insomniacsleepwalker

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Normal (Part 1)- An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction

Before

The day starts off differently than usual. For starters, there is a sense of un-reality to it, as though it has been a dream for too long for it to be real, so waking up and proceeding with a morning routine like any other day feels like I am lying about something. I never did plan out the details of what I would do on the morning of. I suppose I never saw the point of over planning given that at that point, it was simply wishful thinking. But alas, here I am, making coffee for myself on the morning of setting out on tour. My movements are also quite hurried as I go through my morning like I would with any other, even though I am not running late, nor am I doing anything out of the ordinary so far, there is a jump in my step and a fidget to my excitement that I can only chalk away as the staple mixture of excitement and nervousnes.

There is a text from him waiting on my phone when I go to pick it up to go through it as I sip my morning coffee.

Ed Fucking Sheeran: Hope you’re all set for tour! Drinks on me after tonight’s show!

I can’t help but smile as I text back: Yep all set! Looking forward to it!

There are other messages and emails, mostly pertaining to admin things such as setting up skype meetings with other clients and some agents reaching out with debut pieces. I have to put my phone down for a moment as I lean back, close my eyes, take deep breaths and remind myself that I still have a job to do and that part of the deal with Clara was to manage my other projects along with this one and under no circumstances am I to forget that. The thought does clench at my appetite rendering to nothing more than a bowl of fruit. Knowing my response to the thought of added responsibility, and so to keep myself sane I pretend that it is any other day.

The pretending does get a tad bit more difficult when I have to wheel my suitcase out of my flat, double check the locks and walk into the office all set for travel with my colleagues eyeing me with looks of either envy or curiousity or in a few cases like I am a zoo animal of sorts. I get it. It is a big deal and nobody was expecting me to get the project, including myself, and given the circumstances (some might say the cost, while others would call it perks), of getting a big client is not met with the usual response of celebration. There is one pair of dark eyes which exude nothing but pride, and ones that approach me as I wheel the giant suitcase into my office.

“Today’s the day, then?” Jemimah, or as she likes to be called, Jed, squeaks excitedly as she follows me in.

“Yep, from the looks of it you would think that I was going on a year long holiday to Cancun.” I say.

I take a seat behind my desk and Jed follows, opting to lean her weight on the desk instead of sitting down.

“Don’t mind them,” She says, “They’re just jealous.”

“Should I tell them that I still have to manage all the our other authors at the same time?”

“It might help.” She concedes.

“Christ, I’m bricking myself.” I say, putting my elbows on the desk, “It’s the biggest risk I’ve ever taken.”

“Didn’t you quit being a doctor?” She asks.

I consider this for a moment.

“Nope, this is definitely scarier.”

She laughs and comes up behind me to give me a tight hug. I reciprocate by holding on to her forearm.

“You will be fine.” She says, “Storytelling is in your bones and I have seen you take the most abysmal plots and the sloppiest writing and turn them into best sellers! This guy actually writes for a living!”

“Songs.” I mumble.

“He tells his stories,” she continues, “and he does it well and I am sure that you both will be able to create a masterpiece with his words and your eye for structure. Plus, it’s Ed Sheeran. He could spit on a napkin and that would sell. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about the selling,” I say, breaking away from the hug, “I’m a fiction editor. This is super non-fiction. I am way out of my depth.”

“You have me and a team of other editors a phone call away!”

I throw her a look.

“You have me!” She says after a moment, eliciting a laugh out of me.

“Everything will work out great,” she continues, “you’re going to become a celebrity editor, Clara will promote you, maybe give you your own imprint! You’ll introduce me to your famous friends, we’ll get married and have kids and everything is going to be great!”

I laugh again and we continue to talk about our respective clients and different storylines that we have to balance to make sure that one does not accidently leak into another. Jed is one of the most talented Non-fiction editors out there, and the fact that I have her in my corner gives me some relief. It has occurred to me that perhaps she would be better suited to the project and given that she has no prior connection to Ed, she wouldn’t be getting served as dirty the looks as I am.

“Don’t you have Tom coming in today?” She asks out of nowhere, possibly trying to distract me from my own mind.

“Oh yes!” I say, accepting the distraction as a welcome one, “We have to discuss his recent pages.”

“You don’t like them?”

“He doesn’t.”

“Ah.” She has a knowing look, which I can recognise from a mile away.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she shrugs, “Just a really hot author is looking for an excuse to hang out with you, but other than that...”

I roll my eyes.

“I don’t-“ I begin to groan.

“Sleep with clients!” She cuts me off, “I’m painfully aware, but he isn’t going to be a client when you’re done editing!”

I look at her with a raised eyebrow and she groans in frustration, beginning to make her way out of my office. She reaches the door and pauses suddenly.

“You do find him hot, though, right?”

“Oh definitely.” I answer, quite honestly.

She smiles and raises her eyebrows at me before skipping away. I giggle at her childishness, but can’t help but wonder whether what she is insinuating is true or not. As attractive and flirtatious as Tom is, he doesn’t strike me as the kind who sleeps with a colleague. Not that it matters, since I have no time. It might be a good distraction though.

My phone buzzes again. Another text from Ed:

Ed Fucking Sheeran: Cold Feet?

I furrow my brows.

Me: Who told you?

Ed Fucking Sheeran: You’ve been quiet for a while. Would’ve had about thirty different texts from you by now if you weren’t nervous.

I sigh.

Ed Fucking Sheeran: Wot’s there to be nervous about?!

Me: I’ve been getting dirty looks all morning. And what did we say about spelling?

Ed Fucking Sheeran: Fuck ‘em.

Ed Fucking Sheeran: Sorry, fornicate them.

I giggle again and let myself feel a little more relaxed. This will be good, I tell myself. A new beginning out of my comfort zone and even if it isn’t good, at least I’ll still have Ed.

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Honestly That sucked

Not my best work, but I wanted to get something out. Plus quite a few people wanted me to continue it so...

Have a good Christmas y’all!

