Elphaba looked down from her vantage point on the second floor. She could see the entire library lobby from where she was. She had never been to the library at night; it closed at 5pm daily without fail, as if the librarians knew that there would be some students (maybe one only) who would forget about their dinners unless they were chased out of the building. The library was always a quiet, tranquil place; its dark walls, dim lights and endless rows of books giving a feel that the place was older than ancient. But not tonight. The lobby of the library had been converted for the party, complete with a live band, party food and decorated with streamers, and filled with students who would not have stepped into the library otherwise. The second floor was spared from the decorations and the blare of the music, yet Elphaba could not find any peace in her refuge.
She pressed her face between the last two balusters of the railing skirting the edge of the upper floor, her fingers gripping the wood, like a child who was eager to join the party but was forbidden to do so. But she was the one who had banished herself; she never liked parties. Galinda, her roommate, had insisted that she should join, because the blonde believed that Elphaba would be addicted to parties once she had attended 'a good one'. She had confiscated her roommate's key to their room to ensure that the green girl would not sneak away the moment her back was turned.
The girls were dressed in the latest fashion, in so many different shades of pinks and pastels that it hurt her eyes just to look at them. The jewelries that they wore sparkled even in the dim light, a mock display of urban fireflies. The Gillikinese boys stood out with their golden crowns and starched white shirts that they favoured. Most of the students were chatting with their friends or drinking, their laughter filling the air, but a few couples had gone to the designated dance area and danced to the music, their moves executed flawlessly, as if they were performing for their friends.
He stood out from the crowd as usual.
He was moving across the lobby, led by Glinda, their fingers intertwined, weaving through the crowd with a grace seldom seen in boys his age. He fist bumped with a friend and spoke to another, grinning at the response that his friend gave. He wore a simple off-white shirt with a light jacket, seemingly plain clothes compared to what the other boys wore, but he was never one who needed expensive clothes to make him stand out in a crowd. She would not be surprised if the simple clothes that he wore tonight would become the fashion among the Shiz boys tomorrow. The couple was joined by Pfannee and ShenShen, and Elphaba could see that the girls were admiring Glinda's tailor-made dress; the Gilikinese was more than happy to point out the various parts of the dress – the tulle, the sequins, even the workmanship of the inner corset that emphasized her hour-glass figure. The girls giggled over something, and Galinda leaned against Fiyero contentedly. He whispered something to her ear, his hand moving to her arm, and Elphaba felt her heart tightened.
Elphaba turned away from the scene and rested her head against the bookshelf behind her. She wanted to get out of here. She wanted to go back to her room, but Galinda had confiscated her room key the moment they were out of the door, and with her luck, she would most probably be caught by her bubbly roommate if she attempted to sneak out of the library by its one and only door. She contemplated breaking a window on the second floor to climb out of the library as she took a sip from the drink in her hand, some kind of mixed fruit punch. Her face grimaced at the taste, and she coughed when the underlying bitterness hit her throat. She lifted the bottle and down the drink at one go, trying to ignore the urge to throw up. The heat from the drink slowly enveloped her, and she let out a sigh. The music pounded in her head, drowning out all thoughts, but it numbed her heart. She closed her eyes. She would drink this everyday if it could numb her heart forever.
A pair of footsteps came up the stairs, accompanied by a barely stifled giggle. A couple. Elphaba could not help but roll her eyes under her eyelids. The girl bumped onto a shelf and giggled, and the sound of a soft kiss followed. Another burst of giggles, and Elphaba could hear their quick steps as they moved from shelf to shelf, the girl playing hard to get, boy's voice coaxing her to stop.
The girl's giggles were suddenly replaced by a gasp.
"What is she doing here?" the girl asked, her voice close by. Elphaba opened her eyes, and saw the silhouette of a girl in puffy skirt, her face buried in the chest of the boy beside her, as if she had just come upon a roadkill. No, not Galinda. More than half of the girls who turned up for the party wore dance dresses with puffy skirts.
Elphaba wanted to say something about how she had as much right as the rest of them to come here. Instead, she raised her hand and waved her bottle at them. The male companion whispered something to the girl and guided her away, but not before he said one word.
"Freak."
She hoped that her presence had spoilt their mood.
Elphaba tried to sip from the bottle again, and then remembered that she had finished it earlier. Galinda was right, she just needed to find the 'right party'. And this was the right party, with the best drink in the world. It loosened her inhibitions, numbed all the feelings that she had when she thought of him and her together, all the ugly feelings that surfaced when she saw them together, feelings that she had absolutely no right to have.
"Magic drink," she smiled at the green bottle in her hand. She needed more of this. If only she could remember where she had gotten it.
A shadow fell across her face, telling her that she was not alone.
She looked up and saw a figure loomed high before her. A pair of well-polished shoes, crisp pants. The sleeves of his jacket and shirt was rolled up to his elbows, the first two buttons on his shirt undone. The tattoos on his exposed arms glimmered in the dark, like distant stars in the sky.
