He closed the stall to the bathroom door, locking himself in. He couldn't stand being out there, with everyone's saddened, tearful eyes and empty words of consolation. Couldn't stand the priest, who clearly thought Peter was going to hell. He really couldn't stand the way Susan and Lucy glared fiercely at him, as if Peter's suicide was his fault.

It wasn't, was it?

No, it wasn't. He couldn't be blamed for Peter's weak mind and even weaker heart.

It wasn't his fault that Peter was hung up on lost love.

England was far too different than Narnia, their love didn't stand a chance. In Narnia, they could be as free and as a gay as they pleased, but in England…

It wasn't his fault.

He sat on the toilet, shoulders slouching as he let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.

It wasn't his fault.

It wasn't his fault that Peter had been in love with him beyond the wardrobe. Peter should've known better that England was too cruel for two incestual queers. Peter, for once, should've been like him.

He knew he loved Samantha. She was wonderful, smart, talented, and beautiful, everything a guy could possibly want in a girl.

He just wasn't in love with her. If she knew that, she probably wouldn't have stood by the altar with him on that day.

It wasn't his damn fault. And damn Peter for ruining his special day. Not only was he difficult during the ceremony, but the selfish bastard had the nerve to kill himself on his damn wedding day.

And now, as long as he lives, his wedding day would always be a reminder of how weak Peter was.

It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't fair of the girls to silently blame him.

He already had enough guilt in his life. He still had nightmares over Jadis, and what he had done for her and her wicked ways. Still thought about Aslan's ultimate sacrifice, and how it should've been him on that table, not Aslan. He wept the day he asked Samantha to marry him, his rehearsed words of love echoing painfully in his head.

It wasn't his fault that he broke Peter's heart.

Edmund didn't want to move on and leave Peter. He loved the bastard, loved Peter enough to leave him in order to keep him safe.

He would rather die than have something bad happened to Peter, on his behalf.

It wasn't his fault.

He sniffled, bringing his sleeve up to his nose.

It wasn't his fault.

He coughed, his throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

It wasn't his fault.

He wiped at a tear, trying to remove it's presence as quickly as possible.

It wasn't…

He shook, his shoulders bouncing as he took quick intakes of breath.

"It's all my fault."