Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Look at the new kid, AJ. Look at the clothes he's wearing, please, it's ridiculous.”

Crowley turned to look at the boy who had just entered the class while Ligur laughed.

It was the first day of school, so everyone was keeping an eye on new students. Ligur glared avidly at each person who crossed the classroom door, making nasty remarks about their looks and stretching out his leg to make some of them stumble.

“There's no fucking way,” Hastur snorted. “Is he really wearing a bowtie? What an idiot…”

“Give him a break, guys,” Crowley said, looking at the boy with fake empathy. “He's probably one of those rich kids who's never had to lift one finger in all his life. I guess it's our duty to show him how things work here, don't you think so?”

“Can we go and stain his ridiculous jacket? He's definitely asking for it…”

Crowley smirked. The truth was that his friend was right. The boy had come to his first day of school dressed in cream colored pants and a blue shirt, and of course the most ridiculous accessory: a tartan bowtie. That outfit was basically a neon signal for people to mess with him, and Crowley had a reputation to maintain at school as the biggest bully of it all.

If people feared him, then no one asked him questions.

“I say we beat him till he cries,” Ligur said.

“You're not being creative, guys. Everything you two are saying, we've already done it hundreds of times before…”

Hastur pushed him.

“Do you have a better idea then, AJ?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“Oh, no, here comes the new kid,” Ligur groaned, pointing at the boy with his chin.

Crowley asked himself for the second time today if that kid had any self-preservation instinct. Firstly, he came dressed like that to his first day in a new school, and then he had seen Crowley's gang and had decided that it was a magnificent idea to go say hello. Hadn't he realized that his friends were the kind of people that punched you just for fun? Hadn't he noticed their hateful glances, or their dark clothes full of aggressive sentences, or the tattoos that covered their bodies?

Crowley rolled his eyes when the boy stopped in front of then, adjusting his bowtie nervously.

“Hello,” he said, offering them his hand. He was smiling so broadly that his entire face seemed to light up. “I'm Aziraphale, nice to meet you. I'm new here, so I wanted to introduce myself and…”

Crowley looked at him from top to bottom. Aziraphale was a bit shorter than him and plump. His hair was light blond, almost white, and even though it was obvious that the boy had tried to comb his curls they were sticking in every direction, like the ruffled feathers of a bird. But what caught his attention was Aziraphale's eyes. They were such a deep blue they reminded him of the sky.

“Aziraphale?” Hastur laughed. “What kind of name is that?”

Aziraphale blushes slightly, but he just let out a nervous laugh too and shrugged.

“It's an angel's name actually,” he starts to explain, oblivious to the danger he had gotten himself into. “It appears on the Bible in…”

“We don't care. Go away, rich kid,” Ligur barked. “We don't have time for you…”

Aziraphale's smile faltered, and Crowley felt a bit guilty when the boy shut his mouth and lowered his still extended hand. It was his first day there, and Crowley understood how hard it was to be the new kid. He had been the new kid just a couple years ago after all.

“I… Erm… I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Stop being so fucking sorry and go bother others,” Hastur snorted, waving a hand. “Fucking fag…”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, but then he closed it seconds after, clenching his jaw tightly. His eyes found Crowley's in search of some kind of help or compassion, and Crowley wanted to laugh in his face.

What help was that kid expecting from him? The only thing he knew in this life was breaking things. He broke the windows of his teachers’ cars, he broke tables and sometimes ribs in bar fights, and he broke noses if people stared at him for too long. He had destroyed his family, and also his future.

However, that boy looked at him as if, for once in his life, Crowley could do something good. And the truth was that he hated the feeling that Aziraphale's glance left in his chest, as if there was a caged beast there clawing at his ribs to free itself.

So Crowley did the only thing he could do at that moment. He raised an eyebrow with a smirk and stretched out his hand.

“AJ.”

“Sorry, what was it?” Aziraphale asked, staring at the outstretched hand with utter confusion.

“My name. I'm AJ.”

“Oh, yes, silly me! My pleasure.” Aziraphale shook his hand and gave him another bright smile, one that Crowley accepted with a nod.

“Now you can fuck off, mate,” grumbled Ligur, staring at the joined hands of Aziraphale and Crowley with disgust.

Aziraphale let him go after a few seconds, smiling at him once more.

“I, erm… Yes, I'll leave… Bye, AJ!” he said, waving his hand.

Crowley nodded stiffly and watched the boy leave much happier than before. That was new. Most people left Crowley in a foul mood or with a broken nose, and usually both at the same time. No one had ever left with a smile on their face.

"Bye, AJ," Ligur mocked in a high and feminine tone.

“AJ, I think you've got a new admirer,” Hastur said with a grin. “That asshole has fallen head over heels for you…”

Crowley blinked surprised.

“What?”

“It's gonna be so funny when you break his heart.” Ligur elbowed him. “That's what you meant when you said we had to be more creative with him, right? That's why you've introduced yourself and you've stared at him like that…”

Crowley frowned. Stared at him like what? He hadn't looked at Aziraphale in a special way. However, he couldn't tell his friends that. They thought Crowley was a genius, and they were probably the only ones in the universe who believed that, so he had to play it cool and act as if he had everything under control.

“Exactly, Ligur. My plan has just started.”

“I can't wait to see him whining and crying in every corner because you broke his heart…”

Crowley grinned, but there was something similar to guilt in his chest. That boy had only been nice to them, and here they were, plotting a terrible way to hurt him. However, he buried that feeling deep down in his heart, as he always did. Being a good person led you nowhere. The universe never gave you anything in return for being good, it simply beat you over and over until you decided to give up. Being kind, understanding and generous only ended up in you being the one with the black eye.

“Now that we've settled that, who wants to go burn some bins after classes?” Crowley said.

The cheerful shouts of his friends were everything Crowley needed to feel better with himself. He wasn't a good person, but Hastur and Ligur thought he was the best, and that was more than enough for now.

§§§§

“He-Hello, AJ,” Aziraphale said, clutching his backpack straps with one hand and waving with the other. “Is it taken?”

Crowley raised his head from the table he was half laying in and grumbled. His head hurt like hell and he hadn't slept at all, so he wasn't in the mood to deal with the new kid. Not when he had to win his heart only to break it after.

But Ligur and Hastur hadn't appeared today at school, and that meant that his plan could wait until another day, one in which Crowley felt a little bit more evil and less worn out.

“Nope. Feel free to sit here if you want.”

“Perfect! Thank you very much, really. I was a bit worried, you know. I don't know many people here…”

“Mhm,” Crowley grumbled, closing his eyes and massaging his temple.

When he opened them again, he met his classmate’s worried gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am. I'm always alright.” Crowley flashed him a mocking grin.

“Are you sure? You look a bit pale…”

Crowley was about to shout at Aziraphale to make him shut up, but his brain was too busy trying to understand why that boy was worried about him. They didn't even know each other, for Hell's sake.

Since he was little, Crowley had learnt that no one was kind to you without expecting anything in return. His mother hugged him because she expected that Crowley would stop crying then so she could get drunk in peace, and his father dried his tears after screaming at him for hours. The old woman from the sweetshop gave him a lollipop if Crowley cleaned the shelves, and the man at the corner let him try some new pills if he promised to buy him more.

And there was Aziraphale, rummaging in his backpack and shooting him worried glances from time to time. What did that boy wanted from him? Protection? Sex? Reputation?

“I've got exactly what you need, AJ,” Aziraphale announced with an excited smile. “Look!”

Crowley stared at the thing that Aziraphale had pulled out of his backpack.

“Is that chocolate?”

“Of course yes! Chocolate is the answer to everything, it's scientifically tested.

“Oh, yeah? By whom?”

Aziraphale sat very straight on his chair, his chin slightly raised.

“Me, obviously.”

Crowley couldn't help it. He let out a laugh that sounded more like a snort and shook his head.

“A great scientific study, there's no doubt.”

“It is!” Aziraphale pointed at the chocolates. “Try it yourself, please. Take one ounce, come on. In fact, take all you want. You look like you need them.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Is it poisoned or something like that?”

“Of course not!” Aziraphale said, horrified.

Crowley didn't understand what was happening. What was wrong with that boy? Why did he look worried about Crowley? Why was he offering him chocolate? Why was he staring at him as if he wasn't afraid of him, as if Crowley was something else than a monster?

All those questions were making his head throb even more, so Crowley decided to silence them by taking some chocolate and putting it in his mouth.

“Do you feel better now?” asked Aziraphale with a smile.

For a second, Crowley felt tempted to pick up the chocolate and throw it at Aziraphale's face. If Ligur and Hastur were they, he would have probably done so, just to show them he was still cruel and selfish.

But he was tired and his head hurt and his friends weren't there, and for once in his life someone seemed to care about him. So he couldn't help but grin at Aziraphale, with less teeth and more truth.

“I do feel better, yeah. You're a genius, Aziraphale.”

And if his head stopped hurting a bit when Aziraphale gave him the brightest smile he had ever seen, no one else had to know.

§§§§

“I don't know how can you stand him, AJ. It seems as if he has a stick up his ass.”

“He'd probably enjoy that, wouldn't he?” Ligur said.

“Oh, yes, he would. And he's been here for three weeks and no one has torn that fucking bowtie off his neck.” Hastur frowned, pointing an accusing finger at Crowley. “If it weren't for the plan, I'd do it myself.”

“Give me some more time, guys. The wait will be worth it, I swear.”

Ligur punched him in the arm, and then let out an incredulous laugh, pointing at Aziraphale.

“Is he waving at you? I can't believe he's actually waving at you in the middle of the canteen…”

Crowley felt how his cheeks turned red when he saw that, yes, Aziraphale was actually waving at him excitedly from the other side of the canteen. Crowley hesitated for a moment and then waved back reluctantly.

“How's the plan going, by the way? Is he madly in love with you already?”

“More or less. We're spending lots of time together at class, so…”

Aziraphale had taken the whole permission to sit next to Crowley quite literally. Every day, when Crowley arrived at class, he found the boy already sitting at the table, reading a book and nibbling whatever he had brought for breakfast that day. Aziraphale never spoke to him until he finished the chapter he was reading, so Crowley didn't say anything either. He just dropped his body on his chair and laid down on the table.

“Do you want some?” asked Aziraphale every time when he had closed his book, signaling at his breakfast.

Aziraphale always brought more food than he was going to eat in case Crowley was hungry. Some days, Crowley was weak and he accepted the offer. Most of them, he hid his face on his arms and listened to Aziraphale speak about whatever crossed his mind that day. The boy didn't seem to mind that Crowley didn't pay attention to him, and he was more than happy to receive some incoherent grumbles as an answer. If Crowley felt specially sociable and Aziraphale's cheerful attitude soaked in, he turned his head and answered with proper sentences. Then, Aziraphale smiled at him as if he had said something wonderful.

“It's going well”, Crowley added. “I think he's starting to trust me.”

“AJ, don't start with that trust bullshit. You're not here to befriend him. You're here to fuck him and then break his heart,” Hastur hissed. “Or have you started to feel something for that idiot?”

“Of course not. He's a rich kid who doesn't know how lucky he is, just that,” Crowley said calmly. “But I can't go and ask him out directly, because he would never agree. I have to go slowlier, understand his weak spots, and then…”

“A month, AJ,” Ligur interrupted with a grimace. “That's all the time you've got to do things your way. And if in a month you haven't succeeded, then it's our turn to have fun.”

Hastur started to laugh, and Ligur did too a moment later. Crowley forced himself to smile, even though his friends’ laughs made him shiver. He knew firsthand what they were capable of, and he had also helped them to beat up strangers, but for some reason his stomach turned when he imagined Aziraphale on the floor, being kicked and punched mercilessly. There was no doubt, all that chocolate was damaging his brain…

He had to win the boy's heart as soon as possible. One month wasn't much, and the sooner he broke Aziraphale's hearts, the better for both of them.

§§§§

Crowley ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. He could hear the desperate beating of his heart and his hands were sweating. He didn't even understand why he was so nervous, but he wasn't able to calm himself down. He rested his head on the table with a groan, hating the universe for leading him there.

But it was already settled. He was going to ask Aziraphale out for a date.

