Chapter Text
For as long as she could remember, Elphaba had been cast as the dependable, eldest daughter. And when her mother died, it was silently understood that she would step up as a second parent to her younger sister, Nessa. She was destined, it seemed, to be a side character, someone meant to blend into the background. These instincts had been instilled in her from such a young age that putting her own needs before others felt almost disobedient. Disloyal, even.
Perhaps that was why her dislike of Galinda Upland had been so sharp when they first met. Galinda, with her bright personality and untested innocence. She seemed so self-absorbed, so naïve, so sheltered. She was everything Elphaba had never been allowed to be. Elphaba had every reason to loathe her, wanted to, but the more time she spent with the effervescent blonde, the less that hatred seemed to stick.
There was a kindness in Galinda that seeped through no matter how tightly she tried to conceal it. And the longer they lived together, the clearer it became that the air-headed persona was simply another role, the kind Elphaba recognised all too well. A role shaped by expectation. By pressure. By the need to be perfect.
And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, after only a couple of months, Elphaba began to feel a quiet protectiveness over her roommate. Galinda had many, many friends, and yet not one of them seemed to notice that the girl did not eat. Elphaba had figured it out within a week. The dining hall was merely a stage for Galinda. A social ritual she performed flawlessly after which she would return to their dorm room to nibble at plain crackers and sip powdered soups.
Elphaba often wondered what Galinda was hiding behind all that sparkle. There were moments albeit small and flickering, when the brightness dimmed just enough for Elphaba to glimpse at something fragile beneath it. Something strained. Something lonely.
None of Galinda’s behaviours puzzled her more than the night she’d crossed the room at the Ozdust Ballroom to join Elphaba on the dance floor. When she’d invited her to the party in the first place, Elphaba had felt, for the first time, like she was being accepted into a world that had never welcomed her before. She’d tried to hide it, but she had been so deeply, quietly happy... only for that happiness to crumble the moment she walked into the ballroom.
Until Galinda stepped in.
They danced and laughed together like real friends and from that moment on, they were, in a way neither of them had expected.
For a few weeks, things settled into a gentle rhythm. Galinda was dating Fiyero, Nessa was dating Boq, and Elphaba was simply glad that for the first time in her life, she had a group of people who accepted her, quirks and all. It was her first real experience of friendship. And with them, she could almost forget that she was different.
But Galinda, bright, dazzling, admired by all, never fully let her guard down. Not even with Elphaba. And Elphaba, who had learned her whole life to pay attention to the smallest shifts, noticed every time Galinda’s smile tightened at the edges. Every time her laugh came a beat too late. Every time she excused herself from a meal without ever touching her plate.
It was exactly two months after that night at the Ozdust when the first real cracks started to appear. From the outside, Galinda and Fiyero's relationship seemed flawless. Fiyero took her on dates – strolls in nature, picnics on the university grounds and Galinda seemed entirely head-over-heels for him. She even practiced signing her name as Mrs. Galinda Tigelaar over and over in her diary each night. It was nauseatingly cute.
But one Thursday night, something shifted. It was just after midnight. Elphaba had been tucked in bed for at least an hour when Galinda slipped into their dorm room from her latest date with Fiyero. Elphaba expected her to be giddy, ready to recount every single detail as she had dozens of times before. But this time, Galinda simply climbed into bed without a word and turned out the light.
Elphaba waited for the familiar gush of excitement. It never came.
“Galinda?” she whispered into the dark.
“What?”
“Is everything alright?”
“Fine. Of course. Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Are you sure?..”
“Elphie,” Galinda cut her off, firm but gentle. “Everything is fine. I’m just tired.”
“…Alright. Night, Galinda.”
“Good night.”
Chapter Text
The next morning, Galinda emerged from their room looking radiant.
Her hair curled perfectly, her dress immaculate, makeup brighter than usual as if she had painted confidence onto her skin until it looked almost real.
She beamed at anyone who so much as glanced her way. She laughed too loudly in the hallway at jokes Elphaba could barely understand. Every movement was precise, practiced, polished.
Overcompensating, Elphaba thought immediately.
They found Fiyero waiting outside the lecture hall door. He perked up the moment he saw Galinda.
“There you are,” he said, smiling. “I missed you this morning.” He leaned in to kiss her.
Galinda turned at the last second, so smoothly it could have been accidental, except Elphaba saw the flicker of panic in her eyes.
Fiyero’s lips brushed her cheek instead.
He blinked. “Uh… everything alright?”
“Pfannee!” Galinda chirped suddenly, grabbing her best friend by the arm like a shield. “Let’s get a seat at the back!”
She glided away before Fiyero could react. He frowned, confused yet unwilling to push.
At lunchtime, the whole group somehow migrated to the same table in the dining hall. Nessarose wheeling herself neatly between Shenshen and Pfannee while Boq hovered nervously beside her, eager to help with everything she didn’t actually need help with.
Fiyero pulled out the chair beside him for Galinda. She sat, that practiced smile glued in place. Everyone chatted at once. Boq shared some story about a spell gone wrong, Pfannee shrieked with laughter, and Nessarose rolled her eyes so fondly it made Elphaba smile.
By the time the food arrived, Galinda had fully reassembled her mask. She picked delicately at her salad, moving lettuce leaves around, cutting pieces into tiny bites, lifting her fork halfway to her mouth only to set it back down with a breezy comment.
She was incredibly skilled at pretending, Elphaba realised. Every movement was calculated to give the illusion of eating: stabbing a tomato, pushing a crouton, sipping water at just the right moment.
No one noticed.
No one except her.
"So," Fiyero said casually between bites of his sandwich, “you’re sure you’re up for going out later?” The question sounded light. The tone didn’t.
Galinda’s smile tightened. “I said I would.”
“Right. You did.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Just checking. Wouldn’t want to plan something you’d… change your mind about.”
Galinda shot him a look sharp enough to slice stone. “Funny. I don’t recall changing my mind about anything.”
