Chapter Text
Even on a broomstick, traveling from Ev to Oz was long, tedious, and dark. Dark because Elphaba only dared to do it at night, when the sun was completely hidden, when most of the Emerald City was asleep, and it was easier to blend in with the clouds. Not that Elphaba truly needed it, since she’d managed to cast a spell that made her black cloak turn invisible when necessary, so she wasn’t at much risk. Still, Elphaba would be lying if she said she didn’t feel watched every time she looked down from that height at Glinda’s balcony.
It had been five years since she and Fiyero had faked their deaths and fled Oz. The first days and months weren’t easy for either of them—it was difficult to settle somewhere so unfamiliar, to start from scratch and try to build a new life. After the first year, Fiyero had managed to become comfortable with what they had: a safe place, a garden, and freedom.
For Fiyero, time had been a cure, a release from all the weight he had carried on his shoulders. But for Elphaba… for Elphaba, it had been the exact opposite.
The weight of losing her sister consumed her every day. The guilt of looking at Fiyero and seeing nothing but a body made of straw—nothing like the prince Glinda had once told her she would marry. The feeling that her entire cause had been a failure, because she had never truly managed to help the Animals truly escape. But what hurt the most, what kept her awake at night, was the sound of Glinda sobbing over her death.
How had she been able to lie to Glinda about something like that? How had she been able to look into those big brown eyes and tell her everything would be alright, only to leave her behind forever?
Everyone in Oz had been right—she was a wicked witch. Because even if her intentions had always been good, even if she had been willing to sacrifice herself for a fair Oz, in the end all she had done was hurt everyone who had ever loved and trusted her.
Glinda, Nessarose, Fiyero, even Boq—she had ruined all their lives.
She deserved exile, so she would never escape it. She would never go near Glinda again, because she didn’t deserve so much as a glance from her. But also because she didn’t think she could stand in front of that wide-eyed blonde girl and tell her she had never been dead—that all her tears had been for nothing, and that all this time she had been hiding with her former fiancé, the man she loved—the one she had always wanted to marry.
No, Elphaba had sworn she would never go near Glinda again. But time passed, and every day felt slower than the last. She truly tried to accept that this was her life—she used her magic to help the Animals who had also fled to Ev, took care of her plants, perfected spells, and kept Fiyero company. And even though she had turned him into a scarecrow, he never stopped thanking her for saving his life.
Elphaba didn’t understand how that could be called a life, but she was grateful to him for trying to take that guilt away from her, even if he failed.
Her relationship with Fiyero—well, neither of them had known what kind of relationship they would have when they first fled. Elphaba knew there was a huge difference between what each of them wanted, but she only truly came to terms with it days after the melting.
Why had she chosen to run away with him? Out of fear of dying? Because he was her only option? Because it was the easiest choice? Because she loved him? Maybe a little of everything—and she would have to live with that.
They lived together, shared a home. Fiyero was the only person she truly had—but what did that mean? What were they to each other? The weight of that last question made Elphaba’s head ache. Fiyero was no longer a man, so experiencing intimacy the way they once had was no longer an option—they both knew it. And she thought she was more at peace with that fact than Fiyero himself. He never showed any frustration about it, but Elphaba’s indifference in other ways was what started to bother him over time.
Glinda was something they both avoided. Elphaba, because every time she tried to say her name, it would get stuck in her throat. And Fiyero, because he knew that bringing her up could completely destabilize her. But even without saying her name, Fiyero knew that the garden of pink flowers Elphaba cared for so carefully only existed because she missed her best friend so much.
In their third year away from Oz, as they sat beneath a tree, watching the sun go down, Elphaba could no longer bear the question that had been circling in her mind for so long, suffocating her.
“Fiyero… do you think she’s happy?”
Brown eyes—so much like Glinda’s—studied her carefully before answering.
“I don’t know. But I truly hope she is.”
A strong, warm wind swept over them, and Elphaba noticed Fiyero lose his balance slightly. That was the problem with being made of straw. Guilt struck her again—but it hit even deeper when she remembered what she had been thinking about when she gave those eyes to the former Winkie prince.
“Do you remember what day it is?”
“Of course I do.” They both sighed, understanding each other without needing more.
“I’m sure she threw a huge birthday party and invited the entire Emerald City.”
“And she’ll be wearing a beautiful pink dress.”
