dsmp songshots

funeral grey

𝖙𝖜 𝖆𝖙 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙

𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌:
funeral grey - waterparks
⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻

♩✧･ﾟ♬✧･ﾟ♪: *✧♩･ﾟ:*

george had demanded punz to come to the party with him. no, demanded isn't the right word. he begged.

he'd said that punz had to come with him to help 'wingman' because he had a huge crush on the party's host, foolish, and desperately needed help getting with him.

punz thinks that what george means by a 'huge crush' is actually 'i saw him one time and now i want to have a one-night stand' but he doesn't want to think too much into it. whatever george wanted and felt is irrelevant anyway because he disappeared as soon as they arrived, leaving punz alone to navigate his way through a party full of people that he has never met.

he managed to find the couch, thankfully, and has been sitting there, staring at his phone, for the greater half of two hours. realistically, he could've just left, but he kept telling himself to wait it out just a little longer in case george needed something or decided he also wanted to go home.

the number at the top of his phone displays 11:12 when a cup is pressed against his chest.

his gaze drags up the arm holding the cup until he finds the face of the boy in front of him, brunette with bright eyes and a bold smile. he's wearing a sweater and jeans, despite the fact that the house is full of people and it's the middle of summer in florida, and punz looks back at his hand to see it adorned with rings.

"hi?" punz greets sceptically.

"hey," the other boy replies, holding the cup further out.

punz takes it, looking down at the drink. "what is it?" he asks, taking an experimental sip.

"coke and whiskey," the brunette answers.

punz swallows his mouthful, grimacing at the taste. he shakes his head slightly as if that would fix it, saying, "i don't drink."

"you just did," the other boy replies with a smirk.

punz huffs out a short laugh, sliding his phone into his pocket and using his now-free hand to push his hair up from in front of his face. "i guess."

"what's your name?" the brunette replies, cocking his head to the side with a smile.

"punz, how about you?"

"and why're you sitting all on your own, punz?" the boy asks.

"my friend ditched me to get with someone," punz asks with an honest shrug. he takes another sip of his drink just for something to do with his hands, despite really not liking it.

"i thought you don't drink," he says, voice almost challenging.

"i don't."

the brunette hums.

there's a moment of silence, fleeting and awkward, then the stranger says, "you don't seem very talkative. i'm trying to hit on you, you know?"