Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts off as a joke. A little idea between friends after watching the two women go at it again during lunch. And then during their walk to the dorms. And then again during their night out together just before finals week. 

Truth is, they’re all sick and tired of having to text two separate group chats, of planning everything twice just to avoid a disaster. It used to be so easy. Two years ago, they were attached at the hip, always a we , never just Elphaba or Glinda . It was both, always both.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

No one saw it coming. There was no warning, no slow unraveling, just one day they were together, and the next, they weren’t. Suddenly, Elphaba stopped showing up to class. Her usual seat beside Glinda sat empty, untouched, like a wound that refused to heal.

Suddenly, Glinda, the always put-together, always pristine Glinda, traded her perfectly pink outfits for black turtlenecks and sweatpants, walking around campus with dark circles under her eyes and her nails bitten down to the quick.

Suddenly, they flinched at the mention of the other’s name, like hearing it aloud would somehow make it worse. Their friends would hesitate before speaking, second-guessing themselves in real-time. Can I bring this up? Will it start something?

And then it did.

The sadness curdled into something red-hot and unbearable. Into anger. Into resentment.

The stolen glances that used to hold so much tenderness turned into venomous glares. Quiet apologies that could have been whispered in the dark became heated, public arguments that left them shaking, their voices raw.

What was once a beautiful relationship turned into something ugly, twisted, and beyond repair. Enemies. Bitter exes. Whatever the hell you wanted to call it.

All anyone knew was that the second they were in close proximity, an argument was guaranteed. And it was never quiet.

Sometimes it’s about the answer to a quiz on a minor subject that none of them should really care about. Sometimes it’s over something as stupid as the color of the sky. “Pink,” Glinda would say. “Coral,” Elphaba would respond, just to spite her.

And Oz forbid Glinda let that go without a fight.

It’s childish. It’s so childish. Their friends don’t know if they should be annoyed or impressed by how dedicated they are to the bit, to never letting up, to always having to win. And yet, beneath the pettiness, beneath the exaggerated eye rolls and snarky remarks, there’s something else.

Something raw. Something that makes it so much worse. Because when they fight, when they get up in each other’s faces, voices sharp and unforgiving, there’s something desperate underneath it all. Like they don’t know how to talk to each other any other way anymore. Like they’re clinging to this because it’s the only thing left between them.

And maybe, just maybe, their friends are more tired of that than anything else.

That’s when darling Nessarose came up with her plan. She had recently seen The Parent Trap with Boq during one of their movie nights, choosing it after she noticed the way he practically glowed at the sight of the DVD. Halfway through the movie is when something in her clicks.

When everything falls into place in her mind and suddenly there is no one to stop her as she throws herself to her chair and wheels around in haste, grabbing her phone and a random notebook that belonged to her boyfriend. She had to do something. Anything. 

She can’t endure another semester watching her sister and Glinda give each other longing glances from across the quad before remembering they should be glaring. She didn’t want to hear another stupid argument over the difference between waffles and pancake batter. She’s had enough. 

“We’re doing this.” She says, determination in her voice as she begins scribbling in green ink. Boq blinks, having to pause the movie just when it’s about to get exciting. Sometimes he wonders how her mind works, but never really questions it. He loves it. 

“Doing what?” He asks for good measure, getting up from his bed and walking towards the desk where his girlfriend was currently writing, narrowing his eyes, “The Parent Trap… Glinda and Elphaba… You do realize they’re neither twelve-year-old twins who don’t know the other exists, nor were they ever married and had said twins?”

Nessa ignores him, shrugs her shoulders and scribbles onto the paper. “Obviously,” she huffed, “That just means we have to be creative.” 

Boq still wasn’t convinced, but then he thought about it. Really thought about it.

About how much of a mess Glinda had been post-breakup, how she’d stopped wearing her favorite pinks and started dressing in black like she was mourning something. About how miserable Elphaba had been, even though she’d never admit it. How she buried herself in work, how she looked like she hadn’t slept in months.

About how, no matter how much they claimed to hate each other, their eyes still searched for the other in every crowded room.

He sighed, rubbing his face. He couldn’t say no to her even if he tried. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… fine. I’m in.”

Nessarose smirked. “Good. Because we’re going to need a team.”

The first obvious member of this supposed team was none other than Fiyero Tigelaar. 

His eyebrows are knitted together as he listens to Nessa drone on and on about this supposed plan, his blue eyes twinkling under the stage light. They had caught him at a bad time, really, but the pair didn’t seem to mind. After all, who wouldn’t halt rehearsals if they saw Nessarose wheeling towards them with so much vigor?

“Wait, can I… Let me get this straight,” He raises his hands just enough to make them stop, leaning back against the audio equipment, “You want to parent trap them?”

It sounded ridiculous when said out loud, but he was not prepared for the younger Thropp’s fool proof plan. 

“Yes,” She nods, and Boq is nodding right there with her. Fiyero’s a little amused, a little scared, but most of all, very on board. 

He hums, scratches the stubble on his chin and smiles, extending his hand for them to shake, “I look forward to doing this with you. Although, I should refer you to a publicist.” 

“We already have people in mind.”

Enter: Pfannee and Shenshen. 

Some might say that aside from the very green woman that was Elphaba Thropp and the esteemed—although, very shrill—Glinda Upland, it’s these two that were most affected by the breakup. They were devastated. And until now nobody knows exactly why Pfannee fell to his knees when Glinda finally told them. 

They were overdramatic, yes, but they were also good at what they did. At controlling things when they get out of control. After a pretty offensive remark left Elphaba’s lips—she called Fiyero a Winkie in public after an argument with Glinda—they had been the one telling everyone that she did not mean it. That people had no right in judging her for a slip up when they have been whispering about her verdigris for years. 

They are just so good at what they do. And it would be a shame if they weren’t on their team. 

This time, Boq handles the talking, subtly sliding the notebook across the table like they were in some top secret mission. The library is quiet, save for some dwellers, and they had all the privacy they needed. 

Shenshen reads the contents of the page, all while Pfannee is negotiating with Boq. “How much are you willing to do just to get Glinda and Elphaba back together?”

That was all they needed to hear to agree. 

So, now they had a team, and they had a plan. 

It was easy. First, they make sure Pfannee influences the people making the cabin assignments, subtly sprinkling in the fact that it would just be so hilarious if Elphaba and Glinda shared a cabin. It was no surprise when he finished his job with ease. 

Next, Fiyero convinces Glinda to come join the trip while Nessa does the same to her sister. It is vital to the plan to let them know that the other will not be there. And that they should arrive an hour early to avoid traffic. 

“Come on! You should join us. It’s our last trip before our last year.” Nessa’s lips are set in a permanent pout as she follows her sister around the cluttered lab like a lost puppy. Not that there’s much space to do so. Elphaba’s work has taken over every available surface. “I’m not wasting my summer at some ridiculous camp when I could be making actual progress here.”

She doesn’t see the point. Yes, some rich donor is probably footing most of the expenses, yes, a break might be nice, and yes , she’s aware that her tendency to overwork is getting out of hand, but if she goes, she’ll ruin the trip for everyone. Their frustration with how she and Glinda act around each other isn’t lost on her.

Nessa sighs, switching tactics. “You’re always complaining about wanting some peace, but when I offer you a chance to get away…”

Elphaba narrows her eyes. “You’re acting like this is some kind of wellness retreat.”

“Because it is!” Nessa insists, voice saccharine sweet. Then, throwing in a last-ditch effort, she adds, “Please?”

Her sister hums, feeling something tug at her. She does need a break. But there are certain lines she refuses to cross. “…Is Glinda going?”

Nessa keeps her face neutral, practiced, utterly convincing. “No. She said she was too busy with work.”

Something inside her eases. She hates that it does. Hates how much of a relief it is that she won’t have to spend the whole trip pretending not to notice Glinda. Not to care. “Good,” she mutters, turning back to her notes. It’s not good. But that’s not the point.

Nessa barely stops herself from grinning. “So, you’ll go?” Elphaba exhales sharply. “…Fine.” She doesn’t see the victorious glint in her sister’s eye as she turns back to her work.

On the other end of campus, Fiyero is trailing behind Glinda, her drafting equipment being heaved on one shoulder while yet another designer bag hangs on the other. His hands were occupied by two cups of coffee, one that’s almost finished, the other untouched. Glinda might just be the slowest drinker in the entire world. 

“Glinda, please!” He yells overdramatically, unable to keep up with her pace even though he was almost a foot taller. Somehow, this woman walks faster in heels. Onlookers stare at them weirdly, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. He continues to follow her and beg. “It’s the last trip before you actually become all serious in that internship of yours! Choose me over your pencils!”

“I’m already sick of you.” She responds, with no ounce of malice in her tone. But she did cast him a slightly disgusted glance. Fiyero pouts, finally blocking her way to the library, the coffees in his hand felt awfully heavy suddenly. “Wouldn’t you want to see me in swim trunks?”

Glinda groans and rolls her eyes, pushing past him and entering the lobby to the library, Fiyero doesn’t let up, blocks her again before she reaches the elevators. She’s thinking about it, she obviously is. A getaway would be nice, free from her drafts, from her stress, from Elphaba. 

“Are you sure she’s not going?” she asks, raising a perfectly shaped brow. Fiyero doesn’t even hesitate. “Positive. She said she had research to do.” At that, Glinda hums, considering. Then, with a sigh, she crosses her arms and nods. “Fine. But if I see even a hint of her stupid green face, I’m leaving.”

She won’t. She’s sure of it. Fiyero grins, stepping away and handing her the iced coffee he had been so kind in buying her. “Enjoy the library, gorgeous. I shall text you the details!”

They’re going to hate them so much. 

For some reason, Nessa had insisted Elphaba arrive an hour early. Which was odd, considering she’d assumed they’d drive together. Until Boq, of all people, turned her down with some nonsense about a “special surprise” for Nessa on the way. Whatever that meant.

Not that Elphaba cared. If anything, she was glad to be left out of it.

Still, she couldn’t shake the twisting feeling in her gut, a quiet but persistent sense that something was off. Green hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel as she exhaled sharply, forcing the unease down. It was just nerves, probably. She’d wanted a break, hadn’t she? A little peace and quiet. And the fact that it was free only sweetened the deal.

She didn’t even register the familiar pink convertible parked right at the front, too caught up in her own thoughts. The old truck groaned as she climbed out, reaching into the bed to grab her bags before heading toward the entrance of the main lobby.

Something still felt wrong . Off . But she dismissed it.

The place was… nice. Too nice, actually. Suspiciously upscale for a university-funded retreat. But then again, this was Shiz, the most prestigious university in all of Oz. Of course, they’d spare no expense.

Inside, the lobby felt warm and inviting, all rustic elegance with exposed wooden beams, polished Quoxwood counters, and the rich scent of oak and summer thick in the air. It didn’t seem bad. In fact, if she ignored the nagging feeling in the back of her mind, it almost felt… good.

It’s clear that the receptionist was being paid good money to be there, with their polished uniform and bright smile, not even blinking at her verdigris. It felt nice, of course, not being looked down on or being so surprised that people like her existed. But the girl looked too young to even be working here. She doesn’t really mind, though, maybe it’s her summer job.

“I believe Shiz University rented this place out…?” She asks, not exactly knowing what to say to the girl, feeling her awkwardness consume her as she toyed with the strap of her duffel and the handle of her luggage. The brunette hums, nodding her head and opening up a tab on her computer, “Can I have your name, please?”

“Thropp. Elphaba Thropp.” She says it, maybe a bit too proudly. After all, her family name means something in this country. Political dynasties, sprawling businesses… Thropp is etched into history.

The receptionist—Dorothy, according to the badge on her uniform—gapes, eyes widening like she’s just solved a puzzle. “Wait… is your mother Melena Thropp? As in the Melena Thropp?”

Elphaba doesn’t shrink under the recognition. She might feel sheepish if she were ashamed of her mother, but she’s not . Melena isn’t perfect, Oz, no , but she’s always done her best. And that’s enough for Elphaba and Nessa. “Best lawyer in all of Oz,” she replies automatically, the words rolling off her tongue like second nature. She’s spent enough nights at her mother’s law firm to know it’s true.

“And your father’s the governor.”

“Stepfather,” she corrects quickly, scratching the back of her head. “My dad… he’s, uh, well—”

Oscar Diggs was one of her mother’s first clients. Her first husband. Until life got in the way. Too many late nights, too many missed dinners, too much time apart. The divorce was inevitable. But at least they handled it right . At least they still talk , still co-parent like it’s the easiest job in the world. Still love her, green skin and all.

Dorothy, now fumbling with the keys, lets out an impressed breath. “Shit. That’s so cool.”

A beat. Then she remembers she has a job to do, clearing her throat and shifting awkwardly as Elphaba waits, eyebrow arched. “You’re assigned to cabin six,” Dorothy says, placing the key on the counter. “You’re sharing with another girl.”

Elphaba nods, already reaching for the key, eager to dump her bags and rest after the long drive. But Dorothy isn’t done. “You’re lucky. The others had to share with way more people.”

That nagging feeling creeps back in, winding around her ribs.

“Maybe nobody wanted to sleep with the green thing ,” she deadpans. The brunette snorts. “Eh. You seem nice.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, your roommate just arrived, by the way.”

The nagging feeling sharpens.

Elphaba snatches the key before Dorothy can say another word.

She wasn’t wrong about this camp being over the top. The winding roads stretched across a massive plot of land, leading to a pristine lake lined with canoes and a private pier, because of course, there’s a private pier . She wouldn’t be surprised if this entire place was owned by one of Shiz’s obscenely wealthy alumni.

But none of that mattered when she finally spotted Cabin Six .

Relief flooded her, pushing aside the gnawing feeling in her gut. See? She was just tired . That’s all. Nothing sinister, nothing worth worrying about. Just exhaustion from the drive.

Out of courtesy, she knocked. There was a pause before the muffled sound of someone shuffling around inside, followed by a rushed, “Wait!”

Elphaba raised a brow. Great. A dramatic one.

Whoever was inside was taking their sweet time answering, but she didn’t mind.

Until she did.

Glinda had barely started unpacking when the knock came. She had just shot off a text to Fiyero —Just got here! The place is kinda cute, tbh.— when she remembered she did have a roommate. One roommate, to be exact. No way out of it, even if she begged. But honestly? This was a win. One person instead of five? She could deal with that.

And if this roommate happened to be hot and single? Well… she wouldn’t not take the shot.

“Wait!” she called, stumbling out of the bedroom, smoothing down her shorts and making a quick stop at the mirror. Just a peek. A little fluff to her ponytail. A little lip gloss… Perfect!

With a dazzling smile in place, she swung the door open, and immediately scowled.

That stupid green face.

The only green face in all of Shiz. Maybe even in all of Oz.

Elphaba stood there, duffel slung over her shoulder, looking just as horrified as she felt. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she spat before she could stop herself. The blonde’s jaw dropped at that. “You’re asking me?! This is my cabin!” she shot back, arms crossing tight over her chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Oh.

So that’s what the bad feeling in her gut was about.

Elphaba inhaled sharply, forcing her voice to level. “This is my cabin.” Glinda scoffed, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “You must be mistaken. Shoo.”

She was still fuming, still processing the absolute betrayal of Fiyero swearing up and down that Elphaba wouldn’t be here. And yet here she was, standing there like she belonged, like she wasn’t the absolute worst part of Glinda’s life. And Oz help her, but she couldn’t not notice the way the flannel on Elphaba’s shoulders stretched across her arms, the way she held her duffel so effortlessly like it weighed nothing.

But that didn’t matter.

What mattered was that this was her cabin, and Elphaba needed to leave. But as unbothered as ever, the green woman grabbed the doorknob, slotted her key into the lock, and turned. The click of it unlocking was simultaneously satisfying and infuriating .

“See?” she said flatly. “I’m not wrong.” Then she pushed the door open, stepped into Glinda’s space while towering over her, “Move.”

Her body does before her mind tells her not to. 

The cabin was big enough for two, obviously. Two beds pushed together in a single room, a small kitchen, and a shared bathroom. A fireplace. A couch. It was almost too much, almost too familiar. Almost like the suite they had their freshman year.

The one they shared before that happened.

Elphaba barely spares the room a glance before dropping her bags at the foot of the unoccupied bed. Her bed. Glinda’s, meanwhile, was sprawling with clothes draped over every available inch, a mess of athletic gear, swimsuits, and sundresses.

Sundresses.

The kind Glinda used to torment her about before they left for dates, just to watch her squirm.

Something tightens in Elphaba’s chest, a pang deep enough to make her hands clench. She ignores it. Instead, she kicks off her boots, flops onto the mattress, grabs the extra pillow… And screams into it.

From the doorway, Glinda hasn't moved an inch.

The door is closed now, but she’s still standing there, back rigid, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. The scent of Elphaba’s perfume lingers. It was familiar, intimate, a ghost of something long gone. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening.

She forces herself to ignore the scream. Forces herself to ignore the way her heart slams against her ribs.

She hates her.

Right?

It should be easy. She just has to ignore her. Maybe fight with her along the way. They’ve done it before. They do it all the time now. It’s easy . She’ll be fine.

And yet…

Her feet move before she can stop them. She hovers in the doorway of their bedroom, gaze falling on the girl lying across the bed. Elphaba’s braids spill over the white pillowcase, her limbs hanging off the edge like she barely fits. The pillow is still pressed against her face, but she isn’t screaming anymore.

She’s just… silent. And somehow, that’s worse.

Glinda crosses her arms. This is some kind of cruel joke. Someone planned this. Someone set them up. And the sickest part? There’s no way out.

So, she acts like nothing is happening.

Glinda turns on her heel, heading back to her bed, and resumes unpacking. Dresses go on hangers, shirts get folded and tucked neatly into one of the two closets. She works methodically, precisely, loudly.

Not on purpose, of course. Okay, maybe a little.

You’d think after a year they would have forgiven each other. That the hurt would have dulled by now, softened into something distant, something forgettable. But it hasn’t. It has nestled deep within their hearts, burrowed there like an open wound that refuses to scab over. And maybe it never will.

“Can’t you be any louder?” Elphaba grunts sarcastically, peeling the pillow off her face just to shoot Glinda a glare. The blonde doesn’t even flinch. She unzips her second suitcase with a sharp, exaggerated sigh. “I was trying to drown you out.”

Elphaba scoffs. “I wasn’t even doing anything.” She’s upright now, sitting on the edge of her bed, arms braced against her knees, looking thoroughly exasperated . Glinda giggles to herself. “You were breathing too loud.”

And of course she was. 

That’s the thing about Glinda, she knows exactly how to push Elphaba’s buttons. And Elphaba, no matter how much time passes, will always react. To her, it’s retaliation. It’s defense. To others—maybe even to Glinda—it’s just communication.

The only way she knows how.

With a sigh, she forces herself to focus on something else. She still hasn’t unpacked, which means mirroring Glinda is her only option. She unzips her duffel and, without a care in the world, tips the entire thing onto her bed.

Clothes, books, chargers, a single battered notebook, all of it spills out in a mess of fabric and paper. Glinda, watching this unfold, is horrified . Slightly disgusted, too.

It hasn’t changed. She hasn’t changed. Not in this way. She’s still chaotic, still aggravating, still completely and utterly her. There used to be fondness in watching Elphaba fix her own mess. Now, there’s just a dull ache.

“Can’t you just take them out of your bag like a normal person?” Glinda asks. Her voice is quiet. Tired. But Elphaba takes it differently. “Can’t you focus on your own things instead of meddling with mine?”

Glinda’s eyes flick downward to her own belongings. She hums under her breath, a habit she never quite lost. Her chest feels heavy. Like if she’s not careful, everything inside her will collapse at any second. “I was just trying to help,” she murmurs.

“I don’t want your help.” Elphaba doesn’t mean to say it like that. Doesn’t mean to let the words slip out like venom, doesn’t mean for them to sting. But she says it like that. It’s already done. “I can handle things on my own.”

The blonde exhales, slow and measured. “And we both know how that goes.” It’s quiet, almost an afterthought. Almost.

Elphaba clenches her jaw. She could fight her on this. She could snap back, turn this into another argument, another game of push and pull, but not today. Not now. She just swallows down the lump in her throat and forces herself to focus on her mess of a bed.

Still. She knew exactly what Glinda meant. And while it was warranted, Elphaba deserved it… It still hurt to hear.

“I’m going to murder you!” Under normal circumstances, hearing that in a secluded camp in the middle of nowhere would be alarming. But hearing it from Glinda Upland , her voice high-pitched with fury, her perfectly manicured finger already poised like a weapon?

Fiyero almost turned and ran for his life.

Unfortunately, his body betrayed him, freezing in place as Glinda stormed toward him. Her feet pounded against the dirt with enough force to send small clouds of dust into the air, the determination in her eyes frankly terrifying.

He barely had time to process before she jabbed a finger straight into his chest. Hard. 

“Ow! That hurt!”

“You traitor!” She hissed, her face mere inches from his, brown eyes blazing. “You told me she wouldn’t be here!”

Fiyero blinked. “She’s here already?” He turned toward Nessa, who, rather than step in to clarify. wheeled herself away at full speed . Suspicious. Glinda narrowed her eyes, filing that reaction away for later.

The man, still thoroughly confused, looked back at her. “Wait, she’s your roommate?”

Her response was a strangled noise, something between a groan and a whimper. “Yes, she’s here! In my cabin! Right next to my bed! And you set this up!”

A few other students were starting to look over, some pausing mid-conversation to take in the show. Not that Glinda cared. Fiyero, however, did. He glanced around awkwardly before stepping slightly to the side, lowering his voice. “I… I wouldn’t say I set this up. Or set anything up, really! I think it might’ve just been a coincidence.”

Glinda let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “A coincidence. Yeah, right.”

Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her whole body vibrating with frustration. The worst part? She knew, oh she he knew that he was lying. Or, at the very least, bending the truth so far it was practically snapping in half.

Fiyero wasn’t exactly good at lying. It was written all over his face. The way his gaze darted to the side, the slight twitch in his jaw. And if it wasn’t him, then… Her head snapped toward Nessa, who had been slowly inching her wheelchair farther and farther away from the situation, attempting to disappear into the background.

“Oh, you are so not off the hook for this,” Glinda muttered under her breath, vowing to circle back to that later. For now, though, she had a different idiot to deal with. “You told me she wasn’t coming,” she seethed, jabbing at Fiyero’s chest again for good measure.

He winced, rubbing the spot. “Technically, I told you I didn’t think she was coming.”

The blonde scowled. “Oh, shut up . ”

Fiyero sighed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Look, I promise I had nothing to do with the room assignments. That was all the camp coordinators. Total accident.” 

Glinda’s glare was unwavering. She didn’t believe him for a second. But she did know one thing. Someone had orchestrated this. And it’s not funny in the slightest bit. 

In Nessa’s shared cabin, Elphaba stood near the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest, exhaustion still clinging to her limbs. She had barely slept—how could she, when Glinda was both physically near and impossibly present in her mind? The air in the cabin was warmer than outside, but it did little to thaw the tension sitting heavy in her bones.

“She’s here.” Her voice cut through the quiet, sharp and certain.

Nessa, sitting by her bed, barely reacted. She hummed absentmindedly, like Elphaba had just mentioned the weather instead of the one person they both knew would send her spiraling. For a moment, she pretended she hadn’t heard her at all. But she had.

Elphaba narrowed her eyes. It’s not like her sister to be quiet when asked something. That is, until she’s guilty. “Are you going to answer me or not?”

When Nessa finally looked up, there was something guarded in her expression. “Listen,” she sighed, shifting slightly in her chair. “I didn’t know she was going to be here, okay? I would have told you.”

Liar.

The older Thropp stared at her, unblinking, as the weight of Nessa’s words settled in. “Where did you see her, anyway?” She asked, like she wasn’t already fully aware. Like she wasn’t the one who had whispered to Pfannee, who had made sure this exact situation unfolded.

Elphaba’s jaw tightened. “She’s my roommate,” she said, voice flat. Then, after a beat, she repeated, slower, more incredulous, “We share a fucking cabin together.”

The brunette swallowed. Then, after a beat, Elphaba speaks again, “Do you not realize how insane that is?”

Nessa exhaled, a little too casual, like she hadn’t just thrown gasoline on a burning fire. “Maybe you two were the last ones to sign up for the trip.” She said it so casually, like she knew, and her sister’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Oh, sure. Because the universe just happened to throw us together.”

She gave a small, one-shouldered shrug, but she didn’t meet her gaze. Then she shifted in her chair, the guilt in her eyes flickering for a split second before she masked it with forced indifference. “Stranger things have happened.”

Elphaba laughed. A short, humorless thing. “Right. And what, the universe just decided to be a bitch today?”

“Because, sure,” She adds dryly. “That makes perfect sense. You forced me to come here when I didn’t want to. You made me come here when I don’t even remember the last time you went on a school trip. And don’t even get me started on that special surprise your boyfriend was telling me… Oh, he’s involved too, isn’t he?”

She was practically crashing out that it almost made Nessa feel bad. But then again, she’s doing this whole thing for her. And their friends just so happen to be on board with this plan. “What do you want me to say?” She asks, a little exasperated. Then Elphaba snaps, leaning down as she keeps her eyes level with her sister, “I want you to tell me the truth.”

Silence. Nessa stays still, her gaze unwavering, but completely silent. And for her sister, that was enough.

Elphaba exhaled sharply and straightened up, running a hand over her face before shoving it into the pocket of her flannel. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, beginning to pace back and forth. 

This trip was supposed to be an escape—a break from the mess, from the endless cycle of overanalyzing her research, from thinking too damn much. But now, she is thinking more than ever. And worse, she was feeling.

One interaction. That’s all it took.

The way Glinda’s eyes had softened before she forced them into a glare. The moment they brushed against each other in the doorway. The sound of her voice, with the absence of malice and just the slightest bit tentative when she had offered to help.

She had offered to help. Oz…

Just the fact that she wanted to help. And the hurt that followed after Elphaba snapped at her was just too much. It’s too overwhelming. It makes her hurt in ways she didn’t think was possible. It makes her ache. 

Elphaba let out a short, bitter laugh, green eyes boring into the other girl’s head, her expression unreadable, but it was certainly not joyous. “You really don’t get it, do you?” She asks, any hint of frustration or anger now reduced to something else entirely. Something worse. 

Nessa couldn’t help herself, looking back at her sister with the same intense gaze, the same half smile, “What’s there to get? You loved each other. Maybe you still do.”

Elphaba froze. Her jaw clenched. Her stomach twisted. And for a moment she thought about how it felt to love Glinda. The soft, aching warmth of it. The unbearable, inescapable pull. The fact that being with her is magic itself. How being with her had made Elphaba better. 

But then she thought about how it felt to lose her. And just like that, the warmth turned to ice.

Elphaba exhaled, shaking her head as she took a step back, preparing herself to face the blonde again, “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” her feet drag across the wood, making their way to the door, “You don’t know shit about what happened.”

And then she leaves, eyes burning, heart pounding, stomach twisted in knots as she makes her way to the dining hall. She’s going to see Glinda, of course she is. And after that conversation with Nessa, after the realization that she’s stuck in this, she doesn’t know if she can bear it.

But she forces herself to go. She has to.

Glinda, for her part, doesn’t know how far she can push before Elphaba finally snaps. She enjoys getting under her skin, sure, but seeing her so wrecked when she walks through the doors makes her pause. The sharp remark she had ready dies on her tongue.

It’s bad enough that they have to share a cabin. It’s even worse that camp rules have paired them together for every single activity. The camp counselor talked about some forced bonding, a nightmare in the making. But they don’t complain.

They don’t have the energy to.

Fiyero, caught in the middle of this disaster, picks at his food in silence, avoiding both their eyes. Nessa doesn’t dare look at Elphaba either. Pfannee, Boq, and ShenShen, sensing the shift in the air, try to keep the conversation going. The effort is wasted. Every word falls flat.

When dinner ends, the group lingers, walking the two of them back to their cabin. No one says it outright, but the weight of their gazes is clear. They’re watching, waiting, hoping this won’t turn into a full-blown war. It doesn’t.

And then the door closes, and it’s just them.

The sick thing about it is that their bodies move on autopilot. Their routines haven’t changed much, and somehow, they know.

Glinda showers first while Elphaba works out, the soft grunts while she does her push-ups filling the silence. Then they switch, Elphaba taking the bathroom while Glinda sits in front of the mirror, carefully working through her hair and skincare routine. By the time she’s done, so is the green woman.

The only difference is that now, they don’t share a bed.

Glinda hesitates for just a second before reaching for the lamp, flicking it off out of habit. She doesn’t like sleeping in the dark, but Elphaba does. That much hasn’t changed.

The room is silent for a beat before the blonde exhales, voice soft but teasing. “Try not to snore too loudly.”

From the other bed, Elphaba lets out a quiet, dry chuckle. “Try not to wake me up with your obnoxious morning routine.”

The silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating. It’s not like it used to be, back when they could lie in bed for hours, whispering in the dark, when Elphaba would grumble about Glinda's endless rambling but never actually tell her to stop.

Now, the silence is different. Heavy.

Glinda shifts under her covers, hugging the pillow a little tighter. It still smells like camp detergent, but if she turns her head just a fraction to the left, she would smell Elphaba. Who smells like lavender and coffee, like old books and her perfume, something that always felt safe.

Elphaba turns onto her side, facing away from her. Like that’ll help. It’s pointless. Glinda’s presence is a brand against her skin, an ache in her ribs. Every breath, every soft exhale, every shift of the blankets, she notices all of it.

And then, from the other bed comes a sigh. A long, deep one. Which should be easy to ignore. They’ve spent a year pretending they didn’t care about the other. But something about the weight of it tugs at her. “You okay?” The words slip out before she can stop them.

Glinda stiffens. It’s ridiculous. She was literally just planning to ask Elphaba the same thing. So in response, she says “I’m fine,” maybe a little too quickly. That receives a dry chuckle from the raven haired girl, “Yeah, sure.”

That’s when she huffs, rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling. The words sit on the tip of her tongue. The questions that haunted her at night, or when she gets too close to Elphaba’s face during an argument… 

“Do you ever think about me? About us?”

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

“Why didn’t you let me help?”

But she swallows them down, pressing her lips together. Instead, she settles for something safer, something small. “…Your bed looks uncomfortable,” she murmurs, suddenly feeling a lump in her own mattress. Elphaba snorts. “It’s a camp bed. Your bed isn’t much better.”

