Monica stood outside her apartment for the second time that night and just stared at the green door, almost in a trance. She felt even more confused than she had an hour ago...was it really just an hour ago? Her head was pounding her mind hurting from all the confusion.

With a resigned sigh she finally turned the handle, pushing it open to see who waited for her the other side.

"Monica?" Rachel jumped up, running over to her, ""What happened to you? You're soaking! Where have you been?"

"Oh," she looked down at herself as if only just noticing. "I went for a walk. I got wet."

"Yeaaaah," we can see that Rachel frowned, taking her hand and guiding her into the apartment and onto a kitchen chair.

"Do you want something to drink?" Phoebe asked, "we bought all kinds of liquor."

"No thanks," she shook her head, knowing that getting drunk really wouldn't help anything. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Rachel frowned at her. "What happened? I mean, I know you've gone through a lot tonight but you seemed ok with it earlier."

"Things change," she murmured, focussing her gaze on her hands where they rested on the table.

Phoebe and Rachel shared a concerned look behind her back.

"Mon," Rachel tried, "talk to us, what happened?"

Her eyes turned to Rachel, and then to Phoebe and she shook her head as tears started to come to her eyes. God, she hated crying and couldn't remember the last time she'd cried so much, "everything," she finally admitted, "last week I was happy, I had a fiancé and a future and now it's all gone wrong. Everything's so messed up."

"You made the right choice," Rachel reassured her, "you couldn't marry him, it might hurt now but the fact you did the right thing will bring you some comfort, I promise and you have all your friends here to look after you." Monica shook her head as if not believing her and Rachel continued passionately, "we all love you Monica, so much and-"

"That's the problem," she protested, gratefully accepting a tissue from Phoebe.

Rachel waited, stroking her friend's arm, puzzled, but trying to remain patient.

"What's the problem?" Phoebe finally probed.

Monica studied the table in front of her, her fingers scrunching up the tissue. Should she tell them? They were her girlfriends, she told them everything but this wasn't her secret, was it? Although it did involve her now. He'd involved her, so surely that gave her the right to tell her friends? To seek their support. She needed them right now, desperately.

"Chandler's in love with me," she finally admitted quietly.

The girls exchanged a confused glance.

"How did you find out?" Phoebe asked, "I thought he just kissed you?"

"He told me," she said quietly, not surprised that the others already knew about their kiss. "And I didn't take it well, I said some things to him that I shouldn't but I just," fresh tears escaped, "why is he doing this now?" she asked them, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Why did he have to chose tonight to tell me? Doesn't he think I've got enough on my plate? I just literally broke up with my fiancé less than 3 hours ago, I can't just jump into a relationship with him. Why couldn't he just have waited?"

The girls exchanged another look.

"So...do you want a relationship with him?" Rachel frowned, remembering what Phoebe had said earlier.

"I don't know!" Monica confessed, her watery eyes meeting her roommates, "I've got so much flying around my brain that if I think about Chandler it's gonna burst!"

"Ok, ok," Phoebe soothed her, "look Monica, why don't you go and get out of those wet clothes, take a hot bath and try to relax a little. We'll make some hot chocolate and we can have a girly evening, talk or watch movies or do whatever you want, ok?"

She smiled a little, grateful they were there with her during this time of unsettled madness, "thank you," she nodded, "I'd like that."

They watched as she stood up and shuffled towards the bathroom. Silently, Phoebe started to mop up the water as Rachel went to fetch a variety of blankets and check their ice cream supplies. They were gonna get her through this. They just hoped Joey could do the same for Chandler.

The door to apartment 19 slammed closed and Joey spun around to face his roommate.

"There you are!" He said relieved, but still a little worked up, "Where have you been? You said you were going home ages ago! What happened?"

"What happened?" he snapped, his frustration and anger hadn't dampened despite the weather, "I took your damn advice that's what happened!"

"What are you talking about?" Joey's eyebrows knitted together as he watched Chandler shrug out of his soaking wet jacket.

"You told me to tell her," he poked a finger into his roommate's chest, none too gently.

"Who?"

"Monica!" he exploded, not believing that Joey could have already forgotten their conversation. "You told me to talk to her and guess what? Now she hates me! She wants nothing more to do with me. I ruined everything I ever had with her because of your stupid advice!"

Chandler practically stomped into his bedroom, slamming both halves of the door. He knew he was being unfair to Joey. It wasn't his fault, not at all. But he was angry and felt the need to lash out, hoping it would make him feel better. It didn't, it made him feel even worse.

"I was trying to help!" he heard the Italian yell through his door, and he leant his head against it a moment trying to calm himself.

Slowly he pushed open the top half of the door, able to see his roommate standing on the other side.

"I'm sorry," Chandler said softly, completely deflating as he ran a hand through his soaking hair. "It's not your fault, Joey, ok, it's mine; it's all on me."

