Yours Truly - Chapter 14: Jump Then Fall.

・❥・pairing: Elvis x original female character

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

・❥・wc: 7427 words (grab some popcorn, this is a long chapter aha).

・❥・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: descriptions of fears of drowning.

❥・a/n: Finally on chapter 14! so, so much happens in this chapter. Thank you all for your patience. If you have not read this fic before, please refer to my masterlist as this is a multi-chaptered series. Thank you. happy reading :)

dividers by @cafekitsune

chapter index | prev | chapter 15

“Oh be my once in a lifetime. Lying on your chest, in my party dress.” Lana Del Rey, Love Song.

NOVA

The hammering of the downpour painted the apartment's windows with its presence for the past hour or so. Some might say that weather like this gives the perfect ambiance to study. But instead of pursuing academic tasks at the moment, my mind somehow can't find the willingness to do those. The side of my body leaned against the couch of our living room, as I observed the rain bleed through everything outside.

I've seen heavy rain a million times, but this is the only time that I am so transfixed by it. There is nothing particularly special about it, except that, my mind flashes images through like scenes of a movie; A Warm Cafe. heavy rain. the pull of my hand. laughing. his laugh. dark hair. my dress sticking to my skin. dancing.

"I'm me when I'm with you."

"Do you trust me?"

His words are so clear and always seem to take the forefront of my mind, his voice being a lingering tune. It's like if I opened the window right now, and let my hand feel the drop of the precipitation - I could almost feel like I am back in that moment. For some reason, a reason that I still don't know, it is the easiest thing in the world for me to lay my trust in the palm of his hand. I am certain that I am a practical person, and being logical has always been something that takes over me in everything.

But for the first time in so long, I'm not quite sure about that.

What makes it so easy for me to keep going with this, going with him, even with all the uncertainty? With no answers to the meaning behind it all?

"What are you thinking about, bestie?" Luke's voice pulled me out of my reverie. I just then realize that he is standing right beside me, placing a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

"Huh?"

"Or who?" He mused, elbowing me playfully, with a curious smirk on his lips.

well.

I shook my head, "Nothing."

He plops down beside me on the couch, "You have that thinking face on, and with that frown on your lips - it gives me heartbreak vibes."

I laughed at his response, "Luke, I'm not even seeing anyone."

"And? I'm not seeing Henry Cavill and he still broke my heart."

I playfully throw him the cushion, which he easily catches and dramatically responds, "It's the truth!"

"Whoever you were daydreaming about, heartbreaker or not, he had you in your own world there." He said in a sing-song voice.

I don't respond and throw him a simple smile.

I never realized that I was so deep in my thoughts that I failed to notice that Luke walked up to me. He was right in the fact that I was in my own world. But he was wrong about the heartbreaker part, because no, Elvis didn't break my heart. It's something else. It's this feeling I get whenever I am with him. It's thrilling, but so terrifying, but so fun at the same time. And I am certain that I have never felt that way before.

I just hope that when my mind finally stops spinning for answers, that feeling will remain. It has to.

But then again, I have never been one to cling to hope. Not that I am a pessimistic person, but if you didn't know all the angles of a situation, how could you ever put your all into hope? It's like unknowingly walking through active flames and arriving on the other side with imprints of ashes.

Hope is not immune to turning into hurt.

As much as my love for literature and the art of reading, I do love movies as well. Sometimes there is a particular nostalgia to them, especially those movies from the 90s and early 2000s. Luke and I try to have a movie night once a month. Back when we first became friends at the start of college, we would have movie nights every Saturday. But that was before we found out how unpredictable and laborious the schedule is as a college student, therefore it was hard to keep up with that. So, we decided to just have a movie night each month, whenever there is a free day. We normally take turns in picking which movie to watch, but it is Luke's turn this time.

Due to my momentary 'daydream' as Luke described it, it is only now that I fully become aware of the movie of his choice. His Netflix account is open and put on pause. I turned to him in sheer surprise, "Really? The Great Gatsby?"

He shrugged, "I wanna know what the hype is."

I gave him a look.

"Listen, everyone and their mother watched this, except me." He said dramatically as if it was competition.