After another week in which they had spent the classes whispering to each other and laughing quietly, Crowley knew that it was time to risk everything. He didn't know for how much longer he'd be able to stand Aziraphale's kindness or his worried gaze or the casual touch of their shoulders. He didn't know how many more times he'd smile back at the boy without accepting that there was some truth in that. He didn't know for how long he'd be able to endure the warm feeling that settled in his chest each time Aziraphale looked at him as if he really saw him.

“Anthony, have you done your Literature essay?” Aziraphale's voice said next to him.

“What?” Crowley answered, lost in thought.

“The Literature essay. Have you written anything?”

And there was another small problem, one that had prompted Crowley to speed up the last stage of his plan. Aziraphale had started to call him Anthony.

No one called him Anthony. Not even his parents had called him that. He'd always been “Tony” for his mum and “son” for his father, and even “Crowley” for himself. His friends called him “AJ”, and that was the reason he was known as AJ by the whole school. But now, Aziraphale had started to use Anthony. As if a name that magnificent could belong to a street rat like him.

“It's AJ…” Crowley mumbled to himself.

“You can copy mine, if you like,” Aziraphale offered, oblivious to everything.

Crowley turned to glare at Aziraphale with a blank stare. The boy's eyes were filled with so much kindness that Crowley had to look away, overwhelmed.

“I'm not gonna hand in any essay, Aziraphale. Do you think I'm the kind of person who hands in essays?”

“I think you're the kind of person who could write amazing essays if he wanted,” Aziraphale said. “Why don't you even try?”

“Doing homework is for losers. I've never done them, and I'm not gonna start now.”

“Well, that's a shame. I'm sure you'd do an amazing job. I know for certain you've got interesting things to say, Anthony…”

Crowley snorted, pointing at his head.

“Me? Not at all. There's not a single thought here…”

Aziraphale pressed his lips but didn't back down. It was almost cute to see how much he cared about making Crowley feel valued. Most times, he wanted to scream at him that it wasn't worth it. Not with Crowley, never with him. It was rotten work, and someday Aziraphale will realize it and he'll leave like everyone else before.

“I'd read an essay written by you,” Aziraphale confessed, almost as if it was some kind of secret.

“You wouldn't like it, trust me. You'd probably stop talking to me if you knew what goes on in my head.”

“Why?” Aziraphale frowned. “You're the only one who has wanted to be my friend here, Anthony. And you're not getting rid of me that easily…”

Crowley nearly started laughing then. That boy was so naïve, he couldn't even imagine what Crowley was going to do to him. He didn't know he was using him to destroy his heart later, he didn't know that he only pretended to be his friend because of his stupid plan, and what's more, he didn't know how much he hated himself for all of that.

In Crowley's humble opinion, good was an absurd concept. No one was absolutely good, because everyone was motivated by their own interests. Even though there were people who helped others, they only did it to feel better with themselves or to use it as a bargaining chip later, not because it was an act of pure kindness. Good didn't exist, and neither did evil.

However, Crowley had to admit that Aziraphale was the closest to good he had ever known. With his soft voice and his kind and warm way of speaking, with his stupid bowtie and his smiles and his worry for Crowley. With the scarf he had given to a woman who was cold and his way of feeding Crowley every morning. Always willing to lend a hand to help someone and with words of encouragement ready on his lips.

Sometimes, Crowley asked himself how many people had been cruel to Aziraphale in order for him to be so kind.

However, that didn't matter. Couldn't matter. Because if Aziraphale was goodness incarnate, Crowley was evil. That same night he had shattered the windows of a house only to entertain Ligur, and then he had drunk whatever Hastur had offered him until he had found it funny too. And now he was there, sitting next to the first person who had treated him as if he was a human being, and he was going to ruin his life only to earn the respect and approval of his friends.

“Anthony? Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, shaking Crowley out of his thoughts.

Crowley forced himself to smirk at him. He had a mission to fulfill, he couldn't get distracted. He was going to ask Aziraphale on a date, he was going to make him feel like the most important person on the whole world, and then he was going to break his heart into pieces.

“I was just thinking,” Crowley said. “Surprisingly, that's something I can do…”

“And what were you thinking of?”

“Well, I've got one brilliant idea.”

Aziraphale's eyes twinkled, and he shook his body excitedly.

“What idea?”

“You said I couldn't get rid of you so easily. So you leave me no other choice…”

Aziraphale froze for a few seconds, and his eyes lost their usual light. He straightened his bowtie and his shirt solemnly, as if he was preparing himself for disaster. Crowley could hear his own heart beating in his ears, an insistent tune that reminded him of the tic tac of a clock.

“You don't have to say anything.” Aziraphale sighed. “I understand. Thanks for letting me sit next to you these days, it's been such a pleasure, AJ… I'm sorry if I've been a burden, I won't bother you anymore…”

“What? No, it's not that!” Crowley said hurriedly. “You're a good classmate, Aziraphale. But the thing is…” Crowley gulped, bracing himself for what he was about to say. “I'd like for you to be more than that.”

Aziraphale stared at him with wide eyes. He looked like a deer frozen in front of a car, or a kid caught making mischief. Once more, Crowley felt a pang of guilt for what he was going to do to that boy.

“Would you…? I mean, is it possible that you…” Crowley ranted, nervous under Aziraphale's gaze.

“Anthony?”

Crowley breathed deeply. He was an excellent liar and he had always been good at manipulating people with his words, why couldn't he form a coherent sentence now? Why did Aziraphale always make him feel like a fool?

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” he said at last.

Aziraphale opened his mouth once, twice and then his entire face lit up with a smile. Maybe it was just the light, but Crowley could swear he saw the shine of tears in the boy's eyes.

“Do you really mean it?” Aziraphale mumbled.

“Of course I do! Nothing could make me happier right now.”

And Crowley realized with horror that he really meant it. He wanted to go on a date with Aziraphale, take him to a fancy restaurant and watch as the boy smiled at him as if Crowley was the maker of the constellations and the planets. He wanted to listen to him talk about everything and nothing, because then life seemed worth it. He wanted to gift him sweets and roses, even though he'll never admit it out loud. Because, for some reason he couldn't comprehend, he wanted to make Aziraphale happy.

‘You're becoming a sap and a softie, AJ. No one wants to be close to a sissy like you,’ whispered a voice in his head, and it sounded like his friends but also like his father.

“If you're making fun of me, Anthony, you can stop now…,” Aziraphale said, still looking at Crowley incredulously.

Of course he was making fun of Aziraphale. And it was a cruel joke, because Crowley would rather pretend to be someone he wasn't to hear the laughs and praises of his friends than listen to what his heart was screaming at him since the moment Aziraphale had laid his eyes on him.

“It's not a joke,” Crowley said with a dry throat. His hands were sweating and he felt his chest tighten and his ribs constrict. “I really mean it, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled softly and put his hand over Crowley's. Crowley tensed, feeling his skin burn under Aziraphale's touch, and he could nearly hear the sound of his own heart breaking when the other boy spoke with shining eyes.

“I've never been on a date before. It will be my pleasure, Anthony.”

Crowley forced a smile, even though each fiber of his being was begging him to go away, to not do it, because Aziraphale deserved better than this. But if he was good at something after so many years, it was at burying his chest under layers and layers of indifference. Kindness would take him nowhere.

“Then we've got a deal. I promise you this is gonna be the best date ever,” Crowley said, and at least he really meant that.

Chapter Text

For the twelfth time in five minutes, Crowley looked in the mirror at Ligur's home. He had changed his usual black leather jacket for a fancy shirt of the same colour. His red hair was styled in a way that made it look naturally ruffled but that it had actually taken him half an hour to get right, and he had even polished his best shoes. He was ready. He could go on that date and make Aziraphale utterly fall for him.

“AJ? Are you done?” Ligur called from outside the bathroom.

“Yeah, you can open the door!”

Ligur entered the bathroom and stared at Crowley for some seconds. Then, he cleared his throat.

“Tonight you're so gonna fuck him.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

“That's not the point. The point is making Aziraphale fall in love with me, not fuck him.”

“His loss then,” Ligur muttered, and then he seemed to remember he had Crowley in front of him and blushed slightly. “All this is just because of the bet, right? You wouldn't ever ask out a loser like that guy, would you?”

Crowley glared at Ligur. His friend was taller than him and much stronger, and his buzzed hair gave him a menacing look. He could never win him in a fight if he admitted that, maybe, he wanted to go on that date. That the whole plan was getting out of hand and that it was best to not break Aziraphale's heart.

“Of course not,” he answered instead. “What does he have to offer to me? Nothing, absolutely nothing. He's a sorry idiot, and we're gonna teach him a lesson.”

Ligur smiled at him in a way that made his skin crawl.

“That's my AJ! Go get him, man!”

Crowley nodded and exited the bathroom. Ligur followed him, patting his back abruptly.

“Now go and conquer that asshole once and for all,” Ligur said while Crowley got on his motorcycle.

Crowley winked at him, just to see how Ligur got flustered.

“I will, don't worry!”

Aziraphale lived nearby, but he had asked Crowley to wait for him at a corner a couple blocks away from his house. Crowley understood why. He doubted anyone would be happy to see their child holding hands with someone like him, because he was the kind of boy parents warned you about. And from what he had gathered, Aziraphale's family was wealthy and well-known, so he had even more reasons to not want to be seen next to a street rat like Crowley.

Aziraphale was already waiting for him when Crowley stopped his motorbike at the meeting point. He was wearing his usual attire, including the bowtie, but Crowley had gotten used to the old-fashioned looks of the boy long ago. Now, the tartan bowtie was even endearing.

For Someone's sake, he was becoming a softie.

“Hello, Anthony!”

“Hey there, Aziraphale. Are you ready?”

Aziraphale nodded with a big smile and he straightened his bowtie, even though it already looked perfect.

“More than ready!” his smile turned soft. “Thank you so much for asking me out. It's my first date ever, so sorry if I'm not the best of companies.”

Crowley could feel how every fiber of Aziraphale was jumping excitedly, and he had to swallow to undo the know that had formed on his throat. Of course he didn't feel even a bit of remorse for agreeing to this blasted plan, of course not…

“Don't worry, Aziraphale, I'm also not very used to this,” Crowley said. “What's more, I think this is my first traditional date.”

“Then we're even!” Aziraphale said relieved. “Did you have any place in mind for the date?”

Crowley pointed to his motorbike backseat.

“Just trust me.”

Aziraphale stared at the vehicle as if it was some wild horse about to send him to the floor as soon as he rode it.

“You surely don't mean we're going on this…”

“This is ‘Bentley’, Aziraphale. My motorbike. I've been riding it for years now, and it's perfectly safe. So yes, we're going on this, so hop on, there's no time to waste.”

Crowley offered him a helmed, and Aziraphale took it after a few seconds.

“I've never ridden a motorbike…”

“Just hold on tight to me and keep your ass on the seat and you'll be fine. I'll drive carefully, don't worry.”

Aziraphale climbed behind Crowley and he put his arms loosely around the slim waist of the other boy, as if he was afraid to crush him. Crowley snorted and placed Aziraphale's arms correctly around him so that his hold was stronger.

“Do you wanna fall or what? Don't be shy, Aziraphale…”

Crowley couldn't see his face, but he knew that Aziraphale's cheeks were burning when the boy leaned a bit closer to him. Crowley smiled to himself before starting the engine, thinking absently about how good Aziraphale's arms felt around his body.

When they reached their destination, Ezea was holding onto Crowley so tightly there was not an inch of separation between their bodies. Aziraphale was letting out some terrified whimpers, and he had his face hidden in Crowley's back.

“Everything alright there?” Crowley asked taking off his helmet.

“I think I'm going to throw up,” mumbled Aziraphale, his voice muffled because of the helmet.

“Don't do it inside the helmet then, please.”

Aziraphale took off the helmet, revealing a mop of messy curls and a sweaty forehead.

“I'm not riding a motorbike ever again.”

“Are you gonna walk back home then?”

Aziraphale sighed.

“No.”

“Then there's no other way than riding ‘Bentley’ again. I'll go slower this time, I swear.”

“I hope so!” Aziraphale exclaimed hysterically. “You can't do ninety miles per hour in the city! You're going to get us killed!”

“I'm not! I'm a very good driver, there's no real danger or…” Aziraphale glared at him unimpressed. “Alright, yeah, sorry. I'll make it up to you with this date, I swear.”

After hearing this, Aziraphale visibly calmed down and smiled again. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand without thinking and tugged at it carefully.

“Follow me, we're nearly there.”

