Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.
A Heart That Beats for You
~French Narrator~
"Later that same evening."
It was 10 O' clock at night; most of the town's residents were peacefully asleep in their homes. And the pineapple home of a certain Lovesick sea sponge was dark and quiet… too quiet. He had been gone since early that morning, and his pet snail was worried that he had decided to once again gorge himself on another ice cream sundae… or worse, multiple sundaes like he had done quite a few times in the last month or so. Depending on how many he would have, he'd either come home stumbling on his feet and slurring his words, or he'd be as jittery as a jackrabbit.
Oh, the snail knew. Even though he wasn't a doctor, he had been doing a bit of sneaky research on this 'Lovesickness' and how it took hold of a person; how it affected their mind and heart, and not just their physical being. It had been three months since the sponge was diagnosed with this sickness, and the longer he tried to suppress these symptoms just so that his air-breathing friend wouldn't suspect anything, the sicker he became.
Of course, Sandy did find his behavior quite odd at first. After all, she was a scientist, so, she found it interesting to just sit back quietly and observe peoples' behavior, and her spongy friend was no exception. Sure, SpongeBob was always sort of a strange fellow, but it truly perturbed her when he just out of the blue began to sweat profusely and trembled as if he wanted to run away from something. But as time went on, she concluded that sea creatures tended to go through strange phases. So, she eventually brushed off the strangeness of it all. And besides, it appeared that whatever was bothering him had loosened its grip on him… but of course, in reality, the strange behavior hadn't really disappeared; he found that the only way to keep this behavior under control was to practically drown himself in sweets.
It was so strange to him, but it felt so gosh darn good. Any time the thought of her entered his head, any time he'd run into her out on the street, or when she'd ask for his help on an experiment, he just felt so… sticky sweet on the inside. Was it strange? Yes. But she made him crave more ooey-gooey treats than he could ever handle if he weren't Lovesick. Never before did he have such a strong desire to binge on box after box of chocolates and wash it all down with a twelve-ounce bottle of sea cola. It was becoming less of a habit and more of an addiction. He never knew just when he was going to see her next, so, he kept sugar cubes and lollipops handy in his pants pockets to keep himself calm around her or to keep himself from blurting out something he shouldn't mention- such as how the warmth of her smile made him feel like he was floating on a cloud. Or how the sound of her laughter made his heart want to explode. Why did she have to be so stinking adorable?! It was making him sick! Literally.
He had known her for quite some time, and he had always considered her to be a great friend. But he had never truly realized just how wonderful she really was; sure, she could be as aggressive as a bull, but he admired her toughness and strength, as she was the backbone of many troublesome situations when things were too much for him to handle.
She was always willing to help him out of any dangerous or worrisome situation, which there were a lot of. She also made him laugh, she was friendly and comforting, she was just… sigh. There weren't enough words to describe how she made him feel on the inside, and these feelings were only becoming stronger the longer he kept them to himself.
Gary sat in the dark on the couch in the living room, waiting for his owner to return from whatever mischief he was getting himself into.
"Gah, darn it," a voice slurred from outside the front door. Gary's eyes glowed in the dark, and they widened at the sound of his owners' voice. The sound of jingling keys could also be heard, followed by the lock turning.
He pushed open the door, allowing the moonlight to illuminate the pitch-black room. Gary squinted at the sudden brightness. He saw the shadowy form of his beloved master, standing in the middle of the doorway.
"Hey, what's goin' on in here? Is there a surprise party? It's not my Birthday," he slurred, then turning on the lights. "Oh, it's just you, Gary. What are you doing up so late? Did you watch another Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy episode without me?" he shook his head, "For shame." He closed the door with his back, letting out a sleepy sigh.
His clothes were disheveled and covered in stains of chocolate syrup and vanilla ice cream. His eyes were droopy and bloodshot, and his shoes were switched on the wrong feet. Boy, he really overdid it this time.
He looked over at the snail, who now sat in front of him on the floor. "Ah heh heh, whatcha lookin' at, Gare? Is my hair messed up? Oh, that's right; I'm balder than Squidward," he chuckled, followed by a heavy cough.
The snail peered at him. "Meow? (just where have you been all night? I've been worried sick)"
"Pssshhh, sick? HA, you're not the one who's- "he paused to hiccup, "sick."
"Meow (oh, believe me, I know. Where were you all this time?)"
The sponge stumbled over to the couch and plopped down. "Well, where do ya think I was, Gary? It's not like I was out at Glove World having fun with Patrick, or dislodging Squidward's clarinet from his throat, or…" he paused and stared for a moment. "Telling Sandy how beautiful her eyes are."
