For Eva Palez and everyone else still with this. I missed you all.
For so long whenever Fiyero climbed upon the rooftop of his dormitory, free from the time capsule his room represented, he felt like he was bursting at the seams. He couldn't articulate precisely why, not that anyone would ask him. Perhaps it was from all the secrets that he carried, from his knowledge of the future to his emotions regarding Elphaba. Maybe it was feeling trapped back in this period, bound to this setting, unable to escape, limited in options of getaway by his unwavering devotion.
He didn't burst like he thought he eventually would, whatever it would entail; there was no relief from the build-up of misery, unrequited love, and unwanted information. He found an opportunity to tell Elphaba the truth but the pressurized quality he carried for so long was replaced with the sensation of having everything within him melting to the bottom of him like liquid lead, sloshing around with an immense emptiness sitting on top of it. Instead of release, he now had a pulling vacuum in his chest on top of that emotional mass.
He should have been glad. It was out in the world. He had looked Elphaba in the eye and told her how he felt. And what did he get for it? Nothing, except everyone but Elphaba wanting to talk to him about it.
It had been strange enough admitting his devotion to Galinda, his father, and Dillamond, but now that it was no longer a secret it was the talk of anyone at school who cared. It didn't help that with it out in the open, Galinda was now in a position in which she could gossip about it, and so it was like dousing a fire with gasoline. He had never dealt with his relationship with Elphaba with other people before, but suddenly folks all over the Oz-damn place were clearly questioning him and his sanity, including random students he didn't even know, if the whispers and stares were any indication. He didn't linger anywhere public long enough to allow direct exposure of their opinions or discrimination.
This was a prestigious university, not some secondary school in Gillikin in which who liked whom and who kissed whom was true excitement; or even the Emerald City gossip rags that had pages and pages of ink spilling out junk about pretty, rich people's personal lives; but that didn't stop his interest in Elphaba from being the equivalent of front-page news. He, a reputable playboy prince, had turned away dozens of girls and even a couple of guys over the course of his semester at Shiz and by being hard-to-get he had bolstered his rep as being highly desirable; despite his lack of interest and attention, by his good looks and royal title alone he was already a tremendously popular fellow. And he wanted the one girl who was easily the least-liked girl on campus – Galinda's friendship with Elphaba didn't change her unsightly skin color or her cantankerous attitude – so naturally people were horrified by this new development.
Didn't they have anything better to do, like perhaps focus on the first-rate education they came to Shiz for in the first place?
Yes, these people were full-grown adults but after growing up in a royal castle and living with Emerald City's elite he had learned that age and eminence didn't make an ounce of difference in one's maturity. He often wondered if his jadedness to the pettiness of others is something that drew Elphaba to him so much to begin with. He had trained himself to not care about anything to counter the niggling, paltry, mean-spirited uselessness of which everyone in his life took such pride in and built up around themselves, and out of nowhere came this unique and passionate girl who was completely unlike everything he had come to resent most.
Fiyero was grateful to have business off-campus on weekends that freed him from the sensation of attention. Monday seemed torturous as he made for his first class. Walking through campus during class hours felt like treading through a bog full of gnats, and despite his efforts to ignore the sensation and the buzzing that seemed to encompass him, the stares still left him feeling inflamed and irritated like they left bites in his skin.
He didn't even know if that many people even paid him mind. The stressed-out mind is a peculiar creature and paranoia is rarely rational. It was enough to feel as though they did.
And yet he persisted, his head high, his glare firm, inspired by a girl he once saw enter a formal party with a ridiculous pointed hat on her head. And with a confidence that was merely pretense – why he bothered with pretense around her, he couldn't tell you – he walked up to her desk on Monday morning and put a paper cup of mineral tea down on its surface with a louder clap than normal.
Elphaba said his name on a heavy outbreath, looking up at him with a frayed expression. She really did look tired. Her hair was pulled back into an imperfect, messy twist at her neck, she wore none of the cosmetics that she had been experimenting with previously, and her shoulders were slumped with a gravity likely born of an overload of neurotic thoughts and obsessive studying, if he knew her at all.
He felt a pang of sympathy, but he was also angry, which, for the moment, superseded that compassion.
He gestured to the cup. "It was my turn." He stared defiantly down at her, in pure challenge. He had his own small brown cup in hand, but he hadn't taken a sip of his coffee since he got it, too focused on delivering hers out of determination and virtuousness and maybe a little out of spite.
"No thank you," she said quietly, but without heavy conviction.
"Too bad, it's yours." He usually felt charged by her eye contact, but this sorrow in her unshakable gaze canceled that out. How could hollowness hurt so much? "Nothing has changed for me." They never had a conversation quite like this, let alone in public. The amount of subtext given to that stupid disposable cup of tea wasn't subtle, but it wasn't supposed to be. "And I'll keep bringing you tea every Monday, even if you don't."
"What about what I want?"
"I don't know what you want," Fiyero replied hotly, giving an exaggerated shrug, "so I don't know what you expect me to do. You could tell me, but that would involve you talking to me."
