A Sy Without Stars Is

I'm not crying. Well... I am. I'm trying to. But while the tears gather in my eyes, condense in that familiar, salty stinging... There's no release, because I'm also numbed.

I can't cry. And that should scare me, or

make

me cry. But it doesn't.

It isn't even over anything. Just my stupid brain thinking hateful thoughts. You're lucky if you don't have a brain like mine. Because mine likes to ambush me, and torture me... And all my defence are the little things. A baby, smiling at me on an otherwise desolate walk (Nobody talks unless they know each other, and nobody

wants

to know anyone they don't already know.) A flowerbank (Hey, it's worth the sneezing and the sore throat. Bonus, I

kinda

cry.) Light on a stream, gurgling happier than I can muster (It gives me strength.)

Oh, and another thing, although it's not perfect. Retreating into my own head. And advancing, lower, much lower, advancing and retreating, fighting that numb feeling with tender words, rough words... It doesn't matter much to me whether it's tender or rough, at least in my head.

Outside? I haven't been able to confirm any which way for years. More likely tender, considering.

No. Outside bad. Well, except for this outside. It's a nice outside, plump (Fuck you, fat haters), but not

big

. Well, where people say it counts. Fuck them too, or, more accurately... Don't. Waste of girlcum.

Ohhh, I want that girlcum so bad right now, and I'm looking for it, probing for it... Testing the surface for that sweet sensation, and moaning loudly, because there's nobody here.

I wish there was...

No

.

Shut up

. I concentrate, and the picture appears in my head. The feel of hips, thighs, sliding past each other, masterful tongues and fingers. And the noise... Inside, the moans are even louder, because we

want

to be heard, we want to be

seen

, two girls, showing their pleasure, their

happiness

, to

no

-

Oh, for fuck's sake... Thanks, brain, for reminding me no-one sees me. Thanks a whole fucking bunch, not even giving me this

. I pull out my fingers, and cup them under my chin as I turn huffily around to the pillow.

Eh. They're damp. Nowhere

near

damp enough. And my own mind just killed the mood. I'll try again in a few hours. Maybe I'll be too sleepy to worry. Maybe not. It's worth it to at least

try

, and I hold onto that. And I carry on thinking to myself, trying to dodge those landmines of emptiness.

Soon, sooner than I expected, my head gets heavy, my eyes close... And, for a brief while, I'll not think anything I really remember.

When I wake up, the first thought I have is that the moon must be clouded over, because it's dark. But... It's darker than dark. And at first, my eyes refuse to see. But, around that blackness, and to each side, and a little bit below, it's my normal, night-time scene. Books, strewn around (I forget to pick them up), clothes in the bin, window with the trees outside... But above me, there's a deep, abiding blackness. A blackness that moves. That reaches out to touch my cheek. And it lets me see it, turning this way and that, so I can see its slim, beautiful form. Long, curly tresses. Thin fingers. And thighs... Those thighs...

I'm still feeling numb, so this doesn't feel weird to me. It's just... A thing that happens. And for once, my brain co-operates, and a snippet of poetry is remembered.

So I stared at the Night! And she

Stared back solemnly at me!

Not that I could tell how she was staring. It just... Felt fitting. Her touch had felt cold, I'd expected that. I don't know why I expected that. But again, she leaned over me, and her pitch tresses fell over my shoulders... And the cold was refreshing. It woke me up. And it reminded me of my need. I wanted to feel, and I

was

feeling... And she was offering me more.

So... I reached behind her head, touching my way from the top of her chest, and feeling my way around, and wrapped my fingers, gently, around her neck. I didn't even need to pull, she leaned her head down as soon as she felt that gentle grip, and I could feel her hair shifting, a cold hand covering my breast, and then... Her lips met my open mouth, and we explored each other. She'd picked a good night to make me cold, it had been hot all day, and even tonight, it was uncomfortably warm... Except where she was touching me, and inside my mouth, where our tongues were entwining. My other hand raised up, and she rose with it, cocking her head curiously.

