Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Springtime settles over Shiz slowly, then all at once. The crocuses bloom soft in the meadows, ice dissolving and leaving the ground permanently damp so that Galinda has to be very careful when she wears her baby pink heels in the grass. And then it has truly arrived in earnest, all around and heavy with the promise of it. There’s a richness to the dirt from the rain, a tenderness to the very air.

And oh, how Galinda loves springtime. It's the color of it, the anticipation, the way the sun looms lazily above even in the early evening so that when she and Elphaba trail their way from the Buttery to their room after dinner it’s still orange and glowy.

It’s Elphie too that’s putting Galinda in a good mood. She isn’t sure if it’s the weather, but in the long months since Lurlinemas Elphaba has exuded a certain lightness, an ease about her that Galinda is certain she didn’t have when they’d first met. She’s almost joyful, easy to talk to and willing to take rambling walks along the banks of the Suicide Canal and chatter on about whatever new book Dillamond had lent her.

And Galinda is in love. With the world, with her school, with Elphaba. What could possibly be more beautiful than that? It’s easy to feel such a way when Elphie smiles at her so softly, listens to her so patiently, brightens so prettily when Galinda says something she thinks is smart. She is young, and the trees are budding, and nothing will ever come between her and Elphaba. Ever ever.

The whole group of her friends are clustered together when she arrives at lunch one day and Galinda, who has never in her life lacked friends, feels it glow within her. True enough, she’s never lacked a companion. But those companions were so often one dimensional, parroting her exact opinions back to her and waiting for her approval.

These friends are different, so different she can hardly believe it. Opinionated, loud, brash, funny, affectionate. Nessa, sweet and earnest with her. Crope, who ruffles her hair when he can. Tibbett, who talks too loud and too fast in the most endearing way Galinda can imagine. Boq and Fiyero, both so kind and stable and ridiculous, at the core of it. Elphaba, who is Elphaba.

“They posted the date for the Spring Formal,” Tibbett says offhandedly once Galinda has. sat down, adjusting his tray on the hardwood table.

“What?” Galinda exclaims, fork clattering to her plate loudly. Elphaba looks startled beside her. “And I didn’t know? How did I not know? When is it, Tibbett?”

“Two weeks. They’ve hired a quartet from the Emerald City for it, too, I heard a rumor that they played at the Wizard’s Lurlinemas party last year. So they must be good.”

“Two weeks! Oh, Oz,” Galinda finds herself picking at a fingernail. “I have to choose a color scheme, and the jewelry— do I go with the pearls or the rubies, or the opal set Momsie gave me? Oh, how disastrous. I’ll need to start planning immediately.”

Crope snorts, hiding it by taking a long sip of his drink. “Well, tickets go on sale today,” Fiyero mentions, “so that’s one thing to check off your list.”

“Oh, excellent. We’ll go after class. Won’t we, Elphie?”

Elphaba looks up from her plate, eyes wide. “We… will?”

“Well, of course. They’re free, you know, we just need to reserve a spot for the catering and—,”

“It’s only,” Elphaba says slowly, “I wasn’t aware I was… well. Going.”

Crope’s eyes widen, glancing at Galinda with the hint of a laugh on his lips. Because Galinda’s own mouth has fallen open, incredulous and disbelieving.

“Elphie,” she manages finally. “You have to go. You must! It’s the Spring Formal, everyone will be there and they’ll have champagne and canapes and music and… and… and I need someone to dance with!”

Perhaps the last part of her little outburst had been too honest. She feels her cheeks heat up, but Elphaba seems to soften at that. She’s looking at Galinda in a very particular way, a way that only Elphie does and only recently. It’s like words pass between them with that look, but Galinda doesn’t know what it is she’s saying back. Sometimes life feels like that, like the world knows where she’s meant to be and what she’s meant to do before she herself does.

But there must be something in her own face because after a moment Elphaba nods, just once. “Alright,” she says, and smiles as Galinda perks up. “But I don’t have a dress.”

Galinda gasps. “Do you know who you’re talking to? We’ll go this weekend. No, sooner! Maybe something blue, or… oh, I imagine a dark purple would work, too. And accessories, of course— a necklace, maybe some flowers in your hair, and…”

“Oh, someone save us all,” Crope mutters, and Tibbett snickers.

“Hush, you,” Galinda says with a teasing little glare.

“I don’t mind,” Elphaba murmurs back in the same moment. Galinda turns, then, and looks her way. She smiles.

—

And those two weeks later Galinda leans against a stone pillar, champagne flute in hand, trying not to look sour.

It’s been a beautiful night. The tall arches of Shiz’s Great Hall are laced with garlands of flowers and ivy, and there are twinkly golden lights all across the walls. The tall glass windows have collected moisture from the rain that morning, rain that had subsided and left just cool air in its wake. It’s a beautiful party, and Galinda looks beautiful at it.

And so does Elphaba. Galinda had helped her get ready, had chosen that deep purple silky dress that looks made for her. She’d placed the little flower crown in her hair, violets and daisies alternating and making Elphaba look like a fairy or a goddess. Divine, of course.

They’d even arrived together from their room, hands clasped. It made Galinda feel very bright, special. She’d been whispering snide little comments in Elphaba’s ear the whole way down the stairs, purely to make her giggle and clutch Galinda’s arm tighter. They looked good together, looked right— Elphie in deep purple and gold, Galinda in a gorgeous off white dress she’d saved for a special occasion. It had puff sleeves, after all.

But then they’d gone through the doors and Elphie had held on tighter before Pfannee and Shenshen appeared out of nowhere and yanked Galinda away towards the dance floor. When she’d finally managed to free herself Elphie had been dancing with Boq, both of them laughing too hard to follow the music. And now she doesn’t see the girl anywhere, no flower crown or gold necklaces or silk draping low over her collarbones.

“You look glum.”

She turns, twisting the stem of her glass between two fingers. It’s Fiyero, dapper and tall and with a little bowtie on. She’d laugh, but he’s able to pull it off.

“You look drunk.”

He laughs. “Only a bit. Of course I need to be sober enough to dance.”

“Oh, of course.”

The song playing comes to a brassy finish and students stop to applaud before the quartet launches into another number, this one more upbeat. Fiyero extends a hand.

“Speaking of dancing,” he says, and she gives him a look, “would you do me the honor?”

“I can’t find Elphie,” she says in lieu of a response. Fiyero’s eyebrows raise as if he’s holding in a laugh, or perhaps it’s incredulity.

“How would it look, Miss Galinda, if all of our peers saw you turn me down for a dance? Why, none of the girls would spare me a second glance for the rest of the night!”

She rolls her eyes. But beneath all his grandeur, Fiyero is one of her closest friends. Even if he’s a terrible flirt.