"And do you really think now is the time for that?"
The way her eyes flashed behind him, Fiyero became more sensitive to the audience that was starting to accumulate now that students were funneling in the classroom door in the minutes before class started. She wasn't one to be embarrassed for herself typically, but then again, she had never been the subject of romantic interest in a public scandal. He wondered if she was the recipient of social abuse due to this; it wasn't such a stretch to imagine that she was assailed by the same figurative gnats as he was, and perhaps because she was an easier target she was also subject to the occasional stings of direct verbal harassment from which his royal title protected him.
"No," he said truthfully, his sigh physically deflating. "No, I don't. I just wanted you to have your tea."
It was bittersweet torture, this eye contact that they shared, especially when something about her softened in response. Fiyero realized he was in denial to think that what he was feeling was close to emptiness around her. Ineffability, more like.
Being in love was the worst.
The teacher had already begun droning on the board behind him, oblivious to their interaction, scribbling review notes on the board. Fiyero was grateful he hadn't mixed up days for the final exam in this class because not a spell in the Grimmerie could have made him stay in this classroom a moment longer, living in expectation for her to either drink the tea or not drink it. So, he left her there to do with the tea what she would.
It only seemed appropriate that he'd receive some karmic retribution for the disturbance he caused Elphaba, for the moment he fled the classroom was the moment that Avaric Tenmeadows would be in the hallway, taking his time getting to a separate class.
"Fiyero, bruv," he said, his wide white smile and hard gray eyes not exactly chummy as he sauntered over and slapped a heavy hand on Fiyero's shoulder. "I've been hoping to run into you!"
"What luck, you should play the lottery," Fiyero deadpanned, unwilling to give real effort to their usual raillery. He made to bypass Avaric but the larger man sidestepped, blocking his evasion.
"I'm dying to know, is it true?"
"Is what true?"
"You've had it off with the green girl!" Avaric praised, though the intonation of a sneer made his disgust shine through. "I mean, I wouldn't have risked catching whatever she's got, but I guess nookie is nookie."
Fiyero reminded himself this was Avaric's way: banal insults and ribbing; but that did nothing to quell the fury that practically burst within him.
"It's not like you didn't tell me your type! Tall, dark, 'pretty but not too pretty' –and what did you say about breasts? Small, just enough? I'll be honest, I didn't even notice she had breasts, but now I won't be able to unsee them."
"Avaric, don't," Fiyero ordered, but Avaric was on a roll.
"I'm just trying to understand! Maybe Winkies just have exotic tastes, if that's the word to describe something that looks like limp vegetation."
"Stop talking."
"She must be a pretty wild shag, but noisy I'm sure. How do you get her to shut up when you shtup her? Gag her?"
Before he was aware of himself, Fiyero had lunged at Avaric, gripping his expensive collar with enough strength to rip it and moving to punch him harder than he'd ever hit someone in his life, but in his fury he had forgotten about the coffee cup he still had clutched in his hand until it exploded with blistering liquid in his clenching fist. The shock of pain was enough to get him to stumble away from Avaric, who rocked back in shock at the sudden intensity and spray of hot coffee.
Fiyero shook out the hand that was still wet and steaming, raging. "Don't you dare talk about her like that again! Or—or I'll…" He couldn't think to finish the threat, groaning at the pain and cradling his hand against himself. He knew the burn wasn't bad enough to need medical attention but that didn't mean it didn't utterly smart.
Avaric seemed flabbergasted, looking down at his stretched shirt and the dots of liquid that harmlessly splattered against it. "Fiyero, man, I didn't know. I didn't know."
"And why would I tell you? Why would I give an Oz-damn about your opinion when you're such an ass?"
Avaric, unexpectedly shamefaced, just stood there as Fiyero physically shoved him and stormed off to his dorm to lick his emotional wounds and dig some aloe from the bottom of his trunk for his physical one.
Hours later, Fiyero's anger had passed but not his sorrow.
"This is the strangest thing I've ever seen in my life."
Fiyero peered up glumly from his pot roast dinner only to realize Tibbett and Crope were gaping at him with theatrical exaggeration. "What?"
"You're not eating."
"We've been watching you push around your food for five minutes straight. No really, I've been keeping track." Crope checked his watch. "Six minutes."
"I'm just not feeling well," Fiyero said, nudging peas with his fork.
"Lovesick, we've heard."
Fiyero looked up from his plate with a glare, but he didn't have the energy to really commit to it. "Piss off."
"We'll take that as confirmation."
"Multiple reports have come to us that you're thirsting after a certain girl of grassy complexion, but we denied them on the grounds that there was no way our esteemed pal Fiyero Tiggular would neglect to tell us of such a thing."
"After all, Elphaba is our friend too."
"And if anyone would be supportive of such a fancy, it would be Fiyero's best boy-lovin' boys."
"No offense was meant. It's just…a private thing for me."
"Apparently it's a public thing too."
"Did you really sock Avaric Tenmeadows in the middle of lecture?"
"No," Fiyero muttered, not proud. "Well, not quite."
"I heard you had him pinned up against the wall by his neck."
