TARA MADE IT TO THE SUBWAY station quicker than she had ever moved before, cruising herself around the crowds. She needed to get away. She needed to go to the mountains and live in a cave. And she probably would have if the mountains didn't painfully remind her of Peter.

Peter. His name cut her like a knife when she thought as she rushed down the stairs to the subway. Selfish, inconsiderate, pesudo-intelligent, absolutely brilliant, wonderful, lovely Peter.

She was feeling a lot. She didn't know what to feel. She was wanted to jump onto the subway tracks. She-

Her ankle rolled to the side as she stepped off the last step. She steadied herself on the wall next to her as she mumbled curses because of course this happens.

Tara looked down at her feet, seeing the stump that used to be a heel. She should've listened to Rachel about the cheap making of these shoes. Or maybe they weren't cheap and God was just laughing at her extra hard today.

With a groan, Tara removed her right (still a heel) heel and bashed the heel over a railing next to her. She had seen this trick in a movie once and prayed it actually worked. Luckily after few hits the heel fell off. It was still uneven, but she could now actually somewhat walk, even if the walk more strongly resembled a wobble.

After hopping the turnstile since she had not brought her subway card and currently needed every single cent possible, she made it onto the subway.

The subway ride was short. For once in her life, she was glad that people in her car were forming some wannabe-band. If the ride was silent and she was left with just her thoughts, it very well might've been her last subway ride ever.

She arrived at her stop and breathed a sigh of relief. Her apartment complex had a subway stop very close to it, so her walk of shame didn't have to last very much longer. The thoughts in her head were slowly transitioning back to what had just happened, and desperately tried to think of anything else.

Her apartment.

The apartment building was nice, especially for what she paid for it. She had moved in about five years ago, right next to these two girls. Monica had introduced herself with a plate of cookies and Phoebe by her side, smiling. They became fast friends and even introduced Tara to Monica's brother, Ross, and Ross' best friend, Chandler.

Chandler lived across from Monica and (at the time) Phoebe. He was sarcastic and begrudgingly funny, an annoying kind of charm to him. The two became fast friends. He kept her grounded and she tried her best to keep him from embarrassment.

When Joey moved in with Chandler, he had integrated into the group seamlessly. He was kind, though most of his actions were not at all thought through. She was also endlessly grateful that Joey gave Chandler much more prominent things to get worked up over other than whatever was happening in her life.

And finally Rachel, who had only entered their collective lives three years ago but was an absolute wonder. She took over the spot as Monica's roommate after Phoebe moved out and turned out to be a much quieter neighbor. She didn't practice her guitar until 3 AM on random nights.

As Tara pushed her way inside her building, she tried to force herself to breathe more normally. To dry her eyes. She was a big girl, she could wait until she was in her apartment to break down crying. She prayed that none of her friends would be leaving or entering their apartments.

When she arrived at her floor, the other two doors on it were quiet. She said a quiet thanks and began reaching for her keys as she approached her door.

Huh.

They weren't in her pocket.

Tara's hand went into her other pocket. Nothing. She checked the shallow pockets in her pants. Nothing.

In a snap her purse was open and she was rifling though it. Chapstick, lipgloss, compact, wallet, receipt from last week's shopping spree that her bank account was suddenly regretting, one old condom, a mint.

"No, no, no," she muttered quickly, rechecking her pockets. Left pocket, right pocket, pant pockets, purse. She repeated this cycle a few times. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

She slammed on her door out of frustration. "Crap!" She tried to keep her voice quiet enough that no one would come out to check on her. In a moment of total desperation, Tara dumped her purse on the floor and began sifting through the contents that way.

Of course. Where had she even left her keys? Tara was pretty sure she almost compulsively checked to make sure she had them, terrified of this exact scenario playing out-

Oh.

"Shit," she whispered in realization, pushing her back against her door.

She had thrown them on Peter's counter. When she first walked in. Like always.

Her head tipped back against the door for a moment and her eyes squeezed themselves shut tightly. There must be some kind of award, she thought, for someone's life to go to hell this fast. For a day to be this unbelievably awful. Is this what rock bottom felt like? Sitting on the floor outside of your apartment with your purses contents spewed across the floor?

"Tara?" Chandler Bing's voice dragged her out of her self-loathing pity session. He must have opened his door while she was thinking about how unbelievably fast her life has gone down hill.

She winced, imagining how pathetic she must look. Tara forced her eyes open and she looked up at him.

