Work Text:
1.
The bell rings, a high F sharp, and Caspian leaps out of his desk, more than ready to escape the Hell known as high school Calculus. Behind him, Ms. Kemper tries vainly to keep the students long enough to explain the assignment but they are already pouring out in swarms into the hallway, bustling and pushing each other around in the narrow corridors. Someone’s instrument case slams against Caspian’s kneecap and he swears, a little loudly.
“Language!” someone chides, and Caspian turns around to find Drinian looking as solemn as ever with Rhince on his tip-toes, peering over Drinian’s shoulder.
Caspian resisted the urge to retort. His stomach was grumbling and he was eager to get out of the crowded hallways and to lunch.
Many people had wondered how Drinian, straight-faced, straight-laced, and straight-A’s had managed to wander into the jock-clique of Telmar Academy. And truth be told, none of them knew either. Drinian was reserved and quiet, unlike Caspian and Reep, who were determined to be as disruptive to society as possible, according to Lilliandil. However, it was undeniable that he was a good friend and a great reality check. And very handsome according to Rhince, although Caspian had some choice words on that matter.
They pushed through the coagulating masses as Drinian and Rhince continued to argue about something having to do with chemistry. Finally, they made it out of the noisy hallways and to the steps outside where Liliandil sat, her sandwich balanced on her knees, body reached sideways to instruct Rilian on something. Rilian heard the commotion and looked up from his papers, immediately donning a shit-eating grin.
“I bid you good noontide, father,” Rilian teases as Caspian sits down, “I hope you bring good tidings concerning your noble subjugations upon Calculus?”
Caspian groaned, slouched against the concrete steps, “Cut the bullshit, you know how much Ms. Kemper hates me,”
Drinian twisted his brows together: “She would like you a lot better if you actually tried in class, y’know?”
Caspian groaned again, burying his face into his hands. Rhince patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“Why don’t we talk about something other than Caspian’s noticeable lack of a certain skill set?” Liliandil proposes and Caspian thinks he could’ve kissed her on the mouth right then and there if he didn’t know for a fact she would slap him if he did so.
“Like homecoming and Caspian’s conspicuous lack of a date?” Rilian suggested and Caspian nearly screamed.
“What a bloody great son you are, will you DROP this for the love of God, I-” he rubs his temples, considering very seriously whether he should disown Rilian. Rilian, the rat bastard, looks on, thoroughly amused at his outburst which HE had caused.
“I don’t understand how you don’t have a date yet,” Rhince joined in on the game of lets-see-how-much-we-can-annoy-Caspian, as if he wanted to be properly decked in the face, “there’s like, a mile-long line of people waiting for you to ask them to Homecoming. Is it really that hard?”
Caspian glared at Rhince out of the corner of his eyes and his left hand, which was tangled with Drinian’s right, and huffed, dropping his head back against the railings.
“What’s King Caspian moping about again?” Reepicheep teased as he skipped down the steps to his usual spot next to Tavros, who had a look of extreme confusion painted across his face throughout the entire conversation.
“He doesn’t have-” Rhince starts but Caspian immediately claps a hand over his mouth. Rhince cast him an up-to-no-good glance before licking Caspian’s palm. Caspian retreated with a grimace, wiping his hand on his pants as he went.
“I have a boyfriend,” he sulks, a little loudly, crossing his arms, feeling rather like a petulant child.
“Uhuh,” Reepicheep nods placatingly, “Whatever you say King Caspian.”
“He goes to a different school!” Caspian yells, sitting straighter, ready to deck Reep in the face. But then he curled back up, suddenly extremely aware of a group of girls glancing over at their group, giggling and pointing.
“Right…” Rilian nods along with Reep, like the little shit-gremlin he is. Caspian takes a deep breath and reminds himself. He is captain of the soccer team, the star player of the water polo team, hell, he even won state in tennis last year. He will not be getting upset over losing an argument about his very much real and handsome and smart boyfriend.
Seeing that Caspian has calmed down and there will be no fun in provoking him anymore, his friends graciously move on to discussing the English test next week on King Lear.
Caspian unpacks his lunch with a sigh.
2.
“Nice bracelet, Edmund,” Peter nods at his wrist, where a peak of gold flashes beneath the edge of his sleeve.
