A/N - Wow, thank you guys so much for the feedback!
Boris - thanks, I will include Phoebe and Joey soon. Cynthia - thank you so much for your support (especially the double review! :)). Winston - eh, you make a good point! Guest - yes, eventually it'll spiral into Ross and Rachel, don't worry. anon - thanks :) made me smile. Gabby - thank you, you're review did make me happy. RachelGeller - thank you (i love your username!) very much! and yes, you may have Ross :)
Anyways, this chapter isn't my favorite; it took me a while, and I'm still not one hundred percent satisfied. But, it is a Monica-centric one, and I really hope you enjoy.
This was really not Monica's day.
"What?" Monica cried, taken aback completely.
Her very dependable roommate had just informed her of her last minute departure, leaving Monica alone in her dorm, again.
"I'm sorry," Elena shrugged, gathering the rest of her shirts and tossing them carelessly into her suitcase. "My mom's sick and I need to go back and take care of her."
Monica closed her eyes, the disappointment and shock still overwhelming. This was her third roommate this year; that had to be some kind of record. As much as she felt sorry for her roommate's family situation, she couldn't help but wallow in a little self-pity.
"And you're telling me this now? Right as you're leaving?"
"I'm not done!" Elena defended herself, motioning to her last drawer filled with the remainder of her clothes.
Monica's eyes filled with bitter dismay.
"Trust me, I'm not happy about this either," Elena said, "you're a great roommate. But my dad begged and begged and begged until I gave in."
Monica bit her tongue. It was selfish to expect Elena to stay, she told herself. It was selfish and completely inconsiderate to even ask her to think about staying. She was a terrible person to even feel bad for herself.
"My brother's going back as well," Elena explained, flinging an old pair of pants into the growing pile of luggage.
Monica winced as she watched each piece of clothing being absentmindedly slung. Her fingers itched to take each piece carefully, fold each one so that they wouldn't wrinkle.
"Well," Monica sighed deeply, "I'm sorry about your mom," she said contritely. "Have fun in North Carolina."
"Thanks," Elena zipped up her messy suitcase, and set it on the floor. "There. Done."
Monica wanted to point out that no, she was not done. All she had done was amass a disorganized heap of clothing into her luggage. But, this was goodbye, and there was no point into ruining it with a complete Monica moment.
"Bye, Elena."
Elena didn't look back. "Bye, Monica."
Monica wandered glumly into the dorm lounge, in a terrible mood already. She brightened as she saw Carol curled with a notebook up on an empty loveseat in the corner of the room.
"Hey," she joined her, "What're you doing?"
Carol groaned. "Making a list of things for Ross to know."
"Weren't finals three weeks ago?"
Carol shook her head. "Oh no, see, Ross is meeting my parents this weekend."
Monica's eyebrows sprung up in shock. "Wow," she commented, trying to act delightedly surprised. "Big step."
This depressed her even more. First, her roommate left (abandoned) her, and now her brother would be gone for Valentine's Day.
Carol frowned. "He didn't tell you?"
Monica shrugged nonchalantly, as though the notion didn't bother her. "Nope. Guess he wanted to tell me later," she brushed it off.
Carol took Monica's indifferent response as a relief. "Oh, okay."
Inside, Monica was torn up to shreds. Her geeky older brother had a girlfriend, a date, just someone special to be with on Valentine's Day. And where would she be? Alone, in her dorm - because she was single. She didn't even have a roommate to cry along with.
Carol scribbled down another note. "Ross needs to know a little about Judd Nelson. My mom's in love with him."
"Oh, I love him," Monica deadpanned, but Carol didn't hear her.
"Anyways, guess what?" Carol grinned at her.
"What?"
"Ross told me he loved me this morning."
Shock hit Monica over the head with a frying pan.
"Wow," she said softly. "Wow!" she exclaimed even louder, for the sake of Carol. "I - wow, congratulations!"
Alone, the word rang loud and clear in Monica's head, as Carol carried on about the different things her parents expected out of Ross, and whether or not he'd fulfill them. Single and alone.
