Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Galinda Upland, of the Upper Uplands, was perfect. From each curled, golden strand of hair, down to every perfectly shaped and manicured nail. Perfect. Except, of course, for when she was not perfect. In those moments - those rare, inexcusable moments - Galinda was vulnerable. Galinda was scared.

There had been many moments - especially as a child - in which Galinda had not been perfect. So many, in fact, that her parents had taken to scolding her each time she had presented herself… wrongly. As a child, Galinda remembered how everything had always feel like too much. Her parents talking at the dinner table would sound like screaming in her ears. The lace of her dress would feel like knifes scraping against her throat. The brush of a hand on her arm would feel like razor blades skimming against her porcelain skin. The dining hall light would burn in her eyes as if the sun itself had fallen directly into her field of view. It had all felt so painful, so difficult, simply to exist.

Often, she had clamped her hands over her ears, screwed her eyes shut. Sometimes she would rock, or more often would pull at her own hair, or hit her own head - that made it better, made the burning stop for a bit - or even run away. She spent her childhood locking herself in cupboards, small, repetitive, high pitched noises finding their way out of her mouth. Her momsie and popsicle tried - at first - to soothe her, to calm her, assuming this was just a ‘bratty phase’ she was going through.

Eventually, they got sick of it, as did Galinda herself. They would glare at her, tell her she was presenting herself disgracefully, that she was embarrassing them, that she was acting like… a freak.

Galinda knew what that meant. Stop it, do better, immediately. There was no arguing with Momsie and Popsicle. Each time her hands reached for her ears, Momsie would plaster a false smile on her face, and spit out, ‘Stop being a little freak, Galinda,’ and her hands would fall to her sides, clawing at her own skin under the table. She would plaster a smile on her face, just like Momsie, and nod. The skin on her thighs would be scratched to shreds by the end of the day.

Now, Galinda did nothing of the sort. If things were too loud, if a touch had felt like a blade, or a light had felt like burning in her eyes - well - Galinda simply dealt with it. Silently.

At Shiz, Galinda knew there was no room for failure, for being less than. Nothing bothered her at Shiz. No, she was perfect; her personality, her style, her character, perfectly curated, perfectly pushed down.

Nobody needed to know what Galinda had been like as a child, that Momsie and Popsicle has been glad to see the back of her, dropping her here. They had smiled and fawned and cried, but it had been false, she knew that. They had sighed with relief upon leaving. Galinda knew they had always been worried, scared that one day, Galinda would drop the act, that she would suddenly erupt, ruining their shiny reputation. She knew that could not happen.

So, at Shiz, Galinda remained perfect. Nobody would suspect otherwise. She never let slip the bubble of anxiety, always in her stomach, or the itch her hands had to flap. She had learnt how to suppress the flinch when she was touched, how to glue her hands to her sides when the room filled with noise. She would never let the mask slip. Never.

And then, something - or someone - happened to her plan. Her perfect plan of being perfect. Someone green, and broody. Someone so authentically herself that it made Galinda entirely loathe her. How dare she be so free, so authentic? That couldn’t possibly be allowed!

Elphaba Thropp has swept into Shiz on their first day - and then into Galinda’s dorm - dressed in black, quiet and mysterious.

“Why don’t you ever talk?” Galinda had snapped at her, one night.

Elphaba’s head had been buried in a book, and it was getting on Galinda’s nerves; the tension, the silence.

Elphaba had looked at her, really looked at her and tilted her head. The book on her lap had closed and she had sighed.

“I prefer not to talk, unless I have to. It’s just how I am.”

She had waited for Galinda to process what she had said.

“Well that’s- that’s horrendable! How do you make friends? Not that anyone would want to be your friend anyway, I mean-“ Galinda had gestured to Elphaba as a whole.

The words had burned on their way out, and she had felt a pit in her stomach at the look on Elphaba’s face. She didn’t know why she always had to say things like that. Although, it wasn’t her fault Elphaba was so- Elphaba.

“I don’t care for making friends, particularly. I guess I’m like a flying free autistic, or something. I like my own company.”

Elphaba had laughed, but Galinda’s face had stayed stoney.

“You’re- um. What?”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m autistic.”

And then Elphaba had put her head back in her book, and they had spoken no more.

Galinda had never brought it up. Elphaba had never brought it up either.

But Galinda, accidentally, completely accidentally, had stumbled upon some articles on the web, about autism.

She didn’t care to learn about Elphaba, of course not. She wasn’t interested in what life was like for her.

She simply stumbled upon it, by accident. If she had accidentally clicked on it, and had accidentally read it and if some of it had accidentally made her feel seen and understood, well that’s all besides the point, isn’t it?

