Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You were gone for forever,” Galinda declares with a loud sigh the moment Elphaba opens the door, flopping backward onto her bed teeming with pink pillows. “A million clock ticks… no, a billion!”

Elphaba smiles in spite of herself. “I’m sorry, I got back as fast as I could,” she hums, which is not strictly true. She’d taken the long way back from Sorcery Seminar, the way that led through the freezing deserted courtyard and included a very long hiatus in the first floor bathrooms to warm her hands under the faucet and get her nerve back. She hadn’t been avoiding Galinda, of course.

Or at least not consciously.

“What did Morrible want to talk to you about, anyway?” Galinda asks. She’s doing that thing where she cocks her head and juts out her bottom lip, that thing where she pretends something isn’t hurting her feelings. Sorcery hadn’t gone all that well today. Elphaba had briefly considered levitating Galinda’s coin for her before deciding against it.

“Oh, nothing,” Elphaba deflects, but Galinda raises an eyebrow dubiously. “She just, um, she wanted to show me a spell in my reading for next class that she wants me to try out. It’s nothing, really.”

Galinda is on the brink of pushing it further, Elphaba can tell because of that little furrow between her brows. So she shakes her head, smiling ever so slightly, and Galinda nods.

“But you must be positively exhaustified!” she exclaims instead, hopping up from her bed to prance toward Elphaba. “All that extra work, and it’s so cold outside, and you hardly ate a bite at lunch—”

“Galinda,” Elphaba laughs, tugging off her scarf, “I ate a whole sandwich and half of yours, honestly—”

“— and, to top it all off, you have to come back to such a depressifying dormitory!” Galinda announces, gesturing toward Elphaba’s bare stretch of wall, the threadbare quilt folded on her bed. “I thought we’d discussed this. No matter, I know exactly how we can fix it— I’ll drop some well placed hints about your utter need for room decor at lunch tomorrow, that way your Secret Lurline will surely get the message. Speaking of!” Galinda hums, brightening, and Elphaba feels her stomach sink.

They’d drawn names at lunch and Elphaba had uncurled her little slip of paper with a very particular feeling in her chest, almost like premonition, almost like knowing. And there it had been under the lights in the Buttery, that note with its smooth cursive curling around a G, the tiny intricate Galinda chased with a little heart scrawled beside it, so much care in everything she did.

“Speaking of,” Elphaba continues seamlessly, in her opinion, toeing off her boots and dropping her books atop her desk, “Have you started Dillamond’s homework yet? If you still want help on the short response you let me know, alright?”

“Yes, alright, but that isn’t what I was going to say and you know it,” Galinda huffs. “Who’d you get, Elphie?”

Elphaba adjusts her books so the spines are straight, as straight as can be. “I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules, Galinda,” she murmurs. “Secret Lurline, remember? It’s in the name.”

“But where’s the fun in that,” Galinda protests, and Elphaba can hear her pout without even looking at her. “Besides, I already know who Biq has, he looked right at Fiyero the second he opened his slip of paper. And I’ll even let you in on a disastrous secret— I have Biq. Me! Galinda Upland!”

“Boq,” Elphaba hums patiently. “Remember, Galinda? We talked about this, didn’t we?”

“Oh, whatever, Boq,” Galinda announces with a wave of her hand. “I am feeling a severified lack of sympathy right now, Elphie. Not that there’s anything wrong with Boq, he’s perfectly… well, friendly. But I was hoping for a certain person.”

“Fiyero?” Elphaba nods, finally glancing up. She meets Galinda’s eyes and oh, they’re like chestnuts, like warm firewood. Sometimes she looks at Galinda and can’t bring herself to look away.

“What? No, you!” Galinda says, nose wrinkling. “I wanted you, and instead I got Biq— sorry, I’m sorry, Boq!— and I do believe Lurline herself has it out for me. It would’ve been the most wonderfulocious Lurlinemas gift ever, Elphie, so jot that down.”

Elphaba laughs. She finds herself doing this a lot, too, laughing before she realizes it. Galinda’s eyes light up and she smiles ever so slightly in response, dimple creasing on her cheek and oh, Elphaba’s heart stutters just a little.

“I’ll help you with Boq’s present,” she tells Galinda. “We can talk to Nessa— most covertly, of course. She won’t suspect a thing.”

A beat, and then Galinda is crushing her arms around Elphaba’s shoulders. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Elphie, I knew you’d love Secret Lurline. Even though you insistified that you weren’t going to participate. Remember? Remember when you told me that?”

“I remember,” Elphaba hums. “It was only last week, after all.”

“Oh, but Elphie, you’ve distractified me. You never answered my question. Who do you have? Is it Nessa? Or—”

“Yes,” Elphaba blurts, mind working a mile a minute. “Yes, I drew Nessa’s name. You really shouldn’t tell anyone else about that, though, because it’s—”

“Secret, yes, I know,” Galinda mutters, and pushes back to hold Elphaba at arms length. “Oh, but Nessa! That’s lovely, seeing as you’ll know exactly what to get her. I always wanted a sister, but then I realized it probably wouldn't be very good for me. I’m not the best at sharing, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

Elphaba’s lip quirks. She’s noticed, of course she has— she’s seen Galinda nearly break Fiyero’s fingers simply because he’d helped himself to a bite of her chocolate mousse, she’s seen the way Galinda’s parents dote on her even from so far away. She’s seen, though it is still rather unbelievable, how much Galinda hates to share her, Elphaba Thropp. The jealous set of her jaw when another student asks her to partner up for a project, the faintest of pouts that emerges whenever Fiyero pays her too much attention. Elphaba rather likes it, she’s found, but Galinda hardly needs to know.

But now Galinda’s hand on her upper arm is hot, even though the thick layer of her cable-knit sweater. Her eyes are so wide, so brown, so pretty.

“Only a little,” she says, and Galinda nods assuredly and tosses some blonde hair over her shoulder. Elphaba watches it, entranced. She adores Galinda, she wants her terribly. This is something she has grown to learn.

“Well, anyhow. I think this is going to be the most wonderful Lurlinemas ever, and that’s saying quite a bit seeing as it’s—”

“Your favorite holiday,” Elphaba nods. Galinda blinks, swallows. Her face is quite close.

“That’s right,” she murmurs, a strange something on her face. “My very favorite.”

Elphaba’s mouth feels strangely dry. Galinda takes a step back and wobbles on her heels but rights herself quickly, grabbing a perfume bottle and spraying her wrists one at a time before hopping backwards onto her own bed once more.

The rest of the evening is rather typical, all things considered. There is a pile of homework— not a pile, Galinda moans, a mountain— and a dinner gone long. It’s warm in the Buttery, something that cannot be said of the dorm rooms up high in the towers, and conversation flows easily around the table, Nessa’s cheeks are all flushed with laughter and it’s such a wonderful sight that Elphaba gets stuck on it momentarily. There’s still time at Shiz, whole years to come, but she’s struck suddenly by a desperate urge to never leave this place, this place that has been so good to Nessa, to both of them.

And when they finally get back to their room it is very cold and very dark. Galinda’s teeth are chattering by the time they make it across the courtyard and to the stairwell; her nose is red and her hat is drooping sadly to one side.

“I’m positively freezified,” she shudders, pressing close against Elphaba. “Elphie, this might be the last you hear from me. I’m certain to pass away from chill. Will you come to my sickbed, dearest? And please do make sure everyone cries at my funeral— none of that dabbing at the eyes business either, I want real tears and touching eulogies.”

Elphaba smiles. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she says. “It’d be a sad life with no roommate.”

Galinda pouts. “I just don’t know how I’ll ever recover,” she sighs.

Elphaba looks at her, biting down on her lip. “I’ll make you hot cocoa from the fancy mix,” she says, and hopes it doesn’t sound terribly awkward. “You can get under the covers, will that help?”

Galinda nods pitifully, though she’s still pouting. Elphaba is hit with a wave of affection so strong she has to breathe deliberately, has to take stock of all the spots along her arm where Galinda’s body is pressed. She wishes, for one deep frustrated moment, that she was more. More experienced, better with friendship, with affection. More romantic, even. Sometimes she forgets how people act, forgets what is considered acceptable. She wants to wrap Galinda up, dote on her and tease her— my poor baby, those are the words that flutter around her head, but Elphaba Thropp doesn’t use words like that. It would be silly. Galinda would think she was being so, so silly.

But Galinda’s still pouting. “What else can I do?” Elphaba asks, soft as she can manage, and Galinda’s lips quirk up betraying her satisfaction at a plan well concocted.

“It might just help to have someone in bed with me,” Galinda says, blinking at Elphaba through her long lashes. “For warmth. Just like penguins.”

This is a newer addition, something that’s only happened a handful of times so far. Four, to be exact, not that Elphaba is counting. It’s always under the guise of the weather, and it always starts with Galinda’s big pouty eyes and the tentative way she tugs on the pink blankets on her bed, scooting over to allow Elphaba the space near the wall, her favorite. She couldn’t resist if she wanted to, Elphaba thinks, and really she doesn’t.

“Alright,” Elphaba says, and Galinda lets out a loud squeak of joy. “But you have to promise to let me have time to read first.”

“I promise,” Galinda gasps, eyes still wide. “I promise and swearify. I wouldn’t even dream of interrupting you. It’ll be a Galinda free zone, except for me being quite nearby you. A Galinda silence zone, how’s that? I won’t make a peep. Just like a penguin, really! Do penguins make noise, Elphie, do you know? I’ve certainly never heard them but then again, I don’t spend overmuch time around penguins, so then…”

Galinda’s chatter can sustain her. It does even an hour later when, teeth brushed and face washed, Elphaba finds herself sandwiched in between Galinda and the wall. She’s reading her book, or so she’s said, but in truth she’s finding it quite hard to focus. This is, of course, on account of Galinda. Who else?

