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    Summary

    God, he loves Aziraphale. It’s the only thing he’ll ever be sure of. And he is so, so tired.
    Would it really be so bad to give up just a little piece of himself (another one)? To make Aziraphale happy (again)?
    There’s a box somewhere, deep within him, rotten and black and full of his pain and secrets. He pulls it out now, dusts it off, and gently lays the thought Aziraphale will never understand the real me within it. Then he bangs it shut, does up the locks, and lets it sink to the bottom. Enough.

    Or: Crowley makes a very different decision, and they communicate about it even less.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,107
    Chapters:
    2/?
    Comments:
    16
    Kudos:
    80
    Bookmarks:
    16
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