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Yours Truly - Chapter 3: Hold My Hand

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

・❥・Summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. High above the ground, fear of heights, unsteady infrastructure.

|chapter index |prev | chapter 4

--

NOVA

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

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

A hundred feet above ground. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah, that's a good rhyme." 

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

"What are yo-"

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

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

"You are unbelievable." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I take a deep breath, "Okay. Fine." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Almost there." 

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

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

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

"Am not, dear." 

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

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

"Yikes."

"Yep."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

next chapter

Hello? Is anyone there?

Hi all. I know it has been. . . a while since I've last uploaded any new writings. I apologize for that, I have no other excuse aside from life happening and being accompanied by agonizing writer's block. Do not worry, I am still very much in the ep fandom. Well, I come bearing good news. . . my writing brain is back again, and I am working on posting a few things very, very soon.

I have edited my masterlist. I made it simpler, might help in navigating through it.

Whilst you wait for my writings, please do give my on-going series 'Yours Truly' a chance. I initially posted it on Wattpad, and brought it over here - but it has received a lack of feedback. I know that we write for the love of it, but also feedback is the lifeblood of writers. It would mean the world if y'all would give it a chance. I've changed the summary of it, I feel it now sounds more straight to the point:

"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."

*cue mysterious music*

Love, Rose

Hello!

First of all, thank you for the amazing stories, especially yours truly! I'm a fan of your creations and looking forward to reading a new one🫶🏻

Is it okay to ask a short fic or imagine for Elvis & female reader?

Elvis and reader are in the relationship and they're planning to celebrate their 1 year anniversary soon. They both think what would be the best gifts for each other for the anniversary and they are asking their friends for help😚

There are so many gift ideas like flowers, matching jewellery, new clothes, photo albums(including photos they took when they went out for fair/amusement park idk cute ones), etc.. You can think of anything really!

Then Elvis and reader are giving gifts to each other on their anniversary day. They enjoy their gifts but most importantly they're happy being together🥺 How about this idea in a fluff, cute fics? I don't have a particular favourite era of Elvis(love all eras!) so you can choose, bestie I want your ideas💗

A Year With You.

pairing: 70s!e x female reader genre: fluff, established relationship. warnings: strong language, brief hint to sexual allusions, mentions of nightmares. An insanely happy lovey-dovey couple (aha). wc: 1.8k notes: Hi bestie! This is a long-awaited request, I apologise for that. I am too much of a perfectionist, which is not a great combination with the world of writer's block. Nonetheless, I really did want to write this. I hope that it has met your expectations!

 You consider yourself a pretty humble person, but you do pride yourself as a great gift-giver. It is always such a wondrous feeling to see the smile of glee from your friends and family, as you gift them exactly what they wanted. Even if they don’t straight up tell you what they want, or they don’t know what they want - you somehow always ace it when it comes to gift giving. Whether that be Christmas or birthdays. . . 

But now, well, you are actually stuck. The gift-giving this time round is for neither occasion, and the receiver is not family or friends. Specifically, your boyfriend. 

“My brain is empty. Nothing.” You admit, with your elbow propped up on the table of the booth as you rested your chin in your palm. 

As per usual, at least once a week, you find yourself seated across from one of your close friends - Vivian. At your usual spot for lunch, which is the local diner in your small town. You’d normally 

catch up about anything and everything going on, and the subject of conversation this time round? Seeking advice from something you normally found relatively easy. 

Vivian takes a sip from her milkshake, “Oh, I don’t think so.” 

Your furrow your eyebrows, “No, Viv, I’m serious - I can’t think of anything.” 

“Well, what about… I dunno, a really nice scarf? With his initials embroidered?” She suggests, in obvious hopes to ease your worry, but the uncertainty in her voice is far too clear. 

You give her a look. 

“What?” Vivian questions, “It is practical! and sentimental.” She shrugs, as a matter of fact. 

Bless her heart, she’s only trying to help. But you can’t find yourself agreeing with that gift idea. It is practical, but still. . . It feels so random. There has to be something else out there. 

“I can’t just give him a scarf,” You sighed as you took a bite out of the fry. 

“Why not?” 

“It feels a little random. I don’t know.” 

Vivian tilts her head and gestures dramatically at the window beside the booth, “Y/N, I hardly believe it’d be random.” As a matter of fact, the outside was blanketed by pristine white snow, as people passed by clutching tightly onto their winter attires. 

You nod, “Yes. But it doesn’t really scream ‘Happy Anniversary’!” You emphasized. 

“I want it to be practical, definitely. Yeah. But I want it to be something memorable too.” You explain, letting out a heavy sigh, as you subconsciously tap your fingers on the table. 

