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Stanley was happy.
For the first time in a while, they actually believed their own words. Stanley truly was happy, and with them, of all things! Why was that, they wonder?
It wasn’t exactly a… conventional, so to say, partner. Most times it stuck to being ’just a voice’, as the human once put it. That was before he knew it had a corporeal-ish form, it was aware, but still it stayed omnipresent most times.
That way, it had connection to the Parable. It could know what was happening, what changed, or what stayed the same, what happened where. It had more control that way.
Yet Stanley was still so kind, and patient, and- just-
Oh, he was getting lost in thought again, he realises, when Stanley kicks at the vending machine in the employee lounge to get his attention.
”Yes, yes, sorry, I’m- I’m listening. What was that?” He asks, shuffling his invisible papers around.
[Are you okay?] Stanley questions, tilting his head in an endearing manner.
Oh dear. This man would be the death of them.
”Yes, Stanley, I’m fine. Simply… thinking, is all.”
The office worker smirks slightly.
[That’s never good]
They huff dramatically, shifting their immediate presence around the room as a distraction.
”Ha ha, very funny Stanley. Truly, the height of comedic genius. One that’s never been achieved, or even thought of before. I should give you a medal.”
In a moment, they manifest said object in front of him. He reaches for it, and just as his hand is a hair away, they make the golden coin on a string disappear. This makes the human huff.
”You asked for it.” It’s voice is amused now.
Stanley stomps his foot, gesturing at the place the floating object was just a moment ago, vigorously, expectantly.
It doesn’t give in, simply staying silent.
With a huff, Stanley moves on to do… whichever ending he was aiming for now.
Narrator watches with intense curiosity as the ’anger’ leaves the man’s frame while he walks, until not a smidge is left visible on his features, or in his mind.
He finds it intriguing, human emotions. Such little things, in retrospect, yet they have such a grand effect on the nature of people. Anger, happiness, sadness, love, all of them can get mixed together to create odd, anomalous combinations. And they all might influence choice, he’s learnt.
For example, when Stanley was happy, he tended to go to endings that made him happier, like Freedom, Broom Closet or Games ending, as bizarre as the latter one was.
Or, when he was mischievous, he tended to disobey Narrator as much as he could, purely to spite him it seems. Though there was always something more beneath it after the thousandth run or so. Now he knew what it was.
And it baffled him. Can a man love a voice? Truly, utterly, love?
Stanley has expressed as much. He gives it compliments, words of affirmation, and, if it happens to be corporeal, physical affection. These were all signs of love, right?
On the other hand, it’s research has shown a multitude of times humans are far more complicated than that. It cannot simply be the surface-level understanding, can it? There has to be something more, surely.
But it is! With Stanley it is! So why was his mind so set on making everything difficult?
”Stanley? May we…” They hesitate.
The office worker, who was about to pick up the phone, pauses, then waits. So patient, so, so patient.
”May we do the Bench ending?” They finish.
Stanley nods, motioning to the phone in a questioning manner.
”No, no, we can finish this one first. Ahem.”
They were told they could ask for things, which logically, they knew already, but that really helped with their confidence in these things. They always felt like they were holding him down, somewhat, before that conversation.
That’s another thing, they realise, he’s taught them. Like helping them with recognising their own emotions.
Like how the heaviness in his nonexistent shoulders, and the pit in his nonexistent stomach was anxiety. Or how the warmth, the adoration he felt when looking at the man was happiness, and love. Or how the emptiness, the void, was sadness.
He really did help it with that. It was still getting used to all these… feelings, but it was trying, and getting better, and Stanley was as supportive as he’s ever been.
This whole… human thing. It was… well. They wanted to say bothersome, but that’s not quite the correct description for it. Odd? No, that’s not right. Maybe… hm… a lot. They really didn’t have more words for it than ’a lot’ right now.
It was… It was overwhelming, sometimes in the best of ways, making them want to drown in the positives of life. And sometimes, they felt like tearing the entire Parable apart because of it. It was an extreme they weren’t used to, not yet.
But Stanley. Oh, Stanley was so patient, and kind, and caring, and loving, and supportive, and, and, and!
Ah, there it was again. Love. Such a warm, pleasant, overwhelming feeling, this one.
THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE END
Narrator summoned itself into the corporeal form.
The white void with a black outline, and minor details to the face, was just inhuman, and human enough for both of them, it found. It waited at the door to the ending it’s created.
Stanley enjoyed the weather in there for a good fifty resets in a row, which was perfectly fine for it.
Now, they could feel it was sunny behind the door leading outside, with a soft, gentle wind, and birdsong filling the air. They’re really glad they took the time to program the creatures, they’ve grown fond of them, not matter how messy they might be.
They felt Stanley calmly move through the according doors, up, down through a ramp, and now they heard the tapping as he descended the final staircase.
”Hello, Stanley.” They greet with a smile.
He waves in response, walking over, and opening the door. He gestures for Narrator to go first. They do.
As soon as the pleasant wind and sun come into contact with it, it relaxes slightly. It hears footsteps, and the next moment there’s a hand squeezing it’s own. It startles a little at first, then squeezes back, beginning to walk.
They wonder if they could maybe make a place to rest. Walking all the time seems like a chore for the present moment. Another bench? No, no, that would be too confusing.
A blanket! A blanket on the grass! There’s an idea he’s fond of.
The two of them continue walking, first down the set path to the bench, then Narrator starts to lead Stanley to where they put the blanket. The man is clearly somewhat confused, but follows without any resistance.
