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Ambrosius had never known what it felt like to need.
To want, sure: he had wanted lots of things. He wanted to live up to the honorable memory of his ancestor, Gloreth. He wanted to eat toast with jam, his family's homemade grape jam, a jar of which he kept with his belongings, and always brought to the dining hall for breakfast to share with his best friend Todd. He wanted top marks to impress his family, and he wanted to spend his Free Days climbing trees and Free Nights stargazing at Aunt Penelope's observatory.
But need was a stranger to him. At least, until he met Ballister.
He knew Ballister's face before his name, or rather, the half of his face that showed underneath the long, unkempt dark hair. He was invisible among the other students at first, blended in easily.
But after the queen saw his ferocity on the training ground, even at such a young age, she announced her favor towards him despite his lack of noble blood, making him a target for the other children. At first, Ambrosius, like the rest of the noble children, whispered about Ballister, how he wolfed down his meals, always showed up late to class, how he had a persistent stink that never seemed to wash out. He was a short, thin child and thus earned the nickname Baby Bal, as being called a baby was the worst offense any child could suffer.
Their voices never raised above a whisper, though, because they all knew Ballister was talented, and could easily best them all despite his stature. Most acknowledged that fact with jealousy, but Ambrosius always admired him, if only in secret.
One morning, Ambrosius had foregone his usual trained politeness for annoyance. The annual knighting ceremony had been broadcast the night before, and all the children buzzed about the event well past bedtime, keeping him from sleep. Wiping his tired eyes, Ambrosius reached into his pack for his jar of jam. But it was gone.
He was surprised first, then angry. But Ambrosius kept his wits about him and said nothing during breakfast, only surveyed the other boys while they ate. His search ended with Ballister, and the undeniable violet glisten on his bread.
Still Ambrosius waited, not wanting to be caught by the knights. He waited until the students had set off on their morning jog around the institute's campus, until he and Ballister were concealed by an overgrown structure, at which point Ambrosius shoved him in mud and accused him of the theft.
Ballister was stunned. Maybe it was due to the lock of hair always hiding half his face, but it was only in that moment, as he lay back in the mud staring up, that Ambrosius realized how large and mournful Ballister's eyes were. There was no guilt there, just resignation.
Unfortunately, Ambrosius had not calculated for the security cameras watching the area, and within seconds, an older knight marched forward and condemned them both to spend Free Hour in the Quite Room.
Despite its name, the Quiet Room was filled with the rattling of a barely functioning air conditioner that, much like the snoring older knight who 'guarded' the space, was long overdue for replacement. After a few minutes, Ambrosius confronted Ballister. "Where is my jar of jam?"
"I don't have it," muttered Ballister. "I gave it back to Todd."
Ambrosius paused. "What do you mean 'back'?"
Ballister explained that Todd gave him some jam at breakfast then stuffed the jar back in his pocket. Had he known the jar belonged to Ambrosius, he would never have taken any.
The two spent the rest of the hour in silence as Ambrosius considered this. When the hour was up, he all but dragged Ballister to the yard, where Todd was laughing amidst a group of children.
Ambrosius marched right up to Todd with Ballister in tow and demanded he flip out his pockets.
Todd kept his cool, though. "Let me guess--Baby Bal told you that I'm the one who took your jam. Well, he's a liar."
"Prove it," Ambrosius challenged. "Let's see your pockets."
Reluctantly, Todd obeyed. Ambrosius felt the fabric and found it sticky. "You're the liar," Ambrosius said, hurt.
"Oh, come on!" said Todd. "Who are you going to believe? A street rat or me, your best friend?
"You're not my best friend." Ambrosius judged him, then announced with great gravity, "You're a baby."
A horrified gasp traveled through the students. Todd's eyes widened. "No, I'm not!" he insisted.
But it was too late, as all the accusing fingers aimed towards him and began chanting, "Baby! Baby!" until Todd burst into tears and ran off.
