Don't//Ed Sheeran Oneshot

Closer

It wasn't at all like either of us had planned.

When I saw Ed come back from upstairs, he had his chin nearly dropped to his chest, fists clenched tight and he pulled at his hair, huffing past me outdoors, straight out of the lounge and hotel altogether, to the parking lot. He grabbed his leather jacket as he walked out the door, and I made quick work of retrieving my hoodie from the bar counter.

"Ed? Ed, wait up."

Ed didn't wait up. He kept walking, and then broke into a half-run, keys gripped in his white knuckles. He stopped at the motorcycle he'd come on, getting on it and attempting to start it.

"Ed!" My voice was hoarse, and I silently thanked God I wasn't wearing high heels like Her, and instead had settled for those sneakers. "Ed, don't."

He looked up at me as I neared him, the coughing of the motor drowning out my words, but it was still audible.

His eyes were red and so was his right cheek, and they were glazed over with hurt and tipsiness. His face made my breath go ragged, it was so pained and I wanted nothing more than to fix him.

He looked from me to the handlebars, eyes squinting as he realized that She had the only helmet; he'd let her wear it instead of him on the ride over. He'd done nothing but love, and try to protect her, but now she was the reason he himself needed protection.

"You can't drive like this," I said, as he looked down to where his feet were resting on either side, swaying from alcohol.

"I know," he said, "I know, ok," and his voice cracked at the end, as he let his head drop forward to the handlebars, leather jacket taught against his back so I could see every muscle move with the motion. I could see his back rise and fall with every breath as he willed himself to calm down, hold it together, but I knew he wasn't going to be able to.

"What happened?" I asked, standing awkwardly as he looked up from the crook of his arm on the handlebar, meeting my eyes brokenly.

"She cheated, Lauren, she fucking cheated," my mouth fell open as his eyes burned into mine, tear tracks shiny at the edges. "I went up to our room to see if she was doing okay because of when she had a headache earlier, and she had-" his breath caught, the engine settling into a quiet sort of hum as it got running, "She had Shane in the room. Our own fucking room. She didn't even have the decency to take him to another floor."

With that, I felt the world and my heart shatter down around me, the pieces lodged in my skin. He'd been betrayed by two people, one of which he had given his everything to, the other that he'd trusted on just his word, the unspoken common sense that you don't sleep around with your friend's girlfriend.

I didn't know what to do except clumsily seat myself behind him on the bike, weakly wrapping my arms around his middle, which made him stiffen, clearly reminded of the means by which he'd gotten to the hotel with Her, when everything was seemingly ok. He relaxed as he remembered it was me though, his best friend through everything.

I leant my cheek against his solid back, as he turned his face, looking at the hotel, up to the seventh floor window, curtains drawn shut, and it made me too sick to see the pain in his eyes as he watched the shadows. I squeezed him around his middle and looked away, hoping he would do the same, but he looked for a good while before he spoke, a rasp low over the motor.

"I trusted her," he said, "and Shane was my mate for fuck's sake, and I don't know what I did wrong."

"It's not your fault," I countered, my forehead pressed to the musky leather and the burgundy shirt beneath it. "You deserve better." And I wanted to tell him so much that I could be the better, but I didn't want to upset him further.