Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 5 of The Author & The Photographer
Stats:
Published:
2024-11-11
Words:
1,317
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
29
Kudos:
59
Bookmarks:
5
Hits:
563

Spiral

Summary:

From the world of 'As Yet Untitled'.

When Aziraphale goes away on a book tour, Crowley struggles with spiralling thoughts. The path to healing has never been an easy one.

Notes:

This little story will make more sense if you have read the main fic first, but for those who haven't, here is the important info:

• Crowley suffers from fear of abandonment and childhood trauma
• Aziraphale is a relatively famous author
• they've been through a lot before finally becoming serious, which includes Aziraphale having left Crowley a couple times
• they are both in therapy and are working towards healing

CW: spiralling thoughts, self-hatred, depictions of mental illness from a first person perspective

Work Text:

The thing is, they'd known it was coming, had known for over a month, and yet still hadn't prepared themselves enough for when the time finally came around. They wanted to say it was because they'd forgotten, or because they'd had so much more on their plate, but the truth echoed around their mind like a terrible secret they were burdened with. Crowley hadn't accepted that Aziraphale was going on a book tour without them. They outright hated the idea. They'd internally squirmed and screamed at the prospect of being without him for weeks on end, but had they voiced this discomfort? Of course fucking not. In the name of progress.

Okay, that part was bending the truth a little. Their therapist had pointed out that they often hid behind their aggression. Now, Crowley had never been one to hide when they were angry or upset, that certainly was true. They'd often been referred to as the grumpy one, or the sarcastic one.

Snarky comments and cold shoulders. Storming off or yelling at their plants. Crowley had learned to channel all of their pain into tiny explosive bursts because otherwise, who would listen? Their mother certainly hadn't, not even as they'd left her for good. For years they'd tried to talk to her about how they felt and she never listened. So now, yeah, they made sure everyone could see how annoyed they felt. Could sense their distaste. And if it got a little much? Sure, they'd been known to scream at the sky.

Apparently, that was not a healthy way to deal with things.

So, not telling Aziraphale how upsetting the idea of his leaving for a few weeks actually made them feel had seemed like the right option. Bottle up all of that clingy, undesirable crazy and swallow it down somewhere deep, never to resurface. Instead of questioning, Crowley had smiled and congratulated their love on his success. Instead of begging him to stay, they had helped him pack and driven him to the airport. It all felt so easy, so simple. Just act like this was okay, and it would be.

Except, once Crowley was alone, everything began to fall apart.

Because in the silence, there was nothing. No shuffling from the room next door, no gentle breathing by their ear, no clicky-clack of a keyboard in use. There were no smells of baking or takeaway sushi, no tea and biscuits or passive humming as pages were turned quietly. The cottage was so still with just Crowley here, and all too painfully they were reminded of their sterile flat back in London. There had been no sound there, either. Just Crowley. And their thoughts.

No one. They were so very alone. Just their own internal voice to listen to.

Right, I need a distraction. First things first, gardening. That's why I'm here after all, to make sure the vegetables grow well. Who else would shout at them? It's fine, this is fine, and Aziraphale will message me soon to say he's landed anyway so there's no reason to get all worked up over it. Just water the plants, do some weeding, get back inside. It's fine.

Somehow, the morning seemed to fly by, and it was soon dinner time. Crowley didn't feel too hungry, so they instead opened up their laptop and began checking over the latest article, editing and procrastinating as best they could. As suspected, their phone pinged around the time Aziraphale was expected to land in Rome and they felt tension dissipate across their shoulders as they reached for the device. Relief turned sour as they took in the image that had been sent across.

It was Aziraphale, all smiles and bright eyes, with Anathema leaning in close and scrunching her lips into a kiss. She was the one who took the selfie, of course, using his phone. Underneath, he had written a small message: we are here, safe and sound. The signal isn’t particularly good, so apologies in advance. I will contact you when possible, dear!

“He didn't say I love you.” Crowley spoke to no one.

Oh, shut the fuck up - you see, this is why no one likes you. Bloody self obsessed lout, always the victim. He's just landed, give the man a moment! He won't be thinking about you, he'll be thinking about taxis and duty free and hotels and such. Just consider yourself lucky he even thought to message you.

I mean… he messaged because I asked him to. What if I hadn't asked?

He would've. He loves you.

He just… forgot to say it. It happens.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. Stop it now, stop stop please just stop thinking about it, everything is FINE.

Yeah but remember how he left you before? So many times he's tried to escape, oh God, he doesn't love you - us - me - he doesn't love me he just feels trapped and oh this trip is a way out isn't it? No wonder he didn't seem upset when I told him I couldn't go.

Okay, no, that's stupid. Aziraphale wouldn't lie, he doesn’t lie. He said he would never lie to me.

Isn’t that what liars say?

Shut up!

No but it makes sense, doesn't it? Because I'm a fuck up. He's better off without me.

How come Anathema got to go, anyway? Like, yeah, sure, she organised all the meet ups, but couldn't she do this remotely from her laptop? Why the fuck does she get to go? He was so happy to have her there. Did neither of them even consider me?

Selfish. Stop it.

They're the selfish ones, sending me happy faces when they know I'm here alone. They hate me, I HATE THEM. I need to get out of here, they're all liars, everyone lies, no one loves me, it's just a trick, it's cruel, I hate it, I hate them, I hate me-

Right, now, that’s enough, remember your breathing exercises. Actually, FUCK breathing, who can breathe when the air is so thick? I can't even inhale without my chest tensing, ugh. I need air. Fresh air. I should go outside.

Okay, bit better. Stupid fucking birds, shut up, I can't think! Right, try to see this logically. Aziraphale is just busy. He's just busy! There's a lot happening for him right now, and he'll be anxious, so very anxious, we need to be there for him, not plotting against him.

Why do I feel resentment?

I hate myself.

I hate Anathema.

No, I don't.

Fuck. It’s too open out here. Bentley. Get in the Bentley. Touch the leather, feel the coolness. That's… that's better.

I could drive away from all of this. It's not fair for them to put this pressure on me. To leave me alone knowing what I go through. Why would they do this to me? I'm worth more than this. I should just drive away. I should really… go.

And if I'm wrong, it doesn't matter. He's better off without me anyway.

Everyone is.

Their phone pinged again. Aziraphale, and three simple words: I love you.

Overwhelmed, Crowley immediately burst into tears and dropped their head against the steering wheel. Their entire body, which had cramped from tensing, began to shake and they screamed until their throat gave out. Eventually, their strength waned and they slumped into the seat, licking their dry lips and realising that they really should respond to their partner before he suspected the relapse. It would be embarrassing to admit they'd let themselves get into that headspace over something as small as this. They quickly sent back ‘love you too, angel’ before rubbing their face and sighing.

Could you get back inside where it's warm? Came the response.

Crowley barked a bitter laugh and shook their head. How did you know?

I know you.

They smiled.

Thank you.

You’re most welcome, my precious darling. I miss you already.

Series this work belongs to: