Yours Truly - Chapter 6: The List

Yours Truly - Chapter 6: The List

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.3k

・❥・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. curse words, description of minor injury, gunshot.

|chapter index|prev|chapter 7

--

NOVA

I smiled brightly and said my 'goodbye' before ending the video call. It was Friday afternoon, and I have just finished the zoom call with one of my students. As a way to make money, I have taken up the role of being an English tutor to foreign students abroad. It was all done online, of course, and the students that I teach are of elementary school age. I am thankful that this option exists, as it makes things flexible for me especially when finals come around the corner. 

I glanced at the clock and see that it has just gone three o'clock. I have extra reading that I could potentially be doing, ahead of next weeks lectures. But I think that it's time for me to relax, and enjoy my time since it's a Friday anyways. 

My phone rings and I answer it, "Hello?"

"I am starving. Please tell me that you are done with your tutoring?" I hear the desperation in Luke's voice. 

I chuckle, "Just finished now. Where do you want to meet?" 

 --

"No more. I am not eating more." I declare, holding onto my stomach. 

"I second that." Luke says, leaning back on his seat staring up at the ceiling.

"Me too." 

The three of us sat in one of the red booths at the place. Both of us decided to meet up at the KFC just roughly ten minutes away from the apartment. It was predictably crowded, as it always is in a fast food chain on Fridays. But luckily, we managed to get a space as I don't think we were in the mood for finding a different place to eat - I could literally hear my stomach rumbling on the drive to the place. Initially, it was just myself and Luke that were going to meet up - but in a surprising turn of events, another person came into the mix. 

Charlotte. 

Unlike Luke and I, Charlotte and I have known each other for what seems like forever. Our mothers have been the best of friends since they were in college, and luckily, we continued that closeness in our friendship. As cliche as it may sound, we are inseparable - like the bond of two sisters. The only time that we haven't seen each other in so long, was when Charlotte went for university abroad. She decided to study in South Korea for university. So, the only ever times that we get to see each other was when she has a semester break. During that time, Charlotte has gotten to know Luke, and unsurprisingly we all formed this natural flow of friendship. 

"I could not believe that we managed to finish all of that." Charlotte chuckles, leaning over to glance at the empty bucket of fried chicken. 

"We are monsters." Luke comments, shaking his head laughing. 

"Well, I only ate an apple for lunch. So that's my excuse, " I shrug. 

I lean over and sip my drink of orange juice, "Not that I don't love you, but why are you here Lottie?" I question, furrowing my eyebrows at her. 

"Wow, Nova." 

I roll my eyes at Luke, "Oh, shut it. I meant to say, isn't it the middle of the semester?" I directed my attention back to Charlotte. 

Charlotte nods and smiles at both of us, "No, yeah, you are right. But they have given us a week off to focus on our projects. So. . . I decided to spend a day or two out of the country." She smiles sheepishly with a shrug. 

Luke turns to Charlotte and dramatically wraps his arms around her, "I am so happy that you are here, Lottie. Nova has been such a b.itch to me!" He breaks out from the hug and fake cries. 

I scoff, "Oh my God, You are such a liar!" I throw a napkin at him, laughing at his dramatics. 

Charlotte flickers her eyes between me and Luke, "I missed you both. But truthfully, I just wanted to make sure that you aren't getting yourself into a shit ton of trouble. " She grinned. 

Luke then leaps into an update about his situation with Matt. About how he has finally managed the courage to tell Matt about his feelings, and ran away very quickly from him. To summarise, Luke has been ignoring Matt for the past two weeks now. His phone has been flooded with endless voicemails and messages on his socials. I mean, I did try to advise him to just see Matt again and end it right there and then. Have that closure, so he does not have to worry about all these methods of Matt trying to reach out. But in the end, Luke decided to leave him a super long voice message. 

"So, yeah, I fucked up." Luke summarises, taking a drink of water. 

Charlotte shakes her head, "I don't think so, Luke. I think you fell for him." She smiles, understandingly. 

That's the thing about Charlotte. She is soft-spoken, but at the same time is not. Ask any advice from her; she will not sugarcoat. But at the same time, she will hurt with you if you are crying. She is both a risk-taker, and holds onto the safety-net of life. I guess that's why she's such a good blend to our small friend group, it's because she is a good mix of both myself and Luke's personalities. She's the balance. 

