Chapter Text
Seattle was not supposed to be pink.
At least, that was what most people seemed to believe.
Seattle was supposed to be gray. Gray skies, gray sidewalks, gray buildings with serious-looking people walking around holding serious-looking coffee cups while talking about serious things. Seattle was supposed to be raincoats and boots and sweaters in colors Elle Woods personally believed should only exist in a dentist’s waiting room.
But Elle Woods had never really been interested in what things were supposed to be.
She caught her reflection in a window as she walked past. Usually, seeing herself made her smile.
Not because she was obsessed with herself. People always got that wrong.
Elle liked Elle. There was a difference.
She stepped onto the school ground wearing a bubblegum-pink coat that looked like it had been made specifically to brighten up a cloudy morning, a matching skirt, white boots, and a tiny pink handbag hanging from her arm. Her blonde hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, soft and shiny, the kind of hair that made people turn their heads before they even realized they were staring.
She knew people looked.
They always did.
Elle had spent enough time in Seattle now to understand that people here had a very specific idea of what was normal. They liked to blend in. They liked neutral colors. They liked acting like caring about appearances was somehow a character flaw.
Elle disagreed.
A person’s outfit was a form of communication. It was a first impression. It was a tiny piece of happiness you could carry around with you.
And honestly?
The world was already gloomy enough without everyone dressing like they were auditioning to be a cloud.
She walked through the school entrance, her heels clicking softly against the floor, and smiled when a few familiar faces waved at her.
It had taken time.
When Elle first came to Seattle, she had felt like she had landed on another planet. Everything was different. The weather, the people, the energy. Everyone seemed a little more guarded, a little quieter.
But Elle Woods was very good at one thing.
Making people talk.
She had learned names. She had remembered birthdays. She had complimented outfits. She had brought cupcakes when someone had a bad week. She had become the person people came to when they needed advice, even if they pretended they weren’t asking for advice.
Because Elle wasn’t just pink and sparkles.
And maybe that was something people in Seattle didn’t expect from her at first.
She adjusted the strap of her handbag and glanced around the hallway.
Today, though, she wasn’t thinking about school.
She had a mission.
Liz’s birthday was coming up, and Elle had finally thought of the perfect idea.
It had taken her three different lists and one extremely serious conversation with herself in front of her closet, but she had figured it out.
Not just any birthday party.
A Liz party.
When Elle had first met her, she never would have guessed they would become friends.
Honestly, she hadn’t even been sure they would survive a conversation.
But Liz just became Liz. One of Elle’s people, and she wasn’t the kind of person who wanted a huge, obvious celebration where everyone screamed her name the second she walked in. She would probably hate that.
She liked things that felt private. Special.
Elle had imagined fairy lights, music, everyone bringing something meaningful instead of random gifts. She had even looked up Scorpio personality traits because, yes, Elle absolutely believed birthdays mattered and yes, she absolutely believed zodiac signs could tell you things about people. Maybe something with black and gold because Liz always looked good in darker colors, even though Elle personally thought everyone looked better with at least a little pink.
She had been waiting all morning to tell her.
Elle smiled to herself as she walked down the hallway.
She was going to tell her. She was going to find Liz, grab her arm, and say something like: “Okay, don’t freak out, but I have literally the best idea for your birthday.”
And Liz would pretend she wasn’t excited.
Elle’s smile appeared before she even reached her.
“Liz—” The word never made it out.
She spotted her near the lockers. And then she stopped.
At first, Elle didn’t understand what she was seeing.
Her brain almost refused to process it.
Because there was Liz.
Her Liz.
With her short brown hair, slightly messy in that effortlessly pretty way, her pale skin glowing under the harsh school lights, and those warm brown eyes Elle had always thought were impossible to read because Liz always seemed like she was keeping at least one secret.
And there was Kimberly. Confident, loved Kimberly. Elle used to hate that about her.
At first.
Kimberly had been Elle’s enemy.
Or, at least, that was what Elle had decided.
But then things changed. Because people changed. That was something Elle believed very strongly.
Kimberly had become someone Elle respected. Someone she could actually talk to. Someone who wasn’t just a person standing in her way.
And then Elle saw it.
The kiss.
But it felt like the entire hallway disappeared.
