Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was Autumn in Bikini Bottom.

No one really liked Autumn in Bikini Bottom—except for  pumpkin farmers .

Which made Mr. Krabs have the brilliant idea of making Pumpkin-Fries the brand new Krusty Krabs’ Autumn special. But since Autumn is a time when many  many  people look for pumpkins to buy, the price obviously skyrocketed. 

So, he turned to look for old domestic-farming couples with more affordable goods to buy.

That’s when things started to go  downright bizarre .

“Oh, my parents have a pumpkin farm!” Said SpongeBob.

It in itself was already surprising. Something Squidward got really stunned by knowing. SpongeBob didn’t seem like the kind of a guy that was raised on a farm, or that is a farmer's son. 

But again, neither did Squidward look like his family was anything but  Jewish .

And of course, Mr. Krabs wouldn’t lose the opportunity to buy pumpkins with a high discount because it was from Ms. and Mr. Squarepants’ land.

Squidward had seen SpongeBob’s parents before, once or twice, but they never  talked .

So, when they came, on a Sunday morning, with many many pumpkins on a farm cart—he left this safe zone near the cash register and went outside to receive it.

Mr. Squarepants had already been paid the right amount and Squidward was instructed to just take the pumpkins and put them all in the kitchen.

“Hello, good man!” Exclaimed Harold, smiling. “At last we met again, it's been almost a year!” He laughed, sympathetically. Taking one of the pumpkins and helping him. “How's the shoulder?”

Squidward halted in surprise, adjusting two of the winter squash in his tentacles, and looked over a shoulder to check Mr. Squarepants following right behind.

He had no idea how that man knew about his shoulder since few did - but he suspected it was nothing more than gossip on the part of his son, the chatterbox. 

Don't get him wrong, he loves gossip too but why does SpongeBob keep talking about these details of his life to others? Especially his parents? That was just  too  weird.

“Stopped aching, so I’m healthy enough, I guess.” He replied politely to engage in the harmless conversation.

At least he thought it was harmless.

“A healthy stomach is a healthy body!” Harold said, cheerfully in his old-aged way. The crow's feet showing in the corner of the glasses. “I bet you are eating well. The love of cooking has its benefits, right?”

Squidward noticed something slightly off with the ‘you’ in that sentence. Mainly because it sounded like that old sponge was talking about a third person.

Still, he just nodded his head, slowly, shrugging.

Once they reached the kitchen, Squidward dropped the pumpkins so he could open the fridge and rolled them inside—it was Spongebob’s responsibility, not  his .

He took the pumpkin from Harold’s arms and threw it inside as well. Closing the fridge with a loud noise.

The old sponge placed his tiny hands on his hips and sent him a happy smile. He looked a lot like a very proud dad.

“I know I haven’t said anything before but I just want you to know I’m really happy for you.”

That entire sentence was off. Waaaaay too suspicious. The ‘you’ sounded weirdly like a  plural .

Why  was he saying that?

“ Thanks? ” He dragged the word as a groan, grumpy like usual but with a high discomfort behind it. 

That old man must have gone senile. Old people usually do. He’s pretty sure his father had gone as well because he hadn't called in more than two months to check on him.

Most nights when he remembers it—the memory saddens him.

For the sake of his health, Squid decided to avert eye contact with Harold, and went back to the truck - there still were a few more pumpkins to take out.

Thankfully (or not) once they got back SpongeBob was talking to his mother on the side of the truck with The Krusty Krabs’ shopping basket in hands (Yes, all restaurants have their own shopping basket since the municipal market decided to abolish the use of plastic bags because of the problems that came long with savage sea turtle attacks)

“Oh, hi dad! hi Squidward!” He waved excitedly, smiling. “Sorry, I’m late! I had to stop by the market before we opened.” It was completely useless to explain since they all knew it, but that’s Spongebob for you. “Still want help with that?” He offered, looking at the trunk and at the pumpkin still stocked there.

Squidward waved a tentacle in the air, taking two of the squashes and pilling them.

“Nope.” He grumbled, picking them and going back inside. Leaving all the three sponges outside so he could finish his job in peace and without thinking about whatever  that  conversation was.

Truth be told, he wasn't a very sociable guy. He was selfish and could hardly get along with anyone. He was not polite and—because of personal problems with his parents—he was rarely courteous to other people's parents.

But for some reason he couldn't explain, the parents of that annoying yellow sponge found him extremely friendly and well-mannered. Whenever SpongeBob received a box of fruit and vegetables that his parents had picked from the garden, his mother (Margaret) always included some extra canned shrimp and fresh seaweed for him.

— Because we are neighbors! — Spongebob would say, probably shrugging off.

“It’s too  thoughtful . We aren’t even that close!” He would try to argue over the phone. He had come home and seen the basket on his table in the kitchen (Yes, SpongeBob has a copy of his house keys for emergencies and when he tried taking them back he had already made thousands of copies. It was  his  own mistake in the first place, really.)

— Oh, Squidy! Relax, silly. It isn’t a big deal, they are just presents! — He’d reply. Usually. Sometimes for different reasons.

He would look at the inside of the basket of goods and find at least five things he really likes, and then he’d give up.

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

— Great! By the way, my mom wants your feedback on the shrimp. She said they are homemade-seasoning, Oh! And--

Sure, from that moment onwards some things in the conversation would change but not too much and Squid would end his evening having the best meal of the entire week with SpongeBob on the line, chattering and making comments about the cephalopod's poor cooking skills.

The weeks go by. Children grow and adults age.

And Squidward will never understand why the hell Sandy still lives in that sunken city. And not only does she live, but she also seemed to be constantly building a nefarious plan to be  mayor  of this place.

“Care to join our charity event this Tuesday?” She asked, handing him a flyer. “We’ll be litter-picking on the field of jellyfish.” She explained.

He barely raised an eyebrow above his half lid tired eyes.

“ Why ?” He asked.

Sandy took a deep breath in already preparing herself for the long explanation about environmental management and helping jellyfishes during the mating season, but then she saw Squidward's face and realized with  who  she was talking to—she let the air all out in a sigh, shoulders lowering.

“Political campaign.”

Squidward nodded his head.

“Thanks for the honesty, but  no .” He replied, going back to read the newspaper.

“Would it help if I say I need the field  clean  to run monitoring probes to catalog earthquakes?” She tried again, the flayer in her hand swaying in the air as she gestured aimlessly.

“Not at all.”

“We’ll be giving people free parking tickets for a  month .” She lowered her eyelids preparing for her ace up the sleeve.

“I don’t even have a  boat .” He snorted, adjusting the newspaper.

“Spongebob has.” She said, grinning.

Squidward frowned at her, not understanding it.

“So what?” He asked.

Sandy placed the flayer in the cash register.

“He’s been crying for the last five days because he can’t attend, and he would  die  to have those tickets.” She explained, still grinning using her ace card.

Squidward sent her a nasty look, the newspaper denting in between them because of gravity and comic-relief power.

“And why can’t  Patrick  do that for him?”

The machiavellian squirrel shrugged with that nightmarish grin on her lips.

“He is unable to enroll for voting.” The words seemed to be more terrifying than they should be considering it was technically a benefit for society.

Squidward rolled his eyes, annoyed.

“ Fine , charity it is.” He sarcastically cheered, adjusting the newspaper again.

With the tickets, he can at least bribe SpongeBob to get off his personal space for the next full month.

Litter-picking on jellyfish fields doesn’t sound like a fun activity, does it?

And you are right.

It  isn’t .

“Oh, cheer up!” Harold tapped into his back with a little bit of force. They were near a cluster of rocks where there was a suspicious amount of metal plates and electrical wiring. (He would have suspected Plankton if he didn't know for a fact the little green marine drifter doesn't leave litter because he recycles most of his stuff.) “Doing it for a better future, right?”

Either the gentleness, animation, and affection of the sponges are common to the species as a whole, or Squidward could already guess who SpongeBob took after.

That old gentleman was undeniably energetic despite his age, he seemed to have been a great father—although the cephalopod doesn't have a very good role model to compare. Either way, he bet Mr. Harold Squarepants did the best he could do to raise his son, and that was admirable.

Especially with a guy as annoying and hyperactive as SpongeBob.

Squidward didn't know that he would also participate in Sandy’s charity event. Not that it made much difference on what he had promised or anything - he’s into it for the parking tickets, after all. He’s going to use it to buy him some peace. The entirety of thirty days without SpongeBob's nonsense. Almost a blissful vacation.

“So how's practice going for the spring recital?” Asked Harold to Squidward, and the younger adult looked at him with widened eyes.

He seemed unconcerned, picking up the scraps of electrical wiring lying on the ground amidst the rocks. Squidward looked at him with incredible surprise, doubt, and uncertainty.

Was he trying to create some sort of issue between them or was he honestly asking out of interest in a friendly gesture?

What world was he living in, that his annoying neighbor's parents (the one who considers him one of their best friends but has a weirdly bromantic one-sided crush on him, and yes he knows it but ignores it) were treating him better than any relative of his that’s still alive?

His cousins didn't even remember his name. His uncles shunned his existence. And since he confessed to his father that he was dating another man (before the drama of the complete and permanent destruction of his heart), he was kicked out of the house and hasn't had much contact with his parents ever since.

So don't blame him for feeling suspicious about something. Don't blame him for feeling disconcerted and shy. Don't blame him for crying in the shower later remembering this event and devouring a dozen crab burgers for existential crisis and depression.

"Arh...  Good .” He replied, after a few seconds of blinking at the older sponge reaching for some electrical wirings between two rocks. “I'm playing every week to memorize the sheet music." His eyelids lowered as he got lost in his own thoughts.

He lied, as he did to everyone that asked. He hasn’t even been accepted to the spring festival’s music presentation. But still practices week after week, every free time he has, because whenever he closes his eyes and pretends he’s practicing to be part of the Bikini Bottom Orchestra it makes him feel the best. To be part of something. To be respected by many. By those that don't respect him. 

He had memorized the sheet just fine. Unfortunately, he’ll most probably never play it to the audience. But no one needs to know that. He can just lie a little bit more. Appearing to be a failure in front of others would not help him at all. He already gives himself enough reasons to feel bad about it.

He picked some of the heavy metal plates and stacked them sideways—sighing.

Squidward snorted a laugh. He’s a heck of a problematic guy, isn’t he?

“I think we’re done here,” Harold said, standing from his crouching position on the floor and cracking his back naturally from the excessive physical exertion against those aged muscles. “Great teamwork, son!” He cheered, tapping the younger adult's back.

The cephalopod gave him an unsettled look and a failed bark of a laugh. Shaking his head. A smile behind his long nose.

He took Mr. Squarepants’ black plastic bag over his shoulder together with his own and turned back to the start point.

“Then we should head back.” He said.

“Oh, you don’t need to--” Harold tried to say Squidward’s gentle gesture was unnecessary since the plastic bag was his, but right after taking a step forward he groaned about back pain again, putting a hand on his side. “Urgh.” He uttered in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m way too old for these activities.” He tried to laugh it out, making his white mustache wiggle.

Squidward just sent him a gentle knowing look, a playful grin on his lips.

“It's not age, Harold. It's field labor fatigue.” He offered a justification for the early exhaustion. “You must be harvesting too many pumpkins.”

Harold laughed out loud, pressing a hand on his belly. He gave the man just a few years older than his own son a thankful smile, the chicken feet showing on the corner of his glasses.

“You are a good man, Squidward.” He commented, once he was back on his feet and they started to walk back to where Sandy was to place, threw the plastic bags out, and retrieved the free parking tickets. “I’m so glad my son chose you.”

Squidward frowned at him, confused. Spongebob had chosen him for what exactly?

“ Pardon ?” He looked down at the old sponge walking beside him with a growing doubt. “Choose me for  what ?”

Harold sends him one of his old man’s tired smiles, sighing.

“Ever since he came out to us, I and his mother were very worried he'd suffer. But now he has really good friends and you in his life.” He said, seriously putting his heart out in the open. “We are so glad for this.”

Wow, that couple really cares a  lot  about their son.

Squidward felt a pang on his chest. SpongeBob must feel very loved, respected, and emotionally supported. He couldn't tell what that kind of feeling was like.

“Well, your son is kind of hard to deal with sometimes, but he's a good guy.” He replied with honesty. It’s not like he hated that guy's existence. He just wished he didn't have to put up with half the annoying, absurd things that happened in his life because of him. Like an insane, loud roommate.

They kept walking over the Jellyfish field, almost reaching the starting point, where some other people were waiting and talking.

Harold laughed at his reply.

“Yes, we are aware of how much work it takes to deal with him.” He pressed a hand on his belly again, chuckling. Then, he sighed again and looked at Squidward with a fond parental smile. “That's why we were concerned that he’d never find someone that treasures him as much as we do.”

The cephalopod halted suddenly and Harold had to turn around to look at him.

Squidward blinked his eyes. Why does he feel like Harold thinks he has something with  SpongeBob ?

He opened his mouth to ask but Sandy rushed to them, shouting.

“Fellows! Thanks for the hard work!” She shouted excitedly, clipboard in hand. She looked in a rush. “Please fill in the blanks and I’ll send the free-parking pass to your mailbox tomorrow or wait in the line to retrieve it.” Giving the clipboard to Harold, she took a step back to whisper to Squidward. “I think Patrick broke into your house, you better go there  asap .”

Squidward didn’t need to be told twice but if she was doing this to try to negotiate his vote, she would be in trouble.

“You bring me the tickets tomorrow, or I’m  suing  you!” He pointed a tentacle to her, squinting his eyes in a serious expression. He threw the plastic bag on the ground, grumbling. “I’m outta here.”

“What? Already?” Asked Harold a bit upset, but Squidward took a deep breath in and sent at least a polite farewell to the old man from over a shoulder.

“Nice meeting you again, Harold.” He said, waving.

“You too, son!” He shouted back, waving. Squidward was already running to his house but he could hear him clearly (although he chose not to reply). “Send a big hug to my champ!”

Squidward hated to cook. Sometimes he ventured into the kitchen, and when it rarely happened he still had to, in some of these cases, ask for help—and the only one who actually knew how to cook on his social circle was SpongeBob.

He's not the type of person who likes to ask others for help if there's no need, let alone help from his annoying neighbor, so the number of times I asked SpongeBob to help him could be counted on two hands at most.

However, when Squidward was diagnosed with early-onset diabetes predisposition, he was forced to control his eating before it further affected his physical and mental health. And that led to the need for a healthier diet.

And because he doesn't cook, his neighbor took the initiative to start cooking for him.

Squidward didn't like being treated like a dependent person, and the only reason he'd let that pesky yellow sponge cook him dinner three times a week was for three simple, basic, and unique reasons:

First, he didn't have to spend money buying any ingredients, because SpongeBob bought them all. He only came in with the kitchen, the gas, the utensils, and the drinks. Which made him save a lot of money last month and he liked having some extra to invest in other things.

Second, SpongeBob actually  behaved — which was a big improvement — and while he cooked, Squidward could rest, watch television or practice his clarinet. He also wasn't bothered with the exception of the occasional singing that he let out sporadically.

And third, because the food was really good.

But if it weren't for these reasons, he wouldn't share the dinner table with SpongeBob three times a week. Nor would he buy wine to drink with it—because somehow it tastes better this way.

He would find another way.

As he always did.

"He was probably looking for a hammer." SpongeBob explained his theory on the reason why Patrick invaded his house. Waving a hand around. Wholemeal noodles and sun-dried tomatoes sway in the air before he devours it.

He hummed a catchy tune that indicated it tasted as delicious as he planned it to be.

After letting Spongebob eat first to see if it was tasty or not, Squidward served himself a plate. (Even after months, with the many profs to confirm that that yellow sponge can indeed cook meals other than fast food, he still does it). 

Once he was told dinner was ready SpongeBob had already opened a bottle of red wine and served both of them (A thing he noticed after a while—SpongeBob's taste for alcohol). 

It  was  a great combination with the noodles, so he shrugged and enjoyed the meal.

"Why did he need a hammer?" He asked, looking sideways, trying to figure out if there was anything broken that he hadn't noticed before.

SpongeBob chuckled.

"He's trying to install a  skylight  on his rock." He said.

Squidward opened his mouth but froze on a silent question.

There were  so  many questions.

SpongeBob chuckled again, shrugging.

"Where did he get this ridiculous  idea  from?"

The yellow sponge thought about this for a second, sipping the wine.

"I think…" He started, humming. "On Tuesday, he saw it on the television, then I said something about my parents' house having one, and he suddenly decided he wanted to install his own."

Squidward got somehow satisfied with the justification and let it go. He needed to bring up  another  subject.

An  unpleasant  one.

"Anyway, I have been  having --" He said, slowly, working on the right phrase. Sipping his drink, he waved a tentacle in the air. "-the  impression  that your parents  might be  thinking we are closer than we  actually  are."

He eats another fork full of pasta waiting for SpongeBob to reply.

When the answer was delayed to come, the cephalopod looked up at him.

You would think Sea Sponge-Creatures don’t change color. But the yellow color is an easily changeable pigment. And to tell the truth, since he met SpongeBob his facial expressions are easily read effortlessly. The guy is truly expressive. 

Squidward just hadn't realized it was possible for that little yellow guy to blush  so much .

While the octopus man looked at him, SpongeBob averted eye contact.

“CoofCof.” The yellow guy ignored the subject completely and tapped against his own chest to dislodge the food that seemed to be stuck.

That was a highly  worrisome  response to his question.

"... Oh my god." He groans, shoulders lowering in realization.

"I can  explain ." SpongeBob quickly replied, both hands in the air. His cheeks are as red as the necktie of his daily uniform.

The Pacific octopus man, bordering the age of forty, was absolutely enraged and disgusted.

“You told your parents we are dating?!”

The sponge man laughed, trying to fake his anxiousness. He threw the remaining content of dinner in his mouth and stood quickly from the table, taking his plate to clean in the sink of the kitchen.

He took advantage of the opportunity that his back was turned to Squidward, and continued.

“Yeah, but that happened a loooooong time ago.” He stretched the word, playfully. Ignoring the flush in his cheeks. 

That was relieving, but Squidward didn’t have time to enjoy the relief before he continued, in a lower voice—almost like he didn’t want the cephalopod to hear it.

“... We married in June.”

Squidward's eyes twitched.

“We  what ?!”

After placing the plate on the sink, SpongeBob flinched at the loud angry shout. He knew it would happen eventually. He just  hoped  it didn’t.

He turned around with a regretful and uncomfortable expression, going back to the table.

Squidward just kept looking at him like he said nothing but random mad nonsensical words.

The yellow sponge, bordering the age of thirty-six took a deep breath in and looked at him, apologetic - worsening things by adding information on the faking relationship.

“In detail, the story is that we started going out in 2014, broke up in 2016, got back in 2017, got engaged in 2019, and married last year.” He counted on his fingers, walking to the front door. “We did a small celebration in secret. Went to Atlantic City on our honeymoon. Patrick is the best man. I lost our rings in a poker game. We are still discussing moving together. Gary and Snellie are having snail babies. BUT--” He turned around, showing all the six (?) fingers in the air and opening the door with his feet. “Right before Thanksgiving this year we’ll break up and everything will go back to normal again!”

When the door of Squidward’s house opened and SpongeBob took the first step outside—the octopus man stood from the chair, enraged.

“You  can't  be  serious !” Squidward shouted outrageously. “Get back here!!”

The yellow sponge didn’t, he ran out of the door, closing it behind him and leaving Squidward with the dirty dishes to deal with alone.

He could try to run and hide all he wanted, but he couldn't do that  forever .

Squidward opened the big can of sweet corn and looked inside to check if his coworker was there, grumbling once he didn’t find any clue of where he was hiding. He wasn't in the pantry, wasn't on the stove, wasn't in the freezer, on the shelf, in the potato basket, or under the counter. He wasn't in the office, behind some pillar, or on the ceiling. But he was there. Squidward knew he was there.

The irritating clatter of his rubber shoes gave him away.

“We still have twenty minutes until we open.” He announced, leaving the kitchen. “I’ll lock the front door and when I come back I want you out of wherever you are hiding!”

Spotting his feet on the ground, the older male went on with his quest.

He locked the door, frowning.

He hadn’t slept much the night before, but he was well fed which usually makes him less grumpy than usual—unfortunately, the reason for his healthy stomach is the same reason for his bad mood. So he wasn’t going to let it slip.

Once he pushed the wooden door of the kitchen and stepped inside, SpongeBob was there, with his back against the fridge crestfallen, twisting his hat with both hands.

Squidward crossed his arms.

“I gave you enough time to think on how to explain it to me.” He said, looking at the younger man from above. He was still very angry. “Now  spill  it.”

Sighing in a complete waiver, SpongeBob took a big breath in and sighed.

It took him a minute to actually look up at Squidward’s face. 

His cheeks were slightly flushed.

"Squiddy, I’m sorry, I--" He tried to defend himself, unrestrained unresting hands moving aimlessly around. "My parents were the ones that started misunderstanding things, and I just… It was supposed to be completely  harmless , so I decided to indulge in their idea because they looked so  happy ." He held his right arm against his side, averting eye contact again.

Yes, he was ashamed.

As he should be.

Squidward just frowned at him, waiting for the rest of it.

SpongeBob sighed again, closing his eyes and letting his back slide against the fridge door until he was sitting on the floor.

“Ever since I moved out of their house they were always asking me if I had found a date. But I never did.” He argued. “They started thinking I was suffering from loneliness and they were constantly insisting that I should try harder on meeting someone.” He explained like it wasn't a big deal. His face was flushed and embarrassed. “I told them I had Patrick and Sandy and you to make me good company, so I was fine. I don't need a lover if I have such good friends.”

The octopus man noticed it was probably going to take a while and adjusted his feet to a more comfortable position. Letting the frown cease a little. 

He shouldn't make this look like some sort of criminal investigation—as much as he wanted to.

SpongeBob gave Squidward an apologetic smile and, shrugging the arm he was holding, he continued.

“I’m above thirty so they kept insisting. I lied to them I was dating Sandy - but they know I’m gay since  before  I moved, so it didn’t work.” He played with his hands on his lap. “I wanted to make them  happy  and not disappointed, so Patrick was out of question - and the only good options I had were you and Larry.”

Squidward mindlessly felt a warm sensation of being compared to Larry for the first time in his life—if only it wasn’t in these circumstances he’d have felt really proud of himself.

“They already think you are a great guy and I thought--” SpongeBob started again, looking at the octopus, sheepish, making his voice change for another one to express a specific thought process, like it was literally what he said one day. “Oh, Squidward doesn’t date. He wouldn’t mind if I lied to my parents that live far away from Bikini Bottom for a little while that we were neighbors  and  boyfriends - after all, when I actually find a real date I’ll just tell them we broke up and no one would mind.”

After listening to the explanation, Squidward asked.

“For  8 years ?!”

It was one of the longest fake relationships he ever heard about, even in the freaking  soap operas .

In a sudden will to defend himself, SpongeBob stood from the floor and his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t  plan  it to take this long either.” He grumbled, offended. “I tried dating that anglerfish from Rock Bottom in 2016 but you remember how it ended up being a complete  disaster , and since me and you were--” He made quotation marks in the air. “Such a great pair,” His fingers motioned slowly. “they  begged  me to give us another  chance .”

Squidward pinched the middle of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but you can’t use this lie as an  escape plan .” He scolded the yellow squared sponge guy in front of him. “Put yourself in your parents’ shoes - you are lying to people that are just worried about you. That love you. Care for you. And accepted you in their life for what you really are, and are honestly expecting you to be happy with this choice.” The scolding sounded a lot personal from SpongeBob's point of view. “There aren’t many parents in this world that do it, you know.”

SpongeBob groaned ashamed at himself again - like the many times he did to himself in the mirror.

“ Yes  and that’s why I  panicked .” He shouted, jumping on the spot, hands straight forward. “I realized that if I told them how exactly we interact together, they would notice we are not a lovely couple and from that moment on I started telling them, in detail, what we do together.” He started walking around the kitchen, waving his hands, chattering with his tongue running a mile an hour. “But we do a lot of things together and before I realized they started thinking for real that we are just a very healthy gay couple that fights a lot and whenever I tried to argue that it wasn’t like that they started reasoning things that disarmed me completely and made it too difficult to talk over and I didn't know how to answer so I lied you asked me to marry you and I said  yes !!!” He pressed both hands on his flushed face and took a deep breath in, trying to adjust his nerves (and lung function). Chest expanding and exhaling quickly.

Squidward was super confused and disorientated.

“ Hold on --” He raised a tentacle. It was happening way too fast. “Why was I the one that proposed?!”

SpongeBob, after controlling his breath again, looked at Squidward between his fingers. 

“Because they a-a-a--” Spongebob hiccupped in a growing high tone, his eyes watering and his nose rosing. “-a-adooore you!” 

Then he burst out in ugly tears.

Aloud .

At that moment Mister Krab appeared at the kitchen door, opening it quickly and questioning the noise.

“What’s happening here?” He asked, worried. Looking at SpongeBob’s crying out loud and a very uncomfortable and tired Squidward scolding him from above. “Why the fuss?”

The Cephalopoda man groaned, ignoring his boss, and pressing both hands (tentacles?) against the younger one’s shoulder and shook him out of it.

“Pull yourself together.” He shook him harder to see if brute force could make the yellow man stop crying. “Either you tell them, or get yourself a real date, I’m not gonna help you lie to your parents!” They don’t deserve it.

SpongeBob cleaned his eyes with the back of his hands and looked at Squidward with a desperate look.

“But  how , Squiddy?!” His voice was filled with sadness and despair. “How do I do it?!”

The cephalopod looked into those wet light blue eyes and puffy flushed cheeks staring back at him and sighed.

"Eugene." He called Mr. Krab, by the door, looking at them without understanding a thing. Once the crustacean looked back at him, he asked. “Can you give me Pearl’s new phone number, please?”

Plan A was simple, it was for SpongeBob to participate in Pearl's circle of friends until he finds someone who is interested in him. It was a ridiculous plan, to be honest, but SpongeBob didn’t tell him.

The vibrant lights of the sign above the main entrance of the dance bar left the little one with an uncomfortable feeling in his belly. The loud music echoes off those quivering walls.

“Are you sure, Squiddy?” He asked.

He was wearing relatively more elegant clothes than usual. He was even wearing a new cologne that he had received as a gift on his last birthday and a blue dress shirt that matched his eyes, together with a sneaker that Squidward gave him because it no longer fit him.

“No, but you look younger than you are.” He commented, offhandedly, putting both hands inside his pockets. “And older fish like to get involved with younger ones, so you are supposed to be easy bait in the dim light.” He explained, half certain and half uncertain, shrugging.

They were in front of the bar, looking at the way the walls were shaking as if the whole structure was dancing too. The bouncer looked at them with a raised eyebrow, waiting for them to finish the conversation.

It was already pretty late but there weren't many people outside. Apparently, that day was a special day, with someone playing some live electronic music so many people arrived earlier to get good spots on the dance floor.

“I'm not  nocturnal , I go to bed at ten every night!” In SpongeBob’s own view those were serious arguments. “I can't even  remember  the last time I did this.” He whimpered, getting scared by just remembering how weird it was to be alone in such a place. 

Their routine wasn't much different, although SpongeBob's daytime activities were certainly more exciting than Squidward's.

"You won't be alone." He said. And when the yellow guy’s eyes widened with emotion that his friend would accompany him, Squidward grinned playfully and mischievously. "Pearl will be there." And then he took a step back teasingly. 

Just as quickly SpongeBob’s fists held into his shirt, his head perspiring in worry.

