Avaric looked over at his best friend, his confidante, his pal. Fiyero was sulking, glum; unusual for his usually cheerful self. He sat there, doodling on a scrap of paper, pulled from his nearly empty exercise book. His t-shirt was pushed back far enough that the pale diamond tattoos on his skin were clearly visible.
Fiyero felt like his heart was in disrepair. He had tried speaking to Elphaba; but she kept pushing him away. He wasn't entirely sure how much longer he could keep trying before he would give up. He didn't notice Avaric nearby.
"Why so glum, chum?"
By Inkhandedlady