With Love, 𝙀𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙨

Chapter 2

Y/N HUDSON

DECEMBER 30, 1952

It's been a little over a year since you, George, and Elvis became friends and you've grown quite close. You and Elvis slowly became closer and closer as time passed. George noticed it and teased you two about it quite often. As much as you swore you hated it, it brought a fuzzy feeling to your stomach and confusion to your mind.

It was now Christmas Eve and you, Elvis, and George were all sitting in Elvis' family's apartment in Lauderdale Court. Elvis' little cousin, Billy, was in the kitchen doing lord knows what. You were all listening to George ramble on and on about his on-and-off relationship with his girlfriend from school. The sound of laughter, all with different pitches, filled the entire apartment.

You were never home as much and often spent your time with the two boys or at dinner with Elvis. His family loved you and would ask about you anytime you went a day or two without being seen or talking to Elvis. As much as you wanted to, you could never bring Elvis to your home, and it wasn't because of Elvis, but it was because your family was so privileged and rude, that they'd tear Elvis to shreds.

As you were getting ready to take a sip of the water that you've had for a while, Billy rushed into the living room. Elvis and George took no notice and continued to talk to each other. Billy tapped your shoulder and you looked over with a smile.

"Hey there, fella," Billy looked rather worried.

"What's wrong?"

"I dropped something," Billy whispered. "Please don't tell E, he'll get stressed out..."

Your heart nearly melted at how considerate and sweet Billy was for an 11-year-old, so you took his hand and stood up so he could lead you to his mess. George seemed to have noticed this and he decided to steer the conversation towards you instead.

"Uh-oh, Elvis, little buddy's stealin' your date."

"Will you quit it?" Elvis groaned.

"Where ya' goin', Y/n?"

"Billy's takin' me on a date to the kitchen," you joked, turning your head back to wink at the two.  George laughed but you could've sworn you heard Elvis let out a rather irritated 'mhm'.

In the kitchen, Billy pointed out the shattered cup on the floor. You told him to get you the broom while you got a plastic bag to dispose of the glass in. Once Billy returned with the broom, you began to sweep up the shattered pieces of glass. Billy sat on one of the dining table's chairs and began kicking his feet as he watched you sweep what was left of the cup.

"Y/n?"

"What's up, Kid?"

Your eyes remained focused on your task as you finished sweeping.

"Are you E's girlfriend?" You nervously chuckled as you stood the broom up against the counter and bent down to pick up and tie the bag of glass.

"No, we're just friends, Billy."

"Oh, well I hear him talking to his mama and George all the time, and he really likes you." He said with a little giggle.

That same fuzzy feeling you get when George teases you and Elvis returned, but this time, stronger than ever. You and Billy both let out a small gasp when a third voice joined in on your conversation.

"Billy, stop tellin' my damn business!" Elvis 'shouted'.

"Billy, go take this out to the dumpster for me, will ya?" You asked, wanting to get to talk to Elvis alone.

Billy ran out of the kitchen with a grin that seemed to spread across the country and the bag of glass. Elvis ran his fingers through his beautifully styled hair and leaned against the counter, a stressed look spread across his face as well as a tint of pink across his cheeks.

"Did you try to yell at him or somethin'? 'Cause, that was not a very good try, mister Presley," you attempted to make him feel less embarrassed.

"I can't yell at no kids, Y/n," Elvis sighed, going to sit in the seat Billy was originally in.

Going over to comfort him, you rubbed his back gently. "I know, E, I know."

"I-I-I... I don't go bad-mouthin' everyone, Y/n, I swear, especially kids," he looked up at you with pleading eyes.

"Elvis, I know you were a little upset, I understand hon, but what's gotten into you?" You tried to go pull out a seat for yourself but Elvis stopped you by grabbing your arm.

You looked down at him with large doe-eyes, unsure of what he wanted. As he pulled you towards him, he spread his legs ever so slightly. Almost as if it were a reflex, you went to sit on his lap, most of your weight on his right leg.

One of his hands rested on your hip and the other held your free hand, as your opposite arm was hung around his shoulder. His thumb, which was ever so rough from the calluses due to his guitar, gently caressed your soft hand.

"Whaddya mean what's gotten into me, lil mama? I ain't changed no bit," he shook his head, his eyes deeply scanning your face, almost as if he was looking for approval from you.

You couldn't help but smile and let go of his hand to put your hand on his cheek. Mimicking his actions, you gently caressed his skin. His eyes fluttered ever so slightly and leaned into your touch.

"I mean you're over-explaining yourself, E. You ain't ever done that before, so why now?"

He licked his lips and his eyes dropped to the floor before he figured out what to say, "I mean, I shouted and told Billy to stop tellin' my damn business. It makes me look bad Y/n, and I don't want you to think of me any different, lil mama."

"Elvis Presley," you started. He looked worried for a second and you subtly shook your head. "I won't ever think of you any different for having emotions. Everyone is human, you can't make everyone happy," you whispered.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head down, you did the same, pressing your forehead against his. His breathing became slow and his breath smelled like mints and cola. You scanned his face, this being the closest you've ever been to him.

You noticed his freckles that were spread across his face, some more noticeable than others, and his long, gorgeous lashes. Oh, how you envied those black lashes that made his icy-blue eyes pop more than they already were.

"That's the issue, Y/n. I don't work to live; I wanna live to work." He paused before continuing, "I wanna make everyone happy, I wanna please everyone."

"Why?" You wondered aloud.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes, almost as if he could see right through you. His lips parted to let out a breath he seemed to be holding for a while.

"Do I make you happy, Y/n?" He questioned, ignoring your own.

You were silent for a minute, thinking about how you should answer. Your answer would determine your friendship from here on out and it was something you cherished deeply. Elvis would always listen to you, you would always listen to them. You cried, laughed, and felt together.

You felt a connection with him as soon as those gorgeous eyes looked into your own. Losing this friendship would mean losing a part of yourself, and you just couldn't bare to go through life without your other half.

So you answered, plain and simple. You answered the question that would cause you love, pain, sweat, and many, many tears.

So you answered, with little to no doubt in mind. You answered the question that would cause you to be the person who would walk down the aisles of both life and death with him.

So you answered.

"Yes, Elvis. Yes, you do."