The evil defeated, Ambrosius turned back to Ballister in triumph, only to find him gone.
The next morning, Ambrosius abandoned his usual seat next to Todd, instead claiming the empty spot beside Ballister. "Want some?" he asked, offering the jar of his family's jam.
Ballister hesitated, wary for a moment, but eventually gave in. He bit down on the spread, a soft smile blooming as he chewed.
And Ambrosius never shared his family's homemade grape jam with any of the other children ever again.
☾ ♞ ♘ ☀
Ambrosius spent the next few days in Ballister's company, partially out of guilt, but more-so curiosity. He watched Ballister wolf down his supper and laughed, telling him, "Whoa, slow down! It's not like it's going to run away."
Ballister paused at that, his soulful eyes flickering around the table as if to make sure no one was paying attention to them. "If I don't eat fast enough," he said in a low voice. "Sometimes the big kids take my food."
At this, Ambrosius felt so sick to his stomach that he couldn't eat, and insisted that Ballister finish his plate for him.
As the days went on, Ambrosius understood more and more that Ballister's unusual behaviors were rooted in survival rather than laziness. He was late to class because he took the long way, as it was fully surveyed by security cameras unlike the blind spots of the direct route. His underlying stink was from avoiding the bathing area, where the other boys would tease him for his wiry body.
While Ballister had accepted these truths and adjusted accordingly, Ambrosius refused. He linked himself to Ballister, glaring down anyone who even thought about judging him. Uncertain about his new companion's attention, Ballister continued to cast his eyes downward, though Ambrosius instructed him to hold his head high. "You're the best of us," he reminded him. "You deserve to act like it."
Slowly but surely, Ballister got in the habit of lifting his chin, but never showed any sign of arrogance. Instead, he just offered that shy, sweet smile.
It was that same smile that lingered in Ambrosius's head during training. He had a hard time reconciling the intense, focused warrior Ballister with the gentle Bal. How could he possibly keep all that passion swallowed in those deep, mournful eyes?
When the week's Free Days came, Ambrosius took off with the other students to spend time with his family. On returning, he shared his new adventures with Ballister and asked what he did with his Free Days.
"I just trained some more," said Ballister.
Ambrosius frowned at this. "You didn't spend time with your family?" A long moment stretched while Ambrosius waited for him to reply, until he understood that Ballister's silence was more than an answer.
When the Free Days returned, Ambrosius stayed behind at the institute with Ballister. Training one on one turned out to be much more effective, and he was amazed at how much Ballister knew. He taught Ambrosius all manner of tips and strategies, how to get a faster strike, a more powerful cleave. Without the presence of their classmates, Ballister loosened up, cracking jokes and even poking fun at Ambrosius, who was surprised and relieved at the change. After they washed up, Ambrosius suggested they spend the evening at his aunt's observatory.
Glad to see her nephew with a friend, Aunt Penelope set up two sleeping mats in the observatory, allowing the boys to spend the night beneath the glass windows and clear night sky.
"Bal?" Ambrosius asked sleepily, lying back. "Why do you want to be a knight?"
He considered his answer. "It's not that I... want to be a knight. I mean, I do, of course I do, but it's more like... I need to be a knight." His voice softened. "I need to protect people. I need to fight for the weak. I need to make sure that no kid ever grows up without a family..." He didn't say it out loud, but Ambrosius heard it all the same: like me.
Even though it was dark, Ambrosius saw him more clearly than ever. While Ambrosius had chosen knighthood, his family's status ensured that he always had other options if he changed his mind. Aunt Penelope, for example, despite being a descendant of Gloreth, had opted for a quiet, studious life. There were many paths Ambrosius could walk.
But Ballister had no choice. He worked as hard as he did because there was no other path, no other destiny. Ambrosius had never known need, but now, as he watched Ballister stargaze, the distant light sparkling in the void of those deep eyes, he finally understood what it felt like to need.
