2 Bookmarks by muddaisy
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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
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The images that Buck Vernon's brain conjures when he's left himself vulnerable to them haunt him like a pissed off spirit. They tug at his mind and heart, even motioning to pull the strings of himself to do some half-minded things. However, in this case, he can't draw up an excuse. Both attention and heart has been captured like a beast in a cage by a man he found dead in the desert during his trip back home. Why does the universe play him like this? And why did he decide to let the dead man board up with him?
Because he's a damn fool.
Bookmarked by muddaisy
30 Aug 2021