I'm back from the Underworldd!
Sorry, some things weren't very well in the last months, and in top of all I get accepted in University, so my inspiration just decided to copy Eric (y'know, that demon that Crowley explodes because he was annoying) and basically rEDUCE ITSELF TO ASHES.
Anyways, enjoy <3 (my Inbox in twitter is always open for suggestions)
(Note of February 13th: THE S3 TRAILER JUST GOT POSTEDDDD)
Another morning. Another day getting up with the vague taste of wine and deception in his serpentine tongue. What time was? Eleven A.M? Maybe Twelve? Or three in the afternoon so he can be compared to the mighty son of that entity which kicked him out only for a ques-?
...alright, I'll shut up.
Today he was in a Good mood. One was strangely "good" enough to want to stop rotting inside the Bentley and choose to pretend to be a "Functional Demon with delusions of creating chaos" (something that, in the eyes of Heaven and Hell, he wasn't since Aziraphale had ascended to the Golden Gates).
Aziraphale... Aziraphale.
How much time had passed already?
How many nights had he dreamed of those blue, star-filled pools that the Principality called eyes?
How many times had that gaze "tormented" him, finding himself thinking of him all the time? Even this "chaotic but productive day" had just slipped through his fingers at the mere thought of the (now) Archangel...
OK, OK! ENOUGH AZIRAPHALE FOR AT LEAST ONE HUNDRED-
Perhaps one hundred years was excessive. One hundred years for them was barely a breath. A blink in the millions of centuries of its existence.
He started the car, trying to look triumphant, choosing to turn on the radio to "see what humans are up to." He didn't expect to land on a station that was "strange" by his standards, one that apparently only played songs considered "hits"; he decided to stay on it, to see if he recognized any songs.
"Another One Bites the Dust," a great song.
"Má Chérie," too sweet for his taste.
"Hayloft II," better than the first.
"Take me to the church", eh... he preferred not to talk about churches (but, hey! at least he had a good memory and a ''I-Was-Wrong'' dance with that!)
It was hit after hit, each song better than the last, or at least... until he got to one.
"Love of My Life" by Queen. The same song that had played in his head a million times when he saw Aziraphale get excited about a first edition book and start telling him the story of the blessed copy. He changed it, landing on another that, although a tremendous song, did nothing to clear his mind. "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy."
—Ughhh... You've got to be kidding me... —he muttered under his breath.— Are you the one doing this? —he asked the Bentley, which flickered the dashboard lights on and off as if to tell him no.
—Is it you or isn't it you? —he asked again, though the car didn't answer him. He let the song play at a low volume. Choosing to play dumb so it wouldn't hurt while he drove, he arrived at what seemed to be the outskirts of Saint-James Park, deciding to drive around it just for the heck of it.
Just as he began his "ride," the other song started playing. And the harmonious voices of ABBA filled the air: he didn't recognize the song, not being a big fan of such "cheesy" songs, though the lyrics made him think this was really just a joke by the Bentley.
Just as he was about to unleash his fury on the Bentley, something outside the window caught his eye. And, oh, he knew that sight of almost pale, curly blond hair all too well.
He stopped the car. He seemed to be talking to someone, someone out of Crowley's sight, someone who made his eyes gleam, someone who made a pit of poison and sulfur rise in the ex-demon's stomach; before, it was him Aziraphale was looking at like that, it was him walking beside the angel while pretending to hate him... And now it seemed he was someone else
He considered go and talk to them. Not to Aziraphale, but to that mysterious person: to warn them of this "game" that God decided to call "Love". To tell them a hundred lies born from the drunken pain of not being enough for his angel.
And maybe, if he did, he would have noticed that Aziraphale wasn't talking with anybody. Actually, he was praying to find Crowley and maybe the thing that the demon watched was another angel.
However, he decided not to. Even when his mind only wanted to search explications, even when his inmortal heart burned with jealousy, even when he felt like vomiting acid and sulfur. Because right now, he was sure that if Aziraphale dared to look at him, he would only fall at his feet and beg for the forgiveness that he never begged to God.