Vivian clicks her fingers with a smirk on her face, “Aha!” 

“What?” 

“I know just thee perfect gift.” She boasts. 

She leans over and gestures for you to lean in, as she cups her hand to whisper. 

“Winter wear is not the only thing that can keep him warm this season.” She says, a smirk prominent on her face. 

Your eyes go wide at her words, as a gasp leaves you. You feel your face grow rapidly warm, no doubt the obvious blush taking space on your cheeks. 

“Viv!” 

She calmly leaned back on her seat and shrugged casually, “What? It fits the criteria of practical and memorable.” Vivian can’t help but let out a laugh at your reaction. 

You find yourself laughing, as you shake your head, “You are terrible. Oh my goodness.” 

You manage to calm yourself down, “In all seriousness though, what in the world do I get a guy who has everything?” 

“I doubt he has everything, Y/N.” 

“Well, you know what I mean. Majority of everything ever.” 

Your lunch meet-up with Vivian comes to a close after two hours of chatting, mostly about your current predicament. Unfortunately, the lunch concluded with you still not knowing what to give him. But Vivian is quick to assure that ‘the world’s best gift giver’ won’t back down for this one. 

You hope she’s right. 

--------------------------------------

“Whatcha’ think of a pair of earrings?” Elvis asks, as he leans against the wall of the living room, the sound of the faint crackling of the fireplace in the background. 

“I’d say that’s a great gift, E.” Charlie replies, as he scribbles down notes beside the list of songs on the paper Elvis handed him. 

Elvis sighs and shakes his head, “I-well, I-I dunno man.” 

“Sorry to interrupt, E. We doing Johnny B. Goode?” Charlie asks, looking up at him and awaiting his answer. 

“Yeah, yeah. Add it in.” 

Charlie swiftly nods and goes back to reviewing the list, “Alright, go on.” He encourages, despite his eyes being trained on the sheet of paper on the carpeted floor in front of him. 

“I- well, like I said… I dunno ‘bout getting her jewelry.” 

“Does she not like it? Girls are usually all over ‘em.” Charlie shrugs, not quite understanding Elvis’ dilemma. 

Elvis crosses his arms over his chest, “She likes it.  But I-I-I feel that’s what I always get her. And ya know me, man, I hate boring shit.” He sighs, shaking his head. 

Charlie looks up at his friend, after hearing the distressed tone in his voice. It was a strange situation, for he didn’t think he could recall a time that Elvis hit a brick wall when it came to gift ideas for a girlfriend. He sure did not have trouble in his previous relationships. 

“Hmm… I know!” Charlie muses, in Elvis eagerly awaits his answer. 

“Try not to get her boring shit, then.” Charlie laughs. 

Elvis’ face relaxes and breathes a laugh, “Oh, you unhelpful fucker! Shit friend you are.” He said, throwing a cushion, which Charlie catches in time. Both are laughing. 

Charlie puts both his hands up in mock defense, “I say this with all honesty; I don’t think Y/N cares much ‘bout what you give her, E. She sees you and that girl is as happy as Goddamn sunshine and rainbows. All there is to it.” He said, voice serious as he explained to his friend that finding material perfection isn’t the core of the anniversary. That, really, you already radiate happiness whenever you are close to him. Whenever Elvis is with you. 

It’s in this that Elvis finds himself breaking out into a smile. A smile so huge that he has to adjust the sunglasses framing his face, as they slip down just a little bit. 

--------------------------------------

“Happy Anniversary, baby.” You say, kissing him on the cheek, as you hand the carefully wrapped present to him. 

You find yourself biting on your bottom lip, nervous as hell. He unravels it quite quickly and his silence certainly doesn’t put your nerves at bay. 

“A journal.” He says, a voice in wonder and surprise. His fingers dance across the leather-bound, particularly his embroidered initials. 

“Yeah. It’s um, I know it’s a little random. But, I, just see you so lost in your mind sometimes. Many times. And I, uh, I know you talk to me. But sometimes when you don’t feel like talking to anyone, not even me- just write down what you feel. It might help. It’s not healthy to have a thousand thoughts running around in your head. I, um, like I don’t know if you like it. If you don’t that’s-“ Your nervous ramblings are cut off by his hand wrapped around your waist, pushing you forward to him as his lips meet yours. 

You are taken completely off guard by the unexpected kiss, but he is who he is, as unpredictable as ever. The kiss is passionate and soft, oh so soft that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck. 

You break apart, in which he rests his forehead yours. 

“I love it, honey. I love it so damn much. You are so good to me, so good to me.” He says softly, eyes glassy with tears. 

