Hey everyone, thanks for all your reviews! Wow, I am so happy to hear y'all like the story! :D

Here's the next chapter, hope you'll like it.

Enjoy and review,

love, w

June 7th, a very, very comfortable and very, very nicely smelling bed, I assume it's Michael's, 3 am

He didn't scream at me when he saw it was me knocking.

He totally listened to my insane rant and even tried to calm me down.

He lent me his t shirt.

He ordered food for me.

And now he lets me sleep in his bed.

And he respects my need to have my diary nearby at all times in case something so traumatic happens that I need to write it down as soon as possible. He totally put it on the night stand by the bed.

Oh, and did I mention that he had to carry me to the bed? Because I fell asleep behind the table while waiting for him to return with food? Yes, I totally did. Because, I mean, when it rains, it pours.

I guess sleep is more mandatory than food.

I don't even remember it. Him lifting me up and carrying me to bed, I mean. The last thing I can recall is yawning and looking around the kitchen. Then … just dark.

Imagine my surprise when I opened my eyes a few minutes ago and the first thing I sensed was … the smell … and for a second everything felt so … heavenly ...

Well, until the pain hit.

My head hurts. Really hurts. I feel like it might explode.

Hello, aneurysm if this is you, you are a bit late, I could use your services a while ago.

And I feel sick. This is what starvation feels like, I guess.

God, thinking of food is actually making me feel even worse. Like I am gonna be sick.

I better go take some meds.

Ha. Given my knowledge of Japanese I might take cyanide instead of painkillers.

Well, I guess I could wake Michael.

Maybe he's still up.

Well, he probably is if he's not in bed.

OH MY GOD I AM IN MICHAEL'S BED.

June 7th, back in Michael's bed, 3:10

Well, of course he wasn't up. I mean, it is 3 in the morning.

That's not the worst thing.

Since I took his bed (involuntarily. I mean, I just ended up here, without even being asked if I wanted.) he had no other choice but to sleep on the couch.

I feel so bad.

I'll just sneak into the bathroom and look for some meds. And hopefully take something that won't kill me.

God I'm silly. Why would Michael even keep cyanide in his medicine cabinet?

June 7th, Michael's bathroom, 3:15

What the hell am I doing? Do I really learn nothing from experience?

HOW DID I MANAGE TO FORGET WHAT HAPPENED THE LAST TIME I OPENED MICHAEL'S MEDICINE CABINET?

WHAT I FOUND THERE?

Ok, I am not fifteen anymore and finding condoms doesn't freak me out. That much, at least.

Besides, he is single. I broke up with him.

He can keep condoms in his medicine cabinet if he wants to.

Oh god. I KNEW he had a girlfriend. I mean, come on! He is way too hot to be single!

I am so not opening that thing.

June 7th, Michael's bathroom, 3:20

I opened that thing.

No condoms.

And no, I didn't specifically look for those. I just noticed while looking for something that resembled painkillers…

God, who am I kidding?

Why can't I behave like a mature woman?

I don't know why I am surprised but Michael speaks Japanese. He must; I mean, EVERY SINGLE MEDICINE IS IN JAPANESE.

I will just wet a towel and put it on my forehead. I heard this totally helps. I remember when…

June 7th, Michael's bed, 6 am

"Mia? What's wrong?" Michael's sleepy voice said.

I didn't hear him near me so his voice came as a complete shock. I jumped up, might have squeaked a bit and definitely dropped the medicine I was holding into the washbasin

I wanted to say that everything was fine but … hello, it was in the middle of the night and I was going through his medicine cabinet.

Then I realized what he must have been thinking.

"I promise I wasn't snooping! And I didn't mean to wake you up, I am so sorry! I was just looking for some medicine! I mean, my head hurts and I don't understand anything on these…"

How come I am totally incapable of talking normally when he's around?

He stepped closer to me, took the medicine out of the washbasin, put it back into the cabinet and took out another box. Then he looked straight into my eyes and I felt my face turning red (really, is there any aspect of this trip that hasn't turned into a complete disaster yet? Oh, wait, it is – at least his girlfriend didn't open the door. I guess I have something to be thankful for).

"I mean…" I stared but I guess he realized another flood was about to come out of my mouth.

"It's fine, Mia. I'll make you some tea. Go back to bed."

"Yeah, about that…"

"I'll be right there," he totally dismissed me, turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

Really – what is going on? Has my aneurysm finally raptured and this is coma? Comatose state where your ex-boyfriend is making you tea is so much better than being wide awake and anywhere near Grandmere.

I hope I never wake up.

Oh, god, no, this is bad! If I really am in vegetative state, please, donate my organs!