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Knock On The Door (A continuation)

It wasn’t like I had planned this. Honestly, opening the door would have been much easier if I had. But alas, my naivity hath brought me here, broken and pathetic. Another knock sounds and I can’t get my eyes to stop overflowing with tears. Every time I wipe them away, new ones take their place and it makes it so much harder to see or concentrate or just think. And yet my brain replays his words like a broken tape record.

She means nothing.

She never has.

“Rae?” His voice cuts clean through me, “you in there?”

I don’t know what to do now. I don’t even know how to feel. I can’t tell if he meant it or if it was just desperation talking. He must have meant it otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. That must be what he thinks of me on some subconscious level if he still manages to convince himself that his relationship has turned into a pile of toxic mush.

“Yeah, come in.” My voice croaks.

I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. But I am leaving, so might as well get it done. I turn away when I hear the door close behind him. My body enters an autopilot mode, picking up papers that were meant to be drafts for the next tour update, tearing them apart and binning them. My blood immediately drops down into my legs the second he comes into the room, but I don’t turn around.

“Hey.” He whispers, sounding broken down to the last bone.

Usually he doesn’t have to say much because I fill in the blanks. Most days, he doesn’t say anything at all. Instead he sits down next to me, I bring him tea that remains untouched, hold his hand, sometimes pull him into a hug if I think he needs it and wait for him to let it all out. He’s the nicest, most talented person with the most beautiful soul and all he deserves is happiness, which is what is all I can think about when I’m holding him, or listening to him ranting away. And that’s not there anymore. All that is there is this burning in my chest.

“What do you need?” I ask as cold as I can manage, which is not a lot when my voice is croaking and giving away the fact that it is difficult to stand here in his presence and pretend that that I didn’t hear what he just said.

“Um, I-“ He clears his throat to hide the fact that he’s holding back tears, “Is this a bad time?”

“Nope.” I say punching wads of paper down to the bottom of the bin, “I was actually just coming in to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go back home.” A stray tear escapes and falls into the bin and I swipe it away.

“What?” He actually sounds surprised, the bastard, “what do you mean? Like you’re taking a few days off?”

“I’m taking all the days off.” I say, still turned away from him, still pacing around, picking up things without knowing where they actually go.

“What? Why? I mean-“ Clears his throat again, “Did something happen? Do you need-?”

“I don’t need anything,” I cut him off, “You’ve done enough for me and, um, yeah I’m grateful but I think it’s time I come back down to earth.”

“What are you talking about? Rae! Would you stop and talk to me for a second!”

I don’t stop though. Piling on clothes into my bags, not bothering to fold them. I don’t hear him come up behind me. Maybe my breathing has become too coarse to hear anything over, that and the sound of my thumping uncontrollably. His hand is on my arm and his grip is tight enough to elicit pain.

“Get. Your. Hand. Off.” I mutter through my teeth. I can feel my blood boil beneath my skin, my nails are digging into my palm, the longer I stand here in his presence, the more lethal my tone seems to get.

He quickly takes his hands off and I turn around to see his pleading eyes. They almost break me. But I’ve seen this before. Who knows how many times he’s made these eyes at me and I’ve melted into the palm of his hand. Fuck.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “Rae, just tell me what’s going on? What is this all about?”

“It’s about me, Ed.” Tears spill again and he steps forward to comfort me but I hold a hand up to keep him away. “I’m done being the tissue for you to wipe your fucking snot on.”

“Wait a second- that’s what this is about?!” He’s yelling again and the tone isn’t far off an excuse for me to clock him right now.

“I told you that this is about me!” I yell right back, continuing to shove my shit in bag, not quite bothering with checking what’s already in there.

“Fine! You don’t want me to come to you about her? I won’t! You don’t have to leave the tour because of it!”

“You can find another blogger.”

“That’s what you think this is about?!”

“Of COURSE that’s what I think this is about! Why else would you be here making that face?! Besides, when have I ever meant anything to you, huh?”

It takes him a second, but then his eyes widen with realisation and dread.

“Rae, listen-“

“Fuck. Off.” I mutter again, “fuck right off! I’m done listening. I have heard enough! Being talented and being fucking sad does not give you license to be a fucking jackass! And you know what? I hope you sort things out with her! You deserve each other!”

He takes it all like a man and I’ve definitely hit a nerve. His eyes aren’t just pleading anymore. They’re begging. He’s crying and it isn’t pretty. This right here? This feeling? I’m going to go ahead and put this feeling in my bottom three. I feel cruel and disgusting and I want to apologise but I know if I apologise I’ll end up staying and that’s a feeling that’s worse than this one. So I zip up my bag put it on the bit space that’s between us. The thud it makes is probably less harsh than it sounds in this moment and it makes him visibly flinch.

I sigh, about to say something, about to apologise, but I stop myself.

He doesn’t though, “Rae if I could just explain...”

I don’t respond. I don’t even stop. I just continue to wheel my bag out of the room. The door slams shut and I let go. I feel my face crumple as raw emotion takes over and my mind goes void of any other thought other than of the bitter numbness running through my blood. I don’t remember getting out of the hotel, or getting into the cab, or walking into the airport. I barely remember taking my phone out of my pocket and hitting decline on all the calls.

All I remember is that it hurt.

I remember not wanting to remember.

And snot. There was a lot of that. I had to wipe a lot of it on my sweater sleeve. It was gross. But then again pain is never pretty.

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Whaaa?

Just starting writing fan fiction again?! Whaaa that’s crazy! Anyway, hope you like it!

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Normal (Prologue)- An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction.

It feels weird. Not like ‘I ate something funny’ weird, but more like ‘where do we go from here’ weird. Because where do we go from here. I could have not said it, but also I couldn’t have not said it. But he’s avoiding me now and while I want him to have his space, I miss the red headed bastard. I mean it’s not like I asked him to reciprocate, but he’s sitting across the lobby from me like I told him that I would take out my uterus if he didn’t like me back or something. And I didn’t mean to cause any discomfort, I just wanted to be honest!

