What the hell was he doing here.
There was nothing possibly more boring than this. At least outside, people
were talking. And it was somewhere, not where he was. Which was a
cathedral. The Gregorian chanters had just finished a round of mournful
Latin cries. They were now at the speeches part of the ceremony. Michael
just couldn't understand how Mia could stand doing this. He tried to
remember what he was doing when he went to events with Mia, when they were
dating. But soon stopped himself, knowing that he was going to end up in a
downward spiral of memories, times that he had to admit he wanted back.
They were just so carefree and in love.
What ever happened?
Now things were finishing up.that could have possibly been the longest three hours Michael had ever been through. Restricting himself from thoughts of Mia, he was forced to pay attention to all of the speakers. Noticing every move of their hands, every corrupt word that left their mouths. Most of these people wouldn't have cared. But in the name of globalization they went on. Would Mia ever turn out like this? Never. She was too honest of a person to become one of them. Why did he care? After today she'd be out of his life for good. Except he knew that was a lie. He always thought about Mia. At least once a day. He knew that he had it bad. He would pass a random something, and his mind would soon fill with a picture of her face. The face he loved to gaze into hopelessly.
Which is what he realized he was doing.
He turned quickly, so she wouldn't notice. Only to come face to face with a tall, slightly pudgy, well dressed man who was supporting himself on a cane, and oddly wearing a monocle. The man looked Michael over quickly then turned his attention over to Mia.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle." Mia was looking at a stained glass window and jumped in shock of being spoken to.
"Hi-er Borjour, Monsieur DeRalle. Comment-vous applez vous?" Mia quickly switched to French, while greeting the French ambassador to Genovia.
"Très bien, et toi?"
"Ca va bien, aussi."
"Ou est ton père?"
"Il est allé à la ceremonie en Italie."
"Oui? Je ne sais pas, quoi je ne savient pas."
"C'est Malheuresement."
"Dommage."
They continued their French small talk, while Michael looked on. She still showed signs of the Mia he knew, the nervous movement in her hands, the constant flipping of her hair. And yet, she had things slightly under her control. Why couldn't he be like her, and have moved on?
Once they ended their conversation, Mia and Michael linked arms, and walked towards the exit. Mia was explaining to Michael who the man was, and Michael listened and enjoyed the walk.he might as well, he would probably never be in this position again.
They made their exit, while being hit with twice as many flashes as before, there were so many voices all around Michael. TV reporters, talking to cameras. Journalists, talking to recorders. Maybe Mia wasn't so used to this, as he could feel her hand sweating, and shaking in his. In fact, she was looking a bit flushed, he decided to spare his and her lack of comfort, and rushed their walk to the limo. Mia soon realizing what Michael l was doing soon picked up the pace and they finally reached the car, in the next moment, the driver was slamming it shut.
Michael turned to Mia, who was attempting to calm herself down, and started doing what looked like breathing exercises. Michael soon realized that she was practically hyperventilating. "Mia, Mia, chill. Are you okay?"
"Y-y-yeah, fine. It's just.yeah."
"Care to elaborate?"
"No, yeah, no."
"Come again?"
"I'm screwed. I mean. Shit. That was barely any press, this is what happens to me over a funeral. What happens when I have to address a whole country? I used to be able to do this stuff.I'm free of this for a few years and I loose it. What the hell is wrong with me."
Mia began to fully sob at this point. Everything was too much for her.
"I can't do this."
"Damn it Mia! Why do you let yourself get stressed out like this? You can and have done it it, we both know that. Nothing is wrong with you. Just because you're a little shaky to start doesn't mean you should just breakdown over it."
Now Michael started getting emotional too, something he promised himself he wouldn't do. Why was he doing this? Why couldn't he just cut his losses and move on? Because he knew that he would always love Mia Thermopolis. He would always love the vegetarian in leather boots. The girl that was nice to everyone that returned the simple courtesy of being nice to her. And maybe Michael was a little to harsh with the way he just spoke; as Mia was sobbing harder than ever.
"Mia," Michael said, almost with a coo in his tone. "Don't cry." He said as he neared trying to comfort her. "Look, why don't you come in for a hot chocolate? And if you're lucky I'll let my parents analyze you and tell you what your problems are. You're practically family, I'm sure they won't charge you full." Michael said jokingly as he tried to lighten the mood.
"Michael you don't have to do this. Really."
"Mia, I'm just inviting you up for some hot cocoa and an mid-evening analysis. Did I mention that it's peppermint hot chocolate?"
"Ouch Michael, using my weakness, as a plot to get into my head are you? How devious."
"Would that be a yes?"
"Only if there are cookies to match."
"But of course." Michael said as he opened the door in front of the fifth avenue building.
"You've given me an offer I can't refuse." Mia said as she reached out for Michaels offered hand.
.It's been a while eh? Sorry. First pardon my French (I feel like I ripped that off of Ferris Bueller, I mean it as literally as possible though) it's not my language of choice-therefore I suck at it. And I could never update because one of my computers-the one with the finished story on it along with my 700 or so mp3's- had to be cleared out and formatted or some shit, then I had finals and it is not acceptable for IB students to fail finals. So after all that I forgot what I wrote, so uhh I changed the entire story. But I think it's a bit better this time 'round. Reviews are always nice. Hopefully the next chapter will be up in a day or so.if I ever get around to it. -cheers
What ever happened?
