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“Don’t discard me, please.”
“Kill me before you do, please.”
“Only you can.”
It never failed to leave Crowley perplexe how sincere Ferid seemed to be when they were truly alone. And especially in the confined space of a coffin.
Letting himself be almost transparent enough to be read.
He always sounded like he was pleading someone other than Crowley, never meeting his eyes and imploring a distant echo like in a prayer. Crowley himself had stopped praying so long ago yet Ferid almost seemed like he still was.
“I will do what I can. No, I won’t run away this time.”
Crowley had tried to close his eyes before answering but hearing himself left him unable to fall asleep. He enjoyed the state of being unconscious for hours to stop his racing thoughts but with Ferid against him it was if those very thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth instead.
It had always been like this for the last 800 years, even the first day they met. His own words were sometimes held against him, toyed with, deconstructed, turned around or simply repeated in a song.
But they were always wanting to be heard.
Words nobody wanted to hear, words that he himself could never bring to burden anyone with. He could burden Ferid with them, because it was what he wished. Burdening him with them felt good, he felt no guilt doing so. Surely, he would feel no guilt killing him either, he thought.
So in exchange, he paid close attention to Ferid’s countenance wavering ever-so-slightly.
And sometimes those words hit an imaginary target that left Ferid silent. It happened a lot more recently.
“Thank you.”
Ferid’s last reply came out in a quiet sigh so uncharacteristic of the way he spoke in a singsong. He buried his face deeper in Crowley’s chest and his nails dug into the larger man’s back almost enough to tear holes in the fabric. Limbs entangled and Crowley resting his chin on top of loose silver hair.
The coffin never knew any discussions in any other tone than hushed.
Grasping at what little fragment of humanity could have been left in that coffin. Those fragments had all been crushed a long time ago but somehow the shards kept hurting them both.
It was to crush those shards that they slept in that same coffin.
And it was to crush some more that they slept in the backseat of classic cars.