“Fine,” she says, placing her glass down on a smooth creamy tablecloth and adjusting the waist of her dress. “One dance. And then I’m going to look for Elphaba.”

“I’m sure,” Fiyero is smirking down at her, and she feels her face heat up just the slightest bit. She takes his hand and they step onto the dance floor.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Fiyero assures, and there are a million couples around them but Galinda wants what she wants, wants her hands on Elphie’s waist and to sway them and maybe make her blush, maybe call her pretty, to maybe hope she looks at Galinda where her dress is cinched or where the neckline is low. “Just… you and Elphaba have gotten quite inseparable, haven’t you?”

“Oz, Fiyero, she’s amazing,” Galinda groans, lets her head fall on his shoulder. “I love her, probably. I think.”

He chuckles. “You said it, not me.”

“Well, you don’t need to be all smug about it.” She’s smiling, though, and leans back to watch Fiyero smile.

“Galinda, darling, with all the love in my heart— you aren’t exactly subtle.”

She pauses, and they still until they’re simply standing on the dance floor facing each other. The air smells like flowers. Galinda meets Fiyero’s eyes and there’s a knowing little glimmer in them and she can’t help it when she starts to giggle.

Fiyero joins in, too, and soon enough they’re laughing and clutching each other. The couple that had been swaying romantically nearby looks over, alarmed, and dances deliberately in the other direction. It only makes Galinda laugh harder.

“You won’t… you won’t tell her, will you?” she asks when she’s finally caught her breath. Because it’s Elphie, with whom Galinda has to be so delicate and careful. For whom she’d wait, if that’s what Elphaba wanted.

“Course not. I wouldn’t do that to you,” Fiyero says easily, and gives Galinda a little spin. She smiles and lets him, lets the pearlescent fabric of her dress fan out around her.

She wouldn't tell Fiyero this, it’d only get to his head, but it’s possible that he’s made her feel better. Just a little bit.

“Now,” he says when she’s rotated back to face him, “I can’t make any promises, but I think I might’ve seen Elphaba go out to the courtyard a few minutes back.”

Her eyes widen and she lets go of him quickly, heels clacking as she rushes off the floor. “Thank you! I’ll see you later, I promise,” she calls, and he raises a bemused hand before making his way toward a small pack of adoring girls.

The air changes instantly when she’s stepped through the arched doors, muffling the music and chatter and the spectacle of it all. Galinda likes spectacle, she thrives in it. But lately— and maybe it’s Elphaba’s influence, she isn’t sure— lately, she finds that the moments she cherishes the most, the ones she wants to scoop up and hold close to her chest while she drifts off to sleep, are the simplest ones of all.

Like getting a good grade on her last History paper, returned to her facedown and private. Like getting ice cream in Shiz proper with Elphaba and Nessa, having it drip down their wrists and watching the girls laugh. Like reading aloud to Elphaba while she organizes her desk. Like doing a crossword with Elphie on their floor, her friend poking her happily whenever Galinda figures out a particularly tricky clue. Like Elphie letting her take her hand while they walked between classes, between shops, between meals. Like Elphie, in general.

It’s cooler outside, and she shivers as she looks down the long cloister between the courtyard and the warm glow of the windows. A figure that looks, at second glance, suspiciously like Elphaba is sitting under one of the archways there, looking out into the gardens.

“Elphie?” she says softly, so as not to startle her. But Elphaba turns around with a smile on her face when she hears Galinda’s voice, pats the sill beside her.

Relieved that she isn’t upset, or crying, or maimed in some dreadful way, Galinda smiles back and perches next to her, legs pointing toward the wall facing the opposite direction. It’s silent for a moment.

“It’s a beautiful party,” Elphaba says eventually, and Galinda looks over to find her eyes already on her. She nods.

“And you look beautiful at it,” she says, poking Elphaba’s arm where the purple silk drapes.

“You flatter me,” Elphaba says teasingly, and then, after a beat, “so do you, of course. You remind me of a seashell. Or a pearl.”

It’s so Elphie, the strange way about her, the awkwardness of her compliments and the way they mean more, feel more genuine than any of the other empty praises people have sung to her in the two decades of her life. It makes her turn pink, though luckily it’s dark enough she’s sure Elphaba can’t see it.

“Why are you out here all alone?” she asks instead, curling her arms around herself for warmth.

Elphaba cocks her head contemplatively. “I don’t know,” she replies finally, and Galinda giggles. Elphaba turns, then, bringing her legs up to the bench so that she’s facing Galinda’s side.

“Well, it’s nice out here,” Galinda comments. “But of course I will need to go back in eventually. There are a lot of people I haven’t mingled with yet.”

“Of course,” Elphaba says, and it sounds fond. Galinda hopes it’s fond. “Are you cold, Galinda?”

“Just a little,” she says, and Elphaba starts to stand. “No, no, let’s not go yet, I just—,”

“I wasn’t going to.” Elphaba’s smiling, and then she offers Galinda a hand.

“What?”

Elphaba pulls her to her feet. And, closer to the windows, the music seeps out and through the glass. It’s muted, only the sounds of their shoes echoing in the cloister register as real. Behind those windows is a dreamscape, and Galinda feels full with the sensation of it.

And with an unrestrained sort of joy, a sort of tumbling grace, Elphaba is skipping forward. She ducks past the window, smiling back at Galinda as she does it, and then she spins wildly, half running and half twirling and stopping short just before she reaches the next window. And then, with her eyebrows raised, she waves at Galinda to join her.

The Galinda of the autumn would think this completely alien to the brusque, stiff behavior of her roommate. But this was Galinda of the spring, and now she knew better. This was Elphie, the kind of girl who was just a little overexcited and a little unrestrained. The kind of girl who could be impulsive, could be all of these things rolled up and scrambling down the hall of a dark courtyard in a ballgown.

“Come on!” she hisses, and Galinda laughs and follows. She walks slowly past the first tall window, casual and unsuspicious, and then breaks into a run, making figure eights and loops as she spins. Her dress unfolds around her, whirling as she does, and she collapses into Elphaba’s extended arm when she reaches it, breathless.

And then they go together— past the next window, slow and steady, and then prancing once more. The cloister is long, their shoes echo against the limestone floor, Galinda spins Elphaba around by the waist and they hold hands as they skip side by side, legs synchronized and dresses rumpling together.

It is strange, it is delightful. Elphaba’s arm is firm against hers, her eyes are alright. They’ve danced together before, and just like that first time it makes Galinda feel like she’s floating. Like the world has paused and zoomed in on the two of them, like things around them have hushed to watch. Like they are terribly important, and not just two girls gone temporarily missing at a school party.

Elphaba spins and her braids tickle Galinda’s cheek. Galinda hops up and down, gets Elphaba to join her, their breath hitching in the chilly air.