When the blanket came into view, the usually omnipresent being slowed down, suddenly uncertain of the idea for some reason. Sure, they’d made it red with white hearts, but that was okay, right?
It stops completely a few paces away, looking to Stanley for a reaction.
When the human notices the blanket he lights up with joy, turning to them with a bright smile.
[Did you make it?] He asks.
”I manifested it, yes.” Is the reply.
[Cute]
Narrator flusters at this, feeling warm all over again. He gets dragged over to the blanket.
Stanley lets go of their hand, sitting down and making himself comfortable, before mentioning to the space in front of him.
[Sit with your back to me?] He makes sure to phrase it like a question.
It hesitates a moment, but does just that. He wraps his arms around it slowly, giving it plenty of time to protest. When it doesn’t, he embraces their torso, and starts to lean back, also slowly.
They simply go along with it, confused, but willing. Soon enough they’re laying on Stanley’s chest, him holding their waist loosely. They feel a kiss being pressed to their head, making them fluster more.
Yet still, they smile. This was nice.
He makes sure to voice as much.
”Stanley, what is this? It feels… very pleasant.”
The man spells with one hand.
[Cuddling. This okay?]
They relax into the touch, closing their eyes with a pleased sigh.
”Yes. Very much so.”
They feel his chest rumble as he chuckles, and one of his hands idly traces patterns on the side of their waist. After a while more of this, they find themselves giving a noise akin to purring, which gets another chuckle from the man, and more flustering from them.
This is nice, he thinks. He could stay like this forever.
Narrator was happy.
Until he wasn’t.
His mind, in the midst of focusing on the physical contact, has decided to veer into… distasteful territory.
Oh dear. They haven't thought about that before. Not in this context, at least.
Would… would Stanley want… that?
Well, he’s a human, of course he’s bound to have certain urges, desires, and… they’re not sure they can be of any help at all. Not in that way…
Surely he wouldn’t…. Well, they know he wouldn’t force them, but… would he be unhappy? They don’t want to make him unhappy.
But the thought of… it makes them flinch.
Stanley, due to the fact they’re literally laying on him, notices this. He leans over their shoulder, giving a questioning look.
”I- ehm… well… I… I was thinking.” It says.
This doesn’t seem to explain anything to the man, as he continues to give it that same expression, squeezing it’s chest tighter for a moment in reassurance. Oh, he was so good to them…
”Do you… I mean… Are… Is…”
It groans in annoyance at not being able to properly say the words it wants to say. Why did it’s voice betray it in the most important of moments.
It takes a few deep breaths, focusing on Stanley’s presence to calm down.
”We are… what people would call ’in a relationship’, yes?” It questions.
Stanley hums in confirmation, the sound reverberating through their corporeal form pleasantly.
”Well… uhm. People in relationships usually… show affection.” They cut themselves off closing their eyes.
They open when Stanley taps on their shoulder, then starts spelling words.
[What do you mean? We show affection]
”Yes, yes, I know. But I mean- As in- well. More… intimately.” They grit the last word out.
There’s a pause, and they fight the urge to fidget nervously. After a few seconds they stop fighting it, wringing their hands together in a practiced manner. The motion that usually helps calm them down doesn’t do much now though, which is despairing.
Stanley sits up, shifting the two of them around to be facing one another, and looks into Narrator’s eyes. They quickly look away, at the ground.
The office worker tilts it’s head back up with his hand, face soft and so fun of love it almost makes it forget about the whole thing.
It doesn’t though.
When Stanley seems confident they won’t look away, he starts to sign.
[Would you want that?]
There’s a crease in his brow, despite the fond expression. They wonder why.
Then the question hits home.
”No, no no no, not at all actually, I-” They slap a hand over their mouth, eyes widening.
They wanted to let this be known slowly, not spring it out of the blue like this! Oh no, what have they done, was Stanley going to be okay?
He’s smiling. That was good, right?
[That’s okay. I don’t either]
They freeze. What?
”Stanley, what? How can you say that?! I mean, you’re human, you ought to have these… urges. It’s not… I’ve not ever heard… It doesn’t-”
He’s stopped with a kiss on the forehead, that makes embarrassing lines appear on his face. He waits for Stanley to back up, which takes a surprising amount of time, and when he does, Narrator is baffled at the soft expression on his face.
[I don’t want that, ever. Read my mind]
They perk up in shock at the sincerity that emanates from the statement, then further at the emotions surrounding the topic in Stanley’s head.
They’re similar to it’s own, though less intense, much, much less. The fact remains though, that it recognises them from it’s own experience, it’s own feeling of those… well. Feelings.
Tears spring to their eyes at this. He was telling the truth. Stanley was telling them the truth.
The office worker leans forward, placing his forehead against theirs, and cupping their face in his hands. The motion is so gentle, so full of love. It’s overwhelming, this time in the best of ways. They want to drown in this feeling.
Stanley kisses them.
It’s a wonderful feeling, so similar yet so different from all the other times he’s done this. It was never like this, and they think they understand why so many romance novels focus on this one, specific moment, why so many of them put so much value into it.
It wants to stay like that, in that moment, but Stanley backs away after a few minutes.
They must look really ’pouty’, since he laughs.
[Air] He signs.
Ah, right. Humans need to breathe. He forgets about that sometimes.
”Could you maybe… do that… again?” He asks, shyly.
Stanley laughs again, then complies.
And The Narrator was happy.