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Today, Stanley found himself crawling through a vent. Not the most odd thing he’s done. It was new, though. After seeing the ‘new content’, the Narrator had grown very displeased with the whole matter, wanting them to go back to how things were. He’d spoken with such tenderness in his tone and even called Stanley his friend. He didn’t have the heart to tell the man he liked the jump circle, simply agreeing. It was a small gesture, but enough to get Stanley excited to keep doing what they’ve been doing forever for the next 200 years.
So, crawling through a vent being told he had something new to show him? Not exactly what he expected.
Curious, he shimmied through the tight space, huffing as he hit the bottom of the shaft he’d just jumped down. What would it be? Something so secret not even the game developers could see it? How did he even make something if the developers didn’t? Would that count the Narrator as an honorary developer. Somehow, Stanley felt like he wouldn’t be very happy with that statement. Oh, wait, he was here. No time for pointless thoughts that would be answered soon.
It was a very nice room, he’d really never seen anything like it before. Wood paneling and high ceilings, Stanley could see himself comfortably staying here. If not for the giant archway, anyway. Blinding light teemed at the edges, goading the man forward, to step through and see what’s out there. Heart skipping a beat, Stanley knew what was coming; outside.
“I call it The Memory Zone!”
Stanley stepped through the archway, squinting in shock at the sudden increase in light. Wow, he’d really gone all out for this, huh? He took a deep breath, smiling as the scent of grass filled his lungs. It looked surprisingly similar to the freedom ending, Stanley noted, even down to the same sorts of flowers. Were they the Narrator’s favorite? Hm. Maybe he could ask later. Stanley certainly thought they looked rather nice.
Looking out over the trees, birds chirping and flying overhead, the breeze in his hair… It was nice. Really nice. Sure, he’s felt it before, but not usually for long- the cutscene was short and had a predetermined path for him to follow. The second he stepped through that door he knew it would only be a matter of seconds before it was gone. Sometimes he’d sit on the steps out of the facility and just… look. But really being able to stand in it?
Well, it was better.
“Ahem, Stanley? Would you like to see the inside? I’ve put a lot of time and love into it, I really think you would enjoy taking a look around!” The Narrator’s voice called out, clearly eager. Stanley couldn’t help but smile wider, yet still shook his head.
‘Just a bit longer out here. Out here is nice. Looks good.’ Signing idly, Stanley took a few steps forwards, feeling the dirt shift under his feet. He kicked at it, making a small dent in the ground. Cool.
“You really think it’s that nice..? Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to stay a minute… hmm, yes, really take in the scenery! A cabin is only so desired due to its location, after all. The value would be utterly diminished if it was just another building on the side of the road. Yes, Stanley, take your time! Stay as long as you’d like! Here, here, come sit on the bench!” A strong gust of wind emphasized the Narrator’s directions, lightly pushing Stanley in the correct direction.
Who was he to say no to such a nice offer? Trying not to seem too eager, Stanley only half-ran to the bench, sitting down with a satisfying creak. The view from here was definitely something. The trees framing his vision, tufts of weeds tickling his ankles, the clouds meandering through the blue sky. The definition of picturesque. Hills upon hills, and what could be a mountain back there… Stanley found it a little odd. Why put so much work into an area he originally intended Stanley to simply pass through? Ah, wait.
‘You made this for yourself, right? How much do you come here?’ Stanley signed, looking up towards the sky. In an area like this it seemed to make less sense he would be up there, and so he shifted his gaze to his side, as if the Narrator was sitting next to him. That felt better. The Narrator hummed, clicking his tongue as he thought.
“Well, I couldn’t give you a specific number, but not too terribly often. Usually just whenever you run yourself into a dead end or want your precious ‘alone time’.” He laced the last words with sarcasm, ironically missing that they were currently in the place he goes to for alone time. Stanley decided to be polite and not point it out. “When I do come, I stay for as long as I can, of course. It’s my pride and joy, something untouched by the masses and their critiques and altercations! No, this isn’t a work that is meant to be thought about in depth or to be worked through with the prowess of a philosophist, it’s just… Well, nice! Nice for the sake of nice. This kind of fluff wouldn’t do well for a game, there’s not really any tasks to complete here or lessons to learn, but haven’t I done that enough? Yes, I deserve to relax and reflect as much as any other creator!”
Stanley was happy with that answer. He nodded a bit, agreeing with the general idea. It felt familiar and comfortable, to know the Narrator could distance himself from the story and just be. He had done it a handful of times before, but sitting here knowing it wasn’t just a means to a new ending, it was. Ah. Stanley chuckled, raising his hands.
‘For it was not knowledge, or even power, that he had been seeking, but happiness.’
