Chapter Text
London, 7:45 am.
Glinda felt the sun rays before actually seeing them, her curtains doing nothing to shield her from the light. She desperately needed to buy better ones.
Rolling to her side, fighting the urge to close her eyes again and fall back asleep, she reached for her phone.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Glinda all but jump out of the bed, the sheets tangled in her feet almost making her fall.
She was so late. So incredibly late.
She could oh so vividly picture the judgment on Dr. D’s face.
“Forgot to set the alarm again, I see.” He would say, and Glinda would simply have nothing to say it back, being at fault, because yes, she forgot to set her alarm again. Because she was out late drinking with Fiyero again, who did not need an alarm to wake up early, no matter how drunk he got the night before, and who did not wake her up as he promised.
She was so going to yell at him for that, but first, she needed to get ready.
There was no way in hell she would make it to Dr. D’s office by 8:00 am how she was supposed to, but she could still make it until 8:15, not everything was lost. She would just send him an email, telling him she would be 15 minutes late. It was fine.
Everything was fine. She just needed to be bathed, dressed and out of the door in less than 20 minutes.
She could do it. She had done it before.
Everything was fine.
Good morning, Dr. Dillamound.
I’m afraid I won’t make it to our meeting in time, seeing as I’m running a bit late. I apologized. But I’m already on my way, so I’ll be there shortly
Kind regards,
Glinda Upland, master’s student
Department of English and Art
Ozyard University
Morning, Miss Upland.
I’ll be waiting.
Dr. Dillamond, PhD
Professor of English
Head of the Department of English
Ozyard University
“I’m so gonna kill you.” Glinda said 15 minutes later to Fiyero, who was sitting on the couch, sipping on his coffee without a care in the world.
“Morning to you, too, beautiful. What’s wrong?”
“You were supposed to wake me up at 7, remember?” She said as opened the kitchen cabinets, looking for her favorite travel mug.
“Oh, but I tried.” Fiyero said, walking to her, reaching for the pink mug from the higher shelve above Glinda’s head. “But you told me your meeting was tomorrow and fall back asleep.” He said as he poured the coffee and closed the lid, handing the mug to her.
Oh.
“Well then, I’m so going to kill myself.” She grabbed her coat from the coat hanger, putting it on as she equilibrated her mug, phone, keys and purse from one hand to another with an ease that never failed to leave Fiyero impressed. “I gotta go, bye.”
“Meet me for lunch?” He asked as she made her way to the door. “Yeah, I’ll text you when I’m free.”
“Good luck!” He called as she left.
It was a ten to fifteen minute walk from their apartment to campus. Glinda, however, did not have ten minutes, let alone fifteen, but there is nothing quite like desperation to turn one into an Olympic athlete. And so, precisely seven minutes later, she was standing in front of Dr. D’s office.
So what if her lungs were practically jumping out of her chest? So what if she felt like fainting at any moment. What matter was that she was there.
A few needed breaths and two bigs sips of her coffee later, Glinda knocked on the door.
“Come in.” Dr. Dillamond called from inside the office.
“Morning, Dr. Dillamond.”
“Miss Upland. Good morning to you as well. Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”
So focused on getting there as fast as possible, Glinda forgot to be nervous. She forgot the reason she had decided to get drunk on a Wednesday. She forgot the email Dr. D had sent two days earlier, asking for a meeting “at her earliest convenience.”
To be fair, on its own, the request wasn’t strange. He was her advisor, after all, but they already had a standing meeting every two weeks, and Dr. D hated last-minute changes to his schedule.
Glinda had worked as his research assistant for a year and had been his advisee for another. She knew exactly how much he despised last-minute changes. So if whatever he needed to discuss couldn’t wait until their scheduled meeting the following week, she had reason to worry.
Which was why she had said yes when Fiyero, after patiently listening to her anxiety-induced intrusive thoughts - “He’s going to tell me my thesis is terrible.”, “He’s going to stop being my advisor because I’m so bad he’s embarrassed to be associated with me.”, “Fiyero, what if he’s been diagnosed with stage four cancer and is about to die and I’ll have to find a new advisor?” – suggested she needed a drink. Or five.
“We do?” she asked with a smile. Her very best attempt at hiding her nervousness.