I sigh and bring my eyes back to the book I’ve been trying to get through for the past month and a half but haven’t really gotten through the first couple of pages because every time I’ve tried to read through them, I’ve been too distracted by him just being in the same room as me and my heart doing its fluttering thing and my stomach doing its thing that it does of climbing into my throat, when my body is erupting with goosebumps from the sheer excitement of just having him in close vicinity to actually concentrate on the words. Fuck me, I’m still not reading the damn book. I still keep my eyes on it though, hoping that this time, just forcing myself to stare at the page for long enough would make any sort of difference and that maybe my brain will finally recognise just how wrong this attraction towards this man actually is and just move on... But so far no such luck. I see someone, in my peripheral vision, come and stand in front of me and pretending to actually read the book, I take a moment to mark my page (page number 4), and look up to see Stuart standing there with pity eyes. I roll mine as he comes and sits down next to me on the fancy hotel couch.

“He’s just processing it is all,” he says, “he’ll come around.”

“Really?” I raise an eyebrow at him, “‘cause right now he’s being a giant baby about it.”

Stuart chuckles, “You know him. He takes his time with stuff like this.”

“Yeah but it’s not like I asked him to marry me!” I groan.

“Yeah but you’ve gotta admit that it’s pretty out of the blue,” he says. “I mean you don’t just tell someone that you’re in love with them and expect them to react any different.”

I roll my eyes again and mumble, “You don’t expect them to treat you like a stranger either.”

“Wouldn’t you, though?” He asks, “He’s never seen you like that before, you know, romantically, and all of a sudden, there you are, proclaiming your love for him and everything. I mean I’m surprised he didn’t go into shock!”

“He did go into shock,” I tell him. “And he’s still in shock. That’s why he’s not saying anything.”

“Well you’ve got to give him his space,” Stuart tells me. “He doesn’t take these things lightly, so you’ve got to let him spiral and talk to you when he’s ready.”

I groan again, “I know. I just... I miss him.”

“Yeah... that probably sucks.”

“You’re so fucking supportive, you know that?” I quip.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you to go proclaiming your love all over the place.”

“You didn’t tell me to not to either.” I say.

He breathes out a laugh through his nose as he gets up, “come on, we’re heading off.”

I was really hoping to have been normal by this point because the only fun thing about touring the country in a van was supposed to be hanging out with Ed. And Stuart is right, this does absolutely suck... and also about the space thing but mostly that it sucks. I put my book back in my bag and walk over them as they get up to make a move on.

Ed throws me a quick smile with no eye contact and just walks on ahead. And it isn’t a smile really, because his proper smile brightens the room and my mood but what he gives me is like a pursing of the lips that does nothing for the lighting of the room and fuck all for my mood. Actually it makes my mood worse. Stuart throws me a quick knowing look and follows Ed, leaving me drag my feet behind them.

Ed’s already in there looking out the window when I climb into the van. Stuart and Kev are in the back shoving suitcases in boot, so it’s just me and him for now. I try not to look at him as I take the seat that’s as far away from him as it could be. I fail though, letting my eyes flit in his general direction once I’ve sat down, and he’s somehow tried to scooch further in the opposite direction, and MY GOD. I’m about say something, and it’s probably not going to be pretty because this behaviour right here, this is absolutely ridiculous and we need to talk about this like adults and get it done with and right as I open my mouth, Stuart jumps in the back taking the seat right in front of me. He doesn’t say anything, neither does Ed, so we all just sit there in the silence that doesn’t smell like it but definitely feels like the fart ripping through the devil’s butthole.

So I opt out of it and just sit there with my stomach and my heart doing their thing that they do when Ed’s around, except it feels wrong now. And I say nothing. I pull out my book and I stare at the pages some more. Kev gets in the front and the door slams, the sound of all hope being lost, and the whole time all I can think about is what if this is it. This is the way things are going to be from now on.

This is what it is now.

The new normal.

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Masterlist

Just in case all of that scrolling was getting annoying 😋

Apparel (Ed Sheeran Fanfiction)

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Knock On the Door (An Ed Sheeran One Shot)

The Sky’s Embrace (A Thomas Brodie-Sangster Fanfiction)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Nervous (A Thomas Brodie-Sangster Fanfiction)

Part 1

Part 2

Epilogue

Pleasant (A Thomas Brodie-Sangster Blurb - My First Ever Imagine!!!)

A Guide to One Night Stands (A Robbie Kay Fanfiction)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Heyo!

So that is actually the end of Apparel! Yay!!

I started that story before I went to uni, guys... I have no finished my second year of uni. Those were a few rocky years, but we finally finished the story! Woo!

Hope you guys like it and keep spreading the love!

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Apparel(Part 11)- An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction.

I have never understood the phrase, 'have faith'. It's simple in its explanation, it's the carrying out of it all that baffles me. To just trust that everything will be fine makes everything fine? How does that happen? Who decides when it gets okay? When I was a kid, she always told me to have faith. She was religious like that. I believed her till the day she died because it wasn't okay for her, was it? It just became worse and worse until she called an out. See, she didn't even leave a note, so I knew that it was a spur of the moment decision. So blinded by sadness that faith had no more room. I haven't been much of a stranger to that sadness, and it's a goddamned wonder that I haven't done what she did though sometimes I feel myself inching just a tiny bit closer to that place, but something always pulls me away. I don't want to die... but that doesn't change the fact that I don't particularly want to live either, so I've kind of been stuck in this limbo where I simply exist as a husk of a human being, dragging my sadness around everywhere.

I've gotten good at the whole charade. I can now exist and keep up the apparel that I'm a functioning human being, one that lives in this reality. But then it changed. I changed. I didn't realize it but I was living and not only living, I was living for something; for someone. I almost actually started believing in things being okay again. And another cruel twist of fate took that away from me. Actually, funnily enough, I don't blame fate on this one, though I am tempted to. It was me this time; so scared to live and so comfortable with simply existing, I pushed the one thing away that was helping me breathe.

