It would never be enough. They both starved.

Brief, lingering touch on the hand, short and awkward because they both could not stifle the fear of being found out.

A kiss burning and blinding like a star explosion, taking pieces of both of them along as it faded into oblivion, forgotten, denied.

Tiny speck of fear that tainted their thoughts, that grew and grew as time passed until it was devouring, a cancerous growth, they could not see past it.

A few harsh words—

"I love you."

"It's not right."

Did he mean that?

No more touches or kisses or secrets shared in pale glossy moonlight. Everything was taken away and they had nothing now, no glances in the corridor, no secret smiles, no more words to say.

It was never enough, and so it died too soon.