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Chapter Text

The dining hall at Shiz squatted in defiance of its surroundings - a crooked, awkward thing dwarfed by the high-domed splendor of the university it stubbornly belonged to. It looked, Elphaba often thought, like the sort of building that hoped no one would notice it - and, failing that, made a point of not caring. The light, muddied by years of smudged glass and the creeping invasion of the quad’s starburst vines, seeped through in thin, uneven shafts, catching weakly on the tiles before splintering across Galinda’s hair. It seemed almost conspiratorial, as though what little the room had to offer had been willingly surrendered to her. Breakfast was a haphazard affair: trays of indistinct, pallid offerings that strained even the most generous imagination to qualify as food.

Elphaba shifted her tray to one arm and yanked her sleeve down - an old, instinctive movement - aiming not to spill her bowl of, what seemed at first glance, something greyish and vaguely gelatinous; food only in the most technical sense. She had long since given up on the notion of enjoying food at Shiz, settling instead for the small victory of getting it down without gagging. Galinda flitted ahead, her tray balanced with the kind of theatrical precision that suggested rehearsal. Her shoes tapped a brisk rhythm on the tiles, a sound that summoned attention Galinda absorbed without acknowledgment.

Elphaba’s smile lingered too long, tight at the edges. Envy didn’t sit well - it gnawed at her ribs, restless and unwelcome, mistaking admiration for captivity and Elphaba herself for a willing jailer. She wondered, briefly, if that was what envy always felt like: a sharp-edged thing, made worse by refusing to admit its shape. She envied a lot of things about Galinda, if she was honest with herself, which she wasn’t in any direct way. The effortless grace, the charm, the way she could smile as though the world had been made for her. And perhaps - though Elphaba would rather die than admit it - the softness of her hands. Not that Elphaba thought about Galinda’s hands often. Only when they were on her arm or brushing an imaginary speck off her sleeve or smoothing an errant strand of her own perfect hair. Hardly ever.

"Honestly, Elphie," Galinda said, already seated by the time Elphaba caught up, "you’re so slow. You should let me carry your tray next time. It’ll spare everyone’s nerves." Her smile widened, just enough to make it clear she wasn’t entirely joking.

Elphaba dropped her tray onto the table with exaggerated care, watching Galinda’s nose wrinkle at the sight of her bowl. "You do realise hall breakfast isn’t a threat to most people, don’t you?" Elphaba’s spoon hovered over her bowl, its contents trembling faintly. "There’s nothing to fear here."

Galinda sniffed. "It’s not fear. It’s standards."

Elphaba rolled her eyes but found herself smiling, faintly. Galinda’s leg brushed hers under the table. Casual. Thoughtless. Elphaba’s spoon froze midair, her pulse stumbling over itself. The bowl beneath her seemed suddenly distant, its greyish surface rippling faintly, though she knew the movement was only in her head.

"You’ve a speck - there," Galinda said suddenly, leaning across the table. Elphaba barely had time to stiffen before Galinda’s thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. Quick, precise, careless. It shouldn’t have meant anything. It did.

It wasn’t careless, not really. Galinda’s movements were always precise, always deliberate, even when they seemed thoughtless. Elphaba, meanwhile, felt the touch like a brand, her whole body tensing with the absurd weight of it. How could something so small feel so intrusive? So disarming? Galinda withdrew her hand without a second thought, her attention already shifting, whilst Elphaba was left clinging to the moment

Elphaba blinked, her pulse a half-step behind itself. "Thanks," she managed, her voice catching on the consonant.

"See?" Galinda said, beaming a little too quickly. "Almost presentable." She took a bite of toast - edges trimmed to a perfect square, pale green jam spread with near-military precision - and chewed delicately, like it might crumble under the weight of her enthusiasm. Galinda’s knee brushed Elphaba’s again, and for just a second, her gaze flicked down - not at the table, but at Elphaba’s hand, clenched white around her spoon.

