A/N Here ya go. Thanks for the great reviews on the last chapter, you guys
make my day. I struggled a bit with this one so I hope it's ok. Thanks to
David for proofing, love you!
He stared upwards, the dull white ceiling looming every closer. He could hear her breathing, her eyes clamped shut.
The room filled with a dusky grey light, the sun still having not risen from its hiding place beneath the buildings.
The low monotonous hum of traffic could be heard, as the city began to stir. He heard a small sigh coming from beside him.
"Morning," a voice murmured, and he felt her hand on his.
"Morning," he replied quietly. After a moment, he felt her leave the bed, her footsteps padding towards the bathroom.
His eyes never left the ceiling.
***
"He must have said which hotel?" Monica hissed to Joey, who shrugged.
"I told you that was all he said. He's at a hotel, and he'll collect his stuff soon."
As Monica began to reply, Rachel walked out of her bedroom, and she stopped herself just in time.
Chandler had left just two days ago, and Rachel still got upset at the mention of his name, convinced it was her fault.
"Don't stop on my account," she said, and the two looked embarrassed. "It's ok... we have to talk about him, I know..." A tear sprung to her eye, and she wiped it away quickly. "What were you saying?"
"Oh... I was just telling Monica that he's at a hotel," Joey repeated. "But he's going to be coming back for his stuff."
"Then that's it? He's gone?" Rachel said. "You guys, what are we gonna do? We can't just let him leave... because of me..."
"Sweetie, it's not your fault." Monica wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "He needed to know the truth; maybe he just hasn't realised that yet."
***
Two days.
48 hours.
48 hours ago they had walked out of that apartment.
48 hours ago he had lost his friends. He had lost himself.
Her voice swilled around in his mind.
"It was Phoebe.... She mugged me."
He faced a battle within himself. He loved Phoebe. She would never do something like that. She couldn't. Rachel must have made a mistake... but, why would she have said anything if she wasn't sure...
"Chandler?" Phoebe's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright? You've been really quiet..."
"I was thinking," he snapped.
"Oh." Phoebe fell silent. "Um..."
She knew she should tell him, and this fact was slowly eating her up inside. She could see he was miserable, she knew she'd caused this but somehow... she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to him yet.
"I'm going to work," he said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss. "I'll see you later?" He said it almost questionably, and she nodded reassuringly. "I'll be back about six," he said, before walking out the door.
As the door shut, she walked to the window, looking out on the street below. So many bustled along the street, surrounded by people, and as she looked around the cramped hotel room, she longed to be one of them.
Having no where to go, she yanked the curtains shut across the window, blocking off the outside world, casting a dim shadow across the room. She lay down on the bed, her eyes closing, but all she could see was he. His face, overcome with sadness, at the thought of losing his friends.
She'd done that to him.
How could she live with herself? How could she hurt him?
***
"Chandler?"
His co-worker eyed him quizzically.
"Oh... sorry what?" Chandler rubbed his eyes wearily.
"Have you got those numbers?"
"Yeah, sure."
And he pushed them over his desk, staring blankly at the screen, the rows of numbers merging together. He half heard his colleague give a casually 'Bye' but made no reply.
His eyelids heavy, since he had got no sleep last night, he leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes, hoping he could block out the sounds of his office, the bright fluorescent lights, which glared down over him angrily.
As soon as the blackness of his eyelids soothed his mind, flashes of his friends began to tease him, flickering for a just a moment before fading away again.
He missed them. He had phoned, to let them know he was ok. Joey's voice on the answering machine, made his heart pang. He was planning to go back after work. He had purposely picked a time when he hoped none of them would be around, although part of him ached to see them one last time.
Just to say goodbye.
***
Her thoughts stirred, as she awoke, the pillow damp from her tears.
She pushed her hair back from her face, glancing around the dingy hotel room. It was warm, the bed was comfy, and she had eaten just 2 hours ago. Yet Phoebe couldn't remember when she had last felt so unhappy. She knew why, she had no one to blame but herself. He had been living a life. He had his friends, an apartment, a job.
She was snatching that away bit by bit.
Happiness didn't suit Phoebe, she realised now.
But this didn't mean she could drag Chandler down to be miserable with her. He deserved more. She loved him too much to do that to him.
***
The stairs he'd climbed so many times, now seemed mountainous. He paused at the last step, listening intently for voices. But all he could hear was the overbearing silence.
He walked up. Apartment 19. His home.
But it didn't feel like it now. It wasn't his home anymore.
The door clicked open, as it always did, and he smiled to himself as he looked around. Joey couldn't have been here much since he left. The plates were still in the sink, the laundry still on his chair.