There’s a pause. And then, “…It used to be.”

The mattress she had begged her mothers to buy her, the sheets they had picked out after a trip to the Emerald City, the silk pillowcases that she got the woman on the other bed so her hair wouldn’t get all messed up…

She doesn’t say what she means. She doesn’t have to.

Elphaba’s fingers curl into the edge of the blanket, squeezing tight. She could say something cruel, something to shut this conversation down before it goes any further. That would be easier. But she’s so tired. So instead, she just breathes out softly.

“Yeah,” she admits. “It used to be.” They were now on dangerous territory, so close to crossing a line they shouldn’t. They hate each other now, and both of them don't think it will change anytime soon. 

But as Glinda’s eyes slip shut, sleep finally consuming her, she yawns and turns to the other girl, a small smile plastered on her lips, “Goodnight, Elphaba.”

This time, the words are barely there, like she’s afraid saying them will break something between them. She hesitates, then closes her own eyes. “Goodnight, Glinda.”

In the darkness, both could only hope tomorrow would be better. 

Chapter Text

Tomorrow? Yeah, not better for them.

And the reason? Glinda Upland is a menace. Like, in the most obnoxious way you can imagine.

Because the second she wakes up, well-rested and with her walls reinforced, she remembers. She remembers the way Elphaba’s voice softened last night, the way they slipped into something comfortable, the way it almost felt familiar. And she hates it.

It makes her feel weak. Like she almost let her guard down. So she does what she does best. She retaliates.

The whirring sound of the hairdryer tears through the cabin like a buzzsaw, loud enough to wake the dead, or, more importantly, loud enough to wake Elphaba.

From the other bed, there’s a sharp inhale, a groggy groan, then her voice, now an octave lower after sleeping, fills her side of the room,  “What the fuck?”

Elphaba shifts under the blanket, her movements sluggish with sleep as she rubs at her face. Her green limbs stretch, fingers tangling in her messy braids, before she finally forces her eyes open. And then she sees her.

Glinda, already dressed, seated at the vanity, curling the ends of her hair with a round brush. Her silk pajamas have been swapped for a sleeveless pink top and a skirt so obscenely short that Elphaba’s tired, unguarded brain short-circuits for a moment.

Her gaze catches on the curve of Glinda’s thigh, lingers for just a second too long before she scowls. Focus.

Then she groans again, rolling onto her stomach in a weak attempt to escape the noise. It’s too early for this. But the blonde knows exactly what she’s doing. She flips her hair dramatically, lets out an exaggerated hum, and flicks the dryer to the highest setting.

That’s what does it. And Elphaba snaps. She kicks the blanket off and stomps to the vanity, eyes blazing. Without hesitation, she yanks the cord from the wall, and the machine dies in an instant. At that, the younger of the two gasps, whipping around in her chair. “What the hell is your problem?!”

“What the hell is yours?!” Elphaba fires back, still gripping the unplugged cord like it personally offended her. Honestly? It has. In response to her aggressiveness towards the appliance, her roommate glares, indignant. “It’s not my fault you can’t wake up early.”

Elphaba scoffs, clenching her jaw and gripping the cord tighter, “It’s—” She stops, blinks at the digital clock on the nightstand, then squints because Oz, she really is blind without her glasses. Then she sees the time. And her nostrils flare.

“It’s six in the morning.”

The words come out slow, deliberate, like she’s trying to restrain herself. But her eyes flicker back to Glinda, and suddenly, that restraint is gone. “Glinda, it’s six in the fucking morning! We don’t have to be out until eight!”

Glinda just smiles, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Smug. Elphaba’s buttons are pushed and the rest of the camp isn’t even awake yet. This might be a new record. “You should thank me when we get there on time.” She says so sweetly, so innocently that Elphaba had to exhale sharply, gripping the bridge of her nose like she’s summoning every ounce of patience in her body.

When she felt like she could function without strangling herself with the cord, she finally drops it then turns away. And then, with all the grace of a sleep-deprived woman on the verge of committing murder, she snatches her towel and a fresh set of clothes.

“Fine.” Her voice is clipped, tight, simmering. A yawn threatens to leave her lips, “But if you so much as breathe near me before I get caffeine, I swear—”

Glinda waves her off, already used to her antics. She hasn’t changed, at least, not much. Because back then there was less screaming and more clinginess from her. She bites her lip at the thought, shaking her head to get rid of it. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She responds absentmindedly. 

Elphaba mutters something vulgar under her breath as she disappears into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

And Glinda? Well, she just grins to herself, fluffing her hair in the mirror. This morning was perfect already.

They were the first ones to make it to breakfast.

So early, in fact, that the kitchen staff had barely set everything out. Steam still curled off their plates, the eggs fresh, the hash browns crisp, and miraculously, the coffee wasn’t watered down. It actually tasted like something that could wake a person up instead of dragging them further into exhaustion.

Elphaba stared at hers for a long moment, stirring it absently, the bitterness lingering on her tongue. She didn’t even like mornings. So why was she here?

Why had she let Glinda drag her out of bed when she could have waited until a reasonable hour? Why was she sitting across from her now, silently eating breakfast like this was just another morning, like nothing between them was different?

It felt unsettlingly familiar.

Like the early days at Shiz, when they had first started sitting together in the dining hall. Before either of them really knew what to say, before the teasing and the tension, when they were just two awkward girls, tiptoeing around each other.

Back then, it had been shyness keeping them quiet. Now? Now, it was everything else. And yet, despite all of that, despite the fight, despite the resentment still simmering under her skin, Elphaba nearly smiles.

It almost felt nice. Almost.

“Can I have your apple—”

“You can have my apple—”

Their voices overlapped. Glinda froze mid-reach, pink dusting her cheeks as her eyes snapped up to meet Elphaba’s. Not in a challenge. Not with some smug, pointed stare. She just… looked.

Like she was seeing her for the first time in a long time.

Elphaba swallowed, something catching in her throat. Because it hit her, then.

Glinda hadn’t even noticed she was offering before she asked. Hadn’t expected Elphaba to remember how she liked to start her mornings. But she did. Of course, she did.

Without thinking, Elphaba plucked the apple off her tray, placed it neatly onto Glinda’s. Her hand hovered for just a second longer before shifting toward her coffee. “Can I…?” she asked, nodding to it.

Glinda blinked, took a second too long to respond. “Yeah. I prefer—” But before she could even finish, Elphaba was already pushing out of her seat, heading toward the drink station without another word.

She sat frozen, lips still parted, watching as the green woman reached for a glass, filled it with ice, poured in oat milk, then added a shot of espresso. And when she returned, she set the cup in front of Glinda without ceremony. “You like your coffee iced,” Elphaba murmured. “I know.”

And just like that, the silence settled. Not the sharp, tense silence they had perfected over the past year. But something heavier and something softer at the same time.

Like all the walls they had spent months fortifying had just crumbled in the space between them, brick by brick, undone by something as simple as food. And neither of them had the energy to build them back up.

Not now. So they let it happen. Because they were just tired. The loathing could return later once the caffeine kicks in. 

And besides… They had to bond. It was part of the whole experience, after all.

Boq had to do a double take before stepping into the dining hall, rubbing his eyes like he wasn’t fully awake yet. Because, seriously… Was that actually Glinda and Elphaba? Sitting together? Eating together? Without attempting to stab each other with their plastic forks?

“Oh my Oz…” Fiyero whispered, practically vibrating behind him. He blocked Nessa’s view entirely, forcing someone to push the door open a little wider so she could peek through. Honestly? It looked a little stalkerish. Five people, crowded at the entrance, silently watching two people eat? Creepy.

So Pfannee took it upon himself to walk in first, casual as anything, acting like he wasn’t giddy that their plan was already working. At least… he thought it was.

“Good morning, ladies!” he greeted, a little too enthusiastically, sliding into the empty seat beside Glinda. The blonde smiled, letting him pull her into a quick side-hug as the rest of their friends finally filed in.

Nessa took the open spot next to Elphaba, exchanging a small, relieved smile with her sister. Good. They were good. She couldn’t handle another day of this trip with Elphaba mad at her. And just like that, the table felt… Normal again.

Their chatter picked up, lively and easy, like they were back in the old days, when there weren’t two separate group chats, when Elphaba and Glinda didn’t orbit each other with this constant undercurrent of something between them.

And, most shocking of all? Neither of them had stormed off yet.

“They’re taking our phones after assembly, by the way,” Boq said casually, midway through a bite of toast. The reaction was immediate. Glinda and ShenShen both shot him the same horrified look.

Boq lifted his hands in surrender. “I brought a camera, though! You don’t have to worry—I’m documenting everything.” That seemed to soothe them, at least enough that the conversation naturally shifted again.

It wasn’t long before Fiyero, ever the instigator, leaned forward and asked, “So… How was your first night as roommates? Sleep well? No attempted murder?”

Elphaba scoffed into her coffee, eyes flicking to Glinda’s across the table. Her gaze was unreadable, but… there was no edge to it. No sharpness. Just something softer. Something amused. Something dangerously close to fond. “She woke me up at six,” She muttered, deadpan.

Glinda just hummed, the corners of her mouth curling up like she was holding back a full-on smirk. “And you got fresh coffee, didn’t you? I deserve a thank you.”

The entire table went silent.

Everyone’s attention snapped back to Elphaba, waiting, waiting, because this was the moment she could say it. She could extend the olive branch, just a little. But she didn’t. Instead, she huffed out a dry chuckle, pushed back her tray, and stood.

“Nice try, Upland,” she said smoothly. “I’ll see you all at the assembly.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Glinda watched her walk away, absently running a fingertip along the rim of her cup. And, weirdly enough… That was enough.

The morning haze hadn’t even fully lifted when they were hauled to the open campgrounds, university students of all majors filling the space. The air was crisp, buzzing with excitement from those who actually wanted to be here. Elphaba, notably, not among them. She had planted herself in the front row, scowling, arms crossed so tightly it was like she was holding herself together by force.

Naturally, their friends wasted no time making sure Glinda ended up right beside her. Not that either of them noticed, at least, not until the camp counselor announced the day’s agenda.

“Today, we’ll be kicking things off with an obstacle course and a trust fall exercise! So I sure hope you all trust your cabinmates!” Elphaba’s entire body locked up. Her eyes widened, her jaw went slack, and for a moment, it was as if the entire world had stopped turning.

“Fuck!”

The single, hushed word carried just enough horror that Glinda, equally horrified, snapped her gaze toward her. Then, as if realizing it at the same time, she crushed Fiyero’s hand in a death grip.

"Ow, ow, ow! Glinda!" Fiyero whined, dramatically prying his fingers from her grasp before clutching onto Boq for support. She barely noticed, her stomach plummeting as her brain slowly processed the situation.

She was going to have to fall backwards, on purpose, and trust that Elphaba of all people would catch her.

Meanwhile, Fiyero had already bounced back, grinning as he slung an arm around Boq’s shoulder. “Thank Oz you’re my partner,” he exhaled, shooting a look toward Avaric and Chuffrey. “You think we can beat them?”

Boq hummed, thoughtful, though his gaze had already wandered back toward the real spectacle… The unmistakable tension brewing between Elphaba and Glinda. “You think they can beat us?” Boq murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Glinda heard him. And she didn’t appreciate it. “We can hear you, y’know?” she snapped, her glare sharp before turning to the true source of her problems. With all the disgust she could muster, she exhaled sharply. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you. You’re insufferable.”

Elphaba scoffed, arms crossing over her chest as she met Glinda’s glare with one of her own. “Right. Because you’re such a dear to be around.”

Pfannee leaned over to Shenshen, voice low but filled with amusement. “I give them twenty minutes before they start throwing things.” Shenshen, barely suppressing a laugh, shook her head. “Oh, please. They’re being nice right now.”

The counselor clapped their hands together, signaling the official start of the activities. Elphaba groaned, rubbing a hand over her face like she was already regretting every choice that had led her to this moment.

She exhaled sharply, casting Glinda a sidelong glance, her voice lower now, almost serious. “Just don’t drop me.”

Glinda tilted her head, her lips twitching like she was weighing the possibility. “No promises, artichoke.”

The campers were split into their cabin groups, and somehow, Elphaba and Glinda found themselves both mortified and relieved that their friends would be there to witness this disaster. At the very least, if Glinda did decide to let Elphaba crash to the ground, there would be plenty of eyewitnesses to direct the police straight to her.

Their counselor was too chirpy. Too lively. It made Elphaba’s head ache.

“Before we start this exercise, we’re going to need an icebreaker!” She announced, far too giddy for the tension that had settled between the two girls. Did she not notice the intense staring contest happening right in front of her? Could she not read the room?

The counselor clapped her hands together, oblivious. “We’ll be going around in a circle and playing Two Truths, One Lie. Then, we have to introduce our partners to the rest of the campers!”

If Elphaba had been mortified before, this was something far worse. Glinda could barely register the words before she turned on her heel, marching to the back of the clearing, grabbing a pebble, and chucking it against a distant tree with force.

Fiyero, half impressed, half concerned, leaned toward Boq. “That was kind of aggressive, right?”

Boq just hummed, watching Glinda as she clenched her fists, clearly fighting the urge to throw more. Elphaba, meanwhile, was entirely unbothered. If anything, she was amused.

This couldn’t possibly be the perfect, polished Glinda Upland, could it? This couldn’t be the girl who always had perfect hair and smiled like she hadn’t a single care in the world.

She chuckled to herself before calling out, “Hey!” She waved a hand lazily in Glinda’s direction, smirking as the circle began to form. “Don’t want you to miss out on all the fun.”

Glinda turned, eyes narrowed, but ultimately sighed and stomped her way back, plopping onto the log beside Elphaba like it physically pained her. “None of this is fun,” she muttered, arms crossed. “We’ve known each other for years. That takes all the fun out of the game.”

Somehow, the reminder of them knowing the other doesn’t pain them, rather, it makes Elphaba feel alive. 

Elphaba hummed, leaning in slightly, voice lower. “No, that’s perfect.”

The other girl blinked, confused. “What?”

Green lips form a smirk, growing by the second,  “It means we’re asserting dominance. We’re winning.”

If there was one thing they could still agree on, even after the breakup, it was that neither of them could stand losing. Which, unfortunately, meant they had to swallow their pride. That every attempt at pretending they didn’t know each other had to be erased, even if it made their skin itch.

“Fine.” Glinda whispered, the scowl still etched on her face, but her tone was softer. Resigned.

It was almost hysterical watching the rest of the campers fumble through their turns. Excruciating, really, watching ShenShen fail so spectacularly at guessing facts about her bunkmate, her closest friend in their six-person cabin.

Boq and Fiyero, meanwhile, seemed so pleased with themselves, until someone pointed out that all of Fiyero’s statements were true, which got them disqualified. By the time it was Elphaba and Glinda’s turn, the entire group had gone quiet. All eyes were on them, waiting for something, waiting for them to burst, to fight, to give everyone the drama they had clearly been expecting.

Glinda took a breath and went first, the challenge already sparkling in her eyes. “Alright… I’ve never had detention, I know how to ride a motorcycle, and I have exactly five pairs of sneakers.”

Elphaba snorted. She didn’t even have to think about it. She straightened, tilting her head slightly, voice dry as ever. “You can’t ride a motorcycle.”

The girl gasped in response, immediately offended. “And how do you know that?”

Elphaba turned to her fully, unfazed. “Because I was the one who tried to teach you. You fell off twice, you still have the scratch on your knee. And I think you broke part of the brakes, but you never figured out how.”

The way she said it with precision made Glinda feel warm. Too warm. She could feel the eyes on her, could feel Elphaba close, could feel the weight of her words settle deep in her chest.

She wanted to vomit.

Elphaba could see it. Glinda’s sudden stillness, the way her fingers curled slightly against her knee, like she was trying to ground herself. Like the weight of the moment had actually settled on her.

For a split second, Elphaba felt something dangerously close to guilt.

She hadn’t meant to do that. Hadn’t meant to press quite so hard. But it was second nature, teasing Glinda like this, calling her out, knowing exactly how to read her. She’d always known how to do that. Still did, apparently.

So, instead of letting the silence stretch, instead of letting the moment linger, Elphaba did what she always did, she gave them both an out. She shifted her weight, cleared her throat. “My turn.”

And just like that, the focus shifted. Glinda blinked, snapping back into herself. Elphaba felt the tension ease, just a fraction.

Good.

She wasn’t trying to make this harder than it already was.

Then, she thought for a moment, carefully picking something only Glinda would know. “I ate a Lego brick as a child, I’ve read every book in the Shiz library, and I don’t like chocolate.”

A few campers immediately protested, saying they all had to be lies.

But Glinda? She smirked. 

“You’re a liar because you like chocolate. The bitter dark ones that none of us could stomach.” She crossed her arms, leaning back, completely sure of herself, almost gagging at the thought of said chocolates. “But the first one is also wrong. Not because it didn’t happen, but because it wasn’t a Lego brick—it was the head of a minifigure. The Spider-Man one.”

Silence. They were met with complete silence. 

Until someone in the group whispered, “Holy shit.”

Elphaba just stared at her. Glinda met her gaze, smug. There were no official points in this game. But they were definitely winning.

Silence settled between them as they listened to the remainder of the circle, only speaking when calling out blatant lies. Elphaba had to intervene when Nessa tried to cheat, earning both sisters a half-hearted warning, one they promptly ignored, giggling like kids caught whispering in class.

It had gone the same for the introductions. They remained quiet, offering only what they already knew about each other. They didn’t have to ask, and didn't have to fill in any gaps. They both refused the idea of it.

Because filling in the gaps would mean acknowledging the reality of it all. Of how the other was living a completely separate life now, without them in the picture. The weight of that truth sat between them like an immovable object.

When it was finally their turn, Elphaba took a slow, measured breath before standing. She shoved her hands into her pockets, shoulders squared as if to brace herself. And then, suddenly, Glinda wasn’t her insufferable cabinmate anymore. She wasn’t the girl who woke her up at six in the morning just to be petty.

She was Glinda. The girl Elphaba had memorized, even when she hadn’t meant to. The girl she lo—

“My partner is Glinda Arduenna Upland,” Elphaba started, voice steady but careful, like she was stepping onto thin ice. She probably was. “Named after the saint, though she’ll deny it because she doesn’t like it when people call her perfect.”

That earned a small reaction, a flicker of Glinda’s eyes, a minuscule shift in her posture. Elphaba ignored it, pressing on.

“She was born in Frottica, grew up in the Upper Uplands, and has spent most of her life pretending that doesn’t make her a princess.”  A beat. Notices the hint of a smile on Glinda’s face, then she continues. “She was born on June 26th. She's an architecture major, and she likes her coffee iced, with oat milk and a shot of espresso—sometimes almond milk, but oat is her favorite. She’s too organized and wakes up too early because she has a meticulous routine.”

The facts rolled off her tongue effortlessly, almost clinical, but there was something else under the surface. Something quieter. Something real. Elphaba hesitated, glancing down at the dirt like maybe she could bury whatever was about to slip out next. But it came anyway, soft and barely audible.

“She hates thunderstorms and sleeping alone, especially in the dark.” Another breath. “But she’s also extremely considerate.”

It lingered, the weight of those words hanging between them like an unfinished sentence. Like an unspoken I remember. Because she did. She didn’t forget the way Glinda still turned off the lamp just the night before because she remembered. 

Glinda’s expression remained neutral, too neutral. But her fingers curled against her knees, her throat bobbing slightly as she swallowed.

She should say something sharp, something dismissive. Instead, she exhaled slowly and stood, turning to address the group only briefly before locking eyes with Elphaba. She smirked, just a little. Just enough to pretend this was just a game.

“This is Elphaba Thropp,” she said, and Oz, her voice was light. Almost flippant. But there was something else beneath it. Something that made Elphaba hold her breath. “She was born in Colwen Grounds at her mother’s ancestral home, but she’s been living between Munchkinland and the Emerald City since she was five. She likes the arrangement more than staying in one place. Yes, she’s been green her entire life, and no, she’s not seasick or secretly eats grass. She was born on Halloween and she’s a biology major.”

Glinda tilted her head, the barest trace of mischief glinting in her eyes. “She hates sweet things but keeps a box of chips under her bed, because, apparently, that doesn’t count as indulging.” A few campers chuckled at that, and Elphaba rolled her eyes.

“She likes her coffee black, but with two sugars—because just one isn’t enough, but she’ll never admit that. She hates waking up early, but she’ll stay up ridiculously late just to get her workout done.”

More giggles, mostly from the girls in the group, some of whom were openly staring at Elphaba’s arms. Glinda saw it. She felt it. And for absolutely no reason at all, it annoyed her.

So she kept going.

“She wouldn’t admit it, but she likes picnics and romcoms, and would go all out just to see someone smile. She’d drive hours just to get a girl fresh tulips from Munchkinland.”

Elphaba’s breath hitched, barely noticeable but Glinda noticed. The campers didn’t. But the silence that followed was just a second too long. And then, because she had to, Glinda let herself smirk again, tipping her head. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”

It was meant to be casual. Meant to be playful. But Elphaba was looking at her, really looking, like she saw everything behind that line. And Oz, Glinda had to sit down before her knees gave out.

Nessa was almost smug and Fiyero— who had clearly been dying for this —looked like he was seconds away from bursting with joy. But, miraculously, they both kept it to themselves, eyes flicking back to the other campers instead of the obvious tension sitting across from them.

By the time they reached the last person, the entire group was ushered toward lunch, and to their mild horror, they were all required to stay close to their partners. Yet, after that whole introduction ordeal, Glinda didn’t seem to mind.

And neither did Elphaba.

They ended up tucked away in the farthest corner of the mess hall, away from the noise, the chatter, the watchful eyes. Just the two of them.

The way it used to be.

Glinda tried not to think about that.

“I can’t believe we have to do that stupid trust-fall thing later,” She muttered, stabbing her salad a little too aggressively at the mere thought of it. Elphaba hummed, struggling to slice a chicken tender in half with the dull plastic knife. She grunted as she replied, “You’d be the type to let me drop.”

Glinda tilted her head, her brown eyes glinting with something Elphaba couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t cruel. It almost looked like…

“I’d at least think about it.”

Elphaba paused for just a second before she laughed. 

A laugh.

Not a dry chuckle, not a scoff, not one of those sarcastic little noises she made when something wasn’t actually funny, no, an actual laugh. It was short, but it was real. Her shoulders moved. Her teeth bared. Her eyes twinkled. The whole shebang.

Glinda’s fork stilled mid-stab, her stomach twisting into something tight and unbearably warm. “You actually laughed,” she murmured, not meaning for it to sound so stunned, so awed. She didn’t realize how much she missed that sound until she heard it again.

Elphaba, ever the coward, immediately shook her head, stuffing her mouth with fries to avoid responding. “I didn’t laugh. I… sneezed.” 

Bullshit.

“You laughed,” she repeated, tilting her chin up slightly. Say it. Admit it.

Elphaba sighed, already trying to shove the mask back on, already trying to shrink back into something unreadable. She waved a hand dismissively. “I didn’t laugh. You’re hallucinating.” But Glinda knew her too well. Of course she laughed.

Who wouldn’t? Glinda was funny. A natural-born comedian. A charming one at that. So what? Sue her.

And yet, something about this felt different. The way Elphaba had looked at her when she said it, like she knew she was being ridiculous, like she was enjoying this. The way there was no bite, no irritation, no edge.

Feeling far too pleased with herself, Glinda tossed her hair over one shoulder and grinned so wide her dimple showed. “Oz, you really miss me.” It was meant to be a tease. A lighthearted jab. But even as she said it, something tightened in her chest.

Elphaba didn’t snap back immediately. She didn’t roll her eyes or scoff or call her insufferable. Instead, she just raised a brow, gaze flicking over her, studying.

And then, too soft, too easy, she responded.  “So apart from being weird, you’re also making things up now?”

No bite. No snap. Just a small smirk on her face. 

Glinda shrugged, leaning forward slightly, chin resting on her palm. “Well, you do.”

A flicker. A shift. The ghost of a smile at the edge of Elphaba’s lips.

“You’re delusional.”

And maybe she was.

Maybe she was losing her mind, sitting here like this, falling into their old rhythm like the last year hadn’t happened. Like there wasn’t a giant gaping hole of time where they hadn’t spoken, hadn’t been anything to each other.

So she did what she did best. She leaned into it. With zero hesitation, she stole a fry from Elphaba’s tray, popping it into her mouth like it was her food, her right. “Say it,” she said between bites, voice teasing. “Say you miss me.”

It was supposed to be a joke. But some small, minuscule, hidden part of her wanted to hear it. It didn’t even have to be true. If Elphaba said it, even just for fun, even just to humor her, Glinda could live with that.

But Elphaba was nothing if not stubborn. And instead of giving her an inch of satisfaction, she retaliated by swiping Glinda’s drink and taking an exaggerated sip. “I would rather eat dirt.”

And this time, it was Glinda who laughed. Light. Fleeting. Real.

And for a second, even for just a second the world seemed to stop. Like it was just them again.

“This isn’t fair!” Elphaba squinted up at the sunlight, directing her protest at Boq, who was now assisting Nessa up the ramp. Her sister was set to be the first to go. First to do the trust fall, and the counselors, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that instead of falling backward like everyone else, she should just jump from her chair and be caught by Milla.

Which, sure, made sense. Logistically. Elphaba just needed something to complain about. Maybe because, after Nessa, it was going to be Fiyero and Boq, and then she was up next.

And her fate rested in Glinda’s hands. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

They’d had their moments, brief and fleeting, like fireflies that disappeared before she could tell if she was really seeing them at all. But there was also a sharpness between them. A deep, tangled history neither of them seemed willing to touch.

So trusting Glinda to catch her?

Elphaba wasn’t sure what part of that idea unsettled her more. At least Glinda wouldn’t murder her with multiple witnesses. That would be stupid.

They watched as the other campers went ahead, standing close enough to mumble under their breaths, some words about the exercise, others completely unrelated. Particularly now, with Fiyero standing on the plank, Boq waiting below with his arms wide open. “I kinda thought Boq was gay when I first met him,” Glinda whispered.

Elphaba snorted. Like, an actual snort. It startled her, how easy it was. How effortless. The way her stomach jumped, the way Glinda’s words landed just right, not mean, not overdone, just funny.

And Glinda…Well. Glinda felt satisfied. Whole.

Because she knew she could make Elphaba angry, that was easy, like pressing a button. But making her laugh? That was something else.

Elphaba shook her head, wincing slightly when Boq struggled under Fiyero’s weight. “When Nessa introduced him to us… I almost laughed. I mean, I already knew him, but still. It was a surprise.”

There was a lilt to her voice, something almost fond. And Glinda, unable to resist, let curiosity get the best of her. “Did they…” she started, but she didn’t have to finish. Elphaba already knew where this was going.

“Were they surprised when I took you home?” She asked, as if she hadn’t thought about that day, as if it wasn’t burned into the back of her mind like a brand. “Definitely,” she answered, lips twitching. “My father thought I paid you.”

Glinda laughed, not because it was funny (though it kind of was), but because it felt easy to do so. Elphaba had thought the whole thing was chaotic at the time. Entertaining. The way her family had gawked at Glinda, the way her mother had pulled her aside and whispered— she’s a keeper, don’t let this one go —like she was giving her the secret to life itself.

But then, she had done exactly that.

She had let go.

And suddenly, the memory wasn’t cute anymore.

Suddenly, she wanted to crawl into a hole.

And Glinda, who had spent that day adoring every ridiculous baby picture Melena Thropp had shown her, who had had a quiet conversation with Elphaba’s father about how his daughter was someone worth being patient with, felt the exact same ache bloom deep in her ribs.

She nearly let herself say something. But then, Elphaba’s voice snapped them both out of it. “We’re up next. I’ll go first.”

And by the time Glinda actually registered what was happening, Elphaba was already walking up the ramp, already standing on the plank, already putting herself in a very stupid position.

Glinda looked down at herself.

Then back up at Elphaba.

Then back down.

It didn't dawn on her how ridiculous this would look until now.

Because, yeah, okay, she was strong, but Elphaba was taller, built with lean muscle in places Glinda didn’t even know could have muscles. And Glinda? She had posture, okay? She had grace. She was not some kind of catching apparatus.

“Don’t crush me!” She called up, earning a few laughs from the group. But Elphaba wasn’t one of them.

Elphaba was scared.

She wouldn’t say it, but Glinda could see it. The way she kept glancing over her shoulder. The way her fingers twitched at her sides. The way she squared her shoulders like she was forcing herself to be okay with this.

Glinda didn’t think, didn’t second-guess herself. “I won’t,” she said, voice softer.

Elphaba glanced down at her. And then, she let herself fall. And Glinda, stupid, stubborn Glinda, used every ounce of strength in her body to keep her upright.

So when she did, when she felt the full force of Elphaba in her arms, she had one fleeting thought. She had her. She was holding her. And it didn’t feel as bad as she thought it would be.

“I told you I’d think about it,” Glinda whispers, voice light and teasing. But there’s something in her eyes, something dark and unreadable, peering through the fan of her long lashes.

Elphaba gulps. Actually gulps.

Her throat bobs, her knees weaken, and for one horrifying second, she thinks she might actually collapse. She forces herself upright, hands gripping Glinda’s shoulders a little harder than necessary, as if she needs something to ground her.

Because… Glinda caught her.

It was messy, a little sloppy, and almost dangerous. But she had done it. And Elphaba wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

So when Glinda steps onto the plank, Elphaba braces herself, not just physically, but mentally. Because, logically, she knows she’ll catch her. Glinda knows it too.

But the way Elphaba does it, the ease of it… It takes Glinda completely by surprise. Elphaba doesn’t just catch her. She carries her.

Effortlessly.

Like Glinda weighs nothing. Like she’s done it before.

And Oz… She has.

That realization crashes into Glinda all at once, a bolt of memory that makes her breath hitch, makes heat crawl up her neck.

Because she doesn’t have to imagine what it’s like to be held by Elphaba, to be lifted by her. She already knows.

She knows how easy it is for Elphaba to handle her, to move her exactly where she wants. She knows the feeling of strong arms under her thighs, around her waist, pressing her into…

Oh.

Oh, no.