Galinda found that she had thought about it, though, all night after that. She had sat at her vanity, in their dorm, studying Elphaba through the mirror.

Were there parts of her that may be…. gasp…. similar to Elphaba? Of course not.

She had watched Elphaba’s fingers tap together, had listened to Elphaba’s consistent hum, had noticed when Elphaba stumbled over social greetings, missed cues and walked away from people mid conversation.

No, she was nothing like her. She didn’t do any of those things. She wasn’t… like that. She just needed to ignore her, ignore the articles. Keep being perfect.

In class, Dr Dillamond droned on and on about some boring historical battle that Galinda could not wrap her head around.

She couldn’t fathom why anyone would possibly care about something that had happened so long ago. She watched as Elphaba scrawled frantic notes in her leatherback notebook across the classroom and rolled her eyes. Oz, what a try hard.

Galinda, however, had not written a single thing. There were, however, various doodles of flowers and bows and other pretty things littering her page.

It’s not that Galinda wasn’t smart, she just got distracted, that’s all, like her head was constantly buzzing and flitting from one thing to the next in a matter of seconds.

It didn’t particularly help, that someone was tapping their shoe against the wooden pew in front of them, and that Pfanee was constantly shifting in her seat, rubbing her blazer against Galinda’s silk shirt every time she did so.

But - of course - none of that mattered. It didn’t bother her.

She stretched her fingers out in front of her, pushing down the urge to flap her hands again.

Today felt particularly… sensitive. She had put on her silkiest, comfiest outfit in order to contradict it, but still, the bubbling felt harder to push down.

She couldn’t rock, or pull at her hair as she has done as a child, not here, not anywhere, so instead she sat, stiff and silent, trying to stop her head buzzing and her hands fidgeting.

She watched as Dr Dillamond asked a question, silence sweeping over the classroom. Good to know she wasn’t the only one without any idea what was going on.

Elphaba, of course, sat with the silence and then, quietly, gave an answer. A perfect, eloquent, and correct answer. She fidgeted as she gave it, tapping her fingers together, blinking hard, like it was difficult to get the words out.

“Correct, Ms Elphaba. You certainly are knowledgeable on this subject, aren’t you? 100% on your last assignment. The rest of you would do well to pay closer attention.” Dr Dillamond bleated.

Galinda rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately, not all of us are nerdy, alien freaks.”

She found the words had come out of her mouth before she could stop them. Freak. Oz, she hates that word. Although, for once, at least nobody was saying it about her.

“Ms Upland-“ Dr Dillamond began, but Elphaba had already cut him off.

“Not an alien. Just green.” Elphaba stated, a soft smirk on her face. She was still tapping her fingers together, voice rather monotone.

“Fine. A green, nerdy, autistic freak then.” Galinda watched the smirk fall from Elphaba’s face and the pit in her stomach got bigger, deeper.

The lights seemed brighter, noises louder. Jesus, Galinda.

“Ms Upland. Ms Thropp. If you will.”

Dr Dillamond got back to teaching, but the room was slightly abuzz now, whispers flitting around the room, laughter, giggles, stares. All because of Galinda.

She saw Elphaba begin to gently flap her hands, watched her leg begin to bounce, a soft distressed noise making its way out of her mouth.

She watched as Elphaba stood up, and just like Galinda had done as a child, she ran.

Galinda understood it - what Elphaba was feeling, that trapped, suffocating feeling. But it was Elphaba feeling it. Not her. Never her.

Galinda half expected Elphaba never to come back to class. She certainly wouldn’t.

Plus, Elphaba had avoided her since that day, in Dr Dillamond’s classroom, and Galinda didn’t truly blame her for it. She would avoid herself if she could. She had found it hard to even look at herself in the mirror since, which, for Galinda was especially concernifying.

When Galinda turned up to Dr Dillamond’s class, late, of course, (well, she couldn’t possibly have left her dorm with unequal eyeliner!) she found that the only seat left was the one directly next to Elphaba.

It made Galinda’s heart sink a little, the fact that nobody would sit next to her, because of something she did.

It also made her feel a little shifty, knowing she’d have to sit there. She shook her head, nails digging into her hand.

“Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse moi! Thank you!” She sang, shuffling her way past her classmates, and delicately placing herself in the chair next to Elphaba.

It was as if the whole class went silent, eyes focused on the pair, pink and green, as far apart from each other as two could be on a little desk like that.

A siren went off somewhere, and Galinda - despite her efforts - flinched.

“Elphaba. I didn’t see you this morning.” She tried, voice melodic whilst scratching a nail up her own thigh.

The siren was still blaring.

“That’s the point.” Elphaba muttered, refusing to look at her.

