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It hasn’t been long, only a year, but it was too long. Ever since Aziraphale left, the days, the weeks and the months seemed much longer. A year, used to be, was a blink of an eye. Now, it felt like a century. Ever since Aziraphale left, every passing day became harder and harder for Crowley:
Now, he was back. And somehow, Crowley felt worse.
Crowley tried his best to stay steady. He couldn’t let Nina know that Aziraphale still had an effect on him. She wouldn’t care that much, though, but she had been trying to help Crowley get over him for a year now, and he didn’t want to disappoint her, not really. She had been visiting and taking care of him (and his plants when Crowley was too busy being depressed he couldn’t take care of them) for over a year. She even offered him a therapist. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful. Even though, the therapy didn’t go as well as it was planned.
“You’re still referring him with pet names,” the therapist said, one day. “Angel.”
“What? No, no,” said Crowley, gasping. “It’s not… I’m not… He really is an angel, it’s not a pet name.”
“Are you sure?”
Crowley paused. Of course, it was a pet name. He had always known he wasn’t calling Aziraphale an angel only because of the fact that he was one. It was an endearment. He just didn’t want to confess that. “Whatever,” he muttered. “He’s not an ordinary one anymore, got promoted. He’s the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, you see. That’s why he left… the Earth.” Crowley felt a lump in his throat, the word ‘me’ got lost in his tongue.
“And how do you feel about this?” The therapist asked, casually taking notes in her notebook. Crowley had miracled her at the start of their session, so she didn’t freak out about them being supernatural entities.
“What kind of a question is that,” said Crowley, sarcastically. “How do I feel? Yeah, okay, let’s see… My only friend for over 6000 years, who also happens to be my supposedly greatest enemy, has gone to Heaven, after my fucking love confession. After they tried to erase his existence! How do you think I feel?”
The therapist looked like she was struggling, probably trying to process everything with her little human brain. She wasn’t gonna get it, though, how could any human understand their friendship? He knew the therapy was pointless.
“Yeah, well… See you, then.” Crowley got up from his seat, and just before he was about to leave the room, he turned back and waved his hand in the air as he said, “You will forget everything about this session.”
He never went to another session afterwards. This was almost six months ago. After that, Nina came up with another not-so-helpful offer: a night out with friends. This was a completely terrible idea, because well, Crowley didn’t have any friends. Not anymore.
“I am your friend,” said Nina. She was frowning, looking quite offended. “Come on, Anthony. We’ll have fun and I won’t even bring Maggie, just so you don’t feel like a third wheel.”
“Ohhh, you won’t bring your girlfriend, how kind!” Crowley paced around the coffee shop with a cup of filter coffee in his hand. “Alright, I’ll go. But don’t think this will help anything.”
“Don’t be sure,” she said, winking as she poured some lactose-free milk into a large cup. “Maybe you meet someone.”
Crowley burst into a loud laughter, drawing everyone’s attention in the shop. Nina, somehow, was still thinking Crowley was a human. She believed he could get over Aziraphale and start a new life with a mortal human. “Sure, suuure,” he said, cackling. “I bet I can find the love of my life in a bar, full of mortals, start living with them and then watch them grow old and die, eventually. Sounds like a great plan to me!”
“Oh, shut up. You don’t make sense again.” Nina put the coffee cup down on the counter so aggressively that she almost spilt it. “And you’re being not helpful, at all. It’s like you enjoy torturing yourself and I’m quite out of ideas. Just stop doing this to yourself, it’s been… I don’t know, eight months? Eight months since—“
“Eight months and twelve days.” Crowley corrected.
Nina sighed, “Exactly. It’s been eight months and twelve days since he left. And you’re still dragging your pathetic ass around for someone who didn’t even call you once, like a fucking loser.”
Her words were like a slap in the face. It was true. He was pathetic, a loser. Aziraphale had never tried to get in contact with him. Nina was right, yet, Crowley couldn’t help but get angry. “You know nothing,” he hissed, pointing his finger toward her. “I am not. In fact, I’m perfectly well. So, don’t bother coming over anymore or do anything at all. I don’t need you to interfere in my life.”
“Sure,” called Nina as Crowley was storming off the coffee shop. “Try looking at the mirror sometimes, then!”
