Chapter 37
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 wastrying 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’s 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.