Chapter Text
Joey didn’t really like London anymore.
He was having fun when they first landed. Gallivanting around English streets, taking in all the historical sights and local culture. Joey didn’t travel outside of New York much, so the novelty of a foreign city excited him greatly. Everywhere he went was something completely new, completely different, which was the problem.
This place was so alien. People drove on the other side of the road and spoke with weird accents and ate food that didn’t abide by the Geneva Conventions. The smell of cigarette smoke assaulted him on every corner he turned, which made him yearn for the street food back home. He was so used to going outside and catching a whiff of all the nearby sub shops, corner pizzerias— he even missed the Mediterranean places he rarely visited. He missed seeing trash on the street, people casually wearing Knicks jerseys, yellow taxi cabs. Everything else that made that city his. Talking to Phoebe on the phone made him realize just how far away he was from his life. It was only for a few days, but that didn’t lessen his melancholy. He jumped from one illness to another—London fever to homesickness.
He clutched the thin hotel bedsheets close to his cold body, tossing and turning, until he warily opened one eye. Met with England’s gray sky through his window, Joey groaned. Maybe he didn’t entirely believe he was in England; that’s why all of this was suddenly so daunting. Yesterday’s London streets were all just one big theme park, then he’d wake up to New York’s skyline, right? Disappointment filled his being. It was a silly wish, but silly things happened all the time. Ross was getting married to a woman he had dated for six weeks, was it so far-fetched to hope that America was peeking behind the hotel’s red curtain?
Turning to the other side of the bed, he was grateful to finally see a piece of home. Chandler was already up, neatly making his gold bed. “Morning, Joe.”
“Mornin’.”
“So, any big plans today before the rehearsal dinner?” he asked. “What do you wanna go see?” Chandler felt both guilty and a little left out after Joey’s solo adventure the day before and wanted to make up for all that he had missed out on while they still had time.
Joey crabbed like an angry child. “Nothing.”
“Come on. I’m sure there’s something you haven’t seen yet.” Chandler said, smoothing the bedsheet out one last time before stepping over to Joey’s side. “We can just walk around, do some shopping or something. Get something to eat.”
“I don’t wanna do anything.” He pulled the sheet up over his head. For his next trick, he’d pull the blanket off and find himself back in his apartment.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
“I miss home!” Joey exclaimed. “I don’t like it here!”
“What are you talking about?” He couldn’t see him, but Joey could hear Chandler walking closer. A shadow cast over him where he assumed Chandler stood. Probably with his hands in his pockets, as always. “Yesterday you loved this place, acting like it was your first day on Earth. You got mad at me just ‘cuz I wouldn’t get in one of those telephone booths with you!”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”
Chandler lifted the bedsheet, revealing his sideways face as he leaned forward to meet Joey’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
In the hole between the blanket and the mattress, he was all Joey could see. Eyes bright blue like the New York sky, Joey yearned even harder.
“Everything here is different. And not, like, Canada different. Different different!”
“Yeah, bud.” Chandler’s empathetic smile warmed the cool room.
“And it’s weird. I wanna leave.”
Now Chandler lifted the sheet entirely, bombarding Joey with the sudden brightness of the ceiling light. “It’s just two more days, and then we’re out of here in no time.”
“I know…”
“We’re here for Ross, remember?”
Joey slowly sat up, clearing space on the bed for Chandler to join him. Both of them sat on the golden bed; Chandler dressed in his usual ensemble of bowling shirt and trousers, Joey in just his boxers.
“You’re right,” Joey said. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his spread knees, head hung low, weighed down by the tinge of shame for being so negative about his friend’s special week. “I don’t know. I just feel kinda sad, I guess. I think I miss Phoebe and Rachel a lot.”
Chandler lightly clapped his hand against Joey’s shoulder, lingering. “I miss them too. They probably miss us even more.”
With his hands interlocked, Joey fiddled with his thumbs. “Be honest with me, Chandler.” His mind raced with thoughts of his separated friends and the reason they were all gathered here today. “Do you like Emily?”
“Yeah, she’s nice.”
“Do you like her with Ross?”
Chandler’s hesitance was enough of an answer. “I— I don’t know. She makes him happy. That’s all that matters, right?”
“It all happened so fast, though.” Joey said. “Everything is moving so fast.”
Chandler’s lips quivered in that way they do whenever he couldn’t find the words to say. Whenever he did this, Joey always decided to let him off easy. He didn’t like stressing Chandler out.
