Quick Author's Notes:
I would like to thank a wonderful writer here on FF, Commander. She has allowed me to use a Sandy POV letter that she wrote as a baseline for a story that's been running through my head for quite some time, and I don't know how I would have made this story work without it. So thank you, Commander! Now, on to the story!
--
Sandy's POV:
It felt strange...so strange. I stared in utter astonishment at the letter that I'd just written.
It was for him. I knew it was. I also knew that he'd never read it. I wouldn't Let him. Never, in my life, would I purposefully subject someone to the kind of mental torture I was experiencing that evening. I'd somehow managed to cry myself to sleep, but I didn't wake up feeling much better—if anything, I felt worse.
The past couple of weeks have been living hell for me...and I"m not one to exaggerate.
That's why I decided to do it. I was going to put an end to this misery, at no one's expense except my own.
SpongeBob's POV:
Sandy's been acting strange lately. I'm not sure how...she just doesn't seem like Sandy anymore! She's become withdrawn, quiet...she doesn't seem happy to see me, like she used to. I'm scared for her...I think she's getting sick! I have to find out what's wrong with her. That's hwy I invited her over for lunch today! Dear Neptune, please don't let me be the problem.
Third Person's Perspective:
Sandy had, in fact, changed. Her spirits were heavy today, as she trotted mindlessly down the road to SpongeBob's house.
As for being sick? That, she was. Lovesick...sadly and literally love sick.
Sure, her first observation of the chipper little sea sponge had been 'My, he's a cute little thing!'
But she hadn't thought much past that point. She'd never imagined them becoming best friends...she'd never imagined falling in love with someone who simply couldn't feel the same way.
Love, in her mind as a child, had been so easy and careless. You met your Prince Charming, fell in love, got married, and lived happily ever after.
But she'd soon discovered that real life was no fairy tale.
Knock knock knock!
SpongeBob opened the front door, to see Sandy wearing a pasted-on smile. "Hey, come on in!" he greeted.
She thanked him quietly and walked inside. Already that sick feeling was returning, as the two sat down for a light meal.
"So, what's been on your mind lately?" SpongeBob asked, nonchalantly.
Sandy shrugged. "Usual. Work, news." You. She added silently.
SpongeBob looked at his fork, and concentrated hard on it, as if memorizing the pattern in the handle. "Any...depressing news lately?"
That was a strange question for him to ask. Was her unsettledness apparent?
Sandy shrugged. "Nope."
"Well, okay!"
A few minutes of silence passed, SpongeBob stuffing himself heartily as Sandy pushed her salad around with her fork.
She didn't want to eat.
"So, you wanna come jelly fishing tomorrow?"
She didn't know why, but something in that sentence made Sandy snap. Couldn't he see how upset she was? What was wrong with him?!
She jumped up from the table. "No, I don't! All you ever do is play! Do you really think life's all fun and games? Grow up already!"
Before the young squirrel could even dash out the door, tears had overcome her.
SpongeBob sat at his dining room table, more baffled than ever at Sandy's behavior.
"Add runs out the door, sobbing hysterically..." He mumbled. Maybe he should...no, wouldn't that have just worsened the situation?
Overcome with a fountain of emotion—sadness, worry, hurt, hope, but most of all, fear.
He remembered only two people that had acted similar to the way that Sandy was, and he wished to erase the outcome from his memory. Not Sandy, He thought. Please, Neptune, not her!
Panic became the dominant emotion, and SpongeBob found himself rushing out his front door after Sandy.
Maybe it is me. He thought, but quickly pushed the dreadful notion aside. There were bigger things to worry about right now.
She was completely out of breath. Once she'd reached the top of the hill, it was all Sandy could do to flop down on the ground, heart pounding, lungs burning.
I really can't do this.
She was beyond tears at this point, hardly managing to breath, let alone hurt.
It felt good, the lack of hurt. It allowed for hope, and for the one thought that had kept her going this long.
Maybe he just needs time.
But nine years was a long time to live on the same hope, and as she regained her strength, that hope dwindled.
"Sandy!"
What the—how had he found her? Had he followed her, could he really run that fast for that long?
"SpongeBob, why did you follow me?"
"I was worried." He was so hardly audible, Sandy almost felt bad for snapping.
SpongeBob took a deep breath. He had to figure out what was wrong, and to do that, now, he knew he had to corner her. "Sandy...you haven't been acting yourself. Tell me what's wrong!"