I watched the movie a while ago. The cinematography is insane. But of course, now that I have to analyze the story through the literature piece, it's a whole different experience from watching. Luke doesn't fail in doing his usual commentary about the costumes, the acting, and his hatred for so and so's character. One thing about my best friend, he might not be a reader, but he will not hesitate to yell at a television screen when he has this passionate hatred for a particular character in a film or TV show.

He calmed down for a while and paused the film, "I mean, I know Gatsby be lying through his teeth. But the commitment is immaculate." He dramatically clapped.

"Definitely. I can't lie to save my life."

"No, bestie. I'm not on about that." He chuckled, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Oooh, you are Miss Daydreamer today, aren't you?" He said with a smirk.

I scoffed at him and laughed, "What? I'm simply asking a question."

He nodded at me, seemingly unconvinced.

"Hm, right. Well, whoever he is, he better not give me the ick."

"There is no one."

"You just said you can't lie to save your life, point proven."

"I am not lying."

Once he saw that I was no longer saying anything more, Luke sighed and simply said, "Yeah, right. "

I snapped my fingers, "But really, what did you mean about Gatsby's commitment?" If I didn't navigate it back to the topic at hand, there is no doubt that even Luke himself would forget what he was talking about in the first place.

"I was saying that about how he is with Daisy. Homeboy really hosted all those parties in case the girl he is in love with showed up all of a sudden. Even if Daisy never showed up that quickly, I think Homeboy still be throwing those parties until she does. And I can't even get a text back for fuck's sake." Luke said, sighing dramatically.

I can't help but chuckle at him, "It's fiction."

He shrugged, "Yeah, but what if there are some people out there that do keep waiting and waiting for the love they lost all those years ago?"

I squinted my eyes at him in surprise and amusement, as I playfully elbowed him on the side, "Aw, didn't know I'm friends with Cupid."

Luke scoffed, "You aren't. But you ever see him around, tell him he is long overdue to fix my shit of a love life."

I laughed, "Will do."

It's becoming easier and easier to know that I've slipped into the land of dreams. Before, I would find myself taking a second to make sure that I was in fact dreaming. But now, it feels all second nature to me now. I am definite in knowing that I have been whisked away into my dreams, and are no longer in the real world. So, the only question that I really ask is, "Where am I now?" which I didn't realize I said out loud, but the only indication that I blurted my question out loud is there is someone who answered.

"Are you lost, Ma'am?" A familiar voice. It seems like the only voice I expect and hope for, whenever I awake in these dreams.

I turned my head to the source and direction, and there he was. Elvis was standing on the tree branch, the very tree that I was standing under it seemed. He crouches down, both feet still on the branch, and my heart cannot help but leap out of my chest at the sight of the possibility of an imbalance occurring. But the man before me is the picture of anything but fear. His hair appears to be meticulously oiled back, and with that hint of youthful appearance in his face, and the same striking pair of blue eyes. It appears to be 1950s Elvis. His clothes seem to also confirm my guess; He wears a Cuban collar shirt, wide-legged pleated black trousers, a black jacket, and black loafers with striking pink-colored socks. He also appears to be holding a jacket over his shoulder, as he shoots me a grin.

I cannot help but chuckle, "What in the world are you doing up there?"

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, strands of his dark hair falling over his face.

"Oh," He shrugged, "Nothin' unusual, just searchin' for a damsel in distress."

"The way you trust that branch so much is putting me in distress."

He tilted his head in amusement, "You worry for me, honey?"

"Solid ground here. Stable. Safe. You should try it." I said, smiling at him.

It's a dream, which means technically he won't be hurt, but that still doesn't mean I'm not my usual worried self. I mean, if this is my dream, then I can control it. But dreams and control have never been two things that agreed with each other in my case. And not to forget, the raven-haired man before me's unpredictable tendencies, to say the least.

He sighed calmly, "I would. But I'm likin' the view from up here." He shoots me one of his infamous grins, his gaze fleeting through me from head to toe unabashedly. An action that made my face grow hot all of a sudden, as I averted my gaze from him quickly.

In my previous dream, we were walking under the night sky and I remember vividly that he told me he wanted to show me something. But that never happened because my body jolted me back awake. Back into reality.