"Which is exactly why I fucked up. It's not like I planned to." Luke groans, hitting his head on the table. 

"Luke, don't hit your head." I cringe at the sound.

He stops and sits back up, releasing a deep sigh. 

"I don't think anyone ever plans to fall for someone. They just do. It happens." Charlotte began, "And just because he does not feel the same - does not mean it was a crime to fall for him. You said what you had to say, and now you can part ways." She shrugs. 

Luke tilts his head at her words, "You are a wise, wise friend. Both of you are, actually. Why are you both friends with an idiot like me, again?" He shoots us a quizzical look. 

"Who says we are friends?" I joked, laughing and Charlotte joins in. 

Luke mock-gasps dramatically with his hand to his chest, "Are you hearing this, Lottie? After premium friendship services I've provided her. I am deeply, deeply offended." 

Our laughter dies down, eventually. 

"What about you, Nova? Anything new with you?" Charlotte's eyes glint in curiosity, grinning at me. 

Yes. I think so. But should I say it? Or will they both think that I am insane? 

I shake my head, "Not really." 

No, I will not tell them about him. At least not yet. Not until I figure the situation out myself. I'll keep this secret in the meantime. 

Charlotte frowns a little, "Come on, you have to live a little Nova. "

"This is what I've been saying!" Luke says, gesturing towards me. 

"Before you guys attack me, "I speak up, "I will say this. I promised myself on my 21st that from now, I will try to be a little more out there. Key word: try." I emphasised, waiting for their reaction. 

Charlotte claps excitedly, "YES! This is what I've been waiting for you to finally do." 

Luke gasps, as his eyes lit up, "I have the perfect idea. I really am the genius among us three." 

I roll my eyes at him and smile, "Okay. What is it?"

"A list. You need a to make a list of everything that you haven't done before. Like a bucket list kinda thing." 

I pause at his suggestion. They must've sensed my apprehensiveness.

"I don't know, guys. That seems like such a big jump."

"There is no pressure to rush in getting it all done, " Charlotte speaks up, "The point of it is for you to have fun and to try new things. Hell, doesn't matter if it takes you years to get through them." She chuckles. 

Luke gets up from the booth and returns with a napkin and a pen. 

"The point is to simply live." Charlotte says. 

I thought for a second. I guess by making a list, it gives me a sense of preparation. That safety zone of being prepared, and anticipating how things will go. 

With a deep breath and a roll of my eyes, "Fine. Let's do it." I smile at both of them. 

I glance down at the napkin that Luke got and freeze, in the corner of it - there's a faint letter 'E' written down. 

"What's that?" I ask Luke. 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe someone was trying to write something, but their pen ran out." 

--

After changing into pyjamas, Luke and I meet in the living room of the apartment. 

"Oooh, what are we watching?" I ask, taking a seat on the couch. 

Luke is silent and doesn't respond to me. I look to him and find him with a puzzle look on his face, glancing down at my leg. 

"What?" 

"Girl, what happened to your knee?" He nears me. 

I let out a chuckle, "What are you on abou-"

I don't continue my sentence as I look down to see what he is talking about. I am wearing short pyjama bottoms, and from such a rush to change into them - I didn't even realise what was on my knee. I look down at both of them, there is nothing on my left knee. But as I switch my focus on my other one, there is definitely something there. 

There, on my right knee, is a single small soft-pink coloured band-aid. His voice echoes in my mind, as I remember his words. 

"We are going to need a band-aid for your knee." 

How? 

I carefully peel the band-aid slightly, and right there is the aftermath of a slightly scraped knee. A scraped knee that did not happen in this world. It happened in the dream world. Then why is it on my body here?

"I, uh, I was reaching something from the top shelf of my parents' garage and stupidly fell over." I muster up the best excuse I can find. Like I said, I never plan to tell my friends of my dreams yet - let alone the fact that an injury from the dream world has now manifested here. 

I look back up at Luke, and he shakes his head, "Yikes. Be careful."

