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As much as he loved to insult, taunt, and occasionally blow up his protagonist, the Narrator had to admit that Stanley was, in a word, fascinating.
When he had first created the man, he had never planned on him gaining consciousness or a mind of his own- much less a completely opposite personality from his. It was infuriating, in the beginning, and there were a few instances in which the Narrator considered scrapping Stanley altogether, and starting anew with somebody else- somebody who would actually listen. Somebody who would follow the script.
But, as the- years? Decades? Centuries?- ticked by, he found himself growing used to Stanley, and a genuine appreciation for his wayward protagonist started to grow.
There then came a time- the Narrator had tried to pinpoint exactly when, but found that it was near impossible- when that appreciation shifted into something deeper. Stronger.
Emotion buzzed in the Narrator’s chest when Stanley would smile. Seeing the brunet’s eyes light up, delight washing over his features from the joy of a new ending, a success where there once was failure. As more time passed, the Narrator noticed- a part of him wondered if it was just the infatuation warping his perception- Stanley would smile whenever the Narrator would laugh or congratulate him. This smile was softer, almost private- it felt too hopeful to call it fond.
The Narrator loved that smile.
It had taken a while for the Narrator to come to terms with it. Him? Out of any and all beings, he had to fall for Stanley? Preposterous. The stubborn office worker contradicted his every word, he was nonsensical and irrational and selfish. And he wore the same dull clothes every day, and he tried to comb his hair only for it to fall back into its natural fluffy state, and he had rich brown eyes that shone and twinkled under dim lighting or in the starry dome of the Zending, and he could say the sweetest things when he really wanted to, and…
Oh god, he was in love with Stanley.
Which is how the Narrator found himself in a predicament. Though he had a body, his biggest attribute was his voice. The Narrator had to live up to his title, after all. Proper diction was required for a story as grand as the Parable, the correct cadence and timing positively crucial.
Even before the realization hit him, the Narrator would often think of things he’d want to say to the man. Insignificant things, normally observations of the man’s quirks and certain behaviors, opinions on his protagonist that were not story-related. As time passed and his affection towards Stanley grew, the small quips became little compliments- not that he would ever, ever share them with the brunet, not unless they could be interpreted as totally platonic or absent of any feeling whatsoever.
Things like “Good job Stanley! It is a pleasure seeing you follow directions for once,” were on the table. Anything akin to “Stanley, you probably can’t see it because there’s no functioning mirrors in the Parable, but you’ve got the cutest little curl right next to your left ear and it’s making you look even more adorable than usual. Also I’m head over heels in love with you and it’s crushing me that you’ll never reciprocate,” were 100% off the table. They weren’t in the same room or the same house as the table, maybe not even the same planet.
The Narrator came up with an idea during one run, when Stanley was messing around in the lounge, a mischievous grin plastered on his lips. He could tell Stanley these loving thoughts and observations- Stanley just couldn’t hear them. Triumphant, the Narrator pressed the Mute button on his microphone, testing it since he’d never had a reason, previous to now, to use the feature.
He actively disliked the office worker being unable to hear him, whether it was voluntarily or not (okay, he might’ve hated the ‘not’ option a little less, since it wasn’t Stanley’s choice to ignore), but this was a necessity. If the Narrator didn’t get these feelings out, there was a good chance that they’d just build and build and build, until they were released at an inopportune, inappropriate moment, and Stanley would surely reject him if that were to happen.
Ugh. Again, why did he have to fall for Stanley ? It was crushing him.
“Testing. Hello, Stanley? Can you hear me? I think I’ve muted myself, but I’m just checking.” The being didn’t have to do this, since the light on his mike had switched from green to red as soon as he hit the switch, but he might as well.
The office worker didn’t respond, continuing to dig under the couch cushions, looking for something he probably wasn’t going to find, whatever it was. There was no sign that he’d heard him. Good.
Clicking the mike back on, the Narrator cleared his throat. Stanley glanced up- confirming that he hadn’t been ignoring the Narrator before. Very good.
“Oh, don’t mind me, Stanley, I’m just working on something. Though, now that I’ve got your attention, let’s move on from here and continue the story. There’s some new content I think you may like…”
Throughout the entire run, the Mute button, and his unspoken words of affection, stayed put in the back of the Narrator’s mind.
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“...and god, the way your skin seems to glow under these vibrant lights- Stanley, you’re going to be the death of me, and I’m not sure I can even die. You’re absolutely effervescent, my love.”
The Narrator mumbled into his mike- the mike that was not picking up any sound. He watched his protagonist below, who was reclining under the soft, luminous orbs in the Zending. They came to a mutual agreement to manually reset once Stanley wanted to leave, in order to avoid any… gruesome outcomes.
The setting encompassed the two. The Narrator felt warm and safe here, and Stanley seemed to share his love for the colorful patterns. It was a soft and comfortable scene, and the Narrator had been hit with a wave of care for the human that was so strong, he practically choked, before pressing the Mute button once again.
So here he was, murmuring sweet nothings that would fall upon deaf ears. Eyes never straying from the lights and his Stanley, who lay with his hands under his head, reds and greens and blues reflected in his half-lidded gaze.
“so, so gorgeous…” he muttered, cheek resting in one palm. At first, it felt awkward, talking to Stanley without really talking to him. Now, the sentences flowed without much thought- and when it comes to the Narrator, doing anything without much thought was a feat in itself.
That’s when the Narrator’s elbow, which had been resting on his desk, shifted slightly, and he knocked a pile of papers off of his desk. They scattered all over the floor, and whilst they hadn’t been well-organized to begin with, now it would be basically impossible to have everything in order.
