Minor corrections (as of July13th, 2005): I apologize for the muck up in Squid's eye color. In sitting down to figure out what to write about, I pondered a lot of different cartoons and anime. No idea what got confused in there, but I made the correction from amber to dark mahogany (lovely color for eyes if you ask me). I also added more on to the end to give it a bit more body. I am a bit torn on whether or not I should make a sequel to this. I doubt anyone is even going to read this, so, I am more or less doing it for writing experience. I am undecided if I should continue this, and from there what kind of ending I should to give it. I could end it tragic, or I could hook them up. So, if anyone does read this, input would be much appreciated.
Okay, so, since the usual story is on hiatus, I am going to try my hand at an independent piece. It might not be too good, and it might seem odd to some people, but that is the fun in being a writer, I think. You get to be creative and stretch the boundaries. I am a huge Spongebob fan, and I can relate to Squid on a lot of levels. I am suffering a terrible case of unrequited love at the moment and I figure, "who could understand that concept better than poor, cynical, melodramatic Squid?"(love his character to bits) Thus, you get this melancholy little one-shot.
On the other story, I am trying to work on that. It is hard doing it on my own, though. I apologize that it is taking so long, but my best friend is in a real bad spot right now. I am doing my best to bring her around, but I do not want to push her too much on it. She needs time, and as selfish as this might sound to fans of the story (I know you are aching for new material, that is natural), she is more important to me.
I caution you, this is slash: Spongebob/Squid. I can not figure out why there are not more stories on this pairing. It seems so blatant to me. I think what clinched it for me was the pizza episode. I mean, Squid must have some type of feelings for Spongebob to take his being rejected by the customer so personally. It touched a serious chord in me. I just think Spongebob is too innocent to see it, and of course Squid is too proud to act on it. Some cursing, but not a lot. I am rating this mature, just to be on the safe side.
Disclaimer: I do not own Spongebob or any of the characters. Song used for inspiration in this chapter, "Stupid" by Prime-sth. Song lyrics have been removed. (as of August 13th, 2005)
Primer: Squid point of view. Lots of mental and emotional angst. I am going straight to the core of Squid and shining a light on the softer, more tormented side of our beloved, morose artist. Also, I am making Squid older than Spongebob. No idea on true ages, but for this story, Sponge is 20 and Squid is 27. It just seems that Squid would be a little older because of how Spongebob seems to look up to him so much, and because he has a wickedly jaded demeanour. Oh, and I know this is something most of you are probably not going to like, but Squid smokes in here. I think it fits his personality and I guess I am trying to put emphasis on his less than innocent side.
I am hoping that fans of "Anatomy of Melancholy" can enjoy this, even though it is not Dragonball Z. I also hope that my time spent playing dedicated apprentice has paid off. Otherwise, this is going to suck.
Stupid
By: Creature of Habit
I used to think I had it together. I used to think nothing could penetrate these iron bars around my heart. I spent years lying to myself, unable to admit that he had done the unthinkable – the unfathomable. It was a mistake. It had to be. I could not be feeling these things. I was not capable of feeling such things. It was laughable. It was insane. I mean ... this is ... Spongebob. I hate him. I do. I ... h-hate ... h ... I love him.
"No. It's impossible." Squidward tried desperately to reassure himself. It was not out of stereotypical denial that he fought the concept, though. Rather, it was because to admit it at this point meant losing his mind.
On the outside, his penchant for melodrama seemed transparent enough. It was just the conceited pessimism of a man too caught up in the dark side of life. On the inside, the pain was more mind-bending than one could imagine. It seemed so easy to spit those cynical retorts and indulge in the same casual, nine-to-five rudeness. But, in truth, the bitter spectacle had a much more grim purpose. It was a steel curtain to shroud the real hurt and depression seething beneath the surface.
I'll be okay as long as I don't say it out loud. If I don't say it, it doesn't seem as real. Sure, that seems logical enough. I just won't say it out loud. I can pretend this is all just a bad dream. Right, just a nightmare. I had a hard day, and I am just hallucinating that I ... I love ...
"Spongebob."
No, I did not just say that. No – no! I just imagined I did. It's okay, Squidward. Just relax and breathe. Good. You only imagined you said it. You did not just say that ...
"I love Spongebob."
Thoughts splintered into dust around him. The room seemed to spin out of control. His mind began to lose purchase and his limbs felt like liquid mercury. It had happened – after four years of keeping it hidden in the blackened corners of his mind, it has happened. He had said it. He could no longer pretend. He could no longer hide. He had said it and there was no turning back.
"Oh God."
:Flashback:
"Hey, Squidward. You okay? You look a like you just lost your best friend."
Bad choice of words, thought the sentimental sponge. If anyone understood Squidward and his plights and problems, it was, ironically enough, Spongebob. I feel so bad for him. I don't think Squidward has any friends. I keep trying, but he seems pretty content to hate me. Spongebob studied the moping man slumped at one of the tables, an almost untouched Diet Dr. Kelp soda clutched in one listless tentacle, a half smoked cigarette in the other. Poor guy. I would give him a hug, but the last time I tried that he threatened to rip out my arms and beat me with them.
