Imagines with ed sheeran

It changed everything

The phone ringing woke me up. I looked at the alarm clock and saw it was four in the morning.

Wondering who was calling at this ungodly hour, I got out of bed, cursing myself for having left me cell so far from my bed last night.

Upon seeing the caller ID, I woke up almost instantly and answered.

"Ed? What's happening?"

"Can you come over? Or can I come over?" he asked, and the pain in his voice made my heart ache.

"I'll come over, I don't want you driving in such a state," I said.

"Thank you"

I hung up and grabbed some clothes, not caring about any fashion statement I might be making. I got to the living room, grabbed my keys and locked the house before leaving.

It took me ten minutes to get to his place. I got out of the car and went straight in. He was waiting for me in the corridor.

He looked terrible, like he was carrying a heavy and crushing burden. His eyes were red, and he had dark circles underneath. I didn't need to think twice and hugged him.

"I'm here, babe," I told him, the pet name rolling of my tongue naturally.
We may have broken up quite some time ago, we'd sometimes revert to calling each other with names we had used when we weretogether. Old habits died hard.

He hugged me closer, burying his face in my neck, in my hair, and breathing heavily as if trying to calm himself. I hugged him as close as I could, raised on the tip of my toes, hoping to convey in this hug all he needed to see and feel.

When he reluctantly let go of me, he kept my hand in his and led me to the living room. We sat on the couch, and I waited for him to say what was burdening him and causing him so much pain.

"My father had a heart attack last night," he finally said, looking at their linked hands.

"Oh Ed" I said, squeezing his hand. "How is he?"

"He's recovering right now, but they think he might need surgery, to prevent it from happening again."

"How is your mom doing?" I asked.

"She's holding up, being a rock as always, but I worry about her, I want to be here for her. But I can't..."

I hugged him again. I knew he couldn't get away from his commitments for the next couple of days: the new Dior campaign was going to be released, and he was expected to attend it. If it had been something related to a gig, he would have been able to ask to be freed, but the Dior house had been planning on this event for too long, and if he asked, they would probably show him a special clause he hadn't noticed before in his contract, binding him to them. They were not bad guys, but the millions they had injected in this event would make them quite unsympathetic.

I let go of him and he rested his head against mines.

"How about calling her? I'm sure you've already done it, but since you can't be there, you can call her several times a day, even if the doctors haven't said anything new yet, just to let her know that you're here for her?"I said

"She actually forbid me to come back to London, saying I had to do my job and she would keep informed, that she understood," he spat that word like it was poison, "that I can't get away. I don't want her to understand, I want to be there." He finished closing his eyes, his whole being radiating in pain.

"Your mom is a tough cookie, and we both know it. She is being strong, but I'm sure she would want you to be there. She just doesn't want you to feel guilty for not being able to come be with her."