A/N: This one is set between TOW Rachel's Crush and TOW Joey's Dirty Day, right after Chandler and Kathy break up.

Thump.

Thump.

A sleepless Monica groaned and pushed back her covers. She stepped out of bed and quietly made her way to the front door.

Looking through the peephole, she frowned at who was on the other side.

"Chandler, it's like 3:30, what are you doing?"

Chandler sat slumped against his apartment door. "I-I dunno, I lost my shoe!"

"Uh, no," Monica began, reaching down and grabbing the loafers that were haphazardly strewn across the hallway. "Were you throwing these at my door?"

He giggled loudly, looking very much like a child who'd been caught doing something naughty. "Nope."

"Jesus, how drunk are you?" Monica asked, crouching down before him.

"Not at all," he answered with a hiccup. "Mmm... 'kay maybe a li'l bit."

She looked at him, concerned, before standing and offering her hand. "Alright, let's get you inside."

"Mon-Monica, I don't... I can't, I can't find my key," he admitted clumsily, the alcohol undoubtedly having an effect on his ability to form sentences.

She smirked. "Is that why you were throwing shoes at my door?"

He nodded and used the doorknob to pull himself up. After ensuring he was okay to stand, she dashed back into her apartment and grabbed her spare key.

When she returned, he slung an arm around her shoulders and leaned his weight against her tiny body. She unlocked and nudged open the door.

"Okay, come on."

"Y'know," Chandler slurred, squinting at the carpet beneath him. "I'm really not that drunk."

Monica grinned, doing her best to suppress her laughter. "Your breath begs to differ."

Together they stumbled through the dark apartment towards his bedroom, his lean form proving to be a little much for her.

She walked him to his bed, not bothering to turn on the light. He sighed heavily before plopping face-first into the mattress.

"Why is it so easy to forget about me?" Chandler asked abruptly, his voice muffled by his pillow.

She sat down on the bed and looked at his silhouette, worry lining her features. "What do you mean?"

"First Janice, now Kathy," he mumbled sadly, the bed dipping as he shifted his body to face her. "Why is it so easy for everyone to give up on me? To cheat? To leave?"

He scoffed bitterly. "I mean am I just that bad of a guy?"

Monica felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes listening to just how broken he sounded.

"Oh, sweetie..."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, scooting closer to him. "What they did wasn't your fault. You're a great guy, Chandler. The best one I know."

Even in the darkness of his bedroom she could feel his blue eyes locked on her own.

"You should probably go meet more guys then."

Monica sighed at the self-deprecating comment, both impressed and frustrated with Chandler's ability to use humor as a defense mechanism - even when drunk. He always knew exactly how to lighten a mood or make everyone around him laugh, but she often found herself saddened by the off-handed jabs he would throw out at his own expense.

Did he really have such a crappy sense of self-worth? She honestly couldn't understand how.

The silence in the bedroom engulfed them for a few moments, for which Monica was grateful as she had no clue how to respond. She focused instead on the shadows being cast in the room by the orange street lamps just outside the window.

"Mon?"

"Hm?"

"Do you...do you mean it?"

"Chandler," Monica whispered with a soft smile, sliding herself down and resting her head on the pillow beside his, facing him. "You're smart and charming. You're the one person who can put a smile on my face, even when smiling is the last thing I want to be doing. You're witty and caring and adorable...

"Face it, Chandler Bing, you are the best guy I know."

Her hand came up to rest on his cheek and she almost gasped when she felt wetness beneath her fingertips.

She knew Chandler had innumerable insecurities stemming from his dysfunctional childhood - she did, too - most of which likely led to his issues with commitment, but she had no idea his scars ran so deep.

The pad of her thumb moved across his skin, carefully brushing away the tears. If it wasn't obvious before, she knew now that he had to be absolutely hammered; there was no way he would allow her to see him in such a vulnerable state if he was even remotely sober.

Monica adjusted herself and gently guided his head to rest on her chest, mildly surprised when his arms wrapped around her midsection, holding her tightly. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the top of Chandler's head, wishing she knew what to say or do to make him feel better.

She wasn't quite sure how long they remained in that position, but upon hearing his breathing even out, and when the tears that had seeped through the thin material of her t-shirt had dried, she figured he'd fallen asleep. Delicately, she began to extricate herself from his hold.

"Stay with me, Mon," Chandler said suddenly, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please?"

Her heart hammered against her ribcage as he pulled her back towards him, enveloping her in a firm hug. She nodded against his head and placed another gentle kiss into his hair.

"I won't leave you. I'm not going anywhere, Chandler."