At this, the Narrator practically beamed, laughing blissfully.
“Yes, yes! Exactly, Stanley!!” The voice was next to Stanley, projecting out over the hills beside them. The man glanced over, surprised to see an actual person there. He knew it was the Narrator (Stanley had just heard him, after all) but it was still shocking. Torn between asking a thousand questions and not ruining the moment, Stanley simply gaped at the other man. Trying and failing not to stare, he felt his mind shift into observation mode.
Average, was his first thought. The Narrator looked strikingly average. Not bad looking, far from it, but more normal than he should. Stanley wondered if that was a rude thing to think. His hair was what some would describe as peppery, a deep brown speckled with streaks of gray throughout. It was a short, stylish cut in the front with a small ponytail at the back. A simple outfit, too, just a suit-like jacket over a turtleneck sweater and some slacks. Oh, and the glasses. Large square frames over hazel eyes. Average. Yet, Stanley felt like he was looking at the most interesting person in the world. It was probably because this was the only person he had seen in a long time, surely. Surely.
Picking the worst possible time to notice the silence and shift in mood, the Narrator turned towards Stanley, quirking a brow.
“What is it, Stanley? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” This close, Stanley could almost feel the rumble of his voice, trying not to watch how his lips shaped the words. Coughing into his fist, he gestured vaguely at… all of the Narrator, tilting his head as to indicate a question. The Narrator furrowed his brow, looking down.
“Well, I don’t- OH!” He jolted in his seat, eyes going wide. “Oh, Stanley, uh. I. Hm! Uhhh… huh! I see. I see your shock and I understand. Um.” Chuckling nervously, the Narrator pushed his glasses up, then realized what he had done, almost shoving his hand down. Odd to immediately pick up a mannerism for a body you didn’t know you had, I suppose. Stanley wanted to laugh.
‘You didn’t do it on purpose?’ He signed.
“No, no, of course not! Why would a narrator need a physical presence?!” Shaking his head wildly, he looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fist. “Not necessary. Sure, I’ve thought of it, but I never really had a good enough reason to, not since the narrative is… oh, oh I see. Stanley, because I have decided to temporarily ignore the story and simply relax, my previous regulations have been erased. My actions are not simply driven by logic anymore.” His tone was nervous, wavering slightly. Stanley didn’t see the issue, but he understood the nerves one might feel at things suddenly changing. God knows he’s felt it a few times.
‘Is the view nicer this way?’ Stanley signed meekly, unsure if this was the right thing to say. The Narrator looked incredulous, indicating that well, maybe it was not the right thing to say.
“Is the.. Well.” The Narrator swallowed nothing, turning his head towards the hills. Stanley silently watched the Narrator take in individual details, eyes mapping the movement of his gaze. Occasionally it would flicker back towards Stanley himself, and the man would give a small smile. Stanley decided not to label the way that made his throat tighten. After a few minutes of this, The Narrator had visibly relaxed, humming slightly.
“I suppose it is rather nice.” Mumbling under his breath, he leaned back against the bench. Stanley nodded once, a silent ‘good’. The Narrator continued. “Being here with you, watching the day go by… better than omniscience.” Stanley made a small sound, nodding a touch too quickly. If either of them noticed the blush speckling their cheeks there were no words exchanged about it, a mutual agreement to leave it unspoken.
The mood had turned peaceful once more, birds calling out to each other in chirps and whistles, flying from tree to tree to visit each other. It was almost dreamlike, and Stanley found himself wishing it would never end. What could be better than this? Head turning towards the Narrator, he found that there was at least one thing that could be better.
Stanley gently took the Narrator’s hand, causing the most embarrassing sound Stanley had ever heard the other man make to come out from his throat, like some kind of mix of strangulation and squeaking. Biting the inside of his cheek so as to not laugh at the poor man, he felt his cheeks darken further. Stanley kept his gaze firm forwards and his hand around the other, just loose enough to say that he could let go if he wanted to. The Narrator stammered for a minute, seemingly frozen, before deciding that yeah, this was pretty cool, tightening his grip on Stanley’s hand. Neither dare look at each other, the heat radiating from their conjoined hands saying plenty.
Was his grip too tight? Yeah, very. Stanley would have to stretch his hand after. Were their palms sweaty? Definitely. It was warm enough and they were both nervous and excited enough to make sure of that.
Would he trade it for anything else? Nah.
Stanley felt the other’s thumb rub shyly against his, warming his heart so fully he felt he might pass out. Another time he would be more clear with his intent, let the Narrator know how much he cared for him, how he wished every day could be like this. Right now, he just wanted to close his eyes, breathe in the fresh air and hold his hand.
And Stanley was happy.