It’s just that she’s so warm. Warm and solid, moving as she breathes and lying with her head touching Elphaba’s thigh where she’s sitting. She’s being quiet but her hand is tracing the spirally embroidery on Elphaba’s nightgown, she’s being careful but still Elphaba’s heart is beating far too fast. Galinda’s hair is tumbling over her shoulder, over the bare expanse of skin where her nightgown has slipped down on account of the bedsheets pulling, and it is so golden in the lamplight that Elphaba wants to touch it. She wants to run her hands through it, to see if it’s as soft as it looks— she wonders what Galinda would say. Would she like it? Would she move away and let out a nervous laugh and tell Elphaba to go back to her own bed for the night?

Elphaba isn’t used to beauty being so up close. She’s learned that it’s a lot to handle some of the time.

Galinda’s blinking up at her, Elphaba notices suddenly. “Are you alright?”

Elphaba smiles fondly. “What happened to the Galinda silence zone?”

And Galinda pouts again. “I was being very quiet, but then you got all stiff feeling and you hadn’t turned a page in one hundred and thirty three seconds— which is more than two minutes, in case you didn’t know— and normally you read much faster than that. Much much faster.”

Galinda is so observant, Elphaba thinks with a rush, she is so caring. She nods softly.

“I’m okay, truly,” she says, “just tired. I think I’ll be done reading now, if that’s alright.”

Galinda squeals. “It’s more than alright! Oh, oh, this means we can cuddle. Does it, Elphie, can we?”

“We can,” Elphaba says, amused as she passes Galinda her book to tuck onto the bedside table with her glasses. “It is rather cold in here.”

“I know,” Galinda gasps, clicking her tongue and raising her eyebrows. “Really unhealthy, I mean, someone ought to say something.”

Elphaba’s lips twitch. She slides down into the covers a bit more; Galinda lifts her head so that she can adjust, so that she can move in close and rest her chin on Elphaba’s shoulder. Elphaba can smell her perfume that’s been rinsed off for the day, can see the shimmer of her nighttime lip balm— a different scent from her morning and afternoon and night out glosses, of course. She can feel the radiating cold from her feet, the layers of blankets piled up near the foot of the bed.

And then Galinda leans over to switch off the light. “I won’t keep you up,” she yawns, and settles closer again. “Goodnight, Elphie.”

She’s asleep quickly, Galinda often is. Elphaba, though, lies awake.

The situation is, to make a long story short, not good. By all accounts Elphaba is a reasonable person and not a hysterical one but she does lie awake long after Galinda’s dropped off to sleep thinking, and worrying, and then thinking some more. The fire is still spitting embers and Galinda’s hair is still spilled over Elphaba’s shoulder. It smells like vanilla.

Lurlinemas is Galinda’s favorite holiday, her most treasured day of the year besides her birthday. Elphaba knows this. She’s known this since that first week of friendship, back when Galinda had asked her a hundred questions and told her a thousand facts about her own life. Galinda Upland prefers silver to gold and pancakes to waffles. She is the winner of two archery championships back in Frottica but she’s hung up the bow and arrow, as it were. She loves Lurlinemas and her birthday is in the summer and Elphaba has penned it into her calendar already, months and months away but still something to look at. Galinda likes to decorate her notes with hearts and stars and flowers; to Elphaba it doesn’t feel quite natural so she’s underlined the birthday once, shakily, and put extra care into each curve of Galinda’s name. That should do for something.

It's just that Elphaba has no chance. Galinda deserves something special, something as beautiful and lovely as she is. She’ll get it, too, from her momsie and popsicle who are willing to shell out any sum for their daughter. That is the problem, or one of them. Galinda could ask for anything, any passing whim or tiny trinket that would make her smile for a fraction of a second, and her parents would buy it for her without a second glance. Anytime Galinda mentions something— a new perfume or a ruby flecked hairpin— it arrives in the mail days later with lipstick kisses pressed to the envelope.

And she deserves it, too. She deserves the best. At risk of sounding too sentimental, Elphaba really isn’t sure what to make of Galinda, this strange girl all twisted up and jumbled around. Nessa would know what to get her, or better yet Fiyero. And instead she got stuck with Elphaba, who will try her hardest but surely won’t win. Elphaba, who knows that Galinda’s friendship and affection doesn’t make sense.

She’s willing to do anything she can to keep it, though. Galinda likes her— loves her, she’s said through a yawn and even a squeal, and Elphaba wants to believe it. Galinda, her first real friend. Galinda with her vanilla shampoo and her pretty eyes and her ridiculous set of four hairbrushes.

What do you get a girl who has everything?

Shiz Proper is awash in twinkling Lurlinemas lights, each and every building dusted with snow. It looks like a gingerbread village, the kind that the children in Elphaba’s storybooks used to build for the season. Her father hadn’t approved of messy activities like decorating cookies; Lurlinemas back home was always a rather formal affair. Galinda had made gingerbread houses, no doubt.

“And I think we should make a stop at that boutique I like, just in case,” Galinda chatters on beside her. “When I was there last weekend they had a whole selection of ascots, so charming for a boy!”

“I can’t really see Boq wearing an ascot,” Elphaba says thoughtfully. Galinda goes quiet for a moment before she sighs, loud and deep.

“You’re right, of course. I almost forgot who I was shopping for,” she mutters, flopping most dramatically against a lamppost. As she crashes into it a dusting of snow falls from it, getting on Elphaba’s hat and eyelashes and landing in a little heap by her feet. “Of course I would get the most borifying person in the entire pool. Elphie, I’ve got an idea! What if we traded? I could get something for Nessa— she’s got such adorable dresses, I could definitely work with that— and you can take Biq! Boq, I mean!”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Elphaba says with only a touch of the irony present. Galinda pouts hugely.

“Well, why ever not?”

“How about this,” Elphaba says desperately, meeting Galinda’s sad brown eyes hopefully. “If you find something for Boq today it’ll be all done and taken care of, and I won’t even say a word if you buy yourself twelve accessories while you’re at it. Just think of it as a shopping trip! With one… well, minorly unpleasant element.”

Galinda tilts her head slowly, ever so slightly. “I suppose that’s true,” she murmurs. “A shopping trip.”

“And you love shopping trips,” Elphaba supplies helpfully. Her fingertips are beginning to get a bit cold, considering her gloves are all worn through on the palm. Maybe her Secret Lurline will get her a new pair, that would certainly be useful. Or maybe she could just move closer to Galinda, who looks so warm in her fuzzy hat and scarf and…

But no. She can’t get herself thinking about things like that.

“And it’s a shopping trip with you,” Galinda says. “And you never want to go shopping, Elphie! You know, you could do me a favor if you wanted to make this horrendible ordeal all better. I think I should be allowed to purchase one tiny little item for you as a therapeutic tactic— I do believe it would help with my dreadful despair. Think about it, please.”

This is the thing about Galinda, her unfailing sweetness. She’s pressed against the lamppost and her colorful coat stands out against the chipped black paint, and her cheeks and nose are pink with cold, and Elphaba finds that she’d quite like to press closer and kiss the pink away. Silly, silly.

“I’ll think about it,” Elphaba allows diplomatically. “Boq first, though. What about the sweet shop, they must have something good in there.”

The sweet shop smells like spun sugar, light and airy on Elphaba’s tongue the moment they step inside. Galinda grabs ahold of her hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and Elphaba can’t help but smile over at her.

It’s a lovely little place, a place that Elphaba would never have dreamed of existing in before this year. Oh, sure, she’d spent time at the shops in Nest Hardings with Nessarose but it felt different here, there was an independence in the air and that shiver of it— I could do anything I want to do now, anything at all.

And besides, Galinda is here. She looks at home against the wall of wrapped candies in every color, the chocolate bunnies and caramel apples and swirled spools of cotton candy. Sweet, Elphaba thinks, and feels immediately embarrassed by it. It is true, though. Galinda is the sweetest thing she knows.

“Oh, Elphie! Look at the chocolate snowmen, their little noses are so divine! Or caramel squares, you love caramel, I’ll—”

“But we’re not shopping for me, are we,” Elphaba says patiently, trying not to focus on the point of contact between their clasped hands. “We’re here for Boq.”

Galinda lets out a truly hyperbolic sigh, slumping forward so that her head hits Elphaba’s shoulder. “But that’s so boring,” she mutters into the felt of Elphaba’s coat, and Elphaba shivers at the sensation of her lips moving. “Boys are so boring, don’t you think? Thank Oz we have each other, I really don’t know what I’d do otherwise.”

Elphaba swallows. Galinda’s always saying things like this, things like how much there is to learn at college about fantabulocious best friendships and boring old boys. Elphaba, in turn, has come to learn quite a lot about being besotted with said best friend, about what it means to have a crush— that tingling sensation when closeness is promised. She pictures Frex’s face if he were to hear about these sorts of scholarly discoveries, the horror, and almost laughs aloud.

“Let’s get him a little box of truffles,” she says, sidestepping slightly so that Galinda has to pick her head up. She does, looking ruffled and pouty, and Elphaba’s heart skips. “What flavors, Galinda?”

“Caramel,” she hums, glancing up at Elphaba. “That’s your favorite. And cherry, that’s my favorite.”

“For Boq,” Elphaba reminds her, eyebrows raised, and Galinda lets out another long suffering sigh.

“I don’t know what he wants! I still think we should call for a redraw, Elphaba, and then maybe I’ll draw your name. I’d keep it a complete and utter secret, of course, and I’d get you the most lovelified present in all of Oz and…”

If only Elphaba had an ounce of her confidence. She shakes her head.

“How about this,” she murmurs, stepping ever so slightly closer to Galinda. “If you pick something out for Boq I’ll buy myself something, too.”

