Miotisoa
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Throughout the seventies, John writes letters to Paul to let out all of the things that he can never actually say. He never intends to send them, of course. In retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t have addressed them and put the stamps on, although in his defense, how was he supposed to know that Sean would go through his drawers and decide to put them in the mailbox?
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Something ticked in Paul’s mind as the familiar words washed through him. When he looked at John, his friend was already looking at him. And suddenly, it all became clear: He remembered having that conversation more than 50 years ago. He remembered it too well.
He had been thinking about it for years, wondering what he should have understood, how he should have reacted. If it was as meaningful as it had felt or if his memory had just romanticized it.
“I don’t think a love like that obeys to any rules,” John went on, unaware of Paul’s agitation. “It’s not something that humans have created, not like a societal thing. It’s deeper than that, and that’s what some people are afraid of I guess, because they can’t control it. Whatever laws they create, they can never control it. A white lad will fall in love with a black girl.” He paused. “A lad with another lad. You know.”
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Summer 2019, 77-year-old Paul wakes up feeling surprisingly good. One tiny problem: he is back in December 1965.
PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS FIC ON ANY PLATFORM. DO NOT PUT IT ON GOODREADS, OR ON ANOTHER FANFICTION PLATFORM, PLEASE.
NO TRANSLATIONS EITHER, SORRY.Series
- Part 1 of On our way back home
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 363,059
- Chapters:
- 56/56
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- 5
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Bookmarked by Miotisoa
31 Aug 2026