Three years. And this was the first time they had spoken about Glinda. Doing so felt like tearing open a wound that was still bleeding. Elphaba felt her eyes sting as she tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back her tears.
Her green eyes drifted toward the horizon, hoping the scarecrow’s gaze would settle on something other than her face—but it didn’t. So she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“Why did you run away with me, Elphaba?”
The worst question, at the worst moment. Elphaba didn’t have the strength to think of a proper answer—not now.
“Can we talk about this another day? Not now…”
“Weren’t three years enough?”
“Fiyero, I—”
“I understand, Elphaba. I really do. Maybe I was your only way out—or the easiest one. You were being hunted, you didn’t want to die, I can’t blame you for that. I was the one who offered. But I really thought there was something more between us. And I’m not stupid—I know we could never be a normal couple. But I thought we could find a way. I’ve tried to find one, at least. But I understood a long time ago what was happening… and I’m tired.”
“Tired of what?”
“Of trying to fill the space she left.”
Elphaba didn’t know it was possible to keep living when your heart had stopped. It must have been her magic that kept her alive.
“That’s not true.”
Fiyero smiled, but there was only sadness in it.
“Don’t. Please. Don’t lie to my face, Fae, please. You and I both know the truth—I’ve never been, and I’ll never be enough. And honestly, I hate being nothing more than a consolation prize.”
Her silence gave him his answer. With some difficulty, Fiyero stood up from the ground.
“I asked you not to lie, so… thank you for that. It still hurts, though. Your silence is so loud I can hear exactly what you’re thinking.”
“I’m sorry, Fiyero. I really am. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Elphaba. At some point, we had to talk about this—about her. It’s fine. These are the choices we made, and we’ll have to live with them forever.”
Days passed, and Glinda became the elephant in the room—never mentioned, but never absent from their minds.
For both of them, for completely different reasons.
Two weeks later, Elphaba was tidying up the house when Fiyero came back with a basket of eggs; she heard him arrive, but didn’t turn to look at him until she heard his laughter echoing through the house.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, confused.
“Do you really not see it?” The question wasn’t laced with anger—not at all. Fiyero seemed amused by the situation.
“See what?” Elphaba replied, frowning. She didn’t like being made fun of.
“Where did you get the scent for that fragrance you just sprayed in the living room?”
“It’s the one I always use.”
“I know, but where did you get it from?”
Elphaba tried to remember when she had cast the spell to find the perfect scent. She hadn’t thought of anything in particular—she had simply conjured a fragrance that matched her favorite smell, and that was how she got it. Of course, Elphaba hadn’t stopped to think about where she had smelled it before.
“Or better yet—why are the curtains pink? Just like your favorite dishes, the rug, or almost all the flowers in the garden?”
“I…”
“I know, Fae, you hadn’t noticed.”
“Have I always done this?”
“Make Glinda present in every corner of the house? Well, the dishes have always been pink, but her perfume in the air—only for about a year and a half now.”
“I’m sorry. I’m stupid, and I’ve been hurting you this whole time.”
She felt awful—she truly hadn’t realized any of it. She was the stupidest person in the world.
“Elphaba, don’t worry. At this point, I actually find it kind of funny that you unconsciously do things that are connected to her. I even appreciate it, believe it or not—I miss her too.”
Of course she did. It was impossible not to miss her.
The truth was, once she became aware of her constant need to feel Glinda close, Elphaba didn’t stop—if anything, it only made Glinda even more present in her daily thoughts. She had spent three years forcing herself to understand and accept that she had left her behind, that she didn’t even deserve to know how she was, but it was becoming harder and harder.
In their fourth year in Ev, news reached her: the royal family of Ev had been kidnapped by a man called King Nomo, and now that same man was planning to attack the Emerald City and seize the Royal Palace. She and Fiyero lived far from the city, so the news had come through the Animals days—maybe even weeks—later.
Elphaba’s hands began to sweat, a chill running down her spine. She thought of Nessarose beneath that house, thought of Fiyero on the verge of death, thought of Glinda in danger—and she couldn’t help it. Fiyero wasn’t home, so she wrote him a note and left it on the table; that would have to be enough. It had been years since she last used her broomstick, and the cloak Glinda herself had given her—the one that made her invisible—was folded away in a drawer, covered in dust. She shook it out as best she could and took off, flying straight for Oz.