Your thumb strokes his cheek, “Really?” Your heart sighs in relief. 

He nods his head, “Mm-hmm. It’s everything. You’re everything.” 

He pulls away a little and you mistake this for meaning you should pull away as well, but instead, Elvis is quick to wrap his arms around your waist. He then brings you forward more, till you are sitting in his lap with your legs on either side of him. 

“Where did ya think you were goin’ baby?” He grins, his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You find yourself chuckling at him, “Nowhere it seems.” 

“Good.”

Elvis smoothly reaches to the right side of where he’s sat, and hands you a nearly wrapped small box. You guess that it is jewelry, which wouldn’t be surprising considering the previous times Elvis bought you a gift. You know how generous he is with gifting you items of luxury, and you are grateful, but it is not something you necessarily need. Being with him is enough, in all honesty. 

You remove the wrapping, and you gasp in surprise at the contents of the box. 

“It’s a dreamcatcher.” It was a delicate dreamcatcher, a silver color, and was smaller than normal ones. You examine it further and see that there seem to be words engraved on it ‘For you, my heart. To always have good dreams only.’ E.P. 

“Whatcha’ think, honey? I-I-I know you have bad dreams sometimes, and I hate that I can’t control it. But they say a dreamcatcher helps with that. I don’t want you getting no nightmares again. Is it…is it what you-“

Tears stream down your face as you wrap your arms tightly around him, “Thank you, thank you.” You whisper, overcome with emotion. 

It’s true. You’ve been prone to getting bad dreams lately, and you’ve heard about dreamcatchers before. But you always forget to find one for yourself. 

“I’m happy you like it, Y/N.” 

You slowly pull away from him, “Of course I do. You are so so thoughtful, E. It’s just what I needed, really. “

“I love you, darlin.’.” Elvis says, looking at you in wonder as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I love you so much.” You say as you find yourself tracing his features with your finger delicately. 

“Are you happy, baby?” Elvis asks.

“I am. I don’t care much about what gift you give me, having you here is already so much for me.” You say, truthfully with a wide smile, “Are you happy, Elvis?”

“I have the most beautiful girl with me, and her heart is so big and true. I-I’m one lucky son of a bitch.” He grins, and you laugh at this. 

You pull each other into a kiss, which turns into one of the many kisses that you would share that night. It was an anniversary that exceeded everything you could have ever hoped for. You mentally slapped yourself on why you worried so much about what to get him when really, that was never the thing that mattered most. 

@literally-just-elvis-fics

Yours Truly - Chapter 13: People and Promises.

・❥・pairing: Elvis x original female character

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

・❥・wc: 5.1k

・❥・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. none.

chapter index | prev | chapter 13.5

-------------------

"For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a 'reserved' sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant." - Haruki Murakami.

NOVA

THE HOURS PASSED by in fruitful conversation with Great Aunt Odette. It fluctuated between earnest expressions and sentences, to ignition of laughter that centered around silliness of memories past. I was grateful that after unearthing my secret to someone, to her, she did not push me further with questions. It didn't mean she brushed off my confession, nor showed any signs of dubiety towards it. It was like I kept a firm, tightly secured room and I let her inside. By opening the door for her, she encouraged a breath of fresh air to travel into the room of my mind. That is and always will be the magic of Auntie Dottie - you know she believes you, you just do, no matter how incredulous you may seem. And if she doesn't, you'll know too. But in the aftermath, she prevents your mind from racing into a spiral of thoughts - she is flitting in getting a burst of laughter or two out of you, smoothly transitioning both topic and mood to lighter subjects. 

"It's disgraceful that it's already half four." Auntie Dottie shakes her head, looking down at the watch wrapped around her pale wrist. 

"I know." I sigh, "Sorry that I've got to go." 

She chuckles, "Oh, hush child. This is the true antagonist of all, " She gestures at her watch, "Time."

And I know that she purposely used literature terminology. 

"The invisible enemy you can't defeat. " I chuckle.

She nods, "No, you cannot. . . but you can run against it." Her lips slide into a wide smile, the type of smile that evokes a sense of secrecy. This, paired with a twinkle in her eyes - a look that has surpassed my childhood. 

Auntie Dottie steps forward and wraps her arms around me, a bundle of warmth swims around my body. It's a while before she parts from the hug, and when she does, she remains in her place. Her hands cup my cheeks, amidst the rising coldness of the autumn wind. 

"You are always running, Nova. I do not think you have realized it, hm?" 

I say nothing, unable to detect what exactly she is saying. Instead, I shake my head. 

