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dawnsbreaking · 2 years ago

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not as smooth as we planned - chapter one

Harry and Rose get a second chance after the villa. pairing: Harry/CMC Rose chapter 1 of 4 chapter word count: 9,145 (i know) read on ao3

Despite winning a reality tv show and finding herself in a committed relationship with up-and-coming star Rafi Sayed, Rose Prichard was all too excited to go back to living a regular life after Love Island.

Rose loved her job as an event coordinator for a non-profit, despite the long hours and meager salary. After winning the prize money and moving in with Rafi, however, she no longer had to choose between a job that she loved and paying bills on time.

It had been Rafi’s idea for Rose to move in with him. He’d suggested it the night they won Love Island—before they were even technically a couple—and Rose resisted for as long as she could manage. It was far too soon, she knew that, but they’d been so close in the villa that resistance seemed futile in the end. She broke her lease and moved in with Rafi two months after the series finale.

Soon after the move, Rafi booked a breakout role and the job called him away for months at a time. In the year and a half that they’d lived together, Rafi had only been home with her for six collective months sprinkled throughout. Rose enjoyed spending her time alone or with friends in his lush flat— their lush flat—while he was away filming. It was idyllic, cooking meals in the fancy kitchen, entertaining guests in the well-decorated living room, and bringing her work home to a cozy spare bedroom turned home office. She hardly missed her boyfriend at all. That should have been the first sign that something wasn’t right.

On paper, Rose and Rafi made no sense. She was a private person, maintaining just enough social media presence to assure her distant relatives that she was still alive and, occasionally, using her fame after Love Island to promote charity events. Rafi, even before his stint on reality tv, had been a frequent purveyor of tasteful Instagram thirst traps and lifestyle vlog content. He thrived in the public eye and it was part of his career. It had been an uphill battle for him to get Rose to trust that the two of them could be compatible.

Rafi had joined Love Island late, infatuated with the girl he’d seen on the show. Rose had been there since day one but had yet to be swept off her feet. Harry, the boy she’d been most interested in before Rafi, was indecisive and immature. Rose gave up on him before the third recoupling, ending up in a friendship match with Camilo until Rafi’s arrival.

Rafi was already committed to Rose before the two had even spoken. His beach hut interviews were convincing love letters to a woman he’d never met that charmed the audience and caused viewers to root for the couple even before their first date.

Though Rose was slightly overwhelmed by Rafi’s initial feelings for her, he was able to prove himself as a partner and deepen his feelings beyond a crush on a girl on the telly. The optics were good. Of Rafi’s crush working out so well, of Rose learning to appreciate and understand and then return his feelings. Of someone coming in so late and so quickly becoming part of a strong couple. When they won, everyone but Rose seemed to have seen it coming.

After the show, their relationship remained somewhat public, despite Rose’s protests. When Rafi got invited to red carpet movie premieres, Rose’s name was listed on the invitation. Rafi’s publicist also encouraged him to post pictures of him and Rose together. He talked about her in interviews, included short clips of her reading or working in his vlogs, and even once took a brand deal promoting an app for couples, using her name in the copy of the ad.

There weren’t fights, really. Rose expressed her need for boundaries, continued to share the bare minimum on her own socials, and declined every brand deal and interview she was offered. She’d ask Rafi for discretion and be disappointed when he could only provide so much.

Rafi was back home for a short stint between filming outside the country and a small press tour for his show when Rose hit a wall with him. He made dinner and opened a bottle of wine, she filled him in on gossip from work and her friends.

“Oh,” he said, sounding startled at his own abrupt change of subject. “I forgot to tell you. There’s a premiere for my friend’s movie in a couple of weeks. I’m gonna fly you there for the night so you can come.”

The verbiage bothered Rose the most. He wasn’t asking, he was telling. She took a sip of wine and gathered her thoughts before asking, “What are the dates?”

The charity that Rose worked for had its annual fundraising event coming up, an event that she had been working to organize for the better part of the past year. She wouldn’t be able to travel so close to that event, she’d be too busy. Rafi should know that.

“I don’t know, it’s a Friday. About a month from today.” Rafi smiled, reached to lay a hand over hers on the table. “It’s an artsy film festival thing, I think you’ll like it.”

Rose knitted her brows at him. If he was right about the day, he’d planned on attending an event outside of the country the night of her fundraising event. She gave him a moment of silence, hoping he’d remember and correct himself without her having to break the bad news.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want to go?”

“Rafi, are you messing with me?” She’d been talking about this event for months, complaining about vendors and guests and tablecloths almost every time she spoke to him about work.

“Why would I be messing with you? We’re going to a film festival. Four weeks from today. What’s wrong with that?”

“Friday, four weeks from today, is the day of my fundraising event.”

What Rose expected from this revelation was just a few meters short of overreaction. She expected a rush from Rafi to apologize, a hurried explanation. She expected him to get his manager on the phone and cancel with the film festival. Have his assistant send a fruit basket and flowers to everyone involved.

Instead, he shrugged, squeezed her hand on the table. “I’ll tell them you won’t be able to make it.”

Rose withdrew her hand from his grasp, cradled it awkwardly in her lap as if nursing a physical injury. She frowned, giving Rafi yet another chance to self-correct. He raised a brow but kept his movie-star smile in place. Nothing. Rose hated conflict, even when it was unavoidable.

“What about my event?”

Rafi offered no solution, shrugged again. “You know I hate those things, anyway. Networking events.”

“Networking events?” Rose closed her mouth tight before she could say anything that might put her relationship in jeopardy. She was hosting a fundraising gala with a silent auction. Attendees certainly could network, but that was far from the focus of the event. Besides, his film festival certainly was a networking event. She didn’t argue, didn’t say any of this out loud. She stood, cleared her plate and his.

“Thank you for making dinner.”

Rose took the plates to the sink and started doing the washing up, her back turned to Rafi so that she didn’t have to keep her facial expressions in check. Rose was a terrible liar.

She could feel his eyes on her, though, watching her work to produce even breaths.

“I forgot to tell you,” she said, keeping her back to him. “I have to run to the office tonight and get some last minute work done. We added a couple of new organizations to the guest list so I need to get some paperwork ready for them.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

Rose turned, facing him again. She decided that she didn’t care if he knew she was lying or not. “I’ve got meetings tomorrow.”

“Can’t be helped then.” Rafi shrugged. He was playing it cool, but Rose could see his shoulders tense as he took another sip of his wine.

“Thank you for dinner, again.” She kissed his cheek on her way to the door.

Harry had never expected Rose to pick him in the first place, so he wasn’t surprised when she’d ended up with someone else in the end. He wasn’t surprised when she won, either. Rose Prichard probably could have won no matter who stood next to her.

If it had been anyone else, his first instinct would have been toward anger. He’d never understood the phrase, ‘if you love someone, let them go’ before. But he adored Rose. He was happy for her, despite everything.

After the show, when life swept them up in separate directions, he wasn’t surprised that they stopped talking. If her social media was any indication, she was happy and busy. Harry didn’t resent their lack of communication or push too hard to keep her in his life, he accepted her shrinking away. Eventually, he unfollowed her on Instagram.

It was hard enough seeing Rafi on movie posters, he had to draw a line in the sand and move on.

Some things were easier said than done.

Harry wasn't sure if his eyes were working properly when he saw her again. The last time he'd seen Rose Prichard had been at the taping of the 'Islander's Tell All' part of the Love Island finale. She'd been with Rafi all night, then, and had barely spoken to Harry.

But there she was, more than a year later, in the flesh. And she was walking into his office building.

Since letting Love Island and all its trappings fade into his past, Harry had continued his original life plan with some slight alterations. He’d landed a job at a tech startup, after learning that he was better suited for back end stuff, programming alone in an office rather than trying to hold the world on his shoulders.

It was rewarding, doing something he was genuinely good at. Even if his life was less glamorous than he’d once hoped, he was happier for the stability and self-assuredness that he’d earned in the pivot.

Rose scanned a key card at his building’s entrance and Harry watched in horror and confusion as his past collided with his present.

The large office building was home to multiple companies that paid to rent spaces or entire floors. It was entirely possible that Rose worked somewhere in the building.

Without thinking, Harry jogged to the door. He’d been enjoying a leisurely stroll before, early enough to work that he could enjoy walking the long way from the parking garage across the street. Seeing Rose had jump-started him like the espresso he’d planned on buying from the café next door. He scanned his badge and slowed to appear nonchalant as he walked in, he held his breath as he brushed past Rose and they stepped into the same elevator.

