Chapter Text
Crage Hall had a rhythm, an order to things. The kind of school where lineage mattered, where traditions were upheld like sacred law. Every hallway had an unspoken hierarchy, every event a sense of performance.
At the center of it all—Glinda Upland.
Her honey-blonde curls always fell just right, her uniform always pressed to perfection. She was everything a Crage Hall girl was supposed to be.
And then, there was Elphaba Thropp—who was not.
Elphaba wasn’t supposed to be at the game. She never was. But tonight, she sat stiffly in the stands, arms crossed, looking like she wanted to disappear. Because tonight wasn’t normal.
It was a punishment.
She hadn’t done anything wrong—nothing new, at least. But when you were Elphaba Thropp, existing the wrong way was enough to land you in trouble.
Nessarose had insisted, and their father had agreed. She needed to socialize.
“You’re embarrassing the family, Fabala,” Nessarose had said that morning, lips pursed like she could will Elphaba into something more palatable. “It’s time you made an effort.”
And effort, apparently, meant sitting through a football game she couldn’t care less about, dressed in a Crage Hall sweatshirt that felt suffocating.
From the field, Glinda shone like a star.
Perfect, poised, untouchable.
Elphaba told herself she wasn’t staring. But she was.
The afterparty was already in full swing by the time Elphaba stepped through the door. Music pulsed against the walls, bass vibrating through the floors. Voices overlapped, laughter mixing with the sound of bottles being uncapped, glasses clinking, sneakers scuffing against the expensive wood flooring.
She hesitated just inside, the warmth of too many bodies in too little space pressing in around her. This was a mistake.
She didn’t belong here.
She could already feel the stares, the way people looked, then looked again like she had shown up in the wrong timeline. Maybe she had.
But Nessarose’s words still burned in her ears. “Just one hour.”
Across the room, Glinda stood by the staircase, drink in hand, looking every bit the queen of the scene. She was mid-laugh, tossing her golden curls over her shoulder, the dim lighting catching in her eyes.
And then she saw Elphaba.
For a split second, something shifted in Glinda’s expression—just enough that Elphaba caught it. Surprise? Annoyance? Curiosity?
Then it was gone, and the perfect mask slipped back into place.
Glinda’s gaze flicked over her—a quick, assessing sweep that felt heavier than it should have. Elphaba stood frozen under it, gripping the strap of her satchel like it could anchor her to reality.
She should turn around and walk out.
She didn’t.
Instead, she took another step inside.
Avaric passed Glinda a fresh drink, following her line of sight.
He smirked. “Didn’t think the freak liked fun.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, Glinda did.
“Didn’t think you liked thinking, and yet here you are.”
Avaric’s smirk faltered. Crope let out a delighted gasp. Tibbett bit back a laugh.
Elphaba—against her better judgment—felt the ghost of a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth.
Maybe she wouldn’t leave just yet.
Glinda didn’t know why she was still looking at her.
Elphaba had stopped standing frozen by the entrance and had started making her way toward the less-crowded side of the room. She moved with a careful sort of certainty, her posture relaxed but never vulnerable. She didn’t belong here, and she made sure everyone knew it.
Glinda took another sip of her drink, ignoring Avaric’s grumbling beside her.
Why was she still watching her?
Pfannee leaned in, her voice silky and knowing. “Goldie, darling, you’ve been staring.”
Glinda scoffed, feeling the warmth of something crawl up her neck. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Shenshen hummed, stirring the ice in her drink. “Oh, Oz. Do you think she came for someone?”
Milla snorted. “As if. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.”
Glinda rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, Elphaba passed close enough to brush by her, the barest whisper of fabric against her arm.
Glinda swore she stopped breathing for half a second.
Elphaba didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t turn her head. Didn’t look at her.
But Glinda looked at her.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt something she couldn’t name.
Elphaba made her way toward the kitchen, keeping to the edges of the crowd. Her satchel was still slung over her shoulder like a shield, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. She caught murmurs as she passed, some louder than others.
“I didn’t even know she could leave the library.”
“I heard she threatened a teacher once.”
“She’s Frex Thropp’s kid—no way she’s normal.”
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. She should be used to it by now. But that didn’t mean it didn’t scrape against something raw.
When she reached Boq, Crope, and Tibbett, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
Crope was grinning. “Well, well. Look who decided to slum it with the commoners.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes but relaxed slightly. “I’m here under duress.”
Tibbett smirked. “Figures.”
Boq, however, was still eyeing her like she’d grown a second head. “Are you okay? You hate these things.”
Elphaba shrugged. “Define ‘okay.’”
Boq didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. “If you want an escape plan, I can start a distraction.”
Crope clapped his hands. “Oh, Oz. We should stage a dramatic fight. Something scandalous.”
Tibbett grinned. “What if we fake a breakup?”
Elphaba snorted. "Please, as if anyone here even knows you're together."
Crope gasped, clutching his chest. “Elphaba, darling, how dare you undermine the great romance of our time?”
Tibbett sighed dramatically. “It’s true. We keep it so low-key, even we forget.”
Boq rolled his eyes. “You’re both idiots.”
Before Elphaba could reply, Crope grabbed a red plastic cup from the counter and thrust it toward her. “Here, drink.”
Elphaba eyed it suspiciously. “No.”
“Oh, come on.” Tibbett leaned in with a grin. “Live a little.”
“I live plenty.”
Boq smirked. “You exist plenty.”
Elphaba scoffed, arms crossing. “You’re all acting like I’ve never had alcohol before.”
Crope wiggled the cup. “Then prove it.”
Elphaba sighed, grabbed the cup, and sniffed. Immediately, she grimaced. “Oz, what is this? Paint thinner?”
Tibbett laughed. “Basically.”
Elphaba lifted the cup, hesitated, then put it back down. “Pass.”
Crope groaned. “You’re impossible.”
Boq grinned. “She’s consistent.”
Tibbett slung an arm over her shoulder. “Alright, no drinks. But you’re not getting off that easy. You’re at a party, Elphie. And we are corrupting you.”
Elphaba sighed. This night was going to be longer than she thought.
Glinda wasn’t sure why this felt different. She had seen Elphaba before—obviously. They had shared classrooms, hallways, the same cafeteria since as far back as she could recall, since they were old enough to be in school. But she had never actually looked at her before. And now she couldn’t seem to stop.
She should have been paying attention to the conversation happening around her—Pfannee was talking about something dramatic, Shenshen was adding unnecessary details, and Milla was giggling into her drink. But Glinda was… distracted.
Elphaba had settled into the party just enough to not stand out completely. She was tucked near the kitchen with her group, arms crossed, expression unreadable as Crope and Tibbett chattered away. Boq said something, and Elphaba’s mouth curled just slightly—almost a smirk, almost something real.
Glinda swallowed hard. Why was she noticing that?
Pfannee nudged her. “Goldie, you’ve been awfully quiet. Something interesting?”
Glinda blinked, forcing a light laugh. “No, just… zoning out.”
“Zoning out at Elphaba Thropp?” Pfannee teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Shenshen gasped dramatically. "Oh, Oz. Are you actually paying attention to her?"
Glinda rolled her eyes so hard it nearly hurt. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
But her face felt warm, and she hated that.
Elphaba wasn’t oblivious. They had known each other for years—of each other, at least. Crage Hall was small enough that even if they had never run in the same circles, their worlds had always been close enough to brush. But this? This was new.
She could feel Glinda’s eyes on her.
It wasn’t the same as the usual looks she got. It wasn’t disgust, it wasn’t dismissal. It was something else. And that? That was dangerous.
She ignored it—until someone stumbled past her, knocking into her shoulder and sending her stepping back right into someone else.
Someone warm. Someone small. Someone who smelled expensive and far too familiar.
Glinda.
The contact sent a jolt through Elphaba’s spine. She turned, steadying herself on instinct, and froze.
Glinda’s hand was on her arm. Her blue eyes were wide, lips parted slightly. Too close.
“Watch it,” Glinda murmured, but there was no bite to it. No sharpness.
Elphaba should have moved away. She didn’t.
“I—” Elphaba started, but her voice caught. Oh, Oz, what was this?
From the corner of her eye, Elphaba saw Nessarose shift, lips pursed in cold disapproval.
Someone called Glinda’s name from across the room, and just like that, the moment shattered.
Glinda stepped back, smoothing down her dress as if that brief contact had unsettled something in her. It had.
Elphaba exhaled slowly, feeling off-balance.
Neither of them said anything else.
But neither of them forgot it, either.
The party began to blur together. The music got louder, the drinks flowed easier, and the night pressed on with the same predictable rhythm. Elphaba stayed longer than she should have.
She didn’t drink, despite Crope and Tibbett’s best efforts, but she stood at their side long enough for it to feel like she waspart of the party rather than an observer to it. And Nessa never stopped watching.
Eventually, the exhaustion crept in. The heat of too many bodies, the drone of overlapping conversations—it all started to close in. It was time to go.
She muttered something to Boq, who nodded in understanding, and began to make her way to the door. But before she could slip out—
“Elphaba.”
She turned.
Nessarose.
Her sister’s expression was neutral, but her voice carried the weight of an unspoken Finally.
“I’m leaving,” Elphaba said, voice flat. “Happy?”
Nessa gave a slow, assessing nod, her hands tightening slightly on the wheels of her chair. "We’re leaving, together. Now."
Elphaba almost told her no. Almost. But she caught the look in her sister’s eyes—sharp, knowing, quietly disapproving.
Nessa had seen everything.
Glinda. The glances. The way she lingered too long. The way she hesitated before leaving.
Elphaba exhaled sharply and turned toward the door. “Fine.”
She didn’t look back as they left. Didn’t look for Glinda.
But she still felt the weight of eyes on her. And she wasn’t sure whose they were.
Chapter Text
Monday came too fast. The weekend faded into a mess of unfinished assignments, restless thoughts, and the lingering headache of having been perceived for far too long.
Elphaba kept her head down, hoping the night would disappear into irrelevance like all the others.
But Crage Hall had a habit of remembering everything.
And Glinda Upland was still looking at her.
Elphaba felt it before she saw it—felt the shift in the air, the pause before attention landed where it never had before. She looked up from her locker, and there she was.
Glinda, standing just down the hall, watching.
Elphaba raised a brow, waiting for the inevitable look away.
But Glinda didn’t.
Instead, she tilted her head, considering.
And then she smiled—small, quick, but real. Like she knew something Elphaba didn’t.
Elphaba blinked.
And before she could even think of a reaction, Glinda turned and walked away.
Leaving Elphaba with a very, very bad feeling about all of this.
Between classes, the hallways of Crage Hall were a battlefield of whispered gossip, perfectly executed hair flips, and social maneuvering so sharp it could draw blood.
Glinda strolled between Pfannee and Shenshen, perfectly poised, every movement deliberate. The morning had been spent in an endless stream of chatter—who hooked up at the party, who drank too much, who had humiliated themselves beyond repair.
Glinda wasn’t really listening.
She was watching her.
Elphaba stood at her locker, flipping through her textbooks, entirely unbothered by the chaos around her. She didn’t try to shrink back. She didn’t move faster. She just existed, and somehow, that was enough to throw the natural order off balance.
“Goldie, you’re spacing out again.” Pfannee’s voice was sing-songy, but sharp underneath. The nickname had started as a joke—something Crope had called her once at a party, marveling at her golden curls and how she always seemed to glow under the right lighting. Pfannee had seized on it, turning it from a compliment into a tease, a constant reminder that Glinda was expected to be the golden girl, the one who never faltered, never lost focus. And now, whenever she wasn’t perfectly in step with their world, they made sure to bring her back to it.
Glinda blinked, shifting her attention back to her friends. “Just thinking.”
Shenshen followed her gaze, lips curling into a smirk. “Thinking about the party? Or thinking about her?”
Glinda scoffed, rolling her eyes for effect. “Oz, don’t be ridiculous.”
But she didn’t deny it.
On the other side of the hallway, Elphaba slammed her locker shut, eyes flickering toward Boq, Crope, and Tibbett, who were all loitering nearby.
“She’s looking at you again,” Boq muttered, leaning against the wall.
Elphaba barely spared him a glance. “Who?”
Boq snorted. “You know who.”
Tibbett elbowed Crope, who was already grinning. “It’s kinda weird. Like, is she planning something?”
Crope nodded sagely. “The girl doesn’t stare at people unless she wants something.”
Elphaba sighed, tucking a book under her arm. “Then let’s all hope she gets the message, I've got nothing to give.”
She walked past them, heading toward class, ignoring the way her skin burned from the attention she refused to acknowledge.
Elphaba slid into her seat in Ethics & Morality, tucking herself into the farthest corner of the classroom as usual. Out of sight, out of mind.
Professor Morrible, a stiff woman with a gaze that could peel the confidence off even the most well-bred Crage Hall student, was already writing the day’s discussion points on the board.
Across the room, Glinda perched perfectly in her seat, legs crossed, pen twirling between her fingers. She had an ease in this class, a confidence that came with always knowing she was right.
Elphaba hated that about her.
Morrible turned, scanning the room. “Today, we will be discussing societal responsibility in the context of moral absolutism versus moral relativism.” She smiled—sharp and thin. “And I suspect we may have quite the conversation.”
Elphaba leaned back in her chair. She already knew how this was going to go. Glinda would speak first, her voice like spun gold, delivering some perfectly worded argument that sounded profound but lacked weight.
And sure enough—
Glinda raised her hand.
“Elphaba,” Morrible’s voice cut through the air before Glinda could even speak. “Why don’t you start us off?”
Elphaba blinked. What.
She saw it then—the flicker of something smug on Glinda’s face. Like she had planned this.
Elphaba narrowed her eyes and exhaled through her nose before sitting up straighter. “Moral absolutism is a naive construct. No situation is ever truly black and white—context will always influence morality.”
Glinda raised an eyebrow, lips curving ever so slightly. “So you’re saying nothing is ever right or wrong? There are no real consequences?”
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. Oh, Oz, she wanted a fight.
Morrible watched them with interest, a knowing gleam in her eye. She lived for this.
Elphaba forced a sharp smile. “I’m saying people like to pretend morality is a universal constant when really, it’s just a reflection of whatever benefits them most.”
Glinda tilted her head, as if pondering. “That’s a very cynical way to live.”
“And you live in a very convenient world where nothing ever challenges you.”
Glinda’s lashes fluttered, but her smile remained. “Careful, Thropp. You almost sound like you’re jealous.”
The air in the room shifted. A few students looked up from their notes.
Elphaba’s smirk was slow and deliberate. “Jealous? Of what?”
Glinda leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, voice just low enough to be something only Elphaba could hear. “Everything you pretend not to want.”
Elphaba refused to react. Refused to give Glinda the satisfaction.
Morrible clapped her hands once. “Excellent discussion. Let’s keep it moving.”
Glinda straightened, turning her attention back to the class like nothing had happened.
Elphaba let out a slow breath.
She was going to kill her.
Elphaba didn’t think the day could get worse. She should’ve known better.
History of Oz was always a tense subject for her—too much whitewashing, too much pretending that past oppressions were just misunderstandings.
Professor Dillamond, at least, was different. He encouraged debate, let students question things. Which was probably why Elphaba was the only person who actually enjoyed this class.
She settled into her seat, flipping open her notebook. And then Dillamond spoke:
“You’ll be working in pairs for your semester project.”
A collective groan went up from the room. Elphaba ignored it—until Dillamond’s next words made her stomach drop.
“I’ve already assigned your partners,” Dillamond announced, adjusting his glasses as he scanned a list. “Boq and Avaric. Crope and Tibbett.” He paused. “Shenshen and Pfannee.”
Glinda barely listened, already assuming she’d be paired with someone effortless—someone she could charm into doing most of the work.
Then—
“Elphaba and Glinda.”
Elphaba’s grip tightened around her pencil, the wood creaking in protest.
She froze.
A chair scraped beside her.
Glinda set her bag down with far too much ease.
“Looks like we’ll be spending so much more time together, Thropp.”
Elphaba clenched her jaw. Murder was illegal.
Dillamond continued, unaware of the silent war already brewing. “Your task is to analyze a historical figure and present a case for how history may have misrepresented them.”
Elphaba stared straight ahead. Of course. Of course this was happening.
Glinda nudged her notebook toward her. “So… shall we?”
Elphaba exhaled sharply. “Let’s just get this over with.”
This was going to be an absolute disaster
The first mistake was assuming they could work together in public.
Glinda had insisted on meeting at the campus library—neutral ground, brightly lit, plenty of distractions. It was the logical choice.
It was also the worst idea either of them had ever had.
Elphaba sat with her arms crossed, glaring at the open book between them. Glinda twirled her pen between her fingers, perfectly unbothered.
“This isn’t going to work,” Elphaba finally said.
Glinda hummed, barely glancing up. “What, teamwork? I’d have to agree.”
“No, this.” Elphaba jabbed a finger at the book. “Dorothea Callis? Are you serious?”
Glinda blinked at her, offended. “She was a visionary.”
“She was a socialite with a flair for theatrics. Her ‘philosophies’ were nothing more than grand speeches designed to make the upper class feel generous.”
Glinda scoffed. “At least she was influential. Unlike—who did you pick? Some obscure radical who got arrested?”
Elphaba’s nostrils flared. “Shaymus Vey was a political strategist—”
“Oh, Oz, spare me.” Glinda waved a dismissive hand. “If I have to listen to you rant about corrupt historical narratives, I’m going to fall asleep.”
Elphaba sat back, rubbing her temples. “This is why Dillamond assigned partners. He knew we’d argue ourselves into an early grave.”
Glinda smirked. “I think he just enjoys watching you suffer.”
Elphaba let out a slow breath. “Fine. Compromise. We find a figure with actual depth.”
Glinda tapped her fingers against the table, considering. “What about Lurline?”
Elphaba made a face. “Are you trying to make me combust?”
Glinda grinned. “Maybe.”
They lapsed into silence, scanning through their notes. The air between them wasn’t hostile exactly—it was charged. Like they were both waiting for the other to crack first.
Glinda sighed dramatically. “Well, if we’re going to be miserable together, we should at least make it easier to communicate.”
Elphaba eyed her warily. “Meaning?”
Glinda pulled her phone out, sliding it across the table. “Numbers. Don’t act like you don’t have one.”
Elphaba hesitated for a second before sighing and entering her number. She slid the phone back without looking at Glinda, but the blonde was grinning like she’d won something.
Elphaba scowled. “It’s for academic purposes only.”
“Of course,” Glinda said sweetly. “Purely professional.”
Elphaba had a very bad feeling about this.
Their partnership was off to a terrible start.
They had burned through at least ten different historical figures before reaching something resembling common ground. It had taken nearly an hour of sharp rebuttals, exasperated sighs, and one brief moment where Elphaba looked like she might throw her book across the room.
Finally, Glinda leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Fine. What about Lady Pertha?”
Elphaba hesitated. “The former diplomat?”
“Yes.” Glinda perked up. “She reformed trade laws and negotiated peace during the Thrain Uprising, and she was a known advocate for social justice.”
Elphaba tilted her head, considering. “She also leveraged her influence to keep certain voices silenced.”
Glinda sighed. “Oz, can’t we pick someone without a dark side?”
Elphaba smirked. “That would be historically inaccurate.”
They stared at each other for a long moment before Glinda let out a dramatic groan. “Fine. Pertha it is.”
Elphaba nodded. “Pertha it is.”
Glinda tapped a note into her phone, then glanced at Elphaba. “Well, partner, I suppose we should schedule a time to actually do the work.”
Elphaba raised a brow. “You actually plan on contributing?”
Glinda gasped, placing a perfectly manicured hand over her chest in mock offense. “I am an excellent student.”
Elphaba snorted. “Sure.”
Glinda smirked and held up her phone. “Lucky for you, you now have the honor of being in my contacts. I’ll text you.”
Elphaba groaned, already regretting everything.
Glinda grinned. She was enjoying this far too much.
Chapter Text
Crage Hall prided itself on its athletics. From football to fencing, cheerleading to cross-country, every student was expected to participate in at least one sport. It was part of the tradition.
Glinda thrived in cheerleading practice. The energy, the movement, the sheer performance of it all—it was her stage, and she owned it. Every toe-touch, every stunt, every high-pitched call was executed with absolute precision. She knew eyes were always on her, and she loved it.
Across campus, Elphaba was running.
Not from anything—though, if asked, she might have said from everything.
Track suited her. It was individual, strategic. No one was relying on her to lift them or kick a ball or score a goal. She just had to be fast. And Elphaba was fast. Her long strides ate up the track, her braids barely shifting as she pushed forward, her focus sharp, her breath controlled.
She wasn’t running to be seen. She was running to feel like she existed outside of expectations, outside of stares, outside of the weight of everything.
The locker rooms were always chaotic after practice. Glinda stood in front of the mirror, reapplying her lip gloss as Pfannee and Shenshen gossiped beside her.
“You’re being weird,” Pfannee said suddenly, nudging Glinda’s arm.
Glinda arched a brow. “Excuse me?”
Shenshen smirked. “She means you’ve been thinking too hard today. It’s not your color.”
Glinda rolled her eyes, screwing her lip gloss shut. “I think all the time.”
“Not about your new favorite academic rival,” Pfannee teased, a knowing lilt in her voice.
Glinda scoffed, grabbing her bag. “You’re both insufferable.”
They laughed, following her out of the gym. Then she saw her.
Elphaba was walking up from the track, water bottle in hand, her long legs moving with an easy grace that didn’t belong to someone who claimed to hate physical activity. Sweat darkened the collar of her long-sleeved compression shirt, and her braids clung damply to the nape of her neck. She looked exhausted but unbothered, like she had already left everything behind her on the track, her expression unreadable beneath the sheen of exertion.
Glinda slowed her pace. Why was she noticing this?
Elphaba must have sensed the attention because she turned, locking eyes with Glinda. A beat passed.
“Wow, you sweat,” Glinda said before she could stop herself.
Elphaba blinked at her, then snorted. “That’s generally what happens when you run.”
Glinda tossed her hair. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
Pfannee and Shenshen were watching with wide eyes, barely containing their amusement. Glinda ignored them.
Elphaba shifted her bag over her shoulder, glancing toward the exit. “So, uh… are we actually going to work on this project, or are you just planning to annoy me via text?”
Glinda smirked. “Why not both?”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, muttering something under her breath before nodding toward the parking lot. “Tomorrow. Library.”
“Fine,” Glinda said, already bored of the logistics. “Text me the time.”
Elphaba gave her a long look, then sighed. “Yeah. Fine.”
She turned to leave, and for reasons Glinda refused to examine, she watched her go.
Pfannee nudged her. “You like this.”
Glinda flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
But as they headed for the parking lot, her phone buzzed in her bag.
Elphaba: Tomorrow. 4 PM. Don’t be late.
Glinda smiled.
She rolled her eyes and typed back: Wow, you even boss people around over text. Can’t wait.
Elphaba exited the locker rooms and spotted Boq, Crope, and Tibbett waiting near the parking lot. Boq was leaning against his car, tossing an apple between his hands, while Crope and Tibbett were deep in conversation about something that involved a lot of hand gestures.
Tibbett waved dramatically when he saw her. “Look who survived another day of forced athleticism!”
Elphaba sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Barely.”
Boq tossed the apple at her. She caught it, frowning. “What’s this?”
“Dinner,” Boq said with a grin. “Or the only thing you’ll eat before you lock yourself in your room with a book.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes but took a bite anyway. “Where are you guys headed?”
Crope stretched. “Thinking about grabbing food. The diner?”
Tibbett nodded. “Boq’s driving. You in?”
Elphaba considered it. Going home meant dealing with Nessarose. Going to the diner meant tolerating Crope and Tibbett’s chaotic energy.
She exhaled. “Fine. But if I hear one I told you so about my new favorite study partner, I’m walking home.”
Crope grinned. “No promises.”
They piled into Boq’s car, and as they pulled out of the parking lot, Elphaba’s phone buzzed again. Glinda.
She ignored it. For now.
The diner was their usual spot—cheap, open late, and just far enough off-campus that they could exist without the weight of Crage Hall expectations pressing down on them.
Elphaba slid into the booth across from Boq while Crope and Tibbett squeezed in beside him. The smell of greasy fries and coffee lingered in the air, a sharp contrast to the pristine order of the school dining hall.
Crope barely waited for the menus to hit the table before grinning at her. “So. You and Glinda.”
Elphaba groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Oz save me.”
Boq smirked. “That’s a weird way to say ‘yes, we’re best friends now.’”
Tibbett leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, come on. I saw her looking at you.”
Elphaba lifted her head just enough to glare at them. “She hates me.”
“She looked like she wanted to climb into your lap and make you do her homework,” Crope said, biting into a fry.
Elphaba snatched one from his plate. “She’s manipulative, that’s what she is. And insufferable.”
Boq stirred his coffee, barely hiding his grin. “And texting you.”
Elphaba’s fingers tightened around her stolen fry. “She’s texting about the project.”
Tibbett gasped dramatically. “You saved her number?”
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “She put my number in her phone first.”
Crope rested his chin in his hand, smiling like this was his favorite form of entertainment. “And yet, here you are, ignoring her.”
Elphaba sighed, finally taking a bite of the fry. “Because I have sanity.”
Boq glanced at her phone, which was face-down on the table. “How long are you going to hold out before texting her back?”
Elphaba smirked. “How long can I make her suffer?”
Tibbett let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, this is going to be so fun to watch.”
Crope leaned forward. “Do we think Glinda Upland is used to being ignored?”
They all considered it.
Boq shook his head. “Not a chance.”
Tibbett grinned. “So, what happens when she decides that’s unacceptable?”
Elphaba chewed thoughtfully before reaching for another fry. “Guess we’ll find out.”
She didn’t check her phone. Not yet. But she was starting to wonder how long Glinda would let her get away with it.
By the time Elphaba got home, the house was dimly lit, the quiet hum of a clock filling the empty space. Shell was sitting on the couch, flipping through a book he was clearly pretending to read.
He glanced up when she walked in. “You smell like outside.”
Elphaba smirked, dropping her bag by the door. “And you smell like you haven’t moved all day.”
Shell rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Dinner’s in the kitchen. Not that I expect you to eat it.”
Frex’s voice came from down the hall. “Elphaba, is that you?”
She sighed, already regretting coming home at all. “No, it’s an intruder.”
Frex appeared in the doorway, frowning. “It’s late. You shouldn’t be out this late on a school night.”
Elphaba waved him off. “I was with friends.”
That didn’t seem to reassure him. “I’d like to know where you’re going next time.”
She grabbed the kettle off the stove, filling it with water and setting it to heat. Leaning against the counter, she crossed her arms, watching the water ripple as the burner glowed beneath it. The kitchen clock ticked in the silence, the house feeling heavier at night, too still, too expectant.
She met Frex's eyes. “I’m fine.”
Frex sighed but didn’t push further.
The whistle broke through the quiet, and she moved mechanically, pouring the water over a tea bag, the rich, earthy scent curling into the air. She wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the heat seep into her fingers as she turned toward the stairs.
Upstairs, Elphaba set the mug on her nightstand and dropped her bag onto the floor. She grabbed her bottle of oil, rubbing it between her palms before smoothing it over her skin, the ritual grounding her as she unwound from the day. The weight of running, of school, of everything, eased slightly as she moved through the familiar motions.
Then her phone buzzed.
She sighed, reaching for it. Glinda. Again.
Glinda: I know you saw my text, Thropp. Are you really this bad at working in pairs?
Elphaba smirked, sinking back against her pillows. So she wasn’t giving up that easily.
Elphaba woke up to the sound of her alarm—on its third cycle.
She groaned, rolling onto her side and blinking at the red glow of the numbers. Seven fifty-eight. Oz. She was late.
Scrambling upright, she shoved the blankets off and stumbled toward her dresser, silently thanking the Unamed God for school uniforms.
She barely had time to braid her hair back before grabbing her bag and shoving her books inside.
By the time she stomped down the stairs, Shell was sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal like he had all the time in the world.
He glanced at her over his spoon. “You look awful.”
Elphaba grabbed a piece of toast from the plate by the stove. “You look like you’re about to be my first casualty today.”
Frex, already dressed for work, glanced up from his newspaper. “Overslept?”
Elphaba took a bite of toast and mumbled, “No, I planned this.”
Shell snorted, and Frex sighed, clearly unimpressed, but Elphaba didn’t wait around for a lecture.
She grabbed her car keys from the counter and stormed out the door.
Elphaba’s car was a sleek black sedan, older but well-maintained, with tinted windows and a slightly growling engine that made it feel more powerful than it was. It had quirks—the dashboard lights flickered occasionally, and the heat took its time in the winter—but it was dependable, and more importantly, hers. She threw her bag in the passenger seat and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life with a low purr, and she tapped the wheel impatiently before backing out of the driveway. She tore out onto the road, eyes flicking to the clock. If I don’t hit every red light, I can still make it.
Meanwhile, across town, Glinda was having a very different kind of morning. Her car—a sleek, pearl-white luxury coupe—purred as she backed smoothly out of her driveway, the morning sun glinting off its freshly washed surface. Unlike Elphaba, Glinda had time. She had woken up early, taken her time picking out the perfect combination of Oxford shirts and plaid skirts, and even had breakfast prepared by the house staff before heading out. She wasn’t in a rush. She never had to be. She also had study hall first period, which helped.
As she pulled onto the main road, she tapped at her phone’s voice assistant. “Call Pfannee.” The line rang twice before Pfannee’s chipper voice filled the car. “Morning, Goldie.”
Glinda smiled. “Morning. You at school yet?”
“Almost. Shenshen and I are in the lot—Milla’s already in the locker room.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you soon.” She ended the call and drummed her nails against the steering wheel, glancing at the traffic around her.
Everything was exactly as it should be—her morning was predictable, controlled, perfect.
Elphaba tapped her fingers impatiently against the wheel, watching as cars flew past in the opposite direction. And then, a flash of white and chrome pulled up next to her. Glinda’s car slid to a smooth stop beside hers.
The contrast was almost comical—Glinda’s polished luxury coupe gleaming in the morning light, while Elphaba’s dark sedan idled with an impatient hum. Glinda, oblivious, reached up to adjust her sunglasses. Then, as if sensing something, she turned her head.
Their eyes met. Glinda’s lips parted in surprise, like she hadn’t expected to see her there. Then, slowly, she smirked. Elphaba scowled and turned back toward the light, willing it to turn green. It didn’t.
Glinda tapped at her phone again, and a moment later, Elphaba’s phone buzzed.
Glinda: Running late, Thropp? How very unlike you. Elphaba rolled her eyes, gripping the steering wheel.
Elphaba: Stay in your lane, Upland.
Glinda’s car crept forward slightly, just enough to inch ahead of her at the light.
Glinda: Already ahead of you.
The light turned green, and Glinda took off, her car gliding effortlessly onto the road. Elphaba cursed under her breath and slammed her foot on the gas. Today was going to be infuriating.
Glinda’s first period was study hall, which meant she had plenty of time in the mornings. Unlike Elphaba, who had rushed into school at the last second, Glinda had leisurely made her way to the quad before class even started. First period had been spent exactly how she liked it—relaxed, effortless, and with plenty of time to socialize.
She was, however, in the quad, waiting for her boyfriend, who was, as usual, nowhere to be found.
Fiyero had texted her earlier with some excuse for skipping, but it didn’t matter—he had a reputation for it.
With Fiyero absent, Avaric slid into his usual role—an opportunist with no boundaries. He leaned against the stone bench beside her, his arm draping lazily around her shoulders. “You know, Fiyero’s not the only one who likes a little attention in the morning, you didn't text me back.”
Glinda hummed, running a hand through her perfectly curled hair. "I had better things to do."
Avaric smirked, ignoring the fact that she was still technically Fiyero’s. “Like what?”
She paused. Thinking about Elphaba, apparently.
She shook the thought off and smiled. “Getting ready. Unlike some people, I actually care about looking presentable.”
Pfannee, lounging nearby, smirked. “Careful, Avaric, Fiyero might actually show up today.”
Avaric rolled his eyes but squeezed Glinda’s waist. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Glinda gave him her best dazzling smile, pretending she liked this.
But her phone buzzed in her lap, and when she glanced down, her lips twitched.
Meanwhile, across campus, Elphaba’s study hall wasn’t until right before lunch, right before the midday slump had set in and half the students were too drained to pretend they cared about getting work done.
By the time Elphaba’s study hall period arrived, Crage Hall was in full swing—students already exhausted, assignments hastily completed, and the caffeine from first period already starting to wear off. For Elphaba, study hall was supposed to be a moment of peace. A time to finish whatever work she had put off and avoid unnecessary social interaction.
That plan, however, had not accounted for Fiyero.
She walked into the room, immediately spotting Boq, Crope, and Tibbett at their usual table near the windows. She moved toward them, only to notice someone else had taken up space at the table.
Fiyero wasn’t even supposed to be in this study hall.
Elphaba sighed. “Why are you here?”
Fiyero smirked, letting his chair drop forward with a loud thud. “Got kicked out of my own. Something about ‘not respecting the sanctity of quiet study time.’”
Crope grinned. “So, naturally, they threw you in here.”
“Tragic,” Tibbett added with a sigh. “Guess you’ll have to endure him.”
Fiyero flashed them a lazy grin. “You wound me.”
Elphaba narrowed her eyes but dropped into the seat across from him anyway. “Just don’t talk to me.”
Fiyero placed a hand over his heart. “You think I want to?”
Boq looked between them, clearly amused. “You two should start a debate team.”
Elphaba ignored him and pulled out her notebook. The morning light streamed through the windows, casting the table in soft gold. The atmosphere was almost peaceful.
Until her phone buzzed.
She sighed, flipping it over. Glinda.
Glinda: Did you even try to be on time?
Elphaba rolled her eyes and shoved her phone back into her bag.
Fiyero, watching with far too much interest, raised an eyebrow. “What’s that about?”
“Nothing.”
Tibbett snorted. “That was defensive.”
Elphaba shot him a glare. “I hate all of you.”
Crope smirked. “Liar.”
Chapter Text
Lunch at Crage Hall was its own ecosystem. The cafeteria was expansive, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the long tables in natural light. Every friend group had their spot. Unspoken territory wars had been settled years ago, and shifting from one table to another was a statement.
Elphaba, Boq, Crope, and Tibbett always sat in the same corner—far enough from the center of the cafeteria that they could be left alone, but not so far that they looked like they were hiding.
Across the cafeteria, Fiyero had decided to sit with his girlfriend.
Glinda sat at her usual place, Pfannee and Shenshen on either side, Milla and Avaric across from her. Fiyero slid into the empty space beside her, immediately draping an arm over the back of her chair.
“So,” he said, flashing his signature grin, “how much did you miss me?”
Glinda huffed, taking a delicate sip of her water. “You don’t want me to answer that.”
Pfannee laughed. “Careful, Yero. She was in a mood earlier.”
“I was not in a mood,” Glinda corrected, though the edge in her voice made it clear she wasn’t pleased with him. “I was simply annoyed that my boyfriend couldn’t be bothered to show up to half his classes.”
Fiyero pressed a hand to his chest as if wounded. “In my defense, I was learning valuable life lessons elsewhere.”
“Oh, Oz.” Glinda rolled her eyes. “You sound ridiculous.”
Across the cafeteria, Elphaba looked up just in time to see Glinda glance in her direction.
Avaric, catching the look, smirked. “You sure you were annoyed about him skipping? Or just annoyed he didn’t show up when you wanted him to?”
Glinda set her water down with a sharp click. “Quiet.”
Milla giggled behind her hand. “I mean, you have been distracted today.”
Glinda lifted her chin. “I have not.”
But her fingers still lingered against her phone.
Back at Elphaba’s table, Crope popped a fry into his mouth, watching the exchange from a distance. “That’s so interesting.”
Tibbett smirked. “What is?”
“That,” Crope said, nodding toward Glinda’s table. “The way she’s barely paying attention to her very handsome, very rich, very present boyfriend.”
Boq stole a fry from Crope’s tray. “You have theories, don’t you?”
Crope grinned. “Always.”
Elphaba ignored them, stabbing at her salad with more force than necessary. It didn’t matter.
Or at least, it shouldn’t.
After lunch, the students of Crage Hall shuffled toward their next classes. For Elphaba, that meant History of Oz with Professor Dillamond.
She filed into the classroom with Boq, Crope and Tibbett. Professor Dillamond, a soft-spoken but sharp-minded teacher, was already writing on the board, seemingly lost in thought.
“I swear,” Boq muttered as he dropped into his chair, “if we have another pop reading quiz, I’m going to walk out.”
“You won’t,” Tibbett said, propping his chin on his hand. “You’re too much of a teacher’s pet.”
Elphaba smirked. “He’s not wrong.”
Before Boq could argue, the door swung open, and the energy in the room shifted.
Glinda walked in, her presence as effortless as always, her curls bouncing as she made her way to a seat near the front. She and Elphaba had sat in the same spots yesterday, and today was no different.
Professor Dillamond turned from the board, dusting chalk from his hands. “Settle in, everyone. Today, we’re covering the shifting political climate in the early days of Ozian rule…”
Elphaba flipped open her notebook, forcing herself to focus. But out of the corner of her eye, she could still see Fiyero leaning in close to Glinda, whispering something against her ear.
Glinda laughed lightly, tilting her head toward him, her pen twirling absently between her fingers. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough for Elphaba to hear, enough to remind her that Glinda Upland was someone else’s.
Elphaba didn’t roll her eyes. She didn’t scoff. She didn’t react at all.
She just took notes.
Like it didn’t matter.
Like she wasn’t watching.
Elphaba was already regretting this.
She sat at one of the library’s large wooden tables, her notebook open, pen tapping idly against the margin. She had arrived exactly on time—because of course she had. Glinda, however, was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn’t that Elphaba wanted her to be punctual, but if she was being forced into this study session, she’d rather just get it over with.
She sighed, glancing up at the grand windows lining the far wall. Outside, the sky had started shifting toward evening, gold melting into pink. The library itself was relatively quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of pages or whispered conversation.
She checked the clock.
Glinda was late.
And then, as if summoned by the sheer force of Elphaba’s irritation, a pair of heels clicked against the marble floor.
Elphaba didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The scent of expensive perfume and the soft swish of perfectly tailored fabric announced Glinda’s arrival before she ever spoke.
“Sorry, sorry,” Glinda said breezily, dropping her bag onto the table. “I got caught up.”
Elphaba arched a brow. “Doing what?”
Glinda smoothed her skirt and smiled. “Things.”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she flipped open their project rubric. “Right. Well, since I don’t have a team of assistants doing my work for me, I’ve already outlined most of what we need.” She slid a page across the table. “Pick something.”
Glinda blinked at the paper before looking back at Elphaba. “You just…did this already?”
“Would you have preferred I waited until the night before it was due?”
Glinda huffed, crossing her arms. “No. But you could have at least asked me what I wanted to do.”
Elphaba sighed, gesturing at the page. “That’s what you’re doing now. Choose.”
Glinda glanced down, scanning the neat columns Elphaba had listed. Her lips pursed, as if considering, before she picked up her pen and crossed something out.
Elphaba’s eyes narrowed. “Did you just—”
“I didn’t like that one,” Glinda said simply, replacing the name with another.
Elphaba clenched her jaw. “You could have just said that.”
“I’m saying it now.”
They stared at each other, tension thick enough to cut. The library remained hushed around them, other students too absorbed in their own work to notice the silent battle happening at their table.
Finally, Elphaba rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Just—do you at least agree with the structure?”
Glinda tapped her pen against her lower lip, considering. “It’s…acceptable.”
Elphaba let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, well, thank Oz it meets your high standards.”
Glinda ignored her sarcasm, flipping to a blank page in her notebook. “So, when are we doing this?”
Elphaba pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’re doing it now.”
Glinda blinked. “Right now?”
“Yes, Upland. Now.”
Glinda sighed dramatically, but when she met Elphaba’s gaze again, there was a flicker of something else—something unreadable.
Elphaba didn’t dwell on it. She just picked up her pen and started writing.
The first few minutes were filled with silence, the only sounds being the scratch of pens against paper and the occasional rustle of a page turning. Despite their earlier tension, they were managing to work—until Glinda sighed heavily and flopped back in her chair.
"Ugh, this is so boring."
Elphaba didn’t even look up. "It’s research, Upland. It’s not supposed to be thrilling."
Glinda spun her pen between her fingers, her eyes drifting toward the clock. "We’re not going to finish this tonight, are we?"
Elphaba finally glanced up, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "No. Because someone was late."
Glinda pouted. "Oh, come on. Like you actually thought we’d get it all done in one sitting."
Elphaba leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I hoped."
Glinda smirked, closing her notebook with a satisfied snap. "Well, too bad. Because I have practice soon, and I refuse to show up exhausted."
