I decided to make a sequel. I need the writing experience (I am hoping it can help me get something done on our co-project) and to be honest, I can not bear making poor Squid suffer what I already know to be an unadulterated hell of hells. Someone should be happy out of this, even if it is a fictional character. Plus, I am a person that lives to make others happy, and since I can not do that for anyone around here at the moment, Squid is going to have to do. Lordy, that is so depressing.

I had Bulma read this for me. I thought it might help get her mind off of other things. I am pleased to say that she perked up a bit, although I think I scarred her mind for life. Yay me!

Disclaimer: I do not own Spongebob or any of the characters. I own the plot and a very sad, sick mind but that is about it.

Primer: Squid is contemplating suicide. Spongebob is torn up and confused, and not being able to sleep, takes it upon himself to drop in on his secret crush. Not your typical happy ending. Of course this is fiction, but I just happen to be a consummate realist (something I picked up from Bulma). So, although I am opening the door to romance, it comes at a price. Love is just not that simple. I dedicate this to all the hopeless romantics out there that have met this same sour, tragic fate. Not so much cursing this time. In fact, I don't think there is any.

Songs used: "To Be Free" Emiliana Torrini (from the beginning to where Spongebob spies the pills), "Bother" by Stone Sour (picks up from the first and ends around the time Squidward becomes agitated), and "I Know" by Jude (begins in the kitchen and stretches on to the end). Lyrics removed as of August 13th, 2005.

Bother

By: Creature of Habit

Spongebob curled deeper into the soft sanctuary of cotton sheets. On any other night he would be drifting into a satiated, comforting sleep, consoled by their gentle coolness. But, tonight, the usual, familiar crispness made him feel isolated and dejected. So lonely and alone and cold. Snuggling his legs to his middle, he brushed aside another fit of tears, his quiet, discordant sniffles floating through the darkened liquid like dust particles.

The scene in the diner burned through his mind like an arson fire. It licked at his thoughts and singed his bruised heart. He tried to shut out the pain, but it seemed the more he tried, the more fierce and ardent the flames became. It did nothing but put more fuel on the fire. The searing heat suffocated him inside, and after tossing and turning and crying for more than an hour, he had made up his mind.

I need to see Squidward.

Squirming a moment to untangle his trembling spongy body from the cloying sheets, Spongebob tiptoed across the room and slipped into his long cerulean robe. In no mood to go through the motions of dolling up in his normal, more formal, attire, the robe seemed decent enough. It was half past one in the morning, and besides, he was only going next door. Peering through the murky atmosphere he sighed in relief, pleased that he had not disturbed Gary.

He descended the stairs one by one, his feet feeling both leaden and numb. It felt like forever as he crossed room after room to get to the front door, and once he did, he almost did not trust himself to see the idea through. It took a good ten minutes of psychological preparation before he got it together enough to open the door and forge on ahead.

I sure hope I'm doing the right thing.

The Easter Island residence stood dark and silent. One dim light resonated from the direction of the dining room, and Spongebob deduced that it had to be candlelight. It was much too soft to be anything else. On the inside, he could make out the outline of an inky, distorted silhouette. He hesitated in his stride as he approached, a slapdash blend of panic and curiosity nipping at his heels. Should he knock, or take a peek?

Of course I should knock. I am not here to spy on him. Intruding on his privacy would be wrong. Spongebob berated himself. But, despite the moral lecture he had just given himself, for some indescribable reason, his feet led him to the window. Principles and scruples be damned. The sight that met him at once saddened and inspired him.

Inside sat Squidward, his thin, lithe frame illuminated by the surreal ambience of aromatheraputic candles. His hunched posture spoke of the usual despair and hopelessness, and although gorgeous in the eyes of his admirer, the doleful expression did not sit right with Spongebob this time. Something made his spine tingle, and it had nothing to do with the butterflies tittering like lightning ions in his stomach.

Sighing to himself, he made for the door and steeled himself to knock. Or, I could just go in. Spongebob thought, grinning out of habit, as he reached for the knob and quietly turned it, slipping in and closing the old door behind him. He let his eyes a moment to adjust to the light streaming in from the far room.

