Chapter Text
Just as the tears stained his face so did the rain. It fell to the ground in a roar, carrying the pain of the world through each pounding drop. It was so powerful Crowley could feel the thunderous beats in his heart and through every step he took. He could feel the squish of water in his socks. The cold liquid started to bleed through his clothes. Crowley’s neck itched with the falling of the water, and without an umbrella, the rain ruined his hair and soaked his clothes. The wet fabric clung to his skin, the felling getting increasingly uncomfortable as he ran throught the streets of London.
Even though he was struggling to think of anything but the water soaking into his skin, as he got closer to the bookshop Crowley didn’t dare to be even a little concerned about his clothes. His eyes were locked on the store and they wouldn’t leave until he knew the letter was right.
His tears had stopped falling as he made his way to the doors, he was thinking about nothing except the blinds over the windows and the sign on the door. Crowley shouldn’t have thought anything of this. The shop was closed more than it was open, and yet today, as the wind whipped on Crowley’s back and the rain hammered in his brain, Crowley was scared. He was afraid of what the other side of the doors may or may not hold. However, it wasn’t just the absence of Aziraphale he was afraid of. Crowley was terrified himself. The letter made it very clear there was only one person he could blame for the angels disappearance. And only one person he could blame for Aziraphale’s fate.
His breathing halted as he unconsciously reached for the handle. It rattled in his hand, the doors refusing to open. Crowley still didn’t take a breath. He moved his hand up the the doors surface and knocked. It was a slow quiet knock, one soft, as to not disrupt the quiet of the bookshop. He knew there would be no answer, yet, he softly took his hand away from the door, and without thinking, he knocked again. It was a quick rap on the door; his heart stopping between each hit.
When Crowley didn’t get an answer, he looked down at his shoes and counted how many days had passed since the “end” of the world. It wasnt nearly as many as it should have been. Just last week he was sure they had made it over the one year mark, but, as the days flashed by him again, Crowley realized he had been way off. His fears had become reality.
Crowley tried to remember the day in the park. It was after the stunt the both of them pulled, he had been waiting for Aziraphale. Crowley was exited to see how well it went for the Angel. He had always loved seeing the excitement on Aziraphale’s face. As he watched the street—waiting for the angels bright smile—Crowley felt a chill radiate from the top of his neck to the bottom of his spine. It had made his heart stop. Crowley had to actively tell himself to breathe as he sat there. His hands began to shake, his breath becoming unsteady. Crowley pulled at the tartan collar around his neck. His leg started to bounce on the grass, he needed to tell Aziraphale what was about to happen.
When Aziraphale finally rounded the corner he was beaming. The angel clearly had some fun tormenting the demons. Crowley gave a small smile back. He cracked his knuckles against his knee and let in a sharp breath, he couldn’t let Aziraphale know. It was information so crushing the angel wouldn’t be able bare it. Crowley wouldn’t break Aziraphale’s heart. So as Aziraphale sat down next to Crowley, he decided he’d fix it on his own. He’d make sure nothing would happen to Aziraphale.
Crowley had been sure the angels wouldn’t be able to do anything after a year. The two of them would be to removed from angelhood and demonship for the higher ups to even be able to find the two of them. Crowley was sure he could fix everything before the year was over, and he thought they were in the clear.
However, as he milled the days over in his head Crowley quickly realized he had been off, way off. The pit in his stomach grew as he remembered all the times he had over counted.
The first, was the time he and Aziraphale had reorganized the entire bookshop. Crowley was sure it had been over two weeks before they reemerged into real life, though, looking back he knew that was wishful thinking.
The second time, Crowley and Aziraphale had traveled around the world. He thought they had been gone for over four months but as he remembered each day they were on the road, Crowley realized he had skipped so many weeks the trip couldn’t have been more than 8 weeks.
It was a crushing feeling, knowing he had failed. Crowley did everything to delay the inevitable. He had tried to get more good deeds for Aziraphale to do, making sure he was the one who completed each one. But Crowley knew it wasn’t enough, he knew the only thing left to do was to pray. It wasnt one of his greatest ideas. Crowley could get in a lot of trouble for just looking at a church. Trying to talk to god? That would surely get him discorperated. Yet he was willing to take the risk head on, especially if it was to help Aziraphale.
