The base stood quiet. The wind gently blew waves across the grass, like waves across the sea, and the stars splashed across the night sky so brightly it seemed like you were looking into infinity. You lay on the grass, feeling its cool stems, and next to you was Optimus, huge, but at that moment, surprisingly calm. His head rested on your stomach, and you felt the weight of his helmet, but it wasn't a burden, more like a reminder of trust and closeness. His right hand was intertwined with yours, his metal fingers and yours — two different worlds, yet perfectly matched. With your left hand, you slowly, with particular tenderness, ran your hand over his helmet, feeling the cold metal and the lines left by time and battle.

The night was so quiet that the only sounds you could hear were your breathing, the measured rhythm of your heart, and the distant rustling of the forest. The world stood still, granting you a rare peace.

"If I was the moon, would you still look for the stars?" — Your voice was barely audible, as if you were afraid to disrupt this fragile harmony.

Optimus moved his fingers slightly, squeezing your hand tighter, and his low voice responded softly, like a string.

"Only if you promise me to shine forever."

You smiled, but a shadow of doubt flickered in it. Your breath caught, and you said, a little quieter.

"But... What if I can't shine forever?"

He looked up, and his blue optics met your eyes. There was no hesitation in them – only a vow and certainty.

And then — as if the world itself had decided to end this peace. Everything changed abruptly.

A flash. A battle. Explosions thunder in the distance, and the starry sky is torn apart by fiery trails of gunfire. You're no longer lying in the grass – the cold ground beneath you is soaked with soot and dust. Optimus holds you in his arms, pressing you to him, and his voice is no longer calm — it's broken, ragged.

You're mortally wounded. A sharp pain pierces your chest, your breathing becomes labored, and every attempt to inhale is echoed in the blood trickling down your lips. His huge hands hold you carefully, as if afraid to break what's already almost shattered.

Everything around you begins to distort. The explosions are muffled, as if someone is yanking out the sound. The world begins to lag: the horizon lines tremble, the image seems to be torn to pieces, and fragments flash before his eyes — the grass under the stars, where you stroked his helmet... the blood on his fingers when he tries to stop it... your words about the moon, echoing.

He turns his gaze to you. The world around him is crumbling — trees bend, streetlights tremble, the ground cracks, as if reality can't bear his pain. Everything slows. He hears only your fading voice, barely audible through the blood and breath.

"Optimus... You... Can you hear me?"

His eyes widen, and there's despair in them. His system seems to overload, his vision "doubled," as if he sees two worlds at once: the one where you're alive and stroking his helmet under the stars... And this one, where you're dying in his arms. Every moment becomes torture, his heart clenches as if it's breaking from within.

"I... Can't... Breathe..."

You wheezed, barely finding him with your optics. And all around there was chaos, smoke, fire. The peaceful atmosphere vanished in an instant, leaving behind destruction and it seemed dead hope.