She had a point. Crowley didn’t fuss about his looks lately. By ‘lately’, I mean, exactly eight months and twelve days. He didn’t bother styling his hair or shaving his beard. Yet, he always liked being extra with his style, especially in the latest century, he quite liked strutting around like a rockstar. He hoped Aziraphale would like it, too. Now, for obvious reasons, his will to impress the people around him was not really strong. He still wore his usual clothes with a long coat on top, but people could tell he didn’t actually pay attention to himself. His hair was the most lifeless tone of copper, long and messy. He had a stubbly beard covering his always-looking-grumpy face.
Crowley could fix it without even snapping his fingers, but he couldn’t care less. He wasn’t enjoying life itself anymore and wasn’t trying to impress any angel. He let himself be.
Later that evening, Nina showed up at his place with a bottle of wine and Chinese takeouts as an apology. Crowley had never understood why she was so patient with him but hadn’t asked. He simply took the bottle and poured it into a glass right away. Turns out, she had also brought a copy of Mamma Mia to watch together.
“It’s one of Maggie’s favourites, I’m not a big fan of musicals myself, but this one’s actually fun,” she explained as she prepared the room for a movie night. “I don’t want you to suffer alone, so if you don’t like this, I have an extra to make you cry ‘til your eyes out.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just start it already.” Crowley slumped onto the couch, making himself comfortable. He had big fluffy couches now with a bunch of other furniture like a big bookshelf filled with some Jane Austen novels and some of the other books he took from the bookshop, or a couple of end tables to put their leftovers on a movie night like this one. He liked keeping his flat simple, but this was his only home now and he occasionally had guests, after all.
Halfway through the movie, Crowley was feeling slightly uncomfortable. The lyrics of some of the songs reminded him of Aziraphale, he found it hard to concentrate. “I’ve never had a mother,” he said, distractedly. Shifting in his seat as Donna sang a heart-wrenching song for her daughter.
“What,” Nina asked, eyes wide. “You never knew your mom?”
“No, no, I didn’t say that. Of course, I know my mother. But she wasn’t really a good mom, or anything close to being a mom, rather.” Crowley shrugged, eyes still on the screen. Then, Donna started to second pre-chorus part of the song:
‘What happened to those wonderful adventures?
The places I had planned for us to go?
Well, some of that we did, but most, we didn’t.
And why? I just don’t know.
Slipping through my fingers all the time. ’
Within seconds, Crowley was in tears. He didn’t let them fall, but they were there. He remembered when he went to the Ritz, all by himself, right after Aziraphale left the Earth. He wanted to go there with him, wanted to have a grand breakfast with Aziraphale, watching him devour all the food while Crowley only drank Irish coffee. It had never happened.
“Hey, you alright?” Nina gently grabbed his arm, her voice was full of worry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this could trigger you. You’ve never told me about your relationship with your mother.”
“Huh? What?” Crowley blinked a couple of times, standing upright to pull himself together. He turned away from her to secretly wipe his tears. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you cry because of your situation with your mom?”
“Oh? Ah,” stammered Crowley. He was still shaken because of the song, but he managed to grin. “Y-Yeah, absolutely. Terrible woman, she was. Kicked me out of the house and all.”
“Oh, God...” Nina gasped.
“Indeed, God herself.”
“What about your dad,” she asked as she paused the movie. She poured more wine into both Crowley’s and her own glass. “Didn’t he do anything?”
“My father?” Crowley’s grin widened in spite of the very tears still shining in his eyes. “Oh, no. No father, at all.”
She didn’t say anything, but her face looked sad. Even her smell had uneasy notes now. Crowley didn’t want any more pep talk from her, it annoyed him. She could be really annoying when she was sad. Sometimes Crowley felt like Nina was treating him like a lost puppy or something like that. It was very disturbing. “Anyway,” he said, eyes turning to the telly. “Let’s get on with it.”
After that night, Nina didn’t push him for anything. She was always there, showing up at his door at weird hours, sometimes with Maggie, to check up on him. Some nights the three of them had dinners, or sometimes Crowley would be invited to the coffee shop to have lunch with them. But mostly it was only Nina. And it was, in fact, great. Because for some reason, Maggie had reminded him of Aziraphale a lot.
Crowley was missing him so much.
Even so, with Nina’s constant presence by his side, he was dealing with his depression better. He still had a drinking problem, yes, but at least he wasn’t drinking until he was dead drunk anymore. The first week after Aziraphale left was the toughest one so far. He remembered drinking all day long and doing stupid things. Such as driving to Edinburgh.