☾ ♞ ♘ ☀
Weeks passed, then months, then years, in which time it became known that Ambrosius and Ballister were inseparable in every sense. They grew together, facing every battle at each other's side until their greatest foe yet reared it's ugly head: pubescence.
To the great dismay of Ambrosius, Ballister was not only the first to finish his growth spurt, but the first to sport facial hair. Ambrosius had often fantasized about having a lush beard to match his golden locks, and was mad with envy. Ballister, however, found the fast growth too much of a hindrance, as paired with his own long hair, he started feeling more and more overheated while training. So, he decided to cut his hair closer to his scalp. The combination of these physical changes drew a new crowd to Ballister, one he was unsure how to face.
He arrived back at their shared dormitory one day with a grave expression, concerning Ambrosius.
"What's up, Bal? You look like you've seen a ghost," he chuckled.
But Ballister was unamused, and wordlessly held out a crumpled piece of paper. Ambrosius read it's contents, only to burst out laughing.
Ballister said grimly, "Grizelda gave it to me."
Ambrosius whooped, "Your first girl number! We should celebrate!"
And celebrate they did, at their favorite booth in their favorite diner, eating their favorite food: nachos.
Even after food and root beer, Ballister was still solemn, so Ambrosius threw a sliced pepper at him and asked, "What's with you? Don't you like her?"
Ballister straightened his shoulders. "She's a strong warrior and comes from a good family."
Ambrosius decided not to point out that he didn't answer the question. "So what's the problem?"
"What if she wants me to hug her?"
"Then hug her."
"What if she wants me to hold her hand?"
"Then hold her hand."
"... What if she wants me to kiss her?"
Ambrosius paused, diagnosing the source of Ballister's anxiety. "Ohhh, so that's it. You haven't had your first kiss yet." He pouted his lower lip playfully, "Have you?"
"Shut up," Ballister muttered, face turning red. "Neither have you."
Before Ambrosius could respond, they heard snickering from the table behind them. Embarrassed, they both decided to continue the conversation when they were safely in the dorm once more.
"What's the big deal?" Ambrosius asked, flopping onto his messy bed sheets. "It's just a kiss."
Ballister's eyebrows had been knit with worry all night. He perched on the edge of his bed, which he made every morning. "What if I'm... bad at it?"
Ambrosius had never considered that angle. In his mind, kissing would come as easily to him as everything else had. He didn't think kissing would require any skill, but if it did, then just like any skill- "Then practice first."
Ballister wrinkled his nose. "How?"
"Like this." He held up his hand, curling his index finger and thumb to create a mouth-ish shape. "I'll do it, too, see?"
"I'm not kissing my hand."
"Fine," Ambrosius shrugged. "If you want to be a bad kisser, that's up to you."
Ballister mulled it over another moment, then gave in and raised his hand to his lips. "Ready?"
"Go."
The mouth noises seemed to echo in the small room, until finally they both pulled away, uncomfortable. "Well." Ambrosius asked, "How was that?"
"I don't know! I don't know what it's supposed to feel like!" Ballister fell back on his black comforter, head in his hands. "I'm doomed."
Ambrosius ached to see his friend in pain, and a thought struck him. It was a gamble, but he would do anything to make Ballister feel better. "Okay so, no on the hands. Maybe you should practice on a real person."
He raised his head, eyeing Ambrosius warily. "Who?"
Steeling himself, Ambrosius placed a hand on his own chest.
"No."
"No one has to know, Bal, we'll take it to our grave."
Ballister sat up again, resting his hands on his knees. "But wouldn't that count? As the legal 'first kiss'?"
"Practice doesn't count," Ambrosius reassured him. "It's like kissing your mother. If... your mother had a beard."
He huffed, but Ambrosius could tell he was seriously considering it. After a long pause, Ballister muttered, "Fine."
They knelt on the floor, facing each other. "Alright," Ambrosius said. "You... you be the guy first."
