my sweet! (in every which way)

The hallways of Shiz University hummed with the usual energy—students rushing to classes, the buzz of excitement and nervous energy filling the air. But across the hall from each other, Elphaba Thropp and [name] could feel a different kind of charge between them. They were friends, or at least they used to be, but lately, something had changed. What started as innocent fun had turned into a constant battle. Every moment felt like a competition, a challenge to see who could be better, smarter, faster, or more accomplished. And neither of them knew how to stop it.

Elphaba had never been one for competition. She was used to being the outcast, the one who had to work harder just to be seen. But when it came to [name], things were different. It wasn’t that [name] was better than her—far from it—but there was always this invisible line between them, a need to prove who could outdo the other.

The rivalry had started small. A friendly quip about who would get the best grade on the last exam, or who could cast a spell more effectively. But over time, those little moments had built up, becoming something bigger, something more intense. Every time [name] succeeded at something, Elphaba couldn’t help but feel the urge to top it, to prove that she could do it just as well—or better.

And, despite herself, Elphaba felt like she was losing.

---

It was another evening in Shiz’s dormitory, and Elphaba was hunched over her desk, scribbling away at her latest magical theory paper. She could hear the quiet sounds from across the hall—[name]’s door was open, the soft rustling of pages and the occasional hum of a song seeping through the space between them. Elphaba’s mind kept drifting, not to the paper in front of her, but to the feeling she had been trying to ignore for weeks. The feeling that the rivalry between her and [name] had gotten out of hand.

Her frustration wasn’t just about school. It wasn’t about the grades or the recognition. It was about how everything felt like a challenge now. Even their conversations had become laced with competition. Who had the better idea? Who could make the professors laugh first? Who had the better spell? It was exhausting.

And yet... she couldn’t stop herself from trying.

A soft knock at her door snapped her out of her thoughts. Elphaba barely looked up as she called, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and [name] appeared, leaning against the frame with a half-smile. She was dressed casually, her hair falling around her face in that effortless way that always made Elphaba feel... well, not quite enough.

“Hey,” [name] greeted, her voice warm but cautious. “Got a second?”

Elphaba’s heart skipped, and she swallowed hard before replying. “Sure. What’s up?”

[name] stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room before landing on Elphaba’s desk, where papers and notes were scattered in disarray. “You’ve been kind of quiet lately. You good?”

Elphaba sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m fine,” she said, not looking up. “Just a lot of work.”

But [name] didn’t buy it. “You sure?” she asked, taking a few steps closer. “You’re acting like... you’re avoiding me.”

Elphaba could feel her pulse quicken, and she hated the way it made her feel exposed. “I’m not avoiding you.”

[name] raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Okay, maybe not. But something’s off. You’ve been acting weird for weeks now. Like, I don’t know—more distant? Like you’re... trying to beat me at something.”

Elphaba stiffened, her throat tightening at the accusation, even though it was true. She had been trying. But it wasn’t about beating [name]. It was about keeping up. It was about not letting herself fall too far behind in whatever invisible race they were in.

“I’m not trying to beat you,” Elphaba muttered, though she knew it sounded weak even to her own ears.

[name] stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “Then why do you always act like we’re in a competition? Like you’re trying to one-up me every time we talk?”

Elphaba’s heart pounded harder, and she shot back without thinking, “I’m not! I’m just trying to do my best!”

[name] stared at her for a long moment, her eyes searching, as though trying to figure out what Elphaba was hiding. “Is that what this is really about?” she asked gently. “You think you have to compete with me to be seen?”

Elphaba was silent. The words caught in her throat, and she couldn’t bring herself to say what was really bothering her: that it wasn’t about winning. It was about not being left behind. Not being ignored. Not being the one who never quite measured up.

But somehow, [name] had always been there. Always successful, always getting the attention. And Elphaba? She was just... trying. Trying not to fall short.

“I don’t want to lose,” Elphaba finally whispered, the truth tumbling out before she could stop it.

[name] took a step closer, her gaze softening. “You’re not losing, Elphaba. You don’t have to win every time. You just have to be you.”

Elphaba’s throat tightened, her breath catching as she looked into [name]’s eyes. “But I can’t just be ‘me’ when every time I turn around, it feels like you’re ahead.”

[name] smiled gently. “I’m not ahead of you, Elphaba. I’m right here. And I don’t want to win—not with you.”

The words hit Elphaba like a shockwave. She had always thought that the rivalry was something that had to exist. It was what made them friends, right? But now, with the weight of everything they’d said hanging between them, Elphaba wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it wasn’t a race at all.

[name] was right there, her voice steady and calm, not challenging her, not trying to prove anything. Just... being with her.

Elphaba felt a weight lift from her chest, though it was replaced by a different kind of tension—a kind she hadn’t been ready for. “You... you don’t think I’m crazy for feeling like this?” Elphaba asked, her voice shaking slightly.

[name] shook her head, her smile soft and knowing. “Not at all. I think you’re just afraid that if you stop trying so hard, I’ll forget about you.”

Elphaba’s breath hitched. It was like [name] could read her mind. “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

“You won’t be,” [name] said, her voice tender. “You never will be. Not by me.”

There was a long, pregnant pause between them, and then Elphaba, unable to stop herself, moved closer. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against [name]’s arm, almost as if testing the waters.

[name] didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in, just enough to close the space between them. Their gazes locked, and in that moment, Elphaba felt something shift—something that wasn’t about competition, or rivalry, or proving anything. It was simply... them.

Before she could second-guess herself, Elphaba closed the gap, pressing her lips to [name]’s in a soft, hesitant kiss. It wasn’t fiery or rushed. It was slow, unsure, like a question—and when [name] kissed her back, it felt like the world paused, like everything that had been building between them finally clicked into place.

When they pulled apart, Elphaba found herself smiling, the tension in her chest finally dissolving. She didn’t have to prove anything. Not anymore.

“You’re not trying to win,” Elphaba whispered, her fingers still lingering on [name]’s arm. “And neither am I.”

[name] smiled back, her hand coming to rest on Elphaba’s cheek. “We’re not. We never were.”

And for the first time, Elphaba believed it. There was no race. No competition. There was just them, standing across the hall from each other, ready to stop fighting and start living. Together.