005 ☨ sorry seems to be the hardest word

[benevolist]

Characters: Aziraphale and Alice?.
Location: Their apartment.
Time: Late afternoon.
Style: First for speed but I AM SURE WE CAN TL;DR.
Status: Closed like a angsty is sad.

[ Aziraphale didn't bother counting how many days it had been since Sanae had left Vatheon. He knew that counting the days would do nothing more than make the pain worse; he knew

Comments

[protagonized]

[Alice? had been doing nothing but sitting against the wall, staring at the art supplies on the desk. He hasn't had any desire to try to do anything with them...but they almost seem sadder, sitting there on the desk, unused. Mr. H had drawn and painted all the time, but...

He can't bring himself to even pick up a paintbrush.

Everything simply seems duller, slower, as if he's still in a daze...which he is. A part of him still wishes--prays, hopes--that Mr. H will come back, but he knows better.

He won't.

But even knowing this, he can't just...move on.

The knock surprises him, and he blinks--blinks away wetness in his eyes and frowns at that, drawing a sleeve across them quickly.

Then he smiles, sadly. Tea...]

Alright.

[And he stands and goes to the door and opening it, expression still sad, but not devastated.]

[bibliothecaria]

[ The angel smiles down at the boy weakly, turning and making his way back to the kitchen. Being strong for someone else was something he had become used to over the years, but this was so much harder. The boy's life had been damaged and it was up to him to try and repair it.

It was a daunting task at best.

He moved around, pottering like an old woman, fixing the tea and placing the teapot out on the table with the mugs. Aziraphale wasn't aware of how his new housemate liked his tea, so he left the milk out, the sugar beside it after he heaped a spoonful or three into his own.

Holding his cup gingerly, waiting for it to cool a little (he refused to cool it with his Will, he wasn't Crowley) Aziraphale turned to smile at Alice. ]

How are you feeling, my dear boy?

[protagonized]

[He takes a seat--and there's something very homey about this entire scene, but even thinking so hurts so badly--and watches, tiredly.

It has been so long since he has had tea, and...well, he can't remember if anyone ever made him tea. Maybe...? One day, in the past that he doesn't remember?

He wishes he knew, and also, irrationally, wishes that this were coffee, not tea.

And he likes tea more, but if it were coffee it would be more like home--

But he takes it for what it is, adding some sugar and some milk as though making the tea is second nature; and maybe it is, he doesn't really know, even as he answers.]

I'm...okay.

[He looks up, worried as well.]

What about you?

[bibliothecaria]

[ Aziraphale watches him carefully, unsure for a long moment. Then he sighs and sits down, careful not to make too much noise with the chair. There's a calm, gentle silence around them that he doesn't want to disturb.

But is he okay? He doesn't think so. He's going through the motions of being alright, but he's losing his will. He knows that something will have to come and snap him out of this soon or he'll be lost in it, and he hopes, desperately, that it would be Sanae's return. But he knows that won't happen and he knows that he will be relying on Crowley.

He can't let Alice know all this, though.

He lifts the tea to his mouth, enjoying the slight burn as he swallows. Leaning back in his chair he keeps his smile up though it remains weak and hesitant. ]

I'm doing as well as can be expected, I suppose.