Aziraphale (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bibliophale) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bigapplesauce2015-01-16 09:04 pm
bibliophale) wrote in bigapplesauce2015-01-16 09:04 pm
Entry tags:
Confession [closed]
He's sunk very low, he thinks, since he came here. He hasn't really given himself time to think about it properly, keeping himself busy, pretending everything is fine as he has always done, but tonight, inebriation has brought an unusual clarity. His conversation with Gabriel helped but did not heal. He has to tell Crowley what's happened.
He feels truly destitute for the first time since that awful month before the Rift took him, when he was alone, no idea where Crowley had gone. He's standing in the park in the small hours of the morning, hidden in one of the many dark spots of the Ramble, fussing angrily with his phone. Bloody thing. He has half a mind to throw it into the woods. When he's finally made it clear to Crowley where he is, or clear enough anyway, he pockets it and stands staring into the dark.
Crowley will likely scold him for making him come out here over something so inconsequential - it is inconsequential, he tells himself - but he doesn't care. He doesn't sober himself up, either. It will make this easier, if not more pleasant. It feels like he's about to deal drugs. Or something else, equally clandestine - isn't that what this area used to be for? He can't help but chuckle a little at that. Imagine them, meeting in the park like this, like-
Well. Like they used to do. More or less.
He sighs, takes his glasses off to rub at the bridge of his nose, and then looks up, replacing them, when he feels Crowley appear nearby.
He feels truly destitute for the first time since that awful month before the Rift took him, when he was alone, no idea where Crowley had gone. He's standing in the park in the small hours of the morning, hidden in one of the many dark spots of the Ramble, fussing angrily with his phone. Bloody thing. He has half a mind to throw it into the woods. When he's finally made it clear to Crowley where he is, or clear enough anyway, he pockets it and stands staring into the dark.
Crowley will likely scold him for making him come out here over something so inconsequential - it is inconsequential, he tells himself - but he doesn't care. He doesn't sober himself up, either. It will make this easier, if not more pleasant. It feels like he's about to deal drugs. Or something else, equally clandestine - isn't that what this area used to be for? He can't help but chuckle a little at that. Imagine them, meeting in the park like this, like-
Well. Like they used to do. More or less.
He sighs, takes his glasses off to rub at the bridge of his nose, and then looks up, replacing them, when he feels Crowley appear nearby.