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Stanley sat in the deafening silence of the “skip button” room for quite a long time.
He’d questioned hitting the button again. Just to see what would happen. The Narrator was gone. He hadn’t spoken in a few skips now. His rants no longer filled the unsettling space. He didn’t exactly blame the other, especially since he now knew that these skips were spanning over years. Possibly longer at this point. Despite that, his urges still tugged at his fingertips. Just to see if something would change. If there was an escape. If after another thousand years The Narrator would come back.
He wondered if the other was still alive. Could he even die? Was he a human at all? Stanley was beginning to question if he was human.
Was The Narrator just giving Stanley the silent treatment? If he was- Stanley didn’t feel much resentment. They were both trapped in the same situation as they always were. Fighting with each other for power. For control over a situation neither of them could quite grasp. This time, Stanley holding the facade of power. The power to destroy another being’s entire life with the push of a button.
He had found it amusing at first. Listening to his counterpart getting cut off mid-speech. He always did tend to ramble, maybe Cookie9 was right.
But, the longer he took pauses between what he was rambling about. Or the further his topic of rant sped down the line of complete contemplation, the worse Stanley felt. And now he just couldn’t bring himself to press that button. No matter how long it took for The Narrator to return.
So, here Stanley sat. Curled up on the floor of this prison. It was familiar in a way. At least it looked like the office building. The place he figured he would die in someday. He had been hugging his knees to his chest. Leaning against the chain fence that had been placed graciously around the inside of the room. He wasn’t going to do it this time. He wasn’t going to press that button. No matter how long the silence would tear at him. He would not press that button.
What if The Narrator returned? What if he hadn’t vanished forever? What if he was still waiting for Stanley, after thousands of years? They seemed like the wishes of a child at this point. But he would hold onto them anyway.
He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been sitting here now. Were the thoughts he just had spanning over millions of years? Merely seconds? Stanley hadn’t exactly taken the time to consider just exactly how time passed without that button. Maybe it was just the way it always had been.
After a long while of fiddling with his thumbs, Stanley heard an unusual sound.
It sounded like… crying? Was someone crying?
Perhaps he was hallucinating. That's what happens after isolation for so long, right? Hallucinations?
Except the crying only got louder. And the source of the weeps sounded similar to a voice that he knew far too well. The voice that would narrate his every thought. If his ears were correct, The Narrator had returned. Not intentionally he assumed. He doubted The Narrator would ever let Stanley hear him cry. And if Stanley had half the heart left, he thought that maybe he would be able to cry too.
Then, the most peculiar thing happened. As if his inseparable other half’s voice reappearing wasn’t enough.
Stanley had to have been hallucinating, he had to have been. But it looked like something was sitting in the room just across from him. Past the chain fence, curled up next to one of the random pieces of equipment that were laid across the floor. There was no noise emitting from it, the crying still ringing inside of his head.
Stanley contemplated walking up to it. But after long enough he saw it rise from its spot on the floor. It was slumped over, covering some of what Stanley assumed to be its face.
He then saw its true shape. It wasn’t exactly human. It looked like a creature of some sort. But not animal-like, nor a monster. It appeared geometrically. There was a soft, dark mauve glow emitting from it. And as it finally looked up he saw its face.
It couldn’t be.
“ S….Stan…..Stanley?”
The voice was no longer ringing from inside of his head. It was in front of him.
“ Stanley.. is that you…?” His voice was so soft. So quiet. So broken. The voice he had always known.
Stanley felt like he couldn’t move. He didn’t know what he was seeing. It was a deity, a dark purple deity. Dressed in a white button-up and a disheveled yellow tie. Complete with chestnut-colored slacks. It couldn’t have been him. It sounded like him, dressed like how he always imagined he would, but it couldn’t be.
“ Stanley... Stanley please is that you?” It cried out again, slowly stepping forward. The glow that was emitting from it flicked in and out of view. As if it were on beat with its cries.
“ Stanley, please. I can’t... I can’t do this anymore. I'm so alone. It's been so long.”
It was him.
Stanley suddenly fell to his knees, opening his arms. Surprised at himself. The other in front of him took a brief step back in mutual surprise. Hesitating like a deer in headlights.
If he was hallucinating, to hell with it.
The creature ran towards him until he saw it, for real this time. A being of an indescribable look. Instead of purple, was now emitting a dark blue. Tears fell from its grief-stricken eyes. And before he could take in what he was seeing, it was standing in front of him.
“ Are you.. are you even real? Is this….all a sick joke on me? A set-up by my already wandering imagination? Is this what I find fun to do to myself? Hallucinating that you’ve returned. That you stopped pressing that damned button. That you’ve finally waited for m-“ It rambled on and on. Its fists were balled up, shaking with doubt.
Stanley cut it off with a tight embrace. Holding the indescribable creature that stood in front of him. It had to be him. It was His Narrator. He knew it.
He was so warm, so soft. Even when he was completely shattered. The Narrator didn’t reciprocate the hug, Stanley could feel the other shaking. And then tears came. And they fell gently onto the back of his neck and his shoulders. Trailing down his collarbone in an almost comforting way. Even though they were tears, this being was gracing him with a part of himself. That was comforting to Stanley in its own little strange way.
