He was getting tired of the déjà vu. Once again, life found him running along the platform toward the Emerald City-bound train, a bouquet of red poppies in his hand and a grip of nervous energy leaving scrappy, disjointed thoughts raging around his skull. He was running late, of course, the reason why burning within him hot and wild— that witch! The nerve of her!
He had woken up in his bed that morning extremely comfortable. Calm. He felt like warm wax against his soft mattress, totally relaxed in a way he had not felt in years; his blanket was perfectly snug around him, undisturbed as it normally would have been by his thrashing legs from uneasy sleep. He didn't remember dreaming. He always seemed to lately, and in his sleepy stupor he had explored the edges of subconsciousness, testing it for any residue of a dream…
He suddenly sat up, cursing in a way that would have made Galinda faint, as memories slammed upon him with lucidity—Elphaba in this dorm room with him, Elphaba blowing magic dust into his face, Elphaba leaving today. He fumbled for his alarm clock, which was knocked over the day before at some point and held it in front of him as his blurry vision tried to catch up with his rapidly clearing mind.
Swearing at the time, he had leapt from his bed and rushed out of his room to take a shower and shave. He really needed the attention of a barber, he knew, nicking himself with his blade as he hurried. Thanks to the effectiveness of Elphaba's unwanted spell, if he wanted to make it in time to see her off, he barely had time to pee, let alone get a haircut.
Despite his hurry, he was compelled to halt in his haste just after grabbing a handsome outfit from his wardrobe, one clean and pressed to compensate for yesterday's roughened appearance. A flash of color on his desk had caught his eye and that was when he first noticed a bottle of orange juice that the midmorning light caught just right so it glowed and a paper bag from a bakery, which he discovered had his favorite apricot scones in them. He picked up the juice, noticing the ring of condensation it left on the desk and the beads of water that moistened his skin. It had been there for a while, but it was still cooler than the room. It had been brought in the last couple of hours while he still slept. He looked around, hoping for a note, particularly one that would have an apology on it, but nothing.
It had made him self-conscious, thinking of her in his room while he was dead to the world. She had put her spell on him when he was fully dressed, yet he woke up with his boots aside and his suspenders draped across the frame at the foot of his bed. Why did she even bother? A memory surfaced: In order to pester her, he had once griped to her in a lecture about how uncomfortable the buckles of suspenders were when one was trying to nap. Had she actually listened?
Oz dammit, she wasn't even there and she was driving him mad. Elphaba Thropp, the green goddess of his fantasies, had been undressing him in bed and he was asleep for the whole thing. The best he could do was only imagine how it must have felt to have her hands at his waist, unfastening the clasps there…
He gripped the bouquet in his fist angrily, feeling the burn of embarrassment once the lustful thoughts faded. She had tucked him into his bed like he was a child after duping – nay, doping – him against his will. Why did she have to make everything so difficult? He couldn't even just be angry with her, because she had brought him breakfast, which inflamed his frustration more.
"Fiyero, over here dearest! My goodness, you're certainly looking better!"
Galinda and Elphaba were exactly where they had been the last time the three of them were together on this platform years before: Galinda, her hair straight and shiny with her stylish outfit sticking out from the haze emitted from the nearby steam engine; and Elphaba, green and beautiful and infuriating, in the expensive white jacket Galinda had given to her just before Dillamond's dismissal that just didn't quite suit her.
As he approached and the features of Elphaba's face became clear, he refused to think back upon the night before. He wouldn't remember the warmth of her, her compassionate touch, the fleeting tender gaze down at him as he held himself against her…
Instead, he thought about how just a minute later she blew magic tranquilizer dust in his face against his very vocal objections.
Fiyero threw out the flowers into Elphaba's green hands with such force that a couple of the paper-thin petals fell from the buds. "Here."
"Oh Fiyero, how sweet of you!"
"Of course you got me poppies," Elphaba snapped, shoving the flowers into his chest.
"What is that supposed to mean?" he said, offended, pushing them back at her, but she just swatted him with them.
"I can't believe you would use them to manipulate me!"
"Elphie dear, they're just flowers—"
Fiyero batted the bouquet away angrily, forcing a few more petals to be jostled loose, as they both ignored Galinda's attempt to placate them. "Manipulate you?" he repeated in complete indignation.
