Benson sat behind his desk, his forty-watt desk lamp illuminating only a small circle around him. The rest of the room was dark, only partially illuminated by excess light from the small lamp.

It was now, at twelve thirty, that Benson took a moment to imagine himself as a private detective, tucked away in some dingy office in a tall building on the wrong side of New York. He leaned back in his chair, and imagined the back tax forms in front of him were really vital police reports concerning a vicious murder, a case that only he could crack.

He stood up, imagined himself in a long tan trench coat, loosened black tie, cheap cigarette, and walked round the room. His boss was gonna be on his ass if he couldn't get a lead on this case.

Benson let out a small nasal giggle, and sat back down again. But the reality was, that Mr. Maellard would be displeased if he couldn't sort out these back taxes. However, he decided to give up for tonight, and continue tomorrow. He had given himself a generous deadline, well before they were due, and therefore, he had the luxury of time. Something he rarely had.

He clicked the lamp off, and left the room. Walking down the hallway, he ran into Mordecai, carrying a glass of… something to the room he shared with Rigby.

"Hey Mordecai" Benson began. He always felt it his duty to strike up small talk with his employees whenever he encountered them. It was good for morale. Probably. Maybe.

Mordecai looked at him for three seconds. "Oh, hey Benson" he said.

"Have any plans for this evening?"

"What? Oh… no. I mean, I don't think so. It's whatever really"

"I see" Benson said, holding in a sigh. Talking to Mordecai and Rigby was difficult. They were either childish and over-excited, or dumb and distracted whenever he had any interaction with them. It made sense, in all honesty, considering that they were both uneducated stoner losers. He felt for them sometimes, but had mostly given up on trying to shape them up. He couldn't fire them either – they had become a feature of the park, things felt dull when they weren't around, and Pops was very fond of them.

"What's that you got there?" Benson asked.

"Oh, this? It's… water."

"It looks a little cloudy for water" Benson observed.

"Hmmm, yeah" Mordecai said, grinning and closing his eyes.

"Uh… Mordecai? Are you… asleep?" Benson asked incredulously.

"What? No. Still here."

"Well, try and get some good sleep. Monday tomorrow. Work starts early"

"Yeah, sure, okay"

"Hump. How are you so nonchalant about everything?" Benson asked, feeling envious. If only he could be so carefree about his own pathetic life.

"I am on a lot of medication"

"Oh" Benson said, surprised and disappointed at the same time.

"Haha, yeaaaaah. Night Benson"

"Goodnight, Mordecai."

'Well, that was a waste of time' Benson thought to himself.

Benson headed down the corridor, and down the stairs. He peeked into the living room, only to check to see if Rigby was downstairs, but he did a double take when he saw a small gray creature falling off the couch. Stunned, he stood and stared.

"Well, sooo what? Ah…are yoooou breakin up wittme?" The gray creature slurred. Benson finally saw Rigby when he stood up on the couch.

"Go on, get outta here you piece of shit" Rigby yelled.

"What the fuck Rigberg? Yew jusss gonna throw it all away like that?"

"Throw what away? Fucking you in fast food bathrooms? Sitting on your bed in the dark for six hours at a time? Following you around while you tag places that no one gives a shit about?"

"Yo, fuck you Rigby" The creature said, with tears in his eyes.

"Just get out." Rigby said, sitting back down, and moving out of Benson's sight.

The gray creature drunkenly scampered out of the living room, after a couple attempts, and then hurried past Benson, slamming the door loud behind him.

Not entirely sure of what he was doing, Benson entered the living room and sat down on the armchair. Rigby didn't react to Benson's entry, though he seemed to be aware that Benson was there, and had seen what had happened.

Rigby was laying on the couch, with his legs draped over the back, and his head dangling off the edge, over the floor. His hands were clasped across his stomach as he stared at the ceiling.

"What was that?" Benson asked, finally.

"That was a breakup" Rigby said, as if it was nothing.

"Oh, I'm sorry… I think?"

"I'm not sorry it's over. I'm sorry it happened" Rigby said defiantly.

"So who was that?"

"My ex"

"Well, yeah, but who was it?"

Rigby sighed. "Damien. His name was Damien"

"I didn't know you were… you know"

"A faggot?"

