The doorbell rang. I was beside myself with excitement.

I scrambled down the stairs and opened. It was him alright, with his emblematic red lock, wrestled by the wind. He replaced it for what was likely the umpteenth time, unabashedly annoyed. When our eyes met, he lit up, and so did I. "Hey!"David said. I was weirdly thrown off; his greeting was curt, not high pitched, and not accompanied by a friendly waving of the hand. Disillusion is the right term, and I admittedly needed a truckload of it. I mean, David likely did not use "Hi! I'm Dave from Boyinaband" as a greeting for every day life. "Check this out," David began, producing his smartphone from his light jacket, "Ross from Game Grumps just sent me that message." He was already smiling and happy, and practically laughing. That's a thing I liked about Dave: his tone. It was warm. Despite that, I tended to debate whether the tone was genuine. Cool people like that are just being polite most of the time. Besides, from his past videos, I knew his brooding mood. Depressed David. It's so catchy-sounding. And I think I prefer Depressed David to Derpy David. Oh, poor David, I'll never call you either of these things in person. How you would hate it. I wish I could burn the steps and ask the deep hard grueling torturous questions. I wanted Depressed David. But in order for David to be less pleasant, I had to work. I had to befriend him. Get closer to him. I was, after all, his long time companion from the other side of the screen. He popped the texts with Ross on his phone: --- RubberRoss: Yo, I was passing by for some reason. Y'know, "across the ocean" passing by. I won't have anything to do this afternoon if you wanna hangout. ---Boyinaband: Oh, that'd be amazing! Come to my place at 8 PM maybe?That'd really be awesoe. --- RubberRoss: Quit being so enthusiastic. It's ruining your grammar. I'll be there. MAYBE. "I love how he's so passive-aggressive," Dave said, putting the smartphone away. "I hate doing typos when texting. He knows I would have edited the text I could." I didn't really care about Ross. In fact, his inclusion in the conversation annoyed me. Not annoying though, was David sharing his five cents on typos. "Oh, by the way," David said, "thanks for the help on my previous video. I don't think I've actually thanked you yet." "Yeah, no problem," I said. I went to the dining room to prepare tea, which gave me enough time to get myself together. I was fumbling with my thoughts, searching for anything to say. I've been thinking way too much about David, and now I have between fifty and eighty damn things to say to him. So I idle stupidly, my lips fighting for the next word/syllable/sound to come out. I shake my head in a twitch: I'm acting like a total creep. That's definitely out there in the first impressions: a creep. David's got no secrets, but I'm a nobody to him. And I'm a nobody who's slowly becoming just another creep. That's the thing about fanboyism: there's such a huge disconnect between what we know what they know. Fanboys see no gap, because they know everything there is to know about. But a gap there is, and it's a damn precipice if you ain't careful. "I've been feeling a bit depressed as of late." I say, "I can't be bothered to work, so I thought I'd call you over to brainstorm or chill." It's a blessed thing I had the opportunity to work with David. And the work we did together was really well received, too. I'm still just an auxiliary helping hand to him, but I know I can step it up. He doesn't know how smart I am yet. I need to know how open he is for offers. "How's the commitment contract going? How's your schedule?" I handed him the tea I just made. I completely ruined it. It was too sweet. I'm pretty sure Dave liked his tea dark and bitter. I was ashamed to hand the cup to him. Maybe I should have spilled it on the floor and pretend it was an accident.