"Hey... I don't know your name, or even if you have one, but... If we're going to do this, I want to feel

all

of you." She understood, and moved herself off the bed. But she didn't talk. Did she need to? It'd been a while, and even through that sensation, the desire for more, I wanted to make her feel, just like she'd made

me

feel.

So I made a show of it, slowly pulling down the blanket, moving one leg, then the other, turning to show my body as I did, before spreading my legs, just a little, and holding out one hand. She took it, and the icy grip was like a blessing. We would please each other, and maybe, just maybe, we could both fulfil our needs. Her hand guided mine to the back of her neck once more, before she laid one leg over mine, reached down between my thighs, and started kneading, caressing, and she similarly kneaded my other breast.

I couldn't play with her the same way, but I tilted my head, drew her down, and kissed her, reaching around to play with her spine as she rubbed against me, chilling me and warming me at the same time. I was moaning into her mouth, but only the vibration, that little quiver of my lips and tongue on hers escaped. And as she rubbed, we were both getting wetter, mine, a warmth that quickly chilled, and hers, a spreading ice across my thigh. It was so much more

real

to me, the way it couldn't be doubted, the spreading and dripping down my leg a sensation among many, all cold... I couldn't hear her cry, but I could hear mine, as she slipped fingers inside me, and we both shuddered in each other's arms. We held each other for a while, both basking in the sensation, that strange closeness. She held both my cheeks in her palms, and kissed my forehead...

...

And I knew

. The knowledge was just like here, icy certainties in my mind. And I

did

cry, while she held me, and stroked one cheek, letting me know it was

okay

, that she

understood

. And I did. I understood her, because she had shared it with me.

She was lonely.

So

lonely. And as empty as I had felt. But even as she had drifted, aimless, numb inside, she had felt... Warmth. The kind of warmth she understood. The kind of warmth that still had potential, but

felt

empty, and the emptiness called to her, as much as the warmth. The warmth she craved. The love.

We were so alike. We both wanted to be filled, to be

fulfilled

. We both wanted reassurance, something that gave us a little meaning. I took one hand from her cheek, and held it tightly, looking straight up at her. I knew she understood, so I spoke.

"We can be together, if it helps us both." Another icy wetness, but one I recognised all too well. Tears. And, unbidden, another certainty. I couldn't. I

shouldn't

. Because it would kill me, and that...

That

would kill

her

. Figuratively, anyway. For me, it would be literal.

The ghost of a smile flashed across my face, and I drew my hand around her neck once more. This time, I drew my hand down, finding that icy wetness, and sliding my fingers along it, inside it. And I pulled her down and kissed her, before I spoke again.

"I can give you warmth. And I can do it for as long as we both live. Cum for me, and I'll cum for you.

Trust

me." We kissed each other, more passionately now, and her fingers slid down as well. I was

icy

cold, but she trusted me, and that gave me warmth, all of its own. And this time, though it wasn't really a sound, I could not-hear her pleasure, a strange absence that still told me what I wanted to know, how my fingers, my tongue, were making her feel... And then we both came, my loudness, and her loud silence...

And I

drew from her

. She was surprised, I could tell by the way she drew back, but I held her hand, touched her cheek, and smiled. "Trust me."

It was so cold. It was cold as the void, and that was fitting, for that was exactly what she was. An absence, a hole in the world that needed filling. And, just as I'd drawn

from

her, I drew

into

her. The room fell away, only a comforting coldness, a counterpart to my stoked warmth. Finally, we could talk, and properly.

"You..." Her voice was cold, but tremulous. It only

felt

cold. She was shy, almost in tears, and I sent that warmth to her. "What... What did you do?"

I sent her a smile, the image of a smile, a smile I hadn't felt in a long time. "I gave you a star. I gave you my all. And... What is a sky without stars?"

From now, we wouldn't need to hold each other, only our thoughts of each other. We could pleasure each other at our leisure, unseen by a world that left us both behind, to our individual fashions. And I would be her warmth, as she would be my cool perspective.

I would be her star. And, for this void, one star would be all she needed.