the rain begins in earnest. not the polite drizzle of shiz mornings, but a storm that drags the whole sky down with it. fiyero’s caught between curses and laughter when he ducks beneath the awning, droplets clinging to his hair, his collar, his pulse, and then he realizes he isn’t alone. there’s a figure already there, framed by the gray blur of the street beyond, all edges and shadows and eyes that could cut glass. elphaba, the one person the universe insists on setting in his path when he least expects it. they looks as though they'd rather walk into the lightning than share shelter, but neither of them move. the silence hums, tight and bright as the space between thunder and strike. he runs a hand through his hair, trying and failing not to grin. he lets his shoulder brush theirs, barely, a whisper of contact, just enough that they feel it through the chill. ❝ you know ❞ he murmurs, tilting his head as though studying them the way scholars study galaxies, ❝ if we’re pretending we don’t always end up in the same place… we’re doing a terrible job of it. ❞ he steps closer, shrugging his coat but not yet handing it over. ❝ tell me, elphaba… if we keep ending up like this, pressed together while the world tries to drown us, maybe the universe is trying to say something. ❞ the rain pushes again, driving them half a step toward him, close enough that their breath grazes his collarbone. fiyero’s smile gentles, warm in a way the storm has no business permitting. ❝ i didn’t come looking for you ❞ he says, softer, truer, ❝ but i’m not exactly complaining. ❞ @fabala