Fiyero held her gaze, frustration simmering beneath his half-smile.
Pfannee, oblivious to the tension, perked up. “We should go somewhere new tonight!”
“It’s settled,” Fiyero declared before anyone else could speak. “A proper night out. Not the Ozdust. Somewhere real. And we’ll start with drinks in my suite.”
Boq nearly choked on his water. “Your—your private suite?”
Fiyero grinned. “Perks of being a prince.”
Shenshen squealed. Nessarose pretended not to look intrigued.
“We’ll all go, won’t we, Elphie?” Galinda locked eyes with her in a way Elphaba hasn't expected. Elphaba wasn't sure what to make of it.
“Yes. I suppose so.”
Fiyero’s suite smelled faintly of cologne and expensive liquor. Music pulsed through the walls, loud enough that Elphaba wondered if princes were exempt from dormitory noise regulations.
Shots lined the glass table like tiny glowing threats.
“Everyone gets one!” Fiyero said, already pouring.
Pfannee and Shenshen shrieked in delight. Nessarose hesitated, then accepted hers with dignified reluctance. Even Boq took a glass, though he held it like it might explode.
Galinda lifted her drink with a bright, brittle smile.
Elphaba set hers down untouched. “No thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” Fiyero said, shrugging, though his eyes flicked to Galinda again, searching for something she wasn’t giving him.
They drank. Galinda did too, quickly, too quickly, like swallowing a dare.
Fiyero held up a small glass, a mischievous grin on his face. “Another one,” he said. “Come on, just loosen up a little. It’s one shot. One!”
Elphaba frowned from the corner of the room, arms crossed, silent disapproval clear in her posture.
Galinda rolled her eyes, taking the glass but not drinking. “You’re a terrible influence, you know that?” she said, her tone light but tight.
Fiyero laughed, leaning closer. He reached for her again, his intent clear. Galinda, for the second time that day, gave him the cheek.
Fiyero blinked, confusion replacing his grin. “…What? You’re serious?”
“I...” Galinda hesitated, forcing a smile. “I just… not right now.”
He frowned, the playful tone gone, replaced by a twinge of hurt. “Right. I see. You’re… rejecting me?”
Galinda’s heart thudded. “…I’m not rejecting you. I just...” She grasped his hand, hoping to reassure him, to anchor the moment. But he pulled away, a sharp exhale, his gaze distant for just a second before it softened again.
“Alright,” he said, trying to mask the hurt. “I get it. No pressure.”
The cab arrived at the curb, its headlights cutting through the evening mist. Galinda stepped back, letting Fiyero go first, her hand brushing against his only briefly.
Elphaba watched quietly, noticing the tension, the little cracks in Galinda’s careful composure. Galinda sighed before downing the bright green drink in one strained gulp.
Chapter Text
The club was loud, glittering, chaotic. Lights flashed across the dance floor in dizzying bursts. Pfannee and Shenshen shrieked with delight and immediately beelined toward a booth, squealing about “strategic people-watching spots.”
Galinda stayed beside Elphaba at first, looking polished, perfect but tense. Her smile was bright, her cheeks just a little too flushed from the drink. Fiyero watched her. Then, with a casualness Elphaba didn’t buy for a second, he strolled onto the dance floor, straight into a group of girls who clearly recognized him.
Within moments they were circling him, laughing, leaning close.
Galinda’s breath caught, her cheeks flushed even pinker, conscious that everyone was watching this.
“Ooh,” Shenshen sang, returning from the bar with a pretzel. “Galinda, sweetheart, you need to eat something. Soaks up the alcohol." She held it out. "Here, want a bite?”
Galinda shook her head, too fast. “No, thank you.”
Shenshen shrugged, popping the pretzel in her own mouth. “Suit yourself. But I’m not carrying you back to Shiz if you pass out. These shoes are new.”
Pfannee waved vaguely from the booth. “Come dance with us, Gaaaaalinda! Don’t be a gloomy ruby!”
Galinda stiffened, her painted-on smile trembling. “I’m not gloomy. I’m having fun.”
More drinks arrived. Fiyero was generous, everyone drinking along. Galinda sipped quickly, grimacing slightly at the burn, forcing a laugh when Pfannee and Shenshen made a joke.
Elphaba used this moment to excuse herself from the group. She spotted Boq across the room, carefully holding Nessarose’s hand.
“Boq,” she said softly, leaning close so Nessa wouldn’t hear, “Have you… had anything to drink?”
He shook his head firmly. “No shots, no wine. I’m good. And I’m keeping an eye on her.” He glanced at Nessarose protectively.
Elphaba exhaled. “Thank you" she whispered. She trusted Boq.
Back on the dance floor, Galinda had joined Fiyero. She laughed at his jokes, danced, spun, tried to make her movements light and effortless. But every so often, her smile wavered. Fiyero noticed. And he misunderstood completely.
He took her hesitation as disinterest. And Fiyero, who had never in his life dealt well with that kind of feeling, reacted the only way he knew how: badly.
So when Galinda excused herself to catch her breath, he didn’t follow.
Instead, he caught the hand of a girl nearby. A tall, striking second-year with shimmering jewels at her temples and spun her onto the dance floor with theatrical flair. Loud enough for those closest to hear him laugh, “At least someone knows how to have fun tonight.”
Galinda froze mid-sip of her drink.
Her cheeks burned. Her stomach twisted painfully, not out of jealousy, but something far worse.
The girl laughed too loudly at something he whispered. His hand settled at her waist in a way he’d never tried with Galinda, but in a way he definitely wanted Galinda to notice now. Students nudged one another, smirking, murmuring. Someone whispered, “Guess he got bored fast.”
Galinda set her glass down with trembling fingers.
She felt small. Exposed. The humiliation sat heavy and hot on her skin, sharp as pins.
Elphaba spotted her in an instant, pushing through the crowd without hesitation. When she reached her, she dipped her head, speaking low so no one else could hear.
“Hey.” Her voice cut through the noise like a lantern. “You okay?”
