The Thin Line

by Idkwhatswrongwithme

Summary:

Update: This story is currently under revision.

In a desperate attempt for control, Squidward finds out just how much he can lose.

Playlist for this fic ⬇️
https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQ0CYSY6Mgy9_5mCUPHSnFVeRjl9ESCwY&si=DCLatznE9g3OMaxc

Chapter 1

Notes:

Revised on 8/30/2025

Silence enveloped Bikini Bottom as the first rays of dawn cast their glow on the underwater city. Within the confines of his Easter Island home, Squidward began to stir from his sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he came to. Feeling well-rested, a small smile spread across his face, which quickly disappeared as he heard SpongeBob’s foghorn alarm blaring in the distance. How he loathed that noise, which he could never seem to get used to, even after all these years. He let out a deep sigh as he began to mentally prepare for another soul-sucking day at the Krusty Krab.

“Why do I even bother anymore?” he muttered, rolling himself out of bed.

Recently, Squidward had become uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was getting older. Too old, and with little to show for it. His beauty and vitality were fading, while time was passing without mercy. His own mortality was always at the forefront of his mind. He knew that he would likely pass from this life to the next without any recognition for his talents. Some days, this blow to his ego was too much to bear.

After dragging himself out of bed, the cephalopod slowly crept up to his mirror, ready to begin his usual routine. He leaned over the sink, splashing cold water over his face. He lingered there briefly, eyes shut tightly as he reveled in the icy coolness. He wanted to savor this fleeting moment of stillness. Rarely in life was he permitted even small moments like this, where he was allowed to feel at ease. But as fate would have it, this momentary peace was cut short as he lifted his head to meet his own gaze in the mirror.

“Dear Neptune,” he whispered in disgust. 

Scanning his own features in the reflection, Squidward couldn’t help but notice every defect. Those unsightly forehead lines, tired eyes beginning to gather wrinkles at the edges, dry skin, soft midsection, and squishy tentacles. He quickly made a mental checklist of every imperfection.

The longer Squidward stared, the more it seemed like he was looking into a funhouse mirror. Tentacles expanded and contracted, facial features twisted into a repulsive caricature. His pulse quickened as his perception grew more and more distorted.

With eyes still fixed on the mirror, he took a deep breath. “Okay, Squiddy, calm down.”

“You’ve let yourself go, but you can fix this. You’re going to start a strict diet, starting today. No excuses,” he continued, trying to suppress the urge to spiral. 

It was generally acknowledged in underwater society that octopuses were not considered to be the most beautiful of sea creatures. Their large noses and crimson eyes were slightly off-putting to the average fish folk. But nonetheless, Squidward always thought himself to be just a cut above the rest. He prided himself on his “bluish glow” and slender physique. It was the one thing he had, the one thing he hadn’t failed at miserably. If he failed at this, what would be left?

As Squidward continued getting ready for work, his mind began racing. Images of his fellow Bikini Bottomites whispering and laughing, pointing their fins mockingly at him became vivid. In an attempt to draw his mind from the miserable thought, he glanced out of his window. SpongeBob could be seen skipping merrily to work, no doubt humming some childish tune. Not an unusual sight for a weekday morning, but especially annoying on a day like today.

 

There is no way that you are going to let yourself become even more of a laughing stock to this town full of barnacle heads.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Revised on 8/31/2025

Squidward managed to pull himself together following his early morning breakdown. Well, at least somewhat. He gripped the door frame, taking a deep breath as he left his home. It was a beautiful day, but not even the warmth of the sun’s embrace was able to take his mind off of the image of his reflection. With every step toward the Krusty Krab, he could feel aggravation building up inside of him as bitter memories began to surface. Squidward knew he shouldn’t let his mind wander but against his better judgment, he gave into temptation.

As a freshman in high school, he had put on some weight. In reality, this weight gain was hardly noticeable, and he himself hadn’t even noticed it. But someone else in his life was acutely aware of the change.

“Squidward, come here. Let me take a look at you,” Mrs. Tentacles had said sharply, motioning for Squidward to turn around.

“Yes, mama,” Squidward replied, eyes cast downward.

In her youth, Mrs. Tentacles had been a ballet instructor. She was undoubtedly respected by those within her circle, but she had a reputation for her harsh nature and stoic exterior. She was not an easy woman to love, and it was not easy for her to love in return.

She drew even closer, looming over him. “Why are you looking down? What did I tell you about avoiding eye contact?”

Squidward’s eyes darted up, meeting hers. He couldn’t seem to find the right words, even though he knew the answer. He said nothing.

“It conveys weakness, Squidward,” she replied coldly.

Mrs. Tentacles took a step back from Squidward and began slowly circling him as if he were her prey. Her eyes traced his body, searching for any and every flaw.“What is this?” she asked, roughly pinching his midsection.

“Uh, my abdomen?” Squidward answered, instantly regretting what he had just said.

Mrs. Tentacles scoffed. “I’m surprised you’ve failed to notice what is so glaringly obvious. You’ve put on weight. Fix it, so we don’t have to have this conversation again.”

Squidward remained silent. His mother, harsh as she was, had never commented on his body before. He had always been naturally slender, like most of his species. He failed to comprehend how he could have overlooked something like this. Overwhelmed with shame, he could feel tears beginning to form in his eyes.

He simply nodded in response, using every shred of his willpower to not let a single tear fall in her presence. He had learned well that showing any form of vulnerability in front of her was never a good idea.

“You may leave,” Mrs. Tentacles said flatly as she turned her back to him.

Squidward turned to leave the room, feeling like the floodgates were about to burst open. He tried to shuffle down the hall as quickly as he could without drawing any extra attention from his mother.

“Squidward!” he heard her shout, right as he was nearly to the safety of his bedroom.

He swallowed, turning his head in her direction. “Yes?”

“Always remember, gluttony is the most shameful of all the vices because everyone can see it.”

“Everyone can see it.” This phrase echoed in his mind, and as his mother commanded, Squidward always remembered it. This phrase formed him in more ways than he realized. To those around him, Squidward seemed like an individual with thick skin, always putting himself and his art in the public view despite the repeated failures and ridicule. Beneath the facade of confidence, his skin was paper thin. He cared deeply about what others thought of him. Even SpongeBob, although he would never admit it out loud.

As Squidward approached the Krusty Krab, he started to snap out of it. He was late for work, and he knew Mr. Krabs was going to give him an earful the moment he stepped through those doors.

“Here we go, Squidward. Keep it together. Bury it down and save it for later,” he muttered to himself.

 

 

Chapter 3

Notes:

Revised on 8/31/2025

As the double doors to the Krusty Krab swung open, Squidward grimaced as he was met with the overwhelming scent of grease and sweat. The temperature outside was heating up, and so were the patrons. Of course, Mr. Krabs, constantly driven by avarice, would never dare turn on the AC. The repulsive smell triggered an intense wave of nausea as he walked up to the register. He could hear SpongeBob in the kitchen laughing and giggling to himself. He never understood how SpongeBob maintained such a cheerful disposition despite being stuck in this grease trap for eight hours a day. At the thought of this he felt a twinge of envy but promptly pushed the aside as he stepped behind his post. 

“Mr. Squidward!” Mr. Krabs bellowed out into the crowded restaurant, garnering the attention of several customers.

Here it comes.

Mr. Krabs scuttled toward Squidward. “Do ye realize you’re over thirty minutes late? Even for a slacker such as yourself, this is unacceptable!”

Squidward could feel drops of saliva sprinkling him as Mr. Krabs hovered only inches from his face. For a fleeting moment, he couldn’t help but imagine how satisfying it would feel to punch him square in the face.

“Won’t happen again, sir,” Squidward replied, void of any expression.

“Oh, because I’ve never heard that one before. I’m dockin’ your pay for the entire week,” Mr. Krabs spat before retreating to his office.

Normally, Squidward would protest his employer’s unfairness, but it just didn’t seem worth it. He knew that if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Instead he stared onward, hoping to find some distraction.

He watched as the customers ate their food, hunched over, mouths agape like wild animals.“Sickening,” Squidward whispered  under his breath.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” SpongeBob asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

Squidward blinked. “And who exactly are you referring to, SpongeBob?” 

SpongeBob looked up at him with his signature gap toothed grin. “The customers, silly! They’re really enjoying themselves today, huh?” he asked as they both watched a fish with ketchup smeared across his chin devouring his meal in a sickening fervor.

With a deep sigh Squidward responded, “They certainly are. Now, will you leave me alone to vomit in peace?”

“Sure thing, buddy!” SpongeBob said with a wink before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

As the day continued Squidward couldn’t help but become hyper aware of all the eating surrounding him. With his mother’s ominous warning ringing in his head, accompanied with the mental imagery of the ketchup smeared fish, he decided to skip lunch. He knew this would only sour his mood even more but at least it would be the first step to losing weight. 

Squidward sat down at one of the empty tables in the far corner of the Krusty Krab. Leaning forward and resting his head in his tentacles, he prayed nobody would bother him. The day was halfway over, and he longed to be able to return home to his clarinet and shut out the world. 

But the moment he heard the sound of those squeaking shoes, he knew his prayer hadn’t been heard. 

“Hiya, Squidward!”

Squidward didn’t repsonse, instead he repaid SpongeBob’s sweetness with a cold glare.

SpongeBob stopped and tilted his head. 
“Are you okay, Squidward?”

“Why do you care?” Squidward snapped, sounding even more agitated than usual.

“Why wouldn’t I care, Squidward? You’re my best friend!”

SpongeBob was used to Squidward’s moods, but something felt different this time. He might be naive, but he wasn’t stupid. Before he could second-guess himself, he wrapped his arms around Squidward’s waist and pulled him into a tight hug.

That was it. Squidward couldn’t take it anymore. Anger surged through him, and the grip around his waist wasn’t just a hug, it was her. Her fingers prodding his flesh, her eyes full of contempt. 

“Don’t you dare touch me, you little freak!” he exploded, picking SpongeBob up and hurling him to the ground. 

SpongeBob’s body hit the floor with a loud crack, rendering the entire restaurant silent. Every customer turned to look but Squidward hardly noticed. 

“You can never just leave me alone, can you?!” Squidward roared as he stood over SpongeBob with heaving breaths. “Always pushing, always poking. You’re just like-“ 

SpongeBob eyes widened in fear.“Squidward, I-I,” he stuttered, struggling to get anything else out. 

“Listen to me, you pathetic moron! If there is any part of you that actually cares about me, you will never speak nor look at me ever again. I can’t stand even the sight of you, SpongeBob, and I need you to get this through your thick head. We are NOT friends.”

“Please, I’m—”

Squidward raised a tentacle in the air and cut him off. “I. Despise. You,”

SpongeBob had reached his limit too. He pulled himself up from the floor, nearly choking on his tears. He sprinted to the back of the restaurant, heading straight for the bathroom. The door slammed behind him, making the entire restaurant tremble. Hearing the echoes of his sobs, customers shook their heads as they left in droves. 

“You really need to get a handle on your employees, Krabs,” remarked one fish as he hurried out the front door.

Mr. Krabs charged toward Squidward without hesitation. “Get out of me restaurant, Mr. Squidward! I’ve had it with ye today. Don’t bother coming in tomorrow either.”

“Fine by me, Eugene! Fine by me,” said Squidward, snatching the hat off of his head and tossing it to the ground. 

Leaving the Krusty Krab, he walked home with a spring in his step. It had been oddly satisfying, letting himself go like that. But the one thing he didn’t take into account was the inevitable crash, looming right around the corner. 

Chapter 4

Notes:

Revised on 9/1/2025

After hearing Squidward leave, Spongebob poked his head out of the bathroom to make sure he was gone. The only person left was Mr. Krabs, standing alone near his office door with a troubled look on his face. He noticed SpongeBob and motioned for him to come over. 

“We’re gonna close her up early today, so just head on home. I’ll talk to Squidward tomorrow,” Mr. Krabs said looking at him sympathetically.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he answered, “Thanks Mr. Krabs, see you tomorrow.”

Spongebob quickly turned around and left the Krusty Krab. His body ached from being thrown like a rag doll, but his mind was in a worse state. Walking home, it all kept replaying in his head as he tried to figure out what he did wrong.

“Gee, I must be a pretty terrible friend,”  he said to himself, eyes cast down as he walked along the sandy path.

Approaching his pineapple, SpongeBob anxiously looked around to see if Squidward was around. Looking up at the Easter Island home he noticed all the lights were off. Relieved, he rushed to his door and closed it quickly behind him. And for the first time, he was not so delighted that he lived next door to Squidward.

Gary noticed his owner’s arrival and happily slithered up to greet him. SpongeBob flashed an affectionate smile in return but it looked empty. 

Gary look up at his owner with concern, “Meow?”

“Sorry Gary, it’s been a hard day but I’ll be fine. I’m just going to head upstairs.”

Before he could make it to the stairs he heard a knock at the door. His heart began to beat so fast he was worried that it would fall out of rhythm. He clutched his chest tightly, and didn’t move or breathe for what felt like an eternity.

“SpongeBob? You there, buddy?” Patrick’s muffled voice called out from behind the door.

SpongeBob instantly exhaled at the realization that it was just Patrick.  He almost forgot they had plans to go jellyfishing after work.

SpongeBob cracked open the door, only revealing a fraction of his face. 
“Hey, Patrick. I’m actually not feeling up to jellyfishing today. I’m really sorry. Can we plan again for tomorrow, maybe?”

“Aww cmon, please SpongeBob? I’m so bored and I’ve been waiting all day for you to get back.”

“I’m sorry Pat, I really don’t feel well. Not today,” he said with a little more firmness this time.

“Oh alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow then. Hope you feel better soon.” Patrick said with defeat, before heading back to his rock.

SpongeBob felt more drained than ever now, and desperate for solitude he bolted up the stairs and into his bedroom.

With a groan he climbed into his bed, taking delight in the softness and comfort which contrasted the aching of his body. As he stared at the ceiling, he felt the sudden urge to cry, but nothing came. It was as though he had exhausted himself of the ability to shed another tear. In their place came a deep, hollow sorrow that made him shiver. Should he be the one apologize? Or was Squidward supposed to?

“Why did Squidward think I was mocking him? What’s to mock, anyway? He’s so.. talented, and interesting,” he said to himself. “Wait, what am I saying?!”

The expression on SpongeBob’s face shifted as he realized he was praising his “friend” who had assaulted him only hours ago. Feeling bitter again, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, having one last thought before slipping into unconsciousness.

Will anything ever be the same?

Chapter 5

Notes:

Revised on 9/1/2025

Squidward’s room was bathed in darkness, the only light coming from the glowing digits on his alarm clock reading, 3:00 am. With a gasp, he suddenly bolted upright out of a deep sleep. Gripping the covers, he scanned the room, his heart pounding against his rib cage. His eyes eventually landed on the alarm clock, reminding him of where he was.

“Must have been a nightmare or something,” he murmured, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

He could already tell that trying to fall back asleep would be pointless. With drooping eyelids, he made his way over the bathroom. As he flipped on the light switch, he grimaced as he was faced again with his own reflection. He drew a slow breath, trying to steady himself. 

Now crouching down on the bathroom floor, he opened up one of the cabinets under the sink. He pulled out his scale which had now become coated with a layer of dust. “Ah, there you are.”

Immediately, he stripped off his clothes and took his first step on the scale. He bit his lip in anticipation, waiting for the numbers to appear, “Oh…” he whispered, realizing that it was worse than he expected. 

With a groan he stepped off of it and shoved it back in the cabinet. “I don’t know what I expected.”

He stood up and looked at himself again, running his tentacles over his entire body. He grasped at every inch of flesh, in hopes of finding some redeemable aspect. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing he could say he was proud of.

He leaned in close, narrowing his eyes at his own reflection. “You disgust me.”

He vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to let this go on for any longer. He wanted to feel light, to be empty. But not only on the inside, he wanted his pain to be a visible testament. 

“I’ll show them. If they want art, I’ll give them art,” he said, gripping the sides of the sink.

He began to ramble incoherently for a while as he paced around his bathroom.  His voice echoed throughout his home all while the sun slowly started to make its appearance. As he noticed the light trickling in, he finally snapped out of it. 

Have I really been in here that long?

He had almost forgotten what had happened the previous day, and his heart sunk at the memory of it. He hurriedly made his way down the stairs and to the living room.

Oh Neptune, you’ve really done it this time Squidward.

Just moments after entering the living room he heard his phone begin to ring. There was no need to look at the called ID, he already knew who it was.

With trembling tentlaces he reached for the phone. “H-Hello? Eugene..?”

“Squidward, we need to talk about what happened yesterday.”

This was the last thing Squidward wanted to do, and finding himself at loss for words he said nothing. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten’ into you, but it’s concernin’ to say the least. I was planning to fire ye, but after workin’ here for so many years, you’re like family at this point. So, I’ll give you one last chance, as long as you promise to get your act together and apologize to the little yella guy. What do ya say, Mr. Squidward?” 

Squidward wasn’t sure why he was being so gracious with him, but he didn’t fight it. “Okay, Eugene. I.. promise.”  

“Glad to hear it, Mr. Squidward! Now I want you to take the rest of the week off, so please sort out whatever it is that is troublin’ ya. And no, it’s not paid time off.”

The phone call ended abruptly with a click, leaving Squidward simultaneously relieved and anxious.

Apolgize.. to SpongeBob, he said internally, unsure if his pride would allow it. His chest tightened as he contemplated the unthinkable.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Revised on 9/1/2025

After talking to Mr. Krabs, Squidward made himself a fresh cup of coffee. He sunk down into his chair, mug in hand, and took a sip that was almost as bitter as his mood. As his lips lingered on the rim, his mind wandered to thoughts of SpongeBob. That look on his face, the way the customers just got up and left. Even they knew he could see that he had taken it too far.

 

Squidward knew he wasn’t the most pleasant person in the ocean, but he had always considered himself to be decent. In fact, he would probably be much better if he didn’t have to deal with so many people testing his patience on a regular basis. But despite any justifications he could make, his conscience still ate away at him. And now was perhaps the first time he had felt genuine shame for his actions. It seemed that not only did he lack control with food, he couldn’t even control his emotions.

 

And to make matters worse, he didn’t just hurt someone who was innocent, he hurt someone who for some reason, admired him more than anyone else in the entire ocean. SpongeBob wasn’t perfect by any means, but he always had good intentions. He knew how to love, even if he was often overzealous. It was something that Squidward never picked up on it, or maybe he was just never taught.

 

Squidward lifted his knees to his chest and wrapped his tentacles around himself. “I’m just like my mother, aren’t I?”

 

At first he tried to resist, but his shoulders began to tremble as he let himself finally cry. His breath became shallow and uneven, and as he listed to the sound of own cries mingled with the soft sounds of the ocean outside.

 

It had been years since he had let himself cry like this.

 

Outside, SpongeBob had just left for work when he stopped dead in his tracks the moment he heard it. “Is that… Squidward?”

 

When it finally sank in, SpongeBob’s entire body seemed to sag. It didn’t matter how many times Squidward yelled at him or reminded him of how annoying was, he still cared.

 

SpongeBob wanted to rush to his side and comfort him, but something stopped him before he could react.

 

His eyes grew dull. “He hates you. You would just make it worse,” he whispered to himself. And without a second thought SpongeBob turned away, continuing down the path to the Krusty Krab.

Chapter 7

Notes:

Revised on 9/1/2025

Several days passed, painfully slow, and no words had been spoken between Squidward and SpongeBob yet. It seemed that neither of them had to courage to face one another.

 

Squidward had locked himself away, not even taking a single step outside. His days consisted of sleeping excessively, and eating almost nothing. If he did eat, it had been weighed and calculated to perfection. This routine had become his only comfort, and the only thing that could dull the noise in his head.

 

He enjoyed the lightheadedness he felt every time he stood up, and he savored the feeling of cool water pooling in his empty stomach. In some twisted way, it made him feel powerful.

 

He hadn’t yet lost much yet, but he could see the number falling. Slowly but surely, he would get there. “At least I have this,” he muttered to himself as he stepped on the scale for the second time that morning.

 

After stepping off the scale, he made his way to the kitchen. His eyes instantly locked onto the fridge, a faint hum emanating from it. He looked at the inanimate object as if it were his mortal enemy.

 

“Don’t do it,” warned the voice in his head. It sounded like his mother.

 

Suddenly his mind brought him back to the first time he tried a Krabby Patty. In that moment it was satisfying, letting go and indulging his hunger without restraint. But looking back, it filled him with disgust. The image of his thighs, bulging with fat and dimples made him squirm.

 

“That can’t ever happen again.. it’s not worth it. If you give in now, Neptune knows what you will give in to later,” he said as he reached his tentacle around to the back of the fridge. “But just to be sure…”

 

With a grunt he ripped the cord from the wall and let out a sigh of relief.

 

Now with the fridge out of the way, he tried to shift his focus. He trudged over to the calendar on the wall, flinching when he realized that tomorrow was the day he was expected to return to work. Suddenly his euphoric lightness came to an end and he felt heavy. He quickly leaned over, trying to steady himself.

 

He had been dreading this moment for days. It was undeniable that he had to face SpongeBob at some point, but he had hoped it wouldn’t come so quickly. He drew a sharp breath, managing to keep himself composed.

 

He felt like a fool for letting it affect him so much, SpongeBob was possibly the least intimidating person in the ocean. But he couldn’t help but worry that maybe this time, he had run out of chances. Even SpongeBob must have a limit of forgiveness.

 

 

The feeling of heaviness passed, and Squidward stood upright again. He wrung his tentacles together, knowing that he needed to prepare himself while he still had a little time. “SpongeBob, can we talk? I’m so s-“ he faltered, as he rehearsed his apology to himself in the mirror.

 

“Barnacles!!”

 

He felt like an idiot. He had always prided himself on his way with words, but now his mind was failing him. And it didn’t help that he kept becoming distracted by how worn out he looked. His skin looked more grey than blue, and his eye bags were so dark that they could be easily mistaken for a pair of black eyes.

 

He began rubbing his temples vigorously. “Well that’s just fabulous. Yet another another cherry on the top of my pathetic excuse for a life,” he groaned.

 

He spent the rest of that evening in bed. As he tossed and turned all he could think about was that stupid sponge.

 

I’ve always sort of liked you.

 

He recalled that embarrassing confession, when he and SpongeBob were forced to work the graveyard shift. He grimaced at the memory, mostly because he knew it was true. SpongeBob was his only true friend. But for the most part it been one sided, Squidward had spent years rejecting every attempt of friendship that had been extended to him.

 

He let himself consider what it would be like if he stopped pushing him away, and there was a subtle warmth he could feel stirring inside of him. Or maybe the lack of food was just messing with his head. But then, the feeling left as quickly as it came, and the hollowness crept back in as he finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 8

Notes:

Revised on 9/2/2025

Squidward awoke from his sleep with a heavy groan. He squinted harshly as the morning sun filtered through his bedroom window. It felt like gravity had intensified ten fold, the sleep deprivation was evidently taking its toll.

 

Making its usual debut was the sound of SpongeBob’s foghorn alarm. A feeling of dread gnawed at him as he listened to the blaring sound.

 

“Today is the day,” he said in his nasal drawl, his face drooping with exhaustion.

 

The first thing Squidward did was head straight for the scale, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. As he stepped onto it, the scale creaked under his weight, and a smile spread across his face as he realized that he was lighter than the day before.

 

As he prepared for work, it dawned on him that not only did he have to deal with  SpongeBob, but he also had endure hours of being surrounded by food. If he wanted to avoid a binge he was going to have to eat at least something before he left.

 

Taking notice of the clock he rushed downstairs in a frenzy. Already being on thin ice with Mr. Krab’s he could not afford another screw up.

 

Once he reached the fridge he flung open the door with such panic that he nearly ripped the fridge door from its hinges. With eyes darting from left to right, he tried finding something acceptable to eat. The only thing that seemed reasonable was a plate of leftovers steamed coral. He didn’t even remember making that recently, but it would have to do.

Despite his mind and body screaming no, he forced it into his mouth. Although steamed, it was still hard as a rock and had become rancid due to the fridge being unplugged. With watering eyes he chewed and swallowed, it slid down his esophagus like broken glass. He felt his gag reflex trigger, but there was no time to vomit today. Instead, he grabbed his hat and bolted out the door.

 

As the wave of nausea subsided, he noticed how lovely it was outside. The scallops were chirping pleasantly, and the sky looked like a vibrant canvas with flowers on full display. He soaked it all in as he walked, but soon noticed a certain sponge walking ahead of him in the distance. Thankfully, SpongeBob was far enough down the street that he wasn’t alerted of his neighbor’s presence. But just to be safe, he slowed his pace as he waited for him to be out of sight.

 

When Squidward finally arrived at the Krusty Krab the restaurant was already packed. As he stepped inside every fish inside seemed to pause and turn their attention to him. He cleared his throat and headed for the register, pretending he didn’t the notice.

 

Noticing his arrival, Mr. Krabs hurried out of his office. “Mr. Squidward!” 

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

Mr. Krabs paused as he took in the sight of his employee. Squidward never looked particularly vibrant to him, but today it looked as if the very life had been wrung out of him. “Uh..” Mr. Krabs replied, gently rubbing the back of his head with his claw. “Nevermind, just get to work.”

 

Mr. Krabs started toward his office, then stopped. “Oh! And don’t forget to talk to SpongeBob. I want this settled before the lunch rush hits,” he called over his shoulder.

 

Squidward just nodded as he took his place behind the register.

 

He could hear SpongeBob working behind him, although this time there was no humming to accompany the clattering of his spatula. He was nervous to look back, but forced himself anyway. Their eyes met briefly, and then SpongeBob quickly slipped out of sight.

 

“Good grief..” Squidward groaned as he hung his head. “Things can never be easy, can they?”

 

SpongeBob remained in the kitchen for the next hour, all Squidward had caught sight of was his little yellow arm as it presented Krabby Patty after Krabby Patty on the ledge. Not a word had passed through the little window that separated them.

 

Eventually Squidward couldn’t tolerate the silence. “Okay that’s it!” he cried out in frustration, completely ignoring the food in the window.

 

The sudden outburst yet again attracted the customer’s attention. It was clear that hadn’t forgotten the last incident.

 

“Why didn’t they fire that guy? He’s clearly unstable,” whispered a female fish to her friend sitting beside her. 

 

The friend, clearly a bit more sensible, immediately shushed the fish and urged her to look away. Squidward shot her a glare but kept his mouth shut.

 

Squidward turned away from the gawking patrons and burst into the kitchen. His eyes were wild with urgency, causing SpongeBob to jump back with a yelp. He lost his footing and crashed into the condiment shelf, sending jars tumbling to the floor. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his already sore back.

 

He immediately approached SpongeBob and extended a tentacle, oblivious to how unhinged he must have looked. “Here let me-“

 

He was cut off by a sharp slap to his tentacle, and then there was silence.

 

Squidward took a cautious step back. “SpongeBob…?”

 

SpongeBob tried move further away from him, but he was already pressed up against the condiment shelf. “What do you want from me Squidward? I was doing what you asked, staying out of your sight! Is that still not enough for you?” he said as he raised his arms defensively over his face.

 

“Wait, SpongeBob! Listen, I’m not going to-“

 

SpongeBob cut him off again. “I-I know you hate me Squidward. And look, I get it! I’m weird and annoying..” he stuttered, his words choked by sobs.

