White Wings and You
Chapter 8 – it all comes to an end

They lost. Outa teased Wakato, saying that his words to that reporter had cursed them. Seigaku had been stronger than expected. ..And for the twins to go down from some weird drink... had been unexpected. Inui.. He felt terribly familiar, Takahisa thought. Could it be.. that Inui, who got him interested in tennis together with Yanagi? But then where was the brunette? They were always together as far as he knew..

He was brought from his thoughts as arms snaked around his waist and Wakato's nose buried itself in his neck.
"´hisa.. Do you think it's my fault.?" Wakato asked, voice muffled by Takahisa's jersey. "Did I curse us?"
Takahisa chuckled, taking the cap off the redhead's head, fingering the white material and looking at the Jyousei Shounan-logo on the front. "Do you believe in witchcraft, Hiroshi?"
"No."
"Then I don't think it's your fault.
Standing on his toes, Wakato leaned his chin on his shoulder. "You think so?" he smiled, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. "Arigato ´hisa."
Takahisa turned his head, letting their lips lock in a soft kiss.
"Don't mention it." he said with a small smile playing on his lips.


During the invitational camp he became sure that it was that Inui, when he saw him talking to Yanagi. He didn't know if he was happy or maybe a little scared that they might remember him. It would of course be nice if he was remembered, but at the same time it would be good if they didn't... But disappointing. He was pretty sure that they wouldn't recognize him, though.

Therefore it came as a big surprise when they came up to him, one evening after practice.
"Kajimoto Takahisa, right?" Inui asked. "You don't happen to be the same boy as the one who was shying around the courts near Seigaku years back?"
Takahisa nodded. "I didn't think you'd remember me." he admitted, Inui and Yanagi sitting down next to him in the sofa.
"I never forget." Inui said, Yanagi telling him the same.
"Ah." Takahisa nodded. "Well, nice to meet you again."
"Same to you." Yanagi smiled.
"I don't know if Youhei and Kouhei would agree." said a voice, and Wakato sat down on the armrest next to his boyfriend. He glared at the two data-men, eyes saying "hands off, he's mine". Yanagi and Inui exchanged amused glances, but neither of the Jyousei-players noticed, since Wakato was running a hand through his captain's hair, Takahisa leaning back against the touch.


After the invitational camp was over, Takahisa didn't show up to school. Why was it always like that, Wakato wondered where he sat by his desk, looking at the blonde's empty seat.

"´hisa... What happened to you?" Wakato asked when the violet-eyed boy showed up three days later, a black eye and a bandaged hand. A dressing had been taped to his forehead.
"I fell down the stairs." Takahisa said. It wasn't an entire lie, he had fallen down the stairs, or threw himself down them so he wouldn't feel entirely like a liar, but he only got a few of his bruises from there. The rest came from when his father, in drunken rage, had lashed out on him for not having been home.
He held back a wince and grimace aw his side ached. Luckily, most bruises weren't visible due to the clothes.
Wakato locked him in a careful embrace, as if sensing that it would hurt him if he hugged him as tight as he wanted right now. 'What would you do if I said I don't believe you for a second?' he questioned in his mind. He rested his closed eyes against Takahisa's shoulder, hiding the up-side-down smile from view. Takahisa blinked slowly as he felt something hot against his shoulder. He wondered if he had made Wakato cry and apologized silently in his mind.

The team watched them in silence, suspecting that something was very, very wrong.


Kosuke grunted as the phone rang and reached out to pick up. "Kajimoto." he muttered, annoyed that someone dared to bother him.
"Hello. This is Kajimoto-kun's coach at the tennis club." a woman said in his ear. Kosuke's eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to tell him that there is no morning practice tomorrow, I'm calling since he and Wakato-kun disappeared before I could tell them. Could you tell him?"
"It's not here." Kosuke growled and ended the call.
'It?'
Hanamura wondered, blinking down at the telephone ear piece.

Takahisa fingered his lips as he walked down the street on his way home. They were tingling, red and swollen from kissing Wakato. As soon as practice ended, Wakato had pulled him with him to the white house that the Wakatos resided in. He'd been there many times now and loved it. The house, the people who lived there, the atmosphere. They had accepted him easily, even the fact that he'd practically 'turned' their son gay. A small smile played on his lips as he unlocked the door. Closing and locking behind him, he froze. His father wasn't in the living room. He peeked into the kitchen, but it was empty. He looked into his father's bedroom, but couldn't spot theman.

He carefully stepped up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible. Suddenly Kosuke stood before him and Takahisa took a step backwards in fright.

"Fa-father-" He took another step back as Kosuke took a step closer to him.
"How dare you? A filthy little monster like you!" he hissed. "Getting involved in that vile sport!"
Takahisa's breath hitched. He knew. How did he know? Who told him? He shivered, scared, eyes wide, as his father took a tight grip on his hair, tugging him up to eye-level.
"You know how much I hate that sport! You want to play tennis? Pha!" With that, Kosuke threw him back, making Takahisa fall backwards down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a small mewl of pain.
"You're worthless." Kosuke said, slowly walking down the stairs, glaring with disgust and hatred at the boy cowering on the floor. "Disgusting." he continued. "Filthy." One word for each step down. "Monster."

When he reached the end, he kicked the boy in front of his feet. "You took everything away from me, son of a filthy whore! You deserve much worse than this!" He crouched down next to Takahisa, pulling his head up by his hair. He watched the tears slipping down a pair of cheeks. Then he spotted the red-kissed lips. He dunked Takahisa's forehead into the floor, a small yell of pain escaping the blond.

