AN:

Hello, Dearies!

Yeah, back from the dead xD For everyone who is a returning reader (are there gonna be any? It has been aaaaaaaages!), you can find more detailed info in the edited AN of Chapter One.

Other than that, I just hope this new chapter is up to scratch and all (ph, and I actually didn't edit/ fix my old chapters...).

Thousand thanks to everyone and anyone who has supported me in the past, still is supporting me or just starting out reading my stuff!

And now, happy reading!

xoxo MLE (=^_^=)


Chapter Seven

The melodious tune of her alarm woke Glinda an hour earlier than usual. Blindly, she searched for her phone on the nightstand and pushed the first button she could find. She didn't want to leave the cosy bed, didn't want to take the first step into a new day when the previous one had been so cruel and exhausting. It had ended on a far gentler note than she'd dared to hope, that much was true. Still, she could hardly expect Elphaba to continuously save her from her own demons and insecurities.

They had not talked about any of it after leaving the Corn Exchange. Instead, they had discussed Animals, politics and some titbits of their youth. They had even talked about Elphaba's job when all other topics had seemingly been exhausted for the time being. Glinda had clandestinely enjoyed that part more than should be expected. The last few hours of the evening they had spent on the couch, munching on Vinkun takeout and sipping wine while watching various documentaries on WizzFlickz. She'd felt safe and, most of all, distracted from those nagging thoughts that had plagued her the past two days. Leaving the sanctuary of the bed and, ultimately, of Elphaba's house was a daunting prospect by comparison.

Having very little choice in the matter though, she finally flung back the blanket when the alarm recurred. She wrapped herself in one of the guest bathrobes and grabbed her small makeup bag from her purse. Opening the door, no more than an inch, she checked for unexpected visitors or inhabitants. Once she was finally convinced that the coast was clear, she quietly slipped into the bathroom next door.

Her clothes were already waiting for her, hanging from the curtain rail of the shower. She wrinkled her nose at the idea of wearing the same outfit twice in a row, but all items were freshly laundered, thanks to Elphaba's help. It felt odd as she pulled her camisole over her face, taking in the crisp, clean scent of Elphaba's detergent, so different from Glinda's usual flowery fragrances. Odd indeed, but by no means unpleasant.

When she finally descended the stairs to make her way to the kitchen, she found the house deserted. It was unlikely that Shell would have returned after they had gone to bed, but if so, he was seemingly not up yet. For that at least she was grateful. What pleased her far less, was the fact that Elphaba had already left. If the empty kitchen was not evidence enough, the note she found on the table quickly abated any hope Glinda might have had.

'Apologies for leaving without seeing you first,' it read, and Glinda smilingly shook her head. The rest of the note were instructions – an order to help herself to anything she could find in fridge, freezer or pantry; a brief manual on how to use the gas stove; and lastly, directions concerning the whereabouts of the house key and a request that she take it with her and keep it until their next meeting. Glinda raised an eyebrow at that. Simply popping it into the letter box might have been the more common solution, but perhaps Elphaba didn't deem it safe enough.

Following Elphaba's first instruction without any inhibitions, Glinda grabbed a pack of organic pancake mix. As a side, she chose a few berries, accompanied by some clotted cream. She had a coffee with that and considered making herself a smoothie, when her gaze fell on her phone on the counter. It was already twelve past seven. If she didn't want to be horrendously late for work, she'd have to leave this very moment and pray for the tram to not be overcrowded.

As it turned out, forgoing her smoothie was not enough to save her from the disgrace of tardiness. After initially turning her back on the small mess in the kitchen, she was quickly overcome by a sense of guilt. The knowledge that a professional cleaner would most certainly arrive before Elphaba would even return home did not negate Glinda's ingrained conviction that it was incredibly rude and ungrateful of any guest to not restore order where their activity had caused disarray. She neatly sorted her used dishes and utensils into the dishwasher, wiped the table and counter and emptied the capsule bin of the coffee machine. Her conscious thus appeased, she grabbed her bag and run towards the hall. She found the spare key on the side table by the door, as promised, and with it another piece of paper.

'Call me after work.'

The words made her pause and stare at the cryptic message. A nervous flutter spread throughout her belly, as she tried to decipher the purpose of Elphaba's request. It was unlikely to be anything of much consequence, Glinda dismissed at last, shoving the note into her bag and rushing out of the house.