Galinda perks up in an instant, flitting her way toward the counter. “Hello there!” she proclaims in a sing-song voice, “One box of truffles, please?”

The shopping trip is something of a failure. It’s a success for Galinda, at least, who’s somewhat mollified on the way back to Shiz by boat, Elphaba’s stomach turning from eating too much of the peanut brittle Galinda had insisted on buying her— but Elphaba leaves it with even less of an idea for the gift than she’d gone into it with.

“I hope he likes the soaps and things,” Galinda says, flopping indelicately onto the wall of the boat. “The only thing worse than being a boy has got to be shopping for one. All that cologne smells just horrendible to me, I must be coming down with a terrible cold. It gives one a headache, you know.”

“I think he’ll like them,” Elphaba assures her, though she’s not so sure. Boq’s going to get a handful of chocolates, a fancy lotion from the apothecary— the only one from the men’s line that Galinda hadn’t gagged theatrically over— and a handkerchief. “He cries a lot,” Galinda had explained earnestly, handing over her coins. “So this is really quite generous on our part, you know.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Galinda nods thoughtfully. “Oh, Elphie, I can’t believe it’s almost Lurlinemas break! Just a clock tick and then I’ll be back in Frottica.”

Elphaba smiles, tugging her coat tighter around her neck and watching as Galinda tracks the movement. “It’ll be nice.”

Galinda nods again, but Elphaba can tell her mind has drifted— she knows these things about Galinda now, the look she gets on her face when she’s contemplating or worrying or even making a decision. “Elphie?”

“Yes?” Elphaba says slowly, squinting out at the water, over to where the lights of the school glance and glimmer on the still surface. Galinda hums.

“Are you… excited? About Lurlinemas?”

And there it is, the question she’s been anticipating. Galinda looks so hopeful, eyes wide and lip twisting in and out of her mouth, but there’s an undercurrent of something else there too. Elphaba smiles warily.

“It’ll be nice to be done with final exams,” she says diplomatically, “and I like the winter, I always have. In Munchkinland they decorate the streets with Lurlinemas lights and you can see them all the way from Colwen Grounds, I used to try to count them from my window.”

Galinda smiles back at her, a touch melancholy but with something like understanding. “And then we’ll be back at school. And Dillamond said we’d be discussing post-Ozmaic history next term, didn’t he?”

She pronounces the words delicately, careful and tender in the way she looks at Elphaba, and so Elphaba feels shot through the heart. There are only so many good things in the world, she’s sure of it, and somehow she’s wound up lucky enough to keep one so close to her. Galinda seems to positively sparkle sometimes. She looks at Elphaba like she knows, like she understands, and Elphaba can’t help but smile back at her.

“He did,” she nods. “I think you’ll like it. It’s a very conceptual period.”

“Oh, probably not,” Galinda says with a little toss of her hair, and Elphaba can’t help but laugh. “Of course history is ever so important but sometimes it can be so dreadfully somber. Oh, but Elphie?”

“Yes?” Elphaba says around a smile, flush with tenderness.

“I was only wondering if… well, over Lurlinemas break,” she starts, pausing to flick her eyes over to Elphaba, waiting for her to nod, “well, if I could write to you? Only because I’ll be ever so lonely and borified all the way out in Frottica, and it gets so cold in the Uplands— not to mention the Upper Uplands, why, it hailed last year!— so of course it’s really quite selfish on my part, since there’s no chance you’d be lonely whatsoever on account of—”

“Galinda,” Elphaba hums, choosing to press a hand to Galinda’s leg if only to expel some of the aching sweetness she feels full of, if only to breathe her way through her emotions, “that would be good.”

Galinda blinks, cheeks pink. “Oh! Really?”

“Yes, please,” Elphaba murmurs, and tries not to sound too desperate because that won’t do, not for Galinda. She is ever so lucky to have Galinda at all, in any way; it won’t do to go spoiling it by being too eager and too clingy and too… too, as Galinda might say. “I would really like that.”

“Good,” Galinda nods thoughtfully, drumming her fingers atop the wrapped box of chocolates in her lap. “I promise I’ll only write about things you’ll find interesting. I was worried, of course, about going so long without you.”

“It’s just three weeks,” Elphaba says, throat catching, face flushing. She ignores the thrumming of her blood in her wrists and arms and chest. Galinda pouts. “I’ll miss you too, of course.”

“Of course,” Galinda nods. “Good, so I’ll write to you. Oh, excellent! Roommates do these things for each other, you know. Friends do these things, best friends.”

Elphaba wouldn’t know. She’s never had a best friend. She’s never had anything like what she has with Galinda, after all.

The boat will dock soon. Galinda will pull her by her wrist back up to their dorm room and she will shiver until Elphaba brews her some tea. She will fret about the fact that Elphaba hadn’t bought a present for Nessa, and Elphaba will fret about the fact that she needs one for Galinda. Galinda, who shimmers and shines and shouldn’t want for anything. Galinda, who would smile if Elphaba picked up a rock off the side of the road for her present. Elphaba squeezes her eyes shut and tries to fight the nausea of the rocking water.

“What in Oz are you reading?”

Elphaba looks up with a start, hand coming up to cover her page before she realizes who’s waiting expectantly before her. It’s only Nessa, eyebrows raised and hair pinned up with little barrettes that look like peppermints.

“Galinda gave them to me,” Nessa says with a little smile when she tracks Elphaba’s gaze, hand coming up to fidget with one of them protectively. “She said they’re seasonal. And that they’d match my dress.”

“I like them,” Elphaba smiles, and shifts her chair ever so slightly to the right so that Nessa can wheel in beside her. “Very festive. Did you finish your Linguification essay yet? I’ve been editing my third subtopic but I worry—”

“Haven’t even started,” Nessa says airily, leaning in to tug at the corner of Elphaba’s reading. “I’m more interested in this, anyway— I’ve known you twenty years, Elphaba, and I’ve never seen you reading Ozmopolitan.”

Elphaba feels her face heat. “It’s nothing,” she mutters. “I read lots of things.”

“You do,” Nessa agrees, “and none of them come with perfume samples. What’s going on? And don’t try to lie, I’ll know.”

Elphaba looks up. The light is falling oddly in the library, white and still in the midafternoon. It’s always like this in the winter, but she’s never spent a winter at Shiz before; how strange is it to learn what a season looks like in a brand new place? It slants across her page, making the glossy overlay glisten. She sighs.

“Fine,” she agrees, “but you can’t tell anybody. Not even Boq, not even Galinda. Especially not Galinda.”

Nessa nods, eyes round, and for a moment Elphaba sees her as a child, the girl whose coats she’d buttoned each and every morning. Little Nessa, Nessa who liked cinnamon sugar on her toast and striped sheets on her bed. She’d always loved secrets, always.

“I didn’t really want to do Secret Lurline in the first place,” she starts, “but Galinda was so excited about it and I thought I’d draw someone easy, like you or Fiyero or even… but then I didn’t.”

“You got Galinda,” Nessa nods, and Elphaba blanches.

“How did you know?”

“How did I…? Elphaba, really!” Nessa laughs. “You basically told me!”

“That’s not true!” Elphaba protests, fidgeting with the magazine in front of her. “I could’ve drawn Boq.”

“You wouldn’t be shopping for Boq in Ozmopolitan,” Nessa says logically, and Elphaba has to hand it to her for that one. “But what’s the problem, then?”

Elphaba looks up at her incredulously. “What?”

“What’s the problem?” Nessa repeats, tugging the magazine closer to thumb through the pages. “Galinda’s your best friend, isn’t she?”

“Of course she is,” Elphaba huffs, somewhat defensively, and tugs the magazine back. She’s been circling things in the catalog with an inky purple marker she’d borrowed from Galinda’s desk; she can’t have Nessa smudging the pages. “So it’s got to be something really good, and Galinda’s… well. She’s already got everything she wants.”

It’s true, isn’t it? Galinda on her bed surrounded by pillows, Galinda at her vanity spraying perfume and spreading lotion and applying blush all with a pleased little hum, Elphaba watching her all mesmerized. When Galinda wants something she gets it.

Nessa settles in, plopping a handful of textbooks onto the table before them. They thud and spread apart, Nessa’s loopy handwriting on pages of notes fluttering in the air they produce. “Huh,” she says thoughtfully, and flips open one of the dustier books with a flourish. Elphaba almost rolls her eyes, almost. This is something Nessa does, making Elphaba flat out ask for her advice. It’s really rather annoying but Elphaba will do it anyway, of course she will.

“What is it,” she says flatly, and Nessa looks up with mock surprise.

“Oh,” she hums, “nothing, really. I was just thinking about Galinda. How she’s going to like any present you get her.”

Elphaba does roll her eyes this time. “It isn’t so easy,” she stresses. “If Galinda says she wants a new dress do you know what she does? She goes out and gets herself a new dress. There’s nothing she wants and doesn’t have, Nessa, so it really isn’t—”

“That might be true, but I don’t think it really matters,” Nessa shrugs. “On my birthday Boq got me that wonderful necklace and of course I already have necklaces, but it was special anyway because he got it for me. Do you see?”

“But that’s different,” Elphaba says, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair. The wood feels quite hard along her spine all of a sudden. “That’s… Boq is your boyfriend, Nessa.”

They’re talking around it again. She knows she loves Galinda, she knows how much. She won’t say it, of course, because it wouldn’t be fair. And then there’s a flash of panic— does Nessa know? Do Boq and Fiyero? Does everyone in the school know and are they thinking about it, about her and Galinda?

“Yes, well,” Nessa says, waving her hand. “Here’s what I mean: Galinda would like anything you get her, do you know why? Because it’s from you, that’s why.”

Elphaba feels uncomfortable for a whole new reason, teeth grinding against each other and mouth feeling rather dry. Nessa is looking at her neutrally, face open and thoughtful before she turns back to her book, using a fingertip to trace underneath the line she’s reading the way she’s always done, ever since she was a child. Elphaba used to read to her, once, and then Nessa had grown up and who would remember that now?