"Oh, I wouldn't put it like that…" Benson said. Rigby laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm into dudes."

"Does Mordecai know?"

"Mordecai knows" Rigby said. Benson nodded slowly.

"So… have you and Mordecai ever…?"

"What? Well… kind of. Nothing too crazy, but he'll get a lil' intimate if I get him alone and enough substances in him."

"Uh huh…"

Benson hated to admit it, but he had always felt a kind of attraction to Rigby's personality. He was so… cool. And he was carefree, and confident in himself.

It's true what they say. Love yourself, and others will love you. But Benson didn't love Rigby. Well, not exactly, anyway.

"So, what happened with…Damien was it?" Benson asked, curious. He knew it was none of his business, but he had a feeling that Rigby wouldn't care.

Rigby took a deep breath in.

"He was boring. Not like reading books boring, or intelligent boring, but just… lame. Like, his idea of a date was sitting on his bed and drinking. And when we were drunk he wouldn't even put on music, or dance with me, or do stupid things. He would just… sit there. Every day was the same. He was so, so incredibly lame."

"Ah… I see" Benson said.

"Yeah, and I was getting tired of him hitting me" Rigby added offhandedly.

"Gosh… that's pretty serious, Rigby" Benson commented. Rigby shrugged.

"It was super annoying. It's fine if it's like a few times a day or something, but he would just keep doing it"

"I don't know what to say" Benson said, shaking his head slightly.

"Excuse me" Rigby said, getting up and brushing past Benson before going out the front door. Curious, Benson peaked out the bay window to see what Rigby was doing, but he was just smoking a cigarette.

Benson felt weird about walking past Rigby after what had happened, so he decided to wait in the kitchen for Rigby to finish, then would sneak out through the hallway.

"Rigby! Rigby! Is Benson gone? You want some vyvanse or not? Cause I'm feelin' purty good dewd!" Mordecai called racing downstairs.

"Benson!" Mordecai exclaimed loudly when he entered the kitchen, his eyes wide, and his expression flat.

"Benson!" Mordecai exclaimed again. Benson noticed Mordecai's breathing had quickened, and he appeared to be panicking now.

"Mordecai… are you on amphetamines?" Benson asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Hahahahaha… just a prescription hahaaaaa…." Mordecai said in his trademark, unconvincing 'everything's fine here' voice.

"Why were you offering Rigby some? And why are you taking it to 'feel purty good?' Isn't it supposed to be treating something?" Benson questioned.

"Nothing, I'm fine" Mordecai yelled, before turning, and running through the living room at breakneck speed. He jumped over the couch, but his feet caught the armrest, and he fell flat on his face.

"Fuck you, I'm fine!" He shouted, before bounding up the stairs three at a time.

Benson sighed. He had never pegged Mordecai for a pill popper. Maybe he should have seen it sooner though. He chided himself for being so dumb.

He heard the front door open again, probably Rigby coming back in from his smoke. Benson could leave now. He stood up, and went out the other kitchen door, into the hallway, but Rigby had gone the same route, and they ended up meeting each other at the kitchen door.

"Hey," Rigby said, brushing past Benson.

"Uh… Mordecai was looking for you" Benson said, as he walked away from the kitchen. Rigby didn't reply, but Benson heard him rummaging around in the fridge. He paused. Benson felt like he should just walk out the door, but he wanted some kind of final interaction with Rigby for some reason. Very carefully, he made his way to the kitchen door, and poked his head through.

"Goodnight Rigby. I'm headed home." Benson said. He felt stupid. Why would Rigby care if he were leaving or not?

"Night" Rigby said, microwaving some dumplings. Benson hesitated at the door for a few seconds.

"What? I did all my work today, man! Don't look at me like that" Rigby exclaimed when he noticed Benson was still there.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's fine. Sorry." Benson stammered, then hurried out the front door. He had no idea why, but he wanted to be closer to Rigby. He had always been jealous of Mordecai and Rigby's friendship, their youth, and all the cool things they did together. He wished so dearly he was still of the age he could join in, but that ship had long since sailed. So why was he still trying?

And particularly, even more worryingly, why did he seek social approval from Rigby so much?

He let out a grunt of frustration before unlocking his car, firing it up, and speeding off bitterly.