By the end of the hall they are panting, laughing. Elphaba’s flower crown is all askew, her face is flushed, and Galinda has her warm hand clasped between both of her own. It’s ridiculous— Elphaba’s exaggerated steps, Galinda’s twirls. But this is that sort of moment, that sort of cinematic and perfect and defining instant.

She squeezes her eyes shut, tries to commit it to memory. All of it, the way Elphie breathes beside her and the music from inside the party and the smell of the rain on the soil of the garden and the nipping chill to the air. I hope to remember this as long as I live, she thinks, and knows that she will.

“I’m starving,” Elphaba says abruptly, then. “Do you want to see if they’ve put out the saffron cream?”

Galinda blinks her eyes open once more. Elphie is close, eyes wide. She wants to kiss her, wants to spin her around again and tell her she adores her. She wants to move so close that there isn’t any inch of space between their bodies.

She flushes. “I love saffron cream.”

“Yes, I do believe you’ve mentioned,” Elphaba says, smiling. “Now let’s go, it’s cold out here.”

Their heels clip and clap as they run back to the doorway, breathless once more. And once they are back inside she’s still alight with the sensation of it, with the high. Elphaba’s eyes don’t leave her for the rest of the night, through the first and second helpings of saffron cream and the talking with friends and even the brief stint on the dance floor once again.

It’s not just a high— no, this is the night, its entirety summed up in Elphaba and she couldn’t be more pleased for it. They come and they leave together. Galinda has always liked for her things to be hers, clear cut and precious.

And Galinda loves her, even more than she loves parties. Even more than she loves springtime.

Chapter Text

When Galinda had imagined college, long before Shiz had become a reality in her mind, it had looked something like this.

Hazy, undefined, springtime. A warm afternoon, a checkered blanket under her bare legs, books strewn around her haphazardly. Friends, friends who once had been faceless and nameless and now took shape before her— Crope and Tibbett, lying on the mown grass several feet away looking at the clouds. Boq and Fiyero, tossing a ball back and forth near the banks of the Suicide Canal. It gains height every pass, arching through the air parabolically and glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. Galinda feels it all around her, permeating and enveloping— their muffled conversation, the rustle of the leaves, the stream of the water.

And Elphaba is just inches from her on the blanket. She, of course, actually is doing schoolwork, lip worrying between her teeth and fingers clenched around a pen as she scribbles in the margins of a book. She’s captivating, Galinda is entranced.

Something in the very air had shifted, she’d first noticed it walking back to their room after the Spring Formal while Elphaba’s arm was linked solidly through her own. They were sweaty, her hair had been falling from the barrettes she’d so painstakingly clipped it in earlier that evening, Elphaba was breathless as they took the stairs two at a time. And it was the way she’d glowed in the courtyard earlier, dim light from the windows casting shadows. The way she’d run with Galinda, laughing, the way the flowers in her hair were all askew. Galinda had wanted to lean in closer, had wanted to attach herself to Elphaba and never let her go.

And Elphie had always been different from her other friends, always would be. It was the potential energy between them, suspended and ever present. The feeling like things were always meant to unfold this way, like everything about them— their dance at the Ozdust, the way Galinda sometimes woke up in the middle of the night and could hear nothing but Elphaba’s soft breathing— was written in the stars.

It’s too beautiful outside to do her readings, to study definitions. The picnic blanket is scratchy beneath her calves. She leans over to grab a stem of grapes from the picnic basket, lets her skirt flutter so that it hits Elphie in the leg.

But Elphaba doesn’t look up. Silently, Galinda studies the stem of grapes and picks the juiciest, roundest one to pick off and place on Elphaba’s leg, in the crease where her legs are folded between knee and thigh.

And a green hand comes silently out from behind the pages of the book to grab it, to pop it into Elphie’s mouth. Galinda hears it crunch, smiles privately before she does it again, letting the grape roll along the seam of Elphaba’s leg.

“I thought you were supposed to be practicing levitation spells,” Elphaba murmurs around the third grape in her mouth. Galinda huffs.

“How would you know that I’m not? You aren't even looking at me.”

Elphaba’s eyes poke over the top of her book, then, crinkling with amusement. It’s silly, Galinda knows it is, but she feels a rush of satisfaction at that. Of victory. Her chest aches, her stomach flutters.

“And anyway,” Galinda adds, popping a grape into her own mouth, “it’s too beautiful out to be worried about studying. That’s what winter was for.”

“I’m fairly certain our professors aren’t aware of that particular rule.”

“Oh, don’t be sour. All the other icicles melted weeks ago.”

“I’m an icicle now?” Elphaba says, amused, but she’s lowered the book and put her pen between the pages so that the cover flutters closed, forgotten. Galinda straightens up, adjusts her hair with Elphaba’s full attention on her.

“You’re about as stubborn as one.”

“And you’re ridiculous. Here,” Elphaba reaches out and grabs a cracker from the picnic basket beside them. Her gaze doesn’t move away from Galinda the whole time, though. “Try to levitate this. It’s good practice.”

“You’re dreadfully boring,” Galinda huffs, but she knows that Elphie knows there’s no venom behind it. Still, she steels herself with a deep inhale through her nose.

It’s horribly embarrassing and she’d never admit it, especially not to Madame Morrible, but she’s found she’s much better at sorcery when Elphaba’s watching. It’s just that Elphaba has this quality, this strange ability to make Galinda want to impress her. To try. It’s just that Elphie is so smart, and sometimes she seems to think Galinda is smart too. It’s that she lights up when Galinda engages, always tentatively, about politics or history. It’s that even when her ideas are half baked, opinions unpolished, Elphaba listens and nods and smiles.

She focuses on the cracker between Elphaba’s fingers, on the way the dusting of black pepper has rubbed off onto her fingertips. She thinks of how Elphaba had glanced at her proudly in class the day before last when she’d managed a spell, even though Morrible had already moved on. Of the way Elphie had closed her book, the way she wasn’t looking at Boq and Fiyero’s game or at the wind in the trees. The way she was looking at Galinda.

She feels a little flutter of pride when the cracker floats up, hovers a foot above Elphaba’s hand and quivers there. To cover up her smile, Galinda plucks it out of midair and takes a bite. The crumbs dust the lap of her sundress. Elphaba beams.

“And that's all the studying I plan to do today,” she says, pursing her lips. “You’re a terrible influence, Miss Elphaba.”

“Oh, I know,” Elphaba quips, and maybe Galinda is imagining it but it almost seems like she’s slid closer across the blanket. “Boring, and stubborn, and—,”

“Sorry!” Boq yells, and Galinda realizes why a second too late as the ball flops ungracefully between her and Elphaba. Elphie leans back but that smirk is still on her face, eyes bright.

