Chapter Text
No no no no no no no!
What have I done?
Eclipse gripped the sides of his head, fingertips digging painfully into his faceplate as he snarled and turned on his heel, charging toward the end of the room before whirling around and darting back. His footsteps clunked loudly against the wooden floor of his room, the glowing star shapes on the walls blurring together in his vision as he paced frantically, artificial breaths coming out quick and shallow. He could barely hear the stuttering voice of the computer still trying to run a dimensional diagnostic over the rushing in his auditory sensors.
Lunar.
He had lost his temper at Lunar.
He’d known that the computer was intentionally antagonistic to Lunar on a regular basis, but he had always shrugged it off and ignored it. After all, he’d said worse to Lunar before they were separated, and he was still friendly towards Eclipse, so why would the computer be any different?
Turns out he was wrong. Very wrong.
Earlier that day, the computer had decided to be even more of a jerk to Lunar than usual, for no particular reason. The poor bot just wanted to know where his brother was, and he had been insulted. Repeatedly.
Lunar had finally gotten fed up with the thing and had decided, in a fit of rare anger, to punch it, somehow critically damaging it with a single strike. It could be fixed, of course, but when Eclipse first found out, the computer’s self-repair system was the last thing on his mind.
He was angry. Perhaps rightfully so; there were better ways for Lunar to have dealt with the situation, of course, but what he did was entirely understandable. Nobody wants to be called an idiot and a waste of time.
But Eclipse did not think of that at the time. No, the only thing on his mind was how his stupid brother messed with his creation and that this was all his fault.
He was being a bit dramatic, sure, but… well, you tend to be extremely possessive of your property when during the first few years of your life, not even your own body belonged to you.
He completely blew up at Lunar. Screamed at him to get out. Very few words were exchanged, but emotions were high nonetheless. The last he saw of Lunar was his guilty, fearful expression as he backed away and practically dove into the tunnel, scrambling to get away from the raging bonfire that was his brother.
Then the freezing started.
It was like something in the back of his head crystalized and expanded, pressing against the rest of his brain like how you feel when you lay down on a tiny rock. It was cold, like an ice cube down your shirt, but far more intense.
It was uncomfortable. It was painful.
It was spreading.
Eclipse scratched at his head, growling and wincing in pain as he paced, desperately trying to fight the numbness beginning to crawl up his limbs. He was so cold, he was shivering. He didn’t even know animatronics could do that!
But the coldness didn’t bother him as much as the absence of something else did.
Lunar.
He wanted Lunar back.
He wanted to pull the little bot into a hug and apologise profusely. He wanted to have him close and safe again. He wanted to get down on his knees and beg for the forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve. Not after everything he’d done to Lunar.
What if Lunar had finally had enough? What if he decided to leave?
Eclipse choked as he slammed himself into the wall instead of turning again, clutching his head so tight he felt like it was about to crumble. He-he couldn’t leave! They were brothers! They were supposed to stay together! They had been designed to!
Eclipse tore at his rays with his numb, numb, numb fingers, little broken noises emitting from his voicebox like the cries of a dying bird. He couldn’t live without Lunar, his other half, the sun to his moon. He couldn’t live with the fact that he’d chased the first person who had ever loved him away, all for a stupid machine that meant nothing compared to his brother. He—he—he couldn’t anything.
A muffled scream escaped Eclipse’s lips as he tore himself away from the wall and crashed into the other one, stumbling as he lost feeling in his legs. He was losing feeling in everything, actually, as the coldness spread and spread and devoured his body; everything except for the awful, twisting ache in his chest.
Under normal circumstances, he probably would’ve been disturbed by what was happening to his body, but the needle-like sensation of frostbite felt like nothing compared to the howling snowstorm of emotions inside him. The only distress the coldness brought him was the realization that he certainly couldn’t chase after Lunar, not in this condition.
A sob thrust its way out of Eclipse as he slowly slid down the wall to the ground, unable to hold himself up anymore. His arms and hands were completely frozen now, his joints so cold that they locked up, stuck gripping his head painfully. None of his touch sensors worked anymore; he couldn’t feel anything, could not resist the ice spreading across his mind like a lake in winter. His head fell forward, lacking the strength to stay elevated.
This was him without Lunar; a limp, abandoned toy with nothing else to cling to.
“Eclipse?”
A tiny voice echoed in the back of his head. A pulse of surprise rippled through what was left of Eclipse’s functional systems. In his distress, he had forgotten about his headmate.
“S-sun.” His voicebox wheezed, staticy from sobbing.
“What’s happening to you?” Sun cried, shifting from within the mindscape. He sounded scared.
