"No, you're not. Or you wouldn't be so unhappy."

Unhappy.

Unhappy?

That one single word sliced through Fiyero like a freshly sharpened blade, attacking that vulnerability he worked so hard to hide as if it were nothing.

Of course he was happy, he was a prince, with a beautiful woman on his arm, loved by all, wasn't he?

Loved by all.

Wasn't he?

"I—well—I—" he swallowed, stammering through his response like an idiot. "Fine, if you don't want my help…."

He turned, away from the green women, away from her easy insight into him, away from her prying eye, away from the fear of admitting that she was right, exposing that fear, accepting the fact that she was right.

He wasn't ready to say it aloud.

He was too afraid to say it aloud.

But he was even more afraid of her ability to see that.

So he began to leave, walk away from the crushing responsibility that he refused to face head-on.

Fiyero had taken all of about five or so steps before her voice cut through the silence again.

"No, I do…!"

And then, he felt it.

Her grasp on him.

But it wasn't just the weight of her words this time, it was the grip of her long, green fingers wrapping around his own.

That tingling, almost sparking feeling was too intense to ignore.

He turned, glancing down, unable to take his eyes off that small but oh-so-strong hand clutching his, keeping him from walking any further, keeping him from moving at all, keeping him from breathing.

Her hand was like any other hand—no, that wasn't quite right. Hers was different, different than the soft, petite, manicured hand of Galinda.

Her grip was firm but gentle, gentle enough as not to hurt him, but firm enough to keep him from pulling away.

Though he wasn't quite sure he would have wanted to pull away even if he could.

Before he could register what he was doing, he had ran his thumb across the skin of her knuckles, the back of her hand, marvelling at how such a strong woman could feel so soft and smooth. The extra touch only fueled the slamming of his heart in his chest, so much so that he was afraid she could hear it.

His eyes travelled from Elphaba's fingers to her face, taking in the shocked expression written all over it, the way she held his gaze with no hesitation, despite the clear embarrassment radiating off of her.

Fiyero didn't ever want to let go of her. His entire body ached with a longing that he had never felt before—but not in the way he usually longed for a woman. Maybe he did long to kiss her, deep down, somewhere in his subconscious, but at that very moment, his desire was different. Purer, softer, sweeter.

All he wanted was to tug her close to him, hold her in his arms, and never let go.

Maybe it was because he was finally realizing the full extent of what this woman had gone through. Maybe it was because he was unconsciously relieved that she had said what she said—after all, that would mean he had finally found someone who understood him.

Or maybe it was because just then, in that moment, he had understood her.

Fiyero was much too afraid to act on this longing, though, and before he'd had a chance to go through with what he so desperately wanted to do, Elphaba had yanked her hand away in a tizzy and ran to the cage containing the Lion cub, bending over it, reaching her fingers through the bars.

"I...I didn't meant to frighten him," she said in a small voice, a tone that jabbed at Fiyero's chest.

He drew in a breath as an attempt to compose himself, his heart still fluttering in his chest like a caged butterfly, before he spoke.

"What did you mean to do, then?" he questioned, making his way back towards her, kneeling beside her, "and why was I the only one you didn't do it to?"

Elphaba turned, her mouth open and ready to throw out a retort, before the man's sudden closeness shocked her into silence.

There was a long, agonizing few moments of complete quiet before she parted her lips again to say, "You're bleeding."

Fiyero almost didn't hear the green woman's trembling tone. The prince was much too focused on the close proximity of her face. He was seeing her in a light that he'd never seen her in before.

Elphaba's skin was flushed, not pink or red like his was, but a richer, darker green color spreading from her cheeks down her neck. Her earthy brown eyes were still blazing with the fire and passion from the chaos earlier, but were now wider, softer, gentler, as she gazed upon his face, strands of her hair hindering their view. Fiyero's hand twitched with the urge to lift his arm and brush the smooth tresses away from her face, to tuck them behind her ear, to feel his knuckles brush against her cheek and along her beautifully defined jaw.

Wait.

He couldn't afford to be thinking those things about the green girl. He was in love with Galinda, beautiful Galinda.

Beautifully shallow, superficial Galinda.

Suddenly, the blonde didn't seem so perfect to him anymore.

Fiyero was snapped out of his trance when he noticed Elphaba's lips were moving.

Those beautiful, dark emerald lips, so close to his that if he leaned forwards enough….

No.

Galinda.

Not Elphaba.

Galinda.

It wasn't until Fiyero heard Elphaba let slip a quiet gasp that he realized what he was doing.

His arm had moved with a mind of its own, his hand every so lightly touching her cheek, his fingers twined with the ebony locks falling in her face, dragging them back agonizingly slowly across her cheekbone before he could finally tuck them behind her ear.

But he didn't stop there, didn't pull his hand away.

Instead, he left it there, his thumb resting on her cheek, feeling the heat radiating from it, his palm cradling her neck just underneath her ear.

When he finally took his eyes off his hand against her skin and met her gaze again, he saw how wide her own eyes were, frozen, almost reminding him of a deer caught in the beam lights of an oncoming train.

Those beautiful lips were parted slightly in what Fiyero assumed was shock.

That only made him want to kiss her more.

But it wasn't until Elphaba moved, leaning ever so slightly into his touch, pressing her cheek into his hand in the lightest way possible, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyes closed just the smallest amount, that he just couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't sit still any longer.

Fiyero shot up on his knees, entangling his other hand into her black locks, securing his grip on her, pulling her up with him and crushing his lips against hers.

The kiss was messy, sloppy, almost forced, and completely one-sided. Elphaba went completely rigid, her spine stiffening, her eyelids snapping open in surprise. It wasn't until Fiyero felt her palms press against his chest, pushing him backwards, crudely ripping them apart, that he pulled his own hands away, falling back on his calves, his face wild with shock and guilt.

Elphaba wasn't saying anything legible, just stuttering out gibberish that neither of them could understand, her face painted the darkest shade of green Fiyero had ever seen, her hands flailing with over-exaggerated gestures as she clambered to her feet.

And then, he saw it.

The glassy sheen of tears over her eyes.

That was when he realized he had gone much too far.

Before he could gather his thoughts enough to apologize, to ease the pangs of shame in his chest, she'd disappeared in a flurry of green, blue, and white.

Fiyero leaned forwards, curling into himself, burying his face into his hands with a groan of shame and regret.

"Goddamnitt, what have I done?"