"When you stumble upon a question, don't you chase for those answers? I believe you do. I also believe. . . that is no different from searching and embracing the newness in life. You chase knowledge quite ardently, why not chase life? However, yes, certainty is sparse when you do that. But you'll know, that when the parallels of time and life do meet one day, you can be certain that you know you did all you can." 

I release a deep breath that I didn't acknowledge to be holding. Auntie Dottie releases her hold of my cheeks and takes a step back. She tilts her head at me with a knowing smile on her face. At that moment, my parents' words flood my mind, but the thought quickly speeds past me as Great Aunt Odette speaks again. 

"If you remain in the mundane, in the expected - it leaves no room for magic. " Her voice reduces to a whisper at the end, "And well, you and I both know that there is a part of you that still wants to chase a little bit of magic." 

Her eyes flit over to the hardbound cover of literature that I am holding in my right hand. 

Peter Pan and Wendy. 

The very book that was once forever lost in the corners of my childhood mind. 

I am at a loss for words, but I know myself well enough that her words will be circling my mind for a number of days. 

"Thank you, Auntie Dottie. " 

She nods and with another gust of wind, assembling the rustling of auburn leaves on the ground, Auntie Dottie's smile turns into a smirk. 

"Well, dear, you best go now. The clock is ticking." She says. 

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

The journey back to the city was filled with the quick darkening of the sky, making me miss summer skies. I had my playlist playing quietly in the background as I drove, just enough to keep me company. But not at a volume that shuts out my thoughts. 

None of what I rehearsed to say actually made the cut. The drive to Great Aunt Odette this morning involved practicing the multiple ways in which I could tell her about the situation. Nonetheless, the fact still stands that I have finally revealed it to someone. Hearing your own thoughts in your head, and actually omitting them into sentences? Both are vastly different. I'm glad that I did, albeit how nervous I was, it gave me this immense relief. Of course, it wasn't surprising that Great Aunt Odette listened, but for her to wholeheartedly believe me? I guess, I wasn't quite ready for that and for the feeling of relief that it brought. 

Even more so, a walk down memory lane - the book. The book that she explained was basically my favorite thing in the world as a kid. That was an unexpected part of my visit, but then again, I should've seen it coming - seeing as Great Aunt Odette's forte is the unexpected. 

I suppose I can't quite believe that I didn't remember that book. Sure I was a kid, but It wasn't like I was three years old, making me inevitably forget about it. Why can't I recall it? I suppose I'll blame it on the ladder of growing up, and the stresses that slowly creep into one as one enters adulthood. To blame it on time. 

Time. 

Great Aunt Odette's words regarding it, and its correlation with life - I was at a loss for words. She knows me all too well. I knew that there was an inevitable end for everyone, but hearing how she explained it woke me up more. The realization that time will pass, this life will end before I know it and that will be it. A terrifying concept that makes me shake my head, as I grip the steering wheel. 

It lies in the question of; if it ends today, am I okay with that? Am I content with how I lived?

Not entirely. 

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

After two hours, the driving finally came to an end. I turn off the ignition, grab my small purse and the book, and walk up to the entrance of the building. I was in no mood to climb two flights of stairs, as my body craved the comfort of my bed after the hours-long drive. But with the building's elevator under maintenance, I had no choice. 

As I insert the key and swing the door open, I am immediately greeted by the exclamation of my roommate slash friend. He appears in the doorway at lightning speed it seems. 

"Oh my fucking God."

"Hey." I let out a yawn, "Oh gosh, I'm so tired." 

"No shit, Nova. You just drove for TWO hours? Well, actually FOUR hours. But still, holy shit?" He exclaims in disbelief, grinning brightly at me.

I walk to the living room and place my stuff on the table, as I flop my body onto the couch. 

"Yeah, I did."

"You hear that Lottie?" He says to the phone in his hand, as he faces the screen to me. 

"Oh! Hi, Lottie!" I say, waving at her despite the exhaustion slowly taking over me. 

"Nova Katerina Sinclair, I am in complete shock." She laughs. 

I look at both of them quizzically, "At my driving?"

"No, you idiot!" Charlotte replies, shaking her head at my confusion. 

"Then what?"

"When you texted me saying that you'll be visiting your Great Aunt, and won't be able to meet me for lunch. . . I shit you not, I thought your phone was stolen." Luke raises his hands in defense, emphasizing his points.

"What?" I let out a laugh, "What are you on about?"

"Then imagine my reaction when Luke told me about it." Charlotte chimes in. 

"Guys, I still don't get it."

"It's just- it's so unbelievable. When did you make the decision to go?"