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, rubbing her temples. "Fine. When’s the next session?"
Glinda tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Hmm…not sure. I’ll have to check my very busy schedule."
Elphaba groaned, already regretting asking. "Text me when you figure it out."
Glinda’s smile widened. "Oh, look at you. So eager to hear from me."
Elphaba gave her a flat look. "I will block your number."
Glinda laughed, standing and tossing her bag over her shoulder. "See you later, Thropp. Try not to miss me."
Elphaba watched her leave, shaking her head as she packed up her own things. This project was going to be a nightmare.
The rhythmic echo of cheers and synchronized claps filled the air as Crage Hall’s cheer team moved in perfect unison across the field.
The stadium lights cast a glow over the perfectly manicured grass, illuminating Glinda Upland at the very center of it all.
With each high-kicked toe touch, with every perfectly timed tumbling pass, she exuded an effortless confidence—a queen commanding her court.
She wasn’t just good at this. She was made for it.
“Alright, reset!” The sharp command came from Coach Vera, standing near the sideline with her clipboard tucked under one arm. “I need those stunts clean. Flyers, lock in your cores; bases, stay tight!”
Glinda took her place at the front as the team moved back into formation. The familiar rush of adrenaline thrummed in her veins as she inhaled deeply, preparing for the next rep.
Pfannee and Shenshen flanked her, both bouncing on their toes in anticipation. Behind them, the backline murmured amongst themselves, adjusting grips and footing.
“All good?” Glinda called out, scanning the squad.
A chorus of confirmations rang back.
She turned to Milla, her flyer for the next stunt, and squeezed her wrist. “You got this, babe.”
Milla nodded, confidence flickering through her features.
With a sharp clap, they began.
The bases braced, hands positioned just right. The backspot secured her grip. And then—
Milla launched into the air, her body lifting effortlessly into a perfect extension.
Everything held still for a moment—the kind of suspended, weightless magic that only cheerleading could create.
And then—
“Catch! Catch! Catch!”
The command barely had time to register before Milla wobbled. Her ankle wrenched midair, sending her off-center. The bases tried to adjust, arms straining, but it was too late.
Glinda reacted on instinct, rushing forward just as Milla came crashing down.
The impact wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been—she didn’t hit the ground outright, but the awkward catch made them all stumble.
Silence.
Coach Vera let out a slow breath, stepping forward. “Everyone alright?”
Milla grimaced, shifting carefully in Glinda’s grip before nodding. “Yeah. Just landed weird.”
Glinda exhaled. “You sure?”
Milla nodded again, rolling her ankle gently. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”
Coach Vera gave her a look before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s call it for today. We’ll run it again before the game on Friday. Good work, everyone—just clean it up.”
A collective sigh of relief swept over the squad as they broke apart to grab their things.
Pfannee leaned in with a smirk. “Maybe if you weren’t so distracted today, Goldie, we wouldn’t be having these issues.”
Glinda turned, arching a brow. “What exactly do you think I’m distracted by?”
Pfannee just grinned. “Oh, you know.”
Shenshen giggled. “Someone’s been acting off all day.”
Glinda rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore them. “Maybe you two should focus more on hitting your marks than on whatever delusions you’re entertaining.”
Pfannee simply hummed, tossing her pom-poms over her shoulder. “Whatever you say.”
Glinda let out a slow breath, stretching out her shoulders before grabbing her bag.
Friday’s game was the first of the season and it needed to go perfectly.
And she refused to let any distractions get in the way.
The rest of the team had already started clearing out, voices fading as they disappeared into the locker room or off toward the parking lot. Glinda stayed behind, still standing near the center of the field, stretching out her shoulders as the adrenaline from practice slowly ebbed away.
Her muscles ached—a good ache, one she was used to. What she wasn’t used to was feeling off.
She sighed, rolling her neck as she stared up at the darkening sky. The stadium lights buzzed softly, casting long shadows across the empty bleachers. It was quiet now. Too quiet.
“Should I be worried?”
The voice was familiar, and for once, she was actually relieved to hear it.
She turned to find Fiyero standing at the edge of the field, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, watching her with his usual lazy amusement.
Glinda huffed, crossing her arms. “About what?”
He walked toward her, his footsteps slow, deliberate. “You, alone, staring dramatically at the sky like you’re in the opening scene of a tragic romance.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”
Fiyero stopped in front of her, tilting his head slightly. “You sure?”
Glinda sighed, glancing away. “Just a long day.”
Fiyero reached out, fingers lightly grazing her elbow. “You wanna talk about it?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she focused on the feel of his touch—warm, grounding. Something familiar in a day that had felt off-kilter.
Finally, she let out a breath. “I just need everything to be perfect on Friday.”
Fiyero smirked. “Ah, the legendary Glinda Upland Standards.”
She shot him a look. “It’s important.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. And you always pull it off, My love.”
“I just—ugh. Milla’s landing was off, Pfannee’s running her mouth, and I feel like I wasn’t completely locked in today.”
Fiyero stepped in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You were distracted.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”
His smirk softened into something unreadable. “You never lose focus. But today, you kept looking somewhere else.”
Glinda stiffened, her pulse kicking up a notch. “I was looking at the team.”
“Right.”
The way he said it made her stomach twist again—but this time, she wasn’t sure she liked it.
Before she could form a response, Fiyero’s hand slid from her elbow to her waist, pulling her in slightly. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you know.”
Glinda swallowed. “I know.”
“Do you?” His grip tightened just enough to make her feel it. “Because you always act like you’ve got something to prove.”
Her breath hitched. Maybe she did. Maybe she always had.
But she didn’t know how to explain it—not in a way he’d understand.
So instead, she closed the distance between them, letting his warmth wrap around her as she leaned in, letting his lips meet hers. It was familiar. Easy.
She ignored the part of herself that had expected something else.
Fiyero kissed her slow, his hands steady, his presence grounding. It should have made her feel better.
And maybe, for a moment, it did.
But when she pulled away, something in her chest still felt unsettled.
Fiyero ran a thumb along her cheek. “Better?”
Glinda forced a smile. “Yeah.”
But Fiyero wasn’t convinced. His hands, still resting lightly on her waist, tightened just a little, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against her hip. His gaze flickered over her face, searching for something unspoken.
And then, he kissed her again—deeper this time, more insistent.
Glinda responded automatically, letting herself melt into it. His grip firmed, pulling her body flush against his, the warmth of his touch spreading as his hands slid down to rest at the small of her back. It was easy. It had always been easy.
So why did it feel different now?
His lips moved against hers with practiced familiarity, coaxing, pressing. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, holding on—but not pulling him closer.
When his hands skimmed higher, tracing along her ribs, she felt it—that tiny flicker of hesitation in her chest, the whisper of a thought she didn’t want to acknowledge.
She let him deepen the kiss anyway, let him tilt his head to change the angle, let his hands wander just a little further—anything to chase away the nagging feeling that something was missing.
But when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, waiting for her to say something—anything—the words wouldn’t come.
She swallowed. “We should go.”
Fiyero studied her for a second longer before sighing, stepping back just enough to release her. “Yeah. Okay.”
The weight of his hands disappeared, and with it, the warmth she hadn’t realized she’d been relying on.
Glinda didn’t let herself think about why that bothered her so much.
It wasn’t a lie.
Not completely.
Chapter Text
Glinda’s alarm went off at precisely 6:00 AM, pulling her out of a restless sleep. She blinked against the early morning light spilling through her curtains, a dull ache settling in her muscles from the previous night’s practice. No time to dwell. Today had to be different.
The game was only two days away, and she refused to let anything—or anyone—distract her.
She sat up, rubbing her temples before reaching for her phone. A few notifications cluttered her screen, but one stood out among them.
Elphaba: When’s our next study session?
Glinda exhaled sharply, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Right. The project. She had meant to text Elphaba first, but between cheer, Fiyero, and the strange feeling still lingering in her chest, she had forgotten.
Glinda: Tomorrow after practice. I can’t do today.
She stared at the message for a second before hitting send.
No response came immediately, but she wasn’t expecting one. Elphaba didn’t strike her as the type to hover over her phone.
Shoving the covers back, she swung her legs out of bed and stretched, rolling her shoulders as she mentally ran through the day ahead. No distractions. No wasted energy. Just focus.
By the time she was dressed and downstairs, her mother was already halfway through her morning coffee, scrolling through her tablet at the kitchen table.
“Morning, Sweetie,” Larena Upland greeted without looking up.
Glinda smoothed down the front of her blazer. “Morning.”
Her mother finally glanced over, eyes flicking over her appearance. “You look tired.”
Glinda bit back a sigh. “It’s called working hard, Mother.”
Larena hummed, unimpressed. “Try not to look it. No one admires effort—they admire results.”
Glinda pressed her lips together but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed a protein bar from the counter and checked her phone again.
Still nothing from Elphaba.
She wasn’t sure why that annoyed her.
With a sharp exhale, she tucked her phone into her bag and headed out the door.
Elphaba had never been a morning person. It was a well-documented fact among anyone who knew her. She functioned purely on routine—waking up at the last possible second, throwing herself together in record time, and making it to school without a minute to spare.
Today was no different.
Except for the text waiting for her when she finally dragged herself out of bed.
Glinda: Tomorrow after practice. I can’t do today. I've gotta focus on getting ready for the game on Friday, that's more important.
Elphaba snorted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she typed back.
Elphaba: Obviously.
She didn’t expect a response, and none came. Not that she cared.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in her car, pulling into the school parking lot just as the first bell rang.
Another day. Another routine.
And for some reason, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was shifting.
The final bell rang, releasing the students of Crage Hall into the humid afternoon air. Some lingered in the halls, chatting by their lockers, while others rushed toward the parking lot, eager to escape. But for the athletes, the day was far from over.
Glinda barely spared a glance at the other students as she headed straight for the gym, her cheer bag slung over her shoulder. Practice had been extended today. Yesterday had been sloppy, and with the game on Friday, they didn’t have time to waste. Everything needed to be perfect.
She tightened her ponytail as she entered the locker room, already mentally running through the stunts they needed to drill. There was no room for mistakes.
Meanwhile, across campus, Elphaba was focused on something entirely different.
The first track meet of the season was on Saturday, and unlike the cheer team, her team wasn’t stressing over perfection—they were focused on endurance, precision, and speed.
She stood near the edge of the track, rolling out her calves, eyes trained ahead. The sun was starting to dip, casting a golden hue over the field. The usual pre-meet nerves buzzed low in her chest, but it wasn’t nerves that had her on edge today. It was something else. Something she couldn’t quite name.
“Elphie, you good?”
She glanced to her side to see Boq approaching, he was still in his school uniform, a folder of sheet music tucked under his arm.
She nodded. “Yeah. Just ready to run.”
Boq grinned. "Good. ‘Cause while you're out here torturing yourself, I get to suffer through another three-hour rehearsal."
She smirked slightly, shaking out her arms. "Remind me again why you didn’t pick a sport?"
And just like Glinda across campus, she locked in, pushing everything else aside.
Glinda wasn’t absorbing anything.
Her eyes skimmed over the words on the page, her pen tapping against the edge of her notebook, but her mind was elsewhere. The game was tomorrow. A few hours of studying wouldn’t make or break their grade, but a few missed steps on the field could cost her everything.
She bit her lip, shifting in her chair, her knee bouncing beneath the table. Across from her, Elphaba sighed, clearly having had enough.
“You’re not listening.”
Glinda blinked, snapping back to reality. “What?”
Elphaba raised a brow. “I just asked how you wanted to split the research sections. And you nodded. Which means you either weren’t listening or you don't care."
Glinda straightened, rolling her shoulders back. “I was listening.”
Elphaba just looked at her.
Glinda let out a breath, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Maybe I wasn’t.”
Elphaba set her pen down. “Because of the game?”
Glinda’s jaw tightened. “It’s important.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Elphaba tilted her head slightly. “That you’re acting like the fate of the world depends on it.”
Glinda’s fingers clenched around her pen. “You don’t get it.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, leaning back in her chair. “Then explain it to me.”
Glinda shook her head, pressing her lips together. She didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to put it into words, didn’t want to say out loud that if she wasn’t perfect, if she wasn’t the best, then what was the point? What was she worth?
When she didn’t respond, Elphaba watched her for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. Then, quietly, she said, “You know that doesn’t exist, right?”
Glinda swallowed. “What doesn’t?”
“Perfection.”
Glinda’s grip on her pen tightened. “Maybe not for you.”
Elphaba didn’t rise to the bait. She just looked at her, her sharp green eyes unwavering. “Not for anyone.”
The words settled between them, heavy and inescapable. Glinda wanted to fight it. Wanted to argue, to roll her eyes, to brush it off like she always did.
But she couldn’t.
Instead, she inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly as she looked away. “We should finish this.”
Elphaba watched her for a beat longer before speaking again, her voice softer than before. “You’re already good, Glinda. No game is gonna change that.”
Glinda’s breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by the statement. She stared at the words on the page, trying to ground herself in something factual, something tangible.
But the words didn’t mean anything. Not right now.
Her fingers curled against her notebook. “You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”
Elphaba hesitated for the first time that night. “I can’t.”
Glinda’s head snapped up. “Why not?”
Elphaba exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “My track meet is Saturday. I have late practice. I need the time.”
Glinda nodded slowly, pressing her lips together like she had expected the answer but still didn’t like it. “Oh. Right.”
Elphaba studied her, tapping her pen against the table. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Glinda scoffed lightly, shaking her head. “I didn’t ask for reassurance.”
Elphaba smirked. “Yeah, well. You got it anyway.”
Glinda huffed, rolling her eyes. But her shoulders had dropped slightly, the tension in her posture no longer as rigid.
They fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t as heavy.
And when they finally returned to their work, Glinda could at least breathe a little easier.
The stadium was packed. The roar of the crowd pulsed through the air, energy crackling like electricity. The massive floodlights illuminated the field, casting everything in a sharp, golden glow. It was game night, and Crage Hall’s student body was out in full force.
Glinda had been here a thousand times before, had performed under these same lights, had led these same cheers. But tonight felt heavier.
She stood at the front of the formation, pom-poms tight in her grip as the game played on behind them. She should’ve been locked in, should’ve been thriving off the energy. But her mind wouldn’t quiet.
Everything needed to be perfect.
The stunt sequence was coming up. Their hardest of the night. It had to be sharp, effortless, the kind of performance that made the crowd lose their minds.
“Positions!” she called, voice steady, masking everything else.
The squad moved in sync, lining up for the pyramid. Bases braced, flyers prepped, and Glinda’s heart pounded against her ribs.
One, two, three—
They went up.
And then, her foot slipped.
It wasn’t much—just a fraction of a misstep, the kind that would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t trained to see it. But she knew. The wobble, the brief shift in balance, the split-second where her heart clenched in panic.
She corrected herself instantly, forcing the smile, keeping the routine going as if nothing had happened.
The crowd cheered like nothing was wrong. Like it had been perfect.
But she knew.
And that was enough.
The game continued. Glinda went through the motions, smiles on cue, cheers sharp and practiced. She looked flawless. But her thoughts were spinning, twisting, looping around that single moment of imperfection.
The final whistle blew. The team won. It didn’t feel like a victory.
The locker room was loud. The energy of a win always carried over, teammates laughing, music blasting from someone’s speaker, everyone riding the high.
Glinda sat at her locker, fingers curled loosely around her phone. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by a hollow exhaustion.
She should be happy.
She should be celebrating.
Instead, she opened her messages and stared at Elphaba’s contact.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard before she typed, You were right. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close. Good luck tomorrow.
She stared at the words, debating for longer than she’d ever admit. Would Elphaba even care? Would she even respond?
Glinda exhaled sharply and deleted the message.
Instead, she tossed her phone into her bag and forced a smile as Pfannee called her name, pretending like tonight wasn’t sitting heavy on her chest.
Like it didn’t matter.
Chapter Text
The track was alive with energy, a mix of tense concentration and the buzz of spectators. It was meet day.
Elphaba stood at the starting line, one foot digging into the rubber, her hands shaking out the nervous energy in her limbs. The stadium lights glared down, but she barely noticed them. She needed to focus.
This wasn’t like cheer, where perfection had to be performed. This wasn’t about smiling at the crowd or faking confidence. This was about results.
She crouched into position, muscles coiled, ready to explode forward.
The gun fired.
Elphaba launched off the blocks, feet pounding against the track, air burning in her lungs. The world narrowed down to momentum and speed.
Nothing else.
She placed first.
For the first time.
The moment she crossed the finish line, her chest heaving, her legs aching, it hit her. Not the adrenaline rush she was expecting, not the instant satisfaction—just shock.
She had won. She had actually won.
The team cheered, the sound blending into the chaotic noise of the stadium. Crope and Tibbett practically tackled her, both shouting in her ears.
“Elphaba Thropp, ladies and gentlemen!” Crope cackled, shaking her shoulders.
Tibbett beamed. “What’s it like being Crage Hall’s fastest student?”
Elphaba huffed out a breath, barely steadying herself as she pried them off. “Don’t jinx it.”
Boq approached with a grin, hands shoved in his pockets. “Nah, this was it. You killed it.”
Elphaba rolled her shoulders, still coming down from the high. “Yeah, well. One good race doesn’t mean anything.”
“Tell that to the scoreboard.” Crope nudged her. “You just outran every girl in this district.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, glancing around the stadium, at the crowds still buzzing, at the flashes of school colors in the stands.
She had actually done it.
She glanced toward the stands instead, her eyes scanning the crowd almost on instinct. That’s when she spotted Pfannee, perched on the bleachers, scrolling through her phone with the kind of disinterest that suggested she’d been dragged here.
Elphaba frowned. Pfannee was here?
Which meant… what? Glinda might be here too?
Her stomach twisted before she could stop it, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her bag. She wasn’t looking for Glinda. That would be ridiculous. Why would she even care?
Still, she hesitated for half a second longer than she should have before shaking her head and pulling out her phone for the first time that day, thumb hovering over the screen. Notifications flooded in—team updates, a congratulations from her coach, a few track messages.
And, of course, nothing from Glinda. Not that she had expected anything.
She didn’t know why she checked.
Boq slung an arm over her shoulder, smirking. “I wonder why Pfannee is here without her queen bee.”
Elphaba scoffed, locking her phone. “Like I care.”
Crope and Tibbett exchanged a look.
“Uh-huh,” Tibbett drawled. “You definitely don’t care.”
Elphaba ignored them, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Are we eating or what?”
Crope looped his arm through hers dramatically. “Only if you let me tell the waitress you’re a champion.”
Tibbett snickered. Boq just shook his head, trailing behind as they headed toward the parking lot.
And Elphaba didn’t check her phone again.
The house was packed. Victory parties at Avaric’s were always excessive, but tonight felt even more chaotic than usual. The music pulsed through the walls, the scent of spilled drinks and cheap cologne thick in the air.
Glinda had been here a hundred times before. She knew the drill. Laugh, celebrate, let the attention wrap around her like a familiar warmth.
But something felt off.
She stood near the kitchen, an untouched drink in her hand, smiling at the right moments as Pfannee chattered beside her. The post-game high had faded quickly, leaving behind a restless energy she didn’t know what to do with.
“Glinda, come on.” Fiyero’s voice cut through the noise, his hand sliding around her waist. “We won. You should be having fun.”
“I am,” she said automatically, forcing a brighter smile.
His eyes flicked over her, unreadable for a second before he tugged her closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Prove it.”
Her stomach flipped, not from excitement, but because she knew this was expected.
Still, she let him lead her away from the crowd, past the clusters of students and up the stairs to one of the empty bedrooms. The second the door shut behind them, Fiyero’s lips were on hers, insistent and familiar. She kissed him back without thinking.
His hands skimmed down her sides, fingers pressing into her waist as he backed her up against the bed. It should have been effortless. This was Fiyero. Her boyfriend. This was what they did.
So why did it feel like she was going through the motions?
She let him push her onto the mattress, his weight pressing her down as his lips trailed to her neck. She exhaled sharply, tilting her head to give him access. It should have felt good. It should have felt easy.
“Glinda,” he murmured, voice thick with want. His hands slid beneath the hem of her top, fingers tracing her bare skin.
She bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut. If she just focused, maybe she could shake whatever this was. Maybe she could lose herself in it.
Then, for a split second, her mind betrayed her.
A flash of something—green skin, sharp eyes, a dry remark that always got under her skin.
Her stomach twisted.
She inhaled sharply and pushed at Fiyero’s chest. “Wait.”
He pulled back, blinking down at her. “What?”
Glinda swallowed, her pulse hammering for all the wrong reasons. She had to fix this. “I—I just need a second.”
Fiyero searched her face, something flickering in his expression before he nodded, shifting to sit beside her instead of over her. “You okay?”
She nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just—long day.”
He watched her for a moment longer before exhaling and leaning back on his elbows. “You know, if you wanted to stop playing perfect for once, I wouldn’t mind.”
Glinda’s throat tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Fiyero shrugged, his gaze knowing. “You’re always thinking. Even now.”
She forced a laugh. “What, you want me to turn my brain off?”
He smirked. “Might be fun.”
She rolled her eyes, but the teasing didn’t land the way it usually did. Because he was right.
Her mind wouldn’t stop. Not about the game. Not about tonight. Not about what had just happened.
Not about why, for even a second, Elphaba Thropp had crossed her mind.
Glinda sat curled up in one of the oversized chairs in Pfannee’s room, the familiar scent of expensive perfume and hair products lingering in the air. A candle flickered on the vanity, casting a soft glow over the mess of makeup palettes and discarded jewelry from earlier in the night.
Pfannee lounged on her bed, scrolling through her phone while Shenshen painted her nails a glossy shade of pink. The music hummed low in the background, a pop song Glinda normally would’ve been singing along to.
Tonight, she just listened.
“I had to sit through the dumbest track meet this morning,” Pfannee groaned suddenly, tossing her phone onto the comforter. “My dad made me go—networking or whatever.”
Shenshen wrinkled her nose. “Sounds awful.”
Pfannee smirked. “Oh, it was. But guess who actually won something?”
Glinda already knew the answer before Pfannee said it.
“Elphaba,” Pfannee continued, rolling onto her stomach dramatically. “Can you believe that? The school freak, actually being good at something.”
Shenshen snorted, not looking up from her brushstrokes. “Maybe now she’ll actually wash her hair.”
Glinda felt the laugh bubble up automatically, the same way it always had. This was normal. This was just how things went.
Except it didn’t feel normal. Not tonight.
“She looked ridiculous standing up there,” Pfannee went on, tapping at her nails. “Like she had no clue what to do with herself.”
Glinda thought about Elphaba on that podium, about how she hadn’t looked smug or triumphant—just steady. Focused. Real.
Pfannee nudged Glinda’s leg with her foot. “You’re quiet. Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for her.”
Glinda blinked, snapping back. “What? No.”
Pfannee smirked, tilting her head. “Good. I was starting to think the school’s biggest charity case had actually gotten to you.”
Glinda forced a laugh, though it felt wrong in her throat. Had she?
She didn’t know why this was bothering her so much. It wasn’t like she and Elphaba were friends. But something had shifted, and she didn’t know how to shift it back.
So she just smiled, like she always did, and let the conversation move on.
The house smelled like fresh coffee and expensive perfume, the telltale signs of an Upland family brunch. Glinda sat at the dining table, perfectly poised as her mother sipped at her cappuccino, flipping lazily through a magazine. Her father scrolled through his tablet, barely looking up as the house staff set out the morning spread.
“I saw the game highlights,” Larena Upland mused, stirring her drink. “You looked lovely, darling. It’s such a shame cheerleading doesn’t get real recognition.”
Glinda kept her smile polite. “It’s more work than it looks.”
Her mother hummed, unconvinced. “Well, at least it’s keeping you active. You know how important that is.”
Her father finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. “You’re maintaining your grades?”
“Yes, Popsicle.”
He nodded, already distracted again. Conversation over.
Glinda took small bites of her fruit, letting her parents fall into their usual morning discussions. Her mind, however, was somewhere else.
She scrolled through her phone absently, pausing when a photo from the track meet crossed her screen. It wasn’t from anyone she followed—probably one of the sports accounts—but she still recognized the green streak in the background.
Elphaba. Standing on the podium, her face unreadable.
Glinda’s thumb hovered over the post for half a second longer than necessary before she quickly kept scrolling.
Later that afternoon, Glinda sat in the driver’s seat of her car, parked in her usual quiet spot overlooking the lake just outside town. The engine was still running.
She didn’t remember how long she had been sitting there.
Her notebook was open on the passenger seat, half-filled with lines of poetry she wasn’t ready to admit were hers. The words blurred together as she stared out at the water, tapping her pen against her knee.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of it.
Fiyero.
She ignored it.
Instead, she pulled up a different contact.
Glinda: We should plan our next study session.
Glinda: I promise I’ll actually focus this time.
She hit send before she could overthink it.
Then she shut her notebook and drove home.
The school parking lot was already full of movement—students filtering toward the entrance, the sound of engines shutting off, conversations picking up where they had left off on Friday.
Glinda stepped out of Fiyero’s car, adjusting the strap of her bag as she smoothed a hand down her skirt. The morning should have felt normal. It should have been easy—just another Monday, another week of routines.
Instead, she felt off.
“Goldie,” Pfannee called, linking arms with her as they made their way toward the entrance. “Tell me you’re actually awake today.”
Shenshen smirked. “Doubtful. She looked wrecked at the party.”
Glinda rolled her eyes, forcing a smile. “I was fine.”
Pfannee hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mm. Well, at least we get a drama-free day after that mess.”
“Drama-free?” Shenshen scoffed. “In this school?”
Pfannee laughed, but Glinda barely heard them. Her mind was somewhere else.
She pulled out her phone instead, unlocking it with muscle memory. Unread message.
Elphaba: What a relief. I was afraid you’d just stare at your notes dramatically again.
Elphaba: Name the time. I’ll be there.
Glinda bit her lip, caught between amusement and something else she didn’t have the energy to name.
“You’re distracted,” Fiyero noted, nudging her lightly. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Glinda answered, pocketing her phone. “Just thinking about the game.”
Pfannee grinned. “As you should. You were perfect.”
Glinda didn’t respond. She just kept walking, wondering why she suddenly wanted this conversation to be over.
Glinda was only half-listening as Pfannee, Milla, and Shenshen chattered beside her, their voices blending into the morning chaos of the hallway. Students were still filtering into their classrooms, groups lingering by lockers, laughter and conversation filling the space.
“Did you see what she did with her hair today?” Pfannee drawled, eyes flicking toward a passing student. “Oz, she’s so tragic.”
Shenshen snickered. “I swear, she does it on purpose.”
Glinda wasn’t paying attention, at least not until the shift in tone—a more familiar kind of ridicule.
“Speaking of tragic,” Pfannee continued, lowering her voice just slightly, “did you see her?”
Glinda followed her gaze before she could think better of it.
Elphaba.
She was walking ahead of them, earbuds in, posture stiff but purposeful—like she could feel the eyes on her but refused to acknowledge them. Like she was used to it.
“She really thinks she’s something now,” Milla scoffed. “Like, we get it, you can run fast. Doesn’t make you less of a freak.”
Pfannee smirked. “I dunno, maybe she’s hoping someone will finally notice her.”
Glinda felt it immediately—the irritation, sharp and unwelcome.
She had laughed at jokes like this before. She had made jokes like this before.
But now, something about it felt off.
She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. “Don’t you ever get tired of this?”
Pfannee blinked. “Tired of what?”
Glinda rolled her shoulders. “Making fun of people all day.”
There was a beat of silence before Shenshen scoffed. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Milla's eyes narrowed slightly. “Since when do you care?”
Glinda bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know.
It wasn’t like she and Elphaba were friends. And yet, the way she carried herself, the way she never reacted to their words—it suddenly felt pathetic to be on the other side of it.
“Forget it,” Glinda muttered, brushing past them.
Pfannee called after her, but Glinda didn’t stop.
The conversation moved on, but Glinda’s mind didn’t
Glinda barely made it through her morning classes, her mind still tangled in the lingering tension from her earlier conversation with her friends.
By the time she made her way through the crowded hallway between periods, she wasn’t really watching where she was going—until she nearly collided with someone turning the same corner.
Elphaba.
They both stopped abruptly, inches apart. Glinda’s fingers instinctively tightened around the strap of her bag, while Elphaba, ever composed, merely raised an eyebrow.
“Hi,” Glinda said, too quick, too stiff.
Elphaba tilted her head slightly. “Hi.”
Silence settled between them, too thick for such a simple interaction. Neither of them moved.
Glinda cleared her throat, shifting her weight. “I- is it okay if we study after practice tomorrow? I've got a thing, before practice.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, adjusting the books in her arms. “Yeah. After practice tomorrow, that works."
Glinda nodded automatically, not even thinking before she said, “The library won't be open for much longer after practice, would you be okay with studying at my place?”
Elphaba blinked, as if mildly surprised, but didn’t argue. “Alright.”
Glinda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Why was this so weird?
Before she could figure that out, the bell rang, and Elphaba shifted her books under one arm. “See you later, Blondie.”
Glinda didn’t respond—she just stood there, pulse skipping in ways she really didn’t want to think about.
Elphaba wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation at her table—not that she ever fully did. Crope and Tibbett were caught up in some dramatic retelling of a hallway encounter, Boq was scrolling through his phone, and Elphaba was just there. Eating, listening, but mostly letting the noise wash over her.
At least, until Crope nudged her foot under the table.
“What?” she asked flatly, not even looking up from her tray.
“You’re acting weird,” Tibbett said, pointing his fork at her. “And before you say it, no, weirder than usual.”
Elphaba arched a brow. “That’s specific.”
Crope smirked. “You had a moment in the hallway earlier.”
Elphaba sighed, setting down her drink. “We had a conversation. That’s hardly a moment.”
Boq finally glanced up, looking between them. “With who?”
Tibbett grinned. “Who do you think?”
Boq made a face. “Glinda?”
Elphaba didn’t react. Which, apparently, was an answer in itself.
“Oh,” Crope laughed. “You so did.”
“She asked about our project,” Elphaba said, leaning back in her chair. “It was nothing.”
Crope and Tibbett exchanged a look.
Boq, however, was watching her a little too closely. “You don’t talk to people, Elphaba. Especially not her.”
“She’s my partner,” Elphaba said evenly. “We have to talk.”
“Right, right,” Tibbett nodded. “And you just have to keep looking over at her table, too?”
Elphaba stilled.
She hadn’t realized she’d done it—hadn’t even thought about it—but sure enough, across the cafeteria, Glinda was sitting with her usual crowd.
And the second their eyes met, Glinda looked away. Fast.
Elphaba inhaled through her nose, picking up her drink again. “You’re all annoying.”
Crope rested his chin in his hand. “You know, Tibbs and I can always tell when someone’s queer.”
Elphaba nearly choked. “Excuse me?”
Boq groaned. “Crope, don’t.”
“No, do tell me,” Elphaba deadpanned, setting her drink back down. “Because I’d love to hear what ridiculous theory you two have cooked up about me.”
Tibbett smirked. “I just know, It’s a gift.”
Crope nodded, a wicked smile on his face. "It takes one to know one."
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “Fantastic. So glad you’ve solved my entire existence for me.”
Crope wiggled his fingers. “We just know, babe.”
Elphaba opened her mouth, but nothing came out right away. Because what was she supposed to say? That she’d never really thought about it? That she had thought about it, but only in flashes, in ways she always shoved aside?
She wasn’t clueless. She knew attraction, she knew what it looked like on other people. But when it came to herself—
She cut the thought off, exhaling sharply. “You’re both idiots.”
Crope grinned. “Deflecting. Interesting.”
Boq shook his head, clearly deciding to stay out of it. “Leave her alone, guys.”
“Fine, fine.” Tibbett held up his hands. “Just saying—our track record’s pretty solid.”
Elphaba didn’t dignify that with a response. She just picked up her drink again, focusing on not looking in Glinda’s direction
Elphaba sat in the back of her afternoon class, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the board—but she wasn’t actually seeing anything. She was too busy being annoyed.
Not at Crope and Tibbett for teasing her—she was used to that. Not even at Boq for looking at her like she’d grown a second head when they mentioned Glinda. No, she was annoyed at herself.
Annoyed because she’d looked. Because she kept looking. Because when she locked eyes with Glinda for that fraction of a second, she should have felt nothing. Should have.
She exhaled sharply through her nose, adjusting the grip on her pen. This was stupid.
“Miss Thropp,” the teacher’s voice cut in.
Elphaba blinked. Shit. “What?”
A few students snickered. The teacher sighed, clearly unimpressed. “If you could pull yourself away from whatever existential crisis you’re having, perhaps you’d like to answer the question?”
Crope, sitting a few seats away, smirked. Elphaba ignored him, straightening in her chair. “I’d love to, but I wasn’t listening.”
More laughter.
The teacher sighed again but moved on. Elphaba didn’t care. She just needed to get through the rest of the day without thinking about Glinda Upland.
A nearly impossible task, apparently, because when she glanced up again, Glinda was looking at her.
This time, she didn’t look away.
Chapter Text
Glinda drove home with the top down, the wind tugging at her curls as she maneuvered through the familiar roads. The drive was muscle memory, but her thoughts were everywhere. The day had left a strange weight in her chest—small things she couldn’t name but couldn’t shake. The moment at lunch. The look in Elphaba’s eyes. The fact that Glinda hadn’t wanted to look away.
She pulled into the long, pristine driveway of her family’s estate, the golden light of early evening making everything seem almost surreal. She parked, lingered in the driver’s seat a moment too long, then finally exhaled and grabbed her bag.
Inside, the house was spotless, curated, a picture of perfection. Dinner was already being prepared, the smell of something decadent filling the air. Her mother was somewhere in the house, probably on a call, while her father remained absent as ever.
Glinda climbed the grand staircase to her room, kicking off her shoes as she went. She turned on her vanity lights, sat down, and stared at her reflection. Her phone buzzed—a message from Fiyero. She ignored it, reaching instead for her hairbrush, slowly working through the tangles the wind had left behind. She needed to focus. She needed to be herself again.
Elphaba’s drive home was just as familiar, but the scenery was different. She maneuvered through the quiet roads leading toward Thropp Manor, the grand estate that had housed her family’s political dynasty for generations. The sun cast long shadows across the manicured gardens as she pulled into the stone-paved driveway, her car sliding into its usual spot in the long driveway, lined with a fleet of other meticulously maintained vehicles.
Inside, the house was too large, too cold, too structured. The hallways were lined with portraits of past governors and dignitaries, her family’s legacy displayed in thick gilded frames. A reminder of what she was supposed to uphold.
She passed the formal dining room, where dinner was already being served. Frex was seated at the head of the table, discussing policy with three guests she didn’t recognize. He didn’t acknowledge her, and she didn’t expect him to.
Elphaba climbed the long staircase to her wing of the house. The second she reached her room, she exhaled, shutting the door behind her. Here, at least, she could exist without expectation.
She swapped her uniform for sweatpants and a loose-fitting tee, pulling the ties from her braids and running oil through them with careful, practiced ease. The motions were mechanical, something to focus on. Something to keep her mind from wandering where it shouldn’t.
Her phone buzzed once on the nightstand—a message from Boq. She ignored it.
Then, without thinking, she glanced toward the window.
It was stupid, pointless. Like she expected to see something there.
She sighed, flopping onto the bed, one arm draped over her eyes. She needed to get it together.
The school day had passed in a blur, each class dragging in a way that felt painfully slow. Neither of them had acknowledged it, but both had felt the weight of something—an odd, lingering nervousness that neither could place.
By the time the final bell rang, they had gone their separate ways—Glinda to cheer practice, Elphaba to track. It was exhausting, the push to be perfect, the demand for every move to be right, every second to be faster. By the end of it, they were both drained.
Still, they’d both gone home, cleaned up, changed, and stuck to their plan.
Now, standing at Glinda’s front door, Elphaba exhaled sharply before knocking. This shouldn’t have felt strange—but it did.
Glinda answered quickly, dressed in soft lounge clothes, hair still damp from her post-practice shower. She looked tired—but in a way that somehow suited her.
“You look exhausted,” Elphaba noted flatly.
Glinda scoffed. “And you look like you regret knocking.”
Elphaba smirked, shifting her weight. “I do.”
Glinda rolled her eyes but stepped aside, letting her in. The house was just as pristine as Elphaba had imagined it would be—too perfect, too curated.
They made their way toward a quieter sitting room, where textbooks were already laid out on the table. The tension was still there, hanging somewhere between them, but neither of them acknowledged it. Not yet.
Glinda flopped onto the couch first, stretching out with an exaggerated sigh. “If you expect me to actually function after today, you’re out of luck.”
Elphaba sat down, flipping open a book. “Then this’ll be fun.”
Glinda smirked but didn’t argue. She stretched once more before sitting up. "Wait here." Without explaining, she disappeared into the hallway, leaving Elphaba blinking after her.
A minute later, she returned with a small tray—two glasses of water, a bowl of grapes, and a plate of cookies that looked almost too perfect to be store-bought.
Elphaba arched a brow as Glinda set the tray down between them. "You expecting company?"
Glinda rolled her eyes, picking up a cookie and taking a dramatic bite. "I’m being hospitable."
Elphaba huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head, but she did take a grape. "Shocking."
Glinda leaned back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. "If I start snoring, just throw a book at me."
Elphaba smirked. "Noted."
A beat of silence stretched between them, comfortable in a way that still felt strange. Glinda shifted slightly, eyes flickering to the textbook in front of her before she exhaled, tracing the rim of her glass with a fingertip.
"Hey," she said softly, hesitant in a way Elphaba wasn’t used to. "I—um. I just wanted to say—I know I haven’t always been… the nicest person."
Elphaba blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. "Okay?"
Glinda sighed, pulling her knees up onto the couch. "I— I said things. Snide things. I laughed when Pfannee and them made jokes. I talked about you when I shouldn’t have." She looked down at her hands, then back up. "And I’m sorry for that."
Elphaba studied her for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind her sharp gaze. She had never thought of Glinda as cruel. Thoughtless, maybe. Wrapped up in her world of golden perfection, too comfortable to challenge the people around her. But not cruel. Still, hearing the apology now—quiet, genuine—it sat strangely in Elphaba’s chest. Then, with a slow exhale, she leaned back against the couch. "Well, you weren’t the worst. But thanks, I guess."
Glinda rolled her eyes but smiled softly. "High praise."
Elphaba smirked. "I try."
Glinda exhaled, then straightened her back, reaching for her notebook. "Alright, we should probably get some actual work done before I completely lose the ability to function."
Elphaba arched a brow but flipped open her textbook. "You mean before you start trying to convince me to do all the work?"
Glinda huffed. "I’m contributing."
"Oh?"
Glinda shot her a look before flipping a few pages. "Okay, so I was thinking—if we focus on the ethical dilemmas in Ozian history, we could narrow it down to—"
"The Animal rights movement?" Elphaba interjected, tapping her pencil against her notebook. "It’s relevant and there’s enough material to break down different perspectives."
Glinda nodded, chewing on her lip. "Yes, and we could analyze how Pertha’s portrayal changed over time—what parts of her story were lost or rewritten to fit a certain narrative. She was seen as a radical at the time, but in reality, she was just ahead of the curve."
Elphaba tilted her head slightly. "That’s… actually solid. If we can find primary sources that contradict modern accounts, we can show exactly how history reshaped Pertha’s legacy—whether it was to diminish her impact or twist her into something she wasn’t."
Glinda beamed. "I do have thoughts, you know."
"Debatable."
Glinda swatted at her arm, but Elphaba just smirked, jotting down notes as they finally settled into the project, the tension between them shifting into something more productive. They worked in comfortable silence for a while, notes filling the pages between them. The exhaustion from the day still lingered, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was steady, easy, a rhythm they somehow fell into without realizing.
Glinda glanced at Elphaba out of the corner of her eye, watching the way she tapped the end of her pen against her notebook when she was thinking. She’d always assumed Elphaba was just… harsh. Distant. But now, sitting across from her, seeing her focused, engaged, not completely insufferable, it struck her how wrong she’d been.
Elphaba wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t cold. She just didn’t waste words the way Glinda and the others did.
Across the table, Elphaba sighed, pushing her notes aside. "Alright. I think that’s as much as my brain can take tonight."
Glinda smirked. "I didn’t know you had a limit."
Elphaba rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she stretched, arms over her head, and for a second, Glinda caught herself staring. She wasn’t nearly as unbearable as Glinda had convinced herself she was.
"I’ll clean this up," Glinda offered, standing and stacking their books.
Elphaba hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks."
They lingered for a second too long, an odd weight hanging between them. Not uncomfortable. Just… different.
