Between The Lines

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, Glinda. 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.