"I'm done letting you use what you know against me, trying to charm me—"
"What in Oz are you even going on about?" he snapped.
"You obviously had known that I liked them and now—"
"You like poppies?" he asked, genuinely taken aback.
"Drop the con—"
"There is no con!"
"Then why did you get poppies, of all things?"
"I don't know!" he said honestly, feeling flustered at the question. "I got them last time but you didn't say anything about it! Everything else was so ostentatious so I just… I don't know! I just got them!" He huffed bad-temperedly. "Will you just take the damn things already?"
"Fine," she bit back.
"Fine!"
Fiyero was heaving heavy breaths, his head angled down at her while she had her chin held up and her jaw clenched in defiance of him. They were closer, somehow, than they had been before, and had Fiyero wanted to he could have reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders.
Whether that was to shake her furiously or kiss her passionately he truly didn't know.
"What is the matter with you two, fighting out in public like this?" Galinda cried out, scandalized.
"Ask her," Fiyero said, jabbing a finger at the green girl crossly. "She's the one who magicked me!"
Elphaba scoffed, the abused poppies whipping through the air as threw her hands up in vexation. "That's because you were an unstable, raving headcase! What else would you have me do?"
"Not drug me against my will!"
"Oh Elphie, you didn't!"
"Oh she did!" Fiyero confirmed resentfully.
"Don't act so self-righteous—"
"If it isn't the cauldron calling the kettle black—"
"My, what a witticism! I bet you're proud of yourself for that one—"
A piercing whistle cut through the air, startling them both from their spat. Galinda's cheeks were pink with frustration as she lowered her fingers from her pouty lips and tossed her hair haughtily. "My Oz, will both of you control yourselves for a clock-tick? This is so unbecoming! Elphaba, what is this about?"
"I may have cast a mild sleeping spell— totally harmless."
"Harmless? It was done without my consent—"
"That doesn't negate the fact that it was clearly necessary. And it worked, didn't it?"
"That's beside the point!"
"Hardly!"
"It was a violation—"
"Don't even start on violations…!"
"Oh Nessa, thank goodness you're here," Galinda said with an audible sigh of relief. The sound of Nessarose's name was enough to make both her sister and the prince bite their tongues. With one last scowl from under her dark brows, Elphaba twisted around to greet her sister, who of course was accompanied by Boq.
"Elphaba, I'm so proud of you and I know Father would be too." Fiyero didn't bother to disguise his scoff at the ridiculous remark from the future governess. Elphaba shot a dirty look over her shoulder while Galinda swatted him in the arm with her petite hand. "We are all proud, aren't we?" Nessa asked her escort, who didn't seem to be paying her mind.
"You'll be all right, won't you?" Elphaba asked her sister, concerned.
"She'll be fine," Galinda insisted. "Bick will take care of her, right?"
"It's Boq!" the Munchkin sharply shouted at the blonde, whose eyes widened in astonishment. "I only asked for friendship and still you don't even know who I am! I can't do this anymore!"
And with that, Boq stormed down the platform, not even bothering to dodge the nearby commuters as they prepared to board the train. But because of his small stature, he merely bounced off them, really ruining the effect of his outburst in Fiyero's opinion.
"What is the matter with everyone today?" Galinda wondered incredulously.
"Boq!" Nessarose called, beginning to wheel after the Munchkin. She wouldn't have been able to catch him in her chair though, and she spun back with misery creasing her features.
"Will I ever be the one who has his heart?" Nessarose asked, her eyes shining. "Will I ever deserve him?"
"You more than deserve him," Elphaba insisted. "It is he who isn't deserving of you."
"Dearest, you must understand: Boys are terribly stupid," Galinda said to her, to which Fiyero scowled but said nothing.
"Galinda, I know you're just trying to make me feel better…"
"You're quite right about that!" Galinda said stubbornly and cheerily, incontestably in defiance of everyone's foul moods. "Do you know what I think, Nessa? I think we ought to have a girls' weekend, just you and me."
"What do you have in mind?" Elphaba asked skeptically.
"Perhaps you'd enjoy a sleepover?" Galinda asked down to Nessarose. "I do have an extra bed this weekend after all!"
"A sleepover?" Nessa questioned, glancing at her sister as if for translation. "What does that involve?"
"Ooh, your very first sleepover!" Galinda said gleefully. "We can stay up all night and tell each other secrets and play dress-up! Oh, we would have so much fun."
