#borhap imagine

Visiting Joe on set was a common thing in your relationship from the moment you both knew it was serious. You loved seeing him work and he loved having you around in between takes or during his breaks, it became such a special thing in your relationship that he proposed on one of your visits. He was lucky enough to be shooting on location that day, a beach to be exact, it was also a night shoot, and he took the opportunity during the first break. It wasn’t elaborate at all, but you didn’t see it coming and were genuinely surprised and, in your eyes, it was the perfect proposal.

However, once you had a baby you knew you had to stop visiting on set as often as you did, he always insisted that your daughter could go and be on set with him that you could stay at his trailer while he was busy, you on the other side didn’t feel comfortable with having your baby in an unknown environment surrounded by strangers, it would overwhelm her and you knew that a quiet set and colicky fussy baby wasn’t a good combination.

“Just let her grow up a bit” you told him “I promise you that once I feel sure enough that she won’t be a bother for the crew we’ll be there.”

“Fine” he huffed holding the six-month-old baby close to his chest.

Joe was about to start a new production, the first one since he took a break during your pregnancy and first few months of Grace’s life. He didn’t want to leave both of you he wasn’t ready but how could he ever be ready to leave his little family?

Time passed and your beautiful baby girl was now three, almost four, years old and she hadn’t seen her dad at work not once due to the agreement you had with Joe. From day one he was more than ready to have Grace on set with him, but he also knew that you had to be same page as him and, so far, you hadn’t changed your mind.

“Okay I gotta go” he said taking one last bite to his breakfast. He had been casted as John Deacon on the Queen biopic, and you had come with him this time before Grace started preschool.

He kissed you goodbye and kissed his daughter’s head quickly “Bye princess.”

“Bye daddy!” she replied with a giggle.

An idea crossed your mind, Grace was old enough to understand what being quiet meant and most of the time she was a well-behaved toddler. Yes, she threw tantrums, was an energetic ball hard and it was sometimes hard to keep up with her, but she wasn’t anything you couldn’t control if the situation needed it plus the most stressful shot of the whole movie had already been done so you wouldn’t be making Joe even more nervous.

“You wanna go see daddy?” you asked her with a smile. Her eyes lit up so quickly and she nodded.

You cleaned up the kitchen and got Grace ready to go. You took one of those set passes that Joe always get you and drove to where they would be shooting.

“Okay baby we have to be really quiet” you told her in a whisper “we want to keep this a surprise, okay?”

“Quiet” she giggled in the same tone as you with her index finger on her mouth.

They were shooting the first concert they ever had with Freddie as a front man and Deaky as bass player. It was a closed set so you couldn’t go in while the neon sign outside said that they were filming.

“And cut!” the director yelled “take a break everybody, I’ll let you know if need another shot.”

On your side the neon sign went off so it meant that you could go inside with your little girl in your arms.

“Do you see who’s there?” you asked Grace putting her down.

“Daddy!” she giggled running to him. Even with a long wig and 70’s clothing she recognized him. He was a daddy’s girl after all.

“Grace!” Joe exclaimed completely ignoring Ben, who was a having a conversation with him, he quickly picked her daughter up. “What are you doing here? Where’s your momma?”

“I thought she was old enough to visit you” you answered walking up to him.

“So, we finally get to meet little Mazzello today?” the blonde man asked. The whole cast had met you but not Grace though they had seen plenty of photos thanks to Joe.

“I-yeah I mean I guess” Joe was still processing the surprise. This is all he ever wanted a ’bring your child to work’ day “this is Grace”.

“Uncle Rami!” she exclaimed once he saw him.

“Want to stay with Uncle Rami?” Joe asked her to which she agreed.

Joe gave Grace to Rami and let him introduce her to Ben and Gwilym while he talked to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” he asked.

“If I had, then you wouldn’t be surprised” you smiled.

“Believe me I’m shocked” he sighed not trying to hide his smile “what made you change your mind?”

“I just thought why not” you shrugged “you’ve wanted her on a set with you for such a long time.”

“I think she likes it here” you said when you saw her play with Joe’s costars.

“Yeah” he smiled “after this scene I have an actual break so we can spend time in my trailer yeah?”

You nodded everyone seemed to be going back to their places, so you had to go fetch Grace.

“Sorry gentlemen but I think we’re not needed here” you said picking up your girl from Ben’s arms.

“Pretty” she squealed out of nowhere. You weren’t sure if it meant Ben or the wigs they were wearing.

“You think I’m pretty?” Ben spoke and she nodded making Joe eyes wide. Ben wouldn’t let Joe forget this one.

That night had been full of the glitz and glamour of the Queen scene; the mansion was dripping in jewels and spilled champagne, glitter on the floor and sticking to the high heels of all the models invited. She, however, wasn’t a model.

She was the confidant, the best friend. The woman every tabloid turned to when they wanted an answer about her boys. She looked better than her part. A beautiful emerald green dress with a low neckline and a high slit against her leg. Freddie had given it to her, told her to wear a tiara. Made her look like a princess from the roaring 20s.

It was fun. Beautiful, even, the kind of chaos that transcended everything. The drinks and the drugs flowed as easily through people as water would. Roger was at the bar in his dashing white suit, committing at least two felonies in front of a group of giggling women. Brian was in the corner of the room playing his guitar along with the booming music playing from the speakers, intent on impressing the guests. Deaky was standing awkwardly next to a server, clutching onto his wife Veronica like he had been expecting a much smaller party.

