milo

the door clicked softly behind them, and for a moment, neither moved.

it wasn’t an awkward silence. it was the kind that felt like a held breath, like the world had paused politely to let them catch up to whatever was happening between them.

galinda stood a few steps inside the room, fingers curled lightly at her sides, suddenly aware of how small the dorm felt with elphaba in it. not cramped—never cramped—but full. full of presence, full of warmth, full of something she didn’t have a name for yet.

elphaba lingered near the door, her posture straight but her expression uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to exist comfortably in this space. her eyes flicked around the room—over the ribbons draped on the vanity, the neat stack of textbooks, the sunlight spilling across the rug—before returning to galinda.

and when they did, they softened.

“you really do look bright today,” elphaba said quietly.

galinda’s heart fluttered. “you already said that.”

“i know.” elphaba’s lips curved, just barely. “i wanted to say it again.”

galinda felt her breath catch in her throat. she wasn’t used to compliments from elphaba—at least not ones that sounded like they were pulled straight from her chest instead of her brain.

“oh,” she said, because her vocabulary had temporarily abandoned her.

she stepped further into the room, gesturing toward the small sofa by the window. “do you want to sit?”

elphaba hesitated, her gaze flicking to the sofa like it was a test she hadn’t studied for. “are you sure?”

galinda let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “elphie, i’m not inviting you into a dragon’s den. it’s a sofa.”

“your sofa,” elphaba corrected, voice gentle.

galinda’s cheeks warmed. “yes. my sofa. which you are allowed to sit on.”

elphaba nodded, moving toward it with careful steps, like she was approaching a fragile spell component. she sat stiffly at first, hands folded in her lap, shoulders tense. then, slowly, she relaxed—inch by inch—until she looked almost comfortable.

galinda sat beside her, close enough that their knees brushed when she shifted.

elphaba froze.

galinda didn’t.

“is that okay?” she asked softly.

elphaba swallowed. “yes.”

galinda smiled, small and triumphant. “good.”

the sunlight pooled across their legs, warm and golden. galinda watched the way it touched elphaba’s skin, turning the green into something luminous. she wondered if elphaba knew she looked like a painting in this light. she wondered if she should tell her. she wondered if she would combust if she tried.

“galinda,” elphaba said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.

galinda turned toward her. “yes?”

elphaba’s eyes were wide, earnest, impossibly green. “why… why did you think about me this morning?”

galinda’s breath stuttered. “i—”

elphaba leaned in just slightly, not enough to crowd her, but enough to make the question feel intimate. “you said you were thinking about me.”

galinda’s pulse fluttered like wings. “i… was.”

“why?”

galinda could lie. she could deflect. she could make a joke. she could pretend she hadn’t spent the morning replaying every moment elphaba had looked at her with that soft, careful curiosity.

instead, she let herself be honest.

“because you looked at me yesterday like i was… something worth looking at.”

elphaba’s breath hitched, her eyes widening just a fraction.

galinda continued, her voice softer, braver, “and because when you talk to me, it feels like you’re seeing me. really seeing me. and i… like that.”

elphaba stared at her, stunned, as if galinda had spoken a spell she didn’t recognize. her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach out but didn’t trust herself to.

“galinda,” she whispered, “i don’t usually… feel seen.”

galinda’s chest tightened. “well. i see you.”

elphaba’s eyes softened in a way that made galinda feel warm all over, like sunlight had settled beneath her skin.

“i see you too,” elphaba murmured.

galinda’s heart bloomed—bigger this time, brighter, like it had been waiting for those words.

their hands were close. so close. a breath apart.

galinda inhaled, slow and steady, and let her fingers inch forward until they brushed elphaba’s knuckles.

elphaba didn’t pull away.

she turned her hand, just slightly, just enough that their fingers aligned.

not holding.

not yet.

but touching.

a promise.

galinda felt her whole world tilt toward that touch.

“sunshine,” elphaba whispered, almost to herself.

galinda blinked. “what?”

elphaba looked at her, cheeks warm. “you feel like sunshine.”

galinda’s breath caught, her heart soared, and she knew absolutely knew—that she would think about that for days.

galinda didn’t usually wake up thinking about someone.

she woke up thinking about outfits, or assignments she’d forgotten, or whether the dining hall would have the good pastries. normal things. predictable things.

but today, the first thing in her mind was elphaba.

specifically: the way elphaba had looked at her yesterday. soft. careful. almost curious.

galinda pressed her hands to her cheeks, which were already warm. “ridiculous,” she muttered to herself. “completely ridiculous.”

she got dressed slowly, choosing a ribbon that matched her eyes a little too perfectly. she told herself it wasn’t for anyone. she told herself she just liked looking nice.

she was lying and she knew it.

when she reached the dining hall, elphaba was already there same table, same cup of tea, same posture that somehow managed to look both rigid and relaxed at once.

galinda’s heart did a small, traitorous flutter.

“morning,” she said, sliding into her seat.

elphaba looked up, and something in her expression softened. “good morning.”

galinda tried not to melt. she failed.

“you’re early,” elphaba added.

“i can be early,” galinda said, lifting her chin. “sometimes.”

“i didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“well you implied it.”

elphaba’s lips twitched. “i didn’t.”

galinda stabbed a piece of melon. “you did.”

elphaba watched her for a moment, eyes warm in a way that made galinda’s stomach flip. “you look… bright today.”

galinda blinked. “bright?”

“yes. like you slept well.”

galinda absolutely had not slept well. she’d spent half the night replaying every moment from yesterday and the other half imagining new ones.

“i always look bright,” she said, trying to sound breezy.

