Sheraton Academy

Boats and Birds

Rating: PG-13. Warnings: self harm scars, mention of suicide attempts

"Craig?"

"Mm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Mm-hm. What's up?"

Cal bit his lip and buried his nose in the back of Craig's neck. He'd half-hoped Craig would be sleeping, because he knew his burst of courage was going to fail before he had the chance to roll up his sleeves.

"Cal?"

"Sorry," Cal muttered. Craig barely heard it, muffled in the back of his neck like that. He turned around in Cal's arms, leaning close enough for their noses to touch.

"What's going on?" Craig asked.

Cal's eyes darted down to Craig's mouth. A stalling tactic. Look anywhere but his eyes, where the judgment would be.

"Um... I, uh..." Cal stammered. He squeezed his eyes closed and his nose scrunched up. He opened them again when Craig gently kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Cal?"

"I just, um, I wanted to show you something. We've talked about it, but you've never seen it, and I think... it's time. I think I'm ready."

"Cal? You're not making sense." Craig furrowed his brow and leaned closer, but Cal gently put his hand over his boyfriend's mouth. He pressed, softly, as a physical, "Please be quiet. Just, let me do this, okay? Or I'll chicken out."

Craig nodded. Cal loosened his hand, and when Craig didn't speak, he pulled it away. He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, then swallowed hard and slowly started to roll it up.

Craig still hadn't said anything by the time the scars on both arms were bared. Cal didn't know if it was because he'd asked his boyfriend to be quiet or if it was because he was disgusted and didn't know what to say. It had been a year since his suicide attempt, and most of the scars had faded to a silvery pink-white, hard to see in the dim light of the late night. But the light from the lamps out on the grounds filtered in through the window and into Craig's room, landing right on Cal's arms and chest.

He looked down. He covered his face. He took in a deep, shuddering breath, and a half-sob came out when finally, Craig wove his fingers into Cal's hair.

"Can I speak now?" Craig asked.

Cal nodded, but didn't drop his hands.

"I love you," Craig whispered.

Cal's next breath wasn't quite so staggered. He sniffled, and he jumped when Craig's lips pressed against one of the largest scars, on the back of his arm.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

Cal shook his head.

"Yes. You are. I have something to show you, too, okay?"

Cal nodded, but still didn't remove his hands. Not until Craig gently lowered them down. His boyfriend's sleep pants were down around his hips, his boxers shoved down, too, to show a hatchmark of scars on his thigh. Just peeking above the fabric was the top of the dark blue ink of a tattoo, but not enough to make out what it was in the dark room.

"Craig?" Cal whispered. His eyes darted from the scars up to Craig's face, unsure of where he should look. Finally, he settled on his boyfriend's eyes.

"The months after my parents died weren't easy," Craig whispered. His face was still pointed toward Cal's, but his eyes were angled down. "You weren't the only one who tried. Cutting just hurt too much, so I tried with pills."

"You never told me," Cal whispered, as if Craig didn't already know.

"You had so much going on," Craig said. "I didn't want to pile this on top of it. I'm fine now. It was a long time ago. I figured... it could wait."

"Thank you for finally telling me," Cal said. "I know it's not easy."

Craig nodded. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and his throat bobbed with uneven breathing. He swallowed, and when he laughed, it was joyless and wet.

"Yeah," he said.

Cal gently tugged Craig's pants back up to his hips, and Craig rolled Cal's sleeves back down. It wasn't a secret Cal liked to keep – he wished he didn't have to – but knowing someone else understood... it helped. Even if it was just a little.