3/8/20: Guys, it's half a novel long now! This is the longest fanfic and longest story I've ever written, and there's still more to come. Thank you so much for reading.

Also, there will be some Spandy (SpongeBob x Sandy) featured in this chapter, so I hope I portrayed Sandy as accurately as possible.

Also also, since SpongeBob's been crying a whole lot lately, he will get jerky at some point in this chapter. He's still a badass, guys.

"Yer gonna find the job to be a cinch, Jacques," said Mr. Krabs, walking down the street to the Krusty Krab, his arm around the fish. "I'm pleased ye found us. We've needed a third employee for a long time, but no one ever applied fer the job."

Jacques was a pale fish, dressed in a tight black shirt that was tucked into a pair of skinny ripped jeans. His hair was shaved on one side of his head, and the rest of it had been brushed into a messy combover. His eyes were red and tired, and his face was fixed in a seemingly permanent scowl.

"Huh. Can't imagine why," he replied in monotone.

"Yeah. A janitor would do so much good fer this place. Me poor fry cook has to balance two jobs throughout the day. It's driving him mad, and I desperately needed someone to fill in fer his janitor role."

"So, uh, how much will this job pay, again?"

Krabs' eyes wandered, and he whistled, removing his arm from around Jacques and placing his claws in his pockets (they were custom-tailored to accommodate the width of his big, meaty claws). "Well, son, uh… it's complercated. Let me just introduce ye to the building first. That's what's most important."

Jacques shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

The Krusty Krab came into view, and the two could hear faint sounds of whimpering coming from the building.

"Is that, uh, is that normal, Mr. K?"

"Is what normal, lad?"

"That. The- the crying. Don't you hear the crying? Am I goin' crazy or sum'n?" He scanned his face. The older man seemed confused.

"Sorry, lad, I don't hear it," he chuckled. "Whatever it is, it probably is normal. The place creaks and squeaks and leaks and everything else all the time. Hence why we need a janitor such as yerself." He patted Jacques on the back.

They approached the front door, both stopping in their tracks when they caught sight of a yellow box shaking violently on the other side of the glass. It emitted groans of what sounded like pain.

"What the hell is that?" exclaimed Jacques, who nervously hid behind Mr. Krabs. He pointed at the thing with a look of terror on his face. "Bro, I can't be working here if you've got hobos and shit livin' up in here. Who is that?!"

Mr. Krabs got closer to the entrance and squealed like a woman. "I… I think that's me frycook! " He rushed over to the glass doors and pulled. They were locked. Clenching his fists, he let out a frustrated cry. "Hold on, SpongeBob, I'm coming for ye!"

Jacques got closer to the scene. He watched as Mr. Krabs, sweat pouring down his crimson red exoskeleton, pulled at the handles with a strength he'd never seen before. The crab's thin arms became grotesquely buff and veiny, and with all his might, he ripped the doors from their frame.

Krabs knelt down by the sponge amidst the shattered glass and scooped him into his arms, which had returned to their naturally skinny state. He gently caressed SpongeBob's form, stroking the boy's cheek. The skin was hot to the touch, and the body convulsed beneath his fatherly hold. "SpongeBob," he said, tone hushed. "What's wrong, me boy?"

The pale yellow creature turned to face Mr. Krabs. The whites of his eyes were a light shade of pink and possessed snakey, jarring red veins. His blue irises were shrunken and his whole face was crinkled in anguish. No doubt he had been balling his eyes out for quite some time. A shaky breath escaped him, and he curled into a fetal position. "Mr. Krabs, please," he squeaked. "Please, please, please."

"Oh, my. This is worse than I thought." Mr. Krabs got up and quickly scuttled over to a case in his office. He produced a hammer (from thin-air, I guess) and smashed the glass. Inside was an emergency Krabby Patty that had been preserved for months now.

"Mr. Krabs, what's that?" SpongeBob asked as his boss knelt back down beside him. His nose twitched. It's a… Krabby Patty. But why?

"Breathe in, boy. It's the only thing I know your body will respond to," he said more hopefully than he did confidently.

SpongeBob weakly inhaled, but turned his head away when he felt vomit rise in his throat. He couldn't do this. He couldn't breathe in the pleasant scent of a Krabby Patty knowing he'd never be able to prepare one again. He felt his heart leap, and it leaped again, and again, and again, and got faster, faster, faster, until—

"YOU CAN'T FIRE ME, MR. KRABS, PLEASE!" he sobbed. "Oh, barnacles, please."

Mr. Krabs shushed him, placing a jagged finger (a crab claw finger) to his lips. "SpongeBob, me boy, I can't have ye havin' a heart attack on me premises. Bad fer business," he chuckled gently, though the offended look on SpongeBob's face wiped the smile off his own. "Sorry. 'Twas only a joke, son."

"You know what's not a joke?" SpongeBob hoarsely replied, abruptly sitting up. He got very close to Mr. Krabs' face, grabbing at the man's collar, and bringing him down to eye level. The sponge was leaking mucus and tears and vomit, but he could care less. "It's not a joke how much you've hurt me today," he said, and collapsed back onto his back, breathing heavily.

Jacques peaked his head around the corner of the mangled door frame, taking in the scene before him. The yellow fellow looked very familiar. Where did he know that guy from?...

"Mr. K!" Jacques said. "That's the frycook?"

"Yes, lad," Krabs replied, giving him a look like 'of course it is'.

"Y-you want me to help? I mean—"

"Right now might not be the best time. Just go to me office. I'll be there."

