The Four Seasons of Michael (Princess Diaries Fanfic)

October (1)

I had to wonder if, in some form, despite writing me back, she still wanted to get back at me.

I knew and dated her for long enough to know she didn't like the spotlight, and hated newspapers reporting on her personal life.

Lately it seemed she was turning into one of those TV starlets, desperate for attention to the extent of x-raying their bodies in front of cameras to gain more exposure and notoriety. I knew deep inside she couldn't have changed this much in a month, but to an untrained eye, it would certainly seem so.

Every other day the Internet was flooded with pictures of her and her now more than just rumored consort. They were photographed coming out of the fanciest restaurants, Broadway, strolling around Central Park. At first I just frowned, thinking it was an unfortunate event of being recognized. Of course the media was ecstatic, a princess dating a son of the renowned producer was much bigger news than her seeing someone like me, but when it kept happening, again and again, I knew it couldn't be only a coincidence. It was done on purpose, and despite the dismay on her face in most of the photographs, the anger was awakening in me again.

It was a low, cheap shot.

What did he have that I didn't? He couldn't possibly love her as much as I did. There simply wasn't a way to love someone more than I loved her. I was revolutionizing fucking cardio surgery for her, for crying out loud! How could she not realize it? Why was she so fucking blind and ignorant?

Money didn't mean much to Mia, she couldn't like him for that, could she? Did she find a similar artistic soul in him? I knew he too was writing, poems, short stories, whatnot, but frankly, I never found them spectacular, at all. More like ramblings of someone who had been told he was special from day one. With a father like his, he could certainly come a long way in playwriting business. He was a joke, really.

Clarisse must love him, though. She had loved him ever since the musical they performed, and who's not to say she didn't give him the leading role on purpose? She never hid her opinion of me, I wasn't good enough for her granddaughter. It didn't matter who I was or what I felt for her granddaughter, not coming from a royal family was my only and fatal sin – or, as she was showing in the case of the tall, blue-eyed JP, I didn't come from a family rich or renowned enough. She was a snob, a type of person I detested, but because of her granddaughter, I had and would put up with her.

If the point of the whole going-out-with-JP charade was to piss me off, it was working. I deserved something better than this public humiliation, and I wasn't going to suck it up.

It was ten in the evening, but I couldn't care less. I was fed up. I wasn't some toy they could kick around. They could be royal, rich, whatever. It didn't give them the right to treat me like crap.

I rented a car and started driving to the closest airport, planning on getting on the first plane back to New York. I didn't know what I was going to do or say there, but I couldn't take it anymore. Screw robotic arm, screw the reason, all I wanted was Mia and she was slipping away. I wouldn't go down without a fight, no fucking way. If she had something to say, at least she should tell it to my face. I did everything for her, fucking everything, I deserved something better than staring into the photographs of her new beau. If this was the end, I wouldn't let her think she was the innocent victim in all this. I would give her a piece of my mind alright.

I was driving way over the limit and almost drove off the road in a turn. I stopped at the closest gas station, catching my breath. I had almost lost the control of the car, almost killed myself by hitting a tree. For what, the hypocrisy of Genovian Royal Family and the blue-eyes poster boy JP? Surely they treated me like crap, but I wasn't giving them the satisfaction of becoming road kill.