"So you've been hiding here all night," he said, as if he had been searching high and low for her.
She gave him a loopy smile.
"Elixir," she said, as she dangled the bottle before him by its neck. Fiyero frowned, his eyebrows knitted close together, and she copied his expression with a pout. He always frowned when he looked at her nowadays, just like Father. But Father was never happy with her. She was green and a failure. She was the reason why Nessarose, his angel, was born without limbs, and the reason why Mother died. Fiyero frowned as if she had done something wrong, as if she was a disappointment, as if her presence displeased him. Elphaba turned away from him at that thought. She did not want to displease him.
Fiyero knelt next to her and pried her fingers open so that he could take the bottle from her.
He took a sniff of the drink and gave a disgusted snort as he turned the bottle to look at the self-made label that had partially come off. "What did Avaric put inside?"
"Elixir." Elphaba giggled.
His frown deepened.
"How many bottles did you have?"
Elphaba only smiled.
She could hear him swearing softly under his breath. She had offended him again.
"Can you stand?" The prince asked. Elphaba looked around, trying to find her limbs, and the next thing she knew, Fiyero had put his arms around her and pulled her up with him.
"Can you stand?" He asked again as he tried to make her stand upright.
"I can fly," she promised him, flapping her arms as she tried to catch her balance. Her legs buckled, and Fiyero caught her, an arm around her to support her.
A strong, protective arm around her, pulling her to him.
She flopped against him like a sparsely stuffed rag doll. She mumbled something in an urgent voice, something about stars in the sky.
"You're high," he observed dryly.
"So high I can fly," she whispered to his skin, the arm that was not pressed against him trying to flap again.
Fiyero did not answer but lift her into his arms, tilting slightly so that she lolled against his body. She was so light, almost weightless in his arms. He carried her out from her hiding place, his gentle gait lulling her and her mumbling ceased.
He found a couch by window and put her down before he pushed the window open with one hand, letting in the cool air. She wore a sleeveless dress, and he took off his jacket and draped it around her, letting the green girl rest her head on his chest.
He pushed a few strands of hair away from her face. Elphaba had let her hair down, and Glinda had curled its end with a curling tong. Fiyero sifted his fingers through her hair, feeling the silkiness of those dark locks. He knew that she would never let him, or anyone else touched her like this if she was sober. She had always kept to herself, always quiet and keeping people at arm's length, except for the occasional passionate outbursts. He had never told her that he liked her hair. He had never told her that he wanted to know the secrets behind her pair of sad eyes. Elphaba nestled closer to him, her eyes closed, drawn to the scent of his aftershave, relishing the heat from his body. His fingers moved to her neck subconsciously, a thumb brushed against her jaw. He wanted to trace her jaw and trace her lips. He wanted to tilt her chin so that he could see her face, so that he could …
"I'll get you some water," he said before he could give in to his desires and made a mistake that he would regret.
A green hand reached out and grabbed his shirt.
"Freak does not want water," she mumbled onto his shirt.
"What?" Fiyero was surprised.
"Freak does not want water," she repeated again, rubbing her face on his shirt as she shook her head.
"You're not a freak!" Fiyero told her. She could hear the harshness in his voice. Now he was angry with her. Maybe he was angry because she had crinkled his shirt. She let her hand fall.
"Elphaba," he called her name again. "Who called you a freak?"
Elphaba leaned back, away from him, and Fiyero had to grab her arm to stop her from falling to the floor. She folded her legs close to her chest and buried her face in her hands. She shook her head again, muttering nonsensical words behind her hands.
Fiyero tried to pull her hands away from her face but the green girl refused to budge.
"Elphaba," Fiyero paused mid-sentence. He remembered that Galinda had told him something a few days earlier - she had finally figured out the reason for Elphaba's recent moodification and daydreaming. She must be in love, Galinda whispered to her boyfriend, ecstatic with the idea that her green roommate had lost her heart to a boy, though Galinda had no idea who the boy was, because Elphaba refused to admit anything no matter how much she questioned.
"Elphaba," he tried again, his voice softer. "I don't know much about you, but you are a nice girl. You're smart, compassionate. You are a good friend… if there's someone who did not see all that… he is blind, and it's his loss. You're a wonderful girl…" He tugged at her arms and, when she gave in, pulled her into his arms. He felt her arms slowing inched their way around his neck, her face in the crook of his neck. He brushed a thumb against her cheek. He wished that he knew who the guy was, the jerk who had broken her heart. He would like to see the look on the jerk's face when his face met Fiyero's fist.
Elphaba mumbled something again.
He dipped his head so that he could hear her.
"Yes?" he smoothed her hair, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
Elphaba mumbled something again. Two syllabus. A boy's name, too soft for him to hear.
