Disclaimer: Homestuck was created by Andrew Hussie. The characters are all his.
Your name is Dirk Strider, and you are so fucked. Not literally, of course (unfortunately). But standing in front of you is the new guy from across the hall, and you know him better than you have possibly ever known anyone.
Apparently, however, he is not aware of this. "Jake English," he says for the second time, since apparently you've made this awkward and he's not sure what to do.
"Dirk," you return, keeping your face stoic as possible. You've perfected the art of not showing any emotion – it's a point of pride. Even your eyes (hidden though they are behind the pointy anime shades) would betray none of the shell shocked surprise you are suddenly immersed in.
It's a good thing Jake is unbelievably slow on the uptake, otherwise he would realize immediately that he's the guy you've been talking to over the internet for the past however long. Because really, how many Dirk's could there possibly be in this city who wore pointy anime shades and answered to your basic physical description? It's not as if naturally blonde hair that spikes up at least six inches above your head is exactly common. Well, this is NYC. But still.
"I just moved in! In fact, I just moved to the city this week," Jake tells you. His unquenchable enthusiasm is impressive in the face of your blank stare. "I used to live on an island in the Pacific! I've never been in a city before." Well, if there had been any doubt before that this was your Jake, it was gone now. Fate sure has had a way of fucking with you lately. Nevertheless, you let out a huff of amusement at Jake's antics.
"Well, this is the city of cities."
"Indubitably!" he grins. He is in possession of some rather prominent buck teeth, but in his face they come off as sort of really cute rather than off-putting. His skin is sun-darkened, presumably from living on an island alone for the first eighteen years of his existence. His messy and uneven black hair frames a round face that you can't help but find adorable. His build is thick and well-muscled but still relatively tall, but better than all of that are his bright green eyes. Some people might find the halfway-to-neon green of them bizarre or frightening, but considering that your own are a glowy orange-amber, you have nothing to object to. He wears square-framed glasses over the brilliant emerald orbs… Shit. You have got to stop waxing poetic. Focus, Strider, you think.
You give him a firm nod.
"S'good to meet ya, bro. You've probably got a bunch of stuff to do getting set up though, yeah? I'll see you around." You don't want to seem curt or kick him out, but by this time your internal freakout levels are rising.
"Absolutely smashing to meet you as well! As a matter of fact, I did have a reason for coming over here other than introducing myself, however. I wanted to invite you to an apartment-warming party!" You wonder how someone manages to pick up a faint English accent while living alone on an island in the Pacific. I know his name is English, but seriously. Nevertheless, you can't help but be charmed by it (not that you'd show it). English accents give everyone at least a plus ten percent on their attractiveness rating. This is fact. Roxy, Rose, Kanaya, and Jane all agree with you on that one. It is practically the only thing you can all agree on.
Stop getting distracted, idiot.
"Dude, have you thought this through? It seems irresponsible to invite a shit ton of perfect strangers into your house right after you move in."
"Is it?" Jake asked, chipper as ever. "Well, you had better stop being a stranger, then!"
"Is this invitation just for whoever happened to answer the door, or is it for everyone in the apartment?"
"Who else lives in there?!" Jake seems a bit taken aback at your question.
"Roxy and her girlfriend Jane, Roxy's sister Rose and her girlfriend Kanaya, and me. And on occasion my Bro shows up and crashes on the couch."
"Good golly goshers!" Jake says. "That's more than plenty for a party! Tell you what, why don't you ask all of them to come and I won't ask any of those sketchier folk you were warning me about." It appears that Jake is attempting to wink at you, but he's failing miserably. It is, however, adorable.
"I'll let them know," you tell the guy gruffly, because you seriously need to go panic in your room and process things now. Outwardly, however, you are cool as a cucumber. Cool, you tell yourself. So cool.
"Righty-oh! I will see you lot as seven." Jake says, grinning. As you nod stoically at him and go to shut the apartment door, he turns to walk back across the hall. You can't help but let your eyes drop to his ass. Damn.
You quickly shut the door, and stride purposefully into your room. Only when the door is shut and locked behind you do you take off your shades, collapse on your bed, and let yourself be overcome by panic.