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"Do i belong in right and wrong? One dies alone and why?" should not be the last thoughts of a thursday night, especially for a 9 year old kid, drenched in his own tears, wet clothes who was now freezing to death.
If not that, maybe it was the internal bleeding that was slowly and painfully killing him, or it could have been something entirely else he wasn't aware of too.
He didn't think that a simple divorce could lead up to this chain of events, but he had to suck it up: he knew, after all, that over the 40% of the marriages in America ended up in a divorce. He had studied it in class some months ago,
He was aware he wasn't alone in this struggle, more people than Crowley could ever immagine were going trough this exact same situation, however he was also aware that this was not America: this was a small town in the middle of nowhere, which meant that the divorce rates were much lower than elsewhere, and all he felt was was more lonliness then he ever dared to immagine, even while having the spotlight pointed on him.
He wished he could remember the statistics, but it was more and more difficult to concentrate after every second that passed.
"They must want to be friends" he had thought just a few hours prior, by the way those kids were looking at him.
And you can't pass such an offer!
He had thought making friends was much harder than this, and turns out it was.
Oh how a fool he had been!
He had to have expected that first hit in the nose, it was logical, who would want to be friends with the weird new kid in the neighbourhood?
Not to mention the look on their faces as his glasses fell off.
The doctors said there wasn't much they could do for his eyes, the best thing they could provide him with were some protective sunglasses, -protective for his sight or from the other people's judgment as they stared into his serpent eyes?- however as soon as the mask fell off hitting the ground, the boys who were now cornering him had just another reason to punch, kick and laugh at him.
In that moment the little Crowley gripped his dreams tight to his chest, held his head up high and put up the fight.
They only stopped once he cried out for everything and anyone,
they only stopped once he screamed all that could be screamed.
He was left on the ground, barely able to move, coughing up blood. Reality started to blur, he was in a line that he was not so carefully dancing on, between being aware and not.
The only thing that was able to ground him was a single drop of rain touching his hand.
Oh!
It was raining, he couldn't exactly understand where he was, nor which time was it, but what mattered at the moment was finding somewhere to repair under before getting more sick than he already was. And so he did, he did find a random hallway that looked empty enough to just lie in next to a dumpster and wait for the sun to set.
"I'll make it through again, i have before, c'mon now, what's one more fight?"
.
He had to admit that after several hours, that same passion he had for life, burning up inside him when he first sat near that same dumpster, was now gone. He almost started to get fond of the idea of death. Everyone died at the end, right? So what was the difference between him and the sleeping cat next to him. And all he had left to do was shake as he prepared himself to try and get even a little bit of sleep,- which was proven to be harder than initially planned given his drenched clothes- hoping deep down of waking up to his grandma telling him he was ok, that he was back home, in scotland, telling him that his parents were still together afterall. Such an unrealistic dream, but a dream nonetheless.
The faint sound of steps.
He could feel something shuffling around him.
Was it them? Had they found him to give crowley a second round of beating?
A loud thump right next to him.
A shadow by his feet.
"Hey uhm, do you... need some help?"
Their voice seemed so sweet and caring, so dear to him, the kind of voice you saw mothers using to reassure crying newborns. The tone almost seemed familiar, maybe his mother used it to calm him when he was a baby too. -no that wasn't right, she didn't seem the type, that probably was his grandma too.-
"Ngk, I'm- no it's fine, i'm ok- fine, really" Crowley finally opened his eyes, there was less light than he anticipated, it was already night, however the deep ache in his bones hadn't seemed to have lessened.
His eyes wandered around, they tried reaching as far as they could without having to move his head. he couldn't see much, not that there was much to see in the first place.
"Oh... I'm- I'm sorry for bothering you, I- I will get out of your space! really I-"
"It's- Stay." Crowley finally turned his neck just enough to look at the kid next to him. He felt every single joint in between his bones pop, that hurt like hell.
The golden haired boy looked his age, if not just a little bit older, he seemed so sweet, with his warm touch, in contrast of the freezing cold he was in, which was slowly making it's way to his heart.
