A game, Francis had turned their walk into.  A mistake, because Edmund was very competitive.

Every time he'd be knocked into, the boy would nearly crash into the cobblestone street, recovered at the very last second only before returning the push with a wild laugh.  Edmund was careful at first, sending the shove with only half the strength it was given to him, but Francis was relentless and Edmund wanted to win.

He didn't know how winning would happen, but he would do it.

When Francis spoke, though, Edmund paused.  Suddenly, he felt like crying.

Silly games were not new to Edmund, but he'd only ever played them with his sister.  New experiences lately were terrifying, but done out of necessity rather than foolish, but done out of impulse.  He'd never even drank with anyone before today.

He'd been missing out on this for eighteen years, he realized.  His whole life.

"Having friends is nice," he agreed softly.  "I'm glad to meet you too."  But the words alone were not enough.  Were there words that could express what Edmund was feeling?  Probably, but if they were out there, he didn't know them.

"You really are amazing.  I know - I know I just met you, but I know it.  Thank you, Francis.  I mean it."

Edmund turned to look the other in his face as he spoke.  His eyes fluttered all over, from his eyes to nose to chin and cheeks, following his stubble over his mouth and then back up to his eyes again.  Walking was harder when he wasn't looking where he was going, so to steady himself, he wrapped a thin hand around Francis' arm.