elle knew she was fucked.

she had been held hostage, shot, traumatized, and faced countless other horrors during her years at the bau. but nothing compared to the agony of her crush on you.

there was absolutely nothing wrong with you. your smile could light up a room, and your confidence made her feel better by association. but when she realized that her feelings for you were more than just admiration, she started to confront some uncomfortable truths about herself.

she had a crush on a girl—and she was a girl. did that make her a lesbian? she wasn’t particularly fond of labels, but it didn’t add up. she could flirt with men, find them attractive, and be romantically interested in them. could she do the same with both?

there was something daunting about admitting she liked girls. it wasn’t that she cared what others thought; it was about accepting it herself. the truth was, she liked girls.