“I do apologize for the enigmatic email, but I was simply too excited." Dr. D said. "I know how much of an influence Professor Thropp’s work has had on your thesis.”
Fuck.
“Yes.” Glinda said. “Her book is fascinating.”
“It is, indeed. You see, Elphaba has been away for the past year, having taken up a position as a visiting professor at Ozford. But I received word that she’s set to return to us next month.”
Glinda nodded, encouraging him to continue. She already knew this, but Dr. D just didn’t need to know she stalked Professor Thropp’s Instagram daily.
“She’s already back in town, though, and we met for coffee on Monday.”
Oz bless Dr. D. He was an amazing teacher and an even better advisor, but dear Oz, he took forever to get to the point.
“We got to talking, and your research came up. Elphaba was very interested in your approach to affective attachments in Ozian literature, and I couldn’t help but think what an incredible opportunity it would be to have her input on your work.”
“That’s when I had an idea.” he continued. “I discussed it briefly with Elphaba, and she seemed to think it was a wonderful opportunity as well.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Glinda said carefully. “I think I may have lost the thread. Do you mean sending her my work?”
“Oh! I thought I had mentioned that already. I sent it to her that very day. I do hope that’s all right with you.”
Faint. Glinda was going to faint.
“Of course.” she said quickly. “Absolutely. What did she think?”
“I’ll forward you her notes. She was very engaged with the project, and that’s when my idea fully came together.”
“What idea, exactly?”
Glinda felt unbearably slow, certain she was missing something obvious.
“Having her serve as your co-advisor, of course. What do you think?”
All the air left Glinda’s lungs at once. Dr. D was looking at her with such undisguised delight that it was almost unsettling. She had never seen him this excited.
Oz. She needed to say something. Anything.
“I think it would be wonderful.” she managed. “But are you sure Professor Thropp would have the time? Last I heard, she was finishing her second book, and now that she’s back at Ozyard, I imagine she has quite a lot on her plate.”
“Nonsense. I’ve already spoken with her. Of course, I wanted to confirm your interest first, but she was delighted by the idea.”
Oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
“Then yes.” Glinda said. “Absolutely. It would be an honor.”
“Excellent. I’ll send you her email and her notes on the draft I shared with her. I only ask that you arrange a meeting with her as soon as possible. Her comments are quite thorough, and while I agree with every point she raised, I believe it would be even more productive for the two of you to discuss them in person.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll email her.”
“Perfect. Now, one last thing I wanted to discuss. I have some last-minute travel coming up – it wasn’t planned – so I won’t be available next week. However, if you have time now, we could go over the latest version you sent me.”
“Yes.” Glinda said. “Let me just grab my notes.”
“Please do.” Dr. D replied, rising from his chair. “I’ll make some tea. Would you like a cup?”
“Thank you, but I’m still finishing my coffee.”
At that, Dr. D smiled.
“You Americans and your coffees.”
Once he turned toward the kettle he kept on the counter in his office, Glinda pulled out her phone and opened the chat with Fiyero.
I’m fucked, she typed, then sent.
Her phone vibrated a second later, but she deliberately ignored it, focusing instead on opening her laptop and pulling up her thesis file.
She tried her best to remember the questions she had for Dr. Dillamond. The ones she should have written down, but in anxiety-fueled state the night before she hadn’t, having only poorlying drafting them, but her mind kept circling back to one unavoidable thought: Elphaba Thropp.
How, on Oz's green earth, was she supposed to talk to that woman?
She’d been infatuated with her for what felt like forever and had never once worked up the courage to actually speak to her. Mostly because she’d never thought she’d have to.
Yes, her thesis was based on Elphaba’s book.
Yes, she’d secretly hoped Elphaba might be on her committee when the time came, but that would be different. Then, she would only have to listen – not talk.
The scent of peppermint and chamomile filled the room, pulling Glinda out of her spiraling thoughts and back to the task at hand.
Her questions for Dr. D.
Her thesis.
The fact that Elphaba fucking Thropp had already read it. And commented on it.
She was so fucked.
“So, Miss Upland.” Dr. D began, returning to his desk, “about the last section of Chapter Three – I was wondering whether it might work better if it were moved to the methodology chapter.”
Doing her very best to remember what the fuck he was talking about, Glinda turned her eyes back to the screen in front of her.