"Didn't you say you were going to show me something?" I questioned him, hoping that it would throw him off from him noticing my reaction to his comment. Hoping that it distracts me from feeling that familiar warm sensation that sits in the depth of my chest. For if I don't distract myself, and I start to think about all the other times - all our previous encounters - I might be forced to turn my back on him, and only face him again once I can fix my flustered state. I am no stranger to his flirtatious nature, but I am a stranger to who I am when I am with him.

And I am not sure how to connect those puzzle pieces. Not right now, at least.

Elvis nodded, stood up from his crouched position, and jumped off from the tree branch - an action that happened in the blink of an eye, and made me shut my eyes in fright. He thankfully lands safely and stands right in front of me.

"Yeah. Before you disappeared." He said teasingly.

I shrugged, my smile dissipating into a picture of guilt, "I can't control it, you know?"

I hope he knows. When these dreams first started to happen, I was directly asking him all those questions about the reason behind it all. I still don't have all the answers. But I believe that he is real. Based on all of these small hints that happened, and how he answered that he said yes, even if he didn't verbally confirm it. When I woke up in Graceland and apologized to him for being late, he jokingly said he thought he got stood up. That was the closest exchange of words between us that touched on the topic of the control of my dreams, and how I wake up out of nowhere and there is no real sign right before it happens. But this is the first time I am telling him that I did wake up all of a sudden, and I think he knows. But I say this as a question, in case he doesn't. Even if I think he does.

Elvis nodded, "Course. Doesn't mean it hurts me less." He said, his voice so soft.

He bites his bottom lip and releases a deep breath. There is a breeze in the air, a deep contrast to the chilling winter air of the real world. The leaves of the trees sway to the effect of the wind, the blooming of the flowers that decorate the lush green grass, and the shine of the sunlight - all the elements that immediately make it known to me that it is Spring that greet me in this dream. The sunlight that shines from behind me is the perfect tool that magnifies the azure of his eyes. The glint of playfulness is not harbored within them, instead, it makes me see that there is a pool of tears that paint his eyes and look into mine. Elvis has seen me multiple times by now, all of these dreams, all these encounters - and yet, he studies my face now. As if it is the first and last time he ever will lay his eyes on me. His eyes moved from each inch of my face, like what people do when they try to memorize something.

It's an action that would otherwise make me feel uncomfortable if it were someone else, but instead, all I feel is shreds of pain that poke at my heart and a haze of confusion that clouds my mind. And with those both combined? I feel a sudden lump in my throat, it's that feeling that builds up when someone is about to break into tears. And I am at a loss of words on why that is. Why my body, my heart, and my mind are reacting this way?

"I'm sorry," I said, surprising myself by the break in my voice. the instability.

The rational part of my brain believes that Elvis is acting this way because of how abruptly I leave him in the world of dreams.

Elvis shook his head.

A loose strand of my hair blows in the spring wind, Elvis brings his hand up and tucks this behind my ear. All whilst never leaving his gaze from mine, "Nova. . . it's never not you." He said softly.

I looked at him quizzically, "Elvis. . . "

Elvis looked down and shook his head, and when he faced me again there was that bright smile on his face. As if the tense nature and hurt in his face, and how words a second ago didn't happen. He takes the jacket off his shoulder and drapes it over my shoulders, "C'mon." He naturally intertwined our fingers and tugged me along in a direction.

"Here we are."

I gasped in astonishment at the scene before me, "This is insane."

From the moment he pulled me along with him and the way we made our way through a forest, there was a rush of excitement and curiosity that filled me. The chirping of birds in high trees and canopies accompanied our journey, but that sound was added by something else and I could've never guessed that it would all lead to this. The source of the sound is the rush of water splashing against rocks. Bees buzzing, birds chirping, the splash of the water, and the rush of the wind rustling through the trees - all working to elevate the beautiful sight before us.

A waterfall.

An almost crystal-like paradise blue water spilled over the rocks and cascaded effortlessly into the gleaming pool. The water that left the ledge was not producing harsh, strong sounds. It was a rush, but a more gentle affair, which explains the white lines at the edges of it as it met the serenity of the pool at the bottom. The amber glow of the sunset peeks through the branches of a singular tree that hung over the water illuminating a radiating glow to the pool. The height of the waterfall itself was not extremely daunting, but it appeared steep and tall enough to create such a picturesque image.