“I’m. . . sorry.” Eclipse forced out, his eyes drifting closed. He couldn’t help Sun now; it was too late to do anything about the freezing. By ignoring it, he had doomed Sun too.
How stupid could he be?
He heard the beginning of another question from Sun, before he was cut off with a tiny shriek as the ice froze over him too.
Now he really was alone.
One by one, Eclipse’s remaining systems shut down, gradually consumed by the ever-growing coldness. He didn’t even try to fight it; there was no point, not if Lunar wasn’t coming back.
Everything slowly became dark and cold and silent, an endless void with no warmth. As his cognitive functions winked out like stars, Eclipse’s auditory sensors picked up one last sound, quiet as a whisper.
It was the computer, stuttering out another broken phrase.
“L-Lifeline-ne react-activated.”
Then everything came rushing back.
. . .
Lunar quietly slipped through the Daycare doors, his slippers gliding noiselessly across the padded floors as he crept past the play structures with all the silent skill of a master hide-and-seek player. He stopped under the bridge, gripping the plastic mesh to his left with one hand as he listened carefully for any sounds coming from his and Eclipse’s shared rooms.
It had been—what, six hours?—since he had broken Eclipse’s computer, and he had decided to check if his brother was still agitated before he re-entered their room for the night.
He was… more than a little nervous. He hadn’t seen Eclipse that angry since…
Well, since they were separated. Back when they both hated each other’s guts, despite sharing said guts.
How had he, with his tiny little baby arms, managed to break Eclipse’s most prized possession? He had spent years on that thing! It was, quite literally, the most advanced piece of technology on earth, and he damaged it. By smacking it on the side.
Oh, he had really screwed up this time.
Lunar rubbed at his temples and groaned as another stab of guilt hit him. How was he going to make up for this? Surely an apology wouldn’t cut it; Eclipse preferred actions over words, and there was nothing Lunar could do to help the situation. He certainly couldn’t help fix the computer; he knew absolutely nothing about technology, despite being made of it.
Maybe a gift would help? But Eclipse had no need for trinkets or food, and everything that he wanted, he had already made himself. What could Lunar offer that could possibly be of value?
Lunar shook his head and glanced back up at the balcony, auditory sensors straining for the sound of angry huffing or crashing, if Eclipse had decided to take out his anger on the objects around him. It wouldn’t be the first time, honestly.
Hearing nothing, Lunar took a deep breath, partially relieved and partially fearful of the next step. He would have to enter the actual room and hope he didn’t end up landing right in front of a still angry Eclipse.
Steeling himself for the encounter ahead, Lunar turned on his heel to make his way back to the teleporter—
And shrieked when he was instantly met with a familiarly tall figure looming over him.
Lunar stumbled back and, losing his balance, landed flat on his butt, the air knocked out of him. Fans spinning at maximum speed, he tilted his head up until he met his brother’s eyes, flinching back at his intense gaze.
Eclipse stood over him, slightly hunched over with his head tilted to the side and rays quivering in their slots like tongues of flame. His hands hung limp at his sides, fingers twitching restlessly against each other with a metallic clicking sound. His vents wheezed noisily, as if clogged, while his jaw hung slightly open, eyes fixated on Lunar and noting every little movement or flinch in an almost predatorial way.
“Eclipse.” Gasped Lunar, clutching his chest. “Y-you startled me.”
How on earth did Eclipse sneak up behind him like that? He wasn’t particularly noisy while walking, but he wasn’t exactly quiet. He was a 300-pound hunk of metal, after all.
“Okay. Uhm.” Lunar shrank back slightly from Eclipse’s unreadable yet undeniably fervent expression, more than a little afraid of why his brother was looking at him like that. He was clearly feeling something very strongly, though Lunar wasn’t sure whether it was anger or something… else?
He also didn’t seem to want to break eye contact. Whenever Lunar flicked his optics to the side, unsettled by the prolonged connection, Eclipse would slowly sway over to where he was looking, blocking his view with his own faceplate.
Okay. This was a little disturbing.
“So about the computer—”
“Lunarrrrrrr.”
Eclipse’s voice gradually dissolved into a throaty rumble as the word slid off his tongue, his head slowly tilting to the other side. His hands clenched, fists balled up so tight that Lunar could hear the metal endoskeleton inside squealing in protest.
“I… thought you… left.”
Lunar swallowed nervously. “Well, yeah, I left the Daycare. Took a walk outside, thought about what happened. A-and I just wanna say I’m sorry about the computer.” He managed to force an apologetic smile, hoping that it would placate his brother, who was currently leaning even closer to him than before like a tree on the verge of toppling over.