Falling Away
Chapter Seven: we hope your rules and wisdom choke you
A/N: You guys are so sweet! Thank you so much for your reviews and I'm glad that some of you really love this story. It's really fun writing it and I'm happy that it's enjoyable to read. I hope you like this chapter! =D
This chapter is painfully worse than the last. So consider yourself warned.
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She felt someone breathing on her neck. She was alarmed until the person behind her spoke. "How'd you like the show?" Mia closed her eyes before turning around, straight into the face of her ex-boyfriend, Michael Moscovitz. His dark brown eyes were warm and friendly, his hair flopping onto his eyes. She was standing at the entrance of the club while Adam went to go get them both drinks.
"Oh, my God!" screamed a young, dark-haired girl. "Can I take a picture with you, Michael?!" He smiled at the girl and nodded. The girl wrinkled her nose at Mia, as if she couldn't believe that someone as godlike as Michael could talk to someone that looked like such a nonentity as Mia. "Do you mind?" The girl said cattily, shoving the camera into Mia's hands. Mia looked bemused for a second but nodded anyway.
"Okay…Um. Cheese." Michael wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulder and felt that she was shaking. He found this oddly humorous, because he wasn't aware how he could make any girl nervous. Mia took the photo and gave the camera back to the girl.
"Thanks, Michael!" she said sweetly. Mia could've sworn that she saw the girl pinch Michael's ass before walking away cheerfully. Michael stifled a laugh and smiled at Mia, who smiled back. "It was really good," Mia said. "You were really good." She added before she could stop herself. She felt her cheeks turn pink as she looked down at the ground. She saw Michael's fingers drumming along his sides.
"Thanks," Michael said. "So…"
"Yeah."
"Isn't it weird? I mean, we don't see each other for six years and now we're seeing each other more than once a week," Michael said, his head tilted. "So, anyway, where's Adam?" Mia looked up, though not looking Michael in the eye. Even after all of these years, he still made her feel as nervous as ever.
"Oh, he's just getting us some drinks," Mia said, blinking. Michael nodded his head.
"Well, uh, I'm going to go backstage, I guess," Michael said. After a moment of silence, he leaned forward. Mia eyes widened in confusion as she wondered if Michael was about to kiss her. Instead, he stopped a mere half-inch away from her ear and whispered, "I like your necklace." With one last small grin, he turned around and walked toward the stage. Mia looked down and the snowflake necklace glimmered up at her. She fingered it, watching Michael's head.
He remembered.
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To: Tina Pelkowski iluvboris42earthlink.net
From: Lilly Moscovitz lillyandthewallhotmail.com
Re: Guess who's back…
I don't know if you've heard yet, but guess who's back? None other than the two lovebirds themselves: Michael and Mia! Michael is, believe it or not, more annoying now than he was a year ago. Seriously. Fame can really go to some people's heads. It's not like he's that famous anyway. I mean, sold out venues are nothing these days. Plus, their whole album is so…not good. Did you buy their CD? I know I told you to get it and mock it but now I think that it'd be better if you never purchase it so you don't aid their album sales.
I talked with "Princess Amelia" last week and, honestly, I think I may have been a bit too harsh on her. And she acted like she didn't even know that Michael is in this stupid, famous (but crappy) band. No, she seemed really surprised to see me but I guess it was a rather random visit. I'm supposed to be her best friend but she didn't call me for a year! How am I supposed to feel?!
Lilly
P.S. How's Boris?
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"We should write about something other than love," Max said, his nose wrinkled. Michael looked at him in disbelief. The members of Mission for Recognition sat lazily in their grand suite, feasting on takeout from Number One Noodle Son. Kristen conversed with Shayne about Manic Panic hair dye while David sat in a corner, reading a best seller while occasionally eating some chow mein or sipping his chai latte.
"Max! Think about it. Almost all songs are about love," Michael said, sighing. "What are we going to write about? Doughnuts? The art of origami?" Max rolled his eyes, puffing away on his cigarette. Michael stuffed some roast pork into his mouth and lay back in this armchair, chewing vigorously.
"Could you not smoke in the suite?" Shayne said cattily.
"Says the girl who chain smokes every chance she gets," Max said, his eyes closed. "Anyway, Michael, we could write songs about politics or shit like that. It's not exactly enjoyable when every single song we play has the words 'Oh, baby girl, I love you more than the sun' and shit. I mean, we're not a bunch of pussies." Shayne and Kristen raised their eyebrows questioningly at Max who ignored them.
"Dude, you suck at writing lyrics so you shouldn't be talking," Michael said, rising from the chair. "You know what, let's just stop arguing. I'm going to go outside for a smoke." He smirked at Shayne and left the suite. Michael took out the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and walked into the elevator. Music played softly as he stood impatiently.
