[ Aziraphale winds down eventually. Inevitably. He runs out of steam and then some, whittles that tangled mass of feelings down until he's scraped raw. Returns to something resembling normalcy on the metaphysical plane, a slower, wobbly orbit.
His head aches. He feels tired and extraordinarily stupid. How do humans stand doing this? It's too much.
But it is nice, the way Crowley muffled out more sound. Closed them in. Easier to bear. The way he's been steady and careful and, and accommodating. There are probably better words than accommodating. Gentle. Loving. Patient. ]
Right. [ Aziraphale sniffs. Tries to clear his throat. He loosens his grip a little bit, but finds he can't bring himself to pull away. Maybe if he doesn't move away, this doesn't have to be real and he doesn't have to actively be in the moment with it.
He can just hide from it in one of his favorite places to be. ] Terribly sorry. Thank you.
[ If he manages anything constructive today, it should be what he told himself he'd do. Terribly sorry. Won't happen again. Not enough expressions of gratitude in the world for Crowley's existence, as ever. ]
no subject
His head aches. He feels tired and extraordinarily stupid. How do humans stand doing this? It's too much.
But it is nice, the way Crowley muffled out more sound. Closed them in. Easier to bear. The way he's been steady and careful and, and accommodating. There are probably better words than accommodating. Gentle. Loving. Patient. ]
Right. [ Aziraphale sniffs. Tries to clear his throat. He loosens his grip a little bit, but finds he can't bring himself to pull away. Maybe if he doesn't move away, this doesn't have to be real and he doesn't have to actively be in the moment with it.
He can just hide from it in one of his favorite places to be. ] Terribly sorry. Thank you.
[ If he manages anything constructive today, it should be what he told himself he'd do. Terribly sorry. Won't happen again. Not enough expressions of gratitude in the world for Crowley's existence, as ever. ]