Alex Writes Good Omens - Tumblr Posts

Crowley watches him enter the lift and doesn't move. He watches and waits until he turns around, until the doors slide close, until the lift begins to rise higher and higher, until the blinding white light disappears.

Crowley waits until he is sure he is gone and won't be coming back.

It is the hardest thing he has ever done, and that includes clawing his way out of a pit of burning sulphur and suffering. The pain around his heart is the same: an aching pressure panicked and frozen as it tried to find a way to escape, to survive, just to be forced to face reality.

Living without heaven, without God, is doable, but living without him might kill him. Whatever is left of his soul is flowing apart like badly rotten fruit, covering his hands in foul black mould and dripping through his fingers in an attempt to follow him despite everything—even though the only way it can go, the only way he has always been able to go, is down.

Crowley drives away with his eyes clinging to the walls of the bookshop until they too disappear, and when he is confronted with his new reality (alone in the car, on the street, on earth, alone alone alone), he realises the hardest part is yet to come.

Living without him will be torture. Living with himself after letting him go will be torture.

Then again, Crowley thinks, breathing around the shape of his lips pressed against his own, so was loving him.