It was two days after the event. The thunder was roaring, the raindrops were pouring like tears from the sky. It was Crowley’s doing, but he wasn’t aware of that. His eyes weren’t on the road, his mind was too busy to focus on anything. He just drove by a habit.
He had never felt like this before. It was much worse than any physical pain. Neither falling nor being tortured by demons could hurt like this. There was no knife in the universe that could cut through his soul like this. There was no one in the universe who could reach out to his heart and then rip it apart. No one but him.
“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” he repeated, punching the steering wheel. He wasn't sure if he meant Aziraphale or himself by saying that. Obviously, Aziraphale was an idiot for trusting Heaven again. But Crowley was stupider for falling in love with an angel.
At the very moment, the car radio turned on by itself. Crowley didn’t notice it until Shax’s voice rose from the radio.
“Crowley, I have news for you.” They said.
“What,” asked Crowley, dryly.
“You will get your flat back. I won't send another demon to Earth, humans are already up to no good and we don't have enough personnel.”
“Yeah, I don't care.”
“What,” Shax asked, in confusion. But didn't you say you care?”
“Look, Shax--“
The demon interrupted him. “Lord Shax.”
Crowley sighed exasperatedly. He wasn't in the mood to have a chat with Shax. Lord Shax, yes, alright, good for them. But who cares? Crowley didn't, for a start. Right before he turned the radio off again, he said, “I. Don't. Care.”
Crowley kept driving, not knowing where he was headed. He still wasn’t able to see the road, but that wasn’t important. Bentley was good at finding places on her own. He drove and drove and drove. The Sun had left the sky, and the Moon shone bright, but Crowley didn’t stop. Up until Bentley gave up and cut herself out.
“Arghh, come on!” Crowley hissed, stamping. He tried to start the car again, but it didn’t work out. It’s like Bentley didn’t want him to. He tried one more time and failed again. “Urgh, fine!”
He got out of the car and looked around. He wasn’t in London anymore, but he knew this place. It was different than before, but still entirely familiar. Especially, that one particular sculpture ahead was too familiar. He was in Edinburgh, in the cemetery.
It was still raining and the thunders didn’t look like they were going to stop any soon, Crowley didn’t care. He walked through the sculpture, looked up and saw the face he loathed. Former Supreme Archangel Gabriel. As he continued to look at it, a violent impulse rose within him more and more. He wanted to break it into pieces, smash it, fix it and smash it again. Over and over and over. Because it wasn't fair. How could someone like Gabriel be happy with Lord Beelzebub in Alpha Centauri, but not him and his angel? It certainly wasn't fair at all.
Over six thousand years, he waited. And for what?
He knew now. He wasn't too fast or anything. It's just... Aziraphale had never loved him. Because Crowley wasn't enough, he wasn't good enough. He had never been. He was evil, right? He was a demon. Even when Crowley thought they were on their side, they were not. Aziraphale hadn't stopped being an angel. And as an angel, Aziraphale couldn't love a demon, not really. It was the truth. He was seeing it now. All this time, Crowley was so sure that Aziraphale loved him back, but it was just a lie that Crowley told himself. He fooled himself.
Crowley bit his lip, he was fighting with the tears. He clenched his fists, still wanting to break the sculpture. Then, he felt his legs weren't as strong as they should be anymore. He collapsed on the ground, not tearing his gaze away from Gabriel's face. "I hate you," he said, voice low and shaky. "Why you, huh? Why not me?"
Crowley punched the dirt beneath him. It was muddy due to the storm. He shouted loudly with rage. He was so angry, so disappointed. He couldn't help his tears fell off as his body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. He had never felt this helpless. Even when he thought he lost Aziraphale for good, back when the bookshop burned down, he'd still a have little bit of motive: He wanted revenge. But this time was different. This time there was no one to get revenge on. This time it was simple: Aziraphale didn't love him. There was nothing he could do.
The first time in his life, he had opened his heart to someone, just to get it broken.
He howled with laughter, hysterically. Everything seemed unreal. His head was fuzzy, he was cold and wet. He was exhausted. He wanted these feelings to go away, he wanted it to stop hurting. He laughed harder, punching the mud again, pointlessly.
That night wasn’t even the only time he did something stupid when he was drunk.
The next day after Edinburgh, when he was still hungover, he went to Dirty Donkey to drink more, because he was that much stupid.