That was the first time since the melting that Elphaba flew over Oz—over that land that had despised her so much, yet would always be her home. A suffocating feeling tried to take hold of her, but the fear that something terrible might happen to Glinda was stronger. The broom rose above the clouds, faster than ever before, and by the time she finally reached the Emerald City, night had already fallen.
The first thing she did was fly low over the city, searching for signs of chaos or conflict in the streets—anything that could tell her how serious the situation was—but strangely, she found nothing but calm. She decided to descend and walk carefully among the few people still out, most of them leaving bars after a night of drinking, since it was past midnight—the only places still open. Elphaba stayed crouched in a corner, trying to catch anything useful. She waited and waited, until a pair of slightly drunk men stepped out, speaking in low murmurs.
“The bastard was planning to attack the city through the tunnels—and he would’ve managed it if it weren’t for Glinda the Good.”
“Can you imagine if he had made it all the way to the Royal Palace?”
“He never stood a real chance. Glinda is very powerful.”
So there was no real threat. Elphaba took a deep breath, letting go of all the fear she had carried with her throughout the journey.
Glinda being powerful… the man’s words echoed in her head over and over again. She knew Glinda had a talent for magic, knew that at some point she would grow into her full potential—that was why she had left the Grimmerie within her reach. But she would be lying if she said she had ever thought Glinda alone could stop the attack of a king who had already kidnapped an entire royal family. Elphaba had done it again—she had underestimated her.
A small smile slipped out before she could stop it. More than anyone, she knew how intelligent her best friend could be. And so, once the fear inside her began to fade, Elphaba allowed herself to look around. The Emerald City—the city where she had become the Wicked Witch, the city she had first arrived in full of hope, and the one she had left with the greatest disappointment of her life. It was almost ridiculous—like a cruel joke—that everything in that place was green, just like her skin. It was ridiculous that the city hated her so much, and yet the person she loved most lived within it.
She walked through the empty streets until she reached where she wanted to be. The Royal Palace stood before her, just as imposing as the first time—but back then she had an invitation from the Wizard, and now she would be arrested the moment she tried to enter.
But Elphaba didn’t want to go inside… did she?
Glinda was in there—Elphaba knew it—and just that certainty was enough to make her heart race so fast it pounded in her ears. Suddenly, she felt a little dizzy and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She couldn’t do it—she couldn’t, and she had no right to. From what little she had heard, Glinda was fine—she was powerful, she had the support of the Ozian people. She had probably moved on, probably didn’t even remember her anymore. If anything, Elphaba was just a memory now. She only hoped that, despite everything, it was a good one.
She turned, giving her back to the Palace. She took a couple of steps before climbing onto her broom to return to Ev—but once she was in the air, her body wouldn’t move. She counted to ten, trying to regain some clarity before doing something reckless.
It didn’t work.
She began to circle above the Palace, searching for Glinda’s balcony—or any sign of her. It was very late, so she assumed she wouldn’t see her, but she couldn’t stop trying. She would never come back—this was her only chance to see her face again, even from afar. And by Oz, she swore that if she got even a glimpse of her, she would memorize her eyes, her golden curls, and her dimple forever.
By the third time she circled the Palace, Elphaba had lost hope of seeing her. It had been foolish of her to think she would, and a couple of tears slipped out before she could stop them. Her vision was blurred, which was why she didn’t notice right away when the lights on the balcony in front of her turned on—she only did when she heard the windows being thrown open. Elphaba was left breathless when Glinda rushed out onto the balcony and looked up at the sky in desperation. Four years had passed—four long years since the last time she had seen her—and Elphaba felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest; there was no way she could stop it.
Glinda was wrapped in a pink robe, with no makeup on, so Elphaba assumed she had been sleeping. Her curls were loose, falling over her shoulders. She was beautiful, just like always—more than ever.
Elphaba moved closer on her broom, carefully—not too much, she couldn’t risk Glinda hearing her uneven breathing—but she needed to be as close to her as possible. And then she felt Glinda’s gaze fixed on her. That wasn’t possible—Glinda couldn’t see her. For a moment, Elphaba doubted the spell; a chill ran through her at the thought that she might be visible to Glinda. The silence was absolute, and neither of them seemed to breathe. And yet, just as Elphaba was about to do something reckless, she watched Glinda look past her, up at the sky, before letting out a deep sigh and closing her eyes. Elphaba covered her mouth with her hand—she had been seconds away from speaking, she knew it. Then Glinda turned and went back inside, closing the balcony doors behind her.