He hummed noncommittally, downing the last bit of coffee in his mug.
“It’s nearly six in the evening, Edmund, don’t you think you should be drinking less caffeine?” Susan chides, snatching the mug from his hand before he can get a refill. Edmund pouts at her, hoping his puppy eyes will convince her. He was, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful, and he cursed under his breath as Susan dropped his mug into the sink.
“Not in front of Lucy!” Peter exclaimed, rushing to cover Lucy’s ears. Lucy hmphed, crossing her arms.
“I can swear!” she protested, then after a pause, as if to demonstrate her point, “Fuck!”
Peter slumped bonelessly onto the sofa, as if devoid of all hope in life while Susan muttered something that sounded oddly like “God gives me patience.”
After a bit, Edmund finally accepts that he won’t be getting any more coffee for the rest of the night, so he decides he might as well start on his Calculus homework. As he reaches down to grab his math binder, his bracelet, just a little too loose, slips down past his sleeve and below his wrist.
“Awwww, Edmund, is that a Gryffindor bracelet?” Peter teases, pouncing on every opportunity to cause Edmund’s death out of sheer frustration, “I thought you were very determined to be in Slytherin!”
Edmund scoffed, stuffing the gold bracelet back into his sleeve.
“It’s okay, Gryffindor welcomes you with open arms, it’s alright to have a change of mind-”
“Will you shut your insufferable mouth before I do something against the law?” Edmund implores, flipping through his binder to find his worksheet.
“You’ve always been my favorite brother, y’know,” Peter, the magnificent oaf, continues, slinging an arm over Edmund’s shoulder. Edmund represses the urge to remind Peter that he is his only brother, and therefore his favorite, whether he likes it or not.
“I’m still in Slytherin, you blasted pig-faced goblin,” he mutters, finally pulling out his assignment from the depths of his binder.
“Did you buy the wrong bracelet?” Lucy asks from the other end of the kitchen table, “You were quite adamant about not being in Gryffindor just a week ago if my memory does not fail me.”
“Can we stop arguing about ten-dollar bracelets featuring a very much fictional house system?” He whines, trying to concentrate on the jumble of mathematical symbols spread out in front of him.
“No, I have to know,” Peter persists, the stubborn fool as he is, “What happened to the Edmund we knew, huh?”
Edmund turns his pleading eyes to Susan, mentally asking for backup. Unfortunately, Susan had decided to be extraordinarily cruel today, for not only did she take away his coffee but she has also refused to help Edmund. Trapped between Lucy and Peter’s searching stares he felt like a half-dead animal in a group of hyenas.
“My boyfriend gave it to me, alright? Now will you please shut up and let me finish my homework?” He pushed Peter’s arm off of his shoulders.
There was blissful silence for a moment. And then Edmund looked up. Peter’s mouth was open like a gasping fish.
“Impossible,” he declared, “the only thing I’ve seen you pull are push doors,”
Edmund glanced over at Susan, his last ray of hope and sanity in the household, only to find that she was laughing, breathlessly and soundlessly. The ultimate betrayal.
“Et tu, Brute?” Edmund groaned. Susan had the grace to look sheepish, even as her eyes shone with mirth, and Edmund supposed, quietly, that his humiliation was worth it.
“How come I’ve never seen your boyfriend? We go to the same school Edmund,” Susan asked, and she had that scheming look that Edmund never quite liked. Especially when he knew she was scheming about him.
“He goes to a different school,” Edmund grouched, wishing for the silence he needed for his math homework. It was truly terrible, but Calculus couldn’t be any worse than the torture his siblings were putting him through.
“Oooooooh,” Lucy heckled, dragging every syllable out incessantly, “Edmund has a boyfriend who goes to a different schoooool”
“If I hear another one of those abhorrent noises come out of your mouth, I will cut out your tongue myself,” Edmund threatened.
“Oooooh, getting defensive over your little boyfriend, aren’t you?” Peter joined in, and Edmund wondered why he even bothered anymore.
“We have a date on Friday, actually,” he mutters, aiming for nonchalant but probably just sounding petulant.
“That’s great, Edmund,” Peter started, and Edmund wondered what demon had possessed him to say such positive things, “We love seeing you branch out, even if it’s in your own imagination.”
