“This is it,” Leo said once we were in the heart of the city, gesturing at an unassuming door. I followed him upstairs. “Oh, wow,” I said as we arrived at a rooftop bar with a brilliant view of the surrounding skyscrapers. A waitress led us to a free table and handed us two menus. There were heat lamps scattered around the place, providing warmth against the autumn chill. Leo and I flipped through the menus and decided to order a large each, although the large sizes were trendy restaurants’ standards of large, which would be a medium compared to someplace like Dominos or Pizza Hut.
Our food arrived quickly, and after we started eating, Leo asked what got me into marketing.
“I guess it all started when I was in high school. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but…”
“I won’t judge you,” Leo promised, picking up another slice of his pepperoni pizza.
“I used to have a YouTube channel,” I said. “It was fun, but I quickly realised I was more interested in making things lookpretty rather than sharing my thoughts. I was thirteen. It’s not like I had anything interesting or helpful to say. What I liked was creating the thumbnails and coming up with cool titles — grabbing people’s attention, you know what I mean?”
He nodded. “I used to have a YouTube channel too, but the thumbnails and titles were the worst part for me. I’d just slap something random on there. That’s probably why you’re the marketing major and not me.”
“You did?” I said, surprised. “What was your channel about?”
He shook his head quickly. “You first.”
I leaned back. “I didn’t really have a niche, to be honest. I did whatever I felt like. One-person skits, reviews, vlogs, tutorials about things I wasn’t qualified to talk about, like how to have a successful YouTube channel when I’m pretty sure the most subscribers I ever had was, like, eighty.”
Leo laughed. “Better than me. I think I had 14.”
“What were your videos about?”
He mumbled something.
I leaned in closer. “Pardon?”
“Minecraft,” he said.
I squinted at him. “Why are you embarrassed? That’s totally normal. Loads of kids uploaded their Minecraft videos.”
He covered his face with his hands and groaned. “I’m just cringing at the memory of them. I’d record a voiceover as I filmed. I’d be like, ‘Hi guys, LeoCastles47 here, today I’m going to show you how to build a moat,’” he said in a high-pitched voice. “Remember to subscribe andsmashthat like button.”
“LeoCastles47?”
He nodded. “The channel’s probably still up. I don’t think I ever deleted it.”
That led to me whipping out my phone and pulling up YouTube. Leo leaned in close and part of me expected him to stop me from searching it, but he helped me find it instead.
Soon, we were watching his videos, which filmed a screen while a younger Leo talked in a squeaky voice, so different from the deep voice he had now. Puberty really did a number on him.
“So you were a creative mode kid,” I said, watching as a castle was built out of thin air on the phone screen.
“It’s way more fun that way. Why, did you play survival?”
“Of course, it’s superior. It’s actually challenging.”
We spent the rest of our meal exchanging Minecraft stories. I’d never really thought much about the game after I’d outgrown it at around fourteen or fifteen years old, but suddenly, all of my memories and knowledge were unearthed.
“Damn,” I said after the waitress had taken our plates away. “I kinda want to play Minecraft now. I might have to go and download it when I get home.”
“I have it on my Xbox,” Leo admitted.
“You do? Do you still play sometimes?”
“I haven’t in a while, with uni and work and all that. I should, though. Hey, you know what? We should play together.”
“Yeah? Let’s do it. But we’re playing survival mode.”
“Nope, my house, my rules.” He tapped his phone screen, revealing the time was past seven. The sky was darkening around us. “I live pretty close to here, so it’s a short walk.”