It was going to be a long morning.
2 hours later and her mug now empty, Glinda made her way out of Dr. D’s office, with a promised to “email Professor Thropp right away”.
Oh, how she loathed that man right now.
Her heartbeat had yet to go back to normal – she feared it never would – but it didn’t stop her from all but run to The Scarecrow, knowing Fiyero would be there, because he was always there.
Leave it to a rich boy who’d never needed a summer job to genuinely enjoy working as a barista.
The bell above the door rang loudly as Glinda stepped into the café, the sound cutting through the quiet, the place weirdly empty.
How odd that college students were actually attending their classes.
Glinda let the door swing shut behind her. The bell chimed once more, echoing faintly.
Fiyero emerged from the back room.
“We are closed for the d- Oh, it’s you”
“It’s me. I need coffee.”
“What happened?” he asked as he switched the espresso machine on, already grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.
“Why are you closed?” Glinda asked at the same time.
“Inventory day.” he said. “But seriously, what happened?”
“I’m fucked. That’s what happened.”
The machine hissed and groaned as steam rose, filling the café with warmth and noise. Glinda took a deed breath. “Dr. D wants me to have a co-advisor.”
“Okay.” he replied carefully. “And that’s bad because…?”
“Because he wants it to be Professor Thropp.”
Fiyero froze, then his expression shifted from pure shock to the most genuine laughter Glinda had ever heard.
“I’m so sorry for you.” he managed, between laughs.
But before Glinda could respond, the bell above the door rang again as Pfannee, Shenshen, and Boq walked in.
“Why is it closed?” Pfannee asked.
“Inventory day.” Fiyero and Glinda said in unison.
“But it’s open for us.” She added. “Cause I’m having a crisis.”
“Is that coffee?” Pfannee asked, just as Boq turned to Glinda.
“What happened?”
“Dr. D wants Elphaba Thropp to be her co-advisor.” Fiyero answered, doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement.
Would hurt him at least try to pretend to care for her sanity?
“Oh.” Shenshen said. “Professor Thropp.”
“Babe, are you okay?” Pfannee asked. Glinda almost believed he was genuinely concerned, but she could see the laughter forming in his eyes.
“I’m lost.” Boq said, confused. “Who is this Professor?”
“The love of Glinda’s life.” Shenshen replied.
“Her gay awakening.” Fiyero added at the same time.
“Fuck you.” Glinda snapped. “That is not true.”
“Oh, but it is." He said, then turned to Boq. "She’s the reason we broke up.” Fiyero said with a smile.
“Wait. What?”
“So..." Fiyero started, settling in far too comfortably on the chair next to Glinda's. “...It all started about three years ago, when our Glinda here saw a reasearh assistant position open in the English department. She applied. She got it, but as part of the program, she had to teach a few classes, and while going through Dr. Dillamond’s selected bibliography, she found Professor Thropp’s book.”
“Which had, like, four hundred pages.” Pfannee added.
“Four hundred eighty-five.” Glinda corrected automatically.
“Which she read in one day.” Fiyero went on. “Because ‘oh my Oz, Fiyero, she’s so smart’. And ‘how can someone’s writing be that beautiful?’ That’s where the obsession started.”
Glinda covered her face with her hands.
“And because she was obsessed, and because she’s Glinda, when the day came to teach the class, her presentation was so well received that Dr. D suggested she turn the topic into the final paper she was required to write for the RA program. Which, naturally, made the obsession worse. You have no idea how many weeks I had to endure listening to her talk about Professor Thropp’s word choices.” Fiyero said.
“So many insights. So many feelings.” Pfannee said, remembering it all with a sight.
“Dr. D, of course, loved the paper.” Fiyero continued. “And then, with his amazing habit of encouraging chaos, suggested she turn it into a thesis proposal the following year. He even offered to be her advisor if she got in, which of course she did, as we all know, but up until then the real insanity hadn’t started yet.”
“No?” Boq asked.
“No. Because it was only the following semester that Professor Thropp became Professor Thropp at Ozyard and Glinda started following her everywhere.”
“Following her as in…?” Boq ventured.
“Stalking.” Fiyero said cheerfully. “The break room. The coffee cart. The library. And who did she drag along with her every single time?”