As Elphaba gathered her things, she caught herself thinking something she hadn’t expected:
Maybe Glinda Upland wasn’t as awful as she’d thought.
Chapter Text
Glinda woke up to the sound of her ama knocking softly at her door. She rolled over, the golden morning light filtering in through her windows, making her room feel warmer than it actually was.
“You’re going to be late, Duckie,” Ama called gently.
Glinda groaned, rubbing her eyes as the previous night came back to her. The study session. Elphaba. How oddly… easy it had felt. How not awful it had been. She blinked up at the ceiling, confused by the way her chest felt strangely unsettled.
She got ready on autopilot, barely registering the conversation her mother was having on the phone downstairs as she passed through the house. By the time she got into her car, her phone buzzed. Fiyero.
Fiyero: Picking you up today?
She hesitated before responding.
Glinda: I’m already on my way.
She wasn’t sure why she felt guilty about it.
Elphaba’s morning was quiet, but not in a peaceful way.
She sat at the breakfast table, absentmindedly flipping through a book while Shell stirred way too much sugar into his tea. He wasn’t subtle about watching her.
“What?” Elphaba finally asked, looking up.
Shell shrugged. “You’re being weird.”
Elphaba sighed. “Fantastic observation.”
Shell smirked but didn’t push further. She appreciated that about him—he noticed things but didn’t always need an explanation.
By the time she pulled into the school parking lot, she’d convinced herself she wasn’t thinking about the study session anymore.
That lasted exactly until she saw Glinda.
They saw each other between classes, just for a second. It should have been the same as any other day, except it wasn’t.
Glinda glanced up at her, hesitated.
Elphaba saw the pause, the way Glinda’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
“Morning,” Glinda said before she could think about it.
Elphaba blinked. Glinda had never greeted her before.
“Morning,” she returned, cautious.
It was quick. Barely noticeable. But someone noticed.
“Since when do you talk to the Wicked Witch?” Pfannee’s voice was sharp, teasing but also curious.
Glinda tensed as she sat down at the lunch table, feeling the weight of multiple gazes on her.
Shenshen raised a brow. “You’re not about to have a charity case moment, are you?”
Glinda forced a scoff. “Oh, please. I bumped into her. I was being polite.”
Milla smirked. “Right. Because you’re so polite usually.”
Glinda rolled her eyes, reaching for her drink. She ignored how Fiyero was watching her a little too closely. Like he noticed something was off.
“She talked to you?” Tibbett asked, nearly dropping his fork.
Elphaba exhaled through her nose. “It was a greeting, not a confession of undying love.”
Crope, ever dramatic, clutched his chest. “But still! The Golden Girl acknowledged you? My, how the tables have turned.”
Boq frowned. “What happened at the study session?”
Elphaba shrugged, keeping her expression unreadable. “We studied.”
Boq still looked skeptical, but he didn’t push it. Crope and Tibbett, on the other hand, exchanged a look that made Elphaba want to throw her drink at them.
She resisted.
“You know, she’s probably just doing that thing where she takes in strays,” Shenshen mused, swirling her coffee. “She’ll get bored and move on.”
Glinda set her fork down carefully. She had never cared about comments like this before. So why did this one feel different?
Pfannee noticed her hesitation. “Oh, Oz. Don’t tell me you're friends now?”
Glinda forced a laugh. “Please.”
But something in her stomach twisted.
Across the cafeteria, Crope smirked at Elphaba. “You know, she was looking at you earlier.”
Elphaba didn’t look up from her tray. “No, she wasn’t.”
Tibbett hummed. “I don’t know… seemed like a moment.”
Elphaba stabbed at her food. She refused to look.
Elphaba wasn’t in the mood to be perceived. She had spent all day dodging looks—some pointed, some barely-there, but all of them suffocating in their own way. And all because Glinda Upland had said good morning.
Ridiculous.
She had slipped out of the cafeteria early, needing a moment to herself. She stood by the vending machines, fingers idly pressing buttons but making no selections. She wasn’t hungry—she was restless.
The problem was, her thoughts kept circling back. The study session had been fine. Normal. So why was she thinking about it?
Before she could spiral further, Crope and Tibbett sidled up beside her. “So,” Crope said, voice dripping with amusement. “How’s your favorite study buddy?”
Elphaba sighed. “Not this again.”
Tibbett grinned. “It’s just—you’re acting different. Less grumbly. Less I-hate-everyone-and-want-them-to-die.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “You both need hobbies.”
Crope leaned against the vending machine, studying her. “You know, you’re usually so quick to deny things, but you haven’t said no yet.”
Elphaba opened her mouth, ready to shut them down, but… nothing came out. Because, for the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. Oh. Oh, Oz.
Tibbett caught the shift immediately, his grin widening. “Oh, you like her.”
Elphaba stiffened, her pulse jumping. Do I?
She replayed the night before—Glinda’s hair still damp from her shower, the way she had stretched out across the couch, completely at ease. How she had apologized, how she had looked at Elphaba like she was someone worth knowing.
She swallowed hard. Oh, shit.
“I think…” Elphaba inhaled sharply, pressing her palms against the vending machine. “I think I might have a crush on Glinda.”
Silence.
Then—Crope let out a delighted gasp, smacking Tibbett’s arm. “She said it.”
Tibbett looked downright giddy. “Oh, babe, this is so much better than we expected.”
Elphaba groaned, dropping her head against the machine. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
Tibbett patted her shoulder sympathetically, though his grin betrayed any real concern. "Absolutely. But don't worry, we'll be here to witness all of it."
Crope looped an arm through hers, dragging her away from the vending machine. "Now, let’s go before you start brooding so hard the lights flicker."
Elphaba allowed herself to be led, rolling her eyes but unable to shake the tiny, gnawing realization settling into her chest. She liked Glinda.
And there was no coming back from that.
Chapter Text
Elphaba had one goal for the rest of the day: avoid Glinda Upland at all costs.
Unfortunately, that was proving impossible.
She spotted Glinda at her locker between classes and immediately ducked into the nearest hallway, nearly running over a first-year. She ignored Crope’s knowing smirk when he saw her flinch away at lunch. And when she had to walk past Glinda on the way to history, she suddenly found the floor very interesting.
None of this went unnoticed.
Glinda frowned as she watched Elphaba all but flee from her for the third time that day.
Was she imagining it? Or was Elphaba actually avoiding her?
She tried not to care. She really did. But there was something unsettling about it. After the study session, she had—
Well, she wouldn’t say she was looking forward to seeing Elphaba today, but it hadn’t been something to dread. And yet, here they were.
By the time their next class ended, she had had enough.
Glinda wasn’t one for confrontation, but this wasn’t just something she could ignore. When she saw Elphaba slip out of the classroom, she acted without thinking, moving abruptly.
Fiyero raised a brow. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” she said quickly, already walking away.
She caught up with Elphaba near the lockers, stepping into her path before she could disappear into the next classroom.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Elphaba blinked, stepping back instinctively. “No, I’m not.”
Glinda scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, please. You practically jumped away from me earlier.”
Elphaba exhaled, looking everywhere but at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Glinda tilted her head. “Did I… do something?”
That caught Elphaba off guard, and she finally looked at Glinda, her expression shifting for just a second. Oh, Oz. She looked like she actually cared.
“No,” Elphaba said quickly, maybe too quickly. “You didn’t.”
Glinda frowned, searching her face. "Then why are you acting so weird?"
Elphaba opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Because I just realized I have a ridiculous crush on you, and I have no idea how to deal with it.
But obviously, she couldn’t say that. Elphaba huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. "Why do you care? It's not like we talk at school anyway.” she muttered instead, stepping around her and walking off before Glinda could push further.
Glinda stood frozen for a beat, watching Elphaba walk away. A dozen retorts came to mind—snippy, sharp, anything to regain control of the moment—but none of them made it past her lips.
Because the truth was, she did care. And she didn’t know why.
Her fingers clenched at her sides, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “Well, excuse me for noticing,” she muttered under her breath, barely loud enough for herself to hear. Then, with an exasperated huff, she spun on her heel and marched off, ignoring the way her heart was beating just a little too fast.
By the time Glinda got back to her seat in their next class, Pfannee and Shenshen were already waiting, smirking like they had just witnessed something scandalous.
“That looked interesting,” Pfannee mused, swirling her drink. “Trouble in paradise?”
Glinda rolled her eyes, sitting down. “She’s just being weird.”
Shenshen arched a brow. “And you care because…?”
“I don’t,” Glinda said quickly. Too quickly.
Pfannee and Shenshen exchanged a look, but before they could say anything else, Fiyero leaned in. “You really don’t?”
Glinda faltered. She shouldn’t care.
So why did she?
Glinda threw herself into practice with a level of intensity that even her teammates seemed to notice. Every move, every motion had to be perfect. She couldn't afford distractions—not the game, not her technique, and definitely not Elphaba Thropp.
Yet, every time she landed a tumbling pass, every time she lifted into a stunt, her mind would drift, and she’d lose focus for just a second. It wasn’t like her.
She was annoyed. Annoyed at herself, at Elphaba, at how stupid this all felt.
By the time practice wrapped up, she was still keyed up, wiping sweat from her brow as the other girls gathered their things. Her phone buzzed just as she reached for her bag.
Elphaba: Still planning to work on the project tomorrow?
Glinda blinked. Since when did Elphaba text first?
She didn’t know why it sent a small thrill through her, but it did. She ignored it for a moment, refusing to indulge in whatever was making her feel this way.
Meanwhile, across the field, Elphaba was just as restless. Track practice had been brutal, mostly because she made it that way. She pushed herself harder, ran faster, tried to outrun her own thoughts.
It didn’t work.
She had been checking her phone more than usual, waiting for some kind of response. She told herself she didn’t care, that the message had been about the project and nothing more. But the longer Glinda left her on read, the more irritated she felt.
By the time she left the locker room, the sky was darkening, and most of the campus had emptied. She just wanted to get to her car and go home.
She rounded the corner near the parking lot—only to nearly collide with Glinda.
Glinda yelped, stepping back as Elphaba caught herself. They both froze, staring at each other like neither had expected this moment to happen.
“Seriously?” Elphaba muttered, exasperated. “I can’t escape you anywhere today.”
Glinda crossed her arms. “Oh, I’m the problem now?”
Elphaba sighed, dragging a hand through her damp braids. She was too tired for this, too wound up. “Did you even see my text?”
Glinda pursed her lips, then pulled out her phone. Read. Not responded.
“Oh. That was you?” she said airily, tilting her head.
Elphaba scoffed. “Unbelievable.”
Glinda smirked. “Relax, Thropp. I was going to answer.”
Elphaba folded her arms. “So answer.”
Glinda hesitated—just a second too long. Because this moment felt like something else.
“…Yeah,” she said finally. “Tomorrow still works.”
Something flickered in Elphaba’s eyes, something unreadable, and it made Glinda’s stomach twist in a way she didn’t like.
She wasn’t sure why she added, “Unless you don’t want to.”
Elphaba held her gaze. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
The air between them shifted, tense but not hostile. Something… charged.
Glinda cleared her throat, looking away. “Good. Then it’s settled.”
“Good,” Elphaba echoed, though there was something almost amused in her voice now.
Neither of them moved.
Then Glinda huffed, shaking her head as she finally stepped past her, heading toward her car. She ignored the way her pulse had picked up, ignored the tiny voice in her head asking what the hell was that?
Elphaba watched her go, exhaling sharply.
Yeah.
She was in trouble.
Chapter Text
Glinda couldn’t sleep.
She tossed and turned, flipping her pillow, then throwing her blanket off before yanking it back on. It wasn’t the game, or practice, or even the looming project that kept her mind spinning. It was Elphaba.
And it was starting to piss her off.
She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t the first time she had been fixated on someone.
As a child, she had always been obsessed with the prettiest girls. She thought it was admiration, wanting to be like them. She memorized the way they laughed, the way they styled their hair, the way they carried themselves with effortless confidence.
She told herself she wanted that. She wanted to be like them. Not with them.
Right?
She thought about how she had been devastated when Avaric took an interest in Milla instead of her. Not because she liked him—she had barely tolerated him—but because Milla had been his first choice.
She thought about how she had stared too long when the older girls at cheer practice changed in front of her. How she told herself it was normal, that she was just admiring their toned legs, their perfect hair, their perfect everything.
And now—now there was Elphaba.
That was different, though. Right?
Elphaba was infuriating. Elphaba got under her skin. Elphaba made her feel like she constantly had something to prove. She wasn’t pretty, not in the way Glinda was used to noticing.
And yet, she had noticed. The way Elphaba’s eyes burned when she argued. The way her sharp tongue made Glinda’s blood rush hotter. The way she stood, confident despite the world trying to tell her she shouldn’t be.
Glinda squeezed her eyes shut. No. She was just frustrated.
It didn’t mean anything.
She exhaled heavily, flipping onto her stomach and burying her face in her pillow.
Then why was she so nervous about seeing Elphaba tomorrow?
Glinda arrived at the library exactly on time. Not early, not late. Just enough to make it seem casual, like she hadn’t thought about this too much—even though she definitely had.
She spotted Elphaba immediately. She was already seated at a corner table, notes spread out in an organized chaos that somehow still looked intentional. She hadn’t noticed Glinda yet, which gave Glinda a second to breathe, to not think about how different this felt now.
Elphaba glanced up just as Glinda approached, arching a brow. "You’re punctual. That’s unexpected."
Glinda rolled her eyes, sliding into the chair across from her. "I’m always on time."
"Mmhmm," Elphaba hummed, unconvinced, before flipping a page in her notebook. "We should get started. We’ve wasted enough time already."
Glinda frowned. "You say we like I haven’t been pulling my weight."
Elphaba smirked. "Have you?"
Glinda scowled but let it drop. She wasn’t about to let Elphaba rattle her today—not when her brain was already working overtime.
They settled into the work, exchanging notes and bouncing ideas back and forth. It should have been easy, effortless even, but there was something different in the air. Something charged.
At one point, Glinda reached across the table to grab a book, her fingers brushing Elphaba’s hand. The contact was brief, barely anything, but it sent a sharp jolt up her spine. She pulled back quickly, trying to mask the way her stomach flipped.
Elphaba, of course, noticed. But instead of her usual sharp edge, her voice was softer this time. "Something wrong?"
"Nothing," Glinda said too fast. Too defensive.
Elphaba tilted her head slightly, studying her—not in the way that made Glinda feel like she was being dissected, but like she was genuinely trying to understand something new.
Glinda swallowed, forcing herself to look back down at the book in front of her. The air between them wasn’t quite tense, just... fragile. Like a thread being stretched between them, neither willing to pull too hard in case it snapped.
She exhaled slowly, tracing a finger along the text. "Let’s just... focus."
Elphaba didn’t respond right away, but when she did, her voice was quieter. "Yeah. Okay."
They settled back into their notes, though neither of them seemed quite as focused as before. The air between them had shifted—not tense, exactly, but careful. Like neither of them wanted to acknowledge whatever was happening.
At some point, Glinda muttered something under her breath about how this project was going to be the death of her. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but Elphaba snorted, the sound breaking the quiet.
Glinda blinked at her. "Did you just laugh?"
Elphaba pressed her lips together like she hadn’t meant to, shaking her head. "No."
"You did."
"I did not."
Glinda grinned, leaning forward just slightly. "That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh. It’s kind of cute."
Elphaba froze. Completely. Like her brain had just short-circuited.
Glinda immediately realized what she had said, eyes widening in horror. "I mean—not cute, just—unexpected. In a totally neutral way. Like, wow, you’re actually capable of human joy."
Elphaba arched a brow, recovering faster than Glinda. "Uh-huh. Sure."
Glinda groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Forget I said anything."
Elphaba smirked, but it was softer than usual. "No chance."
They kept working, but the energy had shifted—something lighter now, even if neither of them fully acknowledged it. They weren’t quite comfortable, but the usual sharp edges had dulled. It felt… different.
Eventually, the clock caught up with them, and Elphaba shut her notebook with a quiet sigh. "I think that’s enough damage for tonight."
Glinda stretched her arms over her head, nodding. "Agreed. My brain is officially fried."
They packed up their things, but neither of them moved to leave right away. Glinda hesitated, fingers smoothing over the cover of her notebook as if she was debating something. She glanced at Elphaba, opened her mouth—
Then shut it again.
Elphaba caught the movement, her head tilting slightly. She didn’t push, didn’t make a comment about it. She just waited.
Glinda exhaled, shaking her head like she was annoyed with herself. "Nothing."
Elphaba studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright."
Glinda expected her to just walk away like usual, but she didn’t. Not right away. Instead, Elphaba lingered, shifting her bag onto her shoulder before glancing back at her.
"Good night, Glinda."
Glinda blinked. Elphaba never said good night. It was always a dismissive ‘see you’ or nothing at all.
For some reason, it sent something warm curling in her chest.
She swallowed, forcing her voice to stay even. "Good night, Elphaba."
And with that, they finally parted ways—both a little more aware of each other than they had been before.
Glinda had spent her whole life keeping it together.
She was good at it—being perfect, saying the right things, never letting anyone see when something actually hurt.
But today, everything felt like too much.
Cheer practice last night had been a disaster. The routines still weren’t where they needed to be, and the pressure to make them flawless before the next game was suffocating. Pfannee had pointedly commented that captains were supposed to lead by example, her tone syrupy-sweet but sharp underneath. The others had laughed. Glinda had smiled, as if it didn’t sting.
Then, today in history, she had been called on unexpectedly—except she hadn’t been paying attention. Dillamond had let the silence stretch too long, the eyes of the class burning into her skin. She’d felt stupid. She never let herself feel stupid.
And then, the text had come.
From her mother.
You looked distracted at last week’s game. That’s not acceptable, Glinda.
I hope you’re keeping up appearances. People notice when you don’t.
We expect better from you.
It wasn’t new. It wasn’t even the worst one. But for some reason, this time, it sent something cracking inside her.
She had held it together all day. Smiled. Nodded. Laughed when she was supposed to. But by the time the last bell rang, she couldn’t do it anymore.
She needed out.
She walked too fast, breath too short, pushing through the halls until she found an empty classroom and slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
Her hands pressed into the edge of a desk, gripping so hard her knuckles turned white. Her chest felt tight, her throat even tighter. Too much. Too fast.
The door opened.
Glinda flinched, jerking up, wide-eyed.
Elphaba stood in the doorway, looking just as startled to see her. She hesitated, her usual sharpness dulling when she really looked at Glinda. "Are you—?"
She didn’t finish the question, because she already knew the answer.
Glinda was breathing too fast. Panicking.
Elphaba moved before she thought, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. "Hey—hey, slow down. What’s wrong?"
Glinda shook her head quickly, eyes darting away. "Nothing. I just—"
But she couldn’t finish. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling where they gripped the desk.
Elphaba’s expression shifted. "Okay," she said, voice quieter now. Steady. "You need to slow down your breathing."
Glinda squeezed her eyes shut. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
A warm hand wrapped around hers. Elphaba kneeled next to Glinda.
Glinda gasped, eyes snapping open.
Elphaba wasn’t looking at her like she was weak. She wasn’t teasing, wasn’t smirking. She just held on—solid, grounding.
"Follow me," Elphaba said gently. "In for four. One, two, three, four."
Glinda inhaled, shaky but deeper.
"Good. Now out. One, two, three, four."
They did it again. And again. Until the fog in Glinda’s chest started to clear. Until she wasn’t drowning anymore.
She realized, distantly, that she was still holding onto Elphaba’s hand. Or maybe Elphaba was still holding onto hers.
Neither of them let go.
"Better?" Elphaba asked softly.
Glinda swallowed hard, nodding. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
Elphaba didn’t let go immediately. She just stayed there, close but not overwhelming, her hand firm and warm in Glinda’s own.
For the first time all day, Glinda didn’t feel like she was suffocating.
For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.
They stayed like that—silent, still—longer than they probably should have.
Glinda’s breathing had evened out, her chest no longer tight, but she still hadn’t let go. Or maybe she was just aware that Elphaba hadn’t let go either.
She should move. Say something. Laugh it off, maybe. But the words stuck in her throat, and the warmth of Elphaba’s hand in hers was so steady, so sure.
Elphaba didn’t speak either. But she wasn’t looking at Glinda like she was fragile anymore—just… there. Present. Not leaving.
Eventually, Elphaba’s fingers twitched, and slowly—so slowly—she let go. Not like she was pulling away. More like she was just… giving Glinda the choice to hold on or not.
Glinda hesitated. Just for a second. But then she let go, too.
The weight of the moment pressed in, heavy and unspoken.
Elphaba cleared her throat first, stepping back just slightly. "You good?"
Glinda forced a nod, even though she wasn’t sure what good even meant right now. "Yeah. I just—yeah."
Elphaba studied her for a moment, like she was trying to decide if she believed her. Then, with a small nod, she took another step back, giving Glinda space. "Okay."
Glinda exhaled, rubbing at her arms even though she wasn’t cold. "You’re not going to make some snarky comment about this?"
Elphaba tilted her head. "Do you want me to?"
Glinda blinked. No. No, she really didn’t.
She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Not really."
Elphaba hummed, something unreadable flickering across her face. "Alright, then."
Silence stretched between them again, not uncomfortable, just different.
Glinda stood and shifted toward the door, hesitating one last time. She should say thank you.
She should say something.
But instead, all she managed was, "I’ll see you tomorrow."
Elphaba nodded. "Yeah. Tomorrow."
Glinda slipped out, the door clicking shut behind her.
Elphaba stayed in the empty classroom for a long time after she left, staring at the space where Glinda had been.
Yeah. This definitely meant something.
Chapter Text
Glinda spent the entire drive home replaying the moment in her head.
It wasn’t just the panic attack—it was the way Elphaba had looked at her. Steady. Solid. Like she wasn’t going anywhere.
She didn’t know why that mattered so much.
By the time she got home, she was exhausted. She went through the motions—showered, changed into pajamas, curled up in bed—but her mind wouldn’t quiet. Her mother had sent another text.
Make sure you’re well-rested for practice tomorrow. You need to be better than last time.
She turned her phone over, face-down on the nightstand. She couldn’t deal with it right now.
Meanwhile, across town, Elphaba sat in bed, staring at her phone.
She told herself she was reading. The book was open, the words in front of her. But her eyes weren’t tracking the lines.
Because her mind was back in that classroom, with Glinda’s hand in hers.
She had felt the shift between them. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but it wasn’t nothing.
Before she could overthink it, she grabbed her phone and typed out a message.
Elphaba: You good?
She hesitated for half a second, then hit send.
Back in her room, Glinda’s phone buzzed. She frowned, flipping it over, expecting another text from her mother. Instead, she saw Elphaba’s name.
She blinked at the screen, rereading the message like she was imagining it.
It was just two words. Simple. But she didn’t have to send it at all.
Glinda swallowed, hesitating before typing back.
Glinda: Yeah. Thanks.
She hovered for a second, then added—
Glinda: Goodnight, Elphaba.
Elphaba stared at the response. Goodnight. She hadn’t expected that.
After a moment, she typed back.
Elphaba: Goodnight, Blondie.
She smirked as she sent it, imagining the way Glinda would huff at the nickname.
Sure enough, back in her room, Glinda let out a small, incredulous laugh.
She didn’t correct her.
She just set her phone down, rolled onto her side, and—for the first time in a while—fell asleep easily.
That day at lunch, the boys were on a mission.
"Come on, Elphie,” Crope whined, dramatically draping himself over the cafeteria table. "You never come to these things."
"Because I don’t want to," Elphaba deadpanned, stabbing at her food with zero enthusiasm.
"Yeah, yeah, we know," Tibbett said, waving her off. "But this one’s different. Big game. Big after-party. Huge turnout. You have to be there."
"I really don’t."
Boq chimed in from beside her. "They’re never going to drop this. You might as well say yes now."
Elphaba scowled. "Whose side are you on?"
"I’m just saying," Boq shrugged. "It’s Fiyero’s party. Glinda will be there."
Elphaba’s entire body went still.
Crope smirked. "Oh? Interested now?"
"I—" Elphaba’s mouth opened, then shut again. She should say no. She should say she doesn’t care.
Instead, she exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You’re all insufferable."
Tibbett grinned. "So that’s a yes?"
Elphaba sighed, already regretting every decision that led her to this moment.
"Fine. But if it’s awful, I’m leaving early."
Crope clapped excitedly. "We’ll make sure it’s worth your time."
Elphaba doubted it.
But she also doubted she’d be able to keep her eyes off a certain blonde for the entire night.
Glinda was determined to focus this time.
She really was.
But five minutes in, she knew it was hopeless.
She sat across from Elphaba at the same corner table in the library, trying to concentrate on their project. She should care about this. She should be engaged. Instead, she kept tapping her pencil against her notebook, mind drifting.
And the worst part? Elphaba noticed.
"You promised to focus," Elphaba said without looking up, flipping a page in her book.
Glinda jolted slightly. "I am focused."
Elphaba hummed. "Sure. That’s why you’ve been writing the same sentence for the past ten minutes."
Glinda scowled, looking down at her paper—and, okay, fine. Maybe Elphaba had a point.
She sighed, tapping her pencil against the desk. "My brain is fried. I can’t think anymore."
Elphaba finally glanced up, raising a brow. "Rough day?"
Glinda hesitated. Did she want to talk about it?
"Just… a lot on my mind." She waved a hand, brushing it off. "It’s nothing."
Elphaba didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she just arched a brow. "Well, stop fidgeting, it's driving me nuts."
Glinda narrowed her eyes, holding the pencil up dramatically before placing it on the table. "Fine. Happy?"
Elphaba shrugged. "For now."
The tension in Glinda’s chest eased just slightly. She wasn’t sure if Elphaba was trying to make her feel better, but somehow, she had.
They worked in actual silence for a while after that. Or at least, they tried to. But something was different.
Every time Glinda looked up, Elphaba was already watching her. And every time Elphaba looked up, Glinda was already staring.
They both pretended not to notice.
Eventually, Elphaba stretched, shutting her notebook. "Alright. That’s probably the most productive we’ve ever been."
Glinda snorted. "That’s a low bar."
Elphaba smirked, gathering her things. Usually, this would be where they left. But as they packed up, neither of them moved right away.
Glinda hovered, shifting in place like she wanted to say something. Elphaba noticed, waiting. Letting her.
But in the end, Glinda just exhaled, shaking her head. "Nothing."
Elphaba’s brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t call her out on it. "Alright."
They left the library together, walking out into the cool night air. Glinda wrapped her arms around herself, eyes flicking to Elphaba. It wasn’t awkward. Just… different.
When they reached the part of campus where they usually split, Glinda hesitated again. She had something she wanted to say. But what?
She didn’t know. So instead, she just said, "Good night, Elphaba."
Elphaba looked at her for a second too long before nodding. "Good night, princess."
Glinda rolled her eyes but didn’t correct her.
They went their separate ways, but this time, Glinda texted first.
Glinda: Thanks for putting up with me tonight. I actually think we made progress.
Elphaba saw the message and, for some reason, smiled.
Elphaba: Progress? Miracles do happen.
Glinda huffed a laugh, biting her lip before replying.
Glinda: Good night, Elphaba.
Elphaba hesitated for only a second before typing back.
Elphaba: Good night, Glinda.
And somehow, they both fell asleep a little easier that night.
Elphaba had no idea why she agreed to this.
She hated parties. The noise, the crowds, the smell of too much alcohol in the air—it was everything she went out of her way to avoid. But here she was, standing in Fiyero’s massive house, already looking for the nearest exit.
Crope and Tibbett were thriving. They had disappeared into the crowd almost immediately, leaving Elphaba stuck with Boq, who looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.
"You could at least pretend to have fun," Boq muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
Elphaba huffed. "You could at least pretend to stop making bad life choices."
Boq rolled his eyes. "And yet, here we both are."
Elphaba didn’t bother responding—her attention had been caught elsewhere.
Across the room, Glinda stood with Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla, drink in hand, laughing at something someone had said. She was radiant, as always—golden, untouchable.
But she wasn’t untouchable. Not really. Because she had looked over. At her.
It lasted only a second, but Elphaba saw it. Felt it. The way Glinda’s eyes flickered to her, the way something passed over her expression—too fast to read, but not fast enough to ignore.
Then, just as quickly, she turned back to her friends.
Elphaba exhaled sharply, tearing her gaze away. She needed a drink.
Glinda should have been having fun.
She was surrounded by her friends, the music was loud, the drinks were flowing. This was her world. She was good at this—laughing at the right moments, twirling her hair when Fiyero wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling like everything was perfect.
But she wasn’t paying attention. Not really.
Because she had seen Elphaba.
And worse—she had caught herself looking for her.
She downed another sip of her drink, trying to shake the feeling, but Fiyero noticed. He always noticed.
"You okay?" he murmured, voice low against her ear.
Glinda turned to him, blinking like she had to force herself to focus. "Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?"
He studied her for a beat too long, then smirked. "Good. Then dance with me."
He pulled her toward the crowd before she could argue, his hands warm on her waist, pulling her closer than she wanted to be.
She let him. She always did.
But it didn’t feel right.
Chapter Text
Elphaba hadn’t planned on drinking much. But after Boq left to go find Nessa, and Crope and Tibbett were off somewhere being chaotic, she caved.
She was on her second—or maybe third—drink when she overheard it.
"I still don’t get why she’s here," Shenshen’s voice rang out behind her, just loud enough to carry over the music.
"Ugh, right?" Pfannee scoffed. "Who even invited her?"
Elphaba tensed, fingers tightening around her drink.
"Maybe she’s stalking Glinda," Milla added, giggling.
Elphaba rolled her eyes, about to brush it off—until Glinda spoke.
"Would you just shut up?"
Silence.
Elphaba turned before she could stop herself.
Glinda had stepped away from Fiyero, standing between her and the others, her face tight with something unreadable. "Seriously. Do you ever get tired of talking about people all day?"
Pfannee blinked, looking almost offended. "Glinda, we’re joking."
"It’s not funny." Glinda’s voice was sharp, and Elphaba had never heard her sound like that before.
The tension between them was thick, the air electric with something unspoken, uneasy.
Glinda exhaled sharply, shaking her head before turning and walking away—toward the back of the house, toward the quieter, darker part of the patio.
Elphaba hesitated only for a second before following.
Glinda had her arms wrapped around herself when Elphaba stepped outside.
"You didn’t have to do that," Elphaba said, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
Glinda scoffed, turning toward her. "Do what? Tell them to shut up? Because I did."
Elphaba studied her, her gaze unreadable. "They’re your friends."
Glinda huffed, looking away. "Yeah. Well. Sometimes they suck."
Elphaba tilted her head, stepping closer. "Are you okay?"
Glinda let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
Elphaba didn’t respond right away. Glinda was unraveling again, just like she had in that classroom.
"I can't speak for everyone, but I'm asking because I don’t think you are," she said finally.
Glinda swallowed, her throat tight. "I don’t—" Her voice wavered. She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes for a second before exhaling. "I don’t know."
The honesty surprised even her.
Elphaba shifted, looking almost unsure of herself before—slowly, carefully—she reached out.
Not to grab Glinda’s hand this time. Just a touch. A light press of fingers against her wrist, grounding.
Glinda’s breath hitched. She should pull away. She didn’t.
Instead, she looked up, eyes meeting Elphaba’s in the dim glow of the patio lights.
They were too close. Or maybe not close enough.
Glinda felt it first—her heart skipping, her chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with panic this time.
Elphaba must have felt it too, because she started to move back, like she was about to step away—
"Don’t," Glinda whispered, barely thinking.
Elphaba stilled.
The space between them felt impossibly small.
Glinda swallowed, her pulse pounding in her ears. She could kiss her. Right now. She could just…
The sound of the door opening made them both jolt apart.
Glinda turned sharply, seeing Fiyero standing in the doorway, brows furrowed as he looked between them.
Elphaba took a step back, clearing her throat. "I should go."
She did.
And Glinda was left standing there, her body buzzing, her heart racing, as Fiyero’s gaze settled on her with an expression she couldn’t read.
Yeah. Everything had just changed.
Glinda went back inside with Fiyero, but everything felt wrong.
The party was still loud, the music still pounding, but it all sounded distant. Like she wasn’t really there.
Fiyero didn’t say anything at first. He just led her back to where the drinks were, pouring himself another one before glancing at her. "You want something?"
Glinda hesitated, then nodded. She didn’t really want another drink, but she also didn’t want to be alone in her own head right now.
Fiyero handed her a cup, but he didn’t step away. He just… watched her.
"So," he said after a beat, voice even. "Are you gonna tell me what that was?"
Glinda’s fingers curled around her drink. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Fiyero huffed a quiet laugh. "Glin."
She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Nothing happened."
Fiyero studied her. Not angry. Not upset. Just… knowing.
"Maybe not," he said, tilting his head slightly. "But you wanted something to happen."
Glinda’s breath caught. "I—"
"It’s okay," he interrupted, and his voice was too soft, too understanding. "I get it."
Glinda stared at him. "You get it?"
Fiyero exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I do."
He let the words sit between them for a second before continuing, "Do you think I didn’t go through the same thing? Figuring out why I felt different? Why I wasn’t just looking at girls?"
Glinda’s heart stuttered.
She blinked, too stunned to respond. "You—"
"I like girls. And I like guys," Fiyero said simply. "And maybe you like both, or maybe you just… like girls. Either way, you don’t have to lie to me about it."
Glinda’s throat was tight, her entire body buzzing in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
"I don’t—" she started, then faltered. Because what was she supposed to say?
Fiyero gave her a small smile. "You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Just… don’t pretend it’s nothing."
Glinda exhaled shakily. "I don’t know how to not pretend."
Fiyero studied her for a moment before tilting his head toward the back door. "Come on. Let’s step outside for a minute."
Glinda hesitated, glancing back toward the party, but eventually nodded. She needed air.
Outside, the night was quieter, the cool breeze settling against her flushed skin. Fiyero leaned against the railing, watching her carefully. "You don’t have to figure everything out right now. But… this is something, isn’t it?"
Glinda wrapped her arms around herself. "I don’t know. Maybe?" She huffed, shaking her head. "Yeah. I think so."
Fiyero nodded slowly, like he had already known the answer. "And it’s probably not the first time you’ve thought about it."
Glinda’s stomach twisted. She had spent years ignoring the little things—the lingering glances, the way her heart had skipped when a girl laughed a certain way, the way Elphaba made her feel something she wasn’t ready to name.
Fiyero sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I guess this means I’m losing my girlfriend, huh?"
Glinda’s heart clenched. "Fiyero, I—"
"It’s okay," he interrupted, his voice softer than she expected. "I mean, it sucks. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. But…" He trailed off, exhaling. "I care about you, Glinda. And I want you to be happy. Even if that means you figure out that what we have isn’t what you really want."
Glinda swallowed hard. "I don’t want to hurt you."
"You’re not," he said simply. "You’re just being honest. And I’d rather you be honest now than pretend for my sake."
Silence stretched between them for a moment before Fiyero nudged her shoulder lightly. "And hey, maybe this just means I get to say I was part of your bi-awakening arc. That’s gotta count for something, right?"
Glinda let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "You are impossible."
He grinned. "And yet, you dated me anyway."
She exhaled, looking up at him. "You’re really okay?"
Fiyero’s expression softened. "I will be. And so will you."
And for the first time that night, Glinda actually believed him.
Fiyero’s smile turned a little sad. "It’s okay."
They didn’t say anything else for a long moment. And then, without warning, Fiyero reached out and pulled her into a hug.
Glinda stiffened—only for a second—before melting into it. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t anything other than comfort.
"I’ve got you," he murmured against her hair. "No matter what."
Glinda squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t deserve this.
But she needed it anyway.
The next morning, Glinda woke up feeling like her whole world had shifted, even though nothing had technically changed.
She went through the motions—woke up, got dressed, went to school—but everything felt different.
Because she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
About Elphaba. About the way she had looked at her. About how Glinda had wanted her to stay, how she had almost—
She shook the thought away, slamming her locker shut a little harder than necessary.
"You good?" Pfannee asked, eyeing her curiously.
"Fine," Glinda said quickly. Too quickly.
Pfannee raised a brow, but didn’t push. Still, Glinda could feel her watching her throughout the day. Like she knew something was off.
And maybe that was fair. Because Glinda was off.
She had spent years brushing off her fascination with certain girls, telling herself it was just admiration. But now?
Now she wasn’t sure.
She found herself noticing things she had tried not to notice before. The way girls moved, the way they laughed, the way her stomach tightened when someone looked at her a certain way.
It wasn’t new. It was just undeniable now.
And Elphaba?
Elphaba was avoiding her.
Not in a dramatic way. Not in a rude way. But in a deliberate way.
Their eyes didn’t meet in the halls.
She didn’t send a single text.
Glinda wanted her to.
Word spread fast.
By Monday afternoon, everyone knew: Glinda and Fiyero were over.
It wasn’t dramatic. There was no big fight, no messy public display. Just a quiet conversation, an understanding, and then—done.
Pfannee and Shenshen cornered her at her locker almost immediately. "You broke up with Fiyero?" Pfannee’s voice was sharp with disbelief. "Are you serious?"
"What happened?" Shenshen added, eyes scanning Glinda’s face for any sign of regret.
Glinda forced a breezy smile. "It just wasn’t working anymore. We both felt it."
Pfannee scoffed. "He’s, like, perfect. What’s there to not work?"
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
Because I think I might like someone else. Because I don’t think I ever really felt the way I was supposed to.
Instead, she just shrugged. "Sometimes things just end."
Across the hall, Elphaba was listening.
She hadn’t meant to. But as soon as she heard Glinda’s name and "broke up," something in her went still.
She had left the party as soon as she stepped away from Glinda that night. She had walked home, her heart racing, mind an absolute mess.
And now—this? Was this her fault? Had she done this?
She didn’t know how to feel about it. Didn’t know if she wanted to feel anything about it.
She turned back to her locker, trying to shake the thought, but her hands felt clumsy, her mind too loud.
Crope and Tibbett found her not long after. "So, did you hear?" Crope sing-songed, practically vibrating with curiosity.
"Glinda’s single," Tibbett added, wiggling his brows. "And you definitely had something to do with it."
Elphaba stiffened. "I did not."
Crope gave her a look. "You sure about that? Because from what I heard, you two had a moment."
Elphaba shut her locker with more force than necessary. "Drop it."
Tibbett smirked. "Touchy."
Glinda had been dreading this.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Elphaba. If anything, that was the problem.
They hadn’t spoken since the party. Not really. Just polite nods in the hallway, stolen glances that lasted too long, and a whole lot of nothing.
And now, here they were. Sitting across from each other in the library like everything was normal, like her whole world hadn’t shifted on its axis.
Elphaba was acting too normal.
She was focused, flipping through her notes, writing things down, not fidgeting, not saying anything snarky.
And it was driving Glinda insane.
Glinda cleared her throat. "So… we just need to finalize our argument, right?"
"Right," Elphaba said without looking up.
Glinda clenched her jaw. Fine. If Elphaba wanted to act like nothing had happened, so could she.
Except she couldn’t. Because her mind kept looping back to the patio, to the almost of it all, to the way she had told Elphaba not to move away—
She forced herself to focus, scanning over their notes. But the words were a blur, and the silence between them was too heavy.
Elphaba finally sighed, setting her pencil down. "Alright. Just say it."
Glinda blinked. "Say what?"
Elphaba gave her a pointed look. "Whatever’s making you stare at your notebook like you're planning to set it on fire."
Glinda’s stomach twisted. This was a bad idea.
"I just—" She hesitated, then huffed. "Are we gonna talk about the fact that everything’s weird now?"
Elphaba didn’t react right away. Then, carefully, she said, "What’s weird?"
Glinda scoffed. "Oz, don’t do that. Don’t act like nothing’s changed."
Elphaba pressed her lips together, fingers tapping once against the table. "Glinda—"
"It’s fine if you regret it," Glinda blurted out before she could stop herself. "If you don’t—if that was just a thing to you, or whatever. But I’m not crazy. I know you felt it too."
The silence stretched between them, charged and dangerous.
Elphaba finally exhaled sharply, closing her notebook. "We should finish this."
Glinda’s heart sank. "Right. Of course."
Neither of them spoke after that.
Chapter Text
By Friday, their project was done.
They turned it in before class, setting the binder down on Dillamond’s desk without so much as a word to each other. It should have felt like a relief—one less thing to worry about—but instead, it left an uncomfortable emptiness hanging between them.
Glinda should have been happy. They had worked hard. Their argument was strong. Dillamond had even nodded approvingly as he skimmed through it.
But she wasn’t happy. She was restless.
Elphaba, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered.
She had barely acknowledged her all morning, her usual sharpness dulled into something distant, something that made Glinda’s stomach churn. And worst of all—Glinda let her.
