Chapter Seven

Her eyes just didn't cry anymore. She figured it was because of all the crying she'd done in the past two months away from him, but there was no way to tell why tears just didn't come. Even when she felt the pain rip at her heart, which was every day, she didn't feel so much as one tear. And this was good… it made people think that she was doing okay. It made everybody think she was doing fine… that she'd moved on. Even if none of it was true.

Every day became a routine. Living didn't seem like living anymore. There were no more tears, but the suffering, the heartache… it was enough to make her collapse. Yet she had no intention of giving up. She wouldn't give up… not when she promised herself she wouldn't… not after the ten years she stayed strong. But every day she found it harder to stay secure. She needed a reason to hold onto life. She used to know happiness. She used to have a reason. That reason was gone. And now she was left alone with nothing at all.

Monica held her arms around her knees and buried her face. This was not living. She didn't do anything anymore. Monica got up and turned on the radio. She sighed when she heard the words to the song playing.

Young girl, don't cry I'll be right here when your world starts to fall

Young girl, it's all right

Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly

When you're safe inside your room, you tend to dream

Of a place where nothing's harder than it seems

No one ever wants or bothers to explain

Of the heartache life can bring and what it means

Monica shook her head. "It's not alright," she muttered as if speaking to the radio, "I'll never be free to fly."

She'd heard the song millions of times before, years ago. Then she didn't bother to listen to the meaning of the words. "Silly love songs… silly heartbreak songs. They're such bullshit."

When Monica heard the phone ring, she jumped. No one called her for four weeks, and she wasn't exactly expecting anyone to soon. She let it ring until she heard the message being played back to her.

"Hey Mon, it's Phoebe. I'm coming over. Please let me in when I come… you need to talk to someone. And I won't lecture you about your feelings for him. I'm just going to try to help."

"No one can help me!" Monica cried, not even caring that nobody could hear her. But she heard the desperation in her friend's voice, so she went over to the door and unlocked it. Within a few minutes, Monica heard the door open and close, but she didn't bother to turn her head from the couch, stop hugging her knees, or even greet Phoebe. When she sat down next to Monica, Monica remained silent.

"You know this isn't healthy for you," Phoebe started. She started this way because there was no other way. She was shocked to see her best friend in the condition she was in. There were dark circles under her eyes, she lost much weight, her hair was knotty, she was wearing her pajamas, and Phoebe saw that the spark once in her eyes was gone. There was no more happiness, determination, or sparkle in them. There was just pain. Pain and fear.

"You told me you wouldn't lecture me," Monica shot back.

"I'm not. I'm helping you."

"Like I told you a month earlier, I don't need help." Monica shifted her eyes from her friend to her hands to straight-ahead. She kept her eyes focused on the TV set in front of her, although it was turned off. Monica knew that Phoebe could see right through her by her eyes. She didn't want her to see all of the pain built up inside of her.

"Okay, I respect your opinion, Mon. I do. But… just think logically for one second. If you didn't need help, you'd be able to leave the apartment. You'd change out of your PJ's and you wouldn't have an empty fridge just because for two months, you haven't seen outside. You haven't seen life. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that you don't need help? Mon, you're not living. All you're doing to tell us that you are still with us is breathing. You're not even eating anymore! Why would you do this to yourself?"

Monica shook her head. "I'm not doing anything to myself."

"Mon, who are you turning to be? I just… I don't even understand you anymore," Phoebe whispered gently. She sadly smiled and put her arm around Monica's shoulders.

"You don't understand me? Well, then walk a day in my shoes, feel what I feel, then realize why I do what I do."

"I'm sorry, Mon. Well, then… just tell me, what are you waiting for in life?"

"I'm not waiting for anything… because I'm not expecting much." Monica finally stood up and paced back and forth. Phoebe stood up with her.

"Mon, he can't be the love of your life! Why don't you just try and love someone else? Maybe you'll see that you were wrong."