"I heard you threw hot coffee in his face."
"I heard that-"
"Will you stop?" Fiyero asked, annoyed. "None of it happened like that. I didn't actually hit him."
"Then what actually happened?"
He flexed his dominant hand, the skin of which was still a bit pink and sensitive from the hot coffee earlier in the day. "Can we just not do the whole scuttlebutt thing tonight? Please?"
"But the Elphaba part is true."
Crope's question was asked with enough earnestness that Fiyero couldn't tell him to piss off again. Fiyero had already all but confirmed it, so he just nodded, not really looking at them.
Part of the fun of Tibbett and Crope was that Fiyero never really knew what they'd say or think, and for once it was a disadvantage. Fiyero peered up at his mates to see them staring at him, all normal playfulness gone from their demeanor. He could see a million questions behind their eyes; at least they were being respectful of his request for no gossipmongering, but their steely silence was almost as unbearable as their nattering.
Bracing himself, Fiyero indulged dully, "We kissed, once. It wasn't bad. We argued, which was bad. And that's pretty much it." Well, it was it as much as it was to say that Elphaba was just green, so an atrocious oversimplification.
"That doesn't tell us anything," Crope said, stating the obvious. "Help us understand. You snogged, but was it unanticipated? Deliberate? Accidental?"
"Are you asking had it been designed? Like had I planned to make out with Elphaba Thropp at 4:52 in the afternoon at prearranged coordinates?"
"That sarcasm was awfully specific and now I'm questioning whether that was exactly what you did."
"It just happened; I don't know what you want me to tell you."
"He wants to know if you had preexisting feelings for her," Tibbett sassed, moodily.
"Fine. Yes."
"For how long?"
He frowned, withdrawn, knowing he couldn't put a time on it if he tried, since he came into this reality already long taken with Elphaba Thropp. They seemed to glean his meaning from his silence.
"So, for some indeterminate amount of time you've, what, admired her physically?" Tibbett said, his fake resentment of women coming through. "Please help me, I can't possibly imagine what anyone finds attractive in females and I'm finding it painful to speculate on your behalf."
"It's not just that."
"Then what are these feelings you have? Stirrings-in-your-private-parts kind of feelings? Or waxing-poetic kind of feelings?"
"Both, I guess. Look, you wanted me to kiss and tell and I kissed and told more than what is fair to her. Can't you leave this alone? I don't feel like trying to defend myself to you tonight."
"You don't get it," Crope said, his softer voice cut in. "If there was anyone who would understand what it's like to be shunned for who we love, it's us."
"And we love Elphaba too," Tibbett said. "Not like you do, obviously..."
"But we think she's brilliant."
"And unintentionally hilarious—"
"A little rough around the edges—"
"But honest-to-goodness deserving of you."
"And if you had just said something, we would have told you so a long time ago."
And it hit him as the detonation of coffee had this morning: Yes, they were butthurt that he didn't come to them in confidence but it wasn't because they felt like they missed out on shallow gossip, but because they genuinely cared about him and Elphaba.
Fiyero was so used to keeping things close to the chest the last few years that doing otherwise hadn't even registered as an option. He tried to make sense of this habit. Last time at Shiz, he was mum about his infatuation with the green girl. Sure, he was dating Galinda, but if he hadn't been, would he have been keen to share his crush on Elphaba with his acquaintances? Likely not. Firstly, he didn't make much time for these boys his last time through; he was a different guy then with different priorities. But secondly, he couldn't easily speak of Elphaba because she was so contentious and aberrant. He didn't care for or need other's judgments on her, so no sense opening that door.
It was an unanticipated relief to see their obvious sincerity about Elphaba. He supposed he never gave them enough credit. Thinking back on his interaction with Avaric earlier, he could tell more than ever the quality of people, and Tibbett and Crope, for all their silliness, were top shelf.
Did it mean he was ready or interested in talking about Elphaba with them? Oz no. But it was a surprising relief to know that if he wanted to, he could.
"Thank you for saying that."
Crope smiled warmly. "You're welcome."
"Now, let's start planning some matchmaking."
"Absolutely not," Fiyero said, trying to summon as much royal authority as he could as he pointed sternly at them. They just grinned – Tibbett winked – and Fiyero growled gruffly at their antics.
Just as they always knew their boundaries when teasing Boq about his love life, Crope and Tibbett changed the subject to a ridiculous story about getting caught doing nude kinesthetics at the side of the suicide canal. They had been "exercising" during the rowing team's practice hour when discovered by a security officer and a wild, naked chase took place: across the yard, through the vegetable gardens, up the trellises of star jasmine and through the open window of some sophomore girls' dormitory, where they lost the guard but were subject to getting hammered with pillows and shoes by the startled girls. The story ended with them wearing the young ladies' silken kimonos and having tea and cakes with them and some of their hallway neighbors who had come running at their earlier screams.
As he listened and reconsidered his cold dinner, Fiyero knew that while they were disappointed that he wasn't willing to open up, he was lucky to still have them around, even if it was just to make him smile when he otherwise didn't want to.