“You see, I was one of the Archangels once,” said Crowley, loudly. He was too drunk to control his actions. He took a sip from his whiskey before continuing. “So, I know Gabriel quite well. He was an ass, he was always an ass. But even Gabriel is having his own happily ever after! This is bollocks! I'm telling you, never trust an angel! They're all ass!”
“Oh my! May God forgive you,” said the old man who was sitting across from Crowley.
Crowley jumped from his seat, grabbed the collar of the old man's shirt. His eyes were burning with rage behind his sunglasses. “Don't say that to me,” he hissed.
The old man was scared. He nodded obediently, and then Crowley released his collar. They didn't know each other, they've never even seen each other before. It's only Crowley was too drunk, he sat on the man's table without asking and started talking shit. The man didn't know the context, didn't know who Crowley was. He was a regular human being.
“Where was I,” said Crowley, trying to remember his words. “Ah, yes! Angels are ass! If you'd meet one, you'd know. Ngk. Alright, okay, maybe not all of them. Yes, Aziraphale is different. But he's stupid, you know? He's so stupid. How can someone so clever can be this stupid? I don't get it. Argh. What did he expect? Aah-Yes, sure I would like to come with you! Suuure, make me an angel. Make me someone I am not. Then I can be good enough for you, yeah?” He sighed. “Shit... He still thinks I'm evil.” Crowley said the last words in a low voice and paused after that. Tears were rushing to his eyes. “Do you think... He was lying? All those times when he said we could be grey or deep down I was actually nice? Were they all lies?”
The man stared at him in silence. Crowley waited for an answer, but the man wasn't likely to talk. He sighed and stood up, grabbing his glass. He drank the rest of his whiskey and threw the glass away. As the sound of shattering glass filled the bar and everyone jumped on their seats, Crowley waved his hand to make them forget everything and stumbled to the door. He stopped at the outside, eyes directly landing on the bookshop’s window.
There was light coming from the inside. He couldn’t even remember his own name, but he’d never forget this place. It was where his home was. A familiar sense filled the insides of Crowley, something pure and someone full of love. The smell was different, but it was better than nothing.
He took a step closer as it started to rain suddenly. Maybe, just maybe, he was there. Maybe he came back, and he was waiting for Crowley. Maybe Crowley could go in and find him there, sitting on his sofa and reading a book like he never left. The rain got faster. Crowley crossed the street and carefully opened the door, not slamming it like usual, quiet like a hunter who didn’t want to scare away their prey.
He wandered around the bookshop, and then, he had seen someone. There was someone on the sofa, reading a book, wearing a beige suit. They didn’t look like Aziraphale, no golden little curls, no big chubby body that made Crowley want to hug so badly just to feel his softness, no sky blue eyes behind some reading glasses. They didn’t even smell like Aziraphale, no freshly baked biscuit smell coming from his table, no ethereal musk, no blonde woods and no dusty Bible accord. But still…
“Angel?”
The person on the sofa jumped from their seat, and the book they were reading fell off from their hand. They looked at Crowley and then, the fear disappeared. “Oh, Mr. Crowley,” they said, nervously smiling. “You surprised me.”
“Who are you?” Crowley frowned. He was slightly swaying, too drunk to stay steady.
“Uh, y-you know me? Don’t you remember? I’m Muriel, 37th—“
“Ah, yes… Right, you’re the little one. Yeah, I remember. So, you’re still here, that’s weird. Why are you even looking after the bookshop? They could just destroy the place.”
As Crowley waddled around, looking at the shelves, Muriel was watching him carefully. “I… I’m here to replace Mr. Fell and this bookshop is my base. Why would we destroy it?”
Crowley was rooted to his spot. So, they had replaced him, he wasn’t gonna come back. “I see,” he said, trying to sound reckless but not even looking at them. “Good for you.”
“Thanks!” Muriel smiled again.
“Alright, I only came here to get my stuff. You can go back to your work.” Crowley clenched his fists when Muriel nodded and sat back on Aziraphale’s sofa as if it belonged to them. He looked around, his vision was a bit blurry but he didn’t need to see anything to know where the furniture was. He could find his way even if he was blindfolded.
