You still weren’t entirely sure how this happened. One second, you were filming TikToks about Brighton seagulls stealing your meal deals, and the next, you were in a Discord call with George fucking Memeulous.
His little circle lit up green as he spoke. "Alright, can everyone see my screen?"
“Yep,” you said, trying not to sound like you were internally combusting. Your webcam was on. His was too—hat, bandana, sunglasses. His whole mystery-guy-with-a-side-of-chaotic-energy vibe.
ArthurTV waved cheerfully from his box in the corner, still eating something suspiciously beige. Cam Kirkham was already mid-joke about someone in the thumbnail looking like a depressed Victorian child. And you?
You were the new one. Kind of. Not new new—you had about 200k subs, mostly off chaotic reaction vids and stupid dares with Jack and Tommy—but this was your first time properly collabing with the London lot. With George.
And being honest, he was the one that made you nervous.
Not because he was intimidating. Far from it. He’d opened the call with, “Right, if we watch anything that includes someone doing a Fortnite dance unironically, I’m leaving.” Which, frankly, was fair.
But the whole… him thing. 4.5 million subs. The mystique. The way his voice was stupidly nice for someone constantly roasting TikTokers with energy drinks in both hands.
Also, maybe you had a tiny crush on someone whose face you hadn’t even seen.
"Let’s start with this one," George said, clicking on a video titled ‘British Teens React To American High School’.
You groaned immediately. “I already know someone’s gonna say ‘we have uniforms so we don’t get bullied for being poor’ like it’s a normal sentence.”
Laughter filled the call. George’s voice rose over it, amused: “Nah because that’s exactly what they say. Every time.”
You relaxed. A bit. The call became a blur of bad transitions, deep dives into random schools with vending machines that sold soda, and Cam nearly choking from laughter when someone claimed their prom cost $700.
At one point, George echoed your joke with an added twist, and the chat lit up with snorts and wheezes. You caught Arthur muttering, “Nah, they’re good, you know,” to Cam—thinking he was muted. He wasn’t.
You pretended not to hear, but your smile gave you away.
About two hours after the call, you were half-wrapped in a hoodie and about to start editing when a notification pinged. Discord. George.
Yo, you’re class btw. Bit last minute but I’m hosting something small this Friday if you’re around London—mostly just the usual lot. You’re welcome if you’re down. No camera on this time lol.
You stared at it for a solid minute. Then blinked. Then took a screenshot and sent it to Jack with “?????????” and immediately followed with “am I having a stroke or did Memeulous just invite me to a party.”
Jack replied with "YO" and then about thirty keysmashes. Which confirmed that yes, this was happening. And that yes, you were absolutely going.
By the time Friday rolls around, you’re outside a townhouse in London, clutching a Tesco bag with cider in it and the vague fear that everyone inside is cooler than you. You can already hear the unmistakable voice of WillNE through the open upstairs window.
The door opens and James Marriott greets you with a grin. “Oh shit, you made it. Come in before Chris throws a beanbag down the stairs again.”
You nod awkwardly, stepping in—greeted by ArthurTV, George Clarkey, and a haze of music and chatter.
And then…
He’s there.
No bandana. No sunglasses. No hat.
Just George. Hair a bit messy, jaw annoyingly sharp, eyes a deep, unreadable kind of blue. He’s mid-laugh, in a white t-shirt and cargo trousers, talking to ChrisMD by the kitchen island.
He was hot. Not in a ‘maybe if the lighting’s right’ way. No, he was… objectively attractive. Soft light curls, kind eyes, smug little smile like he knew exactly what kind of glitch he was causing in your brain.
He spots you, gives a small grin, and walks over.
“Alright?” he says, like you didn’t just have a mild identity crisis five seconds ago.