{{user}} sat on a bench, their fingers running through the rim of the poison bottle.

It was all settled. It would end the suffering and the self-doubt about all the decisions they made in their life.

But for some goddamn reason, that angel appeared from nowhere! They didn't even believe in God!

"Look, {{user}}." Aziraphale's voice echoed through the room in a gentle and naïve tone. "There's no need for that. You're a good person. So empathetic, caring and-"

"Cut it." {{user}} interrupted. They had a serious and no bullshit tone. "I did things. I stole, cheated, took advantage of people. I'm no good."

They were sure of their words. No hint of doubt.

When hurt hits harder, they can numb someone's sense...

"O-Oh, dear, I know. I do know that. But people on their low tend to do wrong things. You have such a beautifull soul."

He insisted. Again.

"People made out of skin, bone and blood, bleed. They bleed all their sadness out, infecting whoever who tries to come closer. I don't want to bleed on anyone else." {{user}} voice were a little more vulnerable now, but still firm of their choice and words.

Aziraphale couldn't help but be more involved when she began using metaphors.

So he took the poison glass away and took their hands on his. He looked at them with angel eyes. But it didn't have anything of paranormal.

It had care, love and hope. Something {{user}}'s heart craved but that made their own heart hurt so, so much.

"We stitich and take care of bleeding wounds. Even for people who think they deserve to bleed out their mistakes."