Encore
An Alternate Universe Mondler Fan fiction
AN: Okay, once again, I'm so sorry. I hate writer's block, and between being incredibly busy and having writer's block consistently for months on end, I have not been updating, quite frankly, at all. On a good day my block allows me to get down a few paragraphs, and those days are incredibly rare and sporadic. Anyways, I apologize for the delay, though I can't promise an improvement, here's Chapter 10 of Encore. I hope you enjoy it and please, please, please review, as I have noticed I have been getting increasingly less reviews each chapter, and if nothing else, they help motivate me to at least try to write. The reason I pushed myself to finish this chapter was because I just finished reading through my old reviews for the story. This has been sitting in my dock partially started for quite sometime. Anyway, enjoy and review.
Chapter 10:
After their talk, things between Monica and Chandler improved exponentially. Of course, there was always a slight undercurrent of emotion. Whether that emotion was awkwardness or pent up longing, neither cared to address.
The six friends had started to slip back into their easy companionship, feeling at ease with Monica and Chandler finally. Of course, the occasional ill thought out comment naturally brought the air of awkwardness back to the surface, but unlike before, it did not last long.
Chandler had fallen back into his old routine of crossing the hall every morning so as to eat the homemade breakfast Monica always prepared with the rest of the gang. He cherished these small, once mundane moments for they presented a lull in the constant bombardment that accompanies fame.
It was on one such morning months later that Chandler crossed the hall after showering and changing that a bomb was dropped on him.
There he was, minding his own business as he took to the omelet before him as though he had been starved when the conversation took the unexpected detour to the subject of dating.
"So Mon, tell us about the guy." Rachel pressed, her gossip radar having locked on the little tidbit of information.
Chandler's focus immediately left the meal in front of him as he tried to listen inconspicuously.
"Oh, it's nothing really; just a cute guy who came back to the kitchen a few days ago to compliment the chef. He was attractive and charming so I figured, why not?" Monica said nonchalantly.
"What a story to tell your kids!" Rachel squealed excitedly.
Those words came down like a sledgehammer on Chandler's heart and he turned his full attention back to his meal, attacking the omelet with vicious stabs of his fork.
Unfortunately his rapid motions led to him biting down hard directly on the fork sending shockwaves of pain through his gums.
"SHIT!" he swore abruptly, unintentionally interrupting Monica's description of her upcoming date.
Immediately the attention of his five friends was his. Still in slight pain and very flustered he attempted to explain his sudden outburst.
"I uh, just- you know, bit my fork and uh- it hurt." He stammered, flushing red under their stares. When their attention did not leave after his explanation he quickly excused himself. "Uh, I've got some stuff, so I'm just gonna, I've got to run."
After bringing his dish to the sink he fled the apartment in favor for his, launching towards his guitar as though it were a lifeline.
He strummed carelessly with no real melody in mind as he talked to himself.
"A date? She's got a date?" a few more strums, "I know I said I wasn't ready to trust her fully again, but she seemed willing to wait…or is my friendship enough now? Was all that she said a lie?"
Hours passed and he didn't leave his room, his mind fixated on Monica's date for the evening.
Finally daring to leave his room he made his way to the peephole of his apartment door, briefly remembering that Joey too was on a date.
He continued to torture himself, staring out into the hallway waiting for the man to come pick Monica up.
After standing by the door, staring out of the peephole for some time, Chandler's mind began to wander. Suddenly he recalled a time a few years ago when he had scoffed at Ross for doing exactly what he was doing now. His attempt to pry Ross from the door had resulted in him having his feet against the top of the doorframe.
Rolling his eyes Chandler continued to travel down memory lane, realizing he had become more and more like Ross. Incredibly disturbed by himself Chandler was only distracted by the arrival of a man, about six foot two with short dirty blonde knocking one the door of Apartment 20.
A thousand cruel, jealous, petty thoughts assaulted Chandler's mind instantly, and he pressed even closer to the door, unable to pull himself away from his emotional torture.
Those thoughts were briefly interrupted when Monica opened the door and stepped out, looking stunning in a loose ankle length red dress, her ebony hair curled inwards at the tips so that it framed her petite face beautifully. She wore matching red lipstick and wore a subtle layer of black eye shadow, accenting her glorious crystal blue eyes.
The thoughts returned tenfold however, when the mystery man wrapped his arm around Monica's slim waist, drawing her close to him as they walked away down the staircase.
The moment they disappeared from sight Chandler crumpled dejectedly to the floor, miserable as he felt the hot sting of tears pricking the bottoms of his eyes. He considered going to his guitar, but for the first time it didn't seem to offer the right kind of solace. All he wanted now was to forget.
He pulled himself to the fridge, his hand clasping onto the handle like it was a lifeline and pulled the door open. He found himself thankful the Joey hadn't changed so much that he stopped buying beer. Grabbing a six-pack he stumbled miserably over to the barcalounger, uncapped the first beer, and started drowning his sorrows in alcohol.
The next morning bright sunlight shone into Chandler's azure eyes, waking him and instantly triggering a skull-shattering headache. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to alleviate the pain but found his efforts useless. Opening his eyes once more he surveyed the damage.
He found himself surrounded by beer bottles littering the floor, the amber glass bottles mocking his stupidity. When do I never regret drinking myself into a hangover? Chandler scoffed at himself, being rewarded with another twinge of pain.
Pulling himself to his feet he stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and got in after shedding his clothes. He prayed for relief from the physical pain of his hangover and the emotional pain of Monica's date last night.
After brushing his teeth, Chandler made his way to his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He threw on a blue t-shirt and sweats before miserably crossing the hall and pushing the door open to Apartment 20.
Inside he was greeted by all five of his friends; even Joey who apparently hadn't bothered to return to the apartment after his date last night.
They didn't immediately take in his state, just called out cheery greetings to him. The general morning time clamor caused the pounding in his skull to worsen.
"Ughhhhh. Stop making noise." Chandler moaned miserably.
The gang then looked back at him, recognizing his typical hangover appearance. None wanted to comment on what they believed was the cause of their friend's alcohol filled night, except for Monica who did not connect the dots, and just muttered their apologies.
Monica however, was completely oblivious to the correlation in time frame of Chandler's drinking binge and her date. Perhaps in another circumstance she would have, but nothing could bring down her mood after her date last night. Chris had been charming, sweet, funny, and a perfect gentleman. He was incredibly attractive and had cleaned up very well. All of this distracted her from her friend and ex-lover's agony.
The morning continued on as usual. After breakfast was over the gang made their way into the living room and Chandler curled up miserably in the chair, attempting to be social so as not to be rude, though not at all in the mood to do so.
When the topic inevitably turned to the girls gossiping about Monica's date, he closed his eyes and tuned out their conversation, trying to free himself from more pain. He knew enough from Monica's mood this morning; the date had gone well. Just another thing to add to the list of his agony.