The Four Seasons of Michael (Princess Diaries Fanfic)

September (4)

I first heard about her on Thursday evening, and it wasn't even her writing me back. It was my own fault, really. I should have known better than reading news about my hometown. What good did knowing what was happening in New York even do me? It made no difference for someone stuck in Japan.

She was the headline. Either it was a very slow news day, or I had underestimated New Yorkers' love for their own princess. I couldn't think of any other reason why school evacuation would be front news, even though it was the princess' school.

Unless reporting about evacuation was only a cover for the true point of the news. It didn't escape me how JP, the (rumored) new boyfriend, was described as a hero who selflessly saved the princess. Though I was glad she was safe, it enraged me to no end. And where the hell was Lars? It ruined my otherwise completely plain, emotion-suppressed evening of dinner in front of television and shows I didn't understand. I didn't pick up when Boris called, which of course made me feel even more childish. I couldn't win, no matter what.

I was up all night again, changing channels, deciding whether to watch kpop music videos, TV commercials or the news channel. I didn't understand anything no matter the channel. Around two in the morning I was so fed up I finally ended up unpacking. I guess as long as my stuff was in bags and boxes, the apartment had an excuse for looking impersonal and cold. Now, when bags were in closets and the rooms still looked more like a random hotel room than a place to come to every night, I realized just how lonely I was. I had a few pictures on my nightstand, of my family, my extended family, Mia, but they only exaggerated my feeling of loneliness, so I stuffed them in a drawer, hoping my craving for something familiar would not make me put them back.

I was back in the lab hours before anyone else. On my way, I bought some pastry, but I left it in my backpack, for later, but that later never arrived. I worked through lunch, I skipped the afternoon break, I just kept working and working. There was sweat on my forehead, my eyes began aching, my back was hurting, but I kept going, only drinking a few sips of water every couple of hours. It was as dysfunctional behavior as it gets, it was a perfect way to ruin yourself, but I didn't know any better. I was too angry, too upset to allow myself to stop.

"Michael, don't you think we've had enough for one day?" Midori carefully asked around eight in the evening.

"You can home, but I'll stay," I didn't move my eyes off the arm in the making.

"You look like you could use some rest," she insisted.

I glanced at her, for only a second.

"I am fine," I dismissed her. "See you tomorrow."

I stayed till midnight, though I realized quickly after my team left that building Charlie was by no means a one-man band.

As I was walking home, it occurred to me that maybe I could use the media reports in my own advantage.

If I responded, in a friendly manner, it might show her I wasn't angry or upset with her. If she is indeed scared of my anger, it might encourage her to write back. It would be something a friend would do, commenting on newspaper reports about the other, right?

I ran the rest of the way. I paid no attention to the hunger I felt, I went straight to my computer, looking up the article on Post. Looking at a photograph of Kenny I knew just what to write.

"So I guess Kenny finally figured out how to get the attention he's always felt he deserved ..."

After clicking send, I ate the pastry from the morning and went to bed. It was the first time since arriving to Japan that I slept well, without turning around on the verge of wakefulness for most of the night.