As he was leaving the scene, Jacques turned to look at the sponge. There was something about that weak, puny creature. There was something about how stupid he looked crying like he was. Shaking the feelings, he turned away and went into the office, shutting the door.

"SpongeBob…" Krabs resumed petting the boy's back. "Ye have to tell me what's wrong, boy-o. What's all this I'm hearin' about being fired?"

SpongeBob rubbed his 'lids with his palms, blinking and shielding his sensitive eyes from the sun. Everything was blurry. He really had been sobbing. Sobbing. Like full-blown, body-racking, tears-that-look-like-water-hoses type crying. And why shouldn't he? His livelihood was at stake. He had the right to scream and cry, he had the right to show emotion like a young child would— However! He was not going to be treated like a child.

He crossed his arms. "Mr. Krabs, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You're playing stupid with me as if I have no idea what's going on. Well, if I'm so stupid, you think I wouldn't recognize the HELP WANTED sign in the GOSH DARN window?!"

"Calm down, boy, calm down. I don't think ye understand."

"Oh, I understand. I understand that you're a great, big jerk! You're so greedy, Mr. Krabs, it's like you can't even see when your own hardworking, number one employee, ME, is trying to make this place sparkle and is giving his all. No, all you see is money! That's all you can see! It's like your eyestalks are big sticks of- of money! Just burger-flippin' money!"

"Boy, yer talking like a mad man. I told ye not to go loopy on me."

"I will say what I wanna say!" he hollered, his throat sounding broken on the inside, as well as his soul. "I don't wanna leave this restaurant. This is my home . I need to live here. I'm sorry about the tape! I'm so sorry, to Squidward, to you. You shouldn't have had to hear that, Mr. Krabs. I couldn't help myself. I'm in love with him! I wanted him with me, in me, and most of all I wanted him to like me. But apparently in this world, getting off in your own home gets you FIRED! I'm sorry I couldn't control my body, and my fingers, and my moans and I'm sorry you had to hear them and I'm sorry Squidward hates me and I'm sorry you feel like you should get rid of me forever. I'm sorry because I know you must truly HATE ME if you think that firing the BEST FRY COOK IN THE DEEP, BLUE OCEAN is the right thing to do!"

And SpongeBob screamed and screamed, at the top of his lungs. So loud that it shook the building (in that cartoonish way that screams do). He cried a puddle of tears that was big enough to wade in, and he tore chunks of yellow flesh from his head in despair. (Fortunately, his body regenerates.)

Mr. Krabs just sat there watching, unable to think of much to do or say. He shook his head. This was a lot to take in, and a hell of a lot of SpongeBob to handle. Krabs was an older man, after all, it took time to process things. Oh, it pains me to see him like this, he thought.

When after a few more minutes the tears didn't stop coming, Mr. Krabs got impatient and slammed his claws down upon SpongeBob's shoulders, pinching them tightly, and ignoring the protests against it. "Boy, if ye don't hush up ."

SpongeBob winced, going tense. Mr. Krabs sounded serious, like an angry father that was scolding his son and telling him to start acting like a big boy. He noticed his little crinkle-cut nose flaring and he took it as a sign to settle down, lest his boss unleash his bad side. "Sorry, Mr. K. I… I think something's wrong with me."

"There's always something wrong with ye; that's not new. What's concerning me is the way ye have been acting lately. Ye've been so stressed and tired—"

"But—"

"No. Don't deny it. Look," he sighed, "Squidward approached me about this whole thing within the past twenty-four hours and it concerned me, it really did. The two even went so far as to find someone to fill in fer yer night shift position. His name's Jacques, I'll have ye meet him later. But we did this because we're noticing a change in yer behavior and worth ethic, son. Yer a hard workin' man, I value ye more than ye probably think I do, so know that. Know that I'm not mad at yer showin' off. We just think it's doing more harm than good.

"I'm not firing ye. That 'help wanted' sign in the window is to hopefully encourage more folks —who can handle minimum wage, of course— to seek work here. A mere two employees was never a good idea and I'm seeing it now more than I ever have before. Fer some reason, ye just seem like ye can't handle the workload anymore. That's uh, that's my fault… Ye know me, SpongeBob, I'm a money addict. It's an issue for me in the same way being a workaholic is an issue fer ye.

"And, er, about that, uh, that tape, ye can rest at night knowing that I didn't listen to it. Squidward got his panties in a bunch trying to get me to listen, but I respect yer privacy, lad. I refused. Yer a man , SpongeBob, ye've got needs! Ye've the right to handle yer little desires, so long as ye don't do it in the Krusty Krab. I see nothing wrong with it. Hell, compared to some of the stuff I did back in me Navy days, yer a saint!"

"So you DO think I'm a saint?!"

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry. You just solidified an argument that Squidward had with me a few days ago, is all."

"Oh, uh, alright. But as I was saying, yer body is gonna cause you issues in life. Yer gonna have urges ye'll have to fight, but in this case, ye didn't do anything wrong. I'll say one thing though, SpongeBob. Ye have to respect Squidward's personal space. I know yer apparently crazy fer him and everything, and as much as I don't give a hoot about Squidward's complaints nowadays —Neptune, he's always bitchin' about something!— ye gotta respect the man's wishes. If he doesn't want ye touching him and courtin' with him, then don't. Nothing against ye and yer, uh… fruity lil' self, but we do expect employees to respect the employee code of conduct. I thought ye yerself would know that better than anyone, boy-o."

SpongeBob looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Krabs. It's just- you know when you fall in love with someone and you try to change for them and stuff? I think that's what's happening with me. I think maybe I'm trying too hard." He sighed, getting choked up again. "But nothing I ever do changes Squidward's mind! I'm nice to him, and he gets annoyed by it. I get on his level, and he can't handle it. W-what more can I do?"