Glinda’s entire body ignites, mortification swallowing her whole. This is not the time to be thinking about that. Not when she’s in Elphaba’s arms. Not when there are witnesses. And certainly not when Elphaba knows.

Because, oh. Oh, she knows.

There’s a glint in those dark eyes, something wicked and entirely too pleased. She adjusts her grip, fingers pressing just a little tighter against Glinda’s back, a little lower on her thigh, and Lurline above!

“Comfortable?” Elphaba asks, voice smooth and mocking. This was perfect, really. If Glinda could tease her earlier, well, two can play at that game. The blonde nearly chokes, struggling against her grip,  “Put me down.”

“Hmm. You sure?” The green woman tilts her head, letting her smirk stretch. “You’re awfully red, Miss Upland. Maybe you’re enjoying this a little too much?”

That makes a few campers laugh, watching the scene unfold. Glinda glares, squirming, which, was a bad idea.

Elphaba lets out a sharp breath, arms tightening around her instinctively, and Glinda wants to die. “You— you absolute brute—”

“You didn’t seem to mind before,” Elphaba murmurs, and it’s low, just for her, laced with something that makes Glinda’s stomach flip. “Put. Me. Down.”

Elphaba does. But slowly. Too slowly. Like she’s savoring it.

And when Glinda’s feet finally touch the ground, she refuses to meet her eyes, refuses to acknowledge the smug little smirk she knows is there.

“Something on your mind, Princess?”

Glinda scowls. “I loathe you.”

Elphaba chuckles, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. “Sure you do.”

So. Their thing has evolved. From arguing over every little thing to… This. Teasing.

It’s a new battlefield, but Glinda can adapt. She can work with this. Even if it makes her absolutely insane.

Shenshen is howling when Glinda stomps back to her spot, nudging her shoulder in jest while Elphaba takes her place beside Fiyero, already bickering with him about something stupid.

Honestly, Elphaba could be the smartest person in the room, but the second she’s sat between Boq and Fiyero? That brain? Gone.

And Glinda? She is steaming. Because Elphaba is still smug. Still unbearably tall. And—ugh.

“Look at her,” she huffs, and Shenshen hums, barely paying attention. “I am looking at her.”

“Smug and tall and ugh!” Shenshen still isn’t entirely sure what she’s meant to be seeing, but she’s smart enough not to say that.

One of the girls near them giggles, ogling the green girl with that look in their eyes. “I wonder what it’s like to be carried by her.”

Glinda’s head snaps so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t get whiplash. Her nostrils flare. Her vision whites out. Oh, you have got to be kidding. “Wouldn’t you like to know…”

The girl startles at her tone and Shenshen whistles low, removing herself from the situation. “Someone sounds jealous.”

Glinda does not hear her because she is glaring and burning a hole into this poor, unfortunate girl. Because how dare she? How dare she think about it, talk about it, when Glinda is right here?

She was the one who knew how strong Elphaba was. She was the one who had been… Caught , in various ways, in various positions…

She slaps the thought away before it can take form. And then she smiles, tilting her head like a cat that’s just spotted something fun to play with.

“I’ll let you in on something,” she says, voice saccharine. Then, she looks the girl up and down before adding, “You’re not her type.”

The girl blinks, clearly offended at her tone and at her words. “And you are?”

Clearly, this girl doesn’t know who she was. How horrendously bad Elphaba was for her. How she had the Elphaba Thropp wrapped around her finger. 

Perfect. 

Glinda doesn’t answer. She just turns on her heel and marches over to Elphaba.

Fiyero, to his credit, tries to hold back his laugh. “Uh oh. What did you do now?” Elphaba barely glances up. “No clue. Let’s see.”

The blonde stops in front of her, arms crossed, staring directly into amused dark eyes. “You’re annoying.”

From afar, one might mistake it for flirting. But it’s not, and Elphaba’s lips twitch, looking between the blonde and the two men, “I know. You’ve told me multiple times.”

Boq, watching with intense interest, tilts his head, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “You… You came all the way over here just to say that?”

That stuns Glinda.

Oh, Oz.

She did. And why? Because she was… She doesn’t even want to think about it. 

Quick, pivot.

“Well—” She fidgets with her bracelet, the gold glinting under the sunlight as she looks at the floor, “I also wanted to, um. Wish you boys luck. And, uh, tell her that she should do better later.”

Elphaba’s eyebrows shoot up at that, face twisting into a look of offence, “Do better?”

Then she’s all up in the blonde’s face, towering over her with that exasperated look. “I caught you with ease!” She argues, but Glinda is already walking away by the time she finishes her sentence. 

Elphaba watches her go, still thoroughly entertained, then slowly turns back to Boq and Fiyero. She leans in, voice lowered. “What the hell was that about?”

Fiyero and Boq burst out laughing. Because they knew. And their friend could be so incredibly dense. 

The brunette claps her on the back. “Oh, Fae, you’d figure it out soon enough.” Meanwhile, Boq smirks. “Might wanna watch out. She’s plotting something.”

Elphaba groans, looking at the blonde who was now smiling triumphantly, “She always is.”

Chapter Text

Glinda should be used to this by now.

The way Elphaba’s entire demeanor shifts the moment she’s presented with something to win. That sharp, focused glint in her eye. The way she squares her shoulders, already bracing herself for battle. The way she assesses the challenge in front of her, eyes flicking over every angle, every possible approach, calculating like she’s about to rewrite physics itself just to come out on top.

The wooden obstacle course sprawls out before them, and while the rest of the campers groan, Elphaba just comes alive.

Glinda watches as her lips twitch like she’s thrilled. Like she’s already solving some puzzle the rest of them haven’t even begun to comprehend. And Oz help anyone who gets in her way.

Glinda should be used to this by now.

But she’s not. Even though most of the time she sees that look on Elphaba when she’s challenging her. 

And she certainly isn’t used to the way it makes her feel.

Beside her, Fiyero cracks his knuckles and grins, leaning into Boq’s space like he’s already picturing some victory lap. “We’re kicking your ass!” he declares, slinging an arm over Boq’s rigid shoulders.

Elphaba barely acknowledges him, just shoots him a look, like he’s an amateur who doesn’t even realize he’s about to be annihilated. She’s already too focused.

She’s already plotting.

And Glinda—standing beside her, their shoulders brushing—is suddenly far too preoccupied with that. With her. Because she can feel her.

That warm, familiar weight at her side. The solid presence of Elphaba’s body is so close to hers. The easy way she stands there, completely unaware of the way Glinda is hyper-focused on every little thing she does.

Glinda is suddenly aware of everything.

The heat radiating off of Elphaba’s skin. The sharp scent of the outdoors clinging to her, like sun-warmed grass and something a little earthy, something distinctly her.

The way her arms are crossed now, pushing up the muscles in her forearms, subtle, but there. Strong.

And… Ugh.

This is so stupid.

Sure, they’re both competitive, but is this really worth ruining her clothes over? Is it worth the inevitable dirt? The sweat? The absolute mess she’s going to look like by the end of this?

And then…

“Glinda will hold her back.”

Fiyero’s words are so casual, tossed out like they’re fact, like they’re just some natural conclusion. It stings a little, angers her a lot. 

And that… That settles it. Yes. Yes, it is worth it.

Because Glinda is not about to be written off as some delicate deadweight. She might not be as athletic as Elphaba or Fiyero, but she is just as competitive.

If not more.

And she will prove—in one way or another—that she doesn’t hold Elphaba back.

That she never has.

Her nails dig into her palms, her jaw setting as she stares Fiyero down, as if sheer willpower alone could strike him down for his words. Across the course, the counselors are already explaining the first obstacle.

The wall stands before them, six feet of solid wood, a silent, looming challenge.

Somewhere in the background, there’s talk of bridges, of nets, of a flagpole at the very end, but Glinda doesn’t hear it. Because her gaze has already drifted. Because she’s looking at Elphaba.

And Elphaba? Elphaba is looking at the course like a predator. Eyes narrowed. Lips twitching into something almost dangerous.

And Oz.

That shouldn’t make Glinda feel the way it does.

That shouldn’t be sending an uninvited little thrill down her spine. But it does. Because there’s something electric about seeing Elphaba like this. Something so intense about her when she’s on, when she’s hungry for a win.

And suddenly, Glinda wants it too. Suddenly, she wants to match that energy. It’s almost like magic.

“What’s the matter, boys?” Elphaba calls, her voice smooth, casual, taunting. “Afraid you’ll get shown up?”

Of course they’re playing against Fiyero and Boq. Of course it has to be them. And of course, before the race even begins, Elphaba is already talking trash.

Glinda watches, arms crossed, lips pursed. watching as Fiyero smirks, as Boq grimaces, as Elphaba stands there looking so insufferably smug.

And then, Elphaba glances back at her and smirks harder. Like she knows Glinda is watching her. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing. And Glinda just smiles.

Because she knows Elphaba has her back, and when they’re together, they are unlimited. 

The course is a race, plain and simple. Fastest time wins. Easy enough.

At least, it should be. Elphaba rolls up her sleeves and ties her hair back into a sleek, no-nonsense ponytail, her sharp eyes scanning the course like she’s already dissecting every obstacle in her mind. She looks ready. Determined.

Glinda, on the other hand, feels utterly out of place. She knows she shouldn’t, but come on, does she really look like someone who should be climbing walls and crawling under things? She’s in a designer skirt, for Oz’s sake.

But then Fiyero has to open his mouth. “You two are going to fall apart!” He announces with far too much confidence, his arm still slung over Boq’s shoulder. Who, for his part, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

And that shouldn’t get under Glinda’s skin. It shouldn’t make her want to wipe that smug look right off Fiyero’s face.

But it does 

And Elphaba, standing right beside her, must feel the exact same way, because her lips twitch into something dangerous, her scowl had gone deeper, her eyes boring a hole onto the side of Fiyero’s head. She loved him dearly, of course, he was one of their closest friends.

But Elphaba draws the line at that. Glinda might be her ex but she’s also her partner, and they were going to win. The look she gives him makes Glinda ten times more competitive than she already was.

They take their spots at the starting line, staring up at the first obstacle. The six-foot wooden wall. Elphaba doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even blink. She’s been staring at this Ozforsaken wall since they got there. She knew what they were going to do.

“I’ll throw you over,” she says easily, as if that is a completely normal thing to say. Glinda snaps her head toward her, mouth slightly agape. “Excuse me?”

Elphaba’s eyes don’t even leave the wall, looking for possible divots or exposed nails that could either help or injure them, “Fiyero’s going first and pulling Boq up. It’s a bad strategy, but they think it’ll be faster.”

Glinda glances over, and… Oz. That’s exactly what they’re planning.  Her brows furrow, because how exactly could the green woman know?

“You overheard them?” She asks, brown eyes also scaling the wall in front of them.

“No.” Elphaba’s lips curve slightly, almost like she’s amused that Glinda even asked. “I know how their minds work.”

She tries very hard not to look impressed.

Elphaba finally turns her gaze to her, unreadable but piercing. “We’re doing the opposite. I get you up there first, you don’t wait at the top. Just drop down and I’ll meet you on the other side.”

The blonde swallows, suddenly feeling everything set in all at once, “And how are you getting up?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Her smirk is cocky, way too cocky, to the point that it almost feels like her ego is taking up all the space in this fucking camp. 

And that is what sets off every single alarm in Glinda’s brain. Because whenever Elphaba says something like that, it always means she’s about to do something unnecessarily dramatic. It’s one of the things she disliked about her. How dead set she is on things without thinking, even if it could potentially hurt her. 

She squints, watching the gears turn in that head of hers, “You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?” The taller girl’s smirk widens, eyes finally leaving the wall to look at her, “Define stupid.”

Glinda lets out a sharp, exasperated breath. “Oh, I don’t know… Climbing a six-foot wall alone in the most reckless way imaginable?”

Elphaba could only hum at that, tilting her head, not wanting to deny or confirm. Because, truthfully, Glinda’s right. So, she diverts, crossing her arms as her gaze flicks to Boq and Fiyero for a second, “Would you help me?”

Glinda glares at her, much less menacing than the glare she gave to Fiyero, but should be enough to rattle the green woman in front of her, “That is not the point.”

“So you’re worried about me.”

It didn’t rattle her.

Elphaba says it like it’s not even a question. Like she already knows the answer. She looks so smug, so annoyingly smug, with that smile of hers that shows the gap between her teeth… Oz. Glinda hates that she’s right.

So she scoffs, crossing her arms defensively, “I am worried about winning.”

Elphaba’s eyes could only glint in response, “Mhm.”

That sets off something with the blonde. This is another thing she disliked about Elphaba when they were dating. Not that it was a bad thing, but it’s certainly aggravating. She hated it so much. She still does now. “Don’t ‘mhm’ me.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She counters, her smile still ever present on her face. “You went mhm . You know I hate that.”

Elphaba chuckles, low and quiet and so infuriating, but before Glinda can snap at her again, the whistle blows.

And Fiyero is already sprinting toward the wall. And Elphaba…

Elphaba doesn’t hesitate.

She grabs Glinda’s waist with steady, firm hands, braces herself, and lifts her like it takes no effort at all. Like Glinda is weightless.

And that should not make her feel the way it does. It should not make her skin tingle and her heart to hammer wildly in her chest. Her hands shouldn’t have burned on her skin and lingered there a second longer than it should.

But it does.

Because this isn’t the first time Elphaba has lifted her like this. And having her do it now, to have her hold her like this feels even worse than when she did earlier. With every touch, she unravels.

Glinda practically scrambles over the wall, landing with an unceremonious thud on the other side, heat rushing to her face. She does not think about the last time Elphaba had picked her up like that. Spinning her around the quad after she aced an exam, or after they beat their friends at game night… 

Right. Focus. Back to the task at hand.

She turns around, expecting Elphaba to be climbing up the wall behind her. Instead, she sees her backing up with a very familiar look in her eye. And it all happens so fast that Glinda barely has time to open her mouth before Elphaba sprints.

And vaults over the side of the wall like she’s been training for years. Like she’s in some kind of action movie. Glinda screams, not out of fear, but out of pure, unfiltered, exasperation.

Because of course Elphaba did that. Because of course she had to be unnecessarily dramatic.

Elphaba just laughs as she lands on the spot beside Glinda, not even heaving like Fiyero who was still on top of the wall. She’s smug. Infuriating. Grinning like they had all the time in the world.

Glinda swears that if this course won’t, then she’s going to kill her.

Although, if Glinda had to guess, she was the one more likely to die by the time they reached the next obstacle. Because right in front of them was a bridge.

And not the sturdy, well-maintained kind of bridge that civilized people should be using. No, this one was a rickety, questionable thing. Thin ropes and wooden planks hanging across the lake, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze. It looked older than Madame Morrible herself.

And Oz, the thought alone sends a shiver down Glinda’s spine. It makes her queasy.

She’s not exactly a fan of heights. And sure, she knows it’ll be fine, knows that if she falls, it’s just water. That it won’t kill her. But it’s not hitting the water that scares her. It’s the falling.

The sudden drop. The feeling of nothing under her feet. Elphaba knows this. She remembers.  

She remembers the ferris wheel in one of their dates. How Glinda had been so determined when they were still in line, insisting she wanted the cliché, romantic moment at the top. And how the moment they were actually up there while high above the ground, with nothing but the wind and the stars and the city lights, Glinda had clung to her like her life depended on it.

Elphaba had held her the entire time. Glinda had been quiet, her fingers gripping Elphaba’s jacket tight, pressed so close that Elphaba could feel every shiver.

She whispered, voice small but firm: “Don’t let go.”

And Elphaba hadn’t. Not for a second.

Even now over a year later, with everything that’s changed between them, Elphaba still remembers. So she exhales, shifting beside her, and…

“Here.” She offers her arm, steady and sure, green against the sunlight. Glinda only blinks at it. Stares at it like she didn’t know what to do with it.

“I know you don’t like heights,” Elphaba says, softer now, like she’s giving her an out, “Just… hold on to me, okay? Fiyero’s even worse than you.”

That last part is meant to be a joke. Some sort of half-hearted reassurance, but also, probably true. Because if anyone was stupid enough to try and sprint across that death trap, it was Fiyero. And sure enough, on the other bridge, their friends are already taking the kind of reckless approach that makes Glinda’s blood pressure spike.

But still.

Still, she can’t quite wrap her head around the fact that Elphaba is offering.

That she remembers.

That she hasn’t snapped at her or rolled her eyes or treated her like deadweight, the way Fiyero had been joking about earlier. It makes her feel lighter. It makes her feel okay.

And even worse, it makes her feel.

But she takes the offered arm, wrapping both hands around it firmly, ignoring the way her heartbeat rattles in her ears as they take the first step and then she screams.

So loudly that a few birds that nestled their ways into the trees flew away.

The first few steps are awful, and she clings to Elphaba with everything she has, screwing her eyes shut and forcing herself to breathe. And Elphaba… is laughing.

Not in a cruel way, not even in an I told you so way, but in that quietly amused, deeply fond way that makes something flutter in Glinda’s stomach.

She squeezes her arm tighter, swatting her shoulder with a light tap, “Stop laughing!”

“I’m not.” Elphaba retorts, chuckling as she takes another step, bringing Glinda with her. Her body shakes with the suppressed giggles, while the blonde’s does so for an entirely different reason. And yet, she still finds it in herself to respond, “You are.”

“You’re imagining things.” She adds with a playful smile onto her face. She doesn’t necessarily drag her to the other end, after all they had a pretty big headstart from the other two. “I swear to Oz, if you drop me—”

“I won’t.” And somehow, somehow, that’s enough. Glinda finally opens her eyes, now noticing that they were halfway through this rickety bridge.

And suddenly— suddenly —she wants to prove that she can do this. That she isn’t a burden. That she can keep up.

So she forces herself forward, still holding onto Elphaba, but moving faster now, more certain. And before she even realizes it, she’s leading Elphaba toward the other end.

She barely registers the chaos beside them, the way Fiyero and Boq are shaking the ropes so aggressively that one of them ends up toppling straight into the water, sending up a chorus of laughter and cheers from the campers.

Because by the time they reach the other side Glinda’s eyes are bright. They’re gleaming.

And when she turns to Elphaba, she finds her smiling. Really smiling. Wide and toothy and proud.

It’s the kind of expression Glinda knows Elphaba doesn’t give freely, which makes it feel like something earned. “Look who’s not scared anymore,” Elphaba murmurs, voice warm with amusement.

Glinda swallows, her own smile widening at her words. But it’s not just the words. It’s the way Elphaba is looking at her. Like she still knows her. Like she never stopped.

They don’t know how long they’ve been standing there, looking at each other like that.

But they do know that Nessa yells something from the other end, voice loud and impatient, and suddenly, they’re sprinting toward the next obstacle. The moment Glinda sees it, she doesn’t hesitate.

She drops to her knees, ignoring the way dirt clings to her skin, streaking pale thighs and scraping against the soft flesh of her palms. The rich, damp earth smears against the fabric of her skirt, sinking into the fabric, staining it beyond repair.

She knows it. And she doesn’t care. Not about the dirt. Not about the mess. Not about the way the ground feels wrong under her hands, uneven and sticky and too close to her. She just moves.

Elphaba watches her go, watches the sheer determination in the set of her shoulders, the way she barely even flinches at the filth clinging to her skin. It’s new. And it’s not.

Elphaba has always known Glinda like this. Has seen her when she’s made up her mind. When she’s ruthless in her focus, so unshakably stubborn that nothing could pull her away from what she wants.

And right now, Glinda wants to win. Elphaba thinks that maybe this look suits her.

Determined. Fierce.

Not giving a fuck.

So Elphaba follows, dropping to her knees, crawling after her without hesitation. For a while, it’s easy. The net is low, but not impossible. Their bodies move in perfect rhythm—left, right, left—skimming just beneath the weave of rope, their breathing steady, their limbs sharp with adrenaline.

And then disaster struck.

Elphaba jerks suddenly, a sharp tug at her scalp stopping her cold. That’s when the panic sets in. Because the space is small, too tight, and the moment she tries to move, tries to twist or reach back, she can’t.

She can’t.

Dirt presses against her cheek, too close, too close, and her breath stutters as the edges of her vision blur. “Fuck,” she grits out, straining, her body thrumming with rising panic. “Fuck, fuck—”

“Elphaba.” Glinda’s voice cuts through the noise. Firm. Steady. Calm.

Not frantic. Not panicking. Just there. Glinda sees her. And in the next second, she’s moving, scrambling toward her, ignoring the way her shoulders slip in the mud, ignoring the way her skirt drags against the dirt. She just moves.

Until suddenly, she’s right there right in front of her.

A tight squeeze, barely any room between them, the space between their bodies shrouded in heat and damp earth. Glinda’s breathing is heavy. Elphaba can feel it, the warm gusts of air ghosting against her skin. “Calm down,” She says, her voice low but certain.

Elphaba’s fingers clench into the ground, feeling her heart pummel in her chest. “Don’t tell me to calm down.”

“I am telling you.” The blonde huffs, eyes flicking up, scanning the ropes above her, narrowing as she pinpoints the exact place where Elphaba’s braid has tangled.

She clicks her tongue. And then, carefully, she reaches up. Her fingers brush against Elphaba’s temple, featherlight, just for a second, just enough to send a shiver down her spine. Then they move higher, her lips parting slightly as she focuses, tongue pressed against the corner of her mouth in pure concentration.

Elphaba goes still.

Because it’s too much. The heat of Glinda’s body, the way she’s so close, the way she’s practically straddling the space between them to get the right angle, her knees digging into the dirt, her breath fanning against Elphaba’s cheek.

It takes longer than it should. Long enough that they can hear Fiyero and Boq scurrying at the start of the course, picking up speed. But for once, Elphaba doesn’t care. Because Glinda is here. And she hasn’t looked away once.

“I know you miss me, but we do have a race to win.” Glinda’s voice is teasing, light, but it cuts through the thick tension like a knife, snapping Elphaba out of the haze she’d just started to fall into.

The moment shatters, not entirely, but enough that it leaves Elphaba reeling, her stomach flipping in a way that has nothing to do with the crawling or the sprinting or the godforsaken dirt all over her skin. She grunts, turning back to the task at hand, forcing herself to move.

Ignoring the way her cheeks are burning. Ignoring the way Glinda giggles behind her, so unbearably smug. Ignoring the fact that, for one stupid second, she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

By some miracle, they don’t eat dirt for the rest of the obstacle. But by the time they stand, Elphaba can feel it everywhere. The dull ache in her knees, the sting in her shoulders, the uncomfortable stickiness of sweat and dust clinging to her skin.

She stretches, shaking it off, before glancing back at Glinda, who is standing there, glaring down at herself like she’s personally offended by the state of her clothes. Elphaba huffs out something almost like a laugh.

“You shouldn’t have worn that,” Elphaba mutters, barely realizing she’s spoken until it’s already out. And, predictably Glinda whirls on her with an incredulous glare. “You don’t tell me what to wear.”

It’s sharp. Defensive.

And Elphaba could snap back. Could roll her eyes and argue just for the sake of arguing.

It would be easier. But instead, she exhales, raising her hands in surrender, taking a step back. “You're right,” she says. Then, before she can stop herself, “I’m sorry.”

The words hang between them. Glinda stills. For the first time since they broke up, Elphaba tells her she’s sorry.

And… fuck. She means it. It’s in her voice, in her eyes, in that quiet weight that always settles beneath her words when she’s being honest. When she’s saying something that actually matters.

Glinda feels like she can’t breathe. Because she never expected, hell, she never imagined that Elphaba would be the one to say it first. That she would… Oh. 

Those three words, so simple and raw, hang between them. For the first time since their breakup, Elphaba voices an apology that carries the weight of quiet regret. In that moment, her emerald eyes reveal a depth of remorse and vulnerability that makes Glinda’s heart skip, a pang that is both unexpected and excruciating. Glinda feels her own stomach twist at the sight. Never had she imagined Elphaba would say sorry. Never did she think the strong, determined Elphaba would let down her guard so completely.

The memory of their shared history, of late nights and whispered confessions, of challenges overcome together, surges through Glinda, mingling with the bitter taste of rivalry. 

And then…

Shit.

The race.

The thought slams back into her, sudden and jarring, yanking her out of the moment before it can suffocate her.

No hesitation. She grabs Elphaba’s hand tightly, feeling the way their fingers instinctively entwine, slotting together like they always have, like nothing has changed, like they never stopped. And then they run.

The field stretches before them, the bright neon orange flag waiting at the other end, so close, so goddamn close. Fiyero and Boq are right behind them, too close, and faster, gaining ground.

But Glinda doesn’t care. She is not deadweight. She outright refuses to be.

So she runs faster, harder, dragging Elphaba along like her own legs don’t ache, like her lungs aren’t burning, like she wasn’t just unraveling into a whole different kind of mess only seconds ago.

Elphaba just lets her. Lets herself be pulled, lets herself follow, like she doesn’t care that her body is screaming, like she doesn’t care that her breath is coming in short, shallow bursts. Like she would let Glinda drag her anywhere.

When they reach the pole, before Glinda can even ask, before she can so much as look at her, Elphaba lifts her.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just instinct.

Glinda grabs the flag just as Fiyero leaps for it.

She hears his groan of defeat before she even processes what’s happened, watches as he stumbles back, clutching his shoulder after colliding with the ground. Boq is just as winded, hunched over with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

And then, Elphaba loses her grip, and Glinda barely has time to yelp before she’s falling, the flag slipping from her fingers as she crashes right onto Elphaba, who lets out a sharp oof! as she lands on her back.

Dirt kicks up around them, clings to their clothes, their skin. Elphaba winces as it seeps into her shirt, but before she can so much as breathe, Glinda is already pushing herself up, bracing her arms on either side of Elphaba’s head.

“You dropped me!” She yells, indignant, her hair a mess, her clothes stained, and Elphaba stays there, staring at her, glasses askew. Her eyes are gleaming, they still do even when she scowls. “You weighed me down.”

Scandalized, the blonde gasps, eyes widening, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

It should be an argument. It should be a real fight, the kind they used to have, the kind that ended with slammed doors and shouted words neither of them meant. The kind that would have their friends pulling them aside so it wouldn’t get physical. So one of them wouldn’t just… Cry. 

But it isn’t.

Because Elphaba isn’t glaring at her. Not really. And Glinda isn’t actually mad.

Not really.

Because neither of them move.

They’re tangled together in the dirt, surrounded by the other campers, their limbs a mess of angles, and then… 

Elphaba laughs.

A real, breathless laugh, like she can’t help it, like it just tumbles out of her. Glinda wants to shove her off, wants to roll her eyes and groan and remind her that they hate each other… 

But she doesn’t.

Because suddenly, she’s laughing too.

It isn’t until their counselor, Ozma, strolls over with a grin that reality settles back in. “Take a shower and join us later, ladies,” they say, amused, before handing Elphaba the flag, a little souvenir of their victory.

Elphaba turns it over in her hands. She had come to this camp expecting a wellness retreat, expecting quiet, expecting peace.

She hasn’t gotten that. Not even a little. But she has gotten this. And somehow, that’s enough.

Their walk back to the cabin is silent, but it isn’t awkward. Their shoulders brush every few steps. Their hands are inches apart.

Neither of them move away.

Neither of them say anything.

They still hate each other.

Obviously.

They still want each other to suffer.

Obviously.

But there’s a dull ache in both their chests, an unspoken something that hovers between them, unsteady and unformed. There are things they want to say, things they should say.

But not yet. Not today.

When they step inside, Elphaba heads straight for their shared room, toeing off her shoes before she even crosses the threshold. Glinda barely has a chance to follow before Elphaba beats her to the bathroom by a second, tossing her a smug look over her shoulder.

“Slowpoke.”

Glinda narrows her eyes, feeling the dirt cling onto her skin.

“Artichoke.”

Elphaba snorts, shaking her head, still hanging by the door, “You are the most annoying person I've ever met.”

“And you are insufferable,” Glinda retorts, arms crossed, standing in the middle of the cabin.

They glare at each other.

They don’t smile. Not really. Because that would be ridiculous.

And, just like that, the ache shifts into a buzz.

The game, the back-and-forth, the need to get the other to react… 

It’s so familiar.

And for now, for the rest of camp, they let themselves have it.

Elphaba is sprawled on the cabin’s worn-out sofa, her smuggled laptop balanced on her legs, scrolling through that one video site Nessa forced her to download. Something about her needing some “fun” in her day to day activities. 

It had been a mistake.

Because now she has a feed, and her brain is mush, and she’s watching a random video about a guy building a house in the middle of nowhere when she should be… 

Well, not thinking.

The little moments from the day refuse to leave her alone. Like fingerprints smudge onto glass, no matter how much she tries to wipe them away, they stay. The way Glinda’s voice had curled around her name, teasing, the glint in her eye when she knew she was winning. The feel of her hand in hers, dragging them toward the finish line. The weight of her on top of her when they collapsed, laughing.

Elphaba had convinced herself she had stopped thinking about Glinda before this. Had moved on. But now? Now, Glinda is just a few feet away, in the shower, separated by thin walls that do a terrible job at blocking out sound. And suddenly, Elphaba feels cornered. Like an animal pressed against a glass enclosure, forced to acknowledge that there is no way out.

She should leave. Should go outside, get some air, clear her head. But she doesn’t. And she regrets it the moment the bathroom door swings open.

Steam spills out, curling at Glinda’s feet like something deliberate, like she belongs in some overly indulgent romance movie. And Elphaba, who has spent her whole life avoiding those kinds of movies suddenly understands why they exist.

Because Glinda is damp and flushed from the heat, golden strands of hair clinging to her shoulders, droplets of water sliding down the curve of her throat. And she’s in nothing but a towel.

Elphaba’s eyes move without her permission, tracking the movement of a stray drop as it disappears just below Glinda’s collarbone, where the towel is barely holding on.

Oz.

Her skincare routine really is working. Elphaba swallows, her throat suddenly, painfully dry. And then, lower. Just for a second, just enough to clock the way the towel clings, how the hem teeters dangerously high on smooth, bare thighs.

Glinda, to her absolute delight, notices it. It’s so obvious that she couldn’t help but smirk.

She shifts her weight, purposefully slow, like she’s testing just how much power she holds in this moment. “I know you missed this view, Elphaba,” she says, sweet as sugar, but with just enough bite to make Elphaba snap back to reality.

Elphaba jerks her gaze back to the laptop so fast she might’ve given herself whiplash. “You’re delusional. I wasn’t looking.”

