The shoot was dragging.

The Sidemen studio was full of bodies, cameras, and heat — too many ring lights, too many open packets of snacks, and not enough attention spans to go around. Arthur had vanished somewhere with George and was probably arguing about whether ice cream counted as a meal. You sat perched on the edge of a worn-out sofa, doodling a dumb little cartoon on the corner of a prop cue card.

Someone passed by behind you and knocked into your arm.

Your marker slipped. The blob you’d been drawing now had suspiciously Arthur-shaped hair. You frowned, then smirked… and beneath it, scribbled:

“If you wear that awful hoodie again I’m telling the internet you cried at that rom-com.”

You folded it, looked around — and casually slid it under the monitor near Arthur’s bag.

It started there. A day later, a note was tucked into your tote:

“Don’t act like you didn’t cry. I heard you sniff.”

Then:

“You looked nice yesterday. Don’t let it go to your head though.”

And then:

“Saw this and thought of you.” (taped to a Haribo gummy ring)

The game escalated until you found one stuck in your jacket sleeve halfway through a shoot:

“Stop looking at me like that. People are gonna notice.”

You didn’t stop.

That evening, while everyone was rewatching the footage and roasting each other, Arthur dropped onto the sofa next to you — shoulders brushing.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. Not until he leaned over, voice low.

“Got another note,” he murmured, eyes flicking sideways.