“Sorry,” he says again, breathless as he jogs over to scoop the ball up from the blanket. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You could’ve killed someone,” Galinda chides cheerfully, watching Elphaba.

She snorts. “I doubt that.”

“Come play with us, then, Galinda!” Fiyero calls from his place over by the cluster of pine trees near the banks of the canal.

“To prevent you from murdering one of our most dearest friends? I should think not!”

“Oh, come on,” Boq adds, offering her a hand. “Fiyero’s showing me how they pitch in the Vinkus.”

Galinda lets her gaze slide back to the girl beside her. Elphaba is already watching her. Interesting. There’s a smile on her face that Galinda would like to believe is meant just for her, something private mixed in with all of her expressions. She nods her head in the direction of Boq, raises her eyebrows at Galinda.

And so Galinda sighs. “Fine,” she mumbles as she unfolds herself from the blanket, shakes out the skirt of her sundress and slips her feet from her heels. The grass between her toes is itchy, it is soft. “But I’d better not get hit.”

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” Fiyero quips when she’s followed Boq over to the trees.

“You’re welcome,” she says primly, giggles at Fiyero’s exaggerated little eye roll.

Sometimes Galinda sees her life in big strokes, in scenes she’s sure she’ll remember fifty years from now when she thinks of what it means to be young. What does it mean? She has the breeze in her hair, and the three of them call back and forth to each other when they toss the ball and she finds herself laughing, diving for it and feeling wildflowers tickle against her ankles.

This is how she will remember them, she knows it— flushed and smiling, Crope making fun of them from the grass while Tibbett laughs until he coughs. This is her youth, these are her school days, the same ones her parents always talk about wistfully.

“Galinda!” Fiyero calls, and then he’s throwing the ball fast and hard and it curves in midair but she leaps for it, diving. And she lands with her bare feet planted in the earth and startling a dandelion, its seeds scattering in the air.

Boq crows, throws his hands up to cheer for her and Galinda feels her eyes slip once again to the picnic blanket. Elphaba is still perched on it delicately, legs folded beside her, hair flowing all down her shoulder, and her books are still firmly shut. She’s watching Galinda, softness in her gaze and, once their eyes meet, she smiles.

Despite what Fiyero has to say about it, she is not showing off. It’s just that Elphie is watching, and Galida quite likes it when she’s impressed with her. When she smiles like that. So yes, maybe a few of her throws are a bit faster than necessary, a bit higher than Boq can reasonably reach. Once or twice she catches the ball at the last second, lets it fall into just one hand and chances a glimpse at Elphaba as it does.

“Oz, Galinda, slow down,” Boq gasps, the wind knocked out of him as he stands back up after diving for Galinda’s pitch, which had been headed fast for the canal. He tosses it back to her lightly. “It isn’t a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition, if you’re Galinda,” Tibbett chimes in. Crope snorts.

“Leave her alone, she’s just showing off,” Fiyero chirps. “For a certain roommate of hers, perhaps?”

Galinda’s face goes hot and she flicks her eyes away from Elphaba fast. With a little flourish, she throws the ball so that it hits Fiyero, quite lightly, in the nose.

After that, they can hardly continue the game— Boq is laughing so hard that he narrowly escapes slipping in the mud, and Fiyero makes a big show of checking his face for a blemish. Galinda flounces back to the blanket, trying to manage the way her heart had sped up at Fiyero’s little
observation. Elphaba is, as she so often is these days, there to greet her.

“There’s my athlete,” she quips, and Galinda beams as she hops her way onto the picnic blanket once again. Elphaba shifts over to make space and she lets herself curl up, arms circled around her own legs. She loves it when Elphie talks to her like this, a little humorous and a little extra attention paid and a little bit smirking. It’s moments like this that leave Galinda smiling long after, leave her wondering what makes Elphaba treat her so specially. Treat her like Galinda wants to be treated.

And oh, how shocking it would be to the girl who had arrived at Shiz in the first place to hear it, but… well. Galinda’s quite sure Elphie is one of the best things to ever happen to the world. Right alongside the invention of peanut brittle, and the creation of lace collars, and the making of her favorite pair of amethyst earrings.

“I must look positively disheveled,” she says, tilting her face up so that Elphaba can study her.

“Hardly. Even after attacking Fiyero.”

Galinda rolls her eyes with a huff, smiling all the while. “Well, I had to. He was being most disagreeable.”

Elphaba tuts in mock sympathy. “How horrendible. Why do we keep him around?”

“Why do we?” Galinda crows in agreement, shooting Fiyero a teasing glare. He chuckles like he can hear them even some distance away. She swings her head back around to beam at Elphie once more, who beams back. Galinda would very much like it if she could just keep Elphie looking right at her, could keep the sun overhead and the breeze in her hair.

And it’s a long afternoon. The hours creep past, the light changing as it hits them through the leaves of the trees. And Galinda is sure she couldn’t think of a more perfect way to spend her time.

The boys had drifted off some time ago, shedding their shoes and socks and hiking up their pants to wade in the shallow water. She can hear their laughter and splashing, but it’s all faraway and dreamy. Because she’s stretched out on the blanket, feet still bare and brushing against the grass and clovers, head resting carefully in Elphaba’s lap.

She isn’t sure if Elphaba’s still reading, or if she’s paying attention to Galinda at all— no, she’s too nervous to open her eyes and check. Instead she lies very still, so that Elphie won’t change her mind, and lets her card her fingers through Galinda’s hair. She’s unclipped Galinda's barrettes and has spread her curls out across her shoulders and it feels deliriously good, having Elphie’s hands on her. She resists the urge to press her face to her stomach, to lean into the touch.

She should write to her parents. My dear Momsie and Popsicle, she thinks, rubbing a blade of grass between two fingers, It would be ever so lovely if my darlingest, dearest roommate could come and visit in a few months when it’s summer holiday. Just for a couple of days, as she’s never been to Frottica and she’d absolutely love all the museums, and we certainly have the space, and she’s charming and beautiful and lovely and… and…

Galinda is in love with the season, with her life, with Elphaba. It’s obvious, it’s something she doesn’t have to second guess. They’ve always been different, the two of them. Elphaba’s thumb smooths over Galinda’s cheek, over the bridge of her nose, pokes her teasingly where her dimple appears. She smiles despite herself and knows that Elphie is, too, even with her eyes closed. Because she knows Elphie like the back of her hand.

“Galinda,” Elphaba murmurs, and Galinda grumbles. She pokes her again, in the dimple, and Galinda flicks her head.

“You’re getting sunburnt,” Elphie says, and grazes her fingertips across Galinda’s cheeks again. She feels herself blushing horribly, but… no, Elphie’s right, there’s a definite soreness there too and she has been out in the sun for hours.

