|Unexpected, To Say The Least
Author: Sheblet PM
"You can't bring yourself to hate Elphaba Thropp any longer." Galinda and Elphaba become friends, and Elphaba finally learns to open up to someone. And somewhere amongst the chaos, they fall in love. It's all quite unexpected, to say the least.Rated: Fiction K - English - Friendship/Hurt/Comfort - Elphaba T. & Glinda U. - Chapters: 5 - Words: 4,155 - Reviews: 13 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 15 - Updated: 06-13-12 - Published: 03-08-12 - id: 7907722
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Elphaba Thropp is bent.
Not broken; broken is too definite; it implies permanent damage. If something is bent, you can straighten it back out. A bent heart is not nearly as impossible and hopeless as a broken one; it can be fixed. In theory, anyway.
In reality, the theory does not apply.
"Just tell me what the nightmares are about, Elphie! I just got done telling you the deep, dark enigmas of my own past; it's your turn!"
Elphaba scoffs. "Telling me about the scandalicious account of how you once kissed a boy without your parents' blessing, at a party you attended without consulting them, is hardly revealing the deep dark truths of your past, Galinda."
You put on your best hurt pout. "But it was a dark secret! Momsie and Popsicle would have been so upset, had they known-"
You're startled when Elphaba bristles suddenly. "You don't get it, do you?" she snaps, and you feel your hackles rising in defense.
"Why are you yelling at me, Elphie?" You demand, just the slightest bit enraged. It may or may not be…. That time of the month, and you're feeling rather short-fused.
"In your world, everything is butterflies and rainbows. Your worst fear is breaking a nail. You're frivolous, Galinda."
You're already upset, and maybe just a bit hormonal, and you don't know what frivolous means but it holds a negative connotation that only serves to boil your blood further. So you can't really hold yourself accountable for what you shout next.
"W-well, at least I'm not green!"
You regret the words an instant after they're out of your mouth.
Elphaba calms almost immediately. There is a flash of hurt, a short sparking image of bent soul, before she becomes suddenly emotionless. "No, Miss Galinda, you're not," she agrees quietly, and the formality smarts a bit, "How lucky for you."
And she's gone so swiftly you hardly see her leave.
You feel incredibly stupid, which seems to be a trend for you. You sit on Elphaba's bed and cry a little, feeling trapped and unsure of what to do. You know how sensitive Elphie is about her skin, making what you said ten times worse than it might have been, originally. You feel shame greater than anything you've ever known – real shame, not the kind you experience over attending a party you're not supposed to. That brand of shame is shallow – this is something more.
This is the shame borne from hurting another human being.
And you have to make it right – not just for yourself, obviously, but for Elphaba as well.
You don't have to look far to find her – in fact you don't have to look at all. She sits directly outside the door, back pressed to the wall, knees drawn up, face buried in folded arms. She is so still and so silent that for a moment you believe her to be asleep. But then she looks up at you, and you are entirely captivated by that bent look in her eyes.
Elphaba Thropp's emotions are bent towards self-loathing, and it's time you straightened her out.
"I'm sorr-" she starts to say.
"My family is made entirely of scholars," you interrupt her, and her mouth snaps shut and for a moment she just looks at you.
"I-what?" She can hardly respond.
"My family," you repeat, and you take a seat beside her. "All geniuses. All college graduates. They all expect me to do great things – to become a politician, a public figure. But I can barely keep afloat in my classes, let alone run a county or a country. If I don't pass my classes, I'll be the first Upland to not graduate from college. That's a lot of pressure. I feel like a failure, a lot of the time."
Elphaba's eyes are soft in their gaze, and she takes your hand as you use the other to wipe an errant tear. "There," you say, "you know one of my deep, dark fears. You don't have to tell me yours now, but I'd like you to… someday."
It seems that Elphaba will not tell you now, but her eyes say that she's working on it, that you'll find out soon enough what plaques her nights so. Until then, you will comfort her without question. Because whether you like it or not, you're bent too, and you believe that together you can change for the better. After all, bent things are much easier to fix than broken things (in theory, of course), and neither one of you is broken. Not yet.