All of this is rings loud like church bells on Christmas Eve in my head, but it's never in quite so many words. See, it's all a feeling, like deeply embedded in my chest, which I know what it is, but am never able to explain out loud. When Ed comes up beside me and my blood rushes down my legs, I feel it again and I want to tell him all about it, yell it to him till my throat becomes sore but there are no words. Just my chest swirling the feeling in my ribs like tasting it, appreciating its bouquet of pain.

"Jesus, that is beautiful..." Ed says.

I haven't been able to turn to look at him yet, but I catch a flame of red in the corner of my eye. My hands are gripping the railing tight enough to crush it if I had the strength, but that's the whole problem, you see, I lack the fucking strength. I'm shaking now, pretty sure I'm hyperventilating, but quietly. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel, but my body falls into the usual routine of fight or flight, the latter of which I have mastered up to a fault. And I want to tell him about it, despite months of silence, the first thing I can think of to say to him is about the phenomenon of my body in fight-or-flight mode.

I release a palm from the railing, and offer my wrist to him. I see him turn his head towards me in question, but I stare straight ahead, too afraid to see the pain that I may have caused, or even worse the pain I didn't cause. I don't want to acknowledge it so I dismiss that spec of thought about not making a single mark on him with my absence because that would make me a sadist bitch who finds comfort in the pain of others.

"Feel my pulse." I tell him without looking at him.

I can feel the confusion radiating off him, but the only way I can see a somewhat clear path into opening the conversation is just ripping the veil off. His fingers are cold when he presses them to my pulse point and the sensation makes me shiver a little, but nonetheless, he remains still and quiet, feeling my heart race like it's trying to win a marathon while I watch the water, hoping for, I don't know, waking up next him in that studio away from all this sadness and anxiety? It's a long shot but if it happens, I have thought of ten million other things I would say and do than the ones I said and did.

"Christ," he says a moment later, erasing the possibility of this being a dream, "are you okay?"

Now that actually makes me do something unexpected. See, for a while now it has seemed like my body runs on an autopilot mode, or just a different pilot mode, different to my own will and mind. It responds to situations differently than how I actually want to respond to them, mostly because how I want to respond to them is mostly to breakdown and give up, but my body works in a robotic, scheduled way, going on regardless of the mayhem going on in the skull area. So, while I want to respond to his question with tears and sobs, my body actually erupts into hysterical giggles. I am actually laughing at his question. Yeah, I have descended completely into madness. I'm still crying, though. Tears are running down my face while I'm chuckling and I suppose this the equivalent of what happens of a bodily malfunctioning in response to not knowing whether it is sadness of relief prevailing that the one true love of my life is actually here and he's asking me if I am okay.

"I am the furthest from okay than you could imagine me, Ed" I cry, "God, this is not funny and I'm fucking laughi- I fucking miss you, Ed! And I don't know, I didn't think I could feel worse pain than I did after my mom and now it's like- it's like I don't want to wake up to face reality anymore, or just, I don't know, forget? Fuck, okay, no, I am not at all okay..."

I finally turn to look at him, and it sends another wave of warmth down my legs. It's a wonder how I'm still standing upright. At least the laughing has stopped. Now I'm just crying. He looks different than I remember him. The smile's missing for one, and it's not a mop as much as a mane of red, and the beard; he hasn't shaved in a while. His fingers are still pressed on my wrist, and we're finally just looking at each other. I am a blubbering, anxious mess and I can't remember recognizing this me that is here now. Has it been here this whole time? Is this the real me that I've been hiding from myself because this me scares the living shit out of me? The me that I've been running from? Or is this me new in town?

"Why'd you leave?" Ed asks, his fingers leaving my skin.

"I couldn't-" I couldn't breathe, properly. Jesus, get a grip over yourself! I took a deep breath, waited for the hiccups to fade and the tears to slow down so I could explain myself without half of my explanation being snot, "I couldn't do it."

"Do what?" He asks, "Be around the pisstake of a father?"

"No, not that, I- Fuck, this is- I couldn't keep hurting you!" I say out loud, which when I hear it, sounds like the stupidest words to have ever left my mouth.

He's quiet for a moment, looking out at the view, letting it sink in, so not really looking at the view. I can't take my eyes off him now. His jaw is hardened, and his breathing has definitely hitched. The anger is coming, it's clear, but when he bursts out, I'm still not expecting it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He yells, making me flinch, "That is what you're going to go with? Are you actually fucking joking? That is utter bullshit, Hitch!"

I let him yell though, because he deserves to yell and I deserve much worse than just yelling.

"I know," I tell him, trying to remain calm but feeling my eyes beginning to prick with another onset of tears, "but I saw that-"

"Saw what?" He cuts in, "That you were being vulnerable? That I actually cared about you? But of course that scared you, because you just assume the worst in people, don't you!"

"Okay, listen, I know you're angry-" I start to explain.

"I am more than angry, Hitch! I'm fucking crushed!" Ed yells again. I have never seen him so angry.

"I know," I try again, "I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? Really?" Okay, now he's just being childish.

"Yes, let me-" I try to get a word in.

"I would've come with you, you know?" He cuts in again, "You just needed to ask! But opening up is just so-"

"WOULD YOU LET ME SPEAK?!" I yell out. I don't know where it comes from but it feels good to yell. Actually to be angry at all of this, “I saw what was happening right in front of my eyes. You would have taken the fall for me and I couldn’t see you do that, because me and all my shit are not worth all that you have worked for and the happiness you could have with someone who doesn’t make you give up your dream! How could I let the only person who made me so happy be so sad?”

He becomes quiet again and this time his eyes are planted dead on me, his face is still angry but his eyes hold a terrible sadness and I can tell that he is torn inside. It’s so fucking awful, but despite it all, I want him to forgive me. I want us to move on and move back to London where we can just be us. If there is anything I have ever wished for that might actually come true, I want it to be this, regardless of how stupidly, day-dreamingly mad it sounds, it is all I want. 

“What do I do now?” He asks, “I can’t leave you because I have idiotically fallen in love with you, and I can’t trust you because you fucking ran, Hitch. Even when I was sure that you wouldn’t run without me... fuck, what do I do?”