And Freddie? The King himself was dancing through the bodies that swayed with ecstasy and a fleeting feeling of important. His crown was crooked on his head, his shoulders looking light despite the heavy royal cape dragging behind him. He had an overflowing glass of champagne in either hand, his feet moving ever so gracefully, successful in not spilling or wasting a drop.

It was different than it used to be. It was like none of them even realized she was here anymore. A part of her didn’t used to mind it; she knew exactly who she was.

Nobody.

But once she had been somebody— at least to them she had been. She sipped on a daiquiri while leaning her back against the wall, feeling so small. She remembered helping Brian study for an exam in university, and giving a lift to Roger in the middle of the AM when a girl had pushed him out of her bedroom window. Deaky used to take her for tea and he’d let her draw him sometimes when she was bored.

None of them were the same anymore. They were rock stars now, believing they were gods. Her home had very suddenly become very quiet at night, walking through the door alone. They all used to be there, ready with pizza and drinks on a Friday night, her record player already on.

Ophelia knew too much. It made her miss the old days when it was clear they were never ever coming back. She used to think being a distant friend to those she loved was better than nothing. But as she set her delicate glass down on a side table and took a deep breath, she knew she had to let it go.

This party was too much. It was all too damn much.

Gently tugging the tiara from her hair, plucking pins out from her strands with her white gloves, she carefully but quickly avoided collision. The front door seemed so far away.

Just like everything else.

She disappeared into the night, took her keys straight from the valet and asked to be pointed in the direction of her car. She didn’t want to be here anymore. She didn’t want to be a part of it.

Ophelia stayed beneath the hot water of her shower for an hour that night. Made sure to wash away every last remnant of mascara and glitter that wanted to stick to her skin. She hid the dress in the back of her closet, put on the kettle, and stayed in her bed until noon the next morning.

No phone calls came until a week later.

They mainly came from Veronica, and then from Deaky. No one else called for a little while after that. No one questioned her absence or noticed it. For that period of time, she felt at peace. She went to work each day, buying coffee on the way. No one knew who she was when she was herself. And she realized for the first time in a long time that she didn’t have to pretend to live in their world.

If they wanted to leave her behind, maybe it was time.

Everyone had their time, when the clock on their relationship would run out and the door would gradually close shut. She had been waiting for it for a long time, and could hear the timer in the background since the day they signed their first record deal.

It was time.

And it wasn’t until she found Freddie standing outside of her apartment one evening that she realized it had to be final.

There were no bodyguards, no paparazzi. He stood against her blue door with his fancy clothes and shades covering his eyes, and he didn’t look anything like the Freddie Bulsara she had once made pinky promises with.

“Where have you been, darling?” Freddie asked without saying hello. He puffed on a cigarette.

She felt her palms sweat in the pockets of her coat, and it was more than the humidity of a London February. “I’ve been busy.” Her voice wasn’t as quiet as she thought it might be.

He frowned at her. “I’ve been busy, too. Touring the world, making history. Becoming a legend,” he casually mentioned, pulling the sunglasses down so she could see his eyes. They were slightly glazed over. “Yet I’m here.”

“No,” Ophelia told him, taking her keys and pushing past him. She pressed it into the lock. “You’re not here. The frontman of Queen is here— not my friend. And they are two very different people.”

As she turned the handle to her apartment door, Freddie scoffed and tossed his cigarette into a plant in the corridor. “Darling, I am Queen. I’m not sorry you’re just jealous.”

It took everything in her power not to kick her front door open and slam it shut behind her. Some would say not to burn bridges. But she felt, if necessary, like letting the kerosene kiss it on the lips so she could watch something better be reborn from the ash. Her friend used to make her happy. But there was always more than one way to cross the water.

If needed, she would do it all by herself.

“Leave, Freddie,” she told him. “I’m not jealous— I miss you. And if you don’t know the difference anymore then we don’t know each other anymore.”

A sneer grew on his beautiful face. He wasn’t himself. “You’ll never get another chance in your life. You’ll regret this day when you see us on a yacht, wearing bathing suits that cost more than you could earn in two years.”

Ophelia gave him a small smile. “I never stuck around for the money, Freddie.”

And then swiftly, the door clicked shut between them both. She listened to his fist pound on the other side for a few seconds before listening to his curses recede down the hallway. It felt like a weight was lifted from her chest, but she couldn’t help but feel sad.

The tears pooled in her eyes. She shrugged off her coat and sat at the window, finally seeing the cameras that had found him. He didn’t try moving through them or past them. He liked the attention; and there was nothing wrong with that, except it was the only thing that gave him life now. The only air he could breathe.

She could hear their shouts from down there. All were asking about his sour face and saying how they had seen her dash out of the party a few weeks ago. He listened to them, cracking a joke or two. But then, when they fell silent enough for him to truly speak, he chose words less than kind.

“The bitch can drown in her self-pity for all I care.”

And as Freddie laughed his drug-soaked laugh, she found herself darting to her closet and back to the window. She tore it open, tears down her cheeks. A flicker of rage made for a moment she wouldn’t be proud of.

But Ophelia threw her hand out the window and watched the beautiful emerald fabric float beautifully, tragically, over the small crowd. It landed in a fresh puddle, the mud immediately soaking its beauty. Diminishing it, and effectively ridding herself of any commitment to see him again.

