ArkDanvers

I think

I think I'm going to cry

♤♤♤

Where was he?

Crowley thought that silence was painful, when he and Aziraphale sat down and couldn't hear a noise. You would get the delayed ticking of the clock that hangs on the far side of the room, and the beating of your pulse against your skin. This pain made him want to beg to a god he didn't believe in to give him that silence, the peaceful quiet that was once there.

This pain was something he wanted, though, as he had inflicted it on himself.

♤♤♤

Aziraphale was smiling, like always. He was sitting close to Crowley, arms around his torso. His blue eyes were closed peacefully.

The demon had stopped smiling a while ago. He didn't find it necessary to show his happiness outwardly like that, a first of his mistakes.

Aziraphale took it the wrong way, like most things, and decided (without consulting Crowley) that perhaps he wasn't making Crowley happy.

"Angel, wake up."

"What's wrong?" Asked Aziraphale, which had not actually been asleep.

"I'm tired too," he said, looking down from behind his sunglasses.

"Oh," said the angel, smiling. "Are you going home or would you like to stay here?"

"Well, if it's not a problem," Crowley started, blinking rapidly, a nervous tick he had picked up in Rome. "I'll just crash here."

"No problem at all, dear," Aziraphale smiled brightly, standing up and going to find some sleeping materials.

Crowley smiled, finally. After Aziraphale had left, which was another mistake. If Crowley never smiled in his presence, then how would Aziraphale know he was happy? It really was just a whole big mess.

But Aziraphale ignored the sinking feeling in his chest and went back to the couch where Crowley was lying down. He threw the blankets on top of him, and set the pillow on top of his head.

"There you go," Aziraphale sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Good night, dear."

"G'night," Crowley yawned.

The lights flickered off, and all he could hear was the creak of the bookshop's wooden floor.

♤♤♤

Crowley was awake. The same sound as before, someone walking down or up the stairs. But he noted the noise was getting closer, so it was probably just Aziraphale getting water or something.

He tried to sleep again, ignoring the quieting footsteps. Crowley was about to drift off, but he suddenly felt warm breath on his face that smelled like peppermint.

Cautiously, Crowley opened his eyes, and the angel that was kneeling in front of him jumped ten feet in the air, yelping.

"Angel?" Said the demon, sitting up. "Why are you awake?"

"I don't sleep, remember?" Aziraphale smiled nervously. "You don't have to either...."

"I like it," Crowley frowned. "What did you need?"

"It was nothing, really..." he mumbled, standing up. "Er, I guess I was a bit lonely."

"Well, you could join me on the couch," offered the other, lifting his arm up to welcome him.

Aziraphale smiled and laid down next to Crowley, pressing his face into his chest, smiling just as brightly as earlier. Hugs were a good invention, Crowley thought.

A few minutes later, Aziraphale shifted, so he could see Crowley's face. To his (un)surprise, he was still awake, staring right back at the angel.

Aziraphale smiled, making Crowley's heart squeeze.

Crowley traced his bottom lip lightly with the tip of his finger. It pouted slightly, and he had an urge to bite it, to kiss it, and to never let him go again. He leaned in, their noses brushing as Aziraphale closed his eyes lightly. Crowley narrowed his own eyes, enveloped in the moment and forgetting why he couldn't do this.

But then he pulled away, leaving Aziraphale uncertain again. Was he not enough?

"I," the demon's voice was raspy. "I have to go... to the bathroom..."

Crowley felt guilt as he walked away. Perhaps he should have kissed Aziraphale, even though he knew the consequences.

♤♤♤

It is truly amazing how every time someone feels emotional pain, it doesn't hurt as a cut or a bruise would. It's just this heavy feeling, deep in your chest. Your head becomes light, almost like a balloon, and it's as if your tongue feels too big for your mouth, making you swallow more than is needed. You feel the need to wipe away non-existent tears that you want to form, but they just wont.

Aziraphale was sitting on the edge of his bed. Crowley obviously wanted to breakup with him, but didn't know how. If... if he did it... then Crowley wouldn't have to.

He glided down the steps easily, closing his eyes when he reached the bottom. There was an odd energy filling the house. It was not the usual cozy, loving feeling. It was depression and guilt and grief.

The demon he wanted to talk to was slouching in a dining room chair, his head leaned back. His sunglasses were starting to slide off his face.

"Morning, dear," Aziraphale said kindly, sitting across from him.

"Morning," Crowley said, moving to a more comfortable position to talk.

"I wanted to tell you something... it's important," Aziraphale swallowed, a lump building in his throat.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," He said quickly, looking down from Crowley's face. "Well I guess there is, really. I don't... I don't think I can..."

"Can what...?" The demon pushed, resting his elbows on the table.

Tension filled the air so thick you could cut it. With a sword, perhaps. Or scissors. Whichever you fancy.

"I c-can't be in this relationship anymore," Aziraphale rushed, standing up. "I'm sorry, Crowley, I just can't."

"What?" Said Crowley, also standing up. "That... That doesn't make any sense! Is this because I didn't kiss you!?"

"No! Yes! More than just that!" He said, his eyes starting to water. "I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore."

"I can't kiss you because you'll-" Crowley stopped. He couldn't even tell him, that was the deal with Gabriel. "You know what? Fine. Good luck finding another demon or angel who will love you like I do."

Crowley vanished into the air. Aziraphale was stunned, not because of his sudden disappearance, no, but because of what he had said.

Demons didn't love. Did they? Crowley had just admitted his love, though, and Aziraphale was thoroughly confused. He fell back into his chair, miraculously getting dressed in his usual clothes. He loved Crowley, he knew that much for sure.

Perhaps he was wrong about him.

♤♤♤

Crowley laid on his stomach, in bed, glaring at his phone. It laid silent on the nightstand. With a groan he rolled over. Aziraphale didn't want him. Aziraphale didn't want him.

The same thought read over and over and over in his head: Aziraphale doesn't want me.

Crowley had no purpose, now. His one goal was to make the angel happy, and he had just failed him and himself. There was no reason to drive around in the Bentley unless Aziraphale was there to drive with. He didn't need to care for his plants if Aziraphale wasn't there to see how immaculate they were, thanks to yours truly.

There was no point. No point at all. So, Crowley returned to hell full time. He gave up on trying to stop the antichrist. And Aziraphale never saw his face again.

♤

the end!