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Ezra and Ella	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 362 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Summary:
Bronte's plan is fully revealed (in case you havent' figured out yet)
Notes:
Sorry for the late, but writing this chapter wasn’t easy at all.
Not after all I got for the previous chapter on ao3 was just a very, VERY disheartening bot hate comment.
So I was torn between just keeping this to myself and never update anymore and going on.
I chose the second thing, just because I think that if there’s someone who loves this ship even half the way I do, maybe they would be happy to find something about this pairing, as I would be.
And there could be even something new, coming sooner or later.
So, bear with me, or just skip this fic if it’s not your cup of tea ;P

Chapter V: Still not ready

Joe’s POV

I’m going to push my luck.
I lean over you, ready to kiss you another, long, remarkable time, but all my lips meet is your hand, pushing me away, although gently.

“Nope, Joe, please.” You murmur, so soft I almost have some difficulty hearing you. “Before it was just an exception; a beautiful, remarkable exception.” You smile at me, your voice gains more volume and, wait, did you just use my very same word, among tons of millions other ones?

We really are soulmates!

“But if we did it again now, I guess it would be a mistake. We can’t break the building trust rule again.” You explain, backing off for good measures. “Sexy physical contact between us should be not a starting point, but a reward.”

“I promise I’m going to really work hard to reach such a reward.” I caress you, only with my gaze.

“I know and I’ll do the same.” You nod. “For now, I suggest you take a shower, possibly cold, to fight some instincts!”

“Care to join me in the shower?” I smirk and raise my eyebrow in the sexiest way possible.

“What part of ‘not a starting point’ wasn’t clear?” You’re practically pushing me towards the bathroom in the least sexy way possible.

“You’ll thank me when you find some new clothes in the closet ,” you inform me. “You’re so skinny that it’s very easy to figure out your size.”

“Let’s just say that prison didn’t help me to increase my muscle mass,” I babble, feeling uncomfortable.

“I’m not saying this is a bad thing!” You wink at me, before walking away.

You’re back to your flirty mood and this gives me new hope.

I take off this red jumpsuit that I hate and probably I’ll burn it later and enter the large shower, so comfy.

I turn on both the faucets until I get the perfect balance between hot and cold.

The hell with the fast, icy showers I got in prison, this is life!

I let the pleasant water wash away not only the dirt of the day, but also the loneliness, the apathy and the negative vibes of all these months.

I’m a new man, I’ve been given a second chance and I feel changed. This new man is going to win you back, Bronte, but in an honest way.
No cheating, no gaslighting, no manipulation, no threats.
I don’t care if it happens in two days or in two years, I’m going to take all the time we need to make things right.
To make each other happy.
To live the life we deserve.
Well, not that a wanted escapee who must hide from the whole world has much to offer to you, but still…
As an improved, better version of me, I won’t fall back into old habits.
I’m not gonna wank, thinking about you reaching me here, all naked and ready for me.
I’m not gonna think about you bending down, parting your soft, warm lips and…
Okay, I’m going to, but for a shorter time than usual.
Like a proper improved man.

Once I’m done and satisfied, I wash myself again, then I dry, ready to get dressed.
I stare at the mirror wearing blue jeans and a black shirt and I do like what I see.

What I like much less is when I catch a glimpse of you glancing at your mobile, hidden from me, or at least thinking you’re hiding.

This brings me back to the times I was with Candace, our first fights; and then Beck, when she invented her Fox female friend, that fucking, shameless liar!
That awful sensation when someone is keeping something from me, the oh so furtive acting, the lies, the cheating.
So… history repeating itself.

Maybe it’s that Paul -without-a-fucking-surname guy, maybe you changed your mind about him, or he wrote to you again and you…

“Hey!” You tear me away from my paranoia, shaking my shoulder. “Are you already back to your old bad habits, when you go to Silentland and your mind floods you with all the bad pondering?”

It’s like you can read inside me, Bronte.

“I don’t wear a watch, in case you didn’t notice, and there is none hanging on the wall either. Believe me or not, but I was just checking what time it is.” You explain to me and you sound so sincere I just have to hate myself just for what I thought.

“And why are you so worried about what time it is?” I can’t help inquiring.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but since you have been in that shower for a lifetime, maybe now it’s time, let’s see…” You turn the TV on, gesturing to me to sit on the sofa, near you.