“Not anything,” Elphaba protests weakly, just to have something to do with her words. “If I got her a… I don’t know, an old shoe or a taxidermied snapping turtle or—”

“Well now you’re being obtuse on purpose,” Nessa says lightly, flipping a page and gripping a pen between two fingers. “It doesn’t matter what you get her, Elphaba, she just wants you to be her friend. Oh, Elphie, wait for me; Elphie, come have some of my lunch so you don’t get hungry, Elphie—”

“Alright,” Elphaba says, flicking at Nessarose’s pen with a grimace. “She doesn’t sound like that, now, really.”

“She sounds exactly like that,” Nessa replies cheerfully. “Oh, and guess what? Boq and I are making plans to meet up ever so much over Lurlinemas break, since his family is only a short carriage ride from Colwen Grounds; if you want to come with us we were going to have an outing in town one day, maybe when the carolers come around…”

It’s easy enough to let the cadence of Nessa’s voice tumble over her, the soft light of the winter dancing over her shoulders. Elphaba has a whole day ahead of her. When she leaves the library she’ll have to walk across the quad in the icy cold, and it will nip at her ears and eyelashes and leave her jaw all stiff with the power of it. When she gets back to her room— her and Galinda’s room, their room— she will have to stuff Ozmopolitan down deep in her desk and tell Galinda some white lie about office hours or a peer review session. The week ahead is long and busy, papers due and exams to sit for and then a dreadful day at the end of it, the day she’ll have to give Galinda something she already has.

Galinda would like anything you get her, Nessa had said, and it’s true, isn’t it? It really is true. But Elphaba can do better than anything, she can do better than perfume or a box of chocolates. Galinda has everything she wants already, doesn’t she?

There’s too much space left to cover and the time between now and finals and break and Lurlinemas and all of it, all of that long undetermined time, stretches out too. Elphaba sighs and, when she gets into her room, Galinda is waiting at her desk. She smiles.

On Wednesday it is the coldest day of the year so far. Elphaba resolves not to leave the room unless she absolutely has to— classes are over, after all, and she’s got no in-person exams today. She wakes up before Galinda, Galinda who is drooling onto her silk pillowcase and rolling into the sunlight with one bare foot sticking out from underneath her duvet. There is that affection again, and Elphaba swallows around it.

When she comes back from her shower, leaving the bathroom in a cloud of steam all dressed in her thickest sweater and drumming her fingers along her sleeve to warm them, Galinda is awake and beaming up at her from a nest of pink linens. “Good morning!” she trills, and flips her hair over one shoulder. “I had the most brilliant and enlightenified idea for what I could do today, only it won’t be as fun if you don’t help me.”

And then she stops and waits expectantly, cocking her head like a puppy and raising one blonde eyebrow. Elphaba blinks, waits, and then nods.

“Alright,” she agrees, “what is it?”

“So you’ll help, then?” Galinda asks, and Elphaba shuts her eyes and smiles.

“Yes, Galinda.”

“Good!” Galinda chirps, and bounces from her bed to slip on delicate moccasin slippers. “We should make Lurlinemas garlands, Elphie! One for the birds— you know, with cranberries and popcorn and nuts— and one just for us, little paper stars or tinsel. It’s festive, you know.”

The garlands are trickier than Elphaba had thought they’d be. Really she doesn’t much see the point; pricking her finger instead of the cranberries is quite the hassle, and they’re going to be leaving the room in a week or so regardless, but Galinda is determined and Elphaba is along for the ride. This is something about Galinda, something she’d never realized was a part of friendship until she’d gotten a friend of her very own. They want you along with them, want you to accompany them to return a library book or grab a second cupcake at dinner or hold your hand to keep it warm on the way to class. Galinda is always thinking of things like this, proposing walks past the Suicide Canal and late nights with a bottle of hard cider shared between the two of them. Time blocked out for togetherness, something Elphaba is unfamiliar with but willing to try for.

“We can hang this one between our beds,” Galinda murmurs, ripping a piece of tape with her teeth to fasten two chain links of paper together. “And the stars can go over the window, they’ll look so pretty in the light! Don’t you think, Elphie?”

Elphaba hums in agreement, adjusting the string to tug another piece of popcorn onto the sewing needle she’s got between pinched fingertips. Galinda is studying her again; she can feel those big brown eyes boring a hole into the sides of her cheeks and it’s making her heart beat faster, her teeth feel gritty and sweet.

She’s in love with Galinda, she knows this much. Elphaba is not stupid, she is not a fool, though maybe she’d started out that way. She’d never had a friend before this, let alone a best friend, a distinction Galinda likes to stress regularly. There are some things that are friendly feelings— wanting to know about Galinda’s life, for instance, and wanting her at lunch and in class and on walks to laugh and talk and be near. There are some things that are not as friendly, though— wanting to kiss her. Wanting to trace the arch of her nose and smooth her hand through that perfect golden hair. Wanting these sorts of things, to feel her touch and her praise and always needing more of Galinda like it’s an addiction, like it’s a compulsion she can’t break.

Galinda fixes everything. It’s quite hard to worry about silly things, finals and Lurlinemas presents and unrequited love, when she’s nearby.

“I know Lurlinemas isn’t your favorite time of year,” Galinda says quietly, and Elphaba hardly even registers where the words come from. She looks up, nearly pricking herself with the sewing needle, but Galinda is busy with a tumble of paper and scissors and string and she doesn’t look up, doesn’t say more until Elphaba looks away. “So I’m sorry if this is too much. But I thought, well, it might be nice for you to have better memories now. I don’t know what your Lurlinemases were like before but now you know me, and I’m not going anywhere. And I take these things very seriously.”

When Elphaba looks over this time Galinda meets her eyes with a little smile. She wrinkles her nose like a wink, shaking her head ever so slightly in pleasure. Elphaba’s stomach leaps.

“Part of the reason I worry about break is that I don’t always get along with my father,” Elphaba explains slowly, patiently, and Galinda sets down the paper she’s holding and turns her face towards Elphaba’s to listen fully and completely. It’s the same way she’d looked after the Ozdust, face open wide and ready to receive any drop of Elphaba’s past she’d been willing to share. “It’s a hard time of year for him— my mother died a month before Lurlinemas, he was very upset.”

Galinda doesn’t grovel or apologize, she just nods. Elphaba continues.

“So there’s that, he gets more agitated around the holidays. And now I’ll be seeing him for the first time since I started at Shiz; he has such a way of getting to me. I lose my temper, you know. He’ll say something that sets me off… about Nessa needing help, or even about the Animals or the Munchkins, sometimes. And when I get upset I can’t keep it in.”

“The magic?” Galinda asks in a hushed voice, scooting across her bed ever so slightly to be nearer to Elphaba.

“Not only that,” Elphaba says, considering. “Just… my temper. It’s like I hear something that makes me angry, something that’s unjust or unfair or just plain cruel and even if I want to let it go and not cause a scene I can’t. It’s like it just bubbles out of me. And I can’t control it.”

She chances a look at Galinda. She’s sitting there, blonde hair a cloud around her cheeks, brow all furrowed. “But you shouldn't have to keep quiet,” she murmurs, voice unsure like she’s convincing both Elphaba and herself. “If something’s wrong you should be able to say so.”

And oh, how can Elphaba help it if she wants Galinda beside her always? She’s so good like this, so willing and able to learn. Sometimes Galinda is quick to brush bad things away, to write them off as misunderstandings. When Elphaba pushes back, though, she listens. Elphaba thinks of the hesitant defense of Animal rights Galinda had given in class one day, the way her voice had trailed off at the end until Elphaba had beamed over at her. She tries, that is the thing about Galinda. She is always trying.

“I know,” Elphaba agrees with a little nod, just so that Galinda can know that she appreciates it. That she cares. “But sometimes I wish I could control my temper more.”

Galinda hums contemplatively. She’s quiet for a moment, all surrounded by paper stars, and Elphaba is almost sure the conversation is going to end there but then Galinda opens her mouth again. “I know what you mean,” she says, and then pauses. “Or. No, I don’t know what you mean, not exactly, but there are things I wish I could control that I can’t. Like when your hair goes flat one day. Or how I really wish I looked good in red but sometimes it washes out my skin.”

This, Elphaba thinks, is ridiculous. Galinda would look perfect in any color, in anything she put on. She almost says as much, but Galinda isn’t finished.

“Or like my magic,” she says, softer this time and picking up a paper star with a little cough as she says it. “So. You know.”

Elphaba hesitates, then opens her own mouth to reply, to say something. Galinda just looks at her.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she says, and Elphaba knows it means she’d prefer it if she didn’t. “I just mean, well, I guess I understand a little of what it feels like not to be able to change who you are. But I quite like who you are, Elphie. And after three weeks you can get mad about anything you want again! Just not me, please, I don’t think my heart could take it!”

And then she flops most dramatically backward onto her mountain of pillows, hand over her heart and eyes squeezed shut. After a moment she cracks open one eye, just to gauge Elphaba’s reaction, and muffles her smile at Elphaba’s affectionate little look.

“I couldn’t be mad at you,” Elphaba says, and tries to keep the rush of love she feels at bay. “But you should sit back up, you’re going to crush all the cranberries.”

Galinda sits up with a gasp and resumes her work, nimble fingers folding paper and stealing popcorn kernels to chew. Elphaba listens to her chatter on about snowfall and her final for Dillamond’s class and feels the semblance of an idea emerging. Maybe she doesn’t have everything, then, after all.

Elphaba plans it quite well. She’s all done with her finals by Friday morning but, of course, Galinda isn’t quite. She’s got one more paper to tackle, a whole day to do it, and a big pout on her face when she sees Elphaba getting dressed.

