Yours Truly - Epigraph

Yours Truly - Epigraph

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff, fantasy vs reality (if that makes sense lol)

・❥・Word Count: 56

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. None.

・❥・ Notes: A brief epigraph before we go into the prologue.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I love the silent hour of the night, 

For blissful dreams may then arise, 

Revealing to my charmed sight, 

what may not bless my waking eyes."

- Anne Brontë, Best Poems of the Brontë Sisters 

prologue

Yours Truly | Journal entry no. 1

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 491

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW.

・❥・ Author's Notes: So this is a peek into what Nova is thinking at this point. This is a supplemental material to the on-going series 'Yours Truly' therefore, DO NOT read this unless you have read the between chapters 1-6.

|chapter index |prev|next

--

AN ENTRY FROM NOVA'S JOURNAL 

November 22 , 2022

Dear Journal, 

I know that despite buying this journal a while ago, I have never really written an entry in it. I've written quotes that I found from books and maybe my favorite songs. But I've never written a proper entry. I like to think that people write in their journals when something interesting happens in their life, and honestly-speaking, my life is not very interesting. 

But something happened. Suddenly. And I guess this is the point where I think it's only right for me to make this my first journal entry. 

On my 21st birthday, I made a promise to myself that I will try to take more chances. Which I know it a big statement for me. But I will try to do this. Luke and Charlotte helped me make a list. So in some way there is still order amongst the point of being spontaneous. 

I've been having dreams recently. Not normal ones I believe. I've been having consecutive dreams for the past week now. In my dreams, this man appears. He first appeared in my dreams on the night of my 21st. It gets crazier. I know that people dream about celebrities all the time, even more-so when people have a crush on a celebrity. But this is when it gets strange.

Elvis Presley appeared in my dream. And people can say that dreams don't make any sense anyways. But I never really thought about Elvis Presley. I mean, sure I watched the biopic of him when it was released during the summer and that was the first time I really learned about him. But for him to suddenly appear in my dreams? Consecutively? 

It gets crazier. 

Each time I wake up from these dreams, I remember everything. Every detail. Every conversation that I have with him in the dream. I am usually a person that looks for logic and scans a situation to know what's going on, but this makes me dumbfounded. 

Our conversations - they sound normal. like a normal conversation you would have in real life. But there is something more, something that I don't know. It's strange because Elvis, the way he acts, it's like he knows me. Certain details about myself and the way he is around me - it is like he has known me for so long. And I know that can easily be explained by how there is a part of the human brain that subconsciously generates personal dreams. 

But I just have this doubt inside of me. Something is going on, and it frustrates me to no end that I don't know what that something is. 

He says that he'll help me experience the things on my list, the goal of living life to the fullest. To try new things. So I'll try and focus on that instead.  

After all, dreams are just dreams. . . right?

Till next time journal. 

Nova. 

next

Yours Truly - Chapter 1: Make a Wish

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 4.1k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. But a brief mention of a sexual topic (nothing extreme), curse words.

| chapter index | prologue | chapter 2

--

NOVA 

When things appear to be blissful and tranquil, that can be snatched away from you in an instant. 

"I knew I'd find you here," A confident statement followed by a sigh, not long after. The empty seat beside me creaks by the motion of being pulled back, as the person occupies it. I observe this in my peripheral vision, but my eyes are fixated on the pages and it's ink in front of me. 

My unchanging position quickly goes noticed by the person beside me, as their hand appears right in front of me - right in the middle of the words that my eyes are drinking in. 

"Luke!" I exclaimed, quickly turning my head towards him. My voice seemed to alert the librarian, as she shushes me very abruptly, a firm glare in her eyes. Both Luke and I mouth a 'sorry' before I turned to glare at Luke. 

He threw his hands up in defence, a grin etched on his lips from the success of disrupting my concentration. 

"I just had to," He shrugs, "your eyes were practically glued to that book."

"But rightfully so!" I flipped the book to show the front cover to him, pointing my finger at the title as if to say matter of fact. 

Luke frowns, confusion wiped his features, "I don't get it." 

"Hamlet. Shakespeare? For our assignment?" 

He snaps his fingers as his mouth utters the realisation, "Oh!" 

I nodded and shook my head, "Exactly." 

"When's the deadline?" He inquiries, a slight panic in his tone - but not quite. Luke was always that person that did not have one single panicky bone in his body. Instead, calmness ran through his veins. Very laid back. Too much, I sometimes think. 

"In three months."

"You are crazy, you do know that right?" Disbelief is written all over his features. 

"Hmm. is that a rhetorical question?" I asked, a smile playing on my lips. 

I do understand Luke's friendly concern over my perhaps 'extreme' attitude of studying. I start an assignment as soon as the professor announces it, never wasting any minute. It allows me the time to construct a first draft, then edit it, then write a second draft. The second draft I find is the midway of the getting that final draft perfect. Precisely on point. 