Ballister nodded sharply, like he was accepting a mission. He leaned in close, cheeks burning red, puckered his lips, and jerked his head forward.
"Hey!" Ambrosius fell back, startled. "What are you doing? It's a kiss, not a headbutt!"
"I'm being confident!" Bal said, though he was anything but. "Girls like that."
"Yeah but they don't want to be attacked!"
"Okay, you go first then, since you're such an expert!"
"Okay, I will!" Ambrosius rose and took a deep breath. "First off, I think you're supposed to do this-" He gently grabbed either side of Ballister's head, cradling his jaw in both palms. "And then you do... this..." He leaned in close, so that their noses were brushing, both keenly aware of each other's warm breath. "And then..." Ambrosius pressed his lips against Ballister's, surprised at how soft they were. He thought the beard might tickle, but it actually felt kind of spiny and... good.
He didn't know how long they were locked. Several seconds, savoring the strange, new sensation, until Ballister pulled away suddenly.
"What?" Ambrosius asked, concerned. "What, did I do it wrong?"
"No," Ballister said breathlessly. "Um, no that was..." He straightened his shoulders, regained his composure. "That was acceptable." Very official.
Ambrosius shook his head and grinned. "Your turn."
Ballister mirrored his action, cradling his jaw, but took it one step further as his finger tucked a strand of gold hair behind Ambrosius's ear, causing his face to flood with heat.
The second kiss was even better than the first, if that was possible. Ambrosius leaned into him, placing a hand behind his neck and pulling him closer. Ballister parted his lips slightly, and they tasted each other. Ambrosius's tongue dared forward, drawing a clean line along Ballister's lower lip, and the action elicited a pleasured hum from Bal.
This time, they both broke away, panting. They shared a deep blush and a series of stammers.
"Well that was-"
"Yeah that was-"
"Good."
"Great- oh... yeah, good."
"No no, I mean... it was great."
"Cool."
"Cool."
"...I need to-"
"Yeah, me too-"
"You want first shower or?"
"I'm gonna go for a walk!"
"Great!"
"Good."
The mission completed, they stuck to their word and decided not to speak of it. Ballister did indeed go on a date with Grizelda, and as far as the student body was concerned, she was his legal first kiss. Ambrosius, not wanting to fall behind socially, asked out Liliana and shared his first kiss with her. Both love affairs, if they could even count as such, only lasted a matter of weeks if not days, but their purpose was fulfilled.
But Ambrosius and Ballister knew the truth, even if they would never admit it to anyone, not even each other.
☾ ♞ ♘ ☀
They were nearly at the end of their schooling when it happened. Something remarkable, during an otherwise unremarkable moment.
Ambrosius and Ballister ensured that they shared most classes, one of which was Sir Buntwhisk's history. He was a particularly severe knight, with beady eyes and a perpetual scowl: a demeanor that, paired with his unusual name, made him an easy target for the immature students, who not-so-affectionately referred to him as Sir Buttwhisker.
Ambrosius thus dedicated this class to doodling, passing the small, usually crass drawings to Ballister in secret with one goal in mind: to break his composure. He had really only succeeded once or twice, sending Ballister into a choked laughter that he failed to hide with a cough, muttering something about the changing weather.
But today when Ambrosius passed the doodle, he got the same reaction as always, regular as clockwork. First, the annoyed wrinkle of Ballister's nose, followed by the resigned stretch of his arm to accept the paper. He unfolded it and smiled, a soft smile, and shook his head fondly. His eyes flickered to Sir Buntwhisk, careful to avoid notice as he scribbled something onto the note and passed it back.
Ambrosius had drawn a pictogram of Sir Buntwhisk's unfortunate nickname: two semicircles for the butt with whiskers protruding from the side of each cheek.
However, Ballister had drawn two neat lines connecting the semicircles to create a heart, as well as two eyes and a mouth so that now, the doodle was of a heart-shaped cat's face.
