Fever

Trouble

You decide not to tell Candice about the pills. Even though she's your best friend, this just seems too personal to share with anyone else. You tell yourself you're just being dramatic, overthinking things as always, but you can't help the worry the niggles in the back of your brain.

"You and Elvis left the party pretty early last night, huh?" Candice says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as the two of you walk about a shop.

Charlie and Jerry follow a ways behind, probably a little bored with the two of you fawning over dresses and jewelry. They're a comforting presence, though.

Them, and the gun resting against your thigh beneath your mini skirt.

You roll your eyes at Candice's comment, a faint blush turning your cheeks pink.

"How was he?"

"Candice!" You laugh, bumping your hip into hers.

She giggles.

"C'mon girl, you know I had to ask!"

You nod your head, smiling. Candice can always take your mind off of things.

"In a word?" You look at her, eyebrow arched. "Unbelievable." You sigh dramatically, draping an arm over your forehead for dramatic effect.

Candice chuckles, shaking her head. Her hair is getting longer, you notice. Her black curls bounce prettily against her shoulders.

"You excited to head to Phoenix tomorrow?" You ask, absentmindedly checking the pricetag of a shawl.

Candice nods.

"I'm excited to go anywhere really, you know I've only been to Texas and California." She says, and you hum in response.

Candice had lived in California her whole life, born and raised in San Francisco. She moved to L.A. around the same time you did, the two of you meeting in a dance studio. You'd been inseparable ever since.

"It's kinda fun, travelling the country like this." She continues.

"Before you know it, we'll be traveling the world!" You tell her, smiling at the idea of the two of you in Paris, Rome, Barcellona.

Candice sighs.

"Man, I'd kill to go to Paris."

You nod.

"Elvis says that after this tour, he's gonna start working on scheduling a European tour." You look around, as if paranoid someone will hear you, and lean in close to Candice. "Without the Colonel."

Candice raises an eyebrow.

"Finally gonna get rid of that bloodsucker?"

You shrug.

"Hopefully, I'm getting tired of the way he hangs off Elvis." You frown. "It's like he's in love with him or something."

Candice snorts.

"Watch out Y/N, you might have some competition."

You roll your eyes, taking the shawl you had been eyeing off the rack.

"Puh-leas, like that old timer could compete with me!" You bat you eyelashes, draping the shawl around your head.

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, Charlie and Jerry looking on in confusion.

For now, surrounded by friends and high spirits, your worries are displaced.

*

*

*

Bringing up the pills is a lot harder than you thought it was going to be. You're lying in bed with Elvis after the show and party, head on his chest as the night wears on. Your finger traces the thin skin covering his collarbone, trying to come up with the right way to go about this. 

Luckily, it doesn't seem like you'll have to.

"Did you keep the gun I gave you?" Elvis asks.

You lay your hand flat on his chest. You nod.

"About that," You begin, sitting up a little. "I don't want you to think I was snooping through your things, Elvis, but I- well." You stop yourself, not sure how to go about this. You're nervous, not sure how he'll react. Elvis sits up right along with you, eyebrow raised.

"You what, Y/N?" He asks, and you can't read the emotion in his voice.

You take a deep breath, deciding just to go for it.

"Elvis, how long have you been taking Dexedrine?"

He looks at you for a moment before breaking out into a grin.

"Oh, that." Elvis sounds relieved, like you'd just asked him about the weather or something.

"It helps me stay alert, you know, get it together for interviews and stuff." He says, laying back down. "It ain't no thing."

You frown.

"I just. . . I don't know." You sigh, running a hand through your hair out of frustration. "I don't like you taking so many pills at once, Elvis. It can't be good for you."

Elvis, who had been listening to you with closed eyes, sitting up suddenly.

"You don't know everything, Y/N." His tone is cold. "You have no idea what it's like, to be so exhausted that all that can get me goin' in the morning is a handful of pills."

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, back to you.

Elvis puts his head in his hands.

"It's like I'm goin' crazy, working like a damn dog and for what?" You hear the waver in his voice.

"For what?" He whispers.

You're silent, not knowing what to say. You put a tentative hand on his shoulder, relieved when he doesn't shrug it off.

"You're right," you say softly. "I don't know." You shuffle, moving to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "But if you let me in, baby, I can try to understand."

Elvis looks at you, and your heart breaks at the expression on his face. He just looks so tired.

"Let me in, Elvis." You say, opening your arms to him. He leans into you, head under your chin like a small child. You wrap both arms around him tight.

The two of you sit like that in silence for awhile, before Elvis finally speaks.

"My mama would have loved you, Y/N."

It's soft, a declaration that breaks your heart.

You pet his hair in response.

"I'm tryin' to be better, I'm really trying."

"I know you are. I know." You kiss his forehead. "We can make it through this tour, and then we'll be free, Elvis. You'll be free."

Elvis nods against you.

It's a quiet moment, one that you wish you could live in forever- holding him close to you, safe in the quiet of the room. No one reaches for him, no prying eyes or desperate fans calling for the man you love.

You know it won't last.