 

SpongeBob paused, his expression suddenly grew more tense, and for a moment he stopped crying. “But let’s get one thing straight, you’ll never hate me as much as I hate myself sometimes.”

 

Something inside Squidward broke as he watched SpongeBob fall apart into a mess of tears and self loathing, and it felt like there was end in sight.

 

He tried to let him cry it out for a while, but eventually it became intolerable. “SpongeBob.. SpongeBob! Please, just listen!”

 

SpongeBob’s watery eyes shot up to meet Squidward’s, he had his attention.

 

“Now listen to me SpongeBob, and I’m begging you to not interrupt.”

 

Squidward came closer. “I’m sorry. For hurting you. I don’t hate you, okay?”

 

Squidward lowered himself to his knees so he was at eye level with SpongeBob. “I’ve been terrible to you, for so many years. I know that, and I let it get out of hand last week. I don’t know what came over me, but it wasn’t your fault. I’m seriously screwed up, SpongeBob. There’s something.. wrong with me,” he confessed.

 

SpongeBob stared back at him, tears slowly subsiding as he absorbed the words.  

 

SpongeBob looked at him curiously, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not this was some kind of prank. “You.. don’t hate me?”

 

“No. And I never have.”

 

SpongeBob raised a brow at him. “Why are always so mean to me then?”

 

Squidward took a deep breath. “Look, you’re annoying. I don’t think that will ever change, but I promise, I don’t hate you. Honestly, you could be a lot worse.”

 

Squidward attempted to give SpongeBob a reassuring smile, but it fell flat.

 

SpongeBob wiped his nose, still sniffling. 
“Okay..” 

 

That’s it? That’s all he has to say?

 

Squidward cleared his throat as he pulled himself off the ground. “So… um, do you forgive me?” 

 

SpongeBob smiled gently. 
“Of course, Squidward.” 

 

His smile seemed different, more restrained. Squidward could see a hint of sadness still lingering, and he realized how naive he had been to assume SpongeBob would immediately jump for joy at his apology.

 

Again, he reached out to SpongeBob, this time with both tentacles. He gently lifted him off the ground and pulled him into a tight embrace. SpongeBob back throbbed, but he stayed silent as his tears soaked through Squidward’s shirt.

 

Feeling the dampness, Squidward’s own eyes began to sting. “I really am sorry,” he whispered.

Chapter 9

Notes:

Revised on 9/2/2025

Squidward lingered in the embrace before finally pulling away, carefully placing SpongeBob back on the ground.

 

SpongeBob looked up at him and giggled. “Wow Squidward, I didn’t know you were such a softy!” he tears, eyes still shimmering in his eyes.

 

Squidward quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Heh… I’m really not.”  

An uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen. Squidward had no idea how to continue this conversation, or if it should be continued at all.

 

“Squidward,” said SpongeBob, his voice unusually low. “I really want to be your friend, but like for real this time.”

 

Squidward paused, looking at him again. “Why do you want to be my friend, SpongeBob?” 

 

SpongeBob grinned with childlike enthusiasm. “Well because I like you. Duh!”

 

Squidward sighed. “Obviously.”

 

Squidward placed his tentacles firmly on his shoulders. “I don’t understand you, SpongeBob. Even after all the contempt, belittling, and outright abuse I’ve thrown your way, you still want to be my friend?”

 

“Yep!” 

 

Squidward sighed and patted SpongeBob on the head, as if he were a child. “I think you may have finally lost it, SpongeBob,” he sighed. 

 

“Me? That’s crazy talk Squidward! I’m like the poster child for emotional stability!”

 

“Right..so,” Squidward began, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He glanced away, and then back again. “Anyway, what do we do now?”

 

“Well, next I have to clean the bathroom, then I have to replace the oil in the fryer and you should probably get-“ 

 

“No! SpongeBob that’s not what I meant.”

 

“Oh sorry Squidward! What did you mean?”

 

“I mean.. being friends? ‘Like for real’ as you so eloquently put it.”

 

“Well I’m glad you asked! We could start by talking more, you know, like about personal stuff! Let’s be real Squiddy, I think you owe me at least that,” he said with a wink.

 

Although he sounded playful, SpongeBob wasn’t joking. Squidward’s recent behavior, and the way he looked so worn out set off alarm bells in SpongeBob’s head. There was no way he was going to let this go without a fight.

 

Squidward rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that what therapists are for?” 

 

SpongeBob’s smile faltered, but before he could respond Squidward quickly back tracked. “Okay, okay! Fine, I’ll try… but I’m warning you, it won’t be easy. I’ll need you to keep up that.. patience of yours,” he said, trying to coax SpongeBob back into a smile.

 

Suddenly, a boisterous voice cut through the atmosphere like a blade. “Alright boyos, party’s over! You two have had plenty of time to patch things up, now get back to work!” Mr. Krabs hollered through the window.

 

“Aye, aye, sir!” SpongeBob answered cheerfully.

 

Squidward felt relief wash over him. Finally, it was done and over with. For now, at least.

 

Meanwhile, SpongeBob turned to face the condiment shelf where bottles of ketchup and mustard had tumbled to the ground. He picked them up in a hurry, hoping to avoid agitating Mr. Krabs further. As Squidward made his way toward the door, he caught a glimpse of SpongeBob as he was leaning over to clean up the mess, noticing bruising along his back.

 

Is that… from me? 

 

Squidward’s stomach dropped, he knew that SpongeBob’s fall in the kitchen couldn’t have caused all that. Suddenly, he felt sick.

 

Why am I like this? Why am I even here? Squidward thought as he left the kitchen.

 

His body was on autopilot as he took each customer’s order. He was hardly registering a thing he was saying. A certain thought kept nagging at him: what if he wasn’t around anymore? No doubt everyone would benefit from this in some way, especially SpongeBob. Sure, a few people might be sad at first, but in time he would fade like a distant memory.

 

Mr. Krabs would have to find a replacement, though any other person in Bikini Bottom could do his job better, maybe barring Patrick. He didn’t dwell too much on how it would affect his mother, they had been estranged for years and she probably wouldn’t even notice.

 

The more he thought about it, the more enticing the idea became, but then a wave of dizziness came over him. His heart thumped and stumbled in his chest.

 

Maybe I’ll just drop dead right now, behind the cash register .

 

A dry laugh escaped his mouth at the thought, and the customer facing him to look at him strangely. He didn’t have the energy care what anyone thought anymore.

 

He knew he wasn’t eating enough. It hadn’t been long, but he had been down a similar path before. He just couldn’t let SpongeBob notice the pattern too.

 

Finally, the influx of customers had died down, providing Squidward with a little relief. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart rate. He glanced back through the kitchen window to see SpongeBob, who was flipping patties to his hearts delight. A faint, melancholic smile spread across his tired face.

 

I’m sorry, SpongeBob. I’ve failed you already.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10

Notes:

Sorry this is kind of a short chapter, I’ve been so busy and have had a bit of writers block. I’m already working on the next chapter though so hoping to be able to post more in a few days. Anyways, hope you enjoy !

Revised on 9/2/2025

Each day blended together, leaving Squidward in a perpetual haze. Two weeks had passed. He had done his best to be warmer toward SpongeBob, but his determination was already slipping away. His obsession with food didn’t leave much room for anything else.

 

SpongeBob was still his usual annoying, bubbly self, but now he came with an onslaught of questions all day.

 

Hey, Squidward. Why aren’t you eating today ?

 

Hey, Squidward. What’s with those bags under your eyes?

 

Hey, Squidward. Why do you look extra sad today?

 

Knowing that SpongeBob had the best of intentions, he gritted his teeth and forced a smile, insisting that everything was fine.

 

I’m just not hungry.

 

I didn’t sleep well last night, thanks for pointing out the obvious.

 

That’s just my face, SpongeBob.

 

At this point, it felt like Squidward spent more time deflecting questions than actually doing his job. That didn’t say much though, considering most of his shift was spent either sleeping, or reading Fancy Living Digest. At least the extra pestering gave him a distraction from the constant, gnawing hunger.

 

SpongeBob’s head popped out from the kitchen window. “Hi Squiddy!”

Squidward turned around and looked up at him with a dull expression. “Yes, SpongeBob?” 

 

“How about a visit today after work?” 

 

“A visit? To where?” 

 

“Well my house of course! We could watch a movie, and I promise I’ll let you choose!”

 

Squidward turned from him, beginning to  fiddle with the cash register. “Sorry, I can’t tonight.”

 

SpongeBob clasped his hands together, his eyes huge and sparkling. “Pleeeease, Squidward?”

 

“And here we go..” 

 

Before Squidward could answer, SpongeBob came zooming out of the kitchen, skidding to a stop in front of him. Still with that pathetic look on his face, he came crashing to his knees in front of the register.

 

SpongeBob began hopping up and down wildly. “Please! Please! Please say yes, or I’ll make a scene in this restaurant! I swear, I’ll do it!”

 
Squidward’s face flushed with embarrassment, he quickly slapped a tentacle over SpongeBob’s mouth. “Be quiet, you lunatic!” 

 

SpongeBob pried the suction cups from his face with a loud pop. “So is that a yes?” he asked playfully.

 

“Yes, fine! Just knock it off with all the melodrama, you’re going to give me an aneurysm.”

 

SpongeBob almost lunged forward for a hug, but remembering what happened last time he pulled back just in time.

 

SpongeBob cleared his throat, taking a small step back. “Alright then! Be at my house at seven, Squiddy,” he said as he retreated to the kitchen.

 

Barnacles! Why did I give in?

 

With only an hour left until closing, Squidward felt relieved, at least he would have time to go home and mentally prepare. SpongeBob would definitely offer him something to eat, and last thing he wanted was to show up hungry. He planned to kill his appetite before he got there, drowning it in caffeine, nicotine, anything he had handy. He’d always looked down on smoking, but what did it matter now? What’s one more bad habit when you already have one tentacle in the grave?

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11

Notes:

Revised on 9/3/2025

The clock finally struck six. Squidward wouldn’t have even noticed if SpongeBob’s voice hadn’t snapped him back to reality.

 

“Hey Squidward! It’s time to head home. How about we walk together?” he asked, nudging him with an elbow.

 

Squidward quickly tried to think of an excuse, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. “Just go ahead without me. I have to talk to Mr. Krabs about something… I’ll see you in a little bit.”

 

Mr. Krabs had left an hour ago, but SpongeBob didn’t seem to notice. “Okay then, see ya soon!” he replied with a wave before bounding out the door.

 

Squidward paused, waiting until SpongeBob was far enough away that he could leave without being noticed.

 

As he stepped outside, he exhaled in relief as he was met with the sight of an amethyst sky. It was a cool evening, but still comfortable enough. He stood in place as he took it all in, watching intently as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. He was almost enjoying it until that vanishing glow became a reminder of his own emptiness.

 

Squidward moved on, refusing to dwell on it. He cast a swift glance from right to left as he walked, discreetly pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. His lungs hadn’t fully adjusted to the smoke and with each drag it burned, causing his eyes to water. The discomfort didn’t bother him, the satisfaction of feeling his hunger drift away was worth it. For a moment, he imagined how SpongeBob might react if he could see him. He could see it now: SpongeBob gasping in horror, then coming up with some ridiculous plan to “save” him.

 

He could smell the scent of smoke clinging to his own clothes and made a mental note to shower when he got home.

 

Squidward let out a sigh of relief as the familiar silhouette of his home became visible in the distance. With a sharp flick of his wrist Squidward tossed the cigarette to the ground, watching as the embers scattered across the pavement.

 

Meanwhile, next door SpongeBob was moving through his home in a whirlwind. The sound of dishes clattering and the steady hum of the vacuum accompanied his frantic efforts, as he spawned multiple appendages to expedite the process. He had to be certain that everything was in perfect order. He bounced from room to room, searching for anything that might displease Squidward.

 

“Oh dear Neptune!” he cried, realizing that some of his Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy comic books were laying out.

 

In a panic, he picked them up, hiding them as if they were some heinous secret. He seemed to have temporarily forgotten that Squidward already knew he was a massive dork. But he couldn’t allow him even one excuse to slip away.

 

SpongeBob saw this as an opportunity to get Squidward to open up, even just a little. He sincerely wanted to help, and he wondered what it was that kept Squidward so perpetually troubled.

 

He remembered when Squidward admitted that he didn’t have a ‘happiest memory’, that vacant look on his face had always haunted him. The thought made his chest ache, and then came a wave of remorse. How many times had his efforts to be a good friend failed? What if he only made things worse?

 
His hands trembled as he placed the few remaining comic books out of sight, and he thought to himself. Should I cancel, tell him I’m sick?

 

“If there is any part of you that actually cares about me, you will never speak nor look at me ever again.”

 

Those words played over and over in his mind, each echo tightening the growing knot in his stomach. Maybe there was more truth to those words than he wanted to admit.

 

SpongeBob wiped his face which was now slick with sweat. “Oh Neptune, this is the worst possible time. What if he hates everything? What if he hates you? He’ll be here any minute. Pull yourself together, SquarePants! You.. are a MAN!”

Chapter 12

Notes:

Revised on 9/3/2025

The moment SpongeBob heard the first knock his knees began to shake as a cold rush of dread surged through him.

 

Oh barnacles! What’s wrong with me?

 

Another knock followed, louder this time. Still, he couldn’t force himself to move.

 

“SpongeBob! If you don’t answer in the next ten seconds I’m leaving!” Squidward shouted through the steel door.

 

Okay, just act natural. 

 

“J-just a minute Squidward! I’m just uhh, clipping my toenails!”

 

Squidward crossed his tentacles around himself, tapping his foot impatiently. Those ten seconds he mentioned were slipping away.

 

“SpongeBob! You have three seconds before I-“

 

Before he could finish the sentence the door swung open with a bang. “Welcome Squidward!!” SpongeBob greeted, with a little too much enthusiasm.

 

Squidward paused, staring at him suspiciously before asking, “Uh, is everything okay?”

 

SpongeBob’s eye twitched and he smiled a little too widely. “Is everything okay? Everything is more than okay. You’re such a kidder, Squiddy!“

Squidward’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in close. “Are you on something, SpongeBob?”

 

SpongeBob tilted his head. “On.. something?” he repeated. “You mean like a new hobby?”

 

Squidward straightened up, letting out a long sigh. “Nevermind, forget I asked.”

 

Wanting to avoid more questions SpongeBob grabbed Squidward by the wrist and pulled him inside. As his hand lingered, he noticed for the first time how frail Squidward’s wrist had become. If he wasn’t such a ball of nerves, he may have thought more deeply about it, but the thought slipped away as quickly as it appeared.

 

As SpongeBob led Squidward through his home, he felt his stomach drop as he noticed they were headed straight for the kitchen. He yanked his tentacle from SpongeBob’s grip, stopped abruptly in place. “Wait, aren’t we supposed to watch a movie or something?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

 

“Uh, sure! But don’t you want something to drink?”

 

Squidward cleared his throat, forcing himself to relax. “Depends. What do you have?” he asked coolly.

 

Seemingly out of thin air, SpongeBob whipped out a bottle of Merlot. “Well.. I did get this for the occasion!” he said, offering it to Squidward with shaky hands. “I’m not much of a drinker, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to cater to your refined tastes for change.”

 

“That’s… actually really thoughtful of you, SpongeBob. But maybe I should take it from here?” Squidward said with a slight smile, gently relieving him of the bottle.

 

Drinking alcohol on an empty stomach, and with SpongeBob no less? What could possibly go wrong?

 

“Oh dahaha! Sure, I don’t know what I’m doing anyway.”

 

Squidward retrieved the two wine glasses from the counter, reluctantly filling them both. He wasn’t sure if SpongeBob could even handle alcohol, and it’s never something he cared to find out. As for himself, Squidward never intentionally drank to excess, though he wasn’t immune from going overboard on occasion. 

 

Once they both had their glasses, SpongeBob motioned for Squidward to take a seat. The whole situation felt foreign, neither had ever sat down together like this. Despite SpongeBob’s effort to provide a comfortable atmosphere, the awkwardness was impossible to ignore.

 

SpongeBob sat across from Squidward, his eyes fixated on the glass in his hands. It was obvious he was avoiding eye contact.

 

Squidward took a small sip. “So.. um, how are you?”

SpongeBob forced a smile. “I’m great! You know, as always.” 

 

Squidward didn’t say a word, just stared at him flatly.

 

SpongeBob began to squirm. “You know me, Squidward. Nothing can rain on my parade!”

 

With tentacles folded, Squidward leaned back in his chair and casually sipped his wine. He watched with skepticism, as SpongeBob launched into a monologue about the wonders of his life.

 

After hearing enough, Squidward interrupted the rambling, raising his tentacle in the air. “SpongeBob! Spare me the phony optimism, you aren’t fooling me.”

 

SpongeBob froze. “I’m not?” 

 

“No. Now please, for the love of Neptune, just tell me what’s wrong,” he said, with frustration veiling his concern.

 

SpongeBob shrunk down a little in his chair. “Do I have to?”

 

“Yes! And while you’re at it finish that wine, it might make this little crisis a bit more manageable.”

 

SpongeBob obeyed, beginning to drink the wine. Anticipating bitterness, he was pleasantly surprised by the smooth, fruity flavor. “Wow Squidward, I wish I could be as assertive as you,” he said with a faint smile.

 

Squidward tilted his head, unsure if SpongeBob was teasing him. “Stop trying to change the subject.”  

 

“Stop being so rude, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

 

Squidward paused, the sudden shift in attitude throwing him off. Although barely perceptible, there was a sly grin spread across SpongeBob’s face. And now, he had no idea what to expect next.

Chapter 13

Notes:

Revised on 9/3/2025

Squidward hadn’t expected this kind of tension, certainly not so soon. As aggravating as it was, there was a flicker of intrigue too. Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder what really went on in that little sponge’s head. And perhaps, maybe it would be useful, to focus on someone else’s problems rather than his own. 

 

“SpongeBob, can you please tell me what’s going on? I would really like to know,” he coaxed, lowering his voice.

 

SpongeBob carefully poured himself another glass of wine, his face unreadable. “Why?” 

 

The wine was already starting to take effect. He felt a surge of confidence as the warmth rushed to his face, making his freckled cheeks appear even more flushed than before.

 

“Why, what?” 

 

“Why do you want to know so badly?” 

 

Squidward waved his tentacle dismissively. “That’s an absurd question.” 

 

“Not fair, Squiddy. If I have to answer, so do you.”

 

“Life’s not fair, kid.”

 

SpongeBob shook his head, swirling his glass deliberately. “It seems you’ve forgotten that I’m a grown man, Squidward. The days of childhood are long gone. I mean, just look at me.”

 

Squidward leaned against the table, chin propped up on his tentacles. “Oh really , SpongeBob? I didn’t know that grown men still slept with stuffed animals. That’s truly fascinating.” He smirked, letting out a quiet sigh. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, I guess,” he added, letting out a nasally laugh.

 

SpongeBob couldn’t help but join in on the giggling, letting go of his mature facade for a moment. Their laughter gradually subsided, leaving them in an awkward silence. Finally, SpongeBob said something.

 

“What helps you sleep at night, Squidward?”

 

Squidward hesitated before answering,“Nothing, I don’t sleep much. Not anymore at least.”

 

 
SpongeBob set his glass to the side. “How come?”

 

“Well, I guess my mind is always racing.”

 

 SpongeBob leaned forward with curiosity.
“Well, what do you think about?” 

 

“It’s not easy to explain, and frankly it’s none of your business, SpongeBob.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Squidward, it can’t be that hard to explain. I thought you were an ‘intellectual.’”

“It’s hardly a matter of my intellect. And don’t think you’re so slick, I can see right through you.” 

 

“Well, of course you can! I am a sponge, after all. Dahaha!”

 

Squidward remained stone faced as he took another sip of wine.

 

SpongeBob cleared his throat, giggling nervously. “Heh, sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

 

“My mood is rarely light, you’d be better off not wasting your energy.”

 

SpongeBob frowned and set his glass to the side. “You know, my mood isn’t always so light either,” he said as he began to fidget with his hands. “Like right before you got here, for example.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“Well, I mean... I don’t know, it’s just that…”

 

Squidward tapped his tentacle on the table, his eyes wandering to the clock on the wall. “I don’t have all night, SpongeBob.”

 

“I’m trying Squidward! I just, uhh, well I was nervous. You’ve been even more down than usual, and I didn’t want to make your day worse.”

 

Squidward’s eyes shifted back to SpongeBob. He felt his heart soften a little, but said nothing.

 

SpongeBob lowered his voice. “I was thinking about when you told me that if I really cared about you, I should remove myself from your life. If that’s ever what you really want, I’d respect it. So… if that means me leaving, then so be it.” 

 

Squidward looked at him with astonishment. “Leave? Don’t you think you’re being just a tad overzealous , SpongeBob?” 

 

SpongeBob’s eyes glistened as he shook his head with conviction.

 

Squidward’s eyes widened. “You would seriously uproot your entire life just for a friend’s happiness?” 

 

SpongeBob shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Well, yeah. Wouldn’t you?” 

 

“Um, no,” Squidward answered flatly.

 

Then, with sudden urgency, he threw his tentacles up. “But I wouldn’t be any happier if you left! So knock it off, SpongeBob,” he scolded.

SpongeBob’s face lit up, his lip quivering ever so slightly. “You really mean that, Squidward?” 

 

Squidward rolled his eyes before admitting, “It pains me to say it, but yes. I can only imagine how dull life would be without your constant tomfoolery.”

 

Without warning, SpongeBob sprang from his seat, embracing Squidward in a hug that nearly took them both to the floor.

 

Squidward grasped at the table to steady them. “S-SpongeBob! Are you trying to give me a concussion?!”

 

“Oh, Squidward! You don’t know how much you’ve warmed my heart!” SpongeBob exclaimed, still clinging to him.

 

Again, SpongeBob noticed how fragile Squidward felt beneath him. A pang of worry shot through him, but not wanting to spoil the moment he didn’t say a word.

 

“Don’t get too sentimental on me. I work hard to maintain my icy exterior,” Squidward said, a small smile breaking through.

 

“Aww, see! I knew there was a heart buried in there somewhere!”

 

Squidward wiggled free from the embrace, “Yeah, whatever.”

 

As SpongeBob returned to where he was sitting, the clock caught his eye. “Wow! Look at that, Squidward. It’s only been 45 minutes, the night is still young!”

 

Squidward’s eyes shot over to the clock to confirm that SpongeBob was in fact not deceiving him.

 

Neptune, help me .

Chapter 14

Notes:

Revised on 9/3/2025

Squidward slouched low in his chair. “So now what, SpongeBob?” 

 

He was totally spent, mentally and physically. He could barely keep his eyes open, and the mix of hunger and alcohol made the feel like it was tilting.

 

Suddenly, SpongeBob hopped to his feet and made his way to the fridge. “Want something to eat?”

 

Squidward broke into a sweat as he watched SpongeBob fling open the refrigerator door. Don’t give in Squiddy, just say no. You’ll regret it tomorrow when you step on that scale, he thought, wiping the moisture from his face.

 

Squidward shook his head despite the fact that his stomach was audibly growling. “N-no thanks.”

 

SpongeBob looked at him with concern.“You’re not hungry?”

 

Squidward turned away, pretending to inspect the wine bottle. “Nope. Not at all.”

 

SpongeBob’s hand was still holding the fridge door ajar. “Uh are you sure about that? I didn’t see you eat on your lunch break earlier.”

 

“So what if I didn’t? I ate this morning.” 

 

SpongeBob fell silent for a moment, closing the fridge door at a snail-like pace as he tried to find the right words. “Are you feeling alright, Squidward? I mean, I hardly see you eat anymore and you look… tired.” The door finally clicked shut, and SpongeBob began to scratch at his chin. “Well, actually now that I think about it, I don’t see you eat at all.”

 

Squidward’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t respond.

 

“Are you sick or something?” asked SpongeBob, taking advantage of the silence.

 

Squidward abruptly straightened up. “I’m fine, SpongeBob! If you must know, I’m on a diet. Yeah, just a diet! I eat, and very healthfully might I add.”

 

“Then why don’t you look healthy?” 

 

With a scowl, Squidward slowly rose from the chair. “What’s that supposed to mean, SpongeBob?” 

 

SpongeBob took a few steps back, shrinking under Squidward’s gaze. “Well, I-I just, I meant that you j-just look, uhh -“

 

Squidward cut him off, jabbing a tentacle in his direction. “You think I don’t own a mirror? I know I’m  disgusting, SpongeBob! And I don’t need you rubbing it in!”

 

"None of that is true, Squidward," SpongeBob said softly, his hands clasped together. "Please… stop yelling."

 

“Isn’t it true?” Squidward’s said, his shoulders beginning to slump. “Just look at me, SpongeBob. I’m a loser. I’m old, ugly, and fat .” After speaking that last word, he sunk to his knees pitifully.

 

SpongeBob moved closer, gently placing a hand on Squidward’s head. "Why are you being so mean to yourself?"

 

“Because, I deserve it.” Squidward finally choked out, “Every bit of it.”

 

“Squidward…” SpongeBob whispered, feeling his friend tremble beneath him.

 

“My life is a joke, SpongeBob. And it’s not even a funny one. It’s all pointless,” he murmured, shifting away from SpongeBob’s touch. “Maybe it’s time I stopped waiting for something to change.”

 

SpongeBob swallowed hard. “W-What do you mean by that?”

 

Squidward scoffed, pulling himself off the ground as he looked down at SpongeBob. “Just forget about it. I have to go.”

 

SpongeBob scrambled to his feet, lunging toward Squidward without hesitation. “No! Wait, please!” he cried, grabbing onto him by the ankles. “You shouldn’t be alone!”

 

Squidward started toward the door, dragging SpongeBob behind him without mercy. “You can’t leave yet Squidward! We haven’t watched a movie, or played any board games! Or maybe you could play your clarinet for me?”

 

“I’m tired.”

 

“Well you can sleep here, you can even take my bed!”

 

“I prefer my own, thanks.” 

 

SpongeBob screamed and begged, trying everything he could think of to make Squidward stay. But eventually, Squidward yanked his legs free and stepped out in the darkness without a word.

 

SpongeBob sat there, stunned. Moments ago, it felt like they had finally grown closer, but now it seemed that a chasm wider than the Mariana Trench stretched between them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 15

Notes:

TW - Vomiting

Revised on 9/4/2025

SpongeBob sat on the floor motionless, struggling to process what had just happened. Squidward was gone, off in a state of mind that could only lead to disaster.

 

Dear Neptune, is Squidward going to… ?

 

SpongeBob didn’t want to even entertain the thought, but his imagination began taking him places that he never dared to go. What would happen to Squidward tonight, left all alone like that? For a moment, he imagined it. Finding Squidward somewhere, silent, still. It made him sick.

 

Before he knew it he was hit with a wave of nausea. He doubled over, gagging as he emptied his stomach onto the living room floor. For a moment he just knelt there, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

 

After wiping his mouth with a shaky hand, SpongeBob pulled himself up from the floor. He looked at the mess in front of him and sighed. He couldn’t waste time with this, he had to pull himself together.

 

Once on his feet he rushed to the window, peeking outside in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Squidward. But the house was dark, and SpongeBob wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

 

Without thinking, SpongeBob went straight to Squidward’s door. He knew he was being a pest but he couldn’t take any chances.

 

He knocked frantically, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Squidwaaaard!!”

 

There was nothing.