Galinda tilted her head, her perfect smile widening as a group of students waved at her from across the room. Elphaba caught it - the briefest stutter in her expression, a hesitation so fleeting it might have been imagined. But then the smile settled, as smooth and bright as ever, though it lingered just long enough to suggest it wasn’t entirely effortless. Elphaba wondered if anyone else noticed. Probably not. Galinda was too good at being seen and not seen, at deflecting attention in just the right way - like sunlight on glass, Elphaba thought - dazzling, fleeting, impossible to pin down. Elphaba, on the other hand, felt too solid by half, every glance sticking to her like burrs she couldn’t shake off.

Elphaba returned her attention to her porridge, stirring it without appetite. "Have you finished your essay for Dillamond?" she asked, more to ground herself than because she particularly cared about Galinda’s academic habits

"Not yet," Galinda admitted. "Don’t smirk, Elphie! Some of us have priorities - important commitments."

Elphaba hummed noncommittally. The truth was, she didn’t doubt it. Galinda had a way of pulling people into her orbit, whether she liked them or not. The thought of Galinda with Fiyero, though - effortlessly handsome and endlessly uninterested - left a sour weight in Elphaba’s stomach. Not in jealousy exactly, but something harder to name and even harder to ignore.

"I saw him yesterday," Galinda said, as though she’d plucked the thought from Elphaba’s head. "Fiyero. He’s so…" She waved her hand, searching for the word.

"Vacant?" Elphaba supplied.

Galinda laughed, and it was too loud for the dining hall but perfectly pitched to Elphaba’s ears. "You’re horrendible," she said, her eyes sparkling. "But yes, a little. Vacant. Though he’s very tall, which makes up for quite a lot, don’t you think?"

Elphaba didn’t think, and she certainly didn’t respond, because anything she said would sound defensive or dismissive or worse, indifferent. Instead, she focused on the porridge, which was growing cold and congealed in the bowl. Beside her, Galinda chattered on, her knee bumping against Elphaba’s every few sentences as if to punctuate her thoughts.

"Are you even listening?" Galinda said eventually, leaning into her line of sight.

"I always listen," Elphaba replied. "I have no choice. You’re very loud."

"You’re very rude," Galinda shot back, her smile curling at the edges. Elphaba’s knee stayed where it was, her skin tingling as if it had been pressed too long against something warm. Galinda’s chatter faded into the background, the hum of the room softening to nothing. For once, Elphaba didn’t overthink. She simply let herself stay, the fragile warmth of Galinda’s presence filling the silence she hadn’t noticed lingering.

Chapter Text

Hall was noisier than usual, the scrape of cutlery against cheap crockery forming an uneasy rhythm beneath the sharp bursts of laughter from a table of Gillikin boys. The noise seemed to swell and retreat, like a tide, dragging attention towards them before releasing it to the room’s low hum of conversation. It wasn’t oppressive exactly, but it had the prickling quality of something designed to wear you down. Elphaba considered turning back, tray in hand, and eating somewhere quieter - possibly anywhere else - but Galinda had already seen her. Too late now.

"Elphie!" came the sing-song lilt, chirping through the din. Elphaba winced, not at the name (which she could stomach when Galinda said it, inexplicably) but at the ripple of attention it summoned. The table of Gillikin boys turned to stare, their sharp laughter like birds pecking at her skin. She doubted they meant anything by it, but that made it worse - being noticed without reason, as though even existing was offence enough.

Galinda’s laughter was too loud, even for her, drawing glances she brushed off with a quick, practiced wave. But Elphaba caught it - the fleeting drop of her gaze, the way her smile faltered before snapping back into place, brighter than before. She was already patting the seat beside her, a ringed hand brushing invisible crumbs from the bench.

Elphaba approached, placing her tray on the table with a thunk. "I’m not sure what’s worse," she said, sliding into the seat, "your insistence on shortening my name or the way you shout it like a carnival barker."

"It gets your attention, doesn’t it?" Galinda replied, unfazed. She was buttering a piece of toast, her movements precise and entirely too elegant for the clattering chaos around them. "And don’t pretend you hate it. You’re secretly charmed."

"I’m secretly hungry," Elphaba said, but her lips twitched despite herself. She busied herself with her breakfast, poking at the porridge with her spoon as if it might reveal a hidden treasure. It didn’t.