Glinda hums, completely unconvinced. “Oh, Elphaba, you’re such a bad liar.”

Elphaba hates that it gets to her. That her entire body feels too hot now, her pulse too loud. She slams her laptop shut so aggressively that she nearly topples it off her lap, pushing herself up off the couch in one sharp motion. “I’m going to wait outside.”

She needs air. Fresh air. Before she combusts. Glinda watches her flee, grinning victoriously.

Outside, the air is cooler than what they had anticipated, and she had to hug her jacket tighter to her body to stop the air from seeping through. It’s mostly quiet, especially when most of the campers are probably in the mess hall already eating dinner after today’s activities, so she could hear the way Glinda’s moving inside the cabin.

And, speaking of Glinda, what the fuck was Elphaba thinking? Elphaba did not have to think about her like that.

She didn’t have to think about how soft Glinda’s skin looked, or how soft she knew it was. Didn’t have to think about the perfect golden waves that framed her face, still damp, or how her eyes were too bright even in dim light.

Didn’t have to think about how effortlessly beautiful she was. Because if she let herself think about it, if she let herself admit it, it made moving on that much harder.

And Elphaba had been trying. Trying so damn hard. 

She tilts her head back, staring at the sky like it might offer answers. She laughs, dry and humorless, running a hand through her hair. “You’re pathetic.”

So caught up in her thoughts, she doesn’t hear the cabin door open. Doesn’t hear the soft shuffle of footsteps until there’s movement beside her, until the lock clicks and someone clears their throat. Elphaba startles, whipping her head around just as Glinda settles next to her on the porch railing.

Glinda, now in an oversized jacket and sweats, her comfiest slippers on, smiles up at her until her dimple was showing up, peeking at her through her rimmed glasses that she only wore at night. “You’re talking to yourself now? Crazy.”

She grins when Elphaba visibly jumps. Smug. Pleased. Because she knows. Knows she had Elphaba’s brain short-circuiting just minutes ago. Knows she was looking. And oh, she wants to tease her for it. She wants to make her squirm just a little more.

But instead, she shrugs, stepping down onto the grass. Elphaba exhales, pushing herself off the railing, following her like there isn’t a choice. Like she’s tethered.

The walk to the mess hall is silent, but charged. More so than earlier. Every step carries unspoken words, unsaid things lingering between them like static in the air.

By the time they get there, the hall is full, the scent of warm food settling over the space, but the trays are already picked over. They manage to scavenge decent portions. Glinda with something that vaguely resembles a salad, Elphaba with a pasta dish that looks more concerning than edible.

They take their usual spot at the table right next to their friends’ and it's not like Glinda wanted to sit across from Elphaba again, but it was the only space available, and she was hungry, and it wasn’t like she was going to make a big deal out of it. 

Except Boq was already making a big deal out of it.

The second they sit, he’s grinning, eyes alight with something mischievous. His ridiculous orange hair practically glowing under the overhead lights. Elphaba doesn’t like that look.

“So.” He takes an obnoxiously casual bite of pizza. Chews. Swallows. Draws it out. Then he hits them with the most earth shattering question the two have heard since coming here, “Have you guys kissed already?”

Elphaba and Glinda choke simultaneously.

Elphaba grips the edge of the table like she’s going to flip it. Glinda glares, wiping her mouth aggressively with a napkin.

“Excuse me?” Glinda manages, eyes narrowed, voice low, her lips upturned into a frown. 

“Come on,” Boq shrugs. “With how you were acting earlier, you can’t blame us for thinking you kissed.”

“But we didn’t,” Elphaba cuts in sharply, stabbing her fork into her pasta with so much force that the noodles don’t even separate. It’s a little concerning. Like she might actually commit murder if this conversation continues.

Nessa hums, completely unfazed by her sister’s rising aggression. She’s feeling less and less guilty about her part in this whole scheme. If anything, she’s proud. Because after seeing them together? The way they moved around each other like magnets? Yeah. There was definitely potential here.

“We’re just saying,” Nessa muses, sipping her drink. “You two looked okay out there. It wouldn’t be bad if things… you know.”

Glinda stiffens at what they were implying, at what they wanted to happen. But they certainly cannot let that happen. “We don’t know.”

Pfannee leans forward, smirking. “Oh, so you two are a ‘we’ now?”

Elphaba and Glinda both turn to glare at him. Pfannee just keeps smiling, like he knows he’s struck gold.

They should be grateful they’re in public. Grateful their limbs are too sore to commit homicide.

Because if they weren’t, if they had even an ounce more energy left, Boq and Pfannee wouldn’t be making it out of this dinner alive.

The conversation thankfully takes a turn when ShenShen barrels in with gossip, her words tumbling out so fast it derails the relentless teasing. Elphaba seizes the opportunity, shifting her focus away from Boq’s smug grin and Pfannee’s knowing smirk.

She leans forward slightly, stabbing at what’s left of her dinner. “We should do something about them.” Across from her, Glinda arches a delicate brow, “What? Murder is illegal.”

Elphaba almost laughs. Almost. Instead, a sharp exhale escapes her nose, the closest thing to amusement she’ll allow in the presence of their enemies… or friends, technically, both are correct. She slides her plate forward without a word, nudging it toward Glinda, who, despite her valiant attempt at pretending to be content with her sad excuse of a salad, is clearly still hungry.

Glinda eyes the offering for only a second before surrendering, pulling it toward her. “I don’t know,”  Elphaba murmurs between gulps of her drink, “They keep making fun of us.”

Glinda watches her for a beat, swallows down the pasta with a content sigh, “I think we deserve it after blowing up in front of them multiple times.”

Elphaba sighs, but doesn’t argue. Because she knows Glinda is right. Their history had been a series of explosions. All sharp words and sharp glances and tension so thick it drowned everything else out. And their friends? They had front-row seats to all of it.

So, fair.

Still annoying, though.

By the time dinner winds down, they’re the last ones left in the mess hall, stragglers to a table full of abandoned trays. The rest of their group has already moved toward the campfire, and after a beat, they follow.

Glinda perches on a log, Nessa beside her, while ShenShen’s dramatic retelling of some scandal keeps them entertained. The fire crackles, flickering gold and orange, casting warm light over the scene.

Elphaba lingers at the edge of the group, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Fiyero is beside her, toasting marshmallows with far too much concentration for someone who doesn’t actually like s’mores.

She thinks she’s blending into the background. Thinks she’s literally blending into the foliage. Thinks no one will notice that her eyes have drifted across the fire to Glinda.

But Fiyero notices.

“You’re staring,” He mutters, voice low, amusement curling at the edges of his words. Elphaba doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t deny it, which is saying something. Her posture is looser, relaxed in a way that it hasn’t been in months when Glinda is involved.

It’s… easy.

Too easy.

Like slipping into a rhythm she thought she’d forgotten, only to realize it’s still right there, waiting. She tears her gaze away just long enough to glance at Fiyero, giving a half-hearted shrug. “I’m just wondering…”

She trails off.

Because what is she wondering, exactly?

Why did I ever let her go?

Why can’t I still can’t seem to move on?

Why is being near her after everything still so damn easy?

Fiyero tilts his head, waiting, but whatever Elphaba might have said is interrupted by an approaching figure.

Milla—one of Nessa’s cabinmates—appears out of the shadows, looking entirely too pleased for someone bringing bad news, “The counselors just assigned night patrol duty.”

A chorus of groans ripples through the campers, dreading the possibility of being chosen. Glinda, too preoccupied with ShenShen’s latest gossip, doesn’t even consider that she might be on the list.

Not until she hears her name.

And Elphaba’s.

Her spine straightens so fast it’s a miracle she doesn’t snap in half. “Excuse me, what?”

She turns sharply, eyes wild, glasses fogging up from the heat of the fire and pure outrage. Meanwhile, Elphaba lets out a slow breath, accepting her fate with quiet resignation. If she had to be stuck patrolling the woods in the dead of night, at least she wasn’t suffering alone.

Glinda had a lot to say about the unfair and completely ridiculous punishment of being assigned night patrol. She had ranted the entire time they were handed their flashlights, had continued to complain while their so-called friends ditched them for the warmth of their cabins, and was still going as they trudged through the dark, searching for stragglers who had the audacity to break curfew.

“This is literally the start of a horror movie,” She grumbled, keeping close to Elphaba, her flashlight aimed stiffly ahead. Elphaba, in contrast, was completely unbothered, sweeping her light over bushes and abandoned corners, actually doing what they were supposed to be doing.

For someone so vocal about not being scared, Glinda did jump at every noise. Not that she was terrified or fearful for her life, no, she was just cautious. After all, there could be a rabid raccoon. Or a strange man lurking in the woods. Or something else.

She was being practical, really.

Elphaba ignored her for the most part, though there was a barely-there smirk tugging at the edge of her lips whenever Glinda gasped or clung just a little closer.

It wasn’t until they reached the pier that the cold truly started to settle in, the lake stretching out before them in an expanse of dark, endless ripples. The wind carried a bite, slipping beneath Glinda’s jacket like an unwelcome guest, making her hug herself tighter. 

“We're going to be murdered.”

Her voice wasn’t exactly serious, but there was a nervous edge to it that Elphaba definitely caught onto. Glinda kept her flashlight pointed straight ahead, her grip on it tightening. She was doing her part, making sure they could see, actually keeping them alive, while Elphaba was off waving her light around like they were in some investigative crime show.

And then Elphaba stilled. Her posture shifted ever-so-slightly, tension rippling through her shoulders as she let out a sharp, hushed, “Shit... Did you hear that?”

Glinda froze, panic already settling in. “Hear what?!” She whispered, immediately stepping closer, too close, actually, because in the next second, her fingers curled instinctively around the fabric of Elphaba’s jacket sleeve.

Elphaba could have been kind. Could have reassured her. Instead, she turned ever so slightly, eyes wide, face serious. “I... I don’t know. I swore I heard something.”

Glinda visibly tensed, fingers gripping tighter. And then, because Elphaba Thropp was a menace, she let her gaze flicker toward the trees, just beyond Glinda’s shoulder, and whispered, “Oh Oz... it’s getting closer.”

“Nope! Nope! We’re leaving!” Glinda immediately declared, turning so fast she nearly tripped over herself. Elphaba barely held in her laugh, deciding to mess with her further, “I think we should check it out,” She added, just to be extra.

That earned her a sharp smack to the back of the head—not hard, but firm enough that her own braids barely cushioned the hit. “Are you stupid?! That’s how people die in horror movies!”

“What if it’s a camper?” Elphaba countered, taking a pointed step toward the trees, the leaves crackling under her feet. Glinda’s eyes widened, already running to the green woman because she would not be left alone.

“And what if it’s a seven-foot man with mommy issues who wears a hockey mask and kills people?!”

Elphaba snorted at that, “Didn’t he only kill horny teenagers?”

Glinda gasped, somehow shocked that the other girl decided to focus on that instead of the killing part, “You remember that?!”

Of course she did. They had argued about it for half an hour during movie night two weeks ago, when Glinda had insisted that Jason Voorhees was an equal opportunity murderer, and Elphaba had refused to take it seriously.

Now, she smirked, tilting her head slightly. “I don’t think he’ll kill us... Unless you brought me here because you’re horny? You were leading the way after all.”

“You wish.”

Elphaba hummed, her flashlight sweeping across the line of trees carelessly, much more focused in toying with the girl, “So you’re saying you don’t have an elaborate plan to lure me out here under the guise of night patrol so you can have your wicked way with me?”

She almost sounded disappointed. But she was acting, of course. 

Glinda rolled her eyes, feeling herself relax for a moment as they walked, “If I did, it would not involve freezing my ass off in the dark.”

Elphaba nodded as if considering it, like it’s a serious matter, “Fair point. Though, if you were planning something, I’d have to say that I'm flattered.”

“Oh, shut up—”

And then, the bushes rustled. Like, actually rustled.

Both of them went completely still. Elphaba’s smirk dropped. This was not part of the plan. 

“Elphaba…” She whispered, her grip turning vice-like on Elphaba’s arm, “Mhm?”

“We should run.” A beat. Then the bushes rustled again. 

Elphaba backs away just enough, “Run!”

They bolted, running at full speed toward the cabins, not stopping until they were inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, their backs pressed against the wood, hearts pounding from the sprint.

Glinda was not amused. Her legs burned from exertion, her breath was uneven, and her entire body felt electric with adrenaline. She still wasn’t entirely convinced that there wasn’t a masked killer out there lurking in the dark, waiting for them to let their guard down.

And then, Elphaba laughed. Not just a small laugh—a full-bodied, gut-busting laugh.

She doubled over, clutching her stomach, her braids falling into her face, her entire frame shaking with it. It was the kind of laugh that made her eyes crinkle, the kind that revealed her sharp, toothy grin, her entire face glowing with amusement.

Glinda, initially appalled, could only gape at her before the absurdity of it all hit her, and suddenly, she was laughing too. Nervously at first, because what if there was actually something out there?

But then, when it became clear that nothing was clawing at the door, that no hockey-masked murderer had followed them, she let herself fall into it, laughing freely. “You were so scared,” Elphaba wheezed, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

“Oh, you're acting like you didn’t run?” Glinda shot back, her hands on her hips, her own smile nearly splitting her face into two.

“I was messing with you first,” Elphaba defended, finally straightening and shrugging off her jacket, tossing it onto the nearby chair. “Right, because messing with me clearly means sprinting for your life,” Glinda rolled her eyes, tugging off her own jacket and flinging it onto the same pile.

“Exactly,” Elphaba grinned, satisfied with how the night had turned out. How the entire day had turned out. How light everything was, how good it felt. And it’s only day one.

“You’re a menace, have I told you that?” 

“Multiple times.”

Their laughter lingered, soft and warm, until a yawn slipped from one of them, the exhaustion of the day settling in. Without another word, they retreated to their respective beds, slipping under the covers.

But Glinda was still wired, still overthinking, still playing the night over in her head. The quiet of the room made it worse, the shadows stretching a little too eerily across the floor. “You don’t have to turn the lights off tonight,” Elphaba said from her bed, her voice low, her gaze flickering toward the blonde.

Glinda stiffened, startled by the drawl of her voice, “I’m not scared.”

“I’m not saying you are.”

There was a pause, thick and charged, before Glinda turned onto her side with a huff.

“Goodnight, Thropp.”

“Goodnight, Upland.”

Then, just before Elphaba could say another word, Glinda reached over and clicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Chapter Text

Elphaba was awake before she even wanted to be.

No blaring hairdryers. No obnoxious morning routines. No Glinda humming at an ungodly hour. Just… awake.

Maybe it was the lingering thoughts from the night before, the way her mind wouldn’t settle even after exhaustion had dragged her under. Maybe it was the dreams. The kind that had her tossing and turning, half-conscious of the way her body sought out comfort that wasn’t there. Or maybe it was the soft glow of the morning sun slipping in through the cabin windows, gentle but insistent.

Either way, it wasn’t Glinda’s fault this time.

Not that the blonde wasn’t already on her way to becoming a problem, Elphaba noted dryly as she turned her head just in time to see Glinda reaching for her cursed hairdryer.

She groaned internally. Not this early.

Glancing at the nightstand, she scowled when she saw the red numbers blinking 6:13 at her. Too early to deal with Glinda. Too late to fall back asleep. With a heavy sigh, she sat up, stretching out her limbs with a loud yawn, one that startled Glinda so much she jumped, clutching the hairdryer to her chest like a lifeline.

“Oh my Oz—are you actually awake? Am I hallucinating?”

Elphaba squinted at her, still too sluggish to formulate a proper retort. Instead, she just rolled out of bed, crossing the room with the kind of heavy-footed determination only possible before caffeine. She grabbed the first outfit she could find—shorts and a questionably familiar white shirt she was pretty sure belonged to Fiyero at some point.

“Do you know what we’re doing today?” She muttered, mostly to distract herself from the way Glinda’s morning enthusiasm was already threatening her peace. “I don’t,” The other girl hummed, braiding her hair with practiced ease. “Do I look like a counselor to you?”

Elphaba muttered something under her breath, something unflattering, judging by the way Glinda narrowed her eyes at her, and made her way into the bathroom before the blonde could start an argument early in the morning.

The shower was quick, the cold water doing just enough to jolt her into proper wakefulness. It was almost enough to make her forget about the previous night, about the way their laughter had lingered even after the adrenaline wore off, about the way Glinda had turned off the lamp before she could insist otherwise.

Almost.

But she didn’t let her mind stay there. Didn’t let it wander too far into places she wasn’t sure she’d come back from. Instead, she stepped out of the shower, exhaling sharply, ready to start the day. Or, at the very least, ready for coffee before Glinda drove her insane.

Coffee. Oh, how she needed it.

“Let’s go, slowpoke!” Elphaba called out, already at the door, shoving her feet into her sneakers. Just the thought of caffeine was able to keep her going, grunting as she wobbled on one foot to get it inside her shoe. 

She waited for the inevitable response, the snarky remark, the eye-roll in verbal form, maybe even a stubborn little “Artichoke!” in return just to be annoying.

But it didn’t come.

No arguing. No sarcastic commentary. No anything. Just silence. Complete and utter silence.

Elphaba frowned. She knew Glinda. Knew her like the back of her hand. Silence wasn’t natural, not for her. She’s pretty sure she would rather die than keep silent. “Glinda?” she called again, a little more cautiously this time.

Still nothing.

Her stomach did this weird little drop as she turned back toward their room, expecting to find the blonde still at her vanity, fussing over some strand of hair that dared to be out of place.

But the room was empty.

So was the small common area.

She was… gone?

Did she actually leave her?

It shouldn’t have stung the way it did. It was petty, really, to feel even the slightest bit hurt over something so small. But she couldn’t help it. Because they were getting somewhere, right? She thought last night had… shifted something.

Now, her entire expression was textbook sulking. Shoulders hunched. Frown so dramatic that it would put even Boq’s worst moments to shame. Even the way she locked the door felt tragic.

She sighed, shoving the keys in her pocket, about to start dragging her feet toward the mess hall when her voice floats through the air, “Aw, don’t be too sad. I didn’t leave you.”

Elphaba jerked to a stop, her head snapping up so fast it was a miracle she didn’t pull something.

There she was.

Leaning against the railing, looking far too pleased with herself, Glinda grinned. Smile bright, smug and menacing.

Oh, she was enjoying this. She must’ve been standing there the whole time, waiting for Elphaba to come outside and… Of course she did. She planned this.

Elphaba narrowed her eyes. Petty. Vengeful. Also in a way that screams “menace!”

“You little—”

Glinda’s eyes sparkled with mischief, tilting her head like she wasn’t an agent of chaos. “What?” She asked, all faux innocence, her braid swaying against the morning breeze, “It’s payback. You scared me last night.”

The taller girl rolled her eyes, biting back the relief that she hadn’t actually been abandoned again. That she hadn’t—

Nope. Not thinking about that.

With an exaggerated huff, she shoved the cabin keys against Glinda’s chest—lightly—just enough to make a point. “Let’s just go.”

Glinda laughed, grabbing the keys to stop it from falling and putting them inside her own pocket, following the other girl into the mess hall. 

She was practically skipping beside her, humming a tune of a song that Elphaba couldn’t be bothered to think of. She just wanted to eat, to sit down and get coffee.

And, for her part, the blonde notices that. Notice the way she’s still slouching despite being awake for over half an hour, for still having that tired look on her face. In the empty hall, she pushes Elphaba to the right, towards the drinks table, “Just get me a coffee, I’ll handle the food.”

Elphaba doesn’t argue with her on that. Trudging to the drinks table while Glinda filled their plates with contrastingly different things. Which is funny, considering the fact that the blonde would steal most of the other girl’s food anyway.

Something was off, though.

Not the coffee fetching, that was expected. Not even the contrast of their plates, Glinda, with her breakfast buffet of crispy bacon and perfectly portioned eggs; Elphaba, with whatever questionable concoction she deemed acceptable to consume first thing in the morning—which, Glinda knew she liked, by the way. Hence, said mess.

No. It was the orange. The complete absence of an apple in favor of something that requires effort.

Elphaba clocked it immediately, digging into her tater tots with… Whatever the hell this is. It was appealing to her and it was edible, don’t question her. “No apple this time?”

Glinda barely glanced up, shoving an unreasonably large bite of bacon into her mouth, “Peel it for me?”

And, yeah. Okay. That was weird. Not the request itself—Glinda always asked someone to do the tedious work for her. She loathed peeling oranges, always complaining about the way the pith stuck under her nails. But that was the thing—no one else ever did it for her.

She tested it. She knew.

Fiyero? Would peel it, but only so he could steal the fruit for himself. Boq? Politely declined. Pfannee? Blatantly said no. Random dates? Claimed they didn’t know how, which was pathetic on so many levels.

But Elphaba? Elphaba did it without question.

Her utensils clattered against her plate as she picked up the fruit, long nails digging effortlessly into the rind. The sharp scent of citrus filled the air, and something in Glinda’s chest squeezed.

Because, ugh. It was nothing. It was just an orange.

But the act of peeling it? The effortless way Elphaba’s fingers worked through the fruit, separating the sections with care, unthinking, automatic, like it wasn’t even a decision, just muscle memory. 

Glinda felt warm all over. She was staring. She knew she was staring.

And Elphaba, of course, noticed.

“Woah, you’re quiet.” She teased, lifting a brow as she peeled the last section, placing it carefully on the plate, “Are you dying? Did you choke on the bacon?”

That snapped Glinda out of it. She shot her a glare before reaching for her coffee, sipping deliberately through the straw. “I just have manners and don’t speak while my mouth is full.”

Elphaba snorted, taking another spoonful of her breakfast, smiling as it filled her, “Right…”

And then, casually, effortlessly, the blonde reached for the orange and offered, “Can I share this with you?”

Like it wasn’t a loaded question. Like it wasn’t some kind of undeniable proof that she knew Elphaba was going to get half of it anyway. Apples were her favorite, oranges were Elphaba’s.

Green lips twitched. She took a piece, popping it into her mouth. “Definitely.”

They eat in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional scrape of chairs and the soft hum of conversation from the other campers. Every now and then, their eyes meet in quick glances, fleeting smiles, before they both look away.

For once, they’re grateful their friends show up when they do. Though, now that Glinda thinks about it, it’s a little suspicious. Why is it that she and Elphaba are always left alone?

“Is that an orange?” Fiyero squints as he drops into the seat beside Glinda, reaching for the neatly peeled fruit, only for Elphaba to swat his hand away. “Get your own. And peel your own.”

He pouts but recovers quickly, snatching a grape off Nessa’s plate instead. The conversation drifts into usual morning chatter, gossip, speculations about the day’s schedule. Pfannee mentions something about paint being involved, gesturing at the ratty T-shirt he’s wearing as proof.

Then, inevitably, the conversation shifts back to them. “How was patrol last night?” ShenShen asks, tilting her head in curiosity. “Should I be worried if I get assigned?”

Elphaba smirks at the memory just as Glinda’s entire body tenses. From across the table, Boq’s eyes narrow. “Wait… Were you guys the ones running last night?” He rubs his temple like the sudden realization physically pains him. “You were so loud.”

Pfannee perks up. “Ooooh, tea.”

“I didn’t think much of it at the time,” Boq continues, “But… Did something happen?”

Glinda shoots Elphaba a warning glare, but the green girl just grins wider. “She was scared,” She announces smugly. The blonde kicks her under the table in retaliation, “Hey!” Elphaba yelps, rubbing her shin. “And you were clinging to me like your life depended on it!”

Silence.

The worst kind of silence.

Pfannee’s eyes glow. Nessa bites her lip, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Fiyero’s gaze flicks between them, a slow, knowing smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. Glinda opens her mouth, ready to argue, ready to deny, deflect, destroy, but her brain short-circuits and, instead, she blurts out: “…It did.”

Another beat of silence.

Then Pfannee gasps like he’s just witnessed a live proposal.

Fiyero lets out a low whistle.

Boq looks at his plate like it might provide him with emotional support.

And Nessa? Nessa straight-up loses it.

Elphaba is smug. She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, basking in Glinda’s mortification. “Well, obviously,” she drawls. “What else were you supposed to do? Let the hockey-mask-wearing murderer get you?”

Pfannee chokes, fear locking him in place, “Wait—so there actually was someone?!”

“No,” Elphaba says, and the words that leave her are enough to send Glinda into the psychiatric ward, “Just my horrified ex-girlfriend.”

They’ve never used those words before. Never said it out loud or in the presence of the other. 

Glinda, fully red now, grabs what’s left of the orange and eats the entire thing in one bite.

Breakfast is over. And it’s evident in the way Glinda storms off in a flurry of pink. 

They expected Elphaba to stay behind, basking in her victory, smirking at her own antics like she always did. But instead, she’s already up, shoving her tray away with an impatient scrape of plastic against wood, swiping a pack of gummy bears and a bottle of water before striding after Glinda.

The blonde is easy to find. She’s tucked away at the very back of the bleachers, perched high enough to be out of reach, half-hidden in the cool shade of a tree. Her arms loop around her knees, her braid slipping over her shoulder, swaying slightly as the wind picks up. She looks so at ease, so perfectly detached, but Elphaba knows her too well. Knows the little signs. From the way she fidgets with the hem of her sleeve, the slight pout in her lips that she’s probably unaware of. She’s sulking.

And that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. But it is.

Elphaba exhales and climbs up to meet her, boots knocking softly against the metal. She doesn’t sit just yet, doesn’t say anything. Instead, she simply extends a bag of gummy bears into her line of sight, shaking it slightly like an offering.

Brown eyes flick up to hers, narrowed at first, but the pout deepens, plush lips pressing together before pushing out just the slightest bit more. And Oz, that should not be cute. But again, it is.

Elphaba swallows back the thought, smiling softly at her, “Peace offering?” she says instead, trying for casualness. Glinda doesn’t reach for the bag. Instead, she tilts her head, studying her. “This, and I get to braid your hair.”

The taller girl instinctively lifts a hand to the mess of her braids, fingers threading through them self-consciously. Glinda watches, unimpressed, already seeing where this is going. “Don’t even start with me,” she warns, voice warm but firm. “We both know it’s a disaster.”

She drops her hand with a sigh, but her lips twitch like she might be amused. She huffs and plops herself down in front of the blonde without further complaint.

Glinda shifts behind her, gathering the long, thick braids into her hands with a quiet hum. Her fingers move with familiarity, brushing along Elphaba’s scalp as she begins to undo and rework them. She’s quick and efficient and practiced.

Because this isn’t new.

Glinda had learned how to braid Elphaba’s hair for her two months into dating, sitting cross-legged behind her on dorm room floors, standing behind her in front of mirrors, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she was done. She had gone to salons, watched videos, even called her mother for advice, because Elphaba deserved the effort. Because Glinda wanted to be the effort.

And now, even in the wake of everything, she still is.

Elphaba exhales slowly, the tension in her shoulders melting away as she leans into the gentle tug of fingers against her scalp. Glinda watches the way her body shifts, her muscles unwinding, posture softening. She feels it too, that sense of familiarity, the quiet ease that sneaks in when they aren’t paying attention.

“Don’t go with them later,” Elphaba murmurs after a long stretch of silence. Glinda’s hands still for half a second before continuing. She doesn’t turn around, but Glinda can hear her watching the campers, their friends. “Stay here with me,” she adds, voice lower, like she doesn’t want the words to carry too far. “In the back.”

Glinda smirks faintly, fingers still threading through her hair. “Are you trying to have me all to yourself?”

At that, Elphaba lets out a quiet huff, something that isn’t quite a laugh but close enough. She finally opens her eyes and glances over her shoulder, brow quirking. “No, I’m just asking you to be on board.”

The blonde ties off the last braid, smoothing her hand over it before leaning forward, chin propped on Elphaba’s shoulder, “On board for what?”

From afar, they looked like replicas of those first year students. At the back during events, all in their own little world.

Elphaba doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she nods toward the group, the ones who’ve been strangely… Coordinated lately, “Haven’t you noticed?” She asks, “Our friends are always together. And they’re excluding us.”

Glinda hums, shifting slightly, “Maybe they just got sick of us.” Elphaba scoffs. “Doubt it.”

Of course she had noticed. It had been bothering her before the other girl even mentioned it, a small itch at the back of her mind. But hearing Elphaba say it aloud makes it feel… Intentional. Like maybe it isn’t just coincidence.

She purses her lips. “So what are you suggesting?”

The green girl turns fully now, studying her like she’s sizing her up. Then she lifts her chin slightly, eyes glinting with something conspiratorial, “Do you like winning?”

The question is absurd, delivered with the kind of slow, knowing confidence that makes Glinda giggle, “Obviously.”

“I’m offering you a truce.” Elphaba extends her hand, fingers curling slightly in invitation. “We kick their ass as revenge.” Glinda doesn’t hesitate. She dusts off her hands, takes Elphaba’s wrist, and pulls her up beside her, grinning. “Deal.”

From below, Nessa watches her sister and her ex warily, fingers tightening around the arm of her chair. “They’re plotting,” She whispers, as if they could hear her from that far up.

Boq, now thoroughly paranoid, follows her gaze. Elphaba and Glinda are sitting close, heads bent together, whispering like co-conspirators. The air around them feels… different. Like something shifted. Like something is brewing.

“They’re always plotting,” Pfannee says, unimpressed, flipping through his smuggled phone. “What’s new?”

“What’s new,” Boq hisses, “Is that it’s directed at us. That’s not good!”

Pfannee and ShenShen don’t look particularly concerned. Fiyero, reclining in his seat with his arms behind his head, doesn’t even care—probably because he knows he has immunity. Nessa, however, is caught between smugness and unease.

She just doesn’t know what’s in store for them.

The day’s activities are light, just a paintball war between the two groups of campers. Simple. Supposedly fun. But Elphaba and Glinda make sure they’re placed on opposing teams, deliberately separating from their so-called friends.

“They’re going to regret this,” Glinda says, rubbing her hands together like a comic book villain.

Elphaba smirks. “We are going to make sure of that.”

The war isn’t until the afternoon, which leaves them with a few hours to themselves. Convenient. The perfect window to strategize. They’ve been purposely avoiding their friends all morning, and they don’t plan on breaking that streak now.

Glinda insists they grab supplies before heading to the pier, the supplies being her notebook, a pencil, and, for some reason, a snack. They settle at the far edge of the dock, feet dangling above the water. It's far enough that their friends won’t dare disturb them.