Crowley had booked a table at an Italian restaurant that he had found on Google. He didn't usually go to restaurants, because he had no spare money to spend, and most times he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he forgot to eat. But he knew that Aziraphale loved going to fancy restaurants, so he had chosen that place because it was the best one for first dates according to Google.

Crowley knew he had gotten it right when he saw Aziraphale's amazed expression when he entered the restaurant. Some tables were placed in their own private corner, and the waiters put candles in the middle to give it a cozy atmosphere. Aziraphale stared with shining eyes at the dishes of the couple dining in front of them, and Crowley had to admit it looked delicious.

“Did you have a reservation?” a waiter asked them.

“Yeah, I'm Crowley.”

The waiter flipped the pages of the notebook, checked the name and then led them to their table. Aziraphale sat down in front of Crowley, still looking in awe around him.

“Thank you, Anthony,” he whispered without staring at the boy, blushing.

“Don't thank me. I told you it was going to be a special date, didn't I?”

“It's just that… I can't believe it. No one had ever wanted to go out with me, you know?” Aziraphale let out a sad laugh. “Most people think there's no point in getting to know me, and they are right. After all, I've got six older siblings who are much better than me in everything, and I…”

His bottom lip trembled slightly, and Crowley prayed that he didn't start crying. He wasn't sure if he could bear the sight of Aziraphale sobbing in front of him.

“Aziraphale, listen…” Crowley started, but Aziraphale didn't hear him.

“I'm only the black sheep, the gay brother, the sensitive and soft one, who will never achieve anything because he's too scared to even try.”

Crowley had noticed that one of Aziraphale's biggest weakness was his low self-esteem. The boy wasn't able to see how many people were inspired by his kindness, nor the way he made others feel safe and seen. It was something that had made it easier for Crowley to get closer to Aziraphale, but it was saddening to know that Aziraphale really believed all those things without a shadow of a doubt.

Crowley knew how hard it was to feel like you belonged nowhere.

“Hey, none of that here. Is that how you're gonna make sure we go on another date?” Crowley tried to say jokingly, but his words were unusually soft. “You're supposed to tell me how amazing you are, not try to make me leave.”

Aziraphale stared at him with something close to fear, as if Crowley was about to do the latter at that exact moment. Crowley wanted to leave, of course, not because of Aziraphale, but because with every second that passed he regretted more and more what he was about to do.

“I'm sorry, Crowley. I didn't mean to be…”

“Don't worry, I know,” Crowley rushed to say, and in a sudden wave of bravery he reached over the table and put his hand over Aziraphale's. “Besides, all you've said is a lie. I wish you could see how amazing you are, Aziraphale…”

Crowley closed his mouth before he could embarrass himself further. He was becoming cheesy, for Someone's sake. He wasn't like that, he didn't waste his time comforting rich kids, and he certainly didn't hold anyone's hand. His tongue was a knife destined to hurt others, and his hands were rough from all of the punches he had thrown with them.

However, Aziraphale smiled at him so broadly that Crowley let himself believe that he had done something right for once in his life. Even if it was just for a second. Even if he was about to ruin everything.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand from Aziraphale's and put it in his lap again. It felt lonesome there, as if he had forced it to part from the only place it belonged.

“And now we're gonna order the food and we're gonna forget about all of this, alright? It's only us here, everyone else doesn't matter,” Crowley said with a small smile, mostly to Aziraphale but partly to himself. “Tell me, did you finish that book you were reading at school?”

Aziraphale visibly relaxed, and his eyes sparkled with the candle light when he started talking about said book. Crowley was more focused on Aziraphale's expressions and on the way his hands moved than on what Aziraphale was saying. There was something fascinating in Aziraphale, something that was most times hidden under layers of insecurities, and Crowley wanted to keep it forever when it shone through them. Maybe then he could show Aziraphale how beautiful he was.

The date went without any more bumps. As the minutes passed, Aziraphale relaxed completely and he became the kind and eager boy that Crowley knew. He made small remarks appreciating the food and he offered Crowley bites of his dishes so he could try them too.

“This sauce is scrumptious, Anthony!”

“I'm sure it is.”

“You have to try it!”

And Crowley did. He tried everything Aziraphale said, because it was supposed to be the best date ever. He had to definitely win Aziraphale's heart after all, or at least that's what he told himself each time he smiled back at Aziraphale.

And in what felt like the blink of an eye to Crowley, they had finished his food and they were paying the bill. They left the restaurant holding hands. Aziraphale was grabbing Crowley's arm, his cheeks red, while he laughed about some stupid thing Crowley had said. He couldn't even remember what they were talking about, but it didn't matter.

He felt happier than he had been in a long, long time. When he was out with Ligur and Hastur, his main goal was to forget about his shitty life. They got pissed, they destroyed some stuff and they got into stupid fights, and Crowley prayed for the alcohol and the adrenaline rush to be enough to drive away his demons for a while.

However, with Aziraphale he didn't need any of that to feel at ease. The sole brush of their hands was enough to ground him, and every smile of the other boy silenced his rushing thoughts. Crowley had never been next to anyone who made him feel like that, as if he wasn't something broken and designed to burn and destroy, but someone who had the potential to become better.

“If all the dates with you are going to be like this, I can't wait for the next one,” mumbled Aziraphale when they stopped in front of Crowley's motorbike.

Crowley smirked.

“This is only the beginning, Aziraphale…”

‘And the ending too,’ an annoying voice in his head said.

The plan.

Fuck.

He had to continue with the plan.

Crowley's mouth tasted bitter just by thinking about it. He didn't want to do it. He couldn't do it. Aziraphale didn't deserve any of that, not when he was the only good thing of Crowley's miserable existence.

“There's only one thing that could make it even better, you know?” Aziraphale said, taking him out of his thoughts.

Crowley forced himself to swallow the knot on his throat and to slow down the frantic beating of his heart in his ears. His lips were dry, and he observed how Aziraphale stared avidly at the way he wet them with his tongue.

“And what could that be?” Crowley asked.

“This.”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the collar of his shirt and, in a sudden bravery start never seen before, he kissed him. Crowley widened his eyes, surprised, and he froze completely under the soft touch of Aziraphale's lips on his. What was happening? What's this a dream? Had he died and gone to Heaven?

Aziraphale broke the kiss when Crowley didn't reciprocate it. He stepped back, playing with his hands and staring at the ground. Under the moonlight, Crowley could see that Aziraphale's eyes were welling up with embarrassed tears.

“I'm so very sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you, Anthony. I didn't know if you… This has been a great mistake, I'm so sorry.”

“Ngk, what?” Crowley managed to creak, even though his brain was melting.

“It was a bit rushed, sorry, this was only our first date and…”

“You…? You wanted to kiss me?”

Aziraphale dared to look into Crowley's eyes. He seemed more scared than ever before, and Crowley could almost read his mind. He was ashamed for having acted like that, panicking because of his impulsivity, terrified because of what his parents would think, sad because he thought that Crowley didn't feel the same.

“I've been thinking about kissing you for weeks, Anthony,” Aziraphale admitted softly, blinking to stop the tears from spilling.

So Crowley did the only thing he could do in that situation, the only thing he wanted to do in this world.

He closed the distance between Aziraphale and him, cradling his jaw carefully, and he kissed him. Aziraphale didn't hesitate for a second, kissing him back with a low sigh. His lips moved softly but surely against Crowley's, and he answered with a tenderness that was unusual for him.

And for a second, Crowley understood what being alive really meant.

Then, a voice made its way on his mind.

‘You're not here to befriend him. You're here to fuck him and then break his heart.’

‘And if in a month you haven't succeeded, then it's our turn to have fun.’

Crowley tensed under Aziraphale's lips. Suddenly, he felt dirty, as if he was spreading a deathly illness wherever he touched the other boy. And even though Crowley had broken bones and shattered glass with his own hands without feeling an ounce of regret, now he felt his stomach turn with guilt.

He couldn't do this to Aziraphale. Not when that beautiful boy called him “Anthony” softly, not when he offered him chocolate to cheer him up and he talked about everything and nothing even when Crowley didn't answer. Not when Aziraphale was kind and understanding and selfless and basically the best person Crowley had ever known in his miserable existence.

Crowley was a bad person, but even he had his limits. And those limits were blue sky eyes that reflected all the love on the universe and a smile so bright it made stars jealous, a hand on his shoulder that helped him breath easily, a sentence said to him and him only with a softness that he did not deserve.

“Anthony? Is everything alright?” Aziraphale asked, separating from him and looking at him with so much love it made Crowley feel like crying.

How could have he thought he would be able to hurt someone like Aziraphale? When had he become such a monster that the idea had crossed his mind?

“Aziraphale, I… Fuck, I…”

“If you want to slow down things, you can tell me, my dear,” Aziraphale assured him, taking Crowley's hand in his. “We don't have to do anything you don't want.”

That was the exact problem. Crowley couldn't do it. Fuck the plan, fuck what Ligur and Hastur thought of him, and most definitely, fuck himself. Crowley was tired of breaking everything he touched. For once in his life, he was going to do the right thing. Even if it meant that he ended up all alone once more.

“I have to go,” he managed to say, and the words felt like knives on his chest.

“What? Anthony, what's happening?”

Crowley wished Aziraphale slapped him right now, because that would hurt less than the worry he saw in his eyes.

“It's nothing,” he blurted out. “It's not your fault, alright? It's just… I have to do something.”

Aziraphale let go of Crowley's hand and hugged himself. He looked as if he wanted to crawl inside of his own skin, to become so small that no one could see him. And even then, Crowley couldn't stop looking at him.

“Was it that bad?” Aziraphale mumbled.

Crowley blinked and frowned.

“What?”

Aziraphale sighed.

“I told you. I'm not enough for anyone.” Aziraphale raised his head to smile gently at the other boy, although his eyes were filled with tears. “Thanks for the date, it's been one of the most beautiful things that has ever happened to me. Goodnight, Anthony.”

Aziraphale turned around and he started to walk down the street, moving so fast he seemed to be running away from him. Crowley couldn't blame him. Sometimes he wanted to run away from himself too.

“Aziraphale? Where are you going? Wait, please!” Crowley exclaimed, and he wanted to go after him, but his feet felt as if they had turned into stone.

He didn't get any answer besides Aziraphale's silhouette, becoming smaller and smaller under the streetlights.

When he managed to make his legs move, Crowley sprinted after Aziraphale. He ran and ran, until his lungs burned and his heart beated wildly on his chest, but Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen. He stopped under a lamppost, panting.

“Aziraphale! It isn't your fault!” he shouted to the empty street.

But Aziraphale didn't hear him. He had left because Crowley had fucked up once more. Crowley felt his eyes burn and his lungs constrict, and for the first time since his parents had kicked him out, he let himself cry.

Chapter Text

“AJ? You back?” Ligur said as he opened the door of his house.

Crowley prayed for the darkness to hide his bloodshot eyes and his wet cheeks. The last thing he wanted now was to answer any questions about why he was crying.

“Yeah. Aziraphale has already left and…”

“You two fucked then?”

“What?”

Ligur punched him on the shoulder and smirked mockingly. Crowley felt nauseous, and for the first time in a long time he wondered how he had ended up in that situation. When had he become the kind of person he had always hated as a kid?

“Have you fucked him? God, it must've been so disgusting. That guy looks like he's never had a wank in his life…”

“I haven't fucked him, Ligur, so do shut up,” Crowley barked, more coldly than he pretended.

“Hey, calm down, I was just asking. Why the fuck are you here then? Do you need to crash on my sofa again or what?”

Crowley stares at Ligur’s black eyes. They were so different from Aziraphale's, blue and bright like the summer sky. Ligur’s eyes were like an abyss, two dark holes that tried to suck his soul mercilessly.

Crowley knew which one he preferred. He had known it since the moment Aziraphale had spoken to him for the first time, and now he was even more sure of it because he couldn't shake off the feeling of Aziraphale's lips on his. So he spoke firm and clearly, without a trace of doubt.

“I'm not gonna do it.”

“What do you mean? You're not fucking Aziraphale?”

Crowley stood straight in front of Ligur, clenching his jaw. He could do this. He had to do this. Aziraphale deserved it, he deserved someone who loved him without excuses. And if there was any possibility of getting Aziraphale back, then he would do his best to make it happen.

