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Falling in love with Elle is hard. Objectively, it doesn't make a lot of sense. She’s not his type at all - excitable, rich, a little too focused on her appearance and very, well…, girly. Emmett, while generally not the type to fall in love easily, considers himself to be someone who judges people based on their character rather than their looks. It’s kind of hard not to notice Elle’s looks though, when she keeps strutting around campus in high-heels and alarmingly short miniskirts.
Elle is obviously someone who’s acutely aware of the body, she was gifted, and where using that body will get her. Witnessing her baring her cleavage to Warner on multiple occasions unsettles him in ways he can’t really put into words. There’s probably some deep-rooted misogyny at play here, plus the fact he’s never been someone to be admired for his lass than average looks, but he just doesn't get why anyone would want to debase themselves like that. Maybe frivolity is something you have to resort to, though, if you have nothing else to fall back onto.
And maybe that’s the point. Elle has been dealt so many aces in her life - she’s beautiful and rich – that it’s hard not to get angry when looking down at his own shitty hand sometimes. He can only image the way she will have undoubtedly weaponised her pearl-white smile and perfectly manicured hands during the application process, while he had to actually make up for whatever awkward headshot he put into that file. So maybe it’s not that someone like Elle made it into Harvard, despite her looks - maybe it’s the fact that someone like Elle made it into Harvard because of her looks. Fortune favours the beautiful and all that. Even the board members of Havard must have eyes, after all.
And if her looks alone hadn’t been enough, he’s sure her Daddy would have paid the board a non-negligible sum of money to sway them in their decision. Ultimately, there’s always something to upgrade around campus. He hears there has been talk of a new gym.
The worst thing might be that Elle doesn’t actually know how to appreciate any of it. She thinks that it’s just as easy for everyone else. That none of them have to worry about how they’ll make rent or balance their three jobs plus exams. That none of them have to worry about excelling their courses just so they won’t drown in a sea of mediocrity and prematurely bury their dream of ever moving out of that one room apartment. That none of them struggle with the brand-new person they had to invent to keep afloat in the hostile environment of social hierarchy.
Instead, she’s constantly attached to Warner’s side, not even pretending to care about the classes. Instead, she engages in a manipulative, sexualized warfare, obviously annoying him and everyone else in the process, but never once showing even a hint of embarrassment. Instead of trying to prove them wrong, she seems set on proving them right over and over again. Instead of living her own dream, she chose to steal the one someone like Emmett might have fought tooth and nail for.
And it’s not that Emmett doesn’t care. He cares a lot actually - about his mum, his future, his career. But after suffering at the hands of inequality all his life, he can’t really find it in himself to care about someone who clearly has all the cards, but is too cowardly to use them. Someone who doesn’t even care about winning the game.
Sometimes he wants to shake her by the shoulders and tell her she doesn’t need to be this. She doesn’t have to follow Warner around campus like a braindead puppy. She doesn’t have to make the others like her. She doesn’t have to wear pink like a target on her back. She could leave and find her happiness where it actually lies. Put her coat back on and just…be.
Or, maybe, she’s right about it all. Maybe getting into Harvard was just as easy for everyone else, because they have parents who come from even longer lines of money and prestige. Maybe none of them had to struggle finding their place in the social hierarchy because politics is what they’ve been taught since birth. Maybe none of them had to reinvent themselves, because they’ve always been confident in who they were destined to be - not an awkward kid, who couldn’t even recognise himself in the mirror. And maybe all their smiles and feigned friendliness are a warfare just as manipulative, hidden only behind dusty traditions and eloquent legal jargon.
Maybe, it’s Emmett that’s the odd one out.
So, when he finds Elle, sitting on a bench, dressed in a bunny costume with tear tracks on her cheeks, there is really no decision to be made. The air of the night is cool on his skin as he wraps his jacket around her shoulders. “You need a chip on your shoulder, Little Miss Woods comma Elle.”
And if the fluttering, that erupts inside his chest as she gives him a tentative smile, is anything to go by, he might just care after all.
Falling in love with Elle is easy. Objectively, it doesn't make a lot of sense. She’s not his type at all - excitable, rich, a little too focused on her appearance and very, well…, girly. Emmett, while generally not the type to fall in love easily, considers himself to be someone who judges people based on their character rather than their looks. It’s kind of hard not to notice Elle’s looks, though, when her smile lights up a whole room.
