Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Narrator woke up somewhere unfamiliar. Where in the universe am I? he asked itself.

The place he happened to wake up in reeked of rotting garbage. It felt like it was about to throw up. Narrator quickly ran out of the alley and took in a breath of fresh air. Well, fresher air. It noticed that the air wasn't very fresh like he was used to. How do humans live like this?

Narrator didn't have time for questions like that though, it needed to figure out what was going on. He walked over to someone and tapped their shoulder to get their attention. The human looked over at Narrator. "What do you want?"

The Narrator opened its mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He tried to speak again. Nothing. It tried one more time. Still nothing.

Where's my voice!?

He looked at the human, who was obviously getting impatient for a response. Narrator panicked and ran away. Things were not going well for Narrator, especially when it realized that it itself was also a human now. Why was he so worried about being human? Wasn't he always human?

He doesn't entirely think so. Does that even matter? It likely has more important things to worry about. Like finding somewhere to sleep or something to eat, among a plethora of other things.

Gods, he needs therapy.

Chapter Text

Narrator was not having a good time. At all.

It wanted to go home, wherever that was. It wouldn't take anything less.

... He could maybe settle for one of those restaurants that give you the free chips and salsa. It was hungry after all. Narrator walked inside with more confidence now that it knew where he wanted to and could go. It sat at a table in the corner, where he was furthest from people. He watched silently (obviously) as a waiter brought over some chips and salsa.

Narrator waited until the waiter walked away to start eating. As it ate, it watched the other people that were either in the middle of eating or waiting for their food. He took in their appearances and made up stories about them in his head. What else was it supposed to do?

Narrator took a particular interest in the person sitting at the table closest to it. One, they were the only other person sitting by themselves.Two, they looked quite plain, which strangely made them stand out. And three, a little pin on their shirt with their– oh, his pronouns on it, as well as some text below the pronouns saying "I'm mute, I'm not being rude if I don't respond verbally. Because I physically can't".

Hm, that must be something he had to deal with often. Narrator reasoned. Its face quickly turned red with embarrassment as he noticed that the other person saw him staring. Narrator wanted to apologize, but it couldn't. Not without a voice. The man moved his hands and gave a questioning look.

What in the universe does that mean???

Narrator gave him a very confused look. The man sighed and took out a notepad before writing in it. After a moment, the man walked over to Narrator and handed it a note.

Why are you staring at me?

Narrator read the question and gestured for the man to hand him a pen. The man obliged and Narrator quickly wrote its response.

 

I'm very sorry, I was just looking at your pin. I found it quite fascinating and I enjoy learning things about people. I wish I could respond verbally, but it seems that I've permanently lost my voice. Also, may I inquire about the movements you were making with your hands?

The man took a few seconds before responding with a new note.

It's sign language. And I guess it's okay that you were staring. Just please don't kidnap me.

These two went back and forth a few notes before Narrator finally mustered up the courage to ask for help. This man seemed nice enough, after all.

I know that we just met, but I'd like to request your assistance. Please. I can't remember anything.

The man stared at the note for a good twenty seconds. He eventually nodded.

Alright. I guess if you can't remember anything that means you'll need a house. I'll let you stay at mine as long as you don't murder me. Hahaha. What's your name? Mine is Stanley.

Stanley. That's a nice name.

Narrator

 

No, wait. That doesn't feel like a human name, now that Narrator actually thinks about it. It quickly tried to think of human-sounding names before finally settling on one after about ten seconds.

Narrator

Nathan

 

Yes, Nathan. It felt alright. A good human name.

Chapter Text

Stanley looked at the note that was passed to him by the person across the table.

N arrator

Nathan

 

He squinted at the crossed out writing curiously. It seemed like the first name that was written was "Narrator" but it was a bit difficult to tell because it was you know, crossed out. Wasn't Narrator that one god thing...?

Stanley shrugged. It didn't matter, this person was clearly no god, despite being a little creepy. Perhaps Narrator was just a nickname. Besides, it probably was just "Nathan" spelled wrong or something.

 

Alright, Nathan we can leave when you're done with your chips. I'll help you figure things out, I know how it is to be lost and confused.

Granted, the last time Stanley was lost and confused, it was when he was a kid. But still, it's probably even less fun as an adult because of the added embarrassment of being a lost adult.

After about probably fifteen minutes, the two had left the restaurant and gotten to Stanley's house. Narrator  carefully took off his shoes and placed them out of the beside the door frame. It liked that the walls of the living room were yellow, his favorite color. Narrator motioned for Stanley to get the notebook back out.