“Elphaba-“

But Dr Dillamond started talking and the moment was gone, and Galinda sat, stomach bubbling, heart hammering, hands itching to go to her ears, the siren ringing, even now it had stopped.

The class, however, hadn’t stopped.

They were still actively staring, even after an hour or so had gone by, as if expecting a fight.

Typically, Galinda would revel in the attention, but today, it only made her feel anxious, like a rat under a microscope.

The siren was still loud in her head.

It wouldn’t stop.

Elphaba was fidgeting next to her, ShenShen was tapping their pen against their notebook, Dr Dillamond was talking and talking and talking.

Someone’s watch was ticking, and someone’s shoe was thumping against her chair. The chatter next door was getting louder and louder, her dress was getting tighter, and surely the siren had stopped.

Why could she still hear it in her head?

Her corset was making her feel trapped, the blood in her head was rushing and pounding and the light was flickering and burning and it felt as if she was going to explode.

She needed to get out, she needed to leave, she needed-

“Galinda?”

Someone was speaking? No, not speaking, they were screaming.

Her name was now ringing in her ears, and she wanted to cover them, she wanted to shut it out but she couldn’t- she can’t.

She has to be perfect, this can’t be happening to her, not now, not here.

Instead she clawed at her own thighs, nails digging into her skin. Just like she would do under the table.

“Galinda? Hey? Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe. Please don’t hurt yourself.”

A hand reached out to her, but didn’t touch.

A green hand.

“No, don’t, please don’t touch me, please, please, don’t touch me.”

Galinda could hear the words coming out of her mouth, as if she were outside her own body.

She couldn’t stop them.

Elphaba wasn’t touching her, she knew better, but her brain was stuck, stuttering the same thing over and over again.

She hit at her head, desperate for the words to stop, for the tears to stop.

Begging her own brain to stop embarrassing her. Begging her brain to just let her be normal.

“I’m not. I won’t. Please, Galinda. Don’t do that to your head, honey. Let me shut the blinds. You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

Galinda was vaguely aware of Elphaba, rushing around, and the room was engulfed in darkness.

The siren in her head dulled slightly.

She could feel a pull at her scalp, and realised it was her own hands, clawing at her hair, like a child.

Like a freak.

“I can’t- this isn’t- I’m better- no- I’m…”

She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. Trying to convince herself to stop this, perhaps? Trying to convince Elphaba this isn’t what it seems, she’s not weird, she’s not a freak, she’s just-

Elphaba was suddenly crouched in front of her.

“No. No. You’re allowed to be overwhelmed. Let me-“

Something was placed over her head, and suddenly the noise became still.

The chatter from next door, the sounds of people shuffling along the corridor, the laughter of the others in the common. Almost gone. No longer roaring in her head.

Galinda felt her ears, had they stopped working? Was she free?

“Ear defenders. They’re mine, so, they’re green not pink. Sorry.” Elphaba smiled, gently.

Her hands were also clasped over the headphones, over Galinda’s ears, an extra protector.

“I also have- hang on.”

Elphaba disappeared for a second, and returned, placing a heavy, grey pad in Galinda’s lap.

The weight made Galinda feel more human, like her body wasn’t about to light on fire.

“It helps me, when I’m - y’know - overwhelmed. I thought - but if you don’t..”

She went to touch to the pad, but Galinda gripped it, like a lifeline.

“I also find, um, I like to tap. That helps. The buzzing- it, um, I don’t know. It helps.”

Galinda shook her head.

She wanted to speak, to tell her no, no tapping. Galinda hates tapping. It echoes in her brain, like pounding drums.

“Mm.”

She doesn’t know how to mimic rocking without doing it, and she can’t do it. She’s not allowed.

“No? Okay, um. Spinning? Flapping?Rocking?” Elphaba asks, and Galinda’s eyes flick up.

“Rocking? That’s good. We can, um, we can do that? together. If you want. Right now.”

Galinda stared at her, not in the eyes, never in the eyes, but between them. Eyes flicking over her whole face, taking in her features.

She wanted to.

She needed to, badly.

She knows that it helps. Why does Elphaba know that it helps?

But students laughed outside, at her maybe.

They couldn’t see, the classroom door was closed, but it was about her.

She knew it.

They all knew.

Little Miss Galinda, not so perfect after all.

Everything, ruined.

Elphaba would surely tell everyone, especially after what she did.

Her parents would hate her. Oz, she was so stupid.

“Mm.” Galinda shook her head. She couldn’t make it worse.

“I-“ She paused, and suddenly threw off the headphones, pushed the pad off her lap, and ran.

Elphaba stayed, crouched in the empty classroom, wondering just how much there was about Galinda Upland that she didn’t understand yet.

Chapter Text

There are three things Elphaba Thropp knows to be true.