“you do,” elphaba agreed softly.

galinda nearly dropped her fork.

spell theory was marginally better than yesterday, but only because galinda had decided she would not, under any circumstances, let elphaba fluster her again.

this plan lasted approximately four minutes.

elphaba leaned over her notes, pointing at a line of symbols. “this part is backwards.”

galinda nodded, pretending she understood anything at all. “right. backwards. of course.”

“you don’t know what i’m talking about,” elphaba said.

“i do,” galinda lied.

elphaba gave her a look the kind that saw straight through her, the kind that made galinda feel both exposed and strangely safe.

“here,” elphaba murmured, reaching out to adjust galinda’s wand.

their fingers brushed.

galinda’s breath caught.

she didn’t squeak this time. she was proud of that. she did, however, forget how to blink.

“better?” elphaba asked.

galinda nodded too quickly. “yes. perfect. wonderful. amazing.”

elphaba’s cheeks warmed. “it’s just wand placement.”

“well,” galinda said softly, “it’s nicer when you help.”

elphaba froze for half a second just long enough for galinda to notice.

just long enough for her to hope.

after class, they walked back to their dorm again. the path felt familiar now, like something they’d quietly claimed together.

galinda kept glancing at elphaba, trying to be subtle. she was not subtle.

“you’re staring,” elphaba said.

galinda nearly tripped. “i am not.”

“you are.”

“i’m… thinking.”

“about what?”

galinda hesitated. she could say homework. she could say lunch. she could say anything safe.

instead, she said, very quietly, “you.”

elphaba stopped walking.

galinda’s heart leapt into her throat. “i mean not in a weird way. just you know. thinking. casually. lightly. gently.”

“gently,” elphaba repeated, sounding dazed.

galinda nodded, cheeks burning. “yes. gently.”

elphaba looked at her for a long moment, something soft and startled in her eyes.

“galinda,” she said, voice low, “something is happening.”

galinda swallowed. “i know.”

“does it… scare you?”

galinda thought about it. the warmth in her chest. the flutter in her stomach. the way elphaba’s presence felt like sunlight she didn’t know she’d been missing.

“no,” she said. “i think it feels… nice.”

elphaba exhaled, slow and relieved. “yes. it does.”

they reached the dorm steps, and this time, galinda didn’t wait for elphaba to open the door.

she reached out first not to touch, not yet, but close enough that their hands hovered inches apart.

a hint. a question. a beginning.

elphaba looked down at their almost‑touching hands, then back up at galinda.

and she smiled.

small. soft. real.

galinda felt her heart bloom.

“come on,” she whispered. “let’s go inside.”

and elphaba followed her.

authors note!!!

(do we even do that on tumblr???)

galinda liked mornings at shiz more than she admitted. not the early classes, not the cold floors, not the way the dorm windows always let in a draft no matter how many times she complained. but she liked this part the quiet before the day began, when the world felt soft and unhurried.

she stretched, blinked the sleep from her eyes, and rolled onto her side.

elphaba was already awake.

not reading. not scribbling notes. not practicing spells under her breath. just sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees, staring out the window as the first light touched the campus lawns.

her silhouette was still, thoughtful, almost gentle.

galinda’s breath caught before she could stop it.

“mornin,” she said, trying to sound casual.

elphaba turned, and the faintest smile tugged at her mouth. “youre up early.”

“youre up earlier.”

“that’s not unusual.”

galinda pushed her blanket aside and sat up. “still. you look… peaceful.”

elphaba raised an eyebrow. “peaceful?”

“well yes. or maybe contemplative. or oh, never mind.” galinda waved a hand, flustered. “you just look nice in the morning light.”

elphaba blinked startled. “nice?”

galinda felt her face warm. “i meant presentable. awake. not that you aren’t always—well”

elphaba’s smile grew small but unmistakably amused. “you don’t have to explain.”

galinda huffed crossing her arms. “you’re making fun of me.”

“only a little.”

the room fell into a comfortable quiet. galinda watched elphaba’s profile, the way the sunlight softened the sharp lines of her face. she’d never admit it out loud, but she liked seeing elphaba like this unguarded, unbothered, almost serene.

it made something warm settle in her chest.

“did you sleep?” galinda asked.

“some.” elphaba glanced at the desk, where a book lay open, and a half‑finished cup of tea had gone cold. “i was reading.”

“you always say that like it’s an excuse.”

“it usually is.”

galinda laughed softly. “you should let me make you tea that doesn’t taste like boiled sadness.”

elphaba snorted. “your tea tastes like sugar pretending to be tea.”

“that’s the point darling.”

galinda stood padded across the room and picked up the cold cup. “i’ll make you a new one.”

“you don’t have to.”

“ i know.” she set the cup aside and reached for the kettle. “but i want to.”

elphaba watched her for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. “you’re unusually kind this morning.”

galinda paused. “am i not usually kind?”

“you are.” elphaba hesitated. “just… this feels different.”

galinda swallowed. “different how?”

elphaba looked away. “i’m not sure yet.”

the kettle began to warm, filling the room with a soft hum. galinda leaned against the counter, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. close enough to feel the warmth radiating from elphaba’s skin. close enough to notice the faint scent of old books and mint that always clung to her.

close enough to realize her heart was beating too fast.

“elphie?” she said quietly.

elphaba’s eyes flicked to hers. “yes?”

galinda opened her mouth, then closed it again. she didn’t know what she’d meant to say. only that something was shifting between them something delicate, something new, something she wasn’t sure she should touch yet.

“nothing,” she said softly. “just… good morning.”

elphaba’s expression softened. “good morning, galinda.”

the kettle whistled, sharp and bright, breaking the moment. galinda turned away quickly, hoping elphaba hadn’t noticed the blush creeping up her neck.

but elphaba had noticed.

and she smiled a small, private smile meant for no one but herself.

because something was changing.

and she felt it too.

(authors note!!!)