Galinda forced a laugh, brittle at the edges. “I’m fine. Truly.”
Elphaba looked at her for barely a second before shaking her head. “You don’t look fine.”
Galinda’s eyes flickered involuntarily toward the dance floor, toward Fiyero, spinning the girl with exaggerated delight, pretending not to see her.
Elphaba stepped closer, voice low. “Let me take you home.”
Galinda hesitated, fighting pride, performance, and exhaustion all at once. Then her face crumpled, just for half a second.
“…Alright,” she whispered.
Outside, the cold night hit Galinda like a shock. She sagged against Elphaba as they walked quietly back toward the dorms. Her shoulders trembled, her lips quivering, the brave mask she had worn all night crumbling piece by piece.
“Everyone saw,” she murmured, voice tiny, cracking. “He, he did it on purpose. And everyone saw.”
“You didn’t deserve that,” Elphaba murmured, voice gentle, firm. “Not any of it.”
“He humiliated me,” she whispered. “And I just… let it happen.”
Her voice broke. The first tear fell. Elphaba pulled her close, letting her cry into her shoulder beneath the streetlamp’s glow.
“It's alright,” Elphaba murmured. “I’ve got you. I promise.”
Galinda clung to her, shaking. For the first time, she let herself fall apart in someone else’s arms.
Chapter Text
Back in their room, Elphaba guided Galinda to sit up against the pillows. She slipped away briefly and returned with a glass of water, placing it gently in Galinda’s trembling hands.
“Slow sips,” she murmured.
Galinda obeyed, swallowing carefully. Her mascara had smudged beneath her eyes and her curls were beginning to fall, but Elphaba thought she’d never looked more real.
Galinda stared down at the glass, fingers wrapped too tightly around it. For a long moment she didn’t speak at all, just watched the water tremble with her hands.
Then she huffed a weak laugh.
“Well,” she said, eyes still on the water. “That was a spectacular way to make a point.”
Elphaba waited.
“I suppose it was only a matter of time,” she said. “How kind of him to do it publicly.”
She took another sip, grimacing slightly
“I mean, why waste time having an argument in private when you can humiliate me in front of half a nightclub?” Galinda huffed. “Very on-brand. Saves everyone the trouble of guessing.”
Elphaba listened, letting Galinda vent what she clearly needed to.
“It’s just been… difficult,” she said finally, exasperated. “With Fiyero, I mean. We’ve been disagreeing. A lot. He doesn’t always… listen.”
Elphaba didn’t hesitate.
“Disagreeing doesn’t give him the right to treat you the way he did tonight.”
Something in Galinda’s expression wavered, like a crack in glass.
Elphaba realised that this was the first time Galinda had ever admitted to her the world wasn’t perfect – or that she wasn’t either.
Elphaba shifted, lowering her voice. “I could make you something to eat. It might help.”
Galinda shook her head at once. “No. No, I can’t. Just the water is fine.”
Elphaba hesitated. “What about that powdered soup you like? The… oddly neon one?” She made a face. “The one that smells like feet but you swear is good.”
A tiny, strained laugh escaped Galinda. “It is good. You’re just uncultured.”
“Feet soup,” Elphaba said dryly. “Mm. Delicious.”
Galinda sniffed through a laugh, scrubbing at her eyes. Elphaba’s gaze softened.
“You didn’t eat today,” Elphaba said gently. “Not really. I noticed.”
Galinda’s shoulders stiffened.
“I’m not judging,” Elphaba added quickly. “I’m just… worried.”
For a long moment, Galinda said nothing. Her fingers twisted together in her lap. She stared at the floor, jaw tight, as if weighing whether to say something — or whether saying it would make it real.
Then, in a voice as small as Elphaba had ever heard her:
“It’s hard.”
Elphaba tilted her head. “What is?”
“Eating," she whispered the word like it costed her. Like something she hadn’t planned to admit.
"It's not like it sounds,” she rushed on, before Elphaba could respond. “It’s just—” She faltered, pressing her knees closer to her chest. “It makes me feel… disgusting. And guilty. Like I’ve failed somehow. Just by wanting anything.”
Elphaba’s chest tightened.
At first it was just telling myself I wasn’t hungry. Little things. Easy things.” Her voice shook. “But the less I eat, the harder it is to start again.”
She blinked hard.
“And now it’s easier to avoid it altogether,” she whispered, tears gathering. “To pretend it doesn’t matter. That I don’t.”
“Oh, Galinda,” Elphaba breathed.
“I know it’s stupid,” Galinda rushed on. “I know. It’s just everyone expects me to look a certain way. Act a certain way. Be this perfectly polished thing.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “And if I’m not, then I’m failing. And eating just...” Her voice cracked. “It makes everything feel worse.”
Elphaba shook her head, reaching out to take Galinda’s hand. “Galinda,” she said carefully, “that… sounds incredibly hard. And lonely.”
Tears spilled over Galinda’s lashes. She wiped at them furiously. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything in my life is supposed to be perfect. I have the perfect friends, the perfect grades, the perfect boyfriend so why am I ruining everything?"
“You’re not ruining everything,” Elphaba said firmly. “And you’re not unworthy. You’re a person. You’re allowed to take up space. To need things. To be imperfect...”
Galinda’s lip wobbled and she leaned carefully against Elphaba’s shoulder.
"And… Fiyero,” she whispered. “I don’t even… I don’t love him. I don’t think I’ve ever liked a boy before.” Her breath hitched. “But everyone expects me to. And I want to. I want to like him.” Her voice cracked. “And I can’t. And that makes me feel like a failure.”
Elphaba rested her cheek lightly against Galinda’s hair, careful not to move too fast, too much.
“Galinda,” she said quietly, “it’s okay. You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to pretend.” A pause. “If being with him makes you this unhappy… you’re allowed to be honest with yourself.”
"Galinda swallowed hard. “He’s starting to notice anyway. That’s what tonight was about. He wants more than I can give him."