After watching an episode of 'The Vampire Diaries', Luke and I say our goodnight and head to our own rooms. But I seem to not fall asleep. I am currently staring up at my ceiling, trying desperately to figure out the situation. From my memory, I never tripped over anything the past few days - I am a hundred percent sure of it. So, there is no way that this injury for this injury to exist. But I did fall off the motorcycle in my dream, but-

I need to shut up my mind. This is going to give me a headache. 

The quietness of the night eventually envelopes me, and I slip into the state of peacefulness - into a slumber. Well, not for long. That quietness is interrupted by a sound of a gun firing. I am sure it is a gun, and its sound makes me jump as I open my eyes. 

My gaze readjusts to my surroundings. There is nothing much. There is an absence of landscape, only the presence of sandy grounds and a long stretched-out road. A desert. There is a single tree in the middle of it all, with a familiar figure leaning against it - a silver gun in his hand pointed upwards, a slight smoke still seen in the air as the aftermath and he blows. 

He turns around and meets my gaze, "Sorry to shock you, doll." He grins, and swiftly flicks the gun between his fingers and shoves it in the back pocket of his jeans. 

"Well, you always knew how to make an entrance." I smile at him, shaking my head. 

I decide there is no point in asking Elvis more questions because it gets us nowhere, and actually leaves me with more questions. There is one thing I can confirm now though; this is the third time he has appeared in my dreams. Consecutive times. 

He approaches me and is now standing right in front of me, "And you always know how to find me, hi again." He smiles, biting onto his bottom lip and I cannot help but look into his eyes. 

"Hello."

Elvis takes something out of his front pocket and its familiarity makes my eyes widen. 

"So, I see you've made a list?" He questions, holding up a napkin. 

On the napkin is the list of that Luke, I and Charlotte made earlier. The list of things I want to try. It is the same napkin that we wrote on, the exact same. And it even has the faint writing of the letter 'E' on the corner of it. 

next

Yours Truly - Chapter 7: Bird's Eye View

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 1.5k

・❥・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. heights.

|chapter index |prev | chapter 8

--

NOVA 

"Think about it like you are on a plane, just a little different." He spoke, as his eyes stayed on me. 

My back was firmly pressed against the wall of the space that we were enclosed in, as I sat with my knees bent, hugging them to my chest. There's a hush silence to it all, apart from the sound of the chirping of the birds and the flowing of the rivers - there was no overpowering noise that elicited a sign of danger. This is what I try to focus on, to remind myself - but of course, uncertainty has never been a best friend of mine. 

I shook my head at him and let out a nervous laugh, "Okay, sure. Apart from the fact that a plane has a pilot, therefore passengers know where they will land. Plus, the windows are mega tiny on a plane so you-" 

I close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths. Closing my eyes helps me to momentarily re-think the whole situation, to almost convince myself that the uncertainty it as a minimum. Of course I did tell Elvis that I was ready to just go for it, and try something from my list. To try and see what happens with me being a little less frightened with being spontaneous. With experiencing new things. But that does not mean I can just switch of this instinct of mine to control the narrative in my mind. 

"You can open your eyes, honey." Elvis says.

"Not yet, " I shake my head, "But what were you saying about a plane being just like this?" 

"Okay." Elvis interrupts me, "A hot air balloon looks different and travels differently. But there's something else."

Yes, I decided to try to go on a hot air balloon for the first time. Not the first thing on my list, but I thought by not going in order - it'll warm up my spontaneous spirit. I hope. 

I sighed, mustering a small smile at him, "And what is that?"

"Nova, how many plane rides have you been on?" He questions, I can hear the amusement in his voice. 

"A few, why?" I ask, trying to figure out where he is going with this question.

He nods at my response, and I hear him sit himself down beside me. I open my eyes briefly, and see that he has one  knee bent, while his other leg rests on the floor of the basket. I return back to closing my eyes.  I've found myself in a few instances where the proximity between us are almost nonexistent, but his effect never wavers. It's this overwhelming energy that seems to encapsulate whoever is in his presence. He is undeniably attractive, yes there is the physicality of him, but that charm of his - so effortless, but comforting. A mix of it all leaves me having to release a few breaths, as my mind momentarily forgets the newness of the situation before me. 

 He speaks after a few seconds  "You've been on some plane rides and it's no hot air balloon. Now you are here, with me. " 

I chuckle, "It appears so. What are you trying to get at, Elvis?" 

