𝐜𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬 | 𝐜. 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠

1.4

the only direction to go in is forward.

while briar's vision blurred her surrounding, the only thing she could focus on was far ahead. it was as if she were looking up from the bottom of a well or driving down a dark tunnel on a bright day. she couldn't think, breathe, or function. her consciousness was on autopilot.

she spent four years with daniel hunter. in the beginning, they were in love and every day was their honeymoon. he brought her cards, kissed her cheek, and drove them around until the gas ran out. they were two young adults, just having fun.

it wasn't until they graduated college and moved in together that things began to fall apart. when the sudden shock of stress, caused by careers, bills, and balance, daniel began heavily drinking. the two "end-of-the-night" shots became packs of beers and "i love you" turned into an excuse for his sharp tongue.

there were times she threatened to leave, and then there were days he attempted to make up for his wronging. after a bad argument (one that usually resulted in them sleeping in separate beds,) he retrieved her flowers. their relationship was tug-of-war, a seesaw of passion against possession.

the time was now 6:30 and the friend group that resided in new york was gathered in apartment 5. "i've tried calling everyone we went to lincoln high with," monica grumbled. "nothing!"

   "there's nothing we can do." her brother stated. "i want to find and convince briar to come to new york as much as you guys do, but be realistic; the only person she talked about being in her life is her boyfriend."

   "i'll find her!" phoebe buffay howled. "i can sense her."

   "phoebe, i don't think 'wandering spirits' can help us with this one," chandler snickered.

   their conversation was cut short by a swarm of knocks hitting the door. rachel and monica leaped across the room to answer, going face to face with the shattered version of briar wilton. she had one suitcase and a duffle bag slung over her shoulder, and she wore sweatpants and a pullover jacket. the most alarming sign, though, was her frizzy hair.

   "i'll sleep on the terrace," briar joked, sniffling and walking into her friends' arms. monica and rachel squeezed her tightly, "i feel like a dog being put up for adoption!"

   "oh my god, briar, honey..." rachel cooed.

   "we are here for whatever you need." monica swore. "i can help you with transferring stuff to a job up here, with banking— just give me whatever documents you have."

   briar lifted her head and nodded at joey, chandler, phoebe, and ross. she scooted backwards and looked at the whole while wiping the mascara smears from under her (suddenly wide) eyes. she became cheerful, erratic. "it's good to see you guys, y'know, i think i think this is the universe screaming 'go back to the purple apartment on sesame street,' right?!"

chandler and joey exchanged frightened gulps. she continued, standing up and fixing her hair. "i know, i look astonishing," she sarcastically exaggerated, "but i'm gonna freshen up really quick. does it feel like a drinking night to anyone else? twister? charades? ooh, ooh, what about uno?!"

the terrified pack of adults watched as briar backed into the restroom and shut the door. monica had only ever seen her like this once, and it was something she couldn't help briar with.

"i'll grab the glasses." chandler announced.

"drinks," ross agreed.

briar used makeup wipes and a claw clip to string her appearance together. she was a slit stomach that was being held together by zip ties. a bomb made with duct tape and glitter glue. she stared at herself and saw the woman she was five years ago, before she met danny.

"hon, are you okay?" rachel asked, tapping the door gently. "can i come in?"

briar turned off the light and swung the barrier back. "i'm okay," she reassured, sitting beside chandler on the couch. "sorry, everyone. i'm perfectly sane now. sane...and single for the first time in four years."

chandler handed her a blue glass and clinked it against his bottle of beer. "congratulations, briar wilton, you have graduated from toxic high and you're free to move on to hookup university."

"he's right!" joey nodded. "you've been sleeping with the same dude for four years! you're hot and now you're single. we should be partying."

   "he wasn't always bad. he used to be a gentleman— brought me flowers, kissed my hand..." briar traced the rim of her cup with her finger. "now he's a manipulative drunk."

   chandler relaxed into the cushions and rested his arm across the back of the couch. briar, too,  got comfortable and slid backwards against a pillow. her brown, silk hair kissed the skin of his arms as she fought the grief of what could have been.

    he barely knew her and had no reason to care for her half as much as he did. she was supposed to just be a passerby, and now, she was staying. now, she needed help— she needed friends— so his arm lowered off of the back of the couch and around her shoulders and pulled her close to his chest.

-

it was a new day and a fresh start. the flock perched in their tower of coffee, huddled around a small wooden table. until her arrival, chandler believed she'd resent him for comforting her— they cuddled until 11, just talking in the living room— but she didn't. she swung his arm around her subtly, mid-conversation. chandler's arm was briar's scarf.

"he walked me to the subway and said 'we should do this again'!" phoebe whined. "the date sucked!"

"oooh..." they winced in unison.

rachel looked around, puzzled on the issue. "what? he said 'we should do it again', that's good, right?"

"rachel, this is not lincoln high," briar denounced. "that means no sex. ever."

"it's like dating language. y'know, like 'it's not you' means 'it's you'." joey continued.

"or 'you're such a nice guy' means 'i'm gonna be dating leather-wearing alcoholics and complaining about them to you'." chandler affirmed.

briar looked up at him. "or 'you're the only woman i could ever love' means 'i'm gonna cheat on you and make you think its okay'."

"ding, ding, ding! we have a winner." he pointed his finger over her, laughing. "it's like when you're a kid, and your parents put your dog to sleep, and they tell you it went off to live on some farm."

   "that's funny that—" ross shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "no, because, uh, our parents actually did send our dog off to live on a farm. the millners' farm in connecticut! he said they had this unbelievable farm with horses, and rabbits that he could chase—"

his face dropped, realization striking him.

"chi chi!"