“No nonono,  please , Squiddy.” He begged, whimpering even more. “I’ll stop bothering you for two weeks!”

“You already owe me a whole month of peace for the free-parking tickets!” He crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow at the short guy holding the hem of his shirt. He won’t fall for that. “What are you afraid of?  Teenagers ?”

SpongeBob looked at him, confused and worried.

“Wait, it’s way past curfew on a Monday. Why are teenagers awake at this hour?”

Because they still have energy for these things, unlike adults like him.

“Because they don’t work.” He argued instead, turning SpongeBob around and pressing his shoulders forward, dragging him to the line of the entrance. “Also, who else would be in a club on a Monday night except for them and desperate adults seeking company?”

The yellow man whimpered, shoulders rising in the air as he felt his feet dig the sand.

“What if someone deceives me into buying them expensive drinks again?!” He desperately tried to argue against the idea of going alone on the sea of thirsty sharks. He has bad memories from all the previous times he tried that at a young age. “I’m way too gullible and cute!”

Squidward stopped pressing him forwards and halted on the stop, looking at him with an unbelieved laugh on his lips.

“You are not naive, you are childish. It’s totally different. Now go and find yourself another   husband .” He picked SpongeBob in the air and threw him inside over the head of the bouncer in front of the door, who just looked over his sunglasses at him and the other two fishes stared at him clean his hands (tentacles?) and turning around.

Finally  silence . The blessing of no noise, irritating talk, and annoying sounds.

He took a deep breath in and—dramatically—sighed slowly.

Smiling, he placed both hands on his hips and looked at the horizon.

The loud music from inside the club occupied the vacant space of SpongeBob’s incessant whimper and insecurity chattering—it was a nice change.

When he took the first step back to the bus stop he heard a breaking noise from inside and flinched.

“ Goddamnit… ”

It took him twenty minutes to actually get the courage to enter.

When Squidward finally spotted SpongeBob inside the club, he was already drinking from a bottle of beer because at least he'd been allowed to walk around the dancefloor without having to actually dance with those strangers.

With his lips pressed against his longneck bottle tip, he almost spits it all once he saw SpongeBob inside the VIP area talking with a fish girl with red lips and dark long fins he remembered being the principal pianist of the Spring orchestra.

The same one he was 'supposed' to participate in.

“ Goddamnit! ” He cursed out loud, groaning. Holding his bald hand and getting anxious.

He didn’t approach, he was too worried about approaching. 

SpongeBob seemed like he was having fun, talking with the talented lady. He played something with his nose like a flute and both laughed out loud. Then he made a very deep frowning face and shaped a long nose on his face with his flesh—then he said something from behind his giant nose and both laughed again.

Squidward felt highly offended.

He took a deep breath in and decided to approach.

“Oh! Squidward, you came!!” SpongeBob sounded excited, waving his legs over the high.

The loud music was, obviously, loud. But they managed to talk.

“Did you find Pearl?” He asked him.

SpongeBob pointed to the lady beside him.

“Yes! But I also met Wrassy and it's been forever since we’ve seen each other!” He raised both hands showing the pretty red-lipped lady.

She waved, politely.

Squidward, pushed SpongeBob sideways to ask in private.

“You know Alaska Wrasses?!” He asked, totally bewildered.

The yellow sponge grinned at him playfully.

“Well, yes, I know a lot of people.” He waved his eyebrows suggestively.

Squidward gave him a raised eyebrow.

He giggled.

“We are from the same fan club of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy” He joked, giggling some more.

That highly talented woman was in the same fan club from that stupid show? Hardly believable, but surprisingly possible. After his eyes stopped twitching at the brain cells dying from being used to process that information, the octopus man pinched the middle of his eyebrow and sighed.

“So you haven’t talked about the Spring Festival, right?”

SpongeBob’s eyes shined as he remembered.

“Oh, yes! We should tell her you are going to participate too!!” He turned around to talk to her, but Squidward just as fast pressed a hand against his mouth, looking at him with a desperate look.

SpongeBob frowned at him, in a silent question, and Squidward gave him a scolding look for him to  not  mention it at  all . Then, they exchanged some non-verbal communication, sighing with their eyes and eyebrows, while the woman waited, sipping her drink. Green eyes changing from the shot guy from the tall one.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked.

The cephalopod took his hand out of SpongeBob’s mouth and replied to her.

“Not at all, Hi.” He raised a tentacle to shake hands. The woman did as well with her fin. “Squidward Tentacles.”

“Oh!” She smiled, surprised. “Squillian’s friend, right?”

And that's it.

That’s the whole point of Squidward's existence. Being remembered by the popular people of someone that Squillian knows about. A nobody. Not even the guy that almost died once because of his supposedly called friend on a fatidic day of winter after a horrible break up with a supposedly loving and supporting boyfriend outside of the record studio using his stolen finances to his selfish publicity. With everything going downhill after that. With him being kicked out of music college, and dumped into a puddle without a home to go back to. On that freezing weather, with the chilling sensation of snow falling on his skin as vivid as the sound and feel of his once-warm heart now broken to tiny meaningless pieces and turning itself into a cube of ice. Cold and lifeless.

That’s him.

“More like an acquaintance, but yes.” He replied, probably shaky but trying to shrug it off just like always.

SpongeBob looked at him with an unreadable expression, somehow worried.

“SpongeBob told me about you, you’re actually nicer than what I’ve heard!” She smiled at him. “Right?” She asked the yellow guy, looking at him. The big earrings swayed with her movement.

After a second of an afterthought of Squidward's reaction, SpongeBob stuttered going back to his cheerful personality.

“O-of course!” He sits back on the high chair, telling Squidward to join them. “He’s a great guy, a great artist, and a great friend too!” He smiled at his neighbor, kindly. As usual. As always.

Sometimes SpongeBob deserves the right to be a pain in his ass because no one ever really treats him as nice.

“Oh, really?” The girl replied, surprised.

SpongeBob excitedly replied.

“Indeed!” He smiled. “He memorized the entire Spring Festival Orchestra score on Clarinet. Didn’t you Squiddy?” He batted his eyelashes, proud of his friend.

“I-I-I--” The octopus stuttered, face flushing absurdly. Complete out of words. Wanting nothing but to murder his traitorous friend who he'd thought had entered into a nonverbal agreement through looks a few seconds ago. But also completely taken by surprise by the information he could swear no one knew about.

How does SpongeBob know about it?

“He practices all the time, and sometimes I listen from the window.” He giggles, explaining. “It's such a wonderful melody.” He playfully commented, daydreaming.

Oh,  barnacles .

Alaska Wrasses looked at him with a high surprise and flattering smile.

“So you liked it?!” She asked, in such a sweet voice.

It took Squidward by even more surprise and SpongeBob nodded his head fast, smiling.

“I loved it!” He shouted.

“I was the one who composed the scores!” She pointed at herself, cheeks flushing. She looked younger when she smiled in such away. “I thought the melody would look great with solo clarinets but I decided to take them out because…” She stopped, and her voice vanished, getting lower than the background music, making it impossible to be heard.

SpongeBob got closer to try listening, but Squidward already presumed what she was trying to say.

“Squiliam discouraged you, didn’t he?” He asked, not even looking at her. He resumed drinking from his bottle of beer even though it might have gone warm by now.

The lady looked up at him. Something hidden in her green eyes. The cephalopod looked at her by the corner of his eyes, sad, and averted eye contact a second later.

SpongeBob looked between them with a growing alarm.

He took his non-alcoholic beverage in his hands and threw it over his shoulder.

“Oops, I’m going to get another drink. Be right back!” He stood from his chair, taking the glass up and leaving both of them behind.

The octopus could see SpongeBob anxiously dodging the many people dancing in the middle of the room - almost falling - and chuckled at his friend’s clumsiness.

Such a dork.

He isn’t mean. 

He's brash, shameless, imprudent, and maybe a little stupid, yes. He does care about others, and a person he undeniably cares a lot about—maybe more than he actually should considering he’s hated by the other part—is Squidward Tentacles.

And one thing he does to people he likes is taking care of them.

And by taking care of them, SpongeBob knows it’s better if he doesn’t get himself involved with Squidward’s past.

Sure, he met Squilliam. And he knows how much of a prick the guy is.

He also knows how low, mean, bad influence, selfish and crooked he was.

A complete  Swindler . 

But doesn’t know the details, and he’s pretty sure Squidward wants it to remain like that.

There's nothing SpongeBob wouldn't want to know about the other man. He wished he could know  everything . Sometimes he wants to pick inside, get a glimpse, ask little bits here and there. But the subject name “Squilliam” archive hidden on the high shelf of Squidward’s brain is a no-no. And he understands it.

He hates everything about it. But he accepts.

Because he’s pushy, but he doesn't push. He’s curious, but he doesn’t dig deeper than he should. He’s  passionate , but he stands still in his place, as a friend wishing to not be pushed away.

The night cold breeze of the streets at half-past midnight was a nice one.

They had opted to walk back home to sober up - the work shift would not start until 3 or 4 pm the next day so they would have plenty of time to rest when they arrived.

Whatever conversation Squidward had with Alaska resulted in a smile on the older man's blue face and that was reason enough to make the yellow guy less worried.

“So…” He started, holding both hands behind his back. Cheeks flushed. “What’s Plan B?”

Squidward looked down at his side, at the sponge man, arching an eyebrow at him, and frowned the other.

“What Plan B?”

“You know…” SpongeBob said, shy, averting eye contact.

The octopus didn’t know.

“I haven’t found a date…” His voice was low and abashed.

Squidward face-palmed himself, remembering the reason why they were there.

“ Goddamnit. ”

Chapter Text

Sandy had joined forces with the enemy.

“Why, Girl?!” Cried Mr. Krabs, holding her right leg. “ Why ?!” He burst out in tears.

The squirrel girl was in the land right next to the Krusty Krab, buying votes with processed food made by a machine she had created with Plankton's Wife's help.

Karen’s slender base was also being hugged by Plankton’s tiny hands while the small guy cried buckets over his loss.

“I thought we loved each other!” He mourned.

“𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸.” She replied to him, with her feminine and slightly-robotic voice. “𝘐’𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸.”

Sandy waved a hand near her furry chin, on the outside of her helmet.

“That’s  not  the right phrase, but okay.”

Squidward was just standing in the front of Krusty Krab looking at the view with a broom in hand. He was previously swiping the floor while SpongeBob was cleaning the tables and shining the wood pillars, but now they were just there, standing, watching the drama unfold.

“It was doomed to happen, really.” Squidward commented, almost wanting to laugh at the scene.

Eugene cried hiccupping, probably because of the loss of money he was going to have with a  real  commercial rivalry. Plankton cried ugly long deep groanings, possibly because Karen was seriously leaving him for a female texan squirrel. 

“Should we go help them?” The younger man wrung the cloth with his hands, concerned.

“No.” The octopus replied, swiping the floor again to finish his job quickly and get inside.

“Why not?”

“ Payback .”

Today should be a Municipal Holiday. Also, the weather had warned everyone in advance about the possibility of heavy rain. They shouldn't even have come to work, to begin with. 

The sky was dark with heavy clouds, lightning could be seen just a few miles away, it was probably going to pour down in just an hour or so and they still is been obligated to work even though it was very unlikely any customer is going to show up in the middle of the rain for a patty. 

Squidward was already expecting it to be boring as hell. So he deserves a little revenge.

He had just finished wiping the front when the drops started to pour down. The heavy cloud gathered together over Bikini Bottom and it quickly got dark even though it was barely six o’clock. Just as readily the line of clients on Sandy and Karen’s food truck vanished and the girls closed, taking off as fast as they could.

Mr. Krabs and Plankton started to cry together, in the rain. Sharing their despair together in a miserable hug.

SpongeBob and Squidward got inside, already expecting the day to be a looong one without customers.

The cook went to check stock, a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. There wasn't much else to do so he sang along to music on the radio while doodling on the notepad between counting the ingredients.

Squidward just occupied himself at the cashier, playing crossword puzzles inside the funny part of the daily journal (at least the newspaper delivered early that day).

"Squiddy!" Shouted SpongeBob from inside the kitchen, less than an hour later.

The octopus didn't even look over the window. He just grumbled in acknowledgment.

"What?"

A yellow hand appeared out of the window, behind Squidward's head and pressed the can of whipped cream upside down onto the cephalopod's bald head. Creating the illusion of a white big tuft of hair.

SpongeBob giggled at the image.

"You look like an actor." And he finished it by putting a berry on top.

Squidward looked back at him with half-closed eyes, annoyed. He opened his mouth to growl at the Sponge's smiling face but stopped an inch away, looking at those blue eyes, and sighed. Sitting back in his chair with the newspaper in hand.

No. He shouldn't get pissed by just that. It doesn't hurt. They are alone. SpongeBob is trying to get something else to do instead of actually bothering or applying chaos to the restaurant. So be it.

Above it all, on the opposite of anything you might have expected (and the little sponge guy himself), Squidward indulged in the play pretend.

"Thanks, it's a new hair gel."

It is innocent. A simple answer to make SpongeBob enjoy it.

It took the boy by surprise. To say the least.

The silence ruled between them for a long minute.

Squidward just kept looking at the crossword puzzles in the newspaper, trying to decipher the answer to those questions, and didn't see the younger's reaction.

That usual trademarking laugh sounded a second later. And it somehow eased the mood.

"I bet it's a  sweet  brand." He jokes back, actually adoring the fact Squidward had replied to him.

Squidward grinned soundlessly, swaying his head for the wiped cream to bounce a bit like jelly.

"Certainly." The octopus agreed. "It's a French recipe Salon Edition." He playfully replied back, sticking a finger and taking a bit of the whipped cream to try on. He looked at the white soft sweet fluffy industrialized cream on top of his tentacle before eating. "The most popular among middle-aged bald men."

He doesn't know what he expected from the taste, really. It was just whipped cream. He had eaten it thousands of times over cakes and sweets SpongeBob had prepared for him as gifts and as dessert, during those evenings they dined together for the same money. And somehow… it didn’t taste as sweet. Maybe that cook’s handmade whipped cream recipe was different.

SpongeBob laughed at him again, creating a mustache with whipped cream from the can, and taking the berry from the top of Squidward's makeshift hair and eating it with a loud pop of lips.

"Hmmm, dairy-based hair revitalization." His voice raised, combing the mustache with tiny yellow fingers. "Makes it so  smooth , doesn't it?"

"Indeed, my  hairstylist  would be jealous now."

Barking a laugh out loud, SpongeBob complimented his sense of humor. Very impressed.

"Uuuh, that was a good one!" He laughed. "You are so funny, Squidward."

Delightifulling himself on the praise, as usual (since the opportunities barely show up), the coworker indulged in it.

"Of course I am." He gloated, shaking his head backward, making the tuft bounce like a Hollywood artist quiff in front of SpongeBob’s face. “The funniest and hairier.” He joked again.

With the tuft of white cream pressed against his face, he felt part of it stuck on the point of his yellow nose - he stuck the tip of his tongue out and licked it together with the mustache cream on his face. Humming pleased at the taste, the yellow guy bit his lip and felt a sudden urge to also lick the sweet white cream on top of Squidward's head to clean it. He stuck his tongue out again, taking a big portion of the older man’s makeshift hair into it. The octopus felt the moistened tongue against his bald head and shivered, uncomfortable. He tried to ignore it as another completely mad action from that little weird co-worker, but the front half of the whipped cream ended up dropping forward from over his forehead and dirtying his lap.

"Look at the mess you did, you oaf." He groaned, annoyed. 

Not pissed, just annoyed.

SpongeBob didn't see clearly where the chantilly had fallen into and before sticking his head over the window sill to look better, he was already apologizing and trying to fix things before Squidward gets mad at him.

"Sorry! I'll lick it."

Squidward flushed, sending a scolding look over his shoulder to the cook.

Just after SpongeBob looked at the white cream splashed over Squidward's lap that he realized his unplaced comment and also flushed, embarrassed.

"I mean–" He started justifying, face getting redder. Hands sweating buckets, gripping at the sill. " Platonically ?"

Squidward sighed, shaking his head and pressing a hand (tentacle?) against SpongeBob’s face, pushing him inside the kitchen from over the window. His other hand started cleaning the chantilly from his skin. He grumbled undeniably flushed.

"Sometimes you are way too obvious, you know." He replied, taking the sweet out of him and cleaning himself with some napkins he saves under the cashier for the customers.

The flustered yellow sponge lost himself with his own words, stuttering. Raising himself over the window again.

"Pff, w-what? No, I'm not!" He crossed both arms over the window sill, hiding half of his face under it and averting eye contact. Then, he asked in a low voice. "Obvious about  what  exactly?"

Squidward snorted at his coworker's embarrassing attempt of keeping cool about it.

"I'm not getting into this conversation." He declared, getting used to whatever were these rare situations where SpongeBob would swing between lunatic and completely sane-human in seconds of conversation. "Not  sober  anyway."

“I--” SpongeBob’s eyes widened and he took a deep breath in, opening his mouth to probably cry out loud that he had a bottle of wine hidden somewhere inside the kitchen, but Squidward had at  least  eight years of this shit, already being an  expert  on dodging whatever attempts that short sponge guy tried on him whenever they were alone and the fucking  mood  appeared again.

“It wasn’t an invitation.” He interrupted him, looking out of the front door and seeing how absolutely dark it was outside. Somehow not even the street lights were shining enough over the pouring outside.

The sound of the rain soothed and brought a numbing sensation to that icy place. It was weird to confess, but in a way, he was glad he wasn't alone.

A lightning bolt sliced through the skies outside, echoing a thunderous noise inside the restaurant.

"So, how about our plan B?" Asked SpongeBob a second later, already getting over the sad fact Squidward dodged him again. It would be much better if he just downright rejected him, but also, SpongeBob wasn’t sure he  wanted  to listen to that. He knows he won’t have a chance of owning the man’s love, but he can’t help but hold onto the expectation of succeeding in becoming at least some kind of friend-with-benefits someday - he’s a fool for many things, yes, but he isn’t blind, he can see the mood even though Squidwards insistently dismisses it.

Anyway.

“ Your  Plan B is for you to get a date from someone that likes the same things as you, from the same social circle. Why don’t you try someone from that weird giant-peanut childish Club you go to?" Squidward opted for letting the details of it being an alien death cult part out of the conversation.

“You mean the best club ever and undoubtedly not a cult Goofy Goober Fan Club?” Grinned SpongeBob, eyes widening and shining. Biting his lips. Super excited to be talking about his religion or something.

“ Yeah ...” The octopus man replied, slowly.

SpongeBob's excitement disappeared a second later, and it took Squidward by surprise.

“I… I can’t date fellow Goofy Goobers.” He grumbled, sad. “It’s against the law.”

Squidward decided to ignore the weirdness of that statement.

“How about that one Alaska Wrasses is in? The Merman ‘nd Barnacle gay Fan Club?” Asked the octopus, misspelling on purpose, one tentacle in the air while the other was using the sill of the window between them for support. SpongeBob was on top of the stove to be at the same height as his coworker.

“It’s more like a convention we go to once a year, I don’t  actually  have the contact of anyone.” He whimpered, shoulders lowering, even more, he was almost becoming a soft mess of yellow fluffy cream on top of the stove, just like the chantilly.

“How about the  other  clubs you are in?” Asked Squidward, sympathetic but also annoyed.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know, you are in so many.” He shrugged, he took the newspaper in hand again, looking back at the unfinished puzzles. “Choose one, find someone you like, and ask them out. It is not a driving test. You’ve done it before, you’ll handle it.”

SpongeBob groaned out loud.

“Urgh! But I’m  horrible  at this.” He emptied like a balloon, dropping his arms over the window ledge. “Can’t you introduce me to someone?” He asked, batting his eyelashes a second later.

Squidward wasn’t even looking at him for it to work the way SpongeBob wanted.

“No.” He replied.

SpongeBob whimpered.

“Pleeeeease, Squiddy.” He begged, supporting his body over the window sill and looking over Squidward’s shoulder, pressing his cheeks together. 

“Even if I  wanted , SpongeBob - which I  don’t --” He stated. “--I have no one to introduce you to. I barely go out.” In the end, he frowned, because just thinking about it makes him remember how much of an antisocial he became over the years. “You know  a lot of people , don’t you?” He asked, teasing him, remembering what the yellow guy told him at the nightclub the other night. “You are hardworking, can be polite  and  charismatic if you make some effort, so you have more chances than I ever got to actually find a date at your age. Quit the drama.”

SpongeBob stood way too quiet and it made Squidward feel like something was off.

He turned around a bit to look over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow and saw the sponge’s sad face, holding his head with the help of his elbow against the sill and looking at the side, frowning - it was clear in his eyes that he was unhappy and angry about what the octopus man had said.

“What?” He asked.

SpongeBob frowned at him, pouting, puffing his cheeks, and getting inside the kitchen again. Outing himself from Squidward’s view.

Squidward knew that expression - SpongeBob was legitimately  upset .

And a seriously upset SpongeBob was just as rare as a well-behaved Patrick.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asked, slightly worried. He didn’t understand it, he thought he had actually  praised  the guy instead of insulting him for once about it.

The younger man’s voice came echoing from inside the kitchen - still out of the view. The sound of utensils being used echoed.

“Just because you're  amazing  doesn't mean you can rub your high standards on my face, you jerk.”

Squidward Tentacles stood dumbfounded for a second, staring at the wall inside the kitchen from the window and mouthing words that he just couldn’t get a grip on to reply.

SpongeBob had insulted him. 

Legitimately  insulted him.

At the same time as he had, once again, praised and somehow confessed all in one insulting sentence.

Wow .

There weren't many things Squidwards could say in reply to that. Seriously. He pressed a tentacle against his face, massaging his forehead and the middle of his eyes - sighing.

Goddamnit.

He does  not  have high standards. He is  not  amazing. But,  yes , he  is  a jerk.

He is a jerk because he doesn't want to engage in relationships again, even though he keeps complaining about it.

SpongeBob was right. And although he is mad, he isn’t  maddening  anymore. He’s loud, but it doesn’t bother him in the middle of the night when he politely asks him to not do it. In the last few years the fact that they were neighbors had stopped being a complete nuisance - Squidward could finally enjoy his free time in peace after what happened in 2016, and it made him realize SpongeBob isn’t a puzzle like the super hard crossword on the newspaper. His personality is something Squidward  can  solve and understand. He  literally  gives Squidward the pen and tells him to connect the dots himself, and yet Squidward doesn't  want it.

He doesn't want him. And it wasn’t SpongeBob’s fault, he was seriously doing his best. 

He's making more effort than anyone has ever tried with him. And it's at least  charming  when it works out.

But, still, Squidward should just tell him this is all useless.

He can’t  date  SpongeBob, because he can’t date  anyone .

Period .

Anyone’s attempts are all a miserable waste of time. He’s not worthy of the investment. He can’t make anyone happy. His chest is cold and empty. He hasn't done commitments since he was a young adult and he won’t do it ever again.

He just fakes he’s great and mighty because it helps him look less of a crap.

And SpongeBob is way too loving. He has way too much energy and too much love to give. He’s fully capable of finding  anyone  else. He will easily find a partner if he invests wisely. Just  not  him. They are not  compatible .

Genetically  and  biologically speaking too.

Blocks are not Triangles, and Squares are not spheres. Simple as that. It doesn't matter that sponges are literally the sea's most adaptable creatures. Any type of experiment involving them together will be nothing more than just handmade assemble attempts that would surely end in frustration.

And yet, he never confronted him to make him stop. 

So yes, Squidward  is  a jerk.

Because he  likes  the attention.

“Look, I’m sorry--” He took a deep breath in and out, grumbling behind his nose, slowly. He felt like trash. He wanted to confess. But before he could, he felt a hot mug being pressed against the side of his cheek. 

He looked back inside the window. Inside the kitchen, SpongeBob was there, holding two mugs with hot cocoa and marshmallows inside, smiling at him. 

“-- what? ” Was the only thing Squidward managed to ask instead, in surprise.

The yellow guy sat in front of the window and placed both mugs on the sill, shrugging, he was back with his smiley face.

“The rain made me want to prepare something warm.” He explained, but it didn’t explain anything at all.

Squidward just blinked at him, confused.

“Weren't you mad?” He asked, taking one of the mugs in his hands.

“Yeah, but-- Pfffft-” SpongeBob waved off the subject. “Whatever, not like I’m not used to it already.” He shrugged again, drinking from his own warm drink.

It made something very painful ache inside the cephalopod.

(Even after reading his personal diary a few years ago, he never knew if SpongeBob was seriously delusional or just very good at ignoring bad emotions.)

But he didn’t say anything.

With the speed of the wind and the force of the rain outside the restaurant, the lights flickered for a moment.

SpongeBob looked at how uneasy Squidward was and tried to ease the mood by sitting on the sill of the window. He struggled a bit, but he was tiny, he could do it.

“Do you want me to say something weird for us to pretend everything is fine?” He asked in a whisper, inclining a bit forward, legs waving.

Squidward looked into his clear blue eyes and smiled in relief, chuckling at his coworker, inclining forward as well to reply in another whisper, getting them closer than usually comfortable for the cephalopod. And the fact he was the one that did it, made SpongeBob visibly flustered. He squeaked. His legs stilled.

He was  suuuch  a jerk, wasn't he?

“You already did.” He answered, sipping from his warm sweet cocoa beverage but not taking his eyes away from the yellow guy.

SpongeBob’s face was flushed when he tried to laugh it out by playfully commenting, although somehow still teasingly.

“I think Mr. Krabs went home about an hour ago.” He said with the normal volume of his voice. Legs waving again - forcibly.

He was right. It wasn’t likely Mr. Krabs and Plankton were  still  outside under the rain crying over their loss.

Right?

“Aaaand--” The yellow guy continued, prolonging the sound on his tongue. “Since we have nothing to do, how about a game?” He said, setting his cup on the sill beside him, taking a deck of cards from his pockets and showing it.

Squidward looked at the deck, sipping his drink mindlessly. SpongeBob's sweet drink was very tasty. Like most of the things he prepares.

"Why do I have the impression you are going to propose we bet something?" He asked, grumpily, eyes going back to his coworker, over the mug.

SpongeBob giggled in a different form, face flushing. Legs swinging  more .

"What? Noooo…" He tried to fake his anxiety, shuffling the deck of cards in a leisurely way.

Squidward arched an eyebrow at him.

"But, well, since you  brought it up– " He started again taking the mug of hot cocoa in his hands to sip on it (and probably hide behind it as well) "-we could try it."

Squidward snorted.

"You are being way too obvious again." 

SpongeBob gasped, abashed, but before he could voice any reply, the energy of the entire restaurant flickered again and fell off at once, together with the flash and a loud sound of a lightning bolt exploding outside - putting them in complete darkness.

They both looked up at the same time, automatically.

Then, Squidward looked at where he believed SpongeBob still was, in the dark, and, with half-closed eyes and a raised eyebrow, he asked.

“Do we have flashlights?” 

SpongeBob's voice, completely hidden in the darkness, whispered in reply, from the exact spot at the window as he was sitting a moment ago.

"I think I do. Hold my mug." He replied, giving Squidward his cup of cocoa and jumping back inside the kitchen.

He ended up making something fall off - probably a pan - causing a sound to echo in the empty and dark restaurant. Like the clumsy guy he is.

" Ouch. " He groaned in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a sec."

Squidward couldn't see anything anyway, so he just waited on the cashier.