Whether I wanted or not, I slowly dragged myself back to Michael's room and lay down. I turned on the light on the night stand, looking at the picture he had there. The Moscovitz family in their best human behavior was smiling at me.

There were no other pictures. No pictures of any girl that might be his girlfriend

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I mean, yeah, I love him but I shouldn't be wishing he was single! I mean, we are OVER. DONE. He has every right to date. So do I, only that I decided not to. But since Michael didn't single-handedly demolish our relationship, he didn't have any reason to be stuck in the past, unable to forgive himself. He totally could date. He totally should date.

GET OVER IT, MIA. THERE IS NO WAY YOU AND MICHAEL WILL EVER GET TOGETHER AGAIN. NO RATIONAL GUY, ESPECIALLY SOMEONE LIKE MICHAEL WHO IS A GENIUS, WOULD WANT TRY AGAIN AFTER TORNADO MIA!

Though, geniuses are kind of crazy and irrational sometimes. Just look at my Mum - she is a genius when it comes to painting but is rather incapable of everyday life since she still didn't stop stuffing bills into the salad bowl. Or Lilly – she has an IQ of 170 yet sometimes she is completely irrational (who plays strip bowling during formal events? Who hooks up with a Sherpa from Nepal in her best friend's closet during said friend's birthday party? And who makes the same best friend drop vegetable from 16th floor?). Or even Boris – he might be a wonder child with the violin but he is still incapable of dressing accordingly to American standards. And I am not saying that I am a fashion freak or something – WE JUST DO NOT TUCK SWEATERS INTO PANTS IN AMERICA.

Michael walked in, holding a cup.

"Here, drink this, it will make you feel better," he said and was it just me or did a trace of a smile appear on his face as our fingers touched when I took the cup?

Yeah, it was just me. He probably wanted to say STOP TOUCHING ME and I misinterpreted it.

"You don't have to sleep on a couch," I said and I think this was my first rational statement since I got here. Yay for me – is my mental health actually improving? "I'll be perfectly fine sleeping on a couch. I mean, it is your bed and I am just visiting and I wasn't even invi…"

"It is not up for discussion so you might as well just drop the subject."

What was he talking about? Was he the one with aneurysm that erased the memory of September?

"Michael, it is not fair…"

"So what's up with all the Britney shirts?" he said, completely ignoring me.

I raised my eyebrows as at first I really had no idea what he was talking about. Then I remembered If U Seek Amy and I guess I looked like someone poured tomato sauce all over me again.

"Oh, it's something Sebastiano is working on. You remember Sebastiano?"

I thought he'd say he had no idea who he was but to my surprise he immediately said that he was my fashion designer cousin.

"Yeah … Well, now he wants to do a line of t shirts with Britney lyrics written on."

"Interesting."

"I guess. Actually, he wanted to do a line of Halloween customs at first. He went to Las Vegas with Harry and Rene last year and got totally inspired. He already made his version of the Smurfs, Miley Cyrus and the vampires but then Grandmere totally freaked out because, according to her, people who dress the princess do not design pagan-ritual-related clothing that is covered with fake blood or whatever. He was crushed for a while but then he got the idea to modernize the National Costumes of countries from all over the world. During spring break, he dragged me to Switzerland where we were learning about theirs."

"And what did Dowager Princess Clarisse say that killed his enthusiasm?"

"She didn't like the way he modernized Norway."

"Norway? What does she have to do with Norway?"

"Just a certain very wealthy and apparently stupid banker. She has totally been trying to smitten him for months now."

"I take it she hasn't changed much."

"No … still wearing purple and traumatizing me on daily bases. And Rommel still has OCD. She is still dressing him in little sweaters and since Gucci finally started making custom shoes for Rommel, her world is finally complete Well, minus the Norwegian banker ignoring her and her granddaughter turning out to be the worst princess ever."

"I have trouble believing she is that bad."

"Grandmere? I haven't told you the worst of it! She's a nightmare!"

"No; well, she too, but I meant the princess."

Sorry? Had we just met?

The proof was right there; I started at him with my mouth open, something that princesses never ever do according to Grandmere.

Though ... I mean, Grandmere is not really a master of people skills. She doesn't oppose breaking people's hearts when it suits her.

"You're kidding, right? Michael, it's ME! I am even incapable of catching the train – and I am supposed to rule a COUNTRY one day?!"

"I don't think you'll have to be a ruler now that Genovia has democracy."

"You mean, thank god for Princess Amelie? She must have been psychic or something and saw the disaster by the name of Princess Mia threatening to rule sometime in the future so she declared democracy, knowing it's the only way to stop a said disaster from happening."

"No, I meant thank god for Princess Mia who was brave enough to finish what Princess Amelie started so long ago."

What was he talking about?

"Well, you're in minority with that thinking," I said.

