Цитата #987 из книги «"Этаж смерти" with W_cat»

“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Where was it?”

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The truth was I never knew for sure if I loved him or not. And he never knew for sure if he loved me or not, either. We were only two years apart, but he was born in the fifties and I was born in the sixties. That seemed to make a lot more than two years’ worth of a difference to us. And like any pair of brothers two years apart, we irritated the hell out of each other. We fought and bickered and sullenly waited to grow up and get out from under. Most of those sixteen years, we didn’t know if we loved each other or hated each other.

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“Will I?” he said. “Once I’m out of here, they can get to me.”

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He looked down for a moment. Nodded.

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He shrugged and thought about it. Counted up in his head.

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