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Summary
Maybe when I’m old, when we’ve lived to be 70 or 80, when the kids are grown, when things are right, when we’re taking Viagra, after living through this long, ordinary, and beautiful life, I’ll say it casually, pretending like it’s not a big deal, and I’ll lift him up when he’s too old to stand straight. We’ll go fishing by the river—brother, I once had the wrong idea. I thought I loved you, not like brothers, but with the kind of love that would get nailed to a cross and burned. He’ll curse, like a bad, unrefined old man, and tell me, just like that day, “I know you’re joking, I know you wouldn’t, Sammy.”
Yes, I know I wouldn't.
The translation of this work：https://archiveofourown.org/works/52467895