Chandler stood halfway out his doorway, a smirk clear on his face. She knew that face; it was his 'I'm thinking of something really funny to say, give me a second' face. Any other day she would've tried to get something in before he could figure out what he wanted to say, but she truly didn't have it in her.

Chandler had clearly only just woken up, which she supposed was normal since it was only eight on a Saturday. He wore red plaid pajama pants with a white undershirt. If she remembered correctly, she had gifted him the pajama pants last year for Christmas. His hair was also ruffled, noticeably bed head.

"You holding a garage sale out here?" He asked finally, his eyes scanning her belongings on the ground. He bent down and picked up the condom that had somehow flown away from her in her frantic searching. "Ohh, Peter know you're selling these?"

Hearing his name was like a stab to the chest, and all she needed to completely lose it. Her eyes welled up with tears and she felt her face go red. Immediately, she tried to wipe the tears away before they fell.

"No, no he doesn't and he probably doesn't even care because I bet Maxine always has a condom on her that's not expired. And I bet Maxine doesn't get dropped by her publisher after months of working with them and goddamn years of working on her book and putting a whole piece of her soul into it," Tara babbled, her voice wavering embarrassingly as she felt Chandler's eyes lock down on her.

"And Maxine probably wears, like, reinforced heels so they can never snap off and turn into ugly, ugly flats that she has to wobble home in," Tara took off one of her shoes and held it up as an example briefly, furthering her point.

She gestured vaguely at the door she leaned against as she continued. "Maxine... Maxine... she never leaves her keys at boyfriend's apartment after finding out he's been sleeping with co-worker."

"Tara," Chandler said, this time his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it before. Like he was soothing a stray animal. "Pet- He was sleeping with someone else? And you lost the book deal?"

Tara stared at him for a moment. Slowly, she nodded before burying her face in her hands.

"Hey, hey," he said, his voice suddenly closer. A hand picked up her head before grabbing her hand and pulling her upright. Chandler placed a hand on her shoulder.

They both knew he wasn't good with these moments usually, but something came over him in that moment. Chandler himself had recently been cheated on and Tara had been there for him, dragging him out with her and their other friends in the weeks after Janice. She thought that that experience somehow better equipped him for dealing with her mess of a self now.

"I have your spare key in my apartment, remember? You gave me and Joey an extra one?" Chandler said, his voice still soft.

That was right. She breathed deeply for the first time all day, her most current problem having an easy solution.

"I would've remembered that, if it wasn't for all the life falling apart stuff," she mumbled, her voice strained slightly as she told the joke.

He did her the favor smiling slightly before pulling her into the most unexpected hug of her life. Tara wasn't exactly a touchy person, but something about this was different.

Her face fit right in the crook of his neck as his arms squeezed around her. Tears welled up again, and this time Tara allowed them to fall. Her body shook slightly against his as she began to mourn the loss of what she had come to know as almost her entire life.

They stood that way for a long time. Or maybe it wasn't that long at all, but it was long enough that Tara began to feel nothing but exhausted. Her bones themselves seemed to have grown heavy.

Faintly, she heard Monica's door open. "Woah, are you guys-" Monica started. She cut herself off, probably taking in what Tara was sure was a rare sight for her. Very rarely did Tara let herself get like this. Teary eyed and snot faced, that is. "Oh, sweetie."

Chandler released his hold on her slowly, almost like he himself didn't want to. Like he was afraid she would melt without his support. She was fine, though, and accepted Monica's swooping hug.

"Come on, come inside," Monica insisted. She rubbed Tara's arm comfortingly. It amazed her how she didn't even know what was wrong Tara, yet Monica was still immediately leaping in to help.

"No, I..." Tara's voice was weak and shaky. She took a breath and cleared her throat before continuing, ignoring the silent looks being exchanged between Monica and Chandler and the little furrow forming between Monica's eyebrows. "I really just need to lay down."

Monica rolled her eyes, like the notion was entirely ridiculous. "You can lay down in my apartment." She let the idea float out for a moment. When she clearly sensed that Tara was still set on heading back to her own apartment, she added; "I'll make French toast."

Tara sniffed. "Yeah, okay."

Chandler laughed softly next to her as Monica lead her into the neighboring apartment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chandler bend down and start assembling all her strewn about stuff back into her purse.

———

Monica and Rachel's apartment might be more familiar to her than her own. She's spent countless nights on their couch, yelling the answer at game show contestants. Long days spent gathered around the kitchen table before everyone left for work. Late nights turned into early mornings on their terrace. It was a second home.