He looks away and into the horizon and this time I’m the one silences by his question. I wonder if it would just be ludicrous to forget this, like, forget all of it; the past months, me running, Robert and everything else that is silly bullshit that really shouldn’t have mattered in the first place but they did because I let them. I wonder if it would be just mad if we became the people the other knew and fell in love with because we never actually changed, but right now we can’t really see much other than the silly bullshit. 

“Jeez, Louise,” I say, “When did you become a reality TV star?”

He chuckles. He actually chuckles. The sound that makes my heart beat quicker but in a good way. For the first time in a long time, no matter how cheesy it’s going to sound, I feel lighter. Like life is more a field of daffodils and less dungeons and graveyards. It’s a good feeling. It’s the feeling I was looking out for, so maybe that’s why I didn’t do what she did the first chance I got. 

“I don’t know,” I tell him, stepping closer to him, “I’m sorry but I don’t know. I wish I knew, but I don’t. I thought- I thought I knew you, knew what you wanted. I thought me out of your life is what you wanted- you know, once all the shit with Robert had gone down and when it came down to it, I thought you-” It’s hard to to explain what I mean, when what I mean is that I assumed that he would recognize all my baggage wasn’t worth dealing with so I cut the crap out of the middle and ran for it. It’s hard to convey this to him when he is standing here, clearly taking my assumption and flushing it down the toilet. 

“Well it’s bloody well not what I want, is it?” He goes, turning back to face me, “As horrendously stupid it sounds to my own ears, I want you around, you know, for a while.”

And now there is this. I am crying and he’s just looking at me, waiting for me to what? Say yes? It feels to dense to squeeze another word in. I have never experienced such a moment, before, you know, other than the one where I saw my own dead mum, but I was a child and that was more heavily traumatic than this- anyway, back to the point: I don’t know how to proceed. 

“Should we kiss or something?” I finally ask, “Cause I don’t know, I’m not a Kardashian...”

He laughs and shakes his head, and I laugh too. He leans in and I realize what Anna keeps going on about feeling lucky when you find ‘the one’, because once it happens it feels like coming home. The beard is new, not quite in the way, but noticeable when my nose brushes against scraggly hair, but I can’t seem to bring myself to mind it. His hands know where to go, where to rest, where to pull me closer from, the same way mine know their way around his neck and into his hair. Neither of us seem to want to come up for breath, but eventually reality calls and we have to break away. His cheeks are wet with my tears and mine are wet with new ones. His thumbs come up to brush them away and my hands follow his arms to rest on his forearms to keep them there. 

“Don’t go.” I say out in between a sob. 

“I won’t.” He says, softly, “I’m not going to go anywhere without you.”

“I’m so sorry,” I’m still crying, so he pulls me to him, “I wanted to call or text or just- I was just so scared! I’m sorry, I am so very very sorry.”

“I know, shh, I know.”

i pull away for a moment to look him in the eye, “I love you so fucking much, Sheeran, it is actually really fucked up. Like I actually cried, like ugly-cried.”

“Oh I can believe that, love.” He says, wiping away more tears. 

We both laugh, like really, actually laugh. Fuck, this is ludicrous. But it’s just that neither of us seem to care about that at this particular moment. 

“I’m still pissed off at you, you know.” He says, “I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

“I know.” I nod, “That’s fair.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for even a second.” He tells me. 

"How'd you even know I'd be here?" I ask him, now that the yelling has been sorted.

"The comic book page you put up in the kitchen? You'd doodled all over it, so I knew it had to be special to you..." he explains,"I don't know, I thought I'd take a chance."

I laugh again, “It is actually so messed up how much I am in love with you right now.”

Yeah, Anna was right. Just like coming home. 

[insomniacsleepwalker]

So heads up peeps, I'm gonna write some Tom Holland stuff after I'm finished with Apparel!

[insomniacsleepwalker]

So... hey.

I haven't died! That's good news, eh?

Sorry about the wait, guys! Work, life and anxiety have been a bitch but thanks for reading the story and sending all the lovely messages. Honestly your guys' support is just... it's wholesome. Thank you.

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Apparel(Part10)- An Ed Sheeran Fanfiction.

The rush in my veins wakes me like my blood is pulling me out of my own slumber. My eyes open to light streaming into the room from the tiny slit in the curtains and the alarm clock says that it's a few hours before I'm supposed to wake but yet my mind is wide awake and my bones groan for movement. I twist around into my pillow and try to go back to sleep but there is a mushroom cloud of thoughts that runs through my head and most of them are irrational fears. A hurricane awakens in my chest, pinning me down in paralysis and I curl my toes and pull my knees into my chest. I wrap my arms around a pillow and squeeze tight till it vaguely resembles the feeling of being held, which eases the hurricane to steady drizzle.

Giving up on sleep I sit up in bed and run both hands through my hair. I take deep breaths, trying to convince my mind into believing that everything is okay because everything is okay. I make a mental list: I have a job, I have a nice place, I am in Corsica where nobody can hurt me, I am okay. The mop of ginger hair and a pair of blue innocent eyes pop into my head and I shove my head into my palms , rubbing the image away from my eyes. I throw the covers off me and walk to the little bathroom. The image in the mirror has changed, one that is a bit difficult to recognise. The hair is slightly shorter, the eyes have hopeless dark circles underneath and eyes of a deer caught in the headlights. I splash water on the face and start to pace around the small room, trying to release all the pent up energy that the hurricane brought along.

I have a splitting headache but I've had it for a while now, so I've gotten used to it. I follow my daily morning routine; I change, I jog to the centre of the town, pick up some produce and jog back. The flat is messy with clothes strewn about everywhere, so I do a load of laundry as well, given the extra time. The silence gets to me so I turn the radio on. I used to listen to a lot of music, but I keep away from the spotify these days because listening to his voice in a mood like this is never helpful. Voices fill up the crevices of the tiny studio as I start to prepare a breakfast for two. I've managed to get a better hold of the language since Anna started giving me lessons at night when minds need most occupying from the annoying shadows of loneliness and storms of bad thoughts. She'd quiz me on verbs every night as we'd stack shelved, or teach me how to swear someone out or win a haggling argument. It helped with the mind-occupying, and it got Anna and I talking more.