"Open your eyes." 

"Not yet." 

"Then I can't answer your question." 

I gasped dramatically, "You wouldn't dare!" 

Elvis lets out a laugh, and its so melodic and almost contagious - I feel my lips pulling into a smile, uncontrollably. 

"Come on, honey, open your eyes." He tries again, but this time I feel his hand intertwine with mine - stopping the nervous fiddling. His hold of my hand is warm, and this warmness makes a rapid shot of climbing into my heart. I breathe in and out - and I have this feeling that the hot air balloon is not the only reason for it. 

I slowly open my eyes, and take in his close proximity to me. The warm orange of the sun reflects on his tanned skin, highlighting his cheekbones as that familiar grin of his spreads across his lips. 

"Hi there." 

I feel my cheeks warm. 

The hot air balloon does not sway, there is quite a stillness to it that I haven't noticed before. A sense of security, somewhat. 

"Another thing that those plane rides don't have, that this has. . . is me." He points to himself and continues on, "I'm here with you, Nova.  I won't let you get hurt." He says softly. 

"Thank you, Elvis." I say, in almost a whisper. A whisper because sitting down, right here, in a hot air balloon with such a small space and hearing his words so carefully said - it seemed as if I spoke even a little louder, it would break the serenity of the moment. 

"You can't see much of the world from sitting down here, " He speaks up, smirking and stands up with my hand still in his. 

I stand up along with him and feel myself giggle, Elvis raises his eyebrows at me, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." I shook my head, "It's just. . .how tall are you?" 

We move to gaze at the scenery before us. Luscious green landscapes fill my vision; smooth hills and mountains with snow covering the tips. The water flowing from the rivers and waterfalls are crystal clear, and if we were close enough - I could almost believe we could see our reflection through it. Some may say it's boring, that there is nothing else but water and land - but that's nature. 

Elvis props his elbows on the edge of the basket, with his left hand holding onto my right hand still. 

"Six foot." He shrugs, "I should've modelled, right?" He smirks, striking a dramatic expression on his face. 

I laugh, "That was not what I was implying! You are full of yourself!" I hit him on the shoulder. 

"Then what were you implying, doll?" 

"I just found it funny how you were sat down in this small space of a basket, when like 80% of you is all legs." I gesture at him, giggling to myself, "It's just so cute." 

"Cute? Never been called that before. My, oh my, Miss Sinclair - aren't you something." He muses ,grinning at me with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, as his blue eyes gaze at me amusedly. 

I furrow my eyebrows, "You know my last name?" 

He shrugs casually, "Well, you know mine." and abruptly glances back at the scenery passing before us. 

"It's nice. " I say, feeling the slight breeze against my face as I study the scenery. 

"Us humans sometimes forget that there is more to things than what we see. This is a bird's eye view right here. But we are viewing it right now, as humans. If you don't try new things, you are not letting yourself see what could be." Elvis says, sighing as he closes his eyes for a moment. 

I am surprised by the sudden depth of his thoughts spoken out loud. Elvis is carefree and loves to joke, he definitely has that energy to him. But one thing I think I am slowly learning is that, not just his actions are unpredictable- so are his words. One second is light conversation, and the next it's  like he is ushering you to take a glance inside the inner corners of his mind. He loves spontaneity, that promise of new adventure, of just going for it. Which frightens the hell out of my overly-analytical mind, but there's that tug in my brain - A web of curiosity. About him.

A web of curiosity that begs to be acknowledged. And I just might unravel it.  

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

Yours Truly - Chapter 8: The Great Gatsby

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.5k

・❥・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.

|chapter index| prev |chapter 9

--

NOVA 

". . .And then one fine morning- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." Professor Lloyd dramatically reads out, as he closes the book in his hands and places it on the mahogany desk beside him. He removes the thin, framed glasses and hangs them on the collar of his dark blue shirt. 

Professor Lloyd refocuses his attention back on us, his eyes scanning the lecture hall full of students. I sat quite far in the back, which is my normal chosen seating distance. It's not because I found Professor Lloyd intimidating, because he was far from that in comparison to the others that I have encountered in this course. I just find it much more relaxing sitting in the far back, it gives me a clear view of everything and I am able to focus more because I'm not near those who mess around and chatter too much. 

