Chapter 3: Peter

Peter and Edmund wandered through the deserted corridors of Professor Kirke's mansion. It felt as if the building was endless: no matter how far they walked, they always found new hallways, stairs, bedrooms, studies.

"Do you feel like opening some doors?" Edmund asked with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Do I?" Peter asked and flunged the closest door open. The room appeared to only have a fireplace and a few comfy-looking armchairs in it. Edmund kicked the door shut and said cheerfully:
"Not good enough! Let's try this one instead!"

They went on like that for about twenty minutes, but Edmund never seemed to be quite pleased with what they found.

"Another dud."

"That's it", Peter said finally, "Just what are you looking for?"

Edmund stopped to think for a moment.
"I'm not sure… But I'll tell you when I find it!"

Peter laughed and followed his brother, who had already run to the next door.

"Who's slamming those doors up there?"

Peter and Edmund froze. It was the Macready's voice.

"You'd better come quickly", Edmund called for Peter and answered before he had even had time to ask the question, "I sort of upset her earlier."

So they shoved themselves through the nearest door. It was completely empty, except for a big mahogany wardrobe.

"How did - ", Peter started, but was cut off by Edmund's finger on his lips. If a picture is worth a thousand words, a look is worth the whole truth. During that look Edmund let his hand drop, but Peter caught it in mid-air.

"Ed, don't tell me – "

Edmund looked like he was going to burst into tears. Again.

"You have no idea how… You were never supposed to find out."

Peter felt dizzy, sick, and overwhelmed.
"What…?" he whispered.

"Agree with Susan yet?"

"…I think I'm going to be sick", Peter said and was about to leave the room and go find a bathroom, but Edmund ran to the door and slammed his back against it.

"You can't just leave me here! Besides, old Macready's still there", said Edmund, pushing Peter farther from the door.

"Could you just… not touch me?" Peter asked weakly. His voice was shuddering. And so was Edmund's body. He was crying again.
This sight made Peter realise that Edmund was still his baby brother and he was responsible for him.

"Hey, Ed, take it easy. I didn't mean it like that."
He reached out to awkwardly pat Edmund on the shoulder. As Peter was doing his best to settle his thoughts into at least some kind of an order, Edmund threw himself at Peter with a force that almost made them fall onto the floor. Edmund was clinging to him like he was never going to let go.
Peter swallowed down his will to push his brother away.

"Umm… Ed?"

"No! Don't say it! I won't let you say that you hate me!"

"You're making no sense at all. Why would I hate you? You're my brother!"
Edmund turned his bloodshot glance towards Peter, who went on:
"And now that I got to that… Ed, you're my brother. This isn't normal."

"When was I ever normal?" Edmund noted in that gloomy tone again.

Peter mentally slapped his forehead with his palm. He was getting nowhere.

"No, Ed. Listen to me. Have you ever heard of… say, brotherly love?"

"You… think I don't know the difference?"

"No. I just hoped you didn't."

Peter felt completely lost. How was he going to fix things now? Would things ever go back to normal again?

"It doesn't have to change anything, you know. We could always just… pretend nothing ever happened", Edmund said as if he had read Peter's mind. No matter how much Peter liked the offer, he knew he couldn't be that selfish. He heard the pain through Edmund's words.

"Edmund, even though I've never been in love it doesn't mean I don't love. That I don't know what love is. We can never go back to what we had."

Edmund began to sob against Peter's chest. Peter wanted nothing more than to release his little brother from his pain.

"What should I do? What will make you happy?"

Edmund blinked, "Pardon?"

"I'm not going to kiss you, though."

Edmund's face brightened up as he began to understand.

"Silly", he chuckled, "Just stay there for a little while."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You're slobbering on my shirt."

"Oh, shut up! You're ruining the moment."

Peter wiped away a leftover tear from Edmund's face with his thumb, hiding his last feeling of nausea with the softest smile he could come up with.

A/N: oh poor things.