In that moment, however, Tara felt like she was on an alien space ship. The second she sat on the couch her hearing and vision went crazy again. All she could hear were her own thoughts echoing back at her and small snippets of the other's conversation.

She faintly acknowledged the fact that Joey, Rachel, and Ross have appeared in past few minutes as well.

"Is she alright? I've never seen..."

"I don't know, I just found her in the hallway..."

"Did something happen with..."

"Him and her book..."

"...absolutely horrible..."

Tara blinked and suddenly Rachel was next to her. "Oh honey," her friend muttered, her eyes filling with a sympathy that made Tara feel sick. "I am so, so sorry."

"Yeah, well, you didn't sleep with someone else," Tara said humorlessly.

Rachel did not provide the same charity of smiling that Chandler had earlier. Instead she just leaned her head on Tara's shoulder.

"You know," Joey started, walking in front of her. "Maybe this is a good thing!"

"Joey, your Christmas gift to me can be thinking before you speak," Chandler's tired voice answered from the kitchen.

"No, I'm serious!" Joey crouched down to Tara's level since she was sitting. "So your publisher dropped you. Now you can find someone who really want your book."

"And you'll find a new publisher," Monica piped up from the stove. "It's a good book!"

Joey nodded, now encouraged. "And yeah, being cheated on sucks. I think." Rachel swatted his arm for that comment, but he continued. "But at least you found out this way instead of dragging it out for months and months feeling your relationship crumble-"

Tara looked at him with slightly horrified eyes at the possible future he was describing as Ross cut him off with a stern; "Joe."

Tara was about to find some response, maybe a thanks to her friend for rallying beside her or some witty comment that would hopefully make their pitying gazes lessen, when the door opened and Phoebe hurried in.

"Oh, I came as quick as I could!" She cried, placing her bag down and scanning the room. The blonde paused, analyzing the friends. "Why were we all called?"

Tara watched the other five pairs of eyes land on her, like they were afraid saying it out loud would cause her to explode. Clearly sensing no one else would answer, Tara took a breath and said, "My publisher dropped me-"

"Oh no!"

"-And Peter has been cheating on me for months."

"Oh thank God," Phoebe placed her bag on Monica's counter as the rest of the groups confused stared fell on her.

"Pheebs!" Monica exclaimed, whipping around the spatula she held. Phoebe stared back, her face blank and confused.

"What? We've all talked about this before!" Phoebe insisted, making her way over to Tara and rubbing her arm comfortingly. Tara was starting to feel entirely claustrophobic and like she was missing some really big context clue. "Peter was a jerk."

Tara stood up suddenly, pushing away from Phoebe and knocking Rachel's head off her shoulder. Her eyes darted around to each of her friends faces, all of whom had found sudden interest in the floor and ceiling around them.

"What?" Tara flailed her arms out slightly to emphasize the point. The times she had brought Peter around the group had seemed to go well. Everyone was as they normally were, including him in the conversation and joking. "You all didn't like Peter?!"

If she was honest, Peter never particularly liked her friends, but she didn't add that comment. He always said he found to be 'a little much.' She guessed, on some level, she always knew there was a disconnect there. The fact that he friends had felt that way too, though, made her stomach churn again.

"We didn't not not like him," Ross offered, breaking the awkward silence.

"Tara, come on. The guy wore cashmere and made it ev-ery-one's problem," Chandler argued. He crossed the room over to where Tara stood, hovering his hand over her arm like he was asking for permission to touch her. She was grateful, since everyone else had been rubbing her arm or laying their heads on her constantly. She nodded briefly as he squeezed her shoulder a little. "But that's not what we should focus on right now."

"Yeah," Rachel agreed, her face still grossly sympathetic. All her friends were looking at her with way too much pity, Tara noticed. It made her want to rip at her own skin. "Honey, why don't we just cool down, have some breakfast, and go the coffee shop?"

Tara considered this. She'd already been to the coffee shop that morning and she'd eaten a muffin. In fact, she was pretty sure if she tried to eat it would just get thrown up.

However, she was pretty sure eating would get her friends to stop looking at her like that. And, Jesus, she really hated the way they were all looking at her like she was a three legged puppy.

Maybe that could be her next book. One that would actually get her published. Memoir of the Personification of Pity.

Chandler bumped her with his arm, bringing Tara back into the moment. He leaned closer to her ear and muttered, "I think if you don't go and sit down at the table, Monica's forehead vein might actually explode."

Tara almost smiled slightly at his joke. She exhaled and rolled out her shoulders for a moment before saying, "Yeah. Alright."