I turned to Elvis, who through my awestruck reaction, I didn't even realize was now in only a pair of swimming shorts. His bare upper body was a beautiful shade of tan, his stomach was slim and there was an undeniable air of confidence in the way he stood there beside me. Half-naked he was, - shit, half-naked.

"Am I interruptin' you, honey?" His voice filled with amusement, as I snap my head back up to look at him. His hands are set on his hips, that familiar smirk on his lips, as he catches me checking him out.

Well, shit.

"I- well. .you-," I spluttered out pathetically, he raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

I sighed with my hands in my head in sheer embarrassment. Oh my God Nova, get it together. He isn't even naked. Well, only half-naked.

"How did you change into shorts so fast?" I managed to say, thanking myself that I was able to contain my composture, despite the growing warmth in my cheeks.

Elvis chuckled and tilted his head at me, "I'm glad that I impressed you, Miss Sinclair."

I cannot help but feel the corners of my lips twitch up into a small smile.

"Ocassionally." I teased him.

He advanced in front of me and stopped and my heart found this the sign to beat erratically against my chest. Elvis leaned forward to the right side of my face until I swear I could feel his breathing tickle against my ear, "Darlin', I can be very impressive. " He pulled back and studied my face for a second, a smirk prominent on his lips. He fully stepped back and walked past me. I regained myself, for the second time in the conversation, and turned myself around. I was a statue for a second there, releasing a breath that I didn't know I was holding. I move my hands subtly, trying my best to get rid of the sweaty feeling of my palms.

"W-Where are you going?"

Damn it, Nova. Did you have to stutter?

He squinted his hypnotic blue eyes at me that were filled with mischief, "To cool off." He chuckled.

The meaning behind his words unmistakenly indicated my flustered state.

He was walking backward, facing me while he neared the water. Elvis turned around and jumped into the water, making a splash in which I gasped. He appeared from the water not a second later with a grin on his lips, as he pushed his hair back with his one hand.

He looked at me expectantly, "C'mon, honey."

His invitation for me to join him in the water rendered my knees weak. Practically shaking. No matter how beautiful the entire atmosphere was and how ethereal the flow of the water seemed to be, I couldn't bring myself to step closer. My palms were welcomed with the familiar feeling of sweat, at such a speed that almost matched the the pulsing of my heart. A sound that I swear I can almost hear, matching the shallow breaths that escaped my lips. My lips felt very dry all of a sudden.

"No. I-I-I can't. " I stepped back.

He looked at me, his eyes a beautiful shade of blue. Full of empathy and gentleness.

"Yeah, you can. C'mon, I've gotcha." He encouraged me, his voice was soft with his hand stretched out to me.

"Elvis, n-no. I-I can't swim." I replied, feeling my breathing becoming more of a sport. An action that was natural now quickly becoming unnatural.

"Darlin', I know that. Let me teach you." He offered me a small smile, and for a second I felt a sense of comfort. But that was quickly whisked away by the idea of the depth of the water and the sound of it splashing against each other, hitting the rocks nearby.

I shook my head, "W-What if the water takes m-me? H-How deep is it? W-What if I drown?"

Elvis interrupts me, "Nova, breathe. Breathe." He repeated.

He instructed me, starting with closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing. I did this a few times until the only sounds that filled my ears were the soft swaying of the trees and the chirping of the birds. The sound of the water was barely present anymore. And so, I continued to do this until I could feel my heartbeat steady. Elvis' voice guided me.

I regained the normal pattern of my breathing.

"Okay, now what?" I asked, with my eyes still closed.

Silence.

"Elvis?" I repeated.

No response.

Just how fast dread seeps into one's chest in moments.

I opened my eyes and everything was exactly how it was. Except that, the water before me did not house the familiar raven-haired man.

"Elvis!" I yelled, my head snapping in each direction.

Now, I am the most logical and risk-free person if one were to ask the people closest to me. I do not make any decisions, whether it be heavy ones or light ones, impulsively and in a 'spur of the moment.' Never.

But such things as those require thinking. One thing that I can say for sure is that I do it all the time.

Except this time I wasn't. I was being led by something else other than my brain.

And so, I feel an energy-like force almost pulling me to glance at the water again.

"Elvis!" I called out again.

No response.