It's almost feels like the universe is correcting itself by bringing Anna into my life. She and Charlie are like the parents that I wanted to have; neither dead, nor a dick. We were like puzzle pieces, those two and I. Anna told me about how she could not conceive and I told her about my parents and Ed... And then Anna taught me some French. They needed someone to work in the bookstore, which was not doing too well financially, and I needed a job and a first class honours degree in management. We fit.

I'm focussing on not burning the eggs and breathing in and out when the latter is held redundant at the sound of Ed's voice coming from the radio. I'm... just stood there. Something seems to go through my limbs, my ligaments, my bones that nothing moves except my heart, which wrestles against my ribs. I should change the station, switch it off... stir the eggs, literally anything other than remaining stood there, staring at a pan of eggs that may soon end up as a very disappointing breakfast. I haven't heard his voice in a while. I had forgotten that there was a rasp to it when he sung. I didn't know him long, but it feels like it was forever. Or just about enough that the rest of the time could not be held comparable. I finally move. I breathe and stir the eggs. I turn the heat off, I put the eggs on the plates and I take the bacon out of the oven.

I set the table and take my seat and start eating as I listen to him sing. I recognise the tune, it was the same one I had hummed in the studio. It almost makes me want to cry but I just sit and eat my breakfast. Midway through the song, Anna uses her spare-key to let herself in and I acknowledge her presence by quietly getting up to make her a cup of coffee. She doesn't say anything, just smiles at me when I set her mug down in front of her. There is a knowing look she has when she recognises the song but she doesn't say anything. So the morning continues; we eat and we listen to a man who once spoke softly in my ear and it's okay. Everything is okay.

Once she's done though, Anna gets up and changes the station on her way to put her dishes in the sink. I don't protest against it, but I am suddenly feeling frozen again. She comes up to me, gently strokes my hair and leaves a kiss on the top of my head.

With a smile, she says, "Store in ten."

I nod and smile back and when she's gone, I switch the station back to where it was but they're not playing his song anymore. I feel a flush of embarrassment go through me and I kind of want to scream. Stupid fucking feelings just fucking up everything. I put the dishes in the sink and leave the apartment to walk down to the store. I'm usually the first one in, but Charlie said that he would open up today. The two of them are already giggling like children when I walk in. They're not even embarrassed when they get caught, they just carry on canoodling. This is what I mean when I say that the universe must be correcting itself when I see them acting around each other like this. They would've been the kind of parents who would make their children believe that love is long-lasting and worth fighting for. I could've actually fallen for it if my brain would shut up once in a goddamned while.

"Can we stop with the PDA, please?" I call out and they just giggle a little more, but break away nonetheless.

Charlie goes back to working behind the counter and I give Anna a hand with re-stacking shelves with the new-arrivals. We talk a little more about the business and I suggest that we should add a sitting area for people to read and get to know their books before they invest their time in it and maybe serve some coffee and stuff.

"Haven't you had enough of pouring coffee?" Charlie jokes.

"For twats, yes." I joke back.

Anna and Charlie glance at each other with this knowing, parent-y look and I groan out loud.

"I'm fine, guys, seriously and it's a good idea." I say, "Trust me."

"We didn't say anything!" Anna says, on the defensive, "And it IS a good idea, but where do we have the space for that?"

"Oh the referencing shelf can be moved to the back," I tell them, "People don't refrence anymore."

"Really?" Charlie asks, "Huh, alright, we'll discuss it later."

"Okay, it'll send the sales through the roof, though." I tell them, "Anyway, it is my lunch break," I walk over to Charlie and hold out my hand, "gimmie."

He shares another look with Anna and I groan again, "I'M FIIINE."

"We didn't say anything!" Charlie says this time, as he drops a hand-rolled cigarette into my waiting palm.

"But you're shit at communicating with your mouth shut." I tell him and he laughs.

I walk out with a smile on my face, feeling much better than I did this morning. That's what I love about those two, they always make me feel better. I walk along the cobbled streets, make a stop at a grocery store to pick up a sandwich, and keep walking till I reach the lookout spot. I've had a funny relationship with the place, the past couple of months. A lot of crying, a lot of thorns, and just overall unease of being in a place alone where I just wanted to have Ed with me. I sort of avoided it for a bit in the middle, but I've grown to like it a bit more. It gives me hope that maybe I could bring someone here, someday and it won't end up being horrible. It's a far-fetched dream, but it's something. I can almost feel her in the wind that passes though my hair, telling me that things will fall into place.

I eat my lunch and then light up my cigarette and let the tingles take over my fingertips. It's a bad habit, Anna has been barking at me about it for weeks now, but it's the only thing that overpowers the anxiety and doesn't make me cry. I finish it rather quickly and I'm already craving another one. It's why I don't buy my own; I won't stop smoking them. Plus Charlie rolls really well and I can't roll for shit.

I check my watch and I have some time before I have to get back. Usually I don't wait around but something about the water today, I can't seem to look away. I lean against the railing and just watch as the water rages at its depths but eases gently onto shore. It's quiet. I like it quiet. Even my brain's shut up. I breathe in and out, and this time it's quite easy. The wind's nice, and the sun feels warm on my skin and for once I can close my eyes and just be. It's quite nice actually.

And in timely fashion,

"Not planning to jump, are you?" I hear from behind me.

Merde.

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Hey guys,

Sorry it's been so long. I promise to have the next chapter up soon! Love you guys❤️

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Thoughts at 3am...

The kind of guy I want is someone I can call up at some ridiculous time, drag him out of bed, have him call me ridiculous, crazy, very annoying but he will get out of bed for me and we will watch the sunrise together and he would smile anyway and kiss me and it'd be awesome.

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Apparel(Part9)- Ed Sheeran Fanfiction.