Number one, is that talking is incredibly hard.

Number two, Galinda Upland is incredibly confusing.

And number three, talking to Galinda was damn near impossible.

She had tried, after that day in Dr Dillamond’s classroom.

She had given Galinda space, staying out at the library until the early hours of the morning so that Galinda could have time, and silence, and freedom to recover however she wanted.

When she came back, Galinda was already in bed, tucked firmly under her pink, silk bedspread. Elphaba was sure she wasn’t asleep, no, Galinda typically made soft little noises when she slept.

But she was silent, if not a little snotty.

“Um. I hope you’re feeling better. I’m here, y’know, if you need anything.” Elphaba had said, and retreated to her own bed.

There had been no reply for a long time, so Elphaba assumed Galinda had fallen asleep.

“I don’t need anything from you, artichoke. I’m perfect on my own.”

Elphaba had laughed, a little sadly.

She knew, deep down, Galinda probably didn’t mean that. She was just hurting.

As a child, Elphaba was subject to a lot of names, from a lot of people. Being autistic was hard enough, but being autistic and green? Well, the other children had a field day. She imagined, even back then, that those children felt something missing in themselves. That’s why they did what they did.

Often, Elphaba would cry for them, unable to shift the crushing weight of their emotions, those her brain had convinced her they may be feeling.

Her father had no interest in what did or didn’t happen to her, but Dulcibear would often tell her,

“Don’t change yourself for the world, my dear Elphaba. The world must change for you. One day, it will.” Elphaba knew she could never even try to change.

Growing up, isolated, alone, she had never learnt how to mask.

She had never learnt not to cover her ears, or not to tap her hands, or not to spout information at people. She had never understood why people didn’t care about the things she cared about, could never tamper down her anger when it came to injustice or doing the right thing. Could never work out why people were so incredibly hard to understand, why they didn’t just tell the truth, or do what they said they were going to.

Elphaba loved metaphors, when she was using them. She loved music, when she could control the volume. She loved art and history and magic and she never felt like being autistic, or green for that matter, was more important than those things. She knew other people did, she knew she was supposed to be ‘less.’ To make herself smaller, like Galinda had. Elphaba could just never understand how.

Nor did she imagine it was something that would have brought her much happiness - to hide.

So, she did not.

If Elphaba needed to flap her hands, she would. If she needed to put her headphones on, she would. If a conversation was too hard, she would walk away.

Of course, she might come across rude, or strange.

But that, surely, was better than what Galinda has going on.

The repression, the denial. It must all be so painful.

Elphaba can barely hold in an exciting fact without feeling like it’s burning in her chest.

That night, Elphaba had felt like a lonely child again. Full of the emotions of other people that did not care about her feelings.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Galinda.

The way that the bell had rung, and she had stayed, rooted to her chair. Her hands had shook, eventually clawing at her own skin, unaware that the classroom had emptied. There was something about the way she had tensed, the way she had made little noises, that Elphaba recognised. Sure, she was prone to a shutdown, rather than a meltdown, but still.

She understood.

So, Elphaba had lay awake for hours. She was never too good at sleeping anyway, but her chest had felt incredibly achy, and she had found herself crying, silently.

For herself, who had never stood a chance.

And for Galinda.

For the pain she was obviously feeling, and the pain she would not let herself feel.

“Why were you crying last night?”

Elphaba’s head shot up from her book. Now, how was she supposed to answer this one?

She looked at Galinda, through her pink vanity mirror.

Galinda was shifting in her chair, bouncing her leg, a little panicked as though a passing thought had suddenly become words without her consent.

“Oh. You heard that?” Elphaba murmured, her heart pounding in her chest. How embarrassing. She rapidly tapped her finger against her book, the rhythmic sound soothing the buzz in her hands.

“Yes.” She watched as Galinda swallowed, hard, staring at the hand tapping against her book.

“Did my artichoke comment really hurt your feelings that bad?” Elphaba shook her head.

“I’m used to that, Galinda. I’m- I was just overwhelmed. Being autistic-”

Galinda almost flinched at the word.

“Don’t say that word to me.” She sang, plastering a false smile on her face, and swiping a glittery makeup brush over her pink cheeks.

“I mean- I’m talking about me, Galinda. I just… Feel other people’s emotions, so strongly. Your pain - I don’t know - it sits on my chest. When you’re sad, I’m sad.”

Galinda didn’t mean to, truly she didn’t, but she laughed.

“Mm. Sounds like you caaare about me, Ms Thropp.” She hummed.

She watched as Elphaba’s cheeks flushed a dark green.

Interesting.

“No. I’m just autistic, Galinda.” She spat, shooting a rather pointed look at her through the mirror.

“Ooh! There’s that pesky word again!” Galinda sang.

