Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow through the window of their dorm. Elphaba sat at her desk, a thick textbook open in front of her, quill in hand, furiously scribbling notes to prepare for the exams the coming week. It was quiet, save for the faint humming and rustling from across the room. Elphaba was so accustomed to hearing her roommate fluttering about that it barely registered anymore. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and hunched over her notes, her quill scratching across the paper. She reached to flip a page of her book but knocked the inkwell over, spilling the black goo onto her hand and the edge of her notes. With a frustrated sigh, she stood from her desk and walked over to the laundry basket by her bed, pulling out an old, wrinkled grey towel. Really ought to get these washed, she thought. With finals looming over her, she had so much to do she didn’t know when she’d find the time. She wiped her hand with the towel and glanced up to find her roommate studying her reflection in the mirror, pink dress held against her body.

“Finals are dreadful, aren’t they?” Glinda said as she smoothed the front of the pink fabric and assessed her appearance. “You’ve been stressed out lately.” Elphaba blinked, unsure of how to respond and went back to her desk. She huffed in frustration again as she took in the mess. Glinda laughed lightly, “Yeah me too.” Elphaba turned her attention to Glinda, who had discarded the pink dress and was now rifling through her closet, pulling out another dress— also pink— and holding it up in front of the mirror. They were identical.

“I’d go with the pink.” Elphaba said, her voice flat, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

“This one is actually champagne pink,” Glinda responded. “Though considering your wardrobe consists of…” She looked Elphaba up and down, “Black, I’m not surprised you don’t know that.” A playful smile flashed across her face before she went back to her closet and put the champagne pink dress up.

“Well, not all of us are fashion extraordinaires,” Elphaba said, her tone flat, before turning back to her desk and reaching for a clean piece of paper. She started over on her notes but didn’t get far along before Glinda started chattering again.

“You could come with me tonight, y’know?”

Elphaba looked at Glinda, who wasn’t looking at her but instead staring intently at her reflection in the mirror, body completely still, waiting for a response. She thought for a moment about what that would look like— Elphaba out on the town with Glinda and company. No doubt Pfannee and Shenshen would have much to say about her green skin, and Glinda, who, while polite to Elphaba in the privacy of their dorm, would no doubt laugh along with them. Her desire to fit in would outweigh whatever uneasy acquaintanceship had formed between the two of them over the past few months.

“I think I’d rather stay in,” Elphaba replied dismissively. “I have a lot of studying to do.”

“You could use the socialization practice, with the winter banquet coming up next week. It could be fun, Elphaba!” Glinda said.

“I’d really rather not,” Elphaba said, and she looked up at her roommate. She suddenly felt guilty. Here Glinda was, making an effort to include her in something, and Elphaba had just dismissed her. “But thank you for the offer. That was kind of you,” she added, her tone sincere.

 Glinda hummed, settling on the pink dress from earlier; not the champagne one, of course, because the distinction was of the upmost importance. She disappeared into their shared bathroom to change, and Elphaba turned her attention back to her studies. After a moment, she heard the door click shut, and Glinda was back in the room, heading toward the door. She paused before opening it and turned toward Elphaba.

“See ya,” she said. Elphaba glanced up from her book and waved at Glinda.

Elphaba sat in a quiet corner of the library, eyes glued to her textbook. The quiet rustle of pages and scribble of notes were comforting, the steady rhythm of studying creating a sense of peace. She felt the most at ease in the quiet isolation of the library, tucked away in a corner by a window that overlooked the school grounds. She looked through the glass at the bustling students, bundled in long coats and hands tucked into pockets as they rushed to escape the cold. A group had gathered under a leafless tree; one boy threw his head back in laughter, and Elphaba could see the puff of his breath hanging in the air. She shivered, glad to be in the warmth of the library.

She forced her mind back into focus on the book opened in front of her. She had one more test before the semester finally ended and couldn’t afford to slack off. Brows furrowed she attempted to continue her studies, but now a familiar light, airy voice cut through the quiet.

“I’m thinking something soft this year,” Glinda said. “A delicate shade, like lavender. What do you think?”

Elphaba looked up from her corner and saw Glinda, Pfannee, and Shenshen sitting at a table in the middle of the library, books unopened next to them. Her friends quickly and enthusiastically chimed in. Whether they had an actual opinion, or just wanted to praise Glinda, Elphaba had no idea. She shifted in her seat, thinking about her own outfit for the evening. She didn’t own anything even half as extravagant or pretty as Glinda did. She had never really been that girl. She pictured herself in a simple frock, next to Glinda in one of the pretty, colorful dresses she wore.  Quite the contrast, she thought before once again turning her focus back to her books.

“I bet Fiyero would love anything you put on,” she heard Pfannee say lightly to Glinda before her voice took a playful, teasing tone. “Or took off!” The girls giggled and Elphaba slammed her book shut. She clearly wasn’t going to get any study done with frilly laughter and meaningless, loud conversations happening around her. It was a library for goodness’ sake! She shoved her books in her bag and quickly made her way out of the library, making sure not to look at Glinda and her friends as she left. Her dorm would have the quiet she needed to study properly.

Elphaba was sitting in her bed, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of a book. The night of the winter banquet had finally arrived, and Glinda had completely transformed the space into her very own dressing room. Makeup was spread out on her vanity and dresses were spread carefully on her bed. Elphaba was already dressed and ready to go, but the banquet wasn’t set to start yet. She had resigned herself to sit quietly in her nervousness and read, but worry tugged at her muscles, making her feel tight and restless. There was supposed to be an academic award announced at the banquet and she was fairly sure she would be the recipient of it. The thought of having to stand in front of the entire student body filled her with nerves. If only she could be like Glinda. She looked up at her to find her sitting at the vanity applying her makeup. Glinda would have no problem getting up in front of a crowd, in fact they’d probably thank her just for standing on the stage.

“You look like you’re going to be sick.” Glinda’s words pulled Elphaba from her thoughts. “See if you had listened to me and come out last weekend, you wouldn’t be so nervous about having to socialize.” Glinda brushed powder over her cheeks, movements smooth and practiced. Elphaba did not respond right away, not wanting to be completely truthful about her nerves, but not really feeling like engaging in playful banter at the moment. She sighed.

“It’s not that it’s just…” she trailed off. Glinda stopped what she was doing and looked at her, head tilted in concern. Elphaba struggled to get the words out, not used to sharing how she felt with others; not out of disinterest but more so because no one really seemed to care. She looked at Glinda, the sincerity in her face made her feel suddenly hot.

“What?” Glinda said, lightly with a flicker of concern in her eyes.

“It’s nothing I—” Elphaba faltered and then stood abruptly, the room suddenly suffocating her. “I just need some air.” She made her way to the door and quickly left the room, seeking a walk to clear her mind before the start of the banquet.

The banquet hall was grand, decorated in the blues and silvers of winter. Snowflakes hung from the ceiling and the lights twinkled with a soft, warm glow. Elphaba, unaccustomed to such elaborate and ornate events, glanced down at her simple black dress. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur around her. She scanned the crowd, looking for her sister and her sister’s friend. She spotted them in a corner talking amicably and swallowed a lump in her throat before taking her first step. As she walked through the crowd toward Nessa and Boq, she caught the snickers and whispered remarks—nothing she hadn’t grown used to during her time at Shiz. Well, everywhere she went, really. She could almost hear the familiar line in her head: “Look at the green bean!” followed by the usual gasps of shock and disgust. Elphaba narrowed her eyes as she walked past them toward her sister. She’d heard those words a thousand times, yet somehow, they never seemed to lose their sting.

“Elphaba!” Nessa said as she came close. “How were your tests? I’m sure you did well as usual.”

“Glad they’re over, though I’m sure I did fine. And you?” Elphaba said. Nessarose let out a sign of frustration.

“Terribly, I’m afraid! You know I’ve never been quite as good as you at remaining focused on my books, though Boq proved an excellent study partner,” Nessa said and turned her head towards Boq, giving him an affectionate smile. He smiled back at her before turning towards Elphaba.

“Yes without me I’m sure she would have failed them all,” he laughed. “Miss Elphaba, have you seen Miss Glinda? I thought she might like to sit with us tonight.” He looked around the banquet hall expectantly then chuckled nervously. “Though with Fiyero around, I’m not sure She’ll have the time.” He fiddled with his hands and Elphaba rolled her eyes, Glinda had just about everyone at school wrapped around her little finger.

“No, I haven’t seen her. Last I checked she was still at her vanity working on her makeup, taking forever to get ready as usual. Who knows if she’ll even make it time?” Elphaba said and a comfortable, maybe slightly awkward silence settled between them. Elphaba had absolutely no idea what her sister saw in the Munchkin boy, he was nice enough to her and others, but it was so obvious that his affections were pointed more towards that of one Glinda Upland. As she was just about to inquire whether her sister wanted a drink, she felt the room quiet and turned towards the entrance where said blonde had just made her arrival. Glinda entered the hall with Pfannee and Shenshen, wearing a flowing soft lavender gown that transitioned into a pale silver at the hem. Beautiful in the annoying, flawless way that she was, the way that made every head in the room turn towards her. Elphaba smirked, noticing that her head was decidedly not exempt from that observation.

“I’m going to go and see if she or the other ladies should need assistance with drinks or anything of the sort!” Boq exclaimed and hastily made his way toward Glinda.

“Persistent, that one,” Elphaba said as she turned once more toward Nessa. “Speaking of a drink, I’m feeling a little parched myself, do you want me to get you something?”

“No, I’m okay,” Nessa said. “I think I’m going to make my way over to a table before the feasting begins. I’ll see you over there.” She smiled and wheeled away towards the nearest table and Elphaba made her way to the drinks. Set toward the entrance of the room, Elphaba felt slightly more at ease being away from all the people. She took a deep breath and examined the options, all punches, not surprising, though Elphaba was hopeful that there might be a little wine. It was the end of the semester after all, and the end of semester testing was over with. She finally settled on the red punch in the center, when she heard the familiar click of heels from her roommate and readied herself for whatever frivolous conversation the blonde girl might provide.

“Well, look who finally managed to pull herself from the books!” Glinda said, a light smile on her lips. Elphaba put on a slight smile of her own before turning to the girl and replying.

“You make it sound like I’m some kind of hermit, Glinda, I go plenty of places.” Elphaba said, lifting her chin a little in defiance.

“Yes, well, I don’t think the library counts as an outing.” She teased. “Aren’t you a little excited about tonight? The grandeurism, the festivities...”

“If you call excited wanting to go home from the moment I arrived, then yes, I’m so very excited.” Elphaba said dryly.

“Awwww.” Glinda cooed.

“What is wrong with you?” She raised an eyebrow wondering why in Oz Glinda would be making such a noise at her.

 “You think of our room as a home! I knew you’d grow fond of me eventually,” Glinda winked at Elphaba and giggled. “Everyone does.” Elphaba rolled her eyes, but there was a little tug, maybe pride or something softer. She wasn’t quite sure. She couldn’t bring herself to dismiss it- the idea that someone so unlike her, the charming, popular, and pretty girl in front of her could want anything at all to do with Elphaba. A blithe smirk tugged the corner of her mouth, despite herself.

“Oh yes I’m so very fond of your constant humming and fluttering about the room while I try and get work done.” Elphaba said and let out a shaky laugh. The playful banter after months of being at each other’s throats was new to her, but she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the back and forth. A little. Glinda opened her mouth with a retort, but Fiyero sauntered up to the two girls, his usual confident grin in place.

“Well, well, Glinda,” he said as he casually leaned against the table. “If you’re looking for something sweet, I’m right here.” He gave her a wink. Elphaba’s lips formed a tight, reluctant smile, suppressing the sigh that so badly wanted to come out. Typical Fiyero, she thought. Always knowing how to play a room. She looked at her roommate whose smile widened, and eyelashes fluttered. And typical Glinda completely falling for it. She tightened her grip on her drink before taking a sip and crossed her arms.

“Oh, Fiyero, it’s so good to see you.” Glinda said. She tossed her hair back as she turned toward Fiyero and placed an arm on his shoulder. “I hope you’ve saved a seat for me.” Elphaba’s smile faded, replaced with a tight, closed off feeling in her throat. She wanted no part in Fiyero’s attempts at suaveness, though it seemed to work wonders on Glinda. She watched as Glinda once again flipped that infuriatingly gorgeous blonde hair and gave a light laugh at something Fiyero said. Elphaba had had enough of watching whatever all that was and made her escape. She walked quickly back to the table where her sister and Boq were sat at.

Before making it to her destination she caught sight of a familiar, comforting face— Dr. Dillamond. He was in the midst of an animated conversation with his colleagues. His eyes met hers and he gave her a warm smile to which she returned with a small wave. She hesitated a moment before making her way over to him, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, but wanting to discuss research with him. She would be staying at Shiz over the holiday and the professor invited her to work with him on his latest study, The Psychosocial Behaviors of Animals in the Modern World. Elphaba couldn’t wait to get started. Dr. Dillamond smiled warmly at her as she arrived.

“Why, hello, Miss Elphaba,” he gave a slight bow of his head in greeting. “How are you enjoying tonight’s festivities?”

“It’s certainly…” she glanced around the room for some way to describe the evening, before settling on “something.” Dr. Dillamond gave her a knowing chuckle.

“I know how you feel, these grand occasions aren’t for everyone. Though, I find the roast to be worth all the ceremony.” He said and Elphaba smiled.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Professor, I wanted to discuss with you the research that I’ll be assisting you on over the break. I’m quite looking forward to working with you and I wanted to thank you for including me. I was wondering when exactly you were wanting to get started, I’ve been thinking a lot about which books might be beneficial to the work, but I wasn’t quite sure with what or where you were wanting to start.” Her words began to trail off, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she realized how quickly she was speaking. Dr. Dillamond raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“Always in a hurry, you are.” He said. Elphaba furrowed her eyebrow and tilted her head, frowning slightly.

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean by that,” she let out a breathless, nervous chuckle.

“There’s time for work, and there’s time for rest,” he began. “No doubt you’ve spent the last several weeks nose in a book, not paying attention to anything going on around you.” Elphaba froze, a sharp breath catching in her throat as if the words had physically struck her. Dr. Dillamond smiled knowingly at her reaction, “Come now, Miss Elphaba, you’ve worked so hard this semester. Allow yourself to relax and have fun tonight, you’ve just completed your exams and done brilliantly I assume. Let yourself go, as they say.” Elphaba shifted her weight from one foot to the other and crossed her arms; she looked around the room and settled on Glinda, surrounded by a group of admirers, as usual. Her light, effortless laugh cut through the noise of the crowd. She really did look radiant in that lavender gown, perhaps it was necessary to spend so long getting ready. As if sensing the weight of Elphaba’s gaze, Glinda’s eyes flickered to meet hers from across the room. Glinda smiled and lifted a delicate hand, giving Elphaba a small, casual wave.

Elphaba’s chest tightened at the gesture, warmth spreading through her body, as her breath caught. Something in Glinda’s expression felt far too personal and an unfamiliar longing twisted in Elphaba’s stomach. She quickly averted her eyes, heart racing, and turned her attention back to Dr. Dillamond. “Well,” she said softly. “Thank you, Professor, I think I needed to hear that.”  

“Anytime,” he replied. “I’ll send word when it’s time for us to get started, now, please do enjoy your night.” With a nod, Elphaba turned to head back towards her sister and Boq, a calm settling over her at Dr Dillamond’s words, resigning herself to try and relax for once. As she was sitting down at the table, Madame Morrible stepped up to the stage and cleared her throat to make an announcement.

“Students, congratulotions on your completion of the semester,” she paused as the students applauded each other. “Now, everyone please take your seats, the feast is about to begin.”

The feast was laid out in front of them, a hefty meal of roasted meats, potatoes, and platters of fresh vegetables. The rich smell filled the air as the students and faculty were served their dishes. The spread gleamed under the chandeliers and Elphaba, Nessa, and Boq wasted no time digging in.

“Well, Dr. Dillamond was right,” she said in between bites. “The roast is quite good.” She smiled at Nessa who was quietly enjoying her plate as well. Boq, who always had something over the top and exceedingly optimistic chimed in.

“It’s the little things!” He sighed contentedly and nudged Nessa’s shoulder. “A wonderful meal with wonderful company to celebrate the end of the semester.” Nessa rolled her eyes affectionately at him.

“Oh, Boq, you always know just what to say!” She said with a smile on her face. Elphaba had to admit that the boy had a point, the meal was exceedingly delicious and being out and with the two of them wasn’t so bad, despite feeling out of place at such a large gathering.

As the feasting died down, the room quieted and Elphaba’s shoulders stiffened as Madame Morrible rose from her seat and stepped back to the stage. All eyes turned toward the headmistress, eagerly waiting the announcement she was to make on this semester’s academic excellence award.

“Students, as you all know, at the end of the semester the faculty comes together to choose a student who promotes the academic excellence that Shiz models itself after.” Her voice boomed across the hall, and she paused, forcing the students to wait in anticipation. “It is with my most sincere pleasure that I announce this year’s recipient of the Shiz Fall Academic Excellence Award is…” Another pause as a buzz of electricity filled the room. “Miss Elphaba Thropp!”

The room was quiet as the realization settled with Elphaba. While she certainly deserved such an award, she was not at all used to being the center of attention in that way. Boq, with a big smile, gestured for her to stand up and go towards the stage. Elphaba stood and made her way up to Madame Morrible, there was a select few students clapping for her, far more whispered to each other and giggled at her. Not a surprise, just keep walking and get this over with, she told herself. To her surprise, as she walked past the table that housed Glinda and her friends, the blonde clapped for her with vigor and smiled widely when Elphaba made eye contact. Elphaba smiled back at her, and Glinda nudged Fiyero, who was sitting next to her, to clap as well. He did, though with much less enthusiasm. Elphaba stepped up to the stage and the room quieted, a strange static in the air. Before she could reach her hands out and accept the award from Morrible, a sudden, heavy and cold weight came crashing down on her. The shock and stickiness of whatever poured down her body made it hard for her to breathe. She lifted her arms, staring at the thick pink paint that now covered her skin and clothes. She froze and her mind raced to process what just happened, her body tense as the laughter erupted around her. For a brief moment, Elphaba met Glinda’s gaze, whose smile faltered. She looked at Elphaba with wide, concerned eyes, before quickly looking away. Nessa and Boq were unable to meet her eyes as well. She could barely hear anything except the sharp sting of a few remarks.

“What’s the matter, artichoke? Couldn’t get rid of the green, so you thought you’d add some pink to blend in?”

“Pink is for pretty girls, not freaks like you!”

“Pink and green? What are you supposed to be now? A watermelon?”

Elphaba stood there while they laughed at her, unable to move, unable to think. Her head throbbed as she looked up and saw the empty bucket strung up above her head.  Tears welled up in her face and despite how hard she tried to stop it, a tiny drop fell down her cheek. Instinctively she reached a hand up to wipe away the tear, but her touch only caused the pink paint to smear on her face, making her feel even more exposed and humiliated. She looked to Madame Morrible for help, who looked shocked as well. Her eye contact seemed to jerk the headmistress into action.

“Enough, students. Let us maintain some semblance of decorum. Such disruptions have no place in these hallowed halls.” Her instruction successfully quieted the loud laughter, only whispers and stifled laughter followed for a moment before it was silent. Elphaba stood there unsure of what to do next. Morrible turned to Elphaba. “I suggest you go and get yourself cleaned up immediately.” In the oppressive silence that followed, Elphaba remained frozen, her mind blank and her body stiff. The thickness of the paint, the cold weight of it like an anchor holding her in place. Her vision blurred and she could no longer make out the faces staring at her, everything muffled and distant.

In the quiet, a sudden sharp, rhythmic click of heels on the polished floor made its way to Elphaba’s ears. Slow, and distant at first, the sharp clicking grew louder and quicker. Her breath hitched in anticipation as the sound grew closer, and her vision cleared as she allowed the tears building up in her eyes to fall. That was when she saw her. Glinda, blonde hair bouncing in time with each determined step she took towards Elphaba. As Glinda reached her, her face was a mask of calm composure, though she couldn’t hide the crease in between her eyebrows. Elphaba swallowed as the blonde stopped right in front her. A part of Elphaba feared that the easy banter and light conversation as of late had all been a ruse, a way to soften her up for the sting of this moment, and she waited with bated breath for the blow to follow. Glinda extended her hand, delicate fingers trembling so slightly only Elphaba could see.

“Here,” she said, her voice soft and quiet. “Let me help you.” Elphaba looked into Glinda’s eyes; they held a sincerity that felt both foreign and familiar. She hesitated a moment and Glinda spoke again, “Elphaba, please.” Elphaba looked down at the olive branch extended to her and slowly slipped her hand into Glinda’s. The blonde let out a breath of air and gave Elphaba’s hand a gentle, yet reassuring squeeze. She allowed herself to be led away, and as they walked past the crowd, the whispers began to rise again. Elphaba paid them no mind, and instead focused on the soft hand in hers and the steady presence Glinda offered her through the noise.

Chapter Text

Glinda didn’t let go of Elphaba’s hand until they reached their shared bathroom. It was a small space, but like the rest of Shiz, elegant. To the left was a sink, its counter polished with a deep granite finish, and a mirror framed in ornate gold. Across from it stood the tub, which Glinda loved. It was a classic porcelain clawfoot, the epitome of class.

Glinda turned to Elphaba but neither of them spoke. The silence after the moment on stage still hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. For the first time in her life, Glinda felt uncertain. Her friendship with Elphaba—if one could even call it that—was still new, and she was afraid that one wrong move could unravel it all.

 Her eyes scanned the bathroom for a way to start. The sink? She could do that. The tub seemed smarter, but more… personal. She wasn’t sure if Elphaba would be comfortable with that. Glinda glanced at Elphaba, standing rigid in the doorway, pink paint covering her column dress. She wasn’t sure if the dress could be salvaged. The real issue though, would be Elphaba’s hair, which was completely covered in paint. Her arms were a mess too, but her legs had avoided most of the paint. Glinda took another look at Elphaba’s hair and decided it would need the most attention. Tub it is then, she thought.

“Let’s get this water warmed up for you.” Glinda said as she reached for the faucet and turned it on. As the water ran, she looked back to Elphaba, who was not meeting her gaze. She stood with one arm over the other, head looking down at her feet. Glinda stepped towards her, reaching to touch Elphaba’s arm. She startled and flinched back before finally meeting Glinda’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I—” Elphaba’s words trailed off and she looked pointedly away.

“It’s okay,” Glinda said quickly. “You don’t have to apologize.” Elphaba met her gaze. Slowly, Glinda extended her hands, palms up—a quiet offer, nothing more. Elphaba glanced down at the hands in front of her. Glinda’s breath caught, the memory of the stage rushing back: heart racing, hands trembling, and relief when Elphaba’s hand slipped into hers. She exhaled when she felt Elphaba’s soft hands brush against hers. Elphaba’s hands twitched in her own, and Glinda gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

 “Here,” Glinda guided Elphaba to sit on the tub’s edge. Then, she turned her attention to the cabinet beneath the sink, searching for a cloth to wipe away the paint. Once she found one, she sat beside Elphaba and reached for the running water. Satisfied with its temperature, she plugged the drain to begin filling the tub. She held the washcloth under the stream, letting it soak up the water before turning her attention back to Elphaba. Glinda’s chest tightened at the sight of vivid pink streaks against her face. Slowly, she lifted the cloth, hesitating as she brought it to Elphaba’s cheek. She paused, tilting her head in a silent question. Elphaba’s eyes darted away, flickering to the stained-glass window over the tub. She was still for a moment, then she nodded faintly—a gesture so small Glinda might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching so intently. Carefully, she leaned closer, the damp cloth brushing Elphaba’s skin. She dabbed at the paint in slow, tender strokes. As she worked, Elphaba’s eyes drifted back to hers. Her expression was soft, unreadable—and yet, searching.

“Y’know,” Glinda said lightly, “this isn’t exactly the spa day I had in mind for us.”  Elphaba’s lips twitched, the faintest sign of a smile. A moment later, a soft laugh escaped her, and the tension in her shoulders eased.

“You pictured us having a spa day together?” she said incredulously. Glinda opened her mouth in mock indignation, her eyes wide, a playful glint in them, and a slight curve of her lips.

“What? A girl can’t daydream about a relaxing afternoon with her new friend?” Glinda said. The smile on Elphaba’s face faltered, her expression clouding over with something quieter.

“We haven’t exactly been friends though, have we?” Elphaba’s voice wavered, and Glinda looked away from her, head dropping in shame. She couldn’t meet Elphaba’s gaze and turned her attention back to the bath, her fingers brushing against the edge of the tub as the water continued to rise. When the water reached her fingers, she switched the faucet off and swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking.

“I know,” she said, her voice quiet. “But that’s all about to change. I’ve…” she paused, searching for the right words. “Grown fond of our back-and-forth.”

“I have too, I’ll admit.” Elphaba glanced away, her cheeks darkening. Glinda couldn’t hide the wide smile that spread across her lips. She reached out and rested her hand on Elphaba’s shoulder. The moment lingered for a moment before Glinda cleared her throat.

“Well…” She said, not completely sure how she was going to convince Elphaba to actually get in the bath. She gestured towards the water. “It’s ready for you.” Glinda watched as Elphaba hesitated, her eyes flickering toward the tub and back to Glinda, but not meeting her gaze. She shifted on the edge of the tub, fingers playing with the hem of her dress. Elphaba was stiff again, as though the tension never left her earlier. Glinda watched as her eyes glanced once more back to the water, her lips formed a tight line and Glinda knew: Elphaba didn’t want to take her dress off in front of her.

“I don’t think I—” Elphaba began.

“Keep your dress on, if you want!” Glinda interrupted. “It’s ruined anyway, what harm could it do getting wet?” She shrugged with an understanding smile. Elphaba met her eyes, her lips twisting into an embarrassed smile before she wordlessly slid into the water, fully clothed. Glinda bit her lip, holding back the surprised laugh rising in her belly. Guess that’s how we’re doing this, she thought, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. There was something oddly endearing about Elphaba’s defiance of convention, a kind of subtle rebellion that stirred something—admiration, maybe—in Glinda.

Glinda reached for the pitcher by the tub and filled it with water before carefully pouring it over Elphaba’s head. She watched as some of the paint trickled down her hair, thankful that it hadn’t had enough time to dry. She filled the pitcher in before pouring it over Elphaba again, the paint starting to dissipate from her roots. Glinda decided on one more pour before working her hands through Elphaba’s hair. Her fingers worked through the dark curls, careful not to pull too hard where she felt a tangle. Elphaba’s hair was softer than she’d imagined, and she thought of what it might be like to run her hands through it in a different scenario. One that didn’t start out so horribly, maybe they’d be getting ready to go to the Peach and Kidneys and Elphaba would allow her to fix her hair up. She smiled at the thought; she’d just have to figure out how to actually get Elphaba to the pub with her. She imagined Elphaba, just for one night, letting herself have fun.

 After she finished with the tangles and rinsing the leftover paint from Elphaba’s hair, she looked to her shampoo bottles. She bent over the tub so that her face was in front of Elphaba’s.

“Lavender or honeysuckle?” Glinda asked.

“What do you mean?” Elphaba responded.

“For your hair,” Glinda said lightly. “I have lavender and honeysuckle; which do you prefer?”

“That’s not necessary,” Elphaba said, her voice soft and hesitant. “I have my own shampoos, you don’t have to—” She trailed off.

“Elphaba. I want to give you the full Glinda treatment,” she said and Elphaba rolled her eyes. Glinda gasped dramatically and lifted a hand to her chest; the Glinda treatment was very serious business.

“Oh, fine,” Elphaba resigned. “Lavender,” she said after a moment.

“Good choice,” Glinda hummed. “Lavender is my favorite.” She winked before leaning back up and grabbing the bottle. She poured a little in her hand and began working it into Elphaba’s curls. As she massaged Elphaba’s scalp, Glinda felt her relax under her touch, a small sigh escaping her lips—soft and quiet. The sound rooted her in place, her hands stilling as warmth bloomed in her chest. For a fleeting moment, she felt something shift, as though she’d stepped into unfamiliar territory with her. She blinked, then resumed her work. In that moment she felt Elphaba’s trust—a quiet, tentative thing, but real. She smiled, savoring the feel of her hands in Elphaba’s hair.  After her hair was shampooed and conditioned to Glinda’s satisfaction, she rinsed it. She used her hand to block the water from running into Elphaba’s eyes and felt a hand on her arm.

“Thank you,” Elphaba said with a quiet sincerity before letting go. Glinda smiled warmly as she ran her hand through Elphaba’s hair once more

It was late afternoon in one of the cafés on campus, where Glinda had planned to swindle Elphaba into going to the pub. The two girls and Nessa sat tucked away at a corner table: Elphaba engrossed in a newspaper, Nessa quietly nursing a hot chocolate, and Glinda plotting.  Since their moment in the bathroom, Glinda had been determined to coax Elphaba out of her comfort zone. Now, with Nessa as her unwitting accomplice, she knew that her moment had come. Elphaba’s face was buried in her paper, eyebrows scrunched in a tight line, and her lips set in a familiar scowl. Glinda let out a dramatic sigh to break the silence.

“Whatever does Miss Glinda need?” Elphaba asked, voice dry as bone, and her eyes never leaving the page. Nessa perked up from her seat, watching the two of them with curiosity. Glinda rolled her eyes and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“I just wish you’d change your mind about tonight, is all,” Glinda pouted, cradling her chin in her hands. She sighed again, this time with exaggerated melancholy. The corners of her mouth twitched, betraying her efforts to suppress a grin.

“What’s happening tonight?” Nessa chimed in, looking from Glinda to her sister. Elphaba finally folded the paper with a snap and set it down on the table. Glinda smiled knowingly at her, meeting her roommate’s sharp gaze.

“Glinda thinks she can convince me to go out to a pub with her.” Elphaba said flatly, her voice tinged with boredom. Glinda let out a theatrical groan.

“It’s my last night before I leave for home,” Glinda whined, crossing her arms on the table and letting her head drop with a flourish. She sighed loudly for effect, sneaking a glance at Elphaba as she lifted her head again. Elphaba’s narrow eyes were fixed on her, but the slight curve of her lips suggested she wasn’t entirely immune to Glinda’s charm. Seizing her moment, Glinda turned her attention to Nessa, “Why don’t you come along?” She asked brightly, confident she was one step closer to victory. Nessa’s face lit up.

“Oh, I would love to!” Nessa said eagerly. She turned towards Elphaba with a practiced air of innocence. Tilting her head ever so slightly, her wide brown eyes twinkled with childlike earnestness. Her lips turned up in a soft, coaxing smile. “Please?” It was the kind of look only a younger sister could perfect, the look of someone who already knew the answer was yes. Oh, she’s good, Glinda thought, as she smirked at Elphaba and quirked her eyebrow in a playful challenge. She watched Elphaba falter under their combined pressure. Elphaba’s gaze darted between the two of them before landing on Glinda again, expression skeptical but resigned. She let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Oh alright!” Elphaba huffed. Nessa squealed, clapping her hands in delight. Glinda shot Elphaba a triumphant wink. Shaking her head, Elphaba rolled her eyes and picked up the paper once more. “The two of you are dangerous together,” she muttered under her breath.

Later that night, the girls walked to the Peach and Kidneys, the air crisp and cold. Glinda kept bumping Elphaba’s shoulder, trying to stay near her for warmth. Elphaba didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, Glinda, I’m so excited! Thank you for inviting me out tonight,” Nessa exclaimed as she wheeled a little ahead of them. Glinda chuckled and nudged Elphaba.

“Of course,” she replied. “It’ll be good to have some fun before we’re all separated.” She glanced at Elphaba, who, despite her earlier protests, was wearing a soft smile as she watched her sister.

They entered the lively pub, its warm glow a welcome contrast to the cold air outside. Glinda scanned the room for an open table and spotted one by the bar. Nudging Elphaba, she tilted her head in its direction. Elphaba bent down to whisper something to Nessa before pointing toward the booth. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, Glinda grabbed Elphaba’s arm, afraid to lose her in the chaos. Before they reached the booth, a voice rang out over the crowd, catching Glinda’s attention.

“Miss Elphaba!” She turned to see a munchkin boy—Biq? Boq?—standing on a chair, waving. Elphaba stopped and waved back.

“Let’s go see the boys,” Nessa suggested, her face lighting up. Elphaba glanced at Glinda, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Glinda shrugged and tilted her head toward the boy, and the three of them made their way over. As they reached the table Glinda recognized some of the other boys sitting around it: Avaric, Crope, and Tibbett. They sat at a table by a window, with a cushioned booth on one side and chairs on the other. She offered a polite smile.

“Hello, ladies.” Avaric slurred from his spot in the booth, voice thick with drink. Crope and Tibbett, who looked like they had just been in a heated discussion, turned towards group. Crope tilted his head and Tibbett waved.

“Miss Glinda!” The munchkin exclaimed, face beaming as if he’d just noticed her. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Yes, it’s good to see you, Biq,” Glinda replied, nodding at the others, “Avaric, Crope, Tibbett.” Elphaba coughed softly, leaning close to Glinda’s ear.

“It’s Boq, Glinda,” she whispered, amused. Glinda’s breath hitched at the warm feeling of breath against her skin. Her cheeks burned instantly. She turned sharply toward the bar, hoping the dim lighting hid her flushed cheeks.

“Hello, Boq,” she heard Nessa say, bashful and soft. Elphaba met Glinda’s eyes and tilted her head towards the two with a slight roll of her eyes. Glinda giggled at her roommate and her chest tightened. She glanced away and scanned the crowd, biting her lip—thinking of Elphaba’s mouth so close to her ear. She forced herself to focus. It was just a friend leaning in, nothing unusual. Nothing intimate. Nothing that should make her heart race.  Pull yourself together, she chastised. A tug on her arm snapped her back to the present. Elphaba was already sitting in the booth, and Glinda slid in beside her, body pressed close to her new friend. After a moment, Crope and Tibbett stood from their chairs.

“Who’s thirsty?” Crope said, grinning. “Tibbett and I will fetch us a round. Ladies’ choice.” He said and Glinda perked up.

“A couple bottles of wine,” she said, her voice bright and matter of fact. “Something we can all share.”

“Coming right up!” Tibbett saluted and he and Crope made their way to the bar. Glinda sighed contentedly, feeling at ease surrounded by the others and the ambient noise of the pub. She leaned towards Nessa, who was having an animated conversation with Boq about different shops around town. She quickly joined in, offering her opinions on her favorite places to shop and eat. It wasn’t too long before Crope and Tibbett returned to the table with wine for everyone to share. Tibbett poured a glass and handed it to Glinda, who took a drink of it, savoring the flavor, and enjoying the warmth it brought to her belly. She leaned into Elphaba.

“Are you going to have a glass? It’ll help you loosen up.” She said.

“I might be convinced,” Elphaba said, curious but unsure. “If it doesn’t taste too bad.” Glinda excitedly held her glass up to Elphaba.

“Here, try it!” She said lightly. Elphaba looked at the glass in front of her, then glanced at Glinda, who smiled warmly at her. She hesitated before taking a tentative sip. Elphaba’s brow furrowed, a frown forming as the taste hit her tongue. She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Well?” Glinda questioned.

“Hmm,” she murmured. She looked at Glinda with her verdict, “It’s not bad,” she said. Elphaba gave Glinda her glass back and looked at Tibbett. “Tibbett! Pour me a glass as well if you don’t mind.” Tibbett happily obliged, handing Elphaba a full glass. When Crope and Tibbett sat back down, Glinda remembered their heated faces when they first arrived.

“What were you two discussing before we arrived?” Glinda asked, nodding toward Crope and Tibbett. Avaric groaned and rolled his eyes.

“They were discussing the topic of evil.” Boq replied.

“Yes, a topic most enjoyable for a night at the bar,” Avaric added, his voice oozing sarcasm.

“I find that to be quite an interesting topic,” Elphaba said. “Are people born evil or are they made evil?” Elphaba’s question seemed to set the boys off once more, who sat up excitedly.

“Oh, yawn!” Glinda chimed in before anyone could answer Elphaba’s question. “Evil exists in the world, who cares how it comes to be?” She said with a shrug, her tone light and dismissive.

“You might have a point,” Elphaba said, twinkle in her eyes. “Evil does exist; shouldn’t we discuss how to deal with it, rather than how it exists?” A slight smile curved on her face as she glanced at Glinda, the expression sending a flutter of gratification through Glinda’s stomach. Elphaba turned back to the rest of the table, her gaze steady as she re-engaged in the discussion. Crope said something in response, but Glinda didn’t hear it. Her focus was entirely on Elphaba. She had never seen Elphaba like this outside the walls of their dorm—relaxed posture, excitement in her eyes, engaging the others with ease. Watching her was magnetic. She wasn’t trying to entertain or impress, yet somehow, she was. Glinda’s gaze lingered, tracing the slight quirk of Elphaba’s lips when she agreed with someone, the way her eyes narrowed with precision when she didn’t.

It struck her, then, how little she knew about Elphaba. They had their way of interacting with each other in the privacy of their dorm, but this was different. She’d never seen her so animated, so… present.

How did I miss this before?

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it had always been there, and Glinda had been too self-absorbed to notice. Her heart quickened with the realization that she’d been staring for too long. Elphaba’s eyes flicked toward her, catching her stare. Glinda blinked and quickly glanced away, a soft heat rising in her cheeks. She heard Boq say something about killing; she wasn’t sure of the context, but she seized her chance to jump in.

“All I know is that I dress to kill,” she chimed in, tossing her hair with a playful smirk. The group erupted into laughter; the kind that made her chest swell with satisfaction. She glanced back at Elphaba, catching the smirk tugging at her lips. Glinda winked, and to her delight, Elphaba’s smirk deepened into something more amused—almost approving. She smiled to herself, a quiet thrill buzzing under her skin as the conversation moved on. Despite herself, her attention kept drifting back to Elphaba. Her long fingers wrapped loosely around her glass as she quipped back and forth with Crope and Tibbett, her sharp wit gleaming through every exchange. Glinda leaned closer without realizing, drawn in by the cadence of Elphaba’s voice.

Glinda tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still watching. Not only was she completely enraptured by the way Elphaba carried conversation, but also by the way she carried herself—calm, confident, unbothered by the opinions of the others. Glinda found herself captivated, leaning a little closer with each passing moment.

As the night wore on, the pub’s lively hum softened gradually. The bartender was now focused on wiping glasses rather than making drinks. Conversation around their table began to die down. The exchanges that included everyone began to taper off, giving way to side conversations. Avaric’s head was laid on the table; Crope and Tibbett were whispering quietly to each other. Glinda stifled a yawn.

“Are you ready to go?” Elphaba said, and Glinda nodded. Elphaba turned her attention towards the group to announce their exit. “We’d better head out before it gets too late,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet of the group. Glinda stood and waited for Elphaba to rise from the booth. Avaric stirred at the commotion, head raising groggily as Glinda offered her farewell.

“Goodbye,” Glinda said to the table. “Thank you for the wine and riveting debates. Truly unforgettable.” Avaric wobbled as he attempted an exaggerated bow, his speech slurred beyond recognition.

“Please, whenever you ladies want our company, we will happily provide!” Crope said as he patted Avaric’s back. The rest of the boys muttered their goodbyes as well and Glinda, Elphaba, and Nessa made their exit. The cold breeze outside hit Glinda like a brick, and she pulled her shawl tighter as they walked. As before, Nessa wheeled ahead of them, eager to get back to the warmth of Shiz. Her silence left Glinda and Elphaba in their own little bubble.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Glinda said just loud enough for Elphaba to hear.

“I did,” Elphaba said warmly, her voice softer than usual. “Thank you for forcing me to come.” She laughed, and Glinda, feeling courageous from the slight wine buzz, linked her arm with Elphaba’s. Tomorrow she’d be leaving for Frottica, far from all this. She had just strengthened her growing connection to Elphaba. She wasn’t ready to leave it, not even for a few weeks.  A small part of her wanted to stay, to keep learning all Elphaba’s quirks and charms. She pushed the thought away, there was no need to dwell on the time she would spend away. Better to focus on the here and now—the way her arm felt linked with Elphaba’s, and the warmth that spread through her whole body, despite the cold.

The quiet of her family estate in the countryside felt different from the bustling atmosphere of Shiz. She arrived not too long ago; her parents were excited to see her and quickly brought her things inside. She lingered, stepping into the garden, listening to the whistles of the evening birds, and taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. As much as she missed school, she loved being back home, surrounded by fields stretching for miles, the small market town not too far from the estate. She sighed as the sun dipped under the horizon and walked inside.

The next morning, her mother was in the kitchen bustling about, preparing breakfast. Glinda settled on a countertop, engaging pleasantries with her mother. They talked about the goings on in Pertha Hills and exchanging gossip. They made their way into the dining room when her mother finished cooking. Her father was sitting at the table with a newspaper, and Glinda smiled, her mind taking her back to the café a couple of days ago. Her father bid her good morning, and she leaned over to kiss his cheek before sitting down. She absentmindedly pushed her food around the plate, her thoughts lingered on two nights ago—or more accurately, on Elphaba. Everything had been so simple with her after that night in the bathroom, the connection felt effortless, as if they had been friends this whole time. Glinda ached to know what Elphaba was up to now, though she had a good idea. She pictured her perched in the library, a book open in front of her and a coffee on the table.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, darling,” her father’s voice cut through her daydreaming. “Something on your mind?” She blinked, meeting his gaze.

“Oh, nothing, just thinking of school.” She replied easily.

Later, she walked through the garden, looking at the flowers blooming. She bent down and touched the petals of a winter pansy. Beautiful flower, she thought as she brushed her fingers along its petals. She wondered if Elphaba might like the dark purple pansies—something about their deep, velvety petals and bright yellow center made Glinda think of her. She imagined Elphaba walking through the garden with her, stopping to look at a flower, face lighting up before announcing it as her favorite. Then, Glinda would take her arm as they’d make their way through the garden. She stopped and shook her head. She’d barely spent any time with Elphaba, and here she was, thinking of the girl nonstop when she was supposed to be having a relaxing holiday away from Shiz. Stop, she told herself, it’s been two days, get a grip.

Back inside her childhood room, after a few hours at the market with her mother, Glinda sat by the window. The sun was casting a beautiful orange haze over the estate. She tapped her fingers on her chin, the peaceful quiet of her home surrounded her, yet she couldn’t stop the longing in her chest. She missed Elphaba, more than she wanted to admit. With a huff, she rose from her spot by the window and walked to a desk where she pulled out some parchment, perhaps if she just wrote to Elphaba she would stop thinking about her so much. She sat at her desk, staring at the blank page for a moment before she began to write.

Dearest Elphie,

Is it alright if I call you Elphie?

Chapter Text

Elphaba sat in a quiet corner of the library. It was completely empty except for her, the only noise coming from the quiet tick of a clock. Spring semester was set to begin in a couple days, and most students who were already back on campus weren’t nearly as interested in getting a head start as Elphaba was. Several books were spread out in front of her as she tried to pick a few that might be useful in her classes. After spending the last few weeks working diligently with Dr. Dillamond, she knew she should probably take a break, but Elphaba refused to be anything but prepared for the first day of classes. A small smile tugged at her lips. She could hear Glinda now—Elphie, it wouldn’t kill you to take one day off. As strange as it was to admit, having nothing to do was a little less fun without her bubbly roommate around to argue with. Elphaba used to bask in time alone at the dorm, but the last few weeks had been too quiet, and she found herself missing Glinda and her antics. Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Glinda’s letters.

I think of you every day.

The words clung to Elphaba, like ivy to stone, persistent, seeping into every corner of her mind. Glinda, as it turned out, was… exceedingly affectionate in her letters. The way her words made Elphaba’s heart flutter was a new and startling development. She wasn’t used to having friends, especially female friends, and certainly not ones who expressed themselves so freely. It was hard to say if this was how all friendships with women worked, but she was going with it, as strange as it might feel.

A resounding chime pulled Elphaba from her thoughts. She glanced at the clock, her heart quickening as she realized Glinda would arrive within the hour. With a sudden burst of energy, she grabbed a few books from the table—barely noticing which ones—and hurried back to her dorm.

Back in her room, Elphaba frantically cleaned—a task she rarely bothered with. Glinda was the tidy one; Elphaba was more accustomed to a little clutter. Her books were scattered on her desk, papers stacked in disorganized piles. She scooped up the books and stacked them with haste, then quickly straightened the papers. But after a moment, she picked the books up again, moving them to the other corner of the desk, unsure where to put them. Scanning the room, her eyes landed on Glinda’s bed, and she scrambled to smooth the covers of her own bed, straightening the pillow with unnecessary urgency. Where does Glinda keep the duster?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Elphaba startled. Has it already been an hour? And since when does Glinda knock? Her heart raced as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and straightened her clothes before answering the door.

“Hey, Elphaba,” Nessa said as she wheeled into the room.

“Nessa,” Elphaba greeted, quickly shutting the door behind her. She flicked her eyes around the room, still searching for the duster. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Boq still hasn’t come by, and I was so bored last night after we had dinner. I need to socialize after spending three weeks with Father,” Nessa said. Elphaba nodded in understanding. Nessa was the light of Frexspar’s life, and to her, he could be suffocating; Elphaba, on the other hand, was often overlooked. Both drained by their father, but in two completely different ways.

“Well, you know Father, he’s very loving,” Elphaba said dryly. “Aha!” She finally found the duster on top of Glinda’s wardrobe and rushed over to grab it. She started with the window over Glinda’s bed before moving to the comforter, dusting it as if she needed to clean every inch of the room.

“What are you doing?” Nessa asked, perplexed. Elphaba stopped what she was doing and turned to face Nessa, lifting the duster up.

“Dusting,” Elphaba said, her eyebrow arched in confusion. Her sister stared at her for a moment before laughing. “Well, you do it then!” With an exasperated huff, Elphaba dropped the duster in Nessa’s lap and walked to her own bed, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of the pillowcase.

“Elphaba, what’s wrong?” Nessa said, wheeling to Elphaba’s bed and putting her hand on her arm.

“It’s nothing,” Elphaba said. Her sister gave her a knowing look and raised her eyebrow. Elphaba sighed and sat on her bed, facing Nessa. “Glinda is going to be back soon, and I wanted everything to be perfect for her arrival.”

“I’m sure dusting her bed isn’t something Glinda needs,” Nessa chuckled. “Though it’s a nice thought,” she added for reassurance. “I think she’ll just be happy to be back.” Nessa smiled.

“You’re probably right,” Elphaba said. A flutter stirred in her chest, something familiar and unsettling, and she abruptly stood from the bed. “Do you think I should meet her at the train station?” Elphaba started pacing the room, suddenly second guessing her actions. “Or maybe I shouldn’t. Surely, she would have said something in her letters, and she didn’t mention it at all. But maybe she expects me to be there. Or maybe it’s weird to assume she would want me there. Who’s going to carry her bags?” Nessa laughed and rolled her eyes fondly, used to Elphaba’s spiraling.

“I think you should do what feels natural,” she offered.

“You’re right, it would be weird,” Elphaba said pragmatically.

“That’s not exactly what I—”

“You don’t think she’ll be upset if I don’t show up right? I know she’s missed me, and I’ve missed her, but…” Elphaba looked at her sister for help, eyes pleading.

“Well first of all, you need to stop pacing before you burn a hole in the floor,” Nessa said. Elphaba let out a light laugh and took a deep breath. “When is Glinda supposed to arrive?”

“Any minute now, I’m sure,” Elphaba replied.

“Okay, so do you think you even have time go to the station?” Nessa asked. Elphaba hadn’t even considered that, too worried about doing the wrong thing or acting weird.

“Well… no.”

“Okay then,” Nessa said, her voice warm and grounding. “So, stay here and be happy when Glinda arrives. Just stop cleaning, you’re doing a terrible job at it.” They both laughed, and Elphaba released the tension in her shoulders and back. She went to her sister and bent down for a tight hug.

“Thank you, Nessa,” she said.

“Oh, Elphaba, what would you do without me?” Nessa said and squeezed her back. After a moment, they pulled away from the hug. “I better get going. I’ll see you later.” Elphaba walked her sister to the door and waved her out. She shut the door and leaned against it, exhaling a long sigh of relief.

Elphaba sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers fidgeting restlessly, and her leg bouncing with a rhythm she couldn’t control, as she anxiously awaited her roommate’s arrival. Each breath felt shallow, as if the air around her was too thick to break through. As the time passed, her heart rate quickened, and a lump formed in her throat. She took a deep breath in, and exhaled, remembering the words her sister said to her: Do what feels natural. The silence around her was suffocating, amplifying every small sound; the breeze brushing against the window, the beat of her heart in her chest. And then…

A soft click of heels echoed in the hall. Her heart skipped a beat. It was a sound she’d grown accustomed to, but it had never made her feel so nervous—so excited. She wiped her clammy hands on her skirt, trying to ground herself but each click of the heels sent a jolt of nervous energy through her veins. The air grew thick, and she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips in anticipation. The click of the doorknob echoed through the room and her body tensed, bracing itself. The door creaked open, and her breath caught as she saw a flash of blonde hair.

“Glinda!” She exclaimed as she stood from the bed. She quickly made her way to her roommate and stopped in front of her, unsure of what to do with her energy. Glinda’s smile was radiant, and a surge of warmth curled its way through Elphaba’s body.

“Oh, Elphie,” Glinda said, her arms already outstretched toward Elphaba. Panicking, Elphaba instinctively stuck out her hand. Glinda paused, arms still open, and glanced down at the hand in front of her. Her eyes flickered between Elphaba’s face and the awkwardly extended hand. With a soft laugh, she took it, resulting in what might be the world’s most awkward handshake. So much for not being weird, she thought.

“It’s good to see you,” Elphaba said, hand still moving up and down. The room felt unbearably hot, and she wasn’t sure when she was supposed to let go. Glinda cleared her throat.

“It’s good to see you too,” she said softly. Her eyes flickered down to their hands, and Elphaba suddenly worried her palms were too sweaty. She quickly pulled her hand away.

“Well, let me help you with your things.” Elphaba bent down and grabbed the bags at Glinda’s feet, carrying them over to the blonde’s side of the room. Once she sat them down, she turned toward Glinda again, who stood stiffly by the door, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “So, how was your break?” Elphaba asked, words feeling forced, like they were dragged out of her.

“It was good. Really good,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “You?”

“Mine was good too, I…” Elphaba’s voice faltered and trailed off. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words lodged in her throat, heavy and unyielding. She watched Glinda’s movements, fingers anxiously tapping the strap of her bag. “Yeah,” she said, a breathless, almost uncomfortable sound. Elphaba glanced at her shoes, the silence between them awkward and heavy, a far cry from the way things had been before the holiday break.

“Okay, well, I think I’m going to go freshen up,” Glinda said, her tone tentative as she stepped toward the bathroom. She paused briefly to hang her bag on a chair. “We should probably get something to eat, if you want to go after I’m finished?” Her tone was hesitant, without the usual air of confidence and charm, and Elphaba’s stomach twisted in a tight, uncomfortable knot.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she said, smile tight and thin. Then she added quickly, desperate for an escape from the awkward tension between them, “I’ll go and fetch Nessa, I’m sure shell want to join. We can meet you there.” Glinda nodded, giving her a small, tentative smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

 Elphaba let out a sigh and walked over to her bed, collapsing on it with a frustrated groan, wishing she had a redo. Her reunion with Glinda had been a disaster; awkward, stilted, and everything she had desperately hoped to avoid. Her stomach twisted in knots—all she wanted was for things to feel normal again. She wished she could have easily slipped back into the rhythm that had developed between them before Glinda left. Biting the inside of her cheek, she rolled off the bed and straightened herself up. She’d move forward, fetch Nessa, meet with Glinda, and somehow fix the mess she’d made.

As Elphaba neared Nessa’s room, her pace quickened. She stormed down the hall, boots clicking more aggressively than she intended.

“Smooth, Elphaba,” she muttered under her breath. “Very smooth. Why not just insult the girl directly next time?” She huffed and ran a hand through her hair. Stepping in front of Nessa’s door, she knocked forcefully. “It’s me.” Crossing her arms, she tapped her foot impatiently against the floor. She heard Nessa’s voice faintly through the door, telling her to come inside. Elphaba pushed the door open. Her sister was sitting at her desk, and she turned toward Elphaba in surprise.

“You look upset,” she deadpanned.

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Elphaba said. “Glinda’s been back for all of five minutes, and I’ve completely botched it.” Nessa sighed and wheeled her chair closer.

“You’re overthinking it.”

“Overthinking it?” Elphaba scoffed. “I shook her hand, Nessa,” her voice rose in frustration. “Who does that?” She threw her hands up in the air and began pacing, agitation evident in every step. Nessa remained silent, and Elphaba stopped, crossing her arms in front of her and lowering her head. “It was foolish of me to think I could be friends with someone like her.”

“Oh, come on. You’re being too hard on yourself.” Nessa’s lips turned up in a reassuring smile. Elphaba sighed.

“I just… don’t know what to say to her, especially now.”

“Just be yourself,” Nessa said. Elphaba let out a sarcastic cackle and Nessa sighed, “Look, you need to get out of your head. Stop worrying about what to say or what to do and just. Relax.” The silence lingered in the air as Elphaba mulled over her sister’s words. She knew Nessa was right—if she could just get out of her head, then she could smooth things over with Glinda and, hopefully, things would go back to normal.

“Well, with you to act as a buffer between us at dinner, maybe I could find it easier to relax.” Elphaba’s voice trailed up, making it clear she was asking her sister to come to the dining hall with her. Nessa sighed and rolled her eyes affectionately.

“You’re so lucky to have me, you know that, right?” Elphaba rushed to her sister and enveloped her in a hug. Nessa giggled. “This is our chance to actually have some real friends besides Boq and Dr. Dillamond.” Elphaba laughed along with her, and with that, they got ready to leave.

As Elphaba and Nessa walked toward the dining hall, they spotted Glinda standing just outside. A lump formed in Elphaba’s throat when she saw her standing stiffly by the door. Their eyes met, and Glinda’s face brightened.

“Elphie!” She called, her bright voice rang out. She quickly crossed the space between them and placed a gentle hand on Elphaba’s arm. “I thought I’d have to stage a rescue mission.” Warmth spread where Glinda’s hand rested, and Elphaba’s mind went blank. Her hand lingered for a moment before it pulled away.

“Well, you know Elphaba,” Nessa cut in. “Always taking forever to get ready.” They both laughed, and Elphaba’s cheeks flushed, grateful for Nessa’s interruption.

“So true,” Glinda said, her eyes flicking from Elphaba to Nessa, a hint of humor in her smile.

“We can’t all be as naturally beautiful as others,” Elphaba said, glancing at Glinda. She noticed the faint pink in Glinda’s cheeks as the words left her mouth, and she immediately regretted them. She glanced down at her boots, hoping the heat in her own cheeks wasn’t obvious.

“I’m starving,” Nessa said, pulling Elphaba’s gaze from her boots back to her sister. “Let’s go,” she said. The three of them made their way inside the dining hall. The tension between Glinda and herself seemed to have dissipated some, and Elphaba was grateful for her sister. She was keenly aware of Glinda’s presence next to her as they walked. A soft hand brushed against hers, an ember, gone as quickly as it came, yet significant enough to light a fire in Elphaba’s chest. She glanced at Glinda, whose face was pointedly turned away, slight flush colored her cheek.

The dining hall was lively when they entered, filled with students eager to reconnect with their friends. Elphaba’s stomach growled as the aroma of food filled the air. The scent of freshly baked bread made her mouth water, and she quickened her pace. They were served a warm stew, tender meat with potatoes and carrots, and a loaf of bread. The girls found a table and sat down, ready to enjoy their meal. Nessa sat across from Elphaba, and Glinda settled in a chair close to Elphaba. They ate quietly at first before Nessa looked at Glinda and smiled.

“I hope your room was to your liking when you arrived,” she said, mischievous smile tugged her lips. Elphaba looked at Nessa with narrow eyes. “Elphaba was trying so hard to make it presentable for you. Nothing says ‘welcome back’ like freshly dusted bed sheets. She’s lucky I was there to save her from dusting the floor.”

“Really, Elphie, the bed sheets?” Glinda chuckled, leaning into Elphaba. Her cheeks flushed a darker shade of green.

“Forgive me for wanting you to be comfortable when you got back to our room,” Elphaba said, defiant.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts, right, Glinda?” Nessa teased.

“Yes,” Glinda agreed. She pinched Elphaba’s arm affectionately and winked, “it sounds like you have soft spot for me.” Her chest tightened at Glinda’s words, and for a moment, her focus faltered. You have no idea, she thought, her heart racing. Her thoughts turned towards the letters they sent each other back and forth over the holiday, each one leaving her more vulnerable to Glinda’s words. Glinda’s smile remained playful as she listened to Nessa, flipping her hair and laughing. Elphaba watched, her mouth going dry. She quickly reached for her drink, a slight tremble in her movement.

A snide remark floated across the table that caught Elphaba off guard—something about the pink paint from the banquet. The words were vague, and Elphaba didn’t quite catch them, but the laughter that followed hit her like the splash of the paint from weeks ago. She felt the sharp sting of that moment all over again, her grip tightened around her glass. She didn’t look up from the table, didn’t want to give anyone a reaction, or a reason to continue laughing at her. She looked up at the harsh sound of a chair scraping against the floor next to her. Glinda was suddenly standing, her posture straight and rigid, glaring at the culprits.

“Enough,” she said, and the room stilled, every eye pointed to Glinda. “Pink goes good with green!” she exclaimed, frustration clear in her tone. She stood, hands closed in fists next to her, looking around the room, daring someone to challenge her. Elphaba’s heart swelled as she watched her in awe. The dining hall was silent for a moment longer, and Glinda cleared her throat, straightening her clothes, before sitting back down. The chatter of students slowly kicked back up as everyone turned their attention away from Glinda. Elphaba hesitated for a moment, her heart fluttering with gratitude, before slipping her hand under the table to squeeze Glinda’s in thanks. Warmth filled her chest, a reminder of how Glinda made her feel all those weeks ago—safe and cared for.

After walking Nessa back, Elphaba and Glinda made their way towards their room. The hallway was dimly lit, the warm, golden glow casting shadows around them. The campus felt quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the day gone, leaving only the faint sound of their footsteps. Elphaba walked a little ahead, her thoughts lingering on the events of the day. Glinda lingered behind, walking slowly, her pace casual. Her heels clicked lightly against the floor behind Elphaba, filling the silence around them with a subtle sound. It was a comfortable silence, unlike earlier, and Elphaba was relieved that things had gone somewhat back to normal. They neared their room, the silence between them broke.

“I missed Shiz,” Glinda said quietly behind her. “It’s different here than at my family’s estate.” Elphaba slowed her pace until she was walking alongside Glinda.

“What’s your home like, anyway?” she asked. “You didn’t talk much about the estate in your letters.”

“Pertha Hills is small, homey, if you can imagine me being from a place like that,” Glinda said, smile tugging at her lips. “We live on the outskirts of town, surrounded by hills. My mother has a beautiful garden. You’d like it, I think.”

“Glinda Upland, small-town girl,” Elphaba teased, and Glinda swatted at her arm, laughing. They slowed as they neared their room. Elphaba reached for the door handle, her hand hovering just above it when she glanced over at Glinda. She stood farther away than Elphaba expected, her gaze drifting past Elphaba, as if her mind were elsewhere, unwilling to cross the threshold into their room just yet. “Glinda? Everything all right?” Elphaba asked, her voice softer now. Glinda blinked, and their eyes met. Her expression softened, caught between staying in the moment, or returning to their room, and ending the night.

“It’s nothing, I just…” Glinda trailed off, glancing past Elphaba again toward the window. “I don’t think I’m ready to go inside just yet.” Glinda met her eyes again, and a playful smile tugged at her lips.

“What?”

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested. “By the canal, it’s beautiful in the moonlight.” Elphaba hesitated.

“Isn’t it a little late for a walk?” she pointed out and Glinda groaned.

“Come on, Elphie, it’s just past eight. We’ll be back before curfew, I promise.” Elphaba gave her a skeptical look, and Glinda stepped closer, placing a hand on her wrist. “I just feel like I need to breathe after everything that happened today. Please, for me?” Glinda’s smile softened, her lashes fluttering as she looked at Elphaba—her expression irresistibly sweet.

“Oh, fine,” Elphaba gave in. “Lead the way.” Glinda’s smile grew, a playful gleam in her eyes as she lifted a shoulder, posture light and triumphant. Elphaba raised an eyebrow and followed her as she led the way down the hall, noticing the skip in her step that hadn’t been there before. As they stepped outside, the cool air wrapped around them. The campus was quiet and empty, the last few students heading back to their dorms or elsewhere. As they walked, the faint outline of the canal came into view, water shimmering gently in the moonlight.

On the path next to the canal, Elphaba admired the glow of the moon on its surface. The quiet sound of the water lapping against the edge was soothing, blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. The path was well-lit by streetlights, casting warm pools of light and guiding them forward. She watched the water as they walked, sparkling in the glow of the moon.

“Told you,” Glinda said, playfully bumping Elphaba’s shoulder. Distracted by the shimmering water, Elphaba didn’t see it coming, and the sudden motion caused her to stumble. Glinda quickly reached out to steady her before she fell. Elphaba’s breath caught as Glinda’s hands gripped her waist, her heart racing and making it hard to breathe. “Sorry,” Glinda murmured, a soft, breathy laugh escaping her lips. Elphaba swallowed hard, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she struggled to speak. Glinda released her waist, stepping back slightly.

“It’s okay,” Elphaba whispered, the words thick with a warmth she couldn’t control, her voice faltering. Her eyes flickered to Glinda, the moonlight reflecting in her eyes with a soft, silver glow. Her smile was small, content, and softened by the pale light of the moon. Elphaba's chest ached with longing, her heart fluttering, sharp and unexpected. A spark of light flickered deep within her. Before she could look away, Glinda’s eyes met hers and Elphaba was lost, adrift in her gaze.

“What?” Glinda asked, her smile warm, her features soft.

“The water’s beautiful,” Elphaba murmured. A light flush crept onto Glinda’s cheeks, and she hummed in agreement. Her smile lingered as she looked away, and Elphaba felt a pull in her chest.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while.  Ahead of them, a puddle lay in their path, and Elphaba instinctively grasped Glinda’s arm, pulling her closer to avoid it. Glinda gasped in surprise when Elphaba touched her, but she allowed herself to be pulled close.

“Don’t want to get your shoes wet,” Elphaba said lightly, releasing her arm.

“Definitely not these heels,” Glinda agreed with a laugh, tossing her hair the way she always did. Elphaba smiled warmly at her, and they stayed close as they walked. Elphaba’s gaze drifted to the water, and she felt the brush of Glinda’s hand against hers. Her heart skipped a beat, and she glanced at Glinda, feeling a sharp pang in her chest. Twice now, Glinda had stood up for her—something most people never bothered to do. She felt the warmth of her trust for Glinda growing, something she never thought she’d be able to say. She felt vulnerable next to Glinda, but more than that, she felt safe. Their hands brushed again, and Elphaba hesitated.

“Glinda,” she said, her voice soft and tentative. They stopped walking, and Glinda’s gaze met hers. Elphaba paused, collecting her thoughts. “I wanted to say thank you. For earlier. For… standing up for me.” Glinda blinked in surprise, her smile softening. Elphaba’s heart fluttered, and she rushed to continue, “I’m not used to someone caring about me like that… I—” her voice trailed off, but she quickly steadied herself. “You made me feel like I’m not alone.” Glinda didn’t respond immediately; her expression was unreadable, and Elphaba’s heart quickened, waiting for a reply. The silence stretched between them before Glinda finally spoke, voice quiet but sincere.

“You’re welcome.” After a moment, she added, “I do care for you, Elphie.” Her lips parted in a gentle smile, and Elphaba’s throat clenched.

 They continued their walk along the canal in silence. Again, Elphaba felt Glinda’s hand brush against hers, and this time she was overwhelmed by something thick, something burning. Her heart raced, but she barely registered the moment before Glinda’s hand was against hers again. This time, though, she didn’t pull away. Instead, Glinda slowly, carefully entwined their fingers. Warmth spread from their entwined hands up Elphaba’s arm, flooding her body in a slow, steady wave. She smiled and snuck a glance at Glinda, her gaze lingering on the curve of her lips, and committed the moment to memory.

Chapter Text

The Common Atrium, or simply the Commons, was a popular haunt among students during the winter, a refuge when the grounds outside were too cold and icy for leisurely strolls. Glinda appreciated the atmosphere, especially during the colder months, when the room felt like an oasis of warmth. A large stone fireplace crackled with a comforting glow, its flickering light casting soft shadows on the high, arched ceilings and warming the polished wood floors beneath.

Typically, Glinda and her friends would be nestled into the plush leather couches by the fire, sipping tea or chatting lazily. Today, they had chosen a quieter corner, retreating to the sunroom at the far end of the space. Glinda sat by the window nook, the glass panes cool to the touch as the light filtered in, casting long beams of light across the room. Pfannee and Shenshen lounged beside her. Outside, the grounds were covered in a thin layer of snow, the pale white contrasting the dark, leafless trees. It was not uncommon for Shiz this time of year, but Glinda preferred a heavier coating. At least then, there was a chance of classes being cancelled, and she could relax and enjoy the snow with her friends. As it was now, however, she had to trudge from class to class, careful to avoid icy patches. Vexatious work. Pfannee scoffed from beside her, drawing Glinda’s attention. She followed Pfannee’s gaze to the fireplace, where Boq and Nessa sat together, engaged in an animated conversation.

“Look at them,” Pfannee said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Practically glued to the hip. How charming, if you like your boyfriends mousy and pathetic.”

“He’s not her boyfriend, Pfannee, they’re just close,” Shenshen responded coolly. Then, with a smirk, she added, “though you’re right, he’s definitely too mousy to ask her to be his girlfriend.” They shared a laugh, sharp and laced with superiority.

“I think it’s sweet,” Glinda said, her tone quiet and thoughtful. “Not every relationship needs a label to be meaningful.”

“Says the girl who still hasn’t kissed Fiyero,” Shenshen said with a click of her tongue, and Pfannee laughed. Glinda’s face flushed a deep shade of pink.

“I have class, which is more than I can say for the two of you,” Glinda said pointedly.