Elphaba felt her muscles tense, her hands gripping the broom tightly; she had the sensation that she was about to fall. Once again, her body wouldn’t respond—she needed to regain control, or she would fly straight through that balcony just to wrap her arms around Glinda, only to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness for the rest of her days. She felt dizzy, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to fly back to Ev like that, so she wisely—and with great effort—pulled away from the balcony and landed on solid ground.
She ran to a corner where no one was around and prayed no one nearby would hear her, because she desperately needed to tear the cloak from around her neck and sob. She needed to release everything she had kept inside for four years—everything she hadn’t been able to let out with Fiyero. She needed a moment alone to allow herself to feel, to grieve the love she had lost the day she had foolishly chosen to leave Glinda behind, carrying the full weight of what had once been her dream, her purpose. She had never felt so desperately desolate, so empty, so miserable.
Glinda had looked at her for less than fifteen seconds, and she hadn’t even known Elphaba was there—and yet, to Elphaba, it felt as though her chest had been torn open and everything inside her had been pulled out, everything she had unconsciously been denying for so long. She felt completely exposed.
How could she have been so stupid, to look into those brown eyes and ignore that she was completely and hopelessly in love with them?
With a hand pressed to her chest and her eyes closed, after a few minutes Elphaba’s breathing began to steady. She stopped trembling, and the ground felt solid beneath her feet again. She needed to get out of there—she had to put distance between them again, let the desert keep them apart.
When she arrived in Ev at dawn, Fiyero was outside the house—hysterical, worried, angry—and Elphaba was sure he would have been crying if his body had allowed it.
“What do you think you were doing? Do you realize the danger you just put yourself in?”
“I’m back. I’m fine.”
But Elphaba’s voice and expression said otherwise. She was exhausted—she just needed to sleep.
“Fine? That’s not—”
“Fiyero, I’m exhausted.”
“A note, Elphaba. A damn note was all you left me. I didn’t even know if you were coming back.”
“Of course I was coming back. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
She regretted it the moment she realized what her words implied. Being in that house with Fiyero wasn’t a choice—it hadn’t been for a long time. It was simply her only option. The decision she had made, the one she had been forced to live with.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
“Why?”
“For being so selfish, not telling you that you can leave—that you can go back to her.”
“We both know that’s not really an option.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean, Fiyero? I’m dead. To Oz—to Glinda—I’m dead.”
“And yet you flew all the way to the Emerald City just for the possibility that she might be in danger.”
Elphaba sighed and looked toward the garden, where her pink flowers were. Fiyero was right—she had been reckless.
“Tell me something… is she okay?”
Elphaba nodded without saying a word.
“Did you see her?”
She nodded again, feeling something inside her break.
“Did she see you?”
She tried to answer, but her voice broke, and once again the tears took over. And it only got worse when Fiyero pulled her into an embrace.
Elphaba promised herself she would never return to Oz. Glinda didn’t need her at all, so there was no point.
Days passed, then weeks, then months, and Elphaba’s dreams shifted between nightmares of hearing Glinda crying over her melting and gentler nights where she relived their last encounter. But the mornings were all the same—somber, empty, as if nothing made sense.
The routine of tending the garden, helping the Animals, and practicing spells was no longer enough, so she decided to learn how to bake cakes. “It can’t be that hard,” she thought as she mixed the ingredients, following the recipe to the letter as if she were learning a new spell.
It turned out to be more difficult than a spell from the Grimmerie, and her kitchen nearly caught fire several times in a single week.
“Are you aware that if I come into contact with fire, I’ll die?” Fiyero reminded her one day as Elphaba opened the windows, waiting for the smoke drifting out of the oven to clear.
“I just want to do something productive!”
She changed the curtains from pink to yellow, but somehow she kept thinking about Glinda’s curls, so she changed them again to violet, then green, then light blue. None of them lasted more than a week before she went back to pink.
Some days were harder than others. Sometimes Elphaba didn’t feel like getting out of bed, or even eating, and her garden nearly died from neglect. On those days, Fiyero tried everything to cheer her up, but he never quite found a way.
“Would you like to move?” Fiyero suggested one day.
“To where?”
“I don’t know, Fae. Somewhere new.”
She understood Fiyero’s intention, but deep down she knew they both knew her state wouldn’t change just because of the promise of new experiences.
The scarecrow let out something like a resigned sigh when Elphaba gave no answer.
