WIP: A Little Something That Has Made Its Way Into My Brain. A Specific Scene Of 1970s E Looking Out

WIP: A little something that has made it’s way into my brain. A specific scene of 1970s E looking out from a rooftop in Las Vegas, having quite a revealing conversation with someone. This is only a lil’ something, so may or may not be turned into a whole something.

warning: mentions of a scar.

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“Ask it.”

“I wasn’t-“

“I heard you.” My heartbeat- he meant. It would be foolish of me to ignore his request, after all it was very limpid that he sensed a question, before the words even stepped out of my lips.

I found my fingernails gripping the edge of the metal railing as I leaned against it, as if calling out for support. My eyes casted downwards on the vibrant city below us, “Your lower back. I, uhm…I saw a scar on your lower back. I was passing through to find my way to a restroom, your door was left a little ajar. “ I wasn’t looking at him, but I could practically feel his gaze burning into me, which is why I found myself breathing out a sigh - forming a halo shape into the wintery air.

“Elvis, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to Iook in, and I should’ve kept walking-“

A beat of silence. What could he be thinking?

“What did ya think of it?” He asked, voice controlled but there is a quietness to it.

I whirled around to face him, “I-I just feel terrible for looking into it when it was your privacy-“

His azure blue eyes were firm on me, “That’s not what I’m asking you.”

“What?” I managed to breathe out.

He steps closer, “You keep saying you don’t feel right and wanted to run off. I wanna know. . . why? Did it disgust you? Made you wanna hurl your guts out? Made you wanna remember it, so you could sell off your new discovery to the press-“

I was lost for a second, lost on why the city was suddenly blurry in my vision - my eyes were burning with tears.

“No.” I say, my voice firm. He’s at a pause, eyebrows knotted and that fire in his eyes that was once set ablazed - now showed blue like ripples in spring lake.

“No?” He questions, eyes wide.

“A scar isn’t something that was born from pleasant happenstance. It’s not something a lot of people show off to the world, and get applause from. It’s not like a performance on stage. It’s that darkness after the lights are off, behind the stage curtains. Evidence that you were hurt before and it’s forever there. To remember it. I ran not because I thought it was hideous of whatever incredulous thing you said. I ran because I wouldn’t want a stranger to see that part of me. . . the part behind the curtain.” I looked away, not waiting for his response.

Before there could be any response, a rush of footsteps and the quick opening of the door caught both of our attention. There stood Jerry Schilling, sweating and a rush of relief as his eyes meet ours, “Thank fuck. E, we’ve looked everywhere. The colonel wants to speak to you.”

Elvis simply nods and his friend walks off.

He looks at me, “You’re no stranger to me.” He says softly, as he walks away - leaving me with my thoughts and the bustling life of the city before me.

Taylor Swift, Fortnight (feat. Post Malone)

I’m bored, let’s play a game! 🤔

Send me a word and I will retrieve a sentence from my WIPs (work in progress) that contains the word.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

— H. Jackson Brown Jr., P.S. I Love You

“aut viam inveniam aut faciam.”

— i will either find a way, or i will make one;   

“What’s the difference?” I asked him. “Between the love of your life, and your soulmate?” “One is a choice, and one is not.”

— Tarryn Fisher, Mud Vein