Disclaimer: I don't own Friends or anything pertaining to it. All the rights go to the rightful owners.

A/N: Set after/during The One with the Prom Video. Also, Mondler. *heart (s2ep14)

She hadn't wanted anyone to see that tape and yet there she herself sat with them, smiling and laughing at the girl who used to be.

Used to be. Often, she caught herself wondering if she were any different at all, though thinking about it made her sick. In some ways, the life she led at her older age was meant to make up for her trashy elementary and high school experiences of being so big. Living in the Big City in her own apartment as a chef–currently unemployed but life happens–was kind of a dream, and one she'd never even had until she wanted to lose her weight.

Now, she was curled on her couch while Rach' and her brother… shared words in Rachel's room. She was so happy they were finally back together–though, before they'd only 'been together' for half a second…–she really was, but she still couldn't stop thinking back to the Dark Times. It left her silent and pensive, staring at nothing while her chin pressed onto her fist, her arm crooked against her chest.

Knock knock knock-knock knock knock knock. "Mon'? Rach'?"

Monica hoisted her small frame off of the cushions and went to open the door for Chandler. "Yeah?" she said once she had.

His eyebrows dragged together. "Hello to you, too."

"Chandler, seriously? It's nearly eleven," she retorted.

Her friend held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, hey, okay, sorry. I just wanted to grab that extra carton you've got of juice."

"Chandler. It's eleven o'clock," Monica repeated, enunciating her words.

"I heard you the first time, thanks," Chandler said with his usual sarcastic smile. "Joey an' I need it for tomorrow morning."

"Why d'you need it now? Couldn't you come, I dunno, in the morning, when I'm more likely to be awake?" she snapped.

"You're awake. Right now. Why wait?" She glared at him. "Just gimme the damn juice would you?" Monica rolled her eyes, her lips pressed together tightly as she stalked to the fridge. "Mon', what's up with you? You're acting extra stingy."

"Nothing. Nothing's up." She shoved the carton into his hands, pressing it into his abdomen. Again, he stared at her in surprised confusion. "Goodnight, Chandler." She shut the door and leaned her back against it, breathing out. Knock. Pause. Knock knock-knock-knock–

Monica spun and reopened the door. "What, Chandler?"

"Well, I was right then. Something's wrong."

"Yeah, I'm not sleeping." Chandler, with an eye roll, adjusted his feet to lean in her doorframe. "Mon'," he said, "you aren't even in pajamas."

"So now you know what my pajamas look like?" she replied lamely.

"Actually, I do, but that's a different conversation for a different night. Besides, you were wearing those clothes when I left."

"Sounds like some shitty proof to me."

"Monica, are you gonna stand there and throw lame insults at me or're you gonna just let it go and tell me what's up? Cuz, I mean, I'm good. Got juice and stuff." Monica lifted her eyes to the ceiling, stepping aside to allow Chandler in. He grinned triumphantly and set the juice onto the table, then dropped himself into the black armchair diagonal of the couch.

"So," Chandler began. Monica crossed her arms, leaning back on the couch. "What's eating you?" he asked her after a second, sitting forward. Monica glanced down. Why did he have to say it that way? Eating?

"Prom. Can't believe I went with Roy," Monica said, tearing a laugh from her throat.

Chandler nodded slowly. "Wow. You suck at lying, did you know that?"

"Yes, I know that!" griped Monica. "But that isn't even a lie!"

"Aaaand ya still suck. Mon', just spit it out." If he didn't quit it…

"Chandler, enough, okay?" she said, her voice risen. "Enough with the stupid fat food jokes; they aren't funny!"

"What?" He appeared to be genuinely lost. "What're you talking about–"

"Conneticut? You think I haven't heard anything like that before? Yes, I was huge, yes, I hated myself, yes, I had a big-ass swimsuit for my big ass! But friends don't make friends feel bad about the worst time of their life, so if you'd please—"

"Mon', I wasn't making jokes, I swear! That's just how I–I talk; I'm an idiot you know that!" He tried to laugh it off but his self-deprecating efforts were falling flat. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to make you upset." She didn't look at him. After another beat he added, "Is this cuz of that Prom video from earlier?"

