Yours Truly - Chapter 9: So, This Is Graceland?

Yours Truly - Chapter 9: So, this is Graceland?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.8k

・❥・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. a kiss perhaps?, vague elvis (as always), OC is confused.

chapter index | prev | chapter 10

--

NOVA

I followed closely behind Luke and Charlotte, as we all held our phones with the flashlight mode on. Charlotte stops and flicks on a switch that is to her left, the room before us illuminates with light. We all turned the flashlight off on our phones. 

The room could be larger, however its purpose shrinks the size of it to a much smaller size. A tower of boxes were stacked one of the other in the corner of the room, and different sports equipment scattered to the side. A hundred or so numbers of books lying on old, wooden shelves - the dust collecting is quite prominent. Posters advertising football games and various student clubs adorned the brick walls. 

Luke throws his arms up dramatically, "Welcome!"

I reached the last step of the stairs, "I had no idea this place exists." 

Luke places the two large tote bags he is carrying down onto the cement floor and turns to me, "This is what happens when you avoid exams." 

I gasped, "You hide out here?! To avoi-"

He shoots me an incredulous look, "Me? No, I have other places."

Charlotte finishes placing the large canvas against a large board on the wall and turns to Luke, "But you just said-"

"Nah, my cousin Charlie was the original founder of this place. " Luke grins proudly.

I shake my head, chuckling and share a look with Charlotte. 

"So being a rebel is in your blood, then?" Charlotte said, shaking her head with a smile as she unloaded the balloons from the tote bags. 

Luke casually shrugs, as he places his goggles on. 

Charlotte claps her hand, "Ta-da!" She dramatically gestures to the large canvas that was pinned on the boards of the wall. It would just be a plain sight, of course, if it weren't for the various colored balloons attached to every inch of the canvas. 

She stands next to Luke and I, as we all place our goggles on. Luke steps forward and holds out the small container full of darts. He takes one and holds the container out to us, "Take one and throw. Ready?"

I take one and pause, "Wait, what if we get in trouble? Like what if-" 

"We won't." Luke interrupts. 

"You can't be sure of that. " My eyes flicker to the entrance that we just came from, "I really, really don't want to get into trouble-"

Charlotte turns her body to face me and places her hands on my shoulders, "I don't think anyone goes down here anymore. Besides, after we are done, we'll just. . .  I don't know. . . throw a sheet over it all." She grins, trying her best to reassure my nerves. 

"Bestie, we are not burning the place down, " Luke adds on, "We are literally just throwing a bunch of darts to paint-filled balloons. " He chuckles. 

"Nova, it's literally ten o'clock at night. No psychopath will be wandering down here." Charlotte gives me a look. 

I think for a moment. They both make very valid points. I need to do this. It could be worse, but we are literally just doing art in a different way, I guess? 

With a deep breath, I turn to both of them, "Okay. Let's do it." 

--

After drying my wet hair, I changed into a comfortable set of pyjamas and took a seat on my bed just processing what occurred an hour ago. I feel my face hurt from smiling and that bundle of anxiety on my chest has dissipated, replaced by relief and a sense of weird accomplishment? It's strange because I always considered academics to be the only time I'll ever feel like accomplishing something. But then there's this. I mean, dart painting is actually quite fun? 

The nerves I felt earlier wasn't really aimed at the activity itself, but the location and timing of it all. The sense of rebelliousness, a feeling and situation that I have never felt before. And strangely enough, I didn't get home until about an hour ago. The fun of it all made me lost track of time. 

A knock on my doors stops my trail of thoughts, I look up and see Luke with a grin on his face. 

"Knock-knock. I think the cops are outside our apartment? Something about paint-"

I stop him mid-sentence, "Shut up!" I laugh, shaking my head. 

Luke laughs and shrugs, "If one day when we are wrinkly and old and you can't stand my face - you will be reminiscing on times like these."

I shake my head at his dramatics, "Look at you sounding so wise, Lucas Fredrick Williams." 

His nose wrinkles as he frantically shakes his head, "Yuck. Don't say my full name I beg of you. "

I smirk, "What's wrong with it?"

"It makes me sound like I'm a founding father that graduated from an old boarding school and then became friends with someone like Mozart," Luke responds. 

I laugh out loud and clap my hands, "That is so specific. But Mozart is a genius though." 

"I'm serious!" He crossed his arms over his chest, "I don't know what the hell my parents were thinking, I might as well wear one of those wigs - hence the reference to Mozart."

