When it rains
The storm had come out of nowhere.
One minute, the sky had been overcast but dry. The next, thunder cracked through the air, and rain came pouring down in heavy sheets. Students sprinted for cover, umbrellas flipping inside out, the sidewalks slick with water in seconds.
Glinda felt her usually anxiety when a storm rolled in, but that was nothing compared to what she felt when she realized Elphaba wasn’t in the dorm.
It wasn’t unusual for her to disappear for hours, especially after classes ended for the day. She practically lived in the library. But now, with the storm raging outside, an uneasy feeling settled deep in Glinda’s chest.
She’s fine. She’s probably already inside somewhere. But, it was late and most of the academic buildings would be closed for the day.
Then Crope mentioned, “Didn’t Elphaba say she was going for a walk earlier?”
Glinda went cold.
Her breath hitched. Elphaba. Outside. In the rain.
The chair scraped back before she even realized she was standing.
“Where are you going?” Boq called after her.
Glinda didn’t answer.
---
She ran.
She didn’t think. She didn’t stop. She just ran into the storm, the rain soaking her within seconds, her heart pounding louder than the thunder.
Her body screamed at her to turn back, her instincts begged her to get inside, to get away from the crashing sky and the rolling black clouds. Every clap of thunder sent a jolt through her body, but she pushed forward, shoving past fleeing students, water pooling in her shoes, her breath ragged.
She knew exactly what this storm could do to Elphaba.
She knew, because she had done it to her before.
The memory hit her like a slap—Elphaba’s pained hiss, the angry red burns blooming across her skin, the guilt that had settled, thick and unmoving, in Glinda’s chest since that night.
And now it was happening again. But this time, Glinda could stop it.
She found her just outside the library, half-drenched and hunched against a wall, breathing heavy.
“Elphaba!”
Elphaba’s head snapped up at the sound of her name, her jaw clenched tight, her arms pulled in close to her chest.
Glinda was already running, heart pounding in her throat. When she got closer, she saw the damage—the rain had soaked through her sleeves, droplets clinging to her skin like poison, leaving behind faint, red, irritated burns.
Panic seized Glinda’s chest.
“Oh, Oz, Elphie—why didn’t you get inside?!”
“I was—” Elphaba inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut. “I was on my way back.”
Glinda didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her wrist—carefully, mindful of where the burns were forming—and pulled her along.
“There’s shelter over there,” she urged, nodding toward a covered gazebo just across the courtyard. “Come on.”
---
The rain pounded against the roof as they sat beneath the gazebo, crossed legged facing one another, the storm showing no signs of stopping.
Glinda was shaking, her soaked curls clinging to her face, her breath still coming too fast.
Elphaba, despite the burns, was calmer than her.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Just the sound of the storm, the occasional distant crack of thunder, and the rhythmic dripping of rain pooling around them.
Glinda was the first to break the silence. "I was scared, you know."
Elphaba glanced at her, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Of the storm?"
Glinda shook her head. "Of not finding you."
Elphaba exhaled, watching her carefully. "You didn’t have to come looking for me."
Glinda turned to her, rain still dripping down her cheeks, her lips parted slightly, expression unreadable. “Yes, I did.”
Something shifted between them in that moment—something neither of them was quite ready to name.
Elphaba, despite herself, reached out and brushed a wet curl from Glinda’s face, ignoring the sting. "You hate storms."
Glinda let out a breathless, almost humorless laugh. "And you hate rain. Look at us."
They both looked a mess—soaked through, trembling from cold and nerves alike—but neither moved.
The storm raged on around them, but for now, they just waited it out. Together.
---
By the time they got back, Glinda was in full caretaker mode.
“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the couch. Glinda ran and tossed a towel towards Elphaba.
Elphaba, still shivering, didn’t argue. She sank onto the cushions, her arms still held stiffly at her sides.
Glinda moved quickly, grabbing supplies from Elphaba’s own carefully organized stash of oils and ointments. She knelt in front of her, her hands moving with gentle precision, brushing damp strands of hair away as she helped Elphaba remove her shirt and inspected the burns. They both ignored the blush on their faces.
She worked in complete focus, her lips pressed together, her fingers skimming lightly over irritated skin.
Elphaba watched her. Watched the way her brows furrowed in concern, the way her hands did everything right.
“…How do you know how to do this?” Elphaba’s voice was quieter than usual.
Glinda didn’t look up. “You did the same thing last time.”
A pause.
“I was paying attention.”
Elphaba swallowed, her chest tight. She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t know how to say anything to that. People caring for her felt like a foreign concept.
The room felt smaller, quieter. The storm still raged outside, rain pounding against the windows, but inside—inside, it was just them.
Glinda’s hands slowed, her fingers lingering just a second too long before she pulled away.
“There.” Her voice was softer now, gentler. “Better.”
Elphaba should have pulled her hands back. She should have made some snide remark, or waved it off, or done anything to shift the weight pressing between them.
But she didn’t.
She let Glinda’s hands rest on her own for just a moment longer.
And in that moment, neither of them said anything at all.
---