She looked up, eyes widening when she registered his presence and then his identity. He remembered nights by the pool, making her compete in staring contests just so he could swim in her eyes.

“Harry?”

“Oh my god!” He tried to play it off like he hadn’t seen her, but he suspected that Rose might be able to see right through him. He found he didn’t care. Something in him wanted her to know that he cared for her, even at risk to his pride. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” she said. “Do you work here?”

He beamed. “I’m a programmer on the sixth floor.”

Rose’s eyes lit up and she laughed, shaking her head. Her hair had grown since Harry had last seen her and she was even prettier than he remembered.

“That’s so weird. My new office is on the sixth floor.”

She had to be joking.

“You have to be joking.”

Rose laughed again. “Nope.” She pressed the button for the sixth floor as if to prove her point.

“Huh.”

“Why haven’t I seen you before?” Rose asked, stepping out of the elevator with some hesitation.

“Ah, I’ve been working from home…” Harry adjusted his backpack strap on his shoulder. Though he’d grown more confident, Rose’s clear gaze still had a way of making him self-conscious. He waved the question away. “Do you usually come in this early?”

It was just past five in the morning and they were among the only people in the building.

Rose frowned, seeming to take a moment to think about her answer. “I’m just trying to catch up on some things.”

Harry recognized the crease in her brow and wished she wouldn’t lie to him. He nodded, though, didn’t push the issue.

Harry had thought about seeing Rose again a terribly vast, innumerable amount of times. His imaginings ranged from the dark, where she laughed at him for thinking he might have ever had a chance, to the sweet, where she told him that she’d left Rafi and wanted to be with him instead. Now, in real life, none of those fantasies served him. He had no idea how to speak to her after all this time.

“What, um, company do you work for?”

The sixth floor was home to multiple companies besides Harry’s, since half of it was dedicated to a row of self-contained offices that served as overflow for higher-ups from other floors.

“The same charity as before,” she said, hesitating to say before Love Island. Harry nodded to communicate that he understood the impulse and she continued, letting their shared history remain unspoken, “I was promoted recently, though.”

“Oh, congrats!” The elevator doors opened again, depositing them on the sixth floor. It seemed that one had been round to turn on the lights, though. It was still completely dark.

“Thank you,” Rose said. Then, “Christ, it’s dark, still.”

Harry laughed and flicked on the torch on his phone, lighting Rose’s footpath. “I’m not sure where the switches are,” he said.

She walked forward confidently, finding a switch on the wall directly opposite the elevator.

Harry turned the torch back off. “Do you come in early a lot?”

Rose shrugged. “The new job is busy.” She looked off toward the hallway and Harry got the impression that she might be trying to shut the conversation down. He missed where he was a few seconds ago, trapped in an elevator where she couldn’t leave him.

In a desperate effort to preserve the conversation, Harry asked, “What is it you do, now? For the organization.”

“I’m still in event planning, but I’m pretty much in charge of the whole gala now. They made a position just for me, hence the office down here. They didn’t have room to give me an office where everyone else is.”

“It’s cool that you’re still doing the same stuff. Like, everyone else from the villa is basically an influencer, now.”

Rose laughed, shaking off the compliment. “Not you, though.”

Harry ruffled his hair, blushing. He occasionally helped with Nicky and Seb’s podcast, but Rose was right, he preferred the path his life had been on before Love Island—computer screens and tech startups. He could do with a bit more money, but he didn’t really enjoy all the attention of reality TV long term. “You couldn’t pay me enough.”

“We have that in common, then.” Rose’s smile was as genuine as ever, radiating warmth. She was gorgeous, inside and out.

Harry almost didn’t want to ask. “How’s Rafi, by the way?”

“Oh. Things with Rafi are good,” Rose said. Harry watched her hand toying with a loose thread that sprouted from the handle of her cloth tote bag. “He just got back yesterday from a shoot in Canada.”

“That’s good, then?” Harry couldn’t help but wonder why Rose would be at work so early instead of sleeping in with her boyfriend if he’d just returned home from a long trip. He didn’t voice the question, but it hung in the air regardless.

“Yeah!” Rose dropped the loose thread, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them still. “It’s a shame I’m so busy.” She laughed again, still a little stilted, and gestured lamely down the hall. “My office is number six, by the way—has a nameplate—if you ever need anything.”

Harry took a step back, taking the hint. “Of course, it was good seeing you, Rose.” He hurried to his desk, but her name lingered sweetly on his lips.

Rose didn’t know what to make of seeing Harry again. It was strange enough seeing people from the show on Instagram—Harry was right, most of them were influencers, now—or occasionally hearing about them from Rafi, who was better at keeping in touch with everyone. Seeing Harry at work was beyond strange.

For almost one entire hour, she did her best to throw herself into her emails. It greatly impeded her, though, that she hadn’t yet slept. Because of the disagreement with Rafi the night before and her subsequent all-nighter, she was both incredibly tired and almost three days ahead of her normal work schedule.

When Harry had asked her why she was in the office so early, she hadn’t had the heart nor pride to tell him that she’d been there all night, only having left the office briefly to stretch her legs and grab a spare phone charger from her car.

Sighing, she stood from her desk. It was a large rectangular glass desktop on a stained wooden frame, identical to the desk in her office at home. Both had been gifts from Rafi to celebrate her promotion since he’d been abroad when the promotion was finalized. She remembered the bittersweet feeling of receiving the gifts but wishing Rafi was there to celebrate with.

Harry wasn’t hard to find. The majority of the sixth floor was dedicated to large tables of open-concept desks where robust computers could be given sufficient room to breathe.

Rose smiled when she saw him. He was completely absorbed in his work, wearing a pair of large blue light glasses and over-ear headphones, staring dead into his monitor.

“Hey,” Rose said, waving her hand to get his attention. He removed his headphones and grinned up at her.

“What’s up?”

“Just needed a break,” she said. “And, I mean, what are the odds of us both working here and coming in early today? I felt rude for running off earlier.”

Harry gestured toward a rolling chair opposite him and scooted his monitor to the side so that he’d be able to see her past it. “Have a seat, then.”

“I mean, if you’re not too busy.”

He laughed, shook his head. “Nah, sit down.”

Rose sat, feeling at ease already in his presence. She’d liked Harry in the villa because he wasn’t intimidating. She had been instantly comfortable around him then too.

“What are you working on?” She asked. Harry kept typing, looking back and forth from her to the screen without losing pace.

He said, “I have a coding test coming up, I’m going for a better position on the programming team here.”

“Oh yeah?”

Harry nodded, a blush spreading on his cheeks. “I’m the only person up for the position internally, so it’s pretty much a done deal.”

“I hope you get it, then.”

Harry stilled his typing and studied Rose. His face lowered into a slight frown as he asked, “Is there a reason you're here and not at home with Rafi?" He paused, catching himself, and quickly added, "I mean, not like it's really my business but if something is wrong, you can talk to me.”

Rose wasn't sure what compelled her to be honest with Harry. She hadn't spoken to him nearly since the villa. It wasn't as if she’d consider him a particularly close friend, or even a contender for becoming one, but that lack of closeness also created a lack of permanence to the conversation. If she really wanted, she could spill her guts and then avoid Harry for the rest of her life. It hadn't been so hard not to see him before now.

"I kind of ran out of the house to avoid an argument," she said, slumping in her chair. "I do actually have work to do, but..."

Harry folded his arms and leaned back, giving her his full attention. “So, you’ve been here all night.”

Rose nodded in the affirmative, caught.

“Don't you have work to do?" She asked, unsure whether she did so to dissuade him from pushing further or out of guilt at having interrupted him.

He shrugged. "I've pretty much got this in the bag."

"The confidence!" Rose giggled, feeling lighter at his easy reply. She liked that about him, too, even if it had been a little infuriating in the villa, the confidence suited him now that he'd grown up a bit.

He had grown up a bit, Rose noticed. He seemed more self-assured and quietly confident than he had before. If the villa confidence had been an act, this new attitude was completely genuine.

"So, the charity gala I've been planning, right?" Rose said, still not completely sure of her desire to vent to Harry but not unsure enough to fight the words from falling from her mouth.

