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Aziraphale and Crowley returned from their dinner out. Crowley had been silent the entire ride home. Aziraphale feared he had done something to upset the demon. When they entered the bookshop, Crowley immediately sank into one of the couches.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale started.
“Same lips red, same eyes blue,” Crowley said, gesturing to Aziraphale. “Same black shirt, couple more tattoos. But it’s not me and it’s not you.”
Aziraphale looked down. “It sounds like something I used to feel,” the angel said.
“But it’s not me and it’s not you,” Crowley said, tears forming in his eyes, behind his glasses. “Tastes so sweet, looks so real. But I can’t touch what I see.”
“We’re not who we used to be,” Aziraphale said, trying to make Crowley feel better.
“You’re right, we’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me. Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”
Unsure of what to do, Aziraphale went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for some wine or something. Crowley came in too. Aziraphale pulled a bottle of red wine. He left the fridge door open, making it the only light in the kitchen.
“The fridge light is really making this white paint stand out,” Aziraphale said, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah…” Crowley said, snagging a wine glass from the counter. “This was all we used to need,” she said, remembering Rome and all the times before the St. James Park incident.
“We’re telling those stories we already told, cause we don’t say what we really mean,” Aziraphale said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh you know… obviously there are things both of us are holding back from saying.”
“Fine. I’ll say what I’m thinking. We’re just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty, trying to remember how it used to be.”
“I’m trying Crowley. I’m remembering things all the time and trying to put them together,” Aziraphale said, tears in the angel’s eyes.
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just hard some days to remember everything and you remember nothing,” Crowley said, removing their glasses finally. “I don't think I can do this right now. I’m sorry. Maybe after everything, but not right now.”
“O-oh ok. I get it,” Aziraphale said. “Good night Crowley.”
“Good night, Aziraphale.”
After Crowley had left, Aziraphale broke down. The one person he loved, had left him. Everything hurt and it was all emotional. What was he supposed to do? “I’m just trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat,” Aziraphale whispered to himself before passing out on his bed