With an inner grin he muttered, "Guess Mon hasn't been here either."
Hurrying to his bedroom, he opened his closet, grabbing what he needed. But a voice made him freeze.
"Well, Ross said to meet him at 7." Joey's voice wafted into Chandler's bedroom.
"Oh okay," he heard Rachel sigh. "This place stinks Joey," she moaned, and Chandler could practically picture her scrunched up nose.
"Yeah... I haven't got round to cleaning up much since... y'know. Don't tell Monica!"
Rachel laughed. "Speaking of Mon, I'd better go check she's ready."
"Okay." Joey sighed, his eyes glancing wistfully towards Chandler's bedroom door, he walked over. He hadn't been inside since he'd left. Unable to bring himself to.
"Joey." A voice came from inside, and Joey took a step backwards.
"Dude! You nearly killed me!" he exclaimed, as Chandler walked into the living room.
Joey looked at him, his face pale, eyes withdrawn. He didn't know where he'd gone since he left, but he wasn't happy. It didn't take a genius to work that out.
Chandler gave a weak smile, which looked so alien on his face, and faded quickly. "Just getting my stuff," he said, offering an explanation for his return.
"Come back," Joey said bluntly, and Chandler's head dropped.
"I can't. I need her," he whispered.
"I need you," the reply came. "It's not the same without you. Nothing is."
"I'm sorry," was all that was replied, and Chandler, his bag over his shoulder, gave Joey a nod. "Bye," he said, trying to smile, and failing.
As Joey stood there, unsure what to do next, Chandler walked towards the door. As he entered the hallway, Rachel came out from Monica's apartment. They both stopped, neither meeting each other's eyes.
Both searching for something to say, before realising there was nothing.
With a sigh, so heavy for his age, Chandler walked past her to the stairs. Not wanting to leave, but realising he couldn't stay.
***
He swung the door open, his bag landing on the bed with a thump.
"Phoebe?" His voice echoed hauntingly around the empty apartment, the street below seemingly silent. His eyes gazed around; the curtains drawn shut, the glow of the city outside, battling to get inside.
Then he saw it. On the bed.
Fighting his fear, he picked it up, his eyes scanning the words, smudged by tears.
Desperate to break the silence screaming in his ears, he whispered the words that lay in front of him.
"I can't live a lie. I love you, probably more than you'll ever know. Tell Rachel I'm sorry."
She was gone. He was alone. It was over.
He stared upwards, the dull white ceiling looming every closer. He could hear her breathing, her eyes clamped shut.
The room filled with a dusky grey light, the sun still having not risen from its hiding place beneath the buildings.
The low monotonous hum of traffic could be heard, as the city began to stir. He heard a small sigh coming from beside him.
"Morning," a voice murmured, and he felt her hand on his.
"Morning," he replied quietly. After a moment, he felt her leave the bed, her footsteps padding towards the bathroom.
His eyes never left the ceiling.
***
"He must have said which hotel?" Monica hissed to Joey, who shrugged.
"I told you that was all he said. He's at a hotel, and he'll collect his stuff soon."
As Monica began to reply, Rachel walked out of her bedroom, and she stopped herself just in time.
Chandler had left just two days ago, and Rachel still got upset at the mention of his name, convinced it was her fault.
"Don't stop on my account," she said, and the two looked embarrassed. "It's ok... we have to talk about him, I know..." A tear sprung to her eye, and she wiped it away quickly. "What were you saying?"
"Oh... I was just telling Monica that he's at a hotel," Joey repeated. "But he's going to be coming back for his stuff."
"Then that's it? He's gone?" Rachel said. "You guys, what are we gonna do? We can't just let him leave... because of me..."
"Sweetie, it's not your fault." Monica wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "He needed to know the truth; maybe he just hasn't realised that yet."
***
Two days.
48 hours.
48 hours ago they had walked out of that apartment.
48 hours ago he had lost his friends. He had lost himself.
Her voice swilled around in his mind.
"It was Phoebe.... She mugged me."
He faced a battle within himself. He loved Phoebe. She would never do something like that. She couldn't. Rachel must have made a mistake... but, why would she have said anything if she wasn't sure...
"Chandler?" Phoebe's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright? You've been really quiet..."
"I was thinking," he snapped.
"Oh." Phoebe fell silent. "Um..."
She knew she should tell him, and this fact was slowly eating her up inside. She could see he was miserable, she knew she'd caused this but somehow... she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to him yet.
"I'm going to work," he said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss. "I'll see you later?" He said it almost questionably, and she nodded reassuringly. "I'll be back about six," he said, before walking out the door.
