Squidward, unfortunately, couldn't take action until the next day. Wednesday morning, he did the unthinkable and called off the day at work. He told Mr. Krabs and Spongebob that he was sick, making sure to call Krabs and text Spongebob:
Him: Hey, Spongebob, I won't be coming in today. I'm sick.
S: Oh no! Are you okay? Do you want me to come take care of you after work?
Him: No, I'm not that sick. Thank you.
S: Oooh, okay, okay. Have fun then ;)
Him: Don't tell Krabs.
S: I won't. Just go fix things :)
The kindness that Spongebob showed him made Squidward feel guilty for always pushing him away, but the issues with Squinn were the ones to focus on at the moment. Around midday, he hopped on his bike and rode towards downtown Bikini Bottom. Nestled in the outskirts of the main metro area was a flower shop, plastered with pastel colors and adorned with flowers of all varieties. Squidward leaned his bike against the front of the store and walked in, setting off the ringing bell that peered over the door frame.
A middle-aged fish with curled, bleach-blonde hair sat behind the front counter, meticulously putting together a bouquet. "Good morning," she chirped in a sing-songy voice, "can I help you?"
"I'm looking to get my, uh," he cleared his throat, "partner, some flowers."
"Special occasion?" she inquired, stepping out from behind the counter and making her way towards some roses.
"No," Squidward smiled, "just a surprise."
"I bet she likes roses. Every girl loves roses."
Squidward bit his lip and decided to not correct the fish. "Lilies, actually. Orange lilies."
"Excellent choice," the fish smiled. She scurried to the opposite end of the store and produced a fresh bouquet of the requested flowers, meticulously wrapping them in plastic before handing Squidward a packet or two of plant food. Squidward paid her, hopped back on his bike, and rode towards home.
On the way home, Squidward stopped at the grocery store and picked up a bottle of Pinot Noir. Squinn likes this kind, he told himself as he rode home with wine and flowers in hand, we can sit and talk over wine, yeah, that'll be nice. Squidward's heart still felt weak and fluttery when he thought about the way Squinn's voice cracked when he yelled, the way he sunk to the ground and ran his tentacles through his hair with the weight of wrought emotions. He was anxious to alleviate that lasting image in his mind and Squidward planned on stopping by Squinn's apartment to surprise him.
That afternoon, Squidward rode slowly on the way to Squinn's. Squidward often rode his bike in silence, wanting to listen to the world around him, but today, he used his phone to put on a classical piece, then cranked up the volume of the ear buds. Brian Crain's "Time Forgotten" swelled in his head and swirled in his thoughts, recalling the street performers on the day of the fight. The violin ebbed and flowed with such beauty against the chimes of the piano, serving as a soundtrack to Squidward's memories as the mental image of Squinn sinking to the ground replayed repeatedly. Squidward gulped, overwhelmed with anxiety as to what his future held, both for himself and his relationship.
Squidward eventually pulled up to the apartment complex and wheeled his bike through the lobby and towards the elevator, flowers and wine in one tentacle and the bike in the other. As he stepped into the elevator, he rehearsed what he would lead the conversation with: Hi, Squinn, I came here to apologize. I was selfish and inconsiderate of your circumstances. I shouldn't have acted that way. Please give me another chance. Thank you.
"Hi, Squinn," he mumbled to himself as the elevator opened to the floor, "I came here to apologize."
Squidward slowly wheeled the bike down the hall.
"I was selfish and inconsiderate of your circumstances. I shouldn't have acted that way."
He approached the door.
"Please give me another chance."
He knocked on the door, tentacle trembling.
"Thank you," he whispered.
No one came to answer the door. Squidward rocked back and forth, feeling the sweat beading against his forehead. He knocked again. Still no answer. Squidward leaned his head against the door and listened for any sounds on the other side. Nothing.
He must not be home.