Elphaba felt the weight of that settle between them. She tightened her arm around Galinda just slightly.
Galinda exhaled slowly, letting herself sink against Elphaba. “…Thank you. For listening. For making me feel slightly less broken.”
“You’re not broken,” Elphaba said softly.
Galinda pressed her face into Elphaba’s shoulder, voice barely audible. “Please… don’t tell anyone. I’ve never told anyone any of this before."
Elphaba held her a little tighter, brushing a hand through her hair. “I won’t. Not a word. This stays between us.”
Chapter Text
Galinda barely left her bed all day.
The curtains were drawn, the room dim except for the soft pools of afternoon light slipping through the cracks. Every few hours Elphaba had poked her head in. Once with water, once just to be sure Galinda was still breathing. But she never pushed, never hovered. She sensed Galinda was hanging on by a thread she couldn’t tug on without making everything unravel.
Now, as the sun dipped low, Elphaba lingered in the doorway. Galinda lay curled on the duvet, curls flattened on one side, her skin paler than usual. She looked nothing like the glittering girl who commanded everyone’s attention and everything like the one who had shattered quietly in Elphaba’s arms last night.
Elphaba couldn’t stop replaying her words.
Everyone expects me to be this perfect polished thing.
I don’t think I’ve ever liked a boy before.
Eating just makes everything feel worse.
Those words had carved themselves into her, heavy and unresolved. Elphaba wanted to help her.
She crossed the room.
“Hey,” Elphaba murmured, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “How’s your head?”
“Horrible,” Galinda groaned, draping an arm over her face. “Everything feels horrible.”
Elphaba swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
A beat passed before she added, quietly, “Do you think… you might want to try eating something tonight? Even a little?”
Galinda lowered her arm just enough to look at her. Her eyes were wary, tired—guarded. “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to manage anything for a while.”
“I know,” Elphaba whispered. She reached out, then hesitated inches from Galinda’s hand. “What would help? What would make it easier?”
A shadow crossed Galinda’s face, shame tightening her shoulders. Seeing her fold in on herself like that made something in Elphaba ache.
“I… I’m not sure,” Galinda whispered.
Elphaba thought. “Okay. What if we start simple? Soup.” She offered a small, hopeful smile. “Real soup. Not the powdered stuff you pretend tastes good.”
Galinda’s lips twitched. “It’s… convenient.”
“It’s disgusting,” Elphaba corrected gently. “So I’m making something better. Warm. Comforting. Something your stomach doesn’t have to fight.”
Galinda blinked, touched despite herself. “That actually does sound good.”
“Good.” Relief loosened Elphaba’s shoulders. “I can make it. Or we can make it together.”
Galinda hesitated, her lip trembling. Then slowly, she nodded. “…Okay. I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
The kitchen smelled faintly of bleach. Elphaba pushed a few stools aside and laid out bowls and chopping boards. She tied an apron around her waist, then handed a wooden spoon to Galinda.
“Alright,” she said. “Let's make soup.”
Galinda took the spoon, her fingers brushing Elphaba’s just long enough to make them both feel it.
She stirred the soup slowly, awkwardly, but carefully. Her breathing clearly anxious. Elphaba watched with quiet admiration, offering small nods instead of corrections.
“You’re doing great,” she said softly.
Elphaba stepped a little closer, not touching, but steadying. And slowly, Galinda’s breathing evened out.
When the soup finally shimmered with warmth and colour, they poured it into bowls and carried them to a small table by the window, tucked away from the noise of the dining hall.
Galinda sat, staring at her spoon like it was a test she hadn’t studied for.
“You don’t have to eat it all,” Elphaba whispered. “But it would mean a lot to me if you tried it.”
Galinda looked up and something in her expression cracked open.
“I want to,” she whispered. “But I did nothing all day. I don’t deserve this.”
Elphaba covered her hand gently. “You don’t have to earn food. You don’t have to be perfect to deserve it. You matter, Galinda.”
Galinda’s breath wavered. She lifted the spoon.
One sip.
Then another.
Slow, deliberate, brave.
Elphaba squeezed her hand after each swallow, offering reassurance in silence. It wasn’t easy. Galinda kept flinching at footsteps behind them but she kept going. Bite after bite. Effort after effort.
By the time she set her empty bowl down, her cheeks were flushed with something like pride.
“That… wasn’t as impossible as I thought,” Galinda admitted, fragile but hopeful.
Elphaba’s smile warmed the air. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Thank you… Elphie,” Galinda whispered, fingers tightening around hers.
Elphaba’s thumb traced a soft arc over the back of Galinda’s hand. A glow stirred in her chest, something she didn’t dare name.
“Have you… ever asked anyone for help with this before?” she asked quietly.
Galinda dropped her gaze. “No. I’ve never needed to. I mean... It’s not that bad.”
Elphaba’s heart twisted at the lie. “Not even Pfannee or Shenshen?”
Galinda recoiled slightly. “No. They wouldn’t understand.” Her voice shrank. “I don’t want them to know. I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Why not?” Elphaba asked gently.
Galinda’s breath hitched. “I don’t want them to see me differently.” A crack rippled through her voice. “I don’t think I could bear that.”
Elphaba squeezed her hand. “I don’t see you differently.”
Their eyes held, longer than they meant to.
Galinda exhaled shakily. “I just don’t understand why something so simple feels so hard.”
“Everyone struggles with something,” Elphaba reassured her. “You’re just… human. And humans sometimes need a little help, even with things that should be simple. Like… eating soup.”
Galinda’s fingers tightened around hers.
“Galinda,” Elphaba said softly. “I need you to hear this. You don’t have to earn food. You don’t have to be perfect. Will you try to remember that?”
“I’ll try,” she whispered. “But only if you promise me something.”
Elphaba raised an eyebrow.
Galinda’s smile was small but real. “Promise you’ll always make this soup for me. Because… well… it tastes like someone actually cares.”