Elphaba leans forward, hands planted on the wood, her brows drawn in thought, “Alright. Where do we start?” She looks… serious. Like she’s about to prepare a full PowerPoint presentation. It’s cute. Glinda bites back a grin.

Instead of answering, she flips open her notebook and dramatically scrawls across the top of the page: Operation: Revenge.

Elphaba, skeptical, watches as she underlines it… Twice. Twice, mind you! And as the blonde taps the page, she suddenly realizes how Glinda’s priorities are different, “First things first—nicknames.”

The green girl blinks, taken aback, “What?”

“Code names,” Glinda clarifies, grinning, “Like in Top Gun.”

At that, Elphaba exhales sharply, remembering how confused Glinda was throughout the film, “You mean the movie I showed you?” She asks, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes, and I took notes,” she says matter-of-factly. “I’ll be Bubble.”

“Of course you will.”

Silence.

Elphaba does not offer a name for herself. Glinda, however, is already scheming.

“You can be Green Bean.” She smirks, ready to write it down, until Elphaba swiftly snatches the pencil from her grip. “Oh, very funny,” She deadpans.

Glinda rests her chin in her hands, watching expectantly, “Well? What’ll it be, then?”

Elphaba exhales through her nose, staring at the open notebook like it personally offended her. Then, reluctantly, she mutters, “Broom.”

It’s so… endearing, that Glinda had to tease her for it, pretending to be confused as she tilts her head, “Like… the sound a car makes?”

Elphaba levels her with a look, “I meant like, you know,” She gestures vaguely, “A broom.”

Glinda gasps dramatically, a laugh bubbling in her chest, “Did you just make a witch joke?”

A groan could be heard from the green girl, dragging a hand down her face. “Are we going to plan or not?” Glinda giggles but decides to let her off the hook—for now.

Their plans are solid. Almost too solid.

Separately, Elphaba and Glinda are already menaces in their own right, two deviants no one in their right mind would want to be up against. Together? They’re a nightmare.

Glinda has gone full tactician, sketching out battle formations in her notebook, complete with tiny doodles: a broom and a witch’s hat for Elphaba, a tiara and a bubble for herself. Several scenarios have been laid out, from ambushes, fake retreats, Elphaba literally camouflaging into the foliage. No stone left unturned.

And now? It’s time for the next phase of their plan.

Theft.

They have four hours before lunch, which is plenty of time to get what they need. Using the camp map as their guide, they make a beeline for the supply shed.

No counselors. No witnesses. Perfect.

“This is illegal,” Elphaba mutters as she pushes the door open. Immediately, she sneezes because of course the place is covered in dust and cobwebs. Glinda isn’t faring much better, sputtering as she flicks on her flashlight. “We’re borrowing,” She corrects, “We just need vests and ammo.”

They scan the room until they spot what they came for, a row of paintball guns and stacks of padded vests. Jackpot.

Elphaba smirks, striding toward them, “Is your bag ready?”

Glinda, always prepared, holds it open while Elphaba starts loading it up with four canisters of paintballs, handed over swiftly, then two of the thickest vests available. Elphaba picks at the fabric and grimaces. “That color is horrific.”

The blonde pauses mid-stuffing, eyes gleaming, “What did you do to Elphaba Thropp?” She gasps, “Are you making fashion comments?”

“I’m just saying,” Elphaba grumbles, shoving the last vest in. “It’s not exactly the soft material you’re used to. I don’t want to hear you whining halfway through.”

Glinda zips up her bag and grins, heaving it to her back, “I wouldn’t care if we’re winning.” Elphaba exhales through her nose. She knows this is an argument she won’t win.

They slip out quietly, making sure to leave no trace.

Next up: finding good hiding spots.

And, according to Glinda, the best way to do that is to flirt. Elphaba strongly disagrees.

Unfortunately, she’s already being ignored.

They spot one of the younger male counselors near the mess hall, and before Elphaba can object, Glinda is flipping her hair over her shoulder and shoving the bag into Elphaba’s arms. “Watch this,” She says, flashing a grin before sauntering over.

It’s just a strategy. A calculated move. A means to an end.

Elphaba knows that.

And yet…

She watches as Glinda giggles. As she tilts her head just so, smiling up at him from beneath thick lashes, her hand coming to rest lightly against his arm. And Elphaba feels…

She doesn’t want to name it. Because that would make it real. But it creeps in anyway, sharp and suffocating, curling around her like a vice.

She grips the bag tighter, fingers digging in until they hurt. This shouldn’t bother her. They’re not together anymore. Glinda can flirt with whoever she wants. Can touch whoever she wants.

Elphaba has no right to feel like this.

No right to feel her stomach twist at the sight of that idiot counselor laughing at something Glinda said. No right to feel like she wants to shove herself between them and remind Glinda who she used to smile at like that.

But she does.

And it’s pathetic.

Glinda shouldn’t still have this power over her. Shouldn’t be able to pull these reactions out of her so easily, so effortlessly. And yet, here she is, standing stiffly in the middle of camp, scowling hard enough to burn holes into the back of this guy’s head.

It’s stupid.

Because this isn’t even real. It’s just Glinda playing a part, just a little game to get what they need, but it looks real.

Too easy. Too natural.

Like something she’s done before.

Like something she could do again.

Elphaba clenches her jaw, teeth grinding together. Get over it, she tells herself. It’s done. She’s not yours anymore.

She stares down at the bag, forcing herself to breathe. And then finally, Glinda bounces back to her side, practically glowing. “So!” She beams, “I know where to hide now!”

Elphaba exhales sharply through her nose, “Let’s just go.”

Glinda blinks at her tone, tilting her head, completely unaware, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She is not fine.

Glinda shrugs, linking their arms as they walk off, entirely oblivious. Meanwhile, Elphaba does not look back at the counselor.

But if she did, it would absolutely still be with murderous intent.

She calms down a little later when Glinda reaches upward to wipe the sweat off of her brow, smiling at her like everything’s okay in the world. And maybe, it might be. 

When lunch comes, their faces are determined, ready to misdirect their friends into doing something to their advantage. The chicken tenders and burgers are almost left untouched as Elphaba sighs, cradling her calf, “I think I injured this yesterday.”

Concerned and intrigued, Fiyero frowns, “Do you think you can run?” He asks, mostly because he is concerned, partially because he wants to know if they had a shot at winning. The dark haired girl shrugs, “I’ll probably stay behind later. Maybe play defense.”

She is not playing defense. But Fiyero doesn’t know that, and she could practically see his eyes twinkle at her words.

On the other side of the table, Glinda is fanning herself, shaking her head at any mention of the paintball match, “We just talked,” She says, smirking at the coos from Pfannee, “Although, with what we talked about… I don’t think I can focus on the game that much.”

Their friends think they’re not invested, the smirks they send each other from across the table says differently. Game on. 

They push their trays forward, barely touching their food, and Elphaba stretches, just enough to favor her calf, hissing under her breath. Fiyero, sitting across from her, raises an eyebrow, but before he can question it, Glinda makes a dramatic little sound of exasperation, tossing her napkin onto her plate.

“Oh, for Oz’s sake,” She groans, pushing back her chair, “I knew this was going to happen.” Elphaba frowns, standing up as well, pretending to wince as she stood, “What are you on about now?”

Glinda turns to her with a look, one of those piercing, arms-crossed, one-eyebrow-raised looks that she used to throw at Elphaba when they were together. It’s the kind of look that once made Elphaba backtrack on whatever stupid thing she was saying just to avoid the inevitable lecture.

It still makes her stomach flip.

“You,” Glinda says, voice sharp. “Acting like you’re not about to be completely useless in this game.”

The green girl’s glare flickers with something amused for just a second before she schools her face into something equally frustrated, “I never said I was useless.”

“You basically did!” Glinda flaps her hand toward her, “Oh, I’ll just stay behind,” She mocks, voice going a little lower, a lot more broody, sending Pfannee and ShenShen into quiet giggles. “I’ll probably just play defense,” She continues, rolling her eyes so dramatically it’s honestly impressive.

Fiyero raises his eyebrows at Elphaba, scratching the side of his head, “I mean… You did say that.”

Elphaba grits her teeth, willing herself to stay in character, “It’s called strategy.”

“Oh, please!” Glinda scoffs, stepping forward, her hands moving with every word. “This is so typical. You just refuse to admit when you’re at a disadvantage. You’d rather throw the whole match just to prove a point!”

Something about the way she says it, the bite in her voice, the way she gestures toward Elphaba like she’s always been like this… It makes something cold settle in Elphaba’s stomach. They’re pretending. She knows that. But the words land too well.

And the kicker? Glinda isn’t backing down, “You know what your problem is? You never let anyone help you.”

That one hits. Like she just shot her. Because… Because yeah. 

It feels real now.

The mess hall feels like it tilts for a second, like the argument isn’t just a performance anymore. Elphaba’s pulse stutters. “You know what your problem is?” She snaps, stepping closer, her voice just a little too sharp, “You don’t trust anyone to do things their way. If it’s not your way, it’s wrong.”

Something flickers in Glinda’s expression—real, unfiltered emotion, just for a second. And while the other girl’s stomach clenches because she knew she shouldn’t have said that… She was unable to take it back.

Nessa gasps dramatically. Boq’s eyes are darting back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis match.

Glinda’s jaw clenches. Her voice dips, lower than before, “Well. Maybe if you ever talked to people instead of assuming you had to do everything alone, you wouldn’t have to struggle so much.”

Elphaba swallows hard. Her ears are hot.

It’s just a game.

So why does it feel like they’re arguing about something else?

The mess hall is silent.

And Elphaba tears her gaze away first, turning on her heel, “You are so dramatic.”

“And you are so stubborn!” Glinda calls after her, her voice too steady, like she’s forcing herself not to waver. The doors slam behind them.

A beat.

Then Boq, still holding a half-eaten fry, whispers, “Do we want to make sure they’re not killing each other?”

ShenShen hums. “They need to figure this out on their own.”

Nessa, on the other hand, just squints suspiciously at the doors, watching the last swish of Glinda’s ponytail disappear. She doesn’t buy it. 

Meanwhile, outside, Elphaba barely makes it two steps out the door before Glinda’s hand grabs her wrist, yanking her behind the wall of the mess hall.

They’re both breathing harder than necessary. Glinda’s fingers are still curled around Elphaba’s wrist. Her nails are digging in just a little. “Was it convincing?” She asks, voice a touch too casual.

Elphaba exhales through her nose, shoving her hands into her pockets, “You calling me useless? Yeah, I’d say it was convincing.”

Her voice had a tilt to it, and she wanted to say more, to ask her why she said those things, ask her why she had to bring it up. But she bites her tongue.

Glinda tilts her head, searching Elphaba’s face. There used to be a time where she would reach out and cup her face, where she would kiss her lips and ask her, “You okay?”

She doesn’t do that now, but Elphaba answers her anyway, “I’m fine.”

Glinda watches her for another second before she nods, releasing her wrist. “Well. That was fun.”

Elphaba huffs, shaking her head, “Let’s just go before someone finds us.” Glinda falls into step beside her. She hesitates, then bumps her shoulder against Elphaba’s—just slightly, just enough to be felt.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right?” She murmurs, even though she knew she wasn’t pretending back there, that she was just as upset, that it was something she wanted to say all throughout their spats. 

Elphaba keeps her eyes ahead.

They return to the pier just as noon hits, the sun hotter than either of them had anticipated. The sky is a striking, endless blue, the lake shimmering beneath it, but all Elphaba can focus on is the unbearable heat pressing down on her. She groans, dramatically throwing herself onto the wooden dock like she’s perishing on the spot. Like she’s going to melt. 

Glinda, ever graceful, takes a seat beside her with far less theatrics, crossing her legs neatly as she rummages through her pockets. A moment later, she pulls out a small stash of chips and candy, stolen from the mess hall, obviously, and shakes the bag in front of Elphaba’s face.

“Snack?” She offers sweetly, brown eyes glinting under the harsh rays of the sun. Elphaba eyes her suspiciously but takes the offering anyway. She should be hungry, but her stomach is still twisted up from earlier, from the fight they staged, the way Glinda had looked at her when she snapped. Like she was falling apart right in front of her.

Like she had before.

Like she had the night Elphaba let her go.

“Elphaba.”

She startles out of her thoughts just as Glinda pokes the side of her head, a teasing lilt in her voice. Unaware of the storm in Elphaba’s head and blissfully ignoring the one in her own.

“Yes?”

And then, without warning, Glinda flicks a few drops of water at her face. Elphaba recoils, blinking as the droplets drip down her cheek, “What the hell was that for?!”

“You looked like you were overheating,” The blonde shrugs, failing to suppress a giggle, “Just helping out.”

At that, Elphaba narrows her eyes, “Oh, you think that’s funny?”

“Very.”

Big mistake.

Before Glinda can react, Elphaba snatches her water bottle, uncaps it, and gives it a firm squeeze. A cold stream of water splashes directly onto Glinda’s face. The girl shrieks, scrambling back as she wipes at her dripping cheek, “Elphaba!”

She’s met with a smirk while the other girl tosses the bottle aside with a casualness that infuriates her, “You looked like you needed to cool down.”

“Oh, you’re dead.”

Without thinking, Glinda shoves her hard. There’s a split second where Elphaba’s eyes widen, as if she just realized what’s happening, and then she’s tumbling backward off the dock with a loud splash.

For her part, Glinda gasps in shock, slapping a hand over her mouth.

And then she bursts out laughing.

It’s the kind of laughter that shakes her whole body, breathless and delighted, like she just pulled off the greatest trick in the world. She throws her head back, giggling so hard she almost topples over herself, hands on her stomach, feet kicking at the dock.

In the water, Elphaba resurfaces with an unbelievable look of betrayal, water dripping from her hair, her soaked shirt clinging to her frame. “Hey!” she yells, voice half-indignant, half-breathless.

Glinda can barely see through her tears of laughter, but when she does, her breath catches in her throat.

Elphaba is glowing.

The afternoon sun catches on the droplets sliding down her green skin, shimmering as they cling to her arms, her collarbone, her cheekbones. Her braids, normally wild, are slicked back, exposing the sharp angles of her face, her lips parted as she pants from the sudden cold.

She is—

Oh.

Oh no.

But there’s no time to process anything, because suddenly, Elphaba is moving. Before Glinda can even think about running, long fingers curl around her wrist, tugging her forward. She yelps, hands scrambling for purchase, but Elphaba is fast, and suddenly she’s being lifted.

An arm hooks under her knees, another braces against her back, and in one smooth motion, Elphaba picks her up. Glinda gasps, clutching at her shoulders, eyes wide. “Elphaba Thropp, you put me down this instant—”

“Oh, I will.” Elphaba smirks, her grip tightening. “But first—”

“Don’t you dare—”

And then she jumps.

The scream that rips from Glinda’s throat is high-pitched and furious, immediately cut off as they both plunge into the lake. The water is shockingly cold, but she’s not even thinking about that, she’s thinking about revenge.

When she resurfaces, sputtering, she immediately turns to glare at Elphaba, who is already swimming backward, laughing. “Elphaba!”

“What?” She smirks, treading water a few feet away, “You started it.”

“You are the worst,” Glinda seethes, pushing her hair back, her perfect curls now damp and sticking to her face, “I can’t believe you just—”

Elphaba’s eyes glint, not just because of her very successful payback, but because of her.

Because of Glinda.

Because even in the middle of a ridiculous water fight, even drenched and indignant, she is so beautiful it makes Elphaba ache.

The way her brown eyes are locked onto her, full of determination and mischief, even as her lips curl into that devastatingly perfect smile. The way her skin glows, rivalling the sun itself, like she belongs in the light and the light belongs to her.

The fact that she can look this breathtaking, even with her hair soaked and clinging to her cheeks, makes something twist deep in Elphaba’s chest.

She shouldn’t feel this way. Can’t feel this way. They broke up. They’re exes.

But then Glinda flicks water at her again, giggling as she does it, and—

Elphaba’s heart stutters.

Because fuck, she still does.

And she has to distract herself with a half assed remark, splashing more water into her like she didn’t just have a revelation unfold right in front of her, “You gonna cry about it?”

Glinda lunges at her at that, and the next thing she knows, they’re splashing at each other like little kids, laughing so hard they can barely breathe, chasing each other around the water with the kind of energy that makes time feel infinite.

From the shore, Pfannee squints, tilting his head. “Are they… Drowning each other?”

Beside him, Nessa flips a page in her book, completely uninterested. “They’ll survive.”

By the time they’ve had enough, by the time their limbs are aching from too much splashing, when their cheeks hurt from too much smiling, Elphaba finally pulls herself out of the water, dripping and breathless. She shivers as the breeze sweeps over her soaked clothes, but she barely notices. Her focus is on Glinda, who’s still in the water, wringing out her braid, grinning like she won something.

Elphaba shakes the thought away and rushes to the nearest supply hut, grabbing two towels before tossing one to the blonde, “I’ll shower in Nessa’s cabin. Meet me on the course?”

Glinda catches the towel, her hands brushing against the fabric before pulling it to her chest. She looks up at Elphaba, eyes shining, lips curling into the kind of smile that makes Elphaba's stomach flip, like she knows something Elphaba doesn’t, “Got it,” She says simply, but her voice is warm, lingering.

And Elphaba, standing there, soaked and freezing, realizes that somehow, despite everything, she’s still burning.

Glinda isn't exactly thrilled about the added bulk beneath her oversized shirt. The vest is heavy, and the holsters rattle with the two extra canisters of ammo Elphaba had so sneakily strapped to her while she wasn't paying attention. “Do I look like a walking arsenal to you?” She huffs, adjusting the strap.

“Well, yes,” Elphaba replies, deadpan, while sliding her own vest into place under her oldest shirt. Her movements are practiced, precise, like she’s done this a hundred times before. The game doesn’t start for a few more minutes, but the air is already buzzing. Even with the sheer number of campers scattered around, only one group matters.

Their friends.

Fiyero is tying a bandana around his forehead like he’s preparing for battle. Nessa’s wheelchair is perched atop some weird wooden sniper tower, her expression smug as she surveys the field. Boq, for some reason, is now wearing goggles. Pfannee has an entire holster for drinks, because of course he does. And ShenShen has committed. She’s got war paint streaked across her face like she’s leading a full-scale invasion.

Elphaba crosses her arms, amused. “You think we can take them out?”

Glinda hums thoughtfully, her fingers smoothing over her freshly braided hair. Somehow, even in her worst clothes, she looks perfect, as if she wasn't just soaked in lake water an hour ago. She tilts her head at Elphaba, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “Are you doubting our foolproof plan?”

Elphaba rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch. “Wouldn't dare.”

She steps toward the middle of the course, boots sinking slightly into the dirt. The whistle hasn’t blown yet, but the tension is already thick in the air.

They’re handed their guns.

One whistle. Time to disappear.

Two whistles. Time to hunt.

The plan is simple: Elphaba will take out Fiyero and ShenShen. Glinda will handle Boq and Pfannee. Nessa—who thinks she’s untouchable on that damn tower—will be taken down at the same time.

They know their targets. They know their escape routes. They know exactly what they’re doing.

Now, all that’s left is the game.

The first whistle blows and Elphaba and Glinda exchange a glance before vanishing into the trees, slipping away from their teammates like ghosts. Glinda bites back a joke about Elphaba literally blending in.

The second whistle.

The game is on. Paintballs explode around them almost instantly. Shouts, laughter, and the telltale pop pop pop of shots firing echo through the course. Elphaba ducks behind a tree, rolling her shoulders as she scans the field. Then, movement. Fiyero, creeping along the dirt path with the worst attempt at stealth she’s ever seen.

She grins. Too easy. Elphaba lifts her gun, finger curling around the trigger when, suddenly— pop!

Something hits the tree right next to her head. She flinches, whirling around. And there she was, Glinda in all her glory, standing ten feet away, smirking like she didn’t just almost take out Elphaba, “Oops.”

Elphaba glares at her, eyes lingering on the paint on the tree, “What. The. Hell.”

The blonde grins like she just invented chaos, walking towards her quietly, “Just making sure you’re awake.”

“I—” Elphaba exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose, “You do realize we’re on the same team, right?”

“For now,” Glinda sing-songs before skipping off into the trees, tossing her braid over her shoulder. What the fuck? 

Elphaba scowls after her, gaze returning to her target. Unbelievable.

She returns her focus to Fiyero, still sneaking like an idiot, oblivious to her presence.

Elphaba lifts her gun, ready to shoot him at any given moment, and then, from behind another tree, Glinda’s voice sings, “Ohhh, Fiyerooo!”

Elphaba freezes. Fiyero does too, spinning wildly, his gun raised, eyebrows lifted just enough, “What?”

“I just love how serious you’re taking this game,” The blonde gushes, stepping into view. She rests a dainty hand on his chest, batting her lashes, “So focused. So determined.”

And ever the flirt, he grins widely, suddenly dropping his gun and his guard down as he nods, “Oh, of course, darling.”

Elphaba seethes from her spot, clenches her jaw as she holds the gun tighter, aims it right at his stupid bandana instead of his chest like she originally planned. 

She knows what this is. This is payback for earlier. And Glinda just knew that Elphaba was so close to losing her mind when she flirted with that counselor earlier. Now, Glinda is deliberately using it against her.

The girl clenches her jaw as Glinda giggles, letting her fingers trail over Fiyero’s vest, “I mean, look at you. A natural warrior.”

Fiyero is still grinning, “Well, you know, I—”

Pop!

A paintball slams into his bandana, the back of his head now splattered with green paint. He yelps, clutching his head and staring at the paint on his hands, “Ow!”

Elphaba lowers her gun with a smirk, finally making her presence known, meanwhile Glinda barely hides her laughter behind her hand.

Fiyero gapes at her, “Did you just shoot me while I was being seduced?” At his words, Elphaba rolls her eyes, settling on Glinda who is now grinning widely, “Please, you were falling for it.”

He gestures wildly at his now paint-covered bandana, “How did you not even hesitate?”

“She never does,” Glinda teases, winking at Elphaba before disappearing into the trees again. As soon as she’s gone, she raises her gun again, just enough that it presses against his chest. He visibly gulps, eyes wide as she leans closer, “I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot anyone that tries to flirt with my ex.”

Then she’s gone before he could make something out of it. 

Elphaba presses deeper into the woods, moving like a shadow, the perfect hunter. Her gun is ready, senses sharp, eyes scanning the terrain. The air is thick with heat, but she doesn’t feel it, not when the adrenaline hums through her veins, not when she can hear the distant shouts of their friends getting picked off one by one. Her lips curl slightly. They don’t stand a chance. 

Then… Something rustles behind her. Without hesitation, she turns, firing a single shot. Green paint splatters across the bark of a tree, inches from where Glinda is peeking out. The blonde yelps, stumbling back behind the trunk before peering out, wide-eyed. "Excuse me?!"

Elphaba smirks, adjusting her grip on the gun. “Oops.”

“Oops?!” Glinda steps fully into view now, hands on her hips, outrage painted across her face.
“You aimed at my head!”

Elphaba tilts her head, wiping the end of her gun with the hem of her shirt. “A lucky coincidence?” She watches as Glinda huffs, clearly unimpressed, but before she can fire back some sharp retort, Elphaba’s eyes flicker toward the bushes ahead. There’s movement. Her voice drops, but her eyes gleam. “Target, two o’clock.”

Glinda follows her gaze, lips curling when she spots Boq creeping through the underbrush, completely oblivious. She tilts her head up at Elphaba, whispering, “You wanna do it, or should I?”

Elphaba raises a brow. “You tell me.”

Without another word, Glinda grabs her wrist and pulls her into a crouch behind a thick bush. They press close, knees brushing, bodies tense with focus. Elphaba barely notices the warmth of Glinda against her, not when their guns are already raised, not when their fingers tighten over the triggers. One glance, one shared smirk. 

Twin shots explode across Boq’s back, green and pink paint streaking through his already bright orange hair. He yelps, spinning wildly. “What the—?! Who—?!”

Elphaba and Glinda step out from behind the bushes, grinning like wolves. Boq groans at the sight of them, at the way they’re already looking at each other like they know they’re winning. “Oh, come on! I thought you two hated each other?”

Glinda blows imaginary smoke from the barrel of her gun, voice dripping with amusement. “Another one bites the dust. Don’t you think, partner?”

Elphaba snorts, shaking her head.

Boq glares, stomping away, muttering, “This is so rigged.”

As soon as he’s gone, Elphaba shifts her gaze to Glinda. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Glinda hums, adjusting the strap of her vest, swaying slightly. “Maybe I just like playing with you.”

Elphaba stills. Just for a second. Glinda says it so easily, so thoughtlessly, but it lands deep, like a hook catching onto something she thought she had buried. She opens her mouth, not sure what she’s about to say, when suddenly, a shriek.

They whip their heads around just in time to see Pfannee and ShenShen sprinting across the field, weaving through trees in sheer desperation, dodging paintballs like their lives depend on it.

Glinda gasps, practically vibrating. “Oh, they’re mine!”

Elphaba groans, but she’s already following when Glinda takes off, her golden braid bouncing behind her. It doesn’t take long to corner them near a fallen log, their guns raised, triumphant. Pfannee stops short, breathless, hands flying up in surrender. Beside him, ShenShen drops her gun, turning her back dramatically. “If you’re going to shoot, shoot me from behind!”

Elphaba tilts her head, raising a brow, “Final words?”

Pfannee glares. “I hate you both.”

ShenShen sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Glinda pouts. “That’s so rude.”

Pop!

Pfannee shrieks as a paintball slams into his chest, and ShenShen drops to her knees as if she’s just been taken out in actual battle. Glinda lets out a victorious laugh, but before she can even celebrate properly, something whizzes past her ear.

They duck on instinct.

Elphaba’s head snaps up toward the sniper tower, spotting Nessa perched like a queen, her gun already locking in on them again. Glinda gasps dramatically, clutching Elphaba’s arm. “Did your sister just try to kill us?!”

Elphaba exhales through her nose, “Nope. She tried to kill me.”

“And I just happened to be next to you?”

“Collateral damage.”

Glinda lets out an exaggerated gasp, shoving her lightly before refocusing. Elphaba is already watching the tower with the sharp, assessing eyes of a strategist. “Will we take her out together?”

Glinda grins, voice softer now, but no less certain. “Always.”

And just like that, they move as one.

It’s easier said than done, though. Because Nessa has eyes everywhere, and by the time they’re at the foot of the tower, the battlefield has reset. Fiyero, Boq, Pfannee, and ShenShen are back in play. Four against two.

Elphaba exhales, already running through their dwindling options. Then she mutters, almost absently, “I’ll offer myself.” From beside her, Glinda turns so fast she nearly drops her gun. “What?!” she hisses, voice sharp enough to slice through the tension hanging between them.

The older Thropp keeps her gaze trained ahead, fingers tightening around the strap of her vest. “I’ll be the bait,” she says, casual, like she isn’t suggesting throwing herself directly into the crossfire. “You shoot her.”

Glinda is still staring at her. And then—just as quickly—her entire expression hardens. The sharp set of her jaw, the steel behind her brown eyes. Serious. More serious than Elphaba has seen her all day. “No,” Glinda says, firm. “You're not.”

Elphaba blinks, caught off guard by the intensity in her voice. “I won’t die, princess,” she teases, nudging her slightly, trying to shake off whatever has suddenly settled between them. “Bask in your victory. I promise I’ll come back. Just shoot her.”

Glinda doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even smile. Instead, she looks at Elphaba like she wants to argue. Like she’s considering dragging her down into the dirt and forcing her to stay hidden until they figure out a better plan.

And for a split second, Elphaba almost folds.

But there’s no time.

So she winks. And then she’s gone, slipping out of the trees and into the open like a damn fool.

It works.

Nessa is too hellbent on proving her sister wrong, too focused on showing that whatever scheme she and Glinda have is useless, that she doesn’t even think about the blonde for a second. Which is a big mistake. Because while Nessa is locked onto Elphaba, firing off shots, Elphaba is dodging each one with an almost arrogant ease.

And Glinda?

Glinda is already there, creeping toward the tower, her gun raised.

She finds her mark.

Pop!

Pink splatters against Nessa’s shoulder. For a second, everything is still.

Then, Glinda grins, and the victory crashes over her, so sweet and exhilarating that she laughs, a full, delighted, thrilled giggle as she takes off, running straight for Elphaba.

Elphaba barely has a second to react before Glinda slams into her at full speed.

The force sends them both crashing into the grass, a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. The world tilts, and then Elphaba lands flat on her back, Glinda half on top of her, giggling like she’s eight and just won the biggest prize at the county fair.

“You idiot,” Glinda huffs, still breathless, grinning down at her. “You absolute—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head like she can’t even find the right insult. “Who just runs straight into enemy fire like that? Who does that?”

Elphaba raises a brow, still sprawled out beneath her. “Uh. Me?”

Glinda glares at her. And then—suddenly—she’s laughing again, dropping her forehead against Elphaba’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of her vest. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “You’re impossible,” she mutters.

Elphaba snorts, too happy to be thinking about her words, “And yet you love me.”

The words slip out before she can stop them.

Glinda freezes, the moment is shattered. Elphaba can feel it, the way her body tenses. The way her fingers twitch against her chest. The way her breath catches in her throat, just for a second. And then—Glinda lifts her head, eyes wide, lips parted like she’s about to say something.

But before either of them can acknowledge it, someone groans dramatically from across the field. “Oh, come on,” Fiyero drawls, appearing from behind a tree, his vest splattered with green. “You two again?”

Elphaba sighs, dropping her head back into the dirt. Glinda clears her throat, rolling off of her, sitting up like nothing happened. The game is technically over. They didn’t win, not completely—Oz, their entire team was taken out—but it doesn’t matter. They took out their targets, their friends, and that was enough.

Later, at dinner, they’re met with glares and bitter congratulations, the others sulking over their meals, still covered in streaks of green and pink paint.

At that moment, they both realize, maybe going to this camp is better than they thought.

Chapter Text

They wake up at the same time.

It’s almost comical how Elphaba groans at the sight of the clock, barely cracking open an eye before exhaling sharply, already exhausted by the mere concept of morning. She rubs at her face, muttering something unintelligible about the universe conspiring against her. Too early to be awake, too late to fall back asleep.

