A Blip in Our Lives ~ Crowley x Aziraphale

The Deal

After a few minutes, he heard the door open, revealing a worried Crowley, "Angel? What's going on?" They asked, quickly crossing the bookshop floor, reaching Aziraphale in a few seconds.

Aziraphale felt his heart break as he took a deep breath, "We... We're not friends anymore. I just wanted to tell you face to face. Goodbye Crowley." He blurted, struggling to keep his voice steady. Crowley paused for a long moment, Aziraphale's words slowly sinking in.

"Aziraphale.. Why..?" Crowley's voice trembled as they asked, grabbing Aziraphale's hand, in which he quickly pulled away, turning from Crowley, unable to look them in the face, nor did he want Crowley to see his quickly forming tears.

"It doesn't matter. We're hereditary enemies, good and bad. We don't mix. You need to leave now." Aziraphale forced out, lying to himself and Crowley and he couldn't tell which hurt more. Crowley stood there shocked for a moment before scowling and turning away from Aziraphale.

"Fine then. Have it your way angel." They growled and stormed out, their sunglasses the only thing hiding their tears. As soon as the door to the bookshop shut, Aziraphale let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, his tears quickly spilling from his eyes. He shut all his blinds and just sat at his desk, his tears dotting the wood.

Crowley slammed the door to their Bentley shut and just sat there for a long moment, their tears welling up under their sunglasses. They shouted profanities as they started to drive, speeding off towards their apartment. They turned on the radio and as it started to play 'Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy' they immediately shut it off. The first thing they did as they got inside their apartment was grab a bottle of whiskey - thinking it more appropriate for the situation than a bottle of wine - and drinking straight from the bottle instead of pouring it into a glass like they usually would've.

They cried as they drank, looking through old photos of them and Aziraphale, wondering where the hell they went wrong. They knew Aziraphale was bull shitting when he 'explained' why, if that was even an explanation in the first place. Their demonic vs angelic nature had never been an issue, why would it be one now?

Crowley drank until there were multiple empty whiskey bottles dotting their apartment, the only liquid in them now were a few of Crowley's tears as they made their way to their room and let themself fall onto their bed, a half-finished bottle of whiskey clutched in their right hand, spilling a bit onto their sheets before they drank the rest of it, their tears long ago having dried without any water left in their body to cry as they slowly drifted off to sleep, their dreams to be filled with them and Aziraphale.

Meanwhile in the bookshop Aziraphale was laying in his bed, curled up around a pillow and sobbing into it. He didn't sleep that night, crying until his eyes dried and became heavy from exhaustion and he just silently laid there, staring blankly at his wall, regretting his decision. But he had sealed their fates for the next 600 years and maybe more and now he had to deal with the guilt of that choice, of knowing Crowley was hurt because of his actions, of knowing that Crowley had most definitely been crying under their sunglasses because of his actions, that if the two of them couldn't recover after the 600 years, it'd be all his fault. Aziraphale didn't get even a wink of sleep.

The sun rose the next morning, assaulting Aziraphale's dry and red eyes, exhausted from crying for so long and being open all of the night before. He stayed in bed for a long time, just staring at the sun before finally sitting up, a hollow feeling filling him, weighing him down as he slowly shuffled out of bed. He didn't bother making breakfast or eating anything for breakfast, it's not like he needed to anyway and he didn't have the energy to do so anyway. He didn't even have the energy to read.

He just scribbled out a new sign for his door that read; 'Closed until further notice' and hung it on his door before closing the blinds on the door and sinking into his chair at his desk, contemplating everything. His heart hurt and it felt like it would kill him soon. He felt hollow but also like a 50 pound weight had been placed in his stomach, weighing him down.

In Crowley's apartment, they didn't wake up until late in the afternoon, their head pounding from how much they drank last night. They had a moment of peace as their eyes cracked open before everything that had transpired the night before crashed into them like a tidal wave. In a fit of rage they chucked the bottle of whiskey that had miraculously stayed in their hand all night long at the wall in front of them , denting the wall and shattering the bottle, the shards of glass littering their floor.

They groaned, knowing they'd have to clean that up before they hurt himself on it. Sure they were practically immortal in most cases but it'd still hurt like a bitch if they stepped on the glass. Not as much as Aziraphale leaving them without the decency to tell them the real reason he did, but it would still hurt nonetheless. As they cleaned up, their emotions were like a whirlwind inside of them, and none were good, anger, regret, sadness, guilt, and pain to name a few. As soon as they finished cleaning their floor they went out to the liquor shop and bought a lot more bottles of whiskey and a few other stronger drinks, knowing full well they'd barely last the week.

The next weeks passed in much the same fashion, Aziraphale stayed in his bookshop, isolated and alone, crying most the time, neglecting his books as they started to collect dust, if he ever ate he'd end up not doing the dishes so they started to pile up as did the garbage meanwhile Crowley obsessively cleaned their apartment, trying to ignore what they felt or tried to drink it away. One week their entire apartment would be a wreck, trash piling up, bottles everywhere and then the next it'd be spotless and cleaned to a Tee.