Indeed, the morose Squid had become more than a handful of late. It was, of course, part of his character to be standoffish and condescending, but it had gotten a lot worse in the past three months. He had almost been fired a half a dozen times for his increasingly rogue conduct, and it had only been at the persistent pleading of Spongebob that Mr. Krabs had agreed to let him stay on.
"Spongebob, if you don't mind, I am trying to brood – alone." Squid spit, not so much as raising his head to look at the fidgeting Sponge as he took another drag off the cigarette.
Someone up there hates me, Squid lamented in his mind. He had tried to manage some time to himself to get his thoughts off of the very person pestering him. I should just quit. If this keeps up, if these feelings get any stronger, they are going to be the end of me. Of course, the reason he had thought better of quitting was also the reason he wanted to – Spongebob.
"Come on, Squid. I mean, I know you hate me," Spongebob cringed, the thought alone slicing through him like a thousand knife blades, "but, it helps to talk about things. I might not be your first choice of people to open up to, but I think it would do you good ... and I want to help." Spongebob persuaded, vibrant blue eyes tracing the cigarette as it lifted again to the pale sage lips.
"Listen, Spongebob," Squidward snarled, "I can take care of myself. I don't need help from anyone, least of all you." He sneered in a brutal hiss, standing up and dumping his soda in the trash, making the Good Samaritan sponge startle at the unexpected violent outburst.
"B-but Squid, if you just ..." Spongebob began, trying in desperation to reach out to the anti-social man despite the lump of fear lodged in his throat.
"I told you no, damn it." Squidward said, near to shouting and once again making Spongebob jump in fright. "It's closing time," he said as he caught sight of the clock, tossing his hat onto the table and extinguishing the cigarette. "I'm out of here."
One tentacle on the door, and entangled in the thoughts of another night spent in silent despair, the quiet, soft pressure about his middle almost did not register. Casting a curious and hesitant glance to his stomach, he found the one thing he did not need at the moment. Curled around him, ensconcing him in a near fatally tender embrace, was the drear figure of Spongebob.
"Please don't, Squid. Don't do this to yourself. I am tired of seeing you torture yourself like this. You're not being fair to the people that care about you. You're not being fair to yourself." Spongebob begged, sounding as though sobbing, but Squid could not be certain as his face seen fit to bury itself in the cotton of his olive coloured shirt.
Oh, no. Not this. Not now. Squidward started to shake inside.
"Spongebob, get off of me. You're being pathetic and you're embarrassing me." Squidward reprimanded the shorter man, trying to sound harsh but coming out much more gentle and delicate than intended. Of course, this put his anger and discomfort through the roof. Good thing the restaurant was always empty at closing time.
Look at what he is doing to me. Spongebob, you pitiful, absolutely useless ... oh God, he is crying. Spongebob, please, don't cry because of me. Squidward bit his tongue, the urge to cradle the piteous creature in his arms almost too much to bear. But I can't. He wouldn't understand. The thought threatened to murder him on the spot.
"I don't care. Please, Squid ..." Spongebob pleaded, clinging to the thin frame and nudging his nose more ardently into the cologne and smoke laced folds of the gossamer material. For some strange reason, the scent comforted him. It was dark and bleak and troubled and took an acquired taste to properly appreciate. Just like Squid.
It smells good on him. It fits him. Spongebob decided, breathing in deep and letting the abstract token engrain itself in his memory. It feels so good to comfort him. I wish he would let me do this more often. Spongebob dug his hands into the soothing cloth, enfolding his obstinate peer more deeply into the snug sphere.
He's so fragile. Squidward though, nibbling his bottom lip. It's so tempting to just – maybe just this once. His heart thudded like a panicked rabbit in his chest as his arms lifted and began to descend around the delicate little figure. No, hold it ... what am I doing? Stop it!
"I said get off of me!" Squidward shouted, dislodging and briskly pushing Spongebob to the side and into one of the nearby tables by accident. The unanticipated jolt set the emotional man to stumbling off balance, and before he could get his senses straight, he had crashed to the floor in a sad, twisted heap. Squid cringed at the rueful sight, his throat tightening to the point of suffocation. He had not meant to be so rough. He just needed to break the confusing physical contact before he lost it and did something he felt sure to regret.
I have to get out of here. I have to get home. He spared the watery-eyed Spongebob one last apologetic look before thrusting the door open and scrambling as fast as his tentacles could carry him into the cold solitude of night.
"Squidward." Spongebob squeaked out in a broken sob, cradling his legs to his chest and trying to make sense of what he could have ever done to inspire such a fierce hatred of him in the other man. He had done his best – bent over backward in fact – to be kind to the impudent older man. But, some place, he had obviously taken a wrong turn. He had just wanted to be his friend.
"Spongebob?" Came the somber, gruff inquiry.
"Oh, sorry about that, Mr. Krabs. I just sort of ... slipped. I'm on it, sir." Spongebob tried smile and sound his normal, amicable self as he politely saluted, hopping to his feet and darting on trembling legs to a back room to find the broom. Once inside, he closed the door, his lonesome figure sliding to the floor in another fit of confounded tears.
