Happy Anniversary

Monica shook her head, took the keycard that she had been carrying ever since she and Chandler had checked in to the hotel, and shoved it into his chest. He winced a bit in pain at the force that her hand had collided into him with, although, if he were being honest, it was more a reaction to what was happening. "I hope you and Joey have a wonderful weekend together." Every word dripping from her mouth with dismissive sarcasm. She then turned away from him and stormed off. "C'mon Phoebe! Let's go to our room!"

Phoebe looked back and forth between Chandler and Joey and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I guess she's staying with me." She followed Monica demurely and gave a quick wave goodbye to Joey.

Joey smiled bashfully and then turned to Chandler. "So, uh, roomies! That should be fun. Right?"

Chandler rolled his eyes and then raised an aggravated eyebrow at him. "I'll catch you later Spartacus." He turned towards the opposite direction that Monica had left in, and made his way to the elevator bank that was on the far side of the casino.


By the time he arrived at his room, Chandler was no longer angry at Monica for her secret lunch with Richard. He always found it difficult to stay mad at her. Normally, when they did have a fight, he would come around to her way of thinking, or they would work out some sort of compromise, and then they would enjoy a toe-curling round of make-up sex.

As a matter of fact, now that he is thinking about it, this should be their room, not his room that Joey was going to crash in. She should be here right now, with her skirt hiked up to her waist and her shirt already discarded to the floor. His pulse should be racing, his pupils should be dilated, and he should be preparing himself for an evening of indescribable ecstasy. Instead, he was settling into a mix of grief and dread. Grief because he was pretty sure this relationship was over, and dread because he knew why.

This was Richard after all. Her one true love. In all his mustached glory. Of course, he would come back into the picture now. That is the kind of luck Chandler has when it comes to love. Everything was going so well and Chandler was actually, for the first time, seriously thinking about the future. Their future. So, naturally. it made sense that Richard would reappear just as Chandler felt like he was finally figuring out exactly what commitment and being in a relationship was all about. And, of course, he knew that if Richard came around looking for Monica, she would be done with Chandler without really a second thought. Could he blame her? Hell, even he would choose Richard over him.

Why else would she have hidden it from him unless she was trying to figure out how to let him down easy. She was probably going to wait until they came back to New York, give him a few days to bask in the glow of their amazing one-year anniversary celebration, have a few more secret dates with that mustachioed bastard, and then let Chandler know she was running away with him to live wherever it was old eye doctors lived.

Why wouldn't she choose Richard over him? Why is he so surprised at this turn of events? He should be used to this by now. The women of his life leaving him for someone else. When will he learn that he doesn't get to have the happy ending? How many more times does this have to happen to him before he realizes he should just pack up shop and prepare himself to follow in Heckles footsteps. Even that lonely hermit probably had some horror stories from his past. A string of terrible romantic disasters that led him to decide to simply give up and spend the rest of his days surrounding himself with junk. Well, now Chandler had three of those.

He just never thought Monica would be one of those stories. He never thought she would do this to him. She was supposed to be different. She was supposed to be special. Instead, she is probably back in Phoebe's room, dialing up her new boyfriend right now. Letting him know that their plans to be together were working out sooner than she expected. They were probably professing their love for each other right now. The big lip-haired jerk.

How is he supposed to move on from this? How he feels for Monica is nothing like he has ever known before. This is not a few days lying around in sweatpants, go to a strip club and get over her kind of woman. This is a move across town, drink your face off and never go outside again because you will never get over her kind of woman.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed them across the room, ducking his head into his shoulder when he realized how loud of a noise he made. He let out a frustrated groan and then he crashed backwards onto the bed, rubbing his eyes so hard with the palms of his hands that he started to see stars.

Maybe Monica will come back. Maybe she will look for him tonight. Maybe she will tell him it was all a big mistake. He stood up from the bed and began to rub his hands together. Sure, he could try to believe that. She was probably talking it over with Phoebe right now and realizing just how big of a mistake she was making and started to race over to his room to tell him. He jumped from heel to heel and watched the door intently. Any minute now and she would be coming right through that door. Bursting into the room, grabbing him tightly and ferociously making love to him.

He looked at the clock on the bedside table. He would stand here, looking at the door for one more minute. If she doesn't come back in one minute than she is obviously never coming back. He chuckled to himself as he thought about that. One minute was not enough time. Five minutes. Five more minutes and if she did not come knocking on that door, then it was probably over. Although, as he thought about it some more, he realized that five minutes was not long enough to walk all the way across the casino and get to his floor. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes was his final offer. If she was not here in thirty minutes, then he would know for sure that she was not coming.

