A/N: Just a drabble I thought up, mostly to pass the time before I had to go to sleep. And don't worry, IE will be updated tomorrow! I was camping for the week, hence the billion years between updates. Sorry! Anyway, I bring to you:

Juxtaposition

She wasn't particularly kind. Nor was she particularly tactful, or caring. She came and went as she pleased, often leaving utter destruction and heartbreak in her wake.

None of that seemed to matter, however, whenever she smiled, or whenever she crawled into Glinda's bed and held her when fierce storms raged beyond the window.

Her eyes could be so cold, and they stared into Glinda's soul, past the masks. How easily she saw through her, and so easily she accepted her for all of her sides, good and bad. How could one so mean be so tender?

How hard she tried to be sweet, when they would lay in Glinda's bed, her deep violet lips brushing against the shell of Glinda's ear as she whispered words of comfort and love.

"Elphie, what do you think about when you sit there?"

"How much I wish I could give you."

"You give me plenty."

"How much I wish I could make you happy."

"Aren't I smiling?"

"How much I wish you were mine."

"I'm yours."

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Glinda was flighty, and occasionally cruel. Not that she knew it, of course. She was often slow, taking so long to respond to intellectual pleas.

All of this was made worth it when Elphaba would catch her dancing, humming an upbeat Gillikin waltz. The gratitude in her eyes when Elphaba explained the classwork to her in soft, patient tones, her green figure mysterious and macabre in the fitful flicker of the candlelight.

How could a door have such an effect on a person? Beyond the door, stiff, cruel, so eager to play the shallow social leech everyone expected her to be.

So quick to ignore Elphaba whenever she'd walk into the classroom, so quick to make venomous remarks to the porcelain doll faces that surrounded her.

Behind the door, adoring, almost worshipping. She liked it when Elphaba held her, liked the sharp angles pressing into her own soft curves.

The way her black, empty eyes would go so wide, then squeeze shut so tight whenever Glinda would kiss her. The skin was softer than it looked, velvet green fields to explore with soft snow hands.

"Glinda, why do you cry so at night?"

"I wish you loved me."

"I love you."

"I wish I mattered to you."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"I wish you were real."

And for once, Elphaba could find nothing to say.

Fin