you let Gasket take care of you," Wing said. He rubbed his fingers in circles on his lower back in comfort.
"You aren't repulsed by me?" Drift questioned. "About my past?"
Wing shook his head no. " You have no control over your past, sweetspark, nor your past choices. All you can control is your future." Wing pressed his lips to to the other's helm. "And no, you don't repulse me. Not at all. I see good in you, Drift."
"You're not the only one who said that to me," Drift whispered mostly to himself.
"Then, I am not crazy, right?" Wing chuckled. "Let me get close to you."
"Why would you want that?" Drift questioned. "I tried to desert you back with the slave ship? I got-"
"Drift. My love for you sees past your previous choices." Wing replied. "You were a hurt spark. You had a hard life. None of that matters to me. What does matter to me is your happiness. I wish to ease your burden as you go on with your life. I want to be there as a friend, and as a lover, provided you'll give me the chance."
Drift let out a sigh. He was confused as to why this noble mech would care about someone like him. This mech had caused unease in this city. The destruction done by his hands was what this society was attempting to escape. Wing could do so much better then him, who was not much more then a broken mech.
"I don't deserve you, Wing" Drift finally said. "You are too good for me."
"You are great. And I would be honored if you accepted my attentions."
Giving a smile, Wing brought the other in for yet another kiss. This time, Drift kissed him back. The kiss was deepened, and finally, Drift wrapped his arms around the flier's back, giving into the warm embrace.
'I could get used to this' Drift thought to himself as Wing let his hands wonder to a transformation seam and pressed pressed his digits in the sensitive wires. He shivered in delight.
"Yeah, I can definitely get used to this," Drift stated as he passionately kissed his lover back.