I shrug, "This morning. Spur of the moment decision." 

Luke turns the phone screen to himself, eyes wide, and returns it back to face me. 

"It just sounded so un-Nova of you."

I had to laugh, "Un-Nova?"

"Yeah. You don't just go somewhere just because. You literally have a whole damn color-coded calendar for fuck's sake!" Luke says, dramatically. 

"Oh." The realization settles in me, they found that unusual. Was it really that out of character?

"Then I asked Luke to make sure it wasn't an emergency because that would explain your sudden spontaneity. But when he said that you messaged nothing of the sort, I was like, " Charlotte's eyes widen as she retells the situation, "Well, holy fucking shit."

"I didn't even. . . " I shrug, "I don't know, I just felt like it." 

"Are you sure you are Nova?" 

Luke looks up at the ceiling with his hands in the air, "Has the Earth just shifted its fucking axis?" 

I laugh at his dramatics, "Is it really that big of a deal guys?" 

"Yes!" They reply simultaneously. 

"Bad or good?"

"Definitely good."

"It's fucking fantastic, bestie."

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

After much interrogation from Charlotte and Luke, I was finally able to settle down into my bed. Their shock at my actions didn't phase out quickly, even if I retold the entire ordeal in detail. Well, of course, leaving out the part about the actual reason I decided to visit Great Aunt Odette. I love them to death, but revealing that whole situation - revealing him - that's absolutely out of the question. 

I glance at the clock opposite my bed, reading the time : 8:45PM. 

Some say that is far too early to be going to sleep, which even I can agree with. I normally find myself drifting off to sleep at 10.30PM most nights, purely because of assignments and how I can't seem to completely escape my thoughts. It's like a thousand sealed vaults in my mind all suddenly opening at the same time, and endlessly overlapping one another. It's when I then tend to believe that the mind, and the brain are independent of each other. The brain generates knowledge and helps you process through the essential, practical things of life. The mind on the other hand, that's where all your deepest thoughts wander in. The mind houses the thoughts that is centred around yourself. Constantly editing and rewinding how you were before, right now, and in the future. It's the source of both reflection and destruction. 

The mind is a maze that you can so easily get yourself lost in, and I am all too familiar with that. Except for this time, where the fatigue of my physical body has fortunately pulled me into a slumber before any overthinking can generate. My eyes were heavy with tiredness, I felt this lift slowly as I shut them. 

"Woah, so pretty!"

"She's just like a princess!"

"Oh. I know! She's like snow white!"

"Shh. . . we might wake her up."

"But she's been asleep for so long-"

"What if you need to kiss her, Mister Elvis?"

Voices. I hear multiple voices, which only makes me open my eyes in curiosity. I seem to be lying down, with the blue sky right above me. My head turns in all directions, as I find the owners of the voices. A few children surround me, but their chatter seems to have come to a stop at the sight of my opened eyes. 

"Lookin' for me?" A familiar voice catches my senses, as I turn around to my right to see him a few feet away. He stands facing me, but the left side of his body leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His foot so casually crossed over the other, as I saw that lopsided grin prominent on his face. 

I don't fail to notice that it's another version of himself that he's showing me. His hair was still stark black but with very noticeable sideburns accompanying it. Definitely 1970s. He wears a black shirt with a floral design, black pants, and boots. It's always interesting to see how he appears to me in each dream, but one thing I'm certain about - Elvis Presley was unapologetically fashionable. 

Elvis quirks an eyebrow at me, no doubt awaiting my response. I just hope he didn't notice that I stared for a while, well, only because I was curious about his attire. An attire that I am well aware of has a few buttons opened at the front, clearly exposing his tanned chest. 

I find myself clearing my throat. 

"And what if I wasn't?" I say jokingly, as I feel an uncontrollable smile pull at my lips. 

He chuckles quietly to himself and nods. Elvis takes a few steps before he is right beside me, as the children part to give him space. He takes a glance at the children and releases a dramatic sigh, "Well, kids, it looks like we have a liar among us." 

I gasp, "Elvis!" 

They giggle. 

Elvis laughs, "Yes, honey?" 

I push off my hands, sitting myself up. It appears that I am wearing a short, white summer dress with roses adorning the design. In my previous dream, it was the colder season, which is far from the outfit that I seem to be wearing at this moment. But then again, the sky is blue and clear, and the chilling bite of the cold appears to be absent. So, I guess it's summer now in this dream? 

"Oh, look! Miss Nova, you and Mister Elvis have flowers on your clothes!" One of the children, the girl with a beautiful, dark complexion alerts me in glee. Her finger pointed enthusiastically at my attire and Elvis.' 