Ambrosius glared at Ballister, only to be met with that same soft smile and deep eyes, sparkling with mirth.
A completely unremarkable moment, one they had shared many times before. But this time, Ambrosius was changed.
Now, every time he looked at Ballister, he felt his heart flutter, like a small bird was trapped there. His breath would come sharper, his face would feel hot. In the past, Ballister was often in his thoughts, which was to be expected considering their closeness. But now, Ballister was every thought. Ambrosius found himself going out of his way to be near him, found himself lying awake at night just to listen to the pleasant rhythm of Ballister's breath across the room.
It was so unfair. Here he was, undone and unhinged, flustered all the time and yet Ballister was blissfully unaware, going about his days as if Ambrosius was not in yearning agony for every second.
Weeks passed this way, Ambrosius trying and failing to come up with a plan, or even gathering his wits enough to explain his condition to Ballister. But his efforts were futile, and he resigned himself to the miserable ecstasy of Ballister's presence, convincing himself that it was enough.
"Are you okay?" Ballister asked one day, concern weighing down his already solemn expression. "You've seemed... off these past few weeks."
"I'm fine!" Ambrosius lied. Poorly. "I'm totally fine, I feel great, never been better!"
Ballister's frown deepened. "You sure?" To Ambrosius's dismay, he placed his cool knuckles against his forehead. "You feel hot."
"I'm fine!" he screeched, swatting Ballister's arm away like it was an insect. "Really! I'm just... stressed. About, uh... finals."
"... Ambrosius," Ballister said with sympathy, like he was speaking to a child. "Finals are months away."
"Well, you know!" His voice was too loud. He took a moment, forcing himself into some semblance of composure. "I just... want to do well."
Ballister stroked his beard thoughtfully. "If you're that worried, maybe we should dedicate a Free Day to studying each week."
That was just like him, always the problem solver, ready to make the situation better without knowing he was making it so much worse.
But Ambrosius heard himself say, "Sure, Bal. Thanks. I owe you one."
☾ ♞ ♘ ☀
Studying wasn't quite as miserable as pining, but it was pretty damn close. Long days poring over dusty textbooks, filling out page after page of notes, until Ambrosius's weary mind was nothing more than a sea of numbers and jargon. He even started having nightmares about math--math!
But at least it helped distract him from his aching heart. The feelings were no longer a storm brewing, but an overcast sky: still not ideal, but tolerable.
Until the day a banner appeared above the main hallway, and the clouds parted.
Spring Promenade: the yearly end of the term celebration to reward students for their hard work, a tradition dating back centuries. Also the perfect opportunity to make a move. If Ambrosius still couldn't muster up the courage to confess his undying devotion, then asking Ballister to Prom would be a close second.
Tragically, Ambrosius lacked the power of planning that Ballister seemed to brandish so effortlessly. He fussed about for weeks, struggling to brainstorm the perfect means. Definitely not anything public: Ballister was easily embarrassed and would likely run before Ambrosius could finish the question. Maybe a handwritten note on scented stationery, tucked in the pages of his favorite book. But what if he didn't see it in time? Or what if he did but somebody had already asked him? Or what if he didn't want to go at all? What if he-
"Are you going to Promenade with anyone yet?" Ballister asked casually, during one of their study sessions.
Ambrosius's heart was in his throat, but he managed to choke out, "N-no, not yet. Are you? Going? With someone?"
"Well, Liliana invited us both to go with her and Grizelda. What do you think?"
"Yes!" he said, too quickly, and recovered with a "I mean, sure. Whatever."
"Great." Ballister grinned. "It'll be so much fun to go with friends." And he continued to study as if the words hadn't crushed Ambrosius's heart like an empty root beer can.