"Anyways, " I begin, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?" 

"Two things." 

"Good or bad?" I tilt my head at him. 

I met Luke two years ago at the very start of my life as a university student. It was orientation day, and it wasn't anything entirely unique - we were stood next to each other in the line to get our ID's. I made a comment about the scorching heat of the sun, and he turned around to inquire whether I needed to borrow any sunscreen. A very odd way to start a conversation. We later found out that we shared one class together, Creative Writing. From then on, we hung out and naturally formed a friendship. Although, we couldn't be more different in some cases. 

This may be one of those cases. 

He grinned playfully, "Depends on what your definition of those are."

"I know we never share the same definition of either of those." I squinted my eyes at him, smiling. 

"Touché."

"I like him." Luke stated, all the humour from his face has vanished and in its place is a dawned realisation and an unmistakable fear. There is no exaggeration when I say that Luke and I are polar opposites. He always took the leap into the unknown, never over-analysing possible outcomes - he just goes for it. Never a silver of fear and panic in him. 

So to see that very rare emotion clear in his face - I knew that my friend was in a delicate state. 

"Who?" I asked. I already had a gut feeling on who he was referring to, but to hear it from himself would confirm this. 

"Matt." 

I felt my heart sink for him. Luke and Matt began a friends with benefits situation, no strings attached. In our generation, that type of arrangement was not uncommon - and yet, I still worried for my friend, as I recall when he brought it up to me a year ago. Luke may be a very laid back person, full of spontaneity and fun - but he is prone to being caught up in the web of infatuation, very quickly and deeply. On the other hand, I knew Matt. Not closely, but enough to be aware that he is not a relationship-type of guy. So, I warned Luke about this - warned him that the no strings attached situation has its risks. An emotional risks that has the possibility of ending unfavourably for him, so this confession from Luke spikes up that worry that I felt when he first told me about their arrangement. 

"Oh, Luke," I reached my hand out to lightly touch his arm, not wanting to say anything much yet. I wanted to give him the time to process his thoughts and voice them out to me. I needed to listen first. 

He shook his head, "F.uck, I know. I remember you warned me about this. It was going as it usually is, Nova. Then. . . I don't know, " His eyes drift away from mine, as if recalling certain moments. 

Luke proceeded to tell me certain instances where Matt would cross the boundary of the 'no strings attached' situation. Simple, yet it's an intense touch of one's mind. Gestures and actions that two people in relationship would do, a romantic couple. He then continues on to tell me that he finally confessed his feelings to Matt, but has been successfully avoiding him ever since then. 

"I feel like s.hit, Nova." He groans, "I unloaded all of that to him, and ran for it. But I just don't know what else to do. I told myself I'll never find myself in this situation, and yet here I am." He mumbles the last part of his sentence, head in his hands on top of the library desk. 

"Hey," I shake his shoulder comfortingly, "there's absolutely nothing wrong with running away. You did the hardest part Luke, you've got to give yourself credit for that." 

He sighs, "Credit for what?"

"Being damn brave enough to tell him about how you feel, am I right?"

A second of silence. 

"Right. I've got to agree with the voice of reason, I guess." A smile slowly breaks out from him, attempting to lift himself up from despair. 

"Which I am?" I gestured to myself, smiling. 

"From day one. " He sits up, "I want to know what Matt says, but I also don't want to ever know. F.uck. Why is adulting like this? Ever since I started my twenties, life has been putting me on maximum level of danger-type of emotional rollercoasters. " Luke chuckles. 

"Yeah, I get you. But we can only control what we can. No use trying to hold onto things that was never in our hands in the first place." I shrug.

"You know what? Instead of reading books, you should write your own. Like 'Nova's survival guide to life.' or some s.hit." Luke jokes, using his hands for dramatic effect. 

I laugh and shake my head at his ridiculous idea. 

"What? I will bet my left nipple that there will be hundreds lining up to grab a copy of that. You have always been the wise one out of us two." 

I continue to shake my head and dramatically sigh, "I just like being prepared."

Luke snorts, "Uh-huh. But. . ."

"Yeah?"

"Your birthday is in less than twenty-four hours." 

"I am aware of my own birthdate, Luke." I chuckled, but I know that he is indicating to something more with it. 

"What I meant to say is that now you are turning twenty-one. . . maybe just be a little reckless. Don't think, just do." He shrugs. 

I tilted my head forward and he laughs, "Nah, not anything f.ucked up!"

Luke looks around our surroundings, "Libraries and books and being five steps ahead is cool, but don't be too busy looking ahead to notice what's right there in the corner of your eye."

I'm quiet for a moment, but quickly respond to Luke with a smile, "You should write your own book, you know. Like a survival gui-"

"Oh, shut the f.uck up!" He laughs. 

--

The remaining hours of me being twenty years old flashed by like a speed of light. 

