Crowley knew he was always wasn't good enough.
He didn't fit in anywhere, not in heaven when he was casted out for asking questions he needed answers to, neither in hell where he wasn't evil enough.
Personally, Crowley thinks he was as horrible someone can get. Unlike Hastur or Ligur who tempted humans to evil, he had tempted an angel to evil. He felt pride while the angel indulged in his desires, a sight he cannot bring himself to look away from. He was fit to be a demon actually. Because Crowley was a liar. He lied from little stuff like his reports downstairs, Job's goats and to himself. He lied to himself, because running away was never an option yet he still believes in it, like how he loved and loved until it was too late.
He used to ask, back then, "How much trouble can I get for asking questions?" He'd found the answers to that the hard way, being dropped in boiling sulfur as his wings turned into black but the pain of falling cannot rival the constant emptiness of his chest where he used to feel the unconditional love of the almighty, which was ironically, not unconditional.
She only loved you when you were Her perfect little angel, obeying Her orders despite anything, even when many died, like the flood — the elderly, the children, innocent creatures — no one was spared from Her wrath. Water that was the essential need of humans and creatures alike, turned into a weapon of their demise.
"Why?" He had asked, "Why? Why? Why?" He didn't understand. "Why find themself drowning and dying for something they needed to live?"
She never answered his questions. But now he could understand.
He could only find the strength to blame Her for everything, as he couldn't blame the angel he loves. Without him, he has no will to live, yet he still cannot bring himself to go.
"I do not have the strength to get up, am I born to kneel before you?" He had said, finding the comfort of darkness enveloping him into a hug like a mother he never had. He tried to reach out to the only source of light in the room — an open curtain — wanting to bask in the sun, craving its warmth like he once had when he had a sun of his own.
He was once a starmaker, he used to marvel at the sights of his creations, shining brightly even as they reach the end of the time they were given. Yet, for all the stars in the sky, he only wanted to see a pair. Hidden in those blue eyes, the pair that he would never see once more.
Because for the first time, Crowley felt like he was good enough. He was good enough to just be in Aziraphale's side, on their side. But Crowley cannot afford to feel like he belonged, because he was Crowley and nothing never ends well with Crowley. Nothing lasts forever.
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I think this is actually pretty good for my first fic in the fandom :0
Pls dont forget to leave comments, id like to read them ^^
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☆ azicrow oneshots!
Hayran Kurgui got too lazy to repost every single one of my oneshots in ao3 so i decided to compile them in one book! contains: hurt no comfort, hurt/comfort, fluff, crack, angst Srry for the lazy cover this time :,D
