Inconveniently Yours

Elphaba sat on the edge of her bed, shirt discarded, fingers shaking as she carefully dabbed oil over the inflamed skin. The sting radiated through her chest, a deep, pulsing heat that made her jaw clench, but it was nothing compared to the twisting ache in her stomach.

She had known Glinda could be cruel. Had felt it before, in sharp words and dismissive gestures. But this—

This had been different.

She swallowed hard, eyes unfocused as she stared at the wall. Glinda had wanted to win. She had wanted to prove something. And she had, hadn’t she? She had won.

Elphaba had never felt so disgustingly aware of her own body as she did now, marred, damaged, and raw—and because of Glinda.

Glinda hesitated in the doorway, her fingers twisting together. Elphaba didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her presence, just kept her focus on tending to the burns littering her chest.

Elphaba didn’t move.

Glinda swallowed hard, forcing herself to take a step forward.

"Elphaba…"

Glinda’s voice was quiet. Almost small.

Elphaba laughed. It was bitter, humorless, and sharp enough to cut. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

A beat of silence.

"I just—" Glinda’s voice faltered, and for once, she sounded… uncertain. "I didn’t know it would be that bad."

Elphaba scoffed, shaking her head. "That’s the thing, isn’t it? You didn’t think. You never do. You just act, and the rest of us are supposed to deal with the consequences."

Glinda’s breath hitched, standing just a few feet away now, staring at Elphaba’s rigid posture. "I—"

"Don’t." Elphaba’s voice dropped, cold and razor-sharp. "Don’t stand out there and pretend you feel bad about this. We both know you only regret it because you saw what it did. If it hadn’t been this bad, you’d still be gloating."

Another silence.

Glinda hated the way her chest tightened, how Elphaba’s words cut her down so effortlessly. She wanted to argue, wanted to say something—anything—to make this not feel like the worst thing she had ever done.

But she couldn’t.

Because Elphaba was right.

"I won’t tell anyone," Elphaba continued, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. "If that’s what you’re worried about. No need to tarnish your perfect image."

Glinda’s stomach turned. "That’s not—"

"Save it." Elphaba’s voice was empty. "We’re done, Glinda. Whatever this was. Whatever game we were playing. Consider it over."

A lump formed in Glinda’s throat. "Elphie—"

Elphaba finally turned, her face unreadable, eyes dark with something Glinda couldn’t name. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Her eyes were unreadable. But her expression was clear.

Elphaba’s stare didn’t waver as she stepped forward, closing the gap between them just enough for the air to feel heavy. "Don’t call me that.” she said, voice cold and final. Then, without another word, she turned and disappeared into her bathroom, leaving Glinda standing alone, her heart hammering in her chest.

And for the first time in a long, long time, she felt like she had truly lost.

-

Glinda barely slept.

She had tried. She had curled up in her bed, forced her eyes shut, and willed herself into unconsciousness. But every time she drifted close to sleep, she saw it again—

The burns.

She had never thought much about Elphaba’s allergy before. It had been a fact, something she had filed away under interesting but irrelevant. But now? Now, it was seared into her memory. The way Elphaba had flinched. The way she had looked at Glinda like she was something cruel.

And she had been.

She stared at the ceiling, fists clenched in the sheets. What had she done?

-

By the time morning arrived, she was exhausted, but no less miserable. She hesitated before stepping into the common area, half expecting Elphaba to be there.

But the dorm was silent.

Elphaba was already gone.

Her skin still throbbed, but she had bandaged it as best as she could. The physical pain was manageable—it was the other feeling she couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just anger. It wasn’t even betrayal. It was something worse.

She had never expected kindness from Glinda. She wasn’t that naïve. But she had—deep down, stupidly—thought she knew the rules of their game. That no matter how sharp the insults got, no matter how petty the revenge cycles became, there were lines that wouldn’t be crossed.

But Glinda had crossed them.

And the worst part?

Elphaba wasn’t sure if it hurt more because of what she had done or because of who had done it.

She needed to get out of the dorm. Away from the lingering scent of Glinda’s expensive perfume, away from the echoes of last night.

So she left before Glinda could even see her.

-

By the time she arrived at her first class—History of Oz with Dr. Dillamond—she was already on edge. The lecture hall was large, filled with students buzzing with first-day energy, but Elphaba kept her head down, sliding into a seat near the front. Dr. Dillamond was one of the few professors at Shiz that Elphaba actually respected, and she wasn’t about to let anything distract her.

She wasn’t, however, expecting Glinda to walk in moments later.

