There were stars on the ceiling.

It was dark, and I imagine that if it wasn't, I'd be blushing then. But maybe I'm just imagining that.

I turn to my side to face the wall, and huddle in my blanket. It is a cold night, perhaps. I need to sleep. It will be a busy day tomorrow.

But the silence is so heavy that it drums in my ears. Heavy, and somewhat full of anticipation. Anticipation.

There is a slight rustle of fabric beside me, so slight that I almost think it careful.

Ah yes. He is staying the night.

I am still wondering why the air is so thin.

I've never been fickle with things this kind. A lot of people have stayed the night, and I didn't mind after all.

But heaven knows he's been after me forever.

Heaven also knows we've made out not once in the school restrooms.

Heaven knew he had a girlfriend then.

Again, a rustle.

I bite my lip and turn to my other side. I can feel his breath. I heave one of my own.

It is too dark for me to see, but I feel his eyes.

I feel his hand.

I feel his lips.

I gasp for air as the blanket was cast aside, and his weight settles on top of my shivering body. It was cold, but I am shivering from the heat.

My eyes open as my hands are clamped together above my head. I never remembered him to have such a strong fist.

A moan escapes my mouth into his own as his tongue plays with mine, plundering my mouth feverishly, feverishly. His hands roam my side, inside my shirt, as if in search.

So close like this… I know he could feel my raging heartbeat on his chest.

I nip on his ear, licking and sucking on his earlobe. His grip tightens on my wrist. I trace along his jaw, and I could feel it tensing underneath my tongue. I hear his sharp inhale.

He moves down to my neck, lavishing the moist skin there in all his fervor. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, I feel them. I feel their hunger.

I tilt my chin upward. My hands break free from the lock of his fist, and I cling onto him. His back is warm and moist with sweat. I can feel rumbling beneath my palms and fingertips.

I bite my lip as his tongue traces wetly from the base of my neck, slowly, up to my chin. I welcome it back into my own mouth. His hands move eagerly on my side, and I sling my arms around his neck, pulling him nearer, if still possible.

The breaths were loud and eager, as if impatient.

He sucks my lower lip leisurely as his hand finds its way to my knee, crawling carefully up my thigh, his fingertips teasing.

I take in a sharp breath and arch toward him at that contact. He kisses my cheek, burying his face there, and plays with my ear. He teases it with his tongue and gentle blows of air. I cling onto his back tightly. My head is spinning.

I open my mouth to breathe. His face hovers above mine, as if watching me. His breath is hot. He lifts my shirt and his hand roams every inch it could roam, his other hand not ceasing from my thigh. I tilt my head up, and he kisses my chin, breathing hotly.

He must be pretty pleased with himself having me, someone so self-righteous and composed, writhe and moan helplessly beneath him now.

Shivers run up my nape as he fondles with the side of my neck with his mouth. My hands worm up his shirt, caressing his back in reply. He moves down toward my chest, and I lift his face to kiss him. His lips, his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He groans and tilts his chin upward for me.

Both his hands on my waist and his lips on mine. I feel his hands on my sides, abdomen, and finally settles on my hips. He pauses and blows at my ear. I bend my knees and brush my thighs with his, my hand settling on his nape and playing with his hair there.

He kisses me again, gently.

I brace myself.

He stops.

His weight settles fully above me, his face buried in my shoulder.

I feel a warm wetness there, on my shoulder. Sobbing.

I stare at the blackness and put my arms around him. Hush.

I guess not only heaven knows I have a girlfriend now. For a moment, I didn't.

He rolls to my side and stays huddled to my chest. His sobs were so muffled and stiff that I could feel my own chest constricting hearing the subtle noises coming from him.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

He whispers again and again.

I cradle his face in my hands and kiss him gently on the lips, on his cheek, on his forehead. He cries, still, and harder.

I hold him, and whisper. "It's all right. Don't cry."

I close my eyes as I caress his back soothingly, whispering the words over and over. Over and over…

Over and over…

I can see the light even from my closed eyes. Morning seemed so noisy and intrusive.

I opened my eyes.

I whisk the moisture from the side of my eyes, and chuckle. My groin has a slight fever. I chuckle again.

I touch my lips. Cold. I sigh. Two years, huh?

The past is a dream.

There were stars on the ceiling.