Together // Narrator x Stanley

They Need Each Other

[TW :: Heavily Implied Suicide (Zending)]

Inspired a bit by What Lies Within Secrets by NovaHeart on AO3!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Stanley stepped up to the door leading into the more important part of his manager's office, staring into the room blankly for a long moment. He wondered what'd happen if... Well, he knew he shouldn't think too much about it. If he did, then the narrator could know what he was planning.

"Stanley? What are you doing down there?" The Narrator asked. Stanley shook his head, nearly feeling bad for the man (was he a man?) after hearing the subtle confusion and even more subtle fear in his voice. The keyword being almost. Stanley stepped forward, wondering if anything would happen. Doors usually closed behind him once he entered a room. The doors creaked, and Stanley barely noticed it before stumbling backward to get out. "Stanl--!" The Narrator's shout was cut off with a short burst of static as the doors closed. Stanley looked up to the roof to see if he'd get some sort of snarky response to the attempt to leave the Narrator behind. There wasn't one... but it also wasn't silent. Behind the doors, Stanley could hear the sound of the Narrator's voice. It was muffled, so Stanley couldn't hear what he was saying. He did sound panicked, though... he didn't sound panicked often. Stanley frowned and tried to force himself not to feel bad. He was free. That's what he wanted, wasn't it?

Stanley walked down the stairs happily, trying to ignore his guilt. It was nice to have no one bossing him around... for a little while. It was fine, great actually. But as Stanley kept walking the silence started to become louder than his own thoughts. It was much too quiet in the parable without the constant nagging of the Narrator. As Stanley decided to take a detour and reached the employee lounge, he found himself wishing for a snarky comment about how long he was taking in there. About how he had gone the wrong way or... something. He couldn't believe it. Did he miss the Narrator? How absurd. Missing the one thing (Stanley knew was rather rude to call the Narrator a thing, but it was just as rude of the Narrator to consider Stanley a pawn in his little story) that had caused him so much annoyance, irritation and complete hatred for the office around him. Stanley felt a pit forming in his stomach. Where is he? While he knew the answer to the question, it didn't stop him from asking it. If the Narrator had as much power as he said he did, why wasn't he here by now? Stanley sat down in a blue chair. It wasn't very comfortable. The cushions were actually quite hard. It was uncomfortable and it didn't make Stanley feel any better about the situation he was in. He stood up and looked around the room, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. He was looking for a distraction from the silence, but he would never admit that. The humming of the soda machine caught Stanley's attention. It was almost comforting somehow. He took a moment to look through his pockets for coins (even if he already knew that he didn't have any) and when he couldn't find them he huffed and rubbed his eyes. It didn't matter, he wasn't really thirsty anyways.

Stanley had decided to keep moving. No point in wishing for something that you had gotten rid of in the first place. He, soon enough, found himself back at his office. It was somehow even quieter now, a soft and mildly irritating electrical buzzing sound replacing the Narrator's voice whenever Stanley even thought about moving. Had that buzzing always been there? He didn't know. It wasn't as comforting as the soda machine was. Stanley stopped at his door. It was closed. Locked. Stanley shut his eyes and leaned his head against the cold door. This was just a waste of time, he realized. Going back. He should have just stayed with the Narrator and he would at least feel less alone. He always felt alone here, which wasn't good because Stanley never functioned well when he was by himself. He often needed support and guidance from others... not like he really got that here from anyone other than the insufferable Narrator. He wished the Narrator would come back and say something. All of this was Stanley's fault though, as much as he hated to admit it. He was the one that trapped the Narrator in his boss's office without thinking about what the consequences of that would be. He left the one companion he had in this place. What was he thinking? He wasn't thinking, was the thing. Why did he feel so helplessly lost without the Narrator here? Stanley gritted his teeth, wanting to stop the endless questions running through his mind. Stanley kicked the door to his office out of pure anger and felt tears well up in his eyes. It was silent again. There was no more buzzing. No Stanley, you're okay. You should be happy that he's gone. You are happy that he's gone. All he's caused you is pain. Yes, that was it. That's why Stanley wanted the Narrator gone. He was the reason why Stanley was killed in some endings and left traumatized from others. Why Stanley was trapped here. It didn't make the loneliness any more bearable, but he knew that it was so much better for him to be without the Narrator. There his thoughts go again. Deciding not to linger on the subject, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Staying calm was the best thing to do now, whether he was lonely or not. At least he was free to do what he wanted. Stanley looked to his right and saw an open door. Room 428. It startled him slightly, making him flinch back and push himself against the wall opposite to the door. As long as Stanley had worked here, he had never seen the door to room 428 open. Ever. He shivered at the light breeze seeming to come out of the dark hall. He didn't know what was inside; no one knew what was in that room. It was pretty much forbidden to talk about (at least for his floor of workers) and there were the typical workplace myths about people talking about it or trying to get a peek inside and just suddenly disappearing. But despite this, after looking around and checking to see if there was someone there the one time he didn't want anyone to see him, Stanley slowly took a few steps inside. It was dark, pitch-black almost. He took a deep breath and, out of habit, looked at the ceiling one more time. There was nothing.