"Found it!" SpongeBob shouted a moment later. "After that little fire at Thanksgiving last year, Mr. Krabs took out all the candles I kept in the kitchen. Then he got me this emergency flashlight in the shape of a spatula as a gift, but I thought I'd never use it because Fifi works better." He chattered while moving around the kitchen. 

Squidward kept trying to distinguish something in the darkness. He couldn't. At least he didn't drop the mugs of hot cocoa. Both were safely in his hands.

" Fascinating ," Squidward replied, lying, not at all interested, but wanting to reply something for the little guy to hear he was still there.

A lightning bolt flashed outside, illuminating for a second everything.

Squidward could swear he saw a shadow running outside but at the same time, he could be just seeing things.

Noone would be seriously running under that heavy stormy rain pouring like ice cubes. 

A second later he heard the door of the kitchen opening with Spongebob holding the flashlight in his hands.

"Thank god I'm organized." The cook commented, laughing, lighting Squidward's face.

Squidward made space for him to get inside the boat they use as a cashier. SpongeBob looked at him with surprise.

"The generator is in the back, shouldn't we check?" He asked, pointing a thumb to his behind.

Squidward looked at him holding the flashlight and then said something he didn't think he would ever do in any other circumstances.

"Later."

The yellow guy stood waiting for a better explanation.

Squidward sat on his side of the cashier, showing both of the mugs up and the spot beside him.

"Let's finish the drinks. It's cold outside."

SpongeBob's eyes widened as he oohed and approached the boat, cautiously.

He entered, and sat beside Squidward, taking his mug of hot cocoa back.

The flashlight was placed near the cash register pointed down. The dim light over them made the atmosphere... eerie? No, they weren't afraid of the dark. Just… shivery.

The atmosphere brought a weird sense of secrecy. It freaked Squidward a bit out once he realized.

SpongeBob was sitting beside him, holding his cup of hot cocoa and being way too quiet.

Squidward regretted his idea very quickly.

"I mean, if there isn't light, people will think we are closed and  in case  someone appears, they will leave." He explained, waving a tentacle around. "This way we don't need to  actually  work like we are supposed to since it's a holiday." He concluded, sipping his drink.

SpongeBob agreed with him, nodding his head but otherwise, he kept quiet.

Squidward noticed under the dim light that his coworker was slightly flushed, sitting beside him, inside the boat, shaking his legs. 

Their height difference was really apparent.

"My parents called." The Sea Sponge Man began, in a whisper. Probably also feeling the atmosphere.

Squidward hummed around his mug.

SpongeBob looked down and continued.

"And I couldn't tell them the truth yet." He confessed in a shallow low voice.

The octopus man looked at him with a scolding frown but once he noticed SpondeBob's figure under that dim light he stopped the rude words from coming out of him. The point of the cheeks of the younger man was red, his shoes were touching the tip of each other and his eyelids were halfway closed, lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t even looking at Squidward. 

It wasn't a declaim that he wasn't fulfilling his part of the deal. It was a wholeheartedly honest confession.

SpongeBob couldn't do it.

He wasn't strong enough to.

"Did they talk about me?" He questioned.

SpongeBob's face flushed a bit more and he shrugged a shoulder up.

"They did." He confessed. "My mom sewed a cold sweatshirt for you." His voice trembled as he mouthed it against the mug of hot cocoa. "It was the first time she ever got the chance to sew for anyone else besides me, she looked very satisfied with how it came out."

SpongeBob's parents were really sweet.

Gosh…

Coming out to them from the beginning, having the ultimate support and care, and still having the difficulty of spending  years  trying to find love was possibly just as frustrating as having you defy the authority of your home at an early age, have your heartbreak and still be cut off from your family.

He looked at SpongeBob's slim short figure beside him. Taking a deep breath in, the cephalopod exhaled in a long sigh.

Squidward said what in any other moment he wouldn't. 

Again.

"You know what? Fine–" He initiated, not looking down at the yellow guy anymore. Preferring to keep looking at the darkness outside of the boat.

SpongeBob looked up at him, waiting.

"'Fine' what?"

"Let them  think  we are a thing until you find a true lover."

Spongebob's eyes widened as he gasped in awe.

"S-seriously?!" He was almost speechless.

"I'm doing this for Harold and Margaret, not you.” He replied, against the porcelain of his cup, pressed into his blue lips. “They are great parents and they deserve to be happy." He explained before SpongeBob got the wrong idea that it was for him instead. "Also, it was hypocritical of me to get mad at you because of it. I've lied to several people to get myself out of trouble too. Especially relationships and my parents.” And with a tentacle, he tapped SpongeBob's squared head. “If you had the courage to  try  it, you are braver than me."

It took a moment for Spongebob to realize it was seriously happening. 

When he didn't wake up from his dream, he flushed.

Then, about a few seconds later, the yellow guy laughed his trademark laugh in a lower voice. Cheeks still blushed.

He looked at Squidward and smiled.

“You super look like a relationship-savvy adult right now.”

The octopus man grinned proudly at him, completely self-centered for show.

“But who said I am not?” He asked, dramatically puffing his chest out and giving SpongeBob his best smile. For laughs.

The yellow sponge man grinned back at him, completely into the joke.

“Oh,  please , Woo-Master, give me insight!” His eyes shined comically.

Squidward opened his mouth and pretended to be receiving telekinesis messages from beyond, pressing his thempora, his other tentacle still resting on top of the yellow sponge’s head (mug being left on his side for a bit).

“I'm feeling it. Make your question, humble man.” He exclaimed, in a modified voice, enjoying the silly play pretend. 

A lightning bolt exploded outside again making somehow the joke even more real. 

Squidward snorted.

“Will I ever get married?” Asked SpongeBob, still playful. “I'm small but I have so much love to give.”

It is still pretty rare and weird for him to actually join on whether funny fantasy SpongeBob likes to play on a daily basis - it was refreshing, to say the least. In such a place and time.

“There is a  tiny  likelihood - but, possibly.”

"Uh-uh!" Spongebob exclaimed, happy. "Can I ask another question?!"

Squidward chuckled at his childish enthusiasm and grinned, eyes still closed.

"Go on, boy."

Once the younger adult delayed making the question to him, Squidward looked down and met serious blue eyes.

The restaurant was empty and dark, rain pouring outside and SpongeBob was looking so serious at him it made him swallow dry.

Those eyes could be so damn  serious  when he wanted them to be.

Which was even  rarer  than the octopus participating in that silly fantasy.

“Will I ever get a  chance , Squidward?”

Under that dim light, with the atmosphere of a poorly funded romantic movie, Squidward flushed. He could feel his chest get tight for a second.

Then, he sighed. 

He could lie again. Just like always. Or he could just pretend he heard something else instead of that question. But it was really hard to be confronted with such seriousness from a guy who couldn’t stay silent for more than five minutes without laughing and whose shoes make the same rubbery noise for ten years straight or more.

The tentacle on the top of SpongeBob’s head slid to his eyes and pressed, preventing the younger man from seeing his flushed face.

He couldn’t help it. His real self was always shy.

He joked that the younger man was too direct with his pick-ups, but he couldn't really be bothered by them. It was, in a way, a thing that makes him feel  wanted . And whenever SpongeBob flirts with him, it makes him feel less sick of himself when he goes to sleep alone in his cold empty bed.

He didn't want to  lose  that little attention he has, even if it was from just one single short and squared person.

He didn't want to  lose  that short and squared person.

Squidward did, once again, what in any other moment he wouldn't. 

With the tentacle pressed against SpongeBob’s eyes (that hadn't been taken out by the youngest - still holding the cup of hot chocolate in quiet seriousness), preventing him from seeing and panicking them both by his following action, the cephalopod got close enough to whisper into the place it should be SpongeBob’s ear.

“Be more specific.” His voice was deep and low.

SpongeBob clearly shivered, cheeks getting warmer. He didn’t take Squidward’s tentacle from his vision.

The restaurant was dark, and with an additional  something , cold and soft, blocking his view, it made the yellow guy even more aware of his surroundings.

“S-specific?” He asked in a low voice, stuttering.

“Yeah.” Replied Squidward, in a whisper (even though there was no one to listen to), looking at the side of the sea sponge’s head. “What  chance  do you want exactly?”

The question made SpongeBob tremble in embarrassment. He swallowed cold.

Both hands gripped tightly at the already-cooling cup, and the tip of his shoes touched each other again. 

He stuttered before finally having the courage to reply.

His voice was low. 

Lower than a whisper.

“... a dat--” He stopped, shaking his head. “-No, not really…More like a chance to--” He began shyly, but the words left his mouth almost instantaneously once he started spilling them out “--to  prove  there’s still time to mend your broken heart… even if it’s not with me, in the end, I would still be happy that I helped you.” His lips threatened to smile, but his shyness wouldn't allow it.

The sound of rain hitting the restaurant windows and their heavy breathing was the only sound that reigned for the next two or three minutes. In the dark. With the private feeling of confidentiality still running loose inside the boat around them.

Each was either too embarrassed to say anything or extremely conflicted by the fact that it had gone from a poorly financed romantic movie scene to a low-grossing drama.

And yet, no one could speak.

Sitting on the wooden planks of the boat, they both tried to keep their beating hearts under control.

Squidward could feel how much his cheeks were warm. He focused on keeping his hands blocking SpongeBob’s eyes from looking at him (He didn’t know but the yellow guy was thankful that he didn’t because this way he could pretend he wasn’t as embarrassed as he truly was). 

The octopus man analyzed SpongeBob’s natural pores on the side of his head for a moment, thinking desperately about how to get them (himself, mostly) out of that mess.

“My telekinetic powers aren't that powerful,” Squidward replied in the end, to ease the mood. “You’ll have to consult another professional.” He got near the side of his head, aiming for one specific pore.

“Awwwwn, come’on!” Whined the short cook. Somehow upset that the matter had ended so quickly. “Then-then--” He stuttered, thinking about another question easier to be answered. To get back into the pretend. “How about just a date?  One  date.” He raised a finger in the air. “Will I ever get a chance to have a  real   adult-like  date? With an amusement park ride, and a romantic dinner ending in doodidodoo without the other person thinking I have some kind of mental disorder and not wanting to go out with me again?”

First, the cephalopod ignored what the heck he believed doodidodoo stood for, then he focused on that specific point he was studying before and raised the tip of his other hand up, sticking it inside that spot he deduced was SpongeBob’s ear. 

The yellow sponge guy jumped on the stop, taken by surprise. Flinching. Squidward stretched the pore a bit with the tip of his hand and got unnecessarily close, to reply again.

“ Yes .” He whispered against the pore. SpongeBob’s face flushed more and he shivered with how it was hitting his insides. Squidward ignored that he might be also on the indirect question. “But it won't be me or anyone else who is going to introduce you to a person like that.”

The younger man flinched, pressing his shoulder up and trying to push Squidward apart from him. It was getting way too uncomfortable for two guys that weren't even personal friends.

“But I don’t  know  how or if I  can  ever find such rarity on my own!” He exclaimed, embarrassed, frowning against Squidward’s hand pressed over his eyes.

“LISTEN TO MY VOICE!” Squidward screamed against the sponge boy’s ear, deafening him. The boy jumped on the spot completely scared - shouting. “The Woo-Master is speaking now.” He explained, teasingly.

When SpongeBob sat back down on his spot, Squidward stretched his ear-pore again and got his mouth closer, with a grin on his lips. He won't even  deny  that he loved tormenting that little man. 

It was rare that he could  actually  revenge himself, so SpongeBob deserved it. 

But he stopped teasing once he started speaking again.

“I know what you're doing. Just  stop  closing yourself to the possibilities.” His words were slow and low. He wasn’t smiling. It was wholeheartedly advice. Something he  wished  someone had given him when he was younger. “Stop focusing so much on one  crush .” He emphasized the word. “Stop  losing  the chances you have of actually having a  happy  life, because of someone that can't even  make  you happy.”

And with that, Squidward took his hand off SpongeBob’s eyes.

When those blue-crystalline-colored eyes looked up at him, the cephalopod was smiling softly, adjusting himself over his spot inside the boat - like it was all over at once after he said what he wanted to.

SpongeBob gave him one of his most intense stares. But he wasn’t serious like before, and he wasn’t angry or upset. It was just very remarkable. Out of the ordinary.

“And I've seen how you look when you're unhappy and surly like me - it's ugly as hell,” Squidward added teasingly, as a joke, for the sake of making things right between them again.

As ‘ right ’ as it could be, at least.

Then, as a result of his last attempt at being funny, SpongeBob snorted. But gave Squidward his most sweet non-exaggerated smiles in reply, stifling a chuckling.

“Happiness is the best facial cream?” He asked jokingly. Shrugging.

Squidward raised a hand and flickered at SpongeBob’s long nose. It bounced back into place.

“No, it's not.” He grinned, flickering the nose again to try to annoy the young one. SpongeBob’s eyes closed in instinct as he got his nose flickered. “It works just for you, really.”

CRASH!!

Suddenly a loud noise echoed in the restaurant. 

Darkness still covered the entire place.

Both looked at each other and shivered in fright.

“What was that?” Whispered SpongeBob startled.

“It seems to have come from the back.” Commented Squidward.

“S-s-sounded like someone breaking through the window.” The sponge man stuttered, shivering again, completely scared.

“The wind is pretty strong, maybe it broke the glass.”

“What’re we gonna do, Squiddy?” SpongeBob asked in shock, eating his nails out of fear. 

Squidward took the flashlight in his hands.

“You hide in the office.” He ordered, stepping out of the boat in the cashier. “Check if they are going for Mr. Krab’s safe and if so you shout out for help. I'm going to turn the power back on so you press the alarm.” Before his third and fourth legs left the inside of the boat, SpongeBob hugged his left arm.

“Wait! Are you going there by yourself?!” He asked, worried for the well-being of his coworker. “What if it’s a burglary?!” He asked in a rush. “With an eye patch, a sledgehammer, a rope, and a spandex??!”

Squidward arched an eyebrow at him.

“That was weirdly specific.” He tried to get out of SpongeBob’s hug on his left arm. “If I get killed by a guy with an eye patch and a spandex back there, I'll come back to haunt you.” When he tried to free himself but was unsuccessful, he sighed. “Relax,  scaredypants .” He joked, grinning, easing the mood. “It’ll be quick, I’ll just power the place back.” He pressed one of his hands over SpongeBob’s yellow one still clinging to him and added, to secure the younger man. “It might even be one of Plankton’s schemes since he hasn’t done his weekly invasion yet, anyway. Nothing to worry about.”

Finally letting go of his coworker’s arm and stepping out of the boat too, SpongeBob assertively tried to look less scared.

“You are right. I must be overreacting.” He laughed, thinking of how silly he was for the foolish concern. “I’ll wait in the office for the lights, then.” He placed both hands on his hips and started his duty. The clatter of his dress shoes echoed irritatingly on the floor and Squidward pulled his yellow arm back for a second.

“Wait.”

SpongeBob looked up at him, and the cephalopod replied.

“ Barefoot .” He ordered again. “Just in case. You are noisy.”

The yellow sponge quickly took his shoes off so he wouldn’t be easily discovered.

“I’ll be right back.” He said, leaving the hall of the restaurant and entering through the door of the kitchen. 

This was the quickest way to the warehouse (where the noise came from) and the back door with the trash can (also close to where the power box was). He could even try to access it from the outside, but with this rain it would be much less practical and much more uncomfortable.

The back was even darker than the restaurant. Perhaps because of the light natural light through the clouds in the sky. It was already night, so the only light coming was possibly the moon.

Inside the kitchen, he noticed that there was a frying pan on the floor, possibly the same one that SpongeBob had dropped when looking for the flashlight. The octopus gave a small laugh and then entered the warehouse.

Upon entering the warehouse, the cephalopod accidentally stepped on shards of glass that were scattered on the floor, squealing in anger and pain from the stinging cut on his sole.

“ Damnit .” He groaned.

Another noise sounded from inside the same warehouse, a definitely thicker sole of leather boots breaking one of the pieces of glass in its path. It came from the furthest part, and when Squidward raised the flashlight to see who it was - he shivered.

It was definitely  not  Plankton or any of his plans.

Squidward did not  recognize  that person. 

He didn't recognize that frowning face, the scars, and the dead fish eyes. He didn't recognize anyone who wore those robes, had those tattoos and he definitely didn't know anyone who owned a weapon like that.

The flashlight had no effect on blinding this malefactor, and he certainly didn't mind the dark.

The gun pointed at Squidward made him perspire in shock and fear.

He swallowed cold. He wanted to scream for help but didn’t know if it was a wise thing to do.

Maybe it's a common thief, wanting money or stealing groceries for your family in need.

“C-can I help you?” He asked out of despair, not knowing exactly what to ask. Those dead fish eyes were making him sick.

The thief didn't seem too interested in answering him, so instead of explaining what he wanted to do there he kept pointing the gun toward him and unlocked the trigger with a chilling sound.

Squidward Tentacles was not a superstitious person or overly concerned with attracting negative energies. He had been used to his streak of bad luck for years to be what it was -  unchanging .

He suffered many bruises, accidents, and injuries throughout his life. From having a house fall on your head to having your legs blown inside out. He had felt a lot of pain and undergone a lot of trouble in his life (mostly because of SpongeBob too). So one would imagine that maybe he was expecting  this  at some point in his life. But no. He wasn't.

Bikini Bottom was a relatively calm town and without many dangerous events (with the exception of sporadic mass destruction and supervillain attacks). But precisely because of that he considered that kind of situation very difficult to happen. 

Statistically speaking, it was  easier  for you to find Man Ray or Flying Dutchman than to have a gun pointed at your head.

“W-wow wow wow.” Squidward raised both hands in the air, panicking a bit. Trying his best at trying to remain composed. “You can take whatever you want, man. I’ll even bring it to you if you want. Seriously.” He argued. “I don’t even  like  this place.”

“Are you  Squidward Tentacles ?” The evildoer's voice was thick and rough as if there were barbs in his throat. He questioned in a low, sinister tone.

The white, lifeless eyes don't blink.

His silence was a sign that he might have already found what he came looking for.

The octopus took a step back, stomping again on another shard of glass and trying to hold on to the pain below. His entire body shook in trepidation. His back pressed against the wall of the warehouse, and the flashlight dipped slightly on his hands making the atmosphere even more dark and menacing.

He looked like he was  cornered .

“ Yes ?” He asked, worries outstanding from his very-alive eyes.

Whoever that evildoer was was certainly a pro at keeping himself serious and expressionless. In less than a second after hearing the answer, the shooter pulled the trigger and a bullet hit the top of the shoulder of the octopus cornered in the wall. Squidward howled in pain, hand pressed against the place.

The pain was agonizing. Deep and surely he would have to be taken to a hospital as soon as possible.

That is, if he doesn't  die .

Dying by accident had never really crossed his mind. 

Suicide was out of the question  on most  of the loneliest nights, and giving up trying to find comfort with his forced independence was very hard in the beginning - but he never thought about what might happen if he didn't have control and ended up  accidentally  dying.

Without any warning. 

With no time to say goodbye to anyone.

He was put in a place closer to death than he ever was before and he didn’t even know why. And yet, what weighed most on his mind during the three to five-second flash after his life crossed his eyes in a quick movie were just two extremely simple and also very complicated issues to solve at the same time.

Two questions.

One was simple.

Could it be that if he hadn't died now, would he have, at some point in his life, found the will and strength to try to find love again, or would he have seriously died alone with remorse and regret?

The other not so much.

Would his family go to his funeral?

Squidward heard a clang of metal and a howl of pain as the flash of memories faded from his mind. He opened an eye to look at the burglary, in panic, and he noticed that if it hadn't been for the strong hit the shooter took to the head from that old frying pan, maybe he would have struck him squarely in the  chest .

SpongeBob was holding the aforementioned crumpled piece of metal in the air. Its iron now has the shape of the evildoer’s head and the cook was looking at the man laying down on the ground of the warehouse with a big callus on his head. 

The younger man’s breathing was fast and desperate. He looked as panicked as his injured co-worker.

They exchanged a panicked look while doing heavies and ragged inhalation and exhalation.

In less than a second later, Squidward launched himself forward, raising his good hand, opening the power box on the other wall, and pulling the lever at once.

The frying pan slipped from the yellow sponge boy’s hand as he ran into the restaurant again to call the police.

Chapter Text

Some  saint  must have helped them. Or destiny was pranking him into getting his guard down again.

Either way, the rain had momentarily stopped and the police were soon able to reach the restaurant.

Outside Krusty Krabs the siren illuminated the place in red and blue lights. Squidward and SpongeBob were wrapped in blankets, sitting next to the ambulance. They had just reported what had happened and the police were arresting the malefactor inside the warehouse.

The bullet that had hit Squidward's shoulder apparently hadn't hit any vital parts and with first aid from health professionals, he was quickly medicated with pain medicine as well - and also bandaged to keep his arm in a comfortable position until it was able to recover normally.

It didn't take long for Mr. Krabs to show up after SpongeBob called him. Apparently, he was together with Plankton inside the Chum Bucket drinking to “drown the sadness” (totally dramatic).

“Sheldon!” He groaned, drunk, tipsy, a longneck beer in one of his hands. “You took advantage of my frailty to steal my secret formula again?!” He asked, pointing to the other drunk tiny sea creature dragging a can with him.

“HOW?!” He exclaimed, throwing the metal can into Mr. Krabs’s head. It bounced off. “I was with  you  the entire night, you oaf!”

As they both started discussing the possibility that Plankton was involved with the robbery, Squidward mentally wondered again what the hell had happened to him.

Did he almost die, or not?

Was it one of those occasions where he believed was going to be deadly, but in the end, he came out unscathed or at most recovered easily in two or three days?

It felt too real to have been one of those occasions.

The sniper knew his full name, and he looked obstinate. As if that name was who he was looking for. As if killing Squidward was his  goal .

Which didn't make any sense.

Why does that man want him dead if they don't even  know  each other?

Or do they?

Urgh . No. He doesn't know that many people, it's not like he's going to forget that ugly face.

The cephalopod was sitting in the back of the open ambulance, trying to deal with all the information. The bandaged arm closer to his chest.

Also, regardless of everything, the  worst  of it all was Squidward realizing he was  saved  by none other than SpongeBob. His irritating, hyperactive neighbor who's had a never-ending crush on him since puberty and doesn't know what personal space is. The same one he continually tries to harm and outmaneuver out of selfishness, maybe envy, and who always fills him with praise and good energies.

It sounded like a joke in the worst taste of fate.

Like… You almost killed me several times, and now you've saved me. Wow, what a convenient situation. Are we even? No, we're not even. You put me in danger all the time. Sure, okay, you rarely harm me on purpose, and it's not like I don't deserve it sometimes. Do I hold a grudge because of all the other times you pissed me off? Maybe a little — but in my defense, it's because you always come out "winning" in the end, and that’s infuriating. Do I still feel like hitting you? Most of the time, yes, I do. But… you still saved my life today. For  real  this time. And I'm grateful for that. Do I feel like I owe you something? Oh, definitively  no ! And no matter if you use this against me to get a date - you won’t get it.

The quick internal monologue helped him a little bit to control his nervousness.

He hadn't lied about  it  earlier when the lights were out and they'd surprisingly enjoyed some time together that didn't involve pain or screaming—SpongeBob really needs to let go of that crush and get on with his life. 

Squidward wouldn't make him happy. No matter how much he  wanted  that. 

And if he came up with the subject again later, Squidward would go back to arguing his point of view.

"I don't know what went on in there, but he looked like he really wanted to shoot you." The yellow sponge guy explained, moving closer, pulling the blanket over him, and sitting down next to Squidward.

Mr. Krabs and Plankton continued to argue, fighting this time over something else pointless. At least they seemed to be distracting themselves from the sadness of Sandy's joining forces with Karen.

Squidward looked at SpongeBob and sighed.

“I have no idea why, if that’s what you want to know.” He answered him.

SpongeBob hummed worriedly.

When the shooter appeared through the front door - being taken away by the police who were holding him tight - he didn't seem to care much about having been captured. Possibly expected that to happen at one time or another. But before getting into the police cruiser he gave both Squidward and SpongeBob an extremely uncomfortable dead-fish look.

“Do you  know  him?”

The octopus man shook his head, denying.

While one officer took the man to the police vehicle, another one took his cap off and approached the two adults involved with the criminal.

He looked at the stricken cephalopod and its arm expertly bandaged by the medical staff and gave it a look of sympathy and seriousness.

"That guy said your name?” Asked the officer to Squidward.

“Yes, sir.”

Condolence was visible in that man’s facial expression. The octopus man swallowed hard in concern for his own well-being.

“Sorry to alarm you, mister…” The officer told him. “But you might be in trouble." Pointing to the police vehicle, whose siren was still on and illuminating in flash waves of red and blue everyone present outside of the restaurant in that darkness of a cloudy and humid night, the policeman concluded his explanation, sending a shiver down Squidward's spines. “That guy is a hitman.”

SpongeBob jumped to the ground in a surprised and worried manner. His hands pressed against his cheeks in shock.

He sent Squidward (whose eyes were as wide as if someone had told him he was being hunted by a criminal profession that kills people for money, which was literally what happened) his shocked expression, stuttering.

“B-but--But who would do that?!”

His exact thoughts, really.

He was almost a  nobody  compared to many other people. He was nothing more than just a bitter, sullen, uninteresting person with no life expectancy.

What did he have to offer someone who'd decided to pay a hitman rather than confront him?

What does his death have to offer  anyone ?

“Look-” The officer raised a hand to try to calm them down. “You can panic later, now you need to be rational. Whoever wants you dead knows where you work so they might know where you live too.” That did nothing to improve the panicked situation at all. “I'm going to have a squad patrol your residence every night for the next few days until we get a confession from Ernandez about who hired him this time.” That name didn’t fit the Hitman’s image at all. “Until then, the best option would be for you not to be alone.”

Squidward was so scared suddenly about that information that he lost all the capacity to pronounce words.

“He won't.” Said SpongeBob just as quickly. Fists holding the blanket around him. His eyes were as serious as he could manage in the situation being the overly-lively-happy guy he is. “We won’t take our eyes off him, Officer!”

“We?” Asked him, arching an eyebrow and looking at Mr. Krabs and Plankton singing an old song from Frank Stallone. The little one twirling with Mr. Krabs’ bottle of beer like it was his dance partner while the crustacean was laying on the ground, resting, shaking his hips against the sand and hands in the air at the rhythm of the said old pop song. Completing each other's musical sentences as if they were a poorly timed duet.

All three looked at them on the floor.

SpongeBob was mildly concerned.

Squidward sighed, tired and out of patience for it.

And the policeman seemed to be wondering if he should take them both to the police station along with the lawbreaker.

"Well I can call Patrick, we're all neighbors." SpongeBob said, shrugging.

Squidward took advantage that SpongeBob wasn’t far from him to take his slim yellow arm in a grip.

“Please,  don’t .” He begged. “You alone are toilsome enough.”

SpongeBob pressed a hand over his and gave him a nod of the head, accepting the silent invitation.

The officer looked both and put his police cap back on.

“Good, the important thing now is to be safe.” He finished. “I’ll contact you guys if we find anything about who hired him.”

Once he was out of view, entering the police vehicle and taking off. SpongeBob took his hand off Squidward’s one and tried looking into his eyes.

“I’ll close and lock the restaurant so we can go, okay?” He asked.

Squidward looked back at him, waiting, nodding.

But once SpongeBob didn’t reply and didn’t step away from him, the octopus man noticed that he didn’t because  he  hadn't let go of the smaller's yellow arm.

“Oh--” He uttered, releasing it like it was burning.

