Withdrawal

Summary: Based on spoilers for the fourth book. Michael's in Florida, can't talk to Mia, and he's miserable.

Rating: PG-believe me, if you've read the books, you'll have no problem with this.

Genre: General/Humor

Disclaimer: Believe me, I would LOVE to own Michael Moscovitz and the Princess Diaries…but unfortunately, I don't. Sigh...

Author's note: Okay, I SWEAR I'm working on the next chapter of Insanity Is Contagious, but this is just a little piece of fluffy angst that I had to get out after reading the sample chapter of Princess in Waiting. Enjoy!

December 31st

My parents have turned into parrots.

"Michael," they keep saying, "Why don't you go outside and stop moping around the house? Go and get a tan."

Well, fine. I'm outside, on the beach, getting a tan, but I refuse to stop moping. The Constitution says that I can mope whenever I feel like it. And if it doesn't, then it should.

You know, I am NOT moping. Moping is for losers with nothing to do. I am BROODING. There's a difference. Look at Angel and Sydney Bristow on Alias. All they DO is brood. Well, in between saving the world from supernatural forces and secret terrorist organizations.

Although it is true that I have nothing to do here. I don't surf, I hate to shop, and as for staring at scantily clad girls…well, my thoughts are occupied by a 5'9'' vegan princess with blond hair and gray eyes that hasn't contacted me in what feels like a freaking decade.

Basically, I'm going through Mia withdrawal. I feel like a junkie who needs a hit. Badly.

This is ridiculous. I'm in paradise, surrounded by gorgeous girls in bikinis, and I'm thinking about a girl across an entire ocean.

But then again, this is the girl who kissed me senseless at the dance. This is the girl who I've been crazy about for at least a year, probably more. This is the girl that has possibly inspired almost all of my songs. I have a freaking right to brood!

Especially considering I've had no word from her at all.

Okay, see, at the dance, I was so thrilled to find out that Mia did care after all and with getting everything figured out-I kind of forgot to give Mia the number of my grandmother's place in Florida. And the castle that Mia's staying in doesn't have an Internet connection. She told me that a couple of months ago, when we were talking about her trip to Genovia.

Hey, YOU try to remember that stuff when the girl of your dreams is frying half the brain cells in your head by kissing you senseless while the entire school's staring. Not that easy.

And the next day she was on a plane to Genovia.

Okay, I'll admit it: I want to hear from Mia. I want to hear her complain about her crazy grandmother and freak out about her speech to her fellow countrymen-and countrywomen-countrypeople-whatever-

And I want to make sure that she hasn't fallen in love with some dashing, debonair, suave prince with millions of dollars.

Okay, okay, I know what you're all thinking. That Mia would never do something like this. And I know that you're right. Actually, I have no idea who I'm talking to, seeing as this journal's password protected and the only person who can get at it is me. Careful, Moscovitz, you're losing it…

Anyway, here are my New Year's Resolutions:

Figure out a way to contact Mia in Genovia. (Very IMPORTANT!!!!!!) Try to have a good time in Florida. (Easier said than done.) Figure out way to annoy Lilly. (Main form of entertainment.) Avoid crazy blond chick that's been hitting on you every chance she gets. (Sorry, Becky, but I'm taken.) Work on January issue of Crackhead! Figure out how to avoid being analyzed by your parents. (They think my pining over Mia is significant of suppressed issues that I'm refusing to deal with. Go figure.)

Damn, I wish Mia were here. Preferably in a bikini…

Okay, bad thought. Bad, bad, bad.

Or maybe it is okay. I mean, she is my girlfriend.

Right?

Of course she is.

Unless she just sees me as her best friend's annoying older brother whom she occasionally likes to send love notes and French kiss. I mean, we never really said flat-out where we were at this point.

Nah. Of course she doesn't see me as that.

Right?

Some people are giving me strange looks. What, you've never seen a guy tying into a laptop at the beach before?

Oh, crap. Becky's walking over here. The girl may be gorgeous, but her brain's the size of a Lego. And she's definitely in flirting mode…I'd run for it but she's already spotted me.

God, I'd do ANYTHING for a nice little apocalypse right now…