Drabble Five
Elphaba did love Fiyero, in her own way. She was genuinely glad to see him, glad to have someone to break her constant chain of loneliness.
She let him put his hands on her, for he was familiar, at at least tender. She could pretend the hands roaming her body were smaller, and ivory white, soft. She could pretend the body above hers was pale, feminine, with golden hair trailing down the sides of her head to rest on the pillow beside Elphaba's head.
At least during all of this, she could turn her head to the window and see the stars gleaming in brightly. She could be comforted by the thought that, miles and miles away, Glinda would be on her terrace, gazing at the same exact stars, as she had promised.
Elphaba continued pretending all of this, placating her inwardly sobbing mind.
She could also pretend it was alright when the name she cried out into the brown, muscular shoulder was Glinda's.