His open mouth said it all. Perhaps Freddie had thought this would be one of their petty arguments that would end in a month, and they’d all be together again. Perhaps he had wanted her to keep the dress because he wanted her to come to another party soon.

But she wanted rid of the vile, expensive thing; nothing was going to be held over her head. She didn’t want to imagine herself as anyone else anymore. The dress wasn’t hers, and she didn’t want it anymore. She wasn’t that person.

And as the cameras went wild and the reporters began their assault of questions and accusations, Ophelia shut the window.

He’s never actually been in her house, or even in her backyard, sometimes he’s dropped her home after a gig, or after school, but he’s never usually left the car. The house was actually kind of gaudy, and bigger than he had been expecting. He knew her dad had a job up at the university, but he’d never actually paid attention to the title; he must be more than just a professor to afford a house like this.

The backyard is well maintained, spacious and grassy, with a little, wooden deck, overhung by an old tree. There’s several windows facing the back yard, but only one with the lights on and the blinds drawn. Roger thinks about taking a pebble from the edge of the deck, but thinks better of it; if he threw it too hard it could break her window, and he does not need that right now.

[im in your backyard.] He sends. She reads it but doesn’t respond. [ash please let me in so i can explain]

[nothing to explain..] She replies with, but when he looks up at her window, he sees she’s pulled back the curtains enough to peer out at him. When they lock eyes, she scowls and flips him off.

[youre acting like a child] He sends, and looks up at her. She rolls her eyes.

[dude you were fingering another girl like 5 minutes ago idk how you want me to react]

[are you jealous?] He catches sight of Ash’s expression turning to surprise, and then quickly to some sort of anger, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she opens her window, and heads further into her room, and Roger knows with both startling clarity and resignation, that he’s going to have to climb the tree to get to her. But at least she’s letting him in.

It’s easier than he’d assumed it would be, and as he jumps through, praying for a soft landing, he’s surprised when he tumbles onto Ash’s bed, and then onto the floor when he overshoots the mark.

“Jealous of you?” Ash is already on the attack, arms crossed, expression furious, but as Roger rights himself, he cuts her off.

“Jealous of Dom,” he corrects, getting to his feet, and Ash’s mouth snaps shut, and a blush erupts across her cheeks, “and I’m sorry, again.” Roger adds.

“Why would you be sorry?” Ash snaps, and Roger swallows hard, steeling himself for what he was about to admit.

“Because I don’t like Dom half as much as I like you,” he told her, voice clear and earnest, “honest.”

“Get out,” Ash snarled, still blushing, expression furious, “this isn’t fucking funny, Roger, get out of my room, my house, and my fucking life –“

“I’m not lying!” He yelped, which brought the thunder of footsteps up the stairs, and Oscar calling Ash’s name.

“Go away, Oz, I’m fine,” Ash called back, tears in her eyes. As they both hear him retreating, she turns and locks the door, as an extra measure. Roger isn’t quite sure what’s happening as he watches Ash turn and lean against the door, scrubbing her hands over her face.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” She asks finally, voice quiet, “I’m into you, is that what you wanted to hear? I like like you, Roger, I have for a long fucking time, so you pretending to have feelings for me to save our friendship or whatever, it just feels shitty, okay?” With a sigh, she slid down the door until she was sitting, knees drawn up to her chest, not looking at him, “we’re still gonna be friends, you don’t need to do this; I’d really rather you didn’t –“

“I don’t wanna be your fucking friend, Ash, I wanna be your fucking boyfriend! You’re not the only one with feelings here!” Roger throws himself back onto the bed, hands in his hair out of frustration, “I was an idiot tonight, I was drunk on Abby’s spiked punch, and I was thinking with my dick, I’m sorry –“

“Wait...” Ash says, tone gentle and confused, “you’re really not kidding?” And there’s a note of hope in her words that has Roger looking to her, bewildered.

“Not even a little bit,” he confirms, and for the barest moment, it finally seems like they’re both on the same page until Ash stands, scowling.

“Then why were you fingering Dom?!” She hollered.

“Is Roger in there with you?” Oscar calls from downstairs, tone disapproving.

“It’s fine, Oz,” Ash calls back, before turning to Roger, expression demanding and answer, despite Oscar’s squawk of protest from downstairs, and Freddie’s muffled laugh.

“Because I’m an idiot!” Roger answers honestly after a beat, trying to stay quiet, though he couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped him. And finally, there’s a moment of silence, a moment to breathe, and Roger sees Ash shiver. She’s just wearing her button-down short sleeve shirt and red shorts, since he’s pretty sure the jacket she’d been wearing was Oscar’s judging by it’s size, but he moves instinctively to close the window he’d entered through, which had been letting in a cold breeze behind him.

“You are an idiot,” Ash agrees quietly, but she doesn’t sound hostile, and when Roger turns back, she’s walking towards him, arms still crossed, but smiling.

“So you were jealous?” Roger can’t help himself, smirking, and Ash’s nose wrinkles just a little, but she takes a deep breath, uncrossing her arms and stepping into his space.

“Maybe,” she responds coyly, despite her obvious blush. Roger’s hands find her hips, and for the barest moment, she frowns, “you washed your hands, right?” And it’s Roger’s turn to flush scarlet.

“Yes,” he spluttered, “before I even put my pants on.” He was trying to be reassuring, but Ash’s whole expression soured, and Roger made a face as soon as he’d realised what he’d said.

“Just stop talking,” Ash huffed a laugh, resting her hands on his shoulders where he was sitting on the edge of her bed. Roger smirked.

