A Thousand Tiny Wishes // Ed Sheeran

Chapter Six - Touch and Go

Ed's POV

I couldn't stop thinking about her. I couldn't stop thinking about the feel of her hands on me or the way her lips press soft to mine. I knew I couldn't move on from something I hadn't even let go of yet, but it seemed obvious to me that if I continued to dwell on her and what we had before I left, I wouldn't go anywhere but down.

I left her with a necklace, and as insignificant as it might seem, I knew it gave her something to remember me by. It wasn't that I assumed I'd never see her again, but sitting on the bus, a daunting, sinking feeling came over me that things just wouldn't be the same.

Even so, I couldn't put off leaving anymore. I couldn't stand to hear another argument, especially when I was the fuel to my parents' fire. They'd play the blame game at least once a week over me, my mother shouting at my father because he pushed me too hard, and him screaming back at her, saying she shouldn't have coddled me so much.

The night I left for good, I stuffed my green Element bag full to the brim with what clothes I could fit, slung it over my right shoulder and grabbed my guitar. It got to the point where I was so desperate to leave that I didn't care if either of my parents knew it, but even so, I figured leaving without argument would be best, so I held off until almost one in the morning when I knew my mother would be asleep, and at least hoping my dad would be, too.

As my luck would have it, he was sat at the kitchen table, still as stone under the light with a near empty bottle of Jack in front of him. The side of his face rested against the back of his hand, and I as much as I wanted to laugh at how pathetic he looked, I didn't dare risk waking him up. It wasn't the first time he drank himself to sleep in that same spot, and thanks to the many years of tiptoeing past him, I knew if I was quiet enough, I could slip by him unnoticed with little effort.

It felt as if I were a child playing a game of hide and seek, creeping around the house to not draw attention to myself, and the same heavy feeling filled my stomach while I stepped over the threshold between the hallway and the kitchen, keeping my eyes on my father slumped over in his seat like a sack of potatoes.

Another step forward and the wooden floor creaked under my weight, the chair he was in squeaking under him when he stirred from the noise. I waited for silence without moving my foot another inch, his eyes catching me when they bobbed open. Mine stayed fixed on him as he lifted his head and glanced at the time, it seeming to stand still when he brought his gaze to me.

"Where do you think you're going?" he groaned, trying to mask the sleep in his voice with anger while he pushed up out of the chair.

I didn't answer. I didn't move. I stood in silence waiting for him to think I was some sort of mirage in his drunken state before I even attempted to take a breath. Of course he awaited some sort of response from me, and I swallowed back the nerves, standing my ground before opening my mouth.

"We both know this is what has to happen," I told him, keeping my eyes on him while he took an uneven step toward me, the bottle clutched in his left hand when he stood.

"What? You think you're just going to leave and make it big overnight?" he asked me, bringing the bottle to his lips to finish it off.

The slur in his words made fire spread in my chest, and as much as I wanted to tell him off, I didn't, knowing I'd much rather leave the easy way.

"I don't want to fight," I continued, adjusting my bag against my shoulder, "so just let me go and we can pretend you didn't see me."

Without another word I walked forward, only just making it past the kitchen when he grabbed the back of my bag and slammed me into the nearest wall. The bottle fell from his hand, glass shattering at our feet as I dropped my guitar to brace myself with my palms flat, the side of my face pressed to the cool drywall. I pushed off with my hands and he spun me, slamming my back against it, my bag being the only thing protecting my spine from the plaster. He clutched the front of my hoodie and for a split second I considered bringing my knee up to fend him off, but I couldn't do it.