The front door swings open, "Come on in ginge." I greet Ed and he smiles whilst rolling his eyes.

"Thanks frizzy head." He laughs, wiping his feet on the welcome mat before entering mine and Harry's humble abode.

"I haven't seen you in ages." My arms wrap around his neck tightly once the door is closed securely, my chin resting comfortably on top of his shoulder whilst his own tattooed arms wraps around my thin waist.

"I know, how're you doing?" Asks Ed, concern in his voice. I know he's been seeing the magazine articles and shocking pictures of me wandering the streets in my heartbroken solitude, I know he's heard all the rumours too. He knows about my miscarriage, as does everyone in the world, I really should have called him myself instead of letting him find out this way - it's extremely insensitive of me.

"I'm good actually, how're you?" My voice is strong and confident for a change.

"Glad to hear it. And I'm really busy, lots of touring and recording. I've barely had any time to myself." He confesses, his blue eyes scanning the hallway we're currently standing in.

"Would you like a drink?" I ask, dragging my old friend into the living room by his wrist.

"No thanks," he laughs, watching on happily as Comet bites Zazu's reluctantly patient self, the small terror nibbling and tugging at the bengal cats ears as the continues to ignore the over-enthusiastic playful pup. "Are they always like this?"

"Yep." I nod along, also watching the two. Ed's backpack brings back sudden memories, the two of us writing songs together last year whilst he had a break from tour; he spent most of his nights here with me just writing songs, Harry joined too later in the mornings before he left for sound check. "I see you've brought the tatter-pack." I motion towards his bag.

He chuckles, "yeah," Ed's eyes flit to the extremely old and overused backpack, he really needs a new one. "Thought we could do a bit of writing, like old times." How sweet of him.

"Sounds great Ed,"

The both of us plonk onto the couch, side by side, and brainstorm ideas. I seriously have missed this, writing music has always been a passion of mine; apparently I have a talent in it, or so Ed says, but I think other wise. "What type of song do you want to write?" I ask him, pulling out my black journal from the slim crevice within the side of our coffee table.

"Well I wanted to write a song about you." He tells me, his voice almost asking for my permission.

"Me?" I reply in shock.

"Well, yeah. You've been through a lot and I think it's really inspiring. I think it'd be a good way to tell the world how you feel." He offers.

"Ed, the world knows exactly how I feel. I've been on every newspaper and magazine for the last two and a half months. And anyway, it's none of the worlds business." I answer him back in sharp and almost offended tone.

"I don't want to fight Emma," he holds his hands up in a defensive manner and stops the conversation before it goes any further. "I'm sorry I made you mad." He murmurs sadly. My subconscious snarls at herself, why would I flip out on him like that? That was so horrible, now I feel really guilty. "Can I ask you a question?" Ed sums up the courage to ask after a long and torturing silence. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"About everything. Why not me?" His voice is soft but determined. He really is bothered by the fact that I didn't tell him. Although, I didn't tell anyone, I didn't even tell Harry, and Ed knows that; so why is he so offended?

My eyebrows furrow at his question, "I didn't see a reason too. My husband hated me, my friends hated me, my fans hated me, and I hated myself. I didn't really have a reason to live." I answer honestly, recalling the dark memories that will forever follow me. "Can we talk about something else please?"

"No." His voice is harsh though I can see the pain and reluctance in his eyes, I know he doesn't want to put me through this, but at the same time I can tell he wants answers.

A hint of anger and impatience grows within me. "What would you have done Ed? I was slowly killing myself." I breath, slowly panicking myself. "And no matter how many people or doctors that tell me other wise, I killed that baby, and I'm going to have to live with that torment for the rest of my life." I argue with him, does he understand how hard this is for me? "So excuse me if I don't want to talk about it." I finish bluntly, panting as I try to catch my heaving breath.

My eyes turn ashamedly to the floor, disbelieving of my small outburst. "I'm so sorry," my voice croaks and wavers as I apologise to Ed, tears burn my dimming hazel eyes as they have done undoubtedly for the last few months. I blink them away quickly, I can't do this now, just imagine how my family would feel if they saw me like this. They'd be so upset if they saw me like this. My hands wipe at the tear stained trails that now cover my cheeks, I'm stronger than this now.

Ed sits there in silence and just watches me compose myself, waiting patiently until I'm able to speak again. His calloused, over-used fingers soothe me as he gently rubs my back in a comforting manner. "Come on," I stand up fully composed deciding he's right. "Let's write that song."

