AN: Something I wrote a long time ago that was collecting dust in my files. Didn't start off as rochu, but near the end due to some reasons I was really annoyed by the writing, so the only solution for me not to delete the entire thing was to edit it into rochu.

This is AU, Yao is an immortal and Ivan is a normal human boy. Narrated in Yao's first person account, I hope you can enjoy it :)

There was no beginning or end to this story. My story at least.

You asked me many times about how I came to be, and the lives I led, expecting stuff dreams were made of, but my answer was always disappointing.

In the centuries I lived, I was merely someone walking down perpetual paths while others were able to reach their destinations. I don't remember the year I was born, my parents, or even who I was before my clock stopped moving. I guess I accepted my fate once people around me aged and perished while the reflection in the mirror never changed. I was not a god, just a human forgotten by death. And so I walked and walked as the landscapes around me burned and bloomed, as empires fell and rose, and as ancient eras made way for the new. Whether a curse or a gift, it made no difference…until…

Well, until you said, "I'm sorry, forgive me."

Don't apologize. There was nothing to forgive.

Where should I start with you, the day we met or the day I brought you home? Well, do you remember the first day we met? I would be more surprised if you do. You were just a little boy then. Four years old if I remember correctly. And there you were, alone on the playground at the back of the orphanage, dragging a broken piece of chalk down the concrete ground as if those white lines were the walls of your fortress. In your solitude, I walked up to you and asked what you were doing. You replied that you were waiting. For who? You said you didn't know. But you offered me a place beside you because you seemed to believe that I was waiting for someone too.

Silly boy, I had long stopped waiting.

Still I came back the next day for a young child who amused me. I knew it was dangerous to have attachments, could see our end unveiling right in front of me, but I gave in to my human heart. I waited with you for someone who was never going to bring you home. This continued on for a while, and on a day just like the day we first met, I arrived at the playground to find you covered in bruises with your head buried in your lap. Even with dried tear stains, you tried to smile, pretended to be brave, and lied that the wounds didn't hurt. I didn't say anything as I wiped away the dirt on your face. "Don't listen to them, someone will come for you one day," I promised. You said, "It's okay. You always came back for me."

I should have left when you said that.

Instead I clasped my hands over your tiny ones and we walked together to the orphanage where I adopted you. I didn't know what I was doing. My hand shook as I signed the contract. I was signing up to be responsible of a child named Ivan, I, who had no rights to even call himself human was going to raise a living, breathing being. Even though I was someone who had lived through the dark ages and both world wars, that day was the first time in many years where I felt the possibility of the unknown. Of course, I knew what was going to happen eventually. But maybe I wanted to indulge in that illusion that I was normal, that I could be normal. I was never as selfless as you thought I was.

Raising you wasn't an easy task. And I feared that I would accidentally poison you or cause you harm in any ways, but you seemed to grow up as a healthy boy. For a while, you tried calling me dad, but I stopped you from saying that. I was less of a parent, more than an older brother, and closer than a friend. So you settled with calling me Yao-Yao.

Ha...Ha...Forgive me for this sentimentality. It has been too long since I last heard the echo of that name. I don't remember if that is the name I was given from birth; I don't recall the first person who ever called me that; and I don't particularly like or dislike that name, but you were very fond of it.

Oh what is this Vanya?

Today Ms. Irina told us to draw our family portrait. That's our house, this is me over here, and that's you right beside me! Look, look! I put flowers in Yao-Yao's pretty hair, do you like it?

I was your guardian. And I stood by your kindergarten gate as you bolted through those doors every day, right into my arms. Your teacher said I looked very young to be a father, and I merely smiled. The fairytales I told you, the bedtime stories, and the legends you loved. I lived through them all; sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain. I lied about the endings but I guess you realized that a long time ago. Maybe you don't remember those memories as vividly as I do, but I could recall every single moment we spent together in your childhood. All those birthdays, the trips to the zoo and baseball games, I still smile every time I think of them… Strange isn't it. Some things pass in the blink of an eye, yet some moments are frozen in time eternally. If you close your eyes, can you see them?

The first time you realized something wasn't quite right about me was when you were in grade four. You had grown almost to my shoulders, and you came home one day and looked at me. Really looked at me as if you were seeing me for the first time and asked me who I was.

"What do you mean?" I kept my voice composed yet I was scared. Somehow I thought that my true age seeped through my tone. That tiredness blared against my eardrums. You asked why I looked so young compared to his friends' parents; you asked why I never changed in appearance; you asked why we never stayed in one place for too long and had to constantly move from town to town, city to city; you asked if I was hiding things from you.

