I know y'all going to hate me for this! Don't forget, it is just fiction! ;)

Thanks for reading, please review.

More later.

Stay awesome, w.

OCTOBER

(1)

I had to wonder if, in some form, despite writing me back, she still wanted to get back at me.

I knew and dated her for long enough to know she didn't like the spotlight, and hated newspapers reporting on her personal life.

Lately it seemed she was turning into one of those TV starlets, desperate for attention to the extent of x-raying their bodies in front of cameras to gain more exposure and notoriety. I knew deep inside she couldn't have changed this much in a month, but to an untrained eye, it would certainly seem so.

Every other day the Internet was flooded with pictures of her and her now more than just rumored consort. They photographed coming out of the fanciest restaurants, Broadway, strolling around Central Park. At first I just frowned, thinking it was an unfortunate event of being recognized. Of course the media was ecstatic, a princess dating a son of the renowned producer was much bigger news than seeing someone like me, but when it kept happening, again and again, I knew it couldn't be only a coincidence. It was done on purpose, and despite the dismay on her face in most of the photographs, the anger was awakening in me again.

It was a low, cheap shot.

What did he have that I didn't? He couldn't possibly love her as much as I did. There simply wasn't a way to love someone more than I did. I was revolutionizing the fucking cardio surgery for her, for crying out loud! How could she not realize it? Why was she so fucking blind and ignorant?

Money didn't mean much to Mia, she couldn't like him for that, could she? Did she find a similar artistic soul in him? I knew he too was writing, poems, short stories, whatnot, but frankly, I never found them spectacular, at all. More like ramblings of someone who had been told he was special from day one. With a father like his, he could certainly come a long way in playwriting business. He was a joke, really.

Clarisse must love him, though. She had loved him ever since the musical they performed, and who's not to say she didn't give him the leading role on purpose? She never hid her opinion of me, I wasn't good enough for her granddaughter. It didn't matter who I was or what I felt for her granddaughter, not coming from a royal family was my only, but fatal sin – or, as she was showing in the case of the tall, blue-eyed JP, I didn't come from a family rich or renowned enough. She was a snob, a type of person I detested, but because of her granddaughter, I had and would put up with her.

If the point of the whole going-out-with-JP charade was to piss me off, it was working. I deserved something better than this public humiliation, and I wasn't going to suck it up.

It was ten in the evening, but I couldn't care less. I was fed up. I wasn't some toy they could kick around. They could be royal, rich, whatever. It didn't give them the right to treat me like crap.

I rented a car and started driving to the closest airport, planning on getting ion the first plane back to New York. I didn't know what I was going to do or say there, but I couldn't take it anymore. Screw robotic arm, screw the reason, all I wanted was Mia and she was slipping away. I wouldn't go down without a fight, no fucking way. If she had something to say, at least she should tell it to my face. I did everything for her, fucking everything, I deserved something better than staring into the photographs of her new beau. If this was the end, I wouldn't let her think she was the innocent victim in all this. I would give her a piece of my mind alright.

I was driving way over the limit and almost drove off the road in a turn. I stopped at the closest gas station, catching my breath. I had almost control of the car, almost killing myself by hitting a tree. For what, the hypocrisy of Genovian Royal Family and the blue-eyes poster boy JP? Surely they treated me like crap, but I wasn't giving them the satisfaction of becoming road kill.

I drove the rest of the way within allowed speed. It took me an hour to find a parking space close to the airport. It was the middle of the night, but the airport was crowded. I stood in line for half an hour to hear the lady behind the counter tell me the flights were already full.

I told her the airline or money didn't matter. I just needed to get to New York as soon as possible. I also didn't care if it took me travelling to Europe first, connecting flights there. Her constant shaking head made me want to scream again. When she suggested waiting around for a few hours, in case a seat opened up, I went to a bar and ordered a drink. And then another two, so eventually I didn't know what was causing my headache anymore - the lack of sleep, stress or the alcohol in my veins.

Even if I made it to New York, what the fuck could I even do? She obviously made up her mind, she was going out with JP now. Was I expecting her to change her mind at the mere sight of her? Was I going to forget about the turmoil of the past month just by looking at her? Would it even be the right thing to do? I mean, so much had happened, so much had happened, there was so much pain, was there any point in stapling it together again? I didn't know about her, but I needed to heal up before I could deal with or failed relationship. I was ashamed to admit it to myself, but the main reason for me to be sitting at the airport wasn't a desire to fix our relationship. I was humiliated, I was ashamed, I was upset – I just needed to let it out. My mind was derailed – my going to see her could easily end up working against me. Maybe I would end up begging her to start over, despite the distance and pain. Maybe I would end up screaming at her, cursing her. I could even end up putting that prick in the hospital. I would humiliate myself, I would be an answer to every reporter's prayer. My unexpected appearance would be just another twist in the sensational cover love story of Princess of Genovia and Abernethy-Reynolds IV.