Before my mind could register my actions, I slipped off the dress that I was wearing and found myself near the body of water - and I jumped.

Shit.

Oh god, I can't breathe.

I tried to pull myself from the power of the water but felt my legs sinking down as well as the rest of my body. My eyes kept snapping shut due to the pressure and how I uncontrollably swallowed amounts of water as I tried to breathe.

But I am sinking.

and sinking.

and-

"I've gotcha." That familiar voice rings in my ear, as I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and a body against my back. I turned my head to see him with that smirk on his lips, as I felt that I was no longer sinking.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him once I relaxed, "You!" I turned around to hit his chest in anger.

He groaned at the contact, "Ouch! Calm down, Nova."

I scoffed, "Oh, I am not calming down Presley! Where the hell did you go? I thought you were with me and- and you just disappeared? I thought you were gone! I-"

I didn't realize it, but drops of tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

Elvis interrupts me by pulling me closer with his arms tighter around me, and his forehead against mine. Gone was the mischievous smirk and instead, he breathed slowly, "I'm right here, baby. I'm here. I can never leave ya." He whispered, eyes looking into mine. He then grabbed hold of my hands that were against his chest and positioned them so that they were wrapped around his neck.

"You better not," I muttered, which Elvis heard perfectly judging by the smile that crossed his lips.

I glanced down and like a shot of fear upon the realization of the depth of the water and the probability of me sinking again, as I only have my arms around Elvis.

"Wrap your legs around me," Elvis instructed, quickly noticing the fear that struck my face.

With no hesitation, I wrapped my legs around his waist. I must be a shade of crimson now, judging by the warmth I felt that flooded my cheeks. But who can blame me? The sheer proximity of our bodies - I have never been in a situation like this before. I only had my underwear and bra on, and Elvis was only in his shorts. And not to mention, I am in a body of water - something which I swore myself I would never do due to my intense fear of drowning. There it goes again - the beating of my heart, as I feel blood rushing from my veins to the very tip of my fingers that clung onto him. The pulse acted like a catalyst for hot waves of that beating against my chest.

I looked at Elvis again, but his azure eyes were already on me. He was biting his bottom lip, as he groaned in what appeared to be pain.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I'm too heavy-" I started to profusely apologize.

"No, darlin.' No." He said, his voice strained.

"But-"

I started to detach myself from him slowly and move my body, feeling embarrassed about the way I practically clung onto him and put all my weight on him.

"Nova, stop movin.'" He said, not in a harsh manner. But in a tone that was strained and I swore I heard him mutter under his breath, "Lord, help me."

"What is it? You look hurt, Elvis." I said, trying to find more of an explanation for his pained expression that adored his features. Sweat trickled down his forehead.

He shook his head, "Keep close to me, I'm not hurt."

"You swear?" I questioned, still unsure of his words.

He nodded, "Yeah, yeah I swear."

I secured myself around him again, believing his words.

I feel something hard against my thigh, I look down quizzically and gasped at the sight of a bulge from his shorts poking my thigh. I avert my gaze. I feel that sudden warmth in my cheeks and seems to travel to my neck as well.

Elvis must've seen my reaction, "Aw, hell. I'm sorry, darlin.' I-" He sighed deeply, his head facing the sky above.

To not further the obvious awkwardness that was surely rising between us, I pretended to clear my throat and said, "Were you talking about teaching me how to swim?"

His chest seemed to relax as he breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, "Uh, yes, yeah okay."

Swimming was a skill that my parents were not fond of me learning. Their protectiveness over my safety wins priority over learning a life skill. And so, I grew up with the fear of water as a result.

After that awkward moment between Elvis and me, slowly but surely he did exactly what he promised. He taught me how to swim. Well, almost did. My fear of drowning and losing control would creep up on me every now and again, which would make me stop and cling to him or the rocks nearby. But even with that, his patience never wavered. Nor did he make me feel embarrassed. No, I never felt any of those emotions. Only comfort and dare I say, some excitement when I feel like I am getting the hang of it. By the end of our swimming session, I was no expert in swimming, but I at least had less fear of the water and trusted myself more in gaining control of how I moved against the water.

Not to mention, I became accustomed to the touch of his skin against mine and the closeness that was unavoidable in the situation. It was like the rapid changing of seasons - hot and cold. But in the end, no matter what, all I felt was familiarity. To the point that no contact of my skin against his was more unnatural than natural.