She didn’t know why she expected anything different. Maybe she thought that, once the project was over, they’d talk. Actually talk. But instead, Elphaba was already gathering her things, leaving the classroom like none of it had ever happened.
And Glinda hated how much that bothered her.
Pfannee and Shenshen were waiting outside, chattering about weekend plans. The moment Glinda stepped out, Pfannee linked arms with her. "Thank Oz that’s over. I don’t know how you put up with her."
Glinda stiffened, something hot flaring in her chest. "It wasn’t that bad."
Pfannee raised an eyebrow. "Not that bad? She’s the worst."
Glinda didn’t respond. Because she wasn’t sure she agreed anymore.
From down the hall, Elphaba was already disappearing into the crowd, her shoulders tense, her pace quick.
And Glinda had the sudden, overwhelming urge to follow her.
Glinda wasn’t okay.
She had spent the entire afternoon going through the motions—smiling when she was supposed to, nodding along to conversations she wasn’t really hearing. But the restlessness hadn’t left her. If anything, it had gotten worse.
It all came to a head when she got home. She had barely set her bag down before her chest tightened, breath coming too fast, hands gripping the edge of the counter as a dizzy wave crashed over her.
Not now. Not again.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pull herself out of it, but her body wasn’t listening.
And then, she remembered.
The empty classroom. The steady voice. The warm hand wrapped around hers.
Follow me. In for four. One, two, three, four.
Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to do it. In for four. One, two, three, four.
It took a few rounds, but eventually, the fog started to lift. Her pulse slowed, her grip on the counter easing as the air felt less suffocating.
It worked.
It actually worked.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed her phone.
Glinda: It works.
She hovered for a second, then added—
Glinda: The breathing thing. Just now. It helped.
She wasn’t expecting a response right away. Maybe not at all. But less than a minute later—
Elphaba: Good.
Glinda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Glinda: Thanks.
There was a pause. Then—
Her phone buzzed again.
Not a text this time. A call.
Her breath caught as she saw the name on the screen. Elphaba.
For a second, she just stared at it. Then, before she could think too hard, she answered.
"Hey," she said, voice still a little shaky.
There was a pause. Then, carefully, gently—"Are you okay?"
Glinda swallowed hard. She had been fine a second ago—or at least, better. But hearing Elphaba’s voice, hearing the way she asked like she actually cared—something in her wavered.
"I—I am now," she admitted, voice quiet.
Elphaba exhaled softly on the other end, like she wasn’t sure what to do with that. "Good."
Neither of them spoke for a second.
Glinda shifted, curling into herself a little. "I didn’t think you’d call."
Elphaba hesitated. "I wasn’t going to. But then I thought… I don’t know."
Glinda smiled a little. "That’s not very like you."
A breathy chuckle. "No. It’s not."
Another pause—longer this time, heavier, but not uncomfortable.
"You don’t have to stay on the phone," Glinda said, voice softer now. "I just… I really do appreciate you checking up on me."
Elphaba was quiet for a moment, then—"I’ll stay. If you want."
Glinda’s heart stuttered.
She nodded, even though Elphaba couldn’t see it. "Yeah. I’d like that."
And so, they stayed.
The silence stretched, not heavy, not awkward—just there. For once, it didn’t feel like they were waiting for the other to say something first.
But then Glinda exhaled, shifting in bed. "Can you… talk to me? Just—about something?"
Elphaba hesitated. "What kind of something?"
"Anything," Glinda admitted. "Just… distract me."
Elphaba was quiet for a moment, then—"Track practice sucked."
Glinda blinked. "That’s your opener?"
"You said anything."
A small, breathy laugh escaped her. "Alright, fine. Why did it suck?"
Elphaba sighed dramatically, and Glinda could picture her rolling her eyes. "Because Coach decided that today was the day we all had to suffer. Eight-hundred-meter repeats. Back to back. I think I actually saw my life flash before my eyes."
Glinda hummed. "Tragic."
"Completely."
Glinda curled further into her blankets, focusing on the steady rhythm of Elphaba’s voice. "And what else? Any big plans for the weekend?"
"Besides not moving for the next 48 hours?" Elphaba snorted. "Not really. Crope and Tibs are trying to drag me to some café they won’t shut up about, but we’ll see if they succeed."
Glinda smiled softly. "You should go."
"Why?"
"Because you need more fun."
Elphaba scoffed. “I’m plenty fun.”
For the first time in a long time, Glinda didn’t feel so lonely.
Elphaba wasn’t used to this.
The boys were looking at her like they knew something. Like they were just waiting for her to crack.
"So, what was holding all your attention all night?" Tibbett smirked, stabbing his fork into his food as he leaned forward. "You were suspiciously absent from our usual nonsense in the group chat."
Elphaba rolled her eyes, shoving a piece of bread into her mouth so she didn’t have to answer immediately.
Crope wasn’t fooled. "Oh, come on. You never miss our late-night chaos. We were all waiting to plan the weekend, and you didn’t text. What were you doing?"
Elphaba sighed, setting down her drink. "Can we not?"
"So defensive," Tibbett teased, grinning. "Oh Oz, was it Glinda?"
Elphaba stiffened.
Silence.
And that was all the confirmation they needed.
Boq’s eyes widened. "Wait. It was?"
Elphaba immediately scowled, shoving her tray back. "I hate you all."
Crope practically cackled. "That’s not a no!"
Tibbett clutched his chest dramatically. "Our Elphie? Falling for the cheer captain? Oh, this is rich."
"I am not—" Elphaba started, but she didn’t get to finish.
Because suddenly, across the cafeteria, voices were raising.
All of them turned.
At the far end of the room, Fiyero stood in front of his usual table—the football team’s table—and it didn’t look friendly.
The guy across from him—Avaric, of course—had his arms crossed, his expression smug. "Come on, man. You can’t actually expect us to believe that."
Fiyero’s jaw was tight. "Believe what? That I like guys too? That I always have?"
Avaric scoffed. "Okay, but like—why say it now?"
Fiyero’s eyes flickered, just for a second, to Glinda across the cafeteria.
Elphaba noticed.
Avaric continued, shaking his head. "This some weird post-breakup crisis thing? Because you were just with Glinda."
"Yeah, and I care about her. That doesn’t change anything," Fiyero shot back. "I’m still me."
One of the other guys—Rikkard—leaned back in his seat, unimpressed. "That’s cute and all, but maybe you should go sit somewhere else."
Silence.
It was subtle, but it was there. A shift. A decision.
Fiyero nodded once, something unreadable flashing across his face. "Yeah. I got it."
Then, without another word, he turned—and walked away from them.
Straight toward Elphaba’s table.
She raised an eyebrow as he approached. "Need a seat?"
Fiyero exhaled, sliding into the open spot next to her. "Guess I do."
Tibbett, for once, wasn’t teasing. "You good?"
Fiyero’s jaw clenched, but his voice was steady. "Yeah. Just got a new lunch table, that’s all."
They let the words settle. Then—
Crope shrugged. "You should’ve just come over ages ago. We’re way more fun."
Fiyero let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. Maybe."
But across the room, Glinda wasn’t laughing.
Because she had seen it happen. Had watched the way Fiyero was shut out so easily.
She suddenly understood just how much she had to lose.
Glinda barely spoke for the rest of lunch.
Pfannee, Milla and Shenshen noticed—of course they noticed—but they just assumed it was about Fiyero. They filled the silence with gossip, with speculation, with noise, and Glinda let them.
Because if she spoke, if she actually let herself process what had just happened, she might unravel completely.
That could be me.
The thought wouldn’t leave her alone. It looped, over and over, pounding in her head until she felt like she might actually be sick.
So she did what she was best at. She pretended.
She smiled at the right moments. She laughed—forced, brittle, but passable. She let Pfannee’s voice drown out her own thoughts, nodding along even when she barely heard a word.
And she didn’t look at Elphaba.
Not once.
Glinda made excuses. Small, subtle, but deliberate.
She lingered longer at her locker between classes. She took the long way to the gym, to the library, to everywhere. She stayed close to Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla even when she didn’t want to, because it meant not being near Elphaba.
And Elphaba noticed.
Glinda felt it—every time she passed her in the hallway, every moment she had to actively keep her gaze forward, every second that felt stretched too thin.
Elphaba wasn’t stupid. And Glinda wasn’t subtle.
At one point, between classes, she heard Crope’s voice carrying across the hall. Teasing, smug.
"Someone’s been in a mood today."
She didn’t hear Elphaba’s response—if she even gave one. She didn’t let herself hear it. She just walked faster.
Glinda curled into her blankets, staring at the soft glow of her phone screen.
Her messages were open. Elphaba’s name at the top.
She typed.
I’m sorry for—
Today was just—
Are you—
She deleted all of them.
She set her phone face-down on the mattress, exhaling sharply. Her heart was still too fast.
She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.
Fiyero had texted her earlier. Just a simple hey, you okay?—and she hadn’t answered.
Her fingers hovered over his name now, but she didn’t text him back either.
Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about green skin, sharp eyes, a steady voice that had once pulled her out of this exact spiral.
But it wasn’t working.
Chapter Text
Glinda should have known it was coming.
She had barely stepped foot on campus before Fiyero was there, waiting.
"You’re avoiding her," he said immediately, falling into step beside her.
Glinda flinched. "What?"
Fiyero gave her a look. "Come on, Glin. You’re good at pretending, but not that good."
Her stomach twisted. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Uh-huh. And I’m the next King of Oz."
Glinda exhaled sharply, gripping the strap of her bag tighter. "I just… I need space."
"No, you need to stop running from yourself."
Glinda halted.
Fiyero stopped too, turning to face her. "You saw what happened to me yesterday, and now you’re terrified it’s going to happen to you."
Glinda swallowed hard. "I—"
"It’s okay to be scared," he said softly. "But don’t take it out on her. That’s not fair."
Glinda clenched her jaw. "I never said—"
"You don’t have to say it," Fiyero cut in. "I see you, Glinda. And I know you."
She looked away, something burning behind her eyes.
Fiyero sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just… don’t shut her out completely, okay?"
Glinda didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t sure she knew how to promise that.
Elphaba was alone when Glinda found her.
She was sitting outside, legs stretched out in front of her, a book balanced in one hand, the other mindlessly twirling a loose braid between her fingers. She looked peaceful.
And Glinda was about to ruin that.
Her stomach twisted, but she pushed forward anyway, stepping closer, waiting for Elphaba to notice her.
She did. Of course she did.
Green eyes flicked up, wary but unreadable. "Glinda."
Glinda swallowed, her throat suddenly too tight. "Hey. Can I—?"
She gestured vaguely, unsure what she was even asking.
Elphaba stared at her for a moment, then sighed, snapping her book shut and nudging the empty space beside her. "Go ahead."
Glinda sat, folding her hands in her lap, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were.
Elphaba was waiting. Not pushing, not smirking, just—waiting.
And Glinda didn’t know what to say.
So she just… said the truth.
"I’m scared."
Elphaba didn’t react right away. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady. "Of what?"
Glinda exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Of this. Of whatever we’re doing. Of what it means. Of what happens if I—"
She cut herself off, squeezing her hands together. "I don’t know how to do this, Elphaba. I don’t even know what this is."
A long pause.
Then, quietly—"Okay."
Glinda blinked. "Okay?"
Elphaba’s lips twitched, almost like she wanted to smirk but didn’t. "Yeah. Okay."
Glinda frowned. "That’s… that’s not helpful."
Elphaba finally turned toward her, one brow raising. "Do you want me to tell you what this is? Because I can’t."
Glinda’s chest clenched. "Why not?"
Elphaba exhaled. "Because I think that’s up to you."
Glinda looked away, jaw tightening. "That’s not fair."
"No," Elphaba admitted. "It’s not."
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not unbearable.
Then, softer—gentler. "You don’t have to have an answer, Glinda. Not right now."
Glinda hesitated, then turned back to her. "Then what do I do?"
Elphaba studied her for a long moment. Then, simply—
"You stay."
Glinda’s breath caught.
She swallowed hard, looking down at her hands, at the space between them, at the way her pulse wouldn’t slow.
And then—she stayed.
They sat in silence for a while.
Not the tense, uncomfortable kind—just the kind that felt full.
Glinda picked at a loose thread on her skirt, fingers twitching. She could leave. She could change the subject, pretend this wasn’t happening.
But she didn’t want to.
Instead, she exhaled and said—more than she meant to.
"How are you so sure?"
Elphaba turned slightly, brows furrowing. "Sure of what?"
Glinda shook her head quickly. "Of yourself. Of what you want. Of—of this."
Elphaba studied her, green eyes searching. "Who said I was?"
Glinda scoffed, frustration bubbling up. "Oh, please. You always act like you know exactly who you are. Like none of this scares you."
Elphaba was quiet for a moment. Then, carefully— "It does scare me."
Glinda froze.
Elphaba exhaled, fingers tapping absently against her knee. "I just… I decided a long time ago that fear doesn’t get to make my choices for me."
Glinda blinked. "That’s…" She hesitated. "I don’t think I can do that."
Elphaba tilted her head slightly. "Why not?"
Glinda swallowed, voice smaller now. "Because I don’t know what I want."
Elphaba nodded slowly, like she understood that more than she should. "And that’s okay."
Glinda let out a shaky breath, shaking her head. "No, it’s not. Not when everyone expects me to."
Elphaba’s gaze softened. "Screw expectations."
Glinda let out a hollow laugh. "Easy for you to say."
"It’s not," Elphaba admitted. "But it’s still true."
Glinda pressed her lips together, something aching behind her ribs. "I’ve never not done what was expected of me. Never even thought about it. And now I…"
She trailed off, staring at her hands. "I don’t know how."
Elphaba watched her carefully, then, softer this time— "Then maybe that’s the first choice you make for yourself."
Glinda’s throat felt tight. "Just like that?"
Elphaba hummed. "Not just like that. But it’s a start."
Glinda looked down, something heavy settling in her chest—but not in a bad way. More like… a weight she didn’t realize she had been carrying.
Because Elphaba wasn’t giving her an answer. She was just giving her the space to find one.
And for the first time, that didn’t feel like pressure.
It felt like freedom.
Glinda should have felt better.
She did feel better. Sort of.
But as she walked away from Elphaba, her chest was still tight—not with fear, not exactly, but with something close to it.
She didn’t look back.
She wanted to.
Chapter Text
Pfannee and Shenshen were waiting for her when she got back to the main building, already mid-conversation about something shallow and unimportant.
"Oh, Oz, you would not believe what Milla was saying earlier—"
"She’s so obsessed with herself, it’s honestly embarrassing—"
Glinda smiled. Nodded. Laughed when she was supposed to.
But her mind wasn’t there.
She wasn’t thinking about Milla or gossip or the game tomorrow.
She was thinking about a quiet moment on the steps. About green hands and steady words. About the way Elphaba had looked at her—not like she was asking for anything, just like she was seeing her.
And for the first time maybe ever, Glinda wasn’t sure she wanted to be seen.
Elphaba should have gone straight to practice.
Instead, she ended up near the cafeteria, finding Crope, Tibbett, and Fiyero at their usual spot outside. The moment she sat down, Crope’s eyes narrowed.
"You’re being weird."
Elphaba exhaled sharply. "Hello to you too."
Tibbett tilted his head, studying her. "No, but like… you’re thinking really hard."
"That’s just her face," Boq pointed out, sliding into the conversation as he sat down with them. "She always looks like she’s planning a murder."
Elphaba didn’t dignify that with a response.
Fiyero, who had been mostly quiet until now, finally leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You talked to her."
Elphaba’s spine went stiff. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Oh, you so do," Tibbett gasped. "You had a whole moment with her, didn’t you?"
"There was no moment," Elphaba muttered, pretending to care about her sandwich.
Crope grinned. "So you did talk."
Elphaba scowled. "Would you all shut up?"
Fiyero didn’t press, but the look on his face made it clear he knew.
He knew exactly what was happening.
And he also knew Elphaba was just as screwed as Glinda.
Later that night, after Glinda had showered and curled up in bed, she opened her phone without thinking.
She hadn’t expected a message.
And yet—
Elphaba: So, you survive the rest of the day?
Glinda blinked at the screen, something twisting in her stomach.
Her fingers hovered. She could ignore it. She could pretend this was nothing.
But then, before she could talk herself out of it—
Glinda: Barely. You?
A pause. Then—
Elphaba: Still alive, unfortunately.
Glinda hesitated, then—
Glinda: That unfortunate, huh?
Elphaba: You have no idea.
Glinda: Try me.
A pause. Then—
Elphaba: Practice was a disaster. Coach made us run sprints until I started seeing visions of my own funeral.
Glinda bit her lip, stifling a laugh.
Glinda: Dramatic. You lived.
Elphaba: Barely.
The conversation should have ended there. But neither of them put their phones down.
Another pause. Then—
Glinda: ...You still awake?
Elphaba: Clearly.
Glinda hesitated for half a second before pressing the call button.
It only rang once before Elphaba picked up. "This is unexpected."
"Is it?" Glinda settled into her pillows, curling into herself. "I don’t know, I figured I owed you a call after the other night."
Elphaba hummed. "Oh? You keeping score now?"
Glinda rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "Just talk to me. Tell me more about your tragic near-death experience at practice."
Elphaba let out a quiet laugh, and just like that, they fell into easy conversation.
Glinda smiled.
Chapter Text
Glinda needed to get out.
The party was too loud, too crowded, too much. She had done what she was supposed to—smiled, laughed, let Pfannee and the others pull her into conversations that didn’t matter.
But something wasn’t right.
Her chest felt tight, her head was buzzing, and every time she blinked, she heard her mother’s voice in her head.
Keep up appearances, Glinda. People notice when you don’t.
She slipped outside without thinking, the cool night air hitting her skin like a slap. She pressed a hand to her chest, breathe, just breathe.
"You always run off like this?"
Glinda’s breath caught. She turned toward the voice, already knowing who it was.
Elphaba leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed, watching her with that unreadable expression she always had. Not pushing, not intruding. Just… there.
Glinda swallowed, glancing away. "No."
A beat of silence.
"Maybe. Stay with me a minute?"
Elphaba nodded once, then, without a word, sat down on the porch steps.
Glinda hesitated before sitting beside her.
Silence stretched between them, not awkward, just full.
Then—
"You ever feel like you’re supposed to be someone else?" Glinda asked, voice quiet but pointed.
Elphaba huffed a quiet laugh. "Every day."
Glinda turned her head. "Yeah?"
Elphaba shrugged. "People assume things. They decide who you are before you get a say. It’s easier to just let them think they’re right."
Glinda swallowed. "And that doesn’t bother you?"
Elphaba tilted her head slightly. "It used to. Now, I think I’d rather be misunderstood than be something I’m not."
Glinda looked down, fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. "I don’t think I know how to do that."
"You do," Elphaba said simply. "You just don’t believe it yet."
Glinda let out a breath. She wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying.
"Alright, then," Glinda said, forcing a small smirk. "Truth for a truth."
Elphaba raised a brow. "Oh?"
"You answer my question, I answer yours. No skipping."
Elphaba smirked slightly. "Fine. But don’t go getting all sentimental on me."
Glinda rolled her eyes but bit her lip, considering. "What’s the worst thing people assume about you?"
Elphaba exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes flickering away. "That I don’t feel things. That nothing gets to me."
Glinda studied her. "And does it?"
Elphaba’s gaze met hers, steady and unflinching. "Yeah."
Glinda looked away, fingers tightening. She hadn’t expected her to admit that.
"My turn," Elphaba said. "What’s the best lie you’ve ever told?"
Glinda hesitated, then gave a hollow laugh. "That I have it all figured out."
Elphaba watched her, something softening in her expression. "And do you?"
Glinda exhaled. "Not even close."
They sat in that truth for a moment, letting it settle between them.
"What scares you the most?" Glinda asked next, almost without thinking.
Elphaba’s fingers tapped against her knee, her answer slower this time. "Losing the people I let close."
Glinda’s stomach twisted. "And you?" Elphaba returned.
Glinda swallowed. There were a million answers she could give.
But only one felt real.
"That I’ll never stop pretending."
Elphaba didn’t look away. "Then stop."
Glinda let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "It’s not that easy."
"No," Elphaba agreed. "But it’s a start."
Silence again. Not empty, not uncomfortable—just heavy with understanding.
A gust of wind swept through, sending a shiver down Glinda’s spine. Elphaba noticed, already shrugging off her jacket before Glinda could protest. "Here."
Glinda blinked at her. "You don’t have to—"
"You’re cold. Take it."
Glinda hesitated, then slipped the jacket over her shoulders. It was warm. It smelled like her.
She held onto the edges, glancing at Elphaba, something unreadable in her expression. Something dangerous.
Elphaba’s lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something else—
And then the door swung open.
"Glinda!" Pfannee’s voice cut through the quiet, bright and oblivious. "What are you doing out here? We’ve been looking everywhere!"
Glinda startled, eyes flicking between Elphaba and the house. The moment shattered.
She hesitated for only a second before standing, slipping out of Elphaba’s jacket and handing it back. "I should—"
Elphaba took it without argument. "Yeah."
Glinda’s throat felt tight. "Thanks for the distraction."
Elphaba’s gaze lingered on her, something unreadable behind sharp green eyes. "Anytime."
Glinda turned, forcing herself to walk away, forcing herself not to look back.
Pfannee fell into step beside her, looping an arm around Glinda’s like she always did, a little too close, a little too possessive. Her grip was a little too tight, her smile a little too sharp.
"What was that?" she asked, her voice lilting, but laced with something colder underneath. "Since when do you sneak off with her?"
Glinda stiffened, forcing a laugh. "It was nothing. Just—air. I needed some air."
Pfannee hummed, unconvinced. "Right. Well, people notice things, Glinda. You don’t want them getting the wrong idea, do you?"
But later that night, lying awake in bed, she wasn’t thinking about the party, or Pfannee, or anything she should have been focused on.
She was thinking about a quiet porch, a borrowed jacket, and the one person who made her feel like she could breathe.
Glinda had spent her whole life being watched.
She knew how to be looked at. How to smile at the right moment, how to bat her lashes and tilt her head just so. She knew how to be dazzling, how to make people love her. She had perfected it years ago.
And yet, as she lay in bed that night, staring at her phone, she realized something unsettling.
Elphaba didn’t watch her like everyone else did.
She didn’t wait for a performance, didn’t expect Glinda to be perfect, didn’t even seem particularly interested in the act Glinda had so carefully crafted.
She just... saw her.
Glinda exhaled, rolling onto her side, phone still clutched in her hand. The chat was open, Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. What was she supposed to say? That she felt weird? That something about that conversation had stuck? That she kept replaying the way Elphaba had looked at her—steady, unflinching, like she wasn’t afraid of whatever she saw?
She closed her eyes, sighed, and then, before she could talk herself out of it, typed.
Glinda: You’re really annoying, you know that?
The dots appeared almost instantly.
Elphaba: I have been told.
Glinda huffed a small laugh, biting her lip. Why was this so easy?
She hesitated, then typed again.
Glinda: I meant it, you know. Thank you.
A pause.
Elphaba: I know.
Glinda swallowed, staring at the screen. Then—
Glinda: Why did you stay?
Longer pause this time. Then—
Elphaba: Because you asked me to.
Glinda’s heart stuttered.
She didn’t know what to say to that. Because it was simple, effortless—like it hadn’t even been a question in Elphaba’s mind.
No one had ever stayed just because she asked them to.
She exhaled slowly, then typed one last message before setting her phone down.
Glinda: Goodnight, Elphaba.
And, almost immediately—
Elphaba: Goodnight, Glinda.
Glinda closed her eyes, her phone still warm in her hand.
Glinda wasn’t sure why she said yes.
When Fiyero had texted her that morning—Come to brunch. It’ll be fun. You need fun.—she had nearly declined. The idea of sitting at a table full of Elphaba’s friends, in broad daylight, felt like a terrible idea. She wasn’t one of them.
But for some reason, she had said yes anyway.
Now she was sitting at a corner booth in a cozy little café, stirring a spoon aimlessly through her coffee while Crope and Tibbett argued over something ridiculous and Boq tried (and failed) to mediate. Elphaba, across from her, was unreadable, arms crossed as she listened to the chaos unfolding beside her.
Glinda felt out of place. At first.
But then—
"Boq, you cannot seriously be defending that movie," Crope was saying, exasperated. "It’s a disaster—the plot makes no sense, the romance is forced, and don’t even get me started on the costuming."
Boq huffed. "Just because you have no taste doesn’t mean—"
"Oh, Oz, here we go," Tibbett groaned. "Next he’s going to bring up the cinematography again."
"Because it was good!"
Glinda snorted before she could stop herself.
All eyes turned to her, and she immediately flushed. "Sorry, I just—"
"No, no," Crope grinned, leaning forward. "You agree with me, don’t you?"
Glinda hesitated, then shrugged. "I mean… the romance was pretty bad."
Boq gasped in betrayal as Crope and Tibbett erupted into victorious laughter. Even Fiyero chuckled, shaking his head.
Glinda stole a glance at Elphaba. And for the first time that morning, she thought—maybe she didn’t feel that out of place after all.
The conversation continued, shifting topics with the ease of people who had been friends for years. Glinda found herself listening more than speaking, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, she felt strangely... included.
"So, Glinda," Tibbett said suddenly, spearing a piece of fruit from his plate, "are you actually enjoying yourself, or are you just too polite to run away screaming?"
Glinda blinked, then laughed lightly. "I think I’m still deciding."
Crope gasped dramatically. "Rude! We are delightful company."
"And humble," Elphaba muttered dryly.
Glinda grinned at that, then realized—Elphaba was watching her. Just for a second, before she looked away, sipping her coffee like she hadn’t been caught. It sent a strange warmth through Glinda’s chest.
"Alright, let’s get serious," Fiyero leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? And no pageant answers—real answers only."
"This feels like a trap," Boq muttered.
"It is," Tibbett confirmed cheerfully. "Glinda goes first."
Glinda raised a brow. "Why do I have to go first?"
"Because you’re new to the group," Crope said, as if it were obvious. "Initiation rules."
Glinda hesitated, chewing her lip. Then, after a moment, she sighed dramatically. "Fine. I once faked sick to get out of a school event, and my mother did not believe me, so I doubled down and pretended to faint in our kitchen."
The boys howled with laughter. Even Elphaba smirked, shaking her head.
"That’s not bad at all," Boq said between laughs. "That’s just self-preservation."
"Alright, alright, my turn—" Fiyero started, but Glinda wasn’t paying attention anymore.
Because Elphaba was still looking at her, the edges of her sharp, unreadable expression softened just slightly.
And, for some reason, that felt like the most important thing in the world.
Ugh," Elphaba groaned suddenly, setting her coffee down with a little too much force. "I can't believe I have to race tomorrow. A Sunday meet. As if I don't have enough to be annoyed about."
"Wait, your dad’s letting you compete on a Sunday?" Boq asked, raising a brow. "I thought that was, like, a whole thing with him."
Elphaba rolled her eyes. "Oh, he’s livid. But it’s the state meet, and my coach wouldn’t let me sit it out just because my father still thinks we live in the dark ages."
"Yikes," Crope said sympathetically. "Religious guilt and athletic pressure? Double homicide."
"You’ll kill it, though," Tibbett added. "We’re all coming to support, obviously."
Elphaba raised a skeptical brow. "You are?"
"Of course," Fiyero said with an easy grin. "Wouldn’t miss it. Besides, I need an excuse to wake up before noon on a weekend."
"Tragic," Crope deadpanned. "How ever will you survive?"
Glinda, who had been quietly listening, suddenly felt something shift inside her. The boys’ unwavering support of Elphaba—how natural it was, how unspoken—made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t quite understand.
"You better win," Boq added with a smirk. "Or I’m telling your dad you chose to race."
Elphaba snorted. "Yeah, because that’ll really encourage me to run faster."
Glinda hesitated for only a moment before speaking up. "Maybe I’ll come too."
The table went quiet.
Elphaba’s eyes flickered toward her, unreadable. "You don’t have to do that."
Glinda lifted her chin slightly. "I know that."
A beat passed. Then, to her surprise, Elphaba smirked just a little. "Alright, Princess. Let’s see if you can handle early mornings."
Chapter Text
Glinda was determined to do this right. If she was going to show up, she was going to really show up.
So, she went all out.
She woke up early , stopped at the café, and ordered coffee for everyone—extra sugar for Crope, tea for Tibbett, and a ridiculous number of blueberry muffins for Boq. She even grabbed something for Elphaba, though she had no idea what she actually liked.
By the time she arrived at the stadium, the boys were already there, half-asleep in the bleachers.
"Surprise!" she announced, setting the drinks and food down like it was some grand event.
They blinked at her, groggy and confused.
"Did you—?" Boq started.
"You did not," Crope gasped dramatically.
"Oh, but I did," Glinda said smugly, handing out their orders. "Am I in the club now? Did I pass initiation?"
Tibbett grinned, taking his tea. "I think you just became our favorite person."
Fiyero raised a brow. "This is suspiciously thoughtful of you."
Glinda rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up and drink your coffee."
She glanced around the stadium, expecting to see Elphaba somewhere, but the team was already warming up on the track. Her stomach twisted, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed.
The boys were too busy inhaling their food to notice. They chatted around her, laughing and making bets on Elphaba’s placement, but Glinda only half-listened. Her eyes kept flicking to the track, scanning the runners, waiting.
And when the race finally started—when she saw Elphaba moving, her long strides powerful and relentless—Glinda felt something strange settle in her chest. Like she was holding her breath.
Glinda had seen Elphaba move before—walking through the halls, slinking away from conversations, disappearing when she didn’t want to be seen. But this was different.
On the track, she wasn’t avoiding or retreating. She was racing.
Glinda watched, barely aware of the boys yelling beside her, their voices blending into the roar of the crowd. Elphaba was ahead, long strides precise, effortless. It was almost frustrating how good she was.
And then—it was over.
First place.
The announcer’s voice confirmed it, but Glinda had already known. Of course she won.
Boq and the others were already on their feet, whooping and cheering. Crope waved a ridiculous handmade sign that said WICKED FAST in bold letters, and Tibbett was practically vibrating with excitement.
Glinda clapped too, though not as wildly as the others. She couldn’t stop staring at Elphaba as she slowed her pace, catching her breath, nodding at her teammates’ congratulations.
She still hadn’t seen Glinda.
And that was fine. It wasn’t like Glinda had come for her specifically.
Right?
By the time Glinda found her, the adrenaline had worn off, and Elphaba looked done. She was standing near the edge of the field, stretching her calves, her usual scowl firmly back in place.
Glinda hesitated for only a second before stepping closer. "You didn’t even look tired."
Elphaba turned, blinking like she wasn’t entirely convinced Glinda was real. "You—wait, you came?"
Glinda scoffed. "Obviously."
Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "You said you weren’t a morning person."
"I’m not, " Glinda admitted. "But I figured I’d make an exception for a state champion."
Something flickered across Elphaba’s face—surprise, maybe. Or something Glinda couldn’t quite name.
"Huh," Elphaba muttered, shaking her head. "Well. That’s weird."
Glinda gasped dramatically. " Rude! I bring you coffee, cheer for you, and this is my reward?"
Elphaba smirked, reaching for the cup Glinda was still holding. "You brought coffee?"
"Obviously." Glinda handed it over, watching as Elphaba took a sip. "Black, because I don’t know what you actually like."
Elphaba hummed in approval. "Not bad, princess."
Glinda rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the warmth creeping into her chest.
She had shown up. And Elphaba had noticed.
Elphaba hadn’t thought about her family all morning.
Which, in itself, was a miracle. But as she made her way toward the locker rooms, still buzzing from the win, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out, already knowing what she’d see.
Frex: Congratulations. Your coach called me. We’ll discuss later.
Elphaba sighed, running a hand down her face. Of course he didn’t come. Of course he didn’t even pretend to care unless it was about appearances.
Another message came through.
Nessarose: Father was upset you ran on a Sunday, but I told him it wasn’t your choice. Shell says congrats. Call later?
Elphaba hesitated before typing back a quick: Sure.
She shoved her phone back into her pocket, shoulders tense as she reached the locker room door. The high from the race was already slipping away.
And when she stepped inside, Glinda was still there.
Elphaba blinked. "What are you still doing here?"
Glinda shrugged, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "Waiting for you, obviously."
Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
Glinda tilted her head. "Because you won. And because your friends all left, and I figured maybe you shouldn’t be alone with your thoughts just yet."
Elphaba scoffed. "I don’t need babysitting."
Glinda smirked. "I know. But humor me."
Elphaba stared at her for a moment before sighing and dropping onto the bench beside her. Maybe just for a little while.
Glinda leaned back against the lockers, watching Elphaba out of the corner of her eye. "So, what did your dad say?"
Elphaba let out a short laugh. "What do you think? He sent a text. Coach called him. He'll ‘discuss it later.’ Which means I'll get some condescending speech about priorities."
Glinda frowned. "But you won. Doesn’t that count for something?"
"Not to him." Elphaba sighed, rolling her shoulders. "He doesn’t care about what I do, only how it looks. And running on a Sunday? That’s basically a crime in his book."
Glinda was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "That’s stupid."
Elphaba blinked, caught off guard. "You don’t have to agree with me, you know."
Glinda shrugged. "I’m not. I’m just stating facts."
Elphaba huffed a laugh despite herself. "Well, I appreciate your honesty, I guess."
Glinda smiled, nudging her knee lightly against Elphaba’s. "You’re welcome."
A pause settled between them, comfortable but charged. Glinda glanced at her hands, then back at Elphaba. "Do you ever wish things were different?"
Elphaba exhaled, staring at the ground. "All the time."
Another beat of silence.
"Me too," Glinda admitted.
They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t have to.
For the first time all day, Elphaba didn’t feel quite so alone.
Elphaba barely had time to think about what had just happened before Glinda was standing, brushing invisible dust off her leggings. "Come on."
Elphaba frowned. "Come on where?"
Glinda tilted her head toward the door. "I’m driving you home."
Elphaba blinked. "What? No, you’re not."
Glinda scoffed, already grabbing her bag. "Yes, I am. Your friends left, you clearly don’t want to call your dad, and I highly doubt you want to sit around here waiting for a ride. So, let’s go."
Elphaba hesitated. She should say no. She knew that. But instead, she sighed and stood. "Fine. But if you try to make small talk, I’m tucking and rolling out of the car."
Glinda grinned. "Duly noted."
The drive was quiet at first.
Not awkward, just… still. The kind of silence Elphaba didn’t mind. The sun was out, warm but not unbearable, and Glinda had the windows down just enough to let the breeze in. The air smelled like autumn—crisp, fresh, like something was shifting.
And then—
"Do you even like running?" Glinda asked suddenly, eyes still on the road.
Elphaba huffed a laugh. "Loaded question."
Glinda shot her a look. "I’m serious. You’re ridiculously good at it. But you always look like you hate every second."
Elphaba sighed, stretching her legs out. "I don’t hate it. It’s just… something I do. Something I’m good at."
"That doesn’t mean you have to like it."
Elphaba glanced at her. "Yeah? And what about you? Do you like cheer?"
Glinda was quiet for a second, then smiled faintly. "I love it. But not for the reasons people think."
Elphaba raised a brow. "Which are?"
Glinda shrugged, eyes flickering toward the side mirror. "People assume I love the attention, the spotlight. And maybe I did, at first. But it’s more than that. It’s the control of it all. The routines, the precision, the knowing that if I nail a routine, everything feels… right."
Elphaba didn’t say anything at first, just watched as Glinda’s fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel.
Then, quietly—"I get that."
Glinda glanced at her, something flickering behind her eyes. "Yeah?"
Elphaba nodded, staring out the window. "Running’s the same for me. It’s not fun, but it’s clear. When I run, I know exactly what I need to do. It’s just me and the track. No expectations. No pressure to be anything else. Just… movement."
Glinda was silent for a long moment. Then—
"That’s kind of beautiful, you know."
Elphaba snorted. "Don’t get sentimental on me, blondie."
Glinda laughed, shaking her head. "Too late."
The car slowed as they reached Elphaba’s house— Thropp Manor , grand and cold even in the afternoon sun. Glinda pulled up to the front, shifting into park before looking over at her. "You gonna be okay?"
Elphaba let out a breath, staring up at the house. "I always am."
Glinda frowned like she wanted to say something, but she just nodded. "Alright."
Elphaba reached for the door handle, hesitated, then turned back. "Thanks for the ride."
Glinda smiled. "Anytime."
Elphaba stepped out, shutting the door behind her. But as she walked up the path, she could still feel Glinda’s gaze on her—steady, warm, like she was still waiting for something.
Elphaba barely had time to take a breath before the front door swung open.
"Took you long enough," Nessarose said, sitting stiffly in her wheelchair just inside the grand foyer. Her eyes flicked over Elphaba’s disheveled appearance, her damp hair sticking to her neck from the race, and the way she lingered on the doorstep as if she didn’t want to come in.
"Nice to see you too, Nessa," Elphaba muttered, stepping inside. The cool air of the house wrapped around her like a shroud, starkly different from the warmth of the sun outside.
"Father’s in his office," Nessa continued, her voice tight. "He wants to speak with you."
Of course he did. Elphaba sighed, running a hand down her face before pushing forward. She passed through the long corridors, the polished floors echoing beneath her every step, until she reached the heavy oak doors of Frex’s office. For a brief second, she considered turning around, walking right back outside—but before she could decide, the doors opened.
"Elphaba," Frex said, his voice even, unreadable. "Come in."
She stepped inside, keeping her posture straight but her hands curled into fists at her sides. The office smelled like old books and ink, the curtains drawn to keep out the light. Frex sat behind his massive desk, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was obvious.
"I hear you won today," he said, tapping his fingers against the desk.
"I did," Elphaba replied evenly.
Frex exhaled sharply through his nose. "But, you chose to disgrace this family by competing on a Sunday."
Elphaba clenched her jaw. "I didn’t choose the schedule."
"You could have refused."
She scoffed. "Right. Because that would have gone over well with my coach."
Frex’s gaze sharpened. "Do you think your coach’s approval is more important than your integrity? Than your faith?"
Elphaba let out a bitter laugh. "Integrity? You mean the kind that only applies when it suits your public image?"
Frex’s face darkened. "Watch your tone."
Elphaba bit her tongue, forcing herself to breathe through her nose. She had been through this argument before. She knew how it ended.
"You are reckless, Elphaba. Stubborn. Always defying what is expected of you. And one day, that will catch up with you."
She met his gaze without flinching. "Maybe it already has."
A tense silence stretched between them. Frex exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before waving a dismissive hand. "Go clean yourself up. I have no more to say."
Elphaba turned on her heel and walked out without another word, her pulse hammering in her ears. When she reached the hallway, Nessarose was still there, watching her.
"You shouldn’t provoke him," Nessa murmured.
Elphaba let out a humorless laugh. "Why not? He never listens anyway."
Nessa pursed her lips but didn’t argue.
Elphaba exhaled, forcing the tension from her shoulders. "I’ll be upstairs."
And with that, she climbed the stairs, the weight of her father’s words settling deep in her chest.
But somehow, she wasn’t thinking about him.
She was thinking about the girl who had driven her home.
Chapter Text
Elphaba stared at the screen longer than she should have.
Glinda: I think I like talking to you.
She knew she should just say goodnight. Shouldn’t let this go anywhere else. But instead, her fingers moved before her brain could stop them.
Elphaba: That’s a dangerous thing to admit.
Glinda: I know. But it’s true.
Elphaba hesitated, debating what to say next, when suddenly, her screen lit up with an incoming call.
From Glinda.
Her heart stuttered. She almost let it ring out—almost pretended she hadn’t seen it. But then, without thinking, she hit accept.
Glinda’s face filled the screen, dimly lit from her bedside lamp, her hair a little messy, eyes tired but bright. "Well, this is weird."
Elphaba smirked, propping her phone against her pillow. "And yet, you called me."
Glinda huffed. "You weren’t saying anything, and I got impatient."
Elphaba rolled her eyes, shifting onto her side. "Of course you did."
They settled into the quiet after that, the hum of the call filling the space between them. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was… nice. Easy.
"So," Glinda said after a minute. "What do you even do when you can’t sleep?"
Elphaba smirked. "Read. Think. Stare at my ceiling and question my existence. The usual."
Glinda giggled, pulling her blanket up to her chin. "Sounds thrilling."
"And what about you, Princess? What do you do?"
Glinda hummed, her eyes fluttering slightly. "Usually? I scroll through my phone until I pass out. But apparently, now I video call you."
Elphaba raised a brow. "Big upgrade for you."
"Oh, definitely," Glinda murmured, voice softer now. "New favorite pastime."
