Yours Truly - Chapter 5: Questions, Questions, Questions

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 - Chapter 3: Hold My Hand

・❥・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. High above the ground, fear of heights, unsteady infrastructure.

|chapter index |prev | chapter 4

--

NOVA

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

My eyes dart from the structure before us and to him. The structure in question is a narrow, wooden bridge that is held together by a thin rope. There is around a dozen horizontal wooden slabs that make up the bridge, which emits concern as there are gaps in between - it is incomplete and clearly hanging by a thread. 

A hundred feet above ground. 

I desperately shake my head, "Nope. Definitely not. "

"Tell me why," He urges, with a casual shrug. 

"You have got to be kidding me. Elvis, look at it!" I gesture with both my hands towards the bridge, in pure disbelief at his calm demeanour. 

His eyes briefly flicker to the bridge, "I am looking." 

I firmly cross my arms across my chest, "Well, what do you see?"

"A bridge, honey. A bridge." His tone was laced with undeniable amusement, his lips curled in that infamous smirk. When I gasped in disbelief, he returns his gaze back to me. 

"One foot on that thing and we'll be saying hello to the ground below!" I exclaimed, desperately searching for an inkling of sense in the man before me. 

"Ah, that's a good rhyme." 

Elvis turns his back to me and inches closer to the edge of the cliff, I feel my heart hammer against my chest, the veins of fear wrapping around me. 

"What are yo-"

"Hello ground below!" He cups his hands around his mouth as he dramatically yells. He walks back to me, in which I arch an eyebrow at him. 

"We say our hello now, then we don't have to say it later." He chuckles. 

"You are unbelievable." 

"A lot of ladies have said that to me," Elvis smirks, tilting his head to the side. 

It does not look like any sense of seriousness will arrive in his mind anytime soon. For the past five minutes we have been debating back and forth about crossing the bridge. And yet, in that duration of time - progress has been nonexistent. The only fact that stands right now is that there is no other way of getting to the other side of this forest, unless we use the bridge. I know that this is a dream, but just because I am dreaming does not change how I view this situation as being completely irrational. There is always the option to turn back, and go someplace else - the safe option, the stable one, the one that I can be certain of. 

With that in mind, I turn around determined to distance myself from his ridiculous idea. 

"Have fun with that breaking bridge. I am going back, " I tightly smile. 

I don't get very far though, as I feel a hand wrap around my right arm. 

"Don't. Please." His tone of voice made my body pause. For the first time since we have arrived at this choice, his voice is void of playfulness. 

I slowly remove his hand from my arm and turn to face him. 

"Okay," Elvis says softly, "I admit the bridge ain't pretty. But please trust me?"

I sigh, not quite giving in, "I-"

"If you don't trust me. . . trust the dream." His lips curl into a smile, examining my features for any signs of agreeing with his side. 

I hate to admit it, but he does have a point. My initial reaction to the situation is how I would normally react to it in real life. I have trained my brain to chose between flight or fight mode for every possible encountered situation, to the point that I forgot for a split second that this is not real. It can't be. This is a world that my subconscious somehow created. No matter the vague answers Elvis gave me earlier on the train - that could all be a product of my imagination. So, going forward with this, no matter its craziness - it can't be terrible, can't it?

It's a dream. But why does he not directly agree with me that it is?

He continues on, snapping me out of my trail of thoughts, "You yourself told me that this is all a dream. Right? So whatever happens, you have nothing to worry about." 

I take a deep breath, "Okay. Fine." 

He extends his hand out to me with a victorious grin on his face, "Alright. Darlin', take my hand." 

I grab his hand without a second thought, as that power of anxiety slowly seeping back into me. It is a little odd, I feel like - to still feel that web of fear encapsulate me even in this dream world. I always believed that dreams were brief, and it brought out the opposite version of ourselves. That we had no time to think about our actions because it all just happens. No thoughts or feelings. Just actions. 

Then why is that the enclosing fear in my chest is so heavy and prominent?

Elvis' back turns to me, as he takes a few steps ahead of me. My grip on his hand tightens as we take the first step onto the bridge. I try to use my other hand to hold onto the rope of the bridge, despite the appearance of it representing anything but strength. Elvis took slow and steady steps, his hold of my hand never loosened - it was warm and inviting. I shake my head to regain my focus on what was ahead. 

In the corner of my peripheral vision, I see a hint of the ground below - reinforcing how high up we are. Elvis must've heard the deep breath I drew in, as he turns around, "You okay, honey?" He asks softly, azure eyes fixated on me. 