Squidward nibbled his bottom lip, plucking another cigarette from the thinning pack and lighting up. He had been so caught up in thoughts of unrequited love that he had not noticed that the very object of his desires had just strolled through the front door. Of course, it was doubtful it would have made much of a difference if he had taken notice. The lovesick Squid had at last resigned himself to the bleak, desolate fate that had hounded him since birth. His loneliness was a beast he just could not shake.

Spongebob could feel his insides turning to mush. Squid had intrigued and infatuated him for as long as he could remember. The aloof man was cultured and sophisticated and dark. He was an utter mystery – a true riddle wrapped in an enigma. The hard edge and dry humour of the sour older man could seduce him on the spot and the sparse smiles and jaded laugh held him spellbound. Unlike Spongebob, Squid sought the loner life and relied on his resources alone. The sardonic, temperamental octopus was a dramatic contrast to the polite, sociable sponge.

And that is why I fell in love with him.

Spongebob edged closer to the dining room, so entranced, in part from being so tired and also in part because of Squid, that at first the bottle of pills did not register. But, looking closer, his eyes better adjusted, he could read the inscription: sleeping pills. Blinking once, and then again, it began to sink in. Sleeping pills ... an open, empty bottle of sleeping pills.

"Squid ... ward."

The brooding octopus started at the mention of his name, looking in absurd confusion at his rapidly paling neighbor. He squinted and rubbed a bandaged tentacle across his eyes, trying to digest the scene and make certain he was not delusional. Coming fast to the conclusion that had not hallucinated his obnoxious neighbor, he regarded the shocked spectacle staring at him as though he had just sprouted a second head.

"Spongebob." He breathed in a hiss. "I need to get a lock for that door." He groused, one tentacle flicking his cigarette before lifting it to his lips again for another casual drag.

"Squid," Spongebob began in disbelief, tiptoeing to the table and picking up bottle, "d-did you ... you t-take these?" He cast a pleading glance at the other man, their difference in height bringing them eye to eye. "Squid – you took these, didn't you?" Spongebob almost sobbed, the somber, apologetic tone seeping through the maroon orbs told him that he had. "No, Squid – Squid, how many ... why did you do it?" He clutched the bottle so tight his knuckles began to bleed white.

"I didn't count. And none of your damn business." Squid tried to spit but it came out more of a lethargic hum as he put out his cigarette.

"You bet your sweet tentacles it's my business!" Spongebob shouted, dropping the bottle and grabbing hold of the lapels of the white cotton robe. He jerked the perplexed man upright, bringing them nose to nose. "Tell me!" He ranted, shaking the limp figure every other word to get his point across. "I mean it, Squidward, you tell me right now!" Spongebob bit his lip to keep from crying, his hands fisting in the plush material.

"S-stop it. Spongebob. Stop, please." Squid managed at last to choke out, clutching Spongebob's hands in a pair of cool, listless tentacles. His eyes began to roll back and had started to feel as though he might pass out. "Spongebob. You idiot." He mournfully scolded, his leaden head falling to rest against the panting chest of his panicking neighbor.

"Squid." Spongebob started, gaping at the bandaged tentacle. "Holy Neptune, Squid – what did you do?" He pulled the appendage in closer to inspect it, only to have Squidward pull it out of his grasp.

"It's not important." Squidward gurgled, trying to hide the tentacle in his lap.

"Yes it is. Squid, the pills, tell me." Spongebob asked again, trying to stay calm and collected for the sake of Squidward. "Please." One slender arm slid around to the weakening man's back, a sympathetic hand rubbing soothing circles along the tensing muscles of his shoulders and neck. The petrified sponge rested his chin on the smooth, bald head, keeping patient as Squid caught his breath and tried to think.

"I'm not sure. Maybe ten. Maybe more." Squid recounted, his tentacles tightening around the hand still latched like a bear trap to his robe lapel. He tried to ignore the strange feelings, doing his best to focus his attention on the soft, comforting figure in front of him. But the lightheaded, detached sensation kept getting worse, and for the first time in a long time he felt terrified. "Sponge – Sp ... Spongebob," He panted, a tentacle curling in desperation about the square-shaped middle, "I'm scared."