I am now stood in front of my full-length mirror in my bedroom, self-consciously turning from left to right and right to left - in attempts to be satisfied with how the birthday dress feels hugging my body. It was a dark purple mini dress that reached my mid-thigh, with long sleeves that covered my arms. I rarely wear dresses in all honestly, only in certain special occasions. There's that silver of self-confidence that beats against the currents in my subconscious mind, creating a friction on my mental image of myself. 

After all, we are our own worst critic. 

My usually straight dark hair was done in loose curls, and I finished my look with a necklace my mother gifted me in advance and the earrings that my grandmother passed down to me a while ago. I always went for the simple makeup, often worried that I'll end up going overboard and looking absolutely ridiculous. So, to ease my worries, Luke's sister came over earlier to fix my makeup into something fancier, but suitable for the occasion. 

Before the conversation with Luke in the library yesterday, I already had preconceived thoughts on the matter about me trying to be 'a little reckless.' I have the habit of journalling quite often, a cathartic way to organise my thoughts and hopefully, makes some sense of it. Like I said before, we are our own worst critic. Although I am firm in my ways of being cautious and wise, the thought of being outside of those lines has crossed my mind more than once for a while now. As the weeks came closer and closer to my 21st birthday, that topic did spin in my head and cluttered the blank pages of my journal. 

When you are a kid, you gaze up at grown-ups in awe and wonder and you can't help but be desperate to grow up. There's that rush and thrill in growing up and being as 'cool' as them. But as the years of your life slip past you and you become older and older as years go by - you shake your head at that naive mind of younger you. How could they possibly think that being an adult is full of pure happiness and magic? 

And the crazy thing is, I did not realise how special it was to be a child - until childhood was over.   Now that I am in my early twenties, the more frightening it is becoming that adulthood can be emotionally abusive and there is that worry of not quite being right. I can be rational, but also feel like an inner child still. A true tug of war where we never truly know who will win. 

But I have concluded this - once you enter adulthood, it seems as though the years past by in a blink of an eye. And I do not want to find myself in a position in the future where I am attacked by this crushing regret that I did not experience life enough. So, I plan from now on, on my first day of being twenty-one years old - I will try my best to take a step outside my lines of logic. Be spontaneous. 

But just like any habit, it is easier said than done. 

I take a deep breathe in attempts to pause my thoughts and exit my bedroom door. I am quickly greeted by a chorus of 'Happy Birthday to you' by family and friends, quickly surrounding me. I smile gratefully, walking slowly towards the table. 

"Make a wish, Nova." My mother says, a bight smile on her face as she shakes my shoulders encouragingly. 

I close my eyes, blocking all the people around me and focus on one particular wish - 

I wish to finally let myself live spontaneously. Nothing extreme. Just something to help me take that first step out. Whatever it is. Send it to me, please universe. 

And with that, I open my eyes and blow out the numerous candles on the luscious red velvet cake. A pattern of applause erupts around me, and the loud music resumes with Luke being the main control of it. 

A little later on, Luke approaches me with a grin on his face, "how does it feel being twenty plus one year added to your life?"

"Weird. But I've made a decision." 

This captures Luke's attention, he looks at me curiously, "Oooooh, a decision on what exactly?"

"What we talked about in the library."

Luke's eyes widen in happy realisation. 

"Yes, that. I. . .I need to be more out there. You are right." I smile at him. 

Luke envelopes me in a tight hug, "I am so happy for you! This is revolutionary, Nova." 

I chuckle at his enthusiasm, and I am about to respond to him when something catches the corner of my eye. 

Some sort of glimmer of faint light that danced from outside the living room window. It was faint and vanished just as quickly as I noticed it. It made no sense since it was night time. It was not the type of light that came from a car's headlight, a streetlight, a flash from a phone - or whatever else. It was a light that had a glimmer to it, almost the type of glimmer you find in animated fairytale stories. 

I blinked and the light was no longer there. Tiredness might just be creeping into me. It was already 11.30PM, as the clock hanging from the wall reads. 

I broke away from the hug with Luke. 

"Have you opened any of your presents yet?" He asked. 

"Not yet."

"Ok, ok good. But we all know mine is the best." He flips his imaginary long hair in a dramatic motion and laughs.

"Of course." I roll my eyes playfully. 

Luke picks up some of the opened birthday cards, "But you've opened some birthday cards I see. Did any cash fall from any of these cards?" He whispered in a conspirator way. 

I chuckle and whisper back, "Yes."

"B.itch you better share. I am broke."

Before I could respond, Luke's curious tone stops me, "Oh, this one's different." 

I looked down at the envelope he is holding. It was a red envelope, but the red was quite faded and It had a small rope that tied it together. I furrowed my eyebrows in curiosity, It felt out of place and it wasn't just because of its color. But there was something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

"It's giving me vintage vibes." Luke says. 