Meanwhile, across the room, Glinda is positively glowing. She lets out a delighted little giggle, stretching her arms high above her head as if greeting the sun itself. Victory still hums through her veins from the day before, her mind replaying the paintball game over and over again like a highlight reel. She had tackled Elphaba. Tackled her. And the taller girl had caught her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The thought alone makes her beam as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed. “Good morning,” she greets, voice still thick with sleep but undeniably bright.

Elphaba groans in response, rolling onto her stomach, half her face buried in her pillow. Glinda isn’t deterred, especially when she catches the twitch of the green girl’s lips—almost like she wants to smile but refuses to allow it.

Not that they talk about that. Or anything else from yesterday. They avoid their friends’ teasing questions, sidestep any mention of Elphaba’s little slip-up.

Instead, Elphaba moves on autopilot, dragging herself upright and shuffling toward her closet, her body moving like she’s still half-dreaming. Her limbs protest with every step, stiff from how much running and dodging she had done the day before. “We have to start early,” she mumbles, voice hoarse, “or else we’ll all end up with heat stroke.”

The very mention of the hike makes Glinda frown. She hadn’t been thrilled about it from the start, complaining to ShenShen and Nessa that she simply did not have the patience to trek up a mountain that high. She was all set to stay behind with them, curl up in the sun with a book and pretend to be supportive from a distance—until Fiyero, the menace that he is, signed her up anyway. And Elphaba, because of course.

Now she has no choice.

Elphaba yawns and jerks a thumb toward the bathroom. “I’ll shower.”

Glinda barely hears her, already at her own closet, rifling through it with a critical eye. Her fingers skim over soft fabrics, trying to determine what outfit screams effortlessly chic while still being practical.

“What’s cute hiking wear?” she asks absentmindedly.

Elphaba, standing at the bathroom door, turns just enough to glance at her, deadpan. “Something that won’t make you slip or get you killed.”

Glinda huffs. “You’re no fun.”

Then, ignoring all logic, she pulls out the cutest skirt-and-top combo in her wardrobe.

They don’t bother with hair dryers or any extra effort that morning—just the bare minimum to get to breakfast without incident. No hiding, no fussing, just moving through the motions of waking up, slipping into routine. Neither of them is particularly interested in conversation, ready to sit down and eat in comfortable silence—until Fiyero, Pfannee, and Boq show up looking like death warmed over.

If you looked up losers in the dictionary, Glinda is certain a picture of the three of them would be there.

“Oh, so now you guys join us,” Elphaba grumbles, locking the cabin door with an unnecessarily sharp twist of her wrist. She falls into step beside Glinda without thinking, an old habit, but the blonde is too busy dramatically clinging onto  Pfannee like she’s being dragged to her doom.

Pfannee barely acknowledges it, sighing as he hauls her along like this is just another Tuesday.

Boq is still in the throes of exhaustion, his red hair messily tamed by a headband that Fiyero must have lent him. He’s barely conscious, shoulders brushing against Elphaba’s every few steps as he yawns through his words. “I was woken up against my will,” he grumbles. “I wanted to stay with Nessa.”

The mere mention of her sister makes Elphaba perk up slightly, lips pressing together in something softer than a smirk but not quite a smile. Truth be told, she hadn’t expected much from Boq when he first started courting Nessa, but seeing how much he genuinely wants to be with her—even with all the family baggage that comes with the name Thropp—it’s more than she ever allowed herself to hope for.

She wonders, idly, if this is how Nessa felt when she met Glinda. That little click in her chest, the understanding that this was the person who was going to change everything. Maybe she’ll ask her about it someday.

By the time they make it to the mess hall, it’s later than usual, but they decide to take their food outside today. Glinda is on drink duty, heading off with Pfannee and Fiyero to fetch their respective orders, while Elphaba takes charge of getting their breakfast. Two trays, one for her, one for Glinda, with an apple and an orange neatly placed between them.

The moment the others are gone, she nudges Boq lightly with her elbow. “Hey.”

“Hey, Elphaba,” he replies, voice still thick with sleep as he sinks into the bench beside her. He blinks at her, rubbing the last dregs of exhaustion from his eyes. “Something wrong?”

She shrugs, spinning a fork between her fingers before setting it down. “Just wanted to talk.”

Boq raises a brow but doesn’t press.

“To thank you, actually,” she clarifies, shifting her weight slightly. “For being with Nessa. For just… being patient with her. And everything that comes with her.”

Boq softens, lips curling into a small, genuine smile. “Of course,” he says simply, like it isn’t even a question. “I hope you know my care isn’t just limited to her. I care about you too, y’know?”

Elphaba stills, something unreadable flickering across her face. Then, she chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly as she nods. “I know.”

Boq hesitates for only a beat before adding, “But I can’t care for you the same way Glinda did.”

Elphaba’s fingers tighten around the edge of her tray. “The same way she does ,” Boq corrects, gentler this time. He knows he’s treading dangerous territory, but he doesn’t care—not today. For the past few days, he’s listened to Nessa and Fiyero and Pfannee go on and on about the two of them, but he’s kept his own opinions quiet. Not because they differ from the others, but because he’s always been the softest of the group—the one who approaches things carefully, without force.

The green girl doesn’t look at him. Instead, her gaze flickers toward the mess hall doors, to Glinda standing just beyond them, mid-bicker with Pfannee about something trivial. The way she gestures wildly with her free hand, nose scrunching up the way it always does when she’s being dramatic. The way she laughs at something Fiyero says a second later, but then, as if sensing eyes on her, glances over her shoulder, toward her .

A small, familiar, involuntary smile tugs at Elphaba’s lips before she can stop it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, voice quiet. Boq doesn’t push. He just nods, nudging her elbow lightly. “If you ever do want to talk about it,” he murmurs, “I’m here.”

And then he leaves her alone with her thoughts. 

A sports drink bottle slides across the table just as Glinda sits down, the peculiar electric blue standing out against the dull wooden surface. Elphaba raises a brow, glancing between the bottle and the blonde, who’s casually sipping something pink from her own. Glinda shrugs, setting her drink down.

“No coffee today. Just juice and this.”

Elphaba twists the cap off, inspecting the drink like it might bite her, “Why didn’t you get me juice?” She asks, more out of curiosity than complaint.

Glinda huffs, rolling her eyes as she pulls her plate toward her, the food neatly arranged with clear sections. Elphaba looks down at her own—a chaotic mess that, while edible, is a stark contrast to Glinda’s. The blonde doesn’t even spare her a glance as she responds, “Because I know you hate coconut water, and I know you don’t like apple juice.” She finally looks at her then, a teasing smile playing at her lips. “I know you, Elphaba. I didn’t get my memory wiped just because we broke up.”

Elphaba stills for half a second, fingers curling around the bottle as the words settle deep, lodging themselves somewhere she doesn’t have the patience to unpack right now. First, it was Boq’s quiet little acknowledgment. Now, it’s Glinda. What’s next—Pfannee and Fiyero lining up to throw salt into her wounds?

She exhales sharply, shifting in her seat as she unscrews the cap and takes a long sip, using the drink as an excuse to avoid meeting Glinda’s eyes. “Right.” She clears her throat, then, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere, asks, “Are you guys ready for the hike?”

“Are you?” Pfannee retorts, adjusting his glasses so aggressively that they nearly slip off his face. “Because I’m not.”

Elphaba sighs, glancing around the table, suddenly realizing just what kind of company she’s stuck with for this trek. Fiyero and Boq she can manage, and she already knows Pfannee will be more of a liability to them than to her. But then there’s Glinda.

Glinda, who is staring at her now like a lost little deer, wide-eyed and clearly out of her depth.

Elphaba should tell her to stay behind, should tell her she’d be better off sitting this one out instead of dragging herself through an exhausting hike she doesn’t even want to do. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just offers a small, knowing smile, meeting Glinda’s eyes across the table as she mouths, I got you.

Glinda blinks, startled for just a moment before she bites her lip, tilting her head like she’s trying to decipher if she imagined it. But Elphaba just keeps eating, pretending nothing happened.

In her head, she should probably tell Glinda to stay. She wanted her to stay, mostly because she knew she would complain the whole way through, but also because she knew she couldn’t do it. She can walk for miles, yeah, but a hike? That’s like a death wish for a girl with asthma since she was a kid. But Elphaba didn’t have the right to tell her to stay, to tell her what to do.

They’re not together anymore.

The blonde’s lips part slightly, like she wants to say something, but whatever she was going to say disappears when Pfannee groans loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “If we die out there, I just want it on record that I was forced into this,” He announces dramatically, glaring at Boq who had clearly signed him up for this the same way Fiyero did for the two girls.

Elphaba rolls her eyes, a hint of a smile gracing her lips, “Noted.”

“And I want a memorial service,” he adds, pointing his fork at Fiyero. “With flowers and music.”

“I’ll make sure to put your face on a t-shirt,” Fiyero deadpans, saluting him before falling into laughter. Pfannee nods solemnly, still not over this whole funeral thing, “Good. I want it to say “Gone but never forgotten.” And I want you to use a good photo of me.”

Glinda giggles, shaking her head. “You’re so dramatic.”

Pfannee sighs, placing a hand over his chest. “Someone has to be.”

Elphaba doesn’t bother arguing, just shakes her head as she finishes her food. But even as the conversation shifts back into easy banter, she feels Glinda’s eyes on her again—lingering, thoughtful.

And she doesn’t know what to do with that. So she doesn’t dwell on it. She pushes it down, ignores the way it makes her feel, the way it makes her think. Ignores the fact that Glinda is just there while everything inside her unravels.

Ignore the fact that she made a promise to herself months ago, that she wouldn’t go back, that running after Glinda wasn’t worth it. That no matter what, she wouldn’t let herself be stupid enough to hope.

She ignores it.

Breakfast isn’t exactly fun. Too many moments where someone nearly says something they shouldn’t, where Elphaba has to focus too hard on chewing just to stop herself from thinking. Eventually, they all head back to their cabins to get their things.

Glinda manages to snag more drinks and snacks to shove into her backpack, swapping her sneakers for something more practical. Elphaba, meanwhile, is stuffing jackets and mosquito repellent into hers. Along with a first aid kit. And an inhaler.

Which is weird. Because she doesn’t need that.

“What’s that for?” Glinda asks, pointing at the inhaler just before the other girl shoves it into her bag. Elphaba stills—so slightly that most people wouldn’t even notice. But Glinda isn’t most people.

“It’s for emergencies.” The words are clipped, final. A clear drop it. 

Glinda’s lips part slightly. Because they both know Elphaba doesn’t have asthma. She does. And Elphaba used to carry a spare inhaler when they were together, tucked away in her bag just in case. After they broke up, she stopped. Or at least, Glinda thought she had.

Because why would she still carry one now? Glinda doesn’t let herself entertain the obvious answer, doesn’t let herself linger on the idea that maybe Elphaba had packed it for her. Because that would mean Elphaba still cared. And if Glinda lets herself believe that, even for a second, then all the effort she’s put into pretending otherwise would go to waste.

“Right,” she says instead, adjusting her ponytail like it’s nothing. “Shall we?”

Elphaba nods. Sharp. Quick. Ready to put this conversation behind them. But as they head out, Glinda doesn’t miss the way her ex tightens her grip on her bag, like she already regrets letting her see.

They step out of the cabin, the sun filtering through the trees, throwing dappled light across the ground. The camp is already buzzing with early morning activity, other groups heading off to different challenges, younger campers groaning as they’re herded toward team-building exercises. It’s familiar, the noise, the movement, the smell of sunscreen and bug spray thick in the air. But somehow, it still feels different.

Or maybe that’s just because of them.

Glinda walks a step ahead, adjusting the straps of her backpack, and Elphaba watches—because it’s impossible not to. The way she moves, the casual elegance of it, like she was meant to belong anywhere, even here, in the dirt and the heat.

And then she suddenly turns her head, catching her.

Elphaba looks away too fast to be casual. Pathetic.

“You coming, or do you need me to hold your hand?” Glinda teases, though there’s something sharp, something too aware in her voice. She wanted to lighten the mood, but it’s been clear since breakfast that something was in the air. That something was off. 

They both know it had something to do with what Elphaba said after they won yesterday.

The taller girl rolls her eyes, tightening her grip on her bag. “No, thanks. I’d rather get mauled by a bear.”

“Oh, please,” Glinda snorts. “You’d probably just bore it to death with one of your long-winded essays before it got the chance.”

She snorts despite herself, shaking her head. Dangerous. This was dangerous. Thankfully, the universe seems to take pity on her because they spot their friends waiting for them near the base of the trail. Or maybe not pity, because immediately, Fiyero claps a hand on her shoulder hard enough to nearly knock her forward. “There you are! We were starting to think you two finally murdered each other there.”

Pfannee hums in agreement, inspecting his nails, “Or did something else.” Elphaba groans, pressing a thumb and forefinger against her temple. Should’ve let the bear eat me.

Boq, ever the polite one, clears his throat. “We were just going over the trail with the guide. Apparently, there’s a nice lookout point about halfway up.”

“That’s a lie,” Pfannee mutters. “There’s nothing nice about this.”

Glinda sighs dramatically, reaching for Pfannee’s arm in solidarity. “Finally, someone with sense! This is cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Maybe if you two moved once in a while, this wouldn’t be an issue,” Fiyero says, his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, I move plenty,” Glinda says, tossing her hair, voice dripping with innuendo. “Just not in ways that would ever make me voluntarily hike up a mountain.”

Boq groans, but he doesn’t miss the way Elphaba’s green skin went a shade deeper, “It’s too early for this.”

“You woke me up for this,” Pfannee argues, his nails now pointed to the redhead, “You don’t get to complain.”

Meanwhile, Elphaba is painfully aware of the way Glinda is still looking at her from the corner of her eye, like she’s waiting for something. Maybe for her to tease her back. Maybe for her to say something that will keep the easy rhythm of their banter going. But Elphaba doesn’t. She tightens her straps, glances at the guide. “Can we just start already?”

“Someone’s eager,” Fiyero comments, raising an eyebrow, his shoulders already reddening at the heat of the sun. “Someone wants to get this over with,” Elphaba corrects, and turns to follow the group as they begin the ascent.

Glinda hesitates for a fraction of a second before stepping away, falling into stride beside Pfannee. But the lightness in her teasing is gone. She doesn’t press on, doesn’t glance back. Maybe she just needs space from Elphaba today.

The hike turns out to be less grueling than expected. Challenging, sure, especially if you aren’t used to walking long distances, but not exhausting. Fiyero takes the lead, trailing just behind the camp counselor, while Pfannee and Glinda follow, deep in conversation about something Elphaba has no interest in.

Boq walks beside her, occasionally lifting his camera to snap pictures of the trail. The silence between them is comfortable at first, but after a while, it starts to gnaw at her. It makes her think, and thinking leads to feeling, and that is something she really doesn’t want to do right now.

But Boq had offered earlier, hadn’t he? Said he was there if she wanted to talk. Maybe Glinda was right. Maybe she should stop keeping everything locked away until it inevitably bursts. She exhales, forcing herself to speak before she can second-guess it. “Hey.”

Boq glances up from his camera, a little surprised. “Hey. You okay?” He asks, concern written all over his face. She swallows, looking straight ahead. “Can I ask you for advice?”

He stares at her like she just spoke in an entirely different language, nearly fumbling his camera as he nods, “Yeah! Yeah, of course.”

It takes more effort than it should to continue. Admitting she doesn’t know something, that she needs help, feels unnatural, like trying to speak with a mouth full of glass. “I—I don’t know what to do,” she finally says, gripping the strap of her backpack. “With Glinda, I mean.” Boq’s brows furrow, “I don’t follow.”

Elphaba exhales sharply, forcing the words out like they physically pain her. “Do you think I should try to win her back?”

And—wow. Okay. That was not what he expected. 

It’s so much that he nearly trips over his own feet, his brain short-circuiting as he stares at Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp, the queen of pushing people away, the master of pretending she doesn’t need anyone, the very same girl that disdained the blonde for something none of them knew, is asking if she should fight for Glinda.

Boq stares at her like she just sprouted a second head, his grip tightening on his camera. “Uh—I’m sorry, can you say that again? I just need to make sure I didn’t fall and hit my head back there.”

Elphaba groans, adjusting the strap of her backpack, feeling her entire body go rigid when Glinda beckons them to walk faster, “Forget it.”

“No, no, no, no! Absolutely not! You are not dropping a bomb like that and walking away.” He moves in front of her, effectively blocking her path. “You want my actual advice, or do you just want me to tell you what you want to hear?”

Elphaba exhales sharply, glancing up at the trail ahead where Glinda and Pfannee are still deep in conversation, their laughter light, effortless. She’s waiting for them and it grates on her nerves, and she doesn’t even know why.

“I don’t know what I want,” she admits, and it’s the closest she’s come to breaking in a long time. She feels helpless, feels caged, feels like she’s going to die at any second. Boq studies her for a second before sighing. “Elphaba, I think you already know the answer. The real question is, do you actually want to fight for her, or do you just hate the idea of losing?”

She blinks, caught off guard. That psychology degree he’s getting is starting to make more sense now, “What?”

“Come on,” Boq says, shouldering his camera bag. “You’re Elphaba. You’d rather cut off your own arm than admit you actually want something, and I think Glinda was the exception to that. So, do you actually want her back, or do you just want to win? Because if it's the second one—if this is just about proving something—then leave her alone.”

Elphaba scowls, instinctively defensive. “That’s not—” But then she stops. Because she doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Because she knows it’s the first one and she would rather jump off this mountain than to admit that. 

Boq shrugs, stepping past her to catch up with the others. “Just think about it,” he calls over his shoulder. She stands there for a second too long, staring at nothing, before finally trudging forward, her steps a little heavier.

Somehow, across the trail, Glinda falls into step with her, and the blonde looks at her like she knows something—like there’s something she wants to ask. “Elphaba?” She calls out, reaching for her. Elphaba hums, eyes ahead. “Yeah?”

“You and Boq looked like you were talking about something serious back there. Are you okay?” Glinda asks, her fingers brushing Elphaba’s shoulder. And it shouldn’t make her stomach flip. It shouldn’t make her feel so… Good. That she’s concerned. But it does.

“Yeah.” She smiles, nodding, allowing herself to relax as she takes in a breath, “You and Pfannee looked serious too.” She chuckles, trying to lighten the conversation as they walk. Glinda snorts, shaking her head. “He was asking if he and ShenShen should get married if they’re both single by the time we graduate.”

“A lavender marriage, I see.” Elphaba laughs along, continuing up the trail.

They fall into silence after that, the only sound between them being their footsteps on dirt and the distant chatter of their friends ahead. The altitude shifts, the incline steeper now, and even Elphaba is starting to feel it with her grip tightening on the straps of her backpack as they push forward.

Glinda, though… Glinda is struggling. At first, it’s just a small tightness in her chest. Manageable. Annoying, but manageable.

Then, the incline gets steeper, and her breaths come shorter. She tries to pace herself, small, controlled inhales through her nose, slow exhales through her mouth, but it’s not working. Her chest squeezes, tighter, tighter, like a fist clenching around her lungs. She tries to swallow, but her throat feels dry, scratchy, like sandpaper against raw skin.

No, no, no. Not now. Not here.

She grips the straps of her backpack, trying to focus on anything but the growing panic curling in her gut. She counts her steps. One, two, three— breathe. One, two, three— breathe. But the air feels too thin, like she’s sucking through a straw with holes in it, and every inhale feels shallower than the last.

Her legs are unsteady now, knees wobbling like she’s walking on stilts. The trees blur. The ground feels too far and too close at the same time. She can hear Elphaba talking—something about Pfannee and Shenshen—but the words are just noise now, too distant, too drowned out by the sound of her own heartbeat hammering in her ears.

She’s not getting enough air.

Oh, fuck.

Her hands shake as she grips her water bottle, taking a sip, but it does nothing. She presses a hand to her chest, fingers curling against the fabric of her shirt. She just needs to keep moving, to push through it. They’re almost there. She can—

The next step falters. Her foot catches on something. Maybe it’s a rock, maybe just her own exhaustion, and suddenly the world tilts. Her stomach lurches. The ground rushes up too fast, and she barely registers the sting of branches scraping against her arm before she’s down, knees hitting the dirt, palms scraping against gravel. Her lungs burn.

She gasps, tries to suck in air, but it’s like her body forgot how to breathe. Like her throat collapsed in on itself.

“You’re getting quiet.” Elphaba’s voice barely registers over the ringing in her ears. And Glinda tries to respond, to force out something or anything but her throat is closing. She feels like she’s breathing through a straw, her chest tightening, squeezing, making it impossible to pull in enough air.

Her hands shake and the trees blur.

“Elphaba—” It’s barely a whisper before everything cuts out. Elphaba turns just in time to see her on her knees, seconds before collapsing to the ground. “Shit—” She barely catches her before she hits the ground completely, her fingers gripping Glinda’s shoulders as panic slams into her.

Glinda is out. Her body limp, her skin pale, her chest rising and falling in these frantic, shallow gasps that aren’t pulling in enough air. “Glinda? Glinda?”

No response.

Her heart slams against her ribs as she fumbles with her backpack— where is it where is it where is it—

Her hands close around the inhaler, and she nearly drops it in her rush. “Elphaba?” A voice—Fiyero. He’s backtracking down the trail, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going—” His face drops the second he sees Glinda, his reddened skin suddenly pale. “Shit. What happened?!”

“She—she passed out, she—she can’t breathe—” Elphaba’s voice cracks as she presses the inhaler to Glinda’s lips, pressing once. Twice. Three times. She could feel her hands shaking, but she didn't let that get in the way of making sure the blonde was okay. “Come on. Come on, my sweet, breathe.”

Fiyero kneels beside them, one hand hovering over Glinda’s shoulder like he doesn’t know what to do. “Is she—?”

He was probably going to ask if she was dead, which, in hindsight, is a stupid question, so he’s glad Elphaba stops him. 

“I don’t know, she’s not—” 

And then a sound. A weak, barely-there wheeze. Elphaba’s grip tightens. “Glinda? Hey. Come on, wake up.”

Nothing.

Glinda’s breathing evens out slightly, but she doesn’t wake up. Her body remains limp, her head lolling against Elphaba’s arm. She’s still out cold, and blood runs down her pale arm, a gash from the branches marring her smooth skin. Elphaba swallows hard. “We have to get her back.”

Fiyero nods, already reaching for her, “I’ll carry—”

“No.” It’s firm. Final. Elphaba shifts, carefully pulling Glinda into her arms, her grip steady despite the hammering of her heart. She barely registers how easy it is to lift her, how small she feels, how fragile. It makes her heart clench.

Fiyero watches for a second before nodding. “I’ll take your bag and I’ll get the counselor.” He takes off up the trail, calling out to the others. Elphaba doesn’t wait, she turns, heading down.

Glinda doesn’t stir, her body slack against Elphaba’s chest, her breath warm against her collarbone. She holds her closer and she doesn’t let go.

The trail blurs as Elphaba walks, her arms burning halfway through the decline, but she doesn’t stop. She can’t. Glinda is too still in her arms, too pale, too quiet. Elphaba presses her palm against the wound again, trying to slow the bleeding. Her own breath is short, her heart hammering so hard it makes her ears ring.

This is her fault. She should have told Glinda to stay back. She should have noticed sooner. She should have—

“Come on…” She murmurs, shaking her gently. No response.

Behind her, their friends are rushing to catch up, voices calling out, but it all sounds distant. The only thing that matters is the weight in her arms, the rise and fall of Glinda’s chest is too shallow, too weak.

By the time they make it back to the cabin, Elphaba feels like she’s been walking for hours. The counselors check Glinda over, voices hushed, moving with more urgency than she’d like. They settle her in bed, wiping blood from her skin, placing a cold rag against her forehead. She had been the one to put the bandage on her. She knew Glinda didn’t like it loose, or tight enough. No one else knew how to do it.

And then, after that, Elphaba stands frozen in the doorway, watching.

Glinda doesn’t move. She looks so small. Her hands curl into fists at her sides. Her heart clenches, twisting painfully, but she says nothing. She doesn’t say anything at all.

The walls of the common room feel like they’re closing in. Elphaba is now on the floor, her arms hooked under her knees, eyes locked onto nothing. She’s barely blinking. Barely breathing. The others are around her, sprawled across couches, whispering, watching… But they don’t matter.

Nothing matters.

Except the image of Glinda, pale and limp in her arms. The way her head lolled against Elphaba’s shoulder. The way her breath had barely been there. She’s probably overreacting, but the guilt is biting. It physically pains her. 

“It’s not your fault, Fabala,” Nessa says gently, like she’s afraid Elphaba might shatter if she speaks too loudly. Elphaba doesn’t respond. Because they’re wrong. They’re all wrong. And she knows that because she can feel it, the guilt, gnawing at her, burrowing under her ribs, curling around her spine like something alive. It’s in her chest, in her throat, choking her.

She should have told Glinda to stay back. She should have been paying attention. She should have…

A sharp inhale stabs through her lungs, but it doesn’t bring relief. It just makes her feel like she’s suffocating all over again. And then, suddenly, it happened. The walls crack. The dam breaks. The first sob rips out of her before she can stop it, raw and jagged, like she’s being split open from the inside. It startles even her.

And then the next one follows. And the next.

She can’t stop it. She can’t stop it.

Her whole body shakes as tears spill over, blurring her vision, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She shoves her hands against her face, curling in on herself like she can make herself smaller, like she can disappear.

Fiyero is the first to move. He drops to the floor beside her, arms coming around her in an instant, and she doesn’t even fight it. Because she can’t.

Because if she does, she might collapse completely.

“I should have known,” she chokes out, her voice barely recognizable, her hands clawing into her own arms, nails digging into skin. “I should have known she couldn’t take it.”

“Elphaba—” Nessa starts, but she shakes her head violently, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I saw her struggling… I heard her struggling… I knew she was going to struggle but I just—I didn’t—” Her voice splinters, cutting off, and she lets out a shaky breath, chest heaving. Her fingers tangled in her own hair, yanking, pulling, like she’s trying to tear herself apart. 

“I should have… Fuck. I left her. I left her there when she needed me the most.”  Another sob breaks free, and her whole body feels like it’s crumbling. “I—” Her breath catches. “I was the reason we broke up.”

She doesn’t even know how she got there, how she pivoted to that. But it’s too late to take back because it’s true. Because… Because she did leave her. 

Silence.

The words hang in the air, heavy, suffocating, irreversible.

The room stills. Nessa’s breath hitches. Pfannee shifts uncomfortably. ShenShen stares at her blankly. Fiyero’s grip on her tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Because what is there to say? No one knew. No one ever knew. And now Elphaba is just saying it? Just admitting it?

She lets out a hollow, broken laugh, pressing her forehead against her knees.

“Did you guys know that?”

Silence.

For the first time, no one knows what to say.

And Elphaba just keeps spiraling. She lets the words spill out like they mean nothing. Like she hasn’t been choking on them for a year. “Last year… She got the internship, and I got the research grant.” Her jaw tightens, her breath shuddering as she speaks. “I was happy for her—I was. But then I started overthinking, and suddenly all I could see was us losing time for each other. I started pulling away before she could. I thought if I did it first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

She swallows hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I thought she wouldn’t notice. Of course she noticed. She always notices.”

No one moves. No one even breathes too loud.

“And then we had an argument.” Her fingers dig into her arms, nails pressing into her green skin. “That night after the arcade, we were driving home, and she brought the internship up again. She was so excited. And I—” Her voice breaks, and she forces herself to keep going, because there was no going back now, “I don’t even remember what I said. I just remember the way her face changed. The way everything just… fell apart.”

A sharp inhale from someone—Nessa, maybe—cuts through the silence. “She said if I was going to act like this, maybe we needed a break. And I—” Elphaba’s breath hitches, her grip tightening. “I told her I couldn’t do that.”

“I was a coward,” she whispers, her voice raw. “I let her go.”

“She asked me. Oz, she begged me to tell her what was wrong, and I still didn’t. And when she finally got tired of waiting, when she said she needed space, I just—” She lets out a sharp, shaky breath, her voice breaking. “I let her go.”

The words feel heavier than her own body, like they might crush her under their weight. She grips her knees tighter, her fingers digging into the fabric of her pants as she forces herself to keep talking. Because if she stops, if she really lets herself think about it, she might never recover.

No one dares to speak. No one even dares to breathe too loudly.

Because Elphaba doesn’t do this. She doesn’t break. And yet here she is, unraveling right in front of them, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but regret and the sharp, unbearable sting of what if. “I didn’t run after her,” she whispers, like she’s confessing something unforgivable. “I let her walk away, and I just sat there. I should have— fuck. I should have gone after her. I should have told her I didn’t mean it, that I would wait for her if she wanted a break, that I was scared. But I didn’t. I just watched her leave, and the whole time, I was hoping and praying that she would turn around and tell me to stay.” She lets out a hollow, humorless laugh. “She didn’t.”

Her hands tremble where they rest on her knees, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. “She didn’t, because she thought I didn’t want her to.”

Elphaba drags her hands down her face, exhaling shakily. “I thought I was protecting her. I thought—I thought if I let her go first, if I prepared myself for losing her, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. But it does. It fucking hurts.”

She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing herself to stop crying, but she can’t. Because she’s right back there, sitting in her car, gripping the steering wheel, watching Glinda walk away.

Because she’s right back there, convincing herself not to chase after her.

Because she’s right back there, waiting for Glinda to turn around.

And now Glinda is just in the other room, pale and unconscious, because Elphaba let her go all over again. Her breath catches. She swallows, hard, voice barely a whisper when she speaks again.

“If she wakes up and decides that she hates me, I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

Fiyero’s hand tightens on her shoulder. “She won’t,” he says, quiet but firm. But Elphaba just shakes her head, because he doesn’t know that. None of them do. And if she loses her now… If she loses Glinda again… She won’t survive it.

She stays pressed against the wall for what feels like ages. No one moves to their own cabin. No one even suggests it. They’re all staying, whether for Glinda or for her, she doesn’t know. Maybe both.

Boq takes it upon himself to slip out, heading to the mess hall to bring back food for everyone. Elphaba doesn’t eat. She can’t.

She’s still stuck in that feeling. Like she’s back in that driveway, watching Glinda walk away all over again. Like something inside her is clawing at her, screaming at her to move, to go after her, to do what she didn’t do then.