Monica rubbed her forehead, exhaling. "I dunno; I guess so. I laughed with you guys but… it wasn't a good time in my life. Looking at that tape… I could hardly believe it was me in that hideous fire engine of a dress."

"Come on, it wasn't so bad," Chandler tried.

"Huh," Monica laughed a little. "It really was."

"If you hated how you were so much how come you kept everything," Chandler inquired, "like that bathing suit?"

"I guess… I wanted to remember how bad things can get, if you let them. When I decided to lose the weight, it was so bad I had to see a therapist," admitted Monica.

Chandler's eyebrows rose. "Do you still?"

"No. No, not really. I talk to Ross, if I ever have to. I'm over it now. Food… was just always there for me. I ate when I was bored. My–therapist gave me the idea that I needed to learn to control food instead of letting it control me. She's the one who introduced me to the idea of becoming a chef, and my weight being the reason for why I'm so OCD about having things perfect and clean." She fiddled with her fingers. "You know, it's so weird now. When I eat, I can only have like, one hamburger but before… I could eat two or three in one sitting." Monica lifted a hand to her forehead. "God, why'd I tell you that; you probably think I'm a weirdo."

"What else are friends good for if not telling stuff to?" Chandler asked. "And you're weird, Monica, yeah. But everyone is, and it's not cuz of that stuff."

"Gee, thanks."

"Hey, just take a lame compliment would you?"

Monica smiled and laughed in the slightest, then. "You know," she said, "I really can't believe I went to my Prom with that guy."

"I can't either," he replied. "That guy looked like a twerp."

Monica grinned but it faded when she thought back to that night. "I remember thinking how lucky I was. I couldn't even believe a guy had been willing to go with me. Probably wanted to sleep with me."

"Hey, come on, Mon'. Any guy'd be lucky to go with you, and not just to sleep with you," he assured her, nudging her knee with his knuckles. "And I thought Prom was like, the night for girls. How come you didn't sleep with him?"

Monica stared at him, her mouth open.

"Hey, the guy was a loser, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, right." Monica sighed. "No, I didn't. Rach' and I both ditched our dates to hang out together. It was really sweet, actually," she said, looking away from him as she remembered.

"You bet it is. Sure Chump and Ro-Ro had a terrible time."

"Don't know, don't really care." Monica perked up a little, poking at his arm. "Hey, how was your Prom night?"

"Monica, that's cute, but in case you've forgotten, I went to an all boys' school? Not really a rager. We didn't even have a Prom or any—" Here Chandler pulled a face expressing his disgust. "—dances. I'm grateful for that much, at least. Otherwise, it sucked. And anyway, it's Prom. All around terrible night made so girls can feel pretty and guys can feel like… they're getting lucky but probably aren't. How is that not cruel; that's every day of my regular life."

"Oh, come on, you'll get a girl one day. No more waiting around or whatever it is you're doing," Monica said. "And I'm sure she'll be brilliant." She grinned and Chandler returned it with one of his own, glancing down.

"Yeah, I'm…" He looked back to her. "I'm sure she will be." He took in a breath. "For now, we wait. And you? You're gonna get a great guy. Not a twit like Roy."

"Ha, thanks. A girl can dream."

"I can't tell the future, but I know you will." They kept their gazes on each other for another moment, and then Chandler tore his eyes away. A quick glance at his watch told him it was verging on half past eleven. He pushed off of his thighs and got to his feet, Monica following suit.

"So… thanks for the juice," Chandler said, grabbing the carton off the table. Monica nodded, slipping her hands into the pockets of her pants. He was about to head out when Monica spoke his name. He stopped and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for, uh… making me talk. I guess I really did need someone to listen tonight."

Chandler nodded. "Sure. And, Mon'? Connecticut is my favorite state. Have I never mentioned that?" He winked with a teasing smile and shut the door of the apartment.

Monica stood in her kitchen, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Goodbye to you, too…"