“Hey! It’s not true I’ve spent a lifetime there; you have no idea how unpleasant showers in jail were and…”

“I understand, don’t worry. And it’s nice to see you in a no-more-detainee outfit.” You smirk.

Are you flirting again? Did you just pay me a compliment?

“Thank you. And, no matter what you wear, Bronte, you’re always beau…”

“Hush, maybe there’s already something!” You hiss, tuning on the news channel.

“Oh, so are we gonna watch the news about my prison break? Cool.” I smile, eager to see.

// “There’s an update about the breaking news of the serial killer Joe Goldberg, which happened this morning, thanks to a fake application for transfer…”//

I cringe, hearing that ‘serial killer’ associated with my name. I'm still not used to being called that, although I can’t deny it’s what I am.
More than twenty people killed on my list should be a good reason to define me like that.

“You surely don’t want to miss this!” You grin, turning the volume up, as the journalist goes on speaking.

//”As soon as the ADX Florence, aka the new Correctional Facility where Goldberg was supposed to be headed to, gave the alarm, revealing it wasn’t true, the police took action. This made a real manhunt start, the fake prisoner transporter vehicle has been chased by several police squads, on land and by air. It was a helicopter that tracked down the indicted vehicle.”//

“You’ve turned it into a real crime movie!” I chuckle, amused.

“Don’t miss the best part!” You wink at me and I pay attention to the news again.

//”Latest news confirms that the escape ended in tragedy.” //

Wait. What?!

//”After that wild chase by the police, the fake prisoner transport vehicle lost control and crashed into the guardrail and beyond, close to the 72th Bridge at Jersey Shore Route. The vehicle crashed into the sea and now it’s nowhere to be seen. Only the driver survived, jumping off the vehicle before it was too late and running away from the police, he’s nowhere to be found. However, there’s not the slightest possibility Goldberg and his complicits, the fake guards, survived that harsh impact.” //

So, now am I dead to the whole world? Again?

“You.” I turn to you, utter thankfulness in my eyes, while your blue oceans are sparkling with pride. “Brilliant genius!”

I would like to hug and kiss you, and mostly make love to you but you made the rules.

“I know, I know. Not to mention that there was a reason if I chose that exact point for the crash. It’s just a few miles from the Bermuda Triangle. No one will ever find that vehicle and who’s supposed to be inside.” You grin. “And look, they also have some images, probably the helicopter shot the scene.”

We stare together at the screen where we can clearly see the fake prisoner transporter vehicle dive into the Atlantic Ocean, right before the driver jumps out of it in a very athletic way.

“He’s a professional stuntman.” You explain to me, anticipating my question. “Another of the guys I had to … motivate.” And saying that you make the gesture of money.

You are amazing.

And here we go with my second fake death.
No need to say this one is a lot less painful.
No chopped parts of my body, no creepy toe pies to bake, no goodbye-world letters to write.

You’re still not ready to hear the real ending of my story with Love, in Madre Linda.
Well, you already know what I did to Beck and yet you wanted me back in your life.
Probably one day you’ll be ready for this truth, and for many others, as well.

Bronte’s POV

If only you could have seen your own face the moment you saw the news on the screen!

You look so amazed, happy and relieved.

And thanks to me… basically the main cause of your imprisonment.

I’ve rescued someone who probably took more lives than acknowledged.

You have even admitted it, before, during the game, that you had every intention to kill me.

If I was in my right mind, I’d run away and hide from you forever. Nope, in the first place, I would have left you rotting in jail.
But the truth is that I’m not in my right mind anymore. I lost it that night in the cage with you.

I thought I had got my rationality back after meeting Marianne, but it was only temporary.

I was so afraid of you, Joe, you had scared the hell out of me.
The memories of you, running from the woods haunted my nightmares.
Then, bit by bit, the nightmares turned into something more like a dream.
I sort of craved the moment you would haunt my dreams.
And one unexpected night I’ve dreamed of that: you still ran towards me, but you were not angry anymore, you just wanted to save me, save me from my dull life with Paul. And you killed him. In front of me, with an evil sneer.
And I thanked you for that. With a big smile, before walking towards you, I hugged and kissed you and you laid me down on the wet grass, you slowly crawled over me, you stripped me down and...
And then I woke up with a startle.
Relieved, of course, because sleeping Paul was still alive, beside me, but I was creeped out by what my mind had just devised.
It was sending me a clear message: there was something unresolved between us.
That’s when I decided I had to do something about it.
And now that you’re with me again, how far am I willing to go for you?
Maybe one day I will tell you about this dream, but not now, I’m still not ready and I don’t want to galvanize you way too much.
Especially after more than two years of abstinence from killing.

