A Visit
Elphaba had been dreading this visit since the moment she agreed to it.
Not that she didn’t care about Nessa—she did. She always had. But their relationship had never been easy, and the weight of obligation sat heavy on Elphaba’s shoulders as she made her way across campus toward Nessa’s dorm.
She barely had time to knock before the door swung open, revealing Nessa perched in her wheelchair, arms crossed.
"Well," Nessa said, arching a sharp brow. "Look who finally decided to acknowledge my existence."
Elphaba sighed. "Nice to see you too, Nessa."
Nanny bustled into view from behind Nessa, her ever-present warmth cutting through the tension. "Fabala!" she greeted, pulling Elphaba into a quick hug. "It’s been too long, my dear."
Elphaba felt herself relax just slightly at the embrace. "Hey, Nanny."
"Come in, come in," Nanny ushered her inside, ignoring Nessa’s disapproving huff.
The dorm was pristine—far neater than Elphaba’s, and certainly leagues more organized than Glinda’s side of their shared space. Everything had its place, from the carefully arranged books on the shelves to the vase of fresh-cut flowers on the table.
Elphaba sat stiffly on the chair across from Nessa, waiting for the inevitable interrogation.
"You’re settling in well, I assume?" Nessa asked, voice clipped.
"As well as I can," Elphaba replied.
"How’s your roommate?"
Elphaba hesitated for half a second too long, and that was all Nessa needed.
"Oh?" Nessa’s lips curled. "Don’t tell me you’re making friends, Fabala."
Elphaba scowled. "Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?"
Nessa shrugged. "Because it’s you. You don’t do friends."
Elphaba rolled her eyes. "I tolerate people."
"Who?"
Elphaba hesitated again, and Nessa caught it instantly.
"Ah," Nessa murmured, an amused glint in her eye. "Let me guess. Glinda Upland?"
Elphaba tensed. "We share a dorm. That’s all."
Nessa smirked. "You’ve always had an unfortunate taste for unattainable things."
Elphaba scoffed. "Don’t be ridiculous."
But she could already see the wheels turning in Nessa’s head, like she knew something Elphaba wasn’t ready to admit yet.
Nanny returned, setting tea on the table between them, breaking the moment before it could spiral further.
"Father called," Nessa said, almost offhandedly.
Elphaba stiffened. "And?"
"He asked about you."
Elphaba exhaled sharply, already exhausted. "And I assume you told him I was still alive?"
"I told him you hadn’t come to see me yet."
Elphaba groaned. "Of course you did, that's why he called me."
"You deserve it."
Elphaba was about to argue when Nessa leaned back slightly, studying her with careful curiosity.
"You know," she mused, "I always thought it was funny."
Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"How you used to follow Sarima around like a lost puppy when we were younger."
Elphaba froze.
Her pulse stuttered in her throat. "I did not."
"You did," Nessa said smugly. "You were obsessed with her."
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. "She was nice to me. That’s all."
Nessa hummed, too knowing, too smug.
"Sure," she said lightly. "That’s all it was."
Elphaba clenched her fists beneath the table.
She hadn’t thought about Sarima in years—hadn’t let herself. But now, the memory surfaced unbidden, pulling her back to childhood...
It had been late spring, just warm enough that the breeze smelled of damp earth and growing things. Elphaba had been sitting outside the library, legs tucked beneath her, a book open on her lap. She hadn’t really been reading—her eyes had been too distracted, flickering up every time she caught movement in her peripheral vision.
Sarima.
She was leaning against the garden wall, laughing at something one of her friends had said, her dark hair catching the sunlight. She always seemed so… effortlessly radiant. Confident in a way Elphaba never could be. She moved through the world like it was built for her, like she belonged in it without question.
Elphaba had wanted to be like that.
She had wanted to be closer.
So she had worked up the nerve to approach, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her coat to hide the nervous way her fingers twitched.
"You always sit alone," Sarima had observed, tilting her head.
Elphaba had shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "I don’t mind."
Sarima had smiled, something warm and knowing in her expression. "You’re always reading. What’s it today?"
Elphaba had hesitated before holding up the book, only for Sarima to laugh.
"History? Figures," she had teased. "I bet you’re smarter than all the professors."
Elphaba had scoffed, looking away to hide the flush creeping up her neck. "Doubtful."
But Sarima had just smiled and leaned in slightly, close enough that Elphaba had caught the faint scent of her perfume—jasmine and something deeper, something grounding.
"Well," Sarima had murmured, her voice quiet and just for Elphaba, "I think you’re the most interesting person here."
And that had been it. That was the moment Elphaba had known. Knew that the flutter in her chest wasn’t admiration, wasn’t just the thrill of someone treating her like she mattered.
It had been something more.
Something undeniable.
Something that made her head spin and her stomach clench, because she didn’t understand it then, not fully.
But she did now.
Elphaba blinked back to reality, her throat dry, her hands tight around the arms of her chair.
Nessa was watching her with pure amusement.
"Anyway," Nessa continued, sipping her tea as if she hadn’t just unraveled Elphaba’s entire subconscious, "I assume you’re still pretending that doesn’t mean anything?"
Elphaba’s teeth ground together.
She wasn’t going to give Nessa the satisfaction.
So she stood.
"I should go," she said stiffly.
Nessa smirked, victorious. "Oh, Fabala. You’re so transparent."
Elphaba ignored her and turned to Nanny instead, giving the older woman a genuine smile.
"It was good to see you," she said.
"You too, dear," Nanny replied, eyes full of warmth. "Don’t be a stranger, now."
Elphaba nodded, then turned toward the door, already desperate to escape.
Nessa’s voice followed after her.
"Say hi to Glinda for me!"
Elphaba slammed the door on her way out.