“But Elphie,” she protests, fiddling with the tip of her pen, bottom lip pulled down, “I could come with you! I’d still have all afternoon to work on the paper, that’s ever so long! You’re really going to shop all alone?”

“I won’t be gone long,” Elphaba says patiently. “Just to one shop for Nessa, that’s it, and then I’ll be back.”

“I’ll rot away up here,” Galinda huffs, flopping back in her chair and sliding down so that her chin rests on her chest. “Like a princess in a tower, Elphie. I’m not meant to stay at my desk all day and write, of all things. I should be out in the world!”

Elphaba adjusts her mouth to keep from smiling. “When you’re done we’ll go be out in the world,” she says. “We can take a walk in the snow later, if you want. I promise.”

Galinda brightens a bit, but still looks down at her papers with a sigh. “Alright,” she says wantonly. “I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to eat.”

She’s only half lying, Elphaba reasons as she sets off for town. She is going to shop for Nessa’s Lurlinemas present, a lovely knit sweater she’d seen in the window during her outing with Galinda the week before. She is not, of course, only going to one shop. There’s a second stop on her tour, the main stop, really. A tiny little magical shop, off the beaten path and rather pricey for Shiz students but Elphaba doesn’t mind, she’s got piles and piles of allowance saved up and she never spends it on anything, anyway. This is important.

Shiz is oddly empty. It’s still early morning, there are a handful of townspeople gathered in front of the bakery but no students in sight. So Elphaba works quickly, head down against the cold and walking with her threadbare gloves stuffed in her coat pockets.

She gets the sweater for Nessa and a lovely scarf for Dulcibear from the same shop, an impulsive purchase that she wraps around her neck for safekeeping and for protection against the frosty air. And then it’s Galinda’s turn, and Elphaba’s anxiety is mounting but she reminds herself that maybe it doesn’t matter so much, that maybe Galinda would be happy either way.

Still, though. Galinda deserves the best. Galinda, who always tries.

It’s cold enough that Elphaba’s jaw gets stiff and she can hardly find the time to fret about what she’s bought on account of the weather. Still, when she gets back from town Elphaba goes out for a long walk with Galinda while the sun sets around them, painting the snow blue and pink. She adjusts Galinda’s hat when it starts to slip off one side of her head and, face to face with her roommate, her heart gives a little stutter.

On Sunday morning, after breakfast and after Elphaba has packed up half of her suitcase, she turns to find Galinda staring at her rather owlishly, rather expectantly.

“Hello,” she says, with only the trace of a laugh in her voice. “Did you need something?”

“A bit,” Galinda says. She sounds almost nervous, which is positively absurd. Elphaba glances around the room— Galinda’s all packed and ready to leave in a few days, and she’s got Boq’s Lurlinemas present wrapped and set out on her desk for that afternoon. Elphaba blinks.

“What is it?” she asks, feeling a bit foolish because Galinda is just watching, she isn’t saying anything, and then she suddenly lets out a loud breath of air.

“I sort of made you something,” she says. “I know I’m not your Secret Lurline but, well.”

Elphaba blinks. She’s not thought of this and this hadn’t been a part of the plan. In her plans, Galinda gives Boq his silly handkerchief, and she gives Galinda her present and maybe Galinda likes it, maybe she doesn’t. And in her plans someone unknown gives Elphaba her present and that is all, that is it. Galinda, fidgeting with something behind her back, is not a part of this sequence of events.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” she says, and her voice sounds a little alien. Galinda meets her eyes and smiles softly, still a little tentative.

“I know,” she says, with a familiar cock to her head. “That’s what makes me so nice.”

Elphaba laughs. It seems to settle Galinda’s nerves because she bounces forward, sitting on Elphaba’s bed near the folded up blanket at the base and gestures for Elphaba to sit beside her. Elphaba complies, what else can she do?

From behind her back Galinda pulls out a book, big and blue and dusted with flowers and vines around the spine and the cover. She fidgets with it for a moment before dropping it in Elphaba’s lap and leaning away speedily. It’s so ridiculous, so very Galinda, that Elphaba can’t help but be charmed.

“Thank you, Galinda,” she hums, amused. “What is it?”

Galinda sighs, inclining her head like Elphhaba is being very silly indeed. “It’s a scrapbook,” she says. “Of our time here, see? My momsie used to make them for me when I was little, you’ll see when you come to Frottica. Galinda’s first day of twirling academy, Galinda’s first archery practice, Galinda’s first pair of high heels…”

Elphaba flips open the cover, stomach roiling with a rush of sensation. It’s nearly too much, it’s nearly overwhelming— the thought of going to Frottica, the thought of Galinda spending painstaking hours squirreling away memories for Elphaba’s sake, the thought of the thought of it.

Elphaba’s First Year of Shiz! the inside declares, and in small letters underneath it Galinda’s loopy handwriting is ensconced in hearts and stars and even a tiny Lurlinemas wreath. For Elphie, happy Lurlinemas! Love from Galinda

“There’s the note I made for you on our first day,” Galinda narrates uselessly once Elphaba has flipped to the first page. “See? It’s great, remember? And it is.”

“It so is,” Elphaba murmurs, and she feels Galinda light up beside her in the way she talks more steadily, voice rising in pitch and excitement.

“And here’s that photograph Fiyero took of Nessa and you, I bribed him to get it,” she explains, trailing a pale hand across the page. “And here’s the first History paper I ever got an A on, all because of you—”

“You cut that up?” Elphaba asks, face furrowed. “Galinda!”

“And there’s us,” Galinda says, smiling. She’s pointing to a tiny scrap of paper where she’s doodled the two of them, Elphaba in her pointy little hat.

There are pages and pages of it, of receipts from town and photographs and tiny trinkets, until suddenly there aren’t any more. One page goes blank, then the next. Elphaba looks up, puzzled.

“Those are for next semester,” Galinda says softly. “So you can fill it up yourself. Only if you want to, of course.”

Elphaba turns to face her. Galinda looks a little hesitant, sitting a few inches further from Elphaba than she normally did with her hands twisting and tugging at her socks.

“This the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” Elphaba says simply, and Galinda turns bright pink.

“Well Elphie, that’s sweet of you but you really don’t need to say such things, I’m only glad you weren’t too upset that I cut up my essay because I know you think it’s—”

“No, but Galinda,” Elphaba says, putting her hand on the blanket between the two of them. “I mean it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever… thank you.”

“Oh,” Galinda says quietly. She glances down to the green hand atop Elphaba’s plain blanket, stares at the length of her fingers and the curve of her wrist, and glances back up quickly with a familiar twist of a grin. “I’m glad.”

It’s all a little bit overwhelming. Elphaba finds that the world is very quiet for a moment, that she can tell just by the slant of the light and the feeling of her breath that it’s cold outside but here in front of Galinda she barely notices. She’s very aware of the tiny movements instead, of the way Galinda’s pinky twitches on the bedspread and draws itself closer to Elphaba’s, the way the edges of their hands press together and the way the feeling of it shoots through Elphaba like a shock. The scrapbook is heavy on her lap, the bed is starting to feel like a rock below her legs but she can’t move. Galinda is looking at her— no, she’s staring.

Elphaba can’t help it if her eyes flick down to Galinda’s lips. She’d watched her apply her favorite gloss for a full minute that morning, popping her lips together in the mirror and grazing over shimmery pinkness. She can almost smell it now, sweet like almond and cherry, and with her hand against Galinda’s they’re really quite close together.

This is the troubling thing about loving Galinda Upland, though she wouldn’t trade it for the world— Galinda is not shy, she is not timid. She likes what she likes and she makes those things known, and she likes Elphaba. Elphaba had been so caught off guard by it at first by the touching and close proximity, the jokes and compliments. She’s learned to settle her way in, mostly, but then there are times like this. She can’t help that Galinda’s lips look so kissable, that it’s chilly out and their room is ever so warm. She can’t help that Galinda’s hair looks like spun gold and she could reach out and touch, and it would be so easy, and then they’d both be leaning in…

But she only looks for a clock tick, just one. She remembers herself. This is Galinda she’s looking at and so she leans away and straightens up, folding the cover of the scrapbook closed and laying it delicately on her pillow. Galinda blinks, looks up at her. Is Elphaba imagining it or does she look a little pink? Her lips are still glossy but then so are her eyes, and her breaths seem shallow. Elphaba breathes in, then out, and straightens up.

“Should we go?” Elphaba says, clearing her throat. “Time for lunch and then presents, isn’t it?”

Galinda smiles but it wavers, her brow is furrowed and she’s still looking at the spot where Elphaba had been. She looks perfect in her sweater, in the skirt that she’ll inevitably complain about being too cold in. “Elphie?” she says quietly, “Were you… were you about to say something?”

“Nothing at all,” Elphaba says easily, and feels her stomach clench. Perfect sweet Galinda, Galinda who tries always and is thoughtful enough to make a present for no real reason, pretty Galinda lovely Galinda wonderful…

Galinda nods then as if she’s setting her mind straight and brushes her hands down her skirt. “Alright!” she chirps, and bounces up from the bed. “Lunch, then? I’ve got to fuel for my Boq exchange. What a travesty it is, Elphie, positively unheard of. An affront to Galinda-kind.”

“Tragic,” Elphaba says, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “Get your boots on.”

Elphaba finds it hard to focus on the gift exchange. It isn’t her fault, not really— she’s too busy thinking about before, about what things had been like in their room. The scrapbook is still there waiting, the way Galinda’s lips had twisted up. Fiyero receives his present and then Nessa, and Elphaba’s head is still floating away somewhere. She comes back, though, a moment later.

“And this one is for Galinda,” Nessa reads, lifting the long package that Elphaba had painstakingly wrapped up in pale pink paper. It suits her, she thinks; Galinda takes it with a smile that vibrates excitement, eyes bouncing delightedly around their little circle.

