Chapter Text
“Three…two…one!”
The cast erupted into laughter as they threw back shots of tequila, glasses slamming down against the table with a chorus of whoops and groans. Galinda winced as the liquor burned down her throat, but she was smiling. She had had just enough drinks to feel floaty and was enjoying herself, but her eyes kept drifting to her phone.
She watched her message sit un-replied to.
Galinda: That was fun earlier. I can’t stop thinking about it. The way you looked at me…I think I forgot how to breathe. Let me know you’re alive x
No dots. No read. Just silence.
Galinda crossed her legs a little tighter, the memory of earlier crackled through her skin. She hadn’t expected to fall apart like that on camera, but Elphaba just brought out that side of her.
Across the table, Vance clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Okay, okay…two truths and a lie: I studied ballet for ten years, I once gave a TED talk, and I’m banned from Canada.”
Milla looked at him with scepticism. “I’ve seen your plié, babe. Canada seems more likely.”
Laughter and the sound of glasses clinking filled the table. Someone yelled “No way you gave a TED talk!”
Vance held his hands up. “Okay, okay, you got me. Now…who’s next?”
The bottle of Casamigos spun until it pointed to Galinda. Her turn.
“Oh no,” she said, putting a hand to her chest dramatically. She squinted at the ceiling, thinking.
“Okay. One: I once made out with an actress during an audition and didn’t realise it wasn’t part of the scene. Two: I speak fluent Danish. Three: I once got asked to leave a SoulCycle for excessive enthusiasm.”
Laughter exploded again.
“That last one is definitely true,” said Amira, cackling. “You scream ‘cardio cheerleader.’”
A cast member called Lucy yelled out, “Danish is the lie.”
Galinda smirked. “Nope. I do speak Danish. My friend growing up was from Denmark and I took lessons.”
“Wait…seriously?” Vance said.
Milla smirked. “Remember that guy at college that was talking about you and didn’t realise you could understand him? When you spoke back to him, I swear to god, I’m surprised he didn’t throw up.”
Galinda laughed at the memory.
“What’s the lie then?” asked Amira.
“The actress,” Galinda said sweetly. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”
That sets off another round of hollering, and someone banged the table.
“Hold up, hold up,” Lucy said, pointing between Galinda and Milla. “Wait…you two went to college together?”
Milla raised an eyebrow. “Guilty.”
“No way,” said Vance, leaning in. “What was Galinda like before she was famous?”
Galinda groaned, already hiding her face in her hands. “Don’t do this.”
Milla grinned. “You mean before becoming the people’s princess?”
“Yes, exactly that,” Amira said, practically vibrating. “Spill.”
“She was…honestly? Kind of the same. Just less sparkly shoes and more oversized hoodies,” Milla said, nudging Galinda’s shoulder. “But always kind. Always charming. People were always drawn to her. And obviously very dramatic.”
“I was a theatre major,” Galinda mumbled into her hands.
“She once turned a coffee shop breakup into a monologue and got free drinks for three days,” Milla added.
“You did not,” someone said, scandalised.
“She did,” Milla confirmed. “And then she made me re-enact it with her for our final.”
More laughter.
Galinda peeked out from behind her hands, mock-pouting. “I cannot believe you’re betraying me like this.”
“I’m just giving the people what they want,” Milla said cheerfully.
Galinda gave a little giggle, but her eyes stayed on her phone, which she slipped into her lap, as Milla looked over with a questioning expression.
She murmured, “It’s Elphie,” without even being asked, as if her whole body had been waiting for someone to mention her.
Milla nodded like that explained everything.
“I figured,” she said. “You’ve got that ‘I’m low-key spiralling but pretending to be social’ face.”
Galinda gave a sideways smile. “Nailed it.”
Milla nudged her knee gently with hers under the table and gave her a sympathetic look.
Galinda looked to her phone again. The ache in her chest made her feel like she was floating two inches above her own skin.
Milla caught Galinda’s eye to get her attention. “You want to step outside for some air?”
Galinda paused and then gave a small smile. “Yes, air sounds good.”
They excused themselves from the group and made their way outside.
The patio was quieter than the bar inside. Galinda leaned against the railing, phone in hand, the screen still dark. She wasn’t even pretending to scroll anymore, just holding it, her thumb moving in idle circles over the case, like she could summon a message by sheer will.
Milla stopped beside her, quiet for a beat. She glanced at Galinda, studying the curve of her jaw, the tense set of her shoulders.
“Are you okay?”
Galinda exhaled. It came out soft and tired, barely more than a breath. “Elphie hasn’t texted back.” She hesitated, then added, “Since earlier.”
