𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 ❀ 𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨

giveon-1993

i'm obsessed with him, his music, his existence.

i got this idea, and one other from
Nerd_world 's imagine idea book. check it out. thank you ! cause i was stuck. i'll tag in every part because i don't know if they'll come out in order yet. and i'm not sure if i'll use 2 of the plots for sure.

the rest are all my own ideas.

listening to fields and other giveon songs as i write, i recommend because he's literally a godsend

——

angel's pov

i groaned, dreading the sound of my teachers' voice who has been speaking for probably 20 minutes but it felt like 20 hours.

I began to zone out , tapping my pen on the desk. they were like the ones in grade school, the one that had parts where you could place books in , instead of them being on top.

i ran my pen against the smooth surface, until i hit a rough part. i looked down, expecting scratches or holes were someone has poked. instead, i saw a short message.

'hey, I'm giveon. write back if you see this .'

unique name, i like it.

i thought nothing of it, writing back in the desk. "hey, i'm angel. i like your name.' probably won't get a response but it's whatever.

——

the next day, i sat back in my regular desk, as did everyone else.

repeating the same pattern, my teacher easily getting boring, me fiddling and distracting myself.

running my pen back across the desk, it was stopped by the same bumpy patch. "oh" i lowly mumbled, remembering what i wrote yesterday. i looked down, expecting absolutely nothing.

but i was wrong. i was met with a new message in the desk.

'thanks, i like yours too. tell me about yourself.' the small letters wrote. it had to stay small to leave space, but the desk was pretty big anyway.

now i was intrigued since i got an answer. nobody that i knew of had the name giveon. must be someone who comes by often but doesn't attend the school. or of course, i just looked over them.

i wrote a few things about myself down, smiling. 'wbu' the end of my short note read.

this was actually kind of cool.

——

giveon and i had been "talking" through the desk for a while now, like 6 months.

but we had switched to small index cards notes, like a week in,  so we didn't have to carve into the desk each time.

neither of us had thought to ask for each other's numbers , but this desk thing was way cooler and it was nice to stay this way. although , it would be nice to actually hold a face to face convo with him.

'hey, do you go here ? i haven't seen/heard of you.' i finally asked him.

it wasn't too much convo we could have though, since it was kinda annoying to have to wait literally a whole day to get a response.

but we made it a thing to where every friday we would write a lot to each other so we could actually have fun. but i couldn't be too distracted every single day in this class, and it couldn't be too obvious.

times like this made me want his number instead. it would make it much easier.

——

'it's complicated.'was all he replied with the next day.

how complicated could it possibly be?

class for the day was over, and this semester was coming to an end soon. i walked up to my teachers desk.

"hello, ma'am. i don't mean to bother you. just a question that has been on my mind lately. who else sits my desk?"

her eyes scrunched. "nobody, you're the first person to sit there in years. you're the only one who has that seat. we usually leave it empty out of respect but this class is just too large."

respect ? respect for who?

"what do you mean by respect?"

"oh, you don't know?"

i shook my head, confused.

"giveon, he was the last person to sit there."

see, my friend sits there.

"but he died back in 1993..."

"excuse me, what?"

someone must be playing a trick on me.

——

it's short but i really like this imagine and i have ideas for a part 2 if y'all want it. (thanks again for the idea.) the next part will still obviously be this same plot but it's my own spin from here on.