The Boy Who Loved Wicked

by C.P. Harris

Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something.’”

A boy shouldn’t have to watch his father wither and die. It forced a shift in my trajectory toward manhood. I no longer saw the world as good. It didn’t treat others how it wanted to be treated. It birthed and it took away. It cleansed itself at the expense of my ignorant bliss, leaving behind a permanent misery, no matter how temporary outsiders claimed it would be. I’d always had my father’s temperament, but that year, I’d learned that with good reason, I could be as cutting as a blade. I hated the world, and it was about to feel my wrath.

I promised to try not to be afraid to live without him.

He would’ve loved you, Caleb. And to wish he were still here would be to wish you had never been. The conflict of my desires will leave me forever broken. This entry and every entry after is for you.

I looked forward to finding someone, to singing out of tune, to rolling in the grass again.

And, once again, the light of the moon only had eyes for him. I felt envious that it got to touch him.

Mr. Wicked was starving for affection, and I shared in his hunger. I understood his unspoken language. Maybe he needs a friend, my ignorant mind supplied. Maybe...it could be me. If only it were that simple.

“At the end of my day fear departs me because the day is no longer a mystery. “What was meant to be has been settled and I have eluded the clutches of peril. “At the end of my day is my favorite part of the day. “But the end of my day ends once my head meets pillow and a fresh seed of fear begins to bloom. “I leave the moment behind and look ahead, and I wonder about what awaits me.” For

“There is in every one of us, even those who seem to be most moderate, a type of desire that is terrible, wild, and lawless.”

If someone had asked me to explain what triggered my interest in Mr. Wicked, what sent me crawling over the edge, it was his sadness. I fell in love with his sadness first.

I wanted to be the one that made his night, and I secretly hoped that eventually, it would be the sound of me coming from my yard that gave him whiplash.

I’d later wonder if falling in love with Sebastian was something I could, or couldn’t help. It was hard knowing the difference when loving him felt inevitable. Written in the stars.

We would be embarking on a bad thing, but sometimes, people did bad things for no reason. No, that wasn’t true. Sometimes, people did bad things simply because it felt good. We would reap what we sowed.

“No, Phoenix.” He brushed my lips with his. “Though I have a feeling, where you’re concerned, falling isn’t an option.”

Mostly, you remind me of what I’d been holding my breath for all these years. A deep connection.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You’re changing, Pheeny. We hardly see you anymore, and when we do, you act like some secret agent. James Bond,” he supplied. “Not circa Pierce Brosnan, because fuck he was bad—” “—Danny!”

I feel like the pacing is off? It feels like there’s a lot that we, as readers, aren’t privy to.

There was something about being held like this, when neither of you were counting down the seconds to when it would be appropriate to pull away. When time didn’t exist, when everything else disappeared, and you were truly in the moment. This is why wars are waged. This is worth fighting for.

“Life contains but two tragedies. One is to not get your heart’s desire; the other is to get it.” ~Socrates

cross. I lay crucified for him. I’d

I sucked in his scent. Filling my lungs and holding for as long as I could. I drifted off wondering why everything that killed us made us feel most alive.

waking with a crick in my neck.

Moby Dick was a whale, and the story followed Captain Ahab’s maniacal pursuit of him. The allegory of Moby Dick reveals the stupidity in the chasing of something that could never be captured. And my desperation was consumed by anger. He promised.

“I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing.” ~Plato

“Sometimes, you’ve gotta let people live out their own choices even when you know it’s wrong. Sometimes, they need to see for themselves that it won’t work. They need to be able to say they tried.” She’d said it could be a dangerous thing to get in that way of that.

We were battered and bloodied. There were more bruises than orgasms and every second felt borrowed. Stolen. We were criminals. We were toxic. We were fearless for the last time. We were beautiful for the last time too.

I pressed the journal to my abdomen, where the knights were taking up position with their swords. And with a fist between teeth absorbing my screams, I sank to my knees in surrender.

me. I missed my Michelangelo.

It wasn’t my job to work out why people liked me, and it wasn’t anyone else’s job to convince me I was worthy. My only responsibility was to be true to myself and to love like tomorrow wasn’t promised. I held my fist out. “To forever.”

“There is no harm in repeating a good thing.” ~Plato

With him beneath me, his arms wide in surrender, I rode him hard, my knees digging into his sides. I yelled. For all the nights I went to sleep thinking I’d imagined his love. For the days I didn’t think myself mighty enough to make it another hour without him. For having to find myself on my own terms, without his guidance. I pounded on his chest for having to admit that he was right, I’d needed time. Time to weed through who I wanted to be outside of my father’s shadow. For having to admit that in his absence, I’d discovered that I could make it without him. Without them both.

Falling in love with Sebastian was both immediate and gradual. That initial rush hit like a potent dose of morphine, but if asked then why I loved him it would’ve been hard to explain. I just knew. Now the reasons why were infinite.

Love wasn’t a single act, but a daily practice of the most mundane. The accumulation of the little things. It wasn’t about specific events, or the intensity. It came down to consistency, to working hard and exercising the heart daily even when we looked in the mirror and didn’t see the benefits, because love took time and patience. And things are most rewarding when we sweat to get them.

Nothing about our life would ever be too small to be grateful for, and no problem ever too big to not be forgiven. I would love our life always. And for him and Caleb, I would forever go through the fire and then forget how it felt to be burned.