3. Hold Me Now
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"And after that, you two started this affair." Mr. Maellard stated.
Mordecai made unsure noises, before Benson spoke up and said, "Not exactly, sir, we sort of officiate the... The relationship at a specific point..."
"So hurry up and get to it! I'm a busy man! People to fire, intruders to arrest, all of that business."
Benson threw a worried look towards Mordecai, but silently urged Mordecai to continue, as he had already dug the hole for the both of pretty deep.
"I guess we should skip ahead to Thanksgiving of the next year-"
Mordecai was in the kitchen with Pops, decorating the table, when Benson came in and observed the room.
"Wow. This place actually looks presentable! Good job guys."
"You're most welcome, Benson." Pops said, thankful. "It was Mordecai's idea to use the pumpkin candles."
"Was it?" Benson asked, looking over at Mordecai.
Mordecai coyly smiled. "Don't act so surprised, I'm not totally useless."
"Not totally at least," Benson smiled back at him. He couldn't help but grin at the atrocious green frog sweater the blue jay had agreed to wear, for Pops sake.
Though he was sure he didn't look any better in his yellow cat sweater, either.
The two of them just stood there, smiling at each other in those ugly as sin sweaters, before Pops coughed loudly.
"I'm going to see if Skips needs help in the garage," Pops announced, and left the kitchen swiftly.
They watched the lollipop gentleman retreat, and when he was finally gone Benson looked down, feeling guilty.
"We shouldn't do that," Benson told Mordecai. "Pops-"
"'Pops will catch on then Maellard will catch on'... You're so paranoid sometimes."
"Apparently, not paranoid enough," Benson said, grimly.
"It was an accident! I forget to lock the door one time and Pops just... barged in! Like-"
"Bluebird," Maellard said stiffly. "If you intend to finish this story as a free man you will refrain from finishing that thought."
"Okay, okay, sorry."
"I'm just looking out for the both of us," Benson said, shrugging his shoulders. He got close to Mordecai's face and stared at his lips, as if they were the ones that needed to be more cautious around Pops. "We can't do any romantic nights out when we're homeless."
Mordecai firmly held Benson's arms (covered in the itchy yellow woolen sleeves) by his side, pushed him against the counter next to the fridge and began necking him; the gumball machine made no effort to push Mordecai away. It was an intoxicating feeling, Mordecai always thought; Benson trusting him.
"We're not going to be homeless," Mordecai kissed Benson in the spots he knew drove him crazy. "We'll just start prostituting ourselves."
"You're not funny," Benson chuckled lightly. He bent his neck so Mordecai could get a better angle. Mordecai hummed and Benson held onto Mordecai's hips.
Mordecai laughed into Benson's neck, "Yes I am."
"You're like a walking migraine, did you know that?"
"Oh~!" Mordecai and Benson heard Pops exclaim, and they hopped away from each other so fast Mordecai was literally on the other side of the kitchen. "Mordecai you have a visitor~!"
They shared a nervous laugh, and Mordecai swallowed a breath.
"I'm going to-"
"Yeah."
"If that's alright?"
Benson waved Mordecai off and played with the hem of his ugly yellow sweater. "Go on. We can continue this later." Benson smiled.
Mordecai smiled back, went through the revolving door and across the living room.
Pops held the front door open, and Mordecai stopped in his tracks when he saw his visitor.
A blue jay, the spitting image of a future Mordecai in his mid-forties, with black horn rimmed glasses. He had a dark blue scarf on, while wearing a dark green blazer with turquoise elbow patches. He stood with his feet together.
He fidgeted while he adjusted his glasses; he wanted a clearer look as he studied him with perplexed, but overall pitying, eyes.
Mordecai felt as if he had been bitch slapped.
"Dad?"
Malachi looked his son up and down. He asked, unraveling his scarf, "Work uniform?"
"It's a family reunion!" Pops clapped his hands together giddily.