It seemed like the saying was true. "One look and you're hypnotized". The now "Supreme Archangel" had stolen his heart, and he was paying a price even worse than being trow out of the pearly gates: the pain of not being loved back, or even if Aziraphale did love him back, he'll never say it out loud in heaven.
But even so, he WANTED to look at that angel eyes, because when he looked at that beautiful blue he felt like heaven and hell didn't exist, that with only one look of Aziraphale on his serpentine and demonic form they could create their private paradise. Maybe that was the reason because he couldn't find the force to hate Aziraphale.
Alright, maybe the Bentley was right with the song. Or the radio station. He still haven't decided who to blame for the melody.
And the fucking lyrics were also right.
Oh, how many sleepless nights had passed since that ''I forgive you''? How long has it been since that sudden and desperate kiss? He has to admit that, in his loneliness, he frequently found himself thinking of Aziraphale, his tongue searching the air for traces of the angel, his eyes scanning the look outside the Bentley in hopes that the blond man will be there, waiting. And every fucking time that he hadn't found him, all his corporation started to hurt, like if it called for the principality, starting to wish every single time that Aziraphale would Miraculously (heh, ''Miraculously'') appear in the other side of the door of his car, to hear his voice one more time calling him "Dear Boy''.
For the first time, it really seems like the memories hurt. Like if every ''nice'' moment (''I'm a demon, I'm not nice, I'll never be nice, 'Nice' is a four letter word and I'm not!") was now coming to bite him, to unleash a gross, savage and monstruous rage that had started to cook since the beginning of the time. He always blamed her. The entity that choose to give him life and then banish him like a error, like he wasn't something more than just a pebble on her hipothetic shoe (if she wore shoes, I guess), or just an experimental specimen; on his eyes, everything he loved was stolen taken by them, and didn't really understand how they called theirselves "The good side", ''The paradise'', when the only thing they do is take away all the things that matter to him and make Crowley feel like his life was being stripped away.
... It'll be always like this? When he think about Aziraphale... It will always hurt? It will always remind Crowley of all the desperation he felt when the angel left?. Maybe the solution was erase the angel from his mind entirely. Or just ignore his existence and-
No! By Go- By Sat-... BY ANYBODY, NO!
He decided that a long time ago; He wouldn't try to forget Aziraphale. How could he forget the only angel that didn't look at him like he was nothing more than a burden?
Love is weird. Even so when he found himself missing everything of the archangel; his eyes, his clothes (oh, that stupidly cute bowtie), his smell, his mannerisms, HE. And didn't think about consequences, about good and bad, about how he could do ANYTHING to bring Aziraphale back because, fuck, he was hypnotized, he was making himself a paradise without giving any chance to the negativity to come, and wanted to look at Aziraphale every hour, every day, every week, every month, every century...
Oh, he was crazy for his Angeleyes.
Even if he had to go back to the beginning of times, to create stars, to ask stupid questions, to fall again to hell, to get his serpentine form crawling one of Eden's wall, and to repeat that first phrase (''Oh, wow, that went down just like a lead balloon...'')... he would. Because, if that was the price to pay for loving an angel, he would let his heart being taken every fucking time; he would look at Aziraphale and imagine a heaven just for the two where he wouldn't think about someone else, or treachery, or punishment...
A touch on the window make him to flinch, not even noticing how the Bentley hasn't moved, or how he didn't think about moving the car. And, well... he knew that "Tip-tip-tip'' with a golden gleam on the glass.
—...Nope, nop, nop, nop. I'm a flying serpent, hissss. Don't look to deep into this serpent eyes.
—Oh, dearest, don't be silly... Come, I think we both had a date with the other,and so many things to talk... In The Ritz, actually, at nine.
gummygunk
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turnnoffyourmind
jacobvanloon
tangentwithtanner
dailybridgerton
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