CHANDLER

Chandler picked up the meds from his pharmacy after he saw the doctor and took them religiously. They were fat, blue and white capsules that he choked down once in the morning and once at night. It made no difference. Sometimes he would know it was coming. He would feel ill, like he was going to throw up and pass out, and then wake up days later with no recollection of what happened. Other times, there were no forewarnings of the oncoming black out. He would simply be in his room, and the next minute, outside or at work. Half the time, he found himself at James's.

James was angrier lately. Chandler remembered the timorous man he first met on the street and thought he was unrecognizable to the person he was seeing now.

Chandler was only briefly awake this time. He came into reality on his walk to the office, spent the day forcing himself to work, and was on the way home when he blacked out again. Hot sickness forced him to his hands and knees and made him gag. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was in the coffee shop.

He blinked into reality, surveying the group. Everyone was there, but another person made his stomach sink. Beside him sat James. He was cuddled into Chandler. Chandler stiffened and stared with wide eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Chandler said under his breath.

"You invited me," James whispered back.

"I did not," Chandler said sharply.

The others stopped talking, noticing that Chandler and James were bickering.

"What's up?" Ross asked.

"What day is it?" Chandler didn't care anymore if they knew he was blacking out. It was old news. He was sick of hiding it.

The group looked uncomfortable. "Wednesday," Ross was the first one to answer.

"Christ," Chandler pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm heading home," he didn't wait for the others to reply before walking to the door. James and Joey both stood, but Joey stopped when he saw James shoot him a dirty look.

Chandler breezed outside and leaned against the building. James stood beside him. "What's wrong?" he asked innocently.

"How did this happen?"

"You called me and asked me to come over."

"I don't understand."

James glowered and stepped on Chandler's foot, shifting so he put all his weight on it. Chandler hissed and pushed him away. "Stop it. So everyone knows now?"

"You called me your boyfriend."

So they were dating now. Undeniably. He couldn't pretend it was some sort of strange inbetween of friends and fuck buddies anymore. "Are we still going back to your place?"

"I want to be alone," actually, he wanted to be with Joey, but he didn't see that as an option right now.

"I just got here. I can't afford to take cabs all over the place like you do, and I'm not ready to get on the subway again. I'm going with you."

"Fine."

They walked back to the apartment together. Every once in a while, James would say something and Chandler would ignore it. When they arrived, Chandler retreated to his room and James followed. He took a sharp step sideways to avoid James touching him and his hip knocked into the dresser. "Ow," he grabbed his side. It hurt more than a light tap should. He lifted his shirt to reveal a dark bruise. "Did you do this?"

"We were playing," James winked.

"Don't do it again."

"Chandler," James whined.

Chandler shook his head and sat on the bed. He couldn't comprehend how he got himself into this situation. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, but he had an ulterior motive.

He headed to the bathroom and purposely locked the door behind him. He stood in front of the mirror and slowly lifted his shirt to reveal the pattern of multicolored bruises beneath. He swallowed. They were everywhere. It wasn't that he was scared. He'd been beaten up as a kid and while it terrified him, it wasn't the same with James. James could hurt him all he wanted, but Chandler knew he had the power to end it. What scared him was his friends finding out. He couldn't hide his illness, but this he could keep buried beneath layers of fabric and cotton.

He showered, delicately washing the tender spots of blue and purple, and exited the bathroom. Joey was sitting in the kitchen, sucking on a beer. "Hey," Chandler said tentatively as he walked up to his friend. He fell into the seat beside him.

"Hey," Joey repeated in a monotone.

"This is probably weird to say, but I miss you."

"It's not weird. We barely see each other anymore."

"Oh," had he been pushing Joey away?

"I miss you too."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about James."

"It's okay. I get it."

Chandler leaned in so that even if James were straining, leaning against the bedroom door to eavesdrop on their conversation, he wouldn't catch on to the words. "Can I talk to you about it later?"

Joey furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded.

"Thanks," Chandler mouthed.

"Chandler!" Chandler's bedroom door flew open. They both turned to look at James. "Can you come here for a minute?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna head over to Mon's," Joey told him.

"'Kay. I'll be there soon."

Chandler watched Joey leave, thinking about how dead he seemed compared to his usual outgoing demeanor, before walking over to James.

"What the fuck?" James shouted.

"Woah, quiet," Chandler motioned with his hands to speak softer.