 

He continued pounding on the door with all of his strength. “Squidward! Please answer me! I’ll come in if I have to, I’m warning you! I know how to get inside!”

 

Before he could say another word, he heard a familiar voice call out to him. “Hey, SpongeBob!”

 

SpongeBob took a deep breath before turning to face him. “Hi, Patrick. This really isn’t a good time.” 

 

“A good time for what?” 

 

“For whatever it is you want!” SpongeBob snapped, his arms flailing in agitation.

 

Patrick threw up his arms and took a step back. “Woah, SpongeBob, take it easy! I just was gonna let you know that Squidward isn’t home.”

 

SpongeBob grabbed the starfish by his skin folds, pulling him so close that their faces were nearly touching. “Where is he, Patrick?!”

 

Patrick pushed his friend back to a comfortable distance. “SpongeBob… Do you ever think you might like Squidward a little too much?”

 

“This is no time for jokes, Patrick. Just tell me where he went, please!” 

 

Patrick shrugged. “Uhh, well I don’t know. I saw him walking down the street, I asked him where he was going but he just told me to ‘go home’. He didn’t yell at me this time though, it was kinda weird.” 

 
“Which way did he go? This is really important, Pat!”

 

Patrick scratched his head. “Sorry buddy, I’m not sure.”

 

SpongeBob exhaled deeply, relieved to at least have something to go off of. ”Okay. Thanks, Pat. I have to go now, but if you see Squidward, could you do something for me?”

 

“What’s that?” Patrick asked, tilting his head slightly. 

 

SpongeBob looked him in the eye, gripping his shoulders tightly. “Don’t let Squidward out of your sight. I don’t care what you have to do, just don’t take your eyes off of him. Do you promise you’ll do this?”

 

“I’m on it SpongeBob!”

 

Although he wasn’t sure Patrick would actually follow his instructions, he felt grateful nonetheless. He knew Patrick would try, in his own way. SpongeBob pulled him into a tight hug before darting off into the night.

Chapter 16

Notes:

Revised on 9/5/2025

SpongeBob bolted through the dimly lit streets of Bikini Bottom, his head whipping in every direction. He shouted Squidward’s name, neglecting not a single alleyway or side street. The night felt oddly still, save the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears.

 

Feeling breathless, SpongeBob finally slowed his pace. Straightening up, he scanned the street to see what was open. Squidward rarely left his home at night; the so called “nightlife” of Bikini Bottom being far too vulgar for his tastes.

 

SpongeBob’s eyes landed on a little tavern at the end of the block. Its tattered sign reading Black Water Lounge. It was clearly a place Squidward wouldn’t be caught dead in. But tonight, he couldn’t dismiss even the most unlikely possibility.

 

With trembling knees, SpongeBob moved cautiously toward the entrance. It reminded him of the Salty Spitoon, but now he felt that slipping on an ice cube might be the least of his concerns.

 

Here’s goes nothin’

 

SpongeBob pushed the heavy metal door open, eliciting a loud creak that was swallowed up by blaring punk music. As he stepped inside, every eye turned to him. He froze in the doorway. The place was packed with all kind of interesting looking fish-folk, their scales covered in tattoos, their fins pierced with gleaming metal, leather jackets patched and frayed.

 

Some eyes narrowed with suspicion, while others looked only confused. However, most quickly lost interest in SpongeBob’s presence, shrugging as they went about their business.

 

After making his way through the crowd, he quickly realized Squidward was nowhere to be found. Not surprising, but still disappointing. With a heavy sigh, he climbed up on the nearest barstool. He propped his elbows on the grimy bar surface, staring down at his hazy reflection.

 

The bartender glanced at him. “Hey, little sponge guy, you lost?”

 

The fish appeared to be in his mid forties. His jet black hair was unkempt, falling in greasy strands around his collarbones, and his face was scarred with poorly executed tattoos. Despite this, there was softness in his eyes.

 

SpongeBob looked up at the man, studying his face for a moment before answering, “Uh, well, yes and no.”

 

The man leaned in close to SpongeBob, lowering his voice, “I don’t wanna freak you out kid, but you need to be careful in here, alright? Most of the folks in here are solid, we go way back. But there are few wingnuts in the mix. You understand?”

 

SpongeBob chuckled nervously, fidgeting with his tie. “Heh, yeah I think I know what you mean.”

 

He pulled back from SpongeBob before grabbing a glass from the counter. “So what can I get ya?”

 

“Do you guys have ice cream?”

 

The bartender blinked at him. “Uh, sorry. What?”

 

SpongeBob’s cheeks instantly flushed. “Oh, pardon me. I-I mean... Jim Beam! Dahaha!“

 

He smiled crookedly before sliding a shot of bourbon across the counter. “Careful now, that stuff is strong.”

 

SpongeBob swallowed as he looked at the little glass. He knew the name, but had never actually tried it. With a deep breath he brought the glass to his lips, wincing as it seared its way down his throat. “T-Thanks!” he croaked, forcing a smile.

 

The bartender tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice someone so out of place. There was some kind of strange pity that was drawn out of him as he watched SpongeBob fidget. “You seem pretty on edge, dude. You got some kind of tale of woe you wanna share? I’m all ears.”

 

SpongeBob’s throat tightened. “Y-yes. I do indeed have a tale of woe, my good man.”

 

“Go on then.”

 

“Well, you see… I have this friend. And he’s been really, really down lately. And I mean really down. So I invited him over tonight, hoping to cheer him up, but… oh barnacles, it all went terribly wrong. I-I made him so angry. Then he just… freaked out. After that he ran off, and now I can’t find him anywhere!”

 

“That’s tough, man. What did you do to set him off like that?”

 

“I uhh.. well, I brought up his eating habits.”

 

The bartender picked up a nearby rag as he began to clean the empty shot glass. “Yeah, people don’t usually like that.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so! But… I mean, he’s gotten so skinny. It’s actually kinda scary, I never see him eat. I, uhh, only brought it up cause I care about him, you know?”

 

He stopped cleaning the glass and looked at SpongeBob curiously. “Oh.. is he one of those?”

 

SpongeBob titled his head. “One of those? What do you mean?”

 

“You know.. an anorexic,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s an eating disorder. My wife had it, almost killed her. I’m not really religious, but I thank Neptune everyday that she’s still by my side.”

 

SpongeBob eyes widened. “Wait, what’s an eating disorder?”

 

“It’s a psychological thing, man. You’ve seriously never heard of it? It… uh, makes it hard to eat normally, a lot of people die from it. Some folks starve themselves to death. Others binge and purge, and end up dead with their head hanging over the toilet seat.”

 

SpongeBob gnawed at his fingernails as he listened. Was this what Squidward was doing to himself?

 

SpongeBob shook his head. “That’s terrible, just awful! Do you really think my friend might have… this kind of issue?”

 

“I’m no doctor, kid. But if he does, he needs help, and fast.”

 

With a sudden burst of energy, SpongeBob slammed his hands onto the counter. “Oh poor Squidward! How could this happen?!”

 

The bartender quickly held up his fin, signaling SpongeBob to calm down. “Hold up, is your friend a cephalopod?”

 

SpongeBob’s face lit up. “Yes, he is! Why? Have you seen him?!”

 

“I think so. Bald, big nose, tan shirt?”

 

“That’s him! Who was he with? What was he doing? Do you know where he went?!” he asked, nearly hyperventilating as he rattled off each question.

 

“Okay, you really need to take a deep breath little guy. You’re not gonna like what I’m about to tell you.”

 

SpongeBob drew nearer to him, practically crawling over the bar in the process. “Just tell me!” 

 

The bartender furrowed his brows, casting a glance to each side. “He came alone, looked pretty out of it. He wandered around for a bit, didn’t buy any drinks. I saw him talking to a couple of dealers, and then he left. That’s all I saw.”

 

SpongeBob paused, tapping a finger against his chin. “Dealers? Like entrepreneurs?”

 

“C’mon kid, you can’t be this naive.”

 

SpongeBob shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

 

The bartender exhaled in frustration before answering, “Drugs.”

 

With a scoff, SpongeBob crossed his arms. “What? Squidward would never. He’s a perfectly law abiding citizen!” 

 

“You’d be surprised at the things people do when they hit rock bottom.”

 

SpongeBob fell silent.

 

“You better find your friend fast. He might do something stupid. And who knows what that stuff they’re selling is laced with.”

 

SpongeBob’s heart sank. “You mean they add extra things to drugs to make them more.. dangerous?”

 

“Welcome to reality, kid. Now quit wasting time, go find him.”

 

Without hesitation, SpongeBob leapt off the barstool. He started towards the door but stopped, glancing back toward the bar.  “Thanks for everything. Oh, wait! What’s your name? I didn’t catch it. Mine’s SpongeBob!”

 

“Puppy.”

 

SpongeBob cupped his ear. “Uh, come again?”

 

“You heard me. If our paths ever cross again, I’ll tell you how I got that name.”

 

SpongeBob wasn’t sure what to make of that but grinned anyway. “Okay then!”

 

Puppy nodded as he watched SpongeBob wave goodbye, a hint of worry in his eyes. “See you around, SpongeBob.”

Chapter 17

Notes:

Revised on 9/6/2025

SpongeBob stepped out into the night again, the cool sea water nipping at his pores. Squidward’s whereabouts were still a mystery, but nonetheless, SpongeBob buzzed with determination. He knew Squidward needed him now more than ever.

But he couldn’t do this alone. He needed someone sharp, competent. He flipped through his mind like an index as he quickened his pace, bubbles trailing behind him. Only one name stood out among the rest.

 

Sandy.

 

SpongeBob froze before pivoting sharply in the other direction. His feet splashed through puddles, sending tiny droplets scattering. The dull lights of the storefront windows blurred by him as he sprinted straight for the treedome. It loomed in the distance, but still seemed so out of reach.

 

At last, SpongeBob reached the entrance of the darkened treedome. Gasping for breath, he pounded both of his fists against the door. “Hello?! Sandy, I need you! This is an emergency!”

 

The treedome door unlocked with a sudden click as the water gradually drained out. Sandy stood there, water helmet tucked under her arm, looking less than pleased to see him. “SpongeBob! What in tarnation do y’all need at this hour? It better be an actual emergency this time.”

 

“It is, Sandy! I promise. Squidward is in trouble, and I think he’s going to do something really bad!”

 

She took a step closer, her expression softening. “What’s goin’ on with Squidward?”

 

SpongeBob grabbed Sandy by the wrist, dragging her towards the door. “We need to go, now! I think Squidward is going to hurt going to do something terrible! I’ll explain everything on the way.”

 

She said nothing, only nodded as she hastily slipped on her air suit.

 

SpongeBob led the way with urgency, Sandy could hardly keep up with him. His voice shook as he struggled to explain all that had happened. Eventually slowing down to catch his breath, SpongeBob turned and looked at her. “Do you think we should just call the police?”

 

“I reckon we hold off on that idea, SpongeBob. You know how incompetent the law enforcement is in this town. And if Squidward has somethin’ illegal on him, it’ll only make his life a heck of lot harder if he gets caught.”

 

SpongeBob nodded hesitantly. “Alright Sandy, I hope you’re right.”

 

Sandy cleared her throat, glancing away for a moment. “Let’s just… keep movin’, Where have you not checked?”

 

“Well I’ve checked almost everywhere. The only places left are Goo Lagoon and the Krusty Krab.”

 

Sandy raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t checked the Krusty Krab?” 

 

SpongeBob frowned. “What? Squidward hates being there! He’s always looking for an excuse to leave work early.”

 

“So, you checked every dive bar in town, but not the place y’all work?“

 

SpongeBob’s shoulders stiffened. “Please don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”

 

Sandy gave him a knowing look, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, SpongeBob. You’re right, and I’m not tryin’ to make you feel bad. This is all just.. well, a big ol’ mess. But we’re gonna find him, I just know it.”

 

SpongeBob met her eyes, a faint smile crossing his lips. “It’s okay, Sandy.”

 

“Now, since we don’t have much time to spare I think it would be wise if we split up. I’ll search Goo Lagoon, you go to the Krusty Krab. If he’s not there, check his house again. Got it, SpongeBob?”

 

“Got it.”

 

The pair parted ways, setting off towards their destinations. At this point, SpongeBob was on the brink of exhaustion. And if Squidward wasn’t at the Krusty Krab, he feared he would suffer a meltdown of his own.

 

You’re almost there SquarePants, you can do this! Just a few.. more..

 

Before he could finish his thought, SpongeBob tripped over his own feet, slamming face-first into the concrete. The rough surface tore at his porous skin, sending jolts of stinging pain through his body. “Dear Neptune, why?!” he cried, clutching his face.

 

He slowly lowered his hands from his face, wincing as he noticed they were streaked with red. “Barnacles…” he groaned.

 

Tilting his head upwards, he spotted the comforting sight of the Krusty Krab. Forgetting the sting of the injury he staggered to his feet, praying that the door was open.

 

A faint glow could be seen at the back of the restaurant. SpongeBob, ever meticulous in his duties, never failed to make sure every light was turned off before leaving. It had to be Squidward, there was no other explanation.

 

SpongeBob reached for the door and pushed, and to his surprise it swung open effortlessly. “Squidward?! Are you here?”

 

There was no response, but SpongeBob could hear movement coming from the kitchen. With a burst of energy, he flung open the kitchen door, and then froze. The floor was littered with empty food wrappers and half eaten Krabby Patties, cigarette butts mingling with the wreckage. In the middle of it all, Squidward lay curled up like a small child.

 

SpongeBob rushed to Squidward, kneeling down beside him. “S-Squidward! Thank Neptune you’re alive! I’ve been looking for you all night!” 

 

Squidward groaned, refusing to look at him. “SpongeBob… why are you here?”

 

“Why am I here?” SpongeBob echoed.

 

Squidward slowly sat up, brushing a few discarded food wrappers off himself. “Why are you so persistent, SpongeBob? You can’t even let me die in peace, can you?” 

 

SpongeBob shook his head, whispering, “No, I can’t.”

 

Squidward finally looked at him. “Just give up, SpongeBob.. I already have.” 

 

SpongeBob gently took him by the shoulders. “I-I just… don’t want to lose you, okay? Let me help you.”

 

Squidward scoffed.
“I don’t want help. I want to disappear.”

 

SpongeBob tightened his grip. “I won’t let you!”

 

Squidward flinched in response, his eyes growing wide. “But, why?”

 

“Because… you’re my friend, and I love you.” he said, trembling as he pressed his face into Squidward’s chest.

 

Squidward’s throat tightened. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak.

 

SpongeBob drew in a shaky breath as he looked back up at Squidward. “You really think that after all these years of working together, living side by side, that I would just stand by and let you do this? Do you think I could just forget about you”

 

He blinked away his tears, offering a broken smile. “Bikini Bottom would never be the same without you.“

 

After a long pause, Squidward reached behind himself and produced a small bag of white pills. He looked away with shame, gently placing it in SpongeBob’s hands. “Here. Take this, before I do something stupid.”  

 

SpongeBob quickly stuffed the bag into his back pocket. “Thank you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Squidward.

 

Squidward let himself ease into the embrace just for a moment. “You’re, uh… welcome. I guess.”

 

Still holding onto him, SpongeBob quietly asked, “Will you let me take you to the hospital?”

 

Squidward tensed up. “The hospital? Why? I gave you the pills.”

 

“Squidward…”

 

Squidward sharply pulled away. “No! Please, SpongeBob. Anywhere, but not there.”

 

SpongeBob raised his hands in air, giving Squidward some space. “Okay, just breathe. Will you come to my place then? So I can keep an eye on you?”

 

Squidward hesitated before answering. “Alright, fine. But what about this mess? Mr. Krabs will have a stroke if he sees it.”

 

“Oh, that? It’s nothing! I’ll come to work early and clean it all up. Mr. Krabs won’t notice a thing,” SpongeBob said, patting his back reassuringly.

 

Squidward felt puzzled, yet moved. There were so many things he wanted to say. Not tonight, but someday. “Thanks, SpongeBob.”

 

SpongeBobs hopped to his feet, extending a hand to Squidward. “Anytime, Squiddy!” 

 

 “Uh.. by the way, what happened to your face?” 

 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Chapter 18

Notes:

Revised on 9/8/2025

Squidward woke up in a haze, panic striking him the moment he realized he wasn’t in his own bed. He bolted upright, scrambling to his feet before remembering. “Oh… that’s right.”’

 

His tentacles hung limply off of the mattress, his stomach churning at the taste of stale tobacco lingering on his tongue. He took a few steady breaths, trying to fight off the nausea. His eyes then shifted to the door. Was SpongeBob already at work, cleaning up the evidence?

 

For a moment, he considered skipping work. But he quickly made his decision. He couldn’t do that to SpongeBob, not after all the stress he had just subjected him to.

 

He forced himself up, staggering down the stairwell with tentacles dragging behind him. The living room was in disarray, clothes and sheets were scattered about, SpongeBob had clearly been in a hurry. He glanced at the clock: five a.m. Just enough time to get ready for work.

 

Now in the privacy of his own home, Squidward went straight for the shower. He closed his eyes, letting the steam envelop him. He wished this kind of calm could last forever, but the thoughts of last night lingered, reminding him that nothing good ever does.

 

He shut off the faucet with a squeak and  wrapped a towel around his slender waist. He hummed softy to himself, hoping to drown out his thoughts.

 

His eyes wandered to the bathroom scale. It had become second nature at this point, but something caused him to hesitate. Of course the number would be higher after such a binge. Why torment himself?

 

You don’t need this right now. Just walk away, it’ll always be there tomorrow.

 

But you need to know, Squidward. If you neglect this now, you’ll lose control. Do you really want that?

 

No! But it’s just one day, what damage could really be done?

 

Remember last night? You’re clearly capable of doing more damage than you think.

 

Squidward’s attempt at reasoning with the voice in his head ultimately failed. He drew a breath and slowly stepped onto the scale. Just as he suspected, five pounds up. Usually, seeing an increase would spark anxiety, or even rage. But now, a deep, suffocating sadness began to swallow him whole. It felt like grief, and in a way it was. He mourned not just his lack of control, but the man he used to be.

 

Stepping off the scale, he stared up at the fogged mirror. He almost reached to wipe it clean, but stopped himself. He fled the bathroom in a hurry.

 

As Squidward walked to work, nothing seemed to be able to distract him from his misery. All he could think about was the number on the scale, what he was going to do about it, and the unsettling faltering of his heartbeat. Somehow, the palpitations seemed the least concerning.

 

Stepping inside the Krusty Krab felt almost surreal now. It was difficult to look back at that kitchen and not remember how it felt to completely let go. In the moment it was thrilling, but at the same time Squidward could hardly recognize himself in the memory. It unfolded itself in front of his eyes as if he were on the other side of a screen, watching something distant and obscene. And yet, this was his life now.

 

He stood there, staring for a few moments, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Mr. Krabs could be seen sniffing the floor in a frantic search for loose change, while the top of SpongeBob’s hat peeked out from behind the grill.

 

As SpongeBob noticed his presence he perked up and smiled, coming out from the kitchen to greet him. “Good morning Squidward!” 

 

Surprisingly, Squidward didn’t feel instantly annoyed. He let a small but genuine smile slip through. “Hi, SpongeBob.”

 

Whether Squidward liked it or not, his animosity was starting to fade. In a sense, SpongeBob knew him better than anyone else now. He had seen him at his lowest point, and hadn’t abandoned him. He had come closer than anyone ever had.

 

“Wow! Was that a smile I just saw?” SpongeBob pointed out, feeling giddy at the sight of something so rare.

 

Squidward let out a quiet chuckle as he walked to the register. “Don’t get used to it.” 

 

SpongeBob giggled quietly before skipping back to the kitchen, a mix of excitement and worry stirring inside him. Even seeing the slightest shift in Squidward’s demeanor was encouraging, but he knew there was still a long way to go.

 

The night before, after Squidward had fallen asleep, SpongeBob had called Sandy to explain everything. And being Sandy, she shared everything she possibly could on the subject. His sleep deprived mind hadn’t absorbed it all, but he felt sure he had enough to go on.

 

SpongeBob leaned out the kitchen window and tapped Squidward gently on the shoulder. “Hey, Squiddy,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Will you come to Jellyfish Fields with me after work? Don’t worry… just to talk.”

 

Squidward hesitated at first. “Sure,” he murmured softly, before looking away.

 

I owe you that much, Sponge.

Chapter 19

Notes:

Revised on 9/10/2025

Dusk had settled in, and SpongeBob could feel his stomach twisting into knots . He looked down, noticing his trembling hands. Every attempt at trying to reach Squidward only seemed to spiral into chaos. Still, he couldn’t give up.

 

The moment Mr. Krabs flipped the sign, their eyes met. SpongeBob flashed an overly eager grin to Squidward, who returned it with a stiff smile and a curt nod.

 

Mr. Krabs, picking up on the strange tension, eyed them suspiciously. “What’s wrong with the both of ya?! You look like you’re hidin’ some dirty little secret.” 

 

SpongeBob straightened up, his words tumbling out in a mess, “N-nothing, Mr. Krabs! Squidward and I are just umm… really looking forward to uhh… practicing our interpretive dance routine together tonight! That’s all!” 

 

“Erm. Well, that’s a bit disturbin’, but you two lads have fun I suppose,” Mr. Krabs replied, giving them a side eye as he scuttled out of the restaurant.

 

Squidward narrowed his eyes at SpongeBob. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

 

“I’m afraid so, dahaha!”

 

Squidward found it difficult to stay irritated for long, and though SpongeBob didn’t know it, he was just as anxious to talk.

 

He grabbed SpongeBob by the wrist, nearly dragging him out of the Krusty Krab. “Whatever, let’s just go.”

 

On the way to Jellyfish fields, no words were spoken. Squidward’s gaze remained glued to the horizon, and SpongeBob twiddled his thumbs nervously as he inwardly counted each pebble along their path.

 

Eventually, SpongeBob broke the silence, pointing ahead. “Look, Squidward! It’s where we watched the sunset together that one time,” he exclaimed, motioning for Squidward to follow him. “Do you remember?”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

They sat together on the soft grass. SpongeBob shifted around awkwardly, while Squidward forced himself to be patient as he waited for him to speak first.

 

With his confidence fading, SpongeBob delicately ran his fingers through the blades of grass. “So, I, uhh. I just wanted to..” he trailed off, turning his face away.

 

Squidward reached out for SpongeBob, pivoting him so that he was facing him directly. “I’m sorry.”

 

SpongeBob felt a lump forming in his throat as he looked back at him. “Squidward… you don’t need to apologize. I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

 

Squidward’s eyes softened. “But I’m really not, am I?”

 

SpongeBob paused, drawing in a sharp breath. “Well… that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

“Just say whatever you need to say.”

 

“Do you have an eating disorder, Squidward?”

 

It wasn’t a shock that Spongebob knew, but hearing him be so explicit, to use that phrase, it made it all the more real. And along with this reality came an ache that pierced straight through him.

 

Squidward’s lips began to tremble, he couldn’t speak. He drew his knees to his chest, burying his face in humiliation. And in an instant, he felt himself being pulled into SpongeBob’s arms.

 

For a while, he lingered silently in the warm embrace. Then, slowly, he reached out for SpongeBob’s hand. “Y-Yes, I do,” he whispered, squeezing it tight.

 

SpongeBob wanted to be strong for Squidward, but who was he kidding? Nothing could hold him together now.

 

Overcome by a wave of panic, SpongeBob grabbed Squidward’s face, tilting it toward  his own. “Look at me, Squidward. We… we have to get you help! You’re… dying for Neptune’s sake!” 

 

Squidward pulled SpongeBob’s hands from his face. “I.. I know I’m dying.”

 

“Which is why, there are some things I need to say to you.”

 

SpongeBob could barely contain his tears, but looked at him intently. “Go ahead,” he nodded, his voice shaking.

 

Squidward cleared his throat, his gaze shifting to one side. “It’s not easy for me to say this, you know I’m not the most affectionate guy. And Neptune knows, I have my reasons.” He wrung his tentacles together slowly before summoning the courage to meet SpongeBob’s eyes again. “But… I want you to know how grateful I am to have ever met you, SpongeBob.”

 

The sun had set in Bikini Bottom, but not even the darkness could dull the light in SpongeBob’s eyes. The temptation to speak began to nag at him, but he kept quiet.

 

He caught the look on SpongeBob’s face, and a fleeting smile spread across his own. He took a steadying breath before continuing, “Now I won’t lie and say that you haven’t been a thorn in my side for all these years, but I know now that as piercing and intrusive as you are… you’ve been a necessary thorn.”

 

Squidward shrugged and let his tentacles rest in his lap. “Who knows, without you I probably would have taken myself out decades ago. You know, without the constant distraction from your insane antics.” he chuckled softly. “Anyway… what’s interesting is that when I woke up this morning, I didn’t want to die anymore. In fact, the thought of it terrified me. But, Im not sure how much fight I have in me. And you know what the worst part of all of this is?”

 

SpongeBob’s eyes went wide. “W-what’s that, Squidward?” 

 

“It’s the fact that I’ll have to take all this regret to the grave with me, the regret of being so pathetically late to appreciate the one person who was always there for me.”

 

 

Chapter 20

Notes:

Revised on 9/17/2025

(Not revised beyond this point)

SpongeBob never imagined this day would actually come. He only wished that Squidward’s sentiments weren’t tainted by so much despair. After years of trying to win Squidward’s friendship, it now felt like it was all coming to a bitter end.

 

SpongeBob stood up frantically. “What are you saying, Squidward? This doesn’t have to be the end!”

 

“I’m sorry, SpongeBob. I don’t want to let you down but-“ Squidward began.

 

SpongeBob’s stomped his foot, his eyes brimming with tears. “But what?! You don’t have the fight? That’s a load of barnacles!” he said, fists clenched at his sides. “You can’t give up now! Not after we just…”

 

Squidward recoiled at the force of SpongeBob’s voice. “Sponge… just try to calm down.”

 

“I’m sorry… I just can’t stand watching you do this to yourself. It’s tearing me apart, Squidward!”

 

Something inside Squidward broke as he watched SpongeBob. This was all supposed to be about him, he didn’t want to drag anyone else down. It was a line he never intended to cross.

 

SpongeBob’s shoulders slumped, his arms now swinging uselessly. “There’s help, you know,” he whispered. 

 

“I know there is, but I can’t go to one of those… facilities. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that.”

 

SpongeBob moved closer to Squidward who was still sitting on the ground, his knees tucked to his chest. “Do you want to be caught dead somewhere else? Did you ever think about the fact that it would be me who would find you?”

 

Squidward could only scoff. “Oh please, you don’t know that.”

 

A look of irritation crossed SpongeBob’s face, but then it softened. “Oh c’mon… Squidward. Who else?”

 

Squidward fell silent. He knew SpongeBob was right. He was living on borrowed time, and the most likely scenario would be that he would drop dead, or fall asleep one night and never wake up. And the only person who ever cared enough to check on him was SpongeBob. He could already see the look on that bright face as he realized it was too late, that he was lost to him forever.

 

SpongeBob’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. “Squidward, why won’t you go?”

 

Squidward crossed his tentacles. “First of all, it would be humiliating. I’d be surrounded by teenage girls!”

 

“Not only girls have eating disorders! It’s true, Sandy told me all about it,” SpongeBob protested.

 

Squidward sighed, lowering his tentacles. “SpongeBob. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t afford it.”

 

SpongeBob just shrugged it off with a grin. “Well that’s no problem, I’ll help you pay for it!”