“Make me -“ she cut him off with a kiss. She’s softer than he’d been expecting, which is strange, or maybe it’s that when he thinks of Ash, he thinks she’s all hard edges and sharp smiles, but her kiss is gentle, and tastes mostly of the beer she’d shotgunned, but she’s insistent, her biting gently at his bottom lip before he deepens the kiss. He pulls her closer, pulls her into his lap, and Ash grins as she pulls back for a breath, an expression Roger mirrors –

“Ashley!” It’s Oscar again, sounding rather furious, and Ash’s expression falls.

“Oscar!” She hollers back, climbing off of Roger’s lap and stalking over to her door, annoyed as she unlocks it and wrenches it open. Oscar, on the other side, looks startled by her tone, and his gaze flicks to Roger sitting on her bed, looking a little out of breath, and his expression shifts to something a little unreadable.

“What?” Ash demands. Roger gives a sheepish wave.

“Making sure everything’s okay,” he paused, looking back to Ash, “and there’s some of your friends at the door wondering if Roger’s alive.”

“Very much alive,” Ash tells him, and Oscar tips his head to the side, nodding.

“You guys want anything?” His whole tone has shifted, and Roger’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at how chill he was being all of a sudden. Ash’s whole posture relaxed, however, and she sighed gently.

“If we want anything, I can get it, but thanks,” she adds, and Oscar nods. Before he leaves, he makes an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, telling him to behave like a gentleman, and Ash closes the door on him, locking it again with a huff of laughter.

“Sorry about him,” she says a little sheepishly, turning with a half-smile.

“He was ready to rip my throat out not two minutes ago, what happened?” Roger snorted as she made her way back to him, sitting beside him on the bed.

“He’s protective is all,” Ash explains, and Roger nods a little awkwardly, “dad’s not exactly the parental type,” she adds with a humourless smile. Roger’s not quite sure what to say to this, but he’s saved from responding by Ash reaching over to her bedside table and picking up a remote.

“Did you wanna watch a movie or something?” After a beat, she amends, “I mean, if you wanna head back to the party we can –“

“I think if I head back, Dom’s gonna rip my ball off,” he says, perhaps a little too honestly, though Ash laughs, “which, okay, maybe I deserve but –“

“You’ll be safe here,” Ash assures, resting her hand on his thigh, and Roger gives her a surprisingly fond smile.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” and she leans in, kisses gently at the corner of his mouth. When she goes to pull away, he catches her chin with two fingers, pulling her back for a full kiss, and she hums happily against his lips.

“Netflix and chill?” Roger asks with a smirk as they part, and Ash gives a flushed smile.

“Something like that,” she agrees, and Roger kicks off his shoes, shuffling back on the bed until he was sitting against the headboard, with room beside himself for Ash as she flicks on the TV across from them, sitting on top of her drawers, “you want a drink?” She asks, tossing him the remote to choose what they watch, “we’ve got beer, and fizzy drink, and I think there’s some apple juice, and milk... and water, of course.” She offers a little awkwardly.

“Water would be great,” Roger grins, flicking through the movies available on Netflix, and Ash nods, heading from the room and down the stairs.

Roger hadn’t been paying much attention to Ash’s room earlier, too preoccupied with the girl herself, so he takes the moments he’s given to have a look around. The walls are pink, though he suspects that’s just how they were painted when they moved in, judging by the posters she’s got tacked up everywhere, as if trying to hide the original colour. There’s theatre posters from shows over the past few years, fliers for art shows, and hand drawn poetry reading posters that feature Oscar’s name. The movie posters she’s got up are for strange art films he’s never heard of, mostly in other languages, and there’s pages of books that have been ripped out and stuck to the wall.

The salt lamp on her beside table casts the whole room in a warm, golden glow, which highlights the gold in her green and gold floral bedspread, and he notes the clothes and notebooks and art supplies all over her floor. There’s a half-finished sculpture on her desk that he can’t quite decipher what it’s meant to be, but it’s covered in cling-wrap to keep it moist.

On the wall by her bed, there’s one of Queen’s posters that he knows Freddie designed, which makes Roger smile in a way he hadn’t expected. Beneath that, there’s a polaroid of a poem from a book; most of the words are blurry, apart from a few in sharp relief.

“[...] and all I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorry                                                       about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

I couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.”

It’s captioned, just below, in what Roger’s come to recognise as Ash’s handwriting, with “R” and the date that tells him it was taken just one week ago. The night Ash had gotten into that fight at Queen’s last gig.

He hears chatter from downstairs, Ash and Freddie and Oscar, but only one set of footsteps after a few minutes, and Ash returns, two mugs in hand. She sets them both down on the bedside table and closes and locks the door.

“What’s this from?” Roger taps at the polaroid of the poetry, and as he asks it, Roger seems to notice the still-healing bruises beneath her eyes and across her nose. Ash’s expression twists into something amusingly embarrassed.

“One of Oz’s poetry books,” she explained, sitting next to him and plucking the polaroid from the wall. After a moment, she settled into his side, staring intently at the polaroid, “felt like the only way I could document a poignant moment in my life.” She chuckled, and passed the picture back to him. Instead of sticking it back up, Roger looks at it again, smiling faintly.

“The fight, right?” And Ash nods in confirmation, “you never did tell me what that was all about.”

