AN: F!I!N!A!L!L!Y!

*Ilya is the name of Yao's first love/ex-boyfriend/head-cannon name for Soviet Union.

This chapter is written with a disoriented feel to it to reflect Yao's state of mind. I'll apologize in advance for the quality of writing because I haven't written fiction in so long.

And thank you for sticking with this story until the end.

Fire and blood mingled in the blinding explosion. It was as though a fist of orange flame had decided to punch its way out of the race car. Windows shattered. Screams erupted throughout the stadium. The hoarse howl of people, the rushing of men, the sudden gulf, that awful gulfing whirlpool of horror that was laid out in front of him; these terrible sensations all served to color his world momentarily in white.

Yao felt death on the tip of his tongue. An unshakeable feeling of dread settled its vast weight upon his heart. He could not see. He could not hear. He could not sense any part of his body. Soon it was apparent that he could not even find the strength in his lungs to breath.

Oh, but damn the restrictions of reality. Like a blade piercing through his skull, the mortal world returned to him in its flaming glory.

The Asian man surveyed the crowds with his empty eyes - pupils reflecting the blaze of mass hysteria tainted with hints of confusion, eyelashes the shade of coal fluttered in the breezes clothed by smoke. Where was he?

Yao did not comprehend the scene unfolding within his vision. He could not understand what he was doing in this place and time. There seemed to be an accident of some sort, someone important seemed to be gravely injured. But why was he here? What did he have to do with any of these? Searching for a trace of clue in the frenzied crowds below, instead of his eyes, it was his ears that first caught glimpses of what was forgotten.

Please remain calm and move away from the tracks! Oh my lord, is he okay? Holy shit dude, did you get that on camera? Was that Braginsky? Is Braginsky going to be okay after that? You think Ivan Braginsky is dead? Ivan Braginsky. Ivan Braginsky. IVAN BRAGINSKY. IVAN BRAGINSKY.

I-Iv-Ivan…Bragin…what? That name, why did it sound so familia-

Ah I see. Yao let out a half-muffled laugh. Of course.

Fireworks ruptured into brilliant sparks in the evening sky. Ice cubes drowning in glass of vodka. A maroon-red hotel room whose noises are overshadowed by the cries of cicadas outside the window. A white scarf on an autumn day binding two people like the red string of fate. A simple request of a smile that was refused. The decision between his heart and dream that ended with the door closed behind him. A marriage proposal uttered through tears. Of course…It had always been him, that racer boy who became his everything.

Slowly, his legs found the resolution to move one step at a time. They appeared weak to support his upper body, yet they continued to push through the opposing current of people.

"Ivan…" Yao whispered in an almost inaudible plead. Bodies upon bodies were shoved against him, yet one name rung thunderously propelling him forward. As he bumped into strangers one after another, they glanced at him as if he was crazy. "Let me go through…please…" Yao mumbled. "I need to see him…" But whether his words never left his throat or that they were obscured by the deafening public panic, no one listened to the man struggling to get down.

He had to see him. Ivan had to be alright. But Yao knew it was impossible to emerge unscathed from the fire. What if Ivan…There was no way he could be alive…He's…dead…No! No he can't be. Ivan had to be okay. He couldn't afford to imagine a future without him. "Get out of my way!" He shouted while his steps gained more momentum. He could very well feel the ground beneath him, the tension within his muscles, the pressure put upon his ribcage, but they were all evidence of him being alive. That's right. Even if he had to use up his last breath, he was not going to let go of that man.

"Ivan Braginsky!" A wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, cried out through the depth of the storming red sea.

"Sir! You cannot be in this area right now!" Strangers in black suits stopped and blocked him as the racer was being carried by the paramedics into the ambulance. Yao could faintly remember what those men were suppose to be doing, they were policemen right? But it did not matter. No one mattered except for one person.

"Please let me see him! You don't understand-"

"I'm sorry sir. You have to step away from here! Only authorized personnel are allowed-"

Yao interrupted. "No! No, please let me get through! I'm a family member, I'm his-"

"Sir! Step away, right this instant! I will not repeat myself again!"

"I'M HIS HUSBAND."

Yao was stunned by his own voice. It was an odd thing; hearing a voice full of fury and desperation, utterly anomalous yet human, a sound that came from beyond his outer shell of consciousness. "I'm…I'm his husband," Yao repeated with more composure, ignoring the pitiful stare of the officer. "Please help me…I need to…help him, please help him."

The officer was at a loss for words. What a pitiful man, he thought, but there was nothing he could do for him. "Umm…sir," he muttered tentatively. "I'm so sorry for your…loss. But if you could please step aside-"

"Yao? What are you doing here?!"

Yao looked up and found the source of the voice. "Oh it's you, hi Natalya."

