Canon: Remove if not applicable.Most of their lives, he never even looked at him. Somehow they were always born in a way that they would meet, or that at least enabled him to see him.
The other was always on a pedestal, a prince, a knight, a politician, an actor, a musician, just generally rich or unapproachable. He was somebody that other people looked up to, only daring to dream but never able to voice them.
He ended up being just one of a billion, just about every time.
It was lonely, but he told himself that he was fine as long as he could watch him from afar, hear about him from a distance.
It was lonely, but he told himself that he was fine so long as the other was happy.
It hurt him physically, each time that he knew that the other was miserable.
He considered himself lucky, each time he was able to grow close to this version of the person that he loved, no matter the lifetime, and the lives where he got to hold him for even a little while, he was living in bliss, even when things went straight to hell.