"Why love a thousand guys when you could love one guy a thousand ways?" Monica went over to the window and looked out. The stars were bright and the city was bustling with energy. Monica sighed. There wasn't a person in the world that knew how she felt. She was alone. Monica put her fingers to the cold glass. "I'm trying to erase a name out of my heart that shouldn't be there anymore. But… it's just so difficult. When I close my eyes… all I can see is the times he made me smile. But when I open them, all of the pain rushes back to me, tearing me down." Monica fell down and buried her face in her hands.

Tears just didn't come anymore…

-~-

Ten roses…

Chandler touched the soft, silky pedals and sighed. Who would send them to him? When he first saw them he smiled, thinking it was Rachel. Then he realized that it couldn't have been her. He sighed once more and put the flowers into a large cup of water. Monica was the only one that knew where he was staying. But then again, she probably told the others anyway. Chandler figured that it must have been one of them. He hadn't seen the gang in months… or even talked to them. He took out his cell phone and dialed the familiar digits.

"Hello?"

"Hey Ross," Chandler greeted, uncertain. He hadn't heard Ross's voice in months… the months seeming like years.

"Chandler… is that you? Wow, I thought you'd never call!" At least his voice sounded relieved.

"Yeah, about that…"

"No need to explain. You have a love to complete, I understand that."

"Yeah… so Monica told you all about her, huh?"

"Sure she did. Right when you found her… she called us every week."

Chandler sat on the bed and lifted his feet into it. "Yeah, she really is a great friend, isn't she? Always doing what she's supposed to. How – how is she?"

"Umm…" Chandler heard Ross hesitate. "She's fine," Ross finally decided to say.

"Good," Chandler whispered. "Do you have any idea why she left me?"

"She didn't leave you. She just left California."

"Well then why did she leave California?"

"You don't need her anymore… you have your own girl."

But I do need her. "Yeah… I guess you have a point."

"How are you Chandler?"

"I'm – fine. Happy as can be. But I've got to say… I miss you all."

"Yeah, well we miss you too. But we weren't the ones that left our closest friends for some stupid dream," Ross said, sounding both hurt and angry.

Chandler felt a stab of both pain and guilt hit him. He knew Ross was right. "I – I'm still going to see you guys."

"Yeah, like once a year."

"I know it won't be the same… but I'm happy," Chandler told his friend, trying to make him understand.

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Are you really, truly happy?"

"Yes!"

"Then what's with your tone? Why does it sound so downhearted?"

"Ross, don't get on my nerves. I'm happy, that's all that matters."

"Tell me straight out that you're happy."

"I'm happy! What's with you, Ross?" Chandler asked, surprised by Ross's confrontation.

"Why are you happy?" Ross asked, ignoring Chandler's last remark.

"Because of Rachel. I think I'm in love with her."

"And why do you love her?"

"I – Ross, what's with the third degree?" Chandler heard Ross take a deep breath and sigh.

"Answer me, Chandler," Ross said, sounding surprisingly demanding.

"I – I don't know. She's the woman in my dreams, that's why," Chandler answered.

"Is that all?"

"What do you mean? That's why I love her…"

"You mean she has no qualities that make you love her?"

"I love lots of things about her, okay? Why are you asking all of these questions?"

"Why are you being so protective? You'd tell Monica all of this stuff," Ross said, trying to make a point.

Chandler felt a tear form in his eye just at the mention of the closeness they used to have. "Yeah, you're right, I would. But you're not Monica."

Ross took a deep breath once more. "Why, Chandler?" he whispered. Chandler sat there for a few minutes, not understanding Ross's reaction.

"What?"

"Never mind," Ross said.

"Ross, what's going on? Why are you acting so differently?"

"Just forget it."

"Fine," Chandler said, his turn to sound irritated. He stood up from the bed and walked over to the window, remembering the day she left him.

"Why are you so close to Monica?" Ross asked, ruining Chandler's train of thought.