Milla didn’t ask what “earlier” meant. She just nodded, like she understood enough. “Maybe her phone died.”
“Maybe,” Galinda said. “It’s not like her. She always texts back…even if she’s busy.”
Without saying anything, Milla stepped closer and wrapped her arms around her. It reminded them both of times at college when they had supported each other.
Galinda let herself be held and relaxed for the first time that night.
Milla pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Galinda’s head, a grounding gesture to say ‘I’ve got you’ without words.
“She’ll text,” Milla said softly. “You’ll see.”
Galinda nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah.”
They stayed like that, until someone opened the door behind them and called their names. Galinda stepped back.
“Thanks Milla. I know we haven’t really been friends for years, but I’m so glad that you’re back in my life now. I’ve missed you.”
“I’m happy we’ve reconnected too,” Milla said, her voice low. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”
They smiled at each other, a quiet understanding passing between them.
Just then, the door creaked open again, letting out the thump of music and Vance’s unmistakable voice. “You two making a spin-off out here or what?”
Milla rolled her eyes with a grin. “Come on, drama queen. Let’s go remind them who runs the table.”
Galinda slipped her phone into her pocket and followed her back inside, determined to have a great time with new friends. Her messy love drama could wait until the morning. For now she had a shot of tequila waiting with her name on.
They rejoined the table, welcomed back with cheers and exaggerated clapping like they’d returned from war. Vance shoved a shot glass into Galinda’s hand before she could sit down.
“To air and the women who seek it!” he declared.
“To air!” everyone echoed, laughing.
Galinda raised her glass and downed it. She let herself be pulled back into the rhythm of the group.
Somewhere between a story about Milla’s disastrous dating life in college and Amira’s monologue on method acting, Galinda forgot about the weight in her chest. Or at least, it dulled to something manageable.
She laughed easily. She leaned in when someone whispered something outrageous. She clinked glasses without looking at the clock.
And when the bottle spun back to her for another round of “truth or lie,” she didn’t hesitate.
“Alright,” she said, eyes glinting. “One: I once had a tarot reader tell me I’d die dramatically. Two: I’m technically ordained and have officiated a wedding. Three: I’ve never been in love.”
A chorus of groans and gasps followed.
“That last one is definitely a lie. We’ve all seen how in love you are,” someone muttered.
Galinda just smiled and raised an eyebrow.
More shouting. More drinks.
She didn’t check her phone again.
Not because she wasn’t thinking about it, but because, for the moment, she was thinking about something else.
Everything else could wait until the morning.
In New York, Elphaba entered the private members’ club. She had been coming here for years, and the staff all knew her. They greeted her with familiar nods, her usual drink appearing before she even had to ask.
The first whiskey went down fast. The second, she let sit on her tongue, waiting for the slow burn to numb the restless energy under her skin. She didn’t want to think. That was the point of places like this.
Her eyes scanned the room, not searching, just observing, and then they caught.
A woman at the bar. Blonde. Sharp features. Red lips. Her gaze met Elphaba’s and didn’t flinch. Held it. Tilted her head, a smirk playing at her mouth. She recognised the type instantly, she always did.
Elphaba looked away first.
She finished her second drink, tapped the rim for a third. She wasn’t drunk, not yet, but the warmth in her veins was starting to smooth the edges of her restraint.
The woman was still watching her.
Elphaba turned slightly, angling her chair so their eyes met again. This time, she let the stare linger.
When the bartender passed, she flagged him down. “Her next drink’s on me.”
The bartender raised a brow but nodded, already moving. Elphaba watched as the woman accepted the drink, glancing over to her with a new expression, less curiosity, more invitation.
As a waiter passed, Elphaba caught his sleeve. “Is the back room available?”
The waiter nodded. “Of course, Ms. Thropp.”
She let her gaze slide back to the blonde. “And invite her to join me.”
The private room was dark and intimate, but Elphaba barely noticed as she paced, fingers running through her hair. She knew exactly what she was doing. Proving them right. Proving herself right.
The door opened.
“I was hoping you’d make a move,” the blonde purred, stepping inside.
“No talking,” she said, low and firm.
The woman only smiled and stepped in close, her perfume overwhelming the room.
She leaned in, lips nearly brushing Elphaba’s ear. “Trouble in paradise?”
Elphaba stiffened. “What?”
The woman pulled back slowly, a smug gleam in her eyes. “Oh, come on. You think I don’t know who you are? The actress, the parties, the magazine covers…you two are everywhere.”
Elphaba’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.
The blonde tilted her head, studying her. “She not keeping you satisfied? Or are you just bored of playing the fairy tale?”
