It was wrong. You knew that. And so did he. He was dating your enemy. But she was possessive, and crazy. He wanted out, but he couldn't leave her. At least not when suicide was in her threat. So you both met up in private, enjoying each little moment you were given together, whether it be making passionate love, or staring at the stars together, laughing. It was so hard to sneak around when all you wanted to be was with him constantly. It was so hard. So so hard. And even you've cried in his arms many times at your frustration of not being able to be together. Call it star-crossed lovers or whatever bullshit you want to. But one thing was for certain, and it was that he loved you. And so here you both lay on the porch in the middle of the night, staring up at the sky, smoking a joint whilst you lay on his chest.