“I'm not doing any of this. I'm not gonna continue with the blasted plan, and I'm not gonna hurt Aziraphale in any way. He doesn't deserve it,” Crowley said.

“Don't be a pussy, AJ! Don't tell me you've started to feel something for that boy…” Ligur laughed. “I know you. You're not like that.”

“So what if I don't want to be like that anymore? What if I wanna be better? I never asked to be this way!” Crowley shouted desperately, a question to whoever was listening.

Ligur closed the door and put a finger on Crowley's chest.

“Do fucking shut up! My family is sleeping inside, asshole.”

Crowley pressed his lips, and Ligur ran a hand through his buzzed hair while he shook his head. Then, he started laughing, and his laugh made Crowley's skin crawl.

“I can't fucking believe it, AJ. I always knew you were a fag, but I couldn't have imagined that you'd also be a coward.”

“So what if I'm queer? I'm braver than both Hastur and you together. You two think you're so powerful for intimidating others, and you're just pathetic! You hurt others just because that's the only way to feel better about yourselves!”

Ligur grabbed Crowley by the collar of his shirt and smashed him against the door.

“Shut your damn mouth, AJ. Do I have to remind you where you were before Hastur and I found you? You had nothing, you were nothing.”

“Don't you dare…”

“All you had was a backpack and a black eye. That was it, AJ. You were a sorry bastard without anything to offer to the world,” Ligur spat with venom in his voice. “You had no friends, no family, no place to sleep and no food, because you only managed to grab your backpack before your parents kicked you out. Do you wanna remember why?”

Crowley didn't need it. He could still hear his father screaming at him the day he was forced to leave his home, saying that no son of his would be a faggot, and he could see his mother's disgusted expression when he had begged at her to stay.

He remembered grabbing his backpack straps so tight that his nails dug into his skin, and the feeling of the October rain sliding down his face. His tears mixed with the cold raindrops, and Crowley had asked himself over and over why he had to be gay.

Later that day, he had found Ligur and Hastur. They were sitting under a house porch, looking bored and sharing a bottle of cheap alcohol. When they saw him walk by, pale and frightened, they had offered him a drink.

“Nothing like cheap whisky to solve all your problems, mate,” Ligur had said.

So Crowley had drunk, and he let the alcohol and the boy's presence erase the empty feeling on his chest. He had buried his feelings deep down, and he had promised himself that no one would ever make him feel powerless again. And that's how AJ was born.

“We took you in, AJ,” Ligur reminded him. “We let you stay at our homes whenever you needed to, and we ignored the fact that you're fucking gay. We made you who you are now, even if you were just a poor excuse of a guy before us. And now you wanna fuck it all up for a rich kid who will end up realising what a horrible person you are and who'd dump you then?”

“Aziraphale would never, he wouldn't…”

“He wouldn't abandon you? Please, don't be ridiculous,” Ligur snorted. “The moment he realizes you're fucked up and that you've done horrible things trying to forget about that he'll run away. And honestly, I can't blame him… Because again, you've got nothing to offer to the world. Is it really worth it to leave us for that asshole?”

For a moment, the exact time it took for his heart to beat again, Crowley believed everything Ligur had said. After all, how could someone like Aziraphale love someone like Crowley? The world didn't work like that. Aziraphale would end up living in a cozy house with a beautiful garden, happily married to a wealthy businessman, and Crowley would be dead at thirty at a random alley, with no one to attend his funeral. In the end, they both would get whatever they deserved.

However, Crowley thought of Aziraphale, as he usually did these days. He could see the boy running away from him, tears streaming down his face, and taste him on his lips, sweet and soft and gentle. But he could also picture him laughing because of something Crowley had said, smiling at him like the brightest sun, holding his hand without a single regret.

And Crowley realized that maybe, he didn't want the future that the world thought he deserved. He wanted the future that Aziraphale could offer him.

“Yes, it is worth it,” Crowley answered, firm and sure as he had never been before.

Ligur started to laugh so much that he had to stop to dry his tears.

“You're an asshole, AJ,” he said, panting. “After everything we did for you…”

“Thanks for taking me in, Ligur,” Crowley answered, and he did mean it. “But my place is no longer here. Don't worry about me, I have a small apartment in mind I can afford if i start working.”

“Oh, c’mon, AJ…”

“I wish you the best, and I hope someday you'll find a reason to stop being a piece of shit. Say bye to Hastur for me, will you?”

And with those words, Crowley gave a military salute and turned around. He started walking with his hands in his pocket, feeling light, as if a weight had been taken off him. He could hear Ligur shouting behind him, but this time he didn't look back.

Now he could only look forward and hope for the best.

§§§§

Next morning, Crowley went to school with a knot in his stomach and an apology on the tip of his tongue. He had expected to see Aziraphale sitting at their table, reading a book like he did each morning, but his chair was empty. Aziraphale, who had appeared at class last week with a stomach bug, hadn't come to school.

“You've fucked it up very spectacularly, Crowley,” he muttered to himself, falling into his chair.

Luckily, Ligur and Hastur didn't come to school neither, so Crowley managed to survive the day without a broken nose.

In the evening, he headed to Aziraphale's house and he took a quick look through the windows. He couldn't see the familiar blond curls anywhere, only faces that shared some features with Aziraphale but that seemed to be sculpted in stone instead of being bright and alive. Where had Aziraphale gone? Had something happened to him? Was he alright?

The knot in his stomach only got tighter and tighter as the days passed and Aziraphale didn't appear at school. Crowley even dared to approach a teacher on the fifth day and asked about Aziraphale.

“I don't think he's coming back anytime soon,” was the only answer the man provided, pressing his lips.

So Crowley brought a pen and paper and he sat on an empty bench at the park. Since he didn't know what to do, he decided to write a formal apology to Aziraphale. He didn't even know if he would be able to give it to the boy, but he needed to try at least. If there was even the slightest chance of things going back to what they were before, if he could just get his friend back, then it would have been worth it.

Crowley wrote and wrote, until his fingers hurt and the sun disappeared over the horizon. He told Aziraphale about his family, about the way his father had beaten to make him more of a man and the way his mother had let him do it, too lost in alcohol to care. He told him about how hard it was not to grow up with fire in your veins when your whole house was burning down around you, and how insignificant you felt in the world when no one cared about you. He told him about the night he had ended up on the street, about Ligur and Hastur, and about the things he had done with them to forget about the bleeding hole in his chest.

But above all, he wrote about him, about Aziraphale. He told him how much had meant to him every moment they had spent together and how he had changed his perception of certain things. He told him how he looked through his eyes, because Aziraphale deserved to know how wonderful he was, he deserved to realize that no one, ever, could compare to him. He told him that Crowley wanted to change, because Aziraphale deserved someone better, someone who tried to help him and to understand him and to make him feel safe. And Crowley wanted to be that person.

Crowley didn't sleep that night. When the city woke up, he folded the letter with utmost care and he headed to Aziraphale's house. Crowley breathed deeply and gathered all the courage he had before ringing the doorbell.

A man in his fifties opened the door, staring at him from top to bottom. Crowley was very aware at that moment of the image he gave, with his clothes rumpled after a night in the open and his hair ruffled in every direction possible.

"Sorry, we don't need anything," the man said with a forced smile, before making a gesture of closing the door.

Crowley put his foot in the middle before it happened.

“Wait, please! I don't sell anything. I just want to know if Aziraphale is home.”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you asking?”

“I want to give him something. I need to give him something,” Crowley emphasized. “Please, sir.”

Aziraphale's father didn't look very convinced. He took another look at his appearance and then pressed his lips into a thin line.

“Are you the boy Aziraphale went out with a few days ago?”

Crowley's mouth felt dry, but he forced himself to nod.

“Yes, sir.”

"Dear God..." Aziraphale's father muttered. “I knew my son was gay, of course I did, but I didn't know that he had such bad taste in men…”

“Is Aziraphale here or not?” Crowley interrupted him with a polite smile.

“He's in his room. He is packing the last things before leaving. It was all a bit rushed.” The man smiled at him, showing his teeth, although it looked more like a grimace. “I never expected him to go out with someone like you.”

“What do you mean by someone like me? A boy?”

“Of course not. I don't understand the lifestyle my son has chosen to follow, but I can try to respect it.” Aziraphale's father fixed his already neat shirt. “What I can't allow is for him to date someone like you, so I'm going to send him to a boarding school in which he can be surrounded by boys on his level.”

“On his level? Do you mean posh kids who have never learned to be grateful for what they have?” Crowley mocked. “Please don't make me laugh. Aziraphale is not like them.”

"I'm not going to tolerate my son going out with a lazy and dangerous boy, no matter how much he thinks he loves him now," the man told him coldly. “He'll get over it. He will find someone better than you, and he will be very happy. In a few years, he won't even remember your existence, and we both know that's for the better.”

Crowley imagined Aziraphale holding hands with a tall and handsome boy with perfectly combed hair, and his breath hitched in his chest.

“That choice it's not yours to make. It's his,” Crowley mumbles, and his eyes started to burn.

“I am his father, and no son of mine will date someone like you. I'm not going to let Aziraphale ruin his life, not for you. You are not worth it. My son is way above your league, boy. The sooner you accept it, the earlier both of you can continue with your lives.”

“But I… Please, you have to give me a chance,” Crowley begged.

“No. Aziraphale will leave today, and he will forget about you, and that is my last word.”

Crowley blinked furiously. He wasn't going to cry again, especially not in front of Aziraphale's father, even if his heart ached at the mere thought of never seeing Aziraphale again.

"Listen, boy," Aziraphale's father said, his tone much less severe, as he put his hand on Crowley's shoulder. “I know you care a lot about my son, and maybe you really love him, but Aziraphale has already suffered enough in his life. He lost her mother just a year ago, and he had to leave everything behind when we moved here because of my job. So please , let him go. Let him be happy, Crowley.”

‘i can make him happy!’ Crowley wanted to shout. However, he knew that Aziraphale's father was somewhat right. Crowley had to change a lot of things about himself before entering a relationship with anyone, and that was going to take him some time. However, he was willing to try, for Aziraphale.

"Can I ask you something then?" he said, and the words felt like defeat on his lips.

“What's it?”

Crowley took out the letter he had written last night and handed it to the man.

"Can you give this to Aziraphale? I promise I won't go searching for him anymore if you do.”

"Okay," Aziraphale's father agreed, taking the envelope. “I'll give it to him, don't worry.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The man entered the house again and looked at Crowley from the hall.

"It's for the better," he repeated, before closing the door.

Crowley stood for a few moments staring at the door intensely, as if Aziraphale would appear if he did so. When he finally gathered the strength to leave, he took one last look at the windows of the house, and his heart skipped a beat when he met a pair of very familiar blue eyes.

Aziraphale waved at him and smiled with tears in his eyes. Crowley smiled back, feeling as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest. Turning around was probably the hardest thing he had ever done before.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale stared at the ceiling of his room. He couldn't fall asleep, in part because of the screams and laughter of his fellow roommates, but mostly because his brain wouldn't stop torturing him with the last smile that Crowley had given him.

For the umpteenth time since he had arrived at the boarding school, he took out Crowley's letter from his pocket and read it. He almost knew the words on it by heart, but it was comforting to trace them with his fingers and imagine Crowley doing the same with his pen days before.

He missed him so much.

After his mother's death, Aziraphale had withdrawn into himself. He had almost welcomed the change of scenery when his father was assigned by his company to another city, because then he didn't have to think about his mother all the time. And in any case, he didn't have many close friends back home, so it hadn't been difficult for him to leave them behind.

He didn't want to be that alone in his new home, so on the first day of school he decided to make an effort to socialize with his new classmates. His hands were sweating and he felt a horrible pressure in his chest just by thinking about it, but he had to do it. And when Crowley introduced himself despite his friends' rude comments, he knew he had found someone he could trust.

Crowley was everything Aziraphale would never be. He didn't care about what other people thought, he was sarcastic and funny, he had impeccable style and a perfect body, and he never let others make him feel small. Crowley had complete control over his life, and Aziraphale admired him greatly for it.

And the most important thing was that, no matter how much he tried to hide it, Crowley cared about everything. He cared about his cruel friends, he cared about classes, and most of all, he cared about Aziraphale. Sometimes, he caught him staring at him in class, as if Aziraphale was something worth admiring. With so many older siblings, Aziraphale had never been the center of attention, and he didn't understand why, of all people, Crowley had chosen him to observe like that.