"Chandler-"

He shook his head, too upset, too everything to talk about this, "look," he interrupted him, "I'm not great company tonight, so can you just leave me alone?"

Joey met his pained eyes and swallowed, nodding hesitantly, "ok," he finally agreed much to Chandler's relief, "but if you change your mind, I'm here, ok?"

"Sure," Chandler nodded, closing the top section and leaning his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He stripped out of his wet clothes, leaving them in a pile on his floor as he slipped on his comfortable sweats and t-shirt. He opened the window, really not caring if he got hypothermia right now as he grabbed his cigarettes and lighter and collapsed back onto his bed. He stared at the nondescript ceiling, trying to clear his mind. Trying to push all the feelings back into that little box at the back of his brain; trying to contain them so he wouldn't have to deal with them.

By tomorrow he had to have a grip on them and be wearing a new mask. One that could get him through another conversation with Monica. One where he could deny what he'd said. Take back his declaration of love and play it down as a little crush that he was already getting over. Apologize profusely at the timing and for upsetting her. And pray that it would be enough that she'd want to be friends again.

It was all about damage control.

He wanted her in his life, however she'd have him. She was such an amazing person and he didn't know if he'd be able to survive without her friendship. It was meant too much to him.

He couldn't take back what had happened, but he just prayed he that he could do enough lying in order to fix it.

A long night of wallowing and preparation lay ahead of him.

Monica grabbed her blanket and shuffled out of her bedroom. It was still the middle of the night, but she couldn't sleep. So many thoughts were flying around her head. She was certain she'd made the right choice about Pete. It still felt strange, surreal almost, but she was comfortable with not getting married tomorrow or continuing her relationship with the millionaire. She was at peace at that decision.

The bigger questions bombarding her brain now were all focussed on the bombshell Chandler had dropped on her tonight. He was in love with her? Since when? Her confused mind had started working backwards, trying to find any evidence of what he said to be true. She remembered his demeanor changing as the wedding approached. That every smile and laugh seemed that little bit more forced. Was that because he was hurting over the wedding? Had he really been prepared to stand back and let her marry Pete, despite his own unhappiness?

If so he really didn't deserve her anger earlier. Her mind kept playing images of his crestfallen face.

It was no good. She needed answers. Now.

Phoebe was asleep on the couch and Monica crept passed her quietly and out of the apartment. She eyed up the boys' door and took a deep breath before trying the handle; grateful when it opened easily.

She slipped in, closing the door behind her. Their apartment was dark and still and she briefly wondered if she was doing the right thing. Could it wait until morning? She glanced at the boys' clock the large red digits informing her it was just past two am. She couldn't survive another 5 hours alone, playing their conversation around in her head; she'd go crazy. Besides, she suspected he wouldn't be asleep.

Decision made, she made her way through their living room and gingerly pushed open his door. The silhouette on the bed turned to her instantly, sleep obviously eluding him as well. Moments later a bedside lamp was switched on, flooding the room with artificial lighting, causing her to wince and shield her eyes.

"Monica?" he asked surprised, unsure if he was dreaming.

"Can we talk?" she asked and he instantly nodded, getting up from the bed.

Wordlessly, he followed her into the living room, the light from his bedroom casting an eerie glow into the room. He could see her face in the shadows but he couldn't determine her expression and that worried him. He hadn't had time to practice what he was going to say, he was still vulnerable and he didn't want to be having this conversation now; but if she wanted it now then he had no choice. He deserved to give her this much.

"Want me to make some tea?" he asked quietly and she nodded, settling herself on one of the barstools watching him.

He boiled the kettle, sorting out the cups and tea bags, praying that she'd throw him some sort of clue to what she was thinking. The kettle boiled and he decanted it, adding the milk and sugars exactly how he knew she liked it. He handed it silently to her, catching his breath as their fingers brushed.

She took the hot drink, wrapping her hands around the mug and blowing on it gently before raising it to her lips. He realized that she wasn't going to start, so he had to, unfortunately.

He cleared his throat, unable to come up with anything but the obvious, "I'm sorry," he finally said, his tone hushed given the lateness of the hour. "I really am. I didn't mean...well, for any of this."

"I'm sorry too," she raised her eyes, meeting his briefly before focussing on the counter again, needing to get to the point, "you're in love with me?"

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to find the power to lie to her, "I-"

"The truth, Chandler," she insisted softly, "please, I can't deal with anything other than the truth right now."

He sighed and nodded gravely. He just prayed beyond hope that their friendship could survive this.

"Yes," he confessed as a mere whisper, "yes, I am."

She let out a heavy pained sigh and he winced, it probably wasn't the answer she'd hoped for, but she'd wanted the truth and that's all he could give her now.

"Since when?"

"I, uh, I dunno," he muttered, not really comfortable talking about this with her. "A while, I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked one of the main questions that were plaguing her, "Why now?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly into his tea.

