Yours Truly - Tumblr Posts

You're allowed to change your mind on things. Your opinion can evolve, your desires can change, your priorities can shift. What made you happy at one point in time doesn't have to be your focus anymore. Your attention can go to other things, new ideals can form. Things don't have to be so black and white. What is now doesn't have to be forever. It's okay if you decide to stop being a vegan 5 years from now. It's okay if you stop caring about fashion. It's okay if you sell your collection of whatever, even though you've built a big brand off of it. Not everything that you engage in must be with you for life.

Yours Truly - Chapter 2: Mystery Train

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 1.8k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW.

・❥・ Notes: And here we are with Chapter 2! I had so much fun writing this chapter. Chapter 1 was purely to set the scene and really solidify the main characters, with only a glimpse of Elvis at the end. But this one offers the main core of the story, I believe. The heart and soul of it all. I like to be ambiguous, so I do like to leave hints here and there :) 

|chapter index |prev | chapter 3

--

NOVA 

I take a few more sips of water and gently place the glass on the floor, as my eyes find there is an absence of a table. 

I then peer at him, "Awake?" I quickly shook my head at the word. There are a few instances in life where the rule of a 'pinch-me' moment applies, this is not one of those. Those moments happen when a pleasant surprise enters your life, nothing too far out. But this does not even graze the scopes of reality even a little bit. 

Elvis nods, "Yeah." 

I shook my head again, "I don't think so. I'm dreaming." I firmly say.

"Oh, darlin," A smirk forms on his lips and briefly glances at the window to his left before facing me again, "What makes you think that?" His thumb and forefinger on his bottom lip with his elbow leaning on the windowsill. 

I try to avert my eyes from the gesture and focus back on his gaze, waiting for me to answer his question. 

I tilt my head, "I was in my bed seconds ago. it was the end of my birthday party. Now, I'm on a train - which I don't remember getting on - and Elvis Presley is sat in front of me." I gesture to him with both hands, trying to emphasise the ridiculousness of the situation. 

My goodness, even the words coming out of my mouth sound completely insane. 

His azure gaze pierced into me, "You've got it right." He nodded, an amused smirk remained on his lips. 

"So you agree? that I must be dreaming, right?" 

Elvis chuckles calmly, "No, honey. I'm sayin' I am who you say I am and we are on a train." 

"But. . .none of this makes any sense!" I scoffed, not knowing anymore who I am trying to convince more; myself or him? I place my head in my hands, trying to comprehend. 

"Hmm, I agree. " He says, catching my attention to look up at him. 

He continues, "Why serve food and drinks if there is nowhere to place them in this compartment?" He gestures to my empty glass of water on the floor and laughs to himself.

I squint at him, "What are you on about?" 

He shrugs, "What? It doesn't make any sense, Nova." 

I place my head back down in my hands, "My goodness, it's like we are having two different conversations. This is getting nowhere." I mumble under my breath. 

I shot of realisation coursed through me and I looked up, straightening my posture, "Alright. If this isn't a dream then how do you know my name?" 

"How do you know mine?" He says playfully, pointing at himself. 

"That's not the same. You are known by thousands of people, and I'm only known by my friends and family. " I explained as a matter-of-fact. 

"And I am not one of your friends?" Elvis asks, furrowing his eyebrows in mock-hurt. 

"We've never met before and it's impossible to know each other because you're. . ." My words get trap in my throat, "Well. . .you're no longer-"

"Alive." He finishes my sentence, his tone laced in seriousness - a switch from his playful nature of conversing this whole time. 

I bit my bottom lip and I slowly nod.

Silence. 

I clear my throat, "I'm sorry. I . . ." I fiddle with my thumbs, a bad habit that occurs when I cannot quite grasp the facts of the situation at hand. 

"It's alright, darlin." Elvis says quietly, leaning closely and grasps my shaky hands. 

"I just don't like not knowing anything. "

"No one does." He replies. 

"I like knowing the situation and I like the logic because then I'll be able to plan my next move. " I explain, taking my hands away from his hold. 

"I know," Elvis says, a smile forming on his lips - a smile that reached his blue eyes. 

He knows?

Elvis runs his right hand through his jet-black hair, and sighs a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, "Okay. " 

"Okay?" I raise my eyebrow. 

"If you say you are dreaming honey, then okay you are dreaming." He says for the sake of calming me down, even though his eyes are only showing how he is anything but believing his words. 

Still, it comforts me. This entire conversation that I've had with him thus far has been filled with confusion and persistent question on my part, which might have been annoying for him. But I think anyone would be thrown off by it, even more so the fact that Elvis Presley has never made an appearance in my dreams before. And for him to disagree with my judgement and dismiss this as a dream. I'm glad that he has finally offered logical reassurance, something that I needed to hear - it provides the safety of being in the once unknown environment. 

I sighed in relief, "Thank you." I feel my lips pulling upwards into a smile. 

I glance out the window, the passing scenery is beautiful. Lush green hills and evergreen trees, with that quiet hum of the wind. My mind retraces back to the first words he ever said to me, I turn back to him to find him gazing at me. 

His gaze was intense, I feel heat rush to my cheeks. 

"Um. . . I have a question."

"Go on, " He nods, encouragingly. 

"This is a dream. Does this mean you're a ghost? or. . . did I make you up?" I slowly said. 

He chuckles with a shake of a head, "You are a bright girl, Nova. Everything in that pretty head of yours can make anything happen." He points at me, a charming smile prominent on his lips.

"That doesn't answer my question." I chuckle and shake my head, "But okay, okay. A dream is a dream."

"Answer this one then." I begin. 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"When I opened my eyes you said that you were glad to finally find me. What exactly did you mean by that?" I tilted my head. Now that we have established that I am dreaming, my brain retraced the first words Elvis has ever said to me and those words do not sound like a typical conversation-starter. 

The train comes to a screeching halt and I furrow my eyebrows. Elvis pats his hands on his knees and stands up, "Looks like we're here."

"And where is that?" I anxiously ask, looking out the window as I feel a nervous pull in the pit of my stomach - the unknown again. 

"Come on, you'll see." He offers his hands to me.

"You haven't answered my question." 

His forehead knots with a frown on his lips, "I have, Nova."

I shook my head, "No, the one about why you said those words to me?"

His mouth forms an 'O' at realisation, he looks down and shakes his head - his black hair shakes lightly into a less put-together style. But yet, he still manages to pull it off. Elvis chuckles to himself and finally looks up, "You."

"Yeah I know you said those to me-"

He shook his head, "No. I mean. . ." He takes a deep breath, "You. . . I said that because you found me." He softly says, his eyes anticipate a reaction from me. 

He must've sensed the increase in my confusion, so he sighs and says, "Don't worry about it , honey. You coming with me, or be left on this train?" He playfully says, and gestures at the scenery outside the window. 

I sigh with a small smile on my lips and stand up, "Fine. Just tell me. . . where are we?" I ask, taking his hand. 

"Trust me, okay?" He grips my hand tightly in comfort. 

"But what if there's something dangerous? or it's-"

"I won't take no for answer. Sometimes, you gotta just do it and see what's out there. Sometimes you just gotta take a jump." He smirks. 

"Oh, God, that's risky! What if you're a mad man?" I ramble, nervousness piling up in my stomach. 

"You said it yourself, Nova. We don't know each other. So come with me and get to know me." 

It's just a dream.

I nod and he flashes me that infamous smirk of his, licking his bottom lips, "Let's go."

next chapter

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

Yours Truly - Chapter 4: How Do You Know?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 3.3k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. curse words, brief mentions of sex (literally a single sentence).

|chapter index |prev | chapter 5

--

NOVA 

As the door swung open, the bell above it dings to signify the presence of us. The smell of roasted coffee beans fill my nostrils, its scent permanently nestle in the air of the cafe. The cafe tables adorn the small, but inviting space - its mahogany wood nicely greeted by the warm, ambient lighting. A few chalkboards adorn the walls above the counter, listing the selection of choices that we may purchase. We approach the long counter, and my eyes immediately flock to the contents to the three layers of the glass display case. An assortment of luscious pastries sit invitingly on pastry tray displays; cakes, donuts, cinnamon rolls, croissants, pie and muffins. 

The various baked goods make me unconsciously lick my lips. 

"I take that you like what you see, huh?" Elvis questions in a rhetorical tone, his voice taking my attention away from the sweet delights. 

I smiled, "Very much so." 

Before he could say another word, we are interrupted by a loud and cheery voice of a woman.  

"Elvis!" A woman who looked to be in her late fifties wore a bright smile on her face, as she quickly rounded the counter and enveloped the man beside me in a tight hug. She had red hair secured in a  tight bun, and welcoming brown eyes. She wore an apron over a burgundy dress and a shinning name tag clipped on it. 

She parted from the hug with her hands cupping his face, "Aw look at you sweet boy, still handsome as ever." 

"Not as beautiful as you are Miss Esther." Elvis muses, with a beaming smile that provided a small glimpse of child-like happiness. 

The lady chuckles "Ever the charmer."

Elvis chuckles at this, he returns to my side with his right hand lightly touching my lower back. I feel a rush of warmth through my body, like a jolt of electricity. I intake a sharp breath and pull my lips into my best smile, although my mind is captivated by the lightest touch of his hand. 

"I have brought someone special with me. This is-"

"Heavens above. . .Nova?" A gasp escapes her, her hand quickly covering her mouth as her eyes widened - staring into mine. My brain was still processing Elvis' description of me as 'someone special' and now, on top of that is this wave of shock that seems to be aimed at me. 

How does she know me? I am dreaming. I am dreaming. I am dreaming. I repeat this in my mind because it is the only logical explanation. This is not real. 

I slowly nodded, "Yes, that's me." 

"Nova, meet the great Miss Esther." Elvis says, as she envelops me into her arms. I am beyond confused, but her warm motherly nature eases me a little - I return her hug. She parts from the hug, and her hands slide down to my arms as she smiles brightly at me. But the pure picture of disbelief still very much evident on her face. 

"Oh my, it is such a pleasure to meet you, dear." Her voice is filled with clear delight. 

"It is so nice to meet you too, Miss Esther. I like this place, its calming." I smile, finally mustering a string of words despite my brain running with a million questions. 

"Well, it's hard not to like when it is owned by someone as great as Miss Esther." Elvis smiles, putting his arm around her shoulder into a side hug. 

Miss Esther shakes her head, "You flatter me too much, sweet boy. I know that you only say that because of the food and hot drinks." 

"That's only half true." Elvis shrugs jokingly. 

Miss Esther mocks a gasp, "I knew it! My, my, I feel sorry for that this nice girl is stuck with you." She gestures at me. 

I let out a laugh, "He is a bit of work." I sigh very dramatically. 

"Hey, don't be lying honey!" Elvis plays along, his eyes intense as ever - his level of eye contact make my cheeks heat up a little. 

Our laughter eventually dies down.

