This written in a drabble style, but it's longer. This was actually supposed to be about 100 words, but I changed my mind. If you can't figure who this is talking about… then you need serious help. Because it's sooo obvious.

I have a book suggestion! It's called Speak, and it is beautifully written and probably in my top 20 books! (It's hard to get into my Top 20, believe me). I highly recommend it.

I don't own "Friends".

Dedicated to… :ponders:… um… whoever updates their story that I have on my faves first!

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"A Little Weird"

Secretly, he's always known it would turn out this way.

After all, when Ben had been born, she'd been more miserable than he'd ever seen her. The funny thing about this particular woman was the way she was miserable; she did not mope like Rachel might, or go to see her physic like Phoebe would. She got angry, and most of the time, she took it out on him.

And the really weird thing was, he'd always thought she was rather sexy when she was in a temper.

Especially if the anger was pointed at him.

When he had offered to marry her if she wasn't married by the time she was forty, it hadn't been a big deal, for either of them. She knew- or at least, she thought she knew- that she'd find better than the man who lived across the hall, the one who had the gay quality; the very same one that owned two copies of the 'Annie' soundtrack.

It hadn't been a big deal for him, simply because he already knew it would turn out that way. And only Ross denied fate; but he wasn't Ross, and he accepted fate grudgingly.

But sometimes, he welcomed destiny with open arms.

Boyfriends, girlfriends, days, weeks, months- they all passed by like a leaf in an autumn breeze, drifting down towards the newly-soaked grass; but then, suddenly, a gust of wind would wrench it out of its path and cause it to flutter upward for a brief second.

And that was what happened when Richard told her he didn't want more kids.

For six months, she'd been different. The high-pitched voice that rang through the apartment whenever he'd left the toilet seat up was there no more, and he found he missed it. Craved it, to a point. Wished he could flick a switch somewhere on the back of her neck, and her voice would be so high that only dogs could hear it.

Which, he had to admit to himself in the tiny black corner of his mind, was a little weird. He did not usually pine for certain voices.

And yet, he felt himself yearning to hear hers.

But eventually she got over Moustache Man; the high pitch in her voice came back full throttle, much to his happiness. She was back to normal, and with her came the late nights discussing everything from the fat content in the premium ice cream she bought to sex and love.

He felt safe talking to her, being with her. She made the sometimes-bleak world a little brighter, and it just felt right.

And yet again, something went off in his subconscious mind that maybe that was a bit strange. Shouldn't a girlfriend be the one who made the sun rise in the morning, not the ever-so-slightly neurotic, raven-haired woman who lived across the hall, the one he often considered his best friend?

Kathy had been a disaster. It wasn't like the leaf that was wrenched up because of a breeze; it was more like a tornado had ripped a tree out of the earth, thus there never were leaves to fall to the ground in the first place.

And of course, he was the tree, and Kathy and that guy she'd slept with were the tornado.

But after the mad tornado that had swept through the Valley of Chandler, Monica was the sun that began to peak through the clouds of sweatpants and phases and strip clubs.

Scratch that. To him, she'd always been a little more like a soft rain; gentle, soothing in its own way. Never too upbeat, but never downcast, like a rainstorm. The perfect kind of weather to walk in when the day seemed too bad to bear; that was her.

Yet, he had no other weather comparisons for the rest of his friends.

Perhaps if he'd looked back throughout the years and had added it all together, he would have noticed something. Something deeply strange and yet normal all that same time; something that didn't seem wrong or unusual to him, for he had already accepted it as fate and all of its mysteries.

He just hadn't realized he had.

When she'd kissed him that night in London, he had realized that it didn't feel weird one bit.

And maybe that was the strangest thing of them all.

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A little random piece that I hope you all enjoyed. Now, I am off to… answer an email that I should have answered yesterday! Please review, it makes me happy, and I'm sorry if it didn't make sense!