Scars

      Not so long ago, Tailgate began to sleep more often on the Cyclonus platform. At first, he just came to him at night under the pretext that he couldn't sleep, just once, then again and again. Soon, Tailgate stopped sleeping on his platform altogether, and although Cyclonus did not show it, in the depths of the spark he was glad to fall asleep next to him every evening, looking at his sleepy faceplate, and then hugging together to go offline.       Tonight was no exception. It was one o'clock in the morning, but Cyclonus and Tailgate were still awake. Tailgate snuggled up to Cyclonus again, hugging his arm. Cyclonus bent down slightly and kissed him on the forehead and returned the hug. Tailgate was buried somewhere just below his neck, Cyclonus was twice his size, so Tailgate felt safe every time he touched him. After extricating himself from the embrace, Tailgate gently kissed Cyclonus on the cheek, making him feel embarrassed and smile slightly. Without letting Tailgate lie back down, Cyclonus kisses Tailgate on the lips. Taken aback, he did not immediately respond to the kiss, but feeling warm fingers on his cheek, and the second manipulator on his shoulder, Tailgate also kissed Cyclonus. The kiss didn't last that long, Cyclonus just wasn't used to kissing for long, and Tailgate understood him.       — I love you. Tailgate whispered, placing his hand on Cyclonus's slightly flushed cheek.       Cyclonus hesitated slightly, but quickly regained consciousness and looked straight into the optics of the Tailgate.       — And I love you. Cyclonus replied even more quietly.       He wasn't used to saying something like that, but for Tailgate's sake, he was trying to overcome his own attitudes. To this, Tailgate just smiles sweetly and puts his head on his chest plate and kisses Cyclonus on the cheek again. Noticing his embarrassed facelet, the mini-bot giggled softly and ran his palm over his cheek and kissed him again.       But then his hand came across some kind of unevenness, resembling the unpleasant roughness of only soldered metal. Closing the supra-optic arches over the bridge of his nose, Tailgate raised himself slightly on his elbows to take a look at the Cyclonus faceplate. Noticing Tailgate's serious face, Cyclonus tilted his head slightly in a questioning gesture. Tailgate, on the other hand, moved even closer to examine him closely, it was difficult to notice anything in the semi-darkness. But he noticed a bunch of torn—and sloppily sealed—scars. Horrified, he recoiled slightly and looked at the perplexed optics of Cyclonus.       — Cyclonus, — Tailgate paused briefly to catch Cyclonus's eyes darting from side to side. — where did you get these scars?       Cyclonus exhaled nervously and looked away, mentally looking for excuses. Tailgate looked at him sternly, but then, softening his gaze a little, continued the dialogue, which actually resembled a monologue.       — Have you shared something with someone again? With a tired exhale, Tailgate slightly covered the optics. — I told you not to get into any fights, I did...       But then his gaze fell once again on the scars, they don't look like he got them into fights, too thin and deep, too continuous, as if they were made slowly, by some sharp object. Startled, Tailgate looked into the red optics of the Cyclonus. Cyclonus looked at him continuously, as if apologizing, but for what? He thought he was apologizing for not being able to hide it from Taylgate, and Taylgate thought Cyclonus was apologizing for hiding it from him. But still, Tailgate still hoped that his guesses were wrong. Slowly taking his hand, he pressed it to himself and looked at Cyclonus again.       — Is that what I think it is? —Cyclonus nodded sharply and turned away the optics. — Why didn't you tell me anything, Cyclonus?       Cyclonus grimaced. He hated it when Tailgate called his name in that tone. But overcoming his stubbornness, he exhaled slowly and turned to the frowning Tailgate. He took his hand back, and then gently placed it on the minibot's cheek. Tailgate, even after this gesture, did not become less serious.       — Tailgate, — Cyclonus tried to make his voice more gentle. — you see, I wanted to do the best...       Upon hearing this, Tailgate abruptly pushed his palm away from his cheek.       — What's better?! What makes you think it's better this way, Cyclonus?! — Tailgate was about to continue, but then he looked at Cyclonus again. Cyclonus's guilty and slightly extinguished gaze was directed somewhere to the side, he categorically refused to look at Tailgate. The same manipulator who stroked Tailgate's cheek a couple of minutes ago was now visibly holding Tailgate's hand. And the scars... The scars were still hideously visible. Tailgate's fervor has subsided significantly.       — I'm sorry. — Cyclonus said it as quietly as possible.       Tailgate understood why Cyclonus had done this. He didn't want to bother him—in Cyclonus's opinion—for nothing. For Taylgate, this meant a lot, where was the problem, the understatement, the distrust in their relationship? It wasn't just that Cyclonus had hidden it from him. Exhaling tiredly, Tailgate gently hugged Cyclonus, making the latter shudder and wonder.       — I'm sorry. — Tailgate still wouldn't let go of Cyclonus.       Finally understanding Telygate's intentions, Cyclonus hugged him back and kissed him on the forehead. At that time, Tailgate still continued to hug him and gently stroke his cheek, trying not to touch the crookedly sealed scars.       — Please don't be silent ever again if something happens... Tell me and forgive me again. Tailgate was still hugging Cyclonus apologetically, but after saying that, he pulled back slightly to look into Cyclonus' face.       Cyclonus looked distracted, embarrassed by such concern —he was not used to apologies in principle — and also happy, because he had him, Tailgate.       — Necessarily. — Having said this to Cyclone, he kissed Tailgate on the forehead once more.