Does television count as a hobby? It's not like you're actually doing something when you watch TV, you're just looking at a screen. There's no creation and there's rarely ever any learning involved– it was all consumption. It's like saying eating counts as a hobby– well, to his roommate, it probably does. So by that logic, watching TV is a hobby, and Chandler was allowed to feel productive as he did nothing but channel-flip.

After starting his morning with a visit to Central Park and pretending everything was fine, Chandler decided to unwind back at his apartment. Admittedly, he could have done a better job while at the coffeehouse. He figured that by not acknowledging Monica at all, he'd have no chance to slip up and say something stupid like he always does.

"Hello Monica! Wow, you sure look different when you're not naked!"

He absolutely couldn't trust his unfiltered morning-brain to control his speech, so it was much easier to just act as if she wasn't there– even if it made him the biggest jerk in the whole entire world.

"Dude? Are you even listening?"

Swiftly turning in his Barcalounger, Chandler realises that Joey had been trying to talk to him for minutes now, being ignored as Chandler continuously fried his dopamine receptors trying to prevent a single thought from forming in his brain.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was just askin' if you wanted to do something today." Joey repeated his question, "Y'know, we could go watch a movie, or have lunch with Rach and Moni-"

"No! No…no." Chandler attempted to tone down his initial frantic response. "I'm good– really interested in…"

He looked to the television screen to figure out what channel he had landed on after minutes and minutes of surfing.

"...Spanish soap operas."

Joey didn't buy his excuse. "Hey man, what's with you today?" He sat down in the Barcalounger next to Chandler's.

"Why? What did you hear?"

Chandler has no idea what the group was talking about when he joined them at the coffeehouse earlier that morning, and judging by their uncertain expressions when he asked, he could only assume they were talking about him– and it couldn't have been good. Was it possible that Monica had told them about his escape from their hookup and they were all drafting a plan to kick him out of the friend group?

"Nothing- what?" Joey asked, clearly confused. Chandler probably shouldn't have said anything at all. "I mean, you've been all…spaced out. I didn't want to say anythin' in front of everyone before, but you were being all weird when you met with us. Just wanna make sure you're alright."

So yeah, Chandler could have done a better job at hiding his discomfort in front of his friends, because even Joey noticed something was off.

"It's nothing, Joe. I'm fine."

Joey nodded, but he still looked unsure. Something was very clearly tugging at Chandler's mind, and Joey breaks the one rule Chandler set about his recent breakup.

"So…is this about Carrie?" Asked Joey, but his friend's expression was enough to answer his question. Chandler looked at him as if he had no idea who Carrie was.

Finally, it clicked in his head. "Y'know? I'd like to think I'm actually helping these women find their true love, just by showing them how awful I am."

"Come on man, don't say that!" Joey slapped his arm. "You're a great guy, and- y'know what? I never really liked that Carrie girl all that much!"

Chandler found his friend's attempt at cheering him up to be endearing but ultimately ineffective– altogether very amusing. "You couldn't have said anything before she slept with another guy?"

That was enough to throw Joey off-guard. "Look, Chandler, you just gotta move on! Come on, why don't we go do somethin' to take your mind off things, huh? Strip joooint?" A wide grin grew on Joey's face at the suggestion, his voice ascending into the pitch that Chandler recognized as "Joey's Happy Voice".

He was grateful for Joey and his determination to lift Chandler's spirits, but none of it worked. Chandler could fill his days with endless strippers but it wouldn't do anything about the underlying problem– that something about Chandler made him fundamentally unlovable, and drove every girl away from him once they got a taste of what he's really like.

So why would Monica, who's known him for almost 10 years, sleep with him? Would he have found out had he stayed in bed a little while longer?

If Monica were here right now, she'd probably tell Chandler that there was a beautiful girl waiting for him; that he had his whole life ahead of him and didn't need to worry so much about finding his one true love. She'd let him have the good ice cream, and listen to all of his woes, and tell him that no matter what, everything would be fine. Monica was always great at making people feel better– it was in her nature. While the fantasy was fun, Chandler knows that realistically, if Monica were here, they'd sit in an awkward silence until the moon rose and it was time for bed. He might have ruined one of the only good relationships he had in his life.

