Seven Stages

Denial

No. He didn't want to believe it, let alone think about it.

Benson thought about many things. How the park managed to get cleaned up so swiftly after Mordecai and Rigby destroy it like clockwork (Every day, to be precise) without Mr. Mallerd going bankrupt was beyond Benson's comprehension. He wasn't so sure why he liked wearing a bathrobe just to take a bath when there was obviously nothing worth hiding, nor did he understand why video game graphics today are still trapped in the 80's. Why does his apartment have a window that looks out only into the indoor hallway and not outside? And surely his name isn't THAT hard to remember…such trivial things to think about when he has to spend the rest of his waking seconds in a stressed state, worrying about his own ass being fired if he doesn't get the crap HE'S responsible for under control…

Yes, Benson thought about a lot of things. But there was one little thought that has been haunting him all these years as he slaved away at his dead end job; one little nagging voice that overpowered his complaints about not getting enough respect or appreciation or being called the right name or why he can't just relax for five minutes….

"Mr. Lonely…" That's all it said, but the thought always opened a novel of flaws that Benson hated coming to terms to.

Nobody wanted to love a gumball machine. No woman wanted to be with a man that wasn't able to pleasure her…no sane person wanted to be friends with a monster. If only he could close that book and recite his valiant ways for the world to hear! He wasn't as cruel and cold as he was made out to be….

The gumball machine hadn't realized that he had been sitting at his table for the last ten minutes, staring at nothing. Shit, his coffee had gone cold again. But what was the point in heating it back up again? He hated being in these moods…but it was worth a try since he had to go to his doom in a half hour.

As the microwave hummed it's familiar tune, Benson slumped against the counter of his apartment's kitchen and brooded once more about himself. How many more days of this? Of breaking respect and damaging the few relationships he already had? If he somehow died in the future, he didn't want to go down as the modern day Scrooge. It wasn't his fault though; it was Mordecai and Rigby's. If they had never stepped foot in that beautiful park, his life would have been rainbows and unicorns. He would be happier and gay and loved by all his peers, just like Pops…

He almost jumped at the sudden twang he felt in his stomach from thinking of the older man. Pops…sweet innocent, loving Pops…he was the only white cloud on Benson's horizon besides Skips. Unlike the yeti, the lollipop man was always so caring and willing to follow the manager around like an excited puppy. He was the only one who seemed interested in what Benson thought or did; he was the only one who made the metallic being smile and feel warm inside with his little games and those cozy smiles…but at the same time, Pops only made Mr. Lonely's situation worse.

For the longest time, Benson had the notion that Pops skipped in the other direction, to put it fairly. The older man was just too cute and childish to take a relationship with a woman seriously. His mannerisms, the way he talked, the way he moved, the high interest he held in all of his male companions made it impossible for Benson to believe that he was straight. But that was ok, really. In fact, he liked it that way; if it was any other situation, then Benson's fluffy little cloud would be gone from his sky the second Mrs. Right came along.

But did that mean that Benson was gay too? It was a touchy subject he preferred not to think about. Sure, he needed Pops' company to keep him sane, and he really appreciated the guy….but he just couldn't be. He didn't want to fall in love with anyone regardless of gender because all he expected was rejection and mocking laughter…but the thing that scared him the most was that his only true friend might be too interested in the living machine he pined to be around with.

His fingers tapped impatiently as he watched the microwave, wishing it would take longer.

No, he didn't want to be in love, because nobody would love a monster like him.