Hospitals and Heels

Michael

Annabelle scowled, her heels' clicking as furious as she was. "Michael, what was that?" She demanded when the King and Queen left the study. She jabbed a perfectly manicured finger into his chest. She knew it was undoubtedly painful, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Michael, you have had more bad press the past few months than you have the rest of your life. What is going on with you?" She fell into the chair beside Michael's

Michael didn't answer, staring at the magazine his dad had thrown in his lap. His face was on the cover bathed in blue and red lights. Of course the article didn't mention the other nobles that were there. Annabelle included. He let out a frustrated breath.

"Babe," Annabelle continued, "I know you're tired of all of this, I am too. I know you need to blow off steam, but you promised we'd leave before midnight and get back to the school. You promised you wouldn't have more than a single drink." She stared at her hands now folded in her lap. Her hair fell over her face, covering all but a limited profile. "I used to have to drag you to parties from your work. You used to be the one carting me home. But now? Michael, I don't know what to do anymore."

He looked over to where she was slightly hunched in her seat. A few more papers on the desk in front of her. "I don't see you on the front cover." he said with more force than necessary.

"I'm not going to be king," she said softly, before leaving the study, shutting the doors behind her.

Michael scrunched his face up before tearing the magazine in half, ripping his head off of his shoulders. He shook his head to himself, storming out of the office, nearly stepping on Annabelle who was leaning up against the other door.

"Babe, wait." She called.

He strode past her, through the halls of the castle all the way to the pool hidden from the knowledge of most inhabitants of his father's castle. He shed his shirt and pants, diving into the chilly water.

With a heavy breath he swam around the pool, lap after lap, thoughts assaulting his head. He didn't know how long he continued to swim, his heart slamming, lungs heaving, arms straining… but it worked its magic.

Michael hauled himself up onto the edge of the pool, shaking the water from his hair, wiping his face, less to wipe the water droplets off, more to express his frustration still bubbling under the surface. He knew he shouldn't have been drinking. He knew he shouldn't have been out past curfew, dancing and going wild at all hours of the night but… it was the only thing he could do to escape the stress and impending fate he was being forced into.

Sean's words last night had rung true, even if Michael was under tremendous pressure… there were always people who were suffering more. Always people handling more. Always people—

"Highness, I am so sorry!" He turned to find a young woman, cleaning supplies in hand, backing towards the door.

"No, you're fine," He stood, grabbing a towel from the nearest rack, rubbing it through his hair, then drying the rest of himself. He grabbed another one to wrap around his waist, throwing his shirt back over his shoulders and the rest of his laundry and the towel in the linen basket. His pants would find their way back to his room somehow. He picked up his phone from where he'd set it on a chair.

"Michael, Gisa woke up."

He checked the time of the message. Crap. Four hours ago. He rushed to shower and changed as fast as he could, arriving at the hospital in record time.

He was shown to her room by a young nurse, quiet and shy, at least around him. "Just around the corner." he said to Michael, "Room 407."

Michael rounded the corner, wincing as he passed a few rooms, news channels all blaring out his mistakes. He should run away. He chuckled at the idea. "Gisa?" he asked, knocking on the partially open door before heading in.

"Michael, nice to see you," She said, nodding to him. Ron was in a chair behind her, showing her something on a tablet that he hurriedly stowed away when Michael walked in.

"How… how are you feeling?" he asked. But he knew the answer. Her hair was dull and limp, large bags under her eyes, her skin was blanched. Even in eight days, he could tell she had lost weight. Her neck was half covered with thick gauze, a visible arm bandaged tightly. Though he couldn't see it, from the shape under the thin hospital sheet, there was undoubtedly a very large cast hiding.

"Just dandy," she said, "I haven't eaten anything in over a week, I haven't showered in over a week, I'm so loopy on pain killers I feel like I'm flying…" Gisa noticed his forlorn expression. "Sorry, I'm probably not helping. You look…"

"Yeah…" He winced, "If you haven't heard the news, I'm pretty hungover." His head pounded harder as if in emphasis.

"We saw," Ron said, shifting in his chair, "Things aren't looking good for you Prince."

Bluntly put, but true… "Where are Emma and Jamison? Did they have to leave?"

Gisa grimace, sharing a look with Ron. "They haven't shown up yet." Ron said, "Jamison left yesterday night and hasn't been back to the dorm since then. No sign of Emma either." He said, fidgeting with his hands. "We don't know where they went or anything." Ron lowered his head, "It's admittedly getting pretty worrisome."

That was… not good. "They were… They were at the party I went to last night," Michael admitted. "Emma was there with some friends I heard, but spent a lot of the night with Sean, my… my friend." He choked out the words. If they were still friends. "I saw Emma, she and Sean were drinking something, dancing," he swallowed hard, he could leave out the kiss… "I saw Jamison killing some people in card games, also drinking… They were playing a game when the cops showed up. Party ended pretty quickly for me. The royal guard was there within minutes to get me out of the cop… the cop car, yeah," he said when Ron pulled up an image of Prince Michael in the back of the police car. He sighed heavily. He knew the police were trying to keep him safe, but the photos were snapped at the wrong time with the wrong story… "Even the Prince isn't above the law." a caption under the photo read.

"If you want, I can have people sent to—" he stopped, noting Gisa hanging her head.

"Michael, Emma has never had a single drink in her entire life…" her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Ron squeezed her hand. "Crap she probably didn't know."

Images filled his head that he tried to clear. Jamison seemed pretty level headed. Even though Emma had danced on the top of a table at the very end with a few others, totally drunk, Jamsion wouldn't have left her. Sean— Sean!

"I'll make a phone call, hang on," Michael ducked out of the room, weaving through traffic until he exited the lobby sitting on the stairs outside.

Sean picked up on the first ring. "Hey, dude. I am so sick right now it isn't funny. Unless you want to hear some disgusting sounds, I suggest you hang—"

"No, listen. Where's Emma?" Michael demanded.

"How would I know? I was in the middle of a freaking hot kiss when my annoying little sister barges in and—"

"Sohpie's number. Send it to me." Michael interrupted.

"Fine, fine, so pushy…" Sean rambled on for a minute, but as soon as Michael received the number he hung up with a quick thanks.

"Hello?"

"Sophie, it's Michael. Sorry, but do you know where Emma is?"

There was a shuffle for a moment. "Sorry I dropped my phone. I have the worst headache. I don't know how my brother manages to drink all weekend and show up to school fresh each week. Did you say something?"

"Yes. I did. Where is Emma?" His heart pounded when she didn't respond.

"Hello?" Asked a new voice.

His heart immediately calmed, "Oh my gosh Emma, hey! It's Michael."

A pause, "Is this about last night."

"No, no. Emma, Gisa is awake!"

The line went dead. He didn't know what to think, sinking to a seat on a large planter outside, glaring at one of his guards who had still not mastered the art of "being hidden"

Emma rushed from the bus stop. He'd never seen her so discombobulated. She was still in pajamas, short shorts and an oversized tee with her hair up in a messy bun. She wore mis-matched socks in her heels from the night before. "I look like a mess, I know," she said as she flew into his embrace, "But I'm so relieved I really don't care,"

They rushed to Gisa's room. Michael wanted to watch the two, but with Ron, gently motioning him out the door… He watched the start of a tearful reunion before the door shut.

"I have an idea," Ron said to him, leading him down a long corridor. "She's been a total crab since she woke up, not that I blame her. But I seriously think food will help." He pointed to a sign for the cafeteria. "Come on, let's grab four trays of food."