Warmth bloomed in Elphaba’s chest. “Looks like I’m stuck with soup duty forever, then. Lucky me.”
Galinda huffed a soft laugh. “Lucky you,” she echoed, nudging Elphaba’s shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Elphaba leaned slightly closer, thumb brushing Galinda’s knuckles. “I won’t.”
Galinda’s fingers curled tighter around hers. Her posture softened, just for a moment, unguarded, vulnerable, trusting.
But then Galinda’s gaze dropped to their entwined hands.
A flicker of panic.
A sharp inhale.
“Oh,” she whispered, pulling away as if burned. “Sorry. I shouldn’t...”
Elphaba blinked, startled. “It's okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know, I just…” Galinda stood too fast, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands. The softness drained from her face, replaced by something brittle and practiced. “I’m being ridiculous. You’ve already put up with enough of my nonsense.”
“Galinda...”
“No, truly.” She pasted on a bright, fake smile. “I’m fine now. Perfectly fine.”
The wobble in her voice betrayed her.
“I should go get washed up,” she said quickly. “And you have better things to do than listen to me carry on.”
Elphaba rose, wanting to reach out—but something in Galinda’s posture warned her to stay still.
“Thank you,” Galinda whispered, eyes dropping. “For the soup. And for… everything.”
Then she slipped out the door.
Silence fell.
Elphaba stared at the empty doorway, the ghost of Galinda’s hand still warm against her palm.
Idiot, she scolded herself. You got carried away. She needed soup, not… whatever that was.
She pressed a hand over her face, mortified at the memory of her thumb tracing Galinda’s skin, of the softness in her voice, the way she’d let herself hope. She sank back into her chair, exhaling shakily.
She had no idea what that moment had meant, to her or Galinda, but one thing was painfully clear:
She’d made a fool of herself.
And she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to face Galinda tomorrow.
Chapter Text
The university courtyard was unusually still for a Sunday morning. Only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chatter of birds.
Elphaba spotted Galinda immediately: sitting on a stone bench, posture immaculate, an open book resting on her lap like a prop. She wasn’t reading it. She wasn’t even pretending to.
Elphaba slowed her steps. There’d been a strange, fragile air between them since last night... ever since Galinda had pulled her hand away.
“Hi,” Elphaba said softly.
Galinda jerked as if startled, then pasted on that bright, brittle smile that Elphaba had started to recognise as a warning sign.
“Oh! Elphie. Isn’t it just… lovely out?” she chirped, gesturing toward the overcast sky.
Elphaba sat beside her, leaving a polite amount of space. Her eyes drifted to the coffee cup beside Galinda – full, untouched, already going cold.
Galinda closed her book slowly.
“Elphie, about last night...”
Elphaba’s stomach gave a small, nervous twist.
Last night. The soup. Galinda’s fingers in hers. The way her breath had hitched before she pulled away.
Galinda’s smile faltered. "I… I shouldn’t have said all that. I was being ridiculous. Tired. Hungover. Emotional.” She waved a hand as if shooing the whole evening away.
Elphaba blinked. “You weren’t ridiculous.” Heat crept up her neck. “I thought it was… nice."
But Galinda’s expression twisted into something confused and almost offended, like Elphaba had answered the wrong question.
“No, Elphie, I meant, I mean...” She let out a tight, brittle laugh, eyes darting anywhere but at Elphaba. “Not that part. I meant the other part. The… the nonsense I said on Friday and then again yesterday.”
Elphaba stilled.
Oh.
She wasn’t talking about the soup. Or the hand-holding. She wasn’t taking any of that back. She meant the rest. The painful parts.
“I don’t know why I said any of that,” Galinda rushed on. “Honestly. I don’t have a problem. I eat perfectly normally, I do, and I’m absolutely fine. I’m mortified I even brought it up.” Her voice wavered. “I wish I hadn’t.”
Galinda was lying. Badly. The strain around her eyes, the way she crushed the edges of her skirt between her fingers, the flicker of fear whenever the subject came close — all of it screamed otherwise.
But Elphaba kept her voice gentle. “Galinda… it’s alright. I’m not upset you told me.”
“Well I’m upset I told you.” Galinda’s tone sharpened, cracking at the edges. “I shouldn’t have put that on you. And it’s nothing anyway, so just, please forget all of it.”
Her breath was shallow now, panic creeping into her carefully composed exterior. She wasn’t just embarrassed. She was terrified.
Elphaba’s instinct was to reach out. But after last night, after the way Galinda had recoiled from her touch, Elphaba folded her hands in her lap instead.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Elphaba said softly. “Not unless you want to.”
Galinda exhaled with quick, desperate relief.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Really. I just… said things I didn’t mean.”
Elphaba’s heart stumbled.
Did she not mean everything she’d said?
The trembling admission on Friday that she didn’t love Fiyero… that she’d never liked a boy before…?
But before Elphaba could even begin to ask—
“Galinda!"
Elphaba flinched.
Fiyero’s voice cut across the lawn as he jogged toward them, a bouquet of bright, colourful flowers in hand. His grin was contrite in the most performative way.
Galinda didn’t go rigid this time. She didn’t even hesitate.
She was already rising, her expression brightening almost rehearsedly — as if she’d been waiting for him.
“Oh! Fiyero!”
She stepped toward him at once, meeting him halfway.
Elphaba blinked, confused. When had they…?
Fiyero didn’t miss a beat.
"Babe, there you are. I didn’t know you’d be out here already.” He thrust the flowers into her hands without ceremony. “Thought these might make up for Friday.”
Galinda paused, just for a second, but long enough for Elphaba to catch the flicker of doubt in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, touching his arm, leaning into him with polished ease. “That’s very sweet.”
Elphaba watched, frozen, as Fiyero looped an arm around Galinda’s waist and Galinda didn’t flinch. She just… fit herself neatly into his side.
Of course she did. Of course she was back with him.
Elphaba felt something sink heavily inside her.
Fiyero looked over Galinda’s shoulder, smirking at her as if he’d won something.