But that was crazy talk, and even Chandler can recognize that. One night of sex doesn't erase years of friendship, even if it was some of the greatest sex he'd ever had– which didn't say much since he didn't have amazing sex often, but still a notable feat.

Tired from the unsatisfying channel-surfing, Chandler got up to stretch; despite being so young, he had the joints of an elderly man. He turned around to find Joey rummaging in the kitchen, slowly pulling out item-after-item out of the fridge and onto the counter.

"Joe? What the hell are you doing?"

Digging his head out of the cold interior, Joey gave a quick and focused response. "Lookin' for food."

Chandler looked to the sea of perishable items that sat on their countertops. "Right, 'cuz we've been housing inedible items in our refrigerator."

"There's no food! There's ingredients, but there's no food!" Joey complained, which was a fair criticism. All they had were various condiments, a random assortment of lone fruits, dairy products with a peculiar smell, and many other long-expired edibles– but no food. The boys always had a problem when it came to grocery shopping; especially since that was never their first resort in moments like this.

"Come on, let's go see if the girls have anything." Joey suggested. Had it not been for the audible grumble from Chandler's stomach, he would have instantly declined and ran to his room– but the boy was hungry.

"Why bother the girls?" Chandler began to plead, "Why don't we order something? Huh? Your choice!"

"Well, you know I'd never say no to that." Joey laughed, his smile soon replaced with an embarrassed pout. "but bein' honest, I'm kinda broke this week."

When has that ever stopped you?

Swatting his thoughts away, Chandler tried to convince Joey not to leave. "It's my treat. Don't worry about it. Just order us something, anything!"

"But I'm starving! I can't wait for the delivery!"

"You just had a muffin at the coffeehouse! You had my muffin!"

"Whatever, man! You get whatever you want! I'm buggin' Monica." Joey concluded. He left for the apartment across the hall, with Chandler chasing after him, begging him to reconsider with promises of endless food delivery and a 'feast for the kings'.

But when Joey is hungry, he becomes an unstoppable force of nature. He entered the girls' apartment and went straight for the kitchen, not bothering with a greeting.

"Um, hello to you too?" Rachel said, filling out the daily crossword at the kitchen table. Her lap was littered with eraser shavings.

"Hey, you guys got anythin' to eat? Something hearty!" Joey requested, an odd question to ask after already exploring their fridge.

Chandler felt uneasy standing in the apartment; the last time he was here, the lights were at a romantic dim and Monica was standing right by the couch, wearing a dress he'd never seen her wear before but wished she pulled out more often. It was right on that couch that she pulled him into a deep kiss, and it was right in that bedroom where she whispered words in his ears that he'd never expect to hear coming out of her mouth. The selfish part of him wonders if Monica set any of this up, because what were the chances he'd walk in on such an atmosphere? But he knows she had a date, and unlike the company he kept around, Monica was a very faithful person.

As he recounts the euphoric memories of the night before, it dawns on him that he isn't attached to Joey's hip, even though the two boys often acted like they were.

Wait a minute, I don't have to be here! I have freedom! I can eat anywhere else!

He reaches for the door, but this time, is not successful in his attempt to leave apartment 20 unnoticed. A familiar voice comes walking out of the bathroom, and he's conflicted between his desire to avoid any sort of confrontation and his longing for the casualness he once had with his friend.

"Joey, what happened to the leftover pasta I gave you? It should be enough for a wee-" Monica froze once she saw Chandler at the doorway, and he knows for sure that there is no way he can wiggle out of the apartment. Not this time.

Rachel looked to Monica, then to Chandler, then back to Monica's reaction, and before she can voice her confusion, Joey claims,

"A week? Mon', that wasn't even lunch."

She sighs, and shoves Joey out of the way.

"I'll make you a sandwich if you're so hungry."

She turns on the stove and cuts up pieces of chicken, letting them sizzle in her pan as she begins to lay out the various ingredients for Joey's all-time favourite meal, to which he notices that she only pulls out enough for one.