I jump off my train of thought just in time for the news to be done - lucky for me, they shot the downfall of the vehicle from every perspective and you didn’t miss any of them - and I can anticipate your question about the driver.

“So, today it’s 28th June, we’ll have to remember this day.” I state.

“Freedom Day?” You dare to guess.

“More like happy Deathday!”

“Oh no, please, don’t wish me happy Deathday next year, it sounds super cringy!” You laugh.

“Okay, tell me when it’s your birthday, then; so I’ll have something worthy to keep in mind.”

“My birthday falls on the first of November.” You reveal.

“So, you were born right after the scariest day of the year. Well, it fits you to a T.” I make little fun of you, only because I know you’re in the right mood.

“Did you prefer 31st October, just like Voldemort? That’ll be a little too clichè.” You laugh.

“Well, you did cast more than one Avada Kedavra!” I make you laugh even more.

“But let’s get to you, Muggle,”

“Muggle!?” I echo you, disappointment evident in my tone.

“Just kidding, my dear Ravenclaw.”

Oh.

“How did you know it’s my House?”

You smirk enigmatically.

“Who knows? Maybe I used Legilimens!” You click your tongue. “No, ok, pure intuition. So, when is it your birthday?”

I can’t resist challenging you.

“Find out on your own, you, Slytherin stalker!”

You laugh again and I have flashbacks of us, sharing a bed, while I read your stuff and teased you about tropes.
Then you pretended to sound insulted, right before starting a tickle fight… that brought us to make sweet, sweet love.
I’m sure those times will be back, Joe.
We are still not ready now, but we will be.

“Oh, c’mon, not even a little cue?” You insist.

“Let’s say that my sign stings just like yours, my dear Scorpio!”

“Ooohh, you’re a Cancer!” You grin, happy for the discovery. “Okay, Summer girl, it means that I’ll wish you happy birthday from the very first day of your sign to the last one, I’m going to pick up the right one for sure.”

Aww, sweet.

“Oooh, I like this. And, tell me, can I also get a gift for every day you think it could be my birthday?” I tease you.

“Not that right now I’m capable of going out and buying nice things for you, but you’d deserve a gift for every day of your life.”

The way you look at me. Again. The things you’re capable of saying. And meaning them.
Oh, Joe, you have no idea how dangerous you are.
And I should hate myself, because this is turning me on so bad.

“Oh shut up, you, smooth talker. We’re not heading back to Breaking-Rules-Land.”

“Why not? It does sound like such a mesmerizing place. We could buy a one-way-ticket and…” You strike back, caressing me with your oh so intense gaze.

But I’m not falling for it, no matter how easy and pleasant it would be.

“Trust is the only money you can pay that ticket with, Joe.”

“Mutual trust.” You correct me, your tone is a bit colder now.

“Yeah, right. Mutual trust.” I start to get a little nervous and I wonder if you noticed that.
C’mon, you always notice every fucking thing.
You keep silent and I can’t help wondering what you’re thinking.
You’re impredictable… and the way you’re staring at me… geez, should I get worried?
Of course I should.
You’re a ticking time bomb on legs and timing bombs should be left isolated, so when they explode they can’t hurt anyone.
What I did, being with you know, the way it makes me feel… fuck, this is so wrong, then why does it feel so right?

“Bronte,” finally you speak again and what I feel is very close to relief.

“Yeah?”

“D-do you… do you t-think we would break the rules if… if I gave you a hug? Jus-just to thank you, for all the things you did for me.”

I just look at you, a bit puzzled. After all, you rarely stutter.

“Believe me, it’s not that kind of sexy physical contact what I’m aiming to,” you add with that crooked smile of yours that drives me crazy. “I just feel the urge to convey all my gratitude for your help. For giving me back freedom. For filling me with hope. For the second chance you wanna give me. For still believing in me.”

Words. They are your real weapons.

I agree with your request with a nod and a second later I’m in your arms. Your warmth, the tender way you’re holding me, the coziness of your chest, where my head used to rest so many times, as I’m doing now.
And, dammit, it feels so right.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Huh?” I raise my gaze, questioning you.

“Well, it could be today, you know.”

“Well, it’s not. Anyway, is the hug supposed to be the gift?”