Precisely!

"I was just about to say that it looks out of place."

"Hmm, maybe from your grandmother?" Luke shrugs. 

I shake my head, "I don't think so. I've already opened her birthday card for me." 

Without a second of hesitation, I take the envelope from his hands and open it in almost a frenzy. A state of curiosity overpowered me, but then there was confusion. As I peeled open the envelope with my hands, I am met with a blank white greeting card - its front and its inside is blank. No text or illustrations at all. None.

"There's nothing." I state, flipping the card back and forth as if it will magically make a difference to its blankness. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Luke says as I hand it over to him.

"I don't get it." I furrowed my eyebrows. 

Luke walks over to the source of music and turns down the volume, "Hey everyone!" everyone in the room, which is roughly only about 20 people, turn to him and stop dancing - probably in hopes to receive an explanation on why the sudden pause on the music.

"Apologies for interrupting! I just want ask who out of you all has gifted the birthday girl this blank card in this vintage-looking envelope?" He yells, waving the teared envelope with the blank card in it.

Everyone exchanges quizzical looks and shaking of heads. 

"No? No one? Okay then." Luke gets down from the chair, and resumes the volume of the music. He walks over to me and hands me the envelope with the card, "Either one of your cousins is playing a prank on you or no one really has a clue." 

"Well, it would've been nice if there was at least one letter on here. Just anything really. But I doubt it's any of my cousins, they've all collectively just greeted me over the family group chat. " I chuckle. 

"Oh well, after that shortly-lived adventure - I am starving. I think it's time we go get ourselves another slice of cake." He hooks our arms together and pulls me along with him towards the cake on the table. 

"I agree." I grin.

--

Not long after, perhaps around midnight - my guests started to say their goodbyes and head home. The energy of the party has withered down, and myself included - needed to get some much needed sleep. 

"I hope you've enjoyed your birthday, sweetheart." My Mother says, giving me a hug at the front door of my apartment. 

"I have, Mom. Thank you so much." 

"We'll text you once we get home, kiddo." Dad says, smiling at me as he gives me a hug. 

"Okay. Love you both!" 

Both give me wave before turning around and stepping out the front door. I shut the door and lock it, turning around myself and sighing in tiredness. 

"I honestly have no idea how you manage to party throughout the week." I admit to Luke. 

Luke and myself shared the apartment, so naturally he was already lying on the couch. 

"Coffee, Nova. Coffee." He shortly replies.

"Seriously though. My energy is already drained and that wasn't even a crazy party."

Luke sits up and starts to clean up the table, I shortly join him but he promptly stops me from doing so. 

"No way. You are the birthday girl, go get some rest. "

"Are you sure? I can help, it won't ta-"

"Dude, seriously. On the rare occasion that I do clean, which is right now, take advantage and just run." He shrugs. 

I laugh because it is true, Luke was a rather messy person. He was not extremely messy. But let's just say he does get lazy when it comes to the action of cleaning his surroundings. 

So, in this case, he does have a point.

"Okay, fine. Thanks, bestie." I give him a side hug and walk towards the stairs. 

Once I reach my bedroom, I fight the urge to just plop down on the bed. I change into comfortable pyjamas, remove my makeup and place my jewellery on the dresser. 

I yawn as my body finally greets the bed, I pull the duvet cover over myself. My gaze momentarily meet the journal on my nightstand, which reminds me of blank pages that I could fill to chronicle the events of today. But my fatigue is overpowering that action. 

The blank pages make my mind revisit the same state in which the birthday card had, the one that was found in that vintage-looking red envelope. It was strange and made no sense at all. Surely, if it was a prank - then there would be some kind of joke written on the card. But there was nothing on there. 

Nothing.

I feel the waves of fatigue slowly take control of my body, and I allow it. My body finally relaxes, as I am lulled into the hopes of a pleasant dream.

There is such serenity in the silence that greets you when you take a break from the world, and get that few moments of sleep. Some dreams I remember in vague details, others I do not remember at all - as if I did not dream at all and just slept in nothingness until the morning sun greets me. 

My trail of thought is disrupted by the screeching sound of train tracks, I jolt awake with wide open eyes in panic. The sound is so vivid that It is possible that it is coming from just outside my apartment, which is impossible since I don't live anywhere near a train station. 

It takes me a few seconds, but my eyes drink in my surroundings. To the right of me, a wide window that is speeding past the scenery of its exterior. My hands instinctively touch what is beside me - It seems that I am sat on a soft, blue plush wide seat. I already register my surroundings, but my brain cannot fathom the possibility of it. 

I am on a train. A moving train that is going on to I don't know where. But the wooden furnishings of the train compartment make me believe that something is out of place. It all seems so new, but so old at the same time. Like an air clinging onto the past. But not quite. 

"I found you. . . finally." A voice says, in a tone of sheer relief. 

