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Days like these come farther and farther apart, yet he doesn’t know whether to celebrate it or mourn it. He takes a sip of his coffee. Do they? He’s been more and more withdrawn as winter passes by, always thinking, mind miles -no, dimensions- away.
It used to be easier before they moved. Their new apartment is on the first floor, and losing oneself while looking through the window was much more entertaining when you could watch people’s faces. But his straw hat and an office job don’t really go with each other and, after not being able to afford their other place when he lost his last job, they’d had to settle with this one, where they could work from home.
He wouldn’t have minded, either, if they didn’t live in the north. Apparently, places with colder climates tended to favor one sort of people. A group he tended to avoid, as stupid as it sounded. And, of course, when peeking through the window this morning, he had been unable to take his eyes off her.
His heart sinks in his chest. Of course, he knows it to be impossible, but there’s not a thing on the woman’s face that does not remind him of… He swallows, gripping his mug harder. Her gold hair falls past her shoulders, coiling near the ends and, even though she’s not quite facing the window, he focuses on her profile, each detail knocking the air out of him. Her straight nose, crinkling icy eyes as she smiles wide enough to brighten the place... oh, how he hates blondes.
She’s been talking to another woman who, eventually, points at -of course- the creep that’s been staring at them through the window. Fiyero can just purse his lips, muttering an apology he knows the women won’t hear behind the glass. But, as she turns around, he at least has the sure knowledge that the blonde woman doesn’t look that much like her, anyway. Unclear on whether this appeases him or not, he walks away from the window, slowly settling on the sofa.
He doesn’t realize Elphaba is in the living room until she sits beside him, chuckling. “Is that your new hobby?” She intertwines her fingers with his, grabbing the mug he’s been clutching and putting it on the coffee table. “It happens to me, too,” she adds, her tone more solemn.
Fiyero looks at her. They talk about everything; there’s no secrets between them. Just this one. He never thought it would be proper to admit he thinks of the other woman daily. However, he sighs, looking for the right words. “I see her everywhere. In the grocery store, or in the profile of someone on TV, or-”
“I love her, too.” Elphaba cups his face with her hands.
He smiles. Love is a broad word, and they’ve never discussed which way they loved her, but Glinda never was a difficult person to love, so he believes her. And it hurts him, to realize he might love her more now than he did when he should have. Yet he will never be able to say it out loud.
“I think she forgave me, in the end,” he muses. “She understood us.” He looks at Elphaba’s hand on his, and his mind returns to the cornfield in which he lived his last moments as a flesh-and-blood man. Glinda had taken his hands in hers and had looked into his eyes, finally realizing how his love for her would never match his love for Elphaba. The expression she carried will never leave his mind.
“Of course.” Elphaba rubs his cheek with her thumb. “Though I consider it an insult to my best friend to be compared with that woman out there.”
Fiyero laughs, taking her other hand on his. “Hush. Her nose was very similar.” He closes his eyes, leaning into Elphaba. “It’s funny, though. I do forget the specificity of her features. I look for her face every day, yet I cannot say I remember it.”
He tries to focus. It’s not the face of a stranger. Even as a farce, and many years ago, he had stroked her cheeks and counted the faint freckles around her nose too many times. He had noticed her right eye had a grey speck on it the left hadn’t, and how her smile wrinkled on one side, but was perfect on the other. Though, he might have dreamed all that, for he cannot truly recall. He just knows he knows.
“I forget, too,” Elphaba admits. “But never her.”
“No. Truly unforgettable.” He chuckles, mostly to himself. “For good or bad.”
However, Elphaba also laughs. He frowns, briefly, but he refrains from asking when he notices the shimmer in her eyes. “For good, I’d say.”
It had been a long day. Being public figures had its perks -living in the most luxurious building in Emerald City-, and its obvious downsides.
As captain of the Gale Guard, Fiyero spent most of the hours of his day around the city, sometimes even around a broader radius, always on the hunt of the Wicked Witch of the West.