You chuckle.

“Well, you know better than me that at the moment I’m not the richest guy in the world, but, nope. This is just something I needed to do.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind it as a gift, in case.” I confess, holding you tighter and losing track of time.

“Thank you.” You murmur as we part, showing me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen and I don’t even know if you’re thanking me for the things I did or for what I've just said or for letting you hug me.

“Is it tomorrow?”

“What?”

“Your birthday. Oh no, don’t tell me it was before today and I missed it.”

Geez, Joe. You are really into obsession.

“I swear that if I hear you saying that damn B word just once more, I’ll make you swallow a padlock … and we have many of them around here!”

You challenge me with your look.

“Well, it sounds like a pretty lame threat to me. I’m rather accustomed to having steel inside my fucking body!” You retort, rolling up your sleeve , in order to show me the scars on your right arm.

Sometimes I forget how crazy you can be.

Are things gonna be always like this between us? An emotional roller coaster?
I mean just a few minutes ago we were trapped into a sort of sloppy movie and now you feel the need to remind me of your very wild temper, like a tawdry psycho-thriller movie?

Well, I’ve said I don’t want a boring life, so count me in!

“Okay, I’m gonna tell you the date: 10th July. Happy, now?” I find a way to calm you down.

“Very happy. You share the day with Marcel Proust.” You grin.

“Okay, it’s well known that you have an immense knowledge about books and authors, but… are you saying that you even remember their date of birth?! This is creepy.” I frown at you.

“Well, it’s not, if you compare me to a teenager who knows everything about their favourite popstars! Let’s just say that they’re my One Direction, Justin Bieber, Hilary Duff and so on.”

How can it be that you always find a way to make me smile?

“Besides, it’s not that I know the date of birth of every author, just the meaningful ones. ‘We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full.’.” You prove to me that not only you know the author, but also the content of one of his main books.

And the quotes that you picked… It sounds so perfect for us.

“Okay, it’s less creepy this way.” I agree. “Huh, I almost forgot. Check the address book on your new mobile. I’ve put something in the ‘B’ section.”

“B as ‘Bronte’. Your phone number, I guess.”

Wrong answer.

“More like B as ‘Brother’. Someone you haven’t spoken with for more than two years.”

“Oooh.” You smile, softened.

“But maybe now it’s not the proper time to call him, it must be almost 4:00 a.m. in Manila!”

But you’re already dialing the number.

“Oh, trust me, it’s exactly the most suitable hour.”

Joe’s POV

Will picks the call up right after the third ring.

“I would answer this call at any time of the day or night. Hello, friend!” He anticipates me, and I haven’t even said a word yet.

“I had already given him your new number and let’s just say he was a tad eager to hear from you.” You explain, as I turn the speaker on.

“Bronte told me about all the things you did for me. You two are the only reason why I am here now, feeling again like a normal person. And I’m speechless. Thank you.”

I feel your reassuring hand on my shoulder and I appreciate it a lot. It makes me feel understood, welcomed. I would dare to say ‘loved’ , but we’re still not ready to acknowledge that.

“I guess you’ve been punished long enough, brother. You deserve a fresh start. Glad I’ve helped.” states Will. “Bad stuff happened and forced you to do evil things, but you’re not a bad man, Joe.”

Am I not?

“How can you say that?”

“I knew the moment you opened my cage.”

But there are many other cages I should have opened and I didn’t.

Delilah, although I had every intention to do so.

Marianne, although I wasn’t even in my right mind when I locked her inside it.

“What does his cage mean? How the hell did you two meet?” You interrupt us.

So, you still don’t know.

“All of these weeks chatting together and you never faced that topic?” I wonder in disbelief.

“I’d prefer you to tell her the story.” Answers Will.

“Did we really strike you as school buddies?” I glance at you.

“With you it can never be the easy way, not even about friendship.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, I’ll give you the Reader’s digest version: stolen his identity in L.A., cos I needed it for a while. Locked him in the cage. Did a huge favor to him. Asked rather big favors to him. Set him free. And he didn’t abandon me after that.”

“I couldn’t have explained it better!” Will chuckles. “But let’s not talk about us, let’s talk about the brilliant things your girlfriend did for you.”

“Well, actually, she’s not my girlfriend anymore. She is not my girlfriend yet.” I give him my confusing explanation.

