Ed Sheeran One Shots

Bench

As I roll over onto my left, I drape my arm lazily over onto her side of the bed. I expect to feel her waist, but instead, I flop against the empty space beside me. Rubbing my eyes, I sit up sleepily. I glance at the clock. 

1:47am.

I stretch my arms above me, releasing the sleep from my muscles. I check my phone for messages. None. I check both bedside tables for a note. None. 

Clambering out of bed, I grab my pair of joggers and a hoodie that are draped over the chair by the dressing table, and quickly pull them on. I shove my phone and house keys in my pocket, slip on some shoes, not caring if they match, then leave the house.

The night is still. There is no breeze. There are no clouds. Just the silence of the night.  Street-lamps cast an eerie orange glow. I sigh, my breath is visible to me. A chill is in the autumn air. Then, I wander down the road. I know where to go. 

I pass down familiar streets, my feet leading the way without me having to think about it.

********

I reach where I know I need to be. I climb the grassy hill, my breath coming out in huffs at this unexpected workout at such an early time. But I have to reach the top. 

And when I do, I'm greeted by the all to familiar sight. 

"I thought I might find you here." 

She's sitting on the bench; Their bench. Her knees are pulled up to her chest. She's still in her pyjamas, one of my hoodies that she has adopted as her own wrapped around her. The hood is pulled up, wisps of hair falling out of the front. She's got her slippers on. 

I sit down next to her. I don't say anything more. I know why she's here. And I know there is nothing else I can do other than sit here with her. Hold her when she needs to be held. Console her when she needs to be consoled. Support her when she needs supporting. That is all I can do. 

We stare out across the view of the city in the distance. A orange hew hovering over it, like a dome. Light pollution. Illuminating a skyline that would be non-existent in darkness. She doesn't say anything. But the tears that are silently rolling down her cheeks say far more than what she could utter. I rest my hand on her knee, a gesture to let her know I'm here, although she already knows this after 7 years together. 

Within seconds, she's climbing into my lap, her face in her hands, trying to quieten the sobs that are about to erupt from her chest. I wrap my arms around her tightly, pulling her to my chest. To warm her from the cold of the night. To protect her from the sorrow. To muffle her sobs that she doesn't want the world to hear. 

Then she breaks. 

I feel her heart shatter. The tiny pieces falling out of her eyes in tears, and her mouth in cries. I can hear the pain in her voice as it cracks. I can feel the pain in her body as it shakes from the force of the cries that are leaving her. I can see the pain. It creeps its way into every part of her, taking over slowly, then all at once.  

I rest my chin on her hooded head, and rock her slowly, whispering to her.

"I'm here. I'm here."

"I love you. I've got you."

"It's ok. It's ok." This one is a lie. Nothing about the recent events is ok. Nothing.

********

I don't know how long we sat like that for. 

I don't care how long we sat there.

She needs to be here. 

"I'm sorry." Her utterance makes me jump. Her wounded whimpering quietened a while ago. Just the odd sniffle here and there.

"For what, sweetie?"

"For making you come here again." Her voice is quiet and hoarse. 

"You didn't make me. I chose to come here. I knew where you were. I could have waited until you came back. But that would be a dick move. I don't know what others think of me, but I don't consider myself to be a dick. So, I came. Like I always do. And always will."

She doesn't respond. Just buries her head deeper into my chest. I plant a kiss atop her head. 

"I miss them. I miss them so fucking much."

"I know." 

I dont know what else to say. What else can you say? 

"I want to go home." She looks up at me. "What's the use in them having a lovely view if we're blocking it by sitting here?" Unravelling from the foetal position she'd curled into, she stands, myself following quickly after. 

She bends down and picks up the two bunches of flowers, one spelling 'MUM" the other 'DAD'. I watch as she gently and carefully places them back onto the bench, making sure they're perfectly positioned. I don't help, knowing she has to do this herself. She steps back, taking a rugged breath in.

"There. Now they can enjoy the sunset, like they loved to do every Sunday." Her voice breaks. She looks at me, her eyes glazing over with tears. I open my arms, and she runs into them. She's silent, but I know she's crying again. I close my eyes, composing myself. If I cry too, theres no saving either of us. 

We stand there for a while. Embracing each other... More like holding each other together. I feel helpless. Just as helpless as I felt when she rung me 2 weeks ago. That awful day when the crash happened. When our world came tumbling down. The day when it felt like everything went into slow motion. 

Losing one parent is hard. But losing both in a split second is unimaginable.