Dr. Procreece {BoysLove}

Chapter 1

I hope this will work. I BEG YOU TO BEAR WITH ME FOR THE FIRST FOUR CHAPTERS. THEN THINGS GET ON TRACK. PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. I CANNOT BEAR THIS. THANK YOU GUYS. BYE. Peace out. -Abster.2014.09.08.

"Hello." I sat down at the desk, opposite to the young man they found for me, "So are you good at it?"

He had brown, wavy hair and a pair of thin glasses and wore a nervous expression, "Yes, very much, sir. I just got out of college, and still need a bit of practise. I am undergoing trainings currently and... I believe can be trusted as a private doctor."

I nodded with approval. A young man who was just out of college and had no experience. I told them so at the front desk, and my wish had came true- this way he would never notice the tiny differences the way I treated him from whoever else might have employed him.

It would never be too considerate for me to think on all these angles. Learning from mistakes.

"Please, don't call me sir. Just Jacky will do." I put the weight of my head on my fingers that were under my chin and eyed him.

This guy was thin as paper- no, no. He would need further training if he wanted to work for me. I must give him some muscles in the future. Otherwise... Hmm. I wonder whether he needed his glasses all the time? I asked the question.

"No, s... Jacky." He found himself a more casual position of sitting which I liked about him- I took a mental note that he could adjust quickly, "I only need them when I am doing my paper-work, and I'm also slightly short-sighted."

And he had organised his language well enough to be comprehensible. I took another mental note- this guy could talk. As I have noticed myself, I still could not decide what to call him- my private doctor, the man, the guy or the boy. It must be somewhere.

This room, his office, was tidy, no trace of murder or gunpowder could be seen. There was a plastic plant in a pot in the corner near the big document drawers. The blinds over the window were white and drawn back, and the glass panels were held in place, wide open, by clips outside. The view was excellent.

I wonder who pays for these.

There was also, surprisingly, one and only one personal object on the desk despite the pens and the folder of my medical information. It was a photo of him and a girl with red hair and high cheekbones, possibly his girlfriend or ex-girlfriend.

"Is that your...?" I pointed at it, leaving the sentence hung in mid-air.

He looked at it and smiled sadly, "Oh, no. She left, but... Maybe."

I sighed. Young days.

Suddenly I shook my head inwardly: hey, I am young! I am only twenty-seven! What am I thinking about?

"I think you have heard," I knocked my knuckles on the desk, looking at him in the eyes, "That I have some... Rules."

The young man, Syn, nodded, "Yes, I have read the documents. I believe that I can do this job."

"Good. And you personally meet my expectations." I stood up and nodded, "I will go and call on you when I need you. Thank you."

He stood up silently and walked me out.

I'll call him Syn.

What a beautiful name.