 

“You do realize we work at the Krusty Krab, right?”

 

“So?”

 

“So… it would cost more than we make in one year, for me to stay there for even one week. For Neptune’s sake, be realistic, SpongeBob!”

 

SpongeBob’s smile began to fade. Sandy never mentioned anything about the cost. But he didn’t let his discouragement last for long, he refused to give up, no matter what it took.

 

“Don’t worry, Squidward. I’ll find the money.”

 

“But how? I couldn’t ask that of-“

 

SpongeBob leaned over and quickly pressed a finger to Squidward’s lips before he could finish. He smiled again, this time with confidence. “It’s no problem, Squidward. You can count on me!”

Chapter 21

It didn’t take very long for Squidward to realize that protesting SpongeBob’s generous, yet impractical offer would be useless. They bickered back and forth for a few minutes before Squidward gave in.

 

Squidward threw up his tentacles. “Alright, SpongeBob. You win! If you can somehow magically get your hands on such an obscene amount of money, I’ll go.”

 

Regardless of the obvious skepticism from Squidward, SpongeBob was nothing short of giddy that he was able to convince him to accept his offer. But now he would have to face the challenge of ensuring that he stayed alive until he was able to bring his plan to fruition. After an enthusiastic and heartfelt thank you from the sponge, they began their walk home through the darkened hills of Jellyfish Fields.

 

Squidward started to ruminate on what his life might look like behind the walls of an eating disorder treatment facility. Images of feeding tubes dangling from gaunt faces were the first to come to mind, followed by thoughts of young women sobbing uncontrollably as they are confronted by food which they don’t know the calorie content of. All of these images were borrowed from various films he had seen over the years. 

 

“Squidward?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What does it feel like?”

 

Squidward raised an eyebrow at the question. “What does what feel like exactly? Starving myself?”

 

“Well, yeah sorta, I guess. I just want to understand what you’re going through.”

 

Squidward shrugged casually. “I don’t think it’s something you could understand unless you’ve gone through it.”

 

“Do you know anyone else who has?”

 

Squidward paused for a moment, a little taken aback by the question. “Well.. there is one person.”

 

“Did they ever get better?”

 

“Yes,” he answered sharply.

 

The tone of Squidward’s voice left SpongeBob feeling confused, but he was still pleased by the answer. “See? Then there is hope! Maybe you should talk to them, maybe they could-“

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?” SpongeBob asked, shrinking with disappointment.

 

“It’s complicated. We haven’t been on good terms since high school.”

 

SpongeBob rolled his eyes playfully at this.“But that’s all in the past! High school, it’s like ancient history. Can’t you two-“

 

“No, we can’t. The damage has been done. Just forget it about, please,” he interrupted, sounding breathless.

 

SpongeBob looked like he was itching to get one last word in, so Squidward cut him off. “So you want to know what it’s like, huh?”

 

SpongeBob stopped in his tracks, nodding eagerly as he looked up at the cephalopod.

 

Squidward turned to face SpongeBob, despite the very seriousness of the topic  he raised both tentacles in the air whimsically. “I want you to imagine something.”

 

SpongeBob nodded again, closing his eyes tightly, readying himself to be fully immersed in Squidward’s words.

 

“I want you to imagine yourself waking up in the morning. You’re going about your day, the same as always. But then, you catch sight of your reflection in the mirror. The person staring back looks like you, their movements match your own, but something is different. The longer you look, the more your eyes become like magnifying glasses. Everything looks larger, more precise. You wonder how long you’ve been this big, this unsightly. You wonder why nobody said anything. You feel rage and disgust building inside of you as you continue staring, finding fault with even more than just your size. You start to believe that if you just lose weight, everything will fall back into place. That the sickening caricature of yourself will fade away into obscurity. Then, time passes and food becomes the enemy. After you’ve eaten, the sensation of it sitting inside of you becomes something that triggers panic. Like you’ve swallowed something poisonous, or there is some kind of alien creature living inside you. It’s.. not supposed to be there. If it is there, something bad will happen. So you fight nature, you fight everything inside of that is telling you that you need to eat or you will die. Your body isn’t a home anymore, it’s more like a torture chamber, and you yourself are the one inflicting the punishments. But you can’t go back now because you’ve made so much progress, and maybe dying would be better than having to go back to being the person you’ve been trying so desperately to separate yourself from. So, that’s what life becomes, you spend your days at war with reason. You try your best to ignore the dizziness, aching joints, unceasing coldness and the feeling that your heart may give out at any moment. And then, you just keep going.”

 

SpongeBob was frozen in place, and his expression was entirely blank. Squidward had no idea how to discern what he was thinking or feeling.

 

Squidward leaned forward, looking at the him with concern. “Sponge..Bob?”

 

“I…” SpongeBob whispered, his expression still vacant. 

 

Oh Neptune, did I break him?

 

SpongeBob now had a glimpse into what Squidward was going through. And he knew that even though he had been provided a detailed description, he could never fully comprehend what it was truly like. He was in over his head, and how long could a person be sustained off of friendship alone?

 

Squidward scooped the sponge up, placing him under his arm as if he were carrying a cardboard box. “Let’s just go home, SpongeBob. We’ve had enough for one night.”

 

Once they arrived at Conch Street, Squidward placed SpongeBob back on the ground with the utmost care. He felt a bit worried at the sponge’s uncharacteristic silence, so he lingered there for a moment hoping to see some sign of life.

 

SpongeBob exhaled deeply, coming back to reality. “I’m sorry, Squidward. For being so quiet, it’s just.. well I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so sad in my entire life.”

 

Squidward placed a tentacle on his shoulder. “SpongeBob, please don’t ever apologize to me for being too quiet.” he said, smiling teasingly.

 

SpongeBob giggled softly. “Thank you for telling me all that, Squiddy. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

 

“No. It wasn’t. But I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good night, SpongeBob,”he said, turning to cross the empty street.

 

SpongeBob felt his heart sink a little as he left, he dreaded the thought of this being the last time he saw Squidward alive.

 

“Let me know if you need me, okay?!” SpongeBob shouted, his voice echoing across the street.

 

Squidward didn’t turn around, but returned the sponge’s hollering with a simple thumbs up. After the door closed behind Squidward, the sponge began to make his way to his own front door. But just moments before reaching it, Patrick came running up to him with a troubled look on his face.

 

“SpongeBob! Where have you been, man?! I feel like I never see you anymore.”

 

“Oh.. Hi Pat! Why don’t you come in?” he said, grabbing Patrick by the arm.

 

Once they were inside SpongeBob flashed an apologetic smile as he motioned for Patrick to take a seat on the sofa.

 

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly, but followed directions and sat himself down. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so weird?”

 

SpongeBob nervously seated himself next to the starfish. “Look, I’m really sorry for neglecting you lately. But I’ve been helping Squidward with some.. things.”

 

Patrick crossed his arms, tensing up slightly. “Oh Squidward, huh? Seems you two have been real close lately,” he huffed.

 

“Pat.. you don’t understand,” SpongeBob whispered.

 

Patrick sunk into the sofa, he looked like he was on the verge of tears. “No, I think I understand. Squidward is more fun to play with, isn’t he?” he pouted.

 

“No! And we haven’t been playing. Squidward is real sick, okay?”

 

The agitation left Patrick’s face instantly.“He’s sick? Well that’s news to me.”

 

“Really? I mean, you haven’t noticed how he looks?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Okay then.”

 

“So, what’s wrong with him?”

 

SpongeBob scratched his head as he searched for the right words. “Okay, let’s see.. uh. Well basically, he has an eating disorder.”

 

Patrick looked mystified by the expression. “What’s an eating disorder ?”

 

“It’s sorta complicated, Pat. Squidward can’t eat normally. He’s starving himself,” SpongeBob explained, resting a hand on his shoulder.

 

Patrick gasped in horror as he sprang up from the sofa. “What?! Why would anyone do such a thing? Quick, SpongeBob! Grab your funnel!” he cried, preparing himself to bolt out the door in search of Squidward.

 

SpongeBob leapt from the sofa, yanking Patrick back down. The last thing this situation needed was a frantic Patrick showing up at Squidward’s house, funnel in hand.

 

Patrick looked at SpongeBob, his eyes wild. “Why are you trying to stop me?! This is serious, SpongeBob!”

 

“I know, Patrick! That’s why I’m stopping you. We can’t just force Squidward to eat, that’s not how any of this works. Just trust me, okay?”

 

Patrick was rattled, but he started to calm down. “How does it work then? I don’t get it.”

 

“So, you know how certain parts of our body can get sick or hurt sometimes?”

 

Patrick silently nodded.

 

“Well, Squidward’s brain is sick right now. And it’s tricking him into thinking that food is bad.”

 

“That’s terrible! Can we just get him a new brain?”

 

“No, Patrick. If we did that, Squidward wouldn’t be Squidward anymore! He needs a special doctor. But don’t worry, I’m workin’ on it!” exclaimed the sponge with a reassuring smile.

 

Patrick eyes widened dramatically. “Oh! Can I help? Pretty please?” he begged, his hands intertwined.

 

SpongeBob felt hesitant to accept Patrick’s help. Any meddling from Patrick could set Squidward over the edge again. But how could he say no to his best friend? His intentions were pure, after all.

 

“Um.. well, alright. But under one condition!” SpongeBob said, sharply raising a finger in front of the starfish’s face.

 

“One condition!” Patrick mimicked.

 

“Just try to act normal around Squidward. Okay, bud?”

 

“Normal? Shouldn’t be a problem,” he shrugged.

 

After a moment of pondering the meaning of normalcy, Patrick spoke again. “So, what’s the plan?”

 

SpongeBob’s face grew stern. “We need to figure out how to get as much money as possible, as quickly as possible.”

 

“How are we gonna do that?”

 

SpongeBob chuckled nervously. “Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten that far yet. Why don’t you go home and brainstorm some ideas, and then we’ll meet up tomorrow?” he suggested.

 

Patrick hopped off the sofa and rushed out the door. “I’m on it, SpongeBob!” he yelled.

 

SpongeBob leaned back into the sofa, letting his limbs relax. His eyes began to flutter as he reached the very heights of exhaustion. He could feel himself nodding out, and couldn’t be bothered to fight against it. With a heavy sigh he let himself slip into unconsciousness.

Chapter 22

SpongeBob groaned as he awoke to the cutting drone of Gary’s meow, replacing his typical alarm.

 

“Meow! Meow! Meooow!”

 

SpongeBob rubbed his eyes and looked down at the snail. “Gary, what is it?” 

 

Gary slithered up to his empty food bowl, aggressively pointing his eyestalk in its direction. 

 

SpongeBob jumped from the sofa, scrambling to find Gary’s food. “Dear Neptune! I forgot to feed you Gare, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” he said, shaking out the kibble frantically.

 

Gary shot SpongeBob a glare before stating to eat. SpongeBob gently stroked his shell, murmuring apologies.

 

Once confident that Gary was content, he stepped away into the kitchen to gather himself. His thoughts immediately drifted to Squidward. If he hadn’t been so tired last night, he surely would have checked on him. 

 

Should I go over there? Should I call? What if he’s… dead?

 

Stricken by fear at the thought of discovering a lifeless corpse, he decided to call first. Reaching for the phone with unsteady hands, he dialed Squidward’s number.

 

To SpongeBob’s surprise the call was picked up almost immediately.

 

“SpongeBob!” Squidward shouted, his severe tone jolting the sponge even more from his drowsiness.

 

He knew he was in trouble but smiled, relieved that Squidward was alive. “Good morning, Squidward!”

 

“Can you explain to me why I woke up this morning to a garbage bag stuffed full of Krabby Patties on my front porch, with a card reading ‘Get Well Soon’?”

 

Patrick…

 

SpongeBob bit his lip, twirling the telephone cord around his finger. “Heh.. no, I can’t explain that. How odd!” 

 

“I don’t even know where these came from considering the Krusty Krab is closed on Sunday!”

 

“Wow! Well, I guess it’s just another one of life’s many mysteries!”

 

“Whatever! Just do me a favor and get rid of them for me.”

 

“Can do, Squiddy! Be over soon.”

 

The call ended with an abrupt click as Squidward slammed the phone down.

 

In a hurry, SpongeBob pulled himself together and prepared for the day ahead. He felt strangely euphoric, even Patrick’s shenanigans didn’t seem to be successful in putting a damper on his mood. Maybe he was just delighted to know Squidward was still here, and grateful that there was still time.

 

Next door, Squidward found himself locked into a staring contest with a container of yogurt. He had every intention of eating it, as It was a meager ninety calories, within the acceptable range. But he needed to stall, he needed to stay in control for as long as he could, especially considering that it all might be ripped from him in the near future.

 

Abruptly, he rose from his chair. “Just do it, Squidward. Eat it. You’re a grown man!” he cried, slamming his tentacles on the kitchen table.

 

“Some men go to war and get their fins blown off. And here you are, In agony over a little low fat yogurt.”

 

Squidward tried to gain control over his breathing, slowing it as much as he could. With sheer willpower, he carefully peeled back the foil top.

 

Do it.. for SpongeBob?

 

He was aware that he should be doing this for himself, but without any rightly ordered self love to draw from, he needed a different motivator. Begrudgingly he lifted a spoonful to his mouth, allowing himself to take the first bite. It tasted bland, non-threatening at first, but every subsequent bite tasted like failure. It was hardly a significant amount of food, but it felt like it had the power to bring his entire world crashing down. He internally scoffed at the thought, realizing it was quite the opposite. If he didn’t eat, then what little was left of his world would undeniably come to an end.

 

After finishing the yogurt, he flung the empty tub into the trash bin. Out of sight, out of mind, he figured. Instinctively, he began to restlessly pace throughout his kitchen. He had built up the habit of trying to move continuously in an effort to stay in a calorie deficit. As he shuffled around aimlessly he slowly became cognizant of what he was doing.

 

Oh stop it, already! Enough of this madness.. just sit down, Squidward.

 

As he struggled with himself for control, he pondered what control really was. He had spent so much time convincing himself that he was simply achieving mastery of self. The idea of being able to subjugate his own will with ease brought him satisfaction, but now something else was subjugating him.

 

As Squidward continued to speculate, a cheerful sponge was approaching his front door. SpongeBob stopped as he eyed the massive, grease slicked garbage bag. A soft sigh espaced his lips as he tried to take hold of it. It was heavy and slippery, but he managed to haul it back to Patrick’s rock. Without knocking he lifted the rock to find Patrick asleep. He didn’t say a word as tossed the bag, along with the greeting card, into starfish’s dwelling. He would deal with him later.

 

“Well, I should probably go check on Squidward now. I bet he wouldn’t mind some company!” SpongeBob said to himself happily. 

 

Squidward’s pacing was cut short by the sound of the sponge’s knocking. “Come in, SpongeBob!” he called out, still standing in his kitchen.

 

SpongeBob swung the door open, smiling from ear to ear as he greeted his neighbor. “Hello, Squidward!”

 

Although secretly pleased at the his arrival, Squidward’s face remained fixed in its usual frown. “Hi, SpongeBob,” he replied, motioning for him to come in.

 

SpongeBob stepped inside, joining him in the kitchen. “So, whatcha doiiin?” he asked, leaning up against Squidward playfully.

 

“I was just uhh.. eating breakfast,” he said, flushing with embarrassment at the reminder that he was indeed a living creature who required sustenance.

 

SpongeBob was beaming. “Really? You were? That’s great Squidward!”

 

Squidward wasn’t lying, but it felt like it. He began rubbing the back of his neck to ease his slowly growing tension. “Heh, yeah,” he chuckled.

 

“So, what did you have?”

 

Squidward pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does it really matter?” 

 

SpongeBob’s curious eyes traveled to the trash bin, noticing the empty yogurt container. “Is that all you ate?” he asked, sounding a little disheartened.

 

Squidward rolled his eyes as he sharply turned away from the sponge. “Why do you ask so many questions? Can’t you just be happy that I ate something?” he snapped.

 

“I’m sorry Squidward, you’re right! I’m really proud of you, okay? Ya know, for trying..”

 

Squidward returned his gaze to SpongeBob, feeling remorse at his harshness. “No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it, sponge,” he said, offering a gentle pat on the head.

 

With ease, SpongeBob recovered from the tense interaction, returning the affection with a warm hug. Squidward accepted the hug, but it caused him to stumble backwards. 

 

SpongeBob pulled away and looked at Squidward, keeping one hand gripped to him tightly. “Woah! Are you feeling alright?” he asked, trying to steady his friend. 

 

Wanting to avoid causing alarm, Squidward pushed the sponge’s hand away. “Yes! I’m fine. Just still waking up.” 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes!” Squidward answered firmly.

 

SpongeBob and Squidward’s standards for what could be considered  “fine”, were very different. But considering that SpongeBob was faced with the time constraint of his fulfilling his promise, he would have no other choice than to trust in the cephalopod’s questionable self assessment.

 

“Well, I hate to leave you so soon Squiddy. I just wanted to check in real quick and make sure you were alright, but I’ve really gotta go see Patrick. Are you okay to be alone right now?”

 

“Yeah SpongeBob, I’m fine. Go ahead,” he replied, motioning to the door causally.

 

“Okay Squidward, I’ll come by later. See you soon.”

 

SpongeBob hesitated, glancing back once before heading out the door. His footsteps were slow and reluctant as the door closed behind him.

 

Squidward was alone again, and it brought him no comfort. The previous night had been excruciatingly lonely for the cephalopod. Tossing and turning in the darkness, he argued with himself back and forth about whether or not he should wake his neighbor. But he couldn’t be a burden anymore, he knew that the sponge was getting tired, it was clear even behind that bubbly disposition.

 

Trying to shake off the unease, Squidward resumed his mindless pacing. Each step began to feel heavy, and a tingling sensation spread across his skin like wildfire. The room seemed to tilt, making his knees buckle. With the last of his strength he clutched the kitchen counter, hoping to counter the delirium, but it was to no avail. The body that he had betrayed, was finally exacting its revenge. And In the blink of an eye, everything went black.

 

 

 

Chapter 23

SpongeBob softly hummed as he walked towards Patrick’s rock, trying to shake off the image of his pale and sickly neighbor. He gave a couple short knocks before lifting up the rock, Patrick was still sleeping soundly, oblivious to the world around him. He decided to let the starfish sleep a while longer, and with a sigh he retreated to his pineapple.

 

Inside of his home and alone with his thoughts, SpongeBob was growing more attuned to the unsettling feeling that was nagging at him. He sat down in his chair, crossing his legs which were beginning to grow restless. For a moment he cast it off as paranoia, but as a heavy shiver came over him all of his doubt dissipated. Something was wrong.

 

In a flash, SpongeBob was at Squidward’s front door again. He knocked in rapid succession but there was no answer. Fear gripped him as he reached for the door knob. Quickly, he flung open the door and burst inside, finding Squidward lying face down on the kitchen floor. His head was surrounded by a pool of blood, tilted to one side. 

 

SpongeBob scrambled to Squidward’s side, cradling his limp body in his arms. “Squidward!? Squidward! Please, for the love of Neptune, wake up!” 

 

“What do I do?! What do I do?! Patriiick!”

 

Seconds later Patrick came barreling through the door at full speed. As he was met with the sight of SpongeBob holding a bloodied and unconscious Squidward, a look of horror spread across his face. He stood in the doorway, frozen.

 

SpongeBob extended his trembling, blood soaked hand towards the starfish. “Patrick! Hand me the phone, I need to call an ambulance! Now!”

Patrick remained stunned for a moment, but seeing the panic in SpongeBob’s eyes seemed to free him from the state of shock. Trying his hardest to avoid the bloody mess around him, he retrieved the phone from the counter and handed it to SpongeBob.

 

He immediately contacted emergency services. The operator sounded irritated as SpongeBob went into excessive detail about Squidward’s eating disorder, but offered repeated reassurance that help was on the way.

 

Patrick frantically chewed at his hands, he had never seen so much blood. The sound of SpongeBob’s wild rambling was starting to sound muffled, gradually being replaced with a high pitched buzzing in his ears.

 

Soon the paramedics arrived, rushing through the door pulling a stretcher alongside them. One of the paramedics ran up to SpongeBob, pulling Squidward roughly from his arms.

 

SpongeBob desperately reached out towards Squidward. “B-be careful with him!” 

 

With a dull expression, the paramedic looked at him briefly before dragging Squidward away. “Relax, kid. I know what I’m doing.”

 

“He’s losing too much blood, but he’s still breathing. Get him on oxygen, now!” one paramedic shouted to another.

 

As they rolled Squidward out of the Pineapple, SpongeBob and Patrick followed behind. Once he had been elevated into the ambulance, they both hopped in, seating themselves in the corner of the vehicle.

 

Patrick watched the female paramedic who was leaning over Squidward, examining him thoroughly. “Is.. he gonna be okay?” Patrick asked in a low voice.

 

She delicately placed an oxygen mask over the Squidward’s pale face. “I can’t say for certain, but he has a chance. Thank Neptune you found him when you did,” she answered, not meeting Patrick’s gaze.

 

SpongeBob’s blood stained shirt and shorts clung to him as he leaned into Patrick’s shoulder, sobbing loudly. “I shouldn’t have left him! I’m so stupid, Pat!”

 

Patrick didn’t know what to say, but pulled SpongeBob in close to him, offering as much comfort as he could. The rest of the short ride to the hospital was spent in silence.

 

Once they arrived at the hospital, SpongeBob and Patrick watched helplessly as the nurses whisked Squidward away into another room. They both remained in the waiting room and Patrick sat himself in the nearest chair, while SpongeBob paced around muttering to himself like a madman.

 

Noticing his friend’s distress, Patrick stood up. “SpongeBob?” 

SpongeBob didn’t seem to register that Patrick was speaking to him, he was completely lost in his own world. He continued conversing with himself as he chewed at his fingernails.

 

Patrick approached SpongeBob, grabbing his arm firmly. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?” 

 

SpongeBob looked up at Patrick with bloodshot eyes. “I.. don’t know anything anymore,” he confessed.

Patrick eyes softened, and he released the his arm. Smiling faintly, he asked, “Why don’t you come sit down next to me?” 

 

SpongeBob hesitated for a moment, but nodded. “Sure, Pat.”

 

They both sat down next to each other, watching as nurses sped up and down the corridors and in and out of various rooms to attend to their patients. The sounds of distant chatter and ringing phones could be hear, and to SpongeBob it was almost maddening. He wished that the world could stop turning, just for a moment. He observed the receptionist across the room, her feet were propped up on her desk casually as she leaned back in her chair. She laughed obnoxiously at something one of the nurses said, presumably a joke. SpongeBob gritted his teeth, he couldn’t fathom how anyone could be laughing at a time like this, or in a place like this. 

Suddenly, SpongeBob felt Patrick shudder next to him, drawing his attention away from the loathsome receptionist. He glanced over at the starfish, who had his arms crossed and looked like he was shrinking in on himself.

 

SpongeBob leaned in towards Patrick. “Patrick, you okay?” he whispered.

There was a fleeting silence before the starfish responded. “Patrick… SAD!” he sobbed, his composure finally shattering.

 

Patrick’s overwhelming sadness proved to be contagious, and SpongeBob broke. He wrapped his arms tightly around the starfish as they cried in unison. The scene they were causing didn’t attract much attention. The hospital staff continued about their business, aside from one person who couldn’t seem to take her eyes off them.

The receptionist that moments ago had been the object of SpongeBob’s scorn, timidly approached the pair. Neither noticed her presence until she cleared her throat.

 

SpongeBob looked at her with his eyes harshly narrowed. “What do you wa-“ he began, before being silenced by Patrick’s hand over his mouth.

 

“Sorry ma’m, we’ll try to be more quiet,” Patrick said.

 

“Oh, there’s really no need to apologize,” she replied, seating herself in an empty chair across from them before continuing, “I was just going to ask if you boys needed anything. I couldn’t help but notice how.. upset you both seem,” she said, folding her fins gently in her lap.

 

“We need Squidward. Can you go get him?” Patrick asked eagerly.

 

A pained look spread across the receptionist face that she failed to fully conceal. “Oh, Mr. Tentacles? You know, I think he’s still with the doctors right now. But I‘ll see if I can get any information on his condition.”

The pair nodded silently, their eyes still rimmed with tears. As she stood to leave she offered a reassuring nod. Her eyes met with SpongeBob’s and she lingered, looking as if she had something else to say. He looked for some sign of hope in her eyes, but only saw a mirroring of his own dread. She returned to her desk, the tapping of her high heels on the linoleum echoed through the lobby, mimicking the sound of a ticking clock. SpongeBob’s breath caught in his throat, and he clutched his chest. Patrick eyed him, wishing he could find some words of consolation. The starfish took a deep breath and placed his arm around SpongeBob’s shoulder. In bitter silence, they waited.

 

 

 

Chapter 24

Notes:

I apologize that this chapter is on the shorter side. I’ve again run into a bit of writer’s block, but I can feel some inspiration coming back to me little by little.

Squidward was coming to, but an impenetrable fog clung to him, preventing him from being able to form any coherent thoughts. Muffled voices filled his ears, and shadowy figures danced in the corners of his vision as he fought against the lingering anesthesia. 

 

Where am I? Am I.. dead?

 

Gradually, reality began to take shape. The fog was lifting, and with it, a hollow feeling washed over him. His vision was still blurred, but he was able to gain some semblance of the world around him. He noticed a nurse standing in the corner of the room, adjusting her glasses as she examined the clipboard in her hands. 

 

The sound of Squidward stirring in his hospital bed caught the nurses attention, she promptly came to his side. “Mr. Tentacles. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” her tone was professional, yet not lacking warmth.

 

Still in a dream-like state, Squidward squinted at her. The harsh clinical lights beaming down on him made it difficult to process what she was saying. “What’s going on?” he muttered. Why am I here?”

 

Noticing the cephalopod’s discomfort, she quickly dimmed the lights. “Is that better?” she asked, her voice becoming softer.

 

Squidward sighed, nodding slowly in response. 

 

“You had a fall, Mr. Tentacles. A pretty nasty one, we had to do emergency surgery. Your friend found you just in time.”

 

Squidward lifted a tentacle to his head, feeling the bandage tightly wrapped around it. “My friend?” he whispered.

 

Oh right.. SpongeBob.

 

Of course, SpongeBob would find him. He wasn’t sure if he should be grateful, or annoyed. This whole being alive thing, really didn’t seem to be working out for him. Maybe it was time to let go. 

 

Squidward paused for a few moments, before growing tense. “When can I leave?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the door behind her.

 

The nurse looked slightly taken aback by his urgency, but she remained composed. “Not quite yet. We have to continue monitoring you and make sure you’re stable. The doctor will be in shortly to discuss everything with you.”

 

Suddenly Squidward slammed a tentacle down on the bed. “I don’t care about anything of that!” he snapped. “Just let me leave.. please,” he continued, his voice becoming weak.

 

Squidward continued to protest, becoming visibly agitated at the perceived imprisonment. The nurse delicately offered reassurance that the doctor would be in to speak with him as soon as possible. In addition, she offered something to help calm his nerves.

 

Squidward turned up his nose at her, crossing his arms in suspicion.“You just want me to drug me up, make me compliant? Why? To line your pockets?”

 

He knew his accusations were absurd, in  reality she wasn’t making a penny off of him. But he just couldn’t help himself, he needed to take it out on someone.