"Sometimes ye can't do anything," Krabs replied. His sea green eyes looked distant, as if he was somewhere else. Somewhere far away. "Sometimes, no matter what ye do, nothing's gonna change. I've accepted that in me life. I've accepted that Plankton's always gonna be after me formul er . Now all I can do is constantly be at my ready. Yer always screaming how ready ye are, lad. Keep yerself motivated with that little catchphrase of yours. Be at your ready, no matter what comes yer way. Can you do that for me? Can ye do it for ol' Mr. Krabs?"

SpongeBob rubbed his arms, suddenly feeling a chill. The water was warm but he was feeling a sense of coldness. Perhaps it came from somewhere within. "I don't know…" he said, voice rough and at least an octave lower. Little tear droplets fell from the tip of his nose, creating tiny splashes on his arms that were quickly absorbed and disappeared back into his body. "I want to be with him. So bad. So very bad ."

Krabs frowned. "Well, what is it about him that you like? Lord knows I don't see it."

"I-" He paused. Explaining might be harder than he thought. He'd liked Squidward for as long as he could remember. Where do I start? He groaned. "It's a long story."

"So are me riveting pirate tales, but I still tell 'em, so just spill."

"Well, here I go…"

So SpongeBob explained. He told of how he first met Squidward, how their eyes met, how he looked at him way back when. Before SpongeBob started getting more comfortable around Squidward, the octopus had taken a liking to his bubbly personality and creativity. They had art club together on weekends back when the two were in their early stages of adulthood, and SpongeBob was the light that Squidward needed.

"What's that you're drawing, Sponge?"

"Oh, nothing," he replied, hiding the paper beneath his arm. He looked down at the smudged charcoal with a frown and sighed, lifting his arm that was now covered in the black dust. "Well, at least not anymore."

"May I see it?" Squidward asked. Gently he lifted SpongeBob's arms and revealed the drawing. It was a sketch of the two holding hands, smiling. Squidward couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's stupid, isn't it?"

"What? No!" He reached for the paper and held it up to the light to better see it. He scanned the image, taking note of how elegant the flowing locks of hair looked upon his head, and how ecstatic the sponge's expression was, and how tightly the hands were being held. Then he noticed the many hearts that scattered the page.

He and SpongeBob were hardly friends, just two people forced to come in contact with each other on Saturday afternoons at the local library during the summer. The tiny organ shapes were peculiar. "It's… It's nice. But, uh… Why all the hearts?"

SpongeBob slammed his face into the table, abashed. Another sigh fell from his lips. "I… I dunno," he replied, voice muffled.

"Are you embarrassed? Don't be." Jokingly, he swung his youthful blond hair over his shoulders, and posed with his tentacles behind his head. "I don't know how you do it, but you make me look so good. Is that how you really perceive me as, Sponge?"

SpongeBob looked up from the table, his cheeks on fire. "Yeah. Yeah, you look nice."

"I don't often say this, but you've got talent, SpongeBob. You're gonna make me wanna draw myself more often now. Damn, I'm fine!" He pulled a pen and a small mirror from his pocket and sat down beside the boy, choosing a piece of sketch paper from the stack before them, and immediately began to draw.

SpongeBob looked over his acquaintances' shoulder. "That, uh… looks really neat- it looks g-good," he said quietly after Squidward had drawn for a few minutes.

"You know, you can scoot in closer and watch me. I like an audience."

"S-sure." SpongeBob rested his chin in his palms and watched with fascination as Squidward replicated himself onto paper. The lines of his forehead were straight and the face lacked emotion — it was bland— but in SpongeBob's eyes, the sketch was perfect and full of life. "You're good at this, Squidward."

"Thanks, Sponge. If I'm being honest, I'm uh… a bit of a narcissist as well as an introvert. I don't usually talk to people such as yourself, but your art is phenomenal. Maybe one day I'll draw you. I draw myself too much, anyway. Hence why I mentioned my narcissism."

"Really? Y-you'd draw me?" SpongeBob said, holding back from squealing. He felt honored. He hardly knew this man, thought he was cute, and now this same cute man was offering to draw him. Squidward might actually look over his spongey features —his big-toothed smile, freckled cheeks, and effeminate lashes— and produce them as art. Oh, it made him so giddy! "Oh, thank you, thank you!"

"Oh, it's nothing really. Just blessing the world with my many artistic gifts."

(I used the word "Oh" three sentences in a row. Hehe. O, O, O, O'Reilly. O'Reilly Auto Parts. Ow! )

Mr. Krabs rubbed his chin. "So by what yer telling me, it sounds like Squidward didn't mind yer comp er ny back then?"

"Precisely, Mr. K. I had a crush on him and I think he knew it, but he didn't mind it. He invited me to sit with him during club and… oh my Neptune, he once even let me sit close enough to touch shoulders . And he ruffled my hair. I had hair back then, so did he. His was real hair, it was long and blonde, but you already knew that. Mine's different, though. I don't wear it out anymore." He took his hand and rubbed the top of his head, causing spongy tufts of hair (seen in "The Sponge Who Could Fly") to stick out from it at all angles.

Mr. Krabs chuckled. "Nice. So, uh, when did it all start going downhill?"

"Well, that's a long story, too. A huge factor was when I moved in next door and started working here. But by then he had already lost interest in hanging around me. Apparently I started acting 'unpredictable' and 'clingy' and 'annoying'."

"So, Squiiiiidward? Squidward, when are you gonna draw me again, huh?" SpongeBob asked, pressing up against the octopus' side.