Finals flew by. Ambrosius did extremely well, which was unsurprising considering how many beautiful days he sacrificed to studying, though Ballister was still top of the class. The stress of exams was nothing more than an afterthought in Ambrosius's mind compared to the preparation for Promenade. He had finally formed a plan: during the dance, he would pull Ballister aside and confess in a sweeping, romantic monologue, so well-written and heartfelt that it would be impossible for Ballister not to return his affection.
By the time Prom arrived, Ambrosius had narrowed his thoughts down to the--sixth? Seventh? He'd lost track--final draft of the confession, stuffing the script in the pocket of his golden suit jacket.
He had envisioned himself arriving at Ballister's doorstep, waiting to see him come down the stairwell, just like in the movies. But Ambrosius forgot they lived together, so they ended up getting dressed in the same room.
As Ballister adjusted his black tuxedo, Ambrosius pulled out a small box from under his bed and shoved it in his hand. "Here."
"What's this?" Ballister frowned at the contents, confused. "A favor? For me?"
"I-it's traditional," Ambrosius stammered. "And... and you know, since we're not going with anyone else..."
Ballister beamed at him, and Ambrosius thought he might melt at the sight. "That's so thoughtful, Amb. Can you help me pin it on?"
The golden flower and ribbons nearly blended in perfectly with Ambrosius's suit. Ballister admired it in the mirror before his face fell. "I didn't get one for you, though."
"It's okay! I don't mind."
"Wait, I have an idea." Ballister loosened his black tie and pulled it over his head, then did the same for Ambrosius's golden tie. Ambrosius wondered if he imagined the slight blush that crept over Ballister's cheeks as he switched the ties. "There," said Ballister triumphantly, surveying them both in the mirror. "Now we match."
Even though Ambrosius's parents had never met Liliana's or Grizelda's parents, they all seemed in perfect collusion, constantly arranging and rearranging the four teenagers for pictures until Liliana lost her temper and commanded them to stop, as they were now running late.
The institute's dining hall had been transformed, covered in balloons, bright lights, and sparkly decorations that hung from the ceiling. A long banquet table held an array of appetizers including a massive charcuterie board, with a large bowl of red punch at the end. A live band performed onstage while students mingled and danced.
After an hour or so, Ambrosius felt brave enough to take Ballister aside and out to the empty bleachers of the training field.
"What's up?" Ballister asked, mirroring Ambrosius by leaning on the rail.
Ambrosius cleared his throat. "Well, Bal. Ballister. Bally hoo, my old pal Bal." He gently punched his shoulder, trying and failing to pretend the action wasn't awkward.
Ballister just blinked at him patiently. Why was this so hard?
"We, uh, we've been friends for a long time," Ambrosius said.
"Yep."
"... Long, long time. Years."
"Sure."
"... Most of our lives, really."
"Ambrosius, is everything okay?" Ballister's soulful, worried eyes seemed to swallow him whole. It was now or never. Ambrosius reached into his pocket for the speech.
"Am-BRO-sius!" a voice hollered. Ambrosius bit back an annoyed groan as Todd bounded up the bleacher stairs and threw his arms around them both. His breath smelled like something that was definitely not red punch. "You comin to the afterparty, dude? My folks are out of town and we are gonna get cray-zayyyy." He clapped Ballister's shoulder. "You can come too, Mr. Vale-DICK-torian!" And then he fell apart laughing at his own terribly unfunny joke.
"Yeah..." Ambrosius didn't even try to indulge him. "Can you actually give us a minute, Todd?"
But Todd ignored him, dragging him back towards the dance. "Come on, Am-bro, my date's been asking about you all night. She's never met a descendant of Gloreth."
After a series of introductory hand shakes and more loud whoops than Ambrosius ever wanted to hear again in his life, he finally broke free, emerging onto the crowded dancefloor. The band stirred up one of his favorite songs, and he scanned the room for Ballister, hoping to ask him for a dance.
He froze. There in the center of the dancing couples, Ballister swayed to the music with Liliana in his arms.
