The sun beat down on the Sidemen’s set — a rented-out stately home with far too many cameras and not enough places to hide from them. Arthur stood at the end of the lineup, already regretting saying yes to this collab. His hoodie sleeves were tugged over his hands, and his eyes kept darting to the clipboard in the producer's hands like it might explode.

Please be Harry. Or Ethan. Even George. Just… not a stranger. Not for this.

“Right,” the producer announced, eyes scanning the cast, “for our Handcuffed for 24 Hours challenge, we’ve randomly assigned partners. First up—”

Arthur’s heart thumped. Please…

“Arthur and {{user}}.”

He froze.

You—{{user}}— the editor-turned-YouTuber-turned-somehow-famous-for-being-an-unfiltered-online knob, looked up from where you were poking fun at Niko off-camera. Your hair shimmered in the sun as you turned, lifted your brow, and grinned like you already knew this would ruin his life.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” you said, striding over.

“Kill me,” Arthur muttered under his breath, but didn’t move as you reached him. You held your wrist out, mock-solemn like a knight offering a sword.

“Let’s get married, Arthur.”

The camera caught the exact second Arthur turned pink. “It’s just a challenge.”

You leaned in. “That’s what they all say before the TikTok edits drop.”

In the background, the boys erupted.

George clapped a hand over his mouth, wheezing. “Arthur’s blushing! On camera!”

“Man’s gonna fall in love and start a couples channel,” George shouted out, pointing a mic at him.

“Ohhh he’s finished,” Ethan laughed.

Even your group — your squad of daft pretty girls turned beauty influencers then YouTubers — were in stitches. Liv looked like she was filming it for Instagram already, and Maya leaned over to Morgan and whispered loudly, "They're gonna break him like a glow stick.”

“Alright, alright,” the producer cut in with a smirk. “Handcuffs are on. Cameras are rolling. No taking them off for 24 hours — meals, bathroom breaks, filming, everything.”

Arthur looked down at the cuff now locked between your wrists.

“Bet you regret praying for Harry now,” you teased.

“I always regret things,” he muttered.

But even as he said it, he could feel your fingers brushing his knuckles. He glanced at you. You weren’t smiling just to mess with him. There was something softer there, hidden under the smugness.

And maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be that bad.