#capaldi

“I mean, look at her,” he gestured to me dramatically. “Y/N’s an absolute ten. And I...well, I look like someone who works at the haunted house at a theme park but not in costume.”

Pedro Pascal was crying laughing. “You’re giving Hot Sad Ghost, mate.”

Lewis pointed at him. “Exactly. Pedro gets it.”

Graham turned to me. “Y/N, do you remember the moment he ‘won you over’?”

I leaned into my mic. “It was when he brought me a cheese toastie after a hard day. Said, and I quote, ‘Nothing says love like melted cheese’”

The audience loved it. Graham was cackling. Pedro leaned across me and said, “You’re both chaotic. It’s terrifying.”

“It is,” I nodded. “Our neighbours have filed complaints.”

“Just once!” Lewis protested. “And that was only because you were screaming at me for trying to rhyme ‘orange’ in a song.”

“To be fair, he tried ‘door hinge,’” I deadpanned.

Olivia wiped tears from her eyes. “I’ve missed real couples. You two are fantastic.”

Graham held up the promo shot of our single cover me leaning over a piano in a silk robe, Lewis in an oversized hoodie with bed hair and a microphone.

“Now, ‘Half of Me,’” Graham said. “It’s gone absolutely viral. Number 1 in the UK, huge in America. And it’s a sad one. Like, properly sad.”

Lewis nodded. “Yeah. A classic cry in the shower while looking out dramatically like you're in a music video kind of tune.”

I grinned. “It came out of a real argument we had, actually.”

Lewis gasped dramatically. “You promised you wouldn’t tell them that!”

“Oh, come on. The people want transparency.”

Pedro leaned in, eyes wide. “Real argument? About what?”

Lewis groaned. “I said ‘I love you’ and she said ‘thanks.’”

Olivia screamed.

“I panicked!” I explained, laughing. “I was holding a smoothie, and I didn’t want it to get weird.”

“It was already weird,” Lewis muttered. “She literally patted my head.”

“I was aiming for ‘affectionate!’”

Graham was wiping tears from his eyes now. “This is exactly what people imagine your relationship is like. And it delivers.”

He moved the conversation to Pedro and Olivia, which gave me a moment to nudge Lewis with my shoulder.

“You alright?” I murmured.

He nodded, softening. “Yeah. Just... surreal, isn’t it? Sitting up here with you. With them. And people actually like our song.”

“They love it,” I corrected. “And they love you.”

He gave me a small, bashful smile, and under the table, he squeezed my hand.

Pedro was telling a wild story about accidentally texting his therapist instead of his mum something about sending a “mum I love you” text to a woman who’d just diagnosed him with anxiety and Lewis nearly spat out his water.

“I’d just pass away on the spot,” Lewis wheezed. “Like unplug me. I’m done.”

“You have texted your therapist drunk before,” I said.

He clutched his chest. “She said I was ‘emotionally open!’ I stand by it.”

Olivia chimed in, “Lewis, I imagine your sessions are... eventful.”

“They’re like a mix between The Notebook and The Inbetweeners,” I said.

More laughter. Honestly, the Graham Norton set should come with a warning label for stomach cramps.

Eventually, Graham circled back to our duet.

“So tell us, where did this song come from? Who wrote the chorus?”

Lewis pointed at me. “That would be this lyrical genius.”

I shrugged modestly. “I did the first draft, but he added the best line.”

“Oh?” Graham perked up. “Do tell.”

Lewis smirked. “She’d written this heartbreaking verse about feeling like she gave too much. And I came in with the line ‘Half of me still hopes you choke on the silence.’”

The crowd gasped in admiration.

Pedro slow-clapped. “That’s savage. That’s like... I-want-you-to-cry-into-your-breakfast level.”

Olivia added, “That’s divorce core. Love it.”

Lewis turned to me. “Romantic, isn’t it?”

I kissed his cheek. “In a Capaldi sort of way.”

As the interview wrapped up, Graham did his classic “red chair” segment. Someone told a story about accidentally kissing their dentist under sedation, and Lewis nearly fell off the couch laughing.

Pedro flipped the chair without hesitation. Olivia asked for details. I clutched Lewis’s hand as he lost it completely, tears in his eyes, shaking.

“I want that played at our wedding,” he muttered, wiping his face.

“Our what now?” I teased.

He froze. “Our... next promo event.”

“Smooth,” I said, biting my lip.

“Like my brain: undercooked and full of cheese.”

As the credits rolled and the cameras cut, Graham turned to us with a genuine smile.

“You two are absolutely brilliant. You should host your own show.”

Lewis grinned. “Only if there’s unlimited pizza and emotional trauma.”

“Isn’t that what TV is?” Olivia added, laughing.

We took selfies, gave hugs, and eventually left the studio, still buzzing with the kind of joy you don’t get from just working. This was something different.

It was love. Ridiculous, hilarious, beautifully weird love.

And as we climbed into the car outside, Lewis laced his fingers through mine and whispered,

“D’you reckon the King was watching that?”

I snorted. “He’s probably writing a fanfic as we speak.”