“Speaking of Fiyero…” Pfannee’s voice pitched up, and Glinda looked towards the entrance of the room. Fiyero had just strutted in, and he was coming right for them. Pfannee and Shenshen both perked up in their seats, and Glinda fit her face with a practiced smile, one she’d worn a thousand times before in moments like this. When he reached them, he bent down and grabbed Glinda’s hand, bringing it to his lips. Her hand twitched slightly at the feel of his lips against it, and she suppressed the urge to pull away, the stubble on his chin scratching her in an uncomfortable way. Her smile, flawless in appearance, strained.

“Glinda,” he said as he stood, a smirk tugging his lips. “Ladies,” he said with a nod to Pfannee and Shenshen. The two fawned over his acknowledgment.

“Fiyero,” Glinda said, her voice high, playing up the role she’d perfected over the years. “It’s been so long, I almost thought you’d forgotten about me…” She looked away from him and forced her smile into something a little more bashful, her lips twitching slightly. Pfannee quickly scooted over as Fiyero gracefully sat down beside Glinda, snaking an arm around her shoulders. She flinched, almost imperceptible—she’d have to work on that. She straightened her back.

“I could never forget someone as beautiful as you,” Fiyero said, his voice laced thick with flirtation. “In fact, I came here just to find you.” He placed his fingers under Glinda’s chin and turned her head towards his. She met his gaze, trying hard not to focus on how his fingers felt under her chin, large and dirty.

“I suppose I could forgive you,” she said with a quick, polished smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes, and Fiyero smirked, releasing her. Her smile never wavered, but there was a subtle release of tension when his hand left her chin.

“I’m having a party, a birthday party, this weekend,” he said. He glanced around the room, and lowered his voice, moving closer to her. “At the Ozdust Ballroom. I want you to come, you and your friends.”

“We’d be delighted to come!” Pfannee interjected.

“I guess I could make an appearance,” Glinda said with a yawn, she knew how to play the part—pretty, pleasant, and coy. Fiyero gave her a winning smile and stood from his spot on the bench.

“I look forward to seeing you there,” he said with a wink before sauntering off. An almost imperceptible sigh escaped her as he walked away. Pfannee and Shenshen exchanged wide-eyed glances before clutching hands and squealing in excitement.

“Did you see the way he looked at us? This is going to be the party of the year!” Pfannee exclaimed.

“More like the decade! It’s legendary already and it hasn’t even happened yet!” Shenshen kicked her legs and squealed again.

“It’ll be hard to top Avaric’s ‘Fall Ball’, that was a party.” Glinda said, rolling her eyes at the name of the party. Avaric always threw an exceedingly grand party, but he was terrible at naming them. Makeout Masquerade was another ridiculous one, though watching Avaric trying to get almost every girl in attendance to kiss him was quite entertaining to watch. Pfannee placed her hand on Glinda’s and leaned forward.

“I was wondering when he was going to ask you, the whole school has been whispering about it all week.” Pfannee said. It was just like her to make something meaningless sound scandalocious.

“Of course, Pfannee, that’s just like you to make an invitation into a scandal,” Glinda said, playful enough to hide her slight irritation at the comment.

“Oh, it’s going to be so romantic!” Shenshen exhaled an exaggerated sigh, and her hand flew to her chest. “Imagine! He’ll ask you to dance, right in front of everyone, the music slows down, and… he kisses you! The crowd gasps in awe. You’ll be The It Couple at Shiz!” Glinda forced a smile, nodding as she swallowed her feelings. A low, sinking sensation churned in her stomach.  She’d been avoiding kissing Fiyero for a couple months now. It would be expected of her to allow him a kiss, especially at his own party. She tried to push aside her discomfort; Fiyero was a handsome guy, charming—maybe a tad arrogant. Other girls would kill to be in her position, but for whatever reason, her heart just wasn’t in it.

“I heard he’s having performers from the Emerald City!” Pfannee said.

“Do you think there’ll be champagne fountains?” Shenshen asked. Glinda felt her chest tighten as the conversation swirled around her. She was beginning to feel lightheaded, and before she could stop herself, she stood, fists clenched.

“You’ll have to excuse me, girls,” she said. They looked at her, confusion on their faces. “I… forgot a book in Dr. Lenx’s class! I’ll see you later!” She hurried away from them, desperate for air. When she made it out of the Commons and around the corner, she stopped and leaned her back against the wall, letting out a deep exhale.

The late afternoon sun was bright; it was a cloudless, cold day. The light cast long shadows on the cobblestone walkways, and a gentle breeze stirred her skirt. She barely noticed, her mind was still tangled, and her stomach was heavy with thoughts of Fiyero and the party. She pushed the feelings away and stepped away from the wall, onto the walkway, determined to take her mind off it all. Her feet carried her forward, more by instinct than by intention. As she walked along the familiar path, a few students nodded in passing, some exchanging greetings. She offered a polite smile and nod to all of them, though it was more of a reflex than anything genuine.

She continued walking, her footsteps softer as the path narrowed and a building began to come into view. The library’s grand, ivy-covered walls offered surprising comfort to Glinda. The library hadn’t been one of her typical haunts, not until recently. She paused for a moment outside the large oak doors, closing her eyes and letting out a slow breath. The weight in her chest lifted just slightly, tension easing with the anticipation of what she’d find inside. She opened the doors, knowing that, here, she’d find the calm she needed.

The library was quiet except for the soft flipping of a page, the distant thud of a heavy book being placed on a table and the muffled conversations of students studying. Glinda made her way towards the back, drawn to an alcove tucked away in the corner, where tall windows provided a view of the snow-dusted campus. She paused when she saw Elphaba. The afternoon light, filtered through the glass, bathed her green skin in a soft, almost ethereal glow, highlighting the sharp line of her jaw and the determined set of her brow as she read. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Glinda’s lips as she watched her, the tension that had clung to her earlier beginning to ease like a tight knot slowly loosening. A warmth spread through her chest, a feeling of finally being able to take a full, unburdened breath. She approached Elphaba, her footsteps hesitant on the polished wood floor.

“Elphaba?” she began. “Have you started on Lenx’s reading for next week? It’s dreadfully dull.” Elphaba looked up, a small smile on her lips.

“Duller than Professor Quadling’s lectures on the history of broomsticks?” Glinda managed a weak smile in return.

“Almost,” she said, her voice trailing off. Her gaze drifted toward the tall windows overlooking campus, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. She glanced back at Elphaba, whose eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. “Fiyero’s throwing a party this weekend!” Glinda said, her voice high pitched as she forced a wide grin.

“Yes, I heard…” Elphaba said, her smile fading as she observed Glinda shift her weight from one foot to the other, restless. “Glinda,” she said softly, her eyes searching Glinda’s face. “Is something the matter?” Glinda hesitated, her gaze shifting to her feet. She thought of Fiyero, his lips on her hand, arm around her shoulder. Then of the fantasy Shenshen had played out; Fiyero asking her to dance, kissing her. She quickly pushed the thoughts aside.

“It’s at the Ozdust Ballroom,” she said instead.

“The Ozdust?” Elphaba asked. “Isn’t that place off limits to students?”

“Yes!” Glinda responded quickly.

“Well, I’ve never known you to shy away from a social gathering.”

“I know, me neither,” Glinda let out a breathless laugh, fidgeting with her fingers. “Will you come with me?” Glinda asked, her voice almost pleading. Elphaba hesitated.

“I don’t know, Glinda,” she began. “Extravagant parties aren’t my thing, and I don’t want to get into trouble if we get caught. Besides, you’ll have Pfannee and Shenshen, right?” Glinda’s gaze fell to her feet—her friends would be there, yes, but something about being around Elphaba made her feel relaxed, whereas with the two of them, she always had to be on her A-game. She needed something—someone—to ground her, to help her feel at ease.

“I just…” Glinda’s voice dropped to a whisper, and she glanced up to meet Elphaba’s gaze. “I’d feel much more comfortable if I had you there with me.” Elphaba leaned forward slightly, her breath exhaling in a quiet sigh. Her eyes softened, the sharpness of her usual expression melting into something tender.

“I suppose I can’t refuse you,” Elphaba said, her voice soft.

“Thank you!” Glinda exclaimed, relief flooding her body and Elphaba smiled at her.

“Now, sit down,” she said. “I have something for you.” Glinda moved around the table to sit down next her, and Elphaba grabbed a book from the pile beside her. “Here,” she said as she handed it to Glinda. “I saw this and thought you might like it.” Her cheeks flushed a slight, dark tone and Glinda took the book from her. She read the title, The Philosophy of Perception: Appearance, Identity, and Ozzian Society. She felt the unexpected warmth of being understood without needing to explain—the warmth of someone finally looking past the surface. A soft smile tugged at Glinda’s lips as she thought back to her entrance exams, recalling how well she’d written them. Her favorite had been the one about whether flowers regretted being plucked. She couldn’t help but wonder what Elphaba might think about that. Her heart fluttered in delight, a quiet joy spreading through her as she linked arms with Elphaba, leaning into her and resting her head on her shoulder. In the stillness of that moment, with Elphaba quietly reading and Glinda leaning into her, the outside world seemed to fade away. For the first time in a long while, Glinda felt at peace—seen.

Amber light spilled through the window of their dorm, casting soft shadows across the room. The sun was low, the light rich and warm, bathing everything in a tranquil almost golden haze, and the edges of the room faded into dusky purples. The only sounds were the occasional flip of a page from Elphaba’s side, gentle humming as Glinda practiced her dance steps, and the rustle of fabric as she fluttered about the room. Her movements were fluid, form graceful, and her dress caught the light beautifully, shimmering softly in the setting sun. She wore a flowing champagne silk gown, with a dusty rose chiffon overlay, and delicate crystal beading along the body and hem. She stopped in front of her mirror and admired her reflection, adjusting her hair.

“So, is this what we’ll all be doing tonight? Spinning in circles until we’re dizzy?” Elphaba quipped from her spot on the bed. Glinda glanced at her roommate, her dress was much simpler—a deep black made of some sturdy material, with thin long sleeves and a simple cut. Despite its simplicity, the dress had a certain understated elegance, and it effortlessly highlighted Elphaba’s natural beauty. Her breath caught for a moment, her eyes tracing the line of Elphaba’s figure in the amber light. The shadows highlighted her features in a way that made her appear mysterious yet familiar. A slight flush crept up her neck, and Glinda quickly looked away, shaking off the sudden vulnerability she felt looking at Elphaba.

“It looks far less silly with a partner,” she said, stepping closer to Elphaba and reaching out her hand. She lifted an eyebrow and wiggled her fingers in a silent invitation.

“Absolutely not.” Elphaba said dryly, though the slight flicker of her eye betrayed her feigned disinterest. Glinda’s hand remained outstretched, and she wiggled her fingers again.

“C’mon, Elphie, you know you want to,” she said lightly. Elphaba’s gaze lingered on Glinda’s outstretched hand for a clock-tick, her lips pressed together in thought. Then, with a resigned sigh, she slowly pushed herself off the bed.

“You’re really going to subject yourself to my lack of coordination?” she said with a playful eyeroll, but there was a faint softness in her voice as she stepped closer. “There’s not any music,” she pointed out, and Glinda huffed before making her way to her desk. She pulled out an intricately carved music box, one she’d kept from childhood. She carefully wound the key, and the soft, lilting tune began to play. The melody was faint at first, delicate like the tinkling of distant chimes, but it gradually filled the room with a soft warmth. It was a song Glinda knew well, one that always brought a sense of nostalgia and peace. As the notes danced in the air, they seemed to wrap around the moment, adding gentleness to the air. The tune was slow, languid, and carried a quiet sense of longing and beauty. She walked back to her spot in front of Elphaba, who gently placed her hands on Glinda’s shoulders.

“Your hands go here,” Glinda said, her voice soft as she took Elphaba’s right hand and placed it on her back, just under her shoulder blade. Glinda smiled as she rested her left hand on Elphaba’s upper arm, and their free hands entwined. “You lead,” she encouraged.

For a moment, the music filled the space between them as they stood together, the rhythm gentle and steady. Elphaba, a little stiff, shifted slightly, guiding them in slightly clumsy first step. Glinda followed with ease, her movements light and fluid despite Elphaba’s less confident steps. As Elphaba grew more confident, their movements began to sync. The warm amber light seemed to wrap around them, adding a dreamlike quality to their movements. The subtle swish of Glinda’s dress and the soft sound of their shoes on the floor created a rhythm of its own, each step drawing them closer, the space between them slowly shrinking.

 Elphaba’s smile was radiant as they circled the room, and Glinda found herself smiling in return. The lightness in the air caused her to let out a soft giggle, and as their eyes met, Elphaba’s focus slipped. She tripped over her own feet, stumbling forward and pulling Glinda off balance. Their hands broke apart, and Elphaba’s arm fell instinctively to Glinda’s waist. Glinda’s hands landed quickly on Elphaba’s shoulder to steady herself.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Glinda teased, playful glint in her eyes. Elphaba’s cheeks flushed as she adjusted her grip on Glinda’s waist, bringing her other hand to rest there as well. The warmth of Elphaba’s hands on her waist sent a chill up Glinda’s spine, her breath catching. Her heart fluttered, and she moved her hands to rest loosely around Elphaba’s neck.

The rhythm shifted, no longer stiff or choreographed, but natural and fluid. They swayed together, bodies close, movements gentle and easy. The soft music continued to play and the world outside seemed to fade away. As they moved together, Glinda’s gaze lingered on Elphaba’s face, studying the gentle curve of her jaw, the freckles peppered around her nose, and the delicate arch of her brow. She was like a rare flower, skin as delicate as silk, glowing with a soft pearlescent sheen. Glinda’s breath caught. Entrancing, she thought. There was a strange, exotic quality to Elphaba’s beauty, something she had never… She quickly shook away the thought, focusing instead on their movements, the feel of Elphaba’s hands on her waist. The urge to reach out and touch her was overwhelming. Before she could think better of it, her hand gently cupped the back of Elphaba’s neck, her thumb grazing over the skin there. Elphaba sucked a sharp breath through her nose, her eyes flickering shut for just a moment, and Glinda’s pulse quickened. Her eyes flickered downward to Elphaba’s lips—just for an instant—and the air between them thickened. She quickly pulled her gaze back to Elphaba’s eyes, suddenly aware of how close they were and of how quiet it had become around them.

Then, as if in answer to some unspoken question, the music stopped. Elphaba cleared her throat, breaking the fragile moment between them, and Glinda quickly pulled her hands away, her face flushing despite herself. She walked to her vanity, putting space between them to dispel the heavy air. Sitting down, she busied herself by touching up her makeup.

“Well, that wasn’t terrible,” Glinda said, glancing at her reflection. “You might even pass for a decent dancer.”

“Decent? That’s high praise coming from you.” Elphaba replied with a light laugh. Glinda managed a small smile, though a weight had settled in her chest. She picked up a jeweled hairpin, twisting it in her fingers before fixing it into place. She admired her reflection in the mirror, giving her hair a quick toss.

“We should probably leave soon,” she said lightly, avoiding Elphaba’s gaze. “I promised Pfannee and Shenshen we’d arrive together.” Elphaba leaned back against her bedpost, watching Glinda with an unreadable expression.

“I suppose it’s too late to change my mind now,” she said.

“Far too late,” Glinda replied, her tone firmer. “And besides…” she paused, standing from her vanity and smoothing her dress. She offered Elphaba a small smile. “It won’t be so bad. You have me, after all.” Elphaba didn’t reply at first, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress as her gaze lingered on Glinda’s.

“Yes. I do,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the air between them.

Glinda and Elphaba stood outside the entrance to the Ozdust Ballroom, the heavy wooden doors gleaming with a golden glow. The sounds of music and chatter drifted through the cracks, but outside, the air was cool—a stark contrast to the warm atmosphere that awaited inside. Glinda shivered, resisting the urge to nestle closer to Elphaba as they waited.

“Surely Misses Pfannee and Shenshen wouldn’t mind if we went inside without them,” Elphaba said, arms crossed in an effort to keep warm. Glinda glanced nervously at her.

“I promised, Elphie,” she said, trying to sound casual, though there was an edge of discomfort in her voice. “If you’re that perturbed by standing here with me, you can go inside.” Her tone carried a bite that she immediately regretted. Elphaba nodded without comment, her expression unreadable. “I’m sorry,” Glinda added, resting her hand on Elphaba’s arm. “I’m just a little on edge from the cold.”

“Well, well…” Glinda straightened at the sound of Pfannee and Shenshen’s arrival. She ran a quick hand down her dress as Shenshen continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Look who finally decided to join us,” she said, her gaze flicking over Elphaba. “Miss Elphaba, who never gives us the time of day. You’ve redeemified yourself with this very pleasant surprise.” Pfannee gave a short laugh, leaning in to get a better look at Elphaba.

“Why, I never thought I’d see the day,” she added with a playful, mocking lilt. “You do clean up well, Miss Elphaba.” Glinda chuckled awkwardly, stepping between Elphaba and her friends.

“Let’s not get too carried away,” she said quickly, a bright but strained smile on her face. “Please, let’s go inside and get out of this cold.” She glanced at Elphaba, offering a quick, reassuring smile.

The moment they stepped through the doors, they were enveloped in the warmth of the ballroom. Soft golden light from chandeliers bounced off the gleaming marble floors, and the excited hum of conversation filled the air. Music—live, no less—floated through the room, blending with sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. A towering ice sculpture of Fiyero stood on a table surrounded by trays of food and drinks. Pfannee and Shenshen’s eyes widened as they took in the spectacle.

“Well, this certainly exceeds expectations,” Shenshen murmured, her voice tinged with awe. Pfannee surveyed the room, her eyes narrowing as she took in the crowd.

“I didn’t realize everyone was invited,” she remarked, her voice laced with distaste.

“Oh no,” Elphaba said, her voice oozing sarcasm. “Whatever will we do? The whole student body?” Glinda fought to hide a laugh.

“Charming,” Pfannee muttered, her gaze flicking dismissively at Elphaba. She grabbed Shenshen’s arm and they moved toward the tables with food and drink, Glinda and Elphaba following behind.

As they reached the tables, Glinda gazed at the ice sculpture, its intricate details glistening in the light. It was a perfect, yet absurdly self-indulgent replica of Fiyero. Pfannee and Shenshen were fawning over its novelty, impressed by Fiyero’s extravagance. Elphaba leaned closer to Glinda, her breath warm against her ear.

“It’s a little over the top, don’t you think?” she whispered, wry smile on her lips. Glinda laughed softly, smirking at the sculpture’s absurd grandeur, and playfully smacked Elphaba’s arm.

“It’s so self-absorbed,” she agreed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. They shared their brief moment of amusement before Glinda felt the weight of the night—the expectations she would have to uphold. Her gaze met with Fiyero’s from across the room, and a sinking feeling struck her chest, her heart fluttering nervously. As he approached, Glinda readied herself, smoothing out her dress, straightening her posture, and plastering on a practiced flirtatious smile. He paused in front of her, his gaze moving slowly from her face down to her chest, lingering just a moment too long.

“Well, don’t you look ravishing tonight,” he said, his voice confident.

“Charmer,” Glinda said coyly, though there was a slight tightness to her voice.

“I do try when it comes to you,” he said, his arm snaking around her waist. She stiffened slightly at the contact. “So, what do you think of the party?”

“It’s a little tame,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice light.

“Well, then I shall have to try harder to impress you,” he said, squeezing her waist in a way that made her want to recoil. Before she could respond, she was interrupted by Avaric approaching the group.

“Care to dance, Miss Elphaba?” He said, his smile wide and easy as he offered his hand. Elphaba’s eyebrows rose as she glanced down at Avaric’s extended hand. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to Glinda and then to Fiyero.

“Get handsy and I kick you,” Elphaba said dryly before taking his hand. Pfannee and Shenshen’s eyes widened at the sight of Avaric leading Elphaba away. A small, incredulous noise escaped Pfannee, something between a gasp and a scoff. Glinda’s throat tightened up, her tongue growing heavy. She turned to Fiyero, hands clenched.

“Well, are you going to ask me or do I need to drag you onto the floor myself?” She snapped, the bite in her tone sharp.

The music shifted seamlessly from an upbeat waltz to a more traditional rhythm. Fiyero’s movements were effortless, his hand firm on her waist as they glided across the floor. He was, of course, a fantastic dancer—an effortless lead, guiding her across the floor as they twirled with the music. Glinda could feel the weight of the crowd’s eyes on them, but her gaze kept drifting, scanning the room for Elphaba and Avaric. She spotted them dancing not too far from where Fiyero and herself were. She watched as Elphaba tilted her head back in laughter, her gaze flicking briefly at Avaric’s hand on Elphaba’s back. Glinda wasn’t sure what bothered her more, that Avaric could make Elphaba laugh like that, or that he was touching her. A possessive twinge curled in her chest, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She forced her attention back to the steps of the dance, her movements automatic. It wasn’t long before she drifted her gaze back to Elphaba.

As the music shifted to a slower, more intimate melody, Fiyero’s grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer. His hand slid lower, dangerously close to the small of her back, and an involuntary shiver ran through her. Instinctively, Glinda reached back, tugging his hand up and adjusting it to a more acceptable position.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice smooth.

“No,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… adjusting.”

The music swelled around them, but Glinda couldn’t stop thinking about Elphaba. She scanned the crowd again, but she and Avaric had blended into the sea of the faces. Fiyero pulled her close once more, and Glinda’s heart raced as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. What should have been an exciting moment felt hollow instead. The scratch of his stubble against her skin, the pressure of his hand on her back—she hated it. But it was fine, she’d just have to convince him to shave more often. She forced a smile as their eyes met, each of them playing their part in a dance they both knew all too well. When the music stopped, they made their way back toward Pfannee and Shenshen. Glinda’s eyes were still searching for Elphaba. She expected her to be with the girls and Avaric, but her roommate was nowhere to be found. Shenshen bounced up to her, practically glowing with excitement.

“That was so romantical!” she gushed. “Everyone saw!” Glinda nodded absently, her gaze turning to Avaric.

“Where’s Elphaba?” she asked, her voice tight.

“I think she left,” he shrugged. Glinda’s stomach twisted as she looked around the room again. She should never have lost track of her.

“Forget about her,” Pfannee said, offering Glinda a drink. She accepted it with a forced smile, the cheer hollow—the ballroom felt empty without Elphaba.

Pfannee and Shenshen walked beside Glinda, their footsteps echoing quietly in the halls as they made their way back to Glinda’s room. She swayed slightly, the alcohol in her system making her steps heavier and less sure. She giggled softly to herself, tipsy but content. Pfannee shushed her.

“Hush, do you want to get caught past curfew?” she whispered. Glinda smirked playfully.

“You two are just mad because you’re not as good at sneaking as me.”

“You’re too loud,” Shenshen said, giving her a disapproving look. “We don’t want to wake the whole school.”

“More like we don’t want to wake the artichoke,” Pfannee added. Glinda’s steps faltered as the sting of Pfannee’s words hit her. The casual insult, meant to hurt, sent a hot wave of anger through her chest. She stopped in her tracks, forcing a cool composure she didn’t feel.

“Her name is Elphaba!” she snapped, her voice sharp in the quiet of the hall. “When will you stop being so childish?” She pushed them both away from her, her face flushed with irritation. Pfannee and Shenshen exchanged glances, but didn’t say anything. “I can go the rest of the way myself!” Glinda, in a rush of frustration, turned on her heel and stalked ahead.

When Glinda entered the room, the faint light of the moon spilled through the window, revealing Elphaba’s still form beneath the blankets. Glinda let out a sigh of relief—Elphaba was asleep, her breathing steady and slow. Careful not to disturb her, she tiptoed around the room to her wardrobe. She bumped into her desk, knocking something off it, and grimaced in pain. She glanced at Elphaba, still asleep, thankfully, and quickly grabbed her nightgown from the wardrobe. She tried to stay quiet as she headed for the bathroom to change and wash her face.

The cool water on her skin was refreshing, but it didn’t erase the ache she felt from the night. She stood in front of the mirror, rubbing her face with a towel, thinking about the dance with Fiyero… the kiss. Her mind returned to Elphaba, how she had disappeared from the party without saying anything. Her chest ached at the thought of losing sight of her. She left the bathroom, expecting to find Elphaba still asleep. To her surprise, Elphaba was sitting up in her bed. Glinda’s heart swelled, and she took a few steps forward.

“Oh, Elphie,” Glinda whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. “Why did you leave me? I was miserable without you.” Without waiting for a response, she climbed into the bed beside Elphaba, wrapping her arms around her, needing to feel close to her again. Elphaba exhaled a soft sigh, her voice quiet as she spoke.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” she said apologetically. She wrapped an arm around Glinda. “I’m sorry.” Glinda buried her face in Elphaba’s neck, tightening her grip.

“I missed you,” she murmured. “Don’t ever leave me like that again.” Elphaba hesitated for a moment.

“I won’t,” she whispered. Glinda pulled back from their embrace, pouting slightly.

“Do you promise?” she asked and Elphaba smiled gently at her, her eyes soft.

“Yes, my sweet.”

My sweet.

Glinda held Elphaba tighter, her heart fluttering and chest tightening in a mixture of relief and longing. In Elphaba’s presence, the weight of everything—the party, the expectations, the confusion—seemed to melt away. She leaned back on the bed, gently pulling Elphaba down with her, until she was cradled in her arms. Glinda nestled her face into Elphaba’s shoulder, the soft curve of her neck fitting against her effortlessly. As Elphaba’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer, Glinda closed her eyes, surrendering to the warmth and comfort. Here, in the quiet of their dorm, wrapped in each other’s arms, everything felt right. She drifted into a peaceful sleep, tangled in the steady comfort of Elphaba’s embrace.

Chapter Text

In the early morning light, Elphaba stirred awake, her vision slightly blurred. The faint scent of lavender filled her nose, her body cozier than she was accustomed to in the morning. All she could see was a mess of gold, and her arm was draped over something soft and warm. Instinctively, she nestled closer to the inviting presence, giving the body next to her a light squeeze.

Wait. Body? 

She blinked the sleepiness out of her eyes and the room slowly materialized. The gold in front of her formed into blonde curls, and her arm—curled snugly around Glinda’s waist—went still. A warmth spread through her, and her heart rate picked up. She hesitated, then shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Glinda. They must have fallen asleep together by accident last night before Glinda could move back to her own bed. She gazed at Glinda’s form beside her, watching it rise and fall with each breath. She was always beautiful, but something about seeing her in this way—unadulterated and delicate—was captivating. Glinda’s body against Elphaba’s created a soft comfort she could easily slip back into… And she didn’t want to wake her. Glinda was sleeping so peacefully, after all. Elphaba closed her eyes again, snuggling closer as she relished how good it felt to be so near her.

She woke again, this time to faint rustling of Glinda stirring beside her. Elphaba shifted her arm from where it rested around Glinda’s waist, her movements deliberate and cautious. Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched Glinda yawn, the soft sound breaking the quiet of the morning. Slowly, Glinda turned to face her, eyes heavy with sleep. Elphaba froze, unsure of how Glinda would react to waking up in her bed. As their eyes met, Glinda’s expression softened. The corners of her mouth curved into a small, sleepy smile, sending warmth flooding through Elphaba.

“Good morning,” Glinda murmured, her voice husky with sleep. Before Elphaba could respond, Glinda slowly lifted her hand. Elphaba held her breath, anticipation curling tight in her chest. Glinda’s fingertips grazed Elphaba’s cheek as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand lingered there, thumb brushing gently against the skin just beneath Elphaba’s ear. A soft heat blossomed beneath Glinda’s touch, the tingling sensation echoing the fluttering of Elphaba’s chest.

“Hello,” Elphaba whispered, her voice barely audible, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. Glinda withdrew her hand and let out a soft, hesitant giggle, the sound shy and unfamiliar coming from her.

“Well, your bed is much more comfortable than I would have thought,” she said, her voice light. Then, with a tilt of her head and a playful smile she added, “Though you could definitely use sheets with a higher thread count.” Elphaba blinked, then laughed softly.

“How can you even tell thread count?” she asked.

“It’s just something a girl knows, Elphie,” Glinda replied with mock seriousness. Elphaba rolled her eyes, the gesture fond and affectionate. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, her back stiff, and twisted her body to stretch out the muscles. Glinda rose from where she lay, arms reaching above her as she stifled a yawn. Elphaba watched her, her eyes lingering for a moment on the way her arms stretched in the air. Glinda was a little more toned than Elphaba had realized, though, it made sense, given how surprisingly good Glinda was in their sparring class. Her gaze moved downward, tracing the curve of Glinda’s back. Elphaba’s mouth went dry as the urge to reach out and run a hand down the delicate arch of her back overwhelmed her. Heat filled her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, clearing her throat.

“I guess we should get ready for the day,” she suggested, her voice thick with the tension of the unspoken emotions swirling in the air. Glinda hummed in agreement, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The morning light caught her blonde waves as they cascaded over her shoulder like spun gold. Elphaba leaned back on her hands, her gaze following Glinda’s every move. Suddenly, she stopped, her posture stiff, head slightly tilted as she stared at something on the floor.

“My—” Glinda rushed to her desk, her steps quick and frantic. Elphaba straightened as Glinda crouched down, faint hitch in her breath.

“What is it?” Elphaba asked, rising to her feet, her stomach twisted in knots. When Glinda didn’t answer, Elphaba moved towards where she was crouched. “Glinda?” she asked, more urgently.

“It’s my music box…” Glinda said, her voice barely above a whisper. Elphaba looked down at the box in Glinda’s hands. The lid hung at a crooked angle, pieces of its intricate inside lay scattered on the floor. Glinda’s fingers traced the edges of the box, and Elphaba’s chest tightened at the sight of her trembling hands. She reached her hand out and hesitated, unsure of what to do. Glinda’s eyes met hers, tears welling up in the corners. “I must have knocked it off my desk last night,” she said, her voice breaking. “It was my mothers, I—” the tears began to fall, and Elphaba placed a hand gently on Glinda’s back.

“We’ll fix it,” Elphaba said softly, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. Glinda shook her head, the motion sharp and full of doubt.

“It’s too old,” she said, her voice quavering. “It’s been in my family for generations. It was stupid of me to bring it here. I never should have—”

“Glinda,” Elphaba crouched down, her eyes locking onto Glinda’s, willing her to breathe. “We’ll find someone. I promise.” She smiled gently at her and for a moment, Glinda didn’t respond.

“Really?” she asked, her voice as delicate as the box she held. Her eyes, still wet with tears, held a vulnerability in them that made Elphaba’s chest ache.

“I’ll take it to the Emerald City myself if I have to,” she replied. Then, she reached her hand out, and gently, carefully wiped the tears from Glinda’s eyes. “Now, come one, let’s get dressed, and we can take this into town and see about getting it fixed.” Glinda nodded, setting the box back on the desk as she stood. Their eyes met for a moment before Glinda threw herself into Elphaba’s arms, the force of it nearly knocking her over. Her arms wrapped tightly around Elphaba, clinging to her like a vine to a tree—tender yet unyielding. Elphaba embraced her return, drawing her closer and resting her chin on Glinda’s head.

“Thank you,” Glinda murmured. They parted after a moment, Glinda heading to the bathroom to get ready and Elphaba changing in the room. When Glinda returned, Elphaba helped her carefully wrap the broken music box in a cloth, and they placed it in a bag. Finally, they left their dorm and made their way to the repair shop in town.

The air was cool outside, though the bright sun overhead tempered the chill. Cobblestone streets were bustling with weekend shoppers and students taking a break from classes. Elphaba and Glinda walked side by side, a quiet comfort between them. As they neared the repair shop, Elphaba’s gaze flicked toward Glinda. Her fingers nervously adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder. Something lingered in Glinda’s expression, a depth of emotion beyond sadness that Elphaba couldn’t quiet grasp—but she wanted to.

“Glinda,” she began softly, her voice just audible over the hum of the street. “Why is this box so important to you? You said it belonged to your mother, but…” She trailed off searching for the right words. “It seems there’s more to it than that.” Glinda hesitated for a moment, her gaze falling to the bag. She bit her lip, silence stretching between them before she sighed.

“My mother used to braid my hair when I was little,” she said softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips in memory. “Whenever I was upset, she’d take me into the sunroom, wind the box, and sit with me. She’d run her fingers through my hair, humming along to the music. We’d talk, and somehow, she always made everything better.” Her voice faltered, and Elphaba reached for her hand. She entwined their fingers and gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Every time I hear that song, it feels like I’m back in her arms—safe, protected, loved.”

“I can see why it means so much to you,” Elphaba said gently. Glinda nodded, her gaze distant as she conintued.

“She gave it to me before I left for Shiz. She said that no matter how far apart we were, the music would always remind me of home—and of her.”

“It sounds like you two were very close,” Elphaba said.

“Yes,” Glinda agreed. “She taught me everything I know.” Glinda smiled faintly, nudging Elphaba’s arm playfully. “What shoes to wear, how to fix your hair…”

“Everything that really counts,” Elphaba quipped, nudging her back.

As the repair shop came into view, Elphaba noticed the tension creeping back into Glinda’s posture. She squeezed her hand gently, drawing Glinda’s gaze. A small, appreciative smile flicked across her lips. They stopped outside the doors of the shop, Glinda taking a deep breath before they entered.

The bell above the door chimed softly as they stepped inside. A musty blend of dust and old leather hung in the air. Shelves overflowed with oddities—broken clocks, lamps, and a disconcerting collection of old porcelain dolls. Elphaba’s gaze caught the black, beaded eyes of a doll, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. Not unsettling at all, Elphaba thought wryly, quickly steering Glinda toward the front counter. Behind the counter, and older man hunched over a cluttered array of tools, muttering under his breath. He straightened as they approached, his sharp eyes flicking over the pair.

“Good morning,” Elphaba greeted, her voice carrying a touch of hesitation. “We were hoping you could repair this.” Glinda took the box from the bag, and unwrapped it, setting it on the counter. The shopkeeper took the box with careful hands, his brow knitting as he inspected it. Muttering under his breath, he turned it over, running his fingers along the intricately carved wood. Elphaba glanced at Glinda, noticing how her fingers twisted nervously. After a brief hesitation, she rested a hand on Glinda’s lower back, a quiet gesture of comfort. Her fingers lingered for just a moment, offering quiet reassurance, before she gently withdrew them, not wanting to impose but needing to remind Glinda that she was there. Her attention returned to the shopkeeper as he exhaled.

“This is an exquisite piece,” he remarked, his tone tinged with regret. “But it’s far too old, I’m afraid. The internal mechanism is delicate—too intricate for me to repair without consulting its original maker.” He set the box gently on the counter. Glinda’s shoulders slumped, disappointment flickering across her features before she lowered her gaze. Elphaba couldn’t help but feel the weight of it too, a sharp pain in her chest mirroring the sadness in Glinda’s expression.

“Is there someone else who could fix it?” Glinda asked hopefully. The shopkeeper shrugged slightly.

“Well, you could always take it back to the place where you bought it. I’m sure they’d have the right tools and expertise.” Glinda’s shoulders slumped under the weight of his words, her lips thinning into a tight line. She shook her head slightly, letting out a soft, bitter laugh.

“That won’t be possible,” Glinda replied quietly, her voice steady despite the sadness lingering in her tone. Elphaba helped her wrap the box back up, placing it back in the bag.

“Thank you for your time,” Elphaba said softly as they left. The bell over the door gave a faint chime, marking their return to the bustling street.

The chill in the air seemed sharper now, mirroring the quiet tension that hung between them. They walked in heavy silence, the lively hum of the town fading behind them, until only the soft rhythm of their footsteps remained. Elphaba stole a glance at Glinda, her chest tightening at the sight of her slumped shoulders and downcast gaze.

“We’ll figure it out,” Elphaba murmured, her voice soft but resolute, even as uncertainty gnawed at her. Glinda gave a small nod, her silence speaking volumes, though her expression remained distant. The walk back to Shiz stretched endlessly, a stark contrast to the lighter mood of their earlier journey.

The firepit crackled softly, its warmth barely cutting though the chill in the late afternoon air. The sun dipped closer to the horizon, casting long shadows over the scene. Off to the side, Avaric, Crope, and Tibbett tossed a hacky sack back and forth, their laughter echoing through the air. Elphaba sat on a log bench, her gaze fixed on the conversation around the fire.

“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal, Glinda,” Pfannee said with a lazy flick of her hand. Shenshen nodded in agreement from her spot on the bench next to her. Elphaba noticed the shift in Glinda’s posture—her back straightening, shoulders rigid—like she was bracing herself for the next blow. Fiyero lounged next to her, his arm hanging lazily on the backrest behind Glinda, legs spread wide.

“I’ve told you, it was my mother’s,” Glinda said, her voice crisp, as though she were downplaying its importance. Elphaba caught the subtle tremor in Glinda’s fingers as she adjusted her gloves, her jaw tightening in quiet frustration. Elphaba ran her thumb along the fabric of her own gloves, her lips formed a tight line.

“I’m sure your mother won’t mind if you buy a new one,” Shenshen suggested lightly. Glinda’s shoulders fell for a moment, the weight of dismissal pressing down on her. Elphaba’s gaze followed the movement, her chest tight and jaw clenched. Glinda quickly pulled herself together, her shoulders rising once more.

“It’s not about that, I…” Glinda trailed off, her voice faltering as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion almost mechanical.

“I’ll buy you a new one, baby-cakes,” Fiyero declared, his voice loud and self-assured. Pfannee and Shenshen cooed in delight, their approval as predictable as it was annoying. Elphaba rolled her eyes, her gaze darting to Glinda, whose faint smile stretched a little too tightly across her face. Elphaba caught the slight clench of Glinda’s jaw, the way her eyes looked toward Fiyero, but not really at him—like there were something just beyond him, something that made her seem far, far away. The smile didn’t reach her eyes. Elphaba’s throat tightened. She wanted to reach out and comfort her, like she had in their room and at the shop, but she didn’t know how—at least not in front of everyone else. The conversation was interrupted by the hacky sack landing in Fiyero’s lap.

“Fiyero!” Avaric called. “You’ve spent long enough catering to the ladies, now come have some fun with us!”

“That’s my cue,” Fiyero said, placing a quick kiss to Glinda’s cheek as he stood. It fell the moment he left, and Glinda glanced at Pfannee at Shenshen as she fixed her lips back in the tight smile they held before. Fiyero jogged over to the boys, playfully shoving Avaric when he got to them.

“Dear, it’s just a dusty old box,” Pfannee said with a careless shrug. “I’m sure whatever Fiyero gets you will be much better.” Elphaba watched Glinda turn her head away from them, her arms crossing as she leaned back against the bench. Elphaba’s jaw tightened, lump forming in her throat.

“Maybe some of us aren’t so superficial,” Elphaba said, her voice slicing cleanly through the silence. She felt the weight of her words as soon as they left her mouth, but she couldn’t stop herself; couldn’t watch the defeated slump of Glinda’s shoulders any longer. “Maybe some of us find value in things that seem frivolous to others.” Her words hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. Heat rose from the pit of her stomach, up her chest and through her cheeks. Pfannee blinked at her, taken aback.

“Why, I never…” she breathed out. Elphaba stood abruptly, fists clenched, the others too stunned to react. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes finding Glinda’s, something unreadable in her expression. Glinda’s lips parted, a silent “thank you” forming there. Elphaba’s chest tightened, and she exhaled through her nose, suddenly feeling too hot—to overwhelmed. She glanced at Glinda one last time, reassured by the soft smile on her lips, and walked away.

Elphaba stormed down the hallways of the dormitory, her heavy footsteps sharp and deliberate against the floors. Heat simmered in her chest, thick and oppressive, refusing to settle since she’d left the firepit. When she reached Nessarose’s door, she knocked sharply, once then twice. Each strike was louder than the last. Crossing her arms, she waited, her foot tapping against the stone in an impatient rhythm.

“Come in!” Nessa’s voice was muffled but clear. Elphaba pushed the door open, revealing her sister sitting at her desk with a book open beside her. “I had a feeling it was you,” she said, watching as Elphaba marched into the room, dropping herself into the chair by the window with an audible huff. Her gaze lingered, unbothered by the interruption. “I could tell by the aggressive knocking.”

“Pfannee and Shenshen are just—” Elphaba’s voice came out tight, nearly cracking in frustration. “So shallow. And Fiyero…” she let out a sharp, hollow laugh. “I have no idea what Glinda sees in him. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand why it matters—why anything matters.” She pressed her fingers the bridge of her nose, squeezing tightly. The pressure barely dulled the simmering heat in her chest.

“Okay hold on,” Nessa wheeled closer, her tone curious but calm. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s this music box that Glinda has,” Elphaba sighed, letting her hands fall into her lap. She stared at the floor for a moment, frowning at the uneven tiles. “She knocked it off her desk and it broke. It’s important to her and the others just don’t get it. Or don’t care, I don’t know.”

“Mm-hmm.” Elphaba’s head snapped up, irritation prickling at the noncommittal sound, but Nessa’s expression was neutral, waiting. She pushed forward.

“It’s been in her family for ages, and she’s clearly upset over it. Pfannee called it dusty and old, Shenshen’s only suggestion was buying a new one, and Fiyero…” Elphaba’s voice trailed off before she took on a mocking tone, deepening it as she mimicked, “‘I’ll buy you a new one, baby-cakes.’ Really? After Glinda’s made it clear she doesn’t want a new one.” Her hands gripped the arm of the chair tightly.

“I see…”

“And ‘baby-cakes’? It’s so condescending it makes me want to pull my hair out,” Elphaba continued, the words tumbling out of her like a dam breaking. “With his overbearing, pompous voice and the way he slumps his body over hers…” Her throat tightened, and she exhaled sharply through her nose, willing herself to stop.

“You know,” Nessa began, her voice tentative but deliberate. “For someone who doesn’t care about Fiyero, you sure are talking a lot about him.” Elphaba stood abruptly, her fists clenched at her sides.

“This isn’t about him,” she snapped. Her voice was sharp, but the tremble in it betrayed something deeper. An undercurrent of feelings she couldn’t hide. “It’s about Glinda. She deserves better. She deserves someone who cares—who can offer more than just throwing money at the problem.” Nessa’s brow lifted; her eyes steady as she tilted her head.

“You’re awfully wound up about this,” Nessa observed, her tone calm but pointed.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Elphaba asked, her voice raising again. Her boots scuffed against the floor as she stalked back and forth. “He’s insufferable.”

“True…” Nessa hesitated, her gaze following Elphaba’s movements—studying her. She tilted her head again, her brow lifted faintly, and her lips curved slightly. Her eyes flicked over Elphaba before she spoke, her voice quiet but calculated, “Fiyero being insufferable wouldn’t bother you so much if it didn’t affect Glinda.” Elphaba froze mid-step, and she narrowed her eyes. Unease prickled at the back of her neck. Her pulse quickened, heat rising to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to argue, but the words tangled in throat, unspoken and stubborn.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she finally managed; her voice quiet, almost wary.

“You tell me,” Nessa shrugged, her expression unreadable. The silence lingered between them, tension sucking the air from Elphaba’s lungs. Her thoughts swirled in chaos, her stomach twisting into knots as her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out the room. A lump formed in her throat, almost suffocating. A sharp knock at the door jolted her, snapping her back to reality.

“Nessa? It’s me,” a voice muffled from behind the door.

“That’ll be Boq,” Nessa said. She wheeled closer to Elphaba, “We’re going to dinner. You should come with us,” she said, her tone softening as she placed a steadying hand on Elphaba’s arm. Elphaba swallowed hard, drawing in a shaky breath before nodding. Dinner was sure to settle the low fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Though she wasn’t sure if it could quiet the images plaguing her mind—Glinda’s soft laugh, the light brush of her hand against Elphaba’s; fleeting but warm, like a whisper she couldn’t forget.

The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. Both Elphaba and Glinda had finished their classes for the day. Elphaba was seated at her desk, absently flipping through her book, though her mind kept straying back to her conversation with Nessa the previous day, and the broken music box on Glinda’s desk. Her eyes flickered to Glinda, who was adjusting her dress and humming a soft tune. Elphaba’s gaze lingered as Glinda tossed her hair, her breath catching at the way the blonde curls fell against her back. Glinda’s eyes met hers in the reflection of the mirror, a soft smile curled her lips, and heat rose in Elphaba’s cheeks.

“What?” Glinda asked, her voice light, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Nothing!” Elphaba stammered. “Just, that color looks good on you.” Glinda drew in a dramatic huff of air.

“Are you calling me pretty, Elphie?” She teased. Heat flushed Elphaba’s cheeks, and she rolled her eyes, attempting to hide the deep flush of green.

“You know you’re beautiful,” she said, attempting dismissal, though the softness in her voice couldn’t hide the truth of her words. She met Glinda’s eyes, there was a softness there that made it difficult to breathe. A knock at the door broke their lingering stare. Without waiting for invitation, Fiyero strode through the door, a broad grin on his face and a package tucked under his arm.

“Look what I got for you, Glinda,” he said, his voice bright as he presented the box. Glinda’s eyes lit for a moment, her smile widening, though there was a flicker of something else there—something Elphaba noticed immediately. It was quickly hidden, replaced by the same perfectly practiced smile Glinda wore when she aimed to please others.

“Oh, Fiyero, you shouldn’t have!” She said, taking the box from him with exaggerated delight, her tone a little too high pitched, too cheerful. She quickly unwrapped it, revealing a shiny new music box. She hesitated before reacting, lips slightly parted.

“See? I knew you’d love it!” Fiyero beamed, pleased with himself. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from Glinda’s face, lingering for a moment too long. A sinking emptiness filled Elphaba’s stomach as she watched the interaction.

“It’s… beautiful,” Glinda said, her voice strained but smiling through it. Her gaze briefly flickered to the broken box on her desk but didn’t linger. “I love it. Really.” She walked to her vanity, placing there, and Fiyero looked toward the broken music box, then back at her with a smile. He moved to the desk, picking it up and glancing around the room.

“I’ll just put his old thing…” his voice trailed off as he looked around Glinda’s side of the room. His gaze flicked over Elphaba’s side before settling on her desk. He approached her with the box, “You don’t mind keeping this in here, do you?” he asked. Elphaba stared as he opened the drawer next to her, carelessly stuffing the box inside it before spinning to face Glinda. Elphaba’s grip tightened on her book, frustration simmering beneath her composed exterior.

“I don’t mind at all,” she murmured sarcastically under her breath.

“We should get going,” Fiyero said to Glinda with a wink. Without waiting for an answer, he ushered her toward the door, and Glinda, her forced smile still in place, followed along. Her eyes flicked for a moment, meeting Elphaba’s before she left. The door clicked shut, leaving Elphaba in silence.

She snapped her book shut in frustration. She stood and walked over to where the new box sat on Glinda’s vanity. She studied the box; it looked nothing like the old one. Where Glinda’s old box was intricate and elegantly made, this one looked gaudy, like it was meant for nothing more than a showcase of wealth. She wondered how long Fiyero spent looking at this one before picking it out. Had he even thought of finding one like the one Glinda broke? She pictured him in a store, picking out the first and most expensive one he saw. She glanced back to her own desk, where the broken box now rested, an idea forming.

She walked over to her desk, opening the drawer and pulling out the broken box. If there was anyone at Shiz who might have some knowledge on antiques, it was Dr. Dillamond. She placed the box in her bag and left her dorm, making her way towards his office, hoping he’d still be there.

Elphaba stepped out of the dormitory, the music box nestled carefully in her bag. The air was crisp, and the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the courtyard. Students milled about, their chatter filling the air, but Elphaba hardly noticed. Her mind spun with questions she couldn’t answer and feelings she couldn’t quite name. Nessa’s words lingered in her mind—you tell me. Elphaba pressed her teeth together, clenching her jaw. What was there to tell? She cared about Glinda; that much she was sure of. But maybe she was getting too involved in her life. Maybe she should have just let Fiyero save the day and be done with it. If saving the day involved doing exactly what Glinda didn’t want, anyway.

Her boots scuffed against the stone floor as she entered the academic building. She made her way down the hall, heartbeat picking up as she neared Dr. Dillamond’s office. When she arrived, the door to his office was slightly ajar. She hesitated, adjusting the straps of her bag. Taking a steady breath, she lightly knocked before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

“Dr. Dillamond?” she asked. The professor looked up from his desk, cluttered with papers and artifacts, and greeted her with a warm smile.

“Ah, Miss Elphaba,” he said. “What brings you here?”

“I need your expertise… on something less academic,” she said, hesitating slightly.

“Less academic? From you? Now you’ve piqued my interest,” Dr. Dillamond said with a small chuckle. Elphaba reached into her bag, carefully pulling out the music box, and placed it on his desk. The intricate details of the box caught the light, casting faint patterns on the desk. The professor adjusted his glasses, studying the box closely. “Ah, now this is something. Wherever did you come across such a piece?”

“It’s not mine,” Elphaba said quickly, faint flush rising to her cheeks. “It belongs to Glinda. It broke and, well, we haven’t had any luck finding someone who can fix it. I thought… maybe you’d know what to do.”

“This isn’t a common music box,” he observed, his expression thoughtful. “I recognize the insignia. The artisan who crafted this was a master—someone with both skill and remarkable patience.”

“So… can you fix it?” Elphaba leaned forward, her voice urgent.

“I’m afraid this is beyond me,” Dillamond admitted with a sigh. Elphaba’s heart sank, her shoulders sagging slightly. Perhaps everyone else was right, maybe there was no hope but to replace it. Dr. Dillamond cleared his throat and Elphaba’s eyes snapped up, a flicker of hope returning. “But…” he added with a knowing smile. “I might know someone who can help. An Orangutan. She’s an expert with intricate mechanisms such as this. She doesn’t take just any project, but she owes me a favor. And I have a feeling she’ll be very interested in this piece.” A wide grin spread across Elphaba’s face.

“You’ll take me to her?” she asked. Dr Dillamond nudged the box closer to Elphaba, nodding.

“Come along. I’ll introduce you,” he said.

Elphaba followed Dr. Dillamond through the streets of town, her boots clicking against the cobblestone. Dillamond led the way with a purposeful stride, occasionally greeting other Animas as they passed. They stopped outside a quaint shop, its window displayed an eclectic collection of pocket watches, ornate clocks, and other intricate mechanisms. Above the door, a wooden sign swayed in the light breeze: Auntie Kala’s Timepiece Boutique.

Dr. Dillamond pushed the door open, the bell above jingling softly. Inside, the shop was a cacophony of ticking sounds, and every available surface was adorned with glittering clocks and strange contraptions. Behind the counter sat an Orangutan, her fur a shade of red that glinted under the shop’s warm lights. She wore a pair of round glasses and a faded apron, smeared with oil and dust.

“Kala,” Dillamond called, a note of familiarity in his voice. The Orangutan looked up from the tiny gears she was inspecting, her face breaking into a wide grin.

“Dilly!” She exclaimed, hopping from her stool with agility. “What brings you here, old friend? And who’s the greenie you’ve brought along?” Elphaba bristled at the nickname but said nothing.

“This is one of my brightest students,” Dillamond said, patting Elphaba lightly on the shoulder. “She has something I think you’ll find intriguing.” Kala raised a curious brow, pulling her glasses higher up her nose.

“Intriguing, eh? Let’s see it then,” she said. Elphaba shifted before drawing the box from her bag. She placed it on the counter.

“It’s broken, unfortunately,” Elphaba said, but Kala’s reaction was undeterred. Her eyes widened, and she let out a low whistle.

“A Melodierre Box? You found one?” she asked, her voice thick with awe. She reached for the box, hands trembling slightly as she ran her fingers over its surface. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. And in this condition… my, my.”

“It’s broken…” Elphaba repeated, confused by the Orangutan’s awe.

“Broken,” Kala tutted. “Do you realize what you’ve got here?” She laughed incredulously. “Child, this box may be broken, but I’ve never seen one so well taken care of. These were crafted by Melodierre himself, an Orangutan artisan who lived over a century ago. He made only a handful of these, each one unique. How much do you want for it?” Kala’s eyes gleamed as she gently opened the box, inspecting the damaged mechanisms within.

“It’s not for sale,” Elphaba clarified, and Kala met her gaze, slight disappointment in her eyes. “It belongs to someone important to me, and I was hoping you could fix it?” The Orangutan’s focus went back to the box, muttering to herself as she examined the gears, clicking her tongue in thought. Dr. Dillamond cleared his throat and smiled softly.

“I may have mentioned to Miss Elphaba that you’d find a treasure like this well worth your time. And that you owe me a favor, from a time long ago,” he said with a light, knowing tone. Kala blinked, her eyes flickering with recognition before a grin tugged at her lips.

“Ah, Dilly, you old Goat. I owe you indeed,” she chuckled lightly. Elphaba waited with bated breath as Kala turned her attention toward her. “My dear, it would be a privilege to work on a Melodierre Box. With a delicate touch, I’ll have this back in working order in a week’s time. Good as new.”

“Oh, thank you!” Elphaba exclaimed, surging forward to take Kala’s hand in an aggressive, but appreciative shake. “You have no idea what this means to me. And thank you, Dr. Dillamond, for bringing me here.” Dr. Dillamond gave her a warm smile and nodded his head.

“You’re very welcome, Miss Elphaba,” he said. Then, his gaze flickered to Kala. “I trust you can make it back to Shiz yourself?” Elphaba looked between them, suddenly aware of the way the room seemed to shift, the air thick with unspoken tension. She nodded quickly, eager to escape the thick air.

“Yes, I can. I’ll see you back at school, Dr. Dillamond.” She turned and waved at the two of them, a final thanks ringing through the air before the bell above the door chimed at her exit.  As she walked back to Shiz, a newfound lightness had settled in her chest. There was a sense of accomplishment, sure, but more than that—there was a warmth she hadn’t expected. A small flame rising at the thought of Glinda and how she’d react when she got her box back.

The soft light of the moon shone through the window of Elphaba’s room. She sat on her bed, fingers tapping the fixed music box. Glinda was out with Pfannee and Shenshen, and Elphaba had been invited to join, but she needed to return to the watch store to pick up the box. So, here she waited. The longer it took for Glinda to return, the faster her heartbeat became. She stood, resting the box on her bed, and walked to the window. She gazed out, appreciating the quiet, calm look of Shiz after dark.

Suddenly, she heard movement by the door: the faint rustling of footsteps, a hand twisting the knob. Elphaba’s breath hitched, and she turned quickly, her heart pounding as Glinda breezed into the room. She went straight to her vanity, sat down, and pulled out a brush, her back to Elphaba. She hadn’t noticed the box on the bed. Elphaba swallowed hard, her stomach fluttering more intensely. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the box, its weight somehow heavier than she remembered.

“Oh, Elphie, you have no idea the night I just had,” Glinda said, her voice light and carefree. She ran the brush through her hair, and Elphaba hesitated for a moment, watching her in the mirror. Her fingers tightened around the box.

“Glinda?” She said, her voice tentative. Glinda stopped brushing, and their eyes met in mirror’s reflection. Her eyes flickered to the box in Elphaba’s hand, and she set the brush down before standing from her chair.

“Elphie?” Glinda said, her voice soft and vulnerable. A familiar, aching longing tugged at Elphaba’s chest—the moon calling the ocean’s waves. Glinda paused for a moment before rushing forward to gently take the box from Elphaba’s hands. “How did you…” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s sort of a long story,” Elphaba said. Glinda met her eyes, a bright and genuine smile on her lips. “Dr. Dillamond introduced me to a very interesting Orangutan and—” Glinda gently set the box back on the bed and, before Elphaba could react, she was in her arms. The suddenness of it took Elphaba by surprise, but she quickly embraced her, pulling her close. Glinda melted into her embrace, like the sun sinking into the horizon.

“Thank you,” Glinda murmured, pulling back. Elphaba caught sight of the tears glistening in her eyes, the gentle spark in them nearly breaking her. Her throat clenched—had she done enough? Had she really helped?

“My sweet…” Elphaba whispered, gently brushing a tear away with her thumb, her touch soft and light. The flicker of uncertainty in Glinda’s gaze sent another wave of vulnerability crashing through her. Before she could speak, Glinda’s lips brushed against her cheek—a soft, fleeting kiss that sent a jolt of warmth through her. The air around them thickened, leaving Elphaba in a floaty haze. She closed her eyes, the sensation lingering like a soft echo. When Glinda pulled away, Elphaba’s head instinctively followed in a quiet tilt, her body unwilling to let the distance grow too wide.

As Glinda moved to her vanity, Elphaba’s fingers drifted to the spot where her lips had been, lightly grazing her cheek. A faint tingling sensation bloomed there, still warm, as though her lips remained. Her breath caught, her hand lingering just a moment longer, trying to hold on to the feeling. Her sister’s words echoed in her mind, no longer a question but a truth she hadn’t wanted to face.

You tell me.

Elphaba blinked, the sound of Glinda’s soft humming almost lost beneath the weight of the moment. Everything felt both lighter and heavier, a sensation that made her chest ache. She stood there a moment longer, watching the careful way Glinda removed her hairpins, her mouth going dry as she gazed at delicate fingers unclasping a necklace. She exhaled a soft sigh and moved back to her bed, picking up a book. The warmth on her cheek lingered, and something inside Elphaba shifted—just slightly.

Chapter Text

The coach rattled over uneven cobblestones, the sound somehow both too loud and muffled, as though it was coming from underwater. Glinda stared out the window, but the landscape was a blur of indistinct shapes: colorful pinks and oranges swirling together in the distance. She tapped her fingers on the armrest. She didn’t know what time it was, but she knew with a cold certainty that she was late. Her emerald rings dug into her as she twisted them around her fingers, the sharp edges biting into her skin. She craned her neck, trying to peer past the driver’s broad shoulders, but he was impossibly still. She exhaled a frustrated sigh and knocked on the glass window in front of her.

“Excuse me?”  Glinda said, her voice high-pitched and strained. He didn’t respond, so she tried again, louder this time. “Driver, do you know how much longer it will be?”

Silence.

Her throat constricted as she sat back against the velvet cushions, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glanced out. Haven’t we passed that crooked lamppost? She straightened, leaning closer to the window. The coach rolled past a Bear juggling in front of a group of laughing children. Glinda’s stomach twisted. She was almost certain she’d seen that Bear before. Was the driver lost?  Her hands tightened around the armrest as a cold knot coiled in her stomach. Something was not right.

The rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves echoed the drum of her heart. Faster. She needed the coach to move faster. She needed to get to Elphaba. Once she was with her, everything would make sense again. Time seemed to stretch and distort in the coach, each second like an eternity. She could almost feel Elphaba’s presence, like a beacon in the distance, but no matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t make the coach go any faster.

There was the lamppost again. And the Bear reappeared, juggling the same balls, in front of the same children. That had to be the fourth—or was it the fifth?—time they’d passed the same scene. She leaned forward, knocking on the glass between her and the driver with growing urgency.

“Driver?” she called, her voice trembling.

Nothing.

She knocked harder, her knuckles aching with each strike. A cold dread churned in her stomach, rising to her throat.

“Driver, stop this nonsense at once!” she exclaimed, feeling lightheaded. Still, the driver was silent. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, and her fingers trembled as they reached for the door handle. “Stop the coach!” she shouted, panic washing over her in waves. She shoved the door open and practically fell out of the coach, her legs shaking as her boots struck the cobblestone.

She straightened, brushing off her dress with trembling hands. The air was thick and stifling. It pressed down on her lungs. The streets bustled with people—so many people—all rushing past her in a blur of motion. Their faces were indistinct, smudges of flesh and shadow that moved too quickly for her to focus on. Glinda stumbled forward, her heels catching on the uneven ground. She reached out, her fingers brushing against fabric before she collided with a solid chest.

“There you are!” boomed a familiar voice, warm and confident. She blinked up into Fiyero’s smile—broad, too broad. His teeth gleamed unnaturally bright, and his eyes shone with a light that made her stomach churn. She froze in his arms, blinking rapidly, trying to piece together the moment. Everything had been…and now…

“Fiyero?” she asked, her voice unsteady. His smile widened impossibly further. “Thank you for catching me…” her voice trailed off.

“Of course, my sweet,” he said, pulling her closer, his voice like syrup.

My sweet?

No…no, that’s not right.

“I…” Her words faltered as she tried to pull back from his grip. She turned her head, scanning the crowd for a hint of black, for her. “I have to go,” she said quickly, wriggling free of his arms and stepping away.

The street drifted as she moved, the forms around her shifting, their blurred faces sharpening into the same shape: Fiyero. One leaned against a lamppost, another crouched by a stall peddling wares she couldn’t quite make out. Their laughter rippled through the air, bright and echoing, overlapping into an unnatural symphony that set her teeth on edge.

“Glinda!” one called, his voice unnervingly close.

“Where have you been?” another asked, his tone almost scolding.

Glinda’s breath quickened, her chest tightening as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She shook her head, refusing to look up at them. Her heels clicked faster against the cobblestone as she sped up, her eyes darting wildly. Elphaba. She needed to find Elphaba. Elphaba would make everything better.

The laughter grew louder, swelling into an unbearable crescendo. Each voice called her name, and every step drew her deeper into the endless sea of Fiyeros. Her hands shook as she clutched her dress, her steps growing frantic. And then—

A hand gripped her arm, cold and unyielding. It yanked her backward, spinning her around. The world blurred into a dizzying swirl of colors and sounds that swallowed her whole. Then, just as suddenly, the chaos melted away. Smooth, polished marble cooled her feet, and the lilting strains of a waltz filled her ears.

The Ozdust Ballroom shimmered around her, bathed in golden light that glinted off crystal chandeliers. The air was thick with the scent of perfume, the hum of laughter, and swish of dresses. Fiyero’s hand rested lightly on her waist, guiding her through the familiar steps of the dance

“You look radiant,” he murmured, his gaze piercing and unrelenting. Glinda managed a weak smile, but her stomach churned. Something was wrong. Her feet followed the waltz’s rhythm, but her mind remained elsewhere. As Fiyero spun her, a flash of green caught her eye.

Elphaba.

Her heart leapt, a sudden, fierce surge of relief warming her from head to toe. Before she could react, Fiyero guided her into another spin, pulling her attention away. He dipped her low, the lights overhead spinning in a kaleidoscope of gold and white.

“I—I need…” Glinda’s voice faltered as he pulled her upright. Another spin. And there she was again. Across the ballroom, near a shadowed alcove—Elphaba. This time, Glinda didn’t wait. She wrenched free from Fiyero’s gasp, her eyes fixed on the solitary figure. Her heart pounded as she stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble, each step swallowed by the music and chatter around her.

“Glinda, wait!”

Boq’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm. His voice was high-pitched and desperate.

“I have to go,” she said curtly, yanking her arm free without sparing him a glance. Her path was clear, her focus unshaken. But it didn’t last. Shenshen’s sharp nails clamped onto her arm.

“Darling, we must catch up!” Pfannee chirped in her ear. Glinda twisted, but they held on fast, their grip like iron. She was surrounded, their chatter swirling around her, meaningless and maddening. Her gaze darted around the room, but Elphaba was gone—lost in the crowd.

“Let me go!” she snapped, her voice rising, but neither of them budged. Pfannee’s bright laughter rang hollow in her ears, and Shenshen’s giggle grated like broken glass. A weight pressed down on her chest, cold and suffocating. She shoved them back with a burst of frantic energy, ignoring their gasps of indignation.

“I have to go!” she shouted, her voice cracking as she pushed past them, her arms shaking. Then—there—Elphaba. The shadowed figure stood just ahead, closer now, the rest of the room fading away. Glinda’s heart thundered in her chest as she reached out, fingers trembling. The distance between them closed inch by inch, until her hand was nearly there, grazing against Elphaba’s shoulder. And—

Glinda’s eyes snapped open, her chest heaving as her heart raced against her ribs. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, as if she’d run a marathon. Her nightgown clung uncomfortably against her skin, the sweat causing it to cling. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her throat was tight, a familiar lump forming as her eyes filled with tears. Her body felt strangely heavy, as though she was still trapped in the oppressive atmosphere of her dream.

Glinda blinked rapidly, her eyes darting around the room as she struggled to distinguish the dream from reality. An awful feeling of wrongness lingered, her chest growing heavy and her breaths growing harder to take. She shot up, her trembling fingers gripped the blanket draped across her lap. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the images of the dream, but they refused to fade—Fiyero’s far too wide grin, Shenshen’s nails digging into her arms, Elphaba just out of reach.

Elphaba.

“Elphie!” she called, her voice breaking. The moonlight cast faint silver beams across the room, just enough for her to make out the figure in the bed across from her. There was the rustle of sheets, and then Elphaba swung her legs over the bed, her movements swift and fluid.

“Glinda?” Elphaba’s voice was low, but her concern cut through the thick weight in Glinda’s chest.

She crossed the room swiftly, and Glinda reached her hand out as the floorboard creaked in front of her. The moment Elphaba took her hand, the tension in Glinda’s chest loosened. Her touch was cool against Glinda’s overheated skin, steady and grounding. A few tears slipped down Glinda’s cheeks as she blinked rapidly, bringing herself fully into the present. The mattress dipped slightly as Elphaba sat beside her, her other hand lifting to cup Glinda’s cheek. Her palm was cool, her fingers slender but firm—an anchor in the storm. Glinda leaned into the touch, closing her eyes for a moment. The oppressive weight from her dream began to fade, and her heartbeat slowed, each thrum easing her panic.

“I’m here, my sweet, you’re okay,” Elphaba said softly. She pulled Glinda to her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close. A shaky exhale escaped Glinda’s lips as Elphaba’s presence steadied her. “You’re safe,” Elphaba murmured, lifting a hand and threading her fingers gently through Glinda’s hair. Her fingers worked through the strands slowly, deliberately—each motion careful and tender. Glinda’s breath hitched, her lower lip trembling as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t just the physical comfort of Elphaba’s fingers in her hair, but the unspoken understanding of the action—Glinda felt seen, truly seen. It was as if a flower bloomed inside her, petals unfolding one by one in the warmth of Elphaba’s touch. Elphaba’s hands weaved through her hair like a promise, soft and steady. Each gentle stroke of fingers seemed to erase the remnants of the nightmare. She closed her eyes, and her muscles relaxed as she allowed herself to be fully present in the moment.

“I had a terrible dream,” Glinda said finally, softly.