Miss Esther's eyes flicker between me and Elvis, a glint in her eyes that I can't quite decipher. 

"Now, what can I get you both?" 

Elvis' eyes light up at the question, removing his hand from my back and steps forward to the selection of choices displayed. I try my best to ignore the absence of the warmth, and instead focus on Miss Esther coming beside me to lean forward - her voice lowered to a whisper in my ear. 

"Truthfully dear, I am not the least bit surprised that this boy was so hung up on looking for you." Miss Esther placed a finger under my chin, tilting it up a little - a gesture that I was all too familiar with that my grandmother does, "You are a beauty." 

I am relieved that Elvis is not within earshot to hear this, as I feel my cheeks bloom a shade of rose embarrassingly. He is far too distracted with picking what to order. 

"Looking for me? What do you mean?" I furrow my eyebrows at her.

Miss Esther tilts her head, appearing to be wearing the same confusion on her features, "Oh, didn't he tell you Nova?"

"Tell me what?" 

Miss Esther's mouth opens to begin a response, but is interrupted by the sound of Elvis' voice. We both turn our heads towards him, his hands on his hips with an eyebrow arched at me. 

My mind is puzzled even more by Miss Esther's words, and I do appear to be zoned-out when Elvis looks at me questioningly. I shake my head, "Sorry. . . what were you saying?"

He chuckles at this, "I was asking you if you want anything else. " I approach him and peer at the pastries displayed on top of the round glass trays.  In the corner of my eye, I see Miss Esther walk around and position herself behind the counter as she taps her fingers on the counter - humming a tune. 

"I've chosen two slices of the red velvet cake and two cups of coffee for us. So, anything you wanna add?" He asks, but I freeze at  the mention of the choices he has picked.  He quickly notices this. 

"Why? What's wrong?" 

I shake my head, "Nothing. It's just, um, what made you pick the red velvet cake?" 

"Because what kind of guy does that make me if I don't order it for the birthday girl?" His southern drawl evident, as his lips pull into a crooked grin.

It's a dream. It's a dream. It's a dream. Is it really?

A chuckle escapes me in disbelief, "I- I have no words. Red velvet is my favorite." 

A dream is a product of my subconscious mind, so of course Elvis would know this because everything about who I am is stored within the corners of my mind. All of this has to be a dream. I created this all. Well, my subconscious mind did. 

Miss Esther suggests her special pie that I 'must' try, in which I was hesitant at first due to my nature of not being an adventurous eater at all. But eventually I gave in. We insist to wait for our orders, but Miss Esther ushers us to a table near the front window and informs us that she will bring it out to us when it's ready.

"Well, she is the boss." I chuckle, as we sat down opposite each other. 

"That's Miss Esther for you, the nicest lady but no point being stubborn around her." Elvis laughs, shaking his head. 

A silence falls on us with the only noise being the chatter of the other customers occupying the cafe. 

I don't want to wrestle with my thoughts anymore, it might cause an unfortunate headache which would ruin this dream. I think out of the million questions that ares swimming in my head, there is one that I can keep whilst filtering out all the rest; why is Elvis Presley in my dream? I understand that dreaming about celebrities  is not an experience that is uniquely for me because everyone dreams about celebrities. But I always believed that, if someone were to dream about a celebrity; it would often be a celebrity that they have spent a lot of time thinking about. A celebrity that they are a huge fan of. 

I'm not a huge fan of Elvis Presley, but I am also not a hater. I only just begun learning about him after watching that Elvis movie that came out in the summer. But for him to appear in my dreams? It was not like he was actively occupying my mind throughout the day; because he wasn't. 

It just does not make sense. No matter how much I try, I just keep running back to square one. I guess the only thing that calms my rational mind is that this dream will end eventually, might as well make the most of it. 

As I return my gaze on the present time, I study him. His black hair matched perfectly with his tanned skin, and those smouldering blue eyes with that twinkle of wonder and amusement in them. His features are chiseled, a maturity to him that eliminates the baby fat on his face. He does not have that boyish look about him anymore, there is sureness and confidence that comes from maturity. 

I pursed my lips in wonder.

"What is it , honey?" Elvis asks, snapping me out of my stare on him. 

"Hmm?"

"I ain't a mind reader. Would you tell me what's going on in that pretty mind of yours?" Elvis smirks, biting on his bottom lip. 

I feel  a rush of heat on my cheeks, as I try to fight back a smile. 

"My goodness, you are such a flirt." 

He leads forward a little and holds his hand up as if to count on his fingers, "So now I'm a psychopathic, impulsive, flirty guy? Hot damn." He jokes, letting out a whistle. 

"You really are a wild combo." I squinted my eyes jokingly at him, pointing my finger at him. 

He suddenly leans forward even more, and without any warning - bites onto my finger. I yelp in surprise, his eyes stare at me intently as I giggle uncontrollably trying to retract my finger. 

"Hey!"

He lets me go and casually leans back on his chair with his arms folded over his chest, a laugh bubbling out of him. 

I cannot help but join him in his laughter, it's a laugh that just really encapsulates his entire being. His shoulders moving up and down, as he looks up and then gazes back down to me. 

"You are a strange, strange man." I said in between my laughs. 

"Gotta keep things interesting, honey."

Before I could respond to him, we are interrupted by Miss Esther approaching our table holding a tray of our order. She places it on the table, and transfer the contents from the tray, in which I notice a candle on top of the slice of cake in front of me. 

"Enjoy, kids." Miss Esther smiles and then rubs my shoulder, "Happy birthday, sweetie."  

"Thank you, Miss Esther." 

"Thank you Miss Esther, this looks good." Elvis says. 

She then leaves and Elvis turns to me, "Are you gonna make a wish?"

I close my eyes and think for a second. . .

I wish to have the answers to my questions. 

I open my eyes and blow out the single candle. 

"Happy Birthday, Nova." He smiles at me, and it's not a smile that stops at the lips. It's a smile that reaches his eyes, it's the kind that you cannot help but smile back. 

"Thanks, E.P." 

His blue eyes widen a little in surprise, and my forehead creases in surprises and confusion. Where did that come from? Why did I call him that?

"You haven't called me that-"

I wave my hands quickly in embarrassment, "Oh god, so sorry I don't know what came over me."

"Relax, darlin'. Relax. It's okay." Elvis shrugs, chuckling. I see him lift his hand, as he nervously scratches the nape of his neck, "I was surprised, that's all. You haven't called me that in a long time."  His tone seems to be in a daze. 

I squinted at him, "What do you-"

Elvis clears his throat and turns his gaze to the food on the table. 

"We should eat." He interrupts, "and you have to try this pie!" He takes a bite out of the slice of cake and then the Banoffee pie afterwards. 

I shake my head at this and remind myself 'do not think too much of it Nova.' I first take a bite out of the red velvet cake and the familiar luscious delight makes me beam. It was always either chocolate or red velvet for me, I've tended to switch between the two for each of my previous birthdays. 

I take a small portion out of the Banoffee pie, as Elvis anticipates my reaction, "What'd you think?" 

"Oh my gosh, that is amazing!" I exclaimed, quickly taking another bite out of it.

--

After we finished eating, we bid goodbye to Miss Esther in which she wishes for us to come back soon. And I truly do want to, but this is not real life. 

We step out of the cafe with Elvis ahead of me, he stops and faces me. 

"I have a birthday present for you." 

"You do?"

He nods, "So we need to get to where it is." 

"How?" 

He flashes me his signature smirk at my question, in which I panic a little, "Oh no, what do you have planned now?"

He tucks his hands into his front pockets, facing away from me and began to walk across the street. 

"Elvis! Where are you going?" 

He briefly turns to me and uses his head to beckon me to follow him. I sigh and follow him into yet, another unknown. 

"Wrong question, honey. It's where are WE going?"

--

"Nova? Nova?" 

A hand is rapidly shaking my arm, I gasped bolting my eyes open. I blink my eyes a few times and survey my surroundings; beige walls, photos, posters, a closet. It seems to be that I am laying down, my hands move around and feel soft material beneath it; my bed. I am in my bedroom. I slowly slide myself up in a sitting position. 

"It was a dream. It was all a dream." I mutter to myself, swallowing hard at the realisation. 

"Of course it was, you nutcase!" I turn to my right and see Luke with his backpack slung over his shoulder, holding a jug of water. 

I yawn, "Luke? What?" 

"F.ucking hell, woman! I have been trying to wake your ass up for the past, " He pauses, looking at the watch on his wrist, "Fifteen minutes now!" 

I shake my head a little, "Why?"

He takes out his phone from his pocket and faces the screen to me. It's Monday. Monday which means we have a lecture today. 

"Oh s.hit." 

"Exactly! You better get dressed now, or I will be using this jug of water after all!" He threatens to spill it on me. 

"Okay! Okay. I'm up." I get up from the bed, rush to my closet to retrieve the outfit that I have planned a week ago and then rush to my bathroom with a quick shut of the door. 

It's not that Luke particularly cares about being late for class, because he doesn't. It's just that the seats in this specific class become full very quickly, and the only unoccupied seats that would be left are the ones at the very front. Ones that both myself and Luke hate since this particular professor just loves to aim the questions at the people in front row. And there is no room for error; this professor wants the right answer. If you are not precisely providing him the right answer - it is the humiliating. That is why the very back row is the safe haven in this class. 

I plop my clothes on the bathroom counter near the sink, as I start to brush my teeth. 

"Luke, I am so so sorry! This never happens."

I hear Luke pacing back and forth outside the door. 

"It never does which makes me think. . . " Luke gasps, "Were you having a s.ex dream?" Luke questions in a hush whisper, his pacing steps stops. 

"What?! Oh god, no!" My cheeks flare up in embarrassment at the thought. 

"You sure?" 

I shake my head, even though he cannot see me. 

"I am positive, Luke!"

"Positive that you were having one or positive you weren't?" He asks further, his voice closer now as I imagine him closer to the door. 

I quickly finish changing into my clothes and swung the door open as I brushed through my hair. 

"I did not have a s.ex dream. "

He puts his hands up in defence, "Just making sure. I mean, even if you did - I would not be the one to judge you, bestie. I myself indulge in my own share of pleasurable dreams, so-"

I shut my eyes and wave my hands, "No, no, no. let's drop it now, okay?"

Luke laughs at my reaction, "Alright. But you can't blame me for asking though since I have never seen you in such a deep sleep. Plus,  you did have a really big smile on your face." He arched an eyebrow at me with an amused grin, teasing me. 

"I did?" 

"Uh-huh. Like a child on Christmas morning. You were glowing, missy." He elbowed me playfully. 

We exit the apartment and make our way to the parking lot. As I close the door to my car, all that fills my mind is the fact that for the first time in my lifetime; I can remember it all. I remember my dream. Every detail, and it is so vivid in my mind. 

It was so real. It felt so real. 

I let out a deep sigh, and start the engine as I turn the radio on. I reverse out the parking lot, as Luke drives closely behind. 