I like the yellow walls. Again, thank you for letting me live with you. I truly appreciate it.

 

No problem. We should probably get started on trying to get you to remember stuff, right?

 

Stanley sat on the couch and motioned for Narrator to sit with him so that they can discuss things more comfortably. Standing in the doorway is a little awkward. Narrator sat on the other end of the couch, not wanting to invade Stanley's personal space.

Narrator passed a note.

Can you teach me that sign language thing, too? It seems much more convenient than wasting all this paper.

 

Sure, but we'll need to talk about the much more concerning and inconvenient lack of memories first.

Chapter Text

Narrator and Stanley had been talking for a while. Narrator had learned a few signs while trying (and failing) to remember stuff. It learned a few basic signs like "yes" and "no" and "thank you" and "please". He had these opportunities when Stanley had offered him something to eat or drink, and also when it got the confidence to ask for something himself.

Have you remembered anything yet?

Stanley asked.

No. I can't seem to remember anything.

 

Narrator looked at the ground and frowned. He wanted to remember his past so bad... but it just couldn't seem to. It looked at Stanley and frowned. Stanley patted Narrator's shoulder in an attempt to comfort it. "It's okay. Things will turn out alright." Stanley signed. Narrator didn't really understand what he said, but it guessed that they might've words of comfort.

Narrator wanted to understand so bad. Why hadn't it been taught sign language before? Why couldn't he just talk? Oh, his voice... It missed its voice so much. If his voice was anything like his inner monologue, it must sound amazing. If it even had a voice.

Narrator buried its face in its hands. I want my voice back.

He did that thing where someone tries not to cry but they end up letting out that weird noise (except Narrator did this silently) and crying anyways. Stanley flinched slightly before reaching to pat Narrator's back. He wished he could make Narrator feel better. Narrator instinctively hugged Stanley in response. He needed the pressure against his chest. It was slightly comforting. Like when a really fat cat decides to lay on someone when they're sad.

Stanley hugged it back. Nathan really seems to need this right now. He'd do his best to help.

Chapter Text

It's been a few hours. Narrator still felt sad. But... not as sad as before.

He looked at Stanley who was in the kitchen, not far from where Narrator was, making something in a pot. Human food. It curiously walked over and peeked into the pot. It seemed to be a pot of boiling noodles. Beside the stove was a flavor packet and some orange wrapping. Narrator tapped on Stanley's shoulder and decided to try some of his best sign language. [What... are... you... making?] 

Narrator really tried his best, but he thinks it messed up.

Stanley, however, seemed to understand. [Oh, just ramen.] He replied. Narrator nodded. Ramen... it sounds good.

It waited patiently, watching Stanley as he cooked the ramen. Humans– Narrator briefly wondered why he didn't consider himself human– had interesting food.

A few moments later, the two were eating ramen. Chicken flavor, Stanley said. It certainly didn't taste like a chicken, but it was tasty all the same. Narrator had decided it liked ramen. Even though it accidentally swallowed some boiling ramen water earlier.

Stanley was concerned for Nathan. He seemed alright now, but he looked truly distraught earlier. On the bright side, it seemed to be learning sign language quickly.

He had to hold in some silent laughter when Nathan accidentally swallowed hot ramen water. Stanley did grab him some cold water, but the face Nathan made was just that funny!

...

Stanley decided to dismiss his worries for now. Nathan just needs some time to adjust.

Chapter Text

Guys I promise I am not stopping this I just have literally no schedule for this because I cannot do that also I just became an adult so I'm figuring that out I guess

Also I used a shit ton of energy hanging out with my family to celebrate graduation so yeah

I require a job soon

Also I cringe every time I read my own fics (I do that so I remember what actually happened before I start writing) so I have to get past that

I'm putting this here because I feel bad for taking forever but I couldn't find the motivation to write and come up with plot points

Mostly it's the lack of motivation

Please forgive me I barely have the motivation to exist

I wish I was Narrator and had my own little non-euclidean office building with a little Stanley

I want sexy grey and yellow hair and a suit

BUT

I PROMISE THINGS ARE STILL HAPPENING

just... very very very slowly.

Also I forgot my meds again when I typed this weeeeeee

... Did I even need to type this or am I being stupid

Chapter Text

Narrator likes yellow.

It's his favorite color. After a week or so of living with Stanley and learning about the world, it decided that it needed a job now. He didn't want to be a freeloader after all. Plus, he learned that with this thing called money, he can buy lots of yellow things.

