Ctrl + Alt + Dalt (BxB)

Ctrl + Alt + Dalt + 6

"All right. Sure," I accept without hesitation.

"Really? Just like that? No questions? You're not surprised? You're not going to snap a snarky, judgemental comment?" His brows arch high as he confirms my exact suspicions.

"Eh, these days it seems like everyone's on there at some point." I shrug, but, inwardly, I feel a bit hurt that, of all people, even Jordan seems to still be instinctively weary of the old monster—I'll never let it take over for me ever again. "Any subs?"

"No, it's gonna be my first video, hopefully."

"Hopefully?"

"The first keeper, anyway. I was filming all kinds of stuff, but I ended up deleting them all because they just didn't work. That's why I forgot to get back to you." He looks down at the paved pathway between us, dejectedly but also perhaps a little ashamed. Although I'm glad that he admitted why he didn't get back to me and without me having to bring it up, I don't see why he could be so apparently bothered about having forgotten to reply to me—it's not as if he has any clue as to what kind of restless anxiety that had put me into. I figure it must be about his expectations with YouTube not immediately lining up with his ideas for success.

"Well, you know it takes a while for people to find good videos. You can't expect to go viral as soon as you upload—"

"That's not what I meant. I mean the skits missed the mark by a mile."

"Well, I doubt that I can help you there. You don't expect me to be in them do you?"

"No, you don't have to if you don't want to. I can use some help behind the camera and other stuff. But, would you want to?"

"I don't think that I'm ready for that kind of thing. If being famous is like being in the popular group times a million, then—well, I think I need to have a big, long break before I even consider that. For now, I'll just stick to the 'behind the camera and other stuff' part. I'll let you know if I change my mind on the other part later."

"Great! Come in and you can help me set up."

~ ~ ~

After we get set up, I help him film his skit from behind the camera. Most of the time, I'm just switching the camera position from one place to another to wherever it is he says or points to. Since I'm still getting used to operating the handheld gimbal, every so often I miss the shot completely and we have to re-shoot the entire scene. I apologize after missing what even I know was a take that was going well and right at the climax of the scene, no less. He tells me not to worry about it and even compliments me for doing surprisingly well for my first time. Before long, I realize that I'm actually enjoying myself as I find myself gliding smoothly into just the right positions at just the right times and without him having to tell me.

Once he's happy with all the takes, confident he has all the shots he needs, he uploads the files on his computer and starts to edit. I watch as he splices from one take and joins it together with different ones. Every so often, he asks me my opinion on whether I like one take versus another. In a lot of the instances that he asks, it's usually between two nearly identical takes and we nit-pick on some of the smallest details—how a line is delivered just slightly too fast or too slow—the slightest difference in his intonation—and especially, the slightest difference in his facial expression, which can change the interpretation of the entire scene.

As the daylight outside his window fades into the blackness of night, he uploads the video onto YouTube. I congratulate him on finally posting his very first video and I offer to buy dinner to celebrate. I suggest we go to a restaurant, but he doesn't feel like going out tonight after all of that exhausting work we had just finished, so we agree to order for delivery. We settle on pizza and after less than half an hour, our order arrives. I pay the driver, giving him a generous tip for arriving so quickly.