“You’ve had a lot of those lately,” Elphaba observed quietly. “You’ve been waking up like this for weeks. I’m starting to worry about you.” Her hand still combed gently through Glinda’s hair.

Elphaba was right—it was the second time just this week Glinda had woken up this way. For weeks she’d been plagued by dreams like the one she’d had tonight, each one leaving her shaken, with the unease lingering long after she woke. And each time Elphaba was there for her, whispering sweet comforts into her ear and running her fingers through her hair. A gentle warmth bloomed in her chest, and her heart skipped in a light flutter. She nestled closer into Elphaba, resting her head against her shoulder, the last piece of a puzzle settling into the place where it had always belonged.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elphaba asked gently, not pressing, just offering. Glinda shook her head from its spot on Elphaba’s shoulder.

“No,” she whispered. “I just…I just need this. With you.”

The day passed in a quiet rhythm, Glinda gravitating toward Elphaba with an unspoken need for proximity. The morning classes blurred together in a haze of half-heard lectures and the scratch of quills on parchment. Glinda barely registered the words, her attention instead focused on the feel of her foot shifting beneath the desk, brushing lightly against Elphaba’s. She hesitated, unsure if the touch was too much. She watched Elphaba’s reaction with bated breath from the corner of her eye, heart stuttering in her chest. Elphaba quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t pull away. Instead, she adjusted, her boot pressing just slightly against Glinda’s slipper. It was a small thing, but a thrill, basis indeterminable, rippled through Glinda’s chest. Heat radiated where they touched, and for the rest of the lecture, it was all she could focus on—Elphaba’s presence, the subtle curve of her lips when something amused her, the way their arms brushed together with every scratch of Elphaba’s quill. Glinda caught herself stealing glances, her gaze lingering on Elphaba longer than necessary.

Between classes, the corridors hummed with chatter and the shuffle of feet. Glinda looped her arm through Elphaba’s as they walked, a habit formed over the last few months, but today it felt different—more necessary. The warmth of Elphaba’s arm against hers grounded her, and Glinda leaned into Elphaba’s side, drawing strength from her presence. Elphaba’s other hand lifted, curling over Glinda’s where it rested on her arm. The touch was brief, instinctive, but it set Glinda’s heart fluttering, and a soft heat crept up her neck. She bit her lip, glancing away as a small flush warmed her cheeks.

At lunch, the familiar buzz of the dining hall felt distant. Their usual group gathered at the far end of the table, but Glinda’s focus lingered on Elphaba—on the way her eyes sharpened when she debated something with the boys, or how she drummed her fingers absentmindedly against the table. Glinda hung on to Elphaba’s every word as she recounted some meeting with Madame Morrible, leaning into her side and laughing as she made a witty comment. Her shoulder brushed against Elphaba’s, and for a fleeting moment, Elphaba’s arm came around her, resting her hand lightly on Glinda’s back. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but the warmth of her touch settled in Glinda’s chest. The touch lingered in her mind, her back tingling where Elphaba’s hand had rested. She glanced at her, a lump forming in her throat, and an ache settling in her chest.

Later, before their last class of the day, the group gathered near the fountain in the courtyard. The chatter of their friends blurred, leaving only Glinda and Elphaba in their own, quiet world. Elphaba said something sharp and clever, making Glinda laugh softly. Her gaze lingered on Elphaba’s, and for a moment, everything else fell away. Elphaba brushed a stray strand of hair from Glinda’s face, her fingers lingering for the briefest of moments before retreating. Glinda’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse skipping as fire spread from her chest through her ribs. The others murmured around them, but Glinda hardly noticed. Her gaze locked on Elphaba’s, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Finally, in the early evening, Glinda and Elphaba retreated to the library. The scent of old books and the sound of flipping of pages had become a comfort over the last few weeks. The light filtered in through the window above the chaise they lounged in. Glinda sat with her feet up, and a book open in her lap; another one Elphaba had picked out for her. She leaned against Elphaba—absorbed in her own book—whose arm wrapped around Glinda, fingers brushing absentmindedly through her hair.

There was something calming about Elphaba, something Glinda hadn’t realized she’d been missing. When they were together, it was as if the outside world didn’t exist. Glinda didn’t have to wear the bubbly mask she’d spent so long perfecting; so long that sometimes she wasn’t sure if she knew the girl underneath it anymore. But with Elphaba, the façade fell easily, and she didn’t have to be what anyone expected her to be. Being with Elphaba was like coming up for a breath of fresh air, like she’d been sinking, desperate for something—someone—to pull her to shore. She glanced up at Elphaba, catching her profile as she read. There was a softness in her face, a quiet intensity that made Glinda’s heart swell.

Fiyero’s voice broke the peace, a clap of thunder in the sky.

“Glinda,” he called from across the room. “There you are.” A knot coiled in Glinda’s stomach, and Elphaba’s hand fell as she straightened, closing the book and setting it in her lap. Fiyero neared, his casual smile directed at Glinda, and his eyes flicking briefly to Elphaba.

“Hello, Fiyero,” Glinda greeted, fitting a practiced smile on her face, the energy of pulling it up almost draining her.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, his words light, but there was a weight to them, an expectation that she couldn’t ignore. Her mask slid into place.

“Oh, I was just…” her voice hitched, slightly, imperceptible as she glanced over at Elphaba. “Just reading with Elphaba.” Her gaze lingered for a moment, but she didn’t see the same softness tha had been there before. Something subtle shifted in the air, an unspoken tension settling between them. Elphaba’s lips were pressed in a tight line, her fingers gripping her book, a flash of disappointment she couldn’t hide—not from Glinda. Her chest tightened at the sight, the familiar ache settling deep within her.

“I was going to head for a walk. You coming?”  Fiyero asked, grinning, he’d noticed nothing. Glinda’s heart ached. She wanted to stay, wanted to curl back into Elphaba and let the world fade away. But Fiyero was waiting, and the moment, so perfect before his arrival, had already begun to crumble.

“Okay,” she said with forced brightness, the words feeling hollow as they left her mouth. She stood, her gaze returning to Elphaba, and her chest aching as she noticed the strain in her expression. Elphaba’s eyes were downcast, her posture rigid. Glinda’s heart stung, wishing she could stay.

She stepped away from Elphaba and looped her arm through Fiyero’s outstretched arm. Her eyes met Elphaba’s once more, and there was a flicker of something unspoken there. Something that made her want to apologize, to slide back into the comfort of her arms, but Fiyero was already pulling her toward the doors. Glinda followed, her chest heavy, as if a part of her was being left behind.

As they walked along the canal, the evening air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the soft hum of the water flowing gently beside them. Fiyero’s hand was in hers, warm against her skin, familiar but not quite right. It was just… there. The weight of it was too light, too insubstantial, as if it didn’t quite belong. She could feel the gentle pull of his hand, but it didn’t settle in her chest like it should. There was a strange dissonance in the rhythm of walking beside him, like trying to fit a puzzle piece that didn’t match.

The golden hues of the evening sky deepened, the sun slipping lower, casting long shadows across the path. They were walking in silence, the only sound the gentle rustle of the trees swaying around them. The lapping water caught her eye, and the scene tugged at her memory, unbidden. She thought, despite herself, of another walk along this path. It seemed like ages ago, the memory folding in on itself like a well-worn page in a book she couldn’t help but reread.

The moonlight had been soft then, casting a silver glow on the water. She recalled how Elphaba had looked in that light, her face illuminated by the pale glow, her features softer, almost tender. There had been a quiet contentment to her, something unspoken in the way she’d walked beside Glinda, a kind of peace that felt rare at the time. Glinda smiled faintly at the memory, at the feel of Elphaba’s hand in hers. She hadn’t meant to do it at first. There had been something in the way their hands brushed together so often, something magnetic that had pulled her to it. Her fingers had trembled slightly at the thought of reaching for Elphaba, but when she did, there had been a jolt of warmth, like lightning running up her arm. For a moment, Glinda had feared Elphaba would pull away, but she hadn’t.  A longing spread through her then, like something alive, like something that she couldn’t let go of.

“Glinda?” Fiyero’s voice cut through the fog of her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. She blinked, feeling the cool air against her skin, the tight squeeze of Fiyero’s hand in hers—a warmth that felt too distant somehow. She glanced at their hands, and for a fleeting moment, she wished it was Elphaba’s hand she was holding instead. She swallowed, her chest tightening as the thought threatened to swallow her whole. “Are you even listening?” Fiyero’s tone was light, teasing. A slight chuckle followed the question, but it only made the distance between them feel more pronounced.

Glinda stopped walking. Something in her shifted, a sudden, overwhelming realization that everything felt wrong. Her fingers twitched in his grip, and she felt too aware of how her hand didn’t quite fit in his, the mismatch of it all. The effort to put on her mask, to slip back into her old self, was suffocating. She could hardly breathe.

“I…” She stopped, her throat thickening, and the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t make sense of the blooming pressure in her chest. Fiyero’s expression shifted, his smile faded, and concern clouded his face.

“Are you alright?” He asked. The words hit her like a physical blow, and her throat constricted, choking her. Her breath caught as tears welled up, threatening to spill over. She swallowed hard.

“Fiyero,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she dropped his hand. “I don’t think this is right.” Fiyero’s brow furrowed, his face confused at first. Her words hung in the air between them, thick with tension. His gaze met hers then, his eyes widening slightly.

“You’ve been pulling away for weeks, I—” He stopped, and swallowed, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as he turned away from her. Glinda took a step towards him then hesitated, unsure if her presence was welcome. He sighed, facing her, “I thought if I tried harder…” His voice trailed off.

“You’re wonderful, really, and you’ve been so good to me, but…” Glinda paused, biting her lip and struggling to find the right words. “We’re so different. You’re so carefree, and I admire that, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt… understood. And I want us both to be with someone who understands.”  Fiyero’s face faltered, the disappointment clear in his expression. He didn’t say anything for a long while, and Glinda fidgeted with her fingers, unable to meet his eyes.

“You mean to tell me you weren’t completely fascinated when I spent half an hour explaining Winkie polo strategy?” He asked, a slight amusement in his tone. Glinda’s eyes glanced up to meet his, finding a flicker of light amidst the melancholy. Her lips quivered, and a laugh escaped before she could stop it.

“I tried!” she replied, relieved that Fiyero wasn’t mad at her. “But it’s just not me.” Fiyero shook his head in mock disbelief.

“I knew it. You nodded in all the wrong places,” he said. Glinda laughed again, the tension easing a little. Her chest felt lighter, it felt like old times when they could laugh together without it feeling forced.

“Can we still be friends?” Glinda asked softly, her voice earnest. Fiyero hesitated, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he nodded.

“I think I need some time, but yes. We’ll be okay,” he said. She nodded and Fiyero ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the canal. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and for a moment neither of them said anything, the soft lapping of the water filling the space between them. The ache in Glinda’s chest shifted, still there but no longer unbearable. She felt lighter, though her heart carried the weight of hurting someone she cared for.

“I guess this is goodbye then, for now,” she said softly, her voice just above a whisper.

“For now,” Fiyero agreed, his smile tilting to one side, laced with a familiar charm. He stepped back, giving her room to leave first, a quiet understanding passing between them. Glinda hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward to give him a brief hug—a parting, fragile but sincere.

She stepped away and turned toward the dormitories, her footsteps light, but her heart heavy. The soft murmur of the canal accompanied her as she walked, her mind filled with everything that had happened. She felt the weight of her choice. It hurt, but deep down, it felt right.

The dorm felt unusually quiet as Glinda stepped inside, her heels clicking faintly against the polished floor. The weight of the breakup lingered in her chest, an ache she couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t just Fiyero—though that hurt too—but the part of herself she’d left behind with him. The version of Glinda who always smiled, always charmed. She’d let him see the cracks, but even then, she’d tried to keep them neat, polished, and contained. Now those cracks felt like gaping fissures, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to piece them back into the mask she so often wore. Her heart ached with the memory of his face, the disappointment in his eyes, even as he tried to reassure her. She didn’t regret it—she couldn’t—but the thought of causing him pain left a hollow feeling in her chest. She rubbed her arms, trying to soothe it away, but it clung to her, heavy and unrelenting.

She moved to sit on the edge of her bed and her eyes drifted to Elphaba’s side of the room, her books cluttered on the desk, a coat hanging from the chair. A flicker of relief spread through her, Elphaba would be back soon. She was probably at dinner, but Glinda hadn’t even considered eating. Her stomach twisted at the mere thought.

By the time the door suddenly opened, Glinda had no idea how long she had been sitting there. Elphaba stepped inside, the faintest trace of surprise crossing her face when she saw Glinda. Her brow furrowed, sharp yet concerned.

“Glinda? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be with—” She stopped, her expression shifting as she took in Glinda’s face. Just seeing Elphaba caused tears to well up in her eyes, and a heavy lump formed in her throat. “What did he do?” Elphaba asked, her voice low and steady, but there was a hardness beneath it, a simmering protectiveness that made Glinda’s throat constrict even further. Elphaba rushed to the bed, kneeling in front of her. Hot tears spilled over as Glinda shook her head.

“He didn’t—he didn’t do anything. We… I…” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to steady herself. “We broke up.” Elphaba’s expression softened instantly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she stood up, her eyes searching Glinda’s face. Gently, she reached up and brushed a tear from Glinda’s cheek, her touch warm and comforting.

“Oh, my sweet, I’m so sorry,” Elphaba murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She pulled Glinda into an embrace, and Glinda melted against her. The ache in her chest gave way to something softer, something that felt right. Elphaba pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her lips lingering for just a moment. She held Glinda close, running soothing circles over her back. The warmth of her touch seeped into Glinda’s skin, filling spaces she  hadn’t even known were empty. “What do you need from me?” Elphaba asked, her voice soft and earnest.

“Just… hold me,” Glinda whispered, her words barely audible as she buried her face in Elphaba’s neck.

And Elphaba did. She held her as if nothing else mattered, her arms firm but gentle, her presence anchoring Glinda. It was as if her very being had found its center, a tree sinking its roots deep into the earth, steady and immovable. The room was silent, save for the faint sound of Glinda’s breathing evening out, and the weight of the moment wrapping around them. Here, in Elphaba’s arms, Glinda didn’t need to be polished or perfect. She was simply Glinda, and for once, that felt like enough.

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the lamplight filled the room with a warm haze. Elphaba sat on the floor against Glinda’s bed, a book resting in her lap. Glinda sat behind her, fingers weaving through Elphaba’s hair as she hummed softly. Outside, the silver hue of the moonlight filtered through the window. For the last several nights, the two of them had found themselves in a scene like this one—Elphaba trying to read and Glinda finding any excuse to touch her. She’d tried, really she had, to focus on the words in front of her, but it was becoming increasingly impossible to notice anything but Glinda.

Her delicate fingers ran through Elphaba’s hair, and flush crept up her neck. It should have been a simple act of friendship, but Elphaba’s body didn’t seem to know the difference. A shiver ran down her spine as Glinda’s fingers grazed the back of her neck. With a hitch in her breath, Elphaba stilled, trying to focus on anything but the way her skin prickled and the warmth radiating from deep within her. The air thickened, pressing down on her chest and forcing her to hold her breath. Glinda’s soft giggle cut through the tension, pulling Elphaba’s attention.

“Hmm?” Elphaba blinked, her gaze fixed on the page she definitely wasn’t reading. Glinda’s bright laughter filled the quiet room.

“You haven’t turned a page in ages,” she teased, leaning over Elphaba’s shoulder to peer at her book. Her breath brushed Elphaba’s ear, and Elphaba stiffened. Her throat tightened, and she found herself unable to move, the words of the page swimming in front of her.

“I—I’m reading,” Elphaba muttered, though the words came out unconvincing. She swallowed hard. She didn’t dare look at Glinda, afraid the tension would be written all over her face.

“Oh?” Glinda’s voice dropped to a mock whisper, her chest pressing flush against Elphaba’s back as she leaned in closer. The warmth of her body sent a wave of heat coursing through Elphaba. “Are you sure? Am I distracting you, Miss Thropp?” The words were light, playful, but the feeling of Glinda’s fingers trailing up her neck sent a jolt through her spine. Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse quickening, but she couldn’t tear herself away from the sensation.

“I…” Elphaba’s throat went dry as she trailed off, her body rigid, trying desperately to stay still. She was struggling to keep herself composed, but the closer Glinda leaned into her, the harder it became to remember why she was even trying. Before Elphaba could gather herself, Glinda leaned back, her laughter filling the room, and her hands resting lightly on Elphaba’s shoulders.

“You’re so easy to tease,” Glinda said, her voice dripping with playful affection. A wave of heat washed over Elphaba, thick and unrelenting in her chest. Glinda’s laughter lingered in her ears, warm and sweet, and it only amplified the heat rising within her. Her skin prickled under Glinda’s touch, her stomach flipping.

She had to do something—anything. Sitting there, rooted to the floor trying not to think about how close Glinda was—the way every touch made her shiver—was no longer an option. Elphaba shot to her feet so fast her book toppled from her lap, landing with a thud on the floor. The sharp motion startled Glinda, who sat back with wide eyes, her hands mid-air. Heat flushed Elphaba’s cheeks.

“I think,” she said, her voice unusually loud. “I think we should go do something tomorrow. Go out, I mean.”

“Go out?” Glinda tilted her head, surprise giving way to curiosity. “You mean, like, together?”

“Yes,” Elphaba said, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “I mean—yes why not? We’ve been cooped up here for weeks. Or… the library,” she added hastily. “It’s been ages since you’ve dolled up and done something fun.” Glinda blinked, her shoulders stiffening and drawing back, and Elphaba winced at her words. “Not that you need to get dolled up,” she rushed to say. “You’re already—well, I just thought it might be nice to go somewhere. Stretch our legs. And you do love glammifying.” Elphaba let out a short, nervous laugh. Glinda’s face softened into a smile, her eyes brightening.

“Hmm. It has been a while since we went out, hasn’t it?”

“Yes!” Elphaba said quickly, relief flooding through her. “Exactly. Something different.” Glinda tapped a finger to her lips, her eyes lighting up as she thought. Elphaba’s gaze faltered, her focus snagging on the gentle curve of Glinda’s mouth, the way her fingertips grazed over it, slow and deliberate. Elphaba’s throat tightened, her tongue going heavy in her mouth. She swallowed, willing herself to look away. Glinda clapped her hands together with sudden excitement.

“We could go shopping!” she exclaimed. “Or—oh, the museum! They have that special Quadling Culture exhibit you mentioned wanting to see.” Elphaba blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected Glinda to remember such a small, passing comment. She wasn’t even sure if she’d said it to Glinda—in fact, she was fairly certain she mentioned it to Nessa, who’d brushed it off.

“I—well,” Elphaba faltered, glancing down at her book lying forgotten on the floor. “Yes, whatever you like.”

“Whatever I like?” Glinda giggled, tilting her head, her golden curls swaying as she studied Elphaba. “You’re being awfully generous tonight.” Elphaba shifted on her feet, her hand rubbing the back of her neck.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just thought it might be nice to see you in your element again.” Glinda stared at her for a moment, her eyes soft and thoughtful, pinning Elphaba into place. It was overwhelming how easy it was to fall into them, to forget everything else—her boundaries, her sense, the quiet ache that warned her this wasn’t hers to want. In those moments held captive by Glinda’s gaze, it was too easy to believe otherwise. Too easy to feel something so impossible.

“A day out—just us. How exciting!” Glinda’s grin widened; her excitement was contagious. As she bounced over to her wardrobe to start preparing for the next day, Elphaba leaned down to pick her book up from the floor. She clutched it tightly in her hands, her body still humming with the lingering sensation of Glinda’s touch.

She sat back in her bed, staring down at the book, her heart pounding in her chest. Glinda had no idea. She never would. With a sigh, Elphaba opened the book, the words blurring in front of her.

A day out. Just the two of them. It could be exactly what she needed—a chance to clear her mind. To remember what it felt like to be normal—to not be undone by the simplest touch, by Glinda’s laughter, or the soft brush of her fingers. Maybe, if they spent the day out of Shiz, things would feel… normal again.

She turned her head, watching Glinda hum as she pulled clothes from her wardrobe, her voice light and carefree. For a moment, Elphaba wished that it could be simple. That her feelings could be simple.

But they weren’t.

Tomorrow would come, and maybe—just maybe—things could finally go back to normal.

The bell above the boutique chimed as Elphaba and Glinda stepped inside. The scent of linen and new fabric greeted them, blending with the faint welcome from the front desk. Elphaba hesitated in the doorway, tugging at her sleeves while her eyes darted over the racks of pastel dresses and sparkling accessories. It already felt wrong, like she didn’t belong.

“Oh, don’t look so grim, Elphie,” Glinda chirped, spinning to face her with a grin. “This will be fun!”

“Are you sure you don’t already own everything in this shop?” Elphaba said dryly, gesturing vaguely at the racks around them. Glinda rolled her eyes but laughed, the sound light and infectious.

“I’m always in need of something new. Especially for the Spring Social!” she said with a wink. Then, with a glance up and down Elphaba, she added, “And maybe you’ll find something too.”

“Doubtful,” Elphaba snorted. Glinda ignored her, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her deeper into the boutique.

“Just let me work my magic. You’ll see,” she said.

As Glinda dove into the racks like they were filled with treasure, Elphaba trailed behind, hands shoved into her coat pockets. It was fascinating, in a way, watching Glinda move through the shop, her hands brushing over fabrics with a light, deliberate touch. She moved with purpose, graceful and confident, her head tilting to consider colors and cuts. Elphaba caught herself staring, cheeks warming when Glinda glanced at her with a smile. Then, Glinda handed her a dress—powder blue with crystal detailing—and Elphaba held it close to her chest without question. She didn’t feel like she belonged in the world of silks and satins, but Glinda made it seem less daunting.

“Hold this, please,” Glinda said, handing her another dress and flashing a quick smile.

“Sure,” Elphaba muttered, hiding a small smile as she adjusted the growing pile in her arms. She liked that Glinda asked her to hold things, liked how it felt to be useful. She followed Glinda to the fitting rooms, handing her the dresses as she disappeared inside one. Elphaba stood awkwardly near the racks, waiting. The shopkeeper gave her a curious glance, but she ignored it, pretending to be interested in a jewelry display nearby.

“Elphie?” Glinda’s voice carried through the boutique, light and lilting. “Could you come here for a second?”

“Uh, what?” Elphaba froze.

“I need help with the zipper on this one,” Glinda called, her voice muffled. “Please?” Elphaba swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and glanced around as if the shopkeeper might somehow intervene but there was no rescue in sight. Her pulse quickened as she shuffled toward the fitting room. Elphaba knocked on the door to Glinda’s stall, waiting for her acknowledgement before slipping inside. She pushed the door open cautiously, the soft creak of the hinge loud in the silence.

A warm glow caught on the sequins and shimmer of the blush pink dress Glinda wore, casting faint ripples of light across the fitting room’s walls. Elphaba’s gaze fell, and her breath caught. Glinda’s back was fully exposed, the zipper of the gown undone from the nape of her neck to the curve of her lower back. Pale, smooth skin stretched endlessly before her, framed by delicate straps that sat precariously on her shoulders. Glinda’s golden hair was swept over one side, leaving her neck and shoulder exposed. The room felt smaller somehow, hotter, the air thick and stifling.

Elphaba’s gaze lingered, tracing the curve of Glinda’s back. She swallowed, her mouth watering, and hands itching with the maddening desire to touch. To press her palm against Glinda’s back, to run her hand down those delicate curves, to feel if her skin was as soft as it looked.

“Elphie?” Glinda’s voice broke through, pulling Elphaba’s attention. The soft lilt of her name on Glinda’s lips sent a ripple of heat down her chest, settling low in her abdomen. Elphaba blinked, her heart hammering in her chest.

“You—uh…” she swallowed hard. “It’s stuck?” Glinda nodded, glancing at Elphaba over her shoulder with a small, shy smile.

“Yes, and I can’t quite…” Glinda trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward the zipper, the motion shifting one of the straps, sliding slightly off her shoulder. Elphaba nearly choked.

“Right,” she managed, her voice cracking. She stepped forward, her movements slow and hesitant. The scent of lavender grew stronger the closer she got, light and intoxicating, and by the time she was standing just behind Glinda, she was sure her pulse was audible.

Up close, the dress seemed to glitter even more, the tiny beads catching the light with every subtle movement Glinda made. Elphaba hardly noticed; her attention was fixed on the exposed expanse of Glinda’s back, the way her skin seemed to glow, impossibly smooth and warm. Her fingers twitched as she reached for the zipper, brushing bare skin. Glinda shivered beneath her touch, and Elphaba felt it like a ripple through her own body.

“Sorry,” Elphaba mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” Glinda said softly, her voice like silk. She tilted her head to the side, giving Elphaba better access. Another wave of heat washed over Elphaba. She slid the zipper upward, hands trembling as she went. It felt agonizingly slow as inch by inch more of the dress’s intricate design was revealed—and less of the skin that had left her thoroughly undone. It was impossible to ignore the way her fingers skimmed over Glinda’s spine, or the way Glinda seemed to lean into her touch.

“There,” Elphaba murmured as she slid the zipper into place, her voice rough.  Glinda didn’t move, and neither did Elphaba. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

“Elphie,” Glinda said softly, turning to face her. Her voice was low, almost like a sigh, and the intimacy in it wrapped around Elphaba like a second skin. She was so close. Her gaze was bright and searching, her lips parted and impossibly soft. Her head spun as Glinda reached out, her fingers ghosting over Elphaba’s wrist. “You’re so gentle. You always are,” she said, her words soft, almost reverent. Elphaba tried to answer, but the words caught in her throat. Glinda’s hand lingered, her touch light but electrifying, a surge that threatened to overwhelm her.

And then, as if the universe hadn’t punished Elphaba enough, Glinda smiled—small, private, and devastatingly beautiful.

“Thank you,” Glinda whispered, her fingers brushing against the inside of Elphaba’s wrist. She reached back to adjust her dress, and Elphaba’s throat burned, her chest aching. She stepped back, nearly tripping over the rug in desperation to escape.

“I should—uh—go wait out there,” she stammered, voice shaking as she fumbled for the door handle. Glinda nodded, but her expression was unreadable, her eyes following Elphaba as she left.

Elphaba leaned against the wall outside the fitting room, trying to steady her breath. Her pulse raced, and her thoughts swirled, replaying every agonizing detail. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to focus on something—anything—other than the memory of Glinda’s back and the way she shivered when Elphaba touched her.

“Elphie?” Glinda’s voice pulled her back, soft but insistent. Elphaba’s eyes snapped open as Glinda stepped out of the fitting room, the pink dress still clinging to her figure. She looked radiant. Her cheeks flushed with the faintest hint of color, and Elphaba swallowed hard, determined to keep her expression neutral. “Well? What do you think?” Glinda asked, spinning in place so the fabric flared out, catching the light in a cascade of shimmering pink. Elphaba nodded, her mouth dry.

“It’s… nice,” she managed.

“Nice? That’s all you have to say?” Glinda arched a brow, her lips twitching with amusement.

“It’s very you. Bright,” Elphaba said. She tilted her head, meeting Glinda’s gaze. “And beautiful… in a way that’s a little unfair.” Glinda’s smile faltered slightly, the playful glimmer in her eyes softening into something more delicate. She seemed off guard, and her lips parted as if to say something, but the words never came. Instead, she looked at Elphaba with faint wonder, pink rising in her cheeks. Glinda cleared her throat.

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue with that,” she said, tilting her head with a small, teasing smile. “It’s nice to know you have some taste, Elphie.” Her tone was light, but the faint flush of her cheeks lingered as she turned back toward the fitting room.

Elphaba focused again on the jewelry display as she waited for Glinda. Moments later, she appeared, the pink dress draped carefully over her arm. Her lips curved into a thoughtful smile as her eyes darted toward a rack near the back of the boutique. She grabbed Elphaba’s hand and pulled her toward it.

“What are you doing?” Elphaba asked, a faint laugh escaping her lips.

“Finding something equally unfairly beautiful for you,” Glinda replied. Elphaba’s stomach churned as Glinda’s fingers weaved through the racks. These were not the usual dresses Elphaba wore, and certainly not the typical colors. Elphaba had long ago resigned herself to a mostly black attire; she couldn’t go wrong there.

“I don’t need anything,” Elphaba said, but Glinda ignored her. She pulled a dress out, studying it before putting it back on the rack. Her lips twisted as she flipped through the rack, focused on her task. A moment later, her face lit up, and she plucked out a dress with a triumphant flourish.

“This,” Glinda announced, holding up the dress with a little shake to show off its subtle shimmer. It was a faint gold, not black, but Elphaba was drawn to it. Glinda stepped closer, holding the dress up against Elphaba’s frame. “Champagne gold,” she said, her eyes flicking over Elphaba. She spoke almost to herself. “The color will bring out the warmth in your skin, and the cut is simple but flattering. You’ll look—”

“I don’t—” Elphaba cut her off.

“Just try it,” Glinda interrupted, her tone firm but gentle. “Please. For me?” Elphaba hesitated, caught in the softness of her gaze. The way her eyes sparkled with quiet excitement made the request impossible to argue.

“Fine,” Elphaba muttered, snatching the dress from Glinda’s hand. “But only because you won’t stop badgering me.”

“That’s the spirit!” Glinda beamed. “Off you go!”

Elphaba trudged toward the fitting rooms, muttering under her breath. Inside, she slipped out of her coat and boots, carefully pulling the dress over her head. The fabric felt strange against her skin—softer, finer than anything she was used to wearing. She adjusted the straps, thinner than her usual attire, though they did bring out the tone in her arms, she had to admit. The subtle V-shaped neckline felt more vulnerable than she was used to. Tilting her head, she ran her hands down the fabric, watching it shimmer in the light. The dress was elegant; there was no other word for it. But to her surprise, Elphaba didn’t hate it the way she thought she would. It was different, but it didn’t feel wrong. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt… pretty.

“Elphaba?” Glinda’s voice drifted through the door, tentative but curious. “Are you alright in there?”

“I’m coming,” Elphaba replied, taking a deep breath before stepping out. The moment she appeared, Glinda’s breath hitched audibly. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she stared, her lips slightly parted. Elphaba crossed her arms over herself, the fabric of the dress pressing against her skin in a way that felt too exposed. A lump rose in her throat as she waited, dreading what Glinda might say.

“Elphie,” Glinda whispered, her voice soft with wonder. She stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over Elphaba with an intensity that made her cheeks burn. “You look—” she paused, as if searching for the right word. “Stunning.”

“It’s just a dress,” Elphaba muttered, dropping her gaze and tightening her arms around herself. The weight of Glinda’s stare was unbearable. Without a word, Glinda stepped closer, placing her hands gently on Elphaba’s upper arms. Her touch was warm, her movements deliberate as her fingers slid down, slowly unfurling Elphaba’s crossed arms. Glinda’s hands found hers, their fingers entwining as she coaxed Elphaba’s gaze upward.

“No,” Glinda murmured, shaking her head. Her smile was soft, almost reverent. “It’s not the dress—it’s you.” She gave Elphaba’s hands a gentle squeeze, her eyes glowing with sincerity.

Elphaba’s fingers twitched in Glinda’s grip, but she didn’t pull away. The intensity in her gaze made Elphaba’s throat dry, and she opened her mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. Glinda tilted her head, her smile growing, like she could sense the conflict bubbling under Elphaba’s skin.

“You know,” Glinda said, her voice lighter now, though her hands stayed steady in Elphaba’s. “There was a moment when you came out. It was like…” she trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she searched for the right words. Elphaba frowned, unsure where Glinda was going.

“What?” Elphaba asked, her voice low, almost defensive.

“You lit up,” Glinda said softly. “For just a clock tick. It was like… you let yourself feel good in it. Like maybe you stopped doubting yourself.” She hesitated, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Elphaba’s face burned as she turned her head away, shaking it slightly.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice resolute. “I’ll never wear it again anyway.” She dropped Glinda’s hands, stepping back.

“Oh, yes you will,” Glinda said brightly, crossing the distance Elphaba put between them. “Because I’m buying it for you.” She nodded decisively.

“What?” Elphaba blinked. “Glinda, no. You’re not—”

“Let’s not quarrel,” Glinda interrupted, raising a hand, her tone light and teasing. She placed her hands on Elphaba’s shoulders, spinning her around and giving her a gentle push toward the fitting room. “Go change out of it so I can take it to the front. And don’t argue, dear, I’ll win.”

Elphaba wanted to protest, to insist that she didn’t need the dress, but the sheer delight on Glinda’s face was impossible to fight. She gave a quiet, exasperated sigh, shaking her head as she retreated to the fitting room.

Elphaba closed the door behind her with a soft click, leaning against it for a moment. The mirror stood directly in front of her, and she stepped closer, letting her eyes wander over her reflection. Glinda’s words echoed in her mind: You’re beautiful.

Her fingers brushed over the fabric, smoothing it absentmindedly. Hearing Glinda say it had felt strange—so strange she’d almost pushed it away, tried to forget about it. But now, standing alone, the compliment lingered like the warmth of Glinda’s hands in hers; soft but insistent, the glow of embers refusing to fade. Elphaba tilted her head, studying the way the neckline framed her collarbone and how the fabric seemed to catch the light with every slight movement. Her lips quirked in a fleeting smile, before she shook her head, her reflection softening.

“Just a dress,” she murmured under her breath. She lingered, fingers trailing over the fabric before finally stepping out of it. She folded it over her arm, careful not to crease it. Her thoughts drifted back to Glinda, the way her voice had softened, the awe in her eyes when she’d spoken.

Beautiful.

The word fluttered through her mind, tugging a slight smile to her lips. Warmth crept across her cheeks, blooming in her chest like a quiet, steady flame.

Later, Elphaba and Glinda walked through an exhibit at the Museum of Ozian History. It was a special showcase of Quadling culture, a collection of intricate glasswork, shimmering rubies, and artwork of the marshlands’ wild beauty. The air was alive with voices as visitors admired the pieces on display. They wandered through the exhibit, stopping in front of a glass-blown sculpture. It was a complex piece, a flowing spiral of translucent blue and green glass, catching the light with each subtle movement.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Glinda said, her voice light but full of wonder as she reached a hand out, ghosting over the edge of the casing. “The way it almost looks like it’s alive, like it’s moving. It feels like part of the marshlands.” Elphaba blinked, her attention pulled away from the artwork.

“You think so?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“Of course! Don’t you see it?” Glinda’s eyes were sparkling with excitement, her gaze still fixed on the piece. “The way the glass bends and curves, just like the reeds in the marsh. It’s all so fluid, like it could change at any moment.” Elphaba watched her, an unexpected warmth filling her chest. Glinda seemed so connected to the piece, in a way that Elphaba hadn’t expected. Glinda had always seemed… well, a little more preoccupied with the lighter things.

“You surprise me sometimes,” Elphaba muttered, half to herself, as they moved to the next piece. Glinda turned to her with a teasing smile, a sparkle in her eyes.

“Surprise you? Oh, come on, Elphie. You think I don’t know art?” she teased, nudging Elphaba with her shoulder. “Quadling glasswork is—well, it’s beautiful. Their whole culture is rooted in art, and everything is incorporated into the marsh. Even their architecture is fascinating; houses floating between trees, crops on small platforms hooked by ropes. It’s a poor country, but rich in beauty. Just like this.” She gestured to a ruby necklace on display, its rich color almost glowing in the muted light of the museum. Elphaba couldn’t help but chuckle, a small sound.

“I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised,” she said, and Glinda flashed her a quick grin before moving to the next piece. Elphaba followed a few steps behind, her gaze lingering on Glinda as she moved onto the next display.

There was something captivating about the way Glinda studied the art—her usual bubbly energy replaced by an almost reverent stillness. It was rare to see her like this, quiet and thoughtful, as if the world beyond the glass didn’t exist. Elphaba felt a flicker of longing, watching Glinda find beauty in something so delicate, so removed from the glittering parties and carefully curated charm she usually inhabited. It was rare, and beautiful in a way that forced Elphaba to look away, her cheeks warm with the thought. She shifted her focus to the glass sculpture in front of them. Its translucence reminded her of something fragile, like the way a thought could slip from your mind if you weren’t paying attention. She blinked as she heard Glinda speak, her voice barely audible over the bustle around them. Elphaba turned towards Glinda, placing her hand on her back as she leaned closer.

“Sorry, what?” she asked.

“I asked if you liked this one,” Glinda smiled, leaning a little closer.  Elphaba turned to look at her, the distance between them seeming less than it had been earlier. Conscious of her hand on Glinda’s back, she removed it, only for Glinda to loop her arm through Elphaba’s, tugging her a little closer. Elphaba cleared her throat.

“It’s fragile,” Elphaba said. “Like it could shatter if I breathed on it.” Glinda tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. She hummed in agreement.

“It’s delicate, yes, but it holds something inside it. I think I like that,” she mused, lost in the art. Elphaba couldn’t help but smile faintly. In this moment, Glinda somehow seemed more real. More grounded. Before Elphaba could respond, they were interrupted by a voice.

“Well, if it isn’t Glinda the Good and the famous Green Girl,” Avaric’s voice cut through the noise. He appeared with a girl on his arm—someone Elphaba recognized, though she didn’t know her name. Avaric continued, his tone playful. “Are you two here to appreciate culture, or just to look pretty?” Elphaba raised an eyebrow.

“And what about you, Avaric? Did you stumble in here by accident, or are you hoping to add ‘pretentious art critic’ to your long list of useless talents?” Elphaba said dryly, and Glinda snorted softly, leaning closer to Elphaba.

“Be nice, Elphie. He’s obviously here to impress someone.” Her gaze flicked to the girl on Avaric’s arm, whose cheeks flushed under the attention.

“Oh, very funny,” Avaric said, though he grinned despite himself. “Not all of us are as effortlessly charming as you two. Some of us work for it.”

“Charming?” Elphaba deadpanned. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Careful, Thropp,” Avaric warned with mock seriousness. “Keep that up, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

“Perish the thought,” Elphaba retorted, though her lips twitched in amusement.

“Anyway,” Avaric said, lowering his voice and stepping closer. “If you two really want to experience some culture, we’re heading to the Philosophy Club later. All of us. I guarantee it’ll be… enlightening.” Elphaba’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the club. She’d never been, but it had a reputation for unruliness. Before Elphaba could think of a polite way to reject the invitation, Glinda spoke up, her voice sweet but laced with a mischievous edge.

“Why not? Sounds like fun,” she said, tilting her chin up slightly, as if daring Avaric. Then, she squeezed Elphaba’s arm lightly, a subtle signal.

“Yes,” Elphaba stammered, her voice cracking slightly. “We’ll be there.” Avaric winked at them, his grin bordering on obnoxious.

“See you later, then. Try not to be too out of place.” He turned to leave, his arm around the girl, who cast a curious glance over her shoulder before they disappeared into the crowd. Elphaba sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair and stepping in front of Glinda.

“We’re not going to the Philosophy Club,” she said. Glinda gave her a wide-eyed, innocent look that didn’t fool Elphaba for a second.

“Why not? You said we needed to get out, didn’t you? This seems like the perfect opportunity,” she said. Elphaba crossed her arms, leveling her with a skeptical glare.

“Glinda, the Philosophy Club is practically synonymous with bad decisions. It’s not the place for us.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Glinda teased, stepping closer. “It’s not like I’m suggesting we join the Clock of the Time Dragon. Besides,” her lips curved into a sly smile, “our friends will be there.”

“Our friends?” Elphaba repeated, incredulous.

“Yes. Avaric’s our friend, isn’t he?” Glinda said sweetly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Friend is a strong word,” Elphaba muttered, her tone dry. Glinda laughed, slipping her arm through Elphaba’s again.

“Well, I think it’ll be fun. You’re the one who always talks about expanding our horizons.”

“I don’t think the Philosophy Club is expanding anyone’s horizons,” Elphaba said flatly, though her protests were already weakening under Glinda’s charm. She leaned her head against Elphaba’s shoulder.

“Come on, Elphie,” she coaxed softly, the nickname laced with an endearing playfulness. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Elphaba stared down at her, reluctant amusement on her face.

“I’ll let you know when we inevitably regret this.”

“I’ll take it,” Glinda chirped, already steering them toward the museum’s exit.

The Philosophy Club was thick with laughter and music, the low ceilings amplifying the sound. Smoke wove through the air, thick with the scent of herbs and something sweeter. Elphaba resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. The dim light cast flickering shadows that made everything feel slightly off-kilter, like a dream. Tables clustered in cozy nooks were occupied by diverse groups, their faces illuminated by the flickering glow of lanterns. At the center of each table stood an intricate glass apparatus, its craftmanship unmistakably Quadling. Delicate tubes twisted like vines around their bases, etched with a green pattern that seemed to pulse gently with the low hum of conversation.

“This is… cozy,” Glinda said, shuffling closer to Elphaba.

“Cozy,” Elphaba echoed flatly, scanning the room with sharp eyes. She took a step forward, her hand hovering near Glinda’s back, ready to pull her away should anyone get too close. A wave from across the room caught her attention—Avaric, naturally. He was seated at a corner table, grinning like he owned the place. The girl from the museum sat next to him, along with Boq, Crope, and Tibbett, all nursing glasses of wine.

“Well, if it isn’t our resident intellectual,” Avaric drawled as they approached, his grin widening to include Glinda. “And, of course, Lady Glinda. Come, sit! We saved you the best spots.” Elphaba bit back a retort and sank stiffly into the booth beside Glinda. The brush of Glinda’s skirt against her leg was light, but impossible to ignore.

“Wine?” Boq asked, sliding two glasses across the table. Elphaba eyed the liquid warily. It was a deep, jewel-toned red—practically glowing under the low light.

“What’s in it?” she asked sharply. Boq raised an eyebrow and hesitated before speaking.

“Wine…” he replied, his tone lifting at the end, bemused. Glinda picked up her glass before Elphaba could press further, swirling the liquid delicately.

“How quaint,” she said, tilting her head and studying its color. Then, she took a small sip. Elphaba watched her closely, waiting for any sign of regret. When none came, she reluctantly reached for her own glass, though she didn’t drink right away. “Relax, Elphie,” Glinda murmured, leaning close as she rested a hand on Elphaba’s thigh.

Elphaba froze at the contact, her breath hitching and her pulse racing.  She took a cautious sip, anything to distract her from the warmth of Glinda’s hand—or the way her thumb moved in slow, deliberate strokes along her leg. The wine was rich, surprisingly smooth, with a faintly spicy undertone. She set the glass back on the table, unimpressed.

“You don’t have to look so pained,” Glinda teased, her voice barely audible as she gave Elphaba’s leg a faint squeeze.

“I’ll save my enthusiasm for when we leave,” Elphaba replied tightly, pouring all her focus into ignoring the searing heat that radiated beneath Glinda’s palm. It spread like wildfire, up her leg all the way to her throat, consuming every breath before it could take shape. Glinda turned to the girl beside Avaric, breaking the spell, but her hand didn’t move.

“We didn’t have the chance to meet properly earlier,” Glinda said. “I’m Glinda, and this is Elphaba.”

“Milla,” the girl said with a polite smile. Elphaba offered her a tight nod, struggling to cool her expression.

“I’ve seen you around campus before,” Glinda continued. “I’m surprised we haven’t already met.”

“She’s a year below us,” Avaric chimed in, sliding his arm around Milla with a grin. “We met in the equestrian club.”

“Yeah,” Tibbett interjected with a laugh. “Avaric’s horse ran straight into hers, knocked her right off.”

“How very romantic,” Elphaba said dryly, arching a brow.

“It was!” Tibbett exclaimed, mock sweetness dripping from his voice. He clasped his hands to his chest with a dramatic sigh. “You should have seen the way Avaric jumped off his horse to her rescue. It was love at first sight.” He leaned against Crope, who gasped theatrically, earning scattered laughter from the table.

“Alright, alright,” Avaric said, his cheeks flushing red. “Enough of that.”

The conversation at the table ebbed and flowed, with Avaric leading the charge. Crope and Tibbett were laughing about something, their faces flushed from drinking, while Boq kept trying to interject with facts about the wine. Elphaba stayed quiet, her eyes flicking between the unfamiliar crowd and Glinda, who engaged Milla in conversation. Crope leaned forward, gathering everyone’s attention as a sly grin spread across his face.

“All right, ladies. You’ve had your wine. Now it’s time for the real Philosophy Club experience,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Elphaba asked, glancing at Glinda who seemed intrigued.

“Emerald Haze,” Tibbett chimed in, his grin matching Crope’s. “You can’t come here and not try it.” Avaric reached for the glass at the center of the table, its swirling green smoke catching Elphaba’s attention. The motion of it was oddly mesmerizing, twisting and unfurling as though alive.

“It’s not about getting drunk or stupid,” Avaric said. “It’s about clarity. Perspective.” Glinda leaned forward with interest.

“What’s in it?” she asked, her gaze flicking between the glass and Avaric.

“Just herbs,” Boq said quickly, eager to reassure. “Nothing dangerous. The Quadlings swear by it.” Elphaba studied the smoke for a moment, her skepticism battling with a faint sense of curiosity. Beside her, Glinda glanced over with a mischievous smile.

“Well?” Glinda prompted, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Elphaba sighed, and Glinda nudged her shoulder lightly. “Don’t act like you aren’t a little intrigued. Think of it as research,” she added playfully. Elphaba tilted her head, pretending to consider her options.

“We did spend all that time at the Quadling Culture exhibit,” she mused aloud.

“And what better way to engage without trekking to the marsh ourselves?” Glinda added, smile widening as she leaned closer. Elphaba’s lips quirked upward.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for the glass. “Hand it over.”

Avaric handed the mouthpiece to Glinda first, the thin, flexible hose curling like a serpent between the glass base and her hand. Glinda studied the mouthpiece, its metal tip between her fingers. After a moment’s hesitation, she raised it to her lips and inhaled gently, the soft hiss of the air through the hose barely audible over the low hum of the room.

“Well?” Tibbett asked, grinning. Glinda coughed lightly, her eyes wide and bright.

“It’s… warm,” she said, a laugh bubbling out. She passed the mouthpiece to Elphaba, who eyed it warily before taking her turn. The sensation hit her in waves: earthy and grounding at first, then light and sweet, like a spring breeze blowing through her chest. She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift and dissolve.

“It’s not awful,” she admitted, earning a cheer from Tibbett.

The chatter at the table grew louder, and the flickering lantern began to take on a warmer glow. Colors seemed to deepen, the reds of the cushions turning richer, the greens of the swirling smoke almost luminous. Glinda leaned toward Elphaba, her laugh soft and musical.

“This place is so strange,” she murmured, her hand brushing Elphaba’s arm. “Don’t you think?” Before Elphaba could respond, Avaric launched into a story, his voice rising above the noise. Glinda tilted her head toward Elphaba, her curls brushing Elphaba’s shoulder. “Do you want to step away for a bit?” she whispered. Elphaba glanced at her, warmth spreading through her limbs. She gave a curt nod, and Glinda grinned, tugging Elphaba’s hand.

They slipped from the booth, unnoticed by the others. The air seemed cooler away from the table, though still tinged with smoke and the faint hum of voices. Glinda led them to a quieter corner near a low arched window. Outside, the lights of the town shimmered like stars. Glinda sat in the window sill, and Elphaba stood in front of her.

“I feel different,” Glinda admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Elphaba shifted closer, the warmth thrumming between them like a live wire. Her hands rested on Glinda’s legs, and she felt Glinda’s breath hitch beneath her palm. Glinda’s gaze flickered down to Elphaba’s hands before slowly meeting her eyes again. Her pupils were dark and wide, nearly swallowing her irises in the dim lighting. “But good,” she added, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the room.

Her lips parted slightly, a quiet inhale drawing in her before her tongue darted out, tracing the curve of her lower lip with a languid precision that made time seem to falter. Elphaba’s breath caught. Her eyes locked to the movement, lingering like her very existence hinged on the way Glinda’s lips moved. Heat surged through her, tingling through her body before settling in her abdomen.

“Yeah,” she managed, her voice hushed, throat dry. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the club faded into a distant hum, and Elphaba found herself caught in the pull of Glinda’s gaze. It was endless and deep, a powerful undercurrent pulling her in and holding her there. She was Glinda’s captive, unable to do anything but watch as Glinda tilted her head, the corners of her mouth lifting into a faint, curious smile. Her cheeks were pink, a soft flush that made her seem more radiant, more alive.

“You’re…” Elphaba began, her voice low and uneven. The haze had her feeling reckless, and the words were rising from someplace deep, slipping free before she could stop them. “You’re bewitching.” Glinda’s breath caught, her smile faltering as she looked down, her lashes fluttering. The pink in her cheeks deepened as she glanced away.

Elphaba’s stomach twisted, heat rushing to her face as the weight of what she’d just said settled over her. She wanted to take it back, to bury the word before it could linger too long between them. But then Glinda looked up again, her expression soft and searching, and Elphaba faltered, wondering why she’d ever want to take it back.

“I—” Glinda began, but her gaze faltered, drifting past Elphaba to something in the distance. Elphaba turned, catching sight of Avaric’s booming laughter as he greeted Fiyero, who had just arrived. Her stomach sank at the sight, an unwelcome reminder of everything she didn’t want to think about. She turned back, determined to focus on Glinda.

“We can leave if you want,” she said softly, the words pulling Glinda’s attention back to her. Glinda’s hands settled lightly on Elphaba’s waist, grounding her in a way that felt both steadying and entirely destabilizing. Her expression softened, her eyes flickering with something unreadable but undeniably vulnerable.

“I’m perfectly fine right here,” Glinda murmured, her voice low and steady. Then, just barely above a whisper, she added, “With you.”

 Elphaba’s waist burned where Glinda’s hands rested, and the heat spread under her skin. Her throat tightened as a thick, suffocating feeling filled her throat—a dam holding back a flood of emotions she didn’t dare release. Elphaba shifted slightly, and she cleared her throat, shaking the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

“So,” she started, her voice a little uneven. “Why did you break up with Fiyero anyway? You never said.” Glinda’s brow furrowed, her gaze flickering toward Fiyero across the room before returning to Elphaba. Surprise flashed in her eyes before softening into something more vulnerable. Her lips parted as if to speak but then pressed together again, and her features shifted into something almost pleading. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged, until Glinda finally spoke, her voice soft and quiet.

“Because you feel better.”

Her words hung in the air, fragile but undeniable, and Elphaba’s chest tightened. The weight of Glinda’s gaze, the hesitant longing in her eyes, made Elphaba’s pulse quicken. She looked away, her cheeks burning as a wave of heat rushed through her. Glinda’s hands tightened gently on her waist, grounding her, pulling her closer. Elphaba’s breath caught as the space between them seemed to shrink, her world narrowing until there was only Glinda, the warmth of her touch, and the moment pressing in on them.

Elphaba’s breath hitched as Glinda’s gaze flickered downward, lingering for a heartbeat too long on her lips. A quiet gasp escaped her before her body betrayed her, leaning gradually closer. Glinda mirrored the movement, the space between them shrinking with an agonizing slowness, as if the world itself were holding its breath. A tingling warmth spread through Elphaba’s body from the base of her spine and radiating outward. Her mouth felt dry, then suddenly not, as her pulse thundered in her ears.

Time seemed to stretch as their faces drew closer, an invisible force pulling them together, unyielding and unstoppable. Elphaba could see every detail—the faint dimples on Glinda’s cheeks, the delicate shimmer of her lashes, the way her lips parted.

A firm hand clapped down on Elphaba’s shoulder just before the moment could reach its peak, jolting her back to reality.

“There you are!” Avaric’s booming voice shattered the fragile intimacy. “Come on, you two! You’re missing all the fun!”

Elphaba blinked, her chest heaving as though she’d just surfaced from underwater. She turned sharply, shrugging off his hand, her body still thrumming with unspent energy. When her gaze returned to Glinda, she saw it—just a flicker, but unmistakable. Disappointment flashed across Glinda’s face before she quickly masked it, her lips curving into a soft, practiced smile. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The tension lingered, thick and suffocating, their eyes locked, tethered by an invisible thread—fragile yet unbreakable.

Glinda rose, and the moment slipped through Elphaba’s fingers like smoke. She followed Glinda back to the group, her body still humming with the moment they had shared. As they settled back in their seats, Elphaba couldn’t shake the feeling of Glinda so close beside her, the warmth of her presence a constant weight on her ribs. Every movement, every shift of Glinda’s body, felt amplified, the air between them thick with things unsaid. Though the conversation resumed around them, Elphaba couldn’t help but feel that something between them had shifted, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever be the same again.

Chapter Text

Glinda tapped her pencil against the edge of her desk, her eyes flicking toward the clock at the front of the classroom. Just a few more minutes until the weekend and then she and Elphaba could—

Elphaba.

The professor’s words blurred into the background, and warmth spread across her skin as her thoughts wandered. Elphaba’s hands on her legs, hot like molten lava flowing over her skin. Her words, low and tender—you’re bewitching. The way her breath hitched when Glinda squeezed her waist, how she leaned in, tantalizingly slow. Glinda’s cheeks burned at the memory.

It had been a week since they had almost kissed, and they hadn’t spoken about it since. She’d replayed the moment countless times, wondering if she’d imagined the way Elphaba had lingered, the way her gaze had dipped to her lips, just for a second. Elphaba hadn’t acted any differently, or at least not in the way Glinda expected her to. She’d thought—hoped—Elphaba might bring it up in that awkward, endearing way of hers. Then, Glinda could tell her the truth: that she had meant it. That she had wanted it. But now, every time they were near each other, the tension in her chest was almost unbearable, and the heat between them undeniable.

Her fingers tightened around her pencil. It was foolish, really, to think of Elphaba in that way. Elphaba probably thought of her as nothing more than her bubbly, charming friend. But the way Elphaba looked at her when she thought Glinda wasn’t paying attention was intense, so achingly tender. Her gaze felt like a secret, like something she couldn’t speak of but couldn’t hide either. And every time Glinda caught her staring, her heart fluttered.

She sighed, sinking lower in her seat as the professor droned on. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted from Elphaba, not exactly. But she couldn’t deny the desperate desire to touch and be touched. To run her fingers through Elphaba’s hair, pull her close, and press their lips together. To see if Elphaba tasted as sweet as she felt.

Her professor’s voice broke through her thoughts, snapping her back to the present.

“Before you leave,” she said, pausing to adjust her glasses, “a reminder from the headmistress: students will not be permitted to leave campus for tonight’s meteor shower. Curfew will be strictly enforced.”  Her gaze swept the room, daring anyone to defy her, before she continued, “That will be all. Dismissed.”

Glinda rose from her seat, smoothing her skirt as she joined the flow of students heading for the door. Just as she stepped into the hallway, she felt an arm sling across her shoulders.

“Glinda.” Avaric’s voice brimmed with charm and mischief. She turned to find him grinning down at her, his usual boisterous energy practically buzzing.

“What do you want, Avaric?” she asked lightly, the corners of her mouth twitching. Fiyero appeared on her other side, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His expression was more subdued but no less conspiratorial.

“We were just talking about tonight,” Fiyero said.

“Tonight?” Glinda raised her eyebrow, sensing trouble. Avaric leaned in, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“The meteor shower, of course. You didn’t think we’d actually let Morrible ruin our fun, did you?”

“You’re planning to sneak off campus?” Glinda asked, her tone apprehensive.

“We’re sneaking off campus,” Fiyero corrected smoothly.

“And what about getting caught?” Glinda said, folding her arms. “I won’t have my reputation damaged by the loss of privileges. Or expulsion.”

“Oh, relax,” Avaric said, throwing his head back dramatically. “You sound like Elphaba.” Glinda froze for half a second before scoffing.

“I do not!”

“We’ll be careful,” Fiyero assured her, cutting in before Avaric could tease her further. “Come on, Glinda, it’ll be worth it. Besides, you can’t say no until you hear the full plan.”

“The full plan?” she echoed skeptically.

“Well, not full yet,” Avaric admitted with a grin. “But Fiyero has already told everyone else to meet in the commons. We’re going there now.”

Glinda sighed. She knew she shouldn’t even entertain the idea—the thought of being expelled, the embarrassment of it, made her stomach churn. But she couldn’t deny her curiosity was piqued, so against her better judgment, she allowed them to guide her toward the commons.

The commons buzzed with its usual chatter as Glinda followed Avaric and Fiyero inside. They walked to a corner where Pfannee and Shenshen shared a couch, leaning toward each other as they whispered and giggled. Crope and Tibbett leaned against the wall, laughing over some joke.

“Finally,” Pfannee said, sitting up. “What’s all this about? I have better things to do than—”

“We’re just waiting on a couple more,” Fiyero cut in smoothly, sending her his usual charming grin. She huffed and rolled her eyes, sitting back as Glinda lowered herself onto the couch beside her. She adjusted her skirt and Shenshen leaned over Pfannee.

“Glinda, it’s been ages,” she said excitedly. “How are you?”

Before she had the chance to respond, the door creaked open, and her breath hitched at the sight of Elphaba. She instinctively straightened in her seat, her pulse quickening. Elphaba paused at the doorway, her hand braced against the frame to hold it open—Milla followed in beside her. A flicker of unease twisted in Glinda’s chest, sharp and sudden. The way Milla leaned in slightly, her head tilted toward Elphaba as she spoke sent a restless spark through her. Glinda knew it was silly; Milla was with Avaric and Elphaba was—

No. Stop.

Glinda smoothed her expression into something calm, polite, and indifferent, though her fingers twitched against the fabric of her skirt. Pfannee muttered something under her breath, but Glinda ignored her entirely, her eyes tracking Elphaba as she scanned the room. Their gazes met, a fleeting connection that sent a ripple down her spine. Elphaba nodded slightly, then made her way to an armchair adjacent to Glinda. Milla crossed the room and slipped into the seat next to Avaric, her hand brushing his arm as she settled. Glinda’s gaze drifted back to Elphaba, and their eyes locked for a brief moment before Elphaba looked away. Glinda’s chest fluttered—an electric sensation that made her feel both embarrassed and exhilarated all at once.

Just as the silence became too heavy to bear, Fiyero’s voice broke through the moment.

“So,” he said, a sly grin curling his lips. “Shall we get to it?”

“To what, exactly?” Shenshen asked, casting a suspicious glance around the room. Avaric leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“We’re sneaking out to see the meteor shower,” he said and Pfannee rolled her eyes. Before she could protest, he continued. “Oh, don’t start. It’s once in a lifetime!”

“Actually,” Elphaba said, her voice calm but cutting through the noise. “Meteor showers occur with some regularity, depending on the orbit—”

“See? Elphaba’s in!” Avaric interrupted with a triumphant grin.

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Elphaba frowned. Glinda bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Elphaba was so… adorable. The way she folded her arm contradicted the slight tug of her lips, making Glinda’s heart ache in the most pleasant way.

“Anyway,” Fiyero said, steering the conversation back to the plan. “The plan is simple. We’ll split up to avoid suspicion. Crope and Tibbett will go ahead of everyone and get everything ready. Avaric will meet Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla to help them get over the wall. Then I’ll meet Glinda and Elphaba to get them out.” He looked around the room, his expression earnest. “Easy, simple, and less risk of getting caught.” Crope and Tibbett exchanged an enthusiastic glance, while Pfannee still looked skeptical. Shenshen and Milla looked intrigued.

“It’s foolproof,” Avaric added confidently. Glinda glanced at Elphaba, whose expression was unreadable. It was a terrible idea, she knew it, but the thought of sitting under the stars with Elphaba made her stomach flip. Their eyes met and Glinda raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question.

“It is a natural phenomenon… and I’ve never seen one before,” she said. Elphaba glanced around the group, her voice softening as she added, “I’ve heard they’re beautiful.”  Then her gaze found Glinda’s, sending a flutter through her chest, and a shiver up her spine. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Well,” Glinda said. “I supposed if we’re all going, I can’t stay behind.”

“That’s the spirit,” Fiyero grinned.

The plan was hashed out in more detail by Fiyero and Avaric, their voices low but urgent. Crope and Tibbett exchanged a few words, checking on their timing, while Pfannee seemed to grow more and more skeptical by the moment. Shenshen and Milla whispered among themselves, excitement creeping into their words.

But for Glinda, it was the quiet glances exchanged between her and Elphaba that kept her attention. Subtle, fleeting, yet undeniable. Every time their eyes met, her heart gave an uninvited flutter. Each glance seemed to stretch the space between them, a quiet, aching longing that she could barely keep in check. The air between them buzzed, and Glinda felt the pull of it in every fiber of her being.

When Fiyero clapped his hands together, bringing them all back to the present, Glinda blinked.

“Alright then,” he said with a grin. “You all know what you’re doing. We’ll meet later tonight.”

The group began to rise, the excitement of the plan still buzzing in the air. Glinda stood, her thoughts still spinning, when she felt a familiar presence behind her. A warm pressure settled on her back—Elphaba’s hand, light but firm, guiding her slightly forward. A shiver ran down Glinda’s spine at the unexpected contact, her breath catching for a moment as she straightened, and her heart beating faster than it had any right to. She leaned ever so slightly into the touch, the simple gesture lighting a flame in her chest. Elphaba’s voice broke through the quiet as she leaned in.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” she asked, her words soft and meaningful.

“A little,” Glinda said with a small smile.

“You’ll be fine,” Elphaba said.

“I know,” Glinda said, meeting her gaze. “I’ll be with you.”

The moment lingered, delicate and charged, before they finally moved toward the door. Glinda remained acutely aware of Elphaba’s hand still resting on her back, a steady presence as they walked. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like something more—a quiet reassurance that settled deep within her. She leaned into it, unknowingly drawing strength from the warmth of Elphaba’s touch. It was a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed, and for a brief, fleeting moment, everything else faded away. Just the two of them, side by side.

Glinda hesitated by the dormitory door, her fingers clutching the edge of her cloak as she glanced toward Elphaba. The corridor was dim and eerily quiet, the soft creak of floorboards under their feet magnified in the stillness. Her heart thudded in her chest, the thought of being caught sending a thrill of nervous energy through her.

“What’s the matter?” Elphaba asked in a low voice, her expression calm, and her eyebrow quirked in amusement. She adjusted her satchel with deliberate ease, as though sneaking out after curfew were as routine as attending class. Glinda blinked at her, marveling at this side of Elphaba—a far cry from the one who, only months ago, had been hesitant about something as innocent as a walk along the canal at night. It was strange, she thought, how quickly things seemed to change.

“Nothing,” Glinda whispered back, though her hand trembled as she clutched her cloak. “It’s just… this feels so improper.” Elphaba’s lips curved into a small smirk, the kind that was both infuriating and far too endearing.

“And yet, here you are.”

Glinda opened her mouth to respond, but the words stuck in her throat as Elphaba pushed the door open with quiet determination. The cool night air swept in, carrying with it the scent of grass and the faint rustle of leaves. Elphaba gestured for her to follow, stepping out into the shadowy campus with a confidence that both reassured and unnerved Glinda. Her chest tightened as she stepped into the cool air of an early spring night. Every sound—the crunch of gravel beneath her feet, the distant sound of an owl—felt impossibly loud. Her breath caught at a sudden sound: soft laughter and hurried footsteps nearby.

She froze, her heart leaping into her throat, but Elphaba paused only briefly, her head tilting toward the noise. Through the faint moonlight, they spotted two figures disappearing behind a nearby hedge. The couple paused, their faces illuminated just enough to show a brief, tender kiss before vanishing into the shadows.

Glinda’s cheeks flushed, a strange mix of embarrassment and longing welling up inside her. They weren’t the only ones sneaking out tonight, it seemed. The realization should have been a relief, but instead it filled her with an odd sensation—like she was intruding on something private. Something intimate. Her gaze flickered toward Elphaba, who watched the hedge with a faintly amused expression. The moonlight brushed against her sharp profile, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone, the line of her jaw. Glinda swallowed hard. How might it look to an outsider, seeing the two of them sneaking off into the night together? The thought sent a ripple of heat through her, making her acutely aware of how close Elphaba stood to her, the faint scent of her soap lingering in the air.

“Well,” Elphaba murmured, her voice tinged with dry humor. “Seems like we’re not the only ones breaking the rules tonight.” Glinda managed a small laugh, though it sounded more like a breathless exhale.

“I suppose not.” Her voice wavered, unsteady, and she instinctively pulled her cloak tighter around her, suddenly feeling exposed. Elphaba’s hand brushed lightly against her back—a fleeting gesture meant to urge her forward—but the warmth it left lingered far longer than it should have. Glinda’s breath hitched as they began walking again, her thoughts hopelessly tangled.

She glanced sideways, her gaze catching on the way the moonlight kissed Elphaba’s features, highlighting the sharp angles of her face and the quiet determination in her expression. Her throat tightened as an ache bloomed in her chest. There was something about the way Elphaba moved, steady and sure, that drew Glinda in, leaving her struggling to control the pull that had taken root deep within her.

As they walked, Glinda glanced around the quiet campus, her steps slowing as her eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the moonlight. The grounds, so familiar during the day, felt transformed—each building and tree wrapped in shadows, the usual chatter of students replaced by an eerie but beautiful silence. The stillness pressed around them, amplifying the soft click of their footsteps against the path. The trees swayed gently in the night breeze, their branches casting intricate patterns across the ground. Lights flickered faintly in the distance, their glow too far to break the enchanting darkness, but enough to keep it from feeling foreboding.

Glinda tugged her cloak tighter, though it wasn’t the chill in the air that made her shiver. It was the strangeness of it all—the way Elphaba seemed so at ease breaking the rules, her stride confident, her expression as composed as if they were on their way to class. Without meaning to, Glinda drifted closer to her, the faint warmth radiating from Elphaba drawing her in. Their shoulders brushed, and Glinda’s pulse quickened.

“Getting nervous?” Elphaba teased, glancing at her from the corner of her eye, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“Of course not!” Glinda protested, though her voice came out softer than she’d intended. Elphaba chuckled, a low, warm sound that sent a ripple of heat through Glinda.

“It’s funny,” Elphaba mused, her voice light but laced with an edge of something knowing. “Usually, you’re the one dragging me around breaking the rules.” Glinda blinked, scoffing dramatically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, trying to sound casual. Elphaba’s smile widened, and her steps slowed.

“The Ozdust Ballroom comes to mind. If I recall, students aren’t supposed to go there,” Elphaba remarked, and Glinda gasped softly, her cheeks warming as she playfully smacked Elphaba’s arm.