I freeze. My head turns to the source of the voice. The source being the man sat on the seat opposite to me in this train compartment. My eyes drink him in - a wave of thoughts crash through my mind. 

His eyes are unmistakably beautiful. The color blue have never looked more ethereal, and the depth of his gaze made anyone maintaining eye contact with him re-adjust themselves. My throat felt dry all of a sudden. His strongly carved-out jawline was a perfect match for the deep cheekbones that adorned his face. A face that seems impossibly symmetrical - sculpted like the Greek gods one would hear about. His black hair felt into place deliciously against his tanned skin. His lips was curled into that infamous smirk to nicely add onto his overwhelmingly attractive aura. 

It would be impossible to not know who I am facing. 

"I. . .how? you?" Words fail me as I point at him. 

He shakes his head, an amused chuckle escapes his mouth, "Hi, honey." He says, that deep southern drawl prominent in his tone. 

I take a deep breath, "You're. . . him. Elvis Presley." I could not believe the words coming out of my mouth. 

He nods, that smirk of his still very much there, "Yes. Yes I am. " He swiftly gets up, "Hold on." 

He leaves the compartment and shortly returns with a glass of water, "Thought you might need it, darling."

He hands it to me and I gladly accept with a 'thank you', but my brain cannot comprehend the situation. While I'm drinking the water, I cannot keep my eyes off him - his aura was intensely surrounding me, but also the flood of questions that my brain begs to be answered. 

His blue eyes never left mine, with the depth in his gaze - there was something else. There was a sense of disbelief I see in them, but pure joy mixed in too. 

He leans in slightly and with a smile softly says, "I'm glad you're awake, Nova."

next chapter

Yours Truly - Chapter 5: Questions, Questions, Questions

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. speeding lol, minor character injury, quite angsty.

|chapter index| prev | chapter 6

--

NOVA

A sharp gust of wind blew past me, its never-ending force meeting my skin. It was difficult to adjust to my surroundings, for all I saw is the landscapes flying by past me. Then it occurs to me - I am on a moving vehicle. And I am most certain the person operating the said vehicle - is him. 

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed. 

"Hold on, honey!" With his response, I circle my arms around his waist tightly. 

I have heard of Elvis' love for vehicles. His iconic Pink Cadillac was only one example, but I have heard of his collection of hundreds of cars and evidently-so, his love for motorcycles it seems. 

"Since when did you have a motorcycle?" I inquired, trying my best to level my voice to a volume that he will hear me, despite the encompassing wind. 

"What?" He countered back, briefly turning his head to me before refocusing back on the road. I attempt to repeat my question, but know that he could not hear me - so I focus on stabilising myself on the speeding vehicle and frantically try to distract myself on the fact that this is happening. 

I feel my heart beating loudly against my chest, like it's a beat away from truly escaping out of it. I have steered clear away from motorcycles in my life so far. They are the epicentre of everything that symbolised danger and higher chances of the safety line being crossed. I enjoy my peace and my safety, thus I never saw the appeal of riding a motorcycle. 

Elvis' howling laughter shakes me out of my thoughts. 

"Woohoo! Ain't it fun?" He doesn't turn his head around, but I can sense that he is grinning from the pure sound of glee in his voice. 

I shake my head and then realise that he can't see me. 

"You are crazy!"

He increases the speed which I did not think was possible from the rate that he was going, but it was. My eyes shut with the veins of fear gripping onto me, like it always did. At least maybe with my eyes closed now, it wouldn't be as frightening and we will get to where we are heading soon. I feel my hands tighten around his waist, in desperation that I do not fall off this motorcycle. 

The universe must've heard my prayers as before I knew it, the pace slowed down and the gust of the wind slowed. The motorcycle stopped. I hesitatingly open my eyes to confirm that we have in fact stopped. 

Elvis put the brakes on and swung his legs off the motorcycle, standing up. This is when I briefly realise what he is wearing. A classic black leather jacket, with a black turtleneck underneath and black pants to match. He swiftly took off his helmet, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair briefly. 

How is he so good-looking? 

It really is unbelievable. 

"You need help, doll?" He smirks, that annoying smirk of his. 

"Huh?"

"When you are done checking me out, I can give you hand off the motorcycle. If you'd like." He chuckles at me. 

 I feel immense heat rush up my cheeks. I am horrified.  Was I really staring at him for that long? Nova, get yourself together. 

"I - I wasn't, " I stammered in which he rose an eyebrow at me, "Oh, shut it. I can get off this fine."  I said before he approaches me. 

Frankly speaking, it does suck that I am shorter than him. Tall people really do have the advantage of a lot of things. For instance, getting off a motorcycle does not require taking multitudes of time trying to get your feet to reach the ground. A problem that I am encountering as of now. 

"Are you sur-" 

I cut him off with my hands up at him, "Yeah, I got th-"

My sentence is cut off by the imbalance of my body, as I feel my body met the ground. That f.ucking hurts. Ouch. 