“Why don’t you go see her?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Fae. You have the cloak, and it wouldn’t be the first time. You know how to be careful—I know you do.”
“What would be the point of seeing her if I can’t even go near her?”
Once again, those eyes—so similar to Glinda’s—looked at her with tenderness, and Elphaba’s breath caught for a moment.
“From experience, I know you don’t have to touch the person you love to feel relief. Just seeing them, even from afar, is enough.”
A sharp pang of guilt—and something like pity—hit her. Everything would be so much easier if her heart weren’t so stubborn.
“Though I don’t think getting closer would be a bad thing either… if that’s what you want.”
“Are you saying you want me to show myself to Glinda? She’ll hate me, Fiyero—and I can’t blame her for that.”
“That’s impossible, Fae. Glinda could never hate you.”
He stood up and walked out of the house, leaving her alone with her thoughts—and her pink curtains.
When Elphaba decided to leave Oz four years and ten months ago, she truly believed she was capable of leaving everything behind, of starting over. She truly thought it was the best thing that could happen to Oz. She made the decision impulsively, like almost every decision she had made in her life. Because yes, Elphaba was incredibly intelligent—she knew it, and it was the only thing she had always been proud of—but she also had to accept that sometimes her impulsiveness outweighed any clever decision she could make. Decisions that, with time, she almost always ended up regretting.
That was why, that night, when she couldn’t take it anymore, as she pulled on her boots and searched for her cloak, she asked Lurline, the unnamed god her sister had worshipped so devoutly—and Glinda, above all, Glinda—that this would truly be a good idea.
There was no need to leave a note on the table this time—Fiyero would know immediately where she had flown off to.
This time, she didn’t circle the Palace, nor did she dare to land. This time, Elphaba stopped on her broom just a few meters from Glinda’s balcony. She remained suspended in the air for almost an hour. The lights in the room were off, and she didn’t know if the blonde was asleep or simply not there. With so little light, it was impossible to see inside, and Elphaba wasn’t reckless enough to try to enter.
She hadn’t thought of any plan beyond seeing her from afar, but Elphaba had forgotten how busy Glinda used to be when she started working for the Wizard—so maybe this time she wouldn’t be so lucky.
She was.
Elphaba forced herself to take a deep breath when the lights in the room turned on. The balcony was covered by a thin white curtain, so she couldn’t see clearly—but it was sheer enough to make out Glinda’s silhouette behind it.
Her body relaxed for a few seconds. Something about seeing Glinda sitting on what seemed to be a pink sofa, taking off her high heels, reminded her of their time at Shiz, when they shared a room. Now barefoot, the blonde stood in front of a mirror and let her hair down, and even from that distance, Elphaba could see the way her expression softened. Glinda looked beautiful—but also very serious, perhaps tired.
Elphaba watched her move from one side of the large room to the other, and when she saw her again after losing sight of her for a few minutes, she was already wearing her nightgown. Still, Glinda seemed to have more in mind before going to bed, because when she opened the windows and stepped out onto the balcony, she had a glass in her hand—something that looked like some kind of alcohol.
The Wicked Witch froze, both from the closeness and from how strange it felt to see Glinda drinking that kind of thing. Then she remembered that almost five years had passed, that the Glinda she had known might no longer exist, and that she had no right to assume anything about her life anymore—because she was no longer part of it.
Elphaba felt the sadness run through her veins, her bones—her entire body. Suddenly, she found herself mourning everything she had surely missed in Glinda’s life, everything she didn’t know about her. But it was too late for that now, and she would have to accept it.
Glinda rested her hands on the green balcony railing, and every few seconds she took a sip from her glass, frowning as the alcohol went down her throat. Elphaba watched every movement carefully, but nothing prepared her to hear her voice again.
“You’re losing your mind, Glinda Upland.”
The blonde said it into the air, followed by a small laugh that sounded more ironic than amused.
The echo of her voice lingered in Elphaba’s mind, even after she watched Glinda go back inside and close the balcony doors behind her.
Something inside Elphaba stirred when she heard Glinda’s voice—something she hadn’t realized had gone quiet. It was as if Glinda had suddenly turned on a light, and Elphaba spent the entire journey back with an intense flutter in her stomach.
However, with each visit Elphaba made to Glinda, the flutter began to fade, turning into a knot of worry.
She went two or three times a week—she couldn’t go any less, because staying in bed and sleeping was no longer an option, but she couldn’t go more often either, because she knew what she was doing was still extremely dangerous.
