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Ezra and Ella	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 225 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
Notes:
Post Finale ‘You 5’ (which means 'Spoilers!' , don't read if you didn't see season 5 yet)
Pairing: Joe/Bronte
Hello everyone, this is my first attempt in this fandom. I’ve never thought I’d write about it one day, but season 5 totally blew me away, and THAT ship, oh my, oh my!!
Usually I'm not a lucky author, my stories are not much appreciated, I hardly get feedback, so I don’t expect anything different this time, I’m just thrilled to try and give my two favourite characters another chance!
I'm also aware that almost no one likes Bronte, nor Joe getting a better end or sort of, that's why probably no one will like this story.. but I do and I've always written what I like
Warning: this could go in very dark places… but it’s a journey with Joe Goldberg, after all.
Uh, another thing: please, be kind, English is not my native language (actually I would need some beta reader’s help), sorry for possible mistakes.

Chapter I: You were supposed to shrink

Bronte’s POV

Uhm, what’s the thing I used to say about myself just some months ago?

Oh, right, that’s it.

I still have no idea who I want to be. But I can't wait to find out

Well actually I found out: I’m a writer. For real.

Maybe you were right about not underestimating my talent.

Or maybe it’s just the beginner’s luck, but it looks like my first published book is a best seller.

And I didn’t have to resort to anything related to you.
Brand new characters. Brand new countries. Brand new plot. Brand new scenario.
A breath of fresh air.

I’ve come a long way from the tidal wave of cum.

I’m in the middle of the third chapter of the second book the Publishing House commissioned to me, when I hear the front door open.

Oh no, why so soon?

“Sweetheart, I’m home.” cheers a very familiar voice.

It’s Paul Brettfort, my boyfriend.
We’ve been dating for like four months and… here I am, living in his house.

This is funny and maybe a bit weird, too. Paul, just like Paul Brown, one of the fake identities you used.

But that’s the only thing you and this Paul have in common.

“Hi, honey!” I walk towards him, in order to give him a kiss.

I'm a little bit reluctant, if I have to be honest with myself.

I just had such a wave of inspiration and I would prefer to keep writing.

“Why aren’t you already dressed up? We have that dinner with my friends tonight, don’t you remember?”

I nod, going upstairs.

Geez. Not again. Not another fucking boring evening with Paul’s friends: an insurance agent, a broker and a notary.

None of them is even remotely close to being an artist. And they wouldn't talk about literature even if they had a gun on their head.

Oh wait, gunpoint, this evokes some memories… of that fateful night.

Fuck, I’d better hurry up with the dressing and make up instead of racking my brains.

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

The endless fucking dinner finally ended and Paul and I are home again, which can mean one thing only.

Paul’s second name could be ‘Routine’.

Here we go, having sex right before sleeping, just like every damn single day since I met him at that grocery store.

The same, lame, stupid, banal sex.

I hate myself impossibly much, because lately there’s only one way to reach the orgasm with him: thinking of you, replacing you with him, here by my side, right now.

But no way, you would never do such boring stuff with me. You used to ignite me in so many ways, you challenged me, you worshipped me.
Oh, wait, after what I did to you.. I guess you should find new ways to make me feel that good.

Geez, it’s getting late and I’d better sleep just like Paul is already doing.
I was so busy pretending that I didn’t even notice he was already satisfied.
I guess this frames our ‘passionate’ sexual life.
Like I said, I should try to close my eyes, but I already know I’ll spend this night sleepless, like all the other nights in these last months.

What the hell is wrong with me?
Now I have Paul. Thirty-three years. Beautiful. So athletic. He loves sports. He has a steady job in a bank.
He's the kind of guy that when he says he’s going to a place, you can be sure he’s really going there.
No mystery. No bluff. No lies. No deception.
And he loves me, so kindly, delicately… normally.
I should feel like I hit the jackpot with him!
Instead, your soothing, silky voice keeps echoing in my head.
Those words you said to me that last night.
They keep haunting me.

‘I think some part of you still needs me.’

Fuck, you were right and I’ve been so naive.
You were supposed to shrink, instead day after day I miss you, more and more.
Did I really do the right thing?
For me. For you.
Was it really the right ending for our story?

I turn my head to Paul who’s still sleeping so serenely.
I can see him in the soft moonlight of the window I like to keep open.

‘No one will ever love you like I do. Ever again. ‘

Once again, I’m afraid you were right.
Or, even worse, I’ll never love anyone like I loved you.
No, Louise, be true at least with yourself.
Like I love you, Joe. Still.
Despite everything. Despite you’re a serial killer. Despite you took so many lives.
Despite you were about to take mine!
However, I gave a lot of thoughts about the things you did.
Let’s not fool ourselves. This world sucks. People suck.
You always had a good reason.
Yeah, Beck was a friend of mine, but.. did I really know her so well?
Instead, you did. So you must have seen something wrong in her. Something dark.
Just like you saw it in many other people.
Clayton. That selfish bastard!

I twist and turn in the bed, my eyes still utterly open, my mind with no intention to give me some rest.

You turned on me, just because I turned on you.
And I stupidly did because I wasn’t able to see you then, the way I see you now.
My chaotic good hero, just a little bit evil when it’s necessary.

‘You fixated on me because you couldn't stand being Louise Flannery any longer.’

Shit. This is so fucking true it scares me.
Fuck Louise, I miss Bronte, I can still be her and I will.