She does look quite pretty when she is sunburnt, but she decides that she’d rather not let it get bad enough to peel. Usually in the summers she likes her cheeks a little pink, dusted with color and freckles that emerge in the sunshine and a light tan over her forearms, lightening her hair. But four years ago she’d spent too much time floating out on a raft at Lake Chorge and had gotten horrendibly peely and disgustifyingly red— not charming, she’d had to hide her face for days. She shudders.

“Hand me your book?” Galinda mumbles, and after a moment of hesitation she feels it drop into her hands. And so she opens it and places it over her face, nose nestled between the pages. It smells of ink and glue, and a little bit like the peppermint tea that Elphaba brews on her desk and drinks as she does her homework. Galinda inhales.

She hears Elphaba laugh, feels her drum her fingers on the cover for a moment before they retreat and… well, that’s no good. She moves a hand up blindly, pokes at Elphaba’s stomach.

“Don’t stop touching my hair,” she grumbles into the pages. It’s easier to be honest when Elphie can’t see her face. When it doesn’t have to be capital L Love, just affection. Attention.

Though it is still love, of course it is. Sure enough, Elphaba’s hands move through her hair again and Galinda shifts into it, lets the air leave her body and the afternoon turn to evening with a chill in the breeze.

Just before dusk the boys reappear and wipe their wet, muddy feet on the blanket even as Galinda tells them that it’s disgusting and unseemly. Crope just nudges her, and they both laugh.

So the six of them lumber back up the hill to Shiz. Those with wet feet hold their shoes, and Galinda holds Elphaba’s hand. The two of them trail behind the boys in all their buoyancy. Galinda has her head on Elphaba’s shoulder and they move that way, clunky and lopsided. She feels whole with the joy of it, feels her heart beating with and, and, and, the way that it circles around Elphaba.

Coming into the entrance hall the six of them scatter, pairs going separate ways. “See you tomorrow!” Boq calls, to which the others reply in kind. And then Elphaba and Galinda are heading their own direction, together, quiet.

“I got positively nothing done,” Galinda grumbles, hoisting her bag higher on her free shoulder. She feels lively in the wake of all the sunshine, whole and hearty and achingly satisfied. “Tomorrow's going to be terribly busy.”

Elphaba raises an incredulous eyebrow. “What happened to ‘that’s what winter was for?’”

“It seems our professors aren’t aware,” Galinda replies, because she knows it will make Elphaba laugh. Which she does, soft and easy. What a dream.

They’re at their door before Galinda realizes it, before she’s ready for the afternoon to be over. Of course, there’s still the night— Galinda has a very long nighttime routine, which now includes conversation with Elphie first in one of their beds and then at the sink and then finally across the room when the lights are out. But this has been special, this day with its remnants still dusting hot across her cheeks and nose and scratched on the bottoms of her feet. Elphaba had been close to her, had been talking to her in a way that was almost flirty and had touched her and watched her and…

So as Elphaba pulls her room key out from her pocket, just before she turns it in the lock, Galinda darts forward to her cheek and plants a firm kiss there. It’s quite close to her lips, in fact, but she lingers all the same at the soft skin of Elphaba’s face. She feels Elphie shift beneath her— not uncomfortable, she knows, just surprised. Curious.

And when she pulls back Elphaba’s face is flushed, just like her neck and the tips of her ears. But there’s a breathless little smile on her lips all the same, a shy look in her eyes as they dart toward Galinda and as her smile curves up just a bit more. Questioning, pleased, a little bit daring. Right on the edge of something more.

But not tonight, Galinda decides. Because this is Elphie, who deserves for things to be slow and careful and delicate. So for now, just that.

She turns the doorknob herself and steps inside first, shoots a small smile back at her roommate. They’ve crossed the threshold— now, it is nighttime. Here, it is not out there.

“Are you coming?” she asks, and hopes the look on her face is reassuring. Elphaba nods and follows her inside.

Chapter Text

“Elphie?”

“Mm?” Elphaba hums, and even though Galinda can’t see her from where she’s flopped on her bed she knows Elphaba has looked up from her book and is paying her close attention. She can tell these things.

“We should do something,” she grumbles back, rolling onto her back so that her head is draped off the edge of her bed. She can see Elphie from here, upside down. She’s sitting at the foot of her bed, pressed up against the window, and it’s hard to make sense of her face from this angle but she does look fond. Galinda thinks.

“Should we?” There’s a hint of a laugh in Elphaba’s voice, like there often is when Galinda gets like this— a little petulant, a little silly, a little over the top just for Elphie’s benefit. Always for Elphie.

“Of course. It’s quite terrible for your health to stay inside all of the time, Elphaba.”

“So this something is outside, then?”

Galinda huffs, sitting back up so she can see Elphaba properly. She is all fond looking, she notes with pleasure. She’s also already cast her book aside, so Galinda knows that she’s won.

“We could take a walk. Or we don’t have to walk. Or… Elphie, we could take the bicycles!”

She knows Elphaba has one, and her own shiny white bicycle is surely gathering rust after a long winter of unuse. And the sun is shining, and she can’t even begin to think about schoolwork or anything like that when Elphie is nearby her. Even if she looks like she’s about to agree.

“Please,” Galinda adds. Pouting will not work on Elphie, at least not if she can tell that Galinda’s pouting. But a little widening of the eyes, a little trace of a frown on her lips… it’s easier to bend Elphaba’s will than her dear friend would like to think. Or maybe it bends just for Galinda.

Maybe Galinda hopes it bends just for her.

“Alright,” Elphaba sighs, just like Galinda had known she would. “We can take the bicycles. You’ll need to change out of your heels, though, I don’t want to carry you back when you break your ankle.”

She’s right, annoyingly. But Galinda’s in too good of a mood to care, changing easily into boots and fixing her hair and standing impatiently near the door while Elphie takes her sweet time putting on her blazer.

Galinda finds, now more than ever, that it’s challenging to be around Elphie without her mind slipping elsewhere. Study sessions become Galinda’s eyes sliding off the page and onto Elphaba’s posture as she works, the tilt of her jaw and the little furrow she gets between her eyebrows when she reads something she’s puzzled by. Nights out with their friends, sugary sweet alcohol sitting heavy in her stomach, turn into private little games to see how close she can get to Elphie without Crope’s suspicious little glances from across the table. Their nighttime routine has become an elongated way for Galinda to learn everything about Elphaba, to immerse herself even more fully and securely in the life of the most interesting person she’d ever had the fortune of meeting.

And the oddest part is that the more she knows, the more she wants. This has never been true before. Long ago, back when Galinda had been just a silly little girl who thought she felt anything for the boys back in Frottica, she’d time and time again realized that the mystery was the only thing that made the boys interesting. The thrill of not knowing. The moment she knew their hopes and dreams, their desires and all the things they’d ever done wrong… well, she stopped caring.