"You're going to flirt with him when I'm right here?"

"I'm not!" he wasn't, but it felt like he was lying anyway.

James shoved him and he fell backwards, landing in one of the recliners. "There's something wrong with you," he growled. Chandler's heart fell. James moved closer and leaned over him. "You're weak," Chandler didn't know how he meant it. Emotionally, he was broken. He felt like he didn't have anything left in him. Half of his personality was gone. Physically, he was permanently on the verge of fainting. He was fatigued and malnourished, subsisting on coffee alone. He wrapped his hand around Chandler's right forearm, tight enough to bruise and used the other hand to undo his belt. Chandler's hazy mind sprung back to cognizance.

"Stop! Not here."

"Come to the room then."

"I don't want to right now."

"Then come back to talk."

If the two options were stay in the living room and have sex where the others could walk in at any moment, or talk to James in the privacy of his own bedroom, he would opt for the latter. "Okay," he stood and hurried back to the room. James locked the door behind them and it left Chandler with a sinking feeling. He waited for James to start berating him, but instead, he grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in. He grinded on his dick and Chandler's body responded to the stimulation.

"Quit it," Chandler said, trying to pull away.

"Get on the bed."

"Not right now."

"Do it."

Chandler considered the proposition. He wasn't prepared to deal with a pissed off James at the moment, so he acquiesced. He laid down for James to straddle him.

"You're a little bitch," James purred.

"What…?" Chandler looked up with confusion. James might curse at him once in a while, but never like this.

"I'm going to punish you," he started working with his hands with little preparation for Chandler to adjust. He gasped, throwing his head back.

"Stop talking like that," he protested.

"I'm going to use you like you used me," James said, making Chandler feel strangely guilty.

James was done waiting. "Wait," Chandler said. James entered him. It happened so fast, Chandler barely registered his fist before James landed a punch on his face. "Fuck!" he grabbed his face and felt the skin splitting open, "Stop! Get off!"

James wrapped both his hands around Chandler's throat and pressed. Chandler tried to shove James off, but he wasn't strong enough and the harder that James squeezed, the lighter his head became. He thought he wasn't scared of James, had convinced himself as much, but right here, in this moment, he was terrified. His body burned, his face was bleeding, and he wasn't sure if James would kill him or not.

James loosened his grip and Chandler lay limply. His head was light and he didn't have the fight in him or the willingness to risk James cutting off his air supply again.

He closed his eyes. He wanted to pretend it was Joey, but there were still hands around his throat and in no world could he imagine Joey hurting him like this.

When it was done, James rolled over. Chandler sat up and ran a hand down his face. "Lay with me," James cooed.

"I'm going to get some cigarettes."

"You're smoking again?"

"I'm dying anyways."

"Okay," James yawned and nuzzled further into the pillow.

One of the few things Chandler could appreciate about James was his heavy sleeping, so he seized his opportunity.

He made a pit stop in the bathroom to assess the damage to his face. His lip split open and was beginning to puff up.
An excuse. He needed an excuse. He hit his face on something. The towel bar behind him caught his eye. He whipped around and frantically grabbed it, pulling it down hard. With a few tugs, it ripped off the wall and clattered to the ground. He tapped the blood dripping down his chin and rubbed it on the corner of the rod. It was probably more attention to detail than required, but being thorough never hurt.

He washed his face and dabbed the blood until it began to coagulate. He couldn't wait to get out of that bathroom, out of his own apartment, anywhere that was more than a couple walls between him and James.

He headed to Monica's place and poked his head through the door. "Joey, I'm going to the corner store. Wanna come?" to anyone else, it wouldn't be an enticing offer, but Joey lit up and jumped off the couch.

They were quiet as they walked down the stairs, like James might be able to hear them from Chandler's room.

When they were finally outside, in the full light of the day, Joey glanced at Chandler and looked shocked. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh," he pretended as though it slipped his mind, "I was falling and grabbed the towel hanger thing. Accidentally whacked myself in the face. I'll fix it."

"Don't worry about it. Does it hurt?"

Joey, endlessly selfless, tirelessly trustworthy. Chandler was the complete opposite: self-involved and jaded. Joey didn't deserve to be lied to, but he simply couldn't stop. "Nah."

Joey deliberated a moment longer on whether or not it was a significant issue, then he lightened. "Something up?" he asked as they strolled.