There were memories everywhere. So many of them. Some were good, some were painful. And they were there, the ghosts of his past. Aziraphale’s reading glasses were on the table, he could still smell Aziraphale from them. Some of the books he loved reading, Crowley could imagine him reading them while he sat on his sofa. He’d reread the ones he loved the most over and over. The backroom door. The times they had shared in there. Drinking wines, laughing at meaningless jokes, and having the best of their lives. He wanted to keep all of them, he wanted to take all of them with him, but you couldn’t grab a memory and put it in your car’s trunk.
Nevertheless, Crowley tried his best to take as much as possible with him. He took the eyeglasses, his teacup, his favourite novels. He didn’t go upstairs, but he went to the backroom. The whole room smelled like Aziraphale’s cologne, like he was right there, hiding. Crowley groaned with desire and pain and longing. He felt weak, he wanted to lay down there and just smell him until his lungs filled with Aziraphale’s smell permanently. He wanted his angel back, he needed his angel back.
Crowley took the rest of Chateauneuf de Pas and left the room. “I’m leaving,” he informed Muriel, keeping his voice low so he didn’t quaver. “One last thing…” He paused, not sure if he should say it or not. Aziraphale wasn’t going to come back, after all. He didn’t need to keep his stuff safe for him, and also if he cared about them, he wouldn’t leave. But yet, he couldn’t help himself. Whatever Aziraphale loved, Crowley loved too. This place and all this stuff were important to him. This place was sacred (it was, literally, but that’s not what Crowley means) and he couldn’t bear to lose it. “Don’t sell any books, don’t give them away, don’t lose them and don’t harm them. Books are flammable, so don’t use real candles inside. If something happens, there are fire extinguishers up there. Be kind to the books.”
“Oh? Wait, okay…” They grabbed a notebook to write down his words, quickly scribbling. “Thanks, Mr. Crowley!”
“Don’t thank me,” said Crowley, icily. “Good luck on Earth.”
With that, he left the bookshop for good. Obviously, he kept visiting the coffee shop across the street but he had never gone inside. He was too scared to find out the place didn’t smell like his angel anymore.
Hereby, he stopped drinking too much. It wasn’t helpful anyway. But now, he needed a drink. He needed lots of drinks. He had to drink until he forgot everything because Aziraphale was back.
It was Nina who called him in the early morning. Apparently, Aziraphale came to the bookshop, and had a little time inside there, after that he visited Maggie and then finally, Nina. He asked her about Crowley, where was he and how was he doing. Nina, thankfully, was a smart woman. She didn’t tell him where Crowley was or how miserable he was.
What Crowley didn’t know was that Aziraphale could be very insistent when he wanted to be. Obviously, Crowley didn’t know that, because Crowley had never rejected him, not even once. Well, maybe once.
“I just want to see him, even from afar, he is my only friend,” said Aziraphale to Nina. He had learned from Muriel that Nina kept in contact with Crowley. He had helped her before, and now, he hoped she’d help him. “Please?”
Nina was also stubborn, but she gave up eventually. She told Aziraphale that she could set up something for him, but only if he promised he wasn’t gonna hurt Crowley anymore. Of course, Aziraphale wasn’t planning to hurt him. He had never actually wanted to hurt him in the first place. He promised her.
What Crowley did know was that he wasn’t gonna go anywhere near the bookshop anymore. He didn’t want to run into Aziraphale. He didn’t want to see him. But of course, he wanted to see him. So badly that he might have died if he didn’t. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Nina was up to something when she, out of the blue, invited him to a pub close to the bookshop that night. He knew Aziraphale would be there. Crowley wasn’t ready to face him, he was scared of making a fool of himself, like he always did when it came to Aziraphale, but he said he was going to be there.
He was so weak, so pathetic that he hated himself for it. He was still desperately head over heels for him. But it was Aziraphale, how was he supposed to say no to him? Especially when this could be his last chance to see him once more. Yes, he knew that, too. That Aziraphale was only visiting, he was going to go back to Heaven, because he was an important angel now. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. He probably had important stuff to take care of, more important than Crowley. Aziraphale was someone important while all Crowley did was whine like a toddler. He had probably moved on already, after all, nothing lasted forever. Only Crowley stayed there, right where Aziraphale left him.
In the late evening, almost one hour before their planned time, Crowley was already waiting at the door of the pub. Just because he couldn’t wait at home anymore. Outside the pub, his whole body was shaking with nervousness, he was peering around behind his sunglasses. First, he didn’t see anyone familiar in the crowd of people. The street was far too busy for an hour like this. But then, it happened.