“I’ll be right back-” SpongeBob tried to assure and ease the mood.

“Just  go .” Insisted the cephalopod, cheeks slightly flushed, waving in the front door’s direction.

Once the Sponge man was out of view he pressed the blanket around him again.

He stared at the two drunken men passed out on the ground, with Plankton using Mr. Krabs’ body as a backrest for support, while the crustacean snored. Bubbles leaving his open mouth.

Squidward took advantage of the free moment he had there, alone, to look again at his bandaged arm and wonder who could have hired an assassin to get rid of him.

Had he pissed someone off that much?

Any  customers ? Any family members? Childhood friend? Ex-boyfriend?

As much as Squilliam liked to rub it in his face how “happy and rich” he was, that man wouldn't have the  heart  to hire an assassin to kill him. It would be completely out of his perfect little-world reality.

Or  was it ?

Maybe he's just lying to himself and Squilliam has never been someone to be trusted. If he’s honest, he does have  full reasons  to believe Squilliam was someone who wouldn't think twice about ordering a random criminal to end up with a nagging headache that may or may not be spoiling his plans -  again .

Did Squidward get in his way again? Was he a nuisance to some of his plans?

A flash of memory about Alaska Wrasses appeared in one of his recent memories and with that, a doubt arose. Maybe the brief conversation he'd had with her in that club had been disastrous for him in some way? And maybe he blames Squidward for that? 

The memory of their dark past relationship has haunted him for years. And the constant presence of that man in his life only brings him even more bitterness to remember that no matter what he does, he could hardly escape it. And no one with a heart would have done what he did. Especially with a loving partner.  Regardless  of what had happened between them.

He didn't want it to be true, but it was.

Squilliam was a suspect. And he couldn't think of anyone else who would want him dead.

He didn't have much more time to think about it before SpongeBob reappeared with the keys and was ready to leave.

“All done!”

“What do we do with those two?” He asked the yellow guy, looking at Mr. Krabs and Plankton.

The sponge man took his phone out of his pocket and dialed Pearl's number.

The ambulance vehicle waited to take them home and also gave Squidward an emergency prescription for pain medication.

Bikini Bottom's public health system was better than you can imagine.

It took off quickly after, leaving SpongeBob and Squidward alone on the path to the cephalopod's home.

It was late at night, and Patrick's snoring could be heard from the street—possibly brought on by yet another who-eat-more competition downtown.

It was not yet dawn, but the dew was starting to get thick with the rainy and cloudy weather. The horizon was covered in fog and the temperature was so low that SpongeBob shivered, hugging his own arms.

“I hope it doesn’t rain again.” Laughed quietly, the yellow guy, easing the mood. “I’ll get some warm clothes, feed Garry and come back in about fifteen minutes, is that okay?” He asked.

“Sure.” Answered Squidward, looking at his coworker shivering, cheeks starting to blush with the harshness of the coldness. Trying to assert authority over his house, he commented with seriousness. “But you’ll sleep on the sofa.”

SpongeBob looked at him with a confused smile.

“Of course. Where else would I sleep, silly?”

And from the answer, the cephalopod realized that he was the only one who had even thought of--  Urgh…

He shook his flushed head.

“Go pick your stuff, I'm not lending you any pillows.” Quickly, he turned to hide the embarrassing slip, gripping his bandaged arm he began to stride.

“Okay!” SpongeBob replied, also striding to his own house.

The eldest entered his house and closed the door. Then he pressed one of his palms to his reddened face and pulled it down to try to make it go away.

"What the hell was I thinking?"

He stared into the inner part of his living room. The sofa, the stairs, the kitchen, the dining table…

And then the darkness and silence started to become worrying.

He turned on the light. Instinctively. He started staring at the corners and shadows, but thankfully there was nothing there. It was all perfectly normal as he had left. 

Except for his nerves.

He lost strength in all his legs. He sat on the couch. His entire body began to shake even more.

The situation was finally sinking in again.

He stared at himself in the reflection of the off-screen television. He had dark circles under his eyes. The crow's feet were already apparent. His physique was not the best, he was pre-diabetic and now with a broken arm...

“Squidward Tentacles…” He whispered to himself. “You’re forty-three, man… if things continue like this you won’t make it to fifty.” Throwing the weight of his back on the back of the sofa, he stared at the ceiling.

And then, his own voice replied to him. 

“ So   what  ?” The reflex on the television screen asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Squidward looked down at it, stunned. Was this supposed to be some sort of delusion or internal argument brought on by pro-traumatic stress?

“... what?” He asked back.

“What if I don’t make it to fifty?” It asked again. “Why does it  matter ?”

“W-what do you--” He straightened his back to stare at his mocking reflex. “What do you mean by  ‘why does it matter ? I don’t want to  die  yet!”

“Oooh,  right - Because your life is  wonderful , isn’t it?” It replied, looking even more sarcastic and spiteful. “It’s almost like the  dream  you’ve had since you were twenty. Feeling lonely during weekends, eating unhealthy food all the time, getting grumpy at nothing, having zero energy to go out, following horrible sleeping schedules, working on a poorly paid job, no courage to invest in any average artistic skills you might have whatsoever, and highly doubtful sexual preferences -  nailing it .”

Squidward gapped at his own reflex insults. Getting pissed at it.

“What the  hell --?” The cephalopod asked, angry. “Look, I lost  everything  when that dream was  ripped off  of me by the same hands that were holding mine when I created it!! I tried the  best  I could to keep the blaze alight, okay?! I’m just… tired of failing over and over again!!” He tried to defend himself. “This isn’t the best, but it’s  something , isn’t it?! I’m not… as depressed as before, at least.” 

The reflex on the television stood up from the couch, pointing at him.

“You're not as depressed as before because you're constantly holding on to a worse  feeling:  hypocrisy .” The cephalopod didn't want to hear that. He knew what was to come, after all that reflex was his own subconscious tired of being pushed aside. He groaned, pressing his eyes to close. Trying to close his ears. “You fill your mouth to criticize SpongeBob about self-sabotage, but you are the person who most does it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up!” It was ridiculous, but he was feeling his eyes water. “Enough of self-criticism! I almost  fucking  died !”

“EXACTLY!!” Shouted his own voice. “You almost died, and the first things that went through your head were  what  ?!” It asked again, replying to his own question a second later. “Your LIFE and your FAMILY. Don't you think that's a  sign ?!”

“A sign of  what ?” He asked exasperated, frustrated.

“Of your damn  life choices !!” It screamed, and his loud voice echoed in his own head. “You criticize your family for abandoning you - but you didn't even  call them back  when they tried the first contact, did you?” Squisward’s eyes watered more. “You say you're lonely, but you're surrounded by people who like you - people you purposely avoid to keep complaining about  loneliness .”

His hands were so tight on his head as he cried that he barely heard his name called. And yet that voice, inside his head, in his subconscious still spoke.

“Stop calling yourself a loser, a victim, unmotivated and hopeless - What holds you back has a more appropriate name, and you  know  what it is .”

And then a warm hand, from outside that fight, landed on his shoulder. 

The pressure was real. Squidward opened his eyes in a startled, heavy breath, and when he looked straight ahead — that pair of wide, worried blue eyes were staring at him.

For a silent second, the cephalopod continued to stare at that yellow skin and blue eyes as if he couldn't tell whether or not he was part of the illusion.

And then he spoke.

“Squidward? Are you okay?” 

SpongeBob’s concerned words took him out of it. He looked back at the yellow guy wearing pajamas, carrying a pillow and a blanket, and shook his head.

He straightened his back and started rubbing his hands against his moistened eyes.

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” He lied, standing from the sofa.

His legs were weak, but he managed to coordinate them. He turned toward the stairs — it was late, and he seriously needed to  black out  for a few hours.

“Are you sure?” SpongeBob asked, throwing his things into the sofa and following him. “If you feel restless we can-- I don’t know, watch some movie?”

Squidward stopped with a hand on the rail of the stair. He took a deep sniffle to forget about that insane self-criticism and with his back to the sponge guy he replied.

“Thanks, SpongeBob. I... appreciate your effort in wanting to help me now.” He said, with honesty, not facing him. “But I really need to turn off my head before it gets worse.”

The yellow one stood in place, as the cephalopod climbed to the second floor. He wasn't sure what he meant by 'get worse', but he respected it.

“Sure buddy… Sleep well!”

When the bedroom door closed, the youngest took a deep breath and took a small control with two buttons from his pocket. He walked to the window and then squeezed one of them.

Something biped.

Electric fences and barbed wire suddenly appeared around the house.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” Narrowing his eyes, he crept away from the window.

The next morning, SpongeBob was (obviously) the first to wake up. He made sure several times that the perimeter around the house was secure and then deactivated the security alarm before Squidward could see — after all, he hadn't asked permission to install those things there the night before.

He would have, but... Squiddy looked so…  vulnerable .

No wonder, certainly being hunted by someone must not be the most pleasant thing in the world.

That was why he couldn't give up cheering him up. That was his role as a friend - to watch over the well-being of the other. And Squidward needed attention and affection and company more than ever. He needed to feel safe and well-liked.

So, SpongeBob decided to prepare him the  best  breakfast EVER !

He straightened the sofa and began to cook. She made fresh bread and toasted the stale one. He prepared pate, jam, and hazelnut cream. He brewed fresh coffee. He made scrambled eggs. And he organized the table with butter, milk, cheese, and derivatives.

He arranged the cutlery and cups as neatly as he could remember. And even fold the napkins in the shape of jellyfish.

When he was done, he smiled excitedly at the result and then decided to head upstairs - meeting Squidward in the middle, coming down to the kitchen.

“Goooood~ Morning!” Greeted SpongeBob. He yawned in reply, and his face, as usual, was scowling. “I know you will probably kick me out of here as soon as you can, but,  look! ” He slipped on the rail and when he jumped to the ground he pointed in the direction of the table with both hands. “I prepared you the  best  breakfast I could!” And with that said, he took a deep breath in and waited for the response.

Squidward tied his robe tighter around his body and walked down the stairs to look at it.

The breakfast table was  shining bright .

He tried blocking the light with a hand. Squidward’s newly awakened eyes had to adjust to the abrupt clarity of it. But once he got used to it he began to notice the wonderful manual work that his neighbor had done. 

It brought a sincere smile off his grumpy face. 

Last night was  awful . His arm still hurt even though the meds were helping a lot. 

He couldn't remember the last time someone else was kind enough to do that for him.

“ Perfect , isn’t it?” SpongeBob playfully commented, making his eyebrows dance. Then he laughed and walked back to the sofa to pick up his stuff. “I’ve also cleaned all the kitchenware I used, so no worries.” Once he held it all he went straight to the front door. “I called Pearl and she told me that Mr. K and Plankton are still in an alcoholic coma, so if you need me I'll be home.” Squidward looked at him, confused about what he was doing. Then, SpongeBob opened the door. “-or at Patrick’s! Or, you know, in your front yard doing something crazy as usual. But I'm  not  going far, so just scream my name if you need any--!”

Then, Squidward held the door open, looking down at his surprised face.

“Where are you  going ?” He asked, frowning an eyebrow.

SpongeBob stared back at him.

“Well, you always say you hate to see me at your house for too long, and always insist that our dinners were merely  exceptions , so I thought--”

Raising one of his hands in the air, he asked for silence. When SpongeBob stopped speaking he moved that same hand toward the inside of the house.

The yellow guy took it as an order so he entered again.

Squidward closed the door once he was inside. 

The cephalopod made the sponge man drop his belongings back on the couch. Then he dragged the other adult toward the breakfast table.

“S-Squiddy?” SpongeBob asked when he was in front of a chair. “Are you sure? You usually like to eat alone.”

Seriously, last night was  awful . His arm still hurt even though the meds were helping a lot. He couldn't remember the last time someone else was kind enough to do breakfast for him. And all that he honestly  least  wanted right now was to be alone thinking about how stingy, mean, and ignorant he was towards that kind neighbor.

“Yeah, but this isn't one of those days, okay? Just… stay and eat with me.” He replied, sitting on another chair and looking at all the beautiful goods. “Everything looks delicious, thank you.”

And after praising, he began to serve himself.

And SpongeBob started to get  visibly  worried.

Inside his own yellow head, a monologue began to play out, some fanciful little versions of him argued at a central table about what might have happened the night before to ignite that softness, and in the midst of it a wild passionate version insisted on wanting to push the giant red button called "fall for the bait" while being held by another, more realistic version of him, wearing glasses and an identification button described as ‘self-esteem’.

“You’re welcome…” In the end, he replied in a very low voice and slightly flushed cheeks.

Squidward took a piece of toast and buttered it while glancing at the smaller adult out of the corner of his eye. SpongeBob still seemed to stand still, staring at him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

Heaving a sigh, the cephalopod picked up his cup and pointed it at the chef.

“Could you serve me some coffee, please?”

He purposely tried to emphasize that the request was innocent, and then, finally, the yellow one cracked a smile.

SpongeBob picked up the thermos to serve him while grinning.

“I made it bitter and unsweetened, just the way you like it!” 

That cheerful, easygoing voice was sweet enough to accompany the coffee.

“Very  neighborly  of you.” Squidward thanked in his own way, trying to joke about it.

SpongeBob laughed.

For some reason, he likes his humor.

Then, SpongeBob served himself a cup, throwing 6 spoons of sugar on it. Squidward’s eyes twitched. How the hell was  he  the pre-diabetic one?

Someone's phone started to ring.

The ringtone wasn't the same ringtone Squidward remembered putting on his phone - but even if it was, he doubted it would be his. No one would call him early in the morning.

Looking at the cell phone screen, the sponge man's eyes widened in surprise.

“It’s my parents.” He said. 

Squidward stopped middle-crunching on a toast. 

They looked at each other.

SpongeBob threatened to press the answer button.

Squidward shook his head - telling him to  not  do it.

The sponge guy shrugged, apologizing - answering it.

“‘Morning, Dad!” Squidward groaned but the cheerful voice of Mr. Squarepants on the other side of the line made him stop. Better not let him know they are eating breakfast together. “How’s it going?” Harold's voice was too muffled for the cephalopod to hear what he was talking about. “We are better now.” He tried not to look at the octopus. “Except for the shoulder that got shot.”

The octopus looked at the sea sponge angrily, speaking in a whisper, with barely no sound just so the other man could understand his question.

“ Why did you tell your parents ?!”

SpongeBob held a finger to the speaker to answer him.

“Why wouldn't I tell?” He shrugged. “Technically I was there too. If the frying pan idea had gone wrong, I could have been dead along with you. I will not hide it from them.” And then SpongeBob was back on the phone. 

Squidward frowned, noticing for the first time he was  right . He wasn’t the only one in danger there. He may have been the main target, but having SpongeBob with him back at the Krusty Krab, he was as likely to be shot down as the octopus.

Stopping to speak again, the yellow guy turned to Squidward a second later, handing the device to the cephalopod. 

“They are very worried about you.” Said, indicating that they want to speak to him.

Squidward pointed to himself.

SpongeBob nodded.

The older fish took the device, but for some reason, he was worried and scared as he stared at it.

“They just want to hear you say you are doing fine,” SpongeBob said patiently, sipping his coffee, trying to calm him down. “It will be fast.”

Holding the phone to his ear, he finally decided to answer.

“Good Morning, Harold.” He greeted.

The old adult's voice on the other end of the line began to sound so loud that he had to move the speaker away.

“SQUIDWARD, SON, YOU OKAY?!” 

The happy, emotional, concerned, and affectionate tone, calling him 'son' so openly that made him feel a twinge in his chest and a lot of shame. Squidward had agreed to be an accomplice in the lie, but that was too  brazen . If SpongeBob heard it or not, he hid it very well and continued to sip his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He noticed he was on speakerphone, for some reason, but he ignored it thinking it might be so Margaret could hear it too. “My arm shall heal by the end of the week. And overall, everything else is okay.” Octopuses regenerate quickly, not as much as sponges, but if it weren't for that, they would have died a long time ago. “But… thanks for calling.”

The other end of the line went silent for a second before Margaret's voice came through.

“We are very happy to hear about it. We  all  got madly worried.” 

It might have been Squidward's impression, but when she referred to everyone, it seemed like she included  more  people in it.

“I appreciate the concern. It was scary and dangerous, but thanks to your son I survived.” He glanced at SpongeBob, who had stopped munching on some toast and tried to smile through jam-smeared teeth.

Harold came back.

“It must have been  awful . Look, son, if you need  anything  just ask, alright? You're part of our family now, and we all take care of each other.”

He held his breath on instinct. At that, not just his chest stung, but his entire nervous system shook, and he began to feel his hands tremble.

Wow…

… getting family support is so nice.

He felt his face smile.

“Thank you guys, you are amazing.” And even though he almost died the day before, that conversation had been one of the best moments of his life.

And so, they said goodbye. 

Squidward ended the call and handed the phone back to his neighbor who was making a scrambled eggs, cheese, ham, tomato, and oregano sandwich.

He kept watching as he finished.

SpongeBob offered him a bite.

It didn't look apathetic. It looked like something he would never have taken the initiative to eat in his life. It was totally out of his comfort zone.

Yet, he accepted.

It was delicious.

Squidward decided at that moment that... It was time for him to start trying new things or he would regret dying before fifty.

Chapter Text

It was around three pm when Eugene decided to get in touch with them again.

“I shouldn't have opened the restaurant that day.”

Squidward sent SpongeBob a look that could be translated to ‘did you see?’.

“From today on I'm superstitious again.” Mr. Krabs said. “No more work on municipal holidays.”

They were sitting in Squidward's front yard, on beach chairs - well, the cephalopod was sitting on one, SpongeBob was digging in the sand to make a trap.

“Good to know you care,” Squidward replied, serving himself another cup of the cold juice prepared by the hardworking chief cook. It was with kale, orange, and something different that he didn't remember - he had gone all-in with the idea of trying new things.

“Of course, I care!” Mr. Krabs replied, waving his own cup of juice in his hands around. “I can't let my guard down in Plankton's presence and expect him not to try anything nefarious!!”

“But that hired killer wasn't his plan, was it?” Asked SpongeBob, about three feet under the ground. The other two looked at him wiping sweat out of his forehead. “What benefit would he get from wanting to specifically kill Squidward instead of asking him for the secret formula?”

Mr. Krabs narrowed his old eyes.

“The nefarious plan wasn't to steal my secret formula!” At first, his response was so serious that both the other men stared, hoping that he really was going to conclude this with a valid theory. But it was not the case. “The nefarious plan was to get me drunk !”

And, as he emphasized, he ended up spilling some of his drink.

Squidward rolled his eyes and drank some more of his juice.

SpongeBob pulled himself out of the hole and stuck the shovel in the ground. He was dirty, wearing overalls instead of his usual uniform.

It almost sounded like summer vacation. But it was just any Tuesday.

“Why do you think that? You've been drunk together before.” SpongeBob pointed it out.

Mr. Krabs pointed a finger (claw?) to him.

His expression was one of extreme seriousness.

“When I woke up this morning, he was sleeping in my bed.”

Squidward and SpongeBob looked at each other in silence.

Then, the yellow guy decided to ask.

“... so what? Aren't you childhood friends?”

Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes even more (if possible) as if he was trying to get even more serious.

“I think you did not understand. He was sleeping on my bed and I was sleeping on the floor ! He's trying to crack my thick shell!” He exclaimed, spilling juice again by pressing it hard on the armrest of the chair and hitting his chest, making the noise echo. No one could say whether he was being literal or figurative. “I never did that before! I would never feel the need to be a gentleman, polite or affectionate to that damn walking pickle !”

That was a valid point, but surely there was a good reason.

“Maybe you passed out on the floor first, or he knocked you over?” Offered Squidward.

But then SpongeBob came up with an even more plausible reason.

“Well, he must have been pretty devastated, I mean, his wife dumped him - I think that would make anyone very sad.”

The crustacean looked at him and then began to remember why they had started drinking and why they had drunk so much.

“Oh, yeah, I remember now… he was crying .” And then Mr. Krabs dropped his frown and began to look worried.

“For a legitimate reason.” Squidward pointed it out, just to mock him.

“But if getting me drunk wasn't part of the plan, why would he drink with me?”

SpongeBob got himself a cup of fresh and cold juice while replying.

“To make his company while drowning in grief and sorrow?” 

And then, Mr. Krabs realized that MAYBE he really was wrong. 

Maybe Plankton just needed a friend. And as much as fate had kept them apart all these years, their rivalry was the closest to a friendship that Plankton has.

“Hmmm, you might be right, I've divorced before too, I could give him some advice ."

Squidward shook his head, well-humored. 

“... nah , he probably just wants a shoulder to cry on.”

“I need to stop by the restaurant before dusk anyway, I think I'll pop over there and give him some pointers.”

Again, Squidward was inclined to refute - but he didn’t raise his voice, he was pretty chilled out at the moment to argue against anyone’s silly ideas. A leg over another, a glass in a hand, and sunglasses on his face - total easygoing . He could even argue that SpongeBob was drugging him with that juice, but it was most likely the painkillers.

“He'll think you're making fun of him but go for it.” He shrugged, back resting on the chair.

Mr. Krabs turned to drink all the content of his cup and placed it over the little table.

“Well, I must leave now. Good to know you two are doing well. It was a damn scary night.” He rose from his chair, dusting sand off his pants. “Free hamburgers being handed out, and a thunderstorm burning light fuses! Glad the police helped, ain’t me right?”

And off he went, down the road, whistling.

Both Squidward and SpongeBob looked at Mr. Krab until he disappeared.

And so the little yellow man decided to speak, not taking his eyes out off the horizon.

“Why do I get the impression he has no idea what actually happened?”

Squidward snorted, replying.

“He's going to have a heart attack when he sees the broken window.”

And then, as if the place couldn't be worse for a new attack, a bus came down the street and stopped on the other side. A hooded figure got out and stared at them as the bus continued on its way.

SpongeBob grabbed the shovel and threatened to use it as a weapon. Squidward thanked heaven for the pain medicine, otherwise, he would be having a panic attack. In the front yard? Seriously ?!

“I dug a hole and I'm not afraid to bury someone in it!” The yellow guy shouted. Mad .

For some reason, Squidward decided to hide behind him - even if the difference in size didn't help at all. 

If they could combine their strength they still wouldn't take down a new hitman.

And then the hooded figure approached.

“I've just decided to start living again, I can't die yet!!” The cephalopod said.

SpongeBob ran towards the assassin, holding the shovel in both hands above his head and proclaiming a war cry (which should have been threatening but obviously wasn't). Squidward stretched out his arms and decided to hold him in place (The injured arm wasn't fully healed yet so that ended up hurting a little.)

“Don't do that, you imbecile - it's me they want!”

The little yellow man tried to disengage. Squidward ended up having to hug him from behind.

“I will protect you!” SpongeBob tried to argue, not making too much force to not hurt him.

“I don't want you to die for me, are you crazy ?”

There were several, countless reasons why he wouldn't let SpongeBob attack his enemy, trying to defend him to the death - and one of them was because of their parents.

They didn't deserve it!

But then, seeing the scene unfold, the cloaked figure removed its hood to show its face.

It wasn't a murderer.

It was a woman. Green, shiny, pretty. Purple-painted lips, gold hoop earrings, and a dazzling smile.

It was Alaska Wrasses .

“Sorry if I startled you, guys.” She apologized, getting closer.

Squidward, who was squeezing the younger to his chest by both caution and instinct, released his neighbor ignoring the embarrassment feeling.

They both stared at her with a mixture of surprise and relief.

“Wrassy??! You scared us!!” SpongeBob said, dropping the shovel. “I almost attacked you!!”

The woman gave a sweet laugh while apologizing.

“Do I look like a robber?” She asked playfully, pulling the end of the robe to show she was wearing long colorful pants and sandals. “My bad, I'm taking part in a dramatic play and I came straight before I changed.” She explained. “My role is that of an evil maestro, hence this outfit.” She twirled in the spot, making the cape swing.

SpongeBob was awed, admiring it.

Squidward grinned excitedly. 

“Ohmygod, Is it a retelling of 'Underwater Melodies'? I love this piece!!” His eyes sparkled.

"You know it??!" Her eyes also sparkled. "My team brought up the idea, and it's really great." She deepened her voice and started acting amateurishly just for Fun. “ Play louder, for God is not listening. ” She raised both hands in the air, and as if holding a conductor's baton in her hand, she recited another one of her lines. “ And you'll soon want him to send you help .”

Squidward joined her.

“ For thy song doesn't reach the sun. ” He took off his sunglasses (which were askew around his face) and spoke up, the following lines of the play he very well remembers. “ It ends, today, with thee, in the underwater. ”

Then, the light dimmed and roses were thrown at their feet.

SpongeBob clapped his hands, whistling, representing the audience.

Alaska started laughing out loud and Squidward did too.

“This was AWESOME!” The little yellow man commented.

“Yeah!” She nodded, smiling at the cephalopod. “You should try out for the play next time, too bad all roles have already been filled or I could try to fit you in.” And she winked, friendly.

Squidward gaped at her, lost for words to reply.

“Aww thank you, Wrassy!” SpongeBob raised his own voice to say it for him. “You are so kind!”

“Don't mention it - Oh! ” Then, suddenly, she remembered something important, laughing at her own clumsiness. “Right, I actually have a reason for coming here.”

And then she took a crumpled pamphlet from her pocket. Uncrushing it as she explained.

“I decided to take your advice the last time we spoke and I went to talk to Squilliam.” When the name was brought up on the subject, Squidward's good mood dimmed considerably. SpongeBob couldn't help but notice. But she soon continued with the subject she had begun. “And I can't believe it, but it worked !”

And then she handed the crumpled pamphlet to the cephalopod. The yellow neighbor, curious as always, stretched his neck to read along with him - Squidward allowed.

On the flyer, there was a clarinet symbol and the words: ‘Audition for background players .'

“The festival is coming up, I know it's crazy--” And as she explained, the eyes of the other two present just lit up even more. “--but I've decided to include three more clarinetists for a special short solo that I've been preparing. It will be a sequence of solo instruments, and the clarinet will play between the flute and the trumpet.” It sounded like a good plan. To give an air of autonomy, and focus and guarantee visibility to all instrumentalists involved in the orchestra. “Anyway, the audition is next Friday if you want to enroll.”

For a moment, the first thing Squidward did was smile and start imagining himself on stage again, playing alongside other talented people. And then came the sad reality: his shoulder .

And his hope shattered into a million pieces again.

But SpongeBob was ready, with a scoop and broom in hand - ready to pick up all the shards.

“Of course, he will!!” The yellow guy exclaimed, looking from the woman to his sad and shattered Squidward. “Don't worry, buddy, I got you! I have a plan!” He winked, and the cephalopod really wanted to believe he did.

“Oh, that’s great!” Alaska replied, just as glad. “Hmm, also… there's this one tiny detail…” She brought two fingers together as if she were holding something small and invisible, sizing up the problem that should have been small if it wasn’t the biggest of them all, seriously. “Squilliam is one of the judges at the audition.”

And the times when everything seemed to fall apart became more and more frequent and endless. The cephalopod sighed.

That’s it. Again. The f*cking shit hitting the fan. The damn unlucky biting his butt. The crappy karma reminds him why he can’t have good things .

He would go up on that stage and automatically be disqualified, ridiculed, and if there was a chance, he bets they would attack tomatoes on him.

That’s it. 

There’s no way he's going.

And then, SpongeBob smiled at him.

“No problem!” Exclaimed excitedly.

Squidward looked at him like he had grown two heads. 

WHAT?! 

