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Elphaba isn’t blind.
She can see that Galinda is doing everything to one-up her at anything. From the measly electives to the most difficult subject in all Shiz, the blonde has always worked hard to take her down a peg or two.
Most of the attempts are a fail, but Elphaba sees a potential in one class.
One class only. That one blasted class that Elphaba dreads to go to and refuses to exert more than 50% of her will into.
Physical Education.
It’s not supposed to be mandatory, but Shiz highly encouraged everyone to join the class to keep them healthy. Of course, by highly encouraging , it means mandatory for the noble-born students.
(Don’t ask her. She doesn’t know why the class segregation exists, either.)
Thankfully, it’s the kind of class that isn’t particularly about learning anything useful—it’s more about showing that you have the strength and stamina to keep up with the more physical demands of life. Once a month, the students are required to attend, and the class evaluates their fitness, and whatever physical activity might suit them best, given their body types.
As the Thropp successor, Elphaba was taught everything she needs to know before she’s of age and becomes Eminent Thropp following her great grandfather—from etiquette, social decorum, and even more physically-demanding things like basic swordsmanship and horseback riding that she needs to know for survival. After ten years of those private classes, Elphaba can conclude one thing: She’s terrible at anything physical.
Thankfully, it seems that she’s not the only one, either. Galinda doesn’t look like she has ever seen a sword in all her life, let alone holding one. She—like all typical Gillikinese—is petite and barely even has an ounce of muscle attached to her bones. Elphaba reckons she can be blown by a strong gust of wind.
However, Elphaba can earnestly say that Galinda isn’t as helpless as Elphaba is in physical combat. Her steps and the way she moves the training staff are surprisingly fluid and graceful, far from her usual clumsiness. She always looks like she’s dancing, her lithe arms and legs working together wonderfully in dodging every blow instead of parrying and blocking.
But her strength and power? Dreadful .
She squeals whenever her training staff smashes against Elphaba’s, her grip trembling as the impact reverberates through her arms. It only needs a few hits to send the blonde stumbling back, and falling to the ground.
Elphaba isn’t very athletic, but she can thank her sturdy Munchkinlander build for that. It gives her the advantage of having some level of stability, though she’s exceedingly lacking in the agility department. If Galinda wasn’t the usual dainty Gillikenese, then perhaps Elphaba wouldn’t be so lucky sparring against her.
When Elphaba said that she sees potential in losing against Galinda in this one class, she’s not actually being generous.
Elphaba genuinely thinks she might not stand a chance.
Elphaba isn’t blind.
She sees that the loss ignites something in Galinda. Something worse than the usual humiliation reflected in the blonde’s eyes whenever Elphaba took the victory flag. As if something in her snapped .
After the first Physical Education evaluation that day, Galinda joins the Swordsmanship Club. There’s a talk about how Galinda wants to join both the Marksman Club and the Equestrian Club, but is discouraged by Pfannee, who apparently can’t stand his dainty best friend hanging around those ‘rugged hunks’.
At first, Elphaba thinks that it’s just a fluke—a fleeting whim that will be abandoned soon. Galinda has always been a sore loser, but to join something as serious as Swordsmanship club when Galinda fits more into the usual feminine stereotypes of a noblewoman? Elphaba believes strongly Galinda does that to catch her off guard.
But she’s proven wrong. She knows better than to ignore what her eyes see—how that humiliation that day sends Galinda spiraling due to reason unknown.
Galinda has been religiously attending those early-morning practice sessions before class and even joins the seniors in evening practices every few days. Most of those evening practices consist of more things that certainly don’t fit the picture Elphaba has of Galinda, who has the image of an untouchable princess rather than a renowned knight. It’s just hard to picture Galinda in a training shirt and pants getting all dirty and sweaty, honestly.
Her opinion shifts the moment she sees Galinda come home from one of those evening practice sessions. Her hair, usually neatly braided to the side and curled perfectly at the end, is only in a simple but messy ponytail. She’s not using that ridiculous frilly outfit she wore during evaluation, but a simple cream shirt and trousers. It’s not fair how Galinda still looks amazingly radiant with only a simple attire. Smells sinfully amazing, too—but not that Elphaba ever wants to admit that.
