//Why is this already 70th in Panic? LMAO THIS IS LIKE 3 DAYS OLD AND THE CHAPTER WAS LIKE 10 WORDS//
Okay, Brendon Urie was hot.
Smoking fucking flaming hot.
And I wasn't the only one with that opinion. Everyone agreed.
Straight boys, gay boys, lesbians, straight females, you name it. He was destined to be a model and everyone fought for the title of Brendon Urie's boyfriend, even I, but Brendon and I had already had our run just over a year ago before we cut things after word got around that he had been making out with with Josh Dun in the locker rooms at break.
And speak of the devil's key, he entered the classroom, bag hanging off the shoulder, a wad of mint gum in his mouth.
Instantaneously, the attention was brought to him. Classmates strut over, as per usual by the day, and stroke up conversation.
...
5 dazed minutes remained of Mathematics, and I was finished my assigned work. I decided there was no better way for me to spend the remaining minutes of class then to write lyrical poetry.
And so I did.
I fondled my notebook in my hand, placing it in front of me, subsiding a pen beside it. I picked up the pen, then pondered for half a minute on who or what to write it about. Brendon Urie was the first unfortunate person to come to my mind.
...
"What you got there Ross?" a short, red headed, annoying, and rather preppy girl asked, I scowled. She looked annoying, rude, and whinny. Emily Spruce was probably the most annoying girl you could ever meet, and had the dumbest theories and opinions that she went on about on and on for seemingly hours.
"Fine literature," I replied. She snorted.
"Give me a glimpse," she demanded. I rolled my eyes.
"Fuck off Emily, I will literally pour vinegar over your fat head," I warned.
She furrowed her eyebrows at me.
"There's a reason you hang out alone all the time, ya know?" she mentioned, and that was the end of it.
Maybe she wasn't trying to be rude, but I hated when people took an interest in me.
A warm breeze of nostalgia washed over me as my eyes tripped over the infamous Brendon Urie, ugly habits, but a damned gorgeous appearance, and maybe a pretty okay personality if he thought you were cool.
In my eyes, he was pure gold, and I just couldn't understand why. The way his lips moved as he spoke, the way his face creased when he laughed, the way he lead on the conversation in the most interesting ways. I couldn't hear his conversation from here, but I knew that everything discussed with his best friend, Dallon Weekes consisted of hot chicks, hot dudes, and I honestly couldn't recall of anything else other than those two topics.
I found myself getting lost in his gorgeous brown eyes, and only realized moments later that they'd wandered to my attention.
My heart stopped in it's tracks.
I was fucked.
Literally.
Fucked.
// This is so bad pffffffff my writing has hardly improved at alllllllllllll. You have my permission to stop reading if you just can't take it anymore, I know. Btw this will linger as Ryden for a while, then things will go to shit-
Just clarifying. Let me know though if you want it to be a RyDeN ending or a BrEnDoN ending-//
YOU ARE READING
Brendon Urie Want To Crawl Inside Brendon Urie
Non-Fiction"Go fuck yourself Urie" "Ok" Brendon loves himself. A little too much.