Nope, Edmund thought, a little dejected, not possessed, still the same arsehole Peter is.
3.
“Caspian!” The brunette hears someone yell, and he whirls around just in time for Reep to hurl straight into him.
“We’re going to Drinian’s house to watch movies, ya wanna come?” Reep plows through, as though unbothered by slamming into Caspian moments before.
“And watch Drinian and Rhince be sappy for another few hours?” he snorts, “No thanks.”
“It’s Lord of the Rings though,” Reep pleads, “And it’s a marathon, we can sleep over since tomorrow’s Saturday and there’s food and everything-”
“Sorry Reep, I don’t think I can come,” Caspian paused in rifling through his backpack to look down at the shorter boy apologetically. Reep rolled his eyes.
“C’mon when have your parents ever cared if you go out or not,” Caspian feigned hurt and clutched his heart. Reep dismisses his melodramatic antics with a wave of his hand.
“But, really, no, I don’t think I can.” He said finally, slamming his locker shut and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“I’ll buy you muffins in the cafeteria,” Rilian joins in, popping up out of the ground like a prairie dog.
“For a week,” Reep nods along, enthusiastic. Capsian rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics.
“No, children, I’m afraid I have to stay behind. You shall go forth on this honorable conquest without me.”
Rilian snorts a laugh as Reep protests something about how he is the same age as Caspian and Caspian has no right to call him a child-
“Well you certainly look like a child with that height,” He teased, jumping back before Reep could jab him in the ribs.
“But really, guys, I have plans tonight,” He continued, walking to the bike racks where he waited to be picked up.
“Cancel them,” Reep piped up immediately. Caspian rolled his eyes again. If he had to keep on talking to these idiots he was afraid his eyes may be permanently stuck half-rolled in his sockets.
“No,” Caspian sighed, “I have a date, and I’d rather not cancel it on my partner.”
Rilian started whistling conspiratorily while Reep smirked at him.
“Yeah, you’d hate to cancel your plans with your very real boyfriend who goes to a different school, but is conspicuously absent at every single sporting event-”
“He does come to my games!” Caspian explains, tempted to throw hands, “You just don’t know him!”
Reep hums, almost mockingly: “Of course your majesty.”
Thankfully, at that moment, Caspian’s dad pulls up in front of the school, and he walks towards it, yelling over his shoulder, “Have fun with the movie marathon!”
“Have fun with your very real date!” Rilian yells right back and Caspian flips him off in one fluid, practiced moment over his shoulder without looking back.
The car rolls out of the school with Caspian’s friends’ laughter still ringing in his ears.
4.
They are sitting in the library when Phillip brings the dastardly topic up again.
“Aren’t you jealous of your siblings?” he asked, not even looking up from his thick portfolio of evidence for their debate tournament next week. Edmund feels a wave of confusion and a little wince of pain pass over him. It’s been a while since he felt overshadowed by his sibling’s accomplishments, and he has grown to appreciate his own accomplishments more. It’s undeniable that there are still bad days but-
“Why on earth would you ask such a question?” Edmund mumbles, tapping his pencil against his teeth.
“Since they’re all in relationships and such?” Phillip elaborates hastily, pulling Edmund’s argument over to him so he could inspect it more closely.
“I’m in a relationship,” Edmund replies, even more confused. Phillip snorts, a little dismissive and Edmund feels a curl of annoyance rise in his chest, although he tamps it down.
“Back on your bullshit huh?” Phillip comments as he draws a few arrows around Edmund’s argument, “You should stop manifesting your crushes into fictional relationships–is it the cute girl on the debate team? Cordelia?”
Edmund’s brows furrow even more: “Phillip I’m gay.”
“Right right,” Phillip paused, jotting down some notes beside his main argument.
“So is it Trumpkin?” he continues. Edmund pulls a face. Phillip must’ve seen it, and he laughs.
“Dude, calm down, I’m joking…” he pushes the paper back at Edmund, along with a stack of reading material.
“He goes to another school,” Edmund fumes, wondering what sort of horrors he committed in his last life to be stuck with someone like Phillip, “you wouldn’t know him.”
“The kid who fences with Peter? The short one who looks like a mouse?”
“Reepicheep. He would have your head if he heard that.”
