Work Text:
It was peaceful out in the wetlands of Quadling Country. Not quiet, far from it actually, but peaceful. Warm winds rustled the leaves of trees, mosquitoes hummed, an owl hooted. Along with the sounds of the leaves, the wind brought with it the scent of the wildflowers growing nearby. It was a full moon that night, and there was plenty of light from both the moon and the numerous fireflies that twinkled above the water. Despite what felt like lots of light, it was still perfectly dark enough to see the stars.
The water was calm, still, and shallow, and so when armed with tall rubber boots reaching well past her knees, Elphaba felt nearly no apprehension going out into it on the small rowboat she and Glinda had found. It was worth it to go so close to the water, she thought, to see the spellbound look on Glinda’s face as she gazed at their surroundings.
She set down the oars, pulling their blanket more tightly around her legs. The sun had been down for a while, and though the breeze was warm now she could feel it cooling.
“You really used to live here?” Glinda asked.
“I did. I don’t think I enjoyed it as much as you are now, though.”
Glinda said nothing, gazing up towards the stars. After a moment, she spoke.
“I don’t remember ever having seen the stars so clearly before.”
Elphaba looked up. The stars really were visible here, something she had always taken for granted in childhood. It was always a sure thing for her, a constant, that they would be there. The sun rose, then set, and then the stars shone. It had been strange for her upon first attending Shiz. In a more populated area, there was more light, and for the first time in her life the stars just hadn’t shone as brightly. It had been unnerving at first, but over time she became accustomed to it.
“Was it not dark enough?”
Glinda tilted her head, her eyes remaining on the stars.
“It was, I just kept inside. During the day and night. I sometimes watched the stars through my windows though.”
“Why?”
Elphaba couldn’t imagine a childhood spent indoors. Every spare moment of time she found for herself she spent outdoors, except during the rainy season. She thrived on the warmth of the sun, the cool dry ground beneath her bare feet, the fresh air filling her lungs. She may not have eaten grass as a child, but she spent her days playing on it.
Glinda shifted, moving to sit closer to Elphaba and leaning against her side. The boat rocked, disturbing the stillness of the water, but neither noticed.
“To stay clean, mostly. I didn’t want dirt on my dresses, or wind messing up my hair. My friends liked to stay inside anyway.”
“Oh.”
Elphaba thought for a moment, trying to imagine it. A life like that was a far cry from her own, and though her upbringing wasn’t always the greatest, she wouldn’t have wanted to trade it for a life indoors.
“I used to wish on the stars, did you ever do that?” Glinda asked.
“No, why would you do that?”
Elphaba remembered a few older wishes of hers. Most were unrealistic, so unrealistic that she began to wish she didn’t have wishes. It was typically a waste of time to put hope into these things, yet despite it she found that sometimes she still did. One of her wishes, now, was something she was sure was so far out of reach that it would never come true. Glinda would never feel that way, so it couldn’t come true.
She sighed to herself. She wished a lot of things, and very few had come true.
Glinda shot up from where she was leaning against Elphaba, looking at her now instead of the stars.
“Really? Never?”
“No? Was I supposed to?”
“Elphie, everyone wishes on stars!”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Then try!”
Glinda was getting really close now.
“Is there anything you really want?”
Elphaba felt like her heart stopped beating for a moment. Yes, there was. There really was.
Silently, she nodded.
Glinda moved away from her, looking back to the stars.
“Pick a star.”
Elphaba did, a very bright one towards the north.
“Now repeat after me. Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.”
Elphaba repeated.
“Now close your eyes and wish.”
Glinda shut her eyes tightly, and Elphaba did the same. She made her wish. Glinda must have made hers too, because when Elphaba opened her eyes again, Glinda was watching her with a small smile.
“What did you wish for?” Elphaba asked.
“If you tell someone what you wished for it won’t come true!”
“I see.”
Elphaba was amused by the seriousness Glinda seemed to approach wishes with. It was sweet.
Somewhere, a frog croaked. The fireflies continued to fly around them like little stars that had come down from the sky to be observed up close.
“I used to wish I could be a star,” Glinda told her, looking back to the dark sky. “It would be nice up there. Pretty, too.”
“You’d be lonely,” Elphaba pointed out, “You’re always around other people.”
It was true, Glinda was quite the social butterfly. Elphaba thought life as a star might be a nice one, she enjoyed some time alone. Of course, there were some people she realized now that she would miss.
Glinda shrugged, slapping at a mosquito.
“If I was a star, I could talk to the other stars,” she defended.
Elphaba couldn’t help herself and laughed.
“Yes, I guess you could.”
Soon they were both laughing.
Glinda would have made an amazing star, Elphaba thought.
Glinda went back to her spot of leaning against Elphaba’s side. Assuming she was cold, the air had taken on a chill, Elphaba pulled the blanket closer around them and wrapped an arm around Glinda’s shoulders.
After a moment, Elphaba spoke.
“I wouldn’t like to be a star, but I think I’d like to have one. Maybe just to hold it for a moment.”
“Why?”
Glinda turned to look up at Elphaba but didn’t move away. She felt just so close, but still out of reach. Quickly, Elphaba looked away, breaking their sudden eye contact.
“I don’t know. They’re beautiful. Nice, too. Smart when they want to be-”
“What?” Glinda cut her off.
Elphaba blushed.
“Nothing,” she said quickly, “Forget it.”
Suddenly Glinda shot forward, reaching out and catching a firefly, holding it carefully in her hands. The boat rocked dangerously, and Elphaba tried to steady it so that the two of them wouldn’t fall in. Water rippled away from the boat in small waves which got smaller and smaller as the boat became still again.
“Sorry,” Glinda said, sitting back how she was before, “Anyway, since you want to hold a star, here. It’s close, right?”
She held out her closed hands to pass the firefly to Elphaba. Smiling, Elphaba accepted. Once the firefly was safely in Elphaba’s hands, though, Glinda’s hands didn’t move away. They held the firefly together, looking at each other rather than the bug.
Elphaba brought the firefly closer to her face, peering at it through her fingers. Glinda moved closer and did the same on the other side.
They watched the blinking bug for a few minutes. It looked different up close, less like a twinkling star and more like just a normal bug. It looked small, trapped there in their hands.
“We should let it go,” Elphaba finally said.
“Yes.”
And so they did. Together, they opened their hands and watched as the firefly flew away. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands, though, nor did they move away. The closeness of before felt like miles away compared to this. Elphaba studied Glinda, scarcely daring to breathe.
Elphaba wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but one of them must have, because suddenly she felt like she was floating in space among the stars she and Glinda had been watching moments before. Because Glinda was kissing her. And it was incredible.
Finally, they broke apart.
Neither said anything, but both had smiles on their faces. Still holding hands, they went back to their earlier places, cuddled closer this time.
“The stars are beautiful tonight, aren’t they?” Glinda said.
“Yes,” replied Elphaba, though she was looking at Glinda, not the stars. “They are.”
Maybe her star had really been a wish-granting star.
Or maybe, just maybe, the stars and her wishes weren’t so out of reach after all.