It was a fair distance to walk to the main station. With her heels, there was little she could do to catch up on lost time, no matter how hard she tried. The old, slippery cobbles were too hazardous for rushing, let alone running. Once she had made it that far, the tram was packed enough but thankfully not so badly that she had much trouble to squeeze in. The rest of her journey was very straight forward and within half an hour, she reached her destination.

Glinda checked the timetable on the whiteboard in the foyer. By the looks of it, she had arrived no more than twenty minutes after the last of her co-workers. While that wasn't exactly something to be proud of, she also didn't expect to get into any serious trouble over it. The receptionist gave her a stern look, of course. It almost seemed to be the woman's job to disapprove of any employee transgression she observed, much like a strict governess who was keeping her unruly children on their toes. Paying her no heed, Glinda only curtly nodded at her in passing and swiped her key card.

Briefly scanning the floor, she noted that Mr. Nikidik was not at his desk – a happy coincidence. As she rushed to her own seat before her chance would pass, a stray strap on the ground escaped her notice, but not her heels. She tripped. With some luck, she was able to steady herself on time to prevent a fall, but the bag attached to the strap was less lucky and got flung across the room. An uncomfortable heat spreading through her body from the adrenaline, her face and ears flushed, Glinda staggered towards her desk to free her hands.

"Excuse me," she half-whispered hoarsely, making her way past the bulky swivel chairs of her colleagues to retrieve the satchel.

When she turned around, Dayae met her, ready to take the hazardous thing from her.

"Sorry, that is Yolona's. She is in the conference room with Nikidik. Probably should have put the thing on her chair instead."

Glinda nodded, still abashed.

"Well, it's fine. At least I managed to provide some entertainment to these guys."

Luckily, nobody had dared to laugh. The room had remained mostly quiet, except for a few awkward coughs. Glinda had not dared to look up to see how many eyes were staring at her.

"They've been in that meeting all morning," Dayae went on to explain. "If you wanted to, you could just pretend you came in with everyone else and change your time on the board later. I won't tell, and I doubt anyone else will notice."

"Am I going to get fired over this?" Glinda chuckled, half joking, half nervous.

Her colleague quietly snorted.

"Most likely not. But you might want to be more careful. This is not the first time, nor do I believe that it will be the last."

With a gentle pat on Glinda's arm, she retreated to her cubicle, prompting her to do the same.

Concentrating on her tasks did not come easily to Glinda, however it did work out better than the previous day. Her finger still searched for the missing ring in regular intervals, especially when her hands lingered restlessly on the keyboard while her brain tried to think. She got stuck making her calculations every now and again, stumbled a few times when the right words and phrases eluded her as she wrote her reports. When she tried to call a client for further clarifications, she found herself trapped in a seemingly endless waiting loop. It was at times like these, that unbidden images or sounds came back to her – images of Korrell's ugly, mocking visage; the sound of his sharp, hurtful sneers.

She still struggled, but not as hopelessly as before. Yesterday had given her a method to cope with it, a counterweight that lifted her up somewhat whenever her darker thoughts were dragging her down. In her head, that small light at the end of the tunnel was personified as Elphaba's smiling face and soft, comforting words. Although Glinda had known most of the answers to her doubts and angsts herself, she had needed another person to confirm them and bolster her confidence. It was endlessly more reassuring to hear the truth from someone else than to simply know it. It didn't quite mean that she was out of the woods yet, but she was getting there.

During her lunchbreak, she only headed to the cafeteria for some strong coffee, fearing that sitting down for the sole purpose of consuming a few morsels of food would cause her to brood uselessly. Dayae was there and so were a few others. Yolona, who sat with the Munchkin, waved at her and called her name.

"Hey, sorry about the bag," she apologised while moving aside her magazines to make room for her.

Glinda shook her head.

"I hope you had nothing fragile inside. I think I flung it straight into a wall."

They chatted for a few moments about nothing in particular. Dayae offered the others her trademark Munchkin chocolates, Yolona placed a punnet of strawberries in the middle of the table. Glinda gratefully helped herself to both, promising she'd bring sharable treats tomorrow.

Before long, her phone started to buzz, and she almost picked it up – expecting it, for some silly reason, to be Elphaba. It wasn't though. Noticing that it was only Milla, she quickly declined the call. It annoyed her that she always seemed to be calling during business hours, as if she had no concept of work life. Unsurprisingly, the call was chased up by a message soon after, which Glinda deemed appropriate enough to check it out.

