Chandler is twenty-five and decidedly too old to be pining for his straight roommate. He makes up his mind to move on, but at the same time, they become closer than ever.
He develops the omnipresent feeling that he is being stalked, but when his dormant illness returns, it seems that he was only being paranoid. That is until he meets his stalker face-to-face.
He can be alone forever, or he can indulge in his stalker's affections. After all, he seems pretty harmless, but Chandler doesn't realize how fast everything can spiral out of control.

This fic has been completed, but is not fully edited! I'll be uploading a chapter every week. Will be a little over 50k words when finished.

Triggers: heavy angst, domestic abuse, rape, PTSD, major illness

CHANDLER

It had been three years since Chandler moved in with Joey. Exactly thirty-six months. Chandler remembered because it was right after New Years and he had learned that the already outlandish prices of Village apartments were hiked even further during January while resolutions were still in full swing and people all over the city made up their minds to finally grow up and move out.

Chandler was frustrated to the point of grinding his teeth when he stomped into the nearest coffee shop and brushed off the snow on his coat. It was a cozy place with warm tints and a light, gentle babble of conversation. He scanned the room for a place to sit when he saw a familiar face crossed legged on an armchair.

"Ross?" Chandler asked as he approached.

Ross lit up when his eyes landed on Chandler. "Hey!" Ross stood and they exchanged a quick hug. As tight as he and Ross once were in college, their relationship had since fizzled out. Ross went to graduate school and Chandler found a cushy accounting job. Chandler wanted to say they were both busy, but it was Ross who didn't have the time to call and Chandler who was afraid to show the vulnerability of needing his friend. Admittedly, it was a childish fear, but one he could not shake.

"How are you, man?" Ross asked.

"Eh, can't complain," it wasn't true of course, but he wouldn't start out his first interaction with Ross in months with a list of his latest gripes, "What about you? How's Carol?"

The sound of a group of people collectively sucking in air between their teeth came from behind him. Chandler turned to see Ross's group of friends, three women and a man. The women were together on the couch and the man sat on the far chair. The women were thin with bright eyes and long hair, what Chandler assumed was objectively beautiful. The man had dark brown hair and matching chocolate eyes. His skin was suntanned and his maroon V-neck shirt complemented his fit body.

"Carol left me," Ross answered.

"For a woman," the man added unnecessarily.

"Yes, for a woman. Thank you, Joey," Ross said in a monotone voice, "What have you been up to?" he asked, shepherding the conversation to a different topic.

"I got a gig at an accounting firm, but I'm out in Nassau and sick of commuting. The people on the subway freak me out," he pretended to shudder.

"You're looking for a place? Hey! That's perfect. Joey's looking for a roommate," he motioned to the man on the far chair.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm sure he doesn't want to move in with a stranger-"

"Anything's better than Steve," Joey said, unconcerned by the bold request Ross had thrust on him.

It enchanted Chandler, the whimsy of Joey's disinterest in reality. The appropriate reaction was to politely decline the offer, but Joey not only accepted, he didn't even blink at the prospect. Chandler was in love from the get-go.

That was what led up to today and his New Years resolution (as cheesy as he thought they were): no more pining after Joey. Thirty six months he wasted wishing that his roommate would love him back, thirty six months of longing glances and indulgent fantasies of them as a couple, but it was coming to an end. He wouldn't read into any lingering looks, wouldn't covet any intimate moments, wouldn't imagine their white picket fence life together.

Besides the usual cliché resolutions of working out and calling his mom more, he had one other goal to take care of today.

"Are you okay, Chan?" Joey asked.

"Huh?" Chandler hadn't realized he was rubbing his hands together and staring hard at the ground as they walked. "Oh, sorry. Yeah, just a little preoccupied."

"About what?"

They made their way by a glowing department store and reached the street corner, pausing obediently like the red hand on the crosswalk sign ordered them to. "I'll tell you later."

"Why tell me later? Tell me now," Joey frowned.

"You can wait ten minutes."

"Ten minutes is like two hours to me!"

