Chapter 203: Doctor Dear
Phoebe's apartment was also in Lower Manhattan, just a short walk from Central Perk.
It took Ethan less than ten minutes to drive there.
As they climbed the stairs, Phoebe tilted her head toward him.
"Why did you bring Monica her shoes?"
"It's nothing," Ethan replied. "I've lived with my roommate long enough to understand what people with obsessive tendencies really need."
"Oh?"
Phoebe looked intrigued.
"And what would that be?"
"Most of the time..."
"Understanding and acceptance."
Ethan smiled.
"People with obsessive-compulsive tendencies usually need those around them to have a lot of patience."
"Someone like Monica—who's obsessive and still cares about what other people think—is actually pretty rare."
He added with a chuckle,
"Though... it's kind of adorable."
Phoebe gave him a knowing look.
"Hmm."
"But I did get something in return."
Ethan spoke casually.
"She told me a few little secrets about you."
Phoebe's expression immediately became wary.
"Oh?"
"What did she tell you?"
"You'll find out in a minute."
Phoebe pouted before taking out her keys.
She unlocked the door.
The lights came on as they stepped inside.
The moment the door closed, the noise from the street vanished, leaving the apartment wrapped in peaceful silence.
Leaning against the door, Phoebe smiled at him.
"Welcome to my world."
Ethan looked around.
The lighting was warm.
A faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air, like natural essential oils.
The moment he stepped inside, the apartment felt soft...
...lived-in...
...real.
"I like it here."
He meant it.
"Of course."
Phoebe walked to the window and drew the curtains closed a little farther.
"This is my entire universe."
The apartment was a modest one-bedroom with a cozy living room that possessed a strangely artistic charm.
The furniture was an eclectic mix.
Some pieces were old.
None of them matched.
Yet together they felt wonderfully alive.
A slightly crooked floor lamp stood beside a pink-shaded table lamp tucked into a corner.
A string of tiny lights wound around the window frame.
The old wooden floor creaked softly underfoot.
A faded couch rested against the wall beneath a patchwork blanket, covered with several mismatched throw pillows.
The coffee table was scattered with books and handwritten lyric sheets.
A guitar leaned quietly against the corner.
Three flowerpots sat on the windowsill.
One plant was thriving.
One looked barely alive.
The third had very clearly given up on life.
"What used to be in this one?"
Ethan asked, pointing at the empty-looking pot.
Phoebe answered seriously.
"His name is Martin."
"He's been emotionally unstable lately."
"And this one?"
Ethan gestured toward the struggling plant.
"Can it still be saved?"
"Absolutely."
Phoebe sounded completely confident.
"It's getting better."
Ethan smiled without arguing.
The kitchen was a compact open-plan space.
Small...
But spotless.
The refrigerator was covered with sticky notes, schedules, mysterious symbols...
...and one childhood photograph.
Ethan stopped to study it.
The picture showed a little girl with messy hair and a radiant smile.
Her eyes sparkled.
"Is this you?"
"Yeah."
Phoebe walked over beside him.
"Back then..."
"...my mom hadn't committed suicide yet."
Silence settled between them.
Ethan froze for a brief moment before recovering.
He didn't ask any questions.
Instead, he simply smiled gently.
"You were adorable."
Phoebe gave a soft hum but said nothing.
The bedroom door stood half open.
"You can look later," she said.
"But no cleanliness ratings."
"Don't worry."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Phoebe stood in the middle of the living room, looking at him.
"So..."
She spoke slowly.
"It's our third date."
Ethan couldn't help smiling.
Outside, the wind stirred the curtains, making the warm light sway gently.
He suddenly realized that, compared to Monica and Rachel's apartment—or Chandler and Joey's—the original story had barely ever described Phoebe's home.
Even to him...
It felt strangely new.
Phoebe stepped closer and lightly tugged at his collar.
"So, Doctor..."
She lowered her voice.
"What exactly are you waiting for?"
Originally, Ethan had intended to follow his usual approach—
Gentle.
Patient.
Taking things one step at a time.
But Monica's words suddenly echoed in his mind.
"Phoebe's very emotional, but she's always wanted someone strong enough for her to lean on. Sometimes she likes the feeling of being guided. If you're a little more assertive... she'll actually enjoy it."
Instead of answering immediately, Ethan simply looked into her eyes.
His gaze was no longer merely gentle.
It lingered.
Steady.
Carrying a quiet confidence.
Phoebe blinked.
"Wow."
She smiled.
"What are you doing?"
"Predator mode?"
"The longer two people wait until the third date..."
Ethan said softly,
"...the more memorable some moments ought to be."
Phoebe took a quiet breath.
"Okay."
Ethan slowly stepped closer.
As their bodies met, Phoebe instinctively took a step backward.
Then another.
Until her back touched the wall.
There was nowhere left to retreat.
She lowered her eyes without saying a word.
Ethan gently took hold of her wrist and guided it lightly against the wall.
The movement wasn't forceful...
But it left no doubt about who was setting the pace.
Phoebe's breathing caught for just a moment.
She looked back up at him.
Something in her eyes changed.
The playful, carefree sparkle faded...
Replaced by a quieter, deeper emotion.
"So..."
She spoke almost in a whisper.
"Third dates are supposed to be when things get romantic."
"Is Doctor Dear... upset with me?"
Ethan leaned in a little closer.
"Maybe..."
"A little."
Phoebe smiled.
"So..."
"Is Doctor Dear going to punish me?"
Ethan considered the question.
"That depends."
"Are you going to be a good girl..."