The other two had been discussing something she had not listened to while reading Milla's text and Dayae was now seemingly asking for her opinion. The only answer Glinda was able to give was disorientated look, which made her colleagues smile.

"We've been talking about that new Munchkin café around the corner," Dayae backtracked to explain. "You doing anything after work?"

"Oh." Glinda let out a small breath of air. "Well, I'm afraid I am now," she apologised, fumbling with her phone. "A friend of mine just requested a meet-up. Might need a shoulder to cry on or something."

With that, she started to collect her things. The remark had come out offhandedly, maybe not entirely believable. After all, it absolutely nothing to do with them. She had not yet replied to Milla. The unusually short message had indeed sounded like she was in need of a bolstering conversation or at least a few consoling pats on the back – things Glinda barely felt in any position to give right now. Any person more selfish than Glinda would have made the necessary excuses and moved on to deal with their own worries. Even a small voice inside her head advocated for this. She remembered their last outing though and immediately guilted herself into obliging her friend, no matter what she needed from her. She replied to Milla on her way back to the desk.


When Glinda entered the cheap family restaurant a few streets away from her office building, Milla was already there, impatiently waiting for her in the first booth to the right. She didn't look too bad, Glinda thought. Maybe a bit gloomy, however, not as desperate as her bad conscience had made her imagine she might.

They hadn't had any contact since the Florinthwaite Club. Perhaps, she should have called her the next morning to see if she had gotten home alright. She'd been a bit preoccupied though and, with some embarrassment, had to admit that she'd almost forgotten about Milla. Most of the events that had taken place that night would best be forgotten, she reasoned. Besides, her friend could have dropped a few lines just as easily. She knew that Glinda would always be there if she needed her. More like, she also hadn't felt it necessary to communicate. Until now.

Arriving at the small booth, Glinda greeted the other girl with a tired "Hey," and flopped down on the seat. It was covered with synthetic azure leather, ripped in places and patched up with blue duct tape of a wildly different shade. In the same manner, the menus were worn and only crudely mended, with adhesive tape and staples. She recalled the lunchbreaks and dinners they had shared at this place when they had both still been university students, ingenuous in their unworldliness. The restaurant had been newer and prettier then. The food hadn't changed though. It had never been amazing, but always edible enough. This was still the case, she acknowledged, when she took a bite of the pasta that had been placed in front of her.

"… and it must have been right after that, that he came to my place, not suspecting that I already knew all about it," Milla concluded the story Glinda had barely been able to follow in all details. She got the gist of it though and had been nodding in all the appropriate places. She even reached across the table to take her hand now.

"I'm so sorry, Darling," she sighed, giving the hand she was holding a little squeeze. "It's dreadful, it is!"

There she paused, unsure whether her friend was more in a mood to grief or rage. Did she require consolation or someone to second her rants? The beginnings of Milla's narrative had seemed a bit fuzzy to her. Was she talking about the same guy she had gotten cosy with at the club, or had she found someone else later on? At any rate, the relationship – if that was the right name for it – could not have lasted longer than just over a week. How committed could anyone possibly feel after such a short acquaintance?

"At least you found out about him as early as you did," she decided to say, hoping the other girl was not too distressed to see this silver lining.

"I know. But, how could he? How can anyone? Why do guys do this shit? It's so cruel."

Milla looked more crushed now than she had when Glinda had first seen her twenty minutes ago, and she wondered whether she was doing her any favours by indulging her pity party. 'It could be the kind of guys you keep picking,' she considered suggesting, but thought better of it. 'Maybe you choose boys too hastily, too carelessly,' was another notion she entertained. It probably wouldn't have gone down any better than the first. 'Why are you in such a rush?' Glinda couldn't quite grasp the concept of single panic, especially among her peers of equal age.

Not knowing how to continue their conversation made her feel restless and tired and was driving her ever closer to sheer irritation. It took all her constraint to preserve her calm countenance, but what good wold it do to lash out on someone like that? Perhaps Milla was wasting her time, or perhaps the fault lay with Glinda, unable to empathise.

Slowly, still deciding on her response, she released Milla's hand to take a sip of her drink. Putting the glass back down, she licked her lips and said, "Maybe you could lay off your hunt for a while? Not all men are assholes and, who knows, it might just be possible that the right type of guy is more likely to run into your net by chance rather than design."

