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The Narrator was growing tired.
The countless resets of trying to achieve, something, the perfect tale? A new lesson in morality? So maybe at some point The Narrator started remembering all the resets. He didn't want to. Sure, The Narrator would pretend that it was the same as it always was. But you can only see a person, Stanley, break down so completely so many times before You Yourself gain this funny thing called empathy.
Maybe The Narrator should be numb to it, maybe The Narrator's nature is opposed to actual nature and the laws that bind most things and whatnots. But The Narrator, this name is getting pretentious, He also wanted an out. But what was out? As far as He can remember THIS was all there ever was! Was He just some computer? A heartless machine breaking programming that was hard set on one goal? He'd rather think not. As far as He knew this was His domain so if a person he wished, no wanted, no, Needed to be, he'd simply be so.
Another reset.
Stanley walked down into the break room. It was an unusual walk as there was no, well...Him. Quiet. While strange and vaguely unnerving, he'd seen it before and briefly pondered what would await him. Not that it mattered in the end. The 'office worker' wished The Narrator would or maybe could, you can never guess His abilities for certain, make other people exist.
At Stanley's lowest moments, when the loneliness filled his lungs so much that he couldn't breathe, The Narrator could be somewhat comforting and genuinely acted kindly. But Stanley was always quite a physically affectionate guy, or at least felt that he was, so he craved a touch, a pat, dare he say, a hug, so desperately at times it hurt. It felt silly to think that, he thought that perhaps if he was in the real world, whatever that meant, such a remark would be treated as an unmanly sin to commit. Stanley was however not in some guys basement on a Reddit forum but in a literallliteral nightmare of an office job.
With the surprising, but not entirely unwelcome, silence, Stanley planned to take a short nap on one of the couches in the break room. He'd been sleeping whenever given the chance really, sleeping let his imagination run wild and was the only freedom he realistically could get.
Annoyingly, many of said dreams were about said office space and rarely, when not a nightmare about complete lack of substance, they were about Him. Sometimes violence brought on by pent up rage, sometimes peaceful domestic moments where the faceless voice would sit on a silly field on a dumb blanket and share a lovely little picnic with him. If he could, Stanley would never wake up.
The employee was about to do his best to get comfortable on a hard couch after turning a corner when suddenly he froze.
Said couch was already occupied.
Still frozen in place, Stanley took in the man's appearance. Definitely older than him, looked somewhere in his late forties while Stanley himself was still in his mid thirties. With light brown hair streaked with graying strands and glasses that shielded his eyes thanks to the light's reflection. Stanley suspected that if he did see the man's eyes they'd relay the expression his other facial features portrayed. Shock, mirroring Stanley himself.
'Hello Stanley' He finally spoke. Stanley didn't know if he should cry, punch The Narrator in the fact, jump into his arms or simply turn around. It seemed the choice was made for him as tears started streaming down his face as he stood there. ' Oh I don't look that bad do I Stanley? Haha Oh my please don't cry, what's the matter I thought maybe you'd like this? This being me here, actually Here, for a change. '
Still releasing salty water from his optical glands, Stanley finally unfroze and signed back.
/ I just haven't seen a person in s o long /
'Oh Stanley I'm so sorry I know that's simply awful. I'm afraid I only realized I could have this form here now and - *skipping a good two paragraphs of narration by the narrator or well just talking in this case, you're welcome*- So what I'm saying is I'm sorry. My lack of knowledge is not an excuse but uh maybe, since some humans apparently need contact, I could give you a hug? Warning, I don't recall ever hugging anyone so this might be a tad bit awkward-' The Narrator was promptly cut off by Stanley who timely sat beside Him and leaned into the man's opens arms.
'Oh ' He said softly, looking at Stanley so up close and seeing the other man was just as supprised by his own actions as The Narrator. The Narrator felt something hurt in his ribcage at that imagine of the office worker slightly trembling as tears continued to stream down his face. 'There, there Stanley. It's okay, you can let it all out ' He found Himself saying as He rubbed the employee's back, simultaneously pulling him into a tighter embrace. Alarmingly this only made the shorted man cry harder and, hands balled into fists, lightly hit His chest as he attempted to stifle sobs in The Narrator's awful beige sweater vest. Stanley didn't try to pull away .
They stayed like that for the longest while. The Narrator felt an itch at the back of his mind like an uncomfortable feeling that this 'wasted time' wouldn't go unpunished. He ignored that itch in favor of the thought that The Narrator was an awfully pretentious thing to be called, even for him, and that Nickolas has a nice ring to it.
But even with that divided attention, His utmost focus was directed at the sobbing plaid shirt in his arms. He murmured aimless assurances and tried telling little pointless tales until Stanley got still and stopped crying, only to realize the poor thing had fallen asleep and was starting to snore softly into His shirt. Maneuvering to lay down horizontally on the couch with Stanley on top, still in his arms, he whispered
' we'll figure this out together Stanley. I promise you. '
Important conversations were ahead and Nickolas would do His best to not go into too many monologues where possible.
Nickolas could finally get a moment of rest. Maybe He'd wake up less tired.