Time passes fairly quickly. I think I needed this - just time with an old friend. The song has been coming along really well and Ed seems to be very pleased with it so far, he's glad that I'm pouring my heart out; and to be honest I'm glad about that too, songwriting is obviously therapeutic as it feels like a great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

"Right once more of the chorus and then we're done." Ed announces. He's been doing the melody whilst I have been accompanying him with the correct harmony lines. It sounds almost angelic.

'Baby girl, you're all I have,

All I want,

All I need, in this lifetime, oh,

And I let you down, baby girl,

When you trusted me wholly,

You're one and only, let you down.'

Our voices collide in perfect synchronisation and we smile happily at each other as he ends the final recording, his index finger tapping the red button on his phone screen. "You know, it's hard to think that you felt all of that." Ed murmurs.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's just so much pain and heartache that comes across, but I would never have thought that out of all of the people in this world you were the one to feel it." He explains with conviction, as if he's utterly surprised at the revelation. "It's just hard to imagine you as anything but strong."

His words trigger my thoughts and my mouth speaks involuntarily, "Butterflies may fly, but their wings can still break."

There's a small thoughtful pause before Ed breaks it with his laugh, ruining the once serious moment. "Wow, that was deep." Ed chuckles to himself like a small child would at a funny toy.

"Yeah I'm deep now, didn't you know?" I laugh along with him, but I can't help but think what I said is true. Even the most perfect things in life can break.

"But seriously, they'd be good lyrics. We could write another song with that." Well then why don't we? I ask myself realising that Ed's not exactly psychic.

"We should." I smile with meaning.

"Thank you for this." He smiles with me, his cheeks filling with a small blush as he does. He's so adorable bless him!

"No, thank you. I didn't know how much I needed this."

"I think we're both thankful, It's good to have you back." His smile is genuine and I know he truly means what he's saying, "now let's write that song." He laughs.

•••

Ed and I have spent the afternoon watching films. Our morning of songwriting came to a gradual close after we complied some songs that Ed was happy with, since then we've been watching films. We're finishing our second one now.

"Ed I don't want to watch films anymore." I whine like a child, leaning my head on his shoulder as we share a red tartan blanket on the couch, the one my mum gave me as a present last Christmas because she knows I get even colder in the winter.

"Well what do you want to do your majesty?" He speaks sarcastically with a playful roll of the eyes.

"Something fun and entertaining." I offer with ease, pouting my lips and frowning my brows as I try to come up with something.

I love times like this with Ed, it reminds me a lot of when we first met and we'd stay at each other houses and have 'movie days' as we'd call them; just days when both of us had a day off from work and would arrange an entire day to watch films. It was absolute bliss, just two friends. so much has changed now, it's hard to believe.

Within a few minutes we decide to do a twitcam. The fans always used to love seeing either of us on a twitcam, never mind the both of us together. I boot up the laptop and place it on the coffee table in front of us, logging on to the familiar site and looking through my notifications.

Without any notice to the fans I immediately start up a twitcam and we have one thousand viewers in no time. I glance at Ed, "that was quick." I say referring to the number of viewers that continues to increase by the minute.

"Right, who wants to hear a bit of a new song?" Ed's voice cheers with enthusiasm, trusty paw-print-covered guitar in hand. His fingers pick at the strings, plucking the correct chords to one of the songs we have just written.

My gaze is questioning. Does he really want to ruin it for them? I thought it was going to be a surprise. Obviously not.

Ed notices my wary expression and gives me a cunning smirk in response, assuring me that I have nothing to worry about. He plucks at some familiar chords and coughs, "actually I don't feel like it." He laughs teasingly.

The fans comments come booming in, full of caps lock and funny reaction pictures; I absolutely love the fans, they are incredible. "That was cruel." I laugh along with him.

"Okay, okay." Ed gives in and plucks the chords again, going a little bit further this time; the laptop erupts with comments.

"I think they like that Ed." I chuckle at some of the caps lock comments. The fans seem so excited, I absolutely love it.

"I think they do too. I can't wait for you guys to hear it, I think it's a good one." He nods towards me to ask for my opinion.

"Yeah it's great." I admit nodding alongside him, the both of us looking down at the laptop. "Right, time for some shout outs!"

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- Pianogirl56