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One second Crowley was on the other side of the room, ready to leave the bookshop, and the next he was pulling Aziraphale by the lapels of his coat. The demon pressed their lips together, a final attempt at tempting his best friend, his lover, the only being in all of existence who had ever wanted -loved- him as he was. A “faulty demon” who was not good enough for Heaven and not wicked enough for Hell. He had tempted the angel so many times and it had never failed so he pushed his luck, praying to whomever would be listening that his friend would give in.
And Aziraphale almost did ,oh, how he wanted to pull Crowley in, to let him consume his soul, to fall in the pleasure and feeling of fulfillment he could give the angel if only he would let him.
And for a moment he allowed himself to do just so, to forget about the threats that spilled out of the Metatron’s mouth. Aziraphale let his eyes flutter close, his hand over the demon’s back. He had to fight against his will to wrap his arms around the demon, to kiss him back and show him that the angel is his.
Aziraphale had committed many sins throughout his long life, being desperately in love with a Fallen wasn't one he was ashamed of. He would scream his love at the top of his lungs if only he could, if he were allowed to. But God has never been one to go easy on those who disobeyed Her.
He recoiled in on himself as he realized that. God only knows what she would do to them if she knew of that kiss. Only She knew of the threats, the Damocles sword that hung over Crowley’s head. Aziraphale had to go, he had to leave the bookshop, to leave Crowley. He had to follow the Metatron's words if only to keep his best friend, his lover safe.
When Crowley broke the kiss, putting distance between them, Aziraphale was gasping for air. Full on panicking. His eyes danced around the room, unable and unwilling to look at the demon’s face. When Aziraphale had finally mustered the courage to look at Crowley he crumbled internally. Crowley was waiting for a reaction, for an answer to his silent question “Will you stay and love me like I love you?”. He wanted to, of course he did.
“I l-” the angel caught the words before they escaped his kissed lips. ‘I love you’, three simple syllables that he had longed to say for centuries, millennials. And now that Aziraphale finally had made peace with that feeling he couldn’t express it, couldn’t risk Crowley’s existence. Because if he said those syllables out loud what little was left of his resilience would be teared down and he’d say no to Heaven.
And Crowley’s name would be erased from the Book of Life.
So Aziraphale swallowed his love, his desire to stay with the demon and cherish him. He put on a strong facade, a wall that -he hoped- would protect him from the devastation that would be prominent on Crowley’s face. “I forgive you” he said, barely above a whisper as if, if he said it louder it would make it real. Make his lie real.
His wall was apparently not enough because when Crowley’s face fell then Aziraphale’s heart broke. If his lover’s whole existence wasn’t in danger he would’ve dropped to the floor, begging the forgiveness of the demon the same way he had asked for forgiveness countless times from God. This time he felt like he would never deserve to be forgiven.
Crowley seemed to resign to his fate, to his eternal life without the angel by his side. Aziraphale hated how he couldn’t see his amber eyes and the emotion they contained. But he knew more than enough about how Crowley felt with three words, way different from the ones he tried to keep himself from muttering mere seconds ago.
“Don’t bother.”
Aziraphale felt the real weight of the situation and of his actions when Crowley left, when he was alone in the bookshop. Because now that he had broken the demon’s heart and his own he was completely and utterly alone with himself and his unforgivable sin.