Disclaimer: Pot doesn't belong to me. Too sad, isn't it?
Rating: T
Summary: His boyfriend committed suicide. He is depressed. Will he manage to go on living?
A/N: English is not my first language; feel free to point out the mistakes I made.
Please read & review.
A life without you.
He smashed the door open and was petrified by what he saw.
He was lying in a pool of blood. His chest was barely moving up and down. More blood was dripping from his wrists. A penknife was still in his hand.
He barged into the room, phoning the Emergency Medical Service. He took a blanket and tried to stop the bleeding. Soon the piece of fabric was saturated with blood. He took off his T-shirt and compressed the injuries. It was useless. More and more blood was dripping out of the wounds.
He was now as pale as death. He was barely breathing. He opened his eyes with difficulty. He slightly turned his face towards his friend. He stared at him with glazed eyes, not really seeing him. Everything was blurry. A little smile was on his lips.
He came closer, kneeling beside him, trying to prevent him from moving. He looked at him, smiling as if to say that everything would be alright.
A single tear was rolling down his cheek. He let the little knife fall and cupped his friend's cheek with his blood-stained hand. He locked his eyes in his friend's and whispered a few words.
"I will always love you."
Hearing this sentence he touched the pale face of his friend and replied by saying the same thing.
Silence fell on the room. The only sound to be heard was the faint breathing of the boy lying on the white carpet, now totally saturated with blood.
A few minutes later he closed his eyes, his chest stopped moving, his hand fell back at his side. He was dead.
When the Emergency Medical Service finally arrived, the doctors found him hugging his friend's dead body. His blue cap was on the floor, stained with blood.
When he saw them he stood up, explained them everything and told them that he died a few minutes ago. He began to walk away while his friend was being put on a stretcher. He was called by a member of the medical staff.
"Are you Genichirou?"
He replied with a single nod. The man who called him handed him a white envelope.
"So that's for you. It fell from his pocket when we lifted him."
He took it and left the house.
He took part to the burial ceremony and left without talking to his friends and to the family of his dead boyfriend.
A few weeks later he went back to school and acted as if nothing had happened. He had to be strong for the team's sake.
Had it been for him, he would have given up tennis. Playing tennis without him was not interesting.
As time went by he began to be more and more withdrawn. He paid no longer attention to his surrounding.
His teammates were worried. For him to be cold was usual but to ignore Kirihara's foolish behavior wasn't.
Yanagi and Yagyuu tried to talk to him. In vain. At first he listened to them but, after a moment, he began to avoid them. When he saw them coming in his direction he walked away or acted as if he had something to do.
In reality he tried to go on, to live but the content of the letter he was given kept bothering him. The reason of his suicide, the reason why he thought life was no longer worth being lived.
He spent many time, alone in his room, thinking, analyzing the letter, wondering why he didn't come and talk to him.
He was also sick and tired of people thinking he was heartless, telling him what to do, that life is going on. They just didn't know how he really felt, that he was more than just a friend for him. Even if they knew, they wouldn't understand.
One morning he entered his homeroom with a little smile on his lips. He talked to his friends and yelled during tennis; practices. Good old Sanada was back and he was a little bit more open.
Yes, he was more open at school but at home he talked only when he had to and he spent most of his time either in his room or in the dojo.
His "cheerful" attitude was just a façade so that people would leave him alone. He wanted to be alone to think about his lover, about how their life could have been marvelous in spite of what was in this horrible goodbye letter. He knew it.
Little by little, guilt began to wash over him. It was his fault, he hadn't been present enough, and he hadn't paid enough attention to him, to the tiny little changes in his behavior.
Sleep began to flee him. He was up all night long reading the letter over and over again.
He went to school but he didn't pay attention to his teachers. The letter was always with him. In his book when in the classroom, in his pocket while playing tennis; it became an unhealthy obsession.
His friends noticed it but they weren't able to help him. He had started rejecting them again. Even his teachers and his family were powerless.
All they could do was watching him losing feet and slowly destroying himself. They tried to make him see a doctor but as he didn't want to be helped it was useless.
He stopped going to school a few days before Valentine's Day. Yanagi brought him his homework and the other tennis regulars came with him to cheer their vice captain up. It worked during the first few days. Then he suddenly stopped answering the door.
He no longer ate or slept. He was wandering about like a lost soul, pale as death, the cursed letter always with him.
On the eve of Valentine's Day he enclosed himself in his bedroom. At night when everybody was asleep he went in the dojo with his favorite and smallest katana.
He sat on the floor, took his shirt off, put the letter in front of him and began to meditate.
He stood up and opened the sliding door. Light entered the dark room. He stood there, hypnotized by the beauty of his garden bathing in the moonlight.
Snapping out of his contemplation he turned his back to the light and picked up his sword. He unsheathed his katana and ran a finger on the blade. Blood was beading from the tip of his finger.
He took the letter and clenched it. He held the little sword with both hand, blade turned toward him.
"Forgive me Seiichi, I tried to live without you but I couldn't"
He plunged the sword into his abdomen and slashed it.
He collapsed. A pool of blood was forming around him.
He whispered a last "Sorry" before letting darkness take hold of him.