"Wow, that'll take a while," Chandler joked, shrugging off the fact that he was avoiding the subject of Monica.

"I'm serious, Chandler. Tell me."

"I – really?"

"Yes."

"Well… why shouldn't we be? We've known each other for ten years. Monica's always been there for me. There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't see her, when I didn't laugh with her. She's beautiful… her eyes… you can get lost in them. Whenever I was upset, I'd go to her for comfort, and just seeing her deep, blue eyes made me forget why I was even upset…" Chandler trailed off, remembering just months ago.

"Go on," Ross whispered.

"And her smile… it lit up your world even at the darkest of places. She knows what to say whenever you need comforting. And you could never get mad at her… I don't think I've ever been mad at her. And her burning pride makes her all the greatest. Her competitiveness shows her true nature… and she doesn't care what other's think about her. I could never do that. Her hands are perfect… they fit around mine as if they were made to be there. But the greatest quality about her…" Chandler sighed and looked away from the window. He traced his fingers over the paper with her perfect, round letters.

"Yeah?" Ross said, his voice begging him to continue.

"When I look up she's the brightest star. She's my colored picture in a world of black and white." Chandler put the note down and shifted his eyes to the ten roses. He's known her for ten years… "Where is she?"

"Monica? She – she's in your – her apartment."

"Where are you? Are you with her? Can I talk to her?" Chandler frantically asked.

"Ok, calm down. First, my apartment. You called me, remember? Second, no. Third, no."

"Why can't I talk to her?" Chandler questioned, desperate to hear her voice.

"She's not here."

"Ok. Well, I have to go. Can you tell everyone I said hi?"

"Sure. Bye… call us."

"I will. Bye," Chandler said, and hung up the phone. He put his cell down and looked at the flowers. He went to pick one up but pricked his finger. Chandler silently cursed himself and reached out for the rose once more. Ten years… ten roses. Chandler picked up his phone once more. When he dialed the numbers, he listened to the phone ring, then the machine come on. He left his message and hung up his phone once more. Chandler sat on the small chair and ran his fingers through his hair when he realized what he'd just done.

When asked why he loved Rachel, he said it was because of a dream.

When asked why he was so close to Monica, he couldn't stop listing the reasons.

Chandler stared at the rose. When I close my eyes at night, I realize that no one ever could ever take your place. Chandler wasn't so sure who he was directing this to… Rachel or Monica.

My life, my love, my friend.

-~-

Monica heard her the beep on her machine, indicating that she had a new message. Monica looked over at Phoebe, who looked back at her expectantly.

"Do you want me to play it?" Phoebe asked, already walking toward the phone. Monica shrugged, so Phoebe hit the 'messages' sign.

"You have two new messages."

Monica sighed and pushed her face into the cushions of the couch, lying on her stomach. It was probably just Ross and Joey.

"Hey Mon, it's Ross. Mon? Mon? Pick up, please. I have something I need to tell you."

Monica heard the beep, crawled over to the machine, and deleted the message.

"You have one new message."

Monica knew it was Joey, or it was just Ross calling again. She put her finger near the delete button, preparing to dispose the message. She heard the beep again, telling her the message was playing. When there was complete silence for a few seconds, Monica took her fingers away from the delete button. She waited a few more seconds, then heard the voice.

"No matter what, we're going to stick together. Because when I said best friends… I meant forever."

Monica's heart flipped at the sound of Chandler's voice. Monica looked desperately at Phoebe, silently asking her, "What next?" She stood up from the couch and paced from the kitchen to the TV and back. Phoebe followed Monica.

"What now?" Monica finally asked out loud, turning to Phoebe. Phoebe sighed and played with her fingers.

"What do you mean?"

"Phoebe! Did you not hear? Chandler…" Monica cut herself short, letting Phoebe pick the choice of words for the rest of the sentence.