He said as if that wasn't proof enough that none of his efforts would yield a positive result. He was doomed to failure. Sure, SpongeBob didn't know the full history but they’d known each other for quite enough time for him to know why this was a very bad idea for the (extremely low) self-esteem of the cephalopod.

Looking at the expression of complete abandonment, surprise, and panic on his neighbor's face, the little yellow man took the pamphlet from his hands and kept it.

“Thank you, Wrassy! Squidward will be there, and he’ll show you all how great he plays.”

He said, looking at Alaska with determination in his eyes.

She smiled back at him, eyes on fire.

“Hmmm, fierce , I love it!” The woman laughed, hearing the sound of another bus approaching the stop. “Perfect, I’ll see you guys next Friday!”

And then she turned back, covering her face with her black hood - stopping across the street.

Little could be seen beneath that shadow on her face before the bus stopped, and when she disappeared the first thing Squidward could do was curse his friend.

“Why the heck did you promise that ?!” He raised his voice, spitting out his anger. “I don't even know if I'll be able to recover by then!”

SpongeBob sat in the beach chair that Mr. Krabs was an hour ago and picked up his glass of juice again.

“You shouldn't give up so easily.” He started, and somehow he sounded less lunatic than usual. “I said I had a plan: First, we will go to Sandy’s. She always has something that might help get your arm back on its feet - not literally. Second, you've always wanted to play in the spring orchestra and even memorized how to play it, you can't let this opportunity pass you by.”

The cephalopod stared at the other boy, not knowing how to argue. Or rather, not coming up with a good enough excuse for not going.

“Also…” SpongeBob continued, avoiding eye contact. “Squilliam is one against many, and I bet you will do such a good job he’ll feel obliged to clap for you.” 

Those kind words... sent a shiver down the older man's back.

He stared in surprise at his neighbor who purposely kept looking the other way.

And then something soft and warm started to spread inside his chest.

He tried to smile.

“... do you think I can do it?” Squidward asked, in a low, barely audible voice.

SpongeBob looked back into his eyes. Blues against reds. He raised his glass of juice in the air for Squidward to toast.

“Don’t you?”

Snorting a (self-conscious) laugh, Squidward sighed, dropped his tense shoulders, and took his glass in hand again - toasting it.

“I guess this is something else I need to start changing.”

Again, who said this would be a good idea to ask help from Sandy?

Oh, right, SpongeBob did.

Squidward should have known it better than to believe it was a good plan.

He was now strapped into an operating chair, with a squirrel wearing a scrubs, mask and a blowtorch right beside him.

“Is that really necessary?” He asked, sweating buckets.

“Oh, no, this is not for you, silly. Don't worry.” Sandy replied, lowering the blowtorch to the chair he’s sitting on. He could see dark circles under her brown eyes. “I haven't used this chair in a while, it's about to fall off. The election campaign is taking up all my time. I'll just correct this little problem before we get started ‘cause of precision and all.”

Letting out the breath he was holding, the cephalopod felt relief. For a very short time, tho. Almost record time. Because right after the sponge man appeared holding a mechanical arm and asking.

“Is this the one?”

Sandy looked over her shoulder and smiled.

“Yep. Put it down there with the chainsaw, please.”

Squidward jumped up from the chair, shaking his head and pressing his arm against his side. He took steps away as he complained.

“You guys are crazy ! I don't want a new arm!”

Sandy turned off the torch and rested a hand impatiently on her hip. Totally no patience for fearful people.

“This is the most practical and fastest method I have.” And, as if it mattered, she started listing the main benefit points her prototype had. “It is surgical metal, hypoallergenic, and you'll get used to it quickly.”

“I do not care! You will not rip off my arm!”

SpongeBob, in defense of his neighbor, also spoke out.

“To be honest, I'd rather you didn't rip his arm off either.”

Sandy groaned a heavy sound, dropping things on the table and rolling her eyes. 

The glass dome with no water inside, where the squirrel lived, was in terrible shape. The grass was tall. The tree needed pruning. The wooden picnic table and benches were littered with papers. Karen was there too, wearing (unnecessarily) stylish red glasses, and seemed to be talking to someone on speakers with rudeness and assertiveness.

Apparently they were both living together now.

“What do you want? Occupational therapy ?” Sandy asked, visibly tired - exhausted even. She looked like she was close to turning into someone else. Certainly the pressure of executing a plan to win the election was tough. “Look, I don't have that much time or resources to do something new for you guys. I have a huge to-do list--”

“ Say no more .” SpongeBob replied, sticking his hand upward and grinning.

Squidward groaned, turning around and leaving. He knew what was going to come and he wanted no part on this.

“Leave it to us!” Reaching out with a yellow arm, he grabbed the back of Squidward's shirt, pulling him back to where they were. “We're going to start your to-do list to buy you time. So you can think of something that might help Squidward fully recover in time for the audition!”

“You would really do that for me?” And then the squirrel woman's semblance of exhaustion began to melt out of that face and a vibrant smile appeared in its place. She was absolutely grateful and excited to know that she would have such important help. “Oh, guys. Thank you so much! You are awesome .”

In a low tone of voice, the cephalopod tried to complain. But he stopped, knowing that deep down, technically, SpongeBob didn't even have an obligation to help him and Sandy was just trying to live the best she could by following a dream with many crumbles and stress.

The yellow man looked at him, waiting.

Squidward sighed.

“Yeah, whatever.”

SpongeBob perked up, looking at Sandy, nodding in agreement.

She didn't wait any longer. 

Whistling at the female computer a few feet ahead, Sandy caught its eye. Karen turned to her and then the squirrel shouted.

“Sugarplum, can you print half of that public service list, please?”

A public service list is NOT a to-do list of priorities.

Squidward doubts Sandy would be doing any of that herself.

“All I wanted was to take advantage of my sick leave to stay at home, but nooooo --” He complained, irritated about his situation, to a random man sitting on a bench while he blew the leaves off the main square’s walking path. It was still autumn, so the ground was practically covered in orange and yellow dead leaves. “--I HAD to be here doing charity, had I not? Handing out flyers , putting up posters , painting crosswalks and cleaning the damn square!”

No, seriously, why the hell was he doing all of this? The list had so many volunteer jobs that Squidward would never have to pray his way to heaven again. Beach sand cleaning (done), Algae planting (done), Curb and street painting (done), Free pet neutering (absolutely no way ), Assist in the oral health treatment of beggars (not in this lifetime) - it all had been exhausting , even though SpongeBob did most of it. Handing out flyers was annoying enough because obviously nobody wanted it .

And now this!  

Clear the main square’s park, due to the autumn season.

Shouldn’t he be resting ? Wouldn't that make his arm worse ?

Urgh… at least it was a leaf blower and not a rake.

The square was wide and many trees beautified it all. It was close to the municipal library and the city hall. With a fountain in the middle and a gazebo on the other side where some people liked to make artistic presentations. The walking trail wasn't huge, but it was pretty and popular, lots of people enjoyed walking there, and the street lights lit up the entire park when the sun went down.

Kids, snails and sea slugs, or even pet mussels were taken there to walk. They love it.

Squidward also used to love it.

He remembered how that park used to be, many years ago, on those occasions he spent a few days sleeping in it - it was better now. Older, but better too. (The place or him?)

He looked up.

It was already getting late.

The random person he talked to was too busy eating ice cream and ignoring him, so the cephalopod just continued blowing the leaves away - the sooner he finished the better.

Where was SpongeBob anyway?

He looked around the park until he found the yellow man. He was painting the white gazebo on the other side.

“Oy, SpongeBob!” He called. But the yellow man was too concentrated on something, studying something embedded in the wood of a pillar. Up to now, he was singing something while doing so and suddenly he stopped, that’s probably why Squidward had almost lost sight of him.

It was also decorated for the season: old and worn like a dead tree. People frequently nail things into its wood, and attach padlocks to the holes as a sign of undying love. If Sandy wins the election, the best thing would be to just tear it down and build a new one.

Squidward waited but the yellow one didn’t reply.

He approached, already having finished his part of the job.

As he got closer he noticed that SpongeBob was wiping his eyes.

He got suddenly worried. He placed the blower on the floor and softly rested a hand on the younger's head.

“You okay?” Squidward asked.

SpongeBob felt the warmth of the older man's hand on his head and looked up, finally noticing his presence. He jumped in surprise, but then he smiled, shaking away the redness on his cheeks. 

He looked ashamed.

“I'm fine, it was a silly thought.” He replied, laughing.

“A sad one?” Squidward asked, still concerned. It wasn’t rare for SpongeBob to cry, but that was weird either way.

Taking the white brush in his right hand, SpongeBob finished painting the pillar as he explained.

“When I turned twenty-two I promised myself that one day I would carve my initials in these woods too - and I tried it, once, with that ex-boyfriend of mine from 2018. I was so happy at the time, but, in a way, I'm glad I didn't do it?” SpongeBob explained,  painting over all the flaws made by lovers who vandalized the public infrastructure. “They say this kind of commitment is for life.”

Squidward frowned his eyebrows in deep seriousness and replied.

“This is superstitious bullshit .” Seeing the stunned face of the small yellow man, he climbed the steps and entered the gazebo, calling him over. SpongeBob did. “Don't be fooled by these things. No one is in control of your love life but yourself.” And, without needing to explain further, he pointed to a spot on the third pillar from the inside. A scratched and erased stain so that nothing and no one could read again the initials that once were there.

Staring at the stain, SpongeBob could see a strong attempt of erasing the mark of a heart wrapped around it too.

He lifted a finger and touched the wood.

“You know…” He began, in a low voice. Squidward was already walking down the stairs when it caught his attention. “I heard Sandy say once that octopuses have 3 hearts, so you still have two chances left.”

The sun on the horizon was setting, painting the sky with gradients of different warm and vibrant colors - blue, purple, pink, orange and red. The streetlights were starting to go up. People packed up their things to leave. 

But Squidward stood there, looking at him.

The shade inside the gazebo helped SpongeBob hide the still rosy color in his cheeks - now redder.

Taking a deep breath in, Squidward took the leaf blower and turned it on, aiming the wind against SpongeBob's direction. The yellow one tried to defend himself, laughing at the sudden attack.

“Sorry sorry.” Apologized.

He knew that Squidward didn't like it when he was that direct, but sometimes the filter doesn't work very well and he ends up saying things from the heart without thinking much about them. It was a small flaw of his.

To his surprise, however, when he lowered his arm and walked back, he noticed the older man's flushed face. Just as his, if not more.

His red eyes stared at SpongeBob as if he was trying to figure something out. Like a puzzle. The cook stood quietly on the top step, watching him back. The size difference being resolved by the distance they were.

His injured shoulder reminded Squidward of the internal argument he had with himself right after the accident. About new chances and new choices. 

About having a life worth living.

“You are right.” Squidward replied, thinking deeply. If he's trying to focus on improving his life, he can't ignore the fact that relationships are part of this new experience - even if serious long-term relationships aren't a priority. “I mean, biologically speaking too, but figuratively speaking - I still have two hearts to break, right? I shouldn't be afraid to use them.” 

SpongeBob looked struck by it, but then he smiled and replied.

“It's like you said to me before. To not close myself off to possibilities .”

The cephalopod felt weird to get his own advice back to him, but he smiled back, using (again) the humor to shrug it off as usual.

“Yeah, it would be a waste for other middle-aged men who like classical music and mulled wine.”

The yellow man opened his mouth, breathing deep and raising a finger up intending to reply with something that possibly hadn't previously passed through a filter, but Squidward pressed the button again, blowing air into SpongeBob’s face. The nose bounced up and the cheeks puffed into a very ugly grimace. 

But then, he started laughing, getting away from it.

“This tickles .” He said, trying to avert the wind by walking down the steps and running.

Squidward smirked, raising the potency of the equipment the maximum he could and running after him.

In the background, a hooded shadow, hidden behind a nearby tree, watched them both run past, laughing and having fun. The dark figure lifted a phone to its ear and disappeared again.

“Oh-WOW! You guys have done a lot!” The squirrel girl complimented, smiling, looking at the to-do list with many checks of completed jobs.

Her face was covered in moisturizing cream and a soothing cucumber and aloe vera gel (mainly for the dark circles). She looked better. Much more relaxed. Ten tons less stress than a few hours ago.

At least she really rested - as she said she would.

“Let me guess, you didn’t have time to create something, did you?” Squidward asked, sending her a very displeased eyestare. “We worked hard on this list, you know?” 

He could have specified that SpongeBob did most of the work, but he left the information out, out of embarrassment.

He was starting to get worried about the amount of help he was getting, especially from his neighbor whose parents think he's wedded to.

The little guy didn't need to help him this much, and yet he did, smiling all the time. Squidward had to start recognizing that.

He was a great guy. And not selfish. No ulterior motives. There was secretly no malicious intent behind his doings. He was super easy to understand. 

Squidward appreciates that.

Sandy, to his surprise, just let out a small laugh in reply to his rude question.

Indicating for both of them to approach.

“Never underestimate me, grumpy man, don’t forget I'm good at fighting.” But her soft speech, as she walked calmly to the lab, reassured him she wouldn’t throw punches anytime soon.

When they descended the stairs to the underground laboratory she had built with Karen's help, both Squidward and SpongeBob saw the female computer, lying on a sofa, smoking (or pretending to be) an electronic cigarette and holding a glass of lubricating oil as if it was wine.

Karen feigned disinterest when they both entered, but stared at the squirrel woman as if she was waiting for the last-minute visit to be over and gone.

Apparently they had interrupted an important evening for her…

“Here it is!” Sandy exclaimed, placing a jar of gel on top of the lab bench. There was no label. It was an aqua green, with small royal-blue bubbles loose in the middle. “The solution to your problem.”

SpongeBob and Squidward looked at each other.

“What is it?” The yellow man asked, curious.

“This cutie is a powerful repairing remedy for organic and healing muscles, with a scent of rosemary and mint.” 

And then, two pairs of eyes flashed in surprise and interest. Amazed by the creation.

SpongeBob wowed.

“What? Like magic or something?” he asked, eyes glittering.

“No, like medical science .”

Squidward looked more closely at the pot, taking it in his hand.

“Does it really work?” He asked, skeptical.

It sounded too good to be real. A healing gel?

“If you ask again I'll charge you $279.90 for it.” She said, arching an eyebrow.

He shut up.

“Massage twice a day for seven days in circular motions until the skin absorbs well.” She instructed, pointing again to the door. “I recommend doing it after a bath and after a balanced meal. Keep your arm still for at least thirty minutes and it'll be as good as new in no time.”

The men followed her back to the surface and into the door. Squidward held the medicine bottle in hand and SpongeBob scribbled down everything she said with a pen and paper he didn't know where he took it from.

Pushing them out, Sandy leaned against the doorframe and finished.

“Thanks for the volunteer service guys, really.” She smiled, friendly. But it ended with far less sympathy than they expected. “Now if you'll excuse me I’ll be busy for the rest of the night. If any side effects appear, go to the hospital.”

And then the door closed.

As the airlock filled with water so they could both remove the helmets from their heads, Squidward had the faint impression that Karen no longer had any interest in returning to Plankton - or any other man , for that matter.

SpongeBob opened the door for both of them to come out and looked up at the dark sky.

“Wow, Autumn really gets dark earlier. We better go back.”

Shivering, the cephalopod looked around. He pressed a tentacle against the back of his neck, trying to sooth his nerves.

Indeed, it was dark, still and silent. There were few people on the street, probably also going home. 

It worried him.

“Yeah, and fast . I don’t feel safe here.” He replied, slightly scared, turning right, to where they lived. At least Sandy didn't live that far from them.

SpongeBob followed, the distinctive click of his shoe echoing off the street.

“My mom always says it's best not to think about those things if you don't want them to happen.” He replied. “But I agree, it’s better to call a taxi.” Taking a deep breath and whistling, a yellow car pulled up next to them.

Squidward smiled, grateful for his friend's understanding. And, without thinking too much, he opened the vehicle door for the little yellow man to enter first.

It wasn't much, but maybe he can get used to these small gestures of kindness.

A few hours later, he was sitting on the couch, reading a book, while the other cooked them some dinner.

It was a dramatic novelette with a tragic ending, and Stroganoff - The food, ern... you got it.

Then, Squidward heard a popping sound. SpongeBob had opened a bottle of wine.

He didn't even look away from the book, but smirked.

“Mind asking? I could have been saving that up for later.” He asked. It wasn't a criticism, he just wanted to annoy the younger adult. It was something he took a liking to, pissing him off . He never snaps, it’s funny.

The yellow boy poked his head out of the kitchen, looking at the side of the cephalopod's blue head.

“... were you?” He asked, worried.

Squidward snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

Too easy.

“Nah. I’m just messing.” He replied. All the wines he has are cheap, and the expensive ones are hidden in the attic anyway.

SpongeBob sighed in relief, serving them both. He left the kitchen with two glasses in hand and a smile on his face. He handed one to the older fish over the back of the sofa and offered a toast.

Squidward took it and toasted.

“For a good recovery!” The yellow guy cheered.

“I just hope I don't get attacked again.” He confessed, drinking the wine.

“You will no longer be in danger until everything is resolved and the culprit arrested. I'm your bodyguard!” 

The way he said it was almost comical .

“You? My bodyguard ?” Squidward snorted a laugh. “Who the hell agreed to that? You're here to make me dinner and call the police if someone breaks into my house.”

“Among other things and that too. But, I mean…” He said, propping with his elbows on the back of the sofa and playing with his glass. His thin voice got lower as he made a question, somehow sheepish. Weirdly shy. “I saved you once and I’d do it again?”

The cephalopod felt his cheeks heat up and his heart skip a beat.

O-KAY. ..

Yeah, okay, that was cute .

… the hell...

Squidward had a fucking guard-angel in the shape of a yellow sea-sponge now? For christ sake... Maybe that's what God thinks he deserves.

“Thanks but no .” He replied, ignoring his own flushed cheeks while looking at the younger man. “A lot more people will mourn if you die instead of me. Not to mention you’re younger and with a lot of life ahead. You can’t just risk it .” And with a certain seriousness, Squidward stared into his neighbor's blue eyes as he restated his point. “Listen, do not risk your life for me, SpongeBob, ever .” And just as seriously, he continued. The other one kept paying total attention to his words. “As much as you piss me off, I'd rather have you alive, running loose in the yard and annoying me, than carry the responsibility of your death for the rest of my life.” 

The yellow man's face reddened a shade deeper. He opened and closed his mouth, possibly thinking about how to respond. His eyes darted to every corner of the room, and the glass of wine, but never the red eyes. 

He looked shy and lost.

It looked cute on him.

They resumed drinking the wine in silence.

… Squidward might have discovered a new weapon against him. And he felt somehow powerful knowing that.

The chatterbox rarely shut up.

But he has to confess that his positivity and willingness to help him after everything happened is a wonderful quality. One that he refused to accept at first, but now he appreciates very much.

At first he was desperate thinking that SpongeBob would take advantage of the situation to demand a reward, a date or something - but he was wrong .

From the beginning, he gladly saved him, offered to keep him company, made him breakfast, lunch and dinner, helped him get medicine for his shoulder, and was still encouraging him to achieve his dream of playing in the Spring Symphony Orchestra.

Again, such a helpful guy shouldn't even exist . After everything that happened, spending time with SpongeBob helped a lot to get the negative thoughts out of his head.

It was like a balm. Like the healing gel, but for his spirit.

Maybe that's what people say about "rubbing off on someone"? You know, to rub one's happiness against another's unhappy vibe, healing it? Like ointment?

…

Why the HECK did he think about SpongeBob rubbing oil on him?!?! What the actual fuck --

Squidward looked down at his wine glass, seeing it already empty. 

Damn, he drank it too quickly. Pain meds really weren't a good combination with alcohol.

Ignoring the flushed cheeks, he decided to give the glass back to the cook.

Cheap wines really are the fastest to get you drunk, hm.

“How about dinner?” He asked, ignoring it all and getting comfortable on the sofa again, to resume reading his book.

“O-oh, right!” SpongeBob jumped in surprise. They had spent a few minutes in silence. It was a new record. Hehe, powerful . “Just a sec!” He hurried back to the kitchen to - presumably - turn off the fire. “Here, done!”  And a second later, with another yellow-blur running through the kitchen, he shouted again. “Aaand, table set too!”

Squidward closed the book at once. He was starving.

“Good.”

They ate together - Nothing much.

They cleaned the dishes together - Nothing too weird.

They sat back down and shared a bunch of grapes as dessert - Somehow still fine.

Squidward went to take a shower and SpongeBob offered to scrap his back - He refused as expected.

Then, it was time to apply the remedy.

“I don’t need help.” He groaned at the yellow guy’s insistence.

“Yes you do!” SpongeBob replied, just as serious. “Sandy said to massage until your skin absorbs well - you can’t do that alone, it’s in the back of your shoulder!”

Fucking damnit .

He sat down, on the couch, with part of his robe off so it wouldn’t get in the way. He crossed his arms and frowned as the grumpy old man he is - ignoring whatever was to come.

“Just do it quickly.” He groaned.

Yellow fingers spread gel on his skin. He shivered.

“Sorry, is it cold?” The younger man asked, rubbing the gel.

Squidward almost replied that it wasn't the temperature, and that it was actually because of someone else's touch on his skin - but if he said that, he might end up making the situation worse for his own nerves.

“A bit.” He replied instead.

While he was focused on the painstaking work, SpongeBob didn't strike up a conversation. And the cephalopod appreciated that.

But of course it lasted little.

“You know, I've been thinking about what you said early and I guess I came up with a funny idea.” He started, hands rubbing softly at his sore shoulder. Squidward began to be disconcerted by the act - perhaps he didn't even realize how much touch-starved he was. The soft caress over his skin was making him anxious. “You said I was right about your two hearts, right? Which means you're still open to a new relationship--”

Squidward groaned at him. Was he really starting that conversation again? The older man already knew that this would be another attempt to ask him out and he wasn’t in the mood for that. Also, the gel was getting warm and the massage was turning his tough personality off - how the hell can a little guy gather so many unrelated skills? 

It was starting to get effective in cracking his (metaphorical) shell, and he can’t have that.

“ SpongeBob… ” He warned.

The man didn’t even waver in reply, smiling and shaking his head.

“Not a flirt, just hear me out.” He explained. Squidward just agreed for him to continue, even though he rolled his eyes. Maybe the remnants of the crappy cheap wine mixed with the pain medicine were still there, who knows. He didn’t feel like arguing. The massage was quite great. “You said I have to stop thinking about us as more than friends and you are right, I’m over you, so what if we bet on who gets a boyfriend first? We can help each-other out and still have fun while trying it!”

The position of the smaller fish, standing on the sofa to perform the massage, left them almost at the same height.

Squidward looked over his (sore) shoulder to see his face by the corner of his eyes.

The guy wasn’t blushing, flushed or looking flirty. He wasn’t kidding. Maybe he really meant that all, and was giving an honest, innocent, idea.

Squidward squinted his eyes at him, skeptical.

“What do you mean by ‘being over me’?”

SpongeBob just blinked at him in surprise, finally blushing, looking sideways.

But because of a different reason.

“Why did you focus on that? I'm trying my best here and you didn't help...”

And it was Squidward’s turn to blush.

It…

He…

Well, the statement stood out and…

… and he didn’t believe it.

Why didn’t he believe it?

Because of everything SpongeBob was doing to help him? He never said he was doing it for ulterior motives (On the contrary, he had every right to try but instead he made a point of showing that he would never take advantage), and he had helped him out many times before too. To be honest, he would have done that to any other friend of his, he’s not that special. And he didn’t even ask to sleep on the same bed as his…

Why did he suddenly dismiss it as a possibility ? He could have indeed gotten over him.

One day, it won’t be a lie.

… why the hell were his hands sweating?

His face started to boil.

SpongeBob was trying his best to stay quiet, hiding his expression with both hands. (the universal act of screaming inside).

Squidward needed to think of a strategy to get out of this situation before both the two hearts he had left started beating fast too.

“Because I doubt it.” He replied, faking a mean laugh. “Not that you won’t get a boyfriend first, since I’m not even looking for one, but getting over me is bullshit because I know that passion takes time to disappear - that’s why. But I'll believe it to make you less embarrassed.” 

The sea sponge, whose face is even more crimson, just nodded his head - thanking it.

And how was he? The hypocrite octopus? With a face like a red pepper, of course, hidden, looking straight ahead to the wall, ignoring one-hundred percent the previous mood he had caused.

Bypassing their mild panic-attack, a minute or so later, Squidward and SpongeBob took a deep breath in and decided to go back to the subject brought up by the yellow sponge.

“Also, weren't you the one complaining yesterday about not knowing anyone, why are you willing to bet now?”

SpongeBob let out the breath he was holding, and tried giving his signature laugh - although he ended too fast.

“I was actually willing to bet that you will get one first.” He pointed out. And it made less than little sense to him.

Then, suddenly, a small short circuit happened in the head of the older fish, who turned around to look with seriousness into the younger's blue eyes.

“Are you trying to make fun of me? Is this a trap?”

SpongeBob got stunned by the question. He widened his eyes and flushed his cheeks all over again, completely lost . 

“Wait, what ?”

“You know I'll bet on you, then you will bet on me. Either out of pity or because you really think I'm great enough to enter a bar and get hitten on the spot. Both ways will end with neither of us getting to meet anyone, and depending on the price you are willing to bet I can't escape the trap other than accepting dating you.” He replied, still pretty direct and serious. 

It looked a lot like a potential plot for some kind of romantic comedy for young adults. 

SpongeBob tries to pull away a little, out of discomfort, shaking his head.

“Ern… No? I-- I mean you are great, but-- I just thought it would be fun!” He said, getting nervous. “Going out as pals! Giving each other tips, and chatting about potential boyfriends and getting motivation to start flirting with strangers--” He shrugged.

Squidward narrowed his red eyes, trying to unravel that speech. An insight check.

Indeed. It's a harmless proposition. SpongeBob wasn't good with plans of that nature. He was not a manipulative or strategic person. But Squidward is sure his neighbor didn't even think about the consequences of it. 

Also… he would never do something like that to anyone that likes him. It’s just too mean.

“No.” He replied, still serious. Those red eyes locked in place. “You won't want that, I know you.”

“H-how so?” The other one asked, stuttering. SpongeBob always felt a little weak under those eyes. “Sounds like a fun idea to me.”

“Oh, really ?” The cephalopod asked. He leaned forward, to analyze his expression, making the yellow one bend back a little, as he approached. “Tell me, how would you feel if you see me kissing somebody else in front of you?” 

The older man shadowed over him as he stared into those blue eyes - changing the direction of his gaze from left to right. There he could see, crystal clear, as SpongeBob imagined the scene happening. He looked sad. He hated it. It made his poor little heart squeeze .

The yellow guy opened his mouth and closed it - swallowing the answer.

“It hurted, didn’t it?” The cephalopod asked, supporting himself on the cushion. The gel really was miraculous, his arm barely ached - but he needed to keep it still, as instructed.

In reply, SpongeBob surprised him by retorting an unexpected reply.

“Yeah… But I might be sabotaging myself.”

That caught the cephalopod off guard.

“What?”

“I mean, my imagination lies to me all the time.” He explained, looking back, with an inquisitive stare. “How can I know it will hurt that bad? I’ve never seen you kiss anyone .”

It was slow, almost imperceptible, but it was a very well articulated strategy to put Squidward’s guard down.

And it was working.

The octopus was very confused.