“It feels like something good,” she decides. “But what an odd size, you don’t get many boxes this shape. It’s not a bottle of wine, is it? Because last time I had wine I lost a shoe most entirely, and Elphie can attest to that. And it was a good one, too, lots of sparkles.”

“Just open it,” Fiyero groans, flopping back dramatically. Galinda rolls her eyes huffily, imitating Fiyero’s wrinkled nose for Elphaba’s benefit.

“I was going to!” she says, and then looks at Elphaba again. “Elphie, he’s being very mean to me.”

Elphaba gives Galinda an indulgent smile. “Open it," she hums, and tries not to let the nerves in her chest become overpowering.

Galinda sighs but she’s smiling as she rips the wrapping paper, using a fingernail to slice it open very delicately but still crumpling it as she tugs it off. It’s such a Galinda mannerism that Elphaba can’t help but be struck with endearment, an ache in her chest. And then there’s the box, stamped with the magic shop’s label, which Galinda opens carefully. And then, and then— the moment she sees what’s inside her eyes dart straight for Elphaba.

Elphaba almost forgets to second guess herself, then. This is the thing, after all is said and done: she’d torn her hair out over what to get Galinda, had driven herself to madness all so that it could be perfect for her. And now here they are, in the moment she’d been anticipating, and all she can do is sit and wait. She waits for Galinda to pay her attention, swims forward like a fish to a baited hook— she would do quite a lot of things, she knows, if it meant Galinda would pay her some attention.

And now she has all of that attention directed her way, big and glittering and tinged with the smell of the pine trees out in the courtyard and the outline of Lurlinemas tinsel. Galinda’s eyes are big and Elphaba remembers her glossy lips and swallows, hard.

“A magic wand?” Galinda says quietly, and smiles shakily. “Elphie…”

“It’s specially made for transformation spells,” Elphaba says, and she feels like her mouth is moving without her knowing it, like the words are slicing across the thickness of her throat. “Turning frocks into ballgowns, you know… that sort of thing.”

Galinda tugs it out of its box curiously, turning it over once and then twice in her hand and letting her fingertips trace over the detailing at the base. Fiyero mutters something about giving away the guessing part too quickly, but Nessa shushes him with a glare.

“It’s only,” Galinda starts, and her voice goes a bit quieter as she glances around unsurely, “well, I’m not very good at magic, am I? It’s beautiful, Elphie, and it’s just what I wanted— I’ve researched transformation wands before, and of course they’re good for more than just parlor tricks; vanishing spells, for instance— but oh, I only just managed to levitate that stupidified old coin, Morrible will never show me how to use it, and—”

Elphaba reaches out to touch the wand, to hold onto it right beside Galinda’s hand. Galinda pauses, taking a shaky breath as she glances down at Elphaba’s hand with a flush.

“Morrible isn’t going to help you, I am,” Elphaba tells her simply. “That’s part of the present, of course. We’ll figure it out together.”

Galinda is right beside her. She is dressed in white and her cheeks are pink again and oh, Elphaba adores her.

“Boq, you go next,” Fiyero says loudly, and so the moment shifts and merges into the next one. But Elphaba spares one last glance over to Galinda and goes a little breathless at the sight of it— Galinda is still looking, even though Boq is ripping up her gorgeous wrapping paper without a care. She’s still looking, legs tucked under herself and eyes wide and unblinking, fiddling with the wand and blowing a blonde curl out of her face. When she meets Elphaba’s gaze she smiles, tiny and soft, and cocks her head a little bit. Her dimple is on full display, her bare legs still sport proof of the cold, and Elphaba has no choice but to smile right back.

Galinda’s momsie has sent gingerbread, all wrapped up in a pink package with a sparkling bow. The bow gets glitter everywhere, all over their carpet and sprinkling onto the baseboards of the floor before Galinda can get it into her dainty little trash can. She offers the box to Elphaba hopefully that night and Elphaba has no choice but to accept— this is how it works.

“This is a little…” Elphaba says, trying in vain to take a bite of the cookie, feeling it snap under her teeth.

“Burnt?” Galinda supplies, face all scrunched with effort as she tries to break a piece off of her own cookie to pop into her mouth.

“Yes,” Elphaba says gratefully, and looks delicately away from Galinda as she tugs off her skirt and shuffles over to her dresser for a nightgown. The gingerbread sticks to her molars, chewy and crisp all at once.

“Well,” Galinda sighs diplomatically, taking a crunchy bite, “Momsie’s not a very good cook.”

Elphaba snorts once and deposits the cookie on her dresser, leaning down to the foot of her bed to tug forward her new quilt. Nessarose— her Secret Lurline, to even Galinda’s dismay— had sewed her a beautiful blanket, stripes of color and interspersed with geometric flowers, plaid and pink at the edges. It’s also quite warm. “Now your half of the room isn’t nearly as depressifying!” Galinda had said, and Elphaba is inclined to agree.

But they haven’t discussed the elephant in the room. Galinda has laid out the wand on her bed, still cushioned in its box, and she keeps stealing little glances in its direction.

“I only hope it isn’t freezing out tomorrow,” Galinda chatters that evening over the bathroom sink as she washes her face, glancing at the toothbrush hanging from Elphaba’s lips fondly. “I’ve been cooped up in this horrendible room for so long, working on these torturifying finals…”

“You love our room,” Elphaba reminds her, with a strange spark of defensiveness in her chest. It had felt so horrendible here way back when, before, in the days where Galinda would shoot charged glares at her from her bed, her vanity, her desk. Here it is today, though, and she wouldn't trade it for the world. Elphaba’s never loved a room so much in her life, she thinks pitifully, because in this room there is Galinda.

“You’re right,” Galinda amends, frowning. “I’m sorry, room, I didn’t mean it!”

Elphaba hums a little laugh, spitting toothpaste into the sink and passing a towel to Galinda just in time for her to wash the soap from her cheeks. They’ve gotten their nighttime routine down to an exact science, an art. Elphaba would find it rather romantic if she thought about it. Which, of course, she couldn’t afford to do.

It is true, though, Elphaba reasons while she pads across the room and slips between her sheets, listening to the tell-tale rustle of Galinda’s pillows— she does hope it’s warmer tomorrow. Maybe she’ll take Galinda on that walk, but she hopes it’s not too warm so that Galinda wears her little hat, so that her nose still turns pink. Is that too much to ask for? Elphaba’s eyes catch on the scrapbook on her bedside table and her stomach clenches, flutters, and lies as still as it can be.

“Elphie?” Galinda says softly, when the room is awash only in the faint pink glow of her lamp. Elphaba hums, feeling the chill emanating from the window where it’s frosted over. “I’m feeling rather cold.”

“Want me to get the spare blanket?” Elphaba asks, feeling quite confident that she knows what Galinda’s answer will be. She’s proven right when Galinda hums back at her sadly.

“No,” she sighs, “I just know that won’t help. It’s a more all encompassing kind of cold, you see, a bone chill. Oh, if only I had something to warm me up. Or,” and here she pauses, sighing again, “someone.”

Elphaba smiles into her pillow and breathes deep through her nose. “Galinda,” she says, and Galinda makes a little noise of acknowledgement. “Do you want me to come to your bed?”

A gasp of delight. “Oh, what a smartified idea! Why, I never would’ve thought of it myself. Yes, Elphie, I think I’d quite like that indeed.”

And so Elphaba stands up, wincing at the chill of the floor on her feet, and pads across the room to where Galinda’s opened up her blankets for her. She can see the outline of Galinda’s face and the shy smile on it, a smile that gets pressed against her arm as she wiggles her way under the blankets and lets Galinda rest her head against the crook of her shoulder as usual.

The lights are out but the moonlight falls against Galinda’s hair, shimmering like opal or pearl. Elphaba breathes in.

“Elphie?” Galinda says, and blinks up at Elphaba from her arm. “That was really sweet of you. Even if you had to lie to me.”

And Elphaba can hear the pout in her voice just as much as she can hear the teasing lilt of it. She laughs softly, because she can’t quite decide what she’s meant to say, and Galinda sighs contentedly.

“After all, I’m just ever so glad it was you. Anyone else would’ve gotten me something perfectly dreadful, stinky old perfume or…”

“I could’ve gotten something dreadful,” Elphaba mutters, retreating a bit further into the quilt. Galinda lifts up her head to adjust but when Elphaba’s settled she comes right back with a sigh. “I don’t… I know you already have a training wand, you don’t have to use the one I got but you said sometimes you wish that you could control your magic a little more? And I thought, well, we could try to work on it together.”

It is very quiet for a moment and Elphaba feels her chest clench anxiously. She’s shown her hand too soon, Galinda and everyone will know how she feels and people will laugh, they will remind her how silly it is for her, Elphaba, to dream of the prettiest girl in school. Galinda wouldn’t laugh, Galinda would never, but the pitying regret on her face would be worse somehow.

And then there is a little squeak from beside her, a squeal as Galinda slaps her palms flat on her mattress and beams. “This is what I mean, you’re so… Oz, Elphie!”

“Is that a bad thing?” Elphaba asks, half joking and half deadly serious. The squeak had sounded rather happy, all things considered, but—

“No,” Galinda replies decisively. “It is a positively wonderful thing. You really know how to make a girl feel special, Miss Thropp. How very romantic of you.”

These words hang in the balance rather precariously. It’s the sort of thing they will leave unspoken between them, the sort of thing that builds on the potentiality of their friendship. Elphaba’s never had a friend like Galinda before. And sure, she’d never had a friend before Galinda, period, but…

Well, it’s different with her, isn’t it? Different from Boq and Fiyero and Doctor Dillamond and even Pfannee and Shenshen, on a good day. With Galinda there are things like this, comments that leave Elphaba blushing and stuttering through her words, things that layer one on top of the other and leave her wondering.