"Just as much of a whore as that bitch, huh?" He dunked Takahisa's head against the floor time after time, Takahisa getting more quiet for every hit. When it finally stopped, his whole world was spinning around. He felt sick, needed to throw up. His head snapped to the side, a fist connecting with his cheek, soon followed by a kick to his ribs. A tearing pain shot through him and he thought that he would die. His father would kill him and no one would know.
He was rolled up on his back and punches rained down on his body.

He didn't even have enough energy to make a single sound.


He shivered. 'I'm.. dead?' he wondered. He forced an eye open, seeing the empty hall, hearing the sound from the television.
He wasn't dead. Surly his father wouldn't be there if he was dead. Suppressing a whimper, he pushed himself up into a sitting position. It hurt so badly. But he needed to get out, just for a minute. 'School' he thought. 'It's time for school.'

Unusually cold outside. Empty streets. Darkness. Cold night winds. The few passing didn't spare him a glance, or they just didn't notice the badly beaten kid walking in the shadows.

When he reached school, he went on autopilot to the gym where the indoor courts were. Empty. The door to the changing rooms were unlocked. He forgot to close the door, too much effort and concentration spent on moving. He saw something glint in the light from the open door, taking it in his hand. Not really thinking about it. Collapsing on the floor in the showers.

He looked at the object in his hand. A razor. Probably forgotten by one of the few members of the club who needed to shave. He thought about his racket, lying in his bag, broken to pieces by his father. The two tennis balls he had, cut to shreds. The small notebook where he wrote down whatever came to mind, his only confidant when it came to his father.

The badly written poem about Wakato, about tennis, that he had written on one of the pages. He was horrible at poetry.

His father's words echoing in his head. "Filthy." he whispered, grip tightening around the razor. If you hear something enough times, you will eventually start believing it. He thought his father was right.

As he placed the sharp edge against his wrist he remembered someone once saying "down, not across". He hadn't understood at the time. He moved it more to the middle of his wrist, pushing and piercing the skin. Once blood leaked out, he moved it up his arm, towards the crook of the arm.

It felt good. The pain felt good. "Deserve this.." he murmured, watching a second cut form on his arm, a third cut, a fourth, fifth, sixth. He couldn't stop, switching to his other hand. Clean, straight, red lines of blood, cuts deeper than he intended.

As both arms were filled of cuts, he paused.

It wasn't enough. Not near enough to make up for the worlds he had crushed. He had crushed his parents worlds. In silent anger, he stabbed his leg, a small whimper escaping his parted lips. He needed more pain. Another stab, another and another. His breathing was ragged and his hand was shaking, so he had to grip the bloodied razor with both hands.


Hanamura was about to lock the gym up for the night when she thought she heard something coming form the changing room. The door was open, which was strange. All the boys closed the door, since Takahisa was careful about that. It was as if he expected that something would attack from behind if it wasn't closed.

She entered, but didn't see anything when she turned on the lights. A weak and quiet sobbing was heard from the shower room and she stepped into the room, stopping in fear of what she saw.

There was her captain, half sitting, half sprawled on the floor, a bloody razor in his shivering hands, that stabbed weakly at his own body, tears streaming down his face and sobs racking his body.

Hanamura rushed forward, gripping the boy's wrists to get the razor out of his hands. The only thing Takahisa noticed, senses dulled by pain and blood-loss, was that someone tried to take away the small comfort he had managed to find. His hands were cut when he squeezed tighter around the blade.
"Kajimoto-kun, let go." Hanamura tried, at a loss of what to say, she tried to pry the razor out of his grip, feeling Takahisa start to panic.
"No!" he gasped, trying desperately to bring the razor down on himself, eyes wide. "Need to- Don't-!"

When Hanamura managed to get the razor from his hands, the boy started to shake uncontrollably, until finally collapsing on the red-stained floor.
Hanamura quickly called for an ambulance.


Takahisa curled up where he sat in the hospital bed. It hurt to move, but he was used to ignoring it. It felt like the bandages were covering him everywhere, trying to strangle him and there was thin tubes attached to his arms, providing him with some liquid he didn't know what it was. A gas mask had been thrown to the floor.

Why couldn't he just die? It was as if he failed everything, he couldn't even kill himself properly.

Though suicide hadn't been on his mind at the time, he was sure that he would do everyone a favour had he just died there. Had Hanamura not found him he would have.

He winced, scared, when a hand placed itself on his shoulder. He turned, seeing the worried eyes of his coach. The other regulars stood by the door, Wakato paler than he'd ever seen him. The cap clutched in his left hand, Takahisa's small, black notebook in his right. Takahisa stared at the notebook. Why? Why did he have it? Had he read it? Did he hate him now? Think he was just as disgusting and filthy as his father did? He turned his eyes away, head bowed.
"Kajimoto-kun." Hanamura started. "The police have arrested your father."
Takahisa's head snapped up, the eyes that had been closed for a moment wide open in fright and despair. "No. That's not- That's not right! It's my fault, I-!"

He lost the ability to speak when an arm wrapped around his arms, another resting gently on the side of his head, a head leaning on his shoulder. He could feel warm tears burn the skin that wasn't covered by bandages or hospital robes. Wakato.
"Don't think like that! How could it be your fault! You're the victim here, don't blame yourself!"

Takahisa felt something inside him shatter and he gripped the back of Wakato's shirt tightly, hiding his face in his boyfriend's chest, he cried his heart out while Wakato stroked his back.

"It's gonna be alright now, ´hisa. You've worked hard. Gokurousama." Wakato murmured into his hair.

THE END


So much happened in this chapter, even though it's not very long. Tell me what you think?