“Alright, let’s go.” Joey clapped his hands together and stood up in one swift motion. “I wanna get some souvenirs for Rachel and Pheebs.”
“That’s the spirit!” Chandler looked happy, which made Joey happy. But then, worry etched its way onto Chandler’s face. “You’re gonna leave the camcorder here, right? Since we’re just shopping?”
Joey laughed. He grabbed the camera from his bedside table before he grabbed his own clothes. “You, my friend, are gonna have to make peace with the camcorder.”
He expected Chandler to flip out again and refuse to go with him, or at the very least roll his eyes and let out an excruciating groan, but instead, his friend forced a smile. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”
Joey looked happy, which made Chandler happy. Hopefully.
Come round noon, all were present for the rehearsal dinner. Joey took deep breaths and tried recounting his earlier conversation with Chandler to calm himself down. They were here to support Ross. They were going home soon. Everything was okay. Everything was going to stay the same. Mostly everything. Yeah, Ross will have a new international wife, whom he’d probably want to spend more time with, given that he barely knew her. But that was fine, because less Ross was still Ross. Then everyone else would eventually follow in his footsteps and get married and have kids and live their own lives. And Joey will get to live alone in his apartment with the occasional phone call from everyone else. And the only thing that will remain in his life is the Statue of Liberty in the view from his window. But it’d be fine because change was a good thing and they couldn’t be twenty-seven forever. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
“You good, man?”
Pulling him out of dissociation was Chandler, who took his side by the wall. After a couple of blinks as he readjusted to reality, Joey took in the room around him. Ross, Emily, and Monica stood at the front, practicing their greetings for tomorrow. Guests slowly poured in and took their seats. Unfamiliar guests. He didn’t even recognize anyone from Ross’s side who didn’t fly here with him. All these people were candidates for his replacement. Once Ross rejoined married life, why would he want to slum it with someone like Joey, who clung to adolescence like Velcro?
“Yeah, I’m— I’m fine.” His throat was irritatingly dry.
Chandler stood relaxed, casual, next to him. How was he fine with all this? How could he not care that the carousel of life was spinning rapidly enough for them to fall off their horses?
“Is this about what I think it’s about?”
“No, no,” Joey assured, “I’m fine. Really. I was, uhh— I was just so moved by the love in this room, y’know?” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. With narrow eyes and a hanging jaw ready to dispute his claim, Chandler didn’t buy it. Joey was never a good liar, especially around his best friend. He was glass that Chandler saw right through every single time—except for now, when Chandler decided to stay quiet. Whatever he saw, he decided not to engage, and Joey felt thankful.
A waiter came from behind them holding a plate of mini appetizers that Joey couldn’t recognize. Food. That was Joey’s thing. And he couldn’t even figure out what they were. It was like he stepped onto a different planet and was surrounded by aliens. They all sure talked like aliens.
He eyed the food suspiciously. “What’s in it?”
“Goat cheese, water chestnuts, and pancetta.”
That was just a string of unrelated syllables. “That’s not food!” he complained. As the waiter left, Joey aggressively tapped Chandler on the shoulder, repeating the morning’s words. “Everything’s different here! I wanna go home.”
Chandler raised his brows.
“I— I miss my family, I miss the coffee house…I can’t even remember what Phoebe looks like!”
As he spoke, Chandler shook his head disapprovingly. “Joey, it’s been two days! Okay? You’re just a little homesick.” He just didn’t understand. Chandler, with his patronizing, waving hands that urged him to stay quiet. “Would you just try to relax and just— just try to enjoy yourself!”
This was bad. And unusual. “You’re different here too!” Joey accused. “You’re mean in England!”
He stormed past guests and out through the room’s front entrance. Chandler followed close behind, calling his name, but he wasn’t quite as fast as Joey was. Eventually, they were off in a secluded hallway. Surrounded by paintings of landscapes in gold frames, white pedestals with detailed vases and flowers that, by the smell of it, were all real. This hall was so fancy, nothing like what Joey was used to. He covered his eyes tightly with his hands, leaning against a velvet wall, giving Chandler a chance to catch up.
“Dude, seriously, what’s going on?”
Joey took another deep breath. He’s never this troubled.
“Talk to me, Joe.”
Chandler’s comforting hand returned to Joey’s shoulder, and only then could he lift his hands and face his friend. Before, he was frustrated, now he only looked concerned.