Mordecai took his father's scarf, but he refused to let Mordecai take his blazer. Malachi came into the house looked around. Mordecai could see his father's mind checking of the good and the bad, and he hoped Benson wouldn't get curious and come out to see who the visitor was.
"Welcome to my father's park, Mr. Cornfield!"
"Your father?" Malachi said curiously. "You're Pops Maellard?" Pops nodded enthusiastically. Malachi smiled at Pops, and shot Mordecai one of his looks. Mordecai's stomach lurched. "I guess every father has his shame."
Mordecai looked at Pops in horror, hoping he didn't get what his dad was saying.
Pops didn't catch on, thankfully.
Maellard's jaw noticeably clenched. Mordecai awkwardly sucked on his teeth.
"My dad..."
"Just... Get to it, Bluebird."
"Alright then! I shall leave you two for some father-son time. But don't take too long." Pops walked off, happy as always. "We're making turkey art!"
Into the kitchen Pops went, and Mordecai could hear him excitedly tell Benson "It's Mordecai's father~! Good show~!"
Mordecai did not agree. It was anything but a good show.
Malachi smirked at Mordecai. "Aren't you going to give me a tour?"
"Sure. Up these stairs," Mordecai said.
"You don't..." Benson said, voice empathetic and soft. "You don't need to tell him this part."
Mordecai shook his head, "Might as well."
"This," Malachi stood in the center of Mordecai and Rigby's room. He gestured all around. "This is where you sleep?" His eyes flickered to a group picture the gang had taken days ago. It was placed on Mordecai's nightstand.
Mordecai silently prayed he didn't dwell on the picture too much.
"It's a perfectly fine room, Dad." Mordecai said, staring at his feet.
"My son. The grounds keeper." Malachi said with fake cheer. "They say to me, 'Malachi? Wasn't your son blowing that horn about being a great artist one day?' and I'll tell them, 'Oh no, no, no! Mordecai's not an artist. He's a grounds keeper!'"
"I still make art, Dad."
"'But Malachi? Didn't Mordecai beg you to send him to an arts college? Even though he was a shoe in for MIT?' 'Yes,' I'll respond. 'But Mordecai was so talented in picking up dog crap, he just couldn't stay away!'"
Mordecai said, simply, "This is a respectable line of work, Dad."
"Respectable for who? Respectable for that Rigby kid, maybe, but not for you." Malachi suddenly softened. "Not for my son."
"Any work Rigby does is good enough for me," Mordecai said.
Malachi stared at Mordecai as if he were crazy. "What did I do?"
"Don't talk about me like I'm some bum," Mordecai said, running his hands through his hair.
"What did I do to turn you into..." Malachi gestured to Mordecai's sweater. "This! Just look at you! I didn't want this for you at all!"
"Has it ever even occurred to you that I like it here?" Mordecai snapped. "Or that I'm happy?"
"Impossible."
"Why is it so hard for you to believe? I'm not some doctor or whatever, yeah, but. I've got friends here and Benson..." Mordecai stopped himself when Malachi looked up at Benson's name. "I'm happy here."
Malachi took a deep breath and walked towards Mordecai. He held Mordecai's shoulders.
"Listen. I managed to pull some strings at the company and get you some interviews with the higher ups. If I promise to pay for anything you need this month, will you go?"
Mordecai pushed his father's hands off his shoulders, "You didn't hear a damn thing I said!"
"Watch your language," Malachi warned. "I didn't have to do this, you know."
Mordecai released a breath, feeling helpless and small. "Is that the only reason you came here? To tell me my life sucks and guilt trip me into getting another job?"
"Don't be so dramatic," Malachi rolled his eyes. He went over to Mordecai's nightstand and picked up the group picture. His eyes lingered on it, trying to find something he knew was there.
Mordecai shifted uncomfortably. Malachi seemed frozen forever in that position, until finally he set the picture down.
Malachi rubbed his temples. "The gumball machine... How old is he?"
