Emily explains, very wonderfully, the Coming Out Thing, which is that big changes all look like the Apocalypse from one side, with just awful things on the other side, until you actually get there and then it's not only pretty great, but also you don't have giant secrets hanging over your head making you feel gross inside.
Change feels like dying because it is, but if Alison taught us anything it's that we sometimes need an Angel of Disclosure to get you through the parts you're too weak to do yourself. You're allowed to be afraid, there is in fact an entire system set in place specifically to make you afraid, but once you get the courage to step through the door, everything changes. You're out of the Game, and you realize pretty much the only rule of the Game is shaming you into staying in the Game. Because if everybody stopped playing the Game at once, nobody could ever tell us what to do again.
They sit down on the window seat and Emily laughs at the at least two different ironies here: Number one, when she tried to find the Perfect Guy, it was somebody like Paige: Somebody funny and brave, that would pull her up onstage and get her to sing, because she knows she'd never do that on her own. But the second irony, which she doesn't get to explain, is that she's doing that for Paige just by existing. And it's this second irony that brings Paige in for the kiss, there on the window seat.
(And it's a third irony in the way the camera zooms in super tight on their hands while they're kissing -- after the three seconds or whatever that's allowable on TV -- because we're all still playing the Game. It's my belief, or at least hope, that this pan and shot were created to be so specifically jarring just so you would ask, "What's with the hands? Is this romantic? Am I being censored from seeing girls kiss? I bet it's that one. Same-sex kisses are still an Event because we are not quite yet the Future. 2011, where is my flying gay-married car?")