Monica reread the words for the umpteenth time, trying to take them in. She couldn't focus, and though she knew it was a thrilling book, she was only staring at the pages blankly.
She was sitting at her favorite café, waiting for Ross to return from the bathroom - seated, cross-legged on a green couch, she sat and waited for him to return.
She didn't want to look she wasn't doing anything, so she had brought her book along - and for a good reason. Her brother took way to long in the restroom. Chandler had even penned him the nickname, "Lingers in the Bathroom."
A hand tapped her shoulder, and she turned around immediately, glad for the distraction.
For the second time that week, Rachel Green's smiling face looked down at her.
"Hey, Monica!" she said.
"Hi, Rachel," Monica smiled at her in a half-hearted effort to make a perfunctory greeting.
Why, why did she have to keep running into this girl? She was pretty sure the run of their friendship had ended after high school graduation; meeting up each other now just seemed fruitless.
"How've you been?"
"I'm great," Monica lied. "How are you?"
Rachel beamed. "Wonderful," she gushed perkily, "I'm meeting Barry again tomorrow!"
Rachel obviously expected an ebullient response, the girly, giggly kind that she and Monica had shared in middle and high school together. She expected a million different, excited questions shot at her at once – 'how was it?', 'is he hot?', 'what does he do?', 'did you guys… you know?'
However, Monica just gave a deferential smirk and said, "Cool."
Rachel stood there for a moment in astonishment, incredulous at the nonchalant response.
"Hey, Monica, who's your friend?" Ross approached the two girls.
Rachel turned around, and Ross' eyes widened with joy and amazement.
"Rachel Green?" he asked, his entire face brightening.
Rachel gave a questioning glance at Monica, who confirmed with a swift nod. "Ross Geller?"
"Hi," Ross embraced her enthusiastically, "how've you been?"
"Great," Rachel beamed, glad to be talking to someone a little more perky than Monica.
"Gosh, I haven't seen you since last Thanksgiving!" Ross recalled.
"Yeah, are you still with that girl… uh, Karen?"
"Carol," Ross corrected. "Yeah, I am. How about you?"
Monica felt a little left out of the conversation. She supposed it was her fault, since she had been acting pretty distant towards Rachel, but Ross could at least include her. They acted as if they were the long-time friends who had just met up, not Monica and Rachel. Monica just coolly picked up her neglected book and pretended to continue reading.
"Well, I've just started seeing this guy, Barry," Rachel gushed.
"Oh," Ross said simply, and for a second, Monica swore his face fell. He continued, "Isn't college great?"
"Yes," Rachel squealed. "Oh, we should catch up! I know this really cute Japanese restaurant, wanna come?"
Ross nodded gladly, then looked to Monica for permission.
"May I?" he gestured to Rachel, who was fishing through her purse.
He might as well, seeing as Ross and Rachel had been best friends since the sixth grade. No, wait a minute - that wasn't him.
Monica didn't want to make a scene, however. She shrugged. "Go for it."
She watched over the top of her book as her brother's curly, black cut and Rachel's cinnamon hair disappear out the door.
Dialing her home number, Monica nestled her cell phone between her neck and ear as she sat down and prepared for the worst.
"Hello?" her mother answered. "Ross?"
"No," Monica said, "it's Monica."
Her mother was not all that sad to see her only daughter and youngest child head off to college. In fact, a few days after Monica's departure, her room had transformed completely – into a gym. However, Judy insisted that Monica check in once a week, just to let her know how she was doing and how college life was. That, in the mother's language, translated into 'do you have a boyfriend and are you even going to get married?'
"Oh," a simple word, yet powerfully condescending.
"How're you?" Monica asked, determined to steer the conversation above patronizing remarks.
"Good, dear. Did you know Ross is visiting Carol for Valentine's Day?"
"I did," Monica confirmed, growing weary at the reminder.
"I don't suppose you have any plans this weekend," Judy remarked. "Do you mind coming down here, dear? Samantha Heslin's daughter is going to fat camp, she wanted to ask you some questions."
"Sure," she said grudgingly.
