Work Text:
Once created by
light, now he clings
to darkness–
he hides eyes behind
darkened glass,
gravitates to shadows.
Thousands of years
he skulks, turning
his face away.
Except for one spot of
brilliance.
He cannot
shy away
from Aziraphale.
Even when it hurts
he’s drawn to
the angel,
a moth
to the eternal flame.
It burns.
Every time,
it burns.
And he regrets
nothing.*
For when the angel
smiles,
Crowley doesn’t just see
stars.
He sees
constellations.
*Part of this is just his demony way of life. “Regret Nothing.” …But not all.