“Elphaba.”
She didn’t answer.
Galinda finally turned back, that perfect smile still in place.
“See you later, Elphie?”
Elphaba swallowed. Her voice came out thin.
“Yeah. Later."
And then Galinda let Fiyero guide her away, their steps in sync, the flowers bobbing with each bounce of her hand.
Elphaba watched them until they rounded a corner and disappeared. Her smile brittle at the edges as something inside her twisted tight. Not jealousy. Not exactly.
Elphaba pressed her lips together, heart thudding too hard in her chest. Concern she understood. Sympathy too. Even protectiveness. But this—
This was something else.
She spent most of her life avoiding feelings like this. And now here they were, crawling up her ribs like vines, slow and persistent and impossible to ignore.
Galinda had pulled away. Gone back to Fiyero.
Why? she wondered, stopping in the middle of the path. Why do you care so much?
The answer was obvious. She just wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
Not even to herself.
Chapter Text
Galinda closed the door to her dorm room and leaned back against it, the click of the latch echoing too loudly in the quiet space.
She had made it through breakfast — barely. She had smiled. She had held Fiyero’s hand. She had told Elphaba, with a bright, brittle laugh, that what she’d said on Friday night was nothing. That she’d been silly. Drunk. Overdramatic.
And Elphaba had looked at her in that awful, steady way she did and saw straight through her.
Galinda’s stomach twisted.
She crossed the room in short, restless steps, fingers trembling as she tugged her hair down, pinned it back up, then pulled it loose again.
She had done what she was supposed to do. Taken Fiyero back. Forgave him for his poor behavior at the nightclub. Put everything back where it belonged.
This was the life she’d built, wasn’t it?
Pretty dresses and perfect smiles and being the couple everyone talked about. She should feel relieved.
So why did it feel like she couldn’t breathe?
Galinda had spent years perfecting the art of pretending. Pretending she was attracted to boys. Pretending she trusted any of her many friends enough to tell them the truth. Pretending she was so busy, so adored, so dazzling that food simply slipped her mind.
But Elphaba had seen her, actually seen her, and the illusion wobbled dangerously.
Galinda pressed her hands to her head.
She shouldn’t have told her anything. Not about food. Not about the pressure. Not about how Fiyero made her feel small and overwhelmed and unseen. She should have kept it all tucked away where it belonged.
But no one had ever cooked for her before.
Not like that.
Not quietly. Not gently. Not because they were genuinely worried about her.
People fussed over her appearance, her reputation. But Elphaba saw right past that.
And that terrified Galinda more than anything.
Because now Elphaba knew. Not everything, but enough to make Galinda’s façade feel painfully thin. Elphaba would watch her now. Notice when she skipped meals. Ask gentle questions with those impossibly beautiful eyes.
Galinda swallowed hard.
That was why she’d laughed it off. Why she’d begged Elphaba to forget it. Because Elphaba’s kindness made hiding impossible.
She sank onto the edge of her bed, palms pressing flat against the covers.
She thought of Elphaba in the courtyard that morning. Her voice soft, steady.
We don’t have to talk about it. Not unless you want to.
No judgment. No expectation. Just trust.
She’d hated it.
She’d loved it.
Her chest clenched painfully.
That was why she couldn’t let Elphaba know anything more. Why she had to convince her that everything was fine.
Because if she didn’t…
She was terrified of what that meant.
Terrified of the way her heart fluttered whenever Elphaba’s hand brushed against hers. Terrified of how warm and right the last few days together had felt. Terrified that when she’d pulled away, it hadn’t been because she wanted distance...
It was because she wanted Elphaba. Wanted her in a way she had never wanted anyone and that terrified her.
Chapter Text
The dining hall buzzed with its usual evening energy. Voices overlapping, laughter ricocheting off stone walls, the smell of warm bread and roasted vegetables hanging thick in the air.
Elphaba followed Nessarose and Boq to the long table by the windows, already aware of who was seated there.
Galinda looked immaculate.
She always did. Hair perfectly arranged, posture effortless, smile bright enough to catch the light. Fiyero lounged beside her, one arm draped comfortably around her shoulders like it belonged there.
Elphaba told herself not to stare. It had been a week since Galinda had repaired things with her boyfriend. From the outside, they looked like they’d slipped easily back into their place as Shiz’s power couple.
Boq and Nessa sat down opposite them. Elphaba took the seat beside her sister, noticing — immediately — the way Galinda’s shoulders tightened as they joined the table. Just a fraction. Just enough.
Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “I swear, if Dr Dillamond assigns one more essay, I’m dropping the class.”
Galinda laughed. “You can’t drop every class you don’t like.”
“I absolutely can,” Fiyero said easily. "School isn’t all about classes. It’s about...” He gestured vaguely around the hall. "...parties, people. Living a little.”
Elphaba felt irritation spark before she could stop it. “Some of us actually want to be here.”
Fiyero blinked, caught off guard, then shrugged. “I didn’t say I didn’t. Just saying there’s more to life than lectures.” He turned to Galinda. “Right, G?”
Elphaba bit back a sharper reply. She was lucky to be here. She knew that. Every class, every late night in the library felt earned.
She glanced at Galinda.
Galinda looked uncomfortable — not upset, exactly, but tight. Like she was trying to smooth something flat that refused to stay that way.
“I do wish there were slightly less lectures,” Galinda said eventually, light and careful.
Elphaba frowned.
That wasn’t true. Galinda loved her classes. Loved the structure, the competition, the satisfaction of excelling. She’d said as much, dozens of times.
Fiyero glanced between them, brow furrowing. “Did I miss something?”
Galinda’s smile sharpened. Brighter, quicker and she leaned subtly into Fiyero’s side. “Elphaba’s just tired,” she said lightly. “Aren’t you, Elphie?”
Elphaba stiffened at the nickname. “No?”
Galinda blinked, then laughed anyway, waving it off like a charming misunderstanding. “Well, I am. Today’s been endless.”