She hated it, she never wanted to hear it again.

Everytime Elphaba said it, it was like a stab to her chest, a reminder that she understood herself, the reasons why, and she was just…Okay with it.

Elphaba rolled her eyes, the drumming got more intense, more rapid.

Galinda had turned back to her makeup bag, a false, tight smile on her lips.

Elphaba noticed how Galinda’s nails were scraping down her thigh under her vanity, and she stopped.

Her fingers became silent. She switched to tapping on her bed sheet, quiet.

It’s not that she would change for Galinda, of course not, but she would…accommodate Galinda, what she needed, if it would help. Elphaba suspected it may be the only time in her life that Galinda had been accommodated.

She watched Galinda relax, slightly. Her nails no longer scraping along her thigh. 

Galinda turned her head, slightly, watching Elphaba’s hand as it tapped.

“You don’t- You don’t have to stop making your little noises. Everyone already knows you’re autistic, Elphaba.”

Elphaba understood what Galinda was trying to say.

You don’t have to stop for me. You can do what you like. I can’t. I’m fine, I don’t need anything.

“I know, but sometimes…People need a little silence, right?” She smiled, a genuine smile.

Galinda let out a small noise, and turned back to her desk. Elphaba - somewhere in the back of her mind - noted that the conversation she had just had, hadn’t felt so…hard. The words hadn’t felt so stuck. Maybe she was getting somewhere - maybe she could help Galinda.

Not that it mattered.

She didn’t really care, right?

Later that night, Galinda bounced around the room, random screams of joy making their way out of her mouth.

Elphaba had never seen her so…herself. It was wonderful, but unnerving.

Until, she announced that she was going out.

“Fiyero asked me out.” She sang, and Elphaba watched as her hands - ever so slightly - gave a little flap.

“Mmm. Lovely.” Elphaba sighed. Great, lucky Galinda! There was a weird feeling in her stomach, as she watched the younger girl flounce around, dragging a gloss across her pink lips.

She gets it - Galinda is hiding herself, and is getting everything she wants. Elphaba is being herself, and is - well - lonely. Maybe Galinda was making the right choice after all.

That’s all it was.

She was just jealous. Not of Fiyero.

No, not Fiyero,

Galinda.

God.

Her head was a mess. She tapped her fingers against her palm, aggressively. She just wants to be cared about. Like Galinda is. That’s all that it is.

“We’re going to the Ozdust! Elphaba, it is going to be so romantical!”

Elphaba nodded. This was a show. Galinda was putting on a show, to hide the anxiety, to sweep over her meltdown? Elphaba wasn’t sure. She did know - however - that this was false.

She could tell, in the way that Galinda’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, and her blinking was rapid and hard. Her shoulders were tense, and she played with her hair.

Elphaba pretended not to see when she tugged at it, a little more aggressively than needed.

“That’s - uh - that’s gonna get a little loud, and busy. Are you su-”

“Well, that’s the best part. I’ll blend right in.”

There was a sad, gentle edge to Galinda’s voice, until she plastered her smile back on, and grabbed her bag.

“Don’t wait up!” She giggled, and then she was gone, her nails digging into her palms the whole time.

And Elphaba didn’t.

She truly did not mean to stay awake until the early hours of the morning.

But - her sleep schedule was almost non-existent, for her brain simply did not stop thinking.

She read a little, paced a little, tapped, and tapped, and read some more.

She wasn’t worried.

It’s just that Galinda had a meltdown the day before, and now? Now she was in a loud, busy, sweaty, club with some….some man who didn’t understand what she needed.

Then her phone rang.

Which was unusual.

She hated her phone ringing. It made her anxious.

And then she looked.

Unknown: pleas ansjwer . its glndida please

Elphaba sat up in her bed, and without even a second thought, she called the number back.

“Galinda?”

There was music, pounding, shouting, laughter and Elphaba had to take the phone away from her ear.

It made her stomach clench, her anxiety bubble, and talking suddenly felt so hard.

“Elphie? Can you- please can you come? I need you, I’m- I don’t-”

Galinda was crying. Galinda was crying, and Galinda sounded drunk, and scared and Elphaba had her coat on over her pyjamas and she was out the door in less than a second.

Just because she understood.

No other reason.

Walking into a club, green, with pyjamas and ear defenders on was certainly an experience.

Sure, she was stared at, but it didn’t matter.

Her hands flapped, aggressively, a long low noise coming out of her own mouth.

God, she could barely breathe in here. It felt suffocating.

Galinda.

Galinda probably felt the same.

She needed to find her.

The more people bumped into her, the more aggressive her hands flapped. Her body buzzed, like the sparks of a fire beginning. She wanted to go home. Why was she here? What was she doing?

