[Thanks to ChoupyCrips-Writer and RavenCurls for Reviewing. You are treasured and adored. A little Fiyeraba near the end, as a gift for ChoupyCrips-Writer, who is praying for it. Pray no more, for your pleas have been answered. Kind of.]

Fiyero lay on his bed, staring up at the patterned ceiling. He reached up a hand to trace the neatly arranged circles, finding curious shapes in the creamy plaster. A quill, twirling in a slender hand. Even without colour, Fiyero knew whose hand he was imagining. Ignoring that thought, he moved onto another shape. But when one circle became an intelligent eye, he had to look away. Must everything he sees remind him of her?

XoX

Elphaba sat at her desk. It seemed to her that she spent the majority of her time at her gnarled, familiar desk, writing or marking. Sighing heavily, she regretted setting yet another paper for the class this week. They just rushed everything. Their points were poorly constructed, poorly continued and tapered off halfway through, trailing into a different subject altogether sometimes. The subject matter was simplistic and juvenile, often to do with photosynthesis instead of something that required deeper thought and studying. She couldn't remember shirking her duties as a student when she had attended Shiz. But then, she had had a lot of free time; her social life was barren and bare, compared to the flourishing and diverse gardens of others.

A muffled noise caught her attention, interrupting her train of thought. She glanced up warily, before freezing when she glimpsed a familiar dusky form. But she couldn't refuse him entry, for what kind of professor didn't listen to her students? Drawing her protective defenses around her, castle walls growing upwards, Elphaba resolved to be as curt as she possibly could manage, without coming off as impolite. She would project a front of cool collectedness, and forget the troubling, turbulent thoughts that Galinda had mentioned. That Fiyero lov-

No.

Straightening her spine, she acknowledged the gentle knock on her door with a short bob of her head. Allowing him inside her classroom, and not her mind. Fiyero smiled lopsidedly, the corners of his eyes creasing with nerves and a small shred of hope. Elphaba ignored this expression.

"Did you have a problem with your work, Master Fiyero?" Clasping her hands directly in front of her centered Elphaba, feeling something to hold on to. Fiyero shook his head and Elphaba began to worry. What did he want to talk about? An extension for an essay? Extra lessons?

"No, Miss Thropp. I just wished to know if you were alright?"

"Alright?" Elphaba's nose wrinkled in confusion. Why wouldn't she be alright?

"Yes, after your sister left you were quite-"

"Ah, yes... yes, I understand. Yes, Master Fiyero, I am quite content." She cut him off quickly, not wanting to wallow in her sadness at her familial exile. He was sweet to consider her, though, her brain cooed treacherously. No, don't go there, don't do that.

"Are you sure, because you were crying, and you had track marks," he paused to trace down her cheeks, where the ivy-coloured lines had faded to a light jade. Elphaba could hardly move for panic at his closeness, "right here." He breathed, finishing his thought.

"Track marks?" Elphaba echoed softly.

"Yes, from your tears, I think. Do you have an averse reaction to your tears?" He drew his fingers back and Elphaba let out a silent sigh of relief, mingled with traitorous disappointment. Then she processed his question.

A tsunami of conflicting desires crashed over her, leaving her torn between being honest and being proper. If she was honest and told him of her ailment, she would open herself up to disgust and ridicule, not to mention the closeness between them would increase at the divulging of such a hidden, close-guarded secret. If she was proper, she would safeguard her job and her livelihood, but possibly lose Fiyero's confidence. This inward battle raged, while Fiyero stood patiently, waiting for a reply. The silence stretched uncomfortably, but Fiyero stayed calm and pleasant, not allowing the awkwardness to bury him.

"I have an allergy," Elphaba finally blurted, "to water. If it comes into contact with my skin, it burns. Like acid." She hastened to explain. The relief at finally choosing a course of action was quickly drowned by regret. Now he could reject her if he so wished, like old food gone rotten and spoiled. Her great vow of keeping herself to herself, never allowing anyone close enough to even touch her, to spill her secrets, had been fractured. Elphaba saw Fiyero's mouth move and hastened to focus on his words.

"You poor creature," Fiyero whispered, cradling her jaw as if she were a bewildered baby bird, broken and yearning for comfort, "Burned by your own sadness." His face came closer to hers, and her brown eyes widened, muscles tensing at his nearness. Fiyero gently kissed her left cheek, landing his soft lips right on one of the barely-visible tracks. Elphaba's eyes, previously staring at him wide and scared, fluttered shut at the sweet sensation of his lips against her skin. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Elphaba experienced Heaven for a second time when Fiyero switched to her right cheek and repeated the action. Her mouth parted in pleasure, and Fiyero gently pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, emboldened by her reaction thus far.

But at this gesture, Elphaba's eyes flew open once more, terrified at the closeness of his mouth to hers. So near a kiss! her mind screamed at her in warning and in regret. Leaving Fiyero stumped at her abrupt change in demeanor, Elphaba scrambled for her book bag and fled the classroom. The Vinkun Prince stayed by her desk, cursing his forwardness. If only he could have controlled himself!

Now he had lost her to her essays and solitude.

[Elphaba ran, and now Fiyero is sad. Any suggestions?]