“Everything’s changing, man.” Joey began. “Three months ago Ross was single, and now he’s gettin’ married. Married!”
“I know—”
“And Phoebe’s pregnant. Soon Monica’s probably gonna be married and pregnant. Everything around us is changing! I can’t take it!”
“Joe—” He grabbed onto both of Joey’s shoulders as he wailed, standing close, so that the gold frames or fancy vases couldn’t overwhelm him. All in sight was Chandler. “It’s okay. Yeah, some stuff has happened, but a lot of stuff will stay the same!”
“Not forever.” Joey said quietly. “You guys are all gonna grow up and start families or whatever. And you’ll say nothing’s gonna change but I know it will. We’re all gonna drift apart.”
“What do you mean ‘you guys’? Joey, you’ll have your own family too.”
Joey scoffed. “Please. Me? By the time Mon’ has her fifth kid, I’ll probably be on my fifth girlfriend of that month.”
“Give yourself some more credit, man.”
“It’s not that, Chandler. It’s just—” The words kept getting stuck in his throat. “I don’t know. I’m just tired.”
It was silent for a moment, aside from the faraway chatter of wedding guests. This was the first time in a long, long time that he acknowledged his own fears head on. Everything stayed repressed ever since Ross and Rachel broke up, because he waited and waited for all to go back to normal. Then he realized actions have consequences. Things come and go, and when they come back, it’s still different from how it was. There would always be a lingering presence, or absence, reminding him of what things used to be like and how they’d never be like that again. He couldn’t expect anything to bounce back. Life was constantly moving, and he’d never know for sure where it’d take him. He’d never know how good he had it until it’s all gone. He didn’t want it to be gone.
And Chandler—with his uncertain pout—stood still, hands still on broad shoulders but shaky, nervous, unsure of what to do. Chandler liked saying he’d die alone, but Joey knew better; Chandler was a catch. Any woman would be lucky to take Chandler away from him. Then they’d grow old, and Joey would just be a footnote in Chandler’s life—an old roommate, someone who bit and bit off of him until he had nothing left. They’d go through photo albums and laugh at every picture with Chandler’s selfish old friend, who was probably rotting alone somewhere in a nursing home.
“We’re never gonna drift apart, Joe. Are you kidding?” he finally began. “You’re my best friend. Nothing’s gonna change that.”
“But—”
“No, you listen.” His hands quickly travelled to the side of Joey’s face, holding him tight, grounding his floating head to Earth. When standing this close, he could see how Chandler’s focused eyes darted between his own. “Things are gonna change. We can’t stop that. But right now, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re one of the most important people in my life, man. I can’t live without you.” he coughed. “None of us can.”
“What about…? When you get married?”
“First of all, pigs need to fly for that to happen. They need to fly and speak Spanish and be able to parallel park for me to get married.” Chandler joked. It was enough for Joey to crack a tiny smile. “When all those things happen, and I find a woman sad enough to settle with me, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna let her take all my time. She’s not gonna want to watch Baywatch and throw water balloons at random pedestrians with me.”
“Baywatch is gonna air that long?”
“Hell yeah. Once the Earth dries up, they’ll move to Mars.”
They both chuckled.
“But just because I’ll have my own things happening doesn’t mean you’ll be cut out of my life. I could never do that. You’ll always have a space in my life, Joe. All of our lives.”
Joey sighed deeply. It sounded promising, but less Chandler was never going to be a good thing. “It’ll still be different. I don’t want things to change from how they are right now. I like things right now.”
Chandler smiled. “So let’s not think about the future. Let’s just focus on right now. We have a lot of time, don’t we?”
He looked down for a second, twisted his black dress shoe against the floor before meeting Chandler’s gaze again. It was a kind of moment they don’t normally have. Usually, Joey’s the one to cheer Chandler up whenever he gets too existential about his dating life. Part of him felt embarrassed, with Chandler so close to him, seeing his inner thoughts in utmost quality. Joey’s reflection marked a speck of brown in Chandler’s impossibly blue eyes. He could see his own cheeks flush, his own lips uncontrollably curving into a grin.
“Thanks, man.” He nervously held his arms open, needing a hug he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have from the reserved Chandler, but Chandler was quick to pull him into a proper embrace, his hands patting Joey’s back.
“Don’t mention it.”
