Chapter Text
It wasn’t often Spongebob came from one of his off-day affairs in distress. It was rare, actually.
When Sunday rolled around, and the Krusty Krab was closed, Spongebob would usually run off to Jellyfish Fields with Patrick or spend time practicing “karat-tay” with Sandy at the Treedome or some other trivially childish activity. Squidward didn’t know and, frankly, didn’t care.
However, this time was different.
Squidward had been in his studio painting (using, admittedly, too much yellow for a self portrait) when Spongebob had returned from his day out, dragging his feet through the sand and bringing about a general air of… something. The guy sighed heavily to himself, and Squidward could hear him unlock his door and shut himself inside, leaving the lights off at a time much too early for Spongebob.
He almost… felt bad…
Pah! There was no way he could be bothered to go over there.
Squidward continued with his painting, using his hands and guidance of the brush to articulate and formulate the structure of the subject. He used the yellow to offset the gloomy tones his focus figure presented. It reminded him of how Spongebob was always a foil to his personality; the two were always opposite each other. He trailed the paintbrush along the anatomy of the subject, a geometric-style of yellow lighting to offset the almost formless and droopy self-caricature.
Kind of like…
Oh, to hell with it.
~
“Spongebob! Spongebob!” Squidward rapped his knuckles furiously on Spongebob’s door.
The door opened, but no familiarly charismatic character was around to be seen.
“Mow.”
Squidward almost jumped out of his skin when Gary appeared from behind the door. “Gah! Neptune, Gary, don’t do that!”
Squidward could have sworn Gary rolled his eyes. The cat stalked in front of Squidward, sitting and licking his paw. “Gary, do you know where Spongebob is?” Gary tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. “Um… o-okay, thanks Gary.” Squidward raised his shoulders, awkwardness building.
The four-legged man made his way to the stairs, hearing much too loudly the creak that accompanied each impact between his feet and the stairs. When he reached the top, he saw that Spongebob’s bedroom door was closed.
Squidward had not often been in Spongebob’s house (at least, not by his own will), but when he had, he recognized two things; one: Spongebob’s house was never completely silent unless he was out of his home—he usually had the TV on or soft music playing from somewhere, and two: he never closed the door to his bedroom unless there was something seriously wrong.
“Spongebob?” Squidward prodded, carefully opening the door. He glanced around the dark room, gaze landing on the bed.
The person Squidward had been looking for was in his bed, laying with his back turned to the door.
Squidward suddenly felt cowardly. He was inept when it came to consolation, so when heard the despondent, quiet sobs and sniffles from the other occupant of the room, he froze. He considered leaving—backing away and pretending he wasn’t there at all. However, the tangible gloominess and heavy blue of the room forced him otherwise.
He left the door open a crack as he entered the dark room, walking quietly over to the bed. He sat down in the middle, still unable to see his neighbor’s freckled face. “Spongebob-“
Squidward froze when his neighbor whipped his face around to look at him with a look he had never seen. It was hurt—true hurt, like Squidward hadn’t seen. Sure, he’d insulted the guy plenty of times, but even his meanest kickers never earned this look.
Spongebob’s face was pale, but bright red around his nose and cheeks. There were tears and snot running down his face and his eyes were pink. His brow furrowed in a sad look and his eyelids hung slightly over his eyes as tears gathered and threatened to spill. Squidward almost recoiled when he saw the bright and happy sky blue’s replacement: dull, melancholic, lackluster blue.
“Are you here to insult me too?”
The question was spit at him, figuratively, and, though it didn’t seem meant to hurt him particularly, it struck him in a way nothing had before.
“Woah… hey, now...” Squidward’s hand moved on its own, sneaking to Spongebob’s back and rubbing gentle circles in it. His awkward voice seemed to comfort Spongebob at least a little bit.
“What happened?”
Spongebob turned his face away again, laying it on the pillow. “What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever been told?” Spongebob’s flat tone caught Squidward off-guard. He didn’t know how to answer that question. “Spongebob…”
The ginger took a deep inhale and breathed out for a moment. “Somebody… somebody told me… while I was playing tag in the park with Sandy and Patrick… that-that…” Spongebob shivered and sniffled. “They told me that… my fr-friends keep me around as entertainment… and asked me if I knew that people just tolerate me. They asked me if I knew that people never really liked me.”
Squidward furrowed his brow. He had been mean to the guy before, but this was a new low. Before Squidward could respond, however, Spongebob spoke up once more. “They… they told me they felt horrible for my parents… because they had made the biggest mistake of their lives the day I was born. All-“ Spongebob sobbed pathetically, “all I did was… I accidentally tripped on their picnic food and… I felt so bad… and I tried to tell them that I could, I don’t know, make a free Krabby Patty or something.” Squidward heard him exhale out his nose. “They said my career as a frycook was worthless. They left after all of that.”
Squidward frowned. This was a new low he had never seen before. “Who made you cry?” Spongebob turned to look at him again. “Squidward, I-“ “Who made you cry? Where’d they go?” Squidward felt his voice go low.
“It-it was, um…”
Spongebob’s face turned red, as if he was embarrassed for the verbal assailant. “Um… remember that customer… the customer we served the first ever Krusty Krab Pizza to?” Spongebob’s eyes avoided Squidward’s. “Uh… it was-it was him.” Squidward frowned.
“I remember.”
He thought to himself. He could find that customer, or…
“You know what I also remember?”
Spongebob raised his eyebrows and glanced at him.
“‘Krusty Krab Pizza is the pizza for you and me!’” He sung horribly raspy and off-key.
Spongebob looked away. “Squid, you don’t have to-“ “‘Krusty Krab Pizza is the pizza absolu-tive-a-ly!’” He continued. He poorly mocked the beatboxing that followed.
“Squid-“ Spongebob snickered, trying to hide his laughter, “Squid, it’s not- it’s not funny-“ “‘Krusty Kra-a-aya-eeya-yeah-eeya-eey-ab Pizza… is the pizza-yeah-ah, for you and- me-ee-ee-hee-ee!’” Squidward sung poorly, purposefully.
“Squi-idward! Stop!” Spongebob’s words were chopped as he snorted, shoving Squidward playfully.
Squidward smirked playfully, knowing what to do. “You’d better be feeling better, or else…” Spongebob looked at him with wide eyes, a smile threatening to break through as he bit his lip. “‘Or else’ what?” Squidward bit back laughter of his own. “Or el-or else… the… the Hash Slinging Sla-Slasher… the Hash Slinging Slasher’ll… get ya!” Squidward teased, raising his hands faux-threateningly.
Spongebob full-on laughed, prompting Squidward himself to join, despite his wanting to hold back. They laughed together, genuinely.
Though Squidward was ashamed to admit it, hearing Spongebob’s laugh was the most refreshing sound he had heard all day. Once the laughter had subsided, and Squidward found himself laying parallel to Spongebob, and the two gasped for air from how hard they were laughing, Squidward looked at Spongebob.
“Hey.”
Spongebob looked at him.
His face was bright red, and he was tear-streaked, but he was sure his own was too. They had laughed so hard they cried.
Squidward cleared his throat.
“I know I’ve been… less than, uh, pleasant… in the past, but…”
Spongebob’s face was still bright red, but the tears had long since dried, it seemed.
“I… I hope you, uh, know that… I don’t think any of that stuff that guy said was, er, true.”
Spongebob’s face continued to stay red. Squidward knew his own was too.
“That, uh… means a lot. Than-thank you, Squidward.”
Squidward felt an odd warmth within himself.
“You’re welcome.”
When Squidward finished his painting, there was a heavy amount of yellow in comparison to the blue subject.
And he was fine with that.