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Yearning for Our Unicity	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 64 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
Summary:
Mutual pining at its purest form, with some delusional attitude here and there.
Notes:
Setting: episode 5x4 right before the Inauguration. So yeah, it could be another missing scene.
Prompt: Stuck or lost together

Just as friends

Joe’s POV

To be honest, since yesterday we bought half of the stands at the books estate sale, I was sure we had enough stuff for the opening event tomorrow night.
But nope, you’ve stayed up all night doing some researches, probably to take your mind off that bad so-called literary salon experience and I really hate that I couldn’t stay, cheering you up, because I’m stuck in an already dying fucking marriage.

So, when this morning you showed up, talking about this not to be missed other books estate sale, I just had to bring you there.
Who am I kidding?
I was just hoping for an excuse -any- to spend some time alone with you; since at Mooney’s there’s always some curious passerby who gets in the way.
So what’s better than a nice little trip in my car?
This estate sale is also a tad farer than last time, which means more time to spend with you.
And I couldn’t be happier, because last night changed everything; Bronte, now I see you clearly for who you are…

“Well, if you decided to be so uncommunicative, I might as well put on some music!” You interrupt my thoughts, searching through the radio stations.

“Huh, my bad, I was just too concentrated on the road, I promise I’ll be more chatty.” I smile at you.

However, you picked a song I like as well, this proves just how connected we are.

“I guess you’re so concentrated on the road, because you are not used to these streets…”

“I know what you’re hinting, Missy, and if you don’t quit with this rich-guy-not-knowing-how-the-real-world-is bullshit, I swear I’ll stop the car here in the middle of 96th street and I’ll get you out of the car!”

I. Would. Never.

You startle.

“Huh, nope, sorry, I was just saying…”

“You know, I used to live in Bed-Stuy, so compared to that going to Mott Haven is like a trip to Beverly Hills!”

“Okay, you made your point.” You giggle. “No more teasing you about that, I promise.”

“Why don’t you tell me about Ohio? That’s a place I’ve never been in for real…”

“Really?” You tilt your head.

“Really. And I wouldn't mind visiting it, with you… you know, just as friends.”

Well done, Joe, just keep repeating this huge lie to yourself until you’ll finally believe it, maybe.

Bronte’s POV

Well, you asked me about Ohio and I tell you every possible thing, from my childhood to high school years, to what brought me here.
Oh well, just the made up Bohemian part.
I just choose not to talk about my mother’s disease.
It’s not the most proper topic during a care-free ride with the car.

However, Joe, I guess I understood what you did. And mostly what you didn’t.
You didn’t ask me about last night.
You know how upset I was and you chose not to reopen the wound.
Although my humiliation was just a charade, in order to become your wounded little bird; your concern was so true that it almost made me cry.
You cheered me up, you listened to me, you showed me that you care.

If you think I spent the night crying you’re right, but not for the reasons you imagine.
I’ve cried because I feel like I’m hurting you and you don’t deserve it.
I’ve cried because my friends are becoming too pushy.
That’s why I talked you into going to this estate sale; because I needed us to spend some time alone, even if just as friends,I needed an escape from reality, from what 's going to happen, starting from tomorrow on.
I’ve cried because I no longer see clearly the boundaries between going on with this mission and making room for true feelings that are surfacing.

By the time I finish talking about the Ohio stuff, we’ve arrived.

Joe’s POV

The moment we set foot in what seems to be an abandoned warehouse, I sort of lose sight of you, instantly.
This place is huge and in every corner there are books that catch my attention.
Although there are only a few people around, this place is dispersive.

"Come here, Joe!"
I follow the direction your voice came from and there you are, kneeling down on a shelf, fumbling through some books.

"Have you ever seen this edition of 'Night and day' by Virginia Woolf?" You grin at me.

I smile at you and took the precious book from your hands - also the perfect occasion to skim your skin- to examine it better.

No, I haven't and yes, I'm very interested.

"Nice pick, my brilliant employee." I praise you.

Just like before, when I took a glimpse of very intriguing books of Hemingway, Joyce, Alexandre Dumas, Thomas Elliot...

This place is a gold mine.
Too bad I don't have all day to stay here.
I have some plans for the afternoon.
Plans involving a demon to defeat.
Like you would love to say, Bronte, I have to beast out.

I see from afar an old man who strikes me to be the owner of this place and I'm not wrong.

"Excuse me, do you keep it open all day?"

"Yes, Sir, save from my lunch break, from Midday to 2:00 p.m."

I nod.
It's past 10:00 a.m., so this leaves us enough time to wander around.
By the time I go back to the Virgina Woolf spot, you've already disappeared.
Then you call me from another spot, and you go on like this for a while, in every section of the warehouse.
You seem like a flipped out pixie, so much thrilled all over this.
It's one of the things I love about you.

I find you just in the most predictable place.
"Well, of course I had to be between my namesakes!" You chuckle, holding both a copy of ‘Jane Eyre’ and one of ‘Wuthering Heights’.

“Yeah, of course, yours namesakes!” I pretend to roll my eyes, but I’m amused.
You add the books to the pile I’m already holding and, here we go, I lose sight of you once more.

I wander longer than usual, also because you keep silent, until finally I hear you.

“Oh my god, Joooeeee, you have no idea what I found, yayyy!” You cheer.

But there’s something different.
Your voice sounds muffled.

I follow the direction anyway and finally I find out the reason: you went inside a sort of storage room.
I even doubt it’s open to customers.

