Alright, so first, answering your questions - will this lead to Forever Princess or The Summer Princess? - The Summer Princess. This fic already mentions events happening to Mia in her seasons fics, so it would be confusing to just follow the canon all of a sudden. Besides, I have no idea what to write about Michael's life for more than a year. I am already struggling with six months! Moreover, I take on writing fics because something in canon annoys me and I want to do it my way. Like, for example, I hate Mia dating JP for two years (seriously? Isn't she a self-proclaimed feminist?) or the whole Michael was abstinent while in Japan (why would he be? Really? He is a person, and I often find that in books he is written solely as Mia's Perfect Boyfriend. Well, he is a human being in my head and his life is not just Mia Besides, he is way more awesome than Mia perceives him to be.), the way Rene and Sebastiano are treated in later books, not to mention how Michael and Mia get together in Book 10. That's why I am writing fics, to make my vision a reality. So, it is highly unlikely I will write Book 10 from Michael's point of view. Sorry! But there are other Michael POV fics, rewrites of original series :)

Second, thanks for liking Renata! And thank you for liking everything else as well! ;) Your reviews always make me go squee.

Third - ok, so this chapter. It will probably seem a bit meh to y'all, but since I love writing about Mia's cousins (those of you who have been reading my fics for a while might have noticed...) I HAD TO include them in this as well. They have their own way of looking over Mia, and they are all very supportive of Michael, o this is how it started ... :) Yeah, I am probably the only one liking this, but, hey! Besides, I wanted to write about Michael's Christmas and I didn't feel like it belonged in the previous chapter, and I also can't just cheat and write about Christmas in January update. So that is why I am posting this as a more or less filler chapter. AND I need to get some sleep before I can really continue.

So, more later, when I get some sleep!

I love you all, you are so totally awesome! And keep me in your thoughts now that my future writing career might be at stake.

Best, w.

DECEMBER

(2)

I spent the Christmas evening alone, but I didn't feel lonely. Despite being the only one in the apartment, despite the sound of my steps echoing, despite cooking only for myself, I was happy. It was a nice surprise, feeling so joyous after the emotional devastation of first few weeks in Japan. I didn't even know what the reason was. My family, my love and I were on three different continents. The heating system was broken and I was wearing three sweaters and a coat on top, with a scarf wrapped round my neck. My laptop was acting up, and while fixing it I managed to forget about the pasta I was making, thus overcooking it. And yet I was happy.

My inbox was flooded with Christmas greetings from pretty much everyone I had ever been in some sort of a contact with. My extended family, my former band mates, people from high school, college, my college professors, Judith, Mia. Mia added a top 10 of her favorite Christmas songs, as if knowing I needed some music in my apartment, in my life again. Many of them were sung by Mia's beloved teenage pop starts, a type of music I was always avoiding at all costs, but this time I sang along anyway.

I didn't hesitate to answer her email this time around. I replied with a video of cats singing Merry Christmas. She might have seen it already, but I hoped it would still make her smile.

On Christmas day every website I clicked on notified me that the Princess of Genovia was suffering from an undisclosed medical issue and would be unable to attend the pre-announced Christmas events all over Genovia. The internet home of Genovian Royal Family quickly featured an app where people could wish the young princess speedy recovery from, as the royal press team for some unknown reason felt was necessary to reveal, appendicitis.

I sent her good wishes both using the app and her personal email. I figured she would respond promptly, since being bedridden doesn't offer you much alternatives as to how to spend your days – I had appendicitis in the eighth grade, I should know -, but to my surprise, I didn't hear from her for days. They dragged like eternity. Even more surprised I was when I saw 'thank you' was all that the email said. Every time she was ill, Mia had a habit of pertaining her symptoms to diseases she found in online medical dictionaries, no matter how impossible the diseases were. There was no description of what Grandmere was thinking of Mia missing days of royal duties – even if it was appendicitis, dear Clarisse probably found it to be a cheap excuse to avoid royal functions, I was sure. I mean, this was a woman that spent her wedding day dancing till early morning with fever that would put anyone else in a hospital bed. If, of course, that story wasn't made up as I suspected many she kept telling Mia were.

Instead of a typical 'Mia ill' rant, I got a long ode to Tuscany. I guessed she watched that movie - again, but something still didn't add up. I didn't ask her about it, though. I figured she would tell me when she was ready – if she even wanted me to know. I was lucky enough as it was for staying in touch with her after the breakdown in that hotel room.