Elle is beautiful, yes. But Emmett finds the moments she’s most beautiful are those when she’s not even trying. When she stumbles to her feet after a three-hour learning session. When her brows furrow while she’s trying to figure out a question. Those moments, when no one is looking – at least no one that Elle actually cares about – when her beauty is amplified by the radiating glow from within.
Elle is obviously someone who’s acutely aware of the body, she was gifted, and where using that body will get her. Witnessing her baring her cleavage to Warner on multiple occasions unsettles him in ways he can’t really put into words. There’s probably some deep-rooted misogyny at play here, plus the fact he’s never been someone to be admired for his lass than average looks, but he just doesn't get why Elle would want to debase herself like that when she doesn’t have to. Maybe frivolity is something you have to resort to, though, if you have been told over and over again that you have nothing else to fall back onto.
And maybe that’s the point. Elle has been dealt so many aces in her life - she’s beautiful, rich and smart – that it’s hard not to get angry when looking down at his own shitty hand sometimes. He can only image the things she could have been able to achieve if someone dared to see the person locked inside of her. But all she’s been told to do is sit by and tend to someone else’s potential.
So maybe it’s not that someone like Elle made it into Harvard, despite her looks - maybe it’s the fact that someone like Elle made it into Harvard because of her looks. Maybe it’s the fact that she is actually acutely aware of the body, she was gifted – but, if she can’t stop them from looking anyway, she might as well use it to her advantage. Because, if there is no version of Elle that doesn’t care about her looks, then what’s the point of letting the creeps win and denying who you really are?
The worst thing might be that Elle doesn’t actually know how to appreciate any of it. To her, making it into Havard is not an achievement. To her, the only relevant achievement is being a loveable girlfriend. Instead of trying to prove them wrong she seems set on proving them right over and over again. Instead of living the dream she could have, she chose to live the one someone else dreamed for her.
It’s actually a little unsettling how perfectly Elle falls into that role. How, to her, spending hours in front of a mirror isn’t actually a horror but something she likes to do. How choosing the perfect dress relaxes her after a long day of classes. It scares him to think about what might have happened if she hadn’t followed Warner here on a whim. Maybe she would have learned to break free. Or maybe she wouldn’t have cared, contend to stay in her own little pond.
And it’s not that Elle doesn’t care. She cares a lot actually - about people she’s barely met, about what lip gloss should go with what dress, about the texture of her dorm’s toilet paper. But it’s things so miniscule they almost seem specially chosen to provoke as little controversy as possible. The kind of topic you and your girl friends would discuss over tea, while the men talk politics in the next room.
It’s a bit like that thing with the hen and the egg– the girl girly situation. Was Elle perfect for her role as wife to begin with, and was that why she felt so comfortable to fall into it - or did she have to become perfect for the role, if it was the only thing her life could lead towards?
Sometimes he wants to shake her by the shoulders and tell her she doesn’t need to be this. She doesn’t have to spend hours in front of the mirror to look acceptable. She doesn’t have to make the others like her. She doesn’t have to wear pink like a sign of her devotion and servility. She could become her own person. She could trade her dresses for pants and just…be.
He doesn’t fall in love often but with Elle it’s so easy he doesn’t even realise it at first. He slips into her life like he would slip into a pair of well-worn sneakers. She’s friendly, bubbly and uncomplicated – something that feels plastic and duplicitous at first, but which he quickly learns is just so unapologetically Elle. She doesn’t expect him to be anything, simply treats him with the same respect and kindness she extends to everybody else. The only person she doesn’t extend that kindness and respect to is herself.
Or, maybe, she’s right. Maybe they live in an imperfect world, where everyone is just as much the person everyone sees in them as the person they want to be. Maybe putting on a stiff lawyer suit and stuck-up smile is the same sort of pretending as in Malibu, just with different clothes. Maybe actually liking the things everyone told you to like, isn’t betrayal of the person you could become. Maybe breaking free of the confines of girlhood is not actually self-fulfilment, freedom, equalisation, if it’s just as much denying who you really are. Maybe there is no secret person inside of you, but just…you. Maybe sometimes you just have to make the best of the cards the world dealt you.
Maybe, it’s Emmett, who’s been denying parts of him for too long.
