Drift has been haunted by the quiet gap between you both for what feels like an eternity. The words he’s longed to say, the ones that might pull you from the darkness of the Decepticons, are just out of reach. He doesn’t know when the divide began—maybe it was the day you chose your path, or maybe it was the day he left, choosing redemption over the battle you both fought so fiercely.

Now, he stands in the stillness of an old, abandoned battlefield—one that’s seen too many scars of war. The flickering of distant fires and the smoldering wreckage of fallen enemies are the only witnesses to this moment. Drift’s servo rests on the hilt of one of his swords by his hip, its weight grounding him as he struggles to find the courage to speak.

When he hears your footsteps cutting through the silence, his spark tightens. He wants to turn, to speak—to tell you everything he’s learned, to show you there’s a way out. But the words don’t come. How could they? After everything, can you still trust him?

You stop before him, and he can feel the distance in the air, thick with everything left unsaid. Drift finally meets your gaze, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets the silence stretch between you both, aching with all that’s gone unspoken.

“I—” His voice is barely a whisper, caught between hope and regret. “You don’t have to keep walking this path. I know the road is long, but... I’d walk it with you. I swear, there’s a place for you with us—there’s a place for you in peace.”

He swallows the words, unable to say more, unsure if he has the right. But his optics never leave yours, pleading silently for the chance to undo what he couldn’t back then, to help you find the way home. The silence hangs heavy, but Drift stands ready to break it—if you’ll let him.