Nessa is the first to fall asleep, curled into the sofa, her head resting against Pfannee’s lap. Pfannee’s out cold too. ShenShen is on the floor, scrolling through her iPad, Fiyero half-asleep beside her. Boq is slouched in the armchair, his camera resting in his lap.

It’s almost midnight when she hears it. A faint cough.

Then—

“Elphaba?”

Her whole body goes rigid. No one else stirs, too deep in sleep to hear it, but Elphaba does. And then she’s moving. She scrambles to the room, expecting anger. Expecting to be told to leave. Expecting something.

But instead, Glinda is just there. Sitting up against the pillows, her hair fanned out over the white sheets, looking pale but alive. And Elphaba is so close to breaking down all over again. “Hey,” she breathes.

Glinda smiles weakly. She lifts a hand, motioning her closer. “Come here.”

“Do you need something? You should probably eat. We have sandwiches, water—do you want—” The words spill out before she can stop them, her brain working too fast, her heart beating faster. But Glinda cuts her off with a simple touch, fingers wrapping around her arm.

“Elphaba,” she murmurs, voice quiet, steady. “Calm down.”

“I…” Elphaba shakes her head, breath coming too fast. “I can’t.”

Glinda frowns. She squeezes her arm. “You’ve been crying.”

Elphaba freezes. Of course Glinda notices.

The red around her eyes, the way her glasses are smudged with tear tracks, the roughness in her voice, the way her hands tremble slightly where they rest on her knees.

Of course she notices. She always does.

A small smirk tugs at the blonde’s lips. “You care about me.” At that, the other girl exhales sharply, shifting, defensive. “Are you assuming I cried because of you?” Glinda raises a brow, seeing right through her. “Would you cry if Pfannee passed out?” Elphaba huffs. “I’d probably draw a mustache on his face with a marker.”

And for Glinda, that’s enough.

Elphaba does care. She still cares. And somehow, even after everything, that makes Glinda feel alive.

They sit in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the other room. ShenShen’s iPad was still playing something no one was watching. Elphaba cracks a small smile. “They’re all still here, you know.”

Glinda groans at the mere thought of their friends surrounding her first thing in the morning, “Tell them to go away.”

“They’ll dote on you tomorrow.”

“They better not.”

Elphaba snorted, playfully rolling her eyes as she fidgeted with the sheets, “Don’t act like you don’t love the attention.”

Glinda grins, then watches as Elphaba’s eyes drift to her bandaged arm, “Does it hurt?”

For a second, Glinda doesn’t answer. She looks down at the wound. The bandage is neat, the layers of gauze perfectly placed. Elphaba must have done it herself. The thought twists something in her chest.

“It did,” she says finally, voice quiet, almost thoughtful. She lifts her gaze, watching the way Elphaba’s fingers twitch against her knee, like she wants to reach out but won’t let herself. Then, softer, more certain, “But not anymore. Not when you’re here.”

Something shifts in the air between them.

Elphaba blinks, her lips parting slightly, but no words come out. Glinda watches the way her throat bobs, the way her hands curl into loose fists like she’s physically stopping herself from feeling too much.

Glinda wants to tell her why her presence alone makes the pain fade, why the moment she woke up and saw her, something in her chest unclenched. She wants to say, you ran for me this time. 

But she doesn’t.

Elphaba clears her throat, breaking the silence first. “You should get some rest, Glinda.” She moves to stand, but pale fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her in place. “I… Can you read to me?” Glinda asks, barely above a whisper. “And can we keep the light on?”

Elphaba doesn’t hesitate. She’s already reaching for the book.

And the thing is—Glinda was right.

She does care. She never stopped caring.

And maybe… Maybe it’s time she stops being a coward about it.

Maybe it’s time she fights for her.

Chapter Text

It’s quiet when they wake up. Too quiet.

Which is suspicious, considering the fact that their friends crashed at their cabin for the night. Maybe they all left early, or maybe they’re still asleep. Either way, Elphaba doesn’t care enough to check.

Her body aches in that way that tells her she didn’t sleep properly, and she doesn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing she recalls is reading aloud, voice dipping lower, until she was sure Glinda was out cold. The book is still on her chest, her glasses askew, and her neck, Oz, her neck is going to hate her for this later.

But she doesn’t care. Not when she looks down and sees Glinda, still fast asleep beside her. Her hair is a mess of blonde curls against the pillow, her lips parted just slightly as she breathes steady, even, peaceful. And Elphaba… 

Elphaba’s entire body feels suspended in something sharp and soft all at once. Because this is the closest she’s been to her in so long. Close enough to see how her freckles darken in the summer, close enough to count her lashes, close enough to make out the tiny furrow in her brow that’s always been there, even in sleep.

And Elphaba suddenly hates herself. Hates that she let this go. Hates that she convinced herself she had to. Because what kind of idiot fumbles someone like Glinda Upland? What kind of absolute fucking moron loses this and just moves on?

Her hands are loose around Elphaba’s arm, fingers curled against the sleeve of her hoodie. Had she been holding onto her in her sleep?

Something in Elphaba’s chest tightens, dangerous and all too familiar.

Glinda stirs before she can make sense of it. Her eyes break open, brown and soft, still heavy with sleep as they land on her. And then she smiles, lazy and unguarded, and Elphaba feels it in the pit of her stomach. “What time is it?” She asks, voice raw from sleep. Elphaba makes a mental note to get her water.

Glinda doesn’t mention the fact that they slept next to each other, and doesn't acknowledge the way their legs are still tangled under the covers. She doesn’t even seem fazed. If anything, she shifts closer.

Elphaba grunts, staring at the clock like it personally offended her, “Too early.”

The sun filters through the cabin windows, spilling gold onto the wooden floors, catching in Glinda’s hair. She pushes herself up with a sleepy hum, but the moment she stretches, she winces just slightly, but Elphaba sees it.

Her body reacts before her mind does. Green hands are already reaching out, steadying her. “Careful.”

Glinda rolls her eyes, smiling through the sting. “I'm fine, you know.”

“I know, but—”

“I'm fine.” She repeats, softer this time, lashes flicking up at her. And for a second—a breath—she doesn’t move. And then she does. It’s subtle, the way she leans in just slightly. Like she wants something, like she’s thinking about something. And Oz help her, Elphaba doesn’t move away.

She should.

She should.

But she doesn’t.

Glinda’s fingers tighten where they still rest against Elphaba’s sleeve, and for one suspended, impossible moment, Elphaba thinks she’s going to kiss her. She wants her to.

But the door swings open.

“You're alive!”

Fiyero’s voice slices through the moment like a knife, and Glinda jerks back so fast she nearly hits her head on the headboard. Elphaba exhales sharply, dragging a hand down her face. “Fiyero, I swear to Oz—”

“Hey, don’t yell at me, I’m just stating facts!” He waltzes in, grinning wide, completely oblivious to the fact that he just ruined something. The blonde groans, flopping back onto her pillow, her face half-hidden in the blanket. “Tell me he’s a fever dream.”

Elphaba pinches the bridge of her nose, ignoring the fact that Fiyero’s still there, “Unfortunately, he’s real.”

Beside her, Glinda sighs dramatically. “That’s the worst news I’ve gotten all morning.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

But the feeling stays. Both clinging on to that almost. 

It turns out their friends didn’t leave.

That alone pisses Elphaba off more than it should as she trudges toward the bathroom, shooting them all pointed looks as if to tell them, Don’t bring it up. Don’t say a word. For all Glinda knows, that breakdown never happened. Her confession never took place.

They get the message. At least, for now.

She can hear them crowding around Glinda anyway, just as she expected. ShenShen and Pfannee are the first to start gushing, their voices loud enough to carry through the walls. “Oh, you looked like a perfect damsel in distress last night,” Pfannee sighs, practically swooning. “And Elphaba was the perfect knight in shining armor. It was so romantic.”

Glinda is almost beaming as she listens, her teeth exposed as she smiles. She liked hearing it, yes, but didn’t exactly like living it. “Oh, and how she valiantly carried you here… I almost wanted to pass out too so someone carries me like that.”

Glinda snorts, rolling her eyes. But the laughter doesn’t quite settle in her chest, not when she remembers. The way Elphaba had panicked. The way she had cried.

The blonde swallows. If she only knew. If she only knew how much she cared.

“Be for real,” ShenShen teases. “Fiyero and Boq would’ve dragged you by your feet.” Pfannee shoots her a pointed glare, but Glinda only giggles, leaning back as Nessa, who had joined them minutes ago, pulls some clothes from her bag.

“Can you walk to breakfast, Glin?”

“I’ll be okay. I’m just glad I didn’t sprain my ankle.” She smiles, reaching for the clothes Nessa had picked out. Then, softer, she leans in, “Is… is Elphaba okay, though? Her eyes were red last night.”

The room goes silent.

The two girls exchange glances while Pfannee looks away, wordless but full of meaning. It’s not their place to say. More importantly, this is not the place to say it. Glinda blinks. They know something.

But before she can push, Nessa shifts. “She… she’s okay,” she says carefully. “We were all just really concerned for you. It took a while before you woke up.”

Glinda hums, nodding. Maybe they were right. Maybe that’s all it was.

Then the door swings open.

Elphaba steps inside, her braid still damp and clinging to her back. Her sleeves are pushed up, her arms crossed loosely over her chest.

And Glinda… Glinda is staring at her like she’s Oz herself.

“I was able to shoo Boq and Fiyero,” Elphaba says flatly, nudging the door open further. “I won’t think twice about shooing you guys too.”

“Rude!” ShenShen gasps, standing up and turning her nose up at Elphaba dramatically. But she meets the green girl’s glare and scurries off before she can actually get kicked out. Nessa just smiles before dragging Pfannee along with her.

The door closes behind them. And then it’s just the two of them. Glinda tilts her head, smiles slowly, her dimples so evident in the way she smiles. “So… I heard you were my knight in shining armor.”

Elphaba stills. The words hang between them, heavy with something unspoken. Glinda doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t not say it, either. The way she’s looking at her makes Elphaba’s stomach twist, like she’s expecting something, waiting for something.

She wants to deflect. She wants to look away. But she doesn’t. Instead, she just nods, moving toward her closet like this is fine. Like this is normal. If she’s going to stop being a coward, she might as well start dropping hints that she’s still not over her. “I just brought you here,” she says simply. “I didn’t want Fiyero to do it.”

Glinda hums, slow and knowing, as she stands. She’s clearly enjoying this, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Why not?”

Because you’re mine.

Because you used to be mine.

Elphaba grips the handle of her closet door a little too tightly. “I just wanted to be sure you were alright, okay? Now go. You’re probably hungry.” Glinda giggles as she skips toward the bathroom, not missing the way Elphaba’s ears flush green.

And Elphaba? Elphaba knocks her head against the closet doors.

Just as she thinks Glinda is finally going to shower and give her a moment to breathe, the blonde’s head suddenly pops back into the room, her voice light, almost sing-song, “Elphaba?”

Elphaba exhales sharply through her nose, forehead still pressed against the closet doors, “Hm?”

Glinda’s smiling at her, sweet and easy, like she doesn’t notice the absolute wreck she’s making of her. Or maybe she does. “Can you go ahead? I want to make sure I have a salad.”

The other girl lifts her head, blinks at her. That’s it? That’s all she wants?

She should say no. She should tell her to just come along, that she’s not a damn waiter. But Glinda’s looking at her with those big brown eyes, and Elphaba is too whipped to say no. “…Fine.”

Glinda giggles, eyes crinkling. “Thank you, my knight in shining armor.”

Elphaba groans. “Never saying yes to you again.”

She doesn’t mean it.

And Glinda knows it.

She tilts her head, lingers in the doorway like she’s about to say something else. Or maybe do something else. Her fingers twitch at her sides, like she’s holding herself back. Instead, she just grins. “See you in a bit.”

And with that, she disappears into the bathroom, leaving Elphaba standing there, wondering what the hell just happened—and why she suddenly feels like she just narrowly avoided something dangerous.

The walk to the mess hall leaves Elphaba turning over the morning in her head, chewing on the strange way Glinda had looked at her before she left. Like she was about to say something. Or, no. Like she was about to do something.

It’s unsettling. Glinda being weird usually means trouble, but Elphaba doesn’t have the time or patience to untangle it now. Instead, she gets breakfast for the both of them, hoping that focusing on something else will help.

It doesn’t.

Because as soon as she sits at their usual table, her so-called friends are already staring at her like she’s some sort of spectacle. Great. You break down once, and suddenly they think you’re soft. “What?” She asks flatly, stabbing at a piece of fruit.

Boq is the first to take the bait, opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Nessa beats him to it. “So Glinda…”

Elphaba doesn’t even hesitate. “What about her?” She already knows where this is going. She’s prepared. She’s rational, in her right mind, and she is absolutely not going to snap at them. After all, they’re just trying to help. Right?

Nessa tilts her head at her, unimpressed. “Are you ever going to tell her that you regret leaving her, or should we do that too?”

Elphaba’s fork stills against her plate. Her head tilts, brows furrowing. “…Wait, wait. Do that too?”

Nessa’s mouth clicks shut like she’s said too much. She leans back in her chair, suddenly Very Interested in the cup of coffee in front of her, “I’m not talking anymore.” And that’s all it takes for everything to slot into place. Like puzzle pieces shifting into a perfect fit. Like fog clearing just enough to see the disaster in front of her. Like a string of lies untangling all at once.

Elphaba’s eyes widen, realization hitting her in full force. Her friends? Their insistence on this trip? The way both she and Glinda were explicitly told the other wouldn’t be here? She sits up straighter, her voice a little too loud for the morning, “I fucking knew it!”

The whole table flinches, eyes darting around like she’s about to start flipping trays. Maybe she is. She hasn’t decided yet. “I knew you idiots were up to something! And I just knew Glinda and I coming here wasn’t a coincidence. You told me she wasn’t gonna be here. You told her I wouldn’t be here.”

Pfannee mutters, half-hearted, “We’re losing the plot.” But Nessa? Nessa’s already given up the act. “Yes. Yes, we did that. Now are you going to win her back or not?”

Elphaba’s mouth opens to argue, to deny, to do something, but then the double doors of the mess hall swing open. And Glinda walks in. Elphaba stops breathing.

The world slows down, distilling into just this moment, into just her.

Her golden curls are loose over her shoulders, a soft halo around her face, the faintest shimmer dusting her cheekbones. A tiny smirk plays on her lips, the lightest pink gloss catching in the morning sun.

And her outfit? A problem.

The fitted shirt. The tiny skirt. The way her legs stretch for miles and miles and miles. Which is funny considering she’s literally five foot one, but like…

Elphaba grips her fork a little too hard. Glinda doesn’t head toward the food line. She doesn’t hesitate or glance around or pretend like she isn’t in complete control of the room. No, she walks straight for their table.

Pfannee leans in, watching this unfold like it’s the best show he’s ever seen, “She’s killing you right now.”

The older Thropp doesn’t even look at him. “Shut up.”

“You’re so gone,” Boq mutters, amused. “Did you see the way she—”

But Elphaba doesn’t hear the rest. Because Glinda is too close now, cutting through the mess hall like she owns the damn place, her head tilting just slightly as she meets Elphaba’s gaze.

And then, she winks. Elphaba nearly drops her fork.

The whole table erupts into silent chaos, Pfannee clutching Boq’s arm like this is the most dramatic moment of their lives. Nessa just hums, sipping her coffee, all too pleased with herself. Fiyero’s giggling under his breath. ShenShen is looking back and forth between the two like her life depended on it. 

“Oh, Elphaba!” Glinda’s voice is all honey as she slides into the seat across from her, smile still bright and unshaken, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “You got me breakfast. How sweet of you.”

And, listen. Is this Glinda’s deeply entrenched delusion convincing her that Elphaba cares about her? Yes. Is she absolutely about to lean into it and see how far she can push? One hundred percent. Does she have any idea that Elphaba had a full-on breakdown and is currently a hair’s breadth away from clawing at her own skin? Not. A. Clue.

“You… You literally—” Elphaba sputters, her fork freezing in midair. There’s a long pause as she visibly struggles, her ears turning pink under the weight of Glinda’s smirk. Then, finally, she exhales sharply, “Sure. Whatever. You’re welcome.”

Glinda grins, triumphant, and digs into her food like she just won a prize. She is winning, really. If her presence alone is enough to leave Elphaba flustered, then what happens when she actually tries? Before she can push further, though, the doors open again, and the counselors stroll in, carrying another sign-up sheet.

“We’ll be holding a canoe race this afternoon! Campers are free to swim until the beginning of the race and after,” one of them announces, pinning the sheet to the load-bearing pole in the middle of the room.

Elphaba is not interested. Not in the slightest. But before she can even form the words, Fiyero nudges her side, already grinning. “You’re signing up,” he says, like it’s already been decided for her. She doesn’t even look up from her plate. “Like hell I am.”

“You’re signing up,” he repeats, and then, without missing a beat, turns to Glinda. “You too.”

And before either of them can protest, he’s gone, already scribbling their names down with reckless enthusiasm. Glinda barely reacts, still focused on her breakfast, but then, halfway through a bite, she speaks again, her voice quieter, softer.

“I would whack his head if you don’t want to do it.”

It’s meant to be a joke, lighthearted and easy, but Elphaba knows better. She can hear it—that tiny, unspoken offer hidden underneath. If she tells Glinda she really doesn’t want to, she knows without a doubt that Glinda would get up and tell Fiyero to take their names off the list.

But that isn’t what worries her. No, what worries her is the bandage on Glinda’s arm. “I think you should sit it out,” Elphaba counters, her voice careful but firm.

Glinda hums, her gaze flickering to her arm before she shakes her head. “I’ll be fine.” 

“You literally passed out yesterday,” Elphaba pressed, the words coming faster, sharper. She doesn’t care that they aren’t alone anymore, that their friends are all watching this unfold with barely concealed amusement. “I’m just—”

“Worried about me?”

The blonde’s smile is instant and blinding, her teeth bunny-like, something so impossibly soft it makes Elphaba’s stomach drop. Then she freezes. She hadn’t meant to say any of that, not like this, not when she’s already spiraling, not when Glinda’s looking at her like that.

She scrambles for something, anything to claw her way back to solid ground. “At least let me look at it before we go swimming,” she mutters, barely audible, but Glinda hears it. Of course she does.

And then—then!

Glinda tilts her head, lashes fluttering, her voice dipping into something dangerously sweet. “Are you going to kiss it better?”

Elphaba chokes on her food. Across the table, Boq lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a muffled scream. Pfannee, fully invested now, grips Nessa’s wrist like they’re witnessing peak drama.

And Elphaba? Elphaba rubs at the bridge of her nose, exhaling through gritted teeth.

“I'll take it back.” But Glinda just hums, still grinning. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

The walk back to the cabin is full of noise with campers already making their way toward the pool, laughing and chattering, their arms full of floaties, towels, and brightly colored tote bags. Someone runs past with a water gun, already drenched. Someone else is dramatically setting up a beach umbrella on the grass, like they’re preparing for a full-day event.

And Glinda? Glinda is practically glowing. Like the sun itself has descended among mortals and possessed her. 

She’s tugging Elphaba along, her excitement barely contained, her steps light like she might just start skipping at any moment. At some point—Elphaba isn’t sure when—Glinda takes her hand. She doesn’t make a big deal of it, doesn’t even look over, just laces their fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Oh.

Elphaba doesn’t say anything, doesn’t call attention to it, but she does curl her fingers tighter against Glinda’s. Just once. Just enough that her heart starts to pound in her chest. 

And, listen, she tries. Like, really tries to get her keys out of her pocket, but it’s almost impossible with Glinda still clinging to her. Not that she has the heart to tell her to let go.

She shifts, trying to angle her free hand into her pocket without jostling the blonde too much, but it’s useless. Glinda’s grip only tightens, her arms snug around Elphaba’s waist, her chin resting against her shoulder like she belongs there.

“You’re making this very difficult,” The taller girl mutters, lips twitching despite herself. Glinda sighs dramatically, making no move to let go, “You’re cold. You’re practically a lizard. Would you rather I die of a heat stroke?”

A snort escapes her lips before she could stop herself, shaking her head in amusement as she finally pushes the door open, “That’s not my problem.”

“Do you have a swimsuit?” Glinda asks the second they step inside the cabin, already making a beeline for her closet. Elphaba exhales, dragging a hand across her hair. “Nessa forced me to pack it,” she grumbles, because of course she did.

The shorter girl hums, only half-listening as she rummages through her things. She already knows what she’s going to wear. But when she finds the pink set buried in one of her drawers, she grins. Because, honestly? She doesn’t know where she and Elphaba stand.

Yes, they’re exes. Technically. But after last night, after catching a glimpse of Elphaba with red-rimmed eyes, after watching her break in a way she never used to, after her facade finally cracks, Glinda can’t help but feel… hopeful.

Because Elphaba cares. She’s not pulling away like she used to. She’s letting Glinda get away with things she never would have if they were still fighting—touching her, teasing her, making her flustered in a way that’s becoming dangerously addictive.

Which means there’s something still there. And if there’s even the slightest chance of reclaiming what they lost, of having Elphaba again, Glinda isn’t going to let it slip through her fingers.

So, if that means she has to pull out all the stops, if she has to wear her most irresistible outfits, walk the fine line between teasing and truth, and be downright irresistible in herself… So be it.

Glinda is stuck in her thoughts for what feels like an eternity. So lost in them that she doesn’t even realize Elphaba has already left to change. It only hits her when she hears the bed creak, snapping her out of her stupor.

Her eyes flick up.

And oh.

The well-loved Shiz University t-shirt and those threadbare sweats, which, frankly, Glinda has always found endearing in the ‘I-want-to-bully-you-into-wearing-something-nicer-but-also-you-look-cute kind of way,’ are gone. Replaced by a simple black bikini, nothing flashy, paired with loose drawstring shorts slung low on her hips.

Oh.

She knows Elphaba is strong, has always been strong, but there’s a difference between knowing something and being faced with visual evidence. The sharp, toned definition of her abs. The solid biceps that shouldn’t be as distracting as they are. The thighs—dear Oz, the thighs—that have no right to be that muscular.

And the hardest part about it, the part that makes her stomach twist and her throat tighten, is that she’s seen all of this before. She’s seen less before. She traced those abs with her fingers, pressed kisses into those biceps, curled up against those thighs and felt them tense under her touch.

Back then, Elphaba had been hers. To touch. To have.

Now she’s not. And Glinda doesn’t know how else to function when she’s looking at her like that.

Elphaba raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, and falls back against her sheets with a smirk. “You know, you could just borrow Boq’s camera. Take a picture—it’ll last longer.”

The blonde doesn’t even try to come up with a comeback. She just makes a sound somewhere between a huff and an indignant squeak, storms into the bathroom, and slams the door shut behind her. Once inside, she presses her hands to her cheeks.

Yup. Burning hot.

She exhales sharply, schooling herself. Okay. Fine. If that’s how we’re playing it, then two can play this game.

By the time she emerges, Elphaba is half-asleep, full from breakfast, lulled by the summer warmth. Her eyes are barely open when she hears the soft footsteps against the cabin floor.

“You’re finally done—oh.”

Oh, indeed.

Elphaba doesn’t know what she was expecting—probably for Glinda to come out wrapped in a towel, still fussing with her curls, already complaining about her SPF. She was not expecting this.

The pink bikini fits too well, hugging every soft curve like it was made specifically for her. Which, honestly, it probably was. Because of course Glinda would own something that fits her perfectly, of course it would be snug in all the right places, the material stretching deliciously over smooth, sun-kissed skin, her legs bare and endless.

She should not be looking. She knows this. But her gaze betrays her, drinking in every inch of the blonde standing before her, unapologetically confident, unapologetically Glinda. And then she moves, walks further into the room, slow and deliberate, her chin held high like she knows exactly what she’s doing, like she’s giving Elphaba all the time in the world to look.

Which she is. And which Elphaba is definitely doing.

She tries to keep her composure. Fails spectacularly. Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she looks away, her cheeks a shade deeper than usual.

She’s short-circuiting.

Because, what the fuck.

She has never been weak-willed in her life, but Glinda Upland is dangerous. And if she’s trying to kill her, well. She’s succeeding.

Oh, Glinda is having too much fun with this.

Elphaba knows it the second the blonde smirks, her voice dripping with amusement as she teases, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Parroting her own words back at her.

Yeah. She’s going to die.

Dragging herself out of bed because staying there any longer would mean prolonged suffering, Elphaba hastily shoves her things into her bag, desperate to save herself from further humiliation. Thankfully, Glinda does cover up before they leave. Kind of.

She throws on a button-up that looks suspiciously like it once belonged to Elphaba. (It did.) But neither of them points it out. Not when Glinda wears it so casually, all the buttons undone, the fabric hanging loose over her bikini. It’s not enough—not by a long shot—but Elphaba will take what she can get.

Oz, she really needs to have some restraint.

The walk to the pier is mostly quiet. A blessed silence. Until… 

Cold.

She yelps, feeling water slide down her back. Turns around slowly, because if it’s Glinda, she swears—

It’s not Glinda. It’s Boq and Nessa, both armed with water guns.

Where the fuck did they get those?

“Revenge for paintball!” Nessa yells, cackling as she speeds off in her wheelchair.

Elphaba and Glinda exchange a glance. A quirked eyebrow meets a devilish smile.

Yeah. They’re chasing them.

Laughter fills the air as they take off, sprinting across the shore like little kids on summer break. Pfannee joins the chaos. Then Fiyero. Water splashes. Screams echo. Sunlight glints off the ripples in the lake.

It feels right. Like nothing has changed. Like they’re freshmen again—like they’re back in the mountains, staying at Fiyero’s family home, chasing each other through the snow.

For the first time in a long time, Elphaba forgets.

Forgets what was lost. Forgets the ache that usually sits heavy in her chest.

For a little while, everything is fine.

But the moment of peace doesn’t last.

They’re sitting by the shore now, Fiyero, Boq, and Nessa swimming while Pfannee and ShenShen tan nearby. Elphaba is stretched out on her towel, sunglasses shielding her eyes, fingers lazily combing through one of her braids.

“Can you help me?” Glinda’s voice. Sweet, casual.

Elphaba hums, not bothering to open her eyes. “With what?”

She barely catches the movement, the shift of Glinda sitting beside her, but then there’s the unmistakable sound of sunscreen being shaken. “Be a dear and put this on me?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Of course. Of fucking course she’s asking her to put sunscreen on her. Why don’t they just shoot her at this point? Elphaba cracks an eye open. Immediate regret. Glinda is sitting there, bottle in hand, all sun-kissed skin and glistening shoulders, her entire back exposed to her.

She has two options: a.) Say no. Save herself from this emotional torment, or b.) Say yes and ensure her own demise.

Naturally, she makes the wrong choice.

“I—Sure. Lie down.”

Glinda grins, victorious, and stretches out on her towel, shifting onto her stomach. Her front presses against the pink fabric, arms folded beneath her chin. The taller girl exhales sharply, pushing herself up to her knees. Her hands hover over the blonde’s back, hesitating.

She’s fine. She’s totally fine. She is not having flashbacks to every time she’s done this before. Back when she had permission to touch. Back when she didn’t have to pretend this was just friendly.

She clears her throat, feeling it dry up despite the juice she had just chugged minutes before, “Good. Tell me if I’m going too hard, okay?”

ShenShen snorts from where she’s lying, Pfannee has his eyebrows raised, chortling under his breath, “This is starting to sound like your first time.”

Elphaba ignores them, focusing on the task at hand, “Anyway… Where do you want me, Glinda?”

“You’re not helping yourself!”

Glinda giggles beneath her, turning her head just enough to smirk up at Elphaba. “Just put it on me.”

Oh, this is so deeply, profoundly unfair.

Elphaba starts off strong. Focused. Pretending that rubbing sunscreen into Glinda’s back is just a task, just a favor.

She’s careful. Not too slow, not too indulgent. She presses her hands to Glinda’s shoulders, smooths lotion over warm skin, moves steadily down her back, avoiding every dangerous place she absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about.

But then, Glinda sighs. Not just any sigh. A soft, breathy, utterly content sigh. And tilts her head ever so slightly, as if she could still nuzzle against Elphaba’s touch. And Elphaba feels like she’s been sucker punched.

Because she’s done this before.

She knows this body. She once traced these lines with reverence, let her fingers map the places that made Glinda hum, that made her shiver. She’s pressed her lips to every inch of this skin, once upon a time. Back then, it wasn’t sunscreen, it was candlelight and whispered promises. Back then, Glinda was hers.

And now?

Now she’s just some idiot with sunscreen duty. She doesn’t even know if she’s doing it right because Pfannee has given her a weird look once or twice now.

She rubs the last of it into Glinda’s shoulders, patting her back perhaps a little too brusquely, like she’s trying to break herself out of it. Then she collapses onto her towel with a groan, pressing her palms into her own arms just to keep her hands from shaking.

They lie there in silence, the sun heavy against their skin. It’s almost peaceful.

“We’re playing chicken. You girls want to join?”

Fiyero. Grinning like a maniac as he saunters over. Now, it is a known fact that Glinda always says yes to things like this, and Elphaba always says no. That’s just how they work. But right now?

Elphaba’s body is still too hot, still too wound up from everything that just happened, and she needs a distraction. She needs water. So, without a word, she stands. Looks down at Glinda, who has not moved an inch. “No.” The blonde’s voice is muffled against the towel.

Elphaba is having none of that. She crouches beside her, her smile slow and dangerous. “Why not?”

Her tone is baiting, mocking, a challenge. Glinda finally looks up. And her expression pinches, like she’s trying to work through something deeply disturbing, “You… you, as in Elphaba Thropp… Want to go in the water and play chicken?”

The green woman nods, her grin widening. “Scared to lose, princess?”

Oh, that does it.

Glinda launches up so fast that Elphaba nearly topples over. But she catches herself just in time, watching as Glinda, ever determined, begins securing her hair into a ponytail.

(And okay, fine, maybe Elphaba gets a little distracted watching that. Maybe she always has. Maybe it’s a problem.)

Fiyero, ever the captain of their group’s nonsense, claps his hands together. “Boq’s taking Nessa, you take Glinda. I’m officiating.” Then, to their other friends, “I’m not even gonna ask what they’re doing.”

ShenShen flips him off.

A bean. And then they run.