The hug was short-lived; Chandler quickly pulled back and checked his watch. Still, it was enough to wash away most of Joey’s gloom.
“We should run back. Dinner’s about to start. We gotta give our speeches soon.”
Joey nodded.
Chandler wasn’t a big fan of physical touch as a display of affection. That became a source of teasing between them, Joey jokingly getting too touchy and Chandler having to shove him away. They were both guys, and Chandler had an upbringing that made him uncomfortable with guys being intimate, so Joey understood why Chandler squirmed whenever they hugged. That’s why it came to him as a great surprise that just now, when they did, Chandler was languid. Perhaps he really knew just how much his friend needed him in that moment, a beam of support. For that, Joey was grateful.
They returned to the main hall, the actor feeling lighter than before. The table closest to the front already had Ross, Emily, and Monica sitting down, along with Helen and Arthur—the maid of honour and a groomsman from Emily’s side—and three empty chairs.
The two boys took their seats next to the groom, who tried his best to console his upset fiancée.
“I can’t believe it. On such short notice, too!” Emily said, voice hitchy like she was near tears.
“What’s going on?”
“Felicity called,” Ross answered Chandler, “She can’t make it. Apparently, she’s got a fever.”
“Thirty-nine degrees!” The bride cried.
“Thirty-nine?” Joey said in disbelief. “What, she fell asleep in a freezer?”
Chandler leaned into his ear. “Celcius, Joe.”
“Ah.” Not like Joey knew what that would be in Fahrenheit. Hot, he assumed. “Who’s Felicity?”
“One of the bridesmaids.” Monica filled him in.
“Was I supposed to walk with her?”
“Yes.” Emily answered. “No. Wait, you’re walking with my mother. Felicity was supposed to walk with— who was Felicity supposed to walk with?” She ducked her head against Ross’s shoulder. “I’m so confused.”
As the worried woman sulked, both Geller siblings did their best to assure her everything would go perfectly. There was nothing in this world that could derail this wedding. Joey shot a look toward the empty seat next to him. That must be two cases of London fever.
Then, Chandler stood up and clinked his fork against his champagne glass. “I’d like to make a toast to Ross and Emily,” he announced, putting his hand on Ross’s shoulder. He stood tall and official, the image of a perfect best man. His tailored suit hugged him perfectly, which made Joey slightly envious when he looked down at his rented one; loose in some places, tight in others. “Of course, my big toast will be tomorrow at the wedding, so this is kind of like my little toast. Or Melba toast, if you will.”
Joey prepared to laugh, but quickly stifled it once he realized the rest of the room was dead silent. Maybe that was a British thing, to be miserable all day and never laugh or smile.
Chandler cleared his throat. “I’ve known Ross for a long time. In fact, I knew him since he was going out with his first girlfriend. And I thought things were going to work out for him, until one day he overinflated her!” he paused for laughter, but still, all that filled the room were coughs and awkward exchangings of glances. “Oh dear god.”
Joey knocked on his leg. “The British thing! Say the British thing!” he whispered. Joey watched Chandler rehearse his speech for him and the mirror millions of times. He helped with revising and editing and informing Chandler whenever his jokes didn’t come across well. So much so that this was Joey’s speech just as much as Chandler’s.
“Right! Right. Y’know, Ross has always had an interest in the ancient. He’s a paleontologist, which I’d hope we all know. So it makes sense he fell in love with someone British, since you guys…your culture…”
A sea of unamused, offended British faces stared at him blankly. Joey tried sliding underneath the table, nearly choking on second-hand embarrassment.
“Anyway! I’m sure we’re all very excited that Ross and Emily are getting married at Montgomery Hall. I mean, to think, my friend getting married in Monty Hall.” he paused once again to no avail. “Oh, come on! Monty Hall? Let’s Make a Deal? Come on, you people! Alright, forget it. Congratulations, Ross and Emily.” he muttered the last few words before taking his seat, ducking his head in shame.
Now that it was Joey’s turn, he swallowed hard. Chances were slim that he could do any worse than Chandler, but still, the tough crowd wrecked with his nerves.
“Hey, best man number two, Joey Tribbiani!” he laughed nervously. Stage-fright was a brand new experience for him. He’d at least use this as an opportunity to post-humously elevate his best friend. “Now, I’m not good with the jokes like Chandler here, but, uhh…I just want to say congratulations to the happy couple. I first met Ross in this coffee house back home…home…” just saying it had all these emotions rushing in at once. “Home…New York City…where everybody knows my name…well, anyway. I love you guys, but not as much as I love America!” He angrily pointed around the room. This was his personal payback for Jamestown. When he fell into his seat, he whispered to Chandler one last time, “Could we please go home now?”