"Ssshhh. It's going to be okay, Squid." Spongebob soothed, rubbing his back more ardently. "How long ago did you take those - Do you remember?" He queried, sliding a gentle finger under the octopus's chin so he could look into the cloudy mahogany spheres. He could have cried then and there. He could not recall a time he had seen Squid so meek and frightened.

"I – I'm not sure." Squid moaned, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate. "Ju-just before you came in." He sobbed, dry throat cracking and the tipsy feeling in his head becoming almost unbearable. "Spongebob." Squid slid another tentacle around the soft frame, burying his head in the ambrosial cerulean cloth and clutching him as tight as he could.

Spongebob cradled the trembling, hysterical Squid in his arms, trying to think of something to do. He massaged Squid's shoulders trying to keep him calm. Then, it hit him.

"Squid, sit up a minute," Spongebob said, situating the squirming man into an upright position. Sure that Squid wasn't going to fall onto the floor, he darted to the refrigerator and cupboard, taking out the container of milk and pouring up a large glass. "Here, Squid," he said, putting the glass to the quivering lips, "Drink this. It'll stop them from absorbing."

Soon, Squid had polished off the last of the milk and Spongebob helped him hobble out to the couch. He located a blanket and wrapped it about the semi-conscious octopus, cuddling him as close as possible and brushing soothing hands along his back and shoulders. He had longed to do this for ages, though he had not imagined it to come amidst such depressing a thing as suicide. He closed his eyes, figuring this to be the first, last, and only time he would be able to do be this close to him. If Squid did not die, then he was bound to come to his senses and reject him as he had such an awful penchant to do.

Squid came to some time later, and glancing at the clock found it to be nearing five in the morning. Outside, the sun had yet to rise, though some of the candles had not yet burned out. It vaguely registered that he was lying against something warm and soft. The fog had yet to clear from his mind, though, and thus he could not place the odd sense of comfort or the reason for it. He tried to lift his head, but he couldn't get it to budge. He sighed and snuggled closer to the silent, breathing heap puddled around him, trying to piece things together.

Something about a pill. I was upset, that's right. I took sleeping pills. I had that falling out with Spongebob. I came home and got so depressed I tried to commit suicide. Spongebob – then Spongebob ... oh dear Neptune. Squid froze. The memories at last came clear enough to make out. Struggling to push himself into a sitting position, he gingerly let his eyes fall on the soft, warm heap that he had been napping on. Oh no.

"Squid." Spongebob murmured, sparkling blue eyes fluttering open adorably. "Squid." He grinned in relief. "You're okay." One tender yellow hand lit against his cheek, an inquisitive thumb teasing a line along the smooth sage skin. Before Squid understood any better, Spongebob had climbed onto his lap and again had a hold of his robe, sky blue eyes darkening to deep, dangerous cobalt. "You had me so worried." He admonished in a hurt snarl, eyes at once softening and beginning to brim salty tears. "I thought I had lost you." Spongebob squealed, latching onto the confused squid, hands ghosting over every inch of him that he could find.

Squid's breath hitched in his throat. He had to be imaging this. But, it felt so real. It felt like heaven. So, maybe he had died, after all. Just then, one of the hands that caressed him tickled along the base of his spine, causing him to gasp despite himself. Oh, Neptune that feels good. No, wait – stop, stop it.

"Spongebob." Stop it. You have to stop this.

"Squid."

"Spongebob." So innocent. You have no idea what you're doing. Moron.

"Squid."

"Spongebob." St-st-don't stop.

"Squidward." Spongebob sat up, looking more serious than the sour squid had thought possible for the bubbly bundle of merriment. Delicate hands slid up to rest on the taut shoulders, nails digging delightful crescents in the slippery bare skin. Squid blinked, not sure what to expect as the hands slithered up his neck, once bold fingers becoming ginger and timid as they traced his collarbone and facial features.