My eyes cast over his shirt and my dress, and evidently, we seem to both be wearing a floral design. My cheeks heat up unexpectedly. 

I exchanged a look with him, which he returns with a proud smirk, "Why, I believe you're right, lil' Dorothy." 

"But mine looks better, right?" I ask, smiling at the girl, whose name I know now is Dorothy. 

She nods vigorously with a cheeky smile. 

"Ouch," Elvis says. 

"B-But yours looks nice too Mister Elvis!" Dorothy quickly sputters out.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"I think you look cool, Mister Elvis." One of the boys, with sandy blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, says encouragingly. 

"I appreciate it, Ollie." He smiles, patting the boy on the head. 

Elvis throws me a triumphant grin, "Oh, how the tables have turned." 

"You're unbelievable." 

Unbelievably gorgeous. 

My brain echoes a thought, in which I furiously shake my head noticing my cheeks heat up. 

Elvis swiftly pulls the conversation into properly introducing me to the children. There are four of them in total, two boys and two girls. I would guess they are around five or six years old, but that's just judging by their heights. Nonetheless, if I believe that Elvis is real and he's appearing from the afterlife, then that must only mean one thing - these children are those of the afterlife too. All of them died young. I feel my eyes water the slightest bit, which I quickly shake off. My sadness at the thought can't be displayed, not with the children's happy smiles as they chatter excitedly. 

"Dorothy, Ollie, Maisie, and Alfie!" I say, pointing at them one by one, learning their names. 

"Yay!" They cheer in glee. They run up to me and wrap their arms around me, well, more like my legs because of their height. I am taken aback and laugh, finding myself bending down a little to wrap my arms around them as best as I can. Not even a minute later, they are chattering amongst themselves, still not letting go of me though.

I look up, feeling his eyes on me. Elvis' eyes pierce through mine, his tongue smoothly swipes over his lips as he mouths words to me. 

I arch an eyebrow in confusion. 

He chuckles and mouths it again but with more exaggeration. 

"I've missed you." He mouths. 

Oh. Oh. 

Wait. . . did I interpret that correctly? 

It's really only been twenty-four hours. 

Suddenly, I feel the need to blame the sun for the sudden heat that I feel bleed on my skin. That would've been simple if it weren't for a slight skip that I feel in my chest. . . because that certainly cannot be the sun's doing. 

I tilt my head at him, "Really?" I mouth back, smiling. 

He doesn't say anything back like I thought he would. Instead, he strides forward until he's right behind me. Effectively finding a space, despite the bunch of kids that surround me. 

His chest is pressed to my back, a fact that only escalates the thump I feel in my heart. My breath seems to be trapped in my throat. His hands brush slightly against my shoulder, as he takes a lock of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. 

I feel his breath tickle my cheek as he leans in to whisper, "Always." 

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

Not too long later, I found myself sitting down on a field of grass with the children in a circle. I sat with the girls and the boys sat with Elvis. So, technically, not a circle as they sat quite a few feet away from us. The children insisted on a girls versus boys team. Upon hearing this, I expected to be playing a sport. But instead, here we are, making friendship bracelets. 

"This is really fun, " I admit to them honestly, "I haven't done this in so long." 

A box full of a variety of beads, elastic bands, and sticker sheets sat on the grass. I smile at Dorothy and Maisie, as I loop some beads through the elastic band in my hand - starting a new bracelet. It reminded me so much of my childhood, how during breaks in elementary school, we'd all be crowding around the craft area to find ourselves what we needed to make DIY 'friendship' bracelets. 

"It's my favorite thing in the entire world, Miss Nova!" Maisie says enthusiastically, as she leans over to a few shiny beads from the box. 

I chuckle, "I see that. I'm guessing your favorite color is pink?" I gesture towards the three finished pink-colored bracelets, which mirror the same color as her dress and shoes. 

She nods, smiling widely "Yes. Yes."

So adorable and so young. They didn't deserve to leave the world so young, with so much joy and life they never got to live. 

I feel a tug on the skirt of my dress, I turn my head to see Dorothy. 

"You okay, sweetie?"

"What is your favorite color, Miss Nova?" She asks, her hazel eyes awaiting my response. 

"Hm. . . um, I guess red. Yeah, I like red." 

"Okay! I'll make you a red one!" Dorothy replies, taking a handful of red beads, stickers, and an elastic band from the box. 

It's quiet for a while, in which I find myself taking a curious glance at Elvis and the boys. It seems that each boy is holding each of his arms, as they fit the bracelets on his wrist. It also appears that he has several bracelets on either arm, which I couldn't help but chuckle at the boys' enthusiasm. 