Squidward looked over with a wavering smile on his face. "Eventually," he replied between teeth. "Just… just stop talking, please."

"B-but, but why?" He hung his head, his lip protruding like a pouty child's would.

"Because I need space, SpongeBob. Please! I'm sorry, but you're getting to be too much, and I really have no desire for you to be over here right now. Just respect that."

"Squiddy, no! W-wait. Hold on a second, let's not make rash decisions, here."

"Don't call me that."

"Ugh…" He got up and sat on the other side of the table.

"Can you please move?"

"I- I did. Are you blind or something, Squidward?"

Squidward scowled.

"Sorry, I… I won't make rude comments like that again. Where do you want me to move?"

"Just… anywhere that isn't here." A large paintbrush he was holding fell from his tentacle and rolled off of the table and onto the floor, speckles of red and blue making the floor its canvas. When he shifted in his seat, his painting was revealed. It was all black, with an orb of white in the middle, and inside the white orb sat the silhouette of an octopus, who's form was bent over, head tucked between its knees, and tears dripping from its eyes. "I can't deal with this right now."

"You want me to leave, Squidward? You want me to move? FINE!" SpongeBob scooped up his art supplies, adjusted his jellyfish-themed fanny pack (headcanon: SpongeBob had a pink fanny pack when he was a young adult), and ran out the door in tears. Papers flew all around him as he rushed by the tables.

One of the papers was the charcoal sketch, and Squidward watched as it landed on the table directly in front of him. He traced the smudge with his tentacle finger before setting it aside, perhaps feeling a bit sentimental. Of course, SpongeBob would never know this; the poor boy was already out the door.

"So, in my anger, I took the question literally," SpongeBob said, looking a bit embarrassed to admit it. "He asked me to move, so I did. Right next to him. In that pineapple house of mine… My initial idea was to move somewhere far away where I could forget about Squidward, but when I learned that he lived right next to that open lot on Conch Street, I really wanted to be there next to him. I love pleasant scents, and when that sweet pineapple fell from the heavens, it was all the more reason for me to move in next door. I knew I had to claim the lot. Everything was just perfect."

"But he told ye to leave him be," said Mr. Krabs. "Living next to him is probably the worst thing ye could've done in that situation. I still don't get it, lad. Were ye tryin' to change his mind or something?"

"Yeah, I guess. I was thinking that maybe if I moved in next door, he would get over his hatred and grow to like me. But as you can clearly see, it's been fifteen years and that still hasn't happened."

"Probably never will."

A pang of sorrow struck SpongeBob's heart, and he laid back onto the floor, feeling sick to his stomach. "Oh, Mr. Krabs, why does it have to be like this?" he whined. "All I wanted was to get to know him, and I wanted him to get to know me, and maybe like me, and have a crush on me, and take me home one night to take my clothes off, and to have him climb in a bed with just us two and some candles and roses and the smell of the pineapple and his 'frilly soap' as you called it. I wanted him to tell me he loved me and that I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and to hold me close and play his clarinet until I fell asleep and awoke to our bodies pressed together tightly in the morning."

"Yeesh. SpongeBob, that's, uh—"

"I wanted him to love me for who I was. But he said he hated me. He said he never wanted to see me again. He still wishes he could be rid of me, every day. Every single day. When he first realized that I had moved in next door, he was so overcome with rage. It scared me."

Squidward stepped out of his Eastern Island Head, hair frizzy and body clothed in a robe, with a mug in his hand that read "N O P E". He sipped it nonchalantly. "Another day, another migraine." He sat down in front of his house looking bored, his eyes fixed on the coffee he was sipping. He just sat there, drinking, just breathing in the morning air. That was, until he heard irkingly (new word, heh) familiar laughter from across the street.

He whipped his neck around to see the source of the noise. It was that little, yellow nuisance: SpongeBob SquarePants. He wondered what in the ocean that guy was doing there, stepping out of some furnished fruit that had spawned out of nowhere. 'Probably fell from the sky,' he thought. (He wasn't wrong. Watch "Truth or Square". I know I made some changes to how the pineapple thing all happened, but, y'know… headcanons.) He set down his mug and placed his hands on his hips, and called out, "Hey, private property, you know?!"

SpongeBob gasped and smiled. He was bent down, attending to some colorful flowers that were left over from the garden that Squidward had planted there. The pineapple had come down and crushed the others, and SpongeBob thought it was only right to care for the surviving blossoms. They stuck up, reaching for the sun, and when SpongeBob noticed his new neighbor next door, his hand stuck up, too, fixed in a wave for at least ten seconds.

"Hey, Squidward! I just moved in last night. The realtor said that this lot was technically open, so, uh… sorry about the garden." He shrugged and smiled, walking over to greet the octopus with a handshake.

Squidward looked down at the open hand and refused to shake it. It wasn't because the sponge's normally squeaky clean hands were dusty with fresh soil, or because the whole fingers-wrapping-around-suction-cups thing felt uncomfortable. Rather, he was simply not amused in the slightest by this little gesture of his. "SpongeBob, why are you here?" he finally said, after the sponge had shifted back and forth awkwardly for too long.

SpongeBob let his hand fall back at his side and continued to smile brightly. Maybe the smile was a fake one, maybe not. Squidward wasn't sure. "Well, I need somewhere to live, silly!"

Squidward grunted.

"This is the perfect place for me to be. It's cheap, it's cosy, and it's close to the Krusty Krab. I plan to start working there by the end of summer."

Squidward's eyes got huge, and if he hadn't set his mug down, he'd be choking on coffee. "At the Krusty Krab?!" he said with a bit of a voice crack. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! That's where I work!"

