"Mar!" I heard Sage beckon impatiently, her agitated brandishes compelling me to shove the drunk girl off of my shoulder. I shook my head vigorously, turning to the blonde draped across my shoulders.

"Leah," I mumbled gently, shaking her small frame slightly. "Can you make it a few more feet?"

"I think so," she slurred, her green eyes slowly focusing on me. "Happy Birthday, by the way!"

"Thanks," I muttered, continuing to stumble our way towards Sage. Once we reached where Sage was impatiently waiting, the sparkling blue lights twinkling on her dark black skin, I sighed in relief, letting Leah collapse on a velvet sofa. I then glanced up at Sage, who looked more otherworldly than usual under the dim lighting of the room, with defense bubbling in my eyes.

"I couldn't just leave her," I explained, gesturing to her drunken body wildly.

"It's your fucking birthday, Mar. Today's the day you should stop being so nice and be a little selfish," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes at me.

"You know I can't do that," I told her, a small grin forming on my lips.

"Yeah, yeah," she dismissed sarcastically, with a quick wave of her hands, "then you wouldn't still be the gullibly-nice-yet-somehow wicked-smart-at-the-same-time, Marcella, would you?"

"Exactly," I nodded in affirmation, my grin curling into a large smile. Sage rolled her hazel eyes at me again, before her lips curled upwards to mirror mine.

"Guess who just walked in?" Sage piped up with a smirk.

"Oh God, Sage. You did not invite Xander," I groaned, craning my neck to catch sight of the entrance of the house.

"I didn't," she promised, "but it looks like his football buddies did. And I did invite them."

"Of course," I sighed, shooting a glare at her as I caught sight of Xander walking towards the both of us. Somehow, in the mere moments that my eyes had locked onto Xander's approaching frame, Sage had faded into the crowd.

"Xander," I grinned forcefully, as he reached me, biting my lip in nervousness.

"Marcella," he murmured, an edge of anxiety evident in his tone too. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," I replied, trying to mask the butterflies building up in my stomach. His black eyes glinted in suspicion as I took a casual step away from him, in an attempt to calm my heart.

"I should go," he said, his voice resigned. With a few more steps, he had faded into the crowd as well, leaving me alone, near the edge of a staircase, on my birthday.

Well, not completely alone, I thought, as Leah's groans broke through my thoughts. I glanced at her shuddering frame before deciding to do something entirely not-me: walk away.

I stumbled into the crowd myself, fighting my way through the packs of writhing teenagers, all-consuming intoxicating levels of alcohol in the name of my birthday. Eventually, I reached my goal, the patio door, and staggered out into the cold night. The cold air kissed my bare skin, sending a slow shiver down my spine. Taking a deep breath, I gazed up at the moon, whole and complete, its natural white glow bringing me a sense of ease.

Without all of the people who claimed to love me and those who actually did, I felt a little at peace, knowing that I didn't have to be whatever they thought of me as. I could be myself: a mess of incompleteness, emotions, desperation, and loneliness.

My eyes still glued to the shadowed moon, I found myself whispering lowly: "Happy Birthday, Marcella. You're twenty fucking years old."