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Yearning for Our Unicity	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 185 -:- 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
- 22
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Summary:
Joe wants to cheer Bronte up
Notes:
Setting: between 5x3 and 5x4, it’s an alternative to the ‘Can’t feel like a date’ one shot.
Prompt: Group hug

Buy self-confidence

Joe’s POV

I can’t take my mind off the pages you’ve let me read this early morning, Bronte, when we opened Mooney’s.

They were so good, so intense, but don’t think I didn’t notice how upset you still were.

How the only thought of facing another crowd terrifies you.

That’s why I have to do something about it.

That’s why I left Mooney’s with an excuse and jumped in my car.

One of my things is that I have a photographic memory.

That’s why it doesn’t take me long to reach that dirtbag literary salon of the night before.

I also know how to make the right phone calls and a quarter later I’m speaking with the owner of the place.
A woman around her fifties who seems more interested in refurbishing herself, rather than applying improvements to this place.

And after the pleasantries, it’s time to make my plan start.

“So, is it here where you allow the young authors wannabe to meet and read their writings?”

“Yes, it seems a nice way to create aggregation, through a common passion. It’s so good to see them encourage and support each other.”

The only thing more annoying than her frantic gesticulating is all the fucking golden bracelets she wears that rattle every time she does that.

But this doesn’t take my mind off to what she’s babbling about.

Encouragement? Support? Where the hell was she when yesterday night those fucking authors wannabe were humiliating the hell out of you, Bronte?
But don’t worry, I’m here to fix it.

“And all these good vibrations reach their climax during the final group hug.” The woman explains.

Wait. What?

“Group hug?” I repeat, my attention renewed.

“Yes. At the end of every meeting, all the people here, no matter if active readers or simple audience, share a five minute group hug, it’s something good to let the positive energies flow in the right way.”

I don’t give a damn to all this Zen bullshit, I’m just interested in the group hug.
Five minutes.
A perfect excuse of three hundred seconds to stay so close to you.

And yesterday we missed this, because they made you run away, all upset.
Now I have one more reason to go on with my plan.

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s a very nice idea. So, how often do you organize these events?”

“Once a month, but I wish there could be more.”

“So do I. Organize one for tonight.” I suggest it to the woman.

Actually, I’m ordering her to do that, but she doesn’t know it yet.

“What? It’s impossible, it’s too soon, with so much little time, there’s no way I…”

“There’s always a way.” I insist. “And we live in the social media era, it’s very easy to spread news.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but…”

Okay, it’s time to draw out the check.

“I’m sure this will help you clear your mind.”

When she opens the little folded paper she gasps.

I know, after all, it’s not everyday you get to receive ten thousand dollars.

And I just hope she’ll invest them in this place, not in another plastic surgery.

And it’s not a sum that would make Kate suspicious; she knows I purchase a lot when it’s a matter of literature and she’s fine with that.

The woman frowns.

“Who are you?”

Finally the question I expected since she shook my hand.

“Let’s just say I’m a very generous donor who prefers to remain anonymous.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, Sir.”

“I beg to differ, you do know how to thank me. So, do we have a deal?”

“We do.” She nods.

Money is always the way.

“Just another thing; you should remove someone from the list of the people who will receive your invitations…”

We don’t need your stupid, fucking, sorry excuses for friends to be here for sure, and about you… it must be a surprise.

-----------------------------

Bronte’s POV

It's always good to see you popping out to Mooney's, also because we're about to close; which means I haven't seen you since this morning.

You read my new pages, filled me with lots of compliments.... and immediately after you ran away.

Aren't those a bit contrasting messages to send me, Joe?

"I have the feeling we do not have enough books yet for the inauguration of tomorrow and I need your good taste."

Oohh, so I have a good taste!

"Come with me."

"Sure. Just let me take my jacket."

“Once you’re ready, just wait for me outside.”

I do as you told me and shortly after you reach me, leading me to the car.

The more you drive, the more I have the weird feeling that I already know these streets.