That was his role, officially. Truth is, he was doing something much more tiring while pretending to be the infallible captain, for he and Glinda commandeered the silent search with no will to bring her down, but to find their friend and provide some solace.
While Glinda was the public face, deceiving the citizens and the Wizard himself, he was the brains. He had the connections and intel, though they had proved to be of very little use. And he was tired. So, so tired.
He had joined Glinda in bed silently, trying not to disturb her, though her breathing told him she was awake. With their duties, they barely spent time together, and the little conversations they had were mostly about politics, events they had to attend, or her.
He put a hand to his chest, begging the incessant squeezing to stop. Every time he thought of Elphaba, his body reacted viscerally. Years after noticing it for the first time, he knew himself too old and too invested for it to be a simple school crush. He was, instead, sharing a bed with another woman, while trying to find the one his passions truly lied with and had always had.
He let his breath slowly, almost painfully, and turned around to face Glinda. Her eyes were already on him, her ever-present anxious frown crowning them. She didn’t use to look so worried all the time, and he missed her carefree giggles more every day.
Slowly, he raised a hand to smooth the skin between her brows. The light from the city was enough to discern every little mark on her face, even the bitten skin on her lips. He wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer, that guilt. Even though he had not been physically with another, he knew his feelings for Elphaba were already a betrayal. How could he betray her?
“You think too much,” she whispered. Her frown didn’t go away, but she sat up, leaning her head on the bed frame. “Speak, instead.” She brought her lip to lie between her teeth, and Fiyero immediately reached to pull it free. She sighed, leaning closer. “Won’t you talk to me?”
“I’m tired,” he lied. “I’m not making any progress and I’m starting to run out of people to involve in this.” He accepted the closeness, letting his eyes fall shut, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek. “At some point, someone will betray us.”
She put a hand over his lips, shushing him quietly. “I think you’re doing more than good.” Her smile was cheeky, way too cheery for the conversation, though it pulled the corners of his own mouth upwards. “The more we work, the closer we’ll be to her.”
He knew Elphaba was as much of a touchy subject with her as it was for him, but her silence and the scarce times Glinda allowed herself to name her always hit like a blow. He only stayed with her for two reasons: the position of power that meant working from the inside, and his desire of seeing nothing else than a smile on her face. And he failed at both, daily.
She leaned completely on him, resting her chest on his own. “If we can’t do this, there’s no one else who can,” she asserted. Her nose touched his, and he found his eyes falling closed for a second, lulled by her warm breaths.
“I know,” Fiyero admitted, keeping himself awake. His hand traced circles around her back, his mind far away, stuck with Elphaba, wherever she was. He wondered, just enough to disgust himself, how similar it would be to be like this with her instead. When his own mind tried to paint Glinda’s face green, he cleared his throat. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“You know when,” she whispered. “That day with the Wizard.” She chuckled, though it frightened him how watery it sounded. “I think I’m forgetting her face. I hate it.”
Fiyero scoffed, falsely indignant, moving his hands to her shoulders and gripping her stronger. “How can you forget her? You love her.” He smiled, then, reassuring.
“I do.” Glinda sat up, letting her head hang. Her warm hands drew shapes on his chest. “I miss her so much my heart hurts, sometimes.” Her voice trailed as she pursed her lips, looking at the open window.
He wanted to agree. No, he agreed, yet saying it out loud would be admitting how much he loved Elphaba. Glinda didn’t need that kind of heartbreak. He couldn’t afford hurting her like that, but his own skin boiled every time he closed his eyes and pretended it was the other woman who was there, speaking softly to him, loving him like Glinda did. And he knew it stung too much to be just desire.
He sighed, sitting up, too, so that she was on his lap. “Well, you said it yourself. If we can’t find her, who can?” He kissed her nose. “Now, don’t you have to wake early tomorrow?”
“Ugh, yes,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Slowly, she returned to her side of the bed, theatrically letting herself flop. When she turned around, fluffing the sheets around her, she smiled. “I love you.”