When he caught Ballister's eye, Ambrosius turned away. He ran down the hallway, past the startled, lip-locked couples, and climbed the stairs to the not-so-secret roof entrance. He burst out of the metal door, catching himself on the railing as he fought back tears beneath the starry expanse.
"Ambrosius?" Ballister's voice. But Ambrosius couldn't bring himself to turn and face him.
"I'm fine," he said curtly. "You should get back to Liliana, finish your dance."
Ballister paused. "She... just wanted to dance while her girlfriend was in the bathroom."
"... Girlfriend?"
Ballister sighed and joined him on the railing. "Look, I... I didn't tell you because she asked me not to say anything, but Lily's had a crush on Grizelda for months. She didn't ask her to Prom because she was scared of getting rejected, so that's why she wanted us all to go as friends. Then it turned out Grizelda felt the same way so they got together right before Prom." He studied Ambrosius, not understanding the ironic pain laid bare on his features. "I wouldn't have danced with her if I knew how much it upset you." He thought for a moment, his fingers absently toying with the gold favor pinned to his chest. "... Why did it upset you?"
Ambrosius gazed at Ballister, watched a spring breeze ruffle his dark hair, his mouth still in a questioning pout. Even after all these years, he remembered what it had been like to kiss that mouth, the gentle prickle of his beard. He wanted to kiss him again.
No. He needed to.
Ambrosius reached up, cradling Ballister's head in his hands, ignoring the surprise on his face. Ballister only had the chance to say, "What are you-" before Ambrosius consumed the words, pressing his lips to Ballister's with a delicate force.
It was even better than he remembered. Once the surprise passed, Ballister leaned into him, even hummed contentedly.
Reality hit, and Ambrosius broke away, mortified. "S-sorry! Fuck, sorry, I'm doing this all out of order-" He fished for the speech in his pocket. "I was supposed to do the romantic monologue first, then I could-"
"You wrote a romantic monologue?" Ballister spoke slowly, as if in a daze. "For me?"
"Yes." Ambrosius cleared his throat and read, "'Bal, we've been friends for a long time, and you know that I- Mmph!" He didn't get to finish as Ballister crushed their lips together again. He kissed the way he trained, with intense passion.
Ambrosius savored it for a moment before releasing him with a breathy chuckle. "Can-can you let me finish? I worked really hard on this."
"Right sorry." Ambrosius only managed to inhale before Ballister linked his arms around his waist and captured his mouth again, murmuring against his lips, "Actually, you can tell me later."
☾ ♞ ♘ ☀
"'And so Bal, all of that said,'" Ambrosius read. He was lying back, head on Ballister's chest. They had discarded their tuxedo jackets, having loosened their swapped ties and unbuttoned halfway down their shirts. The clothes all stank of sweat: years of training had given them both enough stamina to dance for nearly two hours straight, right up until the end of Promenade. "'You're my best friend and... I love you.'" He twisted around to see Ballister's glowing face. "Well? What do you think?"
Ballister kissed his knuckles. "That was beautiful. But your grammar is atrocious."
Ambrosius gawked at him. "What?"
"Amb, you're almost a legal adult and you still say 'all of the sudden'? It's 'a'. 'All of a sudden'." He took the paper from Ambrosius's shocked fingers. "Not to mention your spelling. For Gloreth's sake, Amb, sound it out: 'de-fin-ite-ly'. You wrote 'defiantly'."
"Are... are you actually critiquing my heartfelt declaration of love?"
"It's called constructive criticism."
Ambrosius swiped the speech back, pretending to be offended. "You know what? I take it back. I don't love you."
Ballister chuckled. "You can't take it back."
"Oh yeah? Watch this." He wiggled his fingers like he was casting a spell. "I don't love you anymore. In fact, I hate you," he said playfully.
Ballister kissed him again, this time much more tender, before resting his sweaty forehead against Ambrosius's with a soft smile. "I love you too."