"Really?!" SpongeBob cried, bouncing up and down. "I had no idea. I just knew they were hiring. O.M.G, we're gonna be COWORKERS! This is so cool. So Squidward, what's your job there? I'm gonna try out for frycook."

"'Try out'?" he repeated, scoffing. "You act like you're still in high school. Nobody calls it trying out. You hand in your resumé and sign some papers and go through some sort of an interview or something. If you're lucky, Mr. Krabs -my boss- will be impressed, and you won't have to do nearly as much, but good luck with that, because my getting in wasn't so easy. He acts like a stoner when it comes to money. I had to prove I could operate a register."

"Oh, so you're a cashier." He smiled.

"Don't say it like that," Squidward hissed. "It's nothing to be proud of."

"But it is, Squidward! You get to make dollars into quarters, and take orders, and greet the customers with a friendly face."

"Do you genuinely think that THIS is a friendly face." (Cue a grotesque close-up!)

"Well, right now not so much, but when the customers come in, don't you—?"

"This is my friendly face."

SpongeBob's face dropped in a similar fashion, and he sighed. "Well, no worries then." Squidward continued to glare at him, mouth creased in an upside down "u". No further talk was being made, and the sponge felt antsy, adjusting his tie and searching for some words. "So, uh, is it hot out here or is it just me?"

"It's just you."

He bit his lip. "Look, Squidward," he said reaching out to touch him, only to have his hand batted away by a tentacle. "Squidward, I know you're upset and I know what you said about moving, but—"

"But nothing! When I said move, I didn't mean it literally! Are you insane? I hardly even know you. What the hell would make you think that this is a good idea? Just because someone doesn't mind your company doesn't mean they enjoy it. And if you think that by living here we're suddenly gonna become best pals, then you're wrong. You are very wrong."

"I'm not insane. I just… I dunno. I've never really felt for anyone like I have for you before. I think you're really good at art, and I really like to watch you create it! What did I do wrong? Why do you hate me all of a sudden?"

"I never said I hated you, SpongeBob, I just asked you to leave me alone. But then you go off and do something drastic thing like move next door. That's completely opposite of what I so graciously asked you to do. All I told you to do was move."

Squidward shook his head and turned to leave, heading back to sit on his front porch. There were tears in his eyes, but SpongeBob didn't know it.

"Squidward, please just give me a chance," he said, chasing after him.

Squidward sipped his coffee, little teardrops tainting the drink with a salty flavor. He could feel the presence of the sponge in front of him, his nuisance shadow hovering over his body. He looked up with red eyes, and he was met with SpongeBob's own eyes, big and blue and glazed over with a wetness that was not of the sea. "It seems that you still can't respect my wishes."

SpongeBob just stood there like a toddler, crying and not speaking. His freckled cheeks, the freckled cheeks that Squidward had painted earlier that summer, were hot with embarrassment and pain. Pain of the heart. His thick lashes glistened in the sunlight, batting furiously as they fought against the onslaught of sentimental liquid. His lip was trembling furiously, as if he had so many things to say, but none seemed worth saying.

It was his first time being rejected.

"So," Squidward said, gripping his mug tightly, "you're crying, too."

"YES! YES, I'M CRYING!"

"Don't f-cking yell at me, goddamnit!"

It was the first time Squidward had cursed at him since they'd met.

SpongeBob shakily stepped back, whimpering. In a quiet voice, he said, "Please don't use s-swear words at me."

"No! You just screamed at me, so you should know exactly what it feels like. Obviously you spend your life in lalaland thinking you can do and say whatever you feel like doing and things will turn out alright. But barnacles are you wrong." He took a shaky breath and continued. "Man, I'm struggling right now and I really can't deal with this, I hope you know that. We were chill until you started acting all clingy. I came to the art club to clear my mind, to relax, to escape from the world. Then you came along and now I don't get peace there, either. What is your problem, man? Why don't you get it?"

The sponge kept his mouth shut.

Abruptly, Squidward got up and in one swift motion slammed his mug down upon the porch. The white ceramic shattered and the pieces flew out in all directions, floating through the water. "BARNACLES!" he hollered up at the sky. He shoved the sponge off of his walkway and pointed at the pineapple. "Just go back home! Go get in that RIDICULOUS house of yours and stay off of my f-cking property. We're done here. If you're fortunate enough to even get to work at the Krusty Krab, don't talk to me. EVER."

And with that, Squidward turned away, unkept blonde hair swishing around his shoulders. He crouched down on the porch, back turned to the world, looking strangely like the silhouette in the white orb that he had painted not long ago.

"So that's that. That's how I blew my chance at ever getting closer to Squidward," SpongeBob said with a sigh. "That's also how I screwed up my reputation in the art club. The folks in there saw me storm out of the building and they all started joking about me being 'childish' and 'unsophisticated' when I finally returned. I also got blamed for the reason Squidward quit the club, and rightly so, I guess."

Mr. Krabs squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Sounds like you and Squidward have a long history."

"We do."

"So you've been struggling with unrequited love for fifteen years , hm?"

"Basically, yeah. I mean, there were times where I took a break, if you wanna call it that. I had a bit of a crush on Sandy back when she first came to live down here. We dated for almost half a year and kept it on the downlow, so nobody really knows about it except for Patrick and now you. It was just a fling; it didn't go very far. The night she first wanted to get, uh, intimate is when I realized, I uh…"

"You were homersexual?"

"Mr. Krabs!"

"What, boy? It seemed like that's what was comin'."

