Falling Away

chapter nineteen: we were bound to bend the rules

a/n: Thank you.

Oh, and the "one, two, three, fourteen" thing is from "Vertigo" by U2, yo.

-

It had been three hours since the concert had ended and Mia's heart was still racing a mile a minute. It was relatively early, only about one in the morning, and Mia was wide awake. The night's events continued to thrill her, shock her, and play through her mind. Mia's headphones rested on her ears, Mission for Recognition's album playing loudly. She laid on her bed, looking up at her ceiling. She couldn't get the image of Michael practically humping his microphone stand during "I Wanna Sex You Up" out of his mind, the dedications during "Darkest Rose," the way he had looked at her when he had leaned in to kiss her. Her head was still spinning and quite honestly, she didn't mind much.

The guitar riff that began "Aiming for Ailema" suddenly filled her ears. She had been meaning to ask Michael ever since she had accidentally read "Ailema" backwards and saw what it spelled. Amelia. Her name. Surely it wasn't a coincidence. No, there was no chance that it was just a coincidence. He had done it on purpose, she knew. The lyrics told a story of a guy yearning for the one that had gotten away so many years before. As she really began to read into the lyrics, Mia realized that at least three-fourths of the songs on Mission for Recognition's album were about, well, her. It wouldn't have been obvious to anyone else, give or take a few of their high school friends, that they were about her and they were.

He had missed her every bit as much as she had missed him, maybe even more.

"Wishing for Nothing" told the story of a "rocky" relationship between a mother and her son with a sister that wanted only the best for her brother. Little jokes that Mia and Michael had shared were carefully laced into the lyrics so they were also somewhat vague, so you couldn't be completely sure about what you might think they were about. That's what Mia had always loved about Michael's lyrics. He divulged so much information but also kept many things a secret, unclear. It was the way she had always wanted her writing style to be like, even though she had always planned to write a novel. She had originally planned, at fifteen, to finish a novel within five years. That obviously hadn't happened, as she was already twenty-one and had only a little less than a full novel finished. She didn't feel much inspiration to write this particular novel anymore, as the story didn't seem to excite her anymore.

She had started her current novel when she turned seventeen. It was about a teenaged girl living in New York with her father and stepmother. She goes to a private high school and has the largest crush on her best friend's cousin. Okay, so maybe it was sort of autobiographical. It was her novel and she could do as she pleased, damn it.

Just hours before, after they had kissed, they had discussed briefly what would be happening. Michael said that he would call her later in the morning to tell her where to meet with the band and depart on the bus for Boston later that day. He told her to pack maybe a suitcase and a bag full of clothes and plenty of underwear (at which she blushed). She had planned to start packing later in the day but now she was too filled with energy to just lay there. She needed to do something. She took off her headphones and turned off her CD player, sighing.

The moment Mia opened her closet to get her suitcase, she suddenly had a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach. What in the world was she doing? She was never this spontaneous and suddenly she was going on tour with her ex-boyfriend's band. She hadn't even told her mother, least of all Grandmere. How would they react? Her mom would probably be excited, as she had always liked Michael. Grandmere would most likely choke on the Sidecar she was likely to be drinking and ask her why she would even think that she would even be allowed to go across the country with that boy. Surely the Princess of Genovia couldn't suddenly disappear with a world-famous rock group. It was almost unheard of. Actually, it was unheard of.

But hey, Mia was different. But, Mia couldn't help thinking, Grandmere was unlikely to go with that argument.

Mia took one of her suitcases from out of her closet and lugged it over to her bed. She opened it and set it out on her bed. The first thing she saw was a small note tucked into one of the pockets, something she had forgotten to take out of the suitcase. Curious as to what it read, Mia unfolded the letter and read.

Mia,

By the time you read this we'll already be in New York, living it up (ha ha), I'm sure. I can't believe I'm finally going back to my, well, homeland…the place where I was born. It's going to be so exciting, I just know. I just wanted to thank you for coming back to America with me. You're my best friend, you know that? You're my confidante, the one person I can go to and share my feelings and troubles with. And I love you for that, for being such a good friend. Here's to exploring America and mingling with the natives, yeah?

