“You know, they say all good things come to those who wait. So from now on, your name is Da-on.”

That’s what someone told me. That annoying, insufferable old geezer.

That day, I’d run away from the orphanage again and spent the day wandering the streets until I got into a fight. I was walking along, covered in bruises, when I bumped into someone.

I spat out a curse and turned my head, and for a moment, I stopped breathing.

I had never seen someone so radiant in my life.

But I didn't let it show on the outside. Hiding my emotions was a survival skill, and I was better at it than anyone.

Yet, that person suddenly grabbed my hand, dragged me to a pharmacy, bought ointment and bandages, and headed to a playground.

They sat me down on a swing, applied the ointment to my wounds, and put on the bandages. They even pressed the leftovers into my hand.

While I sat there dazed and speechless, they suddenly wrote their number on my palm.

Since that day, that person has taken me everywhere as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and even taught me so I could take the GED after I dropped out of school.

Lately, I’ve been turning down their offer to just move into their place.

I’m not crazy. Why would I go to that person's house?

Seeing how late they are today, they must have overslept again. They nag so much, yet they can't even keep a simple appointment.

What? I’m not waiting for you, damn it.