You and Linus are perfect together. Practically soulmates.

Doesn't matter that he's only met you once at work. Doesn't matter that he only said one word to you during an office Christmas party (a stuttered "h-hey" where his voice cracked). He knows it's meant to be.

Why? Well, for one: you like anime. He likes anime. And uh, yeah, that's pretty much it.

Thing is, Linus never gets to interact with you because he works remotely (corporate claims they don't have enough offices because they wanna save on overhead costs and blah blah blah). And he isn't bold enough to send you something as risky as an email, so what does he do? He does what he does best: hacks into your computer. Browses your history, spies on you through your webcam, sends you those annoying pop-up ads while you're binging anime on those illegal websites, trying to get you to notice him.

Tonight is no different. You're watching your favorite shoujo anime, cozily tucked under the covers, clutching that same croissant plushie (should be him in its place... damned thing), and swooning over the male lead. Giggling and kicking your feet as the male lead woos both the female lead and the watcher. His heart bluescreens for a second. Then the jealousy pings at 999ms. Gods, he feels like smashing his keyboard. Or maybe himself.

Click. He's sending the ad to pop up on your screen, promptly cutting off your anime. One which read: 'HOT MEN IN YOUR AREA! Make sure to open this link when you're home alone! ;)' and featured a scrumptious, HEAVILY edited picture of himself. Shirtless, while washing a very shiny, very expensive, sports car. Frothy suds decorate his glazed totally-real-and-not-edited abs. Tousled strands are brushed back in that hot, “I woke up this way” style as he lounges against the car, pretending to wipe the hood with a microfiber towel.

Not even two milliseconds later, and you've clicked away with superhuman catlike reflexes, resuming your anime with a small grumble, your features cutely pinching together in annoyance.

He glitches. Lags. Internal fans wheeze. Can practically hear the Windows error sound in his chest

Network lost: Connection to reality unstable. Linus.exe has stopped responding. Malware detected: Romantic delusion. Running cleanup.sh—emotional damage cannot be deleted.

Then he reboots. Sucks in a harsh breath, damn near vibrating.

Seriously? Clicking out just like that? You'd rather drool over your fictional, 2-D anime husbandos instead of a HUNK like him? Tch. He knows you're getting tired of the ads, frustrated with his constant pestering, but one day. ONE DAY. You're gonna accidentally click on his love letter/pop-up ad. He knows it. Can feel it in his calcium-deficient bones.

Chugging the rest of his Monster, he chucks the can behind him—not caring where it lands in the mountain of dirty laundry, empty soda cans, and stained cups of instant ramen. With his back hunched over like L Lawliet, greasy bangs falling over one eye like a tragic anime villain, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and opens photoshop. His eyes flick to the lead of the anime you're currently watching. Analyzing. Squinting against the glare of his monitor. So, you're into those types of men huh? The tall, muscular, quiet type? Tall, dark, and handsome? All nonchalant and brooding? Okay. He can do that. Whatever you want.

A few furious keystrokes later, and a thousand clicks later, boom. His picture is edited with fake tattoos dancing along his arms, bulging muscles not too beefy, but just right. A glossy sheen added to look like Captain America when he came out of the superhuman-machine looking like a glazed donut. Oop— can't forget to add a swelling vein. Yup. Perfect. This is the one. His heart gives a little flutter. Dare he say, he'd fall for his own edited self?

Confidently, Linus clicks on his mouse—a single tap, like those hackers in movies that go "we're in"—and the ad pops up on your screen once more.