“Bronte, what the hell are you doing?”

“Here there’s something about Jane Austen, too! And I don’t mean her most loved works, such as ‘Pride and Prejudice’, ‘Sense and Sensibility’ or ‘Emma’...”

"Whatever it is, it doesn’t justify why you are in a spot that’s not even a stand.” I let you notice, reaching you inside.

“See? This proves exactly my point. This is my favourite Austen romance ever.” You explain, holding to your chest a first edition of ‘Northanger Abbey’. “And it doesn’t even get to be on a stand, like the other books.” You protest.

“I’m sure there must be an explanation and maybe this book is here by distraction. Or maybe it’s not even on sale.” I try to steal the book from your hands, but you wisely back off.

“Well, now it is!”

Stubborn girl.

I walk closer, now I’ve got you trapped between the wall and me.

I’m about to convince you to drop the book and follow me outside, when we both hear a noise, like a metal click.
And everything goes dark.

We immediately switch on the torch of our mobiles.
After all, there’s no signal here, it’s the only useful thing they can do.

“Joe?”

I gulp.
I have a bad feeling and I don't want to glance at my watch, but I do.
It’s five minutes past Midday.

“Joe?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.
How the hell did time fly so fast?

“Hey, Joe?” You raise your voice.

Not that I hadn’t heard you before.

“What happened?” You ask me once I look back at you.

“I guess the owner of this place just went on his lunch break, didn’t see us because we were here and not across the stands like the other people… so now we’re stuck here, until he goes back.” I explain to you.

Wait a minute. I’m not seeing things from the right perspective.

I get to spend two hours so close to you, trapped in this narrow, unlit storage room.

Is it Christmas maybe, by any chance?

Bronte’s POV

What the fuck just happened?
Here's what I deserve for trying to isolate you from my friend 's sight.
There's not even cameras here, like the one I put in the apartment.
But the real question is... is it really fear what I'm feeling now?
So close to you, no one else around... and your gaze looks so warm and reassuring.
Shit, Louise, hurry up to say something before Joe questions your silence.

"Huh. Oh. I'm sorry. I've just realized I'm still blocking you." You back off.

Looks like you spoke before I did.
"So, are we really trapped here?" I decide to speak.
"Yes, for at least two hours, I spoke to that man before, so I know how long his breaks last."

"And you're not... mad at me?" I question you, with a slight concern in my tone.

You just smile at me and shake your head.

"This is what I get for chasing a way too thrilled pixie!" You make me smile.

You gently place your index under my chin, pulling my face up.

"You're never guilty of anything, Bronte, Louise." You murmur.

Oh, Joe. If only you knew how wrong you are.

I'm so tempted to lean just a bit closer, enough to skim your lips... and judging by the way you're looking at me it almost seems you're thinking the same.

But we're not supposed to do this, we should act just as friends.

You seem to become aware of what's about to happen.

"Well, there's already so little space, surely you don't want me to stay so close..." you babble, walking until you reach the locked door.

Nope, Joe, I didn't mind the closeness with you at all.

There's so much awkward tension that I must do something about it.
Think, Louise, think.

I glance at the book I've found here.
Books are always my way out.

"In a certain way this is fun."

You turn abruptly, questioning me with your look.

“Do you really think so?”

“Yeah, because this is a situation Catherine from the book would love!”

“Tell me more about it.” You urge me.

“Well, Catherine spent a lot of time reading gothic and suspense novels, because she loved the thrill, she enjoyed being scared. She always dreamed about the dangerous situations she could get into.”

“Uhmm… she reminds me of someone.” You chuckle.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you noticed! It’s true, I saw a lot of myself inside those pages, especially in her character. The way she falls for the noble young Mr. Tinley, so quiet, reserved, mysterious. Hands down it’s love at first sight between them, but things are not easy. Her friends and a member of his family get in the way…”

Oh wait, I know something about friends getting in the way.

And then you touch my hand, more like the slightest touch ever, but it’s enough to make me feel a shake.

“Will they get their happy ending?” You wonder, your eyes piercing mine.

Are we still talking about the book?

No, no, no, Luoise, don’t get there, we both need a distraction.

“Wait, are you telling me you haven’t ever read ‘Northanger Abbey’?’”

“Well, yes, but it was ages ago… I might need a refresh.” You grumble.

“You have never read it!” I giggle, grabbing the book and sitting down. “C’mon, let’s fix it!”

“Uh?” You look at me, puzzled.

“Well, we have more or less two hours to spend here… do you have a better idea?” I pat the empty space next to me.

You think about it for a while, then chuckle, shrug and sit down.

“Be warned: I’m a very fast reader.” You warn me, opening the book to the first chapter.

“And I know it by heart.” I struck back.

And here we go, reading and teasing each other.

Just as friends.

--

THE END
Notes:
OMG I could just implode thinking of them stuck in a room reading together!! *O*
However, truth must be said: actually ‘Northanger Abbey’ is *my* fave Austen’s book, but, really, it didn’t seem so OOC to me that Bronte could like a character like Catherine Morland.
The good thing about no one leaving comments (BOT scammers are NOT comments and I'm deleting every of them) is that you can’t even reply that I’m wrong, LOL.
Spoiler not spoiler: whether you enjoyed it or not, this one shot will have a little sequel, actually the prompt I have to face right now.
Another spoiler not spoiler: see ya tomorrow, where the smut will be back.
- 13
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Yearning for Our Unicity

Summary:

Notes:

Notes: