We build a treehouse
I keep it from shaking
Little more glue every time that it breaks
Perfectly balanced
And then I start making
Conscious, deliberate mistakes
More and more he had the feeling that his relationship was becoming more and more superficial. On the surface everything was perfect, everything was beautiful, everything was wonderful. The two of them were going to get married. She would be a beautiful bride, in a pure white dress, a long train. She would have a regal, but not tacky tiara seated in her curls. He would wait at the end of the aisle, smiling, giving her a beautiful ring.
It all was wonderful until you looked beneath the surface, saw the arguments behind closed doors. They were rare. Both of them were desperate to hide any flaws in their relationship. She refused to see any there, and he didn't want to think about them. So they hid behind fake walls any problems. On rare occasions, after they let it build up, they would have a screaming match.
It was never pretty.
It always ended with her crying. Fiyero could not stand seeing Glinda cry. He would always buckle on whatever point he had tried to make. He would open his arms to her, brush her hair out of her face, tell her the fight was over, all was forgiven.
Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he just told her he wanted out. He wondered what would happen if they were suddenly less perfect. He wondered if it would solve anything if he simply left her. It was so tempting sometimes... But he couldn't do it, could he? He couldn't bare the thought... it would hurt her so badly.
He desperatly wanted to simply not think. Not think of his failing relationship, not think of the way he still thought about Elphaba every day. Not think of the fact that he wanted to find her not as a servive to the Wizard or to save her from the Wizard. He wanted to find her because he loved...
No! His mind screamed for him to stop having those thoughts. He wished he could simply be happy with Glinda. Have the dream wedding, have the standard two point five children. Things would be so perfect.
But real life was not perfection. Could he fool himself into believing he was genuinely in love with her? Nobody would need to know he didn't really love her. He could pretend, couldn't he? Nobody would need to know what was really in his heart. Nobody needs to know...
I grip and she grips
And faster we're sliding
Sliding and spilling
And what can I do?