A phone ringing woke me up in early morning hours of the last day of the year. I wasn't alarmed at someone calling at four in the morning – I figured it was Mom, as always miscalculating the time difference between New York and Japan. I tried to explain it to her every time, I even suggested I would be the calling from then on – it was impossible to reach me when I was not in the apartment, with working insane hours and returning to the apartment only for sleep -, but Mom didn't want to hear about it. She insisted she and Dad would be calling me. As a son of two psychiatrists I guessed it was a way to remain in some sort of control of my, their child's life. Or they might worry about my phone bill, I don't know. The scholarship I was receiving was more than enough to cover costs of international calls.

"Hello," I said, convinced I would be greeted by Mom's cheerful voice. Instead, all I got was silence. Well, silence. I thought I heard someone whispering something, but it might only been my tired ears.

"Hello?" I repeated again, this time slightly worried.

"Happy birthday to you, happy bir…" someone started singing with a thick French accent, but the song was interrupted by a rather feminine scream and a sound of something falling to the ground. By the ouch that followed one might even guess somebody fell off the chair, I don't know. All I knew was that it was a prank call, at four in the morning. As if I didn't need to be back in the lab by eight.

Well, technically, my working day didn't start until nine, but I liked getting there early.

"Well, hello," some other voice said, this time it had English accent. Apparently groups prank calling were nowadays international. "Is this dating agency Mandy? Have I reached Mrs. Böhler of Mandy Dating Agency? I would like to speak with Mrs. Böhler regarding registration. I mean representation. No – I mean, I want you to find me a date. Someone not very tall. Or blond. And she must like polo. And meat. And I don't want her to have a cat. Hello? Is someone there?"

Dating Agency Mandy? Seriously?

"Böhler? Are you ser?" the first, the French voice spoke again, but words didn't sound like French to me. I fact, I thought I had heard the voice and the name before. I just couldn't remember where.

"I told you he's still pining for her," a new, this time rather drunkenly sounding, voice said. Before I could ask what the fuck he was talking about, the call ended.

I knew I shouldn't think much about it, it was just a prank call. I should just go back to that little precious sleep I was getting these days.

But something kept bugging me. I definitely recognized one of the voices, and I was certain I had heard that name Böhler before. Finally I got up and turned on my laptop. I couldn't do anything about the voice, but I could google the name.

It turned out it was a name of a German model. The same German model that was until very recently dating a certain Prince, the prince that was only weeks ago photographed crashing into the fountain while playing a late-night badminton with none other than Mia, my Mia.

What the fuck?

Of course, they spoke French in Genovia. That explained the second accent. And the word I didn't understand, didn't Mia's cousin, the designer one, always forget to say words in full, butchering them in the process?

Why would anyone close to Mia call me, pretending to be calling a dating agency Mandy?

And what did that remark in the end mean?

Yeah, I 'was still pining for her', but why would anyone in Genovia care about it? All of them were happy to see me gone.

Then the possibly explanation struck me. Fuck! Was this a reporter calling, planning on reporting how I got royally flushed? Frankly, I was surprised nobody from Post or Us Weekly had called me yet, trying to get my perspective of the breakup, but I guess nobody cares about the commoner's words, even in breakup.

I hoped they still didn't. I kept checking news in the upcoming days, even googling myself, something I had never, ever done, praying not to see headlines pertaining to my broken heart or something equally cheesy. I didn't want my name to be in the tabloids, I tolerated it when I had been with Mia, but now I really didn't want to read about my naiveté, or how I got what had been heading to all along.

There were no news reports on me. Whoever was so desperate to reach Mandy the Dating Service, wasn't apparently a reporter.

The New Year's Eve, though, I did not spend all by myself. Midori and her boyfriend threw a big party in their apartment, inviting me and the rest of the team. Somehow somebody found out I played the guitar, so instead of listening to a Christmas soundtrack, I was taking care of the live music. I hadn't played for anyone in such a long time, it was a welcomed déjà vu. When I ran out of Christmas carols, I started over. By the time midnight arrived, I was our team's champion in both music and playing video games. Midori also taught me how to mix a couple of cocktails. I wasn't sure how I'd use the knowledge, since I stopped drinking – excessively, at least – after Renata left.

We counted down the last seconds of the year. I raised my glass, wishing only one thing – for the New Year to give me back what the old one had so abruptly and cruelly taken away. Everything else would come to me and some or other way.

And something inside me told me that somehow, somehow everything would be alright.

To Be Continued.

Broughttoyouby:::winter.