"Can I tell you something, Miss Nova?" Maisie asks me, as I turn to face her finding her tilting her orange-braided hair at me. Adorable. 

"Of course." I smile. 

"It's nice to have another girl to make bracelets with us, " She then pauses to release a sad sigh, "Because it has only been me and Dorothy." 

"I am happy to be here, Maisie." 

"Maisie's right," Dorothy jumps into the conversation, "It's really nice. It was nice when it was me and Maisie, because we are best friends forever. Mister Elvis is nice and makes bracelets with us, b-but he's a boy." She sighs. 

The braided girl nods agreeing with her friend's words, "Yeah, he's on the boys' team. We needed one more girl." 

I chuckle at how adorable they are, "Here I am." 

"Thank you, Miss Nova. For being on our team and for Mister Elvis." 

They nodded to each other. 

"Mister Elvis?" I repeat, not quite understand what the kids meant in the latter of their sentence. 

"Yes, for making him happy," Maisie replies cheerfully, as she ties the end of the newly-finished bracelet in her hands. 

"Oh, well-"

"He's happy when me, Maisie, Ollie, and Alfie see him. But when he's not looking," Dorothy pauses and whispers, "You promise to keep a secret?"

I accept the pinky promise, "I promise."

Dorothy then continues, but making sure to keep her voice lowered. 

"Sometimes we spy on him. We find a wall or a tree or a bus stop, and we hide. And he's not smiling no more. He's crying a lot, Miss Nova. And if he's not crying, he looks very sad. But now you're here, he smiles," Dorothy explains. 

"All the time," Maisie adds. 

My heart simultaneously crashes and mends at their words. It reminds me of Miss Esther's words to me at the cafe. How she described Elvis being 'very down' before I appeared. Now that the same words have come from more than one person, it almost makes me want to ask him about it. Not too directly, because I fear it's not something he wants to talk about. But I just feel this need to know what was it that made his emotions blend so easily with the dark of the night sky. For his eyes to cascade with tears so endlessly like the rush of a waterfall. I didn't need to know, but I want to know. I want to know what so desperately what hurt him enough for his emotions to slip out of the confines of his heart, and out into the open. 

But I know that will be easier said than done. Answering serious questions isn't exactly something that Elvis is fond of. It reminds me of the time when I asked him a series of questions, and he responded with only one word. But that didn't end well, with him being in a flood of tears. I don't want to cause that. I'll ask him eventually, but not now. . . just not now. 

"That's seven, Dorothy!" Maisie's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. 

"Oh, I know!" Dorothy claps her hands excitedly.

I look down and sure enough, the girls have made seven friendship bracelets combined. 

"Wow, that's a lot. You girls work fast." I say, clapping for them as they grin proudly at my compliment. 

"Thanks, Miss Nova. But not as many bracelets as Mister Elvis." Dorothy admitted. 

I glance over to Elvis and sure enough, friendship bracelets take up the entirety of his right arm. His sleeves rolled up. Elvis must've felt my eyes on him, as he looked up with a mock defeated look in his eyes. Those boys are really on their way to decorating his arms like the lights on a Christmas tree, and I can't help but laugh at the expression on his face. 

"Yeah, I can't exactly argue with that." 

"Not those bracelets, Miss Nova."

I turn away and face the girls. 

"Oh, then which ones?" I furrow my eyebrows. 

"You don't know?" Dorothy questions with a frown. 

Well, isn't that a million-dollar question? Seriously. 

I shake my head. 

"The ones he made for you," Maisie says casually as if it's the most obvious answer in the world. 

"For me?"

They both nod, as they use their fingers to count. No doubt counting how many bracelets Elvis made. . . for me. 

"Twelve. I-I think?" Maisie says, nodding with Dorothy. 

"Wow, that's um, that's definitely a lot." I chuckle.

"That's what we said too. People make friendship bracelets for people they care about. " Dorothy shrugs, "Mister Elvis made twelve for you. He must care about you like, I don't know, like a trillion times more." She chuckles, holding her fingers up as if she lost count. 

Every time I'm with him, in these dreams - I can never predict what will happen. The spontaneity of his character blended with the reserved nature of mine. That is a stark contrast. Each dream that I spent with him so far, has been full of experiences that I've never had before. All quite. . . grand and eventful. But this one right here, this unknown discovery, this small surprise - renders me speechless just the same.

No matter how uncertain I am about many things related to my dreams, I am certain about one thing. Nobody makes a dozen bracelets for a random girl. For a stranger. It brings me back to the question I asked him, a while ago, but feeling so long ago now:

Who am I to you, Elvis?