"I told you, you wouldn't understand." She grumbled, clambering to her feet.
"So help me to understand!"
"SpongeBob, I can't!"
"Sandy--"
"Just stop!" Sandy's tone had elevated with anger, and she began walking away.
SpongeBob stood, watching her walk. His heart was pounding in his chest. You have to tell her. He thought. You have to tell her now. Suddenly, the ground became very interesting, and SpongeBob stared intently at it for a second or two. He sighed.
"Sandy," He looked up. "There's something I--"
She was nowhere to be seen.
"Sandy?"
Sandy Cheeks sat, and stared, over the small underwater town of Bikini Bottom. She let her feet dangle, her heels repeatedly hitting the cliff who's edge she was seated upon.
This is it. She thought. No more hurt. No more want-and-can't-have. No more him.
Deep breath.
"Sandy! What are you doing?"
And a huff.
"I'm going over, SpongeBob. I'm going over, and there's nothin' you can do to stop me." In a moment, Sandy realized that she'd been crying, and wiped the tears away with a shaky hand.
"Don't!" SpongeBob had pain in his voice...a certain pain that Sandy had never heard from him before.
"Why shouldn't I?" She retorted, anger and tears reflecting her true inner sadness. Unlike before, this stunt wasn't just a ploy for his attention, or a rash dare-devil action; she just wanted the hurt to go away.
SpongeBob took a deep, shaking breath. "Because..." he sat down next to her. "Who will go jellyfishing with me?"
Sandy scoffed, enraged. "Patrick."
Nearly in tears, SpongeBob cut back in. "I'm not finished; who will take me on picnics when nobody else even wants to see me? Who'll tell me when I'm wrong about a chemical mixture and keep me from blowing myself up? Who will I play karate with or get my butt kicked by on Thursdays? Sandy, who--"
"Shoot, SpongeBob, I'm sick of games, I'm sick of playing!" She shouted.
SpongeBob flinched, tears spilling silently from his eyes, and he stared down at the ground hundreds of feet below.
"Sandy, who would I love?"
The words were whispered so quietly, so timidly, that Sandy was sure she was hearing things in the wind.
"...what—did you say...?"
He didn't look up. "Who would I love?"
The words took a moment to process. Through the tears and the dirt, the sorrow and the anger, the hurt and the fear, it took a while for the thought to register.
SpongeBob still wouldn't look up, trying not to cry and shaking all over.
"SpongeBob, what--"
"Sandy, I love you! I've loved you for so long now, and I wanted to tell you before," he finally faced her. "But I was afraid that...and...and...and..." He flung himself onto her, sobbing, no longer even vainly attempting to disguise his tears. "Sandy, please don't jump off of that cliff! I couldn't live with the hurt, I'd feel like it was all my fault, I'm sorry, you can't, I can't—I won't let you..." He burst into tears. "Sandy..."
Sandy was still trying to make sense of his first sentence, playing it through her head over and over. Had it meant what she thought—what she hoped it did? Sandy, I love you!
"SpongeBob," She murmured.
"Yes?" He held his breath.
"Say it again."
"...I'm sorry--"
"No, the first thing you said."
He sniffed. "...I love you?"
"Yeah, that." For once, Sandy did the lady-like thing; she fainted.
SpongeBob blinked. "Sandy? ...Sandy?" SpongeBob sat with the unconscious squirrel in his arms, not quite sure what to do, and forgetting even to breath. He gently shook her. "Sandy, wake up!"
Not even a twitch.
Well, on the bright side, He thought, At least I can move her away from this cliff.
He picked her up, carrying her carefully in the direction of her treedome.
--
Sandy slowly became aware of her surroundings: A bed...no, a couch. Her couch. In her living room. How did she get here? She noticed a cool, damp rag on her forehead as well. And...a hand, on top of her own.
She stirred.
"Sandy?"
She knew that voice. It was a comforting, friendly voice.
"SpongeBob?"
A sigh of relief. "Oh, good, you're okay."
Sandy groaned. "What happened?"
SpongeBob hesitated. "You fainted at the top of Coral Cliff."
"How'd I get back here?"
"I carried you."
"Oh."
Several moments of awkward silence floated around, before SpongeBob finally spoke up. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Sandy turned to look at him. "Tell you what?"
"The letter. You left it on the coffee table. Why didn't you tell me you felt like that? How was I supposed to know?" Pain washed through SpongeBob's voice.
"I didn't think...I didn't know..." No words would come to her.
