The Four Seasons of Michael (Princess Diaries Fanfic)

February (1)

I don't know how we got to the topic, but Mia and I started discussing weather in Somalia. I didn't know anything about the climate there – minus what I remembered from school – and certainly didn't know what to think about it. I didn't feel like discussing it, either, but this was Mia. I would read a telephone book with that girl and still worship every second – or, better yet, every name.

And so I used google, looked up some information, and tried to sound knowledgeable while writing the email. I hoped the excessive use of long words and terms would hide my act.

First days of the month were warm, such a contrast to the chilly winter. One sunny afternoon I decided to ditch the gym for a quick jogging hour around Tsukuba. Which, as it turned out, was a huge mistake.

An icy patch on the sidewalk somehow managed to survive the warming temperatures. My head was in springing clouds, and I managed to miss it. The next thing I knew, I lost footing and ended face-first on the ground.

It took me a second or two to comprehend what had just happened. I touched my face to see if I was bleeding. I wasn't; only my hands were slightly scratched.

But when I tried to get up, I realized I didn't survive the fall completely unharmed. I couldn't put my weight on my right ankle.

I cursed and somehow managed to limp back to my apartment. The way I kept leaning on the walls as I was ascending the stairs made me feel like I was a drunk stumbling home.

I put a cold compress on my ankle, hoping it would numb my leg enough to stop hurting. It didn't. Half an hour later it still hurt as much as it did before. I called Henry and canceled the session, heating myself a dinner in the microwave instead, spending the evening watching cheap reality shows.

The next morning my ankle wasn't mysteriously cured, but I refused to let it stop me from my daily routine. I arrived at the lab late, at least to my standards, but I might as well just stay home. I couldn't stand on my leg for long periods of time, I was taking a shameful amount of breaks. I was feeling useless for most of the time. I couldn't focus on the work because of the pain, and I hated myself for it. I tried to block everything out, but it caused the work to suffer. In the end, I realized it was best for me to just sit and oversee my team. I was so frustrated I even annoyed myself.

On the third day, I gave in to Midori's persuasion and went to see a doctor.

"It's not broken," he said, "it is just sprained. It should get better in a few days. Don't put too much weight on too soon. Come back if it doesn't get any better in about a week."

Playing the guitar was something I could do without standing up. Henry was ecstatic to have me over more often. With more regular and more intense practice, we started to sound better. We actually sounded great.

He was, though, less happy about my saying no to girls he often brought home from work.

"Oh, come on, we're rockstars!" he kept repeating, usually while making out with two of them simultaneously.

"Didn't you say we were just messing around a bit?" I reminded him, not really sure of where to look at. There was Tim smoking joints in the corner, Akira doing something that resembled meditation, while Johan was talking on his phone in what I presumed was loud Swedish. A bunch of girls was mixing cocktails in the kitchen and some of them were flipping through Tim's collection of records. I never felt more college-like, I swear. It was fucking hilarious.

"Well, exactly," Tim grinned. "This place is sacred. No one outside of these walls will ever know about it if there is someone you don't want to hear about it."