Stanley parable one shots [requests]

Back to reality P.2 (Misery/ Angst)

Short summary : (this is part 2 of Back to reality) The Narrator admits that he doesn't need Stanley around anymore and abandons him, forcing him back into the real world.
Stanley wakes up to his miserable life and longs for the Narrator and parable again.

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(Here it is, absolute gold. I used specific phrases from journals I wrote documenting some issues, just to hit the spot, and I think it was worth it.

Hope you enjoy the read.)

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He shrugged on the wrinkled shirt he'd worn for the past few days, and the black tie he'd not washed for weeks.
Just before entering through the glass doors, he made sure to put his lanyard over his neck, hanging his Id card covered by a plastic case.

There were real people at his workplace. There were real voices, shuffling of paperwork, whirs of printers.
He was nestled right back into society.
His office looked as normal as it did in the parable, but instead of a giant 427 on the door, there was a small metal plate with the number on it along with Stanley's name. Although the entire place looked the same as the parable, somehow, it was also so different. As much as Stanley wanted to pretend he was back in the parable again, he simply couldn't.

Maybe it was the overwhelming noise, maybe it was how active the place was, maybe it was the fact he had to be working constantly. That's all he ever did here : sitting in front of a computer, his door shut, with only a lamp to brighten the area around him. Once in a while, someone may knock on his door, someone may ask him if he wanted coffee or tell him it was break time.
But there was nothing else.

All people ever did here was small talk, or ask about things to do with work, or have meetings where they would fail at listening to eachother's opinions. It was all so.. annoying.
The office was always busy with things moving this way and that and yet, it was nothing more than a building devoid of meaningful conversation and interaction.

Stanley couldn't take small talk. He didn't understand why people bothered with it.
He wasn't much of a talkative person in general, only able to mutter a pathetic few words before everything disappeared from his head.

' This is the story of a man named Stanley.'
He could almost see himself on the screen, pressing keys while the Narrator talked about his miserable job. He sighed.

"Stanley! It's time for your lunch break!"

Making his way to the employee lounge, his stomach jumped seeing the room with two doors again.
' When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left. '
The words were pulled fresh out of his memory, and he swore he hear each word clearly in his mind.
' This was not the correct way to the meeting room, and Stanley knew it perfectly well. Perhaps he wanted to stop by the employee lounge first, just to admire it. '

Stanley could almost laugh. How much had he done with the Narrator, for him to just fucking dump him at his will? He wanted to be mad, he wanted to shun the Narrator for everything he'd ever done. Yet, he couldn't.
A part of him longed for the presence again, a part of him longed for the company. And it longed so hard, that Stanley could forget their final moments of hatred and pain, as if it were simply a delusion pushed to the back of his mind.

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The door to his apartment shut with a click of the lock - and everything was silent. Darkness and silence consumed him yet again, as it did when he fell, and fell, and fell, sensing his body go limp.. and-
He shrunk down, back sliding against the hard surface of the door. He could hear his own breaths escape softly past his lips, as his eyes stared blankly into the abyss of the hallway. Sometimes, he felt himself blending into the crowd of society, becoming just another human being.

Afterall, he was an otherwise useless figure. Each day was no different from the rest, slowly churning into weeks, and months, and years, just like that. Free time was spent lying on his bed, staring at his ceiling and feeling the word spin around him.
Stanley was a miserable human being.

His steps shuffled the loose tiles on the bathroom floor, clacking them against eachother in the dark. Alone.
The Narrator's view on him had changed so quickly, without him even knowing.
It caught him off guard.
Why?

What made him decide to?
Did the Narrator get bored?
Did the Narrator realise how dejected Stanley truly was?
God.

What happened to the
"You know what, Stanley?, I'm glad you're here."
And
"Ah you're back, Stanley! How wonderful."
What happened to the surprises and the laughing and the running about carelessly?
What was Stanley going to do now?
Who would talk to him? Who would keep him company?

He wanted to be mad. But it was the Narrator's decision after all,
and it's not as if he could do anything about it now.

He fucking hated himself. He hated himself so much. And he fucking hated the Narrator.
He fucking hated how much he missed him.
Because he knew he wouldn't be missed the same way, by someone so cruel.
Yet he hoped the Narrator shared all the grief and all the longing as Stanley had, that he would live forever in regret.
Because maybe then.. maybe then, they'd have a chance of getting along again.

What an ill wish.
Was he going insane?
Hopeless. He was hopeless.

His reflection showed nothing but the gleaming white of his eyes, reflecting off the cold light from his bedroom window, yet he could already see his pathetic self in it : grief stricken and lonely.

This was never bound to have a good ending, this was a tragedy.

And he had lived through every second of it.

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(The ability to communicate specific feelings through writing is insane. Just stating them in text can lead to writing that truly conveys proper, in depth emotions, while I don't even know how.
I am proud of parts written in this entire book which does that perfectly and hope to understand it as we go along.

Thank you for reading.)