Red or Blue (i love you) | The Stanley Parable

Reflection

Waking up, he shot up from his office chair, the seat squealing as he found himself coming face to face with the monitor he was so familiar with. Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Stanley slapped his hands on his cheeks, the dry residue of his mess gone and replaced with his usual, rough skin. Relief flooded through him, and he found himself chuckling quietly to himself, disbelieving.

He'd done it. He'd kept going until the end, the Narrator's cries long goㅡ

The Narrator!

Rising quickly from his seat, the bearings protesting from the force, he turned to his office door.

It was shut.

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he lifted his hand to grasp the handle, expecting the handle to refuse to lower. Imagine his surprise, when not only did the handle turn with his motion, the door also opened, hinges creaking as he glanced out at the office. Everything looked normal - too normal, even. Stanley was half tempted to just shut the door again and wait it out, maybe process the previous ending, but he found himself becoming uneasy being by himself, and ventured outside.

"All of his coworkers were gone, what could it mean?"

He whirled around at the sound of the Narrator's voice appearing. Scrunching his eyebrows together, Stanley went to sign but before he could do so, he was interrupted by the voice again.

"A soft wind blew outside and perhaps rain started, and if it did it stopped shortly after." They said, emotions Stanley couldn't identify present in their voice, beginning one of the variations Stanley had occasionally heard them say before. "Stanley hoped that he would one day see weather. Maybe one day he'd see the Sun, the light shining upon him as he stared blissfully at the surrounding nature."

What. Shocked and unravelled, Stanley looked to the ceiling as if it would answer him, arms stock still as he took in the Narrator's words. That's different, why is that different?

"Stanley stood for a long time in one spot. It's part of a game. He likes to see how long he can go without dying." The Narrator read, their voice almost like a pin drop as they spoke. There was a sharp, biting undercut to his words as he regarded Stanley, trying to stop the emotions within him from boiling over. It wouldn't do very good to cry or scream right now. He needed to be strong and help Stanley return to normal. "So far he's doing excellent, and if he just stays right where he is, I'm sure he'll keep up that good momentum. Let's observe the genius at work." Stop. Just do what I tell you this time, please.

Stanley couldn't believe his ears, and didn't move for a few moments longer. Relaxing his eyebrows, he brought his hands to his chest, making sure his movements were slow enough for the Narrator to see.

'Are you okay?'

He heard a huff from the other man, and hoped with bated breath that he'd respond to his question. He needed to know.

"Do you think I'm okay, Stanley? Because truthfully, I'm not." The Narrator ground out through clenched teeth, fighting to keep calm despite the fucked up situation. "I just had to watch you jump over, and over, and over as I could do nothing to stop you. So no, I'm not alright Stanley, but there's no need to dwell on it now, it's all in the past! We've reset, just like you wanted, so let's just go and keep moving, no stopping this time!"

'...'

"That is what you wanted, yes?"

He didn't want to answer, but the Narrator had, so it's only fair that he did as well.

'Yesㅡ'

"Great! Then, let's get this show on the road, shall we? Off we go, Stanley, to freedom!"

Stanley tried to refuse but every time he tried to sign to the other man, they interrupted him and kept telling him to just go, and he could do nothing but groan in frustration. He hated when the Narrator got like this, so deep in his thoughts to even consider listening to anyone or anything else. All he could do right now was go through the story, maybe if everything went back to normal, the Narrator would be willing to talk? Nodding to himself, he walked forward with determination, abruptly noting the difference of his gait now that his leg was no longer a mangled piece of flesh. Slapping his cheeks, he removed all thoughts of what had happened to his mind. Despite his terrible reasoning, the Narrator was right - there was no point dwelling on the past.