“I don't know if you kiss awkwardly.” The yellow guy shrugged, explaining further. Outlining the suicidal strategy (or was it more like an all-in?) “If it's funny, or odd. If you bite, or if you use your tongue. Maybe I'll even find it disgusting and completely lose passion for you. It might be a good idea in the end, to get over you.”

Squidward blinked his eyes, processing the info.

Those were some harsh words. His pride was suddenly shaken .

SpongeBob was bluntly saying that he thought he was awesome, and now he's saying that he would completely lose interest if he sees him kiss someone else in a way that he thought was weird?

He? Weird ?!

“What the hell do you know about kissing?!” That pissed him off. “Or, rather, what the hell is a weird kiss ?!”

And maybe that was what SpongeBob was fishing for.

The yellow guy bit his own lips in a smile.

They shared eye-contact.

Their closeness didn’t help at all.

Squidward squinted his eyes - he fell into a trap didn’t he?

“ You little --” He intended to curse, but was silenced by force.

Chapter Text

Squidward realizes that the  weird  part of kissing SpongeBob isn’t  how  SpongeBob kissed, it’s how people  feel  while kissing him.

It's completely different than anyone could have predicted, really, except for the pressure and abruptness - he knew what the man was gonna do before he jumped him and that’s as far as he could go by  predicting .

SpongeBob gave him a determined kind of kiss, firm - with hands holding him in place as he pressed his nose and cheeks all into a very strong pressing of lips. But, after a second, it dispels and loses all force as it turns to soft and lovely withdrawal. Making,  obviously , a popping sound.

They stared at each other in silence, once SpongeBob finished. Holding the will to giggle at his own forwardness.

It probably lasted the same amount of time as any other normal kiss, but it also caught him off guard how  fast  it ended.

Like… the last day of summer camp.

It started out hot and steady, then it became less about time and more about making it a memory to treasure and keep.

Squidward thought he would take that as if some kind of teenager had accidentally force-kissed him… but he was wrong. 

Well, no, actually it  indeed  felt like a teenager was force-kissing him, yes, BUT what he didn’t expect, is that in this metaphorical situation scenario, he was  also  a teenager being force-kissed, in his head. 

A freckled teenager, with colorful wristbands and bracelets, a waist pack aside, buttons on his jacket, sitting on a bench under a tree, on a sunny afternoon, having this same experience while an ice cream cone melts in his right hand. It felt like the 90s. The weather was different back then. He was shy, immature, curious, and reckless. He could feel the smack of lips against his. And when the scoop of ice cream dropped to the floor, he blinked, coming back to his living room, 30 years later, having the same weird sensation running over his body.

He drew in a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, and looked at the small yellow man with flushed cheeks.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I don’t know but I heard it too,” SpongeBob replied, standing, leaving a troubled Squidward on the couch. “I think it came from outside.” He continued, looking out the window.

“W-what?” He asked, confused. He was talking about the  kiss --

And then he heard it.

“Heeelp! ” Someone was shouting.

Still a bit flustered, Squidward notices he’s almost lying on the couch. The smaller one had pushed him down to climb and he hadn't even realized the position he allowed himself to be put in. He stood fast, adjusting his robe, shaking his flustered head.

“Arn… Patrik must have stuck on his damn skylight?” He joked, out of anxiousness.

He didn’t want to show how  stunned  he was.

SpongeBob looked back at him with a very worried countenance.

“... Someone fell into the trap outside,” SpongeBob said, in a low voice, stepping out of the window and closer to the cephalopod. “What do we do? Maybe it’s a burglar?”

“I don’t think a burglar would be calling for help.” Squidward answered him, thinking about it “Should we ignore it? Maybe deal with it tomorrow?”

“ Heeeeelp! I think I broke my leg! ”

They looked at each other, exchanging pity expressions. They nodded their heads and went to the door. 

SpongeBob made the first move, holding the knob of the door. Squidward slapped his hand out of it.

“What did I say about you  not  being my bodyguard?!” He complained, stepping out first.

The chilly air of the night breeze passed between them when it entered the house and Squidward noticed inside of it was much warmer than it usually is. 

Maybe having an additional presence close to him, for so long, did it…

“But you need to keep your arm still, remember? It hasn't been thirty minutes yet.” SpongeBob explained, pointing out a very important notice he had forgotten about.

“Urgh…” He groaned, offended, holding the will to tell him that SpongeBob already broke that damn rule when he decided to  tackle  him with a freaking oddly-nostalgic kiss, but he didn’t. Instead, he just hugged his own arm against his chest and let SpongeBob step out after him. “ Fine .”

Going first into the front yard, SpongeBob took out a flashlight.

Both of them approached the trap at the same time.

They looked down into the inside of the hole, and with the additional light, both could see a person in uniform there.

“Oooh,  Thank God !” The person replied, looking at both of them. “I thought I was gonna spend the rest of the night here.”

Squidward squinted his eyes to try to decipher who it was and finally saw some familiarities.

He looked like the police guy who arrested his hitman.

“... Officer?”

“Glad you remember me.” He replied, laughing. “I’m pretty sure I told you the police were patrolling the area since the incident, didn’t I?” He explained. “Well, I have some news from Ernandez too if you help me out.”

He’d mentioned the name before, and it’s kinda weird that an officer would refer to a Hitman by his first name, but neither of them mentioned it.

SpongeBob brought a ladder.

“Why would you dig a hole this deep, man?” The guy laughed, crawling out of there. “I think I really strained my leg. I could arrest you for that, you know?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Officer!” SpongeBob replied, nervous, stuttering, and helping him. “It was my idea! I wanted a trap to catch someone who might try to kill Squiddy again… It wasn't my intention to  cause  any trouble.” He explained.

The officer smiled at his honesty and cleaned the dirt off his clothes.

“That’s okay, I’ll let you go free of charge this time.” He replied, well-humored, winking to the cook. “If you don't catch any burglars, maybe I can just pass by and  fall  once more.”

SpongeBob did a take-back, baffled, taken completely off guard—he gapped, face flushing and losing all the ability to form coherent words.

Squidward just stood there, as perplexed as anyone could be.

“Did you just…” The octopus asked, raising a tentacle hand and pointing to the short yellow guy blushing beside him.

The officer sounded abashed suddenly.

“W-well, I guess so…?”

Did you hit your head as well, buddy?  — Thought the blue man, skeptic.

Squidward looked between them. 

SpongeBob looked back at him and at the police officer, hands playing with each other out of anxiety. 

And the third man, uneasy with the weird mood he created, just went for it like he was a man on a mission.

“Sorry, are you two a  thing ?” He asked, suddenly. They were all adults and it's better to just be strictly direct. “Because I don’t want to pester or anything.”

The cephalopod sighed, shaking his head, and giving him a reply since SpongeBob was still too surprised to even pronounce useful words.

“Nah. We’re just neighbors.” He said, leaving any other detail out of the explanation. 

It's not like anyone interested in flirting with SpongeBob wants to listen to nonsense about the supposedly complicated relationship of codependency that has developed between the two of them in the last couple of days.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard.” The officer commented, trying to play the weirdness off. And somehow,  somehow , that phrase didn’t sound right… “ Anyway , I did bring information about who tried murdering you.”

With that, the sponge man seemed to recover, even if in part.

“L-let’s talk inside.” He replied, turning around and walking back to the door, hiding the flushing expression on his face. “I’ll make us tea...”

Going back first, he left Squidward and the man behind. 

Alone outside, the other two men looked at each other.

“Sorry, am I being intrusive?” The officer asked.

Intrusive? No. Except for the little scene that had just taken place on the couch (and that he still carries the bizarrely nostalgic feeling in the back of his memory), they were just neighbors. That is, he and SpongeBob don't really  have  anything (Despite being the protagonists of a lie that involves a healthy marriage in the minds of SpongeBob's parents). 

Scenes like hugging and being touchy (with now odd force kisses?) were just strangely…  common ? Well, all the people that the yellow square guy cared about were treated without any kind of personal space. Squidward was just another one of them.

Mainly because SpongeBob is  insistent  with his feelings for him, which only persists because he's never shown any romantic interest in anyone else before and because Squidward is currently defenseless and careless about his own plans for the future.

So: neighbors in which one part harbors a platonic crush on the other and might have still been trying to seduce them when possible, but overall… just neighbors.

“Nah man, go for it…” He answered. Slightly embarrassed that it all happened in front of him, but honest with his words. After all, he knew that SpongeBob was more likely to find dates than he could realize. It's funny how he has excess confidence in some things and lacks in others. “But if you want some advice. He's a little... energetic, so be patient.”

“You seem like really good friends.” The officer commented, fishing for something in Squidward’s calm expression.

The octopus looked back at him, still holding his injured arm against his chest, and replied, possibly for the first time ever, without thinking twice and right off the bait.

“Yes.” And he meant it. “Yes, we are.”

The yellow man ran into the kitchen, pressed his back against the side wall, hid, and slid to the floor.

What. The. Actual. F*dolphins sounds *

His heart was pounding stupidly hard, and his palms were sweating, but that had  nothing  to do with the shameless flirting.

This had all been happening  since  the kissing scene, and now, after the blatant flirting, in front of Squiddy, he was about to  have a  screaming fit .

Ever since he first heard the cry for help and broke the kiss, SpongeBob has been trying to control himself as much as he can and it seems to be working great!

Squiddy must have been thinking that for him it was absolutely no big deal and that he wasn't impacted at all—which is a huge lie.

He was on freaking  cloud nine .

But what broke his composure was the flirting. His face was red for the combo of reasons: Someone had blatantly made a flirtatious comment to his face, in front of the guy he liked, from whom he'd stolen a kiss just minutes before.

There was no fish in the sea that wouldn't be embarrassed by all this.

He hugged his knees, having a small internal crisis. 

And they're both coming for tea.

Fu*dolphins sounds *

SpongeBob grabbed his head, face unbelievably red. He looked at the stove—he needed to heat water… Then he remembered, "why". And the reason for the presence of the policeman there: to talk about the hitman who tried to kill Squiddy.

SpongeBob got up.

Then he sat down again on the floor, in the same position, felt his face flush again with that whole combo of emotions and events, enjoyed the solitude in the kitchen, briefly acted like a teenager in crisis, pressing his hands against his hot face and kicking his legs on the ground uncontrollably. And then, finally, he got up at once, leaving it all behind with a shake of his head.

"No! Focus!" He scolded himself, slapping his face. "You can enjoy it later, there are more important things now!" And with that he took a deep breath and let the air out of his lungs, closing both hands into tight fists. “The harsh decision between chamomile or lemongrass...”

The policeman sat in the individual armchair, noting the presence of a pillow and a folded blanket on the sofa.

Squidward noticed, and clarified in a low tone before he asked some inopportune questions—especially now that they were already close enough to the kitchen and SpongeBob could hear them.

"He's been helping me since the incident."

The officer redirected his gaze to the cephalopod and just nodded.

"Pretty kindhearted, hm?"

Squidward sat in the other corner of the sofa, propping up his injured arm so the gel could take its proper effect.

“Yes, he is.” He agreed. Without taking his eyes off the cop. “What did you say your name was again, Mr…?”

“Oooh, right!” He exclaimed, laughing at himself. “Of course! Sorry for the lack of cordiality. It's Murray.” The policeman replied with a charming smile on his face. “Fin-cod Murray.”

SpongeBob reappeared in the living room with a tray and three china cups.

“So it's Officer Murray, right?” He asked, managing not to let on that he was feeling slightly shy. “Do you accept sugar, Officer Murray?” 

Being too cordial might be a sign that he wasn't very composed—but that went unnoticed by the visitor.

Not by Squidward, though. Squidward, reluctantly, knew that sea sponge better than any member of his family.

“Ah, no need, but thank you for your kindness.” The officer replied.

“D-don’t mention it…” SpongeBob replied restless, chatty, and equally friendly. “Be my guest!”

The policeman, letting out a sly smile from behind the china, kept looking at the young adult with a curious inquisitive stare.

“Don’t mind if I do…”

“This ain’t your house to say that…” Commented Squidward, looking at the scene and taking his own china cup filled with tea.

“O-oh, right!” SpongeBob fidgets in place, hugging the tray. “Sorry.”

“Did I make you nervous?” Asked the officer, smiling as if he was enjoying seeing the yellow sponge all restless. “I apologize for my  forwardness . I didn't mean to be rude.”

Redness rose in the yellow man's face again, as he let out a sharp and awkward laugh out of despair from the tension in the living room.

“Nooo no! Not at all—” The two other older men were looking at him, but Squiddy seemed completely (thankfully or evilly?) unphased by SpongeBob's hysteria. The younger one felt his hands start to  perspire . “It just caught me  off guard .”

“Oh, I got it, yar shy about compliments, aren’t you?” The policeman commented in response, lifting the cup to his mouth and smiling. “You know… at one time or another, you'll have to get used to it.” And, as if being playful, he winked.

In another sudden and embarrassed laugh that ended way too fast, SpongeBob sat down on the sofa beside Squidward and started drinking his tea in a panicked silence, wide-eyed, staring at the wall.

“L-le-lemongrass…  good for pain ...” He whispered to himself, trying to ignore the two pairs of red eyes staring back at him.

Dear-neptune…

The clatter of china hitting the saucer as SpongeBob held it was indicative enough that he was  not  okay.

And not  there —as in, he was probably lost in his own mind.

Looking at SpongeBob freaking out like that, made Squidward realize one thing: The problem was never SpongeBob dating someone else. The problem was someone else  trying  to date SpongeBob.

They were  horrible  at it.

“What about the hitman?” Squidward brought up the subject again, finally, drinking from his own china cup.

“Oh, right.” Officer Murray said, adjusting himself in the chair. “It took us two days to get a confession out of Ernandez. He is well known for being tough and never telling us who hires him.”

“Excuse the curiosity, but why the  intimacy  with a killer?”

Fin-cod widened his eyes in surprise at the question.

“He... used to be a good comrade from Rock Bottom's PD. We went to the police academy together…” The cop seemed distant, remembering the story. Or perhaps making it up, something looked shady about the guy. “He dropped out after losing a partner. It was very sad.”

Murray sounded sorrowful. But at the same time, Squidward couldn't tell if he  believed  him.

It looked convincing enough to SpongeBob, though.

“Poor guy…”

Squidward sent him a disbelieving face.

“ Seriously ?” He asked, moving the injured arm so he could point to it. “He tried to  kill  me!”

SpongeBob realized his mistake in a heartbeat.

“Sorry, Squiddy!” He shouted. “You are right! Bad guy!  Bad guy! ”

Fin-cod Murray laughed a bit at their interaction, waving a hand around.

“Don’t get me wrong. We used to be close, but not friends. He  is  a murderer and deserves to be locked in jail.” The officer replied, taking another sip of his tea and putting it down on the coffee table. “I just haven't lost the habit of referring to him by his first name, that’s all.”

A little less suspicious, Squidward accepted the justification and then asked him to continue with what scared him the most: the contractor.

“And what did he tell you?”

“Well, he didn't give us  names , but he said it was a tall person, in a black overcoat, at the back of the Municipal Theater.”

The octopus looked at his friend, sitting beside him. And they both exchanged the same kind of expression.

A black overcoat? 

Municipal Theater?

Could it be someone from the play Alaska mentioned?

“I also asked if they had a  reason  for wanting you dead.” Fin-cod continued, in a low voice. “But he said the person didn't specify. That he was handed half the cash up front, your full name, and workplace.”

“What should we do now?” SpongeBob touched Squidward’s good arm, looking at his face. “Should we investigate?”

The cephalopod stared at the wall, thinking.

The officer replied instead.

“You can leave that part to the police.” He explained, reassuring him. “But if you have any suspects, be sure to let us know.”

SpongeBob nodded his head.

“Thank you so much, Officer Murray." The sponge guy replied, standing from the sofa. “The police will continue to make the rounds, right? Maybe put someone in an ambush as well?” He wanted to cover all possibilities: keep Squidward safe until a culprit is found.

Fin looked at the visibly worried cute guy, and gave him a smile, standing from the armchair as well.

“I will see what I can do about a stakeout.” Getting ready to leave, he added. “Do you have a pen? You guys should write down my number in case something else happens.”

“Oh, sure!” SpongeBob replied, going for a pen. “Just a sec, I saw one in the kitchen.”

And when he left again, Squidward, still focusing aimlessly on the wall, spoke up a question that was hunting him.

“This Ernandez guy…” He said, picking up the attention of both the officer and SpongeBob. “Did he say what kind of  fish  the contractor was?”

Murray shook his head.

“He didn’t.” And then, suddenly, he remembered something. “But now that you asked… he did mention the person had some kind of accent.”

“ Accent? ”   Squidward asked, weirded out. “Which kind of accent? Atlantean, Rock Bottom, Deep Crack, Edge Coast, or from the surface?”

Murray shrugged.

“He didn’t say. That’s as much as we could take from him.”

SpongeBob got back with the pen and a notepad. Handed it to the office and saw him write down a piece of paper.

“If I don't answer at first I might be on patrol, but I'll return the call when possible.” He said.

“Yes, Sir.” SpongeBob replied, cordially, opening the front door for him.

Before leaving the policeman hummed, looking between SpongeBob, right next to him, and the Octopus on the sofa.

He opened his mouth, probably to flirt one last time, but he didn’t do it.

Instead, he just smiled cordially back to the sponge and winked.

“Be careful, you two.” He tapped on the brim of his hat and left the house.

The yellow guy watched him leave the yard and into his police car, face slightly flushed.

Once they were alone again he turned to the cephalopod.

“Well… that was…”

“ Fishy .”

SpongeBob laughed at his joke but then he stopped realizing Squidward wasn’t joking at all.

“Wait,  what ?” He asked, walking back to the coffee table to pick up the cups. “How can he be suspicious? Isn’t he a policeman?”

Squidward looked at the younger one, with a frown on his face.

“Call it a hunch if you must, but something seems off…”

The yellow sponge’s face got slightly redder and he everted eye contact, focusing — with half-closed eyelids — at the glassware he was taking to the kitchen.

“Off you say…? How  off  exactly?”

Squidward tried to stand from the sofa, holding the arm in a comfortable position.

“The way he spoke... as if he was fishing for some information…” He pondered out loud. “And who told him about us?”

SpongeBob, in the kitchen, put the tray and all the cups inside the sink.

“That’s not odd.” He replied somehow smoothly. “I mean, back at the Krusty Krab I said we were neighbors and that I’d be the one helping you after you got shot.”

“Well, yes.” Squidward started to wave a tentacle hand around while explaining. “But don’t you think he sounded too curious?”

“About what?”

“About…”  What was it again?  

Entering the kitchen, he halted looking at the table in the middle of the room.

The light was dimmed.

SpongeBob was sitting on top of the aforementioned table with crossed legs and half-lid eyes.

“About what?” He asked again, in a smooth and calm tone.

“About…”

“I’m waiting.”

Squidward felt his face flush.

“Why are you sitting there?” He asked, frowning his forehead, turning the light back on, and avoiding the subject.

“About  what , Squidward?” SpongeBob pressed on, sitting on the edge of the table, waiting patiently.

“I  know  what you think this is, but—”

“Ok, so  finish  it.” SpongeBob uncrossed his legs, and helped him reformulate the question. “You think Officer Murray is  sus  because he  somehow  showed interest in...?” And, slowly, the little yellow man pointed to himself.

“See?! You are misunderstanding!” Squidward felt his face flush much more. “I’m not saying he’s suspicious because he flirted with you! I’m saying he’s sus because of the way he was questioning our relationship. Like he came to see whether or not we are a  thing .”

SpongeBob kept a smooth smile on his face, like he was the one treating the unreasonable adult.

“Well, no, he came to tell you about the case but he also took the opportunity to question our relationship because he’s somehow  interested  in  me .” The sponge guy replied. “And he made that pretty clear.” Swinging his short legs out off the table, he relaxed his body, using his hands for support, on the back. Then, he looked at Squidward from under his eyelashes and with a sly grin on his face. “And you didn’t like it.”

The octopus squinted his eyes at him.

“I’m not  jealous .”

Spongebob bit his lips.

“I think you are.”

“I am  not .”

“I knew you were in denial.”

“SpongeBob!” Squidward pinched the bridge of his long nose and sighed, feeling his face heat up. “You are  misunderstanding !”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're the one misunderstanding  yourself ?”

All of a sudden, Squidward got mad.

Something inside him triggered. It burned and ached.

The octopus squinted his eyes at him, defying his playfully table-turning and retorting with much more spite than intended.

Because Spongebob wasn't the one at fault for triggering it—he isn’t at fault for  any  emotional scar he has.

“And have you ever stopped to think that no matter how hard you try, I just don’t see you like  that ?”

It felt like a punch into the yellow one’s guts. 

It hurt. And it could be seen effortlessly in the sponge guy’s face.

Squidward widened his eyes and approached in a second, opening his mouth to apologize but Spongebob jumped off the table, looking at the floor with an angry frown expression, and walked out of the kitchen.

“That’s not… I didn’t…” The cephalopod tried, feeling his insides get hurt too. His throat was dry. He hated himself for saying that to SpongeBob. It came out of him way too fast, like self-defense. Automatic and quite frightening.

He realized… he didn’t actually  mean that .

Halting and turning to face him, Spongebob replied in annoyance.

“Don’t take it back.”

Blue eyes stared up at red ones. And they looked angry.

Squidward felt anxious.

“I’m--”

“ Don’t! ” He shouted, frowning even more, pointing a finger to his face. He  hated  when Squidward did that. When he says hurtful things like that and then takes it back like it was  nothing . Like it wasn’t something  mean  to do. 

And Spongebob’s too mad to take it as a joke  again .

The octopus’s hands seemed to be shaking.

“... I wasn’t jealous.”

Spongebob’s face remained serious. Then, he took a deep breath in and sighed. 

It started to get redder from contained sadness. Quickly, he nodded his head and turned around. 

Squidward stood in the kitchen, following him with his eyes.

Spongebob walked to the bathroom on the other side of the living room, entered, and locked the door.

Once alone, the octopus man looked at his trembling hand and frowned his forehead to himself. Then, he let out, in a slow breath and voice, what he should have replied to Spongebob instead.

“... but I was  worried .”

Soft gigglings.

A popping sound.

“Hey.” Complained a voice, playfully, munching on his exploded bubblegum.

In the background, music was playing.

Under them, a picnic towel.

The tree—full of life—blocked out most of the sun.

“It’s almost noon.” Said one, closing the magazine he was reading. “I wanna do something else.”

The other, laying on the ground, using sunglasses, let out a laugh.

“Like what?” He asked, raising half of his body up with the help of elbows. “We are broke.”

“Shoplift?”

Shaking his head, Squidward dropped his body to the ground again, laying on his hands.

“You are a horrible influence.”

Rolling his eyes, the other octopus groaned annoyed.

“Urgh, you’re talking like your old man.”

Popping another bubble gum with his mouth, Squidward frowned, looking at him.

“Shut up. Do you wanna get caught?”

“Who said anything about getting caught? We’ve done that before.” Argued Squilliam, in his early age, with all that splendor of recklessness and ignorance.

They had both barely passed to the last year of high school.

One got life plans, and the other got just dreams.

“Did you forget the mess we went through last time?” Squidward retorted, raising his voice and not moving from his comfortable spot. “It isn’t worth it. I’m not going.”

He felt pressure over his body on the ground.

Squilliam lay down against his chest, smiling wickedly.

Both red eyes stared at each other.

“You talk as if you are innocent.” The one-eyebrowed grinned, supporting his head. “Did you forget who gave you these sunglasses?” He asked, picking it up from Squidward’s face.

“No, but at least I’m aware it came from a crime and not your pocket.” He said.

Squilliam just chuckled like he was being silly.

“Yeah, right. Like you really care.”

“Sometimes I do, you know…”

“HmmHmm,” He smiled, getting closer. “sure you do.”

They kissed. It was manipulative, but Squidward still felt for it every time.

He closes his eyes and enjoys the press of lips.

His mind glitches—Squilliam turns smaller and softer over him.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but he can taste the difference in their kiss.

“Come’on.” Squilliam’s voice tells him again, ending the kiss. He opens his eyes and his ex-boyfriend is back to normal. Getting up from their picnic towel. The soothing glitch disappeared just as fast as it started. “Let’s go to midtown, I want a new magazine.”

Squidward raised from his spot slowly, struck by it, questioning himself what had felt different.

“Can’t we just practice? The presentation is in two weeks.” He started packing his things.

Squilliam groaned, sending him a playful and sloppy smile.

“Two weeks is like forever. We can practice later.”

Squidward took their things and sighed.

Squilliam went first. When he took a step ahead, he felt someone hold him back.

His mind glitches again—SpongeBob is there, behind him, looking at him with a soft smile.

“Where are you going, buddy?”

Squidward notices he’s above another picnic towel. A much bigger one. Colorful. Full of edible goods to eat and drink.

“I thought you wanted to practice?” The yellow teen asked, confused. He looked very young. There was a lovely quiff on his head and a flowered blouse.

Squidward looks at his own hands. All the things he was holding turned into one single thing: his old and favorite clarinet.

The young blue octopus felt his chest hurt.

Then his glitch was over.

Squilliam was snapping his finger in front of his face.

When Squidward came back to it, he looked jumpy, and the other one laughed.

“You okay there? What came to you?” His current ex-boyfriend asked, amused.

Squidward looked down at his clarinet, but he was again holding their makeshift cold and boring picnic.

“... I don’t know.” He frowned.

He woke up in the middle of the night, shaking.

His covers were freezing rather than warm. He was shivering.

He realized he had left the window open and the cold night breeze was giving him confusing dreams.

Squidward got up from the bed and went to close it.

Something caught his attention in the yard, near the pineapple house. 

It was a  shadow , barely able to be seen passing through in front of the outside window. 

It moved  fast .

Squidward’s survival instinct triggered him like nothing else in his entire life.

He ran to the door, almost hurting his injured arm. With a heavy breath, he opened it wide and went down the stairs faster than if the house was on fire.

“SpongeBob!!” He called, worried, sweating buckets, running to the sofa to wake him up. 

But, when he reached it, he noticed his neighbor wasn’t there anymore.

A wave of  despair  began to wash over him. 

He started to cry.

“No no nonono nono .” He held his head, shaking it, as tears began to stream down his face.

A loud noise resounded from the back door. Like someone was kicking it hard.

Squidward's legs began to shake.

SpongeBob appeared out of breath holding a shovel.

“WHAT?! WHAT HAPPENED?!” He asked, panicked. It was he who had come through the door. “WHERE IS HE?!”

Squidward took a second until he could control himself.

He almost had a freaking  heart attack !

The octopus supported his body on the back of the sofa, trying to calm the nerves.

“ Geezusfuckingchrist… ” He cursed under a breath, hand pressed against his chest. “Where were YOU?!”

SpongeBob lowered the shovel, stuttering.

“I-I went home to take a quick bath.” He explained, still shaking because of the panic. Squidward could see he was indeed wearing new clothes. “What happened?!”

The cephalopod opened his mouth to curse him, but stopped. He looked up at the ceiling and then his eyes started to water again.

“ Damnit …” He cursed himself instead, walking inside the kitchen.

He stepped forward until he was at a reachable distance from the yellow sponge man. 

SpongeBob didn't have time to react before he was lifted into the air and hugged tightly.

The cephalopod squeezed him, ignoring whether it felt weird or not for the younger one, and allowed himself to let out the cry that got stuck in his eyes.

“I was  dead scared .” He confessed mid-crying.

Again, it wasn’t the first time Spongebob saw Squidward cry, but it wasn’t something he saw much, and for it to be happening for the second time in such a short period - made him even more worried.

