golgothasTerror started pestering timaeusTestified at 2:36

GT: Mister strider!
GT: Egads imagine you still being awake at this ungodly hour.

You blink in surprise. Here you were, just sitting at your desktop derping around on the internet, and lo and behold, he pops up on your PesterChum active friends list and messages you within the same minute.

TT: Yo, English.
TT: If you stayed up this late once in a while, maybe you'd notice I'm almost always online at this so-called "ungodly hour". GT: Well im sorry that i occasionally like to get a thing called sleep. You might should try it some time. *rolls his eyes in an aggravated manner*
TT: No rest for the wicked, English. Bots to build, sick rhymes to bust, mountains of adoring fans to give the ironic cold shoulder. You know what it's like.
GT: Oh well its a damn shame. I bet youre great in bed. *smirks and waggles his eyebrows*

You don't need to see your reflection to know that your face is redder than your Auto-Responder's text color of choice. Goddamn Jake. You know he's kidding. He cracks jokes like that all the time, and you know that's all they are-jokes. It wouldn't be such a problem if they weren't merely for shits and giggles, or that you were not irrevocably infactuated with him. But they are. And you are. And so the words, meant to make you chuckle and call him something like "asshat" or "dicklord" or "homo-douche", only serve to cut a little deeper into your tender emotions. Great. You briefly wonder if he really does think you'd be great in bed, but you don't bother dwelling on the fact, and so you settle on the best course of action.

TT: As much as I'm sure you'd like to find out, dicklord, I'm up to my ass in perfect plush rump over here. Take a number, English.
GT: Ahh what a blasted shame.

Stop joking like that, English. You rub the bridge of your nose irritatedly, forcing the blush back from whence it came.

TT: So. Why did you message me at this "ungodly hour" anyway, English?
GT: I need to ask you a favor.
TT: Oh, really? And what, pray tell, could you possibly require my help for?
GT: Oh bugger.
GT: Um.
GT: Well you see...
GT: Theres this girl.

And that's essentially all it took for your heart, settled nicely in the middle of your chest, to go crashing straight through the floorboards of your Houston highrise.

Of course you saw this coming. Of course. Because it's perfectly natural for him to feel some kind of physical attraction to some girl that he met-you hadn't bothered to inquire further about her, how did he know her? Because there's no way he could know that you've been pining after him for three years(practically since the day you first came across him through PesterChum's random feature). Because as far as he was concerned, the two of you were best friends and nothing more, as much as you would like to be. And so, despite your feelings on the situation and the fact that your heart felt like it was being impaled with one of your unbreakable katanas, you did the only reasonable thing you could do.

TT: What can I do to help?