AUTHOR'S NOTE: The One Where Chandler Traumadumps and Monica has a Mental Breakdown

Also, the full title of this chapter is supposed to be "I Cannot Love Everybody / But You Isn't Anybody" but it was too long lol. Not that this really matters, just wanted you all to know how committed I am to using as many song lyrics from Awkward.

In just a couple hours, Monica was about to go on her first date in months. Adam– the guy Rachel suggested to her– was taking her out to a nice restaurant. Nothing very special, but it was the first date, so she couldn't really expect too much from him.

She can't help but feel plagued by her last date experience– standing in the living room after working so hard to present herself as beautifully as she could, only to see the blinking red light on her landline and have all her hopes be crushed. Monica can hardly even remember anything about the guy she was dating at the time. So much had happened in the months that passed; so much hurt, thrill, comfort and misery, she wishes she could just turn back time to that cursed Saturday night. It was a pain much simpler to process.

If she did go back in time, would she have changed anything else? It's hard to admit to herself that she wouldn't.

Even with all its complexities, fooling around with Chandler proved to be some of the most fun she's had in a long, long time. It made for great memories, phenomenal sex, and emotional breakthroughs she wouldn't have reached if anyone else tried to help her through them; there was just no one as considerate as he was. She wouldn't wish any of her struggles on anyone else, but it felt so good to have someone who related as much as he did. Romantic issues, parental issues, workplace issues– for every woe she shared, he had plenty of his own stories and jokes to tell, along with a kiss that melted away her worries.

But that was the problem; it shouldn't be this good between them. Monica wasn't good for him– for anyone, really. She can't keep dirtying his life with her own struggles and neediness. He deserved better. That's why they need to go on their separate dates and suck up whatever feelings remained.

"You want to know what you are to me? Everything."

She sat in front of her vanity, gazing down at her humble makeup collection. Not nearly as big as Rachel's, but enough to get the job done. Monica doesn't even really want to go on this date, but she has to, in order to get her life back on track.

"Suddenly, I have this amazing girl… and it's scary because I know this isn't what you want."

She put on a bold shade of red, overlining her lips into a plumper shape than her natural one. A layer of light foundation that made her nauseatingly pale. Clumpy mascara, asymmetrical eyeliner, eyeshadow not blended properly,

"And I don't know when I'll get an amazing girl again…Can you really stand there and say this isn't nice?"

Fuck, that's not how makeup should look. It's hard to do it right with all this distraction. She yanked a makeup wipe out of its little pack and aggressively rubbed her face clean, to the point where her skin burned red.

"And I like nice, I need nice, but you need…you need spectacular! You deserve spectacular!"

Even when she does her makeup nicely, it looks wrong. It always looks wrong. It's not the makeup, it's just her. Her face wasn't right for all these colours. Her body wasn't right for all these clothes. Her heart wasn't right for all these relationships. Nothing she did fixed the ugliness that ran deep in her being; you can put lipstick and earrings on a pig and call it Monica, but it's still just a pig.

"And it's my fault, because I convinced myself you wanted to hold onto this too, but that isn't what you want– and now I don't know if I want to go back. I can't handle losing all this…affection"

She threw the lipstick onto the ground in rage, and the waxy red splattered all over her carpet. The mess wasn't even the biggest thing bothering her– why can't she clear her head? Why were Chandler's words still echoing in her mind? It meant nothing– none of it meant a single thing– he was the first one to say that. Chandler was just saying words because he thinks what they had was love but it wasn't. It can't be. It wasn't possible for him to love her, not when he's seen all her flaws.

She reached for a makeup wipe and fell to the floor, trying to clean out the lipstick from the fibres. Her hands trembled as she grabbed wipe after wipe after wipe, but the crimson had already stained. Her hands were now covered in their own red filth from trying to gather the stray chunks of lipstick. The tears she had been holding back were now full-on sobs– she just wanted to be clean. Clean of this clutter; clean of her impure thoughts; clean of his grasp on her.

"It was just comfort. Easy comfort." Monica muttered to herself as she kept scrubbing her carpet, the red slowly spreading around. This mantra was one she's had to repeat ever since Chandler's outburst so that she didn't fall into the same disoriented fate of his. But it was worn out now; the more she tried convincing herself, the less she believed it.