“ Is this…” There was a long pause. And a few gasps between silent cries
“What I’ve come to? Do I feel this much a need to continue torturing myself? I…I know this isn’t real. I know…you aren’t…Stanley.” The Narrators voice sounded so indescribably broken. Speaking the last word with such venom. Such terror.
Stanley wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to convince him otherwise.
But it was enough to be able to hold him just this once. Even in his worst of moments. Even after all they’d been through. He wanted to pick him up and swing him around and tell him everything would be alright. That he was the only other thing in this entire damned universe that would understand who he was, and all he would ever be. That he was all that he ever would want.
But now, he was merely a hallucination to the other.
And that would be fine.
“…Stanley.” The Narrator whined.
And the hug was finally reciprocated.
Stanley squeezed his arms even tighter. Practically kneeling over him like a shield. He never expected His Narrator to be quite this short, but that was something to tease him for later.
A positive note to hold onto.
No words were spoken for a long, long time.
More tears fell down the back of his neck, Stanley himself wanting to cry too. The other that was wrapped up in his embrace was still shaking uncontrollably.
Despite their circumstances. Something felt oddly comforting about at last being able to hug the only other person who would ever understand you. To be able to let him just cry in your arms. Perhaps, under different circumstances, this hug would’ve been full of joy. Their cries of unending happiness, and not solitude.
Perhaps under different circumstances, he and His Narrator would sit in the break room. Or on a missing employee's desk. Or perched on a windowsill. And they’d talk. And under a circumstance as lucky as could be, they could sit together, and hug, and chat over coffee, and brush shoulders or hands. And they’d have so much time.
They could stay in the zen room. Lay on the stage floor, surrounded by dancing lights of an infinity neither of them would ever touch. Stanley would never inevitably climb those stairs. Because an eternity in a room as such, instead of the one he currently kneeled in, was all he’d ever need. They could truly be happy. His Narrator could be happy. That was all he’d ever needed at this point anyway. -Was an equal amount of happiness between them. Two creatures trapped in the same circumstance. He no longer wished for an exit out of a big door, or the trees and birds outside, or an escape pod to a different planet. He just wanted to be happy with the only person who could understand him.
But as they always do, they’d wrecked each other beyond compare.
Would they ever learn?
“Stanley…Are you real?”
The hug was finally broken. His Narrator's face, which was a dark blue the last time he had seen him, was a light flushed color. His face was covered in tear marks. His glasses were crooked. He looked downright distraught. It was heartbreaking. Had he been like this all of this time? Just waiting for Stanley? Crying in this room all alone? Was it a miracle that he caught him this time?
“Even if you aren’t. I would just like- an indication. At least that you’re here, please.”
Stanley nodded and signed ‘yes’
“Oh, Stanley. I’ve missed you so much.”
The Narrator gasped and reached out a hand quickly. Just to be able to feel what Stanley’s was like. Perhaps to see if he were even actually there. The moment they touched hands The Narrator seemed to recoil. Despite being the one who initiated it. The light pink his complexion had been was turning a bit darker. And The Narrator shriveled in on himself.
“Well, that’s embarrassing, Stanley.” The Narrator sighed. Like as if he was trying to keep the thought inside, but it spilled out anyway. The Narrator hesitated on what to say next for a moment, and a sharp inhale was heard. The kind you hear after someone has been crying for a long, long time. And they’ve finally swam back up to the surface to breathe.
“I'm not exactly used to you being able to see me.” A hint of a smile danced in his tone.
‘It’s ok’ signed Stanley.
‘I wasn’t expecting you to be so short.’
“I- We- Well I-“ The narrator stammered. Turning an even darker shade.
“Stanley. I did not expect for you to be here…” His voice grew louder in an embarrassment-driven fit. Stanley could quickly see The Narrator looking at him up and down before speaking again.
“And I did not expect you to be as tall…You appeared shorter…” He paused. Not enjoying being reminded of such a distant past. “-Before.”
‘That’s alright.’ Stanley smiled.
The Narrator reached out his hand again. Grabbing quickly onto Stanleys. He may have just been startled by human contact. Or any contact for the first time in ages- maybe ever. but there was something so timid about it. Like a child that was doing something it was sure it wasn’t supposed to be doing, but did anyway. He could feel him shaking. And there was something so tender about that. So humane in a way a Stanley never thought a creature with a godlike power could commit.
Stanley gently stroked his thumb along the others hand, and the Narrator gave a genuine, very shaky- but still warm smile. His complexion turned a light pink as it was before. Emitting a subtle radiance.
“You know, Stanley, I’ve never touched someone else’s hand before. Not like this.”
The Narrator admitted. His voice was suddenly so kind. Something was different when it wasn’t echoing from the inside of his head. He didn’t sound as...well, for lack of a better word- preachy as usual.
“You think I'm preachy, Stanley?” The narrator asked gently. His expression was blank.
‘Did you just read my mind?’ Stanley signed at him.
“Oh. Ah, yes. I did.” The Narrator seemed as if he had just gotten caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
“My apologies. Old habits die hard I suppose.”
All Stanley did was smile and shake his head. I guess he wouldn’t mind it for now. He found it slightly endearing that after all this time The Narrator still recalled how things used to be. Even if those memories were not pleasant to revisit.
And there they sat, kneeling in front of one another. Holding hands.
It was truly a gift to be content with the only person who would ever understand you, and one day maybe they’d learn how.