Elphaba didn’t have a response for that. Didn’t know what to do with the warmth curling in her chest.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. Glinda’s eyes were drifting closed, her breathing evening out, and Elphaba realized—
She was falling asleep.
Elphaba watched her for a moment, something unfamiliar tightening in her throat. "Glinda?"
A soft hum in response, barely awake.
Elphaba exhaled, settling deeper into her pillow. "Goodnight."
She didn’t expect an answer. But then—
"Night, Elphie."
The nickname was barely a whisper, slurred with exhaustion, but Elphaba heard it.
Her breath caught, but she didn’t say anything. Just watched as Glinda fully drifted off, her face relaxed, peaceful.
Elphaba woke up to the soft sound of breathing in her ear.
For a moment, she was disoriented. The room was dim, early morning light filtering through her curtains, and she was warm , her pillow unusually comfortable. But then her brain caught up—
Her phone was still on. The call was still connected.
And on the screen, Glinda was still there.
Elphaba froze. The video had cut out at some point, but the audio remained, Glinda’s breathing steady, peaceful. The familiarity of it made something tighten in her chest.
She should hang up. That was the obvious choice.
But instead, she hesitated.
Then—
A sleepy mumble, barely audible. "Mmm… morning, Elphie."
Elphaba’s stomach flipped.
She shut her eyes briefly, inhaling sharply before muttering, "So we’re sticking to that nickname now?"
Glinda hummed softly, shifting against her pillow. "Mhm. ‘Suits you."
Elphaba rolled onto her back, rubbing a hand down her face. This was dangerous. This was very, very dangerous.
"You’re a menace," she muttered.
Glinda giggled sleepily. "Told you."
The silence stretched again, this time different. Softer.
Elphaba licked her lips, staring at the ceiling. "Go back to sleep, Blondie."
Glinda hummed again, voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, Elphie, you too."
And Oz help her— Elphaba didn’t hang up.
Elphaba’s phone buzzed as she sipped her coffee, the cafeteria half-full with students sluggishly preparing for the school day.
Glinda: Mornings are cruel. Fix them.
Elphaba smirked. She texted first.
Elphaba: I’ll have the sun rise at noon next time.
Glinda: That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said.
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. This was getting dangerous.
Homeroom was fine until Tibbett leaned in and whispered, "You’ve been smiling like an idiot all morning."
Elphaba scoffed. "I don’t smile."
"Uh-huh." Crope wiggled his brows. "Wouldn’t have anything to do with certain texts, would it?"
Elphaba stared blankly. "You’re both delusional."
But Tibbett was grinning now. "No, no, this is fun. We’ve never seen you like this before."
Elphaba huffed. "There is no this ." But her phone buzzed again, and both of them pounced.
Across campus, Glinda was absolutely not thinking about Elphaba.
Pfannee had been talking for at least five minutes, but Glinda had barely processed a word—until her name was snapped in irritation.
"Glinda!" Pfannee hissed. "Are you even listening?"
Glinda blinked, tensing under the scrutiny. "Of course."
Pfannee’s eyes flickered toward the window—toward Elphaba, walking past.
And Glinda looked.
Just for a second. Just enough for Pfannee’s expression to darken.
"You have got to be joking."
Glinda snapped back. "What?"
"You’re looking for her. Again."
"I was not —"
"Glinda." Pfannee’s voice was tight. "This is embarrassing."
Glinda flushed. "It’s not—"
"I swear, if I have to watch you ruin everything for some charity case, I will personally make your life miserable."
Glinda’s stomach dropped, but she forced a laugh. "Pfannee, don’t be ridiculous."
Pfannee’s gaze was sharp. "Then stop acting ridiculous."
Glinda swallowed hard.
Outside, Elphaba had no idea what was coming.
Chapter Text
Glinda felt sick.
All day, she’d done everything right. She’d smiled at all the right moments, laughed at Pfannee’s jokes, acted like everything was fine. She’d sat at lunch with her usual crowd, pretending the air wasn’t too thick, pretending her stomach wasn’t twisting every time she stopped talking long enough to think.
She didn’t look at Elphaba.
Not once.
And somehow, that made it worse.
By the time she got home, the exhaustion hit like a brick. She went through the motions—dinner, shower, staring at her homework without absorbing a single word. Everything felt wrong. Tight. Suffocating.
Her phone was right there.
She shouldn’t do this. She should go to bed, wake up, push through it.
Instead—her fingers moved before her brain could stop them.
Glinda: I can’t be here right now.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t casual. But she didn’t care.
Her phone buzzed almost instantly.
Elphaba: Where are you?
Glinda swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected that.
Glinda: My house. But I don’t want to be.
There was no hesitation this time.
Elphaba: Be outside in five minutes.
Glinda wasn’t sure what she expected, but Elphaba pulling up in her car at exactly five minutes on the dot? That did something to her.
She climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door softly, hands gripping her phone tightly in her lap. She felt wired, restless, like she could come undone at any second.
Elphaba didn’t ask questions. She just drove, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gear shift.
The streets were quiet, the world asleep, but inside the car, it felt like everything was moving too fast.
After a long stretch of silence, Elphaba finally spoke. "You want to tell me what’s going on?"
Glinda let out a breath, shaking her head. "Not really."
Elphaba nodded like she understood. Like she wasn’t going to push. "Okay."
More silence. More tension. More weight between them.
"I just needed to get out," Glinda admitted eventually. "I don’t know why."
Elphaba hummed, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. "I get it."
And maybe that was the problem— that Elphaba always got it.
Glinda turned her head, studying her profile in the dim light. The strong line of her jaw, the way her hands gripped the wheel, steady and sure. Like she was something solid. Something safe.
Elphaba pulled into a secluded parking lot, shifting the car into park. The hum of the engine faded, leaving only silence between them.
Glinda swallowed, the air thick, heavy. Her fingers curled against her thighs before she turned slightly in her seat, facing Elphaba fully.
"Elphie," she said before she could stop herself. Soft. Barely above a whisper.
Elphaba’s hands stilled on the wheel, knuckles going white. "Yeah?"
Glinda hesitated, heart hammering. Then, slowly, she unbuckled her seatbelt, shifting closer, tucking one leg beneath her as she turned in her seat, the center console pressing against her hip.
Elphaba turned her head, their faces inches apart now. The light from the dashboard cast shadows across her sharp features, her green skin glowing faintly in the dark.
Glinda’s breath caught. She wasn’t thinking anymore.
She leaned in, her fingers twitching where they hovered between them, like she wanted to reach out but didn’t dare.
Elphaba’s breath was slow, measured—but she wasn’t pulling away.
And then Glinda kissed her.
A soft press, hesitant at first, barely there—
Until Elphaba moved.
Her hands found Glinda’s waist, pulling her in. The kiss deepened, slow but certain, like neither of them wanted to stop.
The car was suddenly too small, too warm, too much.
And Elphaba—
Elphaba kissed her back.
Glinda felt like she was floating. Not in a good way.
She hadn’t slept. Not really.
Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that car—Elphaba’s hands warm on her waist, the taste of her lingering, the space between them evaporating into nothing.
And now it was morning. And she had to see her.
By the time she got to school, everything felt too loud. The halls buzzed with their usual energy, but it all blurred together, an indistinct hum against the pounding in her chest.
She spotted Elphaba before Elphaba spotted her.
She was at her locker, alone, flipping through a book with a careful kind of focus that Glinda now recognized as avoidance. Her posture was relaxed—too relaxed. Like she was trying not to look up.
Glinda lingered for a second too long before turning away, pulse hammering.
She wasn’t ready. Not with Pfannee and Shenshen at her side, not with Milla’s knowing glances. They were catching on.
She spent the day pretending. Laughing, smiling, nodding along— but she wasn’t there.
It wasn’t until later—between classes, in an empty hallway—that she found her chance.
Glinda slipped past a group of students and caught Elphaba just as she was leaving the library.
"Hey." Her voice was quiet, breathless. Nervous.
Elphaba blinked, stopping mid-step. She glanced around, then tilted her head slightly. "Are we hiding?"
"A little," Glinda admitted, glancing over her shoulder. "I just…" She sighed. "Are we going to talk about last night?"
Elphaba studied her for a long moment before nodding, stepping into the alcove by the window, where the shadows stretched long. Out of sight. Safer.
"Do you want to talk about last night?" Elphaba asked, voice low.
Glinda bit her lip. "I don’t know."
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, tilting her head. "You look like you didn’t sleep."
"I didn’t," Glinda admitted, barely above a whisper.
Elphaba hesitated, then—"Neither did I."
That shouldn’t have made her feel relieved.
And yet.
They stood there, tension thick, the quiet pressing in on all sides. Glinda wanted to reach for her. She didn’t.
Footsteps echoed down the hall—too close. Voices.
Glinda stiffened. Pfannee.
Elphaba caught the shift instantly. Without a word, she reached past Glinda, tugging the library door open. "In here."
Glinda didn’t hesitate.
The door shut behind them, the noise of the hallway muffled. They were alone. Close. Too close.
Elphaba leaned against the bookshelves, watching her carefully. "You’re not ready."
Glinda swallowed. "No."
Elphaba nodded, like she already knew that. Like she wasn’t going to push.
"We’ll talk later," she said instead, voice steady.
Glinda nodded, too quickly, before slipping back into the hallway like nothing had happened.
And Elphaba—
Elphaba let her go.
Glinda knew they were watching her.
It had been happening all day—Pfannee’s sharp glances, Shenshen’s lingering stares, Milla’s quiet smirks. They knew something was off.
And she was trying. Oz, was she trying. Laughing when she was supposed to, chiming in at the right moments, flipping her hair and smiling and pretending like everything was fine.
But it wasn’t.
And Pfannee could tell.
"So," Pfannee drawled at lunch, tapping her manicured nails against the table. "Are you ever going to tell us what’s going on with you?"
Glinda blinked, barely catching the question. "What?"
"You’ve been weird." Shenshen arched a brow. "Distracted."
"Distant," Milla added, smirking. "It’s almost like you’ve got a little secret. "
Glinda’s stomach twisted. "That’s ridiculous."
"Is it?" Pfannee tilted her head. "Because I know I saw you sneaking off with her yesterday."
The air in Glinda’s lungs turned to stone. Too fast. Too sharp.
"Who?" she tried, forcing out a laugh.
Pfannee’s lips curled. "You know who."
Shenshen leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. "You wouldn’t actually be friends with Elphaba, right? I mean, come on."
"Right," Pfannee said, watching Glinda carefully. "You’d never do something so… pathetic."
Glinda’s pulse roared in her ears. The walls were closing in, shrinking, suffocating.
She should say something. She should defend herself. Defend Elphaba.
But she wasn’t ready.
So instead—she overcorrected. Too fast, too hard, too cruel.
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Please. You really think I’d waste my time on her?"
Silence.
For a second, it almost felt like it worked. Like she’d said the right thing, played the right role.
And then—
A shift. A weight. A presence behind her.
The blood drained from Glinda’s face.
Slowly, stiffly, she turned.
Elphaba stood just a few steps away, tray in hand, expression unreadable.
Glinda’s throat closed.
Elphaba didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. Didn’t so much as flinch.
She just held Glinda’s gaze for a single, heavy beat—then turned and walked away.
And Glinda—
Glinda felt like she was going to be sick.
Chapter Text
Glinda’s hands were shaking.
The second Elphaba walked away, something in her snapped. The air in the cafeteria felt too thick, the voices around her too sharp, and her heartbeat too loud.
She barely heard Pfannee’s next smug remark, barely registered the way Milla smirked like she’d won.
Because she hadn’t.
Glinda had just lost.
She pulled out her phone under the table, hands gripping it too tight as she typed.
Glinda: Elphie—
Glinda: Please answer me.
Glinda: I didn’t mean it.
Nothing.
She swallowed hard, shoving the phone into her lap, trying to school her expression into something that didn’t scream guilt.
The next class blurred together. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop replaying it in her head.
By the time the final bell rang, she was already dialing.
Straight to voicemail.
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
She tried again. And again. Nothing.
Elphaba was shutting her out.
And Glinda—
Glinda didn’t know how to fix it.
Glinda wasn’t panicking.
Not yet.
But the longer she searched, the more that sick, twisting feeling in her stomach grew.
Elphaba was nowhere.
She checked the library first. Empty.
The track? Vacant.
Locker room? Nothing.
She even swung by the parking lot, scanning for Elphaba’s car. Gone.
Her phone was still silent. Every call ignored. Every text left on read.
And then—
"Looking for someone?"
Glinda’s heart nearly stopped.
She turned to find Boq , watching her with a knowing look.
She forced a smile. "No. Just… had to grab something."
Boq didn’t look convinced. "You seem kind of frantic for someone who’s just grabbing something. "
Glinda shifted. "I’m fine."
"Right." Boq nodded slowly, then tipped his head toward the lot. "She left after lunch."
Glinda inhaled sharply. Of course she did.
"Not that you care or anything," Boq added, watching her way too closely.
Glinda turned away. "I have to go."
Glinda had spent all night replaying it, over and over.
Her own voice, sharp and cruel, ringing in her ears.
Please. You really think I’d waste my time on her?
She’d barely slept. She barely ate. None of it mattered.
Only one thing mattered. Fixing this.
And Elphaba wasn’t giving her the chance.
So, she took matters into her own hands.
She caught Elphaba before practice, cornering her in an empty classroom.
"Wait—" Glinda started, but Elphaba was already turning to leave.
"Elphaba, please."
That made her stop.
Slowly, Elphaba turned back. Her arms were crossed, expression unreadable, but her eyes were sharp. Tired. Hurt.
"I tried to talk to you," Glinda said, voice quieter than she meant. "You ignored me."
Elphaba let out a humorless laugh. "I didn’t want to hear it."
Glinda swallowed hard. "You don’t understand—"
"Oh, I understand," Elphaba interrupted, voice cold. "You panicked. You did what you had to do to save face. And in doing that, you made sure everyone knew exactly where I stand."
Glinda’s throat tightened. "That’s not—"
"You think I don’t know what self-preservation looks like?" Elphaba’s jaw clenched. "You think I haven’t lived that?"
Glinda’s breath hitched.
"I get it, Glinda," Elphaba continued, voice lower now. "I do. But it doesn’t change what you said. And it doesn’t change that you said it while they were laughing about me."
Glinda felt small.
She wanted to say something—anything—but what was left to say?
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "I just need some time."
Glinda bit her lip, voice barely above a whisper. "How much?"
Elphaba’s eyes softened. Just barely.
"I don’t know."
And with that, she walked away.
Glinda had never felt more alone in a crowd.
The rest of the week blurred by—classes, cheer practice, the usual routine—but Elphaba was missing from all of it.
She was still there, of course. Sitting in the same spots, walking the same halls. But Glinda wasn’t part of her world anymore. Not really.
And it was killing her.
Elphaba didn’t look at her. Didn’t acknowledge her.
Every time Glinda caught herself searching for her in a room, she had to force herself to stop.
Every time she almost texted, she had to put her phone away.
By Friday, she was exhausted. Fractured.
The game should have been a distraction. Should have been easy.
They won, the crowd cheered, the team celebrated—but Glinda didn’t go to the party.
She couldn’t bring herself to pretend she was fine.
Instead, she drove home, went through the motions, and curled up in bed, staring at her phone in the dark.
And then—
Her screen lit up. Incoming video call.
Her breath caught.
Elphaba.
For a second, she hesitated.
Then, before she could think too hard about it—
She answered.
Elphaba’s face appeared on the screen, dim lighting casting soft shadows across her features. She looked tired, hesitant, maybe even a little nervous.
Glinda swallowed. "Elphie."
Elphaba exhaled, shifting slightly. "You didn’t go to the party."
Glinda huffed a laugh, something weak, brittle. "Guess we had the same idea."
Elphaba didn’t smile, but something in her expression unclenched.
A pause. Quiet. Loaded.
"I just..." Elphaba hesitated, then sighed. "I don’t know why I called."
Glinda’s chest tightened. "I’m glad you did."
Another pause. Another shift.
And then—
"Can we just... talk?" Elphaba’s voice was soft, like she was still figuring it out as she said it.
Glinda nodded. "Yeah. We can talk."
And just like that—
She wasn’t alone anymore.
Glinda didn’t hesitate this time.
The moment she ended the call, she grabbed her keys and slipped out of the house, heart hammering as she drove toward Elphaba’s place. She didn’t second-guess herself, didn’t think about what she was doing—she just needed to see her.
When she pulled up outside, Elphaba was already waiting by the curb, arms crossed, face unreadable. The streetlights cast long shadows over her frame, highlighting the sharp angles of her face, the tension in her shoulders.
Glinda rolled down the window. "Get in."
Elphaba hesitated for a second before exhaling, then slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door softly. She didn’t look at Glinda right away, just stared straight ahead, fingers drumming lightly against her thigh. The quiet between them wasn’t tense anymore—just uncertain.
"I needed to see you," Glinda admitted, gripping the steering wheel, voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk."
Elphaba nodded, glancing out the window before sighing. "Yeah. We do."
Glinda pulled out of the driveway and drove, neither of them saying a word until they reached the empty parking lot of the high school. She parked under a dim streetlamp, cutting the engine, but neither of them moved to leave the car.
Finally, Glinda turned toward her. "I’m not ready," she said, her voice softer than she meant. "To be… out."
Elphaba studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she nodded. "I figured."
Glinda’s chest tightened. "I don’t want to hide you, but I—"
"You don’t have to explain," Elphaba cut in, voice even. "I get it. And I don’t care if people know about me." She shrugged, forcing a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Like I ever did."
Glinda frowned. "But you do care."
Elphaba exhaled sharply through her nose, tilting her head against the seat. "Maybe a little. But not enough to make this harder for you."
Glinda bit her lip, looking down at her hands resting in her lap. "I won’t ever talk badly about you again. That won’t happen."
Elphaba nodded, gaze flickering toward her. "Good."
"But…" Glinda hesitated, guilt pooling in her stomach. "I might need time before I start standing up to Pfannee and the others."
Elphaba’s gaze softened, and this time, she didn’t argue. "I know."
Glinda swallowed past the lump in her throat. "But I will. "
A beat of silence. The streetlamp buzzed faintly outside, throwing shadows across the dashboard. The space between them changed.
Glinda reached out slowly, hesitantly, her fingers grazing Elphaba’s wrist. The touch was soft, careful, questioning.
Elphaba’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her hand over, letting their fingers brush, then slowly interlaced them.
Glinda inhaled sharply, glancing down at their joined hands, then back up at Elphaba, searching her expression. "Is this okay?"
Elphaba swallowed. "Yeah."
Glinda bit her lip. "I don’t know what I’m doing."
A small, almost imperceptible smile flickered over Elphaba’s lips. "Me neither."
The air between them shifted again.
Glinda’s eyes darted to Elphaba’s lips before she could stop herself. The tension between them thickened, heavy and charged. She didn’t know who moved first, only that the space between them disappeared.
Glinda tilted forward, her nose grazing Elphaba’s, her breath hitching as her free hand found the nape of Elphaba’s neck, fingers brushing against her braids.
Then, finally—
She kissed her.
It was tentative at first, hesitant, almost testing—
Until Elphaba responded, tilting her head, pulling Glinda in.
The kiss deepened, slow and warm, filled with every unsaid thing between them.
Glinda let out a soft breath against Elphaba’s lips as fingers tangled in her hair, her own hands sliding to Elphaba’s jaw, feeling the slight tremor beneath her fingertips.
Elphaba shifted slightly, turning in her seat as much as the cramped car would allow, one hand firm on Glinda’s waist, grounding her.
Glinda pressed forward, her back arching as she let herself get lost in it.
The world outside the car didn’t exist. Just this. Just them.
Neither of them moved.
The car was quiet , save for the sound of their breathing, still unsteady, still tangled with something unspoken.
Glinda’s fingers rested lightly against Elphaba’s jaw, her thumb brushing over smooth green skin. Neither of them spoke, but neither of them pulled away, either.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the silence wasn’t heavy—it just was.
Elphaba exhaled, leaning back against the seat, head tilting toward the window, but she didn’t let go of Glinda’s hand.
"I don’t want to go home," Glinda murmured.
Elphaba let out a quiet breath, something like a tired laugh. "Me neither."
Glinda studied her, fingers idly playing with one of her braids. "You don’t talk about home much."
Elphaba gave a small shrug. "Not much to talk about."
Glinda frowned, but didn’t push. Instead, she just held on.
"I should get you home," Glinda murmured, voice reluctant.
Elphaba nodded but didn’t move. Didn’t let go.
Glinda sighed, squeezing her hand once before finally— reluctantly—letting go.
She started the car, the low hum filling the space between them as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Elphaba’s house. Neither of them spoke, but there was an understanding in the silence— something unspoken, something lingering.
When they reached Elphaba’s place, Glinda put the car in park but didn’t unlock the doors right away. She looked over, finding Elphaba watching her, expression unreadable in the dim light.
"Glinda."
She paused, heart skipping. "Yeah?"
Elphaba hesitated, then just said, "Drive safe."
Glinda smiled softly. "Goodnight, Elphie."
Elphaba opened the door, stepping out into the night. She hesitated for a second longer before closing it behind her, disappearing into the shadows of her house.
And just like that—
Glinda was alone again.
Chapter Text
Elphaba barely got five steps into school before she was ambushed.
"Okay, you’ve been weird," Crope announced, falling into step beside her.
"She’s always weird," Tibbett added, slinging an arm over Crope’s shoulder. "But this? This is a new level of weird."
Elphaba sighed. "It’s seven in the morning. I don’t have the energy for this."
"You don’t have the energy?" Boq piped up, adjusting the strap of his bag. "You look like you haven’t slept."
Elphaba rolled her eyes, tugging at the collar of her pressed white button-up—part of the mandatory school uniform she had always loathed. "That’s just my face."
"Liar," Crope sing-songed. "Something happened last night. Spill."
Elphaba kept her expression neutral, pulling open her locker and ignoring their curious stares.
"If you must know, I spent the evening in deep contemplation about our flawed academic system and the overall bleak nature of society."
Tibbett snorted. "Oh, so you did hook up with someone."
Elphaba slammed her locker shut, sending them all a flat look. "You’re all unbearable."
Boq smirked. "You like us."
Elphaba did not dignify that with a response. "Don’t you all have rehearsal or practice or whatever it is you do after school?"
"We do," Crope grinned, "but that’s not happening until later, sooooo—"
"Leave me alone," Elphaba finished for him, already turning on her heel.
"Not a chance."
Tibbett grinned. "Come on, let’s talk about something less emotionally revealing. "
"Like?"
"Like our actual activities?" Boq suggested. "Since you never listen."
"I listen," Elphaba argued, shoving her hands in her blazer pockets. "It’s just rarely worth remembering."
Crope threw a hand over his heart dramatically. "You wound me."
"Alright, you gremlins, get on with it," Elphaba sighed, exasperated but… fond.
"Fine," Tibbett said. " Boq’s still perfecting his monologue for the winter production, Crope and I have a duet to rehearse, and we’re still trying to convince our lovely green friend here to actually come watch us perform. "
Elphaba groaned. "Fine. I’ll go. But if it’s terrible, I reserve the right to complain the entire time."
"You love musicals," Crope said, pointing a finger at her.
"I love mocking musicals."
"Uh-huh."
Boq grinned, nudging her. "What about you? Track still running your life?"
Elphaba shrugged. "Won state. Coach is already talking about regionals."
"And you’re still in the habit of sneaking out to brood on your own?" Crope asked.
Elphaba scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I don’t brood."
"Right, right," Tibbett teased. "Just let us know if you ever need to sneak out for… reasons. "
Elphaba shoved his shoulder. "Shut up."
Crope and Tibbett giggled.
Boq sighed dramatically. "I can’t believe we still don’t know your secrets."
Elphaba smirked as they approached their first period classroom. "Then I must be doing something right."
But the teasing didn’t stop there.
And neither did the glances from the boys.
The semester was finally winding down, but that didn’t mean things were getting easier. Midterms loomed over them like a dark cloud, stress levels running high as students filled the library and study halls with last-minute cramming.
Glinda was barely holding it together.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t smart—she had great grades, always had—but balancing cheer, social life, family pressure, and now whatever was happening with Elphaba was proving to be a lot.
And speaking of Elphaba—
She wasn’t faring much better.
"You look like you haven’t slept in a week," Boq noted as Elphaba dropped into her usual seat at their study table, tossing her bag down with a sigh.
"Midterms. Regionals. The general suffering of existence," Elphaba deadpanned, rubbing her temple. "Take your pick."
"All of the above?" Crope suggested with a grin, flipping through his notes. "I personally love midterms. It’s like a fun little game to see how much I can procrastinate before it actually kills me."
Tibbett snorted. "Sounds about right."
Elphaba just groaned, flipping open her textbook as if sheer force of will could absorb the information into her brain.
Across the library, Glinda sat with Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla, but she wasn’t paying attention.
Her gaze kept flickering toward Elphaba’s table, watching the way she chewed on the end of her pen, scowled at her notes, or occasionally bickered with Boq.
She was ridiculous. And stupidly attractive. And it was distracting.
"You’re staring again," Pfannee muttered under her breath, not even looking up from her textbook.
Glinda’s face heated. "I’m not."
"You are," Shenshen sing-songed. "What’s so fascinating about the loner table, anyway?"
Glinda huffed, flipping a page aggressively. "Nothing."
Pfannee gave her a knowing look but let it drop. For now.
As the week dragged on, the exhaustion hit everyone harder.
By the time Friday rolled around, the last of the midterms were turned in, students dragging themselves out of classrooms like war survivors.
"I think I forgot how to read," Crope mumbled, dramatically slumping against a locker.
"I think I forgot how to live," Boq corrected.
Elphaba just exhaled, closing her locker with a dull thunk. "At least it’s over."
"Not just over—winter break is finally here," Fiyero announced, sliding into the conversation with his usual lazy grin. "No school. No midterms. Just four glorious weeks of freedom."
"Thank the Ozians," Tibbett muttered, rubbing his eyes. "I need sleep."
"I need food," Crope corrected.
Boq smirked. "I need all of you to stop complaining."
Elphaba was barely listening. Across the hall, Glinda caught her eye briefly before quickly looking away.
Elphaba didn’t know what to make of that.
She also didn’t know what to make of the fact that she had agreed to go to the musical.
"So, tomorrow night," Crope said, stretching. "Big outing. You’re still coming, right?"
Elphaba sighed. "Unfortunately."
"Oh, you’ll love it," Tibbett said, waving a hand. "Even if you don’t, we’ll love watching you suffer."
"Charming."
Fiyero arched a brow. "You’re actually going to a school event? I didn’t think you did fun."
Elphaba shot him a dry look. "It’s not by choice."
Crope nudged her. "And maybe, just maybe , a certain someone will be there, and you’ll—"
"Don’t finish that sentence if you value your life."
Crope just grinned.
"Anyway," Boq said, before the teasing could escalate," what’s everyone’s plan for winter break? Besides our legendary movie night sleepover, of course."
Tibbett sighed dramatically. "Sleeping. Eating. Avoiding my extended family. The usual."
"I’m being dragged to some fancy ski resort," Crope groaned. "I don’t even like skiing."
"I’ll be here," Boq added. "Just hanging out, hopefully doing nothing."
Fiyero grinned. “I was thinking we could do another movie night, at my place? Sleepover included?”
"The movie night," Crope emphasized. "A long-standing tradition of the finest films, the best snacks, and absolutely no sleep."
Tibbett smirked. "And the occasional fight about what we’re actually watching."
Boq turned to Elphaba. "And you? You’ll come to the movie night, right?"
Elphaba hesitated. "I—"
"You are coming to the movie night," Fiyero said, giving her a pointed look. "No arguing."
Elphaba sighed, already regretting it. "Fine."
Crope cheered. "Oh, this is going to be amazing. "
Elphaba rolled her eyes, but there was something lighter in the way she exhaled, something almost relieved as they all fell into step together, heading toward the front doors—
Toward break. Toward something new.
Chapter Text
The first day of winter break should have felt like relief. No midterms. No early mornings. No uniform. Just time to breathe.
But for Glinda, it felt more like being invisible.
She sat at the long, polished dining table, stirring the honey into her tea, waiting. Her parents had been gone before she even woke up. Important business meetings. Social events. The usual. She had barely gotten a text.
She should have been used to it.
Still, she had hoped, for once, that the first day of break might mean a slow breakfast together, a little attention.
Instead, the house was quiet. Too big. Too empty.
Her phone sat beside her untouched. The group chat with Pfannee and the others was filled with messages about break plans and shopping trips. She hadn’t answered. She didn’t want to.
She stared at her tea, swallowing the ache in her throat.
Across town, Elphaba wasn’t enjoying the silence of home—because there was none.
"Fabala, if you would just listen to me—"
Elphaba clenched her jaw as her father’s voice cut through the breakfast table.
Frex sat at the head, untouched coffee growing cold beside his open newspaper. Nessarose sat beside him, prim as ever, her wheelchair tucked neatly against the table.
"I did listen," Elphaba said tightly, barely touching the food on her plate. "I just don’t agree."
Frex sighed, heavy and disappointed. "I don’t understand why you insist on wasting time with this… track nonsense when you could be focusing on something meaningful."
Elphaba’s fingers curled into fists beneath the table. "I enjoy it."
"Enjoyment is not a priority. You should be thinking about your future. About—"
"About what you want me to do," Elphaba snapped, her voice sharper than she intended.
Frex stiffened. Nessarose frowned disapprovingly. "Don’t talk to him like that."
Elphaba exhaled, pressing her temples. "May I be excused?"
Frex waved a hand, dismissing her. "Do what you want. You always do."
Elphaba stood quickly, grabbing her plate and heading to the sink. She dumped the barely eaten food and left the kitchen without another word. She needed air. She needed space.
Outside, she leaned against the porch railing, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
And for some reason, her mind drifted to Glinda.
She wondered what her morning had looked like. What she was doing. If she was thinking about her, too.
Glinda had been staring at the ceiling for an hour.
She had tried everything—reading, listening to music, scrolling through her phone—but nothing helped. The house was quiet, too quiet, and the absence of noise only made her thoughts louder.
She grabbed her phone again, thumb hovering over her messages.
She hadn’t texted Elphaba since before break started. It felt weird.
Would she even care if I did? Glinda thought. Would it seem too obvious ?
She hesitated, then finally, she typed: Break feels weird.
She stared at the message. Debated deleting it.
Before she could, her phone buzzed.
Elphaba: Agreed.
Glinda blinked. She hadn’t expected an answer. At least, not that fast.
A pause, then another text appeared:
Elphaba: Not used to this much time off. Kind of makes you think too much.
Glinda chewed her lip, debating her next move. This was the most casual they had ever texted. It felt… strangely nice.
Glinda: Exactly. I feel like I should be doing something, but I don’t even know what.
Another pause.
Elphaba: Same. I went for a run, nearly slipped on the ice, came home. That’s the highlight of my day.
Glinda actually laughed.
Glinda: Thrilling.
Elphaba: I know. My life is a constant adventure.
Glinda rolled onto her side, pulling her blanket closer. The texts weren’t much, but they felt easy, like something had shifted between them—something softer, less guarded.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Elphaba: The boys are still doing their sleepover.
Glinda hesitated.
She had heard Crope mention it in passing, but she hadn’t thought much of it.
Glinda: Yeah, I heard.
Another pause.
Elphaba: Do you want to come?
Glinda stared.
Her pulse jumped in a way that felt ridiculous . She swallowed hard before replying.
Glinda: Are you sure? I don’t think they’d want me there.
Elphaba: I’ll ask.
Glinda’s heart did something annoying.
Across town, Elphaba was already opening their group chat.
Elphaba: Hey. Can Glinda come to movie night?
The response was instant.
Crope: OH???
Tibbett: Excuse me??
Boq: She wants to come?
Fiyero: Do you want her to come? 👀
Elphaba sighed, typing:
Elphaba: Just answer the question.
Crope: Of COURSE she can come. We love drama.
Tibbett: It was never a boys-only thing anyway.
Fiyero: But also. Elphaba. Are we going to talk about this???
Elphaba ignored that.
She switched back to her texts with Glinda.
Elphaba: They said yes.
A beat. Then:
Glinda: Oh.
Glinda: Okay.
Glinda: I guess I’ll see you there, then.
Elphaba stared at the screen. Something about that response felt... loaded.
Elphaba: Guess so.
Neither of them texted again.
But neither of them stopped thinking about it, either.
Chapter Text
Elphaba pulled up in front of Glinda’s house, headlights cutting through the dark. She was ten minutes early, which was ridiculous, but she blamed the nerves for making her rush.
Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she stared at Glinda’s front door. This was stupid. It wasn’t like this was the first time they were hanging out.
But something about picking Glinda up, about the fact that she wanted her there, made this feel different.
Her phone buzzed.
Glinda: Coming out now. One sec.
Elphaba barely had time to respond before the front door swung open, and Glinda stepped out—wrapped in the fluffiest, softest-looking blanket Elphaba had ever seen, balancing a tote bag of snacks in one arm and a coffee cup in the other.
She looked ridiculous. And adorable. And ridiculously adorable.
Elphaba quickly averted her eyes as Glinda slid into the passenger seat.
"Hey," Glinda said, tucking the blanket around her lap as she settled in.
"Hey," Elphaba answered, pulling away from the curb. "You brought coffee?"
Glinda smiled, stirring it with a tiny straw. "Movie night essential."
Elphaba just hummed, eyes flicking toward Glinda’s freshly curled hair, perfectly done nails, the scent of vanilla and something expensive filling the car. She was so... put together. Too put together for a night with Crope and Tibbett.
"So, what exactly am I walking into?" Glinda asked, shifting in her seat.
Elphaba sighed. "Chaos."
Elphaba barely had time to shut her car door before Crope flung open the front door.
“A QUEEN HAS ARRIVED,” he announced dramatically, throwing out his arms.
Glinda blinked at him, then at Elphaba, who sighed, already regretting her life choices. “You invited this.”
“I didn’t invite that,” Elphaba muttered. “He just is.”
“Tragic,” Crope sighed. “Now, hurry inside before Tibbett drinks all the good stuff.”
The moment they stepped inside, the chaos hit full force.
Fiyero had somehow already procured too much alcohol. Boq was stress-eating chips in the kitchen while Tibbett sprawled across the couch, dramatically sipping from a red cup.
“Took you long enough,” Tibbett sighed, giving Glinda a once-over. “And she’s cute even in pajamas. Fantastic.”
Glinda had barely set down her tote bag before Crope and Tibbett descended on her, demanding gossip, fashion tips, and personal life details.
“I feel objectified,” she teased, dramatically clutching her chest.
“Get used to it, darling,” Crope said, looping an arm through hers. “Now tell us, what’s the real reason you graced us with your presence tonight?”
Glinda hesitated, glancing at Elphaba, who was busy digging through a bag of snacks, pretending not to listen.
“Maybe I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
The chaos had finally settled. Empty snack bags littered the floor, beer bottles and half-finished drinks scattered across the coffee table. Fiyero had passed out first, sprawled over the recliner. Tibbett and Crope had dramatically declared themselves ‘done for the night’ and collapsed onto the couch. Boq was still half-awake, mumbling about how they should clean up before Fiyero’s parents found the mess, but no one was listening.
Elphaba was tipsy.
Not completely drunk, but enough that the usual sharp edges of her personality had softened. Enough that she was warm and quiet and uncharacteristically relaxed.
And Glinda was painfully aware of it.
They were the only two still awake. Lying on the makeshift bedding they had put together, side by side on the floor.
Glinda had expected Elphaba to keep to herself, but instead, she had turned onto her side at some point, shifting closer. Her knee barely brushed against Glinda’s.
It had been subtle at first.
Then Elphaba had tucked her arm beneath her head and, after a moment, burrowed slightly into Glinda’s blanket.
Glinda froze. She wasn’t imagining it.
“Are you stealing my blanket?” Glinda whispered, amused.
Elphaba hummed, voice sleepy and slow. “You brought the softest one. Seems unfair.”
Glinda bit back a smile.
She wasn’t used to Elphaba like this— unguarded, touchy, just a little clingy.
For a moment, Glinda debated teasing her, but then Elphaba did something that nearly knocked the air out of her. She nuzzled her forehead lightly against Glinda’s shoulder.
It was quick. Barely anything.
But Glinda’s heart stopped.
“Elphie?” Glinda whispered.
Elphaba didn’t move for a moment. Then, slowly, she lifted her head, sleepy eyes blinking up at Glinda in the dim light.
“Mm?”
Glinda swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the warmth between them, of how Elphaba’s face was close enough that she could see the way her lashes brushed against her cheek.
Elphaba didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted closer, fingers curling into the fabric of Glinda’s sleeve.
Glinda’s breath caught. “You’re drunk.”
Elphaba hummed. “Just a little.”
A pause. Then—
“You’re really pretty,” Elphaba mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
Glinda stopped breathing.
Elphaba’s gaze flickered down to her lips for just a second— a second too long.
Glinda should have teased her for it. Should have laughed it off.
Instead, her fingers moved without thinking, brushing a loose braid back behind Elphaba’s ear.
The moment stretched thin.
Elphaba’s fingers, warm from the alcohol, drifted absentmindedly along Glinda’s side, the touch barely there, but enough. Enough for Glinda to feel the heat of her palm as it settled just beneath the hem of her sleep shirt, fingertips grazing against bare skin.
Glinda stiffened.
Elphaba didn’t seem to notice what she had done. Or maybe she did, because her grip stayed—gentle, absentminded, like she had every right to touch her this way.
Glinda swallowed, but before she could say anything, Elphaba exhaled against her shoulder and murmured, “You’re so soft.”
Glinda barely choked back a sound. “Elphie.”
Elphaba hummed, shifting a little, pressing her face into the fabric of Glinda’s sleeve. “Mhm?”
Glinda knew she should pull away. She should do something. But her body betrayed her, her stomach tightening at the lazy, absent touch against her waist. At the casual intimacy of it all.
Elphaba’s fingers curled slightly, just enough to press into Glinda’s skin like she was anchoring herself there.
Then, with a sudden, tipsy sort of realization, she murmured, “You’re spoiled.”
Glinda scoffed, shifting against the pillow. “Excuse me?”
Elphaba smirked, albeit sleepily, fingers still tracing idle circles at Glinda’s waist. “You are. You show up with the softest blanket, take all the attention, drink the best coffee—”
“Oh, so now I’m the villain?” Glinda whispered, half breathless, half amused, still hyper-aware of the hand resting against her waist.
Elphaba hummed, thumb brushing absently over Glinda’s skin. “Not a villain. Just... sweet.”
Glinda barely had time to process that before Elphaba added, softer this time, “My sweet.”
Glinda scoffed. "You can't just nickname me after calling me spoiled. That's not how it works."
"Too late," Elphaba muttered, eyes slipping closed. "It suits you."
“My sweet.”
Elphaba’s lips brushed against hers.
It was gentle. Hesitant. Warm.
And it was over in an instant.
Elphaba blinked, as if realizing what she had just done. Her lips parted slightly, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.
Glinda didn’t let her pull away.
Instead, she caught Elphaba’s wrist, anchoring her there.
Elphaba’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening instinctively where they still rested against Glinda’s waist, her palm warm against bare skin.
Glinda swallowed, pulse thrumming in her throat. “Do that again,” she whispered.
Elphaba’s lips parted slightly, as if surprised, but she didn’t hesitate this time. She kissed her again, deeper this time, lingering.
Glinda barely held back a sound when Elphaba’s hand slid just a little further beneath her shirt, the slow drag of fingertips tracing along her hip, hesitant but deliberate.
Elphaba pressed forward, their bodies barely separated now, her hand spanning the curve of Glinda’s waist, thumb stroking absently against soft skin.
Glinda melted.
It wasn’t just the way Elphaba kissed her, slow and searching, like she was memorizing the shape of her mouth. It was the way she touched her—like it was second nature, like Glinda belonged against her, beneath her hands.
When they finally parted, Glinda barely had time to catch her breath before Elphaba murmured against her lips, “Told you. My sweet.”
Glinda had barely slept. Not really.
Elphaba had been warm and solid beside her all night, and even after she had drifted off, her presence lingered like an imprint against Glinda’s skin.
Sometime past three, Elphaba stirred.
Glinda wasn’t sure if she had woken up because of it, or if she had been watching her sleep long enough that she just happened to catch it. Either way, the room was still and quiet when Elphaba shifted, exhaling softly against Glinda’s shoulder.
Glinda swallowed, hesitant. Then, slowly, she reached out.
Her fingers skimmed over Elphaba’s cheek, brushing gently along the sharp lines of her face. The warmth of her skin under her touch felt unreal.
Elphaba sighed, leaning into it.
“Mm,” she mumbled, barely coherent. Then, barely above a whisper, “You okay?”