"It's- It's fine. Frankly, I prefer to call myself bisexual. Or, is it bi romantic ? I'm not sure. All I know is that I was able to love Sandy like a girlfriend, but I wasn't ready to please her. But when I thought of naughty things in bed, all I wanted was Squidward's long, slippery, squirmy tentacles inside my—"

"Boy-o!"

"Sorry, Mr. K."

He huffed, shaking his head. "Just continue."

"Okay. So the relationship with Sandy offered me temporary escape from my feelings for Squidward. Early in the dating, I genuinely felt like I was going to be able to forget about him, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. I just couldn't feel for Sandy like I wanted to. I wanted to make her happy. But I just couldn't."

"Golly, SpongeBob, y'all are looking mighty hot."

"Oh, haha," he forced a laugh. "The temperature in this dome must be like ninety degrees or something." He adjusted his tie, looking red in the face.

Sandy chuckled. "Not even close. I invented a cooling system for the weather in here not long ago. Y'all are just embarrassed! I was talkin' 'bout how good you look in your suit, silly."

"Gee, you really think I look good?"

"Darn tootin'. I ain't seen a creature as fine as yourself since Texas. Lots of snazzy squirrels up there, but ain't none compare to you, SpongeBob."

SpongeBob smiled, his teeth sticking out all goofy-like. He was clad in a fancy black dress suit with a pure white shirt beneath. The outfit was complete with a pair of shiny black shoes (his normal ones) and a bright red tie (also one of his normal ones). (What can you say? He had to go cheap with the accessories; Mr. Krabs wasn't paying him jack.)

One thing he wasn't wearing was his water helmet. Sandy had worked countless hours when they first started dating to ensure that he could interact with her without restriction. He downed a small pill, and for the next few hours, he'd be able to tolerate air.

Sandy was dressed in a thin, lavender dress that was shoulderless and cut off right below the upper thighs. It showed off the bit of curves that she had, and really accented her figure. There was even a little hole in the back for her tail to stick out.

Sandy turned around, tail swishing, and led SpongeBob to the picnic table that had been decked out in tiny candles. (Finally, some logical fire underwater, am I right?) A small banquet was set out for the two, a sort of dinner date. There were "exotic" Texan foods like barbecue and chicken fried steak. Set out for SpongeBob, there were tasty seafoods. Plates of fresh, green algae and seagrass were among the choices.

SpongeBob sat down across the table from his girlfriend and looked down at the food. He poked a peculiar-looking food that was piled up in a dish. It was curly and purplish and had… "SUCTION CUPS!" he squealed. "Ew, ew, Sandy what is that?!"

"It's calamari, silly. Ain't ya ever had calamari before?"

"C-calamari? Y-you mean, as in… octopus?" he squeaked.

"Heck, yes! That stuff's delicious, and being a sea critter, I thought you'd like i- Oh," she paused. "You're a… sea critter, and therefore you… I screwed up."

"No, Sandy, no. It's okay. You didn't s-screw up anything," he said, frantically waving his hands around. He hated seeing her upset. "It's just… It reminds me of…"

"I know, SpongeBob. And I'm sorry. You know what, let's toast. You can toast to forgetting about that ol' grumpy, pain in the neck and move on. Come on, let's eat one." She smiled.

SpongeBob smiled back. A weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Sure."

They both reached into the bowl and picked out a juicy tentacle.

"To moving on!" declared Sandy.

SpongeBob raised his tentacle to clink her's. "To moving on…"

Sandy opened her mouth wide and dropped the tentacle inside, chewing fiercely with those large, squirrel teeth of her's. She may have been dressed like a lady, but she certainly didn't possess the manners of one. SpongeBob could care less.

SpongeBob was getting a little, er, silly with the calamari to put it cleanly. As much as he hated to think it, and though he had no intention of admitting this to Sandy, he didn't think he was going to be able to move on from thoughts of Squidward. He'd known Squidward for well over a year, and to just drop his feelings for him like *snap!* that didn't seem immediately possible. While Sandy was busy stuffing her cheeks with the tentacles, he decided he wanted to play with them. He decided he wanted to know what it felt like to fool around with a tentacle in his mouth.

He placed the tentacle on his tongue and dragged it across the top of it, coating it with saliva. It tasted pretty good. Greasy. He liked grease. He twirled his tongue around the suction cups, placing his lips around the treat and started sucking it. It was thick and tender. Thick and tender like Squidward's-

"SpongeBob!"

"Yipe!" The tentacle fell from his lips and he immediately went red-faced.

Sandy placed her hands on her hips, and her expression was stern. "What in tarnation were you just doing?" she cried. She leaned over to the table to glare into his dilated pupils.

"Sandy, I- I can explain," he said, his leg shaking beneath the table and his heart racing.

"Well then do it. 'Cause I ain't gettin' on with the night until you explain what the hell that little act you were doing was? Whatever it was, it didn't look right."

SpongeBob tugged at his collar. "I dunno."

"You don't know?"

"I was just eating a little sloppy, is all. What's the big deal? I didn't see you using any sort of manners, so why should I?"

"SpongeBob," she groaned. "That's not what you were doing."

"Sandy, I'm telling you, that's all it was!"

"So eating sloppy looks like sucking somebody off?!"

"I wasn't!"

"Well you sure looked like you were goin' to town on that piece of food."

"Well I wasn't." He crossed his arms, face still burning. "Let up, will you? I'm not a pervert."

"Fine, SpongeBob, be that way."

The night went on, and things calmed down significantly. After dinner, some flirting, and a romantic comedy high school host club anime, the two found themselves up in the tree, in Sandy's bedroom. They were seated on the edge of her bed, shoes kicked off and set in a corner, talking quietly. It was dark outside, and the room was illuminated by a couple of bright lamps.