Squidward spent another minute or two rocking in place before sighing heavily, leaning his bike against the wall, and reaching into his shirt pocket. He produced the key to Squinn's apartment. Squidward stared at the key, turning it over in his tentacle. I probably shouldn't go in, I don't think he wants to see me, Squidward thought, but...I have to make things right.
Hesitantly, Squidward popped the key into the lock. He unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, hoping Squinn wasn't standing near the door. When Squidward realized the apartment was empty, he placed the key back in his pocket and wheeled the bike inside.
Squidward leaned the bike against the wall near the door and set the wine on the island in the kitchen. He quickly realized that the apartment looked different and it took him a second to realize that the couch was no longer present. Only the coffee table remained where the couch used to be. Thinking about Squinn removing furniture led Squidward to think about Squinn moving, and he felt his chest become tighter with anxiety over that hypothetical. Wanting to distract himself, he looked to the kitchen counter and noticed a plethora of scattered sheet music littering the kitchen counter. He probably left to teach a music lesson, Squidward realized. He hunted around the kitchen for a flower vase and filled it with water, making sure to mix in the plant food the florist provided. Squidward trimmed the bottom stems of the flowers and arranged them in the vase, then moved the vase to the long white table near the window. He placed the vase next to the other potted plants and watched the soft sunlight shimmer through the petals of the flowers.
A sudden wave of nausea plagued Squidward's stomach and he shivered, his body feeling as if it were being swept off the ground. He felt like an intruder, standing in the center of Squinn's apartment, alone and anxious and acutely aware of his unwanted presence in the room. Even without a physical force telling him to leave, he felt like he shouldn't be there.
Squidward glanced down at the coffee table and realized the puzzle from a few days prior was no longer there. A new puzzle lay partially finished on the table. Squidward sat on the ground with his legs crossed and scooched himself so his folded legs were hidden from sight beneath the table. He stared at the puzzle, hoping to put some more pieces in place. Squinn always started with the border pieces and these were the only pieces in place. The rest were scattered around the table. Squidward studied the picture of the country house on the box, but his head felt so fogged with stress, he couldn't concentrate. His attempt to work on the puzzle became his attempt at trying to keep his breathing in check.
Squidward stared at the puzzle for 15 minutes, yet it felt like an hour. His eyes only lifted from the table when he heard the lock of the door click. Squidward held his breath as the door opened.
Squinn walked in holding his bike by the handlebars. He looked the same as when they first met: his thick brown hair was slicked back with a few stubborn pieces flying forward to frame his thick glasses. The white collar poked out from underneath his blue navy sweater vest and reminded Squidward of the first time he ever laid eyes on Squinn, the first time he thought, Wow. Who is THAT?
Squinn locked eyes with Squidward and they stared at each other for a moment, completely silent. "Hello, Squidward," Squinn mumbled.
Squidward cleared his throat. "Hi," he croaked.
Squinn rested his bike on Squidward's and stepped back into the hallway momentarily. He returned with his cello and, after closing the door, awkwardly shuffled past Squidward to set the case in its usual place.
Squinn stepped towards his bed and sat on the edge of it. He didn't look at his boyfriend: only towards the ground.
The intensity of the silence between them ate at Squidward, who felt compelled to quickly end the stagnance. "I brought you flowers," he said, motioning towards the vase twinkling in the sunlight.
Squinn glanced over at the flowers. "I see."
"Orange lilies," Squidward added, "I know you like orange lilies."
Squinn nodded.
Squidward could feel the sweat beading on his forehead. His tentacles trembled with anxiety, unable to read his partner's emotions. He cleared his throat one more time. "Squinn," he began.
Squinn turned away. "I think you should go," he interrupted. The tone of his voice was curt, monotone, uninterested in whatever Squidward had to say.
Squidward stood up from the coffee table. "Please, Squinn, I'm sorry."
Squinn took off his glasses and set them on the bed. "Squidward," he began, rubbing his eyes.