"He called, so?" Phoebe said, trying to play dumb, so maybe Monica would realize it wasn't a big deal. Her plan didn't work.

"He called," Monica whispered. She went over to the machine and re-played the message a few times, listening to his voice intently. She was going to keep the message. She wasn't going to forget the sound of Chandler's voice. Monica sighed. "Why does he have to do this to me? Why couldn't he just completely ignore me?" Monica went over to the back of the couch and sat onto the floor, hugging her knees. She rocked herself slowly back and forth.

"Mon, you can forget about him. Just delete the message, and you'll start your own life. Forget about him, he'll forget about you!"

"Do you actually expect me to do that? I can't, Phoebes. You don't just love someone deeply for ten years and forget about him. I don't care if he forgets about me. I just know that I'll never forget about him." Monica stopped rocking herself but remained on the floor and hugging her knees.

"But you can…"

"Phoebe, I'd like to be alone right now," Monica whispered. She wasn't mad at Phoebe… she just needed to be by herself.

"Please, don't-"

"No, Phoebe… please. Please."

Phoebe sighed. "Fine. When can I come back?"

"Not soon, Phoebe. Please, just don't call me, don't come here, don't worry about me," Monica begged, her voice low. She got up walked over to the door.

Phoebe followed her. "Okay. But please… promise this one thing…"

"Yeah?"

"Don't hurt yourself. Promise me you'll start eating, you'll get out. Please."

"No, Phoebe. I'm doing fine. I'm okay, I'm not hurting." It even sounded ridiculous to her.

Phoebe decided to leave the fact alone. "Whatever you say, Mon." Phoebe hugged Monica tightly, shutting her eyes. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Monica said, hugging her back. Without another word, Phoebe left the apartment, leaving Monica alone. Phoebe was there for about two hours, trying to convince Monica to get over Chandler. Nothing she said made Monica change her mind or her feelings. Monica slowly walked over to the balcony and climbed out onto it, not caring that it was pouring rain. She needed Chandler. Hearing the message just made things worse. She looked down at the city and traced her fingers over the edge of the balcony. There were days when Monica and Chandler would sit out in the rain and watch the view. Monica would be huddled in Chandler's arms and they would laugh at each other when seeing how wet they were. There were other sunny days where they threw water balloons at the people below them, laughing at the people's expressions. Monica sighed and looked to the back, right, and left of her.

Nope, this time there's no Chandler. He's not here with you… you're alone. Now you have to face rainy days without being huddled in his arms. Now you need to live without him.

-~-

Rachel kissed the tip of Chandler's nose, smiling. Chandler smiled back, but he didn't feel anything. Everything was mechanical – his movements, his words… everything except his thoughts. Wait… he was supposed to be enjoying this, wasn't he? Here he was with his soulmate, and all he could think about were roses. Stupid, thorny roses. Chandler kissed Rachel, thinking it'd make his thoughts turn to her.

It didn't.

"Hey, Rach? Want to go for a walk?" Chandler asked, wanting fresh air. Rachel nodded, so Chandler took her hand and walked out the door. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" He wanted to start a conversation, any conversation.

"Sure is," Rachel nodded.

Then silence.

"Just… y'know, out of curiosity… do you like hockey?" Chandler surprised even himself with his question.

"No, I never found it amusing to watch bruised up men whack at each other with sticks," Rachel yawned.

Monica used to like hockey. Monica and I always watched games together. Chandler shook his head from his thoughts.

"Do you like dogs?"

Rachel shook her head. "I'm more of a cat person."

Dogs were Monica's and my favorite animal.

"What about the park?"

"We're too old to be playing in parks… that's the way I see it."

Monica never thought we were too old to do anything.

"Do you like the clean?"

"Nah, I'm more of the laid back kind of gal," Rachel smiled.

This one goes without saying. Chandler smiled to himself.

"What about… comedians?"

"They joke too much," Rachel shook her head.

Monica didn't mind comedians… she didn't mind me. She loved comedians.