Unfortunately as their days grew longer the sinking feeling in Crowley’s chest grew stronger. He truly wanted to believe the Angel would be okay, but as he stood there Crowley realized he was never going to succeed. You couldn’t stop a fall from so high when they were already so low.
Crowley didn’t come back to reality until the squelch of water in his shoes had become so disgustingly obtrusive he had, for a split second, forgotten where he was. As he remembered why he had been standing in the rain for almost half an hour, Crowley stabbed his finger nails into his palm. He hated himself for forgetting, even if it was just for a second. His fist had closed so tightly a small trickle of warm thick blood fell down his hand. As the red mixed with the water on the step, Crowley became distracted by the desaturation of the liquid. So distracted he hadn't recognized the pain crawling up his arm. When he finally did—for the first time in what felt like hours—Crowley took a breath. It was a sharp quick breath, one you might take through your teeth. A breath that would cause someone to keel over, gasping for air; just a single breath. The sharp pain entering the lungs would bring a person to their knees, but Crowley refused to move. He had shown no signs of discomfort except the tensing of his shoulders, and the only one who had ever noticed when that happened was Aziraphale.
Crowley finally got the courage to miracle the doors open.
As he stood there, refusing to step past the trim, Crowley scanned the shop. His fingers twitched against his leg. He checked for misplaced books, and dust that might have been pulled up from unnecessary movements. He couldn’t see everything from the doorway, but it was enough to get his shoulders to relax and his breath to grow steady. No one had touched Aziraphale’s things.
“Sir? Mr. Fell left just yesterday. His shop isn’t open.”
Crowley quickly turned around, jumping at the sudden noise. He stumbled back, foot crossing the silver trim on the ground. He was too late. Much too late.
“He- Well I’m-“ Crowley stumbled over his words, searching for something to say, “I’m watching the shop for him while he’s gone.”
Crowley had said this too fast. He could hear the panic and evasion in his words, but the pounding in his chest told him to ignore it. The lady who had confronted Crowley raised an eyebrow, her face full of concern. Crowley smiled back, trying to convey any sense of friendliness. However, his smile was more of a smirk, and there was nothing genuine about it. Though, the lady didn’t seem to notice and smiled back.
Crowley quickly shut the door in her face and turned back to the bookshop. He ignored the huff from behind the door and took a deep breath through his nose. It was the first good breath he had taken in what felt like hours. The smells of the bookshop began to calm his nerves. As he took another breath, the corner of Crowley’s lips turned upward. He gave himself one more breath, letting the smell of Aziraphale soak into bones. He quickly let his expression fall back to a blank stare and let the pit in his stomach return.
The dust was so thick Crowley thought he could feel the fuzz in his nose. He chose to neglect the sneezing feeling beginning to form in his sinuses and scanned the shelves.
He could tell the lady was right, it had been barley 24 hours since Aziraphale had left the shop. There was a very full coffee cup on the desk, and an open book next to it. The only thing stopping Crowley from believing Aziraphale had only stepped out for the evening was the lack of his presence.
The library smelled of him yet he could tell the Angel was no where to be found. It was a suffocating feeling; the library without Aziraphale.
Crowley took another deep breath and began walking up and down through the shelves. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Maybe just a sign he was wrong. But as the shelves started to close in on him Crowley knew nothing was out of place. It was almost as if the angel had disappeared.
Crowley immediately knew his wishful thinking had gotten to him again. He was right, and he had been right since the day in the park.
Crowley leaned against the books, his soggy back drenching everything it touched. He cupped his hands to his ears and slid down to the floor. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath. Tears began flowing down his cheeks, his eyes red with pain. Crowley couldn’t help himself from yelling as he scrunched on the floor. The bookshop had begun to suffocate him, yet, it had never felt so empty
The sweet smell of rain flowed into the bookshop. Crowley focused on the sound it made against the windows. The pounding syncing with the beats in his chest, it becoming so loud a cough escaped him. He took one small final breath and whispered to no one in particular.
“Fuck.”
It was so quiet he could barely hear himself over the rain. But nothing truly mattered as he sat there, letting the heavy feeling take him. He leaned against the wall, it catching him as he began to fall apart. Crowley let his eyes grow heavy. He hoped that when he awoke the Angel would be there to wish him good morning.