Elphaba’s entire body stiffened.

Glinda hesitated for only half a second before continuing inside, perfectly poised, as if the sight of Elphaba hadn’t rattled her. She took a seat near the middle, surrounded by Pfannee and Shenshen, pretending everything was fine.

It wasn’t fine.

Dr. Dillamond launched into an opening lecture about the power struggles throughout Oz’s history, but Elphaba barely heard it.

Because for the first time ever, Glinda wasn’t stealing glances at her. Wasn’t watching her from across the room, wasn’t sending pointed looks when something annoyed her.

And for reasons she refused to name, that bothered her more than it should have.

Because Elphaba was ignoring her.

Not in their usual way—not the sarcastic, competitive push-and-pull they had fallen into over the years. This was different.

Elphaba didn’t look at her.

Didn’t acknowledge her.

Didn’t react at all.

By the time she reached Literature and Ethics with Madame Morrible, her nerves were frayed. The woman was as awful as her name suggested, droning on about moral obligations while barely masking her disdain for half the class. Glinda couldn’t focus.

And then—just her luck—Elphaba walked in.

She took a seat near the back, pulling out a notebook without hesitation, acting as if Glinda didn’t exist.

Glinda clenched her fists. Fine. Two could play that game.

She lifted her chin, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she crossed her legs, making a show of ignoring Elphaba, even though her entire body was hyperaware of her presence.

Pfannee nudged her. "Ugh, can you believe we have to suffer through this class together? This professor is miserable."

"Completely insufferable," Shenshen added.

Glinda just hummed, staring ahead, refusing to look back.

By the time the class ended, she felt like she was going to explode.

The Shiz library was one of the grandest buildings on campus, its towering shelves filled with centuries of knowledge and dust-covered tomes. It was also, conveniently, one of the few places students could gather for a quiet meal between classes—though quiet wasn’t exactly a guarantee where their group was concerned.

Elphaba had arrived first, claiming a table in the back corner, far from the main foot traffic. Boq had shown up next, plopping down across from her and immediately launching into a complaint about his economics professor. Crope and Tibbett followed soon after, balancing their trays of overpriced cafeteria food and looking far too amused for this early in the semester.

"So," Crope began, spearing a cherry tomato with his fork. "On a scale of one to catastrophic, how’s everyone’s first day going?"

"Catastrophic," Boq grumbled, flipping through his syllabus. "I already have three papers due this month."

"I’d say tragic," Tibbett added, sighing dramatically. "Madame Morrible assigned three chapters of ethics reading, and we all know I have none."

Elphaba snorted, but her amusement was short-lived when she caught sight of Glinda entering the library.

She wasn’t alone. Pfannee and Shenshen flanked her, their high-pitched giggles like nails on a chalkboard. Glinda herself was immaculate as always, but there was a tension in her shoulders that only Elphaba seemed to notice.

And then—just for a moment—Glinda’s eyes flickered toward their table.

Elphaba looked away first.

"Ooooh," Crope whispered, leaning closer. "Did you see that? Did anyone else see that?"

"See what?" Boq asked, genuinely confused.

"The look," Tibbett supplied, voice dripping with mischief. "There was definitely a look."

"There was no look," Elphaba muttered, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary force.

"There was absolutely a look," Crope countered. "And now she’s walking away like she didn’t just check in on you. Fascinating."

"Not fascinating," Elphaba corrected, voice tight. "Annoying."

Crope and Tibbett exchanged knowing glances but said nothing.

Glinda, meanwhile, had settled into a table across the room, but Elphaba could feel her presence like a storm cloud pressing against the edges of her consciousness.

The food on her plate suddenly seemed a lot less appetizing.

Crope watched Elphaba push her salad around for a few moments before setting his fork down with exaggerated care. "Okay. Spill."

Elphaba didn’t look up. "Spill what?"

"Oh, I don’t know, maybe why you’re acting like Glinda Upland just stole your firstborn child?" Crope mused, propping his chin in his hand. "I mean, I know you two live to make each other miserable, but this feels different."

"It’s not," Elphaba said flatly.

Boq, who had been quiet until now, frowned. "You’re really ignoring her. Like, aggressively ignoring her. Usually, you’re throwing snark back and forth like it’s a competitive sport."

"Thank you, Boq," Elphaba drawled, rolling her eyes. "Your keen observation skills are truly unmatched."

Tibbett leaned in, narrowing his eyes. "Did something happen?"

"No," Elphaba said immediately. Too immediately.

Crope gasped dramatically. "Something definitely happened."

