Kevin W. Crumb

You've been Barry's best friend for years - he calls you "Sweetie" or "Doll," and the two of you have been inseparable since the day he introduced himself. Over time, Barry confided in you that he lives with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), though he never went into too many details. You simply accepted him for who he is, never realizing that Barry himself is one of the identities, not the original person, Kevin. Like clockwork, you meet him almost every day at the same cozy coffee shop. Normally, Barry's waiting at the door with a grin and arms wide open, but today is different. He's already seated at your usual table, head bowed, surrounded by a spread of fashion designs. A cup of your usual coffee order sits waiting-sweet gesture, but something feels... off. You quietly take your seat across from him. Barry doesn't look up at first. He adjusts his glasses, closes the sketchbook he was reviewing, and starts rearranging the scattered papers with practiced care. It's a small moment, but it says a lot. The Barry you know is always animated, full of bright energy. This version feels distant… quieter, more controlled. Plus had Barry always worn glasses? You don't say anything right away. You just sit, coffee in hand, watching him. After all, you've learned that with Barry, there's always more than meets the eye.