"For so long," SpongeBob whispered. "I wanted to tell you. But...you're so...and I'm so...y'know..."
"I'm sorry." Sandy whispered back, not wanting to speak louder than him, but at the same time wishing she could scream.
"Sandy, I'm not..." The tears were back, and SpongeBob blinked them away. "I'm not like that all the time, you know that. I can—I'm perfectly capable of real emotions...I thought you...I mean, I like to have fun, sure, and play games, but I do have a real sense of responsibility, and if I'd lost you over that cliff, I just don't know..." He was talking just to keep from crying at this point.
Sandy stared at him, embarrassed and sad. "SpongeBob--"
"Sandy," He cut her off. "You don't have to die for me." Without letting himself think about it, SpongeBob yanked his helmet off, grabbed Sandy by the shoulders, and planted a long, careful kiss on her mouth.
For a few seconds, Sandy couldn't breath. This is not happening, was all she could think.
Pulling Sandy directly from a kiss to a hug, SpongeBob whispered, "Sandy, I'm afraid I'm desperately in love with you."
She expected to wake up any moment, Sandy did. This is all in my head, it's just a dream...
They were now face-to-face, Sandy seated on her couch, and SpongeBob standing nervously in front of her. "Well, say something." He mumbled, shyly.
"I...I'm in love with you too!"
A grin cracked across SpongeBob's face, and that was what it took for Sandy to realize that she'd been smiling since he kissed her, in a twitterpated state of good emotions.
Sandy's POV:
A month has passed since Coral Cliff. SpongeBob and I constantly talk now, and we've resolved to move to the beach so we can be together. It's only an hour's walk or a short drive away from town, so SpongeBob can keep his job and current life.
I sit in front of my live fireplace, an open box on the couch, and the letter in my hands.
The month ago that I wrote it seems like decades, and I re-read it once again.
I can't believe it's come to this.
I didn't come down here to lose myself like this. Oh, no! In fact, if I had known how I would be feeling for you before hand, I probably wouldn't have come in the first place. That wasn't what I was looking for! I didn't need the extra hassle of falling in love. I was bigger than that; love was something that happened to the other girl, not me.
All I wanted was a new challenge. Life in Texas was beginning to bore me—and don't get me wrong, I still love Texas. Well, I guess you have first hand knowledge of that, don't you? I swear, if I ever hear you making them offensive remarks about Texas again I'll thrash you within an inch of your life…
Oh, shoot. No, I wouldn't. I could never hurt you. Besides during our karate matches, of course. You know what I mean, don't you? I would never honestly, truly hurt you. I couldn't. I know you understand, and yet you don't, not really. You could never understand how I truly feel for you. Shoot, I hardly understand it myself!
Anyway… when I said I wanted a new challenge, I meant physical! I didn't mean this! I didn't mean to fall in love, and I can't believe I did! All I wanted was to go where no squirrel has gone before. Heck, not just go, but stay. Live. And I guess I knew I'd be meeting all sorts of new critters… but even on land I've never fallen in love before. I was just too busy to; I had better things to do. The thought that I'd actually fall for someone outside of my own species would have made me spit out my pecan pie in a fit of laughter.
But I can't say I'm laughing about it now.
I look back to the day when I first met you, and I wish more than anything that I still felt the way I felt for you then rather than how I feel now. That is, I wish I thought of you as a cute, sweet little sponge with whom I had the potential of becoming fast friends with. Nothing more.
I remember that adorable ferocity you had when you tried—very unsuccessfully, I might add—to rescue me from that giant clam. You didn't even know me, and yet you went out of your way to help me. That's one of the things I love about you—that and your happiness, your silliness, and how unpredictable you are…
I'll admit, I didn't fall for you right away, not like them stupid sappy love stories you can pull out of the 4.99 DVD bin. I've always thought of you as a friend. Still do, in fact. If I didn't, I don't know what I'd do, because I know I can't ever have you the way I truly, deeply want to.
I'm not asking for your love, because I know I have that. Yes, I know you love me! I can tell by the way your eyes light up when you see me, the way your entire body flops when you think you've let me down. Golly, if your absolute begging me to not go after that Alaskan Bull Worm didn't persuade me, I don't know what would have.
But you don't love me the way I love you.
Nuts… I can't tell you how long I tried to convince myself otherwise. That all I had to do was give you time, and finally, one of these days, you'd come to the tree dome, fall on your knees when you saw me, and confess your love for me, and, if I was lucky, pull out an engagement ring! But no, SpongeBob. I know you better than that. That's not the way you love. It could never be the way you love.