"SpongeBob, I want to talk to you," Sandy said, leaning partially over the carpet with her hands under her chin. Her brows were creased and there was a little twinkle in her hazel eyes from one of the lamps.

The sponge's heart skipped a beat and he looked over at her. "Uh, s-sure, Sandy, you can tell me anything."

She inhaled. "SpongeBob, I love you. I really do. I love you more than a cold glass of lemon squeezings on a hot summer day. But I don't think y'all are feeling the same way about me. Maybe we're doing somethin' wrong, y'know?"

"I… Sandy, it's my fault," he replied, voice breaking. "For some reason I just can't be a man. I can't make you happy. ...I'm a terrible boyfriend!"

"Aw, shucks. Ya ain't terrible, you're just inexperienced. Maybe it's me. I've been with a few men in the past, so maybe I'm expecting too much of ya. Back in Texas, I dated many a squirrel, but I never really found 'the one'. When I first got to Bikini Bottom, I never dreamed of pursuin' a relationship with a sea critter, but then you came along, and well…"

"You fell in love with me," SpongeBob said in a whisper. A tear fell from the tip of his nose.

"Don't cry, now." She wrapped her arms around him. "Ain't a reason to cry, Sponge."

"Yes it is. I'm not stupid. I get it, you're implying you wanna break up. Fine. Just do it already. Go ahead, I can handle it. I'm a sponge. I can take it."

"What?!" she cried, squeezing SpongeBob harder, more passionately. "That's not what I meant at all. I… I was wondering if you wanted to take this relationship to the next level."

SpongeBob looked up into her eyes at that statement. He noticed the hurt look on her face and felt stupid for having taken her words the wrong way. He put his arms around her, returning the embrace. "I'm sorry. I'm so neptunedamn dumb all the time. I'm naive."

"Ain't that the truth!" she chuckled, sniffling.

"To the next level, huh? You mean like—"

"Sex? Yes."

"Barnacles, Sandy, I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

"Sure you are. C'mon, it'll be fun!"

"Really, Sandy, I'm not sure I'm ready. I'm young, I'm a sponge, I'm embarrassed, I'm weak, I've never done this before, I still haven't lost my vir—"

His eyes went wide. Sandy's lips were firmly pressed up against his face, and her tongue was begging to part his soft lips. He gave in awkwardly, allowing her to enter his mouth. Her tongue wriggled against his, but he barely put up a fight.

She pushed him onto the bed so that he was beneath her, and straddled him with her legs, cowgirl style. Beneath her dress, she wore a thin pair of panties, and she grinded herself against SpongeBob's crotch as she continued to kiss him deeply.

His eyes were shut tightly and he just let things happen. He had no idea how to do what she was doing, and was unaware of what exactly she wanted him to do. SpongeBob had seen a couple graphic videos in the past that he was quite fond of, but when it came to real-life experience, he was a complete and utter virgin.

Sandy broke the kiss, letting out a small chuckle when she felt SpongeBob thrust clumsily. "C'mon, Sponge, you can do better than that!"

"I told you," he said, blushing, "I've never done this before."

"All ya gotta do is rub on me and let things go from there. Just do what your body tells you to do."

So he tried. He moved his lower half in rapid motions, jerking upwards and swiveling his hips, causing the fabric of their clothes to create friction that Sandy seemed to like. He observed her face contorting from gentle smiles into mischievous smirks. She put her arms around his head, and she kissed him again. They're teeth struck and they yelped.

"Doggonit, SpongeBob!" she said with a hiss.

"Hey, I'm not the one who's doing all the kissing."

"Maybe if you kissed back, it would be easier."

SpongeBob let out a little sigh and pulled Sandy's face into his, kissing her. It was a pretty lame kiss, no tongue, but he was aiming not to bump teeth again.

Sandy paused the action and began to strip SpongeBob of his fancy clothes. She removed the tuxedo, pulling off the jacket and then tugging the white undershirt over his square head. Next, she pinched the sides of his pants and yanked them down, lifting her weight off his body so she could slide them all the way off.

She continued to dryhump him, feeling for a bulge beneath his briefs. There wasn't one. "C'mon, you gotta get into it." It was fun finally getting to have her way with her boyfriend, but something wasn't quite working for her. "...Um, SpongeBob. Why don't I feel your- y'know. Your dick?"

"Sandy!" he gasped, flustered. "I didn't know that word was a part of your vocabulary!"

"What can I say? I'm a different girl in bed. But really, are you not turned on or somethin'?"

"Oh, I… No, I'm aroused, alright, it's just… Sponge anatomy is- well, it's different. You came down here to study sea creatures. You should know that better than anyone else."

Sandy sounded a bit offended, and they stopped thrusting for a moment. "What do you mean I should know that better than anyone else? I do know that, I- Of course I know that, uh…" She facepalmed, defeated. "Fine, you got me. You are like the only critter I haven't really done much study on. 'Cause y'all are my friend and boyfriend, and I don't see ya as a test subject like I do some of the other folks down here. So go ahead. Lecture me, Sponge."

"Well first of all, I don't have a penis," he whispered the word, as if what he was currently doing with Sandy was somehow less taboo. "I could grow one if I wanted to, but it wouldn't pleasure me so much as it would pleasure you. It'd be like a third arm or leg. I feel pleasure through my pores. If you want me to get, uh, turned on, then you have to play with my pores. That's uh…. That's how I get off. Also, sponges possess both male and female components. I'm an intersex creature. If I wanted, I could identify as either male or female, but my parents decided they wanted a boy, so they assigned me the male gender on my birth certificate."