I hear Elvis rush to me, "Nova? Are you okay?!" 

I feel him take the helmet off me as he places my head onto his lap. His hands gently cup my face, and its contact does not go unnoticed. His hands are cold, but nevertheless, the fact that his skin is in contact with mine - it leaves me breathless for a brief second. 

Wincing at the pain, I try to open my eyes and see his blue ones meet mine. His once carefree smirk is gone, and is replaced by a frown and concern swimming in his eyes. 

"You are so f.ucking lucky that I landed on grass and not concrete!" I scold at him, hitting his arm with my hand lightly. 

He is confused at first, but then releases a sigh of relief. He shakes his head at me, "Hey lady! Here I am checking if you are hurt and you. . ." He trails off, but a smile is slowly creeping up on his lips. 

"I'm real glad I found you, Nova." 

I squint my eyes at him, "Elvis, you keep saying that. But you won't tel-"

"We are going to need a band-aid for your knee." He confirms, as he rolls my jeans up slightly to check my leg.

--

Pastel colors of orange, pink and purple adorned the canvas of the sky. The gentle sound of the water harmonised perfectly with the breeze of the trees. I sighed in the tranquility, and leaned back on the wooden bench. 

"This is nice."

"Yeah, it is. It's the quiet that I think every person needs once in a while." Elvis says, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at the glistening sun's reflection on the lake. 

"Very true. Especially after falling off a motorcycle," I emphasised jokingly. 

He turns to me and puts his hand up in mock-surrender, "Honey, I offered to help and you declined." 

I rolled my eyes at this, "Fine. I'll give you that. But you better explain to me why were we on a motorcycle in the first place?" I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Didn't you say that you wanted to be a little more reckless, live a little?" 

"No, I didn't." 

But I did. Yes I definitely did. But I didn't verbalise it out loud. I said it in my mind when I blew out the candles at my birthday party. 

"Yeah, you did."

I don't argue with him any further and instead move on to a different question. 

"I have a question."

"Okay," He smiled, biting his bottom lip, "I'll answer it only on one condition." 

"What?"

"Trust me." 

"But-"

He moves closer to me, and holds my hands, "You and I both know that you wished to live more spontaneously. To be more open to new experiences and just live. I can help with that, and I promise you with all my heart that I won't let you get hurt, Nova. I know that there's that band-aid on your knee, but that is because of your own stubbornness."

My lips fail to stop the smile on my lips. 

"Okay, Elvis." 

He releases a sigh in relief, and he releases my hands. 

"I want to ask my first question now." 

"Go ahead." He smiles, although he is no longer holding onto my hands - he is still very much sat right next to me on this bench. There is literally no space between us. 

"How is this happening? I mean, how are you here again? I thought dreams are one-off. They don't continue like this." 

He shrugs, "I don't know, honey. I guess the boss up there owes me a favour." He points to the sky and chuckles. 

"Elvis!" I groaned, slightly annoyed. 

"Nova!" He grins. 

"Answer me seriously." I say. 

"I am, I swear."

I thought for a second. 

"Okay. How about this; I ask a question and you can only answer with one word." I say seriously, trying to decipher if he will agree to this. 

After a little back and forth, he finally agrees to this. It will give me a peace of mind. It has to. Because at the moment, this is not making any sense. Weren't dreams supposed to be different each time we dream? We don't continue of the last dream, don't we?

"Am I dreaming right now?" I take a deep breath, awaiting his answer. Although he kinda answered this before on our initial meeting, I want to ask him again. 

"Maybe."

He's playing safe. 

"Why are you in my dreams again?"

"Promise." 

I furrow my eyebrows at this. Promise? 

"What do you mean?"

"Uh-uh. Only one word, honey. remember?" He smirks. 

I sigh frustratedly and continue on, "Was your song playing on my way to lectures this morning. . . was that a coincidence?" 

"Nope." He shakes his head, more amused than ever at my confused features.

"Did you like the song by the way? It's not as known as my other songs. But it was a fun song from my movie called 'Live a little, love a little'." 

I freeze. He really-

"Are you real?" 

For the first time in this line of questions, Elvis simply nods and does not verbalise a response. 

"How do you know me?" I ask, and sense his body stiffen. There is that tension in his shoulders. 

"Let me rephrase that. . . who am I to you, Elvis?" I ask nervously. His features are etched with seriousness, and for a second I see a glimpse of an internal battle with himself. He opens his mouth to respond, but closes it once again. He looks away for a second and closes his eyes, exhaling. When he meets my eyes again, his eyes are red with the evidence of tears trying to break out.

I have never seen him cry in this short time I have known him so far, and I suddenly feel guilty for asking this. 

"Elvis. . ." 

I feel a tightness in my chest. 

