Seventy thousand two hundred and fifty mornings, seventy thousand two hundred and forty-nine nights have passed since he left and Crowley could do nothing but wait for his return like a loyal hound. He counts the days, the nights, patiently observing the passing of seasons, the change in the weather, the slow aging of everything that had life in his surroundings, the rotting, the crumbling of the flesh.
Waiting for him has caused disarray, and it's not like he wasn't in a mess already. And yet, no matter how much he tries so hard to focus on the tiny details to distract himself from his absence, he always finds himself in the point where everything just reminds him of him. The way he smelled, the way his footsteps struck the earth, even the rhythm of his breathing just somehow grips him and he realises that if this obsession is the price of the immortality granted to him, then he should have left him to die.
There is no luxury in this eternity if it meant without Ferid Bathory. There was no point in it if his benefactor only grants him this exhausting longing, this insurmountable ache. The void he left was a black hole sucking all the light in him, the pain was unfathomable as the deepest of oceans.
Days were slow. Life without him was turtle slow in its ebb and flow, in its its recession and its the surge. The wait was killing him. If he wanted him to suffer like this for eternity, then he should have killed him when he had the chance. He wanted a much more gentler passing, not this, not this terrible anticipation of whether or not he's going to come back to him.
On the seventy thousandth two hundred and fifty-fifth day, when he was tallying the days as per usual like a prisoner, he heard him enter. He heard him, even when he was just before the door, he felt him even when he was two thousand meters away.
"Crowley-Kun~ I'm back! Did you miss me?"
Missing was an understatement. Crowley did not miss him, he longed for him. And when Ferid finally sauntered towards him, his footsteps crisp, calculated, the cluttering of his heels blasting in Crowley's ears as he paused for awhile and pranced all over the room as excitedly told him about the jewellery he collected, how many pounds of gold and silver he gained and the wonderful places he went to, the red head shivered and was trying to hold back the urge to pin him down. Ferid finally stopped close enough to hold him.
"Crowley-kun did you miss me?" Ferid repeated, with a more exaggerated lilt to his voice.
Crowley tasted his words on his tongue like it was being passed to him with a kiss. It didn't have any sexual flavour, it didn't have with it the same ache and longing he felt in his chest. There was nothing but the tang of Ferid's usual tiresome tricks. And because of that, he was frustrated. He turned around and swallowed a lump on his throat.
Ferid tipped his head upward to look at his fledgling's face. He smiled and blushed. There was an innocent light in Ferid's eyes when he looked at Crowley just standing there trying to keep himself composed.
"Oh, darling…" Ferid pulled Crowley against him. Twining his arms around Crowley's neck.
"I missed you! I really really do."
Crowley pulled Ferid against him and lifted him up. He kissed his cheeks, he kissed his neck, his forehead, his bottom lip quite aggressively that Ferid was asking him to stop because he was ticklish.
"Crowleeeeyy~" Ferid whined.
Crowley bit his bottom lip and tightened his arms around Ferid, afraid that if he uses an ounce of force weaker, he's going to leave him again. Ferid understands and he submits to Crowley as he always did. He allows Crowley to cradle him in his arms and even cuddles against him.
"Ferid.." Crowley whispers, his voice serious.
What he was about to say was difficult, but Crowley poured them all out, the words that he had been practicing to tell him over and over again as he await his return.
"Don't leave me. Don't leave me like that ever again."
