i think freckles, stretch marks, tattoos, bruises, birthmarks and scars are probably the coolest thing, you started with almost a blank canvas and look at u now, all this evidence that you’ve lived and the sun has shone on you and you’ve grown and maybe tripped up a few times and liked an image so much u made it a permanent part of u, beautiful

adamandriel hospital au

Adam and Samandriel are two teens who’ve landed in Kripke’s Youth Psychiatric Ward after suicide attempts. They end up as roommates and the kindred spirits find themselves becoming closer and closer until they’ve blurred all labels to define their relationship. But neither knows what this means for their mental states.

Adam wakes up to light sniffling and quiet noises in the middle of the night. He sits up and blinks, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, and calls out: “Angel face?”

The noises come to an abrupt halt, but Adam knows it was Samandriel. He adjusts his shoulders, then stands and pads over to his friend—roommate—crush—Samandriel’s bed and kneels down next to him. He’s turned on his side, facing the wall, so Adam pokes him in the side. “Mandy, I could hear you on the other side of the room. Tell me what’s wrong?” Samandriel shakes his head in clear refusal to turn around. “Mandy,” Adam singsongs, “I’ll get it out of you eventually. I’m the Almighty Adam.”

Samandriel’s sniffle turns into a slight laugh, and he turns. Adam squints through the darkness and sees Samandriel’s eyes are round and puffy, and there are tear tracks down his face. “Hey, hey,” he says, reaching up to wipe some of the tears away. “Whoa. What’s happened?”

"I was just thinking," Samandriel says. Leave it to Samandriel for his voice not to show any signs of crying when he’s been crying for about an hour. "I’m having another one of my Bad Days."

Uh oh. Samandriel’s Bad Days are long and strenuous. They require hard work and lots of Samandriel knowledge. They’re caused by some kind of trigger, and usually can’t be stopped until the trigger is talked about, resolved, or stopped. “Can I do anything?” he asks, wiping more tears.

"No, I just… Adam, why’d you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Try and kill yourself?"

Adam goes stony cold. He doesn’t like talking about that dreary October day, and everyone in group knows it. Especially Samandriel. He stood up for Adam when Adam said he really, really didn’t want to talk about it. Samandriel didn’t care to talk about his own story, as a matter of fact. Adam often thought they respected that about each other. They even stood up to their psychiatrist, Mrs. Barnes about it. They didn’t want to share. It was personal.

"Well, like I said in group," Adam says, trying to placate his crying friend. "I didn’t like who I was. That was that."

Samandriel shakes his head. “What you tell Mrs. Barnes and what really happened are two different things,” he says. 

Adam moves his jaw, and decides it would be better to tell Samandriel then to lie. More. “Alright, kiddo, but this is a long story. Scooch.” Samandriel moves over on his bed to make room for Adam, who climbs up and aligns them perfectly—from head to socked feet, Adam and Samandriel—though Adam sits slightly taller—fit perfectly together. Samandriel turns his head to listen intently, and Adam stares ahead at the nothingness before them.

"My mom died in September," he says. "She was about all I had. The kids at school weren’t my friends. I was too busy working two jobs to support me and my mom to have friends. She had cancer, you know, so I was paying all her medical bills plus groceries and rent and et cetera. It wasn’t the best time in my life. Then she died, and, of course, everything got worse. I had no one left—literally. No relatives. My dad had disappeared; they couldn’t find him, didn’t know anything about him besides his name. So I was a System Kid. I never wanted to be anyone’s burden, anyone’s problem—so I took the easy route." He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real mirth in it. "Or, I tried. My social agent stopped me." He glances over at Samandriel. "What about you, Mandy?"

Samandriel squirms, then looks out the barred window next to his bed. “I’m the youngest of eleven children,” he says, “and I grew up in a fairly religious household. I had three sisters and seven brothers.” He looks back over to Adam. “About one out of every five children are queer. At least. So it was no surprise when one of my siblings—Gabriel, only two siblings above me—came out. And it was less of a surprise when my parents disowned him.” Adam winces. Poor Gabe. ”So when I came out, the disowning was even less of a surprise.”

Adam reels a little, stunned by the new information, then comes back. He and Samandriel never really talked about sexuality or love or preferences. They just were. 

"So it’s just me and Gabriel and our sister Anna, now," he says, looking out the window again. "The three outed queers. Our brother Castiel—the unouted queer—is going to come live with us soon, when he’s done college." Samandriel smiles; apparently Castiel is someone he holds very dear. "That will be fun. Cas used to be my closest and favorite sibling when we were younger. We grew apart, but I like to think we could be close again."

Adam can’t help it when he reaches down and intertwines his fingers with Samandriel’s and squeezes. “Yeah. That’d be good for you.”

Samandriel gives him a small, shy grin, then looks down at their hands and continues. “Right after I’d moved in with Anna and Gabriel, I was, of course, very depressed. Didn’t know how my parents could do this to me, thought no one cared. Still think that. Often. Far too often.”

Adam squeezes his hand again. “I care.”

"Thank you, Adam." He clears his throat and looks away again. "So I was unhappy. Unhappy I felt that way, unhappy I’d upset my parents. I was unhappy enough I tried to kill myself. So. That’s that."

"So what was the trigger today?"

"They sent a box of my stuff. And an official letter of my disown-ment. They don’t care I’m here, Adam. They don’t care I tried to kill myself. I’m just more paperwork for them."

Adam sighs. “Samandriel, you can’t let them get to you. So your parents are homophobic assholes. So what? Let ‘em be. It has no impact on who you are. And you have friends and siblings and people like me and Mrs. Barnes who care about you, and that’s what matters.”

Samandriel turns his head and gives him a watery smile. “I’d like to believe that. But I—”

Adam moves forward and kisses Samandriel on the mouth. Samandriel makes a noise of surprise, but then quickly gives as good as he gets until Adam pulls back. “Still afraid no one cares, Angel Face?” Adam asks, eyebrows quirked.

Even in the dark, Samandriel’s blush was brighter than the sun, or a heat lamp, or Becky from group’s personality. “No,” he says bashfully, and ducks his head.

"Good. Now get some sleep. You’re gonna need it if we’re gonna explain to Mr. Hendrickson tomorrow exactly what I’m doing on you bed." And they fall asleep like that—hands intertwined, perfectly aligned from head-to-toe, and blissfully home.