"Right," Harry affirmed. He’d heard about the galas when they’d been a couple on Love Island, she’d been involved in their planning then, too.

"It's literally all I do all year. I plan this event, it goes great, then I start over and plan the one for next year. Like, literally once a year all of my work gets to pay off."

Harry pushed his keyboard away and folded his hands in front of him, making a show of closely listening.

"So Rafi and I were having dinner and all of the sudden, he's talking about this movie premiere he wants me to go to..." Rose huffed, speaking faster as the irritation came back to her. "Which, like, fine. But it's the same weekend as my gala.”

Harry made a shocked face, covering his mouth with a dramatic flair. "No! Really?”

"Yeah!" It felt good to have someone validate her feelings, even if that someone wasn't her boyfriend. "Right? He didn't even apologize or anything. He just said that I didn't have to go and laughed it off."

"Wait," Harry said. "So, he's not even going to go with you?”

"Yes!" Rose felt more justified in her anger by the second, realizing she wasn't completely crazy for how mad she was. "At this point, I'm not even sure I want him to come."

As she said that, Rose realized that it sunk to the heart of the issue. She didn’t want Rafi at the gala if he didn’t want to be there. A small part of her, though, panged at the thought as a slideshow of her time with Rafi passed her by. The brand deals she didn't want to take part in and the press events she loathed. Rafi’s career at the cost of her privacy.

The first opportunity had come to return the favor and Rafi had fallen completely flat.

When Rose had coupled with Harry on their first day in the villa, Harry had felt like he'd won the lottery. He was stunned at first that she was interested in him at all, but he'd have felt that way about any of the girls. She was way out of his league, and he'd made a joke to her to that effect on the first day. But as time passed and they were able to get to know each other more, he realized just how lucky he was.

Rose was radiant and kind. She was able to keep the peace with people around her. She rose above the drama in the villa easily and always managed to come out on top of things. She was funny, too, and smart. Conversations with her were fortifying to Harry in a way that seemed rare and precious.

After just the few days they had together as a couple, he could see himself really falling for her.

Then he'd messed it all up. He got intimidated, worried that she wasn't really as into him as she let on. He'd started to get the sense that she was further out of his league than he'd originally suspected, that she was starting to get tired of him.

When his insecurities got the better of him, Harry started entertaining other options. He flirted with girls he cared less about because they would hurt his feelings less when they moved on. It felt cliché beyond cliché, so he'd never admitted it to a soul, but he broke things off with Rose because he liked her too much.

She didn't know this, though, she thought that the breakup was mutual, that they both wanted to explore other options. If she was upset, she didn't show it, didn't even give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd made the wrong choice. He knew that she was being charitable and kind and thinking of others like always. She didn't want a disagreement, so a disagreement was avoided.

She had liked him, though, he’d realized all too late, and he'd blown it.

To add insult to injury, Rafi had stolen the show completely when he’d arrived.

Rafi made a spectacle of how much he liked Rose, throwing Harry under the bus while he was at it. Rafi was a real man, Rafi wouldn't take a diamond like Rose for granted, Rafi could show her just how made up his mind was.

It had made Harry want to leave the show early. But he’d stayed, made his bed, got nice and cozy in it.

He was happy that Rose was happy, but he’d never been Rafi’s biggest fan.

Now, hearing Rose complain about him so charitably after he'd done something so careless and needlessly mean, he had to hold back all of the harsh things he wished he could say. He’d always thought that Rose was too nice for her own good.

"Maybe he'll realize his mistake after you ran away in the middle of the night. Like, he has to, right?"

Rose shrugged, looking completely at a loss. "He doesn't pay all that much attention to my silly moods. He knows that if I really have a problem, I'll let him know."

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? You will?"

"Okay..." Rose blushed. "Point taken."

Harry wished that she'd be more assertive. So many mean people that didn't deserve to assert themselves so much did so all the time. People like Rose deserved to get their way more often.

“Look, maybe this isn’t my place but Rafi should already know he's fucked up. Like, you shouldn't have to tell him that the thing you've spent a whole year on means something to you." He leaned forward, speaking faster, hoping to keep Rose from interjecting before he’d convinced her of his point. He liked the feeling of having nothing to lose with Rose, being able to tell her exactly what he thought. “Like, what if he spent a year working on a movie and you wouldn't even go to see it because you had plans with a friend the night of the premiere?"

Rose blanched, seeming all at once to realize the extent of her own hurt feelings. She said nothing, let her shoulders sink with the weight of what she felt.

"Maybe someone should send him anonymous hatemail..." Harry spoke without thinking, blushing when he realized he was thinking out loud. Lucky for him, though, Rose found it funny. She shook her head at him but giggled despite incredulity.

"Please don't," she said. "Christ, though, maybe I’m more angry than I thought because I am tempted.”

"You should be! That was a dick move."

"God," she said after a moment. "You're right."

“Of course I am.” Harry chuckled, downplaying the moment to keep her from sinking again.

"You know, actually…” Rose smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. It was a good look on her, sweet Rosie almost never looked mischievous. "If he does decide to ditch me, I could use a date."

“Surely he won't completely ditch you," Harry said, brushing the insinuation off. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. "Come on."

"He might." Rose sighed, resting her chin in her hands, despondent. "He didn't even think twice before telling me that I could just go alone."

"God, what an ass." Harry paused, covering his mouth. "I didn't just say that."

A laugh slipped past Rose's lips at his serious reaction. Harry was relieved to see her laugh.

“It's totally okay, he is being an ass." She rubbed her face, collecting herself again, and added, "I'm sorry, by the way, if that would be weird... I just, I don't know."

"If what would be weird?"

"You coming to the gala with me. I didn't mean... You know."

Villa history hardly seemed like history, but Harry got her meaning. "No, not at all. I'd be honored to come.”

She smiled, radiant. Harry never realized before this that he could miss someone so much when they were right in front of him.

For the first time since she'd been hired at her organization, Rose left work early. She went straight home after lunch, practicing what she was going to say to Rafi the entire drive from the office. Harry was right, Rafi shouldn't have to be told how much the gala meant to Rose, it wasn't too much to ask for her to want him to be there. Or at the very least to expect some kind of remorse for not being there.

She knew he’d be home. During the weeks Rafi was off of work, he spent most of his time at the flat doing small press things over the phone and watching movies in his pajamas. Rose would almost envy all of his free time if she didn't love her job so much.

"Rose?" Rafi was standing in the kitchen, he called her name when she came in the door, surprised to hear her. "Put out all the fires?"

Rose resented the sardonic tone that crept at the edges of his voice. He had a bad habit of not taking her work seriously, of treating her just a bit like she was silly for working so hard when she didn’t need to be working at all.

She set her tote bag in a dining chair, keeping quiet. Rose didn't want to engage in an argument right away, even if she felt she had grounds to win it.

"I got a lot done," she said. "I want to talk, though.”

Rafi made a low noise in the back of his throat, a dismissive hum. “Aren’t you tired? You were out all night.”

He was right, she was exhausted. But as much as she wanted sleep, she didn’t want to do so before she’d at least attempted a resolution of the conflict. Part of her wished she'd taken a nap on the couch in her office. It wouldn't have been comfortable, but she might feel a touch more coherent if she had.

"You need your sleep, my love," Rafi said, his voice softening. He took a step toward her around the kitchen island and reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her face.

“Why don’t we talk after you get some rest? I promise it’ll go better if you’re not running on empty.”

Rose sighed, relenting almost immediately. As much as she didn’t want to have this conversation, she especially didn’t want to have it go poorly. She had a better chance of expressing herself properly if she was better rested.

“You’re right,” she said, letting him take her to bed.

The morning of Harry's interview, he was surprised to learn that he wasn't nervous. He was confident in the fact that he’d done good work. He deserved the job.

In his school years, working as an intern on the business side of things, Harry had always felt a little out of his depth. He’d never felt able to measure up to his coworkers or mentors, nor could he pinpoint what was missing. It was refreshing to be in a completely different position now, knowing he was the best man for his job.

As a celebration of his newfound confidence and an indulgence in a guilty fantasy, Harry bought an extra donut and cup of coffee from his favorite café on his way to the office. He took them straight up to the sixth floor and to Rose Prichard’s office.

When he reached her door, he realized that his hands were too full to properly knock. He laughed, gently knocking his head against the glass door to get her attention.