"Hey, Chandler's hungry too! We're both starving."

Her efficient movement comes to a halt at the mention of his name, which causes Chandler's heart to race. With her back turned to him, it's hard to tell what she's feeling. As awful as these conditions were, Chandler would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy their time together. His frame of reference may have been weak, but he knew this was different compared to every other one-night stand he ever had. It was a safe experience, all of the usual pressure that came with performing well was absent– he didn't worry about impessing Monica. It was much more comforting than arousing; the sex wasn't about carnal desire, it was just about feeling good in a time when they both felt bad, and who better to cheer you up than one of your best friends?

With all that in mind, Chandler hoped Monica held similar feelings. Even if he disappointed her as he seems to with every woman, as long as she saw him as the same ol' Chandler, everything would be fine– but it seems like that's not what was happening right now, because she won't even look at him. Chandler couldn't complain too much, he treated her the exact same way that same morning, but he was beginning to realise just how awful it felt to be ignored. The regret began to fill his body; even if they had a great time, he hated the consequences that came with it.

Monica pulled the bread out of her toaster and began assembling the sandwiches. He watched carefully as she built the first one: pieces of lettuce, lots of lettuce, because who can get enough lettuce? Then slices of tomatoes, but not too many, enough that you can notice they're present but not too much that it's at the forefront of the taste. Chicken, obviously, but very lightly cooked chicken– if there's even a little dark colouring, it tastes burnt. And before she tops it off with the second piece of bread, she drenches it in mayonnaise and mustard, because everyone knows the sandwich serves as a vehicle for the sauce. She places the piece of bread on top and presses down to finish off the delicious sandwich– made exactly how Chandler liked it.

She picked up the plate and handed it to Chandler, forcing a weak smile. He held the plate and made sure their fingers weren't too close to each other.

"Thanks."

"It's nothing, really."

When it came to Monica, most things were nothing. She handled everything she touched effortlessly– even when they slept together, Monica knew exactly what to do to make Chandler feel good. Perhaps it was all the sex talk they engaged in over the years, they knew enough of each other's sexual misadventures to guess what got them going; and Monica was right on the money. She made sure not to pull his hair too hard or engage in too much dirty talk, and she constantly reassured him of the great job he was doing– oddly enough, that was something Chandler never mentioned he needed. She just knew he'd like that.

And it's moments like these where Chandler hates himself and his perverted thoughts– why think of sex with your best friend when she hands you a sandwich? You're disgusting!

Monica put together Joey's sandwich and before she could even pick up the plate, he grabbed the meal at the speed of light and began scarfing down.

"So that's what the first person to discover food must have been like, huh?" Chandler jabbed. Joey was enjoying himself too much to care.

With Joey sitting down at the kitchen table alongside Rachel, Chandler knew it wouldn't be socially appropriate to leave– and with Monica's plate, at that. So he sticks around and eats his sandwich and hopes no one asks him where he was last night, because while it was a specific question to ask, the possibilities were never zero.

Monica sat across from Chandler, and for a moment, things felt a little normal as the four talked about their plans for the week. But the awkward tension was definitely still there, as Monica held her arms close to her chest and stared down at the table, only occasionally speaking up to agree with Rachel or to tell Joey he'd choke if he continued eating that fast. With this being his first good look at Monica, he finally noticed the souvenir he left her with from the night before.

She noticed him staring, and moved her hand slyly to cover the bruise on her neck. However, she wasn't sly enough to avoid Rachel's prying eyes.

"He seriously left a mark on you, wow!" Rachel spoke, a hint of admiration in her voice. She was adamantly against Monica's traitor, but the massive hickey he left behind was indeed impressive.

Chandler figured that by cracking a joke and joining the conversation, he can absolve himself of any possible fingers pointing towards him being the culprit of the vibrant bruise. "Looks like he was trying to mark his territory."

