𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄

RENEW

Distance makes the heart grow stronger.

━━━━━━━━

SPAIN,
MARCH 1978

Michael had never been the forceful type.

Never impatient, never demanding, never forward.

But Diana had managed to awaken the paradox in him, bringing him into a new world, shaping him into someone unfamiliar. A person that felt and desired things he'd been told he shouldn't. A person that even when confused and angry and disillusioned, wanted to hold her, caress her, kiss her.

It wasn't all that strange. After all, it had been this way before.

The night she had come to his apartment, he had been overcome with the same bundle of mixed emotions, minus the confusion, minus the anger. He had sensed it in her too, had almost smelled it on her when he had lifted her and took her into his arms just steps away from his apartment door.

Their spirits had been writhing, bouncing from wall to wall. Days of distance and hard work at the studio had kept them subdued and restrained, and when they had finally been set free, those feelings had risen, coming in faster than a tide at sea.

And that tide had visited them again, had coursed through the center of her bathroom and cast his hand around her waist just before Diana had sent him stumbling back into the sink.

Their desperately moving lips had masked the minor flash of pain; it had disappeared entirely when her lips, soft and plump, had glided along the bottom row of his teeth.

Michael's mind had done the work for him. It had pushed away all the fury and melancholy and replaced it with pure need and determination.

He had wanted to stay.

He had wanted to make her as crazy about him as he was about her.

The ideas had been there. Rising, swelling, budding in his mind like the beginnings of a song or a blooming flower.

God, he had been so close. So close to the perfect idea, so close to damning it all and proving his undying devotion to her on that cold, tile floor.

And he had been within a hair's breadth of doing just that when his eyes shot open.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty. We ran over a bump. They weren't kidding when they said the roads on this side of town were terrible."

Through his blurred vision, he could see a silhouette. As his eyes steadied, the person and the world around them materialized within a penumbra of dark grey. Randy was looking down at him from above, his head angled over the back of the seat.

Michael sat up, yawning. His head throbbed and his eyelids were as heavy as lead. For a moment, he wondered what time it was. When they had left the venue, the sky had been a swirling canvas of blue and light pink. Now, it was a still backdrop of white speckled dark blue, enveloping a landscape of tall, dense trees, small brick homes, and distant city lights.

"How long was I asleep?"

He rubbed one eye then the other, admiring the scenery of the quaint, Spanish countryside splayed around them. It was a far cry from the crowded streets of the city.

"Probably a good 30 minutes, maybe even longer. We ran into a little trouble on the road. Bill says we have a couple of miles to go before we reach the hotel."

Michael could barely keep his eyes open. Tonight's show must have taken more out of him than he'd thought. Slumping, he tilted his head against the window, brought his blanket closer, and stretched his legs.