"Good morning to all our listeners. Ah, Monday. Another week continues! If you are a student dreading the classroom, or an office worker mustering the strength to get though that 9 to 5 routine - we are here at HITS 101. Bringing you all music that will get you through whatever the season. Now we have requests coming in very fast. Our first request is an old, but gold tune. This person requested this to be played for their friend whose recently celebrated their birthday. Here is A Little Less Conversation by The King, Elvis Presley!" 

I almost slammed my brakes. 

next chapter

Yours Truly - Chapter 5: Questions, Questions, Questions

・❥・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. speeding lol, minor character injury, quite angsty.

|chapter index| prev | chapter 6

--

NOVA

A sharp gust of wind blew past me, its never-ending force meeting my skin. It was difficult to adjust to my surroundings, for all I saw is the landscapes flying by past me. Then it occurs to me - I am on a moving vehicle. And I am most certain the person operating the said vehicle - is him. 

"What the hell?!" I exclaimed. 

"Hold on, honey!" With his response, I circle my arms around his waist tightly. 

I have heard of Elvis' love for vehicles. His iconic Pink Cadillac was only one example, but I have heard of his collection of hundreds of cars and evidently-so, his love for motorcycles it seems. 

"Since when did you have a motorcycle?" I inquired, trying my best to level my voice to a volume that he will hear me, despite the encompassing wind. 

"What?" He countered back, briefly turning his head to me before refocusing back on the road. I attempt to repeat my question, but know that he could not hear me - so I focus on stabilising myself on the speeding vehicle and frantically try to distract myself on the fact that this is happening. 

I feel my heart beating loudly against my chest, like it's a beat away from truly escaping out of it. I have steered clear away from motorcycles in my life so far. They are the epicentre of everything that symbolised danger and higher chances of the safety line being crossed. I enjoy my peace and my safety, thus I never saw the appeal of riding a motorcycle. 

Elvis' howling laughter shakes me out of my thoughts. 

"Woohoo! Ain't it fun?" He doesn't turn his head around, but I can sense that he is grinning from the pure sound of glee in his voice. 

I shake my head and then realise that he can't see me. 

"You are crazy!"

He increases the speed which I did not think was possible from the rate that he was going, but it was. My eyes shut with the veins of fear gripping onto me, like it always did. At least maybe with my eyes closed now, it wouldn't be as frightening and we will get to where we are heading soon. I feel my hands tighten around his waist, in desperation that I do not fall off this motorcycle. 

The universe must've heard my prayers as before I knew it, the pace slowed down and the gust of the wind slowed. The motorcycle stopped. I hesitatingly open my eyes to confirm that we have in fact stopped. 

Elvis put the brakes on and swung his legs off the motorcycle, standing up. This is when I briefly realise what he is wearing. A classic black leather jacket, with a black turtleneck underneath and black pants to match. He swiftly took off his helmet, shaking his head as he ran his fingers through his hair briefly. 

How is he so good-looking? 

It really is unbelievable. 

"You need help, doll?" He smirks, that annoying smirk of his. 

"Huh?"

"When you are done checking me out, I can give you hand off the motorcycle. If you'd like." He chuckles at me. 

 I feel immense heat rush up my cheeks. I am horrified.  Was I really staring at him for that long? Nova, get yourself together. 

"I - I wasn't, " I stammered in which he rose an eyebrow at me, "Oh, shut it. I can get off this fine."  I said before he approaches me. 

Frankly speaking, it does suck that I am shorter than him. Tall people really do have the advantage of a lot of things. For instance, getting off a motorcycle does not require taking multitudes of time trying to get your feet to reach the ground. A problem that I am encountering as of now. 

"Are you sur-" 

I cut him off with my hands up at him, "Yeah, I got th-"

My sentence is cut off by the imbalance of my body, as I feel my body met the ground. That f.ucking hurts. Ouch. 

I hear Elvis rush to me, "Nova? Are you okay?!" 

I feel him take the helmet off me as he places my head onto his lap. His hands gently cup my face, and its contact does not go unnoticed. His hands are cold, but nevertheless, the fact that his skin is in contact with mine - it leaves me breathless for a brief second. 

Wincing at the pain, I try to open my eyes and see his blue ones meet mine. His once carefree smirk is gone, and is replaced by a frown and concern swimming in his eyes. 

"You are so f.ucking lucky that I landed on grass and not concrete!" I scold at him, hitting his arm with my hand lightly. 

He is confused at first, but then releases a sigh of relief. He shakes his head at me, "Hey lady! Here I am checking if you are hurt and you. . ." He trails off, but a smile is slowly creeping up on his lips. 

"I'm real glad I found you, Nova." 

I squint my eyes at him, "Elvis, you keep saying that. But you won't tel-"

"We are going to need a band-aid for your knee." He confirms, as he rolls my jeans up slightly to check my leg.

--

Pastel colors of orange, pink and purple adorned the canvas of the sky. The gentle sound of the water harmonised perfectly with the breeze of the trees. I sighed in the tranquility, and leaned back on the wooden bench. 

"This is nice."

"Yeah, it is. It's the quiet that I think every person needs once in a while." Elvis says, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at the glistening sun's reflection on the lake. 

"Very true. Especially after falling off a motorcycle," I emphasised jokingly. 

He turns to me and puts his hand up in mock-surrender, "Honey, I offered to help and you declined." 

I rolled my eyes at this, "Fine. I'll give you that. But you better explain to me why were we on a motorcycle in the first place?" I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Didn't you say that you wanted to be a little more reckless, live a little?" 

"No, I didn't." 

But I did. Yes I definitely did. But I didn't verbalise it out loud. I said it in my mind when I blew out the candles at my birthday party. 

"Yeah, you did."

I don't argue with him any further and instead move on to a different question. 

"I have a question."

"Okay," He smiled, biting his bottom lip, "I'll answer it only on one condition." 

"What?"

"Trust me." 

"But-"

He moves closer to me, and holds my hands, "You and I both know that you wished to live more spontaneously. To be more open to new experiences and just live. I can help with that, and I promise you with all my heart that I won't let you get hurt, Nova. I know that there's that band-aid on your knee, but that is because of your own stubbornness."

My lips fail to stop the smile on my lips. 

"Okay, Elvis." 

He releases a sigh in relief, and he releases my hands. 

"I want to ask my first question now." 

"Go ahead." He smiles, although he is no longer holding onto my hands - he is still very much sat right next to me on this bench. There is literally no space between us. 

"How is this happening? I mean, how are you here again? I thought dreams are one-off. They don't continue like this." 

He shrugs, "I don't know, honey. I guess the boss up there owes me a favour." He points to the sky and chuckles. 

"Elvis!" I groaned, slightly annoyed. 

"Nova!" He grins. 

"Answer me seriously." I say. 

"I am, I swear."

I thought for a second. 

"Okay. How about this; I ask a question and you can only answer with one word." I say seriously, trying to decipher if he will agree to this. 

After a little back and forth, he finally agrees to this. It will give me a peace of mind. It has to. Because at the moment, this is not making any sense. Weren't dreams supposed to be different each time we dream? We don't continue of the last dream, don't we?

"Am I dreaming right now?" I take a deep breath, awaiting his answer. Although he kinda answered this before on our initial meeting, I want to ask him again. 

"Maybe."

He's playing safe. 

"Why are you in my dreams again?"

"Promise." 

I furrow my eyebrows at this. Promise? 

"What do you mean?"

"Uh-uh. Only one word, honey. remember?" He smirks. 

I sigh frustratedly and continue on, "Was your song playing on my way to lectures this morning. . . was that a coincidence?" 

"Nope." He shakes his head, more amused than ever at my confused features.

"Did you like the song by the way? It's not as known as my other songs. But it was a fun song from my movie called 'Live a little, love a little'." 

I freeze. He really-

"Are you real?" 

For the first time in this line of questions, Elvis simply nods and does not verbalise a response. 

"How do you know me?" I ask, and sense his body stiffen. There is that tension in his shoulders. 

"Let me rephrase that. . . who am I to you, Elvis?" I ask nervously. His features are etched with seriousness, and for a second I see a glimpse of an internal battle with himself. He opens his mouth to respond, but closes it once again. He looks away for a second and closes his eyes, exhaling. When he meets my eyes again, his eyes are red with the evidence of tears trying to break out.

I have never seen him cry in this short time I have known him so far, and I suddenly feel guilty for asking this. 

"Elvis. . ." 

I feel a tightness in my chest. 

"Nova. Please, please. . ." He bits his lip, holding back tears, "Please ask me something else." I notice that his hands are back in holding mine. But the hold is not gentle like before, this time it's like he is clutching my hands. Like when you are holding onto something to give you strength. 

I feel my throat dry. Suddenly, my mind is empty of any questions.

"Do you know how to swim?" I smile at him. 

He breathes a deep sigh of relief and chuckles, and I feel my chest become lighter to hear him chuckle. 

"Yeah."

"Good because I don't." I laugh. 

next chapter

Yours Truly - Chapter 6: The List

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.3k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. curse words, description of minor injury, gunshot.

|chapter index|prev|chapter 7

--

NOVA

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

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

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

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

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

 --

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

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

"Me too." 

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

Charlotte. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Wow, Nova." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our laughter dies down, eventually. 

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

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

I shake my head, "Not really." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's that?" I ask Luke. 

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

--

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

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

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

"What?" 

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

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

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

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

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

How? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello."

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

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

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

next

Yours Truly | Journal entry no. 1

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 491

・❥・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.

・❥・ Author's Notes: So this is a peek into what Nova is thinking at this point. This is a supplemental material to the on-going series 'Yours Truly' therefore, DO NOT read this unless you have read the between chapters 1-6.

|chapter index |prev|next

--

AN ENTRY FROM NOVA'S JOURNAL 

November 22 , 2022

Dear Journal, 

I know that despite buying this journal a while ago, I have never really written an entry in it. I've written quotes that I found from books and maybe my favorite songs. But I've never written a proper entry. I like to think that people write in their journals when something interesting happens in their life, and honestly-speaking, my life is not very interesting. 

But something happened. Suddenly. And I guess this is the point where I think it's only right for me to make this my first journal entry. 

On my 21st birthday, I made a promise to myself that I will try to take more chances. Which I know it a big statement for me. But I will try to do this. Luke and Charlotte helped me make a list. So in some way there is still order amongst the point of being spontaneous. 

I've been having dreams recently. Not normal ones I believe. I've been having consecutive dreams for the past week now. In my dreams, this man appears. He first appeared in my dreams on the night of my 21st. It gets crazier. I know that people dream about celebrities all the time, even more-so when people have a crush on a celebrity. But this is when it gets strange.

Elvis Presley appeared in my dream. And people can say that dreams don't make any sense anyways. But I never really thought about Elvis Presley. I mean, sure I watched the biopic of him when it was released during the summer and that was the first time I really learned about him. But for him to suddenly appear in my dreams? Consecutively? 

