#{shiz}

Had they truly been together? The question haunted Galinda as much as it haunted you. Were you the reason for their dissonance? 

Fear kept it's claws pierced into the muscle of your tired heart, an unforgiving reminder that there was a time when you weren't scared. The fear you felt when Fiyero stepped close was one that you had felt only a few times before, and one had been when you first met Fiyero. 

In hopes that you moved on from this fear of yours, from this sheer scarcity of broader emotions, Fiyero did what he could. Sweet nothings whispered into your ears, a few small gifts that had you close to tears once you were alone and away from Fiyero's prying eyes. A song, meant for you—the words echoing in your mind over and over when you had a moment to yourself. 

His face had burned into the back of your retina. You saw him when you least expected it. To say it was an obsession was wrong; you thought of many people over and over again, like your parents and friends from long ago, wishing them well. For a heart that has lived so many years without focus, finding it malleable to a man who wished the best for you was expected. 

Being known, being seen by someone else—it was not obsession but a window to something more. A window to a reality in which you were capable of not only love but acceptance in someone else's heart. 

For a world that has lived so many years in a catacomb of irregularities, it was a nice change to have something consistent. Fiyero—he was consistent. Despite his inconsistency that had been proliferated by your adamant evasions only weeks prior, Fiyero was nothing if not consistent. He was there when you least expected it. He was a comfort on the darkest of days, even when you wished to push him away. 

The terrifying idea of accepting love had weaseled its way deep within your soul, wrapping its tendrils around your heart, threatening to squeeze out every last drop of blood within you. And yet, it didn't. Love was not anger and destruction. Love was acceptance and caring and knowing you and all of your flaws. 

Love was Fiyero forcing you to the Ozdust Ballroom. Love was Fiyero tugging on your hand so you would pay attention to whatever it was he was focused on. Love was you letting Fiyero do so, paying attention to whatever it was he pointed out or talked about or made terrible jokes toward. 

The sad boy with needs of his own was accepting you into his heart, even more than he had before. You were trying your damn best to do the same, reciprocating his excited demeanor in any way you possibly could. 

How beautiful was love to know that Fiyero would do just about anything you asked (but not kill the giant bug that had come up from the floorboards in his dormitory—that was out of the question). 

How beautiful was love to know that this man whom you tried so many times to push away had stayed right there, waiting for the moment to arise that he could finally show you that he loved you as much as you wished to protect yourself. 

You were afraid. Yes. But now, as the hours blurred into days and weeks, you realized that the fear of being known was not as strong as your fear of losing Fiyero. In a short time, Fiyero had become a part of you in ways you did not realize possible. No longer were you afraid of knowing him, but you were afraid of losing him. 

Losing his comfort, his kindness allotted to so few. His friends, the friendship he had created with Elphaba that ultimately spread to you.

Losing the man that you adamantly tried to dissuade from being interested in you only to fail miserably as it seemed the only thing your attempts did was backfire in every which way. 

How beautiful was love to know that Fiyero had cared for you the moment he met you; how beautiful was love to know that between the footnotes and side quests, he thought of you in the depths of the late night hours, the long hours of studying, the assignments that continued to pile high. 

He knew you. 

And while it had scared you previously, you realized that there was nothing to fear. Only you and Fiyero knew yourself. If anyone else were to know who you were, deep inside, it would not be disastrous. Sure, you did not wish for many more souls to weave their mark on yours, but you knew that it would not be as disastrous as it once would have been. Fiyero knew you, and even know, he was still learning more about you. He was still doing his best to figure out what made you tick, what you loved and hated, what you wished the world would do for you in the long run. 

How beautiful was it to know that this man knew you as well as you knew yourself. 

At the present, you sat in the many open spaces of Shiz—a gazebo close to the outskirts of the forest, back against the railing while your eyes tried to read the words of the pages on your book for the third time over. You couldn't think, words meshing together and not making a lick of sense. You let out a soft grown and would have slammed the book shut had it not been for a familiar hand pulling the book away from you, blue eyes quickly skimming over the contents. 

"A romance novel?" Fiyero's words are laced with the makings of a laugh, the smile on his face unmistakably amused. "What in Oz's green earth are you reading this for, Y/n?"

Oh, you'd been caught by the one person you wished you hadn't. You could feel the burn of embarrassment hound your cheeks, that familiar tingly feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

"I was bored," you said. 

"Oh, oh, bored," Fiyero repeated, humorous grin spread tight across his skin. "You read romance novels when you are bored?" He closed the book and handed it to you, not marking the page you had been on. It mattered little to you—the book itself was nothing remarkable with oddly named characters and scenes that left you confused more than what you expected it to. 

You ignored his question, crossing your arms over your chest. "Where have you been, Fiyero?" If you pointed the subject to him, perhaps he would drop it entirely. It had worked before. 

"You are evading my question," he said, the words dripping from his lips with obvious intent. "You read romance novels. Why?"