Chandler swallowed. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"I never wanted you guys to meet James."

"Why?"

"We're not happy together. Like, at all."

Joey knitted his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"It's complicated. He's kind of a dick. He gets pissed off about a lot of stuff, so I sort of go along with whatever. I'd rather deal with that than fight," Chandler sighed, "I mean, you met him. He's weird. I know that."

"Why do you stay with him?"

Chandler stared at the ground, watching the splotches of black gum on the sidewalk as they ambled along. "It's easier that way. I mean, you must have had relationships like that, right?"

Joey was quiet while he thought. "Usually I'd leave if it stopped being fun."

That was true to Joey's character, but he was also charming and charismatic and had no issues finding another woman, unlike Chandler who would be stuck alone without James. "You don't have to worry though."

"Worry about what?" Joey asked.

Chandler shrugged. They reached the gas station. He pushed through the glass door and an electric bell chimed above. Joey followed him to the refrigerated area where he selected a soda. "You want something?"

"Sure," Joey turned and walked down one of the aisles, picking out a pack of gummy candies. Chandler couldn't help but smile at the childish selection.

They headed to the counter together. "And a pack of Marlboro reds. Shorts."

"You're smoking?" Joey gaped like Chandler had asked for an eight-ball of coke. Chandler stifled a laugh at the over-the-top reaction.

"No, just this one pack."

"That's what you always say!"

"If I have to deal with James for an entire day without a drop of nicotine, I'll die before I could ever get lung cancer."

Joey closed his mouth and watched Chandler with apprehension as he settled up.
Chandler lit his cigarette as soon as they left the bodega. "James really stresses you out," Joey commented.

"What do you think of him?"

"He's…" Joey seemed at a loss for words.

"What? Tell me. I haven't been around for a week and a half."

"He's really into you. I mean, he seems kind of possessive sometimes."

Chandler nodded and took a drag. "It's kind of exhausting. He was pissed that I didn't want to introduce you guys."
"Why didn't you?"

Chandler carefully articulated his answer. "I didn't want you guys to see what I'm like around him. I mean, not the gay stuff, not that I'm totally okay with that, but our dynamic. I wish I had some control over it instead of being totally blacked-out. I guess I act the same, I just don't remember it."

"I think you're a little different."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I never know for sure, but sometimes I think I can tell. You seem more tired. Kinda dead."

"Huh. Don't I seem like that all the time now?" he laughed, like it could make the statement less blunt, but it wasn't remotely a joke.

"No. Not right now. You seem sad, though."

Chandler looked away. "Maybe I should lighten up a bit."

"It's okay. I get it. Things are hard right now."

"Yeah. You know, I used to be sure I'd die from this stupid disease, but now it seems like it's never going to kill me and I'll just be stuck like this forever. I don't feel like that's how I'm gonna go anymore," it was James that would be the death of him.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

Chandler was unable to look at Joey. He didn't know what he'd do without him either. Most days, it seemed like he was the only good thing he had going in his life. "I'll try to stick around, okay? But we both know these pills aren't working."

"It takes time."

"Could be," he didn't have the heart to discourage Joey's hope, but no part of him believed that there would be a sharp turn-around with his health.

They reached the apartment building and Chandler flicked his cigarette.

JOEY

His talk with Chandler was enlightening, to say the least. Up to this point, he was under the impression that Chandler was living some sort of glamorous, secret life that he kept under wraps out of mystery, but things were adding up in a new way now. James was someone he was ashamed of. The rest of it, Joey still had yet to put together, but the picture was finally coming into frame.

In the short period that Joey knew him, he didn't care for James. He had an obnoxious sense of humor, took offense at the smallest things, and was intensely jealous.

"Do you think James will be there?" Rachel groaned.

"Isn't he always?" Ross replied.

They were planning a dinner for Phoebe, one Chandler had yet to hear about. At some point they would have to include James in the surprise, but as of right now, they were waiting until the last possible minute. The entire group had taken a dislike for James, but they were careful not to complain around Chandler.

Chandler told them that he slept over often so that he wouldn't go sleepwalking. Joey resented it. He could cuddle Chandler and watch that he didn't wander so he saw no need for James.

Chandler talked less when James was around. Joey wasn't sure what it meant, but it irritated the entire gang and he was glad to be able to share his frustration with them.

