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He lingers by the pond side most nights. He doesn't speak, not that he has anyone to speak to. Nobody approaches him about anything if it isn't related to Ice Town. He doesn't even speak to himself.
Most nights, he sits as still as possible on the grass, tired and alone and helpless. Sometimes, he strips and swims in the pond. He knows he shouldn't, but nothing really matters to him anymore, he's at an all time low. Sometimes, he sits under a tree and reads. He was even able to sneak away some alcohol once, and ended up sleeping there, drunk. He was late to class, but that didn't bother him as much as it would have if he had never even run for mayor.
One night, he hears footfalls. He isn't afraid, he doesn't even look back. He just throws a rock across the pond. It skids and sinks.
"I knew you've been coming out here."
Her voice is like a song, soft and easy to listen to. He hasn't heard that in anyones voice in months. He looks at her and she smiles sympathetically, no teeth showing, eyes pleading, but what they beg him for, he knows nothing about.
"How?" He asks.
"I got a feeling." She tells him. She sighs and he throws the last of his rocks. She watches beside him.
They sit down under a tree. He digs a cigarette out from his pocket but she turns it down. He lights it and sits in silence. He watches her from the corner of his tired eye. Old Ben would never do this, sit beside Leslie Knope at 2 in the morning with a cigarette in between his chapped lips. Old Ben wouldn't stop talking. Old Ben, he would be sleeping now, maybe even dreaming of her. Is he dreaming now? He rubs the knuckles of his free hand into his gut. He's awake.
"I know this sucks. For you." She says.
"It does."
And she's silent again. She's thinking, planning. Maybe she's even waiting. He never knows. He looks at her, full on this time. She's gazing back. Old Ben would've looked away immediately. Instead, he opens his mouth and allows the white smoke to cover his whole field of vision for a second.
"You lost a lot. The respect you had. Your dignity, your reputation, your friends."
He nods. "I was aware." He doesn't know how she's helping but he's positive she will find away to.
"I don't know how to help," That was new. "But, you didn't lose me. And I'm open for suggestions on ways I can help."
Somewhere inside him, something throbs. It's happened before. It happens whenever Leslie says something about him. Whenever she looks at him. Whenever she passes by him. He wants to kiss her, drop the cigarette and cup her face in his hands. But he can't, instead, he leans his head back on the trunk.
"I don't know Leslie. Really, what I want is a second chance." She chuckles but it's in good will. All of what she does is. She truely is amazing. "But, I would like to talk about it."
She grins. It means she's up for the task. All it does to him is make him want to touch her. Not in a overly sexual context. He just wants to brush his fingers through her hair. Maybe fall asleep on the ground by the pond with her head propped on his shoulder. But instead he takes every opportunity to make her laugh, fill the silence with her cackle. He smiles every time.
An hour has passed and he throws the cigarette butt into the air. He doesn't watch to see where it lands because he's looking at her. She does watch it land, but when it does, she turns back to him. Her smile fades but her eyes glow, like the moon. Two moons. Covered in sea. He should sleep.
"Why do you still talk to me?"
She gapes. "Well... I've always liked you."
If the sensation in his stomach had a face, it would be beaming at her. More than usual.
He looks away because his face is getting warm and numb. She probably can't see because it's dark, but his face is a shade of pink that resembles a watermelon. He can't see either but he can sense it, and Leslie sometimes can, too.
"You know, I became a mayor to impress a girl."
"Oh god, really?" She guffawed. "And what happened. How'd she react."
"I don't know yet..."
She tilts her head and clicks her tongue, eyes looking into space. Well, not really, that's impossible. All she's doing is focusing her brain internally—
"Who is it?"
His head jerks up and he's looking at her, again, his face red and his insides much redder. He doesn't register the question.
"Who was the girl?"
She's leaning close, waiting. He's thinking too fast. He's acting too fast. Too fast that he isn't aware he's of what he's doing until after they've been done.
He kissed Leslie Knope. He leaned forward into her and their lips met. Hers were soft and he didn't have time to worry about his own, because too soon, it was over. His heart was racing, so was his mind.
His voice was raspy and slow and he could barely hear it. "You."
And then she's wrapping her arms around his neck, her small hands on the back of his head, pulling him closer. His nose is against her skin and he takes in all her sent. Her arms slide down his shoulders, but she holds on to his shoulders. He buries his fingers into her hair and it's like dipping fingertips in gold. The feeling in his stomach twists and turns and knots itself like they do. He worries that maybe the feeling will explode and come out of his mouth, but it doesn't. He notices that their mouths are the perfect shape, even though their sizes are relatively different in every way, and it's like the only part of his body that fits with hers, like a puzzle where theres only there's only two pieces. Finally, they've been connected. It's more satisfying than finishing a puzzle. Or anything, really. He realizes he's in love with her.
They pull away again and he remembers where he is. He's looking at her and she's looking at him and he realizes all of this was worth it for her. He had planned to leave the town completely, but Leslie Knope made staying tolerable. Everything she did made being around her a dream. He checked, again, if it was a dream. It wasn't and he was fine with that.
"Well... I don't know if I impressed her." But he's smiling.
And she chuckles. "Oh, trust me, she's impressed." And then she crawls over to him so they're both facing the same direction, her head on his shoulder, huddled in the crook of his neck. He puts his arms around her chest like he's hugging her, and her small fingers are gripping onto his bicep. He can feel her breath on his arms and closes his eyes and wishes that they can melt into eachother and that time will stop and they can sit like this, legs all tangled together, her body against his own.
Her breath becomes slow and soon, she's asleep. He knows because she's talking in her sleep, not to him, but about him. He lays down on the dirt. Tomorrow he'll worry about their clothes and school. For now, he listens to Leslie's voice until he's asleep, too. He dreams about a goddess. Her hair is blonde and her eyes are blue.
It could be anyone.