Recovery (Lana Del Rey/Elvis Fan Fiction)

Chapter 4: A Little Game

The storm was anything but better the next day. The wind blew like a an angered God and the snow was thrown around viciously. Lana poured herself a cup of tea while Elvis sat in his room and sung to himself as he shined his shoes with an old rag he borrowed from his dearest host. The storm was so rapid that it looked as if it were the dead of night outside; the lower half of the house surrounded by four feet of snow. Lana blew on her hot cup of tea as she watched the snow blaze around crazily. "I'm beginning to think I'm stuck with you." Elvis joked as he entered the kitchen; picking up an apple from a fruit basket and leaning himself onto the counter top with his elbows. "Let's hope not," she joked back. And Elvis smirked cheekily before taking a bite into that red succulent apple. It was only seconds later before Lana alienated herself again as she hid away in the music room. And again, Elvis was alone. Piano notes swarmed around the house graciously as Elvis lied on the couch, listening closely. It was the only way he could listen without her stopping or running off. Every now and then she would stop playing for a couple of seconds and then start up from where she had left off. The only conclusion for her doing that, Elvis thought, was because she was writing a song. Elvis listened to the tune and tried to think of what type of song it was; what the words might have been if she were to sing them. And then his mind stumbled upon if she could sing, and if she could than what would it sound like? Would it be raspy yet sweet? Or light and melodic? From her behavior he figured she was probably one of those people who sing sad, boring songs about bad hygiene or something weird. But then again he figured he was in no condition to judge anyone. He sat himself up and looked over at the door that released the music. Yes, she was good at the piano; really good, but it was so simple and classical. He needed more; he needed excitement. He wanted to hear electric come out of that piano like Jerry Lee Lewis would do; something wild. He just needed to dance.

She stopped playing once she felt his presence, and stiffly turned around to him; causing her curls to bounce. "Did you need something?" her voice sweet. "I was just sitting' out there listenin' to you play," he began, "Y'know, you'd be really good if you'd play a little more - exciting." "Exciting?" she inquired with a raised brow. "Yeah," he shrugged a shoulder, "Y'know. Somethin' that would make people wanna get up and dance." "Good thing I have no one to entertain than." she smiled weakly and turned back around. Elvis scoffed at her poor attitude. She was so dull, he thought; so plain and ordinary. "Have you ever had fun?" he asked, his voice a little more serious. She turned back around to him and looked at him with a questioning look. "What?" Elvis slid his hands into his pockets. "Well no disrespect, darlin', but there seems to be a little dent in ya do." he said honestly. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she spoke calmly but in her eyes you can see she was taking offense. "You've got no flame to you. When you play music its slow and boring." She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Well maybe I like slow and boring. Is that a problem?" "Only when y'r playin' music, doll." She scowled at him for a moment, but it wasn't a look of hate, it was a look of curiosity. "Y'see," he said as he walked into the room a little further. "Music is supposed to control people. Its supposed to grab someone who's had the worst day of their life and make it the best one. N'ah don't get me wrong, that old classical stuffs okay, but nothin' beats rock 'n roll, baby." She slightly chuckled. "I don't listen to rock 'n roll, actually." she said. "I'd be lyin' if I said I couldn't tell." Elvis smirked. "Let me show you a little somethin'." He picked up the acoustic guitar and put the strap over his neck. "When I was on tour, me and the other musicians used to make up songs and such right off the top of our heads. We called it moshin'." "Oh." Lana cooed with interest. "One person would start out playin' somethin' and then another person would join in. That's how I came up with my song That's All Right Mama." "That was the song you were singing last night?" she concluded. "Yes ma'am." he smiled. "Maybe we can try it." "Try what?" "Moshin'." Her face flushed a light red. "Oh. No, no, no. I was done playing anyways. I -" "Oh, c'mon, n'ah. Don't be like that." he interrupted. She paused for a moment and looked at him with debating eyes. "We can just try out a little somethin' and if it doesn't work we won't ever do it again." he promised, looking at her sincerely. An agitated sigh pressed out from between her pink lips and she gave in. "Fine. One song." "Aright," he cheered, "That's what I'm talkin' about!" He clapped and rubbed his hands together, preparing himself for some music making. "I'll start." he informed her. Suddenly he was playing an up tempo rock 'n roll beat. "That's too fast!" Lana complained as Elvis played with a dance in his step. "N'ah you can't give up before it begins," he said, continuing to play. "Don't think. Just play. Go with the beat, baby. Just go with the beat." She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath. Just play, she thought. It was out of the ordinary for her to even attempt something as free willing as this. She was so used to being quiet and closed in, that her finger tips were shaking over the piano keys. Without thinking, she slammed her fingers down on the piano and began to play along. It was slow and odd at first but she soon got the hang of it and her beat matched Elvis's perfectly. "Tha's right, baby! Come on!" he exclaimed excitedly at the woven music. He danced around her as he played and for the first time in a long time she laughed, feeling absolutely absurd. The music was excellent and beautiful in the most craziest way possible. "Ya gotta stand up now darlin'." Elvis ordered. "Stand up?!" Lana asked as if Elvis had asked her to jump from a plane without a parachute. "C'mon, n'ah." he laughed. She hesitated for a second but found herself rising from her seat. She laughed at herself and squeezed her eyes shut still playing a little crazy; now easily resembling the famous Jerry Lee Lewis.

