I finally begin a second story, and it is neither of the two that I have previously mentioned I would be writing. Sorry about that. I keep getting these ideas, yet I never put them in place. However, after having this dream, I realized I very badly wanted to share it with my fellow Friends fans.
One thing that will be a little different about this story is that it will have a character outside of the characters from the show—me!
Yes, that's right: I will be a character. Because of this, the story is going to be in first-person, which I have never written in before. Also, I realized that my character needed a name. I didn't want to use my real name, so I decided on simply using my username on this site: Blunz.
(Yes, spell-checker. "Blunz" is a word.)
I feel some background information is necessary to provide you readers with. To start off, I'm good friends with both Monica and Chandler. I also know Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, and Joey, though I'm not as close to them. We are all teenagers, me and Monica being sixteen, and Chandler being seventeen.
I was accepted into a boarding school, and—due to my close friendship with the two—Monica and Chandler decided to come along. Monica was more resistant to the idea, though Chandler was able to convince her.
As far as relationships go, none of the six are dating within the group, and I am not dating anyone either. As far as my character knows, Monica is still with her boyfriend Kip, in a long-distance relationship. Chandler is also single. Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, and Joey may or may not be in relationships as of now. I'm not even sure at this point whether or not any of them will actually be in this story.
Now that I've used up nearly an entire page of this Word document, I'm going to actually get on with the story. Hope you guys enjoy!
"If there really is a heaven out there, this is it," I say, marveling at the fancy golden gates before me that give the illusion of stretching up infinitely into the cloudless blue sky above. The "pearly gates" practically glow in the sunlight of this beautiful, glorious day.
"I think I'm already beginning to love this school," Chandler says. "It's just so pretty, I can't look away."
"I bet it's clean, too," Monica says, causing me and Chandler to laugh. I do agree with her, however. The school looks clean, and I like that. It had always been one of my greatest reasons for becoming such close friends with Monica: we both cared about cleanliness. I have yet to find somebody who bothers to keep their bedroom as clean as either me or Monica.
I have more than just that in common with the girl, however. We both have an older brother as well. My brother is less than two years older than me, and Monica's—Ross—is just about a year older. I've suspected my mother favoring my brother, but after seeing how Mrs. Geller treats her children, I know I don't have it nearly as rough as poor Monica.
I could go on and on about similarities between us two, but that might just take all day. The only real difference I can think of is that she's a dog person, and I'm a cat person. And that she actually has a soul, unlike me. At least, that's what people tell me about having red hair and freckles. I don't really mind the comments, however.
I realize nobody has spoken in several seconds. "I sure hope so," I finally reply.
"Well, let's stop guessing and actually go inside to see for ourselves," Chandler suggests.
"Good call," I say. "Now, how the heck do we get into this place?" I look around until I notice a silver keypad on a near wall. "Ah. Fancy," I whisper.
"What is?" Monica asks.
Instead of answering, I reply by walking over to the keypad. I hear two sets of footsteps following close behind. Up close, I realize the keypad has a small screen at the top—making it look more like a calculator—that instructs me to press the Start button. I hear Chandler's voice. I don't bother turning around.
"Yes, 'fancy' indeed," he agrees.
I smile and press the button that reads "Start". The screen's text disappears and new text materializes into view. It tells me to enter my name. I punch in the letters and press the Continue button. Some security questions are asked, and I punch in the answers. The screen soon shows a confirmation message, and the gates slowly begin to move away from each other, swinging inward.
"And we're in," I say.
"You sound like we're breaking into a bank," Chandler jokes.
I roll my eyes. In all honesty, I do find Chandler funny. It's just that sometimes, his jokes start to get a little annoying. I mean, seriously? Can't they cease for just five minutes?
The next ten or fifteen minutes go by in a bit of a blur. I'm too busy thinking about how great it's going to be to stay here. Taking a quick look around, I realize the school really is clean, and I smile. Judging by Monica's expression, I can only guess she has just noticed the same thing.
A woman at the school's front desk tells us about how happy she is to see three new students and how it may be hard to adjust to boarding school life at first, but we'll get used to it in time. I'm really not paying all that much attention when I notice just how many trashcans are around just this one room. They must keep the place spotless!