Rose’s smile when she saw him could have launched a thousand ships.

"What's this for?" She asked, letting him in and accepting the coffee and pastry bag as he offered them to her.

"It's a good luck breakfast!"

“That’s right, your interview is today, isn’t it?”

Harry loved that she’d remembered.

"Yes! And I'm, like, not nervous at all." He'd done a lot of practicing. A lot of late night hours in the office hoping to see Rose. When she didn't show, he’d at least been able to focus his energy on acing the coding test.

"You're gonna crush it." Rose took the lid off of her coffee, blowing it gently before taking a careful sip. “I don’t know why you brought me coffee as a good luck charm, but thank you.”

"Of course." Harry blushed. He liked doing things for her.

Harry took a seat on the small sofa opposite Rose's desk. In the time since he'd started working on her floor, he'd seen her reading or lounging on this couch just after the end of her work day. He'd wondered at first what she needed with a couch in her office, but it seemed that she got good use out of it. Her office was like a second home to her.

He wondered once or twice if she enjoyed being work more than she enjoyed being home.

"I meant to ask," Harry said, pulling Rose's attention back up from her computer monitor. She'd immediately returned to her email mid-conversation. She'd been a bit of a space case in the last couple of days, but her gala was approaching quickly and Harry knew she was constantly worrying about minor details. Harry knew she must be thinking about it all hours of the day. "How did the conversation with Rafi go?"

She gave Harry a guilty look and his heart sank. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“We didn’t really talk.”

“You didn’t…” Harry sounded more surprised than he felt. In the time that he’d known Rose, he’d never known her to be confrontational. She enjoyed keeping the peace, even if it meant swallowing her guts.

“I tried, but I was too tired that day to be coherent and then we only just brushed past it.” She resumed typing, keeping a level tone of voice as a show of nonchalance. “It just kept getting further and further away until it felt silly bringing it up again.”

“Are you still upset?”

She considered for a moment too long for the answer to be no, regardless of what she wanted to tell him.

“Rose.” Harry did his best impression of a stern parent. It didn’t suit him, but he persisted. “You’ve got to talk to him soon, doesn’t he leave for his trip this week?”

“Right.”

“Well there you are. He’s not going to fly back last minute if he doesn’t think this is important to you.” Harry kept what he wanted to say back. He wanted to remind her that Rafi should know better without being told. But he didn’t want Rose to think he was outright bashing her boyfriend by remaining so firmly against him. Even if Rafi objectively deserved the bashing.

“I’ll try to talk to him again,” Rose said. Harry wasn’t convinced.

“Promise?” He stood halfway to reach out to her, offering a pinky in a silly—but hopefully sincere—gesture of solidarity.

She rolled her eyes but locked her pinky with his. Her touch sparked electricity that traveled all the way to his bones. “I promise.”

Rose stormed into the apartment, dropping her keys and bag on the entry table with a clatter. She didn't want to lose any of the momentum she'd worked up in the car this time.

“We need to talk,” she said. Telling, not asking.

“What’s wrong, Rosie?” Rafi looked shocked, but he maintained a level voice. He was wearing nothing but a nice pair of silk pajama bottoms and had been relaxing in front of the TV when Rose barged in, flustered. All things considered, he was taking the intrusion in stride.

All in one breath, before she could even take a seat next to him on the couch, Rose said, “I’m upset about you not coming to my gala. Like, I know you have other things going on—which is fine. But you don’t even seem sad about it or sorry you’ll miss it.”

Rose stopped speaking just long enough to sit next to him on the couch, pulling one leg up next to her so that she could face him in her seat. She continued, “It’s really hurt my feelings, Raf. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it before, but…”

She trailed off, trying desperately to blink away tears. It had been made into a joke on Love Island that Rose cried easily and often, which made her all the more self-conscious now.

“Rosie…” Rafi reached for her, pulling her to scoot closer and lean into his bare chest. He closed his strong arms around her when she complied. Rose hated how her easy tears always toppled the balance of these types of conversations. How quickly the other party stopped taking her seriously when she started crying.

She didn’t want to be coddled, she wanted to be heard.

“Rosie, come here.” Rafi smoothed her hair down as she tried to collect herself, but her efforts were very nearly in vain. She felt hysterical.

“How long have you been holding onto this?” He asked.

The tears came faster. It had been almost two weeks since he’d told her about the film festival.

“I didn’t want to make it a thing,” she whimpered, feeling pathetic.

“It’s okay.” Rafi smoothed her hair again, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s alright, baby.”

The angry, frustrated part of her wondered if he was ever going to actually apologize or if he’d just continue to comfort her meaninglessly. He acted like she was upset at someone or something completely separated from him. Like he was saving her from her own sadness, detached from all meaning.

“Do you know what I mean, though?” Her rising anger kept the tears at bay long enough for her to speak again. “I feel dismissed.”

Rafi shook his head. “I know, but you’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”

Frowning, Rose said nothing. She pulled back, daring him to say what she knew was coming.

“Well, if I’d known sooner how much it meant to you I would have been able to change things but…” He trailed off. She got the gist. This wasn’t his fault anymore. He’d surely have been more considerate if she’d given him proper notice.

Rose cut him off. “So that’s it, then?” Her voice was soft, not malicious even if she deserved to be.

“I’m sorry,” Rafi said. He tried to reach for her arms again but she shook him off. “It’s out of my hands!”

Rose recoiled, sinking into herself once more. Speaking her mind hadn’t fixed anything, but at least she knew that she had a right to be angry. She stood, took quick steps towards the door. “I’m going back to work.”

“You’re not.” Rafi gave an incredulous laugh.

“I am.” She punctuated the sentence with the rattle of her keys being retrieved from the entry table. “This was my lunch break.”

“Rose, please.”

“If you can’t change anything, fine.” She opened the door, took a step outside. “Forget I said anything.”

Rose shut the door gently behind her, wishing she had the strength of conviction to slam it.

When Harry's interview ended and he was told that he'd be moved to the better postion, he was first thrilled, then struck by an odd desire to run directly to Rose's office to deliver the good news. He hadn’t even called his mother yet but, there he was, taking the elevator back up to the sixth floor.

He arrived to find that the lights had been turned off and Rose was no longer there. It was odd for her, to be gone this early in the day.

Harry knew that he should hope that she was talking to Rafi, finally getting the apology she deserved, but he wished despite this that she was just taking her lunch or in a meeting, that she’d be back before the end of the day.

Without Rose to share his news with, Harry went back to the first floor. He’d taken the rest of the day off for the interview, since it was scheduled after his lunch. His second instinct was to step outside and call his mom.

In front of the office building, Harry dialed his mom’s cell and took a seat on one of the large, concrete blocks that replaced actual benches in favor of a brutalist, corporate aesthetic.

“You have good news?” Harry’s mom had texted him a sweet good luck message that morning. She would be happy with him even if he hadn’t been given the job, but he was filled with pride to tell her that he had.

“I got the job,” he said. He smiled down at the cracks in the sidewalk, warmth rising to his cheeks at getting to say the thing out loud. “I’m really excited.”

“I’m proud of you,” his mom told him. He was overjoyed. “Really, good job, son.”

“Thank’s mom.” Harry kicked his legs, feeling unusually boyish despite his grown-up accomplishment. He looked up at the sky, trying to take in the moment. So much of him had changed in the last few years. It was like he could feel his frontal lobe developing in real time.

He’d grown into a man his mother was unequivocally proud of.

Harry’s mom told him about what she was cooking for dinner and about some home-town gossip and Harry listened patiently, happy for the distraction from wondering where Rose was.

When he finally hung up the phone, he almost didn’t believe his eyes when he looked up and saw her. It was as if Rose had been conjured from his mind and placed in the street in front of him.

“Rosie!” He hopped up from the bench, waving to get her attention before she entered the office building. He wasn't sure why the nickname had come to him, but it felt comfortable, like he’d said it a hundred times before.

She turned and the corner of her mouth budged into a hint of a smile. “What are you doing out here?”

He held up his phone, shook it for emphasis. “Calling my mom.”

The realization struck her and she gasped, dropping all casual pretense for sincere excitement. “Ah! Did you get the job?”

Harry flushed, head to toe, warm with pride like he’d taken a shot of liquor. He was sure his cheeks were tinged with pink, but he didn’t entirely mind.

“I did.”

“Oh my god!” Rose beamed at him. “Harry, that’s amazing!”