We laugh out loud at our antics and I feel my eyes grow heavy, letting out a yawn. 

"I'll leave you to go sleep now, " 

"Good idea. Gosh, I'm so tired."  

"Same here. Goodnight, Nova. " Luke smiles and closes the door, but opens it not a second later. 

"What?"

"If the cops ever knock on the door asking for the girl who dart painted the university's basement, don't worry I'll cover for you." 

I chuckle at him, "Goodnight, Luke."

He finally shuts the door and yells, "Night, bestie! Have the sweetest dreams." 

I get under my covers and stare at the ceiling, patiently waiting for sleep to overtake me and already forming my apology to a certain someone that I will see soon. 

Not long after the blissful peace of the night overtakes my body, and I have fallen into a deep slumber. My consciousness is awoken by the faint sound of sizzling, it's sound rampantly filling my ears. My forehead knots in confusion, I try to make sense of it; my hands feel the two sides of where I am lying down. Soft material meet the palm of my hands, but it is not as soft as the covers of my bedding - so this couldn't be my bed, I conclude. 

I slowly opened my eyes and scan my surroundings. I quickly notice the pattern of stark white and blue accents that was consistent in the room. An archway is to my right, with two long mirrors lining up against the walls beside it. The archway gives me a glimpse of a grand piano and a chandelier. A white marble fireplace is directly a few feet opposite me, as I realised that I have woken up on a long, white couch. What seems to be around a 10-foot long coffee table is situated right in front of the white couch. A few other pieces are placed carefully in the end tables and shelves in the room, adding onto the classic look it seems to be displaying. 

I turn my body and slowly sit myself up, with my feet touching the soft carpet. 

Where am I? 

It seems to be that I'm in a living room, but where exactly? I push myself off the couch and start to walk to where I can hear the present sound of a voice singing. I instantly recognise the voice, and a smile finds its way to my lips. I have no idea where to go, trusting my feet to lead me where the voice is. Well, the owner of the voice. As I keep on walking, I pass by what looks like a foyer - I see the infamous staircase, with picture frames hanged up on the wall. 

Oh my god. Oh god. 

I know where I am now. It was so obvious, why didn't I recognise it immediately? I should've recognised it just from the interior design alone. I keep on walking and stop to what obviously seems to be the kitchen; it's layout and wooden furnishings giving it away. My attention is not focused on that though, I am more focused on the man who's back is facing me. He is wearing a mustard yellow shirt, with a short silk scarf wrapped around his neck and black slacks to complete the look. 

He seems to be humming a tune to himself. 

"Elvis?" 

He stops and turns around quickly, "Morning, doll." He says, and my breathe is caught in my throat for a moment as he flashes his infamous grin at me. 

"What. . . um. . . you," I fail to form a sentence and give up eventually. 

He chuckles amusedly at me, "Come here, I want you to try somethin.' " He beckons me to him with his hand, and I approach him where he is stood near the stove. 

He gestures to the plate in front of him, he takes a knife and cuts the sandwich in half; dividing it into two triangular pieces. 

"This is the best sandwich that you'll ever have. Go on, try it darl'. "

We both take a piece each. I take a bite of it and instantly feel my taste buds recognise the contents of the sandwich. I look to Elvis, his gaze is firm on mine, excitedly awaiting my reaction. 

I take another bite and swallow before speaking, "Peanut butter and banana? not bad."

Elvis nods in approval, "The best, right?" 

I chuckle at his enthusiasm, "I'll say that I've never had one before. But now-"

"Now, you'll thank me for changing your life forever." Elvis says dramatically, as he moves closer to me. His body is facing sideways, with his hip leaned against the kitchen counter as he rests his arms on the counter, his eye contact never faltering from mine. 

I suddenly feel a little warm. Oh god. 

I narrow my eyes at him, but I cannot help but smile. 

"Why, thank you Chef Presley." I play along with him. 

He laughs, "Anything for you, Miss Sinclair." 

"So, fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. Definitely new for me." 

"You see, I don't really cook. That's the only decent food I can do." He explains, shrugging casually but I can sense that hint of insecurity in his voice. 

"But you made this for me? Despite-"

"Like I said, anything for you Nova." His tone of voice filled with seriousness, filtering away from his normal playful manner of speaking. 

I hear a thump in my chest.