She reached for Fiyero’s hand, lacing her fingers through his with deliberate ease, and kissed his cheek, quick and practiced.
Fiyero brightened instantly.
Elphaba’s chest tightened.
Conversation dragged on. Boq talked animatedly about his latest mishap. Fiyero launched into a story about his family’s holiday castle. Galinda laughed, nodded, agreed — working hard to keep the table buoyant, pleasant.
When Fiyero stood to get more food, Galinda exhaled, just once. Tired. Unguarded.
She picked up her fork, nudged a piece of food across her plate, subtly angling it away, then took a bite. Small. Careful. She chewed, swallowed, her throat working harder than it should have.
Elphaba had seen that look before. The careful swallowing, the way she held herself still afterward — like eating was something she had to endure rather than enjoy.
Elphaba caught her eye. Just for a second.
“You okay?” Elphaba asked quietly. Casual. Careful.
Galinda straightened immediately. “I’m fine,” she said brightly.
Elphaba didn’t believe her but she let it go, the way she always did, storing the unease somewhere she told herself she didn’t need to examine.
Galinda launched into a story at once, effortless and charming. Boq laughed. Nessa smiled. Even Elphaba felt her mouth twitch despite herself. But Galinda didn’t hold Elphaba’s gaze. Every time their eyes met, she looked away — like staying there too long might undo something she was carefully keeping in place.
“So,” Fiyero said, returning, “who’s coming to the Lantern Ball this weekend?”
“Everyone,” Boq said.
“Obviously,” Fiyero grinned. He turned to Galinda. “You’ll come with me, right?"
Galinda laughed too quickly. “Of course.”
She attemped another bite, even smaller than last time, then wiped her mouth delicately and pivoted into a conversation with Nessa about dresses. Her foot bounced beneath the table. Her shoulders never quite settled.
Fiyero didn’t notice any of it.
Galinda touched his arm. Leaned in. Gave him her attention like an offering.
Something sharp twisted in Elphaba’s chest.
She didn’t know why it bothered her. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Critical, judgmental, unfair.
And yet, every time Galinda laughed at something Fiyero said, the sound scraped against her nerves.
When Galinda finally stood, she’d eaten no more than a few careful bites.
“I’m exhausted,” she said brightly. “I think I’ll turn in early.”
Fiyero rose immediately. “I’ll walk you.”
Galinda hesitated, barely perceptible, then smiled again. “Okay.”
As they left together, Fiyero’s hand settled possessively at her waist. Galinda leaned into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Elphaba told herself she was being dramatic. That Galinda was an adult. That whatever this was, it wasn’t her responsibility.
She stared down at Galinda’s abandoned plate. The food had already begun to cool.
Chapter Text
After dinner, Elphaba and Nessa made their way up the path towards the dorm rooms in silence. The air was cool and smelling faintly of damp leaves. Elphaba was lost in her thoughts.
Nessa rolled beside her, her wheels crunching lightly over scattered gravel. She cleared her throat once. Then again. The way she always did when she was deciding whether to push.
“Elphaba.”
Elphaba pretended not to hear her.
“Elphaba.”
She sighed. “What?”
“You’re upset.”
“I’m tired.”
“No,” Nessa said, voice firm. “You’re upset.”
Elphaba huffed, keeping her eyes forward on the dark grass, the path, anywhere but her sister’s knowing face.
Nessa watched her for several seconds, expression softening into the kind of patience that made Elphaba feel both loved and seen straight through.
“You’re my sister,” she said quietly. “I’ve known you my entire life. I know when something’s wrong.”
Elphaba clenched her jaw. “Nessa, nothing is wrong.”
“That’s not true,” Nessa replied. “You barely said a word all evening. You kept looking like… like you were waiting for something awful to happen.”
Elphaba swallowed. She hadn’t realised it was that obvious.
Nessa pressed on.
“Is it Fiyero? Do you have feelings for him?”
Elphaba actually laughed, short, sharp.
"No.”
Nessa raised her brows. “Then why did you look like you wanted to set him on fire every time he opened his mouth?”
“Because he opened his mouth,” Elphaba muttered.
Nessa sighed, exasperated. “Then it must be Galinda.”
Elphaba’s steps faltered.
“Have you two fallen out again?”
"…Sort of,” she admitted. Things between them had been slightly off since she’d made her that soup last week. Not bad – if anything, they’d been getting along better. Quiet. Careful. Like both of them were pretending not to notice how much had changed.
Nessa threw her hands up a little.
“Elphaba, honestly don’t let her get under your skin. She’s… well, she’s Galinda.”
Elphaba narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means she’s stuck-up and shallow and—” Nessa shrugged. “—she lives on three bites of dinner and a lot of air.”
Elphaba stopped walking.
“That isn’t funny,” Elphaba said, voice low.
Something hot and sharp twisted in her chest. Anger, yes, but wrapped around something deeper. Protective. Fearful.
Nessa’s expression shifted, from irritation, to surprise, to dawning confusion.
“Elphaba… I didn’t mean— I thought you didn’t even like her.”
Elphaba looked away, throat tightening.
“I never said that.”
Nessa stared at her, wheels still, mouth opening and closing.
"Talk to me. I’m your sister. Is she… did she do something? Did you two fight?"
“No,” Elphaba snapped, too quickly.
Nessa blinked.
Elphaba closed her eyes briefly, collecting herself. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, frayed around the edges.
“Just… forget it, Nessa. Please.”
Nessa’s worry sharpened at once.
“Elphaba, if she said something that hurt you—”
“She didn’t,” Elphaba interrupted. A beat. “She didn’t.”
But her voice was too soft. Too quick.
Nessa studied her for a moment, concern etched deep. The same look she’d worn for years, whenever the world had been unkind to her. When she spoke again, it was slower. Less defensive.
“Do you care about her?” Nessa asked. Not accusing, not teasing, just curious.
Elphaba swallowed. She didn't know how to answer that question.
“Goodnight, Nessa.”