He didn’t remember the last time he’d heard her say his name, but the sound of it made him dizzy. He looked down, kicked at the air in front of his foot. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m really glad.”

“I’m glad for you! Are you coming back inside?” She asked. “Or did you take time off for the interview?”

“They told me I could take the day.” Emboldened by his recent luck, he asked, “Have you eaten lunch already?”

Since she’d taken her lunch break to try to talk to Rafi, Rose knew that the responsible thing would be to grab something from a vending machine, go back to her office, and resume work. She found that she didn’t want that, though. In direct contrast to the last few weeks, where she had felt safest while locked away in her office, Rose didn’t want to go back to work.

She wanted to go to the Pho place Harry suggested for lunch. To stay with him for the rest of the day. She felt uncharacteristically carefree when she had his positive attitude to bask in, and a woefully neglected piece of her wanted to hold onto the feeling for as long as she could.

As a compromise—because Rose couldn’t abandon the gala as much as she wanted to—she invited Harry up to her office and they ordered Pho to be delivered.

While they waited for their food, Rose answered emails and called vendors. She had no extra time to spare away from gala preparations. Harry was patient, chatted to her about her work when she could spare the focus and played a game on his phone when she couldn’t.

Rose enjoyed Harry’s company, even if they weren’t speaking.

When the food came, they cleared space on Rose’s desk to eat. It was cramped, since she didn’t want to get hot broth too near her computer. They had to sit on the same side of the desk, elbows bumping for the fact that Harry was left-handed.

“We could switch sides,” Harry said, giggling at yet another accidental bump.

Rose shook her head, giggling as she scooted a tiny bit away. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry my desk is only really built for one.”

“I don’t mind being cozy.” As if to prove his point, Harry bumped her elbow with his again, a playful jab. “But we wouldn’t have this problem if you traded me seats.”

“I didn’t know you were left handed.” She bumped him back. “Isn’t it weird how little we actually learned about each other? You know, on the show?”

In the nearly two weeks since they’d been reacquainted, neither of them had really mentioned the reality television shaped elephant in the room. It had been easy not to address their shared history, to let any past heartaches fade into the background. Rose wasn’t sure what made her bring it up, then.

Maybe it was getting harder to spend time with Harry without thinking about what it had been like to kiss him.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“I didn’t really know you were left-handed, to start.”

On Love Island, they hadn’t been allowed to talk about certain things early on. Their conversations were kept infuriatingly shallow until the end, manufacturing an artificial sense of closeness between the finalists and keeping drama front and center. Rose knew the basics; Harry was from York, he’d still been a student then. They’d swapped descriptions of their family dynamics and anecdotes about their studies. Harry had once bragged about how early he woke up every morning to recite positive affirmations.

Plastic kiddie pool shallow.

“To be fair, I was too busy trying to impress you to open up much,” Harry admitted. Rose stared down into her bowl, too startled by his honesty to meet his eyes. “I mean, that’s how everyone was, though.”

“Right, we didn’t get into a lot of deep conversations until the end.”

“No,” Harry chuckled. “I mean, everyone was trying to impress you.”

Rose turned, knitting her brows at him. She’d never understood this impression people had of her time on the show—that she’d been particularly well liked or desired. On some level, something like that had to be true for her to have won in the end, but she’d assumed that the popular vote had been won in large part by Rafi’s charisma, not her’s.

“Everyone was trying to impress everyone,” she told him. “But things were weird there, we had to be these silly, exaggerated versions of ourselves in order to stand out. I don’t feel like I really got to know anyone until after.”

“Does that include Rafi?”

“I think so,” Rose admitted. “Not entirely a bad thing, but... I don’t know, there’s a reason reality TV relationships don’t usually work out.”

Harry paused, a crease forming between his brows as he seemed to see through to the heart of Rose’s sudden nostalgic turn. “Did you talk to him?”

Rose sighed, nodded. She’d suspected that her feelings about the argument with Rafi would catch up to her eventually, but she’d hoped to at least finish lunch first.

“Here’s the thing,” Harry said. “If you don’t want to talk about it again, we don’t have to. But if you need to vent, I really do care for you, Rose.”

She could only bear to let the sincerity of his statement linger for a moment before it was too much.

“It didn’t go well,” Rose said. She could start there, understated. “I mean, basically exactly what you predicted happened.”

“Meaning?”

Tears welled in her eyes already. Rose wished for the second time that day that her heart were just a touch further from her sleeve.

“He said that if he’d known sooner then he could have changed his plans, but…” Her voice cracked and she trailed off, looking away from him in an attempt to preserve her pride.

When she looked back, Harry’s face was twisted into a deep frown, barely holding back anger. Then, seeing her eyes again, his gaze softened into a look of deep concern.

“Can I offer some unsolicited advice?” He asked.

Harry hated to see Rose cry.

Only once in the villa had she cried in front of him, but her easy tears had been made into a running joke by the producers and the narrator on the show. Harry remembered hearing the narrator joke about it for the first time, how furious it had made him. That had been one of the first things that made him want to distance himself from the franchise entirely.

“If I grant permission I don’t think it’s unsolicited advice anymore,” Rose joked, a sad attempt at a laugh bubbling from her chest. “But go ahead.”

“I think you should consider what this means for the rest of the relationship.” He wasted no time getting to the point. In the time since Rose’s first argument with Rafi, Harry had been consumed with desire to fix things for her. But he had his reasons to hesitate to get involved. He didn’t want to seem like he was rooting for a breakup or judging Rafi too harshly, even if he suspected that Rose didn’t know he still harbored feelings for her. Here he was, though, past the point of no return.

He continued, “Like, if you think you can accept that your feelings were hurt and that he’s probably not going to fix this, then you can move on. But if you can’t…” The insinuation hung between them without Harry having to say the words. He didn’t want to tell her to break up with him outright. Even if that was objectively what he thought she should do.

He expected Rose to reel back or offer some kind of rebuttal or defense of Rafi. She didn’t, though. Instead, she twisted her hands together in silence for a moment. Then, “God, Harry, when did you get so wise?”

Harry blushed, surprised at the comment. He’d never once been accused of being wise. “Oh, you know…”

Rose took a moment, silently collecting herself, brushing her eyes with the backs of her hands. She must wear very waterproof mascara, Harry imagined, the corner of his lip twitching up at the thought.

“What are you smiling at?” She narrowed her eyes, but cracked a smile at the same time, only selling her attempt at annoyance halfway.

“Is your mascara waterproof?” He asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Yes it is.”

Without thinking, he reached for her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You know, I hated how they made that a thing for you. On the show.” He pulled his hand back, cradling it in his lap as if to keep himself from reaching for her again. “It made me so mad seeing them trivialize your feelings the way they did.”

Rose gave him a doe-eyed look, like she didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Oh, um…” She wiped her eyes again then looked around the room to avoid eye contact. He remembered how she fled from moments of sincerity in the villa. How much Rafi had been required to push her to make her realize his feelings were genuine. “I appreciate that.”

Rose had feared conviction like this when she’d first moved in with Rafi. The conviction that she should break up with him without knowledge of where she would go if she did.

She resented the fact that the name on the lease was his. Since he paid most of the bills, it meant that she would be the one who would have to leave. Even if she’d been the one that spent the most time in the flat, making it a home.

After her lunch with Harry, Rose told him that she needed time to think and to focus on work. Even though a tiny part of her wanted him to push back and not leave her to herself, Harry absconded without protest.

Rose thought about texting Rafi and preparing him for a conversation when she got home, but she couldn’t work up the nerve. She finished her work for the day, tried not to think about the conversation ahead, drove home without a plan.

As she walked up the stairs to the front door, her phone dinged. A text from Harry wishing her luck. She walked into the flat smiling, grateful for Harry’s support.

The living room was dark, though, and Rafi was gone. Because he wasn’t in town much, he didn’t drive, so there was no way to judge whether or not he was home by a car outside the building.

Rose went to the bedroom and her office, just in case, but he was nowhere to be found. She was halfway through typing a text asking where he was when she saw the note on the kitchen counter.

Rose,

I had to catch a flight, they need me on set early. I’ll call you when I get in tonight.