“Maybe I will one day,” Ash muses, taking the remote from him and pressing play on Detective Pikachu. Roger doesn’t push, lets her have this as he sticks the polaroid back on the wall beneath his band’s poster.

Before he settles back entirely, however, Roger gently angles Ash’s face so he can lightly kiss the tip of her nose, and her cheek bones where the bruises are fading. Ash doesn’t ask and Roger doesn’t elaborate, but they both kind of just know.

After a few minutes, he called you for dinner, nothing too fancy just some salad since it was getting late a big dinner wouldn't be right for you. "Would you like to have a warm bath?" he asked you again while eating your dinner "I also read that a change of temperature can help you get a better night. I could prepare it for you" "Gwilym! I-I truly don't deserve" he chuckled moving with his hand as though he was brushing off your statement "No seriously nobody, not even my parents, have had these considerations with me on this topic" "I just want to make sure you're okay" he simply said "your my girlfriend and I love you and I want to make sure you're alright" "I love you too" you replied "and tomorrow morning you can come with me on my morning hike" "Alright, doll" he laughed "but I'm making you breakfast tomorrow morning and you can sleep as long as you want okay?" You were getting ready to protest since it was most likely that you'd wake up Gwilym at some point of the night but before you could say anything Gwil cut in with an "end of discussion" and he put the dishes away. "On one condition" you pleaded " only if you join in the bathroom in a few minutes" "Deal" he smiled as you disappeared into the hallway.

In the first limo there were five men. They started off anxious and a bit stiff, but one in particular had them all laughing pretty quickly. He had a wide smile and a mess of auburn hair. Already, he was the most popular guy in the car.

“Oh, we’re pulling up!” he said.

Everyone pressed toward the window to get a glimpse of you. His heart swelled at the sight. There you stood in a stunning silver gown and a smile on your gorgeous lips. He was falling already and he hadn’t even met you yet. Nervous as he was when the producers told him he was going first, now he was thrilled. He got to meet you before anyone else. He just hoped he made a good first impression.

The limo came to a slow stop in front of you. The anticipation was killing you at this point. You wrung your hands together as the door was opened and the first man stepped out. You watched anxiously as he appeared outside the car and then you saw him. 

The second you met his eyes, all nerves melted away. He grinned widely at you and you couldn’t help but smile right back. You fought back an urge to reach out to him - that’s how eager you were for him to step closer.

“Wow,” he sighed as he began to walk to you. “Wow, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you!” you replied sweetly. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

He chuckled. Now you saw that in his hand he carried a bottle of champagne. Your brow furrowed.

“My name is Joe,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Joe,” you returned. “What’ve you got there?”

He lifted it to about chest-level and showed you the label.

“Champagne,” he said. “Because every day I spend getting to know you is a celebration.”

You giggled. “I like that attitude, for sure. Are we going to open it now?”

“Definitely!” he replied.

He opened the bottle with a loud POP and you cheered. He didn’t bring glasses, so you each took a sip straight from the bottle. It was so fun and relaxed. He held your gaze another moment. Then he sighed and hugged you. You hummed and held him close.

“I can’t wait to talk to you more,” he said. He pulled back and indicated the bottle. “And drink some more of this.”

You looked at his face, that feeling of familiarity washing over you again.

“Yeah, me too,” you said.

He gave your hand one last squeeze before departing into the mansion. You released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. 

“Wow,” you said. “He’s so sweet.”

A few more men emerged from the limo and met you, but Joe still stuck out. It wasn’t what he said or did, necessarily, it was just how you felt when you looked at him. Like you had known him for years instead of mere minutes.

The next limo rolled up and you found yourself more excited than before. The first man to step out was like the others. The second one, though...he was so attractive you nearly fell over. He was broad but not intimidating. His face was boyish and sweet, but he had the loveliest green eyes you had ever seen. His blonde hair was carefully styled. Your heart raced when he smiled at you as he walked over.

“Hi,” he said with a deep British accent. “I’m Ben.”

“H-hello!” you stammered, opening your arms for a hug. “It’s nice to meet you!”

He squeezed you tight and you felt his body, which nearly made you gasp. Then he pulled back and looked you over. 

“God, you’re stunning,” he sighed. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

You felt a bit of a shyness from him that was incredibly endearing.

“I’m happy you came,” you returned. 

“I just want to say that I’m here for a real shot at love,” he said. “I’m excited for this opportunity with you and I just want to learn everything I can about you.”

With each word, your smile grew. 

“Thank you, Ben,” you said. “I’m looking forward to this journey too, and I hope to see more of you.”

He beamed. “Great! I’ll see you inside, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you assured him with a nod.

You watched him go into the mansion with a heavy sigh. You would happily have stood there and spoken with him all night if you could. But, there were other men to meet.

Shortly after Ben, came another British man. He was handsome in a sort of quirky way, with a slim nose and a sharp, angular jaw. His smile was bright and infectious.

“Hello,” he greeted as he walked up and took your hand, shaking it politely. “I’m Taron.”

“Taron?” you repeated. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“It’s Welsh,” he told you. 

“I see,” you said.

When he spoke, he was animated and friendly. His warmth drew you in. Just holding his hand made you wonder what it would be like to be in his arms instead. You already felt incredibly safe around him.

“We’ll talk more inside?” he asked.

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He too, disappeared into the mansion. There were some clear front-runners already and you hadn’t even met all the men. The next limo pulled up and you waited for the next one.