"Who is he?" he asked softly, wanting so much to find the identity of the boy, and yet his heart constricted at the thought that he would soon know who had taken her heart and trampled on it. Elphaba lifted her face ever so slightly. Not enough to brush her lips against his skin, but enough for him to react subconsciously, meeting her lips without a second thought.
Her lips were soft, yearning. Her taste, like fresh spring water against his parched lips which had been thirsting for hers for so long.
He knew that it was wrong. She was in love with someone else, and he was dating her roommate. She was high on some drink that Avaric had concocted and he should not take advantage of her when she was so helpless. She must have mistaken him for the jerk that she was in love with, the jerk who did not deserve her, but he kissed her again, unable to help himself. Elphaba's hand went to his chest, gripping his shirt, her lips parting. He tried to stop, but Elphaba made a sound at the back of her throat and pulled him back, and he could not think anymore. He deepened the kiss, knowing fully well that he was spiraling out of control. He would pretend, just for a moment, that he was the one that she loved, the boy who had been occupying her mind.
He heard the sounds of heavy footsteps stomping up the stairs. The sounds stopped before they reached the top.
"Fiyerooooo?" a voice hollered.
Avaric.
Fiyero pulled back, and Elphaba gave a little whimper, her eyes still closed. He pulled her to him, hugging her close, his thumb rubbing little circles on her shoulder.
"I know you're up there. Your girlfriend is looking all over the place for you." Avaric hammered the metal railing impatiently with his fist. "I know what you're doing up there. I'm going up if you are not coming down."
Fiyero swore softly. Avaric, if anything, was a bigger loudmouth than a flirt, and all hell would break loose if he came up and saw who he was with.
"I'm coming," he called over his shoulder to the Gillikinese.
He looked at Elphaba. Her eyes were still closed, and she looked as if she was drunk on the fruit punch or in the bliss of his kisses. He wanted to tell her that he would come back to look for her, to bring her back to her room so that she could rest but he stopped himself at the last moment. He did not want to see the horror in her face when she opened her eyes at the sound of his voice and found out who she had been kissing.
"What's taking you so long?" Avaric asked when Fiyero met him at the mid of the stairs. Fiyero did not reply, and the blond made a faux attempt to rush up the stairs. The Arjiki grabbed his friend by the elbow and gave him a glare.
"Cool it," Avaric advised as he pulled his arm away, rubbing at the spot that Fiyero had gripped too tightly. "Who's that upstairs? Why are you so protective of her?"
"Just leave her alone, Av," he spoke in a hushed tone as he gave his friend a shove.
Avaric raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I won't bother her. But… but if she is so important, then why you are still dating blondie?"
Fiyero did not reply. He had been asking himself the same question every day, and he had no answer.
A gust of wind blew through the courtyard. It shook the trees, scattering leaves and flowers. Elphaba woke up to a shower of yellow petals on her, blown in by the wind.
It took her a few moments before she remembered where she was. The library. The party. The music had stopped, but she could still hear the voices from downstairs. She was on one of the couches. But she did not remember how she had made her way to the couch. She picked up a petal with a shaking hand as bits and pieces of her dream came back to her. A pair of arms, strong and steady. A male voice, sounding so much like Fiyero's, next to her ear. She remembered her hand gripping onto him, his lips meeting her, the magical feeling that she had never felt before. The dream was so vivid, it felt almost real. She remembered mumbling all the things that she had never dared to say before. She had said his name, called him Yero, the way Galinda sometimes did but which Elphaba never did, because she was totally unworthy to call him so affectionately.
She touched her lips gently with a finger. She might have woken up, but she could still feel the pressure on her lips, the lingering warmth of a hand on her back, the slight probing of a tongue. She could still remembered the touch of fine hair at the nape of a boy's neck against her fingers, the way it tickled her skin, the feel of his chest under her hand.
She looked away from the petal as she let it fall and her eyes landed on the jacket that was draped around her.
The jacket that she had seen on a particular boy earlier that evening.
Yero.
His jacket.
His arms.
His voice.
His kiss.
Fiyero, who had heard all her shameless confessions.
Elphaba raised her hand as she tried to swallow the gasp that was trying to escape from her.
The school freak, the resident artichoke, confessing her crush for him.
He should have rejected her. He should have pushed her away. He should have laughed at her and left her alone. The pity that he must have felt for her; the school outcast, ugly as sin, who had dared to fall for the most popular boy in school. The shock and disgust that he must have felt when she tried to kiss him; he had tried to pull away, and she had pulled him back, the overpowering need for him the moment her common sense had left her.
Freak. Outcast. Pathetic. Seeking the unattainable, the impossible.
She knew that he would never tell anyone; because he was too much of a gentleman, because he would be too repulsed by the memory, too disgusted by what had transpired. Her secret would be safe with him, one way or another.
But he would not forget.
Elphaba knew that she would never be able to look him in the eye again.
She slid to the floor, his jacket falling off her shoulders as she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs so that no one could hear. She let the tears fell.