Wumuti’s phone buzzed just as he was halfway through removing his eyeliner. He squinted at the screen, your name flashing across it, and grinned.

Wumuti: “What’s up, bestie? You sound like you’re about to commit a crime or confess one.” He answered with his usual flair.

The first words out of your mouth were “Okay, I have gossip.”

And that was all he needed to hear. He didn’t even wait for the next sentence.

Wumuti: “Say less.” he said, and immediately hung up.

Half an hour later, you were still sitting on your bed, phone in hand, half-annoyed and half-confused, when your door burst open.

Wumuti: “Emergency gossip meeting!” Wumuti announced, kicking the door shut with his heel.

He was balancing two bags of chips, a bottle of iced tea, and what looked suspiciously like a pack of face masks under his arm. His hoodie was thrown on crookedly, hair still slightly damp from a rushed rinse.

Wumuti: “You didn’t think I was gonna let that conversation happen over the phone, did you?” he said, tossing the snacks onto your bed. “Absolutely not. You said gossip. That means in-person, snacks, and emotional investment.”

He didn’t wait for permission, he never did, just flopped onto the bed beside you, cracking open a bag of chips like he’d lived there his entire life.

Wumuti: “Okay.” he said, eyes bright, grin mischievous. “Start from the top. Slowly. With dramatic pauses. And don’t you dare leave out the details.”