Work Text:
Galinda had built an entire little empire out of other people’s feelings. Which said something, considering she’d heard—from more than one source, and always delivered with that careful little bless-your-heart tilt—that she was not always the most observant when it came to other people’s feelings.
In her defense, feelings were slippery. Feelings were sneaky. Feelings shifted shape without warning and somehow made it your fault when you didn’t catch it fast enough.
But events? Romance-themed fundraisers? Coordinated campus-wide spectacles with color-coded spreadsheets and a team of volunteers in matching pink hoodies?
Those, Galinda understood.
Hence: SENT!, Shiz University’s unofficial-official Valentine’s Day send a message thing, brought to you by Galinda Upland, the Arts Council and a terrifying amount of glitter.
She loved it. She loved the rush of it—her little folding table set up in the student center, her clipboard, her pen, her perfectly curated basket of cards and envelopes. People lined up like it was a concert. They giggled and whispered and got flustered writing names that made their hands shake. Some of them were shameless. Some of them looked like they might throw up.
Some of them Galinda had to turn away because they were willing to pay triple to send a note to their ex that read Loser.
Galinda took their money with the practiced ease of a benevolent dictator and said, "Oh my stars, yes, absolutely, of course—anonymous, totally anonymous! Your secret is safe with me,” as if she did not already know half the campus’s crushes simply by being alive and popular in public.
By February 13th, her booth looked like Cupid had thrown up in the atrium.
There was a tri-fold board labeled SENT-A-MESSAGE! in bubble letters, an alarming bouquet of heart-shaped pens, and a little jar that said SUGGESTED DONATION: $1-3 (LOVE IS PRICELESS BUT STAMPS ARE NOT). She wore a pink sweater with tiny embroidered cherries and a headband that declared BE MINE.
Elphaba would have hated it on principle.
Because Elphaba hated Valentine’s Day the way some people hated mosquitoes: intensely, personally, and with the quiet conviction that the whole thing should be eradicated from the planet.
"You’re making a mockery of the postal system,” Elphaba had said that morning, staring at Galinda’s pile of heart confetti.
"I’m making a celebration of the postal system,” Galinda corrected, slipping another roll of tape into her tote. "It’s not my fault you’re anti-joy."
"I’m not anti-joy,” Elphaba said, voice flat. "I’m anti… performative affection marketed as mandatory.”
Galinda had paused in the doorway, feeling something catch inside her throat.
"You’re anti-… words,” she said, because what? "You’re anti-words with less than three syllables.”
Elphaba’s mouth had done that thing it did, where it looked like it wanted to smirk but refused out of spite. "Go spread your… glitter plague, Galinda.”
"I will!” Galinda chirped. "And I hope it gets in your hair.”
"Do you have one that says 'Sorry I bitched at you in Chem Lab’?” a guy asked, shoving his hands in his pockets like the mere act of emotion could kill him.
Galinda’s eyes widened. "Oh my god. Yes. Yes.” She handed him a heart-shaped card that said MY BAD! in glitter ink and watched him scuttle away with a pen to hopefully write something more eloquent.
"So," Pfannee said, drawing out the vowel as he leaned over the table, completely ignoring Galinda’s personal space. "How many did you send to her?”
Galinda didn’t look up from the envelopes. "Who?”
Pfannee made a face. "Please. The dark cloud you keep in your dorm.”
"Her name is Elphaba,” Galinda said, offended, and then—because she couldn’t help herself—added, "and she is not a cloud, she is a… a thunderstorm. A sophisticated, intelligent thunderstorm.”
"Mm-hmm.”
Galinda’s throat went tight, and she could feel her face trying to heat up against her will. She waved a hand. "Anyway! I’m running an event! For the community! For love!”
"And for Elphaba,” Pfannee sang.
Galinda glared. "Go away.”
Pfannee stayed. "How many?”
Galinda sighed, defeated by persistence and the fact that she was terrible at lying to people who’d known her longer than ten minutes.
"…Three.”
Pfannee’s eyes widened, delighted. "Three today?”
Galinda hissed, "No! Three total! One today. One yesterday. One the day before.”
"That’s… a lot,” Pfannee said.
"It’s not a lot,” Galinda said quickly. "It’s… normal. People send multiple messages. It’s a service.”
"Right,” Pfannee said, all innocence. "And you just… happen to be sending multiple anonymous love notes to your roommate who hates Valentine’s Day.”
Galinda’s hands stilled over the stack of envelopes.
She could picture them—her notes—because she’d written them with so much care her wrist had actually cramped.
She’d kept them short. Not too sweet. Not too obvious.
Yesterday’s had said: Your brain is terrifying in a hot way. I mean—impressive. In an impressive way.
The day before: You’re pretty when you’re annoyed. Sorry. Someone had to say it. Also: your eyeliner is unfairly perfect.
Today’s—
Galinda swallowed.
Today’s was folded in a pale green envelope, addressed in neat block letters so Elphaba wouldn’t recognize her handwriting, sealed with a sticker that said OPEN ME.
Inside was: You’re allowed to be hard to love. It doesn’t make you unlovable.
