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Newly twelve years old, Ambrosius stood with his head down, trying not to make eye-contact with the woman in front of him. He could tell she was angry with him, even though her clipped tone betrayed nothing.
“Let me ask you one question, Ambrosius. Does your performance seem in any way worthy of Gloreth’s legacy?” The Director asked. Ambrosius shook his head, but it must not have been enough. “Well?”
“No, ma’am.” He said clearly, despite his want to mumble and run away.
“You should know better than to let yourself slip like this.” She chastised. “The blood of Gloreth runs through your veins, and you must do everything in your power to seize the opportunities that it provides you.”
“Yes, ma’am. I know, ma’am.”
“Your work over the past few weeks has been disappointing, to say the least.” She said, and Ambrosius tried not to flinch. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint the Director. “I expect you to remedy this.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ll be working to perfect the most recent move set for the next few days.” She commanded. “You won’t rest until it’s perfect.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, his heart settling in his stomach at the thought of another set of sleepless nights. Maybe, if he could just get this done within the night, he wouldn’t have to stay up for any longer than that. Maybe he could get it right sooner than usual. “I won’t let you down.”
Ambrosius was awake for the next two days straight, only to pass out in the locker room on a five minute break and wake up to the feeling of panic flooding his system. He’d sprung into action immediately, his back aching from falling asleep on one of the benches, and pushed himself through a warm-up before he was back to practicing. It took another night to finally perfect the move set. He tried to make the Director’s praise feel worth the exhaustion, but he just couldn’t get himself to.
When he left her office, he silently thought that he might hate her. The ensuing guilt of even considering that was enough to send him reeling. He kept himself awake an additional three hours to make up for it. The suffering was deserved. It was necessary.
—
Sixteen years old, Ambrosius was sure his veins were running thicker with coffee than actual blood at this point. He’d been asked to avoid sleep until he knew all of the material for his science class front and back after failing a recent test and, not one to disappoint, stayed up for three days.
Every time he looked in the mirror, hell stared back at him. Concealer did a lot of heavy lifting, but it couldn’t fix everything. He still looked exhausted. He wasn’t sure, at this point, if he’d ever look anything but.
His stomach gnawed at him, the empty pit born of some crude mix of hunger and sleep deprivation. Even after he ate, he felt distinctly empty. He just wanted to go to bed, but he wasn’t perfect yet, so he couldn’t. He was sure just one more night would be enough to get it all down.
“Ambrosius?” Ballister asked, nudging his shoulder. “Are you okay? You look tired?”
“Hm? Oh, I’m fine, Bal.” He smiled. He was sure it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just didn’t sleep last—sleep well last night.”
Thankfully, Ballister didn’t seem to pay much mind to the slip-up. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Eh, I’ll be fine.” Ambrosius shrugged. “Don’t worry about me too much.”
“I’ll stop worrying when you stop being so easy to worry about.” He teased and Ambrosius rolled his eyes.
“Oh come on!” He laughed. “I’m not that bad.”
“You come to breakfast every morning looking like death itself.”
“Everyone does.” He argued. “It’s called ‘not wanting to wake up at five in the morning.’”
“I don’t mind it.” Ballister said, and Ambrosius snorted.
“Sure thing, teacher’s pet.” Ballister didn’t even argue, raising his hands in surrender.
“Call me what you want.” Ballister said. “At least I’ve never fallen asleep in class.”
Ambrosius almost shushed him, vaguely paranoid that the Director would find out and get upset with him for falling asleep. His head pounded when he shook it. “Well some of us weren’t built with battery packs.”
“Are you calling me a robot?” Ballister smirked.
“I’m definitely not calling you a human.” He said, nose turned up to disguise his grin. “I mean, what kind of person enjoys waking up at the break of dawn? You can’t possibly be flesh and blood.”
“I never said I enjoyed it.” Ballister protested. “Only that I don’t mind it.”
“You can’t fool me, android.” Ambrosius said, pointing at him accusingly. “Just promise you’ll spare me during the robot uprising.”
“If I have to.” Ballister said, rolling his eyes fondly.
“If you have to?” Ambrosius gasped. “So you admit you planned to murder me.”
“Hey, it’s not personal. I plan to murder all humans.” He said, shrugging. “Kind of what defines the robot uprising.”
“I’m just shocked I don’t get any best friend privileges.”
“The best friend privilege is that I make it quick and painless.”
Ambrosius rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile. “How charming.”
Ballister laughed, which eventually broke Ambrosius too, and the two sat there giggling for a while. Like normal kids, with no cares in the world. Unfortunately, reality had to rush back eventually.