“Let’s say we’re more like two mates jumping on the Rebuild Mutual Trust train.” Is your more eloquent explanation. “Speakin of, I guess I’ll leave you guys on your own conversation.”

I watch you walk towards the front door and go outside, probably to take a walk.

“You were right, brother: she’ s the one. I’ve never seen someone so determined, well, after you.” Will makes me laugh.

“I know. She sounded fucking determined even when she screw my life up!”

“Resentment is not healthy, Joe. I should ask Gigi if she can give you online yoga lessons, to help you expel all the negative vibes.” Will makes me laugh.

“It was just a statement of the past. Trust me, I still love her. Even more than before, if it’s possible.”

“And she still loves you. Look at all she went through for you.”

“I still can’t believe this. And I wanna do things right this time.”

“You will, my friend. You’re ready for a fresh new start. Literally. The passports should reach you in a few days. I just have to contact a trusted man.”

“Oh. The passports? Do you still have them?”

“Did you really think you would spend your life in that little house, trying to rebuild mutual trust?” Will strikes back.

“Nope, I was sure I would spend my whole life rotting in jail. This is…as unexpected as beautiful. Thank you, my friend, for everything.”

“Just take good care of you and her, Joe. And I’m always here for you, whatever you need.”

“Actually, there’s something I need. And I promise I’m gonna send you the money as soon as I start earning some…”

“Don’t think about the money, just spit it out.”

“Would you mind if with the passports you would also provide me something else? It will be Bronte’s birthday in a few weeks and I would like her to have a certain book.”

“Consider it done. Just text me all the details. So glad we can still have these phone calls.”

“I’m glad, too. Bye, Will.” I hang up.

Given that it’s the most deserted area ever, I reach you outside and I find you sitting on a tree stump.
“It was nice to talk with Will again.” I say, sitting close to you who don’t move away. “Last time we did, things didn’t go exactly as I planned.”

My voice sounds broken.
I miss my son so much.

“I know.” You murmur, as your hand gently pats my knee. “Do you remember when we dreamed about that castle in Ireland and you asked me if we could take Henry with us?”

“Yeah?”

No way you could suggest that we…

“I’m sorry, Joe, it can’t happen. I really wish we could, but it’s too dangerous for you, who must remain dead for everyone, and too traumatic for him, he’s still not ready for such a thing, he’s so young and innocent.”

“I just wonder how long he’ll stay innocent, in the clutches of that wicked witch!” I retort.

“I know, Joe. I know. But I’m sure that deep inside Henry still keeps all the good memories he has of you, he knows you are a good father. But bad stuff brought you to do bad things. One day he'll understand this."

I let your comforting words rock me like a lullaby, as I lean my head on your shoulder and you start caressing my close-cropped hair.

"I love Henry so much. I always will! Not that in these months in jail I could see him, but at least he knew I was there. And now he must feel so abandoned! I just wish I could tell him that daddy is still here, that he's not alone..."

I'm crying now.

"You shouldn't rush things, not now, just let him mourn you. But also never say never. Maybe one fine day, when he's a little bit older, you'll show yourself to him, you'll have a chance to explain some things to him and he'll understand, he'll be happy and relieved to find out his father is still alive...."

"One day..." I repeat, closing my eyes.

The trees that surround us, the quiet, the sense of safety, the hope that maybe I haven't completely lost my son yet.
I'll just allow my eyes to rest a bit more…

Bronte’s POV

I can’t believe you fell asleep, as I was trying to cheer you up.
Actually, I can believe it very easily.
It was such a full day for you, such a storm of different emotions.
You must be exhausted.
As you rest, I take advantage to watch you.
I’m already starting to like your shorter hair, although some changes will be needed.
You have such a serene expression on your face, maybe for what I told you about Henry.
And it wasn’t bullshit, I really meant it.
It would be wrong to shock such a still so young kid. But a teenager could face it better.
Time to time.

Since you mistook my shoulder for your personal pillow, it’s not that I can go anywhere else.
I’ll let you sleep, but I’m not gonna follow your example.
I’ll stand guard, because okay, this is one of the most isolated places, but you never can be too sure.

By the time you wake up, it’s almost sunset.
Slowly, you stir, open your eyes and realize what happened.

“Oh no, sorry. I fell asleep, I didn’t mean to…” You part from me.

“Oh, c’mon, there’s no need to apologise, you deserved some rest.” I reply as we head back inside the house. “Now I guess I’ll have a shower, too. Do what you prefer, sleep a little more, watch TV, whatever… I’ll be back in a while.”