Elphaba’s mouth was a hard line. “I said no talking.”
The woman’s smirk deepened, but she didn’t push further.
Elphaba kissed her, hard, cutting off any more words. The blonde gasped, but Elphaba didn’t slow down. Their teeth clashed, and when she pulled back, the woman touched her lip, blood smearing red against her fingers.
Elphaba barely registered it. In her mind, all she could hear was Avaric in her office. “You’ll be out there finding another whore to play with.”
She drowned him out by yanking at the woman’s top, fabric tearing.
“Hey,” the woman protested, but Elphaba ignored her. She was already unbuttoning her own shirt. She turned, pushed the woman gently but firmly until her back hit the wall. She kissed her, hard again. The woman moaned against her, pressing closer, her hands wandering until they found Elphaba’s breasts.
In a flash, Elphaba grabbed both wrists and pinned them above the woman’s head, trapping her against the wall. Her grip was tight.
The woman’s breath hitched. “Oh,” she said, smiling a little, like she thought this was part of it.
Elphaba’s jaw was clenched. She stared at the woman, not seeing her. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
The woman leaned up slightly, lips brushing against her neck, breath hot. Her body arched forward, trying to close the gap between them. Then, when Elphaba’s grip loosened just enough, the woman slipped one hand free and let it slide straight down, fingers slipping past Elphaba’s waistband.
A jolt of revulsion shot through her.
“No.”
She grabbed the woman’s wrist. Her own voice startled her.
The woman frowned, confused. “What?”
Elphaba let go, stepping back. “What am I doing?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
The woman said something, Elphaba didn’t hear it. She yanked her shirt back together, hands shaking.
All she could think about was Galinda.
Galinda’s laughter.
Galinda, undone beneath her, whispering her name.
Galinda, telling her she felt safe.
Galinda, in love with her.
Her stomach twisted.
She pulled a bill from her pocket, slamming it onto the table. “That’s for your top.”
Then she walked out.
The cold air outside hit her like a slap. She turned into the alley beside the club, pressing her back against the brick wall, breathing hard.
She had never walked out of that club alone before.
But it had felt wrong.
She ran a hand through her hair, staring up at the night sky, searching for answers she wouldn’t find.
For a moment, she thought she heard it. Galinda’s laugh. Light and infectious. Elphaba almost looked over her shoulder, like she might see her standing there, radiant and real. But then she remembered where she was and what had happened.
She wasn’t breaking the rules. The contract said she could sleep with others. She wasn’t cheating.
So why did it feel like she was?
Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. Once. She didn’t move right away, just kept breathing like she might forget how if she stopped.
Then she pulled it out.
Galinda.
Her chest clenched. Her fingers curled around the phone like she could crush it. Then she let go.
The phone sped through the air and cracked hard against the brick wall before skidding to the pavement, screen shattered.
Elphaba slid down the wall, buried her face in her hands, and screamed.
She stayed there for a long moment, crouched in the alley, chest heaving, hands tangled in her hair. Her scream had already vanished into the night, swallowed by city sounds and the soft, gathering hush of rain.
At first, it was barely a mist, just enough to cling to her skin. She didn’t move. Couldn’t. Not until the water turned steady, threading through her hair, slipping past her collar.
She stood slowly, arms wrapped tight around herself, and stepped out onto the street.
The world was wet, the asphalt gleaming under dim streetlights.
She didn’t think. She just walked. Past the night time traffic, past neon signs and shuttered windows. Her shoes splashed through puddles, soaking through. She kept walking. Let the cold bite at her, let the rain soak her through.
She didn’t stop until she was standing in front of a door, her breath fogging in the cool air, water dripping from her lashes.
She hesitated and then pulled her hand up and knocked.
Fiyero’s apartment was filled with the low hum of a jazz record spinning lazily on the turntable. He lay stretched across the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, the other holding a glass of something amber and expensive. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, his feet bare, a book forgotten on his chest.
It was one of those rare nights where no one was demanding his attention. Just him, the music, and the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the window. The saxophone crooned, and he let his mind drift.
Then suddenly, a knock. Three sharp raps.
He sat up slowly, frowning. It was nearly midnight. Crossing the room, he peeked through the peephole. His eyebrows shot up.
“Elphaba?”
She stood there soaked through, eyes burning.
“You alone?” she asked.
He nodded, stepping aside. “Yeah. Come in.”
She stepped in wordlessly, water dripping onto the floorboards. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, jaw set.
“What’s going on? You look…god, you look like you walked here.”
“I did.”
“You walked here?” His voice climbed with disbelief. “In this rain?”
She didn’t answer.
