Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the apartment, just the DVDs. There's no profit except writing practice being made here. Nor do I own the film You've Got Mail.

Revenir Bredouille: To return with an empty bag; To have made an unsuccessful attempt; To return disappointed.

NY1990

I have been thinking about you. I can't believe you didn't show this afternoon. I wish I knew why. I felt so foolish. I hope everything is alright. I can't imagine it was something you did on purpose, you don't seem the type to leave a woman feeling humiliated on purpose. And as I waited, someone else showed up. He's an old friend. We're close, don't get me wrong.

But he wasn't you.

I like this person well enough, except for the endless jokes and annoying way he continues telling them until I laugh. But I was expecting a handsome businessman, a serious-minded man with a sensitive side, and I was met with my dorky friend instead. You'd probably like him, but I couldn't think of a worse person to walk in at that moment. He likes to comfort, but to do so means he sticks his nose into my business, prying until I'm so exhausted by his insistence that I tell him what's going on. So the second he saw I was upset you hadn't showed, he resorted to trying to cheer me up. Something I was in no mood for. He's frustrating and annoying and funny, but you can't tell him that or I expect his ego would inflate immeasurably like it used to when he was a teenager.

Thing is, normally he's pretty good at comforting me, but I was miserable. And him being there made me more so. That's never happened before, mind you. But I wasn't expecting him. I was expecting you, NY1990. Why did you not show up?

I hope you didn't walk by the restaurant and see my red rose at a table with him sitting down with me. We're not together. We'll never be together. I hope you didn't see him, think we were, and decide not to show your face.

I was dismissive to my friend, I think, leaving him alone when you didn't show despite his efforts to cheer me up. But I don't think I offended him. He's quite difficult to offend, I think. I've never even seen him angry, and I've known him for years. Still, that doesn't excuse my behaviour when he was simply trying to make me smile.

Anyway, you are my dear friend, and I so wanted to talk to you. I hope you have a good reason for not being there this afternoon, but if you don't, and if we never really connect again, I just want to tell you how much it has meant to me to know you were there and you listened for a while.

ChefGirl20

Chandler stared at his desktop, unblinking, his eyes hot and irritated from the brightness. His jaw clenched for another reason.

He'd got the shock of his life when he'd taken the day off to prepare himself for meeting his online acquaintance, the woman he'd been talking to via a chatroom and then by email for months. He was in love with this faceless voice he interacted with once every few days, which was insane but true. He needed to present himself perfectly, not a hair out of place, no stains or crinkles on his shirt and jacket, and his tie needed to match his shirt and bring out his eyes, something he'd learnt from Rachel.

Chandler was being anxious, he knew, but when he called in sick he wasn't lying, his stomach was turning with anticipation and worry he wouldn't be enough for her when she saw him.

There was also the niggling fear that he was being lied to and this was all an elaborate scam, or even a murderous plot, like Joey joked it was.

Chandler was also being presumptuous, expecting that he and the woman he'd never met in person would hit it off when they met face to face and need a few hours to get to know each other properly.

He'd walked down the twisting streets full of trepidation and excitement and checked himself one last time in the window of the restaurant, straightening his tie and fixing his hair. That's when he saw her.

His best friend was sitting at a table in the middle of the establishment, a red rose on the metallic table.

Of course, she was, he found himself thinking. All the signs were there. Actually, Chandler couldn't believe he hadn't cottoned on to the identity of who he was talking to before then.

All his anxiety had melted from his bones and his chest and swelled with contentment. She was beautiful, she always had been. Soft and glowing, slightly insecure and gorgeous in red.

He laughed through his nose at his luck. Monica was the easiest person to talk to, someone he loved hanging out with and she seemed to like him just as much, laughing at his jokes and teasing Ross with him, the two of them talking late into the night for no particular reason. They'd been close friends for years, neighbours for ages, and if Chandler could be comfortable and confident in front of anyone, it would be her.

All he had to do was be himself with her. That was always enough for Monica. It wouldn't be difficult for him to tell her the man she'd been talking to online, the one with the big group of friends and fear of committing to the wrong person who would abandon him for a better model. The man who wished he dared to invest in himself and actually write.

He was actually quite amazed she hadn't figured it out already. It was so obvious now that he knew.

His body vibrated with excitement, shivering with intrigue despite the warmth of the day. It hadn't taken long, admittedly, to fall hard for the words typed into his inbox. Now that he knew it was Monica, that fact wasn't surprising. He'd been suppressing a crush on her on and off for years. Only now Monica might feel the same. Chandler grinned giddily. It was time to find out.

Monica had looked up at the ding of the door opening, her smile broad and bright. Her eyes were shining when she met his.

Then it disappeared. Monica's shoulders dropped too and she slouched back into her chair. She slapped her hand onto the rose on the tabletop, pulling it into her lap as though she didn't want him to see it. Monica never was very subtle, and the speed of her movement drew his attention to her actions.

Chandler swallowed when he saw that movement. He set his lips in a thin line, giving her a tight smile around his clenched teeth.

She was disappointed.

He couldn't tell her.

So Chandler had played dumb. Then excused himself to his office so he didn't have to go home.

He hadn't wanted to open the email when it flickered onto his screen in the bottom right corner, but curiousity had gotten the better of him.

He wished he hadn't. It seemed Monica was disappointed even when he was merely playing the role of her friend.

Things were never going to be the same.

So, this is a prologue to a multichapter fic that I can't guarantee I will ever publish here. I intend to, but I have a lot of things going on at the moment. I published the prologue prematurely. Normally I would never do such a thing without having finished the story first, but where we are. It takes place in season 2 when Chandler is canonically interacting with people online enough to both feel comfortable to meet a stranger, and fall in love with them without knowing who they are. It is based on the most heartbreaking scene in You've Got Mail because A) The scene when Joe gets the email from Kathleen about how disappointed she was to meet him instead of NY152 is heartbreaking and I think it would have some really interesting ramifications if it ever occurred between Monica and Chandler. B) I've read about four different Friends ''You've Got Mail' fics that are all about the email relationship and falling in love without knowing who you're talking to, but I think the interesting part is the next stage, what happens when feelings are or aren't reciprocated. C) I need practice writing convincing dramatic irony.