And then she remembered.

For a girl, who was feeling exactly as she was, with no tools to deal with it.

A girl collapsed on the dirty bathroom floor, clawing at her own hair.

Her dress was partly ripped at her neck, as if she’d tried to wrench it off of herself.

A crowd of people stood around her, saying her name, touching her shoulders, cooing at her, petting at her.

Elphaba couldn’t imagine.

“Move.” It came out a whisper, talking was so hard. Nobody budged.

They kept fawning over Galinda, watching her like a zoo animal as she began to smack at her own head.

“Oh my GOD. MOVE.” Silence.

Elphaba didn’t know where it had come from.

The voice. She’d never spoken so loud, so confident.

She didn’t know she could.

The crowd stared at her, and scrambled.

“Galinda. It’s okay. It’s me. We need to get you out of here, my sweet.”

Galinda made no sign that she had heard Elphaba.

Elphaba’s hands flapped. What does she do? What could she do?

She took off her headphones. She winced.

The music burned in her ears. She put them over Galinda’s head, and got close to her, not touching.

“Galinda. I need to touch you. I’m sorry, I know it’s awful, but it’ll help. Okay?”

Galinda looked up for a moment. Her mascara had run all down her cheeks, she was making a wailing sound of some sort, her hands were hitting her head harder than before.

But she nodded. She - weirdly - trusted Elphaba.

Elphaba nodded, and winked, her eyes filled with emotion. This was hard for her too. The music was like nails on a chalkboard, without her headphones.

She wrapped her arms around Galinda, as tightly as she could, remembering how the pressure, the weight had helped her before.

And slowly, without regard for those still whispering around them, she began to rock Galinda.

And Galinda? Galinda let her.

They rocked, gently at first, together.

Galinda let her hands fall from where they had landed, gripping her hair.

Elphaba hummed, softly. She didn’t know if this was helping, she just knew what helped her. What had helped Galinda before.

“Good girl, you’re okay.” She whispered, her own tears falling onto Galinda’s hair.

Galinda breathed out, deeply, and the wailing noise she was making died down a little.

She looked at Elphaba. Deeply. Like she was really seeing her, and she brought her hands up.

And with her own scratched up, gentle hands, she covered Elphaba’s ears.

Suddenly, the world around them faded away. It was just the two of them, in a bubble. Something had changed - shifted. Something that told Galinda, maybe, just maybe, she - they -  were going to be okay. 

Chapter Text

Galinda’s phone had not stopped pinging.

All night.

Elphaba, typically, would have shoved her pillow over her ears, especially after the overwhelming night she’d had, and buried her face under the duvet. But, upon returning last night, Galinda had clung to Elphaba like a lifeline, her nails digging into her shoulders. She refused to stop the koala hugging, even when Elphaba suggested getting into pyjamas, taking her makeup off, and taking her hair down.

So, instead, Elphaba had wiped her face for her, gently taken her hair down, braided it into a beautiful french plait- - to keep it out of her way - and had unzipped her dress, delicately putting Galinda’s comfiest, flowiest, pinkest nightgown over her head. 

She didn’t look. At any other time, she may have. 

But Galinda needed someone right now that wanted to be there for her. Not her body, not her pretty face. Just her, quirks and all.

She had attempted to slide Galinda into her own bed, finding a ratty white kitten teddy shoved under her pillow. 

But Galinda had whimpered, clutched the floppy kitten with one hand, and Ekphaba with the other, and Elphaba - actually - rather liked the contact, maybe needed the contact after something like that.

That was where they usually differed, Elphaba had discovered. Galinda hated being touched unless she had initiated it. She had seen it, the flinches, small but there. She had watched Galinda come home with Fiyero, and as soon as he had let go of her hand and left, she would rush to wash her hands, as if trying to get the feeling off. 

Elphaba craved contact. Craved touch. Wanted nothing more than to run her hands along Galinda’s silk blouses, for no reason other than the texture felt like heaven under her fingers. She wanted to be held, squeezed tight, her arms stroked, her hair brushed. She wanted to be grounded by the feeling of someone’s hands tightening around her own. She needed contact like she needed air.

Instead, for her whole life, she went without. She found substitutes, weighted blankets, different textures she could touch, different ways she could dig things into her skin to give her the same sensation. 

Until Galinda had looked at her, with pleading eyes, scared eyes, and then at Elphaba’s own bed. 

So, Elphaba had peeled back the covers, and let Galinda collapse into her sheets.

It had felt - in a way - both right and wrong. It was so wonderful to finally have another in her bed, to hold, but the circumstances, the person, it wasn’t what she had expected. 