Boq burst out laughing.
“Oh, Glin.”
“I know.” Glinda groaned. “I know.”
“But wait.” Fiyero said. “There’s more.”
“Oh?”
“That semester, Professor Thropp offered a seminar. She only taught undergraduates, so Glinda couldn’t enroll – but the seminar was open to everyone. But when applications opened, she got so nervous she chickened out. Even though Dr. D explicitly told her she should apply. So ‘what did she do instead?’ you might ask. She signed me up.
“For the seminar?” Boq asked.
“Yep. And had me record every single class.”
“And you did?”
“Oh, absolutely. She bribed me. Did my laundry. Took care of every house chore for the entire two months the seminar lasted.”
Boq laughed again.
Glinda growled, hiding her face in her hands. “It was not my proudest moment, okay?”
“At the end of the seminar.” Fiyero went on, “Professor Thropp announced she’d been invited to be a visiting professor at Ozford and would be taking a leave of absence for the following year. And that was it, until now. After that though we had a really uncomfortable conversation.”
“He asked me if I was sure I was straight.” Glinda explained.
“A few days later, we broke up.”
“Again.” she sighed, “not my proudest moment.”
“So she was your gay awakening.” Boq said.
“I like to think Fiyero was.” Glinda replied. “After dating him, I realized I didn’t want to date men anymore, so-”
Fiyero gasped, clutching his chest in mocked offense.
They all laughed.
“I’m kidding.” Glinda said. “Mostly. You were an amazing boyfriend.”
“Yes, I was. You on the other hand sucked at it.” Fiyero said. They laughed again. “But you were hot, so it was ok.”
“Were?” Glinda said, offended now.
Fiyero just laughed and turned back towards the espresso machine, focusing on the ritual of pulling shots and steaming milk. He poured the coffee into mugs one by one and handed each of them over.
Glinda gladly accept, the warmth being exactly what she needed to steady herself.
“But seriously, what are you going to do?” Boq asked. “
“Kill myself.” She deadpanned.
He laughed.
“But first.” Glinda continued. “I’m going to send the email Dr. D told me to write. And pray she’s too busy to say yes. And if that fails” She sighed “then it’s back to killing myself.”
“As much as I’d love to stay here and watch the absolute mess you’re about to make of writing that email.” Pfannee said, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “I actually need to get to class. You guys coming?”
He turned to Shenshen and Boq, who nodded.
Shenshen shook her head. “I’m done for the day.”
As they spoke, Glinda’s phone buzzed in her hand. An email from Dr. D, with a list of book recommendations he’d promised to send her. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. A legitimate academic excuse to postpone the Elphaba email just a little longer.
“I’ll walk back with you guys.” Glinda said as they started toward the door. “I need to go to the library.”
“You can’t avoid that email forever.” Fiyero called after her.
“I’m not avoiding it.” Glinda replied quickly. “It’s simply imperative that I locate the books Dr. D just asked me to read. You know how time-consuming those heavy readings can be.”
Fiyero narrowed his eyes at her.
She ignored him, following Pfannee and Boq out the door. The bell chimed behind them as they stepped onto the street.
They’d just reached the other side when Glinda stopped.
“My coffee. I forgot it.” she said. “You guys go on. I’ll catch up.” She waved them on as she turned back toward the café.
Pfannee and Boq kept walking, slowly this time.
“Can I ask you something?” Boq said a few seconds later.
“Yeah.”
“Glinda and Fiyero.” he said carefully.
“Yes?” Pfannee prompted, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
“Was that the whole story? I know it’s none of my business, but it sounds like there’s more to it than what they just told.”
“You’re not wrong.” Pfannee said. “And no, that wasn’t the whole story. It was way more dramatic than that.”
“I knew it.”
“When all of that happened – Glinda being infatuated with that Professor and everything – Fiyero was actually planning to propose.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. He loved her a lot and she loved him, just not like that, but it took Glinda a long time to realize it. Fiyero had to confront her and they had a lot of difficult conversations. Until, eventually, they broke up.” Pfannee paused before continuing. “Fiyero actually came to live with me for a while. He wasn’t mad at her or anything, he was just heartbroken and Glinda was miserable too, so it was… hard.”