Phillip dismisses his comments: “He’s cute but I don’t see it. Hm.”
“Stop guessing, dumbass, and help me find historical examples of how diplomacy is more effective than war-mongering,” Edmund grumbled, flicking to a page in the book Phillip dog-eared for him.
“Aha! That cute soccer player from Telmar? The captain? What was his name, Charles? Carl?”
Edmund rolled his eyes even as a flush rose from his neck onto his cheeks: “Caspian?”
“Yes! That guy!” Phillip sounded as if he was the one who scored a relationship with a soccer captain. He quickly groaned despite his newfound and rather pathetic victory, “Please don’t tell me you have a crush on him.”
Edmund elected to ignore him and focus on densely packed lines in front of him.
“You have a crush on every rich kid,” Phillip continued with a whine, sounding a lot more like a toddler than the dignified debate captain he was.
“I do not!” Edmund protests, wondering in the back of his mind why he was getting so worked up over this.
“You totally do!” Phillip fired back, “Issac, Gale, Alex… I could go on and on. Wasn’t there an Andrew in the mix too?”
Edmund aimed a kick at Phillip's shin and although he cried out in pain, he smiled at Edmund with an almost dangerous glint in his eyes.
“I’ll tell him about your little crush,” Phillip teased.
“We’re dating for God’s sake-”
“Impossible-”
“My brother said that too.”
“-Caspian? Captain of the Telmar Soccer Team? Classic jock? Has a fan club dedicated to him? Please, Edmund, put your delusions away, you couldn’t even stand him if you tried.”
“I can’t,” Edmund replies monotone, “The only delusional one here is you. Need I remind you about Will?”
Phillip snapped his mouth shut.
“That’s what I thought. Shut up and focus lest I break your shins again.”
Edmund swore he heard Phillip mutter something as he turned back to his argument.
5.
There is the exhilaration after a victory. The relief. The sheer joy as his friends rush onto the field to surround him.
It’s moments like this, Caspian thinks as he is being pushed around by his friends on the field, that reminds him why exactly he loves sports so much.
The losing side, Narnia High School, had finished moping and the team started trooping back into the lockers.
“Hey,” Caspian turned, suddenly seeing Peter in front of him, “Good match,”
“Yeah, you too,” He briefly considered teasing them about their loss, before deciding it was a bit much to kick a man while he was down, even if the man in question was Peter.
“We’ll win next time though,” Peter smirks, “Don’t get too used to celebrating–The last thing you rich kids need is another ego stroke.”
“Better try harder next year then,” He shoots back, and Peter huffs good-naturedly.
“Yeah, yeah of course. You behave while we’re preparing to beat your ass, alright?” Peter waved at him and jogged across the field to join his team.
“Bold words for a kid going to Narnia Episcopal High School,” A voice came from beside him, spitting out the word “Episcopal” as if it was an insult. Caspian turned to find a junior girl he didn’t know looking almost hungrily at him. He felt a wave of disgust roll over him followed by an even stronger wave of anger.
“He is a good soccer player. And a good person.” Caspian pulled himself a little taller, then added, as an afterthought, “And he’s not even Catholic.”
The girl seemed unaffected and grew bolder instead, “You can do so much better than him…” She purrs, rolling the words over her tongue in a way that is more disgusting than sensual. Caspian felt his nose crinkle as she pawed at his arm.
“No thank you,” Caspian refused, trying to slip his arm out of hers. He started panicking just a little as the girl gripped on even tighter. Like a boa constrictor. Suddenly the air felt a lot harder to breathe and certainly not in a good way-
“You were quite handsome on the field, you know,” she persists, fluttering her eyelashes up at him. He could smell a hint of vodka on her breath and wondered how he, the jock, was the sober one out of the two of them. The high school movies were clearly wrong.
“I’m aware, thanks,” he mutters dryly, “now if you’ll excuse me-”
“Leaving me without a kiss?” the girl asks, pulling him down a little. Caspian’s stomach roils.
“No- no, I have a boyfriend,” he wrenches his arm out of her grasp and the girl had the decency to look a little offended.
“No you don’t,” she slurred, brows knitting together at the sudden rejection. She seemed a little unsteady, swaying on her feet. Caspian didn’t even want to fathom how drunk she must be.