Rafi

so sorry this was way more self indulgent and much longer than it needed to be. cheers.

tags: @starsarestars @lasswithumor

41 notes · View notes

dawnsbreaking · 2 years ago

Text

Harry spends Hanukkah Shabbat with Rose's family.

oneshot pairing: Harry/CMC Rose word count: 4,818 read on ao3 want to be tagged in future works?

NOTES this is *technically* a sequel to 'different, but the same', but it can be read as a one-shot! there are a few references to Rafi, but you just have to know know that this is a post-villa fic in which Rose (MC) won Love Island in a couple with Rafi.

also, this is a Hanukkah fic and I am not sure that many people in the fandom are Jewish, so all of the terms that aren't defined in the text are defined below. the fic is entirely in Harry's POV so as to be easily understood from an outside perspective.

thank you for reading, if you do! this is one of those fics that was written because I, the author, am the target audience. so it's maybe a bit more niche than anything I've posted before.

*** glossary Shabbat/Shabbos - (Shabbat is the proper term, Shabbos is yiddish, used colloquially) a weekly holiday celebrated by Jewish people from sundown on Friday night to sundown on Saturday night. if the holiday is fully observed, certain tasks are forbidden in order to keep the holiday. in reform communities like mine (and the Prichard's), observance varies. some reform Jews may choose just to limit use of electronic devices in the spirit of the holiday, like Rose does in the fic. Chag sameach - (khag sam-ay-agh) lit. happy festival/happy holiday

“Good morniiing,” Rose drawled, traipsing into Harry’s new office with her coat slung over her arm. It was snowing outside and Rose still had a few telltale flecks of white dusting the ends of her hair that hadn’t been covered by her coat’s hood. She was still carrying her work bag, too. She must have come straight to him from outside. She was unusually chipper for so early in the morning.

Harry leaned back in his desk chair, regarding her with a questioning look. The giant office chair he’d inherited from his boss made him feel just a bit like a Bond villain. He’d be right at home with a mean, white cat in his lap.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Enjoying the weather?” Rose asked, avoiding his eyes as she crossed to the window. The sill was wide enough that she could perch comfortably against the glass and watch the steady traffic six floors below them.

When Harry had taken over as lead for his current project, his boss had pulled strings to get him an office on the same floor as Rose’s. Carl Sullivan, chief operations manager for LI-Com, had turned out to be a closeted superfan of Love Island. He’d told Harry on one or two occasions that Rose had been one of his favorite winners of any past season. That only barely lessened the blow of Carl having forgotten Harry’s appearance on the show completely.

Harry watched the snow fall just past his girlfriend, waiting for her to tell her why she was acting strange.

“I’m not a fan of snow,” he said, prompted by a too-long silence.

She whirled around, finally meeting his eyes, flashing an impish grin. “Me neither.”

“You’re acting weird, Rosie.” He reached for her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. It wasn’t often anymore that Harry had to worry about Rose being upset. They hardly fought and even when they did disagree, both of them were too honest to let things build for very long before addressing the issue. It helped that Rose knew he could see right through her.

Rose frowned, caught in playing up a carefree attitude Harry knew she didn’t mean. “I’m just a bit nervous to ask you something.”

This was a surprise. They’d been together officially for seven months and had overcome most of the big milestones, leaving very little to be nervous about. Harry had met her brother, she’d had dinner with Harry’s family when they’d come to visit. His parents loved her. That only left…

“The professors want you to come to Shabbos dinner during Hanukkah,” Rose blurted, confirming his suspicion before the thought had even fully formed.

The professors were Rose’s parents. Rose’s mother was a literature professor who primarily taught courses on Shakespeare while her father taught in the anthropology department at the same university. Rose and her siblings referred to them affectionately by this joint nickname, as did most of their family friends.

Harry had yet to meet the professors, but Rose spoke of them fondly. He didn’t see a reason for Rose’s nerves.

“I’d love to.” He dropped her hand, reaching instead to smooth the crease between her brows with his thumb. “What are you worried about?”

“Hanukkah’s late this year, Shabbos overlaps with Christmas eve.”

Harry failed to see the problem. He liked Christmas, sure, but spending a good portion of his childhood in the foster system had placed his expectations for the holiday nigh underground. He also enjoyed the parts of Rose’s religion that had seeped into his life through her. He’d thoroughly enjoyed the few Shabbat dinners she’d hosted at her apartment when her brother was in town.

He liked eating the food that Rose and John cooked and watching Rose light the candles, as well as the quiet evenings together that followed.

Growing up reform with lenient parents, Rose didn’t strictly keep the rules of the Shabbat, but she occasionally enforced a no-electronics rule for the weekends she held dinners. To an outsider like Harry, the traditions were ideal. Good food, no work, no outside distractions.

The only downside was not getting to play video games, but Rose and John made up for it by playing Magic the Gathering or short Dungeons and Dragons campaigns with him—analogue nerdiness, it seemed, was totally kosher.

“I don’t mind,” Harry said. “My parents are staying for Christmas in York and I wasn’t planning on travelling to see them this year.”

“You’re sure?” Rose perked up a bit but, as always, she was slow to trust an easy break.

Harry knew that the Holiday season was annoying to Rose and that she harbored some frustration about constantly being overlooked as someone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Her hesitation made sense, it might seem like a hard ask to prioritize one holiday over another.

He also wondered if, on some level, she saw this as another milestone itself. It could be difficult, he imagined, to let someone into a tradition that so few people understood.

“Of course I’m sure,” Harry said, choosing his words carefully. “I’m excited to meet your parents. And Juliet.”

He had yet to meet Rose’s younger sister, either. From what Rose had told him, he knew that she was in her first year of University, studying Marine Biology and she sounded every bit as fun and interesting as her siblings.

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure I’m ready for you to meet Jules. She’s probably got dirt on me that she’s dying to share.”

“That’s exactly why I’m excited to meet her,” Harry teased.

“God. Okay.” Rose laughed, standing from the windowsill. “I’ll let them know we’re coming, then.”

She glanced sideways, checking through the glass door of Harry’s office for watchful eyes. Finding the coast clear, she bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Rose was always chaste when she kissed him in the office and people were around, she was a rule-follower to the highest degree. Harry only sometimes wished she’d indulge him in being less careful.

She pulled away. No such luck today.

“Love you,” she said, ruffling his hair.

Harry grumbled, “Do you have to do that every morning?”

“I do.” Rose laughed. “It falls right back into place, doesn’t it?”

His coarse hair required very little styling, it fell in whichever direction it had dried.

“Even still.”

She gave him an expectant look and he relented. He could never pretend to be mad at her for very long, even if it was funny.

“Love you, too. Give the professors my regards.”

“Attaboy. Will do.”

She was out the door, leaving just the faintest trace of her glow lingering around Harry. He was excited for this step in their relationship. He loved her, and meeting her parents and participating in her traditions were both new ways to experience her. He couldn’t wait to see his favorite person in a whole new light.

The train journey from London to Cambridge was just over an hour. Harry played games on his phone while Rose listened to an audiobook. She couldn’t read on the train or in a carwithout getting sick so, any time they traveled, she listened to books while resting her head on Harry’s shoulder, watching whatever game he was playing.

FuryStone mobile wasn’t as fun as the real thing, but it was good for passing the time.

“Are you nervous?” Rose asked, pausing her book when they were nearing their stop.

Harry considered for a moment, taking Rose’s hand and threading their fingers together. She’d painted her nails one of the usual colors—light blue, as opposed to her other favorite, sage green. He loved all the things about her that were becoming predictable to him now. The way she alternated nail polish colors and the way she checked on in him when she needed reassurance herself.

“I’m a bit nervous to meet your parents, yeah, but I’m mostly excited,” he said. “Are you alright?”

She squeezed his hand, grateful that he’d caught onto her mood. “It’s just been a bit since I’ve seen my parents. No big deal.”

“Then it’ll be alright, then?”

Harry felt her nod, her hair tickling his face as she did. She was still leaning to the side, head resting against his shoulder.

“You know how I was shy and hard to read at first?” Rose asked.

“At first?”

She let out a sharp breath, as close to a laugh as Harry was going to get under current circumstances. “Right. Well, my parents are like that. Mum’s going to ask you a hundred questions about your favorite Shakespeare play and Dad’s hardly going to speak at all.”

“What if I haven’t got a favorite Shakespeare play?”

Rose pulled away, face gravely serious. “Did you read one in school?”

“I don’t remember anything about any of them, bar maybe Romeo and Juliet.”

