Caspian watched as the boy he loved walked away, back to his own world, his own time, and it felt like every goodbye he had ever been told all at once.
This was it. He was sure of it. Nothing would ever compare to the pain of losing Peter.
His King.
The years went on, but not a day passed that he did not think fondly of Peter.
He would remember the times they had spent together, and smile to himself as though the memories were the force keeping him alive. Sometimes, late at night, when he would look at the stars, he would realise that was exactly what these memories were.
At night, he dreamt of kisses on his neck, wandering hands, whispered "I love you's" and a boy with blue eyes.
And when he woke, sometimes, he would turn to wake Peter, until the realisation would sink in, that he was gone.
Never would he admit that it caused him to cry himself back to sleep.
The time came, however, as it always would, for Caspian to take a wife. He had known that by rejecting any women he found even slightly disagreeable, he was only postponing the inevitable.
But time stops for no man, and Caspian was no exception.
And so, he was married, and if the woman did have striking blue eyes, and short blonde hair... Well, that was nobody's business.
When the time came to conceive an heir, with every touch, every time he touched her, a flash of guilt flooded through him. It felt so wrong, it always would with somebody who was not Peter.
Caspian was not one to believe in things such as soulmates, but when, after decades, he still sat, and looked at the stars and thought of Peter, it would be foolish of him to believe any different.
Of course, his wife did not remain completely ignorant, no, she was not nearly stupid enough.
One night, when he was looking out at Narnia, the peaceful Narnia he had forged long ago, the boy crossed his mind once more. He had found himself caught up in his own head, and had not noticed his wife taking a seat next to him.
She said nothing for a moment, and seemingly out of the blue, she spoke up, not looking her husband in the eye.
"You know, you must let some things go free. And you too must go free without it. To grow, to learn. But, in the end, you always come back. To what you need."
She had smiled knowingly, looking out at the view. Caspian had no need to ask what it was she was speaking of.
When Caspian eventually passed on, and arrived in Aslan's country after his death, what he found there, was the last thing he expected.
He had no idea what to expect of Aslan's country, whether it would look like Narnia, or a completely different world altogether. But what he had not expected, was for him to have somehow turned back to his seventeen year old self.
He bowed to Aslan, and the only explanation the great lion offered was,
"In my country, you are forever at your happiest."
If lions could smirk, Caspian would swear that it was what Aslan was doing before he turned and walked away.
And then, Peter Pevensie was walking towards him.
Now, he had always known that time worked differently in England than it did in Narnia. If a year there was one thousand, three hundred years in Narnia, Caspian would have expected that when he died, whether it be old age or battle, barely any time would have passed in England.
By this logic, Peter should have been very much alive.
"Peter." He had said, incredulously. "How are you here?"
The other boy smiled sadly, and Caspian had felt Peter's hand cupping his cheek softly.
"I couldn't live without you."
A/N: So yeah, this was based on a headcanon from gaysexisyaysex from Tumblr. If it wasn't as obvious as I'd hoped it would be, Peter did kill himself.