The smell of his angel. It was so powerful, burning his lungs. He felt like he was out of breath, even though he didn’t need to breathe. After a horribly cold year, Aziraphale’s smell felt like a summer sun on his skin. His eyes quickly spotted those beautiful golden curls at the other end of the street.
His plan was to stay calm, being cool and acting like he didn’t want to see him. But his body failed him. His feet betrayed him, taking steps on their own. His eyes were fixed on Aziraphale, he couldn’t tear them away. It’s like he was in a trance. Aziraphale’s smell pulled him towards himself. He felt like he was floating in the air. However, it didn’t last long.
Aziraphale spotted him, too. His eyes met for a split second, and then, the angel broke the eye contact and started to run away. Crowley froze for a moment. His mind was racing through the worst scenarios possible. Did Aziraphale not want to see him? Did he change his mind?
“Angel!” He shouted behind Aziraphale. Oh no, he thought. I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. I want to see you. You won’t leave me again.
Thankfully, Aziraphale was a slow runner. So when Crowley started to chase him, he easily caught up with him. He grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and stopped him. Aziraphale turned around, out of breath and in tears, and their eyes met again. At that exact moment, it started to rain. Because those sky blue eyes, if only he knew how much Crowley had missed them, were shining with cruel tears. It was a heart-wrenching view, truly, Crowley would rather die than not see Aziraphale in pain.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured as he smiled. Raindrops wet his face. “Oh, hello.”
“Hello?” Crowley was too stunned to say anything other than repeat him. Hello? Really? It has been one year and three weeks, but Aziraphale’s first words were only ‘hello’? Like nothing had happened? He was completely frustrated. A mighty lightning flashed in the sky. He repeated again, more hotly this time, “Hello?!”
“I— Uh… I wasn’t expecting to… talk to you,” Aziraphale stammered. His face was as red as his eyes. It was obvious that he was nervous. When he realized that he wasn’t gonna get an answer from Crowley, he continued, “I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”
Crowley smiled bitterly. Had Aziraphale never known him? “You think so?”
“Well, last time… You said…” He gulped before he continued. “You said ‘don’t bother’ and hopped out.”
“Huh.” Crowley bit his lip, his eyes were burning behind his sunglasses. “I didn’t, you did. I waited.”
Aziraphale bowed his head, breaking the eye contact. His hair was soaked, Crowley wanted to touch it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The street was so loud and Aziraphale’s voice was so low, but it didn’t matter. Crowley would always hear him, all this time, he only heard him. “I truly am sorry, my dear.”
Crowley finally released Aziraphale’s arm. He took a step back. He wanted to run away, he wanted to scream. An apology wasn’t gonna change anything. It wasn’t gonna fix or erase the memories of one year and three weeks. That painful and lonely one year and three weeks. Even if it did, it wasn’t gonna make the lonely future ahead of him better. “Go back to Heaven,” he said, coldly.
Aziraphale looked up at him, wailfully. “Do you want me to go?”
Crowley clenched his fists, throat dry. “Yes,” he said. His voice was cold like ice, even he didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice steady. Because he couldn’t even keep his tears as they were running down his cheeks. “I want—“
Aziraphale interrupted him. “I can’t.”
“What?”
“I can’t go back,” he said. He took a step ahead and got closer to Crowley. “I don’t want to, and I have already resigned.” Crowley tried to ask him why, but Aziraphale kept talking. “I don’t know why I accepted it in the first place. I mean, after when you didn’t want to go.” Crowley frowned. “No, right, I never should’ve accepted it in the beginning. But you see, I thought you’d be happy about it.”
“Me? Huh.”
“Yes. I— Well, you were happy when you were an angel.” Aziraphale stated, raising his eyebrows.
Crowley shook his head, he couldn’t believe what Aziraphale was saying. “No,” he hissed. “I was happy when I was alone with you.”
“Oh, Crowley…”
“Don’t,” Crowley hissed again. He pointed his finger against Aziraphale, taking steps back but Aziraphale kept coming at him. “Don’t say it.”
Aziraphale caught his hand with both of his hands, gently held it between his and brushed the cold skin with his thumbs. His hands were warm despite the cold and rainy weather. “Crowley,” he murmured, his voice was soft. “Forgive me.”
He felt like he had been electrocuted. The words stabbed in his chest like a knife, taking his breath away. “Why?” His voice was low, trembly.