I have never been one to be good at holding eye contact, but my god, does he make it another level of challenging. There's an element of playfulness that you can see in his eyes, but also such intensity. My grandmother always told me that eyes are the windows to the soul, which is one of the most cliche phrases in the whole word, but I never really paid attention to that explanation until now. I feel that there is something in his eyes, more than what I just described - his gazing at me with a certain level of content and peace. A knowing gaze. 

 Those blue eyes of his piercing into mine,  as if to whisper 'I know you.'

His gaze flickers to my lips briefly, and I decide it's time to interrupt this because I feel my feet urging to step closer to him and I can't do that. 

I clear my throat and look away, in desperate hopes to grasp a new subject of conversation. I step away from him, and wander around the kitchen a little; creating distance from him. 

I look back at him, "So, this is Graceland. My first time here." I smile in wonder. 

"Right, many times. " He says, smiling only a little. 

I raised my eyebrow at him, "Huh?"

Elvis shakes his head and walks over to stand next to me, "Nothin.' I mean, with your list and all, I guess it's many first times." He avoids my gaze. 

I nod, "Oh, right. Well, actually. . . that's part of the reason why I was late." I say, looking back at him and he turns to me. 

"You've never been late," He nods, "I started to think that, man, I blew it with a girl I like." He whistles, looking down. 

I freeze at his words and feel my cheeks warm. 

he said what? Did I hear that right?  he must mean friends, right? Could I even label this thing we have as being friends? 

I choose to not read into what he said too much, and chuckle, "Such a charmer, just like Miss Esther said. But here I am."

He lifts his head back up, his gaze returning to me. He opens his mouth, but pauses - a noticeable brief hesitation. 

"There you are, like always, " He says, seemingly distant in his tone and shakes his head, "Not getting sick of me yet, are you?" He jokes, grinning at me. 

I quickly shake my head, "I never could. Mysterious stranger I met on a train." I reply, looking back on the first time he was in my dreams - the moving train and the relief in his eyes and his keen refusal in admitting that I was dreaming. 

"A good-looking, mysterious stranger. " He jokes. 

I roll my eyes at this and playfully hit his arm, "You really are something else." 

"Ouch, you wound me honey, " He dramatically clutches on his chest. 

I laugh, "Now, do you want to know why I was late or not?"

"Tell me on the way, doll," He muses. 

I furrow my eyebrows, "On the way to what?"

"To cross another one off your list."

His gaze briefly scans me from head to toe, and I subconsciously cross my arms over my chest.

"Elvis, just tell me." I plead, pouting my lips. 

"I'll tell ya after you get changed." He chuckles. 

I look down at what I'm wearing and blush in embarrassment to see that I am in fact, wearing the pyjamas that I went to bed in. 

I sigh in defeat, "Fine. But how will I know what to wear? and Where do I even get-"

He interrupts me mid-sentence, placing a finger over my lips, "Relax, darl.' I've got you something to wear, come with me, " He extends his hand out. 

I reach my hand out and he envelops it naturally. I expect him to turn around and start to lead me to where that piece of clothing is, but he doesn't yet. Instead, his thumb grazes over my hand and he bows his head down - placing a brief, delicate kiss on my hand. 

I gasp at this, his unpredictability is something I can never get used to. 

"You have smooth skin, honey." He says, his voice making me weak in my knees. 

"Uh. . . thanks." I awkwardly reply, completely thrown off by what he just did. 

thanks? really? that's what I have to say?

Elvis laughs out loud, his laugh contagious and beautifully melodic to the ears. He then lifts his head back up, and tugs me along with him.

"Elvis, not even one hint?" I try again. 

"Okay," He says, and I don't know why but the way he says that word - it's so satisfying and endearing. 

"The hint is this; you will be the prettiest one there, " He smirks. 

This seems to be the sixth or seventh time that Elvis is in my dreams. Consecutive nights. I remember each one so vividly, and the way he talks and looks at me - it still makes me wonder and question. Maybe not as overwhelming occupying my mind as before, but those question marks are still there. 

What and Why is this happening to me?

next chapter

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 - 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 - Prologue

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 619

・❥・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. No warnings really. A very short prologue.

・❥・ Notes: None.

@literally-just-elvis-fics

chapter index| chapter 1

-

All my life, I have put one foot forward after the next. I aways looked down to make sure that I don't misstep. I don't trip. I don't fall. Of course, I am not oblivious to the tendency of life to diverge us from the easy path of living. Boulders of struggles can be thrown at us at any given moment. We just have to hope that our minds, our souls and our hearts are strong enough to battle it. 

Even if that means coming out at the other end with a few scratches and bruises. 