What could I have said? Back then I didn't say anything, but tell me what could I have said? That I couldn't die and have already lived for more than a thousand years? That his guardian was a freak? You were only ten years old. And although I knew our time together was being counted down, I wanted to prolong that. I wanted to make more memories with you even though that boy was starting to walk on his own path. The distance between us grew as you got older but you still looked up to me as your parent. When you were in middle school, on rainy days when you forgot your umbrella and I had to wait for you outside, the moment you saw me a hint of embarrassment flashed across your face. Your friends asked who I was, you said, "Just my neighbor."

Soon you were taller than me. I was proud of the handsome boy you became, but that sentiment looked wrong on someone who appeared as if he was the same age as you. When you were in high school, you realized profoundly that the man who raised you now looked like your classmate. You tried to act as if nothing had changed, but I saw the confusion in your eyes. Alas it was time to tell you the truth. You didn't believe me, refused to accept the reality, and angry at me for lying. But deep down you knew it was the truth.

I'm sorry. Perhaps I should have left you so someone else could have adopted you. A real parent.

Time was stopped for me but it flew for you. After you came back from university, you looked undeniably older than me. Mature, yet still a boy. My heart clenched tightly as I looked at the young man who was walking further and further away. I despised my own reflection in the mirror. That disgusting, revolting face stared back at me.

In your mid-twenties, I was becoming more of a hindrance for you. Your colleagues gave me questioning looks, and you didn't know how to disguise our relationship. Sometimes you told them I was your roommate, other times your distant cousin. I needed to be on the move, but it was time for you to settle down. Except that wasn't possible with me around right? So I did what I had to do.

You took the news harder than I expected. I wish you hadn't tried to stop me; it only made things so much more difficult. I never knew how deeply our bonds were rooted until you begged me to stay. You even said that you were willing to give up the job you worked so hard for. Anything...anything to make me change my mind. But I couldn't. I had overstayed my welcome in your life.

"When will you come back…will you come back?"

Wiping the trail of tears off your face, I said, "It's okay. I will always come back for you."

I lied. I never intended on seeing you again.

My life returned to the way it was before. A shadow in the busy Metropolitan cities, a lone figure on the countryside road, a ghost that lives. You must think that I am the dullest immortal who ever lived. I wouldn't disagree. But if you had lived for as long as I had, you too would have stopped looking at clocks. In the absence of a companion, years passed without me ever noticing a difference. But I never stopped thinking about you. I worried about you constantly, if you were eating healthy, if you were wearing enough on cold days. But most of all, I wonder if you were still waiting for me. A part of me prayed that you had forgotten about me and was now happy with a family, another part of me, the selfish part, hoped that I still had a place in your heart. I couldn't bring myself to appear in your life again, but I just had to know if you were okay. So I returned to the city I last saw you in.

Hiding behind the lamp-post a few feet from your house, I waited and waited. Finally the door was opened, and a stranger came out. But that wasn't a stranger was it? It was you. You were the husband of a lucky girl, the father of three beautiful children, and you looked so happy. Faint wrinkles appeared beneath your lilac eyes as you smiled lovingly at them. The grey hairs glistened against the radiating sun. As long as you were happy… I couldn't ask for anything more.

Then as if you noticed something in the air, you looked in my direction, but I was long gone by then. Did you know it was me?

Coming to term that I was no longer a part of your life, I walked away once again. Don't call me a coward; don't say that I spent my life running away because this was the only thing I could do. The only thing that accompanied me all these years is the constant reminder of departures.

But… I… I couldn't. Even if my heart was to break and dissipate, you were my responsibility.

I stayed in the shadows watching over you. I clung on to that role of a guardian until the very end.

Every once in a while, I would visit you silently, and every time you got older. Your already ash-blonde hair turned white as snow. Your back slumped and your once strong legs became limb with slight quivers in your steps. You had to walk with a cane and eventually you were sent away to live elsewhere. Eighty-five years changed a boy to an aged man, yet it left no dent on me.

I decided to see you one last time.

I told the administrator at the hospital that I was the grandson of a friend and they allowed me to see you. The minute I walked into the room, I was choked up by emotions but you looked at me as if you were expecting me.

"You came back," you said gently. "I never stopped waiting for you."

Then I suddenly realized how stupid I was. Death came knocking on your door, yet you shook your head because you were waiting for me this whole time, waiting for me to come back. Waiting for me to take you home.

I took your hand and held it tightly as you counted you last breaths. You said weakly, "I'm sorry, forgive me…" And I knew it was time to let you go. Even in your final moment, you thought about me, the lonely immortal who walked alone.

Now I sit on our spot in the playground, finishing the picture that you never completed on the ground. And you know what, you were right all those years ago. I was…am…waiting for someone.

AN: Thank you for reading! Really was not satisfied with how this one turned out (this is an understatement), but I thought maybe...maybe...people would enjoy it more than I did. So thank you for bringing this story to light.