I wonder if hanging out with Monica has caused my obsessive cleanliness to grow stronger. I don't really care. I'm proud of it, more than anything.
A bellhop-looking guy with short black hair and wearing a red uniform grabs our suitcases from us and sets them on a luggage cart. He leaves to bring them up to our dorm rooms.
"Once again," I say. "Fancy."
The woman continues to tell us that there is no school today and classes will start tomorrow, allowing us one day to walk around and get a feel for the school. I'm glad about that. I don't really mind school, though it's still nice to not have the first day of school be the first day seeing the school. I hate getting lost and being late to class, even if it doesn't count against you during the first week or so.
The woman hands us each a keycard to our dorms, which she says will also unlock the front gates, which I have officially nicknamed the "Pearly Gates".
When the woman finishes, she dismisses us to do pretty much whatever we want. Monica, Chandler, and I agree to go up to our dorms first and unpack at least a little before exploring. Monica and I are sharing a dorm, and Chandler is either going to have some stranger be his roommate or be left on his own. They separate the girls from the boys.
We find an elevator and head up to the second floor where the dorms are. The girls' dorms are odd-numbered and on our left, whereas the boys' are even-numbered on our right. Organized—just the way I like it. The left wall is the stereotypical pink of girls, and the right is blue.
I use my keycard to open the pink door with blue lettering that reads the number 147. The three of us enter the dorm where we find a neat arrangement of our suitcases and bags on the floor near an orange couch. The apartment is fairly large. It has a small kitchen where I'm sure Monica will be spending a good amount of her time, a television across from the couch, and a coffee table directly in front of the couch. Both the left and right walls have a door, which presumably lead to the bedrooms.
"Your pick, Mon," I say. "Left or right? All bedrooms in this school are the same, but I figure since you're Monica, it still matters to you which side you're on."
Monica chuckled softly. "I'll take the right. Thanks for asking."
"No problem," I reply. "Well, let's get unpacking."
Chandler groaned. "Great."
"Don't complain," Monica demanded. "I'm not letting you ruin the fun for me."
"How in the world do you find unpacking fun?"
"Blunz, you tell him," Monica instructed.
"Sorry, but I'm kind of with him," I say. "I mean, I don't complain like an eight-year-old about it, but I don't exactly find unpacking to be a thrill."
Monica scoffs in mock surprise. "How dare you abandon me? And for Chandler, of all people!" she teases lightheartedly.
"Feelin' the love," Chandler sarcastically remarks. "I'm gonna go unpack. Here: have a hat." He takes his deep purple baseball cap off his head and tosses it to me. I catch it and give him a confused look. "Don't question my sanity," he says before walking out.
"Well, that wasn't a weird way to leave a room at all," I say sarcastically, studying the hat in my hands. I look up at Monica when she doesn't reply. She looks tired, which is understandable considering the long day we've had. "You okay?"
She doesn't reply, looking even more exhausted from my question. She finds a seat on the couch and gets herself into a half-sitting, half-lying position, with her head propped up against the orange arm.
"Maybe you should rest," I say. For whatever reason, I decide to place the hat on her head. It goes on crooked, making her look a little funny. I chuckle softly. She turns her head to look up at me, and my laughter immediately comes to a halt. Her face suddenly turns a shade redder, and she looks sadder than I've ever seen her, almost on the verge I tears. I've never seen Monica, in all the time that I've known her, come even close to crying. I quickly move to sit next to her. I practically rip the hat off her head and toss it to the side. "I guess that was a stupid idea. What's wrong?" Deep concern fills my voice.
She sighs, the official saddest sound I've ever heard in my life. "Just . . . tired," she tries.
"Okay," I say, considering her words. "Now, tell me the real reason."
She sighs again and runs a hand through her currently short, dark hair. "Kip broke up with me."
My eyes widen in shock. I have never actually met Kip, but through Monica's stories, I thought the two were in a pretty strong relationship. I couldn't picture them ever breaking up. I wonder why Monica didn't tell me. "What? Why?" I spit out, too shocked to form sentences any longer than one word.
"When I told him I was going off to a boarding school, he wasn't exactly all that happy with the idea," Monica says. She looks as if she's using all her might to hold back from crying. I know that if I were in her situation, I would have lost that battle long before now. I place my hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "He—he thought I didn't want to be with him anymore, so he . . . He just broke up with me." Her voice cracks with emotion.