Dinner went by quickly. The second that the hour hand reached nine, Monica instructed everyone to go home so that the bride and groom could get all their required rest before the special day. Under her dictatorship, the hall emptied out in no time.
Joey couldn’t say that he enjoyed himself much. Chandler helped calm him down but the homesickness wouldn’t go away that easy. A tinge of sadness struck him every time he really thought about just how far he was from home. That wasn’t what kept Joey so on edge, however. Mainly, it was watching Chandler sulk around after his speech, interrogating random guests for their thoughts and feedback, just to ruin his esteem even further when none of them were all that responsive.
The two walked back up to their shared room, both a little tipsy from wallowing by the bar. It was Joey who had to drag Chandler away from his umpteenth glass of whiskey. He was used to this, Chandler wasn’t a stranger to coping with alcohol. By no means an addict but it happened enough that Joey knew not to keep tequila around after a break-up. This always concerned him, but it was better than smoking, he figured. Once they got back to their room, Chandler locked the door behind them, immediately ripping his tie off.
“That’s it. I’m officially the laughing-stock of this wedding.” he lamented. “Emily could come out as a lesbian tonight and I’ll still be the worst thing that happened before the ceremony.”
“Would you relax?” Joey urged. Switching roles, now his hand was on Chandler’s shoulder. “Your speech was good. It was funny!”
“Right, that’s why the whole hall was roaring in laughter.” he deadpanned.
“Well, I thought it was funny.”
Chandler shook his blazer off and tossed it to the bench in front of his bed. “So why didn’t you laugh?”
“I wanted to! But I got scared!”
“Of?”
“I dunno, I thought it was some sacred British tradition to not laugh at jokes.”
“Might as well be.” Chandler muttered, loosening his collar.
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal. They’ll forget all about it once you give your real speech tomorrow.”
“What if they don’t like my real speech?” Chandler asked. “What if they hate it even more? Joe, what if they boo me?”
“None of that is gonna happen.” Was this how nonsensical Joey sounded earlier?
Chandler’s hands rummaged around in his hair, full of stress. “Oh god. They’re probably all talking about me right now. That silly American boy has never heard a joke in his life!” his mock-British accent didn’t sound so good when he was upset.
“No one’s sayin’ that—”
“What if my speech tomorrow is so bad, it makes Emily reconsider the wedding? What if she doesn’t want to be with Ross anymore because he’s friends with a lousy, unfunny moron like me?”
There was no stopping Chandler when he went on one of his insecure rants. “Dude, are you hearin’ yourself right now?”
Now, Chandler was pacing back and forth. It was safe to say he couldn’t hear anything at all. “Ross is gonna get divorced, again, and it’s gonna be my fault. And I won’t even be able to comfort him cuz he’s already used to British humor and he’s not going to find me funny! And then he won’t want to be my friend either!”
If he continued anxiously pondering and making up scenarios, Joey’s head might explode.
“Oh my god. I ruined this wedding. We have to find Ross, tell him to leave before it’s too late and—”
There was only one way Joey knew how to shut him up that worked on just about everyone under the sun. He grabbed Chandler by the sides of his face and shoved their lips together, holding on for just about five seconds before releasing his now stunned friend. Eyes wide like a deer in headlights— or like Rudolph when they passed the moon, given how red Chandler was.
“W-what was that?” he stammered.
“You were makin’ me nervous! I wanted you to shut up!”
“So you kiss me? You could’ve slapped me or covered my mouth, but no, you decide to kiss me?”
In all fairness, he did cover his mouth.
Joey gulped. “It’s worked before…”
January 1st, 1995. Chandler jumped up and down, begging for someone to kiss him at midnight. The yelling only stopped once Joey gave him what he wanted. He sort of assumed that was a sure-fire way of getting Chandler to stop talking. Maybe he assumed wrong.
“Look, man, I’m sorry. That was weird of me. I didn’t mean it.”
Chandler wobbled over by the bed bench, one hand on his hips, the other grabbing at his own hair. “It’s fine. It’s fine.”
“Seriously. I don’t know what I was thinking! It was stupid! Let’s just forget about it, alright? Chandler?”