“I think I would know if I had a boyfriend or not, thanks very much,” he retorts, and feels a little silly, arguing with a drunk, flirtatious girl who didn’t even have all her wits about her.
Thankfully, Nausus, bless his soul, found him before the girl could make another move at him, and dragged him to the rest of the friends, where they were ready to drive back to Rhince’s house to watch the Lord of the Rings movies in one sitting again, in classic Telmar Soccer Team post-victory fashion.
“What took you so long?” Reep interrogated him as they piled into the car.
“A drunk girl tried to seduce me,” Caspian grimaced, fishing a hand sanitizer bottle out of his bag and rubbing it over his hands aggressively.
“And, lemme guess, you told her you have a boyfriend?” Rilian asked, turning around from where he was perched in the front. Lilliandil immediately pounced on him, chiding him about how it was a serious matter, Caspian was harassed and it was nothing to be joked about-
“But I do,” Caspian sulked, internally thankful for Lilliandil’s defense. He felt a little out of his skin at the moment, everything was blurry and his arm, where the girl had gripped him felt sticky and uncomfortable. Caspian could feel his lips twisting into a pout. He missed his boyfriend, his bright eyes and soft hair and sarcastic words-
“No one said you didn’t,” Rhince started the car with a roar, and they backed out of the school parking lot.
“Exactly,” Caspian continued, feeling a little delirious and more than a little tired, tripping over his own words, “He’s the cutest, smartest person ever and he’s definitely real, an’ he goes to different school an’ tha’s why you never see him. An’ he’s preparing for the winter play, it’s like Dead Week? Hell Week? Tech Week? I dunno…”
“We get it Caspian,” Drinian snorted from his left, “You’re very in love with your very much real boyfriend.”
“Mhm…” Caspian agreed as his head drooped and he drifted off to sleep.
+1
Caspian drives him to the play, of course, he does, like the knight on a white horse he rightfully is. He only got his permit a few weeks before and Edmund was constantly afraid that Caspian would crash the car on the way there. Perhaps it had to do with the daredevil way he drove. Or the way he glanced at Edmund every so often.
“Keep your eyes on the fucking road you imbecile,” he hissed as Caspian swerved through nighttime city traffic, lurching a little dangerously to the right.
Caspian only let out one of those unfairly cute little laughs. “Ever the eloquent speaker,” he teased.
“We won the debate tournament I’ll have you know-” Edmund was interrupted as Caspian careened again, and Edmund swore up and down he heard the curb scrape against the side of the car.
“Rich kids,” he muttered. Caspian laughs again and Edmund thinks it's unfair when he can just do that and suddenly Edmund can’t find it within himself to be angry anymore.
“I can hold your hand if you’re scared,” He offered, flashing a charming smile. Edmund could feel a flush creep unto the tips of his ears, and his heartbeat picked up a notch–whether from fear or attraction, he wouldn’t know.
“As much as I appreciate the sentiment,” he ground out through his teeth, “I would appreciate it more if you kept both your eyes on the road and both your hands on the wheel.”
“Aye aye,” Caspian responded, almost mockingly, but he kept true to Edmund’s request for the rest of the ride.
As the car pulled into the Narnia High School parking lot, Edmund felt like he had seen God multiple times. His neck felt stiff and high-strung, and there were definitely indents in the expensive leather seats from how hard Edmund had gripped him.
Edmund escaped the confines of Caspian’s car as soon as it was properly parked, stumbling onto the sidewalk like a newborn fawn, his legs wobbling a little from the shock.
Caspian got out from the driver’s side, as nonchalant and unbothered as ever.
“You,” Edmund stepped closer to him, the edge dulled a little by how shaky his voice was, “drive like a madman.”
“Is there any way I can convince you to forgive me?” Caspian stepped even closer, hands running up and down his arms softly. Edmund cursed his height, not for the first time in his life and certainly not the last, and how Caspian was just so much taller, unfairly tall actually, with unfairly pretty eyes that pulled at his very heart whenever he attempted to make eye contact with him. And don’t even get him started on the hair, the silky mop of curls that Edmund would love to braid flowers into and-
“Ed?” Caspian was looking at him, a little concerned. Edmund suddenly realized how he must’ve been staring. He turned his face to the left a little abashedly.
