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“Go get ‘em!” Stanley was not expecting this. He’d only wanted to have a little fun, mess with the Narrator, and prolong the actual completion of the story. He hadn’t even noticed he could go back up the elevator before, and the realization that doing so irritated the Narrator was all the motivation he needed to make him go continuously up and down. He hadn’t expected the Narrator to set up… all this. He took a deep breath, looking around. Anything to prolong this. The Narrator had said he was proud of him, and had sounded… really sincere. Stanley took another deep breath, and walked onto the stage.
Immediately he was practically blinded by the lights and sounds, and was hit with the realization that there were people there. Lots and lots of people. How on Earth did they get here? Where did they come from? How did the Narrator get them all in here? He stood frozen at the entrance, surrounded by the sound of cheers and hollers and whistles from the crowd. It was loud, far too loud. He forced his legs to walk up to the podium, his steps slow and shaky. All he had to do was talk about the elevator. That was all he had to do. He tried clearing his throat as he walked towards the podium, desperately hoping his voice would work for once. Why had the Narrator set this up? He knew Stanley didn’t talk. He knows this, so why did he do this? How long was he setting this up for?
Stanley forced his legs to walk. He had to be strong, he just had to talk to what might be hundreds or thousands of strangers on a stage with all sorts of bright, blinding lights focused directly on him. Stanley’s breath hitched. He had reached the podium. He stood there awkwardly, sweat dripping off of him. The light was bright. Too bright. Too loud. He wrung his hands, and took several shallow breaths in an attempt to calm his nerves. He opened his mouth to speak.
All that came out of his mouth was an odd, cough-like sound. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t. The lights were suddenly all he could see, and his vision was overtaken by how bright it was. He couldn’t take it. Tears in his eyes, Stanley suddenly bolted backwards. It was just way too much, and he ran back to the dressing room as fast as he could.
The Narrator’s voice was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear it. Everything was just too loud, and his head felt groggy. Tears filled his vision, and he found himself curled up on the bottom steps of the stairs that lead up to the horrible crowd. His eyes were clamped shut as tears poured out effortlessly, wretched sobs shuddering through him. He could still hear the Narrator, but the words sounded jumbled. He could have sworn it sounded like he was yelling at him before, but now his voice just sounded… concerned, maybe even scared. He didn’t blame him.
Everything was still loud. He was away from the crowd now, why is everything still so loud?! He wanted to scream, so badly did he wish to scream his lungs out and curse out the Narrator and yell and make so much noise, anything to drown out how much he was experiencing every single one of his senses on high, but he couldn’t. He was suddenly hyper aware of the way his sleeves were digging against his arms. The way his shirt collar sat uncomfortably against his neck. He could hear that the Narrator was talking to him, and he wanted to drown out that sound too. He could hear his own unsteady, quick breathing. He could hear and feel his own heart, sounding as if it would beat right out of his chest. He could hear the gentle roar of the crowd. Probably wanting him to go back there. He could feel his already racing heartbeat quicken at the thought.
“...anley! Stanley! Are you alright?!” The Narrator. Stanley could just barely hear him, and decided to focus in on him. His voice was relatively grounding, after all. Familiar. Stanley buried his head in his knees, shaking. He slowly shook his head.
“Ah, alright, so you can hear me. That much is good. But, um, Stanley, are you alright? You just ran away! Good lord did you have me worried!... Are you alright?” His voice had a soft edge to it, as if he were worried Stanley could break at any moment. Stanley supposed that was an accurate assumption. Stanley lowered his head a little bit, shoulders still shaking. He could hear the Narrator make a noise, one he could probably either prescribe to a failed attempt at comforting him, or pity. Stanley thought for a moment about if there’s a difference between the two.
“Stanley, I really didn’t mean to overwhelm you or anything like that! It wasn’t my intention at all! Oh goodness, I really should’ve asked for your permission before doing all that… Stanley, could you try breathing with me for a moment?” Stanley sat still and motionless, not counting the occasional shuddering. “I read somewhere that this can help calm you down. Now Stanley, I’ve never really tried this out before so if it doesn’t work then it isn’t my fault. So, let’s just try it, alright?”
The Narrator began to breathe, deep and slow. Stanley listened to him, still shaking with silent tears. What’s the worst that could happen? Stanley thought to himself. He decided to try it. He took in a long, shaky breath in unison with the Narrator. He held it in for a few moments, and then breathed out. They repeated this for a few minutes, Stanley steadily regaining his composure.
Stanley began to raise his head slightly when, behind the blur of tears, he saw… a person. His breathing stopped mimicking the Narrator’s, and his brow furrowed. What in the world? The Narrator seemed to notice Stanley’s sudden change in mood.
“Stanley, is something the matter? You’ve stopped.” Stanley reached a hand up to clear his eyes of tears, and squinted. There was definitely a man there. A short, older man with glasses and a very concerned look on his face. His expression was one full of complete worry, the man not even trying to hide it. He didn’t seem to be looking directly at Stanley, though it was hard to tell from the fogged up glasses he wore. Stanley sat up straighter, and blinked a few times.
The stranger in front of him was dressed in a beige cardigan over top of an off-white button up. He wore a frankly cartoonish looking belt, and what seemed to be khakis and fancy leather shoes. The man’s entire being practically screamed concern. His facial expression was one of complete unmasked sympathy. Stanley might have even felt bad for the man if he wasn’t so focused on figuring out how the hell he got in.