"Sp-Spongebob, please." Squid tried to suppress the moan bubbling up in his throat.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a beauty mark there." Spongebob smiled, gliding a finger along the black dot on the side of Squid's neck. "Neat!" The youthful sponge chirped.

"Yeah, sure. Okay." Squid intoned, batting at the curious finger and glaring. "Are you done yet?" The grim man groused, looking quite discomforted. It seemed that Spongebob had altogether forgotten that he sat straddling his cantankerous neighbor's lap, but the blush-inducing position had not eluded poor Squid, who, if he were one to blush, would have been doing just that.

"Squid. I care about you." Spongebob sighed. He had tried to get the snarky man to see that for an age of years. It hadn't yet gotten through, but Spongebob was nothing if not persistent. Squid needed a friend, he needed someone to take care of him, and Spongebob planned on being that friend and someone. Everyone deserved to be loved.

"Of course you do." Squid mocked. "You care about everyone, Spongebob." Here we go again. "Okay, enough, get off of me." Squid growled, trying to hide the hurt in his voice as he pushed the flirtatious yellow square to the other side of the couch. "Go on home, Spongebob. Go back to Patrick and the rest of Bikini Bottom. Get out of my sight." Squid ground out, gathering his robe about his unsteady frame and stomping off into the kitchen.

Spongebob blinked, confused. What just happened? Squid had a habit of being rude and unpredictable at times, but this cut it. I thought things were going good. I don't understand – what did I do to make him so angry? Spongebob, regaining his usual bulldog determination, collected himself and trotted out to the kitchen. Squid stood at the counter, sifting out grounds to make a pot of morning coffee.

"Squidward? Are you okay?" Spongebob fidgeted. His eyes trailed the silent, impudent man's movements as he measured out the grounds and added them to the machine.

"I told you to get out of here." Squid mumbled, keeping his back to his irritating obsession and hoping if he ignored him it might help things sink in.

"I just said I care about you. Caring is a good thing. I think." Spongebob retorted, scratching his head. He was becoming a bit impatient and more than perplexed at his obstinate, anti-social neighbor's reaction to something so innocent.

"Spongebob." Squid sighed in frustration, a loud crack resounding through the quiet room as he slammed the mug he had taken out the cupboard onto the counter. He turned to face the insistent one, tentacle on hip, face lit up in the best disaffected scowl he could muster. "I get it. You care. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to be alone." Once more turning his back on the dense sponge, he set about to pouring water into the coffee maker.

"But, that's the problem, Squidward. You're alone all the time. It isn't good for you. You need friends." Spongebob tried again. He had to get Squid to come to his senses on this. Being alone so often had made him bitter and cold and intolerable. It just wasn't good for his mental health. Of, that of Spongebob, who spent so much time trying to get him out of his shell.

"I don't need friends." Squid argued, turning on his heel and death glaring. "I never had any as a child. I never had any in school. I've never had any as an adult. I got used to it. It's all I've ever known. I like it, okay. I don't want friends. I am not you, Spongebob. Get that through your think head. I don't need friends. For the last time, please get out of my house. Go back to your boyfriend, Patrick." Squidward snarled, pointing a stern tentacle in the direction of the front door.

"Patrick. Boyfriend." Spongebob blinked incredulously a couple of times before grimacing at the outrageous accusation. "Squidward, Patrick is not my boyfriend." The sore sponge corrected. "Besides, he's been dating Sandy for almost three years." Spongebob said brightening.

Squid stood dumbfounded – dumbfounded and secretly delighted.

"So ... can I stay for coffee?" Spongebob managed to squeak out, rubbing a timid hand along his arm.

"Like it would do me any good to tell you no." Squid mumbled flatly, tentacle falling limp to his side and shoulders slumping in defeat. He felt a touch better about letting him hang around after finding out that he and Patrick were not an item.

"Thanks, Squid." Spongebob beamed, back to his usual optimistic spirit. So that's what was eating at him. He thought Patrick and I were a couple. I wonder if he'll be nicer to me now that he knows we're not.

"Whatever." Squid shrugged and sighed, taking a blue mug out the cupboard and placing it beside his purple one.