"You're not… good enough… for him..." She could barely get out coherent words in between her tears. Drops of her mascara fell onto her hands, reminding her of the hot mess she was. She's always been desperate to become the perfect woman; thin, beautiful, calm, everything she wasn't. She mastered the art of cooking and cleaning and being the most useful asset so that people would keep her around. Chandler needed a perfect woman– he couldn't ever love someone who was crying over spilt lipstick.

Yet, somehow, he did– through all the times she cried in his arms, all the childhood stories that still bothered her twenty years later, he held her. He stayed with her through it all. Even after all the horrible accusations she's thrown at him, or the periods of radio silence she's put him through, she was still his Everything.

It hit her all at once– a wave of pain so intense, it almost left her breathless. Chandler had seen all her flaws, but he still came back every night. Monica knew just how high-maintenance she was, the furthest thing from easy. How could Chandler deal with it all if he really didn't have any feelings for her?

The loud commotion caused her roommate to rush into the bedroom, only to find a massive red stain on the carpet, pink makeup wipes littered everywhere, and a sobbing Monica in the centre of it all.

"Mon'! Oh my God!" Rachel immediately ducked down and pulled the crying girl into a hug. "What happened? What's wrong? What did you do?"

Monica's sobs had only grown stronger, rendering her intelligible. "I ruined everything!"

"No no, sweetie, don't worry, we can clean this up!" Rachel soothed her. "You're Monica Geller! You can clean any stain! Come on, don't cry…"

She wouldn't ever understand, but there wasn't anything she could say. There was no point in telling Rachel about everything now that it was fully, completely over. Monica shook in her best friend's arms, making no attempt to regain her composure. Sitting on the floor, she tried looking for the same warmth that comforted her in the past– but he wasn't here right now. Monica closed that door already. She settled for the arms of a girl who could never comprehend the hole Monica has dug herself into.

"It's okay, I'll help you get ready, okay?" Rachel kissed her forehead, sparkless and without any promise of things getting better. "We have time– you're going to look just perfect for your date. Don't you even worry!"

That was the last thing on Monica's mind right now.

"We'll get you ready, and you'll go on your date, and I'll…" Rachel looked at the gnarly smear on the carpet. "I'll call a guy to clean this up. And everything will be back to normal."

Everything will be back to normal.

That's what Monica expected when she told Chandler it was over, but everything has been feeling so upside down.

It didn't matter if he loved her before. She convinced him he didn't. She told him to go out with Elaine. She made him move on. She just needs to do the same for herself.

By the end of the work day, Chandler was so exhausted that anytime he blinked there was no guarantee his eyes would open again. He must have been the weakest man in the world for tiring out so easily from a desk job.

Before he could go home, he had to go yell at one of his subordinates for not sending in their reports on time. It's a job he hates doing because he was at the receiving end of these scoldings not that long ago, but it's a job that needed to be done, or else he'd be getting yelled at by one of his own higher-ups for not doing it. This job was an endless cycle of people yelling at each other– but at least he wasn't at the bottom of the food chain anymore.

He peered by the poor worker's desk, who seemed to be in a hurry to get home.

"Hey, Chris, got a minute?" He asked, not that he really cared.

"Mr. Bing!" Chris was startled. "I'm sorry, I really don't, I'm supposed to meet with my wife in just a couple minutes. We're going to see a movie."

But after just a second, he quickly rescinded his statement. "If it's important, I can stay a little longer."

Chandler really hated doing this kind of stuff. He doesn't want to be the mean boss that everyone hated– right now, he was just the regular boss that everyone hated. Everyone was either jealous or couldn't take him seriously. He felt bad for yelling at people who arguably did more work than him.

"No problem, I just wanted to, uhh…" Chandler looked around the man's cubicle. Next to his computer was a photo of Chris and a woman he assumed was his wife. "-say congrats! I mean, she looks like a keeper." He winked.

Chris smiled hesitantly. "Thank you?"

"Now go get 'em tiger!" Chandler immediately regretted the overzealous send-off, slapping Chris on the shoulder and propelling him out of the cubicle. Was this worthy of a HR meeting?