“Oh god, don’t say Romeo and Juliet. Despite the fact that she named two of her children after characters from Romeo and Juliet, Mum’s got some strong negative opinions. Not pleasant.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“Hamlet. Just agree with anything she says about Ophelia or Gertrude and you’re golden.”

“And you couldn’t have given me time to study?”

Rose huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Not worth it. She’ll lose you in the first ten seconds but she’ll probably make a comment about that being my favorite Shakespeare play and then I can save you.”

“Hamlet’s your favorite Shakespeare play?”

“That and Much Ado, every Prichard’s got to have at least one.”

“Christ.” Harry chuckled. “I feel like I’m understanding you more by the second.”

Rose glared. “How do you mean?”

“You’ve got all these idiosyncrasies—which I love—but I think I’m beginning to trace the origins of them.”

“Hah.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, also, no referring to Hanukkah as ‘Jewish Christmas’ or anything of the like. That’s annoying and my dad will lecture you on the historical significance of the holiday. You’ll get a few words out of him but at great cost.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the train pulled into the station, Rose checked her phone. Her brother and sister were supposed to be picking them up.

“Jules says they’re already here,” Rose said. “Bless her. If it were just John in charge of being on time we’d have been waiting for ages.”

Outside, standing against the bumper of a little blue coupe was John and Juliet, recognizable only by the fact that she looked like if Rose were shrunken a bit and dipped in pink. The mousey brown hair shared by the twins was missing on Juliet, instead her hair was bleached and dyed a convincing strawberry blonde. Her bright raspberry coat was made even brighter by the light snow falling around them.

“Jules! Your hair!” Rose shouted, taking faster yet still careful steps toward her sister. So the color was new.

Juliet smiled, flipping the shoulder-length curls with the back of a well-manicured hand. “It’s cute, right?”

While the girls caught up, Harry clapped John on the shoulder. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too!” He smiled wide. Speaking with John Prichard was a little like looking at Rose in a funhouse mirror. If Rose’s usual energy level was a four or five, her brother broke the scale. He was lively, bordering on hyperactive. But the twins had the same crinkles around their eyes when they grinned.

He’d heard stories of Rose and John’s childhood escapades, and about John’s tendency to overshadow his sister in social situations. Harry saw that first hand, too. The insecurities Rose talked about sometimes made perfect sense when confronted with her twin.

Of course she didn’t feel like the brightest person in the room when she’d spent most of her life in lock-step with someone who naturally demanded so much attention.

Harry had grown fond of John, though. Even if he reserved the right to choose Rose as his favorite Prichard twin forever and always.

John asked, “Did Rosie warn you about Shakespeare?”

“Yep. Hamlet’s my favorite.”

“Is it really?” He bounced on the balls of his feet with the question. Golden retriever, this boy was. Full of energy.

Harry laughed. “Nope, but Ro’s got good taste.”

“Harry.” Rose pulled him by the hand over to Juliet, disregarding her brother entirely. “This is my sister.”

“Hello,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake.

“Jules, this is Harry.”

“The boyfriend!” Jules gave his hand a firm pump, she’d put every businessman Harry had ever met to shame. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

It was almost a farce, seeing his sweet, gentle, analytical Rose next to her own flesh and blood—two of the most energetic personalities he’d ever met.

The image became even more strange when Harry met the professors. In direct contrast to John and Juliet, Barbara and Martin Prichard were exactly what Harry would expect from Rose’s relatives.

They were shy introducing themselves, soft voices and careful smiles. Harry hoped they would warm up to him as he got to know them, he couldn’t imagine that they’d possibly stay so reserved all weekend.

There was also the other thing. The reality television consideration. Harry tried his level best not to think about the fact that the professors once watched him make out with their daughter on a roof terrace. And a daybed. And there was that time in the pool…

“Everything okay, baby?” Rose squeezed his hand as she pulled him aside to put their things away and wash up for dinner.

Rose led him down the hall and into a bedroom. The walls were painted a powdery blue and a shelf of young adult books stood in the corner. Otherwise, the room housed only a double bed and nightstand.

“Your old bedroom?” Harry asked, hopeful he’d get a good snoop in before their visit was finished.

“Kinda. John and I switched a lot.”

He gestured to the bookshelf. “Your books?”

“Mostly.” Rose tried again, “Are you alright?”

“Just remembering how much we made out on the telly.” Harry shrugged, though the warmth of a blush found his cheeks. “Forgot about that ’til just a second ago.”

“I…” Rose giggled. “I’ve got to put that so far out of mind. I think Johnny made them skip steamier bits, at least.”

“Were we ever steamy enough to skip, you reckon?” He looped an arm around her waist, pulling her in. The question was mostly rhetorical, he knew that they’d only done just enough to make him embarrassed to meet her family. The real steamy bits would have been later, with Rafi.

Rose completed the embrace, tucking her head in the crook of his neck, soft giggles of embarrassment escaping as the absurdity of the situation occurred to her.

“I promise my parents aren’t being weird because of all the times they saw us snogging on Love Island,” she said, lips grazing Harry’s collarbone as she spoke. “They really are just aloof at first.”

“Do you think they’ll like me by the time we leave?” Just beneath the diverting tone of the question, there was a real hint at a fear there. Rose’s parents hadn’t just seen him kissing her on Love Island. They’d also seen him pieing her off for other girls, breaking up with her for silly reasons, angry and jealous when she chose Rafi over him. He wanted to make a good impression with the Prichards, but a worse version of him had gotten a head start.

“Baby.”

Harry loved when Rose called him that. Her soft voice instantly put him more as ease. He pulled her tighter to him, breathing her in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think I was nervous before but...“ He trailed off.

“I promise they love you already. They hear how fondly I talk about you.” Rose kissed his cheek and pulled back, looking into his eyes, cheeks tinged pink from the effort of sincerity.

“Alright.” Harry gave her a decisive nod, full of newfound determination at her encouragement. “Let’s get cleaned up, then.”

It only took Rose’s mother an hour of mingling in the kitchen to ask Harry about his favorite Shakespeare play. He answered as Rose had instructed, earning Barbara’s approval.

Rose swooped into the conversation before her mum could get too deep into the weeds of a dissertation on the women of Hamlet. “Are we making challah or did you buy it?”

She was rolling up her sleeves and rounding the kitchen island after a mixing bowl on the counter as if she anticipated the answer. When Barbara confirmed that, yes, they were going to bake challah fresh, Rose clapped her hands together.

“I’ll do it, then. Clear out.”

As Harry made for the living room with John, Rose stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not you, you can help,” she said. In direct contrast to her usual characteristic meekness, Rose seemed at ease with her family, holding her own and taking charge of interactions. He liked seeing the sense of humor that he usually shared with her in private come out for other people she cared for, too.

Harry washed his hands as Rose instructed and joined her at the counter where she was already assembling ingredients for dough from the cabinets and fridge.

“Doing alright?” She asked, passing him a metal whisk and a small bowl.

“Doing alright,” Harry affirmed.

Rose’s parents were already more cordial with him after a short time, so he reckoned he’d make it through the holiday dinner unscathed. He focused his attention on following Rose’s instructions, surprised she could put together bread entirely without a recipe.

“I love doing the cooking at things like this,” Rose said, finally breaking the silence as she folded the mixture in a bowl and dough began to form.

Harry hadn’t done much of the work, but he enjoyed the quiet moment with her while her family chatted without them a room away.

“For the same reason you like working at all the parties you attend?” He punctuated the question with a tap on her nose, purposefully leaving a tiny flour fingerprint.

Rose frowned, leaning over to wipe the dust on the shoulder of Harry’s t-shirt without missing a beat. “Exactly. it’s good stage business.”

“Stage business?”

“That’s what John calls it, at least. Like, stuff actors do on stage to seem busy. It’s nice to have something to do for the sake of it.”

“Ah.” Harry didn’t have a great grasp on the depth of Rose’s social anxiety. He’d seen the edges of it and heard her talk about it, but the thought of what she might be feeling always surprised him. She was put-together on the outside, so he never quite knew what to think when she shared coping strategies for problems he wouldn’t even guess that she had.

It didn’t help that he wasn’t an anxious person, that he couldn’t even guess at her feelings from personal experience. He was completely in the dark with no choice but to accept the information as it came to him and do his best to mitigate the effects when Rose allowed it.

