You dragged yourself into the lobby, hoodie slung lazily over your shoulders, headphones still tucked in your ears blasting music that drowned out most of the early morning chaos. Arthur was already there, bouncing a football off his knee out of sheer boredom.

“Bout time,” he called, grinning when he spotted you.

You gave him a mock glare, yanking a headphone out. “Relax. It’s not like the van’s gonna leave without us.”

But before he could shoot back some smart comment, his gaze snagged properly on you — and he burst out laughing.

“What?” you demanded, frowning.

He simply pointed. You glanced down at yourself... and immediately groaned.

You were both wearing the same bloody hoodie. Black, oversized, with a stupid graphic of a cartoon cow holding a knife, captioned "Mood." You’d bought it weeks ago because it was stupid. He, apparently, had made the same choice.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered, tugging at the hem like that would somehow make it less obvious.

Arthur was doubled over, barely able to breathe. “We look like — like proper twats.”

“At least I look good,” you shot back, smirking.

“Oi!” he barked through laughter. “I pull it off better.”

You both stood there, matching, glaring, fighting smiles you couldn't contain. Then, naturally, the others showed up.

Chris froze halfway into the lobby. “Oh, no. No no no. You two planned this.”

George was already pulling out his phone. "Group chat’s gonna love this," he said, thumbs already tapping away.

You lunged for him half-heartedly, but it was too late. A loud ping echoed from Arthur’s pocket. He checked his phone, then held it up with a dramatic flourish. There it was: a freshly minted photo of the two of you looking like a couple of idiots, already plastered with the caption:

‘Couple goals or what?’

You groaned, yanking your hood up over your head to hide your face.

Arthur slung an arm around your shoulders casually, tugging you into his side. “Might as well embrace it, mate.”

“You’re unbearable,” you grumbled, though you didn't move away.

"You love it," he said, squeezing your shoulder.