He faced away from him, eyes stuck on the fibres beneath his shoes. “It’s fine, Joey. It’s fine.” But it couldn’t have been, if he was acting like a broken record.
“I am so, so sorry man.” Joey cautiously stepped forward behind him, reaching out for Chandler’s arm. “Please, look at me—”
He was scared to touch him. A fragile statue at the museum, one that they advise you not to touch, one where flash-photography wasn’t allowed, because even the slightest of contact risked it crumbling to dust. But he needed to know that his friend didn’t hate him over this one mistake. That he wouldn’t leave him earlier than fate planned for him to. That they still had time. Joey’s careful fingers grazed him, and like a triggered mechanism, Chandler swung around on his heel, yanking Joey forward by his shirt collar and smacking their lips together once again. The sudden force had Joey stumbling backwards, forcing him to grab onto Chandler’s sleeves to try and keep himself up. This time, they remained connected for longer.
Chandler was different in England. No longer allergic to intimate touch, with open lips he invited Joey’s tongue to meet his own. His tight hands relaxed, one cradling Joey’s neck, the other planted on his chest. He could taste it a little, all of Chandler’s sorrow, covered in alcohol, now travelling into his own body and making him even more delirious than he already was. Neither of them drank all that much tonight but Joey clung onto that concept as hard as he could, the closest thing he had to an excuse.
A slow string of spit hung between them as Chandler pulled away. Slowly, janky, like being forced to. Timid blue eyes peered down at him before he jumped back, defensively holding his hands in the air, lest they do it thrice.
“Woah woah woah. You and I just made out.”
“Yuh-huh…” still in disbelief, all Joey could do was wipe his wet lips.
“Why are we making out?”
“I don’t know, you did it!”
“You started it!”
“Yeah, but you did it all— all— all horny!”
“I did not—”
If they weren’t scared enough, the knock at the door nearly sent them both flying out of the window. They looked to the door, then to each other, then back to the door, before a drunk voice called out.
“Hello? Joey?”
It was Monica. “It’s Monica!” Chandler whispered, harsh and afraid. Joey waved his hands dismissively, urging Chandler to calm himself as he went to answer the girl’s call.
“Hey, Mon’, what’s up?”
She stood there, flushed, a scotch in hand with her fingers gripping the straw. “Hey Joe.” Her voice was loose and casual, rare for the uptight woman unless she was down a couple drinks. She stretched her neck out to inspect the room inside, catching the brunette standing tall with folded arms. “Oh. You’re not alone.”
“Yeah. ‘Cuz this is my room. I sleep here. That’s why I’m here.”
“Right.” she said.
“What’s wrong with you?” Joey asked, while holding the door tight with his hand, blocking off the entrance with his body. He needed this to be quick, he had more important matters at hand.
Of course, Monica was freakishly strong, so she pushed her way in, wobbling to the bench next to Chandler. “Can you believe what happened to me today?”
“You barged into someone’s room uninvited?” Chandler had important matters too.
“This guy…some British guy…came up to me and he said, you know what he said?” She recounted, “he said…I must’ve been a teenager when I had Ross…he thought I was his mom! Can you believe that?” she was laughing, until she grabbed onto Chandler’s pant leg, desperation on her face. “Can you?”
“Hey, at least he thought you were a young mom!”
Monica let out a muffled cry against his thigh. He softly rubbed her hair.
“Look, Mon’, that guy was probably wasted out of his mind.” Chandler looked up to his roommate. “We all had some drinks tonight, and maybe aren’t acting as we usually do.”
Joey felt a pit in his stomach.
“But— but— but—” She hiccuped between each word.
“You’re beautiful, Monica. Don’t let some old drunk dude get you down.” Joey consoled, joining her on the bench. Now, he looked up to his roommate. “We’re all feeling a little lonely tonight and could use the company.”
Monica wiped her tears with a smile. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if I stayed here for a little while?”
Right, he didn’t think that one entirely through. “Ah, actually, I think you should probably get some sleep. You look pretty wasted.”
“Here, I’ll walk you back.” Chandler helped her up and slowly ushered her out of the room. She clinged onto his arm, taking tiny steps in her red heels. He closed the door behind them, not without giving Joey one last glare.