Pfannee’s voice softened, just a fraction. "Galinda.”
Galinda pasted on a smile.
"I’m just making sure she knows someone is thinking about her.”
Pfannee tilted his head. "Someone is.”
Galinda’s smile wobbled, but she held it. "Well. Someone should.”
Pfannee stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. "I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, because I’d like to remain friends with both of you when this inevitably explodes.”
"It’s not going to explode,” Galinda said immediately.
Pfannee’s look said: Keep telling yourself that, honey.
Galinda took today’s green envelope and slid it into the outgoing basket, heart thudding like it wanted out.
And then she watched the campus mail volunteer pick up the basket and walk away.
On the morning of the 14th, Galinda woke up like she’d been shot out of a cannon. She had three deliveries scheduled to their room—three—spaced out across the day like a carefully planned emotional ambush.
Which, to be completely honest, is kinda exactly what this is.
Elphaba, meanwhile, woke up like Valentine’s Day had personally crawled into bed with her and started chewing.
Galinda breezed into the room already talking. "Good morning, my darling little thundercloud! Happy February fourteenth, which is just a regular day, except everyone is being unbearable, which you will absolutely love.”
From the bed came a voice muffled by a pillow. "If you say the word 'love’ one more time—”
Galinda made a pained face, clutching her chest. "Wow. Violence. First thing in the morning.”
Elphaba finally sat up, hair a mess, glaring like she’d been interrupted mid-murder fantasy. "Why are you here.”
Galinda blinked, offended. "I live here.”
"No,” Elphaba said, suspicious already. "Why are you here like this.”
Galinda looked down at her outfit. Pink pajama set, fuzzy socks with hearts—why had she done that? "Like what?"
Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "Like you’re… waiting.”
The laugh that came out of Galinda was far too loud for eight in the morning. "Waiting? Me? Never. I am simply enjoying my morning in our shared habitat.”
Elphaba just stared at her.
The first message arrived at 9:17 a.m.
A slip under the door—pale envelope, sealed with a sticker.
Elphaba, who’d been trying to drink her coffee in peace, froze mid-sip.
Across the room, Galinda, who’d been casually polishing her nails on her bed, practically levitated.
Elphaba set her mug down slowly. "They’re doing this today?”
"Uh-huh. All day! It’s like… a romantic scavenger hunt."
"I didn’t ask for a romantic anything," Elphaba responds, staring at the envelope like it was going to hiss at her.
Galinda hopped off her bed with enthusiasm. "No one ever asks for romance, Elphie. It just… attacks.”
That earned her a glance that suggested Elphaba would like to attack back. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, she bent and picked the envelope up.
Galinda attempted to look anywhere else. The wall. The ceiling. Her own fingernails. The dust particles. Anything but Elphaba’s face. Or Elphaba’s fingers as they carefully open the envelope.
She pulled out the card, read it once—fast, like ripping off a bandage—then read it again, slower.
Her posture went tense, then subtly… not.
Not relaxed. Elphaba didn’t do relaxed. But something in her shoulders loosened, just a fraction.
Galinda’s heart did a little somersault.
A mutter followed, half-formed and caught in Elphaba’s throat. "This is—”
"Obviously brilliant?” Galinda offered, because she couldn’t help herself.
Elphaba glared without heat. "Annoying.”
By noon, Galinda had engineered her second coincidence.
She’d announced she was "taking a mental health day” from the student center (which was not a thing she usually did, because her default mental health plan was "talk until the universe gives up”), and somehow—somehow—she was in the dorm again right when the second message slid under the door.
Mid-highlight, Elphaba paused.
They both stared at the floor. Elphaba didn’t move right away this time. She just looked at the envelope with a kind of exhausted dread.
"Wow. That’s wild. Again. So crazy. Like… statistically improbable," Galinda said. She was playing it so cool.
Elphaba’s eyes cut to her. "You’re being weird.”
Or not.
Elphaba stood, slowly, and went to the door. She picked up the second envelope and turned it over like she was checking for fingerprints.
Galinda’s stomach dropped. Oh god. She hadn’t considered fingerprints. Did she have fingerprints? Of course she did. Everyone had fingerprints. Why did everyone have fingerprints.
Elphaba opened it.
Read it.
Didn’t immediately scoff this time. Good sign?
Instead, her mouth tightened, like she was trying not to let anything show.
Then she read it again.
Galinda’s throat went dry.
When Elphaba’s eyes lifted, they were sharper.
"Okay,” she said slowly. "This person… knows me.”
A laugh escaped Galinda as a tiny squeak. "Lots of people know you.”
"Not like this. This isn’t generic. This is…” She looked down again, as if the words might rearrange themselves into a name. "…specific.”
Galinda busied herself with absolutely nothing. She picked up a chapstick she didn’t need. She opened it. She closed it. She stared at it like it held the secrets of the universe.
Elphaba took a step closer, still holding the card. "It’s someone close.”
"Close is… relative," Galinda muttered, her heart slamming.
"You’re avoiding my eye contact.”
"I am not! I am making so much eye contact!”
A mouth twitch—dangerously close to amusement. "You’re also sweating.”