Love,

Adam

Mia's heart just about died as she read the letter that she had failed to notice when she had been unpacking weeks before. This was a letter, written neatly in Adam's beautiful handwriting, Adam had written to her just days before they had set off for America, judging by the date on it. He must've slipped it into her suitcase when she hadn't been looking. How were they to know what would happen once they actually arrived in the States?

She folded the letter back into its original state and dropped to the floor, lifting up the bed's curtain. She placed the letter along with the rest of her Adam mementos. Photographs, letters, CDs (except, of course, for the Mission for Recognition CD)…Nearly everything he had given her was hidden under her bed. She probably wouldn't be seeing him for quite awhile. And, honestly, she missed him. Platonically, of course. But he was still one of her best friends and she loved him for that.

Mia stood back up and walked over to her drawers to look for clothes to pack. Luckily for her, Frank had done the laundry the night before so all of her clothes were clean and fresh, ready to go. I'm really doing this, Mia thought as she looked through her drawer of shirts, searching for the ones that she thought might be appropriate for the tour.

Or, in other words, the shirts that best accentuated her recently acquired assets.

After looking through her shirts (and, in all, packing twelve…surely that couldn't be enough), she looked through her jeans and pants. It took her over an hour to pack everything she felt she needed. She would pack her toiletries later, she supposed. Mia zipped her suitcase and carried it over by her door. She proceeded to walk back to her bed, turn off her lamp, and collapse into bed.

She fell asleep, her hands against her heart.

-

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes," Michael said impatiently, emphasizing the word more than needed. His bandmate surrounded him on both sides, Warren Zevon standing directly in front of him.

"You are not taking your goddamned girlfriend on tour with us," Warren hissed, spit flying onto Michael's face. A disgusted look on his face, he wiped Warren's spit off of his cheeks.

"She's not my girlfriend," Michael Z said in an equally annoyed voice. "And she is coming with us. You better remember this Warren: You can't have a band without a lead singer. And I just happen to be that fucking lead singer. Are we clear?" An angry look flashed in Warren's eyes, his hands on his hips.

"Crystal," Warren said, storming out of the room.

"Fucking Hell, Michael," Max said, looking disgruntled. "We're going out on tour. What would Mia do all day?"

"I thought you all liked Mia," Michael said, sounding almost hurt. He carefully avoided looking at Shayne when he said this. "If you all were faking it last night, I must commend you on your great acting skills." He rolled his eyes, looking away.

"Well, I liked her," Kristen said helpfully. "She seemed really nice."

"Thank you," Michael said, smiling gratefully. "But honestly, she isn't particularly loud and she can just sleep with me in my bunk." His eyes flashed to Shayne almost unknowingly. He felt bad at the look he had created, the look of betrayal and hurt that appeared in her eyes.

"Eh," David said, his eyes not on Michael but on Kate Harlow, whom was across the room, talking away on her cellphone, a large grin on her face. David felt his heart flutter but instantly felt guilty, as his girlfriend was arriving in a matter of minutes to say goodbye before she went off to Asia. The night before, Kate had given him a gorgeous blazer after his girlfriend had left and people had been clearing out of the venue. Sadly, David recognized the blazer as the same blazer Michael had been wearing throughout the show, the same blazer he was wearing at this moment. Surely it was a coincidence that they had both gotten the same blazer. From two different people, he was sure.

Right?

"I take that as a yes," Michael said. Their bus would be leaving in nearly forty-five minutes and Michael had chosen to spring the news of Mia coming along at the absolute last minute. Because he was awesome like that. "Anyway, I told her to come in a half hour so you had all better be on your best behavior." He emphasized these last two words, sounding as close to a schoolteacher as was possible.

"Oh, God, Michael," Kristen said. "Do we really embarrass you that much?"

He ignored her.

---

"Mia!"