Narrator despises other people. Well, despise is a bit of a strong word. Perhaps... dislike. After all, he enjoys Stanley's company, and Stanley is a people. But despite that, he got a job as a barista. It's quite good at multitasking and remembering multiple orders at once. It's almost as if he was literally made to know and do a lot of things at once...

Two weeks later, he bought a yellow plushie snake. It simply had to have it. It was yellow! However, he couldn't think of a fitting name for it so he decided to call it Line for now. And he bought something for Stanley as well. A gift, as thanks for being so kind to it.

Chapter Text

Stanley worked from home. His job did not involve talking, thankfully. He mostly just sent emails and maintained the company's website. It was a lot of button pressing that cramped his fingers sometimes. Usually that meant he should take a break.

It was during one of these breaks, sometime in the afternoon, that Nathan returned from his job a tad later than usual. It had brought a yellow snake, and a metal bucket full of... Stanley couldn't quite see. Hm.

Nathan set the two items on the table and awkwardly motioned for Stanley to come over. Stanley obliged and looked at the items with curiosity.

[I... got you a gift. Technically, many small gifts in a bucket, but... you know what I mean.]

Stanley peered into the bucket and saw a variety of snacks. Chicken ramen, gummy worms, Cheetos, etc. [Thank you, Nathan! You didn't have to do that!]

[But I did! I couldn't just live here and not return the favor. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I tried making guesses. Is it all acceptable?]

Stanley nodded. [It is, I promise. What's with the snake though?]

Nathan looked a tad embarrassed. [I know it's a tad childish to have a stuffed creature, but I really liked the snake and how yellow it was.]

[Hey, that's alright, Nathan. I'm not judging you for getting something that makes you happy.]

Nathan smiled, reassured by Stanley's words.

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, in a small town (technically a village) that you could walk to the other end of within ten minutes, there is a home that grows many nice flowers in its front yard. These flowers attracted butterflies and hummingbirds and bees, and that made its owner very happy.

Inside the house right now, the owner is getting ready to start their day. They put their clothes on, and eat breakfast, and then brush their teeth for exactly two minutes. When they're done with all that, they go outside to check on their beloved flowers.

To their relief the flowers are all doing well, all that they need is water. They walk back inside the house to get a watering can and fill it with water before returning to their flowers and watering them.

A large fuzzy bee flies near the person, but they do not react. The bee lands on their shoulder to rest before buzzing to a white and purple flower and landing upon that to obtain its nectar.

The person smiles. "Hello, Bee. I see we both like these flowers. Have you seen the butterflies? They're a week late. I thought they'd be back in the area by now. You're not late though, are you? You're back to work at the first sign of spring. Bees are always on time."

The Bee of course, does not reply. The person thinks about where the butterflies might be for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I suppose they will return on their own time..."

The person turns to walk back into their house before stopping and shivering. They feel a sensation like being dropped in ice and then suddenly everything is normal once more. For the most part. Now the person feels a presence of some sort in a certain direction.

They continue on and walk inside their house. However they're on to a different task than they originally planned to do after the flowers. They pack a suitcase and text their neighbor, requesting that they watch their flowers for them. The neighbor graciously agrees and the person brings their suitcase to their car.

They get in the driver's seat, buckle themselves in, and start driving. They need to find the source of that presence.

Chapter Text

Narrator was floating aimlessly. Where was he? Space? The sea? Somewhere else one would float? It didn't matter. He was scared either way. It tried to call out for help... and he was able to speak!

"Stanley!"

That's what his voice sounded like? He loved it! However, Narrator didn't have much time to be happy, as he heard a voice not its own.

"Narrator. How have you been?"

"Who are you?"

"Now is not the time for you to remember who I am. That will be later. If you must have an answer though, call me an old friend."

Narrator blinked. It didn't know the voice, but it was somehow familiar. So "Old Friend" it is. "Where are we, Old Friend?" Narrator asked.

"Your dream. It's the only way we can both use our voices at the moment."

"So I didn't get my voice back..." Narrator moved a hand to his throat, where his voice is. It sighed sadly.

"That's correct. I'm sorry to disappoint you," said the voice apologetically. Narrator suddenly spun around, like the wind was pushing it. "Now," the voice continued, "you need to answer my earlier question. How have you been?"

Narrator thought for a few seconds, then answered. "I've been good. A nice man named Stanley has given me a place to stay. I even found a job."

"Very good. Have you been kind to Stanley?"

"I hope so. I've been trying to return the favor properly."

"That's good."

The voice paused, then sighed. "It's almost morning. I must go. Continue being kind, Narrator. Good luck on your day."

And with that Narrator woke up, tried to call for Stanley, and was disappointed.