"Oh, Oz, Fiyero, it is not even that big of a deal—"

"—I have never seen you read them before," he chimed, sitting down on the bench beside of you. "But now, Y/n, you have one. Does that not seem odd to you?"

A huff was greeted by a laugh escaping from Fiyero's already smiling face. You ignored him, looking away and thinking of an excuse—how do you tell a man you were reading a romance novel to see what it should look like? To see how you should feel? It was not the best route to go, but being hurt in your past led you to believe you did not know what it truly felt like; what you should have done or what you should do for the man that now has your interest. 

Instead of continuing on with the barrage of questions, Fiyero took your hands in his, making you drop the book to the floor of the gazebo. You gazed down at it, only looking to Fiyero at the nudge of his finger. 

"Come, now, I merely jest," he said, eyeing you warily. "I do not mind if you read things like that."

"I mind."

"Do you?"

"Yes," you huffed softly once more, frowning all-the-while. "I have been so adamant on avoiding—avoiding love that I do not know if it is right of me to... to..."

"To what?"

"To care for you as I do."

Fiyero tilted his head curiously. "We have talked about this before, Y/n."

Nose scrunched, you shake your head. "Not like this."

"Then what is this? I thought you had moved beyond your fear of being vulnerable."

"You never stop, do you?" you asked, embarrassment flooding your senses once more. You attempted to pull your hands away, but he stopped you. He brought your hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

"You were reading the book to know what to do? To know how to feel?"

"Maybe," you relented. "I am not really sure why I picked that one. I just..."

"You have spent many years avoiding the issue at hand, hm? And now you wish to understand, to know what you should do now?"

At that, you nodded. His smile returned once more. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

"You have no need to be so defensive, Y/n," he chided, thumbs brushing against your knuckles as he sat up straight. "It is a scary thing, is it not? Vulnerability. Being so caught up in someone else's thoughts that you do not know what is right from wrong."

Pursing your lips, you looked up at him, eyes locking with his. The blue was striking in a way that you had noticed only a handful of times before. They were heavy in the way that showed years of inconsistencies. The furrows of his iris gave way to secrets untold, still waiting for you to say the words. Once you did that, he would tell you in a heartbeat. You knew he would. 

You knew he would. Is that what this was? Realizing that you knew more than your mind let on?

"You are thinking too much," Fiyero said. "Sometimes, Y/n, you just... have to let yourself feel."

"I am feeling."

"Oh, are you?"

"Yes. I think."

Fiyero smiled at that. "Stop that," he said. "Stop thinking. Do not question it, do not try to push it away. Feel. Your heart can take it. I have seen it take so many different things; this one will not hurt you. Not in the ways you believe it so."

"I am not afraid," you said, though your voice was weak and your grasp in his hands was as loose as the sun setting in the horizon. It would be nightfall soon and here you were, still questioning it all. 

"I know you are not," Fiyero reminded, needing you to realize that he has heard you since the moment he first met you. From day one, he had listened—he had strained to understand, had done somersaults to get to the conclusions he found revolving around you. 

Being afraid was normal. It was not going to go away any time soon, regardless of how often you tried to tell yourself you were over the past—that you were over being afraid of letting someone else in. Being vulnerable was not a bad thing, just as being scared was completely understandable. If you were not afraid, you would not be human. 

To love was to be human. To fear was to be human. It came with the realities that so many people faced, Fiyero included. 

The prince nudged your cheek with his knuckle, catching your eyes with his. 

"If you wish for me to leave you alone, now, I will do so."

You thought for a moment, brows cinching together at the idea of it. Being alone. It was something you had gotten so used to, something that you had grown to expect. But you did not want that. Not today. So, you shook your head in response, words spilling from your lips in succession. 

"I wish for you to stay."

He smiled once more. You could not help but admire this. A smile you once believed to be fake had the sincerity it always had. You wished you could take back every nasty thought, every inconceivable groan your mind had worked towards in the months leading up to Fiyero finally breaking through the ice around your heart. You swore of that silly promise you made yourself so many years ago—vulnerability could be a good thing, with the right person. 

Fiyero. He was the right person. 

You knew that now. 

Fiyero, even now, saw you in ways that you did not imagine possible. His eyes traced every contour of your body, saw every crevice that you wished to hide away from prying eyes. He knew your mind, the palm of your hand, the way you reacted when something went wrong. 

He saw you.

Perhaps that was what was meant for you.

After years of pain and pity from others, you were meant to catch the attention of a man who foolheartedly wanted you. The man who had claimed life was easier for the brainless—the man who had wished for your attention even when you wished for him to go away. 

Friendless you may have once been, but not now. Not with him.

He commanded the beat of your heart, the march of your soul. The prince alone wished for everything you had ever wanted, and then some. 

Being afraid was so very human, much like being loved was. To love someone was to be changed.

To be loved by someone was to transform every piece of your body, mind, and soul. 

To be changed.