Whatever the outcome, it didn't look like the mess was clearing up any time soon. Most likely, my trip to New York would end up with making things worse, not to mention, with a question mark next to my sanity. That could seriously compromise my robotic arm, the only thing pulling me through right now.

I left the airport at five in the morning, everlastingly grateful to the lady behind the counter for not putting me on the first plane back home. As if she had known I was not thinking clearly.

I drove back slowly, way under the limit, hoping not to attract the attention of anyone. I knew I wasn't sober, but I couldn't stay at the airport, ashamed of what I had almost done. As soon as I was back in Tsukuba, I went back to the lab, once again planning on leaving it until night time.

When it came to emailing each other, we established a routine. Our emails were short, impersonal, usually describing the random daily events, sometimes the world happenings, especially new movie or music releases. They were strictly free of any genuine feelings or opinions. More so than not, they were simply the acknowledgements of each other's existence.

As much as I wanted to write back the moment her email popped up in my inbox, I usually waited for about two weeks. I usually wrote her late Friday night, my time, and she usually wrote back next Saturday late night, her time. It became part of the routine, something I looked forward to, glad to still have a place in her life, even though it was scheduled.

But JP kept popping up everywhere, holing her hand, walking very, very, too close to her. Every now and then I also saw Lars on the pictures. Usually he was just a figure in the background, barely recognizable. Every time I enlarged the photo, examining his face, trying to read the expression to see whether he liked JP or not. I knew what I was doing was an act of an obsessed, possessed, desperate man, but I could stop myself.

While I got used to seeing them together, holding hands, maybe with his arm around her shoulders, a picture of them kissing was too much for me to handle. Kissing in public? What the fuck? When we had been going out, it was something we avoided, whether the paparazzi were in sight or not. Who the fuck was this girl? Not the one I adored, for sure.

It felt like I was back at the beginning, exploding in feelings I had presumed to have faded. It was Friday, the Friday I was supposed to write her back. I stared at the email, waiting for any useable thought. There was none. My eyes became fixated on my user name.

SkinnerBx.

The name of my former band. He name that had been her suggestion. Coming from her, I of course took it.

And I was still using it, despite being broken up.

I was such a joke. Who was I kidding?

I couldn't make myself change my name. I didn't even know which one to take instead. Pavlov, something after my dog? Something to do with the robotic arm? My mind was blank.

That was the first I skipped the day reserved for her.

Instead, I went out, ending up in a bar, something that seemed to be more a tradition or not lately. I had never been a big drinker, but since arriving in Japan, I found myself testing my limits more and more often. I didn't see the harm, really. I knew I should be worried about myself, but my mind was already so overwhelmed, one additional worry could not make that big of difference.

I was lost in my thoughts, not paying much attention to my surroundings. I didn't even hear her coming until she sat on the chair next to mine.

I looked up to glance at her and she shot me a smile.

"I'll have whatever he's having," she said to the bartender. Her eyes then became focused on me, really focused. I felt chills going down my spine. I had been a while since a girl looked at me like that.

"I've seen you around here a couple of times," she said with a straight-forward voice, examining me with her dark eyes with an overtouch of mascara, not even trying to hide her intentions

I knew I shouldn't start a conversation with her. I knew it could not possibly mean anything good for me. My mind, my life was already a mess, I didn't need anything else to stain it.

But whether I was willing to admit it or not, I was lonely. People I was working with were an amazing, friendly bunch, but even they couldn't compensate for what I had lost. My complete devotion to Mia used to stop me from returning smiles to girls around me, but there was no Mia anymore. I was lonely and looking at the girl sitting next to me, there was no doubt she was very, very attractive. Not at all like Mia, there was nothing innocent, classy about her. She wore very tight jeans, a top that exposed more than hid and an African-looking necklace. She knew just how to dress and move to show her figure. As a man, I surely knew how to appreciate it.

"I'm Michael," I said.

"Renata," she said, not at all minding my drunken state struggling to stay focused on her eyes.

The music was loud, the lights were dim. Our eyes spoke more than our mouths. We were ordering one drink after another, eventually losing count. The longer I sat next to her, the more a feeling of lust was awakening in me. It was a feeling I felt it so many times when I had been Mia, but never could really act on it.

Besides, she moved on. Why couldn't I do so as well? Fuck morals. Fuck my principles. Fuck her stupid prom night.

I don't know how the night would end, where I would end up, if one of my coworkers didn't happen to walk in. I cursed, hoping he wouldn't notice me, but clearly my odds weren't in my favor these days. The moment he saw me, he came walking towards me.

Renata didn't bother waiting to be introduced. She winked at me, saying she hoped to see me around again soon, and disappeared in the crowd. Later I tried to catch a glimpse of her, but she remained elusive.

And I knew I would be back again, soon.

To Be Continued.

Broughttoyouby:::winter.