Biting back a curse, the Narrator ducked under his desk, shuffling the papers together into a haphazard rendition of their original state. Putting a hand on the top of the desk to push himself up, the Narrator accidentally pushed down on something that wasn’t smooth hardwood- he dismissed it, adjusting his grip till it moved off of the offending object, and straightened up, placing the notes on the opposite end of the desk.
He sighed, grateful that Stanley hadn’t heard his blunder, and went back to watching the brunet. The office worker seemed focused, his eyebrows furrowing the slightest bit before going back to peacefully watching the lights.
The Narrator hummed, gaze practically heart-filled as his thoughts filled with love once again.
“Oh, Stanley… I wish I could tell you how beautiful you look right now.” The Narrator’s eyes fluttered shut, and still the image of Stanley was seared into his eyelids. “God, I’m so glad we can just stay here together, you and I… I wouldn’t mind spending forever like this, love.”
Eyes still closed, the Narrator continued, unaware of Stanley’s rapidly-growing blush and gaping mouth, complete shock shown on his features. “It would be so wonderful to be able to physically meet you… I wish I could hold you, maybe kiss those sweet lips of yours, if you’d allow me. You’re so magnificent, Stanley. We could explore the Parable together; I doubt I’d even mind you diverging from the story- well, I wouldn’t mind as much, anyways.” A quiet chuckle. “I’m sure you’d like it, actually.”
Finally, the Narrator opened his eyes, and was taken aback by the sight of Stanley standing up, a heavy blush visible even in the darkness of the Zending, staring at the ceiling. He gasped, glancing down at his microphone to see the light blinking green.
Oh no. Oh no no no no.
Holding his hands over his mouth, the Narrator started internally panicking, determined to not let a single sound slip. He was an idiot. God, he had just said so much- Stanley thought he was a creep now, that he was a total weirdo, and he’d be angry, or worse, would just ignore the Narrator. Maybe he’d purposefully go through the most painful endings as punishment- the Skip Button flashed through his mind for an instant, and the Narrator started almost hyperventilating (though he didn’t really need air), his eyes pricking with tears.
Risking a look at the man, the Narrator’s brain, his thoughts, the great cacophony that had risen ever so quickly, instantly slammed on the breaks at the sight of Stanley’s signing.
[I love you.]
It was just one sign, and yet the Narrator was dumbfounded. It was him who was now slack-jawed; the great and powerful Narrator, buffering like a computer because of Stanley. All because of one man- his face was burning, and it felt like systems shutting down and being restarted at the same time.
What felt like hours passed as he stared, comprehension returning bit by bit, though it was probably closer to a couple of minutes.
“Uh- you- did I-” Sentence fragments sputtered their way out of the Narrator’s mouth, as his brain slowly started catching up with itself. “Did I… read that correctly, Stanley?”
The man nodded, and- oh God, he was smiling that soft smile, looking all pretty under the still-glowing orbs. The Narrator physically felt himself melt, slumping back against his chair and exhaling a breath that he had held for what was probably longer than humanly possible. Whatever. He wasn’t human anyways.
“I’m- I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Stanley. I promise I was going to tell you sometime…”
Stanley shook his head affectionately. [You did sort of throw me for a loop, but it’s okay. Although… this was so out of the blue, when did-]
“I…” The words felt stuck in the Narrator’s throat, partially because of shame, and partially because Stanley was still smiling like that.
“I’ve been saying things to you- well, you haven’t been able to hear them, obviously, I’ve had my microphone muted, and telling you things… that I was too cowardly to say out loud. I couldn’t bear the thought of you rejecting me, Stanley, and you’ve made it very difficult for me to not fall in-”
A loud, fake cough, and now Stanley had begun smirking, looking caring and amused at the same time. “-for me to not feel affection towards you, beyond what was considered mere friendship.”
Stanley giggled. [I mean this in a positive way, but you’re kind of an idiot.]
“Wha- how is that statement positive?! An idiot? Why would you-”
[I haven’t finished.]
“Oh. Well, I’m not sure I want you to continue, if that was your opener…”
[What I was going to say is that you’re kind of an idiot- I’ve loved you for… well over a hundred resets, I think, and you’re telling me you haven’t noticed?]
“You-” Once again the Narrator was at a loss for words. “You mean to tell me that for a hundred runs, you’ve been- you’ve felt the same?”
A nod. The Narrator felt like disintegrating, curling in on himself until he ceased to exist. He really was an idiot. He could’ve been telling these things to Stanley out loud for forever now, instead of hunching over in his cramped office, whispering into a muted mike.
[Hey, don’t beat yourself up for it. I didn’t realize you liked me back, so I guess we’re both kinda dumb.] Stanley was still grinning. The Narrator huffed, embarrassment slowly washing away as a suffocatingly happy feeling filled his insides, his own expression stretching into a smile.
“Yes, that would seem to be the case…” the Narrator hummed once more, stretching back in his chair before relaxing, looking at the man before him- the man who had inspired the Narrator to write something beautiful, just for him. It was the Stanley Parable, after all.
“Would you like to go back to looking at the lights, dear?” The term of endearment fell easily from the Narrator’s lips- it felt right, referring to his beloved so sweetly. The grin never dropped from Stanley’s lips as he settled back down.
[I’d love to, darling.]
The Narrator felt like his heart was going to explode, but powered through it. “I’m glad,” he purred, voice low. “You look so lovely, Stanley…”
And they laid like that, the Narrator speaking words of praise and worship to his protagonist, as centuries and millennia passed by. It was nothing to the two beings, wrapped so warmly in their love.