 

The nurses expression hardened. “Mr. Tentacles. You are not leaving until you are stable, whether you like it or not.” She leaned in closer to Squidward, looking him in the eyes sternly. “So, you can either accept the medication and be more comfortable during your stay, or you can refuse and maintain your current level of misery.”

 

Squidward glared back at her with a look that was equally, if not more severe. “Fine,” he replied, before breaking eye contact. She had a point, there was no need for anymore needless suffering.

 

The nurse nodded in return and swiftly pulled out a syringe. Squidward watched with heavy lidded eyes as she carefully injected the medication into his IV. The effect was immediate, and it hit him with the force of a freight train. But instead of pain, It was bliss. In that moment he could have sworn his body and the bed beneath him were becoming one. He let himself sink deeper into the mattress, reveling in the comforting haze.

 

Maybe being here isn’t so bad.

 

“How are you feeling now, Mr. Tentacles?” the nurse asked, her voice softly echoing like a distant phantom.

 

With a pitifully slack expression he slowly turned his head to look at her. “Can this… last forever?” he asked in a whisper, sounding almost breathless.

 

After discarding the syringe, she turned back to him with a knowing smile.“Nothing lasts forever, I’m afraid.”

Chapter 25

SpongeBob’s eyes snapped open, his body jerking him awake. He hadn’t intended to let himself drift off. He glanced over at Patrick who was to his surprise, still awake, staring off into the distance.

 

SpongeBob smiled faintly at the comforting sight of his friend. “Hey, Pat. How long was I asleep?” he asked, stretching his arms above his head.

 

Patrick looked at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. Squinting his eyes, he answered, “Uh, I dunno. Probably like eight hours.”

 

SpongeBob’s eyes widened in shock.“Eight hours?”

 

Patrick shrugged casually. “Yep.”

 

“Heh, no wonder my back is killing me,” SpongeBob chuckled, continuing to stretch out in his chair. Suddenly, his body went rigid as he asked, “Wait, have you been awake this whole time? Did that nurse come back?!”

 

Patrick let out a prolonged yawn as he leaned back into his chair. “Yep, she came back.” he said, propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of them.

 

SpongeBob jumped up from his chair to face Patrick. “Well for Neptune’s sake, what did she say, Pat?!”

 

Despite the obvious fatigue etched into his face, Patrick smiled warmly at the sponge before saying, “Squidward is okay now, he’s waking up from surgery.”

 

SpongeBob felt his fists clench involuntarily at his sides, he wanted to cry. Why wasn’t he happy? Why did he feel so suddenly aggravated by Patrick’s presence? He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth harshly. 

 

Patrick paused before standing up and pulling SpongeBob into a suffocating hug. “Please take it easy, SpongeBob! It was just a few minutes ago. I just wanted to let you sleep a little longer. Please don’t be mad at me!”

 

Patrick’s sincerity penetrated him, and his fists unclenched. SpongeBob took a breath, letting it out slowly.

 

SpongeBob pulled away, and looked up at his friend. “I’m sorry Patrick, I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed. My brain feels like it’s blown a fuse or something.”

 

Patrick began patting SpongeBob’s head affectionately. “It’s okay, buddy. Happens to mine all the time.”

 

SpongeBob flashed a quick smile, but his attention shifted as he could hear the sound of footsteps approaching them from behind. “Mr. SquarePants? Mr. Star? It looks like Mr. Tentacles is ready for visitors. Would you like to see him now?” An unfamiliar nurse asked the pair.

 

SpongeBob answered with an enthusiastic “Yes!” and without hesitation, began to follow behind the nurse.

 

Before SpongeBob could take more than a few steps, he felt himself being pulled backward. Turning around he saw Patrick gripping his arm, looking somewhat coy.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know if I should go in there.” Patrick said, cautiously taking a step back.

 

SpongeBob giggled, and waved dismissively at the starfish. “That’s silly, Pat! Of course you should.”

 

Patrick shook his head rapidly. “No.. really. I think you guys should talk alone. Just trust me, okay?”

 

Patrick wasn’t usually so prudent, but the gravity of the situation seemed to bring about a certain clarity to him, even as exhaustion was eating away at him by the second.

 

SpongeBob frowned, lowering his gaze. “Well, okay..”

 

“Plus, do you really think Squidward wants to wake up from surgery up from and see me? He hates me.”

 

“He doesn’t hate you, Patrick. But okay, I understand. Go home and get some sleep, buddy.”

 

Patrick felt relieved knowing he could go home to his rock and fall into a deep, blissful sleep. This was all too complex, too intense for his simple nature, but at the same time he felt a subtle guilt at the thought of leaving his friend’s side. Nonetheless he nodded and offered SpongeBob another hug, gentler this time.

 

“Thank you for sticking it out with me for so long.”

 

“Anytime, SpongeBob.” Patrick said gently as he took his leave.

 

The nurse urged SpongeBob along, her patience was apparently wearing thin, he eagerly continued to follow her. As she led him through the hospital, his happiness began to be replaced by an uncomfortable anticipation. He only hoped that his presence would be welcomed by Squidward. 

 

There they were, standing in front of Squidward’s room. SpongeBob felt his heart throb and for a moment wondered if he might be the one in need of a doctor. He tried his best to shake it off the notion, and walked inside.

 

“Mr. Tentacles, you have a visitor,” the nurse announced before discreetly retreating to the hallway.

 

As SpongeBob entered the dimly lit room, the first thing he noticed was the heavy and bloodied bandage covering Squidward’s head.

 

 

Squidward turned his head, looking at SpongeBob with glazed eyes as his lips curled into a groggy smile. He was pleased to see a smile, but he knew that Squidward wasn’t himself right now. 

 

Squidward blinked slowly, looking as though he was trying to discern reality from a dream. “SpongeBob?” he asked, softly.

SpongeBob advanced towards the hospital bed and gently rested his hand on Squidward’s tentacle. “Hi, Squiddy. I’m here.” 

Squidward’s eyes settled on SpongeBob’s hand for a moment before traveling up to meet his gaze. “You know, I’m actually happy you’re here. This place is so.. dull. It could use some sunshine.”

 

The sentiment in his voice caused SpongeBob’s lip to quiver. But fearful of crying, he said nothing in return.

 

“Let me to take a wild guess. It was you who found me, wasn’t it?” Squidward asked, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness.

 

SpongeBob nodded. “Y-yes. Patrick was there too.” 

 

Squidward’s smile faded, and he turned away ever so slightly, his eyes wandering elsewhere, “I’m sorry you both had to see that.”

 

SpongeBob looked away, awkwardly toying with his tie. “Don’t say that..” he whispered. 

 

Squidward looked at him strangely. “And why not?”

 

“Well, it would have been worse to not find you at all. Or to find you.. dead.” 

 

Squidward paused, he cleared his throat before speaking again. “Oh, r-right.. uh well I just mean that I’m sorry to be a burden. I didn’t intend for Patrick to get wrapped up in all of this too. Where is he anyways?”

 

“He left when the nurse came to get us, he said it would be better if you and I talked alone.”

 

“Maybe he’s smarter than I gave him credit for.” Squidward muttered to himself.

 

“Huh?” SpongeBob asked, leaning in closer.

 

A tight lipped smile stretched across Squidward’s face. “Nothing, SpongeBob. Don’t worry about it.”

 

SpongeBob pulled back, locking eyes with his friend. “Squidward. You know you’re not a burden, right?”

 

Squidward looked at him as if he were being asking some kind of trick question. “No..?”

 

“Well you’re not, that’s not how I see it at all.”

 

Squidward raised an eyebrow at this.“How do you see it then, SpongeBob? Illuminate me.”

 

SpongeBob casually shrugged. “You’re sick.. it’s not your fault.”

 

Squidward immediately rolled his eyes. “It is my fault,” he asserted.

 

“No, it’s not,” SpongeBob calmly answered. 

 

Squidward shot up in his hospital bed, his eyes narrowing at the sponge. “Then whose fault is it? I’m the one who’s slowly killing my self!” he cried, accusingly pointing a tentacle at himself. 

 

SpongeBob shrunk down, his voice becoming even softer. “It’s nobody’s fault. It just is.. what it is.” 

 

Squidward laid back down, seeming to slip back into his sedation. “You really aren’t making much sense.”

 

“Just listen to me, Squidward! It doesn’t really matter whose fault it is. But you’re not a burden. I want to be here for you! I wouldn’t trade it for all the Krabby Patties in the world, or for an eternity of uninterrupted jellyfishing. My life.. it’s not about me, ya know?”

Squidward’s eyes widened, he looked back at him in disbelief. “Your life.. isn’t about you? But it’s your life.”

 

Squidward couldn’t ignore the warmth that was welling up inside of him. But the rational, calculating part of him fought desperately to resist this sentimental nonsense. It was probably the drugs, anyway.

 

SpongeBob smiled sweetly at him. “Yep!” 

 

Squidward chuckled softly, his harshness waning. “You’re a fool.. but kind.”

 

“Well you’re smart, but kind of a jerk. It’s okay though Squiddy, I still love you!” he said, nudging him gently.

 

The tenderness was cut short by an awkward silence, with both men unsure where to go from here. SpongeBob sighed wistfully, his eyes scanning the room. It really was dull in here, he thought to himself. Squidward’s eyes were fixed on the blank television screen across the room. He found himself succumbing to his daydreams, thoughts of how his life may have turned out if his dreams had come to fruition. He pictured himself on that screen, women fawning over him, men idolizing him. Briefly, he allowed these fantasies to delight him, but then he began to wonder if it would really, truly, satisfy him. Regardless of any alternate path his life could have taken, it all led to the same place. A cold, dark hospital room and then, the end.

 

Oh great, just what I need. More existential dread.

 

SpongeBob broke the silence, thrusting Squidward back into reality. “Squidward, what’s going to happen now?”

 

“I don’t know, I’m waiting for the doctor to come in.”

 

“Do they know what you’ve been doing to yourself?”

 

Squidward looked at him and sighed.  “Well.. I haven’t exactly told them. But I’m sure they will figure it out when they see my blood work.”

 

SpongeBob’s eyes were full of hope, but there was a hint of worry behind them.“If they offer you treatment, will you accept it?”

 

“I already told you, SpongeBob. I can’t afford it.”

 

SpongeBob looked at him with an intense sternness that felt unsuited to his face.“And I already told you, I’m going to take care of that.”

 

“What’s your plan then, SpongeBob?”

SpongeBob’s face fell into a slight frown. “My.. plan?”

 

“Yes, your plan?”

 

“Oh yes! My plan. Well..”

 

“You don’t have a plan, do you?”

 

“No, no. I do! I’m going to uh.. beg!”.

 

“Oh brilliant, because we all know how Bikini Bottom is know for it’s charity.”

 

“Just believe in me, Squidward! I won’t let you down. Remember when I returned Neptune’s crown, just in the nick of time?”

 

Squidward knew he made a fair point. But now they were dealing with relying on the generosity of fishkind, and not just fishkind but specifically the citizens of Bikini Bottom.

 

“This is different, SpongeBob.” Squidward murmured, rubbing his temples vigorously.

 

Before SpongeBob could offer his rebuttal a soft knock interrupted them, they both turned their heads to the door in unison. The doctor made his way inside the room without waiting for an answer. He was a tall, older fish. He had sharp features, akin to a barracuda. There was little about him that was pleasing to the eyes. He advanced to Squidward’s side, his face remaining neutral.

 

“Mr. Tentacles. My name is Dr. Schuppenburg. How are you feeling?”

 

SpongeBob leaned toward Squidward, whispering in his ear. “Do you want me to leave?”

 

“It’s fine, SpongeBob. You can stay.”

 

You already know all my baggage anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26

“Mr. Tentacles, as you know, you’ve  suffered a serious fall. Fortunately, we were able to successfully treat your injuries, but I’m still concerned. You’ll have to excuse my frankness, but your weight is dangerously low, and your blood work is.. well, abysmal.”

 

Squidward sighed, he knew what was coming. “I figured as much,” he said, avoiding eye contact with the doctor.

 

Dr. Schuppenburg looked up from his clipboard. “So, you’re aware of this?”

 

Squidward looked at him blankly. “I do have eyes, and a brain, sir.”

 

“Very well. May I ask you a few questions about your eating habits?”

 

Squidward shrugged. “Go ahead.”

 

Dr. Schuppenburg rattled off question after question to Squidward, who found it all tiresome, but went along obediently.  SpongeBob remained quiet, listening curiously.

 

“Do you ever feel the need to skip meals or eat very little?”

 

“Yes. Constantly.”

 

“Do you ever experience episodes of binge eating, consuming larger quantities of food in a short span of time?”

 

“Occasionally.”

 

“Do you weigh and or measure yourself frequently?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How would you describe your relationship with food?”

 

Squidward paused before giving an answer. “Estranged.”

 

The barrage of questions felt never ending, and he was becoming restless. He watched with irritation as Dr. Schuppenburg continued to scribble notes on his clipboard. “Mr. Tentacles, it’s becoming clear to me that you are suffering from a condition called Anorexia Nervosa,” he said, looking up from his clipboard sternly. 

 

You think?

 

“Given the seriousness of your situation, I would like to refer you to an inpatient program that we have here in Bikini Bottom. We call it Tides of Healing Treatment Center.”

 

Squidward scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Of course it is.”

 

Dr. Schuppenburg sighed, unamused by Squidward’s snark. “I urge you to allow me to refer you. Your heart could fail at any moment, Mr. Tentacles. You are suffering from a serious illness, it has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric condition.” 

 

Squidward flailed his tentacles angrily. “Yes, yes! I know all of this already,” he snapped. 

 

“Then would you like me to make the referral?”

 

“I.. can’t afford it right now, don’t bother.”

 

Dr. Schuppenburg flipped through the papers on his clipboard, eyeing them carefully. “Oh..” he said in a low voice. 

 

Suddenly, SpongeBob interjected. “I’m going to help him!” 

 

Dr. Schuppenburg threw him a skeptical glance. “You’ll be footing the bill then Mr…?” he trailed off.

 

“SquarePants!”

 

“Mr. SquarePants, we will need your payment information as well as-“

 

“Well.. I don’t have the funds yet, but I will soon. You can count on it!”

 

Dr. Schuppenburg subtly looked SpongeBob up and down. “Right.. well then. When you have everything in order you may give us a call. But in the meantime, Mr. Tentacles will have remain here for several days under observation.”

 

Squidward raised a tentacle in protest. “But wait! I -“

 

Dr. Schuppenburg quickly silenced him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Tentacles. Your insurance will cover you for the next five days,” he said calmly, lowering Squidward’s tentacle back onto the bed.

 

“While you’re here, we will try to improve your condition as much as possible. This hospital doesn’t specialize in eating disorders, but we will do everything we can.”

 

“I’m not worried about my insurance! I just don’t want to be here for five days. Can’t I just go home?”

 

“I can’t force you to stay here, but I would strongly advise against you leaving.” Dr. Schuppenburg warned.

SpongeBob looked at Squidward desperately and came crashing to his knees next to the hospital bed. “Squidward, please stay! I’m begging you! Think about it, you won’t have to go to work for five whole days! And after work, every night, I’ll come here to see you, I’ll even stay the night. I’ll go home and feed Gary and then I’ll be right here by your side! Gary might be sad for a little while but I’m sure he’ll understand. It’ll be like a sleepover! It could be fun, right ? Please Squidward, for the love of Neptune I’m-“

 

Squidward leaned over the side of the bed, looking furious. “Okay, I get it SpongeBob!!” he shouted. 

 

SpongeBob paid no mind to his anger, instead, he batted his eyelashes like a schoolgirl. “So, will you stay?” 

Squidward took a deep breath. “First of all, please stop that. Second of all, you seemed to have forgotten something.”

SpongeBob expression quickly shifted to one of worry. “What’s that?”

 

“How are you going to have any time to execute your brilliant panhandling scheme, while you’re stuck here with me?”

 

“Oh that’s a good question, Squidward. Let me think!” SpongeBob said as he began to pace around the room.

 

Dr. Schuppenburg’s eyes shifted to SpongeBob, and then back to Squidward. “Mr. Tentacles, I’m going to give you two some time to talk. I’ll come check on you later.”

 

Squidward offered the doctor a quick nod and nothing more.

 

SpongeBob stopped suddenly in his tracks, a smile crept slowly onto his face. “I’m going to quit my job!” he cheerfully exclaimed.

 

Squidward shot up from the bed, his face painted with disbelief. “Have you completely lost your mind, SpongeBob? That’s a terrible idea!”

 

“Didn’t I tell you that I would uproot my entire life for the sake of a friend’s happiness? This is kind of like that, right?”

 

“You’re completely insane! I won’t allow it! In fact, I think you’re the one who needs psychiatric treatment!”

 

“Oh c’mon Squidward! What do you care? Mr. Krabs will probably hire me back anyways.”

 

“You really think I don’t care? I do care, you barnacle head! You drive me insane sometimes, do you know that?”

 

Squidward began to repeatedly slam down on the call button to alert the nurse, his face turning red from frustration in the process.

 

SpongeBob looked at Squidward with concern before asking. “Squidward.. what are you doing?”

 

After a brief silence the nurse answered. “How can I help you, Mr. Tentacles?”

 

“I need more medication!” Squidward shrieked through the intercom, causing SpongeBob to wince. 

 

In a matter of seconds, a nurse came rushing through the door. She wordlessly administered the medication to Squidward and left quickly. Almost immediately, Squidward was at ease again and fell silent.

 

 

SpongeBob took the opportunity to inch closer to Squidward’s bedside. “Hey, Squidward.”

 

Squidward looked up at him with glossy eyes. “Hi.. SpongeBob.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I think so.. but I just want this to be over. I don’t think you understand how tired I am. SpongeBob.”

 

“Maybe you should just take a nap Squiddy, get some rest. I’ll come see you again tonight, okay?”

 

“O-okay..” said Squidward, his voice trembling slightly.

 

The despondency in Squidward’s voice nearly broke him. SpongeBob had been holding back his tears the whole time. At this point, his throat felt like it was on fire, he had to leave. 

SpongeBob tried to hide his face. “I-I gotta go,” he said, hurrying out of the room.

 

He briskly walked down the hallway, trying to get as far as possible. Finally he stopped, there was no one around. SpongeBob leaned up against the wall before letting himself slowly slide down to the ground. He buried his face in his knees and wept.

 

Squidward remained in his bed, his heavy, fluttering eyes glued to the door.

 

I don’t want to be alone.

Chapter 27

Summary:

I apologize in advance to the Mr. Krabs fans 😅

SpongeBob was nearing Conch Street when he heard a furious voice echoing  from afar. After being in flight or fight mode for the past twenty four hours, he found himself yearning for solitude, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards today. As he got closer the voice grew louder, and more distinct.

 

“SpongeBob! Squiiidwaard!” Mr. Krabs howled, pounding his claws on SpongeBob’s front door.

 

SpongeBob felt his knees go weak, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his boss seething so intensely. With hesitation, he crept up behind Mr. Krabs, who was still unaware of his presence. He cleared his throat loudly, tapping Mr. Krabs on the shoulder. The crustacean spun around, his enraged expression causing SpongeBob’s blood to run cold.

 

Mr. Krabs grabbed SpongeBob roughly by the shoulders, lifting him up to eye level. “What in Davey Jone’s Locker?! Where have you been, boy? And where’s that good for nothin’ octopus?! I should make you two walk the plank!” he shouted, shaking his employee like a rag doll.

 

SpongeBob tried desperately to wiggle free, but it was no use. “Mr. Krabs! Mr. Krabs! Please put me down! I can explain!” 

 

Mr. Krabs continued his angry tirade, ignoring SpongeBob’s pleading.  “What do you have to say for yourself?! Do you know how much money I’ve lost? You’ll both be workin’ overtime, for a LONG time!”

 

“Mr. Krabs, please! Squidward is in the hospital, he had an accident!”

 

Mr. Krabs released the sponge, letting him plop to the ground. His expression softened slightly, but he raised an eyebrow. “The hospital, eh? You better not be makin’ this up, boy.”

 

“I’m telling the truth, sir! Haven’t you seen Squidward lately? It can’t be that much of surprise.”

 

“Well, what’s wrong with him anyway?”

 

“He has.. uhh.. Anorexia, sir.”

 

“Ano- what now?!”

 

“It’s an eating disorder, he’s not eating enough. It’s killing him.”

 

“Oh, what a baby! I don’t have time for all of this melodrama. It’s killin’ him, huh? Well it’s killin’ me bank account too!”

 

SpongeBob’s jaw dropped, nearly hitting the floor. It was as if a switch had been flipped in his mind, unleashing years of pent up hurt and resentment. “What.. did you just say?” he asked slowly.

 

“I can’t stand stand this generation! Back in my day, we used to die like men. Now men die by their own hands, and for what? Vanity? Pathetic!” he spat as he turned to scuttle away.

 

Before Mr. Krabs could leave, he felt SpongeBob’s hand grip his shoulder, spinning him back around with a shocking amount of strength.

 

SpongeBob stared at the crustacean for a moment, his eyes growing large. “You know what, Mr. Krabs?” he said, his voice unsettlingly calm.

 

Mr. Krabs opened his mouth to speak but SpongeBob cut him off. “I.. quit!” he screamed, his voice so booming that it caused the ground to shake beneath them, sending his former boss tumbling backwards.

 

With a look of disbelief, Mr. Krabs struggled to his feet. He brushed off the sand from his clothes. “You’re going to regret this, SpongeBob. You’re a disgrace to the Krusty Krab!”

 

Not wanting to hear another word, SpongeBob slammed the door in his face. Although thoroughly shaken, he let out a sigh of relief, and headed straight for his couch. He could hear Mr. Krab’s muffled voice outside, continuing to hurl insults and threats alike. SpongeBob knew he would get tired and give up eventually, so he turned on the TV to drown out the noise. Absentmindedly he flipped through channel after channel, before seeing  something that captured his attention. A familiar face, someone he hadn’t thought about in years. He drew closer to the glowing screen, nearly touching his face to it as he listened.

 

“And that’s why, as the richest person in Bikini Bottom, I, Squilliam Fancyson, will be hosting this year’s charity gala to benefit underprivileged sea creatures.”

 

“Squilliam Fancyson…” he whispered, as if repeating some sacred mantra. At last, inspiration had arrived.

 

Just then, Gary slithered into the room breaking SpongeBob from his trance. The snail looked at him curiously. SpongeBob spun around, a giddy grin on full display. “Hi, Garebear!”

 

“Meow,” the snail droned.

 

“Yes, Gary. I know that Squilliam and Squidward have been rivals since high school.”

 

“Meow. Meow?”

 

“And yes, I am well aware that they can’t stand each other.”

 

“Meow…”

 

SpongeBob crossed his arms disapprovingly. “Well frankly, I don’t like your attitude, Gary. Have you forgotten about my unmatched skills of persuasion?”

 

Gary knew that once SpongeBob was stuck on an idea, there was no changing his mind. But who knows? This could be interesting, the snail mused to himself. 

 

As Gary left the room, SpongeBob felt a burst of energy surge through him. The tension from his explosive altercation with Mr. Krabs, along with his earlier longing for solitude faded away like a distant memory. He leapt up, racing to find his phone book, Squilliam’s number had to be in there somewhere.

 

SpongeBob bolted to the closet, quickly spotting the large dust covered book. He dragged it to his kitchen table, letting it flop onto the surface with a heavy thud.

 

As he ran his finger down the glossy page he stopped as he spotted Squilliam’s name. “Ah, that’s it!” 

 

SpongeBob was acting on impulse, and gave little thought to what he was planning on saying to Squilliam. He bit his lip as he listened to the ringing, waiting anxiously to see if anyone would pick up the phone.

 

“Hello, this is Squilliam Fancyson. How may I be of service? Or do you simply wish to waste my time?”

 

SpongeBob froze, his nerves getting the better of him. All Squilliam could hear on the other end was heavy breathing.

 

Squilliam rolled his eyes and let out a rough sigh. “Well?! I don’t have all day.”

 

“H-hello! This is SpongeBob SquarePants, please don’t hang up.”

 

“SpongeBob? Oh, yes. I remember you. The deranged little waiter. How charming,” he said with an air of amusement.

 

SpongeBob scratched his head as he recalled their first interaction. “Uh.. yeah. I guess that’s one way to put it.”

 

“So, what is it that you want?” Squilliam asked abruptly.

 

“Well, I’m calling about Squidward. He’s -“

 

“Oh! Let me guess. Once again, he’s failed at everything that I have so clearly excelled in?”

 

SpongeBob tried to mask his annoyance. “Yeah.. but that’s not exactly the problem.”

 

“That’s interesting. In all honesty, I can’t imagine anything more problematic,” 

 

“Squilliam, he’s dying.”

 

SpongeBob was met with a prolonged paused. “Hello?” he asked, wondering if Squilliam was still there.

 

Squilliam’s throat tightened, causing his voice to waver slightly. “I-I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

 

SpongeBob knew he needed to appeal to Squilliam’s ego if he was to have any chance at saving Squidward. “You know, I guess it’s technically not your problem, Squilliam. But I figured since you have been doing so much amazing work  helping underprivileged sea creatures, you might take some pity on poor old Squidward.”

 

Squilliam scoffed at the suggestion. “Squidward isn’t underprivileged, he was born with the same means to success as anyone else. His failure has been entirely his own fault. But.. I will say that I’m very curious. What’s wrong with him?”

 

“He has an eating disorder, he’s in the hospital. Please.. just help him. I’m begging you. I don’t know who else to turn to.”

 

There was another prolonged pause before Squilliam answered. “Look, SpongeBob.. I refuse to make any promises, but I do have a soft spot for pathetic groveling. Come to my house tomorrow at noon, we will discuss this further.”

 

“Oh thank you Squilliam! Thank you! You don’t know how mu-“

 

“Don’t thank me yet, SpongeBob. You had better be prepared to convince me why I ought to waste my valuable time on Squidward, of all people.”

 

“Oh I will be, Squilliam! Don’t you worry!”

 

“Goodbye, SpongeBob.”

 

Buzzing with excitement SpongeBob hung up the phone. He turned to Gary who had been not so subtly eavesdropping the whole time.

 

“I told you so, Gary,” he said with a wink.

Chapter 28

Summary:

Here’s a longer chapter for you guys, I hope you enjoy! And just a heads up, the flashbacks will be in italics.

Now faced with the grandeur of Squilliam’s towering home, SpongeBob felt smaller than ever. The structure rose to the sky like a spire, bringing to mind images of ancient basilicas, not something commonly found in the underwater world. He wondered if the sole purpose of its construction was to make those who passed by feel inferior. Knowing Squilliam and his reputation, this was undeniably the case.

 

In a dramatic fashion, the doors swung open, revealing Squilliam standing in the doorway with a hand perched on his hip.“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he asked, beaming with pride.

 

“Sure is..” SpongeBob said quietly, as he followed him through the massive doorway.

 

Squilliam led SpongeBob down the ornately decorated grand hall. The walls were adorned with baroque-esque paintings and gilded mirrors which magnified the sheer opulence of the space. Squilliam finally stopped at a lavish sitting room and ushered him inside.

 

Squilliam gestured for SpongeBob to sit down and offered him a cup of tea, which he happily accepted. His eyes wandered around the room, he couldn’t help but feel out of his element, and Squilliam’s judgmental gaze didn’t inspire feelings of belonging.

 

“So, SpongeBob,” Squilliam began, picking up his tea cup, “Why don’t you tell me all about this little mess that Squidward seems to have gotten himself into?”