I’m afraid I know where they lead to.

“Joe, you can tell me, we're not about to buy books, right?”

“We’re about to buy self-confidence,” you reply, stopping the car. “More specifically, yours. Again.”

You parked a few blocks from the literary salon; because you know I don’t like to be spotted there with a car.

As we walk towards there I just wonder what’s the point.

I mean, sure, it’s not a place I’m dying to go to, but, I mean, it’s closed, it’s not that…

What the fuck?

Why is this salon already operative? It’s not that it’s been a month since the last event, it was yesterday!
And the place has never looked so crowded…
What the hell is going on?

“Well, well, looks like I’m not the only shusher around here…” You interrupt my thoughts.

“Joe, the-there can’t be another ev-event so soon…” I babble, puzzled and scared.

“I know, but I couldn't wait for a whole month.”

“What the hell does it mean that you couldn’t wait? Joe, what did you do?”I hold my head in my hands.

I’m so confused.

“I did what I had to do.”

“Are you telling me that the reason why there’s another play reading event in such a short time… is you?”

You nod.

“Let’s say me… and my very skillful persuasive arts.” You smirk.

“But… why?”

“Now stop with the questions and follow me inside.” You urge me, but in a gentle way, with a gentle tone, and you also grab my hand.

Once we’re inside, my living hell starts.

“Oh, look who’s not drowned into sperm and is still around..” One of the girls at the counter makes fun of me.

“Well, that’s sure that you haven’t drowned in empathy or good manners!” I hiss at her, and then I see that you’re smiling at me in approval.

It’s not the only rude, unpleasant person I have to deal with.

“Joe, please, can we go away?” I plead with you.

“No way, Bronte, this is the path to cross to buy self-confidence again.” You insist.

“Fuck Joe, I won’t buy anything, I’ll just end up losing the few dignity I left with!”

“At least you didn’t run away the moment we stepped inside here, it’s already something.” You smile at me, reassuringly.

“Okay, but to stay here I guess I’ll need some alcohol.”

“That’s allowed to you. Just don’t take too much. Later you’re going to read.” You say, drawing something out the inside pocket of your coat: the pages I gave you this morning.

If I had already taken a bottle I would have made it crash on the floor.

“WHAT!?” I can’t help yelling. “Joe, there’s no way I’m gonna do it!”

“What if someone would read a pièce that is extra cheesy, gross, grotesque, kinky, twisted… would that make you feel better?” You ask me.

“Yeah, I think so…” I shrug.

Although I don’t think something like that is ever going to happen.

I mean, who could do worse than I did yesterday?

Planned or not, it just sucked.

“Good. Say no more. And you’d better stay sober to enjoy it better.”

Enjoy what?
What are you going to do?

You don’t even give me the time to ask you, as you walk towards the stage.

Joe’s POV

I loved you even more, if possible, Bronte, before, when you dealt with every wannabe author here who dared to insult you

That’s my warrior, who doesn’t let anyone walk all over her.

But I know it’s not enough, you need an incentive more and that’s what I’m going to give you.

Even if the price to pay is public humiliation.

Well, not exactly mine as Joe Goldberg, Kate Lockwood’s Prince Charming husband, since here, thanking my lucky stars, no one seems to know me or recognize me.
Probably my casual outfit helps, I would even wear my cap but maybe it would be too much.
It will be just the public humiliation of an author wannabe among the others.

“Good evening, everyone.” I speak to the open mic, once I reached the stage. “I know that the rule to be here is to share our plays, so I’m going to read you one of mine.” I draw my sheet out, as the crowd incites me, clapping their hands.

But that won’t last for long.

As I start reading the crowd falls in a cold silence and everyone’s attention is on me.
In the worst, most disturbed possible way.
Exactly what I wanted.

Once I’m done I leave the stage among boos, derisions, people pointing at me and laughing.

Breath, Joe. Inhale, deeply, Exhale, deeply.