I finally manage to compose a full sentence. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I don't know," she says with a face inflamed in shame. "This is the first time since the breakup that you're not around Chandler."
"What does Chandler have to do with anything?"
She shrugs her shoulders, looking like she's struggling to get words out. "I guess I just didn't want him to know. He used to be good friends with Kip, you know."
"Yeah, I know." I give her a look of great concern. "I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this. I mean, seriously. Kip was . . ." I trail my voice off, wondering if I should continue. "Are you at that stage after the breakup yet where you want to hear bad things about your ex?"
She thinks for a minute, then nods. "Yeah."
My only judgment for thinking of Kip as a bad boyfriend is because he broke up with Monica, but I find it to be reason enough. "Good, because Kip was no good for you. He's just so . . . scummy."
"'Scummy'?" she questions.
"Yeah. Scummy." I smile. "And you don't deserve scummy. You deserve . . . Well, you deserve a boyfriend."
"I really do want a boyfriend," Monica says. "I mean, even scummy ol' Kip was nice to have because I was in a relationship. I really just want to be back in a relationship."
"Believe me; I can relate," I say.
She goes silent for a minute, then grows a look of realization on her face. "You've never had a boyfriend, have you?"
I shake my head. "Nope. Not one."
"How . . . ?" she says, sounding like there would be more to the sentence. Then, simply, "How?"
I shrug my shoulders and smile, trying to look casual about the touchy subject. "I don't know."
"Seriously, how could—," she begins.
I interrupt her, not wanting to talk about myself any further. "You know, I think somebody likes you."
Her eyes light up. "What? Who?" She sits up, looking like she seriously not only wants to but has to know.
I smirk. "I can't tell you."
"What? Tell me!" she demands.
"Nope," I say simply. "Can't. Sorry." I know my short, one-word sentences annoy her, so I purposely throw them in as much as I can.
She stands up from the couch and playfully smacks my arm. "Tell me! Tell me, you jerk!" She tries to sound angry, but the image doesn't quite pan out with the smile that has creased her lips and the anticipation in her eyes.
"Sorry. I really cannot tell you," I say, my smirk only growing wider and move devilish.
She picks the hat up off the floor, and before I can even see what she's doing I find the deep purple fabric covering my face. I have the sudden feeling of suffocation, and my eyes widen in fear. I know she was only fooling around, but I feel like I'm going to die if I don't get this thing off my face within the next second. I rip the hat off my face. In between staggered breaths, I yell, "It's Chandler! It's Chandler!"
I soon recover myself enough to see her shocked face. "Chandler? Seriously?" She looks at me as if I just grew a second head. "Did he tell you or . . . ?" She lets her voice trail off a bit.
I rely back on my smirk and cross my arms. "No," I say. "Just a strong feeling."
"Just how strong of a feeling is this supposed 'strong feeling'?" she asks.
"Pretty strong," I say. "So, what do you think of that?"
"Well, frankly, I'm flattered," she admits.
"And?" I push.
She shrugs. "I don't know. I've never thought of Chandler that way."
Her words are convincing, but not convincing enough for me not to notice the hint of doubt in her eyes. "You sure about that?"
Monica looks down at the ground. She opens her mouth to speak, only to wind up closing it again. She awkwardly scratches the back of her neck.
I smile at her and the thought of my two closest friends getting together. Monica and Chandler. It did have a nice ring to it. Mondler. Yes, they would be "Mondler". It was a cute couple name for them.
Though I already knew Monica's answer, I also knew she would not admit to it for some time. I turn as if to leave and take a step toward the door leading back into the hallway. Before I leave, I twist my head around so that I'm looking at Monica.
"I'll give you some time to think about it," I say. "Talk to me when you're ready to admit the true answer." And with that, I turn on my heel and exit the dorm, as if I have somewhere to go.
I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. If you liked it, stay tuned for Chapter Two, which will hopefully be out shortly. And while you're at it, I would appreciate if you guys could check out my other Friends fanfiction: Transgendered Past.
Disclaimer: It doesn't actually have any transgender people in it. Just read the description, and you'll understand why I named it that. ;)
