Wonderwall
Prologue
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I started this ages ago. And by ages, I mean 7 months ago. This idea came to me when I was driving and heard the song Wonderwall by Oasis. And, actually, I had intended my idea and title to go towards a Mondler fic. But…well…Mondler has been done. Randler is mostly uncharted territory. And, I've been working on this for awhile but had wanted to wait until I was done with Standard Lines to start posting it, but…I'm impatient. Like, ridiculously impatient. Like, I rival a 5-year-old in impatience. So…here goes nothing. Enjoy :)
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And after all,
You're my wonderwall
-Wonderwall, Oasis
~.~2001~.~
Chandler all but gasped when he walked into Joey's living room (formerly his living room) to find Rachel sitting in one of the Barca Loungers. She looked up with surprise equal to his, though neither of them could be certain why. He had known she was coming into town; she had gone to Joey's hoping to see him. Maybe it was the shock of the situation. The way they had left things with each other, neither had intended to see the other ever again.
"I'm just gonna…" Joey trailed off, awkwardly pointing to the door before walking out, leaving them in a silence that the word "awkward" failed to scratch the surface of.
Rachel took a deep breath, watching the door slam shut. She looked at the familiar etch-a-sketch on the door, wondering whose phone number was written on it before shifting her gaze to the refrigerator magnets, doing anything to keep her mind busy, and to keep her from having this conversation with him. What conversation was there to have, anyway? The last time she had seen him, they had both been in tears, screaming at each other, throwing out words they would eat moments later.
What conversation was there left to have, even after all this time?
Chandler finally cleared his throat, and Rachel looked up, meeting his eye. As a sudden rush of emotion overtook her, she found herself grasping onto her purse in her lap so tightly her knuckles turned white, trying to do anything but drown in the emotions that staring into his blue eyes washed over her. Given his silence, she was at least relieved to find him at the same lack of words as she was.
Scuffing his foot along the ground, Chandler broke eye contact. Taking a breath, he licked his lips before speaking, looking back up at her when he did so. "I, uh, I didn't get married," he finally said, speaking barely above a whisper.
"So I heard," Rachel nodded, speaking quietly as well. "I got a job in New York. I'm moving back here."
"So I heard," Chandler echoed her earlier response, but the room again went eerily silent after.
"Look-"
"I'm-"
They both began speaking at once, resulting in an awkward smile and laugh from each. Rachel then stood up, setting her purse on the chair as she crossed the room to where Chandler was standing, still near the door.
"I just wanted to say that…I'm sorry for everything I said two years ago. I didn't mean it. I-"
Chandler cut her off, shaking his head. "I know. I'm sorry, too. For everything."
Rachel nodded in acceptance, holding back tears. God, how was his mere presence bringing tears to her eyes? "I don't know that leaving made anything better," she finally added, now only a step from him.
"I don't know that you staying would have made anything better, either," Chandler shrugged helplessly. They both again stared at one another in silence before Chandler took the remaining step, closing the gap between them as he encircled her in his arms. Rachel closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck, still trying not to drown in the emotions he always seemed to evoke. "I miss you," he whispered, and Rachel didn't fail to notice it was present tense, not past tense. He didn't stop missing her; he still did. Did that mean when he was about to get married he still missed her, or just now that he wasn't getting married he missed her? She tried to let that thought remain fleeting, not wanting to dwell on it too long.
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, wishing away the tears she knew were going to come through in her voice. "I miss you, too," she finally choked out, still clinging to him, not wanting the hug to end, because when it did, they would have no choice but to talk about the past.
And that was the one thing she had spent the past two years trying to forget: The past. Or, rather, their past.
~.~
In case you haven't noticed, I pretty much love writing mysterious prologues :) Reviews, please and thanks :)