Oh boy, that was it. Gary knew what had to be done. "Meow (I want you to call Mr. Krabs)
SpongeBob looked over at him. "What for? He's probably busy counting all that loot under his- "he belched, "mattress."
"Meow (You need to tell him you'll be late coming in for work)"
The sponge looked at him with tired eyes. "Ohh, I see. So, first, you wake me up from my sweet dreamland of milkshakes just so I wouldn't be 'late.' And now, you're telling me to call Mr. Krabs and tell him I'll be late so that I'll get fired and have more time to play fetch with you. Is that it?" His eye twitched.
They stared at each other for a few moments. "Meow, meow (um, NO. I want you to tell him you'll be late because I've scheduled an appointment for you to see the doctor early tomorrow morning.)"
"Doctor? I don't need to see Kelp-for-brains, I already know what's wrong with me, Gary. I don't need to pay some stupid bill just for him to stick me with needles or send me home with those big, fat seahorse pills." He coughed.
"Meow (you need a check-up, I think you're getting worse. This is serious, Papa-Bob. You've completely let yourself go)"
SpongeBob cocked a brow at him. "Gary The Snail are you trying to say I'm getting fat?" the snail stared at him. SpongeBob's lips quivered, "Oh, well, that's just wonderful! First, you call my best friend 'tubby.' And now, you're biting the hand that feeds you and waxes your shell. How… could you?!" he began to cry.
Gary rolled his eyes and thought, "Oh, brother. He's more sensitive than that teenager Pearl and her crybaby friends!"
"Meow (get ahold of yourself and call him, before it's too late)" he handed him the house shell-phone with his teeth. "You're not getting any dessert tomorrow, mister," he said, still sniveling.
"Meow (fine by me; Neptune knows you've got an eternity's supply of sugar cookies.)"
The sponge dialed Mr. Krabs' house number.
Mr. Krabs lay sound asleep in his bed, dreaming of the love of his life. No, it wasn't Mrs. Puff.
"Ah, money, money, money, money." He mumbled in his sleep. RING, RING, RING!
"Huh? W-what was that-GET AWAY, PLANKTON! YOU AIN'T GETTIN' ME MONEY, OR THE SECRET FORMULA!" he shot up in bed and looked around. He looked over at his nightstand to see the shell-phone bouncing with each ring. He groaned, reaching over to grab it and answer it.
"If this is a bill collector, ye can kiss the rear of me hard shell!" he heard weeping on the other end.
"SpongeBob?"
He sniffed, "G-good evening, Mr. K," his voice trembled.
"What in Neptune's Trousers are ye callin' me at this time of night for, boy? Don't ye know an old crab needs to rest his rickety old back?"
"I'm s-sorry, Mr… M-Mr…. WAHHHHH!" he sobbed. Mr. Krabs flinched, pulling the phone further from his ear. "Jeez, that kid needs to stop readin' all them sad bedtime stories." He said to himself.
"Okay, okay! Quit yer bellyachin'. What's the trouble, lad?"
He sniffed again, looking over at Gary with pleading eyes. The snail gave him a look of "Just do it". "I-I j-just needed to let you know that I might be- "he bit his lip. "A-a little late for work tomorrow, Mr. Krabs."
"You've been comin' in late a lot this past month, boy. Ye better have a good reason, or I'm gonna- "
"I DO! Sir, I swear. You see, I've got a doctors' appointment tomorrow morning, I've been kinda sick," he twisted the phone cord around his fingers.
Mr. Krabs cocked a brow. "Doctors' appointment? Sick? I don't buy it. Don't tell me yer makin' all this up as an excuse for me to fire ya because you're sick of makin' Krabby Patties,"
"N-no, sir. I could never be sick of that, not in my wildest dreams," his tone of voice was desperate.
"Alright, alright, I believe ya. Well, maybe ye should stop by me house for a bit and sniff me gold doubloons. That always makes me feel better whenever I lose a customer, arg arg arg arg!" he chuckled.
"I'm afraid that wouldn't work, Mr. Krabs," he said sadly, still feeling the effects of the sugar in his system.
"Wouldn't work?! My goodness, what is this world comin' to? What exactly are ye sick with, Boy-o?"
"I… can't say, Mr. Krabs. It's far too personal."
"Hmm… well, whatever it is, it better be worse than the flu." He said sternly. The sponge sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "Oh, it's definitely worse than the flu, sir… much worse." He was beginning to slur his words again.
"Sheesh, boy. Ye sound more out of it than me on those crazy nights back when I was a sailor. Why don't ye relax and have some seahorse milk and cookies or somethin'?"