:End Flashback:
I didn't mean to. I really didn't. I just couldn't take the thought of doing something rash and then being rejected. I know he tries to be nice to me – but Spongebob is nice to everyone. It's just in his nature to be extroverted and outgoing. I like it, but at the same time, I can not stand it. It hurts to see him smile and laugh and playfully brush up against me ... because I know he doesn't really mean it. To him, it is nothing. And, to me, it is everything.
"If you could have just meant it once." Squid sighed, one tentacle resting on the cold windowpane as he pined longingly at the brightly lit house next door. If you only had the intelligence and emotional depth to feel for me what I feel for you." He languished, the first prick of salty tears beginning to puddle in the corner of one lackluster dark mahogany orb. "I could have given you so much. It could have been so good." He sighed, eyes landing on a picture that rested on an antique end table, lips turning up in a nostalgic smile.
It had been taken last year on his birthday. Spongebob stood beside him in the photo, grinning eat to ear, one canary yellow arm holding him close. Squid on the other hand looked, as usual, glum and dispassionate. In reality, it had been one of the happiest moments he could remember. It had taken every ounce of restraint not to return the thoughtless affection. But, it had been thoughtless, he thought, smile fading, and that is the reason he could not return any of those gleeful chance encounters.
"It could have been," Squid ground out, picture trembling ominously in one tentacle hand, "but you could never appreciate it!" He screamed, slamming the picture against the far wall, tears flooding his eyes and streaming down his pale cheeks, spattering his shirt like the glass that shattered and littered the once spotless stone flooring. "You could never appreciate any of it, you blind, stupid, lamebrain fool!" Squid sobbed, one absentminded tentacle brushing his bald head as his mind raced out of control.
Tentacles lashing, odds and ends crashing and busting into mangled, intangible fragments – he had to get rid of anything that reminded him of his unrequited obsession. He smashed the monogrammed coffee mug that Spongebob had made for him to amend breaking the other one. He ripped the pages out of the art books Spongebob had bought for him to apologize for that fiasco as an art instructor. He broke the jazz and classical music records Spongebob had given him for Christmas that year. He couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. Lungs about to explode and throat sore from screaming, he demolished everything that made him think of the adorable yellow sponge.
"I should have told you. I wanted to. I tried to a million and one times. But you're so fucking dense, you could never understand!" He cried, collapsing against a nearby wall and denting holes in the hard stone, tentacles soon bruised and bleeding. In his heart, he could not quite bring himself to blame Spongebob. It wasn't as though he was hurting him on purpose. "You're just too fucking innocent to see!" Squid sobbed, soul splitting and tearing apart at the seams.
"I don't blame you," Squid mumbled under his breath, letting his drained figure crumble to the floor in a sickening heap. He soon began to succumb to the emotional exhaustion, the short pants and cries beginning to subside. "It's not your fault that you're so innocent. It's one of the reasons I'm so fond of you." He whispered, dusting an adoring tentacle over the besmirched, glassy photo film that lay at his side. "I suppose this is life's way of telling me I don't deserve love – that I don't deserve you." Squid part laughed, part sobbed, the undeniable truth collapsing in on him like an anvil. "Curse you for making me love you."
An hour later found the brooding artist in his signature white cotton lounge robe, moping at the kitchen table over a lukewarm cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. The lush scent of lilac bath oil radiated from the willow tinted skin, perfuming the stagnant, depressed water around him. In front of him lay a book of old poetry and a bottle of pills.
Fin.
Heartbreaking, isn't it? I hope this turned out okay. I am not going to say if Spongebob reciprocates the feelings – that is up to you to decide. I am doing my best, as I try to work on this other project, to sort of put together little one-shots to keep you entertained and occupied in the meantime. Most, if I can manage any more of these, are probably going to be a bit dark and depressing. I can't help it. Life is not so good to me at the moment and this is one of my only safe outlets. Okay, read and review please. I could use some feedback as this is my first independent piece and I am itching to know how I did.
Thanks a bunch.
Squidward (sniffling and scowling): Why does everyone think I am so cynical and depressed?
Creature of Habit (cuddling him and handing him a tissue): Because you are, honey.
Squidward (wiping his eyes): Oh, right.
Spongebob (bounces in): Hey Creature! Hey Squidward!
Squidward (trying to hide behind a throw pillow): Go away.
Spongebob (concerned): What's wrong with Squid?
Creature of Habit (sighing and patting Squid): He's lonely.
Spongebob (is becoming sad): Oh, don't be lonely, Squid. (grins) I know what you need – a hug!
Squidward (blushes and eyes bug out): Get him away from me. (tries to hide more behind the pillow)
Creature of Habit (grins): Squid, are you ... blushing? (wiggles her eyebrows)
Squidward (glares and blushes more): No! Stop looking at me like that!
Creature of Habit (winks at Spongebob, who winks back – in unison): Hug attack!
Squidward (panics): No! Make it stop! Somebody help me!