So no one could blame Aziraphale for falling in love with Crowley. He wanted to take care of that disaster of a boy who had stolen his heart without meaning to, to hold his hand and never let go. He wanted to teach him that the world still had good and beautiful things to offer, that it was worth it to have faith in the future.

He wanted to go on a date with him and he wanted to kiss him.

However, now Aziraphale wished he hadn't. Maybe then his father wouldn't have asked him why he was crying. Maybe then Aziraphale wouldn't have confessed between sobs that he had fallen in love with Crowley. Maybe then they could have stayed together.

But the damage was done, and Aziraphale only had that letter and the memories they had both created together left now. He wondered if Crowley thought about him as much as Aziraphale did. Did he, too, wake up in the middle of the night, feeling the ghost of the boy's lips on his? Did he dream of having Aziraphale next to him again, while they held hands and smiled as if they didn't have a care in this world? Did he miss Aziraphale like his heart had been ripped out of his chest?

Aziraphale turned in bed and looked out the window. The moon stared back at him with its dim light, and Aziraphale found himself transported back to the moment he had run away after his date with Crowley. He had been so terrified by the thought that Crowley had grown tired of him that he had left. He would rather leave than face disappointment and rejection.

And as always, he had let his insecurities ruin everything, because nothing was further from the truth. In his letter, Crowley had told him that he had fallen in love with Aziraphale too, and simply needed some time to get his life together. He wanted to be a better person for Aziraphale, to give up self-destructive habits so he could be a good boyfriend. That made Aziraphale love him even more.

His cell phone began to vibrate next to him, and the light from the screen obscured the brightness of the moon. Aziraphale groaned and extended his arm to see who was calling him at this hour. He didn't know the number, but he decided to answer the call anyway in case it was something important. Calls in the middle of the night never were for good news. The last time, it had been a call from the hospital his mother was staying at.

“Yes?” Aziraphale said in barely a whisper.

"Hello, Aziraphale..." answered the voice on the other end.

Crowley. It was Crowley. Aziraphale would have recognized his voice anywhere, the way he said his name softly, the slight hiss.

"Anthony," Aziraphale couldn't help but smile. “Hello.”

'I've missed you,' he thought.

“Why are you calling me?” was what he asked instead.

“I... I just wanted to know how you're doing.”

Aziraphale had to blink to not start crying at that moment.

“I'm alright,” he lied.

“Good. That's good. I'm very glad, Aziraphale," Crowley said quietly.

There was silence on the line, and Aziraphale tried to memorize Crowley's breathing on the other end. For the first time in ten days, he felt at peace. Then, Crowley cleared his throat.

“When are you coming back?” he asked.

Aziraphale closed his eyes.

“Don't know. At Christmas, or summer perhaps? My father wants me to stay here for the entire year.”

Crowley let out a sigh, and Aziraphale could picture him ruffling his red hair.

“I'm sorry. This is all my fault," he murmured.

“It is most certainly not. If I hadn't run away like a coward and I had let you explain yourself…”

“No. It's not just that, Aziraphale. I'm a bad person. Your father is right. You are much better off without me.”

"Don't say that! I spend all day thinking about what you would say if you were here with me, and sometimes I turn around looking for you and you're not there. I am much better with you, there's no doubt. You always make me feel like I can do anything I wanted," Aziraphale stated vehemently, regretting not being next to Crowley to hold his hands and look into his eyes.

Crowley stayed silent for a few seconds, and then he let out a pained noise.

“Aziraphale, I have to tell you something. Something that wasn't in the letter.”

Aziraphale's heart raced. What was that something that Crowley had not dared to write? What was so important that he had felt the need to call him at midnight?

“Tell me then.”

"Just..." Crowley's voice broke. “Don't hate me, Aziraphale. Please.”

"I could never hate you."

“You don't know that. You can't promise me anything, because I haven't told you yet what I was planning to do to you. What I wanted to do to you…”

“What? Anthony, what are you talking about?”

“I lied. From the beginning, all this time, I lied to you…”

Aziraphale was tempted to end the call at that moment. He no longer wanted to listen to what Crowley had to say, not if it was going to reduce his heart to shreds, not if it could completely break the thin and delicate string that tied them both together.

“About what ? Anthony, please tell me.”

“About everything!” Crowley exclaimed, breathing rapidly. “Do you wanna know why I started talking to you? Do you wanna know why I asked you out on that date? Do you wanna know what I was planning to do?”

“Anthony, what are you talking about?” Aziraphale stammered, feeling a sudden cold spread throughout his body.

Aziraphale knew what was going to happen. He was on the edge of a cliff, about to fall into the void, and Crowley was in front of him. He was the only one who could choose whether to save him or make him fall, offer his hand or his back. And Aziraphale knew too well how painful the fall was going to be. He would never recover from that blow, not completely.

“It was all a damn joke! That's what it had to be, a joke! I was supposed to break your heart, Aziraphale! I was going to do it so my friends could laugh at you!” Crowley shouted, sounding on the verge of tears.

Aziraphale tried to force his lungs to take in air, but they refused to cooperate. Crowley continued talking, and his voice could be heard between sobs through the phone speaker, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. The only thing he could hear was the frantic beating of his heart and a voice that repeated the word "joke" over and over again.

Aziraphale had been a complete fool. Of course every time Crowley looked at him or spoke to him he told himself that this was too good to be true, of course he knew it. However, as the days went by, he had allowed himself to think that maybe Crowley really did care for him.

How could he have been so stupid? Why had he let himself be fooled by a couple of kind words and an attractive face? Didn't he know that he would never be enough for anyone?

"Is that all I've ever been to you?" he muttered. He didn't know if Crowley was still explaining himself or not, but he needed to know. “A joke? An entertainment?”

“No! Of course not!” Crowley sobbed. “Things were supposed to be different, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale began to cry as well, tears burning his cheeks. He was a fool, a big idiot, he always had been and always would be. Who could love him, if he didn't even love himself? He would never be more than the worst of his brothers, the disappointment of his family, the fat and shy boy that no one paid attention to.

Crowley had made him feel special, unique, important. And everything had been nothing more than a game, an absurd joke that he could laugh about later with his friends.

"I thought so too," Aziraphale mumbled in a low voice.

"Aziraphale, please..."

“Good night, AJ.”

He pressed the red button, and held the phone tightly to his chest, sobbing so hard that the air was barely entering his lungs. The loud music in the common area muffled his crying, so no one came to comfort him. Like so many other times, Aziraphale hugged himself. He felt so alone, as if he were in the middle of a fog that threatened to suffocate him and no one could help him get out of it.

He cried until he fell asleep. Of course, he dreamed of Crowley, who laughed at him over and over again, creating a sinister melody. When he woke up, his cheeks were wet and the sun had not yet appeared on the horizon.

Aziraphale did not go back to sleep. The only thing he could think about was that the same person who had just reduced his heart to pieces was the only one capable of making him feel better again.

§§§§

Crowley called him the next day. And the next, and then every day that passed, sometimes even several times. Aziraphale just watched his name flash on the screen as he held back tears and never picked up.

In class, he sat as far away from everyone as possible and didn't talk to anyone. He wasn't sure he could endure another situation as painful as Crowley's, and the best way to do it was not to get closer to anyone. If you became impenetrable, if no one could get close to you, then nothing could harm you.

Except it was too late for that. Crowley had plunged a deadly dagger into his heart, and he just had to wait for Aziraphale to bleed out completely.

At night, Aziraphale dreamed of him. Sometimes, if the universe was kind, the dreams showed Crowley laughing at him, mocking all of Aziraphale's insecurities in a cold, cruel tone. Aziraphale could endure those nightmares, because they were so much better than the alternative.

Other times, when Aziraphale dreamed of Crowley, he could imagine him at his side, leaving soft kisses on his cheeks, on his forehead, on his lips, on every corner of skin he could find. The boy stared at him with his amber eyes as if he were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Aziraphale wished he could live in those dreams forever, and when he woke up, tears escaped his eyes without his permission.

He shouldn't miss Crowley after all the damage he'd done to him, but he did. After all, he still reread the letter, even though some of the words could barely be deciphered because of the tears he had shed over them.

"What's wrong with Aziraphale?" he heard one of his roommates ask the other one, on a day when it was quiet enough in the apartment to be able to hear through the walls.

“I don't know, I haven't spoken to him since he arrived. He's always locked in his room.”

“He looks sad.”

"I guess so, yeah," the other boy sighed. “Do you think we should ask him if he's okay?”

“It is clear that he's not…”

“I do know that. Should we ask him anyway?”

“I don't think he would tell us anyway, would he?”

A deep sigh was heard.

“I guess not, you're right. He'll get over it, right? In the end, everything passes.”

Aziraphale doubted it, but he wanted to believe it anyway.

§§§§

The day came in which Aziraphale realized he had been for one month in that boarding school. It was strange to think that he had spent as much time with Crowley as away from him.

Crowley must have noticed that detail too, because that day he received seven different calls: the first at breakfast, the next three in class, the fifth while he was trying to study, the sixth in the shower, and the seventh when he was reading a book. Aziraphale did not pick up any of them.

At night, Crowley called him again. Aziraphale let the phone ring until it stopped, feeling a tight knot in his stomach. The screen went black after a few seconds, then turned on again, a text appearing on it.

'Please let me talk to you'

And then a simple:

‘Aziraphale’

Crowley had never texted him before. Aziraphale sighed, knowing that a moment later he would hate himself for the decision he had made, and before he could regret it he texted Crowley back.

‘Alright’

Barely a second later, his phone vibrated again with a call from Crowley. Aziraphale took a deep breath to steady his nerves and then pressed the ‘Accept’ button with trembling hands.

At first, nothing could be heard on the other end of the line. Aziraphale waited some time for Crowley to speak, but Crowley seemed unable to utter a word.

“What do you want?” Aziraphale said in a sharp voice.

“Aziraphale…”

“AJ, don't waste my time. What do you want from me? Haven't you had enough fun already?”

Crowley sighed, and then responded in a tone that was barely above a whisper.

“I'm sorry.”

Aziraphale let out an empty laugh.

“That's all? I'm sorry? Do you think that everything is solved with that?”

“Of course not, but…”

“Do you know how I've been feeling this month, AJ? Like a fool, the biggest of them all. And you think you can call me and fix everything with an apology?”

His voice trailed off, and Aziraphale swallowed, his eyes filling with tears. He didn't want to ask, but he needed to do it anyway.

"Tell me something, Anthony."

"Anything," he said firmly.

“When you told me all those nice things, did you really mean them? Or did you just want to end your stupid plan as soon as possible?”

“They are true! Everything I've told you, every word, is true!” Crowley exclaimed desperately. “Please, you have to believe me, Aziraphale. Let me explain, I beg you…”

“How can I believe you when I have been nothing more than a game to you?” Aziraphale said.

“Because you haven't been to me! I fucking love you, Aziraphale! That's the fucking problem in all of this!”

Aziraphale let out a sob and put his hands to his face. How many times had he longed to hear those words from Crowley, how many nights had he imagined his voice whispering them in the dark. However, now they hurt as if Crowley had delivered his final blow to Aziraphale, mortally wounding him.

“I didn't want to fall in love with you. That wasn't part of the plan," Crowley said, completely exhausted. “But it was impossible not to do it. You... You made me feel as if I really mattered. As if I could do something right for once in my life.”

“Oh, did I? Well, maybe I was wrong. I never judged you for the things you or your other friends did, because I trusted that you still had a heart beneath all that anger and indifference. I guess it wasn't true. You're just like them!" Aziraphale snapped, with all the pain he had accumulated in that month.

Crowley was quiet for a few seconds, and then he let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“You're right, I will never be a good person. But please, you have to believe me. For me it stopped being a game the moment you sat next to me in class. From that moment on, I never wanted to hurt you.”

“And I am supposed to believe that? After all, I have to go and trust your word?”

"Aziraphale, please. Why do you think I told you I had to leave that night after our date? I wanted to fix things. I wanted to be better for you, and to do that I had to find my friends, tell them that I had had enough.”

Aziraphale remembered the feeling of Crowley's lips against his, soft and sweet and everything Crowley didn't seem to be with anyone but him. He thought about the way he had tensed up after a few seconds, his panic, and how he had chased Aziraphale in the middle of the night, screaming his name so loud that even the stars could hear him.

