Chapter Text
It was like a battlefield all over again.
The moment I heard the commotion on the school field and saw Edmund lying there, crumpled on the ground, everything else blurred into white noise. My heart stopped. My legs moved on their own, faster than I thought possible, and before I knew it, I was at his side, hands shaking as I checked him over.
“Ed? Edmund!”
His eyes fluttered open briefly, dazed, and I heard someone say something about a baseball. A baseball. I felt my chest tighten, the weight of panic coiled so tight it hurt to breathe. He was fine. He had to be fine. But I couldn’t stop the memories that came rushing back, memories of war, of watching him fall before, lifeless in my arms.
By the time we made it to the infirmary, I couldn’t let go of him. The nurse had given me an odd look, muttering something about needing space to check him over, but I barely heard her. My arms stayed firmly around him, my ear pressed against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
That sound was the only thing keeping me grounded.
“Peter,” he said after a while, his voice soft but tinged with something I knew too well—amusement.
I didn’t move. “What?”
“This is embarrassing,” he whispered.
I felt him shift slightly, probably blushing because that’s just how Edmund is. Always quick to deflect, to make light of things.
“Don’t care,” I muttered into his chest, holding on tighter. My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping it like it might somehow anchor him to me. “Just let me stay like this for a little while longer.”
I knew how ridiculous I looked—how ridiculous this *was.* But I couldn’t help it. Not after seeing him like that, not after the split second of thinking he might be...
“Peter, it was just a baseball, not an arrow or a sword. I’ll live,” he said with a soft chuckle, his voice low and warm.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat felt tight, and my mind refused to let go of the image of him on the ground.
“Hopeless,” he murmured, and I felt his hand brush through my hair, gentle and familiar.
Maybe I was hopeless, but I didn’t care.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” I mumbled, the words leaving me before I could stop them.
He sighed, and I felt him shift, his chin resting lightly on my head. “Not a promise,” he said, his tone teasing.
I groaned against his chest. I didn’t even have the energy to argue.
A pause. Then his voice, mischievous now, broke the fragile peace.
“I hope you didn’t cry when I fainted earlier.”
My body stiffened. I lifted my head just enough to glare at him. He had that look on his face, the one that always meant trouble.
“Of course not,” I said flatly.
He smirked. “Sure you didn’t.”
His grin widened when I didn’t respond right away. The redness around my eyes was a dead giveaway, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, I huffed and buried my face back against his chest.
“Shut up,” I muttered.
His chuckle vibrated softly beneath my ear, and his hand started ruffling my hair again, the motion as comforting as it had always been. No matter how much older we got, no matter how much had changed, this was us.
And, ridiculous or not, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.