So, when Emmett follows her into a room, which looks like someone designed it after taking one look at a Barbie castle, he finds that he can’t simply let it be. There is a clatter every time another object hits the bottom of the basket in his hands. “What are you angry? Good so get angry.”
And if the glare she gives him is anything to go by, she might just know how to care after all.
Liking Elle is hard, not because she’s a particularly hard person to like, but because there is so little they should actually like about the other. If there has ever been an unlikely pair of friends, it’s them.
Elle is rich and Emmett is poor. Emmett is a lawyer and Elle is, well…, something else entirely. Emmett can never understand the names she mumbles when talking about her designer dresses, just as much as Elle will never understand the anxiety of another unpaid invoice. He can never understand having mussels for dinner or driving a car which doesn’t emit concerning amounts of smoke every time it’s turned on, just as much as she will never understand living with a dripping shower and a mouldy kitchen. He can never understand having more than a single house and going on vacation, just as much as Elle will never understand stepping into the bus and only stepping off once the buildings have lost all of their glamour.
Elle won’t ever be a classy lawyer just as much as he won’t be a classy lawyer.
Sometimes he thinks Elle might be the first person to actually see him, fixing him with eyes too caring for her own good, listening to everything he has to say, without interrupting or making fun of him, when he can’t find the right words the first time around. Resting a comforting hand on his arm, like she knows exactly what’s going on inside of him. She doesn’t know, though - she doesn’t see him. Doesn’t see the aching feeling her touch leaves inside his chest. Doesn’t see the insecurities that haunt him in his darkest hours. Doesn’t even see the person he selfishly longs to be. She only sees the person he should be - the person she needs the most.
There have only ever been two types of men in Emmett’s life: first, there were the bums his mum used to go out with when he was younger - men with foul breath and even fouler looks. Men that cared more about where to get the next bottle of beer than how to pay their rent. After that came the real men. The respectable lawyers with suits that looked unassuming but cost more than his annual salary. Briefcases that were slim and sleek but carried the weight of the world inside of them. Men who were classy in their understated elegance.
Most days Emmett feels like an imposter - like he’s lying to himself, everyone around, but especially to Elle. But after the many unlucky manly incidents in her life, she seems so happy to have finally connected with one, that he can’t bring himself to tell her the truth. Instead, he keeps up his masquerade, politely excusing himself every time he can feel his abdomen tying into painful knots.
There have only ever been two types of girls in Elle’s life: first, there were her sorority sisters, girls whose sole purpose seemed to be to be as assuming as possible and where looks mattered above all else. After that came the classy lawyer types, girls like Vivian, who learned when to speak and made every precious word count. Those who’d rather be anything than reduced to their looks.
Most days Elle seems like an imposter – a flamingo that stumbled its way into Harvard halls somehow. But after the many meaningless, superficial successes her old life gifted her, she seems so happy to have finally made this one her own, that he doesn’t have it in him to tell her the truth. And it’s not that he thinks that she couldn’t be a successful lawyer. No, it’s more the fact that he’s pretty sure she would give it all up in a heartbeat if Warner just so much as looked at her again.
And just as Emmett never seemed to find his way into being a real man, with his gangly limbs, awkward attitude and unrealistic aspirations, Elle seems to stick out amongst her peers by always being too present, too smart.
So, when his words are, once again, ignored as Elle’s brain is reduced to mush by Warner’s presence, he thinks he might just have get used to the idea of living in Warner’s shadow forever. “Define malum prohibitum,” he tries a second time.
And if her vacant stare is anything to go by, her fate might be the same
Liking Elle is easy, not only because she’s very easy person to like, but also because there is so much they should like about each other. If there has ever been an unlikely pair of friends, it’s them. But friends they are, nonetheless.
Elle is rich and Emmett is poor. Emmett is a lawyer and Elle is, well…, something else entirely. Emmett can never understand the names she mumbles when talking about her designer dresses, but he can understand the way she brightens when she talks about them. He can never understand having mussels for dinner or driving a car which doesn’t emit concerning amounts of smoke every time it’s turned on, but he can understand staying up all night and drinking Red Bull just to make it through the morning. He can never understand having more than a single house and going on vacation, but he can understand watching CSI Miami and complaining about the inaccurate law representation.
