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Aziraphale watched as his fellow angel pressed the button. The lift was blinding, and he’d forgotten how heaven was made up of various degrees of immaculate white. He’d grown used to the imperfectness of humanity. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was probably the best thing about humanity. Everything was different even when they claimed otherwise. They’re always different, even in the most diminutive forms.Aziraphale twisted his gaze to Metatron; he eyed him for a moment, then turned back to the door. Aziraphale watched the door open. He walked off the lift and fell into step with Metatron. He looked around, and it was so quiet; even his steps didn’t make noise. He’d never heard silence like this in a long time. There was the quiet of mortality, and then there was this. Aziraphale’s eyes felt heavy; he turned to Metatron and smiled softly, but it hurt to do so.“Is there… erm, a place I could be alone?” Aziraphale’s eyes furrowed as he tried to blink away the heaviness of his eyes. What was wrong with him?“Yes, of course,” Metatron nodded, “you’ll need some time to think after all that mess,” he scoffed, “demons are so dramatic, aren’t they?” He nodded reluctantly as Metatron motioned towards a hallway, a hand on his shoulder. “That way, you’ll find a room. It’s Gabriel’s old quarters.” Aziraphale nodded in thanks and began walking, and he felt himself fall apart bit by bit as he got further from the angel. His shoulders were heavy, the back of his eyes was itchy, and his hands shook violently. He opened the door to the room and looked up. There were large windows that looked out and onto the rest of heaven. The large windows let in infinite light, and a pure white bed was in the centre. His eyes widened at the space. It was so unnatural. Aziraphale stood still, suffocated by the silence. Water dripped down his eyes, rolled down his cheeks, and fell to the floor. He lifted a hand to his eyes, touching the water, his fingertips catching one of the droplets. Aziraphalestared at it as more fell. Angels could cry?Aziraphale felt himself become distant with that word by the second. Angel. He didn’t feel very angelic. To put it bluntly, he actually felt like shit. Tears spilt out of his gaze. He held his eyes, worried they would fall out as he collapsed. Aziraphale sobbed while he held himself; he didn’t quite know why. Everything felt dizzy as he thought back to Crowley. Crowley looked so mad, like Aziraphale had killed someone. Did Crowley hate him?He pulled himself up, removed his coat, and tossed it onto the bed. He struggled a breath and waved his hand. A record player and a stack of records appeared. He hoped Muriel wouldn’t notice its absence. He felt his stomach shift and hoped Muriel wouldn’t sell the books. Aziraphale held his head in one hand and, with the other, picked one of the records. Aziraphale couldn’t bear to hear his thoughts. He eyed the black record. Tears dripped from his eyes. Crowley had gotten it for him after he got particularly tired of his unknowingness when it came to music. He knew the other angels would scoff at his connection with it. More tears fell at the thought, but he continued. He pulled the record out and played the B side, lowering the needle.
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Aziraphale gave a sad laugh as he heard the first lyric. It was one of those songs that only appeared after a fortnight in the Bentley.
Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
(Take a look at yourself)
Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry)
Lord, what you’re doing to me? (Yeah, yeah)
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can’t get no relief, Lord
He smudged away his snot and tears, sitting back down and watching the record spin. He loved how it filled the silence. Aziraphale’s tears streamed down his face, but it wasn’t much of a song to cry to.
Somebody (somebody), ooh, somebody (somebody)
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
It was just him, a sobbing angel huddled up to that turntable like a fire. He felt like a child. He understood why Crowley liked this music so much. It had him written all over it. The quickness of it, the simple emotions the singer yelled. The ways it mimicked classical but stood different. It reminded him of Crowley. Aziraphale pulled himself up, his tears falling faster from his face. He gasped for air as he thought about Crowley; Aziraphale turned away from the record player.
I work ’til I ache my bones
At the end (at the end of the day)
I take home my hard-earned pay (goes home)
All on my own (goes home on his own)
He stared at the floor, trying to catch a breath, but felt even more strangled with every gasp.
I get down (down) on my knees (knees)
And I start to pray (praise the Lord)
‘Til the tears run down from my eyes
Lord, somebody (somebody), ooh, somebody
(Please) can anybody find me somebody to love?
Aziraphale wept as he held his head. He was thinking about that moment. He had a hand to his lips, trying to wipe the taste of his lips off and get rid of that sinful pleasure Crowley.
Every day (every day), I try, and I try, and I try
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I’m going crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
I got no common sense
(He’s got) I got nobody left to believe in
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Aziraphale held his eyes shut. Crowley tasted like everything he was supposed to hate. Like eating citrus sweets, enjoying fine wine, dancing to lovely music, hoarding books, and tempting each other to lovely dinners and lunches at the Ritz. And he loved it. He’d loved it for 6,000 years and would love it for another.
Ooh, somebody, ooh (somebody)
Anybody find me, somebody, to love?
(Can anybody find me someone to love)
Aziraphale sat back down, his hands shaking. He summoned his wings to soothe himself. He remembered watching the stars and comets as they burned brilliant rays of colour with Crowley’s wings above Aziraphale. He’d done the same for Crowley when the first raindrops fell, refracting the light as they left the clouds. He wished he was here now; maybe his wings could stop the tears.
Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat (you just keep losing and losing)
I’m okay, I’m alright (he’s alright, he’s alright)
I ain’t gonna face no defeat (yeah, yeah)
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
One day (someday) I’m gonna be free, Lord
Aziraphale twisted his eyes to the record player without moving his head. He let his wings drop to the ground, slumping down. The other angels would despise him at the sight of his wings. He looked around; it had been mere minutes, and he had already gotten rid of the perfection of the bedroom. His heart ached; how did he manage to be so incompetent?
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
The song quieted, then chanted the lyrics. Aziraphale sighed, blinking rapidly to stop the tears. He whispered along to the music. His hands delicately falling into the habit of waving along to the music, Aziraphale felt guilty for doing so.
Somebody, somebody, somebody, somebody
Somebody find me
Somebody find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Aziraphale softened his glare. He didn’t have the heart to stop the song and watched the record spin. He wished he had another chance to explain himself. The flow of his tears slowed down. If Aziraphale did this, they would never need to run away. They could just be happy. Why couldn’t Crowley understand that he’d never run away with him? He wanted to be an angel again, never feeling guilty for doing the right thing. So he would never question his existence as he sat in the middle ground. He wanted that pleasant feeling of finding a new favourite thing to last forever as he loved Crowley, as he kissed and caressed Crowley, as they cuddled to keep warm on winter nights and broke bread during summer mornings. He wanted to hold Crowley and feel whole, not enduring guilt.
(Find me somebody to love)
Ooh
(Find me somebody to love)
Find me, somebody, somebody (find me)
Somebody, somebody to love (somebody to love)
Find me, find me, find me, find me, find me
Aziraphale closed his eyes tight. He waited.
Ooh, somebody to love (find me somebody to love)
Ooh (find me somebody to love)
Find me, find me, find me somebody to love
Anybody, anywhere (find me)
Anybody, find me somebody to love, love, love, love, love (somebody to love)
Find me, find me, find me love.
Aziraphale let the other songs in the album play out, imagining Crowley with him.