Inconveniently Yours

Elphaba heard the front door slam and barely contained her smirk.

She didn’t bother looking up from her book as Glinda stalked into the dorm, heels clicking furiously against the floor. The air in the room was charged, thick with something tangible—anger, frustration, and something else Elphaba couldn’t quite name.

She had been waiting for this.

Sure enough, she heard the sharp inhale, the telltale rustle of items being touched, inspected, realized.

Then—

"What. Did. You. Do."

Elphaba turned the page, perfectly unbothered. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You touched my things." Glinda’s voice was sharp, shaking just slightly, but still coated in venom.

Elphaba finally lifted her gaze, locking onto Glinda’s wild-eyed fury. "Are you sure you didn’t just misplace them?"

Glinda huffed, exasperated, throwing her arms up. "You are so childish."

Elphaba tilted her head. "You’re the one throwing a tantrum."

She saw the way Glinda’s jaw clenched, the way her hands curled into fists before she forced them loose again. Interesting.

Elphaba should have been smug. She should have been delighted that her little prank had thrown Glinda off balance. But there was something about the way she was standing there, vibrating with unspoken rage, that made Elphaba’s stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with victory.

Glinda looked… unsteady. Tired.

A flicker of hesitation ran through her. Had she gone too far?

No. That wasn’t the game they played.

Elphaba let her smirk settle back into place, let her tone turn mocking. "You seem upset. Would you like to talk about it?"

Glinda’s glare burned. "You’re pathetic."

The words landed heavier than expected. Elphaba wasn’t sure why.

She masked the sting with a lazy shrug. "You’re predictable."

Glinda’s nostrils flared. Without another word, she stormed toward her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Elphaba exhaled, letting her smirk drop as soon as she was alone.

Something about this didn’t feel as satisfying as it should have.

Then—

A horrified shriek split through the dorm.

Elphaba bit back a laugh, rolling onto her side and flipping another page. Now it was satisfying.

This was not over.

Glinda didn’t waste time.

She stormed back into the common area, fire in her eyes, her makeup slightly smudged from rubbing at her ruined products.

"You think you’re so clever, don’t you?" she snapped.

Elphaba smirked, feigning innocence. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Glinda saw red.

"You childish, miserable little freak!" Glinda spat, her voice shaking with rage. "Do you get some sick pleasure out of ruining things for me? Does it make you feel better about your pathetic existence?"

Elphaba’s smirk faltered for a second before snapping back into place, razor-sharp. "Oh, I’m sorry. Did I inconvenience you? That must be so hard for you, Princess."

Glinda’s breath came fast, her hands clenched into fists. "You’re obsessed with me. You act like you don’t care, but all you do is get in my way."

"Right, because I love sharing a space with someone who thinks the sun shines out of her own—"

"At least people actually like me!" Glinda cut in, stepping forward. "You walk around acting like you’re better than everyone, like you’re above all this. But you’re just bitter because no one wants you."

Elphaba’s expression darkened, something sharp flashing behind her eyes. "No one wants me? That’s funny, coming from the girl who loses her mind the second I don’t play along."

Glinda’s face went pale. "Shut up."

Elphaba tilted her head, her smirk sharpening. "Why? Because I finally said it? Because I finally pointed out how much it bothers you? How much time you spend worrying about me? How much you care?"

Glinda’s breathing turned shallow, her nails digging into her palms. "I don’t—"

"Oh, please." Elphaba rolled her eyes. "You think I don’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching? The way you followed me around high school, pretending to hate me but always knowing exactly where I was? Like with Milla? You remember Milla, don’t you? The girl you stared at from the sidelines? The one you couldn’t stop watching?"

Glinda’s breath hitched, her entire body locking up.

Elphaba pressed forward, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "Tell me, Glinda, was I just another distraction? Another person to chase so no one noticed you weren’t running toward what you were supposed to want?""

"Shut up!" Glinda shoved her.

Elphaba barely stumbled, but her smirk finally vanished. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and for a second, they just stood there, breathing hard, glaring, too close.