Now things were finishing up.that could have possibly been the longest three hours Michael had ever been through. Restricting himself from thoughts of Mia, he was forced to pay attention to all of the speakers. Noticing every move of their hands, every corrupt word that left their mouths. Most of these people wouldn't have cared. But in the name of globalization they went on. Would Mia ever turn out like this? Never. She was too honest of a person to become one of them. Why did he care? After today she'd be out of his life for good. Except he knew that was a lie. He always thought about Mia. At least once a day. He knew that he had it bad. He would pass a random something, and his mind would soon fill with a picture of her face. The face he loved to gaze into hopelessly.
Which is what he realized he was doing.
He turned quickly, so she wouldn't notice. Only to come face to face with a tall, slightly pudgy, well dressed man who was supporting himself on a cane, and oddly wearing a monocle. The man looked Michael over quickly then turned his attention over to Mia.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle." Mia was looking at a stained glass window and jumped in shock of being spoken to.
"Hi-er Borjour, Monsieur DeRalle. Comment-vous applez vous?" Mia quickly switched to French, while greeting the French ambassador to Genovia.
"Très bien, et toi?"
"Ca va bien, aussi."
"Ou est ton père?"
"Il est allé à la ceremonie en Italie."
"Oui? Je ne sais pas, quoi je ne savient pas."
"C'est Malheuresement."
"Dommage."
They continued their French small talk, while Michael looked on. She still showed signs of the Mia he knew, the nervous movement in her hands, the constant flipping of her hair. And yet, she had things slightly under her control. Why couldn't he be like her, and have moved on?
Once they ended their conversation, Mia and Michael linked arms, and walked towards the exit. Mia was explaining to Michael who the man was, and Michael listened and enjoyed the walk.he might as well, he would probably never be in this position again.
They made their exit, while being hit with twice as many flashes as before, there were so many voices all around Michael. TV reporters, talking to cameras. Journalists, talking to recorders. Maybe Mia wasn't so used to this, as he could feel her hand sweating, and shaking in his. In fact, she was looking a bit flushed, he decided to spare his and her lack of comfort, and rushed their walk to the limo. Mia soon realizing what Michael l was doing soon picked up the pace and they finally reached the car, in the next moment, the driver was slamming it shut.
Michael turned to Mia, who was attempting to calm herself down, and started doing what looked like breathing exercises. Michael soon realized that she was practically hyperventilating. "Mia, Mia, chill. Are you okay?"
"Y-y-yeah, fine. It's just.yeah."
"Care to elaborate?"
"No, yeah, no."
"Come again?"
"I'm screwed. I mean. Shit. That was barely any press, this is what happens to me over a funeral. What happens when I have to address a whole country? I used to be able to do this stuff.I'm free of this for a few years and I loose it. What the hell is wrong with me."
Mia began to fully sob at this point. Everything was too much for her.
"I can't do this."
"Damn it Mia! Why do you let yourself get stressed out like this? You can and have done it it, we both know that. Nothing is wrong with you. Just because you're a little shaky to start doesn't mean you should just breakdown over it."
Now Michael started getting emotional too, something he promised himself he wouldn't do. Why was he doing this? Why couldn't he just cut his losses and move on? Because he knew that he would always love Mia Thermopolis. He would always love the vegetarian in leather boots. The girl that was nice to everyone that returned the simple courtesy of being nice to her. And maybe Michael was a little to harsh with the way he just spoke; as Mia was sobbing harder than ever.
"Mia," Michael said, almost with a coo in his tone. "Don't cry." He said as he neared trying to comfort her. "Look, why don't you come in for a hot chocolate? And if you're lucky I'll let my parents analyze you and tell you what your problems are. You're practically family, I'm sure they won't charge you full." Michael said jokingly as he tried to lighten the mood.
"Michael you don't have to do this. Really."
"Mia, I'm just inviting you up for some hot cocoa and an mid-evening analysis. Did I mention that it's peppermint hot chocolate?"
"Ouch Michael, using my weakness, as a plot to get into my head are you? How devious."
"Would that be a yes?"
"Only if there are cookies to match."
"But of course." Michael said as he opened the door in front of the fifth avenue building.
"You've given me an offer I can't refuse." Mia said as she reached out for Michaels offered hand.
.It's been a while eh? Sorry. First pardon my French (I feel like I ripped that off of Ferris Bueller, I mean it as literally as possible though) it's not my language of choice-therefore I suck at it. And I could never update because one of my computers-the one with the finished story on it along with my 700 or so mp3's- had to be cleared out and formatted or some shit, then I had finals and it is not acceptable for IB students to fail finals. So after all that I forgot what I wrote, so uhh I changed the entire story. But I think it's a bit better this time 'round. Reviews are always nice. Hopefully the next chapter will be up in a day or so.if I ever get around to it. -cheers