Elphaba isn’t like that, because Galinda knows better. Frottican boys, boys in general, surely could not hold a candle to her. And Galinda could listen to her talk about her dreams for hours, because what Elphie wants makes her who she is. And Galinda quite likes who she is, she’s found.

“Galinda?” Elphaba asks, then, with a smile in her voice. And she realizes she’s been watching her get ready perhaps a little too closely.

“Are you ready yet?” she says, to cover her own pink cheeks. “Honestly, Elphie, you’re turning into me, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Elphie asks her once they’ve unlatched their bicycles and brushed the yellow dusting of pollen from the seats. The air smells fresh, floral, a scent Galinda associates vaguely with childhood summers at Lake Chorge, out in a rowboat all alone and better for it.

“Have you been to the old Lurlinist temple?” Galinda asks, mounting her bicycle in one swift move. “It’s not far off the biking path if you go into the woods. Abandoned, of course, but still.”

Elphaba gives her a funny look, then. It’s very deliberate, like she’s looking for something in Galinda’s face. In her mind, maybe. Galinda fidgets under her gaze, unsure how to respond. But as soon as it’s begun it’s over, and Elphaba swings her own leg over her bicycle and nods back at Galinda.

“It’s to the left once you get to the Love Swing, isn’t it?”

Galinda hesitates. “I think so?”

And Elphaba just nods again. “Follow me, I can find it,” is all she says before she’s pushing off and gliding softly down the slight hill towards the pine grove.

It’s that quiet kind of confidence, that total comfortability and ease with which Elphaba has been navigating their world as of late that had reeled Galinda in. She’d always been so sure, even at the beginning when she was really anything but. But now, in springtime, Elphaba has come into her own.

It was like this: Galinda’s Momsie liked to remind her that college was a time to blossom, something she always said alongside a pinch to Galinda’s cheeks. And blossom Elphie did. Blossom Galinda did, under Elphie’s eye. For her and her alone.

She so rarely uses her bike and it squeaks when she pushes down on the pedals. But she’s gliding along after Elphaba soon enough, the smooth gravel of the road soft beneath her tires.

And ahead of her Elphie pedals steadily, hair swinging easily behind her in the breeze. Her back is straight, everything about her is polished and put together in a slightly uncanny way. It has the effect of making her look almost unreal, moving so smoothly along the ground that Galinda can’t do much other than watch. Watch, and follow her around the curve of the path deeper into the woods.

The further from the castle they go the fewer students roam nearby. The air gets crisper, trees shading the bright afternoon sun. Even the path gets bumpier under her tires, paved gravel replaced with tiny pebbles that flick up out of the path of her wheels.

Elphaba has stopped pedaling ahead of her and is slowing down where the path winds into the close knit woods, pebbles turning to pine needles and crunchy leaves left over from autumn. She leans her bicycle against a firm Quoxwood tree and turns back towards Galinda as she crosses the last few feet into Elphaba’s vicinity.

“It’s chillier here,” is all Elphaba says, and gives Galinda a small smile when she unwinds herself from the bicycle and places it, quite delicately, against the trunk and all tangled with Elphaba’s.

“It shouldn’t be too far, now,” Galinda replies. “Just in the dell, is what my book said.”

“Your book?”

Galinda finds herself blushing again. “Yes, it’s… well, my parents gave it to me when I was accepted at school here. Architecture of Shiz and the Gillikin River. It’s nothing really, but I—,”

“Well, I’m sure it isn’t nothing,” Elphaba says warmly, and starts down the pine needle path into the trees. Galinda finds that they’re holding hands. It’s soft, comforting. She lets the idea of that, the meaning, soak through her. “And the temple is in it?”

Sometimes Elphaba asks leading questions like this, questions meant to put Galinda’s mind to work. She likes it when Galinda really thinks— Galinda knows this because she’s said as much, has told her in her own strange Elphie-like way that she wants to know how her mind works. It’s flattering, truly, and Galinda hovers on the edge of it. Architecture, art, even geometry at the best of times— all topics that make her perk up, a challenge from the world. Elphaba, stable and encouraging.

So Galinda nods. “All the old Lurlinist architecture is. It isn’t gone, just built over in most places— in Shiz proper you can see it in some of the buildings, actually. Usually they used more ornamental detailing, but that’s easy enough to cover up. Or sometimes they just expand the buildings and leave the old stonework, like the town hall. Or the top story of the bakery, have you ever noticed?”

Elphaba looks positively delighted, from what Galinda can see of her face. It’s half coated by shadow, after all, and all in profile as they walk deeper into the trees. “I can’t say that I have, no,” she smiles, turning her head to give Galinda a little glance. “Will you tell me more?”

If it had been anyone else, Galinda surely would blush and demur. But Elphaba doesn’t say it teasingly, or even challengingly. No, it’s tentative and sweet and a little bit hopeful.

It makes Galinda hopeful too. Hopeful that maybe Elphaba is like her, like maybe it makes her happy just to listen to Galinda talk the same way it makes Galinda happy to let Elphaba explain history to her, or politics, or ethics. Like maybe the way Galinda feels about her— addicted, constantly wanting more of Elphie’s mind and voice and selfhood— like maybe it could go both ways. Like maybe Elphaba could want that of Galinda.

The ruin emerges all at once between the pines and Galinda lets out a delighted little gasp, tugging Elphaba by the arm. They abandon the path in favor of circling the unmaintained brick and marble, feet crunching over a bed of marshy leaves.

“It’s gorgeous,” Elphaba says quietly. The place begets quiet, it seems— there’s a regality about the temple in all its glory that even two girls raised Unionist can sense, appreciate, understand. Galinda nods slowly.

“You can see that there used to be buttresses,” she says, gesturing vaguely up where the steeped roof had once been supported. “And there would’ve been carvings right over… here.” They’ve made it back around to the front facade, and Galinda tilts her head up. Elphaba, sparing her a curious glance, does the same.

“That’s Lurline,” she says, and Elphie squints up at the etched marble. “You can tell because she’s always depicted the same way in these old buildings, with the light carved in behind her like that. Sometimes they’d put in gems for eyes, only you can’t tell anymore now.”

“And those, are those the rest of the fairies?” Elphaba asks, and she’s pointing at the building but looking at Galinda.

“Yes,” she agrees, trying quite hard not to go pink under Elphie’s undivided attention. “They liked their buildings to be very… grandiose. Or maybe that isn’t the right word. Impressive? It made them seem more legitimate.”

“So it was political,” Elphaba says thoughtfully, following Galinda to the left side of the temple to study the stained glass.