This man was certainly unique. His deep eyes struck you with their size and the way they captivated you. When he smiled at you, you heard an awkward laugh and you couldn’t help but join in. His mop of black curls atop his head framed his face in such an adorable way.

“Hi there!” you said as he approached you.

“Hello,” he replied. “I’m Rami.”

“Rami?” you asked, to clarify.

He nodded. “I had a whole speech prepared but now that I’m looking at you, I’ve forgotten it.”

You chuckled. “That’s alright. I prefer you to be real and honest with me.”

“Well, then you already know that I’m a bit bumbling,” he joked.

You laughed fully. “I like it. I can already say I like you, Rami.”

“Awesome, I like you too,” he returned. “Just so you know, I’ll always be real with you. Even if it’s uncomfortable.”

“That’s perfect,” you said. “That’s what I want in a partner.”

“I have more I want to talk to you about already,” he said. “But I guess it’ll have to wait.”

“Just a little longer,” you said.

He hesitated a moment before leaning forward to whisper in your ear. It was in a language you didn’t understand, but his tone completely enthralled you. You knew it was complimentary. 

“What does that mean?” you asked when he finished.

“Find me later to find out,” he returned.

You smirked. So he did have some smoothness to him, after all.

“I will,” you promised.

He left. 

The next man to make an impression on you was yet another Englishman. He was tall, with a slender build. His chocolate brown hair made his blue eyes quite startling to you. His smile was a bit crooked, but in a charming sort of way. He straightened his tie as he approached you with his long stride.

“Hello,” he said warmly.

“Hi, how are you?” you replied.

“Quite swept off my feet, I must say,” he said, taking your hands. “You are beautiful. I’m Gwilym.”

“How unusual!” you said. “Where’s it from?”

“Wales,” he told you.

“I have a lot to learn about Wales,” you joked.

He didn’t ask about your remark, but he looked deeply into your eyes.

“I have a lot to learn about you, cariad,” he said.

“Cariad?”

He chuckled. “Also Welsh. Used for someone you love.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

He kissed your cheek and when his stubble brushed your skin, it sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. 

“See you inside?” he asked.

“See you inside,” you returned.

He also went into the mansion, which was quickly becoming rather crowded. There were a few more gimmicks you saw come out of the limo, some guys came in costumes, but the ones that really struck you as serious contenders were Joe, Ben, Taron, Rami, Gwilym, and two more from the last limo, Allen and Richard.

Inside, all the men were greeting one another. Joe was talking to Rami, since they knew each other from college. The other guys were all sort of milling about as they waited for you, sipping on the drinks in their hands. Nerves hung around everyone as they watched the doorway for your form. 

You walked carefully up the driveway and into the mansion, heart nearly pounding out of your chest. It appeared you had a wonderful group of men in front of you. The journey was going to be fun, but could end up becoming extremely difficult. But as you pictured the faces of each of them as you met them - just as hopeful, just as anxious, just as willing to risk everything as you were - you couldn’t help but smile again. You walked in.

When you came into the living room you were met with cheers and applause as the men got excited. You beamed at them and offered a cheeky curtsey. You found a few pairs of eyes as you looked around.

“Thank you all so much for being here,” you said. “I can’t wait to get to know each of you throughout this experience and I just…” you trailed off. “I know my husband is in this room. I can feel it. I have faith in this. I have faith in all of you.”

One of them handed you a glass of wine, which you raised to toast.

“To finding love!” you cried.

“To finding love!” the echoed.

You all met glasses and took a sip. As soon as the toast was over, Lee, a guy who had played guitar for you as his greeting, tapped your shoulder.

“Can I steal you away?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure!” you replied.

He took your hand and led you away from the rest of the men, who all looked disappointed and a little annoyed.

“Not much we can do,” Gwilym said. “Someone had to steal her first.”

A murmur of resigned agreement went through the crowd. After a couple minutes, Rami got up from the couch. He looked at Joe.

“I think it’s time someone stole her second,” he said.

Joe smirked and clapped hands with Rami. “Good luck, buddy.”

Rami followed the path you and Lee had taken outside and to the fireplace. You perched on the stone step, soaking in the warmth. You thought Lee was perfectly nice, but you found your mind drifting to some of the other men inside.

As if summoned by the thought of him, Rami appeared around the corner.

“Hey,” he said, cutting Lee off mid-sentence. “Can I steal you?”

“Sure,” you said. You patted Lee’s knee. “Thanks for talking with me.”

You stood up, gave Lee a quick hug, and he stalked off as you grabbed Rami’s hand. Rami led you over to the couch by the pool. You took a seat next to him and scooted closer.

“How are you doing?” he asked. 

“I’m a little overwhelmed, honestly,” you replied. “Tell me what you whispered in my ear. What language was it?”

“Arabic,” he said with a soft chuckle. “My parents are Egyptian. I said ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’”

You giggled. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, are you first generation?” you asked.

“Yeah, my parents and big sister came over from Cairo, but my brother and I were born here in Los Angeles actually,” he explained. 

“Really?!” you teased. “So you didn’t have to go very far to be here, huh?”

“Not at all,” he laughed. “I mean, my family doesn’t have a mansion like this one or anything like that, but yeah, same town.”

“That’s really cool,” you told him. “Are your parents still together?”

“They are,” he said. “I look up to them a lot when it comes to what I want for my own life. That level of commitment is important to me.”

“Me too,” you agreed.

Inside, Lee returned to the rest of the men in a bit of a huff. He sat down on the couch next to Gwilym, irritability coming off of him in waves.

