𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋
✧˚· .
In which, a young girl who's one of two of the Beaulieu sisters meets a hip thrusting singer. her sister shows much interest in elvis, while sophia does not...
DONT BE CRUEL x elvis presley
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ G E R M A N Y
── ELVIS AND PRISCILLA sat in silence, they sat on the bed. Soon Elvis would be gone.
Elvis was excited to go home, all he'd ever wanted was to go home since he'd arrived in dreary Germany, yet something scared him about going home to an empty house. A house missing something or rather - someone.
"Are... are you excited to go home?" Priscilla sheepishly asked.
All night Elvis had been in an awful mood after many sleepless nights. He stayed up, his burdens slowly bottling up inside him without a way of escaping. He was so anxious, not only about going home in a matter of days but also leaving on bad terms with a particular young girl.
Elvis turned his attention to Priscilla, his eyes clouded and brimmed with dark circles, "Yeah, it'll be real nice to be back home." He lied through his teeth giving Priscilla the satisfaction of his short attention span.
He blankly stared at the carpet letting out a long sigh of exhaustion. He could feel the awkwardness rolling off in waves, if only Sophia were here to listen. In the short time Elvis had known both girls, Sophia was the one who'd know exactly what to say at the right time. Her naturally melodic voice could calm him within seconds.
Trapped in his own thoughts he hadn't even noticed Priscilla's bored sighs. She watched carefully for a sign of practically anything.
"Are you okay?"
Elvis blinked away his nervous haze, not realized he was now staring directly at the bland carpeted floor.
He cleared his throat taking a few seconds to bring himself back to normality, "Actually honey," he begins, letting his oceanic eyes meet hers, "I'm dyin' for a cold glass of water, you stay here. I'll be back soon."
With that Elvis sauntered to the door, whipping the door closed. He made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. Not caring about the open buttoned shirt he adorned. The red color bringing out the darkness of his long eyelashes.
He pushed the door open, he hardly felt alive as his limbs carried him through the door.
Sophia sat by herself on the stool at the kitchen bar. She took much note of Elvis' unusually sluggish movements. He grasped a cup out of the cupboard, his hands mildly shaking from many restless nights. He leaned on the cold counter close to Sophia, taking a long needed drink.
"You look like shit." She said frankly, her eyes narrowing to closely observe his uneasy eyes.
Elvis lifted his eyes to meet hers, "Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself."