And each week, Elphaba noticed that, in the solitude of her room, Glinda had a glass in her hand. Sometimes she stepped out onto the balcony; other times she opened it but chose to stay inside, with the lights off. Sometimes Glinda leaned against the railing and stared up at the sky, her gaze distant, without the spark everyone used to admire in her. There were days when Glinda let tears slip in the coldest silence, others when she played soft music in the background as she poured herself a second drink.
Something was wrong—something was very wrong, and Elphaba couldn’t do anything about it.
The only days when Elphaba managed to catch a glimpse of the Glinda she used to know were when someone named Milla knocked on her bedroom door. Elphaba learned her name the one time Glinda seemed surprised by her visit and said it with a hint of joy.
Elphaba assumed she was a friend, but the truth was that every time the girl appeared, she didn’t allow herself to stay and find out. Besides, that would be intruding on Glinda’s personal life, and she wouldn’t be capable of doing that. Watching her from above at night was already more than enough.
Elphaba wasn’t sure she wanted to confirm who this Milla was in Glinda’s life—but she had to admit that she brought the blonde out of the shadows she so often hid in.
In Ev, Fiyero watched her come and go more and more often, and even though she knew he would never say it, it was obvious that it hurt him.
“What’s worrying you so much, Fae?”
He caught her off guard with the question one morning after she returned. Fiyero hadn’t shown any interest in asking about Glinda since that first trip to Oz.
“It’s clear something’s been on your mind, and I know you—you won’t be at ease until you fix it.”
“This time, the problem is that I can’t do anything to fix it.”
she replied, resigned.
“In that case, I’m very sorry.”
Neither of them made any effort to continue the conversation.
Elphaba had that date burned into her memory. Every year, when the anniversary of her melting came around, she remembered everything that had happened with even more pain, so it was impossible for her not to try to ease it by visiting Glinda that night.
Five years since she left her home. Five years since she left Glinda alone without looking back.
With each anniversary, the details of that day came back with unsettling clarity, and every year there were things she regretted—like kidnapping that poor girl who didn’t even belong to that world and who had been so terrified. But deep down, Elphaba knew things would have ended badly for her one way or another. There was no way she could have been part of the Wizard’s plans—she couldn’t even imagine pretending to agree with him. Elphaba could never have played the role Glinda had.
Elphaba had always been destined to be the Wicked Witch of the West.
As she approached the Emerald City, Elphaba noticed the clouds beginning to darken, the temperature dropping, and distant thunder rolling across the sky. She wouldn’t be able to stay long this time.
It was already late into the night by the time she reached the height of Glinda’s balcony. It was dark—no lights were on inside the room. In fact, the Palace was darker than ever, lit only by the lights of the city.
The first thing Elphaba sees is Glinda watching the city from the balcony, but this time she isn’t leaning against it—she’s perched on the railing with her legs hanging into the void, holding a glass of the same alcohol she usually drinks. She is still wearing a dress; it’s blue and long enough to cover her legs, but not enough to hide her feet. She is barefoot, her makeup is smudged, and her blonde hair is messy.
Elphaba grew worried immediately. Glinda hates the cold, and with how sensitive she is to low temperatures, she must be trembling. In fact, Elphaba notices that she is, but the blonde simply chooses to ignore it. Elphaba had never seen her so sad, so dull.
Suddenly, she hears a deep sob escape Glinda, the kind that breaks you and twists your face with pain. Elphaba’s heart broke, and the desperation was starting to take over.
When Glinda’s glass emptied, the girl made a gesture with her hand and, in the blink of an eye, it was full again. It was a silly thing, and the situation didn’t allow Elphaba to appreciate it more than necessary, but it was the first time she had seen Glinda do magic. She remembered their days at Shiz and how determined Glinda had been to learn magic, to discover her power, and how she repeated over and over again that it was the greatest desire of her heart.
Now she had magic, but Glinda looked like the most miserable person Elphaba had ever seen in her life, only after the one she saw in the mirror every day.
By the time the fourth glass burned down Glinda’s throat, Elphaba began to pray that this Milla would appear in the room, that someone—anyone—would come to make sure Glinda was okay. But no one came, and Glinda was no longer only affected by sadness, but also by the alcohol in her veins.
Then it happened again. Glinda looked straight into her eyes, and Elphaba couldn’t breathe. Small drops of water began to fall from the sky, and in that moment she thought that the people who had told her she was so impure that water would burn her had been right, because she felt her skin burning while those brown eyes looked at her without even blinking.