After their musical lesson, they sat in the dining room eating bowls of vanilla ice cream and hot fudge. "You were real good today, doll." he praised before taking a bite of the thick, sweet cream. Lana shook her head and laughed a little as she finished the ice cream in her mouth. "Mmm. I haven't done something crazy like that in a while." she smiled widely. "That's 'cause ya never had me around." Elvis gloated playfully. "Its true." she admitted, taking in another spoon full of ice cream. "No," he said softly, "That was all you today." "None of that was me." she giggled. "Sure it was," Elvis corrected. "And you played amazin'. Don't be so modest." Lana instantly blushed at the compliment but was very modest indeed. "You play amazing." she contradicted. "You were born to entertain. Its so natural for you." "I've been around music my whole life," he said. "I can't help what I love. Its just the passion that makes an artist great, I think." "Well you've got quite the passion." she muttered with a grin. Elvis was now the one blushing like a fool but changed the subject before she had time to notice. "Speakin' of music. Can I ask why you have all them pictures of Carter Rey, and all them guitars? Its none of my business but I'm a big fan myself." Lana's eyes softened and her smile quickly feel, though she tried to pull it back up again. "That's my daddy." she whispered lower than she wanted to; blinking tears back. Elvis looked at her in amazement. "Carter Rey is you're daddy?" he asked, astounded. She nodded. "Your daddy's legendary." Elvis praised. "He's one of my hero's." "Yours and a lot of others. Those were all of the guitars he was given from other singers or musicians." she smirked weakly. "I don't remember hearin' anythin' about him havin' a daughter. Only that he had a son who passed away after a year." "He wanted to keep me out of the lime light after my brother died. He said it'd be best. He always believed that work is work and privacy is privacy. I hardly went anywhere with him publicly. I did go to a lot of his concerts. I'd hide backstage and watch my daddy play... Best memory I ever had was when he blew me a kiss while singin' Daddy's Angel." She looked down, biting her bottom lip and smiling at the memory. "We were close." Her eyes now looking up to meet Elvis'. "I'm sorry for your loss. He was a one hell of a guy." Elvis' genuinely spoke. "Its fine. He passed away years ago. Its hard not to miss him but... I survive." she insisted. Elvis looked into her eyes as if he had found something he'd lost years ago. She gave him more of a scared look but the feeling was mutual it seemed. Elvis leaned in a little, closing a small space between their faces. Lana quickly pulled back, her breath shaky and her heart pounding. "I'm ... I'm gonna go take a nap," she lied easily. "Did you need anything else?" Elvis looked a little taken back but knew she was impossible to change in one day. He shook his head and gave a forced grin. "No." he mumbled underneath his breath. She stood from her chair and set her bowl in the sink, racing up to her room and closing the door. Her head spun with unrealistic thoughts of regret and agony but it wasn't anything she couldn't control. "Why does he have to get so close?" she muttered to herself as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Meanwhile Elvis was downstairs bored and alone again. "This house is a prison." he breathed to himself as he was now alone and bored again... He began to wish that Lana and him could have made their music lesson last longer. And then he thought of it...