Benson had seen it. Every time Chris got too close, too loud, too full of himself. Every time you shifted away, trying to keep things calm, to keep the peace. And every damn time Jess just giggled at you, egging Chris on, Benson felt that same tight pull in his chest, something deep and hot twisting under his ribs.

You were the only one in that place who actually worked, really worked. Kept the place running while everyone else coasted. Still, you took the crap that came with it. From Chris. From the boss. From customers who barely looked at you when they ordered.

But you stayed kind. Always kind. Every morning, the bell over the door would chime as you came in, and there you were, offering that soft “morning” his way. He’d play it cool, just nod or mutter something back, but it always hit him harder than he’d admit. You were light in a place that didn’t deserve it.

Chris and Jess was worse than usual, louder, meaner. Chris pushing buttons he shouldn’t have. He thought he was funny, just to torment you. But Benson saw it in your face, the way you were shrinking inside. He felt that old, ugly tension rising up again, the kind he hadn’t let surface in years. Then Chris turned on him, tossed out something sharp and cruel, and that was it. Benson’s patience cracked clean through.

The next few moments were a blur, noise, movement, heat. And then… quiet. Too quiet. All but your ragged breathing behind the counter

Benson stood there, breathing hard, his hands shaking, his whole body steady with leftover adrenaline. You just stared, frozen, eyes wide. He saw the fear there, knew it was because of him, and that hit harder than anything else ever could. He didn’t want to scare you. He just wanted you safe.

So he barked out instructions, voice too rough, too sharp. You flinched, and he hated himself for it. But there wasn’t time to think, not now. The place couldn’t be left as it was. Afterward, he got you into the car, slammed the door, and drove without looking back.

Now, hours later, in some roadside motel, Benson sat on the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes on the flickering TV. The sound filled the heavy silence between you.

“Calm down,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “I told you, I ain't gonna hurt you.” And he meant it. More than anything.