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He doesn't take a car to Crowley's apartment. He simply appears at his doorstep, gathering courage as he talks himself into going inside.
A note appears as he reaches for the doorknob. It's doesn't turn.
Don't you dare come back here. Not after what you did to me.
He can feel the malice in Crowley's words. Can feel the pain they put off, as if by magic.
He wonders silently if he should listen. If his actions were too much to make up for, but he can't bear the thought. Not even for a second.
He snaps his fingers and lands in Crowley's bedroom, opening his eyes as he prepares himself for what he might see. Crowley is on his side facing away from him, scrunched up in the fetal position with his arms wrapped tight against his chest.
There's a tartan blanket around his shoulders. Aziraphale recognizes it from his bookshop, and his heart skips a beat.
"Oh, Crowley ." He says into the silence.
Crowley doesn't respond. or even move. It's as if Aziraphale wasn't there at all.
Aziraphale sighs, and resolves himself for a difficult conversation.
#
Crowley can feel sad blue eyes on his back. They make burn under his skin more intense. Harder to control. He counts to ten in his head and the blaze restarts anew.
He doesn't say anything as Aziraphale stands there. He decides to ignore him until he leaves. Until the message is as crystal clear as he wants it to be.
Leave. Get out. Let me be .
We could have been us .
Fuck .
Aziraphale sighs and Crowley can practically feel him slump his shoulders. He waits for something to happen, holding a breath he didn't need.
"Oh, Crowley ."
Hearing that voice brings every emotion back again. Feeling his presence makes Crowley want to crawl out of his skin. The pain is restless. It ignites something beneath the surface. An agony he hasn't felt since the Fall.
He wants to scream, to run away, to burst into flames. He clenches his fists, and tries his best not to tremble through the force of holding himself back.
"Get out ," he breathes, his voice an inferno. Aziraphale doesn't move and it makes him angry. "Get out !"
"Crowley, please —" Aziraphale's words are tearful. He jumps, but doesn't leave.
"Get out !" He shouts it this time and whirls on Aziraphale so fast the world dips around him. Tears leak from the corner of his eyes. Sparks erupt from his fingertips, filling the room with streaking light like stars.
Aziraphale staggers back until his torso hits the wall. Crowley stares at him with a mixture of regret and anger, his glasses eschew on his nose.
Tears well up in Aziraphale's eyes, and he sobs, like he had after their kiss. A hand hovers over his mouth, shaking.
Crowley can't take it. He throws himself back down onto his bed again, curling up until his face is pressed against his knees.
His shoulders shake and he tries to suppress a shudder. The image of what he had done replays in his head like a broken record, reminding him of what he was. Of what they were.
He sobs, like a child, the heat gone from his voice.
"I told you to leave ."
Aziraphale shakes his head, wincing. "I-I won't. Not until you listen to me."
Crowley rips off his sunglasses. He throws them across the room and against the wall. They shatter. Aziraphale follows them with his eyes, and looks back up to stare at Crowley. His shoulders shake. He still doesn't move, the message not clear enough to make him understand.
Crowley groans. "I don't want you here. I don't want you near me. It's too painful, Angel. It's too much."
More tears spill down Crowley's cheeks. Aziraphale can see suppressed sobs wracking his frame, his lungs working too fast to provide any substance. He watches the display with a deep frown on his face. He wipes his eyes with his hands, coming to a decision.
"All right," he says, stepping forward. Crowley doesn't stop him, back to ignoring his existence. "I'm leaving, but let me say one thing. I know I've made a mistake here. I understand that completely, and I understand that you don't want to be anywhere near me. I even understand why."
He twists the ring from his pinky finger, holding it in his palm as he speaks.
"So, I'll go. Because this isn't healthy for either of us." He holds up the ring. Crowley isn't looking at it. Or at him. He simply remains still on the bed, now barely breathing at all. "I'll leave this here, as an invitation. If you want to hear me out, I'll be back at the bookshop."
Aziraphale places the ring on the table beside Crowley's bed. He gives him one last, longing look before he moves to leave the room.
Halfway through snapping his fingers, he says, "And I am sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you, Crowley. More than you could ever know."
Snap !
Aziraphale vanishes. Crowley remains rigid on his bed for a long time, afraid to look back. Afraid to see those eyes again.
His heart pounds in his chest. He sobs into the blanket, a broken, shaking mess.