When Glinda stopped looking at her, the drops of water stopped falling, but thunder and lightning began to rage. The blonde looked up at the sky and then down into the void. Her room was almost at the very top of the Palace—even Elphaba felt a huge sense of vertigo when she looked down.
Glinda’s next movement surprised her. The glass in her hand was tossed backward, hitting the floor of the balcony. It shattered into pieces. Elphaba feared that Glinda would cut herself on the way back into the room, but Glinda had no intention of going inside. Elphaba could barely move when she saw that, with great heaviness, the blonde stood up on the balcony railing.
Elphaba had felt fear many times in her life, but she had never been paralyzed by terror like in that moment. From being unable to breathe, she went to breathing too fast, but the air reaching her lungs didn’t seem enough. Not when she saw Glinda about to throw herself into the void.
Two seconds passed—two seconds before Elphaba reacted, and Glinda’s body, already in free fall, landed in her arms. She couldn’t hold onto her broom, not when Glinda’s weight was pulling them down. She knew she didn’t really need it to fly, so she let it go immediately, just so Glinda wouldn’t slip away from her.
Elphaba wasn’t thinking; she was simply reacting to the situation, so she didn’t even look at Glinda’s face until they landed on the balcony and she set her down inside the room with all the gentleness her nerves allowed.
Elphaba didn’t think until Glinda, now fully conscious, looked her in the eyes, her jaw slack and her arms tense at her sides.
Cold sweat ran down her hands and neck, and the only sound that could be heard was thunder crashing in the sky. Time felt endless, and Elphaba could hear her heart pounding wildly.
Then Glinda’s slack jaw snapped shut in fury. Elphaba watched as the blonde’s throat tensed, and her brown eyes shifted from pure shock to the most raw, visceral rage.
“Who do you think you are?”
Those were Glinda’s first words to Elphaba after five years.
“Answer me. Who do you think you are to show up out of nowhere after all these years and walk into my room without permission?”
The Wicked Witch’s stomach turned, and she felt like she was going to be sick. There was no right answer to Glinda’s question. She was no one.
“Why did you jump?”
That was all she could say.
“What do you care? It’s my life!”
“It matters to me.”
Of all possible answers, that was, without a doubt, the worst choice.
Glinda was about to lunge at her to try to hit her like she once did many years ago after Nessarose’s death. Elphaba saw it in her eyes, but at the last moment Glinda brought her hands to her stomach and started laughing uncontrollably. It was a cold, horrible, miserable laugh. Elphaba’s skin crawled, and she swallowed hard.
“I see your sense of humor has improved over the years. Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Did you become the freak everyone said you were when you were young, and now you work in a circus?”
The words hurt. They hurt a lot. But Elphaba figured she deserved them.
The words still wouldn’t come out. Elphaba just wanted to disappear, but at the same time, she needed to know that Glinda wouldn’t try to jump off the balcony a second time.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Silence. Absolute silence. Elphaba had never felt so small in her life.
“Then get out and go back where you came from, Elphaba Thropp.”
Hearing her name in Glinda’s voice hit her like a punch to the face and snapped her awake.
“I can’t leave until you promise me you won’t try that again. Until you calm down.”
“Calm down? You, of all people in Oz, are asking me to calm down today? Look, Elphaba, you know nothing about my life, you don’t know me, you have no right to come here, to my house, and ask me for anything.”
“Glinda, I didn’t mean to abandon you.”
Elphaba could barely speak; her voice was a whisper, but it was enough to see Glinda break again.
The blonde turned her back on her, but Elphaba could see her bringing a hand to her chest, as if the pain were also physical, as if something were being torn out from inside her and she was trying to hold it in by force.
Outside, the sky unleashed a storm so strong that Glinda suddenly turned and, with a quick gesture of her hand, sealed the balcony shut, leaving them both inside the room.
“It’s been five years since you left, and when you come back, you lie to my face?”
The choice of words surprised Elphaba, who stepped back a pace, driven by confusion.
“Glinda, did you know I was alive?”
“Do you think I’m that stupid, to actually believe you weren’t?”
That couldn’t be true.
“How…”
“You have no idea how I felt when I was abandoned—both lied to and left completely alone.”
Glinda’s bitter laugh echoed through the room again, above the rain.
