The Kissing Theory

Elphaba paced.

Her own room.

Like a madwoman.

Which, she supposed, was fitting, because at that exact moment, she felt mad. Absolutely, entirely, horrendously mad.

What in Oz had just happened?

She ran a hand through her hair, ignoring the way it was trembling slightly.

It had just been practice.

That was all.

Glinda wanted to hone her skills, and Elphaba—like the absolute fool she was—had agreed.

Nothing significant. Nothing serious.

So why, in the name of science, had her entire body reacted like that?

Why had her stomach flipped when Glinda had straddled her like it was nothing?

Why had her pulse spiked when she heard the breathless way Glinda whispered, “Oh”?

And why, for the love of Oz, was she still feeling the ghost of Glinda’s lips on hers?

A knock at the door.

Elphaba jumped.

Her entire body went rigid.

And then—

“Elphie?”

Oh, no.

Glinda’s voice was too sweet, too innocent, and Elphaba knew—she just knew—that she was about to be subjected to torture.

“Go away,” Elphaba muttered.

The door opened anyway.

Glinda stepped inside, looking perfectly unbothered, hair still in immaculate curls, like she hadn’t just spent the last fifteen minutes absolutely wrecking Elphaba’s sanity.

She closed the door behind her, crossed her arms, and grinned.

“So,” she drawled, “are you going to tell me why you ran away like that?”

Elphaba scowled. “I didn’t run.”

Glinda tilted her head. “You quite literally grabbed a shoe and fled the scene.”

Elphaba opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Then, voice tight, she said, “It was a strategic retreat.”

Glinda bit her lip, fighting a giggle. “Oh? And what were you retreating from?”

Elphaba crossed her arms. “Irrelevant.”

Glinda took a step forward.

Elphaba immediately took a step back.

Glinda’s eyes sparkled.

“Elphie,” she cooed, voice full of amusement, “are you nervous?”

Elphaba bristled. “Of course not.”

Glinda hummed, unconvinced.

Then, with a maddening tilt of her head, she asked, “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Elphaba froze.

Then, very deliberately, she forced herself to meet Glinda’s gaze.

It was a mistake.

Because Glinda knew.

Oh, she knew.

Her eyes were glittering, lips slightly curved in something far too pleased, and she was looking at Elphaba like she was some sort of fascinating experiment.

Elphaba’s stomach twisted.

She cleared her throat, forcing her voice into something steady. “It’s late. We should go to sleep.”

Glinda blinked. “That’s it?”

Elphaba nodded sharply. “That’s it.”

Glinda studied her for a moment.

Then—

With a tiny, knowing smile—

She said, “Alright, Elphie.”

And turned toward her bed.

Elphaba let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

She quickly settled into her own bed, facing the wall, determined to ignore the way her heartbeat still hadn’t calmed.

Silence settled.

She exhaled again.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d get some peace.

Then—

The mattress dipped.

Elphaba jumped.

She twisted around immediately, and—

Glinda was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands folded neatly in her lap, smiling down at her like she belonged there.

Elphaba’s brain stopped functioning.

“Glinda,” she said, voice strained, “what are you doing?”

Glinda tilted her head. “Just wanted to say something before bed.”

Elphaba swallowed. “You—you could have said it from your own bed.”

Glinda giggled. “But this is more intimate.”

Elphaba made a horrible choking sound.

Glinda laughed softly, then—

Before Elphaba could process it—

She leaned down—

And pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Elphaba froze.

Every muscle in her body locked up.

She could feel Glinda’s lips against her scalp, soft and warm and gentle, and she had never felt something so devastatingly tender in her entire life.

And then—

Glinda pulled back, smiling down at her like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Elphaba, meanwhile, had forgotten how to breathe.

“Sleep well, Elphie,” Glinda whispered.

And then—

Right as she stood up—

She turned, gave a tiny little smirk, and said—

“Oh! I almost forgot.”

Elphaba blinked, still completely frozen.

Glinda twirled a curl around her finger.

“Tomorrow,” she said, voice light, “is our last practice session.”

Elphaba blinked again. “What.”

Glinda smiled sweetly. “My date with Fiyero is tomorrow night, remember?”

Elphaba’s stomach dropped.

Glinda hummed. “So! We’ll have one final lesson before that.”

Elphaba could not process this.

Glinda winked. “Make sure you’re well-rested, Elphie.”

Then she sauntered off to her own bed, climbing under the covers like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Elphaba’s already fragile sanity.

Elphaba lay completely still.

Her brain was screaming.

Final practice.

Final practice.

Tomorrow was the last time Glinda would kiss her.

Because after that—

She’d be kissing Fiyero.

Elphaba stared at the ceiling.

And for the first time—

She realized that she hated that thought.