"Yeah, right before he ditched me, right?" Monica grumbled, tracing the patterns of wood with her nail. Instantly, a wave of guilt washed over Chandler. Her lumped shoulders and refusal to meet his eyes yet again, he didn't realise just how badly he'd upset her. It's ironic– Chandler abandoned her the one time she needed nothing more than someone's company. He's the worst friend in the world.

If they were alone, he'd give a thousand apologies, and explain in great detail that he's nothing more than a coward and all fault falls on him, it had nothing to do with Monica or her character– but with an audience watching them, all he can muster out is an encrypted expression of regret. "Sorry. The guy's a jerk."

Not only was Chandler a jerk, he was also sloppy.

"Wait, how'd you know what happened?" Asked Rachel.

"What do you mean?"

"Monica's date left her in the morning– how did you know that?"

The memory of their morning conversation returns; Chandler's acknowledgement of Monica's date went no further than "You must have had a lot of fun". They didn't discuss anything that had happened during, or most importantly, after Monica's night with the guy she had been seeing– and so, Chandler should have no idea what Monica meant. But he did. Because he was there.

"Well- y'know…" he looked to Monica for an out, but all she could return were wide eyes. The familiar expression can be traced to every other time Chandler messes up at something, and Monica looks at him in a mix of disappointment or shock that is quickly replaced with laughter and a comforting "it's okay"- but something tells him he's not going to get that this time.

"She said he ditched her– and I just figured– y'know, didn't want to press too much into that…" He concluded his totally-not-suspicious explanation, which seemed to be enough for Rachel, because she let out a nose-exhale and returned to her crossword. Monica's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"It's not that serious. I'll get over it." She commented.

"It is serious! This guy– whoever he is– sounds like a massive loser." Chandler replied, and returned to eating his sandwich. There it was– his unfiltered morning brain digging him deeper and deeper into a hole. Though, maybe his comment was justified, because Monica returned a seemingly thankful grin.

"Yeah, he kind of is."

And the pressure in his chest alleviates when he's finally joking with Monica again, it being at his own expense made it all the better. While this particular moment felt like much-needed light in the abyss, it was merely a lit match in a dark room. They're going to have to talk about the night that shall not be mentioned– even more ironic, because it's all he can mention when thinking to himself. Just another reason he needs to talk to Monica and get it out of the way. Of course, he'd have to wait until they were alone, which would prove difficult with this heavily codependent friend group.

So Chandler decides to wait it out– what's the rush? Eventually, the perfect moment will present itself and they can talk without any distractions. So he waits, and waits, and waits, and eventually it's been a week without proper conversation between the two. He could handle a day or two without casually talking to Monica, but after a week, he gets antsy. Anytime they were in the same room, she'd manage not to spare him a look. He stares at her, hoping she'll finally return the gaze, that she thinks of him as much as he does her, but a watched pot never boils. She'll enter a room and choose the seat farthest from him, each centimetre of distance making Chandler want to scream and beg for forgiveness. The worst of all was when he'd make a joke, a stupid and childish joke that everyone saw coming from a mile away, and she wouldn't even crack a smile. The withdrawal from that sense of approval was becoming too much to bear, and that's when Chandler realises just how much his livelihood depended on Monica.

It turns Chandler's mind inside out– how is Monica fine with this? How does she so effortlessly carry on with a chunk of her life missing? Their view of each other definitely seemed far from equal, if Monica was fine and Chandler was parched of interaction. He can no longer wait for a moment of privacy to fall right into his lap– he'd have to take matters into his own hands, even if that puts their secret at risk.

Late into the dark night, Chandler waited for Joey to retreat to his bed. Luckily, the actor had an important audition the next morning, so he went to sleep at a reasonable-enough time. With his roommate preoccupied, Chandler slowly crept out to the hallway, the moonlight from the building window illuminating the path. As embarrassing as it was to admit, Chandler had a slight fear of the dark, so he'd have to make this operation quick. He stood in front of apartment 20 for a moment, asking himself one last time, are things really that bad between us? Would one awkward conversation be any better than days, months, maybe years of awkward interaction? Unfortunately, yes. Yes it would be.

Chandler wasn't very religious, but before he could open the door, he muttered a prayer under his breath.