SpongeBob's lips quivered again. "I-I would… but… "he looked over at Gary. "SOMEBODY SEEMS TO THINK I'M GETTING FAT! WAHHH!" a flood of tears shot through Mr. Krabs' end of the phone, squirting him on the side of his head.
He covered the phone with his claw. "OKAY! Okay, enough. Just come right in after your appointment, and no dilly-dallyin',"
SpongeBob pulled himself together. "Thank you for understanding, sir." He sniffed. "Yeah, yeah. Now let's end this, boy-o. I want to get back to dreamin' of me first love," he said.
"Mrs. Puff?"
"I said me first love, lad. Now get some rest, I'll see ya tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Mr. Krabs." And with that, he hung up. "Well, I hope you're happy now, Gary," he pouted in his drunken state.
"Meow (indeed, I am. Now, it's time for bed; you need to get up early for your appointment.)"
SpongeBob stood up, wobbling. "Excuse me? I believe it is I who tells you when bedtime is, mister. I can stay up just as late as I- "he suddenly passed out, landing on top of Gary's shell.
"Meow (boy, I sure hope that doctor tells him what he needs to hear.)" And with that, he slithered up the stairs with his owner draped over his shell.
~French Narrator~
"The next morning."
6 A.M. in the doctor's office, just a few crotchety old folks sitting in the waiting area. SpongeBob entered the building, walking alongside his pet. Gary wanted to be there this time; so that his owner couldn't possibly cover up any news from the doctor.
The sponge was exhausted; still feeling the effects of the sugar crash from the night before. He stood at the front desk, his head pounding. He leaned his forehead against the tall desk and reached up to ring the service bell.
The receptionist saw the yellow hand reach for the bell. She leaned forward, looking over the counter. "Well, if it isn't Mister Lovesick," she said. "What can I do for you today?"
"Appointment… check-up with… Dr. … Kelp… "he began to doze off as he stood there. She snapped her fingers, waking him back up.
"No problem, Mr. SquarePants. You'll just need to fill out the usual paperwork,"
"Okay. But it was really heavy last time, so, just give me a second to- "
Splat. Before he could finish, the thick stack of papers was dumped onto his head. He fell face down onto the floor. "Thanks again." He said in a muffled voice. Gary stared at him, knowing this was going to take a while.
A while later…
"So, back so soon, Mr. SquarePants?" asked the doctor, looking at his clipboard.
SpongeBob sat on the exam table. "Oh, believe me, doc; if it weren't for my little Gary here, I wouldn't be back here for Neptune knows how long, hahaha-ohhh…" he held onto his throbbing head.
"Meow (he really needs your help, doctor.)"
"Hmm… well, let's see what we can do."
The doctor proceeded to take the sponge's blood pressure and pulse. "Huh…" said Dr. Kelp.
"What is it, doc?" asked SpongeBob, looking up at him with groggy eyes. "It appears you have very high blood pressure, son."
He gulped, "H-how high?"
"One hundred and eighty over one hundred and ten. That's the highest I've seen in a long time." SpongeBob bit his lip.
"And your pulse is up there, too." He said. "Well, going for a check-up always makes me nervous," SpongeBob chuckled awkwardly.
"It seems to be a little more than that, my boy." He scribbled something down on his clipboard. "Your pulse is one hundred and ten," Gary's eyes widened. He and SpongeBob shared a worried glance.
"Now, hold still; this is going to pinch a little," said a nurse with a puffy hairstyle. She held his thumb. "Oh, no problem. See, there was this one time I got this really bad splinter-YOW-OWWW!" he screamed at the little needle that pricked his skin.
"Blood sugar is two hundred and fifty, doctor." Said the nurse. "Meow! (yikes!)"
"I-is that bad?" asked SpongeBob, trembling. "I'm afraid so, son." The doctor shook his head.
SpongeBob's nose drooped, his expression saddening. The doctor sat down in a chair opposite of his patient. "Just what have you been doing to cause all of this, Mr. SquarePants?"
SpongeBob's eyes shifted around the room. "Well… I've kind of had a bit of a sweet tooth for a while, heh heh," he rubbed his arm.
"Meow (it's much more than just a bit of a sweet tooth)"
"Gary, we are not at the vet; this is my appointment, remember?" he said with a hint of irritation. "Well, I think your pet is correct, son. Just how many sweets have you been ingesting?" asked the doctor with concern.
"Well, let's just say that I… maybe… uh… "
"Meow (he eats nothing but the richest, fattiest, ooey-gooey sweets all day long; for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He even pops sugar cubes in his mouth at work)"
"Gary, I never told you about that. How did you know?" he cocked a brow at him. "Meow, meow (I have to use my teeth sometimes when I do the laundry; of course, I'm going to find out what you're hiding in your pants pockets.)" He meowed sarcastically.