The poor, confused Chris hurried to the elevator to make his escape from his wretched boss, and Chandler decided that this week, he'll take the yelling from the higher ups. He's learnt how to drown it all out anyway.

This at least meant he was officially done for the day and permitted to go home; yippee!

He looked out to the floor he used to work on before his string of promotions. The endless sea of cubicles filled him with dread; truly the most soulless concept humans could ever create. Although, there was a weird sense of nostalgia to it all. He had this habit of romanticising the bad times of his life once he got out of them– always asking himself, "was this place really so bad?". But seeing the miserable faces of the people working here with little to no control over their jobs, and presumably their lives, quickly reminds him why he hates being here himself; even if he got the better deal.

Chandler trudged towards the elevator, but was stopped in his tracks when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

"Chandler! Hi." Waved Elaine, peeking out of her cubicle like a deer running out onto the road. Almost immediately, her face was covered in fear. "Oh! Sorry, should I call you Mr. Bing now?"

It was weird being referred to so formally by peers your age. "Don't worry, we're off the clock now. You could call me Asswipe for all I care."

She let out an uncomfortable chuckle– noted, don't get too funny with coworkers.

"I just wanted to apologise…I mean, I think I came on too strongly with the whole 'going out for drinks' thing." Elaine began. "I waited for your call, but by the third day, I got the hint. I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries."

"Oh– God, don't apologise. It's okay." He forgot how shitty it was not receiving a call you had been waiting– aching for. "That's completely my fault– I got caught up."

She gave a sheepish smile– Elaine in general seemed to be a very shy girl, he noticed. Far from the women he spent most of his time with. Honestly, she reminded Chandler a lot of himself. Awkward, timid, seemingly insecure– she was attractive enough that it looked adorable on her. For Chandler, it just made him a freak.

"I guess it worked out for you, though. Now you've got a really nice girlfriend." She said as she packed her belongings into her black purse.

Chandler blinked rapidly– "Girlfriend?"

"You and Monica are together now, aren't you?" She asked, and going off of the great confusion on his face, she suddenly covered her mouth. "Sorry! I just assumed…you know, since she's been in and out…"

"Trust me, you're not the first to make that mistake." Because even the two people involved couldn't tell that they weren't dating.

As if the tense shoulders weren't enough of a sign of discomfort, she prodded with more questions. "I actually haven't seen her around here in a while, now that I think about it…"

"Yeah, I guess we aren't on the greatest of terms right now…" Why is he telling her this? She doesn't care, nor does she need to know.

"Why? What happened?" Elaine sounded genuinely worried, sitting back in her chair.

Realistically speaking, this would be Chandler's only chance of talking about this whole situation with anyone– talking to someone who he probably won't be talking to again for a while. Someone far disconnected from the rest of his life. It's not like he has anything left to lose.

"It's a really long story."

She grinned. "I have time."

He was hesitant at first, but finally letting these feelings out of their cage is something he's wanted for a long time. "Well…"

God, where to even begin?

The further he explained, the more and more he sounded like a major asshole. A guy who just used women to get over his own incompetence– hell, he was currently talking to one of his almost-victims. But even with his retellings of the constant back and forth between communicating too little or seeing each other too often, Elaine's sympathy never faltered. She was confused about one specific aspect, though.

"You guys made up rules?" Elaine raised a brow.

"It sounded better at the time." He cringed. All those rules read like a cruel joke now. "We tried to make sure no one got attached."

"And then what happened?"

"I got attached." His voice was shaky. He wasn't careful and flew too close to the sun– but realistically speaking, this was bound to happen no matter how much sex the two had. There had to be a reason he always levitated towards Monica, even if he didn't know before.

He sunk his face into his hands and groaned. "But it doesn't matter now. She doesn't like me back."

Elaine, put in the awkward position of having to console her boss, just continued to ask questions. "How do you know for sure?"

"Because she's going out on a date tonight."

She pouted pitifully. "That's rough, Chandler."

"You bet." He laid against the wall of her cubicle, feeling even worse than before now that he was voicing his failures out loud. He wasn't feeling the comfort he expected.

