george ezra imagines - HIATUS

blame it on me

"you'll be fine, my love. we're almost home.."

"i can't, i can't walk on it."

"yeah george, hence why i'm basically carrying you."

"how am i meant to play isle of wight tomorrow?"

"sitting down."

*ten minutes before*
you and george had decided to take action on your fitness and go on a run together. you got about a mile away from home, you were slightly ahead of george until you heard a pain-filled shout come from behind. george was sat on the floor, face filled with agony, clutching his foot.

"what happened?!"

you called out, running to him.

"well it's not my fault. my ankle rolled and now i can't move it."

"i didn't blame you."

"just help me get home, please?"