“You don’t think he still has feelings for her, do you?” Boq asked quietly.
“No. Definitely not.” Pfannee said. “But– I’ve known Fiyero my whole life, and he never talked about anyone the way he talked about Glinda. My guess is that he decided he’d rather have her in his life as a friend than not have her at all. So he had to learn how to love her differently.” He smiled softly. “Which, thankfully, he did, cause they’re so much better as friends than they ever were as a couple.”
“So they just became roommates again after almost getting married?” Boq asked.
Pfannee laughed. “Well… yeah. About a month or two after the breakup. Glinda called him, asked to meet. They hadn’t been speaking, but he went. They talked. A week later, he moved back in, and somehow everything went back to normal.”
“Just like that?”
“Pretty much. I never thought it would work. The first time Glinda went on a date with a girl, I was convinced he’d fall apart. I was ready to come rescue him. But he was genuinely happy for her. That was Glinda’s first girlfriend, by the way. They even went on double dates together”.
“I could never.” Boq said.
“Me neither. Never.” Pfannee agreed. “But it worked out. And thank Oz it did. They were insufferable when they weren’t speaking. Truly awful.”
“What was awful?” Glinda asked, catching up to them, coffee in hand a bag with a croissant sticking halfway out.
“Oh.” Pfannee said lightly. “I was filling Boq in on your breakup with Fiyero. The unfiltered version.”
Glinda winced.
“Sorry.” Boq said quickly. “I was just curious.”
“No, it’s fine.” Glinda said. “Really. It’s just– those were the worst two months of my life.”
“It would make a great movie, though.” Pfannee said. “We could call it Lavender Marriage.”
Glinda laughed, shaking her head.
“Awful.” she said. “Just awful.”
Glinda dropped her bag onto the chair beside her and slid into a seat near the window. The books Dr. D had asked her to read – old and heavy - were safely tucked inside, but although she would soon had to deal with them, they where very much not the problem she needed to deal with right now
Oz, she wanted so badly to slam her head against the nearest wall.
She had even considered it. Giving herself a mild brain injury, that it’s. Nothing permanent, though, just enough to give her some time, but it wouldn’t work. Knowing Dr. D., though, he’d simply arrange for her to keep writing with the assistance of a nurse and a tray table.
Deciding to face her impeding future, Glinda grabbed her laptop for the second time that day and opened her email.
Good day, Professor Thropp, she typed.
She stared at it for half a second and then deleted it.
Who the fuck says good day?
She tried again.
Dear Professor Thropp
I hope you’re doing well.
I’m writing to ask whether you would consider being a co-adviser on my thesis. My main adviser is Dr. Dillamond, and he suggested that I reach out to you given how closely your work relates to the direction my research has been taking.
My thesis looks at–
My thesis looks at? Looks at nothing. I’m nothing. I’m garbage. Just like this email.
She pressed delete with a little more force than needed.
Her phone rang. She unlocked it without thinking.
Did you send it already? Fiyero asked.
Trying to.
How about:
Good morning, Professor Thropp,
I have been in love with you for years and would very much like to marry you.
If this is something you might be open to, I’d be happy to meet to discuss wedding planning details whenever it’s convenient.
Best regards,
Glinda Upland.
“Fuck you.” Glinda muttered under her breath as she typed it just that. To what Fiyero replied with: 😘😘
And then,
Just send it already.
I will!!!
She dropped her phone facedown on the table.
Professor Thropp, she typed.
That was better.
I hope this message finds you well.
Awful. She hated herself. She hated academia. She hated Dr. D.
I am writing to ask whether you would be willing to serve as a co-adviser on my thesis. Dr. Dillamond mentioned that he has already spoken with you about this possibility and–
– and pretty much obligated me to ask without caring at all about what this will do to my mental health.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
She exhaled slowly and started again. Carefully this time.
Professor Thropp,
I hope this message finds you well.
I am writing to ask whether you would be willing to serve as a co-adviser on my thesis. Dr. Dillamond mentioned that he has already spoken with you about this possibility, but I wanted to reach out directly to express my interest as well, given how influential your work has been in shaping my approach.
Given your expertise in this area, I believe your guidance would be invaluable to the development and refinement of the project. If you are open to this possibility, I would be very happy to discuss the thesis in more detail at your convenience.
