Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, or there would be rampant slash like no other.

Writing this for a slowly dying fandom that I love as much as Naruto and Digimon (01 and 02). I know I'm mostly recognized for Naruto fictions, but if you ever liked this fandom or do, please read it and perhaps comment if it sounds appealing.

Story is primarily BBStar and BBT, aaaaand I can throw in any other pairing I want, including vague glimpses of canon.

Summary: And even when the cold metal touched her bloodless lips, the gun was saying it was sorry. She still could tell herself she wasn't crazy. Lost lover, found friend.

:: Edges ::



An ague, an ague,

an ave, too? Oh!

A meeting, perchance and a

Lifetime has passed.

Fall apart, fall apart,

Cry as you do you.

I'm following you...


So few came to see the end.

The part when she was carefully set beneath the dirt and even the sky had the gall to refuse tears. All made up, painted pretty for her passing, clothes set just right even though nothing sheltering beneath the sodden grass would actually care what she looked like. Guess it was better to leave with a tranquil, cutesy little procession that fitted her high school persona, a much more satisfying picture than the one she left behind. Better to remember the girl that couldn't stand geometry because the teacher had been just such a jerk and the subject was useless anyway, but she studied hard to impress yet another lie upon the student body, her reputation: Good girl. She was a good girl.

A good girl that turned her nose up at the smokers and smoothed her pleated skirt (that she hated to move in for the sole fact that it didn't let you move much) and stalked around on eggshells with good reason. Loved like the latest gossip, loved more than the constant gossip of Kim dating Tony who cheated on Naomi, (oh god forbid!); loved like an addiction. Blonde hair and blue eyes and innocent little smile.

(She lied, it said. He said. No, it wasn't in it, remember that! He didn't press it to her temple, she did).

Yes, better to be all those things that she wasn't; better to leave her imprint upon the earth as that fake little girl, rather than go out with a bang, says the gun that was cozy with her pale, perspiring temple. Bad pun, sighs the gun that almost couldn't, but did with a little help from someone that had too much of an influence.

All that had to be remembered was that today, December 1st, the girl without a last name or parents or a cruel bone in her painfully skinny body, (because by that time, she hadn't bothered with the mundane function of eating), a student of Murakami High and one of the most amiable and cheerful girls on campus, (that one that always had a piece of gum or a spare pencil), was gone.

(Terra, that girl, the one who apparently shouted at herself when alone in the hallways).

(That crazy one, that picked up the gun).

Gone, as in, specifically, they had a funeral today and nobody bothered their uncaring consciousness to pay any respect.

(Maybe they were scared).

After all, they based her life on the moments before it all started rolling downhill, crashing into rocks along the way and getting stained and dented. It took a long time for her to land at the foot of the slope and just break already. Too long. 'Before' Terra, smiling-outstanding-helps-everyone-and-their-half-sister-Terra, not 'After Terra', the girl that seemed to wander the hallways after the school had closed too often to be considered a believable habit. The girl that hated herself.

I didn't do it, she did, says the gun. She did.

She was gone, they pretended not to realize that all the signs had been flashing, the neon signs of blatant irony, and life apparently went on without anyone's daily routine drastically changed.

Except for the little green boy that knew her life before.

The boy that put flowers on her grave and clung to the stone with fingernails skinned to the quick, and refused for the sake of sanity to believe it was suicide.

(So) Listen when I say

I'm falling away

Swaying to the beat of the

Road beneath my feet

And betrayal is spelled in the cobblestones.


"Where...where is everyone else?"

Inquired the voice with an almost physically tangible note of fear. She could not be forced to believe, so easily, that only they had graced the hovel of broken stone and withered flowers that night in remembrance of a friend so dear.

He, on his knees. She, stricken by an ague of a horrid sort in which the enormity of it all settled upon her thin but powerful shoulders. Oh, did it push, with mocking superiority and an air of great transcendency. Cold facts etched in concrete weighed and they did not relent; so her world turned upside-down.

"I do not...I cannot be certain that-"

"Look around, Star," the boy retorts in a sorrowful cadence that was drowned in the constant downpour. It was a little late for the sky to be showing some damn gratitude, or perhaps the equally guilty required a bit of cleansing as they did their rightful duty. "You see anyone else here? During the eulogy, I only saw one other girl her age."

