Weeks went by, and the more time Elphaba spent with Yero, that annoyingly stubborn boy who would wait for her in the clearing at least every other night, the harder it was for her to get him out of her head. She would catch herself smiling at the most mundane objects just because they reminded her of something he had told her about himself. As she cooked and cleaned and scrubbed the floors, she liked to play a little game, listing the things she already knew about him. He was an only child. His jokes were not funny, but she laughed anyway, just because his laugh was so contagious. He felt trapped in the life that had been planned for him. He was almost a head taller than her. He was an excellent shot, but rarely utilized the skill. He enjoyed reading, but only adventure books that allowed him to escape reality. He had never felt understood before he met her. He was allergic to strawberries. He loved to dance. He had a deep, pleasant voice. He often pretended to be carefree to hide his sadness. He wholeheartedly believed in love.

At times, instead of a smile, remembering their talks in the forest would cause a deep malachite blush to appear on Elphaba's cheeks. One memory in particular made her heart race like a crazed bird stuck in her ribcage; the memory of when she explained to him why she kept visiting the clearing. She spared him the exact details of her mother's story, but she confided in him about her feelings of grief and guilt and shame, told him how lonely she had felt all her life, how she did not think she deserved love and how much she resented herself for craving it anyway. By the time she was done talking, tears were streaming down her face. She had come too far that time, she thought. She was convinced he would leave her and never come back. Instead, as she tried to wipe her tears away with her gloved hands, she felt Yero put his arm around her. This affectionate gesture shocked and terrified her, to the point where she instinctively jumped away from him, as if his touch burned her skin. Yero seemed equally startled by her reaction. They both started apologizing profusely, talking over each other, until their hasty words gave way to uncomfortable silence. But as Elphaba looked at the young man in front of her, sitting in the woods at night, blindfolded, trusting her completely – she realized she wanted nothing more than to feel his arm around her. She hesitantly made her way back to his side, coming closer to him than she had ever dared before, and – having mustered all of her courage – leaning her head against his shoulder. She felt him breathe in deeply as the top of her head touched his cheek; then, very slowly, his arm slid around her shoulders once again.

Something changed between them after that night. They never discussed it, nor did it ever happen again. They still talked, shared personal stories, sometimes even laughed, just like they had before – but Elphaba could feel that the air between them was somehow different now. Now, her stomach was in knots every night as she left to meet him. Her head was spinning. She felt like she was falling, but for some strange reason, it was not a bad feeling.

What was bad, however, was finally reaching the ground. Because one night, she did not find Yero in the clearing. Not especially concerned, she thought she would see him the next night – but he was still nowhere to be found. She waited. Three nights. Four. Six. Nine. Fourteen. He was not there, and she had to wonder if she had ever even really met him at all.