You collect yourself and open the door, flashing a fake smile to the man standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” you say with as much confidence as you can muster, but still shift uncomfortably, “uhm… sorry.”

You brush some hair behind your ear and look away. He runs his fingers through his fuzzy mess of hair and sighs loudly,

“Listen…” he begins.

“I didn’t know how to react to the situation and I… didn’t think you’d want another fan going gaga over you.” You interrupt, laughing awkwardly, feeling a sting in your eyes and your pulse pick up a bit.

You look up to him, seeing that he clearly doesn’t know what to say.

‘Just get this over with…’ you clear your throat and look away, stiffly sticking out your hand.

“Let’s just… start over,” uncertainty lingering in your mind and voice, “My n-name is (f/n).” You return your gaze to him and smile once more, “You?”

He hesitates before grabbing your hand and shaking it.

“Mark Fischbach,” he chuckles, “but… you already knew that.”

‘In which way did he mean?’ you gulp “Right, clearly I’m a fan,” you glance over to your laptop.

“…Yeah” he responds, “Hey… do you ever get the feeling of…”

“Déjà vu?” You both say. You lock eyes with each other, but you break first and turn away.

“Sometimes,” you say, stuffing your hands in your pockets, “but most of the time I’m wrong because I’ve just seen it somewhere else, or with someone else.” You look back to him but his gaze is to the floor, deep in thought.

“You want to come in for some coffee? Or tea?” You couldn’t help it, you had seen the ‘Table Flip’ videos “Or we could converse over some political issues,” you state in a very proper accent,  moving your hand up to your eye like you’re holding a monocle, grabbing your shirt with the other hand.

You could see the smile spread on his face; suddenly he grabs the front of his shirt and grabs an umbrella by your front door, smacking it down and holding it like a cane.

“Indeed, but be wary, if we disagree,” he moves his hand to his face and twirls it as if he had a magnificent mustache, “I am not afraid to get into fisticuffs with a lady.” He puts his fists up.

You both stand there for a bit before bursting into laughter. You brace yourself on the edge of the couch as you regain your breath.

“So are you going to stand in my doorway or join me for tea and crumpets?” You giggle. He nods and steps in.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was listening to 3OH3 when I was writing this.... seemed fitting.

Best regards,

BellemueCat93