He stared at her, incredulous. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come to get you.”
Elphaba let out a shaky breath, reached into the pocket of her soaked coat, and pulled out what used to be her phone. The screen was spiderwebbed with cracks, the casing dented like it had been hurled against something hard.
Fiyero’s eyes widened. “What the hell happened to it?”
“I threw it at the wall,” she muttered, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He blinked. “Of course you did.”
Then, softening, he sighed. “Okay. Hang on.”
He disappeared down the hall and returned with a large towel and a bundle of clothes. “Here. You’re going to freeze to death like that.”
She took the towel without a word, clutching it like armour. He handed her a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “They’ll be huge on you, but they’re dry.”
She gave a small nod and headed down the hall.
When she came back, her hair was damp but towel-dried, her body swallowed by Fiyero’s clothes. The sleeves hung past her hands. She looked small and human.
Fiyero was in the kitchen, pouring hot coffee into two mismatched mugs. He slid one across the counter to her as she entered.
“Here.” He offered a faint smile. “You look slightly less like a drowned corpse.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, but there was a flicker of gratitude behind it.
He leaned back against the counter, sipping his own. “So… what happened?”
She stared into the mug like it might give her courage.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Try anywhere.”
She took the mug but didn’t drink. “I went to the bar tonight.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The usual?”
She gave a weak huff of laughter. “Yeah. That one.”
“And?”
“I tried to hook up with a girl.”
“Tried?”
She nodded. “Couldn’t go through with it.”
He blinked. “Wait…that’s never happened before.”
“Exactly.”
Fiyero smirked. “You’re being this dramatic because you couldn’t get it up?”
She shot him an unimpressed look. “Shut up.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry. Please, continue.”
“All I could think about was Galinda,” she said, voice quieter now. “It felt like I was cheating. Even though I wasn’t.”
Fiyero’s smile faded. “Ah.”
She leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I overheard her friend, earlier. Asking her if she was going to tell me she’s in love with me.”
Fiyero’s brows lifted. “Shit. What did you do?”
“I panicked. Obviously.” Her voice was sharp. Defensive. “I don’t do relationships, you know that. So I just… started spiralling. I ended up at the bar and then completely lost it. On the walk here, I figured I’ll have to find a way to let her down.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head.
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
He sat back, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “You’re so adamant that you don’t want a relationship. But when are you going to realise you’re already in one?”
Elphaba stilled. “What are you talking about?”
Fiyero leaned forward, ticking points off on his fingers.
“You haven’t slept with anyone else since you met her.”
“You’re always messaging her.”
“She’s the only person who can make you smile like that…like, actually smile, not that smug grimace you usually do.”
“You’re protective of her.”
“And don’t get me started on the way you look at her.”
Elphaba stared at him, stunned.
“I…” she breathed. “Shit. You’re right.”
A slow, almost proud grin spread across his face. “Of course I am.”
“I’m dating her.”
“Yup. I’ve been waiting for you to realise.”
“I didn’t even…fuck.” She stood suddenly, pacing. “I can’t. I can’t do this again. You know what happened.”
“She’s not her, Elphaba,” he said firmly. “And she’s not hiding. She’s not ashamed. She’s out. She has her own money, her own name. She’s not going to destroy you.”
There was a long silence, then Fiyero set down his mug and said, gently, “Wait. Just… look at this.”
He picked up his phone and began swiping, eyes scanning the screen.
Elphaba watched him warily. “What are you doing?”
“Hang on,” he murmured, tapping a few times. “Here.”
He turned the screen toward her.
It was a photo. A candid, clearly taken without them noticing. She recognised it instantly. She and Galinda were sitting side by side in a booth, in a coffee shop in LA. Their half-finished coffees on the table. Elphaba had her arm slung lazily over Galinda’s shoulder, and they were mid-laugh, looking directly at each other like nothing else existed.
Fiyero pointed to the image. “You see this?”
She swallowed. “Yeah.”
“You can’t fake that.” His voice was quiet. “You can’t fake the way you two are looking at each other. You especially.”
She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
He smiled, but it was bittersweet. “I didn’t even know you could look like that. You’re…beaming, Elphaba. You look happy.”
She didn’t respond right away, just stared at the photo like it was proof of something she hadn’t dared believe. Her fingers twitched against her knee.
“I know you’re scared,” he said, voice low. “But you already have this thing with her. The only difference now is whether you’re brave enough to admit it.”
The weight of his words lingered in the air.
Elphaba finally tore her eyes from the screen, blinking quickly.
“I have to go.”
“What? Where?”
“I don’t know. I just…need to think.”
“Elphaba”
But she was already walking out of the door.