“That was an entirely different situation!”

“Oh? How so?” Elphaba raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing, eyes glinting mischievously. Glinda waved her hand dismissively, trying to maintain an air of composure.

“Madame Morrible has specifically forbidden leaving tonight. The Ozdust is… more of a general rule.”

“And the Philosophy Club?” Elphaba said smoothly, her voice turning sly as she tilted her head. “I’m fairly certain students aren’t supposed to go there either…”

Her words lingered, heavier now. Glinda’s steps faltered, her thoughts spinning at the mention of the club. The quiet intensity of the moment they’d shared returned without mercy, playing in her mind with vivid detail—the way Elphaba had looked at her, the warmth that had sparked between them, the almost unbearable closeness. Her breath hitched, and she pressed her lips together, unable to form a response. The silence between them grew heavy, and her gaze flickered to Elphaba’s profile, her heart aching with the things she couldn’t voice.

Elphaba’s sharp intake of breath broke through her thoughts. Before Glinda could register what was happening, Elphaba’s hand gripped her waist, pulling her swiftly off the path.

“Shh,” Elphaba whispered, her voice urgent.

They stumbled behind the trunk of a massive tree, its bark cool and rough against Glinda’s back. Elphaba pressed close, her hand braced against the tree beside Glinda’s shoulder, the other gripping her waist. The distant murmur of voices reached Glinda’s ears—muffled but unmistakable. The faint rustling of footsteps and the quiet chatter of a couple of Amas nearby sent a sharp wave of panic through her. She froze, her pulse suddenly thundering in her ears. They were too close.

But the fear didn’t last long. Elphaba’s hand remained firmly at Glinda’s waist, her fingers warm, unyielding, yet a strange comfort seemed to bleed through the pressure. She held Glinda there, rooted in place, and the world outside their bubble seemed to vanish. It was just them—close, too close. The heat from Elphaba’s body seeped through the thin layers of their cloaks, pulling Glinda in, making her pulse quicken. It was no longer fear that flooded her, but something magnetic—anchoring her to Elphaba in a way that felt like she’d never move again.

Glinda’s breath caught in her throat, stifling a gasp. Elphaba’s arm was a cage, trapping her in a way that made her heart race. Her thoughts scattered, unable to focus on anything but the space between them. She was consumed by the feeling of Elphaba’s hand at her waist, every inch of her alive with heat. The press of their bodies was too dangerous, too much. She wanted it—wanted her—wanted to feel those lips pressed against hers in a way that had been left unfinished in the Philosophy Club. She felt the sensation crawling through her veins, making her dizzy.

Glinda’s gaze snapped to Elphaba’s face; her breath unsteady. Time no longer existed. All she could focus on was Elphaba’s eyes, dark and heavy, flicking down to her lips with a look that could have melted her. Her throat tightened, and her body stilled, waiting in agony. Just do it, she thought wistfully. Kiss me.

Her chest rose and fell with a heavy, unsteady breath. Desire pooled in her stomach like liquid heat, spinning her head and leaving her dizzy with longing—no longer a question or a passing thought, but the only thing she could think of.

And then, just as Glinda thought Elphaba might lean in, her gaze flickered away, and her body stiffened slightly. The Amas had disappeared, their voices fading into the night. Elphaba exhaled sharply, stepping back, and the heat of the moment cracked like an illusion. Glinda stood there, her body still trembling with the remnants of desire, the space between them colder, but the tension still humming in the air.

Elphaba’s soft laugh broke the silence—warm and full of something that seemed almost giddy.

“That was close,” she said, and Glinda’s own laughter bubbled up in response, the sound breathless.

Elphaba’s eyes lingered on Glinda for just a moment longer, and without a word, she reached out, her hand extended in a silent invitation. The movement was easy, natural—they’d done it a thousand times before, but Glinda’s heart skipped a beat all the same. Her fingers found Elphaba’s in the cool night, their touch sparking something that hadn’t quite died, despite the distraction.

“Come on,” Elphaba murmured, her voice still low.

Glinda nodded, giving her hand a light squeeze before they began walking quickly, their steps in sync. The sounds of campus seemed far away—a quiet backdrop to the unspoken connection between them. Glinda’s mind raced, her heart still fluttering as she followed Elphaba through the shadows, toward the place where they were supposed to meet Fiyero.

Fiyero led them to a field not too far from Shiz, but far enough that they didn’t have to worry about being seen by anyone. Laughter reached Glinda’s ears as they approached, warm and inviting against the quiet rustle of the breeze. Crope and Tibbett had done a nice job of setting everything up—a few logs surrounded a large fire, its flames crackling and casting flickering shadows on the ground. Milla threw her head back in laughter, her voice carrying easily through the crisp night air. Avaric looked up from his spot next to her and threw his hands in the air.

“There they are! I was beginning to think poor Fiyero had gotten lost,” he said with mock exasperation.

“We would have arrived sooner if these two hadn’t taken their sweet time getting to the garden wall,” Fiyero teased as he walked by Avaric, giving him a playful shove.

“It takes time to put together the proper outfit for sneaking,” Glinda said, lifting her chin in mock indignation, a smile tugging her lips.

“Yes, we all know our dear Glinda has to be the best dressed out of all of us,” Pfannee said, her smirk cutting through the moment.

“And she always is!” Shenshen chimed in eagerly, her voice overly sweet. Pfannee’s eyes slid to Elphaba as she sat down on one of the logs.

“That’s a nice outfit, Miss Elphaba. You clean up well,” she said, though her nose crinkled as if the words tasted sour.

“Thank you,” Elphaba said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, she added, “That’s very rich, coming from someone who clashes with basic decency.” Pfannee’s eyebrows lifted as she blinked, stunned into silence. Crope and Tibbett burst into laughter, their delight infectious, and Glinda bit the inside of her cheek to keep her own grin in check as she settled next to Elphaba.

“Pfannee has finally met her match,” Avaric said, grinning broadly. “Finally, someone who can leave her speechless.” Pfannee huffed, rolling her eyes and turning to whisper something to Shenshen, though the red in her cheeks betrayed her irritation.

Glinda glanced sideways at Elphaba, her heart lifting at the sight of the sly, triumphant smile still playing on her lips. There was something quietly enchanting about her, magnified by the firelight dancing across her sharp features. Glinda shifted a little closer, feeling the faint chill of the night air on her shoulders despite the fire’s warmth.

“You terrible, mean thing,” Glinda whispered with a teasing lilt, though her gaze softened as it lingered on Elphaba’s profile.

“Only when someone deserves it,” Elphaba murmured back, her tone light, and her smile lingering as she looked straight ahead. Glinda let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling unreasonably full.

The group was lively, their chatter blending into the comfortable hum of the night. The fire crackled steadily, sending the occasional ember floating into the cool air. Avaric reclined back on his elbows and tossed playful jabs at anyone who dared meet his gaze. He was in the middle of teasing Tibbett when Fiyero nudged him with his foot.

“Oh, don’t think you’re off the hook Avaric,” Fiyero said, his grin sharp. “We all saw you and Milla sneaking off after dinner the other night.” Milla’s face turned a bright shade of red, and she quickly ducked behind Avaric’s shoulder, as though that would shield her from the teasing.

“Jealous, pretty boy?” Avaric raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Not everyone can pull off charm as effortlessly as I do.” Fiyero let out a bark of laughter, leaning forward to toss a twig into the fire.

“Please. If Milla had any sense, she’d be running in the opposite direction,” he said.

“You’re just jealous that I remain undefeated in matters of the heart,” Avaric said smoothly, adjusting the cuff of his jacket with an exaggerated flourish.

Glinda giggled softly, shaking her head as she leaned toward Elphaba.

“How does he manage to turn every conversation into something smug about himself?” she whispered, her voice low and playful. Elphaba smirked, her eyes glinting in the firelight as she tilted her head toward Glinda.

“A talent honed through years of rigorous practice,” she replied.

Glinda’s laughter bubbled up again, and she savored the comfortable ease of the moment. Elphaba’s profile caught her attention, and she felt an unexpected pang in her chest. Her knee bumped lightly against Elphaba’s as she shifted closer to her, the contact sending an electric hum through her. She tucked a curl behind her ear, letting her eyes linger for a moment on the line of Elphaba’s jaw, the slight curve of her lips as they curled into another smirk. The fire popped, scattering a brief shower of sparks in the air, and Glinda’s gaze darted back to the fire, warmth blooming in her chest.

Across the fire, Avaric stretched and tilted his head back with a theatrical sigh. With a casual flick of his wrist, he checked his watch.

“Alright, everyone,” he announced standing and brushing imaginary dirt from his jacket. “It’s almost time for the main event. Get moving if you want the best view, the fire will make it harder to see.”

The group stirred into action. Milla rose quickly, her hand brushing Avaric’s arm as she smiled at him. Fiyero motioned for Crope and Tibbett to join him as he wandered to the tree line. Pfannee and Shenshen, still whispering and giggling, drifted off in the opposite direction.

That left Glinda and Elphaba.

Glinda hesitated as she stood, dusting off her skirt and glancing toward Elphaba, who had grabbed one of the blankets Crope and Tibbett had brought. Elphaba offered it to her without a word, her fingers brushing against Glinda’s as she passed it over. The fire popped again, a sharp crackle that echoed in the quiet left behind by the others dispersing. Glinda’s gaze drifted to Elphaba, the glow of the fire softened her features, catching the sharp angle of her cheekbones and the stray wisps of hair that framed her face.

“We should find a spot,” Elphaba said, her voice steady, though she avoided meeting Glinda’s eyes.

“Yes,” Glinda agreed, the word catching in her throat, barely more than a whisper. She forced a smile that Elphaba didn’t seem to notice, her focus already ahead.

The air felt colder the moment they left the circle of warmth around the fire. The distant laughter of their friends faded, leaving only the quiet rustle of wind. Glinda’s fingers curled tighter around the blanket, her palms damp despite the chill. Every step felt slower than it should, every small movement suddenly magnified. The brush of her sleeve against her arm, the soft swish of her skirt, even the faint sound of Elphaba’s breathing seemed too loud. She glanced at Elphaba, her stride was steady, her shoulders slightly hunched against the cold. Glinda wondered if she noticed how close they were, the way their arms nearly touched. Her own skin felt electrified, hypersensitive to the possibility of contact. Elphaba stopped abruptly.

“Here,” she said, turning her head to glance Glinda. Her voice was quiet, but the closeness made it seem louder, almost intimate. Glinda nodded quickly, too nervous to trust her own voice.

As they worked together to spread the blanket, her fingers brushed against Elphaba. Once. Twice… each time it sent a shock through her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from gasping. The silence stretched as they knelt on the blanket. Glinda’s heart raced, the weight of unsaid words and unacknowledged feelings pressing against her chest. She tried to focus on anything else—the faint smell of the grass, the faint chill in the air—but it was impossible to ignore the nearness of Elphaba.

The soft hush of the night settled around them, the firelight now a distant glow behind them. Glinda stretched out on the blanket beside Elphaba, her heart fluttering faintly, but the open sky above them eased the tension knotting in her chest. She turned her head to glance at Elphaba, whose focus was trained upward. The slight curve of her lips and the flicker of light in her eyes made Glinda’s chest feel warm.

Suddenly Elphaba gasped, her whole body tensing.

“Look!” she said, pointing to the sky. “Did you see it?” Glinda’s gaze shot upward, but all she caught was the stretch of stars, endless and still.

“A shooting star!” Elphaba turned to her, excitement brightening her face in way Glinda wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. “It was so fast I barely caught it myself!” The sight of Elphaba so animated and full of wonder sent a rush of warmth through Glinda’s chest. It was almost unbearable—like her heart might burst. She gave a small laugh, hoping it sounded more casual than it felt.

“Maybe I’ll catch the next one,” she said softly.

As she shifted her head, the hard ground beneath her made her wince. She shifted, turning onto her side and resting her head lightly on Elphaba’s stomach, drawn in by the comfort of being so near her. Elphaba stiffened for a moment, her breath catching, but then she relaxed, her hands moving to Glinda’s hair. Long fingers tangled in her golden strands, gently combing through them, and Glinda closed her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh at the soothing touch.

After a moment she opened her eyes, her gaze returning to the sky, waiting to catch a falling star. Suddenly, a streak of light, brilliant and fleeting, darted across the sky. Glinda’s breath hitched, and her chest swelled in a mix of awe and exhilaration.

“There!” she exclaimed, turning her gaze to Elphaba, who was already looking at her with wide eyes. Elphaba’s lips parted into a grin, rare and unguarded, and the two of them giggled softly, their laughter blending into the stillness of the night. For a brief moment, nothing else existed—just the stars above and the warmth between them.

They fell silent again, gazing at the stars, Elphaba’s fingers continued their soothing rhythm in Glinda’s hair. It was quiet, peaceful, but something about it felt fragile, like something precious and fleeting. Glinda closed her eyes again, focusing on the rise and fall of Elphaba’s breath.

“This is what I used to dream about when I was little,” Elphaba said suddenly, her voice low, almost wistful. Glinda’s eyes fluttered open.

“What?”

“Moments like this. Stars falling across the sky, the world so quiet, like it’s just… ours.”

The sincerity in her voice made Glinda’s chest ache. She tilted her head slightly to look at Elphaba, the warmth in her eyes holding her in place. For a moment, Glinda thought she might actually say it—blurt out everything she was feeling, let the words tumble free and unchecked. But her courage wavered, and instead, she turned her gaze back to the stars, her heart thundering in her chest.

The meteors began falling more frequently, fleeting brushes of light against the sky. Each one felt like a whisper, there for a moment and gone the next. Glinda watched, her breath catching with each streak, her heart swelling with the beauty of it. The vastness of the stars, the quiet hum of the night reminded her of Elphaba. It was her strength, her quiet resilience, the way she shone so brightly, even when the world around her tried to dim her light. The thought made Glinda’s chest ache again, a deep, longing ache that she wasn’t sure she wanted to let go of.

“This is perfect,” she murmured, almost to herself, her voice barely audible over the wind. Elphaba hummed softly, her fingers still threading through Glinda’s hair.

“It is,” she said, her voice quiet but sure.

The dormitory was steeped in stillness, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but was heavy with things unsaid. Elphaba opened the door with unassuming grace, her hand brushing Glinda’s back as she gestured for her to enter first. It was a small gesture, almost too subtle to notice—like so many of their moments—but Glinda’s breath caught, her pulse quickening at the warmth of her touch, the ghost of it lingering even after Elphaba had pulled away.

She stepped inside, the thick air pressing against her chest, and she faltered. It felt suffocating, like the room was closing in on her, filled with a tension she couldn’t shake. Glinda lingered by her bed, her fingers brushing absentmindedly over the blanket’s edge, her gaze fixed on Elphaba. She didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she pretended not to. Elphaba was focused on her bed, pulling back the covers and untying her hair. The light caught on her profile, softening the sharp lines of her face and casting a golden glow over her features. Glinda’s chest tightened. How many nights had they shared this room? How many times had she watched Elphaba, drawn to her like a moth to a flame? Tonight, it was different. It was as if the stars they’d watched earlier had scattered their glow inside her, and now, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t ignore the wait of her feelings. The tightness in her throat squeezed her, trapping her breath with longing.

She couldn’t pretend anymore.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she gripped the blanket tighter, trying—and failing— to still herself. The tension in the air wrapped around her, suffocating, while her thoughts spiraled in every direction—fear, longing, need. It was like the rain before the storm, the heaviness pressing down on her. Elphaba turned slightly, her fingers brushing her braid.

“You should get some sleep,” she said, her voice soft, unhurried. “It’s late.”

Glinda’s breath caught at Elphaba’s words, the way they lingered between them. She wanted to say something, anything, something light and dismissive to ease the tension, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she took a step forward, her bare feet against the cold floor.

“Elphaba,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Elphaba looked at her then, brow furrowing slightly, her gaze curious.

“What?” she asked, her voice light, her eyebrow arching in the way it did when she was intrigued. Glinda’s throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, pulse pounding in her ears.

“It was cold tonight,” she said, the words stumbling out. But it wasn’t what she meant to say.

“Dreadfully so,” Elphaba replied, turning back to her bed, fluffing the pillows, and resolutely avoiding Glinda’s gaze.

“I was warm with you,” Glinda said softly, her words trembling as they escaped her. Elphaba froze mid-motion, her back stiffening. Glinda swallowed again, her voice shaking as she forced the words out. “I feel so good with you. I—”

Elphaba turned then, and their eyes locked. The air between them thickened. Elphaba’s gaze was dark, raw, unguarded. Glinda’s heart skipped a beat.

“I feel seen,” Glinda continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “In a way I never have been before. Like you know the quiet parts of me, the parts I hide from everyone, even myself. And everything is better with you.”

Elphaba stood frozen, her eyes piercing into Glinda’s. The silence stretched on, suffocating, as Glinda’s pulse hammered in her chest. Fear bloomed inside her, a sharp ache that she might have said too much, crossed a line.

“Elphie…” Glinda’s voice cracked as she spoke, fear and hope mingling together. “Tell me you don’t feel this.”

Elphaba’s eyes softened, her lips parted as if to speak. But no words came. Instead, she crossed the room, slowly and deliberately. Glinda’s heart stuttered with every step she took, her breath catching as Elphaba took her face between her hands.

Their eyes met. And held.

Glinda couldn’t breathe. The pounding of her heart filled the silence between them, so loud she was certain Elphaba could hear it—could feel it in the fragile space between them. The warmth of Elphaba’s hands sent a chill down her spine, chasing away any semblance of coherence until all that remained was the pull of her touch. Elphaba searched Glinda’s eyes, her thumb brushing over her cheek, then lower, skimming the curve of her lips. Her gaze darkened.

“My sweet,” she murmured, her voice devastatingly sweet. Glinda’s breath caught. Her gaze flickered to Elphaba’s mouth, tracing the gentle curve of her lips, and when their gazes locked again, she gave the smallest of nods—faint, almost imperceptible.

Elphaba leaned in.

Slowly. So slow that it felt like the moment stretched beyond time itself. Glinda didn’t dare move, afraid even a breath might shatter what was unfolding. Then Elphaba closed the last of the distance, and their lips met.

Soft at first, tentative, and unbearably gentle—like the brush of a feather against her skin. A quiet inhale, a slow press, a moment that lingered and deepened. Glinda melted into it, her fingers clutching Elphaba’s sleeves as the world tilted beneath her feet. For one impossible moment, nothing else existed.

Then Elphaba pulled back.

The sudden absence of her touch left Glinda feeling breathless. When she opened her eyes, the look on Elphaba’s face nearly unraveled her.

Hunger. Wonder. Longing—raw and unguarded.

Glinda didn’t think—couldn’t. She surged forward, her hands sliding up to cradle Elphaba’s face as she captured her lips with a fervor that sent a shudder through her bones. Elphaba gasped against her mouth, the sound low, wrecked, and it encouraged Glinda further. Her fingers tangled in Elphaba’s hair as she pulled her closer, desperate to close every last inch of space between them.

Glinda was falling, spinning out of control yet somehow never so steady. It was like unlocking a door she hadn’t known existed, only to discover that every missing piece of herself had been waiting on the other side. Her heart thundered in her chest, every beat echoing with emotions too big to contain—desperation and relief, fear and wonder.

Elphaba kissed her back with a quiet intensity, her lips soft yet unyielding. They demanded everything and gave just as much, like a tide pulling her in and washing over her in waves. Glinda surrendered to it, to her, and she was lost, utterly consumed by Elphaba.

Glinda’s nails dug into Elphaba’s back, her hands gliding down, gripping her waist and pulling her closer, closer. Elphaba whispered her name, and she shattered, giving in completely.

“Take this off,” Glinda rasped as they stumbled against her bed. Elphaba did as she was told, breaking apart from Glinda just long enough to lift her shirt and throw it to the floor. Glinda’s gaze fell on Elphaba’s body, tracing the curve of her breast, her mouth watering with desire.

Their lips were on each other again. Hungry, desperate. Elphaba’s palms were hot against Glinda’s waist, and she ripped her blouse off, needing the feel of skin against skin. Glinda’s hands roamed, trailing between breasts, brushing her thumb against a nipple and squeezing. Elphaba groaned from underneath her, pulling her down and kissing her neck. She gripped Glinda’s thighs, squeezing as she sucked the skin just under her ear. Glinda’s breath hitched, and she met Elphaba’s gaze, her eyes dark, needy.

“I want you,” Glinda breathed, and Elphaba wasted no time.

She grasped Glinda’s skirt, pulling it down with urgency. Glinda moaned as she welcomed Elphaba’s fingers, rolling her hips as they slid in and out—the dizzying flood of pleasure leaving her reeling. Elphaba was remaking her, leaving marks on her body, her soul, her very being.

The room was alive with the sound of shifting bodies, the rustle of sheets, and the breathless rhythm of skin meeting skin. Each movement was an echo, a pulse that reverberated through the space between them, never quite still. The air was thick with the heat of their closeness, a warmth that spread like lava, slow and consuming, pouring through them in steady waves. Their breath quick, hands seeking—there was no rush, no end, only the soft flow of their bodies finding each other again, and again. Glinda felt alive in a way she never had before, kissing Elphaba, touching her, nothing had ever felt so right. And nothing else existed but the pull between them, like a river rushing to meet the sea—destined, unyielding, and unstoppable.

Chapter Text

Elphaba had been awake for a while—she wasn’t sure how long, only that she had spent most of it lying still, unwilling to disturb the warmth pressed against her. The room was steeped in early morning quiet, the kind that made everything feel suspended in time. The faint scent of smoke from the night before mingled with the cool dawn air seeping through the window. Glinda lay curled against her, one arm draped over Elphaba’s stomach, her breath steady and warm against Elphba’s skin. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, catching in her hair, each strand woven into a delicate thread of spun gold. It shimmered like something out of a dream.

Elphaba let her fingers trace absently along Glinda’s back, feeling the soft rise and fall of each breath, the way she instinctively shifted closer to the touch. Entrancing, Elphaba thought. Everything about her—her warmth, the soft curve of her waist beneath Elphaba’s hand, the faint, sleep-ruffled waves in her hair—was utterly, maddeningly beautiful. Her gaze drifted lower, lingering on the bare expanse of Glinda’s shoulder where the sheet had slipped, the soft glow of her skin in the morning light. A dizzying ache spread through her, settling low in her stomach and smoldering like a slow-burning fire. How had she gone so long without pressing her lips to Glinda’s?

Elphaba swallowed, feeling absurdly overwhelmed by all of it. The closeness, the quiet intimacy of the morning, the sheer fact that Glinda was here, with her. That her hands had been just as eager as Elphaba’s to explore every inch of her body.

And Oz, she wanted her again already.

Her gaze flickered around the room, taking in the scattered remains of the night before—Glinda’s shirt draped over the desk chair, Elphaba’s hanging from the bedpost, other pieces of clothing discarded haphazardly across the floor. It should have felt strange, for their dynamic to have shifted so quickly, yet all Elphaba felt was certainty. Falling into each other was like a long-lost melody finding its harmony—pure, inevitable, and finally, complete.

Her gaze returned to Glinda, the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fluttered faintly as she began to stir. And suddenly, the morning felt fragile—something she wasn’t ready to break. A soft sigh slipped past Glinda’s lips as she shifted against Elphaba’s side. Her lashes fluttered, catching the early light, before she blinked up at her, hazy with sleep. For a moment, she just looked at Elphaba, the quiet between them stretching, unbroken. A slow, drowsy smile curled at her lips, and there—just there—a faint flush dusted her cheeks.

“You’re staring,” Glinda murmured, her voice still drowsy. Her fingers grazed lightly over Elphaba’s ribs before she stretched, arching slightly against the sheets.

Elphaba’s stomach twisted. Was that all? A simple, fleeting moment before the world continued on as if nothing happened? As if nothing had changed?

Glinda sat up, still wrapped in the glow of the morning, and reached for her robe at the foot of the bed. She pulled it over her shoulders with an easy sigh before stepping off the mattress entirely, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. Elphaba followed her movements, watching the way she crouched to retrieve a piece of clothing, turning it over in her hands before glancing around at the rest of what they’d left behind. Glinda let out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“Well,” she said lightly, “we certainly made a mess last night.” Elphaba swallowed, but the knot in her throat didn’t ease. The air around her was heavy, pressing down against her chest, and making it hard to breathe. She hadn’t moved since Glinda had gotten up, but now her fingers clenched the sheets, pulling them up around her chest as she sat up. A shield. As if it could keep her safe from the doubt swelling up inside her.

Glinda looked so at ease—smiling, utterly unbothered, as if it were a morning like any other. Maybe the night before hadn’t meant as much to her. Maybe it was nothing more than a release of tension, or, or—

“Elphie?”

Elphaba’s gaze flickered to Glinda’s, her eyebrows were raised, her eyes wide with concern. She tightened her grip on the sheets, unable to speak. Glinda quickly made her way back to the bed, sitting in front of Elphaba.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft. A lump formed in Elphaba’s throat, and her gaze flickered away from Glinda’s, settling on the wall across the room. She felt exposed, stripped bare by the possibility of revealing her insecurities. The words felt too fragile, too vulnerable. A soft hand cupped her cheek, and she closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. She swallowed, taking a deep breath before she opened her eyes again and found the courage to speak.

“Last night was—” She hesitated a moment, her voice trembling. “It meant something to me…” her gaze found Glinda’s again, her eyes gentle and warm. “And I’m worried that—” she exhaled sharply, looking away for a moment before forcing herself to continue. “That it didn’t mean as much to you.” Glinda wiped away a tear that Elphaba hadn’t even realized had fallen. She moved closer, tilting Elphaba’s face so their eyes met. Another tear slipped free. Elphaba blinked, her heart stuttering in anticipation.

“Elphie, I wanted this with you,” Glinda murmured, her voice soft, sincere. She smiled, bringing their foreheads together for a lingering moment before brushing a tender kiss against Elphaba’s lips. When she pulled back, her eyes shone with quiet certainty. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” A breathy, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her. “Maybe longer than I’ve ever let myself admit.” Elphaba exhaled, the weight she’d been carrying suddenly lifting. She shook her head, and a breathless, half-laugh escaped her.

“You have no idea, Glinda, I—” She gestured vaguely, at a loss. “I was convinced that I’d ruin everything. That this was just… some fleeting moment to you. That you’d wake up and think—”

Glinda launched herself forward with a delighted little squeak, knocking them both back on the bed. Laughter bubbled from her lips as she pressed kiss after kiss to Elphaba’s face—her cheeks, her nose, anywhere she could reach before finally capturing her lips in a deep, lingering kiss. When she pulled back, breathless and grinning, her eyes shone with a certainty that made Elphaba’s heart skip a beat.

“You think too much,” she murmured, nudging their noses together. “But for the record, no, you haven’t ruined anything.” Another kiss, softer this time. “And I like you. A lot.”

The sun dipped low, casting a warm hue over the cobbled streets as Elphaba and Glinda made their way to the Peach and Kidneys, their arms naturally intertwined. The town was alive with the sounds of the evening—chatter spilling out from shops and cafés, the clink of mugs, and the faint hum of distant music. As they walked, Elphaba found herself acutely aware of every step, every brush of Glinda’s arm against hers.

Their closeness, once so effortless, felt different—charged, almost as if the space between them was something more than just distance. Every brush of her arm against Elphaba’s felt more intimate than it had before, though no one else seemed to notice.

As they walked side by side, their friends were a few paces ahead, carrying on with the lively chatter that usually filled their outings. They joked and teased amongst themselves, Avaric’s already slurred voice carried over the rest, but Elphaba’s focus stayed fixed on Glinda. The curve of her smile, the way her laughter seemed to dance in the evening air. It was familiar, yes, but tonight it seemed different. Each small motion—Glinda pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, a quick glance of her eyes, the playful sway of her steps—felt like a quiet signal. Glinda leaned in slightly, her voice a soft murmur at Elphaba’s ear, a joke just for her.

“Do you think he even knows where we’re going?” She nodded her head toward Avaric, and Elphaba’s lips curved into a small smile.

“Avaric runs on pubs,” Elphaba replied with a smirk. “He probably follows the smell of beer and roasted meat like a bloodhound.” 

Glinda let out a laugh, her head tilting back in delight. The sound warmed Elphaba’s chest, and for a moment she let herself get lost in it—how it rang out clear and bright, how Glinda’s entire face lit up. Elphaba could easily spend a lifetime finding new ways to make her laugh like that. Before she could sink into the moment any deeper, Avaric let out a loud whoop and broke into a sprint toward the pub, with the boys hot on his heels.

“Oh, for Oz’s sake,” Glinda groaned, but her smile didn’t falter as she tightened her grip on Elphaba’s arm and quickened her pace.

As they entered the pub, the familiar bustle of conversation and laughter filled the air, but the tension between them hung. Glinda leaned close, her voice dropping to a low whisper against Elphaba’s ear.

“I have to admit,” Glinda murmured, her fingers brushing down Elphaba’s arm before sliding to her back, her touch slow and deliberate. “There’s something about this place tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look quite so… irresistible.”

Elphaba stiffened as Glinda’s hand slid further down her back, her skin prickling where Glinda’s fingers grazed her spine. Her breath caught, her pulse quickening at the unexpected closeness. Glinda’s voice lowered even more, a teasing edge to it, “You know—”

“Well don’t just stand there you two!” Pfannee called out from a nearby table. Glinda chuckled, the sound light but still carrying an undertone of something deeper. She gently pulled Elphaba into the chaos of their friends, but as they joined the group, the weight of Glinda’s words lingered in the air, tightening Elphaba’s chest, and making her heart race just a little faster. The electric pulse between them humming, stronger than before.

The noise of the pub swirled around Elphaba, but it all felt distant, muted, as if she was hearing it through water. The clinking of glasses, the laughter spilling from the table, the low hum of her friends talking—it all faded to the background as her focus narrowed to Glinda, seated beside her. Glinda’s smile was effortless, her hand gesturing animatedly as she talked to Avaric.

Elphaba watched the way Glinda’s eyes lit up as she laughed, the way her lips curled into a smile, revealing the small dimples in her cheeks. She stared at the way the light caught the strands of her hair, how it rippled when she moved. When Glinda turned to say something to her, their eyes met, and the world around them blurred. Elphaba held her gaze, and Glinda’s lips quirked upward in a soft, knowing smile. A smile meant just for her.

Before she could stop herself, Elphaba’s hand slid beneath the table, fingertips grazing the edge of Glinda’s hand—an invitation. Without hesitation, Glinda’s fingers intertwined with hers, warm and sure. Elphaba’s heart stumbled as she felt Glinda’s fingers wrap around hers, and the world fell away for a moment, leaving only the warmth of her touch.

Glinda leaned closer to Avaric as he recounted a story to the group, but her hand lingered against Elphaba’s. Glinda’s eyes flicked back toward her for a fleeting moment, her soft smile still lingering in a way that told her everything. In that look, Elphaba felt it—Glinda’s affection, her desire. It was there, in that small, quiet gesture—everything Elphaba had never known she wanted, but now felt like the only thing that mattered. The weight of that realization settled over her, heavy and delicate, like something fragile she might lose if she didn’t hold on tight enough.

Fiyero cut into Avaric’s story, poking fun at something he had said, and Glinda laughed—her head thrown back, bright and carefree. Just as quickly, she tilted her face into Elphaba’s neck, hiding her laughter with a soft gasp. Elphaba’s breath caught at the sudden closeness—Glinda’s warm breath against her skin, the soft press of her cheek just below Elphaba’s ear.

“Sorry,” Glinda said with a soft giggle as she pulled away, her cheeks flushed pink.

“It’s fine,” Elphaba murmured, her voice quiet. She was lost in the warmth of Glinda’s presence, in the feeling of their hands still resting under the table. Their eyes met again, and Elphaba swallowed, her heart thudding in her chest—unable to look away from the Glinda’s sparkling eyes.

She held Elphaba there with an intensity that made it hard to focus on anything but her. They didn’t speak, but the conversation continued around them as Elphaba’s world narrowed to Glinda’s gaze. Her mind raced, circling back to Glinda again and again. The fleeting glances, the touches, the way Glinda always seemed to know when she was looking. It was undeniable—it wasn’t just passing fancy, not just a moment of fleeting attraction—they were something real.

Elphaba smiled, shy, but genuine, and Glinda mirrored it. The air between them was charged with a warmth that felt more real than anything Elphaba had ever experienced. Then, Glinda’s thumb brushed over the back of Elphaba’s hand, a subtle, quiet touch—but enough to send a ripple through Elphaba’s chest.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the canal, its golden light flickering on the water as a soft breeze stirred the surface. The canal, reflecting the clear sky, seemed to glow from within. New leaves, a fresh, vibrant green, shimmered in the light breeze. Flowers bloomed along the walkway, adding splashes of yellow, pink, and white. The air, still carrying a hint of winter’s chill, held the sweet scent of damp earth and blooming life.

It was the middle of the week, and their final class of the day had long since ended, yet rather than at the library, here they were. Elphaba wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up here—walking arm in arm with Glinda, their steps slow and unhurried, as if this were any ordinary afternoon and not something Glinda had clearly orchestrated. Elphaba’s gaze drifted across Glinda’s face, taking in the softness of her features—the gentle curve of her lips, the delicate slope of her nose, the arch of her brow. The canal’s rippling surface reflected across Glinda’s neck, catching the sunlight and turning her skin to gold. Elphaba’s breath caught at the sight, her chest flooding with warmth.

There was something fragile in the way Glinda held her arm, as if the connection between them might snap at any moment, yet it was also undeniably real. It was the first bloom of something new, like the green buds of a garden beginning to stretch toward the sun, unsure of whether it would flourish or fade. The air between them seemed to hum with a quiet promise, as if the world around them was waiting to see how far it could take them.

“So,” Glinda said, letting out a breath of air. “The Spring Social is coming up, and obviously, I’ll have many suitors vying for my attention…” Elphaba slowed her pace, turning to look at her fully.

“Obviously,” she said dryly, her eyes narrowing slightly, in amusement. She was about to comment on the unusually purposeful nature of their detour when Glinda continued.

“Well, you know how it is,” she said, her fingers fidgeting from their spot on Elphaba’s arm, as though she were trying to keep her hands occupied. She glanced away, her gaze flicking over the canal, and cleared her throat. “Fashion, drama, glittering gowns, extravagant decorations—the usual nonsense, really.” Her words tumbled out a little too fast, as if she were trying to keep up with her thoughts. “I mean, the people who go out of their way to make this event a success are—well, it’s just a lot to live up to, don’t you think? Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, suitors!” Elphaba raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Right, suitors.”

Glinda shifted slightly, biting her lip. Her foot scraped lightly against the stone beneath them, a restless motion. She caught her breath, then looked sideways at Elphaba, not quite meeting her gaze.

“And, uh, despite the overwhelming demand for my attention—” she paused, her eyes meeting Elphaba’s. “I have generously decided to extend the invitation to you first.” Elphaba’s smirk was slow and deliberate. She let the silence hang in the air, watching as Glinda’s hand faltered, her fingers twitched.

“How magnanimous of you,” Elphaba finally responded. Glinda huffed, nudging her lightly with her shoulder, but there was a faint tremor in the motion, betraying her nerves. She cleared her throat again.

“Oh, hush. Just—do you want to go with me or not?”

Elphaba exhaled, her chest aching as she took in the way Glinda was watching her—hopeful, expectant, the slightest bit uncertain. She shifted her arm slightly beneath Glinda’s hand, tilting her head toward her.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I’d like that.” Glinda’s breath hitched, just barely, before her face broke into a smile—small at first, then radiant, as if she couldn’t quite help it.

Elphaba let herself look at her for a moment longer, warmth settling deep in her chest. Then, her eyes flicked around them—quick, instinctive—before she leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to Glinda’s cheek. Glinda stilled, her fingers tightening just slightly around Elphaba’s arm. By the time she pulled back, Elphaba could see the pink blooming high on Glinda’s cheeks. For a half a second, she looked almost dazed, but then she let out a breathless little laugh, her smile growing.

“Oh, Elphie, this will be perfect,” she sighed happily, turning toward Elphaba. “I think I’ll wear my hair up, don’t you? Something soft, but elegant—a few curls maybe? And a pin, of course—oh but which?”

As she spoke, Glinda’s hand drifted down Elphaba’s arm, fingertips skimming over her skin before slipping into her hand, their fingers brushing, then lacing together with quiet certainty. She gave a gentle squeeze, her voice airy with excitement as she continued rambling about hairpins and curls. Elphaba glanced down at their joined hands. Glinda had taken her hand plenty of times before—looped their arms together, leaned into her touch without a second thought—but this felt different. Now, there was something new blooming between them, something fragile but full of promise.

Without thinking, without hesitation, she squeezed back.

Elphaba walked beside Nessa, the familiar path to the library stretching before them. The sun was high, and the cool breeze felt good against her face. Nessa was glowing from Boq’s invitation to the dance, and it took most of her attention as she recounted the conversation in a rapid stream of words.

“Of course, I told him yes,” Nessa said. Then, with a teasing grin, she glanced up at Elphaba. “But I’m sure you and Glinda will be the most eye-catching pair there.”

Elphaba’s pace faltered for a moment, but she quickly masked her surprise with a blank expression. She’d been lost in her thoughts, distracted, but the mention of Glinda pulled her back to the present. She glanced sideways at Nessa, trying to read her face, but Nessa had already turned her attention to the path ahead.

“What?” Elphaba muttered, her voice a touch sharp as the words slipped out. Nessa didn’t immediately respond, though Elphaba noticed the slight arch of her eyebrow—subtle, but unmistakable. Nessa’s gaze shifted briefly toward her, lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“I just think it’s pretty obvious,” she said casually, her tone light. “You two seem… close. I’m sure everyone will be curious to see if you show up together.”

Elphaba tried to swallow the tension in her throat, but it was no use. Her mind was already spinning, her thoughts racing. Show up together. The thought stirred something deep inside her, something she wasn’t sure how to place. Was it just idle speculation? Or did Nessa know more than she was letting on?

Nessa rolled over a small stone in the path, continuing effortlessly as if she hadn’t noticed the shift in Elphaba’s demeanor.

“Anyway,” she continued, her voice lighter. “I’m just saying it’s bound to be interesting.” Elphaba forced a quiet smile.

“Guess we’ll see,” she said, her words slower, more deliberate.

Her mind was already elsewhere, spiraling to Morrible’s cold gaze and the possibility of her intervening in their lives. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down her spine. Morrible wouldn’t hesitate to make things difficult if she thought there was anything inappropriate about their connection. Elphaba’s mind flashed to the sharp, disapproving words she’d surely say: We can’t have students shacking up together, can we, Miss Thropp? The prospect of being forced to leave Glinda’s side—no longer able to share a room, no longer able to exist in the bubble they had created—made Elphaba’s heart lurch painfully in her chest.

Nessa, perceptive as ever, seemed to sense the sudden shift in Elphaba’s mood. There wasn’t a direct comment, but Elphaba could feel Nessa’s eyes on her more intently, perhaps aware that her words had had more of an effect than Elphaba let on.

“So, I was thinking…” Nessa began again, her voice quieter, measured, as if sensing Elphaba’s distraction. “Maybe we could all go together to the social? You and Glinda can—”

“Let’s just… drop it for now,” Elphaba interrupted softly, her voice barely a whisper against the soft rustle of the trees.

Nessa didn’t press, but Elphaba could still feel her gaze, sharp and knowing in its silence. For a moment, there was quiet between them, the weight of unasked questions hanging in the air. Elphaba’s heart pounded louder than the sound of their footsteps, her mind still reeling. There was too much at stake for her and Glinda to risk being found out, not when everything between them was so new and fragile.

As they neared the library, Nessa gave a small, knowing smile. Elphaba wasn’t sure if it was because she had figured something out or because she was caught up in her own thoughts about Boq to notice much else. Either way, Elphaba couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Nessa had realized more than she was letting on.

Her mind drifted back to Glinda, to the quiet moments and fleeting touches that had come to mean so much to her. She wondered how to bring it up to her—not because she was ashamed or afraid to be seen with her, but because the fear of losing it all, of losing her, pressed heavily on her chest. They would figure it out together, she told herself. She only hoped Glinda would understand.

Saturday night had arrived in full swing, and the air felt different, more charged, more electric. The dorm room felt warmer than usual, the late afternoon light spilling through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the space. The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, carried in with the soft breeze through the open window as it mingled with the subtle traces of Glinda’s perfume—sweet, delicate, and unmistakably her. The faint hum of the wind outside made the tension in the room more pronounced.

On the bed, Glinda’s dress lay draped across the soft sheets, its blush pink fabric catching the light in a way that made the tiny beads sewn into it shimmer like stars. Elphaba’s champagne-gold gown, simple but elegant with its subtle V-shaped neckline, rested next to it. The pink shimmered, almost ethereal, while the gold radiated a warm, grounded light. Together they complimented each other perfectly, creating a striking blend that felt balanced and somehow… complete.

Elphaba reached for her dress and slipped into it, the fabric smooth against her skin. She fumbled with the zipper, trying to pull it up. Halfway through, she felt a soft pressure at the small of her back, followed by the gentle touch of Glinda’s fingers.

“Oh,” Elphaba said, a little surprised as she glanced over her shoulder. Glinda, standing behind her, pulled the zipper slowly up with quiet concentration.

“I thought I’d save you the trouble,” Glinda whispered into her ear, her voice light and teasing. Her fingers brushed against her back, and a soft shiver trickled down Elphaba’s spine. Heat radiated deep in her gut, and she leaned into Glinda’s touch. Glinda didn’t say anything more as she finished zipping up the dress, her fingers lingering against Elphaba for a moment longer than necessary. Elphaba’s breath caught in her chest, the warmth of Glinda’s hands seeping through the fabric as she swallowed hard. She turned slowly, meeting Glinda’s gaze.

“Thank you,” Elphaba said, her voice coming out hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” Glinda said with a wink. “Now, I’m going to need you to sit,” she added, gesturing to her desk. Elphaba raised an eyebrow but did as she was told. Glinda bounced over, all energy and smiles. She practically plopped herself into Elphaba’s lap, straddling her in one fluid motion, and immediately began fiddling with a small makeup case.

“What are you doing?” Elphaba asked, eyeing the case in Glinda’s hand.

“The finishing touches,” Glinda said, her voice sing-song as she fussed over her palette.

Elphaba barely heard her.

Glinda had settled comfortably against her, her legs tucked on either side, her slip as thin as a web against Elphaba’s skin. Every movement—every slight shift—sent a spark skittering down Elphaba’s spine. She tried to focus on the way Glinda’s brush swept lightly over her palette, but her attention kept snagging on the way the fabric clung to the curve of her thighs, the dip of her waist, the warmth of her body pressed so close.

Glinda seemed completely unaware of the effect she was having. Or—Elphaba’s lips curled—she was choosing not to acknowledge it.

Her hands found their way to Glinda’s waist, fingers brushing feather-like over silk and skin. She traced slow, deliberate circles against her hips, savoring the way Glinda stilled just slightly at her touch. Then—just to see—she gave them a light squeeze. Glinda let out a breathy, startled sound somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. Elphaba inched forward, tilting her face to nuzzle against the soft skin of Glinda’s neck. She let her lips graze, barely there, before pressing a kiss to the quickening pulse beneath her jaw.

“Are you sure we need to go to the dance?” she murmured, her voice low and warm. Glinda sucked in a breath.

“Elphie—” Her voice hitched, her brush halting mid-air as if she had momentarily forgotten what she was doing. “We’re going. Besides, you already have your dress on.”

“It won’t take long to get it off,” Elphaba teased, grinning against her skin. She didn’t wait for an answer. She closed the space between them, pulling Glinda in for a kiss—slow, deep, deliberate. She kissed her the way a river carves through stone, soft, unhurried, but relentless all the same.

Glinda made a sound—half a sigh, half a groan—as her grip faltered, her body melting against her for one perfect moment before she tore herself away. Her hands pressed against Elphaba’s chest, a shaky breath escaping her lips.

“We need to get ready,” she said, her voice carrying a faint tremor, though the desire in her eyes hadn’t faded. Elphaba smirked, watching the way Glinda’s hands lingered against her dress, as if she was already second guessing her own resolve.

Glinda’s hand slid down Elphaba’s arm, her fingers lingering for a moment before she stood. She moved to her bed, slipping into her own dress before moving to her vanity to start her makeup. As she busied herself with getting ready, Elphaba watched, a lump forming in her throat. In the excitement of getting caught up with themselves and the dance, there was something they hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“So,” Elphaba began, her voice soft as she watched Glinda brush a delicate line of powder across her cheeks. “I think we should talk about…” her voice faltered, the words suddenly heavier now that she was trying to say them aloud. Glinda looked up from the mirror, her eyes wide and attentive, the soft glow of the room reflecting in them.

“Talk about what?”

Elphaba hesitated, her fingers curling slightly at her side. Her eyes flickered downward for a beat before finding Glinda’s reflection again.

“About… us. About maybe keeping whatever this is a secret for now.”

Glinda’s hands stilled mid-motion. The soft bristles of her brush hovered just above her cheek before she set it down with deliberate care. Her expression didn’t waver.

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “Absolutely not. I don’t care what anyone has to say.” Elphaba exhaled through her nose.

“No, it’s not that it’s—”

“What?” Glinda interrupted, already moving on as she dabbed at her face, her tone light but clipped, determined to dismiss the subject before it could settle. Elphaba clenched her jaw for a moment before forcing herself to relax.

“Morrible.”

That got Glinda’s attention. Her brow pinched slightly.

“Morrible?” she repeated, puzzled. She picked up her mascara, twisting the tube open with a quick flick of her wrist. “What does she have to do with anything?” Elphaba exhaled, shifting her weight.

“You know how she is,” she said. “I’m worried that if word gets around to her that she’ll—I don’t know—force us to switch rooms or something.” Glinda’s hand faltered, her mascara wand hovering just above her lashes. Their gazes met in the mirror, and Elphaba saw understanding flicker through her initial defiance.

“Oh,” Glinda murmured. “I supposed I hadn’t thought of that.” Elphaba let out a quiet breath, relieved that she didn’t have to spell it out further.

“I really, really, don’t want that to happen,” she admitted. Her voice was softer now, carrying something more vulnerable beneath it. “And I don’t think you do either.” Glinda sighed, leaning back slightly against her chair. She glanced at Elphaba in the reflection of the mirror.

“Yeah,” she relented. “I get it. I don’t want to hide, but… you’re right, I’m not willing to give this up.”

Something warm uncurled in Elphaba’s chest at that. She stepped closer, sliding her hands onto Glinda’s shoulder, her hands brushing idly over smooth skin.

“Maybe just until summer,” she suggested. “Then we can figure things out without worrying about anyone else.” Glinda pursed her lips, considering.

“Fine. Until summer.” she said with a decisive nod, her tone carrying reluctant acceptance. Elphaba let out a breath, relief settling over her like a blanket. And then, she leaned down, her lips near Glinda’s ear.

“It could be fun,” she murmured, her voice low, teasing. “Sneaking around... you trying to keep your hands off me.” Glinda let out a breathy giggle, swatting her away with a playful glare.

“You’re just as bad as I am!”

Elphaba grinned but straightened, watching as Glinda turned back to the mirror and fussed with her hair. The glow of the candlelight caught in the golden strands, making them shimmer as she ran her fingers through it.

“Now,” Glinda said, eyes flicking to Elphaba’s reflection with a knowing smile, “be a good girl and wait for me to finish getting ready.”

Elphaba huffed but stepped back, her smirk lingering as she leaned against the edge of the dresser, watching Glinda with fondness. Glinda, seemingly satisfied that Elphaba would behave, returned her focus to the mirror. With practiced ease, she reached for a small brush and swept it through her hair. As she worked, the soft glow of the light flickered against her skin. The warmth caught in her curls, the shimmer of her dress, and the curve of her bare shoulder where the fabric dipped.

Elphaba couldn’t stop staring.

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t watched Glinda get ready before, hadn’t seen her fuss over her hair or murmur disapprovingly at the way the dorm light hit her skin. But now, something felt different. Maybe it was the way Glinda’s lips were still slightly pink from kissing her. Maybe it was the way she moved, utterly at ease, like she already knew Elphaba’s eyes were on her and didn’t mind one bit.

Or maybe it was just that—for the first time—Elphaba was allowed to look. Really look.

Her stomach curled in on itself, and she pressed her hands against the edge of the dresser to steady herself. Glinda caught her staring in the mirror and smiled, eyes full of knowing amusement.

“Alright,” she declared, setting down the brush. “I’m finished.” She stood and turned to Elphaba then, eyes bright with expectation. Before she could say anything, Elphaba beat her to it.

“You look marvelous as usual, my sweet,” Elphaba said, voice quiet. Glinda blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise before her expression melted into something unbearably soft. A flush of color rose in her cheeks—not the carefully applied rouge, but something real, something warm.

“Oh,” she said, as if momentarily forgetting how words worked. Then she recovered, tilting her chin with a playful smirk. “Well, of course I do.”

Elphaba rolled her eyes, but it was half-hearted at best. Glinda stepped closer then, eyes flickering over Elphaba’s dress, taking in the way the gold fabric caught the light, the way it fit against her figure.

“Speaking of which,” she said, gesturing with a twirl of her fingers, “I want to see you properly. Give me a spin.” Elphaba hesitated.

“A spin?”

“Yes, a spin,” Glinda said impatiently, waving a hand. “Go on, humor me.”

With a dramatic sigh, Elphaba complied, turning slowly. The fabric shimmered as it shifted, cascading in soft folds as she moved. When she faced Glinda again, there was something different in the way she was looking at her. Something softer, more certain.

“You’re breathtaking,” Glinda murmured, and this time, there was no teasing, no exaggeration. Just quiet, unshakable truth. Elphaba scoffed, glancing away.

“You’re just saying that because you picked out the dress.”

“I’m not,” Glinda said, frowning and stepping closer. She reached out, smoothing a hand over the fabric at Elphaba’s waist, her touch lingering. “I mean it.”

The certainty in her voice made it impossible for Elphaba to argue. Her breath caught. Glinda was close now, her warmth curling in the air between them, her hand still resting at Elphaba’s waist. Elphaba felt unsteady, trapped by the impossible need to lean in. The weight of Glinda’s touch was light, but it anchored her, burned through the layers of fabric like it was nothing. Glinda’s fingers curled slightly at her waist, deliberate, teasing, her eyes searching Elphaba’s face as if memorizing her reaction.

And then—slowly, deliberately—Glinda tilted her chin up and pressed the faintest kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Elphaba stopped breathing.

It wasn’t a deep kiss, wasn’t even on her lips, but it knocked the air out of her all the same. She felt it everywhere, the warmth of Glinda’s breath still ghosting over her skin, the imprint of her lips lingering, refusing to fade. The moment stretched, thick and humming between them. Glinda lingered, just for a breath, as if waiting—just long enough that Elphaba almost moved, almost closed the last bit of space between them.

But then Glinda pulled away, entirely at ease, as if she hadn’t just unraveled Elphaba’s entire world. She turned to her vanity, entirely at ease, and reached for the final touch—a small, elegant hairpin inlaid with a green gemstone. She held it for a moment, running her thumb over the stone, before meeting Elphaba’s gaze in the mirror. There was something knowing in her eyes, something warm.

“I thought this would be perfect,” Glinda said lightly, but there was a quiet intent behind her words. Carefully, she fastened it into place, her fingers brushing through her curls.

Elphaba watched her, her heart thudding in her chest as something shifted—quiet but undeniable. Glinda would wear pink of course. She usually wore pink. But tonight, against all the silk and shimmer, she would wear Elphaba too.

Glinda caught her gaze in the mirror again. A beat passed—silent, stretched, brimming with something unsaid. The soft glow of the room played across her features, and for a fleeting moment, she looked at Elphaba like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

And, whatever it was between them, Elphaba wanted to keep it—wanted to hold onto it as tightly as she could, to sink into it and never come up for air.

Chapter Text

The Spring Social was in full bloom beneath a canopy of stars. Lights hung from tree branches, their soft glow casting dappled light over the gathering. Twinkling strings of light wrapped around trunks, illuminating the courtyard in a golden hue. Glass vases adorned the tables, each containing tiny lights that flickered like fireflies around a single delicate flower. Further back, a wooden dance floor had been constructed beside a raised stage, where a band played a lively, jazzy tune. The music wove through the crowd, playful and energetic, setting the night alight with rhythm.

Glinda led Elphaba through the throng, her pulse quickening with each curious glance cast their way. It wouldn’t be the first time people had turned to look at her, but tonight, their eyes were on Elphaba. And who could blame them? Glinda’s heart fluttered as she stole a glance at her. The champagne-gold gown flowed gracefully over Elphaba’s figure, catching the light and shimmering with every step. Under the soft glow of the lights, she looked almost ethereal. Her dress brought out the depths of her emerald skin, accentuating her features in a way that made Glinda’s chest ache.

She had never wanted to touch someone so badly in her life. To feel the curve of Elphaba’s waist under her fingers, to pull her close and let the world know that Elphaba was hers. Her gaze fell to Elphaba’s lips and her heart skipped. It was impossible to act normal when she looked like that. Glinda’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach for her hand and interlace their fingers, but she hesitated. Their conversation earlier echoed in her mind—they had to be careful here. Here, they were just friends. Glinda tore her gaze away, her chest aching with the effort. She tried to distract herself by scanning the crows but the knot of longing in her chest refused to untangle.

At a table near the dance floor, she spotted Pfannee, Shenshen, and Milla, the latter having seamlessly integrated into the group since she and Avaric became official. Shenshen noticed them first, a bright smile spreading across her face as she waved them over. Glinda nudged Elphaba.

“This way,” she said, her voice coming out a little softer than intended. Elphaba looked over at her, her eyes wide and nervous, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. Glinda’s heart fluttered again, and she fought the urge to brush a stray hair from Elphaba’s face.

Elphaba smiled at her, small and shy, and Glinda nearly melted on the spot. She wanted to kiss that smile, to feel it against her lips and keep it for herself. Instead, she swallowed the desire and forced her feet to move, guiding them toward their friends.

“Glinda!” Shenshen exclaimed as they approached. “You look ravishing as always!” Milla let out a dramatic gasp, her eyes widening as she turned to Elphaba.

“Oh, wow! Miss Elphaba, you look marvelous!” Before Elphaba could react, Milla stepped forward and gave her a quick hug.

“You are positively swankified!” Shenshen added with a playful grin.

Glinda’s gaze drifted to Elphaba, whose posture was painfully rigid, shoulders drawn up tight as if bracing for impact. She had crossed one arm over her waist, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. Glinda’s chest tightened—Elphaba looked so uncomfortable, so out of place. She was trying so hard, and Glinda couldn’t stand to see her that way.

Without thinking, Glinda’s hand lifted, her fingers reaching out instinctively, craving the contact, the chance to soothe her. She could almost feel the warmth of Elphaba’s arm beneath her touch, the way her shoulders might soften, the way she might breathe a little easier. Just before her hand made contact, Glinda froze, her breath catching in her throat. She curled her fingers into a fist and quickly let her arm fall back to her side.

Her eyes flickered to Pfannee, who stood a step back from the others, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched and a familiar smirk playing on her lips, the one that always preceded a cutting remark. Glinda’s jaw tightened, and she tilted her head, narrowing her eyes in silent warning. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Pfannee’s expression shifted, her smirk faltering and her lips pressing together before she sighed, glancing at Elphaba.

“You look nice,” she said, her voice measured, almost begrudgingly. “Really.”

 Glinda’s lips curled in satisfaction, and she allowed herself to shift a little closer to Elphaba, just enough for their shoulders to almost touch. A thrill ran down her spine from the briefest contact, but she quickly pulled back.

“Ladies!” Fiyero’s voice cut through the noise, playful and warm as he sauntered up, draping an arm around both Pfannee’s and Shenshen’s shoulders. They giggled, leaning into him, their dresses rustling as they swayed closer. Avaric wasn’t far behind, slipping in smoothly beside Milla and wrapping an arm around her waist. She beamed, resting her head on his shoulder.

Glinda’s fingers twitched at her side, her chest tightening as she glanced at Elphaba, who stood stiff and alone, shoulders drawn up and arms crossed. The soft glow of the lanterns danced across her face, highlighting the tension in her clenched jaw. Glinda’s heart ached, a hollow pain settling in her stomach. She could feel the distance between them, an invisible chasm she desperately wanted to cross.

“Elphaba,” Fiyero drawled, catching Glinda’s attention. A lazy grin spread across his face, “I hardly recognized you. The color suits you.” His eyes flicked to Glinda, and he gave her a nod. “You’re a vision as always.”

“I quite agree,” Glinda said, her lips curling into a practiced smile. “But really, it’s just my natural radiance.” She forced herself to sound light and carefree, even as her fingers itched to reach out and touch Elphaba, to close the distance between them.

They fell into conversation over Crope and Tibbett’s absence from the social, and Glinda caught Elphaba’s eye. Her lips curled into a small smile, one meant just for Glinda. Glinda winked in return, and for the briefest moment, Elphaba’s shoulders relaxed, a near-silent laugh slipping past her lips. Glinda’s heart surged, the urge to touch her growing stronger than it had all evening.

“So anyway,” Avaric said, pulling Glinda’s attention back to the group. “Those two idiots tried to pull some elaborate prank on Professor Lenx—”

“Something about rearranging his entire office,” Fiyero cut in.

“Only, they got caught red handed by Morrible herself!” Avaric said, laughing and shaking his head. “She marched them straight to her office, collars in hand.” Elphaba let out a bark of laughter, her shoulders loosening.

“Serves them right,” she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Glinda’s heart fluttered, her chest aching as she watched the tension melt from Elphaba’s face.

“The real question,” Avaric leaned in closer to the group. “Is what in Oz was Morrible doing going to Lenx’s office so late at night?”

“Paying a… personal visit,” Fiyero wiggled his eyebrows and Shenshen swatted his shoulder.

“You know, I have noticed he’s the only professor that doesn’t seem the slightest bit afraid of her,” Elphaba mused, clicking her tongue. Glinda let out a mock gasp.

“The scandal!” she exclaimed, clutching her chest. Elphaba laughed, the sound soft and genuine, and Glinda’s heart swelled. Then, Fiyero cocked his head, his brow furrowing as his gaze flicked between Glinda and Elphaba.

“What’s wrong with you two?” he asked and Elphaba snapped upright, her eyes wide.

“What?”

“This is the furthest apart I’ve ever seen you,” he shrugged, his voice casual. “Are you sick or something?” Pfannee took a dramatic step back, her noise wrinkling as she looked between them.

“If you’re contagious, I don’t want to catch anything.”

Fiyero’s teasing observation hung in the air, his eyes flicking between Glinda and Elphaba. Glinda stood a deliberate distance from Elphaba, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. It felt wrong—unnatural, even. They were usually closer, shoulders bumping or arms linked as they laughed. She could feel the curious glances from the others, as if they were also aware of the strange gap between them. She swallowed, glancing at Elphaba, who stood rigid, her arms straight down at her sides, fingers clenched in fists. They were too stiff, far too different from how they normally were.

Glinda’s fingers twitched, and without fully thinking about it, she took a step closer.

“Oh, Elphie just doesn’t want me stealing away any potential suitors,” her voice was light and teasing, perfectly calculated. She placed her hand on Elphaba’s back, feeling the tension melt beneath her touch. “But really, she has nothing to worry about.”

Elphaba’s eyes widened, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned back, just enough that Glinda could feel the weight of her against her palm. It was small, but everything.

“Oh, please,” Elphaba said, rolling her eyes, her shoulders relaxing. “As if anyone would be foolish enough to pursue me.” There was a playful bite to her words, a spark that had been missing since they’d arrived. Glinda’s heart fluttered.

“Don’t be so modest,” Glinda teased, her fingers curling just slightly against Elphaba’s back before letting her hand fall away. “I’m sure there’s someone with enough braverism out there.” She winked and shot her a knowing look. Fiyero laughed, his suspicions easily soothed by Glinda’s charm.

“Well, good luck with that. I’m sure there’s someone out there who can appreciate your sharp tongue.” He winked, nudging Shenshen playfully.

“Oh, I’m sure there is,” Glinda murmured under her breath, her eyes never leaving Elphaba’s. For a fleeting moment, Elphaba’s lips twitched, her gaze lingering just a second longer than usual.

The conversation flowed around them, but for a moment, everything felt quieter. The two of them stood in their own, small bubble. Glinda took a slow, steadying breath, glancing at Elphaba out of the corner of her eye. Without a word, she reached out, threading her arm through Elphaba’s. Elphaba’s body stiffened, but Glinda simply gave her a soft knowing smile, leaning in close enough that her breath brushed Elphaba’s ear.

“You’re doing great, darling,” she whispered, her voice light, just above a breath. “Just breathe.”

The tension between them melted slowly, the space between them shrinking with the simple gesture. Elphaba’s shoulders relaxed, and there was a subtle softness to her expression, something more than gratitude. Glinda’s heart skipped a beat as she held Elphaba’s gaze, not wanting to break the moment and letting the easy warmth of their closeness settle in—alive with a quiet kind of intensity, like a storm waiting to break.

Glinda’s smile lingered as the moment stretched, but the spell was broken when a voice called Elphaba’s name. She looked over to see Nessa waving at her, her face lit with excitement. Elphaba hesitated, her arm still linked with Glinda’s, as if she were reluctant to pull away. Glinda loosened her hold, letting her fingers trail just a moment longer than necessary. Elphaba gave her a nod before stepping away, her shoulders a little straighter than before.

Glinda watched her go, feeling the absence of her touch like a chill. She lingered a moment longer, her gaze trailing after Elphaba before she turned back to Pfannee and Shenshen, who were chatting about someone’s dress, a scandalously low neckline, apparently. Glinda slipped back into their circle, smiling and nodding at the right moments, but her mind wandered. She could feel the ghost of Elphaba’s arm linked with hers, their closeness lingering like static in the air. Her eyes flickered over to where Elphaba now stood with Nessa, leaning down to listen to her sister, her posture noticeably more relaxed.

Glinda looked away, focusing intently on the conversation at hand. She didn’t want to draw attention to her staring, didn’t want anyone asking questions she couldn’t answer. Yet, her attention drifted, almost against her will, her eyes finding Elphaba again and again, tracing the sharp lines of her profile, the way her expression softened when she listened to Nessa speak. Shenshen breathed a sharp gasp, elbowing Glinda and grabbing her attention.

“Don’t look now, but Cavill Tennyson is staring at you,” she teased, her voice sing-song. “If you’re not careful, you’ll be swept off your feet before the night’s over.” Glinda laughed, a practiced sound, light and airy.

“Oh, please. I’d like to see him try,” she deflected. The girls dissolved into giggles, and Glinda’s gaze wandered again. She caught sight of Boq approaching Nessa, his face flush as he spoke. Glinda watched as Nessa’s eyes widened in surprise, a shy smile curling her lips. There was a moment of hesitation before she nodded, her expression brightening. Boq moved behind her and guided her chair toward the dance floor. Nessa’s face lit with excitement, her eyes sparkling as she looked back to Elphaba, who offered her a small, encouraging smile.

Glinda’s heart softened at the sight, her own smile blooming without permission. Elphaba’s expression was unguarded, her features softened by the gentle curve of her smile. The golden light caught in her dark hair, and Glinda traced the sharp lines of her cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brow. She looked beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

A familiar ache curled in Glinda’s chest, warmth spreading beneath her collar as she looked away, pretending to be absorbed in Pfannee and Shenshen’s conversation. Their words were distant, hollow, drowned out by the steady drum of her heart. She stole another glance, unable to help herself. Elphaba’s eyes followed Nessa and Boq as they moved toward the dance floor, her posture relaxed, one hand resting lightly at her side. The other lifted to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the movement unconsciously graceful.

 Glinda’s breath caught, her pulse quickening. She looked away again, heat prickling at the back of her neck. But her eyes found Elphaba once more, drawn to the easy elegance in the way she stood, the way her dress fell in sharp lines, perfectly tailored to her figure. Glinda’s fingers twitched, her feet shifting forward before she could think better of it. There was no hesitation, no stopping the quiet urgency that pulled her closer.

Elphaba looked up as Glinda approached, their eyes meeting across the small distance. For a moment, everything else fell away—the music, the laughter, the vibrant hum of conversation. It was just the two of them, held together by the thread of Elphaba’s gaze. Her eyes softened, the hard lines of her face easing, her eyes warm and impossible tender. Glinda’s heart lurched, her breath catching. She willed herself to move casually, to keep her composure as she slid up beside Elphaba, her should just barely brushing Elphaba’s arm. They stood side by side, facing the crowd, their postures relaxed, perfectly ordinary, but Glinda’s pulse raced, each beat echoing in her chest.

A jazzy tune played from the stage, the lively rhythm rippling through the spring air, light and carefree. Couples laughed as they spun across the makeshift dance floor, their movements loose and playful, skirts swirling and shoes tapping against the wooden planks. Glinda tried to focus on the dancers, to follow the bright patterns of their movements, but her attention kept drifting. She was drawn to the warmth radiating from Elphaba’s presence, the faint scent of pine and fresh rain mingling with the air.

Fingers brushed hers, light as a whisper. Glinda’s breath hitched, her heart thudding. She looked up, only to find Elphaba already watching her, her gaze steady and unflinching, a question lingering in the quiet space between them.

“You’re beautiful.” The words were soft, barely above a murmur, but they crashed through Glinda like a wave, stealing the air from her lungs. Elphaba’s eyes held hers, open and vulnerable, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting over her lips. Glinda’s chest tightened, heat flooding her face, and her fingers tingled where Elphaba’s touch lingered.

She wanted to kiss her. Desperately. Wildly. She wanted to close the distance between them, feel Elphaba’s lips against hers, taste the words still hanging in the air.

But the courtyard was full of watchful eyes. Glinda forced herself to breathe, to steady her pulse as she looked back toward the dancers, her heart still pounding a frantic, dizzy rhythm.

The music shifted, the tempo tightening, a playful rhythm filling the air as a new tune began. The crowd around them seemed to relax further, the buzz of conversation growing louder as couples paired off to dance. Glinda glanced at Elphaba from the corner of her eye, her heart still fluttering in her chest, caught somewhere between the warmth of their shared moment and the unspoken tension. For a moment, she considered breaking the silence, maybe suggesting they find a quieter spot or asking if she could steal Elphaba away. But before she could speak, Elphaba shifted slightly, her eyes never leaving Glinda’s.