Left alone, Joey sunk his head into his palms. God, what was wrong with him? Why was he so depressed? He was just homesick, Chandler said so himself. So why did it hurt so much, even though he was going home soon? Why did it hurt so much to think about his best friend getting married? Why did it hurt so much to watch him walk with a woman around his arm? Why did it hurt so much when he pushed him away, and why did it feel so good when he brought him back in for a kiss?
Everything was so confusing. Different, and confusing. London fever was getting to his head, making him want new things. He was good at repressing thoughts; he could easily smush them underneath his shoe. But this one, this one stuck like glue. Even when he shut his eyes, the image of it all was imprinted onto his retinas. Chandler with his soft pink lips and urgent tongue. Why, why, why was this all happening to him?
There was a creak, then the sound of the door shutting. He wearily lifted his head to see that Chandler returned, standing shy with his hands folded behind his back.
“So, uh…where— where did we leave off?” he croaked.
Joey blinked. “Uhh…I think we were…trying to settle who made the first move.”
“Right, right.”
“Which I think was me.”
“Maybe,” Chandler stepped forward. “But it could’ve been me. Y’know how I get when I drink.”
“Yeah.” Joey laughed awkwardly, eyeing his tall friend up and down. “Are you…? Drunk? Right now?”
“Not really.” he admitted.
“Cool.” Joey fiddled with his thumbs. He wasn’t sure at all what to do right now. “You’re, uhh…good. At kissing.”
“I am?” Chandler sounded sincerely surprised. A little hopeful, even. His eyes were big and round, enticing, impossible to look away from. Everywhere Joey’s gaze ran off to, it always made its way back home.
“Yeah. I didn’t expect that. I don’t really think of you as a good kisser.”
Chandler took a cautious second step forward. This time, he wasn’t so surprised. Amused instead. “You think of me kissing you?”
Not purposely. Joey would be lying if he said he never pictured it. Their New Year’s kiss was just a quick peck, dry and insignificant. Pure curiosity had him wondering how it would’ve gone if they didn’t have an audience.
“Do you?” he carefully returned the question.
Bold Chandler suddenly turned flustered, anxiously rubbing his nose. Joey could predict every one of his Chandlerisms. “No.”
“You sure?” Now stood up, Joey jerked his head towards him to inspect the fidgety boy, who averted his gaze, staring high up where Joey couldn’t reach.
“You answer my question first.” Chandler practiced confidence, but he wasn’t perfect. A slight waver gave him away. They both tested the waters but were afraid to plunge. They waited until the temperature was right.
“I just meant that…I always imagined I was a better kisser than you.”
“Are you?”
Chandler’s avid voice entranced him like the siren’s song. It had Joey aching to know what pitches it could reach, what would make him reach it.
“Pfft. Are you kidding? You realize who you’re talkin’ to, right?”
The siren licked his lips, inching closer to the sailor. The space between them was running out, the room around them becoming an unimportant blur of white and yellow. His movements were so agonizingly subtle, Joey wished he could fast-forward, jump in the water. He was getting restless. He needed him.
“I don’t know, I think I gave you a run for your money.”
“You think so?” Joey’s voice fell into something right above a whisper. There wasn’t any point talking loud when Chandler was right there, barely a finger away. “Think we need another trial? To make sure?”
“That depends…” His fingers tiptoed up Joey’s tie and looped behind the knot, lightly tugging. “Just how badly do you wanna know?”
Now they were right in front of each other, like in the hallway, with the brown speck in Chandler’s blue eyes, and Joey could see his reflection again and see that he was all red, this time for an entirely different reason. They were so close, that Joey could smell him each time he breathed in; his coconut-scented leave-in conditioner and the free cologne Joey gifted him from an old job, and the New York air. This was it. Home.
Right here, Joey felt at true ease. His stomach settled. His homesickness started to fade.
He leaned in, slow and passionate, nipping at Chandler’s lips, until his hunger grew strong and they increased the pace. His hands instinctively fell to Chandler’s waist, pulling him into his chest. If he let go right now, where would Chandler go? Joey couldn’t find out, he didn’t want to. He couldn’t let his best friend leave him. Not yet. They still had time. He couldn’t waste a single second of it being apart.
