Chapter Text
Crowley knew his fate was set when his mind questioned the unquestionable words of God, he remembered that day as vividly as the cosmos he designed. Falling through the sky, Crowley felt the heat of his creations against his burning wings. The pain was searing and bright, but nothing could hurt more than look to up and see the pedestal he used to stand on, still shining without its light.
Did he regret it? No, he did not. Crowley got to experience something very few even dream of. For millennia he was free from the confinements of caution and dedication, he was on his own side. Some may call it lonely, others may call it daring. Either way, Crowley was fine on his own, letting humanity muddle his line between human and demon. He was neither and both, a fallen angel and an out casted demon.
There was no true place for him, none but with the stars – the ones that showed him the light even after his pedestal had long dimmed. Crowley was fine being on his own side, because when the curtain finally closed on the confusing cocktail of life, he could say that he lived his life without regrets.
Well, except for one.
Crowley looked up at the tree, the tree that had caused the first mistake of man, the first impurity in the vastness of the universe.
He looked over at Aziraphale, the man – or rather angel that had changed his life – or rather, his death.
Aziraphale looked back at Crowley, eyes red and puffy. He couldn't help but smirk, cupping the cheek of the crying angel in front of him.
"Still too fast for you eh?" Crowley joked, eyes watering himself. Aziraphale let out a pained chuckle, leaning into the cold hand pressed against his skin.
"You were never too fast Crowley," Aziraphale said in a quiet voice, "I suppose I just didn't realize how quickly forever would end." He choked on his last words, real tears leaving his eyes in strained sobs. Crowley stepped forward and held Aziraphale close. Although he would never admit it, streaks of suspiciously tear looking liquid trailed down his face.
"To the world." Crowley whispered.
"To my world." Aziraphale muttered back.
They stayed like that for a bit. Maybe it was hours, maybe decades, time didn't matter now, perhaps it never did. What mattered was the angel – his angel, pressed against him in such a tight hold, Crowley wasn't sure he could ever escape, 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰.
Crowley always wondered what happened to the angels and demons that died, was there an afterwards for them, or did they just die? He supposed there was no true way to be erased unless one was taken from the book of life, but wouldn't an afterworld for someone purely good or evil erase the meaning of heaven and hell, of the illusion of choice? Crowley truly thought the most cruel thing one could do to the dead was to make them live forever. To promise mortality and replace it with endless suffering. Not just for hell, but heaven too, eternal happiness seemed exhausting and merciless.
The thing that made humans so interesting was their complexity, to confine them into one emotion would take away their very reason of life.
Crowley wondered if that's what caused him to wander from the others. His ability to let himself feel made it impossible to label him as either good or bad – he truly hoped his angel had realized that too.
"Crowley." Aziraphale spoke, breaking the silence that had become too heavy. "I think it's time." Crowley only nodded, knowing he was right but still squeezing just as hard.
After a few more selfish seconds of contact, he peeled himself from his other half and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
The two looked at each other, saying a thousand words with one stare. It wasn't enough – it would never be enough, but they stared anyways. Crowley still had his hand on Aziraphale's cheek, unable to let go for that was confessing he knew it would end.
Aziraphale seemed to think the same, eyes never straying from the man he loved so dearly. It would all end very soon, and start back up differently. Hopefully in a world that did not punish one for the simple act of existing.
The two leaned impossibly closer, noses brushing against each other.
"May I?" Aziraphale whispered. Crowley nodded, eyes bright and shining.
When the two met, it wasn't like last time, one could even say it was the opposite. It wasn't distraught and desperate, but careful and calm. Their lips met in a way that tried to make up for centuries of time wasted, and they milked every last second.
When they finally parted, it was less heavy than before. Somber still, but lighter as well.
"I forgave you a long time ago." Crowley confessed. Aziraphale just smiled, taking his hand and squeezing.
"You always do" he replied.