The reward for her honest appraisal of Milla's situation was a sceptical eyebrow quirk.

"And how is that working out for you?" Milla challenged sullenly. "I haven't heard of any boyfriends – not even potential ones – since Fiyero. How's the old galoot anyway?"

"Well enough, thanks. And I'm working on it. I prefer to be choosy. It saves me many bitter disappointments, I think."

There was an undertone that Glinda had not intended, but had been unable to contain. Milla only shrugged, rejecting the indirect advice wholesale – with or without undertones.

"Well, you do you," she muttered, waving her hand dismissively. "You're younger than me. You may still have time for that. And you're prettier than me, too. And smarter. Once you actually set your eyes on a target, the game is as good as won."

Rolling her eyes, Glinda reached for her drink again. Arguing was one of the last things she was willing to do right now, together with coming out to any more people for the next few months. Granted, Milla was older than her - by ten months and twelve days, which seemed ridiculously insignificant. She also looked pretty enough, with her red, wavy hair and playful, bright green eyes. Most important of all, she definitely had a ton less hang-ups about sex and relationships compared to herself, which always tended to be a plus with the guys. But little did she know about Glinda's disadvantages in this territory, and there was no true reason to enlighten her there and then.

In the end, Glinda could do little to cheer Milla up, despite her best efforts. Once the meals, drinks and deserts were finished, they called it a day and settled the bill. Outside the restaurant, they exchanged a few final, somewhat awkward words. Watching her friend leave, Glinda had an odd, indeterminable intuition that she wouldn't see her for quite a while.


Back at her flat, she reached into her bag to pull out the laptop and a thick file. After that tiresome meeting with Milla, she really wished she'd done a few minutes of overtime at the office first before seeing her. Yet one way or another, the work had to be finished before her final consultation with the client in the morning. She set everything up on her desk, wiggled a little in her chair to get comfortable, then suddenly stood again to retrieve a small box from the shopping bag she'd left by the door. Sitting down again, she picked one of the sugar-coated treats from the tin and pushed it past her lips. She would have to remind herself to leave at least half of them for her colleagues to share at lunch as she had promised. Another minute and another sweet later, she got up once more to find a plate in the kitchen. Too easily had she unintentionally consumed entire buckets of treats before, while her mind was too preoccupied to stop her.

Settling back down, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was still forgetting something. She blinked, tapped a finger on the keyboard anxiously. She raked her brain, trying to recall every important moment of her day in reverse order. So much had happened and so deep was her fatigue by this point, that she had to convince herself first before accepting that this was still the very same day that she had set out from Elphaba's house. Her internal dispute became at once irrelevant, however, once the mental image of Elphaba's last note flashed somewhere in the back of her mind.

With a startled gasp, she bent down to root for it in her bag. She found it, but its crumpled state made her heart sink. She still remembered how curious and thrilled she'd been to find it by the door. For an instance, she felt like she had betrayed the note or Elphaba herself by disregarding it. She straightened it out and immediately reached for her phone. Elphaba had not written or called, and Glinda doubted the note was hinting at anything of great urgency or import. It was Glinda's duty now though to contact her. She couldn't allow herself to let Elphaba chase after her without doing her own part.

She checked the time. It was nearly eight o'clock. Elphaba wouldn't hold it against her that she hadn't called earlier, would she?

"Hey, how are you doing?"

Glinda was almost rendered mute when she heard Elphaba's voice, couldn't remember looking up her contact or tapping the button to call.

"Uh, good… Yeah, good," she said as she put the phone to her ear, stumbling over her words.

"Are you sure? You sound stressed."

"No, not really." Glinda drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry I'm calling so late. Work just was… busy."

"That's fine," said Elphaba, and Glinda thought she could hear a smile. The image of Elphaba smiling warmly at her was soothing. "Well, at least I won't have to cancel on you," she continued.

"Cancel?"

That was confusing. Glinda couldn't even recall they had had any plans in the first place. How could something like this possibly have slipped her mind?

"I was going to invite you over or out or something, but as it turns out, I'm going away to a conference tomorrow. Avaric's PA has fallen ill, and apparently, I'm the next best thing."

"Oh," Glinda replied, feeling almost as disappointed as though she'd been looking forward to seeing Elphaba for several weeks.

