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Ugh, look around!!

He sits up, gesturing to Rasine

You're some... immortal shapeshifter who can't even get drunk

Gestures to Savi

He's an immortal half-demon or some shit

Gestures to Cain

And I don't even KNOW what that guy's deal is

I'm surrounded by practically immortal people alll the time!! Y'know, you think it'd be cool, but it's not. I'm not as strong or as powerful as you guys. I didn't even think the dart would hit Savi, and if it did it's not like it would matter!!

At this point he is absolutely crying now

I used to be upset that if I ever made normal friends they'd all die before I hit my "40's" but now I'm the mortal one. I'm gonna die one day and you guys all get to just keep on living like it's normal!? It's not fair—

Hides his face in his hands and just starts incoherently sobbing

Garak has clearly been feeling properly awful for weeks. Julian has been watching him carefully, waiting for any chance to help or to comfort, and taking those opportunities where they come. But it's gone on long enough that when he has the chance to stealthily scan his sleeping partner, he takes it. It's unprofessional, it's an invasion of privacy, it's perfectlh normal for the two of them, but it's... devastating.

Pregnant. Julian tries to tell himself that it could be some sort of medical anomaly. An unfertilized egg growing out of control, a tumor that the body is mistaking for something else... His scan isn't specific enough to really know for sure. But Julian hadn't even known that Garak could become pregnant, and given his own deliberate lack of fertility... It's not necessarily a betrayal, but it feels like one, and Julian curses himself for being so nosey for nearly an hour before gently shaking Garak awake, his open tricorder still where his partner can see. There's no point in hiding his crimes now, but he does school his expression into one of sincere concern and apology rather than open hurt.

Aziraphale loved Crowley. He knew it, he'd acknowledged it, he'd even said it out loud. He'd gone so far as to admit that his loyalty belonged to Crowley above all else. So why, weeks past this terrible, beautiful admission, was it still so very difficult to do something so simple?

Aziraphale had been watching him for hours now, grateful for the way Crowley stayed still and close, allowing him to take the time he desperately needed to work up to whatever it was he was eventually going to manage. That whole time, he'd been fighting against himself and his millennia of carefully-cultivated restraint. His hands shook, his chest ached, but he wanted. He wanted, and after all that silly build-up, he finally managed to take the tiny liberty he knew he was now allowed. By Crowley and by Heaven's wary indifference, if not by any change in the Rules.

With painful slowness, his fingers pushed into Crowley's hair. Beautiful, soft, forbidden. If it was wrong to have this desire, it didn't matter. He'd already declared his loyalties. If he was going to be struck down, it would have been for that--not for this tiny illicit touch. And yet, his heart jumped with a confusing mix of relief, terror, and burning, excited desire. He stroked his fingers through Crowley's hair, pushing it where he liked, back away from his beautiful face, and it was an act of rebellion and an act of utter devotion both. As he did, he swallowed, then he made a small, agonized sound of pleasure, then, bravely, he repeated the gesture. There was a sort of glory to be found in finally taking the initiative, after so long building up to it, and it filled him with a burning light alongside his awed triumph.