The Interview

Chapter Twenty

"You still haven't told me what Elphaba said when you called her last night."

Glinda took a long draw from her milkshake, making a conscious effort not to fly off the handle the same way she had at Fiyero's apartment. She couldn't recall ever shouting like this at anyone before. She'd been angry, and she'd been confused. She'd had legitimate reasons to be upset with Fiyero, and she'd been on edge because of Elphaba. This had proved an explosive combination, and the result hadn't been pretty. She'd been aware that the magnitude of her outburst was disproportional to his crime, yet hadn't been able to stop herself. Now, whenever she felt irritated, the trick was to contain it, to nip her rage in the bud. While she doubted that she was still emotionally loaded enough to shout and rant as she had then, she wasn't willing to take even the slightest risk.

She took another sip, merely for the purpose of stalling, and gulped it down inelegantly.

"You've really got nerves," she began to say, but she suddenly began to cough when some of her drink found its way down the wrong pipe, causing the last words to come out more like a wheeze.

As she patted her chest to clear her airways, she finally looked up at him, searching his expression. He appeared to be all patience, simply sitting there and waiting for her to make up her mind. His calm exterior wouldn't fool her though. She knew that clandestinely, he was still curious as hell and wouldn't ever give up harping on this topic until he got the answers he wanted. That darling scoundrel.

She'd apologised to him in the end—after he'd weathered the storm like the old Vinkun castle he'd grown up in. He'd never even tried to fight her, least of all tried to turn the tables on her. Once clarity had set back in, she'd appreciated that so very much. Then, after everything was said and done, they'd gotten ready for the night and shared the bed almost as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The next morning, he'd made breakfast and coffee and casually asked about the call. The moment he'd seen her expression change, he'd backed off. Which didn't mean that he wouldn't try again a few more times later that day. In some ways, that night had reminded her of why she loved him so much, and after his initial slip up, he'd clearly tried very hard to do the right thing; but how prying could a boy possibly be?

Several minutes passed, but Fiyero remained almost motionless, sitting silently with folded arms, his eyes fixed on her. His food and drink were still untouched, even though the waitress had delivered them a fair while ago. It began to truly unnerve her, and eventually, in a rather patronising tone, she told him to keep his eyes on the cake and start eating.

Despite her angry mother vibes, he didn't seem all that intimidated.

"Why aren't you willing to talk about this?" he implored, following up his question with a heavy sigh.

He cast brief glances at the people around him before slowly leaning as far forward as the table would allow him. He unfolded his arms and reached out for her, but she let go of her cup and leaned further back in her chair.

"Because you just can't stop meddling in my personal affairs," she scoffed. "And I'm over it. Besides, after that little stunt you pulled, you absolutely do not deserve to get an exclusive inside scoop as a reward."

Fiyero took a moment to consider her last argument, lips tight. In the end, the internal tension fell off him as he shrugged feebly.

"I'm sorry. I know what I did was rather borderline. But by now we've sort of established a pattern where you have a problem, and I more or less help you to solve it."

He was right. Without him, she probably wouldn't ever have met up with Elphaba. To contact her in Glinda's name had been one bold move, alright. But it had changed her life. For the better, they both hoped. Even down the line, he'd given her little prods and nudges here and there to help advance their relationship. Things had always worked out somehow, yet that didn't mean that this kind of behaviour was appropriate or healthy.