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“Natalie?”
Elle’s voice is soft, sure and Emily hates that she’s grown used to this fake name, this fake existence. She can’t be Emily at the moment, she has to be gone, be dead, be Natalie Jones. Anything is better than her own very real death.
“Elle…”
“Are you alright?”
Elle will never tell Emily she knows who she really is. She won’t scare her away, even as she watches Emily toy with her shirt, straightening it in an attempt to soothe herself.
“As much as I can be…”
“Let me walk you home?”
“Please.”
Much later, after Emily is packing to go home, she will learn that Elle always knew who she was, but for now… for now it’s enough that Elle loves Natalie enough to walk her home, stay the night, not leave her dealing with an empty bed and longing for her friends.