He stood there, in-between the two double beds, waiting, watching the door, and realized how this was some crazy, distorted, mirror universe version of the events from one-year ago today. Even the door is on the opposite side of the room. One year ago, she came knocking on his door and changed his life. She saved his life, and he did not even know it needed saving.

He felt pretty good about himself as he was getting ready to go to bed. He even thought to get a little exercise before he went to sleep, but then, after one push-up, he realized that was a stupid idea. Sure, it was early to be thinking about calling it a night, but he was also still a bit jetlagged. Although jetlag was not enough to dampen his mood. Hell, even the knowledge that Joey seemed to get his hooks into the only bridesmaid, who also appeared to be the only available single woman who was going to be at the wedding, did not upset him. He had no intention of going through the process of kidding himself into thinking he would have had a shot with her if Joey was not around. Chandler, through years of experience dealing with women, has come to understand, that nobody really wanted him. Not in the way that they wanted guys like Joey. And at least for one night, he was okay with not being wanted.

He was too preoccupied with this prideful and peaceful sense of accomplishment that he had been basking in for the last thirty-minutes. It took until now for him to realize, it was because he was there for his friend. Because he was there for Monica. She needed someone, and in what felt like a rarity, he rose to the occasion. He made her laugh, even though she did not want to laugh. He kept her company, and felt as though his promises of a bright future ahead for her were actually making her feel better. He also made sure, with her insistence, that she had a few more drinks in which to drown her sorrows, but he also ensured she did not imbibe too much that she would be feeling ill the next morning. Most importantly, he made sure she got back to her room safely. She even gave him a small kiss on the cheek as a thank you for his efforts.

He knew that the reason it felt so good to be there for her was that it felt like old times. Before Rachel and Joey, when it was just the two of them and they only had each other to rely on as they tried to navigate their way through the big city. They propped each other up when they were down, just like what he did tonight. He knew that they would always be close, no matter who else came into their lives, but back then, when it was just the two of them, they were the best of friends. It felt nice to have that little piece of the past back.

Then, there was a knock on the door and she stood there, still miserable, and had obviously found herself a refill for her drink. She looked pensive and angry and defeated. It made him sad. How could this amazing person not see in herself when it was so clear to him? How could she feel so down about who she was? How could he see all of these amazing things about her, yet she was so blind to them? She was so much better than anyone else he knew. She was certainly better than him. How could she think so little of herself? What possible chance could an actual mess like him have when a fantastic person like her couldn't find what she wanted. She was smart, kind, funny, caring, and…she was beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman he has ever known. And then he realized he should tell her that.

"You were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight."

If he were being honest, his heart almost broke when she looked back at him, disbelief riddled across her face. It was as if no one had ever told her anything like that before. How could she doubt what he knew as a universal truth? She was beautiful, both inside and out.

"Are you kidding me? You're the most beautiful woman in most rooms."

And in a flash, she was on him. He did not even have a second to think about what was happening, he just responded, as if on instinct. Something happened to him in that first kiss. It felt as if he was experiencing the truest moment of his life. As if everything he ever knew about anything up until right then was a mirage. He felt reborn when her lips crashed into his. As she moaned into his mouth, all he wanted to do was pick her up and take her over to the bed and let his body take over for the rest of the night. But this was Monica. And he had to make sure she was sure, because women never want him like this.

But, in that moment, she did want him. And she wanted him some more later that night. And even more after that. And then she wanted him when they got back to New York. And then a week later, she still wanted him. Then a month later. Then three months later. She still wanted him even when he acted like an idiot, or some entitled brat or a jealous fool. Then, before he really knew what was happening, she was wrapping her arms around him, telling him that she loved him, in front of everyone, and he realized that he never knew true happiness until that moment. And over this last year, she showed him that she wanted him in a way that no other woman had ever wanted him. And he was starting to entertain the idea, that this was going to last forever.

He looked at the clock again; thirty-minutes had passed. She has not knocked on his door yet. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door and waited. He waited for another knock, just like a year ago. He was waiting on a second miracle where she would choose him over Richard. He looked at the clock again; he could give her more time. He had to give her more time. So he sat and he stared and he waited to find out if she still wanted him.