Time felt like it stopped in Squidward's mind. Everything in the background faded to black and Squinn sat alone in a deep abyss, avoiding eye contact. In that moment, the only thing to exist was him: no flowers, no apartment, no care for appearance, only the necessity to hold Squinn tightly before he faded away like everything else. Squidward put every hang-up he'd ever had on hold to dive towards Squinn, and in an instant, he found himself kneeling at Squinn's feet and tightly holding his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Squinn, please listen," the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think about what he was saying. His tentacles quickly moved to Squinn's after he finished his first sentence.
Squinn's head abruptly turned to Squidward's, alarmed at the speed that Squidward lept to the ground and grapled for his tentacle.
"The thought of being as inconsiderate as I was is killing me, Squinn, I'm sorry. I didn't know where you came from or what you went through, and I didn't consider anyone else's perspective except my own, and you're right, I am narcissistic, I am egotistical, but you're helping to change that, don't you see?"
Squidward gripped Squinn tighter.
"Squinn, you've opened my eyes to so many beauties in life that I never would have known. I wouldn't be kneeling on the ground before you if my ego were too mighty or the consequences of my actions weren't so heavy. You have taught me the importance of perspective, and understanding, and listening, and loving, and the list could continue forever. You have helped me grow into someone new and I don't want you to think I'm egotistical, or narcissistic, or close-minded. I don't want to be conceited, I don't want to make the fish around me feel like they're low-brow, I don't want any more negativity in my life because every day without you has been and will be the most miserable days of my existence. I want to be better, I want to be with you, I want to live my life with you, I want you to be happy, and I don't care where it happens as long as we're together. Please give me another chance. I'm sorry, Squinn, I want to make things up any way I can. I know my apology isn't much, I know it doesn't heal the wounds I've opened, but if you could at least think about what I've said, that's all I ask of you."
Squidward held his breath, tightening his grip on his boyfriend's tentacles. Squinn sighed, eyes still facing the floor. "You hurt me, Squidward. You were insulting."
"I know."
"What we come from isn't a measure of our character."
"I know."
Squinn finally lifted his head and stared into Squidward's eyes with the force of daggers. "Do you?"
"I've thought about it a lot, Squinn," Squidward assured, "I was on my way home from your apartment and there were these fish playing music on the street, and they were playing something I've never heard before-"
Squinn rolled his eyes and tried to shift away, but Squidward firmly held Squinn in place. "Listen," Squidward continued, "it was two ordinary fish on the side streets of downtown, just sitting in chairs, playing guitar and violin. There were so many sea creatures gathered around and they all knew more about the performance than I did. The sounds of the strings melted together like they were long-time lovers, I didn't know how many fish in the area appreciated the violin, and I was stunned to realize that Bikini Bottom does have culture to offer, I was just too blind to see it. It doesn't matter where you come from and it doesn't matter where you are, Squinn. I know that now."
Squidward finally let go of Squinn and placed his tentacles on his knees. "I mean, look at you," Squidward declared, "you came from a background of hardship and you still loved music and art all throughout it, and here you are now, pursuing your talents in the arts, literary, and musical cultures of Bikini Bottom, cultures that I didn't think were here. Just because Bikini Bottom isn't magical for me doesn't make it any less magical than it actually is. I'm sorry I didn't realize this before, Squinn."
Squidward's feelings had never before tumbled out so poetic, so powerful. The squids stared at one another and he desperately tried to read Squinn's flickering pupils, wondering what he would say. Squidward wasn't even aware of all the emotions bubbling within him, but when the thought of losing Squinn was imminent, Squidward knew he had to put everything on the line. Squinn helped unlock the piece of his heart that told him to keep his feelings buried within him. He never wanted to lose the happiness he felt in Squinn's company. Squidward just held his breath, staring back at Squinn. He felt the color rush to his cheeks and desperately thought, What do I do now?