“Do you want to dance?” Elphaba’s voice was low, her question gentle, as if she was testing the waters, unsure of how it might be received. Glinda blinked, her heart skipping a beat. Without a word, she stepped in front of Elphaba, their gazes locking. She paused for a moment, then held her hand out, fingers curling slightly.

“Well?” she asked, her voice light, teasing. A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

The world around them seemed to quiet, her heart pounding in her chest, eyes sparkling. Elphaba blinked, her gaze flicking down to Glinda’s hand before meeting her eyes again. Slowly, her hand reached for Glinda. As their fingers brushed, a jolt of warmth flooded through Glinda’s veins.

They stepped onto the dance floor, the lively jazz swirling around them, its infectious tempo filling the air with electricity. The rhythm pulled them closer, and they moved as one within the bustling crowd. Glinda threw a wink over her shoulder as she twirled, catching Elphaba’s eyes. She laughed softly, her face lighting up in a way Glinda had rarely seen, and her heart skipped at the sight of her. Elphaba was good, better than Glinda expected. She didn’t glide like a practiced dancer, but her movements were sharp and deliberate, her footwork precise as she kept pace. Glinda’s chest warmed with admiration, and she couldn’t resist teasing her.

“Have you been practicing without me?” She spun again, her curls bouncing as she shot a playful smile over her shoulder. Elphaba’s lips quirked in a subtle half-smile, her brow furrowing slightly as she adjusted her step.

“Maybe,” she muttered, a hint of laughter in her voice. Glinda giggled, her heart fluttering as Elphaba twirled her unexpectedly, the room spinning in a blur of color. When she landed back in Elphaba’s arms, they were chest to chest, faces close enough that Glinda could see the faint freckles dusting Elphaba’s nose. She laughed breathlessly, her cheeks flushing as she caught Elphaba’s eyes.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” she said.

“Just trying to keep you on your toes,” Elphaba said, her voice low and teasing.

They danced with reckless abandon, their laughter mingling with the vibrant notes of the music. Glinda felt weightless, the world narrowing to just them, the music, and the warmth of Elphaba’s hands guiding her. Elphaba’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and alive, and Glinda marveled at the sight. She was stunning—carefree and unguarded, her smile wide and genuine. Glinda’s chest tightened, her heart stuttering as she realized just how much she loved seeing Elphaba so happy. She wanted to capture the moment, to hold it close and never let it go, to make Elphaba laugh like that forever.

Elphaba spun her again, and Glinda threw her head back, laughing as her curls danced around her shoulders. When she landed back in Elphaba’s arms, they were pressed close again, the world spinning around them in a blur of color and light. Glinda’s chest ached with joy, her heart ready to burst.

“Keep this up, and I might never let you off this dance floor,” Glinda teased, her fingers tightening around Elphaba’s as she guided them into another step. Elphaba’s grin softened, her eyes gleaming.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Her voice was warm, tender, and it wrapped around Glinda like a melody all on its own.

The music swelled, vibrant and alive, echoing the wild rhythm of Glinda’s heartbeat. For a moment, nothing else existed, just the two of them spinning under the glittering lights, the world melting away until all that remained was Elphaba. Her face was radiant, eyes sparkling, laughter dancing on her lips. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, and Glinda’s breath caught in her throat. If she could freeze time, she would live in this moment forever, suspended between heartbeats, lost in the light that shone from Elphaba’s smile. If she could just capture this dizzying, wonderful rush, she would hold it close, tuck it away somewhere safe, and never let it go.

Glinda’s gaze lingered on Elphaba, her heart whispering a quiet, undeniable truth. She wanted to remember this night always—Elphaba’s laughter, her joy, the way lights twinkled in her eyes. She wanted to carry it with her, to cherish it, to hold it close like a secret she’d never let slip away. The music soared around them, and Glinda was lost, tangled in Elphaba’s gaze, drawn in by the warmth of her touch. As Elphaba spun her one last time, pulling her close with a soft, breathless laugh, Glinda knew she never wanted to be found.

The music shifted, the lively jazz giving way to a softer, more romantic tune. The rhythm gentled, easing into a slower tempo, and Glinda felt herself being pulled closer, Elphaba’s hand still in hers, their bodies swaying together. The world around them dimmed, the vibrant chatter and bustling crowd fading away as the lights above them danced softly, casting a golden glow over Elphaba’s face. Her cheeks flushed, eyes gleaming with a warmth that sent Glinda’s heart spiraling. They were so close that Glinda could feel the soft brush of Elphaba’s breath, steady and warm mingling with her own.

Elphaba’s hand slipped to the small of Glinda’s back, firm and grounding, and a shiver raced up Glinda’s spine. She clung to Elphaba, trying to steady herself against the dizzying rush of heat spreading through her. Her arms were around Elphaba’s shoulders, fingers grazing the hair at the nape of her neck, and she felt Elphaba tense just slightly before relaxing into the touch. They swayed together, movements gentle and unhurried, the music a soft murmur around them. Glinda’s gaze wandered over Elphaba’s face, tracing the delicate arch of her brow, the curve of her cheek, the way her eyes softened under the golden light. She was so close, close enough to kiss.

The thought was thrillifying, and Glinda’s heart fluttered wildly, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her eyes flickered downward, just for an instant, catching on Elphaba’s lips—soft, inviting, so dangerously close. Her breath hitched, the space between them charged, pressing against her chest, heavy and hot. Elphaba’s eyes darkened, her gaze flicking down, her lips parting as her breath quickened. Glinda felt the shift, the air crackling between them, the heat rolling off Elphaba in waves. Her hand tightened on the back of Elphaba’s neck, and Elphaba’s eyes fluttered, her jaw going slack.

Glinda could feel the warmth of Elphaba’s breath against her, feel the faint tremor in her shoulders. Elphaba’s hand tightened at the small of Glinda’s back, pulling her closer, their bodies inches apart, and Glinda’s knees went weak. Her heart was pounding, her breath shallow, and her gaze locked on Elphaba’s mouth, on the soft curve of her lips, the way they parted just slightly—inviting, tempting. All she had to do was move just a little closer, just a little more…

“Miss Glinda?”

The voice cut through the music, shattering the delicate moment. Glinda’s shoulders tensed, irritation flickering as she turned to find Cavill Tennyson standing before them, his hand outstretched, his face bright with expectation.

“May I have this dance?”

Glinda’s stomach twisted, annoyance simmering beneath her polite smile. Of all the times… She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and shot a glance at Elphaba, whose hand had already slipped from her waist. Her expression was neutral, eyes averted. The absence was sharp, and the warmth faded too quickly. She wanted to refuse, to send Cavill on his way and pull Elphaba back to her. But the weight of expectation hung heavy, and the room’s gaze pressed down on her. There was no polite way out of it.

“Of course.” Her voice was light, pleasant, and practiced.

As she placed her hand in Cavill’s, she glanced at Elphaba once more. Their eyes met, and a flash of understanding passed between them before Elphaba turned away, vanishing into the crowd. Glinda swallowed back the irritation, forcing herself to focus on the dance ahead, though her thoughts lingered on the moment with Elphaba that had slipped away.

The dance was a blur of practiced steps and polite conversation, Cavill’s chatter fading to background noise as Glinda’s thoughts drifted elsewhere. She kept her smile fixed, nodding at the appropriate moments, but her gaze wandered over his shoulder, searching the crowd for a familiar figure she couldn’t quite catch sight of.

As the music swelled to a close, Glinda stepped back, curtsying with practiced grace. She turned to leave, eager to slip away and find Elphaba, but Cavill followed, his voice chasing after her.

“Miss Glinda, I must tell you about—”

She stifled a sigh, keeping her smile bright as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Oh? Do go on.” Inside, she was willing him to take the hint and leave her be. But he lingered, his enthusiasm unwavering. Glinda’s patience thinned, even as she maintained the poised façade expected of her.

Cavill’s voice droned on, a steady stream of words that Glinda could barely follow. Something about his father’s business ventures or his recent trip to the Emerald City—she wasn’t sure, nor did she care. She nodded at the appropriate moments, her smile perfectly poised, but her attention was elsewhere, her gaze drifting past his shoulder.

The crowds swirled around in vibrant colors and laughter, but she found what she was looking for easily enough. Elphaba stood by the refreshment table, arms crossed, shoulders stiff. Milla was beside her, talking animatedly, her face alight with enthusiasm. Elphaba’s expression was carefully neutral, but her jaw was tight, her fingers curled just a little too tightly against her dress.

A thrill shot through Glinda. Elphaba was jealous.

Heat bloomed in her chest, satisfaction curling at the edges of her smile. She let her gaze linger, watching Elphaba’s shoulders tense, the flicker of annoyance that crossed her face before she schooled her features back into impassivity. Glinda’s pulse quickened and she waited until Elphaba’s eyes flicked toward her again, catching her gaze and holding it, letting the tension stretch between them. Then, with practiced grace, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. Golden curls tumbled down her back, catching the light as they danced in the air—her signature move: flirtatious, effortless, and devastating.

From across the room, Elphaba’s eyes darkened, her lips pressing into a firm line. Her posture went rigid, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. Milla continued talking, oblivious, but Elphaba’s attention was fixed and unyielding on Glinda. A rush of triumph sparked beneath Glinda’s skin. She turned back to Cavill, who was still talking, completely unaware. Her smile stayed sweet, her expression composed, even as her heart raced. She let herself steal another glance in Elphaba’s direction, satisfaction humming through her.

But then Elphaba laughed, throwing her head back with ease, her eyes fixed on Glinda. A smug smirk curled on Elphaba’s lips, one that seemed meant only for her. It was intoxicating, stirring something hot and burning deep within Glinda. She could feel the pull of Elphaba’s gaze from across the room.

Milla, who had been speaking animatedly, suddenly stopped, placing her hand on Elphaba’s arm. It lingered, a little too familiar, too casual. Glinda’s eyes darted to it, her breath catching in her throat. It was a small thing, an innocent gesture, Glinda knew that. But still, her chest tightened, her heartbeat suddenly too loud in her ears. Her lips pressed together as her gaze sharpened.

“Excuse me,” she cut off Cavill mid-sentence, her words smooth but direct. Her heels clicked quickly on the floor as she moved through the crowd, the space between her and Elphaba shrinking with every step.

When Glinda reached them, she didn’t hesitate. Her fingers closed around Elphaba’s wrist, the touch tight, almost desperate, and she pulled her away, no words, no explanation. Elphaba’s eyes locked on hers as she was led away, the same smirk still lingering, but now, it felt… different.

Glinda didn’t look back as she tugged Elphaba through the crowd, the heat between them building, the world around them fading to background noise. There was only the pull, the anticipation, the feeling that everything was about to shift.

The buzz of the party faded the further they moved into the garden. Glinda’s grip on Elphaba’s hand tightened, her fingers curling slightly as if anchoring herself to the moment, to the woman beside her. The night air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, damp earth, and the distant hint of rain. Her pulse quickened, her eyes darting across the garden, taking in the dense hedges and the darkened pathways that twisted away from the party. Every inch of her was focused on one thing: getting somewhere no one could see them. The thought sent a thrill through her chest, her breath quickening.

Then, she saw it, a path barely visible through the gap in the foliage, leading toward the library. The way the ivy twisted around the stone walls made it seem like a hidden place, untouched by the social. She didn’t wait. Without a word, she pulled Elphaba forward, her hand firm in Elphaba’s, her pulse thumping beneath her skin.

“Come on,” Glinda breathed, her voice hushed but the urgency behind it unmistakable. Her gaze flickered over Elphaba’s face—eyes dark, lips parted just slightly. Elphaba didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to. She just followed, her steps steady and sure, but there was something in the way she held Glinda’s hand that made her heart race even faster. Something almost possessive in the grip, in the way their fingers curled together.

As they passed by the hedge, the air felt heavier, the space between them smaller. The sounds of the party faded into almost nothing but their footsteps, the rush of blood in Glinda’s ears, and the beating of her heart. They rounded the corner to a small alcove, where the ivy-covered walls loomed above them, shrouded in darkness and silence, as though it were waiting just for them.

Glinda stopped, her breath catching as she turned to Elphaba. Her mind swam, suddenly consumed by the proximity, the heat of Elphaba’s skin so close to hers, and way their hands fit so naturally together. The air was thick with anticipation. Their eyes met, the flicker of something burning between them. The world beyond the hedges didn’t matter anymore, not the party, not the expectations.

It was just the two of them now.

Glinda’s hand slipped from Elphaba’s, her pulse racing as she stepped closer, the heat between them growing with every inch of space that closed between them. Glinda’s heart hammered in her throat as she pressed Elphaba back against the cool stone wall of the library. The world seemed to disappear, leaving nothing but the two of them, close enough that every breath seemed to belong to the other. Her heart raced, and her skin burned wherever it brushed against Elphaba’s.

They stood there, eyes locked, neither moving nor speaking. For a long moment, neither of them could look away. Glinda’s chest rose and fell with every breath, her body flush against Elphaba’s, every inch of her nerves alive and trembling. The space between them was impossibly small, and the heat between them unbearable. Her gaze flickered to Elphaba’s lips—soft, tempting, so close—and then back up to her eyes, dark and unreadable.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no response, no need for one. The question hung in the air, an electric charge between them, crackling and pulling them closer.

Glinda surged forward, her lips capturing Elphaba’s in a kiss that was pure hunger. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, like she couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough. She kissed Elphaba as if it were the last thing she would ever do, drinking her in, savoring every moment, every detail. There was no room for anything else, only them, only this. She wanted to take it all in, feel every second, and narrow her entire world down to this moment.  Every part of her body hummed with need, responding with everything she had, not caring about anything else.

Glinda’s fingers tangled in Elphaba’s hair, pulling her closer. Elphaba gasped against her mouth, and Glinda took the opportunity to nip at her bottom lip, just hard enough to draw a shiver from Elphaba. Her lips parted in response, a breathless sound escaping her as Glinda seized the moment, her tongue sliding in, deepening the kiss with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

Elphaba’s hand found Glinda’s waist, gripping hard and pulling her flush against herself. They were a tangle of limbs and heated breaths, bodies pressed so tightly together that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Glinda’s back arched as Elphaba’s fingers dug into her hips, kissing her fiercely, her teeth grazing her lips. Her heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing the frantic, hungry rhythm of their mouths—messy, raw, and utterly intoxicating.

She was drowning in Elphaba, consumed by her scent, her taste, and the feeling of her body against hers. It was dizzying and consuming, the world spinning around them. She was falling, tumbling into Elphaba, desperate to stay forever.

Something cold brushed her cheek.

She ignored it, too lost in the warmth of Elphaba’s lips and the way they moved against hers with equal hunger, equal need. Then, another cold drop, this time on her neck, sliding down to her collarbone, sending a shiver through her. A third drop landed on her cheekbone, and Glinda’s eyes fluttered open. She pulled back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her heart was still pounding, her lips tingling, but there was something else now too.

Rain.

It was starting to rain. Soft, gentle droplets, falling slowly at first, dappling at her skin and sinking into the fabric of her dress. Glinda looked up, her gaze following the raindrops as they descended from the sky. She felt the coolness against her flushed skin, a sharp contrast to the heat still lingering between them. Elphaba’s hands slid from Glinda’s waist as she, too, looked up, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“Looks like we’re in for a downpour,” she said, and Glinda laughed, a light breathless sound that carried on the breeze. She didn’t care. Let it rain. Let it pour. She’d stand there forever if it meant she could stay in this moment, with Elphaba’s body pressed against hers, their faces close.

But then, Elphaba’s gaze softened, and before Glinda could say anything, she reached up, her fingers brushing through the curls that clung to Glinda’s damp skin. Her hand moved with delicate precision as she plucked a small flower from the ivy above them, raindrops clinging to its petals. She brought it to Glinda’s hair, tucking it just above her ear with a tenderness that made Glinda’s heart lurch. Her fingers lingered, grazing Glinda’s temple as her eyes traced the path they left behind.

“Perfect.” Elphaba’s voice was quiet, almost reverent. Glinda’s cheeks flushed, warmth blooming in her chest, even as the rain continued to fall.

Then, the clouds opened, and the raindrops grew heavier, colder, soaking through Glinda’s dress and plastering curls to her face. She gasped, a laugh escaping her as she wiped water from her eyes. 

“Come on!” she exclaimed, grabbing Elphaba’s hand. “Before we get completely soaked!”

Elphaba’s fingers tightened around hers, a grin breaking across her face, and together, they ran, splashing through puddles, laughter mingling with the sound of rain. Glinda’s heart soared as they dashed through the garden, feet slipping on wet grass, water soaking into her shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to care. It was exhilarating, freeing, the world around them blurred by rain.

They came to a stop beneath an ancient oak tree, its branches sprawling above them, heavy with water. The downpour was softer, a curtain of droplets dancing just beyond the canopy. Glinda looked up, catching her breath, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed. She looked at Elphaba, at the way her hair stuck to her face, droplets catching on her eyelashes and felt something deep and terrifyingly beautiful take root in her chest.

An ache settled in her ribs. She reached up, her fingers brushing the raindrops from Elphaba’s cheek, her thumb lingering on her lips—soft, slightly swollen from their kiss. Elphaba’s eyes softened, her lips parting just slightly under Glinda’s touch.

“You’re captivating,” she murmured.

Elphaba’s breath hitched, her eyes wide, but she didn’t pull away. Glinda’s heart fluttered, the ache beneath her ribs tightening, spreading. It was like gravity, like falling, the world tilting beneath her feet. It burrowed deep inside her, vulnerable and unguarded. She didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know if she wanted to guard it or let it grow, wild and unruly, wrapping itself around her heart.

A raindrop slipped from a leaf above, landing on Elphaba’s nose. She scrunched it, blinking, and Glinda laughed, the sound light and bright, echoing through the garden. Elphaba’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a spark of mischief lighting her gaze.

“You’re ridiculous,” Elphaba teased, her voice low and affectionate.

“And you’re beautiful,” Glinda whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop herself. Elphaba’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing, and Glinda felt her heart lurch, her breath catch in her throat.

She leaned in slowly, her gaze never leaving Elphaba’s. Time seemed to stretch, the world fading around them as Glinda closed the distance, her lips brushing softly against Elphaba’s. The kiss was gentle, tender, a delicate whisper of affection. Different from before, less desperate, more deliberate. She took her time, her fingers drifting to cradle Elphaba’s face, thumbs brushing softly along her cheekbones, grounding her in the moment. Elphaba’s lips were warm, sweet, moving slowly, washing away everything but the feeling of being together. Glinda’s heart fluttered, the ache beneath her ribs tightening as she melted into the kiss, savoring it.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested lightly against Elphaba’s, their noses brushed, and Glinda’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto Elphaba’s. Their breath mingled, the world around them blurred by rain and laughter and the quiet hum of something unspoken. For a moment, it was just them, standing beneath the oak tree, the rain falling softly around them.

A breeze rustled through the branches above, sending a shower of raindrops down. Glinda laughed, the sound light and musical, and Elphaba’s lips curved into a smile, her eyes bright, alive with affection.

“We should get inside before we catch a cold,” Elphaba murmured, entwining her fingers with Glinda’s.

“I suppose that would be sensible,” Glinda grinned, her heart light and her chest warm.

They ran again, dodging puddles and slipping on the wet stone paths, their laughter echoing through the garden. Glinda’s heart raced, not from running, but from the feeling of Elphaba’s hand in hers and the memory of Elphaba’s lips, warm and soft against her own.

As they ran through the rain, Glinda felt herself slipping, sinking deeper into the warmth of Elphaba’s smile, the softness of her touch. There was no turning back, no escaping the flood of devotion rising within her; she was ready to drown in it.

Chapter Text

Late April had arrived, bringing rain. Spring had given way to heavy gray clouds, and the end of the semester loomed just beyond the horizon. The rain had fallen steadily since morning, a quiet rhythmic patter against the windows that echoed softly through the library. Outside, the sky was dark and swollen, the air thick with humidity. Inside, the lamps burned warmly, their amber glow reflecting off rows of ancient books and dust-coated shelves. The contrast made the library feel cozy, a sanctuary from the dreary weather.

Elphaba sat hunched over her textbooks, her shoulders tense, quill moving steadily across the page. She had claimed this corner of the library long ago—a secluded alcove beneath wide, arched windows where the world felt small and distant. It was where she went to think, to read, to be alone.

Or at least, it used to be.

Glinda’s presence had become as familiar as the rain against the glass. She would drift in with a swirl of perfume and silk, brightening the dimness with her laughter, her chatter, the warmth of her smile. Sometimes she studied, her head bent over her own books. Other times, she merely sat close, her foot nudging Elphaba’s under the table, just to feel the contact. Elphaba didn’t mind. In fact, she had come to crave it, the sound of Glinda’s voice, the brush of her arm, the way she filled the quiet with her light.

But today, that light felt too bright, too distracting. It illuminated thoughts that Elphaba didn’t want to face. Her notes were precise, inked in neat lines across the parchment. She read each word carefully, eyes flicking back and forth, again and again, as if she could force the knowledge into permanence. It was comforting in its predictability, the repetition steadying her pulse. If she just focused hard enough, kept herself busy enough, then she wouldn’t have to think about—

A soft sigh interrupted her thoughts, long and exaggerated, coming from the chair next to her.

Elphaba didn’t look up, though her grip on the quill tightened. She knew Glinda was watching her, had felt those eyes on her for the better part of an hour, but she couldn’t afford the distraction. Not today.

Another sigh, this one even more dramatic. Glinda’s head lolled back against the chair, her golden curls spilling over her shoulders, gaze fixed longingly on the rain-splattered window.

“Elphie…” she whined, the word drawn out in her familiar, sing-song way. “How much longer are you going to study?” Elphaba kept her eyes on her notes, her jaw locking tight.

“Until I’ve memorized the entire textbook.”

Usually, Glinda would laugh, her voice light and melodic, but she only sighed again, quieter, almost wistful. Her fingers drummed idly against the table, the soft tapping breaking the silence. Elphaba’s pulse quickened, an uneasy flutter in her chest. She turned a page, the parchment crinkling beneath her fingertips. She tried to refocus, to drown herself in the words, the neat lines of ink that felt so much safter than the thoughts circling her mind. She blinked hard, focusing her gaze on staying steady.

Glinda was restless, and Elphaba could feel her presence like a warm breeze stirring the air between them. There was no ignoring her, not when she was this close, close enough that Elphaba could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. Another sigh. A light nudge under the table, Glinda’s foot tapping against hers. Elphaba’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t look up.

“Are you even listening to me?” Glinda asked, her foot nudging again, more insistent. “Honestly, Elphie, you’re being impossible today.”

“Then go and find someone more tolerable to bother.”

 Elphaba’s words had a bite to them she instantly regretted. She hadn’t meant to snap, hadn’t meant for the sharpness that cut through her voice, but the tension was wound too tight, coiled up beneath her skin. She kept her eyes on her textbook, refusing to look up.

She expected Glinda to huff, to cross her arms and sulk, but instead there was only stillness, uncharacteristic and heavy, settling between them like a weight.

After a moment, Elphaba’s resolve faltered. Her gaze flicked up, just for a second, and she caught the way Glinda’s face had fallen, the brightness in her eyes dimming, shoulders drawing inward as she sank back against her chair. It was only a flash—hurt, raw and fleeting—but it cut deep. Elphaba’s chest tightened, guilt cutting through her like a blade.

“Glinda, I…” The words stuck, sharp and jagged. She forced herself to soften her tone, to let the tension slip from her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Glinda’s lips pressed together, and her gaze stubbornly fixed on the rain outside. She was quiet for a moment, fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve before she sighed, the sound soft and resigned.

“I know,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Before Elphaba could say anything more, Glinda’s hand slid next to hers on the table, delicate fingers brushing hers. Elphaba’s breath caught, her heart stumbling over itself as Glinda’s thumb made slow, soothing circles over her knuckles. The soft, rhythmic motion eased the tightness in her chest. Glinda’s fingers threaded through her own, warm and gentle, and Elphaba exhaled, releasing the tension.

The rain drummed softly against the window, a steady, comforting hum that filled the silence. Elphaba stared down at their intertwined hands, the sight grounding, solid and real in a way she desperately needed. She tightened her grip, just slightly, anchoring herself. For a moment, nothing else mattered, not the unfinished assignments scattered across the table, not the lingering echo of her own harsh words, nor the gnawing unease that twisted in her gut. Just Glinda’s hand in hers, warm and steady, a quiet promise she couldn’t let go of.

“You know you can tell me, right?” Glinda’s voice was soft, a whisper that wrapped around Elphaba’s heart. “Whatever it is… you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Elphaba swallowed, her throat tightened, and her gaze fixed on their joined hands. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t trust herself to speak. When she didn’t answer, Glinda’s fingers squeezed, gentle but firm.

“Don’t lie to me, Elphie.” Her voice was impossibly soft, tinged with worry. “I know something’s bothering you.”

The words weren’t accusatory, just earnest, a plea for the truth. Elphaba’s chest tightened with the urge to brush it off, but Glinda’s hand was still wrapped in hers; solid, and unwavering, and for once, Elphaba didn’t want to push her away. She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around Glinda’s. Her gaze dropped, her eyes tracing the delicate lines of Glinda’s knuckles as if the answer was hidden in the pattern of her skin. Her heart thudded, heavy and uneven, a rhythm she couldn’t quiet steady.

“It’s my father,” she said finally, the words heavy on her tongue. “He’s been sending me letters.”

“Your father?” Glinda’s eyebrows lifted, her lips parting in surprise. Elphaba nodded, the movement stiff, her shoulders curling inward as if bracing against a chill.

“He’s never written to me before. Not unless it’s something to do with Nessa. And now…” Her fingers fidgeted against Glinda’s, tracing idle patterns. “He keeps asking about my future. What I plan to do after school, whether I’m coming to Colwen Grounds this summer…” Her jaw tightened, a bitter scoff escaping before she could stop it. “I don’t understand why.” Glinda’s expression softened, her thumb tracing soothing circles over Elphaba’s hand. Her touch was warm, grounding, and Elphaba leaned into it, just a little.

“Maybe he’s just curious.  Maybe he’s… taking an interest?”

“He’s never taken an interest before.” Elphaba’s voice was sharper than she intended, her eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window. Tension coiled in her chest, familiar and unwelcome.

“I know,” Glinda said gently, her fingers pressing a little firmer, anchoring her to the moment. “But people can change. Maybe he’s trying to reconnect, in his own way.” Elphaba’s gaze flicked up, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. She wanted to believe it, to take Glinda’s optimism and wrap herself in it, but the uneasy knot in her chest refused to unravel.

“Maybe,” she conceded, though the word felt hollow. She looked away, her shoulders curling in as her fingers tightened unconsciously around Glinda’s. “It just… doesn’t feel right. He never asks about me. Never.” Her voice wavered, barely more than a whisper. “Why now?”

A thoughtful silence settled between them, the rain a soft murmur against the windowpane. Glinda’s eyes searched her face, her expression tender.

“Have you talked to Nessa about it?” she asked. “She might know more about his intentions.” Elphaba’s shoulders eased, the tension ebbing just a little.

“No, I haven’t. But maybe I should.” Her gaze flicked back to Glinda, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

 Glinda’s returning smile was warm, her eyes soft as she leaned forward, her gaze darting around the library before her lips brushed against Elphaba’s. Quick, featherlight, there and gone in an instant.

But it wasn’t enough.

Before Glinda could pull away, Elphaba’s hand moved instinctively, her fingers curling around the back of Glinda’s neck. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the empty corner of the library, then back to Glinda. For a heartbeat, neither moved, the air between them charged and fragile. Then, Glinda’s eyes fluttered shut, her breath hitching as Elphaba pulled her closer, their lips meeting in a kiss that was slower, deeper, lingering with a tenderness that made Elphaba’s chest ache.

The rain was a distant whisper as warmth spread through her, softening the jagged edges of her worry. She tasted the faint sweetness of Glinda’s lip gloss, could feel the gentle press of Glinda’s fingers against her hand, and for a moment, the knot in her chest loosened.

They broke apart, breath mingling, faces close enough that Elphaba could see the faint blush dusting Glinda’s cheeks. She wanted to stay like this, close and unguarded, without the threat of prying eyes or whispering rumors. Her fingers lingered at the nape of Glinda’s neck, reluctant to let go.

But the risk was always there, looming, forcing them back into the shadows. She hated it, hated the secrecy, the careful distance they had to keep in public, the stolen moments that were never long enough. Glinda pulled back, her eyes bright, a smile playing on her lips, and Elphaba’s heart twisted with the need to hold her closer. To be with her without hesitation.

She let her hand fall away, the moment slipping through her fingers like water. It was always the same when they were out—sweet and fleeting—a stolen breath, a whisper lost to the rain.

And she was so tired of being confined to quiet corners and stolen glances.

The bustling market was alive with vibrant colors and lively chatter. Stalls lined the cobblestone street, piled high with fabrics, trinkets, and freshly baked goods. A light breeze carried the scent of sweet pastries and blooming flowers, making the afternoon feel deceptively cheerful. Elphaba walked beside Nessa, her hands tucked in her pockets, her shoulders hunched slightly. Nessa’s chair rolled smoothly over the uneven stones, her eyes flitting from one stall to another. She slowed to inspect a display of shimmering scarves, her fingers brushing over the delicate silk.

“These are beautiful,” she said, lifting a pale blue one to the light. “What do you think, Elphaba?” Elphaba glanced at the scarf, barely giving it a thought.

“It’s nice,” she muttered. Her eyes wandered, scanning the crowded street with a distant look. Nessa’s lips twitched in amusement.

“You could at least pretend to be interested,” she said, folding the scarf neatly before placing it back. “I must admit, this isn’t exactly your scene. What made you decide to come out with me today?” Elphaba hesitated, her fingers twitching inside her pockets. She opened her mouth, then closed it, her gaze shifting to the bustling crowd. The letters weighed heavily on her thoughts, their words echoing in the back of her mind. A lump formed in her throat, the words refusing to come out.

“It was Glinda’s idea,” she said instead.

“Oh?” Nessa’s eyebrow arched, her curiosity piqued.

“She said I needed a break from my books,” Elphaba said, looking away. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“That does sound like her,” Nessa said, a teasing lilt in her voice. She pushed her chair forward, pausing at another stall with glass trinkets sparkling in the sunlight. “You don’t have to humor her,” she began, and a huff of laughter escaped Elphaba. “Yet, here you are. She must be quite convincing.”

“She can be,” Elphaba admitted, the corner of her mouth twitching. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and Nessa watched her closely, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“You spend a lot of time with her.”

Elphaba’s posture stiffened, her shoulders squaring as a rush of heat flooded her cheeks.

“She’s my roommate,” Elphaba said matter-of-factly. “It’d be stranger if I didn’t.” Nessa hummed, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“I suppose so.” She rolled her chair forward, leading the way through the crowd. “Well, I’m glad you came. It’s been a while since we’ve done something like this.”

“Yeah… it has,” Elphaba agreed, her features softening. The letters surfaced in her mind again, a dull ache settling in her chest. She opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again.

They continued weaving through the market, pausing every so often to inspect the stalls. Nessa ran her fingers over soft linens, commenting on the patterns, while Elphaba offered absent-minded nods. Her attention drifted more than once, her eyes wandering across the array of goods. When they passed a stall with an assortment of candied fruits and pastries, she hesitated, her gaze lingering on the delicate sugar-coated confections. The vibrant pinks and yellows reminded her of Glinda—bright and cheerful, impossibly sweet. She could picture Glinda’s eyes lighting up at the sight, her smile warm and unguarded.

“Thinking of getting something?” Nessa asked with a knowing smile. Elphaba blinked, jolted from her thoughts.

“I… maybe.” Her voice was too casual, too forced. Her fingers curled into her pockets, the letters prickling at the edges of her mind. She could feel the words pressing against her, demanding to be spoken. Her chest tightened, and she looked away, her brow furrowing. “Have you gotten any strange letters from Father lately?” Nessa’s chair stilled, her curiosity sharpening.

“Strange? No. Why?”

“He’s been writing to me,” Elphaba said, her voice tight. “He keeps asking when the semester ends and when I’ll be coming back home for the summer.” Nessa’s expression relaxed, and she rolled her eyes, a light laugh escaping her.

“He always asks questions like that,” she said, waving it off. “He just wants to make sure you’re behaving.”

“It’s more than that,” Elphaba insisted, her shoulders tightening. “His tone… it feels off.” Nessa’s laughter softened, and her eyes took on a gentler look.

“Elphaba, you’re reading too much into it. He gets vague like that when he’s planning something special. Last time, he threw that big celebration in my honor. Remember?”

“I remember.” Elphaba’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, a scowl forming. “He’s never done that for me.” Nessa’s face fell, and guilt flashed in her eyes.

“That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” She reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly before dropping back to her lap. “I just mean… maybe he’s planning something nice. You should at least give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I don’t trust him,” Elphaba said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t eased.

“I know,” Nessa sighed, her shoulders slumping. “But worrying won’t do you any good. It’s probably just some party or event you’re expected to attend.”

“Maybe,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The unease in her chest remained.

Elphaba’s gaze drifted back to the pastries, the vibrant colors blurring together. She watched the light glint off the delicate sugar crystals, her shoulders easing just slightly. They were bright and airy, almost impossibly perfect, just like Glinda. The thought of her smile flickered in Elphaba’s mind again, painfully sweet, and tugging at Elphaba’s chest, easing the tension there. Nessa watched her closely, her eyes narrowing. A slow smile spread across her lips, a teasing glint sparking in her eyes.

“Okay, I know something is up,” she teased. “You hate sugary pastries like that.” Elphaba blinked, her shoulders stiffening.

“I don’t hate them,” she muttered. “I just don’t understand the appeal of paying for sugar-coated air.” Nessa huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes.

“Right, but you’ve been staring at them for a full minute.” Nessa tilted her head, her eyes narrowing, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s for Glinda, isn’t it?” Elphaba’s breath caught, her posture snapping straight.

“What? No,” she said, too quickly, her voice high pitched and taut. Her arms crossed in front of her and her eyes flicked away, her fingers curling against her sleeves. A faint flush crept up her neck, betraying her. “She just… likes them, that’s all. She never shuts up about how they remind her of home.” Nessa’s smile grew, her amusement barely concealed.

“Uh-huh. So, you’re buying them for her.”

“I never said that,” Elphaba scoffed, her chin lifting defiantly. Her gaze flicked back to the pastries, her jaw tightening. “I was just… looking.” Nessa leaned back in her chair, the corners of her mouth curving upward.

“You’re so obvious, you know that?” she asked with a light laugh and Elphaba’s eyes snapped back to her.

“Obvious?” She repeated, her voice defensive.

“About her,” Nessa said simply. “About how much you care.” Her voice was gentle, devoid of any teasing, her eyes softening as Elphaba’s defenses wavered. Elphaba’s mouth opened, then closed, her shoulder sinking a fraction. Her expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through.

“She’s… my friend,” Elphaba said, her voice quieter, almost unsure. Nessa’s gaze softened, a tender smile forming.

“I never said she wasn’t.” She paused, her eyes searching Elphaba’s face. “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Elphaba looked away, her eyes rifting back to the bright, sugary pastries. The colors blurred again, a dull ache blooming in her chest.

“If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it to yourself?” Elphaba asked, her voice so quiet it was almost lost beneath the hum of the market. Nessa’s eyes widened, a spark of excitement igniting behind them. Her mouth opened in a small gasp before she quickly pressed her lips together, fighting a grin that threatened to spill out. She leaned in, her voice carefully steady.

“Of course,” she said, a touch too quickly. “You can trust me.” Elphaba’s shoulders tensed, her gaze still fixed on the pastries.

“We… mean something to each other,” she confessed, her voice low, measured. Her cheeks flushed as she continued, “It’s not just a friendship. Not anymore.” Nessa’s face lit up, her eyes gleaming with delight. Her fingers danced nervously on the armrests of her chair, as if to keep her hands from clapping together.

“I knew it!” She burst out, then caught herself, clearing her throat and smoothing her expression. “I mean, I thought so.” Her tone was more controlled, but her eyes sparkled with undeniable glee. “For how long?” Elphaba’s hand drifted to her neck, fingers brushing over her collarbone as she looked away, her face warming under Nessa’s eager gaze.

“A couple of months,” Elphaba admitted, her voice low. She flicked her eyes back to Nessa, a touch of apprehension in her expression. “Give or take.” Nessa’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widening as a sharp, shocked laugh escaped her.

“Months?” she repeated, her voice incredulous. She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of her armrest. “You’ve been together for months?” Elphaba shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant as heat crept up her neck, blooming across her cheeks.

“We kept it quiet,” she muttered.

 “Why keep it a secret for so long?” Nessa pressed, her curiosity burning through her initial shock. Elphaba’s jaw tightened, her fingers curling into her sleeves as she let out a frustrated sigh.

“I was worried that if word got to Morrible she’d make us switch rooms. And…” She hesitated, her voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t want to ruin things for Glinda. For us.” Nessa’s excitement softened into understanding.

“You were protecting yourselves,” she said quietly. “Even if it meant hiding how you feel.” Elphaba gave a curt nod, her fingers flexing against her sleeves.

“But I’m tired of it,” she admitted, her voice firmer. “I want to be with her. Fully. I don’t want to pretend that she doesn’t mean…” her words faltered, and she looked away for a moment. “Everything.” She swallowed, her face flushing deeper. Nessa’s smile widened, her giddiness bubbling up once more, unable to fully contain her joy.

“Elphaba,” she said, laughter dancing in her voice. “You two are practically all over each other. It would be more surprising if you weren’t together.” Elphaba’s eyes widened, her face heating.

“We are not—”

“Oh, please. The way you look at her? The way she looks at you?” Nessa arched an eyebrow, her grin widening. “You’d have to be blind not to see it.” She leaned back, her shoulders shaking with a barely contained giggle. “I knew it. I just knew it.” Elphaba looked away, her face burning, but a small, reluctant smile formed on her lips.

“Are we really that obvious?” she asked, and Nessa laughed, a light joyous sound. Then she softened, her eyes growing more tender.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

The tension in Elphaba’s shoulders eased. Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as an image of Glinda formed in her mind—sunlight catching in golden curls, laughter tumbling like music, eyes shining with the impossible brightness that made the world seem a little better. Glinda carried a light in her, one that warmed Elphaba in places she had never known were cold. Her chest tightened, her heart stuttering at the thought. It was terrifying, the longing that seemed to stretch endlessly inside her, but it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever known.

Her eyes softened, a flush warming her cheeks as the thought settled over her like the gentle brush of Glinda’s hand against hers.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I really do.” Nessa’s face softened, her excitement melting into affection. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on Elphaba’s arm.

“Then go with your heart,” she urged. “Stop worrying about things that might happen and do what’s going to make you both happy.” Elphaba looked at her, the weight of her fears loosening just a little. Nessa’s words wrapped around her like a gentle breeze, nudging her toward a possibility she hadn’t fully dared to believe in.

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is,” Nessa grinned, her excitement flickering once more, a playful glint in her eyes. “Or maybe you just like to make everything more complicated than it needs to be.” Elphaba scoffed, a reluctant laugh escaping her.

“Says the girl who used to cry if her books weren’t in alphabetical order.” Nessa gasped, her cheeks flushing pink.

“That was one time!” she protested, swatting at Elphaba’s arm. “And you did it on purpose just to annoy me!” A genuine laugh burst from Elphaba’s lips, light and unguarded. The tension in her shoulder eased, her fears fading under the warmth of laughter.

“Thank you, Nessa,” Elphaba said softly. Nessa’s eyes gleamed with affection.

“Anytime.”

They stood there a moment longer, the hum of the market surrounding them, and the air between them warm and light. Elphaba’s fears were still there, but they were beginning to feel more bearable, softened by the hope Nessa had offered her.

“Come on,” Nessa said, wheeling her chair forward. “Let’s go find something sweet before you get all moody again.”

Elphaba rolled her eyes, but let herself be led along, a small, genuine smile lingering on her lips.

The sun was setting when Elphaba slipped back into their room, the golden light spilling through the window and painting everything in soft hues. The air was warm, drowsy with the fading day, and for a moment, Elphaba just stood in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. Glinda sat at her vanity, her back to the door, a delicate hand moving slowly over her cheek with a cotton pad. Her hair was pulled back, a few golden strands curling at her temples, and her face was bare, stripped of the polish and perfection she so often wore. She was beautiful in a way that felt almost unreal—soft, unguarded, and glowing in the evening light.

Elphaba’s fingers tightened around the crinkled paper bag in her hand. Her heart gave a traitorous lurch, the kind that made her want to press a hand to her chest, as if she could hold it still.

“I, uh,” she cleared her throat, “I brought this for you.”

Glinda stood, her reflection catching Elphaba’s gaze for a moment before the real thing stole her breath away. Her lips parted, a smile blooming across her face, and she pushed up from the vanity, her robe trailing behind as she crossed the room.

“You did?” Her voice was soft, a little breathless, and when she reached Elphaba, she rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her lips were warm, a quick brush against Elphaba’s skin, but it left a trail of warmth behind. Elphaba swallowed, her pulse fluttering.

“It’s raspberry,” she said, her voice a little rough. Glinda’s eyes widened, and a low, delighted groan slipped from her throat as she reached for the bag. She tugged it open, the pastry inside already tempting her, and when she took the first bite, her eyes sparkled.

“You’re so good to me,” she moaned, mouth completely full of pastry. Elphaba’s mouth twitched, fighting back a smile.

“You act like I never feed you,” Elphaba said, teasing. Glinda looked up, her eyes sparking with mischief as she took another bite.

“You don’t bring me pastries,” she countered, a playful pout forming. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to charm me.” She paused and winked before continuing, “So, what are you expecting in return?”

“Please. It’s just a pastry.” Elphaba’s cheeks flushed but she kept her voice steady.

“Mhmm,” Glinda hummed, unconvinced, her eyes flicking up to meet Elphaba’s. “Well, whatever your motives, thank you, it’s delicious.” She took one last bite, savoring it.

A smear of raspberry lingered at the corner of her mouth, vivid against her pink lips. Elphaba’s heart skipped, her gaze catching on the spot. Her chest tightened and before she could think better of it, she reached up, her thumb brushing against Glinda’s mouth, wiping away the sticky sweetness.

Glinda’s breath hitched, and her eyes widened as her lips parted under Elphaba’s touch.

Time seemed to slow, and the world narrowed in on them. Elphaba’s hand lingered, her fingers trembling just slightly as she pulled away.

“You look silly,” she murmured, her voice soft, affection slipping out unguarded. Glinda blinked, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“Well,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. “We can’t have that, can we?” Her smile was smaller, more vulnerable, as if she were afraid to shatter the fragile air between them. Elphaba watched her, the golden light wrapping around her like a halo. Her chest tightened, an ache blooming deep inside her. She wanted Glinda, not just in stolen moments or behind closed doors, but everywhere, in front of everyone. She didn’t care anymore. The thought tumbled through her, sharp and sudden, and before she could stop herself, the words were spilling out.

“I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“What?” Glinda’s eyes snapped to Elphaba’s, wide and searching. Elphaba’s heart leapt in her throat, but there was no taking it back. She swallowed, her mouth dry.

“I don’t want to keep us a secret anymore,” she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper. “I’m done pretending that we’re just friends.”

Glinda’s lips parted, her eyes going wide as the words sank in. For a heartbeat, she was perfectly still, and then a delighted squeal burst from her.

“Oh, Elphie!” She practically launched herself forward, her arms looping around Elphaba’s neck as she squeezed her tight, her face pressed against Elphaba’s shoulder. Elphaba stumbled back a step, her heart pounding as her arms wrapped instinctively around Glinda’s waist. She was warm and soft, her joy so radiant it was almost dizzying. Glinda pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes sparkling, and her smile so bright it took Elphaba’s breath away.

And then she laughed, the kind of laughter that made Elphaba’s chest feel impossibly full, as if the world had just tilted into something sweeter. Elphaba let out a soft chuckle, unable to help herself, her chest lighter than it had been in days.

Glinda’s excitement finally settled, her laughter fading into a soft, breathless sigh. Her hands lingered on Elphaba’s shoulders, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at her.

“I can’t believe it,” she murmured, voice trembling. “I can… I can stop looking over my shoulder every time I want to kiss you.” Her voice broke on the last words, her eyes shining. “I’ve wanted that for so long.” Elphaba’s chest tightened, her fingers flexing at Glinda’s waist.

“Glinda…”

“I hated it,” Glinda continued, her voice growing steadier. “I hated not getting to be myself. I hated pretending we were just friends when all I wanted was to be with you, to be near you.” Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes stayed locked on Elphaba’s, vulnerable and open. “Sometimes, I want you so badly, it drives me mad.” Elphaba’s eyes softened, her heart aching, and she swallowed, her throat tight.

“I didn’t realize how hard it was for you,” she said, her voice low. She reached out, her thumb brushing Glinda’s cheek. Glinda’s eyes grew gentler, her fingers curling into Elphaba’s collar.

“It was hard for both of us,” she corrected quietly. “But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of it, as long as you were mine.” Her eyes shone, her smile growing. “And now you can be. Out loud. And I want that. I want that more than anything.” Elphaba’s heart stuttered, her eyes wide, her pulse thudding. Her chest felt tight, too full, and the words were suddenly there.

“I—” Her voice faltered, her heart stumbling. Glinda was looking at her, eyes wide and so achingly soft, and Elphaba’s throat tightened, the words twisting and catching.

Instead, Elphaba reached out, her fingers brushing Glinda’s cheek before sliding to the back of Glinda’s neck. She leaned in, her lips capturing Glinda’s in a soft, tender kiss. Glinda gasped, her fingers reaching up to cup Elphaba’s cheeks. Her mouth was warm, yielding, and she tasted like raspberries—sweet and tangy, dizzying. Elphaba’s head spun, her fingers slipping to Glinda’s waist, pulling her closer. Glinda melted into her, her body soft and warm, her hands sliding up into Elphaba’s hair. She made a soft, breathless sound that sent a shiver down Elphaba’s spine. Her heart ached and her chest tightened.

The taste of raspberry lingered, sweet and intoxicating, and Elphaba smiled into the kiss, her heart tumbling. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, the world vast and endless beneath her, the wind tugging at her, urging her to leap, to fall. And maybe she was already plummeting, breathless and weightless, with no desire to stop.

When they finally pulled apart, Glinda’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. She looked at Elphaba with a smile so bright it could have rivaled the sunset, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.

“You taste like raspberries,” Elphaba teased, her lips tingling. Glinda’s laugh was light and musical, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Her fingers played with the collar of Elphaba’s shirt, her face glowing in the golden light.

Elphaba’s chest tightened, the world narrowing to just Glinda, her touch, her smile, the rise and fall of her breath. Elphaba looked at her, really looked at her, and felt a familiar ache, an overwhelming rush that made her helpless, utterly powerless against the way Glinda looked at her. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Glinda’s forehead, lingering for just a moment. Glinda sighed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“You know,” Glinda murmured. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” Her voice was quiet, a whispered confession that curled against Elphaba’s heart, squeezing it. Elphaba’s breath caught, her chest tightening, pulse thrumming in her ears. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Glinda’s, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the sun sinking lower and bathing the room in shades of gold and pink. And Elphaba’s heart kept tumbling, kept falling. The warmth of Glinda’s presence filled her completely, consuming every part of her until nothing but the quiet pull of longing remained.

Chapter Text

The commons was filled with the soft glow of the sun, its golden light spilling through the windows and casting long, gentle shadows across the floor. The air was warm, a comfortable heat that lingered in the late afternoon, a reminder that summer was just around the corner. The fire in the hearth remained unlit, unnecessary in the warmth of the room. Glinda loved the calm of the moment, the way the sunlight stretched lazily across the space, creating a peaceful atmosphere that made everything feel slow and easy.

Across from Glinda, Shenshen hovered over Pfannee’s nails, the brush moving in quick, practiced strokes. The scent of lavender and nail polish filled the air as Shenshen muttered something about technique, all while Milla animatedly retold a story of Avaric’s latest over-the-top romantic gesture. Her hands flailed as she spoke, one arm dramatically flung across the back of the chair, eyes wide with mock disbelief. Nessa, ever the attentive listener, laughed at the right moments, her eyes crinkling at the edges. Every so often, Glinda caught her glancing toward Elphaba, who sat with quiet grace on the couch beside her.

Elphaba’s laugh broke through the chatter, low and warm, and Glinda couldn’t help but turn her head. The curve of her smile, so rare and beautiful, sent Glinda’s heart fluttering. She shifted closer, her shoulder pressing against Elphaba’s, and let her hand drift down Elphaba’s arm. Her fingers brushed over Elphaba’s knuckles before curling around them, drawing Elphaba’s hand into her lap. Elphaba squeezed back without hesitation, her thumb stroking lazily around Glinda’s fingers. Warmth spread low in Glinda’s stomach, sweet and satisfying. She stole a glance around the room, her heart pounding.

Nothing.

Pfannee was still watching her nails dry, and Shenshen laughed at something Milla had said. Nessa’s gaze flicked toward them briefly, then away again like it was nothing new.

Glinda’s chest tightened. She thought someone surely would have noticed. She leaned closer to Elphaba, resting her head against her shoulder, their fingers still intertwined.

Still nothing.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, lips pressing into a thin line. All day she’d been dropping hints—a lingering touch, a shared smile, deliberate closeness—yet no one seemed remotely interested.

“And then he kissed me as the boat went under the bridge,” Milla sighed, sinking back into her chair. “I thought he’d finally tell me that he loves me.”

“All boys run from their feelings,” Nessa said knowingly. “It took Boq, what, a whole semester and a half to finally ask me out?”

“Boq is a bit of a special case,” Pfannee quipped, blowing on her nails.

“He’s so shy we thought he’d follow you around like a puppy the whole year and never say anything,” Shenshen added with a giggle.

“I think it’s sweet,” Milla said. “If it took him so long to build up the courage, he must care about you.” Nessa’s face flushed pink as she lowered her gaze to her lap. Glinda’s eyes flickered to Elphaba, who was already watching her, an almost imperceptible softening of her expression. Elphaba’s fingers squeezed hers, a quick, quiet gesture, and Glinda’s chest tightened, the unspoken message lingering between them.

“It’s wonderful,” Glinda said softly. “To have someone who really cares about you, who knows you almost better than you know yourself.” There was a beat of silence, too short to be awkward, too long to be nothing.

“Glinda the poet,” Pfannee teased, and laughter followed, light, sharp, and splintering. Glinda’s smile wavered as heat crept up her neck, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Elphaba’s eyes flickered briefly to Glinda before her lips curved ever so slightly.

“I think she’s right,” Elphaba said, her voice quiet but pointed. “It must be nice to have someone who doesn’t need to guess.” Glinda’s breath caught as she met Elphaba’s gaze. A silent understanding flickered between them, and her heart stuttered in her chest at the depth of Elphaba’s words, the sincerity in her eyes leaving her momentarily breathless. The moment lingered before Milla cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

“Anyway,” she said with a grin, “who’s up for a game?”

“Oh, let’s play charades!” Shenshen clapped her hands together excitedly. Glinda straightened a little too quickly.

“I want Elphie on my team!”

Pfannee barely concealed a smirk as she exchanged looks with Shenshen.

“As if we needed the announcement,” Pfannee muttered. Shenshen giggled, muffled behind her hand.

“That’s not fair,” Milla whined, pouting. “You always get Elphaba, and you two always win.”

“Maybe if you spent less time whining, you’d be better at it,” Elphaba said with a shrug.

The game began with Nessa and Milla going first, struggling through guesses that were either wildly wrong or frustratingly close. Shenshen managed a few lucky points for her team, though Pfannee mostly spent her turns sighing in exasperation. By the time Glinda and Elphaba were up, the room was warm with laughter. Glinda smoothed her skirt as she stood, casting Elphaba a soft but confident smile.

She tossed her hair and smoothed her skirt with a slow, deliberate flair before sauntering across the room with exaggerated confidence. Each step was calculated, her chin tipped just a little too high, her smile a little too smug. She paused to finger the collar of her blouse like she was adjusting an ascot, then struck a lazy pose with one hand on her hip. Elphaba’s gaze followed her the whole way—sharp yet unmistakably fond.

“Fiyero,” Elphaba drawled before Glinda had even finished her preening.

“Yes!” Glinda froze mid-step, breaking into a dazzling smile that lingered on Elphaba’s face.

“Oh, come on. That could have been anything,” Pfannee groaned.

“Only if you’re not paying attention,” Elphaba said smugly, leaning back against the arm of the sofa like she hadn’t even needed to try. Glinda’s gaze caught on her, the way her features sharpened, just slightly, with that smug little smile. She looked so sure of herself, so calm and unaffected, all dark hair and sharp angles, her long fingers drumming lazily against the arm of the sofa. She looked like she belonged there, stretched out and certain, as if winning was inevitable. Warmth bloomed in Glinda’s chest, rising to her throat. It wasn’t fair that someone could look so… desirable.

Glinda barely bit back a giggle before launching into her next performance. She squared her shoulder, snapped her chin up, and started marching stiffly back and forth across the room. Her steps were sharp and deliberate, arms rigid at her sides. Occasionally, she jerked one hand up in a stiff salute, her face stoic. Elphaba tilted her head, her eyes narrowing.

“Gale Force soldier,” she said, her voice soft, but still confident, like she enjoyed watching Glinda more than winning the point.

Pfannee made a strangled noise of frustration.

“Maybe Milla’s right,” she muttered. “We should split the two of you up.”

“Good idea,” Shenshen said with a grin. “We’d just spend the whole time pretending to be Elphaba, that’d be sure to rack up some points.” Milla giggled behind her hand and Glinda’s neck flushed with heat.

“Ignore them, dear, they’re just trying to fluster you so that we lose,” Elphaba said with a wink, her eyes glinting playfully as she gave Glinda an encouraging smile.

They carried on with the game, and Glinda mimed a milkmaid balancing an invisible bucket on her hip, a Shiz professor jabbing an imaginary chalk stick at the air, and someone dramatically flipping through a book.

“The Wizard,” Elphaba muttered with barely a glance as Glinda’s pretend page turned. Milla groaned dramatically.

“You two are impossible! How are we supposed to win if you’re always this good?”

Glinda couldn’t help but laugh, her fingers still hovering in the air as she caught Elphaba’s amused gaze.

When the final scores were tallied, with Glinda and Elphaba comfortably in the lead, Glinda let out a delighted squeal. She turned to Elphaba, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. Elphaba barely blinked, she just smiled that small, warm smile that made Glinda feel like she’d just done something wonderful.

But no one else reacted.

Pfannee was too busy complaining about the scoring. Milla flopped against the arm of her chair with a groan. Shenshen muttered something to Nessa, both of them laughing softly like they’d already forgotten the game. Glinda’s gaze darted between them all, her smile faltering. She lingered a moment longer, half expecting someone to say something—a teasing remark, a knowing look, anything.

She sank back beside Elphaba, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Honestly,” she muttered. “What’s it take to get anyone’s attention?” Elphaba shifted closer, her hand finding Glinda’s beneath her folded arms. Her fingers curled gently around her own, warm and steady. The tightness in Glinda’s chest eased just a little. She didn’t uncross her arms, but her fingers laced quietly through Elphaba’s in return.

“Maybe they’re just used to it,” Elphaba murmured.

“Well, I’m not,” Glinda shot back, too quietly for anyone else to hear. Shenshen stood, her voice cutting through the room.

“We should probably go and get ready.”

“For what?” Glinda asked, her voice sharp.

“To meet the boys at the Peach and Kidneys,” Shenshen said with an exaggerated sigh, as if it were obvious. “What, were you gazing into Elphaba’s eyes so long you forgot?” Glinda’s cheeks flamed.

“I wasn’t—”

“Oh, please,” Shenshen grinned. “You’re lucky I reminded you, or you’d probably still be sitting here batting your eyes at her when we came back.” Pfannee snickered.

“Don’t take too long fixing your hair,” she added with a smirk as she swept past Glinda. “We’d actually like to get there tonight.” Glinda opened her mouth to retort but the girls were already filing out of the room, chatting amongst themselves. She huffed under her breath, tossing her curls over her shoulder.

“I don’t take that long,” she muttered. Elphaba stood and stretched, giving Glinda a crooked smile.

“You kind of do.”

Glinda rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. As she followed Elphaba out, her fingers curled tightly around Elphaba’s hand. She leaned in, her voice soft but teasing.

“Only because I want to look perfect for you.”

Elphaba’s smile was genuine, warmth in her eyes as she squeezed Glinda’s hand and chuckled softly.

“My sweet, if that were the case it wouldn’t take you any time at all,” she said softly. Glinda’s heart skipped a beat, and she leaned a little closer, nudging Elphaba’s shoulder with hers.

“You’re just saying that because you like me,” she teased. Elphaba’s chuckle deepened, her gaze softening as she glanced down at their joined hands.

“Maybe,” she murmured, her thumb brushing gently over Glinda’s knuckles. The world felt quieter, more intimate, as their hands intertwined more securely. Glinda let out a soft sigh, her chest warm. Their steps slowed, as they walked out together, the evening ahead full of possibilities.

Glinda sat at her vanity, dabbing her face with powder, her delicate movements careful and precise. The soft rustling of her brush was the only sound in the room, mixing with the occasional soft sigh from Elphaba behind her. Elphaba lay on the bed, propped up on one arm, her dark hair falling around her face as her gaze lingered on Glinda. The sun had barely begun to set, casting a warm, golden light across the room. The fading light softened everything, painting the space in a honeyed hue.

The rays kissed Elphaba’s skin, making her green complexion glow with an almost ethereal warmth. The sun’s glow seemed to deepen the rich tones of her skin, bringing out the earthy, vibrant greens in a way that made her appear almost otherworldly. She looked like something conjured from the light itself—radiant and untouchable, yet utterly grounded.

Glinda’s gaze flickered in the mirror, meeting Elphaba’s eyes. For a heartbeat, time seemed to stretch, a quiet understanding passing between them. Glinda couldn’t help but smirk at the intensity in Elphaba’s expression, the way she was watching her as though she were something to be devoured. She leaned forward slightly, brushing another layer of powder onto her cheek, but her lips couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corners.

“You know, you really ought to stop staring at me like that,” Glinda said, her voice light, teasing, but with a hint of playfulness. Elphaba raised an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a faint smile.

“And why is that?” Her voice was low, almost too casual as if she hadn’t just been drinking in every detail of Glinda’s movements. Glinda caught her reflection again, this time allowing her smile to widen.

“Because if you keep looking at me like that, we’ll never get out of here.”

“What can I say,” Elphaba’s lips curled into a slow, mischievous smile. “Your beauty has bewitched me.” Glinda’s smirk softened into a smile, her cheeks flushing faintly under the compliment.

“Bewitched, are you?” she asked, taking a moment to apply mascara to her lashes. Her gaze met Elphaba’s in the mirror, a playful gleam in her eyes. “Shall I call a physician?” Elphaba’s smile deepened.

“Oh, there’s only one cure for me,” she said, her voice teasing but low. Glinda’s breath caught for a moment, her gaze narrowing as she set the mascara down and turned slightly toward Elphaba.

“And what’s that?” she asked, her voice a soft challenge, the space between them humming with anticipation.

Elphaba rose from her spot on the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. Glinda’s heart skipped a beat as Elphaba closed the distance between them, the heat of her presence radiating through the air. She placed her hands gently on Glinda’s shoulders, her fingers grazing the skin just below her neck. The touch sent a ripple of warmth through Glinda, her pulse quickening as Elphaba leaned in, her lips grazing Glinda’s cheek with a feather-light kiss.

Glinda’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the weight of Elphaba’s gaze on her lips before she pulled back, the space between them impossibly small. Glinda’s heart raced as her eyes flickered between Elphaba’s lips and her eyes. Elphaba reached out, her hand cupping Glinda’s cheek, her thumb brushing gently over her lip.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” she whispered, her voice thick.

And then, without another word, Elphaba leaned in, capturing Glinda’s lips in a deep, tender kiss. The world around them blurred, the heat between them building in a slow, intoxicating rush. Glinda kissed back, her hand sliding down Elphaba’s arm, her fingers curling against her wrist as if anchoring itself. The kiss deepened like a flame starving for air, fierce and consuming. Elphaba’s fingers tangled in Glinda’s hair as she gasped against her mouth—a sharp, breathless sound that made Glinda’s pulse jump. Without thinking, she reached out, her hand finding Elphaba’s waist and tugging her closer.

Elphaba stumbled forward, her breath hitching as Glinda pulled her into her lap, her legs curling around her waist. For a heartbeat, Elphaba froze, but then her arms slid around Glinda’s neck, her fingers curling against the nape of her neck like they belonged there. She shifted in Glinda’s lap, pressing closer, her body molding to her in an inevitable, instinctual way.

The way Elphaba melted into her, the warmth of her body, the weight of her in Glinda’s lap, sent a rush of heat curling low in her stomach. Her hands slid down Elphaba’s waist, her fingers tracing over the curve of her hip before trailing up her thigh. Elphaba shivered beneath her touch, a soft, involuntary sound slipping from her lips—half sigh, half whimper—and Glinda’s hand stilled, her breath catching.

The sound was like striking a match. Glinda’s fingers tightened, her thumb tracing slow circles beneath the fabric of Elphaba’s skirt. For a beat, neither of them moved, but their eyes locked, a charged silence hanging between them. Glinda’s breath caught in her throat as she held Elphaba’s gaze. Her eyes darkened, her lips parted slightly, like she was giving Elphaba a moment to decide, would she pull away or…

Glinda tilted her head as Elphaba’s chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, her pupils dilated, lips slightly parted in a silent challenge. Then, her gaze flickered to Glinda’s lips, just for a moment, but enough to make Glinda’s pulse spike, to make her feel the heat in the air blazing between them.

 Without another thought, Glinda surged forward, capturing Elphaba’s lips in a kiss that was harder, more demanding. Her lips trailed from Elphaba’s mouth to the curve of her jaw, then lower. Elphaba’s fingers twisted in Glinda’s hair, clinging like she might never let go.

“We’re supposed to be getting ready,” she murmured, her voice unsteady, her breath warm against Glinda’s skin.

“Mhmm.” Glinda pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw again, slower. Her lips skimmed just below Elphaba’s ear before trailing down the side of her neck. “I’ll be quick,” she promised between kisses, her voice light and breathless.

“You never are,” Elphaba said, her voice barely above a whisper, but her hands stayed where they were, fingers tangled in Glinda’s hair, holding her there.

Glinda smiled against her skin, slow and wicked, and kissed her again, not soft, but open and insistent. Elphaba answered just as fiercely, her fingers sliding from Glinda’s hair down to her neck, her thumbs brushing along the curve of her jaw. She held her there, steady and sure. Glinda’s hand slid back up Elphaba’s thigh, higher this time, her fingers curling beneath the edge of her skirt.  Elphaba shivered, a sharp, breathless sound breaking from her lips. Glinda’s pulse pounded, her hand venturing further, her fingers brushing against Elphaba’s underwear. Elphaba gasped softly, her thighs tightening beneath Glinda’s touch.

For a moment, Glinda stilled, just feeling her. The warmth of her, the way Elphaba’s breath hitched in her ear, the way she pressed closer like she couldn’t help herself was dizzying. Glinda had everything she wanted right here, warm and wanting beneath her hands. But she wanted more.

Elphaba kissed her again, her hands sliding lower, her fingertips grazing Glinda’s collarbone before trailing down to the hollow of her throat. Glinda’s breath caught, her head tilting back as Elphaba’s lips found her neck. She kissed her there, slow and lingering, like she wanted to leave her mark.

Glinda’s fingers flexed, slipping beneath Elphaba’s underwear—soft, warm, and wet beneath her touch. Elphaba’s breath faltered, her head tipping back as a quiet, breathless moan escaped her lips.

“Glinda—” Elphaba started, but her words melted into a shaky exhale as Glinda kissed her neck, her fingers pushing deeper.

“You feel so good, Elphie,” Glinda groaned, her voice thick and low. Elphaba shuddered around her fingers, her breath coming quicker, her body soft, warm, and yielding beneath Glinda’s touch. Glinda pressed her palm more firmly against her, savoring the way Elphaba moved into it, her hips shifting, her breath catching in short, uneven gasps.

Elphaba’s hand slipped back into Glinda’s hair, her fingers flexing, pulling her closer as her mouth found hers again. She kissed her like she was starved for it, their tongues tangling in a messy, desperate rhythm that left them both breathless. Glinda moaned softly against her mouth, curling her fingers inside Elphaba, chasing every shaky breath, every broken sigh.

Glinda couldn’t tear her eyes away from her, from the way Elphaba’s head tipped back, her hair spilling down her shoulders, her mouth parting in a quiet, broken sigh. She was so beautiful this way—her sharp edges softened, her careful control slipping away. Glinda felt breathless just watching her, the sight pooling deep in her stomach.

“Just like that,” Glinda whispered, her fingers curling inside her, chasing every thrust of Elphaba’s hips, every quiet moan that escaped her. Elphaba’s hand clenched weakly at the back of Glinda’s neck like she was trying to ground herself, her body trembling with each press of Glinda’s fingers.

“You’re perfect,” Glinda breathed, kissing her again, hard and wanting, her tongue sweeping over Elphaba’s in a kiss that left them both gasping. Elphaba kissed her back with a trembling urgency, her fingers tangling in Glinda’s hair, her body tightening more and more until she shuddered in Glinda’s arms, a soft, broken moan spilling from her lips.

Her leg jerked suddenly, knocking hard against the vanity with a sharp thud. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Elphaba let out a breathless laugh, her face flushing darker as she dropped her forehead against Glinda’s. Glinda giggled, her fingers resting on Elphaba’s thigh.

“Careful, you’ll leave a bruise,” she teased.

“You’re the one who won’t behave,” Elphaba shot back, but there was no bite in her voice, just soft eyes as she looked at her. Glinda leaned in, brushing her lips gently over Elphaba’s.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” she murmured.

“No,” Elphaba said quietly, her fingers tracing slow circles at the nape of Glinda’s neck. “I wouldn’t.”