The tall, slim figure draws her soaked arms tighter around her thin figure, so unnaturally thin that a twinge of pain literally forced a wince from his throat. Never had she used to be so pale, nor should she have been standing before him without that confidence and power she had once possessed, but it was different. Ten months would never compare to a lifetime, and yet the strongest proved vulnerable to falling apart at the half-torn seams. Fiery locks dulled and lank and plastered to her quickly crumpling face as his anger got the better of him, and he began to raise his voice against the distant, rolling beats of thunder.

"And you know what that girl said?" A low hiss, numb fingers still grabbling desperately at the headstone as if he were sinking through the marshy dirt that separated him from her. Boy from girl. Loved from the loveless.

Wishing whilst imagining, half-hoping while deluding his own conscious that there was a chance to go too.

"That girl said...Terra was crazy."

His companion cannot find the heart to agree nor deny. She embraces silence. He continues.

"She wasn't crazy!" He gazes at her over his shoulder with such pleading eyes, in which she can see...pain. Darkened, shadowed, the dimness of forest pines thrown into swift-moving dusk, and she watches glimmers of hope flicker and die. "She wasn't!"

The boy needs his friend to comprehend. He needs her to sympathize, a characteristic of which she has an abundance, but for any hope to be salvaged, he necessitates truth in her kind words.

"Beastboy," she begins, fighting for stability, in will and in words, "I do not think that Terra was... 'crazy'. It is an unfounded accusation and what is more...I believe you knew her very well." Ends her spiel with that genuine smile to gently coax his own countenance into a toothy, wide grin, and though tears fall, she restores his almost-lost disposition. A good thing.

"But then," she adds sadly, sweeping stray drops from her unnaturally pasty cheeks;"The newspapers and the school administrators, the girls that knew Terra, or, it may be better to say, thought they did...they do not know the true cause. If it was not this, this suicide, then...Beastboy, what could it possibly be?" she whispers, simultaneously curling her fingers against her bloodless lips.(The hallway was where he could hear me scream).

He stares for a moment. Not at her, but through her, into the rain and how it beats upon the surrounding gravestones in a grotesque symphony (as histrionic as the familiar beat of her heart, when her temple just didn't seem good enough to put against the barrel, and she chose her bloody lips instead. Prettier. Fuller. More satisfying to blast apart), that provides a sanctity. Lull.

I've lost a lover,

Now I pick up a friend.

"I'll find out why," he growls, letting his fingers trail from the headstone and land limply at his sides, sopping grass cradling the indents they make. All that exists takes pity, the tears they cry and the ground that holds his weight and will not let him fall. Something in his eyes darkens, some sinister glimpse into the crevasse so close to swallowing his joking innocence whole. Anger taints all.

"Beastboy," she breathes, pulling him away from his conscious, because she is so afraid to let yet another friend immerse themself into a place where they have no chance of return. Not again. Not again. "I will stay with you. I...wish to help you. I cared, deeply, for Terra as well." She speaks not to assure him of those facts; there is no doubt in his mind that her unbounded care was a falsity; but to prevent him from straying away.

And so she takes his hand.

Tears. Drops of rain trapped between their palms, and warmth, sadly, is too much to ask of one another.

"Let us get out of the rain," she suggests, so humbly, so quietly. "There is nothing to find in this place anymore."

A moment's pause.

"Yeah, you're right."

In relief, she exhales. She will not lose him. Not another.

Something stirs in her mind. "Beastboy...where shall we go?"

The green-skinned boy looks to the rain once again and his eyes drink in the surroundings. The buildings upon buildings scattered for many city blocks that could have answers in them, none of which would provide them a place to dry that night. So important, yet inhospitable.

"I dunno," he replies with a shrug, but his grin is returning. "We'll find somewhere."

And both optimistic, they hold the raindrops between their palms as they walk against the crowd, admiring what they can as the streetlights begin to flicker on arbitrarily at the corners.

Illuminating a face so familiar, etched in black and white and stacked twice, thrice high in newspaper stands. Blue eyes and blonde locks.

Her face follows them in every window, and has the gall to glare as they pass.

And I'm following you...

But you're a horrible guide.

As always, reviews would make me extremely happy. :3