Angel’s lips curled with a little smile. “‘Cause you are right. I was happy when I was alone with you.” The smile faded, and a new tear fell off from his eye. “But I was an idiot, like you said. I hurt you because I was hurt myself, too.” His grip on Crowley’s hand tightened. “You rejected me, I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“You rejected me, angel.” Crowley spat, grimacing. He felt an urge to yank his hand away, but Aziraphale’s warmness was radiating through his hands and flowing inside him. It felt so good.
“I wanted to be with you! I said I needed you!” He slightly shook his head, sighing. “I’ve never wanted to go without you.”
“But you did,” whispered Crowley. It was the only fact. Whether he did or didn’t want to go, it didn’t matter because, in the end, Aziraphale had left him. “You left… me.”
Aziraphale pulled their united hands closer to his chest. “I’m sorry, dear.”
Crowley couldn't take it anymore, the whole talk was so stupid he didn't even know why he was there. He freed his hand from Aziraphale's grip and said, “You can't make this up with a ‘sorry.’” Even though he wanted to forget everything and move on, he had learned a lot in the past year. Ignoring problems only led to bigger problems. And Crowley was in no state to deal with any more problems. “I want you to fully understand that you and I are on our own. We don’t have anyone else, we will never have. If you want to… be my friend again, you can’t leave again. Because I can’t come after you anymore.”
There was a long silence. The rain was soaking Crowley's sunglasses and obstructing his vision, hence he missed the hurtful expression on Aziraphale's face. Crowley's anxiety grew as the silence dragged on, his mind telling him that Aziraphale was about to reject him again. Finally, Aziraphale broke the silence and whispered, “…Be your friend?” Aziraphale gave a bitter smile and stepped back, putting distance between them. “Yes, of course, I want to be your friend again.”
“We have to talk about things. We have to be honest and… uhh, I don’t know, just be more understanding, I guess? Try to see things from each other’s perspective or something like that.”
Aziraphale looked at him blankly, trying to understand what he was talking about. “Sorry, where did you hear these?”
“It’s… urgh… It’s not important. The point is we have to be more clear about what we think or what we want. Or I’m out.” Crowley put on his most serious tone and folded his arms on his chest. In the past, acting recklessly to people wasn’t very difficult due to years of practice of running away from his feelings, but in the last year, it has become quite difficult to do so. His tears from before had already blended into the rain, but even his own words were hurting him. Still, he needed Aziraphale to know that he wasn’t kidding and that they needed to solve this. “Do you understand?”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “I— I do hope so,” he said. “I will clarify everything I do and say from now on.” He paused for a moment. “I have to clarify something.”
“What is it?”
He looked around for a while before answering, and then asked in a low voice, “Before that… May I?” He was pointing to Crowley’s sunglasses, reaching closer without even waiting for approval. Crowley wanted to say no but to be honest, he couldn’t see shit with them, and he awfully wanted to see Aziraphale’s face properly. So, he let him. Aziraphale took them off and put them in his coat’s pocket. “There you are.”
Crowley gulped. He felt unguarded, insecure. But the smile that formed on Aziraphale’s face after this was the prettiest thing Crowley had ever seen. They were close, so close that he could feel Aziraphale’s breath. His stomach hurt as he thought about the last time they were this close. Everything people said about the one perfect kiss had to be a lie because it didn't fix anything, and on top of that, it hurt him even more.
“Crowley,” said Aziraphale with his softest voice. He slowly stroked Crowley’s cheek, his short beard didn't seem to bother him. His touch burned Crowley's skin like fire—or in his case, like holy water. “I— How can I say? I, uhh… I don’t want to be your friend, I mean, not just friends. I want to be with you. As… What do humans say? As… lovers?”
“What?” Crowley felt like he was choking.
“I want to be with you. I want to be us, but not like before. More than that. I don’t wanna be a team, I want to be a couple. Do you see? I… I just… Want to be like Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth! Dancing in the ballrooms, kissing under a rainstorm.” Aziraphale's eyes sparkled. A raindrop fell from the tips of his eyelashes onto Aziraphale's lips. Crowley's eyes unconsciously followed the drop, and they landed on the angel’s lips.
“You mean that?” He felt hot, his face was completely red. Even his hair was much more ginger than ever now. He wasn’t aware of that, but Aziraphale seemed pleased with the view in front of him.