The world could not be more beautiful if you just knew where to look. The blue waters seem to loom and dance in the sunlight, tease the sands, which moulds around my feet as they slightly sink into the soft grains. The wind is so comforting, cool and calm as it sails along my hair, whispering into my ear something in a language that is beyond my understanding. The sky... the sky is such a clear blue that I could actually mistake it for a mirror that has been placed over the ocean with gigantic balls of cotton floating along its surface if I looked at it for long enough. This is real. This is where I wanted to be. And yet it’s the furthest from where I want to be. 

Everything is perfect, the way I imagined it, even better. The cobblestone steps, the mountains, which seemed to hand-plucked from the ground by a giant, the old buildings that have stories etched in each brick... it’s all here, and yet it isn’t what I want; I don’t feel as good I thought I would. In fact, I feel far from good. Pain has seeped through my skin, poisoned my heart and sunk into my bones, so much so that every single movement I make, it reminds me of him. My skin on my cheeks has memorised the trail my tears usually take, and my mouth, their saltiness. Every breath is a punch in the gut, and all of this beauty around me ceases to exist at any level of importance because the sole thought that occupies my mind is a single syllable, which could one of the most dangerous ones in the entire English language; why?

Why the fuck did I have to get myself into this mess? Why did I not get out when I had the fucking chance? Why do these things have to be so fucking painful? Why the fuck does LOVE EVEN EXIST IF ALL IT IS MEANT TO DO IS GIVE YOU FUCKING PAIN?????!! Fucking why?

I sigh as it replays in my head over and over again. Tears come as they always do, and I sink down to my knees, letting the water embrace them before it pulls away. Things I could have done differently, things I should have done differently, things I wish never happened, it’s a whole plethora of torture devices, like razors that have come to life and are running wild on the inside of my skull, driving me insane. I look at my hands, wish I was holding his, I wish he was here looking at the ocean with me, I wish I could invent a time loop and be stuck in that happy moment for the rest of my life. The lottery of moments when I was resting in his arms, his lips in my hair, his heartbeat against my ears and the low drum of the rain pattering against the window. 

��We should go on a proper date.” He said out of the blue, making me look back up at him and smile. 

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” I said. He’d laughed and squeezed me closer to kiss my forehead. 

“I’d like to take you out to dinner and a movie, kiss you goodnight, that sort of thing. Would you like that?” He asked. 

“I’ve never been on a date, before,” I told him while tracing patterns on his collarbone. 

He pulled back to give me a look of curiosity and he said, “Really?” 

I shrugged and continued to trace my name on his chest. I remember how funny it felt lying on his lion-tattooed chest and tracing the shape of the eye on his nipple, making him giggle a little bit. He took my tracing hand and pulled it up to his lips. It was my perfect moment, up until the point to where he said, “I’m taking you out to a date tomorrow night. We will go to a party that I have been invited to, and then I’m taking you back to my place where we are going to sit in pyjamas and watch Sherlock and eat ice cream. Sound good?” 

I looked at him and smiled, cuddled closer to his chest, tightening my arms around his neck and said, “Sounds fucking awesome.” 

And it felt amazing, but of course, the ever-growing pit of fear in my stomach had stepped in and punched with a fist of reality. I became uneasy and he asked me what was wrong, of course, he did. 

I told him, “I don’t plan on being here for too long, Ed.” 

My heart was beating so loud that I was sure he could hear it. He breathed out a sigh and smiled, and said, “You scared me for a second.” 

“What?” I asked, more than a little surprised at his response, “what were you expecting?” 

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “With you, I can never tell. I thought you would tell me that you had a kid somewhere or something.”

I laughed out loud, even snuck in a snort, at which he giggled and said, “I knew you were leaving, jughead.”

“How, exactly?” I asked.

“Because I’m not fucking blind. Look around you, your loft is empty, you don’t have furniture, and you are living off a suitcase. I almost thought that you were squatting in someone else’s apartment, the first time I came in!” He said. 

“Jesus, why didn’t you say anything?” I asked, raising myself up on my elbow to look him in the eye.

“I don’t know, I just thought you’d tell me when you were ready. To be honest, the only reason I came here to wait after kissing you was because I didn’t know when you would just leave, so I had to make sure that you admitted your feelings for me before you did, I was actually afraid that you had already left without saying anything because I never know with a little troublemaker like you, do I?” 

I was quiet for a moment, contemplating in the silence. There were so many things to be contemplated about everything that I had just found out in that moment; things like he was afraid that I had left, or perhaps the fact that he knew that I would be leaving. A whirlwind of thoughts and over-thoughts that passed through my head made me a little dizzy. I cleared my throat and said, “What do you mean by ‘make sure that I admitted my feelings’?” 

“Which part is unclear?” He asked. 

“All of it, just explain it to me, what did you mean by making sure that I admitted my feelings?” 

“Hitch, I know that you like me, I would go as far as to say that you loved me even, and I also know that it scares you. I know because you let me know, for which I am so grateful. I reciprocate those feelings, I promise you I do, but I also know that you are too stubborn to admit it, so I knew I had to make sure you did before you left.” His voice was sturdy when he said it, he looked me dead in the eye when he was speaking, holding my hand, playing with my fingers all the while. He meant it; he knew me. Which made it all the more hard to say what I had to say next. 

“You’re right. I do like you, even, well... you know?” I couldn’t say it out loud then, thought I would scream it on the top of my lungs now, “But that doesn’t change anything. I still plan on leaving, I’m sorry but I can’t stay here-” 

“Then I’ll come with you.” He cut me off, “Whatever your reason, I will follow you because you can’t just come here, take my heart and leave. I’m not letting you get away that easy.”

I laughed. I wish I had blurted it out right there and then. I wish to everything in me that I could change this story but it always goes the same fucking way. 

“Well it’s good that we’re having our first date here then, cause I was about to leave next week,” I said, pinching his side, a little, and he giggled. I miss those giggles and his little laughs, they always did make me feel a little lighter. 

“I had a fucking week?! Well, that’s wasted effort then.” He joked and I pinched him again. 