Chandler stared at the snow dusted on the crosswalk. A figure approached, wearing a navy blue, puffy coat and a speckled, gray scarf. His red hair was smothered by an ear-muffed cap so that it only peeked out at wild angles beneath the fuzzy fabric. His head was bowed as he stepped into the road without bothering to look up at the sign.

Chandler had seen it happen before; after all his years of living in New York, it was hard not to. It had been a souped up sports car flying through an intersection and slamming into a pedestrian. Their body flew in the air and landed with a thud that he could barely make out between the growl of engines and the rumbling of tires on concrete.

This time, it wasn't a sports car. It was a chipped, viridian van barrelling down the street and headed straight for the man. "Hey!" Chandler shouted, but the man offered no reaction. "Hey!" Chandler yelled again, but didn't wait for a response. He sprinted across the road and threw himself at the man. They fell back in time for the car to skid past them and narrowly miss their feet. Chandler panted, looking over his shoulder at the spot where they almost died.

"Come on, Chan! Get out of the road," Joey trotted up to him and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to his feet.

Chandler blinked back into reality. The man was attempting to scramble to his feet on the wet surface of icy road. Chandler offered a hand and the man accepted before the trio bustled to the safety of the sidewalk.

"Are you okay, Chan?" Joey stood in front of Chandler, close enough that the old, pre-resolution Chandler would have breathed in his cheap cologne and thought of how he loved his very smell. Joey looked down at Chandler's hands and grabbed him by the wrists. "You scraped your hands."

Slamming his palms into the concrete burned off some of the skin and he was bleeding, but he could hardly feel anything besides the chill of ice on his hands. "I'm fine," he extracted his wrists from Joey's grasp, "Are you alright?" Chandler turned back to the stranger.

"Y-Yeah. I am now."

At this vicinity, Chandler could see that the man was around his age and half a foot smaller than him.

"You saved me," the man said with awe in his scratchy voice, as though he were still processing the information.

"You'd probably have been fine," Chandler lied. The admiration made him uncomfortable and he wasn't used to this type of attention.

"Yeah, that was amazing, Chan," Joey butted in.

"Thank you so much," the man said, "Can I shake your hand?" He reached for one of Chandler's hands and pumped it vigorously, "What is your name?"

"Chandler," he replied sheepishly, wishing that he could jerk his hand away, but unwilling to hurt the guy's feelings. Normally, he would have rescinded and accompanied the action with a cutting joke, but the man seemed to revere him and he couldn't bring himself to ruin that image.

"Chandler," the man repeated, "Thank you, Chandler. I'll never forget this," he beamed, revealing a row of uneven teeth. He finally let go of Chandler's hand, turned on his heels, and strode away, disappearing around a corner.

"I feel like he walked out of a TV show," Chandler stared at the spot where the man had been, "Who talks like that?"

"He was weird," Joey pursed his lips for reasons unknown to Chandler. Had his friend wanted to be the one to save someone? Had he been irritated by the attention Chandler received? Hopefully, it wouldn't affect his reaction to Chandler's news.

"You've got snow-" Joey swiped the snow off of Chandler's chest.

"Thanks," Chandler watched lovingly. If he could, he would wrap an arm around Joey's waist and pull him in for a kiss, but he put the thought out of his mind. Not today. Not anymore. "We should get going."

Joey nodded. They walked home, sharing reflections on what happened and about the excitement and peculiarity of the interaction.

"Hey," Chandler's stomach twisted as he walked into Monica's and saw that the entire group was gathered in the living room. It was his intention to have everyone there, but now that the moment was upon him, he was terrified.

"Hi," the group chorused.

"We're watching Seinfeld," Phoebe informed.

"Cool," Joey kicked off his wet shoes and tossed his coat over the back of a kitchen chair, then jumped over the couch and settled between Phoebe and Monica.

Chandler carefully removed his loafers and neatly folded his jacket to set on the table. "Guys," he cleared his throat, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Monica picked up the remote and clicked off the TV. "What is it, honey?"