It gets crazier. 

Each time I wake up from these dreams, I remember everything. Every detail. Every conversation that I have with him in the dream. I am usually a person that looks for logic and scans a situation to know what's going on, but this makes me dumbfounded. 

Our conversations - they sound normal. like a normal conversation you would have in real life. But there is something more, something that I don't know. It's strange because Elvis, the way he acts, it's like he knows me. Certain details about myself and the way he is around me - it is like he has known me for so long. And I know that can easily be explained by how there is a part of the human brain that subconsciously generates personal dreams. 

But I just have this doubt inside of me. Something is going on, and it frustrates me to no end that I don't know what that something is. 

He says that he'll help me experience the things on my list, the goal of living life to the fullest. To try new things. So I'll try and focus on that instead.  

After all, dreams are just dreams. . . right?

Till next time journal. 

Nova. 

next

Yours Truly - Chapter 7: Bird's Eye View

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 1.5k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. heights.

|chapter index |prev | chapter 8

--

NOVA 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Open your eyes." 

"Not yet." 

"Then I can't answer your question." 

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

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

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

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

"Hi there." 

I feel my cheeks warm. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then what were you implying, doll?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

next chapter

Yours Truly - Chapter 8: The Great Gatsby

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.5k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. none.

|chapter index| prev |chapter 9

--

NOVA 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My eyes trace the words 'THE BEGINNING.' 

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

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

Okay. . . what is he getting at? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Any other questions?" 

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

"Luke," I urge, "What happened?" 

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

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

"Ah, shit."

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

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

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

"So you didn't go to the cafeteria?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I shrugged, "Maybe or maybe not." 

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

I don't even think braining is a word?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, Nova, open your eyes."

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

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

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

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

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

next chapter

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

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.8k

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

・❥・ Ratings & Warnings: SFW. a kiss perhaps?, vague elvis (as always), OC is confused.

chapter index | prev | chapter 10

--

NOVA

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

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

Luke throws his arms up dramatically, "Welcome!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke casually shrugs, as he places his goggles on. 

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

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

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

"We won't." Luke interrupts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll leave you to go sleep now, " 

"Good idea. Gosh, I'm so tired."  

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

"What?"

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

I chuckle at him, "Goodnight, Luke."

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

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

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

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

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

Where am I? 

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

Oh my god. Oh god. 

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

He seems to be humming a tune to himself. 

"Elvis?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I suddenly feel a little warm. Oh god. 

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

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

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

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

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

"But you made this for me? Despite-"

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

I hear a thump in my chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I raised my eyebrow at him, "Huh?"

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

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

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

I freeze at his words and feel my cheeks warm. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"To cross another one off your list."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What and Why is this happening to me?

next chapter

Yours Truly - Chapter 10: Girlfriend?

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 2.9k

・❥・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. self-conscious OC, fluff, a kiss, adorably oblivious OC.

chapter index| prev | next

--

NOVA

"Did you choose this dress?" I asked over the locked door, as I studied my reflection in the floor-length mirror. It was a cream white dress, with wildflower patterns adorning its entirety, the straps were tie-straps and the dress reached just a little above my knees. It was beautiful, and elevated the remembrance of summer days. The dress hugged my figured surprisingly, and I can only logically say that in dreams, of course a dress would fit perfectly. It is my dream, after all. 

"Yes and no." 

I roll my eyes at his response, of course. I take one final glance at the mirror and sigh. It is only natural to feel insecure, but its very existence loomed over me for majority of my teenage years. Being not 'conventionally beautiful' in a high school setting really does something to a young girl's self-esteem. I know now that outer appearance is not all that makes up a person, but it still does hurt when harsh words aim at something you were born with, it eats your soul. So, I guess even at the age of 21, webs of insecurity are still something I battle with. 

"You never give simple answers, do you?" 

Elvis chuckles, "I don't know what you mean. Are you done?"

"Give me a sec." 

I turn around and check my reflection in the mirror one last time. What if the dress is beautiful, but me wearing it destroys it? I purse my lips at the thought, but I don't really want to go back to wearing my pyjamas. What to do? 

"I can almost hear your mind running wild, doll. " He muses, his voice was closer to the door. 

Ok, breathe, Nova. Just get out there and if you look atrocious in the dress, you can always just blink your eyes and wake up from this dream. I try hard to tell myself. 

I take a deep breath. 

"Darlin, do you need help? I wouldn't want to be the shitty guy who's out here waiting when you are out there struggling-" 

I swing the door open, which cuts off his sentence. Elvis is leaning against the wall of the hallway, but he straightens to stand up suddenly. His familiar blue eyes gazed at me, slack-jawed. I take my hand off the door handle and take a cautious step towards him, my hands fiddling. His eyes trail from my legs up to my head, holding my gaze for what seems like an eternity. I hug myself, rubbing my arms consciously. 

What is he thinking?

"I, um. . . sorry I took so long." I finally say, the words seem to get stuck in my throat. My voice was unfamiliar to me, there was shake to my tone. This much attention, coupled with strong silence - I never know how to act. I don't think anyone else has looked at me like that, except for- well, I can't think about him right now. 

"No, no, don't be sorry. " Elvis says, shaking his head. He steps forward and takes both my hands in his, removing them from my self-conscious guarding. 

He breaks out into a smile, "You look beautiful, Nova." 

There's that thump again in my chest. Whenever he is within this close proximity to me, his scent encompasses my senses - that familiar cologne. I honestly do not know how all those woman in the past managed to contain themselves being this close to him. It's like a magnetic pull, an invisible rope that I know I can't fight against, or that I don't want to.

"Thank you." I softly say and looked down at my feet, "But I don't suppose I go wherever we are going wearing these house slippers, right?" I question, in hopes to cut the prevalent tension. 

Elvis laughs at this, as he bites on his bottom lip, "Nah, I don't think it helps your height." 

I gasp and hit his arm playfully, "Rude! Bye now, Presley. I'm off." I dramatically walk past him, but I am not fast enough as he catches my arm quickly. I then feel both of his arms wrap around my waist rapidly, his chest pressed firmly against my back. 

"No, honey, I'm sorry. I was only joking." He laughs, and I can feel his smile against my cheek. 

Oh god. He has never done this before, and this is a different level of closeness. Something you do when you know someone so intimately, and that thump in my chest beats far rapidly. I can almost feel it about to leap out my chest. But nevertheless, I feel my lips stretch out Into a smile, as I feel my face heating up. 

Our laughter dies down and we are once again met with silence.

"Please, don't leave me, Nova." He says this time, in whispers of desperation. So quiet that I almost didn't catch it. 

Is he afraid that I'll end this dream sooner than he wanted, and then he'll have to wait for me again the next time I close my eyes. 

"I won't." I softly say, tilting my head a little to the left to turn to him. 

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

I sit down in the passenger seat of his car, I am sat down sideways with the car door open and the right side of my body leaning against the back of the car seat. I glance down at him on his knees in front of me. 

"And you just so happen to have this in your car?" I asked him, referring to the pair of white heeled-sandals that are in his hands. 

"In case of emergency," He looks up at me and winks. 

"Elvis, you do know I can manage putting shoes on myself." I chuckle. 

"I know, darlin. But let me just do this for you, okay?" Elvis grins. 

I nod as I know there is no point in disagreeing, once he has his mind set on something he'll do it. 

His hands are soft and careful as he slips my feet into the pristine white heels. The contact of his hand against my skin doesn't go unnoticed by me, as I feel heat rush to my cheeks. He finishes putting the final strap on and suddenly leans down, planting a kiss on the area right next my ankle. 

I gasped, "Hey!" My cheeks are no doubt turning a bright shade of pink. 

"Sorry, couldn't help it." He looks up with that infamous smirk of his, not apologetic at all. 

"Well, thank you." 

"For the kiss?" He says mischievously. 

"No, not for the kiss, oh you are impossible." I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. 

I slip both my legs into the car into a comfortable position, as Elvis stands back up. He closes my car door and jogs around, quickly getting into the driver's seat. He starts up the car, and slips on his sunglasses. I stare in awe at the infamous musical gates of Graceland as we pass through them, "Who opened the gates?" I asked him, as he heads down the main road. 

"Consider it a magic trick," Elvis replies, briefly glancing at me before refocusing his eyes on the road. 

Both of the windows on either side are rolled down, perfectly welcoming the fresh breeze into the vehicle. The wind accompanied my hair, letting the strands dance wildly which I am sure I will have to fix later on. The sun hangs high in the dreamy blue sky, encapsulating scorching hot heat onto my skin.

"It's so warm for a December day, " I admit, it's definitely not the usual temperatures for a day in the supposedly Winter months. But I suppose in the land of dreams, nothing really Is logical. 

Elvis chuckles, "I ain't complaining, just embrace the change." 

"Neither am I. It's good." 

Although the gust of wind is continuous as Elvis speeds through the roads, the scorching heat of the sun still permeates my skin. I have the right clothing on and the right shoes, so it's just my thick, long hair not really helping the situation. 

"Damn it, why don't I have a hair tie?" I mutter to myself, instinctively looking down at my wrist as I pull my hair up in a ponytail. I purse my lips in thought, what can I use to tie my hair up? I pause on my train of thought as I feel his gaze on me in my peripheral vision. I turn my head to look at him, and see his eyes flicker briefly to my exposed neck - his sunglasses are half-tinted blue, making his gaze much more prevalent compared to normal fully-tinted ones. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for something to tie my hair." I find myself explaining, and he simply nods and refocuses his attention back on the road. His jaw is noticeably tensed, with his bottom lip between his teeth. I wonder if he's deep in thought about something. 

He mutters something under his breath, and I think it's along the lines of "Lord, have mercy." He pushes back his hair with his one hand that's not on the steering wheel.

"Elvis, are you okay?" I ask.

Elvis clears his throat, "Yeah, yeah. 'Course I'm good." 

"Okay, I just wanted to makes sure you weren't in pain or something." I chuckled, smiling at him. 

He shakes his head, "In pain? Now, why would I be in pain?" 

"Nothing." I shrugged, "It's just you looked a little tense there for a second."

He lets out a chuckle and gives me a wink, "There's nothing to worry about, darlin', trust me." 

Before I could spark a new subject of conversation, the car comes to halt as Elvis switches the engine off. I observe where he parked, which is in the middle of a vast landscape. He has basically parked on grass. 

"We are here." He states. 

"Um. . . this is the middle of nowhere." I say, as a matter-of-factly.

Elvis gets out of the car and quickly opens my car door for me, with his hand outstretched. I gratefully take it, "Thank you."

He shuts the car door, locks the car - all without letting go of my hand. 