"Benson's thirty-three," answered Mordecai.
"And how is he? As a boss, I mean?"
Laughing bitterly Mordecai replied, "Horrible. Sometimes, we plan on smothering him in his sleep."
"You're not funny," Malachi said, glaring.
Neither man would say anything to start the conversation up again. Mordecai wondered if the picture had given them away, but it couldn't have. There were six of them in that picture. But he was next to Benson, with his arm around his neck.
"Is Benson... and the others... Worth decades of wondering if you could've had something better?" Malachi questioned.
Mordecai immediately became suspicious of his father's wording; he answered as vaguely as possible.
"There are people here, in the house, at this park, who are worth ten million of those snotty jobs you have lined up for me at that white collar hellhole."
Malachi laughed at the floor, as if Mordecai was this foolish little kid. Of course Mordecai would say something so naive. Of course he'd be happy settling for this.
"Your mother would be... So proud."
That was the moment Mordecai reverted back to that angry teenager, that kid who simply didn't give a shit anymore because the only person who could help him in these fights with his dad was dead and buried.
"My mother," Mordecai spat out, "Was a goddamn saint. And if she saw me today she'd applaud the fact I didn't sell my soul for the privilege of putting my name on a shitty parking spot. She'd love the guys. She'd love..." Mordecai cleared his mind of the sad realization Benson would never meet her. The only person Mordecai had to offer up was his father. "She'd love how happy I am."
Malachi threw up his hands. "Alright! I get the picture. I offer some fatherly advice, and I'm the bad guy." He wiped a smudge off his glasses and pushed them back on. "I'll be going now. But when you find yourself in this same room, thirty some years from now, don't you dare say your old man didn't give you fair warning."
"I think you should go," Mordecai said. His hands threatened to ball up into fists. "I think you should go right now."
Malachi stood in front of the door, ready to open it, when he turned to Mordecai.
"Really though? All of this ruckus just for a crummy park job?"
Mordecai knew he couldn't live with himself if he let his anger get the best of him and beat the shit out of his dad right then in there. The adrenaline made Mordecai run up to the door and push it open.
Benson was standing there, surprised at the sudden action.
"I... I'm sorry," Benson said, looking at Malachi for the first time. It was scary how much Mordecai looked like him. "I'm Benson, Mr. Cornfield. I was just... I was just up here..."
"You're not worth a day in my son's life. Let alone decades," Malachi said to Benson, disgustedly, then walked roughly past him and down the stairs.
"E-excuse me?"
Mordecai screamed after his father, not caring if the entire house heard him, "You never come here again! You fucking understand?"
The front door slammed. Benson stared at it like it was something he had never seen before.
"I... I'm having trouble remembering what happened after that." Mordecai admitted.
Benson looked down at his wringing hands. "You never told me he said that."
"Continue with it, Bluebird." Maellard demanded, though he was less forceful, and he refused to meet Mordecai's eyes.
"Alright," Mordecai sighed.
"That bastard!" Mordecai held his head in his hands as he angrily paced around Benson's apartment. "How could he say all of that shit to me? To you?"
"You said you and him became different people after your mom died," Benson said, trying to calm Mordecai down.
"Am I a failure?" Mordecai asked Benson, point blank.
It broke Benson's heart that Mordecai had to ask. "Mordecai. You're not a failure."
"I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to be painting murals, writing novels... Interviewing sculptors..." Mordecai laughed at himself. He felt hollow. "I should have been crunching numbers at a bank somewhere."
"You hate math," Benson pointed out.
"It's not about what you hate, it's about what puts money in your pocket," Mordecai said.
"Is that something he told you?"
"Doesn't make it any less true."
Benson nodded. "So, you agree with your dad then? About you not living the life you're supposed to be living?"
Mordecai closed his eyes and stopped pacing.
"I don't know, Ben. Maybe? I never grew up thinking I'd be working at a park all my life."
"But you're happy here." Benson signaled for Mordecai to sit down next to him. "... I'm happy with you here."
Mordecai sighed, "I'm happy knowing I make you happy. But what about five years from know? Or ten? You don't build a career on 'being happy'. That's how you end up homeless."
Benson nodded again. "Not to sound rude, but your dad comes off as an ass."
Mordecai sank into Benson's couch.
"He's a rational ass."
"Okay. I'm going to need you to shut up," Benson said, sinking into his couch as well. "You're pacing around here, calling yourself a failure all because your dad, some... Professor of Bullshitology tells you so. That's not you, Mordecai."
"He's a professor at one of the best universities in the west coast," Mordecai said. "He'd know if I was a failure or not."
"I'm your boss. As well as your boyfriend. And I say you're not a failure."
"That's really nice of you to say but... Wait!" Mordecai's eyebrows went to high heaven. "Did you just... Did you just claim me?"
Benson smiled, albeit apprehensively.
"Yes I did. And I don't date failures. Or guys who think they're failures."
They never referred to themselves as boyfriends. There was this one time, when they were out and Mordecai saw an old friend from art school and the horrible moment happened when his friend just waited for Mordecai to formula introduce him to Benson.
He couldn't say Benson was just his boss. How suspicious does that sound? And he couldn't tell the truth. He could have reacted negatively. Thankfully Benson thought on his toes and said he was a potential buyer, interested in some portraits Mordecai had painted.
The label was... It was nice, Mordecai supposed. They had been together for a year. Mordecai knew they'd have to use the term "boyfriend" eventually.
Mordecai went back to the problem at hand. "I don't think I'm a failure per say... I just think my dad's right in saying this wasn't my dream. What did you want to be when you were a kid?"
"Seriously?" Benson's tongue stuck out of his mouth as he thought about it. "A sniper."
"Whoa. Why?"
"So I could hurt anyone I wanted and get away with it."
Mordecai wasn't sure how to respond to Benson's serious expression, but then Benson began to laugh, "I wanted to be a rock star, Mordecai! You know that."
"Right. So doesn't it piss you off that you practiced on those drums day and night and never got to make your childhood dream come true?"
"I get to play drums whenever I want, and I'm living on my own terms," Benson said proudly. "My life isn't perfect but it's pretty good. And trust me, my childhood dream came true."
"What do you mean?"
Benson said, flatly, "My dad lying in an alley somewhere, choking on his own vomit. Sweet sixteen, indeed."
Mordecai's eyes widened. Benson smiled a small, broken smile and let his eyes fall on a sleeping Oren.
It had occurred to Mordecai that he wasn't the only one in this relationship that had issues with their father.
"I guess everyone has their deal... I just... I still want to please him, y'know? 'Cause deep down I know he's right."
Mordecai started to watch Oren too. He was still pretty cold to him, but Mordecai was sure the animal would become friendlier.
"Or maybe you know your dad's wrong and it scares you."
"I'm not so sure about that."
He made eye contact with Mordecai. "I've seen some of your drawings. Your dad is wrong, Mordecai."
Mordecai got that wonderful floating feeling. That feeling he always got when Benson kissed him, or gave him knowing looks during staff meetings.
Benson pulled back his yellow wool sleeve and looked at his watch. "It's late. Are you staying or going?"
"Staying. I told Rigby I'd be downtown."
"Doing what?" Benson asked.
"Just checking out the scene... Rigby doesn't ask questions."
Of course, Mordecai was actually getting around to that journalist job. They had seen some of his watercolors and wanted to have a proper interview. But he couldn't tell Benson that. It felt bad lying to Benson so soon in the relationship... Their year long relationship... Mordecai felt his insides jump.
Suddenly, Benson warmly embraced Mordecai. It was nice, don't misunderstand, but it threw him for a loop.
Mordecai never thought Benson could be so... Soft.
"Thank you," Benson said in Mordecai's ear.
In Benson's ear, Mordecai asked, "What did I do?"
"You didn't freak out. When I said that thing about my dad and the... Alley vomit."
They laughed at how ridiculous that sounded (in retrospect that was pretty fucked up) and Mordecai delivered a quick peck to Benson's lips.
"Well, thanks for not thinking I'm a failure. And calling my dad an ass. That was pretty funny."
Benson lightly kissed him back.
"The simplest things amuse you," said Benson.
"I'm a very simple person."
Mordecai felt around for Benson's hands.
"I know," Benson slyly smiled.
Mordecai kissed Benson, and began to deepen it. Benson seemed initially surprised, but went along with the kiss anyway. They broke the connection only to dive right back in, stronger than ever. Desiring a little more, they made their tongues shyly dance around each other's.
It was around that time Mordecai's hands started to wander, which as Mordecai learned before, was dangerous for his health.
Benson had made it very, painfully clear he wasn't totally comfortable with the idea of them having sex. And Mordecai accepted that (reluctantly) and got through the year with cold showers and insane amounts of baby lotion and Kleenex.
Anything above the dispenser was fine, and it was usually enough to get him through the night. Though sometimes he'd have to resort to thinking of Muscle Man before things spiraled out of control.
Benson moaned inside of Mordecai's mouth, and when Mordecai grinded down on him Benson moaned louder and his small body shuddered.
Mordecai wasn't sure if it was just forgetfulness on Benson's part (any minute he'd yell at Mordecai to stop and he wasn't ready for that and blah, blah, blah, blah) or if Benson was feeling especially frisky today. Either way, Mordecai wasn't complaining.
Then Mordecai had gotten bold and let his fingers experimentally run up and down Benson's thigh. The older man quickly grabbed Mordecai's hand.
"Mordecai," Benson said looking up at him.
"I'm sorry. I know you've got this whole... thing... But I'm just so damn turned on-"
"Mordecai, come to the bedroom with me."
Mordecai saw the man beneath him; he looked for any indication Benson was bluffing or messing around, and couldn't find any. Still, he was skeptical.
"This is the meanest prank anyone's ever pulled on me."
Benson pushed himself up and put a hand to the back of Mordecai's head as he kissed him. He pulled away, with a piercing gaze. "I'm ready for this if you are."
"You don't have to tell me twice," said Mordecai, scooping Benson over his shoulder, going over to his bedroom door and opening it with his foot.
"Whoa!" Benson shouted at the sudden burst of energy Mordecai displayed. "Mordecai, I still think we should!-"
Once inside the room, Mordecai closed the door with the same foot, threw Benson down on his bed and hovered over him with a devilish grin.
"You have no idea what you're in for," Mordecai crashed his lips against Benson's, and started to pull that god awful sweater from Benson's body.
Benson gripped onto his arms to stop him.
"I'm starting to feel like I'm in a Lifetime Movie!"
Mordecai tilted his head, not getting what Benson was saying.
"What's wrong?" Mordecai questioned, straddling his would be conquest.
Benson leaned back on his elbows. "You went from sensitive lover to college frat boy in a matter of seconds!"
Mordecai stared down at himself, and then back at Benson's face. "How do you mean?"
Benson sat fully up and adjusted his sweater. No one's been in his bedroom before. And it was hard for Benson to imagine this happening on a fairly regular basis. Mordecai... In his bedroom... In his personal space... In more ways than one... Benson wasn't sure he could get used to that.
"The over the shoulder thing was a bit much," Benson said, looking away from Mordecai.
Mordecai nodded understandingly, then let his fingers tickle and tease along Benson's arms. He kissed that spot on Benson's neck that caused him to snort in the dorkiest way.
Benson wanted it slow and sweet? Mordecai thought he could handle that.
"I've been dreaming," Mordecai kissed, "about this," he kissed again, "since I saw you," Benson's eyes fluttered shut, "in that little cricket costume."
"That was the sweetest weird thing anyone has ever said to me," is what Benson meant to say, because it was true, but Mordecai kissing him all over made it come out as "Nngh..."
"I'll do whatever you tell me to do," Mordecai said as he took each of Benson's metal hands and let him slowly fall onto his back once more.
Benson rubbed his hands down Mordecai's chest and when he got to the hem of his sweater, he pulled it over Mordecai's head.
The sweaters were gone. It was just those two, alone, on Benson's sheets, in each other's arms.
"Just... go slow," Benson whispered, looking up at Mordecai with trusting eyes.
Mordecai spread Benson's-
"I get the picture," Maellard said, grimacing.
Benson said, staring at Mordecai in disbelief, "You were about to describe us having... relations... for Maellard!"
"What? No! Of course not! I was totally not going to do that! Really! I was going to say I had spread your sheets out. So we could lie on them. Duh."
"Right," Benson said accusingly.
"I'll skip to the morning after, okay? Jesus!"
Mordecai and Benson were tangled up in each other the same way their horrible green and yellow sweaters were tangled up on the floor. The bedsheets twisted around their bodies and made them rub and brush each other in a tickling, pleasurable way.
Benson laid his head on Mordecai's chest, being comforted by his breathing.
It was almost nine, and they had to go back to the park eventually, but not then. Then, they had each other, and no one could take that away.
"I feel..." Mordecai started, "I feel amazing. It all felt so... amazing. How... How was it for you?"
Benson slowly opened his eyes, looked up at Mordecai and simply said in a euphoric and dreamy voice, "I haven't been screwed like that since high school."
"Obviously, you're embellishing, young man," Maellard scowled.
Benson said, scratching the back of his head, "I did... actually... say... that..."
Benson attached himself closer to Mordecai's side, and whispered random, dopey things most people ramble on about after they have sex.
Through the sex induced nonsense, Mordecai caught Benson saying, and he swore this is what he said, "I'd take a grounds keeper like you over a professor like your dad any day."
Mordecai held him closer, and he kissed Benson so gently it felt like nothing at all, but he couldn't help but think Benson would be choosing wrong if he was ever presented with that choice.
4. I'm Not in Love
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Maellard nodded. Benson and Mordecai looked on, expectantly.
"Was there any moment were you discouraged the relationship, Benton?"
Benson opened his mouth to answer, but Mordecai interrupted him.
"Benson was clear that our relationship was inappropriate. I just... I just didn't care." Mordecai straightened up in his seat. "I was selfish."
"I was more selfish. I took advantage of my manager position," Benson admitted, looking over to Mordecai.
Maellard told them both with a frown, "Bad decisions were made all around. And wouldn't you know it? I haven't been convinced to save you from the unemployment line, Baton."
"Please. Just... let me finish the story," Mordecai pleaded.
Maellard rolled his eyes. "If you wish. But my mind will be unchanged."
"Thank you, sir. So, in the beginning of December of that same year-"
"Hey! You know who else had a miracle kid?" Muscle Man began, setting up the Nativity scene on the lawn for the thousandth time. "My mom!"
"I swear to God I'm gonna beat the shit out of you with baby Jesus," Rigby threatened.
Muscle Man and High Five Ghost laughed off Rigby's threat (because he's Rigby) and slapped their hands together high in the air. Mordecai rolled his eyes.
"You guys get more annoying every year," Mordecai groaned.
Muscle Man smirked, "Says you."
Mordecai and Rigby readjusted the inflatable menorah more to the left, and when they were confident it wouldn't flop over they helped Muscle Man and High Fives with the placing the fake farm animals and the Virgin Mary.
"So, I hear Mr. C's still throwing a shit fit since you last saw him," Rigby said, tactfully.
"Shit fit" was putting it mildly. His father only called once between Thanksgiving and now, and that was to tell him he wasn't Mordecai's emergency contact anymore.
"He'll get over it," Mordecai said, focusing on the task at hand.
Muscle Man offered, with a slight shrug, "Sometimes it's good to have your old man push you. Makes you strong."