The sun had dipped under the horizon by the time Glinda and Elphaba made their way to the Peach and Kidneys, the sky painted in shades of soft lavender and fading gold. The air was warm, a gentle evening breeze blowing through their hair as they walked. The cobblestone street was alive with people, laughter and chatter spilling from every corner as friends meandered between the rows of glowing lights, the scent of warm bread and roasting meat drifting from nearby restaurants. Couples walked arm in arm, their silhouettes framed by the flickering lights.

Glinda leaned into Elphaba’s side, her hand sliding to Elphaba’s arm, fingers curling around it like a natural fit. She pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, smiling as she caught the quiet, content look on Elphaba’s face.

“You know,” Elphaba said, giving her a sideways look. “I don’t understand why we can’t just tell everyone.”

“Because,” Glinda huffed, lifting her chin. “This is a momentous occasion, and momentous occasions require the appropriate amount of flairification and dramatics.” Elphaba snorted.

“And what exactly does that look like?”

“Oh, you know.” Glinda waved a hand vaguely. “A perfectly timed kiss, perhaps a gasp or two, some heartfelt applause…” Elphaba shook her head, smiling.

“I suppose you’ll want roses tossed at our feet, too?”

“Well,” Glinda said brightly. “I wouldn’t say no to that.” Elphaba laughed, low and warm.

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

The street buzzed with life, lights casting a soft glow and illuminating clusters of people who laughed and chatted as they moved between pubs. Glinda and Elphaba walked side by side, their arms loosely linked, their steps falling in and out of sync. Glinda leaned in just a little closer, her shoulder brushing against Elphaba’s, and she smiled when she noticed the way Elphaba’s eyes softened in the golden light.

“You’re crowding me,” Elphaba muttered as Glinda bumped their shoulders together for the third time.

“I am not,” Glinda shot back, only to nudge her again a moment later, grinning when Elphaba sighed through her nose, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. Elphaba answered with a bump of her own, just firm enough to make Glinda stumble sideways with a laugh. Glinda swatted at her arm, and Elphaba caught her wrist before she could pull away, giving her a squeeze.

When they reached a shallow puddle, Elphaba shifted before Glinda could step into it, her hand sliding from Glinda’s arm to her waist as she guided her around.

“Careful,” Elphaba said, her voice softer. Glinda hummed in contentment, her hand finding Elphaba’s and covering it without a second thought. Her fingers traced the sharp lines of Elphaba’s knuckles before settling over them, their hands fitting together like they belonged there.

Elphaba’s thumb shifted, brushing absently against the fabric of Glinda’s dress. The warmth curling in her chest wasn’t new; the easy comfort of Elphaba’s touch steadied her, made it seem like everything else could fall away but it wouldn’t matter as long as she still had her.

Glinda glanced up at her, and for a moment, everything around her softened—the laughter spilling from open doorways, the clatter of footsteps on cobblestone, the warm night air curling around them. None of it could touch her. There was only Elphaba, her sharp profile softened by the streetlights, her mouth set in that faint, thoughtful smile she wore when she believed no one was looking.

Glinda’s fingers curled a little tighter around Elphaba’s, like she could anchor herself there. It wasn’t enough. She shifted closer, pressing her cheek to Elphaba’s shoulder, but still, she wanted more. Her arms looped around Elphaba’s waist, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt like she could pull her closer still. She turned her face in, nuzzling against the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

She couldn’t explain it—the ache, the impossible need to crawl inside her, to stay wrapped in her and never have to let go. She was like the moon, forever drawn to the earth—its pull a constant force, never straying far. She was bound to Elphaba like that, an unspoken connection that kept them together, orbiting around each other, never parting.

Ahead, a figure caught her attention: a man stood beneath a streetlight, his face pale, his posture tense. He clutched a piece of paper in both hands, his eyes darting across the page as though the words on it might leap off and strike him. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and his grip on the paper tightened until his knuckles went white.

Glinda’s body instinctively pulled back from the warmth of Elphaba’s side. She straightened as she unwound from Elphaba, returning her hand to loop around her arm. Something about the frantic energy in his movements, the way he seemed to shrink into himself, made Glinda’s steps slow. Her stomach knotted as an inexplicable tension settled over her, a warning that she couldn’t quite place. It was the way his eyes flickered nervously, like he was trying to outrun something, or hide from it.

The man shoved the paper into his coat and hurried off, his quick steps echoing against the cobblestones. As he passed them, barreled into Elphaba’s side, knocking roughly into her.

“Hey!” Glinda’s hand dropped from Elphaba’s arm as she twisted around. “Excuse you!” Her face flushed red, heat prickling her skin. Elphaba chuckled under her breath.

“Easy there, tiger.”

“Oh, don’t laugh.” Glinda huffed, smoothing down her skirt. “He nearly knocked you over!”

“Nearly,” Elphaba said, still smiling. “But you’re cute when you’re cross.” Glinda shot her a look, but her mouth twitched, betraying her. She swatted Elphaba’s arm before leaning back into her side.

As they walked, Glinda stole one last glance behind them, her chest tightening once more as the man disappeared into the crowd. The feeling of unease still lingered at the back of her mind, but when Elphaba’s hand gently slid into hers, squeezing softly, the tension began to ease, melting away like morning dew. She squeezed back, letting the simple touch ground her, reminding her that right here, right now, everything was fine.

“We’re going to be late,” Elphaba murmured, her voice low but firm, pulling Glinda back into the present.

The booth at the Peach and Kidneys was alive with the hum of conversation, a mix of voices swirling around them, some familiar, others a blur of casual chatter. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced ale, punctuated by the occasional clink of glassware and the soft laughter of patrons tucked into their own corners. Warm light spilled from lights overhead, casting a golden hue over the wooden tables, where the rich tones of the walls seemed to absorb the evening.

Glinda leaned into Elphaba’s side, the soft weight of her body seeking more of Elphaba’s warmth as the night settled in. With a quick glance, her fingers found their way to Elphaba’s arm, curling around it without hesitation. In one fluid motion, she pulled Elphaba’s arm around her waist, tucking herself closer like it was the most natural thing in the world. Elphaba’s hand gave a small, silent squeeze to her waist, the gesture soft but firm. It was an unspoken response, a wordless acknowledgement of closeness that she was more than willing to share.

As the conversation around them softened into a lull, Glinda’s gaze flicked between her friends, her thoughts flickering with impatience. Her fingers drummed lightly on Elphaba’s arm, the subtle rhythm of her plotting unnoticed by anyone but herself. The warm buzz of voices around them seemed to fade, replaced by the steady, pulsing beat of her heart in her ears. The air was thick with anticipation, the quiet growing more pronounced as the minutes passed. Then, as if the universe had conspired in her favor, Fiyero stood to fetch another round of drinks. Glinda’s pulse quickened, and her mouth curved into a small, private smile. This was it.

She didn’t speak, didn’t hesitate. Glinda simply turned toward Elphaba, her breath catching for a moment, caught in the weight of the intimacy between them. Her eyes locked with Elphaba’s, dark and knowing, a silent understanding passing between them before she reached up, fingers trembling just slightly as they cupped Elphaba’s jaw. It was a softness that only she could offer, a tender brush of her fingertips against Elphaba’s skin, grounding her in the moment.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stretch. There was a brief hesitation, a flutter of nerves in Glinda’s chest, but it was only a breath before she pulled Elphaba toward her. She moved slowly, with intention, their lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss as the world outside fell away. The press of their mouths was unhurried, deliberate—sweet and searching, like a confession, whispered without words. Glinda’s heart fluttered as the kiss deepened, just slightly, savoring the moment, the warmth, the feeling of Elphaba so close.

In the quiet that followed, the world snapped back into focus, but Glinda stayed there, just a moment longer, drinking in the feeling of Elphaba’s warmth against her. The silence between them was intimate, shared and comfortable, before she pulled back just enough to see the soft, dazed look in Elphaba’s eyes, like she’d just woken from a dream.

Her eyes fluttered for a moment, and Glinda’s lips quirked upward, satisfaction curling through her. She glanced around the table, expecting a flurry of reactions—surprised gasps, teasing remarks maybe a playful whistle or two. She waited for the reactions to flood in.

But the seconds dragged on.

The silence stretched, awkward and thick, as everyone at the table stared, as though none of them knew what to do next. Glinda’s breath caught in her chest. Her smile faltered just a little, like a flickering candle, before she shot up from her seat.

“What?” she said, her voice a little too sharp. “Do I have to—” she cut herself off, scanning their faces with growing frustration, unable to hide the flush creeping up her neck. “Do I have to rip her clothes off right here in front of you for someone to finally say something?”

The table remained silent.

Her gaze flicked over the group again, desperately searching for any sign of recognition, a raised eyebrow, a knowing glance. But, again, no one spoke, no one moved. Glinda’s heart started to race, her thoughts tumbling over each other as her face flushed with heat. She tried to recover, but the silence thickened around them.

“Is this supposed to be news to us?” Pfannee said with a smirk, one eyebrow raised, leaning back in her seat with a knowing glint in her eyes. Glinda’s eyes darted around the table again, landing on Nessa whose hand covered her mouth, barely containing her laughter.

“Well, I—” Glinda’s voice faltered.

“Did you really think we couldn’t tell?” Fiyero asked, his tone light but edged with amusement, a chuckle bubbling up at the edge of his words.

And, then, the reactions Glinda was looking for finally poured in.

“You’ve been all over each other for months!” Avaric exclaimed, leaning over to Milla with a grin, who nodded in agreement.

“You really thought no one knew?” Milla added.

“We thought you were trying not to be too affectionate in public.” Shenshen joined in, shaking her head with a smirk.

Glinda’s eyes widened slightly as she took in everyone’s words. Her cheeks flushed pink, matching the shade of embarrassment she’d been trying to avoid. She sank slowly back into her seat, feeling suddenly small. She glanced at Elphaba, whose face was faintly flushed, her eyes unreadable, a little amused, but mostly just… unfazed.

Then, Elphaba leaned in, the corner of her mouth twitching upward as she nuzzled her cheek against Glinda’s neck. She chuckled softly, a low, warm sound that made Glinda’s chest spark with warmth. Glinda found herself laughing too, the tension easing as the moment morphed into something softer.

“Well,” Glinda said, almost sheepish, glancing back at the table. “I was hoping for more applause. A little drama. Maybe some confetti?” Elphaba grinned, the slight curve of her lips a silent, affectionate response as her fingers brushed Glinda’s.

Then, almost as if on cue, Fiyero gave a dramatic sigh before standing up with Avaric. They both made their way to the bar, and after a few moments, they returned with drinks in hand, setting them down on the table with a flourish. Fiyero held his glass high, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“To Glinda and Elphaba,” he said, his voice laced with exaggerated enthusiasm. “May your love be as bold as your public displays of affection… and just as impossible to ignore!” Glinda’s cheeks flushed again, but she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. Avaric, who was leaning casually against the back of his chair, raised his own glass.

“To the couple that can’t keep their hands to themselves for more than five minutes!” He gave Glinda a wink, then clinked his glass against Fiyero’s.

“To true love,” Nessa said softly, her eyes warm and genuine as they met Glinda’s and Elphaba’s. Glinda’s breath hitched slightly, her heart fluttering unexpectedly in her chest. She shifted in her seat, flicking a quick glance at Elphaba, feeling the weight of unspoken truths between them. Something soft bloomed in her chest, making her bite her lip, and an almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Elphaba’s fingers brushed Glinda’s under the table, the quiet gesture grounding Glinda in the moment, in the realness of everything.

“And to the two of you,” Shenshen added.  “Who somehow make it look like the most natural thing in the world.”

“You two balance each other so well. It’s kind of beautiful, in a ‘don’t make us all jealous’ way.” Pfannee said.

Glinda’s smile softened, her heart swelling with warmth at the comments. She glanced around the table, catching the approving glances of her friends. They had always been a little too invested in her life, but this, this felt different. She exchanged a look with Elphaba, their eyes locking for a fleeting moment, filled with a tenderness that made her chest ache in the best way possible

Her mind drifted, the laughter and chatter around the table becoming a dull hum as she thought about what it would be like with Elphaba—their future, full of little moments. A small laugh bubbled up in her throat as she imagined taking Elphaba to meet her family, introducing her to all the strange quirks and traditions that made Glinda’s world what it was. Or maybe spending lazy summers by the lake, the two of them stretched out on the grass with the sun warming their skin, their fingers intertwined. There was so much to look forward to, so much she hadn’t even told Elphaba she was imagining. The simple things, the quiet moments. Her heart fluttered again, and she stole a quick glance at Elphaba, already picturing what their life could be like, if only—

A soft smile tugged at her lips. She couldn’t help it. She was already planning it all out in her head, dreaming of the future they’d build together, even if it was just in the smallest of details. She leaned close to Elphaba.

“Maybe we can go to Lake Chorge this summer,” she whispered, her voice playful, but laced with hope. “I think I’d like that.” Elphaba’s lips curved upward, her gaze softening as she leaned in closer, brushing her cheek against Glinda’s hair.

“Anything for you, my sweet,” she murmured with a quiet, tender sincerity.

Her words settled between them, warm and intimate, a simple promise. Glinda’s heart fluttered, and without thinking, she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Elphaba’s cheek. She nuzzled closer, her fingers lightly tracing Elphaba’s wrist as though pulling herself a little deeper into the moment.

The evening was winding down, and the group was starting to gather their things. Fiyero and Avaric were chatting near the door, already talking about their next stop, while Shenshen, Pfannee, and Milla shuffled slowly toward them. Glinda glanced around, a content smile on her lips.

“Are you ready?” Elphaba asked, her voice soft, warm. She leaned against the table, watching Glinda with an affectionate smile. Glinda hummed in response, and they rose.

“Actually,” Glinda said with a small laugh. “I need to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Elphaba said, her gaze lingering as Glinda walked away.

As she rounded the corner toward the bathroom, she looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Nessa next to Elphaba. Nessa was holding out an envelope to her, her fingers brushing Elphaba’s as they exchanged a few quiet words. Glinda waved them both off casually, her heart still floating on air as she slipped into the restroom.

The bathroom was quiet, the lively hum of the bar muffled by the door. Glinda took a moment to freshen up, glancing at her reflection with a smile. For a moment, her thoughts lingered again to the future ahead of her and Elphaba, the perfect simplicity of it all.

When she returned a few minutes later, her thoughts were still blissfully occupied with the idea of summer and all the plans she was making in her head. But when she stepped back into the main room, everything shifted.

Elphaba was standing by the table, her back slightly stiff, her face drained of color. She was holding a piece of paper in her hands, clutching tightly, her knuckles white. Glinda’s heart skipped in her chest, unease creeping in. She glanced around, the atmosphere around Elphaba feeling… wrong.

“Elphaba?” Glinda called softly, walking toward her. The tone of her voice held an uncertainty she couldn’t quite mask.

Elphaba didn’t look up immediately, her eyes fixed on the letter in her hands. Her shoulders were tense, and Glinda noticed the slight tremble to her fingers.

“Elphie?” Glinda repeated, concern lacing her voice. “What’s wrong?”

Elphaba took a breath, one that shuddered on the way out. Her lips parted as if she meant to speak, but no sound came. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, and tried again.

“I…” Her voice broke. She paused, exhaling unsteadily before she could force the words out. “I don’t—” She stopped again, her fingers tightening around the letter. Glinda’s heart tightened. Without thinking, she reached for her, cupping Elphaba’s face gently in her hands, trying to anchor her.

“Elphaba, what is it?” she asked softly, her voice filled with quiet urgency.

Elphaba’s lips trembled as her eyes welled up, and a cold wave of panic settled over Glinda. This wasn’t like Elphaba. She was the strong one, the one who held everything together. Seeing her like this, unraveling right in front of Glinda, felt deeply wrong.

 Elphaba looked away, her gaze shifting past Glinda somewhere distant, her jaw tightening. Glinda’s hands fell from Elphaba’s face, falling uselessly to her sides, the sudden distance cutting deep.

“My father,” Elphaba whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s arranged a marriage.” Elphaba’s eyes met hers, dark and full of confusion and raw emotion that Glinda had never seen before. “For me.”

There was a pause, and Glinda felt her breath catch like a stitch in her ribs. She swayed on her feet, unsteady, the room seeming to tilt beneath her.

A could ache swept through her chest. The words tore through her like a book ripped in half—the pages of her carefully written future scattered to the wind, flying too quickly for her to catch. Her hand instinctively reached for Elphaba’s arm, grasping at something solid, something certain.

“I don’t know what to do.” Elphaba spoke in a voice that barely carried past the silence between them, her words shattering what little was left of the warmth and contentment from earlier in the evening.

The weight of her words hung between them, suffocating them. Glinda’s chest felt too tight to breathe. The noise of the pub, the laughter, the clinking of glasses, faded away, leaving a stark silence that felt as though the whole room had collapsed around them.

And all Glinda could do was watch as her world—everything she wanted—shattered right before her.

Chapter Text

Elphaba’s eyes followed Glinda as she paced the length of their room, back and forth, back and forth, her movements sharp and restless. Her slippers barely lifted from the floor, whispering against the wood with each step. Elphaba’s leg bounced where she sat on the edge of the bed, her knee jerking up and down in a frantic rhythm. She pressed her hand down on it, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks, but as soon as she let go, it started again. She clenched fist instead, nails biting into her palm.

Glinda turned at the window, pivoting so abruptly that her skirt flared out around her legs. She pushed a loose curl behind her ear, only for it to fall right back out of place.

“What if we were engaged?” she asked.

“No, no, that wouldn’t work.” Elphaba flicked her hand through the air, dismissing the idea before Glinda could finish. “The contract’s already been drawn up. It’s too late for that.” Glinda huffed, a sharp, frustrated breath, then kept pacing. Her slippers scuffed against the floor, faster now, like she was trying to walk the problem into submission.

“What if we tell your father about us?” Glinda asked. “Tell him how much we care for each other?” Elphaba’s stomach twisted. She shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“He won’t care,” she said, her voice quieter now, thinner. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, one hand drumming restlessly against her skin.

“What if we convince your…” Glinda’s steps faltered, her brow furrowing in thought. “Suitor to back out?” Elphaba let out a heavy sigh, dragging her gaze back to Glinda.

“It’s too advantageous of a marriage. A merchant marrying into the eminency hasn’t happened in generations.” Glinda stopped pacing just long enough to whirl around, her eyes wide with sudden inspiration.

“Well, then what if we contact The Wizard?”

“The Wizard isn’t going to care about the marriage customs of some Munchkinlander, Glinda.”

“But you’re not just some Munchkinlander,” Glinda shot back, standing taller now, as if sheer confidence might will her plan into existence. “You’re next in line to be Eminent!” Elphaba’s breath hitched. For a moment, her chest felt too tight, her ribs closing in around her lungs. She dropped her head into her hands and pressed her palms hard against her temples.

“And that’s exactly why this whole situation makes sense,” she groaned into her hands. Her fingers curled against her scalp before she let them fall away. When she finally looked up, her eyes met Glinda’s—weary, pleading. “Politically,” she added, her voice heavy. Glinda let out a frustrated sigh and threw her hands up.

“Fine,” she muttered, spinning back toward the window and resumed her frantic pacing.

Elphaba barely registered it. Her mind had already begun drifting, her thoughts spiraling uncontrollably.

She pictured her father standing in the great hall at Colwen Grounds, his hand on her arm, his fingers like iron digging into her sleeve. His voice echoed in her mind, cool and commanding, as he turned her toward a man she couldn’t quite see. His features blurred and shifted, his face indistinct yet somehow wrong. Faceless. Empty.

The man reached for her hand, his cold fingers curling around hers, clammy against her skin. He said something—meaningless words muffled and warped in her head—and she felt his grip tighten, pulling her closer. His faceless head tilted toward her, like he meant to whisper something in her ear.

Her stomach twisted, a sharp, queasy knot curling beneath her ribs. She swallowed hard, but the sick feeling wouldn’t go away. The faceless man’s hand slid to her arm, his fingers creeping higher, and her breath turned shallow. She could almost feel it, the weight of the hand, the sensation burning beneath her skin.

A loud gasp jolted her back to the present.

“Elphie!” Glinda practically hopped across the floor, her slippers tapping quickly as she rushed forward. She grabbed both of Elphaba’s hands in hers, warm and steady against Elphaba’s cold, clammy skin. “What if we run away together?” she asked, her voice lifting with a flicker of hope. Elphaba’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite anything at all. She turned her face away, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice thin and strained. “It would ruin my family’s reputation, and I can’t do that to Nessa. I can’t make her life any harder than it already is.” Glinda’s hands rose to Elphaba’s face, her fingers warm against her cheeks as she gently turned her back around, their gazes meeting.

“What if you become a nun?” Glinda said, her voice light, too light, like she was trying to coax a laugh out of Elphaba. Any other time, it might have worked, but now, Elphaba’s chest tightened. She let out a long, heavy sigh, one that seemed to drag her entire body down with it.

“And lose you anyway?” Her voice broke on the words. “What’s the point of that?”

The warmth of Glinda’s hands lingered on her face as Elphaba slipped away, crossing the room in a few restless steps. She stopped at the window, pressing her thumb and forefinger hard against the bridge of her nose, her eyes squeezing shut. Her head throbbed, her thoughts spinning too fast to catch. The pressure behind Elphaba’s eyes sharpened, her fingers digging harder against the bridge of her nose. Her thoughts twisted and knotted, unraveling into broken, flickering images.

A faceless man’s hand on her wrist. Too tight. His fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. Her father’s voice, sharp and clipped, you’ll be grateful someday. The scratch of parchment as signatures sealed her fate. A wedding band sliding over her knuckle—cold metal, too heavy, suffocating. The faceless man’s arm around her waist, pulling her close. His breath at her ear, words she can’t make out.

 Her stomach churned.

“Stop,” Elphaba muttered under her breath, pressing her fingers harder into her skin, as if she could crush the thoughts away.

“We could—” Glinda’s voice cut through, bright and eager.

“No.” The word snapped from Elphaba’s mouth before she could stop herself. Her hand dropped from her face, her fingers curling into a fist at her side. She spun away from the window, her pulse hammering behind her ribs. “We can’t all get whatever we want, whenever we want it!” The words came out sharp and jagged, as if something had been torn loose inside her. It was too much, too harsh, but she couldn’t stop. “This isn’t your problem to fix, so just stop. Please.”

Glinda stilled, her expression faltering as if she’d just been slapped. Her arms hung stiff at her sides, her chest rising with a shaky breath. Elphaba pressed a hand to her throat, her fingers dragging lightly over her skin as if she could rub away the tight, aching knot there.

Glinda’s gaze lingered on her—wide and glassy—until her eyes shone with unshed tears.

“Well then,” Glinda said, her voice thin and stretched tight. She smoothed her blouse with trembling fingers, like she was trying to pull herself back together. “Seeing as you don’t need my help…” Her breath hitched. “I’ll just leave you be.”

She turned and walked out, her steps quick and unsteady. The door clicked shut behind her, quiet, but somehow deafening.

Elphaba drifted back to her bed, her steps slow and heavy. She sank down onto the mattress, her legs folding beneath her. The room felt too quiet, the kind that pressed in from all sides, swallowing everything whole.

Her leg, so restless before, lay still now, as if all that frantic energy had drained right out of her. She dragged her hand across her face and paused. Salt lingered on her lips. Confused, she touched her fingers to her mouth and then up her cheek. Her skin was damp.

She stared at her hand for a moment, as if it belonged to someone else. Her fingers curled into a fist, and she pressed it hard against her mouth to steady her breathing.

She shouldn’t have snapped; she knew that, but somehow, she always managed to say the wrong thing. To ruin what mattered most.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe this was how it had to be—Glinda safe and far away from her mess of a life.

But Glinda’s wide, wounded eyes lingered in her mind, and the crack in her voice rang sharply in her ears.

The silence pressed closer, and Elphaba swallowed hard, forcing it all back down. She lay back against the pillows, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room felt colder, somehow, emptier. She kept listening for footsteps in the hallway, for the soft creak of their door. For Glinda.

But the door never opened.

Her thoughts tangled and twisted, replaying everything she had said, everything she shouldn’t have said. She could still see the look on Glinda’s face, hear the tremble in her voice. Elphaba turned onto her side, curling in on herself. Maybe Glinda just needed time, or maybe this was it. Maybe she had finally ruined things for good.

Her eyes burned, but she squeezed them shut, willing her mind to quiet.

Eventually, her thoughts blurred at the edges, and the weight of exhaustion dragged her under.

Glinda’s absence lingered in the silence, even as sleep took her.

Elphaba woke with a sharp breath, disoriented in the soft light of the early morning. The heavy silence in the room and the lack of the usual warmth beside her made her heart drop. She blinked and lay still for a moment, half expecting to hear Glinda’s soft voice or the rustle of sheets as she stirred across from her. But there was nothing. No quiet hum of conversation, no flicker of movement in the bed across from hers. Glinda hadn’t come back.

Elphaba’s stomach twisted, a dull ache creeping up her throat. She pushed herself into a sitting position, her body stiff and sore from the emotional weight of last night. The words they had exchanged played on a loop in her mind, and her throat tightened, raw with the memory. I should have stopped. I should have—

She pushed the thought away, desperate to move. She got to her feet, her legs wobbling, unsteady from the emotional toll. She stepped quietly toward the window, her feet making barely a sound on the floorboards. Her gaze drifted to Glinda’s side of the room. The bed was made, the space undisturbed, just as it had been the night before. It looked so… empty.

Her chest tightened, and her stomach churned. The absence of Glinda, the stillness of the room, sank deep into her gut, like a rock thrown into a lake. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but the wide expanse of space between them.

I pushed her away.

Her breath caught as the weight of that truth hit her fully. Glinda hadn’t come back. A heavy, suffocating weight settled in her chest, and she stood there, rooted to the spot. She didn’t know how long she stood like that, staring at the empty bed, the silence pressing in, too thick to escape.

A soft, rhythmic knock at the door sliced through the quiet.

Her heart skipped in her chest, and for a moment she thought—hoped—it might be Glinda. She shot up from the chair, her breath quickening, and nearly stumbled as she rushed to the door.

She wrenched it open, a fleeting burst of relief filling her chest, only to deflate as Nessa rolled into the room.

“You’re late,” Nessa teased, a slight smirk on her face as she pushed herself inside, her eyes scanning the room with a casual glance.

Elphaba froze for a moment, her chest tight as her mind scrambled. Late? She blinked, then she remembered she had promised to meet Nessa for breakfast the night before.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath. “I completely forgot.”

Nessa didn’t respond right away, her gaze flicked around the room as she rolled further inside, taking in the quiet space. Her eyes lingered on the empty bed across from Elphaba’s and the untouched pillow on Glinda’s bed. Slowly, her gaze returned to Elphaba, and she tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing.

“Where’s Glinda?” The question was casual, but there was an edge to it, as if she was already sensing the distance between them.

Elphaba’s stomach clenched, and she suddenly felt the weight of the room pressing down on her. She sighed deeply, then ran a hand through her hair. The silence between them stretched until she gave in and sank onto the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped.

“Do you remember the letter you gave me last night at the Peach and Kidneys?” Elphaba asked quietly. Nessa nodded, her eyes never leaving Elphaba’s.

Elphaba swallowed, trying to push back the sudden wave of exhaustion. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and began explaining without looking up. The words spilled out in fragments, the weight of them nearly too much to hold.

She told Nessa about the engagement her father arranged, about the merchant’s son from Glikkus, about how she had only found out the night before. She described her argument with Glinda, and how her words had cut deep. How in the end, Glinda had stormed off.

“And she didn’t come back last night,” Elphaba concluded, her voice dropping to a whisper. She shrugged, a weak, dismissive motion that couldn’t hide the hurt. “I don’t know what to do.”

Nessa sat in silence, her gaze unwavering as she absorbed Elphaba’s words. The room was suffocating in its quietness, and Elphaba’s heartbeat echoed in her ears. Nessa didn’t rush to speak, instead she just stared at Elphaba.

After what felt like a small eternity, Nessa let out a soft breath.

“I’m sorry, Elphaba. I had no idea. Father didn’t tell me anything about this. I didn’t… I didn’t know.” Her voice was soft, filled with a touch of regret. Elphaba closed her eyes, a sharp ache prickling behind them, and shook her head gently.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, the words heavy in her mouth.

Silence stretched between them again before Nessa finally spoke again, her voice stronger this time.

“You don’t have to do what he says, Elphaba. You can refuse. You have a choice.”

The words hit Elphaba like a jolt, and for a fleeting moment, a spark of hope flared in her chest. But then, immediately, a familiar weight pressed down on her. Glinda’s words echoed in her mind, she had said something similar the night before. Elphaba’s stomach twisted as guilt gnawed at her gut. Glinda, who only wanted to help, who had only been looking after, and Elphaba had lashed out at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to speak.

“I can’t just refuse,” she said, lowering her eyes to her hands and wringing them together as she spoke. “I can’t ruin our family’s reputation. I can’t make your life harder, I won’t do that to you.”

Elphaba’s words hung in the air, the weight of them thick. The silence stretched, each moment adding another layer of heaviness to the room. Nessa was quiet for a long while, her gaze softening as she seemed to process Elphaba’s burden. Then, she reached out, her hand gently touching Elphaba’s arm. The warmth of her touch was grounding, a reminder she wasn’t alone.

“Then what are you going to do?” Nessa asked softly, her voice quiet but filled with care.

Elphaba’s breath hitched in her chest, the question a sharp tug on her gut. She opened her mouth, but the words felt foreign, tangled in her throat. What could she do? Her thoughts flickered back to the last time she saw Glinda, to the way her eyes had looked as she stormed off, the bitter sting of the things Elphaba had said. The thought of not having Glinda felt like an empty void.

“I…” Elphaba started, her voice breaking for a moment. She pulled in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, her mind slowly catching up with her emotions. “I need to apologize to Glinda. I can’t keep doing this without knowing whether I still have her or not.”

The realization hit her like a brick. She couldn’t keep going without making things right with Glinda. She needed to clear the air with her before she could keep moving forward. She looked at Nessa, meeting her gaze with a soft, steady resolve.

“I need to fix that before I can do anything else.”

“I know you’ll figure this out, Elphaba. You always do.” Nessa gave her a small, understanding smile.

Elphaba’s lips curled, fleeting and bittersweet. She appreciated her sister’s faith, even if she wasn’t sure she deserved it. With one last glance at Nessa, Elphaba stood, her shoulders squared with a newfound determination. She stepped toward the door, but before leaving turned back, meeting Nessa’s gaze.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Nessa only nodded, the quiet warmth of her presence enough to steady Elphaba for what was ahead. She took a deep breath, then turned and left the room, the weight of the next few hours hanging heavily on her. For now, though, she knew what she had to do.

Elphaba leaned against the trunk of a tree, arms crossed, barely aware of the breeze stirring the leaves above her. Across the courtyard, Glinda stood with Pfannee and Shenshen, her golden curls pinned back, and the hem of her yellow dress lifting slightly in the wind.

Elphaba’s fingers tightened around her arms. She should apologize. She hadn’t meant to lash out, not at Glinda. But the weight of it all, the way her life had shifted in an instant, the word engaged pressing against her like a vice… she had let it spill over, sharp and careless. And now Glinda was over there, smiling like nothing had happened.

At least that’s how it looked at first. Glinda laughed, gesturing as she spoke, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. But then, for the briefest moment, her gaze flickered toward Elphaba.

And there it was.

A flicker, a hesitation, a brief slip in her expression before she turned back to her friends. The moment passed, her laugh resuming as if it had never faltered.

Elphaba pushed off the tree. She had to fix this.

“Glinda,” she said as she approached.

Glinda turned, her movements careful and controlled. Pfannee and Shenshen quieted beside her. Her eyes, usually so bright, carried a weight that Elphaba wasn’t used to seeing. She met Elphaba’s gaze for half a second before looking away, her fingers brushing the fabric of her dress as if grounding herself.

“I…”

“Not now, Elphie.” The words were soft, nearly swallowed by the wind. Glinda’s voice wavered, just barely, before she steadied herself. She lifted her chin, stealing one last glance at Elphaba, her eyes glassy and unreadable, before turning away.

And just like that, the door closed.

Elphaba stood there, the words settling over her like a thick fog, blurring everything around her. Not now, Elphie. Not cruel. Not cold. Just final.

Her jaw tightened. Her throat burned. She swallowed hard, but it did nothing to ease the ache rising in her chest. Her fingers curled against her collarbone before she forced them down, dropping her hand as if the feeling could be shaken off.

She turned and walked away.

Her whole life, her father had dictated every step she took. Where she went. What she did. Who she was allowed to be. And for the first time, she had something for herself, something he had no hand in shaping, no right to take.

She had let herself believe that Shiz was her escape. That his grip had loosened the moment she stepped through its gates. That she was free.

How foolish.

His control had never slipped, it had only shifted, waiting for the right moment to tighten around her throat once more. And now, with a single letter, he had reminded her exactly where she stood.

The thought sent heat clawing up her spine. No. No. She had been letting him control her life for far too long, and she would not let him take her future.

Each step against the cobblestone struck harder, faster.

By the time she reached her dorm, her mind was made up. She was going home.

She was going to end this.

Elphaba tore into her dorm room, moving in a blur, as if everything in her life could be packed into a single bag. She wrenched open the first drawer of her dresser, clothes spilling out in her haste. A sock—no, a shirt—tangled in her fingers. She shoved it into her bag without thinking, moving on to the next drawer, the next item, her heart pounding with each frantic movement.

She grabbed a jacket. She grabbed a pair of shoes. She wasn’t sure if they were even hers, but they were now. She couldn’t remember what she’d already packed, and she didn’t care. She just kept moving, shoving her things into the bag as fast as her hands could grab them, her mind running faster than she could keep up with.

There was no time to think, no time to even breathe.

Then her eyes darted to the desk, where a book lay open, the one she had been studying for class. She had forgotten until now. Her semester tests.

Her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the book, suddenly aware of its weight, the weight of everything else she was leaving behind. The tests she was supposed to take, the future she had carefully planned for… the Elphaba who did everything right, the one who followed the rules.

Maybe she should stay. Maybe this whole thing was pointless. She kicked her bag across the floor, half-open. She could stop. She should stop. She should follow the rules. Finish her tests. Find a way out of the marriage. Then maybe, just maybe, things would fix themselves if she did it the right way.

Her gaze flicked to Glinda’s side of the room, and her stomach twisted. The neatness of it, the way everything was so orderly, untouched, waiting. The pillow on Glinda’s side of the bed, the delicate way it sat, as if Glinda would return at any moment.

Elphaba’s breath hitched.

No. No more.

She grabbed her bag, shoving a jacket into it without care. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed anything that might be useful—quills, books, a half-empty jar of ink—her hands moving faster than she could think. The bag grew heavier, stuffed with things she didn’t even need.

Her gaze flicked back to Glinda’s side of the room, the image of her slicing through Elphaba’s thoughts. The absence of her was a hollow ache, too sharp to ignore.

She reached for a quill, grabbed a scrap of parchment, her hand already moving before she could think.

Glinda,

I’m sorry for hurting you. I wish things could be different.

I’ve decided to go home. I can’t stay here and let this continue. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find a way. I’ll speak to my father, and I’ll make him end the arrangement. It’s the only option left that makes sense.

I hope you can understand.

Elphaba sat still for a moment, her will hovering just above the page. She thought about the words she wanted to write, the ones that had been pressing against her chest for so long. Her hand moved, the quill scratching softly at the parchment, but then she stopped. Her fingers tightened around the quill as she stared at what she’d written, and with a sharp motion, she scratched it out.

She exhaled slowly, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn’t quite form into the right words. She started again, the quill moving with more care this time. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close. She paused, her heart thudding in her chest before she continued writing. The lines flowed a little more easily now, her hand moving with more certainty.

When she finished, she set the quill down, her eyes lingering on the page for a moment before she quickly folded the letter, hands trembling slightly.

Elphaba stood up, clutching her bag, the leather strap digging into her fingers. She glanced at the letter one last time, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel its weight, the weight of everything she was leaving behind pressing down on her.

She turned toward the door but hesitated, her gaze flicking back to the room, to the neatness of Glinda’s side. The pillow still rested there, untouched, the soft glow of sunlight spilling over it. Everything was so still, so quiet. She felt a pang deep in her chest, a sense of finality, as if she were closing a door she might never be able to open again.

Her breath caught. She lingered a moment longer, unwilling to let go.

With a final, quiet sigh, Elphaba turned and left.

Chapter Text

The clatter of forks on porcelain, the low hum of a hundred overlapping conversations, it all pressed in around Glinda like a weighted veil. Distant. Unreachable. Like she was underwater. She sat at the end of the long dining table, nodding at something Pfannee had just said, though she hadn’t heard a word of it. Her smile was automatic, small and tight at the corners. The warmth of the room, the flicker of the candlelight reflecting off silver dishes, the smell of spiced carrots and bread pudding all blurred together. It was too much and not enough all at the same time. Her hands rested motionless beside her plate. She hadn’t touched her food.

Elphaba wasn’t at dinner.

Elphaba hadn’t been anywhere. Not since that moment in the courtyard.

Glinda shifted in her seat, crossing her ankles, then uncrossing them. Her fingers smoothed her napkin once, twice, then folded it neatly, only to unfold it again a breath later. She kept her gaze on her lap, as if the cotton square might offer some kind of answer.

Everything had happened so quickly, the distance suddenly stretching between them like a chasm. Glinda had only wanted to help, to fix it somehow, but Elphaba had lashed out, sharp and biting. And maybe Glinda should’ve known it wasn’t really meant for her. Maybe she had known. But it still hurt.

So, she’d walked away.

She’d just needed… time. To think. To breathe. To keep herself from falling apart entirely.

Then today, that moment in the courtyard, Elphaba’s voice behind her, soft with something that sounded dangerously close to an apology.

Not now, she’d told her.

She hadn’t meant never.

But Elphaba had looked at her like she’d been struck—not angry, not even surprised—just quietly wounded, like she’d been expecting it all along.

And now Glinda didn’t know what to do.

She swallowed, the knot in her throat thick and unyielding. The image wouldn’t leave her: the way Elphaba had approached, hesitating just enough to show she wasn’t sure of herself, the way she’d said her name. And Glinda had closed the door on her.

Not cruel. Not unkind. But final all the same.

She tucked a curl behind her ear and glanced toward the doors, even though she knew they wouldn’t open. Not this late into dinner. Not now.

Not now.

The words echoed unpleasantly.

The fork Pfannee was holding slipped from her fingers with a clang, drawing a burst of laughter from the table. Glinda flinched, her gaze snapping up. Pfannee was laughing, and Shenshen was saying something with a grin, the sound of it all felt too sharp, too bright.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Shenshen said, nudging Glinda with her elbow. “Having Elphaba as a study partner.”

The name hit her like a stone to her chest. Glinda blinked.

“What?”

“I said you’ve got it easy,” Shenshen rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Elphaba probably dreams about schoolwork.”

“Oh,” Glinda said, her voice thin and quiet. “Yes. I suppose she does.”

She looked toward the door once more, waiting for something she knew wasn’t coming.

And suddenly, the room felt unbearable. The laughter, the silverware, the hum of voices all went distant again. Like she’d been dropped back beneath the surface of a lake.

She needed to find her. To apologize. To explain. To say something, anything, before the silence between them became permanent.

Glinda stood abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping against the tile. She muttered a soft “Excuse me,” and didn’t wait for a reply before stepping away from the table. The dining hall spun behind her, the noise swelling and then falling away as the doors swung shut.

She didn’t know where Elphaba would be, but she knew where to start looking.

Glinda walked quickly, her heels clicking against the stone as she left the dining hall behind. The corridor seemed to stretch longer than usual, shadows thickening at the edges in a way that made her feel both exposed and terribly alone.

The closer she got to the library, the tighter her chest became, as though her ribs were drawing in around her heart, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her mind spun in circles, flitting between different apologies, none of them right, none of them enough. What could she say?

I’m sorry you snapped at me? I’m sorry I didn’t understand?

No, no that wasn’t fair. She had understood. She just didn’t know what to do with it. The helplessness, the fear, the weight of everything Elphaba carried, and now, this marriage. This awful, impossible marriage.

Her throat constricted. She tried to swallow, but it felt like swallowing glass. Her breath hitched, sharp and shallow.

Her steps quickened.

The library loomed ahead, dark behind its tall windows, save for the low flicker of a few lamps. Her footsteps were louder now, each one echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness, the sound amplified by the pressure building in her chest. She pushed the doors open, the cool air inside only deepening the weight pressing against her lungs.

The silence inside was thick, as if the space was holding its breath. Glinda moved between the aisles with slow, deliberate steps, each movement dragging like she was wading through water. Every soft rustle of her dress, the faintest shuffle of her shoes, seemed too loud. The familiar path to their corner drew her like a tether. How many hours had they sat there, side by side in quiet companionship? How many times had she glanced up from her notes to find Elphaba already looking at her, her expression unreadable but eyes impossibly bright?

Please be here. Please let me say I’m sorry.

Then, a light. A small pool of it spilling across the floor just ahead, a flicker in the darkness that steadied her pulse for the first time since she’d left the dining hall.

“Elphie?” she called softly, a smile breaking over her face as relief flooded through her.

But when she rounded the corner, it wasn’t her. The light didn’t belong to Elphaba. It was a first-year student, hunched over a book, who startled when Glinda’s voice broke the quiet.

“Oh.” Glinda’s breath caught in her throat, her smile vanishing just as quickly as it had come. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

Glinda moved through the library again, just in case. Then, the hallway outside. The courtyard. Every corner, every shadow, every empty space that might hold Elphaba, and yet… nothing.

The silence of it all pressed in on her, filling her chest with a heaviness that she couldn’t shake. Her feet took her forward, but her mind was far away, caught in a loop of words she couldn’t say. She didn’t know where to go, didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t stop looking. Not yet.

Her throat tightened again, and her breath came short.

Finally, with a sinking feeling, she turned toward their dorm, the last place she could think to look. Maybe Elphaba had gone back, maybe she was sitting there, waiting for Glinda. She shook her head at the thought. Waiting wasn’t something Elphaba did.

When Glinda reached the door to their room, her stomach dropped. The quiet felt wrong, empty. She hesitated just long enough to steady herself, then pushed the door open.

“Elphaba?” Her voice cracked, too soft, uncertain as she stepped inside.

But something was immediately off.

Elphaba’s side of the room was a mess. Her clothes were strewn across the bed, a scattering of shoes by the door, a chair knocked askew. The chaos felt like a reflection of everything that had happened. Glinda’s heart gave a sharp pang.

Her feet faltered as she took in the scene, and before she could stop herself, the name slipped from her lips again.

“Elphaba?”

It felt wrong, like she was calling for someone who had already slipped away.

Glinda choked back a sob, her chest tight, but the sound was barely there, swallowed before it could escape. The mess in the room pressed down on her, and she couldn’t leave it like this. She couldn’t stand the chaos, couldn’t stand to see Elphaba’s things scattered like she’d just disappeared.

With shaking hands, Glinda began to fold the clothes lying on the bed, smoothing out each wrinkle as if putting order back into the world. She fixed the chair, her fingers brushing the fabric of Elphaba’s coat, carefully draping it across the back. She made the bed, tucking the sheets as if trying to put things right, even if she couldn’t fix what had broken between them.

But no matter how much she tried to steady the room, nothing felt right anymore. The weight of it all, the silence, the loss, the words left unsaid—it all crashed over her like a wave. It was too much. Too much for her heart to bear.

She swayed for a moment, reaching out to steady herself on Elphaba’s side of the room. Her breath came shallow, her hands trembling as she took a step back, barely able to stand under the weight of it.

And then she saw it.

A piece of paper, folded neatly, on Glinda’s bed.

Her heart stopped, then thundered against her ribs, an erratic beat that filled her chest with an aching hunger. She hadn’t noticed it before, hadn’t seen it through the haze of panic and regret that had clouded everything.

The distance between her and the letter felt impossible, like a vast chasm stretching wide in front of her. But she couldn’t slow down, not now, not when the sight of it was all she could focus on.

She rushed to it, her hands trembling as she grabbed it, fingers shaking so violently she could barely hold on to the paper. The folds of it were too crisp, the edges too sharp, but she didn’t care. She ripped it open, desperate for any scrap of Elphaba’s words, anything that might tell her what was going on, what she needed to fix.

Glinda,

I’m sorry for hurting you. I wish things could be different.

I’ve decided to go home. I can’t stay here and let this continue. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find a way. I’ll speak to my father, and I’ll make him end the arrangement. It’s the only option left that makes sense.

I hope you can understand.

Glinda’s eyes skimmed downward, her heart catching when she noticed a few lines scratched through with so much force the paper was slightly torn. A few letters were still visible, an I… maybe a t, but the rest was lost beneath dark ink and frustration. Her breath hitched. Whatever it had been, Elphaba hadn’t wanted her to see it.

She read on.

I’ve been trying to think of what to say to you, trying to explain everything I feel. You’ve always been better at that, at saying things. Affection spills out of you like it’s nothing. I used to think it was just words, but it’s not. It’s you.

The truth is everything is better with you in it. You make things easier. Lighter. Even when they shouldn’t be.

I don’t know how to say this properly, or if I even should, but when I think about the future, I can’t imagine it without you. It feels wrong. Like the air in my lungs is being sucked right out of me.

I don’t know if this will work. I don’t know what’s waiting for me at home or if I’ll even get the chance to change anything at all, but I have to try. And I’ll find my way back to you, I promise.

So please, hold out, if you can.

 Hold out, my sweet.

A tear slipped down Glinda’s cheek before she even realized she was crying.

It landed on the paper, the ink smudging at the corner as she clutched it to her chest, the other hand pressed hard over her heart, as if she could hold it together by force alone. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she sank onto the edge of her bed, shoulders curled in, the letter still gripped tightly in her shaking hands.

She sat there for a long moment, eyes closed, letting the silence press in around her. Everything inside her ached. Her heart felt too full and too empty at the same time, tight and hollow, as though the air had been sucked out of her.

Oz, she missed her. And she’d only just left.

What she wouldn’t give to have Elphaba in her arms right now, to hold her close and tell her everything would be okay. How was it possible to feel someone’s absence so sharply, like a blade pressed against her ribs?

She read the letter again. And then again, slower this time, her eyes tracing over every word, willing them to stay, to hold her up, to anchor her.

Elphaba had written this in a rush, Glinda could tell. There was so much left unsaid. So much emotion bleeding between the lines. It wasn’t final.

It couldn’t be.

She pressed the paper to her chest again, drawing in a breath that shuddered through her whole body.

No. Elphaba wasn’t doing this alone.

Glinda stood slowly, the letter still held to her chest. Her limbs trembled, but her steps were steady as she crossed the room. She grabbed her bag, her eyes still wet, her jaw set with quiet resolve.

If there was any way to help her, any way at all, Glinda would find it.

Then she left, the door clicking shut softly behind her.

A soft chuckle stirred Glinda from sleep. She blinked blearily, squinting against the morning light filtering through the high windows of the library. Her cheek rested against an open book, one of many stacked haphazardly around her on the long reading table. Munchkinland history, culture, customs… the titles blurred together in a mess of cracked spines and notes scribbled on scraps of paper.

“Well,” Nessa said, wheeling up beside her. “Someone’s taking last-minute cramming to a whole new level.” Glinda jolted upright.

“What—oh—” her head spun. Her neck ached from the angle she’d slept in, and she rubbed it absently with one hand as she looked around, bleary-eyed and disoriented. Something felt off. Something was missing.

And then it hit her. Finals.

“Oh no,” she breathed. “Finals.” Nessa raised a brow, still smiling.

“You forgot about finals? Glinda, how—” she trailed off, her smile faltering as she caught sight of the books Glinda had surrounded herself with. Her gaze drifted across the titles: Noble Traditions of Eastern Oz and Ceremonial Law in Early Munchkinland. “Wait. What are you doing?” Glinda hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of one of the books. Her eyes flicked toward Nessa.

“Have you… talked to Elphaba lately?”

“Not since yesterday morning,” Nessa wheeled a litter closer, her brows drawing together. “Why?” Glinda looked up, searching her face.

“Do you know about…” She lowered her voice and leaned in a little, glancing around the empty rows of shelves. “The marriage?” Nessa’s gaze dropped. She paused for a moment, then nodded, quietly.

“Yes, she told me. I didn’t know if I should bring it up.” She reached out, placing a gentle hand on Glinda’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. I just wasn’t sure how much you knew.” Glinda offered a small, grateful smile. Nessa glanced at the mountain of books around Glinda. She gestured faintly to the mess.

“Is that why you’re in here? All of this?”

“She’s gone,” Glinda said quietly. “She left last night. I found a letter when I got back to our room.”

“She what?” Nessa’s head snapped toward her, her voice rising in shock.

“She went home. She’s going to try and stop it on her own.” Glinda said, her throat tightening. Nessa sank back in her chair, exhaling hard. Her hand rose to her temple, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Stars above… she really doesn’t think through, does she?”

“No,” Glinda let out a short, exhausted laugh, tipping her head to the side as if she wasn’t sure whether to cry or agree. “She really doesn’t.”

They shared a look, exasperation and affection tangled together, and the briefest trace of a smile passed between them before fading. Glinda sighed and ran both hands down her face. Then she motioned to the mess around her.

“I’m trying to figure something out,” she said. Her fingers skimmed vaguely over an open book before dropping into her lap. “I thought maybe there’d be something in the old laws, or customs, or… I don’t know. Something.” She let out a huff, exasperated. “But there’s just so much, and none of it makes any sense, and I don’t even know what I’m looking for—” with a groan, she dropped her forehead onto the table with a dramatic thump. “I’m in over my head,” she mumbled into the wood.

“Well,” Nessa blinked, then tilted her head. “At least you’ve got the flair for a noble cause.” Glinda didn’t lift her head. Just raised a hand and gave a weak wave of acknowledgement.

“And,” she added with a muffled groan. “I still have finals to worry about.” The words hung in the air. Her fingers curled slightly against the tabletop, and a slow breath passed between her lips.

Then something clicked. Her shoulders tensed.

Finals.

Elphaba.

Glinda’s head snapped up.

“Oh, Oz,” she gasped. “Elphie.” She pushed up from the table so fast her chair screeched backward.

“What? What is it?” Nessa asked, startled.

“She’s going to miss her exams,” Glinda said, already gathering her things. “If she’s gone to long—if Morrible finds out, she could be expelled.” Nessa’s eyes widened.

“Glinda—”

“I’ll be back,” she said over her shoulder, already halfway down the aisle. “Just stay here!”

Glinda flew down the corridors, the hem of her skirt blowing as she half-ran, half-stumbled around the corners. Her breath came in uneven bursts, her heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted to outrun her body. Every student she passed became a blur. She barely registered their curious glances or the way her bag kept slapping against her side with each stride.

Her fingers gripped the strap, her knuckles white. Her mind churned, grasping at anything, some explanation, some excuse that would make Elphaba skipping finals okay. If Morrible found out she’d left without permission, she’d use it as an excuse to be rid of her. Glinda couldn’t let that happen. There had to be something she could say to keep her from getting expelled. Every idea came half-formed, brittle, snapping in two the moment she tried to hold onto it.  She turned a corner too quickly and nearly collided with another student.

“Sorry!” she gasped, not slowing.

What could she say? That Elphaba was overwhelmed? That she needed time to think? That she was trying to get out of an arranged marriage? Glinda bit back a laugh, a desperate, hollow thing. None of that would work. Morrible would scoff. She’d call it a stunt, or worse, insubordination.

The truth wouldn’t do. Half-truths wouldn’t do either. She needed something simple. Something sympathetic. Something that would make Morrible pause, if only for a second. Glinda pressed her lips together. Her jaw ached from clenching and her stomach was in knots. Her chest felt too tight, as if it were full of air. She rounded the corner and stopped; Morrible’s door loomed ahead, dark wood and polished brass.

She didn’t knock. Not yet.

Glinda started pacing in the hallway, five steps down, five back. The worn edge of the carpet caught her heel and made her stumble. Her hands flitted up to push hair behind her ears, then twisted together, white knuckled. Her breath came quick and short.

You can’t walk in with nothing. She’ll eat you alive.

She stopped mid-step, her hand flying to her mouth. A noise caught in her throat, half a laugh, half of a sob. This was falling apart already. She should have planned something. She should have thought it through before—

Her stomach twisted.

Family emergency.

Of course.

 Grandfather. Distant. Dignified. Conveniently too ill and too far away to contradict her. She could say it was sudden. Private. Something Elphaba hadn’t wanted to speak of before. That would explain why she vanished. Why she hadn’t told anyone.

It was a lie, but it was the kind Morrible would believe. Respectable. Tragic. Out of Elphaba’s control.

Glinda straightened. Her pulse still raced, but her thoughts were sharp. Clear. Focused. Her hands stilled, her breath slowed.

It was flimsy, but it might be enough.

She smoothed her skirt, stepped forward, and knocked.

The heavy door opened with a creak that echoed far too loudly in the stillness beyond. Morrible’s office was dim and cold despite the heat of early summer. Books lined the walls in tall, looming shelves, and the thick curtains were drawn tight against the windows, letting in only a fraction of daylight. Everything smelled faintly of old paper and perfumed ink. A grandfather clock ticked in the corner with slow, deliberate clicks, each one settling like a weight on Glinda’s chest.

Madame Morrible sat behind a wide mahogany desk, quill in hand, her shoulders squared and still. Her eyes lifted the moment Glinda entered, sharp and unreadable behind her glasses.

“Miss Upland,” she said. Not a question.

Glinda hesitated a fraction too long on the threshold. Her fingers twitched at her sides, resisting the urge to smooth her skirt again. For a moment, her confidence wavered, just a crack, but then she blinked, slowly, and stepped forward.

She drew in a breath as she crossed the room, forcing her shoulders back, her expression arranged into the picture of composed distress. Not frantic, not panicked. Concerned. Vulnerable, but holding it together. The kind of girl who doesn’t want to make a scene, but simply must speak up.

“Madame Morrible,” Glinda said, her voice pitched just slightly higher than usual, her breath catching. She let her voice shake, just a little. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Morrible set the quill down with a quiet tap.

“Well, you have,” she said coolly, folding her hands. “So, I hope it’s for good reason.”

Glinda let her eyes drop for a moment, just a beat, then lifted them again, rimmed with unshed tears. She didn’t force them yet; they would come later, if needed. The threat of them, the glisten, had to be there now.

“It’s—it’s about Elphaba,” she said, choosing the moment her voice caught carefully, letting it falter over the name.

“Go on.” Morrible’s expression didn’t change.

“She left… quickly,” Glinda said, twisting her fingers together as if to steady herself, letting the movement emphasize worry. “There wasn’t time to tell anyone. Her grandfather, he’s very ill. She got word and, well… she didn’t want to risk waiting.”

She paused, swallowed, cast her eyes slightly downward and to the side, not quite able to meet Morrible’s gaze. Not out of shame but worry. A good, dutiful girl caught in the middle of something tragic.

“She didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” Glinda said, carefully measuring the tremble in her tone. “She just panicked. I think she was afraid it might be the last time.”

The words hung in the air like a held breath. She didn’t overplay it. Not yet. Just enough silence to let the weight of the last time to sink in.

Morrible didn’t react at first. Her eyes narrowed, lips drawn into something between a frown and a smirk. It was the kind of look Glinda had seen her give to students she meant to cut down, not with yelling, but with words sharpened like blades.

“And why,” Morrible said slowly, each word deliberate. “Did Miss Thropp not inform the faculty of this sudden emergency herself?”

Glinda felt the question land like a hand at the back of her neck. Her spine stiffened despite herself. She dropped her gaze and allowed her breath to stutter once more. Not too much, just enough to make it believable.

“I know she should have told someone,” Glinda said quietly, as if the admission cost her. “She… she’s not used to—she doesn’t always handle things like this well.” A partial truth, enough to sound real. Glinda let her voice soften as she added, “She was afraid. I think she just… reacted.” Morrible tilted her head, her eyes sharp behind her glasses, her fingers tapping once against her clasped hands.

“She had the presence of mind to pack a bag, yet not to come to me?”

Glinda took a slow breath, twisting her fingers tighter.

“She didn’t want to cause a scene. And she wasn’t sure she’d be allowed to go,” Glinda said, adding just a hint of tremble. Not enough to sound rehearsed, just fragile. Morrible studied her for a long, weighty moment, then shifted forward slightly.

“And what of her sister?” she asked. “Nessarose remains on campus, does she not? One would assume she might also want to visit a dying relative.” Glinda’s stomach clenched. She took the smallest step back, then caught herself and held firm.

“She didn’t think she could make the trip, not on such short notice. The travel’s difficult, and she didn’t want to be a burden—” No. Too cold. Backtrack. “She’s devastated, of course,” Glinda added, adjusting her tone, her eyes. “But she wanted Elphaba to go ahead without her. In the meantime, their father is arranging special accommodations for her to travel safely, but it’ll take a few days before everything’s ready.” She let her voice drip low, full of solemn respect.

Morrible’s expression didn’t shift, but her tapping stopped. Glinda took that as a sign to press forward gently.

“It’s all happening so fast. She didn’t want to be in the way. And Elphaba didn’t want to wait.”

She let the last sentence hang in the air a moment, just long enough to imply urgency, desperation, a fear too big for permission slips and protocols.

Morrible didn’t respond. She only stared. Silent, stony. A long breath slipped through her nose, slow and deliberate, like she was weighing something heavy, or growing tired of being patient.

The sound made Glinda’s throat tighten. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She was going to say no, and Elphaba was going to be punished.

She couldn’t let it end like that.

“She’s one of Shiz’s brightest students,” Glinda said, her voice steadier. “She works harder than anyone I know. Surely that kind of excellence is worth preserving.”

Still no response. Just that unreadable gaze. Glinda lifted her chin, choosing her next words with care.

“If she were at Briscoe, they’d be falling over themselves to keep her. They’d find a way to accommodate her situation. I know Shiz has higher standards, better values. That’s why we’re the best. And you can prove it right now.” She let that hang in the air for a moment, then folded her hands in front of her, composed but earnest. “If you let her take her exams over the summer, as soon as she’s able to return, I’m certain she’d pass. She deserves the chance. And Shiz deserves to have her name on its roster.”

She paused, allowing her words to settle. There was nothing left to say. Glinda stood still, her chin lifted, her expression steady, but her pulse had picked up again. If Morrible didn’t agree, then that was it, she’d failed.

Morrible’s gaze didn’t waver. She studied Glinda for a moment longer, her face unreadable. Then, at last, she spoke.

“Very well.”

For a beat, Glinda wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Relief surged up so quickly it nearly knocked the breath from her lungs, but she kept it hidden behind a carefully measured nod. She couldn’t let it show, couldn’t let the mask slip, not until she was out of the office.

“Do not make me regret this decision, Miss Upland.”

A warning, wrapped in silk. Glinda nodded, perfectly poised.

“You won’t.”

She turned, keeping her shoulders square and her chin high until the door shut behind her. The moment it clicked into place, she exhaled sharply, almost laughing. She rounded the corner, her steps suddenly light, and leaned back against the wall, just out of sight. Her knees bent, and she sank into a crouch, one hand pressed to her chest like she could catch her heart before it took flight.

She’d just gone toe-to-toe with Madame Morrible and won.

A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. This wasn’t just a delay in Elphaba’s exams. It was a piece of the puzzle falling into place, a door held open just long enough to matter. One less thing for Elphaba to worry about.

She let herself stay there for a moment longer, basking in the quiet satisfaction of it. Then she rose, smoothed her skirt, and stepped forward with a new steadiness. Her pace back to the library was slower, but not from exhaustion, just calm. Focused.

When she retuned to her table, she stopped short. Nessa was there, flipping through one of the books Glinda had left open earlier. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she traced a line of text with her finger. Glinda blinked.

“Oh. You’re still here?”

“I’m going to help you find something,” Nessa said, meeting Glinda’s gaze without missing a beat.

The words were simple, matter-of-fact, but they hit Glinda in the chest with an unexpected warmth. Her mouth curved into a soft smile as she pulled out the chair across from Nessa and sank into it, more grateful than she knew how to express.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Nessa gave a little shrug, returning to the page in front of her.

“It’s better than sitting around worrying. Besides, between the two of us, we’re sure to come across something.”

Glinda rested her elbows on the table and leaned in, her eyes scanning the notes she’d left scattered between them. Her heart still beat fast from the encounter with Morrible, but now it pulsed with something steadier—momentum.

They were going to do this.

The next few days passed in a blur of ink-stained fingers, whispered page turns, and the scratch of quills on parchment. Glinda and Nessa kept to the library, tucked away at their table from morning until evening, sometimes later, poring over texts in search of anything that might help Elphaba. They studied in the margins between books, trading theories, and flipping through pages while quizzing each other on test material. Exams came and went, a fog of essay questions and formula sheets that Glinda barely remembered once she set down her last quill. The weight of everything, not just her exams, but Elphaba’s absence, the futility of every lead they’d chased, settled onto her shoulders. Day after day, it began to feel like they were getting nowhere.

Then one night, long past curfew, she spotted something wedged behind a row of forgotten volumes near the back of the library.

It was an old book, leather-bound but cracked and curling at the edges. Someone had discarded it behind a stack of dry legal texts, where it sat untouched, collecting dust.

She pulled it free with both hands and her breath caught. The title was faint but still legible, scrawled in elegant, looping script.

Pursuits of Heart: Trials of Love and Lore in Munchkinland.

Glinda squinted at it, then flipped through the pages, careful not to tear the fragile paper. The text was dense, handwritten in places, and peppered with old footnotes from whoever had studied it before. She turned another page, her eyes scanning quickly, then again, slower this time. And then—

She gasped.

Clutching the book to her chest, she turned sharply and hurried back to their table, where Nessa sat sleepily blinking over a glossary of ceremonial laws. Glinda nearly dropped into her chair, breathless.

“I think,” she began, her voice low but thrilled. “I think I might have something.”

Nessa straightened, instantly alert as Glinda laid the book out between them and flipped back to the page that made her heart leap.

“Listen to this,” Glinda said as she began to read.

It is said that the very first Suitor’s Crawl was not a contest at all, but the drunken flailing of a broken heart. When a Munchkin girl of noble birth was promised to a man she did not love, her true love—a stablehand named Sedrick—set out on what would become a legend. He crawled (quite literally) from pub to pub, drowning his sorrow in ale and weeping so loudly that even the cows in the next town over couldn’t sleep. At the final tavern, he stood (or tried to stand) and challenged the betrothed suitor to a duel in the square.

He collapsed before a sword was even drawn.

The girl’s father, watching from his window, found the whole ordeal so pitiful and sincere that he called off the arrangement and declared that anyone who wished to prove their love should do so through a series of trials, as Sedrick had done in his own sad way.

Thus began the tradition of the Suitor’s Crawl: a set of trials to prove one’s devotion, persistence, wit, and heart. Preferably with fewer tears and more standing upright.

“This is it,” Glinda aid, eyes wide. Her voice was breathless, stunned.  “This is real. This is how we stop it.” Nessa peered at the book, skeptical.

“You want to challenge a suitor with a drinking contest from hundreds of years ago?”

 Glinda shot her a look.

“Well, it’s not a drinking contest anymore,” Glinda said, sliding the book over. “It says trials.”

“Acceptable trials for the Suitor’s Crawl as agreed upon by the high council, year 187,” Nessa read aloud, squinting at the faded ink. The page crackled under her fingertips. Glinda leaned in beside her, her heart racing.

“The herding of stubborn cattle,” Glinda read next. “Riddle solving before a witness…”

“Poetry!” Nessa exclaimed with a grin. “Elphaba’s doomed.”

“Let me see that,” Glinda tugged the book back, scanning quickly. “Poetry, original and performed… singing to a local bird?” She blinked. “Only valid if a witness can confirm the bird’s engagement.” Nessa burst into laughter.

“What kind of tradition is this?”

“A ridiculous one,” Glinda said, but she didn’t laugh. She looked up from the page, her expression serious, something brighter burning just beneath the surface. “An official one.”

Their eyes met.

“And we’re invoking it.”

Chapter Text

The tea had gone cold, but Elphaba kept her hands wrapped around the cup anyway, gripping it like an anchor. At the far end of the table, Frexspar cut his toast with slow, precise movements, the faint scrape of silver on porcelain echoing across the cavernous dining hall. The chandelier above cast a steady glow over the long stretch of polished wood between them—too bright for how dim everything felt.

Elphaba stared into the delicate swirl of pale amber in her cup. Someone, probably the housekeeper, had already added milk. She’d meant to ask for it plain, but by the time she sat down, the words had felt too heavy in her mouth. Like everything else lately.

The silence between them wasn’t quiet. It pulsed, loud and suffocating, like a pressure just beneath her skin. It settled in her chest, coiled behind her ribs like a snake waiting to strike. Her spine ached from how long she’d been sitting stiffly upright. Her shoulders were locked tight, muscles pulling against one another in an endless knot.

She hadn’t stopped trying since the moment she stepped through the front doors. She’d been calm, she’d tried reason. She’d pleaded and shouted. Over and over. And still, somehow, none of it moved him. Her throat burned, her voice stretched thin from nights that bled into mornings, from words that fell flat the moment they left her. Nothing got through. Nothing landed.

She watched him as he read, the way he held the newspaper with one hand and chewed with the other hovering politely over his plate, as if the world outside of him hadn’t shifted. The way he cleared his throat, sharp and unnecessary, before turning the page. The way his eyes, when they glanced up at her, held no recognition of the weight she was carrying. Just mild irritation, as if she were a tiresome child.

Her fingers, still curled around the teacup, had gone numb. She forced herself to unclench them. The porcelain felt fragile in her grip, and for one dizzy second, she thought she might hurl it across the room, just to hear something shatter.

The urge passed, leaving only a hollow, aching tiredness in its place. It would be easier to say nothing, to let the silence win just this once.

She took a sip of the cold tea. Set the cup back down, carefully.

“I’m not changing my mind,” she said. Her voice was calm. She was proud of that, even though her jaw ached from how hard she’d been clenching it. Frexspar folded the newspaper with a precise snap.

“And I suppose you think this is bravery? Throwing tantrums over something you don’t even understand?”

