Warning: Very strong language, drinking, smoking, sex references.


i'm wasted, losing time
i'm a foolish, fragile spine
i want all that is not mine
i want him but we're not right

- smother, daughter


She's a walking disaster-area, a human catastrophe, and she burns herself out a little more every day. She's a human mine, stepped on and destroyed, over and over again, until the sky is thick with ash and dirt and smoke.

You see, it's the brightest stars that go supernova, and Terra blazes brighter than anyone. Although supernovas are beautiful things, they're deadly and they strip the life out of anyone that comes too close to the explosion.

And now she's at a school dance, pressured by Amber to come, getting wicked drunk because that's what regular teenagers do ⎯ spike drinks, and get completely fucked with drugs and numb kisses.

She wishes she could remember the face of the boy currently plastered on her neck, but for a moment, let's just pretend he has emerald eyes that sparkle when he laughs and a fang that sticks out when he grins. And so Terra shines, but it's only because if she doesn't she'll shrink down into a deadly black hole, full of emptiness only.

When the boy meets her eyes, he gives her a hazy smile and kisses her roughly up against the wall. He breaks the kiss to look in his wallet, shuffling through the change until finally finding a small green packe-

"No." She tells him firmly.

He looks at her, with an arched brow and pink eyes. "C'mon, babe. Don't be like that." He reached out and caresses her cheek.

"Fuck off," she slaps his hand away, pushing herself off the wall and going to look for her bag. She thinks she hears "bitch", but she ignores it.

Dionne stops her midway to the main hall.

"What happened, Tara? Where the hell are you going?"

"Home." An empty word, full of empty promises and disappointments.

Dionne yells in annoyance and leaves to find Amber. Terra continues walking. She finds a cigarette pack in her bag, only to find it empty, throwing it in the garbage bin nonchalantly. She never liked smoking anyway, it was just a habit she picked up "to reduce stress" as her friends suggested.

She slips off her black heels and lowers down her dress. Hooking the heels under her fingers, she pushes open the door of the gymnasium, leaving the pop music and drunk teenagers behind her.

But maybe, in another universe, she would find herself in a small cafe located outside of an amusement park sitting next to a green teenager, eating pie, and talking, and laughing, and living.

And maybe, he would make her his and it's wrong, it's ohsowrong, because she's a star and stars belong to no-one. They're free and they burn brightest when there's nothing nearby to compete with and if anybody took any time to think about it they'd realize what a mistake it is to be a star at all, because whichever way stars go, black hole or supernova, they cause an awful lot of hurt when they do.


Author's Note: Because more Terra angst is always appreciated, right? (No.)

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