"You did the right thing, Mia. Don't let Grandmere or anyone else convince you otherwise. You did the right thing."

Yes, he has aneurysm. Should I call 911?

I don't even know what number that is here in Japan.

"You do realize that democracy means elections, right? Dad will have to run for the position just like anyone else. It will crush him if he doesn't win and it will be all my fault."

"Genovians love your father and know how much he has done for them. Of course they will elect him, Mia. You'll see. Now finish your tea."

What was happening? Why did I just tell him all this? I never spoke to anyone about that. Why did I have to pick him from all people? It wasn't like he cared or was interested. I didn't come all the way to Japan, with all the detours to whine about my life.

I came to apologize for hurting him.

"Listen, Michael, I…" I started but he interrupted me once again.

"We'll talk in the morning. Finish your tea, it will make your head feel better."

I looked down to the cup in my hands.

"Funny, I thought Japanese tea was supposed to be bitter," I smiled.

"I might be living here but I am primarily used to American food."

"So still no baby squids for you?" I asked and handed him the empty cup. Michael laughed and started telling me about cultural difference between Japan and America. I lay down, closing my eyes and felt the pain in my head subsiding. At first I was laughing, commenting and asking him to tell more (oh my god. What was I thinking? This isn't a social visit! Why do I keep acting like this? Oh, right, because I am high on meds. If this explanation makes you feel better, Mia) but eventually I only listened. One moment he was talking about the recycling process and how seriously they are taking it here and in the next …

Well, I don't know, I think I fell asleep. Again.

Now I am awake again and my whole body hurts. And I am so tired.

No surprise there, I shouldn't stay up half the night writing in my diary.

But … how could he say all those things about me? I mean, from all people, he should know what a terrible person I am.

I am too tired to think about this any longer.

June 7th, Michael's bed, 1 pm

My head still hurts.

Now I have fever.

I am sick.

And I am still at Michael's.

I woke up at around 10 and I felt worse, way worse than before. It was so bad that I felt the room spinning.

I got up with the speed of a really old lady. Every muscle in my body hurt and walking towards the kitchen where I presumed Michael was turned out to be big challenge. I totally had to lean on the walls otherwise I think I would have fallen over.

I don't remember ever feeling so bad.

Physically speaking, I mean.

I was right, Michael really was in the kitchen, sitting behind a table and typing on his laptop.

He looked up.

"Hey, morning," he smiled at me, "your head feeling better?"

I opened my mouth to say that he didn't have to stay in the flat just because I was here – he should totally go to the lab or wherever he was working on his robotic arm – but no words came out because suddenly the room around me just …. Well, spun. My legs became all weak like they were made of jelly or something and I felt my body leaning and gravity winning …

And I was too tired to do anything about it.

I would have fallen directly onto to floor, possibly cracking my head open if Michael's arms didn't stop the fall.

What was I saying again, about not being a damsel in distress any longer?

"Whoa, Mia," he said and there was concern in his eyes again (yes, I am mentally unstable and yes, I do seek professional help on regular bases). He touched my forehead. His hand felt so cold against my skin I didn't want him to move it. "Jesus, you're burning up."

"I'm fine…"

"No, you're not."

And he lifted me up and I tried to push him away and I was totally hitting the air unable to aim properly because EVERYTHING around me was spinning. He didn't even twitch. I started protesting but he didn't listen.

So now I am back in bed and I feel so bad that I might actually die.

And all I can think is –

WHY?

Why is this happening to me?

June 7th, Michael's bed, 2 pm

He didn't go to the laboratory. He stayed in his flat the whole morning, making me tea and asking if I was feeling better

And every time I wanted to protest or say something other than 'thanks', 'it still hurts', 'I feel a bit better', he just changed the subject.

Is this inquisition? It feels like it.

June 7th, Michael's bed, 4 pm

A doorbell just rang. I hear Michael's voice but I don't understand what he's saying since he's talking in Japanese.

The room hasn't spun for a while; I think I might be feeling well enough to go see who it is.

June 7th, Michael's bathroom, 4:10

I knew it. I totally knew it.

So why do I feel so shocked and hurt?

And she is soooo pretty. She looks adorable in a mini skirt.

When I put on a mini skirt, all I look like is a tooth-picker.

And that's AFTER Paolo's magic.

Oh my god, Michael's knocking. WHY CAN'T HE LEAVE ME ALONE? I AM HAVING A CRISIS!

I am not sure if I will be able not to cry when I see him.

Humanity is totally capable of sending men to the Moon. And to Mars, with the exception of bringing them back.

So how come we are still unable to make a girl fall out of love with a boy?

Science, you suck.

To Be Continued.

Broughttoyouby:::winter.