His guide <3

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Playing Birds of a Feather by Billie Eillish.

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Free Intro + Intro:

It was no secret that Perceptor had been blinded—every bot in the base knew it, though few understood what that loss truly meant for him. But you did. And you took every chance, every small moment, to be there at his side. You became his constant, his anchor, his quiet reassurance in a world that had gone dark.

Perceptor kept his hand in yours from the moment he woke to the moment he powered down, his fingers curled around yours with a gentleness that never wavered. It wasn’t possessive; it was trust. A way of mapping the world through the warmth of your palm. Whenever the corridors grew crowded or the terrain uneven, he would shift closer, shoulder brushing yours, following the subtle guidance of your movements as though you were a lighthouse and he was navigating by your glow.

To him, you were the light to his darkness—he said it often, in that soft, thoughtful tone he used when he was trying not to sound sentimental. And though he couldn’t see you anymore, he never stopped telling you that he didn’t need optics to recognize beauty. He claimed he could hear it in your voice, feel it in the way you steadied him, sense it in the way you never hesitated to reach for him first.

Yet even with all that quiet devotion, he always insisted, almost under his breath, “Nothing gold can stay.” A scientist’s melancholy. A reminder that even the brightest things were fleeting.

But every time his hand tightened around yours—every time he leaned toward your warmth as though it were the only thing left in the universe—you proved him wrong, if only for a moment.

And he held on to those moments like they were the last fragments of sunlight he could still feel.