“I understand plenty,” she snapped before she could stop herself. “I understand that you’ve promised my life away to someone I’ve never even met—”

“So dramatic, Elphaba,” he interrupted coolly. “You speak as if I’ve sentenced you to death instead of arranged a perfectly respectable marriage.”

“You had no right.” Elphaba’s pulse thudded in her ears.

“I have every right,” Frexspar said, his voice still maddeningly calm. “I am your father. You live under my roof. You benefit from my name, from my protection. It’s my responsibility to think ahead when you refuse to, my responsibility to secure you a future that you, in your short-sightedness, would throw away. You’d rather chase storms than build something stable.”

Elphaba’s fingers curled tighter around the edge of the table, bunching the cloth beneath her hand. Her lungs stuttered against the weight in her chest, every breath a little too short. Heat prickled at the corners of her eyes, sharp and unwelcome. Her throat pulled tight, like something was snagged there, refusing to let go.

“This isn’t a future,” she said, her voice low and shaking. “It’s a sentence.” Frexspar pushed his chair back and stood sharply, the legs scraping against the floor. He adjusted his cuffs with slow, deliberate precision, then lifted his chin.

“You’re an insolent child!” The words cracked through the air, sudden and vicious. Elphaba flinched. “And you should be grateful that I’ve gone to such lengths to see you cared for. No one else would put up with your obstinacy, your dramatics, your refusal to see reason.”

He tugged once more at the edge of his sleeve, smoothing the fabric. He rolled his shoulders back. And when he spoke again, his voice had returned to its measured rhythm, as if the outburst had never happened.

“Your suitor will be arriving this evening. You will greet him with civility, and you will behave.” He reached for the folded newspaper, tucking it beneath his arm with clinical neatness. “Nessarose will be returning in a couple days’ time. She’s bringing a friend from school. No arguments. No scenes. Am I understood?”

Frexspar didn’t wait for a response. He turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the vast quiet he left behind. Elphaba stayed where she was. The tea was gone stone cold.

Her fingers twitched against the tablecloth, then stilled. She pressed her palms flat to the wood beneath, willing the tremor to stop. Her father’s voice rang in her head, sharp and final, every word another weight she couldn’t hold. It never changed. No matter what she said. No matter how hard she tried.

The chandelier’s light buzzed faintly overhead.

She blinked hard, jaw clenched. It would be easier, she told herself, once Nessa arrived. Boq would be with her, most likely. He was always kind. Maybe not entirely helpful, but kind, and that was something. He wouldn’t let her sit in silence. He’d talk, and Nessa would talk louder, and for a little while the estate might feel less like a cage. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Her breath hitched.

And then—Glinda.

The thought came gently, like a breath against the back of her neck—unbidden, impossible to ignore.

Glinda who would have said just the right thing. Who would’ve reached across the table, past the tea, the distance, the pride, and taken her hand. Who would’ve touched her in that easy, graceful way she always did, as if Elphaba wasn’t made of sharp edges at all.

Oz, she missed her. She missed her the way winter misses summer—aching for something brighter, for something that made everything feel possible.

The parlor was too quiet. Elphaba stood near the window, arms crossed, watching the long gravel drive through narrowed eyes. Somewhere behind her, her father rustled the newspaper, the occasional snap of a page the only sound between them. When the crunch of carriage wheels reached the front steps, Frexspar stood and smoothed his coat.

“They’ve arrived,” he said, as if she hadn’t noticed.

Elphaba didn’t reply. She just followed him through the hall, her footsteps echoing in rhythm with his until they stopped at the entry hall. The door opened with a practiced sweep, and a housekeeper bowed slightly before announcing them.

“Mr. Garrick Oathley and his brother, Mr. Farrow Oathley.”

The two men stepped inside. Garrick was taller than she expected. Not tall, but taller than most Glikkuns she’d seen. His skin was a warm tint, sun-browned, like someone who’d seen more open roads than mine shafts. His pale hair was combed back neatly, though a few strands curled rebelliously around his collar. His eyes were pale, not quite squinting, but narrow in a way that made them hard to read. His brother looked much the same, broader across the chest with a well-groomed beard that gave him a more settled, confident air.

Elphaba’s gaze flicked between them.

“They don’t look like miners,” she said quietly, before she could stop herself. Frexspar shot her a glance, sharp and silencing.

“Miss Elphaba,” Garrick said as the housekeeper stepped aside. He gave a short bow, polished but stiff. “It’s truly a pleasure.”

He looked up at her, and something in his expression faltered—not much, just a flicker in his eyes, a faint pause before the smile returned. His gaze lingered for a moment too long, and his voice, when he spoke again, was a touch too bright.

“You’re… striking.”

The silence that followed was fragile. Elphaba didn’t answer. She didn’t move. Her father’s chuckle filled the space instead.

“Well,” Frexspar said, stepping in with the kind of forced joviality that made Elphaba’s skin crawl. She fought not to roll her eyes. “I told you, she was unforgettable.” Garrick’s smile tightened, but he nodded.

“Indeed. Not at all what I expected.” He seemed to catch himself. “That is—I only meant—well, you make quite an impression.”

“Mhmm,” Elphaba said, her tone tight.

“Garrick’s father and I go back a long time,” Frexspar said, clasping his hands behind his back. “An industrious family. Glikkus prides itself on that sort of stock. But merchants, now, not miners, of course.” He gave a pointed look to Garrick and Farrow, as though to remind them of the distinction. Farrow, standing a step behind his brother, gave a polite nod.

“We’ve been fortunate. Our business has grown.”

“No one works harder than those who build something of themselves, a principle I’ve tried to instill with my daughters. Speaking of which…” He turned toward Elphaba with an expression far too eager. “Elphaba knows Colwen Grounds better than anyone. Perhaps she’d be willing to show you around, Garrick. A chance to get to know the place, and one another.”

Her spine went rigid. Garrick turned to her with a too-bright smile. He offered his arm.

“If you’d be so kind,” he said. Elphaba’s eyes dropped to his outstretched arm. Then, she looked up, past him, and moved for the door.

“This way,” she said.

His arm hovered in the air a moment too long before falling back to his side.

The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they stepped into the courtyard, the soft rustle of summer leaves whispering above them. Garrick walked a half a step behind Elphaba, his hands clasped behind his back as if he wasn’t sure what else to do with them.

“This place has… character,” he said, glancing around at the ivy-laced stone and aging ironwork. “Old bones, I’d say.”

Elphaba didn’t answer.

“I’ve always liked courtyards,” he tried again. “Nice place to take in the air, especially with company.”

She kept walking. He chuckled, a touch too loudly.

“Of course, it’s much quieter here than my home in Glikkus. I’m used to the noise of trade halls. Wagons coming and going at all hours. Bit of a shock, really.”

“Mm,” she said.

They turned toward the eastern wing. The library doors stood tall ahead, sunlight flickering across the warped glass panes. She opened the door without another word and stepped inside, the smell of paper and wood polish welcoming her like an old friend. He hesitated before following.

The sun streamed through the tall windows of the library, the light casting harsh, angular shadows against the floor. It felt stark in the brightness, the gleaming shelves seeming to press in from all sides. The books, once a sanctuary of quiet, now seemed stiff and distant, their spines rigid and uninviting.

Garrick’s presence only emphasized the unwelcome air of the room. His footsteps echoed too loudly against the floor, filling the space with something that felt intrusive, too large for the quiet sanctuary. The way he stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, leaning forward as if waiting for something to happen, made the air feel thicker, heavier.

He glanced at the books, then at her.

“I’ll admit I was never much of a reader. Tutors, yes. Ledgers, yes. But books?” He made a face, aiming for levity. “Well, they never seemed to like me very much.” Elphaba turned to look at him for the first time.

“I love books.”

The air cooled. He cleared his throat, clearly unsure what to do with her answer.

“Right. Of course. That makes sense. You strike me as the thoughtful type.”

They didn’t linger in the library. She didn’t want him there. The library had always been a sanctuary, a place of quiet and comfort, of meaning.

Elphaba walked briskly, leading Garrick down another corridor, this one flanked with tall windows that flooded the hallway with golden light. Dust swirled in the air like it was trying to escape the conversation.

“It must be strange,” he said, falling into step beside her, “knowing everything’s about to change.”

She gave him a sideways glance.

“I mean, not in a bad way,” he went on. “Just, a new chapter.” He smiled like they were sharing a secret.

Elphaba kept her gaze forward. She picked up her pace, hoping he’d fall back behind her again. He kept up, unfortunately.

“My mother says it’s a good match. You’re respectable, well-read. And of course, your father’s position doesn’t hurt. She said I should consider myself fortunate.” A pause. “And I do,” he added, glancing at her. “You’re striking.”

The word hung in the air again, a little slower this time. Too measured. Elphaba’s stomach churned.

“I wasn’t expecting—” He stopped himself, then chuckled lightly, trying to smooth it over. “I mean that as a compliment.”

They turned a corner. Elphaba’s fingers brushed the handrail of a staircase as they passed, needing something to ground her.

“I think we’ll do well together,” Garrick said. “I’ve been told I’m easy to get along with. And I don’t need much. Just someone who listens. Who understands her place.” He smiled again, that same careful brightness. “And I get the sense you’re the dutiful sort.”

Elphaba’s throat closed. She didn’t speak. Her steps were clipped, her posture wound tight. He reached a hand toward her back, as if to gently steer her toward the next room. She stepped forward too quickly, avoiding the contact. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

They stepped outside a tall door carved with musical flourishes.

“Music room,” Elphaba said shortly, hand on the latch.

“Ah,” he said. “Shall we?”

She opened the door without waiting for him.

The music room was still, full of dust and faded sound. The afternoon light slanted in through the high windows, catching on the lacquered curves of forgotten instruments and the velvet upholstery of unused chairs. Garrick stepped in ahead of her, looking around with mild curiosity, the kind that didn’t run too deep.

“This could be a lovely space for hosting,” he said, his voice echoing slightly in the open room. “Small concerts, maybe. After the wedding, we’ll want to invite some people from the town.” He smiled at her like they were already co-conspirators in it.

Elphaba didn’t answer. Her gaze had landed on a small object tucked in the corner of a cabinet shelf. A music box. Delicate and dust-covered, its gilded edges catching the light.

Her breath caught and she moved toward it without thinking, the rest of the room fading.

She could see Glinda so clearly it hurt—smiling across a library table, hair catching the sun like silk spun to gold. Her laugh, bright and reckless. The way she leaned into Elphaba without thinking. Her hand brushing Elphaba’s before entwining their fingers. Kissing her behind the dormitory gardens. Holding her that last morning, neither of them wanting to let go.

Her chest ached with how much she missed her. With how much she still wanted.

“Do you play?” Garrick’s voice broke through the quiet.

Elphaba blinked, the visions of Glinda shattering like glass. She turned, slow, reluctant. He was watching her, his tone light, like he thought he’d said something clever.

“I don’t,” she said, flatly. He looked disappointed. Or confused.

“Pity,” he said, stepping a little closer. “I’ve always thought music tells you a lot about a person. Their softness. Their rhythm.” He let the word linger. “You seem like you might surprise someone.”

When he reached for her hand, Elphaba stepped back. The air between them shifted.

“I don’t want this,” she said.

She didn’t look at him as she said it. Her eyes were on the music box, on the little brass key in its side. Garrick didn’t respond right away. She heard the slight shift of his shoes on the floor, the careful breath he drew in.

“Well,” he said, his voice was colder, like he’d pressed something down. His smile was no longer warm but practiced. “We don’t always get what we want, do we?”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was loaded, brittle, ready to splinter. Elphaba felt it in her spine, in the way the air had turned.

There was a knock at the door. A housekeeper, as if summoned by fate, stepped in with a mild smile.

“Dinner is ready, Miss Elphaba. Master Garrick.”

Elphaba didn’t look at him again. She turned and walked out, her breath tight in her throat, the music box still singing in her mind.

The next two days dragged like dead weight, each hour a burden pressing down on her shoulders.

Garrick made every effort to be visible. He appeared in hallways, at the breakfast table, in the garden paths she’d once had to herself. He had a way of speaking that assumed familiarity, of reaching for her elbow or shoulder in a way that made her skin crawl. Elphaba learned quickly how to disappear: the library, the orchard, the old servant corridors no one used anymore.

He seemed determined to wear her down with persistent cheer and casual remarks about their future, each one setting her teeth further on edge. And then Frexspar had found out about what she’d said in the music room.

He didn’t bring it up directly, of course, but the air in the house shifted. His displeasure hung thick around her, cool and sharp. He’d snapped at her over nothing, his voice tight and too loud. Told her to fix her posture. Told her to be gracious.

And so Elphaba drifted through the hours like a ghost in her own house, brittle with restraint, her chest aching with the weight of everything she carried.

By the time the carriage wheels crunched on the gravel drive that late afternoon, she hadn’t spoken a full sentence all day.

Elphaba stood beside Frexspar on the front steps. The sun was beginning to get low behind them, casting long shadows across the gravel drive. The tension between them pulsed like a second heartbeat, unspoken but present in every inch of space they shared. She kept her hands folded neatly in front of her, her fingers twitching. Frexspar’s expression was unreadable, but his mouth was set in that thin, impatient line she knew too well.

The carriage rounded the bend and slowed, its wheels crunching over the stones. Elphaba’s stomach turned but steadied when she reminded herself it was just her sister. Just Nessa. Boq would help her down. They’d greet them, and perhaps the presence of someone familiar would ease the edge of everything else.

Her heart gave a traitorous lurch as the carriage slowed to a stop. She took a deep breath. It was nothing, just the pressure of the moment—the knowledge that even with Nessa here, everything else remained unchanged. Garrick was still inside. Her father was still furious. And she still had no idea what to do.

The driver stepped down first, circling to the back and reaching for the folding chair for Nessa. Elphaba watched, her brow slightly furrowed. She kept her eyes sharp, waiting for Boq’s familiar mop of hair to appear. But no one emerged. The driver unfolded the chair with car, opening it beside the step. Another moment passed before he opened the door and reached into the carriage to help Nessa ease down into the seat.

Elphaba’s brow twitched.

Where was Boq? Why wasn’t he helping?

She leaned forward, trying to see inside the carriage. A shape moved—slim—and stepped down on the far side, hidden for just a moment by the bulk of the carriage.

And then—

No. It couldn’t be.

Glinda.

She rounded the edge with the golden sun behind her, her perfectly curled golden hair falling around her shoulders, her dress a soft, gleaming yellow that caught the light like a candle to a flame. Her eyes—those beautiful, soft eyes—found Elphaba instantly.

She forgot how to breathe. She didn’t move; she couldn’t.

It felt like the world dropped out from beneath her, like gravity shifted to pull her toward Glinda and Glinda alone. Her heart gave a thudding jolt, then another, each beat painful in its clarity.

She hadn’t prepared for this; she hadn’t even dared to imagine this.

Glinda looked like every dream Elphaba wasn’t allowed to have.

Her smile—warm and unguarded—lit up her face like the sunrise, and Elphaba felt the threat of tears rise so quickly it startled her. She blinked hard. She tried to steady herself. But the sight of Glinda standing there, radiant and real, unraveled her.

The last time she’d seen her, Elphaba had walked away. And now, here she was. Everything in her ached to cross the distance between them. To touch her, to say something, anything. But her body wouldn’t move. She just stood there, frozen in place, drowning in her sight.

Glinda smiled again, and Elphaba nearly broke.

They barely spoke. Faint greetings were exchanged, names said aloud as though they might anchor them to reality. Frexspar was already moving toward Nessa, his voice full of warmth, his attention entirely swept up in her arrival. Elphaba didn’t hear a single word of it. Her eyes never strayed from Glinda.

And Glinda’s never strayed from hers.

The moment Frexspar steered Nessa toward the house, their voices fading down the walk, a silence settled over the gravel drive. The kind that hummed with everything left unsaid. Glinda took a breath as if it hurt.

“Oh, Elphie.”

Then she moved. She crossed the space between them in a rush, her dress flying behind her, her eyes already glassy. And before Elphaba could react, Glinda threw her arms around her neck and clung tightly, desperate, as if Elphaba was the only thing keeping her upright.

Elphaba staggered back a step from the force of it, catching her, her arms instinctively wrapping around her waist, drawing her in close. Her body moved before her mind could catch up. And then she held her. She closed her eyes and held her.

The feel of her hair, the warmth of her body, the unmistakable sensation of her, was all too much and somehow not enough. Elphaba’s chest ached with the overwhelming force of it. Her throat constricted; her hands trembled. Glinda pressed her face against her shoulder.

“I missed you,” she breathed, her voice cracking with the words. “I missed you so much.”

Elphaba didn’t speak; she couldn’t. She just held her tighter, one hand curling protectively around the back of Glinda’s head, the other gripping her waist like she might vanish.

When Glinda pulled back, her cheeks were wet and flushed, her expression blazing.

“You absolute—ugh!” she snapped, her cheeks burning with color. “I’m so mad at you!” Then she swatted Elphaba’s shoulder—not hard, but dramatic enough to make her point. Elphaba blinked, struggling to form words.

“I know, and—”

“Oh, shut up,” Glinda said, surging forward.

The kiss hit Elphaba like a storm—fierce and hungry, as though it were the only thing in the world that could make everything stop spinning. Glinda’s hands were frantic, framing Elphaba’s face with trembling fingers, and Elphaba melted into it, losing herself in the taste, the heat, the absence she’d been living with. This was everything she’d been craving, aching for, and now it was here, crashing through her like a tidal wave.

Glinda pulled back with a soft, broken sound—almost a sob—and then leaned in again.

This kiss was slower. Sweeter. Her lips moved like she was memorizing the shape of Elphaba’s mouth, like she was afraid to forget it. Elphaba kissed her back with aching tenderness, her hands trembling in response.

When they pulled back, Elphaba rested her forehead against Glinda’s, eyes closed, just breathing her in. They stayed like that, tucked close in the quiet, lost in the one thing that made sense.

Everything around them seemed to still, to quiet. For the first time in days, Elphaba’s chest didn’t ache. The marriage, her father, Garrick, they were all still waiting for her, yes. But with Glinda here, pressed close, real, and warm in her arms, the weight of it all didn’t feel so impossible.

She pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

“Come on,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Glinda nodded, her eyes shining. As Elphaba turned to lead the way, Glinda’s hand slid to her arm. She leaned into her as they walked, her fingers curling just above Elphaba’s elbow, a small but intimate gesture. It was such a simple thing, the way they fell into step. The way Glinda settled into her side, like she’d always belonged there.

Because she had.

Even before they were anything more than friends, this was how they had walked, how they had moved through the world together. And the feel of Glinda’s hand on her arm, the gentle pressure of her leaning in, was grounding. Familiar. Right.

The library looked different in the early evening light, bathed in soft gold and dusky amber as the sun began to slip low in the sky. Shadows stretched long across the floor, and the tall windows burned with the last light of day. The air was lighter than it had been in days. It felt like something had shifted.

Glinda stepped ahead, moving slowly as she took it all in. Her fingertips brushed along the edge of a table, her gaze sweeping the high shelves and quiet corners. There was a softness in her face, wonder in her eyes, the curve of her mouth lifted into something close to awe.

Elphaba’s gaze followed Glinda, straying nowhere else.

The way the fading light caught in her hair. The delicate tilt of her chin. The quiet reverence she gave to a space Elphaba had always thought of as hers. Though, suddenly it didn’t feel like hers at all—not without Glinda in it.

“It’s beautiful,” Glinda said, her voice like a hush.

“You’re beautiful,” Elphaba said, quietly, earnestly. Glinda turned, and her smile deepened into something more mischievous.

“Charmer.”

“Only for you.” Elphaba stepped closer, the ache in her chest blooming into something almost unbearable. She reached out and took both of Glinda’s hands gently in hers, her thumbs brushing over her knuckles.

“Glinda,” she said, her voice catching slightly. Glinda looked up at her, waiting. “I’m sorry. For that night. For snapping at you, and for leaving the way I did. It was reckless. Thoughtless. I just—” Her voice faltered. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Glinda’s expression crumpled with emotion, but she shook her head quickly.

“No. I shouldn’t have brushed you off. I shouldn’t have said what I did. You were trying, and I—I didn’t let you.”

Elphaba released one of Glinda’s hands to reach up and gently cup her face, her thumb sweeping tenderly along her cheek.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “You’re here now.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Glinda’s forehead, soft and steady, full of everything she couldn’t say. Glinda’s eyes fluttered shut, her hand tightening around Elphaba’s.

Elphaba pulled back, her brow furrowed slightly.

“Wait… why are you here?”

“Oh. Right.” Glinda blinked, then smiled nervously. “Well, I’m here to stop the marriage.”

Elphaba’s lips parted in stunned silence.

“Nessa and I—” Glinda started, but her words caught, and she quickly continued. “We found something. A loophole. A way to challenge it. It’s… complicated, but it’s real.”

Elphaba just stared at her, and Glinda rushed on. She told Elphaba how after she’d read Elphaba’s note she’d gone straight to the library, tearing through texts in the middle of the night. How Nessa had found her there, bleary-eyed and furious. How she’d marched to Morrible’s office, and without flinching, lied through her teeth. She’d claimed Elphaba’s grandfather had been ill and she needed an extension on her exams.

“You outsmarted Horrible Morrible?” Elphaba asked, cutting in, stunned.

“Oh, yes,” Glinda said, her chin lifting proudly. “And I’d do it again.”

Elphaba looked at her like she was seeing stars for the first time. Glinda took a breath and went on.

“Nessa and I found something. Something old. Your father won’t expect it, no one will. But it’s a way out. Nessa’s talking to him right now, convincing him to call a town hall meeting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Elphaba’s eyes widened.

“It’s short notice, I know,” Glinda said quickly. “But the sooner the better. We can’t let him catch on, or he might try and stop it.” Elphaba said nothing at first, just stared at her like she might vanish again if she looked away.

“You really came all this way,” she said softly, “for me?”

“I’d go to the ends of Oz for you.”

Elphaba didn’t speak right away. She only looked at her.

Glinda, flushed from emotion and a breathless sort of urgency, stood barely a step away, but to Elphaba, she seemed to light the entire room.

It was like something came loose in her chest, like she could finally breathe again.

She stepped forward, falling into Glinda’s arms. She folded into the safety she’d always convinced herself she didn’t need. She buried her face in the crook of Glinda’s neck, her arms tightening around her like she might fall apart otherwise. Glinda made a soft, surprised sound, and then wrapped her arms around Elphaba just as tightly.

Elphaba let her eyes fall closed, letting the moment settle around her. For all her supposed cleverness, she had never been able to name what she felt, not really. Not now, not until this. The weight in her chest, the ache in her throat, the fragile sense of relief… it was all too much, too overwhelming. She wanted to pull back from it, terrified of how much more it might hurt if she did, terrified of what it might mean to let herself need someone so fully. But Glinda was here, holding her, and the warmth of her skin, the steady beat of her heart, made everything feel so simple, so right.

This was home.

And though Elphaba had never allowed herself to want something like this, not truly, not this much, now that it was here, she couldn’t imagine a life without it. For once, there was nothing else she wanted but to hold on and never let go. And for once, she let herself believe it might stay.

“I never thought anyone would—” Elphaba’s voice faltered, barely audible. Her throat ached with the force of it. Glinda’s hand found the back of neck, her fingers curling gently, soothing.

“Of course I would,” she murmured. She rubbed Elphaba’s neck in slow, comforting strokes. “Of course.”

And for the first time in days, maybe even longer, Elphaba let herself believe that everything might somehow be okay.

Not because the road ahead was simple, or because the fight was over.

But because with Glinda by her side, she no longer felt lost or alone. Her heart, for the first time since she’d read her father’s letter in that pub, felt full—safe in a way it never had before.

Chapter Text

The town hall buzzed with voices. Heat clung to the wooden beams overhead, stirred only by the occasional creak of a shifting bench or the flutter of a folding fan. Glinda sat near the front, her hands folded in her lap, one thumb absently worrying over the other. Her heel tapped a steady beat against the floorboards, too fast for comfort. She folded her hands tighter.

Glinda sat near the front next to Nessa with Elphaba just beyond them. Nessa sat unusually still beside her, her chin high, her gaze straight ahead. On the other side of Nessa, Elphaba had her arms folded and her expression locked into something close to indifference. Glinda resisted the urge to glance her way again.

At the front of the room, a raised table stretched beneath a crooked banner bearing the town’s crest. Five council seats were filled, though only one truly mattered. Frexspar sat at the center, his robes stiffer and grander than usual. He was flanked by two elderly councilors—one thin and hawk-nosed, the other with a wheezing cough—and a bored-looking younger man who tapped a quill against his teeth. Perched primly on the final chair, all feathers and attitude, was a bright pink Cockatoo with spectacles tucked into the ridge of her beak.

Glinda’s eyes fluttered around the room. People shifted, speculated, leaned across aisles and whispered guesses. The noise pressed in from every side. Glinda tapped her foot faster.

The room quietened as Frexspar rose, and Glinda, without meaning to, looked to the left. Elphaba sat stiffly, her jaw tight, her brow drawn, but when their eyes met, she smiled. Just a little. Just enough. Glinda took in a deep breath, her foot slowing down.

Frexspar rose with the air of a man certain he would not be interrupted. The swell of voices faltered the moment he stood, then hushed altogether as he lifted a hand. His presence was commanding in a way that only entitlement could be—shoulders back, chin high, voice steady and warm like honey glazed over iron.

“My friends,” he said, spreading his hands. “I see many familiar faces here this evening, and I imagine you’re wondering why the hall was called with such urgency.” Glinda’s jaw tensed. He smiled, modest and practiced. “Let me assure you, it is nothing dire. Quite the opposite, in fact. But I’ll not take up the time myself. My daughter, Nessa, has a few words to say.”

He gestured smoothly to her, like it was all part of a well-rehearsed play. Glinda didn’t miss the way he glanced toward the crowd as he sat back down, as if to measure their Admiration. Nessa wheeled herself forward and settled beside the council table. Her posture was dignified but not stiff, her hands folded lightly in her lap.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said, her voice soft but clear. “I know the hour is late, and the notice… sudden.” A few heads nodded and she offered a small smile. “But many of you know me, and I know you, so I hope you’ll trust me when I say this is something worth hearing.”

She paused, then turned slightly toward Glinda.

“My friend has something rather important to say. I ask that you give her the kindness of your ears, and the respect of your silence.”

Glinda stood, smoothing the front of her skirt as the weight of the room tipped toward her like a held breath. Every eye followed. Frexspar’s brows lifted, just slightly.  The silence was complete—confused and curious.

“I beg your pardon?” Frexspar tilted his head.

Glinda smiled as she stood and stepped forward, her posture flawless, her tone light and effortless.

“Thank you, Nessa,” she said warmly, then turned to the room with practiced poise. “And thank you, again, for gathering on such short notice. For those of you I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, my name is Glinda Upland, of Frottica.”

A ripple moved through the crowd at her name. Recognition. Curiosity.

“I’ve only just arrived in Munchkinland, and I must say, what a charming place. Truly. I’ve been made to feel very welcome, and I find myself quite taken with the countryside.” She let her gaze drift meaningfully around the room until she landed on Elphaba. “And with some of its company.”

The room softened under her, warm chuckles and shifting postures. Then her voice changed—gentle still, but edged with purpose.

“I understand that a private arrangement has been made for the hand of Miss Elphaba Thropp.” There it was. No dancing around it. She paused as her eyes swept the room, allowing her words to sink in. “I’m here to challenge it.”

Gasps. A swell of shocked murmurs, disbelief flitting across the rows like sparks. She let is hang for a breath.

“I’ve heard of a tradition,” she continued slowly, her gaze trailing over the council table and through the crowd. “Not often spoken of now, but still valid.” She smiled again, bright as polished steel. “The Suitor’s Crawl.”

The crowd froze. Then, all at once, it broke into a low, confused buzz—people whispering to one another, glancing toward the front, asking if they’d heard right. And then—laughter. Low and incredulous, rolling from Frexspar’s chest as he stood again.

“A suitor’s crawl?”  he repeated, shaking his head. “Good heavens, girl, where did you dredge up this nonsense?” He glanced toward the other council members as if inviting their amusement, then turned back to Glinda with something colder behind his smile. “Miss Upland, I suggest you have a seat before you embarrass yourself further.”

“I can assure you the tradition is very much—” Glinda started before she was cut off.

“You’re far from home, child. Perhaps you’re confused—this isn’t a ballroom, and we’re not playing at courtship with rose petals and riddles.”

“No, I supposed not,” Glinda said, lifting her chin. “In the ballrooms back home, at least the gentlemen have to earn their dances and our daughters aren’t pawned off to the highest bidder.”

“This is a waste of breath!” Garrick stood from his seat, trying to seize control. “She’s performing some theatrical protest cooked up by your daughter.”

“You always did have a taste for rebellion, Elphaba. Is this the best you could find? A schoolgirl with delusions of valor?” Frexspar scoffed.

“If you’d prefer someone less capable, Garrick’s still here,” Glinda offered, holding her ground with her chin high as the room became a storm around her.

The crowd surged with noise—shocked murmurs turning to raised voices, opinions forming, unraveling, and clashing in real time.

A sharp, trilling bird call split the air. Heads turned.

Near the council table, the pink-feathered Cockatoo had risen to her clawed feet, her crest flaring slightly, her eyes bright with something between mischief and certainty.

“It’s true,” she said, in a voice that rasped with age and amusement. “The Suitor’s Crawl is real.” The room quieted like a bell had rung. Frexspar turned toward her sharply.

“Cookie,” he said, trying for patience but reaching condescension. “You can’t possibly be serious.” She didn’t flinch.

“I remember the last one. I was barely out of my nest. Cried the whole time because my feathers hadn’t come in yet, and I wanted to race too.” A few surprised chuckles rippled through the crowd. “It was Arlo Fenn and Thatchel something or other. They competed for the hand of Loretta Crest.” She tapped a talon on the table. “Arlo won. Just barely. Scraped through the final trial with a broken toe and face full of berries.”

More laughter followed. From the second row, a man stood—older, with ink stains on his fingertips.

“It’s in the library records too. I’ve read it myself. Tucked back in the municipal archive, but it’s there.”

The murmurs were gaining momentum again, spreading like ripples through water. Frexspar had gone rigid beside the council table, his mouth pressed into a hard line as color rose high on his cheeks. Glinda met his eye, just long enough to watch the flush creep up his neck.

Then she turned her attention to Garrick. He sat beside Elphaba, his posture stiff, his hands clenched too tightly in his lap. His gaze bounced between the Cockatoo, the crowd, Frexspar—anywhere but Glinda.

She let the murmur of the crowd stretch, then tilted her head slightly, the smile on her lips more gleam than warmth.

“Well,” she said, soft and sweet. She took a single step forward, her tin chipping as she looked him over. “Do you accept?”

Garrick didn’t answer. The weight of the room settled on him like a net. The crowd had quieted again, not with shock, but with anticipation.

A bead of sweat slipped down his temple. He glanced toward Frexspar, but no help came. The man’s jaw was locked tight, his lips thin with fury. Whatever control Frexspar had expected to wield was already slipping. Garrick’s eyes darted back to Glinda. Her smile hadn’t moved.

He could refuse. He could shake his head, say no, retreat behind a dozen excuses. But he had to know as well as Glinda that he couldn’t—everyone here would see it for what it was.

Cowardice.

Glinda, for her part, was in no rush. She let her gaze drift past Garrick to the seat beside him. Elphaba hadn’t spoken a word, but her expression said enough: amused, almost smug, and something more vulnerable beneath it.

The silence stretched for one breath longer.

“I accept,” Garrick said, his voice strained and far too small for the space.

The room erupted again—no longer confused, but astonished. Murmurs swelled from every corner, rising and overlapping as the council exchanged glances and townsfolk leaned in to whisper with sharp eyes.

Glinda paid them no attention. She turned from Garrick with the quiet grace of someone who already knew how this would end. She let her gaze find Elphaba again—still sitting silent, still looking at her as if she wasn’t entirely real.

And then Glinda winked. Just once. A flicker of a smirk curved her lips as she turned fully toward the crowd, chin lifted in easy, effortless control.

The hour was indecently late, yet Glinda hadn’t managed to lie still for more than a few minutes at a time. The quiet of the estate, the deep hush settling into sleep, only seemed to intensify the racing thoughts inside her. She slipped on her slippers, the soft fabric whispering against the rug as she crossed the length of her room. The world outside her window was dark, the sky stretching wide and calm, with the occasional rustle of wind through the trees to break the silence.

The trials would begin at dawn.

Glinda bunched the fabric of her nightgown in her hands as she turned away. Silk slipped between her fingers, but it gave her nothing to ground herself to. She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, then stood again, walked to the mirror, then back.

In the past two days, she’d barely had a moment to herself. Reporters from The Munchkin Post and the Unionist Gazette had come with their notebooks and their questions, asking for statements and portraits, pushing in close with bright smiles as they’d asked if she’d really intended to uphold a long-dead tradition. She’d smiled, of course—she always did—but her jaw had begun to ache from it.

She didn’t know what the trials would entail. That was part of the cruelty. Everything was left to chance—spinning a wheel, for Oz’s sake—and she had no say in it. Elphaba couldn’t help her. No one could. The tradition was supposed to be fair, balanced, rooted in reason. It didn’t feel like that could be true when Frexspar was already speaking like he owned his daughter’s outcome.

He’d passed Glinda in the hallway earlier that day with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I do hope you’ve been enjoying your final days of influence here, Miss Upland, he’d said, all smooth civility. These things have a way of settling themselves.

She’d smiled, but it hadn’t reached her eyes either. Funny how things have a way of working out, isn’t it, she’d replied, her voice light but her gaze like steel.

Glinda moved to the corner of the room, standing near the empty fireplace, arms still wrapped tightly around herself.

And Elphaba…

It felt as if she hadn’t seen her since the announcement.

Not properly. Not more than a glance across a crowded hallway, not more than a nod from a guarded distance. The rules forbade a suitor from showing favoritism, and Elphaba had followed them to the letter. She hadn’t come to her. Not once. It made sense of course, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.

Glinda crossed her arms tightly over her chest and looked around her room like it might offer her some kind of comfort. She worried her lip, glancing toward the window.

What if it isn’t enough?

What if no matter what she said or did, the wheel landed the wrong, or the trials played against them? What if she lost?

She hadn’t realized how still the room had become until the click of the latch at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Her breath hitched at the noise, and she took a sharp step back, her pulse leaping.

Then a sliver of green appeared at the crack of the door.

“Elphie?” Glinda breathed, her voice catching in her throat.

The door eased open just far enough to let her in, and then Elphaba was there. She clicked the door shut behind her, and Glinda didn’t wait. She crossed the space between them in a few quick steps and wrapped her arms around Elphaba’s neck, pulling her in without hesitation. Without a word, Elphaba’s arms folded tight around Glinda’s waist, as though she’d been waiting for this just as long.

Their lips met in a swift, breathless kiss. It wasn’t long, wasn’t deep, just a pressed trembling affirmation of yes, I’m here.

When Glinda pulled back, her hands lingered against Elphaba’s neck, fingers brushing over the soft skin there.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, her eyes wide, confusion lacing the edge of her words.

“I had to see you,” Elphaba said quietly. Then she pulled Glinda in and they kissed again—slower this time, like they meant to make up for every second stolen by duty and distance. When Glinda broke away again, it was only to breathe, her lips curling into the faintest smile.

“You’re being reckless,” she murmured, her voice half-scolding, half in awe.

“You think I don’t know how to sneak around my own estate?” Elphaba said, low and warm, the edge of a smirk in her voice. She leaned in and kissed her once more, brief but sure, and when she drew back, her hands stayed on Glinda’s waist, grounding them both. “I missed you.”

Elphaba’s words hung in the air, and Glinda’s heart lurched with a sharp, aching twist. She reached for Elphaba’s hands, gently pulling them from her waist, her fingers curling around Elphaba’s as she backed toward the bed. She sat first, drawing Elphaba down beside her, close enough that their knees touched.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretching, not heavy or uncomfortable, but full.

“I keep trying to be brave,” Glinda said at last, her voice barely above a breath. “But it’s hard when everything feels so…” she sighed, “outside of me.”

Elphaba turned slightly, her eyebrows knitting in quiet concern. Glinda’s fingers tightened around hers without thinking.

“I have no idea what we’ll have to do,” Glinda continued, her voice quiet but strained. “And no one’s done this in so long that the even the official seem like they’re guessing.” She paused, tugging slightly at Elphaba’s hands, her fingers cold despite the warmth between them. “For all I know, I’ll be jousting or baking or reciting Ozian law in front of a council of toads.”

She tried to laugh but it came out brittle. Glinda looked down at their joined hands, and her voice dipped lower.

“I’m supposed to win. I’m supposed to earn the right to stand beside you, but how can I do that when I don’t even know what’s coming?” She looked up again, into Elphaba’s eyes. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I lose?” Her voice broke a little on the last word. She wasn’t crying, but she was close. Her expression wavered as she searched Elphaba’s face for something solid—for something safe. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Glinda’s voice trembled at the edge. She didn’t mean to fall apart, but it was all catching up to her now, here in the quiet, with Elphaba so close and everything else feeling so impossibly far away. She blinked hard, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, but a single tear broke loose before she could stop it.

Elphaba reached up without a word and brushed it away with her thumb. Her hand lingered, her palm settling gently against Glinda’s cheek.  Her fingers curved along the line of her jaw, warm and certain, like a flame tracing the edge of something delicate and beautiful. Glinda leaned into the touch.

“You won’t lose me,” Elphaba said softly. “Not to a wheel. Not to a test.” She hesitated then, her gaze steady but unguarded, like something fragile had just been laid bare. “There’s no part of me that isn’t yours.”

Glinda’s breath caught. She felt it everywhere—in her chest, her fingertips, the hollow of her ribs. It wasn’t a promise; it was a fact.

The room was still. Elphaba’s thumb traced lightly along her cheekbone, as if memorizing it.

Then something shifted, a flicker in Elphaba’s eyes, like a thread pulled taut.

Glinda saw it and her heart skipped, the air between them thick and waiting. She didn’t speak, she couldn’t, but her body leaned in almost on instinct, like the space between them had become unbearable. Elphaba’s throat bobbed in a swallow. Her eyes didn’t leave Glinda’s.

“I love you.”

Elphaba said it like it was a truth that had lived within her for years, on that burned through silence and distance and expectation until it found its way to air. The room didn’t move and neither did they. But Glinda felt it like lightning straight through her chest. Her breath caught, then trembled out as her eyes searched Elphaba’s, not for certainty, but to absorb the reality of what had just been said. What she’d been waiting for without even realizing it.

Her lips parted as if a reply might come, but no sound followed; just a helpless smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She leaned forward slowly, until their foreheads touched, her eyes fluttering closed at the warmth of it, the safety of it. Elphaba’s breath mingled with hers, and for a moment they stayed just like that—two hearts trying to steady themselves.

Then, a laugh escaped Glinda, softly, barely there.

“You really know how to undo me,” she whispered. She pulled back, just far enough to meet Elphaba’s eyes. “I love you too.”

Her hands came up slowly, reverently, one brushing back a loose strand of Elphaba’s hair, the other cradling her jaw. She held her like something precious, something real. Her palms framed her cheeks gently, her thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of Elphaba’s cheekbones. She held Elphaba there, just looking at her, like the sight alone could steady her heart.

And then she kissed her.

Slowly. Deeply. With the kind of tenderness that made the world go quiet.

Glinda melted into it, like her body had been strung tight for days and she was finally allowed to let go. She shifted closer, one hand sliding back into Elphaba’s hair, the other cupping her jaw like she could anchor herself there. There was nothing careful about it, not because it was wild, but because it was honest, her heart unraveling like a knot. And Elphaba kissed her back like she understood all of it, like she felt it too.

The kiss softened and slowed, and they stayed there, their foreheads resting together, breathing each other in like it was the only thing that mattered. Glinda pulled back just enough to smile, her eyes shining.  Then she leaned in again, pressing a smaller kiss to Elphaba’s lips, sweet and sure. When she drew back, her voice was a whisper.

“Stay with me tonight. For as long as you can.”

Elphaba let out a quiet laugh, low and warm.

“You know I can’t say no to you.”

Glinda’s lips turned up in a soft smile. She brushed her fingers gently down Elphaba’s arm, lacing them through hers as she stood.

“Then don’t,” she murmured.

She stepped backward toward the bed, drawing Elphaba with her, slow and unhurried, like there was nowhere else in the world they needed to be. The lights flickered low, casting shadows across the room, and everything outside the space between them seemed to fall away.

Elphaba followed her willingly, her eyes locked on Glinda like she couldn’t quite believe she was real. When Glinda’s calves brushed the edge of the mattress, she pulled Elphaba close, her hands lingering on the fabric of her shit. Their lips met again, in a deep consuming way that left no space for air or anything but want. Elphaba pressed forward into her, her hands cradling Glinda’s jaw, then sliding down her arms in a slow trail.

One kiss became two, then three, broken only by breath and the fumbling slide of fabric being drawn away between them. Elphaba’s hands found the ties of Glinda’s nightgown, loosening them with certainty, and Glinda’s hands found the buttons of Elphaba’s shirt in return.

Clothing slipped away in stages, slow and deliberate like the very act of undressing was its own kind of devotion. Between each kiss something else was revealed—a bare shoulder, the line of a collarbone, the soft curve of a hip. As the last layer fell away, Elphaba’s hands slid down Glinda’s sides, her fingers lingering at her waist before her lips left Glinda’s mouth and went lower, finding the soft skin of her neck.

Glinda gasped, her breath catching as Elphaba kissed just beneath her ear, then lower, dragging her mouth along the line of her throat. When she nipped lightly at the spot just above her collarbone, Glinda moaned aloud, her hands tightening around Elphaba’s back.

Without hesitation, she pulled her down with her, sinking back onto the mattress and drawing Elphaba fully on top of her. Their mouths met again in a kiss that was no longer restrained; it was open and hungry, tongues brushing, breaths mingling, teeth grazing. Glinda’s hands tangled in Elphaba’s hair, her body arching upward like she could get closer still.

When Elphaba finally pulled back, Glinda followed, a soft sound of protest escaping her lips. Elphaba didn’t go far, her mouth moved lower, slow and deliberate, kissing across the Glinda’s chest. Her hands skimmed along her ribcage, holding her in place as her lips closed around one nipple.

Glinda’s head tipped back with a broken sound, her fingers digging into Elphaba’s shoulders as her hips bucked upward involuntarily. Elphaba groaned against her skin and squeezed her hips in response—grounding her, claiming her.

She moved lower, her lips trailing in a slow, heated path down Glinda’s stomach. Glinda’s breath hitched, her fingers brushing over Elphaba’s shoulders. Elphaba settled between her thighs, her hands caressing Glinda’s hips with a tenderness that failed to disguise the hunger in her eyes. She leaned in pressing a kiss to the inside of Glinda’s thigh.

When her teeth grazed Glinda’s skin, she gaped again, her thighs tightening around Elphaba instinctively.

“Elphaba—” Glinda gasped, her voice little more than a whisper, but her body said everything else; arching, reaching, pulling her closer like she couldn’t get enough.

Elphaba raised her head just enough to meet her eyes. Her gaze burned. She kissed her thigh once more, gently, like a promise. Then she lowered her head, her breath warm against Glinda’s skin, and her lips parted—slow, deliberate—just before she leaned in.

Glinda’s breath caught, her body tensing in anticipation as Elphaba’s tongue slid over her in a long, slow lick.

Glinda gasped, a sharp, helpless sound. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, in Elphaba’s hair, in anything she could reach. Elphaba didn’t stop. Glinda’s eyes fluttered shut, her body arching into the touch, overwhelmed by the burning ache Elphaba stoked with every movement.

Then everything else fell away.

Glinda stirred at the slow, rhythmic feeling of fingers combing through her hair. The room was still dark, the first blush of the morning barely touching the edges of the curtains. She blinked drowsily, a soft hum escaping her as she stretched beneath the covers, and instinctively leaned into the touch. Elphaba sat beside her, one knee drawn up on the bed, her other hand resting lightly against Glinda’s hip. Her silhouette was dark against the early gray of the window.

“Mm,” Glinda murmured, her eyes still half-closed. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” Elphaba said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind Glinda’s ear. “I have to go, my sweet, before someone notices I’m not in my room.”

Glinda made a soft, unhappy noise, her fingers catching Elphaba’s wrist. Elphaba leaned down and kissed her brow, tender and lingering, before slipping from the bed. She moved quietly through the room, gathering her clothes, and Glinda watched her. The slow bend of her back, the way the dim light traced the line of her spine and the curve of her shoulder. When Elphaba turned to slip into a garment, she caught Glinda watching and smiled—small, knowing, impossibly fond.

“You’re going to be brilliant today,” Elphaba said, her voice low and warm with certainty. “I hope Garrick’s prepared to lose.” Glinda smiled, but didn’t speak. She only watched her.

Elphaba crossed back to the bed, crouched low beside her, and kissed her quickly, full of promise. Her hand lingered for a moment at Glinda’s cheek.

“I’ll be watching.”

“You better.” Glinda smiled, her voice sleepy.

Elphaba gave her one last look, quiet and full of affection, then slipped through the door. Glinda lay still for a moment, wrapped in the warmth Elphaba left behind. She inhaled the scent on the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut again as sleep pulled her gently under.

Glinda woke later that morning to the sound of a knock at her door. Someone had come to rouse her from the quiet that lingered after Elphaba had left; the weight of her absence had still been heavy in the room. The bustle outside had already begun—distant voices, hurried footsteps in the hall, the rustle of someone preparing her clothes for the day. She barely remembered the moments as she stood there, a little dazed, the warmth of the bed clinging to her skin.

By the time Glinda reached the heart of Nest Hardings, the space felt smaller than she had expected, yet the crowd stretched further than she could see. They were loud, excited, buzzing with anticipation. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meats, and the streets had come alive, brimming with energy. She had imagined the trials would draw a crowd, but nothing could have prepared her for the sea of faces around her.

At the center of it all, a large wheel stood tall on a platform, a gleaming symbol of the trial’s absurdity. Beside it, the appointed judges sat, Cookie among them, her pink feathers fluttering in the breeze, a contrast to the otherwise stony faces around her. The wheel creaked in the wind, the heavy thud of its turning mechanism audible in the morning air.

The crowd’s energy was a living thing, vibrating in her bones. Glinda felt the weight of every eye on her as she took her place. For a moment, she wished she could disappear, retreat to the quiet corners of the world she knew, but she stood tall.

“Welcome, everyone!” Cookie’s voice rang out, smooth and confident, carrying over the noise of the crowd. “Thank you all for joining us today, for what is sure to be a thrilling contest of wit, strength, and strategy!”

As Cookie spoke about the trials and introduced the judges, Glinda was gently pushed onto the platform, her heart thudding against her ribs. The crowd seemed to swell around her, voices rising in anticipation, their eager faces already fixed on her. To her left, Garrick stood, just as determined as Glinda. Her gaze swept across the sea of faces. She didn’t know what she was hoping for—reassurance maybe, or courage—but she searched for Elphaba anyway. Glinda’s eyes scanned the crowd, quick and eager, darting past waving hands and curious stares, but she didn’t find her.

“Today, we have two worthy competitors,” Cookie announced, her tone warm but commanding, like a herald announcing royalty. The crowd cheered, and Glinda’s nerves fluttered like a trapped bird in her chest. “On my left, the challenger—Glinda Upland!”

The crowd erupted into applause, and Glinda straightened, her heart skipping a beat. They cheered for her, but the weight of it, the magnitude of the moment, still felt daunting. She looked again, sweeping pas the blur of colors and faces until… there. Near the edge of the crowd, just behind a row of merchants’ stalls, Elphaba stood. Her arms were folded, her mouth set in that familiar, unreadable line, but her fierce, steady eyes were locked on Glinda’s. Their gaze held, just for a moment, and Glinda’s chest settled. Her fingers eased at her sides as the wind caught the edge of her skirt.

“And on my right, the one who has accepted—Garrick Oathley!” Cookie continued, her voice lifting with enthusiasm.

The cheers for Garrick were just as loud, a mixture of support and curiosity swelling around them. The crowd was divided, both sides eager to see who would emerge victorious. Cookie raised a feathered wing for quiet, and the crowd slowly settled down.

“As tradition dictates, it is the right of the challenger to take the first spin,” she said. “But first,” Cookie added, her tone shifting slightly, “a reminder of what lies ahead. Each trial will test a different skill and the first to win three of these trials will be named victor.” A murmur rippled through the crowd, the weight of the contest settling in. “Now,” she said, spreading her wings with flair, “let’s begin.”

 She gestured toward the large wheel at the center of the platform, its brightly colored sections gleaming in the early morning light. A knot tightened in Glinda’s stomach. The wheel loomed large in her mind now, its spinning fate a reminder of how little control she had over what would come next. But she had no choice now. She was here, and this was happening.

With a deep breath, Glinda stepped forward. The noise of the crowd fell into a dull buzz in the background as she approached the wheel. The soft thud of her shoes on the wooden platform was the only sound she could focus on. She paused for a moment, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the wheel.

Then, she gripped the handle, her heart pounding in her ears as she gave the wheel a sharp spin. She held her breath, waiting for the wheel to stop, for whatever fate had in store for her. The wheel creaked as it slowed, clicking from one trial to the next until it landed with a heavy thunk on a deep blue segment marked in silver lettering: Wit. Cookie’s voice rang above the hum of anticipation.

“Our first challenge will test the sharpness of the mind. A riddle has been prepared by one of our appointed judges. The first to answer correctly wins the round.”

From the line of judges, an older woman rose. She gestured, and both Glinda and Garrick stepped forward to meet her in the center of the stage, facing one another across a short distance. The crowd hushed as the judge produced a folded paper and carefully opened it, holding it up with both hands. She cleared her throat.

“A farmer needs to transport a wolf, a goat, and a cabbage across a river,” she said, slow and deliberate. “His boat can only carry him and one other item. If left alone, the wolf will eat the goat, and the goat will eat the cabbage.” She lowered the paper and looked between them with a faint, challenging smile. “How can he safely transport all three?”

Garrick was the first to speak, straightening with a smirk.

“Well, that’s easy. You take the goat across first.” He paused, as if expecting immediate praise. “Then you come back and grab the cabbage—no, wait, the wolf, and—” His brow furrowed. “No, then the goat would eat the cabbage.” There was a beat of silence. He cleared his throat and pressed on, his voice louder. “Fine, then. You take the goat first. Come back, and, I mean, frankly, the wolf is a danger to the farm anyway, isn’t it? So I’d kill the wolf. Then it’s easy, you take the cabbage across.”

There were a few chuckles from the crowd, though the judge didn’t laugh.

“Incorrect,” she said mildly, folding the riddle back into her hand. Garrick’s mouth opened in protest, but Glinda had already stepped forward, the wheels in her mind spinning. She repeated the riddle to herself under her breath, visualizing the pieces: goat, wolf, cabbage, boat. Her eyes flicked down to the judge’s hands.

“May I see that?” she asked softly. The judge raised a brow but handed over the paper. Glinda scanned the words again, slower this time. She glanced around, her fingers twitching. “Does anyone have something to write with?”

A kind, older looking man in the front row offered her a pencil. She took it with a grateful smile and walked back to the wheel, using the wooden piece holding it up as a surface to draw on. A tiny diagram took shape. She drew two lines with a box in between as the river and boat, and three small shapes labeled “G,” “W,” and “C.”  She stared at her drawing for a moment.

“He can only carry one item at a time…” she murmured, her voice trailing as she began drawing arrows around the shapes. Then, all at once, it clicked. She never said he couldn’t bring anything back.

She turned back from the wheel, facing the judge, her voice steady.

“He takes the goat across first, then rows back. He brings the wolf next, but when he drops it off, he brings the goat back with him. He leaves the goat and takes the cabbage. Then finally, returns once more for the goat.”

There was a breathless pause. Then, the judge smiled.

“Correct.”

The crowd erupted. Cheers rang out across the square, echoing off the buildings and rising into the sky. Glinda’s eyes searched again for Elphaba, still standing near the edge. Her expression was unreadable for only a moment before it broke into a private, proud smile. She gave Glinda the smallest wink. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and Glinda straightened, holding her chin high.

Beside her, Garrick huffed under his breath and stalked toward the wheel.

“Beginner’s luck,” he muttered as he placed his hands on the wheel and spun. It groaned on its axis as it spun, colors and symbols blurring together.

It began to slow, and this time, it landed on a bright red section: Strength.

Glinda groaned under her breath.

She straightened again as Cookie and the judges gestured for them to step down. The crowd began to shift and follow, a ripple of movement as they trailed behind along a path leading to an open field. The sun was high in the sky, burning bright and hot above them. At one the end of the field, small bales of hay were stacked in a haphazard pile. At the other, two painted sections were marked off—one blue, one red—each roped off with wooden stakes. Cookie raised her voice.

“For this trial of strength, you’ll have thirty minutes to move as many bales of hay from end of the field to your colored zone as possible. You may use whatever tools you find nearby to assist you.” She gestured with a wing to a small scattering of odds and ends: a rusted rake, a cracked wooden bucket, and old, lopsided wheelbarrow.

Garrick cracked his knuckles and gave her a sideways smirk. Glinda let out a slow breath and surveyed the tools. If she could be clever about it, efficient, maybe she stood a chance. She stepped toward the tools, eyeing the wheelbarrow, already forming a plan.

They stood at opposite ends of the hay pile: Glinda across the red zone, Garrick across the blue. The crowd buzzed with excitement around them. Then, Cookie let out a sharp, trilling bird call, signifying the start.

Glinda grabbed the rake, wedging it beneath one of the bales and heaved upward, her breath catching as it lifted. It was heavier than she had expected, but still manageable. She shuffled it into the wheelbarrow with some effort, the old thing creaking beneath the weight. She took hold of the handles and turned—

Just in time to see Garrick jogging past her, a bale hoisted on one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Glinda narrowed her eyes and shoved the wheelbarrow forward, jostling over the uneven field. It tilted dangerously to one side, but she steadied it, her breath shallow as she reached the red zone. She dumped the hay, already feeling the burn in her arms, then turned back.

Garrick was already halfway back to the pile.

The next stretch blurred into a rhythm: lift, push, dump. Glinda worked harder, faster, sweat dampening the back of her shirt and her boots slipping in the grass. But every time she glanced up, Garrick was a bale ahead. Two. Then three.

The crowd cheered louder with each return, but it was clear whom they were cheering for. Still, Glinda didn’t stop.

Just as she reached the red zone with another bale—her arms screaming, her breath ragged—Cookie’s second birdcall rang out sharply across the field. The crowd erupted again as the judges tallied quickly, but there was no need to count closely. The difference was obvious.
“The Trial of Strength goes to Garrick Oathley!” Cookie announced, her voice carrying over the cheers.

Glinda let the handles of the wheelbarrow fall from her hands and sank onto the grass, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. Her arms trembled from the effort, and sweat clung to her skin like a second layer. She looked across the field, Garrick stood tall, smug but composed.

One win each. She swallowed her disappointment. It wasn’t over yet; there were more trials ahead.

After the grueling second trial, Glinda and Garrick were granted a brief respite. They drank water, wiped their brows, and sat in the grass while Cookie and the other judges conferred. Heat from the sun soaked into Glinda’s skin as her breath gradually evened out.

Then, it was time again.

Back at the platform, Glinda stepped forward to spin the wheel. The crowd hushed in anticipation as it clicked past color after color—green, orange, yellow—until it landed on a rich, regal purple.

Charm.

A slow smirk tugged at the corners of Glinda’s lips.

“A trial of charm!” Cookie announced. “A test of charisma and persuasion!”

The crowd murmured with renewed excitement as Cookie led the way, with Glinda and Garrick following behind her. They didn’t go far—just into the heart of town where a row of colorful market stalls had been arranged. Blue and red once again stood side by side beneath flapping banners. At each station sat neat stacks of scented soaps, each bar tied with twine and stamped with a sun motif.

“You each have twenty minutes,” Cookie explained, “to sell as many of these are you can. Same products, same setup, the only difference is you. Whoever earns the most wins.”

Glinda stepped behind the red stall, straightened her posture, and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Her confidence gleamed as she glanced over the soaps she was about to sell. This one was hers.

Cookie let out another high, trilling bird call, and the trial began. Glinda sprang into action with a dazzling smile.

“Only the finest soaps in the district!” she called, waving an arm with theatrical flair. “Lavender oil, milled twice, and gentle enough for the most delicate of elbows.” Whether that was true or not, Glinda had no idea, but the people gathered almost immediately, drawn in by the ease with which she engaged them.

She crouched to speak to a small girl clutching her mother’s skirt, plucked a daisy from behind a garland wound around her stand, and tucked it gently behind the child’s ear. The girl beamed, and the mother bought two soaps. Coins clinked into her basket.

“Excellent choice,” Glinda said warmly to an older man who had just purchased one.

Soon, her red stall was bustling. She barely even glanced at Garrick’s, too caught up in the rhythm of it all. Her words flowed like ribbons, and the crowd smiled and laughed, charmed by her sparkle.

Then, a gasp rippled through the air. Glinda blinked and turned her head.

Garrick had ripped off his shirt. Just shucked it right over his head and let it fall to the ground. His chest glistened with sweat as he struck a pose, flexing both arms beside his head like a sculpted statue. A few women squealed. A man fanned himself with his hat.

“Oh, come on,” Glinda muttered.

As if magnetized, the crowd began to drift like a tide drawn by sheer bicep. A young woman who had just been reaching for her coin purse gave an apologetic shrug and hurried over to Garrick’s stall.

Still, Glinda kept trying. She turned on even more charm, complimenting shawls and winking at an elderly man who was clearly delighted. But by the time Cookie trilled again to signal the end of the trial, her crowd was noticeably thinner.

The judges tallied the coins from both baskets.

“Winner of the Charm trial: Garrick Oathley!”

The crowd clapped and Garrick gave a grin and a small, self-satisfied flex. Glinda rolled her eyes, sinking onto the edge of her stool, her lips pressed into a thin line. Beaten—barely—but beaten all the same.

And just like that, Garrick had her. Two to one.

Chapter Text

The noise was there, but far away, like she was underwater, or behind glass. Cheering, footsteps, something calling her name, none of it pierced through.

Glinda stood still. Her spine was locked straight, her chin tilted just high enough to mimic composure, but every muscle beneath her skin trembled. Her throat felt like it was closing, pulled tight and dry as a drawstring. Her chest ached, every breath shallow and ragged like it hurt to inhale. Her eyes burned from the effort of holding back tears. She wouldn’t cry, not here. Blinking felt dangerous.

She didn’t even hear Cookie at first. Not the words, not really. Just the rhythm: clipped, rehearsed, final. The crowd was being dismissed, sent back to their homes to wait for the trials to continue tomorrow. It was an easy thing for them, a pause in the excitement. But for Glinda, there was no pause. No escape. The trials followed her, the weight pressing down no matter where she went, or what hour it was.

Someone brushed past her, a hand softly grazing her arm, probably meant to be kind. Glinda couldn’t tell. She forced her lips into something like a smile, a small nod, as if she had heard them. As if she were still here and not somewhere else entirely.

Then, her body lurched forward faster than her mind could keep up. She walked—no, escaped, her legs moving too fast, her shoes scraping sharp against the stone. Her breath was catching now, high in her throat, panic blooming in the edges of her vision.

She needed air. She needed to get out.

She didn’t care where she was going, only that it was away. Stone corridors blurred past. Arches, ornate windows, the rustle of skirts and boots and chatter echoing faintly behind her. None of it mattered. She kept her head down, her pace sharp and unyielding, every step like a blow against the floor.

Her chest was too tight. Her lungs wouldn’t fill. The world felt too big, too loud, too close.

She turned a corner. Then another. Her hands clenched at her sides.

And then—

A narrow alleyway opened ahead, wedged between buildings like an afterthought. It was empty. Shadowed. Silent.

Glinda stumbled into it like it had been waiting for her.

She reached the wall and pressed her back against the warm stone. Her fingers scraped at the rough surface, needing something solid, something real. Her breath hitched, catching halfway up her throat. She closed her eyes and tried to pull air into her lungs.

No one could see her here, but still, she didn’t cry.

She slid down slowly, her knees folding beneath her, her skirt crumpling inelegantly around her. The wall scraped against her shoulder as she sank.

By the time she reached the ground, she was shaking. Her breath came in shallow bursts. She braced her palms against the stone beneath her, as if to keep herself from falling apart.

She stared ahead, unblinking.

The silence didn’t comfort her. It pressed in. Too heavy. Too close.

Glinda sat motionless, her back against the wall, her knees drawn up. Her breath was still uneven, catching high in her chest like it had nowhere to go.

She had tried. Oz, she had tried. Every second, she’d forced herself to rise, to wear the weight of everything and smile like it wasn’t crushing her. To believe, even when it felt impossible, that she might be capable of more than what people saw.

And for what?

To lose. Twice. To Garrick, to her own limits, to the quiet, unspoken truth she hadn’t wanted to face until now.

She was never going to win.

Not the respect she thought she could earn. Not the trials. Not Elphaba.

Her throat tightened again. She let her head fall back against the wall.

It had been foolish—no, worse than that. Naive. Naive to think she could step into this world and make it hers. To believe that it would work out the way she wanted just because she wanted it so badly.

She should have known better. And now all she’d down was prove what Garrick and Frexspar and everyone else already suspected: that she wasn’t made for this. That she didn’t belong.

She swallowed hard.

What terrified her most wasn’t the loss itself, it was the slow, sinking realization that maybe this had never been hers to reach for. Maybe she’d never stood a chance. She let out a shaky breath, her eyes unfocused, fixed on the cobblestones in front of her.

How was she ever meant to compete with someone who just had to take his shirt off and flex?

The thought flickered bitterly, she let out a hollow laugh. A spark of humor too sharp at the edges. Her fingers curled against the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles white. She stayed still. Held together by the thinnest thread of pride, too raw to cry, too ashamed to move.

The quiet stretched. Not peaceful, just still. The kind of stillness that came after something had cracked, when there was nothing left to do but sit in the hollow space it left behind.

Glinda barely noticed the sound of footsteps at first. Soft against the stone. Slow. Measured.

Then, a voice.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

She looked up. Elphaba stood at the mouth of the alley, her hands at her side and her gaze steady. She hadn’t come rushing in, she wasn’t dramatic about it. Elphaba had just… found her. Glinda let out a breath, short and humorless.

“Bet you wish you hadn’t found me.”

Elphaba didn’t argue right away. She stepped forward and eased down beside Glinda, her back to the wall, and her legs stretched out in front of her.

“You know that’s not true,” she said simply. The words weren’t soft, exactly, but they were true. Said with that quiet conviction Glinda had always admired.

And it was strange how just her presence slowed the spinning inside Glinda’s chest. The ache didn’t go away, but it dulled. The pressure around her throat loosened. She stared ahead, not quite ready to meet Elphaba’s eyes but she felt the warmth of her beside her—real, unmoving.

And for the first time since she’d challenged Garrick, she could breathe.

They sat like that for a long while. Long enough that the sound of the town started to filter back in. Glinda still hadn’t said anything, but she didn’t have to. Elphaba shifted beside her, just slightly.

“You’re allowed to have a bad day, you know.” Her voice was quiet. Even, but not gentle. There was something steadier underneath, like she wasn’t offering comfort so much as reminding Glinda. “You’re losing. Fine. So what? You’re still standing. You still have a shot, and that’s all you’ve ever needed.” Glinda turned her head, just enough to glance at her, her eyes welling up again, her jaw tight. Elphaba met her gaze, unwavering. “You are more than the loss today.” She let that hang for a beat. Then added, her voice lower, “And I love you too much to sit back and watch you give up.”

Something in Glinda’s chest cracked—not like breaking, but like letting light in. Because Elphaba wasn’t just saying it, she meant it. Every word. And maybe, maybe that could be enough.

Glinda didn’t say anything. She just moved.

It was sudden, almost graceless. Her body finally gave in to everything it had been holding back. She turned toward Elphaba and buried herself in her, her arms around her waist, her face pressed into the curve of her neck. Elphaba didn’t flinch. She just wrapped an arm around her and held her there, anchoring her.

A few hot tears slipped free. The kind that came when the pressure inside finally cracked. Glinda’s body trembled with the effort of release, her breaths were uneven, her chest rising and falling in sharp, soft waves. Elphaba’s hand found hers, pulling them from her waist and threading their fingers together. She gave a small, steady squeeze.

“You are not weak,” she said, low into Glinda’s hair. “You are not shallow. You’re not foolish or fragile or any of the things you tell yourself when you’re alone.” Her hand tightened, just slightly. “You’re brilliant. And terrifying. And stubborn as all hell. You work harder than anyone I know. You lead with your heart, even when it costs you. And you are still in this fight.” Another squeeze. “You can do this.”

For a moment, the words just sat there between them, quiet and true. Then Elphaba shifted slightly, lowering her voice in mock thoughtfulness.

“Though for the record I’d have rather seen you shirtless.” Glinda let out a breath that caught halfway between a sob and a laugh. She pulled back just enough to look at her, watery-eyed and incredulous. Elphaba smirked. “Not in front of a crowd, obviously,” she added with a huff. “I do have some restraint.”

Glinda laughed again—really laughed this time. It cracked through the tension in her chest like a sunrise, and Elphaba just looked at her, steady, like she’d known it was coming all along. Glinda looked back at her like she was seeing her for the first time all over again.

“You’re the only one who makes me feel like I’m not pretending,” she said, her voice low and her eyes softening. Elphaba didn’t answer right away, her hand remained in Glinda’s, her thumb tracing once across her knuckles before going still.

“Well,” she said, quiet and calm. “You’ll always have me.”

Glinda’s heart kicked hard against her ribs. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The alley felt too still, too sharp. She could’ve stayed there forever, but the moment couldn’t last. So, she gave Elphaba a playful shove, light and easy.

“Okay,” she said, forcing her smile to stay casual. “You should go. Before someone catches you fraternizing with me.”

“Fraternizing, huh?” Elphaba raised a brow.

“Scandalocious, I know,” Glinda said, brushing at her cheeks like she hadn’t just been crying.

Elphaba stood, hesitating only a second before slipping her hand free. She didn’t say goodbye. She just looked down at her one last time, that same unreadable softness in her eyes, then turned and walked back the way she came.