What happened after was a blur of events in which Yao could not recall how he ended up on the hospital bench. If he tried to concentrate real hard, he could see scattered images with no clear correlations to one another. Natalya must have drove him to the hospital, and during the ride, she must have asked him many times about how he was holding up. Yao didn't remember his answers; he hoped he didn't give the poor girl a hard time. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. Ivan is a fighter, we all have to believe in him. She seemed to have said something along those lines, but Yao wasn't sure who that was meant to comfort. Then what? Right…they arrived at the hospital. Medical staff dressed in white resembling the angels of death; evasive bright lights that shone too hard to scream warmth; and the scent of freshly sprayed bleach, Yao could feel his intestines being twisted into knots.

The nurses hurried through the double doors, the wheels of the stretcher and his pounding footsteps were the only thing he could hear. "Mr. Wang, you have to wait here." The surgeon stopped him apologetically with her gloved hand. His heart sunk into his chest as the stretcher disappeared from his view.

"Is he going to be alright?" This was all he could choke out, as his mind became filled with a succession of horrible outcomes each worse than the last.

"I promise you, we will do what we can."

Yao noticed how she avoided looking at him in the eyes. He fell flat onto the plastic bench while the image of red burnt marks covering the racer's entire body haunted his every breath.

This wasn't his first time being in a hospital. Although he was not accustomed to getting sick often, the memories of the times he was in a hospital carved its marks on him. When his younger sister, Mei, was just five years old, she came down with a horrible case of pneumonia. Even though they told him it wasn't his fault, he knew his father held him responsible. He never looked at him the same after that incident. That accusing stare was something he could never forget. You let your own sister wander outside in that weather?! B-but daddy she wanted to play in the snow… I can't believe you are so irresponsible! Yao could still remember the long night at the hospital waiting for his sister's fate. He must be the world's worst brother, he remembered feeling that way. A murderer; a murderer who killed his own sister, the little boy thought. And so he prayed and prayed to whoever was listening to please save his little sister. He promised to be a good boy. If his sister lived through that night, he would be a good boy until the day he died. And it seemed like whoever was listening did fulfill his wish. Of course, many years later Yao didn't believe in those things anymore. He also stopped being a good boy.

Maybe everything that had happened was because I couldn't hold up on my end of the promise, Yao thought bitterly. When did things start to go so wrong? Was it that man? That man who left him in utter despair? But he shouldn't blame him for his own stupid mistakes. He shouldn't have fallen for him in the first place. He shouldn't have fallen so deep that it became impossible to crawl out of love. After that person disappeared from his side, he sought to destroy himself inside and out. He made stupid…stupid…mistakes. He was so stupid. A stupid little boy who never learned. Night after night, his body rotted away. Substituting oxygen with the air of alcohol, stimulants, and sex, he could no longer find his landing. In that ecstasy of self-destruction, he could almost believe he was flying. This poor fool thought he was flying, but, in fact, he was in free fall, and he just didn't know it yet because the ground was so far away, but, of course, the craft was doomed to crash. What a stupid boy.

On those nights, people did unbelievable things to him, and he let them. There was such joy in pain, such pleasure found in dehumanizing debauchery. He wanted to cry, but he could only remember laughing in dim-lighted rooms made hazy by cigarette smoke. No matter how many bruises appeared on his body, or how he could never wash that disgusting scent off himself, he wanted, needed, to feel more. He wanted to die. Why couldn't anybody kill him. After all that damage they inflicted on him, he still managed to limp home during the dark side of the mornings. It was only when he collapsed in one of the back alleyways among vermin and cigarette butts that he realized no matter what he did, Ilya* was never coming back.

Then he cried like the stupid little boy he was.

If it weren't for a homeless beggar, he would have been dead. For better or worse, Yao woke up seeing his body connected by tubes and breathing through an oxygen mask. He wanted to die, but he finally knew that he wanted to live more. He didn't want to die in some back alley, dying for a man who left him. Even without him realizing, his prayer was answered once again. He didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve a second chance. Someone else should have been saved instead of him, but maybe everything happens for no reason at all.

For years he lived as normal as could be imagined. He lived simply for the sake of living. They come and go, and that's fine. Yao told himself, no meetings are complete without departures. Life went by without any riptides, and that was exactly how he planned to live out the rest of his days. Until-

The sport channel was on, the volume was turned down low since the man did not care for what was displaying on the television. But once in a while, he did glance up from his chores to the flickering screen. Oh car-racing. Wasn't Alfred doing something like that? NASCART? Wait no, it was NAS…CAR? Well it didn't matter. It didn't concern him. In one of those fleeting moments where his eyes glanced at the screen, he saw a face he never thought he would see again. His body froze, his heart slowed and stopped, he held his breath as that man on the television screen looked directly into the camera. Directly at him. Then after what seemed like an eternity, Yao chuckled to himself. Of course that wasn't him. The man on the television had younger features, broader bone structures, brighter eyes, lighter hair, and a much gentler smile. How did he ever think they were the same person? However despite of such differences, Yao couldn't help but to wonder about the stranger. Ivan Braginsky huh…