Glinda’s heart stuttered.
She hadn’t expected a response, much less one so soft.
“I—” Glinda hesitated, then whispered, “Yeah.”
Elphaba hummed in acknowledgment, but her eyes didn’t open. Instead, her hand found Glinda’s waist again, slipping under the fabric of her shirt without thought.
Glinda sucked in a breath.
“Elphie—”
A soft kiss, barely there, pressed against her shoulder. Then another.
Glinda’s fingers curled against Elphaba’s cheek, her thumb sweeping over the sharp edge of her cheekbone.
That made Elphaba stir more, her lashes fluttering slightly, lips parting against Glinda’s skin.
Glinda, not thinking, not stopping herself, leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead. Soft. Lingering. Real.
Elphaba’s eyes fluttered open, heavy and still laced with sleep.
Glinda froze.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then, slowly, Elphaba reached up, fingers brushing over Glinda’s wrist where it still cupped her face.
A quiet moment stretched between them. Then—
Elphaba smiled, barely there, and whispered, “Go to sleep, my sweet.”
Glinda, helpless to do anything but melt, exhaled a soft laugh before Elphaba leaned in and kissed her—slow and hazy and perfect.
And this time, Glinda let herself fall asleep smiling.
Elphaba woke up to warmth.
Her brain was foggy, slow to process. But the first thing she registered was the weight of a blanket draped over her. The second? The soft, steady rise and fall of breath right next to her.
Then it hit her.
She was still curled up against Glinda.
Her body stiffened instantly, eyes snapping open, heartbeat slamming in her ears.
Glinda was still asleep, curled onto her side, blonde hair fanned out across the pillow. Their legs were tangled, and Elphaba was still half-tucked into Glinda’s blanket.
Oh. Oh Oz.
Carefully— very carefully—Elphaba shifted, trying to untangle herself without waking her. Her movements were stiff, awkward, and probably not as subtle as she hoped.
The second she sat up, she met four pairs of very awake, very smug eyes.
Crope. Tibbett. Boq. Fiyero. All very much enjoying this.
Elphaba glared.
“Not a word.”
Crope, sprawled on the couch, sipped his coffee dramatically. "Who, us? We’re just enjoying a peaceful morning."
Tibbett grinned. “How did you sleep, Elphie?”
Boq snorted. Fiyero just smirked, not saying a word, but the look on his face said everything.
Elphaba ran a hand over her face. "I hate all of you."
She turned, glancing back at Glinda. She was still out, blissfully unaware of Elphaba’s internal crisis.
She needed to leave before this got worse.
Chapter Text
Elphaba focused on the road. Eyes straight ahead. Hands gripping the wheel. Act normal.
Glinda, however, was the exact opposite.
She was beaming.
“That was the best sleepover I’ve ever had.”
Elphaba exhaled sharply. "I don’t even remember half of it."
Glinda laughed. "Oh, I do. And I loved every second."
Elphaba glanced at her, suspicious. "You’re messing with me."
"I’m really not." Glinda leaned back in her seat, still grinning. "We should do it again."
Elphaba blinked. "Another sleepover?"
"Mhm." Glinda tilted her head, watching her. "Unless... you don’t want to?"
Elphaba could feel her heartbeat in her throat.
She looked back at the road. Grip tightening on the wheel.
"I... didn't say that."
Glinda’s smile softened. “Good.”
A pause. Then, teasingly— but with something quieter beneath it:
"Do you remember what you called me?"
Elphaba nearly swerved off the road.
"Oh my—STOP."
Glinda laughed, delighted.
Elphaba groaned, knuckles tightening around the wheel. "I was drunk."
Glinda smirked. "Oh, I know. But I think you meant it."
Elphaba shot her a look. "I think you're enjoying this way too much."
Glinda shrugged, feigning innocence. "Maybe. But it was cute. You were cute."
Elphaba inhaled sharply, turning her gaze back to the road. She refused to acknowledge the warmth creeping up her neck.
"Don't worry," Glinda added, her voice softer now, less teasing, more something else. "I liked it."
Elphaba hesitated, her grip on the wheel loosening just slightly.
And then Glinda reached across the center console, fingers brushing lightly against Elphaba’s wrist before settling over her hand.
Elphaba’s breath hitched. Her fingers twitched under Glinda’s touch, but she didn’t pull away.
Glinda’s thumb swept gently over her knuckles, warm and reassuring. Not teasing now. Just soft.
Elphaba swallowed. “You’re the worst.”
Glinda just smiled. “You don’t actually think that.”
Elphaba didn’t argue.
Glinda trailed behind Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla as they walked through the mall, bags in hand, voices high and sharp.
She wasn’t in the mood for this.
She didn’t want to fake a laugh or pretend to care about the latest gossip. And she definitely didn’t want to hear about—
“Did you see Elphaba at her last track meet?” Shenshen snickered, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “She looked ridiculous."
Milla groaned dramatically. “Like, why even try? It’s not like anyone cares.”
Pfannee smirked. “You think she even realizes how embarrassing she is? She’s such a loser.”
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
This wasn’t new. She had heard it a million times before. But for some reason, it felt different now.
Maybe because, just a few hours ago, Elphaba had been holding her.
Maybe because, for the first time, it actually made her mad.
But she didn’t say anything.
She just laughed— forced, hollow. It didn’t even sound right to her own ears. She could feel it, the way it didn’t quite land, the way it felt like wearing someone else’s skin. It used to be effortless, agreeing, blending in. But now, the words clung to her like something sour, something wrong.
For the first time, she felt embarrassed. Not of Elphaba, but of this. Of them. Of herself.
And hated herself for it.
Pfannee grinned. “There’s our girl. I was starting to think you went soft on us.”
“Oh, and did you see Fiyero hanging around them more lately?” Pfannee scoffed. “Honestly, I don’t know why he’s wasting his time.”
Shenshen smirked. “Maybe he likes being around freaks. I mean, he did date Glinda. Maybe it’s a pattern.”
Milla giggled. “You know, I always had a feeling about him. Something’s just... off. Like, he’s almost too friendly with Boq and Crope. I’m not even surprised he’s a fag.”
Pfannee snorted. “It’s disgusting isn’t it? He’s pathetic, but at least he’s got a more suitable friend group, they’re a walking pride parade.”
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
She didn’t move.
She didn’t speak.
She just stood there, the laughter around her sharp and grating.
It was too much. Too much all at once.
But she forced herself to laugh. Forced herself to smile.
And it felt so, so wrong.
Glinda’s smile faltered.
But she didn’t let it drop completely.
She didn’t let them see. Not here, not yet.
By the time Glinda got home she was fully panicking.
Glinda’s hands shook.
She could barely breathe, could barely think. The walls of her bedroom felt like they were closing in on her, and her heart was pounding too fast, too loud.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t keep doing this.
The laughter, the cruelty, the way she stood there and let it happen. It was all too much.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hands gripping her phone too tight.
And then, before she could stop herself, she called.
It barely rang twice before Elphaba answered.
“…Glinda?”
Glinda gasped. Just hearing her voice sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over her.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “Oh Oz, I’m so sorry.”
There was a pause. A sharp inhale. “…Glinda, what happened?”
Glinda sucked in a breath, but it hitched, uneven. She was sobbing now, really sobbing.
“I just—I let them—I didn’t say anything,” she choked out, words spilling too fast, too desperate. “They were so—so awful, and I just stood there, and I—I laughed—”
“Glinda,” Elphaba’s voice softened, but there was an edge of something worried, tense. “Where are you?”
Glinda pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking. “I hate it. I hate them. I hate me.”
“Stop.” Elphaba’s voice was firm now. “Where. Are. You.”
Glinda tried to speak, but nothing came out. A broken sob. A shaky breath.
“I- I’m home, I- I can’t—” Her voice broke.
“I can’t breathe, Elphaba. I can’t—I can’t do this anymore.”
Silence. Then— a sharp inhale on the other end.
“Glinda,” Elphaba’s voice was quieter now, but urgent. “Listen to me. Look at something— anything in your room. Count how many corners it has.”
Glinda hiccupped a breath. “I—I don’t know—”
“Yes, you do.” Elphaba’s voice was softer now, steadier. “Pick one thing. Just one.”
Glinda forced her blurry eyes to focus. Her vanity mirror.
“Four,” she whispered. “It—it has four.”
“Good,” Elphaba said immediately. “Now tell me how many colors you can see in it.”
Glinda exhaled shakily, blinking tears off her lashes.
She didn’t know how, but Elphaba’s voice was pulling her back.
A shaky breath. A whisper. “I see gold.”
“Good,” Elphaba murmured. “You’re okay. I’m coming.”
Elphaba arrived in record time.
She barely knocked before Glinda flung the door open, eyes swollen and red-rimmed. She looked— devastated.
Elphaba barely had time to step inside before Glinda collapsed against her.
A shuddering sob tore from Glinda’s throat, and Elphaba caught her, arms wrapping around her tightly.
Glinda buried her face in Elphaba’s neck, tears spilling hot and fast. She clung to her, desperate, trembling.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Elphie.”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, pressing her cheek against Glinda’s temple. “You don’t have to—”
“I do,” Glinda insisted, fisting Elphaba’s hoodie in her hands. “I let them—I laughed—I let them say those awful things, and I hate myself for it—”
Elphaba’s grip tightened. “Glinda.”
But Glinda couldn’t stop. Couldn’t hold back the flood.
“I don’t want to be like them,” she whispered, voice raw. “I don’t—”
Her sob hitched—sharp, breathless.
And Elphaba felt it. The sting.
Glinda’s tears burned.
A sharp, prickling heat where they touched her skin. A slow, creeping burn that grew the longer they stayed pressed together. But Elphaba didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
She just held her tighter.
Glinda’s body shook harder. Her hands fumbled, pulling back just enough to look at her.
And then she saw it.
Elphaba’s jaw tensed, her cheek and neck blotchy with faint, irritated marks.
Glinda’s stomach dropped.
It wasn’t just a rumor.
She had heard the whispers before, the ridiculous speculation about Elphaba’s “water allergy.” It always sounded absurd. An exaggeration. Something that got stretched out over time to make Elphaba seem even more other than people already thought she was.
But now—
Now she could see it.
Elphaba’s skin was angry and irritated where her tears had fallen, and it was because of her.
A fresh wave of guilt slammed into her.
“Oh, Elphie,” she breathed, horrified. “I—I’m hurting you—”
Elphaba shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” Glinda gasped, guilt crashing down on her. “Oh Oz, I—I didn’t mean—”
Her voice cracked. More tears welled in her eyes, but now she was too afraid to touch her.
Elphaba didn’t let her go.
She cupped Glinda’s face, thumbs brushing over tear-streaked skin. “Hey.”
Glinda blinked up at her, wide and glistening.
Elphaba held her steady. One hand still cradling her cheek, the other firm at her waist. Holding her together.
“You’re not like them,” Elphaba murmured, soft but firm. “And you never will be.”
Glinda sucked in a sharp breath, chest still rising and falling too fast.
Elphaba held her gaze. Grounded her.
“You’re okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Glinda collapsed into her all over again, sobs breaking open.
And this time, Elphaba let her cry. Even as her skin burned, even as the sting remained, she never pulled away.
She just held her. Because Glinda needed it more.
At some point, Glinda’s sobs slowed. Not entirely gone, but no longer wracking through her body like a storm.
Elphaba shifted, easing them onto the couch. Glinda didn’t protest when Elphaba pulled a blanket around her shoulders.
A beat of silence. Then, softly:
“Stay.”
Elphaba blinked. Glinda was still curled into her side, voice barely above a whisper.
Elphaba hesitated. “Glinda—”
“Just for a little while.” She sniffled, eyes pleading. “Please.”
Elphaba exhaled, giving in.
They sat like that for a while. The room quiet except for the occasional sniffle.
Eventually, Glinda stirred. “Tea?”
Elphaba quirked a brow. “You’re offering me tea?”
Glinda wiped her eyes. “It’s the least I can do.”
Elphaba huffed, but didn’t argue.
Glinda disappeared into the kitchen, and for the first time that night, Elphaba let herself breathe.
A few minutes later, Glinda returned with two steaming mugs, her hands still slightly unsteady. She handed one to Elphaba before sitting beside her again, closer this time.
They drank in comfortable silence. The storm had passed, but something had shifted.
After a long pause, Glinda finally spoke. “So it is really true? The thing about water?”
Elphaba set her mug down, glancing at Glinda. “Yeah.”
Glinda hesitated. “How bad is it?”
Elphaba sighed. “Bad enough.”
Glinda faced her fully, searching her face. “But, you can drink water.. you sweat? What about when you cry?”
Elphaba cleared her throat, biting her lip before nodding. “It’s a skin allergy, so water is fine to drink. Sweat stings just a little, but not enough to be painful. Crying.. crying hurts. Maybe cause it’s more concentrated to one area.” Elphaba shrugged and reached for her mug again.
Glinda nodded, absorbing that. “I thought it was just some weird rumor.”
A small, wry smile tugged at Elphaba’s lips. “Most people do.”
And neither of them were ready to move just yet.
Chapter Text
The Upland estate glittered like something out of a storybook. The grand halls were filled with socialites, politicians, and the elite of Gillikin, all dressed in their finest for the Upland’s annual Lurlinemas party.
Glinda had been trained for these nights since childhood—smiling, performing, being perfect.
But tonight? Tonight she was buzzing with something else entirely.
Because she had a secret.
Elphaba was coming.
The first text had been innocent enough:
Glinda: I wish you were here.
Then another:
Glinda: Actually, do you want to be here?
Then:
Glinda: I could sneak you in.
Elphaba had stared at her phone for far too long before typing back, You’re ridiculous.
Glinda: And yet, you haven’t said no.
Elphaba had absolutely intended to say no.
She should have said no.
But then, Glinda had called her. And Elphaba had picked up, despite herself, despite the fact that she knew Glinda had probably been drinking, and that whatever she was about to say was going to be dangerous.
“Pleaseeeee, Elphie,” Glinda had murmured into the receiver, voice low, coaxing, borderline spoiled. “Come keep me company. I hate it here.”
Elphaba had rolled her eyes. Tried to sound unaffected. “I hate it everywhere.”
Glinda had giggled, too delighted. “Then come hate it with me.”
And somehow, that was all it took.
Which was how Elphaba found herself sneaking in through the servant’s entrance, swearing under her breath at how deeply unhinged this entire situation was.
Elphaba barely made it up the stairs before Glinda was there, practically bouncing in place.
“You actually came!”
“Against my better judgment,” Elphaba muttered, glancing around suspiciously. “Tell me again why I agreed to this?”
Glinda grinned, unapologetic. “Because you like me.”
Elphaba scoffed. “Questionable.”
And then—
Glinda stepped fully into the light.
Elphaba’s thoughts short-circuited.
She had known Glinda would be dressed up. Had known, theoretically, that she would look nice. But she had not been prepared for this.
Glinda’s gown was a soft, shimmering gold, clinging in all the right places, sweeping along the floor in perfect folds. Her hair was curled, pinned up elegantly, but a few loose strands framed her face. She looked—
Untouchable.
And it made something in Elphaba ache.
She snapped her gaze away immediately, mortified by the warmth creeping up her neck.
Glinda’s lips curved.
“You’re staring,” she teased.
“I’m blinking,” Elphaba shot back, desperate to recover.
Glinda giggled, delighted. “You’re flustered.”
Elphaba scowled. “I am not.”
“You so are.” Glinda reached for her hand. Elphaba did not pull away.
“Come on,” Glinda whispered, tugging her along. “Let’s hide.”
The first sip burned, but Elphaba kept drinking.
Glinda, already tipsy from the event downstairs, was loose-limbed and giggling, cross-legged on her bed. Her gown pooled around her, her cheeks flushed from warmth and alcohol.
Elphaba sat on the floor, back against the bed , holding her drink awkwardly, fighting the urge to look at Glinda too much.
“This is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed this party,” Glinda admitted, voice soft.
Elphaba snorted. “Because you’re hiding from it.”
“Exactly.”
Silence stretched between them, comfortable, but thick with something else.
Elphaba was still trying to ignore how unfairly pretty Glinda looked, but her thoughts were warm, unfocused, and she was definitely tipsier than she intended to be.
Glinda turned her head, watching Elphaba with a look that made Elphaba’s stomach flip.
“I like having you here,” Glinda said, quiet, genuine.
Elphaba’s throat went dry.
She exhaled sharply. “You’re drunk.”
Glinda smirked. “Maybe. But that doesn’t make it untrue.”
Elphaba didn’t answer.
Didn’t trust herself to.
The door creaked open, and Elphaba froze.
Glinda didn’t. Instead, she sighed in deep relief.
“Ama,” she murmured. “I thought you were Mother.”
Elphaba glanced toward the doorway, where Ama Clutch stood, unimpressed.
“Miss Glinda,” Ama said, voice even. “You’ve smuggled in a guest.”
Glinda smiled innocently. “I got bored.”
Ama rolled her eyes but said nothing, stepping forward with a tray. Tea. Biscuits. Something grounding.
“You’re lucky I found you before Lady Larena did,” Ama muttered. “And lucky I won’t say a word.”
Elphaba exhaled, still wary. But Ama simply turned to her, studying her with mild curiosity.
Then, unexpectedly—
“Don’t keep her up all night, Miss Elphaba,” Ama said dryly before leaving the room.
Elphaba blinked, and Glinda giggled into her glass. “She likes you.”
Elphaba huffed.
The room felt smaller now. Warmer.
Elphaba let her head tilt back against the edge of the bed, her eyes fluttering shut. “I still think you tricked me into coming here.”
Glinda hummed, stretching out beside her on the floor. “Mm, no trickery. Just persuasion.”
Elphaba cracked an eye open. “Same thing.”
Glinda rolled onto her side, studying Elphaba. Then, after a pause:
“I was writing about you, you know.”
Elphaba stilled. “What?”
Glinda flushed, looking away. “My poetry.”
Elphaba turned toward her, really looking now.
Glinda let out a soft laugh, suddenly shy. “I—never mind.”
Elphaba’s heart skipped.
But she didn’t push.
Not yet.
Instead, she simply said, soft and certain: “I’d like to read it sometime.”
And Glinda’s breath hitched. But she nodded. Just once.
And for now, that was enough.
Silence stretched between them, comfortable, but thick with something else.
Glinda shifted, tipping forward onto her knees before suddenly, straddling Elphaba’s lap.
Elphaba’s breath hitched, hands instinctively finding Glinda’s waist.
“Glinda—”
Glinda cut her off with a kiss, soft but insistent, playful but aching. Elphaba hummed softly against her lips, fingers pressing into Glinda’s hips.
“You like me,” Glinda whispered between kisses, teasing, tipsy and warm.
Elphaba exhaled shakily, her pulse hammering. “You’re ridiculous.”
Glinda smirked, dragging her nails lightly against the back of Elphaba’s neck. “And yet, here you are.”
Elphaba let out a sharp breath, tilting her head back against the bed. “I should have said no.”
Glinda hummed, pressing another slow kiss to Elphaba’s jaw. “But you didn’t.”
For a long, breathless moment, they just looked at each other, neither pulling away.
Then, suddenly, Glinda’s expression shifted— nervous, but sure.
“I think I want to tell someone,” she murmured.
Elphaba blinked, stunned. “Tell someone?”
Glinda nodded, her fingers playing lightly at the hem of Elphaba’s sleeve. “About me, about us, you. I think I want to tell my ama.”
Elphaba exhaled, searching her face. “You’re sure?”
Glinda nodded. “I don’t want to hide everything. Not from her.”
Elphaba studied her for a long moment—then squeezed her waist, something fond in her gaze.
“Okay,” she murmured.
Glinda smiled— soft, breathless.
And Elphaba was completely gone for her.
Chapter Text
When she found Ama Clutch in the sitting room, hands pressed around a steaming cup of tea, Glinda hesitated—then sat in a chair across from her.
Ama didn’t even glance up. “Well?”
Glinda took a breath, exhaling shakily. “I—I need to tell you something.”
Ama finally looked at her.
Glinda’s fingers curled into the hem of her sleeve. “It’s… about someone.”
Ama eyed her carefully, then sighed, setting her tea down.
“I know, Duckie.”
Glinda froze. “You—?”
Ama nodded once, matter-of-fact. “You’ve been different lately. Happier. Distracted. I’d have to be blind not to notice.”
Glinda swallowed, throat tight. “You don’t think it’s…?”
“Wrong?” Ama finished for her. “No.”
Glinda’s breath hitched, eyes stinging as she let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Ama huffed softly, her eyes kind. “No one ever does.”
Glinda felt like she could breathe.
Elphaba knew the moment she sat down for breakfast that she was in trouble.
Frex barely looked up from his newspaper, but Nessarose had that smug little tilt to her lips, the one that meant she was about to enjoy whatever happened next.
“Elphaba,” she said, tone syrupy. “You’ve been out quite a lot this break.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, pushing her eggs around her plate. “It’s called having friends, Nessa. You should try it.”
Shell, sitting across from her, kicked her lightly under the table—a warning.
Frex folded the newspaper neatly and set it aside. “That’s what I’d like to discuss.”
Elphaba forced herself not to tense.
“You were out rather late last night,” he continued, voice measured. “I would’ve expected you to be more responsible than that.”
“I lost track of time,” she said smoothly, cutting her toast with deliberate focus.
“She got home fine,” Shell muttered, coming to her defense. “It’s break. Who cares?”
Frex ignored him. “I should hope you aren’t making a habit of this.” He took a slow sip of his tea. “That kind of behavior leads to… questionable influences.”
Elphaba’s grip on her fork tightened. “I can take care of myself.”
Frex studied her for a long, suffocating moment before finally nodding. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Nessarose delicately set down her cup, glancing at Elphaba with barely concealed curiosity. “So? Where were you?”
Elphaba hesitated for only a moment. “With Glinda.”
Silence.
Frex’s expression barely shifted, but his fingers tensed around the handle of his cup. Nessarose, however, blinked once before tilting her head. “Glinda Upland?”
Elphaba resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, Nessa. There’s only one.”
A slow, knowing smile curled on Nessarose’s lips. “Well. That’s interesting.”
Elphaba felt her stomach twist. “It’s not.”
“Oh, I think it is,” Nessarose murmured. “Glinda Upland, the perfect little society girl.” She stirred her tea idly. “This isn’t the first time you’ve taken an interest in a girl, is it?”
Elphaba’s chest tightened. “What are you talking about?”
Nessarose’s eyes gleamed. “Sarima.”
The fork in Elphaba’s hand stilled.
Frex set his cup down, his expression unreadable. “That was a long time ago.”
Elphaba clenched her jaw. “And yet, here we are,” Nessarose said, tone light but cutting.
Shell shot her a glare. “Drop it, Nessa.”
Nessarose only smiled, sipping her tea.
Elphaba pushed her plate away, appetite gone.
Elphaba needed to get out of the house.
She didn’t bother telling anyone where she was going. She just left.
It was freezing, but she barely noticed. Her mind was too loud. The conversation at breakfast wouldn’t stop replaying in her head— Frex’s disapproval, Nessarose’s knowing look, the weight of Sarima’s name hanging between them.
Sarima.
Elphaba inhaled sharply through her nose as she ran upstairs, pulling off her boots and changing into her running sneakers. She yanked on an old hoodie, tying her braids back before heading outside.
The cold hit her immediately, but she ignored it. She needed to move.
She was twelve. Too young to understand why it was wrong, why a single, clumsy kiss behind the greenhouse had changed everything.
Sarima had laughed afterward, brushing it off like it was nothing, like it was just a game. And for a second, Elphaba had believed her. Until their parents found out.
She could still hear Frex’s voice.
That is not the kind of girl you are, Elphaba.
Sarima was sent away within the week. Elphaba never saw her again.
She forced out a breath, blinking hard against the wind as she reached the edge of the estate. She needed to run. Needed to move.
So she did.
She ran until her lungs burned, until the memories blurred at the edges, until she wasn’t thinking about Frex or Nessarose or Sarima or Glinda or anything at all. Just the cold air in her throat, the steady pounding of her feet against the ground, the ache in her muscles that told her she was real, that she was here.
It wasn’t enough.
By the time she made it back to the house, her body was exhausted, but her mind was still racing. She was halfway up the stairs when Shell appeared at the top, watching her.
“You good?”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, bracing a hand on the banister. “Fine.”
Shell didn’t move. “You sure?”
Her chest was still rising and falling rapidly from the run. She didn’t answer.
Shell sighed, shifting his weight. “You know, just because they talk doesn’t mean they’re right.”
Elphaba’s fingers tightened around the railing. “Did I say they were?”
Shell didn’t push. He just studied her for a second, then shrugged. “Okay.”
But before he could walk away, Elphaba softened. “Hey,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Did you eat?”
Shell blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah.”
Elphaba gave him a knowing look. “A real meal or just something quick?”
Shell hesitated. “…Toast.”
Elphaba sighed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, I’ll make something.”
Shell looked surprised but didn’t argue.
Elphaba placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked toward the kitchen. “You gotta take care of yourself, Shell.”
Shell smirked. “You too.”
Elphaba huffed but didn’t fight it. She knew he was right.
Chapter Text
Elphaba had been pretending to study for the last hour, but the words weren’t sticking. Shell had already called her out for it, mumbling something about how she looked extra broody today, but left her alone when she shot him a glare.
The problem was, she had nothing to do. The boys had made plans without her—something about a last-minute rehearsal for Crope and Tibbett’s upcoming performance. Fiyero had invited her, but she had waved him off.
Now she was regretting it.
She wasn’t used to feeling restless.
So when her phone buzzed, she nearly knocked over her drink scrambling to grab it.
Glinda: Are you doing anything right now?
Elphaba stared at the text.
Then, before she could overthink it, she responded.
Elphaba: Not particularly.
There was a long pause before another message appeared.
Glinda: Want to meet up?
Elphaba tapped her fingers against the desk.
Her instinct was to say no. To keep the distance. To let whatever this was settle before it got worse.
But instead, she found herself typing:
Elphaba: Where?
The coffee shop Glinda picked was ridiculously over-decorated for Lurlinemas.
Elphaba walked in, immediately overwhelmed by the amount of gold ribbon and twinkling lights. The scent of cinnamon and spiced cocoa filled the air, making her nose wrinkle.
She spotted Glinda immediately— tucked away in a booth, stirring her drink absentmindedly.
Elphaba hesitated for half a second before walking over.
Glinda brightened when she saw her.
“You came,” she said, sounding far too pleased.
Elphaba slid into the seat across from her, shrugging. “Well, you bribed me with caffeine.”
Glinda giggled, nudging a second cup toward her. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”
Elphaba raised a brow. “Risky move.”
Glinda rested her chin in her hand, watching her. “I guessed right, didn’t I?”
Elphaba took a sip—black coffee, just how she liked it. Damn her.
She set the cup down, leaning back against the seat. “So, what’s this about?”
Glinda suddenly looked unsure.
She played with the edge of her sleeve before murmuring, “I just… I didn’t want to sit around today. And I figured if anyone else hates sitting around, it’s you.”
Elphaba stared at her, a little thrown.
She had expected something else. Expected this to be some kind of game, or an excuse, or an accident.
She hadn’t expected honesty.
She huffed, tearing a piece off the napkin in front of her. “I see. So I’m a last resort.”
Glinda gasped, dramatic. “You are absolutely not a last resort.”
Elphaba smirked. “Oh? Then what am I?”
Glinda faltered, face pinking just slightly.
Elphaba immediately regretted pushing.
But then Glinda rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation. “A tolerable option, I suppose.”
Elphaba let out a laugh. “Wow. Be still my heart.”
Glinda grinned, stirring her drink again, a little too focused on it.
Elphaba watched her, suddenly too aware of how comfortable this felt.
And how much that terrified her.
Elphaba wasn’t sure how she got roped into this.
It wasn’t a party, not really—just her, Glinda, and the boys gathering at Tibbett’s place for a low-key New Year’s Eve.
Glinda, of course, had insisted they go together.
So Elphaba had found herself pulling up outside the Upland estate, gripping the wheel tightly as she texted:
Elphaba: Here.
A minute later, the door opened, and there was Glinda— glowing in the porch light, wrapped in a soft, oversized coat, her hair falling in perfect waves.
Elphaba swallowed. Hard.
Glinda slid into the passenger seat, cheeks pink from the cold. “Hi.”
Elphaba cleared her throat, gripping the wheel tighter. “Hey.”
Glinda beamed, reaching across the console to squeeze Elphaba’s free hand. “Thanks for picking me up.”
Elphaba glanced at her, something warm curling in her stomach. “Yeah. No problem.”
Glinda didn’t let go right away.
By the time they arrived, the boys were already sprawled across Crope and Tibbett’s couch, drinks in hand, laughing about something ridiculous.
Boq raised a brow when Elphaba and Glinda stepped inside together, still holding hands. “So… this is happening, huh?”
Glinda smirked, brushing past him to grab a drink—but not before giving Elphaba’s fingers one last squeeze.
Tibbett smirked. “Took long enough.”
Elphaba scowled, but Glinda just plopped onto the couch next to her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was unsettling. How easy this all felt.
They played a drinking game. Crope made fun of Elphaba’s terrible attempt to mixing a cocktail. Fiyero spun some wild story about a disastrous winter ball he had attended back home. Everything was light. Easy. Fun.
But Elphaba’s thoughts kept drifting. To Glinda.
To the way her knee pressed against hers. To the way her fingers found Elphaba’s again, tracing lazy patterns against her palm.
To the fact that, somehow, Glinda had chosen to be here with her.
Somewhere along the way, Glinda ended up curled against Elphaba’s side.
It had started with a nudge, a teasing shoulder bump. Then, at some point, Glinda had just stayed.
Elphaba was acutely aware of every place their bodies touched.
And then—
“Ten seconds! ” Crope shouted, raising his drink.
Elphaba’s heart jumped.
Nine…
Glinda shifted, lifting her head to look at her, fingers finding Elphaba’s again.
Eight…
Elphaba’s pulse pounded in her ears.
Seven…
Glinda tilted her chin up, eyes flickering to Elphaba’s lips.
Six…
Elphaba swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Glinda’s.
Five…
Glinda leaned in, just enough that Elphaba could feel her breath against her skin.
Four…
Elphaba hesitated. Glinda didn’t.
Three…
A slow, deliberate closing of distance. Elphaba’s hand found its way to Glinda’s waist, fingers curling lightly against silk, while their other hands remained laced together.
Two…
“Kiss me, Elphie,” Their noses brushed, and Glinda smirked, just slightly.
One.
The kiss was soft. And then it wasn’t.
Elphaba responded before she could think, one hand slipping up to cradle the back of Glinda’s head. Glinda sighed into the kiss, melting against her like she had been waiting for this.
Elphaba deepened it instinctively, her body tilting into Glinda’s as the countdown faded into background noise.
Their hands stayed clasped between them, fingers still tangled as the kiss slowed.
They didn’t pull away immediately. Didn’t even move until—
“Oh, finally! ” Crope declared, throwing up his hands.
Tibbett whooped, Boq clapped dramatically, and Fiyero just smirked knowingly.
Glinda laughed against Elphaba’s lips before pulling back, her forehead resting lightly against hers.
Elphaba, dazed, could barely process anything.
“Happy New Year,” Glinda murmured, giving Elphaba’s hand another squeeze.
Elphaba huffed a soft laugh. “Yeah. I think it will be.”
The car ride home was quiet at first— but not uncomfortable.
Glinda was still smiling, glowing in the reflection of the passing streetlights.
Elphaba tapped her fingers against the wheel, stealing a glance at her. “So.”
Glinda hummed, looking over at her. “So?”
Elphaba hesitated. Then, cautiously: “Are we… like, a thing?”
Glinda blinked, then grinned.
“Well, duh.”
Elphaba huffed a laugh, shaking her head. Something warm spread in her chest, something terrifyingly close to relief.
Glinda reached across the console, her fingers curling lightly over Elphaba’s wrist.
“I mean,” Glinda continued, mock-serious, “unless you don’t want to be?”
Elphaba snorted. “Oh, shut up.”
Glinda giggled, pleased, giving her wrist a playful squeeze.
And for the rest of the ride, Elphaba didn’t let go of her hand.
Chapter Text
The first day back at school felt different.
Elphaba wasn’t sure what she expected— the world hadn’t ended just because she and Glinda had kissed on New Year’s. And yet, it was all she could think about.
She had barely stepped through the front doors of Crage Hall before Glinda found her.
“Good morning, Elphie.”
Elphaba tried not to react at the nickname, at the warmth in Glinda’s voice, at the way her eyes softened just for her.
“You’re disgustingly cheerful for a Monday,” Elphaba muttered.
Glinda giggled. “It’s a new semester. Fresh start. Plus,” she added, stepping closer, her voice dropping just enough to make Elphaba’s stomach flip, “I get to see you more.”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, not trusting herself to respond.
As luck would have it, they ended up in a few classes together.
History of Oz II, of course, was still under the unflinching eye of Professor Dillamond.
Literature was new, a small seminar-style class where Elphaba had no choice but to sit next to Glinda unless she wanted to be stuck next to Avaric.
And then there was study hall.
Not just with Glinda— but with all of them.
Boq, Crope, Tibbett, Fiyero. Their group.
Somehow, without needing to say it, they had formed a safe place.
No Pfannee. No Shenshen. No Milla.
No expectations.
Glinda could just be.
Elphaba could breathe.
And when Glinda absentmindedly reached for her hand under the table during their first study hall session, Elphaba didn’t pull away.
Glinda had gotten too comfortable.
She should’ve known it wouldn’t last. That she couldn’t just float between worlds without someone noticing.
It happened in the hall between classes— Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla cornered her.
“You’ve been impossible to find,” Pfannee said, arms crossed. “Too busy with your new friends?”
Glinda’s stomach dropped.
She forced a laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, stop it.”
Shenshen raised a brow. "Then why have you been so quiet at lunch?"
Milla scoffed. “And you never text us back anymore.”
Glinda felt boxed in. “I’ve just been busy. Cheer tryouts are coming up—I can’t afford distractions.”
Pfannee’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced.
Glinda hated how guilty she felt.
Elphaba was waiting in study hall, tapping her pencil against her notebook.
When Glinda slipped into the seat next to her, Elphaba barely glanced up. “You’re late.”
“Got caught,” Glinda muttered, sinking into her chair.
Elphaba smirked. “By your fan club?”
Glinda shot her a look. “By my friends. ”
Elphaba hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push.
Still, when their hands brushed under the table, Elphaba didn’t move away.
Neither did Glinda.
Tryouts were always brutal, but this year, they were worse.
More girls, more expectations.
Glinda had no room for error. She was captain, the face of the team.
And yet, the only thing distracting her was Elphaba.
She spotted her across the field, sitting with the boys, pretending not to be watching.
Glinda’s heart jumped.
Then Pfannee’s voice cut through her thoughts: “Focus, Captain. ”
Right. She couldn’t afford distractions.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Glinda wasn’t sure when she had started craving this.
The risk. The thrill. The pulse-racing tension of almost getting caught.
It had started as something innocent— brushing hands under the table in study hall, a fleeting glance across the lunchroom, an excuse to walk by each other between classes. But now? Now, it was a game neither of them wanted to stop playing.
She felt Elphaba before she saw her, the familiar presence at her back as she stood in front of her locker. Close. Too close.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Elphaba murmured, voice low enough that only Glinda could hear.
Glinda inhaled sharply. “I have not.”
Elphaba hummed, unconvinced. She leaned in, her breath warm against Glinda’s ear. “Liar.”
Glinda nearly dropped her books. She hated how much she liked this.
But they were in the middle of the hallway. Anyone could see them.
She turned, forcing a smile that she hoped looked normal—not like her heart was trying to escape her chest. “Someone’s feeling bold today.”
Elphaba smirked, stepping even closer. “Someone makes it too easy.”
Glinda wanted to argue. She wanted to push her away and tell her to stop making this so difficult. But instead, she said, “Meet me in the library. Fifteen minutes.”
Elphaba’s eyes flickered with something dangerous. Amusement. Excitement. Challenge.
“Make it ten.”
The library was quiet, the perfect place to disappear.
Glinda’s heart was still pounding when she slipped into one of the back aisles, hidden between towering shelves.
She didn’t wait long.
A moment later, Elphaba was there.
She didn’t hesitate. She moved with purpose.
Glinda barely had time to register it before Elphaba’s hands found her waist, pressing her back against the bookshelf.
Glinda’s breath hitched. “You’re very confident today,” she whispered, eyes gleaming.
Elphaba’s smirk only deepened. “Should I not be?”
And then she kissed her.
It was slow at first— intentional, teasing, in complete control. But when Glinda gasped, fingers tangling in Elphaba’s braids, Elphaba deepened it, pressing her body flush against Glinda’s.
Glinda arched into her, heart hammering, losing herself completely.
Then—
A voice. Too close.
“Glinda?”
They ripped apart, Elphaba’s breath ragged against Glinda’s lips.
Glinda barely had time to recover before footsteps sounded in the next aisle over.
Pfannee.
“There you are,” Pfannee drawled. “You just disappeared after class. What are you doing back here?”
Glinda forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “Just looking for a book.”
Pfannee scoffed. “You don’t read.”
Glinda willed her heartbeat to slow. “I do now.”
From behind the shelf, Elphaba moved—silent, calculated. She pressed herself into the corner, slipping just out of sight, waiting for the right moment. The second Pfannee turned her head toward Glinda, Elphaba was gone.
Glinda exhaled sharply, schooling her face into something neutral.
Pfannee squinted at her. “You look weird.”
Glinda smiled, feigning innocence. “You always say that.”
Pfannee rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Come on, I need your help picking out a dress for the game after-party.”
Glinda cast one last glance at the empty aisle behind her before following, pretending her hands weren’t still shaking.
This was getting dangerous.
And Glinda loved it.
This was going to get them both in trouble.
She knew it. She should stop. They should stop.
But when Elphaba’s fingers curled around her wrist and pulled her into an empty classroom, the door clicking shut behind them, stopping was the last thing on her mind.
Elphaba backed her against the wall, green eyes flickering with that same wicked challenge. “We can’t keep doing this.”
Glinda smirked, breathless. “Then let me go.”
Elphaba didn’t move.
Glinda knew she wouldn’t.
Instead, Elphaba tilted her head down, lips brushing over Glinda’s jaw. Light at first—just a whisper of contact. Glinda’s breath hitched.
“Elphie,” she warned, but it came out more like a plea.
Elphaba grinned against her skin. “Yes?”
And then she was pressing deeper, mouth trailing down the column of Glinda’s throat, slow and deliberate. Glinda’s fingers fisted into Elphaba’s blazer, gripping like she needed something to ground her.
Elphaba hummed against her pulse point, and Glinda nearly melted. “You like this too much.”
Glinda didn’t bother denying it.
Her hand slid into Elphaba’s braids, tugging just enough to make Elphaba exhale a sharp breath, her grip on Glinda’s waist tightening.
Then Elphaba kissed her.
It was hungry, demanding.
Their lips crashed together, Glinda’s back pressing harder against the wall. Elphaba kissed like she was trying to consume her, like she had been waiting for this all day.
Glinda whimpered against her mouth, her fingers tightening in Elphaba’s braids, her other hand sliding up, resting an arm of Elphaba’s shoulder.
Elphaba pulled away just enough to bite at Glinda’s lower lip before kissing her again, deeper this time, leaving Glinda dizzy and gasping.
Then she moved lower.
Elphaba’s lips found the sensitive skin of Glinda’s neck, kissing, sucking, nipping. Each press of her mouth sent a fresh wave of heat down Glinda’s spine.
She kissed just under Glinda’s jaw, lingering, teasing, then sinking her teeth in slightly. Glinda let out a shaky breath, body arching into her.
Elphaba soothed the bite with her tongue, mouthing at the mark she had just made.
Glinda was going to lose her mind.
Then the bell rang.
Reality slammed back into place. Glinda pushed at Elphaba’s shoulder, breathless, flushed, completely ruined.
Elphaba stepped back, looking obnoxiously composed. Smug. Pleased.
Glinda groaned, smoothing down her uniform. “You’re terrible.”
“You love it.”
Glinda rolled her eyes, but she didn’t disagree.
She almost made it out of the classroom unscathed.
Almost.
Until she saw Pfannee and Shenshen waiting outside, arms crossed.
Glinda froze.
“Where the hell have you been?” Pfannee demanded, eyes narrowing. Then she took a closer look—Glinda’s ruffled collar, her slightly dazed expression, the way she still looked like she was catching her breath.
Shenshen smirked. “Oh, she was definitely up to something.”
Pfannee’s eyes gleamed. “Who is it?”
Glinda choked. “What?”
Pfannee gestured toward her neck. “That.”