Her effort is undeniable as it is evident during the second evaluation. Elphaba has heard murmurs about Galinda attracting both girls and boys alike into watching Swordmanship Club’s morning practice sessions, and how they notice that Galinda’s skill is far from laughable. Everyone seems to note that Galinda looks like she’s dancing whenever she wields her sword, her movement graceful and calculated.
It makes sense, Elphaba thinks. Good footwork is essential for both dancing and fighting, after all. What she needs to work on is her strength, but Elphaba thinks it can be improved in due time.
Just as she expected, Galinda breezes through this month’s evaluation, except for anything that is strength-related. She performed quite well, actually, particularly in areas requiring balance, agility, and precision; given her last disastrous evaluation. Sadly, there isn’t any sparring scheduled that day. Elphaba can see Galinda is disappointed hearing the announcement, but at least Galinda got higher marks on several drills than Elphaba that day.
See? It’s only the second evaluation and Elphaba is already losing.
Elphaba isn’t blind.
She can see all of those hard work start physically apparent the moment she hears Galinda muttering and stressing out with her clothes.
Intrigued, Elphaba peeks into Galinda’s side of the room, her head past through the pink partition. “Something the matter?” She asks, and immediately regretting the decision.
Standing in front of the open wardrobe, Galinda is only wrapped in her usual fluffy pink towel, the edges tucked at her chest. It’s not an unusual sight, since that blonde roommate of hers has always been comfortable in her skin, always shamelessly flouncing around the room with only a towel wrapped around her body every morning.
But there’s something different now. The soft contour of her arms has become more… defined . She still looks like a twig, all lithe and dainty; but there’s subtle strength and firmness that is shown on her frame. She looks sturdier now, with slightly broader shoulders and silhouette a tad fuller.
It’s all subtle, but Elphaba can see that.
She tries not to stare, but ultimately fails.
“I think I’m getting fat,” Galinda hisses, turning around dramatically to face Elphaba before diving back to her wardrobe to stress-finding clothes again, sifting through the pinks to find anything else. “None of my uniforms fit anymore!”
Elphaba tries to ignore the swell of Galinda’s biceps and triceps. They look… deliciously fuller now. Sturdier. Stronger. But still so distractifyingly dainty and flowing with femininity.
She wonders how it feels to be wrapped by those arms.
Elphaba stops.
Where did it come from?
Shrugging the thoughts off her mind, Elphaba looks around, grimacing at the mountain of uniforms flung hapzahardly all around the area. “You were wearing one of these yesterday, though,” Elphaba points at the pink shirts scattered on the bed, one eyebrow arching. “It looks fine.”
“I was, but it’s so tight ! I can’t take it anymore!”
True. Elphaba overheard that Galinda had been discarding her outers as of late. She can blame it on the increasingly warm weather, but even someone with an eye affliction like Elphaba can see that the pink shirts are fighting for their lives wrapping around Galinda’s body.
“I don’t think you’ve been getting fatter.” More muscular is more of the case , Elphaba adds in her mind. Her gaze falls over to the subtle lines on Galinda’s back muscles now, how they flex with every movement her blonde roommate made.
How does it feel raking her nails across that—wait, who said that?
Galinda’s huff snaps her out of her spiraling thoughts.
“No, I am! Pfannee told me I’ve been pigging out!” she whines, rolling her eyes, and sits dramatically by her bed. “This is a disaster! I’m never touching food again!”
She has been, Elphaba agrees. It’s not rare for Elphaba to overhear Pfannee and Shenshen scolding Galinda for wolving down her food after practice. Such doings are usually highly encouraged by Fiyero, who appears to be the enabler of it all, it seems.
Maybe. Elphaba isn’t so sure.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You need food to survive,” Elphaba points out dryly.
“ Ugh ,” Galinda groans, her back plopping down dramatically against the mattress. The motion causes her pink towel to inch up, showing a bit more of her toned, creamy thighs. “But I can’t go around in this towel forever!” She whines petulantly, shifting on the bed, causing the towel to reveal more.