Bronte was the only one who managed to stop you, Joe, so maybe she could be the only one who could…

This last thought scares the hell out of me, I can’t even bring myself to end it.

No, no, no, no, Louise, don’t lose your mind.
You can’t screw everything up, just like that.
Your new perfect, flawless life.
Your rightfulness.

Then why am I already packing my things, as silent as I can?
Just like a thief, maybe because I’m stealing a life which is not the one I crave.
My rucksack is ready with my laptop, money, some clothes and the basic stuff.

I just sit at the dinner table, take a sheet of paper and start writing.

‘Dear Paul,
When you wake up I’ll be gone.
Yes, I’m leaving you and I chose the most coward way to do so, but I couldn’t stand the sight of your sad eyes.
The problem is not you, who are utterly perfect.
Perfect. But not for me.
I can’t fool you, it wouldn't be fair. Maybe we rushed things too much, maybe if you think about it a little longer you’ll also figure out I’m not the proper girl for you.
You deserve someone who can truly love you, to be happy with.
And I’m sure you’ll find this girl sooner than you expect.
Please, don’t look for me, ever.
It’s way better to break up now, before things get too serious.
Thank you for anything.
I wish you the most wonderful life.
Farewell.

Louise’

An hour and half later, I’m on a train, leaving Michigan, which has never truly been my place.
New York, here I come!
I’m coming home.
I’m coming to you.

Joe’s POV

What’s the point of waking up, if every day is fucking identical to the previous one and the one that still has to come?
All these months and yet they don’t trust me enough, not even to give me a pen to write.
They’re afraid I could kill myself with that.
And they’re right.
I would stab my heart with it, like vampires with wood.
Probably I wouldn't explode into a pile of dust, but I would end this pathetical surrogacy of existence.
The paradox would be such a book cherisher like me trying to slit his wrists with the page of a book - the papers of all the letters I receive are too soft, they can’t serve any purpose-.

Actually I’ve tried once, but they noticed and stopped me before the bleeding could cause any serious damage.
And it was with the very first book they allowed me to have, after I finished reading it.
It was ‘The Executioner’s song’.
Peak of irony.
I’m laughing, thinking of that.
Yeah, I'm laughing right here, right now.
Alone.
By now I’m used to doing everything alone.
I keep laughing.
I sound crazy. Maybe I am. Even more probably, I’ve always been.

However, after that sad episode - sad because I didn’t manage to perform my ultimate killing: myself. -, the guards told me they wouldn’t give me books anymore, but I begged them not to do so, that it wouldn’t have happened anymore.
It was only a moment of weakness and they’ve been merciful.
I get three books a week, which is something I’m very grateful for.
Otherwise, I would just sit here all alone, staring at the walls.
The only thought would kill me… oh, wait, didn’t I wish to die?
I’ve said I’m crazy, haven't I?

Yes, okay. I’ve made some mistakes. I’ve done some despicable things. Horrible things.
But always for a good reason.
Do I really deserve all this?
Did I really have to lose every fucking thing? My son, my money, Mooney, all my books, my freedom, my purest concept of love?

Speaking of…
Among all the books I receive, there was even your best seller, Bronte.
I expected to find the Huntress and the Magician, instead…
I chuckled.
A crime novel?
Actually, two detectives on the trail of a criminal, who end up falling in love in the process?
As a man wounded in his ego, with a broken heart, I should say your book sucks and I hated every page of it; but as an unfazed book reviewer I can’t lie: that was good. A lot. Clean. Essential. Captivating. Such a mature work.

I just can’t help wondering, are the righteous detectives me and you?
Oh nope, Bronte, I can more easily picture us as the dangerous criminals.
You also used to say it, don’t you remember?
Just like Bonnie and Clyde.
Oh, it could have been, Bronte, that and so much more… but you preferred fuckin up my entire life… you, ungrateful bitch!
And yet I keep thinking of you.

Candace. Beck. Love. Marienne. Kate.
I loved them all, deeply, intensely, sincerely…but they all faded away from my heart.
But not you. Never you. Why?
The only woman who managed to fool me twice… and probably could do it again.
Oh, Bronte, what would I do if I had you here in front of me now?
Strangle you? Kiss you? Both things at once?
I don’t know, I really don’t know.

But I keep having so many fantasies about you.
Like I did when you were supposed to just stay in the box.
Before everything between us started.
Before the fire devoured us. Literally. Oh no, wait, it’s just Kate the burnt one.
Another chuckle.
Oh please, that eager bitch hadn’t even the decency to die, at least let me have some little fun.

In my fantasies, sometimes I kill you, sometimes you kill me. Sometimes we just make love, in the grass, under millions of stars.
If only you hadn’t run away.
If only you could have accepted me. All of me.

I lay down the cot and cover my lap with the newest book they gave me.
Some guards could be around.
My hand slowly goes down, crossing first the elastic band of my awful red trousers and then it slides inside my boxers.
Yep, it might be just my hand but as I close my eyes and bite my lips it's you who’s doing that, knowing what pace I like, knowing everything about me.
Or maybe not.
I grin as I increase the pace.
Fresh news, Bronte: you think you shot me there but your aim ain’t that good. You just hit my left groin.
It hurt like hell, of course, but at least down there everything still perfectly works.
And I’d be very glad to prove it to you.
If only…

TBC
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Ezra and Ella

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