His intense gaze made me quickly nod my head with a small smile, "Yeah. Just oh gosh. . . we are so high up." I reply, bitting my bottom lip. 

"Almost there." 

Before we knew it, well more so I - we were only around four steps away from reaching the other side. The entire time I held my breath and I exhaled out deeply. But throughout it all, Elvis never let go of my hand and consistently checked up on me. His playfulness gradually returned back the way it was, with him attempting to make jokes which did manage to get a laugh or two out of me. 

"If this was a movie, I would burst into song right about now. " He laughs, shaking his head. 

I chuckle at this, "Really? Nah, you are bluffing." 

"Am not, dear." 

"In the middle of you walking across an unstable bridge? I don't think so." I strongly responded, even though I have concrete evidence of my claims. I knew that he did more singing in movies than acting, which he despised - but I have no idea how much singing actually took up the movies he was in. I never was a huge Elvis Presley fan. I have heard of him, of course, he was basically imprinted on all of American culture. I have heard a few of his songs from time to time when they played any of old, vintage songs on the radio. I know he did movies, but only recently found out about that when I watched the Elvis (2022) movie that was released this year. 

"Oh hell, you'd be surprised." He shook his head, chuckling, "I'd be doing the most random shit in a scene and my character would suddenly be handed a guitar and break out into song." 

"Yikes."

"Yep."

With one final step, we were finally on the other side of the bridge. We kept walking until we were in a great distance from the cliff edge. Elvis slowly lets go off my hand, and I instantly feel the cold wind meet it - a stark contrast from the warmth of his hand. 

I sighed in disbelief that we in fact did not fall, "Oh my gosh. . . we actually did it? You psychopathic, impulsive guy did not fail us. "

Elvis furrowed his eyebrows with that grin on his lips, as he looks mock-offended at me, "Nova, you sure know how to wound a man with your words." 

I roll my eyes at his dramatics, "You cannot blame me from my apprehensiveness." 

He mutters under his breath, as if he does intend me to hear it, "I never can." 

I keep reminding myself that we are at least 100 feet above ground, and look at the bridge that we just crossed. A bridge that really does look like it's holding onto its last breath, just like how I was a few seconds ago. The low bustling of the leaves from the trees of the forest alerted my ears, as a wash of relief and my previous fears left my body. I was looking around, looking at every corner - I just can't believe it. 

"Stop spinning or you'll get dizzy, woman." He warns, quickly placing his hands on my shoulders. 

There is that feeling that replaced fear. The fear and anxieties I previously had was like veins that tightly wrapped around my body, never letting me catch my breath. It plagued my mind with constant worry. But now, at the other end of it all - there is a light settling feeling in my chest. I closed my eyes, and concentrated on the feeling of the wind against my skin and the low hum of the birds - it all represented tranquility - all of which were blocked from me by my fear. 

"I. . . we . . .  crossed that! I just." Articulate words fail to leave my mouth, as I invite this feeling of glee. 

I felt this overwhelming sense of utter disbelief, what I just did is not Nova. I let out a loud laugh, an uncontrollable one. I cannot stop myself. I just can't. 

I opened my eyes and Elvis is staring at me. His blue eyes, still with that intensity and that never-ending amusement. 

"Now, how's that for fears Nova?" He smirks with his arms cross across his chest, his head tilted at me.

next chapter

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

saw this on twitter rn, if you ever feel discouraged about writing fanfiction, read this again

Yours Truly | Playlist 🎧

I present to you the songs that may help you through the journey of the story (in no particular order).

Already Gone |Sleeping at Last 

Mystery Train|Elvis Presley 

Walking in the Wind |One Direction 

The Sound of your cry |Elvis Presley 

Dream |Shawn Mendes 

Remember To Forget |Passenger 

Smile |Mikky Ekko 

About you |The 1975 

Snow on the beach |Taylor Swift ft. Lana del Rey 

Back To You |Twin Forks 

Somewhere Only We Know |Keane 

Labyrinth |Taylor Swift 

Fade into you |Mazzy Star 

Come Here |Kath Bloom 

When I Look At You |Miley Cyrus 

Never Say Never |The Fray 

The Night We Met |Lord Huron 

Bigger Than The Whole Sky |Taylor Swift

A Drop in the Ocean |Ron Pope 

Any Day Now |Elvis Presley 

Until It's Time For You To Go |Elvis Presley 

Kentucky Rain |Elvis Presley 

chapter index

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