Glinda’s stomach dropped.
Her fingers flew to her throat. And sure enough—just under her jaw, barely hidden beneath her collar—was a mark.
Oh. Oz.
Pfannee grinned like a cat with cream. “You’re so obvious.”
Glinda scrambled for an excuse, any excuse, her mind racing.
Shenshen tapped her chin, feigning thoughtfulness. “She was giggling with Avaric after lunch.”
Pfannee gasped. “The basketball team?”
“Oh, definitely the basketball team.”
Glinda almost laughed in relief. They thought it was Avaric.
She could work with that.
So she forced a giggle, flipping her hair. “Please. As if I’d tell you two.”
Pfannee shrieked. “You absolute whore, tell me everything. ”
Glinda let herself be dragged away, all while trying not to think about the very green girl responsible for the mark burning against her skin.
She was so screwed.
Chapter Text
Glinda could barely focus.
She had spent the rest of the afternoon dodging knowing looks and whispered questions, all of them circling back to one thing:
Avaric.
Pfannee and Shenshen had already spun their own version of the story—how Glinda had clearly been sneaking around with him for weeks.
It was easier to let them believe it.
But Glinda hadn’t anticipated Avaric finding out.
“Not that I mind,” he said smoothly, falling into step beside her after last period, “but did you really have to use me as your cover story?”
Glinda stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Avaric smirked. “Oh, you definitely do. Everyone thinks we’re sneaking around now.”
Glinda groaned. “Just—go along with it, will you?”
Avaric’s smirk deepened. “Oh, I’ll go along with it. But only if you do something for me.”
Glinda paused mid-step. “Excuse me?”
Avaric leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “See, I’m not an idiot. You’ve been acting weird for weeks. And now you suddenly need a cover? It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
Glinda’s blood ran cold.
He knew. Or at least, he had a damn good guess.
Her throat felt dry. “And what, exactly, do you think you know?”
Avaric shrugged. “Let’s just say, if you want me to keep playing along, I’ll be expecting some favors.”
Glinda’s fists clenched. “You’re disgusting.”
Avaric grinned. “And yet, here we are.”
Glinda swallowed down the wave of nausea and turned on her heel, storming off before she did something she’d regret.
But the weight of his words clung to her. He had leverage now.
And that was dangerous.
Elphaba wasn’t stupid.
She had heard the rumors.
Had heard Glinda’s name attached to Avaric’s.
And yet, she hadn’t asked. Not once.
She refused to.
But the boys?
The boys had no such restraint.
“So,” Crope mused, twirling a pencil between his fingers, “when were you going to tell us that you and Glinda are… something?”
Elphaba didn’t even flinch. “We’re not.”
Tibbett snorted. “You sure? Because the whole school seems to think she’s sneaking around with Avaric, and you look like you’re about to stab someone.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “You’re all ridiculous.”
Boq leaned forward, squinting at her. “You do know you’re being obvious, right?”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, flipping the page of her book. “There’s nothing to be obvious about.”
Crope smirked. “If you say so.”
Elphaba ignored them.
But her grip on her pencil was just a little too tight.
And she was definitely not thinking about Glinda.
Not at all.
Glinda felt sick.
Avaric’s arm draped casually around her shoulder, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of her upper arm. It wasn’t forceful. Wasn’t aggressive.
But it was a warning.
She could feel his smirk without even looking. Could hear the smug satisfaction in his voice as he leaned in and murmured, “Relax, Upland. You wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, would you?”
Glinda’s breath hitched. She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t shove him away. Not without consequence.
So she forced herself to smile, to giggle like nothing was wrong, like she wasn’t suffocating under the weight of his leverage.
From across the hall, Elphaba saw everything.
She didn’t move, didn’t say a word. But her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
Glinda hadn’t noticed her watching. Hadn’t seen the flash of hurt in Elphaba’s eyes before she turned and walked away.
She hadn’t realized what this looked like.
That Elphaba didn’t see the fear in her eyes—only the way she let Avaric touch her.
And now, Elphaba was gone.
Glinda finally dared to breathe, but it felt like something inside her had just shattered.
She wanted to tell Elphaba.
Wanted to run to her, explain everything, let her know that this wasn’t what it looked like.
That she wasn’t choosing Avaric. That she would never choose Avaric.
But if she told her, it would ruin everything.
Avaric had control. Not just over Glinda’s reputation , but Elphaba’s too. If he outed them, it wouldn’t just be Glinda who suffered—it would be Elphaba too, and she couldn’t risk that.
Because Elphaba was different. She was already an outsider, already watched too closely. People were waiting for a reason to tear her down. And if Glinda was the reason that happened—if Avaric used her as the final push— she would never forgive herself.
So when she reached for her phone, fingers hovering over Elphaba’s name, she hesitated.
And then she locked her phone and shoved it deep into her bag. Because if she told her, it made it real.
And she wasn’t sure she could handle that.
Elphaba was done waiting.
She was done pretending she didn’t care. Done letting Glinda string her along.
Because what else was she supposed to think? She saw them. Saw the way Glinda let Avaric touch her. Saw the way she didn’t pull away.
And worst of all? Glinda hadn’t even tried to explain.
That hurt more than anything.
So when Glinda finally found her—alone, tucked away in the back of the library after school—Elphaba didn’t even look up from her book.
“You weren’t in study hall.”
Elphaba turned a page. “Noticed that, did you?”
Glinda hated how cold she sounded. “Are you avoiding me?”
Elphaba exhaled sharply, finally closing her book. “Should I be?”
Glinda’s heart twisted. “Elphie—”
“Don’t.”
Glinda flinched.
Elphaba stared at her, expression unreadable. Waiting.
And Glinda— Glinda couldn’t say it. Couldn’t tell her what was happening. Couldn’t make herself admit just how deep this went.
So she said nothing. She just stood there, helpless.
Elphaba scoffed, shaking her head. Like she was done.
“Let me know when you figure out what you want, Upland.”
Glinda’s stomach dropped.
She hadn’t called her that since—
Since before all of this started. Since before their study sessions, before the stolen kisses, before the sleepovers where Elphaba whispered her name against her skin.
And now she was Upland again.
Elphaba pushed back her chair abruptly, the legs scraping against the floor. She grabbed her bag, standing so quickly that her knee bumped the table, making the books on top of it shift.
Glinda stepped forward, reaching out instinctively—but Elphaba was already walking away.
Her posture was rigid, shoulders squared like she was bracing for impact, but her fists were clenched so tight at her sides that Glinda swore she could see them shaking.
She wanted to chase after her. Wanted to make this right.
But Elphaba was already gone.
And Glinda was still frozen in place, unraveling
Chapter Text
Elphaba didn’t look at her. Not once.
Not in the halls, not in study hall, not even in class when Glinda knew she had to be watching, had to be listening. Nothing.
It was like she had been erased.
And Avaric noticed.
“Looks like you got dumped,” he mused, slinging an arm over Glinda’s shoulders as they walked toward the gym.
Glinda shrugged him off immediately, but the damage was done— Elphaba was right there, standing by the lockers, and she saw it.
Saw him touch her again.
Saw Glinda hesitate.
And this time, Avaric didn’t stop there.
Before Glinda could react, he leaned in and kissed her.
It was brief, just a brush of lips, but it was enough.
Enough for Glinda to freeze in horror.
Enough for Elphaba’s entire body to go rigid before she turned on her heel and walked away, her shoulders stiff, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles went white.
Glinda barely heard Avaric’s smug chuckle over the roaring in her ears. By the time she shoved him off her, it was too late.
Elphaba was gone.
Elphaba wasn’t planning on going to the game. Obviously.
But the boys had other ideas.
“Come on,” Tibbett groaned, throwing himself dramatically onto her bed. “You almost never come to school events.”
“Correct,” Elphaba muttered, flipping through the book in her hands. “Because I have self-respect.”
Boq rolled his eyes. “It’s Glinda’s game.”
Elphaba stiffened. They noticed.
“She’d want you there,” Crope added, watching her too closely. “You know that.”
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Then, of course, Nessa had to get involved.
“Elphaba,” her voice cut through the room, sharp and expectant. She didn’t even look up from where she was fixing her nails at her desk. “You should go.”
Elphaba exhaled slowly. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t,” Nessa said simply, “you’ll regret it.”
The boys all stared at her, waiting, knowing she had no good reason to say no.
And maybe Nessa was right.
Or maybe she would regret it.
Glinda should have been focused. She had never struggled to perform under pressure before.
But today, her mind was elsewhere.
The routine started, her body moving on autopilot. She had done this a hundred times.
But then they went into the stunt sequence, and something felt off.
Her base’s grip was solid, but her own balance was just slightly wrong.
The moment she was in the air, she knew. Too much weight on one side. A fraction too slow.
The world tilted.
For one terrifying second, she was falling.
Her stomach lurched, the crowd gasped—but then arms caught her.
She didn’t hit the mat.
But the shake in her hands told her how close she had come.
She barely had time to breathe before they moved into the next transition. She forced herself forward, ignoring the way her pulse pounded in her ears.
And then— her eyes flickered toward the stands.
Elphaba.
She was there, watching.
And for just a split second, Glinda caught it—pure, unfiltered worry.
It was gone just as fast. Elphaba’s face smoothed out, her arms crossed tightly. Unreadable.
Glinda felt something crack in her chest.
Glinda knew exactly where she’d find her.
Not in the middle of the chaos, not surrounded by people.
No— Elphaba would be alone.
And Glinda was right.
She found her in the backyard, leaning against the railing of the porch, a half-empty drink in one hand, the other braced on the wood.
Boq stood beside her, arms crossed, talking low. He stopped when he saw Glinda.
Elphaba didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge her at all.
Glinda swallowed, stepping forward. “Elphie—”
Elphaba’s laugh was quiet, sharp.
“Oh, look.” She took another slow drink, and Glinda realized with a sickening jolt just how drunk she was.
Elphaba’s movements were looser than usual, almost sluggish, her words slightly slurred. She wasn’t just drinking—she was gone.
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
“Elphaba, how much have you had?” she asked carefully, stepping closer.
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, barely looking at her. “Enough.”
Boq cleared his throat, glancing between them. “I’m gonna—uh—go inside.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “That’s probably wise.”
Boq hesitated for a second longer before disappearing into the house, leaving them alone.
Glinda took another step closer. “Can we—can we talk?”
“Talk about what?” she asked, voice flat. “The part where you let Avaric kiss you? Or the part where you didn’t push him away fast enough?”
Glinda’s heart twisted.
“That’s not fair.”
Elphaba tilted her head, taking another sip. “No? Then explain it to me, princess.”
Glinda swallowed hard. “I—”
Elphaba’s jaw clenched. “You can’t, can you?”
The words hit like a slap. ”Can you?” She repeated.
Glinda knew this wasn’t going to end well.
But she couldn’t just walk away.
“Elphaba,” she tried again, voice softer. “Please—”
Elphaba downed the rest of her drink, setting the empty cup down on the porch railing with a dull thud. Her hands gripped the wood, her knuckles white. She stood stiffly, her weight shifting slightly as if trying to ground herself.
“Don’t.”
Glinda swallowed. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t act like you care.” Elphaba’s voice was low, sharp. “Not now. Not when it’s convenient for you.”
Glinda flinched. She took a hesitant step forward. “That’s not fair—”
Elphaba let out a cold laugh, turning to finally look at her fully. Her eyes were red-rimmed, streaked with faint burn marks down her cheeks—she had been crying.
Glinda’s stomach plummeted.
“Isn’t it?” Elphaba took a slow step closer, standing just a foot away. “You sure seemed fine earlier, letting him put his hands on you.”
Glinda felt her pulse thunder in her throat. “I didn’t—he—”
“You didn’t stop him.”
“I shoved him off!”
“But not fast enough! ”
The words cut deep, and Glinda recoiled, her breath catching. Her hand trembled at her side, fingers curling into a tight fist.
Elphaba exhaled sharply, shaking her head, jaw clenched tight. “You let him touch you, Glinda. You let him kiss you. And you know what kind of person he is.”
Glinda’s chest ached, because she knew Elphaba was right. She had hesitated. Not because she’d wanted it, but because… because what?
Because she was scared?
Because she was still trying to pretend?
“Elphie, I—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Glinda stopped dead.
Elphaba’s expression was set in stone, her green skin darkened by the dim porch lights. Her braids hung messily around her shoulders, evidence of how many times she’d probably run her hands through them.
Glinda’s voice wavered. “Elphaba, please, I—I was scared.”
Elphaba let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Yeah? Of what?”
Glinda hesitated.
And that was enough.
Elphaba’s face twisted, something breaking behind her eyes. “You are a coward. ”
Glinda snapped.
“You don’t get it!” she shouted, stepping forward, her whole body trembling with frustration. “You don’t live in my world, Elphaba! You don’t know what it’s like! ”
Elphaba’s eyes flashed. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to feel bad for you?” She let out a bitter laugh. “You’re rich, you’re beautiful, you have everything, and you’re terrified of what? Losing a little popularity? ”
Glinda’s breathing was ragged. “It’s not that simple—”
“It is that simple!” Elphaba cut her off. “You care more about what they think than you do about me.”
Glinda’s heart twisted, violently. “That’s not true—”
“Then prove it.”
The challenge hung between them, thick and suffocating.
Glinda opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Because she didn’t know how.
Elphaba’s throat bobbed. And then, quieter, like a final blow:
“I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I’m not.”
And Glinda couldn’t hold it in anymore. Couldn’t stop herself from saying the words she would immediately regret.
“Maybe that’s easy for you—you’ve never been loved at all.”
Silence.
Elphaba went completely still.
And Glinda— Oh, Oz, what had she done?
Elphaba blinked once, slowly. Her face betrayed nothing.
Then, she let out a quiet, breathless laugh— a horrible, broken sound.
“Wow,” she murmured. “There it is.”
Glinda’s chest constricted so tightly she could barely breathe. “Elphaba—”
But Elphaba was already stepping past her. Already leaving.
Glinda reacted without thinking.
She grabbed Elphaba’s wrist. “Wait!”
Elphaba ripped away from her touch.
Glinda’s stomach dropped. She stepped forward again, desperate now. “Elphaba, please—”
Elphaba turned sharply, and the look on her face was pure devastation.
“I don’t want to hear it, Glinda.”
“But I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
Elphaba’s voice wasn’t angry anymore. It was exhausted.
And that was somehow worse.
Glinda wanted to beg, to fix it, to take it all back— but Elphaba was already walking away again, disappearing through the back gate.
This time, Glinda didn’t stop her.
She just stood there, watching her go.
Glinda barely had time to breathe.
Elphaba was gone. Really gone.
And the moment she disappeared through the back gate, the weight of it hit her full force.
Her pulse pounded, her chest heaved, her hands shook —she felt like she was standing on the edge of something, and if she didn’t do something, say something, hit something, she was going to explode.
So she went inside, pushing past people without really seeing them, barely making it through the kitchen before Avaric’s smug voice cut through the noise.
“Wow. That was tragic.”
Glinda whirled around so fast she nearly knocked over a table.
Avaric was leaning against the counter, drink in hand, his other arm draped lazily around some girl’s waist. He looked utterly self-satisfied.
“You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” he mused, swirling his drink as if he wasn’t actively walking into imminent danger. “Or should I just assume she finally realized you’re way more trouble than you’re worth?”
Glinda’s entire body went still.
Her fists curled. Her jaw clenched. Her head was still spinning from Elphaba, from everything, and now this.
She saw red.
Avaric laughed, completely oblivious to the absolute catastrophe about to befall him. “I mean, I get it. You must be exhausting. Always so high-strung, so—”
“I am going to ruin your life.”
The words came out low and lethal, meant for only him to hear.
Avaric paused, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second. “Oh, come on, don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart—”
Glinda’s voice rose—loud enough for the entire kitchen to hear.
“Oh, you wanna talk about exhausting? You wanna talk about tragic? ” Her laugh was sharp and cruel. “You know what’s really tragic, Avaric? How you cry after sex.”
Silence.
The entire kitchen went dead quiet.
Avaric’s smirk disappeared. His face dropped.
“You—what the—”
“Oh, wait,” Glinda gasped, hand to her chest, eyes wide in mock realization. “ Not just cry. Sob. Like, full body, ugly, incoherent sobbing. It’s honestly heartbreaking to witness”
Avaric’s eyes bulged. “What the fuck—”
“Almost as heartbreaking as how,” she continued, tone dripping with condescension, “you have to apologize after because, and I quote, ‘it doesn’t happen for me very often.’”
Tibbett choked on his drink.
Crope full-on gasped.
Boq’s mouth was wide open in horror.
Even Pfannee and Shenshen looked floored, exchanging glances with barely concealed amusement.
Someone in the crowd whistled. Someone else muttered "Oh, Ozdamn."
Avaric, for the first time in his entire life, was speechless.
Glinda took a slow step forward, getting in his space, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
“If you ever use me to make yourself feel bigger again,” she said, “I will make sure you never recover from it.”
Avaric just stared.
His mouth opened. Closed.
Nothing came out.
Good.
Glinda turned on her heel and walked away without another word.
And the entire party watched her go.
Elphaba stumbled down the sidewalk, her head pounding, her stomach rolling.
She could barely feel her hands. Her face was hot. Her skin burned.
She had to get out of here.
But she didn’t know where to go.
So she sat down on the curb.
The cold pavement bit through her jeans, but she barely noticed.
She sat there for a long time, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. The distant buzz of the party barely reached her ears.
Her chest ached. Her breath was uneven.
She didn’t know how long she stayed like that.
But eventually—
A car pulled up beside her.
“Elphaba.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Oz, not now.
“Elphaba, get in.”
She forced herself to look.
Boq. Leaning out of the driver’s seat, his face tight with concern.
And sitting in the passenger seat, watching her just as closely— Fiyero.
Elphaba groaned. “I’m fine. ”
“You’re not, ” Boq shot back. “We’ve been looking for you for an hour.”
Elphaba winced. Had she really been out here that long?
“Come on, Elphie,” Fiyero added, voice softer.
Elphaba wanted to argue.
But she was tired. So tired.
And when she wavered slightly on her feet, Fiyero just sighed, got out of the car, and opened the back door for her, putting a hand around her waist and helping her inside.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he said, not unkindly.
Elphaba exhaled sharply, but didn’t fight it.
She climbed into the back seat, leaning her head against the window.
No one spoke.
And for the first time all night, she let her eyes slip shut.
Chapter Text
Glinda didn’t sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at her phone, the dim glow of the screen making her eyes ache.
Three missed calls. Seven texts.
Nothing back. Nothing.
She tried again.
Elphie, please.
I just need to talk to you.
The message delivered. It stayed unread.
Glinda exhaled shakily, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. Her head felt too full, her chest too tight, her throat raw from the fury, the panic, the regret.
She had never felt like this before.
This wasn’t a normal fight. This wasn’t something she could fix with a smile or a joke.
This was Elphaba shutting her out completely.
And it felt like being split in half.
Elphaba, on the other hand, didn’t even look at her phone.
She kept it face-down on her nightstand, unread messages piling up as she lay motionless on her bed.
She wasn’t even sure how she got home. She barely remembered anything after the party.
Just that Glinda had been there.
Just that she had been drunk, hurting, unraveling—and Glinda had still let Avaric touch her.
Elphaba felt sick.
Nessa had scolded her the moment she walked through the door, but she barely heard it. Shell had hovered nearby, wide-eyed with worry.
None of it mattered.
Not when she could still hear Glinda’s voice in her head.
You’ve never been loved at all.
Elphaba shut her eyes.
She needed distance.
She needed to breathe.
Glinda had never been this hungover without drinking a drop of alcohol.
She sat stiffly in the booth, stirring her coffee, barely tasting it.
Across from her, Crope and Tibbett exchanged nervous glances. Boq looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Fiyero just sighed.
“So.” Tibbett tapped his fork against his plate. “Are we gonna talk about last night?”
Glinda swallowed. “What’s there to talk about?”
Boq frowned. “Glinda—”
“She won’t answer me.” Glinda’s voice was thin, brittle. “She won’t even read my messages.”
Crope sighed, leaning forward. “You have to give her time.”
“I don’t want to give her time,” Glinda snapped, immediately regretting how sharp it sounded. “I—I just want her to talk to me. I need to explain.”
Fiyero tilted his head. “Explain what, exactly?”
Glinda faltered. “That it wasn’t—it’s not what she thinks.”
Tibbett raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
“Look,” Boq said gently. “We all saw it. Avaric is a dick, but if you really didn’t want that to happen, you would have—”
“Do you think I wanted it?” Glinda’s voice rose unexpectedly.
The boys all went silent.
Glinda inhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her temple. “I just—I panicked. And now she’s—I don’t know.”
“She’s hurting.” Crope’s voice was softer now. “So are you.”
Glinda gritted her teeth. “Yeah. Well. That doesn’t help me now, does it?”
Fiyero sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You have to let her process it. If you push her before she’s ready—”
“I can’t wait,” Glinda whispered. Her hands clenched around her coffee cup. “I can’t. ”
The boys shared another look.
“She’ll come around,” Boq said, even if he didn’t sound fully convinced. “She has to.”
Glinda stared down at the table, heart pounding.
But she wasn’t sure if that was true.
And it terrified her.
Elphaba sat at the kitchen table, barely touching her tea, tuning out everything around her.
Nessa had been watching her carefully all morning. Shell, too. But neither of them had asked.
Until now.
“You look like shit.”
Elphaba snorted. “Thanks, Shell.”
Her brother shrugged. “Just saying. You barely slept, you’re sulking, and you haven’t checked your phone once. That’s gotta be a record.”
Elphaba ignored him.
Nessa folded her hands. “Is this about Glinda?”
Elphaba’s jaw clenched.
Nessa took that as a yes. “She called four times.”
Elphaba finally looked up. “You answered?”
Nessa sighed. “No. But I heard it.”
Shell frowned. “Are you actually gonna ignore her forever?”
Elphaba exhaled sharply. “I don’t know.”
Shell hesitated. “Do you want to?”
Elphaba didn’t answer.
She didn’t know that either.
Frex suddenly walked in, pausing when he saw her slouched over the table. He eyed her for a moment before sighing dramatically.
“You know,” he said, with his usual self-righteous tone, “if you’re feeling this low, maybe you should come to church. Might do you some good.”
Elphaba lifted her head just enough to shoot him a glare. “I’d rather set myself on fire.”
Frex sighed, shaking his head. “One day, Fabala—”
“Not today.” Elphaba cut him off, dropping her forehead back onto her crossed arms. “Not ever.”
Shell stifled a laugh, Nessa rolled her eyes, and Frex just muttered something about damnation before walking off.
Elphaba sighed.
Church. Right. That’d fix everything.
Monday morning, and Glinda had never felt so on edge.
The second she stepped into the school, she knew.
People were staring. Whispering. Some barely even trying to hide it.
Her stomach twisted.
Pfannee and Shenshen were already waiting by their lockers, eyes alight with intrigue. Milla stood just behind them, arms crossed, smirking.
“You’re late,” Pfannee drawled, linking arms with her. “And apparently, you’ve been busy.”
Glinda’s pulse spiked. “What?”
Shenshen smirked, tilting her head. “You haven’t heard?”
Glinda forced a light laugh. “Obviously not, but since you’re all being dramatic about it I'm sure you'll tell me.”
Pfannee grinned. “Well. Let’s just say everyone’s wondering exactly how close you and Thropp got at the party.”
Glinda froze.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she covered it immediately, rolling her eyes. “Oh, Oz. That’s ridiculous.”
Shenshen feigned a pout. “ Is it?”
Glinda forced herself to laugh again, though it sounded hollow. “Of course! I mean—come on. Elphaba?” She waved a dismissive hand. “That’s just… dumb.”
Pfannee’s grin didn’t falter, but her voice dropped lower, sharper. “Well, it better be dumb, Glinda. Because if it’s not —if it turns out you really are some kind of dyke—” she leaned in, eyes glittering with something cruel, “you’ll lose everything. ”
Shenshen giggled beside her. “Your spot as captain, your status, your future. ”
Milla chimed in, “Not to mention your reputation. ”
Glinda’s breath hitched. Her hands clenched at her sides.
“I—”
Pfannee smiled, sickly sweet. “So, tell us. Should we be worried?”
Glinda swallowed hard, throat tight.
“No,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Of course not.”
Pfannee beamed. “Good.”
Shenshen patted her arm. “Because, really, Glinda. We’re just looking out for you.”
Glinda nodded, numb, before turning on her heel and practically fleeing to first period.
Elphaba had heard it, too.
She had barely made it two steps into school before Crope and Tibbett descended.
“Do you know what they’re saying?” Tibbett asked, eyes wide with amusement.
Elphaba adjusted her bag, sighing. “Let me guess. That I sacrificed a goat in the middle of the party?”
Crope smirked. “Close. Apparently, you and Glinda are lovers. ”
Elphaba blinked.
Then she laughed.
A sharp, humorless thing. “Oh, for Oz’s sake.”
Tibbett shrugged. “Honestly, I think people want it to be true.”
Elphaba shook her head. “Well, they’re out of luck.”
But even as she said it, her chest tightened.
She hadn’t seen Glinda yet. Hadn’t looked at her since the party.
And now—
Now, the entire school was talking.
Larena Upland heard about it before lunch.
The first call came from a concerned parent.
The second, from a faculty member.
By noon, she was furious.
Sitting in her pristine office, she dialed her daughter’s number, lips pressed in a thin line.
It rang twice before Glinda picked up. “Momsie?”
Larena exhaled sharply. “What the hell am I hearing about you and that Thropp girl?”
Glinda went cold.
Her grip on the phone tightened, but she forced her voice to stay light. “Oh, Oz. That? It’s nothing.”
“Then why is everyone talking about it?”
Glinda swallowed. “Because people like gossip?”
Larena wasn’t convinced. “Come straight home after school.”
“Momsie, I—”
“Straight home, Glinda.”
The line clicked dead.
Glinda stared at her phone, heart hammering.
And for the first time, she realized—
This wasn’t just school drama anymore.
This was so much worse.
Glinda was barely holding it together.
Everywhere she went, people were whispering. Pointing. Staring. Some smirked. Some giggled behind their hands. Some just looked at her like they were waiting for something to happen.
Like they already knew the outcome of whatever game she was playing.
Like they had already decided for her.
By the time the final bell rang, her chest was so tight it felt like she could barely breathe. Her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel on the way home. Her mother was going to kill her.
Chapter Text
Larena was waiting for her. Of course she was.
Glinda barely had time to shut the front door before her mother’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and furious.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Glinda stiffened, forcing herself to stand tall. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Larena scoffed. “Don’t play dumb with me, Glinda. I got three more calls today. Three. Parents asking if their daughters should even be associating with you. Telling me their families don’t want to be connected to some disgraceful scandal.”
Glinda swallowed, nails digging into her palms. “It’s not a scandal.”
“Oh, really?” Larena stepped closer, voice cold. “Then why is the entire school talking about it? Why am I getting calls about my daughter being some kind of—”
“Say it.” Glinda’s voice snapped, something inside her breaking apart all at once. “Go ahead. Say it. ”
Larena’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You are throwing away everything we’ve worked for.”
Glinda let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Right. We. Because it’s always about you, isn’t it?”
“You don’t understand what you’re doing—”
“No, you don’t understand.” Glinda’s voice rose, shaking. “I’m gay.”
Silence.
It slammed into the room, thick and suffocating.
Larena’s face went blank.
Glinda’s breath came fast, her hands trembling at her sides. “Did you hear me? I. Am. Gay .”
Larena’s jaw tightened. “No.”
Glinda’s stomach twisted. “No?”
“No,” Larena repeated, her voice like steel. “You’re confused.”
Glinda laughed bitterly. “Confused? Confused? I have never been more certain of anything in my life. I’m gay. And I love Elphaba Thropp.”
“You are not —”
“I am.” Glinda stepped forward, voice unwavering. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Larena’s nostrils flared. “We’ll see about that.”
Glinda clenched her fists, chest heaving. “I’m not changing, Momsie.”
Larena’s eyes burned into her, but Glinda didn’t look away.
She wouldn’t run from this.
Not anymore.
Glinda had barely made it through the day. Her mind was spinning, her chest tight, her hands were trembling as she drove home.
By the time she got to her room, she could barely breathe.
She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt, trying to hold herself together.
But it wasn’t working.
Her breaths came too fast, too shallow. Her vision blurred.
Everything was too much. The whispers at school, the threats from Pfannee and the others, her mother’s sharp voice, the fact that Elphaba still wasn’t talking to her—
She clenched her fists, pressing them against her temples, trying to force it all away.
And then, suddenly— a hand on her back.
Gentle. Steady.
She flinched, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Hush, now, Duckie,” came Ama Clutch’s voice, soft and warm. "You're alright."
Glinda let out a broken sound, half a sob, half a gasp. “I—can’t—”
Ama sat beside her, rubbing slow circles on her back. “Breathe, sweetheart. Deep and slow. With me.”
Glinda tried. Inhale, exhale. Deep. Slow.
And little by little, the world stopped spinning.
They sat there in silence for a while, Glinda pressed against Ama’s side, clinging to the familiarity of it.
When she could finally speak, her voice was small. “She won’t talk to me.”
Ama hummed knowingly. “She will.”
Glinda’s throat tightened. “What if she doesn’t?”
“She will,” Ama repeated. “She just needs time.”
Glinda pressed her face into Ama’s shoulder, voice barely above a whisper. “Momsie’s furious.”
Ama sighed. “She’ll come around.”
Glinda let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Ama said gently. “She loves you. She’s just scared.”
Glinda sniffed, curling further into her. “Ama.. I think I love her.”
Ama’s hand paused on her back for just a moment before she gave her a small squeeze.
“Oh, Duckie,” she murmured. “I know.”
Glinda’s breath hitched.
Ama pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing a stray curl from her face. “And you should tell her.”
Glinda swallowed hard, searching her face. “But what if—”
“No what-ifs.” Ama cupped her cheek, smiling softly. “You love her. And she deserves to know.”
Glinda had blinked rapidly, tears welling in her eyes.
For the first time all day, she let herself believe it might be okay.
Elphaba didn’t remember falling asleep, but she remembered waking up. The weight in her chest already there—not creeping in, not slow, just present, like it had been waiting for her. There was no transition between sleep and consciousness, no moment where she forgot what happened. It was just there, pressing against her ribs, heavy, suffocating.
And then the words came back.
You’ve never been loved at all.
She stared at the ceiling, her body unmoving beneath the covers. Her fingers twitched against the fabric, barely curling inward. Not clenched. Not relaxed. Something in-between, like her body hadn't decided whether to hold itself together or come apart.
She heared it again, the way Glinda spat the words out, deliberate and cruel, not an accident, not a moment of unchecked emotion. She had meant them. She had wanted them to hurt. And they did. But what made it unbearable, what made Elphaba’s chest ache and her throat tighten, is that Glinda wasn’t wrong. She had said it because it was the truth. Elphaba had known it all along.
Her hands slid up her arms, fingers pressing into her own skin, the bite of her nails grounding her for just a second. It didn't help. Nothing did. So she let go and let the words settle in.
She moved through the morning on autopilot. Her hands going through the motions—clean up, uniform, bag slung over her shoulder—while her mind remained elsewhere. The world outside was gray and wet from last night’s storm. The damp air clung to the windshield of her car as she slid into the driver’s seat, her fingers tightening around the cold steering wheel.
She didn't turn on the heater.
She didn't turn on the radio.
She drove in silence.
The houses blurred together, streetlights flickering past as she navigated the familiar route to school. She wasn't thinking about anything, wasn't focusing on the road or the weight in her chest. And then—
A flash of white and chrome.
Her stomach twisted before she even fully registered what she saw.
Glinda’s car, parked outside a coffee shop, the windshield fogged from the warmth inside. And Glinda—Elphaba didn't want to look, she knew she shouldn’t, but her eyes flickered toward the window against her better judgment. There she was, sitting at a corner table, cradling a steaming cup in her hands, smiling at something or someone out of sight.
She looked fine. Warm. Safe. Happy.
Like nothing was wrong.
Elphaba’s grip tightend on the steering wheel, her knuckles aching from the pressure. Her breath caught in her throat, too sharp, too sudden. She blinked, and for a second, her vision swelled, the road ahead blurring. It took every ounce of willpower to look away, to press her foot against the gas, to keep driving. She didn't look back. Didn't let herself.
Elphaba found herself in the library. The chair beneath her was hard, stiff against her back. The book in front of her open, untouched, the pages meaningless. Her hands resting on the table, fingers lightly pressed against the paper, but she hadn't turned a page in over an hour. She wasn't reading, not really. She was just looking.
A chair scraped against the floor.
Then another.
She didn't move, didn't react, but she knew who it is before they even sat down.
Crope. Tibbett. A pause, then Boq.
They didn't speak right away. She barely registered their presence. It wasn't until something slid across the table—something small, something wrapped in paper—that she glanced downward.
A muffin.
Beside it, a bottle of water.
“You haven’t eaten.” Crope’s voice was quiet, careful.
She didn't answer.
“You need to eat, babe.” Tibbett’s voice was softer.
Her fingers twitched against the edge of the book.
“You don’t have to talk to us,” Boq mumbled, hesitant, watching her. “But we’re not leaving.”
The words settled between them, an unspoken choice.
She should say something, she didn't, but they stayed anyway.
Chapter Text
Elphaba didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when she felt the shift. The air in the library was already heavy, but now, it grew heavier, thick with something she didn’t want to name. She knew before she heard the chair scrape against the floor. Before she felt a familiar presence settle across from her.
Glinda.
Her breath uneven, like she’d been running. Or searching.
Elphaba kept her eyes on the book, but her fingers tightened around the edges, pressing down into the paper.
“Elphie.” Glinda’s voice was breathless, unsure.
She didn’t answer.
Glinda swallowed. “Please.”
Not an apology. Not uncertainty. Just a plea.
Elphaba kept her grip steady, but she could feel something inside her teetering.
“I—” Glinda stopped. She exhaled, and tried again. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
The words left Elphaba’s mouth before she could stop them. Her voice quiet, steady. There was no anger, no sharp edges. Just exhaustion. Just the truth.
Glinda flinched.
“I just—” She hesitated, searching Elphaba’s face for something, anything. “Elphie, please, I—”
“Don’t.”
Glinda’s breath hitched.
For the first time in days, Elphaba looked up at her.
And Glinda looked shattered.
Her eyes pink at the edges, lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something but didn't know how. She looked lost. Vulnerable. And something about that—about her being the vulnerable one—made Elphaba’s stomach twist violently.
She watched, waiting, silently daring her to take it back. To fix it.
But Glinda didn't.
She couldn't.
So Elphaba ended it for her.
“It was all a mistake.”
Glinda recoiled like she’d been struck. Her fingers curling around the edge of the table, gripping tight.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispered.
Elphaba set the book down in front of her, meeting Glinda's gaze. Cold.
“I do.”
Glinda’s face crumbled.
For a moment, it was so quiet that Elphaba heard her own heartbeat, could hear the way Glinda was holding her breath like she was waiting for Elphaba to take it back.
But she didn't.
And then—
“I… told my mother.”
Elphaba’s stomach twisted. Her fingers twitched.
“I told her about me. About us.” A pause. “She didn’t take it well.. I did it, Elphie. I finally did it.”
Elphaba didn’t answer, she didn’t react, she didn’t even move.
But Glinda saw the crack.
The way her fingers twitched.
And for a second, she thought she won.
She thought she got through.
Thought.
But then—
Elphaba snapped the book shut.
Pushed back her chair.
Stood and left, walked away without saying a word.
Leaving Glinda alone in the library.
Elphaba didn’t stop moving until she was alone.
She pressed her back against the nearest wall, she exhaled shakily. Her vision swam. Her throat tightened. She clenched her jaw, but should couldn't stop it. It wouldn't go away.
Before she could shove it down, before she could bury it so deep it would never see the light of day—
The tears spilled over.
Burning. Hot. Silent.
Because Glinda was right.
She has never been loved at all.
And now, she finally understood what that meant.
Practice was brutal.
Not physically—Glinda had been pushing herself harder than this since she was a child—but today, the weight wasn’t in her limbs. It was in the way the air felt charged, the way every glance in her direction lingered for a second too long, the way whispers faded the moment she walked past.
She didn’t falter.
She is Glinda Upland. She is cheer captain. She is perfect. No one gets to see what’s underneath.
The squad moved in sync, motions sharp and precise as they ran through the routine again. The sound of sneakers against the glossy floor echoed through the gym, the rhythm of it steady, predictable. It should’ve been grounding. It should’ve felt like control.
But then—
A mistake. A small one.
Her foot landed half a second too late in formation. Barely anything, barely noticeable, barely a stumble, but it was enough.
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Lavinia, one of the seniors, lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “What’s wrong with you today?”
Glinda forced her shoulders back. “Nothing.”
Lavinia smirked, her gaze sweeping over her like she’s searching for something. “Are you sure? Because you look distracted.”
Something shifted. A ripple of attention turned toward her. The atmosphere changed just slightly, but she felt it.
Glinda pasted on a bright, easy smile. “I’m fine. Let’s run it again.” She clapped her hands together, signaling the team to reset, but the moment had already turned against her.
A soft, mocking laugh cut through the air. Pfannee.
Glinda didn’t even have time to brace for it before it happened.
“She’s probably too busy thinking about her girlfriend.”
The words landed like a gunshot and the gym went silent.
And then—
Laughter.
Sharp. Cold. Everywhere.
Glinda’s pulse pounded in her ears, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. If she reacted, she'd lose.
“Oh, come on,” Milla said, her voice light, but her eyes glinting with something cruel. “It’s not like it’s a secret anymore.”
Glinda exhaled slowly, schooling her features into something effortless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Milla scoffed, folding her arms. “Please.”
More whispers. More laughter. The sound of it buzzed in the air like static, pressing in, closing around her.
Pfannee tilted her head, stepping forward slightly, her voice turning saccharine. “Just say it.”
Glinda didn’t move.
Just say it.
It echoed in her head, in the air, in the way they’re watching her.
She couldn't. She shouldn’t. But she was so tired. Of pretending. Of all of it.
Pfannee leaned in, her voice quieter now, but somehow sharper. “You love her, don’t you?”
Glinda’s chest tightened.
The moment shrunk around her, trapping her inside it. The heat of their eyes, the smirks, the expectation.
She should’ve laughed. She should’ve just lied but she didn’t.
“Fine,” she spat, her voice sharp, furious, cracking under the weight of it. “I love her. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
For a moment, everything stopped.
No one moved.
And then—
The laughter started again, but this time, it was worse. It was crueler. Louder.
It’s like they’ve been waiting for this moment. Like it’s funny, like she was funny. A joke.
Lavinia shook her head, looking at her like she was pathetic. “That’s disgusting.”
Shenshen scoffed. “Oh, gross. ”
Milla cringed, stepping away from her like she might catch something. “That is so nasty. I knew it. Dyke.”
Glinda couldn’t breathe.
The floor beneath her felt like it was tilting.
Pfannee, smirking, eyes gleaming with triumph, just shrugged. “Oh, Glinda,” she purred, voice dripping with false sympathy. “That is so, so sad. You should really leave, we’re all in spandex I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”
The final blow.
The last thread snaps.
She turned on her heel and walked out of the gym.
She didn’t run.
Didn’t look back.
She walked, back straight, chin high, every step controlled.
But the moment she stepped into the hallway, the moment she’s out of their sight— she broke.
She didn’t know where she was going.
Her legs moved on their own, her mind still stuck in the echo of laughter and stares and vicious, cutting voices.
She turned a corner blindly, too fast, nearly colliding into someone. A pair of hands grab her shoulders, steadying her. “Whoa, whoa—Glinda?”
Fiyero.
Glinda looked up at him, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His expression shifted the second he really saw her. His hands tightened slightly, grounding her, his voice gentler now. “Hey, what happened?”
She tried to answer, but her throat closed.
The weight of it all— everything —slamed into her at once.
Her breath caught. Her chest ached.
A sob broke free before she could stop it.
Fiyero didn’t hesitate. He pulled her against him, arms wrapping around her like it’s second nature, like he already knew she was about to fall apart.
She gripped onto his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric as her body shaking.
He tightened his hold. “Hey. Hey, I got you.”
She couldn’t stop shaking. She felt like she was going to collapse, like her body couldn’t hold the weight of it anymore.
Fiyero kept her upright.
“Okay,” he murmured. “We’re leaving. Let’s go.”
She didn’t ask where.
She just nodded.
He lead her outside, his hand steady on her back as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car. She barely registered the drive.
When they pulled up to her house, she was moving on autopilot, stepping inside without thinking.
Fiyero didn’t leave. He didn’t even ask. He just followed her in, and sat with her on the couch.