Soon, the pair sat at the kitchen table quietly sipping steaming cups of gourmet espresso. Squidward had stepped out to retrieve the morning paper from the front stoop, and Spongebob sat trying to make out what he could of the publication from his side. It had been almost five minutes, and the silence had finally caught up to our loquacious little sponge.

"Hey!" Spongebob exclaimed as he read the front page headline, "It says here they're going to remodel some of the exhibits at the Bikini Bottom Zoo." He proceeded to begin reading the article aloud, much to the disgust of his laconic host.

"Spongebob." Squid dropped the paper to cast him a displeased look. "I let you stay for coffee. I would appreciate it if you would be quiet and let me read my paper in peace." He lifted the paper, once again obscuring his face.

"Oh, tartar sauce. Squid, I'm just trying to be nice to you." Spongebob pouted, gliding an absent-minded finger about the rim of the dark blue coffee mug.

"Don't." Squid replied, trying to keep his mind on the paper and off of the good-natured bane of his existence that sat beside him.

"But, why? Why are you so afraid of someone being nice to you?" Spongebob retaliated, flattening his hands on the table and looking at the paper. Enough is enough. Raising a hand, he squished the paper onto the table, bound and determined to get an answer. "I want to know."

"Spongebob, just drop it." Squid implored, trying to get Spongebob to let loose of the paper. "Let go of the paper, you idiot. I am trying to read it." Squid spit, smacking at the hand none too politely. I knew this was a bad idea.

"I'm not going to drop it until you tell me why you won't let me be nice to you." Spongebob declared, latching onto the paper tighter, and in the struggle ripping it. "Oops. Sorry." Uh oh. He's mad.

"Now look what you did!" Squidward shouted in dismay. "You barnacle head! Oh, forget it." Gathering up the scattered bits and pieces of paper, the cross octopus angrily tossed them in the trash bin and headed for the other room, not bothering this time to try to make the other go home. What's the use. He never listens anyway.

Spongebob mentally kicked himself. That wasn't supposed to happen. It seemed nothing he did could make things better. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am all of those bad things he says I am. I try so hard to make him happy, but instead it just makes angry. Maybe he's right.

"You forgot this." Spongebob said meekly as he put the cup of espresso in front of Squid, cringing as the perturbed man snatched it out of hand. Clearing a place on the couch, he sat down, trying to think of something that wouldn't make his secret crush mad at him. "Squidward, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He apologized, staring into his cup of coffee.

No response.

"I guess you're right. I guess you really don't want to be my friend. I keep trying to convince myself that you just need time to adjust, but I can see that isn't it. I'm sorry I put you through all of that. I promise I won't bother you anymore." Spongebob felt his heart drop. He didn't agree with what he was saying. He didn't want to leave Squid alone. But the last thing he ever wanted to do was upset him. So, if Squid wanted to be left alone, then he would let him alone. Or, at least pretend to.

"Why?" An inaudible question.

"Huh?" Spongebob couldn't quite be sure if Squid had said it or he had just imagined it.

"Why – why do you care?" Squid elaborated, taking a sullen sip of espresso and keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Because I do." Spongebob replied, again confused.

"You shouldn't." Squid reasoned, rubbing a tentacle along his arm to try to comfort himself.

"Of course I should. Squid, you're losing me." Spongebob looked to the morose octopus for some sort of explanation.

"You shouldn't care. No one else does. I'm a nobody – a complete nothing. No one cares about a nobody." Squid elucidated, turning his face to the side in shame.

"Look on the bright side, Squid. Nobody is perfect, and so if you're a nobody, that makes you perfect!" Spongebob tried to bring a bit of levity to the sad predicament. It didn't work, though, he could see, as Squid cast him a disturbed glare before scooting off and curling up at the far end of the couch.

"I did it again." Spongebob sobbed in frustration. "Squid, please. I didn't mean it that way. I was just trying to cheer you up." Scooting nearer to the moping octopus, he reached out a hand to console him.

"Don't touch me." Squid spat, tensing and curling up into a tighter ball.