She turned away, thinking of the quiet of their dorm room – familiar, comforting, and lately threaded with things neither of them would name. But somehow, still a place she looked forward to retreating to nightly. A place where Galinda seemed to stop performing, if only briefly.
“Wait,” Nessa said suddenly.
Elphaba stopped.
Nessa rolled closer, tilting her head, eyes bright and stubborn in that familiar way. “Do you have to go? Can’t we hang out for a while like we used to back home?"
“Nessa—”
“I promise,” she cut in quickly, lifting a hand. “I won’t ask. I won’t analyse. I won’t even mention Galinda. Please? I miss you.”
It was transparent. It was manipulative. It worked.
Elphaba exhaled. “You’re unbelievable.”
Nessa grinned, triumphant.
As they turned down the opposite path, away from the dorm she shared with Galinda, Elphaba told herself she was being ridiculous.
Galinda was her friend. Her first real one, maybe, but still just a friend. Wanting her to be happy didn’t give her any claim over her choices.
And yet the image of Galinda leaning into Fiyero replayed in her mind, wrong in a way she couldn’t quite explain, followed by the memory of Galinda’s hand in hers, warm, steady, comfortable.
Elphaba tried to tell herself the tightness in her chest was only concern. Concern for a friend who smiled too brightly. Concern for someone forcing herself into a life that clearly didn’t fit.
But the feeling wouldn’t settle. It lingered, sharp and unresolved, leaving Elphaba troubled by how much she cared and by how little she seemed able to stop.
Chapter Text
The library had nearly emptied by the time Galinda realised she was no longer reading
The lamps burned low along the shelves, casting long shadows across the bookcases. it was late.
It had been a strange week. The kind that looked normal from the outside but left her more tired at the end of each day than the one before. Smiles felt heavier. Everything seemed to require more effort than it should have.
The ache behind her eyes had been there all day. A dull, pulsing pressure that wrapped around her temples and crept down the back of her neck, tightening whenever she tried to focus. She rolled her shoulders, then her neck, willing it to ease.
It didn’t.
She told herself it was just a migraine. That was normal. Reasonable. Much easier to explain than the truth.
Her stomach fluttered, hollow and sour all at once. She shifted in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her ankles beneath the desk, then pressed her palm briefly to her middle as if she could will it into behaving.
The movement sent a brief wash of dizziness through her, the edges of the room blurring before snapping back into place. She stilled, waiting for it to pass. Because the idea of eating — of forcing something down past the tightness in her throat — made her nauseous in a way hunger never had.
The thought of the dining hall made her chest tighten. The long tables, the noise, the smell of the food on her plate. The way questions lingered even when no one asked them.
Tonight, it had been easier to come here instead.
Don’t think about it.
Don’t think about dinner.
Don’t think about Elphaba.
She’d caught herself watching Elphaba more than once this week. The way her hair fell loose when she stopped bothering to pin it back, the way her concentration softened her face instead of sharpening it. It startled Galinda every time. Not because it felt wrong. But because it felt so easy.
Lately, the quiet moments in their dorm had been the best part of her day — the rare hours where she didn’t have to be dazzling or desirable or pretend. Elphaba never asked her to be anything other than present. Sometimes Galinda caught herself just watching her, struck by how beautiful she was in that unguarded, unaware way.
The thought made her chest ache. She pushed it aside, squeezing her eyes shut, just for a second.
No. Not now.
She bent closer to the page, tracing a line of text with her quill without realising she wasn’t actually writing anything. Her head throbbed harder, nausea rising in slow, unpleasant waves.
She could handle this.
“Galinda?”
Her heart leapt painfully into her throat. She looked up too quickly, the room tilting for a moment before she found her balance again.
Fiyero stood at the end of the table, hands shoved into his pockets, expression caught somewhere between confused and relieved.
“Oh,” she said, too brightly. “Hi.”
His brows knit together. “I didn’t see you at dinner.”
“I have a migraine,” she said easily. “I figured I’d get some studying done instead.”
Fiyero glanced at the towering stack of books, then back at her face. “Studying… with a migraine?”
She shrugged, light and careless. “Keeps my mind off it.”
Fiyero didn’t look convinced, but he pulled out the chair opposite her and dropped into it anyway. He leaned forward as he did, forearms braced on the table, close enough that she caught the faint scent of smoke and citrus from his jacket.
Fiyero studied her for a moment longer than she liked. Galinda shifted back in her chair without quite meaning to, spine straightening, shoulders tightening as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Are we okay?”
The question landed harder than she expected.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, choosing her words with care. “Of course we are.”
“You’ve just been…” He hesitated. “Distant. Ever since the nightclub.”
Guilt coiled tight in her chest.
“Fiyero, I’m not mad at you,” she said quickly, too quickly. “Really. I promise.”
He exhaled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Good. Because I like you, Galinda. A lot.”
Her stomach lurched.
Fiyero reached out without thinking, fingers brushing her wrist where it rested on the table.
Galinda’s breath caught. She laughed softly, a reflex, and drew her hand back to her lap as if she’d only meant to adjust her sleeve.
She smiled, the one she’d perfected over years of expectation. “Well, I like you too.”
“I mean it,” he said, earnest now. “At the ball tomorrow – I’m not dancing with anyone else. Just you. I want you to know that.”
The words were meant to reassure her. Instead, they settled like a weight.
Her head throbbed harder. The nausea crept higher.
“That’s… sweet,” she said, though her voice felt a fraction too thin.
Galinda lowered her gaze, fingers tightening around her quill.
This was what she was supposed to want.
She thought of Elphaba again, steady hands, quiet concern, the way she never asked for anything Galinda couldn’t give.
If she stayed very still, very composed, maybe the feelings would stay buried where they belonged.
She smiled up at Fiyero, brighter this time, even as her head spun and her chest ached with everything she wasn’t allowing herself to feel and wondered, not for the first time, how much longer she could keep pretending before she forgot where the lies ended and the truth began.