"So you're not a true male?"

"Not technically."

"Wow. That explains the long eyelashes and the sodomy, hm."

"Well, the eyelashes yes, but my sexuality, I'm not so sure. I feel like even if I was one hundred percent man, I'd still have gay feelings. So, I mean, I guess you're right. I consider myself a bisexual, so it goes along with what you're saying, yeah."

"I don't know why, but just thinking about you getting dominated by some tough man is really turning me on. Oh, you're so submissive." She smirked, walking her fingers up his exposed chest.

"Imagine a threesome with Squidward. Heh."

She froze. "Ew, hell no! There you go with the Squidward talk again. I don't want to hear his damn name again, SpongeBob. Please."

"I was just joking."

"Yeah, but the fact that you mentioned him at all means you were thinking about him. That's more disgusting than worms in an apple, SpongeBob!"

"Sorry."

"I bet you were fantasizing about him while I was humpin' ya!"

"But—"

"That is so gross, SpongeBob!

"I said I was sorry, Nep-damn."

Sandy frowned, crawling off of his body and sitting beside his legs. "You don't want this, do you?" she said, voice cracking. She'd been the dominant one all night but suddenly she was the one who sounded weak.

SpongeBob sat up. "No. I don't. And I'm sorry."

SpongeBob didn't think he'd ever seen Sandy look more hurt in that moment. She didn't even look angry. She looked heartbroken. He watched her eyes well up with tears and spent the next half an hour comforting her, telling her that it wasn't her, it was him, and that he was sorry, and that he was young and stupid, and that she deserved better. He hugged her and kissed her cheek and explained to her with great difficulty and awkwardness that they should probably just go back to being friends. She agreed, and afterwards, he left and went to Goofy Goober's to get drunk off his ass and cry.

"The whole situation just tore me apart, Mr. Krabs. The Krusty Krab was my only escape. I somewhat got over breaking Sandy's heart but quickly started crushing on Squidward again. Honestly, I think obsessing over someone you can't be with isn't any healthier than being with someone you're not interested in."

"You know, you make an interesting point," said a gruff voice, peaking through the office door. "Heh, nice hair cut." (He was talking about the spongy hair that SpongeBob revealed to Mr. Krabs earlier.)

Mr. Krabs looked up and lightly gasped. "Great Davy Jones! I'm sorry, Jacques, I completely forgot ye were in there, son. Come on out, join us. I thinks we're mostly done talking. Right, SpongeBob?"

"S-sure, I guess." He turned to look at the fish who was approaching them. He hadn't gotten a very good look at him when he first walked in the door, but now that his eyes were dry and he could see clearly, he looked him up and down. He crossed his arms, trying to look tough as if he hadn't just balled his eyes out. Who IS this guy? he thought, a snarl on his face.

Jacques sat down in front of the two, his large boots making a thud when they hit the ground. "The name's Jacques," he said, refusing to make eye contact with the sponge. "Who the hell are you?"

Mr. Krabs seemed unfazed.

"I'm SpongeBob," he replied. He was already getting a vibe from this guy that he did not like. "I'm the fry cook here at this establishment. I've been here for over fifteen years. I know this place like the back of my hand."

"Ha. Well aren't you the hardworking type."

"Yes, yes I am. If you'll notice the hundreds of employee of the month awards that we have on the wall." He gestured towards the back wall that was littered with picture frames boasting SpongeBob's proud smile.

"Huh. Okay." He squinted. "Who's that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The- the blue guy. Top left corner. He's got a few."

"Oh, that's my coworker, Squidward. He only has those very few awards because I hadn't come along yet."

Mr. Krabs smiled. "And lucky for me, you did, not long after."

"So," SpongeBob continued, "why are you here?"

"What, Mr. Krabs didn't tell you? I'm here to take over your night shift duties as well as your job as janitor," he said matter-of-factly.

"No, he told me alright. I just wanted to know what specifically you're here for."

"Well I told you."

"Yeah, I get that." A cartoony, evil smile formed on the sponge's usually soft face. "Oh, and by the way, janitor is a shitty job so I hope you're up for it. Being a sponge, it was nothing I couldn't handle, but for you, well, you better hope you don't get those designer jeans of yours dirty. With the way things are here, you'll be lucky enough to be able to purchase clothes from Barg'N-Mart."

"Maybe that's how things are for you, man, but I'm getting paid extra. Ain't that right, Mr. K?" he chuckled, running his fin through his hair.

SpongeBob's mouth hung agape. "Mr. K?" he echoed. "B-but… only I call him that."

Mr. Krabs sheepishly smiled, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Well, Jacques, that would be the case, yes. SpongeBob, lad, I'm doing this out of desperation. We need a third employee, and I'm paying him extra to keep him here, at least for now. Ye've already demernstrated to me that ye'll work for free if it means staying here, SpongeBob, so I can't comprermise an opportunity like this one."

SpongeBob stood up, too, feeling his blood boil. "So that's how you wanna play it, huh, Mr. Krabs? You're gonna use MY LOVE FOR MY JOB against me?! You know I'm a workaholic, so why would you do this?! This isn't right!"

"This is in yer best interest, boy."

"Yeah, your best interest," Jacques repeated.

SpongeBob pushed passed the two and swung open the front doors. "Fine! If that's how it's gonna be, then I quit!"

I quit!

I quit!

I quit!

The words resounded in Krabs' head and the old man felt as though he was going to pass out. The last thing he saw before hitting the floor was SpongeBob's prized spatula, discarded in the corner of the restaurant.