“And you have done it?” Aziraphale whispered, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“Of course!” Crowley responded instantly, and his voice turned sweet as he continued. “I want to try to be a better person, Aziraphale. I've found a job, and I have earned enough money to leave the shelter I am in now, and then I swear I will find a good therapist to help me with all the shit in my head. You deserve someone better than the person I was before, and I want to try to be that someone.”

“Do you really mean it? Are you willing to do all that for me?”

"Do you think you could give me a second chance then?"

Aziraphale sighed, feeling very tired. He just wanted someone to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. He just wanted to go back to the days when Crowley was at his side, cheering for him and making him feel invincible.

“I think I can try. You have time until I return, Anthony. If at that moment you have truly changed, I will give you a second chance. But…”

“I understand. I will not let you down, Aziraphale. I promise you that I am trying with all I've got.”

Aziraphale smiled slightly, and it was the first sincere smile in a month.

“I know.”

"And I'm really sorry," Crowley added, his voice shaken. “I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I should never have agreed to that plan. I was a dickhead who cared more about being adored by his friends than doing the right thing. You didn't deserve that. It will never happen again, I promise.”

Aziraphale did not answer. He wanted to believe Crowley this time, because he was offering him everything he had ever wanted. But things had changed in the last month for them, and there was a small part of his brain that was screaming not to trust that boy again, because he was just going to end up bleeding and alone one more time.

“Then prove it. See you at Christmas," Aziraphale said in a soft voice. “And, Anthony?”

“Yeah?”

Aziraphale breathed deeply, his heart bleeding in his chest.

“It's okay if you want to be better for me. But just remember that you should also do it for yourself, my dear.”

Crowley made a pained sound, and he sniffed. He let out a shaky laugh that sounded fake and forced.

“I don't think I can do that. I've never been good at doing things for myself. But I'll try, okay? I promise.”

Aziraphale smiled slightly, caressing the phone with his fingers and imagining it was Crowley's cheek.

“Then that's enough for me. Goodnight, Anthony.”

"Goodnight, Aziraphale," Crowley murmured, and the words felt like a warm hug. “I love you.”

Then he hung up the call. Aziraphale wanted to text him to tell him how much he loved him too, but he didn't. He had to be true to his word. They would take a break, and then he would see if Crowley really loved him as much as he said he did.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale returned home a couple of days before Christmas. When the boy texted him that he was back, Crowley had to resist the urge to run over and show him all the progress he had made in those months.

They hadn't spoken since their last call. Crowley had considered calling him on multiple occasions, just to know how Aziraphale was doing. Crowley was worried about him, because he sounded really exhausted, like he wasn't getting enough sleep. Crowley couldn't blame him, because he felt the same way.

Going to therapy sounded much easier than it actually was. Crowley had cried more in the last few months than in his entire life, and many times he felt that instead of moving forward he was going backwards. At night, Aziraphale's sad face mixed with his parents' angry voices, and Crowley always woke up with his heart racing in his tiny new apartment.

However, he had to admit that it was working. He no longer got drunk every other Friday, nor did he destroy things for fun. His last fight had been with Hastur, when he had made a nasty comment about Aziraphale in class a few weeks ago. He still had some things he needed to work on, like his fear of abandonment and his pessimistic attitude, but he was really trying. He hoped Aziraphale would be able to see it too.

Crowley did not leave his cell phone from the moment he knew that Aziraphale had returned, waiting for a call, a message that would tell him that he could finally see the boy who had not left his mind for months. He missed his laugh, his soft voice talking about anything, his sky blue eyes, his bright smile, his hand in Crowley's. He had never missed anyone so much, because he had never had a reason to miss someone before.

However, Aziraphale never called or texted him. Crowley waited days for him to do it, and spent Christmas wondering how the other boy was doing. Had Aziraphale decided it wasn't worth giving him a second chance? Had he realized that Crowley was far beneath him? Had boarding school changed him and turned him into an uptight and unbearable child?

On New Year's Eve he decided he needed to clear his head a little. It was the last day of the year and he wasn't going to spend it locked up in his tiny apartment, looking with pity at a cell phone that wouldn't turn on. So he put on his best trousers and an elegant black shirt and went out into the street, ready to get drunk in his usual establishment.

And of course, because he had never had an ounce of good luck in his life, Hastur and Ligur were also there. They were sitting at the table they always chose on Friday nights, passing around a bottle while laughing. Crowley froze when he saw them, and before he could flee, Ligur raised his head and saw him.

“Look who has decided to show up!” he exclaimed, nudging Hastur. He was very drunk, judging by the way the words left his mouth. “AJ, how are you? How are you doing?”

"I... I was about to leave," Crowley replied, pointing to the door.

"Oh, no, please stay, mate..." Hastur said with a smile that made Crowley's skin crawl. “We've missed you so much, haven't we, Ligur?”

Ligur laughed, then stood up and put an arm around Crowley's shoulders.

“Sit down! It'll be just like old times, AJ!” His grip on him became somewhat stronger. “Before you decided that that whiny asshole was more important than us…”

"Aziraphale is not a..." Crowley began.

“Oh shut up. Don't defend him, please, it's ridiculous... He's just a weak faggot.”

Crowley turned away from Ligur abruptly. He could hear his therapist’s voice telling him that he couldn't always use violence to defend himself, and that he was doing a very good job of self-control lately, but he ignored it.

"Do you want me to break your nose right here?" he growled. “Hastur can tell you how that feels, right?”

Hastur raised a hand to his nose, remembering the way Crowley had punched him weeks before. Ligur raised his hands in a peace gesture with a drunken smile.

“Alright, alright… But tell me, your dear boy is back, right?”

Crowley felt a freezing cold spread across his back, making his skin crawl.

“Why do you said so?”

"Ligur and I bumped into him the other day," Hastur replied. “He was all alone, wearing his ridiculous bowtie, so we decided to keep his company.”

"He certainly felt very well accompanied." Ligur smiled even more broadly. “You should have heard him screaming, AJ. He shrieked like a girl…”

Crowley lunged at him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, bringing their faces close together.

"What have you done to Aziraphale? Answer!”

"We haven't fucked him, if that's what you're worried about," Hastur answered from beside him, his tone surprisingly calm. “We just did what we said we would do at the beginning of the school year…”

“He was certainly asking for those punches, don't you think?” Ligur laughed.

Crowley pushed him away from him. His heart was beating so fast that Crowley feared his body couldn't keep up. He felt the sour taste of vomit in his mouth just thinking about Aziraphale, his sweet and kind Aziraphale, who would never hurt a fly, being hit over and over again by his former friends while begging for them to stop.

"I warned you, AJ," Ligur said. “I told you that without us you were nothing. And I'm going to keep my word, no matter what it takes. I have no problem beating your boyfriend until he forgets about you…”

“Leave Aziraphale alone, and I will make your life miserable, do you understand?” Crowley shouted. “Do I need to remind you what I'm capable of? Don't you remember the kind of person I am, the fights I've been in, the lives I've destroyed? You were there to see it. You don't want to become my enemies, trust me.”

The two boys stared at him, and Crowley could see a glimmer of fear in their eyes. Crowley clenched his jaw tightly, standing as straight as he could. If Crowley becoming the devil himself would keep Aziraphale safe, then so be it. He would burn the entire Earth if that was what it took for his friend to not suffer anymore.

"I'm glad we reached an agreement," Crowley said when he received no further response.

Then he picked up the bottle from the table and took a swig. He dropped her to the ground, where she shattered with a crash, before leaving the bar and running towards Aziraphale's house.

§§§§

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale's father growled as he opened the door. “You promised me…”

Crowley stopped him urgently, poking his head into the house.

“I know, I'm sorry, but I need to see Aziraphale, please. I heard what happened to him and…”

“Did you have anything to do with that?”

“Of course not! And nothing like that will happen to him again, I'll take care of it myself, sir,” Crowley promised.

Aziraphale's father shook his head and then he smiled slightly at Crowley.

“Maybe I was wrong about you, boy.”

“Why do you say that?”

The man sighed.

"Because Aziraphale has returned from that boarding school looking like a ghost," he confessed. “In this last year since his mother passed away, I've only seen him happy for a month. The month that you were by his side.”

“Then let me help. Let me help your son, please,” Crowley pleaded. “I'm not going to hurt him, I swear. I just… I just want to see if he's okay.”

Aziraphale's father looked him straight in the eyes, and seemed to find what he was looking for in them, because he sighed again and stepped aside to let him in.

“I'm going to give you a chance, boy. His room is the first one on the left on the upper floor. But if I find out that you have treated my son badly…”

Crowley didn't let him finish the sentence. He was already entering the house and hurrying up the stairs to go to Aziraphale's room.

The door was open when he arrived. Crowley stopped breathing for a moment as he saw the boy again. He was at his desk, reading a book by the light of a lamp. How Crowley had missed seeing him reading next to him in the mornings.

"Aziraphale?" he called, without being completely aware of it.

Aziraphale looked up quickly from his book, his blue eyes meeting Crowley's amber ones in no time. Crowley didn't waste another moment. He ran up to the other boy and wrapped him in a hug so tight it barely let him breathe.

"Oh, Anthony," Aziraphale murmured into his hair.

Crowley blinked furiously to chase away the tears, but Aziraphale was already crying, clutching tightly to his shirt. Crowley ran a hand through his soft blond curls and took a deep breath. Aziraphale was there, next to him, and he had never felt so at home. In that moment, for the first time in his life, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

"I'm so glad to see you, Anthony," Aziraphale murmured, slowly separating himself from the boy. However, he did not let go of his hands, as if he was afraid that by not touching Crowley he would disappear from his sight.

Crowley felt a new wave of tears in his eyes when he saw the bruise on Aziraphale's jaw and the small cut above his eyebrow. His right eye was slightly dark and swollen, and Crowley could see the mark of fingers on his neck.

Crowley was used to wounds, both to his own skin and on others. However, he felt a little dizzy seeing them on Aziraphale's face. They stood out wildly on the boy's smooth, pale skin, and Crowley wished he could transfer them into his body as long as Aziraphale wasn't hurt.

"I'm so sorry, Aziraphale..." he whispered, and brought a trembling hand to Aziraphale's face to caress his jaw carefully.

He had to lower his head, because he couldn't stand the look full of love that Aziraphale was giving him at that moment. Why wasn't he scared of him? Why was he willing to take punches and kicks, even when they were Crowley's fault?

"It wasn't your fault," Aziraphale said. “Your friends were… very vocal about what they thought of me.”

“They're no longer my friends, Aziraphale. And I'm so sorry for all of this.”

“They told me that you had abandoned them because of me. That you had become weak and sensitive, a faggot like me,” Aziraphale sighed.

Crowley looked up, feeling the rage spread through his body. He regretted not having punched Ligur, and was tempted to go back to the bar and smash his nose on the table. However, that wasn't what Aziraphale needed. Crowley had to make him feel protected and loved, not more scared.

“I wish I could have been there to defend you. But they won't come near you again, I promise. They're never going to touch you again, I won't let them," Crowley said softly. “And don't listen to them, Aziraphale. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I wouldn't trade a single moment with you for an eternity with them.”

“Do you really mean it?”

“I do.”

Aziraphale looked at him intensely, and Crowley felt the other boy travel through the deepest corners of his soul. It was terrifying to be examined like this, especially since this was his Judgment Day, the final verdict, and Crowley still felt the fire in his veins, threatening to devour everything he touched.

But now he had the tools to control it, and Aziraphale seemed to know it too. His gaze softened and his lips curved into a slight smile that failed to brighten up his eyes.

“No more lies?”

“Never. And I would understand if you didn't believe me, after everything that's happened," Crowley added. “But let me prove it to you every day, please.”

"You've changed," Aziraphale pointed out.

“Is that a bad thing? I'm still me." Crowley shrugged. “But I'm going to therapy. I'm trying hard not to be a dick and let go of all the shit I've carried for years.”

‘Is it enough, Aziraphale? Is it enough for you?’ he wanted to ask, but he didn't. He didn't know if he was ready to hear the answer.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, and Crowley's heart stopped for a second. He felt as if his life was in the other boy's hands, like Aziraphale had a gun pointed at his heart and he didn't know whether to pull the trigger or not.