You can’t kill them all. Actually you can’t kill anyone.
This was supposed to happen.

And then you run towards me, with that light in your eyes that’s sparkling again, and the rest of the world doesn’t matter anymore.

“Tell me you haven’t just read about succubus, demonic possession, tentacles and… orgies?”

You sound too amused to remain serious.

“Hell yeah. And I’ll tell you more. You have no idea how many times I rewrote that, because despite all my efforts it kept sounding so damn good!”

“Oh, shut up!” You push me away, playfully, but the most important thing is that you’re finally laughing again and this is the most beautiful sound in the universe.

“So now do you feel like going there and reading your play?” I ask you.

“Hell yeah, compared to what you just read, my piece yesterday was a Pulitzer Prize winner.” You make me laugh, but then you stare at me oh so intensely, with your impossibly blue eyes almost teary. “What you did for me, tonight… thank you, Joe, I won’t ever forget it.”

Oh, Bronte.
I would do anything for you.
I would kill for you.
Maybe I’d better not say it outloud.

You reach the stage, you read your stuff … and this time it’s a more than deserved success.

I’m also clapping my hands at you, very proudly.

But you don’t seem to be done yet.

“See the very big difference? For those who maybe weren’t there, yesterday my so-called friends stole a draft of mine and read it in front of everyone. So I dare you all to take something you wrote in a rush, in the heat of the moment, without even thinking lucidly, without even barely editing and have the guts to share it with a crowd. The guy before me hands down had lots of guts and I guess he deserves an ovation only for that!”

And then you leave the stage, while everybody is busy cheering for… me.

It looks like you did something very nice for me, too, Bronte.

“The guy before you is extremely proud of you.” I steal a smile from you, the moment you reach me.

And then we spend the rest of the night listening to the authors who accepted your challenge and displayed the awful drafts they wrote.

And when even the last author is done, it’s time for the moment I crave the most.

The owner of the place gathers everyone at the centre of the club and lets the group hug start.

I don’t give a damn to whoever is next to me on my right side, because you’re next to me on my left side.
My arm is wrapped around your shoulders and you’re doing the same.
It’s not my imagination, you’re holding tight.
And all I can feel is warmth.

Bronte’s POV

It’ s so nice to feel you so close to me

I wish this moment could never end, that’s why I’m going to treasure all these five minutes.

I still can’t believe what you did tonight, all the public humiliation you were ready to face, just to increase my self-esteem.

And yeah, I might have even agreed with my friends about all the degrading scenarios that took place here, yesterday, but the people around didn’t know that, so the humiliation was somehow real, it hurt me for real.

And you, just a proper white knight in shining armour - okay, more like in a cashmere coat- fought and defeated all my sadness.

This is not something you would do for everyone.
We can't deny it, Joe, I can feel it.
We’re growing closer, day after day.
And maybe you’ve started to feel for me what I have already started to feel for you.

And what is my way to thank you?
If only I think about what still has to happen…

Oh, Joe, if only we could do something extra crazy, just run away, you, me and Henry - I know that lovely kid is everything to you - , start a new life, nowhere to be found, happy forever.

But I know it’s not possible.
I know that I must stick to the plan, I know what’s going to happen tomorrow, during the inauguration, I know how you will react.
I know that the closer you get to me, the more risky it becomes for you.

I can try to stop my friends, but I know how stubborn they can be.
And I have to be part of this.
Not to betray them, I’ll have to betray you.

As the last minutes of the group hug go on, I hold you tighter, too afraid that I’m gonna lose you soon.

But I’m gonna make a promise to ourselves, Joe.
You helped me to buy self-confidence tonight; so I’m going to buy forgiveness.
Yours.
No matter what.

--

THE END
Notes:
As I’m doing Flufftober, it looks like Joe did Kinktober in this one shot, LOL!
So which alternative did you prefer, this with the new event or the one with the lesson on the boat? ;P
See ya tomorrow
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Yearning for Our Unicity

Summary:

Notes:

Notes: