Ben was, in fact, a human disaster.

He sat in the back of his cab rocking back and forth, tearing his hair out, and thankfully the driver didn't ask him any probing questions. He was likely used to sad and pathetic drunks in his backseat. It came to Ben's attention that he had lost his Miller Lite at some point along the way, and was lucky he still had his wallet and his keys on him, because he would need to make a quick escape as soon as he got back to the motel.

Ben's phone wouldn't stop ringing. He didn't pick it up once, didn't even dare to check who was calling him on repeat. None of it would matter.

"Uh, you need to get that, son?" the driver asked after several long minutes of ringtone, but Ben shook his head, letting it continue to go off.

"No," he said, his hands still in his hair. "I don't."

It seemed like forever by the time they reached the Pawnee Super Suites Motel, and Ben practically tore the door open and ran up to his room. He didn't care if he was being irrational, if it was just the alcohol or the adrenaline from trying to fight Mark, if he was being incredibly dramatic and Ann was calling him now to tell him to calm the fuck down, Ben didn't care about any of that. All he knew was that he had to get out of Pawnee as fast as possible.

He ran around his motel shoving any random things of his into a backpack, not thinking clearly enough to prioritize or organize any of it. He was shoving clothing into a suitcase at random, pushing down folders and papers, ruining all his good suits, he didn't give a fuck about it. That was a problem for sober Ben.

He did take one moment to collapse to his floor and let himself cry for as long as he wanted, where he couldn't be ashamed, where he wouldn't feel the need to hide his emotion. Ben cried like a baby, completely bawled and heaved into his carpet, suddenly wishing more than anything that he wasn't drunk so that the world would stop spinning, the lights wouldn't be blurry and blinding him, any random sound wouldn't make him flinch. He was terrified of throwing up, he always had been, and just wanted it to STOP.

He wished he could crawl into bed. He wished he had someone to take care of him, anyone to really talk to that was just his friend, to tell him it would be okay and he didn't need to worry. Ann was great, but Ann was first and foremost Leslie's best friend. Chris has always been a constant, but never great at understanding, sometimes, the complexity of emotion. He would probably just suggest Ben drink a kale shake or go for a run or something, and frankly Chris's never ending positivity was the last thing he wanted right then.

Maybe he wanted Leslie. He could imagine her, with her small hands on his back, helping him up off the floor and into bed. He pictured her brushing the hair out of his face and telling him to sleep. It was stupid, it was so stupid, why did he care this much? Ben was never supposed to get this attached to anybody in the towns he visited, that was always part of the job, it was how he avoided this kind of pain and heartache. He was so, so stupid for letting himself get wrapped up in this for so long, for spending so much time with the Parks Department and becoming friends with Leslie. It was bound to never work out. Ben was meant for a life on the road, never really growing attached to anything, never settling down, never getting to love a thing, because everything he touched he just destroyed.

And goddammit, he wasn't going to mope anymore. He pushed himself up off the motel carpet and wiped his tears away on his jacket, loosening his tie a little to allow himself to breathe. He groaned at the heavy feeling in his limbs, picking up his bags and his suitcase and walking outside to throw it in the backseat of his car.

"Shit, I'm too drunk to drive," he whispered to himself, but he sat down in the driver's seat anyway, head to his steering wheel, ready to wait it out. "Why the fuck did I do this to myself?"

Ben closed his eyes, his shaking hands gripping the steering wheel as if his life depended on it, waiting to feel normal again so he could start driving out of Pawnee as soon as possible. His phone was left on the floor of his backseat, still ringing every couple minutes, and he still hadn't bothered to check. It had to be Ann chastising him for leaving, or even Chris, who had been at the dinner party and must be wondering what had come over Ben, or hell, even April to tell him to leave Pawnee quicker, that she hated him. That sounded like something she would say. Maybe it was Tom, telling him he was acting like a baby and he made a fool out of himself by challenging Mark. Hell, maybe Mark had even gotten his number somehow, and was calling just to laugh at how weak he was, to rub it in his face that he would never get to know what it's like to have Leslie as his own.

Ben didn't really have any more tears left to cry. He just sat there, shaking in the cold, the dark around him, his car not even on. His phone stopped ringing moments after, to be replaced with the sound of heels running on the pavement behind him.

Ben didn't hear it. Ben didn't even care.

Leslie had never been more thankful in her life that she hadn't had anything to drink that night. She was able to put all of her energy and effort into throwing herself into her car and towards the Pawnee Super Suites Motel, driving fast and praying desperately that she would catch Ben in time before he started to leave.

It had been a mistake, what she did, all of it was. How angry she was at Ben, the way that she yelled at him, how she pushed him away. Leslie really did care for Ben, more than she would even admit to anyone, and telling him that day to never talk to her again… it broke her heart too. She had been convinced it was the only way to make Mark truly happy, which had been her goal for years. But something about tonight made her throw caution to the wind, and for the first time she felt like throwing all of that out the window. Right now, Ben was her priority.

He was stupidly drunk when he left Andy and April's place, stumbling out the door and dropping his beer bottle on the patio outside. Leslie drove faster, imagining him in a cab, or even driving himself recklessly, all her fault. Again, all her fault, making him feel like he wasn't wanted, like he didn't belong, like he was better off anywhere but here in Pawnee. She made him think that, it was her fault.

Leslie was starting to not even recognize herself anymore.