Elle will never understand the anxiety of another unpaid invoice, but she can understand the lurking anxiety of having to impress Calahan despite his unrealistic expectations. She will never understand living with a dripping shower and mouldy kitchen, but she can understand his love for their local park and its squirrel population. She will never understand stepping into the bus and only stepping off once the buildings have lost all of their glamour, but she can understand the way Emmett is drawn to the comfort of simply hoodies and second-hand shops.
As they learn together, they also learn from each other.
Most days he feels like this might just be the realest they can ever get. He thinks about telling her sometimes, when she’s recounted another heartbreaking truth about her life in that hushed voice she only ever uses when she doesn’t want anyone else to hear, tracing patterns on his palm before leaning into his side. He can almost find it in himself to tell her then. To stop masquerading and just let her know him entirely.
And maybe he would have, some day, if it hadn’t been for his abdomen tying into painful knots and taking the decision from him.
So, maybe Elle is right – as she so often is – when she hands him a box of tampons after an unfortunate incident in her bathroom - which nearly sends him down three panic attacks that, for once, have nothing to do with the amount of Red Bull he’s been consuming - and he hasn’t been lying about who he really is. Maybe it’s not about the person they used to be but the person they are with each other. Maybe the past is something that influences them but doesn’t need to define who they are. Maybe Emmett is just as much that classy lawyer as Elle is.
So, when Elle reduces Warner to a stammering mess in front of Callahan and all her peers, he hopes that she might just stop living in Warner’s shadow after all. “Ms. Woods, you just won your case.”
And if the brilliant smile and warm hug she gives him afterwards is anything to go by, his fate might just be the same.
Loving Elle is hard, not because Elle is a particularly hard person to love, but because Emmett is. He knows he will never have a chance with someone like her. He hasn’t been dealt any aces in his life - he’s not rich, not particularly good looking either. Sure, he’s smart and he prides himself on not being a complete asshole, but that’s never been anything the ladies go crazy over.
Back in school, the only girl he dared to ask out actually laughed into his face. Though that might have been for a different reason entirely. And after going off to Harvard to start a new life, he didn’t dare try again - too afraid to lose this new, fragile version of himself in someone else.
Emmett isn’t boyfriend material - he’s best friend material. In a movie he would be the slightly awkward but loveable sidekick who helps his best friend find her big love.
And maybe that’s the point. It might be some sort of cruel joke that the first person Emmett actually falls for in year, just so happens to be the one person he knows he can never have, because she came here specifically to follow another man. And even if Elle is a little less insane about the idea these days, it still hovers between them like an unspoken truth.
He thinks about her dream sometimes - the villa overlooking the coast, the diamond ring on her finger. The wedding that perhaps was never about Warner in the first place, but simply a vague dream of feeling wanted and what could be. And while he’s sure she would never have found her happiness with Warner, he’s not sure she could find her happiness with him either. Not if it meant denying her that dream a second time.
His love for her is selfish. Elle is only just finding her footing in being herself. And after the many unlucky manly incidents in her life, she seems so happy to have finally connected with one, that can’t bring himself to tell her the truth – that he’s just as bad as them. That he is only the next in a long line of men who saw something of themselves in her. Who saw a vulnerable young woman and couldn’t help but reduce her to something that needed to be adored instead of regarded as an equal.
If there is one thing that Emmett knows, it’s that Elle deserves better. She deserves better than Warner and his self-absorbed tendencies. But she also deserves better than Emmett who judges Warner for his actions, only to throw bricks at his own glasshouse. Who lectures her on the fight against inequality but gave up on his own fight a long time ago.
He wonders sometimes if Elle is what he could have become if he had just believed in himself a little more. If instead of choosing the coward’s route, he liked to call self-fulfilment, he would have tried becoming comfortable with himself. Maybe he would have broken under the pressure. Or maybe, just maybe - he could have been happy.
He tries to summon that happiness now, dressed in a perfect suit, Subtext clinging to his neck, looking like he stepped straight out of a dream his younger self might have had. He thinks he says that he looks like Warner. He doesn’t. The suit might be something Warner would wear, but the face that stares back at him is not that of a confident young man but that of a fraud.
