Lost In Time (an Ed Sheeran fan-fiction)

Chapter 2: Sofa

Ed's P.O.V

I was walking down the dim lit streets of London, making my way to the local pub a couple blocks away from my flat. It seemed like a pretty normal cold night, until I walked up to the pub and saw something. I saw a girl. She was being held against the brick wall outside the pub, being grabbed by her neck, and being punched in the face.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING MAN!" I screamed at the horrible man doing these things to this poor girl. I pushed him on the ground and started punching him. Again. And again.

"Don't you dare touch her again!" I spat. I got up and checked the girls pulse. It was low, and she was laying there on the cold ground, looking so lifeless. Unconscious. I knelt down beside her. I put one of my arms under her knees, and lifted her up by her back, now carrying her bridal style back to my flat. Good thing it wasn't that far away. Not that she was heavy, because she was far from it.

I felt alittle bad thought because I had to set her back on the cold ground to rummage in my pocket and find the key. I unlocked the door and walked in. It's a good thing I had just cleaned yesterday. I set the girl down on the couch, and headed to the kitchen to get a frozen bag of peas for her fragile, bruised face. While she was unconscious, I took a good look at the girl. She had beautiful dark brown hair, and her cheeks were tear stained, and the left one was purple and bruised, and yet she still looked amazing. She had perfect light pink lips, she was beautiful. I could only wonder what her eyes looked like. I decided it was getting a little late, so I got a blanket and layed it down on the carpet floor next to the couch, where she was sleeping. I didn't want her to roll off and hurt her self, so I slept next to the couch. I guess that was just my little excuse for getting closer to her.

Maddison's P.O.V

I woke up and my head was throbbing. I had sat up quickly, not recognizing my surroundings. I was laying on a couch. Why? Where am I? I had to admit though it was a pretty nice house. Then someone walked into the same room as me. It was a man. He looked around my age, with firey orange hair, that went in all directions. But not in a messy way, more of a stylish way. He had crystal blue eyes, and they were mesmerizing. He is so....perfect. That's when he started to say something.

"Finally your awake. Are you alright love?" He said sympathetically. He had a think British accent, which I should expect because im in London. "Im fine. Umm where am I?" I said curiously. He then looked a bit shy. And nervous? He lightly scratched the back of his neck.

"Umm, your kinda in my flat." He said a bit nervously. What the heck is a flat?

"Flat?" I asked. Honestly, Im confused. He chuckled lightly.

"You must not be from around here. Well that explains the American accent." He gave me a warm smile, and continued. "Flat means house. Your in my house." Oh. Well that makes more sense. "Oh." I said, sounding alittle more displeased than I would have liked. He sighed.

"So your ugh, probably wondering why you are in my house." I smiled, and he spoke again. "Do you remember anything that happened last night?" Oh my gosh. Did we do...that? No. I wouldnt be on the couch if that happened, I don't think.

"No, it's all pretty much a blurr." I managed to say, as my head was still hurting. He sat down next to me and placed his hand on my knee.

"Well, I was walking to the pub to have a drink but when I got there, I saw you, being held up by your neck against the wall, and being hit in the face. You were unconscious, so I kinda carried you back to my house." He said, choking on a few words, then he continued. "Who was that guy? Why was he even hitting you! No girl deserves to be treated like that!" He said, his face red full of anger. But I could tell he wasn't mad at me.

"That was m-my ex boyfriend." I choked out. He scooted closer and held my hands. "Why was he hitting you?" He said, looking even more sympathetic than before.