Chapter Text
The narrator tries to answer Stanley’s questions. Their exchanges were polite at first, but it didn’t take long until the narrator’s words were again coated in his usual arrogance.
’Well, Stanley, scripts were supposed to be interesting, wouldn’t you agree? If everything had simply gone your way, there would have been no fun left. I had to make sure everything was entertaining. And you, you made things difficult for me on purpose. Do you remember the times when you’d lock yourself in the broom closet room, and not listen to anything I said? Or the times when you disobeyed every single direction I gave you. You must know now that I wanted nothing but the best for you.’
‘Well, just as you must know now that I’m not just a button-pushing machine who’s incapable of thoughts.’ Stanley shrugs, his hazel eyes defiantly meeting the older man’s blue ones. ‘I made things difficult for you because you looked down on me. I prefer a life with routine and certainty, yes, but I deserve as much respect as anyone else. Sometimes you really were obnoxious, you know that? You - ‘ Stanley is just about to continue his accusations, but he sees hurt on the other man’s face, and suddenly forgets what he wanted to say.
‘I’ll go look for food.’ He breaks their eye contact, and hastily leaves the room.
---
Having discovered a small pond, Stanley has managed to catch a fish for dinner. He makes his way back. He doesn’t want to apologise, even though he didn’t enjoy seeing the narrator like that.
The narrator has already set up the fire. Stanley sits on the opposite side in silence, frying the fish.
‘Would you mind if I have some of the fish too?’
Stanley quirks an eyebrow. ‘Of course, I’m not petty.’
‘Uh, thank you, Stanley.’
A few minutes of silence pass until the narrator decides to speak again.
‘Listen, Stanley, I never meant to be rude. I am a lover of sarcasm, yes, but I didn’t view you as inferior in any way.’
‘That’s good to know. Here, have this.’ Stanley passes a large piece of fish to the older man.
‘I no longer have any authority over you, and I know some of my behaviour in the past could be seen as offensive. I wouldn’t like to be a burden for you. If you wish to continue your story on your own, I won’t stop you.’
Stanley looks up from the fire with surprise, and finds the narrator avoiding the eye contact. ‘What do you mean…I don’t hate you, narrator. I just think you need to change your attitude, that doesn’t mean I don’t like you.’
‘Like me?’
‘…appreciate your presence. I don’t know how I would have coped if I was the only one there in that huge empty building. You wrote good stories for me. I don’t resent you.’
The narrator looks relieved, though still a little puzzled. Stanley observes the handsome man from across the fire. A thought suddenly occurs to him. ‘Would you like a hug?’
‘A hug? Uh, I don’t see anything particularly wrong with it, though I must say it’s unconventional for - ‘ before the narrator can finish his rambles, he is pulled into a quick but tight hug. ‘This … is nice.’
‘I just think you’re too uptight, narrator. Even more than I am.’ Stanley smiles.