"I'm sick of him," Monica said. They were all in her apartment, except for Chandler, who was at James's place. None of them ever visited or desired to. "He's always commenting on my food. Like, make it yourself if you're such a critic."

"And he's super weird about Chandler," Phoebe said. Joey was relieved he didn't have to be the one to say it. "He always answers questions for him. I swear he never talks anymore."

"How long do you think they'll stay together?" Rachel asked.

"Chandler's never been with anyone this long," Monica said.

"Does he say anything about breaking up to you?" Phoebe turned her attention to Joey.

Joey shrugged. He didn't want to betray Chandler's trust, but this was the closest he got to catharsis involving his best friend's love-life. "He doesn't seem very happy. Don't tell him I said that. He doesn't talk about breaking up though."

"What is he doing with him?" Phoebe griped.

"Well, we can't not invite him to dinner," Rachel pointed out.

"Ugh," Monica groaned, "We should break them up."

Joey's interest was piqued. "How?"

"Throw him off a bridge," Phoebe volunteered, "I'll do it."

"I'll lure him to the Brooklyn Bridge. Tell him that Chandler's there and he looked at another guy, then Phoebe, you come in and bodyslam him," Monica said.

"Where did he meet this guy anyways?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know. He looks familiar though," Joey had thought so since he met James. It was almost uncanny.

"Maybe we should set him up with someone else," Monica said.

Joey darkened. It was plenty for him that Chandler was with James, but to be with a guy he actually liked was worse. He knew it was selfish to want Chandler to stay in this relationship over a healthy one, but this was bound to fizzle out soon.

"Do you know anyone Phoebe?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, I don't know," she sat back in her seat, abruptly withdrawing.

"What do you mean you don't know? I thought you wanted to help?" Rachel frowned.

"He's already with someone. It's not right to use someone else to break them up."

"But what if it was someone he really liked? Then you'd be helping," Monica pressed.

"I'll think about it."

Joey watched her. He told her to lay off and she listened, but despite not discussing it further, she was still on his side. She wasn't about to set Chandler up with Mr. Right when Joey was deeply in love.

"I have to go back home," Phoebe said, standing up, "Joey, will you walk me to the car?"

He nodded and hurried to open the door for her. When they were out of earshot, she gave him a pointed look. "What?" he asked, unable to decipher the meaning behind it.

"What aren't you telling us?"

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Joey. He obviously said something about James to you."

Joey bit his bottom lip. "I can't tell you."

"Why? Did he make you promise?"

Actually, he had not. It was heavily implied, but not explicitly stated. "Alright, but you can't tell him I said anything."

"Tell me!"

"It's nothing, really. He told me that he doesn't really like James that much."

Phoebe punched him on the arm.

"Hey!" Joey protested.

"That's not 'nothing'! What else?"

"He said that James is controlling."

"Oh," Phoebe stopped smiling.

"What?"

"That could be really bad, Joey. Maybe Chandler thinks he can't leave him."

"What should we do?" Joey was ashamed. He should have realized James was a larger issue than Chandler put on.

"You should talk to him."

Joey rubbed the back of his neck. "Phoebe, I'm sorry I told you not to talk to me about it anymore. It's been kinda lonely," it was embarrassingly honest, but this was Phoebe and he trusted her.

"It's okay. I understand. I shouldn't have pushed so hard."

"I really like him," Joey said softly, "I don't know what to do."

"I know you're scared, but I think you should tell him how you feel."

Joey was frightened before at the idea Chandler would reject him or that things would be awkward, but life seemed too fleeting now for that concern. Chandler was sick and he was unhappy, and Joey couldn't wait any longer.

"He'll always be your friend," Phoebe reminded him.

He tried once before and it was a failure, but nothing concrete was said. There was a chance Chandler hadn't understood what he was trying to say. If there was any possibility at all, he needed to take it. "Okay."

"Maybe before the dinner?"

"I'll try."

###

It was almost midnight when Chandler walked through the door. Joey was staring at the TV screen, but it may as well have been static. He couldn't focus on anything but his impending confession. "Hey!" he jumped up to greet Chandler, rubbing his hands together.

Chandler stumbled forward, nearly careening into Joey. "Woah!" he caught Chandler in his arms. Joey didn't expect him to be so light. "Are you okay?" he reeked of liquor.

Chandler shook his head. "Gonna throw up," he said, and immediately hacked, puking all over the front of Joey's shirt and pants. Joey grimaced, but he didn't back away. Chandler gripped the front of his shirt for dear life.