“Lots of art is political, Elphie. It’s not as frivolous as you think.”

“I don’t think it’s frivolous,” Elphaba says earnestly, “I think it’s fascinating. I think you’re fascinating.”

Galinda does blush at that, and she knows Elphaba sees. She can’t bring herself to care, not with their hands still interlocked and Elphaba having heard her talk and having actually listened.

“I thought I might write about that,” she mentions later, when they’ve thoroughly scavenged every visible inch of the place. Elphie had seemed not quite ready to go back, and of course neither was Galinda. And so they are walking to the clearing nearby, tall grass and ferns and a view of the temple, all its stained glass illuminated by the deep afternoon sun. “For Dillamond’s final, the research paper? Architecture of different regimes, I suppose. Maybe then I’ll actually be able to make it through the research part.”

“You could make it through the research either way,” Elphie says, and she sounds so sure. How can she always be so sure? “But I think he’d love it. It sounds like it’ll be very good, Galinda.”

“I’m sure it will be,” she chirps. Elphaba just laughs, because she knows Galinda too well. Because she knows Galinda only gets arrogant like this when she’s trying too hard to cover her tracks. Because Galinda knows she’s been blushing and too close to Elphie and all flustered for the whole afternoon, and it seems like Elphie knows it too.

The clearing is lush, lively. She can hear crickets in the tall reeds and a butterfly flits away as she pulls Elphaba down into the soft grass. And it’s all so beautiful that she wants to consume it, wants to pull and tug at the body of the earth until it crinkles up between her fingers and lets her grasp, feel, hold. The world is a fascinating place, all the more fascinating with Elphaba beside her.

Elphaba, whose skin is delightfully aglow in the sunlight. Who is crossing her legs and leaning against a rock, gesturing for Galinda to join her. Gesturing towards her lap, which is quite an offer. She thinks of that day by the Suicide Canal, getting sunburnt with her head pillowed on Elphie’s legs and her hands scraping through her hair. Thinks of how much she’d wanted to kiss her, then, how close she’d gotten outside their room. How Elphaba had looked at her, unsurprised and almost daring.

And so she comes, this time lying with her back to the sky. She lets her cheek rest on Elphie’s thigh, face tilted out to look back towards the pinks, reds, blues of the stained glass in the slow moving sun. Elphaba’s arm comes up to touch her back instantly.

“You know,” she says after a moment, “you could be an architect, Galinda. Or an art historian, people write books about that sort of thing. Or there are curators at museums, and—,”

“Are you saying this because I’m terrible at sorcery?” Galinda asks, with a touch of levity so Elphaba doesn’t think she’s all too serious. Only a little bit.

“You are not terrible at sorcery,” Elphaba answers in an instant, that familiar trace of assuredness in her voice, the finality that makes an appearance when she’s talking about Galinda. “You’re not, and you know it. I was saying it because you can love more than one thing, Galinda. You clearly love more than one thing. And I want you to know that you don’t have to… to decide, or limit yourself, or…”

Galinda has a sneaking suspicion that they’re talking about more than just careers. Talking about someone other than just Galinda herself, perhaps. So she smooths a finger over Elphaba’s knee where she can reach it, hums a little, “I know,” in acknowledgement.

“What do you want to do, after school?” Elphaba says softly. Her hand at Galinda’s back begins to move slowly, rubbing up and down her shoulder blade. Galinda shivers.

“I don’t know if I know anymore,” she answers, and finds that it’s true. Once again, the Galinda of a year ago would be astonished at the very idea of it, but if there’s anything she’s learned at Shiz it’s that she can never be sure of anything. That her life could end up changing at the drop of a hat— quite literally, in one such case.

Elphaba hums.

“I’ve always wanted to live in the Emerald City,” Galinda admits after a moment, silence around them except for the rustle of the trees. “I had a map on my wall as a child, those silly ones where they sketch in the landmarks, you know? I used to think I’d be a famous sorceress, and I’d live in the tallest building in the city, and people would come from miles around to see me and I’d grant wishes. And wear pretty clothes.”

She swears she can hear the crinkle of Elphaba’s lips. “You still could,” she says.

“Mm, no, I don’t think I will,” Galinda replies. “But the Emerald City… we could live there together, Elphie. I’ll certainly have many connections. And you’ll be terribly famous, of course, after the Wizard makes you his advisor. So it’s just good politics to keep me around.”

Elphaba actually does laugh, then, and Galinda smiles her pleasure into the crease of Elphie’s dress beneath her cheek. “I’ll always want to keep you around,” she says, and Galinda feels that everywhere, down to her bare legs where the grass pricks at her skin.

The days are longer now, it seems like the sun will be up forever. It inches further across the sky, changing the angle of the diamond light refracted off the windows of the temple. Purple streaks lay across the meadow, deep into the trees. Galinda watches in silence for a long while, soothed by the sound of Elphaba’s breathing and crickets chirping and far off sounds of Shiz, which feels as distant as Quadling Country now.

Elphaba’s hand reappears on her back and this time it isn’t stagnant, isn’t rubbing absentmindedly either. No, she’s tracing deliberately now onto the thin fabric of Galinda’s dress between her shoulder blades. Lines, loops, pauses that hang heavy in the air. It sends little ripples of energy through her, little jolts of pleasure. She could live just like this forever and ever, in Elphie’s lap or with Elphie in her lap and away from the world and secret, where no one can find them.

She lets herself see it— her and Elphie in the countryside, with no one at all to answer to. Rhubarb in the summer and hot chocolate in the winter, sprinkled with cinnamon and chili powder. Fancy china with ferns or poppies on it, just like her Momsie and Popsicle store in their best dining hutch for their best company.

It’s a nice thought. But she knows better— there’s a sensation she’ll get when she knows something will be important later on. A passage in her assigned reading, perhaps, or an offhand comment a friend makes. Like the world telling her to slow down, to pay attention. Elphaba Thropp, in all her uniqueness, has always felt distinctly important. She will be too big, one day, for just rhubarb and nice dishware. She will be great.

She makes herself pay attention, then, to what Elphaba is actually tracing. The swoops, the quick lines. With her eyes closed she can almost see it— a heart, and another one an inch to the left. Still another, grazing up against the hair on the back of her neck. She shivers.

“That’s nice,” she murmurs, and she feels Elphaba’s hand hesitate for an instant. But, thank Oz, she doesn’t stop. No, instead she starts to trace lower, drawing hearts on Galinda’s spine and over her sides and finally at the small of her back. The sensation there is particularly magnified, buzzing in her cheeks and her lungs.

“I’m glad you made me come out here,” Elphaba says absentmindedly above her, hand still looping in a way that’s making Galinda feel a bit delirious. A bit unmoored, all of time and space narrowing down to her lower back and the electricity that emanates from it. “It was lovely. This is lovely.”

