The first thing Spongebob noticed when he woke up was how light and easy it was for him to breathe again. It was like breathing after a stuffy nose, so clear and welcome after struggling for so long.

The second thing he noticed, when he finally opened his eyes, was the bright smiles of his entire family waiting for him. And he gave a wide, gap toothed smile back.

Spongebob already knew this before getting the flowers removed, that his love for his family would be untouched. He didn't doubt that for a second, but it was nice knowing for sure.

Seeing them gave him that familiar sense of warmth, safety, happiness, and love, wonderful amazing love, and he's never been more thankful for that. His family didn't get together as much as they should. It didn't help that while he lived closer to the inner part of Bikini Bottom, the rest of his family lived spread out on the outskirts

With every hug, every get well soon card and balloon, every check to make sure he had enough pillows and was comfortable, and every idea for them to get together again and not just when one of them was hurt, the room, and his heart was bursting with love.

"We gotta get together more often, and not just when one of us is sick," Stanley said. He and BlackJack stuck by his bedside almost as much as his parents. The three of them were their own group within the massive number of cousins they had.

"You know what the three of us should do? We should take a guys trip back to our home town," Blackjack said, jumping down from his spot on the top of Spongebob's head to grab another cookie grandma brought him. "Go drinking, go partying, get a couple girls, it'll be great!"

"What about our other cousins?"

"What about 'em?"

While the two of them went on in their banter, Spongebob flipped through the short stack of papers his doctor gave him. The surgery went well, lasted a little longer than they expected, but it went without issue. Three large trash bags were filled with those flowers, and now he could breathe easy. There would be an adjustment period as everything regarding his unrequited love settled, but all was well, now.

"Can one of you open a window?" He asked. His throat itched and his voice was hoarse, but what else could you expect after all this? As soon as BlackJack opened the closest window, he took in a breath of fresh water. His lungs felt so heavy just before the surgery, and now they were so light.

It was done and over with. The flowers were gone, and so was the love he had for his friends.. What was it going to feel like when he saw them? Love was the greatest thing in the world, and sponges are a naturally loving people, overly so. The idea of not just being able to do it, but having lost it, he didn't have anything to try and compare it to.

. . .

That's a problem he'll deal with later. He'll see them at some point.

His parents refused any arrangement other than him staying at their place while he healed up. Which was probably a good thing, his mother would have had a heart attack if she saw the disaster that was his home. The doctor gave the orders to take it easy for a few days, and his parents heard that he wasn't to do so much as lift a finger.

No amount of telling his mom that he was fine stopped her from going straight to the kitchen to cook something.

"Meow."

Did his parents get a snail? Looked around the living room until he spotted Gary.

That's right. His parent bought Gary over since he was staying with them, of course he would be here.

. . .

. . .

There was an itch, not on his skin, but in the back of his brain that was telling Spongebob to get away from him. Discomfort. Unease. Something repelled him from the snail.

He needed to get to his room. Spongebob stepped past the snail and went upstairs.

Even though his dad talked about turning his old bedroom into a man cave once he was out on his own, it barely changed. Even the glow on the dark jellyfish stickers on the ceiling were still there.

'Surprised those haven't peeled off by now.'

"Meow."

The door creaked open as Gary slithered in, following him.

Gary.

Gary.

Gare-Bear.

. . .

His pet.

His responsibility.

He watched as Gary crawled closer to him, but he moved, keeping the same amount of distance between them.

Every part of him was saying not to let Gary touch him, not to let him get close.

Spongebob had so many memories with Gary. More than he could count. If he had that many memories, then Gary is important. He had to be. But he felt nothing when going through those memories. Not a single one brought a smile to his face like it did before.

Is this what It felt like? To not love someone anymore?

It Gary kept trying to get closer, and he kept moving away.

'It's just Gary.'

Gary is important.

Gary is his responsibility.

He has a duty to take care of him.

But he didn't want Gary near him.

He didn't want to touch him.

He didn't want Gary to climb and crawl on him.

He didn't love him.

Spongebob tried, looking in his heart for that feeling of warmth and happiness like he felt when he was surrounded by his family just yesterday. But it wasn't there.

