Yashiro's eyes glisten, rolling back in pure bliss. The words repeat in his head as if those five years had never happened.
"You can't live without me."
He shudders, releasing a moan, groping his cock roughly.
"Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. ." He hums in a quizzical pattern, pausing once in a while to increase the pace of his stroking.
He imagines lifting the hospital bed's sheets, his calloused hands touching warm, soft skin, his somber face tightening in pleasure-
"Satoru!" he spills, fumbling over his erratic breaths.
He was right, the words carve into his mind. He couldn't live without him.
He collapses back on prison cell's bed's sheets, sighing contently. He needed-badly-to see him again.
Twenty years, was it?
Had he tried to kill him numerous times, numerous attempts failed and dispersed of.
Had he himself tried to cease to exist?
Yelling in aggravation and frustration.
But yet again, he was correct. He couldn't even succeed in following a well-planned procedure of target, kill, dispose of.
Because he knew.
The swelling hole inside him almost begged for his contents, his words.
"You filled that hole inside of me."
He slams his head into his hands, gritting his teeth.
"You can't kill me, because I'm the only one that knows the true you."
His breath catches in his throat, his heart beating rapidly.
He still remembers how the weight of his slumped body whiles on the wheelchair had felt before he descended down that rooftop.
He spends his days mostly remembering, and remembering well like a broken tape, the soul of a dream.
". .Satoru." Yashiro thinks out loud.
He hopes to see him again.
He falls back down into the sullen bed's mattress, closing his eyes.
He doesn't dream of him again.