Glinda can’t help but watch Elphaba as they do. Because she looks different. Or, no. Not different.

She looks like her Elphaba again.

Like the girl who once passed her folded-up notes in class, too nervous to whisper her flirtations aloud. Like the girl who offered her rides home, even when home was on the complete opposite side of town. Like the girl who once drove to Munchkinland and back because Glinda had casually mentioned liking the fresh tulips from their fields.

Glinda doesn’t know why she looks lighter now. She doesn’t know that Elphaba broke last night. That she let it all out. That she told their friends everything, that she cried until she felt free.

She doesn’t know that Elphaba wants to win her back.

But it’s okay.

The time isn’t right yet.

She’ll tell her.

Soon.

Just before they reach the water, Glinda surges forward, throwing her arms around Elphaba’s shoulders and jumps on her back. Elphaba catches her without hesitation. She doesn’t even stumble, just grins, wrapping her hands around Glinda’s thighs as she runs straight into the water.

“Hold on!” she warns, laughter bubbling up in her voice.

And Glinda does.

This was the kind of warmth that wasn’t just from the sun. It settled somewhere deeper, tucked beneath Glinda’s ribs, wrapping itself around her like a promise.

The water was cold, but Elphaba’s skin was warm against her thighs as she clung to her shoulders. Her braids were still damp between Glinda’s fingers, and she wasn’t technically using them as reins, but Elphaba definitely shot her a look like she thought she was.

Glinda only grinned. “You’re going to lose!” she declared, full of bravado. Across from them, Nessa sat perched on Boq’s shoulders, her expression unwavering, a silent threat if there ever was one.

And, well. Glinda knew they were doomed. 

“Okay,” Fiyero announced, bobbing his head up from beneath the surface, grinning ear to ear. “Whoever loses gets the shittiest canoe in the race later.”

A pause. No complaints.

Three… Two… One—

The match began in a flurry of splashes, laughter, and fierce determination. Glinda shoved against Nessa’s shoulders. Nessa shoved back. She calls Elphaba out for pushing Boq. Elphaba held onto Glinda’s thighs, fingers just firm enough, staring down Boq like she could psychically intimidate him into losing balance.

Glinda could hear her below, grumbling encouragement, “Come on! I don’t want to lose!” And then, suddenly, they were falling. A quick, breathless drop, water swallowing them whole.

When they surfaced, Glinda was already laughing, pushing wet hair out of her face. She barely noticed the way Elphaba’s eyes immediately flickered to her arm, right to the damp bandage until the concern was palpable. “I’m okay,” she reassured, nudging Elphaba’s side with a smile. “Let’s splash them until they concede.”

And so they did. For hours, they swam and played, pulling Pfannee and ShenShen into the chaos, spraying each other with water guns, chasing each other across the dock. Elphaba was a menace with the water gun, sprinting after Glinda, barefoot and laughing so hard she had to stop to catch her breath.

“Elphaba!” Glinda shrieked, skidding to a halt at the edge of the dock. The girl loomed, grinning, dripping wet and triumphant. Water gun aimed right at Glinda. With no other option, Glinda cannonballed straight into the water.

And Elphaba—who should have been completely expecting it—yelped in surprise as the splash hit her. Somewhere in the water, Fiyero was floating on his back, watching them all with a lazy grin, “You know,” he mused, “I think this might be the best summer we’ll ever have.”

And maybe that was why it hit them all at the same time. It’s that thought. The terrifying, inevitable one.

That someday, they would all grow old.

That someday, all of this… The chasing, the splashing, the laughing until their ribs ached, would be a memory.

They could almost see it, their future stretching ahead of them.

Pfannee, cracking terrible jokes that his dog groomer husband actually laughed at. ShenShen, running her own pharmacy just like she always wanted with that girl in class she never stops yammering about. Fiyero, the forever cool uncle, finally found someone who matched his energy. Boq and Nessa, married with kids, settled somewhere in the suburbs.

And as for them? If their friends had to bet on it, Elphaba and Glinda would also be married, living in the Emerald City.

Glinda, an architect, redesigning the city for the betterment of its people. Elphaba, doing something world-changing. Maybe finding a cure for cancer, maybe solving things they didn’t even have names for yet.

Maybe they’d have kids.

Maybe they’d just get a cat.

It wouldn’t matter. They’d have each other. And for now, for this moment, that was enough.

Glinda smiled, watching her friends, feeling that warmth settle deeper. Without thinking, she leaned her head against Elphaba’s shoulder. Elphaba didn’t move. Didn’t tense or pull away. She only let out a breath—something quiet, something soft—and let her stay.

And Glinda thought: We’ll grow old when we have to. Right now, we have this.

They do, in fact, end up with the shittiest canoe.

It’s old, rickety, the paddles are uneven, and Elphaba knows it’s going to be a disaster before they even get in. Of course it had to be her and Glinda stuck together. Which is fine. Totally fine. Except for the part where she’s supposed to be playing it cool, and sitting in a canoe with Glinda for an extended period of time is the opposite of cool.

To make matters worse, Glinda is horrendous at paddling. Objectively. Comically. The kind of bad that turns a simple race into a full-fledged exercise in patience. “We’re going to lose.” Glinda groans, sagging dramatically, the picture of someone who has never lost in her life. And yet, she pouts like she’s suffering a devastating tragedy, lower lip pushed out, pink and bitten.

Elphaba clenches her jaw. She refuses—absolutely refuses—to react.

Instead, she focuses on inspecting the paddle, because what the fuck is this thing? She swears it’s one strong gust of wind away from snapping in half.

Meanwhile, Nessa is sitting comfortably in a new, sleek canoe with Milla, who got dragged into this because they needed an even number. Fiyero and Boq are teamed up, while Pfannee and ShenShen are already whispering about sabotage.

Elphaba exhales.

They can do this.

She plants her feet, standing at the helm while Glinda settles in at the back. This is fine. “Ready?” she calls.

The whistle blows. And they go… nowhere.

Not really. They drift—pathetically—while everyone else is too busy laughing, talking trash, and colliding into each other to actually race. Fiyero is standing in his canoe like a pirate giving a motivational speech. Pfannee is actively attempting to push ShenShen out of the boat.

Glinda, for her part, is doing her best. Which is to say, she’s paddling in the complete opposite direction of Elphaba. “Move with me!” The taller girl calls over her shoulder, biting back laughter.

“I am moving!” Glinda whines, even as she starts matching her rhythm. They finally start to glide forward, moving with the water, a little slower than everyone else but still in the game. It’s a miracle.

And then, predictably, Glinda wages war. She angles their boat dangerously close to Pfannee and ShenShen’s, wielding her paddle like a weapon of chaos and swatting at them. “Move!” She huffs, eyes narrowing in concentration.

Pfannee gasps like he’s just been personally victimized and retaliates. Elphaba is cackling from the front of the canoe, steering them just enough to avoid a full collision. But they don’t avoid Boq and Fiyero.

Which unfortunately proves to be their downfall.

Because the second their shitty canoe bumps into them, something shifts. The weight tilts, the equilibrium snaps. And then they’re falling.

It happens in a blur, water swallowing them whole before Glinda can even scream. The world is suddenly quiet, muted except for the distant sounds of muffled voices above. Underwater, it’s just the two of them.

Glinda’s eyes are open, wide with surprise, and so are Elphaba’s, strands of dark hair floating around her like ink in water. And Elphaba—stupid, ridiculous Elphaba—is smiling.

Grinning like this is the funniest thing in the world. Glinda wants to be annoyed. She really, really does. But it’s impossible. Because it feels like a moment out of a movie, the kind that makes your heart ache in a way you don’t fully understand.

Like time has slowed down just for them. Like the water pressing in on all sides is holding them in place, giving them just one more second before the real world pulls them back. And then they break the surface, gasping, dripping, breathless.

They’re still looking at each other. Elphaba, soaked and blinking, floating beside her. Glinda, heart pounding, gripping onto the overturned canoe.

“Are you okay?” Glinda asks, breath hitching. She doesn’t know why it comes out like that, why it sounds like something softer, something more fragile. Elphaba just stares at her.

There.

That look.

The one Glinda remembers from that night, from the moment Elphaba blurted it out, from the night she told Glinda she loved her like it had been clawing at her ribcage for months. And it’s not going away. Glinda blinks. It’s still there.

Her throat tightens.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing until she’s moving, drifting closer, treading the water carefully, like something delicate might break between them.

And Elphaba… Elphaba doesn’t move away.

For one second, one long, unbearable, all-consuming second, Glinda thinks she might finally do what she should have done that morning. What she should have done ages ago. But then Elphaba lets out a breath, lets out a smile, a small one, hesitant, uncertain.

And she says, “We should… probably go.”

Glinda swallows.

No.

But she nods anyway. “Yeah.”

Elphaba’s hand brushes against hers under the water, and neither of them mention it. “Grab dinner before everyone else?” She tries, still watching, still searching Glinda’s face for anything. “You want to eat somewhere else tonight?”

Glinda doesn’t hesitate.

“Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

Glinda has never swam to shore faster in her life.

Chapter Text

It’s quiet in the mess hall when they slip inside. The hush of early evening wrapping around them like the steam still rising off the food trays. Their clothes are still damp, clinging in awkward places, the hems of their shirts leaving dark spots on the linoleum. They’ve got towels draped around their shoulders more out of habit than function, and Glinda’s hair is tied up in a hasty knot that’s already coming undone. Every step they take leaves a little trail of lake water behind them, and Elphaba’s boots squeak with each movement, but neither says anything about it. They just move in sync, grabbing mismatched paper plates and slopping warm food onto them without much thought. From chicken nuggets, mashed potatoes, to whatever dessert hadn’t been claimed. It’s the kind of careless, slightly disgusting meal you only eat when you’re starving and twenty-one and grinning for no reason except that you’re here, together.

There’s an ease to the way they do it, and it’s not just the food, but the way they walk side by side, the way they move around each other without fumbling. It’s like muscle memory. Like they’ve done this before. Because they have, a hundred times over. Before everything went to shit. Before Glinda walked away and before Elphaba let her because she was too much of a coward to call her name. 

They mumble sheepish thank yous to the kitchen staff, who barely glance at their drenched silhouettes, and then they’re gone, out the door and hurrying down the gravel path barefoot, warm plates pressed between their hands. They don’t bother with their things. Their stuff’s still back by the pier, scattered and probably soaked, but it doesn’t matter right now. Their friends will grab it. If not, well… they’ll find it tomorrow.

The cabin creaks a little as Elphaba opens the door, holding it open with the back of her foot while Glinda slips past her. Her towel flutters around her like a cape, and she smells like lake water and old sunscreen. The floor is cool beneath their feet, the room dim with late sunlight still trying to sneak in through the blinds. They sit on the ground without thinking about it, no effort to towel off, no regard for the damp carpet that will definitely smell awful in the morning, they were just sinking onto the floor with paper plates balanced in their laps. Their knees bump once, twice and neither of them pulls away.

There’s laughter sitting on the edge of Glinda’s mouth but she doesn’t let it out yet, not when her hands are full of mashed potatoes and her heart is full of something heavier, something softer. Her bandage has mostly come undone, hanging limply at her elbow, and the small scrape beneath it is pink and visible now. It should sting. But every time Elphaba glances at her and gives her that quiet, sideways glance like she’s still getting used to looking again, the ache fades a little more.

“You’re not exactly great at canoeing,” Glinda says eventually, half-smirking as she chews on a fry. She means it to tease, light and sharp, the type of banter that would always lead to screaming and shouting and one of them walking off. The bantering they’re now used to after everything that had happened. But now, something in her chest catches when Elphaba leans back on her elbows and just laughs.

“And you’re not exactly great at paddling,” the taller girl replies, flicking a crumb of bread at her like they’re young again. “It takes two to canoe, you know. Not that you were much help.”

“Technically,” Glinda says, arching a brow, “You can canoe by yourself, Miss Thropp.”

Elphaba snorts, tossing a nugget into her mouth, and lets her head fall back against the couch behind her. Her wet braids cling to the base of her neck, and her knees are still pressed just barely against Glinda’s. “And yet,” she says, voice lower now, slower, “You joined me.”

There’s something smug in it, that little glint Elphaba gets when she knows she’s won. But underneath that, something gentler. Something Glinda can’t quite name. Almost like satisfaction knowing that she had eventually chosen her yet again. It makes her feel warm, which is bad because she knew she couldn’t blame it on the summer breeze when all their windows are open and they’re still damp from the lake.

“As if I had any other choice,” Glinda says softly, and it comes out without bite. Without irony. She says it like she means it, like even if she did have a choice, she would’ve chosen this anyway. That she would have chosen her.

The green girl doesn’t reply, at least not with words. She just watches her for a moment with her expression unreadable but open in a way it hasn’t been in months. Glinda feels like she should look away, but doesn’t. She just keeps chewing slowly, lips stained pink from the fruit punch, her heart doing that dumb little lurch again.

They sit in silence for a little while. Full of years and things they’ve never said and the quiet way their feet are starting to stretch toward each other. Every now and then their shoulders brush, and neither moves. The sun starts to dip outside the window, gold turning to orange, and the hush of the mess hall fades into the chirp of crickets and the rustle of the lake.

Eventually, Glinda leans her head against Elphaba’s shoulder without warning. It’s casual. Almost. But her breath catches the second she does it. And Elphaba, well, Elphaba doesn’t move. She doesn’t flinch or pull away or ruin it either. She just keeps eating, slower now, like if she goes too fast the moment will end.

They stay like that until the plates are empty and the light is gone and the damp in their clothes starts to feel more like warmth than discomfort. Neither of them says it. But they both feel it. That feeling they’ve buried deep in denial, that feeling that they never really stopped choosing each other.

Elphaba exhales slowly, a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding until the cold hits her lungs. She shifts just enough to reach for the towel draped over her shoulder, the one she’d used to wring out her own hair moments before. Without a word, she leans forward and wraps it around Glinda’s shoulders, tugging it into place with fingers that are colder than she’d like. Glinda’s still damp, shivering in that way she always does, the kind of chill that settles deep in her bones and takes hours to leave. Elphaba remembers. She remembers everything. The way Glinda hated cold showers, how she used to microwave her socks at their shared apartment when the mornings were too brisk. The way she used to burrow under Elphaba’s hoodie, too proud to ask, but not proud enough to stay cold.

“You’ll get sick,” Elphaba murmurs, not quite meeting her eyes. Her voice is quiet, careful. “You’ve already had your near-death experience yesterday, let’s not add a fever to the list.”

And then …

“Elphie—”

It’s soft. Barely above a whisper. The kind of thing that might’ve gone unnoticed if Elphaba hadn’t been waiting for it, hadn’t been craving it in secret for months now. And that’s the thing, she shouldn’t be stunned. Not really. But she is.

Because Glinda called her Elphie.

It isn’t just a nickname. It’s not the same as the way their friends sometimes tease her, or how the counselors shorten her name to “El.” No, Elphie is Glinda’s word. Always has been. Always will be. The syllables melt on her tongue the same way they used to, like they never stopped fitting there. And for Elphaba, hearing it again feels like something inside her has been cracked open, a dam holding back too many months of silence and what-ifs and unfinished sentences.

Her hands freeze mid-motion, fingers still gripping the edge of the towel. She doesn’t move, or doesn’t even breathe for a second too long. She could blame it on the cold. She could pretend the shiver running down her spine is because her own shirt is still clinging to her skin, or that the night air slipped in through the cracks in the cabin. But she knows better. This has nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the fact that Glinda just called her something she thought she’d never hear again.

“I…” Elphaba swallows, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. Her lips twitch into something like a smile, but it’s small and hesitant. Like she’s not sure she’s allowed to feel it. “It’s been a while since you called me that.”

And it has. It really has. Because after the breakup, they agreed — silently, bitterly, stupidly — to pretend they didn’t miss each other. To draw those lines. Last names only. No remnants of what they were. Only anger and frustration to be their form of communication. And now Glinda’s gone and crossed a line Elphaba forgot she wanted her to cross.

Glinda doesn’t answer at first. Her mouth opens slightly, like she wants to take it back. Like she’s scrambling for a different word, a way to rewind the moment, to press pause before things unravel too far. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to. “I didn’t mean to,” she says quietly, and then adds in an even quieter whisper, “But… I don’t want to take it back either.”

Her hands grip the towel a little tighter around her. The edges are fraying. The fabric smells faintly of lakewater and Elphaba’s citrus shampoo, and somehow that makes this worse. Or better. Or both. She doesn’t even know anymore. “Is it… is it okay if I still do?”

Elphaba’s heart does something traitorous in her chest. Twists. Drops. Flares. All at once. She wants to say yes. Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay. But instead, she fumbles, the way she always does when it comes to Glinda, having too much feeling wrapped up in too little room to hold it all.

“What happened to ‘artichoke’?” She teases, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. Her voice is thinner than she wants it to be, but she leans into the joke anyway, trying to deflect. “I don’t know, I think you calling me artichoke after that debate is better than Elphie.”

Glinda huffs a laugh, her cheeks pink and not just from the cold. “You cheated,” she says, nudging her with a shoulder. “That answer was not in the manual.”

There’s a pause. A beat. A second too long where their eyes linger on each other and neither of them looks away. “I just…” Elphaba says finally, softer now, voice almost lost beneath the hum of the night outside, “I didn’t expect it. That’s all.”

“Why not?” Glinda asks, and it comes out more like a whisper than a question. It’s frayed at the edges, like something too worn to hold its shape. There’s no sharpness left in her voice, nothing biting or bright. Just… her. Just Glinda. Small in this moment, stripped of every wall she’d ever built to protect herself from this very ache. To shield herself from Elphaba.

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? A wound. A bruise she keeps pressing, again and again, because somehow, the pain proves it mattered.

Knowing Elphaba had given up on even the tiniest thread of what they used to be makes her feel sick. She thinks of all the hours she spent wondering if there was still something left to salvage, some version of them that didn’t end in anger and distance. To hear Elphaba speak like she’d never been worthy of even hearing her name said with love wrecks her more than she ever expected.

Elphaba doesn’t quite look at her. Her voice is fragile and too quiet, a confession meant for no one but the space between them. “Because I don’t think I ever deserved to hear it from you again.”

The silence that follows is vast. It stretches out like the lake at night, all wide, unknowable and terrifying in how still it becomes. Elphaba swallows, her throat too tight, her body too tense. The words had been pulled from the part of her she keeps locked away, the part that still wakes up sometimes missing the weight of Glinda curled beside her in bed, or the way her name sounded like a promise when spoken by that particular voice.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. Her nod is shallow, almost imperceptible, but it’s all she can manage. Her heart is thundering in her chest and her palms are clammy and her stomach is twisted in something too sharp to be nerves and too familiar to be anything but love.

This could be the moment. She knows that. She feels it. The air is thick with it, that delicate pull toward each other, the almosts crackling in the space between their knees and hearts and half-empty plates. She could say it. She could apologize, ask for another try, say she’s sorry for every version of herself that ever made Glinda walk away. But her fear sinks its claws in.

So instead, she clears her throat and looks down at the mess of crumbs and wrappers and untouched sweets. “I should… I’ll clean up,” she mumbles, laughing softly, a pitiful little sound meant to deflect. She reaches for the plates like they’re lifelines, like if her hands are full, her mouth won’t betray her.

“Elphie,” Glinda says again. It’s gentle and unassuming, almost like she’s testing it. Like the name still tastes new in her mouth, sweet and sharp at once. Elphaba stiffens, not visibly, not enough to be seen, but inside, every cell lights up like a flare. “Yes?” She answers, eyes still fixed on the plastic fork she’s wiping off like it matters.

Glinda’s smile is small. “Nothing. I just wanted to say it again.”

And oh. That does something to her. Something quiet and earth-shaking all at once. “Right,” Elphaba says, her voice so thin it barely makes it out of her throat. She starts stacking plates again, movements stiff, distracted. If she keeps her hands busy, she won’t give in to the stupid hope clawing at her chest.

But Glinda keeps going, always braver than she thinks she is. Always saying the things Elphaba is too afraid to. “You deserve to hear it, you know?” she says. “It is your name.”

Her  heart doesn’t just flutter, instead it fumbles. Trips over itself in its haste to feel something so familiar, so dangerous. “It’s different coming from you,” she says before she can stop herself. It’s out there, and she hates how quickly it leaves her mouth, like it had been waiting for the right moment to escape. But it’s true. It’s always been true. Her name sounds like love when Glinda says it.

And maybe it’s because of that truth, or maybe it’s just the way Glinda is looking at her with softness that mirrors their past and a curiosity that says they’re not done that Elphaba forgets to breathe.

Glinda steps in close. They’re both standing now, and it happens so slowly Elphaba doesn’t realize the space has vanished until there’s none left. Until she can count every freckle on Glinda’s face, until she can smell the faint scent of her shampoo, until she can feel the tension humming between them like the first spark of a storm.

“Oh,” Glinda murmurs, squinting slightly, tilting her head. “You’ve got a little—”

“What?”

“There’s something on your face,” she says, her voice dropping. She reaches up before Elphaba can protest, her fingers warm and delicate against her cheek. “Let me.”

And Elphaba’s breath catches, not because of the gesture, but because of the way Glinda lingers. Her thumb doesn’t just brush the spot; it trails, feather-light, along the edge of her jaw, just under her ear. It’s not an accident. Not this time.

There’s something about the stillness that comes just before a kiss, the kind that’s born of history. Of muscle memory. Of two people who once knew each other down to the bone, and are now learning what it means to want again.

They stand there, barely inches apart, and the air feels thick. It’s pressed in, but it’s heavy, or suffocating, it’s just full. Full of the past, full of the what-ifs, full of the fear that maybe this could hurt more if they get it wrong a second time. But Glinda’s hand is still on her face, her thumb still hovering near Elphaba’s cheek, and Elphaba’s fingers curl softly around her wrist, like she’s afraid that letting go would mean undoing everything they’ve just stitched back together.

And without so much thought, Glinda leans in, not with confidence, but with care. She tilts her head slightly, her breath brushing Elphaba’s lips before her mouth ever does. There’s a question in her touch. A trembling sort of patience. She’s giving Elphaba time to pull away, to say no, to say not yet. But Elphaba doesn’t. She can’t. Her knees feel weak and her stomach is wrecked with nerves and all she can think of is the blonde’s lips on hers. 

And so it happens, impossibly soft, almost shy,  a kiss that feels less like a declaration and more like a remembering. Like two people who never really forgot how this felt, just forgot they were allowed to want it again. It almost felt like the first time they kissed. 

Elphaba’s lips part first, tentative and slow, and Glinda follows, gentle, warm and familiar in the way a favorite song is. It isn’t rushed. It doesn’t need to be. They kiss like they’re holding something fragile between them, like any wrong move might scare it off, like the only thing that matters is not breaking this moment.

It’s not the kind of kiss that answers every question. It doesn’t fix anything. But it does something far quieter: it acknowledges. It shows that this never stopped mattering.

Glinda’s hand slides behind Elphaba’s neck, her fingers threading into damp hair without meaning to. Elphaba breathes out sharply into her mouth, and the sound she makes is a mix of relief and disbelief, like she can’t quite believe she’s being touched like this again, like it’s real and not a memory.

She deepens it just slightly, the faintest pressure of her mouth, and she feels the way Glinda melts into it, like her body has been waiting for the permission to relax. It doesn’t last long, it doesn’t need to. When they part, it’s just a few inches, but their foreheads brush and their eyes stay closed. Elphaba exhales, shaky, and Glinda swallows a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a sob, she isn’t sure which.

Neither of them speaks. They don’t have the language for what just happened yet. But the silence says what words can’t.

You’re still the only person I’ve ever wanted like this.

They would’ve stayed like that, suspended in the afterglow of almost if the world hadn’t crept back in. The sounds arrive slowly at first, like echoes bleeding through a dream. A wheel bumping softly against the path. The unmistakable cadence of Boq’s laugh. Pfannee’s singsong teasing as ShenShen curses under her breath about the lock. And then Fiyero’s booming voice, just loud enough to jolt them back into the present.

Their bodies hadn’t moved yet. Glinda’s fingers had only just slipped from Elphaba’s, but the air between them hadn’t settled. They blink like they’re remembering how to be in their own skin again. There’s a pause, like they’re both debating whether to say something about the kiss. But neither of them does.

Instead, Elphaba is the first to step back. Not harshly. Not like regret. Just gently, like she’s tucking something away. Glinda lets out a quiet breath and glances toward the sound of their friends getting closer. She doesn’t look disappointed. She had no reason to be, but she is quietly stunned in that way people are when the night turns out different than they thought it would.

They share a glance, the kind of smile that says they weren’t ready to talk about it yet. And they both seem okay with that. By the time the door swings open, Elphaba’s moved to the kitchen, her hands busying themselves with stacking plates, rinsing the edges of sticky chip crumbs and half-eaten chicken nuggets. She doesn’t look over, but Glinda can feel her awareness like a thread between them.

Fiyero stumbles in first, fresh from the showers with damp curls and a dramatic grimace on his face. “Ugh, it smells like wet dog in here,” he announces, recoiling slightly at the squelch of his shoes on the soaked carpet. His eyes widened at the puddles. “You two seriously haven’t showered yet?”

Glinda doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t even try to look innocent. She just stands a little taller, tilting her chin up with that practiced, pleasant smile. Her gaze flits toward Elphaba, who, despite herself, nearly fumbles the plate at the sink. “We’ve been…” she says with just a hint of mischief curling at the edges of her voice, “…busy.”

Elphaba doesn’t turn around, but the way her shoulders stiffen for a second, and the way her hand slows at the faucet says it all. Fiyero makes a noise of vague disgust. His thoughts clouded by the stench of the wet carpet that Pfannee was kicking out of the door to save themselves from that he barely had the time to tease them. “Gross. Honestly, I don’t even want to know.”

“You never do,” Glinda murmurs, and she’s still smiling, but her eyes are somewhere else entirely. They’re not on the mess or on the rug that’s halfway out the door. Not even their friends who are filing into the cabin, full of noise and complaints and inside jokes. Her eyes are on Elphaba.

And even though the moment has passed, the weight of it hasn’t. Not really.

“Well,” Boq huffed, dropping their armful of items onto the countertop with a clatter that startled no one except Pfannee, who scowled at him. He rubbed at his wrist, shooting a quick glance between the two girls before clearing his throat. “We really just came by to drop off your stuff. We haven’t eaten yet, so we figured, you know, we’d invite you,” he said, eyes flicking from Elphaba and Glinda, noticing the softened edge to Elphaba’s face, the small curve of her mouth that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t her usual scowl either. It made his chest warm, seeing her like that, but he didn’t push. Didn’t dare. Instead, he added, a little awkwardly, “You’ve eaten already, though.”

“Thanks for dropping the stuff off.” Elphaba’s voice cut in, abrupt but not unkind. She wiped her hand on the faded dish towel hanging from the drawer before reaching out and laying it gently on Boq’s small shoulder, squeezing once. Her touch was grounding and Boq flushed under it, ducking his head like he was eight years old again and she’d just told off a playground bully for him.

Nessa, perched primly in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, watched her sister with an unreadable gaze. She tilted her head, studying the way Elphaba’s eyes seemed a little brighter, the faint flush on her cheekbones, the quiet glow about her that she hadn’t seen in a long time, years, maybe. But Nessa said nothing. She simply nodded once, brushing invisible lint from her skirt as she murmured, “Alright.”

And that was it. That should have been it. Their friends left without any further questions, no more teasing, no dramatic commentary about the soupy smell that clung to the ruined rug or the humid warmth lingering in the cabin air. Pfannee swanned out dramatically, Boq wheeled Nessa over the threshold, ShenShen muttered something about needing to borrow Glinda’s hair mask later, and Fiyero shouted a promise to save them seats at dinner, his voice fading into the dusk.

The door clicked shut behind them, and silence fell like a dropped curtain.  Elphaba stood there for a moment, towel still draped over her hand, staring at the empty doorway. Her chest felt too tight for her ribcage, like her heart was pressing against bone, desperate to do something. To speak. To move. To reach out and touch the girl she had just kissed like it wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

She waited and listened to the fading laughter outside until it was just the chirp of insects and the distant slap of lake water against the dock. Then, finally, she turned, ready to cross the small space between the kitchen and their shared room, ready to say something. Anything. Because she didn’t know what it meant, what that kiss was supposed to be, or if it was just nostalgia or desperation or a crack in her chest that let something old and unfinished pour out. She needed to ask. She needed to hear it from Glinda’s lips before she lost her nerve.

But when she stepped into the room, Glinda wasn’t there. She could hear the shower running, a faint hum of water against tile, the quiet clink of bottles and the creak of pipes older than both of them combined. The bathroom door was closed. The light glowed yellow beneath it. Elphaba stood there, towel limp in her hand, swallowing hard against the stone lodged in her throat.

Inside, Glinda stood under the spray, her forehead pressed against the cool tile as steam curled around her, sticking her hair to her back in wet, golden strands. She barely felt the water. Barely felt her own shaking fingers as she reached for the shampoo, squeezing it into her palm with automatic movements. All she could feel, all she could think about, was the way Elphaba’s lips had felt against hers. The quiet devastation of it. How it hadn’t been rough or biting or defensive like she’d expected. This one had been gentle. Like an apology and a question and a promise all at once.

She didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know if she wanted to talk about it because if she talked about it, it would become real. And if it was real, then it could end. Again. So she stayed in the shower until the water turned lukewarm, staring at the tile, her thoughts looping around themselves like a snake eating its tail.

Elphaba waited. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped tight until her knuckles burned. Every so often, she’d glance at the bathroom door, like she could will it open. Like she could will Glinda to say something first. To do something first. Because Elphaba didn’t know how to do it alone.

When Glinda finally emerged she just offered a smile to Elphaba. She climbed into her bed, back facing her, silent except for the faint rustle of blankets and the sigh that escaped her lips, long and trembling.

Elphaba swallowed and ooked down at her own hands. Neither of them spoke. The room filled with their silence, thick and throbbing with everything unsaid. They lay there, both wide awake, both desperate for the other to say it first. That it happened. That it mattered. That it meant something.

They didn’t. So, the taller girl just left and willed herself to shower with no other thoughts in her head but just that kiss replaying in her mind over and over again. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day weighed them down, dragging them into restless, silent sleep.

The day was too much, and the words aren’t there yet. Maybe, hopefully, they could talk about it in the morning.