Galinda leaned in, her presence a shade too close, the faint citrus of her perfume curling through the noise like something meant only for Elphaba. The intimacy of it felt unearned, almost intrusive, as though Galinda had crossed an invisible boundary Elphaba hadn’t realised she’d set. "You’ll never guess who stopped me on my way here," she said in a stage whisper.

"Fiyero," Elphaba guessed, without looking up. "Or one of his interchangeable friends."

"Rude," Galinda said, though she didn’t deny it. "It was Fiyero, actually. He wanted to know if I’d help him with Gildemain’s presentation on Evian alliances. As if I have time to do his work for him. Honestly, he’s so..." Galinda trailed off, her knife pausing mid-swipe, before finishing, "helpless."

Elphaba snorted. "You’ll do it, though."

Galinda hesitated, which was answer enough. "That’s not the point," she said, waving her toast like a sceptre. "The point is - "

"The point is you love him," Elphaba interrupted, her voice dry and biting, though the humour in her tone felt brittle even to her own ears. "Don’t you?"

The words hung there, briefly, before Galinda shrugged, smiling widely. "He’s handsome and charming. Perfect. And he’s - oh, I don’t know. Tall." 

"High standards indeed," Elphaba said, her voice dripping with scorn. But her spoon betrayed her, clinking against the edge of her bowl with an almost accusatory clatter. She set it down and pressed her palms flat against the table, grouding herself.

Galinda tilted her head, watching her with a gaze that was sharper than nElphaba could ever prepare for. "What about you , Elphie?” Galinda’s voice was light, almost idle, though her gaze continued to pin Elphaba with unsettling precision. “Someone take your fancy yet?"

Elphaba’s stomach twisted, and not from the porridge. She considered deflecting, redirecting the conversation as she usually did, but Galinda’s gaze was unrelenting, demanding honesty without saying a word. The question was harmless, innocent on the surface, but Galinda had a way of asking that turned simplicity into scrutiny. It felt like a trick, though Elphaba couldn’t decide whose game it was. "No," she said finally. It felt close enough to the truth, she supposed. 

Galinda’s laugh was quick, a shade too loud, but she caught herself mid-breath, smoothing it into a softer chuckle. Her knee brushed Elphaba’s again, lingering just long enough to seem deliberate, though her eyes flicked down to her toast. "Not even a little ?" Galinda pressed, uncomfortably light, as if she wasn’t sure what answer she wanted.

“Not even a little," Elphaba’s voice was steady, but her skin burnt where Galinda’s leg touched hers. She fought the urge to pull away, to sever the connection before it became unbearable.

"Good," Galinda said quickly, something soft and teasing in the curve of her lips. She didn’t explain, didn’t elaborate, but the word hung there, as though it were waiting for Elphaba to decide its meaning. Elphaba, unsteady under the weight of it, let it pass, though her pulse stuttered in quiet protest.

Elphaba didn’t trust herself to reply. She picked up her spoon again, stirring the porridge absently, though she wasn’t hungry anymore. Around them, hall buzzed with conversation, but it felt distant, muffled, as though the world had narrowed to the space between them.

"You’re quiet," Galinda observed, tilting her head. Her curls brushed against her shoulder, catching the morning light like they were trying to show off. "Never a good sign. What’s on your mind?"

"Nothing," Elphaba said, too quickly. She forced herself to look up, meeting Galinda’s gaze. "Just thinking about Dillamond’s 9 AM."

Galinda groaned dramatically. "Don’t remind me. Honestly, he expects us to care about historical precedents as if we’re all… historians."

"Some of us care about more than commitments ," Elphaba shot back, her tone lighter than she felt. "You might try it sometime."

"I care about you," Galinda said, her voice teasing but her eyes held something Elphaba couldn’t name, something that made her breath hitch.

Elphaba looked away, pretending to focus on her porridge. "Lucky me," she muttered, but the words came out too soft, too raw. She didn’t dare look up again until the moment had folded itself away, tucked behind Galinda’s easy chatter and the quicksilver ring of her laughter cutting through the noise like sunlight through clouds.  It warmed the room but left Elphaba cold.