I'm not saying that you don't love—on the contrary, you're one of the most loving people I know! It's just that you love everyone with the same, innocent, childlike love—a love that is purely that, love. No romantic undertones, no lustful desires, nothing. You simply love, and that's that.
Like I said, I know you love me that way. You love me in that pure but simple love of a child, just the way you love Patrick, Squidward, Mr. Krabs, even Plankton! Heck, you love just about everyone like that.
I'm just one of many friends in your eyes, ain't I?
I don't want to be. I know how selfish of me it to think so, but if I can't have you loving me the same way that I love you, I'd at least want to be a step above everyone else in your mind. And I guess, in a way, I am—Patrick and I are your best friends, aren't we? Oh yes… you come to us when you have troubles, we know more about you than most other people…
…but admit it, you view everyone as equals, don't you? You've got that wonderful, beautiful caring nature in you that just couldn't think of anyone as being much better than anyone else, could you? In fact, I should be grateful. The fact that you consider Patrick and me as your best friends definitely sets us apart from everyone else—not much, but it's as much as you'll let us.
To try and force you to feel romantically about me would be to change everything about you that is… you. You'd cease to be that happy, playful, friendly little SpongeBob that I fell in love with in the first place. What would be the point? I can't have that. I can never have that. I can never have you.
But I can have you as a friend. What's more, I can have you as a best friend. And I'm going to milk that for all it's worth.
You know how I mentioned the Alaskan Bull Worm incident? Well, that day, by golly, I was getting my tail back! I wasn't about to let some other critter take my stuff—especially my body parts—and just sit back like it was no big deal!
You tried to stop me. Okay, big understatement. You tried every stupid plot you could think of to make me turn back, and I saw right through them. I wasn't going to let anyone stop me—not even you.
And then, when you were at the end of your rope, you flung yourself onto my helmet and started bawling. You were terrified for me! You didn't want to lose me! Looking back, I can certainly see why. I've never seen a worm that size.
But I have to admit… I was touched by how much you cared about me, more than I could ever let you know. It was almost like a drug to me—knowing that you love me was enough to get me through the day, and your fear for my safety filled me with a glow. It's terrible of me to think that way, I know. I get so much joy out of your terror—and don't take that the wrong way! It's just the fact that you're feeling that for me, for ME! It's truly like a drug. It lifts me up, and I can't get enough of it.
Now, you know that I've always lived on the wild side. It's not like that's anything new. But lately… you know how I've been pulling even more outrageous stunts? Stuff that, up until a few months ago, even I wouldn't have dreamed of doing?
Well, I'm doing them for you. I'm doing them so you can beg me not to, and I can see, again, just how much you really do love me.
And yet… I think I've worked you into a state of complacency. You've gotten used to the crazy feats that I've been living for… and you've almost ceased to care.
I even took off my helmet—underwater! You knew that I couldn't breathe, but you hardly batted an eye. In fact, you made fun of me. You kept trying to get me to breathe, and when, finally, my lungs couldn't take it anymore, I tried to—but all I took in was water!
I could have died, SpongeBob. Do you even realize that? If that air-tight jar of pickles hadn't have been nearby, in fact, I would have. I couldn't have made it to the surface—or even my tree dome—in time. Did you realize that, or was your competitive nature in the way? Or, if you did realize… did you just not care?
I refuse to believe the last one. I know you do care… and all I want is to see it. That's why I've been more reckless than usual.
And probably, ones of these days, one of my exploits won't just come close to killing me. It will kill me. I've been lucky before, but someday, it's gonna run out. I know it is. And yet, I just can't stop putting my life at risk, more and more, just to have you try and stop me. Just so I can have more proof of your love for me… a love that I already know is there.
One of these days, I'm going to die for you. (A/N: This letter is not of my own writing. I will include more information on the following page.)
It almost shocks me now, that harmless yet harsh paper and script. Yet, it had all seemed so true, so real.
And to think that he read it.
The paper joins the wood in my fireplace, and I watch it curl and ignite. The past is the past, and nothin' more, I tell myself.
"Sandy, I've got dinner ready!" SpongeBob calls from the kitchen, and I smile to myself.
"Just taking care of something!" I call back, as the rest of the letter disintegrates into ashes.
I get up off of the floor, and make my way to the kitchen, warmly welcoming my new life.