"I forgive you, Anthony," Aziraphale said solemnly. “I promised you I would give you a chance if you tried to change, and I think you completely deserve it. You… No one has ever sacrificed so much for me, ever.”

“Are you sure? If you forgive me, if you let me back into your life, there's be no turning back," Crowley said, his throat dry. “Because I'm not leaving your side, Aziraphale.”

And finally, Aziraphale gave him one of his bright smiles. It was like watching the sun rise after an endless rain. How he had missed seeing him smile like that, as if there were still beautiful things in this world.

"Nothing would make me happier, my dear," Aziraphale replied.

Almost as if they had rehearsed it, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the back of his neck and pulled him close for a kiss. Crowley responded immediately, kissing him back with the eagerness of a castaway who has been without sustenance for days. His lips were as soft and sweet as he remembered.

Crowley had been raised on beatings and cruel words, so it was difficult for him to understand how someone could touch him so gently, as if they were afraid of breaking him. But Aziraphale held his neck gently and kissed him with the care of someone who wanted to savor the moment. No one had ever made him feel this way.

When they separated, Aziraphale looked at him with a shy smile. His cheeks were flushed, and Crowley had to stop himself from kissing him again, because he was adorable.

"Does that mean you'll give me a second chance?" Crowley asked.

"If you're going to kiss me like that, I don't think I have any other choice," Aziraphale laughed, and despite the wounds that covered his face he looked happy.

Crowley felt happy too, happier than he had felt in a long time. He laughed and left a quick kiss on Aziraphale's lips.

“So you only love me for that, huh?”

“Obviously.”

“Well, then you should know that I only did all this for your chocolate. I haven't eaten any since you left…”

Aziraphale's smile turned soft.

"Then I guess we have a lot of time to make up for, Anthony."

Crowley nodded vehemently.

“You won't regret it, I swear.”

“I hope so. I honestly don't think…” Aziraphale's voice broke, but he forced himself to continue smiling. “I don't think I could handle something like that again.”

“You won't have to. Let me show you each day, please.”

Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley kissed his cheek, just because he could.

“Starting with Wednesday afternoon. Prepare yourself for the most amazing date you've ever had.”

“I thought we already had that one."

“This one is going to be even better, do you know why? Because it's truly going to be ours, Aziraphale.” Crowley winked at him, trying to lighten the mood. “And because I planned it, of course.”

"You're a narcissist, Anthony," Aziraphale said with a laugh.

"Noted." Crowley smirked. “I'll have to talk to my psychologist about that then.”

Aziraphale responded by kissing him again. They spent hours like this, talking about everything and nothing in Aziraphale's room, exchanging kisses and stories and laughs, and feeling complete for the first time. It was as if nothing had changed between them, and at the same time everything was different.

When the clock almost struck midnight and the year came to an end, Crowley took Aziraphale by the hand and led him out of the house. Aziraphale's father watched them leave, but the man just nodded and gave them a small smile. Crowley took it as a victory.

The stars could barely be seen, but Crowley forced Aziraphale to lie down on the grass to see them anyway.

“Dear, I'm going to stain my clothes…”

“Aziraphale, please, come on…”

Aziraphale sighed and lay down next to him, his hand in Crowley's. There was one minute left until the start of a new year.

“Do you think the following year will be better than this one?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

Crowley turned to look at him.

“I'm sure it will.”

And when the clock announced the beginning of the year, they celebrated with a kiss that felt like a promise.

Chapter Text

“Do you want a chocolate bar?”

Crowley snorted, crossing his arms.

“Do you think you can buy my loyalty with chocolate?”

"Anthony, don't be silly..." Aziraphale told him. “This was your idea!”

Crowley sighed. Of course, Aziraphale was right. He had been the one who had planned that date, after all.

"I try to do something nice for you and this is how you repay me..." he murmured.

“I just want to go into that bookstore, please! I promise you that we'll have lunch afterwards, my dear.”

During the months they had spent apart, Crowley had thought about things he would like to do with Aziraphale. So for their first official date he had the perfect plan: a tour of the most important bookstores in the area and lunch at an Asian restaurant that had recently opened. Of course, Aziraphale had started jumping excitedly when Crowley had told him the plan.

Crowley wasn't particularly interested in reading, but it had been worth going to all those bookstores just to see Aziraphale browsing the shelves with a huge smile on his face. The boy pointed out books here and there, bombarding Crowley with information about the plot, the authors, or the characters. Crowley had to confess that he had spent more time admiring Aziraphale than paying attention to what he was saying, because he seemed to glow today.

Crowley decided that he was not going to be the one who took away that brightness from Aziraphale. He would endure going to one more bookstore if that meant he could keep Aziraphale's smile intact.

"Okay..." Crowley sighed. “But you've already bought three books, Aziraphale. I'm not going to carry any more books.”

“But Anthony…!”

“No.”

“Okay, I won't purchase any more books, I promise... But now come on, let's go in!”

Of course, Crowley ended up carrying one more book and a very offended Aziraphale on his arm.

"I can't allow you to be uneducated, Anthony!"

“You said you weren't going to buy any more books, angel!”

“It's not for me! It's for you!” Aziraphale exclaimed, placing a hand on his chest. “No boyfriend of mine is going to go around saying that ‘The Hobbit’ is a really good movie without having read the book!”

Crowley nearly dropped all the books he was carrying. Aziraphale seemed to realize what he had just said, because he blushed and looked down at the ground.

“You… I… Ngk, you said…”

"It was a slip, dear," Aziraphale said quickly with a slight tremor in his voice. “The emotion of the moment, I suppose. I would understand if you didn't feel the same, of course. It's nothing more than a stupid comment…”

“Aziraphale, wait. It's not a stupid comment," Crowley stopped him. “Do you really think that about us? Do you want me to be your…?”

He couldn't even say the word. He had never thought that he would end up with someone that not only liked him enough to keep him for more than a week, but who wanted to be his boyfriend. He would have to speak with his therapist about it, because his brain was about to explode.

"More than anything in the world," Aziraphale murmured, not daring to look at him in the eyes.

Crowley rearranged his books so he had a free hand and caressed Aziraphale's cheek.

“Then let me kiss my boyfriend.”

Aziraphale didn't waste a second. He kissed Crowley, and he could feel the huge smile of his now boyfriend against his lips. Crowley was smiling too, and nothing in this world could erase that smile.

Aziraphale was his boyfriend.

As they ate in the restaurant, holding hands, Crowley wondered when his life had taken this turn. At what point had the universe decided he had suffered enough and put Aziraphale in his path?

"What are you thinking of, Anthony?" Aziraphale said with a smile.

Months ago, Crowley would have responded with a joke or a sarcastic comment. Probably now too, if the one asking the question wasn't Aziraphale. However, the boy had always been his weak spot, even when he shouldn't have been.

"Of how lucky I was to meet you," Crowley confessed, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"The pleasure is all mine, dear," and to free Crowley from his embarrassment, he added, "You are the best book bearer I've ever seen."

Crowley laughed, grateful for the topic change. He was working on expressing his feelings, but he still wasn't very good at it. It still made him feel like he was weak, like his father was going to suddenly appear and laugh at him for being a sissy.

"Thank you, thank you, I've trained very hard to be one." He made a small bow over the table.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes.

“You're going to read ‘The Hobbit’, right?”

“Depends. Am I going to stop being your boyfriend if I don't read it?”

"Probably," Aziraphale said, but he gave his hand a small squeeze. “It would be a shame if we didn't last even a day as a couple…”

"In that case..." Crowley sighed dramatically. “I'll read it. I promise. The things one does for love…”

Aziraphale laughed, beaming. The word "love" still felt strange in Crowley's mouth, but there was no other way to describe what he felt for Aziraphale. He loved him so much that breathing was easier when he was next to him, even though his heart beat as if it was about to give up.

"But tell me, angel..." he said with a lopsided smile.

Aziraphale's attention was on him immediately.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Is ‘The Lord of the Rings’ also a book?”

"Anthony! Of course it is!”

“And ‘Harry Potter’?”

"Anthony, please!"

“What?”

“Next thing you'll say is that you didn't know that ‘Peter Pan’ is a book too...”

Crowley blinked, holding back a laugh.

“It is a book?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth dramatically and placed a hand on his chest.

“I've had enough! Anthony, I want a divorce!”

Crowley laughed. He laughed so hard that tears began to slide down his cheeks, and he could hear Aziraphale laughing too.

"We're not even married!" he managed to say between laughs.

“So what? I want a divorce, Anthony!”

Crowley decided that the best way to prevent their impending separation was to kiss Aziraphale, so he leaned across the table and captured his boyfriend's lips with his own. Aziraphale calmed down instantly.

Mission accomplished.

§§§§

Crowley and Aziraphale made the most of the Christmas holidays. They met each other at every chance they had, and they spent hours together, walking, eating in restaurants or visiting places in the city. Neither of them wanted to think about the incessant ticking of the clock, a constant reminder of how soon they would have to separate again.

The last day of Christmas, Crowley went to find Aziraphale at his house, dragging his feet like a condemned man. His boyfriend soon opened the door for him, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Hello, my dear," Aziraphale greeted him, leaving a soft kiss on his lips.

Crowley didn't answer. He simply closed his eyes, trying to burn into his mind the feeling of Aziraphale's lips on his. Every kiss, every moment they shared could be the last in months.

“What do you want to do today?” Aziraphale asked.

'Let's go off together, far away from here,' Crowley thought, but the only thing he could do in response was to throw himself in Aziraphale's arms.

"Oh, Anthony..." Aziraphale murmured, returning the hug with the same intensity.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, just enjoying each other's presence. Crowley could smell Aziraphale's familiar scent, a mix of cologne and paper that reminded him of home. And that home was leaving him again tomorrow.

"Don't go," Crowley whispered.

“Dear, don't you think that if I could stay I wouldn't?” Aziraphale said, separating himself from Crowley and gently taking his face in his hands. “But I have no choice. I have to go back to boarding school.”

“I know.”

Crowley would never admit it out loud, but what he feared most was that Aziraphale found someone better than him. Someone distinguished, with money and a planned future, who knew about books and authors and with whom Aziraphale could exchange opinions, someone who was everything Crowley would never be. And then Aziraphale would never want to see him again. Crowley couldn't even blame him.

Those two weeks had been a mirage, an illusion, a dream. And now reality was crashing down on them, inexorable, and Crowley hated to think about how easily everything could go wrong between them.

“I'll come back in the summer, okay? It's only a couple of months, and then we will be free," Aziraphale said. “We'll have the best summer in the world. You and me, and all those amazing plans you have in mind, Anthony.”

“Do you really want to do all that with me?” Crowley asked, afraid of the answer.

“Of course!”

Crowley looked down, swallowing, and nodded. Aziraphale seemed to notice how insecure his boyfriend felt at that moment, because he spoke in a soft voice.

"There's no one in this world I'd rather be with, Anthony. I don't want anyone else, no son of a rich family or anyone like that. I love you and only you, because you make me feel happier than I have ever felt.”

Crowley hugged him again, burying his head in his neck to hide the tears that were suddenly flooding his eyes. Aziraphale cradled him as if he were a small child, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

“Can we save the goodbyes for later?” Crowley asked when he had calmed down. “I don't wanna keep crying.”

“Of course. We cannot spend our last day together in months being sad. We have so many things to do!”

“Like what?”

“Like for example, going to that music store you told me about the other day. You still have to show me your favorite bands.”

"I think it's an excellent idea," Crowley said, somewhat more cheerfully.

Still, it took him a great effort to untangle himself from Aziraphale's embrace, and even then he never let go of his hand.

§§§§

Aziraphale left very early the next day. Crowley went with him to the station, and kissed him several times goodbye because he didn't want any of them to be their last kiss.

"I'm going to call you whenever I can, dear," Aziraphale said as he dragged his suitcase across the platform. “And we'll text each other every day, okay? It's not going to be like the last time.”

"I plan to send you my opinion of each sentence of ‘The Hobbit’. You're forcing me to read it, so I think it's only fair that I share my thoughts on it with you,” Crowley answered.

“And I'll send you photos of the sky at night. I know how much you love the stars, and it's a shame you can't see them here.”

Crowley sighed, feeling a tight lump in his throat.

“I wish I could go with you. To see the stars, of course. Not for anything else.”

Aziraphale let out a laugh that sounded a bit watery.

“Of course. Just for that.”