Squinn wordlessly slid from the bed to the floor, sitting with his legs crossed and his back leaning against the bed. He reached for Squidward, wrapped his arms around him, and pulled Squidward partially into his lap and fully into a hug. Squidward hugged Squinn back. Squinn burrowed his head into Squidward's shoulder, his wavy hair falling forward. They sat in a long embrace, holding one another, not a sound between them. When they finally broke from the hug, they raised their heads and looked at one another. Squinn's eyes welled with tears.
"Thank you, Squidward," Squinn whispered.
Squidward nodded as he felt a wide grin rush to his face. He felt like a changed man, sitting with his soulmate and reflecting on the new squid he was becoming. The days of miserably sulking behind the register at the Krusty Krab felt so far removed. Squidward finally understood what it meant to be happy, what it meant to have a joyful heart, what it meant to enjoy every breath he took. He wasted so many years of his life in discontent, wishing to be rid of Bikini Bottom, wishing to flee as far as he could from Spongebob, minimum wage, and the desolate wasteland he called his hometown. He wished he could go back to his former self, the day the depression started seizing him, and help his past self realize how much Bikini Bottom would have to offer.
Squidward brushed the falling hair from Squinn's face, then kissed his forehead. "I got wine for us," he cooed, "I figured we could spend some time together. I just want to talk and enjoy your company. I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Squidward," Squinn smiled. Squidward felt his heart lurch. He missed Squinn's smile.
Squidward rolled off of Squinn's lap and Squinn stood up, extending an arm for Squidward to help himself up. They stepped into the kitchen area and Squidward popped open the bottle while Squinn searched the cupboards for wine glasses.
"Pinot Noir," Squinn remarked as Squidward filled two glasses, "good choice."
"Your favorite choice," Squidward smiled as they clinked their glasses together.
The squids spent the late afternoon sipping wine, talking, listening, laughing, enjoying one another's company. The nights were still warm and Squinn took Squidward by the tentacle as the sun set, leading him out to the balcony. The sun slowly fell beyond the horizon and the stars danced into the sky, twinkling and winking at the star-struck lovers beneath them. Squidward's heart swelled hearing Squinn's voice again. The water he took into his lungs was refreshing, no longer feeling as if he were drowning. The future felt bright as Squidward sat with the love of his life, gazing at the sky and dreaming about the life before them. Squidward felt content for the first time as he reflected on how lucky he was to be with Squinn, how soothing it felt to be together again, how his life would only get more interesting as he took on Bikini Bottom with an open mind and heart. The squid confined to his miserable shell no longer existed, and in his place was a squid revived with a new sense of passion, kindness, understanding, and excitement towards his boyfriend, his friends, his city, his life. The vast sky was an empty horizon ready to be explored with his best friend by his side, and for once, Squidward couldn't wait to breathe. Squidward couldn't wait to live.
Nothing ever seemed to change. That bothered Squidward more than anything in life, more than the constant annoyances of his neighbors and the slew of insufferable customers he dealt with on a daily basis; he couldn't take the continuity. For years, it seemed the only disturbances of the usual grind were the antics Spongebob and Patrick dragged him into, and the more time passed, the more even they felt monotonous. He longed for fame from his artistic abilities, but at that point, anything new would have been welcomed with open tentacles. Life seemed to be a spinning void, pulling him under waves until he drowned in the exacerbation of Bikini Bottom and all its calamities. It wasn't until Squinn's voice broke his conscience, asked him to analyze the world in new ways, reminded him that the only way to be an artist, a musician, a friend, a lover, was to live. Life for Squidward was no longer a spinning typhoon of waves crushing his spirit.
Squidward took that introspective moment to pull Squinn in for one more hug, one more kiss. "You're so special to me, Squinn," he said.
"You're special to me, too, Squidward."
Squidward held Squinn tighter, never wanting to let go. Someone who started as seemingly nothing special became someone Squidward couldn't live without.