 

The conversation had barely begun, but SpongeBob could feel the pressure mounting. The fragile porcelain felt delicate in his hands as his grip tightened. “Barnacles! Okay, uhm. Excuse my language… Where do I even begin? This is so complicated.”

 

Squilliam smiled slyly at the sponge. “Tsk, tsk, tsk! I told you to come prepared, SpongeBob. Did you not take my advice?”

 

SpongeBob hung his head in shame, sinking low into his chair.“You don’t understand Squilliam.. you could never understand.”

 

Squilliam’s eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Are you so sure of that?” he asked as he propped his chin up on his tentacles.

 

SpongeBob quickly sat up, looking at Squilliam intently. “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, nothing at all,” Squilliam shrugged casually, though his tone suggested the contrary. “But I think you’re failing to remember that I know Squidward, perhaps even better than you do.”

 

Squilliam’s insinuation immediately rubbed SpongeBob the wrong way, and against his better judgement, he made no attempt to conceal his annoyance. After taking a slow sip of tea, he replied, “I think “knew” is the word you were looking for.”

 

Squilliam raised his unibrow, looking amused rather than offended. “You have some nerve,” he chuckled, crossing his arms.

 

SpongeBob began twiddling his thumbs nervously, regretting his lack of restraint.“Heh.. not.. usually. Sorry.”

 

“Why don’t we get back to the matter at hand?” Squilliam suggested, his tone regaining its usual condescension.

 

SpongeBob silently nodded, becoming docile as Squilliam’s eyes seemed to pierce his very soul.

 

Squilliam leaned back in his chair, his expression becoming more pensive. “You know, none of this is very surprising to me.”

 

SpongeBob’s eyebrows rose in astonishment.“It’s not?”

 

“No. Does it surprise you, SpongeBob?”

 

“Well, yes?”

 

“Well then! It’s just like I said, you don’t know him like I do.”

 

“If you know him so well, then how could you hate him? I don’t understand how two people could be so close, but grow so far apart!”

 

Squilliam shook his head in disapproval, as if speaking to a naive child, “You’re young, you have so much to learn,” he sighed.

 

SpongeBob stared at Squilliam, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I’m not even that much younger than you.”

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Squilliam chuckled, looking pleased with himself.

 

Without warning, SpongeBob slammed his hands down on the pristinely polished table, causing the cups to rattle violently. “Well then teach me! Help me understand.”

 

Squilliam held up a tentacle, signaling the exacerbated sponge to calm down. “Patience! There is much to unpack. We’ll get to it, in time.”

 

SpongeBob took a few deep, steady  breaths before speaking again. “I don’t have time. Squidward’s insurance is going to run out soon. He won’t last long outside of the hospital.”

 

“So he’s starved himself beyond all repair then? I had always wondered if it would come to this. He’s always been a perfectionist, you know.”

 

“Wait, has something like this happened before?”

 

“Not to this degree, but yes. I guess you could say, it all started in high school.”

 

Until recently, Squidward had been so closed off to him, nearly inaccessible. Squilliam was right, there was so much he didn’t know about the man he considered to be one of his dearest friends. SpongeBob’s curiosity was reaching its peak. “Go on..” he urged.

 

For a split second Squilliam let his facade slip, his eyes revealing a deep sadness that he quickly masked. He hesitated, but soon began to speak candidly. “Squidward was always.. finicky about food, his weight. He was constantly looking for a way to shed those unwanted pounds.”

 

“His mother’s constant criticism didn’t help, plus it being the nineties.. well you know..”

 

Squilliam’s demeanor began to shift. He lowered his head, as if the weight of his sins and gravity were working in tandem. “..and I myself, didn’t help,” he admitted.

 

“What do you mean by that?” SpongeBob asked, his voice soft.

 

“Well, I had the same kind of problem he did. It was our dirty little secret.”

 

The realization dawned on SpongeBob, his mouth hung open slightly. “You both had..?”

 

He affirmed SpongeBob’s suspicion with a slow nod. There was a touch of vulnerability in Squilliam’s eyes, making it clear that admitting this was not easy for him. “Do you mind?” Squilliam asked, pulling out an elegantly carved tobacco pipe.

 

“No, not at all. Go for it.”

 

SpongeBob did mind a little, but in the fear of causing offense and disrupting the conversation, he kept quiet. Quickly Squilliam struck a match which illuminated his face with a bright glow, enhancing his tense expression. SpongeBob observed as Squilliam took a slow draw from the pipe, exhaling swirling tendrils of smoke that dissipated into the high ceilings. SpongeBob had to admit to himself, Squilliam was doing an excellent job at making such an unhealthy habit look so enticing.

 

“Well, anyway,” Squilliam began, delicately placing his matchbook on the table, “Yes, it’s true. Him and I, we would make a game of it.”

 

“A.. game?”

 

“Oh yes! It was a competition of sorts. We would see who could go the longest with out eating, who could lose the most weight in a week. It was great fun. Well.. until it wasn’t.”

 

SpongeBob couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of suffering for fun, in fact, he found it all extremely disturbing. Nonetheless he held back from commenting, only nodding to signal Squilliam to continue.

 

“Things started to escalate, it was becoming dangerous. Squidward suggested that we stop, but I didn’t want to listen. I only tried to drag him down further with me, and it was because I was.. jealous,” Squilliam explained, that last word appearing painful for him to utter.

 

“His control, or what I perceived as control, it surpassed mine. It was the one thing he was better at than me. I could hardly stand it.”

 

“So, what did you do?”

 

“Well, I decided to torment him. I upped the ante. I convinced him that he was getting fatter and fatter, despite the obvious weight loss. I would tempt him into joining my sessions of binging and purging, and encouraged all kinds of self destruction.” 

 

“But it didn’t satisfy me. My envy only grew… and one day, it came back to bite me.”

 

Class had been dismissed at Bikini Bottom High School, and In a tense silence Squilliam and Squidward walked side by side on their usual route home. Squidward looked to his friend, and wondered if he should say something to break the silence.

 

“Squilliam, will you just tell me what’s wrong already?”

 

“Nothing, Squidward! I wish you would stop pestering me,” Squilliam snapped as he fondled the little bottle that he was hiding in his pocket. 

 

“Oh puh-lease! Do you expect me to not notice how you’ve been acting lately? On top of that, you look like a corpse, and not in a fashionable way.”

 

Squilliam suddenly picked up his pace, walking ahead of Squidward. Without looking back he called out, “Give it a rest, Squiddy!” as he gripped the bottle tighter.

 

Squidward jogged up behind him, trying to match Squilliam’s pace. “Hey, hold on a second!” he shouted, reaching out to grab his shoulder.

 

Squilliam leapt away from Squidward, dodging the contact while keeping his hand glued to the inside of his pocket. “Don’t touch me!” 

 

With a look of suspicion, Squidward asked. “Squilliam.. what’s in your pocket?”

 

Squilliam’s gaze darted away. “Nothing.”

 

Squidward moved closer to Squilliam’s side. “You’re a terrible liar! Just show me,” he demanded with an outstretched palm.

 

Squilliam immediately tensed up, becoming more defiant. “No.”

 

Fed up with his friend’s persistent evasiveness, Squidward gripped Squilliam by the tentacle and forcefully yanked it from his pocket. It flew from his clutches, spinning in the air before clattering onto the pavement. Both of them scrambled frantically to obtain the bottle which was rolling down the street. Squidward swiftly snatched it from the ground before Squilliam had a chance.

 

Squidward held up the bottle, squinting as he read the label. “Ipecac? Are you serious? Isn’t this the stuff that killed Karen Carpenter?”

 

Squilliam angrily pried the bottle from Squidward’s tentacles. “Probably, but it’s not going to kill me. She was an entirely different species!”

 

Squidward’s frustration eased up, and his voice became soft. “You can’t be this dense. Don’t do this, Squilliam. You’ve lost enough weight, we both have.”

 

Squilliam’s lips formed into a cruel smirk as he looked Squidward up and down. “Oh have we, Squiddy?”

 

Squidward had grown numb to his friend’s constant jabs. He had always chalked it up to Squilliam being Squilliam, but this time, it cut deep. “You know what? I’m sick of this! Do whatever you want. It’s your funeral,” he snapped, abruptly turning around and speeding off in opposite direction.

 

Squilliam shrugged before turning around to get the last word in. “Whatever! At least I’ll look good at the viewing,” he called out to Squidward, who was already nearly out of sight.

 

In telling his story, Squilliam had trailed off. He seemed to become lost in the memories. SpongeBob looked to him curiously. “What happened after that, Squilliam?” he nudged.

 

Squilliam cleared his throat before raising the pipe to his lips once more. “Oh, right. Forgive me,” he muttered, exhaling a thick plume of smoke that hung in the water between them.

 

“Well, my parents were out of town on business that day. So I planned to have quite the extravagant binge session, all by my lonesome. This is why I purchased that horrible substance in the first place.”

 

“The last thing I wanted was for Squidward to find out, I knew he would find some way to interfere. And of course, he did just that.”

 

Squilliam returned home to bask in the quiet stillness surrounding him. It wasn’t often that he was left entirely to his own devices, and there was no way he was going to let this opportunity pass him by. As dusk drew closer, his appetite picked up. He entered his luxurious kitchen, scanning each and every food item carefully to see what he could use to fill the gnawing void within. His parents had not left him wanting.

 

He started at the fridge, which was filled with decadent pastries, and artisan cheeses and meats. With his bare tentacles he devoured almost everything in sight. A fleeting thought crossed his mind and he wondered how he would explain this to his parents, but in the heat of the moment it seemed too trivial to spend much thought on.

 

After making his way through the rest of the pantry, he realized that he had finally reached his limit. It was as if the food had piled up inside him, reaching the top of his esophagus. He struggled to get off the kitchen floor at first, but managed to steady himself on the counter. Slowly, he climbed the staircase to his room where relief was waiting for him with open arms.

 

Squilliam retrieved the ipecac syrup from his pocket. He sighed with admiration as he examined the little bottle that unbeknownst to him would soon betray him. He eagerly unscrewed the lid as he walked to the bathroom. Slowly, he knelt before the toilet as if it were a shrine, it had become his own form of private devotion. He downed the poison, awaiting the sickening feeling of nausea that would wash over him.

 

Relief came. But then, it didn’t stop. It kept coming, and coming. Like a dam split open, and nothing could contain it. Squilliam felt numb, breathless. His heart was beating out of rhythm, and his vision was going in out which caused his head to spin. Suddenly he saw red. Was it blood? A hallucination? He heard some distant racket. Knocking? Screaming? Laughing? Perhaps all three.

 

“Squilliam!! Squilliam! For the love of Neptune, you better not die on me!”

Chapter 29

Squilliam pressed his tentacles together, exhaling sharply and closing his eyes. The memories were taking a toll. 

 

SpongeBob slowly reached out, placing his hand on Squilliam’s arm. He gave a slight squeeze as he whispered, “Squilliam, I..” he spoke gently, but nothing else would come out.

 

SpongeBob hadn’t expected Squilliam to bare his soul like this, everything had been presented in graphic detail, nothing held back. It made him realize more acutely how sheltered his own life had been, and how unaware he was of the depths of the pain of those around him. Why had he been so fortunate, to be spared from such turmoil? It felt as if an ominous shadow was looming over him, threatening to swallow him into oblivion. The startling reality of the world left him wondering if he could ever return to being the carefree sponge that he had always been. The urge to flee rose within him, to go sprinting back to the Krusty Krab, fall prostrate before Mr. Krabs, and beg for mercy. He desperately wanted to wipe his memory clean of everything he had seen and heard in these past months, to go back to normal.

 

Squilliam moved his arm away, lifting his eyes to meet SpongeBob’s. “No pity, please,” he said breathlessly, before averting his gaze again.

 

SpongeBob pulled his hand back before setting it in his lap. He swallowed hard, trying to push down his emotion. “He saved your life, then?”

 

“Yes, it’s true.”

 

Squidward hurried down the darkened street, his tentacles shoved deeply into his pockets as he tried to ward off the biting winter cold. He had been so lost in thought, his mind replaying his earlier quarrel with Squilliam, that he had forgotten to dress for the weather.

 

“That idiot… that idiot,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the pavement.

 

As he approached Squilliam’s home, he noticed the lights were on. He felt relieved to see that he was home this time. Squilliam had a habit of taking his boat out in the middle of the night to find empty parking lots to binge in, especially when he knew his parents would be home.

 

Squidward knocked loudly on the front door.

 

Nothing.

 

Using both of his fists this time, he tried again.

 

Silence.

 

He was tempted to start crying out to get his friend’s attention, but he knew in a neighborhood as upscale as this, causing a scene at night would not pan out well. He lingered on the front porch for a few minutes, hoping Squilliam was just taking his sweet time like always. But it was quiet, too quiet. 

 

His heart rate started to pick up. “Dear Neptune.. what do I do?” he said aloud, fidgeting with his tentacles.

 

Squidward glanced around, looking for an entry point. All the doors would undoubtedly be locked, the Fancysons were sticklers when it came to home security. He went around to the back of the house and his eyes instantly landed on Squilliam’s bedroom window. It was shut, but he knew that there was a chance it would be unlocked, knowing Squilliam’s propensity for sneaking out.

 

He stopped and sighed. “Is this really what it’s come to?”

 

Quickly, Squidward spotted a nearby trellis, it would have to do. To his surprise, he scaled it easily, his flexible limbs allowing him to move fluidly up the wall. Being an octopus had its perks, after all.

 

He had reached the window and sighed in relief as it was indeed, unlocked. As he opened it he could hear the faint sound of Danse Macabre playing, there was no denying that Squilliam was in one of his moods.

 

He climbed inside, landing on the floor with a loud thud. The room was empty, and he called out Squilliam’s name. There was no reply, but he could hear the muffled sound of groaning and retching echoing from down the hall.

 

Squidward pulled himself up from the ground to follow the noise. Panicked, he stumbled through the hallway to find the bathroom door ajar. Pulling it open, he froze. Squilliam was slumped over the toilet, his silk robe drenched in sweat and vomit. His skin was sickly pale, even worse than before, and he strained to look to Squidward who was now crying out in horror. Suddenly, Squilliam heaved, missing the toilet. What seemed like an impossibly large amount of blood tinged vomit went splattering on the floor.

 

Squidward’s breath hitched, in a mixture of fear and disgust he took a step back. “S-Squilliam.. I-I have to go get you help. An ambulance!”

 

Squidward ran down the stairs, his heart racing. He picked up the phone, dialing 911 as he tried to calm his frantic breathing.

 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

 

“Please! I need an ambulance! My friend took ipecac, he’s overdosing. There’s blood and vomit everywhere, I don’t know what to d-“

 

“What is your location?”

 

“The Fancyson’s house, you know, the mansion on Pearl Avenue! I-I’m forgetting the exact address.”

 

“Please try to remain calm, sir. An ambulance is on the way. Is your friend conscious?”

 

“Yes, but barely. His eyes are all.. glassy, and his breathing is shallow. Dear Neptune.. I-“

 

“Where is your friend right now? Is he in the room with you?”

 

“No, he’s upstairs in the bathroom.”

 

“Listen carefully, I’m going to need you to put the phone down. Go unlock the front door so the paramedics can get in, and then return to your friend. Make sure he stays either on his side or sitting up straight. If he looses consciousness, he could choke on his vomit.”

 

Squidward followed the operators directions and after unlocking the door he rushed back to the bathroom. As he entered he was hit by the foul stench of vomit, and his stomach lurched. Squilliam was now lying on the ground next to the toilet in a supine position. His eyes were closed but he was still visibly breathing.

 

Squidward dropped down on his knees next to Squilliam, carefully placing a hand under his head. “Squilliam, are you awake? I need to sit you upright!”

 

Squilliam’s eyes fluttered open slightly. “Please.. don’t,” he whispered, making a pathetic attempt to pull away.

 

“Don’t what?!” Squidward asked, tightening his hold.

 

Squilliam paused and took Squidward’s tentacle into his own. “You’re going to get vomit on your sweater.. it’s cashmere.” 

 

Squidward shook his head in disbelief. “ Are you… “ he scoffed, ripping his tentacle from Squilliam’s. “Just shut up and do as I say!” he snapped, cutting himself off.

 

Suddenly Squilliam stiffened like a statue, his eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible. Squidward watched, terrified, as convulsions ripped through his friend’s body. Never before had he witnessed a seizure, and never had he seen something so out of control. Control. It was what they were both striving for, but had been straying further and further from everyday.

 

Squidward struggled to turn Squilliam on his side, but with the violence of his thrashing and the floor slick with vomit, it was no use.

 

“Come on! Come on!” Squidward cried out, determined to not give up.

 

Just then, he noticed the sound of wailing sirens growing louder and louder. Relief washed over him momentarily, and as soon as he heard the front door open he backed out of the bathroom to make way for the paramedics. He watched silently as they rushed to Squilliam’s side.

 

As they were tending to Squilliam, the fit suddenly stopped. He went limp, Squidward was almost certain he was dead. He saw the paramedics mutter something to one another, but he blocked it out, too fixated on Squilliam’s seemingly lifeless body.

 

As they laid Squilliam on the stretcher, a paramedic turned to him and spoke. He still couldn’t hear anything. The paramedic waved a fin in front of Squidward’s face.

 

Squidward flinched. “ What! What is it?”

 

“We’re taking him now, will you be coming as well?”

 

“No.”

Chapter 30

The weight of Squilliam’s revelation was clear on SpongeBob’s face, his blue eyes filled with sorrow, brows drawn together tightly. “He didn’t go with you? But… why?”

 

Squilliam shrugged, SpongeBob couldn’t quite read his expression. “I don’t know. I never asked.”

 

SpongeBob leaned back in his chair, his eyes wandering as his mind tried to put together the pieces of Squilliam and Squidward’s past. Squilliam took a deep breath, and lit his pipe again before speaking.

 

“I don’t blame him for not coming,” Squilliam continued, exhaling another large cloud of smoke. “After how I had been behaving, and after seeing.. that.”

 

There was a noticeable tremble in Squilliam’s voice, and he struggled to maintain eye contact. Shame was not an emotion that he was well acquainted with, and it made its arrival like an unwelcome guest that had no intention of leaving. Over the years, Squilliam had constructed his illustrious facade to perfection, and now he had just exposed his deepest shame to a fry cook that he barely knew.

 

SpongeBob sniffled softly, brushing a tear from his eye. “So that’s why you two aren’t friends anymore?” he asked, his lip quivering.

 

The sound of the sponge’s voice, brimming with tenderness and concern, it made Squilliam squirm. The cephalopod would never confess it aloud, but this peculiar little creature made him feel, dare he say, safe. He had grown so accustomed to shallow interactions, day in and day out. He knew very well that the people in his circle cared for nothing other than wealth. In truth, Squilliam was simply an object to them, a pawn in their scheme to elevate their own status. 

 

After a long pause, Squilliam pulled himself from his thoughts and answered SoongeBob, “No. Well, not quite.”

 

“My family forced me into treatment after the whole ordeal. It caused much strain within my family, to put it lightly. And I loathed that place, more than you could imagine. At the time, death seemed preferable to what I was going through, and I was livid with Squidward for finding me. I was also filled with envy that his life was able to go on like normal, even though he had been indulging in the same kind of self destruction that I was.”

 

“It wasn’t fair,” Squilliam added, his voice cracking slightly.

 

“Oh Squilliam..” SpongeBob comforted, reaching out slowly toward Squilliam’s tentacle.

 

Before SpongeBob was able to make contact Squilliam subtlety pulled back his tentacle, resting it beneath his chin. “From then on our interactions we’re just as you’ve seen them play out before. Filled with bitterness and resentment,” he said with a despondent air, his dark eyes drifting away again. 

 

SpongeBob nodded, whispering, “I understand now..”

 

Squilliam took one final draw from the pipe, and met SpongeBob’s gaze firmly. “But ultimately he saved my life, and that’s why I will help him.” He let out a sigh of resignation, “I suppose I owe him that much.”

 

Suddenly SpongeBob excitedly sprang from his seat and leapt into the air, shattering the solemn atmosphere in an instant. “YIPEEEE!!” he cried, tossing his hands into the air.

 

Squilliam flinched at the sudden shift in mood, the unrestrained joy feeling more alien to him than even Rock Bottom. But despite his initial displeasure, the cephalopod felt his lips twitch slightly, as if a smile was trying to break through.

 

SpongeBob seized Squilliam’s tentacle, holding it in both of his hand tightly. The sponge’s eyes glistened as he looked at him. “Thank you, Squilliam. You don’t know how much this means to me, and how much it will mean to Squidward, most importantly!”

 

“It’s my.. pleasure,” Squilliam chucked uncomfortably, waiting for SpongeBob to release his hold on him.

 

Although SpongeBob’s sincerity was clear, he wasn’t sure how well received his offer of help would be. Squilliam, knowing both he and his fellow cephalopod shared in the vice of pride, could easily imagine Squidward choosing to suffer death over accepting aid from his life long rival.

 

Squilliam slowly withdrew his tentacle before awkwardly clearing his throat. “But perhaps we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves here,” he said, rising from his seat elegantly. 

 

SpongeBob’s expression sunk, the hope beginning to drain from his features. He quickly moved closer to Squilliam. “Wait, what do you mean?”

 

“SpongeBob, you need to realize that Squidward may not want my help. He won’t want to owe me anything, especially not.. his life.”

 

SpongeBob shook his head, immediately rejecting what he had heard. “Oh c’mon! That’s silly talk, Squilliam. of course Squidward will agree. I know he will!”

 

Unsure of what to say, Squilliam returned the sponge’s optimism with a skeptical glance. There was a part of him that secretly admired SpongeBob’s tenacity, but still, he wasn’t entirely swayed by it.

 

Without giving Squilliam a chance to speak SpongeBob continued, “And well, it’s not like he actually owes you anything! I mean, he doesn’t. Right?” he asked, his confidence faltering for a moment.

 

Squilliam rolled his eyes and huffed. “Of course not,” he said, flicking his wrist dramatically. “But he might not see it that way,” he added, his tone sharp.

 

Refusing to let anymore discouragement creep in, SpongeBob flashed a gleaming smile at the cephalopod. “Well maybe he just needs to know that you really care!”

 

Squilliam’s body went rigid as he stared blankly at the sponge. “What are you implying?”

 

SpongeBob lowered his gaze and let out a soft chuckle. “Why don’t you go visit him, Squilliam? Ya know, talk things out.”

 

Squilliam paused, raising a tentacle to his lips thoughtfully. “I.. don’t think would be wise. In fact, it might make everything worse,” he answered, shaking his head disapprovingly.

 

SpongeBob smiled again, but this time it was softer. His brows were furrowed slightly, Squilliam couldn’t tell if it was look of pity or disappointment. Maybe it was both, but it made him feel small, as if the tables had turned and he was the naive child.

 

“Will you trust me, Squilliam?” SpongeBob asked, with a look of quiet desperation.

 

Squilliam began to pace slowly throughout the room, gently tapping his lower lip as he deliberated the question. It was a question that he had never been presented with, and the thought of trusting anyone other than himself left a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned his head to look at SpongeBob, who was still sanding next to the table fidgeting with his hands, waiting for an answer. As he observed, the contrast between them becoming strikingly clear. In Squilliam’s mind, his own hardheartedness only magnified SpongeBob’s unmistakable purity. Maybe the fry cook was naive, and silly and everything he detested, but he certainly was not lacking in heart. If he was going to put his faith in anyone, it might as well be him.

 

“Yes. I suppose, I will.”

Chapter 31

Mr. Krabs sat at his desk, hunched over as he counted his beloved money. Each coin’s clink brought with it a small twinge of excitement, but as he thought of his two former employees, the thrill grew duller with every drop. Technically, Squidward had never quit, but the crustacean knew that SpongeBob would tell him everything. The kid couldn’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. Squidward would have no reason to come back, he had been on the verge of quitting for years anyway.

 

As for SpongeBob, well, Krabs didn’t know the lad had it in him. To just up and quit like that, at the drop of a hat. Working at the Krusty Krab was his whole life, what gave his existence purpose. And to give it all up like that.. for what? In support of that useless cashier?

 

Unbelievable.

 

Mr. Krabs got up from his chair and scuttled over to the porthole window of his office. He peered out, scanning the dining room. There were some customers scattered about, but visibly less. Pearl had taken over as cashier for the time being, and he had to hire one of her friends as a temporary fry cook. It wasn’t going as disastrously as he initially anticipated, but it wasn’t great either. At least he could get away with paying his new employees even less, and he knew Pearl wouldn’t complain considering it was more than her allowance. He took one final look before letting out a tired sigh and returning to his desk.

 

He considered resuming his money counting, but the idea seemed tedious. He opened up his desk and reached inside, pulling out a bottle of rum. He examined the worn label, trying to remember when he had purchased the stuff, it must have been ages ago. He hesitated before raising the bottle to lips and taking a generous swig. His eyes squinted as the sensation washed over him; it tasted even worse than he remembered, but the warmth that followed made him quickly forget.

 

As he was about to take another drink, the floor began to shake violently, nearly causing the bottle to slip from his claws. “Daddy! Daddy!” Pearl cried out as she swung upon the door at full speed. He tried conceal the rum but it was pointless, her eyes immediately locked onto it.

 

Pearl crossed her fins, raising an eyebrow at her father. “Um, daddy?”

 

Mr. Krabs sat up straight in his chair, forcing a smile. “Yes, me darling daughter?” he said in an overly cheerful manner.

 

Immediately seeing through him, she rolled her eyes. “Are you having another mid life crisis or something?” she sighed.

 

Mr. Krabs cleared his throat roughly. “Mid life crisis?! No, no, nothing of the sort. Just trying to unwind after a hard days work! That’s all,” he reassured.

 

With a blank expression, Pearl gestured to the clock on the wall. “It’s eight in the morning, daddy.”

 

Mr. Krabs glanced up at the clock, his face growing weary. “Oh.. it is? Feels like it’s been longer.”

 

As Pearl saw her father’s demeanor shift, she approached the desk, resting her fin gently atop his claw. “Are you sure you’re okay, daddy?” she asked, being unusually tender.

 

“Yes dear, just a little stressed. It’ll all be okay.”

 

“This is about SpongeBob, isn’t it? Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

 

“It’s grown up stuff, lass! Nothing you should be worrying your pretty little head over.”

 

“Oh please, daddy! I’m not a little girl anymore, you can tell me. Maybe I can help?”

 

“It’s too complicated, Pearl.”

 

“It’s SpongeBob, how complicated could it be?”

 

“Ehrm.. well you’ve got a point, I suppose.”

 

With her eyes wide, and lips jutting out ever so slightly, Pearl gave her father a pleading look, the one she knew never failed to break his resolve. As she batted her eyelashes, Mr. Krabs could already feel himself caving. He tried to keep his gaze firm and unyielding, but a soft smile began to peek through.

 

“Dear Neptune.. oh fine! I’ll tell ya, but only what you need to know,” he huffed, knowing he had been defeated.

 

Pearl, who was quite pleased with herself, let out a quiet giggle. Intrigued, she leaned in closer as if she were about to exchange scandalous gossip with one of her girlfriends.

 

“Squidward has been sick in the hospital, and I said some things that weren’t exactly.. kind? But that self indulgent cephalopod, he brought it upon himself! I can’t keep excusin’ his laziness, it’s gone on for far too long,” the crustacean said, slamming his claws down on the desk in frustration.