He wished more than anything that he’d understood this when they first met. There may have been less heartache for both of them if he’d known about her tendency to duck and evade conflict or perceived her discomfort in social situations enough keep her from being overwhelmed.

For the most part, Harry did his best not to harbor regrets about how he and Rose came together. He’d needed the extra time between the villa and the present to become the right man for her, and she’d needed the time with Rafi to discern what it was she needed from a partner. Even still, it was tempting to imagine all of the ways he might have mitigated harm if he’d been a bit less self-absorbed.

“Would you wash these while I knead the dough?” Rose asked, gesturing with an elbow toward the bowls and utensils they’d used as she spread a layer of flour out on the countertop.

Harry nodded, taking the dishes to the sink, wondering presently if she was assigning stage business for the anxiety he’d expressed earlier.

With the challah sorted—Jules insisted that she do the braid instead of the elder Prichard sister—Harry and Rose went to the living room where John was engaging in a playful argument with his parents while scrolling through Netflix.

"We always watch the David Tennant one when we're together, I've seen it a billion times." Rose jumped in, catching the gist of the disagreement immediately. "We watch that one because it's good. I'm completely game."

"Ugh." John rolled his eyes with a great measure of drama before settling his gaze intently on Harry. "We should let the guest have a say." Harry laughed. Though he wasn't entirely sure what was going on, he trusted his girlfriend's judgement. "I'm going to side with Rosie, sorry."

"Dammit."

"You're outnumbered, kid." Barbara stood from the couch, smiling at having gotten her way. Harry recognized the expression from his own opinionated Prichard.

"I'm going to start dinner," she said, "but unless we want to keep Shabbat, I think we should follow tradition." "Exactly." Rose grinned, taking a seat on the couch and motioning for Harry to join her. "Tradition." Harry leaned over, murmuring to Rose for clarification, "What did I just agree to?" "We're watching a BBC dramatization of Hamlet after dinner. It's tradition."

"Oh good," Harry chuckled, "I'll finally get to see my favorite play."

John wheeled around, eyes wide with a facetious look of fear. "Don't let mum hear you."

At that moment, Rose's father, Walter, spoke, looking up over the top of a paperback science fiction novel. The man had yet to say more than five words since Harry's arrival. "Ro tells all her friends to say Hamlet. Mum sees through it anyhow."

"Then why does she still ask?" Rose ssked, though she didn't seem surprised to learn that her Shakespeare coaching had been in vain.

Walter shrugged. "S'pose she's holding out hope someone’ll say Romeo and Juliet. She loves to give that play hell."

"See." Rose took Harry's hand, giving him a playful smile. "Told you she's got nasty opinions about that one."

"Could be worse," John cut in, "she's even more weird about Macbeth—“ Rose darted a glare at her brother and he amended: “—er, the Scottish play."

It was at this point that Harry realized he was in just a bit over his head. The twins were trading inside jokes about Shakespeare, laughing about theatre traditions and their parents' superstitions. Strangely, though, Harry wasn't uncomfortable being left out. He liked seeing Rose like this. And, even if he only understood about half of what the twins said, the cadence and animation with which the jokes were delivered was enough to make him laugh and try to follow along.

“Anyway. We’re not in the theatre, I can say Macbeth all I want,” John concluded after a short pause.

“But all the world’s a stage,” Rose argued, “so…”

“That’s enough.” John chuckled. “You’re scaring your boyfriend.”

Harry shook his head adamantly, though he realized that he must seem shell-shocked in his uncharacteristic silence. “No, I’m enjoying the banter, even if I don’t completely follow.”

“It’s bad luck to say Macbeth in the theatre,” John explained, “but Mum and Rosie insist it’s bad luck in general.”

“I didn’t think you were superstitious,” Harry teased. He squeezed Rose’s hand for emphasis, giggling at the resulting pensive glare.

“I’m not, it’s just the principal of the thing, you know?”

“Right.”

Rose blushed, scrunching her nose as she glared between Harry and her brother. “Oh, now you’re both making fun of me. Forget it.”

“Forgotten,” John quipped. He tossed one game controller at the couch where it landed just next to Harry and then another gently into his sister’s lap. “Let’s play a few rounds before dinner, yeah?”

After a few rounds of FuryStone—and an agonizing conversation trying to explain the lore of the game to Rose’s father, who asked strangely specific questions about the game’s fantasy world—Rose volunteered herself and Harry to set the table.

Rose did most of the work, particular about the aesthetic of the place setting, while Harry stood back in the kitchen, chatting with Jules.

“Is this your first time celebrating Hanukkah?” Jules asked, rifling through a drawer in search of a box of matches.

“Yeah, my family did a non-denominational sort of Christmas growing up. They’re atheists, though.”

“Ah, well it’s nice of you to spend your Christmas here with Ro.” Jules paused, examining Harry as if sizing him up for what she was about to say. Finally, seeing him fit for the remark, she added: “She’s not invited anyone home for Jewish holidays before. It’s sweet she feels comfortable for you to be included.”

Harry could feel himself blushing. He gave Jules a noncommittal thanks and made a mental note to run this information past Rose later. He understood, though, the impulse to guard things like family and culture.

It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before meeting Rose, but he wanted to let her into those parts of his life, too, when he got the chance. Perhaps his parents would let them visit to celebrate the Lunar New Year in January. If not, he thought, he and Rose could still celebrate together at home. The idea excited him, the beginnings of building a life and sharing traditions with Rose.

“Jules, would you mind if Harry and I did the menorah candles?” Rose asked, ducking in from the dining room. “I know you usually do because you’re the youngest, but—”

“Nah, I’m not bothered,” Jules interjected, “I’ll do the Shabbos ones if Mum doesn’t want to.”

“Right, then, we’re all set up.” Rose checked her watch. “Sundown is soon.”

Jules took her hint, handing Rose the box of matches before moving quickly to gather the rest of the family in the living room. Left alone, Rose came to Harry’s side, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“I love you,” she said, speaking into his chest.

Harry chuckled with surprise, squeezing her shoulders. “I haven’t done anything.”

She looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “I just love that you slot right in with my family.”

“Hardly. I feel a bit out of place.”

“No, I just mean... I don’t know—” Rose shook her head, frowned as she tried to find the words. “There’s no one I’d rather have here with me. Thank you for being here.”

“Ah.” Harry swallowed, overwhelmed just a touch by her declaration. He managed finally, “I love you too.”

Getting to help light the menorah felt only a little less special to Harry after Rose explained that it was a task assigned to children in their house. He didn’t care, though, he was excited to have a hand in the tradition.

It was the fifth night of Hanukkah, which meant that they’d only be lighting six candles. One, Rose explained, was the shamash or the helper candle, used to light the other five.

After listening to Rose’s family recite the blessing, Harry and Rose lit the candles. He held the shamash as Jules lit it with a match, then Rose covered his hand with hers to guide him lighting the other five. It was a bit cumbersome, since he was left-handed and therefore obligated to use his left hand while Rose helped with her right, but they managed it without major issue—Rose standing just in front of Harry so they could reach more easily.

By the time they finished, Harry was beaming, watching the lights flicker in the windowsill.

“Chag sameach,” Rose said, kissing his cheek. “Now, let’s have dinner.”

A similar ritual to the menorah lighting took place at the dinner table, this time one Harry was familiar with. The family again recited another blessing while Jules lit the two Shabbat candles on their holders placed at the center of the table. Then, they blessed the bread and wine before finally having dinner.

Latkes were Harry's favorite, little potato pancakes that he paired, like Rose, with sour cream. John favored applesauce with them, to which the rest of the family greatly objected.

In direct contrast to the picture Harry's anxiety had painted for him earlier in the day, Rose's parents were completely at ease--if a little quiet--around him. They asked him questions about his job and how he and Rose had come to be reacquainted, all of which were fun and easy to answer. They also tactfully avoided any mention of Love Island, giving Harry the benefit of having grown out of his broadcasted flaws. In the light of the candles, this moment was better than his best case scenario.

He took Rose's hand under the table and held it in his lap. He loved being hers.

thank you again for reading <3 if you are Jewish, happy Hanukkah! happy holidays, otherwise!! I hope to have more holiday fics out soon but I was happy to get this out on schedule. thank you, also, to all of the sweet people in the server that encouraged this little bit of self-indulgence, it was definitely a good break from the other things I'm working on.

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