She was beyond relieved to see Ben's car parked outside the motel, and almost oddly terrified to see him sitting inside it, his head and his hands on his steering wheel. She pulled herself from her car and ran up to pavement to his, that noise not even enough to snap him from his reverie.

God, he looked like a mess. His hair was sticking up in all directions, his tie loose, his shirt untucked and his collar popped. From what she could see of his face, it was bright red, his hands clenched and shaking violently at the wheel. She almost wondered if he was asleep, but he was vibrating at too high a speed for that to be possible. Fearing she might scare him, but needing him to get up, she rapped on his window.

Ben jumped up, and Leslie tensed at his bloodshot eyes, making it too obvious that he had been crying. He stared at her through his window, as if he didn't quite believe what he was seeing, and then smacked himself. Leslie sighed. He seriously thought he was in a dream.

She rapped again at his window, with more force this time. "Ben, please get out, please," she begged him, her voice sounding hoarse to her ears. "I really need to talk to you, I called you like, a hundred times."

He choked. "That was you?" He scrambled to his backseat, where Leslie saw a suitcase packed, making her heart hurt. Ben fished out his phone and checked his notifications, his eyes widening at the name attached to every single call.

"Please come out," she asked him again, hand pressed up against his window. "You can't leave."

"Why not?" he asked, sounding much harsher than he had a moment ago. "Why do you care? You said you never wanted to speak to me again."

"Ben—"

"I don't even know what you're doing here, Leslie."

"Come out of the car and we'll talk about it. Please."

There must have been something in her voice that time, because Ben gave a deep sigh before finally pulling himself out of his car. He had no jacket on, he had to have been freezing. He stood in front of her, and it took everything in Leslie not to touch him then. It wouldn't do her any good.

"What do you want?" he asked her. "You can't tell me you never want to speak to me again and then come out to my motel and find me."

Leslie's eyes welled up with tears. "Ben, I'm so sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean a single word of it."

"Then why say it? Why hurt me like that? For fun? You never struck me as that kind of person."

"I'm not," she begged. "I'm not, I… it was a huge mistake, and I regretted every word as soon as I said it. I was so stupid, Ben, and I hate that I hurt you."

He lifted his hands to his brow, a signature Ben Wyatt quirk he did when stressed out, Leslie noticed. "The damage is already done," he whispered, and Leslie's entire body felt the ache of his words. "You can't erase the hurt. Face it, Leslie, I'm better off leaving Pawnee where I can't… where I can't ruin everything anymore. You don't have to see my face again and you can go back to living how you were before and be happy. Once I'm sobered up I'm getting out of here."

Leslie didn't know what compelled her to do it. Not even thinking about the consequences, she rushed forward and took both of Ben's hands in hers, holding onto them as if her life depended on it. "I don't want you to leave Pawnee, Ben," she said, loud and clear, not a hint of regret or uncertainty in her words. It forced Ben to look her in the eyes. "I'm not saying this to you because I feel bad, or because I'm sorry, even though I do feel bad, and I am sorry. I say that because all I want, right here and for the future, for you to stay in Pawnee."

He hesitated, but didn't let go of her hands, didn't break eye contact. "But you said…"

"I don't care what I said before, all of that was bullshit that came from a side of me I don't even recognize. But what I'm saying now, I mean with everything in me. I want you to stay. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I don't care, I want you in my life. I'm just… not ready to let you go, Ben. I don't think our story is over yet."

Those were the words that broke him, and his face twisted up, collapsing down to the pavement. It took all of Leslie's strength to lift him, wrapping her arms around him, and she hoped to god he wasn't blackout enough to forget this entire conversation come morning.

His feet stumbled, and he gagged like he was going to throw up.

"Oh god, Ben, stay with me, okay? I'm going to get you inside." She pulled his arms around her, tugging with all her strength to push him through the door, into his motel room, where he was still stirring, so out of it that she hardly recognized him. He fell onto his bed, and Leslie took care of him, pulling his shoes off and struggling to get his tie out from around his neck. He stared up at her, as if amazed, and all Leslie could do was stare back. She didn't think anyone had ever looked at her like that before.

She cupped Ben's face in her hands. "Stay with me, Ben, okay? That's all I ask. Stay with me. Don't go."

"Leslie…" he whispered, and the way he said her name made her heart burst, just soft, delicate, but with feeling and a tiny smile to accompany it, like her name was the sweetest word he had ever uttered. "Am not going anywhere."

She could nearly cry with relief, and refrained from throwing her arms around him. "That's all I wanted, that's all I could ask for."

Again, she prayed he would remember this in the morning.

Ben grabbed her wrist, his thumb rubbing along her skin. He was still looking at her in that same way, like she was the only person in the whole world that mattered. "Don't go," he said, repeating her. "Don't go."

Leslie froze, unsure of what exactly to say to that. Was he just repeating her in a drunken stupor, or did he really want her to stay? Did he mean in his life in general, or in his motel, tonight? Too many things were happening, and it was hard for her to think, and she waited, as if he would be able to give her any clarification at all in his state.

But in the time it took Leslie to figure out what to do, Ben had already fallen asleep. She sighed, tugged his blanket over him, and took a moment to watch him. He looked peaceful in his sleep. The stress faded away, leaving him looking soft, like he was only human, someone Leslie didn't need to be so hard on. He felt just as deeply as any of the rest of them did.

She left a note for him on his nightstand before she left to drive herself home, just in case.

'Stay with me, Wyatt, and I'll stay, too. Let's both keep our promises.'