“What? Did you also not imagine I’d find out he left with you? You underestimate me too much, but it’s nothing I haven’t endured before.”
Glinda poured herself another drink, and Elphaba still didn’t move, just watched her, unable to speak.
“How did you know?”
“Tell me something—how is my ex-fiancé? Is he still alive? Or did some match turn him to ashes?”
Elphaba knew how cruel Glinda could be; she had experienced it firsthand in her early days at Shiz, but not like this. Never like this.
“I think you were right when you said I didn’t know you anymore.”
The words slipped out before she could think them through.
“I see he’s still your weakness. I’m glad you have each other; you’re made for one another.”
Elphaba felt the enormous room growing smaller, more suffocating by the second.
“I’d better go. It’s clear you don’t want me here.”
“Pardon me—I suppose the Wicked Witch of the West was expecting a hug and a smile of happiness from me.”
“I didn’t…”
“So you’re still together, aren’t you? How do you manage it? Doesn’t it bother you that he’s made of straw and doesn’t have a brain?”
The edge of Elphaba’s cloak had ended up on the floor, so she picked it up and cursed under her breath when she remembered her broom was lying in a street in the city. She would have to go down and get it.
“I’m leaving you in peace, Glinda. And whether you believe it or not, I’m glad to see you.”
She said it with tears in her eyes, but also with complete sincerity.
“Where are you going?”
“Far from here. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“So you’re leaving again without answering a single one of my questions?”
Glinda’s voice was beginning to crack, just like her breathing.
“You’re not asking me questions, Glinda—you’re shooting at me without mercy. And I know I deserve it, but I can’t take it.”
“So because you can’t take it, you’re leaving and abandoning me again, is that it?”
The blonde raised her voice, and Elphaba noticed something beyond anger in her eyes now—anguish was starting to surface.
Glinda kept looking out at the rain and then back at Elphaba, unable to stop.
“I’m leaving because you told me to leave.”
“Five years. You left me alone for five years.” Her voice broke, and Elphaba heard her sob again like that day in Kiamo Ko. “This place was hell, and you left me alone with an enormous burden on my shoulders. And now you come back only to decide over my own life, you leave me in this damn room, and you walk away.”
A second glass hit the floor—but this time it wasn’t thrown. It slipped from Glinda’s hands, as she covered her face in desperation.
“I hate you, Elphaba Thropp. I wish I had never met you.”
Elphaba lowered her head, and tears fell to the floor right in front of the shattered glass. She knew it—she knew Glinda would hate her—but hearing it from her made her feel completely miserable and empty. She could endure the hatred of all Oz, but not Glinda’s.
She turned away, not daring to look at Glinda again.
“Forgive me, Glinda. Forgive me for ruining your life. I swear it was never my intention. And this is the last thing you’ll ever hear from me, so I ask you, please, please believe me: you are the most important person in my life. You are valuable, you are brilliant, you are the most intelligent person I have ever known, and you cannot deprive the world of you. You cannot jump from that balcony and leave the world in complete darkness, because you are the light of all Oz… and of my life.”
The last sentence was only a thought; Elphaba didn’t have the courage to say it out loud.
She approached the balcony door and opened it, took a deep breath, and stepped out… but the moment she felt the first drops of rain on her, Glinda’s hand was on her wrist. Elphaba turned, and the terror in Glinda’s eyes made her stop.
“You can’t go out, it’s raining.”
“It’s fine, I have my cloak.”
“Elphaba, you can’t go out, it’s raining.”
Glinda kept repeating the same phrase over and over, fear in her eyes.
“You’re going to get wet, please, don’t go out.”
Her grip on Elphaba’s wrist was tight; it was hurting, and Elphaba didn’t understand what was happening. Then Glinda fell to her knees over the shards of one of the glasses and begged her.
“Please, please, don’t go out. You’re going to get wet, you’re going to get wet and you’re going to disappear.”
The confusion turned into guilt—an overwhelming, burning guilt that made Elphaba drop to the floor with Glinda.
“Glinda, listen to me, I’m fine. The rain won’t do anything to me, I promise.”
“Please don’t go out, don’t go out.”
Glinda began to tremble and couldn’t breathe. In that state, there was no way to make her understand that the rain wouldn’t hurt her.
“I’m not going out.”
“Please…”
“Glinda, look at me. I’m not going out. Do you hear me?”
Still caught in the trance, Glinda managed to nod. Then Elphaba helped her up from the cold floor covered in glass.