It was a hot summer day, and the hospital was almost empty; ideally, Yashiro tended to visit Satoru on these types of days.
He entered Satoru's room quietly, closing the door behind him.
"I'm here, Satoru," he said to the sleeping boy. Yashiro's eyes glanced at the younger's face, his pupils softening.
Satoru, of course, didn't answer. Although his internal clock has stopped moving, his body has continued to grow.
Yashiro's right hand caressed one of Satoru's pale cheeks. "You're in the age I consider the most beautiful," he delicately whispered. Satoru was certainly not a boy anymore- although his body had already changed slightly, his face structure was become more hardened and definite. The boy was still not a man yet.
Yashiro knew that he would still love Satoru all the same anyway.
Yashiro, too, was a man's whose time had stopped, at least mentally. He wasn't a young teacher anymore: his body had gotten older, less athletic, and small wrinkles could be seen on his face. But inside, mentally, he was the exact same as he was years and years ago; the one who tried to drown Satoru in that river, and the one who saved him as well. The teacher had spent the last decade regretting his actions.
He leaned gently, slightly lowering himself on to the other boy; his lips touching Satoru's. It was a delicate, almost caste kiss, as if he was afraid the boy with chapter.
Yashiro was confused by his subconscious. Why did he do that? Perhaps he was hoping a sort of fairy-tale ending? The sleeping "princess" being awoken by his true love? No, that was silly. It wasn't a pure carnal desire.
It didn't matter to Yashiro. He wanted the boy inside of him. If possible, he would like to be connected to Satoru at all times.
"Would Satoru enjoy it if the two of did it?" he thought to himself, unbuttoning his own trouser and grabbing his erection, furiously grabbing it with his left hand, the other still on Yashirio's cheek.
"Satoru would," he thought to himself, almost sure. Why else would Yashiro spend so much time pinning for the boy?
He came, his knees giving up, and he fell to the floor, his semen spilling on his hand and the floor.
"What a waste," he thought, looking at the white substance in his hand. He pressed a finger dirtied with semen into Satoru's mouth, leaving a trace of himself into the boy.
He cleaned his hands, and then the floor, pondering about a kidnapping. He thought about it several times, but he wasn't that easy; maybe he could influence the hospital.
Well, maybe next week, he could come at night...and then, you know, carry it out. He left the room, thoughts circulated on the idea.