Shiz University had fallen into an unusual quiet, the kind that only appeared when winter break emptied the halls. Snow blanketed the campus, casting a soft glow under the pale winter sun, and the air carried the crisp chill of December. Most students had already left, their dormitories silent, but not Room 22 in Crage Hall.
Galinda stood in the middle of their shared space, hands on her hips, surveying her work. What had once been a relatively sparse and studious room—thanks to Elphaba's insistence on "practicality"—was now a whimsical Christmas haven. Tiny twinkling lights crisscrossed the walls, casting a warm golden glow over the room. A miniature evergreen sat proudly on Galinda's desk, adorned with delicate silver and gold ornaments she'd smuggled in from home. Garlands of pine and holly lined the windowsills, and in the corner stood a stack of neatly wrapped presents, all tied with ribbons and bows.
She stepped back, clutching a final strand of tinsel. "Perfect!" she declared, though there was no one to hear her triumphant announcement.
Galinda had originally intended to leave for home two days ago, but the idea of Christmas without her family had somehow become more bearable than the thought of leaving Elphaba alone at Shiz. She had caught sight of her roommate the evening before break, curled up in the common room with her usual stack of books, and the realization had hit her like a snowball to the face: Elphaba wasn't going home.
The stubborn green girl hadn't said anything directly, of course. She never did. But Galinda knew her too well by now. Elphaba had no plans to leave because there was nowhere to go, and the thought broke something in Galinda's heart.
So here she was, spending her holiday with the very person who had once been her rival, now her closest friend—and, perhaps, something more.
The doorknob rattled, jolting her from her thoughts. Quickly, she tossed the tinsel onto the tree and tried to look casual.
The door creaked open, and Elphaba stepped inside, brushing snow from her coat. Her green skin stood out even more against the winter chill, her dark eyes flicking toward Galinda before landing on the transformed room. She froze mid-step, one hand still on the door.
"What... is this?"
"Surprise!" Galinda chirped, clasping her hands together. "Merry Christmas, Elphie!"
Elphaba blinked, her gaze moving from the tree to the lights to the pile of gifts. Her brow furrowed. "You did all this?"
"Well, of course I did. Someone had to bring some holiday cheer to this dreary place," Galinda said, stepping forward. "Do you like it?"
"I—" Elphaba paused, glancing around again. Her face softened, though her expression remained guarded. "It's... a lot."
Galinda beamed. "I'll take that as a yes!"
Elphaba set her books down on the desk and unwound her scarf, her gaze lingering on Galinda. "I thought you were leaving yesterday."
"I changed my mind," Galinda said breezily, though the real reason made her cheeks warm.
Elphaba stared at the garland-draped walls, her fingers fidgeting slightly with her rings. "You stayed," she said softly, as if still trying to process the idea.
Galinda tilted her head, her smile warm. "Well, yes. I couldn't very well let you spend Christmas alone, could I?"
Elphaba's gaze flickered back to her, searching for something. "But... why?"
Galinda hesitated, her heart thudding faster. She could deflect, brush it off with a teasing remark, but the sincerity in Elphaba's question held her in place. "Because I care about you, Elphie," she said, her voice quieter now. "And because you deserve to have someone here during the holidays."
Elphaba's lips parted, her expression caught between surprise and something deeper. For a moment, neither of them spoke. She stared at the blonde, the words clearly sinking in. Her brow furrowed slightly, and when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than usual. "You didn't have to do that."
"Of course I didn't have to," Galinda said, stepping closer. Her voice softened. "I wanted to."
For a moment, Elphaba simply looked at her, as if trying to understand. Then she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Thank you," she murmured, the words tinged with genuine surprise.
Galinda smiled, her heart lifting. "You're welcome, Elphie."
"Though," Elphaba continued, "it's a little overwhelming." She gestured vaguely to the tree and the lights, her tone wry but softened by something like gratitude.
Galinda let out a light laugh, relieved. "You'll get used to it. Besides, it's Christmas! Everything's supposed to be a little overwhelming."
Elphaba glanced at the miniature tree, her brow furrowing in thought. "I've never really celebrated Christmas," she admitted quietly.
Galinda's heart squeezed. "Never?"
Elphaba shook her head. "It wasn't... something we did at home." She shrugged, but Galinda could sense the weight behind the words.
"Well, that's all the more reason to make this year special," Galinda declared, taking Elphaba's hand before she could retreat back into herself. "I'll make sure you have the best Christmas ever."
Elphaba looked at their joined hands, her expression softening again. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Galinda said firmly, squeezing her hand before letting go. "Now, you sit down and relax while I finish preparing everything."
"Prepare what, exactly?" Elphaba asked, arching an eyebrow.
Galinda grinned. "That, my dear Elphie, is a surprise."
Elphaba gave her a skeptical look but didn't press further. Instead, she lingered near the table, her fingers brushing the edge as though contemplating whether to retreat back to her books.