"Are we going to have a picnic? Do you have a picnic basket? I mean, there's literally nothing here. But it is the perfect weather to have a picnic, for sure. Or are we going to play football? or any other sports? Elvis, I'm terrible at sports, I can't cop-"

He cuts off my nervous ramblings with a laugh as he turns his body to face me completely, "Breathe, baby. Breathe. I'm with you, okay?" His thumb gently grazes my cheek, before returning his hand into tightly intertwining with mine. 

baby. 

I feel my pulse quicken, my heart hammering ruthlessly against my chest. And something tells me it's not because of the unknown, but because of him. His way of being so affectionate, gentle, and- I should really stop thinking about it. I can't hold onto this thought any longer. Elvis is a charmer, I mean, I guess he is like that with everyone. It is only natural for him to be so, so. . . close. 

I slowly nod after taking a deep breath. His lips spread into a smile, as he tugs me along with him. We walk down hill a little and not long after, I hear the sound of excited chatter and music booming from speakers fill my ears. We keep on walking, until we find the source of all the sound. There, in the middle of the vast empty grass, was a walkway leading up what looked like two giant light tan-coloured tents that are combined together. As we walk closer, the tents seemed to be held up by numerous solid wooden poles. I immediately stop walking, as my eyes widen in realisation on where we are going, "A party?" I turned to Elvis to confirm my guess. 

"Hmm, not exactly." 

"What do you mean?" 

Elvis ignores my question and tugs me along with him. We keep on walking down the pathway until we are at the very opening in the middle of the two tents. The music and the chatter grow louder and louder, until we are right inside of the tent. Fairy lights dazzle my vision, framing the entirety of the main entrance and the large inner space. Numerous rustic tables adorned the space, with around eight or so people on each table. At the very middle of the it all is a mirrorball. A simple stage is at the very front of all the tables, and a bar to the far left. What seems to be hundreds and hundreds of people occupy the space, all adorned in such formal clothing. But what catches my eye is the three-layer cake on the long table beside the stage, "This is. . . stunning. It's a wedding reception."

Elvis nods. 

"This was not on my list." I say, challenging him. 

"Are you sure 'bout that, Nova?" He grins mischievously. 

Oh no. What now?

Suddenly, a man dressed in security uniform approaches us rapidly. His eyes are narrowed at us, with a clipboard in his hand. 

"I didn't see you both at the entrance. Names?" He questions, suspicion evident in his tone. 

Well, shit. Did I see Elvis take in invitations? I don't think he had any invitations in his hand when we left Graceland. 

"I'm Aaron and this is Katerina." Elvis confidently says, smirking at me. 

First off all, how does he know my middle name? Well, I mean, I know his but that's not the point. 

The guard flips through the pages of his clipboard and shakes his head, "Neither of you are on the list, which means you have both just broken into a private event." 

Oh shit. 

I pull Elvis' arm and frantically whisper into his ear in a panic, "Elvis, this is not good. This is really not good." 

"I've got this, doll." He whispers back calmly with a smirk. 

Elvis turns back to the man, "You see. . . Gregory is it?" He asks, briefly glancing at the name tag on the guard's uniform, in which the man firmly nods. 

"Gregory. Listen, pal, " He steps forward and places a hand on the man's shoulder, he then leans down and whispers something to him as he gestures to me. 

Damn it. What is he saying? 

The guard, Gregory, his face goes a deep shade of red as his eyes widen at me. Elvis leans back and returns to stand next to me, intertwining our fingers. 

"Now you see why, Gregory?" Elvis dramatically sighs, in fake sadness. 

The man nods his head and sputters out a string of apologies, "I-uh. . . of course! Silly me. I apologise to you and your girlfriend. I am so sorry for the trouble." 

"It's all good, man. " Elvis smiles brightly, as Gregory walks away very quickly. 

My mouth is hung wide open in shock and surprise, I turn to Elvis with my eyebrow arched at him in confusion. 

"Girlfriend?! What on earth did you tell the him? You frightened the poor guy to death." 

Elvis simply laughs at my reaction and tugs me along with him, "I'm afraid I can't spill my secrets, baby."

There he goes again with the pet names. 

"No, I want to know!" I pout at him. 

He hums, "Maybe another time. Let's crash a wedding first?" He questions, smirking at me.

I roll my eyes and chuckle, "Fine. But this is not the end, E.P." 

"Wouldn't dream of it, Nova."

next

Yours Truly - Journal entry no. 2

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 468

・❥・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. This is supplemental material to the on-going series 'Yours Truly' please DO NOT read this if you have not read the previous chapters 1 to 10.

chapter index | prev | chapter 11

--

AN ENTRY FROM NOVA'S JOURNAL 

December 9, 2022 

Dear journal, 

Well, I suppose here we are with the second entry. I thought it was about time I gather my thoughts somewhere, on what has happened in my life so far. 

First and foremost, he is still appearing in my dreams. There has never been one single night that he hasn't. Just last night. . . he helped me cross another item off my list - crashing a party. or a wedding reception, more like. I just can't explain how I can always remember every detail. It's not like a snapshot of a blur of photos. No it's more than that. 

I remember our conversations. every single word. And how each one is said. I remember how he smiles or gives me that mischievous grin of his. I remember the way the sun touches my skin and the chatter of people and the music and his sneaky kisses. 

All of it puzzles my mind. 

I do know that I can't tell Luke or Charlotte about any of this. They are my good friends, but this is beyond the level of being comprehensible. Heck, even I would give them a look if one of them told me something like this was happening to them. It does not sound remotely logical. It does not sound very. . .Nova. 

But there are a few things that I am sure, that I am certain of. I while ago I asked him if he was real and he nodded. There is a chance he's real. He mentioned at our first meeting on the train that he is aware that he died. Then that could only mean that he is a ghost appearing to me from the afterlife? That is the only logical answer I could pinpoint. Even coming to terms with that, it clutches at my heart, an indescribable feeling I can't quite comprehend. Overwhelmed and painful. I don't know. 

But if he is appearing to me from the afterlife. . . why won't he give me clear, straight answers? 

He even said that when his song came on the radio- that was his doing. But the one thing that nags at me a little is the band-aid on my knee, from when I fell off his motorcycle. . . in the dream. The dream. Last time I checked, whatever happens in dreams do not transfer to the real world. This one still really makes my head spin. 

I do enjoy his presence - it bewilders and excites me. 

But it still does leave me with the question. . .

Elvis why are you helping me? How do you know me?  Why and how do you know all these details about me?

Till next time journal. I do hope next time I'll have more answers. 

Nova. 

next

Yours Truly - Chapter 11: If I Whisper

・❥・Pairing: Elvis Presley x original female character

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

・❥・Word Count: 7.5k (sorry!)

・❥・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. very angsty, but a lot of fluff too. But mostly angst.

chapter index | prev | chapter 12

--

"That guy with tears in his eyes and ghosts in his heart. He loved her, and you could see it." - Jamie Tworkowski 

--

NOVA

Our footsteps brushed against the sidewalk, effectively resounding into the quietness of the desolate street. Boutiques, stores, and diners all wore the similar 'WE ARE CLOSED' sign on their doors. Unattended vehicles were fairly scattered, sitting empty along the curb. The night sky was void of the earlier presence of the sun, and in its place was the glow of the moon accompanied by the blanket of what I could only guess was an infinite of stars. To aid in fighting the inevitable darkness of nature,  street lamps echoed circular bursts of light. One of which reflected perfectly on the man beside me, and I find myself gasping quietly. The blend of the natural and the artificial forms of light elevated his appearance. It may seem cliche to think, but I truly cannot believe how unreal he looks. 

No wonder all those people have emphasised how even more gorgeous he was in real life, and how photos simply did not do him justice. I understand the chaos now, a chaos with reason. It makes me want to snap a photo of him, a way to mark a moment forever before it slips through my fingers like leaves in the wind. Not only because of his outer beauty, but this odd setting he is in. Someone such as himself, you see him in many photos always surrounded by a mass crowd of people. Always. Even in photos when it's only him alone - no, this is different. The Elvis that I see beside me is in such an open space, walking freely  and it's so quiet, so unusual, so human. 

But snapping a photo only holds possible in the real world, not in the dream world. 

I attempt to shake myself out of my reverie, but it seems as if he has caught me and not even a second later, his lips quirk up into a smirk as he fully faces me now. 

"Doll?" He says, a petname that so effortlessly rolls off his tongue, and my mind openly welcomes. 

"I-I'm sorry. . .  what were you saying?" I sputter out, hardly saving myself from his inevitable teasing response that I know he is bound to say.

He chuckles and shakes his head, "Am I boring you already, honey?" He teases. 

In previous encounters with him, I would be apologising right away. But now I know him slightly better, I have become accustomed with Elvis' playful attitude. A direct contrast from the seriousness that I wear all the time. 

I choose to play along and frantically nod, "Oh no, you've caught me, Aaron." I say, purposely dramatising my tone. 

Elvis draws out a long, exaggerated sigh, "I guess I'll call a taxi and we say our farewells, Katerina."  He looks down, giving the performance of a lifetime. 

"Such a shame, the dance moves at the reception was a showstopper." I mused. 

He slowly lifts his head back up and gazes at me, those deep blue eyes never failing to make me loose my balance just the slightest bit. He mirrors the smile spreading across my lips and shakes his head again, an unmistakable shade of red coloring his face. I couldn't help myself, and laughter escapes me inevitably.

Elvis groans, as he closes his eyes in embarrassment, "Aw, hell. Don't remind me!"

"Why not? You looked so cute." 

As per any wedding reception, there is always the part where everyone stands up and go to the dance floor. Surprisingly, when others ushered Elvis to dance, I saw that hesitation in him and how quickly he declined the offer. Well, he couldn't entirely escape it and found himself joining in after all, but his body was almost awkward. I did find myself laughing at how adorable he looked, as he seemed to be mumbling something to himself the entire time - probably disbelief in himself that he is in that situation. 

He opens his eyes and gazes me for a second, and not long after releasing a laughter of his own. 

"I'm glad that you find joy in my misery," He says, the lightness in his tone proving that he is only joking. 

I shake my head with an involuntarily smile pulling on my lips, "Your words, not mine." I throw many hands up in defence. Although it is only lighthearted joking around, I cannot help but recall his initial reaction when I brought it up. I don't want to loose myself in another train of thoughts, another one in which that I know he'll surely snap me out of. I seem to always find myself zoning out, and I've done it an embarrassing number of times already - I don't want him to think that I'm not paying attention to him. Zoning out and being too in my head, it's such a bad habit of mine, one that I know I'll definitely need to break. 

So, I let my curiosity slip out my brain and into our topic of conversation.

"No, but really. I just didn't expect to see you like that at all." I admit, attempting to phrase my words out in a clear way, slightly hoping that he catches what I'm trying to say. 

Elvis tilts his head and glances briefly at me, "Like what, doll?" His voice purely confused at my words. 

"So hesitant to dance. I mean, from the videos I've seen of you performing. . . you always looked so confident and in your element. " I explain further, noticing myself use my hands to emphasise my words. Another habit of mine - I tend to talk with my hands, as if I'm in a theatrical piece, whereby every bit of dialogue involves gestures.