"As I have already discussed with you all beforehand, I will not read any chapters from this book in class. Except for this one that I have just read to you all." Professor Lloyd's states, his tone of voice enthusiastic, but low in the sense that he is about to let you in on a secret. I suppose that is why his class is always full every semester, his voice is void of monotone and you can easily tell that he enjoys the subject that he is teaching; despite it being over thirty years since he started his career. 

His eyes dart around the room, "Why?" He simply asks. 

We all exchanged confused looks on his words, which I suppose he has easily caught on as he holds his hand up to stop the whispers of confusion that floated the lecture hall. 

"Why did I read this one chapter? And most importantly, it is the last chapter." He clarifies his question.

Silence. 

I don't think anyone really knows the answer, despite his clarification of his question. It is really odd. At the beginning of the fall semester, I remember him telling us that on the first book assignment that we will have - he will not read any chapters in class, as he expects us to do that all in our own time. To throw even more confusion, he decided to read the very last chapter? 

My brain cannot grasp the answer, I guess that's how much of us feel on Monday mornings. 

Someone from the front row raises their hand, catching Professor's attention, "Yes, Mr Lopez?" 

"Is it because it is one less chapter for us to worry about?" He said jokingly, earning a chorus of chuckles around the lecture hall.

Professor Lloyd shakes his head at this and smiles, "Incorrect, Mr Lopez. You will all need to reread this chapter, it is imperative for your grade in this assignment." 

"Any other guesses?" Professor Lloyd tries again, "No? Alright." 

Once he realises that there is no response, Professor Lloyd sighs and turns around to the blackboard behind him. He grabs a chalk from the side and begins to write something out on the  huge blackboard, the scraping of the chalk being the only sound that filled the lecture hall. He places it down, and turns around to face us. 

My eyes trace the words 'THE BEGINNING.' 

"The oldest rule for readers is to read a book in chronological order. From the first chapter to the final chapter. it is logical, yes?" Professor Lloyds pauses, earning a few nods from the class. 

He continues on, "However, some writers, such as F. Scott Fitzgerald - that may not be the case." 

Okay. . . what is he getting at? 

Professor Lloyd begins to pace back and forth slowly, "In the world of creative writing, it is whispered from one writer's ear to another that they must not give everything away. To be a storyteller is to deliver a message, but writers do not hand that message to readers on a silver platter. Readers have to work for it. Which is why they must read the book in order, and not jump to the final chapter. However, I argue that although Fitzgerald spreads his message gradually in The Great Gatsby. . . he does it very vaguely. " He stops pacing and pauses, and begins to walk backwards until he is right next to the words written on the blackboard. 

He leans against the blackboard, arms folded across his chest "A certain level of vagueness ends with readers potentially misunderstanding the meaning he is trying to convey. Therefore, Fitzgerald's only saving grace is the final chapter of the book, the chapter that will say everything as plain and as clear as possible." 

A hand from the middle shoots up, belonging from a girl with dark hair, "Yes?" Professor Lloyd nods. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor. But I think I'm a little lost on what you are trying to say. Do you mean to say that the main theme of the novel is really only told clearly at the end, and not throughout? Like all the themes are overcrowding what he is actually trying to say?" She questions, her voice quieter but gradually growing in volume as she went on with her question. 

Professor Lloyd kindly smiles and nods, "Precisely, Miss Fontaine. As you read The Great Gatsby, you must be able to filter through the overcrowding, as you describe. Another point is that Fitzgerald leaves a hint. The final line implies not only the cycle of attitude that affluent members of society display, but also to go back to beginning." He states, pointing to the written words of the blackboard. 

"I do not recommend Fitzgerald's technique of vaguely conveying his true message throughout, and only revealing it in the last chapter. If you write, you must reveal your message little by little. However, Fitzgerald cleverly made it work for the tale that he was trying to tell - the connection of the last and first chapter. " 

I purse my lips in wonder and confusion. I raise my hand up, Professor Lloyd's eyes focuses on mine as he nods for me to ask my question. 

"So, wealth and tragedy are not the main messages of the novel then?" I slowly ask, which receives a shake of a head from Professor Lloyd. 

