Welcome To The Dollhouse ~Style fan fiction~ {Complete}

26

Two days later, I'm fully hydrated and back to full health according to Shelly. She's even letting me out of my room to escape the trashy movies Annie gave me, but not for too long in case I get tired and have to go back to bed.

Stan's confession really shocked me. I mean, everyone in here was saved? Surely there was a better way to handle it than kidnapping everyone, but at least we're all safe now.

"So, Kyle," Stan says as we walk towards his office together, "I've rescued another boy. It was hard, but he's here. Wanna meet him?"

"Sure." I nod.

Instead of walking to his office like we'd originally planned, we walk towards the dark room where I woke up.
I'm carrying a small chess set and he's carrying a plastic bag full of wigs and little dresses.

"He's calmer than you," Stan tells me, "you bit me when you came in here."

He rolls up his shirt sleeve and shows me a bite mark, which still looks like it's healing.

"Shit, that looks bad, sorry." I rub the back of my neck awkwardly.

"It's fine," Stan shrugs, rolling his sleeve down again, "my sister said it's not infected or anything. I'm just glad you didn't do the same thing in my office."

I blush at the thought of what we did, almost wishing it could happen again.
I shake my head, trying to remove the thoughts as if my brain is an Etch-A-Sketch.

Stan unlocks the door to the room and gestures for me to walk inside. He follows me in and shuts the door behind him.

Instead of being completely dark, the room is lit up by a large scented candle in the middle of the room. It smells like chocolate which immediately makes me hungry.

Sat in the middle of the room behind the candle is the boy from the photographs.
He isn't knocked out like I thought he'd be, but he's bruised, bloody and has a busted lip. He's wearing a white shirt and grey jeans, just like me. He must be using my closet.

"Oh, uh, hi, sirs." He greets us nervously, rubbing his knuckles together.

Stan sits down beside him and takes the chess set from me.

"Do you play chess?" He asks, setting up the pieces. The boy shakes his head, "it's a fun game. I'll teach you how to play if you want."

"Sure." The boy shrugs.

I sit down across from them. Stan starts telling him the names of each piece and how they move across the board, but the boy's eyes are on me.

"Hi, I'm Kyle." I give him a small wave.

"I'm Leopold, but everyone calls me Butters," he returns the small wave, "except my dad. He calls me a disappointment to the family."

I laugh, but he doesn't.
Shit. That wasn't a joke. God damnit, Kyle.

"Kyle, why don't you shut the fuck up?" Stan asks politely, "Butters is still a little shaken up from last night. We had to get him at one am because his dad took something too far."

Butters bites his lip and nods. He moves a piece on the chessboard, but judging by the look on Stan's face he moved it incorrectly. Stan doesn't say anything about it though.

The two play a game of chess quietly, only speaking if Butters makes a mistake. Butters is quite bad at this game, if I'm honest.
When they finish the game, Stan grabs a dress from the plastic bag and hands it to Butters.

"You like playing dress up, right?" He asks, pulling a wig out of the bag, "I brought some things for you to play with if you get bored."

"Oh gee, thanks," Butters smiles, rubbing the dress against his cheek, "you really are nice, sir."

"Don't mention it." Stan smiles.

His smile is beautiful. I've seen him smile so many times and it's so beautiful.
I hate to admit it, but I've fallen for him. It could be Stockholm syndrome or it could be something else, but either way I've fallen for him and all I want is to recreate that day in the office, but in a more romantic setting.

Suddenly, light fills the room and Stan's butler walks into the room.

"Sir, we have a big problem," he sighs, "A really big problem. You might wanna come outside for this."

"Just spit it out, Garrison." Stan orders.

The butler hesitates.

"It's your parents, sir." He finally says.

"What about them?" Stan asks, "is mom sick again?"

"No..." the butler looks to his feet as if looking for a way out of the situation, "your parents are here."

Stan quickly jumps to his feet, knocking over the chessboard and all of the pieces. The King rolls across the floor into a dark corner and will probably never be found again.

"They're here?" He echoes in shock, "but they can't be here!" he turns to me and Butters, "they can't be here!"

"There's nothing I can do, sir. They're here and you need to do something about it. They're asking for you."

"Shit... shit... shit!" Stan starts pacing and on the last 'shit' he kicks the chessboard, "what do I do about these two?"

The butler shrugs.

"We could just sit in my room, make no noise and pretend we don't exist." I suggest.

"No," Stan shakes his head, "my father will want a tour of the place to see whether I've fucked up somehow. He'll want to see all the servants and see whether they've fucked up somehow..."

Suddenly he clicks his fingers.

"Servants!" He exclaims, "pretend to be savants!"

Butters and I exchange a quick glance.

Us, servants?

His face is still recovering and my neck is covered in hickeys which no shirt will be able to hide. There's no way they wouldn't get looked over.
Plus, we don't look anything like servants. We're both short weaklings.

"You don't have to actually do anything," Stan adds, as if reading my mind, "just stand to the side and look the part."

"I don't see why not," butters shrugs, "it's like a game of dress up."

They all look at me, as if one person disagreeing with the plan means the whole thing is cancelled. What a huge responsibility.

"Sure."

Stan grabs me by my waist and slams his lips against mine, taking me by surprise. However, it doesn't take me long to kiss back and to wrap my arms around him, one in his hair and one on his back.

"Sir, you might want to stop eating the young man and sort out the situation," The butler grabs both of us by our shoulders and pushes us apart, "there will be time for making out later. Also, you look desperate."

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." Stan apologises, biting his lip, "I wanted to thank him."

"Thank me later when I've actually done something." I roll my eyes, although I wish he could thank me now.