1956. A girl in the crowd is proposed to by her boyfriend in front of Elvis. It would be a lovely moment if it weren't for the three other girls he also dated. All of them were present at the same time and place, just after Elvis' concert. As the dr...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
* chapter music * - arms of heaven - Jeick Abrego
_____________________________
Like a whisper of their souls, always there.
_____________________________
◌ ◌ ◌
Elvis POV
The 25th of July, 1957
Looking at her hurt. Pointing to the top shelf in the record store, a row of Only You records by The Platters were at the end of her fingertip. The urge to tell her everything, profess my love to her, and give into my hope of her giving back, grew stronger by the minute.
She seemed so close yet so far away. There were no risks to keep quiet, which had felt like a safe house for a good run—carefully avoiding giving too much, but enough to feel as though I had her close.
It wasn't enough anymore.
To be real, I felt her thinking the same. All so comfortable, we stayed closer and closer—having no second thoughts when kissing her temple, having her in my arms, or laying on my chest. The only thing we guarded was the undeniable exposure of what we felt—told through either words or a kiss. Never too affectionate to the point of crossing what we could stretch belonged in the friendly friendship we convinced ourselves we had.
I hadn't believed we were only friends for a long time. Sal kept holding herself three steps behind me, though. Recently, I could almost feel her breath coming closer to me, not as far behind—reaching my neck.
What it hurt to think of, more now than before, was that each time I caressed her, the fear of it leading nowhere was present. Each touch was longed for in the beginning—so much so that I let it slide that we pretended. Coming to a point where I needed us to be something more; our tenderness felt both like the colours of red and blue. A deep wine-red shade dragging me closer, and the blue setting me up for heartache.
Feeling the blues, I needed my hold of her to mean she was mine —it all needed to be red.
◌ ◌ ◌
Rosalie POV
Nothing but the loving eyes of my dearest one had his hold of me from across the room. All going into a blur, the magnifying happiness I felt thinking of driving around with him, listening to records with the sun hitting us, then going back home to dine with him, Gladys, Vernon, Billy, Red, Scotty, and so on—it could not compare to anything. Almost picturing the coming laughter when evening would dawn upon us, in good company—I didn't think I had ever been happier than right here, today.