Mia's cheeks flushed pink at the sight of Michael, the way he said her name. He stood in front of the bus, his hair flopping in an impossibly cute way over his eyes. He raised a hand, a small, somewhat mysterious smile on his face. His lips looked bright red in the cold and Mia, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to jump him and kiss those soft, red lips.

But she needed to remain composed. Princesses, after all, rarely jumped other people. Right?

"Hey," Mia said, walking closer to him. He looked so happy at seeing her it practically made her heart melt.

Before she could stop herself, she kissed his cheek. The biggest smile appeared on his face.

"Okay, well, let's go put your bags inside," Michael said. "And then I'll give you the grand tour around the bus. Sound good?" Mia nodded, her head tilted. He took hold of her suitcase and her bag. He seemed to be carrying them easily, as easily as you could with a suitcase stuffed with at least fifteen T-shirts.

He led her toward the bus. Off by the back of the bus she saw the rest of Mission for Recognition.

"Hey, Mia!" called out Kristen, waving enthusiastically. Mia grinned, waving back with almost as much energy. She noticed, somewhat sadly, that Shayne was giving her an extremely dirty look. The moment she looked at her again, though, Shayne had resumed talking to David.

Mia stepped onto the bus, after Michael. It was a rather big bus, bigger than she had thought. Michael turned his head, his eyes bright.

"Wait here for a second." Mia nodded, smiling almost shyly.

Michael walked to the bus, to the bunks, she presumed. He came back a few seconds later.

"Well, where you're standing is where Bob, our bus driver, well, drives. He's usually nice unless you call him out on his Disney obsession. Then he can get a tad bitchy…" Seemingly without thinking about it, Michael held his hand out to Mia. They hadn't held hands in so, so long. She stared at his large hand for a few moments before taking it. His hand closed over her smaller hand, somewhat rough or somewhat smooth. Perfect.

Michael walked up the steps that led to the central part of the bus. "This," Michael said in a sudden newscaster voice, "is where we mostly just sit around, get drunk, get naked…You know. All of that normal stuff."

"Over there," he said, pointing at a small table, "is where we eat. Well, it's not exactly big enough for all of us to eat at, so sometimes some of us eat on the couches or something. But, really, the only meal we eat on the bus is breakfast, since we're always traveling and restaurants are fun and all." He walked over the small refrigerator and opened it.

"Well, we've your basics, your essentials: beer, soy milk, beer, mustard, and…beer," he said with a tiny chuckle.

"Well, uh, at least you've got soy milk."

"I swear we're not alcoholics," Michael said, squeezing Mia's hand. He took her to the sliding door that held the toilet and sink. "And here is where we do our business. The toilet isn't for any, um, fecal matters. If you've got to do that sort of shit, pun intended, Bob will probably stop somewhere."

Yes, she definitely needed to know this.

"Okay, enough of that," Michael said. "Let me show you the sleeping quarters…" He walked past the bathroom and the next room held six bunks, one for each member and one for Bob. "I know, very exciting. Here is where we sleep, have nightly talks, the usual. I sleep on the bottom. Max claimed the top bunk before I could say anything. But, hey, at least I won't fall out suddenly in the middle of the night." Michael pushed back the curtain and showed her his unmade bunk. She noticed that there was a TV at the edge of the bunk.

"Oh, the record company put those in," Michael explained, seeing where her eyes had landed. "I think that's about it. So, what do you want to do now? Play Scrabble? Drink beer? Hav—" Mia put her index finger to his soft lips, a gesture that instantly quieted him.

She took both of his hands into hers, stepping forward.

"Well," Mia said, her eyes looking down. "I was thinking that we could…" Her gray eyes drifted upward and met Michael's dark brown eyes, his beautiful peat bog eyes.

"Yeah?" Michael said, his voice suddenly caught up.

"Do…this…" Mia said, pinning him against the wall. She put his hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head down. Her lips met his, an instant smile appearing on his face. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed her in a soft, gentle way, planting tiny little baby kisses on her mouth. She found the whole thing rather endearing. Only he could make her feel the way she felt now.

Alive.

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A/N: Not much in that chapter, just some getting reacquainted…you know. Review?