"Let's go to the bathroom," Joey said and wrapped his arm around Chandler's back to support him. Once there, Chandler collapsed on the floor beside the toilet, the ungainly descent slowed by Joey trying to keep him from slamming against the tiles.

Chandler heaved up dark brown vomit. Joey tried not to watch or it would make him queasy too. He held a hand to Chandler's forehead and found that it was warm, but not feverishly hot. "What happened?" he asked when Chandler stopped coughing.

"I drank too much."

"Why were you drinking?"

"Hnng," Chandler's head lolled onto his shoulder. He leaned away from the toilet and fell into Joey's arms.

"You should shower," there were few cures for the level of drunk Chandler had reached, but a shower always helped Joey when he was like this.

"Okay."

Joey rubbed his back, finding it difficult to pull away from the magnetic force that was Chandler, then forced himself to stand. Joey could use a shower too, but first he'd take care of Chandler and put him to bed. Joey took off his slimy shirt and tossed it in the corner, then stooped beside Chandler. He paused when he noticed there were tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes.

"Why are you crying?"

"I want … to stop," he mumbled a word that Joey couldn't make out.

"You want what to stop?" Chandler shook his head. Now wasn't the time to be forcing information out of him anyway. "Hold up your arms," Joey instructed. Chandler obediently put his arms in the air and Joey wiggled his shirt off. He moved to discard it, but his eyes landed on something else, something horrifying. All across his chest, stomach, and sides, Chandler was covered in bruises. They ranged from yellow to blue to almost black. Some were younger and brightly colored, while others had faded with time. He was rail thin so that Joey could count all of his ribs. He coughed and aimed himself over the toilet, heaving another round of vomit.

"What is this?" Joey asked, already aware, but unable to fully fathom what he was seeing.

Chandler stared back at him, no comprehension of what Joey was referring to. Slowly, he followed Joey's gaze. "Oh, shit," he held his hands over his chest like it could possibly cover the array of colors there.

"Chandler," Joey whispered, "Did James do this to you?"

Chandler squeezed his eyes shut and started to sway. Joey could practically feel his brain swimming and predicted his impending fall. Chandler leaned forward and allowed himself to drop into Joey's lap.

After all the things he said about James, how he told Joey it was an unhealthy relationship and that they weren't any good together, he should have seen this coming. For weeks this went on without Chandler once confiding in him. He desperately wanted this to be a dream or a premonition, something he could protect Chandler from. "Chandler, please wake up," Joey's heart thudded in his chest. Chandler groaned.

He picked him up, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises, and dragged him into the tub, soaking himself in the process. Chandler shook his head and turned away from the stream.

Joey brushed away the hair that fell into his eyes and fought back a scream. "Hey."

Chandler peered at Joey. He didn't seem to remember revealing the bruises. Joey would clean him up and put him to sleep, but it was not a topic that would be forgotten in the morning.

He took a washcloth and cleaned away the vomit on Chandler's chin and neck, noticing the discoloration there. James had choked him. Joey's world was shattering and he couldn't hold it together for much longer.

When he finished, he turned off the faucet and hauled him out of the tub with very little assistance from Chandler. "I'll get your pajamas. Hold on," Joey trotted into Chandler's room and froze.

Chandler made it clear he didn't want Joey in here so the view came as a shock. The mirror that hung on his wall was broken with shards of glass on the dresser beneath, the drawer of his bedside table was ripped open and pulled off the tracks, and the entire floor was covered in dirty clothes and trash. Joey swallowed hard and searched through the dresser drawer for a rare clean pair of sweatpants and T-shirt.

He returned to the bathroom and dressed Chandler.

"Time to sleep," Joey announced when he finished, and waved for him to stand. Chandler wobbled to his feet, nearly toppling over and grasping onto Joey's arm. Joey began to lead them to Chandler's bedroom, but thought of the disarray there and decided that his own messy room was a better choice.

Chandler gladly collapsed in the bed as soon as he saw it. Joey changed out of his jeans into a fresh pair of pajamas not covered in vomit. He laid beside Chandler. Joey thought he had already fallen asleep when Chandler rolled onto him and rested his face on his chest.

"Chan…"

"Please don't leave," Chandler mumbled, "I need you."

The words were born from his state of drunkenness, but Joey sensed the honesty behind the inebriation.