So this is love?
Glinda exhaled shakily, still holding Elphaba against her as their body trembled from the force of their emotions. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of their chest, their breath coming in uneven gasps against her shoulder. She didn’t dare let go—not yet. Not until she was sure Elphaba wouldn’t slip away from her.
A deep ache settled in Glinda’s chest, one that she couldn’t ignore. Seeing Elphaba like this—so broken, so utterly lost—tore at something inside of her, something she hadn’t wanted to name before. But right now, it was undeniable. This wasn’t just concern. It wasn’t just friendship. This was something deeper, something she had spent far too long trying to push away.
Elphaba had always been the strongest person Glinda knew. They had never let anyone break them, had never let the world crush them beneath its weight. But now, in this moment, Glinda saw something she had never allowed herself to see before—Elphaba wasn’t invincible. They weren’t unshakable. They weren’t above pain, above heartbreak, above the desperate, unbearable loneliness that clawed at them.
And that realization nearly destroyed her.
“Come on,” Glinda whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back just enough to see Elphaba’s face, their cheeks still damp with tears. “Let me help you, darling. We need to take care of this, alright?”
Elphaba hesitated, their gaze flickering downward as if ashamed. “You don’t have to,” they mumbled.
Glinda swallowed hard, cupping their face gently, tilting it up so their eyes met. “I want to.”
Elphaba searched her face for any sign of pity, any indication that Glinda was only doing this because she felt obligated. But there was none. There was only quiet determination. So after a long pause, Elphaba finally gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Glinda helped them up slowly, keeping a steady arm around them as they walked toward the bed. Elphaba moved stiffly, exhaustion and lingering pain weighing them down, and Glinda hated how fragile they looked. She had never seen them this way before—exposed, vulnerable, unguarded. And yet, even now, Elphaba was still breathtaking.
It hit Glinda suddenly how much she adored them.
It wasn’t just admiration. It wasn’t just fondness. It was the way her heart clenched when she saw them hurting, the way her entire being ached at the thought of them suffering alone. It was the way she wanted to pull them into her arms and never let go, to shelter them from every cruel thing the world had ever thrown at them.
Glinda had loved them for so long, she just hadn’t let herself see it. She had loved them for so long, in ways she had refused to name, in feelings she had buried beneath layers of fear and expectation.
Glinda let out a quiet breath as her fingers brushed against Elphaba’s. She had spent so long running—running from the truth, from her own heart. But now, looking at them, broken and raw yet still here, still fighting, she knew she couldn’t run anymore.
Elphaba sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, watching as Glinda rummaged through a small wooden box on her dresser, searching for bandages and antiseptic
“This might sting,” Glinda murmured as she cleaned the wound with gentle precision. Elphaba winced slightly but didn’t pull away. Glinda was careful, so careful, as if afraid that if she pressed too hard, Elphaba would shatter beneath her touch.
Elphaba’s breath hitched when Glinda’s fingertips ghosted over their wrist, her touch featherlight yet impossibly grounding. It was too much and not enough all at once.
Glinda, however, wasn’t even aware of the effect she was having. She was too focused, too lost in the details of them—the sharp lines of their face, the way their lashes fluttered when they blinked, the faint tremble of their hands. How had she never accepted just how deeply she loved them?
Her heart ached at the thought of how much pain Elphaba had carried alone, most of it being because of her.
She finished tending to the wound and carefully wrapped a bandage around their arm, her hands steady despite the storm inside her. When she was done, she let her fingers linger for a moment, running her thumb lightly over the bandage as if to silently reassure them that they were safe.
“There,” she said softly. “All done.”
Elphaba didn’t respond at first. They were staring at her, their expression unreadable, their eyes holding something Glinda couldn’t quite place.
“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.
Elphaba shook their head slightly, exhaling a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Nothing. You just… you don’t have to do this, you know.”
Glinda’s chest tightened. “I know. But I choose to. I told you I'd help you, and this is the first step.”
A beat of silence passed between them, thick with something unspoken. Then, to Glinda’s surprise, Elphaba reached out hesitantly, their fingers grazing Glinda’s wrist. It was barely a touch, light as air, but it sent a shiver through Glinda’s entire body.
She swallowed hard. “Lie down,” she murmured, suddenly feeling breathless.
Elphaba blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You need to rest.”
Elphaba hesitated but eventually relented, lying back against the pillows. They looked exhausted, their body sinking into the mattress as if they hadn’t felt a moment of peace in years.
Glinda sat beside them, her fingers absently toying with the hem of the blanket. The air between them was quiet, but not uncomfortable.
She watched as Elphaba’s breathing slowly evened out, their body no longer as tense, their expression no longer quite so haunted. They weren’t okay, not yet. But she knew, with time, they would be. And she knew now, with absolute certainty, that she loved them.
And this time, she wouldn’t run from it.
Glinda awoke to the sound of slow, unsteady breathing.
For a moment, she didn’t remember where she was. The room was dim, the only light coming from the moon spilling in through the window, casting a silvery glow over everything. She blinked sleep from her eyes, shifting slightly—only to realize that Elphaba was still beside her.
They had fallen asleep.
Glinda stilled, barely daring to breathe. She turned her head slightly, taking in the sight of them. Their face was relaxed in sleep, peaceful in a way Glinda so rarely saw. Their usual tension had melted away, leaving behind something softer, more vulnerable.
Her heart squeezed.
Elphaba always carried so much—too much. They never let themselves rest, never let themselves be taken care of. But here they were, lying beside Glinda, their breathing slow and even, their fingers lightly curled against the fabric of the blanket.
Glinda wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, just watching them, memorizing every tiny detail. The way their dark lashes rested against their cheeks. The way their lips parted slightly with each breath. The way the moonlight painted silver streaks across their skin.
They were beautiful.
Glinda had spent so long convincing herself that what she felt wasn’t love. She had reasoned it away, disguised it as admiration, as devotion, as something that could be contained within the limits of friendship. But love wasn’t something that could be reasoned away.
And now, as she lay here in the quiet of the night, she knew she had no choice but to accept it.
She was in love with Elphaba.
She always had been.