Romantic, Galinda had said. Elphaba swallows.

Her hair is still there, Elphaba can see it all shimmery and soft. And her hand is just beside it, looped behind Galinda’s head and shoulders. She’s never done this before but, on a crazy sort of whim, she reaches out to touch.

It is as soft as it looks, this is Elphaba’s first thought. She starts with a quick trace of the ends of her hair, the bouncy middle, and finally up to the top. Galinda butts her head closer and hums when Elphaba’s fingers scratch at her scalp, sighing softly.

“Oh,” she murmurs, and nestles in closer— her legs twist across Elphaba’s and it sends a rush of warmth up her body that pools in her throat like hot tea. “Mm, that’s nice.”

Elphaba swallows and does not stop. Galinda called her romantic, Galinda was letting her touch her hair and she was liking it, Galinda loved her present. Her cheeks must be flushing.

“Well,” Elphaba says faintly, and presses her toes into the comforter hard so that she can feel them again, “I have faith in you, you know. Even if Morrible doesn’t. I know you think presents should mean something, and that’s… well, that’s what it means.”

Galinda goes quiet again and Elphaba’s mind drifts traitorously to pink lip gloss, to close proximity, to icy wind. She had almost kissed Galinda earlier, hadn’t she. She’d been going to kiss her. She, Elphaba.

“Something I always liked about you,” Galinda murmurs, so quiet that Elphaba knows it’ll be the last thing she says, “is how you always believe in everyone you meet. You make me better, you know.”

Elphaba can hear Galinda’s fancy alarm clock ticking, she can hear the shudder of a door out in the hall and the thwap of snow falling from the gables and hitting the ground outside. She runs cold and then warm. By the time she formulates an answer in her brain, by the time her heart is pumping again, Galinda is breathing soft and steady and dreaming, surely, of melted snow.

On the last day, Elphaba wakes up with a pit in her stomach. It’s always like this when she’s anticipating something dreadful, something like a bitterly silent ride back to Munchkinland and a tense greeting with its governor. Outside the window there is still that familiar sloshing of snow and she keeps her eyes shut an extra minute, listening and waiting and holding her breath.

Then there is a crash and a slam, a hushed curse and then an ominous stretch of silence. Elphaba finds herself smiling before she cracks an eye open, even, just at the thought of Galinda. This is something magical about her, the way she can command a room even when its sole occupant is fast asleep.

“Good morning, Galinda,” she says, and hears a little gasp in response.

“Oz, I knew that would wake you,” Galinda groans, and Elphaba sits up and tugs her glasses from the bedside table. Once the room is less blurry she finds that Galinda is looking at her wide eyed, that the crashing noise had been on account of a great number of perfumes and hand creams and lip scrubs clattering off Galinda’s vanity. She’s grimacing a bit, face all pinched with guilt.

“The tornado that came through here this morning? Yes,” Elphaba says teasingly, but Galinda’s eyes go wider and she bites at her lower lip. Elphaba watches, transfixed.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry! I was asleep but then I got too excited and simply couldn’t resist trying to practice with the wand you gave me— sorry, the most splendiferous and perfectified present in the history of all of Lurlinemas, I mean— but I didn’t want to turn the lights on, because you were sleeping, and then I slammed into the dresser and it knocked over a book, and then the book knocked over my best lotion and I was so distressified that I had to—”

“Galinda,” Elphaba says, and slips from the sheets into her slippers, which have somehow ended up strewn across the room, “it’s alright.”

And Galinda beams, and Elphaba, chest fluttering, takes stock of the scene in front of her. Galinda really is holding her new wand, weaving it between her fingers— above one, below the other, knotting her knuckles until they turn the palest of pinks.

“You’re using it,” she tacks on unnecessarily, soft and sounding embarrassingly unsure. Galinda blinks, brow furrowed, and her gaze flicks down to her hands.

“Well, of course I am,” she says huffily. “It is a perfectified present, I believe I mentioned. Now, are you going to help me like you promised?”

“Course I will,” Elphaba tells her. “But breakfast first?”

Breakfast turns long when Galinda drinks two heaping mugs of hot chocolate, insisting they stay indoors until she’s all warmed up, and before Elphaba knows it it’s nearly lunchtime. They’d gotten a late start anyway, and the days move quicker like melting ice during this time of year, all bright and reawakening. They can afford to move slowly, and besides, Elphaba thinks privately, it’s their last day. She needs to savor Galinda while she can, soak her up so that she’s full to the brim of her before it seeps out in those three miserable weeks back home.

It’s much warmer today, so much so that the snow turns slushy beneath Elphaba’s boots. Galinda seems to delight in it; she’s pressing the toes of her shoes into the ground and watching the puddles that get left behind fondly, beaming up at the dripping icicles along the wall of the cloister. The Suicide Canal is just a tumble down the hill but no one is out as far as Elphaba can see, so the grounds are very quiet. All she can hear is Galinda’s faint humming and the swish of ice water under her feet.

“If only I had my wand,” Galinda says thoughtfully as they cross a stretch of earth that, when it isn’t wintertime, looks quite a bit like a pebbled path. “I could transform this stupid snow into a field of wildflowers! Winter is so gruesome sometimes, I dare say I’m already sick of it.”

“It’s only just started,” Elphaba points out, and when she turns she finds Galinda grinning at her conspiratorially, eyes so sharp and cheeks so flushed that it nearly stops the muscles in her jaw from working. “You’ve, um… you’ve got a ways to go.”

“I know,” Galinda sighs, and throws her head back. “Anyway, I don’t think I could change the season even if I tried. You probably could, though. Actually no, you definitely could. Definitely definitely.”

Elphaba’s gaze flicks over to her again. They’re crossing through a little cluster of pine trees now, sloping down towards the bridge over the canal, and they scent the entirety of the air around them, sweet and a little prickly. “No one can change the whole season, probably not even Morrible,” she says dumbly, though she knows it isn’t what Galinda means. And true, Galinda smiles wryly.

“That isn't what I mean,” she says, and Elphaba could laugh. “But you know that already, Elphie.”

“I know,” Elphaba hums. On a hunch, on a whim, she takes her gloved hand out of the pocket of her coat and lets it drift in midair, hovering near her hip naturally and swinging as she steps over a stone all dusted with powder. And in an instant, just like she’d thought, Galinda’s hand is all twined around her own.

“It didn’t quite cooperate with me this morning,” Galinda says, injecting some levity into her voice that Elphaba knows she’s putting on. “Or perhaps it just really didn’t want to turn my comb pink! I only hope it changes its mind soon, you must have spent a fortune on it; I bet it’ll be disappointed to be handled by an underperforming sorceress.”

“But you’ve only tried it once,” Elphaba murmurs. “When I first started with Morrible I could hardly understand a word of her lectures, it just takes time.”

They’ve stopped over the arch of the bridge. The snow is lighter here, only a dusting on the stone of the ground, and Elphaba stops to listen. The river runs over the rocks all spindly, wind chimes in the frost, and the unnaturally warm air doesn’t sting as it goes down. Galinda is still holding her hand and she’s looking out over the water, over the trees and up the hill to Shiz itself. Elphaba imagines she can see their dorm room window, the garlands hanging outside for the birds and the faint glow of pink from Galinda’s curtains catching the sun.

And then Galinda looks her way again. Her brown eyes are very wide, hopeful in a way that Elphaba associates, most oddly, with herself. “Promise?” she says, and her pinky fidgets and grazes across the side of Elphaba’s hand. She swallows.

“Sit with me?”

“The ground’s all wet,” Galinda protests, giggling. “I’ll ruin my coat— Oz, Elphie, I’ll freeze!”

“No you won’t, silly,” Elphaba scoffs, and tugs on her hand. “Just, Galinda, just—”

They fall gracelessly, Galinda landing with a little oomph and Elphaba’s hand coming down to brace herself along the cobblestones. The ground is wet, it’s cold; still, there’s nowhere else to sit and Elphaba needs it to be like this, needs it quiet and still just for a moment, needs Galinda pressed up to her side.

Which she is, by the way, and she is giggling. “I’ve got ice everywhere,” she says, voice gliding happily over her words, and Elphaba can’t help but smile. When Galinda’s happy it’s hard for her not to be, it’s that simple, and she would cringe at the thought of it if it weren’t so genuine. Elphaba’s always been a little more tender than she likes to let on.

“Everywhere?” Elphaba asks, and when Galinda’s nose scrunches in confusion she flicks a fingerful of snow at her cheek. Galinda jumps, affronted, and then bursts into another fit of giggles unbidden.

“Elphaba Thropp, you didn’t! Oh, you terrible thing,” she laughs, and shivers dramatically, and slides closer. So, Elphaba decides, she’s won.

Quiet seems to come easily like this. Galinda shivers again, more honestly this time, and Elphaba slips an arm around her to rub at her upper arm. Galinda hums happily, tipping her head forward and nestling it in the space between Elphaba’s neck and shoulder.

“Better?” Elphaba whispers, and tries to steady her heart, which must be beating loud enough that Galinda can hear it. Galinda hums again.

“Much,” she says. “You always know just what to do, Elphie.”

Elphaba could stay like this forever, she thinks, if the cold water from the ground wasn’t seeping into her coat and socks and the strip of skin exposed above her ankles. Tomorrow Galinda will leave, tomorrow Elphaba and Nessa will leave, their room will sit empty and waiting for them to pick it back up again. Elphaba wants to walk her way into the bones of Shiz, to nestle herself inside it so that she doesn’t have to go. It wouldn’t be the same, though— she couldn’t take Galinda with her.

Galinda sighs, sniffles, and goes still. Elphaba can feel her pulse through the fabric of her coat and she wants to hold her closer.

