A/N - Sorry I've made you wait. I'm terrible, I know. It's just that I've been feeling increasingly terrible these last couple of…weeks, and so my writing (and reviewing (sorry 'bout that, I'll start again soon)) is kind of the last thing on my mind. Again, so sorry.

She'd rather chew on razorblades than speak the words she was longing to say. This had been a mistake. Everything had been a mistake. Elphaba lodged herself in a corner in her little providence, hoping to starve herself to death. How could she of been so stupid?

She decided against her suicide notion, however, for a more plausible one. After all, if it had been someone else who had been chosen, Fiyero would be dead as fast as you could say…say candy and razorblades. The diction seemed lucid enough in Elphaba's mind. Bittersweet.

But she had no idea what she was to do. Warn Fiyero? "Oh, that's bound to be effective. I'm the Wicked Witch, how are you, Fiyero? Oh that's good - I'm great, thanks for asking. Oh, what have I been up to? I've just got to kill you, is all. You might want to run." She snorted at her own acerbity, and the way she had backed herself into a corner. Literally. There was no where to turn, and no where to hide.

So what was she to do? She couldn't kill him. She wasn't really sure that she could kill anyone.

(weakling)

And it was times like these when Elphaba would just love to bash her subconscious over the head with a chair….even if it was right. Skyla was right, she realized. Fiyero didn't have shit on her. He had never done anything for her. There was nothing between them.

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'So no matter how shallow and self-absorbed you tend to be…'

'Excuse me, there's no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.'

'No you're not, or you wouldn't be so unhappy.'

Fiyero couldn't get that day with the Lion cub

(and elphaba)

Out of his head. He just couldn't figure out why.

(elphaba elphaba elphaba elphaba elphaba)

His subconscious was screaming at him now. "Sweet Oz, shut up, will you?"

"What was that, Dearest?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Glinda." What could he have said to her? 'I'm just thinking of your escapee best friend. You know, Elphie? The convict?' Of course, there was no way he could bring up Elphaba in front of Glinda; it was a sensitive spot for Glinda

(what isn't)

And Fiyero knew that Elphaba wasn't really a convict. He had suspicions that because Glinda had blabbed this to him that he got the position of Captain of the Guard. But it didn't matter. Fiyero never felt that he could tell Glinda anything that wired him up. Sometimes he had to ask himself whether he loved her or not.

Glinda shrugged and flounced back into her closet, tossing out a plentitude of clothing. "Now, what do you think I should wear for this…ceremonialification?" She picked up two dresses off of the floor, holding them to her. "The pink one," she said, indicating the pink dress on the right, "or the pink one?" She held out the pink dress on the left, and stared down at both of them, pinching her lips into a look of confuzzlement.

"Glinda-" started Fiyero, but was cut-off by the bubbly blonde.

"No. Stare at them for a minute before you choose! This is important!"

Fiyero started at the two rinky-dink dresses with false enthusiasm. "Glinda, they both look the same."

"Nu-huh! This one's pinker."

"Oh, sweet Oz. Erm, the one on the right," he said, not wishing to argue with Glinda any longer.

"Are you sure? I mean, I really think that this one is more formal. Don't you think?"

"Glinda, I don't think that the formalness of a dress is accentuated by the hotness of the pink. Really, the one on the right is fine. Really," he assured her again when she opened her mouth. "Either way, you'll look gorgeous."

"Oh, Fiyero, you're so sweet!" Glinda planted a quick kiss, gooey with lipstick, on Fiyero's face, then sashayed over to makeup drawer. "Now, about my makeup.."

"Glinda, please. You shouldn't worry about this stuff! You're beautiful! Nothing matters, it's just life!" Of course, Fiyero really never lived off of this theory, but for some odd reason, praised it. How deceptive of him.

Glinda shook her head. "No. Look, Fiyero, I've gotten a bag under my right eye. This is major!" Glinda frantically began searching for something.

Fiyero stared at her right eye with intense concentration. He saw nothing. Internally Fiyero shook his head. Glinda could stay up all night playing with her lotions and creams and the occasional syringe, and Fiyero couldn't say that he cared. It served her right if she got bags under her eyes. Wow, I'm sadistic tonight. Maybe it has to do with all of Glinda's pinkness and all that candy she forced me to eat at lunch. Never been too tolerant towards sugar…

"Fiyero are you alright? You spaced out."

"I'm fine. Just tired. Very tired."

"Then go to sleep," she replied, turning back to her mirror and beginning to tweeze her eyebrows. She was restless as Fiyero watched her, setting the tweezers down and picking up creams and tossing them to the side.

"I can't," replied Fiyero pointedly, nodding to the bottles that were falling to the floor.

"Oh, be quiet, Fiyero. I have to look beautiful for tomorrow."

"What is so important about tomorrow? You seem…on-edge. Cool it, Glinda. It's just-"

"Life. I know." She flushed when Fiyero bore his eyes into hers, searching for the complex answer that he knew she was harboring. After all, she wasn't all…well, he wasn't going to go there tonight. "Alright, just give me ten more minutes. Ten. That's all I ask." She gave him puppy-dog eyes.

Fiyero held back the urge to roll his eyes and nodded. "Fine. Ten is all. I'm tired. And whatever is happening tomorrow deserves me to be as well-rested as you. Don't you agree?"

She nodded, though without lenity. Glinda was good, though Fiyero disagreed with the title 'Glinda the Good' whole-heartedly, if it made any sense. Empathy made someone good, and Glinda had none. Or, at least, not mass amounts of it.

He shook his head. "I'm changing."

Glinda didn't even attempt to acknowledge that she had heard him. Fiyero shrugged it off as another disappointment in his life. This is no time to be feeling sorry for myself, something important is happening tomorrow! he mocked himself internally. Need my beauty sleep, as Glinda would so blatantly put it.

When Fiyero was alone in the room, he found that that day kept running through his mind. Elphaba, to be specific…..Despite her greeness, and characterization to vegetable as it was so candidly put by the students of Shiz, Fiyero thought she was…well, beautiful. He found that if he repeated the thoughts in his mind over and over again, he could think them unabashedly. Maybe Elphaba was wrong about him not being shallow.

"Fiyero!"

Had it been ten minutes? Did Elphaba's name really take up that much time to say? Or rather, thought? Shrugging, Fiyero pulled a shirt over his head, no use in thinking about it. He was only wasting time by doing so. Walking back into the room he had recently started sharing with Glinda, he walked to the basin and splashed his face with cold water.

"You still lookspacey, Fiyero. You sure you're alright?" asked Glinda, either faking empathy well, or not faking it at all.

Fiyero thought a moment. Could he tell her? Should he tell her? No, he decided, sliding into the cool, awaiting sheets. He'd rather chew on razorblades than speak the words he was longing to say.

Yea, please review, they'll make me feel better. Drat, can't threaten you with my chair this time. Both are being borrowed…..