"Goodbye, you fruit-drying psychopath." Chandler slams the door behind Eddie and happily turns around to face Joey, doing a sort of manic dance.
Joey grins back. He feels almost giddy; he's really back here in their apartment, in the small, three-room home he and Chandler have made together—back where he belongs. How had he ever thought it the right thing to leave? A calm, familiar feeling is settling back into the center of his chest, something he hasn't felt since he moved out. He hadn't understood how much Chandler meant to him until it was almost too late.
Chandler's comfortably familiar voice cuts through Joey's thoughts. "So, you want me to help you unpack your stuff?"
The grin returns to Joey's face as he shakes his head. "Nah, I'm okay. Oh, and . . ." He clears his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Uh, just so you know—I'm not moving back in just because I have to. I—I mean, I do have to, but . . . it's just that . . . that place—wasn't—" Struggling on his words, Joey winces apologetically as Chandler's face settles into an understanding smile.
"I know, man—"
"It just wasn't really—I mean, this is . . ." Joey trails off, embarrassed. This is home.
And as if voicing his thoughts, Chandler pulls him into a warm hug. "Welcome home, man," Chandler says softly, as Joey smiles into his shoulder.