"Here," Galinda said gently, holding out a mug of cocoa. "If you're going to sulk, you might as well do it properly—with a little holiday cheer."
Elphaba hesitated, eyeing the mug as if it might be a trap. But when Galinda didn't budge, she finally took it with a soft huff. "I'm not sulking," she muttered, though her lips twitched like she was suppressing a smile.
"Of course not," Galinda said with mock solemnity, stepping aside to give Elphaba space.
Elphaba let out a long sigh but moved toward the loveseat near the window, settling down with her cocoa. She tucked her legs beneath her and cradled the mug, her dark eyes flicking between Galinda and the room's festive decor.
Galinda, meanwhile, flitted about with an energy that seemed to brighten the already glowing space. She carefully rearranged the stack of presents, adjusted a garland that had gone slightly askew, and hummed a cheerful tune under her breath.
Elphaba finally broke the silence. "You do realize I'm terrible with surprises, right?"
"That's precisely why I'm doing this," Galinda said, turning to face her with a cheeky grin. "It's good for you to experience a little... mystery."
"I'd argue that I experience quite enough mystery on a daily basis, given the number of questionable decisions people make around here." Elphaba took another sip of her cocoa, her tone dry.
Galinda rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush. You'll love this one, I promise."
Elphaba arched an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but she didn't argue further.
Galinda disappeared briefly into the small closet they shared and returned with a neatly wrapped box. She carried it carefully, as if it contained something fragile, and placed it on the table in front of Elphaba.
"What's this?" Elphaba asked, leaning forward to inspect the gift.
"An early Christmas present," Galinda said, practically bouncing with excitement. "Go on, open it!"
Elphaba hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the red-and-gold wrapping paper. "I thought we were waiting until tomorrow for gifts."
"Well, we are," Galinda said, biting her lip. "But... this one felt special. And besides, it's your first real Christmas, so we're making our own rules."
Elphaba gave her a long look, as if trying to decipher her motives. Then, with an exasperated sigh, she carefully peeled back the paper.
Inside was a soft, emerald-green scarf, hand-knitted with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light. Elphaba froze, her fingers tracing the delicate stitches.
"I made it myself," Galinda said, her voice quieter now. "It's not perfect, but I thought... well, I thought it might suit you."
Elphaba looked up, her expression unguarded for once. "You made this?"
Galinda nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious under Elphaba's gaze. "I wanted to give you something personal. Something that felt... meaningful."
Elphaba didn't say anything for a long moment, her fingers still trailing over the scarf. Finally, she looked back at Galinda, her voice softer than Galinda had ever heard it. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
Galinda's heart swelled, her cheeks flushing with warmth. "You're welcome, Elphie. I'm glad you like it."
Before Elphaba could respond, Galinda leaned forward and gently picked up the scarf. "Here, let me." She stepped closer, carefully wrapping it around Elphaba's neck. Her fingers brushed against Elphaba's skin as she adjusted the scarf, and for a fleeting moment, Galinda's breath hitched at the closeness.
"There," she said softly, stepping back to admire her work. The deep green shade perfectly complemented Elphaba's skin, and Galinda couldn't help but smile at how fitting it looked.
Elphaba glanced down at the scarf, her fingers brushing the soft fabric. A faint smile tugged at her lips. "I'll wear it every day," she said, her tone teasing but with an undercurrent of sincerity.
Galinda beamed, her earlier nervousness melting away. "You'd better. Otherwise, I'll have to start knitting you hats and gloves too, just to complete the set."
Elphaba chuckled, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"And you love me for it," Galinda teased, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.
Elphaba stilled, her eyes meeting Galinda's. For a moment, the air between them seemed to shift, the teasing warmth giving way to something deeper.
Galinda's breath caught, but she quickly recovered, forcing a laugh. "I mean, as a friend, obviously."
Elphaba's gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer before she nodded, a faint smile still playing at her lips. "Obviously."
Elphaba lingered, her fingers tracing the edge of the scarf. The room was quiet except for the occasional crackle of the fire Galinda had lit. The festive lights cast a warm glow over Elphaba's features, softening the sharpness of her profile.
Galinda couldn't take her eyes off her. There was something about the way Elphaba held herself, like she was constantly bracing for impact, even in moments as tender as this. It made Galinda ache in a way she couldn't quite name.
"It really suits you," Galinda said softly, breaking the silence.
Elphaba glanced up, her dark eyes meeting Galinda's. For a moment, she looked as though she wanted to say something but then thought better of it. Instead, she nodded, her fingers brushing the scarf again. "It's warmer than I expected. You're... surprisingly good at this sort of thing."
"Surprisingly?" Galinda feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over her heart. "Elphie, I'll have you know that I am excellent at many things. Knitting included."