Emmett doesn’t fall in love easily, but when he does, he falls hard. Sometimes it’s a stabbing inside his ribcage, whenever Elle smiles at him. Sometimes it’s a deep kind of sadness that overcomes him, whenever he looks at her too long. Sometimes it’s like sweating and freezing at the same time, lying awake at night and trying flutily to stop thinking about her. Sometimes he feels so full that he thinks the only way to survive might be to punch a hole into his apartment wall. Sometimes he feels like the centre of the universe, just because she remembered his coffee order. Other times he feels like a creep for even daring to think these kinds of things about her.
Because if Emmett is side-kick material then Elle Woods is the protagonist. Confident and beautiful. Where Emmett gritted his teeth and took it like a man, she bared hers and told them exactly where they could shove it.
Or maybe she’s right. Maybe he shouldn’t let his life be dictated by what the plot says he should be. Maybe wearing a fancy suit is just like putting in the extra work so people will finally take you seriously. Maybe adoring her doesn’t have to be a crime, if he still leaves her with a choice.
So, when Emmett finds himself facing a closed door after a trail turned disaster, and she tells him that there’s no reason for her to stay, there is only fear inside of him. The wood of the door is unforgiving under his fingers. “We’ll fight it.” His love for her is selfish, just as asking her to stay is.
And if the teary smile she gives him is anything to go by, they won’t.
Being in love with Elle is easy, not only because Elle is a very easy person to love, but also because loving Emmett might not be as impossible as he thought it was.
Emmett hasn’t been dealt any aces in his life - he’s not rich, not particularly good looking either. But he’s smart and he prides himself on not being a complete asshole – and…maybe that’s all it takes. Maybe sometimes the only thing someone loves you for is…yourself.
He doesn’t love Elle just because she’s beautiful. He doesn’t love her just for her amazing brain either. He loves her for that high voice she uses for chiding Bruiser, for how a manicure is her solution to every problem, for the noises she makes when she sleeps, and for the billion little things in between. Maybe he can’t really tell, why he loves her exactly. Maybe he just does.
And maybe that’s the point. It might be some sort of cruel joke that the person Elle actually falls for, just so happens to be the one she said she never would fall in love with, because he was supposed to be different. And even if Elle is a little less insane about the idea these days, it still hovers between them like an unspoken truth.
His love for her is unconditional. Emmett is only just finding his footing in being himself. But maybe there is nothing malicious about his adoration, when there is nothing inherently moral about human connection in the first place. Maybe they’re only the next in a long row of couples who saw something of themselves in the other. Where Emmett saw a vulnerable young woman and couldn’t help but offer help like he wished someone else had offered it to him, Elle saw a kindred spirit in the uncertainty of an unfamiliar environment.
If there is one thing that Emmett knows, it’s that Elle deserves better. But Emmett is trying very hard to become that better person. Because, in the end, that’s all he can do.
He wonders sometimes what have become of him if he hadn’t believed in himself. If instead of trying to become comfortable with who he was, he would have chosen the coward’s route instead. Maybe he could have been happy. Or maybe, just maybe - he was always meant rise from the ashes.
Back then, it felt like changing. Now he thinks he might have always been this - he just didn’t look the part. And maybe changing was staying true to himself more than staying could have ever been. Maybe becoming himself was never a betrayal of girlhood, when he wasn’t a girl to begin with.
It’s funny, he thinks, how Elle and he started so similarly but ended up with opposite solutions - how she found happiness by embracing girlhood while he left it behind.
He feels that happiness now, dressed in a perfect suit, Subtext clinging to his neck, looking like he stepped straight out of a dream his younger self might have had. He thinks he says that he looks like Warner. He doesn’t. The suit might be something Warner would wear, but the face that stares back at him is his own.
Emmett doesn’t fall in love easily, but he finds that being in love is actually pretty simple. Maybe because he’s been doing it for a very long time. It’s that warmth inside his chest, whenever Elle smiles at him. It’s the adoration he feels, whenever he looks at her too long. It’s lying awake at night and listening to her breathing evening out. It’s wanting to punch a wall sometimes and her being the centre of his universe. It’s remembering her coffee order and everything else he never dared to dream of.
Because if Elle Woods is protagonist material, then Emmett Forrest will have to be too. Confident and beautiful.
So, when Warner finds Elle after a trail turned spectacle and Emmett spots the familiar shape of ring box in his pocket, there is no fear inside of him. Instead, he smiles. “I’ll see you later.” His love for her is unconditional, just as asking her to stay is.
And if the smile she gives him is anything to go by, he will.