Dinner Is Not Over
Part 1
You say something's wrong
The engine finally stops after 4 hours of driving carelessly through the London streets, Crowley doesn’t seem to know how, when or why he arrived at their apartment.
— “Life must move on right?”
No one answers.
The boxes in the backseat have started to lose stability, the more the moisture of the plants is in contact with them, the worse they get, as soon as Crowley notices this he takes them out, one box at a time since he doesn’t have help this time, it’s very tedious really but at least it keeps his mind occupied, although not for long, once all the plants are secured in the second floor of the building he starts spiraling again, thinking about the confession, the kiss, but above all about Aziraphale, they have never been not together, maybe he should’ve gone to heaven, be holy again, just to be with the one that he had forever loved; but then again how could he go to that place after all he had seen, they were the ones that punished him oh so badly just for questioning god and not following her blindly, but wasn’t that the reason that he got into such a high position in the first place? And even worse, didn't god make her that way? Why was she responsible for being the way she was if another person made her specifically that way?
NONSENSE
Worse than all, heaven tried to kill the angel, HIS angel, destroy him forever just for saving life, why if he was so good did Metatron not intervene then? What if they hadn’t changed their bodies? Both of them would’ve died.
Ever since the fall Crowley didn’t care that much about his own life, he never really admitted it, but he knew that god could take anything she wanted away from them, at any given time, that's why they restricted themselves from feeling, from caring, from getting attached, because they knew that if they did it all could be destroyed, it had been once and nothing guaranteed him that it couldn’t happen again, but here on earth they had so much more that she could ever have anywhere else, they were loved and cared but above all they were needed, and that was his mistake, letting his ward down, and allowing themselves to feel, to care, to love, and just like thousands of years ago, all of that was stolen from him, ripped in seconds leaving his word shredded.
But none of that was important anymore, he had all the time in the world just for himself, and he sure could use it.
First thing Crowley did after having such a sad revelation was getting into the Bentley and driving to the closest liquor shop, what a nice sound it was the one of bottles clinking against each other and how nice did it felt to not make the right choice for once, to behave the way that everyone expected him to, to live up to all those nasty comments and beliefs, it was clear as day that the little man chasing him since 3 blocks away was never going to be able to catch him, of course Crowley had the money to pay, but he just needed some thrill, although not positive he surely was feeling something, call him whatever you want but at this exact moment he was doing 1000 times better than when Aziraphale left.
After arriving in an absurdly short amount of time to his flat Crowley decided to get right at it, apparently in such a hurry 3 bottles have broken leaving irregular shards of glass both big and small, sharp and flat; and whiskey splashed all over the suitcase, Crowley’s cold hand starts digging into the bag where the bottles are, hurting himself with a few of the smaller shards, when he manages to take a hold onto one of the bottles his hand were already bleeding, it was such a twisted picture to saw the creature that had once saved the earth and guarded it for so many years from gods oddballs, thrown on the floor drinking a disgusting mix of the red liquid emanating from their hands mixed with the liquor coming out of the bottle all while watching the sculpture that looked so different than him, so ethereal, so triumphant,so elegant, and for that same thing to felt the same way that he did, cold, hard and inert, if u would’ve been there at the time you wouldn’t have been able to differentiate which one was which, same pulse, same temperature, same tint, in fact with each gulp Crowley lost more and more of his humanity until they were nothing more than a bunch of bones and skin, muscles and blood held together by something that didn’t let him live nor let him die, the weight of those 6,000 years began settling in, all those years they had been with the angel, they had felt him sometimes so far that it was very faint, some other times so close that he believe that with a wrong movement they will merge together becoming the same energy, but as of now he couldn’t feel anything it felt lonely, it felt empty, it felt WRONG.
Crowley’s thoughts weren’t stopping and neither was his drinking, more and more time passed and with each minute more empty bottles were filling up the flat, the initial cuts on their hand had already stopped bleeding but with each bottle that he take out new cuts surface his skin, tiny red drops decorating the view with tiny red splashes, some of them were in the floor, some others in the top of the bottles, a few of them in their arms and face, but the majority were mixed with the liquor giving it a new rusty taste.
The booze had made up effect and the flat felt so quiet, she could quickly fix that, she got up and take the first vinyl that she could grab it was one from Maggie’s shop, rightnow, there were not that many people that know what they sell, but that girl had at least an idea of what she was charging for, her previous generation wasn’t as enthusiastic as her, the dark circle started spinning just like Crowley’s head when he stood up to turn on the music, his head is such a cruel mean place that with just a few sound waves is already thinking of someone, someone that it’s not here, someone who won’t be here.
He gets up and stops the music, almost falling to the ground due to the fast movement, but that is not enough, soon enough the smell of burnt plastic has filled out the entire apartment, Who even needs music? Or company? Or love?
Crowley takes another sip of the bottle, he feels so tired, this body wasn’t built for this, and after all he’s been through just this day alone he finally sleeps.