Elphaba's lips twitched into a faint smile, and Galinda felt her chest swell at the sight. "Well, I suppose I'll take your word for it," Elphaba said, her tone dry but softened by amusement.
Galinda stepped closer, perching on the arm of the loveseat. "You could just admit that you're impressed," she teased.
Elphaba tilted her head, considering. "I'll admit... it's nice. Nicer than I would have expected."
Galinda's heart did a little flip at the quiet honesty in her voice. She leaned forward slightly, her tone gentler now. "You're allowed to enjoy nice things, you know."
Elphaba glanced away, her expression tightening slightly. "Nice things and I don't exactly have a history of getting along."
The words were meant to sound flippant, but Galinda could hear the weight behind them. She hesitated, searching for the right response. "Maybe you just haven't been given enough of them."
Elphaba looked back at her, her gaze sharp yet searching. "And you think you can fix that?"
Galinda's breath caught. The question wasn't mocking—it was vulnerable, almost cautious. She smiled, her voice softening further. "I think I can try."
For a moment, Elphaba didn't respond. She just looked at Galinda, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable but charged with something unspoken.
Galinda felt as if the rest of the world had fallen away. The soft glow of the twinkling lights, the gentle vanilla scent of the candle, and the snow-draped quiet beyond the window—all of it faded, leaving only the two of them.
Elphaba's lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak, but then she closed them again, her brows furrowing. She looked down at her hands, still clutching the mug of cocoa, her fingers fidgeting with the rim. Galinda resisted the urge to reach out and still them.
"Galinda," Elphaba said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you really here? You could be anywhere else—home, with your family. But you're not. You're here... with me."
Galinda opened her mouth to answer, but the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. She had prepared so many excuses—something lighthearted, easy to dismiss—but under Elphaba's gaze, all of them felt inadequate. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Because..." she began, her voice trembling slightly. "Because I couldn't bear the thought of you being alone. And because..." She hesitated, her cheeks flushing. "Because you're important to me, Elphie. More than you probably realize."
Elphaba's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Galinda, I—"
"I know," Galinda interrupted, her words rushing out as if she might lose the courage to say them. "I know I can be a little much sometimes, and I know we started off on the wrong foot, but... I see you, Elphaba. I see how brilliant and kind and strong you are. And I don't want you to think that you have to face everything alone, because you don't. Not anymore."
Elphaba stared at her, her dark eyes shimmering with an emotion Galinda couldn't quite place. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, she set her cocoa aside and stood abruptly, pacing to the window. The scarf Galinda had given her trailed slightly as she moved, the soft green fabric catching the light.
Galinda's heart sank. Had she said too much? Pushed too far? She started to rise, ready to apologize, but Elphaba turned back to her, and the look in her eyes stopped Galinda in her tracks.
"You don't know what you're saying," Elphaba said quietly, her voice laced with something between fear and disbelief. "You don't know what it's like to... to be tied to someone like me. People don't stay, Galinda. They don't—"
"I do," Galinda cut in firmly, standing now. She crossed the room to Elphaba, her pulse racing but her resolve steady. "I stay. And I'm not going anywhere, Elphaba Thropp. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."
Elphaba blinked, clearly startled by the fierceness in Galinda's tone. For a moment, she just looked at her, her mouth slightly open, as if searching for the right words.
"Why?" she asked finally, the single word carrying a weight that made Galinda's chest ache.
Galinda hesitated for only a moment before reaching out, her fingers brushing Elphaba's. "Because I care about you," she said softly, her voice trembling with honesty. "And maybe... maybe because I think I might love you."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and fragile all at once. Elphaba's eyes widened, her breath hitching audibly. For a long moment, she said nothing, her gaze flickering between Galinda's face and their joined hands.
"You... love me?" Elphaba whispered, as if the idea were something too delicate to hold.
Galinda nodded, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. "Yes, Elphie. I love you."
Elphaba stared at her, her expression unreadable, and Galinda's heart began to sink. But then, slowly, Elphaba raised her free hand and cupped Galinda's cheek, her touch achingly gentle.
"I don't deserve you," Elphaba murmured, her voice raw.
Galinda's eyes stung with unshed tears, and she shook her head, covering Elphaba's hand with her own. "That's not for you to decide," she whispered. "You deserve to be loved, Elphie. And I want to be the one who loves you."
Elphaba's lips parted, and for a moment, Galinda thought she might pull away. But then, Elphaba leaned down, closing the distance between them, and pressed her lips softly to Galinda's.
The kiss was tentative at first, as if Elphaba were afraid to break the moment. But when Galinda responded, her hand sliding up to tangle in Elphaba's hair, the hesitation melted away, replaced by a warmth that seemed to fill every corner of the room.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Galinda let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Merry Christmas, Elphie," she whispered.
Elphaba smiled—a real, unguarded smile that made Galinda's heart soar. "Merry Christmas, Galinda."