Elaine kept her gaze fixed on the floor, slowly spinning side to side in her desk chair. "Sooo…what do you think it is? A little crush?"

Why does everyone think that?

"If a crush can make you want to kill yourself, maybe." He said absentmindedly, before quickly remembering the context of their conversation. "Please don't say anything about this to HR!"

She sealed her lips with an imaginary key and threw it away. "What is it then?"

This was his second time being asked how exactly he feels about Monica, and while it was still hard to put into words, it definitely became more clear. She was his bestest friend in the whole wide world– someone who's stuck by him for the better part of his life. Monica was the sunshine that beamed through his windows and convinced him to wake up, but also the moonlight he loved bathing in to rest. She was someone who could make him think in mushy-poetry words.

"Have you ever met someone, and you just knew that you'd never find someone like that again?" He asked rhetorically. The love he held for Monica is one that could never be replicated– and now talking to the girl Monica advised him to go for, he's even more certain about the fact. No one else had the years they spent together; the inside jokes they shared; no one else pestered Chandler to take care of himself, and no one else would see that as an act of care rather than a chore. Monica was irreplaceable, but he figured that out way too late.

Elaine had a smile that spoke many silent words– they both knew the answer to her question.

"I guess it's love." Chandler concluded, not like there was any doubt about it now.

"Did you ever tell her that?" Criminal Investigator and Special Agent Elaine asked.

He shrugged. "Sorta-kinda. It's complicated."

"I figured." She said, "I'm really sorry about all of that, Chandler. It must be tough to not have that closure."

Something about her pitiful tone triggered something in him; like a lightbulb clicked, and he was suddenly filled with a sense of determination. "She doesn't know how I really feel. She needs to know how I really feel."

"Well, she's going out with someone tonight, isn't she-"

"There's still time! Monica has to know how I feel!"

She grew more stressed by the second. "Chandler, hold on–"

"Thank you, Elaine! This was a great talk! I really needed this! You're getting a raise!" Chandler was practically jumping like a pogo-stick, skipping out of her cubicle at the speed of light, before returning and clarifying, "I'm not actually allowed to give those out, but just know you deserve one!"

And before she could stop him from doing anything rash, he was gone like the wind.

Monica needs to know that Chandler is serious about this. He's not just bored, or confused, or distracted, or any of the adjectives they used to kid themselves about this whole thing. She couldn't go on thinking that she wasn't anything more than a passing fling to him, because she couldn't be more wrong. Monica was the one constant in his life that he had been running in circles trying to find; even if they went from friends to sexual partners to something deeper, it was all Monica– and that's all he needed.

With the rush of adrenaline fueling him, he ran down the streets of New York without even bothering to wait around for a taxi, because he needed to catch her before she left for her date. This is quite possibly the most selfish thing Chandler will ever do in his whole entire life, but he couldn't rest until she knew the full story. He's tired of lying– to his friends, to Monica, to himself– but this is the most confidence he's ever felt. He's never been as sure as he is right now, as he was running to find the girl he loves.

Knocking into people and tripping over garbage, Chandler looked like a madman sprinting down roads and jumping around sharp corners, but he didn't care. He couldn't care about anything at the moment– this was his final chance to fix things. He has to tell her how he feels before this high of confidence washes away the next morning and he returns to sulking.

Maybe this would be the final blow to their friendship; the one that would destroy it once and for all, but at this point, what's another risk? Hiding has only ruined things. Lying has only ruined things. Making arbitrary rules to prevent his growing feelings from becoming something more has only ruined things. Chandler had to take his chances, because now he's seen his life without Monica, and if there was even the tiniest chance of reaching the next level with her, then he has to try.

Because there's a little smidge of hope telling him that Monica hasn't been so honest with herself, either.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: next chapter will be the last! Thanks again for everyone who's read this far. This is my first multi-chapter serious fic, so I'm really proud to have gotten this far and for so many people to enjoy my work. I know I say this every chapter, but I really am so grateful for everyone who reads and leaves comments. I hope you all stick around for whatever else I write in the future! The next chapter likely won't be too long and therefore will come out pretty soon.