“I do,” he murmured. Aziraphale rose on his tiptoes and placed his other hand on Crowley's shoulder. A moment later, their lips were connected again.
Both their lips were wet from the rain, and not just that, they were completely soaked. But it didn’t matter. Even though they did know nothing about what they were doing, it was perfect. After their tragic first kiss, he had no idea that a kiss could be able to make him feel like this. In the end, humans were right: One perfect kiss under the rain, and it was done. He was done.
He folded his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, tightly holding onto him like he was afraid that this might be a dream and Aziraphale could vanish in the air.
He didn’t need to breathe, but after Aziraphale broke the kiss, Crowley was gasping for air. He opened his eyes and suddenly, he needed more air because of the sight in front. Aziraphale was staring at him with his flushed pink cheeks, lips parted open and wide irises. Then, he blurted out those three words he had been keeping inside for so long, “I love you.”
With that, a wide smile spread across Aziraphale's face, revealing the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. His fingers on Crowley’s cheek moved to his lips and brushed them softly. “My dear,” he murmured. “I love you, too.”
This was it. This was his Heaven. It only involved one angel, his angel.
He felt the tears forming in his eyes again, but this time it was due to happiness. Weird thing, as a demon, you were supposed to not be truly happy, but here he was, the happiest demon, hell, the happiest living in the whole universe. He sobbed and held onto Aziraphale’s waist even more tightly. His head fell on his shoulder, burying his face there. “Is this a dream,” he asked, weakly. “Tell me it’s real.”
“It’s not a dream,” said Aziraphale, embracing him and patting his back. “I love you and it’s real.”
Crowley was shaking with the feelings he had been trying so hard to bury in his heart all these centuries. Now, his heart was striking back, bringing all the longing and love to the surface. “I missed you,” he confessed. He felt braver when he was hiding his face. “My angel.”
Aziraphale flinched. He gently pushed Crowley away to see his face. “What did you just say?”
He bit his lip, averting his eyes from the angel’s gaze. “I— I said… my angel.”
Then, Aziraphale giggled. It was so pure, so joyful. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat with the sound of it. He smiled giddily. “You know, Crowley,” said Aziraphale. “I’ve always dreamed of this, but I’ve never imagined you’d look this silly.”
“I do not look silly,” said Crowley, defensively. But in truth, he didn’t mind. He could be silly as long as it made Aziraphale giggle like that again.
“Say it again.”
Crowley blinked. “You liked it that much?”
“Maybe,” he said, pursing his lips and trying to hide his smile. “Say it.”
He was amazed. He’d never dreamed of something like this. If only he knew that Aziraphale would like it so much, he’d say ‘my angel’ all along. “My angel,” he repeated. “Let’s go home.”
Aziraphale giggled again. Crowley felt like he was about to faint. “Don’t you have to meet Nina? She’s been waiting for you there for over ten minutes.”
“Ughhh, fuck! Okay, okay, I’ll text her something’s come up. Let’s just go home.” Crowley released Aziraphale’s waist involuntarily to grab his phone from his jeans pocket. As he started to write a text message with one hand, Aziraphale took his other hand and it almost made him drop his phone on the ground. He looked at Aziraphale who was still smiling brightly, “Are we holding hands now?”
“It looks like we are,” said Aziraphale, tightening his grip on Crowley’s hand. “Now, home. My bookshop or your place? I sent Muriel back to Heaven, told them their job here is done, for your information.”
“Oh,” murmured Crowley, raising his eyebrows. The rain had stopped just in that moment. He grinned. “Our bookshop, then. Our car is down the street.”
They started walking side by side, still holding hands. It felt unreal, but so right, so natural at the same time. He quickly wrote a message to Nina that said ‘Plan is off, we’re going home’ and shoved his phone back into his pocket just to raise his head and see the shocking view. The Bentley, his beloved car, was right there, in black and yellow colours. “What. Is. That?”
“Oh, that’s… our car, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said, innocently.
Crowley turned to his angel to complain about it, but when he saw Aziraphale’s face, he fell silent. The angel’s eyes were fixed on the car, fascinated. Crowley tilted his head and exhaled in defeat. “Yeah,” he said, laughing softly. “Our car.”
The moment when Crowley started their car, a song started playing on the radio. It was a song they both knew very well and the lyrics said:
‘I may be right,
I may be wrong,
But I'm perfectly willing to swear
That when you turned and smiled at me
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.’