When Benson woke up, it was nearly midnight. He hadn't expected to sleep so long; hadn't even expected he would fall asleep. "Ungh," he mumbled, pushing himself up. His eyes felt like they were burning, but he couldn't fall back asleep after he'd just woken up. "Ah," he looked around. The room was dim, the only light was the moon shining through the curtains. Wasn't Skips supposed to be coming?

He slowly got out of bed, rubbing his eyes, desperately trying to make them burn less. He was so tired, so exhausted. He didn't want to get up, but if he'd kept the man waiting he'd probably feel like a worse person, so he felt his way around the room as his eyes adjusted. He didn't want to turn on the lights for fear it would make his eyes hurt even more.

He entered the living room and noticed a small lamp lighting the corner of the area. Beside that lamp was a body. Benson almost jumped out of his skin, letting out a loud gasp until he realized that the body was none other than Skips reading by the light of the lamp. "Skips?" he yelled. "What are you doing?"

"I didn't want to wake you," the man replied, finishing the last sentence of his chapter and then closing the book. "You were in such a deep sleep."

"You could have woken me up! How long have you been here?" he rubbed his eyes again. "Weren't you coming at nine? I was only supposed to take quick nap..."

"I don't mind. The door was open, so I checked on you," Skips said, standing up. "You were asleep, so I decided to wait for a little. I got caught up in the book instead."

"Only you," Benson sighed. Then, upon remembering why Skips had come in the first place, frowned. "Why are you here?" he meant to sound strict, but instead sounded far more threatened. Did Skips think he couldn't do his job? Was he here to check up on him and make sure he was still alive? Did he know about his situation? As these thoughts swarmed his head, he felt the color drain from his face and reached to hug himself.

"Relax, Benson," Skips crossed his muscular arms. His voice was calm and quiet and it made Benson feel a little better. But just a little. "I understand the situation a little better now since talking to Pops back at the park today."

"What?" Benson nearly snapped. He'd asked Pops? More importantly, Pops had told him? Wasn't his situation supposed to be confidential? He should have been given that much. "Pops told you?" he could feel his cheeks heat up. He was getting more furious by the moment and he knew no matter what he wasn't going to be able to stop himself. "Doesn't my privacy mean anything anymore? Fuck," he yelled.

Skips didn't move from his spot. He seemed to be waiting for Benson to pipe down, but once he realized that wasn't going to happen, he made a move. "Hey," he said softly, "Just listen to me."

"No, fuck!" Benson turned back around and started yelling about how much he hated everything when Skips saw this as an opportunity. He quickly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Benson from behind. He felt the redhead tense up, but that was okay. It was okay as long as Benson was still, quiet and not able to hurt himself in his rage. Especially lately, Skips had noticed Benson become so infuriated that he would literally knock himself out doing something stupid. Skips hated to be the one to run over and make sure he was still breathing. He had nearly fainted from worry himself a few times. To top it all off, Benson's terrible smoking habit had popped back up.

When Benson had become so enraged at Mordecai and Rigby one day, it was like he'd completely lost control of himself. His eyes had become red and so full of tears that Skips wondered if he could see his surroundings. He'd screamed so much that he'd lost his voice and when Mordecai and Rigby had finally had enough, Skips went in to help. He told them to get out of here, that them being around would only make it worse. They happily obliged and Skips proceeded to try and calm their manager down. Benson was so full of tears that it almost pained Skips to watch him. Why was he so mad, Skips still didn't know, but if it was Mordecai and Rigby he thought he had the right to be.

So he had pulled the shorter man close and hugged him tightly in attempt to calm him down. He was surprised to find that within a matter of minutes, the redhead's loud cries had turned into nothing more than quiet sobs.

When he noticed the same thing happening right then, he relaxed his hold on the other. It embarrassed Benson to think he'd become so relaxed when Skips held him. He didn't ever want to think it meant something more, but the possibility was being shoved into his face every time he erupted. He thought, "If only Skips was here" and realized it must have meant more than he thought it did.

"Are you okay?" Skips asked in that same gravelly voice.

"Yeah," Benson replied awkwardly as the tall man let go.

"Are you ready to listen to me?" he asked again.

Benson sighed but nodded nonetheless and Skips began to speak.

"Don't get mad again, but I overheard you and Pops talking about your situation. I brought it up to him today and he told me everything."

"So you were eavesdropping?" Benson tried not to yell as he turned back around to face Skips.

Skips shrugged. Everyone in the park had him pegged as this mature, godlike figure, but Benson knew. He knew how much of a little shit Skips could be compared to the others. "The point is, now that I know, I wanna help you."

"Help me? You think you can help me?" Benson gestured to himself. "No one can help me."

"If you keep thinking like that, you'll be right."

Benson sighed angrily, rubbing his head. There was this living, breathing cure to his anger right in front of him and he was pushing him away. Well, although he was less of a definite cure and more like a medication, Skips did help. Just being around him helped. On days he had no energy to yell at the park employees, Skips took care of that for him. On days he was too tired to deal out chores, Skips took over. For moments he just wanted a coffee, there Skips was, mug in hand.

He hated to admit that he did rely on the man. He just wondered when it was too much to rely on one person. He didn't want to put all his trust and faith into someone only to have them let him down. It always happened to him. Constantly.

"I have a therapist," Benson said. It was his way of saying he didn't need any more help, even though he was lying. He figured Skips could probably tell and would ask him again.

"It's okay to rely on more than one person," Skips said.

Maybe, Benson wondered to himself, it was okay. Maybe it really would be okay for Skips to help him out. His therapist did say that it would be a good thing. He didn't want to feel like he was being pitied, though, and when it all came down to it... that was probably what scared him the most.