"Not necessarily," High Fives sighed. "If it wasn't for my father, I'd probably still have my body."
"Didn't you die in a mosh pit?" Rigby questioned with narrowed eyes.
"Yeah... But I only went to that mosh pit to prove my point."
"And what was that bro?" Muscle Man asked.
High Fives blinked a few times. "I don't remember."
"Okay," Mordecai threw down a plastic lamb. "I appreciate this. Really, but I don't want to talk about dads anymore."
Muscle Man and High Fives said nothing else, but Rigby huffed and poked at the baby Jesus.
"What did you do to make him so pissed? Is it that art school crap again?"
"Yeah. sort of. I really don't want to talk about it, Rigby."
"Okay, okay. I get it. I can't relate 'cause my parents are dead and all. But whatever it is you were fighting about, I'd try to forget about it." Rigby put baby Jesus where he needed to be.
Joseph looked down at Jesus so lovingly, Mordecai almost forgot he was made of plastic.
Did Joseph know Jesus was going to be this huge deal? Maybe he saw greatness in Jesus from the moment he was born. Mordecai tried to imagine having someone believe in you so strongly...
Of course they'd be crushed if you didn't live up to that potential.
"My dad's always had a stick up his ass," Mordecai said, still staring at the plastic savior.
Rigby scoffed, "Your dad has a forest up his ass... Just out of the blue, you ever get Benson to green light 'Hoagie Day'?"
"You're beginning to bore me, son," Maellard warned.
"I'm getting there... I promise I'm getting there."
Benson shredded the last of the previous year's memos, and patted himself on the back. Not too much roof/water/psychological damage this year. That was an improvement.
It had begun to lightly snow outside. As much as Benson loved looking at it, he cursed the fact he'd have to drive home in it. Maybe Mordecai could walk him home?
"Hey," a voice said, accompanied by a small knock.
Benson looked on, curious. "Come in!"
Mordecai entered Benson's office, wearing his blue hoodie and a dark blue scarf, and walked up to his desk. He was not smiling.
"Ben."
"Mordecai, hey!" Benson lit up. "You finished your chores for today?"
"Yeah."
"Great! We can go back to my apartment before the snow gets too bad." Benson got up from his seat and stood on his toes to kiss Mordecai on the cheek.
Mordecai flinched away. "Benson."
Benson laughed at Mordecai's expression.
"Is my coffee breath that bad?" Mordecai shook his head "no". Benson's face became twisted with amusement and confusion. Maybe Mordecai was guilty about something? "Okay... What did you break?"
"I didn't break anything, Benson, I just-"
"Then stop acting weird and take me home," Benson shoved Mordecai playfully then slid a hand down his arm before holding on and pulling Mordecai towards the door.
Mordecai wouldn't budge.
"I..." Mordecai looked everywhere but Benson's eyes. "I made some phone calls today."
"So have I," Benson laughed. "Get to your point."
"First I called my dad. And I apologized."
Benson was now totally confused, but chuckled, waiting for the punchline. "But... you had nothing to apologize for."
Mordecai took in a shaky breath. "We talked... And he agreed to let me try the newspaper thing. For up to year. Then I'd try his way."
"What newspaper thing?" Benson asked. But Benson didn't want to know. He was still waiting for the part where Mordecai said he was joking.
"That was my second phone call," Mordecai noticeably shifted his body away.
Benson looked lost.
"So... you're working two jobs. This one and the newspaper," Benson said.
"I quit."
Benson reacted like Mordecai had slapped him. Mordecai sucked on his teeth. He was waiting for the yelling.
Instead Benson stayed very quiet.
"Why?"
"I can't argue with someone that I know is right. I can't be here, knowing I could've been someone better... Had something better..."
Benson shook his head defiantly. "You're a better person now."
Mordecai swallowed, and spoke clearly so Benson couldn't misconstrue his words.