“I promise,” she says, and knows Galinda will know what she means even though minutes have passed, time and more time. “I would never have given it to you if I didn’t think you could use it, Galinda. You’re going to get it.”

“I don’t know if I thanked you properly,” Galinda says into her shoulder after a moment. “I mean, Elphie, it really is just…”

“Yours is, too,” Elphaba says. “It’s ‘just…’ too. I’ve never gotten a present like that before.”

Galinda wiggles happily. “It’s because we know each other so well,” she says, and she sounds delighted by it. No one has ever been delighted to know Elphaba Thropp before. “It’s because we’re best friends, after all. And it’s because I am a genius at gift giving, don’t forget that part.”

“I could never,” Elphaba says, and laughs. She can practically sense Galinda’s smile, one of those tiny stretched out ones.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Galinda says abruptly. “And I’ll write to you? I can hardly be excited about break in these conditions, what with the not knowing!”

“Galinda, you do know,” Elphaba laughs again. “You already asked, I already said yes. Don’t you remember?”

“Well, of course, but I had to issue a reminder,” Galinda huffs. “It wouldn’t do to send you a letter in the form of an epic poem, or a ten page travelogue, and then have you be most bafflified by its arrival. And then when we returned to school you’d be too put off to even see me, and I’d have to switch rooms and live with Shenshen, and she snores, so I’d never get a wink of sleep and I’d show up everywhere with terrible bags under my eyes and—”

“I won’t be… bafflified,” Elphaba says. “I’ve come to expect it, you know.”

“Oh, thank Oz,” Galinda sighs most dramatically, and oh, how Elphaba loves her. “Elphie? Could I tell you a secret?”

“Mm,” Elphaba hums, and Galinda fidgets on her shoulder, hair sliding and smelling of spice and the scrunch of the snow under her legs slipping.

“I’m going to miss Nessa, and Fiyero, and Pfannee and Shenshen, and even Bi-Boq,” Galinda tells her in a very logical tone of voice, which is quite unnatural on her. “But I will miss you most of all. And it isn’t even close, really. Because you’re my favorite.”

She says it like a secret, whispering the last sentence, and Elphaba bites her lip. “You’re my favorite too,” she says, and wonders if Galinda knows just how much she means it.

“Oh, that’s good,” Galinda hums with another little wiggle, and picks her head up. Her face is much closer to Elphaba’s than she’d been expecting, eyes so wide and nose so pink and her dimple is out, her cheeks look as soft as her hair. “It would be ever so embarrassing if you didn’t agree. I’d have to dye my hair brown and change my name and move to Quox, probably.”

Elphaba snorts. “I don't think you’d make it as a brunette,” she says. Galinda hums.

“You’re probably right,” she sighs pitifully, “so I’d have to live a most depressifying life. Oh, by the by, I’m planning my first letter to you already! It might be rather long, maybe eleven or twelve pages.Want to hear the first line?”

“That would spoil it, wouldn’t it?” Elphaba asks, and Galinda pouts.

“You’re always right,” she says, “it’s quite annoying. Elphie?”

“Hm?”

“Let’s not go in just yet.”

Elphaba doesn’t reply, she doesn’t have to. She just nestles in further, lets Galinda’s head sink further into the crook of her neck and lets herself feel it, trying hard not to get too swept away by the smell of her hair and the softness of her skin and the feeling of Galinda pressed against her, of how much she wishes they could stay pressed up next to each other always and how warm it would be, how comforting, how safe.

The whole world is still and waiting, potential and thrumming with it. Elphaba can hear everything, the tinkling of ice on water and the faintest rustle of tree branches. Being in the woods in winter is such a specific feeling, the closest thing to true aloneness, something like being up in space with the constellations. Of course, being with Galinda is comfortable enough that she feels almost alone sometimes. Her coat is so soft, her breathing is so still.

“Elphie?”

“Yes?” Elphaba asks immediately, because she is devoted to Galinda, she is. Once upon a time she would’ve been loath to admit it but here she is, prepared to take off her coat if Galinda is cold, prepared to do anything she needs.

But Galinda just fidgets such that her head falls from Elphaba’s shoulder, so that her face comes back into view. One of her cheeks is pinker than the other, the one that’s been pressed against Elphaba’s own coat; she can see the indent of a button near Galinda’s chin and it’s so precious to see something lasting, a physical memory. It is real, that indent says, it really happened.

Her eyes are so big and they glance at Elphaba, at her nose and cheek and down, and is she looking at Elphaba’s lips? Is she? No, she can’t be, but…

It’s starting to feel like that moment in their bedroom again, charged and tense and Galinda feels very close now, doesn’t she? She’s still just sitting there looking and Elphaba’s stomach turns with it. Galinda’s eyes, so big and brown and beautiful, track her face.

“There’s something I want to do,” she murmurs. “But I… I’m worried.”

Elphaba feels her brow furrow before she can help it, watches with a flutter as Galinda’s eyes glance up to it and soften, as she moves ever so slightly in at the leg. “Why?” She asks, and Galinda lets out a shuddery sort of breath.

“I don’t want you to hate it,” she says, and it’s so soft and so quiet and simple that it wrenches at Elphaba’s veins, twists and turns and makes her feel close to explosion. She swallows.

“I don’t—”

Galinda’s blinking, Galinda’s breathing, Galinda’s skin at her nose and the color of her cheeks and the blonde baby hairs sticking up near her temple. All Galinda, everywhere.

“The other day,” Galinda whispers, “in our room, I thought you were going to—”

“I wouldn’t,” Elphaba interrupts, face hot, throat sticky. “Hate it, that is. I wouldn’t hate it.”

For a fraction of a second Galinda almost looks confused, a little dreamy and unfocused. It all shifts in an instant, though; her lips are still glossy from that morning though most of it has rubbed off, the sparkle is gone and now it’s just Galinda, just pink lips and cheeks and a little shiver starting low on her arms.

And then something passes over her face and one corner of her lips ticks up ever so slightly; Elphaba can tell that she’s biting the inside of her cheeks because she knows Galinda inside and out now, doesn’t she? And there’s the dimple, and oh—

Galinda leans in ever so slightly, looking up through her lashes. Her chin is jutting out surely, stubbornly, like she knows what she wants. It wavers ever so slightly at her lip and Elphaba is entranced. She can see Galinda’s breath and now she can feel it too, on the edges of her lips.

Galinda raises her eyebrows. It’s a challenge, and Elphaba’s always liked a challenge. Well? Are you going to? she seems to ask, and Elphaba will. She will, of course she will. This is how it all started with them, challenges for attention and that familiar buzz when Galinda would huff angrily at her. Now here she is, so close that Elphaba could bite.

She leans in. Galinda had dared her to, after all. She leans in and feels her nose scratchy with the cold, feels the bottom of her coat all wet from the slush, feels Galinda’s lips warm as embers in a fire. Galinda responds instantly, her face pressed against Elphaba's without hesitation and oh, Elphaba can’t be close enough. She looks, in this light, rather like an angel.

Her hands are gripping at Galinda’s sleeve before she can help it, pressing down hard into the fabric until she can feel the bone of Galinda’s arm, until she can run her hand up to her shoulder and her neck and hear Galinda inhale shakily. Galinda’s own hands are creeping onto her lap, seizing a knee and using it to push up closer into her, hot lips and hot cheeks and even her hair, warm like gold. Elphaba can hardly breathe and so she moves closer still.

She's never kissed anyone before but even if she had, it wouldn’t have been like this. There is nothing to focus on but Galinda, nothing else around her. If someone were to walk by now she doesn’t even think she’d be able to pull away; Galinda’s pulse rushes beneath her palm on a pale neck and then her tongue darts into Elphaba’s mouth and her knees go weak, her heart clenches, there is nothing else.

It isn’t a long kiss, all things considered. After a moment Galinda pulls back, pink and breathless, and Elphaba wants to protest. Why did you stop, she wants to ask, but instead she takes a deep sucking breath and stares.

Galinda is flushed still but she’s smiling, a little one low on her lips and secret. One of the smiles she saves just for Elphaba, the kind that come only when she’s tired or affectionate or reassuring or especially Galinda-ish. Elphaba doesn’t move her hand from that expanse of neck.

“Well,” Galinda says brightly, though it’s still very quiet, and she tosses her hair, “I didn’t think you’d do it, quite frankly. Good for you.”

Elphaba swallows. “What’s that supposed to mean,” she huffs, and it makes Galinda giggle.

“Oh, nothing,” she hums, twining a lock of hair around her finger and beaming, which betrays her despite the performed nonchalance. “I hoped, of course, after I gave you my incredibly thoughtful gift, that you might figure it out. But then you didn’t. And then during Secret Lurline I thought to myself, ‘Galinda, your Elphie wouldn’t buy just anyone such a wonderful gift, you must be incredibly special indeed!’ But then of course you would buy just anyone a lovely gift, that’s what makes you so lovely; still it did seem like you rather cared for me. And then—”

“You are special,” Elphaba says in a fit of confidence, and Galinda blinks. “It took me so long to find what to get you because it had to be perfect, of course.”

“Well,” Galinda says, and she’s blushing such a lovely color and she’s pleased, truly pleased in the way that makes her fidget with her hair and clothes and look away from Elphaba’s eyes stiffly, “well! You’re more charming than I thought, Miss Elphaba.”

A tumble of hair slips from behind her ear and Elphaba is reaching out to fix it before it even finishes falling, and then Galinda is tugging on her coat until they’re kissing again, harder this time.

“Maybe I could take you out to dinner when we’re back at Shiz,” Galinda tells her, speaking the words into her lips. “Elphie? How horrendible would it be if I extended that letter I was drafting to perhaps twenty pages? I need space to tell you about your beautifulocious lips, you understand.”

And, sitting in the snow on the bridge but feeling very warm indeed, Elphaba laughs and laughs.