“Sorry I left, I didn't want to wake you… It was meant to be quick and--” The younger one justified, stroking the back of the other adult's head.

Squidward shook his head.

He squeezed him more and hid his face over SpongeBob’s shoulder. 

“I thought you were gone.” 

Given his situation, maybe it was emotion and panic making the confession for him.

With no reaction at first, the yellow man just let the octopus cry. Then, after a few minutes, both of them sniffled.

Spongebob slid the hand from the back of his friend's head to his cheeks and tried to calm him down.

“... Squiddy.” He called. His voice was low, soft, sweet, and comforting. 

Without unhandling SpongeBob, keeping him pressed against his chest, Squidward started to wipe his own eyes with the back of a hand.

“Hey, look at me.” He caressed his cheeks, until they were looking into each other’s eyes.

His red ones were obviously full of tears. But, to his surprise, the blue ones were too.

“I’m  here , buddy.” Spongebob reassured him, smiling. “I won’t leave your side even if you  kick me out .”

“I’m sorry I’m a jerk to you sometimes...” He felt like replying.

His shorty neighbor chuckled.

“It's okay. I pushed you too hard.”

“No, you didn’t.” He shook his head again. “I panicked and you are  not  at fault.”

“I  am  at fault for kissing you by force, tho.”

“Well… yes, but that’s not why-- you know what, let’s just ignore this mess.” Squidward pressed a hand on his face, rubbing at his tired eyes.

Then, he walked back to the living room. SpongeBob felt his body being carried to the sofa and flushed.

“Squiddy?”

The octopus laid down on the sofa, using SpongeBob’s pillow and hugging the yellow guy’s body as a plush doll.

“Can we share?” He asked, under a breath, closing his tired eyes and ignoring whether or not his friend was comfortable between his arms.

Pressed against the upholstery of the sofa and his neighbor, SpongeBob felt his face heat up a degree or two.

He tried replying while being squeezed and having his face stuffed against Squidward’s pajamas, but it came out almost incomprehensible.

“ Ovcoarse …”

And even before receiving a positive response, Squidward was already passed out again.

On the next day, when Squidward woke up he noticed two funny things:

He was  drooling —something he hadn't done in nearly a decade.

And SpongeBob was replaced by another pillow—which he’s glad about because the drool seemed to be running all over it.

“ Urgh .” He groaned, cleaning his mouth.

He yawned, and stretched, noting that his arm felt much better. The gel was  really  miraculous. (He can't forget to finish the whole treatment, though.)

Looking over the backrest of the sofa, he saw SpongeBob awake, preparing breakfast, whistling.

A different sensation spread in his chest. 

It made him smile.

Propping his arms on the couch upholstery, he rested his chin and stared.

Just… stared.

It was bright, the sun was shining through the window. The boy was wearing simple and comfortable clothes (he must have brought them from home when he went there the night before).

The radio was on. Bee Gees was playing. The air smelled of fresh coffee.

Then, he was noticed.

“Morning, buddy!” SpongeBob exclaimed, with a wide, endearing smile.

The octopus felt glad to see he hadn’t screwed up and destroyed their friendship the night before—he's very lucky (and fortunate) that SpongeBob does forgive him a lot.

At the beginning of the month, he couldn’t care less for Spongebob. Now, that shorty yellow noisy guy might be the friend he most cares about.

And… he’s okay with it. 

“‘Morning.”

“Sit up! Eat!” SpongeBob sent him a gentle wave, calling him to the main table. “The day will be short today, we have a lot to do!” The energetic personality in person danced around the kitchen overflowing with friendliness.

Sleeping was so pleasurable that Squidward didn't want to get up. But he did. As always grumpy, he got up sluggishly and started to walk to the table, dragging his feet.

He sat.

Promptly, a cup of coffee was served in front of him together with a plate of toast, eggs, and fruits. SpongeBob sat beside him and began eating his own food.

“How’s your shoulder?” He asked, munching on one of the pieces of toasted bread.

“Good.” He said, drinking his coffee.

“Good!” The yellow sponge smiled, as usual, and began to explain the plan for the day. “Because you’ll need to use it today.”

“Will I?”

Smiling, the shorty one took out a piece of paper from his pocket. Then, he unfolded it in front of them both.

It was the flier about the audition for clarinet’s background players.

“Today we’ll start practicing.”

Squidward heard his words and a slight flush rose to his cheeks as well as an ache against his chest. 

He tried focusing on the flier and then he remembered everything that came with it: The prospect of him going on stage, playing in the orchestra together with Alaska, Squilliam being one of the judges, SpongeBob making him believe that he  can  perform greatly…and feeling like he wanted to try it.

He’s much better now.

... and not just physically.

“Yeah.” He smiled, wholeheartedly. He felt  ready . “Let’s practice.”

Chapter Text

“Patrick?”

The starfish was in deep focus. Something no one would understand, but it was extremely important to him that he keeps his attention fixed on that spot on the wall.

“Patriiiick…” SpongeBob called him, waving a hand in front of his eyes.

Blinking, the starfish realized his eyes were dry. Totally dry. To the point of making the simple act of  blinking  hurt a damn lot.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes.

“Did I win?!”

SpongeBob did what he always does when he has absolutely no idea of what his best friend is doing: he looks around, at every possible detail near him that could indicate what the hell he was up to this time, then comes up with a theory weird but believable enough.

He realized there was a Guinness book left open on top of the coffee table.

Connecting the dots was super easy after that.

“Yes! You won!” The yellow guy smiled cheerfully for him, nodding his head and throwing both hands up.

The starfish jumped back, ecstatic.

“I WON!” He cheered, making a dance.

Both of them started to commemorate.

Be it for whatever purpose, SpongeBob was just happy Patrick was happy, and that’s it.

“Here.” The yellow sponge guy gave him a cup of water.

Patrick threw it in his eyes, sighing in pleasure.

The sponge guy gave him a thumbs up.

Squidward, looking at both, just shrugged, not getting himself involved. He remained silent near the stairs with two suitcases.

Once Patrick's eyes were working back he stared at his best friend with surprise.

“SpongeBob!” He greeted. “Did you see what I just did??”

“I saw it buddy.” SpongeBob smiled. “Patrick, can you do me a super-duper-mega-favor?”

Patrick thought for precisely 2.37 seconds.

“Sure, I’m free until the 5th.” He replied.

SpongeBob looked worried.

“Today is the 6th…”

Patrick ooh’ed and looked at the calendar.

It had… nothing written down on it.

He shrugged.

“I guess I’m free.”

“Perfect!” SpongeBob smiled, holding a pair of snails in the air. “Can you take care of Gary and Snellie for three days?”

Patrick looked at the pets with a huge joyful smile.

“Of course, I can!” He picked Gary in the air, gleeful. “Hey little buddy, wanna sleepover?!”

It meowed.

“Excellent!” SpongeBob beamed, lowering Snellie to the floor, together with a bag of food and play toys. “Don’t eat their food, okay?”

Patrick prolonged a syllable, thinking about what else to say instead of replying he can’t promise that.

“Hi, Squidward!” He waved one of his pink hands in the air, once he noticed the octopus man near the entrance.

The other sea creature just nodded his head in acknowledgment, mumbling another greeting. Patrick saw the suitcases on the floor and frowned, confused and worried.

“We are going to leave the city for a while,” SpongeBob explained.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah… remember when I told you someone hired a hitman to kill Squidward…?”

And, while SpongeBob was doing his magic on making Patrick pay attention to something for more than a few seconds, Squidward stood in place, quiet, thinking about everything that took place earlier that day.

It was one hell of a morning…

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

After all the drama from the previous three nights, summed all together into a bowl of mess-up situations and angst, Squidward started that day (after the cup of coffee, of course) realizing he doesn’t need to deal with his internal conflicts  alone . 

His psychology had already alerted him, and he knew it, but stubbornness had ruled him for the past two decades so… he insisted on having the last say.

But not now. Squidward kicked the stubbornness outta his window after that cup of coffee.

He opened the window of his office (slash art room, slash guest room) letting the refreshing seabed air carry away all the negativity he had cultivated in those sad walls with so much effort. He looked at the horizon, taking a deep breath and sighing. —  begone  melancholy,  chooo.

“Alright, I'm ready.” He said, turning towards the door.

Spongebob was there, sitting on a stool, legs dangling aimlessly, and looking at him with a smile on his face.

“Is it okay if I stay?” He asked, to be sure.

Squidward went to the cupboard where he kept his clarinet and took it out.

“Did you lie about liking the song?” The blue creature asked back, sending him a look over his shoulder.

The box where he kept the clarinet was black, shiny, beautiful, and he just hadn't thrown it away because it was of great quality—its origin, however, wasn't the best.

SpongeBob shook his head firmly.

“I didn’t lie! Of course I liked it!”

The oldest, then, took the instrument and approached the tripod that he had already left ready, in the center of the environment.

“Let's see if it's true…”

Squidward took a deep breath and pressed the clarinet to his lips.

He stared at Spongebob as he blew, completely amateurishly, letting a terrible sound echo through the office.

The chef's reaction was to flinch at the stinging noise. He covered one of his ears and then Squidward smiled.

“Is this considered  good  for you?” The cephalopod held a mischievous smile on its mouth, feigning he hadn't done it on purpose.

Spongebob crossed his arms and frowned, reading exactly what he was doing.

“Squiddy, you doin’ that on purpose.”

The octopus continued the farce, staring at the sponge-man.

“Why do you say that? Was it  bad ?” And, to confirm, he played one more time, amateurishly, ugly, wrong, and downright loud.

Spongebob climbed onto the bench he was sitting on and tried to be at the same height as the cephalopod.

“I'm naive, but you're easy to interpret—why are you doing that?”

Squidward looked at him with seriousness.

“... I wanted to see if you were going to lie.”

Spongebob dared to smile at him in a warm and friendly way.

“Fair. But in this situation, I'll only lie if you want me to, buddy.”

Squidward broke his frown and relaxed his body.

“... I'm sorry. I guess it was rude of me.” He started, apologetically.

“You still think I'm helping you just because I’m trying to make you like me or something?”

Squidward widened his eyes for a second, but then he lowered it and shook his head.

“No. That’s not it.” He knows very well that Spongebob would help any of his friends. “But your ability to judge me for the bad things I do may be different from  reality —I mean… you kinda pamper me a lot.”

“What? No, I don’t.” Spongebob snorts a laugh, cheeks flushing.

“Yeah, you do. But I get it—you still like me, so it can’t be helped.”

Spongebob, whose cheekbones started to turn even redder, hopped off the stool and walked to the side of the studio/office, ignoring the awkwardness around them. He picked up two copper trays (drum cymbals?) and slammed them together. Hard. The noise was so loud that it made Squidward flinch, closing his eyes in pain.

When he looked up again, Spongebob was returning to the stool, his cheeks slightly less reddened.

“Can you  please  not embarrass me for something that isn’t a secret to anyone?” The sponge man grumbled.

Squidward felt the corner of his lips curves in a cheeky grin.

“Nah, it's funny.” He said, pretending he didn't have a smile hidden on his face.

He pressed the musical instrument back to his mouth, then concentrated.

He closed his eyes, remembering the beginning of the decor. Began to play—the notes came out lightly. Part in cartoon form, the other just as sound. The musical sequences began to dance in the studio, circling around them. Through the open window, some began to leave.

The melody was great. It seemed like a composition based on the spring season: the green of the grass, the blue of the sky, the color of the flowers, and the yellow of the sun.

And then, his full attention was ripped away with a  bang . The clatter of iron plates against each other cut off his complete concentration.

His whole body shook. The clarinet almost fell from his hands.

Squidward opened his eyes, throwing an angry look at his yellow neighbor.

“Why did you do that?!” He groaned.

The sponge man tried to hide behind one of the disks. But he looked over the edge of it, fearfully and answering.

“Sorry, buddy. You got the notes wrong. And you weren't listening to me.”

Squidward blinked, astonished. Then, he relaxed his body and blushed. He... hadn't noticed the mistake.

“Oh…okay.” He replied, embarrassed.

Three days ago, he would have been very angry at being interrupted. But that's because he rarely has anyone present when he's practicing a score. Spongebob was helping him, there was no reason to be angry with him.

“I said I wasn't going to lie…” The younger boy replied, trying to explain. Most of his body was still hidden behind one of the iron plates. Just his blue eyes and nose were out.

Squidward looked at him and forced a smile.

“Yeah, sorry, you're right. You can hit that.” 

“You sure?” SpongeBob looked at him warily. 

“Yes. I  hated  it, so it might work.” He kept smiling at that cautiously yellow face. “After all, I'm going to play on a stage. It needs to come out perfect.”

“When you get tired, just say so. We still have four days to go.”

Squidward nodded in agreement. Drumming his fingers on the clarinet and lifting it to his mouth again. But, before blowing and starting again from scratch, he stopped.

“You know…” Maybe it wasn't the best time, but the studio was calm and silent. There weren't two annoying people screaming in the backyard, and the feeling of having someone in the same room as him while practicing was really good. “Once they catch the guy who wants to kill me, even if I don't make it into the orchestra, I still appreciate your help.”

SpongeBob showed up from above the metal disk and rested his arms on the edge, looking up at Squidward with an adorable goofy grin on his face.

“And I appreciate that you let  me  help you with this.”

Squidward bit his lips. He looked at the clarinet again and opened his mouth to blurt out a simple question—but didn't because Spongebob continued.

“ Positivity ! I  know  you'll make it! Because with enough  effort  and  hard work --” 

Squidward rolled his eyes and shook his head, completely ignoring whatever crossed his mind.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I got it.” And then he went back to practice.

While playing, Squidward focused on doing a good job. He tried his best not to miss the notes, but it was common for SpongeBob to hit that horrible instrument at least every 2 or 3 minutes.

They continued at this for at least twenty or thirty minutes, until Squidward gave up and got some rest. They had made progress, which was funny because he hadn't felt this worn out in a long time.—Half the work but twice the effort, maybe.

SpongeBob made them a drink. Pineapple with mint or something like that. They sat by the studio window, drinking and chatting.

“You own a  leather jacket ?!”

“Do you not?” Squidward retorted, playfully. “Your twenties were  boring .”

“I’dn’t say that.” SpongeBob defended himself, shrugging. “I mean, sure, I wasn't as  cool  as you and your friends, but I don't regret it.”

Squidward looked at the ceiling, thoughtful. Then, he snorted a complicated laugh, through his nose.

“I can't call them that. Friends don't lie and they usually stay by your side when you need them, rather than abandoning you.” He said, leaning on the chair, resting an arm on the back of it, and looking at Spongebob with a grateful smile on his face. “At least that's what I learned.”

The sponge man smiled back, showing contagious happiness, with everything it was entitled to: eyes closed, cheeks rosy, teeth bared in a big smile, and stars swaying around his square head.

"Yep!"

Squidward raised his glass in the air, toasting the juice. Spongebob did the same, mega gleeful.

The octopus’ position in the chair began to bother his injured arm. Fortunately, it was almost flawless, but Squidward had been pushing it enough while practicing, so it would be good to keep him in a position that didn't make the situation  worse .

The cook sipped his juice, eyeing the wound.

“Officer Muray said he would be in charge of investigating the theater, but... if he doesn't find anything in time for the auditions, what do we do?” His voice was low, even if it didn't need to be since they were alone there.

“I've thought about it a lot too…” Squidward took a deep breath and then sighed. “If we don't find anything by then, we can use the audition as an ambush.”

“But isn't it dangerous?”

“Yes, but it is also the best choice.” He started, going over what was wandering in his head. “This person hired a  hitman , which means they don't like to get his hands dirty. However, they also hired him personally, on the sly, which means they're afraid of exposing themselves. This person was double careful and assertive giving half the money upfront and my name. So they wanted it to be quick before rumors could spread… Perhaps they are influential and have something to lose if people find out.” Spongebob was amazed at Squidward’s mystery-solving ability. His eyes sparkled with admiration. “Because of this, they won't hire another hitman. They are most likely thinking about how to do it themselves without a fuss. Going to the theater is dangerous, yes, but it is also the quickest way to find out who they are. Because they certainly won't miss the chance of striking again.”

The sponge man continued to look at him in awe, but the only thing he managed to answer was a small whistle, showing that he was truly impressed.

“Wow, Squiddy, you're good at this.”

“Thanks, but it's all theory.” Squidward replied, looking at those blue eyes and saying something that had been stuck in him since the day before. “I mean… it doesn't seem to be a recent hatred, right? And I can only think of  one  person who fits all these points and might hate me enough to do that.”

He didn’t need to say out loud who it was, both knew who he was talking about. 

Squidward just lifted his glass and took another sip of juice, unphased.

“ What ? But why would he do that to you? I mean… didn’t you two date?”

Squidward just sent him a look.

They both know what it's like to break up with someone toxic, so there’s no need to get into the subject. But, either way, that wasn’t the real  reason  why Squidward suspects his ex-boyfriend.

In fact, he had nearly written Squilliam off right at the start. But after last night, he started to think more about that possibility.

“Accent…” He started, telling his theory. “Squilliam is from the same theater as Alaska, right? They're friends. And Officer Muray said the contractor has an  accent …” Without even changing his facial expression, he continued. “Squilliam is from Atlantis. He knows how to control his accent to pretend he's someone else. I've seen him do it several times to deceive others.”

Spongebob stared into his friend's red eyes, frowning, then looked down at the ice in his glass. It melted, keeping his drink cold (as it usually works).

Silence reigned in that studio for a few seconds, until the younger boy decided to answer honestly about his point of view.

“I don't think it’s him... I mean, I don't know much about your past, and I respect that you don't want to share, but that doesn't seem to be the case.”

“Why not?” Squidward arched an eyebrow, suspecting his neighbor knew something he did not.

Spongebob avoided eye contact. His fingers played with the cup in his hand.

“Because Squilliam looks at you differently when you're not looking back.”

That phrase caught him off guard. That was certainly something he had never heard before.

“... different? How so?”

Spongebob's cheekbones reddened as his fingers continued to play with the glass.

“... Hmmmm… like  me , probably…” He spoke, in a low tone, slowly, biting his lips. “I mean, he's a lot more  discreet  about it. But I can’t help but  notice , you know? Each of us… has our own way of getting your attention.”

If the silence before had reigned, this one was divided and  deafening . 

Squidward didn't even know how to handle that information —  That's why they compete on who drives him  crazier ???

He stared at his neighbor's embarrassed face, with its wide red eyes, open mouth, and nearly empty glass of juice in his hand.

Spongebob tried to keep his gaze fixed on the window.

“ WHAT ?!” Squidward shouted, voiceless, dragging a thin sharp noise out of it.

The youngest flinched, wondering if this was a good time or not for such an intimate subject.

Suddenly, a combo of thoughts and doubts crossed Squidward’s mind. He shook his head, not getting into that thought process right now. He rose from his chair, turning his juice glass over and placing it on one of the nearby surfaces.

SpongeBob continued quietly, flushing. Probably afraid of Squidward hating him even more. — The cephalopod just lifted one of his hands and rubbed it against the head of the yellow sponge, as if he could mess up his non-existential hair, trying to rid them of the awkwardness.

When the younger man looked up at him, Squidward forced a smile, waving his clarinet in the air.

“None of this is true. Pure nonsense. Let's go back to practice, ok?”

And without waiting for an answer, he already started playing.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“Mommy, look!” A child shouted, pointing at the window of one of the stores. “They made a pumpkin witch!”

Squidward looked at the other side of the street, in the window of the store there was, indeed, a crafted pumpkin witch.

Not only in that store, but in the street, several spooky decorations have already started to be hung. After all, autumn is symbolic of many things, and one of them is definitely Halloween.

“Shiiiiiit, I had forgotten that Halloween is a week away," Spongebob commented. “I guess I won’t go candy-hunting this year.” 

The octopus ignored the comment and continued to walk toward the supermarket.

The weather wasn't the best. Despite it being morning, a rain cloud was flying over the city making the weather slightly colder, windier and darker.

The sky wasn’t beautiful, but the refrigerator was a little empty since there were now two people using it. They decided to take a longer break from clarinet practice and get out of the house for fresh air and stock up on food.

As SpongeBob watched some people hanging up children's costumes and creepy paraphernalia outside, on the streets, windows, and doors, out of the corner of his blue eyes, he noticed a strange movement.

He stopped. Turned to check and saw a cloaked person next to two other people talking about costumes. As it could be just that,  Halloween , he ignored.

Looking back, he noticed Squidward several meters ahead.

“Oh, Squiddy! Wait for me!”

“You're too slow.”

SpongeBob ran to catch up with him and when he looked over one shoulder, back to the cloaked figure, he didn’t see anyone.

“I have a bad feeling… S-should we really have left the house? I mean, are we safe?” The yellow guy inquired.

“No one is crazy enough to try something inside a supermarket. We’ll be fine.”

SpongeBob nodded, trying to relax.

The front door of the Barg'N-Mart opened and Squidward held out a hand — palm up.

The short yellow sea creature saw it and just as quickly placed his own hand on top.

Squidward felt a slight embarrassment to feel someone else's fingers touching his sensitive palm. Then he frowned and slapped SpongeBob's hand, showing his palm up again.

“Gimme the  list .”

Oooh’ing while blushing, the sea sponge took a folded paper out of his pocket, handing it over. Squidward took it and headed toward the carts.

“I'll push the cart. You fill it.”

SpongeBob took the opportunity to check out the first shelves: the Fall promotions were quite attractive.

As they started going over the aisles, stocking the cart with the necessary groceries, SpongeBob let that nagging feeling of foreboding go away. The experience of "going shopping" with Squidward was so…  domestic  that he found himself feeling more and more excited.

While he read the product labels, Squidward read the prices. Spongebob would comment on nutritional tips and the blue octopus would retort with brand experiences and dubious expiration dates.

After a few minutes, it was easy to see that reaching an agreement was relatively easy.

“And what do you think of these pickled shrimp? Have you tried them?”

The octopus, leaning on the cart, looked between the shopping list and the little guy in front of him gesticulating a bottle in the air.

That wasn’t written down on the list, but he indulged in the conversation.

“Yeah. They used to be my favorite until I tried your mother's recipe.”

SpongeBob laughs at that characteristic sound of his and then places the bottle in the cart along with the other items.

“Ah-ha! I knew you liked it!” SpongeBob smiled a wide cheeky grin like he caught the fish he was waiting for. “She’s still waiting for your feedback, you know.”

Squidward grinned playfully.

“ Fine , I’ll tell her next time.”

A woman passing by giggled at how domestic their conversation was, and Squidward frowned, embarrassed, changing the subject.

He pushed the cart to start walking again.

“This is taking too long. Go pick oysters. I'll get some chum.” He turned on the aisle, hearing SpongeBob’s reply on the back.

“Oookay!” The yellow guy singsonged, going in another direction, cheeks red. Probably heard the same thing.

A few meters away from each other, the lights flickered.

Squidward shivered, holding on to the cart’s handle.

He glanced over one shoulder but didn't see anyone suspicious. The aisle was empty. Spongebob was quick to run out of there. 

Shook his head, Squidward went to the butchery.

The butcher shop was understaffed at the moment, perhaps an early holiday so as not to conflict with the festivities. He stopped the cart next to the freezers and then began to study the prices and types of cuts already packaged and available for purchase.

He was focused on the options, mindlessly thinking of interesting dishes to eat for two, until he realized that he wasn’t alone.

As he was choosing — among the options — the best type of minced meat, the lights went out.

The octopus man jerked in fright. His eyes widened in surprise. He lifted his head, looking at the dimmed lights, trying to understand what was happening. He noticed the lack of backup power. Not only the light, but the emergency alerts were also out of order too.

It wasn't completely dark, after all, it was morning. He could see very well but a heavy gloom overshadowed all surroundings. 

Mainly where he was at the moment since the freezers were at the farthest back of the market.

He heard a child crying and employees talking. He tried to control his nerves. He tried to tell himself that it was just a coincidence. He tried to go back to where he had left the cart, but when he turned around, he noticed that he was no longer alone.

There was a shadow standing behind him.

Squidward saw it from the corner of his eyes. He froze on the spot, waiting.

He could barely tell if it was a man, a woman, or just a ghost. Looked like a dark-cloaked figure.

Squidward felt the back of his neck prickle and he swallowed hard. 

The figure didn't move. It stood in place, ominously.

With cautiousness, Squidward spoke.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” His voice was low, just so he and the other person could hear.

In response, he heard a dry sound of muffled laughter—as if his words had outraged the person behind the black robes.

Squidward tried to look around, to scan his peripheral vision, to find people who might be looking at them. There had never been a more inopportune time to NOT be surrounded by annoying people.

Where’s SpongeBob?  — … urgh, went for oysters.

Damnit.

The hooded person took a step forward, even closer to the back of Squidward.

Then, the octopus man felt, through his shirt, something being pressed against his spine. 

His breathing quickened. His hands shook and sweated. 

He stuttered.

“W-what did I do to you?” He arches backward, trying to avoid the pressure that could be anything. Even a f*cking sharp knife.

Then, finally, Squidward heard a  voice . 

“You are my  torment .” 

Those words caused a series of confused and frightening feelings in the cephalopod.

To begin with, it didn’t sound natural. It seemed purposefully forced into another accent. And yet, deep down was somehow familiar. And for seconds, it doesn't make sense. How was he a torment to anyone?

“ How ?” He replied, eyes glued on the freezer door, trying to check the reflex of his hunter. He couldn't see much besides a hooded person. “I don’t even know you.”

“Of course you do.” The voice answered, with that same fake, menacing tone. “I made  sure  of it.”

Squidward felt the pressure on his back harden, the sharpness hurting him. 

His instincts kicked in. He used one of his four legs to kick the guy as he threw himself in the opposite direction—getting space between them. His body launched forward. A hand held his leg. He turned around in time to see the hooded figure clench the handle of the knife upside down and raise it in the air. 

Squidward’s body began falling into the floor slowly watching the killer lower his arm forcefully towards his middle section, in a clear plan to  stab him .

Facing each other, Squidward could see in their face a smooth mask. It was white. Only the eyes were half-exposed: red, large, and full of hate. Squidward tried to recognize them, but it was almost impossible because the only thing on his mind at the moment was dodging that damned knife.

When his back was about to hit the ground, two of his remaining back legs pushed him out of the way. Dodging the knife, he jumped back, away from the spot he was going to land. 

The hooded figure noticed what he did but before he could try anything, Squidward countered.

With the remaining leg of the four, he kicked his chin.

The hooded and ominous killer groaned in pain. Dropping his leg. The mask on his face cracked and a small piece of it fell to the ground.

Squidward took the opportunity to get away from reach-distance and crawled in the opposite direction. Clumsily, the slayer staggered back. He pressed a hand to the hole in his mask, to cover his skin and sent the octopus a vengeance look.

And then, standing up, Squidward saw the black cape sway as the person ran away.

He got up, euphoric, and the first thing he thought of shouting was:

“THIEVE!” 

Still covered by the inner gloom of the market, people started screaming and running from one side to the other in fright. This hindered the hooded man, but he cut the path, entering one of the narrow corridors and disappearing from sight.

Squidward ran after him, trying to catch at least another glimpse of who the guy was, but as soon as he got there, he was faced with Mr. Krabs and Plankton.

The crab man was holding a basket with beverage cans stacked to the top, that ended up falling all over the ground when they collided.

Squidward lost his balance stepping on a can, almost slipping.

“Hey-yo, sailor, calm down!” Exclaimed the crawfish catching his employee before he fell to the ground. “Why the hurry? It's just a lack of light.”

Squidward braced his feet and looked for any sign of the stalker. 