Elle’s fingers tightened around her handbag. Her stomach dropped so quickly it almost hurt.
Trying to understand why she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Because she loved Liz.
She loved talking to Liz. She loved making her laugh. She loved the way Liz always pretended not to care about things but secretly cared about everything.
And now—
Now Liz was kissing Kimberly.
Elle looked away for a second, like maybe if she looked back it would somehow be different.
It wasn’t.
A strange feeling twisted in her chest. And then, suddenly, another thought appeared. A horrible thought. A thought that made her feel even worse.
Am I being…
Elle swallowed.
Am I being homophobic?
That wasn’t the problem.
It couldn’t be. Could it?
She thought back. She remembered detention. She remembered sitting there with them.
She remembered looking at Liz and Kimberly and thinking they actually made sense together.
She remembered secretly hoping they would stop fighting and realize they liked each other.
She had wanted that. She had literally wanted them to be together.
So why—
Why did seeing it actually happen make her stomach twist?
Her hand tightened around her bag.
She felt tears threaten, not because she was heartbroken, but because she was terrified.
What kind of person was she?
Why did she feel upset?
Why did seeing Liz happy hurt?
Elle had always believed she was someone who accepted people. She had defended people. She had stood up for people.
So why was her first reaction pain?
Her cheeks burned with shame. She hated that feeling. Because Liz deserved happiness.
Elle’s heart squeezed. She should be happy for them.
She should walk over, smile, and say something perfect. Something supportive. Something that showed she was the kind of person she always believed herself to be.
But her feet didn’t move.
Not toward them.n
Away.
“Elle?” Liz called, but Elle froze.
For one second, she almost turned around.
She imagined Liz’s face when she saw her. She imagined explaining. She imagined saying congratulations. She imagined being mature and kind and wonderful.
But her throat felt tight. She couldn’t. Not right now.
So Elle Woods did the only thing she could think of.
She turned around.
And she walked.
At first, she walked normally.
Then faster.
Her boots clicked against the floor, quicker and quicker, until she was almost rushing down the hallway.
She didn’t want Liz to see her face. She didn’t want Liz to see that she looked hurt.
Because what would that say about her?
She reached the corner and finally stopped, pressing a hand against her chest.
The hallway noise came back all at once.
People laughing.
Lockers opening.
Footsteps.
Life continuing like nothing had happened.
Elle stared down at her perfect pink outfit.
Normally, it made her feel powerful.
Confident.
Like she could handle anything.
But today it felt like a costume.
Because underneath the pink coat and the perfect hair and the carefully chosen lipstick was a girl who was scared she wasn’t as good of a person as she thought she was.
She hugged her arms around herself.
“I’m not homophobic,” she whispered.
The words sounded strange out loud. Like she was trying to convince someone. Like she was trying to convince herself.
“I’m not.”
Because she wasn’t.
She knew she wasn’t.
She had spent her whole life believing people deserved love. Everyone deserved love.
The worst part was wondering what this said about Elle herself.
She took a shaky breath. Then she lifted her chin. Because she was Elle Woods. And Elle Woods always figured things out.
--
Elle made it through exactly sixty more minutes of school. That was impressive, actually.
Most people would not have considered sixty minutes to be much of a challenge.
Elle Woods would argue that sixty minutes was actually quite a long time.
Elle sat in her next class, staring at the same page in her notebook for half the period, and managing to absorb not a single word.
Usually Elle took spectacular notes.
Her notes were neat, her headings organized, she had different colored pens for different subjects. She even got complimented by a professor once, saying they looked nice enough to go in a magazine, which she thought was a pretty nice compliment.
Today, though, there was only one sentence written on the page, in big, clear handwriting.
Am I a bad person?
Elle stared at it, then quickly crossed it out. No, of course not.That was not the message. She was not a bad person.
But her brain kept going over and over the look on Liz's face, and the kiss, and the feeling in her gut.
She thought she was a generous person, always defending people, telling people how wonderful they were, how they deserved love and happiness and a chance to be who they wanted to be. She thought she was someone who thought people should be able to choose how they lived their lives without other people judging them for it.
She thought she believed all those things.So what was she if this was how she was feeling?
Her eyes were burning, and she quickly blinked away tears, not wanting to cry in class. Crying in class was messy and inconvenient, and it made people ask questions.