He sighs and for a moment I regret my words, but a small, shy smile appears on his face which eases my worries. 

"When I'm on stage as Elvis Presley, my body can feel the music and just move. B-But me just as me, getting up to dance . . . I-It ain't easy." He shakes his head, his words slow and a slight stutter that I've never heard before from him. His azure eyes look into me, as if silently searching for assurance that I'm listening, as if there is a time limit hanging above my head indicating my patience. A patience that I truly know is insurmountable when it comes to him. It's the veins of curiosity that twists itself so easily around the human nature of: yes, I am listening, and I want to hear more about you. Please keep talking. 

To my relief, he continues. 

"I-I was a pretty shy kid. . . never sang in front of an audience, or anyone before that day I decided to. Never the popular one in school." His forehead knots, and I can almost see his brain reaching through the files of memories past. I don't fail to notice that for each word that he utters out of his mouth, his eyes would flicker briefly to my face and then he would continue. 

I find myself gaping in disbelief as his confession, "Shy?" 

He nods and chuckles, as he scratches the nape of his neck. 

"That hard to believe, huh?" He says. 

I nod, "Honestly, yeah. At first glance of your performances, no one would think that you are a shy. How did you break out of your shell?"

"I did for my mama. She believe in my singing and I always believed her. I took my best shot with it, and found it helped with getting my family out of poverty. It was all for them." He says, his voice quieter now, a softer tone. A tone that was such a shift from the confident and playful man that shows himself to me these past few encounters. Instead, with Elvis' eyes casted off into a distance, his tone is a glimpse of that little boy who wanted to help his family. The little boy who found a passion in music. The little boy who dreamed. 

A pinch into my heart was evident. So selfless to take on such a huge responsibility at such a young age, and by his choice as well. He has always been a kind soul, and I'm grateful that the movie explored the humanity of him. . . but I wished they explored more of this. 

"I'm happy you took the step. Your voice. . . the world deserved to hear it, and I'm glad that in exchange, you've got to help your family have a better life." I say, and refrain myself from saying but you also deserved to live longer. 

Elvis faces me now, and I realise that we've stopped walking. We stand still, facing each other and the light from the street lamp reflects on his features so perfectly. His high cheekbones so prominent, along with the sharp jawline.  The Elvis before me is his appearance from the late '60s I would say. It's strange, in each dream that I have, he is there. But it's always different versions of him. So far, it's been mostly '50s Elvis and now lately, it's been '60s Elvis. But then again, why would I question this when the entire situation is even more of a question mark itself.  

Elvis smiles, "Yeah, It made me real happy to do that for them. Thank you for listening, Nova." He says softly, sincerity echoes through his face. Both of his hands reach out and clasped into mine. I smile at him, as I find myself gently squeezing his hands in reassurance. 

A strong gust of wind fills the surroundings, its effect not going unnoticed by my bare arms. I shiver instinctively. Elvis quickly notices this, and takes his suit jacket off without a moment's hesitation, carefully draping it around my shoulders. I loop my arms into the sleeves, although it probably looks a little big on me.I feel my cheeks heat up at his close proximity, the scent of his cologne evade my senses strongly. 

"Thanks." I manage to say, in a quiet voice. 

"What kind of guy would I be if I let my girl freeze in this cold?" He grinned. 

My girl. 

I hear a distant sound of chimming and it happens again. I furrow my eyebrows, racking my brain to decipher what that could be. I look around our surroundings quizzically. 

I know now. It's almost like a sound of a clock chime. 

"Did you hear that?" I ask him. 

Elvis' eyes widen slightly in what I can understand must be him thinking if there is any danger lurking by. He clears his throat and takes my right hand in his left, tucking both of our hands into his pocket. His body faces forward, the way it was when we were walking. 

"I-It's getting colder, let's go." He simply says, his eyes removed from my gaze. 

Before I could say anything else, he is hurried in his walking as he tugs me along with him. 

"It sounded like a clock chime," I say, as his walk picks up in speed and turns into a run. I try to keep up with him, his hand tightly holding onto mine. 

I'm unsure if he heard me. 

--

It seems I have been proven wrong. Every other building on the street is closed, except for one. It just happens to be Miss Esther's cafe. It doesn't go unnoticed by me that there is no one else in the cafe, and why would there be really? it seems so late into the night, which does beg the question on why keep a cafe open at this hour? Such an odd thing my brain is creating for this dream. 

Well, no one but Miss Esther herself who welcomed us with open arms. Literally. The friendly lady was quick on her feet to draw us both in a tight hug, and an enthusiastic smile upon seeing us both again. We both order hot cups of coffee, which brings us to the moment that we are right now. Elvis and I sat at a table right in the corner, which is safe to say the best choice as the warmth of the place quickly dissipated the cold temperatures of the outside. Unlike the previous time, the lights of the cafe were dimmed - a true indication that it is in fact the night hours. 

"Thank goodness for this place, it got so cold so quickly." I say, as I take a sip from the mug of the hot beverage in my hands. It's taste and warmth, perfectly melting into my throat. 

Elvis nods, "I second that."

Elvis places his coffee mug down and leans forward, "Another one crossed off your list? How are you feeling, baby?" He grins, that familiar southern drawl in his voice. 

baby. 

To save myself from dwelling on his close proximity, I attempt to subtly lean back against my chair to answer his question. Although the crashing of the wedding reception happened in my previous dream, it still astounds me to no end that I truly did that. At the start of this dream, I found myself walking with Elvis. Both of us still wearing the attire that we wore for the wedding reception. After waking up from the previous dream, my mind cannot help but replay how even in the crowded room full of people at the reception, his attention was on me and he kept asking me if I was okay. Yes, he pushes me to be braver, to try the unknown. But at the same time, he knows how set I am in my ways and reads me so well - easily seeing if I'm overwhelmed or not. 

"It said 'party' on my list. Not wedding." I smile playfully, "But either way, it was something I've never done before. It was fun. . . surprisingly." 

"See? It ain't so bad to cross the lines sometimes, Katerina." He muses, grinning at me. 

There he goes again with my middle name. 

"That's true. But I won't be crashing another wedding in the future." I chuckle with a shake of my head, as I prop my elbow on the table with my chin resting on my hand. 

"Fair enough, honey. Some things in life, you only need to do once. Just to make you feel. . . a little crazy. We all need that feeling sometimes." His voice is quieter now, almost to the level of a whisper, as he smiles at me. 

"Thank you for helping me." I say, almost feeling the words hard to get out of my mouth. It's strange, whenever he is so close to me and his voice is that gentle and quiet. It's so attentive and  I feel that he is looking through me, like a pristinely transparent glass. As if to silently say with his eyes: Of course, I'm listening to you too.

He takes my left hand and plants a kiss on the top, all the while maintaining his piercing eye contact with me. 

"I'll find a way. Always." 

Such a small sentence, not even ten words and yet, my brain desperately clutches onto his words. A brief string of words that feel like they are spinning around in a carousel in my mind, and ultimately melting into the depths of my heart. And I guess, for once in my life, I have a feeling that the latter wins the key of keeping it close. 

"Tell me something. . ." I begin after a while of silence. 

He nods. Elvis absentmindedly draws invisible circles around the palm of my left hand, which does tickle a little, and soothes me at the same time. 

"How do you know my middle name? It left me speechless when you dropped that out of nowhere." I chuckle. 

There is a twinkle in his eye as he chuckles, "Lucky guess." 

I roll my eyes as I shoot him a smile, "Of course. No one calls me by my middle name." 

"Did you know that my middle name is Aaron?" He asks, clearly rhetorically. 

"Yes. But that's not the same thing." I lean back against the chair again, feeling a little tired. But nonetheless, wanting to keep talking to him. 

"How is it not?" He muses, clearly enjoying this. 

"Everyone knows you. Well, knows your name." 

He ignores my response and simply says, "Katerina is a very sexy name, I'll say." 

Never have I ever heard my name pronounced like. . . that before. He said it a few times now, but this time, I feel he intentionally says it in such a. . .  certain way. The way that my name rolls of his tongue in such a way - it makes my cheeks heat up involuntarily. 

I clear my throat and try to avoid his eyes, "Thanks. Aaron is a cool name too."

He laughs at my flustered expression, clapping his hands. 

"Oh my, I hear a lot of laughter. I do hope that he is not annoying you, sweet Nova." Miss Esther appears, walking closer to us with her hands on her hips. 

"I haven't done nothing wrong, Ma'am. " Elvis shakes his head, joking along. 

Miss Esther narrows her eyes at him, but with a smile on her face, "Hmm. You better not do. I need your help, I can't seem to reach the box from the highest shelf in the kitchen. " She explains.

Elvis doesn't hesitate to stand up, "Okay." 

Miss Esther smiles and pats him on the shoulder, "Thank you, sweetheart. " 

Elvis turns back to me, "Honey, will you be alright here while I go help Miss Esther?" 

I nod, "I'll be fine, go." 

"Besides, you'll be doing all the work whilst I take a seat right here and hang out with Nova." Miss Esther chuckles at him, easily taking the seat across from me. 

"Alright, no bad tales about me Miss Esther." He jokes, and I feel that he wanted to say something more but he stops himself. Instead, he confirms to Miss Esther about which box it is, and makes his way into the kitchen. 

"It's nice to see hear him laugh and smile, dear." She says. 

"Yeah, he loves to joke a lot and teases me all the time. He's a complete contrast to how I am." I shake my head, chuckling.

"I'm afraid I haven't been clear with my words," Miss Esther replies, smiling apologetically at me. 

I tilt my head, "What do you mean, Miss Esther?"

She sighs,"Elvis is a nice boy. But from the moment I met him, the boy was anything but a jokester. Determined, yes. But very down. It made me worry an awful lot from time to time." 

Of course, from my knowledge from the movie, Elvis' life was filled with it's fair share of trails tribulations - but I thought that coming into the afterlife, a sense of peace would replace such a heartbreaking emotion. Well, that is if he is from the afterlife. If my theory is correct, then Elvis is from the afterlife and is visiting my dreams. This is the only plausible explanation. . . right?

"Down?" 

Miss Esther nods in confirmation, "Very. But ever since. . . you. . .  I have never seen him so much as frown no longer. It's a good change. You are good together. " Her voice is warm and sincere, a bright smile on her face. 

I offer her a kind smile back.

A thought enters my mind. Should I or should I not?

"Miss Esther, can I ask you something?" 

She nods, "Yes, of course."

"When we first met you told me something. You told me that Elvis was looking for me, and you thought that he told me about that. But he's difficult with answering questions. So secretive. I. .  I guess I just want to know what you meant by that?" I find myself lowering my voice, fiddling my  fingers nervously. 

I see a flash of hesitation in her eyes and she sighs deeply, "I'm afraid I can't help you with that, sweetheart. I'm sorry. My answers will not offer you anything helpful."