Michael got out of the elevator and walked out of the Plaza. The cold wind hit his face, sending shivers up his spine. It would've been useless to try to light up a cigarette so Michael slipped the pack back into his pocket and began walking aimlessly around. He had never liked smoking much anyway. He stood at the edge of the sidewalk, hailing a cab. He just wanted to get away from his bandmates and they didn't have any gigs or rehearsals lined up for a couple of days.
"Where will it be?" asked the cab driver, a middle-aged, fair-haired man. Michael paused a moment before speaking. Where could he go? Certainly not his parents' apartment. And not somewhere he would be instantly recognized.
"1005 Thompson Street," Michael said, breathing in deeply.
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Mia stood in front of the stove, the kettle of water whistling softly. It may only have been one o'clock but the wind gusting outside was as cold as ever. Snowflakes slowly fell down from the sky, clouding over the gray sidewalks and leafless trees. Mia looked out the window as the snow fell from the deep sky. The whistling coming from the kettle steadily grew louder and she turned off the stove. Using an oven mitt, Mia poured the boiling water into a cup of hot cocoa powder. She stirred with a spoon when the doorbell rang.
Helen and Frank were out showing Adam the sights. Mia was exhausted from the previous night so she had decided to stay home. Adam had been slightly disappointed that Mia wasn't going to join them but soon recovered when Helen began babbling about the Metropolitan. He had kissed her so sweetly before he left that Mia felt red just thinking about it.
"Coming!" Mia exclaimed, setting her mug of hot cocoa onto the kitchen table. She hurried to the door and her mouth gaped open when she was who was standing in front of her, snowflakes gently laced in his long, dark brown hair.
"Michael!" Mia said, certainly more nervous than she had been seconds before. "What are you doing here?"
"Uh, I would've preferred a 'Hey, Michael. It's great to see you!' but, you know," Michael said, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "I guess I'm here to…" He paused. "Talk! Yeah. Talk." Mia looked bemused.
"Well, um, okay," Mia said. "Come in. It must be freezing outside."
"It's not so bad," Michael said, smiling brilliantly. Mia let him by and closed the door.
"I just made some hot cocoa," Mia said. "Would you like some?"
"Sure. Okay." Mia led Michael to the kitchen. Michael's eyes darted around the apartment, taking in the things that had changed as well as the things that had stayed the same. The cat clock was still ticking by the entrance to the kitchen, reading the time. The kitchen walls had been painted a lush peace shade, opposed to the cerulean they used to be. Mia quickly emptied a pack of cocoa powder mix into an empty mug and added the hot water. She got a spoon and stirred it gently, her hand shaking.
"Sorry if it's a bit random that I dropped by," Michael said after Mia had handed him the cup of cocoa. They both sat down at the table, avoiding each other's eyes. "I was just hanging around with the rest of the band in our suite at the Plaza, which was boring. And, so, I thought I'd swing by…You know. Talk with you."
"Oh, okay," Mia said absently, taking a small sip of her hot cocoa. Michael waited for Mia to add on but she kept her mouth closed, except for when she gulped down her cocoa.
"So, where's Adam?"
"Oh, he's out with mom and Frank. They're showing him Manhattan, I guess," Mia said. "…How's life been? I mean, I didn't even know about your band until that night at Penguin. Adam's a really big fan of yours."
"I kind of figured that out," Michael said with a laugh, though nothing was particularly funny. "Yeah, well, our album came out two months and ever since then, everything's been like a dream come true, as cliché as that may sound. Well, not everything's been perfect. I mean, my girlfriend broke up with me so she could go bang the lead guitarist from our rival band, North Storm. Hate North Storm. They don't even care about their music. All of it's shit anyway. They sound like any other computerized band. But Gwen's into posers, I guess."
"Gwen?" Mia echoed. "Are you talking about Gwen Brody?" Michael nodded his head.
"Wow! I mean…wow. I'm such a big fan of Gwen's," Mia stopped when she noticed the perturbed look on Michael's face. "I'm sorry though…about the breakup, I mean." Mia thought of how Gwen was sort of like the male counterpart of Michael. She had dark brown—almost black—hair and hazel eyes that Mia had always found frighteningly bright. She had read so many articles about Gwen and knew that she was had a perfectly witty, sarcastic humor and could play a gamut of instruments.
"Don't be," Michael said, gently patting the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. His eyes wandered around the kitchen once again, anything to avoid Mia's soft gray eyes. "She wasn't much of a girlfriend anyway." That was partly true. She had been amazing and warm and beautiful. But she had never been one for a committed relationship, what Michael wanted most.
"So, how many girlfriends have you had since…" Mia paused, her eyes cast downward. She had been about to say 'after our breakup' but stopped before she could. She didn't finish her sentence, instead looking out the window above the kitchen sink. The sky was perfectly pale and gray, the same shade as her eyes.
"Girlfriends? As in, serious, out-on-dates girlfriends?" Michael said, facing Mia. She nodded her head.