Chandler sat on the ottoman so that he faced his friends. He didn't know where to look. If he could, he would have had everyone turn around while he talked.

"Okay," he straightened out, "Okay, so here's the thing," he fidgeted with his hands and then held them out as if he had presented them with something.

"And that thing would be?" Ross asked.

"Right," this wasn't going to get easier the longer he floundered so it was time to spit it out, "I should have told you a long time ago, but I'm gay."

And there it was, ringing through the room. He thought it would be different. That it would take up all the empty space and he would feel suffocated by it, but when the word left his mouth, it felt almost anticlimactic. Even so, that did not deny the wriggling fear in his gut from persisting.

There was a shared moment of quiet as the group registered the information before clamoring to talk on top of each other.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say we're all okay with that and I'm glad you could tell us," Ross sounded as rational as ever.

"We love you no matter what," Monica promised.

"That's okay, sweetie. It doesn't matter to us," Rachel said.

Phoebe added, "We're happy for you."

The group seemed to realize at once that one of them had yet to speak. All heads turned to Joey, who was sitting silently on the adjacent chair.

"Oh, um, that's great, Chan. We're all okay with that," he said.

The flat reply crushed Chandler. The others had been effusively supportive, and it was great, much more than most people got, but it was Joey who he most wanted to be accepted by.

"How long have you known?" Monica saved them from the awkwardness.

"About three years," Chandler answered.

"You didn't tell us for three years?" Phoebe sounded offended.

"I'm sorry," no one liked to be lied to or feel out of the loop. Chandler should have told them ages ago, but at least half of those years he spent hating himself for it. "I was scared of what you guys would think."

"You really thought we wouldn't be okay with it?" Rachel asked.

"No, it's not that. I had all this stuff to get past about how now everything I do seems different or something. I don't wanna be my dad."

"No one thinks you're like your dad," Rachel assured. It was a relief to hear. He blamed his father for how long it took to accept himself, but truthfully, he knew it was misplaced. Both his mother and father would easily accept him. It was Chandler who had the problem.

Phoebe stuck a finger in the air. "Actually, I have the perfect guy to set you up with!"

###

Chandler put it off as long as he could, but after two weeks, he was on the way to meet his blind date. He wasn't even sure why he was this reluctant to go considering he had been alone so long. It was something he should have been eager to amend, but the concept of actually going out and meeting a guy filled him with anxiety. He was self-conscious beyond comparison and that came across to potential dates. It might have been part of the reason they all ended miserably.

Chandler decided to walk. He was already sweating and needed the cool, winter air to chill him before a pool formed beneath his armpits.

A strange feeling overcame him as he cut through the park, a feeling that loomed for the past couple weeks. It was something he never felt before, but now it was undeniable. It was like he was being watched.

He glanced over his shoulder and scanned the area, finding nothing but a few people scattered in the vicinity. A man on his phone, an old woman on the bench, and a younger woman holding the hand of a mitton-ed child. Chandler frowned and turned back around. He adopted a new habit of keeping track of the people around him, although he wasn't great with faces. So far, he had not seen the same person twice, but this did not assuage the sensation.

He hunched his shoulders. "It's nothing," he muttered, "No one wants to follow you. You're the most boring guy in New York. And now I'm talking to myself. I'm going insane."

His preoccupation caused him to lose track of time and without realizing he had even arrived, the restaurant was upon him. It wasn't exceedingly fancy, but it wasn't cheap either. That meant at least forty-five minutes of forced conversation between waiting for the server, ordering, eating, and paying the check.

JOEY

Things with Chandler had always been simple to Joey. Chandler was his best friend, they spent all their time together, and if Joey needed something, Chandler was there. Their snits were few and far between and hardly noteworthy. One of the friends would sulk for two days and then move on, completely forgetting about the event.

Joey loved all of his friends, but the time he spent with Chandler was different. He could have spent all day, every day with him and never gotten sick of his presence. They were close in ways Joey wasn't previously familiar with. One of his most treasured memories was after he found out that one of his friends died. Joey put on a brave face and tried to act unaffected — after all, this was someone from high school who he hadn't seen in years — but the death struck a chord in him.