"I'm afraid not, Miss Sinclair. And no, I will not tell you all what the main message is. You will all have to venture this journey on your own and write your assignments once you've reached the end of the book. " He explains, looking around once again. 

Oh, another thing about Professor Lloyd, his memory is insanely sharp. He remembers everyone's names in the class. Which is unbelievable, I didn't quite believe it as first to be honest. 

"Any other questions?" 

"Yes, Mr Noah." He nods at the guy sat right at the right side of the far back of the lecture hall. 

The guy scratches the back of his neck with his pencil, "Sorry if this is a stupid question, Professor. But. . . if Fitzgerald's true message is only in the last chapter and you've just read it out to us -  what is the point of us reading the entire novel?" He says in pure confusion. 

Professor Lloyd chuckles at this, "The first and last chapter hold that vital message. Everything in between may not hold to that degree of value, however, there's the wondrous element in storytelling where the reader begins to see the characters as a friend. Therefore, I want to test you all on not only your analysation of Fitzgerald's themes in The Great Gatsby, but to experience the emotional value of literature." 

He walks back to stand behind his desk and claps his hands, "That is all for today, class. I wish you good luck on your assignments, but before you leave I want you remember this; the premise of the novel is that Jay Gatsby has built his entire life around this longing desire to be reunited with Daisy Buchanan, the one love that he lost all those years ago. Keep that in mind." 

--

The cafeteria is bustling with excited students, as the line for the lunch grows longer and longer. I am smart enough to know the chaos of this, so I decided to make my own salad at home and brought this in with me for today. In the corner of my peripheral vision I can sense someone approaching the table, and soon enough Luke takes a seat across from me. 

His lunch tray plops down on the table, "Dude, I am telling you I thought I'd never make it out of there," He shakes his head, eyes indicating to the long line of people getting their lunches. 

I furrow my eyebrows and point to him with the fork that I'm holding, "Wait, I thought that you left class early?" 

He shakes his head and finishes swallowing his food before responding, "You and me both. But shit happens." He says, his gaze rapidly avoiding mine as he takes a bite out of his hamburger. 

"Luke," I urge, "What happened?" 

"Nothing. . ." He trails off, but eventually sighs in defeat when he sees that I'm not giving it up. 

"F.uck, okay, So I ran into Matt." He shuts his eyes, cringing at the memory.  

"Ah, shit."

"I was on my phone and wasn't looking where I was going, and bumped into him. Fucking fantastic." He explains, gesturing animately. 

"What happened after? Did you turn around or. . ." I trail off.

He nodded, "I bolted the other direction and he didn't follow me, thank you God. But it did mean I completely forgot why I decided to leave class early in the first place." Luke sighs, gesturing to his plate of food. 

"So you didn't go to the cafeteria?" 

"I ended up in the library, which I know is such a new setting for me. . .hmm." He says, floating easily back into his humorous self. A sign for me that he is ready to move the topic of conversation to something else. 

I cleared my throat, "I need your help." 

"As long as it's not advice on men or relationships, my track record is golden evidence that such topics are not my expertise." He takes another bite out of his hamburger and sips from his orange juice. 

I chuckle at this, "No. Of course not." 

"Ok, just checking. You can proceed."  He gestures dramatically to me. 

"Do you have any plans tonight?" I inquire, taking a sip out of my bottle of water. 

Luke pauses drinking and squints at me in curiosity, "Depends. . . will I be laughing my ass off at whatever you are planning or not?" 

I shrugged, "Maybe or maybe not." 

"I need more information. My brain is not braining today," Luke replies pointing to his head. 

I don't even think braining is a word?

I grab my bag from beside me and place it on the table, then I grab hold of the napkin with scribbled content on it. I zip the bag up, and return it beside me. I take the napkin and place it clearly on the table. 

I take a deep breath, "I want to tick something off." 

"Ah, yes, Nova's List. This is a work of art, right?" Luke excitedly takes the napkin and studies it, "Courtesy of your darling friend;  myself and Charlotte." He says in a formal, upper class British accent. 

Darling. His voice echoes suddenly in my head,  and I feel my chest tighten slightly.  I snap myself back to reality before I am zoned out too far. 

"What kind of accent was that?" I chuckle at him jokingly. 