Glinda watched her go, the ache in her chest no longer sharp, but quiet. Manageable.

She stayed seated for a while after Elphaba left, the warm stone pressing into her back, the air finally still. No crowd. No noise. Just the sound of her own breathing, slower now. Steadier.

Tomorrow, it would begin again. Her final chance to rid Elphaba of her father’s arrangement. The only chance they had left to be together.

She let that settle in her bones, not as a panic, but as a promise.

Then, with a quiet exhale, Glinda pressed a hand to the wall and pushed herself upright. Her legs ached and her chest still felt raw, but she stood. And when she finally stepped out of the alley, she didn’t look back.

Glinda woke up before the sun, her stomach a tight knot of anticipation. She lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the nerves settle around in her in an unwelcome fog. She knew she couldn’t linger there, giving it time to tighten its grip.

Eventually, she swung her legs over the side and stood, dressing carefully. The rhythm of small rituals steadied her. She stepped into the hall, a faint emptiness low in her stomach tugging at her attention—a reminder that today demanded strength.

She stepped lightly into the breakfast room, half hoping the door would creak and warn away any company. It didn’t. The room greeted her with stillness. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, warming the edges of the long table and catching in the steam rising from the untouched pot of tea. No one had arrived yet. Not Frexspar with his sermons disguised as conversation, not Garrick and his brother with their jabs that somehow always found their mark. Just silence, and the faint scent of toast.

She exhaled. Maybe this morning, for a moment, she could simply be.

And then, her gaze drifted to the far end of the room where, nearly lost in the stretch of empty chairs, Nessa sat poised in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her breakfast plate was untouched. Glinda paused in the entryway. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be up so early. She crossed the room quietly.

“You’re up early.”

“So are you.” Nessa looked away from the window, meeting Glinda’s eyes and giving her a warm smile. Glinda pulled out the chair across from her and sat, smoothing her skirt as she settled in. The quiet between them lingered comfortably.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be here,” Glinda said after a moment.

“I could say the same,” Nessa replied. Her eyes flicked toward Glinda’s, sharp but unreadable. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes to rise before the sun.” Glinda let out a breath, and her lips tugged at the corners in a half-smile.

“I’m not,” she said. Glinda glanced toward the window. The sunlight had climbed just high enough to touch the rim of the teapot, turning the porcelain gold. “Truthfully, I’m nervous,” she said simply. She looked back at Nessa, meeting her eyes. “I’m behind, I know that, and I’m not willing to lose.” Nessa didn’t nod, didn’t soften. She just watched her for a moment, quiet as the rest of the room.

“Well, you’ve got more spine than Garrick, if that’s worth anything.” Nessa’s gaze didn’t waver. Glinda blinked, startled into a laugh.

“I—thank you?” she said, still smiling. “That was… unexpectedly direct.”

“I’ve had enough of listening to him talk strategy with his brother like this is war,” Nessa said, dry. “As if you’re some kind of—what did he say? ‘Polished puppet with a pretty face.’” Glinda’s smile froze. A muscle ticked in her jaw, her eyes narrowing like a cat smelling prey.

“He said that?”

“Not in those words exactly. But that was the gist.” Nessa shrugged.

“That’s rich coming from a boy who’s never earned a thing in his life—he can’t even grow a beard to hide that hideodious excuse for a jawline.”

Nessa let out a bright, surprised laugh that echoed in the high-ceilinged room. Glinda couldn’t help but laugh too, her shoulders loosening as it slipped out.

Nessa was quiet for a moment, watching the last of the steam curl off her tea.

“You know,” she said finally, “I once heard Garrick refer to himself as a martyr of modern love.” Glinda blinked.

“He didn’t.”

“Oh, he did. Full chest. Said he had no choice but to sacrifice his personal desires in favor of duty and political longevity. Like that’s not just a fancier way of admitting he’s a coward.” Glinda let out a laugh, caught somewhere between a cough and a snort.

The knot in her stomach loosened, as if Nessa had plucked a thread and given it a sharp, necessary tug. Glinda looked down at her hands, then up at Nessa again. Her throat gave a little tug of its own, and she exhaled a soft, weighted sigh.

“I don’t think I ever properly thanked you,” she said quietly. “For helping set all this in motion. The trials. Everything.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Nessa said, lifting her chin and accepting the words with a quiet kind of grace. “But you’re welcome.” She paused a moment longer, her eyes searching Glinda’s face. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said finally, the wheels of her chair squeaking softly as she turned. “You’ve got a big day ahead.”

Glinda watched her go, a small smile on her lips. She took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and let the quiet settle around her.

The coach rocked slightly as it rolled to a stop. Glinda adjusted her collar with deliberate care, more for something to do than any real need. Through the window, she could already hear the swell of voices, the unmistakable hum of a crowd gathering with purpose.

She stepped down from the coach and into the thick of it.

The town square was alive and full, people pressing close to the edge of the cobblestones chatting and craning their necks for a better view of the platform ahead. There were signs in hands, pins on lapels, colorful banners strung between buildings.

The air felt charged. Buzzing.

Glinda kept her chin high, but her fingers curled slightly at her sides, anchoring herself against the rush of it all.

Then, a weight settled into her hand—familiar, certain, and steady. Warm fingers laced through hers and gave the gentlest squeeze. She closed her eyes, just for a breath, just long enough to feel it.

By the time she opened them, Elphaba was gone. Or, no, not gone. Up ahead, already weaving through the crowd, her dark head a flicker of motion against the sunlight.

Glinda didn’t call after her, she just moved forward, her steps measured. Smiles found her as she passed, the crowd spreading around her and allowing her through. With each step, the noise seemed to fade. It was no less loud, but no less important either. A thread pulled taut, now held steady, she wasn’t walking into this alone.

She was ready.

The stage loomed ahead, its wooden steps already polished by the feet of those who had climbed them before her. The wheel still stood at the center, tall and imposing. Garrick was already there. He turned as she approached, the grin on his face easy and self-assured. Too easy. Like he’d already seen the ending and knew he was in it.

Glinda couldn’t wait to wipe that smile off his face.

She stepped onto the stage without a word, met his eyes, and let her gaze travel down and back up again—measured, unimpressed. Then she looked away and continued walking, as if he weren’t even worth the effort.

The crowd surged as Glinda took her place on the platform. Somewhere behind them a bell rang, bright and ceremonial. Then Cookie fluttered into view.

Her wings flared dramatically as she landed atop the post beside the wheel, her tail feathers twitching. She took a moment, preening for effect, before raising her voice to the crowd.

“Welcome, welcome!” she chimed. “We’ve come to the final day of the trials!”

A chorus of cheers rang out, mixed with a few shouts of names from the crowd. Cookie basked in it.

“As it stands,” she trilled, “we’ve got Garrick Oathley in the lead with two wins, Glinda Upland trailing behind with one, and one trial still in the air.” She flapped her wings once, her eyes gleaming. “Can she make a comeback? Or will our favorite feather-haired heir walk away with the crown?”

More cheering, some of it uncertain. Glinda stood still, letting the wind whip at the hem of her skirt. Garrick rocked back on his heels, grinning like he’d already won. Cookie gave the wheel a sharp rap with her beak.

“Let’s not waste time, shall we? Oathley—you’re up.”

Garrick stepped forward, all performative charm, and gripped the wheel with one hand. With a flourish, he spun it.

The crowd hushed as the wheel spun, clicking around and around.

It slowed, and the pointer wavered. It landed on a squarely black panel. No title. No symbol. No hint. Just empty space. Glinda’s brow creased. For a moment, she thought something had gone wrong, like the wheel had skipped past a real option. But no one moved to correct it.

A chill pricked at the back of her neck. Her fingers twitched at her sides as the fine hairs along her arms lifted.

The crowd had gone still, like it too was holding its breath. Then Cookie let out a delighted squawk.

“How very interesting.” Her feathers lifted with glee. “It looks like we’ve landed on the wildcard.”

The crowd rippled with murmurs. Cookie tapped the panel with one clawed talon.

“The wildcard,” she repeated, her voice dropping theatrically. “The only card where the decision is taken out of the judges’ hands and placed into more… discerning ones.”

She preened, letting that sink in. The chill on Glinda’s neck returned.

“For this trial, our contestants will not perform for the crowd. Instead, they’ll journey to the home of a private couple—chosen in advance by the judges. This couple will test them, question them, evaluate them, and declare a winner before the sun begins to set.”

A ripple of excitement ran through the square.

“No crowd. No scores. No audience to impress.” Cookie tilted her head with a mischievous glint. “Just two very strange people who have been waiting a very long time for a bit of excitement.”

She turned to Glinda and Garrick, sweeping one wing toward the edge of the platform.

“You’ll be briefed along the way. Good luck!” she said before turning back to the crowd. “The rest of you darlings,” she chirped lightly. “Don’t wander too far! The final verdict will be delivered right here!”

Glinda stood at the edge of the Porridge property, staring at the absolute mess that was their yard. Overgrown grass, tangled weeds, and what looked like a half-collapsed chicken coop cluttered the perimeter. A battered garden gnome—one of several—leered at her from the steps, its chipped paint and missing hat giving it a silly look.

She blew out a breath, steeling herself. She’d come this far, after all. One more trial. Well, two technically, but this one felt like the real test. Garrick loitered behind her, his arms crossed, his expression a mixture of impatience and boredom. She had to win this one, or everything would slip right through her fingers.

The rules were simple, if a bit humiliating: she and Garrick had to complete any task the Porridges asked of them, no matter how small or strange. And the Porridges would be the ones to decide the winner.

She squared her shoulders. Garrick muttered something under his breath about fools having too much time. Glinda ignored him.

The front door swung open. Out bounded a man with a shock of white hair that stuck up in every direction, his grin wide enough to split his face in half. He bounced forward, his hand outstretched like he’d been waiting all day just to greet them.

“Welcome! I’m Gil,” he boomed, grabbing Glinda’s hand and pumping it up and down with alarming enthusiasm.

“Glinda,” she said in greeting. Gil turned behind him beckoning forth a woman, her white hair tied back in a ragged bun.

“And this is Mattie,” he said.

Mattie appeared behind him, wiping her hands on her apron, her smile every bit as bright as Gil’s.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she chirped.

Gil turned to Garrick, offering the same eager handshake. Garrick hesitated just long enough to show he thought the whole thing was beneath him before grasping Gil’s hand.

“Garrick,” he muttered, his smile tight and his eyes darting around like he was looking for the exit. Glinda fought a smile. Gil’s energy was infectious, and Mattie’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Well,” Mattie said, folding her hands. “We’ve got a bit of a… situation. My favorite—” She paused, glancing at Glinda and then at Garrick. “Sir Puddlefingers has gone missing in the garden. He’s terribly special to me, and I simply can’t rest until he’s found.”

Glinda’s brow furrowed. A cat? A dog? Mattie waved her hands toward the yard, her eyes wide.

“He’s somewhere out there, I just know it. All we need is for one of you to find him.”

“And while you’re at it,” Gil clapped his hands together, “maybe trim back some of the overgrowth. The place has gotten away from us a bit.”

Glinda nodded, and Garrick snorted under his breath, rolling his eyes. Gil’s face fell for the briefest moment before brightening again.

“Wonderful! Off you go then, and please be cautious, Mattie’s daisies are off-limits!”

Glinda blew a stand of hair out of her face and stepped to the tangle of weeds with a determined glint in her eye. She had a feeling Sir Puddlefingers wasn’t going to show himself easily, but she wasn’t about to give up. She reached for the pruning shears Gil had handed her, testing their squeaky hinges with a quick snip.

Beside her, Garrick brandished a rusty rake like it was a weapon. He gave the nearest bush a halfhearted swipe, hacking at it more than trimming. Mattie stood at the edge of the porch, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her hands clasped together. “You know, Gil and I have been together for nearly fifty years. Can you imagine? That’s a lot of time to share a garden.”

“That’s wonderful,” Glinda said, smiling brightly. She snipped at a particularly unruly vine. “You must have some stories.” Gil grinned.

“Oh, we’ve got plenty. Ask us anything!”

Glinda laughed and took them up on it. As she worked, she asked about their first date, which had a pie-eating contest, and their wedding where the officiant was so drunk he forgot the vows.

Glinda’s hands moved quickly, trimming branches, gently parting leaves as if she were searching for a shy kitten. Every so often she’d say, “excuse me,” to a drooping flower as she brushed past, careful not to step on Mattie’s beloved daisies.

Garrick, meanwhile, stomped through the weeds like a bull. He grumbled under his breath about plants and yanked at a stubborn vine, nearly falling backward when it didn’t budge.

“Be careful around those roses!” Mattie called, her voice lifting with concern. Garrick shot her a tight-lipped smile, muttering something else under his breath that Glinda didn’t quite catch.

Glinda continued working her way through the weeds, gently parting leaves and brushing aside vines. Every time she trimmed a branch, she paused to brush off the debris, careful to keep her pile neat. Mattie and Gil hovered at the edge of the garden, offering advice and stories like a pair of overexcited tour guides.

“Oh, you missed a patch there, dear,” Mattie called out. Glinda smiled, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Of course, Mattie,” she said. “They’re beautiful.”

“Better than hacking them to bits!” Gil retorted, shooting a glance at Garrick, who was indeed hacking away at a bush like it had personally offended him.

“It’s a plant, not a person,” Garrick snorted, the rake in his hands looking more like a weapon than a gardening tool. Gil ignored the tension and clapped his hands together.

“Say, while you’re both here, can we ask you something?” Gil asked. Glinda paused, brushing a leaf from her cheek.

“Of course,” she said brightly. Mattie leaned forward, her eyes twinkling.

“Tell us about the betrothed! What’s she like?”

Glinda’s heart lifted at the mention of Elphaba. She glanced at Mattie and Gil, who were watching her with open curiosity.

“She’s… she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Glinda said softly, her voice warming with every word. “We met at school. We didn’t get along first; she was always so… different. Always preferring her books to company. But then…” She trailed off, her eyes distant as a smile curved her lips. “Something changed, and I started to realize maybe different was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Mattie clutched her hands together.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” she cooed. “And you’re sure about her, are you?” Glinda nodded, a flush rising in her cheeks.

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

“That’s the sort of thing that lasts.” Gil gave her a nod.

Garrick, meanwhile, had stopped mid-swing, his expression caught between discomfort and forced cheer. He cleared his throat and shifted his grip on the rake.

“Well,” he began, “I only met her not that long ago. She was… polite enough, but honestly, she didn’t seem that interested in getting to know me.” He gave an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “And, well, I guess I just didn’t expect her to be green, you know?” Mattie’s mouth fell open.

“Green?” she repeated, her voice sharp with disbelief.

“That’s the best you can say about her?” Gil asked, his brows knitted. Garrick’s smile faltered.

“I just mean she’s… different. That’s all.”

“She’s lovely,” Glinda said, her voice calm but firm. She met Mattie’s eyes, then Gil’s. “And beautiful. I wouldn’t want her any other way.”

“Well said, miss. Well said,” Gil responded.

Glinda bent down to tackle another stubborn path of weeds, her heart steady with a new determination. They continued working their way through the overgrowth, the sun hot above their heads. Garrick hacked at the weeds with barely retrained impatience, his movements harsh and careless. Glinda, on the other hand, worked more methodically, pulling weeds by the root.

“So,” Garrick grumbled, wiping sweat from his brow. “Who exactly is this ‘Sir Puddlewhiskers’ or whatever?” He glanced at Mattie with an exasperated expression. Mattie brightened instantly.

“Oh! Sir Puddlefingers is my favorite gnome! He’s got the sweetest face and the roundest belly, and he always guards the garden. I couldn’t possibly rest until I’ve found him.”

“A gnome?” Garrick let out a sharp laugh and swung his rake a bit too forcefully, slicking right through a patch of daisies. “Well, maybe he’s hiding under these—” Mattie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

“My daisies!” she cried, her eyes filling with tears. Garrick’s face fell.

“Oh—Mattie, I didn’t—” He tried to gather the stems with clumsy hands, but they slipped through his fingers. “I—I didn’t mean to—” Mattie’s lips quivered, and she shook her head.

“I—I can’t—” she stammered, and then turned and fled toward the house, her skirt swishing behind her. Garrick let out a long, frustrated breath and tossed the broken daisies aside.

“Damn it all,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. Glinda dropped to her knees, gathering the trampled daisies with careful fingers.

“We might still be able to save them,” she murmured, cradling them like fragile glass. Gil watched them both with a knowing look, his eyes crinkling with quiet judgment.

“She loves those flowers,” he said softly. Glinda looked up, dirt smudging her cheek but her expression calm.

“I’ll see what I can do.” She turned to Garrick, her voice gentle but firm, “just keep looking. I’m going to see if I can salvage these.”

Garrick grunted something that might have been agreement and stomped off to continue his search. Glinda stayed kneeling in the dirt, carefully picking through the bruised petals and torn stems, her movements slow and deliberate. She tried to calm the tremor of frustration in her chest; tried to think of something, anything, that might fix this. She brushed her thumb over one of the daisies, its white petals bent but still lovely.

Gently, she started weaving the broken stems together. The process was clumsy at first—it had been some time since she’d made a flower crown—but the rhythm of it soothed her. Each petal folded into place with the next, a small act of quiet defiance against the mess around her.

“Ridiculous,” Garrick’s voice cut across the yard, low and muttering. “Looking for a gnome,” he spat, hacking through the overgrowth with a swing of his rake.

Glinda didn’t respond. She held the crown up, tilting her head as she examined the weaving, and gave a small hopeful smile. Even in its imperfection, it was something. She set the crown in her lap and glanced at Gil.

“She might like this,” she said softly, almost as though she was afraid to hope. Gil’s eyes crinkled.

“She will,” he said. He turned and headed toward the house, calling gently, “Mattie? Could you come out here a moment?”

A pause. The screen door creaked open, and Mattie stepped out onto the porch, her face still flushed from her earlier tears. She clutched the railing, hesitant, but when she saw Glinda holding the daisy crown, her expression softened.

“Oh,” she breathed, her voice trembling between laughter and tears. “Is that…?” Glinda stood up, brushing dirt from her skirt.

“It’s for you,” she said, offering the crown with both hands. “I thought… well, maybe it would help.” Mattie’s lips curved into a trembling smile, her eyes bright.

“That’s very sweet,” she said, taking the crown and holding it to her chest. “Thank you, dear.”

Before Glinda could reply, a rustling sound came from deeper in the garden. Garrick emerged, his hair damp with sweat, and a few scratches along his arms. In his hands, he held a weathered, dirt-smeared gnome.

“I found him,” he announced, his voice breathless but triumphant. “He was wedged under a pile of old tomato vines.” Mattie’s gaze flickered to the gnome, and then back to the daisy crown in her hands. She managed a polite smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

Garrick’s smile faltered just slightly, and he glanced at Glinda and the flower crown she’d made. Gil’s eyes moved between the three of them, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. After a moment, he clapped his hands together.

“Well,” he said brightly. “I think we’ve all earned ourselves a glass of lemonade, and maybe a slice of Mattie’s peach cake, if we’re lucky. Why don’t we head inside and you two can clean up, and we can refresh ourselves?” Glinda let out a relieved breath, smiling despite the smudges of dirt on her face.

“That sounds lovely,” she said, her voice warm and genuine. Garrick let out a low grunt of agreement, his eyes darting between the gnome in his hands and the daisy crown in Mattie’s.

And with that, Gil led the way back to the house, with the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the tangled garden.

Elphaba had been standing in the town square for what felt like hours, though time had a way of stretching itself into endless loops whenever she couldn’t see Glinda. The air carried a faint tang of dust, and the sun overhead beat down with the kind of intensity that made even the simplest conversation feel heavy.

Cookie had taken up her usual place near the low wooden stage, calling for volunteers to step up and tell stories while everyone waited. A small crowd had gathered closer to the stage. There were families with children perched on knees, older townsfolk with their hands folded in their laps, and a few young ones pushing through for better views. Every now and then a new voice rose—a farmer describing the harvest, a trader recounting the time a horse had thrown him and he’d broken both arms, a child’s breathless tale of a lost cat found in a haystack. It was a familiar ritual, and a way to fill the anxious silence while the fourth trial was underway.

Elphaba hovered at the edge of the crowd, feeling out of place. She’d never been comfortable with small talk, but that hadn’t stopped people from trying to engage her. After all, she was the one caught in the middle of this, with her father’s arrangement with Garrick on one side, and Glinda’s challenge on the other. So people felt they had a right to her opinions: Did she think the fourth trial would be as difficult as the others? Who did she think would win? Did she want Garrick to succeed, or was she secretly rooting for Glinda? Each question carried its own quiet weight; a polite curiosity laced with gossip.

She answered in short, awkward sentences, never quite giving them what they wanted. Every word felt like either a trap or an invitation to say something she shouldn’t. She’d never been as quick with people as Glinda, never known how to put others at ease or deflect an uncomfortable question with a smile. And so, one by one, the townsfolk began to drift away, leaving her alone in a small circle of uneasy silence.

She didn’t mind. It was easier that way.

A nervous farmhand who stumbled through an account of lost sheep had just finished when Cookie bustled forward, her voice carrying over the crowd.

“Alright, enough stories for now,” she called, waving a wing. “Make room, everyone, they’re back.”

A hush fell over the crowd like a dropped curtain as Glinda, Garrick, and an old couple approached the stage. The woman had her hair tied in a bun, and a crown of daisies wrapped around her head, and the man wore a battered hat that failed to hide his white hair sticking out the sides. The Norridges’ or something, Elphaba couldn’t remember.

“Welcome back,” Cookie said, her voice brisk. “Now, let’s have you two come forward and tell us what happened.” The man adjusted his hat, sending a feather askew, and gave the crowd a wide, eager grin.

“I’m Gil,” he said, his voice warm and unsteady, “and this is my wife, Mattie.” He gave her a look that was equal parts fond and proud. Mattie stepped forward, her hands clasped at her waist.

“We know most of you think of us as the eccentric couple on the hill,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Maybe you think we only know about gardening, or collecting odds and ends, or cooking up who-knows-what.” She paused, scanning the crowd with a small smile. “But if there’s one thing we do know, it’s love.”

A hush fell over the square, soft and sudden. Even Cookie’s beak twitched with the briefest hint of a smile. Elphaba’s chest tightened, and her breath was shallow. That single word—love—crackled in the air like a spark. After a moment, Gil shifted slightly, giving his wife’s hand a quick squeeze before picking up.

“We’ve been married for nearly fifty years,” he said, his voice catching just a little. “And it’s not always easy—”

“No, it’s not,” Mattie jumped in, nodding, “There’s days where I want to run off to the next town or strangle the fool.” Gil laughed, his eyes crinkling with genuine affection.

“But the one thing that’s always been easy, is choosing each other.”

A ripple went through the crowd, a collective sigh and a few quiet smiles. Even the wind seemed to pause, caught up in the sweetness of the moment.

Elphaba’s gaze drifted to Glinda, standing just behind them. A gentle breeze lifted a strand of her hair, sending it fluttering across her cheek. She brushed it aside absently, but Elphaba couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her heart gave a painful twist, a sudden, sharp ache. Glinda was impossibly beautiful in that moment—sunlight catching the gold in her hair, her eyes bright and searching.

For a breathless second, the world seemed to hold its breath too.

“I know you’re all wondering who won the trial,” Gil said, his voice carrying a weight that made Elphaba’s heart lurch. Mattie let out a little hum, pressing her hand to her chest. “See, our garden’s a right mess.”

“We had them search through the overgrowth for my favorite gnome, Sir Puddlefingers. He’s a tricky one, that gnome, always getting himself lost.” Mattie said, her smile turning fond.

“They spent a lot of time out there,” Gil added. “And we spent a good deal watching them both. We spent a lot of time out there with them, talking, learning about them, seeing who they really were.”

“And it was Garrick who found Sir Puddlefingers,” Mattie said, letting the name hang in the air like a stone dropped in a pond.

Elphaba’s breath caught. She felt the whole world tilt, like all the air had been sucked from the square, leaving her cold.

But then, Gil laid a comforting hand on Mattie’s shoulder, and she continued.

“But it was Glinda,” she said, her voice gentle, “who showed us the heart we’d want to trust. The kind of heart that takes care of people.” She paused for a moment to look at Gil. “Even ones others might overlook.” Gil reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gestured toward Glinda.

“It’s her caring nature that showed us who the better suitor is.”

Elphaba’s vision blurred for a moment, a rush of relief so fierce it nearly knocked her to her knees.

“So, we choose Glinda,” Mattie raised her voice, “as the winner of the fourth trial.”

A cheer went up around them, and Elphaba fought to keep her composure, pressing her hands tightly together to stop herself from flinging them in the air in wild triumph. Her heart hammered, and her chest so tight she thought it might burst. Elphaba’s gaze locked on Glinda. For a heartbeat, Glinda stood perfectly still, her eyes wide and her lips parted in shock, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

Then, with a bright laugh that carried over the noise, she rushed forward and threw her arms around Mattie and Gil. Elphaba couldn’t hear what she said over the roar of the crowd, but she could see it in the way Glinda’s shoulders relaxed, the way her mouth moved in a breathless thank you.

The cheering seemed to stretch on forever, and Elphaba let herself get swept up in it. A fierce, joyous relief coursed through her veins like lightning. Glinda had won this one. She was still in it. The challenge wasn’t over.

Cookie fluttered forward, her wings waving with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“All right, all right, settle down now!” she trilled, and the crowd’s energy slowly crackled into an expectant hush. Mattie and her husband gave Glinda a last nod and then slipped off the stage, leaving Cookie front and center. “Well, folks,” she paused, letting the tension build. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a tie!”

Gasps rippled through the square, followed by a fresh wave of excited cheers.

“Who’s it gonna be?” Cookie called, her voice rising over the crowd. “The merchant from Glikkus?” She swept a wing dramatically toward Garrick, whose smile looked more forced than confident. “Or the caring girl from Frottica?” Her wing shot toward Glinda, who smiled at the crowd, still going with surprise and excitement.

The crowd’s roar rose higher, and Elphaba’s chest tightened. Cookie lifted her wings to hush them again.

“Time to found out! Glinda, dear, come spin the wheel for a tiebreaker!”

Glinda stepped forward, her fingers curling around the wooden handle of the wheel. Elphaba held her breath, her gaze fixed on Glinda’s hand.

The wheel spun, colors blurring together. Yellow, green, purple, blue, each was a mystery.

Finally, it clattered to a halt, the pointer clicking decisively on a pink board. Cookie, leaned in, her voice sharp with glee.

“The Trial of the Cow!” she announced.

Elphaba’s pulse quickened. The Trial of the Cow? She searched Glinda’s face, but her expression was unreadable. What that meant, she had no clue. Something messy, she guessed, something difficult.

A shiver of dread skittered down her spine. Her stomach twisted. Whatever this trial was, Elphaba had no doubt Glinda would rise to the challenge, she always did.

Elphaba leaned against the fence, her arms folded tight across her chest. The trial grounds stretched out before her: two broad pastures marked with red and blue flags, separated by a wooden gate that creaked in the breeze. The cows, grazing in the grass, stood in the red-flagged pen, oblivious to the hush that had fallen over the crowd.

She’d listened to the rules earlier, but they kept turning over in her mind. Each suitor had to drive the cows from one enclosure to the other as quickly as possible. No harm to the animals, but any means short of that were fair game. Simple enough in theory.

Garrick stood a few paces away, checking the buckle on his horse’s saddle with the easy confidence of someone who’d never questioned whether he belonged. A merchant’s son, she reminded herself. He hadn’t grown up on a farm any more than she had. And yet, he looked like he did. He was tall, composed, not a single strand of hair out of place. A rope coiled neatly at his hip, a polished whistle in his hand. The way he moved made her skin prickle. He was too calm. Too ready. Like he’d already won.

Her gaze flicked to Glinda, who stood further down the fence line, her arms folded in front of her, and her head high despite the whispers drifting through the crowd. No horse. No tools. Just the steady, unwavering posture that somehow seemed braver than any amount of gear. Elphaba had never seen Glinda on a farm, though she recalled there being pastures where she grew up. She doubted Glinda had ever stepped foot on one, but maybe, just maybe she’d surprise everyone.

Or maybe she’d be humiliated. Elphaba’s stomach clenched at the thought.

She shifted, biting the inside of her cheek as she glanced back at Garrick. The sun caught the polished leather of his boots and the curve of his jaw, painting him in a warm light that made her stomach twist. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it. And that unsettled her more than if he’d shown even a flicker of doubt.

A hush fell over the crowd as Garrick settled into his saddle. He shifted his weight once, adjusting the rope at his hip, then gave a small nod to Cookie, who perched on the fence post, her feathers fluffed and head cocked. She let out a slow squawk, her chest rising.

“Let the trial begin!” she declared, her voice clear and commanding.

Garrick hesitated, his lips pressed tight. Then he leaned forward in the saddle and whistled, a sharp, practiced sound. His horse’s ears flicked and it stepped forward, its hooves crunching softly in the grass. The cows lifted their heads, their ears twitching. A few began to shift, but none too hurried.

Garrick’s hand twitched on the reins. For a moment, Elphaba saw the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his grip, the way he didn’t quite know what to do next. Then he brought the whistle to his mouth, letting out a louder trill than before; this one cutting through the hush like a blade, and the cows began to move. Slowly at first, then with more urgency as a few started to drift in the wrong direction.

A grin flickered across Garrick’s face. He straightened in the saddle, emboldened by their movement. But the cows were headed the wrong way, toward the fence and the cluster of onlookers. A few in the crowd laughed nervously as the animals pressed close, their tails flicking in confusion.

Elphaba’s arms tightened around her chest. Garrick’s confidence seemed to teeter on the edge of panic, but he masked it well. He nudged the horse into a trot, circling wide to cut off the herd. A quick shout—sharp, abrupt—sent the cows stumbling in the opposite direction with wide eyes. The horse danced beneath him, responding to each shift of his weight. It was chaotic and uncoordinated, but it worked.

She pressed her lips together, watching as he tried to gain control of the milling herd. The horse’s hooves kicked up small puffs of dirt. Garrick’s posture was tight, his eyes focused. He’d look like he knew what he was doing to anyone who didn’t know better. A knot coiled tight in Elphaba’s chest.

The minutes dragged on, each second stretching taut as a wire. Garrick eventually found his rhythm. His shouts grew more confident, the horse’s steps more precise. He circled them with a mix of caution and determination, the rope swinging at his side, though he rarely used it. The cows, still bewildered, responded as small groups shifted toward the gate, a few at a time.

A cheer went up from the crowd when he guided the bulk of the herd through the gate. They thundered into the blue-flagged enclosure in a wave of bodies, leaving just a handful of stragglers behind. Garrick’s jaw clenched as he turned the horse, his eyes scanning the field. One by one, he picked them off, circling and pushing, his lips pressed in a tight line. Each success seemed to feed his confidence, his posture tall and proud.

Then, only one cow remained—a hulking brown bull, its ears flicking back and forth as if it could sense his frustration. Garrick let out an exasperated breath and whistled sharply, but the cow merely shifted its weight, unimpressed. He swung the rope half-heartedly, but it fell short, a sloppy loop that barely grazed the air. A flush rose in his cheeks, and he exhaled hard before swinging his leg over the saddle and dropping to the ground.

He tried a gentle push, but the cow only shifted its weight again, stubborn as a stone. Garrick’s lips thinned, his patience worn. With a quick, frustrated huff, he lifted his hand and gave the cow a sharp slap on its hind.

Elphaba winced. Her chest tightened, her cheeks flushing hot. She dug her nails into her palms as a bitter taste rose in the back of her throat. The cow bellowed in protest but lurched forward and Garrick wasted no time. He swung back into the saddle, urging the horse into a brisk trot. He guided the cow forward, triumphantly, through the gate and into the blue-flagged enclosure.

Applause broke from the crowd, and Garrick raised one hand in a half-wave, his grin bright and confident. Elphaba’s arms dropped to her sides, her fingers trembling faintly. He’d finished. The applause faded to a murmur as one of the judges stepped forward, his clipboard in hand.

“Forty-three minutes,” he announced, his voice carrying over the fence.

A ripple of impressed murmurs ran through the crowd. A few people even whistled in approval. Elphaba’s stomach sank; she hadn’t expected him to do that well. Her heart skipped a beat, tightness spreading through her chest in a slow burn.

The judge stepped away, and the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the field in a warm, honeyed glow. Shadows stretched across the grass, softening the sharp edges of the wooden fence.

“Glinda,” Cookie called out as she fluffed her feathers. “Step forward, please.”

The crowd hushed, eyes turning like one toward Glinda. Her hair caught the light like gold, each curl luminous. She didn’t hurry. Her steps were measured, almost graceful as she crossed the grass toward the red-flagged enclosure. Elphaba’s breath hitched. Glinda’s hands were empty. No rope, no tools, not even a stick.

What was she doing?

Glinda reached the fence, pausing for a moment as if testing its strength. Then, with a fluid motion, she climbed up, settling herself on the top board. Her posture was easy and confident, like she was simply waiting for a train rather than about to move an entire herd of cows.

Elphaba’s fingers dug deep into her palms; her jaw was tight enough to ache. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Glinda turned her head slowly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. Then she looked to Cookie, her face calm, and gave a single nod.

Elphaba’s pulse faltered.

What in the name of Oz was she doing?

A hush settled over the field—thick and expectant. Even the breeze seemed to pause, holding its breath.

Elphaba’s lungs were pulled tight, the air too thick to draw. She watched, every muscle tensed, unable to look away.

Then, Glinda opened her mouth and started to sing.

It was soft at first, barely more than a ripple of sound that drifted across the hush. But then it rose, clear and true. Elphaba recognized the song as their alma mater.

A chill ran down Elphaba’s spine. She’d heard Glinda humming sometimes, half-singing under her breath in their dorm or between classes, but never like this. The melody shimmered in the evening air, each note catching in the glow of the sun and holding it, radiant and warm.

Elphaba’s breath hitched as she glanced toward the cows. A few had lifted their heads, their ears pricked and their eyes fixed on Glinda. A slow, incredulous smile threatened the edges of Elphaba’s mouth. Her pulse thudded hard, heat rising up her neck.

She watched as Glinda eased herself off the fence, her skirt settling around her like a pool of gold. With a lightness that seemed impossible, she stepped forward, deeper into the field. Her voice carried, sure and bright, reaching the curious ears of the cows.

Elphaba’s throat tightened. Glinda’s presence was magnetic—an ease in every step, an unspoken confidence that made the air itself seem to lean closer and listen. Even the cows seemed captivated. A few had already begun to drift toward her, their heads low and ears flicked forward, as if drawn by some invisible thread.

Glinda’s voice dipped for a breath, then lifted into a brighter, more playful melody with a swing in its rhythm that made the grass seem to dance along. She laughed, a clear, easy sound that tumbled into the song and jostled the rhythm. But it didn’t matter, it was part of the moment. A spark of joy that drew every eye and every ear. Elphaba couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Glinda’s skirt flared as she twirled, the sun catching the fabric and almost turning it into a living flame. She laughed again, this time letting her voice soar with a bright note that made the air feel alive.

One of the cows that had been inching forward broke into a trot, its hooves kicking up dirt in the light. Another followed, then another, until the whole herd seemed to surge in a single, rolling wave.

Elphaba’s hand pressed hard against the fence, the wood biting into her palm. Her breath came fast, and her chest tightened.

It was working.

Elphaba’s breath hitched in her throat. The cows—one after another—were running toward Glinda like moths drawn to flame. Their hooves thudded softly in the grass, and the air was thick with anticipation, like the world was holding its breath.

Glinda’s skirt caught in the breeze, flaring like liquid gold. The song still poured from her lips, each note a thread pulling the cows closer. Her voice filled the air, warm and sure, weaving a net of music so captivating even Elphaba could feel its pull.

One by one, the cows crossed the boundary into the enclosure. They slowed as they approached Glinda, forming a loose half-circle in front of her. Their heads tilted, their ears pricked forward, they watched her like they couldn’t bear to look away.

Elphaba couldn’t either. Her chest tightened, and her pulse raced. She could hardly breathe.

Glinda’s voice rose and fell like a tide, wrapping around the final notes of the song. She didn’t rush; she sang it all the way through, finishing the phrase with a clarity that hung in the air. The last note lingered, trembling in the hush.

Silence.

Then, from the judge’s platform, a voice spoke up, the words drawn out half in confusion, half in surprise.

“Seven minutes?”

A beat passed, the hush stretching like a held breath.

Then, the crowd erupted in an explosion of cheers and applause that rolled through the pasture like thunder. Elphaba jumped, the sound tearing her from the spell that she’d been under. Her heart lurched as the realization that Glinda had won hit her.

Her eyes locked onto Glinda’s. She was still standing in the center of the enclosure, bright and breathless, a small smile playing on her lips. The world shrank until it was only to the two of them. The pull of Elphaba’s heart was as unstoppable as gravity—inevitable, unyielding, and drawing her closer with every breath. Her feet moved before her mind even caught up, and she vaulted over the fence, landing hard but steady.

Glinda saw her coming, and her face broke into a grin so wide it could have split the sky. She started running too, her skirt flying and her arms half-lifted as if to catch Elphaba before she reached her.

They crashed together in a tangle of laughter and gasping breaths, the cheers of the crowd swelling behind them. Elphaba caught Glinda around the waist and lifted her, spinning her in a Gildy, breathless circle.

“You did it!” she cried, her voice ragged with pride and relief.

Glinda’s laughter, bright and unguarded, seemed to lift them both into the air. Elphaba’s arms tightened around her, and before Glinda’s feet could even touch the ground, their lips collided in a kiss that felt like falling and flying all at once.

It was a rush of everything; fear, triumph, and longing all pouring out in the meeting of their lips. Elphaba’s hands squeezed Glinda’s waist as she pulled her even closer, her heart beating like a drum against her ribs. Glinda’s arms looped around her neck, drawing her in with a fierce, unspoken joy.

The cheers behind them blurred to a dull, distant roar, the rest of the world fading to nothing but the two of them. Elphaba lowered Glinda back to the ground, but their lips refused to part; like the Earth holding the moon in orbit, bound by a force that could never be broken, pulled together by something more than themselves.

Then, they fell into each other’s arms, the embrace as natural as breathing. It was like coming home, like every question found its answer, like every beginning found its end. Their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, the world around them still blurred at its edges, leaving only the steady thrum of their hearts, the warm press of Glinda’s body against Elphaba’s.

When they finally pulled apart, Elphaba’s smile trembled on her lips, and her heart pounded. Glinda’s eyes were glossy, the tears trapped there caught in the golden light of the sun. Elphaba lifted her hands to cradle Glinda’s jaw, her thumbs brushing lightly over her cheekbones.

“You’re incredible,” she whispered, her voice low and rough.

She leaned in again and pressed a softer, fleeting kiss to Glinda’s lips. And when they drew back, the roar of the crowd swelled around them once more, but, for a moment, it was still just the two of them.

Elphaba lowered her hands from Glinda’s face, one sliding down to catch Glinda’s fingers and entwine them with her own. She gave a small, reassuring squeeze.

Together, they turned toward the crowd. The cheers rose like a wave crashing around them, but Elphaba barely heard it, lost in Glinda’s smile.

They stepped forward as one, hand in hand, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

Chapter Text

The sun was setting, its warm glow washing the tulip field in amber and rose, the petals catching the light like tiny flames. It had been a couple of days since the trials ended, and in that time, the world had begun to settle again, though not without its tremors.

Garrick had been a sore loser, hunting for a loophole that might undo Glinda’s victory. But there was none to be found. He’d left in a rage, cheeks red with embarrassment, his pride bruised by the girl he’d underestimated.

Elphaba let out a slow breath, sinking deeper into the soft bed of tulips beneath her. Their sweet and earthy scent filled the air. She turned on her side to face Glinda, her smile spreading despite herself.

Glinda’s face was turned toward the sky, her eyes half-closed, and her hair a halo of gold against the blooms. Elphaba could stay in this moment forever, the warmth of the fading sun on her skin, the easy rhythm of their breathing, the quiet that came only with the end of a storm.

Glinda must have felt Elphaba’s gaze on her because a smile began to play at her lips before her eyes opened.

“What?” she asked, her voice light and teasing, but it carried a warmth that made Elphaba’s chest tighten. She reached out and lightly traced her fingers along the curve of Glinda’s cheek.

“I could stay here with you forever,” she murmured, the words falling softly between them. Glinda’s smile widened, her lashes lifting as she turned on her side to face Elphaba fully.

“What about the party tonight?” she teased, her eyes sparkling and her hand drifting to Elphaba’s forearm. “Aren’t you looking forward to that?”

Elphaba groaned, dropping her head back onto the tulips with an exasperated sigh, her fingers curling in the grass.

“Can’t we just say?” she muttered. “No parties. No going back to Shiz.”

She rolled toward Glinda, leaning in and gently pressing her back into the tulips, her arms slipping around her waist and burying her face in the curve of Glinda’s neck. Her laughter was a soft, delighted sound against Elphaba’s ear, and she lifted her hand to comb lightly through Elphaba’s hair.

“After all the lying I did to Morrible for you?” she teased, tilting her head so their eyes met. “Absolutely not, darling.” Elphaba let out a long, dramatic groan.

“Go on, tell me how much you loathe me.”

Glinda’s laughter burst free—bright, unguarded, and so genuine Elphaba’s heart lurched. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“You’re impossible,” Glinda said, her voice warm and teasing, laced with affection. “But I suppose I love you for it.”

Elphaba’s grin widened, her heart beating a little faster. She leaned up, brushing the tip of her nose against Glinda’s cheek before capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. She pulled back with a content sigh, and Glinda’s eyes softened. She ran her fingers lightly down Elphaba’s jaw, tracing the curve of her cheek.

“Come on,” she said, her voice warm but resolute. “We really should get ready.”

The night had settled over the town like a warm blanket, and the party was in full swing. Lights hung from makeshift posts, casting a gentle glow that danced across the crowd of faces. A great bonfire blazed at the center of it all, its flames licking the sky and sending sparks spiraling into the darkness. Laughter and music filled the air, fiddles and drums wove a lively tapestry of sound, pulling even the shyest guests into its rhythm.

Everywhere Elphaba looked, people were in various states of celebration: some spinning arm-in-arm in joyous circles, others perched on barrels or benches, heads thrown back in laughter.

And through it all, Glinda never left her side. Whether it was her fingers twined with Elphaba’s, or her arm draped lightly through the crook of Elphaba’s elbow, she was always there, as if some invisible thread bound them together. Even in the crowded chaos, Elphaba felt her presence like a steady pulse, a reminder that for once in her life she didn’t have to stand apart.

Amid the blur of music and laughter, Elphaba’s eyes wandered across the gathering, her gaze sweeping over the glowing faces, the couples dancing, the clusters of friends raising glasses. She felt Glinda’s presence steady beside her, a quiet anchor in the storm.

And then she saw him.

Frexspar stood near the edge of the crowd, his arms crossed over his chest, his face lit by the glow of the bonfire and scattered lights. His expression was stern and guarded, but beside him, Nessa sat in her wheelchair, her delicate hands folded neatly in her lap. Elphaba knew Frexspar had been keeping his distance since the trials ended, but she also knew that Nessa had been working to soften him. Whether she was making a difference, Elphaba hadn’t a clue.

A sigh slipped from her lips. She knew she couldn’t ignore him forever.

Glinda, who’d been leaning lightly into her, felt the shift. She tilted her head.

“What?” she asked, her voice gentle. Elphaba didn’t answer right away. She let her eyes rest on her father, the bonfire’s light dancing across the lines of his face. “Oh,” Glinda murmured, following Elphaba’s gaze. Elphaba’s mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“Might as well get it over with now,” she muttered, more to herself than to Glinda.

“I’ll need another drink first,” Glinda said, her voice dry and teasing, her hand resting lightly on Elphaba’s arm. And Elphaba let out a soft, genuine laugh that felt almost like relief.

“Come on,” she murmured, her voice low and fond, tugging Glinda gently forward.

They made their way across the bustling party, weaving through the clusters of dancers and laughing guests. The music thrummed in her chest like a second heartbeat, but the closer they got to her father, the more her own heart seemed to pound. Her throat was dry, and she swallowed, willing herself to breathe normally.

Glinda’s hand, still resting lightly on her arm, gave a gentle squeeze, grounding her. She leaned closer to Elphaba, her presence a silent shield. Elphaba drew in a breath as they reached him.

“Father,” she said, her voice even but quiet. Frexspar’s eyes met hers and then slid to Glinda. He nodded at them both. Glinda’s lips curved into a polite, almost audacious smile.

“I do hope you’re enjoying yourself,” she said, her tone airy and just sharp enough to cut through the tension.

Frexspar’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the corners sharp and strained. His jaw worked, as if he were grinding down the words he really wanted to say. Elphaba watched him closely, catching the brief tightening of his mouth before he schooled his expression again. He knew as well as Elphaba that he couldn’t do anything now.

The music pulsed in the background, laughter rising and falling like the tide, but between the four of them, silence stretched.

Then, Nessa shifted in her chair, her hands smoothing the folds of her dress.

“It’s a wonderful party,” she said, her voice bright and deliberate. Her smile was easy, her eyes shining as she looked around. “I’m glad I came.”  The tightness in Elphaba’s chest eased, just a little. She found her sister’s eyes, and her own lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

Another pause settled into the circle, heavy with unsaid things. Nessa’s hand moved, a small, insistent nudge against their father’s arm. Frexspar’s head dropped, and he cleared his throat. His gaze slid from the ground to Elphaba and Glinda and he blinked hard before managing to speak.

“Congratulations,” he said, the word slow and rough-edged, as though each syllable cost him something.

Elphaba offered him a small, tight-lipped smile in return. The music drifted over to them, filling the silence and mixing with the crackle of the bonfire and laughter of partygoers. Then Elphaba felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Mattie and Gil, beaming, their cheeks pink from drinking.

“You must be Elphaba!” Mattie exclaimed, her voice high and delighted as she grabbed Elphaba’s hand in both hers and shook it enthusiastically. Gil leaned in, his grin just as broad, and gave her a solid pat on the shoulder.

“We’re so glad to finally meet you properly,” Gil said, his words slightly slurred but earnest. “And what a party, eh? Couldn’t ask for a better reason to celebrate.” Before Elphaba could respond, Glinda jumped in, her eyes sparkling.

“And this is Elphaba’s sister, Nessarose,” she said gesturing to her across from them. Mattie’s eyes lit up, and she bent down slightly, giving Nessa’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“So lovely to meet you!” she said, beaming. Gil nodded eagerly, then looked up at Elphaba expectantly. She hesitated for a moment before motioning towards Frexspar.

“And… my father,” she said. Mattie and Gil’s smiles didn’t waver as they each extended a hand, oblivious to the tension.

“So good to meet you, sir,” Gil gushed.

Frexspar managed a pinched smile, his handshake forced and superficial. Elphaba could practically see the discomfort radiating off him, and she fought the urge to smirk.

“Well!” Mattie clapped her hands together. “Enough standing around! You must come join us for the dance! It’s tradition!” Elphaba opened her mouth to protest, but Glinda looped her arm through Elphaba’s and leaned in, her smile bright and teasing.

“Come on, darling,” she murmured.

“Yeah, don’t be a spoilsport, Elphaba.” Nessa’s voice joined in, her grin wicked. Elphaba let out a low groan, but Glinda’s laughter was bright and affectionate, and Nessa’s eyes sparkled. Elphaba’s resistance crumbled.

“Alright, alright,” she sighed, letting herself be pulled forward by Glinda’s determined tug, Nessa rolling behind them.

The music swelled as they neared the circle of dancers, laughter and warmth rising like the bonfire’s glow. The flames cracked and spat embers into the night sky, their glow painting the faces around in gold and orange. Glinda pulled Elphaba into the circle before she could protest any further.

Around them, the dancers moved with easy familiarity—clapping hands, twirling partners, stamping feet on beat. The dance was a tradition, a Munchkin celebration older than memory. Even Elphaba, who’d hardly participated when she was younger, knew the steps by heart.

They moved in a wide circle, partners drifting apart and then spinning close again in a weaving dance. Arms lifted, dresses flared, feet stomped in time with the beat. Some couples faced each other with laughter in their eyes; others spun back-to-back, hands brushing only to let go again.

Glinda stumbled at first, her bright hair catching the firelight, but she found the rhythm quickly, her movements quick and light. She let out a bubbling laugh as she spun too fast, her cheeks flushed pink. Elphaba couldn’t look away.

When the music carried them close—their bodies circling in an orbit of heat and laughter—a thrill sparked through Elphaba’s chest. For a breathless moment, they moved so near she could see the flush on Glinda’s neck, the quick rise and fall of her chest. Glinda’s eyes found hers, bright and alive, and the world narrowed to the space between them.

Elphaba mirrored the step, the spin, her own laughter catching in her throat as they turned around each other, close enough again to feel the warmth of Glinda’s breath but not touching. It was exhilarating.

She let herself be carried by the music, her heart light, every movement filled with the joy of being here, now, with Glinda. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe it was possible she could have the things she wanted.

The music eventually slowed to a final flourish, and Glinda stumbled, breathless, into Elphaba’s arms. Their laughter stumbled out, bright and unrestrained, echoing in the night air. Elphaba’s hands settled at Glinda’s waist, steadying her, while Glinda’s arms looped around Elphaba’s neck.

Before either of them could speak, Gil’s hand landed heavy on Elphaba’s shoulder.

“This is the best engagement party we’ve ever been to!” he crowed, his grin lopsided, his eyes bright and glassy. Mattie giggled and took his outstretched hands, and with a gleeful squeal, he spun her around, their arms wide and faces flushed.

Glinda’s laughter bubbled out, bright and unrestrained. Elphaba’s own laughter came softer, a breath of amusement. But then she stilled, her smile wavering. Her gaze flickered from Gil and Mattie’s twirling forms to the warmth in Glinda’s eyes, and the question slipped out, quiet and uncertain.

“You don’t really think—?” she breathed, the disbelief trembling on her lips. Glinda’s eyes were wide and shining with laughter.

“No,” she said quickly, but then hesitated. Her gaze darted toward Gil and Mattie, who were spinning away in a messy, joyous circle. “Well… maybe?” she added, a nervous giggle escaping her lips.

Elphaba’s eyes wandered the crowd, unfocused, until a sharp trill cut through the noise. She turned and spotted Cookie’s unmistakable pink crest, bobbing enthusiastically in a knot of amused judges near the food stalls.

“There’s Cookie,” Elphaba said, half a laugh, half a sigh. “She’ll know.”

She reached for Glinda’s hand, tugging her gently as they began to weave through clusters of dancers and guests. The hum of music and laughter swirled around them, the scents of spiced drinks and sweet pastries mingling in the air.

A passing group of children jostled past, one bumping into Elphaba. She glanced down, meeting a pair of bright eyes that quickly looked away, embarrassed.

“Excuse you,” Elphaba grunted, her fingers tightening lightly on Glinda’s hand before they pressed forward.

As they approached, Cookie’s bright voice cut through the party.

“Hello, darlings!” she chirped, her eyes lighting up when she saw them. “What a wonderful engagement celebration this has turned out to be!” Elphaba cleared her throat, a small, tight sound in the back of her throat as the realization dawned.  She shifted her weight, her brow furrowing.

“Speaking of engagement,” she started, her voice edged with disbelief. “We’re not actually engaged, are we?” Cookie’s laughter burst out in a riotous squawk, her wings flaring a little as if she might take off at any moment.

“Oh, you’re serious!” she cawed, her voice rising in gleeful incredulity. “You didn’t read the contracts you signed before all this started?”

Glinda’s hand twitched at the hem of her dress, her cheeks pink, her eyes darting between Elphaba and Cookie.

“Well, there was so much going on—”

“—Didn’t exactly have time to read all the fine print…” Elphaba said, the two of them speaking at once. Cookie clicked her beak, a sharp and amused sound, then gave her wings a small shake as if to steady herself.

“Oh, my dears,” she crooned, her voice sweet as syrup. “Yes, you are legally, by the laws of the Suitorial Council of Munchkinland, very much engaged.”

The words landed between them like a rock. Elphaba shot Glinda a look, her eyes wide. Glinda’s lips parted in a small, breathless “oh.” A hush settled over them, the laughter and music of the party fading for just a moment into a blur of noise at the edges.

Cookie folded her wings, gathering their attention once more.

“Now, I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around an old bird,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “Run along, go enjoy your party!” she trilled, her crest lifting with the motion.

Elphaba followed Glinda’s lead as they drifted away, watching the determined set of her shoulders. Something was bothering her, though Elphaba couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

They reached a quiet corner beneath a cluster of low-hanging branches, shadows dancing across their faces from the flickering lights. Glinda let out an annoyed huff, her shoulders dropping.

“It’s just not at all how I pictured it,” she said, her voice taut. Elphaba tilted her head, the corners of her lips twitching.

“Pictured what?” she asked, a teasing edge to her tone.

“Our engagement!” Glinda threw her hands up, exasperation painting her features.

“You’ve imagined our engagement?” Elphaba questioned, a soft laugh bubbling from her, fond and unguarded.

“Of course I have!”

“And was challenging a man for my hand in marriage and winning not romantical enough for you?” Elphaba quirked an eyebrow, a smirk tugging her lips. Glinda’s lips pressed into a line, her eyes narrowing, though her expression was quickly overtaken by a sheepish grin.

“Well, yes! But—” She paused, her eyes unfocused, like she was seeing something just out of reach. Her voice dropped, softer, more vulnerable. “I just… pictured a romantic boat ride along the Gillikin River. Me in a golden, flowing summer dress, with the sun in my hair and you—” She glanced at Elphaba and gave a small, knowing smile. “You’d be in black of course, all elegant and dramatic.”

Elphaba’s smile deepened, her eyes warm with amusement, her heart tugging in her chest. Glinda’s hands fluttered, as though conjuring the scene.

“And there’d be a small band, of course. Playing something slow and sweet, and you’d take me out to the front of the boat.” She paused, catching Elphaba’s gaze. “And you’d tell me all the things you love about me.” Elphaba’s heart stuttered, and she reached up, her fingers brushing Glinda’s cheek.

“Oh, my sweet,” she murmured, her voice low and earnest. “We have all the time in the world.” She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Glinda’s cheek. “And I can always ‘propose’ to you again later.” Glinda’s breath hitched, and she leaned into the touch, her smile soft and trembling.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Elphaba’s grin was crooked and warm.

Glinda exhaled a soft, shaky laugh, her hand drifting to Elphaba’s, her fingers curling around it like a promise. She squeezed gently, her thumb brushing Elphaba’s hand before letting go. A playful spark lit her eyes, and her smile brightened.

“We should enjoy tonight while we can,” she said, her tone light but laced with a playful edge. “Before we head back to Shiz tomorrow.”

“Good point.”

Glinda’s smile brightened, her brows arching.

“So then,” she declared, giving Elphaba a playful nudge, “be a good fiancé, and take me to get a drink.”

Elphaba’s lips curved, the corners lifting with something soft and unspoken as she dipped her head, slipping her hand into Glinda’s. She felt it then, the weight of what they had been through already, and the thrill of what was to come. And Elphaba was ready to lead Glinda wherever she asked.

Elphaba stood in the courtyard near the ivy-covered building that housed Madame Morrible’s office. The summer sun cast long shadows across the yard, the air quieter than she was used to. Most students were absent, the few who still lingered were taking summer classes or catching up on credits. The chatter of a small group echoed softly through the courtyard.

She’d finished her semester tests that morning, one final stack of papers handed in. Relief had loosened the tension in her shoulders, but it hadn’t lasted long. Morrible’s request to speak with both her and Glinda had sent a familiar tightness coiling through her chest and a sour taste at the back of her tongue.

Elphaba spotted Glinda across the yard, her sunlit hair practically glowed. Her eyes found Elphaba, and the smile that bloomed across her face was like a salve on Elphaba’s nerves. She practically skipped the last few steps, slipping her hand into Elphaba’s as she reached her and pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to her cheek.

Then she turned her head, glancing toward the darkened windows of Morrible’s office. The building seemed to loom over them, its sharp lines made sharper by the harsh afternoon light.

“What could she possibly want?” Glinda asked, her voice laced with exasperation. Elphaba exhaled, the tension in her chest easing from the way Glinda’s thumb traced circles on the back of her hand.

“Nothing good,” she muttered. She squeezed Glinda’s hand and glanced at the building behind them. “Come on, let’s just get it over with.”

They climbed the stone steps together, Elphaba’s heart pounding with every step. Her mind churned with half-formed possibilities; accusations, reprimands, orders she wasn’t sure she could follow. Morrible’s request had come without explanation or warning, and that alone was enough to twist her stomach into knots.

As they neared the door, Glinda squeezed her hand, picking up on the tremor in Elphaba’s grip. Elphaba tried to offer her a steadying smile, but it came out brittle.

With a deep breath, Glinda raised her free hand and knocked, the sharp sound echoing down the hallway. A pause followed, and then Morrible’s voice drifted out, smooth and cold as a snake.

“Enter.”

Elphaba’s fingers tightened around Glinda’s as they stepped inside, hand in hand. Morrible’s office was a study in intimidation. Heavy drapes, thick and oppressive, giving the afternoon light a sullen gloom. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with thick books and folders. The headmistress herself sat like a spider at the center of her web; her sharp eyes fixed on them before the door had fully closed. Her expression was unreadable.

“Sit,” she ordered. And they did, side by side, their knees brushing. Elphaba’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she forced herself to meet Morrible’s gaze.

Morrible regarded them from across the desk, her face a mask of displeasure. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes—sharp and cold—raked over them with disdain, making Elphaba’s stomach twist.

“I am deeply disappointed,” she began, her voice measured. She shifted in her chair, the movement small but deliberate, her knuckles white where they rested on the desk. “In you, Miss Thropp, for your complete disregard of school policy. Running off campus as though the rules do not apply to you.” Her gaze shifted to Glinda’s then, cold and assessing. “And you, Miss Upland. I expected honesty and decorum. But you—” she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing, “you lied. Directly to my face with some story about an ill grandfather.”

Elphaba swallowed, her throat dry. Beside her, Glinda’s shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing. Morrible’s fingers drummed once, twice on the polished wood.

“I know what you two were really doing in Nest Hardings. Gallivanting around at some festival.” Her voice dripped with disdain, the word “gallivanting” was spat like a curse.

“Madame—” Elphaba opened her mouth, trying to find the right words to defend Glinda.

“I will not be interrupted!” Morrible’s glare snapped to her, hard and unyielding, slapping her hand on the desk with a sharp crack that made both Elphaba and Glinda flinch.

Elphaba fell silent, her lips pressing together. Morrible drew herself up, her eyes narrowing as if she were scrutinizing insects.

“Your continued fraternization while sharing a dorm will not continue,” she declared. “You will be moved into separate halls at once.” Elphaba felt Glinda stiffen beside her, but the anger she expected to come didn’t. Instead, Glinda’s fingers flexed lightly in hers.

“That won’t be necessary, Madame,” Glinda said, her voice clear and calm. Morrible’s lips pulled into thin line, her eyes glittering with icy disdain.

“Necessary? You don’t make the rules here.”

“Actually, Madame,” Glinda gave her an easy, almost pitying smile that made Elphaba’s heart skip a beat in anticipation for what was to come next. “Seeing as Elphaba and I are now legally engaged; you’ll find that you can’t force us to move.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice carrying a sweetness that only sharpened the blow. “Our relationship is formally acknowledged under Shiz policy—section seventeen, subsection four—so we’re allowed to share a room. In fact, we’re considering one of the campus apartments, now that we’re eligible.”

For a single, glorious moment, Morrible seemed to freeze, her mouth opening but no sound emerging. Her eyes darted from Glinda to Elphaba and back again, her brows drawn together in disbelief. Elphaba couldn’t help but turn her head and stare at Glinda, a slow smile blooming on her lips as wonder filled her chest. Glinda squeezed her hand, her smile unwavering.

Morrible’s mouth worked, as if she were trying to find an argument. She blinked and her jaw tensed as she fought to maintain her composure. Glinda gave her another sweet, devastating smile.

“Is that all, Madame?” The question hung in the air like a challenge, and a surge of pride shot through Elphaba’s chest at the steel in Glinda’s voice.

Morrible’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing so thin they nearly disappeared. She made a small, dismissive noise, something between a sigh and a growl.

“You’re walking a very thin line, Miss Upland. I’ll be sure to have my eyes on you next semester.”

“I’m sure,” Glinda replied coolly.

A tense, uncomfortable silence settled the room, thick as fog. Morrible’s gaze lingered on them, cold and hard, as if daring them to challenge her further. Elphaba’s breath caught, the air in her lungs tight.

Finally, Morrible leaned back in her chair.

“Dismissed,” she said, her voice clipped and final.

Elphaba’s hand tightened around Glinda’s as they stood, the movement slow and deliberate. Neither of them wanted to give Morrible the satisfaction of seeing them hurry. The door creaked softly as they pulled it open and stepped out into the corridor.

They walked a little ways, the weight of Morrible’s stare still pressing their backs. Elphaba’s heart was still pounding, adrenaline fizzing through her veins, but the further they got from that office, the more her lips refused to stay still. A grin tugged at her mouth, unstoppable and stretching wider as she glanced at Glinda.

“You’re incredible,” she said, her voice rough with awe and disbelief. Glinda let out a shaky breath, her hand rising instinctively to her stomach as if trying to settle a flutter there.

“Really? I feel quite queasy.”

Elphaba laughed, a surprised, bright laugh that bubbled from somewhere deep within. She nudged Glinda gently with her shoulder, and they fell into step, the tension clinging to them from Morrible’s office loosening.

“How did you come up with that?” she asked, casting a sideways glance. Glinda’s eyes dipped to the cobblestones and then lifted again, a slow grin breaking across her face.

“I had to do something while you were off taking your tests,” she said lightly. “In case… well. In case something like this happened.” Elphaba’s pace slowed. She reached for Glinda’s hand, brushing her fingers lightly against it before letting her palm rest over Glinda’s wrist.

“You’re incredible,” she said again, softer this time, like the words were just for her, not meant to echo too far.

Her thumb traced a slow arc across the back of Glinda’s hand, grounding herself in the warmth of it. Glinda looked at her, and her smile faltered for just a moment, replaced by something gentler. The corners of her eyes crinkled. Elphaba inhaled slowly.

“I’m not quite ready to go back to the dorm yet.”

Glinda blinked, surprised. Then her face brightened, her shoulders lifting just slightly, as though something inside her had been lit.

“No?” Glinda said, her voice lifting, almost shy. Elphaba shook her head, her fingers still curled loosely around Glinda’s wrist. Her mouth twitched into a crooked smile.

“How about a walk along the canal?” she said. She glanced at Glinda, giving her a quiet, intentional look. “It’s beautiful in the sunlight.”

For a moment, Glinda just stared at her. And then her smile bloomed, radiant and warm and entirely real.

“I’d love to.”

They lingered for a moment, letting the tension of the meeting with Morrible fade fully. Glinda’s fingers trailed lightly along Elphaba’s arm, her touch lingering like a promise. With a final glance at each other, they turned and started down the familiar path.

Soon, the canal stretched before them. Its water glinted under the sun, and a light breeze rustled the trees overhead. The soft lap of water against the stone embankment was a comforting sound, a steady rhythm that matched the quiet ease between them.

They walked in silence, Glinda’s hand still on Elphaba’s arm, letting the warmth of the day and the soft breeze settle on her skin.

“You know,” Elphaba said, breaking the comfortable silence. “I never asked you about that last trial.” Glinda turned her head, her brows lifting.

“Hm?”

“How in the world did you know those cows would come running at the sound of your voice?” Elphaba asked with an incredulous look. Glinda burst out laughing as she leaned into Elphaba’s side.

“Well, I did tell you I grew up in Pertha Hills,” she said, her eyes sparkling. Elphaba nodded, a grin spreading across her face. “There was a pasture not too far from our house,” Glinda went on, her voice softening with the memory. “I used to go there when I was a child, just watching the cows while they grazed.” She paused, her gaze distant for a moment before she continued. “Then one day, I started singing, and they reacted to it. So, I figured, why not try it?” Elphaba laughed, the sound warm and bright.

“You’re full of surprises,” she said, her eyes shining.

They continued walking for a while, the sun warm on their backs, their footsteps slow and unhurried. The water’s quiet lapping played in the background. After a few steps, Glinda’s fingers tightened slightly on Elphaba’s arm. She slowed her pace, glancing out over the canal. The breeze ruffled her hair, and she tucked a strand behind her ear, her expression softening.

“Let’s sit,” she said at last, a hint of a smile in her voice, and a quiet certainty in her eyes.

They settled at the edge of the canal, their feet dangling over the water, listening to the soft splash of the current. Glinda turned her head, her eyes bright with mischief.

“You know, Elphie, now that we’re engaged, you have to do everything I say.” She nudged Elphaba lightly with her shoulder. Elphaba snorted, unable to hold back a grin.

“And what’s so different about that and before?”

Glinda gasped dramatically, a hand flying to her chest in mock hurt.

“Well, before I had to ask,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “Now I can simply demand.” Elphaba laughed, her shoulder shaking.

“I’m still not sure what’s so different about that.”

“You’re hopeless.” Glinda rolled her eyes in exaggerated exasperation. Elphaba’s smile softened, her gaze fond.

“For you? Completely.”

Glinda reached into Elphaba’s lap, her hand sliding over Elphaba’s and gently entwining their fingers. She looked up at her, her eyes warm and soft and filled with so much emotion that Elphaba’s heart lurched and melted all at once.

“So,” Elphaba swallowed, her voice quiet. “What happens now?” Glinda’s smile was gentle, her thumb brushing over Elphaba’s knuckles.

“Whatever we want,” she whispered.

She leaned in, her forehead brushing lightly against Elphaba’s. Then she rested her head on Elphaba’s shoulder, settling in close.

Elphaba closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the moment. A warm breeze moved across her face, lifting strands of her hair. She could feel the rise and fall of Glinda’s breaths against her side, steady and close.

The scent of the canal drifted around them—damp stone, warm grass—and beneath it all, the faint, familiar trace of lavender in Glinda’s hair, curling gently into Elphaba’s senses.

A soft smile tugged at Elphaba’s lips, warmth blooming in her chest—because, wherever she was, as long as Glinda was with her, she was home.