She curled into herself, arms wrapped around her knees, trying to make herself small. Fiyero stayed beside her, solid, steady.
And then, he pulled out his phone.
Glinda barely heard it over the sound of her own breathing.
He dialed.
And then—
“She needs you,” he said, voice low, sure.
A pause.
Then, Elphaba’s voice, sharp and immediate. “Shit. Ok, I’m coming.”
Glinda squeezed her eyes shut. Her breath stuttered.
Because Elphaba was coming.
Elphaba barely remembered the drive.
She didn’t remember grabbing her keys, didn't remember pulling onto the road, or weaving through traffic. All she knew is the tightness in her chest, the sharp, twisting feeling lodged deep in her ribs, and the way her hands wouldn’t stop clenching and unclenching around the wheel.
The streetlights passed in a blur, their glow flickering over the windshield, casting quick flashes of light over her face. She didn’t turn on the radio. She didn't let herself think. She just drove.
She told herself she was still angry.
She told herself she was only doing this because Fiyero called her, because Glinda shouldn’t be alone, because someone had to make sure she didn't spiral.
She told herself it doesn’t mean anything.
But the second she pulled into Glinda’s driveway and saw the dim glow of the porch light illuminating the front steps, her stomach twisted.
She needs you.
She killed the engine, took a slow, deliberate breath, then stepped out.
When she reached the door, she didn’t hesitate. She pushed it open without knocking.
The moment she stepped inside, she saw her.
Glinda, curled up on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them like she’s holding herself together by force. Her skin paler than usual, her eyes glassy, her breath uneven. Her curls messy, falling out of their perfect style, her mascara smudged beneath her lower lashes.
She looked up at the sound of the door, and for a second, neither of them moved.
Elphaba felt Fiyero’s gaze on her from the kitchen, but she didn’t turn to look. She only watched as Glinda straightened slightly, almost like she wanted to make herself presentable, like she wanted to pretend she hadn’t just had the worst few hours of her life.
Glinda exhaled, her voice quiet, hoarse. “You didn’t have to come.”
Elphaba swallowed against the sudden, overwhelming tightness in her throat. She didn’t respond to that. She just said, “Let’s go, get up. Get in the car.”
Glinda blinked. Her lips parted slightly. “What?”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, sharp, controlled. “Get in the car, Glinda.”
It was not a request.
Glinda stared at her for a long moment, her fingers tightening around her own arms, the tension in her body making her look too small, too breakable. She hesitated, shifting slightly where she sat, like she wanted to protest, but didn’t know how.
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. “Now, Glinda.”
That did it.
Glinda moved slowly, uncurling herself from the couch, carefully pushing herself to her feet. Her limbs felt stiff, like she’d been sitting in the same position for too long. Fiyero didn’t say anything as she stepped past him, he just watched her with something unreadable in his eyes.
Glinda didn’t meet his gaze.
She just followed Elphaba outside.
Chapter Text
The drive was silent.
Not just quiet. Not just heavy.
Suffocating.
The kind of silence that presses down on your chest, that makes it impossible to ignore the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid.
Glinda kept her hands clasped in her lap, her fingers twisting together too tightly, her nails digging into her own skin. She wasn't looking at Elphaba. She wasn't looking at anything.
She just stared at her own hands, watching the way her knuckles turned white, listening to the soft, steady hum of the engine as they sped down empty roads.
She didn't know where they were going.
She didn't care.
Elphaba’s grip on the wheel was too tight, her posture stiff, her expression unreadable in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. The air between them was thick with tension, hurt, exhaustion.
And then—
“Elphaba, pull over.”
Her voice unsteady, barely above a whisper, but Elphaba heard it.
She frowned slightly, her hands tightening around the wheel. “What?”
Glinda swallowed hard. “Please. Just pull over.”
Elphaba didn't argue.
She flicked the turn signal, pulling into an empty parking lot on the side of the road. The streetlights overhead casted long shadows over the pavement, washing everything in a dull yellow glow. The engine hummed softly as she shifted into park, but neither of them moved.
Glinda exhaled shakily, her fingers twitching in her lap.
She didn't know where to start.
But then, before she could think, before she could stop herself—
The words started tumbling out.
“I never wanted it,” she breathed, the words rushing out in a frantic, desperate stream. “I never wanted him to touch me. I never wanted any of it to happen, I never—” She cut herself off, pressing a hand to her temple, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before she forced herself to look at Elphaba.
Elphaba was still staring straight ahead.
Glinda’s throat tightend.
“Avaric knew,” she continued, voice unsteady. “He knew about me before I even figured it out myself. He used to make these—these awful little comments, these cruel little observations about how I looked at you, how I followed you around, how obvious it was. He—” Her breath stutterd. “He cornered me one day after practice, told me that if I didn’t want people talking, I should let him help me. That if I didn’t want everyone to know what I was, I needed to be seen with him.”
Elphaba’s fingers twitched against her knee.
Glinda noticed.
She was spiraling now, the words pouring out too fast to catch, too desperate to hold back.
“I thought he was just being cruel, just messing with me, but then he—” She cut herself off again, her breath shuddering. “He touched me, Elphie. He’d always grab my waist when he talked to me, put his hands on my back, lean too close. He—he pushed me against the lockers once after practice and kissed me, and I—” She pressed a hand against her mouth, shaking. “I didn’t want it, I swear, I didn’t, but I didn’t stop him, because I didn’t know what would happen if I did.”
Elphaba still didn't move, didn't speak.
But her breathing was too slow, too controlled, too sharp.
Glinda swiped at her eyes, her chest tightening. “And I was scared, Elphie. I was so, so scared, because I knew if I told you, you’d—you’d get angry. You’d fight him. And if you fought him, he’d tell everyone, and it wouldn’t just be me. It’d be you, too.”
Her voice broke.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she whispered, breathless. “I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t know how to get out of it without risking everything, so I just—I just let it happen. I let people think it was real, I let him put his hands on me, and every single time, I thought of you.” She laughed wetly, brokenly. “And then I started pulling away, because I thought if I just—if I just made you hate me, it would be easier. It would be safer.”
Elphaba flinched.
Glinda exhaled shakily, her hands trembling in her lap. “I told you you’d never been loved.”
Elphaba closed her eyes.
Glinda stared at her, watched the way her jaw clenched, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
“That was a lie,” she whispered.
Elphaba still didn't look at her.
Glinda’s breath shuddered.
Her fingers inched forward, hesitant, uncertain, reaching.
And then, slowly, carefully, she touched Elphaba’s hand.
Elphaba stiffened beneath the contact.
Glinda almost pulled away.
But before she could, Elphaba took her hand.
Her fingers closed around Glinda’s, warm, solid, grounding.
She hasn’t looked at her yet.
She hasn’t said anything.
But she took her hand.
Glinda swallowed past the lump in her throat.
Her voice was so quiet, so tentative, she almost wasn't sure she said it out loud.
“I know it’s a lie because I love you, Elphie.”
Elphaba’s grip tightened.
Glinda waited.
She waited for Elphaba to let go, to push her away, to tell her it doesn’t matter anymore, that she’s too late.
But Elphaba didn't let go.
She still didn't look at her.
But her fingers stayed wrapped around Glinda’s, steady and warm.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
The warmth of Elphaba’s fingers curled around Glinda’s should have been grounding, but it only made her breath come shorter, made her heart pound harder.
She wasn't letting go.
But she still wouldn't look at her.
Glinda swallowed, tightening her grip just slightly.
She didn't know if Elphaba even realized she was doing it, if she even knew she was still holding on.
She exhaled shakily, her fingers curling against Elphaba’s palm.
“I love you,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elphaba didn't move.
Glinda shifted slightly in her seat, turning toward her, watching the way Elphaba’s jaw clenched, the way her shoulders went stiff, the way her lips pressed into a thin, tight line.
She looked like she’s bracing for something.
Like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Like she didn't believe it.
Glinda’s chest tightened.
She breathed out slowly, her thumb brushing gently against the back of Elphaba’s hand. “You don’t believe me.”
Elphaba’s fingers twitched against hers.
She didn't deny it.
Glinda shifted closer, her voice soft, careful. “You think I said it just to say it.”
Elphaba exhaled, slow and controlled, but still— she didn't speak.
Glinda swallowed. “You think I don’t mean it.”
Elphaba’s grip tightened, just slightly.
Glinda let out a breathy, almost broken laugh. “Elphie.”
The nickname did something.
Elphaba flinched just barely, like it hit too close.
Glinda licked her lips, her voice steadier now, firmer. “I love you because you make me want to be brave.”
Elphaba’s fingers tensed, but she didn't pull away.
Glinda exhaled. “Because you’re the only person who has ever made me feel like I could just… exist. That I didn’t have to be perfect or likable or anything other than myself.” She shook her head slightly. “You always saw me before I even saw myself. And I love you for that.”
Elphaba’s grip was tighter now.
Glinda shiftd just a little closer. “I love you because you never let me get away with anything. Because you see through the act. Because you’re the smartest, most stubborn, most infuriating person I’ve ever met, and I love every single thing about you.”
Elphaba’s breathing stuttered.
Glinda tilted her head, watching her carefully. “You deserve to be loved, Elphie.”
Elphaba closed her eyes.
Her breath shuddered out of her.
Glinda felt her tremble, just barely.
She squeezed her hand, softer now, gentler. “Elphaba Thropp, I lov—"
Elphaba’s eyes finally opened. She turned her head, slowly, and finally, finally looked at her.
Her gaze was sharp, dark, burning in a way that made Glinda’s breath catch, she barely had time to react before—
“I love you, too.”
The words fell from Elphaba’s lips.
Glinda stopped breathing.
Elphaba still looked like she didn't know what the hell she was doing, like she’s terrified of saying the words out loud. But she didn't take them back.
She just watched her, waiting.
Glinda let out a shaky, almost disbelieving laugh.
Then, before she could even think—
She threw herself forward.
Elphaba caught her.
Her arms wrapped around Glinda before she even realized she was moving, pulling her into her lap, pulling her close, holding onto her like she might disappear.
Glinda buried herself against her, her fingers tangling into the fabric of her sweater, her breath coming in quick, unsteady gasps.
Elphaba pressed her face into Glinda’s curls, eyes squeezed shut, grip unrelenting.
For the first time, in what feels like forever—
They just held each other. No more running. No more pushing each other away. Just this. Just them.
Glinda clung to her, hands fisted in the fabric of her sweater, body pressed close, desperate and trembling.
Elphaba held her just as tightly.
She breathed her in, felt her shudder against her lips, absorbed every unsteady inhale, every broken exhale.
And then—just for a moment—she pulled away.
Glinda whimpered at the loss, trying to follow, but Elphaba cupped her face gently, just enough to hold her still.
She met her gaze.
Glinda’s eyes are red-rimmed, shining with unshed tears. Her lip trembled slightly, her breath still uneven. She looked so raw, so open, so impossibly fragile.
Elphaba’s chest tightened.
Her thumb stroked lightly over Glinda’s cheek, ignoring the slight burn of her tears.
And then, soft, certain, like it’s the easiest thing in the world—
“I love you.”
Glinda’s breath caught.
A fresh wave of tears spilled over, but this time, she laughed through it.
A wet, hiccupping, breathless laugh.
Elphaba smiled.
Not her usual smirk.
Not her teasing, sharp-edged grin.
A real smile.
A small one. A soft one. One meant only for Glinda.
And then, before Glinda could even think.
She leaned in and kissed her.
Glinda gasped against her lips, startled by the suddenness of it, but Elphaba was smiling into it now, and it was different.
Lighter.
Not desperate, not shaking, not like she was trying to make up for lost time.
Like she was playing with her.
Like she was trying to make her laugh.
Glinda did.
A real laugh this time, bubbling up between kisses, muffled and breathless.
“You’re—” she hiccuped, laughing into Elphaba’s mouth, “you’re smiling—”
“Mmm,” Elphaba hummed, tilting her head slightly, letting the corner of her mouth quirk against Glinda’s lips.
Glinda laughed harder.
Her tears didn't stop, but they aren’t sad anymore.
Elphaba felt her own chest ease, her own body soften.
She pressed another quick, teasing kiss to Glinda’s lips, then another, and another, and another, until Glinda was full-on giggling.
And Oz, Elphaba had never heard a sound better than this.
Glinda dropped her forehead against Elphaba’s shoulder, still laughing, still sniffling, still catching her breath.
Elphaba wrapped her arms around her again, pulling her close, rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back.
They sat there for a long time, just breathing, just holding, just existing together.
And when Glinda tilted her head up again, eyes still wet but shining brighter than before,
Elphaba kissed her one more time.
Because she could.
Because she wanted to.
Because she loved her.
And this time, Glinda kissed her back without shaking.
Without breaking.
Without holding anything back.
For the first time, in what felt like forever—
She kissed her back whole.
Chapter Text
Somehow, Glinda convinced Elphaba to come over. “My parents are away for the weekend... please Elphie? I need you right now.”
Elphaba could never bring herself to say no. Spoiled , she thought.
They made their way upstairs to Glindas room. Glinda let out a slow, shaky sigh as she sunk down onto her bed, the exhaustion pressing into her bones.
Elphaba closed the door behind them, watching her carefully.
The night had been too much, too long, too painful.
The laughter, the whispers, the slurs, the way the cheer team had turned on her so quickly— she had been holding it in for hours.
But now, she didn't have to.
Now, it was just them.
Elphaba moved without thinking, crossing the room, pulling back the covers, slipping beneath them.
She didn't say anything.
She just opened her arms.
And Glinda—tired, drained, unraveling—
crawled right into them.
She tucked herself against Elphaba’s chest, sighing as Elphaba pulled the blankets up around them, wrapping her completely in warmth.
Elphaba’s arms settled around her, one hand sliding into her curls, fingers threading through them absently, grounding, soothing.
Glinda pressed closer, face tucked into the hollow of Elphaba’s throat.
She inhaled softly.
And then, after a long moment—
“They told me to leave.”
Elphaba’s fingers stilled for half a second.
Glinda swallowed, voice small, quiet. “They called me disgusting...”
Elphaba’s grip tightened.
Her jaw clenched, her chest rose and fell a little sharper, but she didn't speak.
Not yet.
Glinda exhaled against her skin, warm and shaky. “It was like I never existed to them. Like everything before this—before you—meant nothing.”
Elphaba finally found her voice. “They never deserved you.”
Glinda closed her eyes, squeezing them shut.
Elphaba’s fingers traced gentle circles against her back, slow, steady, solid.
For a while, they didn't speak.
Glinda’s body softened, her breath evening out, her limbs growing heavier.
And then— she shifted slightly, pressing closer, her voice quieter now.
“I told everyone at that party that Avaric cries after sex.”
Elphaba’s froze.
Glinda smirked against her skin.
There’s a beat of silence— and then Elphaba bursted into laughter.
Not a small chuckle, not a quiet exhale—
Full, sharp, real laughter.
Glinda beamed.
She tilted her head slightly, watching as Elphaba laughed, really laughed, her shoulders shook, her grip loosened just enough to pull back and look at her.
“You—” Elphaba tried to catch her breath, shaking her head. “You said that?”
Glinda grinned. “I had to make sure he never recovers.”
Elphaba let out another sharp, breathless laugh, shaking her head.
Then—quieter, softer—she pulled her back against her chest.
Glinda sighed.
And slowly, without realizing it, they drifted.
Elphaba woke first.
The room was quiet, still, filled only with the soft sound of Glinda’s breathing.
The bedside lamp casted a warm, golden glow over the sheets, illuminating the gentle curve of Glinda’s cheek, the way her curls spill over the pillow, the way her lashes fluttered slightly as she dreamed.
She looked...
Soft.
Even after everything, even after crying for hours, even after the weight of the night— she was still the most beautiful thing Elphaba had ever seen, and Elphaba couldn't stop looking at her.
Her fingers tightened slightly where they rested against Glinda’s back, just to remind herself she was real, that she was here, that she was hers.
Then— Glinda stirred.
She shifted slightly, breath hitching, eyes fluttering open— just barely.
Elphaba exhaled softly.
And then— quietly, barely above a whisper—
“Are you okay?”
Glinda blinked up at her, slow, hazy, still half-asleep. She nodded, a sleepy smile playing across her lips.
Elphaba smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Try and sleep, my sweet. I’m here.”
Glinda sighed, warm and content, pressing her face against Elphaba’s collarbone.
And then, sleepy, soft, so small it’s almost a breath—
“Okay… my Elphie.”
Elphaba’s heart stuttered.
She should've let her rest.
She should've closed her eyes and let her drift off completely.
But she couldn't help it.
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Glinda’s lips.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Soft, slow, warm.
Glinda sighed against her, barely awake, and kissed her back.
And then— one last kiss to the forehead, lingering, reverent.
Elphaba pulled back just enough to whisper—
“I love you.”
Glinda smiled, sleepily, barely there, but real.
“I love you too.”
Elphaba watched her for a long moment, watched the way she breathed, slow and steady, finally, finally at peace.
And then, finally, Elphaba let herself sleep too.
The first thing Glinda registered was warmth.
The second thing was Elphaba’s arms around her.
She stirred slightly, shifting beneath the blankets, and immediately realized that Elphaba was holding onto her like she never intended to let go.
One arm draped across her waist, the other curled beneath her, and her face tucked against the top of Glinda’s curls, breathing slow and steady.
Perfect, Glinda thought drowsily.
And then—
Her phone buzzed violently against the nightstand.
She groaned, shifting to grab it—
But Elphaba tightened her grip immediately, pulling her closer, burying her face deeper into Glinda’s hair.
A low, gravelly murmur, barely awake:
“Shhh. No. We’re sleeping.”
Glinda froze.
Then— she smiled.
Soft. Small. So in love.
Her phone buzzed again.
Glinda sighed dramatically, reaching blindly, trying not to disturb Elphaba.
She squinted at the screen, blinking blearily.
And then— she snorted..
The group chat was going insane.
Elphaba grumbled.
Glinda shifted slightly, nestling her head into the crook of Elphaba’s neck, a small, lazy smile curling at her lips.
She tilted the phone toward her, scrolling.
“They want to know if we’re alive,” she murmured.
Elphaba huffed.
Glinda grinned, voice still soft with sleep. “Boq is worried, Crope and Tibbett are concerned, and Fiyero is emotionally torn between our well-being and his desire for waffles.”
Elphaba let out a quiet groan.
Glinda giggled, scrolling again.
“Oh, and apparently, if you don’t respond, Fiyero is sending Boq to your house because, and I quote, ‘she’d kill me first.’ ”
Elphaba exhaled sharply.
“Accurate.”
Glinda laughed, shifting again, resting her chin lightly against Elphaba’s chest.
“They’re requesting us at brunch,” she whispered, reading further. “Tibbett says if we don’t come, he’ll cry. Crope says he’ll die. Boq says Fiyero will also cry but pretend it’s about the waffles.”
Elphaba finally cracked one eye open.
“…They’re exhausting.”
Glinda grinned. “You love them.”
Elphaba closed her eyes again.
“Unfortunately.”
Glinda giggled.
She tilted her head back slightly, watching Elphaba’s face.
“Come to brunch with me?”
Elphaba sighed, pulling the blankets higher over both of them.
“No.”
Glinda gasped. “Elphaba Thropp, are you denying me breakfast?”
Elphaba peered at her, one eye barely open.
“You can have breakfast right here,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.
Glinda blinked, face burning.
Elphaba smirked, fully awake now.
“Oh.. oh Oz, Elphaba!” Glinda groaned, swatting at her arm.
Elphaba laughed.
Glinda huffed, but she was still smiling.
Then— softer, quieter—
“They just want to make sure we’re okay.”
Elphaba watched her.
Glinda met her gaze, searching.
“Come with me,” she murmured.
Elphaba exhaled.
She pushed a stray curl from Glinda’s face, tucking it behind her ear.
Then, reluctantly, finally—
“Fine.”
Glinda beamed.
She grabed her phone, quickly typing out a response.
Glinda: We’re coming.
The chat exploded with cheers and heart emojis.
Glinda laughed, setting her phone down, looking back at Elphaba.
“See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”
Glinda smirked. “Oh, I know.”
Elphaba groaned, pulling the blankets over her face.
Glinda gently tugged them back down, smiling.
She leaned in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to Elphaba’s cheek.
“Come on, Elphie. Let’s go make sure the boys don’t emotionally implode.”
Elphaba let herself be pulled.
She’s grumbled the entire time.
But she was smiling.
And Glinda noticed.
Chapter Text
By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Glinda was practically glowing.
Elphaba, on the other hand, looked like she was dragged there against her will.
Because, well— she was.
Glinda had literally pulled her out of bed, all but shoving her into clean clothes, and had given her a look so devastatingly persuasive that Elphaba had no choice but to go along with it.
Now, there they were, stepping inside the restaurant, Glinda holding Elphaba’s hand like she belonged there, and Elphaba still half-asleep, squinting against the morning light, muttering something about how brunch should be illegal.
Glinda squeezed her fingers.
Elphaba sighed.
The moment they stepped inside, a voice rang out across the restaurant.
“THERE THEY ARE.”
The entire table erupted.
Glinda laughed as Fiyero shot to his feet, arms wide like he was about to deliver a monologue. “You made it,” he said, eyes dramatically bright.
Boq sighed in relief, placing a hand over his heart. “Thank Oz.”
Crope clutched his chest as if they had just returned from war. “I almost didn’t survive the uncertainty.”
Tibbett nodded solemnly. “I was on the verge of tears, actually.”
Elphaba blinked at them, unimpressed, then turned toward Glinda, as if to confirm that this was her fault.
Glinda simply beamed, unbothered, and squeezed her hand again.
Elphaba exhaled slowly, turning back to the group.
“…I hate all of you.”
Before she could think about escape, she was being tackled.
Fiyero lunged first, arms wrapping around her, and before she could shove him off, Boq grabbed her from the other side. Crope and Tibbett piled on immediately, squeezing her and Glinda into a mess of tangled limbs, warmth, and emotional damage.
“Let go of me before I set this entire restaurant on fire,” Elphaba groaned, voice muffled into Fiyero’s shoulder.
Crope sniffled dramatically. “I’m just so happy we’re all together again.”
“I’m happy,” Tibbett corrected, “but also very upset that you two made me worry.”
“I was also worried,” Boq added.
Fiyero, still holding onto her, pulled back just enough to clutch her shoulders with deep sincerity. “I was also worried,” he said, “but mostly about my waffles.”
Elphaba glared at him.
Glinda giggled into her shoulder.
Tibbett sniffed, wiping away an entirely fake tear. “Can we just sit down before I start crying?”
Elphaba did not resist when Glinda pulled her toward the booth.
She had won this battle.
The war, however, was ongoing.
The moment they settled in, the absolute disaster of food orders began.
Boq, the only normal one, ordered a standard breakfast.
Fiyero, however, flipped the menu shut with far too much enthusiasm.
“I’ll have the chocolate chip pancakes,” he declared, “but also the French toast. And a side of bacon. And I want to steal half of Crope’s omelet.”
Crope gasped, scandalized. “You absolutely will not.”
Fiyero ignored him.
Tibbett sighed. “Fine. But I’m stealing Glinda’s hashbrowns.”
Glinda gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You will do no such thing.”
Elphaba watched them argue over stolen food with a deep, exhausted sigh. When the waiter turned to her, she didn’t even look at the menu.
“Coffee.”
Glinda smacked her arm. “Elphie.”
Elphaba huffed. “Fine. And a bagel.”
Fiyero groaned. “That’s it? That’s all you’re getting? You’re impossible.”
“You just ordered enough food to feed a small army, ” Elphaba pointed out.
“I’m bulking,” Fiyero said.
Boq snorted.. “You are not bulking, you’re just insatiable.”
Glinda smiled, shaking her head as she squeezed Elphaba’s hand under the table.
Elphaba blinked down at their fingers.
And just like that, the conversation in the group chat that morning made sense.
They weren’t just making sure they were okay.
They were making sure Elphaba was okay.
Because they knew.
Because even if they hadn’t said it outright, even if she and Glinda hadn’t said it outright—
They saw what was happening between them.
Elphaba swallowed and looked away.
As they ate, conversation shifted into their usual ridiculousness.
At some point, Fiyero stole a bite from Glinda’s plate.
Glinda gasped, offended.
Crope snickered. “See, insatiable.”
Glinda, without thinking, smirked.
“You know who else is insatiable?” she mused.
The entire table went dead silent.
Elphaba’s fork stalled midair.
Fiyero’s eyes lit up.
“Oh my, ” Tibbett breathed.
Boq whispered, “She’s too powerful.”
Crope clutched his chest. “Say more.”
Glinda paused.
Her face flushed.
She had not meant to say that out loud.
Panic flickered across her face for a split second—then, before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Never mind, I love you, Elphie.”
Silence.
Absolute, stunned silence.
Elphaba froze.
The table erupted.
Fiyero slapped the table. “I KNEW IT.”
Crope let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh, Oz, we should’ve made bets—”
Boq groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “We let this happen.”
Tibbett was absolutely tearing up.
Glinda, flustered, glowing, looked like she just got caught in something terrible and wonderful, laughed, and tucked herself closer to Elphaba, hiding her face in her shoulder.
Elphaba, who had been internally screaming for the past ten seconds, swallowed hard, exhaled, and blinked down at Glinda.
Then, quietly, softly, just for her—
“I love you too.”
Crope actually did cry.
Fiyero put a hand over his heart. “This is the best day of my life.”
Boq groaned. "Can we just eat?”
Glinda, still grinning, still blushing, pressed her face into Elphaba’s neck, and whispered,
“Oz help me, I might actually love them too.”
Elphaba, sighed deeply, pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Unfortunately,” she murmured, “same.”
And for the first time in a long time—
Everything was exactly as it should be.
Chapter Text
By the time brunch was over, the warm glow of the morning had started to fade.
The laughter, the teasing, the easy, effortless joy—it had been real, grounding, necessary.
But Monday was coming.
And Glinda knew it.
The moment they stepped outside, the weight settled back onto her shoulders.
Fiyero was the first to notice. “You okay, Glinda?”
Glinda plastered on a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
She exhaled, shifting slightly as they started walking toward the parking lot. “I’m fine.”
Elphaba didn't buy it for a second.
Her fingers tightened around Glinda’s, steady, grounding.
Glinda squeezed back.
She was not fine, but she was trying to be.
Fiyero, Boq, Crope, and Tibbett continued, still talking, still laughing, still running on the high of brunch.
Glinda tried to keep up.
She nodded at the right moments, smiled when she should, but the closer they get to the cars, the more her mind drifted.
Monday.
The school halls, the whispers, the stares.
The sneering, cruel laughter.
She knew what was coming.
She knew her old friends weren't just going to ignore her.
They were going to punish her for being different.
For being with Elphaba.
For choosing herself.
A knot formed in her throat, tight and suffocating.
She swallowed hard.
Then, quietly, “They’re going to ruin me.”
The group stoped walking.
The weight of her words settles into the air.
Fiyero, Boq, Crope, and Tibbett exchanged looks.
And then—they closed in.
“Listen to me.”
Glinda startled as Crope stepped directly in front of her, eyes sharp, fierce.
“We are not letting those miserable, talentless, self-absorbed morons ruin you.”
Tibbett nodded. "They don’t deserve to be in your orbit anyway.”
Boq sighed. “I know it’s going to be awful, Glinda. But you’re not alone in this.”
Fiyero wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing. “And if anyone says anything to you, they’ll have to deal with all of us.”
Elphaba, standing just slightly behind Glinda, huffed.
“If they even get the chance,” she muttered darkly.
Glinda tilted her head slightly. “Elphie?”
Elphaba’s grip tightened on her hand.
“We’re not letting them hurt you,” Voice low, steady, certain.
Fiyero grinned. “You planning murder, Thropp?”
Elphaba didn't blink. “Yes.”
Boq groaned. “No murder.”
Elphaba tilted her head. “Manslaughter?”
Crope gasped. “At least let me help.”
Glinda laughed, but it’s breathless, shaky.
Her blinks rapid, eyes stinging, overwhelmed by how much they cared, how much they loved her. They saw past her attempt at acting fine.
Tibbett reached out, squeezing her arm gently. “We’ve got you, okay?”
Glinda inhaled deeply, shakily.
And then—nodded.
“Okay.”
The group finally split toward their cars, but Elphaba lingered.
Glinda is already in the passenger seat, watching as she hesitated before closing the door.
“Elphie?”
Elphaba exhaled, looking at her, really looking.
“If anyone touches you,” she said, voice quiet but deadly.
Glinda shivered.
She didn't doubt her.
She nodded. “I know.”
Elphaba finally exhaled, closing the door before walking around to the driver’s seat.
And as they pulled out of the parking lot, Glinda watched her.
The way her fingers gripped the wheel.
The way her jaw tightened.
The way she looked like she was one wrong move away from destruction.
Glinda reached over, resting a hand on her thigh, squeezing gently.
“I’ll be okay,” she whispered.
Elphaba didn't answer right away.
Then—quieter, strained—
“You better be.”
Monday was coming.
The world was about to change.
But Glinda knew, without a doubt—
She wouldn't be facing it alone.
Glinda barely took a breath as she stepped through the doors.
The air in the hallway was different. It was heavy, thick, buzzing with something electric. It lingered against her skin, a slow, creeping sensation that wrapped around her shoulders and pulls.
Her stomach tightened.
She knew what was coming.
The first set of eyes landed on her before she even reached the lockers.
A tilt of the head. A whisper behind a cupped hand. A quiet laugh, sharp and knowing.
She kept walking.
Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, nails pressing into the fabric. She didn't look. She didn't stop. She refused to—
“Morning, dyke.”
The word struck like a slap.
The sound of laughter followed, weaving through the air, biting at her heels.
Her breath caught. Her fingers trembled where they gripped the strap of her bag.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then—
A hand wrapped around her wrist.
Firm. Grounding. Familiar.
Glinda exhaled, sharp and unsteady.
Elphaba had already stepping in front of her.
The hallway stilled.
Elphaba didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to.
She was a force without sound, a weight that shifted the air without needing to push.
The girl stood a few feet away—a girl who used to be her teammate, who still wore the uniform like it made her important—smirked, arms crossed over her chest.
“What?” she hummed, feigning innocence. “Didn’t realize your little girlfriend needed a bodyguard.”
Elphaba said nothing.
The silence was thick, stretching longer than it should.
Glinda swallowed. She could feel the heat of Elphaba’s body in front of her, the tension thrumming through her veins, the way her fingers had gone rigid around her wrist.
Then, finally, Elphaba spoke.
“Say that again.”
Her voice was steady. Quiet.
But it wasnt soft.
The girl faltered, just slightly.
The smirk remained, but it was more of a habit now, something meant to cover the sudden, fleeting look of uncertainty in her eyes.
Glinda watched her try to recover, watched her adjust her stance, watched her pretend she wasn't standing before someone who had never cared for the rules of social hierarchy.
“It was just a joke,” the girl said, but there was a hesitance now.
Elphaba exhaled. It was slow, measured.
She took a step forward.
The girl flinched.
“It’s not funny,” Elphaba said, her voice still quiet, still even. Too even.
Glinda swore she could hear her pulse in her ears.
“If you ever speak to her like that again,” Elphaba murmured, head tilting just slightly, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”
The words settled into the air, heavier than they should've been.
The girl shifted. Her eyes flicked toward the crowd still watching, as if expecting someone to step in, as if expecting a reaction she isn’t getting.
And then, like she didn't want to test the weight of that promise, she muttered something under her breath and disappeared into the crowd.
The hallway lingered in silence. Elphaba exhaled.
Her fingers relaxed around Glinda’s wrist, sliding down, brushing against her palm before finally releasing her.
Glinda forced herself to breathe.
Elphaba turned toward her, green eyes scanning, sharp edges softening just slightly. “Are you okay?”
Glinda noded, swallowing hard.
Elphaba didn't push. She just reached out. Tucked a loose curl behind Glindas ear and nodded.
And then she turned and kept walking, pulling Glinda with her.
No one stopped them, no one said a word.
By the time they reached the lockers, they were already waiting.
Fiyero leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze scanning the hallway like he was already taking notes on who needed to be dealt with first.
Boq stood beside him, hands shoved in his pockets, expression unreadable, but his attention flicked toward Glinda the second she stepped into view.
Crope and Tibbett were still mid-conversation, but their voices dropped as soon as they saw her.
Glinda barely had time to brace herself before Crope was already stepping forward.
“Who was it?” he asked, voice deceptively casual.
Tibbett tilted his head, adjusting his bag strap. “I just need a name.”
Glinda exhaled, shaking her head.
Fiyero pushed off the wall, lifting a brow as he looked toward Elphaba. “This about the girl who ran away the second she realized you were a flight risk?”
Glinda huffed out a breath, barely a laugh. “That’s a little dramatic.”
Tibbett raised a brow. “Did she or did she not flee?”
Glinda didn't answer.
Fiyero grinned. “Exactly.”
Elphaba said nothing.
She leaned against the locker beside Glinda, close enough to touch, close enough to keep her steady, close enough to make sure no one forgets she’s there.
And Glinda?
She stood between them all, between the safety, the weight, the solid presence of them.
She had been so sure she’d have to do this alone.
But now—
She didn't.
The whispers didn't stop.
The laughter still curled through the air.
The stares still burnt against her skin.
The cheer team didn't just ignore her.
They watched her, waiting, waiting, waiting—
Like she was something they planned to tear apart the moment they find the chance.
But every time her shoulders locked, every time her hands trembled at her sides, every time she felt the heat of their glares pressing into her spine—
She remembered.
Fiyero, stretching dramatically in the middle of the hallway, blocking the view, pulling focus just to make it easier for her to breathe.
Boq, walking beside her between classes like it was any other day.
Crope and Tibbett, linking their arms through hers, laughing too loudly, forcing the space to feel lighter, even if it wasn't.
And Elphaba.
Always there.
Always watching.
Always ready.
And when the final bell rang, when she stepped out into the open air, when she finally inhaled deep enough to feel it settle in her chest—
She knew.
The worst of it wasn't over.
Tomorrow would still be a war.
But she would not be fighting alone.
The car was quiet, parked just outside Glinda’s house, but the world inside it is burning.
Glinda was straddling Elphaba’s lap, fingers tangled in the braids at the back of her head, breathless and buzzing, caught somewhere between laughter and something heavier.
Elphaba’s hands pressed against her waist, holding her steady, holding her close, fingertips teasing at the hem of her shirt, tracing warm patterns into her skin.
They weren't in a rush.
They weren't careful, either.
Glinda tilted her head, deepening the kiss, sinking further into the warmth of it, the weight of it, the feeling of having something that is entirely hers.
Elphaba exhaled sharply against her lips, fingers tightening, and Glinda grinned because she knew exactly what she was doing.
“You’re impossible,” Elphaba muttered, voice low, edged with amusement.
Glinda smirked. “And yet, you adore me.”
Elphaba didn't argue. She just nodded, humming softly, a sound of approval.
She just pulled her in again, one hand sliding up Glinda’s spine, guiding, grounding, reminding her that she is real.
Glinda sighed into it, a sound of satisfaction and want all at once.
She loved this.
She loved Elphaba.
And she never wanted this to end.
Then, suddenly, the thought slammed into her.
The poetry.
Glinda froze.
Elphaba noticed immediately.
She leaned back slightly, blinking up at her, a breathless mix of flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips.
“What?” she murmured, voice still soft, still dizzy from the heat between them.
Glinda stared at her.
For a second, she couldn't believe she forgot.
Then scrambling, shifting, nearly toppling off Elphaba’s lap as she reached behind her.
“I need to show you something.”
Elphaba groaned. “If this is another excuse to distract me, I swear,"
Glinda laughed, shoving at her shoulder. “Shut up. This is serious.”
Elphaba huffed but let her move, watching as she reached for something behind the driver’s seat.
Glinda’s fingers finally brushed against her bag, and she tugged it forward, searching, flipping through loose papers, before finally finding it.
The notebook.
Elphaba saw it and tilted her head.
“What is that?”
Glinda exhaled, suddenly nervous in a way she wasn’t expecting.
She sat back down properly, still straddling Elphaba’s lap, but this time, there’s no teasing in the way she looked at her.
Just something real.
Something she wanted Elphaba to have.
She pressed the notebook into her hands.
“Read it,” she said, voice quieter now.
Elphaba studied her.
She didn't ask any more questions.
She just flipped open the first page.
And then
The world changed.
The handwriting, neat and deliberate, pressed into the pages with certainty.
Elphaba barely had to read the first few lines before she understood.
Before it hit her.
This was about her.
Every line. Every curve of ink, every careful description, every sharp-edged confession written in the quiet spaces where no one could hear.
She kept reading.
Some we're short and cutting.
I do not believe in fate.
And yet, I think the universe may have built itself around you.
Some we're longer, heavier, written with the weight of something unsaid for too long.
There are days when I think of you in colors I have never seen before.
When I try to shape the words around your name and find them empty.
When I am left only with the sound of you in my lungs and the feeling of something I cannot hold.
And some ached.
If I had met you before I learned to hide myself, I think I would have loved you loudly.
I think I would have let the whole world know.
But I did not know how to be soft without breaking. And I did not know how to want you without losing myself in the wanting.
Elphaba’s hands tightened around the pages.
Her breath shuddered out of her.
She flipped forward and finds one of the most recent entries, something written not long ago.
It’s short.
Only a few lines.
But it is enough.
You are the first thing I have ever loved that did not ask me to be someone else.
Elphaba stilled.
Something inside her cracked open, slow and quiet and inevitable.
She closed the notebook carefully, hands lingering over the cover like she didn't know what to do with it.
Then, voice barely above a whisper.
“You wrote all of this?”
Glinda noded. “For you. About you.”
Elphaba didn't move.
She didn't blink.
She just looked at her.
Because she had spent her whole life trying to see herself through the world’s eyes.
And for the first time, she saw herself through Glinda’s.
She swallowed, fingers flexing slightly around the notebook’s edges.
Finally, quiet, vulnerable, raw.
“What do you want me to do with this? I— can I?”
Glinda tilted her head, the answer so simple. “Keep it.”
Elphaba exhaled.
And then, without thinking.
She pulled Glinda closer.
Her hands found their way back to her waist, steady, grounding, warm.
She pressed their foreheads together, let herself breathe in the feeling of being wanted in a way she never expected.
She didn't know what to say.
She didn't know how to hold this impossible, ridiculous, beautiful girl who has loved her in secret for so long.
So she just pressed a kiss to Glinda’s temple.
And then softer, quieter, like she was still trying to believe it
“Thank you.”
They didn't move for a while.
The world outside the car still there humming with the sounds of a summer night, stretching golden and endless.
But inside, it's just them.
Glinda smiled, tracing absentminded circles against the back of Elphaba’s neck.
Then soft, teasing, warm
“I think I might love you even more now.”
Elphaba huffed a laugh, shaking her head.
Then, smirking slightly, she tugged Glinda back into her. “You better.”
And as the night stretched out before them, as the past fades into something golden and far away.
Glinda leaned into her.
And never looked back.
Pages Navigation
1_step2_steps on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2025 07:24PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:58PM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 2 Sun 23 Feb 2025 07:31PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 2 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:26AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 3 Sun 23 Feb 2025 07:42PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 3 Sun 23 Feb 2025 11:05PM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 5 Sun 23 Feb 2025 08:01PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 5 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:25AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 6 Sun 23 Feb 2025 08:14PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 6 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:25AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 8 Sun 23 Feb 2025 08:59PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 8 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:24AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 9 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:05PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 9 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:24AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 10 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:14PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 10 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:23AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 11 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:20PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 11 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:23AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 12 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:29PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 12 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:22AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 13 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:47PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 13 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:22AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 14 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:55PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 14 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:21AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 15 Sun 23 Feb 2025 09:57PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 15 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:21AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 16 Sun 23 Feb 2025 10:06PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 16 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:21AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 17 Sun 23 Feb 2025 10:14PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 17 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:20AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 18 Sun 23 Feb 2025 10:33PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 18 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:20AM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 18 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:27AM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 18 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:33AM UTC
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Perseus_Pr on Chapter 19 Thu 20 Feb 2025 06:04AM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 19 Thu 20 Feb 2025 04:39PM UTC
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1_step2_steps on Chapter 19 Sun 23 Feb 2025 10:39PM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 19 Mon 24 Feb 2025 10:19AM UTC
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goodtitswickedheart on Chapter 19 Sat 05 Apr 2025 05:54AM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 19 Sat 05 Apr 2025 09:23AM UTC
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Perseus_Pr on Chapter 20 Thu 20 Feb 2025 06:07AM UTC
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ThroppAndBubbles on Chapter 20 Thu 20 Feb 2025 04:38PM UTC
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