God, if you can hear me, and you aren't too mad with me…please, please, PLEASE do not let Rachel be awake at this hour!

He slowly opened the door, avoiding any creaking noises, and walked into the apartment. It was completely dark, the only light coming from the bathroom door. One of the girls was awake, and depending on which, his whole entire night could be ruined. Actually, either one could very easily ruin his night.

Out of the bathroom came Monica, and Chandler internally promised to himself he'd start going to Church every Sunday again. Though she was hardly put together– dressed in pyjamas that barely clinged onto her figure and her hair tied into a low and frizzy ponytail– it reminded him all too much of the atmosphere that drawed him into this mess in the first place.

"Chandler? What are you doing here?" Monica asked, and Chandler feels like doing celebratory somersaults. This was the first time in days that Monica directly talked to him.

"Listen…I-" before he continues, he shoots a glance at Rachel's door, which was fortunately closed. He looks back at Monica, and the single light source hitting her pale skin and light blue eyes makes him forget all his words. It gives him a better look at the hickey he left behind– which had now become a greenish colour. "-I'm sorry…y'know, for the bruise?"

She raised her eyebrows before covering the mark with her hand, embarrassed to have it still be there and to have it acknowledged. They could try to avoid this talk as long as possible, but Monica carried a physical trophy of their night. "It's okay. No one else seems to have noticed."

"Yeah…it's gotten smaller?" He attempted to find the light in the situation.

"Looks like you didn't do a good job 'marking your territory'" She spoke in air-quotes, which rised a laugh out of Chandler, but when she looks away to the shadows, he realises it may not be time for laughing just yet.

Seamlessly transforming his chuckle into a cough, he begins to make his amends. "Right, that's not all. I'm really sorry about that night."

"You are?"

"Yeah, for leaving without saying anything. That was my fault– jerk move, completely on me."

There's this look on her face that he can't decipher at all– it doesn't look like anything he's seen from her before. She looked as if she were expecting something from him, a gloom in her eyes that tugged at his heart. He felt like he was on trial and staring right at the victim he knows he's wronged.

"And…what about…the sex?" She asked carefully.

"The sex! Look, Monica, that night was-" As he searched for a word to describe their night together, he struggled to find a way to condense everything they experienced. There were many words he could use to describe it, and even if it didn't accurately explain his feelings, he settled on the one that could finish this conversation the fastest. "-a mistake! And I assure you, it'll never happen again!"

If only he were smart about this and rehearsed something to say. There were a lot of things he wanted Monica to know, but the fear of worsening her opinion of him had Chandler on a leash. The last thing Chandler wants is for Monica to think he's just another guy wanting to sleep with her and nothing more. Their friendship meant so much more to him than anyone could ever imagine, and to ever lose that over mutual pity sex, he'd never forgive himself. It worried him how Monica didn't respond and he took that as an opportunity to expand. She can't know just how pathetic he really was, so he coughs out the most condensed statement he can currently think of.

"It didn't mean anything, so let's just go back to being regular friends, please?"

Monica looked taken aback at first, which takes Chandler's anxiety to heights he wasn't even aware were possible. He can tell there's heavy thought behind her eyes as they slowly shift around the room, carefully analysing Chandler's proposal. After an eternity of pondering, she finally spoke up with a faint smile.

"Good. I'm glad. It didn't mean anything to me either."

All of the tension in Chandler's shoulders released instantly, and he was glad that he wouldn't have to compromise the great bond he has with Monica.

"Perfect! So let's just forget the whole thing!"
"Let's."

Chandler stuck out his hand, to which Monica reluctantly shook to seal the deal; electricity jolted through Chandler's vein when he finally felt Monica's skin after so long. After shaking hands, they exchanged goodnights and retreated to their respective sanctuaries. Relief washed over Chandler, content with the conclusion they came to– none of it mattered! They could go back to being regular platonic best friends! They tucked away their little secret neatly into a box that is never to be opened again, and with this sense of closure, Chandler wouldn't have to worry about things being awkward between them– since they were both on the same page surrounding the matter; that's what he assumed, at least.