“Yes, I do have good ideas from time to time,” she hums in response. “I’ll have ever so much to show you when you visit me this summer.”

“Was that… something I was meant to know about?” Elphaba says haltingly, though not unhappily.

“Well of course we haven’t planned it. But summer is so long, I’m sure you can make time for one little vacation. We’ll visit the museum, and I’ll buy you ice cream, and we can go to the stream— oh, Elphie, you must come. My parents are desperate to meet you.”

Elphaba shifts beneath her and, on instinct, Galinda sits up, blinking in the sun and only a little disoriented. She’s still leaning into Elphaba’s space, though— she often is, these days.

“What is it?” she asks, a furrow in her brow. “I didn’t mean to worry you, or… of course you don’t have to come, but—,”

“No,” Elphaba shakes her head, “I want to. I’d love to, Galinda, it’s just… you do realize, don't you? That I’m not used to this sort of thing?”

Galinda cocks her head, sliding still closer. Elphaba’s hand hasn’t moved from her back even now that she’s sat up, and she lets herself lean into the touch. “What sort of thing? Visiting friends?”

“Having friends,” Elphaba says, a note of desperation in her voice. “Having… someone like you. I didn’t really plan for you.”

And of course she hadn't really planned for Elphaba, either. Elphaba, who had set her life all topsy turvy with all her abject, undeniable strangeness. With the odd way she moved through space, the almost romantic manner in which she treated Galinda. The manner that had infiltrated Galinda’s heart in every waking hour, and some of the sleeping ones too.

“I’m not sure if we can plan for anyone, really,” Galinda says thoughtfully. “People are people. It isn’t like we can know what they’re going to do— Oz, I don’t even know what I’m going to do most of the time, it’s all just… Elphie?”

For she had looked up to find Elphaba watching her in a positively rapt sort of way. She is even closer to Galinda, now, one hand still at her back and their knees are sort of tangled together from where they touch and here, out in the clearing, is the girl Galinda knows so well. That confident and unsure girl, that here and there girl, that girl lying in wait and so very present. Her most precious Elphie.

“You kissed me on the cheek,” Elphaba says softly, a little awkwardly. “That day when the boys went wading. After we walked back.”

As if Galinda needs reminding. She nods mutely, prays to the Unnamed God and even to Lurline, in the shadow of her temple, that Elphaba doesn’t demand to know why she'd done it. That she doesn’t turn up her nose in disgust. For Galinda has the tiniest inkling of hope that maybe Elphaba wouldn’t be all that repulsed, just maybe… but she can’t say it, can’t bear it.

“Could I… would it be alright if…” Elphaba starts, trails into a frustrated little huff. She’s blushing, Galinda realizes belatedly. She’s not meeting Galinda’s eyes, and her fingers fidget where they’re touching Galinda, and… maybe she’s misread this situation entirely.

Perhaps Elphie is not going to demand she explain herself after all. Perhaps she’s trying to find a way to… maybe she wants to…

“Yes,” she blurts, eyes wide and heart beating very fast. Elphaba glances back up swiftly and then they’re watching each other, she’s watching that dark flush on Elphie’s cheeks and the way she blinks and how her lips twist, flicker. How they are still closer than before, leaning in and never quite escaping one another’s orbit.

For a moment this hangs in the balance. Suspended, above and below and through the two of them curled in the grass and Galinda feels like she’s on the brink of something marvelous. But just then it’s stilled, paused, an intake of breath that the clearing around them holds. Waiting in the wings— maybe the Galinda of her future will know how it ends, she thinks uselessly. This, the longest instant of her short life.

Elphaba moves with careful precision, the same way she does most other things. She kisses like she thinks, Galinda imagines— thoroughly, wholly, brilliantly. She’s got her legs curled to one side of her body and Elphie mirrors her, pulling her closer by the small of her back and kissing her deep. She inhales.

Galinda isn’t sure what she expected kissing Elphaba would be like, but it isn’t this. There’s nothing cinematic about it, nothing magical, just Elphie’s mouth moving beneath hers. It’s only the two of them. When Elphaba’s tongue slides between her lips Galinda can’t help but shiver once again, hears a noise from deep in her chest fall from her mouth and take root beside them in the grass. Elphaba smiles against her lips.

The thing that douses her with pleasure most of all is when she slides her hand up Elphie’s cheek, leaning in still nearer so that they’re pressed together and she can hardly breathe anything except this precise moment, and feels the wire rim of her glasses cool against Galinda’s hand. It’s so endearing that her heart stumbles, so familiar that she almost hesitates. Almost has to check to make sure, but it’s true— this is Elphaba with her, Elphaba of their room and of the Spring Formal and of her letters home. Dancing out of her mind into real life, kissing Galinda like she is sure.

When they pull apart Elphie’s still holding her, hand drifting a bit to her waist now in a way that makes Galinda’s head all floaty. She finds that her own arms are hooked over Elphie’s shoulders, draping there and pressing their faces close and the light is getting low, they really should be getting back but Galinda never wants to leave.

She feels a bit moony. “Well,” she chirps, shaking out her hair and leaning back on her heels. Only a little bit, though, because she isn’t sure she wants to be too far from Elphaba. “You certainly know how to charm a girl, Miss Elphaba.”

Elphaba blinks. “So it was… that is, you liked…”

Galinda raises an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain you don’t need me to tell you that. Yes, Elphie, I liked it quite a bit. In fact,” she adds breathlessly, and feels her heart soar at the shy little smile Elphaba gets, the bashful way she ducks her head, “when do you think we might do that again? You see, I’ve been wanting to for such a long time. So I’d say it’s only fair.”

That soft smile morphs into a smirk, in quintessential Elphie fashion. She’s tracing at Galinda’s waist again, and lets herself be pulled in closer by the back of her neck.

“Only fair, hmm?”

“Exactly. So if you don’t mind…”

They should be heading back, retrieving the bicycles they’d propped against tree bark and eating dinner in the Buttery— if Galinda were paying attention to her stomach, she’d find that she’s quite ravenous. But she isn’t paying it any mind, too content with the hypnotic quality of Elphie’s lips, her hands, her cheeks and hair and legs and all of it.

It’s new, it’s in bloom, it’s constantly moving. That is springtime, Galinda thinks with Elphaba’s hand on her thigh. Where wintertime is stiff and solid, snow and ice and stagnant, spring is bursting. In motion always, waking up and stirring and erupting into the existence of each and every day. Vibrating beneath the surface of the world, pushing lovers together and trailing on and on every night, relentless. She and Elphie are in motion, perhaps, in bloom. And thus Galinda finds some time later, biking back to school with Elphie casting little smiles in her direction, that spring is her favorite of all the seasons.