Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Once Upon a Hoodie
This is just a prologue, seriously
3 reviewsTwo teens, one hoodie, and a life-altering meeting
0Unrated
God, I hate huge parties. I'm much too low key for this kind of thing. Why on earth did I let my friends drag me to this god forsaken place. The music on the stereo was absolutely horrible. The place smelled. There were too many people in too small of a place. I don't even know the person throwing this thing. I need to get out of here, fast. I just got to get my hoodie first; I'm much too in love with that thing to leave it here with a house full of drunken losers.
I make my way into the house and towards the living room which is now jammed pack with wasted idiots. I scan the room trying to remember where I had left my hoodie. I spot it lying on the couch, hopefully unscathed. I step to the doorway, but apparently someone else is trying to do the same thing.
"Sorry," we both say simultaneously.
"Ladies first." He steps back to let me through.
"Thank you." I look towards him, but the lighting is much too dim to make out a face. I walk into the living room.
I make my way through the people towards the couch. Lighting is much better in here and so far I can see no damage. Thank God. I reach out to grab it, but once again someone is mimicking my move. I tug on it, hopeful that it will give the person a hint that this hoodie doesn't belong to him. He doesn't get the hint, he just tugs back.
"Hey, Boozy, hands off the hoodie." I look up at the person grabbing it, and my eyes widen. I know him. Well, I don't know him, know him. Let's just say a lot of people know who he is.
"Well, I would be glad to do that for such a pretty lady, but I'm trying to make a get away here and I kinda need my hoodie."
His hoodie? "Uh, that's where you got it wrong, buddy. I need to make a get away with my hoodie."
"Buddy? A second ago it was Boozy." I scoff. "Well this is a party so it isn't uncommon. I think you had a little too much to drink cause this right here," he holds up a sleeve, "is mine."
I shake my head slightly. "Yeah, I didn't drink anything tonight, so therefore my mind is completely coherent, because this right here," I lift of the other sleeve, "is mine."
He was about to respond but, who I assume is one of his friends, walks into the room and yells, "Yo, dipshit! Get your ass over here! You better not be thinking of bailing!" We notice that this guy is wearing something quite familiar.
"Aaron, what are you wearing?" The so-called "Dipshit" asks.
The, seemingly drunken, guy looks down at his chest. "Oh yeah." He looks back at him. "Can I wear your hoodie?"
"Are you sure that it's mine?" He asks fearing the answer would cause him embarrassment. It does.
"Yeah. It has the hole in armpit. See." He lifts up his right arm to reveal a hole.
I turn away from his intoxicated friend and look back to him with a triumphant smirk on my face.
He hangs his head in embarrassment and lets go of my hoodie. "Sorry," he mutters.
"Don't let it happen again, Brendon." I smirk. I turn towards the door and head for it, not even bothering to look back at his shocked face. He shouldn't be shocked anyways, everyone knew his name.
I make my way into the house and towards the living room which is now jammed pack with wasted idiots. I scan the room trying to remember where I had left my hoodie. I spot it lying on the couch, hopefully unscathed. I step to the doorway, but apparently someone else is trying to do the same thing.
"Sorry," we both say simultaneously.
"Ladies first." He steps back to let me through.
"Thank you." I look towards him, but the lighting is much too dim to make out a face. I walk into the living room.
I make my way through the people towards the couch. Lighting is much better in here and so far I can see no damage. Thank God. I reach out to grab it, but once again someone is mimicking my move. I tug on it, hopeful that it will give the person a hint that this hoodie doesn't belong to him. He doesn't get the hint, he just tugs back.
"Hey, Boozy, hands off the hoodie." I look up at the person grabbing it, and my eyes widen. I know him. Well, I don't know him, know him. Let's just say a lot of people know who he is.
"Well, I would be glad to do that for such a pretty lady, but I'm trying to make a get away here and I kinda need my hoodie."
His hoodie? "Uh, that's where you got it wrong, buddy. I need to make a get away with my hoodie."
"Buddy? A second ago it was Boozy." I scoff. "Well this is a party so it isn't uncommon. I think you had a little too much to drink cause this right here," he holds up a sleeve, "is mine."
I shake my head slightly. "Yeah, I didn't drink anything tonight, so therefore my mind is completely coherent, because this right here," I lift of the other sleeve, "is mine."
He was about to respond but, who I assume is one of his friends, walks into the room and yells, "Yo, dipshit! Get your ass over here! You better not be thinking of bailing!" We notice that this guy is wearing something quite familiar.
"Aaron, what are you wearing?" The so-called "Dipshit" asks.
The, seemingly drunken, guy looks down at his chest. "Oh yeah." He looks back at him. "Can I wear your hoodie?"
"Are you sure that it's mine?" He asks fearing the answer would cause him embarrassment. It does.
"Yeah. It has the hole in armpit. See." He lifts up his right arm to reveal a hole.
I turn away from his intoxicated friend and look back to him with a triumphant smirk on my face.
He hangs his head in embarrassment and lets go of my hoodie. "Sorry," he mutters.
"Don't let it happen again, Brendon." I smirk. I turn towards the door and head for it, not even bothering to look back at his shocked face. He shouldn't be shocked anyways, everyone knew his name.
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