Soon, the greeting of the amber glow of sunset alerted our tired bodies. Therefore, we made our way out of the body of water and back onto dry land. We dried ourselves with a towel that was nearby, one that I didn't question, for this was all a dream. And I learned now that questioning things in this world leads me to nowhere. I pulled my dress back on and Elvis put his clothes back on. However, albeit the warmer season in this dream compared to the real world, there was a chill in the air - the sign of the day nearly coming to a close.

Elvis must've noticed my shivering state as I ran my hands up and down my crossed arms, he slipped his jacket off and draped it over my shoulders.

I protested quickly, "What about you?"

He shrugged with that lopsided grin of his, "I'm fine, darlin'."

"Elvis-"

"Yes, Miss Sinclair?" He tilts his head at me and that's when I knew that there was no use in arguing with him.

So I sighed and playfully rolled my eyes, "Alright, you win."

He chuckled and grasped my hand into his, the action more effortless than when I said my own name. We walked quickly beside each other in silence, in which I broke, " Thank you."

Elvis turned to me, "For what, darlin?" He asked, his thumb gently caressing my hand.

"Well, teaching me how to swim even if I'm still not completely there yet. But thank you anyway for being so patient with me."

"Of course, " He nodded, "You gotta believe in yourself more, honey." He said softly.

I sighed, "I know, but it's easier said than done." I cannot help but shrug.

Elvis stopped walking and faced me, "The things that last, the most important things - they take time. Always do." He said to me, but somehow it felt as if the words were scattered notes across a broken piano - one that still plays beautifully, but long forgotten. One that remembers the melody of a beautiful thing. His tone of voice resembled one of a person who was recalling a memory of some kind before it faded away. The reminiscent kind. One that is mixed with the taste of nostalgia.

"Very wise, who said that?" I mused. It was becoming harder and harder to find a way to ease the tension when he grew serious all of a sudden. It is not a tension that is negative by any means, but there is something in my chest. This feeling. And before I could even think more about it, I had to lean into a half-humored response. A light response, but sincerity and honesty all the same.

Elvis winked.

Before I could question more into his confusing response, he tugged my hand intertwined in his closer as he led me through more of the forest. Shortly after that, I find that we are somehow on the other side of the waterfall but perched on a hill. So, there was a distance from the water, but not too far. Just the right enough distance to take in the picturesque view. A red and white patterned picnic blanket was draped over the grass, and atop it was a picnic basket and a bouquet of flowers.

Elvis tugged me along as we sat down on the picnic blanket.

"You did all this?" I asked, more of a rhetorical question than most.

"You like it?"

"This is incredible." I marveled.

Elvis smiled, letting go of my hands and taking hold of the bouquet - presenting them to me.

"For you, Nova."

I gladly accept the bouquet and admire the flowers. These flowers were rare, only appearing in spring and summer. The sky blue color of the petals that surrounded the mild yellow centre - a flower that I had seen all my life, and I breathed it. It was a flower that always grew so abundantly all around my parents' house growing up.

Which is why it so easily became my favorite flower in the entire world.

"Elvis, thank you. These are beautiful."

"it's a. . . Forget Me Not."

"-Forget Me Not."

We ended up saying it simultaneously, and I burst out laughing at the way we said it in sync. Elvis is frozen, his eyes are wide as his mouth opens in an 'o' shape. He starts to say something, but mumbles and stopped himself.

"Obviously, there is that clear meaning behind its name. But also for some reason, I don't why, but they always grew in the garden of my childhood house. My parents' home. My parents never raised them. I guess it came with the location of the property. That's how I happened to know what they are called. They then ended up being my favorite flower, I don't know if it was because it was the only flower that I saw constantly and thought I was a smart kid. But-"

I stopped my ramblings, as I noticed that Elvis has grown silent. His eyes are no longer looking into mine but instead appear to be looking far away out into the distance. But his removal from me wasn't what gravitated my interest, it was what was contained in his azure eyes. A build of tears seemed to be rising higher and higher in his eyes. I've only ever seen him in a state of tears like this once before, a while ago, when I asked him questions with one-word answers.

