[A/N: Oh man. I got on the computer the day after uploading the last chapter and I was all, "Man! Big rush of reviews!" It isn't a lot, compared to a lot of other stories, but I love each and every one of them the same. Your feedback makes me smile, and this last bunch topped it all off. And I'm glad to see that I'm actually on your guys' author alert lists. Very thrilling. Teehee. Keep on reviewing, though. They're fun to read. They really are.
This isn't a happy-fluffy chapter (and it'll be the same with the next one), but it's all necessary. You'll see.]
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Mia's POV
I fumbled through my purse, looking for my keys to the apartment.
"Crap," I muttered, when I realized that I must've set them down somewhere else.
"What's the matter?" Conor asked, a look of concern spreading over his face.
"Nothing."
He grabbed me from behind, wrapping me in a hug. "You sure?"
I mock-pouted. "No. I lost my keys and I'll probably have to go down to the office to get a spare set. The old guy in charge hates my guts; he thought I brought too much publicity into the complex back in the day. And he just seems to hate the younger generation for no reason at all. I'm just really tired today…"
"You want to come over to my place? We can order out some Chinese and watch some movies," he suggested, almost pleadingly. Almost mischievously.
I was highly tempted, but stood my ground. "Nah. Renee'll be back soon, and I'll see you tomorrow, anyways. We have a busy morning tomorrow, remember? And like I said, I'm tired. Oh, and I promised Grandmère that I'd give her a call and catch up on some Genovian issues." I groaned at the last task at hand. "I'm sorry, forgive me, all right?"
He tousled my hair. "Your wish is my command. Give me a call tonight, will you?"
I smiled, and twisted around to face him. Slowly closing my eyes, I leaned in and gave him a kiss. "Take that as a 'yes'," I told him when I backed away.
He bowed with a flourish, like a medieval prince (no irony intended), and headed out the door. I rummaged through my purse one last time, and with no luck finding my keys, I set off on a not-so-glorious trip over to the maintenance office.
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Michael's POV
I was a mess. Literally.
Everything seemed so screwed, so disjointed, and I ran towards the subway station like an inhabitant from an insane asylum. My hair was tousled, my papers close to flying out of its folder, and my breath was ragged. Was I turning absolutely crazy, or was that woman really Mia?
Mia Thermopolis?
My Mia Thermopolis, the Genovian princess who had always complained about her flat chest?
There would only be one way to find out.
Dodging little kids, old women, and hasty businessmen, I ran. I ran like no computer guy would ever be expected to run. I ran for Mia.
I spotted her and her friend (her boyfriend?) waiting at the first subway stop, and arrived at the gate just as the train came to a shuddering stop before them. I searched my pocket for the fare, and coming up with a fistful of pennies, I crammed it all in and leapt forward.
The subway train was about to depart, and I flew into the car as the doors were shutting. Gratefully throwing myself into a seat by the door, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and waited until my breathing grew back to normal before looking up at the other passengers.
There she sat, at the other end of the car.
I tilted my head to the side, practically squinting, and bore my eyes into her. She had flowing brown hair, a tangle of messy strands that somehow appeared to be perfect. She had large, hopeful eyes that glittered every second of the journey. Her crimson lips twisted into a sly smile, and there was no doubt that this was the smile that I had fallen in love with from an early age.
The man that sat next to her, weaving his fingers through hers, nuzzled her shoulder, and whispered something into her ear, and she laughed. It was a musical, but somehow skittery, laugh. The laugh wasn't exactly the same; it seemed to have been worn down and hardened. It was almost nervous, but pure, nonetheless.
There was no doubt in my mind that she was Mia.
And to further prove my point, she had been wearing the necklace. It was beyond simple, but it sparkled even to this day. It was beyond simple, yet it was unique. It was one-of-a-kind for her, and all the puzzle pieces clicked into place.