"...or a bad girl?"
"Okay."
She blinked mischievously.
"Which one do you want?"
"Both."
Phoebe laughed softly.
"That's awfully confident."
"Aren't you the one who said you preferred your partner to be a little more assertive at times?"
Phoebe narrowed her eyes.
"...Monica."
"That blabbermouth."
Ethan didn't deny it.
Instead, he gently lifted her chin, guiding her gaze until she was looking directly into his eyes.
"So..."
His voice was calm.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Phoebe held his gaze for several long seconds.
"...No."
She answered softly.
"Keep going."
In that instant, the air between them seemed to tighten.
Ethan lowered his head and kissed her.
This time there was no hesitation, no tentative testing—only a slow, steady deepening of the kiss.
Phoebe responded without reservation.
Her arms slipped naturally around his neck, and she playfully nipped at his lower lip.
"You know..."
she murmured between breaths,
"I always thought you were too rational."
"And now?"
Ethan asked.
"Now..."
She smiled.
"You look like someone who'd carry a girl away and throw her onto the bed."
Ethan laughed.
The next moment, he swept her into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom.
Phoebe let out a surprised laugh before instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.
Stopping beside the bed, Ethan looked at her.
"So..."
"Do you want me to actually throw you onto the bed..."
"...or would you rather jump onto it yourself?"
Phoebe immediately slipped from his arms.
"I can jump."
With exaggerated enthusiasm, she flopped dramatically onto the mattress, spreading her arms and legs into a giant starfish.
Ethan leaned over her.
She looked back at him.
The playful sparkle in her eyes had changed.
Now there was something softer...
...and a hint of delighted surrender.
"You know..."
she whispered,
"I used to think confident people made you feel protected."
"They made you feel safe."
"But not necessarily comfortable."
She reached out and gently caught hold of his shirt.
"But..."
"Seeing you like this..."
"It makes me happy."
Ethan's breathing grew just a little heavier.
Those words carried more weight than any embrace could.
He lowered his head and kissed her again.
Outside, the night breeze whispered softly against the window.
Inside...
The rest of the world quietly faded away.
---
The Next Morning
Daylight had already filled the room.
A pale ribbon of morning sunlight slipped through the curtains and stretched silently across the bed.
Ethan woke first.
He immediately felt the pleasant weight resting against him.
Phoebe's arm lay across his chest, her breathing slow and even.
The room still carried the faint scent of vanilla...
...mixed with the fragrance of her hair.
Staring at the ceiling, Ethan drifted somewhere between sleep and wakefulness as memories of the previous night gradually returned.
Only now did he take a proper look around the bedroom.
The night before had been too eventful to notice much.
The bedroom was slightly larger than the living room.
Clearly, Phoebe believed the best space should be reserved for sleeping.
A double bed rested against the wall.
Above the headboard were several old concert ticket stubs and a boldly painted self-portrait.
The bedspread had an unusual pattern, though everything was impeccably clean.
Light-colored curtains swayed gently in the morning breeze.
On the bedside table rested a half-finished book, a pencil, and a small collection of smooth stones that looked like little souvenirs she'd gathered over the years.
Ethan lowered his eyes toward Phoebe.
She looked remarkably peaceful while asleep.
Nothing like the lively, unpredictable woman she became during the day.
Her long eyelashes rested quietly against her cheeks.
Her face nestled comfortably against his shoulder.
He reached up and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
"...Are you counting my eyelashes?"
Her voice was still thick with sleep.
Ethan smiled.
"I'm making sure you're real."
She didn't even open her eyes.
"Wasn't last night enough proof?"
"It only proved you were real temporarily."
Ethan answered with mock seriousness.
Phoebe gave a sleepy little hum and instinctively snuggled closer into his arms.
The gesture was so natural...
...that it made Ethan's heart skip ever so slightly.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Their gazes met.
She spoke first.
"Hi."
"So..."
"Are we entering the awkward morning-after phase now?"
Ethan shook his head.
"No."
"There's nothing awkward about this."
Phoebe raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
"Because I have a tiny problem."
Ethan looked concerned.
"What is it?"
"I'm hungry."
Ethan laughed.
"That..."
"I can definitely fix."
After everything the night before, it wasn't surprising that Phoebe had worked up quite an appetite.
Part of it came from their sleepless night.
Another reason, though, was Ethan's healing magic.
Phoebe looked healthy on the surface, but Ethan had sensed that her body had been quietly running on empty for a long time.
She was the sort of person whose emotions and spirit always raced far ahead of her physical limits.
So the previous night, he'd quietly cast a full sequence of healing spells on her.
She had drifted off briefly midway through the night...
...only to wake up feeling even more energetic than before.
Which had led to...
...another very long night.
Now that she was hungry, breakfast came first.
Since Phoebe didn't eat meat, Ethan ordered a vegetarian breakfast delivery.
Wrapped in a blanket, he quietly slipped out to collect the food from outside the apartment.
The two of them sat side by side against the headboard, sharing breakfast beneath the covers.
After that...
They simply talked.
Phoebe told him stories about her childhood.
About growing up with her grandmother.
About the first time she sang in the subway.
About how she'd always felt...
"...a little out of step with the rest of the world."
Ethan mostly listened.
Occasionally he would ask,
"And then what happened?"
"How old were you?"
"Who helped you after that?"
Little by little, the atmosphere softened.
As the conversation deepened, so did the closeness between them.
Relationships weren't built in a single moment.
Whether emotionally or physically, two people grew closer by learning about one another, communicating honestly, and gradually finding their rhythm together.
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