On Sight • NBAVONDURK

7: A Love Scorned

Back At Home

Kentrell

His eyes direct themselves to the clock that sits perched on his nightstand. Why he still uses it in this day and age is beyond him. It's just something that he brought with him from the trenches of home and seeing it each day is a nice reminder of how far he has come in such a short amount of time. I digress, cutting his eyes over to the red glowing numbers that read '11:08' Kentrell figures enough time has elapsed. See, he didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by calling too soon but on the other hand, he's worried that if he doesn't call soon enough Durk might think he was trying to play hard to get or something and immediately become disinterested in him; which would be crushing. Also, another thought plaguing his mind- India. Who's to say tomorrow for some unknown reason they would get back together? All the more reason to pick up his phone and call now.

"You too fine ta be dis nervous ovea uh nigga you've already fucked." A chuckling Kentrell tries to comfort himself as he reaches for his phone. One deep breath later, he's drawing the device closer to himself. He goes into his contacts app and scrolls down to the one simply listed as 'Durk'; a big grin spreading across his face as a part of him feared Durk had only pretended to put his number in his phone. The fact he had actually had it just made Kentrell's heart drum with glee and butterflies. The ball of his index finger taps the name and with another tap he's calling Durk.

As he waits for him to answer, he physically cannot breathe and all he can hear is the ringing of his phone and the beating of his heart.

"Hello!" A chipper sounding girl's shrill voice rings in his ear. "Thank you for calling Elliot's Easy Pizzas! How may I-"

"Ah!" Kentrell cries, slamming the phone down on the bed- after ending the call, of course. At first, he just assumed Durk had.. had entered in the wrong number! Yeah! That had it be it, poor D-

'Nigga, you gots da be da stupidest muthafucka alive if you dink dat's what happened, jit. On slime, I can't believe I got's da be imprisioned in yo dumbass head. Can't you say fuck peace fa uh moment and see da nigga fucked yo ass like uh two cent hoe and dipped? We could be balls deep in uh fine ass brown skin but nah- you too loyal to uh nigga who can't be loyal ta his own damn fiancee.' Top scoffs inside his head with a laugh.

Drawing his knees close to his chest, Kentrell throws his torso back against his headboard, his trembling hands covering his ears. He squeezes his eyes closed. "You not real!" He screams, "Shut up! Shut up! Err time I be listenin' ta yo ass I get in trouble!" Where's his Ritalin...? That sh-

'Ha! Ritalin? Yo on dat shit again? It nevea helped befo but kudos ta you ma slimy ass idiot. Listen, iight, you gots da wrong idea. Ion be gettin' us into no kinda trouble. It's all on da police, it's dem crackas dat be fuckin' wit us. You know how it goes hea, dey can't stand ta see uh nigga make it out period. But meh? Kentrell.. 'm ya friend! Nigga, we been friends fa years! 'm da only nigga you got-'

"No! N-not true! I.. I got Tyquian, Joe.. Ben.. Jon-"

'Sa you just gon call up any one of dose niggas and tell 'em ya smashed Durk? No? Who's da only one who be knowin' ya did allat? Meh? Thought sa... sa like I was sayin', and just a heads up, nevea fuckin' interrupted meh again, baow. I disgress, he fucked you and left. Apparently, not rockin' wit chu da way you wanted ta rock wit 'im.'

Kentrell's eyelids drop down and his eyes slowly start to darken. The lower eyelid on his right eye twitches upwards. Top is toxic. He is poison. Black blood, cold emotions, fiery temper.. thoughts often on murder. Kentrell has tried, time and time again with and without Ritalin to shut him up for good. Yet, somehow someway Top always seems to make his way to him again.