"Squid, this is nonsense." Spongebob admonished him, reaching out a tender hand and massaging his back despite the threat not to. It took a minute, but at last Squid stopped resisting and seemed to submit to the soothing physical contact. "Squid, I know that my being nice doesn't mean much to you because you think it's just in my nature to be like this. Sure, that's true, but there are a lot of things I do for you, or at least I try to, that I don't for anyone else because ... you're special to me." Spongebob gulped, taking a deep breath as Squid peeked around his shoulder to get a better look at him.

"What are you getting at?" Squid inquired, his voice soft and muffled.

"I'm saying that – if I need advice, you're the first person who comes to mind. I try to ask you, but you just get mad at me and tell me to go home. I stick up for you a lot, and I help you out when you need it. I let you scream at me and insult me and I don't get upset about it. I let you stay at my house that one time and I took care of you. Of course, you did take advantage of me and make me dress up in that terrible maid outfit, but that's okay. I helped you on that strike. Of course, I didn't know what a strike was and I almost lost my job, but I don't hold that against you. And then there was that time ..."

"Spongebob," Squid interjected, slapping a tentacle over the rambling Sponge's mouth, "I get it."

"Squid, it isn't that I care about you the same. It's that you won't let me care about you like I do." Spongebob confessed, nibbling his lower lip and boring holes into the floor as Squid had been doing before. "Squidward, please." Spongebob pleaded, raising his eyes to the other man again. "Let me."

Squid let his eyes drop to his cup of espresso, seeming to ruminate on the idea. He had not been expecting this. He had not been prepared for it. Rejection, yes. But this – not in a million years. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he tried to keep himself in one piece. It was so tempting to act on impulse, but, of course, that would ruin everything. He had gone through a lot of hurt in his life. He had just suffered the shock of suicide. It just wasn't that simple. But it was a start.

"Okay." He choked out, nodding, tears slipping from under his closed lids.

"Squid." Spongebob cooed in an effort to comfort him, sliding his hand around the other's shoulders and pulling him into a chaste embrace. "You take the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He soothed, offering a reassuring squeeze to the trembling shoulders. "You go ahead and cry if you need to. Get it out. That's okay. I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

Outside the Easter Island residence, the sun began to rise on another day in Bikini Bottom. Inside, Spongebob and Squidward huddled close together on the couch drifting into a contented slumber, hearts and souls feeling lighter that air. It would take time, but as Shakespeare said, the road to love is never an easy one.

Fin.

Okay, you can come out now. It's over. It's pathetic and probably disturbing, but I think it's cute. I don't mind that a lot of people most likely think I am a depraved pervert with too much time on her hands. I had fun, and that is what is important. Besides, it is isn't like I wrote a make-out scene or anything. It wouldn't bother me, of course, but my point in this was to gain experience in getting inside a character's head. I am going to need it if I don't get my co-partner back soon. I hate putting you through these lame stories and whatnot (and no doubt scarring your minds with this crap) but is has a purpose.

Review if you're up to it. Like it or not, I'd like to hear. I don't mind. Lay it on me. If anyone does like this, I might think of writing another one.

Squidward (glaring skeptically): Shouldn't Spongebob be the one acting like a blubbering, sentimental idiot?
Creature of Habit (blinks): You don't like it?
Squidward(deadpan): No.
Creature of Habit (sighs): I should've expected that.
Spongebob(beams): I liked it!
Squidward(rolls his eyes): You like everything, barnacle-brain.
Creature of Habit (play-smacks Squid): Quiet you. Thank you Spongebob.
Squidward(scowls): Stop encouraging him.
Creature of Habit(pouts): Squidward, go play your clarinet.
Spongebob(grins): Yeah. Play it outside. Creature has bad crab grass this year.
Squidward(quirks a brow): So?
Spongebob: So ... if you play your clarinet it will make it go away.
Creature of Habit(is in hysterics)
Squidward(not amused): Very funny. I'm out of here.(stomps off)
Spongebob(confused): Did I do something wrong?
Creature of Habit(still laughing her pants off)