After the funeral, he and Chandler shared a silent cab ride home. Joey announced to the group that he was going to sleep and not to worry about him, then disappeared into his room, under the safety of his covers. He didn't hold it against his friends for not coming to his side or realizing how torn up he was, but he still wanted someone to walk through his door and tell him it was going to be okay.

He was so busy wallowing, he didn't hear when the door actually did open. He wasn't aware there was another presence in the room at all until fingertips brushed his back. Joey yelped and jumped forward, tumbling over the edge of the bed.

"Woah!" Chandler leaned over the side of the mattress to see Joey laying on the ground, "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Joey grunted and climbed back onto the mattress. He laid on his back and Chandler did the same. "You okay?" Chandler asked.

"Dunno," he answered honestly.

"What are you thinking?" It was a question they asked each other many times. It meant 'Tell me what's wrong. I want to know what's going on in there. Let me share your burden', but in a way they could bear to say.

"I hadn't seen her in like ten years, but it still got to me. I don't know what upset me so bad about it. It's like, she had this whole life ahead of her, you know? And now it's gone."

Chandler nodded. "Yeah. It's not fair."

Joey appreciated the honesty of his reply. It was a bleak reality and Chandler wouldn't lie to him or offer a weak, half-hearted platitude about the beautiful fragility that was life. Chandler was always truthful with him.

"Do you have any regrets?" Joey surprised himself with the question.

Chandler shimmied closer to Joey. "Some."

"Me too."

The backs of their hands brushed together. Chandler was always warm, running hot from his perpetual anxiety. Chandler wiggled his hand and laced his fingers through Joey's. It felt right, easy, to hold hands with Chandler. He felt less alone and scared.

That was when Joey thought Chandler could never keep a secret from him. For the past couple weeks, things had changed. Chandler came out of the closet, rocking Joey's world. His best friend, who he was supposed to know everything about, was lying to him for the entirety of their relationship.

"I don't get why he wouldn't tell me," Joey said as he rested his face on Monica's table, "I thought we were friends."

"It's not because of you," Monica said from her station in front of the stainless steel sink, scrubbing dishes, "He needed time. You know how Chandler is."

"How?"

"Neurotic to the point of high blood pressure."

"Yeah," Joey wasn't entirely sure what she meant, but he did know that Chandler clearly had some internalized hatred to work through.

"Don't take it personally."

"It's not just that."

"What is it?" Monica seemed to be losing interest with each sentence.

"We don't hang out like we used to," he missed the simplicity of their friendship. He never before whined at Monica's table that his friend didn't spend enough time with him. This was embarrassing, but he couldn't help it.

"Ugh, I don't know, Joey. Are you sure you're not gay too?" she snapped. Joey looked at her with puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry. I have a lot of stuff to do before work. Why don't you talk to Phoebe?"

"Okay," he frowned, already starting an hour long sulk in retaliation to the outburst.

Joey dragged his feet to the couch and flipped on the TV. The next two hours moved by without Joey registering them. He thought about Chandler and how things were changing. Nothing could stay the same forever.

It wasn't until after dark that Phoebe walked in.

"I need you to take this out of the oven in twenty minutes. I set the alarm. Can you do that?" Monica asked Phoebe with excessive intensity.

"Yes, yes," Phoebe held up her hands, acting scared of the behavior.

"You don't trust me to take it out of the oven?" Joey asked.

"I have to go," she grabbed her keys off the counter, "Bye."

"Heya, Pheebs."

"Hi, Joey," she fell onto the sofa beside him, "Watcha doin'?"

"Watching TV. You?"

"I had a gig at Central Perk and didn't feel like driving home."

Joey tried to focus on the sitcom that was playing, but eventually he couldn't hold back anymore. "How about Chandler's news, huh?"

"I'm so glad he finally came out."

"Did you know?"

"I sense these things," she pointed to her head to indicate that it was some sort of psychic ability.

"Does it bother you he didn't tell anyone?" Joey asked.

