Elvis One Shots/Imagines

I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone - Elvis

A/N: request by justtheclassics on ao3

You'd hoped that yesterday was the end of it. A clean break from your husband and the life you once lived with him. But of course it wasn't. Despite telling him that it was over and leaving the house, you needed to come back to grab the last of your items.

You'd spent the entire night crying. Just because you made the decision to leave him didn't mean it hurt you any less. Elvis Presley was the love of your life, there was no doubt about it. But you couldn't live with this addiction. You tried for years to get him help and he either wouldn't go or it would fail. As much as you loved him, you knew you couldn't continue a life like this. If Elvis wasn't willing to get help, that was his fault and it wasn't fair for that burden to be on your heart.

You tried to sneak into the house and avoid seeing Elvis. What you mainly needed was some of the emotional keepsakes and stuff in the basement, and you were able to quickly grab the box full of scrapbooks and records. But when you came back upstairs you heard two male voices and you hid behind the wall.

You chided yourself for acting so childishly. The two of you were adults, you could walk by in a home you still technically had a part of without causing a scene. But then you heard a sob.

"I can't believe it, Jerry," the voice cried and you knew it was Elvis. Your feet planted you to the floor despite your best efforts to move.

"It's gonna be okay, EP."

"No it ain't. I fucked the whole thing up. She deserves better than me, man. I ain't ever gonna get someone that good again."

Jerry stayed silent and you strained to try to hear more. Elvis was a loud crier but it went with his loud personality. He wailed softly and you knew his hands were probably on his chest. He always said crying made his heart feel like it was gonna pop right out and he had to keep it in place.

"Y/N is the love of my Goddamn life.. I don't deserve her. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve nuthin. All I ever do is fuck ever'one up with this stupid music bullshit. I ain't worth a dime. My musics shit," his accent was thick and his words a little slurred from emotion. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Jerry I just want it to end, this don't feel so good."

"EP..."

"I don't do nothing for nobody. I know I seem mighty dramatic but I don't want to feel it no more. Dem pills ain't easy to just stop, they make this shit seem no so shitty. I'm caught in a trap and I can't walk out."

You didn't realize you'd been crying also until the tear slipped down your face. The man of your dreams was hating on himself so much. It wasn't your job to make him feel better but you loved him, and you wanted to help him. Despite yourself, you stepped from behind the wall and into the archway of the living room.

Elvis was on the floor, leaning against the couch. His cheeks were bright pink and shiny from tears, his nose was running, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild. His body was scrunched up and he was holding his legs tightly to his chest like a security blanket. Jerry was standing with his hands in his pockets, and his eyes widened when he saw you.

"Y/N..." Jerry said, his mouth falling open. Elvis's head shot up in complete shock and he couldn't seem to form words, he just looked at you.

"Hi," your voice cracked.

After a pause, Jerry cleared his throat and said, "I'll leave you two alone."

He walked upstairs and away from the living room, leaving you holding a box and Elvis on the floor. Elvis had to clear his throat a few times before he could say something coherently, and all he said was, "you came back?"

You gestures to the box and his face fell.

"'Course, course..." he murmured, looking at his feet.

"I should go."

"Don't. Please, don't," he said quickly. Elvis seemed to realize what he had done, what he had revealed with that, and he went in on himself. You placed the box on the floor went to the coffee table, sitting on the edge. Your legs were next to Elvis's body and he stiffened at the proximity.

"Y/N... I don't know what you heard, but I hope you know I'm so fucking sorry," he said at last. "I'm so sorry for all I put you through. I wanna beg for ya but I know it ain't fair."

"Elvis..."

He brought a hand to his face to try and suppress his tears, "I wanna beg so damn hard. I wanna show ya I love ya but I know it don't mean nothing. You ain't gonna believe me none."

After a pause he said, "you was right, ya know."

"What baby?"

"About dem pills. They ain't worth shit. You was right all along and now.. now you're gone."

Your throat tightened, "I'm right here."

"It ain't the same." He paused, staring at the floor. "You still love me?"

It was your turn to clam up, tears streaming down your face and you tried to ignore all that question posed. So you settled for a simple, "yes."

That answer seemed to break him. Elvis threw his head down, letting out a long, mournful cry. He brought a hand to hold yours, fingers tightly squeezing yours with a sort of desperate humanity.

"Baby... baby I love you. I don't want our life to be like this, this, this mess where you're sad and I'm dying. Oh baby, just give me a chance. I will do everything baby. I don't wanna live like this."

"Elvis."

"I love you so much. Too damn much for one person, baby."

"I love you too," you said, your voice hoarse.

"Let me prove it. I ain't worthy of you but damn I wanna try."

Alarm bells were screaming in your head, telling you that this was not the best option. And yet, you looked into your husband's eyes and you saw a broken man who'd been beat by the same system that praised him. So you said, "okay."

His jaw fell open, his lips quivering in emotion. Then Elvis's head laid on your lap, and you ran your fingers softly through his hair. In the background, an old record of Elvis's started to play.

"We're lost in a cloud
With too much rain
We're trapped in a world
That's troubled with pain
As long as a man has the strength to dream
He can redeem his soul and fly."