Oh. Elphaba can’t stop the urge to bite her lip, her control slipping. There’s a needy ache pooling on her belly, spreading through the area between her thighs; heated and throbbing and thirsting . Her imagination runs wild, her frayed brain cells picturing what it would feel like having one of them between her legs, dragging lazily back and forth until—
Stop. Stop that, Elphaba Thropp! Elphaba forcefully shuts her eyes, shaking her head to clear her mind. It’s a dangerous thought, Elphaba realizes—one so vivid and consuming that she can hardly believe her mind is capable of conjuring it.
Finally, Elphaba flutters her eyes open, clearing her throat. “I can lend you my winter uniform,” she offers awkwardly, “I’m—bigger than you, so it might fit. Or maybe a little loose on you, I suppose.”
Galinda sits up immediately, her head snapping to look at Elphaba. The sudden movement causes the precariously tucked pink towel on her chest to falter slightly, almost causing the towel to dangerously unravel completely. Elphaba almost loses it as it tugs downward, showing more of her cleavage.
“Is it long-sleeved?” She asks, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "You know it's getting hot here, dear roommate of mine! You couldn't possibly think to torture me with such arrangement?!"
Elphaba tries her hardest to snap her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landing on Galinda’s pretty neck is her best attempt. Damn it. “You can always roll the sleeves back,” Elphaba replies, aiming to sound irritated but her voice wavered at the end.
“Hmph!” The blonde springs to her feet again, her arms crossing over her towel as she stands. Elphaba blinks when she realizes she’s no longer tipping her head slightly down to meet Galinda’s chocolate brown eyes despite her already wearing her usual black boots. Galinda isn’t wearing any shoes or slippers either, but somehow she manages to meet her gaze head-on
Oh, that’s quite the perfect height.
Galinda whips around to walk toward her wardrobe again, grunting dramatically before she relents. “Very well, Miss Elphaba! I suppose I can borrow your shirts while I ask Popsicle to send me new dresses and shirts!”
Elphaba doesn’t respond.
Galinda pauses, a frown etching on her face once she catches the distracted look in Elphaba’s eyes. She sniffs haughtily. “Miss Elphaba, are you even listening ?”
The green girl blinks out of her reverie, Galinda’s voice barely registers. “Uhm. Yes?” She squeaks helplessly, cheeks warming up at the thought of being caught.
Thankfully, Galinda doesn’t seem to notice the reason why. Galinda huffs as she crosses her arms again. Oh, that makes Elphaba more distracted. “I said, I’ll borrow your uniform for now!”
“Okay…” Elphaba nods absently as she speaks, her voice oddly hoarse. She clears her throat. “By the way, I ordered… pants, for winter instead of skirt. So you’ll have to deal with it.”
“Pants?!” Galinda sounds horrified. “Not the skirt-trouser thingy like Pfannee wears?!”
“...No.”
“This is outrageous!” The blonde wails again, scandalized. “ I , Galinda Upland, have to wear pants for school?!”
“Haven’t you been wearing one for your… swordsmanship and horse riding stuff?” The green girl arches her eyebrow, again aiming to sound exasperated but it sounds like a meek query instead. “I reckon it’s not all that different.”
“They are vastly different!” Galinda fusses again, pacing around the room with only that distracting pink towel on. Elphaba tries her hardest not to have her eyes noticing the way the pink abomination clings to her roommate’s hips, but clearly, she is failing. “Dreadful. Absolutely hideodeously dreadful!”
“...Then wear your skirt?” Elphaba helpfully supplies.
“I can’t do that!” Galinda cries out, even more scandalized. “The colors don’t match! It is an insult to the fashion world.”
Elphaba rolls her eyes. “ Right .”
“But you know what? Fine .” Galinda throws her hands up in defeat, then saunters close again “I’ll wear those horrideodous pants.” She pauses, her tone softening. “I’m in your debt, Elphaba.” She adds, a little shyly now.
“Good,” Elphaba grunts, her tone noncommittal. She hastily moves to her significantly smaller wardrobe, her movement stiff. After a quick moment, she drags out a neatly folded set of winter uniform, one hand offering it reluctantly to Galinda. “I only have this one jacket, so you’ll have to do with only a vest and shirt on.”
“It’s perfectly fine!” The blonde chirps, all but snatches the uniform off her hands. “Thank you in advance, dearest roommate!” she beams and disappears back into the bathroom.
Elphaba leans weakly against Galinda’s bed. Lurline save her.