"If you insist so."
"Are you sure you're all right Nessa?" Elphaba asked worriedly.
"Elphaba, just go. I'll be fine," Nessa said, sullenly rolling herself away.
"Nessa, wait!"
"Let her go. She'll have to manage without you. We all will."
"You'll barely notice I'm gone," Elphaba insisted.
"Fiddlesticks!" Galinda disagreed, throwing her arms around her best friend. She gave Elphaba an extra tight squeeze before letting her go so she could look at her, hands lingering on the sleeves of the green girl's coat. "We are both so happy for you, aren't we Fiyero?"
Fiyero couldn't make himself smile as he and Elphaba stared at one another, not even for Galinda's sake, but still he murmured, "So happy."
"Convincing," Elphaba deadpanned.
"So now you want me to lie?"
"The fact that I'm craving the company of morose little Nessarose over that of you two should tell you something," Glinda said, almost grumpily, but after a little huff she put on her resilient smile and hugged Elphaba again. "Oh Elphie, I hope you have the greatest time! Now, remember: eye contact! And don't forget to tell him how wonderful he is, wizards love that! And be yourself…well…within reason." The train whistle sounded, reminding them of the need to hasten their goodbyes. "Oh Elphie, hurry along before I get teary and my mascara runs."
"Take care, Galinda."
"'Ta, Fiyero," she said as she departed, leaving the prince and the green girl alone on the humid platform.
Fiyero watched the blonde follow Nessa off the platform with disorientation and he murmured, "You're supposed to take her with you."
"I'm not supposed to do anything," Elphaba snapped, defiant.
He didn't bother refuting her.
The volume of the rumbling of the train next to them amplified with no one else there to distract from it; the reality of this moment hit him as if he were on the tracks and the steam engine bowled him over: She was leaving. She would climb aboard this train and be gone, likely lost to a fate he hadn't done enough to control. There was so much he hadn't told her! And with only minutes until the train left the station for the Emerald City, what truths remained that were most deserving to fill this unpleasant tension between them? What words were enough at this crucial moment?
It didn't help that this was as far as his first-hand experience went regarding her, at least until he found her in the Wizard's throne room years from now. It made him feel powerless. At least until now, he felt like he had some measure of control, but now he would have to watch her board that train and leave to face her future absolutely alone.
How could he have failed so miserably?
And what of him? He knew he would probably linger on this platform long after the locomotive vanished over the horizon, unmotivated to do anything else. His momentum was nearing its end and he had no true plans for anything beyond this moment, for this was the moment, the final page of the book. And though he knew of the sequel, it was as if someone had told him how the story would go but still he hoped that when he came to read it the story would go differently. But that was a book he hadn't yet purchased for he had been so focused on the pages in front of him.
And what a bitter ending it had.
It was bleaker than he had anticipated; at least Galinda's company in the Emerald City was a golden lining on what was otherwise miserable stormy skies. But now Elphaba would be going alone, her heart subject to the Wizard and Morrible's conniving without even the slightest possibility of good sense to damper her temper. Had the only change he had made was to stack the deck against her?
Would her good nature and offense to his warnings open her up more to the Wizard in an attempt to prove herself right, exposing her heart to even more agonizing betrayal?
Would not having Galinda as a distraction lead to her capture right then and there?
Could it be possible that she would let herself be manipulated to compensate for the pain Fiyero caused her? Or as an attempt to outmaneuver those that would aim to deceive her? That would be a dangerous play and one for which Elphaba was too honest, passionate, and true to be able to see through on her own, no matter how brilliant she was.
She never did get the handle on chess.
Every reassurance he gave himself the last couple of weeks that he prepared her enough was apparent to be a delusion. Gone was every confidence in his choices.
An apology didn't seem like enough, so he said nothing and she said nothing.
Her eyes were tired, he saw, as she glanced at the clock on the platform. Without a word, she picked up her suitcase and made her way to the nearest train door.
Fiyero longed for the bottom of a whiskey bottle and he turned, his boots sliding heavily against the wood as he did so, knowing whatever barstool at which he found himself would very likely be his home until news from the Emerald City, of a turbulent girl with skin of green, found him.
"Fiyero!"
He spun at her voice, finding her hanging from the handle in the doorway, waiting.
"Well? Are you coming?"