I restrained myself from jumping forward and shoving the other guy aside. I clenched my fists, trying to forget about all of the impulsive feelings that were building up inside of me. 'Chill, Moscovitz. Take it one step at a time,' I attempted to persuade myself. 'You've stayed patient for so long, try and hold it in for a little longer.'
I breathed in and out, in and out. 'And,' the rational side of me argued, 'there's no guarantee that she'll want you back.' Spoiling my fun. Spoiling my hope.
But I wanted her back. I wanted to be with her more than anything. Wasn't that enough?
The two got off at the fourth stop, and I quietly followed, only able to watch her from afar. I felt almost out-of-place as I followed her footsteps, and stopped altogether when she entered an apartment complex a few blocks from the station.
Hesitantly, I stood outside the large glass doors, leaning against the textured brick wall. I shoved my hands in my pockets, and looked towards the sky for a few seconds. This was really where I belonged. In New York. Near Mia. Like the way things were supposed to be. No doubt about it. I sucked in another deep breath. In and out. Oh man, Moscovitz. What're you going to do now, kid, huh? As the seconds ticked by, I kicked a pebble around, wondering what to make my next move.
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Mia's POV
It was funny how I had not noticed the drop in temperature while I had walked home with Conor. But now, as I shuffled out the door, ready to walk over to the little brick house across the street, I shivered instinctively, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to keep me warm. 'I'm so stupid,' I thought to myself. 'Renee's going to really laugh at me this time…'
Nobody else was outside, except for a young man, classily dressed in khakis and a button down shirt underneath his dark jacket. He was hesitantly leaning against the building, looking down at the ground, and his hands were inside his pockets, in an almost innocent fashion; but in reality, he looked out of place. I wondered if he was lost. I glanced at him sideways, taking in his messy hair and distinct figure. He was cute, no doubt about it, and I almost thought it to be a pity that I had Conor.
"Are you looking for someone?" I asked cheerily, and a wave of philanthropic emotion swept over me. 'I'll help him out and then see if I can go get my keys,' I decided.
The man looked up and stared at me, the neutral look on his face transforming into bewilderment. He furrowed his eyebrows, and gazed up at me, almost unsure of if he was really seeing me or not.
"Mia?"
Everything came rushing at me, the memories slapping me across the face. I searched his face, slowly at first, and then took a quick step back as everything settled into place.
I had only heard one word, my name, spoken by that voice, but the tones had instantly been engraved in my mind. No, that wasn't right. I had heard those exact pitches many times in my life. Much too many times before.
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Michael's POV
My voice was strangely hoarse. "Mia?" I stuttered in a strangled whisper, then felt myself blush as I clapped my hand over my mouth. Moscovitz, you're damn retarded.
She hesitantly stepped back, but the entire time, she was giving me a probing look. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I pointlessly held them in front of me and looked her straight in the eye. I made sure she could never forget who I was.
"Oh my God," she whispered, wringing her hands together, her own voice equally strangled. She slowly cocked her head to the side and I could tell at that instant that her heart rate had skipped a few beats. As was mine.
I helplessly stood where I was.
She bit her lip, her eyes no longer able to meet mine. The nervous expression, the look of being caught red-handed… it was all too familiar. She finally looked up at me, observing the features of my face again, and whispered, "Michael?"
I laughed bitterly, almost forcedly. "Oui." French, Moscovitz, French? What the crap is the matter with you?
"Michael…" She gulped, her eyes growing rounder and rounder, her cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. "Michael!"
"It's been a long time," I muttered under my breath. Nice move, Moscovitz, nice move.
She stood, absolutely mute, but her face reflected a palette of emotions: shock, distraught, disbelief. She seemed like she wanted to smile, to whoop out in joy, but her stronger and more serious side held her back. She stood, her face dangerously clouding over with emotions.
"You want to talk? Go out for some drinks?"
Mia nodded, hesitantly accepting the offer. I stuck my arm out so that she could take it, but she looked away and merely led me to a nearby café.
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