Chapter 33
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 wants to say something but doesn’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 closed the book 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. “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’tmeet his gaze.
She just followed Elphaba outside.