What was there was how he felt learning how the whole town thought he was enough of a pest that they needed a holiday away from him. That's right. If he didn't love them, he couldn't bother and annoy them anymore and make them happy like he always wanted to.

Like he always tried to.

Like he failed to do.

. . .

"Why do you keep following me?" Spongebob asked, But now he was walking in circles, trying to keep space between himself and Gary. Enough to keep that itch in the back of his brain from coming back. "You don't have to act like you want to be around me. I know you don't."

That got Gary to stop. Good. He was starting to get tired of going in circles. Maybe he should take a nap, his head was starting to hurt from thinking too much.

Towards the end of his stay with his parents, the cabin fever was setting, and he was ready to finally clean the mess of his house that was waiting for him.

But after a week of them being on the floor, most of them were starting to wilt and the smell of them hit him like a truck when he opened the front door. Opening the windows and turning on every fan he had helped.

Gary trailed behind him as he went from room to room, sweeping the flowers and petals into piles. As long as he kept a distance, it was okay, and he was easy to ignore.

He tried thinking of his friends the others, but he only felt a mixture of overwhelming boredom, and that itch. It was like he was fighting his own heart and brain to think about them.

Especially since he didn't want to.

It should bother him.

He had so many memories with them. It was hard to find one without them. They were important, he knew that, but he knew it the same way he knew the list of monthly bills he had to pay or chores he had to do. Just a thing, an overall important thing, but not something he cared to think about too much or feel any way towards it.

And he was comfortable with that.

After filling one large trash bag, he dragged it outside and to the curb. Just one of many that he'll be bringing out.

"Spongebob!"

He barely had time to turn and look before he was pulled up and into a hug against something big and pink.

Patrick.

Pat?

His best friend forever?

Best buddy?

Friend?

. . .

"Everyone needs one day without 'aahahahahaa'. "

Neighbor?

Acquaintance?

"Where've you been, buddy? I've been looking all over for you," Patrick said, swinging him back and forth.

Too close.

He's too close.

He didn't want to be near him or talktohimortouchorbetouchedbyhimit feltstrangeandwrongandunnaturalandheneededtogetawayNOWNOWRIGHTNOW—

Spongebob wasn't a very strong person much to his annoyance, but he was using all the strength he had to push with his arms and legs to get out of Patrick's grasp.

"I've been worried about you-"

"Let go of me, Patrick!" He shouted. "Get off!"

The drop to the ground hurt less than how uncomfortable he felt in that hug.

He scrambled backwards on the ground before getting back to his feet.

"Spongebob. . .?" Patrick asked, taking a step forward. Spongebob matched it with a step backward. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. You just scared me," he said. A half-truth. Explaining would mean spending more time talking to Patrick and he didn't want that. At all. "Do you need something?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go jellyfishing. It's been forever since we did anything together," he said.

Jellyfishing sounded nice. It's been too long since he's ran around jellyfish fields with 'Ol Reliable, counting each jellyfish he managed to catch. It was so much fun, especially since the jellyfish were friendly to him and played along.

He wondered how that blue jellyfish was doing.

But going jellyfishing with Patrick?

. . .

The thought of it made that itch come back.

"Maybe some other time, Patrick. I'm busy," Spongebob said. This was enough time being this close, talking to him. He turned and started to head back inside and away from him.

"Busy with what?"

"Cleaning."

"I can help-!"

"I can take care of it myself, Patrick. You'll just get in the way."

And he closed the door.

First day back to work was both exciting and a little bit dreadful. Whoever Mr. Krabs hired in his place whenever he was gone for a while never cleaned enough for his personal standards.

At least during the walk there Squidward didn't talk to him. That, and keeping two arms length away from him kept the itch away. At least Squidward wouldn't try to talk to him.

Like he expected, he was met with a mess of a kitchen. The only good thing was that barely anyone came in during the morning, so he had enough time to make it usable.

The kitchen of the Krusty Krab was his home away from home, where he could do one his most favorite things. And Spongebob was happy to get back into it.

He really was.

Really.

Even if it meant doing it for a bunch of people who couldn't stand to be around him. They sure enjoyed biting the hand that fed them as much as they enjoyed what they were being fed.