"Please, just anything." I plead, "I-I've been having these dreams back to back, every night. They continue on one after the other and I just want to know why."

She sighs,"Sometimes good things are not as simple. It is not the simple case of why and how, but trust me answers will come to you when the time is right. Okay?" She says, putting a delicate finger underneath my chin as she smiles. 

I feel defeated by her response, but I can feel that she is genuine with her words. 

Instead, I sigh and whisper back, "Okay."

Before any further conversation can continue, Elvis returns and tells Miss Esther that the box is now on the kitchen counter. He inquires on what our topic of conversation was, in which Miss Esther replies that we've been talking about her secret recipes. I am grateful that she didn't reveal our true conversation to Elvis. But her words will ring a little longer in my brain. She is essentially saying to just go with the flow of things. But the rational part of my being is desperately screaming out against such a relaxed perspective. I've never been rollerblading toward letting happenstance being what it is. There is always a reason for everything that happens, and if it can be helped - I'd like to know that reason. But I suppose this time around, life is closing its doors to my logical tendencies and throwing the key away. 

My eyes cannot help but glance at the black and white photographs of Hollywood actors, presumably from the '50s and '60s, adorning one wall of the cafe. A few I can easily recognised and others not so much. 

"I like what they did with the wall." I comment. 

Elvis smiles, "I do too. The best of the best on there."

"Who's your favorite?" I asked, nodding to the wall of photographs. 

I have a sense that I know his answer before he says it, well, in the movie Elvis mentions his admiration for James Dean a few times and how he wished to be as great as him in acting.

His eyes wander around and stay fixated to a photograph of James Dean, "A real great actor. It's shame he died so young. " Elvis shakes his head, "I remember starting out in Hollywood, wishing and hoping that I'd become a serious actor like him. I wanted to do good movies that told a really good story. Script after script, I-I knew then that my hope was impossible. I fell sick, mentally and violently ill from all that. . ." He looks at me now, shaking his head and blue eyes watery now. 

I frown, "Oh, Elvis." 

"Thirty-one movies later and I knew that this folks in town laughed at me. 'Course I knew. I-I just wanted to make one good picture I could be proud of, before I went." His words breathe harder into the air now, as he closes his eyes shut and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. 

It pains me to see that even now, those wounds still remain fresh to him. A whole decade of his life was dedicated to movies. It's such a shame that people did not see his passion, that did not help him reach his potential. It's that battle with creativity, a hunger to express himself and others around him did not see him like that. They made their decisions about him before they even knew him. It's a treacherous feeling that seeps into me, and I find myself biting down on my lip - feeling like tears might escape me. 

He opens his eyes and chuckles bitterly, "I was a joke." 

I find myself leaning forward and taking his hand into mine, "Hey, don't be saying that about yourself. I'm sorry that you didn't get what you deserve because you deserved so much more, Elvis. You had so much more to offer to the table and I wished people saw that. . . saw you."

He is silent for a moment and takes a deep breath, "Thank you, Nova. It matters a whole lot that you see me."

A smile slowly pulls on his lips as I smile at him, hoping to lift up the mood. 

"Why don't you ask me?" I say, arching a teasing eyebrow. 

"Ask about what?" He looks at me confused.

"Who my favorite actor is?" I muse. 

Elvis chuckles suddenly, as if I just dropped an inside joke.

"I don't need to, doll. I have a feeling that I already know." He smirks, confidence oozing from him. 

"Fine, go on then." I entertain his confidence.

"Grace Kelly." He replies casually, not a hint of doubt in his voice. 

I gasped in shock, "How'd you know that?" 

Another one of the many things that he knows about me. I should not be surprised anymore at this point, but I can't help but be every time he so casually slips information about me. Information that is so personal, that only my family and closest friends would know about. But I guess in dreams anything is possible, no matter how cliche it may sound. But then again, if he is visiting from the afterlife, then that means he is real which then furthers the question on how he knows all of this about me? 

Elvis casually shrugged with a smirk, "Lucky guess, honey." 

"Uh-huh, sure." I say, obviously unconvinced. 

Elvis is about to say something more, but he stops himself. He turns around and looks out the wide glass window of the cafe. I follow his gaze and it seems to the that the cold temperatures have now been accompanied by heavy showers. Droplets of water cascade rapidly down the glass, it's sound unmistakable. The clouds above seem to be releasing an increase of the torrent rain, as the violent downpour continues on - until you could quite literally hear it hitting the roof of the cafe. 

"Come on, let's go." Elvis says, turning back to me as he stands up. 

I find myself standing up, "Go where?" I ask, quite a rhetorical question I believe. 

Elvis only shoots me a mischievous grin, confirming my suspicion. 

My eyes go wide as I attempt to tug myself out of his hold, "Oh no. Nope. "

"Why not?"

I gestured at the outside, "Are you seriously asking me that? It's horrific." 

"It won't last long." 

"What if I get sick?" I reason out, panicking now. 

But of course my rational nature does not pair up with his way of spontaneity, "Then I guess I'll have to take of ya. You know, Dr. Presley." He winks. 

"Elvis, I'm seriou-"

"Remember your list?" He tries again, he takes off his suit jacket from around my shoulders and places it neatly on the table. 

And this time, I cannot counter back because I know he's right. I stupidly wrote on my list that I wanted to experience what it was like to just go crazy and have fun in the pouring rain. Like the ones you see in the movies, those cliche scenes. 

I sigh and finally nod, he grins in triumph and tugs me along with him as we rapidly run out of the cafe. The moment we step foot outside, the strong rainfall hits my bare arms and I see Elvis turn around to face me and lets go of my hand. He closes his eyes shut and spreads his arms wide, the rapid precipitation hitting his entire being and he looks perfectly blissful. His yellow button-up gets stuck to his tanned skin in a matter of seconds, and I look down to find my dress heavily sticking to my skin too. 

Elvis laughs out loud, his laugh encompassing the entire empty street.

"Ain't it incredible? Come here, darlin." He walks forward and grabs hold of my hand. 

"This is crazy!" I exclaim, but find my lips spreading into a huge smile. 

He suddenly grabs hold of my waist and spins me around, with him standing right behind me. I feel my chest thumping rapidly, and he levels his head close to mine - his lips almost touching my ear. I can feel his breath tickling my skin, as he whisper, "Don't think, Nova. Let yourself go." 

In dreams, anything can change in a split second. Who knows, this torrential rain might stop all of the sudden within the next few seconds. Nova, you promise to let yourself live. To just be. Stay true to that. And so with a deep breath and close my eyes, I find myself turning around out of his grasped and my legs run rapidly. I only run within the small space, and the water hits my face as I find myself spinning all of a sudden. Like a poorly, non-choreographed ballet recital. But I know that this is not a stage, this is just a dream. In this dream - no one else is here but me and him. No one else is watching. It's only me, him and the pouring rain. I find myself laughing and about nothing really, nothing in particular. But it's such an. . . elevated feeling. To laugh just because. With no particular reason to. 

It feels oddly. . . liberating. 

I try to open my eyes and see him right in front of me with the familiar grin on his lips, and he takes my hand this time - twilling me around before his right hand plants itself on my waist, and his left holds up mine. I naturally place my other hand on his shoulder. He takes another step forward, our noses almost touching, "Dance with me," He says, almost breathlessly. 

I am amused at his question, "Oh, really? I thought you didn't dance unless you were on stage." 

"I didn't. But I know that I am me right now. I'm me when I'm with you." He says softly. 

And my mind flickers back to our conversation earlier about how he hesitates to dance when he is not 'The Elvis Presley' because of embarrassment, but he is willing to dance with me. He's letting go. Just like me. For the brief moment of not thinking. 

"Okay." I respond, gladly accepting his request.

And so, we began to dance together. There was certainly no music, but that did not stop us to fall within each other's movements. I picture it like a normal dance of the waltz, expect this is anything but the appropriate setting and it's full of imperfect steps. But I pay no mind to that. Our feet shuffled in sync as we danced in a slow pace, as he spun in me in circles. But the downpour grew stronger, and with that, our dance quickened in its paced. His grip was firm on my hand, as well as on my waist. We both laughed at our imperfect version of the waltz.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, after a while of dancing. 

I nod. 

He then lifts me up slowly and I laugh, he sets me back down again. I find myself naturally looping my arms around his neck. Both of his hand are now on my waist, and I feel a little warm all of a sudden despite the cold temperatures. He pulls me closer to his body, and his height towers me a little. I take my time to study him in this happenstance. His dark hair sticks to his forehead now, droplets falling from strands. His eyes, piercing as ever and the grin on his lips releasing a melodic laugh. He is beautiful and it's suddenly hard to catch my breath. 

"I guess the rain is not stopping, I look like a mess." I shake my head, suddenly embarrassed on what I may look like. I know my hair is soaked and no doubt, there is no more makeup on my face. 

Elvis raises his hand, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"I doubt it." 

"I don't think so. A drowned rat might be a bette-" I attempt to joke. 

He cuts me off, "You are the most beautiful person I know." 

I narrow my eyes at him, "Really? I bet you tell all girls that."

"This is the only time I mean what I say." He explains, and I try to wait for him to break out into a chuckle to say he is joking. But nothing like that. Elvis presses his forehead against mine, and I breathe deeply.  Never in my life have I felt my heart thump so rapidly against my chest. I have felt all emotions most of my life: excitement and nervousness and anxiety. All of which result in my heart beating in an insane speed, as if it's about to leap out from my body. But this type of racing I feel cannot be categorised like those. The type of beating feels like it's running down to other parts of my being. It's an overwhelming feeling, a type of energy that feels like it's slipping through my hands and holding my face, and weakening my knees. It's fast and almost a slight pain. A feeling that drives me speechless and makes me welcome the rope of curiosity. 

Is this the feeling of just doing and not doing? The feeling of letting things flow? Of being. . . free from my mind?

"I-I feel my heart beating wildly," I admit to him, almost breathless. 

"That means it's working." Elvis smiles. 

"What is?"

"To be unexpected. To run into the unknown. That is how I want you to feel all the time." He emphasises, and he is so close to me. So incredibly close. 

"Thank you." 

Silence hits us again, the only sound is the rain around us. Rainfall that seems to have slowed down, but evidence of puddles created. 

I see his eyes flicker to my lips, as we both just look at each other. And you know how people say that if two people truly know each other, words won't be necessary at all. That sometimes, a single look is enough to convey a message. The eyes can often reflect the words unspoken. Or so I've been told by my grandmother. 

Elvis begins to lean in and I am not clueless, but to my surprise he leaves a brief kiss on the side on the very corner of my lips. Close, but not directly. It lingers there for a while, leading to blush creep into my cheeks. 

"You've been asking me questions, let's reverse the roles." He begins, in which I quirk an eyebrow at him. 

"You've seen both sides of me. Who do you see right now?" He asks, voice so soft and gentle. 