Luke gasps dramatically, "You are insulting me before I provide my expertise? I request an immediate review of our friendship contract." 

"Oh, shut up, " I shake my head, laughing at his theatrical response. 

"What do you want to tick off?" Luke asks me, his eyes reading through the list we made. 

"Actually, don't answer that. Girl, close your eyes," He says, placing the napkin back down on the table. 

"Pick something randomly. This way you won't overthink it." Luke explains. 

I close my eyes and move my hand over the napkin, gulping nervously. A second later and I stop moving my hand. 

"Okay, Nova, open your eyes."

My mind reels back to being with Elvis on a hot air balloon. Come on, honey, open your eyes. Everything from that dream still feels so vivid. His voice and the words he let go, his laugh, the breeze of the wind, the warmth of the sunset - his hand in mine. 

I snap myself back to the present moment, and open my eyes slowly. I peer at which idea on the list my hand landed on, "Oh, here we go." I chuckle nervously. 

Luke claps his hands excitedly, "Let's do it!" 

I know that I have to do this. I have to. I need to keep the momentum going. After all, I've only really done one thing on my list. As I watch Luke call Charlotte on his phone, I can't help but think that I'll be a little late in my dreams tonight. 

That is, a particular someone will still be waiting for me when I shut my eyes to sleep. 

next chapter

Yours Truly - author's note: before we begin

Hi! Before you begin reading, I would just like to say a few words if you don't mind.

Hi! I'm Rose. 

First and foremost, I would like to say thank you for being drawn to my book, enough to give it a chance. I truly am grateful for it. I am sure that you would love to start the story, however if you do not mind, I will say a few words before we commence into the world of 'Yours truly.' 

I have been an avid reader for a long time, which cultivated my desire to start writing my own stories. However, all of my writings have been seen by myself and only myself - until now. 

The world of writing and reading is a vast space, which I am sure you are aware of. In this case, Fanfiction. I have read numerous fan fictions growing up, and I still do - drifting through one fandom to the next. I am relatively new to the Elvis Presley fandom, my interest started when I watched the brilliant movie Elvis (2022).  I will warn you now that this is Fanfiction - so it is the line between reality and fantasy. Read cautiously and carefully. 

next

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Warning: This story has occupied every corner of my mind for MONTHS, and it took a lot of courage to entertain the idea and plan it out, and now gift it to you. So I will not tolerate plagiarism, copyright infringement, stealing of intellectual property - reproducing this story on any platform in any way. It is a NO. I am sure that your hearts are pure and you will not do this, but if you do see my story on any other platform - please inform me and I will report it.  The only other platform this is posted on is my wattpad account : astralheart_

Disclaimer: As I have mentioned already; I am in no way, shape or form, portraying Elvis or any of the real people as who they actually were in real life. I do not know them personally. It is an Elvis fanfiction, please do not ignore the FICTION in that. I mentioned that I will be researching as I go along to sprinkle in some factual information, but this is not a biography. It is not cold, hard facts.

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This story was conceptualised through a series of songs I've listened to, and dreams I've had. I first outlined the plot and the type of characters, and then I decided for this to be an Elvis fanfiction. Which was not an easy decision.  In simple words: the story is the canvas, I am the painter, I just needed a muse to make this story happen. 

I tend to be drawn to the unexpected, complex and incomprehensible books. The type of book that will make a reader pause for a second and think, before continuing to the next sentence. Therefore, this story will deliver both a sense of familiarity of simplicities, and the element of trying to fit the puzzle pieces together, but not quite being certain of it all. 

In other words, I aim for those reading to be very immersed into the story - to be excited, to be thrilled, to be curious. This is why I am writing this. 

What can you anticipate? 

I do not want to spoil too much because I do love surprises, and I'm sure you do too. But just to briefly summarise - This story is something I hold very close to my heart. That being said, I want you to feel a plethora of emotions - good and bad, joy and despair, wonder and wishful thinking,   love and heartbreak.

All at once. 

--

Okay, okay. I'll stop talking now aha - I apologise for the long message. It was necessary though. 

There is a series of songs that I think sets the mood for this story, I will post the Playlist next. 

Then after that

the story begins. 

So, with this note from me to you - I thank you once again and I am most wondrous to 

Welcome you to the world of 

Yours truly . 

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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

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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