"I don't want to wake up every day, doing the same routine and getting the same crappy paycheck so I can look at some... Existentialist douche splash paint around and live my life. I was going to be an artist-"
"You are already," Benson said.
"A real artist. But I'm not. Instead, I'm Mordecai the Grounds keeper... I'm stuck here. With you." Mordecai paused, and Benson stared on with hurt, angry eyes. "So I'm doing the next best thing, and hopefully this whole grounds keeper thing was just a phase. And... I really don't think it would be smart for us to carry on like... This..."
Benson stood, dumbstruck.
"What do you want me to say to that?"
"Congratulations maybe? I mean, a slacker like me is actually doing something with his life," Mordecai said, looking down at his feet.
"Doing something with your life? That's... Mordecai," Benson's breathing became heavy, and he took in a sharp breath, "Were you... Were you planning this?"
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Mordecai groaned.
"You were. You were planning to just... up and leave when this whole thing was set in your favor," Benson said, eyes wet and shiny. "And you just... You saw an opportunity to get free shit from your boss."
"I never had those intentions," Mordecai defended himself, feeling attacked. Here he was, trying to finally prove to everyone he wasn't a failure, and Benson couldn't just shut the fuck up and be happy for him.
Dick.
"You sure didn't turn any of that stuff down, now did you?" Benson was finding it hard to control his volume, "Did you?"
"This is precisely why we shouldn't stay together. I'm trying to move up the social ladder, and you're acting like this... Jilted lover." Mordecai rolled his eyes. "Dad warned me about this."
"Since when do you take your dad's advice?" Benson asked, sounding hysterical.
"Since I realized the man was only trying to help me! You said yourself you don't date failures. So let me be on my way onto becoming a success." Mordecai threw up his hands. "Everybody wins!"
"Are you listening to yourself? Seriously? You're..." Benson felt out of breath, "You're leaving me because your dad, of all people, says I'm holding you back? That makes no sense, Mordecai!"
"Why can't you be happy for me?" Mordecai finally shouted. "I'd be happy for you if you wanted to become a drummer!"
"My point exactly! I already am a drummer! I play the occasional show and I'm also a park manager! There is more than one way to live out your dreams!"
"Says you!" Mordecai said, frustrated.
Benson shook his head, because it was the only thing that helped the spinning and the dizziness and the utter shock.
"I can't believe you're actually breaking up with me like this..."
"Think of this as a learning experience." Mordecai snapped. This conversation was lasting way past its expiration date and he had to get out of there. He had to escape how horrible Benson was making him feel. "Like, now you know not to fuck your employees."
Benson blinked a few times, and Mordecai realized he was on the edge of tears.
That came out... Much harsher than he intended...
It was like Benson was a weaker version of himself. His eyes unblinking and empty. His mouth formed a straight line.
Mordecai reached into his hoodie pocket to get something. With a jingle, Mordecai pulled out his keys and held them out to Benson.
"You've moved your stuff out?" Benson asked. It was like he wasn't mentally there anymore.
Mordecai nodded.
"Last night."
"Of course," Benson stared at him with a blank expression, as if he were having a nightmarish daydream.
"This wasn't easy for me. At all. And it hurts a lot, and I'm so sorry, but I'm just..." Mordecai trailed off. He had made his point.
Benson felt his face slowly grow red and hot, but he held it in. The anger, the sadness; he could already feel his fists clenching. But he held strong.
"That's fine," Benson's throat dried up. "You... You need to be off the premises by four."
He wouldn't take Mordecai's keys. Mordecai wanted to take it back, because he didn't mean it goddamn it and it came out all wrong and he just wanted to be better... But he couldn't let up.
He was going to live up to his potential.
"Like I already mentioned. I'm sorry," Mordecai quickly threw his keys on Benson's desk and headed out of his office door.
"I never want to see you again," Benson said, but Mordecai was already gone, and Benson was too quiet for even himself to hear, and he hoped he could avoid collapsing into himself before he got home.