Haven't done this in a while, Elphaba thought, rubbing the itchiness from her eyes. How late was it? There wasn't a clock nearby, but she knew midnight had come and gone well over an hour ago.

Last semester when she escaped to the library, she always felt like she was going home. Now, though, she felt like she was running from it.

The silence in their room was overwhelming—a fact that shocked the green girl. She longed to talk to Glinda, but she was too afraid of making things worse. So, she buried herself in the library, usually taking Dillamond's research with her.

She was close. So close. Avoiding Glinda had given her more free time, and she and Boq had become masters at stealing samples from the labs, sometimes even staying to run tests with the equipment. All of Dillamond's theories had been proven correct so far. As far as nonliving brains went, all the parts were identical. There was just one problem.

We have proven the equality of brains that no longer work, Dillamond had said in his last letter. This is marvelous, of course, but it isn't enough to prove equal sentience. I don't know exactly how we would do this. It goes beyond any work I've ever heard of. I only know that we would have to…

It was complicated, not to mention overwhelming. Elphaba constantly felt as if she was running to keep up with all the information she needed. But the beginnings of a solution had been nagging at the back of her mind, and something told her it just might work. But she would need time to figure it out. She would need a couple more books from the restricted section of the boys' library. She would need Boq's help. She would need to discuss it with Dillamond, and doing so over letter seemed impossible. But what was most daunting, what was really stopping her from moving forward, was this:

She would need to break into Morrible's office.

Glinda never imagined they would be this bad again.

At the beginning of the year, she and Elphaba didn't look at each other. They didn't stand anywhere near each other. They didn't talk, unless it was something hateful. They avoided everything about each other. If they weren't hurting one another, they were nowhere near each other.

It was like the world's worst wave of déjà vu. Now, she and Elphaba didn't look at each other. They didn't stand anywhere near each other. They didn't talk, unless it was to get something they needed. Miss Glinda, can you hand me my oils? Miss Elphaba, may I borrow a pencil? It wasn't hateful, it was formal. Stiff, but Glinda was never stiff. Polite, but Elphaba was never polite.

No, they weren't as bad as they had been. They were worse.

They had made an unspoken agreement to act as if nothing was wrong. They sat at the same tables in class and laughed at the same jokes with their friends. It was only in the privacy of their room that the silence would fall, too intimidating for either girl to try to break it.

The room was silent now, but for an entirely different reason. Elphaba was out late, again, and Glinda moved about restlessly in her bed.

She knew the green girl was just at the library, buried in her books and journals. But still she worried—how could she not? Morrible was as creepy as ever, and it was obvious that Dillamond's research was reaching a critical point.

Glinda did this every night, tossing and turning and thinking about all the things that Morrible could do to Elphaba if she ever caught her. When her roommate returned, she would lie still and fake sleep. But until then, she lay awake and silently begged for Elphaba to return to the room safely.

Oddly enough, it soon became her favorite moment of the day. When she heard the key in the lock, Glinda would settle under the covers and close her eyes. Elphaba crept into the room as quietly as possible, usually shivering from cold or exhaustion. Glinda would watch as Elphaba set her bag down as gently as possible and untied the scarf Ama Clutch had made from her neck. Sometimes she would hold the fabric in her hands for an extra moment, and sometimes she would glance at Glinda's bed, her face reflecting something similar to what Glinda felt.

Elphaba would get ready for bed and it would be quiet, but not silent. She would move carefully so as to not wake Glinda, and Glinda would fight to keep her face straight. It was a small consideration, but it was the only affection that passed between them these days.

And when the green girl finally climbed into bed, she would always curl up facing Glinda. Sometimes, the blonde kept her eyes open. Elphaba was never surprised. She simply stared back, and a thousand words would pass between them, though neither girl really understood any of it. They weren't angry or pretending or even making up. They just were, in a way they somehow couldn't manage during the daytime.

But other times, Glinda would keep her eyes closed and focus on breathing deeply. And just before she fell asleep for real, Elphaba's whisper would reach out to her, holding nothing back.

"Good night, my sweet."

By the time Fiyero and Boq dragged the girls out to lunch one day, they were both exhausted. They didn't even have the energy to pretend anymore. They just let their chilly silence settle over the table, not paying any attention to the boys who fidgeted in their seats next to them.

"This is ridiculous," Fiyero said finally.

"Just leave it," Glinda sighed.

"But you two are acting absurd!" Boq protested.

"Maybe, but that's between us," Elphaba muttered. "Leave it alone."