By second period, she was ready to leave.
She walked straight to the nurse's office, and the nurse looked up when she walked in. "Elle? Are you okay?" That was almost enough to undo her. Almost enough to make her stop pretending that she was okay.
She gave the nurse a bright, artificial smile, the kind that Elle Woods was known for.
"I'm just not feeling very well." It wasn't a lie. She wasn't feeling very well. She felt like her entire world view was wrong.
The nurse studied her for a moment, but eventually she sighed and allowed her to go home.
Elle walked outside into the rain. It was like the universe was mocking her.
The rain soaked into her hair and her clothes, and she would have hated it, normally.
She would have hated the way her pink coat was ruined, but today she barely noticed.
She stood by the old phone booth on the edge of the school grounds, staring at the rain falling on the street, her fingers shaking slightly as she dialed the number she knew by heart.
There was only one person who could help her right now. Her mother. The phone rung once, twice, three times.
"Hello?"
That was all it took, and Elle's whole world caved in around her. "Mom."
Her voice sounded small, not like Elle Woods, not like the confident girl who walked into every room she entered, but more like the little child she used to be. Her mother immediately understood.
"Oh, sweetheart. What happened?"
And suddenly Elle was crying. "I think something is wrong with me," she whispered.
There was a pause, and a concerned silence. "Elle."
"No, Mom, listen to me." She wiped her eyes, but the rain made it hard to tell if the tears were real or not. "I think I'm a horrible person."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I saw Liz and Kimberly."
Her mother was silent.
"They were together, Mom. They were like really together, and I should have been happy for them, I really should have, because I wanted them to be together, I sat in detention thinking about how much they deserved to be together." Her voice cracked.
"But when I saw them, I felt sick."
She pressed a hand to her stomach.
“I felt sick, Mom.” The words came out like an accusation, as if she was blaming herself.
"And then I thought, oh my God, am I homophobic? Because what else could it be? I love people, I love everyone, I don't care who they love, I don't, I swear I don't!"
Her mom's voice was gentle."Elle."
"But why did I feel that way?" The question broke her."Why did my stomach turn?"
She looked down at the rain soaked pavement. "Liz is my friend. She's my best friend, and Kimberly was really mean to me, but she's not anymore, she's amazing, and she makes Liz happy, and I can see that, and I'm really happy for them." She swallowed. "I'm scared, Mom."
The rain was coming down harder.
"I'm scared that I'm not the person I thought I was."
For a moment, there was only the sound of the rain, and the sound of her mother's breathing on the other end of the line. Then her mother spoke, her voice gentle.
"Oh, Elle. You are allowed to have feelings before you understand them."
Elle closed her eyes.
"But what if the feeling is bad?"
"Feelings are not always the same thing as beliefs."
Elle didn't answer, because she wanted to believe that. She really did.
"You have spent your whole life caring about people," her mother said softly. "You don't suddenly become someone else because you had one painful reaction you don't understand."
Elle sniffed. "But why was it painful?"
"That's something you have to figure out."
Elle hated that answer. She hated that her mother was giving her that answer. She wanted something else. She wanted her mother to tell her, No, Elle, you are definitely not this thing you're afraid of being.
But instead her mother gave her something else.
"Are you upset because Liz is with Kimberly?" her mother asked.
Elle opened her eyes. "I don't know." That was the most honest answer she could give. "I don't know."
"i'll be there", her mother said and hung up the phone. Elle just stood there in the rain, feeling the drops on her face, waiting.
--
A car horn honked nearby, and Elle looked up to see her mother's car pulling up to the curb.
Elle hurried over and climbed into the car, wrapping herself up in the warmth of the vehicle, and her mother's arms around her.
Elle cried again, but this time she didn't feel like such a disaster.
"I really hope I'm still a good person," she whispered. Her mother kissed the top of her head.
"Elle Woods," she said softly, "you worrying this much about being a good person is usually a pretty good sign that you are one."
Elle gave a small, broken laugh.
Even crying, even confused, even sitting in her wet pink coat in the passenger seat of her mother's car, she was still Elle. She just didn't know what that meant, and maybe that was okay.
Maybe not everything had to be put into a little box with a pretty label and a neat bow, even by Elle Woods.