As the door shut, she walked to the window, looking out on the street below. So many bustled along the street, surrounded by people, and as she looked around the cramped hotel room, she longed to be one of them.
Having no where to go, she yanked the curtains shut across the window, blocking off the outside world, casting a dim shadow across the room. She lay down on the bed, her eyes closing, but all she could see was he. His face, overcome with sadness, at the thought of losing his friends.
She'd done that to him.
How could she live with herself? How could she hurt him?
***
"Chandler?"
His co-worker eyed him quizzically.
"Oh... sorry what?" Chandler rubbed his eyes wearily.
"Have you got those numbers?"
"Yeah, sure."
And he pushed them over his desk, staring blankly at the screen, the rows of numbers merging together. He half heard his colleague give a casually 'Bye' but made no reply.
His eyelids heavy, since he had got no sleep last night, he leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes, hoping he could block out the sounds of his office, the bright fluorescent lights, which glared down over him angrily.
As soon as the blackness of his eyelids soothed his mind, flashes of his friends began to tease him, flickering for a just a moment before fading away again.
He missed them. He had phoned, to let them know he was ok. Joey's voice on the answering machine, made his heart pang. He was planning to go back after work. He had purposely picked a time when he hoped none of them would be around, although part of him ached to see them one last time.
Just to say goodbye.
***
Her thoughts stirred, as she awoke, the pillow damp from her tears.
She pushed her hair back from her face, glancing around the dingy hotel room. It was warm, the bed was comfy, and she had eaten just 2 hours ago. Yet Phoebe couldn't remember when she had last felt so unhappy. She knew why, she had no one to blame but herself. He had been living a life. He had his friends, an apartment, a job.
She was snatching that away bit by bit.
Happiness didn't suit Phoebe, she realised now.
But this didn't mean she could drag Chandler down to be miserable with her. He deserved more. She loved him too much to do that to him.
***
The stairs he'd climbed so many times, now seemed mountainous. He paused at the last step, listening intently for voices. But all he could hear was the overbearing silence.
He walked up. Apartment 19. His home.
But it didn't feel like it now. It wasn't his home anymore.
The door clicked open, as it always did, and he smiled to himself as he looked around. Joey couldn't have been here much since he left. The plates were still in the sink, the laundry still on his chair.
With an inner grin he muttered, "Guess Mon hasn't been here either."
Hurrying to his bedroom, he opened his closet, grabbing what he needed. But a voice made him freeze.
"Well, Ross said to meet him at 7." Joey's voice wafted into Chandler's bedroom.
"Oh okay," he heard Rachel sigh. "This place stinks Joey," she moaned, and Chandler could practically picture her scrunched up nose.
"Yeah... I haven't got round to cleaning up much since... y'know. Don't tell Monica!"
Rachel laughed. "Speaking of Mon, I'd better go check she's ready."
"Okay." Joey sighed, his eyes glancing wistfully towards Chandler's bedroom door, he walked over. He hadn't been inside since he'd left. Unable to bring himself to.
"Joey." A voice came from inside, and Joey took a step backwards.
"Dude! You nearly killed me!" he exclaimed, as Chandler walked into the living room.
Joey looked at him, his face pale, eyes withdrawn. He didn't know where he'd gone since he left, but he wasn't happy. It didn't take a genius to work that out.
Chandler gave a weak smile, which looked so alien on his face, and faded quickly. "Just getting my stuff," he said, offering an explanation for his return.
"Come back," Joey said bluntly, and Chandler's head dropped.
"I can't. I need her," he whispered.
"I need you," the reply came. "It's not the same without you. Nothing is."
"I'm sorry," was all that was replied, and Chandler, his bag over his shoulder, gave Joey a nod. "Bye," he said, trying to smile, and failing.
As Joey stood there, unsure what to do next, Chandler walked towards the door. As he entered the hallway, Rachel came out from Monica's apartment. They both stopped, neither meeting each other's eyes.
Both searching for something to say, before realising there was nothing.
With a sigh, so heavy for his age, Chandler walked past her to the stairs. Not wanting to leave, but realising he couldn't stay.
***
He swung the door open, his bag landing on the bed with a thump.
"Phoebe?" His voice echoed hauntingly around the empty apartment, the street below seemingly silent. His eyes gazed around; the curtains drawn shut, the glow of the city outside, battling to get inside.
Then he saw it. On the bed.
Fighting his fear, he picked it up, his eyes scanning the words, smudged by tears.
Desperate to break the silence screaming in his ears, he whispered the words that lay in front of him.
"I can't live a lie. I love you, probably more than you'll ever know. Tell Rachel I'm sorry."
She was gone. He was alone. It was over.
