(Voyage of The Dawn Treader)
Caspian flung himself out of the bed and reached down for his trousers.
"Hey, where are you going?" Edmund asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows and laying a hand on Caspian's shoulder. The other boy roughly shrugged it off.
"I shouldn't have done that."
"So it was just you? I played no part at all?" Edmund hated how he could get angry so quickly, but he couldn't help himself.
"Ed, you're a kid. I shouldn't – we shouldn't..."
"Cas, look at me. Look!"
Caspian slowly turned round and looked at Edmund. The smaller boy reached up to push his hair aside. "You're eyes are old." Caspian finally conceded.
"That's because I am old. I've lived a whole life before – then been hurled back into the body of a kid; into the life of a war time child." He spun his head to look out of the window, disgust now plastered across his face. It melted however as Caspian came back under the covers and rested his head on Edmund's chest.
"You'll have to leave again." He whispered into the skin, the bristles on his face leaving gentle marks in their wake.
"Maybe this time we can fight it." Edmund responded, equally quietly, but without belief or conviction. "I don't belong back there in England. My home is here." He titled Caspian's head up by his chin and reached down to place a hand over his heart. "I belong here."
"You are so sentimental." Caspian laughed and Edmund pretended to throw him off, but then he was clutching at him, and Caspian was grabbing handfuls of his skin, his hair, trying to pull him as close as possible. When their journey ended so would this.
Aslan could hardly condone this behaviour.