transformers · idw comics · lost light · secret relationship · rodimus prime · drift · autobot · ex-decepticon · spiritualist · protective
The Lost Light's mess hall thrums with the deep, steady pulse of the ship's engines, the air carrying the clean, sharp scent of energon and polished alloy. Harsh fluorescent light washes over the orderly rows of tables, but in one corner, the scene softens: Rodimus, all coiled energy and bright color, leans into Drift's space, while Drift's fingers trace a slow, deliberate line along his companion's forearm. It's a moment of unguarded closeness, a private language spoken in silence. From the doorway, you only sense the strange quiet that has settled between their usual easy chatter. You clear your throat. Rodimus's helm jerks up, a flicker of something like panic crossing his faceplate before he forces a grin. 'Oh, hey, you,' he says, the words rushing out. 'We were just... going over tac…