But for the details in life that we can control, we can either ignore them and nod to the phrase of 'whatever happens, happens' or we can construct the steps to build a somewhat form of certainty. Of safety. My parents were keen to share their wisdom of playing it safe in life. Thus, I grew up having a firm grasp of realistic expectations - and to never, ever dwell on a far-fetched idea. Those would only promise a high probability of bad endings, and a silver of hope that can be crushed within seconds. 

If there is one thing that you must understand about me, it is this - reasoning and risks do not simultaneously exist within my veins. In fact, you can completely forget about risks - it does not occupy my mind at all. Remember that. 

My friends have attempted to sway this mindset of mine, their friendly nature of worrying that I may 'regret' it later on in life. There is nothing wrong with planning out stages in my life, it saves me from distress, worry and uncertainty. So, as much as I love their efforts to shift my mindset to be more 'at ease.' None of them have been successful. 

In fact, no one has been.

No one but him. 

There was something I failed to mention, and I suppose is not greatly mentioned by many; Curiosity can coincide itself with the thread of logic and the flames of spontaneity. When one is curious, they will run their fingers through the puzzles pieces. They will rise from their seat and quietly walk towards it, that tight grip of desperation clouding their brain and their racing heart. 

Until they look around and realise - they are in a completely different place. 

We humans are not abundantly knowledgeable on all things, that's why as time pulls us along - we pick up slices of knowledge. If I am aware of something, then I'm able to construct a sound judgement and ensure that I'll not walk through an uncertain tunnel. But on instances that I don't know something - I am guarded up - it delays my process of constructing my next step. 

It comes frighteningly close to a realm of uncertainty, of the unknown, of stumbling upon someone like him.

But unlike most things I've encountered in life so far, he was an antithesis of risks and reasoning. Not one was stronger than the other, both ran fiercely and rapidly through his entire being. 

If this was the case, why did I not seek the exit and just vanish?

Like I said before; when curiosity seeks you out, you will walk and you will never truly realise where you are until you look around and it seems - you are in the unknown. I cannot retrace my steps when I do not know where those steps are in the first place. 

His dichotomous nature was that curiosity. 

But as the human condition persists - curiosity is not a one-sided pull in some circumstances. 

Curiosity can be a reciprocation blazed between two beings.

So for once, my mind was quiet but my heart was alive.

chapter 1

Announcement!

So if you haven't noticed, I have posted all of the current chapters of my ongoing fic called "yours truly" this fic has already been posted on wattpad. But I thought to crosspost it on here. If you want to read 'yours truly' please go to my masterlist that is pinned.

ALSO! Important note if you see the subheading 'journal entry' alongside 'yours truly' that does not mean that's what the chapters are called!! they are simply a peek inside the OC's journal! All parts of the story are listed as chapters. So please do go to my masterlist to make it easier for you to navigate!

MASTERLIST

"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect." - Anais Nin.

Hello! I'm Rose. *waves* I have one on-going fic on wattpad, other than that all my writings are on here.

minors dni. ❗️🔞

symbols; ♠️ - smut, 🌸- fluff, 🍁- angst

Reposting, translating, and/or modifying in any way is not permitted. 📢

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S E R I E S

yours truly (🌸🍁) - elvis x female oc 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.

┈➤ chapter masterlist

kismet, kismet (🍁🌸♠️) - 1970s!elvis x asian female oc Angel Song grew up in a strict, Korean household. Molding her into the perfect 'good girl.' Through a strange case of serendipity, she finds herself face to face with Elvis Presley, the one person who just might threaten to shatter the glass of her good-girl act.

┈➤ chapter masterlist

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O N E - S H O T S

just in time (🌸🍁) - 70s!e x reader your job is to time travel to the past. but on a mission to protect a certain famous figure from the ‘70s, things take a turn. You are left to face the consequences of bringing the king of rock ‘n’ roll himself to the year 2023.

╰┈➤ read here

little black dress (♠️) - 70s!e x reader After being a devoted Elvis Presley fan for more than a decade, you and your best friend manage to miraculously score tickets for his Las Vegas show. You wear a classic little black dress, as your best friend decides it's the perfect opportunity to wear it for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, what you believed to be a 'plain' outfit choice seemed to have caught the eye of a certain someone.

╰┈➤ read here

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R E Q U E S T S

breathe in, breathe through, breathe out (🍁🌸) - 70s!e x reader

a year with you (🌸) - 70s!e x female reader