Suddenly, Chandler stopped walking. He was comparing his soulmate to his best friend… what as going on?

"Chandler?" Rachel asked, worried.

"No, I'm fine," Chandler replied and continued walking. Rachel didn't ask any questions.

Monica would have been genuinely concerned.

-~-

She walked back into the apartment soaked. She didn't bother to notice that the floor now was dripping wet – Chandler was the only thing on her mind, now and always. Monica sighed. Is this how she was going to live her life?

Obviously, there's no other way.

Monica fell to the floor and put her hands to her face. She closed her eyes, but all she could she was Chandler, standing there, kissing her. Monica opened her eyes and looked around her. No, Chandler was still in California. With Rachel. Monica stood up and walked over to the door to the right of the TV. She stopped in front of it. Would going in his room bring more pain? Or would it relieve her suffering? Monica shook her head. She knew one thing: she needed a memory of Chandler. A picture, a note… anything. Even in 20 years, she'd have something to remember him by.

Before, I wished that in twenty years my future would be with Chandler. But now that Chandler found his soulmate, not casting me a second glance, I have no reason to live.

Where did all of her happiness she once knew so well go? No, she knew the answer to that one. Chandler was the only happiness she knew… so her happiness was happy with somebody else. Monica slowly turned the knob and entered the room. The scent of Chandler swept her body, causing Monica to gasp. It was so… Chandler. She walked to his bed and laid down on it. For years, she wished she'd be able to lie down in this bed as Chandler's wife. It never happened. Monica took a pillow with her and walked over to the dresser. There, in the very middle, was a picture of Monica and Chandler hugging. Monica sadly smiled and took the picture. That was all she needed to feel a sob escape her throat … a tearless sob. Monica ran out of the room and fell onto the couch. She laid the pillow down and put the picture onto the coffee table. Since the pillow smelled like Chandler, Monica buried her face in it and sighed. Did she deserve this? Monica got up from the couch and slouched over to the kitchen. All of a sudden, Monica found herself swinging at glasses, throwing everything in sight at the floor.

"Why?" she yelled. "Why can't Chandler be here with me? Why!?" Monica took a cup and threw it against the wall, watching it shatter. That's what was happening to Monica. She was shattering… collapsing… her world was gone. Monica took plates and threw them against the floor. "I need him!" Monica shouted. All of a sudden, Monica fell to her knees and felt a single tear roll down her cheek. That was it… that was what caused Monica to cry for the first time in six weeks. Seeing his face, hearing his voice… remembering everything that she used to have. More tears fell down, the small tears forming into sobs. "I need him," she said to herself. "I don't know what to do." Monica pushed the broken pieces of glass away, but one small piece cut her finger. Monica winced. Monica looked at the blood running down her fingers and back at the glass. After a few more times of looked back and forth, Monica stood up, tears still falling.

Monica took it from the counter and stared at the cold, smooth metal.

Monica sighed and closed her eyes, only to see Chandler.

Monica put the handle in her right hand and stopped for one minute.

All of the thoughts of losing Chandler stored in Monica's mind. She lost him… she had nothing to live for.

Monica held the knife to her wrist and sighed.

What was the reason of living if you don't have anything to live for?

"I just wish you saw how perfect we could have been," Monica whispered. "I'll always love you. I meant forever, too, when I said best friends."

She sliced the sharp knife into her flesh.

And she watched the blood pour out.

She sliced her other wrist.

And watched the blood gush.

She held the knife to her arm.

And cut it open.

She held the knife in front of her.

And plunged it towards her.

To be continued…

I know, I'm sorry it took SO long! And just bear with me with the ending… I hope you still like it. I'm hoping for the next chapter to come a lot quicker than this once. Let me know what you think about this chapter and if I should continue or not. Review… it's the only way I'll know if you liked it! Sorry this chapter wasn't too good… I hope you don't start hating the series. Please give it a chance!