He looked like one of those kids who wished they were born in a different era given by his sense of -dare he say outdated- fashion. He could imagine him sitting on a carpet in a living room surrounded by books of all different sizes, big and small. Which begged the question of what was he doing there with him, sat next to a dumpster.
"Stay... please? It would be nice to have some company" He chose to leave behind the detail in which he would have dreaded to be alone in his last moments. It's not that he didn't say it because he couldn't accept it, he did, well, he did as much as a 9 year old kid could grasp the concept of death, but he simply didn't want to scare him away.
He looked as bright as the stars he always dreamed of heading to as a kid, which regarding the situation would be the closest thing he will ever get to achieving a dream of his.
Bright in all senses, not only he looked smart, the kind of 'know it all' guy, but also literally bright, his golden locks and the cream coat made the light bounce off of him, making him look like a shining star.
The boy sat back down beside him, the warmth radiating off of him wasn't enough to save crowley, but it still was sort of comforting.
"Yes, of course, i uhm- my name is Aziraphale, nice to meet you" he handed out his hand with a smile towards the sick boy.
"Such a mouthful of a name huh-" he said has he took his hand, shook it, and kept it near his heart. Heavy breaths could be heard trough the air.
"Yeah i guess so...are you sure you're alright...? If you want i could help you clean those blood stains" Yeah, those marks on his dark jacket he had now long forgotten, they were at the bottom of the list of all his worries right now, he cared so little about them that he wasn't even sure it was from his bleeding nose or the blood he'd been coughing up these last few hours.
"My parents, they got divorced."
"Oh, i'm sorry to hear that..."
Crowley stayed silent for a bit, he wasn't sure what he wanted to achieve by telling a stranger about his problems, maybe he just wanted to feel light once again, maybe he wanted to have the illusion of feeling comfortable.
It always comes down to maybes.
"My dad, he- he got custody after my mother kicked me out. I'm not too fond of it though"
"That sounds lonely"
"It's really not, i got to meet soooo many wonderful people once i moved here" he said sarcastically, aziraphale was impressed how he could joke in such conditions, he wished he could have done anything to help, literally anything would have been better than this.
"But as i said, it's fine really, i probably won't remember this by tomorrow"
"YOU'RE HIGH?"
"What? No?" Crowley snorted, being sarcastic could almost be excused, but laughing is a whole another thing. Laughing phisically hurted in his conditions, the more he laughed, the more he found himself spitting blood on the sidewalk, gasping for breaths. He found himself smiling, he had made up his mind long ago and was sure he'd never be able to laugh again, yet here he was, laughing along with a strange kid under a small awning.
"...My name's Crowley." the other looked at him perplexed for a second before returning to his original position. Crowley did seem to mind the lack of response but chose to say nothing as he laid his head on aziraphale's shoulder instead, thoughts running wild while he was getting exponentially more tired as time passed.
Aziraphale knew something wasn't quite right with that crowley-boy, but he couldn't exactly place his finger on it, he wasnt stupid, but he felt so so tired, so he relaxed for the first time since he first saw that the red haired kid.
"Do you.." Crowley started speaking, words barely above a whisper "do you think i'll ever reach the stars, walk the moon...study galaxies?"
Oh how much it hurt to dare and dream, but maybe, just maybe, he will be able to do so one day, if he just had the guts to tell the boy next to him what was happening.
Maybe tonight he could be able to eat a full meal, go and take a hot shower and finish this terrible day laying under some warm covers hugging an equally warm boy.
He could grow up and become an astronaut, he could grow up and follow his dreams, his teachers always said he was very mature and smart for his age. He could grow up and experience love and being loved. He could grow up.
"Do you think the moon is made of cheese?"
Such a pity that the answer came just a moment too late.
Aziraphale only realized something wasn't right approximately 2 hours later, when while stargazing he moved a single strand of hair out of crowley's face, finding him instead white and delicate as porcelain but cold and full of blood everywhere as his still heart.
His dad reported a file for a missing boy 14 hours after he first stepped out of that house that evening.
His body was reported 4 hours after the time of his death, it was signed under "suicide", oh how far could that had been from the truth, he never once whished death, he just embraced it.
"Do i belong in right and wrong? One dies alone and why? Don't know.
Goodbye, so long
To mice in homes
Nature i guess"