"Not really. That's Chandler for you."

Strike two. The second person who was unconcerned by Chandler hiding something from them.

She tilted her head. "Does it bother you?"

Joey shrugged. "I guess, a little bit. We're best friends; we're supposed to tell each other everything."

"Are you sure that's what this is about?" She asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe you're thinking about Chandler for a different reason. Maybe you like him and now you're scared because you don't know if he likes you or not."

"Come on, Phoebe. That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Okay," she re-situated herself on the couch so that she was facing Chandler with her legs crossed, "Who is your favorite person to be around?"

"Chandler, but-"

"And who do you miss most when they're not around?"

"Chandler."

"And if you had to spend the rest of your life with someone, who would it be?"

"Ch-" he started to reply before he registered what he was saying. The answer came naturally. "No," Joey breathed as the realization dawned on him.

"Yes!" Phoebe squealed.

"I like Chandler?" It felt unreal to say aloud.

"This is so great. You guys will be perfect together."

"No, wait. He doesn't like me. And I'm not gay."

"I know you're not. Trust me," she added a wink and Joey grinned wolfishly in return, "But this is Chandler. I mean c'mon, you guys are meant to be together."

After the realization hit him, he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. If Chandler was gay, did that mean all those moments they had together meant something to him? The times that they would sit silently together, simply enjoying the other's presence. The late nights they sat up watching TV and giggling at infomercials. The early mornings that Chandler would wake up Joey with pancakes before work. All the things he saw as nothing more than friendship before were bathed in a new light.

"I have to talk to him," Joey stood up.

"Oh no," Phoebe held a hand over her mouth.

"What is it?

"I set him up on a date."

"Oh," Joey dropped back onto the couch.

"It's fine, he probably won't even like him."

"Really?" Joey asked hopefully.

"No, he's great. But it doesn't matter, it's just a first date."

"Yeah," it wasn't like Chandler was going to come in and announce he was in a relationship now. This didn't mean anything, although it did dampen his enthusiasm.

###

"Chandler!" Joey raced up to his friend who was cutting through the park. The collar of his trench coat was upturned and he had his hands dug into his pocket. A stray snowflake floated down onto his hair.

"Hi. What's up?" Chandler asked.

"Going to Central Perk. Coffee?"

"Mm, hot coffee sounds great right now."

The entire city lay beneath a sheet of snow and thousands of icicles clung to awnings all over Manhattan. Joey didn't mind the New York winters, but Chandler complained every year for three months straight.

"So how was the date?" Joey couldn't wait to ask.

"It was good. Really good, actually. I think I'm going to see him again."

"Oh, yeah?" It was still only a first date, Joey reminded himself. Chandler glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

Joey swallowed down fear. "I wanted to ask you-"

"Do you ever feel like you're being watched?"

"Uh, when I'm onstage."

"Guess that's a dumb question to ask an actor. I don't know. I keep getting this weird feeling lately. It's probably nothing."

Joey was regaining the courage to begin again, when Chandler interrupted him, "I've been thinking these past few weeks."

The conversation was getting pushed further and further away. "About what?"

"These past couple years with you were really good, but I think I got dependent on you. I'm sorry."

Things were swinging in the opposite direction than Joey was trying to move in. It was bittersweet to hear Chandler say that he was dependent on Joey when it was something he was apologizing for. "Don't be sorry," Joey said.

"No, but I am. I feel like I took advantage of our friendship. But I'm not gonna do that anymore, okay?"

Joey stared numbly at Chandler while they walked. He wasn't smiling but his face looked soft and his eyes were bright. He didn't look miserable to be proactively rejecting Joey or any relationship they might have. He couldn't pick apart any of it. Had Chandler felt the same about Joey, but moved on? Or maybe he never had those feelings at all. The one thing he knew for sure was he wasn't going to be offering any love confessions to his best friend tonight.

A/N: I don't know if there's anyone left in this fandom who likes Chandler whump, or I may just be shouting into the void. Regardless, this was fun to write.

Always in search of a beta.