"Alright... Maybe also because of a certain boy I love very much," Crowley added.

"You have room in my suitcase, in case you still want to come," Aziraphale pointed out with a sad smile.

“I'm so sorry, angel, I don't think I'm going in there. But we can try it anyway, just in case.”

When Aziraphale boarded the train, dressed in his tartan bowtie and blue shirt, Crowley had to muster all his self-control not to burst into tears. Why did his heart hurt so much? Why did he feel like Aziraphale had ripped it from his chest and was leaving with it?

“Goodbye, my dear! See you in summer!” Aziraphale exclaimed through the glass, waving his hand.

Crowley forced a smile at him and waved his hand goodbye. He didn't trust himself to be able to speak at that moment.

As the train began to move, Crowley ran alongside it. Aziraphale laughed from the window, encouraging Crowley to run faster, but even then there was a point when the train disappeared from his sight. Crowley stopped, panting, and sank to the ground.

Aziraphale was gone. He had left and wouldn't be back until summer. Crowley blinked away tears.

Before, he had never felt alone. Even when no one cared about him, even when his parents kicked him out of the house and he was forced to sleep on the couches of strangers at that time, he hadn't felt alone. After all, if he had no one he could miss, how would he know what it was like to feel alone?

But at that moment, loneliness swept him off his feet like a huge wave that destroyed everything in its path. Without Aziraphale, there was something missing, an indispensable part of his life.

"I miss you already," Crowley muttered to an empty platform.

Then, he got up from the ground and dusted off his pants. The walk to his apartment seemed to take thousands of years, because he knew that even if he arrived, his home was not there, but miles away on a train to nowhere.

Chapter Text

"Anthony!"

“What? What did you want me to do? I was defending your honour!”

“But you don't have to start fights with anyone because of me!”

Crowley snorted and changed the phone to his other ear while he tried not to burn himself with the pot.

"And where's the fun of that, Aziraphale? Fighting with your old friends because they put up a sign calling your boyfriend a faggot is what makes my existence more exciting, you know?”

Crowley could picture Aziraphale's exasperated expression in his mind, and he couldn't help but smile as he scooped the freshly made pasta onto a plate.

"But I am," Aziraphale said.

“What, my boyfriend?”

“Besides that, silly," Aziraphale laughed. “I meant a faggot. I am one, and proud of it.”

Crowley frowned.

“I don't like when people use that word," he answered with steel in his voice.

For a moment, he was transported to his old home. His father was in front of him, calling him a faggot and slapping him because Crowley had drawn a pink unicorn at school.

"Anthony? Are you alright?” Aziraphale called softly.

Crowley blinked, forcing himself to focus.

“I'm fine, sorry. It's just that hearing that word makes me think of my father… But I'm not getting into fights for fun or anything again, I promise. I don't do that anymore, okay?” he adds quickly.

"Anthony, calm down, I know." Aziraphale's voice sounded so soft that once again Crowley marveled at having found someone like him. “And I am very proud of you.”

"I... Thank you, angel," he cleared his throat, feeling a little overwhelmed.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had told him they were proud of him. His parents had always considered him a disappointment, and a day in which he went to bed without a smack or a new bruise was a good day for him, so he had never expected such kind words from them. At school he was a troublemaker, so of course teachers weren't proud of his behaviour or his mediocre grades. Crowley wasn't even trying to do well, so he didn't care about their opinion.

However, hearing those words from Aziraphale's lips made him want to cry like a baby. Maybe he should add that to the list of topics he had to talk about with his therapist.

“You're very welcome, it's just the truth,” Aziraphale said, sweet as always.

Crowley had to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

"If you keep saying those things, you're going to make me drop my dinner on the floor," Crowley said in a falsely annoyed tone.

“Oh no! That would be a catastrophe!” Aziraphale laughed. “What have you made this time?”

“Spaghetti bolognese.”

There was silence in the line, and Crowley took the opportunity to carry the dish to the table.

“Bad day?” Aziraphale asked softly.

He knew what Aziraphale was thinking, and it scared him that his boyfriend knew him so well. Crowley only cooked pasta when he was tired, stressed or sad.

Today, he felt a bit like all three.

"Something like that," Crowley said with a shrug.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

"It's just... Between the fight and therapy, I've had enough today," Crowley sighed, raising his fork to his mouth. “Too many emotions for me.”

“Sometimes there are bad days, and I know it's not easy to keep trying, dear. But you're not alone anymore, remember?” Aziraphale told him, and Crowley could almost feel the words caressing his skin.

Crowley closed his eyes, tired.

"I miss you," he whispered.

He tried not to tell him that too often, otherwise all of their conversations would end on a bitter note. Most of the time, he covered it up with a joke that would make Aziraphale laugh, and he felt much better afterwards. But there were days when the distance was so painful that his heart bled in his chest.

"And I miss you too, dear, very much," Aziraphale responded softly. “There's only…”

“Forty-six days left.”

“Forty-six days, and I will give you the biggest hug in the world.”

“You better. You have to make it up to me somehow, Aziraphale.”

"Then I will not leave your side for a second," Aziraphale said solemnly. “I'll be like a koala. You'll end up getting tired of me.”

Aziraphale's tone was light-hearted, but Crowley knew him too well to know there was an underlying uncertainty behind his words. Crowley couldn't help but feel guilty for that, because he was the one to blame.

“Never, angel. I told you. You're stuck with me now.”

Aziraphale lets out a relieved giggle.

“Well, I like very much how that sounds. Especially now that you've read ‘The Hobbit’.”

“Not only that. I got paid yesterday, and guess what I bought?”

“A book?”

“Not a book, angel, three books!” Crowley exclaims. “‘The Lord of the Rings’ trilogy, actually.”

“Oh, Anthony, you didn't have to! I know you're working so hard to save some money, and…”

“Don't worry about that, I've got it covered. I wanted to surprise you, that's all.”

“Well, consider me properly baffled.”

Crowley smiled in that way he only reserved for Aziraphale, even if Aziraphale couldn't see him.

“Oh, and when I was walking home I passed by a burger restaurant and it smelled delicious… What do you think about going there when you come back?”

Aziraphale let out an excited sound.

“Please, we definitely have to go! And I haven't forgotten that flower shop you mentioned a couple of weeks ago. We can buy some plants for your apartment, they'll give it a touch of color.”

Crowley glanced around the room.

“Are you saying my apartment is boring?”

“I'm saying that a little green has never hurt anyone, my dear.”

Crowley pouted. His apartment was perfectly decorated, thank you very much. And if most of his furniture was monochrome and industrial looking it wasn't his fault. It had been the only thing he had been able to afford with his first salary.

“Alright. We'll buy the damn plants," Crowley agreed with a grunt. “But you are going to come and take care of them every week. I don't plan to be a single father of a bunch of green bushes…”

“Of course not! We're both going to be their parents, Anthony, who do you take me for? I am not an absent father…”

“Good. Because I've had enough of that in my life…” said Crowley.

Aziraphale was silent for a few seconds, but when Crowley began to laugh he let out a loud laugh as well. His therapist wasn't there to tell him that he couldn't use jokes as a defense mechanism, so Crowley laughed until his stomach hurt.

“We are gonna be first-time parents!” Crowley cheered.

“Of some plants, Anthony!” Aziraphale exclaimed between laughs.

“Don't talk like that about our new children, angel…”

Aziraphale let out another laugh that filled the silence of the floor. Crowley couldn't care less about money or luxury, because laughing with Aziraphale was one of the best things this world could offer him.

He couldn't wait to laugh next to him, their shoulders brushing and their laughter ringing in his ears.

§§§§

Crowley paced back and forth on the platform while compulsively checking his cell phone. The lady sitting on a nearby bench watched him while shaking her head.

"Son, you're going to make me dizzy," she told him when he passed by again.

Crowley paused, running a hand through his hair and giving the woman his most polite smile.

“I'm sorry. I'm a bit nervous, I guess.”

The woman looked at him sternly over her glasses.

“I can see that.”

Crowley rearranged the flowers he was holding, checking that they were still in perfect condition, and then took out his phone again to see if Aziraphale had texted him. However, there was no news of the boy, so Crowley put it back in his pants pocket.

“Are you waiting for your girlfriend, young man?” the lady asked.

"No, not really," Crowley laughed. “It's my boyfriend. He returns home today.”

The woman nodded seriously, and then pointed to the flowers with a trembling finger. Crowley was ready to give her a long speech about how times had changed and that love was love regardless of gender. However, the woman smiled slightly at him.

“I'm glad to see that there are still gentlemen who know how to treat their partners.”

Crowley breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, ma’am. I hope he likes them.”

"My John used to bring me flowers every week, you know? Red roses. He was the perfect man." The woman sighed, and then she ordered sternly. “Take good care of your young man. Give him flowers, treat him well, love him with everything you've got. And never go to bed angry. That is the secret to making any relationship work.”

Crowley, for a moment, allowed himself to dream of a distant future. Aziraphale was next to him, his hair completely white but as wild as usual. Time had not managed to dull the shine in his eyes, and he still smiled at Crowley with that light that made him so special. He had a ring on her finger, a little rusty after so many years, and Crowley could see one on his finger too. But above all, Crowley loved him, he had never stopped doing so, and Aziraphale loved him too.

“There’s nothing that would make me happier in this world, you know? I don't want to share my life with anyone else. He's everything to me.”

The woman smiled, and then pointed to the train that was just entering the station.

"Then go get him. Come on, young man, don't just stand there!”

She didn't have to say it twice. Crowley ran towards the train with the flowers in his hand and his heart pounding in his ears. When he saw a familiar mop of blonde hair appear in his field of vision, he stopped in his tracks. Time seemed to stop as Aziraphale's eyes met his. It didn't matter that there were dozens of people around them, shouting and greeting each other, because they both only had eyes for each other.

Aziraphale ran up to him, and Crowley didn't have time to process what was happening because his boyfriend's body collided with his. His arms wrapped around him tightly, almost suffocating him, and Crowley dropped the flowers to the ground to hug Aziraphale back.

Aziraphale was there, next to him, and they would never have to be separated again. Crowley allowed himself to close his eyes and smile against Aziraphale's curls. His chest felt light for the first time in months, as if air was entering his lungs again easily.

"I'm back," Aziraphale murmured, his voice shaken.

"I can see that, idiot," Crowley replied, placing a kiss on his hair.

“So many months without seeing each other and that's the first thing you're going to say to me?”

“Not really, no. I had a speech ready, I had brought you flowers and everything…”

“Flowers?” Aziraphale asked.

“They are on the floor.”

"I should pick them up then."

Crowley stopped him by hugging him even tighter.

“No. I'm not about to let go of you right now. The flowers can wait. I can't.”

Aziraphale positioned himself so he was as close to Crowley as possible. They continued hugging for minutes, seconds or hours, perhaps all eternity, and when they separated they were both smiling with eyes full of tears. Aziraphale had shed a tear or two, so Crowley wiped his cheeks with his thumbs before placing a kiss on his lips.

"Hello," Crowley said in a surprisingly soft tone.

"Hello, my dear," Aziraphale replied. “How are you?”

“I've never been better.”

“In that case, are you ready to go home?”

Home. Crowley liked the sound of that. He had never imagined that he would have a home. Of course, he had had a roof over his head throughout his childhood, and he had always been able to sleep somewhere in his teenage years, but he had never felt at home. Crowley had begun to believe that there was no home for him.

But when Aziraphale offered him his hand and gave him a radiant smile, Crowley knew he had found his home. He had found it months ago, when that boy had decided not to give up on him and had offered him his heart even knowing that Crowley could destroy it in an instant. Where everyone saw a monster, Aziraphale had simply seen Crowley, with his strengths and his weaknesses.

Aziraphale had, without realizing it, fixed so many things that he hadn't broken. Crowley would have to search for him in future lives to thank him.

So when he took Aziraphale's hand in his own, he knew that for once in his life, he had made the right decision.

"Take me home, Aziraphale."

They left the station together, talking about all the plans they had in mind for that summer. Of the restaurants they would eat at, the shops they had to go to, the museums they would visit, the best parks to walk in, the quiet afternoons at home. And at that moment, the future seemed much brighter.

The flowers Crowley had bought were left abandoned at the station, but it didn't matter. Crowley was going to buy Aziraphale new ones every week for the rest of his lives, he promised.