"Uh…two," Michael said. Mia looked up and nearly smiled at the sheepish look on his face. "Before Gwen, there was…Shayne. You know her. She's the bassist in the band. It was a short relationship…not so much love as lust." He guiltily thought of hooking up with Shayne after ever Mission for Recognition show, sometimes sneaking into an empty closet or a dark hallway. But sometimes they were able to have a nice, romantic dinner at a favorite restaurant or just spend hours gazing into each other's eyes…or fucking. Michael always preferred this harsh term to 'making love' because he felt he had only really ever made love to one person.
"Two?" Mia echoed. She thought that famous rockstars were supposed to go through girlfriends as quickly as underwear. This shamefully made her think of Michael wearing only his boxers. She shook the thought from her mind and looked up, immediately turning red when she saw that Michael had been staring at her this whole time.
"But, if you're talking about hooking up…I don't like to admit it, but I've probably hooked up with about fifteen girls in the last five years," Michael said, gently biting his lower lip. Fifteen girls in five years, Mia thought, her eyes resting their gaze on Michael's hair. It was long, a few inches above his shoulders, curls tousled throughout. Mia thought about the seventeen girls, not including her, who had ran their fingers through and played with Michael's hair. The mere thought made her stomach twist.
She decided to change the subject.
"So, you're going out on tour soon…That must be exciting," Mia said, now scanning Michael's mug. He hadn't drunk more than a small gulp.
"Yeah, I've always wanted to," Michael said, a faint trace of a smile on his face. "Go out on tour, I mean. The sleeping in a crowded bus with four people might not seem too appealing to some people but I don't really mind. I just want to get out into the world and share my music with the fans, you know?" Mia nodded even though she didn't.
"It's great being back in New York," Michael said, his lips curled in a grin. "I left behind so many things…My family, my friends…" Michael stopped but he knew that they both knew what he was about to say.
'…You.'
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The glowing stars shone down upon them. The sky was as dark as a dusty chalkboard. Michael Moscovitz smiled at his girlfriend, Mia Thermopolis, as they lay on a blanket on the roof of his apartment building. He held her hand in his as they gazed up at the scintillating stars. The heat coming from Michael's body kept Mia warm as she nestled up against him. The air was pleasantly cool for a summer night in Manhattan.
"Have you ever wondered about the stars?" Mia asked breathlessly, closing her pale gray eyes. Michael faced Mia, making out her features in the dim light. His warm breath gently caressed her neck as she imagined the stars.
"Every time I look up at my ceiling or gaze out of my window, Mia," Michael whispered loudly, tickling Mia's ear. She half-smiled and slowly opened her eyes. "They make me think of you." The roof was unexpectedly clean, except for dirt lightly sprinkled everywhere. It certainly didn't take away from the warm atmosphere, Michael thought as he stroked Mia's thumb. It still surprised him after eight months that he was the boyfriend of someone as amazing as Mia.
They had spent the day strolling in Washington Square Park, breathing in the fresh air. Mia wanted to spend as much time as possible with Michael before he left for Columbia, even though it wasn't even that far away from where he was living now, with his family. But, she feared that he would be constantly busy with schoolwork and making new friends that he would soon forget her. So Mia was doing everything possible to make this summer a memorable one.
A few slow moments of silence passed. "…Michael?" Mia said, half-worried that Michael had fallen asleep. She stroked his hair, continuing to look up at the melting stars.
"Yeah, Mia?"
"I love you," Mia whispered, her eyes now looking into Michael's.
"I love you too, Mia," Michael said seriously, meaning every single word.
"I think that…that…"
"Yeah?"
"I'm ready…" Michael eyes widened in surprised at those two words.
"Are…Are you sure?" Michael said, his throat tightening. Mia wanted it so badly and she knew that he did too. So, she felt, it was the logical thing to do. She couldn't stop thinking about making love to Michael and feeling even closer to him.
"Yes…I love you," Mia repeated, louder this time. They both rose from the blanket, looking into each other's eyes. Michael helped Mia slip off her shirt. He nuzzled her neck, planting small, sweet kisses onto it. Michael's clean, soapy smell filled Mia's nostrils and she smiled dreamily, her hands on Michael's nape. She ran her fingers up and began playing with his long, dark brown hair.
Michael grinned into Mia's neck. She smelled vaguely of baby powder and floral shampoo, which somehow reminded him of Mia when she was in the sixth grade and he had first realized that he had a crush on her. Loved her, even, as a freshman. She had been on roller skates and had kept falling. But she had kept getting up to attempt to skate again, which she eventually could do without falling every two minutes.
They slowly made love under the glowing stars that night. Mia felt like she couldn't breathe as her mouth met Michael's and they kissed so warmly, so passionately. It hadn't really sunk in that they had both lost their virginity to each other. Michael never saw what happened with Mia that night as fucking. No, he and Mia had made slow, deep, passionate love that August night. And there would never be a day that he didn't think about that beautiful night.