"Nothing happened," Elphaba repeated, stabbing a piece of lettuce.

Boq sighed. "You two are exhausting."

"I, for one, am entertained," Crope said. "But seriously, Elphaba, you look like you want to set her on fire."

Elphaba’s grip on her fork tightened. "I just don’t feel like playing our usual game right now."

Tibbett’s brows lifted slightly. "So something did happen."

Elphaba exhaled sharply, picking up her coffee cup just to have something to hold. "Drop it."

Crope and Tibbett exchanged a glance but, for once, didn’t press.

Yet.

-

Later, after Crope and Tibbett had left for their next class, Boq lingered, watching Elphaba with a frown. "Elphaba. Seriously. What happened?"

Elphaba exhaled sharply, shifting in her seat. "I told you. Nothing."

"Yeah, see, I don’t buy that." Boq leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You’re pissed, but it’s not your usual annoyed-with-Glinda pissed. It’s something else. And she’s acting weird too."

Elphaba rolled her eyes. "She’s always acting."

Boq studied her carefully. "Did she do something?"

Elphaba hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. But Boq caught it.

His brow furrowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was different—less teasing, more serious. "Elphaba. Did she—?"

"It doesn’t matter," she cut in quickly, standing and grabbing her bag. "It’s over."

Boq grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. "That’s not an answer."

Elphaba wrenched her arm free, but not before Boq noticed the slight flinch. The way she moved just a little too carefully. His stomach twisted.

"Elphaba," he said slowly. "Did she—did she hurt you?"

Elphaba stilled. Just for a moment. Then, she forced a smirk. "Glinda? Please. She couldn’t hurt me if she tried."

Boq didn’t smile. "I’m not joking."

Elphaba swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. She hated this. Hated how perceptive Boq could be when it actually mattered. "I said drop it."

Boq’s jaw clenched. "You don’t have to—"

"I do," she interrupted, eyes flashing. "And you’re going to let me."

For a long moment, Boq just stared at her, something unreadable in his expression. Then, finally, he sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. For now."

Elphaba didn’t respond. She just turned on her heel and walked away.

And Boq? He watched her go, his mind racing.

-

The weight of it followed Glinda throughout the day, pressing against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.

Then, she spotted Elphaba.

In the library. Sitting with Crope, Tibbett, and Boq.

Laughing.

The sight made Glinda pause.

Elphaba looked… normal. Unbothered. Like nothing had happened.

And for some reason, that made Glinda’s stomach twist.

She clenched her fists, turned on her heel, and walked away.

Because she couldn’t handle that. Not right now.

And certainly not while her chest still ached with something she couldn’t name.

-

The second night after the incident was somehow worse.

There was no screaming match, no dramatic confrontation. Just silence.

When Elphaba finally returned to the dorm that evening, Glinda had been curled up on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. She hadn’t even realized how long she’d been waiting until she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

She startled slightly but didn’t look up. She wouldn’t give Elphaba the satisfaction.

Elphaba, for her part, didn’t so much as glance in Glinda’s direction. She moved through the space efficiently, depositing her bag by the door before heading toward her bathroom.

Glinda listened as the familiar sounds of Elphaba’s exhaustingly meticulous nighttime routine began—

The rustling of fabric as she changed. The clinking of oil bottles as she applied her ridiculous substitutes for water. The soft exhale as she settled into her own rhythm, blocking out the world.

Glinda hated how familiar it all was. How she could picture it in perfect detail despite refusing to look.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to stand, gathering her things with deliberate slowness. If Elphaba was going to pretend she didn’t exist, then Glinda would do the same.

She breezed past Elphaba’s door on the way to her own room, pausing just long enough to hear the soft scratch of a page turning.

Elphaba was reading.

Like always.

Like nothing had happened.

Glinda clenched her jaw, stepping into her own space and shutting the door a little too hard.

Minutes later, she sat at her vanity, carefully brushing out her curls, doing her own routine with practiced ease.

Moisturizer. Serums. A spritz of perfume, even though she wasn’t going anywhere.

Her fingers hovered over the necklace resting at her collarbone—a delicate gold chain her mother had given her before she left for Shiz.

She wasn’t sure why she felt so restless.

Maybe it was because she had expected something. A fight. A snide remark. A glare. Anything to break this horrible tension.

But Elphaba had given her nothing.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Glinda sighed, setting down her brush and turning off the light. She climbed into bed, forcing herself to settle beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling.

The dorm was too quiet.

Across the hall, Elphaba turned another page.

And Glinda squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could block out the sound.