“Did you see a hooded man run through here?!”

Plankton looked at the crab and snorted in irony.

“See?! I told ya it was suspicious!”

“It's  halloween , I thought it was just a lunatic. SpongeBob used to do that.”

“Tell me WHERE!” Squidward shouted.

Plankton pointed to the end of the corridor, even though he was still talking to Mr. Krabs.

“As I said, the electrical failure wasn’t  accidental . Didn't you hear the  circuit burn ?” 

“... Of course  not . How could you possibly--”

Plankton rolled his eyes and groaned.

“It’s my  field , Eugine, I know what I’m talking about!”

Squidward dodges them all and runs to the end of the hall, looking around the shelves for any sign of his pursuer.

At that moment the sponge guy appears running from another roll of shelves. He was panting, and wide-eyed.

He looked at Squidward just as scared as him.

“Oh, thankgodyouarehere.” He stopped, breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. Then stood in front of Squidward, holding his tears, sobbing. “I shouldn't have gone looking for living oysters in the dark! One of them bit me!”

Squidward, then, placed both hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

"That's all? You okay?"

SpongeBob was taken aback by the pressing attitude, and just ended up nodding, sucking on his injured finger. 

"Y-yes, it was just a pinch."

"Great. Now focus! Did you see a hooded guy?!”

SpongeBob's mouth dropped open in surprise and panic.

“WHAT?! They were here?!" His voice rose along with the desperation. In a heartbeat, the little yellow lad started checking up Squidward's sides to make sure he was in perfect condition. "I had a bad feeling from the start! Are YOU okay?! What happened?!” 

A part of him didn't want to tell. A part of him didn't want to involve SpongeBob any more in this than he already was. But most wanted to answer him honestly, because they were friends, and he  cared . So, Squidward takes a deep breath in and then sighs the dread away.

“... I almost got stabbed.” 

SpongeBob's eyes widened, his shoulders slumped and all the color of his face drowned until it was completely white. A soul started to come out of his mouth.

Squidward shook his body, calling him for reality.

“ Don't faint .” He pleaded, shaking him even more. “We don't have time for this. I need you to help me. Please, focus!”

SpongeBob recovered, swallowing cold, shivering, biting his own lips, and nodding in agreement.

“We need to call the police!” The shorty one said, picking up his phone.

“We need to check the cameras first.” Squidward replied. “They can't do anything unless we get a clue on who this guy is.”

“It ain’t one.”

Plankton’s voice spoke up, surprising them both.

“... what?” Squidward asked.

Mr. Krabs approached with Plankton standing in the middle of his eyes, looking at them both.

“Sorry to say this, but this stalker of yours… ain’t working alone.” SpongeBob and Squidward were staring at Plankton as if he’d grown another antenna. “It would be impossible for him to power off the whole place and leave without help.”

The cephalopod holds the back of his neck, staring down at the ground, processing the info. SpongeBob, much quicker, let out a curse muffled by dolphin sounds.

“But that’s… That’s even  worse …” 

The lights then suddenly flash again. It blinked to life. Through the walls an almost imperceptible  zuuumziiiiiip  noise resounded, and after a few more seconds the light came on.

Plankton stepped on his spot between Mr. Krabs' eyes and pointed to the ceiling.

“Did you hear it now?!”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it does.”

“Where is the generator for this place?” Squidward asked him.

“Where all the generators tend to be,” With the hurried look they all gave him, Plankton jumped down from Mr. Krabs and guided them all. “Com’on, it’s in the back.”

After entering the restricted area and reaching the site's generator, everyone saw two maintenance workers talking about what happened.

They questioned them and received as an answer what everyone already expected.

“The power cables have all been cut.”

“But what about the cameras, did they catch anything?” SpongeBob asked fearfully.

“As far as we’ve been checking, whoever did this also disabled the emergency cameras.”

Squidward groaned, nailing at the back of his neck. SpongeBob, tho, was fast in making him stop before he could hurt himself.

“We should notify the authorities. They need to reinforce security around us.”

Squidward let out a sick and spiteful laugh, making SpongeBob jump back.

“He has been stalking me ever since I got shot, Spongebob. Don’t you see?!” The blue octopus looked into his eyes with indignation and withdrawal. It wasn’t SpongeBob’s fault, he was trying to help, but the mix of despair and hatred inside him was too strong to hold back. “He was waiting for me to be apart from you. At any moment, at any time. He didn’t think twice when trying to stab me near the freezers. He doesn’t want to hurt you, just me.”

“Should we leave the city, then?” He asked, trying to help, worried. “I mean, we can go to my parent’s farm for a while--”

Squidward took his hands off his shoulder and sighed, shaking his head.

“No, that's a terrible idea and I’m not even talking about the lie.” He frowned, rubbing the middle of his eyes. “I can’t risk putting anyone in danger. I don’t know how far this guy will go to kill me.”

“What do we do, then? Stay in forever?”

Squidward frowned, rubbing at his chin, thinking. 

“I can’t think of a better plan than to stick with what I told you earlier. We need to arrange an ambush. Otherwise, we’ll live in fear.”

“But the audition is in 4 days, Squiddy. It’s too long to be trapped inside the house and too little to come up with a good enough plan for an ambush.” SpongeBob had a point.

Squidward groaned again, feeling all the anger drain away and the fear started to take over.

“You know, I can help with that.” And, once again, out of nowhere, Plankton's voice surprised everyone. “If there’s something I’m better than that squirrel girl, it’s in traps, defense, and armory.” 

His voice became thick, sinister, and slightly vengeful. Not about the wrongdoers, but possibly because he still hadn't gotten over the breakup.

“Yeah, he's right about that.” Mr. Krabs pointed at the short one, kinda proud. “The amount of deadly equipment I saw in his lab yesterday was staggering.”

The small green creature placed both hands on its hips and grinned devilishly, proud of itself.

“I have a gift.” He jumped high and then climbed onto the shoulder of the big red crab. “Leave it to me, I can come up with a foolproof plan to catch that bad guy.”

SpongeBob's eyes gleamed as he felt relief wash over him.

“Ohmygod-- thank you so much Plankton!”

Squidward, slightly suspicious, squinted at Mr. Krabs and Plankton for a second.

The little green villain rarely does something without getting anything in return. Especially looking like best buddies with Mr. Krabs.

“... for free?” He asked.

Mr. Krabs and Plankton looked at each other and laughed out loud.

Squidward groaned, pulling up his nose in a grumble.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

SpongeBob touched his arm and reassured him he'd be of help.

“Don't worry, buddy. We can deal with that later.”

On the way out of the market, they all decided to make a quick trip to the Chum-bucket. 

Plankton said he might have something ready to keep Squidward’s house safe until he decides what he wants to do.

When they arrived, Spongebob was the first to comment on the state of the place: although it looked the same as it had always been, there were several cans and cases of beer and other drinks scattered around the counters. And, from the bag full of other beverages in Mr. Krabs’ hand, the state would continue for a few days.

“Woow…. you seem to be handling the breakup pretty…  well ...”

Mr. Krabs pressed one of his claws against the yellow man's mouth and sent a "shuuuush" with the other.

Plankton didn’t seem to care about the comment and just replied with a heavy sigh.

“It's fine, Eugene. I'm not mad.” Plankton jumped on one of the workbenches and started to look around for something while talking and explaining. “Just look at this place. It's obvious I'm taking it rough.”

Squidward, inside the restaurant, looked at him with a new and rare kind of empathy. 

Normally he would have stayed quiet… maybe SpongeBob is rubbing off on him.

“Nah, I’d say you are taking that like a champ.” He shrugged. “At least I'm not seeing any empty tissue boxes or ice cream tubs.”

SpongeBob and Mr. Krabs looked at him with widened eyes. That was, indeed, unexpected.

Plankton snorted.

“That’s because my sadness has nothing to do with longing.” 

With that explanation, all three turned to look at him with even more surprise.

“I thought about it a lot…” The little green villain's voice faded as he opened a box on top of the counter and searched inside. The others remained silent just listening to him. “When I built her and when we got married, I was two different people. But deep down, in my head, I always considered her my  property . That I’d always be enough for her, no matter what I say or do.” He took a deep breath and removed a pair of keys from the box. “But now I see her side. I was a bad husband. She was unhappy, and I don't blame her for leaving.”

A few seconds of silence later, kind smiles appeared on the lips of the other men standing there.

SpongeBob pressed a hand to his chest, feeling proud.

Squidward nodded in agreement. Plankton had really matured. It was...amazing to see  that  character development, especially coming from the little villain.

And Mr. Krabs, smiling widely, let out a laugh. Lifting the bag in the air, he approached Plankton standing on the bench with a cheeky grin.

“So we are drinking because of sorrows  and  self-loathing?”

Plankton retorted with another laugh, hands on hips and a brief blush on his cheeks.

“Ain't we always?”

“Yeah, but you should’ve told me sooner, I would have pointed out more of your flaws.” Mr. Krabs laughs inwardly, in that low-key way without much noise.

Plankton slapped the crab's claw pointing at his face. Jumping up and grabbing the other man's thin, curled nose.

“Don't start something you'ren’t going to win, geezer-shell.”

Squidward and SpongeBob remained silent, watching the scene and exchanging glances.

After a brief spat between the older men, Plankton completely ignores his former best friend's playful threat and guides everyone to the back of his lab.

The place was big and full of paraphernalia, there were two mattresses on the side with several cans and bottles piled up and a lot of playing cards—but they decided to ignore it.

Amidst the metal and mechanical parts, there were several types of deadly weapons.

Squidward wondered for a moment how Mr. Krabs had the nerve to drink with Plankton inside such a dangerous place.

“Here.” Unlocking a padlock to a dusty cupboard in the corner, Plankton opened it and moths began to run away, swimming into the air. “My best disguises and spy equipment.”

“Yar kidding right?”

Plankton turns around to look deadly serious at the three of them.

“HEY! These beauties helped me infiltrate and steal King Neptune second’s best crown.”

“How come you can’t steal the damn secret formula then?”

“We ain’t discussing that now, Eugine. Just believe me, the plan is foolproof.”

Squidward sighs, crossing his arms.

“Okay, convince me.”

“First of all, you cannot know.”

Squidward and SpongeBob bark a ‘ what? ’ in unison, and Mr. Krabs just rolls his eyes again. 

“Listen!” Plankton continued. “Less you know, the less will you spill if they catch you. For it to be foolproof, no fool can know.”

Squidward throws his arms up and just gives up.

“Okay, do as you like. I don't care anymore. I’m going home.” He turned towards the door.

The stress was piling up. The market accident was still fresh, leaving him on the verge of a new attack. He just wanted to go home, put the goods in the fridge, eat something, take a shower, and pass out for a few hours.

“Plankton, are you serious?” SpongeBob asks, looking back at Squidward and the other two.

“Hey, I  am  being serious. You can believe it.” The short one replied.

Mr. Krabs places a claw hand on SpongeBob’s shoulder and reassures him with a nod.

“If he says so, it's true, boy. Believe him.”

Sighing and nodding, he turns towards the door and runs to find Squidward. It was best not to take his friend out of sight now.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:- 

On their way home, Squidward and SpongeBob decide to take a taxi. It would be better, and safer, and this way they would be able to take the groceries without effort.

“So for now... we go with the stay-at-home plan?”

“What else can we do? I mean... we still have four days.”

SpongeBob bit his lip, holding back the idea that had popped into his mind again and kept silent.

When the vehicle stopped and Squidward opened the door, the first thing he noticed wasn't his house, it was the presence of someone standing in front of it.

Even sideways, propped up, waiting for him, his physiognomy was unmistakable.

He hurriedly entered again, closing the door.

SpongeBob — who was paying for the ride — turned to him in confusion.

Squidward gave him a serious look and then said.

“Squilliam is here.”

SpongeBob also widened his eyes, confused and surprised. Looking through the vehicle window and checking the information.

The person standing in front of the door of Squidward's house, in fact, was Squilliam.

“... what now?”

“I can't rule out the possibility that he’s involved. But I heard that hooded man's voice in the market and I know it's not him.”

“Perhaps he knows who it is?” SpongeBob asked.

Squidward looked out the window and noticed that Squilliam was staring back at the taxi, unibrow half raised and arms crossed.

“... don't mention anything regarding Alaska and the audition.” The blue octopus sighed and opened the car door. “I'm already too stressed trying to  survive . I'm not in the mood to be bullied.” 

As they approached the front door, bags in hand and in the crook of an arm, Squidward ignored any nervous feelings inside him to simply frown and stare at Squilliam as SpongeBob unlocked the front door.

Squilliam, leaning against the side wall of the entryway, in his usual chic attire that more closely resembled an expensive burgundy bathrobe, crossed his arms.

“ Shopping ? How domestic of you two.”

“So what?” Squidward replied in a heartbeat, frowning.

“Made me wait almost an hour.” Squilliam retorted, standing and adjusting his back. Also frowning.

“Your choice. You have my number.” His answers were dry, quick, and accurate.

Squilliam started to get annoyed.

“If I'd called you, you wouldn't have answered.”

Well, that was true. Surely—especially with everything that had happened that morning and the days before—he wouldn't have answered Squilliam’s call.

SpongeBob remained silent, opening the door and then stepping inside. Squidward took the cue to follow, abandoning Squilliam and his irritating aura.

The other blue octopus, outraged by the boldness, entered the house right behind both of them and closed the door.

Squidward rolled his eyes and handed the groceries to his yellow friend. This way one would deal with it, while the other dealt with the  nuisance .

“What do you want, Squilliam?”

“I want to talk to you.” He replied, sitting down on the armchair and crossing (two of) his legs.

“Fine, I’m here. Spill it.” Squidward gestures with a tentacle in the air without much patience.

Squilliam, slightly annoyed by the other man's abrupt and uncharacteristic rudeness, casts a glance into the kitchen, seeing SpongeBob appear sporadically as he paced back and forth putting away the goods.

Raising one of his tentacles into a tight fist, he coughed discreetly.

“Alone.”

Squidward didn't even take a second to retort.

“SpongeBob isn't going anywhere.”

His statement took them both by surprise. The sponge man, in the kitchen, eavesdropping, had already hurried to put away what necessarily needed refrigeration even before Squilliam asked for privacy, but when Squidward defended his presence there—his cheeks reddened.

Of course… he would feel bad, especially after what happened earlier today. He didn't want to leave Squidward alone, even more so in the presence of someone suspected to be involved, but... hearing his best friend (and platonic crush) say that, was undeniably comforting.

Squilliam, caught off guard by the protective attitude, snarled and rolled his eyes.

“Urgh,  fine , at least gimme something to drink. I’m thirsty. You really made me wait almost an hour there…”

Since they all knew SpongeBob was listening, the boy quickly served the unwanted guest a cup of fresh water.

“Didn’t know you were close,” Squilliam commented, sipping on his drink. Eyeing both. Mainly Squidward. “Are you living together now?”

The owner of that house just sat on the couch and crossed his arms, equally serious.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Squilliam shrugged.

“So why are you here?” Something in that initial conversation was already giving indications that Squilliam wasn't there to kill him, he just couldn't say what it was.

“I…” The man took a deep breath, then he took a sip from his glass of water and finally sighed. It was quick, calm, and with a slight dose of contained emotion. “I came to help.”

Squidward frowned, completely confused.

“ Help ?”

First of all, to put this briefly in context: at no point in his life, after their relationship ended, did Squilliam even think of helping him with anything. It had always been the other way around, so this was very suspicious and strange, to say the least.

But before Squilliam could receive a barrage of questions (or valid criticism) he continued.

“Yeah, I heard about what happened to you. At the restaurant.” Squidward kept his face straight, waiting for him to explain further. Squilliam's voice was slightly lower as if he was a little embarrassed to comment on this despite his determination. “I am an influential person in this city. This kind of information just  reaches  my ears without even looking for it.” 

The statement came out so fast that it sounded pretty fake. 

“ Anyway , I have some friends at the police department, so when I heard what happened, I pulled some strings and put the best of them on your case.”

The fact that Squilliam had influential friends in several areas of the city did not surprise him. The fact that he purposely did this, yes.

He wanted to ask lots and lots of things, mainly "why", but that brought up a new question—a question he had never considered before, and which now made  perfect sense .

“It was you who sent Officer Muray to check on me, weren’t you?”

Squilliam lifted the glass of water to his lips once more and almost spit on it. He masks his surprise and wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. Then he swallowed, avoiding eye contact. 

“... yeah, he’s a friend.”

SpongeBob opened his mouth in shock, gaping.

Squidward didn’t, he  knew  there was something fishy about that guy.

“Do you have something to do with the weird questions too?” He rose from the sofa, staring down at Squilliam. It was the first time he had dared to do this to anyone who was hierarchically above him in terms of power and money, but he didn't care. After everything that had happened, he was a new man. “Was it you who told him to ask whether we are a  thing  or not?”

Squilliam looks stunned. His cheeks flushed. He held his breath for a second and started to stutter.

“I-I did not!”

Squidward stepped closer, he looked at him with even more seriousness and scolding. Maybe he trained enough with SpongeBob. After so long, it was relatively easier to pretend he holds control of the situation.

“... why are you here, Squilliam? For real? Are you involved with this mess? Are you the one who sent that hitman to kill me?”

At that moment, Squilliam rose from the sofa in complete outrage and faced Squidward with concern and urgency for the first time in  two decades .

“WHAT?! Of course not! Why would I--” He raised both hands in the air and started to explain. It was a lot of information mixed up and barely any made sense. “Ok, look, I asked Officer Muray to check the info I heard, yes, but it has  nothing  to do with the case of who wanted to shoot you!”

Squidward adjusted his back, frowning.

“Check  what  info?”

“I heard… you married.”

…

Squidward stared at Squilliam as if he had grown two heads. Then, he opened his mouth, in shock, uttering gibberish syllables, completely caught off guard, and then he heard SpongeBob curse and slap his own forehead.

When they stared at each other, the short yellow sponge guy was completely flushed and feeling guilty—mostly because he didn't believe his friend, and started an unnecessary fight the day before over imaginary jealousy. But also because,  godf*ckingdamnit , it happened because of his silly lie?! 

Squidward, then, squeezed the joint of his eyes and sighed.

He wanted to get back to the subject, ask where he'd heard it from—but the answer didn't matter now. He could ask that later.

What he really wanted to know now, and possibly the most complicated question he'd ever asked Squilliam in all those years apart, was:

“Why does it matter?”

This time, the overreaction was Squilliam's. He crossed his arms in defense. He took a step back and started to shrug.

“It doesn’t.” He replied, giving a forced laugh. “I just-- I mean, as far as I remember you  hated  him. Not to mention types and all. I was just curious to know if it was silly gossip.”

Squidward was no fool. Squilliam was shaken, he was hiding something.

He raised a finger, pointing at the other cephalopod's face.

“Let me see if I got it right: You heard I married Spongebob, so you used your influence to send a  police officer  to ask me if it was true. And when I told him we were just friends, you came here to see for yourself because-- you were…  relieved ??” 

Squilliam frowned in irritation. His arms were still crossed.

But his face was slightly red.

“W-what are you insinuating?!” He shouted back, in defense.

Then, all of a sudden, Squidward realizes what he had just said. He took a second to listen to his own words. To place pieces together. Not just a few, but many of them.

He widened his eyes, lowered his hand, and oh-so-slowly, he replied in a low, horrified voice.

“Ohmygod… spongebob was right.” He wished Squillion was involved with the murderous stalker, but that wasn’t the case at all. “... you still like me.”

A deafening silence reigned through the living room.

There was nothing more catastrophic than what had just happened—in the presence of those who had witnessed it.

Squilliam obviously started laughing.

The laughter was loud. Strong. It bordered somewhere between a mock and despair.

And it didn't help at all.

“HAHAHAHA  What? ” And as expected, came denial and taunt. “You NUTs??! Pffff, no way. God, you  wish . HAH! Nonono no. You're  crazy .”

The long nose swung as the laughter echoed.

“...” Squidward remained silent. Just contemplating how bizarre his life had turned out to be in the early fall.

“...” SpongeBob seemed to be waiting readily for the ground to swallow him whole. Which he hoped would happen soon.

Once Squilliam realized he hadn't managed to break the mood. He felt his hands start to sweat.

Squidward’s eyes trembled with the pent-up stress.

“... god, you’re crazier than him.” 

SpongeBob at least had the decency to apologize.

“OH, SHUT UP!!!!! OKAY?! YOU ALMOST DIED. GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK.” Squilliam yelled, his face finally erupting into a reddened hue of embarrassment and rage. “I’m not here so you can rub this shit on my face! I’m over you, I even engaged once!” He raised a naked finger in the air. “It didn’t work out, but at least I'm not like  certain people  who use relationships as an emotional bracket because they don't get over a damn platonic crush!” Squilliam, then, pointed his words at the sponge boy beside him, redirecting his anger at the poor guy who had barely spoken since entering that house.

SpongeBob gasped in outrage. His face split in sadness. Suddenly he was hearing those hard truths and his eyes filled with tears. It was something from years ago, but Squilliam wasn't wrong. Deep down he still felt very bad about it all, despite having made the right choice to end things. 

Embracing the overwhelming distress, SpongeBob pointed his yellow finger back at the blue unibrow octopus, retorting the nasty criticism.

“At least I've always been honest about my feelings. You don't understand anything about healthy relationships, how could you understand what I went through?”

Squidward gets up from the couch, shaking his head and trying to break up the fight.

HE was the one who should be screaming and having a tantrum, not those two.

“Oy, chill out.”

But did they stop? Of course not.

“You talk as if ONE MONTHS-OLD toxic relationship could teach you how to be a great partner. Well, believe me, it doesn't. Or I’d be the most  amazing  person on these seven seas.” Squilliam groaned, throwing both hands in the air.

“Well, then go clean your record before criticizing mine! At least I realized the mess I was in  before  engaging some maniac!”

“You are the maniac here, being all clingy and desperately trying to be something you're not.”

“You bribed a cop just to see how he’s doing!!” SpongeBob stomped on the floor, just as angry.

Squidward was staring at the floor with his head in his hands wondering why the hell the killer hadn't hit the knife in the middle of his chest at the market — at least that way he wouldn't be eavesdropping on that heated argument.

“Can you two  stop ? I'm not in a suitable moment to  reason  what's happening here right now.”

Because, seriously… what the hell… 

SpongeBob pressed his lips shut, and Squilliam sat back down on the sofa, crossing his arms and legs.

“Whatever… I didn't come here to  disturb . As I said, I’m here to  help .” The other octopus sighed, realizing the mess he had started. That really wasn't the purpose of his visit.

With those words, Squidward turned his attention back to him.

He would completely ignore, for now, the barrage of information that made his head ache and his face burn. Just knowing he was being  disputed ...

GeezusChrist, what a bizarre autumn.

Squilliam continued, getting into the matter at hand.

“I came with an offer. I have a small penthouse in Atlanta. You can stay there until the police find out who's the culprit.” He shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal. “I mean, it's safer for you to stay there than here.”

Squidward didn't even think long before answering him.

“Thanks but no thanks.”

Squilliam snorted, surprised and indignant. As if the answer had come too quickly. It made him mad.

“Squidward, work your  neurons  a sec.” His voice rose in irritation, and disbelief. “They hired someone to kill you. If they know where you work, they already know where you  live  too. You need to leave the city for a while.”

“He has a point,” SpongeBob said, against his will, approaching the support of the sofa next to Squidward. “You need to be safe. They might come to attack you again just like earlier today.”

“ What ?” Squilliam frowned, suddenly worried.

“I’m fine.” 

“He was almost stabbed in the market,” SpongeBob explained. “A hooded man stalked us, and it seems he's getting help.”

Squilliam leaped to his feet, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He tried to say something, but his voice broke, and then something enlightening came over his face.

“W-wait… did you say earlier today? Like, a few hours ago?”

SpongeBob and Squidward nodded. Then Squilliam frowned in indignation and anger.

“... I need to make a call.” He turned, leaving the house and already pulling out his cell phone.

SpongeBob turned to Squidward with a worried, suspicious look on his face. The equally wary blue octopus took a deep breath and sighed, standing from the sofa, shaking his head.

“I could swear Squilliam was involved, but you were right. It's not him.” He grumbled, going to the kitchen. “Although he seems to know something.”

The sponge man followed him, climbing on the kitchen bench and sitting there.

“Perhaps accepting the invitation is the best option. A penthouse in the big city is actually safer than staying here.”

“I don't want to owe him anything. I know how that guy is. He'll rub it in my face when I least expect it.” Squidward grumbled, opening it and pouring himself a glass of water.

“In this situation? I don't think so.” SpongeBob replied, legs swinging in the air. “At worst… well… he'll be the one keeping you company.”

Squidward raised the glass to his lips and grinned at SpongeBob.

“One more reason for me to decline.”

Instinctively, SpongeBob smiled. But then, just as quickly, he breaks eye contact and then clasps hands together. His nervous fingers began to play with each other, while his cheeks puffed with air in a pout.

“But Squilliam is right… getting out of town might be the best idea. At least so you can practice in peace until the audition. I bet Plankton will have a plan figured out by then.”

Squidward tapped his fingers on the kitchen counter and thought about it.

At that moment Squilliam returned, reentering the house through the front door and gnashing his teeth.

“Shit... I think I know who might be involved with this.”

Squidward spits out the water in his mouth, choking. SpongeBob's eyes widened, taken aback.

“For real?  Who ?!”

“I have no proof yet, just called Muray to confirm something first…”

Squidward leaned against the counter, wiping his mouth.

“You should go before you get involved.”

“If they're who I'm thinking, we all are already involved…” 

The atmosphere in the kitchen became dense. SpongeBob and Squilliam shared a knowing look. Replying with intense stares frowns and nodding. Squidward eyed both, completely lost in that silent conversation.

In the end, Squilliam stares at both of them and then turns towards the door.

“I'll let you know as soon as I'm sure. Wait for my call.” 

Squidward follows him to the front door. SpongeBob jumped down from the counter going right after.

With one hand on the doorknob, he turns.

Squidward, standing before him, was waiting for the most important thing he could say. Squilliam, however, just looked away and sighed.

“It's not because I'm here that I'm not over you, okay? I don't  care  that you got married.”

“... yeah,  sure .” For perhaps the first time in years, Squidward felt a slight malice burn in his chest. Squilliam might have been honest and helpful, but he was still a big thorn in his side.

The other blue octopus snorted, cheeks flushing.

“The offer stands. The penthouse is great.”

“I bet it is.” Maybe it really was the best choice, but Squidward—after all these days—was inclined to accept another kind of offer. “But I’ll pass.”

“ God , work some brain cells, idiot!”

Squidward raised a hand in front of his face, shaking his head.

“You're right. It’s better to leave the city. And I reluctantly  appreciate  your help, Squilliam, but I’m not going to your penthouse because I’ve already got an invitation.”

Squilliam paused for a second and then rolled his eyes, pouting.

“Fine, whatever.” He took his sunglasses out of his pocket and placed them on his face, crossing his arms, grumbling. “I hope you slip in horse shit and the bees sting you.”

And so he left, walking back to the street, where a black limousine was already waiting for him.

Squidward watched him get into the vehicle and then go on his way. Only then did he close the door to his house and turn around.

SpongeBob was shy, struggling with an expression between curiosity and happiness. He was clearly holding back the giant smile stuck on his cheeks. His hands were firm, tight. Waiting to explode with joy.

Squidward took a look at him and rolled his own eyes.

“Go pack your things.”

Like a firework, SpongeBob leaps into the air and glitter suddenly rains down around him.