This is the good part, though. But of course, there is always the big and bad part that comes out of nowhere to ruin a perfect fairytale, and with it comes pain. The one true indication of being human; the needles that settle into the skin and carve out your story on the inside and all you can do is grieve, and wait for the pain to be over, and then grieve some more. It is inevitable, and apparently, I had avoided long enough for it come back with a fury of heartbreak. 

When Ed had said party, he had failed to mention whose party, and it had ended badly. Not because I wasn’t aware of whose party it was; on the contrary, I was almost much too aware of whose party it was. My heart dropped into my stomach the second I saw the building. I could have said something then, but my voice died inside my throat. Ed asked if everything was alright, but I just nodded. Why the fuck did I just nod? Why didn’t I fucking grab him by the elbow and tell him the truth? Why was this one thing so hard to get out as opposed to the much bigger things that I had already told him? Jesus Fucking Christ, why, always with the why!!

We entered through the doorway, walking straight into the devil’s chamber and there she was, smiling that sickly sweet smile, her dainty, nibbly little fingers wrapped around the neck of a wine glass, her dress covered in sequence and showing more cleavage than what was actually in there. Up until that point, I could never say I had thrown up in my mouth, but I did, but it had more to do with Ed than anything else. I did grab him, though. I almost told him had it not been for the skank when she recognised him and welcomed him in and then she saw me. She met my eye and I could already feel the rage beginning to seethe. She was about to open her injected, and disease infested mouth and ruin my happiness, again. Of course, this was happening to me right then. What better way to shatter a perfect bliss than to be met again with the devil spawn that shattered it the first time. 

“Hitch, you came!” I heard the spawn wail out to the Devil in its ear-torturing voice, but luckily Ed had walked away. For once I was glad to be left alone at a party. I ignored the witch and ducked away when she reached out to me with her flailing witch-arms, grabbed a drink and went on to look for Ed. I had to tell him. I had to get out of here. She followed me, of course, making irrelevant noise about how happy she was that I was here and how happy Robert would be. And then I fucking remembered. There was another demon to be dealt with. I sighed and turned to her. It had to be done, so I did it, 

“Listen, you ruined my life. You’re probably innocent because it is mostly Robert’s fault, but I am human and he’s the father who is paying my bills, so I have to blame you for the fact that my mother stuck a knife in her throat. Get the fuck away from me because I am not here for you, what I wish for you is far from happiness and these are the only words I will ever speak to you.” 

I expected that to be much more relieving than it was. It was a few handful of words that I had aways wanted to say to her face but never felt the need to. And when I finally did, it didn’t feel quite right, it felt funny, it felt a little relieving, but all in all not what I had expected. Something else that I hadn’t expected was her response. I had somehow always pictured her getting some form of upset, but what I couldn’t imagine, in possibly a thousand years, was the fact that this bitch had the audacity to get angry at me. I mean, what the fuck would you expect from someone whose childhood, teenage years and adult life were gravely affected in not the good way, simply because you decided to flirt with your boss. But her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as she prepared to tell me off. I would have clocked her, but seeing as I had a more important task at hand, and even so more worthy of my time, I left her to fume as I walked away. 

I had to find Ed. I had to tell him now, and then run so far and so fast in the opposite direction that there would be a me-shaped hole in Robert’s front door. The only issue with that was that Ed was nowhere to be found, and apparently the universe had decided today to make a comeback in its hit show, ‘Fucking up the life of Hitch’ since I felt someone angrily grab my elbow to turn me around, and low and behold there stood the man who was hired to produce the show, my low-life, pathetic excuse of a father. 

“How dare you speak to her like that?” He asked me in a low voice. 

I had no time for this. I wanted nothing more than to just leave, but I couldn’t leave without Ed. I had to find him, and I had to run. But, of course, Robert had other plans. 

“You come in here, and you embarrass me in front of my guests, you ungrateful girl, after everything I have done for you. Sheila would be so disappointed in what you have become.” 

The words cut me in a way that made me understand why she did what she did. I saw him for the kind of man he was, cruel and uncaring, and simply put, selfish. For years I had held the smallest pillars of hope that maybe he had changed, maybe he had regretted all of it, and on some level, I had stayed away to keep that hope alive only for him to ruin it yet again. I remember feeling rage, more of it bubbling in me than ever before and as I felt it, Robert saw it but didn’t utter a single syllable to take it back. I wanted nothing more than to just throw a fist back and show him what actual embarrassment felt like. But I didn’t the point, it would’ve been like banging my skull against a concrete wall, absolutely fucking pointless. So instead, I screamed and I’ll admit that that felt good. 

“You slimy, disgusting BASTARD! You want to talk about what you’ve given me?!” I shoved him away and people began to notice, “You gave me doubt, anger, and a life without a mother. You might as well have stabbed her yourself you sick asshole!” 

I would have gone on but then I saw him from the corner of my eye. I had attracted quite the crowd with my outburst but the way he was looking at me, everyone else was blurred out of the picture. There was a moment, a moment in which nobody breathed, my heart skipped a beat, my blood rushed through my veins, my ears rang and in a moment, I experienced the world’s longest moment. I should’ve said something, I should’ve opened my damn mouth but in that moment, I also realised something. I realised that I have caused more pain than what has been caused to me. I have dug up old wounds and carved new wounds just by being even slightly involved and in the process hurt someone I have come to care about. And it was too much. I could’ve stayed, faced my demons, could’ve left and called Ed after I had cooled down but I did none of those things. 

Instead, I did what I do best. I ran. 

[insomniacsleepwalker]

That was beautiful, it really touched me xx

Thank you :) A lot of it was said to me in real life, it hurt to write it down but I guess if it made sense at the time, it makes sense here...

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Girl I have missed your writing so much! So glad you're back!

Thank you :)

[insomniacsleepwalker]

Hey guys...

Sorry, that took a while. It was a little hard to write because I’ve been going through some rough stuff and it has made writing a lot harder. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I’ll try to have the next one up soon. 

Thanks for being patient with me. 

I love you guys :)