Fiyero closed his eyes. He should’ve said it back.
Everything was dancing around him. Spinning fast, incomprehensibly, way out of control. He knew she was saying something. No, shouting. Then, he could feel his own lips move in response, the angry growl leaving a rough feeling in his throat.
His breath came to him in short bursts, not nearly enough to help him understand the situation. His blurry vision betrayed broken china on the floor, their bed unmade. And Glinda, oh, Glinda. Her face was puffed, reddened eyes contrasting with their deep blue. Her hands moved around frantically, and the vein he rarely saw pop was present in her forehead.
She took a step towards him, and the first thing he heard clearly was her deep inhale. “Are you even listening?!” She laughed, sarcasm dripping through every word and tear. “Oh, Oz! Do you even care?! You don’t care, do you?!”
Fiyero swallowed, still not so present in the moment. He could feel her cold hands shaking his shoulders, and he bubbled with anger. How could she say he didn’t care? All that he’d ever done was care. For her, for the farce they both had built, for every single, little thing… “Shut up! Stop talking, Glinda!” He grabbed her by the arms, and her hot anger died down immediately.
Though, he wished it wouldn’t have. Now that his mind had returned to the argument, he couldn’t ignore she had trashed the place in a fury. Somehow, he had managed to break her, and his heart was beating too fast to remember what he had said that had upset her so.
“You never listen to me!”, she argued. Her tone had dropped, yet her voice was raspy from screaming, and her eyes were barely open. Taking a pained breath, she put the heels of her hands over them, walking away, not even concealing her sobs. “Listen, please.”
Fiyero gritted his teeth. Every nerve in his body screamed to go to her and embrace her. His eyes stung, and he tried to ignore the pain behind his ears, which were drumming his brain with an incessant ringing. “I am,” he said, finally.
“It wasn’t like that.” Her breath caught, and she had to put her hand against her stomach to let the air out. Even then, she looked unsteady. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Her lower lip was red with blood from biting and picking at it constantly. He’d never thought he’d see Glinda looking pitiful. “How could you even think I meant it like that? I never-”
“That’s the point!” His voice was too high, accusatory, though he didn’t try to regulate his tone, not even when she looked at him, face contorted with grief and rage. “You ‘never’ anything!”
“No-”
“No, listen! I’ve listened to you!” He remained planted where he was and, even though he wanted to go to her, truly, and hold her until she calmed down, his temper boiled as high as hers, and he needed to say his part, before it became another rooted reason for resentment against kind, beautiful Glinda. “I told you what we needed to do! I told you we needed to move! And what did you do?! Schedule a… fucking speech! Are you crazy? Are you
stupid?!”
He profoundly regretted the word as soon as it left his mouth. His eyes stung no longer, for his own tears flowed freely.
Glinda stayed silent, face in her hands, body completely trembling. “That is not my part of the job,” she cried. Her voice was almost too quiet for him to hear. “You move. I distract.” She breathes deeply, difficultly. “That was what I did!”
“And you forgot to run your intel to me?” He sniffled, fighting between letting it go and admonishing her. They could’ve found her… Elphaba. And she would’ve been here with them. With him. But Glinda… “I just think you’re too comfortable living like this. Why change things, when this is all you ever-?”
“Don’t you dare…!”
“Yes, I dare! Because if you truly had wanted to, Elphaba-!”
“This isn’t about Elphie!,” she screams, falling to her knees, slowly, trying to support herself with the bed. “Stop saying those things to me, please.”
“When is it not about her? All of this… All of us is about her!” How can she say that? When has it ever been another thing than Elphaba, for any of them? He couldn’t care less about another thing that wasn’t her. However… No. That was wrong. He cared about Glinda.
Fiyero walked briskly towards her, sinking to her side, to his own knees. Her sobs were silent, though they made her whole body convulse. “We promised we’d help her. She… Glinda…” He softly cupped her face, wiping some tears, though it could not matter any less, for many more wet his fingers. “I’m sorry.”
