Chapter Text
It was a dark and stormy night, the rustling sound of the fireplace alongside heavy rain soothing me to sleep. The warm string lights, which hung among the many Jake Kiszka posters on my wall, looked like an array of night stars in the dark setting. And there he was in all his glory, holding ever so tenderly his beloved ‘61 Les Paul as if it were his best and dearest of friends. I return my gaze to my laptop, continuing to save Jake Kiszka pins. If only I could have him in real life, I thought to myself. The idea seems impossible, but I can only dream. Plus, anything can happen.
Suddenly, I heard a tap at my window. The clock read at 1:34 AM, which gave me a chill down my spine. I tried to shake it off and tell myself it was just the rain, but I heard another tap. Ok, let’s act. What could be used as a potential weapon? I scan my room for something to fight with. A cup of pens, my phone, and a heavy book stood on my desk. I tightly grasped the book in my hands and crept toward my window cautiously. Slowly, I pull the curtain aside, and to my great surprise I saw a highly familiar face. I froze up at the realization that this was him. The Jacob Thomas Kiszka.
With only the bottom few buttons done up, his shirt hung open enough to witness the skin of his chest. He stood there alluringly, expectantly. His long, wavy locks stuck to the sides of his face from the rain, and blew over his shoulder as the stormy wind tousled his hair. As he knocks on the window one last time, I snap back into reality and take action to open it so he can come inside, hands trembling with excitement and anxiety all at once. I slide the window open, practically staring, before I speak up.
“Jake...? Is that you?”
I hold my breath as he replies, still standing in the rain.
“I,” he begins, “am Hacker Jake. I loved your fan account @jakekiszkaisdaddy69 on Instagram, and I was desperate to know more. I thought to myself, man, fuck Jita, and I found your home address so we can, you know, make this happen…”
My face flushes with embarrassment and excitement simultaneously, and before I process anything, I quickly usher him inside. He takes my hand, almost tenderly, as I help him up through the window, swiftly shutting the weather out behind him.
He shakes himself off, wet hair unsticking from his face and water splashing onto my bed. Wait a second, Hacker Jake? What is this amazing, loving, talented, sexy, god-like, immaculate, superior dude on about?
Upon my befuddlement, he huffs a small chuckle, leaning against my wall with a sort of confidence. “Weren’t expecting me, were ya?” He comments, running a hand through his hair.
I try, like, truly attempt to get my words out, but I can only let out incomprehensible mutters that eventually formed into Russian words.
“Sooo… think there's a bit of a language barrier there,” He laughs.
“I am SO sorry, I forgot how to speak English.” I reply.
“It’s fine, I have that affect on people. It’s kinda my… specialty, if ya will... 😈”