Chapter 12
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 with them 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. "Yes. 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 morning, 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 it personally offended you."
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. "Oh, 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.