"Nova. Please, please. . ." He bits his lip, holding back tears, "Please ask me something else." I notice that his hands are back in holding mine. But the hold is not gentle like before, this time it's like he is clutching my hands. Like when you are holding onto something to give you strength. 

I feel my throat dry. Suddenly, my mind is empty of any questions.

"Do you know how to swim?" I smile at him. 

He breathes a deep sigh of relief and chuckles, and I feel my chest become lighter to hear him chuckle. 

"Yeah."

"Good because I don't." I laugh. 

next chapter

Yours Truly - Journal entry no. 2

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 468

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. This is supplemental material to the on-going series 'Yours Truly' please DO NOT read this if you have not read the previous chapters 1 to 10.

chapter index | prev | chapter 11

--

AN ENTRY FROM NOVA'S JOURNAL 

December 9, 2022 

Dear journal, 

Well, I suppose here we are with the second entry. I thought it was about time I gather my thoughts somewhere, on what has happened in my life so far. 

First and foremost, he is still appearing in my dreams. There has never been one single night that he hasn't. Just last night. . . he helped me cross another item off my list - crashing a party. or a wedding reception, more like. I just can't explain how I can always remember every detail. It's not like a snapshot of a blur of photos. No it's more than that. 

I remember our conversations. every single word. And how each one is said. I remember how he smiles or gives me that mischievous grin of his. I remember the way the sun touches my skin and the chatter of people and the music and his sneaky kisses. 

All of it puzzles my mind. 

I do know that I can't tell Luke or Charlotte about any of this. They are my good friends, but this is beyond the level of being comprehensible. Heck, even I would give them a look if one of them told me something like this was happening to them. It does not sound remotely logical. It does not sound very. . .Nova. 

But there are a few things that I am sure, that I am certain of. I while ago I asked him if he was real and he nodded. There is a chance he's real. He mentioned at our first meeting on the train that he is aware that he died. Then that could only mean that he is a ghost appearing to me from the afterlife? That is the only logical answer I could pinpoint. Even coming to terms with that, it clutches at my heart, an indescribable feeling I can't quite comprehend. Overwhelmed and painful. I don't know. 

But if he is appearing to me from the afterlife. . . why won't he give me clear, straight answers? 

He even said that when his song came on the radio- that was his doing. But the one thing that nags at me a little is the band-aid on my knee, from when I fell off his motorcycle. . . in the dream. The dream. Last time I checked, whatever happens in dreams do not transfer to the real world. This one still really makes my head spin. 

I do enjoy his presence - it bewilders and excites me. 

But it still does leave me with the question. . .

Elvis why are you helping me? How do you know me?  Why and how do you know all these details about me?

Till next time journal. I do hope next time I'll have more answers. 

Nova. 

next

Yours Truly - Chapter 2: Mystery Train

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

・❥・Genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW.

・❥・ Notes: And here we are with Chapter 2! I had so much fun writing this chapter. Chapter 1 was purely to set the scene and really solidify the main characters, with only a glimpse of Elvis at the end. But this one offers the main core of the story, I believe. The heart and soul of it all. I like to be ambiguous, so I do like to leave hints here and there :) 

|chapter index |prev | chapter 3

--

NOVA 

I take a few more sips of water and gently place the glass on the floor, as my eyes find there is an absence of a table. 

I then peer at him, "Awake?" I quickly shook my head at the word. There are a few instances in life where the rule of a 'pinch-me' moment applies, this is not one of those. Those moments happen when a pleasant surprise enters your life, nothing too far out. But this does not even graze the scopes of reality even a little bit. 

Elvis nods, "Yeah." 

I shook my head again, "I don't think so. I'm dreaming." I firmly say.

"Oh, darlin," A smirk forms on his lips and briefly glances at the window to his left before facing me again, "What makes you think that?" His thumb and forefinger on his bottom lip with his elbow leaning on the windowsill. 

I try to avert my eyes from the gesture and focus back on his gaze, waiting for me to answer his question. 

I tilt my head, "I was in my bed seconds ago. it was the end of my birthday party. Now, I'm on a train - which I don't remember getting on - and Elvis Presley is sat in front of me." I gesture to him with both hands, trying to emphasise the ridiculousness of the situation. 

My goodness, even the words coming out of my mouth sound completely insane. 

His azure gaze pierced into me, "You've got it right." He nodded, an amused smirk remained on his lips. 

"So you agree? that I must be dreaming, right?" 

Elvis chuckles calmly, "No, honey. I'm sayin' I am who you say I am and we are on a train." 

"But. . .none of this makes any sense!" I scoffed, not knowing anymore who I am trying to convince more; myself or him? I place my head in my hands, trying to comprehend. 

"Hmm, I agree. " He says, catching my attention to look up at him. 

He continues, "Why serve food and drinks if there is nowhere to place them in this compartment?" He gestures to my empty glass of water on the floor and laughs to himself.