 

Pearl flinched, not saying a word. He paused, looking a little ashamed of his outburst. “Anyway, SpongeBob and I exchanged some harsh words, and he quit,” he concluded, waving his claw flippantly.

 

Surprised, Pearl pulled back, resting her fin on her hip. “Wow, he quit? You must’ve been a real jerk then.”

 

Mr. Krabs sunk down in his seat, the guilt he had been trying to fight off seemed to be winning. “Thanks, Pearly..”

 

Pearl shrugged. “I’m just being honest.”

 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “I suppose you are, I’ve always appreciated that about ya,” Krabs sighed, his tone softening.

 

Lost in thought, Pearl ignored the compliment. “But how can it be Squidward’s fault that he’s sick? Sometimes people just get sick.”

 

“I guess you could say that’s the complicated part,” Mr. Krabs muttered.

 

“Well, maybe it’s not actually his fault. Can’t you try working it out with them? Yeah, I know they’re both kinda lame, but you’ve always said that they’re basically family,” she reasoned, being gentle yet firm.

 

“Plus, I really don’t want to have to keep working here if I don’t have to. Boys Who Cry are going on another tour in two weeks, and I have to be there!” she added, her voice becoming higher.

 

“Alright, Pearly. I’ll think about it, okay? Now, run along,” he said, shooing her away.

 

Pearl began to head for door before stopping in place, remembering her original intention for seeking out her father. “Wait, I was going to ask if I could take a break?”

 

“Argh, argh, argh! Ya just took one, now get back to work, darling.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

With Pearl’s absence, he was left with a hollow ache in his chest. He eyed the bottle on his desk again. Slowly, he reached for it, his claw hovering for a moment. He was trapped somewhere between need and regret.

 

Finally, he gave in, grimacing as he took another sip. He thought he saw something swirling in that amber liquid, a speck of dust maybe, or mold. He couldn’t bring himself to the point of caring, he gulped it down as fast as possible. A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt, right?

 

 

Maybe I’ve been too hard on those two.. I guess I’ll have to swallow me pride.

Chapter 32

Mr. Krabs left the Krusty Krab that night in a drunken stupor, with the pungent smell of rum clinging to his clothes. The scenery around him seemed to shift and tilt as he made his way down the street, the erratic flickering of the street lamps only increasing his struggle. Once he had reached the main road, he glanced in the direction of his own home, then slowly he shifted his gaze to Conch street.

 

This is a bad idea.

 

Quickly ignoring the voice of reason, he made his decision. His heart began to pound as he stumbled down the road, his breathing ragged and heavy. His tolerance for alcohol had become embarrassingly low since his navy days, the way his body felt like it was on the brink of giving out was proof enough.

 

As the familiar spiky green leaves of SpongeBob’s pineapple peeked out over the horizon, he murmured to himself, “It’s now.. or never.”

 

What was he even doing here? Barging in like some low life, after everything that had been said and done. He knew that his presence wasn’t wanted, but there was a chance. Wasn’t there? SpongeBob was a forgiving one, endlessly compassionate. But it was all so fresh, it would undoubtedly be wiser to wait some time before attempting to patch things up with the sponge. Once more, he ignored the voice in his head urging him to go home. He lifted his shaky claw, letting it hover over the door.

 

“SpongeBob!” he called out as he began to knock, sounding more aggressive than he intended.

 

There was no response at first, but soon he heard footsteps. His heart jumped and he took a shuddering breath as he waited for the door to open. With every second that passed he felt dizzier and dizzier.

 

“Mr. Krabs? What are you doing here?” SpongeBob asked, peering through the door that was open only ajar. The crustacean could hardly see the boy’s face.

 

Mr. Krabs took a few wobbly steps toward the door. “Lad, can I.. can I come in?” he croaked. He sounded pathetic, and he knew it.

 

SpongeBob opened the door wider, staring back at him with wide eyes. “Are you.. drunk?” he asked, his nose quickly detecting the harsh scent of liquor emanating from his former boss.

 

Mr. Krabs pulled back, squinting from the harsh light. “Just a wee bit, lad. Nothin’ to be concerned about..” he slurred, waving his claw in the air. “Needed some courage, ya know.. to talk.”

 

SpongeBob’s expression hardened severely. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about. Not while you’re like this.”

 

The sight of that face, usually full of cheer but now devoid of warmth, filled Mr. Krabs with dread. He had screwed up, big time.

 

“N-now hold on just a minute!” he protested, sharply raising his claw in the air. “I know.. I know, I’m drunk. I know I’ve messed up. I ain’t proud of it, ya know? But I only want to make things right.” he continued, swaying as he spoke.

 

SpongeBob’s grip on the door tightened significantly, he looked down, shaking his head. “I can’t do this right now, Eugene,” he breathed, his voice much lower than it usually was.

 

Eugene? He never calls me that.

 

SpongeBob looked up at Mr. Krabs, his gaze burning through him. Though his eyes were filling with tears, a quiet rage painted his features. “You have no idea, not even the slightest idea, what I’ve been going through..” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What Squidward has been going through.”

 

“Lad, I-“

 

“What? You can’t handle a couple days of lost profit?”

 

“N-no! That’s not-“

 

“You know, I’ve always tried to make excuses for you, Eugene. But I’m starting to wonder if I really am as naive as they say. You did try to sell my soul for sixty two cents after all, and I brushed it off like it was nothing, like a fool!”

 

Mr. Krabs eyes began to widen as he remembered that day, he broke out into a cold sweat. SpongeBob took a step closer to the guilt ridden crustacean. “Yeah, I didn’t forget about that,” he chuckled dryly.

 

Mr. Krab’s liquid courage had run dry, all he could do now was listen as SpongeBob aired his grievances. “You would really rather have me be tormented for all eternity if it meant you could have some extra pocket change. For Neptune’s sake, I used to look up to you! I thought you were strong, and brave. But what are you? you’re just a..” SpongeBob trailed off, his anger quickly turning into heartbreak.

 

Mr. Krabs wanted to say something, anything to make him listen, to show SpongeBob he was truly contrite. But his words failed him, and he felt as though his own character had been exposed for exactly what it was. Corrupt, greedy, entirely self interested, with barely any room left for love. He had spent his entire life filling himself up with the one thing he had set his sights on; wealth, and it left him completely empty. He felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, being seared alive by the light.

 

Mr. Krabs looked completely beaten down, his head hung low in shame. “I-I’m a rotten scoundrel, SpongeBob. This, I know. I have no excuse,” he shrugged.

 

A small gasp escaped from SpongeBob’s lips as he began to cry, his tears raining down on the sand below him. There was nothing more to say. 

 

Mr. Krabs stumbled slightly as he turned to leave. “I’ll leave you be, lad. Good night,” he whispered, not looking back.

 

SpongeBob watched as Mr. Krabs staggered away, swallowed by the darkness. His chest tightened, and his throat burned. So many different emotions raged within him at once. Anger, resentment, pity and even love. Why did he pity this heartless, old cheapskate? In moments like these he would curse himself, for having such a deep love for those who spat in his face repeatedly and with little remorse. He had already forgiven the crustacean, even if his words didn’t show it. But he knew that he needed to leave the man alone with his thoughts for a while, it was perhaps his only hope. If he didn’t, SpongeBob knew that in the end, the only thing waiting for Mr. Krabs was the gaping maw of Davey Jones locker. The old crab had cheated death twice already, how many more times could he tempt fate and leave unscathed?

Chapter 33

Notes:

Hello! I’m sorry it took so long to get this chapter posted. I’ve been traveling, then unfortunately got sick right after getting home. But I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading! I plan to have another chapter for you sometime this coming week.

Squilliam despised hospitals. They were wretched places, full of disease, and inescapable reminders of his own mortality seemed to lurk around every corner. He wanted this ordeal to be behind him already, but he found himself restlessly pacing up and down the corridor. The sterile smell permeating the space was only fueling his discontent, each step began to feel heavier than the last. After a few more paces he stopped and sighed, taking notice of the time, an hour had managed to slip by. With a soft groan, he smoothed his already perfectly ironed robes, readying himself to enter the room. It was only Squidward, clearly his inferior. It was a comforting thought at first, but as he stood idle in front of the door, he briefly questioned it before deciding to forget the thought altogether.

 

 

Finally mustering the courage, Squilliam softly knocked, and waited for a response.

 

“Come in, Sponge-“

 

Squidward’s face instantly fell when his eyes landed on Squilliam, who stood in the doorway with an unreadable expression. “Oh.. it’s you,” he said, his eyes narrowed sharply at the other cephalopod.

 

Squilliam suddenly straightened up, and with his usual pomp, approached Squidward’s bedside with an exaggerated grace. “Hello, Squiddy,” he greeted, finding it difficult to drop his usual act.

 

Squidward turned away with a heavy sigh. “I really don’t have the energy for this, Squilliam.. whatever it is you’re doing,” he muttered, flicking his frail wrist in front of Squilliam’s face, as if swatting at some bothersome insect.

 

As Squiliam’s eyes traced Squidward’s form, his chest tightened, and any witty remark he may have been preparing dissolved into nothingness. He had seen him thin before, even scarily so, but this was different. There was hardly anything left of the man, his body seemed to be almost lost in the hospital bed, as if it were devouring him whole.

 

Squilliam’s lips parted, ready to speak, but he was interrupted. “Well, go ahead. Gloat. Get it out of your system,” Squidward shrugged, staring blankly at the wall.

 

Squidward seemed distant, disinterested. It wasn’t the reaction Squilliam had anticipated. He’d half expected to be met with unrestrained outrage, accompanied by a barrage of insults the second he entered the room. But now, Squidward’s contempt felt muted, strangely quiet.

 

Squilliam took one step closer and placed his tentacle on the bed rail. “Gloat? Do you really think so little of me?” he asked, not sounding nearly as genuine as he had hoped.

 

Squidward scoffed, his eyes still focusing on the wall facing him. “You should know by now, how little I think of you.”

 

A painful silence began to stretch between them. The only sound to be heard was the shuffling of footsteps coming from the hall, and the monotonous beeping of medical equipment. Squilliam shifted uncomfortably, and removed his tentacle from the rail. Squidward remained like a statue, still refusing to look at him.

 

Finally Squidward broke the silence, causing Squilliam to flinch. “You must be loving this.”

 

Squilliam’s eyes widened. “Pardon?” he asked, clearing his throat.

 

Squidward finally looked at him, his gaze heavy and scrutinizing. “You heard me.”

 

Squilliam bit his lip. “I’m not entirely without a heart, you know,” Squilliam answered, his voice unusually quiet.

 

The fire in Squidward’s eyes seemed to die down, and he turned away again.“Could’ve fooled me,” he breathed.

 

Squilliam leaned over the bed slightly, hoping to catch his gaze. “Seeing you like this, is not as satisfying as one might imagine.”

 

Squidward paused, resting a tentacle under his chin, looking as if he were silently piecing together a puzzle. “You know.. I don’t think I want your pity either.”

 

Squilliam pulled back, rolling his eyes.“Then what do you want?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Nothing? I find that hard to believe.”

 

Squidward took a deep breath and folded his tentacles in his lap. “Actually, I do want something,” he said softly.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“For you to leave, and spare me the added mental torment,” Squidward snapped, his words tainted by bitterness. “You’ve already won, Squilliam. Look at me!” he shouted, motioning to himself frantically. “I’m a dead man walking. You win, I lose. Is your ego still not satisfied?”

 

Squilliam’s eyes flashed with anger. “Enough!“ he shouted, taking a step closer. “You’re acting like I’m some kind of psychopath! But I’m not enjoying this, I didn’t come here to rub salt in your wounds. This is no victory for me! It’s just.. pitiful.”

 

Tears began to sting Squidward’s eyes, and with the little strength he had left, he forcefully pulled himself from the bed to face Squilliam. “Why did you come here then!?” he shouted, jabbing a tentacle into Squilliam’s chest.

 

Squilliam grabbed Squidward’s tentacle, thrusting it away from himself. “To help, you idiot!”

 

Squidward stared at him, wide eyed, certain that his ears were deceiving him. Even as friends, Squilliam would rarely offer him, or anyone for that matter, help out of the kindness of his heart. With Squilliam, there were always strings attached. This had to be some sick joke, one last chance to humiliate him when he was at his lowest. But there was a flicker of something genuine in Squilliam’s eyes, and it made his head spin.

 

Squidward’s disbelief was unmistakable as his face twisted into a bizarre expression. “Help? You help me?” he asked, his voice cracking and tentacles balling into fists.

 

Unsure whether Squidward was about to laugh, burst into tears, or take a swing at him, Squilliam took a quick step back. “Please.. Squiddy. Enough with the theatrics, let’s be civilized now.”

 

Squidward relaxed slightly, and chuckled. “Theatrics? That’s rich coming from you of all people.”

 

Squilliam shrugged. “I know, but just listen to me.”

 

“Fine. Go on.”

 

“Yesterday, your little yellow friend came to me. He told me everything.”

 

Squidward’s face flushed, and he let out a quiet sigh. The thought of those two, sharing intimate details about his personal life while he wasn’t present felt strange, and utterly humiliating. “Typical,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

 

“And I suppose you could say.. he softened my heart, just a bit,” Squilliam said, smiling faintly at the memory.

 

Still flooded with embarrassment, Squidward’s eyes traveled to the floor.“Yeah, he has a way of doing that.”

 

“Well then!” Squilliam abruptly exclaimed, seeming to effortlessly shake off any lingering anger, like nothing had ever happen. “I’ll pay for your treatment then.”

 

Squidward shook his head and let himself collapse back onto the bed. “N-no! I can’t accept this, Squilliam. I can’t do this.”

 

Squilliam towered over him, looking at him with intensity. “You can, and you will,” he said, his voice commanding yet somehow gentle.

 

“I could never pay you back! And do you really think I want you hanging this over my head for the rest of my life?”

 

“You will owe me nothing. I give you my word.”

 

“Your word? Since when has that ever meant anything?!”

 

Squilliam reached out, resting a tentacle on Squidward’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. It felt foreign, but he tried to give a genuine smile. “It means something now.”

 

 

Tears welled in Squidward’s eyes as he looked up at Squilliam, studying his face intently. Years had passed without the slightest hint that Squilliam still cared, and now, he wasn’t sure he was ready. Squidward had grown accustomed to their mutual animosity, it was comfortable, predictable. His voice trembled as he asked, “Why now?”

 

Squilliam smiled again, but it was softer this time. There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading. “Squiddy, what other option do you have than to trust me?”

Chapter 34

Squilliam was gone, and Squidward lay in silence. This was his routine now. Stare at the wall, sink deeper into his own misery, try to choke down whatever slop was served, wait for SpongeBob, repeat. It had only been days, but it felt like a lifetime, and he wasn’t looking forward to more of this.

 

Begrudgingly, he accepted the offer, but it didn’t sit right with him. When Squilliam left, it was hurried, so much was left unspoken. He couldn’t wrap his head around this apparent change of heart, it was all too good to be true.

 

But one thing was clear: there was someone even less trustworthy than Squilliam, and that was himself.

 

Squidward knew there was no way he could manage this on his own, his self loathing ran too deep. Sure, he might be able to stay afloat for a while, keep up appearances. The fear of breaking SpongeBob’s heart was still a powerful motivator, but even that would fizzle out in time.

 

As Squidward began to drift even deeper into thought, he heard it. The familiar squeak of SpongeBob’s shoes approaching. He straightened up in his bed, preparing himself for SpongeBob’s boundless energy.

 

The door was already open, and SpongeBob walked in. His usual toothy grin was absent, and there was no boisterous greeting.

 

Squidward stared at him, confused. “Um.. Hi?”

 

Still silent, SpongeBob shuffled toward Squidward’s bed. His large eyes glistened, the corners of his mouth quivering. Squidward felt something twist in his chest as he watched, he wasn’t sure if he should speak. SpongeBob had fulfilled his promise, so why did he look like he was on the verge of falling apart?

 

 

Squidward swallowed hard. “SpongeBob, what’s wrong?”

 

SpongeBob took a shaky step forward, and without a word, threw his arms around Squidward. The suddenness of the embrace left his tentacles suspended awkwardly in the air. But then, the sound of muffled sobs reached his ears, and slowly, he lowered them. He held SpongeBob close for a while, not saying anything.

 

After a few minutes, SpongeBob lifted his head from Squidward’s chest. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m happy. But also… sad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispered, his face still full of tension.

 

Squidward smiled faintly, and placed his tentacle on top of SpongeBob’s head. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve endured a lot for me, SpongeBob. Give yourself a break.”

 

SpongeBob wiped the tears from his face and nodded, whispering something inaudible. Squidward watched him closely, he looked different, like he had been wrung out one too many times. His usual vibrant yellow color was now faded, and the dark rings around his eyes added years to his appearance. His entire demeanor had changed, like his innocence had been ripped from him. Squidward inwardly cursed himself for letting this happen. 

 

Squidward let out a sigh and gently pushed SpongeBob back so he could look him in the eye. “Look, you need to rest. You should go home. Being here all the time, it’s not good for you.”

 

SpongeBob jumped, looking taken aback. “W-what do you mean?”

 

“SpongeBob, just look at yourself.”

 

In one swift movement, SpongeBob pulled out a mirror, seemingly out of nowhere. With wide, blood shot eyes he studied his own reflection. “What?! I don’t get it,” he said, his voice rising in pitch. He flung the thing around, inspecting himself from every angle imaginable. “I look fine! Right? I’m.. fine.”

 

Squidward groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. “You’re only proving my point! When was the last time you slept?”

 

A nervous laughed bubbled out SpongeBob. “Heh, I.. don’t know. Couldn’t have been too long ago,” he said, seating himself in the chair next to the bed. He slumped over, letting his face rest in his hands. “You wanna know something, Squidward?” 

 

“Um, sure,” Squidward answered, dreading what he might hear next.

 

“I’m such a phony,” SpongeBob said, his face still buried his hands. 

 

“A phony?” Squidward parroted, his tone skeptical. “SpongeBob, you’re a lot of things, but not that.”

 

“You don’t get it. I’ve been putting on a face. At first it was real, but then it wasn’t. But I kept doing it, I had to. What else was I supposed to do?”

 

Squidward swung his legs over the side of his bed and faced SpongeBob directly. “I’m sorry, but what?”

 

SpongeBob gazed up at him, his face drooping miserably. “I’ve been trying to be brave, for you, for everyone. Even for Squilliam, but it’s tearing me apart. Everything.. is tearing me apart.”

 

Squidward dragged a tentacle down his face in frustration. “Dear Neptune. SpongeBob, you aren’t.. you don’t..” he trailed off, shaking his head.

 

Taking advantage of Squidward’s loss for words, SpongeBob spoke again. “Why is there so much suffering? Why did it take me so long to see it?” he asked, his voice so soft that it could barely be heard.

 

SpongeBob was spiraling, and Squidward felt helpless. He wasn’t a therapist, he wasn’t good with feelings, he was hardly good at being a friend. How was he supposed to offer any comfort when he was so mentally fragmented himself?

 

 

“I.. I don’t have the answers to all of these things. And believe me, I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about it,” Squidward stuttered, awkwardly motioning for SpongeBob to come to him. The sponge quickly joined him, sitting next to him on the bed. “But you, well, you shouldn’t think so hard. You can’t let this drag you down.”

 

SpongeBob let his tired head rest on Squidward’s shoulder, he said nothing, only listened. “And you’re right, there’s a lot of darkness in this world. But it needs you, and I.. need you. Okay?” Squidward said, shifting slightly and looking down at him. He couldn’t tell what SpongeBob was thinking or feeling, but he continued anyway. “There has to be some lightness too, otherwise we’re all doomed.”

 

There was still silence, and it was making Squidward worry. “You’re not a phony either. You’re just.. a person, in a messy situation. And you’re a good person, a good man. A better one than I’ll ever be.”

Squidward shrugged. “This is all my fault anyway, so don’t beat yourself up,” he added. 

 

He looked down at SpongeBob who had slumped further against his side, his eyes barely open. “Are you even listening?”

 

There was a pause before SpongeBob faintly mumbled, “Yeah.. I heard you, Squiddy.”

 

Squidward rolled his eyes, not exactly convinced by his words. He watched as SpongeBob’s eyes fluttered closed, and as delicately as possible, he replaced his own body with a pillow. Carefully, he scooted to the other side of the bed, putting a little space between them.

 

Again, he was face to face with that same blank white wall. But somehow, SpongeBob’s quiet presence, his soft steady breathing, made the silence feel less suffocating. Almost tolerable.

 

 

 

Chapter 35

Notes:

Sorry I don’t have a longer chapter for you guys! I’m struggling a little bit with where I want to take the story from here. I’m open to suggestions, so if If you have any requests for what you might like to see in the next chapter, please leave a comment and let me know 😊

The paperwork was complete, the finances were in order, and finally, Squidward could kiss Bikini Bottom Hospital goodbye. He should have felt relief, maybe even joy, but the knowledge of his next stop brought any cause for celebration to a screeching halt. Still, it would be different. And Squidward needed different, whether he liked it or not. At least the monotony of his daily life would be broken up a bit, a much needed reprieve, or so he hoped.

 

Now came the time for him to part with SpongeBob, who, of course, wasn’t making this easy. He clung to Squidward, a blubbering mess of tears and snot. “I-I’m gonna miss you so much, Squiddy!”

 

“SpongeBob, you know you can visit me, right? You’ll see me soon,” Squidward said, gently trying to pry him off.

 

“B-but only once a week!” SpongeBob wailed, tightening his grip despite the resistance.

 

Squidward looked down at him with pity. He’d be lying if he said a part of him didn’t want to cling back. To hold onto something familiar, something safe. “Hey.. come on now. It’ll be alright. This is for the best, you know that,” he murmured, trying to force down the lump rising in his throat.

 

Gradually, SpongeBob loosened his grip, his hands falling to his sides. “I know.. I know,” he said softly.

 

“I’m.. gonna get better,” Squidward whispered, barely audible, like the words were meant only for himself.

 

SpongeBob perked up slightly, his lips curling into a hesitant smile. “Do you promise?”

 

Do you promise?

 

The question seemed to be suspended between them, playing on a loop in Squidward’s mind. Had he ever made a  sincere promise before? Was it even possible to make one now? He didn’t know how this would end, didn’t know if he had the strength. All he knew was that he wanted to get better, or at least some part of him did. Maybe it was just out of instinct , some stubborn impulse for survival.

 

 

“Do I promise?” Squidward repeated slowly, his eyes beginning to wander around the room.

 

After a few moments of silence, his gaze met SpongeBob’s, and those wide, hopeful eyes struck him like a harpoon to the chest. That was the thing about SpongeBob, with just one look, he could make you feel as if the entire fate of the world hinged on your answer.

 

“I’ll try,” Squidward said finally, his voice hushed and uncertain. It wasn’t really a promise, but it was the best he could offer.

 

SpongeBob’s face lit up in response, his smile growing brighter. “That’s good enough for me!”

 

The moment was interrupted by an orderly appearing in the doorway, motioning for Squidward to follow.  He hesitated at first, his eyes darting between the imposing figure and SpongeBob. “Uh, just a second!” Squidward called out, holding up a tentacle.

 

Turning back he placed it gently on SpongeBob’s head. A tender gesture, previously unthinkable, but now becoming routine. “It’s time, Sponge,” he whispered, his voice almost cracking. “I’ve gotta go.” He tried to smile, to give some reassurance, but his lips were cemented into their familiar frown.

 

SpongeBob looked like he might cry again, but miraculously he was able to hold it together. Clearing his throat, he gave a firm nod. “Bye, Squidward. Good luck.”

 

Squidward nodded in return, lifting his bag off the bed and slinging it over his frail shoulder. He shuffled towards the door, but stopped abruptly before turning around. “SpongeBob?”

 

“Yeah?” SpongeBob asked, his eyebrow raised.

 

“Get some rest, okay? And maybe.. patch things up with Mr. Krabs. You could use some normalcy right about now.”

 

Before he could answer, Squidward turned away and hurried after the orderly. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving SpongeBob alone in the empty room. His shoulders slumped, the silence Squidward left behind weighing down on him.

 

SpongeBob sat down on the unoccupied hospital bed, running his fingers over the rough fabric as he thought about what Squidward had said. Rest. Patch things up. Normalcy. He looked back at the door, staring at it for a while, as if willing it to open again.

 

I guess.. this is for the best.

Chapter 36

Notes:

Hello! I’m back. Sorry for the long hiatus, life has been hectic and for some reason I found it difficult to figure out how to transition the story to a new setting. Anyways, I hope the new year has been treating you all well. Enjoy! 😊

After reluctantly settling into a worn out armchair, Squidward glanced around the group therapy room. The walls were a dull beige, the chipped paint turning slightly yellow. A few framed paintings of coral reefs and various landscapes hung unevenly, the glass coated with a thick layer of dust. The place looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the eighties, and it wasn’t exactly inspiring.

 

Squidward sighed and took a sip out of the small styrofoam cup he was holding. Coffee, black of course. He figured he might as well avoid extra calories before they inevitably stuffed him to the brim. “No wonder everyone here looks miserable, this decor is tasteless,” Squidward muttered, mostly to himself.

 

He heard a soft giggle coming from beside him. “I don’t know,” a gentle voice said. “I kind of like it.”

 

Squidward turned to see a woman lounging in the chair next him. She appeared to be some kind of cephalopod, but he couldn’t tell what kind. She was dressed fairly plainly, wearing a long black skirt and a dark green sweater that looked at least two sizes too big. Her hair was wild, black and unkempt, and it draped over her shoulders in messy curls. He noticed her features, which were sharp and intense. Her voice didn’t seem to match her face.

 

Squidward stared at her for a moment before turning away to scoff. “You actually like this place?”

 

The woman shrugged, her gaze seeming to be firmly planted on the tray of sugar packets and creamer sitting on the table across the room. “It feels.. safe, I guess. Or maybe I’m just used it to it by now.”

 

Squidward’s first instinct was to resort to sarcasm, but something about that far off look in her eyes made him hold back. He looked at her again, hesitating before he asked, “So.. uh, how long have you been here?”

 

She still didn’t look at him, but let out a quiet sigh. “I’ve been in and out of here for years. You could say I’m a regular.”

 

Squidward’s tentacles subtly tightened around the fragile cup. This was only his first day, and already it was driving him mad. The thought of years, stuck in a place like this, it wasn’t easy to stomach.

 

“Years?” he repeated in a whisper that he hadn’t meant to say out loud. “Sorry,” he muttered, shifting awkwardly in his chair.

 

She didn’t say a word in response, her face was entirely blank, eyes still glued forward. Squidward wasn’t sure if she was offended, or maybe just a little strange, and he wasn’t sure which he would prefer.

 

“Do you.. want me to grab you a coffee or something?” he asked, hoping that would somehow make up for his lack of social grace.

 

She shook her head. “No, that’s okay,” she said before finally turning to look at him. “Thank you though, you’re kind.” Her eyes were crimson like his, and the soft smile she gave him made her features seem less harsh for a moment.

 

So far, it was the first smile he’d seen, but he didn’t have the energy to return it. He wasn’t here to make friends anyway. “I’m really not. But you’re welcome, I guess.”

 

Before the woman could respond, the door creaked open. The scattered conversation from the patients faded into an uncomfortable silence as a large sturgeon entered the room. His presence was commanding, and instinctively Squidward straightened his posture.