Ambrosius glanced at the clock just in time to see it hit 9pm. He sighed. “I’d better go, got a lot of studying to catch up on.”
“Sometimes it feels like all you do is study.” Ballister said as he got up.
“Says the guy who reads textbooks for fun.” Ambrosius said, poking him gently in the ribs.
Ballister groaned. “Okay, that is just blatantly untrue.”
“Is it?” Ambrosius teased. “I mean, how else would you know so much?”
“Ever thought maybe I just pay attention?” He said, and Ambrosius knew it was a joke, so he tried not to let it get to him, but it stung a little. He was paying attention. He tried so, so hard to pay attention and absorb as much information as he could. It wasn’t his fault his brain wouldn’t cooperate. But maybe Ballister had a point. Maybe if he wasn’t so stupid, he wouldn’t have to stay up for days on end. As far as he knew, none of the other knights had to. It was his fault for not living up to expectations. It was his fault for not understanding everything.
Ambrosius got a hundred percent on the next test, but missed the extra credit question. Ballister got a hundred and five. Ambrosius was proud of both Ballister and himself, but the Director said it was an embarrassment for a descendant of Gloreth to be outperformed like that. Ambrosius got used to late nights all over again.
Things would be a lot easier if Ambrosius actually liked the taste of coffee.
—
“Ambrosius, you’ll be a knight in less than a year now.” The Director said. “At this point, failure is not an option.”
“I know, Director.” He said. “I assure you, this was merely a one-time mistake. It won’t happen again.”
“It would be easier to believe you if success were more of a constant.” She drawled. “However, you’re ranked second in your class. So it seems that’s not the case.”
“Ballister is a hard worker.” He said, the need to defend his boyfriend welling up in him. He didn’t even know why he felt like he had to. The Director wanted the best for all of them, right? “He earned first place.”
“A harder worker than you?” She asked.
“Almost definitely.” He said, unwavering.
She closed her eyes momentarily. A very minor tell that she was upset with something Ambrosius had said or done. He was instantly tense. “Ambrosius, you’re well aware that should not be possible.”
Ambrosius swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, Director.”
“As a descendant of Gloreth, you are expected to be on top of the heap at all times. Failing this encourages distrust in the public. How are they supposed to believe you can protect them, if you cannot even be the best in your class?” She said, not seeking an answer. “You know what I ask of you.”
“Perfection.” He answered dutifully. “And I aim to achieve it every day.”
“Perhaps you’d better start aiming higher than even that.” She said, and Ambrosius felt his chest tighten. Higher than perfection? Was that even possible? Well, clearly it must be. Because if he was perfect, and Ballister was still out performing him, then something more than perfection must be possible.
“Yes, Director.”
“I’d like to see improvement in the next week.” She said, turning her attention to the papers on his desk. “Do not rest until you can beat Mr. Boldheart in a spar.”
If it was possible, Ambrosius felt his heart sink even lower at that. Ambrosius had only ever won against Ballister a handful of times. At this point, he was the only person Ambrosius couldn’t reliably beat. It was why they were paired so often, because they both needed the challenge. Maybe he could convince Ballister to let him win once so that he didn’t have to stay up for the next year straight. But that would involve explaining why he needed to win, and Ballister already got weird about the expectations Ambrosius was held to—which Ambrosius didn’t really understand, but figured wasn’t worth arguing. He’d just have to try extra hard.
Within two days, he’d won, but it didn’t feel earned. It almost felt like Ballister was going easy on him. A part of him wondered if he somehow knew just how desperately he needed this win.
He chalked it up to the way they seemed to always be on the same page now. Ambrosius didn’t even have to admit to having a bad day anymore, Ballister seemed to just know whenever he needed some support. And vice versa.
Ambrosius was so, so lucky to have him.
—
“No offense, love, but these are disgusting.” Ballister said, gesturing towards the eggs on his plate.
Across the table, Nimona suddenly transformed into Ballister. “Full offense, love, but these are disgusting.”
“I am never going to get used to that.” Ballister said, shuddering a bit. Nimona just grinned.
Ambrosius laughed, scooping up his plate of eggs and bringing it over to the trash can. “Noted.”
“I can’t believe the golden boy can’t even make scrambled eggs.” Nimona said. “Aren’t you supposed to be like, good at everything?”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Ambrosius said, taking her and Ballister’s plates too. “I won’t rest until I can make good scrambled eggs, I swear. You think three nights will be enough?”
He’d meant for it to be a joke, but something about his tone must’ve given him away, because Ballister’s eyebrows immediately creased. “Why would you need to do that?”