Galinda had pretty much glued herself to Elphaba, clinging tightly to the edge of her pyjama shirt. It had felt right, grounding. Galinda had never had contact like that before, it had always felt so painful. 

Elphaba had intended not to sleep, just in case, but the contact felt nice and she didn’t know if she’d ever have this again, and the night had exhausted her, the music, the people, the emotion.

She’d fallen asleep. Completely naturally, without pacing, without medication, without anything. Just Galinda, and a sense of comfort she’d never really felt before. 

Now, it was 7am, and Galinda’s phone was dinging, and dinging, and then ringing, and then ringing again. Galinda was none the wiser, dead asleep, the covers pulled over her head, hand still clinging to Elphaba’s pyjamas.

Elphaba - now awake, and for once, well rested - wasn’t going to look , obviously. It was none of her business. 

But she could assume what all the messages were about. People had their phones with them last night, in the bathroom. She didn’t know if anyone had filmed it - but probably - people, she had found, were rather heartless. 

When Galinda awoke, the first thing she did was reach for her phone.

“Oh. Good morning, thank  you!” Elphaba jumped up, grabbing the phone from her hand, and scurrying off with it.

“What are you doing?” Galinda asked, but there was no bite to her voice. She sounded tired.

“Nothing. Don’t even worry about it.” 

And she tucked Galinda’s phone onto the highest shelf she could possibly find. Thank god Galinda was so tiny.

“Trying to protect me? Don’t worry. I know it’s going to be awful.” Her eyes closed, and Elphaba was worried she might cry. Elphaba panicked when people cried, then she cried and suddenly it became something much too overwhelming. 

“Hey. Um- Galinda. It’ll blow over. People- they move on pretty quick.”

“Oh really? If the coolest, prettiest, most amazing girl you knew suddenly collapsed on the bathroom floor, screaming and smacking her own head, you’d just move on?” 

She was trying to joke, but it came out flat. Elphaba paused for a second.

“She did, and I would. If she wanted me to.”

Galinda froze. Did Elphaba - in a weird way - just call her pretty? 

“Well. That’s because you’re-”

Elphaba was expecting Galinda to say autistic, weird, a freak. Instead, she contemplated, blinking hard, pulling Elphaba’s duvet up to her chin.

“Kind.” She settled on.

Elphaba couldn’t help the small smile that spread over her face. Not what she was expecting at all. People had always called her things. Never kind. 

When she cried, Elphaba liked to be left alone, usually. When others cried, she figured that might help them too, usually. So, of course, she would walk away in the face of someone crying. She was called uncaring, a bitch . When she told her father that she would not accompany Nessa to a party to look after her, because it would not be suitable for her, she was simply telling the truth, but she was called selfish . When her classmates had discussed their new shoes, and had (now she realised, as a joke) asked Elphaba what she had thought, she would say she hated them, and they were impractical. She was simply telling the truth, trying to help. She was called rude . If she rapidly recited the dates of important historical battles, whilst tapping her hands together, to calm herself, to regulate, she was weird , a freak . 

Elphaba, in her heart, knew she was kind. It seemed as though her efforts did not translate well with other people. 

But Galinda. It was like Galinda could see through her - past the greenness, past the ‘weird’, into her soul.

And - Elphaba was starting to think, let herself think, maybe Galinda didn’t hate what she had discovered. 

She padded into their small kitchen area, and brought out the water bottle, and painkillers she had prepared for Galinda last night, placing them on her own bedside table.

“Thought you might need these.”

Galinda looked at the table as if she had never seen a water bottle before, and then at Elphaba, like she had never seen her before. She smiled, gratefully, and swallowed the pills, capping her water bottle again.

“Elphaba. ‘M sorry.” She whispered, looking so small, so delicate wrapped in green sheets, that Elphaba almost wanted to scoop her up, hold her. 

“For what? You don’t have to apologise.”

Galinda flapped her hands a little, and then shoved them to her sides. 

“Hey,” Elphaba muttered, moving to sit in front of her. “You don’t have to do that - hide. It’s okay.”

Something - maybe the urge for contact - maybe the weird pull in her chest when she looked at Galinda - forced her to take hold of Galinda’s hands, and hold them, like water in her own.

“Let them dance, if they need to.”

Galinda looked at her, there were unshed tears in her warm eyes, as she shook her head, sniffing hard. 

“Momsie always said I needed to have quiet hands. Quiet hands aren’t embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for who? Her? Because, this isn’t about her, Galinda. It never was. This is about you, what you need. I found that embracing myself, who I am, what I need, was the biggest fuck you to my father I could think of. I’m so much happier, Galinda. It is so hard, but I am happy. You deserve to be happy, to be free. To stop hiding, Galinda. Look at what’s happening to you. Our parents - sometimes, they mean well, sometimes they don’t, but we are not them. We don’t live for them, for what they want. You have to let yourself be okay with things being about you, real you, not you with a mask on. Not the mean, airheaded, self absorbed person you’re pretending to be, so that people will like you. I like you, as you. Give other people a chance to, Galinda. Please. It’ll kill you if you don’t.” 