 

The sturgeon smoothed his suit, adjusting  his glasses as he surveyed the room. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted as he made his way to the front of the room. His voice was gruff and it carried a faint accent.

 

“I see we have some new faces,” he said, his eyes settling on Squidward for a split second before he continued. “And some old.”

 

From the corner of his eye, Squidward noticed the peculiar woman seated next to him squirm at the comment. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, her dark hair falling over her face like disheveled curtains. Squidward felt a flicker of something, empathy maybe, but he quickly tucked into the back of his mind for later.

 

“For our newcomers, I would like to introduce myself. I am Dr. Stergov, I will be leading you in group therapy.”

 

Dr. Stergov promptly pulled up a chair to the loose circle of mismatched furniture that had formed. He seated himself, crossing one leg over the other. “So. Who would like to start?”

 

A nervous shrimp suddenly sprang up, his tiny hands fidgeting wildly as he prepared himself to speak.

 

Dr. Stergov held up a fin. “Francis, we’ve been over this before. You may remain seated.”

 

Francis sunk back down into his chair, sighing discontentedly as he began to bounce his leg rapidly. But after a brief moment of silence, he blurted out, “It’s too much food.”

 

Dr. Stergov leaned forward slightly, looking at him intently. “And what makes you say that?”

 

“I’m so full!” Francis cried, burying his face in his hands. “And then you expect me, to what? Sit here, letting all this weight pile on. I can’t take it anymore!”

 

Dr. Stergov remained composed. “Francis, part of recovery is letting yourself become comfortable with being uncomfortable. I know it’s hard, but this is crucial.”

 

Squidward watched Francis, the way his hands wrung together, the way his tiny black eyes darted around the room desperately. The shrimp’s anxious energy was contagious, and Squidward felt himself tremble in response.

 

Francis’ gaze began to travel to the floor, and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly. He didn’t say anything, but nodded almost imperceptibly.

 

Dr. Stergov thanked Francis before turning his attention to the rest of the group. “Would anyone else like to share their thoughts on this?”

 

The question was met with silence, and most of the group avoided eye contact like the plague. Squidward wondered if it was always like this, so tense. He felt Dr. Stergov’s eyes linger on him again, and he knew someone needed to speak. But there was no way he was going to be that someone, not today.

 

Suddenly the woman cleared her throat, lifting her head to look at Francis. “I know how you feel, it’s too much,” she said gently. “And then, on the other hand. It’s never enough.”

 

Dr. Stergov furrowed his brow slightly as he listened. “What do you mean by that, Squidlana? Never enough?”

 

Squidlana exhaled through her nose, her eyes beginning to wander elsewhere. “When you eat, it’s too much. When you don’t, it’s never enough.”

 

Francis looked at her and then down again before mumbling something incoherent to himself.

 

“And how have you been coping with this?” Dr. Stergov asked, folding his fins in his lap.

 

“Well, I haven’t been coping, not really. I guess that’s why I’m here again.”

 

Dr. Stergov’s expression softened slightly. “There’s no shame in it, you know. Recovery is not linear, and it requires a great deal of persistence.”

 

A few patients nodded their heads in agreement, while some remained stone faced and detached. Squidlana just sat there, twisting a loose thread on her sleeve. His words didn’t really sink in, she had heard it all before.

 

The session dragged on and Squidward stared at the clock, trying to tune most of it out. It had quickly devolved into various patients airing their grievances, which were mostly just complaints about the food. The was a hint of tension on Dr. Stergov’s face as he unsuccessfully tried to steer the conversations to something more constructive. Somehow he managed to remain patient despite this.

 

Finally, the hour was almost up. Squidward let himself relax a bit as he sunk deeper into the hideous floral print armchair. His coffee was now ice cold and he leaned over, setting it down on the table in front of him. Much to his dismay, the movement caught Dr. Stergov’s attention.

 

Dr. Stergov motioned toward him abruptly. “Newcomer. We haven’t heard from you yet. What is your name?”

 

Startled, Squidward straightened up again. “Who? Me?”

 

“Yes. You.”

 

Suddenly aware of the fact that all eyes were on him, he swallowed hard. “Oh, uh. Squidward Tentacles.”

 

Dr. Stergov crossed his arms, studying him carefully. “And tell me, Squidward. How do you feel being thrust into all this chaos?”

 

Squidward exhaled sharply, pausing a moment before answering, “I really don’t know. I’m not sure what to say.”

 

There was a pufferfish across from him, she offered him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. First days always feel a little strange.”

 

Squidward nodded. That’s one way to put it.

 

Dr. Stergov’s stoic expression remained unchanged, but speaking again his voice seemed to take on a more gentle quality. “Uncertainty. It’s to be expected here. You’re in a foreign environment, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, discussing things that most would rather keep private. It’s not easy by any means.”

 

Squidward forced a half smile, he still didn’t know what to say.

 

“Squidward, what do you hope to gain from being here?”

 

Squidward hesitated, he glanced down at his lap. “I.. still don’t know what to say. I think I just want things to go back to normal.”

 

Dr. Stergov drew a deep breath. “I won’t sugar coat things,” he said, now seeming to address the whole group. “You will never be the same person you were before your eating disorder. It’s the nature of these illnesses.”

 

Squidward’s mouth hung upon slightly, it wasn’t the response he expected. Suddenly his chest felt hollow.

 

“If you think you will be same again, then you will never recover. This place will become a revolving door for you. You must let go of who you once were. Who you once were is the person who led you down this path in the first place.”

 

His words were met with skeptical glances. Some patients whispered inaudibly to one another, while others looked away in shame.

 

Dr. Stergov sighed, aware of the fact that more than few nerves had been struck. He stood up from his chair slowly. “I don’t tell you this to cause despair, or blame you for your disorder.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “But it is your responsibility to address your trauma. To uncover the pain which you have masked with your disordered behaviors.”

 

This wasn’t going at all as Squidward had expected. He could already tell that wasn’t just going to be an “eat and get out” kind of situation, it was deeper than that. And it was going to hurt.

 

 

 

Chapter 37

As the session ended the room began to stir. Many of the patients lingered, idly chatting away with one another as they refilled their cups of coffee. After Squidward saw Dr. Stergov leave the room he swiftly stood up, eager to make his escape.

 

He discreetly slipped out the door, heading straight for the men’s ward. The hospital was huge, the halls seemed to stretch endlessly. It made the journey feel excessively long, but he didn’t really mind it. At the very least, it was an opportunity to clear his mind before being faced with his next meal. Breakfast had been a struggle, although he had been surprised to find that the quality of the food was actually decent. Fluffy scrambled eggs, soft and light, paired with two strips of perfectly cooked bacon. A small cup of fresh fruit, appearing vibrant against the back drop of the muted cafeteria walls. Beside it sat a blueberry muffin, the edges golden brown. He didn’t eat the muffin.

 

After making his way through the maze he found himself at the threshold. He looked up at the sign above the metal door reading, MEN’S WARD in bold black lettering. He reached for the handle but stopped as he heard the sound of suction cups behind him. He spun around rather frantically, it was her again.

 

Squidward narrowed his eyes at her, perhaps a bit harsher than was actually warranted. “How long have you been following me?” he asked, propping his tentacles on his hips.

 

Squidlana flinched at the sudden confrontation. Her body went rigid and she froze for a moment before answering, “Oh! I.. well, I guess the whole time?” she stammered, taking a step back.

 

Squidward arched an eyebrow. “Care to explain?”

 

She tilted her head, her large eyes observing him curiously. “Do you smoke?”

 

Squidward scoffed reflexively, turning his nose up at her as if she were his inferior. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

 

Squidlana looked down, her face flushing as she covered it in shame. “I-I’m sorry, I just wanted to let you know there’s a smoke porch. If you wanted.. oh, never mind.”

 

She turned around abruptly as she hurried off, her black skirt trailing behind her like a shadow. Squidward groaned, cursing himself for himself for being so instinctively abrasive.

 

Squidward quickly lifted a tentacle in the air. “Wait!” he called out, his voice echoing through the otherwise empty corridor.

 

She stopped, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Squidward said, approaching her slowly. “Im not the easiest guy to get along with, and today..”

 

Squidlana cut him off, shrugging nonchalantly. “I get it. It’s not an easy transition. On my first day I punched a nurse, if that makes you feel any better.”

 

Squidward paused, looking taken aback before asking, “Seriously? You uh, don’t look like the type. And they just let you stay?

 

Squidlana nodded enthusiastically, grinning ear to ear. “Yep!” Her smile revealed teeth that were slightly jagged, adding to her unpolished appearance. Strangely, this made Squidward feel at ease.

 

Squidward let his arms relax and chuckled softly. “I guess I can’t blame you. They do seem to be intrusive.”

 

Squidward’s casual comment seemed to light a fire in her eyes. “Oh, intrusive? That’s barely scratching the surface! The poking the, prodding, the.. tubes,” she said, flailing her tentacles about as if she were delivering some grand speech. Her expressions became more and more animated, and with that, the gentleness of her voice seemed to evaporate. “You know, the only reason I hit her was because she wouldn’t stop touching me. I had already told her I hadn’t been purging. But do these people ever listen? No! And then she just grabbed me, inspecting me like I was some specimen in a lab. It was totally violating! I can’t believe th-“

 

Suddenly a wave of self awareness came crashing down on Squidlana, who had now stopped speaking. Squidward looked at her, puzzled, waiting for her to finish the story.

 

She smoothed our her sweater nervously, trying to rain herself in. “Sorry! I should let you go. It’s almost time for lunch.”

 

“Right, yeah. See you around.” He kept his tone flat, disinterested, despite the subtle flicker of curiosity he felt. He wasn’t sure what to think, he seemed to always attract the strange ones. SpongeBob and Squilliam’s eccentricities were enough to deal with, thoroughly exhausting. 

 

Squidlana nodded curtly before turning and walking off. Squidward watched her go again, his jaw clenching as he internally debated whether or not to say anything else. “By the way, I do smoke.”

 

She paused mid step, glancing back at him again, and without a word she gave him another nod before disappearing around the corner.

 

*********************************

 

A sharp clang echoed through the cafeteria as Squidward slammed the tray down harder than he intended. He glanced around, suddenly feeling self conscious, but everyone else appeared too engrossed in their own food to pay him any mind. He let out a long sigh as he shifted his attention back to to the tray. The meal consisted of a simple chicken breast, a scoop of mashed potatoes and completed with a side of kelp. It was undoubtedly boring this time, but not nearly as daunting as he imagined.

 

He began pushing the food around with his fork, taking a bite here and there, but mostly he just wanted to savor the solitude while he had the chance. He was anticipating one of the therapists to check in on him, they tended to do that here, or so he heard. Or maybe, Squidlana had more plans to pester him about his personal habits. But when he thought he was in the clear, a familiar voice made his ears perk up.

 

“Squiddy!”

 

Seized with immediate dread, Squidward froze mid chew. He turned slowly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of Squilliam, standing in the doorway like he owned the place.

 

Squidward’s eye twitched as he watched Squilliam approach, sliding gracefully into the seat across from him. “What are you doing, Squilliam? You can’t just walk in here! There are specific visiting h-“

 

“Oh hush now, I pulled a couple of strings.”

 

Squidward pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated sigh. “Of course you did.” He looked up at Squilliam again, who looked entirely out of place in a setting like this. “This is a hospital, not one of your exclusive night clubs. You know that, right?”

 

With a look of amusement Squilliam leaned in a little closer toward Squidward. “Is this anyway to treat your generous benefactor?” He had that stupid sly smile plastered on his face, the one that never failed to test Squidward’s patience.

 

Squidward knew it was a joke, but still, he felt a prick of guilt. “I guess you have a point,” he mumbled, looking in any direction but Squilliam’s.

 

Squilliam pulled back and let out a dramatic sigh. “Anyway, I just thought I’d drop by to see if my money was being well spent.”

 

Unable to contain his frustration, Squidward narrowed his eyes at him. “It hasn’t even been a full day Squilliam!” He blurted out, this time drawing prying eyes from across the room. “Why are you like this?” he growled, now lowering his voice to nearly a whisper.

 

Squilliam held up his tentacles, feigning innocence, albeit poorly. “Like what?”

 

“Dramatic. Intrusive.”

 

Squidward wanted to go on, but he bit his tongue. Instead he watched as Squilliam slowly rested a tentacle under his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. He looked uncharacteristically genuine in that moment, as if he truly sought to unlock the inner workings of his own psyche.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his brow furrowed just enough to look sincere. Squidward could never truly tell though, not with Squilliam.

 

“Wow. Profound.”

 

The corners of Squilliam’s lips were upturned slightly, the faintest smirk. “It’s a gift, really,” he replied with a shrug.

 

Squidward knew he should feel grateful, that he should at least maintain some semblance of civility. But Squilliam made it painfully difficult, his intentions were never clear, and every conversation left Squidward increasingly confused.

 

Squidward finally dropped the fork he had been clutching to like it was some kind of lifeline. It clattered on the table, causing Squilliam to jump. “Can you just tell me the reason you’re here? The real reason.” There was no more anger in his voice, simply a quiet resignation.

 

Squilliam’s smirk faltered. “I just came to check on you. That’s all,” he said quietly.

 

Squidward eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but then his gaze began to soften. “Oh. Well.. thanks, I guess.”

 

Squilliam looked at him expectantly, as it silently urging him to bare his soul. “Well, as you can see I’m alive, I’m.. eating,” Squidward replied, his eyes wandering to his tray.

 

Squilliam raised an eyebrow, noticing the tray of food, smeared around and merely picked at. “Eating? It doesn’t look like it. It looks more like one of your abstract art pieces.”

 

Squidward gritted his teeth, trying to prevent Squilliam from getting under his skin too deeply. He had a knack for that, even when he wasn’t deliberately trying.“Well you’re not exactly making it easy for me. I don’t like being watched, especially by you.”

 

Squilliam appeared annoyed at the comment, he straightened his posture and scoffed bitterly. “And why not? I’ve seen you eat plenty of times. Do you think I’m judging you?”

 

“I don’t know, are you?”

 

“Not in the way you think.”

 

Typical, Squidward thought. He had no idea what that was supposed to mean but he didn’t have the energy to engage anymore. Carefully, he picked up his fork, beginning to take small bites as he tried his best to pretend like Squilliam wasn’t there.

 

A satisfied smile traveled across Squilliam’s face. “That’s the spirit,” he said, now rising to his feet. “Very well, I’ll be on my way then.”

 

Squidward grabbed a knife, beginning to aggressively cut into the chicken breast he had been neglecting. He smirked slightly, but didn’t look up. “Leaving so soon?”

 

Somehow, Squilliam didn’t pick up on the sarcasm and moved closer him, tenderly resting a tentacle on Squidward’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Squiddy. I’ll be back to check in.”

 

Squidward shifted away from his touch. “Take your time.” His tone was neutral, but Squilliam still felt the bite.

 

This time there was no itch to have the last word. Squilliam cleared his throat and headed straight for the exit. Squidward watched him as he left, the way the door swung open and he gripped the doorframe, lingering just for just a moment. It almost looked like he was going to turn back, but he didn’t. Squidward’s eyes darted away and he swallowed hard, trying to ease the tightness in his throat.

 

As Squidward sat alone the cafeteria buzzed around him, hushed conversations, silverware clinking, and even some faint sobs could be heard. How could anyone recover in a place like this? He thought to himself. Unable to ignore the crying, his eyes scanned the room. There was a fish in the corner, a girl, hunched over her tray of food. Another patient had their arm wrapped around her, whispering words of encouragement. The girl looked young, too young to be there. His heart began to feel like it was falling to pieces in his chest and he wondered when it was, that he had become so soft.

 

Coming into this he thought his sole adversary was simply food, but there was so much more to wrestle with. Unwanted, yet inescapable faces from the past, the baggage of others, and most importantly himself.

Chapter 38

Notes:

So I’ve been re-reading this story, and man.. a lot of the earlier chapters are really painful to read, so much melodrama and clunky writing.

I think thankfully my writing has improved since I started this story, but I just wanted to give a quick thank you to everyone who powered through some of the cringe. I really appreciate y’all ❤️

The week had crawled by for SpongeBob, who had practically been counting the seconds until he could visit Squidward. Setting his mind on other things was impossible, especially with his job at the Krusty Krab being out of the equation.

 

Patrick had tried to keep him grounded. He was certain that all SpongeBob needed was a trip to Goofy Goober’s to distract him. Normally, SpongeBob would be up for it. But now, the thought of drowning his sorrows in ice cream didn’t hold the same appeal. If he had learned anything from all of this, it was that no amount of food (or lack thereof) was ever going to fix what was broken.

 

It had been the third time today that SpongeBob had to turn his friend away, and it was becoming exhausting. It’s not that he didn’t want to be around Patrick. The problem was that Patrick didn’t understand that he didn’t need a dopamine rush, he needed someone to be there with him.

 

After closing the door with a tired sigh he wandered off to his kitchen and seated himself at the table. He picked up the newspaper in front of him, skimming the classifieds as he sipped from his long forgotten cup of coffee. It didn’t take long for him to realize it was pointless and he snapped it shut. This was becoming a pattern.

 

With a flick of his wrist he carelessly tossed the paper aside and slumped forward burying his face in his hands. Then he heard it, again.

 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

 

SpongeBob flinched, startled at first, but then his cheeks began to burn with frustration. “Patrick, I already said no!” he called out.

 

A muffled voice female answered, “SpongeBob! It’s me! Open up!”

 

SpongeBob’s face lit up with recognition. “Pearl?” he said under his breath.

 

“SpongeBob, please!”

 

SpongeBob hesitated, wondering if he should simply ignore her, he had free will after all. But no, that would fly in the face of his good nature, wouldn’t it?

 

SpongeBob took a deep breath as he rose from his chair. “Coming! Just a minute.”

 

The door creaked open slowly, SpongeBob’s fingers lingering on the doorframe as he peeked out.

 

Pearl rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, SpongeBob. He’s not with me,” she said, lowering her head to step through the doorway.

 

Looking a little sheepish, SpongeBob cleared his throat and stepped back to let her pass. “Right. Sorry, Pearl.”

 

Before SpongeBob could offer her a seat she spun around and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Sponge. I can’t take this anymore! You have to come back!”

 

“Pearl, it’s not that simple.”

 

“You don’t understand, SpongeBob. Daddy has totally lost it. Drinking at work, yelling all the time. Plus, I have no social life anymore! Do you know what this is going to do to my reputation?”

 

“I’m sorry. I really am, but I don’t know if I can,” he said, gently removing her fins from his shoulders. “This is all becoming too much.”

 

Pearl groaned, crossing her arms as she paced anxiously around the living room. “Look, I know my dad is a jerk sometimes. Well, most of the time. And yeah he’s cheap, and stubborn, but you’re, like, the only one that keeps everything from falling apart!”

 

SpongeBob fidgeted with his tie, trying to look anywhere but at her.

 

Pearl stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. “Will you talk to him? Please?” she said, her voice becoming quieter.

 

“Uh, last time it didn’t-“

 

“He was drunk, I know. But, please, give him another chance.”

 

SpongeBob paused, his mind wandering back to Squidward’s parting request.

 

“Patch things up with Mr. Krabs.”

 

SpongeBob groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay… I’ll talk to him.”

 

Without hesitation, Pearl scooped him up into her arms. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squealed, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “I totally owe you one, SpongeBob!”

 

Pearl set him down a little too quickly as she headed for the door, nearly forgetting to duck on her way out. He smiled stiffly as he watched her leave, and when the door slammed shut the sudden emptiness made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

 

SpongeBob tried to take a deep breath, but it felt incomplete. “I need to get out of here,” he whispered to himself, tugging at his shirt collar desperately.

 

He looked to the clock, there was still a couple hours until he was supposed to be at the treatment center. He was planning on taking the bus, but if he walked he could be there around the time they were supposed to meet.

 

He rushed to the door, and then froze mid-step realizing he had almost forgotten the little pot of begonias he had purchased for the occasion. He hoped these would cheer Squidward up, especially considering how many times he had ruined his garden.

 

As he stepped outside, the cool ocean current seemed to ease the tension in his chest. He took another breath and let his surroundings pass him in a blur.  Normally, he would greet every passerby, stop to admire every flower, but all he could do was keep his eyes fixed forward.

 

He arrived early and seated himself in the empty lobby, the begonias resting carefully on his knees. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic hissing of a coffee pot tucked in the corner. SpongeBob glanced around nervously, unsure if he was in the right area.

 

After a few minutes a nurse entered the lobby, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto SpongeBob. In an instant, she was towering over him. “Sir, those are going to need to be inspected,” she said, snatching the flowers from his lap.

 

Before he could protest she yanked the plant from its soil roughly. She inspected the dangling roots, muttering something under her breath about “contraband” as SpongeBob watched in horror.

 

Soil spilled over the sides as she finally shoved the begonias back into the pot. “Looks like you’re clean,” she said as she handed them back to him.

 

SpongeBob’s shoulders slumped as he looked at the disheveled mess on his lap. “Clean..?”

 

She furrowed her brow as she watched SpongeBob try to salvage what was left of the begonias. “You’d be surprised at what people try to sneak in here,” she said, pulling off her gloves with a snap and tossing them aside. “Now, who are you here to see?”

 

Dreading the thought of bursting into tears, SpongeBob avoided her gaze. “Uh… Squidward Tentacles,” he answered, continuing to pat the soil back around the stems.

 

She looked down at her clipboard. “Right. Follow me,” she said, waving him through a set of double doors.

 

Still clutching what was left of the begonias, he followed behind her obediently.

 

Soon they arrived at a large, sunlit common room with a few patients scattered about. Most were quietly talking amongst themselves, while others sat alone flipping through old magazines. There was a heavy feeling that was almost palpable, even the natural lighting couldn’t seem to lift it.

 

As SpongeBob made his way across the room he felt a rush of nervousness as he noticed that every pair of eyes in the room was following his bright yellow form. His palms began to sweat, and he hugged the flowers tightly to himself. Get a hold of yourself, you’re falling apart, he thought, forcing himself to look away. Then, in the corner, he spotted him.

 

Curled up in an armchair, staring vacantly  out the window was Squidward. He looked about the same, frail as ever, but now with a bit more color.

 

Noticing his friend’s presence, his eyes slowly shifted from the glass to SpongeBob.

 

SpongeBob faltered. He lingered in place for a moment, as if waiting for permission to approach.

 

Squidward blinked, then straightened in his chair. His expression suddenly looked lighter than usual, one brow raised ever so slightly. He didn’t speak right away, but then he smiled. “Well,” he said finally, “Are you just going to stand there?”

 

Relief swamped SpongeBob at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Squidward,” he said quietly as he shuffled forward.

 

“I uh.. brought these for you” he said, extending the mangled flowers to Squidward. “You know, since I wrecked your garden that one time.”

 

“It’s been more than once,” Squidward answered, carefully taking the pot from SpongeBob’s trembling hands.

 

SpongeBob laughed awkwardly, his cheeks becoming a faint pink. “Yeah.. sorry about that,” he said as he took a seat in the chair next to him.

 

Squidward eyed the begonias curiously. “Let me guess, Patrick sat on them?”

 

“No, no! It was the nurse. She said something about.. contraband?”

 

Squidward toyed with the bent stems. “Bootleg begonias, now that would be quite a scandal indeed,” he said with a smirk before placing the pot on the little table next to him. “Thanks…”

 

SpongeBob smiled at him crookedly. “Of course,” he answered, giving a quick nod. “So, how are you doing? What’s it like being here?”

 

“Well it’s not exactly paradise,” he said with a shrug. “It’s quiet, too quiet.”

 

“I always thought you liked quiet.”

 

“This is a different kind of quiet, SpongeBob. I can’t escape my thoughts, my feelings,” he said with disdain. “But I suppose that’s the point of all of this, isn’t it?”

 

Squidward waited for a response but SpongeBob just shifted in his chair. There was some far off look on that usually bright face, as if he were only half present.

 

“Are you even listening to me?”

 

SpongeBob immediately perked up. “What? Yes, of course! I just.. was thinking. About how lonely you must be.”

 

Squidward gave a bitter little huff as he looked him up and down. “What’s wrong with you today? I half expected you to come in here and cling to me like a barnacle.”

 

“Oh I’m fine, really!” SpongeBob answered a little too enthusiastically. “Just a bit tired. Gary kept me up all night practicing his new stand up routine. You know how snails are,” he chuckled, nudging Squidward playfully with his elbow.

 

“Right..” Squidward muttered as he turned to look out the window again.

 

SpongeBob tilted his head. “Well, have you made any friends?”

 

Squidward scoffed. “Not interested.”

 

“Why not? Everyone needs friends. The more the merrier, right?”

 

Squidward looked at him from the corner of his eye. “I already have you, SpongeBob. That’s plenty.”

 

SpongeBob’s face brightened up at the sentiment, and for a moment he felt like his heart might burst, but then, his smile wavered. “Gee Squidward, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he said, beginning to fidget with his hands. “But.. I think you deserve more than me.”

 

Squidward finally turned to look at him, his lips curving into a kind of half smile, an expression that SpongeBob couldn’t quite place.

 

There was a long pause, and then Squidward spoke again but this time it came out softer. “What’s really going on with you, Sponge?”

 

SpongeBob’s posture became rigid, and he drew a sharp breath, as if the question had physically struck him. “W-what do you mean?” he asked, his voice cracking.

 

Squidward furrowed his brow. “I think that’s a pretty straight forward question.”

 

SpongeBob’s eyes widened subtly, his breath hitching for the second time. “I’m fine.” His fists clenched so tightly they were turning white. “Like I said, just tired.”

 

“Are you sure about that?”

 

“Of course!”

 

Squidward looked at him sympathetically and leaning in close he whispered, “You don’t have to lie to me. You should know this by now.”

 

SpongeBob shook his head. “I’m supposed to be here to comfort you, not the other way around.”

 

Squidward reached out, placing his tentacle over SpongeBob’s hand. “It’s fine. Really.”

 

Despite SpongeBob’s best efforts a tear slipped down his cheek. “I don’t know how to do all of this. I feel like I have to fix everything and I don’t know if I can. This whole thing with Mr. Krabs and I’m being stretched so thin and Pearl is-“

 

Squidward cut him off. “Listen to me,” he said, giving SpongeBob’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to fix everything.”

 

“But I thought you wanted me to work things out with Mr. Krabs?”

 

“I did, I do. But not because I think Eugene deserves it, he’s an insufferable cheapskate and always will be, there’s no fixing that. But the Krusty Krab is where you belong. And I just don’t want-“ Squidward stopped, feeling like he might choke on his own words.

 

“Don’t want what?”

 

“I don’t want you to end up like me. A bitter, misanthropic mess.”

 

“You’re not-“

 

“I am.”

 

SpongeBob frowned. “Well, what do I do then?”

 

“You do what you can. The rest is.. out of your control,” Squidward said, his grip on SpongeBob’s hand loosening. “And yes, I know I’m being a hypocrite.”

 

SpongeBob smiled through his tears. “You’re not a hypocrite, Squidward. If you were, you wouldn’t be here.”

 

Squidward leaned back in his chair, letting SpongeBob’s hand go at last. He looked up, letting himself become lost in the pattern of squares on the ceiling.

 

After a moment, he let out a low hum as if carefully weighing the merit of SpongeBob’s words. “Maybe you’re right, or maybe I’m just desperate. Either way, try not to make the same mistake.”