Constants. They are each others constant. And while it's been incredibly obvious for a very long time, there was also a very long time where Aziraphale didn't face what that really meant for them. He almost threw it all away because he didn't know where he stood. But he does now, even if he's still learning to consolidate being who he is, with what he is, where he is. But he's always been a little different from his kin, always bent the rules a little, so it's not like the difference is as extreme as it could be. And Crowley, Crowley's always been there with him, specially when he was not himself, not yet.

A gentle, lingering kiss. He pulls back after a few seconds, keeping his hand on the side of Crowley's face, looking into his eyes. Not searching, no, he knows what's in there, he's seen into his soul now. But he still looks, and he hopes his own sincerity rings clear.

"We will make it." In this moment, he can believe it. He can begin to believe that, if Crowley helps him.