I know what he is asking. Earlier in our conversation, he revealed that the Elvis Presley on stage differs greatly from the actual person offstage. I cannot even imagine feeling almost like you are switching between two identities, two personas, two parts of you. But the other part seeming to encompass and overshadow the human being. I know that Elvis loves performing, and you can hear and see it in numerous videos. There is something so hypnotising and magnetic about seeing him in his element. But I have a feeling that it felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders at one point, as they said before, the brighter the light the darker the shadow. 

The one that is before me right now, I see him simply as. . . Elvis. 

"You. I see you." I say, and I know that he understands my words. 

Elvis smiles in relief and he begins to say something. 

"I-"

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

A buzzing sound screeches through my ears, rapidly leaving me no choice but to open my eyes. I scan my surroundings, and sigh in disappointment that I am in fact in my bedroom. Beams of sunlight pass through my bedroom window, signifying that morning is here. The buzzing sound continues, and I slam the alarm clock situated on my bedside table in annoyance. I hold my hand to my heart, frantically calming my heart. 

No. I can't be here right now. 

No. Not when I didn't hear what he had to say. 

But this is the reality. The reality of the vehicles outside on the streets and people chattering - not an empty and quiet street. The reality of favourable, warm weather seeping into my bedroom - not the gloomy, wet weather that I found myself enjoying and dancing in. The reality that here I am, alone, and there is no smiling raven-haired man beside me. 

There is a knock on my door. 

"Come in." 

"Good morning, my bestie!" Luke cheerfully greets me, all in what seems to be workout clothes. 

"Morning," I say, in contrast to his bright mood. 

"Listen, I know I'm no Beyonce, but at least be happy to see your best friend." He jokes, taking a drink out of the water bottle in his hand. 

"Sorry, I just don't feel like leaving my bed today." 

Which is not exactly a lie, just a half truth. 

"How the earth has shifted." He gasps dramatically, "Look at me now going for my second lap around the neighbourhood, and THEE Nova Katerina Sinclair slapping productivity in the face?" 

Katerina. Katerina is a very sexy name, I'll say. His voice echoes in my head.

I roll my eyes and playfully throw a pillow at Luke, "Oh, Shut up."

"Well, I'll leave you to role-play sleeping beauty for a day, while I go act like I have my life together." Luke says, exiting my room. 

"See you later!"

"Hey Google how do. . . " I hear him ask his phone, as his voice trails off into the distance. 

Wait. 

Why didn't I think of that before? 

I grab my phone from the bedside table and quickly type in my question onto the famous search engine. 

IS IT POSSIBLE TO RESUME A DREAM WHERE YOU PREVIOUSLY LEFT OFF?

-  Dreams can be so realistic that it can be hard to tell if we're awake or asleep. And sometimes, we wake up in the middle of a dream and wonder if it's possible to go back to sleep and pick up where we left off. It is possible to resume a dream, but it requires a certain focus and concentration. 

Hmm. . . not exactly what I'm looking for. Let me try again.

IS IT NORMAL TO REMEMBER A DREAM VERY VIVIDLY?

- It is widely common that 99.9% of us cannot remember our dreams the moment we wake up. However, scientists have concluded that there is a percentage of us that do remember our dreams. The few individuals that do (an estimated 2%) remember a maximum of two dreams a week. However, reportedly, only significant parts of their dreams are memorable and others fade along as dreams normally do. 

Shit. I'm way past that maximum of two dreams. 

WHY AM I AWARE WHEN I AM DREAMING? 

- This phenomenon has been classified as 'Lucid Dreaming.' This is whereby an individual becomes aware that they are in the dream world. The events that happen in their brain are merely figment of imaginations. The individual is aware of this the entire time they are in slumber. It is also important to note that some individuals who lucid dream, are able to control the events that unfold before them in the dream. 

Okay. This sounds half right. Every time that Elvis has been in my dream I have been extremely aware that none of it is real. But to control my dreams? That one I can't relate to. 

WHY DOES A CELEBRITY KEEP APPEARING IN MY DREAMS?

- Celebrities in dreams are not unusual. In fact, researchers evidenced that the appearance of a famous figure often indicates something the individual longs for. Some believe it's a human's soul craving for something they have not yet realised themselves. 

What does that even mean?

WHY DOES ONE PERSON CONSTANTLY APPEAR IN MY DREAMS?

-  Dreaming of a specific someone (friend, relative, ex) is your brains way of saying that you need to accept something related to that person. Maybe a misunderstanding or something they did that did not sit right with you. 

Ugh. This one is not very helpful, how does that even happen when I don't and have never known Elvis Presley personally? 

I continue to scroll down the page and click on an article. 

- Dreaming about the same person constantly can mean a multitude of things. 

1. Firstly, it may relate to unresolved issue. 

2. Your subconscious may be sending you a warning sign. 

3. You're trying to manifest something in real life. 

4. You feel guilty for a reason you can't explain. 

5. There's an energy imbalance between you. 

I sigh in defeat and close my phone. None of those listed make any sense. So much for Google having the answer to everything. But let's get some facts straight, from the very few I found relevant in my search: Remembering dreams is uncommon, but if you do, you only remember up to 2 dreams a week. I've dreamed of him six times already. Lucid dreaming is when you become aware that you are dreaming and whatever is happening is not real, okay so that is definitely relatable. When a celebrity keeps appearing in your dreams it means your soul is trying to tell you something. . .  but what could that possibly be? And lastly, the article - none of it seems relevant. 

Who do I even turn to for answers? Or even someone to just talk to about what's happening to me? There's no way I can tell Charlotte or Luke, they'll be worried. Even more of a no towards my parents. 

I shot of realisation hits me then and there. I get up and open my wardrobe, frantically finding the purse gifted to me years ago. A purse I used to use so often when I was a kid, the Disney characters perfectly stitched onto it. I open it and my hand grasped the small piece of paper, I dig it out of the purse and sit back down on my bed. 

I grab my phone and dial the number scribbled onto the paper, and patiently wait as the phone rings. 

"Hello, who am I speaking to?" Her voice travels through, and a smile pulls on my lips. 

"Great-Aunt Odette, hi. It's me, Nova." I reply, nervously fiddling with my fingers. 

"Oh, hello Nova!  Is everything alright? What made you call?" Her tone quickly concerned. 

"I'm fine, there's nothing wrong. I, just um. . .  well it's better if I see you. Is it ok if I visit?" 

She chuckles, "You don't even have to ask, dear. When?"

I took a deep breath, "Today." 

chapter 12

Writing updates!! as of September 4, 2024 📝

Hi! Please read on further if you would like to know details on my writing updates about my specific fics 🤍

‘Yours Truly’

• ‘Yours Truly’ is one of my on-going fanfics. I have been very bad with updating this, the last time I updated was last year. I am so so sorry. Life has hit me so hard this year. and well, it became difficult to find time to clear my head and breathe and to write.

• But worry not, this fanfic WILL be completed. Even if it does take me a while to update, this I promise you. This entire fanfic has already been planned out. All I need to do is well - write.

• I have estimated that this fic will be around 30-40 ish chapters.

• What is my progress currently? - well, I am 50% finished with chapter 14. Almost there. There are a couple of scenes in this chapters, so it’s the case of whether or not I end up placing the other ones in chapter 15. But we shall see.

• thank you so much for the reads and patience! 🤍 it will be out soon. I’ll give you all a hint tho: the collage I made is a hint of what takes place in chapter 14. 😉

‘Kismet, Kismet’

• ‘Kismet, Kismet’ is the second fic that I started to write. It is very new still. There’s only two parts out at the moment. But definitely not close to being finished.

• I have no concrete plan on how long the fanfic as of now, but it will definitely be quite a few chapters.

• What is my progress currently? - I have started to roughly outline Part 3, but have not drafted anything yet. But the collage I’ve done gives you a hint on what will be expected in Part 3.

• Please do keep reading and giving me feedback, I treasure these so much!

One-Shots and requests!

• As for One shots - inspiration shows up out of nowhere, out of the blue, can literally happen to me anytime. At any given moment. I do have quite a few ideas floating in my head, but not currently writing any one shots at the moment.

• Requests? - My request box is currently open. However, I do have a choice in which ones I choose and choose not to do. If I feel uncomfortable about a request, I will politely remove this and not proceed. Please do understand this. Other than that, my requests are open 💌

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."

taglist:

@literally-just-elvis-fics

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@returntopresley

I AM SO GLAD I FOUND YOUR ACCOUNT ITS SO CUTE IM OBSESSED!! I JUST STARTED CHANGING MY WARDROBE AND STYLE TO BE 2013 AESTHETIC AND THIS HELPS SM <3 i’m not sure if you do requests but if you do could you do some more winter or christmas inspired outfits <3

Of course! Also, THANK YOUU SO SO SO MUCH!! I love you! 💕💕

2013 inspired Christmas outfits 🎄

(Click ‘Keep reading’ to see outfit details!)

🧁 Outfit 1 details 🧁

↪ Sweater ¦ Amazon ($33)

↪ Jeans ¦ River Island

↪ Boots ¦ UGG ($200)

↪ Beanie ¦ Amazon ($14)

.

🧁 Outfit 2 details 🧁

↪ Sweater ¦ Topshop

↪ Skirt ¦ Old Navy

↪ Boots ¦ (I don’t know)

↪ Tights ¦ (Anywhere)

↪ Bow ¦ (Anywhere)

.

🧁 Outfit 3 details 🧁

↪ Sweater ¦ VARGA ($44.95)

↪ Skirt ¦ Rose Gal (sold out)

↪ Boots ¦ (Anywhere)

↪ Socks ¦ (Anywhere)

↪ Beanie ¦ Accessorize ($25) ($12)

.

🧁 Outfit 4 details 🧁

↪ Top ¦ Victoria’s Secret

↪ Leggings ¦ Lululemon

↪ Boots ¦ UGG

↪ Scarf ¦ ASOS

↪ Beanie ¦ Loud Elephant

.

🧁 Outfit 5 details 🧁

↪ Top ¦ Killstar

↪ Jeans ¦ River Island

↪ Cardigan ¦ (Anywhere)

↪ Flats ¦ Walmart ($110) ($40)

↪ Headband ¦ Amazon ($8) ($7)

infinitely

🎀Yours truly🎀

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

To cook, to clean, to nurture, to birth, to love

TO BE THEIRS....

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

Emotional signs are the very proof that we're women. Our curse is to have opinions and to want to live in the tenderness of our hysteria. If we did that, we'd end up burned on the cross, because even Mary didn't have a choice. Nonetheless, our emotional capacity and innovation gene distinguish us from the animals. Why am I being penalized for something that identifies all of us ?

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

The feminine urge

To fuck, to smoke, to kill, to build, to mob, to murder, to achieve, to hurt, TO DESTROY

Or maybe I'm overreacting. I better shut up before they take me away.

Fuck, I forgot to by my school notebooks.