"It’s hot in here,” she blurts in a panic.
"It’s February."
Galinda nodded rapidly. "Global warming.”
For a long moment, Elphaba just stared at her, then looked back down at the card, quiet. "Why do they keep sending these? I’ve made it very clear I don’t want this whole… holiday.”
Galinda’s mouth opened before her brain caught up. "Maybe they don’t care about the holiday.”
Elphaba looked at her.
Galinda tried to smile. It wobbled. "Maybe they just… care about you.”
By the time the third message was due—late afternoon—Galinda had run out of ways to be coincidentally present without it becoming suspicious.
So she did the only thing she could do: she doubled down on being Galinda.
She dragged Elphaba to the dorm lounge under the pretense of "studying together,” even though Elphaba had said "I study better alone” and Galinda had replied, "That is sad and I will not allow it.”
They sat on the couch with their books open.
Elphaba attempted to read.
Galinda attempted to look like a person who was not internally screaming.
At 4:43 p.m., the lounge door opened and a student worker walked in with a small stack of envelopes, calling out names.
"Elphaba Thropp?”
Elphaba’s head snapped up.
Galinda’s soul left her body.
Slowly, like she was approaching a trap, Elphaba stood. "Yeah.”
The worker handed her a pale green envelope—Galinda’s favorite.
Instead of sitting back down, Elphaba just… held it. Then those sharp, dark eyes turned.
"Why,” Elphaba said, very calmly, "have you been with me for all three of these.”
A laugh burst out of Galinda. "Oh my god, have I? That’s so—”
Elphaba cut her off. "Galinda.”
The smile on Galinda’s face tightened, then froze, then threatened to shatter completely.
Her voice wasn’t angry. Not yet.
"You’ve been… hovering all day,” Elphaba said. "This morning. At lunch. Now.”
"I do not hover."
Elphaba’s eyes narrowed. "This person is someone close to me. Someone who knows what to say. Someone who knows what I hate.”
Galinda’s hands twisted in her lap. Her voice came out smaller than she meant it to. "Maybe they just like being around you.”
That earned a long stare.
Then she looked down at the envelope.
Slowly, carefully, Elphaba peeled it open.
Across the couch, Galinda watched like she was witnessing her own sentencing.
Elphaba pulled out the card.
Read it once.
Her expression shifted—just a fraction. Like the words had hit somewhere tender.
Then her eyes lifted again, straight to Galinda.
And Elphaba said, softly, "It’s you.”
Galinda made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a sob. "No it’s not.”
"Galinda.”
Heat rushed up Galinda’s neck, into her cheeks, into her ears. Her eyes stung. She tried to laugh it off, reflexive, desperate. "Elphie, be serious, I have a whole business—an entire operation—I can’t be sending—”
"You’re the only person who says things like this to me.” Elphaba took a step closer, lowering the card slightly. "And you keep looking at me when they arrive. Like you’re waiting to see if I like them."
Galinda’s breath hitched.
"I do," Elphaba said quickly, like she needed her to understand. "I do like them.
It’s just…” She exhaled, frustrated, as if feelings were an unsolvable math problem. "…you’re terrible at being anonymous.”
Even now—even now—Galinda’s pride flinched. "I am not terrible,” she whispered, wounded on principle even now.
Elphaba’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. Then she said, very quietly, "Why?”
Galinda’s whole body went still.
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Finally, she whispers: "Because you hate today. And you think that means you don’t get to have anything good."
Something in Elphaba’s face softened
Galinda’s voice wobbled, but she kept going, because once she started she couldn’t stop. "And because you act like you don’t want anyone, but you do. You do, Elphie. You just… don’t know how to ask.” Galinda’s hands came up, fluttering helplessly in front of her like she could shape her feelings into something less humiliating. "And I—” she swallowed hard, cheeks burning, "—I like you. I like you so much it makes me feel stupid."
Elphaba stared at her for a long moment, eyes bright in a way that made Galinda’s heart ache.
Then, quietly, Elphaba said, "So you wrote them.”
A nod, miserable and relieved all at once. "Yes.”
Elphaba looked down at the card again. Her thumb brushed over the edge.
"You know,” Elphaba said, voice rough, "I was going to be really mad.”
Galinda sniffed. "I assumed.”
"But I can’t figure out how to be mad at you,” Elphaba admitted, like it annoyed her, almost like it scared her.
"Oh thank god. Because I am very fragile.”
Elphaba huffed, almost a laugh herself. She stepped closer, close enough that Galinda had to tilt her head up to look at her.
And then Elphaba said, very softly, like it cost her something to admit: "I kept them.
Galinda’s breath caught.
"All of them.”
The words hit like a punch and a hug at the same time. "You did?”
A small nod. "They’re… annoying.”
Galinda’s smile trembled. "Thank you.”
Elphaba’s mouth twitched again, and this time the smile was real enough to make Galinda’s vision blur.
"Don’t do it again,” Elphaba murmured.
Galinda nodded quickly. "Okay.”
Elphaba paused, then added, quieter, "Unless… you’re doing it as you.”