She shook her head, "I'm not after an apology, I just want to be able to understand. Get my head around all this," a hand left her warm cup to gesture between them.

"By the time I figured out it was more than just a crush, you were pretty serious with Pete," he admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat as his fingers played with his cup, his eyes fixed on anything but her, "I realized it was too late and I didn't want to ruin what you guys had. Besides, you were happy and Pete was a nice guy," he shrugged awkwardly, "I had no right to tell you."

Monica slowly digested this new information. So he had been willing to sacrifice his happiness, "this wedding stuff must have really been hurting you," she mused softly.

He nodded gently, "it's hardly been a picnic," he sighed. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt because of it."

"I didn't mean to hurt you either," she admitted, "all the wedding talk and planning, it's all I've talked about for months. I never realized...it must have been killing you."

Her hand reached out and settled on his bare arm, both looked down at it, surprised.

"I'll get over it," he promised quietly, "I'm just so sorry I told you this today. You were coping with enough and-"

"What do you mean you'll get over it?" she interrupted him, her eyes met his again through the darkness.

He studied her worried face, "I mean I don't want our friendship to be messed up because of this." He sighed, "I'll get over it and I'll be normal again. I need you in my life whether it's a friendship or something else, more than you know. I don't want you to hate me or be weird around me, I couldn't live with that."

"I could never hate you," she said quietly, "you mean a lot to me too, you know."

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards at that, "I just hate that I poured this on you today-"

"It's ok," she said, her hand stroking his arm gently, "I, uh, I think I understand."

"You do?" he asked, surprised, and his blue eyes shot up to meet hers. Both filled with pain and guilt.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I get you weren't trying to screw with me, that it's something that just came out because you'd been trying to suppress it so long."

"Yes!" he said, excited and surprised that she really did understand. "I wasn't going to tell you! It just happened, and I'm so so sorry you got hurt by it."

"You're hurting too," she reminded him kindly.

Her mind had enough answers for now, had his motives and understood them. That was enough for tonight.

"I better go," she murmured, finishing her tea and standing up.

He nodded, still fearful he'd lost her. He tried to stop his mind from thinking about what he would do if she wasn't in his life anymore, but he couldn't. She could see that in his eyes and stepped up to him, into his personal space.

"We're ok, Chandler," she promised softly, staring into his eyes, "we're gonna be just fine, okay?"

The fear in his eyes diminished somewhat and he nodded gratefully, needing to cling onto the hope that their friendship still had its foundations intact. That they could get through this together.

"Ok," he whispered, desperate to believe her.

"Come here," she whispered, pulling on him for a hug.

He sighed gratefully, wrapping his arms around her, closing his eyes and borrowing his face in her neck, her hair. They clung to each other for a long while, basking in the comfort that only each other could provide.

Eventually, Monica pulled away, leaving her hands resting on his warm chest for a moment before she looked up at him again and caught her breath. Memories of their embrace earlier that suddenly on her mind. She swallowed remembering what had happened after that hug, that amazing kiss. How soft his lips had been and what a good kisser he was. Alarm bells were starting to go off in her head at the same time butterflies started in her stomach, but she didn't care. She felt it was the right thing to do. Listening to her instinct, she stood on her tiptoes, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his.

It was a tender, reassuring kiss. Lips caressed lips gently at first, both scared as to what they were doing. Chandler tried to let her set the pace, telling himself she was confused and that he shouldn't take advantage. She paused, her lips open against his as she took in some deep breaths before pressing against him harder, as if drawn to him.

The kiss deepened and he felt her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers threading through his head and scraping his scalp lightly. He groaned, shivers running through him as his arms slipped around her petite waist, pulling her up against him as he stumbled backwards, his hip hitting the kitchen counter. She pressed her body closer to his as their tongues explored and they couldn't get enough of each other. Monica felt her knees weakening, glad that Chandler was holding her up. Her lungs were burning desperate for air and reluctantly she pulled away.

She was breathing heavily as Chandler continued to hold her tightly against him, eventually resting his forehead against hers as he too tried to calm his breathing.

"Chan-"

"Shhh," he silenced her, pulling away just enough to rest a finger against her lips as his eyes intently studied hers, "shh."

He wasn't interested in explanations or apologies tonight. He didn't want anything to spoil what they had just shared. After all the pain and heartache he'd suffered through, he just wanted to savor it, just for tonight. He wanted one night free from nightmares.

They could talk and hash it out tomorrow, just not tonight.

She understood, nodding and resting her head against him as they hugged briefly. Eventually they broke apart. She untangled from him, meeting his eyes for a moment before offering him a small smile.

"Goodnight Chandler," she said quietly, as she approached the door.

"Night, Mon," he swallowed as he watched her leave.

Letting out a breath he ran a hand across his face. What a night.