“It was just a joke, Bal.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Nimona copes with humor all the time.”
“Copes?” Ballister asked, and Ambrosius felt like he’d just been caught. He wasn’t sure why, though, until he remembered that Ballister didn’t know about the sleepless nights. That he’d kept it from him.
“Sorry, nevermind.” He said, turning away and rifling through their cabinets. “Maybe I can make toast instead.”
“Okay, no, we’re not moving on that fast.” Ballister said, coming up behind Ambrosius and gently turning him around with a hand on his waist. “What was that about?”
Ambrosius worried his lip between his teeth, drawing in a breath. He considered brushing it off again, but they’d promised to be honest with each other. He couldn’t stomach another lie. “So, funny story. Back at the Institute, whenever I didn’t get a perfect test score or get a set of moves down immediately, the Director made me stay awake until I either knew all the material like the back of my hand or got the set right. Usually I had to stay up for a couple of days at least to get it to her standards.”
It was silent for a moment, the two of them staring at him wide eyed before Ballister spoke up. “Is that why you were always so tired?”
“Yeah.” Ambrosius admitted, and when Ballister once again went silent, he felt a little panic rise in his chest. “Sorry I never told you, it’s just—I mean, back then I thought it was necessary. I didn’t want to disappoint her. And you were already so upset by the standards I was held to and I thought if you knew the extent of it you’d do something hasty. Or, well, not that you’d do anything bad! It’s just, I don’t know, you get really protective and I just didn’t want you to like, do or say anything that might make her upset. Besides, it wasn't really that bad, honestly.”
“Man.” Nimona said after another agonizing moment of dead silence. “I wish I could kill her again.”
“Seconded.” Ballister nodded.
“Wha—Bal!”
“Ambrosius, she literally deprived you of sleep for, what, decades? All because you weren’t constantly perfect?” Ballister said, incredulous. “I don’t care how you try and spin it, that is insane.”
“And abuse!” Nimona chimed in.
“And abuse.” Ballister agreed. “I mean, she’s probably the reason you’re addicted to coffee.”
“Actually, I hate coffee.” Ambrosius admitted quietly. “I only ever drank it ‘cause I had to. I couldn’t stay awake otherwise.”
“I’ll stop buying it.” Ballister promised quickly.
“What? Bal, you don’t have to do that.” Ambrosius said, brows furrowed. “You drink coffee every morning.”
“I can get a coffee maker at the shop if I’m that desperate.” He said. “And Nimona’s banned from it anyway, so not having it around the house will probably be better for her impulse control.”
“That’s fair.” She said, shrugging.
“Ambrosius.” Ballister said, with absolute seriousness. “I will never ask you to stay up, or to skip out on sleep for any reason at all. You can sleep whenever you want and as much as you want. And you don’t have to be perfect all the time. In fact, screw up the eggs every morning. I like them.”
Ambrosius laughed, unable to stop his eyes from watering. “No you don’t.”
“Okay, no I don’t. But you’re allowed to make them again if you want to.” Ballister promised, and Ambrosius hated the fact that a tear actually escaped at that. He quickly raised his hand to wipe it away.
“I think your imperfections are the most fun thing about you.” Nimona said sagely, because clearly the two of them were intent on making him cry. “I mean, all your screw ups are like a big middle finger to the Institute, and I am all for that.”
Ambrosius’s laugh cracked around the sob caught in his throat. He swallowed it back. “Thank you.”
“Of course, love.” Ballister said, pressing a soft kiss to Ambrosius’s forehead as he wiped away tears with his thumbs. “How are you feeling?”
Ambrosius shook his head, knowing what was really being asked. “I have to be at work in a half-hour.”
“Just call in sick.” Nimona suggested. “They won’t miss you.”
“I’m Captain of the Knighthood, Nimona.”
“Exactly!” She grinned. “Things can run themselves.”
“Nimona.” Ambrosius sighed.
“I think she’s right.” Ballister chimed in.
“Hey!” He gasped. “I thought you said I was good at my job.”
“You are!” He said quickly. “I more meant that things won’t just stop if you take one rest day. If you’re really worried, put someone else in charge for the day or email them a list of orders.”
Ambrosius sighed after a moment. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t right so often.”
“I can’t help it.” Ballister said, giving Ambrosius a light, playful shove in the general direction of their bedroom. “Now go call in and then get some sleep. Or just sit in bed reading. You’ve earned it.”
Ambrosius smiled. “Thank you.”
“Always.” Ballister smiled, and Ambrosius, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, found himself feeling so lucky to have him. To have them. To have people who loved him, and didn’t expect him to be anything but human.