“Alright?” Gwilym asked.

“Yeah, just Diversity Rose over there interrupted my time with her,” Lee replied bitterly.

Gwilym blinked. Several of the men turned their heads at the comment.

“Diversity Rose?” he questioned.

“Y’know, he’s only gonna get a rose because he’s a minority,” Lee said with a shrug.

The room became uncomfortably quiet. All eyes were flickering between Lee and the remaining men of color in the room - Kenny, Eric, Mike, and John.

“Dude,” said the man on the other side of Lee, named Wells. “C’mon.”

“What?” Lee said defensively. “It’s just the facts.”

“No,” replied Wells. “You’re being racist.”

“Yeah, it’s all just starting out,” Joe agreed. “They could be having a great connection right now, you don’t know. You’re just mad he interrupted you and this is how you’re choosing to handle it.”

“Honestly, being interrupted is part of this,” Gwilym chimed in. “You can’t call someone a ‘Diversity Rose’ just because you’re upset.”

“That’s not what I -”

“Dude, just stop,” Mike interrupted. “You said something sh***y, you could just apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing, I’m not wrong,” Lee said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Several of the men just shook their heads at Lee’s stubbornness, and many of them were still shocked by the comment in the first place. Backs were turned on him as he sat on the couch.

Meanwhile, you were now deep in conversation with a man named Jared. He was handsome and sweet, and genuinely interesting to talk to. Rami had headed back toward the house, where the tension hanging in the room nearly smothered him. He felt almost everyone looking at him. He went to Joe and sat down beside his friend.

“What happened?” he whispered.

“You don’t even want to know,” Joe answered.

A couple minutes into your conversation with Jared, Ben came up and asked for you. Eager to speak to him some more, you said a quick goodbye to Jared and followed Ben back to the fireplace. He seemed a bit grave now. Your brow furrowed.

“You okay?” you asked. “You seemed so hopeful earlier and now I feel like you’re upset.”

“Yeah, it’s just something one of the guys said,” he told you.

You frowned. Drama, already? It was only night one. You wondered what someone could have possibly said to Ben, who seemed like such an angel of a person.

“Who said something to you?” you asked.

“It wasn’t something said to me in particular, but it was definitely disturbing,” he went on.

Your heart sunk.

“What was it?”

“Lee,” Ben said. “He called Rami a ‘Diversity Rose.’”

You immediately just saw red. A flash of anger surged through you and you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“He said what?”

Ben explained the whole scenario. What Lee had said and that the other men had confronted him, but he refused to acknowledge that he was wrong. You hated to spend this time with Ben talking about someone else, but this was something you needed to know. If that was the kind of man Lee was then you didn’t want him here.

“Thanks for telling me, Ben,” you said levelly, though inside you were about ready to scream. This had been such a great night so far and now you had to deal with this. “Could you give me a minute?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

He gave your hand a squeeze before heading back inside. You took another deep, although shaky breath. You knew Lee was sort of country from the way he talked and that he was from outside of Nashville. But this was a bit much. True, he had not used a slur or said something overtly offensive, but to lash out with that comment because Rami did what he was supposed to do in this experience was completely out of order. You needed to fix this. You snatched your glass of wine from the table, downed it, and then marched toward the house.

All the men turned eyes on you as you came through the door. A few smiled, but they quickly faltered at the dark expression on your face. You scanned the room for Lee and found him at the end of the couch, sipping his whiskey as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Lee, can we chat for a second?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said, getting to his feet and starting toward you.

“No, not in private,” you snapped. “This is something everybody should hear.”

His brow furrowed in confusion and he cocked his head to the side. “Everything okay?”

“No, everything is not okay!” you cried. “Did you or did you not refer to Rami as a ‘Diversity Rose’?”

His eyes went wide. “Wha - who told you that?!”

“It doesn’t matter who told me, what matters is if you said it!” you shot back. “Did you?!”

He looked down at the floor like a child being scolded by his mother. He didn’t speak.

“So you did,” you gathered. “Lee, that was f***ed up.”

He still didn’t answer you.

“The person I marry has to be open and loving,” you said. “Every man here who gets a rose, gets one because I see potential in him to be my husband. And I no longer see that potential in you. Get out of the mansion.”

“Y/N, I -”

“Don’t!” you cried. “I won’t tolerate bigotry of any kind. Go home.”

He sighed heavily, looked at you one last time, and walked out the door with his metaphorical tail between his legs. You watched him go, satisfied that he was gone, but annoyed that this had happened at all.

“Anyone else have a problem?” you asked, looking around the room. No one spoke. “Good. Now, let’s try and salvage what was a really pleasant evening.”

You swept out of the room. Joe, bottle of champagne still in tow, followed you out. 

“Hey!” he called as you made your way to the other side of the pool. “Y/N!”

You turned to face him and forced a smile.

“Hey,” you replied. 

Without warning, he pulled you into his arms. Your buried your face in his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. He rested his chin atop your head. You stood there with him in silence for a moment. You noticed that he smelled nice. His heartbeat was steady and strong. You squeezed him a bit.

“Careful, I might fart,” he warned.

You burst out laughing and looked up at him, so grateful for his presence and his energy. He grinned at you and held up the champagne.

“Come on, we’ve got to finish this,” he said.

You followed him over to another couch and he offered you the bottle. You took a swig and then looked at him.

“Tell me about yourself,” you said.