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

After what felt like an hour, we said our goodbyes to the children. The time with them wasn't only filled with making friendship bracelets, but also playing along with their games of hide and seek, and games at the park. They were an adorable bunch, but soon enough, daylight turned into night. In which, we found the children had lost their energy, and were ready to close their eyes into a slumber.

Now, Elvis and I walked down a long stretch of rural road. The gravel released a 'crunch' sound each time my feet met the ground. On either side of the road, a row of cypress trees accompanied the landscape. A picturesque atmosphere of solitude and beauty, with the blanket of the night sky overlaying everything around us. 

"Elvis, no! That's horrible!" I gasp, hitting his arm playfully. 

Elvis simply laughs. He laughs and even though, I've heard him laugh quite a few times before - but I notice something different this time. Well, not anything new, but just something I've never noticed before. He has a kind of hiccup to his laugh, it's just so distinctly him. It's melodious, as it always is. To the point where I semi-forget what he just told me, and end up laughing along with him. 

He points at me, "But you're laughing, honey!"

"No! It's just- it's horrible!" I try desperately reinstating my disagreed expression. 

We were talking about what more was on my list, and what was the next thing. This then went down the topic of conversation around theme parks. Now, I think theme parks are great, they are wonderful. But definitely not a fan of. . . rollercoasters. In this case, Elvis tells me he has a story about rollercoasters. He tells me how he'll get on a rollercoaster with a friend, or a date, and just before halfway - he jumps out. Logically, whoever he's with, ends up screaming and thinking the worst has happened to him. But there he was, on the sidelines, all safe and laughing his ass off at their reaction. 

"It was hellavu lot of fun," He defends, shaking his head as he grins at the memory. 

"Well, It's clear that you and I have different definitions of fun."

"Just try it, honey."

I squint my eyes at him, "I, well-"

He puts his hands up in defense, "I promise. . . no surprises." He says, with a smirk on his lips. Elvis sure does love the unpredictable, almost crazy things that he comes up with - it makes it impossible to believe him when he says this. 

"No jumping?" 

He shakes his head, "Nope."

"Here, gimme your hand," He urges, and I do so. 

He takes my hand in his and intertwines our pinkies, "What do ya want me to promise?" Elvis questions, a pure smile wrapped on his face, all void of playfulness. 

"That if. . . if I go on a rollercoaster with you, or that matter whenever you're with me - you won't do something batshit crazy. If you do, because I swear if you do, I-I'll never-"

He cuts me off, "Speak to me again?"

"Recover, " I say, my tone quiet as I look away from his gaze. I know this is all a dream, but I also have to face the possibility of things treading beyond what I think a dream is and what it is not. 

I am aware that Elvis does not. . . physically exist in the real world anymore. But here, right now, with me he's very real. And as far as I am concerned, if I can control one thing - in this mayhem of dreams - it's his safety. 

I swallow as I try to find my voice again, "I don't want to see you hurt." 

I gain the strength to face his way again, and his mouth begins to form words - seems like he's figuring out how to say something. But he holds himself back, resulting in a simple nod, "Okay, I promise." He whispers, intertwining our pinkies together. 

I clear my throat, in an attempt to dissipate the tense atmosphere. Elvis doesn't let go of my hand, instead effectively intertwining our hands together. The warm press of his palm on mine, as he squeezes my hand in reassurance. He has held my hand before, but this time - it doesn't fall loosely. It's tighter, but not heavy and unbearable. There's more urgency and a sense of security in this one, like an invisible armor separating us from whatever treacherous obstacles we might encounter. 

The purest message of a promise. 

His gaze joins mine, as I look down at our joined hands. 

"I'll be right beside ya. No one's gonna be hurt. " Elvis says, softly. 

I nod. 

I clear my throat, "Right then, where are you taking me?" I smile curiously at him. 

And just like that, in a flash, his cool laid-back demeanor returns. 

Elvis bites down his bottom lip, as he slowly tugs onto my hand - walking a few steps before me, but nevertheless, still facing me. 

"Just one question, darlin'." 

"Which is?" 

"Do you trust me?" He asks, with a mischievous grin along with that beautiful twinkle in his blue eyes. 

"Always." I breathe out in reply, without a second of hesitation. And perhaps, it's a word that is so easy for me to slip out of my mouth - so easy to say to him. Almost as automatic as breathing in air. 

Elvis chuckles, swiftly planting a kiss on my knuckles and tugging me forward until my chest is pressed against his. I squeal at the action. 

"Let's go."

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

taglist:

@literally-just-elvis-fics

@obsessedwithurlove

@simplyamberj

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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