"Is there anything else, Mr. SquarePants?"
SpongeBob sighed. "I might as well tell you the rest: I've been gorging myself on at least a dozen ice cream sundaes almost every week this past month; every chance I get. I've been late to my job a bunch of times, and on my days off I do nothing but sit around and… " his eyes welled up with tears, "guzzle maple syrup and eat a pound of chocolate chips while I watch those stupid romantic made-for-TV movies," he covered his eyes with his hands, feeling ashamed.
The doctor could see what an emotional wreck the young man had become. He thought for a few moments. He then grabbed a stack of papers and examined a few paragraphs from them.
SpongeBob looked up at him, still teary-eyed. "W-what's that?" he asked. "This is information that goes into more detail of the 'Lovesickness'. And it appears that what you've been doing is a direct result of the sickness getting progressively worse."
SpongeBob's eyes grew wide. "W-worse?" the doctor nodded. "Have you been thinking about this Sandy squirrel lately?"
SpongeBob cleared his throat. "Uh, it's Sandy Cheeks." He corrected. "Oh, yes. That's right, I had forgotten that you told me that last time I saw you. Well, have you been thinking about this Sandy 'Cheeks' at all?"
SpongeBob fiddled with his tie. "Well… yeah… I guess you could say I have," he looked down shyly, trying to bite back a smile.
"Meow (he gushes about her, doc)" SpongeBob looked at him. "Gary!"
"Meow! (it's true! You're always mentioning something you like about her)"
SpongeBob furrowed his eyebrows at his pet. "Well, is that true son?" asked the doctor in an interested tone.
SpongeBob shrugged. "Well… yeah, I guess so." He smiled crookedly. "Tell me, what do you like most about her?"
The sponge stared off into space. "Gosh, I… I don't know where to start," he smiled. Gary smirked.
"I like the way she laughs… she giggles like a sweet little kid. Haha, it really makes me feel all fuzzy when she laughs at one of my jokes. And her smile… her smile is… just so bright, it always cheers me up whenever I feel sad," he beamed.
"Go on," said the doctor. "She's tough, really tough. We went to a science convention together- "
"The one that got destroyed?" asked the doctor. SpongeBob nodded. "Yep. And when that robot came towards us… she protected me when I should've been the one to protect her. But she's always been like that… she's so brave, she stares danger right in the face and knocks it out cold," he said, the excitement rising within his voice.
The doctor smiled. "What else?"
SpongeBob thought for a moment. "I like how she's always there to help me whenever I need it… if I'm worried or troubled about anything, anything at all, she's there to tell me it's gonna be okay. She's also really, really smart, and funny, and nice, and understanding… and…" he stared for a moment. "She just… makes my heart swell with so many feelings. She makes me feel all warm and tingly on the inside… remember those jellyfish I told you about? They don't sting me anymore, they… they tickle me. They're tickling me right now as I talk about her… she's just so… wonderful. Gosh, I just wish I could tell her how… pretty she is," his cheeks turned red as he allowed a small smile to cross his lips.
The doctor smiled at the young man. "Well, Mr. SquarePants, have you told her any of these things?"
"Gosh, no. I-I couldn't… see, we've got a good friendship and I don't want to do anything to mess that up," he said.
"Well, unfortunately, son, your symptoms are only getting worse. It says here on page twenty-three that you are now in the advanced stages of the sickness," said the doctor.
"Advanced?..." he began to feel worried. "Yes. According to this information, the patient who has the sickness tends to eat sugary sweets to excess. They begin to lose track of time, it becomes more and more difficult to conceal just how much they care about a person. Your behavior matches all of these things perfectly."
SpongeBob gulped. "So… what does this mean, doc?"
"You are in love with Miss Cheeks, plain and simple."
SpongeBob gasped. "Are… are you sure, doctor?" the doctor nodded. "So, you mean it isn't just a simple crush anymore, huh?" his expression saddened.
"I'm afraid not."
"What does this mean for me now?" he asked. "It means you've got to release all these feelings before the condition does you in."
SpongeBob gasped again. "D-does me in? But, how could it- "
"I mean with your high blood sugar and whatnot. It isn't good for your health to keep these feelings to yourself, it could cause serious problems. Not only to your body but to your heart and mind." The doctor explained.
SpongeBob looked at Gary sadly. "So, the only thing for me to do is… "
"Tell her how you feel."
"But… what if she doesn't feel the same?" his blue eyes became glassy.
"That is a risk you must be willing to take, Mr. SquarePants."