“Stanley, what are you staring at? Is everything alright?” The Narrator asked Stanley in a small voice, and as he did so Stanley immediately realized who the man in front of him was, considering his mouth moved right along with the words. Stanley’s eyes shot open at the sight. So this was the Narrator? Why was he only showing up now?
‘Is that you?’ Stanley signed, hands still slightly shaking. The Narrator stiffened slightly.
“What do you mean ‘Is that you’, who else would I be? Are there any other narrators you’re talking to?” The Narrator lightly chuckled at his own joke, but immediately dropped the expression. “No but seriously Stanley, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
‘You have a body’, Stanley signed, and then pointed at the Narrator for emphasis. The Narrator went silent. He looked down at himself and, after a few seconds, yelped dramatically.
“What in the?! Stanley, how did this..?! Stanley this, this isn’t supposed to happen!? I didn’t mean to..!?!? Stanley, how–” He cut himself off, and just stared awkwardly at Stanley. “Ahem, uhm, well this has certainly happened! So sorry about that, it was probably something emotion-related, I think? It hasn’t happened in quite some time. Erm, so sorry about this Stanley, I’ll just…” Suddenly the Narrator seemed to get an idea.
“Hold on just a moment there! Stanley, as coincidental as this is, I just realized that I can properly comfort you in this state!” He walked over to Stanley and smiled softly. “Would you like it better if I comforted you in person?”
Instead of responding like a normal person, Stanley immediately grabbed him and yanked him into a hug. And it was a very tight hug, if the Narrator’s grunt from the impact was anything to go off of. Stanley didn’t care, though. He was touch-starved and needed the sensation of another person very badly, even if said person probably wasn’t even a person in the first place.
Holding onto each other, Stanley cleared his throat, and rasped out a deep, harsh cough. Finally, he was able to actually say anything. He hoped his words were still recognizable, it’d be a shame to go through all that just to have the Narrator only hear a weird, choked out sob.
“Why did you think this was a good idea?” Stanley whispered in a hoarse voice directly into the ear of the Narrator, sending a chill up the latter’s spine. “It’s just been us two, alone, for who knows how long, and you suddenly throw me out in front of a crowd? What were you thinking? That I would just take it in stride?” As he spoke, his voice rose ever so slightly in volume as he tightly gripped the Narrator’s back. The tears were returning, and he openly sobbed into the Narrator’s shoulder.
The older of the two rubbed Stanley’s back in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He was never any good at human interaction and was silently hoping he wasn’t screwing this up somehow. The Narrator sighed, he really felt horrible about this. He didn’t know what to say that could possibly make Stanley feel better, but he wasn’t going to just leave him in silence!
“I’m sorry,” the Narrator muttered to the back of Stanley. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..” He didn’t know how to put into words just how sorry he was, so instead he took to repeating the phrase over and over and over again. He made sure to keep his voice as low as it could get. Stanley had just been crying after all, and he didn’t want to give the poor boy a headache now did he? Instead, he whispered the sentence again and again in a hopefully comforting way. He knew he messed up, and there was nothing he could do to take that back. It was his fault through and through, and he’d do anything to prevent this from happening now that he knew the outcome. All he could do was try to provide comfort the best he could.
“I’m sorry Stanley, I’ll never do anything like that ever again.” He uttered, and quickly realized the irony of that statement. There was no way to guarantee the validity of that statement. He knows how the parable works, and he knows that if Stanley uses the elevator like this again he’ll have no choice but to break his word. The only thing he could possibly imagine that could change it was if he brought that bucket along with him.
The Narrator let the thought linger. He doubted Stanley would repeat this one without the bucket, so he decided to make the Bucket Version significantly less overwhelming. Yes, he could already see the plot forming itself in his mind. Of course though, he had bigger matters to attend to first.
The two of them stayed in the embrace for a long time, a comfortable silence washed over them. Eventually, Stanley sighed and let go slightly, signaling for the Narrator to do the same. The Narrator sat down next to Stanley on the step, and let out a sigh.
“I really am sorry, Stanley. I don’t know what got into me, I suppose I just wasn’t really thinking. It completely slipped my mind that you’re unable to really, well, talk, somehow. I really am so so so sorry, Stanley. I didn’t intend on this to happen at all.” The Narrator was looking down at his knees, unable to face Stanley. Stanley put a consoling hand on his back, silent. The Narrator couldn’t see it, but Stanley was looking at him with an unreadable expression, but it definitely had a wave of fondness to it.
“...Are you ready for a restart, Stanley?” The Narrator glanced over to look at him. “I know I sure am. Maybe we can do the Games Ending and play a nice game of sportsball? I could try and boot up the old Minecraft server again. And if that doesn’t sound appealing to you, I might even let you hang out in that horrid broom closet for as long as you deem necessary.” Stanley smirked a bit at that, and the Narrator had a feeling he’d regret offering him that later. But for now, he was too busy focusing on cheering him up
‘Narrator?’ Stanley signed to him.
“Hm, yes? What is it, Stanley?” The Narrator turned to him, his mouth at a perfect placement wherein he could easily switch between a smile or a frown depending on the nature of his inquiry.
‘Thank you. I’m still a bit upset but thank you for making me feel better. I really appreciate it. Also, you look like a nerd.’ The goofy smile forming on the Narrator’s face instantly dropped, and he gasped. He held a hand up to clutch his chest as if he had been shot, and had quite the offended look on his face. Stanley couldn’t help but laugh, and the sight of it made the Narrator smirk a bit, despite his best efforts to stay mad. The Narrator smiled, and closed his eyes.
And Stanley was back in his office, in a significantly better mood than he was about half an hour ago.