14 Lovers: 9 : Silas Wegg 1968 -1971

This is how it works: You can’t keep an actor. You can look at them. Admire them. Love them, but only from afar. You try to pin them down too hard, and then they’re not actors anymore. To keep the actor you love the way you loved them, you have to watch them leave you. Again.  And again.

Charles saw Silas first on stage, covered in greasepaint. He didn’t like him then, but when the show was over, at the after-party, the paint half melted off his face, Charles knew that this man would be his lover. Was it the sheen of his skin, or his smell, or his voice – surprisingly soft behind the velvet curtain?

All Charles knew was that he wanted to see that dark hair spread on white sheets. He wanted to possess Silas, then, to bring him home and make him belong. But Silas broke under Charles’s hand – being possessed drained him of his beauty, being kept took his heart. Being loved tore his tongue and buried it in ash.

The thing about being damned is that life on earth is easier. Eternal damnation waits, sure, but here on earth you can take the pieces of the person you broke, paste them back together and look in their eyes and demand they forget what you did. Forget the fights. Forget flesh. Forget fucking. Forget blood. Forget tears. Forget the way I broke your bones. Forget the way you broke my heart. Forget my pride and forget your frailty. Forget me. Forget it all.

Let him go.

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