I squint at him, "What are you on about?" 

He shrugs, "What? It doesn't make any sense, Nova." 

I place my head back down in my hands, "My goodness, it's like we are having two different conversations. This is getting nowhere." I mumble under my breath. 

I shot of realisation coursed through me and I looked up, straightening my posture, "Alright. If this isn't a dream then how do you know my name?" 

"How do you know mine?" He says playfully, pointing at himself. 

"That's not the same. You are known by thousands of people, and I'm only known by my friends and family. " I explained as a matter-of-fact. 

"And I am not one of your friends?" Elvis asks, furrowing his eyebrows in mock-hurt. 

"We've never met before and it's impossible to know each other because you're. . ." My words get trap in my throat, "Well. . .you're no longer-"

"Alive." He finishes my sentence, his tone laced in seriousness - a switch from his playful nature of conversing this whole time. 

I bit my bottom lip and I slowly nod.

Silence. 

I clear my throat, "I'm sorry. I . . ." I fiddle with my thumbs, a bad habit that occurs when I cannot quite grasp the facts of the situation at hand. 

"It's alright, darlin." Elvis says quietly, leaning closely and grasps my shaky hands. 

"I just don't like not knowing anything. "

"No one does." He replies. 

"I like knowing the situation and I like the logic because then I'll be able to plan my next move. " I explain, taking my hands away from his hold. 

"I know," Elvis says, a smile forming on his lips - a smile that reached his blue eyes. 

He knows?

Elvis runs his right hand through his jet-black hair, and sighs a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, "Okay. " 

"Okay?" I raise my eyebrow. 

"If you say you are dreaming honey, then okay you are dreaming." He says for the sake of calming me down, even though his eyes are only showing how he is anything but believing his words. 

Still, it comforts me. This entire conversation that I've had with him thus far has been filled with confusion and persistent question on my part, which might have been annoying for him. But I think anyone would be thrown off by it, even more so the fact that Elvis Presley has never made an appearance in my dreams before. And for him to disagree with my judgement and dismiss this as a dream. I'm glad that he has finally offered logical reassurance, something that I needed to hear - it provides the safety of being in the once unknown environment. 

I sighed in relief, "Thank you." I feel my lips pulling upwards into a smile. 

I glance out the window, the passing scenery is beautiful. Lush green hills and evergreen trees, with that quiet hum of the wind. My mind retraces back to the first words he ever said to me, I turn back to him to find him gazing at me. 

His gaze was intense, I feel heat rush to my cheeks. 

"Um. . . I have a question."

"Go on, " He nods, encouragingly. 

"This is a dream. Does this mean you're a ghost? or. . . did I make you up?" I slowly said. 

He chuckles with a shake of a head, "You are a bright girl, Nova. Everything in that pretty head of yours can make anything happen." He points at me, a charming smile prominent on his lips.

"That doesn't answer my question." I chuckle and shake my head, "But okay, okay. A dream is a dream."

"Answer this one then." I begin. 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"When I opened my eyes you said that you were glad to finally find me. What exactly did you mean by that?" I tilted my head. Now that we have established that I am dreaming, my brain retraced the first words Elvis has ever said to me and those words do not sound like a typical conversation-starter. 

The train comes to a screeching halt and I furrow my eyebrows. Elvis pats his hands on his knees and stands up, "Looks like we're here."

"And where is that?" I anxiously ask, looking out the window as I feel a nervous pull in the pit of my stomach - the unknown again. 

"Come on, you'll see." He offers his hands to me.

"You haven't answered my question." 

His forehead knots with a frown on his lips, "I have, Nova."

I shook my head, "No, the one about why you said those words to me?"

His mouth forms an 'O' at realisation, he looks down and shakes his head - his black hair shakes lightly into a less put-together style. But yet, he still manages to pull it off. Elvis chuckles to himself and finally looks up, "You."

"Yeah I know you said those to me-"

He shook his head, "No. I mean. . ." He takes a deep breath, "You. . . I said that because you found me." He softly says, his eyes anticipate a reaction from me. 

He must've sensed the increase in my confusion, so he sighs and says, "Don't worry about it , honey. You coming with me, or be left on this train?" He playfully says, and gestures at the scenery outside the window. 

I sigh with a small smile on my lips and stand up, "Fine. Just tell me. . . where are we?" I ask, taking his hand. 

"Trust me, okay?" He grips my hand tightly in comfort. 

"But what if there's something dangerous? or it's-"

"I won't take no for answer. Sometimes, you gotta just do it and see what's out there. Sometimes you just gotta take a jump." He smirks. 

"Oh, God, that's risky! What if you're a mad man?" I ramble, nervousness piling up in my stomach. 

"You said it yourself, Nova. We don't know each other. So come with me and get to know me." 

It's just a dream.

I nod and he flashes me that infamous smirk of his, licking his bottom lips, "Let's go."

next chapter