Just like you, I also need to wash off the tiredness - more mental for me - of the day.

I can’t help recalling all the showers we had together, right after love, or before … sometimes we made love even in the shower.
But now I’m still not ready for that kind of intimacy… and also to see that wounded part of yours!
Maybe sex won’t ever be an option anymore…

After all, that night, in the woods, the last time you put your hands on me, it was to kill me… and yet before, with the kiss and then the hug, I didn’t even stiffen… I guess it’s a good sign.

Once I’m dry, I wrap myself in a comfy blue shirt, twice bigger than my size.

Even before I reach the kitchen, a yummy smell welcomes me.

You’re cooking.
You made yourself at home, becoming familiar with the kitchen.
I like that.
Your back is turned, but as you hear me approaching, you turn.

“Hello, you.” You smile at me, holding a wooden fork. “As you can see, I found something more productive than sleeping again. I wanted to do something nice for you and when I opened the fridge I got the answer.”

“Ohhh, but you shouldn’t have, I could go buy some pizzas, or there was some Maccheroni and Cheese to put in the microwave, or…”

“Naaaah, this night deserved a real dinner. And anyway, it’s just a small thing. Eggs and some vegetables, a recipe I’ve learned in London.” You explain, as you sautès the vegetables in the pan. “One day I’ll tell you about London. But not tonight.”

“Why not?” I ask you, as you make me taste a diced potato with paprika and I moan in delight.

“Because this evening is about happy stuff.”

Oh, so London was bad? I don’t think so, you ended up being a billionaire there!

“Can I help you with something?” I approach the induction cookers, but you gently push me away.

“Ah-ah. Be my guest.” You invite me to sit at the table.

“Well, I guess it’s way better than being your hostage!”

Geez, sometimes I should bite my tongue.

You glare at me for a second, but you keep silent and resume cooking.

It’s your way to let me know our armistice goes on.

I open the bottle of red wine and fill the glass for us both.

I give you one glass and we have a toast.

“To second chances!” You chirp.

“To start overs!” I add making our glass clash.

And once we eat the dinner you serve I remind myself once more the wonderful cook you are.

We talk a lot during the dinner, but not about the jail.
You said this night is made for happy stuff.

And yet out of the blue you lose your cheerful attitude, as there was some gnawing thought you need to get out.

“C’mon, Joe. Feel free to tell me everything.” I urge you, my hand skimming yours.

"I think I know what freaked you out, when we were together.” You state, as you fidget with the now empty glass, without facing my gaze.

Waaah, This is such a tough topic for a night that was meant to be lighthearted.

“Well, enlighten me.” Is my answer, as I fill it.

“Ezra shouldn’t have turned Ella.”

Well, Joe. Bingo. Target hit and sunk.

“Yeah, damn right. He should have asked her before. He had no right to make that decision for her.”

“Probably he didn’t, because he was too afraid she would refuse and he didn’t want to lose her.” You counter, but at least this time you’re looking at me.

‘There was the risk. But maybe he wouldn’t lose her. They would have figured out together a way to make things work. Taking the risk, at least Ezra would have given Ella a voice and she would be forever grateful for that, no matter what.” I retort, staring at you.

“Is Ezra still in time to apologise to Ella and make things better?” You ask me, your eyes almost teary.

I reach for your hand and hold it tight.

“Well, I’m here Joe. Not going anywhere. You can rewrite the book.”
TBC
Notes:
About Joe’s birthday, there’s no mention of it in the series. I read somewhere it’s written in the books, but so far I’ve just started the second one and I haven't found it yet.
And mostly , I prefer TV!Joe than book!Joe (although the books are amazing!)
Plus, I’ve just borrowed the date just from the awesome Penn, because, c’mon Scorpio fits Joe to a T!
Of course, Bronte’s birthday is totally made-up!
By the way.. here's the positive side about having few readers, lol.. I had made a HUGE mistake about her birthday if I want her to be a Cancer, so now I fixed everything, also the author who shares the same date.. and I found something even better, I guess :)
So, glad you din't notice the mistake, eheh

It would be extra lovely to have your opinion about it, but I should stop being an optimistic, or maybe you didn’t even reach the end of this chapter, LOL

later I'll also put a new prompt for the Flufftober ;)
thanks for reading, as always
- 4
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Ezra and Ella

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