The image makes me reach my hand out to him as I wrap it around his, "Elvis?" I said, my voice quiet, "Are you okay?"

He doesn't respond. Instead, he shuts his eyes rapidly and those tears escape down his face. He keeps his eyes closed, appearing to be squeezing his eyelids shut.

Oh god. What did I say?

"Did I say something?"

My questions seemed to shake him out of his trance, and he opened his eyes, and the very moment he did - I felt my heart collapse. Like the earth-shattering quake that makes even the strongest buildings surrender to the ground. His eyes are swollen, evident by the droplets of tears that still cascade down his cheeks. He shook his head and with shaky hands, he brought his hands up to cup my cheeks, "Nova."

"Tell me, did I say something wrong? I'm sor-"

"No, no, no." He said quickly, voice cracking.

In that moment, there is something within me that reigns over the attitude of thinking over my decisions and choices.

The space and distance between us suddenly felt wrong.

I reached my hands out to push his hair out of his face and wipe the tears off his cheeks. I leave my hands resting on his shoulders, as I tuck my knees beneath me and feel myself pulling him close to me - enveloping him into a hug. The action caused the raven-haired man before me to erupt into sobs, his arms gripped around me grow tighter. I find myself running my hand through his hair in a soothing manner. Now is not the time for questions, sometimes in life, we have no choice but to speak and let words be spoken. But this time? Elvis does not need me pestering him with questions.

"Shh, it's alright."

A while goes by, but I do not pull back until Elvis does.

And when he does, I try to brush off that feeling of emptiness that rushes into my system - into the very corners of that organ that sits inside my chest, all too quickly.

It took a while before the atmosphere between us goes back to lighteharted, and tear-free. Whatever it was that was on Elvis' mind that caused him to zone out like that - I hope he never delves into that again. It breaks me. He never tells me what it was, and I never ask. Instead, he apologises profusely and presents the food that was in the picnic blanket. We have the food and soon flow into happier topics of conversation.

"No way, really?" I asked as Elvis retells a story of how he first started to learn guitar. All of my knowledge of Elvis was from the Elvis movie, and nothing further than that.

Elvis nodded, "Yeah. I think I was eleven at the time and I wanted a bicycle, but my mama didn't want it."

"Why?"I asked, taking a sip out of the glass of wine.

"Couldn't afford it," Elvis shrugged and continued, "But Mama also believed that a bicycle would end up hurtin' me. She feared for my safety all the time. "

"So, she instead opted for buying you a guitar instead? I guess, it makes sense. How protective your mother was. " This I knew of. How Elvis had a twin brother, but was lost at childbirth. A reasonable experience for the constant fear and protectiveness his mother had over his safety.

Elvis chuckled, running his hand through his hair, "Yeah, I didn't know what I was doin'. Knew nothin' about playin' the instrument. Only learned from my Uncle Johnny and the pastor, Frank Smith from the church we would go to." He explained further.

"That's why I never understood when people called me gifted. I was far from it, honey." He shook his head in embarrassment.

"I disagree with you. Talent doesn't always mean waking up and being a prodigy at something, sometimes it takes learning on your own and then combining that with practice. I don't think anything is effortless. So, whatever you said, Elvis - I fully believe you were a talented one. A once in a lifetime." I said, not realizing that I was using my hands to speak.

Elvis smiled at this, his cheeks a shade of crimson as he looked down whilst scratching his neck.

"Well, uh, thank you darlin."

The duality of him continues to amaze me.

"Sorry, I rambled away like that. Saying so much in one sentence - I hope it wasn't annoying." I chuckled, as I admitted this to him.

"I love listening to you speak." He said, with no hesitation.

I feel myself blush at his gaze and turn to look at the scenery, that's when I realize that the landscape has been engulfed by the dark blue color of the night sky. A thousand stars dotted around it, looking down on us.

I turned to face him again, "Oh gosh, I never even realized it was already dark. "

We must've been talking for hours and hours, getting lost in conversation and not realizing it was the sky's turn to rest.

Elvis frowned, "Oh, do you want to go?"

I shook my head, "No, not yet."

He sighed in what appeared to be a relief, "Good. I'm not ready yet."

I tilted my head, "And why is that, Presley?"

His hand reaches out behind him, in which he extracts a guitar.

"Since when was that behind you?" I laughed.