It's fine.

Really.

He only had to give them the food. He didn't have to, or want, to do more than that.

"-ebob?"

But he still liked cooking those Krabby Patties. It still brought a smile to his face, making each and every one perfect. He still enjoyed being a fry cook at the best restaurant in Bikini Bottom, the Krusty Krab. He just needed to focus on the part that made him happy and kept the itch away.

"-ongebob!"

You didn't have to enjoy every part of your job, right? Right. Besides, they made it clear they didn't want to be around him longer than they had to.

The feeling was mutual.

"SpongeBob!"

He was yanked out of his thoughts and chopping up the vegetables by the shouts of Mr. Krabs from behind him.

Mr. Krabs.

Mr. K.

Second father?

. . . .

Cheapskate.

"It's a holiday to celebrate you!"

Boss.

"Boy I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes!" Mr. Krabs shouted. "What's the matter with ye?"

"Nothing," Spongebob said. Leave, please just leave. "Is there something you wanted, sir?"

"Just wanted to check on ye. You didn't give a reason for not being here," said his boss. "You aren't still upset about the whole No Spongebob Day thing, are ya? I probably should've worded things better the day we came back. We didn't mean to be gone for that long. I just wanted to let you know we all really appreciate ye and what you do for us."

Is that supposed to make him feel better?

"Spongebob?"

He turned back to the counter. "I have to get things ready for the lunch rush."

He counted with each chop into a head of lettuce the seconds as they ticked by until he heard footsteps and the kitchen door open and close.

It ended up raining at the end of his shift. That wouldn't be a problem, normally. Always one to be prepared, Spongebob kept an umbrella in the kitchen just in case, but he must've forgotten to bring it back after the last rainy day.

But that's fine, home wasn't far from the Krusty Krab, and it wasn't a complete down pour. He was just happy to get away from that place. He'll be home soon enough, then he'll warm up with a shower and scrub away the itch that grew during the day.

"Spongebob."

The ground was interesting enough to look at that Spongebob didn't notice Squidward was walking next to him.

Squidward.

Squiddy.

Friend?

. . .

Neighbor.

Coworker.

Someone he knows.

Still two arm's length away, and with his own umbrella shielding him from the rain.

"You're getting drenched," Squidward said. Spongebob shrugged and turned his attention to the road in front of them. Why did that matter to him? Shouldn't he be happy about that? "Don't be an idiot, get under the umbrella, it's big enough for two people."

Spongebob took another step away, and folded his arms. "I'm fine."

"Just get under the umbrella, You're going to get sick," Squidward said. He stepped closer until the umbrella was over him. "Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

tooclosehesgettingtooclose

Desperate to get away from him, Spongebob hurried to put more space between him. But he didn't notice how close to the edge of the road he was, and fell directly into a mud puddle, mucking up his clothes.

Getting wet was bad enough, and now he was dirty. All because the person who despised him the most wanted to, do what? Be nice?

"Look at what you did! C'mon, get out of there," Squidward reached down to grab him-

TOOCLOSETOOCLOSEHESWAYTOOCLOSE

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He shouted, slapping his hand away. He pushed himself away, deeper into the mud, but farther away from his neighbor. "Get away from me!"

". . .Spongebob?"

He climbed out of the mud and got back on his feet and brushed as much mud off his clothes has he could. It didn't do much to stop the mud from soaking his clothes and making him shiver from the cold.

"I don't understand. . .Why are you doing this? You can't stand me," Spongebob mumbled. "Stop it. . .I'm leaving you alone like you want. . ."

Squidward still tried to get his umbrella over him.

The itch came back full force.

It's too much.

Spongebob started walking home again, hurrying his pace to keep away from Squidward. He had to get away. He scratched and scratched and scratched at both sides of his head to get it to stop. It all made his head hurt so much, the confusion, being around them, just thinking about them.

He slammed the front door shut as soon as he got home. Today was the second hardest day of his life, second only to a week ago. He didn't want to be around them, he didn't want to talk to them, why can't they leave him alone? They were fine with leaving him alone for weeks why was it so hard now?

Now that he was alone, the itch faded.

It was better, it felt better, to be away from them.