Chapter Text

Hall was unusually quiet, its usual din replaced by the faint clatter of cutlery and the occasional muted cough. The silence wasn’t serene but heavy, like the campus itself was still waking from the previous night’s excess. Most of the first-years were likely still recovering from the previous evening’s festivities - a celebration of something or other, though Elphaba hadn’t cared enough to remember. She’d spent the night reading in the dim pool of light from her desk lamp, the edges of her book curling from the heat. She’d fallen asleep to the faint sound of music drifting across the campus, but it had done nothing to soften the heavy fog of tiredness she now carried. The music hadn’t followed her into her dreams, but the sense of being on the edge of something - of watching from a distance - had stayed with her.

Galinda, of course, looked as though she had been delivered to the dining hall by cherubs. Her curls were pinned back in a loose, effortless style that only an hour in front of the mirror could achieve. She had forgone toast for a plate of fresh fruit, each piece arranged with the kind of care most people reserved for floral arrangements.

"You look dreadful," Galinda said by way of greeting as Elphaba set her tray down. There was no heat in her voice, only the kind of amused fondness that had been creeping into her tone lately. It unsettled Elphaba more than outright mockery ever could.

"And you look entirely too smug for someone who still hasn’t started Dillamond’s essay," Elphaba replied, collapsing into the seat across from her.

"I’m considering writing it on you," Galinda said, slicing into a piece of melon with her fork. "The most curious creature in Oz. I’d get full marks for originality."

"You’d get expelled for cheek." Elphaba picked up her spoon, stirring her porridge into a viscous mess. "Besides, I’m hardly the strangest thing at Shiz. You’ve seen Gildemain’s hats."

Galinda laughed, the sound as light and sharp as glass. It startled Elphaba, though she couldn’t have said why. "Poor Gildemain," Galinda said. "He can’t help it, you know. He’s from Ev. They don’t have taste there."

"And you’re determined to make up for it on behalf of the entire continent," Elphaba said, gesturing at Galinda’s immaculately tailored jacket.

Galinda grinned, leaning across the table slightly. "I knew you’d notice."

Elphaba rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched in spite of herself. She took a bite of her porridge, which was as bland and joyless as everything else about the morning, but at least it gave her something to do other than watch the way Galinda’s lips curved around her fork.

"Are you sad you didn’t go last night?" Galinda asked suddenly, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. "Fiyero noticed, you know. He asked me where you were."

Elphaba set her spoon down with deliberate care. "Fiyero notices what the wind is doing if it’s particularly loud."

"That’s not fair," Galinda said, though her voice carried none of her usual fervour. She twirled her fork absently between her fingers. "He… cares, you know. About people."

"He cares about looking like he cares," Elphaba said, her voice soft but firm. "There’s a difference."

Galinda frowned, and for a moment, Elphaba wondered if she’d gone too far. But then Galinda leaned back in her chair, her expression smoothing into something unreadable. "Maybe you’re right," she said, her tone light again, though it felt rehearsed. "It’s just - well, he’s so tall."

"Yes, you’ve mentioned." Elphaba’s voice was dry, but her hands itched with a strange, restless energy. She wanted to reach across the table, to close the distance that Galinda seemed to create and destroy with every passing moment.

"Are you sure he likes me?" Galinda asked suddenly, her voice quieter than usual, the question slipping out as if unplanned. She twirled her fork between her fingers, the movement quick and fidgeting.

Elphaba blinked, thrown by the question. She looked at Galinda - really looked - and saw, beneath the polished exterior, something raw and fragile. It was like catching sight of a bird with a broken wing, something that shouldn’t be possible because Galinda wasn’t supposed to break. She was supposed to glide, untouched by the world’s sharper edges.

"He’d be a fool not to," Elphaba said finally, and her voice was steadier than she felt. It was a safe answer, she told herself - neutral enough to mean nothing, though the way Galinda’s face softened made her regret it anyway.

Galinda smiled at that, soft and fleeting, but her eyes lingered on Elphaba’s face a moment longer than they should have. "You always know what to say," she murmured.

Elphaba didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Outside, the birdsong continued, insistent and oblivious, and the room felt at once too small and impossibly vast. Elphaba’s hands, resting flat on the table, ached with the effort of staying still.