Now back in the hospital where miracles were once fulfilled, there was only one thing on his mind. Please save Ivan Braginsky, Yao prayed. He couldn't remember the last time he prayed, but if there was any higher power out there among the stars, please help him one more time. Save Ivan Braginsky. He wasn't supposed to be here, Yao thought, I was. They are my sins, not his. He has so much more to live for, he has a dream, he has more to give to the world…please I'd do anything…please give him back. He doesn't deserve this. Take me instead. I was supposed to die all those years ago. He prayed to whoever that saved Mei, to whoever that saved him. Yao begged and begged in his prayers for a man whose life was more important than anything else. He never even told him how happy he made him feel, he never showed how much he loved him. There was so much more he wanted to tell him, so many memories they could have made together. Til' death do us apart right? Don't go Ivan…please…please stay.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The life support sang its tragic melody.

Anything, I'll do anything to trade for his life. Please let him live. Please…please…please.

Beep. Beep.

There were so many things I never said.

Beep.

Ivan, I love you.

The sound fell flat. The doctor came out of the operating room and shook his head.

The sun is a radiant, all-watching eye, its light creeping into every corner, bathing the whole world in a warm glow. Time passes slower now, but that is just fine with them. After spending a life-time with each other, they still have not gotten tired of the accompaniment. They sit in oak rocking chairs next to one another, soaking in the afternoon's bless. The older of the two hums a tune of long forgotten days, his finest memories playing in his aged yet tranquil mind.

"We drove fast and died young. Crashing into the gray smoke, I rode into the eternal sunset," the old man softly spoke. "All alone in this ride, my only wish was for my man to be by my side…Ah I can't recall what comes after that verse, do you remember Vanya?"

Beside him, the man smiled faintly, the scars of old burnt marks glistened beneath wrinkled skin, "What? Sunset doesn't come until another few hours."

"I mean the song. You remember that song?"

"No, I don't think I know such song," he tilted his head to the side.

"Well, it's strange isn't it?" His eyes twinkled despite they could no longer see very clear. "I know these words, yet I can't remember where and when I heard it from…Strange indeed...My only wish was for my man to be by my side." He repeated the last line again.

"I'm here Yao-Yao," he said with his few dazzling teeth shining a fresh white gleam.

"I know," he replied.

When they reach the story's conclusion and the old lovers after long years together in peace and harmony have turned to oak and linden, sunset slowly gives way to the dark, but warmth remains eternally.

The world breathed in utter silence. In that soundless void, darkness was the only occupant quietly roaming the unseen corners. Far off the distance, something perspired. A droplet suspended in air before sending ripples across the darkness. Then he opened his eyes.

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

Yao blinked, waiting for his eyes and ears to adjust to the pounding music and orange lights. "Yeah, I'm…" His voice sounded dry and hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in a long time. "I'm alright."

The racer regarded the stranger sitting beside him with mild curiosity. Just when he thought that the man was another fan hitting on him, he had fallen into a deep silence. His eyes looked as if they were seeing something that was not in the room, something that Ivan couldn't possibly understand.

He waited for the stranger to say something, but the Asian man's lips were sealed. In fact, he didn't look in the racer's direction, not even once.

Swallowing the last drop of the burning liquid, Ivan stood up and was just about to leave when the stranger spoke.

"The memories are all fainting away…I can't see them clearly anymore…" He mumbled. "Wait, don't go yet Ivan, I'll buy you another drink."

"How do you know-" Ivan paused. "Wait, that's a silly question."

"Everyone here knows who you are," he answered plainly. Still he didn't look at the racer as Ivan sat down cautiously on his seat, carefully observing him. "Can I ask you something?" He took silence as a reply. "If you know the future, how will you live your present?"

Ivan narrowed his eyes at the peculiar question, but decided to humor him anyway. "No one knows the future."

"But what if," the stranger pressed. "If you could see your life ahead, would you change things?"

"Maybe I would say what I felt more often."

The black-haired man looked surprised. Then his lips broke into the outline of a smile. He shifted his head towards the racer, and Ivan's heart stopped.

"Forgive me, I don't think we ever had a proper introduction."

~FIN~

AN: The ending is up to you to decide what happened. Maybe this entire story was made up in Yao's mind as he feared opening up to another person and getting himself hurt again. Or maybe a miracle truly happened and he was sent back to the night where they first met and he was given a choice to change the future. Maybe it would be better if they remained strangers forever. But in the end he still chose a life with Ivan no matter what the future may be.

Thank you for reading this when I, myself, have given up on it at one point. Thank you so much. I hope it has been a joy for you to read as much as I enjoyed writing this.