“Aww, don’t hide that pretty face from me,” Caspian cooed, even though Edmund knew he was reveling in this, the bastard. Caspian put a hand on his cheek and righted him so Edmund was looking into his boyfriend, his boyfriend’s, eyes once again.
“Tell me,” Caspian’s voice was lowered by an octave, and Edmund shivered a little, “What can I do to earn your forgiveness, my dear?”
“Kiss me,” Edmund blurted out and immediately blushed again, burying his face into Caspian’s chest. There was a chuckle above him.
“Well I can’t kiss you if you’re like that, darling,” A finger found its way under Edmund’s chin. And suddenly, it felt like the stars were falling from the skies as Caspian leaned down to press his lips against Edmund. They were soft against him, gentle as if he was trying to coax Edmund’s heart out of his ribcage. Caspian’s hands were now at the nape of his neck, tangling themselves into his curls and pushing Edmund up even more to meet him. Blood was roaring in his ears and he felt all his pre-performance jitters melt out of his veins as he went all but limp against Caspian’s chest. There was something tingling in his fingertips and-
“Edmund, what the fuck.” Trumpkin’s voice rang out from the door to the auditorium. Edmund leaped back from Caspian’s chest as if something had burnt him. He certainly felt as if he was on fire.
“Edmund, what- who- when- what the fuck?” Trumpkin settled on a swear again after stumbling through a series of desperate questions.
Caspian falls into an absurdly flourished bow: “Caspian, at your service.”
Edmund could see the gears clicking in Trumpkin’s mind as he squinted his eyes at them.
“Wait, Caspian? Like the captain of the Telmar soccer team, Caspian? The guy who decimated Peter in the tournament? Like- Why were you kissing him?” Trumpkin rounded in on Edmund. Phillip, hearing the commotion rushed out to join Trumpkin in interrogating him as if they were the Spanish Inquisition.
“Who’s Edmund kissing?” Phillip asks as if this was a piece of hallway drama. Which, Edmund supposed, it could be. Caspian pulled Edmund in even closer against his chest and Edmund resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his protectiveness, even as his heartbeat picked up another notch.
“Caspian! Telmar rich kid!” Trumpkin half-yells, sounding hysterical, gesturing wildly at Caspian. Phillip’s eyes widen.
“No fucking way,” he exclaims, “Telmar soccer captain?”
“Hey,” Caspian frowns, offended, “I play water polo too-”
“HE SPEAKS!” Phillip jumps back as if Caspian is a beaver instead of an evidently human boy capable of human speech.
Edmund quietly prays to God for a new set of friends.
“I don’t know them,” he mutters, embarrassed, turning to Caspian, “I have to go in, Frank will probably have us do a thousand mic checks again.”
“Break a leg,” Caspian smiles, so brightly Edmund thinks he might outshine the lamps situated around the parking lot.
“Tell that to the actors,” Edmund grumbled, turning his face to hide his blush.
“You’ll do great,” Caspian patted his head like he was a cat. Edmund hissed at him and moved towards his friends.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m gone, ok?” Edmund turns back one last time and wags a finger at Caspian.
“If I didn’t do things you wouldn’t do, I wouldn’t be doing anything!” He yells back. Edmund turned back, even as he was pushing down a smile.
“Boyfriends, am I right?” He says instead to Phillip and Trumpkin’s shaken expressions.
“You weren’t lying,” Phillip starts, a little awestruck.
“I never lie,” Edmund replies smoothly before frowning, “Wait, never mind.”
The joke seems to have completely flown over their heads, as Trumpkin and Phillip keep staring at him with that stupid, surprised expression as if he was unable to get a boyfriend (he is very much incompetent in that area, as a matter of fact, he has no idea how he got so far with Caspian).
“Hurry up, won’t you, Frank will have our heads if we don’t hurry up.”
The show went well. A true miracle from God. There was one brief prop change where Edmund forgot to bring a tree back from the stage, but thankfully Trumpkin had done it for him. He, of course, added that to a ledger of thanks Edmund owed to him.
Caspian sat through it all, his eyes lighting up like a golden retriever every time he saw Edmund onstage, waving like a madman. He cheered and yelled as the tech crew went out to bow, causing quite a commotion. Edmund twisted his face to the side even as he felt his face split into a grin uncontrollably.