Monica grinded her teeth and fisted the bed sheets. Her mother said the word 'dear', as though it made up for all the scornful comments.
"Actually, I do have plans," she fibbed, seething with indignation at her mother's assumption.
"You do?" her mother's voice sounded incredulous.
"Yes," Monica continued, "with… a guy," she slapped herself on the head. "Uh…we've been dating for a while."
"You have a boyfriend?" Judy remained skeptical. "Who is it?"
"A guy, I met him at a party a month ago," Monica sidestepped handing out specific names. "I have to go, I'm meeting him in ten minutes," She hung up quickly, before her mother could further interrogate the identity of this mystery man.
And now, she needed to keep up the charade of a fake boyfriend. Wonderful.
Monica searched through Elena's empty drawers, figuring she had a little extra space to herself now.
Each one had a distinct odor, she noticed, as she scrubbed each with some paper towels and a bottle of Lysol.
She opened the last one, and lying in the bottom was a cell phone.
Monica picked it up curiously; it must be Elena's, she kept her cell phone safe and sound.
See, this is why organization is a must.
Monica rushed to her nightstand, plucked up her address book (which all her roommates had endlessly mocked), and flipped to 'E' to find 'Elena Harding.'
She dialed her home number, and set the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she yanked off her rubber gloves and put away the cleaning supplies.
"What do you want?" a gruff voice answered on the second ring.
"Ah, is Elena there?" Monica asked politely. She figured she must be home by now; Connecticut was only a handful of hours away by drive.
"What the hell are you talking about, 'Lena?" the voice asked rudely.
"No," Monica corrected, "this is Monica. I'm Elena's old roommate. I was wondering if Elena reached home yet, she forgot her phone here?"
The gruff voice snorted. "Elena's not home. You must be the roommate she moved out on."
Monica's heart dropped; she dared not believe the voice.
"What?" her own voice wavered in disbelief as she tried to confirm the horror.
"Elena told us she was moving out on her roommate 'cause she was so unbearable," the person guffawed, obviously not caring how Monica felt.
Monica's heart sank, all the way to the bottom. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
The person continued. "She told you she went back home? Priceless."
Monica didn't need this. Elena's relative wasn't planning on ending their laugh festival anytime soon, so she hung up the phone miserably and lay on her bed as tears prickled beneath her eyelids.
You'd think by now she was inured to the rejection.
Chandler groaned into his pillow. Didn't Ross have a fucking key? And why was he knocking so damn loudly?
In fact, why would he come back anyways? He had told Carol he loved her this morning, he shouldn't be returning anytime soon.
Half-asleep, he drowsily unlocked the door and it swung open.
"Dammit, Ross, I-"
On the other side of the threshold, stood a depressed-looking Monica.
Her face was stained with tear tracks and she had tied her hair into a messy bun. She was still wearing her daytime clothes, despite it being 2 A.M. in the morning, and she stood there almost as if she had wandered into the building by accident.
All his annoyance and sleepiness had vanished when he had seen the disheartening look on Monica's face.
"Are you alright?" He opened his arms out; she seemed in desperate need of a comforting hug.
She shook her head 'no', on the verge of crying again.
Chandler knew something had to be terribly wrong. In the two years he had known her, he had learned that Monica rarely cried. In fact, Monica had never let anyone see her cry. She wasn't sobbing at the moment, but the fact that she hadn't erased any signals that she had been was a warning red flag. She liked to be tough and strong, and the fact that she had come to him in tears meant that something horrible had happened.
"Is Ross here?" Monica asked as she pulls away.
"No, he's spending the night with Carol. I saw him leave with a bottle of fudge and a packet of marshmallows in hand," he joked.
Monica's face, if possible, looked even gloomier at this.
"What's wrong, Mon?"
She rubbed her forehead. "Can I stay here, for a bit?"
Chandler nodded, taking her hand and leading her to his bunk.
"What's wrong?" he asked; he was ready to listen, despite the fatigue.
"Well, Elena moved out, because apparently I make the worst roommate ever. My mother's been bugging me about being single. My dorky brother is practically married to his girlfriend, and my oldest friend gets along better with Ross than with me." Monica listed off.
