Idol (An Ed Sheeran Fanfic)

14

"What's it like being on tour all the time?" I asked and laid down on the bed in his hotel room. This room was a lot nicer than what I would expect from a hotel in this area; everything looked clean, and the bed was really comfortable.

"What do you mean?" He replied and took a deep breath. He was laying down next to me and we were both staring at the white ceiling. The ceiling fan was turning round and round, causing a slight draft.

"How do you stand being away all the time? I felt so disconnected when I was on tour," I responded. I could hear him shift uncomfortably, but the only other sound was the gentle creaking of the fan overhead.

We both still had our coats and shoes on, both collapsing on the bed as soon as we got in here. I was getting a little warm, but I couldn't ruin this moment by moving.

"Yeah, you do feel disconnected. At times, that's why I crave touring-it's like an escape from the real world; you're too busy touring to focus on anything else," he gulped; there was a lot of pain in his voice.

I propped up on my elbow so I could look at him. The way that the light from the lamp next to him gently illuminated his face was breathtaking. Even though he looked beautiful, you could clearly see how upset he was.

"Why would you ever want to escape?" I asked even though I know I'm pushing him.

His expression didn't change, and he kept looking at the ceiling.

"Why did you tour here for so long? It's so far from England, and there must be a reason for that."

There was a silence before he spoke, "There was just a lot going on before I scheduled this tour: Alice and I had a huge fight, my parents said somethings that they probably shouldn't have; I just wanted to get away, far away."

Was that why everyone did this? Did everyone in this industry just want to get away from the problems that they have at home? That has to be true, Ed can't be the only one that does it. People say that everyone in the music industry are "workaholics", but maybe there is a reason behind that. Most people have a story behind how they got started in the industry-how music was there escape. What if it still is now?

"Music was always my escape, too," I smiled slightly and looked at the white bed sheets. "Whenever my parents would yell at me, or I would have a fight with a friend, I would write a song about it. Of course, I'll never release those songs-or perform them live-but it's like therapy for me, in a way."

He looked up at me with a surprised look on his face. "Me too, honestly. It really is therapeutic, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it always feels good to just let the feelings out," I blushed.

I expected him to go back to looking at the ceiling, but he continued to look at me, and I kept studying him. His porcelain skin really contrasted with the blue of his eyes and the birthmark next to his eye. The sides of his hair were all matted, and the top was sticking straight up.

"Why did you come here all out of the sudden? By here I mean Michigan," I asked.

"I missed you, I know that I can talk to you about anything and you seem to just get it," he explained.

I huffed. "So you just got on a plane and came here?" I shook my head but smiled.

"Well...Yeah, I guess you can say that. This week has been shit and I knew you would make me feel better," Ed shrugged.

Then it came to me: he is broken and I need to fix him; he came to me so I could fix him. I scooted over close to him, and connected our lips.

At first I could tell he was surprised, but after a second I could feel his hand on my back through my coat. My hand rested on his chest. When I broke the kiss, he immediately tried to reconnect our lips-and I let him. However, I could really feel the butterflies in my stomach when he started to pull down the zipper on my coat.

"Ed," I said against his lips when the zipper was halfway down. He continued kissing me. Finally, when I pulled away from him, he stopped.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered and blushed. When he blushed, even his ears turned red.

"No, I want to, just let me get my shoes and everything else off," I reassured him and got off the bed.

He looked surprised, then followed me off the bed and started unzipping his coat. "Are you sure? We don't have to if you don't want to." He glanced at me. We were standing on opposite sides of the room, both taking off our coats and shoes. I decided to put my stuff on the couch that was on the other side of the room, and Ed put his stuff on the dresser.

"Ed, I'm not afraid of sex. What do you think a bunch of teenagers do when it's -12 degrees out and there's so much snow you can't go anywhere?"

He chuckled and replied, "I guess England and America aren't as different as I thought."

I took a deep breath and walked over to him. Ed was standing there folding his coat, but I could tell he was just waiting for me. When I got up to him, I gulped and he turned around, then connected our lips again. He gripped my hips, and I could feel him starting to back up towards the bed.

My hands rested on his shoulders and our lips moved in synchronization. There are still butterflies in my stomach-and I can't tell if they are nervous or excited. Then he stopped; we were at the end of the bed. I sat down and moved to the top of it, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. Once I was at the top, he came and sat down in front of me; we were both breathing heavily.

"You're glad you came here, aren't you?" I teased him.

He smiled, and kissed me again, pushing me into the mattress.