Kind regards,
Glinda Upland, master’s student
Department of English and Art
Ozyard University
She read it once.
Then again. Then four more times. It was polite. Professional. Entirely normal.
Her cursor blinked at the end of the email, waiting.
Glinda closed her eyes, counted to three, and hit send, silently hoping Dr. D. had given her the wrong address.
Later that night, Glinda was curled up on the couch, one leg tucked under her, a library book balanced against her knee – one of the many Dr. D had insisted she read immediately.
The apartment smelled like garlic and olive oil as Fiyero cooked them dinner. Glinda tried her best to focus on the page, sipping her white wine slowly, when her phone buzzed beside her.
She hadn’t forgotten about the email. Of course she hadn’t. She just hadn’t expected Professor Thropp to reply that night.
“Fuck. Fuck, Fuck. Shit, shit.”
“What?” Fiyero called from the kitchen.
She looked at the screen. Then at him. Then back at the screen.
“She gave me her number.” Glinda said faintly.
“What?”
“I have Elphaba Thropp’s phone number.”
She crossed the room, hands trembling, and all but shoved the phone in his face.
Hello Glinda,
Thank you for your kind words about my work.
And yes, I would be delighted to be your co-adviser. Dr. Dillamond has already shared some details about the project with me, and I believe he has passed along my initial comments to you.
Please feel free to text me so that we can arrange a time to discuss those comments or any other questions you may have.
Here is my contact information:
+1 (555) 013-7456
I look forward to hearing from you.
Best regards,
Elphaba Thropp, PhD
Department of English and Art
Ozyard University
Affiliated Faculty
Department of Art and History
Ozford University
Fiyero laughed. “Just text her already.”
Glinda stared at the phone, thumbs hovering. She returned to the couch and drained the rest of her wine in one determined sip. Fiyero sat down beside her.
Hello, Professor Thropp. This is Glinda Upland.
I just wanted to start by saying thank you. Dr. Dillamond is also very pleased. He did send me your comments, and I would really like to talk about them with you, if you have the time.
She stopped.
“Is this okay?” she asked, turning the phone toward him.
Fiyero squinted. “Yes. And it doesn’t read at all like you’re about to pass out. Which is a plus.”
“Fuck you.”
“Send it. Or I will.”
“Fine. Okay. There.” She hit send. “I did it.”
They waited.
The kitchen filled with the sound of sizzling oil. Glinda refilled her glass and took a very large sip.
Her phone buzzed again.
It wasn’t a text.
It was a voice memo.
“Oh my Oz.” Glinda whispered.
She pressed play.
“Glinda, hello. I hope you don’t mind me sending a voice memo – I’m driving right now. I’d love to talk to you in person, but I need to be back at Ozford briefly. Something about paperwork I have to sign. I’m actually on my way to the airport, but I’ll be back on Thursday. Let me know if you’re free either that afternoon, around four, or Friday morning.”
Elphaba Thropp was saying her name.
And she sounded like heaven.
“She’s saying my name.” Glinda said, frozen. “She’s actually saying my name. I’m going to die. I’m going to combust.”
Fiyero laughed, shaking his head. “You’re fucked.”
“I am.” Glinda said. “I so am.”
“But ask her to meet on Thursday.” he added. “So we can get drunk later.”
“Why can’t we get drunk on Friday?”
“We can.” He said, turning the stove down as she followed him into the kitchen. “But not at lunch. I have to work, and I know you, you’ll be insufferable. You won’t want to wait.”
She considered this. “You make a good point. You make an excellent point.”
She typed.
I can make it on Thursday.
She paused.
“That’s too dry.” she muttered.
And I don’t mind the voice memo at all-
Fiyero snatched the phone from her hand and typed:
–seeing as I’m in love with everything about you.
“Fiyero Tigelaar!”
“I’m just saying what you’re thinking.”
She deleted that aggressively.
I don’t mind the voice memo at all. Just let me know what location would work best for you.
“You almost sound like an adult.” Fiyero said, reading over her shoulder. “I’m proud.”
She glared at him.
Her phone buzzed again. Another voice memo.
Glinda felt her knees tremble. Dear Oz.