Glinda’s heart pounded. Her whole body vibrated with rage, with something else she refused to name—something that burned, humiliated her, because Elphaba could see through her. Because no matter how hard she fought, no matter how much she performed, Elphaba saw right past it. And she hated that.

Elphaba’s voice was lower when she spoke again, her usual teasing lilt gone. "You act like I’m the problem, but you’re the one who’s always been desperate for my attention. You hated me in high school, and yet you always knew where I was. Always had something to say. Always had to make sure I noticed you. And now, you’re still here, losing your mind because I won’t give you exactly what you want."

Glinda’s stomach dropped.

She slapped her.

The sound cracked through the room like a gunshot.

Elphaba didn’t flinch. She just stared at her, something unreadable in her eyes, her cheek burning where Glinda’s hand had connected.

Glinda couldn’t breathe.

She had never hit someone before. Not like this. Not in a way that meant something.

Elphaba’s mouth twitched like she wanted to say something, but instead, she just let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "There she is. The real Glinda Upland."

Glinda’s throat closed. She turned on her heel and walked away before Elphaba could see the tears forming in her eyes.

Elphaba exhaled sharply, standing rooted in place as Glinda stormed off, the air between them still crackling with something unresolved. She lifted a hand to her burning cheek, fingers grazing the spot where Glinda's palm had connected.

She had expected yelling. Maybe even some ridiculous tantrum. But this—

This had felt different.

Elphaba wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she knew one thing for certain.

She had finally hit a nerve she wasn’t sure she was ready to touch.

Glinda disappeared into her room, the door slamming shut behind her. Silence settled over the dorm, thick and suffocating. For the first time, the fight didn’t feel like a game.

Elphaba let out a breath and turned away, dragging a hand through her hair.

No, this wasn’t over.

But it was no longer just about revenge.

-

Glinda locked the door behind her, hands shaking as she pressed her back against it. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else.

She tore off her earrings, her necklace—anything that felt too much on her skin—and let them drop onto the dresser. The slap still burned in her palm, a physical reminder of how far she had let this go.

She wanted to hate her.

Wanted to forget the way Elphaba’s expression had shifted from smug to something almost wounded.

Instead, she stormed into the bathroom, gripping the sink as she glared at herself in the mirror. Her reflection was a mess—eyes too bright, lips parted like she had just run a marathon. She hated it. She hated all of it.

Elphaba wasn’t supposed to get to her.

And yet, she was shaking.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face, desperate to erase the feeling.

In her room, Elphaba sat on the edge of her bed, fingers still ghosting over her cheek where Glinda had struck her. The sting had dulled, but the weight of it remained.

She had wanted to push Glinda. She had wanted to win.

Then why did it feel like she had lost?

She sighed, pulling out her skincare routine—a collection of oils and balms, things that kept her from having to use water at all. She worked mechanically, massaging the product into her skin, but her thoughts were anything but detached.

She replayed the fight over and over, dissecting every look, every word, every breath.

She had seen Glinda mad before.

But not like this.

Not with tears threatening to spill. Not with a slap that had clearly shocked even her.

Elphaba exhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Then, through the silence, she heard it.

A giggle. A soft murmur. The sound of a door opening—then clicking shut again.

Elphaba’s jaw clenched before she even knew why.

Glinda hadn’t just gone to bed.

Then came the sound. Loud. Unapologetic. Deliberate.

A giggle. A playful, breathy whisper. The click of a belt being undone, followed by the soft rustling of fabric. Then, silence—just long enough to be deafening.

And then it started.

Fifteen minutes later, the unmistakable rhythm of a creaking mattress filled the dorm, punctuated by muffled laughter, breathless sighs, and just enough noise to make sure it was heard.

Elphaba’s entire body locked up.

She pressed her lips together, trying—failing—to not react. To pretend it didn’t register, didn’t sink under her skin like a slow, festering ache.

This wasn’t just Glinda having a good time. This was a message.

Another giggle. A gasp. Something that sounded like Fiyero’s name, but too theatrical, too intentional.

Elphaba clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt.

Glinda was doing this on purpose.