"You'll be okay, right?" Elphaba asked with an intensity that betrayed at least some degree of concern.

Glinda nodded at first, then felt incredibly stupid.

"Yeah. Don't you worry about me." Her voice was a little thick, and she had to cough first before going on. "I'm much better already. How-; How long will you be gone?"

"The rest of the week with Avaric and-" There was a pause. "I thought I should see my father. And Nessa. The conference is quite close to where they are staying at the moment. So, in short, I'll be back early next week. But with quite some work to catch up on, I suppose."

It occurred to Glinda that this would be the longest period of separation since their first informal date – barely shorter than their brief friendship. This realisation fascinated her. How had it happened, and how absurd was it that she had become so dependant on a person she had not known properly before the beginning of this very month? And why, in the same sense, did it feel like time was playing a trick on her; for her emotional closeness to this person could have convinced her easily that she must have known Elphaba for a lifetime.

"Do you?" Elphaba's words finally registered in her head again, but still sounded muffled and made no sense.

"Sorry, I was just thinking something," she apologised. "Do I what?"

"Want to come over next weekend," Elphaba repeated patiently. "You can come Friday night already, if you want and stay until Sunday."

"Yes, I'd like that." Cringing at her own eagerness, Glinda cleared her throat again. "Do you… do you usually have friends over that often? Like overnight? I haven't seen many other guests whenever I stayed."

There was a laugh from the other end of the line.

"Are you worried?"

Worried? Worried about what?

"No, of course not."

"So, it's settled then."

Glinda nodded again.

"And one last thing."

Elphaba's voice had changed now, sounding firmer, almost demanding, and Glinda grew a tad uneasy.

"I want you to call your friend," she continued after a strangely long silence, almost as if she'd taken a moment to reassess her intended message, its effect on Glinda or her right to say anything in the first place. But once her decision had apparently been made, she did not waver again. "Consider it your homework for when we next see each other. You may think I'm out of line for asking this of you, and it quite likely may be so, but trust me on this."

Glinda's breath came in shallow gasps, her heart beating wildly, almost painfully against her ribs. She'd been working hard the last few days to overcome her reignited identity insecurities, but the matter of Fiyero had been pushed to the far, far back of her mind and packed into a secure little box with an iron lock. Did Elphaba have the slightest clue how distressing this request – no – this demand would be to her? For a second, she resented her wholeheartedly, was furious and contemplated to simply stop knowing her. A certain impertinence had always been part of Elphaba's personality, and most of the time, Glinda had found it queerly endearing. Now, however, she found herself suddenly astonished how anyone could possibly be tolerant enough to suffer her friendship and associated antiques over an extended period.

"Glinda?"

Elphaba's tone had softened again and hearing the way she said her name, the thumping in her chest calmed.

"Yea, yes, I'm still here," she replied meekly.

The truth was that she absolutely didn't want to cut herself off from Elphaba. She didn't even want to quarrel with her or be angry. On the other hand, she didn't feel like pleasing her either right now, and so she simply declared that she'd give it some thought, that she'd come next Friday anyway, no matter whether she had or hadn't completed her task. After all, she was in the possession of the spare key and if Elphaba intended to keep her out, she'd have to exchange the lock or barricade the door.

Elphaba said little in response, sounded mildly frustrated.

"Call me if you need anything," she said despite it all. "Or text me, and I'll call you whenever I'm free."

After the call had ended, Glinda sat for a moment, staring at the phone in her hands. She still didn't quite know how she felt about their conversation. Fiyero was none of Elphaba's business. He wasn't even a mutual friend of theirs, not even an acquaintance to Elphaba. But of course, Elphaba was mostly concerned about Glinda, about the friendship she might lose or damage. For Glinda's sake, not so much Fiyero's. Friends often take interests and meddle with each other's affairs, she supposed. Because they care. Lines would probably always be blurred where lives, feelings and worries overleap. How far beyond that blurred boundary Elphaba had shot in an attempt to help her was something she'd have to establish later, with some more distance to the whole situation.

She'd barely put away her phone, when it vibrated in three short bursts.

'You don't need to tell him anything about that incident last weekend or if you do, you don't have to say anything about mentioning him.'

'But call him.'

'Please.'

Shaking her head, she groaned. Yet even as she did so, a small, affectionate smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.