Chapter Text
Stanley looked around the room. Was this what he wanted?
No. No, it's not. It's not what he wanted- this isn't a "good ending", despite how happy Narrator seems to be. No, this wasn't Stanley's ending. It was Narrator's.
Why should he be happy? Why does he get to be happy, when Stanley doesn't? When every ending he does ends up in death or disappointment.
Always trapped. Never stopping. Never free.
Why should he listen to the Narrator?
He shouldn't. He knew this. He saw this. And walked out of the room with the lights.
"-where are you going?" Narrator said, worry clear. Stanley will admit, he didn't catch the first part, but he definitely knew Narrator was talking.
Stanley looked straight ahead, not turning back, walking down the hallway. He saw a room at the end. And ran.
He stopped at the entrance of the room. He saw- stairs? Unfinished stairs. With no railing at the top.
"Oh, no! Stay away from those stairs! If you hurt yourself, if you die, the game will reset!" Narrator started on another tangent. Stanley scoffed. Narrator never had a problem killing him in the Countdown ending. Or resetting the game when Stanley was inches away from freedom. "We'll lose all of this!"
....
We'll lose all of this? Or will Narrator lose this? Stanley wanted to fucking punch him.
Narrator didn't care about Stanley, oh, no, of course not! He only cared about himself. About what Narrator wanted. Fuck how Stanley felt!
Stanley glared at nothing in particular as he started to ascend up the stairs.
"Please, no, Stanley, let me stay here! Don't take this from me!"
If Narrator can take away freedom and happiness from Stanley, why can't he do the same?
"Please, Stanley, think about what you're doing!"
Was he thinking? Was he even sane?
He realized he didn't know if he was anymore.
And he reached the top. One more step, that's all it would take.
Through Stanley's blind rage, he still could hear Narrator's shout as he took another step-
"NO!!"
He could feel the wind as he fell. He could see the staircase passing by.
And then, impact. He felt the cold floor.
But no pain.
Stanley could feel his consciousness leaving his mind as he got up once more.
"Oh... thank god. You lived. You had me worried there for a moment. Now, can we please get back to the other room?"
Stanley did not acknowledge Narrator, simply walking towards the staircase again. Like the plead had simply not reached him.
"No! No, no! What are you doing?! Stanley, please I'm asking you not to take this away from me-" you've taken away much more. "I can't go back to what I was before! If you die, we'll both go back! Why are you doing this?!"
Narrator's desperate words had only fueled Stanley. Why didn't Narrator see that? Why didn't he see that Stanley was sick and fucking tired of having happiness and freedom right in front of him- seconds away, even- and having it torn away in the last second. That is what Stanley wanted Narrator to feel.
"Do you just not believe me? What can I say to convince you?"
Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut-
Stanley didn't realize he took the step off the staircase once more.
And, once more, he felt the cold floor, with an absence of pain.
"Stanley... let's go back to the other room... Can you do that for me?"
Stanley always thought Narrator was at least a little... Sadistic, at times, but not absolutely delirious. Stanley would not give up. Not now.
And he walked up the stairs again.
"My god, is this really how much you dislike my game? That you'll throw yourself from this platform over and over to be rid of it?"
He hated everything. Not only Narrator. Not only the looping. But everything. This building, these walls, these fucking doors-
"You are literally willing to kill yourself to keep me from being happy? Am I reading the situation correctly?"
Stanley tried to drown out the Narrator. Ignore his begging, his sadness. Separate himself from his mind.
He tried to ignored the wind in his ears this time.
Stanley was getting quite sick of the cold and numb floor.
"Or maybe you're just getting a kick out of it. I don't know any more. I just wanted us to get along, but I guess that was too much to ask. It looks like you wanted to make a choice after all."
Stanley stood up.
"Well, this one is yours."
His footsteps on the stairs started to sound familiar to him.
"I wanted us to be happy here, Stanley, I really did. I wish I still thought that was possible."
Stanley didn't know whether Narrator had said anything else as he was reaching the top. He was either weirdly silent, or Stanley had reached a level of dissociation that he couldn't hear a word anyone said.
. . .
No. Stanley could still hear the wind.
As he felt the cold ground one last time, he heard the Narrator's final words.
"Is it over? It's going to restart, isn't it. I'm going back..."