“Perfect.” Elphaba- Professor Thropp said. There was a honk in the background, then the rhythmic click of a turn signal. “There’s a coffee place just outside campus. It’s usually quiet, so we can talk. I’ll send you the address – let me know if it works for you.”
A location pin followed.
For one horrifying moment, Glinda thought it might be Fiyero’s coffee shop.
Thank Oz, it wasn’t.
She took a breath, steadied her hands, and typed.
It works just fine. And again, thank you for saying yes.
The reply came almost immediately. This time, a text, and if Glinda stared at for longer than she should it was simply to confirm the date.
The pleasure is all mine. See you on Thursday.
With the dishes washed and the kitchen cleaned – thanks to Glinda – she collapsed onto the couch. Fiyero, however, disappeared into his bedroom. When he returned, he kissed her cheek and announced, far too cheerfully, that he wouldn’t be sleeping at home.
“Try not to listen to her voice memos on repeat.” he’d said grabbing his keys.
She ignored him, turning on the TV as he left. But after one episode of a particulary bad tv show she didn’t bother findind the name of, she got up, remembering she hadn’t watered the plants, so she did that. Careful and unhurried, even the ones that very clearly did not need it.
When that was over, she checked the laundry basket – empty. She still opened the washer anyway, just in case she’d forgotten something. She hadn’t.
Then she straightened a stack of mail that didn’t need straightening, wiped down a counter that was already clean, and lingered for a moment with nothing left to do.
On any other day, she would have loved having the apartment to herself. But not tonight. Not when she needed distraction and the quiet offered none. And Oz It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that invited bad decisions.
Such as unlocking her phone and listening to the voice memos she was trying her very best to forget.
Elphaba’s voice filled her bedroom – low, steady, and oh so beautiful – as Glinda laid there, staring at the ceiling, phone resting against her chest, letting the sound wash over her again and again.
This was not healthy.
This was not reasonable.
She should probably go back to therapy.
Or go on a date.
Or, at the very least, stop listening to the same message like it was a grounding exercise she’d invented just for herself.
Glinda let the phone slip from her fingers onto the mattress beside her. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, her heart beating a little too fast.
She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead.
“I need to stop.” she murmured to no one, fully aware that this – this was more obsessed than was acceptable. Even by her standards.
With a sigh, she rolled onto her side and reached for the nightstand.
Elphaba’s book was there, because of course it was.
Inherited Narratives.
Glinda picked it up, the weight of it familiar in her hands. The spine fell open easily on the markede page she knew so well. There the paragraphs she’d built her entire thesis around. The ones she’d read for the first time years ago and never quite recovered from. The ones that had made her stop, reread, and think: Oh. This person sees something I didn’t even know how to name.
Political repetition in Oz cannot be explained solely through institutional failure or historical amnesia. On the contrary, its endurance depends on what might be called affective memory: the transmission of fear and hope not as ideas, but as expectations. Literature plays a central role in this process, teaching its readers not only what has happened before, but what is likely to happen again. Through recurring narratives of threat, salvation, betrayal, and renewal, Ozian texts produce a sense of political inevitability, in which futures appear already written. In this way, cycles of power are sustained less by coercion than by familiarity – by the emotional comfort of repetition, even when that repetition carries violence.
What returns, then, is not merely power, but the feeling of power as something already known. In Oz, political life unfolds less as a sequence of breaks than as a series of recognitions, where each new crisis echoes an old one and each promise feels strangely familiar. Literature does not simply narrate these returns; it rehearses them, training readers to inhabit futures that feel inevitable long before they arrive. It is in this space – between memory and expectation, fear and hope – that repetition becomes livable, and power endures not because it is uncontested, but because it feels, once again, like home.
Glinda traced the lines with her fingers, wishing she could forget ever reading it just so she could have the feeling of reading it again for the first time.
It wasn’t only admiration that made her nervous now, or the fact that she was about to face someone she had fantasied about kissing a lot, a lot — though, those thoughts were certainly there. It was the unsettling knowledge that Elphaba’s writing had rearranged something in her, had taught her how to think differently, how to see patterns where before there had only been fragments. Meeting Elphab— Professor Thropp — meant facing the person that had given form to questions she hadn’t yet known how to ask. And that, Glinda realized, was far more terrifying than any simple crush could ever be.
She was oh so truly fucked.