"I'm sorry," Chandler whispered, and slung his arm around her. He wasn't exactly sure what to do with all that information, but he could tell she'd had a crappy day.
"I mean, am I really so bad? That hard to be with? I'm just going to end up alone, aren't I?" Monica rambled on dolefully.
Chandler frowned. To him, that was certainly not true. Monica was gorgeous, smart, and was already at that stage of commitment he wasn't sure he'd ever quite reach.
"Why do you think that? Because you're roommate moved out? So, what? Tons of other people think you're great. I think you're great."
At this, Monica felt a little guilty. She had been bursting with problems lately, and so far, the only person she had ranted to was Chandler. He was a patient listener, save his occasional quips, and he was the only one she depended on to be there for her in the past few months. He didn't always know what to say, but he listened.
Today, the weight of the world was bearing down on her shoulders alone, and she knew the only person there to hear her out would be Chandler.
"Thanks," she said. He spread out his arms again and she fell into them readily.
His hands were placed gently on her hips and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They sat there in silence for a few moments, basking in the warmth.
"Trust me, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met."
Maybe it was the dimly lit room and the bed that was right next to them. Maybe it was that when he hugged her, she could hear his pounding heart. Maybe it was her roommate's departure, apparently because she made an awful roommate. Her mother, ragging on her until she lied about a non-existent boyfriend. Ross and Carol, happy as could be. Whatever it was, Monica was happy to pursue the feeling and leave all depressing thoughts behind.
When they broke apart, Monica hovered near his face, staring into his cerulean eyes earnestly.
It wasn't until her head hit his pillow and Chandler's pajama top is unbuttoned halfway does Chandler realize what they're doing. He parts his lips from hers, but Monica continues trailing kisses along his jawline.
Chandler tries to sort out his thoughts, answering his own questions in the process.
"Woah, woah, what's going on? You and I are making out?" his breath is raggedy and his willpower is fading, especially as she moves to his neck and sucks on the bit of skin there. "We don't do this."
She whispers against his throat as her fingers undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and she traces shapes up and down his torso. "I need this, Chandler." Her hand moves lower and lower, down to the danger zone.
He himself didn't know what he was doing. He was losing all coherent thoughts as she began unbuttoning her own shirt; this was everything he'd wanted. A horny college chick, a possible one-night stand with no strings attached? Every guy's dream, floating right there in front of him. Any other college dude would gladly go along.
But he couldn't take advantage of Monica Geller, of all people. He had two years of friendship with this girl and she was Ross's sister and oh, God, how could he face either of them in the morning if he did this?
He sits up, shirt halfway off his shoulders, and looks her in the eye before she can unclasp her bra. "Monica," he says, "you're my best friend's sister."
"So?" she attempts to kiss him again, but he moves away.
"Monica, look," he combs a hand through his unruly hair, "you're upset. I'm sorry, I just don't think this is all that good of an idea."
"Well, we won't know that until we do it, will we?" Monica counters, approaching him once more.
"Monica," he tries again, "You're vulnerable right now. If you and I were to... do this," he motioned between them, "I wouldn't want it to happen like this."
Monica sits up too, finally seeing where he's going.
"Chandler," she says, "you don't get it. I need this. I hate this, I hate myself for being single and alone, and I just-" she looks like she's about to start crying again. She's never felt more alone in her life than she does today, and he just doesn't understand, she needs this. She can't handle another rejection.
"I'm sorry, I just don't think this is a good idea."
"I'm giving you the advantage, enjoy!" Monica begs. "Just this once."
"Monica," he says gently, stopping her from yanking off her top, "Mon, I'm not doing this with you."
She stands up promptly, and steps away from the bed. "Fine," she says, and storms out before Chandler can say another word. "Okay."
"I'll see you in the morning," Chandler calls out.
"Sure thing," Monica replies sarcastically, not giving him a second glance.
As soon as the door was shut, Chandler groaned.
"Well, I think it's safe to say our friendship is effectively ruined," he muttered, throwing himself back onto his bed.