Chapter Text
The red recording light flicked on.
“Welcome back to The Bach and Arthur Podcast,” Arthur said, leaning toward his mic like he was about to announce breaking news. “Where we bring you wisdom, clarity, and—” he paused for dramatic effect, “—absolutely nothing of value.”
Issac tilted his head, giving Arthur the kind of unimpressed look he’d perfected over the years. “That’s terrible branding.”
Arthur smirked. “It’s honest branding.”
Their producer sighed quietly behind the glass, fiddling with dials. Issac pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh.
“Anyway,” he said, smoothing the moment over like he always did, “today we’re doing a Q&A episode. You lot sent us questions, and about ninety percent of them were about our skincare routines.”
Arthur’s grin widened. “As they should be. Look at this face. This is the face of someone who moisturizes once every presidential term.”
Issac let out a soft snort, shaking his head. “You literally wash your face with shower gel. Don’t act like you have a routine.”
Arthur gasped in mock horror. “How dare you slander me on my own podcast?”
Issac arched a brow. “Technically, it’s both of our podcast.”
“Yes, but you don’t bring the charm,” Arthur shot back. “You’re the serious one.”
Issac sat up straighter, adjusting his mic. “And thank God for that. Otherwise this would just be an hour of you rambling about your questionable hygiene.”
Arthur cackled, nearly knocking his water bottle over. “At least it’s entertaining.”
Issac tried to hide his smile, but his voice softened anyway. “Somehow, yeah.”
They breezed through questions, falling into their usual rhythm — Arthur leaning into chaos, Issac reigning him back in with dry remarks that only made Arthur laugh harder. The producer cut them off once when they went on a five-minute tangent about which crisp flavor best defined their personalities.
“Final thoughts?” Issac asked, wrapping things up.
Arthur leaned into the mic. “Don’t trust anyone who says Ready Salted.”
Issac shook his head, already pulling his headphones off. “This is why no one takes you seriously.”
Arthur pointed at him across the table. “You take me seriously.”
Issac paused, lips twitching. “…unfortunately.”
Arthur’s grin widened like he’d won.
The studio emptied quickly after that. Their producer shut things down with a polite nod, Arthur slung his backpack over his shoulder, and Issac lingered near the door, scrolling through notifications.
Liv had uploaded a TikTok — another dance trend. The comments were filled with the usual:
“Cutest couple on this app.”
“Protect them at all costs.”
“They’re literally endgame.”
Issac forced a smile, double-tapped, and slid his phone into his pocket just as Arthur appeared at his side.
“You heading home?” Arthur asked, voice casual.
“Yeah. Liv’s probably already made popcorn.”
Arthur smirked. “Tell her I said hi. And tell her she still owes me a Mario Kart rematch.”
Issac rolled his eyes, though warmth bloomed in his chest. “You’re never winning that rematch.”
“Optimism,” Arthur said cheerfully. “Love to see it.”
By the time Issac got back to the flat, the smell of popcorn lingered in the air. Liv was curled on the sofa in a hoodie, laptop balanced on her knees.
“How was recording?” she asked without looking up.
“Same as always.” Issac tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and collapsed onto the opposite sofa. “Arthur was an idiot.”
Liv smirked. “So… normal?”
Issac chuckled softly, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Yeah. Normal.”
For the world, it really was that simple. Arthur and Issac were best friends. Liv was Issac’s girlfriend. A neat little triangle everyone adored.
But Issac’s phone buzzed against the armrest.
Arthur: Made it home. Miss you already, loser.
Issac smiled before he could stop himself, thumb flying over the screen.
Issac: Miss you too.
He set the phone face-down and leaned back, chest tightening in that familiar, complicated way.
The group chat lit up later that night, as it always did.
Becky: when are you two uploading btw?
Arthur: idk ask issac he’s the dad of this operation
Issac: it’s literally scheduled for tomorrow 6pm.
Chris: arthur do u do ANYTHING
Arthur: i bring the vibes.
George: bad vibes tho
Arthur Hill: i second that
Arthur: ok rude.
Issac: accurate tho.
Arthur: i hate all of you except issac.
Issac: tragic for me then.
Issac caught himself smiling down at the screen, warmth spreading across his chest. Liv glanced over the top of her laptop.
“What’s funny?” she asked.
Issac shrugged quickly. “Just Arthur being Arthur.”
Hours later, when the flat was quiet and Liv had gone to bed, Issac stayed awake staring at his phone. The last message from Arthur blinked up at him.
Arthur: goodnight. wish i was there.
Issac hesitated, then typed back, fingers hovering before he hit send.
Issac: me too. goodnight.
He set the phone down and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Three years of this balancing act. Three years of laughter, of late-night texts, of pretending the most important thing in his life was just another friendship.
It was exhausting.
It was terrifying.
It was worth it.