theater boy | chandler bing

01 | the one with chandler's part-time job

Chandler looked up then, the ends of his lips twitching into what he hoped was a convincing smile. "The guy down at the ticket booth told me I'm taking someone else's shift for the night down at cinema four."

Mark gave him a curious look before he patted him on the back and shuffled out of sight once more, probably to check on the cinema down the hall. Chandler didn't need to ask what the strange gesture was for, even when he was already making his way to the last cinema.

He knew damn well what it meant.

Crammed at the very corner of the building, the last cinema was quite notorious around the streets for flourishing the most epic of breakdowns. For whatever stupid tradition, the Cinemart only ever showed cliche romance movies in cinema four. The blockbusters and comedies were always crammed between the other three since cinema four became a breeding ground for hopeless romantics and their ridiculous landfill-worth of tissues. 

Chandler could hear all the sniffling from where he stood across the doorway, making him run an aggravated hand through his hair. Momentarily preparing himself, he pushed the doors to the theater open with his shoulder.

It didn't take long for him to be drowned into the hysterics of blubbering teenagers. The credits were nearly over, Whitney Houston's voice muffled by the buzz of conversation as everyone slowly piled out towards the exit.

When he was finally alone, Chandler's eyes trailed the streams of tissue strewn along the aisle and the handfuls of popcorn crushed between the folded seats. Sighing, he mumbled an incoherent string of curses and folded his sleeves up before snatching a broom from the supply closet at the back.

He had barely made his way to the front row when he heard the rustle of movement. Startled, his head shot up almost immediately at the sound. After stealing a few paranoid glances over his shoulder, Chandler took a deep breath as he quickly scanned the room.

He had nearly convinced himself that he must've misheard it for something else until he heard a small "excuse me" from behind him. Then he screamed.

He turned on his heels, his hands swiveling his broom blindingly until his gaze locked with a pair of brown eyes staring at him over the seats, a raised eyebrow directed at him and his short hissy fit.

"Shit," Chandler seethed before quickly lowering the cleaning equipment. The person merely blinked back at him from where she sat, almost as if she hadn't just given him near cardiac arrest. After a while, he huffed, "You scared me."

The woman straightened her posture under Chandler's heavy gaze. "Yeah, I kind of gathered as much from all the girlish screeching," she said.

Chandler's mouth went dry like he had suddenly run out of words to say, which was unusual because Chandler Bing never ran out of things to say, especially when a complete stranger was taking a hit on him. Instead, Chandler shook it off, stood straighter and cleared his throat as a lousy attempt at authority.

He began, "Listen, this cinema's closed for a little cleaning. You know, in case that diaper on the seat beside you didn't make it obvious enough. The movie's been over for about ten minutes now and we don't really tolerate loitering around here, so if you would-"

Chandler didn't even get to finish because the woman had suddenly pushed herself off her seat and stepped out into the aisle, her arms stretched over her head. When her arms fell back to her sides, she yawned, barely repressing the sound.

"Don't pull your briefs into a knot, Lloyd Christmas," she said, eyeing the look Chandler was giving her. "I must've just dozed off in the middle of the movie."

His grip on the broom tightening, Chandler began counting to ten in his head. "Well, you're obviously awake now, Sleeping Beauty," he pointed out with a smile he hoped he could pass off as respectful despite the mocking tone that went with it. "Do you want me to kiss you goodbye before you leave?"