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it had been three weeks since jamell came around taymor and tyquian's apartment, and taymor was confused. he had been talking to his friend over text, but found it strange that every time he and kentrell invited him over, he declined. he didn't show his face much around any of his new found friends anymore; especially now that they were a close knit squad.
they'd been hanging out without jamell, the exception having been twice when jonathan and tyquian weren't around.
the dark skinned twink's demeanor also seemed to change a little, and taymor noticed immediately when it started. he didn't make any judgments, and decided he'd wait until tyquian was ready to tell him the problem. he also had a strong gut feeling that tyquian was the reason jamell shied away from the group.
"hey ty?" taymor called out to his strangely quiet best friend who sat on the couch eating caramel pop corn.
"mhm?" the dark skinned man responded, not bothering to look at his mocha best friend.
"what happened between you and jamell? he won't hang out with us when you and jon are around. i mean, i get it, he's probably upset about you guys' blossoming relationship but he seems really adamant on staying away. what you said to 'em?" taymor questioned, his eyebrow raising as he played with kentrell's lime green lighter.
"stop fuckin' playing with that thang, and i ain't say shit to 'em. he came here to check on me and ended up starting shit with jon, acting all possessive and jealous and angry and shit. i told him to leave, dassit. niggas so dramatic bro."
"sounds like melvin," taymor mumbled to himself, remembering when the younger dark skin told him and kentrell the story of how he came about having a second split personality, and another, and another, until he was fully evaluated and later diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder.
tyquian turned to face his best friend, curiosity clouding his mind like a thick fog on a cold day, "and whomst is this melvin?"
"one of jamell's split personalities," taymor shrugged, continuing to flick the switch of the lighter, generating a good, inch high flame before killing it; not minding his friend's warning.
"why you say it like it's normal? that nigga got like, d.i.d. or some shit?"
"precisely."
"so this nigga crazy crazy. wiiild."
taymor rolled his eyes at his twinkish best friend's ignorant comment and turned to him, "no he's not no damn crazy. melvin is a lil bit of a nut job—"