Chandler helped him with taking off his blazer and undoing his tie, casting both pieces off to the side. Sounds of pleasure echoed between them as they stumbled back onto Chandler’s bed as a single entity, kicking off their shoes, Joey pinning him down on the perfectly smooth sheet. It was then that all of this felt less like a guilty thought, a wet dream, and more like what it was: reality. Chandler staring up at him, biting his lip, eagerly awaiting his next move. His chest rising up and down with every heavy breath, begging to be free from the cotton cage. It excited Joey even more, which he didn’t know was possible. This was his roommate, his best friend, that he was straddling. Without thinking, Joey began unbuttoning his own shirt.
“We’re doing this?” Chandler breathed out.
“Only if you want to.” Joey repeated. “Do you want to?”
There was a brief pause. Chandler’s jaw quivered, but nothing made it out of him. Then in a blink of an eye, his shirt was hanging off the nightstand, and the two desperately undid each other's belts.
The view from above was unreal. His clean-shaven chest, impossibly smooth skin softer than the pillow beneath them. His ribs played peek-a-boo with his frantic movement—Chandler didn’t pack on very much muscle, but it felt like he fit perfectly in Joey’s hands, like his bones were moulded from Joey’s fingers. There was a tiny pink scar from where his nubbin used to be, nearly faded but not entirely, present enough that it had Joey fantasizing about having all three in front of him. Marvellous, how his whole body twitched when Joey pressed kisses everywhere between his long neck and his Calvin Klein waistband.
Chandler saw Joey naked often, whether he wanted to or not. That was just part of their roommate agreement. But this was the most of Chandler that Joey ever saw. All of it, he made sure to remember. A blessing for the eyes when they traced every edge and curve of his body.
It was easy, natural, almost like muscle memory. His knee planted itself between Chandler’s legs, and he could feel both of their pants tightening with desire. Somewhere in the middle of it all, their pants got lost in the hotel room. Nothing beyond this bed mattered.
Boxers hastily ripped away so that nothing came between their skin. Tender movement so that he could savour the moment, appreciate every little sound that escaped from his roommate. Moaning Joey’s name into his shoulder, it vibrated against his ribs, it drove him crazy. He felt like an animal. If he wasn’t careful, Joey would tear Chandler apart. He was already biting down on the other man’s lip.
This must’ve been what Chandler felt from smoking. Inexplicable pleasure from something he knew was wrong, but just how wrong could it be, if it felt this good? If Joey fit so perfectly between Chandler’s lips like a cigarette? He’s tried him once and now he’s unsure how he was supposed to refrain from this, how he’s supposed to look Chandler in the eye and not jump at him. It’s fine, they didn’t have to think about the future. He would focus on right now and nothing else. It was hard not to.
Together, underneath the covers, they made magic. Parallel bodies grinding to the beat of their hearts, friction burning the room. Joey gave him a hand, and Chandler reciprocated. With locked eyes and a quickening pace, they brought each other to release. Out of them two, Joey was far more athletic. He won every race up the stairs, down the hallway, every contest to see who could eat the most pizza in the shortest amount of time. Today was Chandler’s rare opportunity to win, today he finished first.
A chill coursed throughout Joey’s entire being once he came down from the firework feeling; a mix of relief that the overwhelming sensation was gone, and disbelief at what they had just done. He flopped to the side of the bed, both of them now staring at the ceiling with their sweaty arms pressed together. Seconds drifted away with nothing but hot breathing and heavy heart beats.
For the duration of their time, Joey felt at home; Joey felt confident that nothing would change so long as he had his best friend here, experiencing the same joy and euphoria as him. But now, watching the ceiling fan spin and spin and spin, he realized he may have made a grave mistake. Would this not change things, by a possibly significant amount? Perhaps he jumped the gun a little here.
Chandler spoke first. “That was…”
“Something.”
“Yeah.”
More silent seconds came between them. Joey just had sex with his best friend, his roommate, a guy. That was different. Completely different. A good different?
This time, Joey spoke first. “Did you— uh…enjoy it?”
It might have been a silly question, considering how Chandler whined his name in a sultry tone Joey only recognized at night between their walls, but still, Joey needed reassurance that he was just as good when it came to the same gender. He waited and waited for an answer, but got none. He turned to see Chandler already fast asleep. Peaceful, the same face Joey saw when he stepped out at night to use the bathroom and saw a sleeping Chandler on his barcalounger, television remote in hand. A crucial familiarity Joey needed amidst all this change.
He carefully pulled the covers up to their shoulders, feeling himself get drowsy too. The last thing he felt before sleep took over was a soft head of hair nestling against his neck, and a pair of arms wrapping around his own.