Fiyero’s lap
Elphaba was halfway down the sidewalk, her steps quick, her expression unreadable.
"Oh no you don’t," Glinda muttered, picking up her pace until she caught up, grabbing Elphaba’s wrist. "Where are you going?"
Elphaba turned, expression carefully blank. "Back to the dorm."
Glinda exhaled sharply. "You’re just leaving?"
"Yes."
Glinda frowned. "Why?"
Elphaba hesitated for half a second too long.
Then she exhaled, shaking her head. "Because whatever game you’re playing tonight, I don’t want to be a part of it."
Glinda blinked, stunned. "Game?"
Elphaba tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "You draped yourself over Fiyero like it was some kind of performance. Was it supposed to bother me?"
Glinda’s cheeks burned. "I—"
"Because if it was," Elphaba continued, voice low, measured, "then congratulations. It did."
Glinda’s breath caught.
But before she could even begin to process that, Elphaba let out a sharp, dry laugh. "Not that it matters, right? Since I was clearly so entertained by some random girl."
Glinda scowled. "Oh, so you were enjoying yourself?"
Elphaba rolled her eyes. You just saw me having a decent time and decided you suddenly had a problem with it."
Glinda crossed her arms. "I didn’t have a problem."
Elphaba stepped closer, just enough that Glinda could see the way her jaw was clenched, the way her hands curled into fists at her sides. "Then why did you look like you wanted to set her on fire?"
Glinda opened her mouth, then closed it. Because she didn’t have an answer.
Not one she was willing to say out loud, anyway.
Elphaba let out a sharp breath, stepping back. "That’s what I thought."
Glinda’s heart pounded in her chest. "You’re one to talk! You stormed out the second I sat on Fiyero’s lap."
Elphaba’s eyes flashed. "Because I knew exactly what you were doing! And because I didn’t want to stand there and pretend it didn’t—"
She stopped.
Glinda took a step forward. "Didn’t what?"
Elphaba’s expression shut down entirely. "Nothing."
Glinda wanted to scream. "You are so infuriating!"
"And you," Elphaba said, voice low, steady, "are playing with fire."
"What does that even mean?!" Glinda threw up her hands, exasperated. "Because I’m flirting with you? Because I don’t know what I want?" She took a step forward, voice rising. "Or because you do know what you want, and you don’t want to admit it?"
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. "Go back inside, Glinda."
"No."
Elphaba exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Shes barely even a friend, Glinda. Someone I’ve had exactly one conversation with before tonight. She’s not even from Shiz—she was visiting a mutual acquaintance. But you didn’t know that, did you? You don’t have to be jealous of her. She wasn’t flirting with me, she was humoring me. She has a girlfriend, for Oz’s sake! We were talking about her dissertation, not falling in love."
Glinda froze, feeling utterly ridiculous.
Elphaba sighed, stepping away. "I’m going home. Enjoy your night."
And just like that, she was gone.
Glinda stood there, heart racing, mind whirling.
-
Glinda was unwell.
Not in the dramatic, oh-dear-I-have-a-headache sort of way, but in the real, stomach-twisting, mind-racing, completely-ruining-her-own-day kind of way. Because Elphaba was avoiding her.
Not just in the normal, irritated, I-can’t-stand-you way Elphaba usually employed, but actively, intentionally avoiding everyone.
She wasn’t at breakfast. She wasn’t loitering around the library like usual. She wasn’t even responding to Boq’s texts, which was practically unheard of. And in their shared class that morning, she sat on the complete opposite side of the room like she had decided to become a ghost overnight.
Which, okay, maybe Glinda had played a small part in making that happen.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was that she was used to Elphaba reacting to her, not withdrawing from everyone altogether. And she absolutely hated the way it made her feel.
She slumped into her seat in History & Ethics, barely listening as Dr. Dillamond droned on about moral philosophers of the past. Normally, this was the one class she and Elphaba both thrived in, but today, Elphaba was silent, head bent over her notes, refusing to look in Glinda’s direction even once.
It was infuriating.
Boq nudged her from the seat beside her. "You look like you’re plotting murder."
Glinda exhaled sharply. "I’m bored, Boq."
"Uh-huh." Boq gave her a look. "Bored? Or fuming about Elphaba ignoring everyone?"
Glinda scoffed. "She is not ignoring everyone."
Boq arched an eyebrow. "She didn’t show up to study last night. She ignored three of my messages. And Crope literally waved in her face at breakfast, and she walked right past him."
Glinda’s stomach twisted. "Shut up."
Boq chuckled. "That’s what I thought."
She spent the rest of the lecture pretending to take notes while very much not thinking about Elphaba.
-
"This is absurd."
Boq hummed, flipping through his sandwich wrapper as they sat in the cafeteria. "What’s absurd? The fact that you’re obsessively staring at Elphaba while she’s reading?"
"I am not staring!" Glinda huffed, stirring her soup aggressively. "I just happen to be aware of my surroundings."
Boq snorted. "Right. And those surroundings just so happen to include Elphaba."
Glinda shot him a glare, then immediately turned her attention to Elphaba, who was sitting across the room, nose buried in a book, completely oblivious to her frustration.
Boq followed her gaze, then leaned in. "You know she does this sometimes, right? Withdraws. Pulls back. It’s not personal."
Glinda narrowed her eyes. "It feels personal."
Boq sighed. "She’s just weird about people caring about her."
Glinda twirled her spoon between her fingers. "Well, that’s dumb."
Boq chuckled. "Agreed. But what are you gonna do?"
Glinda didn’t have an answer.
-
That night, the storm rolled in suddenly.
One moment, the air was humid and still, and the next, thunder cracked across the sky, rattling the dorm windows.
Glinda tensed immediately, fingers clutching the edges of her blanket. She hated storms.
And last time—
Last time, Elphaba had come to her.
But tonight, the walls between them were thicker than ever, and she knew Elphaba wasn’t going to check on her.
Glinda hated how much that stung.
Another loud clap of thunder, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be calm, to be fine.
She wasn’t fine.
And so, for the first time, she was the one who got up.
Slipping out of bed, she wrapped her blanket around herself and padded softly across the common area, hesitating outside Elphaba’s door.
She bit her lip, then—before she could chicken out—knocked, lightly.
Silence.
Then, after a long pause, the door creaked open.
Elphaba stood there, brow furrowed, clearly confused. "What?"
Glinda exhaled shakily, gripping the blanket tighter. "Can I—can I stay here? Just for a little while?"
Elphaba stared at her. Then, slowly, she stepped aside.
Glinda slipped inside, standing awkwardly as Elphaba ran a hand through her hair. "You… you really hate storms, huh?"
Glinda nodded, not trusting her voice.
Elphaba sighed, then—to Glinda’s absolute surprise—gestured toward her bed. "Alright. Come on."
Glinda did not hesitate.
She climbed into bed, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as Elphaba sat beside her, cross-legged, book in one hand, watching Glinda cautiously.
Thunder rumbled again, and Glinda flinched involuntarily.
Without thinking, Elphaba reached out, her fingers brushing against Glinda’s wrist.
It was barely anything. Just a touch. Just contact.
But it was enough to slow Glinda’s racing heart.
Then, without a word, Elphaba’s fingers moved, drifting up in a gentle, hesitant motion, threading lightly through Glinda’s curls.
Glinda froze, warmth spreading through her chest. It was soothing, deliberate, almost absentminded, as if Elphaba didn’t even realize she was doing it.
Another crack of thunder, and Glinda pressed just a little closer, letting herself sink into it.
They sat like that for a long time, quiet, the storm raging outside while something else settled between them.
And for the first time all day, Glinda didn’t feel ignored.