Chapter 10
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. "Oh, Oz. 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.