Elvis simply winked, "I told ya, Miss Sinclair. I can be very impressive."

I cannot help but smile, "Uh-huh."

His fingers strummed a few chords, "Any special requests?"

I thought for a moment, I don't know his discography that well.

"Any song. Whatever comes to mind."

He nodded and started to strum the strings of the guitar, and when he began to sing - I swear I no longer felt the coldness of the evening air around me. Instead, there is the warmth that fills his voice and surrounds me. The first verse of the song is gentle and evokes the very definition of a peaceful night. But not one that makes one fall asleep, it makes you keep listening and hanging onto every word. I do end up closing my eyes very briefly, but open them again and when I do - he is already looking into mine with a smile on his lips.

"Love me tender,

love me true,

all my dreams fulfilled

for my darlin' I love you

and I always will."

Elvis' voice was flying through the breeze of the evening air like a gentle companion walking through the vacant streets of a quaint town. One thing that the movie portrayed was how powerful of a performer Elvis was. Especially the era of the 70s. The extravagant jumpsuits, the international hotel ballroom. The way he moved on the stage. But they rarely captured how, even without all of that, there was the tenderness and sweetness to his voice that can mesmerize anyone just the same.

"Love me tender,

love me dear,

Tell me you are mine,

I'll be yours through all the years,

Till the end of time." He finished singing and holds onto that last line - almost speaks it, instead of singing it.

And just as he stopped strumming the guitar, thoughts evade my mind. Yes, I feared the water earlier because what else does one do when they don't know how to swim? I didn't know the depth of the water, and it can be unpredictable at times. No matter how serene the atmosphere. I know all can be solved if I had the skill of knowing how to swim. But I didn't.

But the one catalyst that drove that swimming session to even happen - well, it was him. Through my actions that did not align with my rational thinking, I went straight into the water to look for him. To find him. To see him safe. To make sure. If I didn't do any of that, I doubt I would be in the water at all.

I simply - jumped.

It was only now, at this moment with him across from me as he finished singing a song so sweet and pure - that I realized it was never really about jumping into the water.

Whether I dared to say it out loud or not, I know it is true. A feeling that triumphs over my anxieties and fear, which I proved to myself by jumping into that water - I care about him.

Elvis, I care about you. I say this in my mind. Words unspoken.

I clapped, "That was amazing Elvis."

He smiled shyly, "Thank you, honey." He said, placing the guitar back down on the picnic blanket. He hesitates, about to say something, and scratches the back of his neck as he mumbles something under his breath.

His hands delicately get hold of a loose strand of hair falling over my face, and gently tucked this behind my ear. The action tickles me and I end up giggling a little, "Oh gosh, that tickles."

Elvis grinned and leaned in again. "Hmm?"

"Yes, it does. I am ticklish, okay?" I chuckle, shaking my head.

Oh gosh, wrong words Nova. Unfortunately, he caught on to my words very quickly. Elvis started to tickle me on my sides, and I couldn't help but gasp with my eyes going wide. I am lying down on the picnic blanket now, falling over from the actions. My hands frantically attempt to push him off me, but with that infamous smirk on his lips - he doesn't hold back.

"Elvis! oh my god, stop!" I said, in between gasps and laughter.

"Nope."

Okay, two can play a game, Presley.

I tickled him back, and he gasped with a picture of momentarily surprise. He stumbled back, now being the one lying down whilst I have the upper hand. Unfortunately, Elvis does not appear to be as ticklish as I am. He is quick to grab hold of both of my hands. Our laughter stops, once we both realize the position that we are in. I am lying on top of him, with both of my hands engulfed in his hand and his right hand wrapped around my waist. Our faces were inches apart from each other, that I could feel his breathing against my cheek.

"The power you hold over me, Nova." He said softly, with a wide smile.

His words register through my mind like a faint wave, for I couldn't help but admire him. His tanned skin, those piercing eyes of his. His lips looked so soft. A strand of his perfectly groomed hair overshadowed part of his face.

"You're beautiful," I said, unable to stop myself.

Elvis grinned and shook his head, "Nah, you should see the view from 'ere. That's the breathtaking one."

I blushed but shook my head still.

"Oh, here you go with your flirting again," I replied, chuckling.

"Always with you."

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