She grabbed his hand, clutching it against her. “You’re right.” Her uncoordinated breaths made her speak slowly, every word wobbly. “But… the way you spoke to me…”
“I know, I-”
“I don’t think you love me anymore,” she confessed in nothing more than a whine. She gripped his hand tighter, hugging it against her chest. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” His heart stopped beating against his chest for a second, limbs going numb, and the ringing in his ears became explosions. “What made you believe that?” His own voice wavered as he ran his other hand up and down her arm. She didn’t speak. “I love you.” It wasn’t a lie, though he wished he could tell her the whole truth without breaking her further. “I love you, and I am so sorry.”
Her crying finally became louder, and she let herself collapse. Her shrieks could’ve been mistaken by ones of physical pain, and his own chest bubbled with guilt. How did it ever get to this? He wrapped his arms around the small figure of Glinda, finally breathing when her hands clutched his back, and held her until her voice gave out and she had no more tears to shed.
“I’m sorry.”
He sighs. It has never bothered him for so long, yet he cannot stop remembering all the things he should’ve done. He tries to remind himself that she is not dead. Though far from them and with no way of reaching her, Glinda is alive. But the guilt he feels can only be compared to the weight of knowing he’ll never get to speak to her again.
He turns around, hugging Elphaba from behind. He thinks it funny, how much he thought of her while with Glinda, and how much he thinks of the other woman with her. He would never regret his decisions, none of them, but a voice in his head laughs at him and begs him to realize the irony of it all. He kisses Elphaba’s shoulder blade, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Are you alright?”
Of course, she’s awake. Fiyero laughs internally as he waits for her to turn. She smiles softly, squinting. She cannot see much without her glasses, so she could miss the worry lines in his face, but she’d never miss how much his silences give away. They’ve always said more than any of his words. She raises an eyebrow.
“You know what it is.” He sighs, ashamed. “Sorry. It’s…”
Elphaba waits, in silence, just in case he wants to finish the sentence. Once it becomes clear his mind will not elaborate, she sits up. “Why are you sorry?”
“I truly think it’s a disservice to you.” He bites his lower lip, letting his arm cover his eyes. “To think so much about her, I mean.”
“I said my goodbyes,” she answers. For a moment, he doesn’t know where she’s heading, so he listens intently, frown deepening. “All’s settled between her and me. But you never got to say one last thing, did you?”
“I apologized,” he admits, swallowing hard.
“For what? Aiming at her with your shotgun? For running away with me? For disregarding her during your relationship?” Even though her words might seem accusatory, her smile and her hand looking for his comfort him. “Did you ever specify that to yourself?”
He stares at her, long, in adoration. He cannot understand how she gets to the deep corners of his mind. “No. And I had so much more to say.”
Elphaba nods, pulling from his hand so he’s sitting on the bed beside her. “Don’t make the same mistake you made once. You can say it to me, if not her.” She cups his face, waiting.
Even though his mouth starts answering her prompt, his brain blocks it. Looking down, he laughs, not amused in the slightest. He doesn’t regret his actions regarding Elphaba, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for Glinda. “I loved her so much”, he whispers.
“Loved? Past?” Elphaba kisses the corner of his mouth, pulling away shortly after so their eyes meet once more.
“You’ll get everything out of me, hm?” He lets out a breathy sigh, looking away, not surprised in the slightest when his eyes start stinging. “I love her. Now.” Licking his lips, he gets closer to Elphaba. “But I love you. I love you now, too, and more.”
She shakes her head, though the corners of her mouth quirk up. “I know that last part. But you should start letting yourself say the first one.” Her brows sink down. “As I do. It’s painful, but you’ll get some closure for yourself.”
Fiyero laughs, trying to hide the sole tear that runs down his face, though it ends up falling on Elphaba’s finger. “I love you.” Because he wouldn’t make that mistake once more. He would say it all the times she needed to hear it. And all the times he needed, too.