Galinda emerges, and oh, how Elphaba wishes she’s blind right now.
It’s not fair how Galinda looks distractifyingly handsome with that uniform instead of her usual pink ensemble. Elphaba always thought that Shiz vest looks unapologetically nerdy that it’s impossible for everyone to look good in it, but Galinda proves her wrong. The vest only accentuates her frame perfectly, showing off her subtle curves in all the right places.
“I suppose I still look fabulous,” Galinda sniffs vainly, admiring herself on her vanity while fixing her hair so it matches the new vibe. Once she’s done, she follows what Elphaba had told her: rolling up her sleeves until they are bunched on her elbows. Her forearms flex lightly, and again, Elphaba’s brain short-circuits.
It doesn’t help that since Elphaba ordered a shirt that demands to be buttoned till the top to give off her usual neat appearance, Galinda lets several of them unbuttoned still, exposing her clavicles and a bit of her cleavage. She’s briefly reminded of how Galinda never seems to button her shirt to the top because of the stylistic frilly collars.
Galinda continues to eye herself in the mirror, twirling. Now, Elphaba’s focus is on Galinda’s backside. They look fuller than she remembers.
Snap out of it, Elphaba Thropp!
“I feel indecently exposed,” Galinda admits, pouting theatrically, though she looks positively happy with how Elphaba’s shirt and trousers hugged her frame. “Something is screaming wild and untamed and it’s definitely not the refined style of Galinda Upland!”
Elphaba sighs. “Try buttoning it to the top,” she says tersely, both irritated and on the different side of on edge.
“I feel suffocated,” Galinda admits, shaking her head as she fixes the collar. "Geez, why the cut is so low?!"
“Wear pins,” Elphaba grits out this time, both patience and composure wearing dangerously thin.
“I’ll just stab myself with that!” Galinda cries out.
This child .
“Come here, I’ll help you wear it.”
Galinda moves begrudgingly to Elphaba. She’s now wearing dark boots that Elphaba has never seen before, probably to match it with her new uniform. Elphaba isn’t imagining it. Galinda has grown taller.
“How old are you?” Elphaba suddenly asks, more of a distraction rather than genuinely curious. She needs Galinda to stay distracted if she doesn’t want her rival to see how her hands are trembling.
“I’m eighteen.” Ah, that explains the present growth spurt.
“Oh. You’re Nessa’s age,” Elphaba manages to remark, willing herself to sound as disinterested as possible. Her hands fumble again, and she curses under her breath. Using pins has never been so difficult, damn it. It doesn’t help that Galinda smells wonderful this close , the traitorous part of her thinks.
Good thing that Galinda doesn’t seem to notice that.
“Who?”
That earns her a long-suffering look. “The tragically beautiful one. As you so kindly put it.”
“Of course.” Galinda snorts, tilting her chin up in that dramatic, haughty way of hers. Usually, Elphaba finds the gesture irritating, but the motion only exposes more of her neck. It takes all of her willpower not to lean close and inhale that enthralling sweet scent of her perfume from its source. “I know you’re older than me, but do enlighten me how old you are.”
The pin snaps shut. Elphaba reels back as she exhales.
“I’m around two years older than Nessa. Do the math yourself.”
Galinda rolls her eyes, stepping back with an exaggerated harrumph. “Fine,” she sniffs as she marches to her bed to swipe her pink bag with the usual dramatic flourish before turning back to Elphaba and pausing for a moment. Her expression turns shyer now. “Thanks again, by the way,” she says, her tone soft and sincere. “I mean it. Really.”
Elphaba nods stiffly, trying to ignore the unsteady rhythm of her heart following Galinda’s sincere words. “Just… Don’t take my uniform to your club activities,” she says, sounding much quieter than she intended. “I’d hate to see them ruined.”
The younger harrumps again, pouting petulantly. However, it’s quick to falter, replaced by a solemn expression and a determined nod. “I won’t,” she promises.
And with that, Galinda is gone, leaving Elphaba alone in her room.
She leans against Galinda’s vanity, cheeks uncomfortably warm and mind spiraling.
Lurline, do sincerely grant her patience. Galinda Upland is going to be the death of her.
Elphaba isn't blind.
She can see that she is falling for that annoying roommate of hers.
For the wrongest reason, no less.