The room froze. She was crying so hard, and she never cried. It hurt so much, the wet tears burning their way down her face. They stung and would scar. For so long she had taught herself not to cry. She never allowed herself to cry. Not only did the tears burn, but they were a sign of weakness. Her father had taught her that. Never let anyone see you cry. Then they know they have a power over you, to cause you pain. In hindsight, she realized her father had probably only taught her not to cry because he had no idea how to comfort his oldest daughter, and tears horrified him.
She was shaking. This had been building up for a long time. Probably all twenty-three years of her miserable life. She couldn't remember crying. Nothing more than a single tear, anyway. She was embaressed at being so weak in front of this doubtlessly horrified, beautiful man. Part of her wished he would just go. But she knew he wouldn't. He was just the kind of sweet, sensitive, idiotic man who would not leave her to cry herself out alone.
All the same, she was shocked when he said her name softly, "Elphie, Elphaba," reaching for her. She took a step backward, realizing her back was against the wall. He closed the gap between them, standing right in front of her. The muted red blanket she had been using to dry her face hung between them, brushing the floor.
He brushed the tears from her face. She was sure time had stopped. She wasn't breathing but her heart pounded in her ears. Her stomach dropped to the floor. His hand rested on her cheek. She let the blanket drop. As if it had a mind of it's own, her own hand went up to rest on top of his. Her eyes fluttered shut. She could hear his voice, feel his breath on her cheek, "Please don't be upset."
Time started again. The room was spinning now, everything happening faster and faster. Before she knew it her thin arms were wrapped around him, turning them, pushing him against the wall. He was clearly surprised, but willing. His hands rested against her waist, pulling her closer, as if that were even possible. Their lips pressed together, urgently. She felt his hands on her back. He broke the kiss. Her eyes opened. She realized he was asking her permission. How ridiculous that was! As if she didn't want him. As if she didn't need him.
She felt his hands undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. After that she couldn't remember much...
Some indeterminable amount of time later, they curled together on her too small bed. Tired, spent, content. Her head rested against his chest and they seemed to be a perfect fit for one another. Like each of them had been made with the other in mind. She was sure it had been that way, each made for the other.
He'd fallen asleep, his arms still protective around her middle. She could feel his chest rise and fall, slowly, steadily. She looked up to press a kiss against his cheek.
Maybe she didn't always have to hide her emotions... At least not from him.