The Boy Who Loved Wicked

by C.P. Harris

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’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.

“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.