"Ashes Reborn, Trauma Reformed" Nimona

"Please? For me?"

Though it had been a few months now since the Queen's murder and the kigndom had begun to somewhat settle, the same couldn't be said for their relationship. They had discussed in length, numerous times, and were trying hard to work through their newfound difficulties within their correspondence, but despite their efforts, they were both painfully aware it wouldn't be the same as it had been.

"... tired." It didn't cover everything, but it wasn't incorrect either. Between juggling his relationships, caring for his struggling friend, helping rebuild the city, and his own lack of sleep, he was just as exhausted as the girl that slept on his couch.

The crunch of tortilla chips stopped, averting his eyes back to Ambrosius' now softer gaze.

"Your drink, Sir Boldheart." Trents appearance was short as he delivered the ordered beverage to his customer. Ballister nodded a thanks to the waiter before grabbing the brown bottle before him and taking a swig of the alcohol within, grateful to have some form of release from the discomfort of their ongoing conversation.

"I'm sorry." The words took Ballister a moment to process, his eyes scanning the table instead. He could feel Ambrosius' attitude had eased up, clearly aware it wasn't helping their situation. "It's just... I'm still just getting used to her, is all." He explained. "I understand she means a lot to you,"

Ballister looked at him, eyes unrelenting as he spoke. "You BOTH mean a lot to me."

Ambrosius smiled solemnly. "I know," He assured. "We just need to figure out how to make all of this work. I mean..." He hesitated, picking at his food again as he thought carefully about what he wanted to discuss."... we were going to move in together, Bal... " He continued meekly.

"And we will." Ballister reassured. "We just need to take our time on this. It's all just a lot right now." Feeling himself deflate, Ballister sunk back into the boothe. "Everything that's happened is just too much to process as quickly as we want to."

Ambrosius leant forward, placing his hand around his partners and squeezing it gently. "I understand, Bal. We'll get there. I know we will." His smile was soft, reflecting the expression in his eyes and sending warmth through to the brown eyed man before him.

Ballister smiled back, the hope reigniting in his veins as they soaked up eachothers presence. Thoughts of their future flooded his mind. One day, when they lived together, they'd wake up beside each other again. It'd be similar to before, but different. They could cook each other breakfast in bed and have late nights watching trashy movies that neither of them really cared about. They'd be able to take Nimona under their wing, give her a room, and make her feel loved the way she should have been. Maybe even a family of sorts.
But, would that really happen?
How would they get on? Would they fight?
Would Nimona stay? Would Ambrosius even let her stay?
All these questions turned those once sweet thoughts sour, but he was unsure of how to solve them. How could he have a future with his favourite people when they didn't trust each other?

"Hey, you alright?" Ballister looked up, not noticing the vice grip he had on the beer bottle he'd not long drank from. "You're brooding." Ambrosius prodded affectionately, causing Ballister to chuckle half heartedly. This was becoming familiar again.
He appreciated that.

"I'm not brooding, I'm thinking. This -" He raised his index finger to point at his features. "- is my thinking face."

Ambrosius rolled his eyes playfully. "Okay, then what are you 'thinking' about this time?"

Ballister hesitated. He was worried more often than not nowadays about talking about the feelings he had. Everything felt so fragile all the time, something he was used to but also not at the same time. When had the world flipped so cleanly to turn his life this hard? It felt more difficult than when he was a street kid desperate to prove himself. Perhaps it was because he had more to lose now than he had back then?