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Part of Leslie thinks that she's making this out to be a bigger deal than it is, which isn't necessarily out of character for her. When she was ten and her mother told her that her father was going to be buried in Florida instead of Pawnee, she cried for hours. Pawnee was his home, it was their home, and he was already taken from her. Why did he have to be taken farther away?
She knew why, but it didn't make it any easier.
She dated Ben for less than a month, and they split amicably. Why does this breakup hurt the most?
She knows why, and it still doesn't make anything easier.
She knows she shouldn't be here, wrapped in Ben's abandoned windbreaker, watching the rain drizzle down on the basketball court blacktop. She knows she should have left already, thrown the jacket he left behind at the park in the backseat of her car and given it back to him at work on Monday.
She's an adult. She's fully capable of determining what she is and isn't supposed to do. It's just this one small caveat, this one stubborn wrench in her plans that blurs the line she isn't supposed to cross.
And the thing is, she's strong all the time. She pretends like nothing's wrong, smiles, throws herself into her work and campaign and tells herself the relationship didn't mean anything more than it was. Here, alone, without Ron or Ann's judgmental eyes and raised eyebrows, she can break the rules and be weak. Even if makes it harder on herself.
The rain picks up so she pulls the hood over her already soaked hair, listening to the heavy droplets patter down around her. This is fine, she thinks. This doesn't mean anything. Except only that it does and the jacket still smells like him and she's just not sure how much longer she can keep this up.
“You'll catch cold if you just stand out here, in the rain."
She turns around, blinks a few times, and sighs. She just can't catch a break. “Yeah.”
He closes the distance between them in four long strides, coming to stand at her shoulder.
Leslie swallows. “Did you come back for your jacket?”
He shakes his head. “No. I didn't realize I left it.”
“Oh.” But that isn't really an explanation, is it? Is he allowed to be cryptic and distant? Is that fair? Are there rules for this sort of thing?
Ben clears his throat. “I was helping Tom get the projector screen back to his house, it didn't all fit in his car. I passed by here on the way home and saw you standing in the rain.”
Right, she knew that first part. They had a movie night for the kids, but sent everyone home early when the unexpected rain came down. Tom had rented them the screen from his entertainment company and left grumbling something about water damage.
She turns her head at an angle so that she can see him from underneath the hood of the windbreaker, feeling a tightness in her chest at the way the rain makes his hair stick to his forehead. “Isn't that how people get murdered in the movies?”
“Yeah.” He turns his head too and smiles down at her. “But I risked it for you.”
Damn it. Damn him, and his stupid smile and his stupid compassion and his stupid perfect jacket that fits her like his hugs. Damn their short relationship that shouldn't mean so much to her. Leslie looks back out at the blacktop.
“Listen--”
“I don't think--”
“Oh.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, you go.”
“I don't think I can do this.”
“Do what?” He sounds sad.
“Pretend like nothing happened.” She pauses. The rain begins to soften. “Between us.”
She can see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. “Of course you can,” He says, softly.
Leslie bites down on her lip, tilting her head up to the sky to mask the tears that might fall. Rain, tears, it all looks the same.
“You can hate me, if it makes it easier.” He says when she doesn't reply. She can hear a teasing smile in his voice. “Y'know, like you used to?”
“I can try.” She kicks the toe of her shoe into the mud. “But then you say things like that and it gets a lot harder.”
Ironically, he laughs. “Keep the jacket, I'll see you Monday.”
“No.” Leslie slips it off. She'll do something crazy if she lets this thing sit in her house all weekend. “No. Take it.”
Ben raises an eyebrow. “I don't want you to be cold.”
“No.” She repeats, thrusting the jacket in his direction. Tears sting at the back of her throat so she doesn't bother saying anything else. Cautiously, he takes the sodden jacket and folds it over his arm.
“Okay.” Ben takes a shaky breath and places a hand on her shoulder, tugging her just an inch closer so he can place a chaste kiss on top of her soaked hair. “Okay. Drive safe.”
“Okay.”