It's been a while since I wrote anything. This came from nowhere, and is pure unadulterated Gelphie angst. Set after the Emerald City journey.
I own nothing.
Glinda was almost unrecognisable. There were little cracks in her forehead, lines of worry. Her face devoid, for once, of make-up, stared at the reflective glass of her vanity mirror and into her own eyes. Eyes that, free from lining and mascara, were not all that special. Her lips looked weak and thin without the colouring of lipstick. The frame of her jaw had lost some of its softness, the weeks of travelling to and from the Emerald City with minimal food having thinned it. The room was brightly lit, sharp white light stinging Glinda's eyes almost to the point of tears.
She sat on the cushioned seat of her dressing table's chair, staring blankly at her reflection, taking inventory of every part that had changed since she had left with Elphaba.
That flush of lust that had lit her cheeks even on the coldest nights of the journey-
That wary smile that had filled out her lips when Elphaba's back was turned-
That flash of rebellion and ecstasy that lived in her eyes when she thought of what they were doing, what they would still do-
It was all gone.
She reached over her shoulder and brought her long golden plait to her chest, undoing the bow that held it firm. Her locks spread across her bare chest and ran like waves above her skin. The curls reached her midriff and covered her breasts.
Glinda looked child-like with her hair down.
Elphaba and Glinda lay parallel in an uncomfortable bed which sunk in the middle and smelled of the sweat of its former inhabitants. The rattle of the train around them had kept the girls awake, Glinda sure that every lurch would send them off the track and into the storming night. Glinda rested with her back to Elphaba, her brown eyes fixed on the door of their compartment, sure that someone would burst in at any moment and demand to know what they were doing. Elphaba watched Glinda's back, drinking in the soft pallor of the blonde girl's skin as it shone in the deep black of the room. Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed Glinda's open shoulder.
Both girls went rigid in the sudden tense atmosphere. Neither spoke. Cautiously, Elphaba kissed her again. Glinda was suddenly brutally aware of how warm her face was, though she didn't think it was flushed from embarrassment. A fleeting terror crossed her mind- could Elphaba feel how warm her skin was?!- then dissipated as Elphaba lowered her lips again to Glinda's collarbone. She twisted her body slightly so that she was half-facing the green woman, who backed off immediately out of fear that she had crossed a line. But Glinda merely looked at her, mouth loose in what could have been either a grimace or the beginnings of a smile. Then she closed the gap between their lips.
There was knocking on the door of the dorm-room, the worried voice of Fiyero and Boq, along with the gravelly tones of Madame Morrible.
"Glinda? We're not angry. We just need to know what happened with you and Elph-" Fiyero was cut off by the frantic voice of Boq.
"Where is she? Why didn't she return with you? Glinda?!"
"Boys, get back to your campus please. This administration is perfectly capable of handling the situation."
Morrible sounded quietly enraged, a stern departure from her usual dramatic antics. Fiyero and Boq obviously heard her seriousness, as their calls soon disappeared down the hallway. Then there was silence, but Glinda knew that Morrible was just waiting for a distinctive enough threat at which to throw through the door to enter her head.
She turned again to the mirror, letting the sounds around her fall away and leave her with a numbing silence. She ran her fingers again through her hair, then traced the outline of her collarbone with the very tips of her fingers, pretending that it was Elphaba's touch against her skin. Then she let her hands drop limply into her naked lap, dull eyes scanning the surface of her table. A glint of silver caught her gaze, the sharp blade of Glinda's long sewing scissors gleaming on the edge of the vanity.
They were pressed up against each other now, Glinda's legs held firmly captive by Elphaba's bony ones. Elphaba had threaded her arm around the blonde girl, brushing her hand against the skin of Glinda's stomach. Their breathing was steady and heavy, and the already-small room seemed to have shrunk to claustrophobic proportions.
"Elphaba?" Glinda whispered, almost quiet enough to be mistaken for a breath.
Elphaba moved her head slightly in indication that she was listening.
"What are we doing here?"
Elphaba shook her head. "Don't. We can think about that tomorrow. For now, all I want to do is lie here beside you."
It shocked Glinda how sure Elphaba sounded. Her own senses seemed heighted threefold, from her racing heart to her vividly receptive skin.
Glinda felt Elphaba's fingers in her curls, wrapping the blonde bed-wrangled locks between her sharp fingers.
"This I love most." She said, stroking Glinda's head. "This beautiful halo of hair. This golden crown."
It was terrifying to hear Elphaba- Elphaba!- speak of things such as love. Cold, unreadable, impenetrable Elphaba Thropp; talking about her hair. Lovingly.
Glinda's hand itched for the scissors. She bit her lip for a moment, then reached for the handle. It felt icy to her touch, and heavier than expected. Suddenly there was an anger that coursed through her entire body. Anger at her parents, anger at Morrible, anger at herself; but mostly, she was irate- irate!- at Elphaba. Angry because all of the things she had professed those nights- Glinda's beauty, Glinda's worth, Glinda's uniqueness, Glinda's love- it had all meant nothing.
She pulled roughly at her long strains of hair, severing them messily with the silver blades, cutting each strand unevenly, watching them float to the dorm room floor though wet eyes, wishing, with every thin thread that fell, that Elphaba would feel even an eighth of what Glinda felt at that moment. She wished that for every hair that she cut, a thousand needles would pierce Elphaba's heart.
"Then," she gasped, throwing down the scissors and cradling her oddly light head in her hands, "then perhaps you would understand how I feel."
And Morrible knocked.