Morning came early and insistent, sunlight streaming through the windowpane. Neither spoke of the window until later—Galinda hadn't even meant to bring it up, it had just slipped out of her mouth carelessly, like most things she said.

"You closed the window."

Elphaba startled, looking up from the book she was reading. "I did not."

"It was closed when I came in last night, and you're usually so adamant about leaving it open," Galinda said. "I thought..."

A blush crawled up the green girl's face, if you could call it a blush-she turned a darker green, not unlike the moss of the forest floor. It was almost, Galinda thought with a shock, pretty.

"What of it?" Elphaba said defensively, and turned back to her book. Galinda heard the rustling of pages, then, after a minute—"Did you have a nice evening out?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." Galinda said, then realized how she sounded. "You could have come, you know," she added in a softer tone.

Elphaba made a sound that was something between a laugh and a snort. "I don't think your friends like me very much."

"Well it's not like you make much of an effort to be likable, Miss Elphaba."

This time Elphaba did laugh. "What, because I'm green? Doesn't give your friends the right to be cruel—and they are cruel, Miss Galinda. I have heard them."

"They're just…" Galinda started, but the words faltered and died on her tongue. Even she couldn't defend Pfannee and Shenshen. She knew they were vapid, cruel girls, but she'd been raised to care what others thought, care what her social status was. Sometimes she wished she were more like Elphaba, wished she could display that sort of brazen disregard for what others thought.

Then again, Elphaba probably did care, she was just much better at hiding it.

"I don't tolerate them because they openly dislike me. I don't see how you stand them," Elphaba said. "Then again, you seem to not care for me one way or the other, so I suppose they'd bother you less."

"I do care for you!" Galinda said, and then gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Both girls looked startled.

The room was quiet for a solid minute. If Galinda stilled herself, she could almost hear her roommate breathing.

"Please don't tease me, Miss Galinda," Elphaba said flatly, breaking the silence.

Galinda blinked. That wasn't what she'd been expecting. "Why would I tease about that?" she asked, indignant.

"Because you see me as a joke! As an artichoke, a green bean, as something less than human because that is what I am. You could not—cannot—possibly care for me except to run back and tell your friends what a fool you made of me!"

Elphaba was shrieking, standing, it was the first time Galinda had ever seen her truly upset. The air around her seemed to vibrate; Galinda could feel her hair on edge. Her hands were clenched into emerald fists, brown eyes sparking like embers.

"Elphaba—Elphaba, stop!" Galinda yelled, and the charge in the air dissipated as quickly as it had come. Elphaba's fists were still tight, her chest heaving. She collapsed on her bed, burying her face in her hands.

Galinda couldn't tell if she was crying or not. But then through long, green fingers Elphaba looked up at her, brown eyes pinning Galinda where she stood.

"You called me Elphaba," she said.

"Well, yes. That's your name, isn't it?" Galinda said, her own face growing hot. She'd known, probably, what she was doing when she dropped the honorific but goodness' sake, she hadn't been thinking about it, she'd just wanted Elphaba to stop whatever magic she was doing.

"It's not something I'm usually addressed by—my name," Elphaba said. "So perhaps... perhaps you do care for me."

"Of course I do," Galinda said. "I... I may not readily admit it to anyone else, of course, but I do care for you."

"Well," Elphaba sighed. "At least that's a start."

Elphaba.

The word rang strange in her own ears.

She thought it was the wind.

(It may have been the wind.)

What a thing—to be called her own name, to be seen as a person. She had not heard her name used in years. It was always hidden, buried beneath green bean artichoke that thing, that monstrous thing what ever is wrong with it what ever is wrong with you, Fabala-

She stopped walking, hands clutching the folds of her black skirts, choking back sudden tears because there was a name she never, ever wanted to hear again.

Elphaba.

She whispered the word again. It didn't sound real; but when she said it, when Galinda said it—it sounded like something more than Elphaba could ever dream of wanting.

The soap bubbles had turned to tar again.

She'd known they would. She'd known they would since the green girl's name escaped her lips.

Elphaba.

She liked the sound of it. She liked saying it, and she imagined ways she'd say it in other situations, ways that maybe involved fewer clothing, and those thoughts stuck inside her brain and wouldn't let go.

But she wasn't supposed to have those thoughts. She wasn't supposed to be thinking these things. She was Galinda of the Upper Uplands, dammit, and girls from the Upper Uplands did not think about kissing girls. Especially not their green roommate.

Oh, the Unnamed God would curse her for thinking such things.

But she thought them anyway.

Elphaba finally entered their dorm hours later. Galinda was sitting on her bed, reading—to Elphaba's surprise—a book. One of Elphaba's books.

"What're you doing?" Elphaba asked, and Galinda slammed the book shut.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"I don't understand why you're reading that," Elphaba said, and Galinda's cheeks flushed. She knew Elphaba wasn't saying it to be cruel, but it stung all the same.

"I'm trying to understand you," she said finally, huffily.

Elphaba barked a laugh. "Why in Oz's name would you ever try to understand me?"

But a spark ran through her chest, one of those wicked thoughts flitted across her brain.

No. She couldn't think that, it was evil and wicked and there was no way in Oz Galinda would ever feel that way about her.

"Because we're friends, Elphie," Galinda said.

Elphaba quirked an eyebrow. "Elphie?"

Galinda shrugged. "Yeah. Like a nickname. I think it's cute."

"Might be a bit too cheery for me," Elphaba said, but she felt a secret thrill at it.

Her name. Now a nickname. Much better than Fabala,. Elphie almost made her sound like a normal girl, a girl who might have had friends. Part of her thought it was all a trick, a lie, that any minute Galinda was going to run away and leave and laugh at her.

But what an effort this would be for a prank. Reading those awful Unionist books, a nickname—Galinda didn't have it in her to be that cruel.

"Elphie," she whispered to herself, and felt her face grow hot, her palms begin to sweat. She turned and looked at Galinda, whose face was now a bright pink, and her heart thudded louder in her chest.

What was she thinking? What was going on in her brain, thoughts hidden under the porcelain veneer of makeup and carelessness?

"Do you, um... would you maybe... want to go to that party this week?" Galinda asked, almost shyly.

Elphaba blinked. "Party?"

"Mmhm. Shenshen and Pfannee invited me. At the old Erstwhile Club, near the city."

Elphaba's heart sunk at the mention of Galinda's friends. "I'm not one for parties, Miss Galinda. You know that."

"Oh please stop calling me that," Galinda snapped, then softened. "We're friends now. Galinda is fine. And I—I want you to come, I think you'd have fun."

Something about Galinda's tone told Elphaba she couldn't argue. And to be near Galinda, for a whole night, maybe to go out and drink and have fun for once in her life, and if it was dark enough in the club and they were close enough to the city no one would gawk at her—

"Maybe," she said, and Galinda clapped her hands in delight.

But the sinking feeling in Elphaba's stomach only grew more.