She hated saying the last part. 

But it was true. Hiding yourself, for your whole life, makes life incredibly painful, incredibly lonely, incredibly shallow. She couldn’t let that happen to Galinda. 

The tears spilt over, and ran down Galinda’s pink cheeks, as she lifted her hands and flapped them. She let out her little noises, she rocked and she cried. She cried for herself, who had hidden her true self so deeply that finding it felt like clawing at nothing for a while, and for little Galinda. For the pain, the confusion, the hatred she had held for herself, her inability to understand why she couldn’t just pull herself together. For the little Galinda who had looked at herself in the mirror, practised how to smile, who had written physical  scripts on how to talk to people, who had tried so hard, but would still hit her own head, and scream at herself that she was a disappointment.  

The voice, she had realised, was never hers though. 

But her mothers. 

She cried, and whined, but  she was not overwhelmed as she had been. This was different, this was realisation. This was freedom.

“Elphie?” Elphaba’s heart stuttered at the nickname, but she nodded, nonetheless. 

“Why… Am I like this?” 

Elphaba smiled, gently. 

“I think- I think you might be… like me.”

Galinda looked down, hand twisting at the ends of her hair, gentler than usual.

“I think I might be too.” Galinda’s smile was watery, but for once, it reached her eyes. 

“How- um - how does that make you feel?” Elphaba asked. She put a hand down, hovering over Galinda’s hand. She wanted to touch, but she didn’t know if that was okay. 

Galinda made the decision for her, grabbing her fingers, and intertwining them with her own. 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly, stroking at Elphaba’s fingers. Elphaba had to try hard not to melt - the touch, the pressure of Galinda’s fingers - it helped to calm her brain.

“I have some unlearning to do,” she whispered, “some things I need to understand, questions I have.”

Elphaba nodded. She got that.

“But, honestly? I  think-” Galinda leaned her forehead against Elphaba’s, her eyes flickering over her face.

“I think I’m honoured to be anything like you , Elphie.” 

Elphaba - for the first time in her life - was overcome with the want to kiss someone. It was not something she had ever thought about in her life, it was not something she had ever really craved.

She had imagined the sensory experience of it all might be too much, after all, she hated the feeling of wet, and the feeling and the taste of slippery lipgloss, and the heat of breath on her face.

But sat there, with Galinda, lipgloss-less, forehead pressed firmly against her own, soft and perfect - she wanted it so badly .  

Galinda’s eyes flickered down. 

She wanted it too. 

Elphaba’s breath hitched, as Galinda’s eyes remained on her lips, and she leaned in, impossibly closer. 

She paused, giving Galinda a chance to say no. This was a big moment for her, so many emotions, perhaps now was not the right time.

And what about Fiyero? Galinda didn’t even like her, she was just feeling fragile, high off of vulnerability, she shouldn’t-

“Elphie. This is me. The real me. I promise. Please.” 

Elphaba almost gasped. It was as if Galinda could read her thoughts. 

“Are you sure? This has been a lot.”

Galinda stroked the side of Elphaba’s face, and Elphaba’s hand tapped against Galinda’s back. 

“To stop hiding, I need to embrace everything, right?. Who I am, what I need. ” She swallowed thickly, her body buzzing, “and what I need, what I have needed for a long time, Elphie, is you.”

When their lips touched, it was as if a bubble had formed around them again. The gasp from Galinda’s mouth was not too loud in Elphaba’s ears, the gentle caress of Elphaba’s hands on Galinda’s face and back felt grounding, not burning. It was just right, just enough, perfect. For the first time, neither girl felt like too much , with the knowledge that the person holding them accepted them, truly cared to know and be there for each and every part of them.

“Will you stay here with me?” Galinda asked, pulling at Elphaba. “No class.”

“We can’t avoid people forever. As nice as that sounds.”

Galinda shook her head, pawing at Elphaba’s hair, brushing her fingers through it.

“I know. Just today. I just need time. And you, always you. Please.”

Elphaba nodded, and pulled Galinda partially on top of her. 

“I have you, as long as you want me. I also have fidgets, weighted blankets, and ear defenders, which might come in handy, huh?” She joked, nosing at Galinda’s cheek. 

She felt Galinda smile above her. 

“I think I’ll buy my own. Pink, glittery ones.” 

Galinda giggled, and Elphaba’s heart pulled. Yeah, they were definitely going to be just fine .

Perfect, even.