"Well, you agree on something," Fiyero joked weakly.

"Shut up," they said together. Elphaba raised an eyebrow. Glinda just looked shocked. For a moment, they held each other's gaze.

To everyone's surprise, it was Elphaba who made the confession. "I miss you," she whispered.

"Why? I thought you didn't care." Glinda's voice was bitter, and Elphaba was suddenly too afraid to respond. She tore her eyes from the blonde's and said the words in her head: I do care. I care too much.

The silence was broken by a tiny sniff from the corner of the table, and then Glinda was gone, rushing out of the café without a backwards glance.

Elphaba pressed her lips together and stared at her bowl. Boq and Fiyero exchanged a glance. Fiyero rose to his feet, grabbing the purse Glinda had left behind, and followed her out the door. When he was gone, the Munchkin turned to Elphaba. He didn't look angry, or sad, or even exasperated. In fact, he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" she demanded. "What's so funny?"

"You," Boq said, rolling his eyes. "You're such an idiot."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are." He gestured toward Fiyero and Glinda's empty chairs. "What's going on, Elphaba?"

Elphaba opened her mouth, then quickly shut it and pursed her lips. Boq chuckled. "Exactly. You don't even know."

"And I suppose you do?"

"Of course I do. You're jealous."

It was the first time anyone had said it out loud. "There's nothing to be jealous of," she mumbled.

"No, there's not. But you still are, because that's what people do when they have feelings for each other."

Elphaba jerked, her eyes opening wide. "I don't—who said—I don't have feelings for—"

Boq's eyes softened and he put a hand on her arm, calming her. "Look, Elphaba. I don't know exactly what your relationship with Glinda is. I don't know how to describe it or what to call it. But I don't think that matters. There are so many different types of love, and I don't think they all need a label."

Love? Elphaba shook her head, feeling the back of her neck heat up. "I don't…"

"Are you sure?" Boq asked. "Just think about it."

"Love is for the weak," Elphaba grumbled.

Boq raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to disagree with you on that, Elphie. In fact, I think love definitely takes strength. It's easier to shut yourself away, behind the walls you're used to. But letting someone in?" He shook his head and stood up, grabbing his bag. "And even if you are right, and love is for the weak…well, everyone has their weaknesses. And not even you can deny that yours is Miss Glinda Upland of Frottica."

Elphaba looked down. "Don't you get it? That's what I'm most afraid of." She tensed as the words came out, but Boq was nothing but gentle as he turned back around to face her.

"What do you mean?"

She glared at her lap as she spoke. "Glinda is…my weakness, as you said it. I know that. She was the first person to ever try to be my friend. She's the only person I let hug me, or play with my hair, or hold my hand. Around her I start to lose control of my thoughts and my emotions—even just talking about her now, I'm telling you things I would never normally say to anyone. And it terrifies me. But even that doesn't compare to how upset I get when I think that, one day, she could stop caring about me." She stopped and bit her lip, digging her fingers into her knees.

"Elphie, look at me." Boq sat back down and waited for Elphaba to meet his eyes. "Remember last semester, when I was a—what did you always tell me—a lovesick Munchkin? I would practically worship Glinda, even when other boys had a better chance. Even when she was with Fiyero and she didn't look twice at me. I knew it was hopeless, but I kept chasing after her anyway. But then we all became friends, and I eventually stopped. Do you know why?"

The green girl shook her head.

"Because I saw the way she was with you—the way she looked at you, the way she acted when you were around—and I knew that was where she belonged, where she was happy. And you were, too. I finally stopped mooning over Glinda because it was obvious: you two were made, perfectly, for each other."

Boq wasn't sure if the noise that came from Elphaba was a laugh or a cry, but her eyes were wide when she took a shaky breath and asked, "Even back then?"

The Munchkin smiled. "Probably always. Even when you were torturing each other, the two of you were obsessed."

"And I ruined everything," Elphaba muttered, looking down again.

"That's not true," Boq said, firmly. "But you need to fix this before it is."

"How?"

Boq blinked. Never before had Elphaba asked him for advice. In fact, he had a strong suspicion that she'd never asked anyone. He reached forward and put a hand on Elphaba's shoulder. "Simple. You ignore whatever insecurities you have and realize that Glinda cares about you just as much as you care about her."

"You call that simple?"

"Simple doesn't mean easy," Boq shrugged.

"Fine," Elphaba said. "Say I somehow manage that. Then what?"

"Then? Then you talk to her."