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“I forgive you”
The words rang like sirens in his ears; A broken record that wouldn’t stop playing no matter how hard he tried. Lone in the upstairs of the bookshop, with only the now-empty bottles of alcohol for company. Only a small sliver of blue light dripped through the closed curtains, Crowley sat on the floor of the dark bedroom reminiscing on the past 6000 years.
Their last conversation felt like an anchor - a weight pulling on his legs, dragging him deeper and deeper into the salty sea of his own sorrow. The dark green-blue surrounding him, small fish snaking through his hair, little plants intertwining his fingers - keeping him locked to the seafloor. There was no point in breathing anymore - he could no longer see the surface.
An ache clawed at the side of his head, slowly creeping to his neck, his chest, all down his body. What time was it? What day was it? How long had it been since he’d last been out of this room? Whatever it was, it felt like an absolute eternity. An absolute eternity since he had last seen the face of his friend, his best friend (If he could even call him that now).
Even with a fogged memory, Crowley could picture his face perfectly; At this point, it might as well have been permanently burned into the back of his eyelids. The way his soft white curls fell on his face; The way the corners of his eyes wrinkle when he smiles a smile that lights up the entire room. He was the single brightest star in Crowley’s night sky. He was beautiful, gorgeous. He loved everything about him. Every little detail, every little flaw, every little thing he did, Crowley loved it. He loved how fussy he’d get over his clothes, how he’d fidget with the end of his worn-out waistcoat. He loved how happy he’d get whenever he ate good food. He loved watching him sit at his desk, his fingers gingerly leafing through one of his old books, his body glowing in the sunlight flooding from the window.
Maybe he couldn’t see the stars anymore, but why would he need to with Aziraphale around?
Thoughts of Aziraphale had flooded Crowley’s mind. He was drowning, submerged in a fantasy. Oh, what he’d give to see him again. What he’d give to be able to reach out and pull him into an embrace; Their bodies melting, molding together into one. He could stay there forever - in the warm, safe, comfort of the one he loves so dearly. His face fitted perfectly in the space between his neck and shoulder, nose buried in his hair, taking in his familiar scent of old paper and sandalwood. Their fingers weaved together like a beautiful tapestry; Each strand of wool a different moment that they had shared together.
Tears peeked into the corners of his eyes. “Fuck,” he said in a cracked voice, barely a whisper. Face buried in his hands and knees. “Aziraphale what have you done?”