“Well, I’m from New York,” he told you. “I run a restaurant there with my family.”

“Let me guess,” you said. “Italian?”

He beamed. “Yes, ma’am. Great food, great people.”

“That sounds lovely,” you told him.

You were grateful he didn’t talk about what just happened with Lee. He was just talking to you and letting you know him. Everything he said was funny and sweet. You told yourself to remember everything about him. Joe was a person you never wanted to forget.

“My dad was the best at it, though,” he said, referring to his favorite dish from the restaurant, which he had described to you. “No one does it like he did.”

“He did?” you asked. “Past tense?”

He swallowed, and looked down at his hands for a fleeting moment before meeting your eyes again. He took your hand.

“Yeah,” he said stiffly. “He passed away last year.”

“Oh, Joe, I’m so sorry,” you said earnestly. “I can’t even imagine.”

“It’s been kind of a lonely year,” he choked out. “We were really close.”

“Come here,” you said, and you pulled him close to you.

Once again, you simply held each other. You knew now, without a doubt that Joe was your strongest connection so far. You felt something with him that you had not felt with anyone in a long time, even on the previous season of The Bachelor. He was special.

You broke apart and he smiled at you again.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” you said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Thanks for being such a sweetheart,” he replied. 

You held each other’s gaze for another moment. Then, before either of you really noticed, you were leaning in. He met you halfway, and claimed your lips in a soft kiss. It was rather chaste at first, before deepening into more. When you met there in the middle, it was all fireworks inside your heart. Bursting with joy. Just as you were.

The rest of the evening went well. The men were polite, charming, funny, and so, so handsome. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world to be getting to know them. As things were winding down, Chris Harrison placed the First Impression Rose on the coffee table in front of the men. They all eyed it hungrily. 

You were talking with Gwilym when a producer told you that the rose was waiting. You really liked Gwilym, but you knew who the First Impression Rose was going to. You finished up your conversation and headed inside.

When you returned, there were fewer men there, as they had sort of spread out after the Lee situation. You didn’t mind.

“Hi, gentlemen,” you said, picking the rose up off the plate. “Anyone seen Joe?”

“He’s out on the balcony with Rami,” Ben told you.

“Thanks,” you said, and headed that way.

The guys all looked at each other and sighed.

“Guess we know who’s getting that rose,” Taron said.

You went out to the balcony and found Joe and Rami there. You greeted them warmly. 

“Joe, can I borrow you for a second?” you asked.

“Absolutely,” he told you.

He followed you back to where you talked before. You took a seat beside him on the couch and smiled.

“Joe,” you said. “I want to thank you for comforting me after the drama and reminding me of the reasons I started this journey. You opened up to me, made me laugh, and you’re a pretty great kisser too.”

You laughed together a moment and he took your hand.

“You made a wonderful impression on me,” you said. “So, Joe...will you accept this rose?”

“Of course I will,” he replied.

“Yay!” you said softly, and then leaned forward to place it on his jacket.

When it was firmly pinned, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again. This one was passionate and adoring. You nearly moaned into his mouth. His lips were so soft and he was so tender with you, it was like a dream. You sighed when he pulled away.

“I like you, Y/N,” he said.

“I like you too,” you replied.

Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

Before too much longer, it was time for the rose ceremony. Chris Harrison announced it to the men and the producers told you. You followed them out to let them know your decisions. You were happy that Joe, at least, could relax.

The men lined up and you stood before them. You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, knowing you were about to hurt some feelings. Rose ceremonies were never easy, and you understood how each of them felt because you had been in their position before.

“Thank you to all of you for being so brave and letting me get to know you,” you began. “Unfortunately, this is the hard part, where I have to say goodbye. Please know I’m just following my heart, and I wish all of you the best of luck in your own journeys to find love.”

You picked up the first rose. The air thickened in the room.

“Rami,” you said.

He released a breath and came over to you.

“Rami, will you accept this rose?” you asked.

“I will,” he replied, and you pinned it on him.

You picked up the second rose, eyes searching for the name you were about to say.

“Ben,” you said.

“Yes,” he whispered and jogged a little to reach you sooner.

“Ben, will you accept this rose?”

“Always.”

You picked up the next one.

“Allen,” you said.

“Thank God,” he sighed in his adorable Irish accent.

You giggled. “Allen, will you accept this rose?”

He did. You continued to call names. Taron, Richard, Eric, Kenny, Mike, Jared, Wells, John, and a few other guys you liked - Jordan, John Paul, and Luke. Finally it was down to Gwilym and four other men.

“Gentlemen, Y/N,” said Chris Harrison as he stepped out. “This is the final rose tonight.”

You locked eyes with Gwiylm.

“Gwilym,” you said. 

He nearly double over with relief. 

“Thank goodness,” he said as he walked up.

“Gwilym, will you accept this rose?” 

“Every time,” he replied. “Thank you.”

He re-joined the men as you looked at them.

“Guys, I’m sorry,” Chris said. “If you did not receive a rose, take a moment, say your goodbyes.”

The four men clapped their neighbors on the back before they approached you one by one. They hugged you and said soft goodbyes before leaving the mansion. The last one wished you luck, which you appreciated. You hated to do this part, but it was all part of the journey. You were excited about the group in front of you now. These were the men that really had your attention. You all gathered together for another champagne toast.

“Here’s to moving forward and learning everything we can about each other,” you said. “To love!”

“To love!” they repeated as glasses clinked all around you.