When the show was over, Caspian was one of the first sprinting out of the theater, immediately locating Edmund and pulling him into a rib-crushing embrace, much to the surprise of everyone else in the tech crew. Some soccer players in the crowd narrowed their eyes at Caspian, but he seemed completely uncaring, slinging his arms around Edmund and resting his head upon Edmund’s.
Caspian walked him out to the lot after Edmund finished cleaning up the stage, fingers interlocked with his. As Edmund was bracing himself for another terrifying ride home, a voice suddenly rang out from across the parking lot.
“Caspian?”
The source was a tall, broad-shouldered, brunette Edmund only vaguely remembered. He was peering at Caspian and Edmund curiously.
“Rhince!” Caspian called back, excitement evident in his voice.
Ah, Edmund thought, he must be here to pick up Gael. Lucy had apparently brought her the show. He wondered absentmindedly if Peter would be at the school to pick Lucy up as well.
As Rhince walked closer, he noticed Edmund and Caspian’s fingers, still tangled with each other. He frowned a little, the expression reminding Edmund greatly of Trumpkin’s when he had an epiphany just hours earlier.
“Caspian- Caspian for the love of God, what the fuck- how the fuck did you pull a Narnia kid you’re a jock what do you mean??” He questioned, sounding more and more unsure of his reality as the sentence progressed.
“I’m dating him for the money,” Edmund pipes up. Caspian rolls his eyes at him.
“Not because I’m dashing and irresistible?” He teases, swinging their arms a little.
“You’re actually daft and irresponsible but go on,” Edmund retorted, falling into their familiar banter.
“Just how you like me huh,” Caspian smirks, and Edmund feels like something was stuck in his throat. How Susan would laugh he she saw him like this, master debater, Edmund the Just, struck dumb by a simple smirk.
Rhince seemed speechless, staring between Caspian and Edmund like it was some sort of puzzle he had yet to solve. Edmund felt a little thrill of victory at befuddling someone, even if it was some simpleminded Telmar kid.
However, his victory didn’t last very long.
“Edmund?” Peter’s voice called out from the entrance, where he stood beside Lucy and Gael.
Edmund turned while Caspian gave a little wave. Peter must’ve noticed as he narrowed his eyes.
“Caspian.” Edmund’s idiot brother greeted curtly, “I see that you have decided to defile the Pevensie family line.”
Caspian, in response, pulled Edmund in and caged him against his chest as if it was a hostage situation.
Chaos broke out. Peter leaped forward, clearly intending to strangle the living daylights out of Caspian while Lucy looked utterly shellshocked. Rhince yelled, jumping to defend his friend. Caspian chose to grab Edmund’s hand and make a mad dash towards the car, pulling Edmund along.
They laughed until their lungs hurt in the safety of their car as Peter banged on the windows, absurdly furious. Caspian found Edmund’s hand again, clasped it, and waved it in front of Peter’s face, poking Peter the bear with a stick like the idiot he was. Edmund’s face hurt from how much he was smiling. He looked over at Caspian, his bright eyes and smile, his chest rising and falling a little. He felt as if his heart was expanding, until it was too big for his chest, too big for him at all.
“I love you,” Edmund said suddenly, feeling as if his heart had exploded and now was spilling out of the corners of his lips. Caspian turned to look at him, his eyes softening.
“Love you too, darling,” he hummed. A pause, and then: “I would kiss you, but I think Peter would break through the doors and kill us both.”
Edmund laughed, throwing his head back. He could get used to this, he thinks. Loving someone. His boyfriend who goes to a different school. Anyone in general. The world.
“We should head back before you get too sappy,” Caspian teased, and Edmund realized with a start he had been thinking out loud. Edmund gave his hand one last squeeze before he let go and Caspian pouted at him like a spoiled child. Edmund huffed at his antics.
“Hands on the steering wheel, Caspian, and eyes on the road. And for the love of God, drive like a sane man please,” Edmund muttered as he nudged Caspian’s hand back to the driver’s side of the car.
“Love you too, Ed,” Caspian winked and Edmund turned his head to the other side, smiling into the window and the night sky outside.